#or maybe i couldn’t. maybe i’m just not shaped to fit into anybody’s arms

[leemeanhoe]

bought some milk and ice cream three days ago ‘cause i was craving a milkshake and you know what i haven’t had in the last three days? fucking guess

[mypoisonedvine]

Seeing Red | bodyguard!Bucky Barnes x actress!reader (part 6)

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5)

series summary:  bucky used to brag that he didn’t have a celebrity crush, or really care about famous people at all, which is what made him the perfect person to start working for a celebrity like yourself.  except, of course, it’s just his luck that he’d fall for you.  

word count: 5.1k

warnings: smut (in the form of road head lmao) plus some more implied smut and teasing and stuff, use of 'y/n' which is perfectly fine but it still makes me anxious cause I've never done it before, other than that just fluff and celebrity/PR stuff

You tilted your head slightly as you watched Bucky emerge from the pool, slicking his wet hair back out of his face, body dripping with cool droplets that sparkled in the afternoon sunlight.

Yeah, you were never going to get tired of this view.

“See somethin’ you like?” he grinned as he grabbed a towel and rubbed it over his hair before lowering it to dab off his shoulders and torso, his dog tags jingling lightly when he bumped against them.

“Yeah, why don’t you come over here and put that body on me?” you purred. He chuckled and stepped closer, tossing the damp towel aside before leaning down to climb onto your pool chair and hover above you; the dog tags hung low and tickled your stomach, making you giggle a little.

“I don’t know that I should, I actually have a girlfriend…” he explained, feigning hesitance as you sat up slightly to nibble at his jaw.

“You know, a lot of couples have a ‘celebrity pass,’ and I just so happen to be a celebrity… do you two have one of those?”

“Maybe we do,” he replied nonchalantly, raising an eyebrow.

“Who’s yours?”

“This really hot girl I saw once, in this really crappy movie,” he winked.

“Hey!” you laughed, shoving him back. “Which one of my movies is crappy?”

“What makes you think you’re the hot girl I’m talking about?” he countered.

“Oh, you’re really trying to get yourself in trouble.”

“Just to be clear— we’re not going to have any celebrity passes, right?" he frowned. "Because you know a lot of famous people and I don’t like those odds.”

You scoffed. “Definitely not.”

“Good. I can only handle one famous woman at a time anyways,” he chuckled.

//

He, meanwhile, would never get tired of waking up beside you, holding you before you were even really aware of anything yet, feeling you stir in his arms and snuggle up close to his chest.

“Bucky…” you mumbled sleepily into his shoulder.

“Yeah?” he whispered, smiling a little as your eyes fluttered but didn’t really open.

You just hummed and shifted again, looking so peaceful that he couldn’t help but kiss your forehead. “Mornin’, beautiful,” he purred.

And there was the best part of every morning: when you opened your eyes and looked up at him for the first time, and you smiled— actually smiled at the sight of him. He couldn’t remember the last time somebody was this happy to see him. He couldn’t imagine what he’d ever done to deserve it.

“Hi,” you greeted coyly.

“Hey there,” he grinned back. His eyebrow raised when he felt your foot delicately trail up the back of his leg, your hips beginning to straddle his. “Got somethin’ on your mind, pretty girl?”

“Maaaaybe…”

He chuckled, always impressed (in the best possible way) by your insatiability. “Already?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “had a dream about you.”

“Care to enlighten me?” he prodded, rubbing your back with his metal hand.

“You had me bent over the bed…” you began, voice a bit lower than normal.

“Good start.”

“In my trailer," you finished.

“Oh, you’re filming in this dream?”

“Well, we weren’t filming right then," you grinned, and Bucky clenched his jaw just imagining the idea of filming you while he fucked you. Much too risky when celebrity sex tapes always seem to end up leaking, but a fun thought nonetheless. "But you made me promise to keep quiet in case somebody heard us. Said you didn’t want anybody else to know how I sound when I come.”

He smirked. “Seems like something I would say.”

“But really I liked the idea of everybody overhearing and knowing how good you make me feel… I want them all to know I’m yours.”

“Sounds like a nice dream,” he smirked, shivering slightly when you leaned in to start kissing his neck and jaw.

“Feel like making my dreams come true, stud?” you purred.

“Yes,” he admitted tensely, “but we don’t have time. You have a meeting at 9, remember?”

“No no no, we have time,” you assured. “We both know how fast you can make me come.”

“No point in doing something if you’re not gonna do it right,” he frowned, “and I don’t have time to do it right.”

“You really are just completely against quickies, aren’t you?”

“Morally and religiously, yes," he announced firmly as he puffed up his chest.

“Religiously?” you repeated with an eyeroll.

“Making you come at least three times is sacred,” he explained. “I worship your body. The shapes I make with my tongue on your clit? I’m spelling out my prayers.”

“You do spend a lot of time on your knees,” you remembered.

“Yeah, well, so do you,” he winked. “But you really do need to get up. And I need to shower before I go warm the car up.”

“Fine," you groaned, wrenching yourself out of his grasp and hopping out of bed.

"That's the spirit," he laughed, getting up with you and starting his own morning routine.

He had to keep you in check to make sure you were ready on time, but with a little encouragement he was able to get you in the car with even some time to spare. And since it was just the two of you and you weren't going to be seen getting out of the car, you could ride passenger and be closer to him.

"What's this meeting about again?" he asked as he took the car around the driveway and out of the front gate, starting the commute to the address you'd given him.

"Director wants me for a project, we're gonna talk about her vision and see if it's a good fit."

"Have you seen a script yet?" he asked, hoping that you'd let him take a look at it if you had.

"No, it's still being written, but the concept sounds amazing. I'll tell you all about it after the meeting," you promised.

He checked the estimated arrival time on the GPS screen and noticed it was even faster than he anticipated.

"Hey, we've got some room for error— do you wanna stop for breakfast?" he offered.

"I want breakfast, but I don't wanna stop," you decided.

"What, like drive-through?" he asked, but then you suddenly reached across the console and slid your hand over his thigh and right over his groin. "Oh, fuck."

You smirked as you leaned in a little bit, resting your head on his shoulder as he started to grow hard in your palm. "Keep your eyes on the road, okay?"

"O-okay," he nodded a little, shifting in his seat to make it easier for you to undo his belt and fly.

You reached into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his shaft— even just that made him shiver and blink a few times to try to focus on driving. Your fingers were a little cold but it was welcome relief considering he was suddenly burning up.

A few strokes were enough to get him fully hard, and it took a deep breath to keep him together as you leaned your head down into his lap, giving a slow lick right over his tip. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath, but you definitely heard it because he could feel your smirk as you kissed up and down his length.

Just when he was about to beg for it, you wrapped your lips around him and sucked, gentle at first but slowly getting more aggressive as he fought the urge to buck up into your mouth.

"Oh god," he sighed, head falling back onto the headrest. Your tongue swiped over his slit where precum had gathered already, and it was just another reminder that you'd already found all his most sensitive places and planned to use them against him whenever you could.

A little hum echoing in your throat vibrated through his cock, making him hiss a little as you started to set your pace of bobbing up and down and stroking what you couldn't fit in your mouth. Little drops of your spit rolled down the shaft to his balls and if he wasn't trying to hard to look at the other cars on the road he would've let his eyes roll back in his head.

Finally, a red light gave him a chance to take his hands off the wheel and grab your hair, stroke your back, hold your face— he didn't really care what, he just needed to touch you.

"Baby," he groaned, "fuck, you're so good… keep sucking my cock, just like that, oh my god—"

A car horn tore him from the moment and made him realize the light had turned green. One hand quickly shot up to steer as he let his foot up off the brake, breathing through his teeth as you sucked him harder and deeper.

Just as he put his foot on the gas, you took him down your throat until your lips met with the very base of him, and the shock made his leg jerk and sent the car lurching forward.

You were laughing a little as you pulled off of him, still stroking his soaking wet length as you popped up to glance out the windshield and then up at him. "Drive much?"

"All the time," he defended breathlessly, "but, uh, not usually like this."

"You can handle it," you scoffed. "All you need to do is not hit any cars or poles or pedestrians. Just relax and let me get my breakfast…"

You went back down with a smirk as he exhaled sharply, silently promising himself that he was going to keep his cool and drive safely.

Instantly, the tip of your tongue just barely pushing into his slit sent that plan out the window, a loud moan echoing through the car and his eyes falling shut for only a moment.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he groaned.

You let out a coy little giggle before getting back into it, returning to your reliable pattern of stroking and sucking with the occasional venture into the back of your throat— but this time gaining speed steadily, making his toes curl inside his boots and the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

His metal hand had a death grip on the steering wheel while his other stroked your hair and held you down just a moment longer each time your throat wrapped around his head.

"Fuck, baby, I'm gonna— oh god—" he tried to warn you.

You moaned approvingly, stroking your hand and bobbing your head faster.

His turn was coming up and he needed to get two lanes over, but at this point he accepted that he was going to miss the turn because he just needed to come down your throat right fucking now; he didn't even hear the GPS announcing that it was recalculating the route, he didn't even care that he was driving way too slow, all he could perceive was the feeling of your lips around him as he throbbed with each pump of his load onto your tongue.

"Fuuuuckkkk," he gasped as he held you down at your neck, making sure you got every drop. But that backfired pretty quickly when he let go and you still didn't come back up, sucking as if he hadn't come at all. "Oh— oh fuck!" he yelped, and his fears that his eyes would fall shut were gone because they were wide fucking open now, his breathing coming fast and hot through his teeth as your tongue refused to let up.

Your little moans made it clear this was not an accident, but a deliberate attack on his senses that made his entire body jolt.

He tried to pull you off of him, and you resisted for just a moment before finally giving him a break, popping up from his lap to swallow what was in your mouth and lick your lips with a prideful smirk. He allowed himself a quick glance at your satisfied expression as he laughed exhaustedly, still trying to catch his breath as you leaned back in your seat.

"You are…" he began, but he didn't even know where to start. "That was dangerous," he decided to inform you instead.

"But it was fun," you grinned.

Another red light gave him a chance to tuck his softened cock back into his jeans. "We're just a few minutes away, so I don't have time to return the favor," he realized with a frown.

"Don't sweat it, I get the feeling you're gonna more than make it up to me tonight."

"What makes you so sure?" he smirked, even though you were completely right.

"Because I'm gonna take you out somewhere fancy, and you always put out after I buy you dinner," you explained with a chuckle.

"It's cause every time we go out, I have to act all professional and stuff, so when we get home I just can't wait to get my hands on you again."

He pulled in to the parking garage of the studio, finding a spot before turning off the car. You were about to grab your bag but he pulled you into a kiss; not so desperate since he'd just come two minutes ago, but still plenty passionate as his tongue slid over yours in search of the taste of himself to remember what you'd done even clearer.

Your lips moved against his with a quiet little moan, so precious that he couldn't stop himself from gripping your waist tightly.

"You're sure you can't be a few minutes late?" he mumbled, barely pulling back as he reached up and held your face in his hands. "We could get in the back and you could ride me real quick."

"Ah ah ah, we know there's no 'real quick' with you, you said it yourself," you reminded him. "You'll say it's just to take the edge off and then I'll end up folded like a pretzel while you rail me for an hour."

He laughed; he couldn't deny that. "Fair enough. Go to your stupid meeting."

"It won't even take that long," you promised. "And I'll be thinking of you the whole time… hard not to when sucking you off got me so wet."

"Fuck," he growled, "you'd better leave now before I change my mind and make you stay."

You smiled and gave him a peck on the nose before opening the door and getting out of the car. He took a moment to watch you walk away before grabbing his newest borrowed book from the glovebox: Tuck Everlasting. You promised this one wouldn't make him cry which was the only way he agreed to read it because he couldn't handle another sad ending again. And, because he was a little too in love to think straight, he actually believed you.

He hadn't told you yet, though; it was way, way too early for him to feel this way at all, let alone tell you about it. For now, the two of you had something great going, and he didn't want to rush it. Well, he did want to rush it, but he knew he shouldn't, so he kept his feelings to himself for the time being.

//

You were heating up some Vietnamese leftovers on the stove (you’d taught Bucky to stop using the microwave to reheat noodles and now he would never go back) while your boyfriend relaxed on the couch, attempting to find something decent to watch with your meal.

“Hey, one of your movies is on later,” he noticed as he scrolled through the channels. “We could watch that.”

Maybe it was weird that you watched your own movies pretty often— after all, plenty of actors preferred to avoid seeing their own performance— but it made perfect sense to you; you took roles in the kinds of movies that you enjoyed watching and wanted to see more of. It wasn’t that you sought out something you’d been in to watch, and it definitely wasn’t that you didn’t cringe a little watching yourself, but you just happened to like a lot of the things that you’d been in. Plus, they brought back sweet memories. “Oh, which one?” you asked, focusing mainly on stirring the food in the wok.

“After Midnight,” he informed you, and your smile dropped.

“Oh. Um, I don’t like that one,” you dismissed quickly, “what else could we watch?”

“Really?” he pressed, unfortunately not following your segue. “It’s pretty popular… I never saw it, sorry, but I figured I should. Is it not good?”

“No, it’s good, it just—”

“Then what don’t you like about it?”

“Do you not know that I did that movie with Sam Wilson?” you finally blurted out.

“Oh…” he deflated slightly. “You two dated, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, over a year,” you remembered, sounding more somber than you intended.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories,” he frowned, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“No, it’s okay, it’s not bad memories,” you soothed.

“Well, I didn’t mean to bring up any good memories either,” he smirked. “I guess you guys were pretty serious?”

“I thought so,” you answered, leaving the silent second half hanging in the air: He didn’t.

“Kinda sucks you can’t watch your own movie just ‘cause your ex is in it,” he realized.

“Yeah, that one’s especially hard since that’s how we met and all… and I was basically the only person on the planet who didn’t watch Code Gray while it was on,” you remembered. “I mean, everyone was talking about it and I just had to smile and nod and try to ignore the big-ass billboards in LA with his face on them. You get used to that last part, though.”

“Maybe you get used to it, but I don’t think I will,” he admitted.

“I guess it’s easier when you’ve already seen your own face on a billboard,” you shrugged, turning off the stove and distributing the food into two bowls.

"That reminds me, I saw your perfume ad on the side of a skyscraper yesterday," he told you proudly.

"Oh yeah? How's it look?" you asked as you stuck some chopsticks into the food and brought it with you to the living room.

"Looks good, I guess, but it doesn't really look like you to me. You're so airbrushed I couldn't see all my favorite little details of your face," he admitted as you set the bowls on the coffee table.

"That's the nature of the game," you shrugged, joining him on the couch and relaxing against his chest as he embraced you.

“Dating in the public eye must be tough…” he mumbled. You twiddled your thumbs and wondered if that meant he didn’t want to go public with you. He must have sensed your discomfort; he always did. “What’s on your mind, beautiful?”

"Would you ever want to… you know… go public? I wouldn't blame you if you'd rather stay this way as long as possible—"

"What?!" he scoffed. "Baby… I don't care about the spotlight, for better or for worse, I just care about you. And I want to shout it from the fucking rooftops if you'll let me."

You grinned and snuggled up into his arms. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he hummed.

“We could, you know… start that process, if you wanted.”

“What about what you want?” he pressed instead.

“I want everybody to know,” you decided with a smile that you tried (and failed) to fight. “I want to be able to go out with you and not worry about who sees or how you touch me.”

He grinned and kissed you, gentle but a little bit less than innocent. "I want that too," he whispered.

"Then let's do it," you announced giddily. "But, let's have dinner first."

//

He was reading as he waited for you in bed, starting to pick up on the fact that you'd duped him into another heartbreaking read. He was about to confront you about it when you returned from the hallway, but you spoke first.

"I just got off the phone with my publicist," you informed him, "she thinks we should get papped together before I post about it on Instagram."

"'Get papped'?" he repeated incredulously as he slipped a bookmark between the pages and set the novel aside. "Is that some sort of hip slang for getting a pap smear because, I'll warn you now, I’m pretty sure anatomy dictates that we can't do that together."

"Paparazzi," you clarified unamusedly as you got in bed next to him. "She wants us to go to lunch or something and tip off a few photographers; it'll be in the gossip rags by tomorrow."

"God, being famous sounds weird as fuck," he shivered.

"You'll find out for yourself soon," you warned, half ominous and half humorous, as you laid your head on his chest. "You're gonna have your own following once this hits."

He grimaced a little, afraid of becoming slightly famous in his own rite just for dating you when he didn't actually have any talent worthy of attention or praise. “Oh god, I’m not gonna have to make an Instagram, am I?”

"No, but you might want to consider a tinted moisturizer," you pondered aloud as you suddenly examined his face closely.

He gently batted your hand away as you reached up to poke his cheek. "Okay, I get it, I'm old. Makeup ain't gonna fix that."

"You're not old," you laughed, "and it's not that there's anything wrong with your face, it's just that everybody looks washed out on camera and the magazines and their readers are fucking ruthless. If I go out without mascara they'll start running shit about how I'm turning into a crypt keeper. God forbid I wear a tight shirt after eating a massive burrito; they'll pick out baby names for me."

"Christ," he groaned.

"You still wanna do this right?" you asked quietly, shifting from joking to concerned so quickly.

"Of course," he assured, clutching your hand where it had been absent-mindedly rubbing over his chest hair. "Do you?"

"Yeah," you smiled, relaxing again. "I can't wait, honestly."

"Then let's do the lunch thing tomorrow. You have to help me pick what to wear, though." Your arms wrapped around his torso and hugged him tight. "Ooh, don't squeeze me so hard, I ate a lot of Vietnamese food," he frowned.

"Sorry," you giggled, still holding him close but applying less pressure. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, instinctively stroking your arm with his thumb for a moment before leaning over to turn off the lamp on his bedside table.

Yes, his bedside table, with a drawer full of his stuff. Next to your bed. It was like his wildest (yet most domestic) fantasies coming true and he was beside himself about it.

"G'night," you whispered, cuddling up closer to him.

"Goodnight," he whispered back, planting a kiss on the top of your head. He stayed awake just long enough to hear your breathing and feel your heartbeat as they slowed down, only then allowed himself to fall asleep as well.

//

You'd convinced him to stick to his usual style of 90% leather and denim, while you opted for the classic "I'm famous but I'm pretending I'm normal but I'm definitely not" look of jeans and a t-shirt that looked casual but actually cost nearly a grand combined. It was the ideal look for allegedly-candid pap pics, in your mind; unfortunately, the ribs were wanted to order were not part of that look, and you frowned a little as you ordered your salad and gave the menu back to your waitress.

"I'll have the same," Bucky mumbled quickly and handed his menu over as well, the waitress nodding before she stepped away.

"Salad? Really?" you questioned, fixing your hair for a moment since the breeze had messed it up slightly; you had to sit outside for visibility reasons, and thankfully the weather was gorgeous, but you could do without the wind.

"I'm not stupid, I know better than to unhinge my jaw to eat a burger when I'm going to be photographed," he chuckled. "I'm not hungry anyways, I'm too nervous."

"Don't be nervous," you dismissed, "all you have to do is sit here and not suppress the instinct to act like my boyfriend."

He reached forward and rested his hand on top of yours on the table, stroking your wrist with his thumb. "How about this?"

You smiled a little, feeling your face warm; sometimes he made you feel all shy and giddy like that, just from the simplest things.

“So, when are the paparazzi getting here?” he asked, breaking the silence that you hadn't even really noticed before, too lost in your thoughts.

“They’re already here. Across the street, behind those bushes.”

“Wha— oh my god,” Bucky gasped as he craned his head to see there were, in fact, cameras obscured behind the foliage, “they’re good!”

“Yeah, it’s too bad they use their powers for evil most of the time,” you frowned. “Spent a lot of time and money trying to keep less flattering pictures out of the papers.”

“How ‘less flattering’ are we talking here?” he pressed with a raised eyebrow.

“Unfortunate angles while getting out of a car… maybe a rendezvous on a balcony that we thought was totally private…”

“Do I want to know who the ‘we’ was?”

“Nope,” you grinned. "That's all in the past now… and right now I'm here with you." For emphasis, you slipped one of your shoes off and playfully trailed your foot up his leg.

"Careful there, honey, or you're gonna end up with some more dirty pictures to bribe some sleaze into deleting," he warned with a smirk.

"Just gotta make sure these pictures make it clear we're not just friends," you explained, shrugging a little but wiggling your toes as you moved just past his knee before going back down and slipping your shoe on.

"Maybe we're just really, really good friends."

"Ever gotten this personal at lunch with a really, really good friend?" you asked playfully.

"No, I don't think so…"

"Ever had sex in the bathroom of a really fancy restaurant?" you added, voice dropping as you grinned.

"No, and I never will," he laughed, "because the chances of getting caught are astronomically too high. We literally came here for the express purpose of getting caught."

"Yeah, fair enough," you deflated slightly, taking another bite of your salad.

It was easy after that: just talking with him as naturally as you always did. He glanced over at the hidden photographers occasionally but you'd all but forgotten they were there.

"Well, I think our job here is done," you decided after a half hour had passed. You stood up from your chair and he followed suit, but he stopped you before you turned away.

"Not quite yet," he smirked as he pulled you closer and into a kiss— one that just barely pushed into 'a little too steamy for out in public' territory. Even so, he was the one that had to pull away first because you quickly got so lost in it that you would've let him go on forever. "Now we're done."

"Yep, that'll do it!" you laughed, hugging him quickly before dropping a fifty on the table (it was a 40% tip but who cares) and leading him back to the car.

//

His phone was already set to give him news updates about you, and he smirked when he checked it after dinner only to see your plan already in motion so easily.

New photos spark Y/N Y/L/N dating rumors

Is Y/N Y/L/N dating again after highly-publicized romance with ‘Code Gray’ star Sam Wilson?

‘Touch of Blood,’ ‘After Midnight’ Star Spotted At More-Than-Friendly Lunch with Her Bodyguard

Y/N Y/L/N and Mystery Guy Get Frisky Over Salads at Lazan Bistro In The Lower East Side

“Now we just have to wait until tomorrow,” you smirked. “Is it weird that I’m all jittery about it? I mean, it doesn’t really matter, cause we’re the only thing that matters, but—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m excited too,” he agreed, setting his phone down and wrapping his arms around your waist. “Although I am enjoying my last day of anonymity.”

“Soak it in, Bucky-boy, most of us don’t get the chance to really appreciate it before it’s gone,” you giggled. “You should go out and celebrate— go grocery shopping, see a movie, something I can’t do anymore.”

“If you can’t do it anymore, does that mean you’re not coming with me?”

“That’s sort of the point.”

“But I’ll miss you…”

“You’re so needy,” you rolled your eyes. “But I like it,” you added with a peck to his cheek.

“Need anything from the grocery store? Or the movie theater?”

“All I need is a kiss before you go,” you decided.

He purred and pulled you a little closer, ghosting his lips over your cheek. “Do I get to pick where it is?”

“Above the belt,” you scolded playfully.

“That still gives me plenty of options,” he smiled as he leaned down to lift your shirt up, deciding to place his slow, gentle kiss onto your nipple. He wrapped his lips around it carefully, circling his tongue around the bud as it hardened.

“Oh fuck,” you sighed, weaving your fingers into his hair.

He grinned and looked up at you, pulling away just a little too soon to hear your pretty whines. Who’s the needy one now? “Can I give you one more kiss, on the other one?”

“Only in the interest of symmetry,” you smirked, moaning when he moved to the other nipple and sucked it a little harder than the last. He let his teeth just barely graze the sensitive skin, your body jolting in his arms at the sensation.

“Oh, I bit this one but not the first one,” he realized, “so I’m gonna have to go back. For symmetry.”

He kissed his way back and gave a rough lap over it before sucking it between his lips and using his teeth just like he’d promised. “God, just fuck me.”

“Really? I thought you wanted me to go out without you,” he remembered.

“Later,” you sighed, “need you now.”

A prideful grin stretched over his face as he stood back up and held you tight, tapping your back to instruct you to jump into his arms and wrap your legs around his hips— which you did instinctively, much to his delight. “Okay, pretty girl, let’s get you to bed.”

[futurewriter2000]

Dysfunctional - pt. 1

A/N: I'm just bored.

XX

Growth is something only a little amount of people know about. Nobody truly wants to grow but they do, whether they choose to or not, through time they change.

And so as a bad man finds a bible, a good woman finds her power.

Who were you in the eyes of most people? - A question that always floated in the back of your mind. Like a pebble in your shoe, the one you could never get rid of. It was the main question that bothered you all years through Hogwarts, up to a point where you pushed it so far down and completely transformed it.

Who are you in the eyes of yourself?

Foolish question that oddly worked wonders for you and your transformation. You change your mindset, you change yourself right? At least that's what all those Muggle books had been telling you.

All Hogwarts dug their interest in you all of a sudden but you haven't thought much about it. For you, it was as if nothing had changed. You thought you didn't interest anybody and that was what made you keep yourself on the right path to focus on you and the little moments life has to offer.

"I can't believe that's her." Sirius leaned over, staring and smiling.

"Wave a whole banner, don't you." Remus retorded, rolling his eyes.

"If only she wasn't a Slytherin- by the way, how could she had got sorted into Slytherin. Since our interactions had always been so... civil and well... she posed no threat what-so-ever. I'd always imagined her being in a Hufflepuff." James added, meanwhile Sirius sat down and grabbed himself a toast.

"She lives not far from us." started Peter and all eyes turned to him. "(Y/n)." he felt the need to clarify. "I had heard loads of shouting in her house... since we lived there, everybody knew her family situation."

"Rich and spoiled?" Sirius rolled his eyes, taking another bite in his toast.

"Rich and... strict... very strict father and mother..." Peter mumbled, looking at his bread.

