#that shit has to feel like straight up plastic if you never see his roots and he went from black to that bright of a red

[dark-elf-writes]

On a scale of 1-10 how crunchy do you think Kirishima’s hair is.

[woos-lil-oreo]

Love Scene

Pairing: Song Min Gi x Female! Reader

Word Count: approximately 3.1k words

Warnings: Slight Voyeurism???, Mentions of alcohol consumption, cursing/swearing, biting, spitting, Reader is a slight pillow princess, UNPROTECTED SEX (plastic wrap your peenie weenies), oral sex (fem receiving), fingering, slight use of pet names... I think that's it.

Author's Note: Most of this is a BIG self-indulgence XD and that Mingi gif always get me going... AnYwAyS, This fic is NSFW!!!! If you are uncomfy, do not read! If I miss anything, please tell me. If you wanna join the taglist, send me an ask and let me know. Don't steal... all that ✨ jazz ✨ music. Drink your water and enjoy my dirty lil harlots 😉

Taglist: @shusan @woowommy @ceopjy @joongsprincess @yunhofingers

Intro and Masterlist ✨

This is the happiest day of your life. You are dolled up in a beautiful snow-white dress decorated in speckled sequins and intricate rhinestone designs.

Your makeup is simple yet glamourous with a simple natural smoky eye with a shimmer in the inner corners. There is this aural glow of happiness around you, and you genuinely feel like a princess.

You are standing in front of your handsome fiancée with your hands holding each other, who is decked out in a simple black suit with a white dress shirt accented with a deep royal blue tie and shiny black Oxfords.

Hongjoong’s friend, Maddox, recites the point in the script where the vows would be repeated by you and your soon to be husband.

The vows. A spiritual binding of words that will connect the two of you until the end of eternity… or until you two get tired of each other, whichever comes first.

As you repeat after Maddox, Mingi’s eyes glisten with tears of joy. As much as he willed himself not to, one little miscreant of a tear dared to fall. You drop one of your hands to go wipe the tear stream off of his cheek.

The guests proceed to awe in adoration. Seonghwa fans his eyes to prevent his tears from falling, while Hongjoong is sporting a runny nose and a giant crocodile tear down his cheek, clinging to Seonghwa’s shoulder.

As you listen to Mingi recite his vows, tears start to well up in your eyes. You grip Mingi’s hand a little tighter to calm yourself because your makeup is beautifully done, and you’d be damned if you let a teardrop and a dried tear stain appear on your cheek. Jae-hee would have your ass. You got through the ceremony without tears!

“By the power vested in me, I pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” Maddox proclaims. You turn to Mingi, who now has one of the brightest smiles ever on his face, and he leaves a nice, sweet, lingering peck on your lips, still holding your hands.

“Oh, come on, you can do better than that!” Wooyoung screams out, earning himself a nice smack to the forehead from Yeosang. Wooyoung winces and rubs the spot while the guests laugh at their interaction and turn back to you when Mingi lets go of your hand and smirks.

Mingi pulls you to his chest, grabs you by the waist – pulling you close to him – and kisses you. As the kiss gets deeper, he places his hand on your cheek – steadying your head, and your hands work their way to the back of his head.

The crowd begins to root the two of you on, and Jae-hee screams out, “You guys are literally about to get a room!” You both pull away from each other and look at your husband. Mingi has a very thin layer of shimmer lip gloss on his mouth, and his cheeks and the tips of his ears are red.

A now very flustered and blushy boi Maddox quickly recollects himself from what he just witnessed and mutters, “They don’t pay me enough,” with a chuckle before he announces, loud and proud, “I-I now present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Song Min Gi!”

Everyone stands up from their seats and creates a round of applause as the newlywed couple leads the processional to the area where the wedding party, which is beautifully attired in soft peach pink dresses and deep royal sapphire blue accented suits, is to take pictures of one of the most important days you will never forget.

~25 minutes later~

The host has completed the introductions for the most chaotic wedding party that has ever existed, and everyone is getting to their seats in the venue.

The reception hall is absolutely stunning! The same colors of the wedding party are accented with gold. Diamonds are loosely scattered across the table, tealight candles alit floating in water vases, giving the room a soft glow in addition to the dimmed lighting.

The caterers are dressed in a clean white shirt, a black vest, and slacks. The guys have a royal blue sleeve garter, and the girls a soft peach one.

Once everyone has settled at their tables, Jae-hee and Yunho approach the front of the makeshift stage to make their toasts as Maid of Honor and Best Man.

Jae-hee grabs the microphone first, and she is already tearing up, and she is usually not one for emotion often. “Y/N, we have been friends for so long… we are practically sisters. I’ve watched you grow into a beautiful and confident woman… and even though I put you through some shit….” All of ATEEZ shakes their head and groan in agreement, and the rest of the guests laugh in response.

Jae-hee rolls her eyes and continues. “I’m so happy that you have found the love of your life and that I wasn’t the first to get married.” You roll your eyes and get up to hug her, and she meets you halfway. While in her embrace, she whispers, “I love you, baby girl,” and you respond with the same hushed tone, “I love you, too,” letting one measly tear run.

You two kiss each other’s cheek, and you return to your seat, and Jae-hee returns to the stage. She grabs Yunho’s handkerchief to dab away her tears before they fall through mascara. “Mingi, I officially welcome you into the messy integration that is our family.” Mingi chuckles and nods in response.

The mic is passed to Yunho. “Mingi, you have grown into an immaculate young man who is decorated with accomplishments and people who love you. I’m really proud of you, and I wish you two the best of luck. Y/N, I have watched you become each other’s yin and yang. You may be a bit of a handful,” you roll your eyes and chuckle. “… But we love you so much, and we welcome you into our quote – end quote ‘messy integration that is our family.’” Yunho walks over to give you a kiss on the cheek, and bro hugs Mingi.

“Cheers!” After an emotional toast from Hongjoong and Seonghwa, it was time for the party to begin, and I mean both aspects of the term. Which explains why you are now seated in a chair in the middle of the dance floor. Mingi is standing across from you with a slightly evil glint in his eye.

Hope You Do by Chris Brown blares through the speakers in the venue. You immediately cover your warm cheeks with your hands to conceal the blush and warmth there, knowing what is to come. Mingi starts to remove his suit jacket… and Yeosang, Yunho, and surprisingly, Jongho remove their coats as well.

As the trio wines and grinds on the floor behind the Groom, Mingi moves closer towards you to go and remove your garter.

When he reaches you, he does not even take the time to bunch up your dress and goes straight into hunting for the garter. His big hands rub around the top of your knees to find it.

When he does, he drops his hands to the floor to give himself leverage. He proceeds to leave a speckled trail of kisses up your leg and bites right below the garter, causing you to yelp in surprise and the crowd to holler out.

Mingi drags the garter down your leg to your ankle and removes it from your foot. At this point, there is a tension between you two that begs and pleads to be relieved.

Mingi stands to his feet, grabbing your hands to guide you straight up off the chair. You two make eye contact, and you can see the tension. “Alright young bachelorettes, come out to the floor and catch you a bouquet!” The host says in the mic, and all the women move to the floor, ready to start drinking, the actual after-party, and the real fun.

When all participants are on the floor, you pretend to throw the bouquet to keep them on edge. After a few false turns, you finally throw, and Jae-hee sprints to the front to catch it effortlessly.

“Yeahhh bitches, I’m next to get married!!!” She jumps up and down as you laugh and the other ladies leave the floor.

The host announces that it is the fellas’ turn to come out on the floor. It was not as many males as females, but there was a good amount present. Mingi played the same card as you: pretending to throw the garter until he did.

In an ironic twist of events, Jongho caught it on the top of his head like a flower crown. When he patted his head to confirm he sort of caught it, he made eye contact with Jae-hee.

They both quickly look away with a bright pink flush on their cheeks, which causes you and Mingi to laugh together. He wraps his arms across your shoulder blades and squeezes your shoulder. You look at him questioningly, and he nods to the door. You nod and grab his hand, running to the back door with your husband.

Seonghwa will have your ass for running out and leaving him and Hongjoong to clean up your mess, but that is a tomorrow problem, and you have more… pressing matters to deal with.

Mingi is flying down the street with you in the back seat to compensate room for your dress. As he tries to get to your home without getting a ticket, you untie his tie and proceed to rub down his chest, slow and meticulously popping one button after another.

Before you could decorate his neck in pretty little hickeys and love bites, the car jerks to a stop, and he power strides to your door and opens it. He grabs you in his arms bridal style out of the vehicle.

You were surprised at how easy he made that look, especially with all of the extra fluff on your dress. He carries you into the threshold with ease, kissing you as if his life depends on it.

When Mingi blindly finds your room, he puts you down on your feet, spins you around, and begins to unzip your dress. He kisses under your ear and down your neck as your dress pools around your feet. He breaks away to rest his forehead on yours.

“As much I would love to pound you into the mattress right now, I would like for our first time as a married couple to be gentle,” he breathes out. You nod your head, and he slowly turns you around to unclip the black strapless bra, allowing your breasts to drop.

He returns his mouth back to your neck and softly twists your nipple between his fingers, eliciting tingles to run all over your body. As good as the feeling was, you remove Mingi’s hand and spin around to face your husband. You walk backward until the back of your legs hit the mattress and lean back.

MIngi crawls on top of you and slowly kisses you. You can feel the passion and love through it, causing you to shiver. Mingi, once again, pulls away from you to drag your black lace panties down your legs. He throws them across the room and stands from the bed, peeling away the dress shirt you opened in the car.

The shirt drops to the floor, and he begins to unbuckle his belt, dropping it to the floor. The pants come next, along with the boxer briefs, and they pooled around his ankles. You bite your finger and lick your lips with lust-darkened eyes as you are being blessed with this private show.

Mingi returns to your V of your legs and brings your ankle to his mouth, leaving delicate kisses down the inner side of your leg until he reaches the inner thigh, where he leaves a bite – causing you to giggle and squirm a bit.

He lifts himself to where his penis grazes your labia. He rubs the tip along your slit and teases the tip inside of your core. “You ready, baby?” He sticks the reddened tip inside, just to pull it back out, and repeats this a couple times until you are a whining and moaning little mess. He finally pushes his dick past the tip and slowly moves into you, allowing you to feel every vein and ridge of his cock.