"Oh, that's right. Met her father once- loud old sod." James looked back, looking at you laughing with some of other Slytherins- the bad kind that caused his heart to be swallowed by his stomach. "Always so angry..." he continued, looking at you until your eyes met and he quickly turned away.

"She's got nice hair." said Sirius as all of them furrowed their eyebrows at him. "It's just an observation." he shrugged.

---

You had been starting to hang out a lot with the wrong crowd of Hogwarts. Everybody started to notice... everybody started to say they were corrupting you and the changes they noticed were quite massive.

You started talking back to the teachers. Something you have never thought of doing, since your shyness was a large part of your childhood personality. But that was just it... you weren't a child anymore, were you?

You were going out of the classroom when somebody rushed right into you, spilling the coffee in your hand all over you and your books.

The boy's eyes widened as he continued to look at the stains that were starting to show all over your uniform.

"I am so sorry, (Y/N). I swear, I didn't mean to- I just- you appeared out of nowhere-" James started to apologize. You were only staring down, staring at him, then back down and just as James was preparing to be yelled at, hexed at or cursed at you let out a laugh.

"Well hell..." you smiled up at him. "Finally a reason to get a new robe." you let out another laugh, meanwhile James only stood there.

"You're not... mad?"

"Well, being mad wouldn't really do us much favour, would it now?" you picked up your books that weren't that much damaged as you thought they'd be. "Shame for the coffee tho. Can't really function without it."

"Coffee?" he repeated. "You're mad about the coffee?" he started to feel a bit relieved.

"I don't joke about coffee, Potter. You should know that." you wiped the books with the sleeves of your uniform. You started to take off the robe so that you would only stand there in front of him with your shirt, tie and skirt. Only then James started to realise how much your body has changed since the last time he had seen you. Your breast, specifically, where he could see your finely shaped lace bra through the coffee stain. He felt his cheeks go red, radiating through his faint freckles and you couldn't help yourself but to smile.

"I'm so sorr- rry." he muttered again, taking off his robe and offering it to you. "Here. Take it."

"Oh, nice. A Gryffindor robe." you took it and wrapped it around yourself. "Though, I always imagined stealing it." you winked and he let out a laugh.

"Would fit your house perfectly."

"Theft?" you questioned. "No. Not a trait for Slytherins."

"No?" he grinned, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back. "If it's not their trait, then whose is?"

"Mine." you winked again, grabbing the bag from the floor as James grabbed your books. "Now, imagine a Slytherin coming into the common room with a Gryffindor robe. God, I'd piss them all off."

James started to laugh. "You hate your own house?"

"Oh, God no." you let out a laugh as you started to walk beside him and notice him looking at you, observing you. "I just find this house thing rivalry real funny." you said, finding him still staring. You stopped and turned around. "What are you staring at Potter?"

"You, clearly." he pointed out bluntly. "It suits you so much better than me and it clearly doesn't even fit you."

You started to laugh. "Well, don't get jealous over it. I'll give it back to you when we reach the dungeons."

"Oh, you can give it back later?"

"Why?"

"Because you can see everything through the stains. Why do you think I offered it to you? Plus, you said you wanted to piss off Slytherins and I'd like to piss of Slytherins as well."

"A common interest."

"Exactly."

"Though, I think they'll live, knowing I wear a bra and that I have... a body. Maybe they'll finally stop thinking I'm half mermaid or something." you started to joke and so did James. "If I really wanted to piss them off, I'd use a tie because a robe looks like any other robe, really."

James was the one that stopped now, shoving the books he held into your arms and untying his tie.

"No way, you're doing that. I was joking."

"I'm not." he smiled with his teeth and pulled it over his head. He untied yours and pulled it over yours, exchanging it for his own, Gryffindor tie. "Tell me how it goes. " he said just before he left, lifting your tie in his fist. "I'll keep on to this- just in case I don't get mine back.

"Alrighty!" you shouted after him.

---

It wasn't until the next day when James was drowsily eating his breakfast before his practice. You came from behind and scared him half to death. His toast flew from his hand and all eyes flew to the two of you. You squeezed between him and the red-head, completely dismissing her presence as you gave James a cheeky smile.

"Want to know?"

"You made my toast fly away." he siad drowsily.

"And you made my coffee make love to the floor. Now do you want to know?"

"How are you so chirp this morning? It's not even seven?"

"Got up at 2am. Had like two coffees since then. Anyway. Do you want to know?"

"Two in the morning? Hell, why did you get up so early- that's not even early... that's like late. And yeah, I do want to know." he started t wake up to the news.

"Been studying all week at night and now I sleep in the noon and am awake in the night. Fun." you chirped.

"Okay- tell me what happened?"

"The looks- oh, my God, you should have been there when I walked it. It was like I murdered their entire family."

"No-" he let out a laugh.

"Mulciber came to me." you started to talk in a more drama-spilling tone and James got excited.

"I thought the two of you were like friends."

"Us? Maybe in another dimension but like-

' *flashback*

"What the hell are you wearing?" he stomped to you and grabbed you by your tie, to which you shoved away in a second.

"Haven't you seen this new trend? I think it goes with- you are what you eat." you started to tease, turning around like a fashion model as you placed your hands on your hips. "Or in this case, you wear what you eat and I eat coffee every day, any day." you winked.

"And the tie?"

"You like?" you continued, seeing the little jealousy burn in his eyes, except you knew far well it wasn't jealousy. It was possessiveness and you'd rather go to hell than be anybody's property. "It's from my new beau." you fanned yourself, wrapping yourself in his robe and peeking through it. "A prince on white horse came to me today-"

"Be serious, (y/n)."

"I am dead serious." you pouted playfully. "He rushed on his horse and knocked me down, spilled my poor coffee all over me. It was like love at first sight. He scooped me into his arms and said 'Oh, dear! How could I have hurt this beautiful creature.-"

"You really didn't say that?" James interrupted the story telling, laughing as the other's who were surrounding you laughed with you.

"I did. Now let me go back."

- "He didn't say that!" Mulciber rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me you're shagging a Gryffindor?"

"I'm not." you started to get more serious. "And if I would be, would it be such a bad thing doing one? I mean, you only live once, why would it be wrong not taking a taste of all four cakes." you teased again, causing him to grow redder in his pale skin.

"You stole it."

"It was pleasantly exchanged."

"Exchanged?"

"A tie for a tie." you smiled.

"Why don't we go, eye for an eye?"

"Because nobody wants to give their eye, silly." you continued.

"You really annoy me, you know."

"I do and I really do not care. I only want to go to my room and take a nap."

"I will find out, you know!"

"I don't care!"

"Who was it?!"

"Dumbledore!"

*end of fashback*

"You're crazy." James continued to laugh.

"A little dysfunctional but not crazy." you winked and got up.

"And my things?"

"Do you got mine?"

"No, I didn't think I'd see you this early."

"Well then... guess they are mine now." you leaned forward, an inch apart as both of you continued to grin at each other, not another word spoken. You didn't dare to look anywhere else than his hazel eyes, such a wonderful mixture of green, brown and yellow. It amazes you how somebody can have such a wonderful eye colour. He didn't even only have one colour but three. "Pretty." you said, still smiling and pulled away, jumping back on your feet as he turned to you, smiling.

"Wait!" Sirius spoke before you could leave. "When did... when did you become best friends?"

"We didn't." James answered and you looked down at him, raising an eyebrow and feeling amused.

"No. We just made blood bond nobody else could break." you spoke mysteriously, putting your elbows on James' shoulders and placing your head on top of his, staring at Sirius. "And now we will secretly plan the end of the world. Muahahah." you joked, standing back up as the others laughed. "See you later Potts." and with that you were gone as the other watched you.

"What... just happened?" Remus started laughing, amazed.

"They made a blood bond." Sirius pointed his finger at you disappearing.

James started laughing. "Maybe now I can ask her about what she does with her hair for you." James got up and winked at Sirius.

"Oh, would you? I really want to know." Sirius stood up and started to walk behind him. "Just... say it's for Lily or something."

James started laughing again, then realising. "Oh, shit!" he turned around, searching for the red-head that was sitting beside him. "She was telling me something when (y/n) appeared. I totally forgot about her."

Sirius started laughing loudly, tapping James' shoulder. "Good luck getting her attention now."

[writingforyourpleasure]

I have a thing for Car wash

Genre: NonIdol!AU, SummerJob!AU

Pairing: OT7 x Reader

Summary: You do car wash as a summer job each year. But this year , 7 new employees are added to the mix.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: none

A/N: Thoses Butter's concept photoshoot are gonna be the death of me ...

______

Summer’s Job never been dreamy or appealing you always preferred to stay home and play games or hangout with your friends.

You were doing the same summer job from your high school’s years throughout your UNI years, this year was the last year where you could work at the same gas station you usually spent your summer’s at. You were quite happy about this news because your work there wasn’t really enjoyable to say the least.

You were working as car washer.

The staff was limited to you and Gladys. Gladys was an Australian grandma’ with an heavy accent and a loud voice.

You used to complain about the underpaid job and understaff issue to her each year , but even if she tried her best to pay you more each year, the problem of understaff was remaining.

Plus you had the marvelous advantage , note the irony, to be a woman. So of course you had some guy every now and then asking you for some porn kink including cars and water to you.

And of course as soon as you dared to say to them that it was not respectful of them to ask for such favors , well their ego feeling insecure will make them insult you ‘til Gladys will come out and try to dissolve any trouble. And if they didn’t leave… well then Tallulah will come help you out. Were Gladys was a true perfect cottage core granny , Tallulah her spouse, was a weightlifting Olympics coach. So she was , massive and looked very frightening.

But since she was often occupied most of the time Gladys would have to do the trick , and if too much persistent she would call her little brother Jeff a policeman always coming in and out of the shop to check on things.

It was nice, for a summer or two, but seeing as it’s been years since you were first introduce to this summer’s job to say it became painfully annoying was an understatement.

And this year would be the same…

Or so you though.

Gladys finally took your complains about the car wash job being understaffed and recruited a few people to help out .

When she said a few, you though she was talking about 2 to 3 people.

But no, no non no no no. Gladys took in 7 people !

She promised you your check wouldn’t take any damage by the presence of those new employees , but you sincerely doubt that.

And of course you’ll have to show them around and proceed to show them how to wash a car because of course it’s not like anybody could know how to do it by themselves.

You were moody when that tons of information’s felled down on your head, but now finding yourself in front of the 7 new employees changed everything.

Apparently Gladys misspelled car wash job for model’s photoshoot coz’ those 7 boys were for sure way too beautiful to need a car wash job.

It had to be a prank, right?

So being more self aware in what you’ve been for years you showed carefully those men of to do the job. And no it wasn’t cute or sexy, far from it.

You were dressed in your yellow hoodie and black jogging with flip-flop.

For once you wished you had were those fucking shorts looking like panties more than anything, and a crop top or something similar, like all those freaks watching too much porn often asked you to.

But no , and those guys were dressed in matching outfits in jeans and whites tee.

Even if they were very dreamy swoon over , you had more pressing issues to think about.

Like why one of them started a water fight with another one, and putting a stop to it before one of them put soap into their eyes.

“Okay guys!!! Please stop …? I don’t want to have to report you to Gladys on your first day okay? So keep that behavior for when you’re on your own okay?”

“Sorry , we didn’t meant to …” Said one.

“Huh sorry to interrupt , but none of us seems to have catch your name earlier ?” Said the guy with blue hair.

You liked his hair, it was nice, like blue waves , more darker on the edges and lighter on the center of his scalp. He had such beautiful eyes too, so sharp an-

Oh god , wait did you really lost yourself by admiring him?!

“Huh miss???”

“Y-Yeah !!! Haha my name’s Y/N !” You extended your hand , losing your mind for talking in a higher voice to him , good job at not being suspect Y/N….

And you hated yourself even more for being awkward by presenting your hand to him. But he, on the other hand sensed your discomfort and made your move seem completely normal shaking your hand lightly and giving you a cute smile showing off his dimples.

“Namjoon,…. And those two are Jungkook and Taehyung, and I hate to be the one breaking it to you but we’re probably gonna have a hard time keeping them calm.”

“Oh… Okay” You just ended , looking to the two guys involved in the previous water fight, and looking back to Namjoon’s face. He was calm and put you at ease. Hargh you were staring , good job on not being a freak Y/N .

The one all covered in jean from head to toe approached you, and ever so silently spoke to you.

“Hate to be a bother Y/N, but can I have a bucket to wring out my sponge, please?”

“Huh Yeah of course huh-hu….”

“Yoongi’s the name…”

“Oh huh well yeah let me get that from Gladys to you okay I’ll be back in just a sec Yoongi.”

He nodded very calm much to your dismay as you were starting to feel anxious about advising Gladys for more employees, maybe you should have just shut it.

You entered the store who basked in a sunny light as the morning was starting to begin for most of other people’s in the city.

At the register was one of the new employees, he wore a plaid skirt and converse’s with a white thee and jean shirt. You couldn’t believe how gracious his lips draw themselves on his face. They looked pillowy and as dreamy as the six other’s man out there waiting for you.

“Huh hello ? You might remember me from earlier ? Y/N the foremost employee?”

“Of course I do you’re the sweet mango! “

“I’m sorry what ?”

“The sweet mango ! The color of your sweatshirt look alike a mango!”

“I-I Yeah it does…”

“Would you like another nickname maybe? I’m sorry if this one doesn’t fit your style haha. What about little mouse ?”

“Do I look like a little mouse ?”

“No ,you look like a fucking rat”

Said another voice coming from behind you.

“I beg you pardon?”

You turn over to the masculine voice behind you to find yourself facing a chest. Your eyes flew up to the face of the stranger, ready to take down any bratty client. And you were surprised to face a smiling shit eating brunette man glancing down at you . He was snickering and looking at you like he was mentally undressing you with his eyes.

“Yah ! Jin ! Don’t be rude to our new friend!”

You look down to the content in his arms, some sandwiches squeezed between bottles of water.

“Wait your on job duty ! Why aren’t you with the others ?” You started to take over yourself and focus on your task, keeping everything organized.

“Some of us forgot to bring our lunch to work this morning , so I volunteered to go for it , but you’ve been blocking the line too preoccupied to talk to mister big flirt over there.”

He gestured at the cashier.

“We weren’t flirt-“

“You totally were!” Gladys interrupted you coming out from the back of the shop with several boxes of energy bars .

“Gladys I would ne-“

“Don’t lie to me girl ! Okay Jimin go fill up the shelves with those and Jin , you’re lucky you have a nice face, it’s on the house for today so go back to work will you now?”

“Sure thing Gladys! Thank you so much !” He offered her a wink before smirking down at you , going back to his devices.

“AND SHE DOESN’T LOOK LIKE A RAT! BUT YOU SURE TALK LIKE A BRATT!!!” Shouted Gladys at Jin, while a girl was approaching him to take care of her car and asking for his number. He was a blushing mess and Tae had to intervene to talk an eligible sentence to, the poor lost girl, after that.

“Now, Y/N what do you need sweetheart? I mean other than Jimin’s number of course?” She had said it loud enough for Jimin to hear it and bringing a cute smile on his face content of his accomplishments.

“Gladys please stop. “ You warned her with a tired face. She maybe looked old but she was fearless for sure .

“I need extra buckets for the boys, please.”

She leaved the register for what felt only two seconds before bringing over 5 extra buckets for you , to share.

“Thank you , you’re a life savior!”

“I know , should have started a sect when it was trendy.”

You left laughing to her dumb joke , but not before quickly glancing to Jimin. After that event you formed three distinct groups between all of you to get their heads in the game.

But with Jimin busy with helping out Gladys around the store, one of them was standing by himself.

“Okay since your alone I’ll help out for today.”

“Really? Thank you so much I was worried I’ll found myself alone when everyone’s having fun in groups.”

You looked around to indeed found them more busy playing around then actively work in silence .

“Yeah well normally having so much fun isn’t part of the job but I don’t want to kill the mood.”

“I’m Hoseok by the way but you can call me Hobi ! “ He said with a heart shaped smile.

“Y/N. Haha did you had to see Jimin assigning you a nickname too?”

“No this one’s for my crushes .” He said glancing up at you with stars shining eyes behind the comfort of his sunglasses.

“Yah! Hobi Does it mean I’m one of your freaking crushes?!” Yelled a not-so-speechless Jin , across the parking lot.

“Why don’t you come found out ?!” Yelled back a way too enthusiast Hoseok.

The day went by pretty quietly apart from those 7 agents of chaos you were stuck with from now.

Lunch came around pretty quickly and you all went to the back of the shop to have your break there , enjoying the nice breeze of the fan, while chatting.

“So , how come you’re all working here this summer?” You asked between bites of your meal.

“My aunt knows Gladys and told me she was recruiting , and since I was in need of a job I took it.” Said Jimin looking at you oh so charmingly.

“I have a thing for car wash.” Said Jin like it was completely normal.

“Your such a weirdo something hyung I swear… I was in need of a summer job saw the flyers by the campus and thought why not ? Here I am.”

Replied Jungkook slowly slurping down his noodles.

“We wanted to prove some sexist asshole that , no it wasn’t , a job only reserved to women.” Said a disgusted Namjoon swallowing quickly his part of the sandwich.

“I want to be a social entrepreneur.”

Said Taehyung leaving you with wide eyes.

“How is that related to bein-“

“If I succeed to make this place a rentable place from just the car wash then I could do anything.”

“And how would you do that ?” asked Jin dismissing his lunch to look over at Taehuyng.

“What about a photoshoot?”

[vminity21]

Speak Now | myg

Pairing: groom!yoongi x bestfriend!reader

Word Count: 3,124

Genre: angst/fluff

Warning(s): curse words used, mention of a toxic relationship, mention of advances toward infidelity Rated: pg 13

Summary: When the love of your life is about to marry the wrong person, you muster up enough courage to profess your heart before it is too late. By late, you mean the day of your best friend’s wedding.

Credits to: @suhdays​ for making the cover, you are my favorite! 

With clammy palms, you relieve a steady breath descending into the pew while bundles of people bustle through the chapel doors in search for a place to sit. You picked the first available section that you saw and with a silent prayer, you hope that whoever chooses the same row will maintain their distance. With your mind racing, you frantically observe the scenery encompassing the audience from the colorful stained windows, the mahogany pulpit to the rich color of the carpet- absolutely anything to distract you from the overwhelming anxiety plaguing your tightening chest. There is, rather, one thing you are searching for. More like, someone. You are aware he is hidden in a room in preparation for the event about to take place, but unbeknownst to him, you did reluctantly, after many nights of pondering, decide to show up with a mission in tow. Your heart shattered in millions of pieces when you discovered, scrolling through social media, that Yoongi’s wedding ceremony was shared on his wall.  

Upon assumption, you were not invited to the event for reasons you are certain of. But this post gave you a date and a time to organize your thoughts and the words that you want to say.

Since elementary school, you and Yoongi have been inseparable. Thick as thieves as your best friend Monnie would say; two peas in a damn pod her boyfriend Jeongguk would say, and even your mother supported the dream of you and Yoongi getting married one day. That day seemed to vanish suddenly even though Yoongi has been your best friend for as long as you can remember, and regardless of him being taken, you have also been his shoulder to lean on throughout his incredibly toxic relationship with his soon to be bride to be. The comical part of it all to you is that she has never been fond of you from the beginning which you inwardly knew it boiled down to jealousy. And as you figured, you were not invited because she demanded so.

Anger brims harshly beneath you and in attempt to clear your unwanted thoughts, you shake your head. She’s irrelevant anyway. It is Yoongi I am here for. In the end, you are here for one reason and one reason only. For Yoongi to know how you feel about him once and for all.

“Y/N?” Jung Hoseok approaches you, one out of the six best friends Yoongi has other than you. From afar, shoulder leaned against the brick wall of the school, you stared in evident longing as Yoongi set his backpack in his car irritatingly. A fight unfolded between him and his girlfriend and the pair were oblivious to you being a witness. Uncertain of yet again why she was mad at him, you turned to face Hoseok with a gasp of surprise since he unexpectantly caught you hiding.  “Look,” he wets his lips, “If you don’t tell him how you feel, I will.”

“Please don’t!” You gasp, watching your volume as you switch your gaze to make sure Yoongi and the blundering wench hadn’t seen your presence. Turning to Hoseok, you plead, “It’s not-! What if?” You sigh, “What if I can’t? What if he still doesn’t get it?”

“But she’s not good for him and you know it. If there’s anybody who deserves each other it’s the two of you,” Hoseok’s expression becomes saddened when you look away from him. Emotions gather in the form of tears as you fight to hold them back.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be standing here telling you to confess to him if I felt it was a bad idea.”

The church pews continue to become occupied until the echoes of conversation simmer to cease once the out of tune organ cringingly serenades the atmosphere. Wincing in response, you grit your teeth to stifle a giggle because of course the wench of the west would choose the most untuned instruments there are. Ultimately, how fitting can this be for a wedding that should not even be happening? Turning to look at the first coupled bridesmaid and groomsman, memories start to churn when you see each of Yoongi’s friends. Hoseok was not the only one who warned you ahead of time to profess your feelings for Yoongi.

“So, when are you going to tell Yoongi you’re ‘unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him?’” Taehyung’s fluffy curls fall into his eyes as his cheeky grin enters your vision. He is leaned over the back of the couch as he bounces from his knees hitting the cushion.

“And this concludes the last and final time that I will ever watch Twilight with you,” you announce, crinkling at the wrapper of a rice krispie treat from the kitchen. “I’m not as wanted as Bella Swan.”

“You see that’s where you’re wrong. What makes you think you are the only one who feels the connection?”

Pausing from your eventual snack, you glare at your friend, “I’m not in love with him,” you denyingly mutter.

“Your eyes say you are.”

“Gah! Taehyung, how many times do I have to tell you that it’s not going to happen, alright? He has a girlfriend. Obviously if he wanted me, he could have chosen me a long ass time ago. We’ve been in each other’s lives all this time, so why hasn’t he said anything?”

“Have you ever considered that maybe he thought he couldn’t?”

“Excuse me?”

“As being a previous ex of yours, let me explain.”

“We dated for two days. In the first grade!”

“It counts.”

You scoff, pressing the krispie treat underneath your palm as you lean onto the counter to steady your rising nervousness. After a moment, you signal for Taehyung to proceed.

“I think you tend to forget that you’re not the only one who is afraid to confess your feelings to someone. Yoongi may be afraid, too.”

You shrug in reply.

“You are his best friend, Y/N. Maybe he didn’t want to be at fault for ruining a friendship if you happened to not feel the same, so he settled for her.”

He’s right, and deep down beneath the fear, you know it. Stepping toward Taehyung, you ruffle his frilly tendrils, “I loathe you.”

Playfully slapping you away, he chuckles, “Hence why I force you to binge watch chick flicks with me. I loathe you, too.”

Taehyung and his bridesmaid LenLen remain poker faced as they gradually step down the aisle. The memory of Taehyung fades when you find Namjoon sitting alone staring straight ahead with the same expression and another flashback ensues.

After ranting about how hurt you are by the upcoming wedding date, Namjoon visits to console you since counseling is something he does daily, and he is the perfect friend who listens to every word you say other than Min Yoongi. “I just don’t get it. She treats him so poorly and all it does is break my heart. And of course, I never got an invite. She despises me!”

With crossed arms, Joon’s glasses sit daintily on his face while the turtleneck he is wearing shapes his frame- he looks incredibly professional even on his day off. “Yoongi asked me to be in the wedding,”

“Oh?” you say, “As he should. You are one of his best friends,”

“I am, but she happens to despise me, too.”

“What?” You gasp incredulously, “How could? Joon, how do you even know that?”

He settles upon the couch while your gaze follows him, a brief sigh brushes his lips, “He asked me to marry them which she openly opposed.”

“That’s.. That’s a really huge deal, Joon. So, are you going to do it anyways?”

“No,” Namjoon responds quickly, “The reason she despises me is because she thinks I will ruin her and Yoongi’s relationship, the same as she sees you- a threat.”

“But how?”

Joon rubs at the crease in his eyebrows, “She made advances toward me when they first started dating, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him which is why I can’t push you to tell him your truth until you are ready. I was scared he would think I was lying. The last time I saw her was at a sports game and when he left to grab her a drink, she started touching my thigh and I left immediately.”

“That’s why,” your voice trails off as you remember something, “That’s why Yoongi was so worried about you! Because you never miss a game with him! It was because of that conceited, selfish bi-”

“Hey, let’s not stoop to her level. I strongly dislike her as well, she put me in a very uncomfortable position which is why I am never around when she is. I refuse to be pictured as whatever she decides to manipulate.”

“Joon,” you murmur, leaning forward to squeeze his shoulder, “We all know who you are. Yoongi adores you. Knowing how she is, we would have believed you over her most definitely. Are you going to attend the wedding at all?”

“I’m not sure,” your eyes flicker between his as sadness clouds them, “I want him to be happy and the only person he would be happy with is you.”

It was silent immediately after Namjoon said those words that are still repeating within your mind. Did all of Yoongi’s friends concoct a plan to nudge you to profess the entirety of your heart to him? And what happened to Namjoon was so cruel and it was the final straw that motivated and fueled you to do exactly what you are about to do today. She doesn’t deserve Yoongi, she doesn’t deserve his family, she doesn’t deserve his friends, and she most definitely doesn’t deserve his love. It is time for Min Yoongi to know the truth and nothing but the truth.

The piano chimes in with the organ clashing hideously as the time drags, and you notice Hoseok who is arm and arm with a bridesmaid you are unfamiliar with, stifling the urge to react to the disconcerted music. He takes his place where the best man stands and links his hands before him- a quick grin is shared with whoever he makes eye contact with and his dimples appear for the slightest of seconds. Seokjin and Jimin as well as Jeongguk are completely lined already and when Guk finally locks eyes with Monnie who is sitting in the audience, they share loving smiles. After today, if all works accordingly, Yoongi will be yours and you no longer would envy the love you always longed for with him.