You moan in relief and very, very, VERY slight pain due to his girth, and Mingi doesn’t stop until he is at the hilt, meeting you pelvis to pelvis. He doesn’t move for a second, trying to collect himself before he busts in you from the tightness of your honey pot. You shiver as he pants in your neck, leaving goosebumps wherever his warm minty breath hits.

You grind your hips around, signaling that you have adjusted to his size, and he moans out at the action. He begins to pump inside very slowly in and out of you, with his brows scrunched and his bottom lip being bitten.

You hear the squelching noises from his slow pace. When you started getting louder, Mingi moves a bit faster, seeing that you are slowly reaching your orgasm, and frankly, so is he. “Baby, I love you so much,” he mutters like a mantra as he helps you both reach new heights.

You two have made love before, but never to this extent. After every mutter, your heart from knowing that this is the man you will spend the rest of your life with. You place your hand on the back of Mingi’s neck to kiss him, but before your lips could make contact, Mingi stops.

He licks the base of his thumb and places a firm pressure on your clitoris, and then kisses you, his tongue swirling around your own. You two are seeing specks of light under your eyelids from cumming so hard. It may not have been anything degrading, rough or intense in that sense. Still, it was absolutely beautiful joining souls with your lover.

~The Next Morning~

You wake up feeling floaty, like you are lying on a cloud. Your husband is asleep with his arm draped around your waist. As you face Mingi, his features are soft, and it looks like he is in bliss. You place your hand on his cheek and caress the apple.

When you are done admiring your husband, you carefully move his arm to his side to make breakfast. You are successful in not waking Mingi and hop out of bed, still naked from last night’s escapades. “Wow, it feels nice to say that,” you think as you grab your husband’s dress shirt and run to the bathroom to clean Mingi’s cum that has dripped down your leg.

~A few minutes later~

You are now in the kitchen, whipping up some waffle batter. The table is decorated with a nicely plated array of bacon and a bowl of freshly washed and cut fruit. You finish plugging in the waffle iron when your husband wraps his arms around your shoulders and spins you around.

He quickly lifts you on the counter. “Good morning, Mrs. Song.” He says huskily from his morning voice. You try to reply with a greeting, but Mingi catches the words in your mouth. Your lips are smashed together from Mingi’s fervency, and his long and slender fingers start to move down to your hole.

“Oh my goodness, babe. You’re so wet for me.” He teased. You moan out while he rubs your entrance, spreading your slick up and down. “You like this, don’t you?” He asks when he pushes a finger in, causing you to scream in response. “Those weren’t proper words, but I’ll take it.” He responds while adding another finger in and drastically changing his pace. You cry out due to the incredible speed. Mingi looks up at you.

Your head is tilted back, tiny pants coming from your mouth, and hands grabbing the counter as if to ground yourself. Mingi lets a drop of spit fall from his mouth and adds another finger to add more lubrication and bring you closer to climax.

You start to squirm on the counter, which is now soaked in your fluids, and whimper softly. A telltale sign that you are almost there; you just need that one little push. Mingi kneels down to be face to face with your cunt, and he stares at your dripping core as if he was hypnotized by how well you are taking his digits.

A loud moan from you knocks him out of his trance, and he adds one more finger and starts to apply suction on your button. A blinding white light flashes behind your eyelids, and a fuzzy warmth roams all over your body.

You breathe heavily from your high, and Mingi slows his speed, allowing you to ride out your orgasm. He slowly removes his fingers, causing you to whimper from overstimulation, and brings them to your mouth.

You immediately open your mouth to welcome in the appendages and begin to suck them as if your life depends on it. The spit dribbles from your mouth down your chin and along Mingi’s forearm. He gently pulls at your jaw to open your mouth and spits in your mouth.

“Swallow.” He growls, and you do not think twice about disobeying him. He returns to kiss you, mixing your natural taste with your juices and his tongue.

He pulls away, and your fucked out state is adorable: your eyes are dilated from here to Hell, saliva glistening your chin, your cheeks are heavily flushed, and your ass is drenched with your cum.

“If this is what I wake to every morning, I’m not complaining.” Mingi chuckles. “You didn’t even get to have breakfast yet.” You laughed. He looks with an eyebrow raised… “Oh, you meant actual food?” You nod your head.

“As long as I have you, I don’t think I’ll need anything else.” He cheesily says. “Yeah, sure, that’s not what your body will be saying.” You retaliate as you jump off the counter, cringing when you hear your butt peel off the corner from your juices.