Looking back especially after all the encouragement from you and Yoongi’s friends, there are moments where you almost worked up the bravery to tell him the truth, but it seemed with every opportunity, his girlfriend would find some way to interfere. It was as if she disturbingly knew your schedule and your thoughts which is something you never truly admitted to your friends. You didn’t want her to sound like an excuse that is holding you back from saving Yoongi’s heart from further turmoil.

Flitting your gaze to the handsome lineup of groomsmen, you realize not even one is smiling. Before you can contemplate further on all the reasons why there aren’t any smiles, you move your gaze just for your heart to halt instantly. There he is. Min Yoongi, the love of your life, dressed in a well fitted tuxedo that clings to his thin frame, makes his way timidly to stand in front of the pulpit. His blonde hair spreads neatly upon his forehead while his lips stay in a firm line once he takes a moment to fix the cuffs of his sleeves before resting his hands together in front of him. Gaping at how beautiful he looks; the nerves swerve tremendously inside you because the time is inching closer for you to tell him everything without holding back.

Your shoulders tense once the reverend directs the audience to rise, you are so focused on Yoongi, you hardly can hear the beginning of the wedding march as you swallow roughly. Standing to your feet, your hands are freezing when you hold them together, yet you muster enough to turn to see her make her entrance- the bride who wanted to hold captive of Yoongi’s heart. It’s hard to watch her smile at him as if she truly cares for him, it takes everything not to feel nauseated by the scene. The way she has treated Yoongi, Namjoon, and everyone else it feels like, will never settle with you. The times she obsessively called Yoongi whenever the pair of you would study together, interrupting the time he wanted to spend with his guy friends, or the curse words she would spew at him when she didn’t have her way; or the times she made him cry by threatening to leave him just to turn around and post a selfie of her and a random guy to make Yoongi jealous. So of course, Namjoon would have been heard. He has a heart of gold as well as the rest of the crew. And Yoongi deserves to surround himself with this serene positivity.

She stands before Yoongi as the two join hands. He hardly gives a smirk; doubt seems to exist within his glance, or so you hope. Your icy palms clasp together once the preacher bellows for the guests to now take their seats. The ceremony proceeds, yet you wait for the preacher to say the exact words you are desperately wanting to hear. Lightheaded, you feel the blood drain from your body despite the hammering your heart is profusely beating against your rib cage.

Never in your life did you dream you were going to do what you are about to do. It is bold. It is courageous. And you could care less about what the aftermath will be. The only person whose reaction matters is Min Yoongi’s. The reverend seems to drag his sentences, but when he clears his throat, you straighten your back in preparation for what is coming next.

“Speak now or forever hold your peace.”

Here’s your chance.

Hands shaking, body trembling, you jolt from your seat,

“I. OBJECT!”

Dramatic responses of collected gasps reverberate to the ceiling of the building. Eyes turn to stare at you in congruent with the hushed whispers scattering amongst the pews wondering why you made such a bold choice; and, if looks could kill, you would drop lifeless by the dark daggers burning through your skull by the witch trying to be Yoongi’s forever. Fingertips numb, you try to tune out the raving murmurs, you hadn’t realized you closed your eyes for a few seconds to gather yourself, and when you open them, they instantaneously connect with Yoongi’s that enlarged in shock. His thin lips part and as you gaze at him, tears pool though you relentlessly try to fight them.

“Yoongi,” you speak between stammered breaths, “I know this is…. Sudden, and possibly the most insane thing I am ever going to do,” you put a quivering hand to your lips for a second then dropping it to your side, “But Yoongi, if there is anyone who deserves to spend the rest of their life with you, it’s me.” You cannot believe that sentence slipped from your mouth, but in your heart, you know it’s the truth. Just like that, without your knowledge, smiles begin to bloom from the men standing by Yoongi’s side. Not only do you see it, but so has everyone else who has been in each of your lives. Why else would his “bride to be” have been jealous of you since their whole relationship began a few years ago? She could even sense the chemistry you and Yoongi have shared and still share.

“Yoon, she will never see you the way I see you; the way your family sees you; or the way your best friends see you.” From your peripheral vision, you see a gleamingly proud Hoseok along with Namjoon whose hopes are flying as high as yours, but your gaze never once falters from Yoon’s. Wetting your lips, you continue, “I know you. I have always known you. And you deserve the world and so much more.” Yoongi steps forward then pauses to hear more of what you have to say, “And Yoon,” a tear escapes, trailing warmly down your burning cheek, “I am deeply, undoubtedly, and wholeheartedly in love with you.”

In that moment, Yoongi begins to walk down the stairs, Taehyung’s boxy smile lights up his face as he fist pumps excitingly in the air. You may not have used the exact words from his favorite script, but you know you are beyond words with how much you are in love with Min Yoongi. The horrified bride agonizingly tries to stop Yoongi, but he refuses to take his eyes off you, brushing past her, she lights up in prominent rage. You, with glistening hope sparking across your soul, you shuffle past the gawking people in the pew, ready to crash into Yoongi’s arms.

When he reaches you, his tepid palms cup your face, swiping away the tears that just keep falling as you stare into his umber eyes that mirror the emotions you have brought to him that he is finally seeing. Before you can take a breath, he leans in, capturing your kiss exactly how he has desired, but never found the courage to reveal, that he in fact would dream of you too on countless nights. Or when he felt uneasy or sad, he would relive the best memories that happened to be with you to give him peace. Everything you have ever dreamed of is coming true as the fireworks explode in every direction within your chests. He kisses you so passionately that you both forget about the world, your hands dig into the sides of his tuxedo jacket as he deepens the kiss, tugging him as close as he can be.

Namjoon starts clapping as he stands to his feet until the entire place erupts in a fit of cheers. Even though hundreds of people are encompassing the two of you, it still feels like it is only you and Yoongi within the vast universe. How long have you waited for this moment with the one person you have loved for so long? How many stars had you wished on to finally end up where the two of you are now?

Breathless, Yoongi rests his forehead to yours while the sensation of his kiss still lingers, dazed and filled with immense happiness, you gaze at him fully, he speaks, “I love you, Y/N. I love you so much.”

[i-ate-the-whole-entire-pie]

Call Me Mother, Chapter One

I languidly drained the last breath from my cigarette, the drag filling my lungs. My garter straps hung down lazily, tickling my thighs, as they awaited their purpose. Music thumped rapidly, and whoops of delight resounded through the hall. The dressing room door swung open; a small, but curvaceous woman behind it.

Her eyebrows were tweezed to perfection, eyes deeply shadowed, eyelashes false and curled into large feathery swoops; her mouth was like a plump strawberry. I’d always harbored a mild curiosity about how it tasted.

“Mary, you’re up in 10 minutes. I want you at the curtain in five," Cristella said, her hispanic accent thick.

“Is that a new corset?” I asked. Cristella turned me around, and yanked the laces of my corset together. Thank god I haven’t needed to breathe for the last 150 years, I thought. I floated a small influence her way. Gentler, please. She complied, unwittingly. They always do.

I don’t normally use my influence on people I like, but I’m far too hungry to risk her pinching me with this corset. I couldn’t forgive myself if I lost control. She was far too kind to die a death that violent.

“It is. This papí chulo I’ve been seeing said he wanted me to wear it for him. Maybe he’ll tip better," she said, carefully pulling the slack out of the lower half of my corset. I placed my hands over my belly, holding everything in place.

“What’s the crowd looking like?” I tucked the ties away. She jutted a hip out, and began counting off on her impeccably manicured fingers.

“The usual crowd. Old Man Carraway, that one divorcee who drinks like a fish. College kids. Oh, there’s also these dudes in silver masks. Low-key kind of demonic. And some weird guy in like, face paint? He’s painted up like a calavera. I figured they came from that concert that was in town. You know, the one that church was protesting? Say they like worship Satan or something?”

“Sounds about right." I bent down to attach my straps to the garters of my stockings.

“They’re probably here for a private room, so I figured I’d put you on now. You’re good at handling the weirdos." Cristella giggled, watching me struggle to get the backs of my stockings attached. She and I broke into fits of giggles, as she chased me in circles, trying to help me attach my stockings.

“Let me get that. Hurry up and get on stage!” she said, giving me a playful smack on the ass. I pranced out of the room, trying to avoid her grasping mitts.

“Hey! No bruising the merchandise!” I giggled, linking arms with her as we strutted backstage, perfectly in step with one another. She grabbed the microphone from Mike the Mic Guy, gave me a wink, and stepped through the curtain.

“Aaaaand we’re back! Now, this next lady I’ve got lined up for you is quite a treat. She’s as pale as cream, thicker than a bowl of oatmeal, and will definitely step on you. Well, she might if you tip well. For legal reasons, we can’t call her “Elvira,” so I guess we’ll settle for… MOTHER! MARY!” That was my cue. I sauntered through the curtain, my hips moving like a figure eight. I moved across the stage, “Lullaby” by the Cure playing. I always chose various genres of rock for my acts. Not that I have anything against the other girls’ music choices… but there’s only so much female rap you can play in one night. As I began to dance, I noticed the group that Cristella had mentioned earlier. They were sitting front and center, near the edge of the stage.

Seven of the masked figures sat around the Painted Man, as I had labeled him. Two of the masked figures seemed effeminate, and the other five seemed more masculine. They all ranged in different shapes and sizes. Maybe the masks are a fetish thing? Cristella did say that they came from a concert… Something about them seemed off. I did a swing around the pole, dropping into a fireman, trying to catch a scent. It was a whirlwind of scents, none of them too out of the ordinary. Except the beefy one. He smelled like midnight. I don’t know how to explain it. What really caught my interest though was the Painted Man. Specifically, his eyes. One of them was grey, the iris almost black. The other eye had a pale, white iris. It suited him, and it was beautiful, in an eerie way. Those eyes looked at me, as I danced around the stage, and they knew me. If I had a working heart still, it would be racing.

As Robert Smith crooned, I descended the stairs of the stage as sensually as one could in Pleaser heels, making my way to the Painted Man. If I wanted to know what these people were, I’d have to get a closer look. The Painted Man patted one of his legs with a gloved hand, and cocked his head to the side. I took the invitation, but not before I teased him. I crouched between his legs, running my hands up his thighs. As I rose, I walked my hands up his thighs, bringing my face closer to his. His breath graced my skin, smelling faintly of licorice. As he leaned in, for what I could only assume was a kiss, I rose again, strutting over to one of the masked beings. It was the smaller of the male ones. I sat in his lap, letting him run his hands over me as I began to grind on his lap. His growing erection told me I was going to have a busy night.

“Your boss is a little too eager," I whispered, getting a good whiff of him. He smelled faintly of smoke. I put my hands on his chest, trying to keep my balance. No heartbeat.

“What makes you think he’s my boss?” The being asked petulantly. He grabbed onto my waist, as he began to grind with me. I moved his hand to the small of my back, and leaned back in a dip. The being ran his other hand over my belly, in between my breasts, and up to my throat, bringing me back up to his masked face.

“You’re the one wearing a uniform." I darted my tongue out to lick my lips. What is he? My mind raced as I tried to run through every supernatural creature I’d ever known. But then I heard it. I barely even understood it. All I picked up was price and one night. It was Ghoulish. The taller female ghoul was asking about what I can only assume was my hourly rate. Most strip clubs in this part of Vegas were just fronts for brothels. However, it’s hard to sell the idea of prostitution to Mid-Western vanilla tourists. So most of my income was made from stripping. I usually had one or two clients I went to bed with a night. It wasn’t very stable, but then again, I had less expenses than the average stripper, considering my “condition."

“Tell your friend my basic hourly rate is $500. My Ghoulish isn’t any good." I stood up, and made my way to the female ghoul’s lap.

“How do you know Ghoulish?” she asked, a bit of surprise in her tone. I bent over in front of her, shaking my ass for her. She put a couple of bills in the waistband of my panties, punching my previous ghoul in the arm. He forked over some cash as well.

“I’m not human. I’ll leave it at that," I said, stuffing the cash into the top of my corset. Dear lord… All hundreds… The female ghoul rubbed my thighs, turning me back around slowly, so as to admire my ass.

“Could we get a room after your number? I think a private dance is in order," she said, in broken Ghoulish. I nodded, and as if on cue, the lights and music began to fade out. As I began to walk back up the stairs to the stage past the Painted Man, his hand darted forward to smack my ass. God, it really is not the night for this shit. My more animalistic nature took over, and before I could stop it, a hiss left my lips. As if of their own accord, my fangs sprung painfully through my gums. I heard a snap, and looked over to see the largest ghoul stand up. He shook his head. Thank god the lights were low. Embarrassed, I covered my mouth, and made my way across the stage.

“What the fuck was that all about?” Mike the Mic Guy asked, handing a mic to Cristella. I still had my hand over my mouth. Cristella looked worried.

“Are you okay Mary? I can get you some tea if you’re keyed up." I shook my head.

“Please get a room ready. The Freak Parade wants a private dance," I said as I walked away, silently cursing myself. Once back in the dressing room, I threw open the mini-fridge I normally kept padlocked. I looked to the last bottle I had left in my stash. Hopefully it hasn’t clotted, I thought, throwing the bottle back. This wouldn’t end my thirst, but it would certainly quell the burning in my throat. You nearly lost it. You need to bag one of these stupid fucks tonight, or else. I hadn’t had a bad case of blood lust in decades, but the combination of winter holidays, my strict schedule, and FOSTA-SESTA had really cut off my food supply.

The door opened, and Cristella came in with a cup of tea. She looked at the flask in her hand and cocked a brow.

“And you didn’t offer to share. What is that? Cuervo? Henny?” she said, reaching for the flask. I shook my head, and put it back in the fridge, closing the padlock.

“It’s cough syrup. I keep it under lock and key because of that bitch Ronnie. She’s not fooling anybody. You ever see how much her hands shake? Too much caffeine? Yeah, right. We all know what the DTs look like." I began changing into a burgundy velvet bra and panty set, pairing it with some burgundy gloves and stockings. Finally, I found a pair of sparkly Loboutins Lydia had left me. My mind rolled back through the streets of Paris to 1991, when Louboutin opened its first salon. Lydia smiled, as I kissed her shin, helping her into the heel. She looked down at me, her eyes full of love, and the corner of her mouth hiding a kiss just for me.

“Yeah, she is pretty suspish. What happened with those weirdos out there?” Cristella interrupted my memory. I shook my head. Are you just imagining your heartache?

“Oh the big guy was just mad because I didn’t get around to him. That’s why I wanted you to get the room. Plus, I might be able to secure a nice check from these guys. They all seemed absolutely randy," I said. Cristella shook her head, giggling. The gloss in my hand made a popping noise, as I pulled the wand from the bottle. It was my favorite flavor, watermelon.

“I can ask one of the boys to sit in, to keep them from getting too handsy," Cristella said. I shook my head. It would only keep me from getting too handsy, I thought to myself. Bless her heart. I could never make a kill here. I loved the crew here far too much. Plus, I didn’t have a coven. No one to protect me when I fucked up. They kicked me out long ago. It’s the main reason I ended up in Vegas, avoiding the sun when I could, doing my best to keep a legal and convenient profession. Where else could get a job with only night shifts, and a never-ending supply of useless assholes no one cared about?

“I’ll be okay Crissy. Even if they do try something, we have a panic button in there. Don’t worry." I gave her a slimy, glossy kiss on the cheek, earning a shriek from her strawberry mouth. She batted at me, narrowly missing me as I bounded out of the room.

As I approached the bigger of our three private rooms, I noticed two of the larger male ghouls standing outside the door. All of the ghouls dressed similarly, including the female ghouls. But I now noticed the alchemical symbols dangling from their belt chains. The shorter one had a quintessence symbol, the other larger one, an earth symbol. The earth one opened the door, and the quintessence one escorted me in.

“Thank you, Aether. Back to the door with you. Come, have a seat. Dewdrop says there is more to you than meets the eye. Let me pour you a glass of wine, cara," a thick, Italian accent beckoned to me. I walked to the ottoman in the middle of the room, where I usually found myself during private dances.

“I don’t drink during work hours, love. Now, what should I call you?” I looked into the mismatched eyes of the Painted Man.

“You can call me Papa. I’m Papa Emeritus, the fourth. My close friends call me Copia, but I suppose we are not quite there yet, sí?” he said, leaning forward to take my chin in his hand. I nodded.

“While I would love to marvel at your undoubtedly exquisite body, There is some business we should take care of first, piccolina. Do you like Type O Negative?” Cue the record scratching. The dreamy look I normally adopt when with my clients evaporated.

“Excuse me?” I whispered. Papa laughed.

“The band, cara. I was going to have you dance for me later. However, you must have a preference."

“I really don’t understand what you mean," I whispered. Papa laughed again, a big booming laugh.

“I know your secret cara. The ghouls told me. One of my predecessors, Papa Nihil, told me if I were to ever come across your kind, I should try to win your allegiance. Your kind have interesting abilities, specifically the power of influence." Of course that’s what he’s after.

“I don’t do that," I said, looking down to avoid his gaze. Papa tsked.

“I think you will. The ghouls say you smell lonely. Where is your famiglia?” He asked. I shook my head. Lydia’s pained screams echoed in my ears, our last moment together wrenching my heart out of my chest decades later.

“We split because of artistic differences," I said softly. Dewdrop and his companions giggled behind me.

“Forcing people to allow you to exsanguinate them for sport is not ‘artistic differences,’” Dewdrop hissed. The other ghouls laughed. Papa shook his head, and raised a hand to silence them.

“Now now, Dewdrop. It is hard to control one’s basic nature. Sí, tesoro? Tell me, how long has it been since your last drink?” He looked at me with concern. I couldn’t meet his eyes. I knew what he saw. Weak, pathetic, useless… The words were like a disgusting mantra, swirling through my mind, angry and acidic.

“Weeks… It’s been weeks," I whispered. He tsked again. I heard the ghouls chatter amongst themselves. Their pity made me feel disgusting, like a child with sweaty, clammy hands, and odorous armpits.

“What if I told you I could offer you a job and a home? A home where you wouldn’t have to hide your nature. A home where you’d never go hungry again?” I looked up at him.

“What kind of job?” I asked. The ghouls laughed again. Papa shot them a glare.

“I would make use of your gifts occasionally. Nobody would get hurt. You would warm my bed whenever I asked. Maybe pick up a trade or two once back with the Clergy. And in turn, you would get protection, and all the blood you could ever need," he said. I finally mustered the courage to look him in the eyes. What do you have to lose? Besides, you’ve done infinitely worse things.

“You swear on your life, nobody will get hurt? Not a single person?” I asked. Papa nodded.

“I’ll do it. I’ll also require a salary as well," I said, extending my hand. Papa nodded, taking my hand in both of his.

“Anything you need, cara. But first, I think you need a drink. And then we will get the night I paid for," he said. He waved his hand towards the door, which the shorter female ghoul scurried to open. I noticed she sported a pocket chain with an air symbol.

“Bring in one of the more rosy siblings, Cumulus. I suspect our new friend will need the sustenance before we get too far into our plans for the night," Cumulus nodded, and shut the door behind her. Papa stood up, and began removing his suit jacket and gloves; rolling up his sleeves. I could see his blue veins pulsating, causing me to become aroused in a way I cannot quite explain. Involuntarily, my pussy throbbed, and my mouth watered.

“Now now, little one. Be patient. Your drink will be here soon enough. But for now, you will seal our little deal with a kiss, so to speak. On your knees," Papa ordered, gesturing to the floor. I slipped from the ottoman to the floor, crawling on all fours to him. His breath hitched as I slid my hands up his thighs. I didn’t break eye contact as I unbuckled his trousers, nor when I reached into his pants to pull out his sizeable cock.

The door opened, and I heard mumbles, as well as a struggle, and a thud. Of course, both my hands and mouth were preoccupied. I watched Papa intently as I sucked him off. His eyes were rolled back, his mouth slack, and his hands threaded into his hair, as he let out an ungodly moan. I kitten licked his frenulum, stroking his shaft, earning another moan. He bucked his hips into my throat. Sit still, I whispered in the back of my mind. Papa grabbed my hair, and pulled me off his cock.

“Never again, my little bat. Continue," he said, grabbing either side of my face as he began to fuck my throat rigourously. Someone behind me cleared their throat. I wasn’t able to look up, due to my current predicament.

“Can’t you see I’m busy, Cirrus? What is it?” Papa let out a grunt, as his cock twitched in my mouth. I began to fellate him with my hands, wrenching more breathy sighs and groans from him. Within seconds, his warm seed was flooding my throat. I heard Dewdrop cheer, and then a slap, which I assumed was a high five. Papa rolled his eyes and smiled, as I dabbed away the bit of cum that had spilled over my bottom lip.

“Just in time. I needed something to wash down all that salt," I stood, and walked over to the person Cumulus and Cirrus stood in front of. It looked like a plumper woman. She was wearing what looked like a nun’s habit, her red ringlets spilling out from under her wimple.

“All for you cara. Come find me when you have finished your meal," Papa walked out, which left me with the ghouls and my prey. Dewdrop, and the other male ghoul, who sported a water symbol, helped the little nun onto the couch.

“You’re going to let me fuck that tight ass later, right? Nearly busted watching you and Copia earlier," Dewdrop said to me, softly enough for just me to hear. I giggled and nodded, batting him away after he began nibbling on my neck. He patted my ass, and began to pull the wimple from the nun’s head.

“I’ve got this. Why don’t you and the rest of the ghouls get started? I’ll be done pretty quickly." Dewdrop nodded.

“C’mon, Rainy. Come play with my cock, while we watch Mary drink," The water ghoul nodded, grabbing Dewdrop’s hand. I turned my attention back to the nun. She began to stir. I pushed back her hair.

“This is going to hurt a little bit. But I will make this quick and painless. You deserve an easy death." The nun, barely awake, nodded, and turned her head. I cradled her head, and brought her throat to my mouth. With a final kiss to her soft, peachy flesh, I sank my teeth into her throat, not letting a single drop of her blood go to waste.

It felt like drinking water after being stuck in a desert for a week. Her blood was sweet, clean, and thick, and it quenched my thirst quickly. Her body began to go limp in my arms, and her skin turned cold. It’s still not enough. I had to force myself to stop. Never drink the last drop. It might just be the last thing you do, my old mentor’s voice reminded me. I let the little nun drop back to the couch, and turned to face the ghouls. Cirrus sat with Cumulus, each with a hand in the other’s pants. Rain was bobbing his head up and down slowly, as Dewdrop played with his hair. Dewdrop looked up at me.

“Hot," he said. Cirrus nodded, and refocused her attention on Cumulus. Rain moaned, causing Dewdrop to hiss. I looked at them all, lust clouding my gaze.

“Make room. It’s my turn," I said. Dewdrop pulled my mouth to his, not fazed one bit by the blood coating my lips. Cirrus began to explore the space between my thighs with her long, gorgeous fingers. Rain held my hair, kissing and nipping at my neck. A girl really could get used to this...

Hours later, after all of the ghouls had had their turn, even the two from the door, I was back in the dressing room. I opened the envelope the earth ghoul, Mountain, had handed me on the way out. My eyes grew like saucers as I counted the money inside. I had only expected eight grand; two hours, eight clients, multiplied by $500. But as I counted, I realized I had 15 grand in my hands. The door opened, breaking my wealth-induced trance. It was Papa.

“If you would really like the job, come to this address in two weeks. Bring only what you must. Put everything else in storage," he said, handing me a card. I was confused.

“Why two weeks?” I asked. Papa smiled.

“Because it’s polite, cara. Don’t forget your letter of resignation."

--------------------------------------------

This is the first thing I've wrote in years! I hope you all enjoy it! A special thanks to @gasolineghuleh for all of their help!

[neonponders]

I’m so sorry that I don’t remember who originally posted about Steve accidentally calling Billy, Daddy, and Billy - naturally - going feral for it.

But daydreaming about this helped me sleep so ~ enjoy! (If anyone knows the post I’m talking about, I’ll happily add a link to it in a reblog and the ao3 notes.)

Read on ao3 here.

Featuring reunion/aged up trope ~ (I didn’t really keep canon in mind for this, but if you want it to be post season 3, that’s fine.)

It’s a strange twilight zone, meeting someone again. Being complete strangers with a history.

Not the best history, either, so Steve just had to laugh to himself while he sat on Billy Hargrove’s couch. The guy looked up from the kitchen counter across the open floor plan. “What?”

And Steve might be internally combusting a bit-

A lot.

Because Billy’s hot. Like...Steve can actually appreciate it now. It’s not the first time he feels like a fool for being too slow. Billy was a looker in high school; easily one of the guys who completed puberty first and knew it. Made him an asshole for it. And people liked assholes.

Steve guessed he just didn’t do it right. Being the mean guy. But that was far behind them, now, and Billy’s late twenties were doing him favors.

Steve supposed if young, spry, Adonis Billy came with being a complete dick, then he could appreciatively leave him behind. Because Billy wasn’t a complete dick anymore. And the man strolling back across the room with a pair of whiskey sours was definitely, 100%, burning a hole through Steve’s jeans better than the show-off from high school ever did.

Steve reckoned Adonis never got laid nearly as much as Zeus or Poseidon anyway, which he only knew from Robin’s ramblings about her Greek theatre class. Steve earned a distinct wrinkling of her nose when he said, “Lettuce? Adonis is symbolized with lettuce? Yeah, no. Aphrodite, that cougar, fell for a twink while Daddy Poseidon was getting whoever he wanted with his beard and all.”

Robin had barked a laugh but chided, “Please don’t ever call Poseidon, “Daddy,” ever again. Oh my god.”

Joke’s on her, because now she referred to the gods and heroes by whatever name Steve gave them.

And the joke was on Steve. Because he was definitely the twink in this new situation he found himself in.

Billy had always been stacked. But the guy walking through the university gallery to make Steve’s heart stop beating in his chest was something else. He wasn’t even bigger, really. Something just...happened as soon as a person could see 30 closer than 20. Steve had first noticed it with Robin, because they spent the most time together. Obviously that crush had been snuffed out with her gentle coming-out to him years ago, but Steve still had eyes in his head. Robin aged really well. Steve had begun to wonder if he was aging nearly as gracefully.

Billy, that bastard, strolled right up to him with a freaking mustache of all things, invited them to lunch the next day - where he had switched to clean shaven - and now sat on his couch in his newly built apartment complex with a sweating, rattled Steve. He had neatly pulled him aside before the three of them parted the restaurant to invite Steve over for drinks that evening.

Steve was unprepared for the sculpted scruff on the man’s face now. He’d never seen a guy switch facial hair styles like he was changing shirts. Frankly, he didn’t know anybody who could just grow it that easily.

Steve gulped loudly around his whiskey sour.

It was Billy’s turn to laugh under his breath. “You okay? You never answered me.”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little out of breath. “I’m just...reeling, here. I think the last conversation we had involved a fist fight.”

Billy laughed again and Steve’s eyes trailed over the shirt fitting perfectly around his built shoulders. Maybe Billy is bigger. In like a...domestic sort of way. Like he still had all his muscle but didn’t throw a fit over a bowl of pasta. Steve is still taller. Steve still had that, at least, but he sure felt like his second puberty hadn’t graced him yet.

Billy was talking. Pay attention, Steve.

Something about Robin. Steve replied, and hoped he was answering close to whatever Billy had said, “Robin teaches there and some of her students were in the exhibition. It’s an art nerd thing. Everybody’s involved, even if it’s not your subject.”

Steve couldn’t tell if the pause was Billy processing or if Steve had been completely off the mark. Deflect. Reroute! his brain told him, so he asked, “Did we ever ask how you knew about the gallery?”

“Max goes to school there.”

“Oh,” Steve chirped bluntly. “Small world.”

Billy hummed a sound low in his chest. Something vibrated inside Steve and he closed his eyes in a hard blink, grasping at flimsy straws for composure. Billy finished, “I was in the area. Definitely a pleasant surprise to see your familiar face.”

“My Lego head?” Steve gestured vaguely at himself. “I guess this block always did stand out.”

Billy huffed a surprised sound, like he hadn’t expected that, but he let it tumble into easy laughter. “You look good. I never saw you with short hair.”

His fingers pushed the arching swoop of Steve’s fringe behind his ear. The briefest touch across his temple finishing on his neck...

I’m going to have a heart attack.

“Thanks. That goes for the both of us.”

Just like he almost missed never snatching a chance with high school Billy, Steve only kinda missed never getting his hands on that mullet. Only to know how soft that hair actually was. Not like Billy needed it, of course. Truly absurd, how he rocked any hair situation on his head that wasn’t shaped like a Lego person’s.

Steve finished his whiskey in the next gulp.

He could feel Billy’s laser blue eyes notice this, and then he stood from the couch. “I’m getting us some waters.”

“Okay,” Steve chimed dumbly. Feeling dumb.

Jesus Christ, it’s Scoops all over again. You suck. You suck-

“Poseidon liked a twink too, you nimrod,” Robin had teased back. “His name was Anteros.”

“And he dies too, right?”

“Nope. He’s basically Poseidon’s husband and chauffeur.”

“Aw. Good for Daddy P.”

Billy returned. “Are you one of these people who likes seltzers?”

Steve blindly took the can while his thoughts slammed mutinously into, Daddy B. B is kinda cute. Shorter-

“Thanks-

Billy.

-daddy.”

Steve opened the can before it sank in what he’d just said. Carbonation gently kissed his skin as he held the can to his lips but didn’t drink. Some may or may not have landed in his lap before he lowered it to see Billy’s unreadable face.

“Oh my god.” Steve rushed to place the can on the coffee table and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

“Did you...?”

“Don’t say it,” he pleaded, removing a hand as if to physically defend against the words in the air.

“Steve-”

His words came muffled from where he hid inside his hands. “Oh my god. I’m gonna throw up.”

He stood up - to go where, he didn’t really know. Probably best to just leave at this point. Way to choke. Way to absolutely choke, Harrington. You don’t even know if Billy’s bi and you just deep-dived into WEIRD-

“I’m really sorry,” he rushed as he stepped around the coffee table.

“Steve.” Billy gripped his arm and pulled right back onto the couch as if it were easy. Steve more than landed in his spot, he landed flush against Billy. His thigh felt Billy’s warmth, and his lips stayed parted to keep breathing when he realized how close their faces were. 

Billy this close was something else, and Steve didn’t have the brain power to navigate it.

“Say it again.”

So it took him a long minute to absorb that. Was he seeing stars? So much for breathing.

“Huh?”

Steve’s lashes sagged heavily over his eyes when Billy leaned tantalizingly close. Either of them could stick their tongues out and taste the other’s lips.

Don’t, he commanded his mutinous subconscious.

“Say it again, Steve.”

He wondered which was louder: his thunderous heart or the racket in his brain trying to turn rusty gears. He whispered against Billy’s skin, “I didn’t mean to say it.”

A hand, gentle but there, found Steve’s nape. “I’m telling you to say it on purpose.”

Was he making fun of him? Steve couldn’t tell. He hadn’t spent more than a handful of hours with him. But his voice made that thing in Steve’s body vibrate and his brain had officially declared itself a lost cause.

In for a penny, in for a pound. Steve closed the gap - tiny as it was - and involuntarily moaned at the softness of Billy’s lips. The hand on his nape tightened and another came to hold the front of his throat; not pressing against his windpipe, but Billy’s fingertips held Steve’s jaw in place and his palm surely felt the drumming of Steve’s heart.

Steve’s tongue couldn’t help itself. He touched the plush skin of Billy’s upper lip, ever so lightly-

Billy groaned, wanton and hungry as he pushed entirely into Steve’s personal space. The latter gasped at the sound, and then he really did see stars as Billy’s tongue fucked against his own. He tasted sour and sweet and the citrus mixed with Billy’s natural taste in such a way that Steve tilted his head for more, pushed right back into Billy’s space.

Steve’s body rotated enough that his knee bumped into Billy’s. Then Billy was gripping that joint hard enough to bruise so that he could pull Steve all the way around to straddle him. Steve clumsily climbed onto his lap, grateful for the influx of air as Billy planted wet kisses and pressed his tongue into Steve’s pulse. He didn’t really know what the boundaries were anymore. This was explosive and sudden and Steve sat, unsure, higher up on Billy’s thighs-

“Ahh!” he burst when Billy gripped his hips and yanked his pelvis flush against him. Steve’s moan clipped short into a small ache of pain. The way his jeans tightened with the stretch of his thighs crimped into his already throbbing erection.

Billy opened his jeans. Steve’s voice escaped with his gasp when the colder backs of his fingers touched his belly as he dipped into Steve’s underwear. He stood up on his knees to give Billy the room to free his erection, and Steve couldn’t help the moan that exhaled out of him when he sat back down, feeling Billy’s soft shirt against his red cockhead.

Steve shivered as Billy’s hands slid up and around his body, mapping out Steve’s topography and shoving his shirt as high as Steve’s collarbones. Steve felt like a lewd wet dream: an exposed, panting mess on Billy’s lap. His heart ricocheted around his ribs with the sharp tickle of stubble, and he whimpered as it scraped over his nipple and chest.

“Your shirt,” he heaved, knowing he was dripping precum. “Billy-”

“Call me what you did before.” He reached into the back of Steve’s jeans and gripped a handful of his ass that had Steve lurching forward and bucking into the softness of that shirt and tummy, the warmth of Billy’s body. Steve whined when Billy held him down, unable to move.

“Say it. Whatever you want. Just say it for me.”

Steve bought a little time by kissing him, hard. Hard enough to make Billy lie back into the couch, his head tilted up to moan into Steve’s mouth. Steve’s lips nuzzled the side of his lips and began an exploratory trail across Billy’s cheek and jaw, down to his throat.

“I just...wanna feel all of this on me. I wanna feel your beard so much I’ll still feel it tomorrow... Daddy.”

Steve’s voice pitched to the ceiling when a hand gripped his hair. Billy’s other hand released his ass cheek to push encouragingly on Steve’s lumbar the same time he drew Steve’s earlobe into his mouth. Steve gripped the couch upholstery behind Billy’s shoulders as he bucked against him, rutting like a teenager. Billy’s own jaw fell for his moan to escape when Steve’s ass and backs of his thighs moved over his own cock trapped in his pants.

Steve tried to slow down a little, to rub against him without making the fabric chaff. “Daddy, what do want?”

If he didn’t feel Billy’s heartbeat before, he sure as hell did now. Steve felt it against his hands as he sought to know the contours of Billy’s shoulders and chest. He watched Billy’s swallow through the gorgeous neck that lay open to him as Billy gazed up at him. One of his hands traced the gently twitching artery on the side. Steve began to pepper slow, audible kisses against his face. When he landed on Billy’s lips, Billy kissed back, and when he wandered all the way up to Billy’s temple, Billy let him. Only his hands moved sluggishly between Steve’s thighs and his waist, seeking skin underneath his shirt.

Steve came back down to whisper against Billy’s lips, “Daddy?”

It was a blur of movement punctuated by Steve’s surprised yelp of glee as Billy threw him onto his back on the couch. Billy kissed the laughter out of his flushed, red throat, growling in satisfaction at how those bubbles of mirth sank into breathy moans.

“I’ve wanted you for years, pretty boy.”

Steve’s brain didn’t absorb that so much as his body did. Pinballs of emotion and sensation darted to and from his groin. He lifted his leg to rest across the back of the couch and to give Billy access to whatever he wanted.

Strong hands moved carefully - fondly - over Steve’s thighs. A stuttering breath left him when Billy clutched the backs of his legs. A sweet ache to have the muscle squeezed there.

“Don’t hold back on me now, baby,” Billy taunted, pressing his hands into the couch on either side of Steve and aligning his bulge with Steve’s hole and undercarriage still inside his jeans. “Let me hear you.”

Steve’s other leg wrapped around him and he lifted his pelvis to grind against Billy’s front. Billy’s bravado melted into an anguished, blissed-out frown as he shut his eyes against the sensation. When he opened them, Steve held his cock in hand, pumping himself in time with his pelvis rolling up to meet Billy.

It was sloppy and desperate and Steve didn’t think he ever did this even as a teenager. It had all been a small town rush to get hands or mouths on skin and get rid of the stigmatizing V-card. Except when Steve was in love, and allowed to take his time...

Steve didn’t know if he was in love now. But as another wave of ticklish warmth darted through him, Steve laughed a little.

“What?” Billy asked, not unlike the first time.

“I just...I just like this, that’s all,” Steve admitted. “You feel good. You smell good. Ahh! I’m close.”

“Let me see you, baby. Let me taste the mess you make.”

That didn’t so much as nudge Steve off the cliff as it drop kicked him into his orgasm.

“Hahh! Daddy, I’m there! I’m there...”

The mind-halting knot of sensation burst inside him with a force that let Steve not even care that he craned his face toward the arm of the couch, moaning and splashing his hair over the upholstery like a romance novel cover.

He realized somewhere in the middle that Billy had grasped his cock and was the reason his climax kept going. Milking little dribbles of cum out of him. Steve hadn’t cum like this in years, and he lay riveted to Billy hastening his rhythm to chase his own cliff edge.

The furrowed brows of concentration on Billy’s face were wiped off by Steve gripping his shirt and yanking him down for Steve to taste him, to plunder his mouth and feel that soft material against his own bare, messy torso. 

Billy shuddered and pushed, pushed against Steve like he meant to bury his cockhead inside as he came. The visual sent an aching thrill into Steve’s core, knowing how Billy looked when he came and knowing that he’d cum inside. It made Steve eager to feel the pressure of his thrusts and the aftershocks when he pulled out to repeat it all again.

Steve had just cum like a seventeen year old and wanted to go all the way, with Billy’s hands all over his backside and his scruff against Steve’s ass cheeks-

Billy’s hand brushed over his hair and eased around to cradle his head. “What are you thinking behind those big eyes?”

Steve blinked drunkenly up at him even though it certainly wasn’t whiskey giving him this high. “My eyes?”

“Mmhm,” Billy hummed through lips pressing into a content smile. He hovered over his elbows, still framing Steve in but not crowding him. Fingertips pressed little swirls over his scalp, drifting around his ear. “I like your big, doe eyes.”

No one ever commented on his eyes. His hair, obviously. His butt. His shoulders. His moles. Billy gazed down at him, searching through Steve’s thoughts. The way he always had, really.

“Thinkin’ about you creaming me instead of your pants.”

Billy turned his head to the side so he didn’t laugh directly in Steve’s face. “Only if I’m not dreaming this time.”

This time.

God, Steve liked what that implied.

His arms came around Billy’s shoulders, loving the broadness and weight of the man on top of him. He kissed him softly, bumping his nose against Billy’s and eliciting a groan while Billy tilted his head and deepened the kiss.

“Again,” he begged through the kiss. “I want you again, Daddy.”

[dc41896]

New Roommate

Pairing: Paul DiskantxBlack Reader

⚠️: Fluff, slight mentions of seggsy time

“We’re gonna have so much fun bubbas. We’re gonna go to the park, on hikes-oh! And the beach! I already know you’re gonna love it,” you beam rubbing noses with the two-month, blue nose pitbull who was trying to lick your face. “First though, I gotta get your dad on board.”

It’s not that your boyfriend didn’t want or like dogs. He always said how he’d love to have one someday when he was settled somewhere.

However that “somewhere” to Paul was a house with plenty yard space, an adequate amount of privacy, and maybe located in the suburbs. Not your recently renovated, two bedroom apartment you both just happened to move into about a month ago.

You made an agreement that you wouldn’t get any pets (well besides a fish, and a small one at that) to not risk messing anything up and having some sort of consequence, which would more than likely be in monetary form. Entranced by the short haired, too adorable for words pup though, you honestly could care less about the consequences.

Plus you just knew your little buddy wouldn’t cause any trouble. You could see that in his round, soft grey eyes.

“So, you’re gonna stay with your auntie Raye until I can work my charm on him okay?” The pup only tilts his head before letting out a small bark and making you pout as you hug him close. “I know but it’s only temporary. A night at most.”

Paul typically didn’t get home until later in the evening now that he was on a new case, so you had plenty of time to clean up any traces of dog left behind after Raye would leave and start cooking his favorite meal. As an added bonus, you also thought about your short, lilac, ruched number with spaghetti straps that always made his eyes light up when you wore it. He claimed it perfectly complimented your skin and made you look even more angelic as his hands always seemed to find your sides, the small of your back, or lower if you were right beside him (which of course you typically were).

However, hearing the familiar thud of boots journeying down the hall and rattling of keys, something told you that plan might not work now.

You quickly stand up, taking the probably confused puppy with you to the bathroom where you sit him in the empty tub, along with his new bone shaped chew toy, kneeling with a finger over your lips.

“Stay here and be really quiet okay?,” you whisper just as you hear the front door unlock. Quietly rushing to close the room door behind you, you muster your best ‘I wasn’t doing anything’ smile while you approached the tired looking man.

“Hey beautiful,” he greets, sweetly pecking your lips.

“Hey, you’re home early today.”

“Yea, we had a break in the case and went undercover to get the suspect which led to a chase, then a fight, and me having bruises forming as we speak.”

Dropping his bag by the dinner table, a sigh followed by a short wince leaves his mouth as he sinks into the leather couch cushions letting his head fall back and eyes close.

“Alright plan B it is,” you think to yourself moving behind him to gently massage his shoulders, occasionally letting your hands journey forward along his pecs giving them attention as well. Hearing a soft moan at his approaching relaxed state urges you to continue, knowing you’d soon have him exactly where you wanted.

“Aww I’m sorry babe. Where does it hurt?”

“My sides mostly, but my back a bit too.”

He helps you remove his fitted black shirt, a favorite of yours, letting out a short hiss from having to extend his sore muscles. Guiding him to lie down and placing one of the small throw pillows under his head, you straddle his lap letting your fingers drag along the red and light blue marks littering his sides.

“It doesn’t hurt when you breathe does it?”

“No.”

“What about this?,” you ask pressing down to feel him flinch under you.

“Ow! Babe-,”

“Sorry! Sorry just checking.” Watching him settle back into his comfortable position with arm draped over his forehead, you slowly bend forward, lips inches from his bruise looking up at your boyfriend through your lashes. “And this?”

You feel his low chuckle vibrate his muscular upper body as your gentle, open mouthed kisses scatter from each injury to eventually find the spot just below his ear.

“I feel better already,” he smiles tilting your chin so your soft lips could meld with his. Kiss growing deeper with each passing second.

“Hooked like a fish,” you thought, lips never ceasing while being brought closer to his body as he sat up with hands squeezing your hips.

“Baby wait,” he states slightly leaning his head back and making you pout. “Let me go shower first. I’m sweaty and probably stink-,”

“What’s the point when you’re just gonna get sweaty again?,” you smirk taking his now red, fuller bottom lip between your teeth.

“All the more reason for you to join me then.” You can’t fully enjoy the combination of his tongue and lips on your neck from your brain hurriedly trying to figure out how to stop this man from finding your little surprise in the bathroom.

“Your, um..sides though! You know it’s gonna hurt trying to shower so just stay here with me.”

“Is there a reason you don’t want me going in our bathroom?,” he asks detaching from your neck with one final bite to eye you suspiciously.

“No, of course not. I just missed you.” Batting your lashes, you nonchalantly let your nail trace a line from where his pendant sat down the middle of his abdomen and just above his buckle before he shifted, swiftly lying you on your back with one hand hooked under your knee bringing it around his waist.

Men. Always so easy.

Giggling as thumbs graze the lower band of your bra and lips return to their assault on your neck and collarbone, a high pitched bark along with scuffling makes you freeze as Paul lifts his head confused.

“You heard that right?”

“Y-Yeah. It’s probably from one of the neighbors. Speaking of dogs though-”

When the barks and scuffling become more frequent, you start to wonder if Raye would mind you staying the night since you’d surely need a place to stay with Paul being mad at you.

“Nah that sounds really close,” he replies unhooking your leg to go investigate for himself. The only thing you can do is sit and nervously wait for the inevitable hearing him open the bedroom door and eventually enter the bathroom. “Honey...!”

“Hmm?!,” you ask biting the corner of your lip, turning your head at the sound of Paul padding across the wooden floor holding the noisy pup.

“Mind telling me why this little guy was in our tub?”

“....Maybe he was a gift from the front office?,” you innocently shrug making him bring his free hand to his hip, sternly looking at you.

“Y/N...,”

“Alright. My coworker and I were bored one day and started looking through the pets the shelter had for adoption online and this little guy came across the screen and stole my heart.”

“Babe we talked about this. We can’t mess this place up.”

“I know and we won’t. Before you came home, we just hung out in here and he was so calm and sweet. Even in the tub he sat there like a good boy,” you smile standing up to scratch behind his ears making his tail wag against Paul’s side.

“That’s because he couldn’t get out since the tub is taller than him,” he retorts as you roll your eyes taking your new baby from his grasp.

“Cmon Paul look at this face and tell me you can say no.”

Holding the puppy at his eye level, there’s a few moments of silence as the two simply look at each other before the grey haired dog licks his cheek making him groan.

“You know I can’t say no. To either of you,” he softly smiles petting the short fur on his head. Seeing your pout as you bring your new friend next to your face, he lowly chuckles caressing your cheek as his lips find yours. “Alright he can stay.”

“Thank you!,” you excitedly squeal bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I already have the perfect name picked out.”

“What’s that?”

“Disco. After his dad,” you both laugh.

“Well, welcome to the family Disco,” he smiles taking him from your hands to place him on the floor where he began to sniff around getting acclimated to his new home. You’re caught off guard when you’re tossed over his broad shoulder, blood rushing to your head as you gently kick your legs laughing.

“Paul!”

“Disco, look after everything. Me and mom have some unfinished business,” he smirks closing the bedroom door behind him with his foot.

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[alfredosauce50]

You’re gonna go far, kid [Punk! England x reader]

Synopsis: Ever since coming to England to study, you haven’t had the time to do what made you come in the first place--tourism! The only friend you have is an exchange student from Russia, Ivan, so why not kill two birds with one stone? He schedules a little playdate with Arthur, a local, so he can show you around the hottest spots in London. You two immediately hit it off. Ivan is quick to notice his interest in you, so he starts teasing the poor man and making things hard for him. Camden is the last destination, and there’s no saying when he’ll ever see you again. Will he be able to get over himself and ask you out before the night ends?  Note: Attractions are italicized and have a link to a picture. Wordcount: 4,641 The reader is referred to as she/her.

This was the day you had been dreading, and yet, looking forward to. The first part was easy to explain. Picking up your hot latte, you set it down after a quick sip. You didn’t even have time to enjoy it. Not when you were typing away at your keyboard like a speed demon. You promised your friend you would finish your assignment before today’s meet-up, but your procrastination habits were a bitch. Nevertheless, you were eager to uphold your side of the deal, even if it meant stressing your hair out to get it done. 

So long as he didn’t show up before you were done, right? 

After burning your tongue for the second time that morning, you let out a small groan at the sting you felt but gasped at what you saw outside the window. It was a sound made from genuine terror--rather than the quiet streets of London at seven AM, you spotted a man pressing his face right up to the glass. And he was staring at you, menacingly. 

Anybody would’ve been creeped out by the sight, but you knew the guy. “Aha--Ivan! Hey! Morning?” You began rather awkwardly. 

He waved in response, and his glower melted away in exchange for a childlike smile. “Dobroye utro, (F/N)! I hope that’s not your assignment you’re doing.” He hummed, placing two hands on the glass to peer at your screen from outside. Oh shit. Glancing briefly at said screen, you turned it away before clicking the upload button. 

“Of course not.” You grinned, shutting your laptop immediately after. “I was just... Surfing the net. Checking Instagram. You know?”

“Is that so? I’m gonna check.” He made his way inside. And in no time, he was looming over your shoulder to start browsing through your internet history. You, on the other hand, were sweating balls. 

“You’re so funny, (F/N). Who checks Instagram on their computer?”

It seemed like only yesterday he was the oblivious exchange student from Russia who had no concept of social media. He had been a country bumpkin through and through, but a few semesters after befriending you, your influence rubbed off on him. Even you had no idea what went through your head when decided to talk to him, the intimidating new kid who spoke broken English, but there was no turning back now. He was attached to you by the hip and picked up on your habits faster than you could deal. 

He only became more of a menace when he discovered Twitter.

A displeased expression contorted at his expression when he saw that there was no evidence of you ‘surfing the net’. Google Docs couldn’t possibly count, after all.  “... Hm... Apparently, not you. Why didn’t you finish this yesterday, sunflower? Remember our promise?” 

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I passed out last night. But hey, I technically finished it before you came, didn’t I?” 

He craned his head from side to side in thought. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, you know what that means.” Ivan coiled his arms around your neck and a sickeningly sweet smile curled up at his lips. 

“You will come with me to Moscow for Christmas!” 

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. Going to Russia was bad enough. But during Winter? You were never good with the cold. If you could barely handle London, Moscow was out of the question. “Oh God, please no.” He nodded giddily. “I’m never going to Russia. Maybe I’d consider it during Summer, but--anyway, that’s not the point here! I didn’t break any promises so I won’t be turning into a popsicle this year. Got that?” 

He pouted. “Aw...” 

“You damn sadist.” 

“Hehe.” 

“I wonder how you even became friends with him. Arthur, was it? Poor dude.” You mumbled, but he didn’t look all too offended. 

He tapped his chin and hummed. “Now that you mention it.” Then, he let out a short laugh. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it was a happy little accident.”

“Unfortunate.” 

“But don’t worry! I don’t plan on bothering you as much as him today.” Ivan clarified, earning a slow nod from you. Phew. The clock was inching closer to eight and you weren’t much of a morning person, so hearing that was like music to your ears. “That’s why I wanted you to finish your work yesterday. I want him to be the only one making mistakes! It’s interesting to see him mess up and get embarrassed.” 

You had to wonder if he was using ‘interesting’ as a synonym for fun because he was clapping. “... Ivan, you really are a sadist.” 

The two of you stayed in that café for another hour or so, ordering some breakfast during your stay. Once the table was cleared and the bill was paid, you and he caught a bus to the London eye. You could marvel at the iconic ferris wheel for a few minutes as you walked up to the London aquarium next to it, your first stop. The building was huge to start with, and it didn’t look like they’d be storing fish in there considering how fancy it was. But wasn’t everything in England fancy? 

“He should be waiting in the front. Look for a short grouchy man with a bad taste in fashion.” You shot him a weird look, beckoning him to elaborate. 

“... And blonde hair.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll try my best.” Glancing around the sea of people filled with tourists, couples, and families, you skimmed the crowd for someone who fitted the description--but to no avail. It was only when they walked up to you both did you find the guy. He had short and choppy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face, and under his fringe was a pair of lime green eyes staring on with a neutral expression. And did Ivan say he had bad taste?

You couldn’t agree. Yes, his charcoal pants were ripped and he had a bandana tied around his neck with a Union Jack on it. But he still had a kind of style you liked. Under his black leather jacket was a gray shirt, and combined with the piercings in his right ear, you couldn’t help admiring him for a second. 

“Arthur! I was wondering if you were trampled because we couldn’t find you.” Ivan began, causing the said man to furrow his brows. And boy, were they thick. 

“You just arrived, so don’t start now you twat.” He grumbled. Ivan never teased you for your height, even when you were a little shorter than the Brit. He always found it cute, but you figured it was only because you didn’t care. The Russian always found amusement in poking fun at others, after all. “Anywho, I’m glad I won’t be spending the whole day alone with you.” 