Mingi laughs, grabs some paper towels to clean that. When he’s done, he washes his hands and proceeds to help you cook so you two can build the stamina to christen the rest of your home together. Well, christen is not the right word… more like fuck like rabbits until the morning light returns.

~~~~~

And there's the fic ✨ hope you enjoyed the read ✨ leave an ask and say hi or even follow me or reblog if you did

[dearest-kibble]

WELLL GANG IT TOOK FOR FUCKIN EVER BUT HEY HERE IT IS ABOUT 7,000 WORDS OF KAGEYAMA. THANK YOU ALL FOR STICKING WITH ME IT REALLY MEANS A LOT THAT Y’ALL WERE STILL HERE EVEN THOUGH I WAS TAKING FOREVER LIKE HOLY FUCK MAN I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO SO SO MUCH FOR THIS AND HOPE IT’S ALRIGHT!! 

tw: noncon dacryphilia breathplay(choking) kidnapping general shady-ness  very blink and you’ll miss religious symbolism. Abuse

“Don’t mess this up Kageyama.” You wake up in an old building, seven men stand above you, head to toe in suits. And you distinctly remember reading something someday, about how the yakuza always cover their body. And about how the yakuza have a hand in human trafficking.

“Damn Kageyama, we don’t do any of that Oikawa-Gumi shit here!” The Man who's speaking is shirtless and his hair is buzzed short. He’s got a red dragon winding up his stomach and a red koi on his sternum.

“So many women were brought to Oikawa I just thought-” The man - Kageyama you assume - has black hair and blue eyes. You think he’s staring at you.

“You thought? I find that hard to believe.” A guy with glasses (do yakuza wear glasses?) sniffs and turns his nose at Kageyama. “I thought you only thought about being Oyabun.”

“Shittykawa is a liar and you all know it!”

“Still more honorable than a guy who deserted his family and has a samurai tattoo!” A considerably smaller redhead speaks up with a defiant voice.

“They betrayed me!!” His attention (if it was on you, is not anymore.) shifts as Kageyama raises his voice, flails his hands a little and starts to pace.

“Kageyama, be quiet!” A man behind you talks. The man with blue eyes immediately stops talking, the man with glasses and blonde hair laughs.

“All of you shut up!” A louder voice bounces off the walls, all five men stop talking and look to the man behind you. He’s got brown hair, short, militant and an angry-looking scowl on his face. The man next to him has silver hair, but you don’t think it’s from age. A chorus of “sorry Oyabun” echoes through the room, large, dark and empty.

“Kageyama, you will not mess this up.” Intense coal eyes stare into blue.

“No Oyabun, I will not.”

“Good because she’s under your care.” You almost expect the man with brown hair to offer you a smile, it’s the silver haired one who does.

“What?!” You turn around quickly as the voice sounds much closer than you remember it being. “I’m-” The man takes a few seconds looking at his fingers. (His left pinky is a stub) Before continuing. “Oikawa never had me do anything like that. Girls just talked to me.”

“Girls talked to you!?” A newer person, short, standing next to the shirtless one - has an energetic voice. “Why’d you ever leave?”

“Because Oikawa treats his family like shit!” And like that, the talking erupts into furious voices trying to get a word in edgewise until once more, the two behind you speak up.

“Everyone shut up!”

Once again they all fall silent.

“Kageyama, get her where she needs to go. You know what to do right?”

“Yes Oyabun.”

“Good.” His gaze is away from you, glaring at someone else as silence splits the room.

“C’mon.” He makes a show of not looking at you when he gruffly gestures for you to move to his side. Try as you might to seem calm, your joints are cold and stiff as you march to his left.

“Don’t cause a fuss okay?” He sends a sharp glare your way.

“She’s terrified Kageyama, you don’t need to scare her more.” The man with silver hair looks at you more apologetically than you’d thought a yakuza could. But as his hands rest on his hips you can see the gun holstered on his side. You look away quickly after smiling quickly.

“Yeah! Be nicer to her!” Kageyama shrugs off what the redhead says and walks towards the singular door and opens it to walk through. It leads to an empty, grey hallway - chilled and complete with flickering light. About fifteen paces ahead, there's a flight of stairs with the much-needed railing that rusts and peels in the flickering, damp hallway. There's the faint sound of city pop coming from the top of the stairs, through a bleak door with peeling paint. There are no other places of entry or exit, simply the one large, looming, decrepit door at the top of steep steps. Still begrudgingly silent, Kageyama starts up the stairs, feet falling hard on each step like drops of a guillotine. You follow numbly after him. What other choice is there really? Go back to the room with so many others? Die in a hallway while muffled music plays from a door? Your legs ache by the time you stand near the door. It’s not a high climb. Kageyama opens the door and you expect to hear nails on a chalkboard but are greeted by the soft melody of plastic love and the smell of cigarettes. The beeps of slot machines punctuate loud cheers and disappointments around a roulette table, the thwap of cards hitting the table and laughter at a bar does little to distract from the fact that Kageyama who had barely looked at you before — (Was it on purpose?)  — was staring directly at you. Pressing a hand to your face, you feel a drop of wetness on your cheek. A tear. You wipe it quickly and Kageyama turns away slowly. Eyes lingering a second after he turns his head.

“You’re slow, move quicker!” You nod in his direction though he’s already moving ahead again. The casino is loud and boisterous and though you’re sure it’s actually an illegal gambling den, many well known wealthies sit around a roulette table with a man in a suit, typical of a yakuza.

“You want a drink?” You expect it to come from a sleazy, older man wearing an old baggy suit, not the man who’s been leading you through this mess of tables and smoke and glitz. It’s fine, there are so many people around you.

“Why are you offering me a drink?” He’s turned to face you, still not smiling but eyebrows slightly furrowed in confusion.

“O-Oikawa said to offer women drinks. I-” Oikawa? He might not be so bad. Still, a yakuza who didn’t run with the good kind any more so-

“No thanks.” The confusion displayed earlier on his face, deepens into a frown that forms on his lips and lines that appear in between his brows.

“What, why?” He’s actually confused somehow.

“I don’t know you, you’re a yakuza - you might drug my drink - the list could go on?”

“I'm not going to drug you" He sounds angry and mutters "Just trying to be nice, fuck." And you've stopped for only one moment but the sleazy men you thought would hound you start to crowd, either unknowing or uncaring that you are in the custody of organized crime.

"Pretty lady want a drink? Got a margarita with your name on it." It's unsurprisingly a man with cigarettes' smoke on his breath and intoxication in his step. You note he's already holding the drink in question.

"No thank you-" You begin to answer, in a politely exasperated tone that you think is quite amicable for someone whose arm is practically around your waist.

"Listen - she's with me, alright?" Kageyama doesn't stop there, despite that in your opinion, he should. "She's mine." The words send a pang of anxiety straight through your spine and into your brain before they reach your feet and as they itch to step away into a crowd, another man speaks up someone much less intoxicated, still - with a drink in hand.

"She in trouble with the Daichi-Gumi then?" They're much more informed. And Kageyama nods to the asker.

"Guess he's still got his Oikawa roots then, huh?" And that doesn't make any sense at all because he's nothing like the man you talked to and who gave you a handsome wink and made small conversation.

"Don't compare me to that bastard." And instead of the usual anger, you think it's a note of exhaustion in his voice. And the conversation ends right there, "mine" being a forgotten word in the mix of much more confusing sentences. It's relatively peaceful after that, the scowl on your captors face scaring many others away. You continue down the luxurious gambling hall and into much quieter corridors with soft sounds passing through doors as you walk down a carpeted hallway, well lit and warmer. Once again, Kageyama opens a door and walks through. For a long, fleeting, whirlwind of a moment, you are alone before remembering that if you walk out without Kageyama, you run the risk of having a yakuza family hunting for you. Hell, they'd hunt your family, you've heard about what they do to screamers. Twisted fingers, bloody stomachs and scarred backs - missing eyes if the they’re lucky. You step through the open door and into the room. It's low-lit, casting a pleasant glow on the furniture.

Kageyama is already sitting down on an expensive - looking sofa no —loveseat. He picks up a remote from the side armrest and turns on a TV installed into the wall. Loud moans and the sound of flesh on flesh boom from the speakers before he switches to the sounds of shoes squeaking as they run across a floor. He pulls a nail clipper from his pocket to trim already short fingernails. There's a large bed with lights hanging above it on one side of the room, a wardrobe - open - full of thin clothing you wouldn't be caught dead in outside of your house. There's a small table, a bottle of wine and two glasses on mahogany wood, next to a singular unlit candle. Though the sound is gone you can’t help but linger on the moans that came from the TV and how Kageyama has led you into a room with such a large bed and a shower that has no door and is only walled with glass. You forcibly relax your jaw just before you speak.

"I'm here to-" You gulp down air, trying not to look at the silk sheeted bed. "Pay a debt."

"Yeah dumbass, what else would you be here for?" If he doesn't bring up any other possibility, neither will you.

"How?" The way that he instantly looks at you, blue eyes ever intense when he speaks  makes your stomach flip unpleasantly. You know exactly how. He’s led you to this room, what else could he be expecting?

"Daichi put me in charge of you, you'll do what I say." Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

"I'm not going to do what you tell me. I'll work off my debt in this casino, but I'm not doing everything you tell me to do!” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. He blinks at you, brow once again furrowed in confusion. He puts his nail clippers down on the arm of his seat, and stands, taking off his jacket in the process. You knew it - you fucking knew it.

You shuffle backwards as quickly as possible, spine hitting the round doorknob.

You can’t go any further.

Kageyama creeps forwards, unbuttoning his shirt to reveal raging water delicately inked into the toned muscle of his right forearm, chrysanthemum petals drifting downstream from a skull at his shoulder. Down his left, where his elbow meets his forearm stands a samurai, maple leaves falling gently from the mouth of a black koi that flounders to appear just over the edge of his shoulder. On the front of his chest there is only a solitary demon - red and standing amongst black clouds which dig deep - over his nipples as the Oni stands on the cool blue with its fiery feet. He walks over to you, shirt off and tugging at his belt. With a decorated arm, he sets the white shirt on your head, careful not to touch you. What flees from your lips is a very audible sigh expressing your relief that he doesn’t seem to want to violate you.

“I’m going to take a shower. Put that away for me.” You don’t even attempt to retort as you quickly move it off your head and turn away from wherever Kageyama sounded like he was. You conveniently face towards the wardrobe and walking towards it, you notice all the clothing you had neglected to think about. Short schoolgirl uniforms, a pair of fluffy handcuffs, all sorts of exposing clothing that you think for the second time, you wouldn’t want to be caught dead in. You push sets of clothing aside to find an empty hanger, not finding one, you kneel down to check the bottom of the cabinet. You find a box full of something, flat squares that are easily torn, and one empty hanger with a leather suit that probably went on it beforehand. You instinctually turn at the sound of water hitting the tiled shower. He’s standing still, body naked through the glass and quickly you avert your eyes from him. The loud crash of falling water on the tile makes you turn, despite your knowledge of where it comes from. You can see Kageyama’s naked back through the clear glass, koi and cherry blossoms disappearing in rapidly forming fog that covers the rest of his body. Watching the glass fog with the softening sound of water on tile in the dim light of the room, a dry sob of relief releases from your throat. He isn’t going to do anything. It’s just one large scare tactic. With the realization that Kageyama is just going to unorthodox lengths to make sure you don’t run, your knees buckle and you crumple to the floor, back stable against the side of the wardrobe - and you let the tears fall.