Turning to you with a soft smile this time, he held out a hand for you to shake. “Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.” 

You shook it, but not without a laugh. It hadn’t even been a minute since meeting him, and his personality seemed to clash violently with his appearance. He sounded so prim and proper, but his outfit screamed punk rock. 

“(L/N). (F/N) (L/N).” 

He released you from his grip. Placing his hands on his hips with an accusing stare, he felt a grin upturn his lips. “Are you copying me, (F/N)?” 

“I don’t know. Do all British people introduce themselves like James Bond?” 

Arthur clicked his tongue. “... Not all of them. Just a force of habit.” 

“Mhm. Right, right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m a student here too and I could only imagine how busy it gets for you--so thanks for coming out today!” He didn’t respond to those comments and simply nodded. 

Ivan stayed quiet in the back, but he was probably reading the atmosphere like he always did when he didn’t speak. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde turned on his heel and closed his eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay out here and chat, we can do that in the aquarium. Wouldn’t wanna waste our tickets, do we?” 

While the group of three wandered slowly through the establishment, Ivan lingered in the background while you walked in the front with the Brit. For the first ten minutes, you’d look at him expectantly, gesturing for him to join in the conversation. As the mutual, wasn’t he supposed to be the icebreaker? He’d shake his head every time, offering you a smile as if to say, go and make some friends. But soon, this brief spell of irritation morphed into gratitude.

“I’ve been here probably a hundred times, so don’t take it personally when I don’t seem as excited as you.” Turning to him to watch his face as he spoke--which was filtered through a bluish tinge from the Antarctic setting-- you only caught a brief glimpse of it before he turned away. Huh. Maybe it was just you not paying enough attention. 

Either way, what came out of your mouth next would surely grab his. 

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, this is the first time you’ve been here with me, so look alive, won’t you?” It happened to be a slip of the tongue, something bold and improvised, but luckily, he reacted fairly quickly before the regret set in.

“Oi, you better not be flirting with me already,” Arthur grumbled, feeling another smile come as he heard you chuckle. Since when was he this expressive? He pinned it on the fact that he was starting to have a little fun himself. 

“Couldn’t imagine it.” Before he could add anything else, you hopped in front of the penguins and started waving your friend over with great gusto. “Ivan, c’mere. Arthur, mind taking a photo of us?” Once he joined your side, the two of you held up peace signs for the Brit to snap a photo. 

“Ivan, change your pose. We can’t have both of you doing the same thing.” 

The said man moved his peace sign to the back of your head so he could stick two fingers over it. “Is that better?”

“... Better.” Trailing his emerald eyes to you, he felt his cheeks heat up a touch at the sight of you grinning ear to ear. What the fuck, Arthur. Just take the damn photo. And that was exactly what he did, showing you both right after. Whatever just happened, he boiled it down to him idealizing a stranger. That was right. He had yet to get to know you, so his perception of you couldn’t be any better at this stage. 

But there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

“Damn, I look really ugly in this. You two better not post this anywhere.” You settled a hand over the screen to lower it with a nervous laugh. Then, you looked away, and what was that? You looked a little flustered. 

You were cute.

Hanging his head to look at the photo, he knitted his brows together. You? Ugly? He couldn’t imagine it. 

“... I bet I could take an even uglier one of you.”

Spinning back to him, you folded your arms. “What did you say?” 

“Nothing.” He shook his head slowly, and the amusement in his voice made it blatantly obvious he was lying. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Walking off at that, Ivan followed. Because he was behind him, he could brush his shoulders against his. Arthur looked up at that, but almost wished he didn’t. Ivan was smiling down at him so shrewdly, it was threatening. Then, he raised a hand to his mouth so he could laugh softly. “Huhu. You like (F/N)~” 

His eyes flew open and blood rushed up to his face. “What the hell gave you that impression? I literally just met them!” As adamant as he sounded, he knew deep inside he liked you, but only platonically. Your personality was refreshing, and talking to you was as easy as breathing. Even if it wasn’t platonic attraction, he was endlessly frustrated the other figured it out earlier than he could. 

Whatever it was, he was certainly more sociable than usual, even to the point of being a tease. And not to mention the rosy cheeks. Maybe he should’ve just kept his trap shut--otherwise, his huge outburst let Ivan milk the obvious. Fuck. He even started to giggle like a schoolchild. 

Giving him a rough shove, he muttered a string of curses under his breath.  “I bloody hate your arse, you know that?” He hissed, his face now redder than a tomato. God, why he did have to be born so pale? Every slight change to his complexion was jarring, and it was embarrassing. 

“Don’t hate me because I’m right,” Ivan hummed, joining his side as your back came into view. “Once you realize, it’ll be too late. I’m not letting you have (F/N). I will always be (F/N)’s number one.” Lighting up at that, he skipped off to you in the front. “Wait for me, sunflower! Don’t leave me alone with Arthur!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. How annoying. If he was going to continue being a little tyke, then he figured he’d up his game as well. He didn’t know what that exactly entailed yet, but he’d do it. Ivan didn’t even sound like he wanted anything more than friendship, so what was with that? Pointing a finger at him as he walked off with you, his face scrunched up. 

“What did you even call me out for then, you idiot? I’m supposed to be guiding you both!” Picking up his pace at that, he slotted himself between you and him. Flashing you a brief smile, he gave Ivan another push without breaking eye contact. “It’s a tight fit for three, so he’ll stay in the back.” 

“Hey, no fair!” 

By the time the whole aquarium was toured, you and Arthur were laughing to yourselves while leaving through the exit. 

But the joyful atmosphere was short-lived. 

The Ferris wheel just outside was the next stop, and the Brit offered to splurge a little to have a carriage without strangers. That way, you could run around as much as you wanted, even if that meant leaving the two men to sit in their lonesome. While Ivan was sitting on the bench in the centre out of his own volition, the same couldn’t be said for him. 

Sitting back to back to the other, he pressed his legs firmly together and leaned over in a hunch. Then, he dug his hands through his hair, all while keeping his round eyes fixated on the ground. His heart couldn’t stop pounding, and his head was spinning like a carousel. What was he thinking, taking you here? That was right. This was an iconic destination you couldn’t miss, that was why. He was initially planning on staying back there on the ground, but you were so excited, he couldn’t help but hop on with you. 

Fuck. Maybe Ivan was right about him. But he wouldn’t let him know it. Speaking of the guy, he didn’t know if he was sitting there by choice, or just rubbing it in. While he was incapacitated by fear so he couldn’t even stand, he was sitting there because he wanted to. 

“You should’ve stayed on the ground if this was going to happen.” 

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his stomach. “... Shut up.” 

“I was just saying.” Ivan murmured, looking at him over his shoulder. Poor guy. He really was down bad, wasn’t he? Down bad for you, that was. Too bad Arthur was hoping he wasn’t convinced--but it was too obvious. So all Ivan wanted was to prove his point, and later on, keep you away from him. But maybe he’d save it until after the ride was over. “... This ride is thirty minutes long. You’ll live.” 

He heard the other groan. “Thirty minutes? How long has it been?” 

“Mm... Ten.” 

“Fuck me.” 

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you would pull away from the railing and return to the company of the two. Arthur had been praying that somehow, you’d leave him alone sitting there, pathetically, but he couldn’t expect something so cold from you. So while he hung his head, he wasn’t surprised to feel your hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?” He heard you ask, but he never looked up. 

“... Yeah. Just give me a minute.” 

“I have. Ten, actually.” Taking a seat beside him, you leaned down to peer at his face, which was a few shades paler than normal. He didn’t even have the energy to respond, and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Concern immediately contorted at your features, especially when he looked so shaken. “Arthur, you look a little sick. What’s wrong? Can you talk?” 

He shook his head slowly before managing a weak smile at you. “Sorry, love.” It didn’t even faze him he just called you that. He was far too uncomfortable to feel the embarrassment from a nickname he should’ve saved until a little later. 

“I’m not... Too good with heights. Never have been... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His voice was slow and faint, and you were beginning to suspect he was having a panic attack. “... Sorry if I seem a little lame.” 

“No, of course not.” You frowned. “Things like this happen. Just breathe with me, okay? You can do it. Just count to ten.” 

Arthur took a deep inhale. “... Okay.” 

Around ten minutes later of these exchanges, he calmed down some, especially when you kept on reminding him that the carriage was finally descending. Once the ride was over, you had to help him up and walk him out. Now that he had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, it didn’t take long for him to recover. Even then, you remained rather cautious and stuck with him on your journey to Soho. By the time everyone took their seats in Circolo Popolare, a beautiful Italian restaurant Arthur so kindly booked, you were still looking out for him.

Leaning over to rest your head on the table, you glanced up at his face with a soft smile. “... You okay now?” 

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he nodded. You didn’t need to be this observant with him considering he was well now, but he loved your attentiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thank you. Now quit worrying about me, alright?” Rubbing the nape of his neck at that, you couldn’t help lingering on his body language for a moment.

It didn’t matter what he dressed like, or what his personality was. He could be endearing when it came to it, and a total softie too. And the thought made you smile even wider. If he thought you were cute, then you thought he was adorable. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” You slowly turned to Ivan, the action making Arthur tense up a little. 

Reaching out to your hand, he took it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

The feeling of his warm fingers around yours made your heart skip a beat. Did he just? Your thoughts manifested into your look of shock, and you darted your eyes over his neutral expression to try and decipher it. Before you could come up with anything, there was a phone in your face, followed by a flash. 

“Wha--?” 

He turned the screen to you to reveal a photo of you, and in your opinion, it was the least flattering picture anybody had ever taken of you. “I said I’d take an uglier photo of you, didn’t I?” Arthur grinned, the words acting like a cold splash of water to bring you back to reality. 

“... You sneaky little shit.” You growled. “Delete that right now!” 

“How about no?” 

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Arthur.” 

“I think you already have, love. You’re smiling right now.” 

You stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out to snatch his phone right out of his hands. Tapping furiously on the screen to get rid of it, you heard his chair scrape back violently as he tried to retrieve it. “Why, you--” 

But it was too late. Gone forever. Lost in the abyss of cyberspace. And so, he immediately channelled his frustration by jabbing his fingers into your sides. “If I can’t have that photo of you, at least let me do this!” You burst into a fit of laughter so loud, nearby patrons turned their heads. Only then did he pull away, leaving you to recover through breathless wheezing. 

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You whispered, but it was on an affectionate note more than anything. As you glowered at him from your seat, you never noticed Ivan doing the same thing, but he was glaring at the Brit for an entirely different reason. Arthur had to be the most self-aware person out there, and to make a scene in a restaurant like this? He really fell for you, didn’t he? 

When he realized Ivan’s scorching gaze burning into him, he froze. 

Not just out of how intimidated he was, but the epiphany that he was right all along. Why else was he acting so out of character? The only explanation was this--in the short time of being with you, he may or may not have developed a little crush. But that was no problem, right? 

All he needed to do was to ask you out. 

But that would prove a task easier said than done, especially when Ivan decided to attach himself to you by the hip after that stunt. That cunning bastard knew what he was doing. After a little window shopping around Bond street and Mayfair, he stuck to you like a tattoo, and kept it up until night fell. While the group walked around Camden, Ivan kept you by his side with a firm grip on your hand. 

When you asked why he was suddenly so clingy, he simply justified it with, “It’s dangerous for small people like you to wander around at night!” 

But Arthur called bullshit. Especially when the other went ahead and smirked at him right after saying it. Maybe he liked you too, but was refusing to admit it. How hypocritical. If not, then he probably didn’t want you making friends when you were the only friend he had. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to back down so easily. Camden may be the last destination for the night, and perhaps, the last time he’d see you again for God knows how long, but it was his trump card.

If this didn’t sweep you off your feet enough to get you to pull away from Ivan, nothing would. 

As a town famous for its thriving nightlife and punk culture, it encompassed everything he was passionate about, and he’d give anything to show it to you. So he included a visit to the bar here on the agenda today, one that hosted live music. While you and Ivan got comfortable in your seats, Arthur never made a move to sit down. 

It was already dim inside, so you never noticed him leave. The next time you saw him, it was a few minutes later when he was on stage with a few other musicians. Leaning forward with surprise, you watched him strap on a bright red electric guitar. Walking up to the microphone, he adjusted that. No way. 

You were still trying to process him being a professional performer, but a lead singer as well? 

The second he strummed the strings to start a guitar riff, he opened his mouth to start singing.

Play this while you read

undefined

Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach

His fingers never stopped moving as he belted out note after note. His voice was so different to how he talked, you had to do a double take. He sounded a little more rasp, a little more punk. To say you were impressed was an understatement. 

Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance

And no one even knew it was really only you

While he jammed out on stage, he was electric. The energy in the bar exploded, and he had everyone singing along. You could almost see the confidence in him shoot up from the excitable crowd, because he was smirking. 

Nice work, you did. 

You’re gonna go far, kid! 

Turning his head to you as he sung that line, you raised a hand to your mouth. Whether he did that on purpose or not was a mystery. But no words could describe how attractive it was. Hell, it even made you mind blank for a few moments. This was Arthur? He was like an entirely different person! Needless to say, you were completely star struck. 

You couldn’t even make out what Ivan was telling you when the music was blaring in your ears. But you didn’t care. Arthur had you caught in a trance with his voice and guitar all until the end. When the song finally ended, the band bowed graciously and threw up hand signs as the audience erupted in applause and cheers. 

When he stepped off the stage, you didn’t hesitate to run up to him. There, you practically pounced on him for a tight embrace. “Oh my god, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play so well! And sing, too! Why didn’t you tell me!?” You exasperated, pulling away to be met with his dazzling smile. It was the first time you’ve seen him so energetic, as if performing sparked a fire inside him that burned with youthful intensity. 

“I was dying to show you all day. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I had to save the best til’ last, didn’t I?” He grinned, feeling his heart swell up with warmth as he watched you light up. 

“Well, good on you! I loved it!” Squeezing him again, you felt his chest shake under his laughs. When you pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. But it felt so natural in the spur of the moment, even he didn’t seem to care. 

“Thanks again for today, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking us out today. You completely blew me away.”

The way how you phrased it reminded him of why he was here in the first place. That was right. He still had to ask you out. And with Ivan watching on from afar, this was his chance. The thought reddened his cheeks, but while you had his face in your hands, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. “Is that so? If that’s the case, how about I take you out again?” His expression grew serious. “A proper date, I mean.” 

It was your turn to blush, but you managed a quick answer. 

“No need to look so serious, love. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.” 

He chuckled and leaned in to peck your lips. “Stealing my vocabulary now, are we?” 

“Stealing kisses now, are we?” 

“Touché.” 

Now a third wheel of the group, he breathed out a soft sigh and rested his cheek on his hand. “I guess my job here is done.” It didn’t really look like it, but he had been trying to play the wingman all along. Arthur was always one to go a little crazy when he wanted something, and only more so when he was desperate. So all he gave him was a little push in the right direction. 

Maybe he would thank him later, but for now, he’d leave you two be. 

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

[scorsoneamelia]

colors

here’s an amelink au!! i am super excited for this one and it may be confusing i’m so sorry if it is!!! i’m planning on making this a multi-fic so that’s why it’s so short cause this is just basically the first but BUT i WILL be continuing this one! hope it’s good and isn’t too confusing

tw: mentions of death

              Colors didn’t exist; maybe they existed but nobody could see them. Everyone and everything was in black and white, skin color didn’t exist, nobody could tell when someone’s cheeks flushed red from embarrassment, the sky was always dark, cars were all the same color; the world was dull. It was either black, white or grey, some shades were darker and some were lighter. There was no such things as blues, purples, reds; nobody even knew what those were. Everyone saw in black and white unless they’re dying.

               They didn’t know why, they didn’t know how but according to anyone who was dying they saw the world differently, more brighter, more full; more full of life and some would laugh at the irony considering the moment they’re dying the world goes from dull to light. It’s been researched about, it’s been talked about and some people think it’s a myth; seeing something completely different from others just because you’re dying. It can’t be true.

              Some doctors believed it while some didn’t, people who weren’t dying thought they were crazy and some believed they actually were. (mind you, having people tell you you’re crazy, starts to sound believable.)

              Maybe that’s why Amelia believed just that; believed that she was crazy. Because enough people told her that and even when she would look out the window the trees were not the same dull and bland color they normally were, and the sky was brighter and the clouds seemed more white. The theory of her being crazy became more true because even though the sky and the trees were different, the rest of the world wasn’t.

              She was okay with being crazy; it made the world less dark and if it meant she got to look at the world this way until she dies, she’ll be okay with it. At least this way the sky didn’t match the darkness she had inside her.

               The grocery store was different, while most things were the same bland and gloomy shades, some things were lit up; bright and beautiful. The lettuce was the same colour as the trees, where as the strawberries and bananas were normal; what she was used to. The blueberries were the same as the sky, only a much darker shade. It was weird, and she had a confused look on her face the entire time while everyone else didn’t. She wonders if anyone else, anyone at all can see the fruits the same way she did. (maybe they were crazy too.)

                She was short, she’d admit that, especially when she was reaching for an item on a top shelf, her arm and fingers spread as far as they could, standing on the tip of her toes. A huff of frustration left her throat and she placed her feet flat onto the ground before she tried again, jumping slightly to try and reach the object.

                “Need any help?” There was a voice beside her, a male who was much taller than her was reaching for the object, and it was easier for him.

                 He handed her the box, and she noticed his eyes resembled the sky, it made her breath get caught in her throat. She’s never seen someone look like that; that beautiful. His jawline was sharp and his eyes were a color that she has never seen until today and she couldn’t stop staring. He towered over her, his body shape was lean and he was fit, and super attractive. There was an awkward silence, neither of them breaking contact and his eyebrow was raised.

               “This is usually the part where you say thank you,” his reply wasn’t hostile or rude, but he was smiling and there was a sparkle in his eyes that made him look even more beautiful. (if that was possible)

                “Uh, ya,” she was stumbling over her words, her cheeks getting warm and she had to force herself to look away, to look anywhere but into his eyes. “Thanks.”

                 Her hair was short, shoulder length and it was a dark brown with a hint of blonde at the ends, mind you, brown hair or blonde hair wasn’t a thing, you either had dark hair or light hair. Her eyes matched his although hers were a darker blue, something she never noticed until today. Usually her eyes were heavy, dark and there wasn’t any hint of life in them. The male looking at her thought she was beautiful though.

                “Atticus,” he was giving her his hand. “Lincoln.”

                “Atticus? As in-“

                “From To Kill a Mockingbird, yes, my parents are huge fans.” He interrupted her and she hadn’t grabbed his hand yet, although he still had it hovering in between them.

                “Amelia,” she finally answered, their hands connecting to shake each other’s hand; a casual greeting. “Shepherd.”

                 The rest of the world was frozen and it was just the two of them, they both must have been lost in each others eyes because neither of them would stop staring. If it were up to her, she’d stand here everyday until her life came to an end because this was better than the alternative.

                 She was dying. Two years ago, as a doctor; a surgeon, she had the unfortunate luck of getting diagnosed with Pancreatic cancer. This form of cancer is very aggressive and the survival rate is less than 50%. They found hers late because she never showed any symptoms until it was too late.

                 She tried radiation treatment in attempt to shrink the tumour, making it easier for the surgeons to remove it but after nine months of her feeling weak and losing her hair, she ended it. It wasn’t working, the cancer wasn’t shrinking, it was just staying the same.

                 She remembers sitting on the bathroom floor, head over the toilet and she was emptying out her stomach. Her hands were gripped so hard onto the toilet bowl it was like she was holding on for life. There was a pounding in her temples, and it was worse when her eyes were open. She never felt good, always feeling like she literally was hit by a bus, but that’s what radiation and cancer did to you, so there was nothing she could do but sit with her head in the bowl, slow breaths in through her mouth and tears would spill out of her eyes. 

                  Before the diagnosis, her hair was long, reaching to the middle of her back and it was thick. Most would argue that her hair was her best quality (until it wasn’t.) The radiation thinned out her hair, and she remembers all the nights she stood in front of her mirror and would watch her hands fill up with balls of her own hair. Her skin was more pale and she was losing weight. She wasn’t sure if the weight loss was from the radiation, the cancer or just because she had no motivation to eat. Her body was always weak and she was always so tired, she found herself always sleeping in later than usual and having naps constantly throughout the day. Even when she was awake, she wanted to stay in bed all day because, what was the point?

                 She made a promise to herself two years ago, a promise to not let anyone get too close. No friends, no boyfriends; nobody. Death comes with pain, and at this point it was all inevitable. How selfish would it be for her to make friends with someone and die none months later? If anyone got too close to her, she’d be leaving, she’d be leaving too too soon for anyone to be able to accept so being alone was her decision. Of course, she still had people in her life pre-cancer but those people were also loyal and too nice to listen to Amelia push them out of her life. 

                 So maybe that’s the reason why she turned away from Atticus, her hands gripping onto the shopping kart and her knuckles were white. Don’t make friends with this guy.

                “Are you from here?” He spoke again and his voice was like music to her ears. 

                “No,” she replied. “I moved here years ago.” She wasn’t going to give this guy much information because they were not going to get to know each other, she refuses it. 

                “Maybe I’ll see you around?” His voice was hopeful, and she could see the hope in his eyes, too.

                “Listen,-” she was going to be honest, tell him that she isn’t worth his time, that she wasn’t interested but instead she found herself lying. “I’m moving out of Seattle soon, maybe we’ll run into each other again and maybe... we won’t.”

                “I’m hoping for the first option.” So was she, but she promised herself and she doesn’t want to let herself break that promise because the more people she knows, the more people she hurts and it’ll make dying more difficult for her.

                “I will...” she trailed off, eyes meeting each others again and it took her breath away again. “see you around.” 

               “I’m looking forward to it.” She thinks his smile is as pretty as his eyes; maybe even prettier. He thinks she’s the most beautiful. 

               They were both flustered and it was obvious, but both of them tried to casually play it off before he disappeared around a corner, leaving her alone in the grocery store aisle. Perfect. Alone; just the way she wanted it to be. 

               Her doctor said that she had between nine and 12 months to live, the surgery wouldn’t be successful because her tumour was considered inoperable and too aggressive. Surgery would have been done if the radiation treatment would have worked by shrinking her tumour significantly, but unfortunately she was unlucky and didn’t get that option. It took a long time for her to process, there’s still a part of her that hasn’t completely processed the fact that she is, infact, dying. Soon her life will be over, she’ll never see anybody ever again, never be a doctor again and she’s come to terms with it (kind of), but some part of her is always wishing for a miracle. 

             She hasn’t kept in touch with her family, but it’s not like they’ve been begging for her attention or even putting in an ounce of effort. Amelia has lost people before, her family has lost people before and if not speaking to her family will make the pain they may or may not experience any less, then maybe that means cutting off everybody she once cared about. 

              Most people who have less than a year to live would create a bucketlist, sleep with however many people they want, do whatever they want until they take their last breath. Not Amelia though, instead she chose to push everyone away and spend her last few months doing what she loves; operating. But since she could literally die at any minute, she had to quit her job at the hospital. So, since she couldn’t do what she wanted to do she decided to be alone and as tragic as it sounds, Amelia finds comfort in it.

             So no, she doesn’t hope she runs into the boy again mostly because she knows herself and she doesn’t trust it. She doesn’t trust the way his eyes make her feel, or the way his voice sounds or how his smile makes her hands tremble and her knees weak. No friends, no attachment. No boyfriends, no pain. 

[livinghostly]

oogies!

sokka x reader

not my gif!

words: 2119

request/summary: sokka gets the oogies around aang and katara, but you have a feeling it's something more than that.

a/n: sokka bby i love u

it started months ago, when you first had been recruited into the gaang. you knew katara and aang were close, but you wouldn't have noticed the romantic tension between them if it wasn't for sokka.

at first he didn't acknowledge it so much, the occasional eye roll here and there. then, it all became too much for him to bear: the longing glances, always taking each other's sides, constantly having to be around each other or else panic mode would ensue.

"you guys are giving me the oogies," sokka said offhandedly, crossing his arms.

huffing, katara stomped her foot. "sokka, would you stop that?"

his total disgust towards the couple bothered you some, only because you liked him. it was a feeling you couldn't shake, a constant flutter in your chest when you looked at him. he was charming and unapologetically himself, always able to draw a smile to your face even if it meant embarrassing himself. he'd been there for you through your hardest times and despite his usual pessimism, he showed you things would always be okay in the end. and he'd be there with you.

"oogies?" you echoed aloud, looking between the two siblings. your eyes landed on aang between them, who seemed to be just as confused as you were.

"aang and katara!" the water tribe pointed a finger accusingly at them. "keep the couple stuff to yourself, please."

"we–" katara shook her head, blushing furiously. her eyes were closed tightly so she couldn't see the bashful grin aang had. "we are not a couple!"

you were gathered around a campfire with your friends– except for toph, who was desperate for some sleep after a rough past few days. she retreated to her impromptu tent next to appa. you shared a log with sokka, poking at a fire with a stick you'd found.

sokka reached into the food bag, searching for something other than aang's ridiculous fruits and grains. "do we have any fish? or meat? i'm starving."

from the opposite side of the fire, aang erupted into a nervous fit of giggles. you raised your stare from the flames to see katara's hand placed gently over his, the two of them blushing messes. she smiled softly and looked at the ground.

the midst of a war wasn't a great time for dating, you knew, but at the same time you didn't understand why they refused to confess to each other. their entire relationship was beating around the bush. but you liked seeing them together, they made each other happy. you wanted something like that.

beside you, sokka looked between you, and then the couple, and then back to you. his eyebrows twitched upward with a sudden sadness, but he shook his head to get rid of the feeling.

not noticing his fleeting glances, you looked back to the fire, before throwing the poking stick in front of you. attempting to be subtle, you scooted closer to him. the actions made your cheeks warm.