Each bone, muscle and thought eases with the knowledge that this yakuza is just taking a shower. He’s still the good kind of yakuza - Oikawa taught him well. He just happens to be a little strange. While he showers, your face is bathed with your own free tears. Your hands cup your cheeks and you smile softly into your palms, feeling so much steadier as your breathing returns to its normal steady in and out. Picking yourself up from the carpeted floor and feeling you back crack you bring yourself in front of the TV watching as people toss a volleyball into the air. It’s awfully methodical as they toss it to each side over and over, you almost forget about the pitter-patter of water behind you. You don’t even notice as it stops and the man comes out to watch you watching the game. You barely hear the zipper on his pants - just dismissing it as some sound from the game. It’s not until he’s directly behind the couch and he asks you a question that you remember where you are.

“Where’d you put my shirt?” You turn and tilt your head to look at his dripping hair, wet pants and wetter jacket.

“It’s in the closet.”

“What?”

“It’s the only place to put a shirt.” He grumbles at your words but it’s not hostile.

“You have the bed, that’s where I normally put my stuff.” You glance at the bed again and then back to him.

“Who doesn’t use a closet?”

“Next time you’re going to put it on the bed. No point in using that shitty closet - can’t find anything in there,”

“Hopefully there won’t be a next time.” His eyes squint face lowering to yours. He blinks twice before his blues widen.

“Have you… been crying?” Your eyes must still be puffy red.

“No?” His nose is just a hairs’ width away from yours.

“You better not be lying. Lying to your Oyabun has serious consequences.” Abruptly he stands up. “And you’re mine now. You can’t lie to me.” His hair bobs as he nods and removes his dripping suit jacket. Once again the black koi  surfaces across the spanse of his muscular back.

“I’m…” You shouldn’t be asking, but he must mean this in some other way, right? “Yours?”

“Daichi told me to watch you,” He says dumbly. Well, If that’s all he means, it shouldn’t be bad. You’re going to ignore how his head turns slightly to look and that the lights that glint off his eyes menacingly. “You're part of the family now. My family” A slimy feeling crawls up your back at his words, not for the first time.

“What does that mean?”

“Talking back to your Oyabun has consequences.” It hangs over your head, his words and your next ones clashing in your mind before deciding on,

“Same can be said for thinking you’re Oyabun.” It’s a much less dangerous thing to say, now that you know you’re safe and he’s just a strange person.

“I will be Oyabun, and you’re part of my family. You already have to do what I say.” He’s scared you enough, he’s not going to do anything and you’re not even sure he can with patrons of the gambling den so near. You take a breath and steady yourself though you aren’t even nervous and without thinking-

“I’m not some part of your fucking yakuza family!” Your palm makes harsh contact on his cheek. He was just trying to scare you earlier. You turn aside as he stands still as a leaf in water. Clasping your hands together you wait trying not to think about the fact that you just slapped a yakuza. He turns slowly, wide eyes a lighter blue than you had originally thought.

“Do it again.” A large hand rubs at his red cheek. “Please?” Kageyama cocks his head to the side, hand still over his red cheek. You’re rooted to the ground, standing still, you're not going to move even if he said he wants you to hit him again.

“If you won’t do it, I will.” He removes his hand from his cheek, and makes a fist before stopping. “You had an open palm.” All four fingers of his left hand splay open as he inches towards you with confident steps. “It felt so nice to be touched by someone again.” Eyes like the Starry Night glare down while his face holds the least unsettling smile you’ve seen from him. You can’t do anything against a member of the yakuza, and the important thing about the yakuza floods back into your mind: the man with silver hair had a gun, why shouldn’t he?. You stand still as a statue, you will not flinch, you will not cry. He’s right in front of you, and you stare defiantly into his eyes as he stares right back. There is nothing to say and both of you are waiting for the first blow.

It lands.

Hard, right on your cheek and the sting is so much but so little compared to the gun that could’ve put a hole in your head. Your head is pushed to the side by force before you snap it back to look into his eyes.

“It doesn’t feel the same…” He mutters the words. “Maybe if you-”

“I’m not going to do anything you want me to.”

“Fine. I’ll try again.” And the hand connects with your cheek once again. If the first stung, the second was like a stab. Cold and sharp and the feeling staying much longer than you’d hope. Kageyama looks at you, whose face is still utterly defiant and pointed towards him. Though the red welt on your cheek is far more noticeable, he seems to be looking at your eyes.

“Shit.”  It’s a quiet utterance, but he sounds mildly put out. “It’s not gonna work unless you touch me.”

“No.”

“Either you touch me and I figure out why I get this weird pit around you. Or,” And he seems to have to think for a second about his phrasing. You think you hear a ‘can’t blow her brains out.’ “Or I give you to Oikawa.”

“Oikawa?” And you know this is a bad idea, you’re standing up to a Yakuza for fucks sake. “Oikawa just gets people to pay their protection tax. Hell, he’d clear my debt.”

“He’s the guy who has the top joint of my pinky, you don’t wanna be given to him, trust me.”

“Oikawa has a soft spot for women, he’d clear my debt and let me go.”

“He had me bring in any woman I found.” Oh. “A lot of them lived where he used to spend a lot of time. Called them prostitutes?” Oh no. “I think Oikawa would be happy to see you. Suga always says to try and make things better between our families.” He’s not going to get to you like this, you’ve seen Oikawa around - talked to him. The most harm he’d ever cause is when someone harassed a woman. Knowing this yakuza, he’s probably trying to scare you again.

“You’re lying. Oikawa helps women on the streets. I heard he even set up a safe house!” Oikawa would never do anything like what Kageyama said he would. He wouldn't!

“He called it a brothel.” He wouldn’t he wouldn’t. Oikawa always said to go to him if you needed help - he did.

“Oikawa wouldn’t do that! Not to me, not to anyone!” He wouldn’t he wouldn’t he wouldn’t.

“Shut up!” Deep unexplored, ocean blue eyes churn as the yell falls upon your ears..  

“Oikawa wouldn’t do that! He’s kind and he’s helpful!” You’re advancing so much closer to him, letting your guard fall.

“You’ll shut the fuck up if you know what’s good for you.” His hand is gathering in a fist again, skin straining against his rapidly whitening knuckles

“No I won’t! Because Oikawa would only ever take care of a woman and treat her much better! You’re making up blatant lies to ma-” The blow lands hard on your stomach, and you stumble back on shaky feet, tripping over themselves as you try to stay upright.

“He called your “Safehouse” a brothel. He kept women there, they smiled after enough time. I won’t fucking hesitate to give you to him too.” You fall over as he speaks, air being beat from your lungs as you fall flat on your back. Even while you’re gasping for breath he continues.

“The guys call it a horrible, shitty place and I don’t wanna send you to Oikawa, he’s a shitheel. But you’ve gotta fucking learn to listen - and Oikawa always made sure they did.” But Oikawa wouldn’t - he told you that you were safe with him and his people, that they were the good kind of yakuza.

“He’s not like that.” It sounds hollow to the both of you.

“Just listen to me dammit!” His large hand is tangled in your hair, threatening to beat your head into the floor. “I’m trying not to send-” The agonizing feeling of hairs being pulled from your scalp forces you to blink back tears. You yell at him again anyway.

“You just wanna see me as a prostitute!” And your voice doesn’t break but you can feel the tug of your vocal chords pulling on your eyes.

“Maybe.” It’s strange that his eyebrows furrow at your words but his grip on your hair tightens. “I wouldn’t have to threaten if you listen and touch me.”

“I shouldn’t have to if I don’t want to!” The wet tears that might’ve shed earlier are replaced with dry anger.

“It doesn’t matter what you want. Your Oyabun told you, that should be enough.” He yanks your head up by your hair, a few strands ripping right out of your scalp with a sharp pain. “Touch me.” The pain is splitting in your head, on your cheeks, in the breath that you're still trying to regain. “I said, touch me!” And he drops you. Weight held up by Kageyama comes crashing down onto the carpeted floor and you with it. He growls, sound deep in his throat as he makes another threat.

“Fuck, I’ll even give you to the Ushijimas’ to use as target practice if you aren’t obedient. How’d you like to be shot full of holes? That better than touching me?” The words come out in a harsh jumble, spilling from his mouth like a bitter wine. “Do it. Touch me before I stop being nice and kill you myself.” This time it's a kick to your back. “Then someone from your precious family will pay your debt.”  

“How do you-”

“I make it a point to know my future family members.”  He gives you an uncomfortable smile, mouth curling up as eyes don’t shift from their stoic glare. He steps even closer, hand rising once again to make you flinch but it doesn’t stop rising as he squeezes your neck harshly. “C’mon, get my hands off your neck! Pry me off of you!”

“N..” Air is fleeing your collapsing lungs, “O” It takes all the willpower in your body to fight against the muscles in your shoulders that want to lift your arm and the tendons that control your fingers to curl around his wrist and tug. Kageyama snarls as he frees your throat. His hands reach behind him and he must have a gun. He’s threatened to shoot. His hand moves so slowly, fingers curling around something behind his back. The black of his suit jacket reflects the all too bright light, cheers and beeps of the slots muffled by thick walls. The blunt pain throbbing in your face, on your stomach. The sharp intakes of breath sending stabs of pain to your lungs and the man with dark black hair and dark blue eyes keeps his hand behind his back, his left hand tugging on his suit jacket. He’s getting the gun, it’s in the back of his pants. You feel the familiar, cold prick of tears at the back of your eyes, that only intensifies as you he squats down and you flinch softly.

“C’mon,” His hand is still behind his back “Touch me.” You don’t want to die. You don’t want anyone to bear your debt. You suck in a deep breath, heavy weight forming in your chest as you reach out your hand towards his face. He inhales a tight breath, cheek twitching as your palm inches closer and closer. When just a finger finally grazes his cheek he flinches away from it and the weight inside you gets heavier. You didn’t do what he wanted. 

You fucked it up. 

You clamp your eyes shut. Slowly - what’ll he do if you move too quickly - you begin to drag your fingers from his cheek, rough with the smallest starts of stubble. He raises his hand with four fingers to keep yours on his cheek, trapping your palm against his clammy hand and rough chin. He exhales a shaky breath, his black-blue eyes closing and head nuzzling into your hand.

Softly feeding from the hand that bit.

“Thank you,” Your eyes are wide open as you stare at his features seeming so soft in comparison to his sharp, metallic anger. He murmurs softly into your palm. “It feels... nice when you touch me.” It’s such a stark contrast from the roaring, growling man threatening to force you into prostitution. The Kageyama who’s in front of you is smiling gently while his hand - though chilled and rough - is gentle against the back of your hand. It’s too much, one blink and tears start to fall. A hiccup erupts from your mouth which you shut as soon as he pokes an eye open. Whimpers based in the bottom of your sore throat start to strain against your closed mouth. His smile widens, growing into that uncomfortable smirk with lips stretched too thin.