"nevermind, i think i've lost my appetite," he tossed the bag off to the side with a sudden frown.

you smiled to yourself, watching him cross his arms and scoff at the two. they didn't pay enough attention to him to notice the sudden change in his attitude, but you nudged him softly with your elbow. sokka lifted his head and met your eyes again, so you could see the pout dawning his features.

"you're acting like a child, you know."

"i am not!" he argued loudly.

with a playful smirk, you raised your eyebrows. his defensiveness faltered as he realized he was only proving your point, and he hunched over to hide the blush that was forming.

his volume caught the attention of your friends, averting their gazes from each other with wide eyes.

katara pulled her eyebrows together in concern. "you're not what?"

"not minding his own business," you said casually, holding back a smile. he huffed in annoyance, shaking his head.

"so, nothing new," aang chimed in with a bright grin.

"alright, alright!" sokka cried, throwing his hands in the air. he stood up, and you rolled your eyes at his dramatics. "i'm going to bed, you've officially ruined this fire for me."

he took one step away, and your hand flew out to catch his. you effectively stopped him in his place, and he turned to look at you with wide eyes.

you loosened your grip, but tugged him back towards you. "come on, sokka. we were just joking, don't leave!"

a sense of pride blossomed in his chest, and he squeezed your hand. "maybe i'll come back out when the lovebirds find their nest."

his hand slipped from your grip and he began to walk away, now able to let himself smile brightly. he missed the feel of your hand on his again, knowing he didn't appreciate it enough the first time around.

katara was glaring holes into his back. she called out to him, "you know what, sokka? you give me the oogies!"

"doesn't make any sense when you do it, katara!" he disappeared into his tent.

"it doesn't make any sense in the first place!" she let out a scream of frustration.

after a few days, you and the others moved locations, slowly but surely getting closer to the fire nation. aang found an empty field for your temporary homes, much to toph's liking, a good place to practice earth bending.

aang wasn't as interested in that, though. he wasn't too far down at the beach, with katara. the two of them were splashing around in the water together, creating the biggest waves they could muster and slamming them down on their opponent.

their laughter echoed through the empty field, only to be broken by a frustrated groan from a few feet away.

sokka was leaning against one of the trees bordering the forest, glaring towards the two. he was sharpening his sword, getting more aggressive as time went on. though he knew he caught your attention, he didn't elaborate on his annoyance.

setting down the basket you had, you pulled the sword from his hand, and slid it back into it's holster. "what's wrong, sokka?"

"it's the oogies, they're bringing me down," he drawled with a frown.

you hummed thoughtfully looking at the beach, then turned to him. "you want to come picking berries with me?" you offered, holding out an extra woven basket.

sokka glanced at you, to the basket, back to you. he did that a lot. and he had a landslide of a preference for meat, you knew that, but you also knew he'd rather get away from the campsite if his sister and aang were going to be flirting the entire time.

"i'm the meat guy," he mumbled, mostly to himself. nevertheless, he gently took the basket in his own hand and pushed himself off the tree. a playful grin pulled at his lips, and he leaned into you, "but i guess if you really, really want me to."

"i wouldn't want anybody else," you teased, nudging him softly with your arm. he didn't budge, and you instead knocked yourself into him and staying at his side.

sokka's eyes seemed to light up at your comment, his smile breaking through. all thoughts regarding katara and aang were long forgotten, and he sighed contently as he looked out to the forest. he marched happily, leading the way towards a bush of orange berries.

"y/n, look at these!" he picked the branch off of the bush, holding it out for you to see. they were practically mesmerizing with their color and the strange shape they held. he quickly popped it into his mouth.

you giggled at his excitement. "you know, those could have been poisonous."

horror flashed across his face, and he was instantly spitting it back on to the ground. he threw the broken branch along with it. "are they? poisonous?"

"no."

his expression turned to one of betrayal. if he wasn't the victim of your prank, he would have been laughing. he turned his back to you to find another bush. "that was a cruel joke, y/n."

you were quick to follow him, not wanting to him to stray too far in unfamiliar woods. if sokka slipped into panic mode, things would get ugly. "could you find it in your heart to forgive me?" you asked sweetly, maneuvering in front of him. he turned his head away, holding his chin high so he didn't have to face you.

"no, i don't think so."

falling next to him again, you groaned playfully, giving up easily. instead, you pulled your mouth to the side and analyzed the forest you dragged your feet through. you didn't catch the way he looked at you, watching as your eyes lit up when you spotted another bush.

silence fell between you, the only sounds being his aggressive pulls at the branches and the looming creatures ever-so-slightly running over sticks and leaves in the distance. though you were sure he didn't mind, it bothered you. you had questions, and he was acting as if nothing was wrong.

"so, why do aang and katara bother you so much?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. you kept an eye on him as he inspected a pink berry carefully, and then dropped it into his basket.

"they don't bother me," he said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

you stopped in place with an confused expression, letting your arms fall to your side. "you could've fooled me, all you do is complain when they're together."

sokka's shoulders dropped, and his movements seemed to slow. he picked a purple berry from one of the bushes and began to toy with it in his hand. "i'm glad they have each other, you know, it's just..." he shook his head. "i feel like they're rubbing it in my face sometimes. like a reminder i'm not going to have that with..."

"oh." you felt your stomach sink, and pulled your lips into your mouth for a moment. "is it because you miss suki?"

"what? i don't miss suki. not like that, anyway."

"yue?"

"no, y/n–"

"are you talking about that one girl from the earth kingdom vill–"

"no!" sokka squeaked. he was blushing furiously, and had nearly poured all the berries out as he fumbled the basket in his hands. he tried to bring his voice down to it's normal octave, "it's none of them. it doesn't matter, anyway, the girl want all that stuff with doesn't want it with me. and it's okay."

you pulled your bottom lip between your teeth. it was a sucker punch to the gut, depriving you of your composure. "so, there is a girl?"

he took in a deep breath, "yeah– and, and she's great. i mean, we've been through a lot together and looking back on everything– i can't imagine being without her." he shook his head, finding a tree stump to sit on. "but i can't have with her what aang has with katara. she doesn't like me like i like her."

setting your basket down, you sat next to him. he was playing with the handle nervously with his head ducked down and shoulders hunched, refusing to look at you.

"sokka, what?" you let out a weak laugh, finding what he said unbelievable. "i mean, that's crazy. how could she not like you?"

he stayed silent, and you continued.

"if she really doesn't, then she's not worth your time, sokka. don't waste your energy on unreciprocated feelings, it just ends up draining you–"

"you're the girl, y/n."

you stopped, leaning back just the slightest in surprise. he looked up at you, gently setting the basket on the ground. "me?"

"i didn't want to say anything because i didn't want to mess up our friendship. i thought it would go away after i first met you, but it hasn't. i just– i want to be your friend."

a smile tugged at your lips, "well, i don't want to be your friend, sokka. it seems silly now."

his shoulders dropped further than they were, and he looked in the opposite direction. "i get that. i'll leave you alone, if that's–"

softly, you placed your fingers under his chin and pulled it towards you. before he could ask why, you kissed him. he hesitated, and then kissed you back. he held back his smile as he hand found your cheek.

"y/n, toph and i were wondering if you–" katara stopped herself short, eyes widening in horror as she spotted the two of you. "oh, spirits!"

you broke away from sokka in surprise, pulling his hand from your face and interlocking your fingers instead. your mouth opened, you weren't quite sure what to say, but you could tell she wasn't either. her jaw was agape as she stuttered, processing the whole situation.

she pointed at you. "you guys– you're– oogies!" she smiled triumphantly. "oogies!" she turned around briefly, calling out to your camp. "aang, oogies!"

"you started this," you raised your eyebrows, looking at sokka accusingly. "this is on you."

"you kissed me!"

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Somehow Technoblade had managed the spectacular achievement of becoming the odd one out in an entire community made up of rare and strange beings.

The fact that all the other residents were non-humans happened to be what made him different though. Wilbur had told him the history of the commune, how their town was founded with the direct purpose of being a safe place for mobs and hybrids to live in peace, secluded from the humans who hunted them, enslaved them, or would otherwise harm them. Their location was kept secret, hidden from most by enchantments, and they were almost completely self-sufficient in the way they were run in terms of food and stuff.

Only occasionally would somebody wander out to another village, to trade or just to seek a little adventure for themselves. Phil especially was prone to do this – a traveler at heart, his Elytrian nature – and he was the one who had found Technoblade in a rather... compromising position.

If by compromising you could mean having an arrow sticking out your back.

People didn't like Technoblade. And Technoblade generally didn't like people, but he liked it even less when they chased him out of their villages with their bows drawn. Phil had been kind enough to remove the projectile. Technoblade had bravely said it didn't hurt but then secretly dug his blunt nails into the palms of his hands hard enough to leave white indents. Then Phil had insisted on taking him home to get a proper look at the wound and clean it up.

Not all of the other residents were thrilled with Technoblade's presence at first, scared it could compromise their location. A lot of their tunes had changed when they found out other humans were the cause of his injury, even more so when Techno revealed this was hardly an isolated incident. People didn't like Technoblade at all.

(Most humans had little tolerance for that which they did not understand. And according to them, Technoblade was weird and very hard to understand. Techno understood himself perfectly fine, he always thought they were the weird ones.)

So he stayed and overall things worked out great. There were only minor issues caused by the 'only human around' thing. Their pub was a good example. A few of the others in the commune could simply fly or teleport, and those that couldn't had no problems either since they could rely on inhuman stamina to make the climb tolerable. Techno had a hundred rungs of a ladder he needed to brave with his pitiful human physique if he wanted to get up there. Same thing for Phil's ridiculously high-up birdhouse.

And then one day he got sick.

It was probably his own fault. Last night when it was storming he'd been coming home from mining and gotten completely soaked out in the rain. A small voice in the back of his mind told him he should probably take his drenched clothes off and get warm and comfortable as soon as he got home – the voice sounded suspiciously like Phil when he lectured Techno about fixing his terrible sleeping schedule and eating more regularly. But he had gotten distracted by putting away the materials he'd mined into his chests and starting to smelt the ore and by the time he noticed he was shivering at how cold it was, his clothes were damp more than wet. He lighted the fire and felt too exhausted to bother getting changed, crawling under the covers as he was - though it didn't completely ward away further trembling.

When he woke up his head hurt and there was this annoying tickle in his chest, feather-light touches against his lungs. The clothes had become sticky and uncomfortable, peeling off his skin. Techno coughed into a fist and set out as normal, intent on resuming his tasks where he left off yesterday.

It would probably go away on its own.

Except the coughing didn't stop. Small bursts of it kept coming up when he needed them least. He was in the middle of one when a voice rang out behind him.

"Techno, are you okay dude?" He must have jumped a solid three feet into the air and for a moment Wilbur only chuckled at his reaction.

"I told you to stop doing that," Techno grumbled, a little too sharply. Just because Wilbur could literally appear out of nowhere didn't mean he had to use that ability to sneak up on him for no reason. Techno coughed again, hiding it in his elbow.

"You did," Wilbur acknowledged with a smirk, but didn't apologize. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look I'm doing, I'm headed to the mines." Techno swung his pickaxe up on his shoulder, kind of almost nearly dropping it in the process with how clumsy his hands were being. Stupid.

"It looks like you were hacking up a lung, really." Wilbur's features softened. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine," Techno responded. He started walking again, knowing Wilbur would have a hard time following him while in corporeal form. Especially in the daytime.

"Are you coming to the pub later? I've got some new plans to unveil, think they'll be sick." Wilbur did make a valiant attempt at following him, though he quickly started falling behind, floating inches above the ground and unable to keep up with Techno's human strides.

"Uh, I'll think about it?" Techno answered evasively. He wasn't looking forward to braving that ladder in his current state. His arms hurt just thinking about it.

Wilbur stopped to call after him. "What do you mean you'll think about it?"

But Techno was far enough gone to be able to pretend not to hear him as he descended down his mineshaft.

Techno liked Niki's hair a lot. He'd even told her so not long after meeting her.

It was long and wavy and a nice shade of pastel pink that reminded him of the sunset. Technoblade would consider growing out his own hair that long if he didn't know it was way too unruly to keep in shape and stay untangled. And if dyeing it wasn't such a chore – one he knew he'd be too lazy to undertake as regularly as he should – he might have dyed it from its boring brown shade into something more interesting.

Niki was glad he was keeping her company while she tended to it, combing through it with what he presumed was a comb made of a seashell. Techno didn't tell her he had only really left the mines early because his lungs were starting to strain from the dust down there, the coughing fits getting closer together with less time in between to let him breathe. He sat on the sandy shore and traced patterns into the sand with one finger while they talked.

Niki was telling him about her builds, and expressing her disappointment over how she couldn't easily show them to her friends. None of them could breathe underwater or deal with the pressure common at the depths Niki lived. But she loved describing them in detail.

She was just explaining the sea glass she was intending to use when Technoblade started coughing again. His lungs expressed their displeasure through a series of sharp pangs that shot up into his neck. The sound he made was wet and disgusting, like there was something liquid rattling around inside his chest. Niki stopped talking to look at him worriedly.

"Are you alright? Techno, what happened?"

He tried to wave her away but it was kind of hard with his body still intent on making it impossible for him to get oxygen. Techno closed his eyes against the blurriness of his vision to concentrate on inhaling slower instead. "M'fine." He could feel the phlegm in his throat.

Niki was pulling herself onto the beach a little, trying to get a closer look at him. "Are you sick?"

"No." Getting up so fast was a bad idea. His head spun and he felt incredibly shaky. Techno ignored it. "No, I'm not. It's fine. I think I'll just head home now."

He started walking away quickly. The afternoon sun felt unbearable suddenly, scorching. Or maybe that was the beginning of a fever.

Niki called after him to wait but confined to the water as she was, it wasn't like she could do anything to stop him. Technoblade walked until he crested the hill, already seeing the shape of the other buildings in the distance. He made it halfway through the grass field and then he felt too drained to continue. Deciding to sit down for a bit, he lay back and closed his eyes.

"Do you think he's dead?"

"I dunno, we should poke him with a stick to find out."

Techno groaned at the sound of loud voices, ringing painfully around his aching head. He cracked his eyes open – not sure when he had even fallen asleep - and tried to blink the three faces hovering above him into focus.

"Oh, I think he's alive. Kind of." That was Ranboo.

"We could still poke him, just to make sure." Tommy.

Which meant the third person had to be Tubbo.

Techno pushed up on his elbows to get into a seated position, hating how difficult it was. His limbs were weak, as if they were made of jelly or some shit. The light fever had escalated into him feeling like his entire body was on fire.

This was not good.

"-chno? Hey, anybody home?" Tubbo was talking to him, waving one hand in front of his face. If his frown was any indication, Techno had been spacing out for a while.

"Hm?" he asked.

"I think there's something wrong with him," Tubbo said to the others.

"I'm fine." Techno tried standing up but fell back onto his ass a moment later when dizziness plowed into him with the force of a boulder. Tommy snorted.

"Yeah, we can tell." He reached out but pulled his hand back as soon as it came into contact with Techno's skin. "Fuck you're almost the same temperature as Jack Manifold. Pretty sure humans aren't supposed to run that hot."

"I'll get Phil," Ranboo offered, teleporting before Techno had a chance to object.

He covered his face with his hands and sighed. This was going to be a thing now and that happened to be the exact opposite of what Technoblade wanted it to be. He just wanted to go home and sleep this off.

"You're not..." Tubbo broke through his thoughts. The boy hesitated, wings vibrating a bit with nervous energy. "You're not like... actually dying are you?"

Techno tried to answer but was interrupted by another coughing fit first. When he was done Tubbo looked even more anxious than before. "Probably not. It's just a cold."

It was definitely not a simple cold. Pneumonia, more likely.

"Oh good."

Techno agreed. Not dying would probably be good, even if he currently felt like death warmed over.

Philza took him to the pub, much to Technoblade's horror.

All his protests and insistence he'd be fine if he was just taken to his house were brushed off easily, especially when Phil took flight with Techno barely able to keep from falling off his back when dark spots took over his vision. If it weren't for Phil's supporting hands keeping him steady he's probably have fallen off.

Normally Techno didn't dislike flying with Phil – despite the other always making some quip about how little Techno weighed for his height. But this time the vertigo was horrible and made him want to puke. Maybe it was fortunate he had skipped breakfast this morning.

They landed on the wooden porch softly, Phil keeping Techno's arm around his shoulder as he put him down to make sure he wouldn't collapse. Techno wasn't about to admit he probably needed that, though he muttered a quick thanks under his breath, which was starting to get more wheezing by the minute. There wasn't an inch of his body that didn't ache.

There were a few beds in the backrooms of the pub, sometimes used for newcomers to temporarily reside. Techno found himself dumped into one, not really caring where Phil went when he left the room. Not when the sheets were so blessedly cool and comfortable. He could have probably fallen back asleep soon if Phil hadn't returned almost instantly.

"I checked with Sneeg, he said this should help a little." Phil sat down on the bed, holding up a cup with the nastiest-looking brown tea inside it Technoblade ever did see. "I'm sorry we don't have any real potions to give you, but he's closest to you in physiology, so I'm hoping this will be enough. We don't exactly have a lot of experience with human illness."

"Did you ask him if it was poisonous?" Techno asked, eyeing the steaming liquid.

"Don't be dramatic." Phil handed him the cup. Techno sighed and downed the herbal tea in one go, suppressing his gag reflex. Medicinal and earthy, it somehow tasted worse than it looked. He didn't think that was possible.

"Great, can I go home now?"

Phil shook his head as he got up again, taking the cup from him. "You're not going anywhere until your fever breaks. You think I flew you all the way up here for fun?"

"Possibly."

Rolling his eyes as he leaves the room, Phil once again came back only a moment later. This time he was holding a bowl of what Techno could only presume was water going by the cloth that was soaking in it. Phil gestured for him to lie down properly and this time Techno obeyed without complaint.

"I think it's best if you stay here for a while," he said while folding the cloth and putting it on Techno's forehead. The coldness of it did feel nice against his pounding headache. "The pub is the best place for us to take turns keeping an eye on you."

"I don't need you guys to keep an eye on me, though. I'm not a child."

"No, you're just a stubborn asshole with pneumonia." Phil drew back a bit, smile faltering. "And also the only human currently living in the commune. We don't have the needed supplies to treat you should this get worse, so I'd rather not take the risk."

And while he did a fair job hiding it, it was undeniably clear Phil was worried.

"Fine, I'll stay." Techno made an effort of showing how annoyed he was by huffing and pulling the blankets over himself. "But can you at least get me a book or something? Won't help much keeping me here if I'll be bored to death."

Phil laughed – light and teasing. Techno liked that a lot more than he did the worry.

"I'll see what I can do."

He spent a solid week in bed.

Much to Phil's relief, Techno's sickness did not get worse. But without proper medicine, it didn't improve as quickly as they would have liked either. He had to get better the old-fashioned way: waiting for his body to fight off the infection on its own.

Most of his time was spent sleeping. Whenever he woke up somebody else was at his bedside, to make sure he could eat and drink. Phil hadn't been kidding when he said they'd take turns. It was almost comforting to know there was always someone watching over him while he slept, though Techno didn't feel the need to say that out loud.

After that first week, he was recovered enough to at least limp out of his room and around the pub. He was too weak to attempt the ladder and any sudden moves were still likely to throw him into a coughing fit that could last several minutes. But he could sit at one of the tables and talk to Niki when she visited.

Or to the others, who all seemed to be coming by a lot more often than was usual.

Wilbur unveiled his plans and talked Techno's ear off about what he was working on. Fundy came all the way to the pub to try and sell him stolen trinkets. Ranboo was always coming around with some new book for him to read, asking him if he liked his previous recommendation.

(None of them visited as often as Tommy though, who always complained about having to be there while fluffing up his wings, yet always stuck around the longest even when Techno told him he'd be fine on his own.)

And with them around, Techno realized that despite being the only human, he had never felt less alone.

[toorusbaby]

second choice, pt. 1

hi guys (: this is my very first piece of writing that i’m publishing and i’m so nervous excited to share this with whoever’s reading. thank you for giving this a chance, ily reader. i put my heart and soul into this (literally, it took me ages) and i didn’t think i’d ever share it with anybody else, but here i am at 11:56 p.m lol. there are six parts in total, some longer than the rest. i hope you enjoy <3

summary: being in love with hajime iwaizumi is like riding a rollercoaster of emotions. it’s thrilling as it is exciting, but you feel a little lightheaded... because he doesn’t know how you feel. the worst part? he thinks you’re in love with his best friend. 

warnings: just pure fluff, oikawa cockblocks, slow burn, slight angst if you squint real hard

word count: 2,924

part two here

Iwaizumi silently watched from the exit of the ramen shop as Oikawa eagerly helped you gather your belongings at the table the three of you just finished using. Despite the indistinct conversation you and his team captain were sharing, Iwaizumi didn’t fail to notice your small giggles that were probably in response to one of Oikawa’s many attempts at flirting with you. Who in their right mind wouldn’t flirt with you? You were a sight to behold, at least in Iwaizumi’s eyes... and every other male’s at Aoba Johsai, including none other than Oikawa. 

It was no secret, not even to you, that you were attractive. With curves in all of the right places, glowing skin, and bright doe eyes framed by long, curled lashes, you were everything females wanted to look like and what every man dreamed of calling theirs. 

Even though he knew you were physically gorgeous, Iwaizumi was more drawn to the beauty of your soul. Your alluring intelligence intrigued him the very moment he first heard you speak your mind without hesitation in class on the first day of school when you were both first years. When you became an assistant manager for the Aoba Johsai volleyball club during your second year, your kindness enthralled him when he discovered that you voluntarily stayed up all night on multiple occasions to devise game plans for every Seijoh volleyball match. 

By your current third year of high school, Iwaizumi found himself utterly captivated by your empathy when he saw you through his silent tears, embracing a sobbing Kindaichi away from peering eyes, whispering words of comfort despite your own sobbing, shaking frame as a result of Seijoh’s lost chance of attending Nationals. Back at Seijoh later that day, Iwaizumi overheard Kunimi thanking you for comforting Kindaichi when he couldn’t do so himself. When he saw you smile, gently place a hand on the second year’s shoulder, and reassure him that you would do absolutely anything for ‘your boys’, he was enamored. 

It was safe to say that Hajime Iwaizumi had fallen in love with you. 

“Y/N, let me walk you home. It’s already dark out. Can’t stand the thought of my pretty girl getting into danger, you know?” Oikawa’s flirtatious words brought Iwaizumi’s attention back to reality. The green eyed boy’s gaze landed on your approaching frame and he couldn’t help but grin when you rolled your eyes in mock annoyance. 

“The sun isn’t setting for another hour, Oikawa. I’m sure I’ll be fine,” You reassured, giving Iwaizumi a smile of gratitude when he opened the door for you. Oikawa’s quick stumbling after you however, completely destroyed the butterflies that fluttered in Iwaizumi’s stomach, causing the annoyed ace to huff. 

The three of you made your way to the corner of the street but not before Oikawa could stop whining. “Y/N, you can’t possibly leave me with Iwa-chan!” The setter complained with a pout and sagged shoulders but you paid him no mind. 

“Oi,” Iwaizumi grumbled, harshly elbowing his best friend’s chest, emitting a yelp from the pretty setter. “What’s that supposed to mean, dumbass?” 

You glanced at the red crosslight before facing the two volleyball players with a grin. “Don’t be ridiculous, ‘Kawa. Iwa gives the best company. Isn’t that right, Iwa-chan?” You turned to Iwaizumi with a toothy smile, a small giggle leaving your lips when the spiky haired boy pouted. Hajime’s cheeks flushed not only because of how cute you looked craning your neck to look up at him, but also because of your usage of his cursed but infamous nickname.

Maybe that stupid nickname isn’t so bad, Iwaizumi quickly thought. Thanks, Oikawa. 

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to respond, but before he could speak, Oikawa cut him off. 

“Lying isn’t good, little manager. But if you give me a hug, I won’t complain for the rest of today… maybe.” The setter smirked and opened his arms in your direction. 

I take my ‘thanks’ back, you sly fucker, Iwaizumi thought begrudgingly. 

Once again, the ace felt as if he had been punched in the gut. When Iwaizumi saw you chuckle and embrace his cocky best friend, who was more than happy to tightly wrap his arms around your body, jealousy filled the boy to the brink. The hug you gave Oikawa was a hug he desperately wanted for himself instead. Sure, friends hugged each other all the time; Iwaizumi could simply ask you for one and call it a day. 

Would Y/N even be comfortable with that? 

It was that specific question that constantly lingered in the back of his mind. The fact that he had the biggest crush in the world on you however, prevented Iwaizumi from even wanting to ask you for one in the first place. 

It was simple, really; the only thing that scared Iwaizumi more than asking you for a hug, was simply being rejected by you under any circumstance. 

On the other hand, you always questioned why Iwaizumi never seemed to want to have any physical contact with you. You were comfortable with all of the boys on the volleyball team; even Kyoutani, of all people, allowed you to give him small side hugs. The only times you and Hajime ever made physical contact were through quick high-fives on the court when he scored points during games. Other than that, everything between the two of you was verbal. Hugging him was definitely out of the question. Perhaps Iwaizumi liked having physical boundaries set in place? Or maybe because you were a girl and he was hesitant? You weren’t sure, but you could understand. After all, the ace did have his shy moments despite his aggression towards Oikawa. 

You never admitted it to anybody, not even to yourself, but Iwaizumi’s physical distance made you feel insecure. You thought you were fairly attractive and friendly enough; you felt confident most of the time. Did something about you disgust him? Did you talk too much to the point where you annoyed him? Did he lie about viewing you as a friend only to preserve peace within the volleyball team? 