“Fuck, you’re such a pretty crier, y’know that?” Kageyama groans the words staring at your face, still in the palm of your hand. “It makes me hard.” As if to emphasize his point, he jerks your hand downward, to the bulge in his suit pants.

“I - Kageyama I’m here to pay off a debt,”

“Yeah, you are.” He grinds his clothed hard-on into your palm. “You’re here to do whatever I tell you to. And I said-” The back of his hand brushes against your palm as it reaches to pull at the zipper of his pants. The grip around your wrist tightens as he drags your hand down. “Touch me.” and slowly your fingers curl around the length that was pulled from his pants.

“Good girl.” He snarls the words as his fingers ghost over your clothed sex, thin panties doing little to dull the strangely gentle caress of his four fingers. He pushes the fabric aside quickly and though you’re completely dry, shoves a finger into your tight cunny.

“Haven’t touched… anyone,” He groans as your hand stays deathly still on his cock. “Like this.” He thrusts his finger into you again. Beads of precum drip from his cock onto the back of your hand.

“Stop… please,” He smiles at your watery eyes. “It doesn’t feel good…” It feels like someone breaking your trust. How could you have trusted a yakuza?

“I’ll make it feel good.” He was going to leave you alone. He was going to leave you alone. A fat tear rolls down your face. Kageyama’s lips curl into another smirk as he pumps his fingers just a little faster.

“Is this what Oikawa meant when he said I’d have trouble ‘fingering’?” He says it to himself more than to you. “Cause I don’t think I’m having much trouble.” He wasn’t going to do anything. A small scream falls from your mouth as you think — you did this to yourself. You slapped him and now… Your hold on his cock tightens. You wish you could say it was in anger rather than for the sparks flying through your body. “Stop closing your eyes.” He huffs. “Makes it seem like you’re not enjoying it.”

You aren’t. You aren’t fucking enjoying it. The way he stares at you, leering at your misty eyes and dripping nose. The way he’s got his fingers stuffed inside you. The way he has your hand wrapped around his dick. It’s much easier to think this is some dream. To pretend your breath isn’t quickening or this is just some fucked up fantasy you’d never want to be real. But it is. And the gasp you let out when you feel your pussy clench - that’s real too.

“Sounds like you do. Feels like you do. Tightening around my fingers like that?” He chuckles darkly to himself before barking, “Dumb whore! Move your hand!” Immediately you release your grip on his cock.

“Not like that.” He glares at you and uses his free hand to grab your wrist once more. Harshly, he tugs it to his mouth and spits onto your palm. “Stroke my cock.” Once more, he shoves your hand down, saliva dripping from your palm to the couch and his bare legs. He hisses at the feeling of your hand, moans as you pump your fist. “Keep doing that.”  You nod, mouth parting to gasp only for tears to fall in.

“Holy shit.” His fingers curl inside you, his cock twitches harshly in your hand. His arms woven with ink, flex as his right hand curls into a fist slowly unclenching - rising. All too late, do you notice his fingers lacing themselves around your neck pushing you down, down into the cushions. You can still breathe, he’s not meaning to choke you yet. Your head is still, and that is enough, his face inching ever closer, blue eyes blown wide - mouth parting just so slightly. His face growing closer with each second that makes your brain tick with dread.

“So fuckin pretty….” He sighs quietly. “Bet your tears even taste good.” His mouth presses to yours. He wastes no time shoving his tongue inside. It’s sloppy - like you’d’ve expected, salty saliva spilling from the corners of your lips as he drags his long, rough fingers slowly from your cunt. You whine through spit and sob as the feeling of fullness is taken from you. (though you’ve felt empty this whole time) Your hips roll on their own, grazing against his knuckle. Your cunt weeps at one final touch before you're stuck humping nothing.

“You're wet enough right?” Breathless, he pulls away from your mouth, lips pink, swollen and parted, his cheeks flushed a dark shade of cherry. He looks from your eyes to his fingers to the hand around your neck. “You better be after all that crying. My pathetic little crybaby, so wet for my cock.”

You wish you could spit in his face, wish you could scream. But all that can escape your lips are soft moans, little whines at the loss of his fingers. “Please” dances on the tip of your tongue, pirouetting its way through your teeth and tapping at your lips.

“God…” His cock pokes at your entrance. “You’re so warm…” It’s hard to ignore as he presses in, pushing against your walls so firmly, warmth making your hips roll to meet his cock as it buries deeper inside you. Your hand had been moved a long time ago - or just recently, it’s hard to tell, hard to remember. Or have you already forgotten? Still coated in spit and precum, it rests on his chest, over one of his many tattoos, you slide it upwards to his shoulder. Watching as the spit leaves a trail over his body. Pretending like it’s just water. Your eyes gloss over the forced extravagance of your prison. The ceiling is in between - the sky. Some say heaven. And your sullied hand raises to pull for the sky. When was the last time you’d seen the moon. Surely only hours ago. A rough thrust and something loud echoes in the room. You can barely hear it over the dry crust on your hand. Reaching for the above as your beaten body is defiled. For a second you can feel it, the clouds of the sky.

The sky disappears too as you’re dragged back down to earth by long fingers that squeeze more harshly at your neck. Suddenly only the constricting of his fingers on your windpipe and your pussy on his fat cock are present in your mind. Pleasure and fear hazing together in your mind to create nothing more than blank sight in your eyes and sparks running from your legs to your brain. Your hands continue to tighten around his wrist, pulling harshly as he continues to squeeze and squeeze at your throat.

“You gonna cum?” He continues, picking up his pace and pushing you further into the sofa. You try to shake your head, despite the tightening in your stomach,

“No Kagey-” He looks up from where he’d been pounding into your sloppy cunt, cock shoved right against your cervix, throbbing hashly while he raises his other hand to give a harsh slap to your cheek.

“What do you call me?”

“O-o” You can barely breath and the cock inside of you is so hot. The stinging against your cheek feels so good in the fog of shallow breath and fullness that you can’t help but moan at - when he adjusts his angle and turns you around, pushing your face into the cushions and ass in the air.

“Oyabun,” You can’t help the way your voice breaks as you sob and Kageyama once again starts to move.

“Fuck I feel powerful when you cry.” If only every word didn’t make you wail even louder.

“That’s a good girl, keep crying.” You shove your face further into the cushions, tears soaking into the fabric.

“Please,” You don’t sound like yourself. You already sound broken and halfway gone. “Just cum.” Anything — fucking anything to just end this.

Kageyama just groans behind you as the nauseating pleasure continues. Balls slapping against your clit, friction building slowly as you moan through every thrust unable to keep from feeling every tiny twitch of his cock, every vein sliding against the walls of your cunt.

“Fuck fuck fuck! I want you—” He lets out a loud shaky breath as years of frustration paint your walls.

Breathing heavily with his hands planted firmly on your hips bruisingly tight, he holds you against him. Even fuller than before — with your womb filled with his cum. His hold on your hips releases so gently before he puts a hand on your ass, rubbing it softly, stopping occasionally to squeeze lightly at the flesh. You whimper softly, “Please, no more.” He ignores you, or perhaps he didn’t hear, coming off of his first orgasm. His hands find your hips once more, far gentler than before as he speaks with labored breath.

“Everyone better’ve heard you moaning.” Slowly he begins to pull out, inch after painful inch slowly exiting your sore cunt. He slaps you again, right on your ass. You’re too sore, too used to the point of breakage to cry at the pain (or is it pleasure?) “I’m your Oyabun, they better know that.” The zip of his pants coincides with the cheering for a point in the game that’s still playing. He sits next to your fucked out body on the sofa, and rubs one hand over the still sensitive part of your ass before quickly running his hand over your spine, shoulder blades and neck, settling in your hair. His fingers stay there, nails grazing gently against your scalp. His fingers linger for a minute before he pulls your body up and into his side, propping your head against his shoulder. You stare blankly ahead, eyes glazed with tears and cum dripping from your abused pussy onto the sofa. He wraps an arm around your shoulders and pulls you as close as he can, both of you breathing heavily. Kageyama seems to recover his breath quicker than you, as his slows and steadies — head falling against your crown with tiny, quiet snores coming from his chest. Half clothed, sore and exhausted you breath in the smell of the room, barely registering the feeling of cum dripping from your cunt. Hardly noticeable with the sound of snores and the feel of a body pressed against yours. Fat, raindropped tears roll down your cheeks. And instead of your wish to pull away, to leave this room — you cannot. What would happen to your family, to you? Would the man who beat you really let you pull away from him even in his sleep?

No.

So you settle into his side, raise a hand to rest over his tattoos and wait. Eyes wide open.

---

He wakes up about thirty minutes later - pats your head - dresses and runs out of the door without a word. You're too catatonic, still on the couch, still watching men play volleyball on the television. You watch him leave, tension held in your shoulders melting — unlike the candle on the table. Realistically, it's probably thirty minutes that he’s out of the room but it feels like only a few seconds. Time flies when you're having fun. He returns with a bottle of water and a bowl of something that smells wonderfully of spices and cooked pork. He sets both water and bowl on the glass coffee table. He’s gotten one spoon and he sits next to you on the sofa, pulling your legs onto his lap, jerkily giving a message to your thighs that only serves to renew tension in your body. He continues for a few seconds, delicate hands hardened with callouses knead into the flesh before abruptly stopping and leaning forward. He picks up the bowl and lifts the spoon, a small drop of liquid spills.

“I don’t know your favorite yet so I got you mine.” He waits, watching your lips tremble. Your jaw falls and even if you were to speak, you're not allowed to. He shoves the spoon in and waits for your mouth to close. He sits there for a minute. He’s staring at you again and instead of wiping a tear from your cheek, closes your mouth with a delicate touch. You begin to chew slowly, staring straight ahead of you. The sound of volleyball fills your ears and Kageyama doesn’t speak for ten whole minutes, only feeding you curry and closing your mouth when you cannot. It’s peaceful. Even as you're naked and Kageyama is shirtless again. He takes his time making you finish your meal. Only watching set after set of volleyball on the screen.

“You like volleyball?” The hand that has settled back onto your thigh rests softly - so different to the way he was beating you before - moves to where your neck meets your shoulder. “My grandfather was a coach.” One more bite and you’re done. “I think he was gonna teach me before he died.” The match on the screen ends, shifting to commentary and Kageyama opens the bottle of water. “Let me know what you like to eat, okay? I’ll make sure to get it next time.” He brings the bottle to your lips without any sudden movements and steady hands, and with his other he takes your chin and holds you in the most gentle grip you’ve ever felt. He rubs the bottom of your jaw line, easing your mouth open once more and presses his lips softly to your temple before tilting the water back.

“You’re such a pretty crier,” He pulls the bottle away and kisses the corner of your mouth, the slight stubble on his cheek grazing against your cheek. “When I’m Oyabun, I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of, okay?” He sets the plastic water bottle down and pushes your legs from his lap. He rises from the cushions only to sink between your thighs. “Just do what you’re told and I won’t have to do - this -” He presses two fingers onto the forming bruise at your stomach. “again.” He parts your sore legs. 

“So will you be my good little crybaby?”

[1oserjk]

— full stop | 02

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a series.

a messy divorce, unrequited feelings, and a five year old.

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.

01 ⇋ 03

x full stop masterlist | x masterlist

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full stop | 02: kim seol: the new girlfriend

“Here, again?” Jimin teases when your figure slips through the door and the greeting bell goes off. 

Your lips quirked up and you arch a brow. “Of course.” The bags are heavy, almost straining your fingers completely when you weakly attempt to set them on the front counter. The shorter man doesn’t even offer to help, only snickering from his spot behind it. “If I stopped doing this thing for you guys, you’d all starve,” you explain plainly. 

And Jimin knew for a fact, that you were right. Everybody around the shop absolutely sucked at remembering their proper eating times and would skip it for most of the missed opportunities when it’d be too late - solely for the fact that they were always so busy. Ever since you’ve been dropping off food for Jungkook during the time of being together, you’ve added Jimin and Taehyung onto the list whenever they’d whine and complain over the food they would forget to order and pick up themselves. 

Without you, they’d probably be cranky, tired, and a few pounds less. 

And you were greatly aware that even with all of the teasing Jimin and Taehyung had given you, they appreciated it a whole lot when you’d come in with bags full of take-out, especially when you’d continue to do so, even after the divorce. They’ve tried to let you down slowly, assuring you that they’d take care of themselves on their own to make it easier for you, but you shook their offer off and told them you’d be fine anyway. 

Taehyung had already sensed the food down the hall, barrelling through, trying to grab his share of it. 

You remembered the first time he told you his order, and ever since then, you hadn’t asked him for it again, already memorizing each of theirs and strolling through the shop within thirty minutes.

You poke at his rib when he fails to greet you, searching for the disposable chopsticks in the bags. 

“Hey, _____,” he mindlessly murmurs. 

“Make sure to get the extra box in there,” you point. “I got an extra serving of vegetables for all of you.”

They both whine, Taehyung practically throwing his head back in decline. 

You wave them off. “It’s take-out ninety percent of your days in here, at least get some nutrition in,” you request. 

He reluctantly takes it in the end, and beelines straight towards his den, kicking the door shut. 

You blink a few times before Jimin has to explain, “He’s been busy these days, a client wants a style he’s never done before.” 

“Oh,” you say, before you timidly suggest, “Jungkook can’t—?” 

He shrugs. “You know how his client list always looks.” 

You nod slowly. 

“He’ll pop up in Taehyung’s section sometimes and help him, but he’s been alone most days trying to figure his own shit out.” 

“I,” you timidly start, “Is he.. He’s eating, right?” You can’t help but grow weary, already knowing fully well when Jungkook would go on like this, enrapturing himself fully into the job, almost isolating himself and barely realizing the damage he’d do to his own body after not resting or eating properly on most days. He’d have to be reminded of these sorts of things. 

Jimin nods, catching onto your eyes that bounce back and forth towards his closed door. “Yeah. He’s actually been eating out most days..” He drags off, sheepishly tugging at the ends of his hair on his nape. 

Your brows shot up in full shock, before they turned a bit confused. “Oh,” you pause before asking, “Really? For what?” 

His mouth opens precautiously, avoiding your eyes and looking off to his own drawings, like the answer would be clearly written on the papers. “I—He’s been, you know-“ 

You don’t. Not until the door of your ex-husband’s open up, and he comes out — smiling, eyes crinkling in the corners, almost looking well-rested, dark rings under his eyes finally cured. It’s a pleasant surprise - to see him recovered enough to actually smile, and not the straining ones that almost hurt to do. A real one. 

It almost makes you want to smile back. 

You refrain from doing so when you see another figure come right beside him. 

Kim Seol, the receptionist for Golden Closet: Tattoos & Piercings, being way too close with the owner for only just being a mundane receptionist who guides clients and bookings. 

Just from a mere glimpse of them, his arm that was reached out to the back of her, most likely his fingers splayed across the small of it — that none of this was business. 

He doesn’t even notice you at first, too pleased by whatever the female had previously said before the door had opened up. 

Jimin lets out a few coughs and grunts, to get the younger’s attention and maybe a head-start warning. 

It’s Seol who finally realizes. “Oh, uh.” She nervously looks away immediately when she meets your gaze and shuffles herself some distance away from Jungkook. You watch carefully when the arm on her lower back falls slowly, and only turn your attention back to Jungkook when it lands softly to his side. 

His eyes grow surprised, almost widening before calmly letting it trace over your presence. “_____,” he calls. “Hey - I.. I didn’t know you were going to be visiting.” They both slowly head over, only the counter separating you from him, and in this situation — fortunately. 

You clear your throat and nod. “Uh, yeah.” The plastic bag full of his memorized order rustles behind your back, fingers tightening at the strands. “I’m actually about to leave - had to give something to Jimin first.” You muster up a tight lipped smile and nod over to the keys in his hand. “Were you guys about to head out?” You question with feigned curiosity. “To lunch?” 

Jimin winces. 

Seol speaks first when Jungkook fails to say anything at all, mouth only gaping and closing. “Yeah,” she confirms, looking up at the man beside her. “We actually were.” 

You smile again and step aside, a wide gap for them to cross over. “Don’t let me stop you.” 

Seol moves her feet, already the closest to the door. You don’t even bother turning to observe her. Jungkook though, he stays rooted in his spot. You both look expectantly at him, and it’s almost like there were contrasting sides to choose from, either explain himself to you - even if he wasn’t exactly obligated to, or leave, wondering how you felt about the clear insinuation between Seol and him. Especially when you’ve voiced your clear unsureness of the female since the beginning of her working for the shop. 

Out of all people, he chose to go out with one of your biggest insecurities and main problems that were rooted in your relationship from the past. 

You hear footsteps pat softly behind you until they are wearily close. Seol takes the keys from his hand and announces, “I’ll start the car for us.” 

Us.

You tongue the inside of your cheek, a habit you’ve grown from Jungkook when things become too complex to comprehend properly. The keys jingle in her hand with every step, almost ringing in your ear obnoxiously, until you hear the door being pushed open and the greeting bell going off again. You scoff quietly, like she’s taunting you and holding what you don’t have over your head, what she finally got a hold of when she was given the proper chance. Of course. 

You, Jungkook, and Jimin sit in absolute silence - save for the soft R&B in the background, courteous of Kim Taehyung who’s probably continuing to stuff his face with no clue on what’s going on outside of his office. 

Jimin pats his thighs and maneuvers himself away from the situation, chair rolling away when he pushes himself off of it. “I’m going to go and finish my food with Taehyung, because uh, he might need help.” He nods to himself. 

“You pierce, though,” Jungkook says flatly. 

He gets hit on the back and pinched on the elbow by the shorter man, an expression held over his face that had clearly read that he was definitely on his own for this particular situation, especially when it involved you. “If Taehyung wants me to draw a cat perched on top of a tree branch, I’ll fucking do it.” 

Jimin stealthily makes his exit and lets you bask in your own overwhelming thoughts and opinions. 

After a couple of minutes of planning on what Jungkook would exactly say to all of this, he takes a step forward, “_____,” he attempts. 

You raise a hand up and only smile - the only thing you could really do in this situation, only because: of fucking course you would land yourself in something like this. It’d be bound to happen sooner or later, though definitely not even close to being prepared for the former to happen this quickly, almost ramming into your chest until it burns and aches. 

You shake your head, taking one timid step back. “Don’t,” you order firmly. “At least, not right now.”

He falters. “Then, when?” 

You automatically feel like crying, to weep like a fucking schoolgirl for being played, but in no way, you were allowed to feel like this, not even close. It still doesn’t excuse how shitty you feel right now. When your eyes meet with his, they almost do, leaning more on just letting the surface wetten a bit before you’d get in your car and speed home to cry in your own privacy. But even then, you wouldn’t even be able to, not when you had Yeona who’d wonder why in the world her own mother was crying, not when she looked up to you, and definitely not when you made sure to keep her own happiness and this situation at bay. You have work, a multitude of chores to do, dinner to make, a lot of things to keep you busy from this. You had time to suppress all of these emotions that were close to bubbling and spilling over, making a big mess for you to clean up as a result. 

“When I’m ready to take what you give me.” 

Fortunately, he doesn’t stop you from exiting the shop. 

You hold the bag tightly to your chest, until you’ve reached the outside of the parking lot and a nearby trash can to dispose of it, extra servings of vegetables and all. 

-

Three days pass by, and it’s a friday night.

Usually, Jungkook would be elated to reach his shared apartment, opening a few bottles of beers and settling his feet on the coffee table Seokjin would forbid him from actually doing. 

But tonight, it’s different. 

Tonight is a date night. 

His plans were to take Seol to another restaurant he hasn’t tried before but claimed it was good enough, and fill in the hours of the evening to wine and long conversations. 

He had taken a long and drawn out pause over the course of a couple of years when it came to dating, but he figured he’d give it a try after finding out about Seol’s interest in him. She made it quite obvious when he had hired her, which should’ve been a red flag from the very start - since he was married during that exact time. But instead, he chose to ignore it and keep it professional for the time being until he found another person to take over. However, she quickly became part of the shop and he had never once thought about firing her again after that, even if he was aware of how bad the feeling sat within you when he would tell you about the new employee. 

It wasn’t out of a place of jealousy or insecurity, you simply knew the type of person she was. You knew that about a lot of people. You were always quick-witted and knew exactly who to be associated with and who would plainly waste your time. Seol was definitely one of those people that ended up on the odd end of the spectrum, where everybody thought nothing wrong of her, while you had a few silent urges to question her, and if you would actually voice out your opinion about her - they would all call you insecure and delusional. 

His intention was to never let you assume that he had gotten with Seol to pick a bone with you, or to plainly be a dick. He’d never. 

A few personal conversations started, things had happened, and the rest is only history. Granted, it had only been a few weeks spending time with her, but he liked it. He saw it as being lonely, and he thought there would be nothing wrong with that. 

Turns out, he’s absolutely wrong in every possible way.

“You’re fucked,” is all Jimin says. The chair he pulls up screeches against the floors of the building and Jungkook winces. 

“Yeah,” he ends up agreeing with before rhetorically asking, “You don’t think Seokjin has already said that?” Anxious fingers reach up to his hair and tugs, sighing out harshly with tightly shut eyes. As soon as he had informed his roommate over the phone about the situation, he was scolded and cursed at. 