The idea of Hajime disliking anything about you caused your stomach to twist and turn. After all, it was only natural since you’ve had such strong feelings for Aoba Johsai’s beloved ace for quite a while. 

Your troubled thoughts clouded your mind and you instinctively clung onto Oikawa a bit tighter. The action didn’t go unnoticed by Iwaizumi, who was surprised to feel his fingernails carving crescent shaped marks into his right palm. He immediately released his grip and clenched his jaw. Even if the ace decided to turn his gaze away from the sight of his crush and best friend hugging, it definitely didn’t help when Oikawa grinned and began to make flirty comments about how perfectly you fit in his arms. 

It definitely struck a nerve, but the pain was overshadowed by jealousy and annoyance. 

Iwaizumi had never experienced relief the way he did when he saw the crosslight finally signal for pedestrians to cross the street. With a quick sigh, the boy called out to you and Oikawa. “Shittykawa, you can let her go now. She has to cross,” he said and gestured to the crosswalk. It had taken all of Hajime’s willpower to steady his voice and keep the venom out of his voice. 

At the sound of Iwaizumi’s voice, you immediately let go of Oikawa, ignoring the captain’s small whimpers and claims of ‘missing you already.’ Instead, you made your way to the edge of the curb instead. You thanked the spiky haired boy with a bright smile which he returned, but something about it was strained. Even if your heart ached at his weak expression, you found yourself quickly adjusting Iwaizumi’s unfolded collar, an odd habit you developed as the team manager, before stepping onto the pavement. 

Iwaizumi was caught off guard by your sudden action but kept his composure regardless. Clearing his throat, he lifted his hand to offer you a small wave. “Be safe, Y/N. Text one of us when you get home, yeah? And don’t stay up too late studying for tomorrow’s exam,” the ace chided. “You seriously need to get more sleep.” 

Your smile widened at Iwaizumi’s protective words, even though you’ve heard them on multiple occasions. I’d get more sleep if you didn’t occupy my every thought at two in the morning, you thought before stepping onto the pavement. When Oikawa’s pleas for you to text him instead of Iwaizumi interrupted your thoughts, you teasingly rolled your eyes at the setter, but nodded at the shorter boy beside him. 

“I’ll text, don’t worry. As for getting more sleep, I can’t make any promises... but I’ll see you two tomorrow. Be a good boy, Toru!” You joked and gave Oikawa, whose cheeks were crimson from the cold and your usage of his first name, a pointed stare before making your way home. The setter chuckled to himself and shoved his hands into his pockets, moving to stand beside his best friend who silently watched you walk down the street.

When you were a safe distance away, Oikawa opened his mouth to speak. The setter’s words were so sudden, Iwaizumi had to steady himself; otherwise, he would have stumbled off the sidewalk and into the now moving traffic. 

“You like her, don’t you?” The taller brunette noted, his eyes unwavering from your shrinking figure the farther you walked away. It wasn’t a question, but rather a statement that needed confirmation before anything else could be said. Oikawa’s tone wasn’t the usual, cheerful one that Iwaizumi was familiar with. Instead, it was serious. The team captain didn’t have to look at Iwaizumi to know that the green eyed boy was far too stunned and flustered to come up with words of denial. 

The deep shade of red that tinged Iwaizumi’s ears and cheeks, along with widened eyes was enough to confirm Oikawa’s assumption. With a click of his tongue, the team captain chuckled under his breath, his lips molding into a small smile. Iwaizumi didn’t have any words; he didn’t know what to say. What could he say? How do you tell your best friend that you’ve been in love with the girl that he’s currently interested in? What kind of best friend does that?

Maybe Iwaizumi wasn’t the ‘best’ friend after all. 

The small nudge of Oikawa’s elbow to Iwaizumi’s arm caused the flustered boy to shove both hands into his pockets. Together, the duo silently made their way onto another familiar street in order to get home. No words were spoken until the ramen shop was out of sight; only the shuffling of shoes against the ground could be heard. With his hands folded behind his neck and head leaned back to admire the clouds, Oikawa was the first to break the silence. 

“You know you can tell me anything, Iwa,” Oikawa adjusted the strap of his shoulder bag, turning his head to glance at his friend. “It’s okay if you like Y/N.” 

With a swallow of his throat and a heavy sigh, Hajime focused the path ahead of him before responding. “Look, Oikawa. I’m sorry. Really. I know you told me you were into her, but I’ve liked her since our first year. I tried to stop when you told me you were interested,” Iwaizumi’s fists clenched in the pockets of his jacket and his eyebrows furrowed. “But I just...” he began to twirl a loose piece of thread from his jacket between his fingers, a nervous habit of his. “I couldn’t. I can’t. Whatever, it doesn’t matter.“ He cut himself off. 

Since I think she likes you too, was what Iwaizumi was going to finish off with, but it would make his heart ache even more than it already was. As much of a pain Oikawa was, Iwaizumi knew his best friend didn’t deserve to be the target of his demise. It wasn’t Oikawa’s fault, not at all; it was his own for liking you as much as he did.

Especially because he knew that he could never compete with his best friend. 

It was no secret that between the duo, Toru Oikawa was always the preferred choice. The first choice, in fact. He was as attractive as he was charismatic; who in their right mind wouldn’t be interested in Oikawa? He was six feet tall and the oh-so very talented captain of the volleyball team, not to mention the fact that the setter received at least two love confessions a day from swooning fangirls. 

What special qualities did Iwaizumi possess that could even compare to his best friend’s many accomplishments? Sure, he was the team’s ace. After his failed stunt against Karasuno’s team at qualifiers however, Iwaizumi now believed he wasn’t worthy of such a title. On a better note, the green eyed boy came to realize that he was in fact good-looking, having received a number of love confessions himself. Even if he had a serious, stoic expression most of the time, girls seemed to take interest in it. Gentle green eyes and soft, but spiky hair that gave his appearance a bit of an edge, what wasn’t to like about Iwaizumi? Nothing, really. But in comparison to Oikawa? Everything. 

Even with attractive physical traits, Hajime Iwaizumi wasn’t Toru Oikawa. In fact, he would never be on Toru Oikawa’s level. 

Hajime Iwaizumi was simply destined to be the runner-up. The second choice. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Oikawa let out a quiet hum, but kept his eyes up ahead when Iwaizumi glanced at him. “Nothing to apologize for, Iwa-chan. But cut the shit. It does matter. Y/N is a great girl... like, seriously. Nobody intimidates Kyoutani the way she does, not even you. She doesn’t even have to try,” Oikawa let out a loud laugh and Iwaizumi couldn’t help but shake his head and chuckle himself. 

“I do like her, don’t get me wrong,” the setter sighed, but the smile on his face never wavered. “But I think you love her.” Oikawa’s smile, now a smirk, widened when he noticed Iwaizumi’s ears beam pink with embarrassment. The taller boy reached out to poke one, but his hand was quickly swatted away by the blushing wing spiker. 

“You little shit, I-I’m just cold!” Iwaizumi grumbled and raised his scarf to cover a part of his red nose to avoid his best friend’s teasing gaze. He let out a stubborn sigh. 

“Who’s the little shit? I’m not the one who’s under six feet, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa snickered mockingly. The death glare Iwaizumi sent Oikawa’s direction was enough to silence the captain’s laughter. “Whatever. But I’m still gonna back off regardless.” Oikawa’s words only confused Iwaizumi, who questioned the taller boy. 

“But why? You like—“

“I like her, yeah. But it’s nothing serious, I’ll get over it in a few days,” Oikawa’s word choice immediately caused the ace’s eyes to narrow, but the setter held both hands up to his chest in surrender. “Don’t take it the wrong way! No, it’s not like that, I’m not an ass. I just really want to focus on volleyball for now, that’s all.” He reassured and grinned at his friend’s eyeroll. 

“Besides,” Oikawa added. “You two really would make a cute couple.”

A cute couple?

Iwaizumi let his friend’s words float in the air as they turned the corner to near his house that was further down the block, before allowing them to sink in. A comfortable silence was shared between the two until they finally made their way in front of the Iwaizumi household. The older of the two was at a loss for words, still too flustered and embarrassed from being read so easily, especially by Oikawa of all people. 

The fucking nerve. Iwaizumi bit the inside of his cheek. 

Nonetheless, he turned to face Oikawa, whose face showed genuine joy; joy for his best friend who finally developed interest in a person after avoiding romance for years up until now. Truthfully, Iwaizumi couldn’t be annoyed with that. He sheepishly placed his left hand behind his neck and took a breath before speaking. 

“Um. Thanks... for hearing me out. For understanding, too. I’m still really sorry though.” Iwaizumi’s sincere words were met with Oikawa’s annoyed groan. 

“Jesus, would you stop apologizing? Apologize one more time and I swear I’ll actually steal Y/N from— ow, I was just kidding!” Oikawa lifted his hand to rub the side of his left arm that Iwaizumi had punched with a frown on his face. The ace then made his way up his porch steps before turning over his shoulder to glance at his friend whose pain subsided, the boy now waving goodbye to Iwaizumi. 

“Make sure to tell me if Y/N texts you that she’s home, yeah?” Iwaizumi called out and opened his front door. 

“You got it, Iwa-chan! She’ll probably text you instead though.” 

“We’ll see. I doubt it though.”

When he entered his house, Iwaizumi quickly greeted his mother with a kiss on top of her head before making a beeline to his room. As soon as Iwaizumi put his belongings down on his desk, he heard his phone’s text tone go off in his pocket. 

Guess she texted Oikawa already, he thought and pulled out the device. 

When Iwaizumi’s eyes landed on his screen, he couldn’t stop his face from burning when he read the text notification. Without realizing it, he was smiling from ear to ear. 

Y/N: ‘Got home safe, like I promised I would. See you tomorrow, Iwa (๑❛ᴗ❛๑)’

[let-the-dream-begin]

Someday

In MOBY, Claire warns John about one Ezekial Richardson, who knows John's biggest secret. In this alternate ending story, Richardson reports John, and he is arrested.

Jamie plans a rescue and visits John in jail to give him the details, and Jamie must face his own demons and confront how John truly feels about him before it's too late.

All canon prior to the end of MOBY is still in place.

Read on AO3

Contains very vague references to BJR trauma and mild internalized homophobia.

February 1779

Jamie was living in a space between reality and memory. He’d seen the insides of quite enough prisons for one lifetime, prisons of all kinds, even since liberation from his longest stay to date. Yet something about this prison…maybe it was the stench, hitting him square in the face like a snapping branch on a tree, or maybe it was who it contained. Maybe it was the role reversal.

His former jailer in chains.

He’d become far more than that, and to think of him as such was beyond an insult. He was a friend, a very dear one. The sting of knowing he’d bedded Jamie’s wife had not left him; it festered under the surface like a wound bubbling just below the skin, waiting to burst.

And yet.

The keys in the jailer’s hand jangled, then clanked, and then the door was open. There were ten men in that particular cell, a significant distance between them and the man in question.

He looked like hell.

He was crumpled in the corner of the cell, hidden by shadow, but Jamie could still see the swelling in his face, dried blood. They’d beaten him senseless in there, and nobody had seen fit to stop it. He’d expected it, but the sight still made him sick to his stomach.

Men like John did not fare well in prison.

The jailer roughly seized John’s upper arm, and Jamie fought the instinct to finch when John winced in pain. He stumbled on his feet at first, and then he was walking forward, shoved every few feet. Jamie battled with his body once more, stifling the urge to seize John’s other arm and wrench him away from the jailer, drag him away himself, as gently as he could without raising suspicion. Instead, he followed the jailer into the small interrogation room.

“General Fraser of the Continental Army. I have strict orders from General Washington himself to interrogate one Lord John William Grey of His Majesty’s Army.”

The jailer did not see fit to let John sit in a chair; he shoved him into the hard ground with a sneer, and Jamie winced.

“The utmost discretion is necessary. He carries sensitive information that canna be overheard. Ye understand.”

“He’s all yours, General,” said the smarmy man. “Rest assured you can use any means necessary. He’s a dead man come sunup.”

“Aye. I thank ye.”

When the door was shut Jamie stepped forward and helped John to his feet.

“Christ, man,” he hissed under his breath, almost involuntary. Claire had wanted to come, had practically demanded it, but Jamie had firmly turned her down. In that very moment, Jamie regretted that. She could have helped him. He had another bloody eye, what looked to be a broken nose, and from the way he stood, several cracked ribs.

“Ye need Claire,” Jamie said, again entirely against his will. “I’ll have them fetch her.”

“No, Jamie. Don’t.”

Jamie led the man to one of the chairs.

“Ye’re in pain, John.”

John grimaced, and Jamie thought perhaps he was trying to smile. “That would be correct.”

“Then let me — ”

“It’s no worse than anything I’ve been dealt before,” he looked very pointedly at Jamie, and he almost — almost felt a rush of shame.

“At the very least, I’ll ask fer water. Clean yerself up.”

“If I go back there in better shape than I left,” John said, shifting in his chair and holding his side, “then they’ll just see to it that I’m bloodied again. And likely worse than they last left me.”

Heat colored Jamie’s cheeks, flaming rage. “I can have ye moved. I’ll fetch Claire, she’ll heal ye, then we’ll move ye to yer own cell. I’ll tell them that Washington wants ye unharmed until — ”

“How many times do you think you can use Washington to make orders before they ask for his written word?” John shook his head. “Don’t bother, Jamie. It isn’t worth it.”

“Those wounds, ye could…they could get infected,” he said with a curt nod. “Claire wouldna like that. Ye’ll get fevered and — ”

“And die?” John exhaled a short laugh. “I’m a dead man anyway.”

“No.” Jamie took three large strides to John’s chair, slapping a hand on the table. “Ye’re not. No’ if I have anything to say about it.”

John’s eyes glistened in a way that Jamie could see even through the swelling and the redness. “What’ll you do? Enact a daring rescue and abscond with me in the night?”

Jamie nodded. “Aye. I’ve already got the men willing.”

John was already shaking his head before Jamie finished. “You can’t do that.”

“Like hell I can’t.”

John gaped at him. “Do you know what I’m charged with?”

“Aye, of course I do.”

“Then you know what they’ll do to you if they know you’re behind this.”

Jamie only hesitated for a moment. “No. They’ve no proof.”

“They don’t need any, Jamie. Don't you see? It took one man’s word to sentence me to death. All they need is the slightest suspicion of something between us.”

“There’s nothing between us,” he growled.

“I am quite aware.”

Jamie blinked, his nostrils twitching. John’s tone was nowhere near accusatory, or self-pitying. He was stating a fact, a truth. Plain as anything.

“But that doesn’t matter,” he continued. “Men that break other men…men like me, out of jail…that doesn’t look good.”

Jamie remained frozen, hovering over John like a threat, his grip on the table tightening. He had nothing to say in rebuttal, nothing to undermine his argument. Because he was right. Jamie wanted to throw it back in his face, tell him he didn’t give a damn what anybody thought.

But he did.

The thought of anyone, anyone looking at him and thinking that…bile was already rising to his throat. His fingers itched to rub that spot on his torso, that shadow of a brand from all those years ago. If somebody looked at him thinking he was that way, it would be as if Claire had never removed that brand, and he ripped his shirt off and showed the world.

Showed the world that his manhood, his very self, was owned and wielded by another man.

Exhausted, Jamie finally moved, sitting down in the chair across the table from John with a heavy sigh, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I canna let ye die.”

John looked like he wanted to laugh, and Jamie wanted to hit him for it. “Why not?”

“What the devil d’ye mean by that?”

This time he did laugh, a short, barking sound, followed by a wince and a clutch at his side. “You mean to tell me you haven’t wanted to kill me since the very moment you found out?”

Jamie swallowed. “Aye, I wanted to kill ye. At times I still do.” He took off his tricorn and set it on the table, then smoothed back the hair atop his head with a sigh. “But I didna want ye dead.”

John blinked at him dumbly.

“The thought of it fills me wi’ rage. Ye ken that well enough.” Jamie’s voice was low and rough. “I’ve enough in me to kill ye wi’ my bare hands. But why should I want ye dead? Ye’re no threat to my marriage.”

It was the God’s honest truth. Jamie knew Claire better than he knew himself, and he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she was his and only his. And truthfully, if Jamie really dug into the depths of his heart, if Claire truly found happiness with another man, Jamie could never bring himself to kill him. He’d sooner cut out his own heart than cause her pain. If Claire left him, he’d rather kill himself than kill his rival. That would make it easier for both of them.

But it was not like that with John either.

And maybe that was why it enraged him so. There was no solution. There was no parting with Claire for her own happiness, no ending of his own suffering upon losing her. It had just happened, and he could not make sense of it.

We were both fucking you.

“No,” John said softly, interrupting Jamie’s train of thought. “I suppose I am not.”

“I canna say it more plainly. I’ll no’ let ye die. So,” Jamie said, sitting up straighter, “tonight, this is — ”

“Stop.”

“Shut up, man. Ye’re gonna — ”

“No, I am not.” His eyes flashed defiantly, enough to silence Jamie. “I won’t let you do this.”

“Why?” Jamie spat, his fists shaking the table. “Why is it that ye can just stand by and let them kill ye?”

“Because I would rather die than cause you any more pain.”

That froze Jamie.

Had he not just reasoned with himself that he would rather die than cause his wife pain? That was love. Making the ultimate sacrifice was for love.

What John…felt toward Jamie…

What Randall felt toward Jamie.

That was not love.

Vile, unnatural, inhuman, unbearable.

Not love.

And yet.

John wasn’t vile, inhuman, or unbearable. Even if his inclinations were unnatural…he was not a vile creature. In his blind rage in beating him senseless, Jamie had not been able to see that. But it was clear now.

But still, it could not be love. It didn’t make sense.

“Why?” Jamie found himself saying it before he could stop it.

This time, Jamie couldn’t tell if John was about to laugh or cry. His wrecked face combined with the stunned expression on his face would have been comical in any other situation.

“You…you know why.”

Jamie swallowed. “Do I?”

John shifted in his seat with a wince, clutching at another rib. “I refuse to have this conversation with you. I’m bloody enough as it is.”

“John.”

Jamie’s tone surprised even himself. John flicked his eyes to Jamie’s face, and Jamie wanted to wince at how bloody awful the man looked. Remembering that he’d left him in a similar state not too long ago was fully nauseating him now.

“Look, Jamie. I know you wouldn’t sentence me to death, but you don’t exactly…approve of me. I know it.”

Jamie’s jaw hardened. He wanted to correct him, wanted to be able to.

“As long as I’ve known you, you’ve thoroughly detested any reminders of…any of this. So please. Just…let it be.”

Jamie could have let it be. Perhaps he should have.

“If ye’re to let yourself die, I have to know.”

“Know what…?”

“Why me?”

John actually recoiled a bit in shock. His mouth gaped a bit, and then he wet his lips. “Let me ask you this, then. Why Claire?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why do you love Claire?”

There it was again. Love.

“That’s no’ what I — ”

“Answer me, Jamie. Why do you love Claire?”

Jamie hunched over the table again, clasping his hands on the surface. He could write novels detailing every single reason why she was perfect, every single thing he adored about her, every single time she had saved him, body and soul. He’d dictated all of this and more to Claire. But those things were for her. He would not betray that. And either way, it went beyond the physical reasons he loved and adored her. She fit with him like a limb, an organ, a heart. That he could not explain.

“It’s...bigger than me,” Jamie settled on. “The...the reason I get to love her is...not to be discerned on Earth. I just…do. The first time I saw her I just knew. I knew that she was made fer me. And every day since, the Lord has seen fit to prove me right.”

John nodded, his eyes gleaming. “Then you see? There’s no rhyme or reason to it.”

Jamie’s eyes narrowed. “To what?”

“To why.”

Jamie’s tongue flicked out thoughtfully, then disappeared just as quickly. “I dinna understand.”

“God…” John pinched the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. “You foolish, infuriating brute…” He took a deep breath, then put his hands on the table, looking at Jamie. “Please, don’t make me say it. I beg you. I can’t…” His voice caught in his throat. “I can’t bear it,” he finished weakly.

Jamie felt like he may be sick, and his heart was beating far too quickly. 

“Did you think all this time that I just…” John shook his head, his eyes watering. “Did you think that was all you were to me?”

“I…I dinna ken…”

“If that’s all you were to me I’d have taken you up on that…that offer at Helwater without a second thought.”

Jamie’s heart skipped a beat. He had hoped John had forgotten about that particularly humiliating moment.

“But I couldn’t…do that to you. Because you…” His voice caught again, and he swallowed thickly. “I couldn’t do it.”

Because he loved you.

Jamie tried to shove the thought away, to kick it to death inside of him and burn it and stamp on the ashes. But it would not go away.

“I…I ken ye’re a good man, John.”

John nodded, not meeting Jamie’s eye.

I ken ye’re not Randall, was what he left unsaid.

He did know; he’d known it for a while before, but it was solidified when John had refused the offer. He was some sort of exception to the rule in Jamie’s head, the rule that Randall had set in stone for him.

Then they’d parted, and Jamie didn’t have to go mad with questioning it anymore. What Jamie had before him were facts: Jamie had a son, Jamie could not care for that son, John loved Jamie, and so John would move Heaven and Earth to care for that son. There was nothing more to it than a cause and effect, problem and solution. Nothing to question, nothing demanding answers.

But then he was back, in Jamaica, and answers were demanded again.

He was back in the Carolina wilderness, and that obligation had grown into a beautiful love between father and son that Jamie marveled to see.

He was back, and back, and back…

And now this.

And the thought of fate never bringing them together again was terrifying.

Jamie did not want to lose him.

And that realization was equally as terrifying.

Jamie remembered something he’d tried to force himself to forget for years upon years, repressed so thoroughly that he’d never even told Claire.

Jamie had kissed him.

After John had said no, he would not covet his body, Jamie had still, freely and willingly, kissed him.

Why?

And then, very suddenly, that didn’t matter, because John was weeping. Jamie sat stone-still, something unnamable dropping into his gut. 

“Do you know that…” he said through his tears. “That they could remove the capital punishment, reduce my sentence to life in jail, if I…confess?”

“Confess? I thought they didna need proof?”

“No, I mean…before a jury…if I tell them that…that I did wrong, that I will change, if I beg for God’s forgiveness…” He took a stuttering breath that sounded painful. “If I tell them that they’re right.”

Jamie gaped. “What’re ye waiting for, man? Tell them!”

John looked thoroughly horrified.

“Look, John, I…I bear no judgement on how ye choose to live yer life. But if this can save ye…”

“You think I chose this?”

And for the first time, Jamie realized no, he had not.

“Why on Earth would I choose to be such an abomination?” It was clear to Jamie that John did not agree with the words he was saying; he was mocking those that labeled him as such, spitting it back in their faces. “Such a…a stain on society?”

Jamie swallowed. He had no answer.

“And I…I won’t ask for forgiveness. I refuse to ask forgiveness for something that is not wrong.”

“John…”

“If someone held a gun to your head and told you to swear before God that you did not love your wife with all your heart and soul, or else they would pull the trigger, could you do it? Could you stomach going on living having lied so thoroughly and terribly?”

Jamie’s wame twisted. He imagined, for just a moment, looking into Claire’s eyes and forsaking her, telling her he did not love her just to save his own hide, and he wanted to vomit. He couldn’t live with himself. He’d die of shame shortly after. He couldn’t look at her ever again.

And then, just as briefly, Jamie saw himself in the same situation, only looking in John’s eyes, and swearing that he never imagined kissing him again, that he hadn’t felt even the smallest twinge of disappointment when he’d turned him down.

“No,” Jamie said simply, quietly. “I couldna do it.”

And all of a sudden, he understood. He understood John so deeply, so painfully deeply, that he almost broke down and wept with him.

Instead, Jamie did something that he had threatened John’s life for doing many years ago.

He reached across the space between them, and he took John’s hand.

John stared at their joined hands, blinking several times, his mouth hanging open. Then he looked up at Jamie, his brow furrowed.

“Please, John,” Jamie begged, more fervently than he’d meant to. “Please let me help ye. Ye need not forsake who ye are in a court of law. But let me get ye out of here.” He blinked several times, feeling his eyes burning. “Please.”

John wet his lips, looked down at their hands again, then back up at Jamie. “Don’t do this.” Jamie felt him try to pull his hand away, but he faltered. “Don’t…don’t use…this…to try and get me to agree. That’s…that’s cruel, Jamie…”

“I’m not.” Jamie insisted, squeezing his hand. “I wouldna do that.”

“Then what…are you doing?”

“I’m trying to save the life of a friend that has saved mine and that of my family more times than I can count,” Jamie said. “Ye have to let me help ye, man. I canna live wi’ myself if I just let ye walk to the gallows.”

“And I cannot live with myself if we’re hung side by side because you tried to stop it.”

Jamie felt his face getting hot, flush with dread, terror, and horrible, piercing sadness.

Jamie knew John, and he also knew himself. If John wanted to die to spare Jamie, then he would. And Jamie could not betray that. It was not in his moral code to go against the wishes of a dying man.

But damn him if it didn’t hurt to his very core.

John covered Jamie’s hand with his other hand, squeezing. “Please, Jamie. Don’t force me to put you in danger. Please.”

Like a compass drawn to true north, Jamie found his other hand drawn to the rest of their three hands.

“I will promise ye.” Jamie’s voice was hoarse. “If ye truly wish it, then I willna interfere.”

“I truly wish it.”

Whatever final dash of hope remained left Jamie’s body like the removal of a knife. “Aye. Then I promise.”

John lifted their joined hands and fervently pressed his lips there, and Jamie expected the urge to pull away, to run, to curse…but it didn’t come.

All he felt was…aching. Such deep, utter, painful aching.

“Thank you,” John whispered into their hands, his eyes locked on Jamie’s. “Thank you.”

A long silence passed between them, and all that time, it never once occurred to Jamie to let go of John. John wept quietly all the while, trembling ever-so-slightly, and Jamie’s eyes burned with the need to cry. But he did not.