The older shrugs. “I’m here to remind you.” 

“Fuck off,” he breathes with a glare. “I have to leave in twenty, anyway.” 

The other’s eyebrows knit together. “Where are you going?” 

“Some sushi restaurant with Seol,” he briefly explains. “It got good reviews on Yelp, so hopefully-“

“Whoa, wait,” Jimin stops him. “You’re going out again?” 

“It’s friday,” Jungkook tries to reason. 

Jimin scoffs. “Yeah, but it’s also been a few days since your ex-wife ran into your new thing.” 

“She’s not-“

“Doesn’t matter,” he says dismissively. “You didn’t call or text her to see if she was okay. Fuck, even a visit wouldn’t hurt.” 

“She still hasn’t given me the okay to contact her, what the fuck do you want me to do?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he repeats again. “She can’t keep guiding you through what hurts her and what doesn’t, you should know by now.” 

Jungkook slumps in his seat defeatedly, head thrown back and neck slightly sore from having to bend down for so long. He knew Jimin was right and that at some point, he’d have to face you. 

After a few elongated minutes of the thoughts that circled around his head, there was a soft knock to his door, and a small head peeking out from the corner of his vision. Seol smiles before widening the frame. 

Jimin sends her a polite smile before gently excusing himself and slipping out to head back to the front. 

“Hey,” she coaxes. “I thought we should head out since everything should be settling down by now. I’m pretty sure Jimin and Taehyung can handle the rest.” 

He slightly nods before sheepishly replying, “God, I’m sorry. I should have let you know beforehand..”

She shakes her head, walking up to him and placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong? You can tell me anything,” she assures. 

He sighs tiredly, “I don’t mean to cancel today—but I’ve been meaning to have dinner with my daughter this weekend.” 

“Oh,�� she perks. “Yeona can tag along, I don’t really mind-“

He brings a hand up. “No, I mean with her alone - back at the house.” 

“Oh.” It’s set in a completely different tone, almost in distaste. “Are you sure? I swear I won’t mind if she’s there with us-“

“Seol,” he warns. “I want to have dinner with Yeona but I'm not going to exclude her own mother in it - I need to have a talk with her, anyway.” 

It’s not exactly what Seol wants to hear, but she musters herself up a tense smile, nodding rapidly. “I get it,” she promises. “Then, maybe another day for us.” 

He nods, reiterating with a promise, “Another day for us.” 

An abrupt kiss is delivered on his cheek and her wide eyes stare back at him when she bends down, “Just — Call me, okay?” 

He obliges. 

-

Tonight was a movie night. 

Yeona’s favorite night of the week, because it’s the one time she gets to fully indulge in her favorite pair of pizza and whatever animated movie she was currently obsessed with. It was a perfectly curated time to bond for the both of you. 

“Life of Pets?” 

She nods frantically. For a while, it had been The Croods, but she had shifted her interest as soon as your streaming service added the movie to their collections. You were grateful that her obsession ended when the movie in the past included a selfless father that made you tear up every single time he’d throw the family to the other side without him. Instead, she watches an exuberant bunny run around with determination at anything he did. 

Sighing, you relax into the blankets and dig into the food presented in front of you. 

True to your word — you still haven’t cried. Being busy around the house and with Yeona made it so much easier to maneuver your thoughts elsewhere, somewhere safe and with a key for you to open later. To open it, though, was surely questionable at this point, you weren’t even sure if you would end up letting it take over you or to just push it away completely, for your own sake.  

When the pets are finally introduced on the screen, she grapples onto your arm and gushes, “They are so cute. Mommy, look!” 

“Yeah,” you agree with a tender smile, eyes landing on the bunny with furrowed brows. You point when he starts talking, “I like him.” 

She giggles and nods along with you. And after a few more minutes, she’s fully entranced by the movie, whispering for help a few times when she needed it for another piece of pizza on her paper plate. You wipe at her mouth when the sauce ends up landing all over it. 

“Good?” You ask, offering a thumbs-up.

She nods again with a smile, returning it. “Thank you, Mommy.” 

Half an hour into the movie, you go sleepy. Head pulling back, you can’t keep up with the doe eyes of Yeona who stares at the screen with the same exact excitement she started out with. 

Before you could even bury your face in one of the pillows and wait for Yeona to topple over you when she was ready for bed, the front door clicks and beeps, indicating that whoever was at the front, knew the code of your home. 

With squinted eyes, you look over to the door that opens with the last person you wanted to see. Tonight or ever. 

“Daddy!” 

Your breath hitches, chest tightening wearily while you stare back at your ex with anxious eyes that were definitely awake now. 

Yeona runs up to him before being swooped up and drowned in kisses. “Missed you.” She immediately goes in a fit full of giggles and wraps her tiny arms around his neck. 

Back hesitantly meeting the couch again as you attempt to relax and calm down, his direction shifts to the couch. 

He sets Yeona down in her previous spot next to you, only for her legs to wrap tightly around his waist to pull him down alongside her. Now, you’re all placed on the couch, Yeona set in the middle between the both of you. He hasn’t greeted nor acknowledged you yet, a pang of hurt flares through when he can’t even return your stare.

He scans the coffee table full of pizza and sugary drinks. “Is it movie night?” 

To his surprise, you answer. “Yeah. We finished the pizza, but the fried chicken is on the way,” you inform before asking, “Want some ramen to wait?” 

His mouth opens and he finally turns his full attention to you, your daughter still cuddled into his arms and her stubby fingers squeezing and playing with his jaw. “I—Yeah, it sounds good. Been hungry all day.” 

You hum and ask, abrupt bitterness sat on your tongue out before you can even stop it, “Didn’t go out to lunch today?” 

His eyes downcast and he awkwardly grunts out a cough before calling your name hesitantly. 

A second after, you suddenly stand and brush off the crumbs collecting between your thighs from Yeona knocking herself against your plate a few times in accident. Maybe tomorrow you would vacuum to add onto the list of distractions. “Great,” you say. “I’ll go boil some water.” 

“_____,” he tries again, but you’ve already stubbornly left and into the kitchen to grab the instant noodle packets you have stocked in your pantry.

Within the five minutes of your absence, he had successfully convinced Yeona to press resume on the movie and focus on the talking animals instead, with only the promise he would come back with a few sweets. 

You’re aware he’s close and near, but you continue to refuse, back turned fully to him. 

“Hey,” he breathes out. “Can we talk?” 

You don’t acknowledge his proposition, only rustling through the millions of brands you have in the corner of one shelf. “Start the water for me,” you order, pointing to the electric kettle on the counter behind him. 

His feet reluctantly move, fingers grabbing the handle and filling up the container with water. 

Holding up a familiar packet, you ask, “Do you still like this brand? Or did you want to go for another.” 

Whether it was a poke at his side, he doesn’t mention it. “That brand is fine.” 

You finally move beside him and open up the seals, carefully placing the flavor and vegetable packets aside. 

“I came here to apologize,” he says.

The only thing heard is the shallow dialogue from the movie and some of Yeona’s giggles. You were thankful that it filled in some of the blank spots in your mind and calmed you down enough to think about the next words you’d be saying to him. 

You shake your head, asking obliviously, “Why would you need to?” You were hurt. Of course, you were way too stubborn to admit it — absolutely willing to put up a hell of a fight before you’d be able to utter a confession like that. 

He leans on the counter for support, arms crossing and eyes leveling towards you, “I know you.” 

Your arms cross when you argue back, “And I know you, so what are you trying to say?”

He sighs, “I know you don’t like Seol.” 

You scoff. “Seol? You think my problem is with her?” 

“You’ve never liked her,” he exasperates. “And now that I’m going out with her-” 

You stop him immediately, fingers tightening around the paper cup on your left hand. “I’m not mad at her,” you quietly start. “In fact, she’d be the last person I would be mad at. Bitter? Sure, but I guess that’s on me.” 

“So, is it me? You’re mad at me..?” He immediately assumes. 

You blink a few times, fingers rubbing at the top of your temples, “No.” 

“No?”

“I’m.. Not mad,” you insist. “I think I understand enough that you would have to move on at some point.” You don’t bother to tell him you never expected it this early. There’d be no point, really. Frankly, you don’t think at any time you’d be able to properly prepare for any woman to be introduced to you as his new partner - temporary or marital, it didn’t matter. You’d still be immensely hurt in the end, regardless. 

“What about..” His throat tightens at saying this, “You?”

You shrug, staring to the side and hoping that the water would be done boiling soon. “I don’t think I’ll ever have time for any of that.” You shift back to him, mustering a smile that never reaches your eyes. “I’m okay with the way things are now.” 

He feels it. He cannot pinpoint it exactly, but it’s there - guilt and regret all bound to one. 

“I think I’m just scared,” you hesitantly admit. “Scared for the future. For the next woman that’d be introduced to Yeona. Who might spoil her more than I do and give her things that I can’t.” Your eyes direct themselves to his when he witnesses you beginning to bawl right in front of him. “I’m scared she’ll lose the vision and meaning behind the word Mom, and forget the way I care about her overall. I-I don’t want that.” 

For once, you want to be selfish and use your power to move away the attention of another woman who’d get to take care of your daughter from time to time, maybe even several within a short time span. For once, you want to keep your daughter to yourself as a mother. Nobody else. No other woman but you. 

His eyes soften and his hand raises itself, subconsciously towards the direction of your arm - to hold and to comfort. 

You turn away with a sharp intake of air. “It’s stupid.”

His head shakes rapidly. “_____..” 

It’s not, but you think it is, and it wasn’t like you had anybody to tell you otherwise. It was simply the way your mind had reeled in by its own misery and unsureness - no one to assure you. You nod, an action of understanding and realizing that you would never be able to get your way in all of this, not when it never was in the first place — look at your divorce. 

That in itself, hurts.

Setting the cup down, you suddenly decide and urge, “I’m not hungry anymore. The tip is on the table for the delivery guy. If you’re going to stay and put Yeona to bed, lock the front door when you leave.” 

“_____, wait,” he rushes. “That’s not—you’re not..” 

You don’t stop with your steps, already moving up the stairs.

It leaves Jungkook frantic, trying to decide whether running up the stairs to stop you would be the right thing to do at this very moment, or you’d be even more irritated with him than the overwhelming amount right now. 

In subtle yet poor timing, the flip of the kettle switches itself off. 

The water was hot. 

-

[11:18] won’t be dropping lunch off anymore :3 

[11:18] hope u understand. 

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.  

let me know ur thots, i’d like to know :]]

* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*. * .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.*｡･ﾟ✫*.* .✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.☆.  

[benhardypout-archive]

004. thank you, alex

a/n: so this is one of my Wonty "comfort fics" - so it's far from canon or never followed the original plot - which i would probably never publish (unless there's one i would like to share), but this time in this fic which i titled "Dirty Little Secret", I'm just going to post some chapters which I enjoyed writing. So the number is the chapter of this fic, and this is the chapter 4, hence, 004. Enjoy reading! 🙈

Perhaps, my crush on Monty was getting out of hand.