“Tell Willie for me…” John began, and he might as well have cut Jamie open and gutted him there. The lad would never forgive him. Either of them.

“Tell him I’m sorry.” John sniffled, blinking away more tears. “Tell him that I ordered you to say this; tell him to look to you for any guidance he needs. Tell him I trust you.” Jamie nodded solemnly, painfully aware of the blessing that John was bestowing upon him.

All those years ago, Jamie blessed John with his blood. And now, John was blessing Jamie with a piece of his heart to keep safe.

Their son.

“And tell him I love him,” John finished, his voice breaking on the last word. “That I’ll...I’ll always be his Papa.”

If Jamie had been in pain before, he was in agony now. How...how could he tell Willie?

Before Jamie could find the words to express this, to beg John to reconsider for Willie’s sake, John spoke again.

“You know, I…” John bit his lip, as if he wanted to take back even saying anything, but unable to stop the flood now that it had started. “When I had Hector…”

The lad he’d lost at Culloden. His “particular friend.”

“We thought we could change everything.” He laughed ruefully, sadly. “We thought we were the exception to everything. I was lucky I wasn’t executed then for openly weeping on his body. It must have been so terribly obvious and I…I didn’t care. I just…I just wanted to…live and…be happy…”

Jamie tried to imagine it, and then realized he didn’t have to. His heart had died that day, too. But the difference was Jamie had had his returned to him. John had not.

“I wasn’t fool enough to think I could have that a second time, no matter how much I…” He stopped himself, “cared for you.” He swallowed. “I’d grown up by then. Learned…the ways of the world.”

“Do you think…” John went on as if he wished he wouldn’t. “Can you…imagine a world where it’s different…?”

Jamie’s mind immediately went to Claire’s world, Brianna’s world. The future.

“I don’t…I can’t bear to die thinking that people will forever be executed for…loving.”

That word, that small but painfully significant word, die, landed like a blow to Jamie’s stomach, as if he’d forgotten.

He looked into John’s eyes, hardly recognizable through the swelling from hateful fists and tears of grief. Jamie could ease that burden for him. He could tell him what he knew of Claire’s world. He could tell him that someday, it would be different.

“Ye dinna have to,” Jamie whispered, leaning forward. “Because the world willna always be so.”

John’s brow furrowed. “You know this for a fact?” His voice was full of doubtful sarcasm.

“I do.” He leaned forward even further. “There isna time to explain the how, or the why, but Claire, she…she knows things. She…she can…see. She can see beyond our lifetimes, beyond our daughter’s lifetime, beyond our grandchildren’s lifetimes, beyond their grandchildren’s lifetimes.”

John’s eyes narrowed. “Your daughter has tried this on me before...as has your wife...”

Jamie shook his head, not having realized John had perhaps already heard the term time-traveler. “Listen to me, man. It’s true, all of it, everything they told ye. Claire, and Brianna, they have seen a world where…where women sit in university wi’ men, learning alongside them. A world where colored men and women havena been in chains fer generations, where they work and learn alongside anyone else, as equals. A world where…where people like you, men and women, will…stand at a great Stone Wall, and…and begin a revolution, much like our revolution here, a revolution to be…to be free to…live, and be happy, as you say.”

Jamie had recalled all his wife and daughter had said with as much clarity as he could.

“I don’t…” John shook his head. “I don’t understand…”

“Ye dinna have to,” Jamie said urgently. “Ye just…ye must ken the truth of what I tell ye. I wouldna lie to ye now, man. Everything I’ve told ye is true, all of it. When the world is…older, and wiser…life will be fairer.” He squeezed harder on John’s hands until he was sure they’d go numb. “I swear it.”

“Someday…” John said, his stare blank, his eyes glassy.

“Aye, John. Someday.”

——

By the time I had finished seeing to the abdominal pain of one of the other boarders at the inn, administered the proper treatment, and logged it all into my medical journal, only two hours had passed. With nothing else to do with myself while Jamie was gone, I tried reading, but my mind could not focus on the words in front of me. I could think of nothing but the state John must be in right now, whether or not Jamie’s plan would work. My thoughts raced over and over in my fevered brain until I couldn’t stand it any longer, and I took to pacing the room. When the door opened, with no warning of Jamie’s arrival, being that his feet never made any bloody noise, I had no conception of how much time had passed, how long I had spent pacing.

I stopped, and I watched with bated breath as Jamie shut the door behind him. I crossed my arms over my chest and tried to stop my trembling.

“Everything went well, then? You were able to see him? Tell him everything?”

And then Jamie turned around, and I felt something tear through my chest.

“What happened?” I rushed forward, my eyes raking over every inch of his face, my hands squeezing his shoulders. “Oh, God, is he already…? Did they…? Jamie, look at me! Talk to me!”

I resisted the urge to slap him across the face just before he sank to his knees at my feet, myself alone entirely unable to hold him up. I felt bile rise in my throat as I threw myself to the floor to meet him.

“Jamie…Jamie, what…?”

He was weeping, sobbing.

Completely bewildered, I said nothing more; I pulled him into my arms, pressing his head to my breast, and he threw his arms around my waist so forcefully it knocked the wind out of me. I rocked him wordlessly, without even thinking to do so, stroking his hair, kissing the crown of his head. I hadn’t seen him cry like this since he’d broken down at the sight of Brianna’s photograph, so to see him like this was incredibly jarring. It made me want to cry, even not knowing the reason why. 

He carried on, and I comforted him, pushing down everything in me that screamed to demand answers. When I found myself in such a state, Jamie never demanded anything more than I was ready to give, and I would return this, no matter how difficult it was for me.

Just when I thought I might suffocate from his hold around my middle, Jamie finally spoke, garbled and muffled into my dress. 

“He’s going tae hang.”

My throat would not produce sound for a moment. “But you…the plan…you told him…?”

“He doesna want to be saved.”

“What? Is he mad?”

“He willna put us in danger. He doesna want to be saved. He’s going tae hang…”

Jamie, my Jamie, my Highland warrior, my mighty general, sounded like a broken, shattered little boy. And before I could think to process why he was so shattered, I felt my own heart breaking. How could this be? How could John just resign himself to die?

He was going to die!

I thoroughly fell apart myself, the thought of John being torn from me just as I'd found myself a fond and true friend in him enough to break my heart.

The thought didn't occur to me until later, much later, around three in the morning, Jamie and I both wide awake in our bed at the inn, unable to sleep, knowing what awaited us at dawn. I was too distraught for my own loss, busied with crying and mourning preemptively, to entertain the thought that something had happened.

It did not make sense for Jamie to grieve John as deeply as he was. Not unless something had changed. When I asked, gentle as I could, while running my fingers through Jamie's curls, our foreheads pressed together, I watched more tears leak out of his eyes and onto the pillows beneath our heads.

“He loves me.”

I bit my tongue to stop myself from saying of course he does, looking at every inch of Jamie’s face to discern any other hint of where this was going. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks.

“Oh, Jamie...you never understood, did you…?”

He fell apart again, clinging to me for dear life, and I cried silently into his hair.

Jamie couldn’t bear the insinuation that John and I had had sex because John wanted to have sex with Jamie. Jamie couldn’t bear any insinuation about John’s desire for Jamie. His knee-jerk reaction to such things was similar to the shell-shock I’d seen during and right after the war in my own time, similar to Jamie’s own shell-shock after Wentworth.

So somehow, John’s love, the depth and purity of it, its enduring power, its sacredness, had entirely eluded Jamie, because he’d been too busy looking at it all completely wrong.

A million questions swirled in my mind and made their way to my tongue, but I swallowed them down. It would do no good. It would only serve to bring Jamie more pain. What had transpired belonged to John and Jamie alone, the same way what had transpired months ago belong to John and I alone.

“I told him,” Jamie began, and my stomach lurched, my mind jumping to a conclusion it had no right to reach.

“About yer future.”

Oh.

Why would he do that…?

“About the Stone Wall.”

My mind swam with confusion, and then when it clicked, my whole chest ached like it was on fire from within.

“I had to tell him…promise him that…someday…”

He couldn’t go on.

“I understand,” I whispered hoarsely. I fervently kissed his head, pressing him deeper into the crook of my neck.

Brianna had mentioned the Stonewall riots in passing one singular time in Jamie’s presence, and Jamie had looked between her and I skeptically, listening, but not contributing to the conversation. I hadn’t expected him to. He’d hummed thoughtfully once, and it was dropped, the topic of conversation shifting elsewhere. I hadn’t realized he’d retained enough to detail it to someone else.

I hadn’t realized…that he’d cared. Cared enough to remember.

I swallowed more tears, stifling a sob bubbling in my throbbing chest.

“I’m so sorry, Jamie.” He clung to me, still weeping. “I…I don’t…I don’t know what to say…”

It was true. I had no idea what John was to Jamie anymore, and perhaps I never would. And that didn’t bother me as much as I’d once thought it would.

“Just…” he said, inhaling slowly with a great shudder. “Tell me…tell me more…about someday.”

After pressing another kiss to his head, I did.

——

I used to believe

In the days I was naive

That I'd live to see

A day of justice dawn

 And though I will die

Long before that morning comes

I'll die while believing still

It will come when I am gone

 Someday

When we are wiser

When the world's older

When we have learned

I pray

Someday we may yet live

To live and let let live

 Someday

Life will be fairer

Need will be rarer

Greed will not pay

 Godspeed

This bright millennium

On it's way

Let it come someday

 When the world's older

When things have changed

 Someday

These dreams will all be real

Till then, we'll

Wish upon the moon

Change will come

One day

Someday

Soon

[a-la-la-llama]

The One Where Marinette Kicks Butt #7

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 8

  It was a normal day at work, Marinette helped Ivy tend to the plants. Said flowers complained about everything and no matter what, could never decide what music they wanted to listen to to help them grow! After the whole you are not safe without the kwami’s protection, Marinette had to stop Plagg from eating flowers he deemed were cheese. Tikki kept eyeing the aphids and would snack on them when no one was looking. Sass kept coiling his tail too tight around the stems. Nooroo wouldn’t stop drinking the nectars. Pollen was pollinating. Then lastly, Orikko was plucking the daisies petals off one by one. To sum it all up, it was a pretty normal day.

Closing was easy since they didn’t have any last minute orders for the next day. Once the doors were locked, Ivy waved her off and they went in different directions.

  They always closed at six-thirty and were out by seven o’clock. Gotham was beginning to change towards fall in late September, however, so the sun would start setting at seven instead of the usual eight to eight-thirty. Marinette lived fifteen minutes away and was a relatively small stature girl. She also had on her school uniform which meant everyone who saw her knew she was just a teenager. Do you see the problem yet? Can you guess what was bound to happen? Let’s set the scene, shall we!

  Marinette had noticed them when she was walking by and one of the two men brushed her with his shoulder. Even though he was the one to run into her Marinette swiftly apologised and went on her way. She was eight minutes from her apartment and turning a corner when she noticed that they were not far behind her.

The problem was that they had been going the opposite way beforehand. So she tried to do what a normal person without pocket gods would do in this situation. She didn’t want to lead them home so she stuck with the few crowds there, trying to lose them. But night was approaching, slowly fewer and fewer people were out.

Marinette considered going into a coffee shop that was open but what good would that do if they just waited for her to exit. It’s not like she could afford to have a phone and even then she only knew a few people in Gotham. She was just deciding on how to locate a police or fire station when she was yanked backwards by her arm. Into a gosh darn alleyway.

Seriously, if they have the highest crime rates, and most of them happened in alleys, why do they have so many alleyways! Especially dark and dead end ones like where Marinette was standing. A normal person would be terrified but Marinette wasn’t a normal girl, but she couldn’t let them know that. For all they knew, they just cornered   a helpless girl that was scared of the two men twice her size. When really they were the ones who fell into the trap of a powerful god wielding girl with no escape.

“Look who we finally caught, can’t run now.”, the blonde one taughted.

“She almost looks like a Wayne. If we could convince the boss, she’ll be worth a lot more than those other girls.”, the brunette one suggested.

Who was even a Wayne and why did she look like them? Was it the blue hair, she’d never seen others that had a natural blue like her besides her mom and Kagami. It must be her eyes, but lots of people could have blue eyes, especially in America. The blonde pulled a needle out of his pocket.

“Now just make this easy and stay still so we don’t have to hurt that pretty little face of yours!”, he sneered.

Kwami, what were these awful attempts of being intimidating? She’s seen chihuahuas do much better. Plagg’s destructive energy was pulsing through her backpack, along with everyone else but he was the strongest. Why did cats have to be so territorial, she would have to put an end to this before the magic got out of hand. None of them wanted another Pompeii, Atlantis, or Black Death on their hands. She allowed them to inch closer towards her as she started rambling nonsense in French. Better if they thought she didn’t know what was going on, they’re more likely to make arrogant mistakes. The blonde could tell she was overwhelmed and about to bolt so he quickly lunged at her, but she was faster. Next thing he knew, the needle meant for her neck was in his own as he fell unconscious.

Turning towards the brunette, he had pulled out a simple pocket knife. It wouldn’t do anything more than a flesh wound unless he hit a major artery or organ. She didn’t really want to fight the two just, you know, stop them from hurting her.

Taking off her backpack, she swung it by the strap and knocked the weapon out his hands. Tackling him was the next step and she used all of her body weight to keep him down long enough to slam the bag on his head. The egg shaped Kwami box felt like a load of brick. She should know, Marinette had dropped it on her toes multiple times! Just two hits and both her attackers were out cold.

Setting her bag back onto her bag, she stood up and straightened out her skirt. Good thing she didn’t tear any of her clothes or the two would have definitely woken up with black eyes. Marinette heard two feet gently land behind her at the entrance of the alley. Wouldn’t you know it, the blue-bird that Selina had told her about and decided to drop in. Of course, right after she finished dealing with the two herself!

“Je suis désolé de ce que je leur ai fait. Ils essayaient de me prendre mais je n'allais pas laisser ça arriver. Je dois y aller maintenant monsieur!”, she said, still playing the foreign card.

( I'm sorry about what I did to them. They were trying to take me but I wasn't going to let that happen. I must be going now sir! )

“C'est bien petite dame! Êtes-vous d'accord, vous ont-ils fait du mal?”, he answered. Marinette certainly didn’t expect him to know what she had said.

( It's alright little lady! Are you okay, did they hurt you? )

“Je vais bien. Je suis pressé, je dois y aller!”, she announced and rushed past him.

( I'm fine. I'm in a hurry, I have to go! )

  Nightwing looked at what the tiny French left behind. Foreigners sure knew how to get the job done. What was even in that backpack of hers. The dude would surely have a concussion, but in the end he deserved it for trying to kidnap the girl. Gothamites could surely learn a thing or two from people like her. Now the question was what to do with the criminals. He could turn them into the police or inform Red Hood about them. One had mentioned other girls, so Red Hood would be the better option. He could investigate and find the chain and most likely rescue those who weren’t so lucky and already caught. Plus, the man had a soft-spot for any and all kids.

  Nightwing thought back to the French girl. She really did look like a Wayne! Dark hair, blue eyes, seemed to have gotten herself in and out of trouble before. All she had to do was be an orphan and she’d fit the memo. The girl had a Gotham Academy uniform, maybe Damian knew her? Second thought, Damian probably didn’t talk to anybody in that darn school unless he had to, so that was out of the question. Something just wasn’t sitting right with him. He had seen her before but where? No, not her, those eyes. Nightwing had seen those eyes before.

He didn’t know how long he stood thinking in the alley but the realization hit him like a truck.

She was the freaking ghost that stole his favorite blanket!

Tag list

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[musecharm-writes]

Bad Influence, Pt 1 (Steve Harrington X Reader)

Summary: You wish you hadn’t stolen the cigarettes. You hadn’t gone into Melvald’s with the intention of stealing them -- you were going to buy them, you swear you were going to buy them. But you had realised after picking up the carton and reaching into your pocket to get your cash ready that you hadn’t brought any money with you. And, of course, you knew you should put them back and leave… But you’d run out two weeks ago, and you couldn’t deal with the cravings any longer, and there were only so many times you could sneak from your mom before she started to catch on.

(Note: There’s not much Steve/Reader interaction yet; this part is just to establish the plot. We get to the fun stuff in the next one.)

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

One would think that, on the most important day in a person’s entire life, something special would happen -- there’d be a rainbow complete with gold and a leprechaun, or stars would fall from the sky, or farm animals would spontaneously sprout wings and learn to fly. Steve Harrington wouldn’t know; the only special things that have ever happened to him were armageddon, the end of the world, and doomsday, in that order.

The day that Steve’s life was changed forever (without anyone having to face certain doom this time), nothing unusual happened at all.

Well, almost nothing. Then again, Steve supposes there’s something a little less than usual about you.

--

You’re being dragged out of Melvald’s by Hawkins’ finest when Steve first lays eyes on you.

Your hair is disheveled, your face is flushed, and there’s a wild look in your eyes. You’re writhing in the hold of the cops gripping your arms, probably to keep you from running.

Though he isn’t sure why, Steve can’t help but stare.

Robin comes up next to him, taking a sip from a thermos of coffee. “Ho-lee shit, what’s goin’ on over there?”

Steve shrugs, his eyes still fixed on you even as you’re being read your rights and fitted with handcuffs.

Coincidentally, as Callahan has you bend over the hood of his patrol car so he can frisk you while Powell slaps the cuffs on, your head is pressed to the hood so that you’re staring right in Steve’s direction. The two of you lock eyes for what feels like forever before you’re being jerked upright by your arm and manhandled into the backseat of the car.

Steve feels a sharp, elbow-shaped pain in his side.

“OW! What the-- Why did you do that?”

Robin smiles, clearly pleased with herself. “Because you were being weird. Plus, I said your name, like, a bajillion times and you either didn’t hear me or you were pretending.” She squints critically at him. “What’s your deal, Harrington?”

Steve shakes his head. “Nothing. Nothing’s my deal, I don’t have a deal. You’re the one with the deal, elbowing me in the ribcage like that, you could have done some serious damage to my… ribs.”

Robin doesn’t seem convinced -- not at all, actually -- but she apparently isn’t that invested in finding out what Steve’s “deal” is, because she just shrugs and says, “Whatever. Let’s go get breakfast or something, I could eat a horse.”

A few minutes later, they walk into Benny’s Burgers only to find Jonathan and Nancy sitting in the booth nearest to the door. Nancy spots Steve and waves.

Steve nudges Robin and cocks his head in their direction. “You in?”

She shrugs. “Sure. Jonathan’s cool.”

Steve snorts. “Behave yourself, Buckley.”

“We’ll see,” she replies cheerily.

As they sit down, Nancy says, “Hey, did you guys hear about the commotion at Melvald’s earlier today?”

Steve opens his mouth to reply, but before he can even finish inhaling, Robin answers with, “We didn’t, but why don’t you ask Stevie here what he ‘heard’ about the ‘commotion at Melvald’s?’”

Both Nancy and Jonathan turn their full attention to Steve, and he mentally curses Robin so hard he’s sure she can hear it, based on the shiteating grin on her face.

“...Steve?” Jonathan says gently.

Steve sighs in exasperation, the force of it puffing out his cheeks. He shrugs and lifts a hand, splaying his fingers. “I… Sort of. Saw…” He hesitates, looking between Jonathan and Nancy, seeing their expectant expressions. He sighs again and runs a hand through his hair. Out with it, man. “I saw somebody getting pulled out by Callahan and Powell, all right?”

Nancy’s brow furrows. “Who? Why? What happened?”

Steve shrugs. “Dunno. Whoever it was, they definitely had a couple screws loose.”

Nancy says nothing for a moment. Then, she says, “Jonathan, do you think your mom would know anything about it?”

“Maybe. We can ask her when we go back to the house.”

Robin cocks her head. “Why are you guys so interested in finding out about this, anyway?”

Nancy and Jonathan share a look and then after a moment they turn back to Robin and shrug in unison.

Soon enough, the waitress is coming to take their orders, and the conversation turns toward other things.

--

While Robin and Steve are chowing down on brunch, you’re sitting in the Hawkins Police Department, waiting to find out how hard they’re going to punish you.

You wish you hadn’t stolen the fucking cigarettes.

You hadn’t gone into Melvald’s with the intention of stealing them -- you were going to buy them, you swear you were going to buy them. But you had realised after picking up the carton and reaching into your pocket to get your cash ready that you hadn’t brought any money with you.

And, of course, you knew you should put them back and leave… But you’d run out two weeks ago, and you couldn’t deal with the cravings any longer, and there were only so many times you could sneak from your mom before she started to catch on. So you’d slipped the carton of cigarettes into your pocket and headed for the door.

And then the woman behind the counter shouted, “Hey!”

You’d just panicked and started running, and… well, here you are.

The Chief of Police stepped out of his office and called one of the cops who brought you in over. They talked in hushed tones for a moment, looking like they were having a disagreement, and then the other cop -- Callahan, you’re pretty sure, the one with the glasses -- comes back over and takes your cuffs off.

“Chief Hopper wants you in his office,” Callahan says blandly, gesturing toward the door the chief is standing in front of.

You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to quell your fear, and then you stand up and go to face your doom.

Chief Hopper doesn’t say anything to you as you pass him on the way into the office. His face is a careful mask of neutrality, which makes you even more nervous than if he’d been staring you down -- at least if he was doing that, you would know what to expect.

As you go in, the chief follows you in and closes the door behind you, which just cements the knowledge that whatever’s about to happen isn’t going to be fun for you.

“Have a seat,” he says, pointing at the chair on the other side of his desk as he walks around to the other side to sit in his own chair. You do as he says, watching as he pulls out a carton of cigarettes and clamps one between his teeth. He looks up at you and offers the carton out to you. “Want a smoke?”

You swallow. You wonder if this is some kind of weird test. “No thank you, sir.”

“You sure?” He asks, the carton still extended across the desk. “From what I hear you’re pretty fond of ‘em.”

You feel your face flushing with embarrassment. You stare down at your hands for a moment and then, sheepishly, take a single cigarette from the proffered carton.

He lights both of your cigarettes with a Zippo he pulls from his shirt pocket and watches you from under the brim of his hat as you take a drag and exhale smoke on a relieved sigh.

“So,” Chief Hopper begins, smoke escaping from his mouth, “my sources tell me you were stealing from Melvald’s General Store. A carton of cigarettes and nothing else. First time you’ve ever gotten into trouble. Know what that tells me?”

You swallow and then shake your head, bringing your cigarette to your lips again for another long, slow drag. If you’re about to be locked up and have your parents told on you, you wanna savour this cigarette, because it could well be your last for a while.

Chief Hopper continues to look at you for a moment, and then he leans back in his chair. “That tells me that you’re not what we in the business call a bad apple. I don’t wanna put that idea in your head, or anybody else’s, and you spend one night in jail, that’s what’s gonna happen. You get me?”

“I…” You knit your brows. “I’m… not sure I do, sir.”

Chief Hopper sighs through his nose, making smoke stream out through his nostrils. “I’m saying that I don’t want to put you through the ringer just ‘cause you’re a kid who made a dumb mistake.”

You blink. “Are you-- You’re saying you’re letting me off the hook?”

“Not quite,” he says. “You still committed a crime. Wouldn’t look good for me if you just got to walk away without any consequences. No, you’re not off the hook, but I talked to the owner of the store and got permission to come up with an alternative method of punishment. As long as you accept it, that is. We can always just let you do time anyway, if that’s what you want.”

You shake your head immediately. “I’d prefer not to, sir.”

He nods, satisfied. “Right. You’re gonna be working at Melvald’s for the next two weeks. You’ll be working alongside Joyce Byers, and she’s gonna keep an eye on you, so make sure you stay out of trouble, okay?”

You arch your brows. “I’ll be working at Melvald’s?” You wonder how the hell he managed to work that out with the owner.

“That’s what I said. Think of it as community service; can you handle it?”

“Yessir,” you say, nodding.

“All right then. At the end of each week, I’ll be coming in -- off the books -- to check in. As long as you do as you’re told and keep your head down, this’ll all blow over before you know it.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, and you try to blink them back before the chief notices and thinks you’re a huge crybaby. “Thank you, Chief Hopper.”

He stands up and leans over the desk, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “It’s no problem, kid. Just don’t make me regret it, all right?”

As you stand up, you nod again, suddenly determined. “I won’t, sir, I promise.”

His lips quirk up at one side. “Call me Hopper or Hop, kid. Nobody I like calls me sir.”

You smile hesitantly. “Yessir… Hopper.”

As Chief Hopper is walking you to the door, you can’t help but ask what you’ve been wondering for a while now. “Ch-- Er, Hopper?”

“Hm?”

“Why are you doing this for me?” You pick at the hem of your shirt nervously. “I mean, not that I’m not thankful, I’m incredibly thankful, I just... don’t understand why I’m not being punished?”

He’s silent for a moment, perhaps turning your question over in his head, and then after what feels like an eternity, he finally answers with, “When I was your age, I made some pretty dumb mistakes, too. I never had anybody willing to back me up, and I ended up doing a lot of shit I’m not proud of because there was nobody there to bail me out when I got into trouble. When I come across kids who need that, now that I’m an adult myself, I tend to wanna help ‘em out.”

You can’t help but feel awestruck. Chief Hopper is nothing like the stories you’ve heard; he’s so fair-minded, and kind, and selfless, it kind of makes you feel like crying again. You feel visible in a way that’s almost uncomfortable. 

You kind of wish you could feel this way all the time.

“Thank you,” you say again.

“No problem, kid,” Hopper says, opening the door to his office. “Now scram; you’ve got about eighteen hours until you show up for your first shift at Melvald’s, and if you’re more than fifteen minutes late I’ll have someone escort you there every morning for the rest of the week.”

As you leave the Hawkins Police Department, you feel lighter than you can remember feeling in a long time.