I flipped through the Liberty yearbook which Tyler lent me only to feast my eyes over the photos of the guy in Jersey no. 32 through the weekend, as I sat on the floor with my back against the bed.

Montgomery de la Cruz, I chanted in my head, reading his name printed in bold letters.

I stopped by a certain picture of his, running my fingers over the glossy paper, tracing his face. Tyler was lucky to have taken this rare shot of him smiling beautifully like this; those white teeth showing. He was leaning back and wearing a blue tank top. For once, he looked really happy…

I should probably ask Tyler the story behind this shot.

My phone rang a message.

I,  mindlessly, searched for it, not keeping my eyes away from the image. I could feel my heart expanding by this simple picture of him.

Bringing my phone to my face, there’s a  message from Alex: U free this afternoon?

Basically, I'm free for the whole day.

I typed a quick reply: Yes.

And not long after, Alex texted back asking us to meet up at this mall, only a five minute drive.

I wonder if this hang out thing meant anything or just platonic. Anyway, Alex seemed nice. I would love to get to know him more and perhaps get acquainted.

Looking back to the yearbook, I'm so tempted to cut the picture. Or maybe I could just ask Tyler just give me this specific yearbook, like a gift.

* * *

Alex took me bowling. And I'm not so good with the game but so far I'm having fun.

"You're so good at this," I said as Alex hit another strike.

He smiled. "Nah."

"Now, don't be modest on me," I chuckled lightly and took a bowling ball from the rack and positioned it on my hand, adjusting to its weight. Walking by the lane, I put on a stance and ran my tongue over my lower lip, aiming for a strike. Not that I'm expecting to hit one, which of course didn't happen. I looked at Alex, throwing my hands in defeat. "No, not good at this."

Alex went to hit next and of course, another strike. He raises both his arms dramatically and spun around facing me, smiling victoriously, cocking a brow.

"I give up!" I chuckled and sat down by the bench.

"You're named Winston for a reason," Alex commented, sitting beside me.

"What does that mean?"

"Winston, like Winner. Root word, win."

I laughed, throwing my head back a little. "Damn. I think I'm not doing my name justice, then."

"Practice makes perfect."

"Let's just eat. I'm starving."

"Sure."

We walked aimlessly along the mall in silence, with a few side comments about the boutiques or the shops we passed on. Then we saw and spotted some familiar faces. Well, Alex introduced me to some of them, simply pointing from afar and telling their names, since I barely knew anyone from Liberty yet, who also worked here.

Then my stomach decided to embarrass me and did a growl as we reached the food court.

“Someone’s whining,” Alex retorted.

“I know right.”

Since it’s the afternoon, there’s a lot of tables to choose from, not to mention, stalls without queues. A lot of options for us. But we just settled on some corn dogs.

"We should see some movie some time," Alex suggested. "How about tomorrow?"

"Oh, okay." I thought back if I had plans. Is looking at pictures of Monty in the yearbook counted as one?

He smiled and told me the time and rendezvous. And then added, "I-it's a date,"

I blinked. "A d-date?"

"I meant friendly date," he quickly clarified, faking a smile. I could see dejection in his eyes.

I wanted to apologize but perhaps I’m just overthinking the situation and putting meaning on how Alex was acting the past days. I may try to brush it off and act like I’m not noticing anything, but it’s there. Yet, he said so himself ‘friendly date’, maybe he really just meant us to be friendly.

"So you like someone else?" Alex asked after a moment which of course caught me off guard. I should’ve expected that question to come. I almost coughed my Coke out. Good thing, I had swallowed it down. My heart began to skip.

Should I tell him?

I avoided his gaze, and took another sip on my drink. "Uhm… yes," I said in a low voice.

"Oh…. right. Of course."

"Alex-"

"I-I'm just asking," Alex cut me off. Though, I’m afraid I’m already ruining this budding friendship and it’s the last thing I wanted. But, if he ever decides and calls off our little friendly movie date, I'd understand.

"I… Maybe I just need some company," he went on, resting his arms on the table as if for comfort. "And I… I actually like Zach," he glanced at me.

Zach. Oh. I know him.

"I kissed him," he murmured so low I almost didn’t catch it. Then he snorted, lightly. "But… of course he said he's straight."

"I'm sorry," I said in empathy. I wanted to reach for his hands but then decided against it. Then a scenario flashed in my head where I kissed Monty and then he said the same thing-- Ouch!

"It's all right. Thanks for going out with me, and listening." Alex interrupted, saving me from my disastrous thoughts.

I nodded. But then... he asked the question I’m shit scared to answer.

"May I ask who you like?"

Fuck...

I shifted on my seat. "Oh… uhm…It's..." I looked at him, warily. He was indifferent… yet. Wait till you hear this.

With a deep shaky breath I say, "Monty."

* * *

No words had been spoken since, besides the sensational "What the… fuck?" reaction from Alex who wavered before saying the word. And an awkward "Yep" from me, popping the 'p'.

We just went to our own cars and left after.

I'm sure Alex hated me now, or worse, despised me.

I knew it.

Maybe liking Monty would make you lose some friends-- lose some potential friends, rather. We're not even friends.

Was that what Monty meant when he said I got no friends here, as his own experience? Because people didn't like him?

I received a text from Alex later that night, apologizing from how he reacted. Which relieved me a hundred fold. And then he added…

Alex: But… Monty? I just can't believe it! And I think he's as straight as a ruler.

Winston: It's all right. Still a plastic ruler can be bent.

Alex: Correction. Wooden ruler. It just breaks in half, and he'll just break you.

Okay, I couldn't argue with that.

Winston: I guess. But could you keep a promise not to tell anyone?

Alex: Ok

Winston: Thanks.

Alex: So tomorrow. Same time. Same place. And move on from Monty. There's far better guys than that asshole.

Hope it's  that easy…

* * *

I'm glad that Alex didn't change towards me. He still smiled and spoke to me as if I didn't tell him something, which he found horrible.

After buying two movie tickets, we went to the snack bar to buy some popcorn.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me." I heard Alex mutter under his breath, causing me to turn and follow his gaze, only for my world to stop, seeing Monty by the entrance.

I forgot the ability to move until Alex nudged me. I blinked and turned to him. He has this amused smile.

"Seriously, Winston, close your fucking mouth. Some fly would literally rent in there."

I blushed, and sneaked another glance at Monty, longer than necessary, then to the other jocks he’s with. They’re standing by the ticket booth. I shifted closer to Alex and poked his side. "Zach's among them."

"I know. I hate it." Alex then stepped forward as it's our turn. "Two medium-sized popcorn please. Plain... And two cokes?" He told the guy behind the counter and turned to me.

"Coke," I confirmed.

And he went on ordering. But half of my attention was on the noise from the jocks. God… I couldn't believe I would see Monty here.

Oh, fuck.

I desperately searched for any mirror or any surface where I could see my reflection and fixed my hair as I saw them making their way towards us!!!

"Hi, Alex." Zach said beside me. I, discreetly, give Alex another nudge.

Alex barely glanced. "Hi."

"Zachy, I'm gonna have these Hot Tamales," Monty announced, tapping his fingers on the glass display counters, pointing over the Hot Tamales candy bars wrapped in red.

He caught my gaze and it was too late to retrieve my eyes back. So, I threw a soft smile at him, hoping I wasn’t too obvious about my loud attraction.

"Hey, Winston. You and Alex on a date?" he asked instead, and I swore I felt blood rush through my cheeks.

"N-no," I shook my head at once.

"What about you and Zach, Monty? You guys on a date?" Alex cuts in.

"Yeah. Actually it's the four of us, Scott and Charlie."

Scott and Charlie smiled and waved, making Alex roll his eyes.

Zach cleared his throat and looked at Alex. I guessed that maybe he wanted to speak to him… alone, so being a good friend as I am, I stepped aside and took the chance to stand beside Monty. But I made sure to be discreet and just tapped my fingers against the counter, my eyes fixated at the menu posted in front.

Zach whispered something to Alex and I could only catch a few words like 'mad' and 'me', giving me enough hint of what he's saying.

I tensed feeling Monty moved closer to me. "Never thought I'd see you here."

I blushed and glanced at him. "Yeah. Small world."

Then he asked me if we’re going to watch the same movie. A horror one.

“I think we should just sit together, then." Monty suggested, glancing over to Zach and Alex. "Especially, it looks like Zach and Alex have something to talk about."

I chuckled, "Sure." Would love to sit next to you.

"Winston," I heard Alex called and saw that our popcorn was ready. I took one last glance at Monty and uttered a "See you later," before making my way back to Alex.

"What did Zach tell you?" I whispered as we made our way inside the cinema.

"He wants to talk. I said yes."

I just hummed.

"Dammit, Winston. I still like him and I hate it," Alex whined a moment later, making me smile.

We took the seat in the middle section, since it's not too far and not too close, and we could watch properly. Different trailers were being shown and I noticed that there were only a few cinema-goers or maybe only few wanted to see this movie.

Later, I spotted Monty and the group inside looking for a seat, so I gave a secret wave at them, specifically, at Monty. He called his friends after he saw me. Then they made their way to us. I hid a smile. My heart wouldn't shut up about it, and it literally wanted to jump off my chest when Monty took the seat next to me.

Calm down, Winston. I’m afraid he could hear it from here, screaming his name.

Zach tried and asked Alex if he could sit beside him, only receiving a nod from Alex. But I could practically read his mind regretting taking the middle seats, when we could just take the space on either right or left wing, and have all the spaces on our own.

"Are you following me?" I heard Alex mumble to Zach.

"No. I… Monty pointed us here and…maybe I did, by deciding to sit next to you," Zach admitted.

I decided and just diverted my attention to Monty and his Hot Tamales. "Does that taste good?"

"You wanna taste?" He gestured one to my direction. I swallowed, not expecting his sudden offer. Or maybe it's because his shoulder brushed against mine.

"N-no. Thanks."

"Come on," Monty began tearing one package open and handed it to me, "Have some."

I glanced at him and reluctantly reached, staring intently at his hand, tempting to hold it.

"No, don't taste that." One of the jocks interrupted. I stopped. "You will get addicted," he added, grinning.

"Oh, fuck off, Charlie," Monty waved. "Come on. Gimme your hand."

"You're not trying to poison me, are you?" I tried to joke.

And I blushed seeing his boyish smile. "Oh no. It's a love potion," he winked.

Now that sent me. If I happen to be an ice, I've melted by now.

You don't need to give me any love potion, Monty. I wanted to say.

With a trembling hand, I held my palm out and he poured some on it. I uttered a thanks and put everything in my mouth, letting it melt in my tongue.

Charlie was right, it's kind of addicting.

"So?"

"I think I'm in love," I blurted, not breaking eye contact.

He looked away.

Oh no! Wrong move, Winston.

"I mean your friend's right. It's addicting."

He turned back to me and smiled. "I know right." He, then, handed me the Hot Tamales. “Here, have it.”

It would be a shame to take his offer down, so I just took it, our fingers brushing; enough to send electricity down my body. I wondered if he felt it too.

Wishful thinking, Winston.

"Why are you taking Monty's food? It might be contaminated," Alex whispered.

I shrugged him off and offered it to him. "You should try."

"No thanks."

I couldn't help but find Alex's distaste towards Monty, funny. Even though I shouldn't. But I'm afraid I might continue teasing him about it.

The movie finally started. And it's supposed to be scary as it's a horror film. But I'm not a bit scared. However, I'm tempted to hold Monty's hand that was on the armrest between us. But more tempted to pull the armrest up and just lean onto him. Maybe act scared?

As he took his hand away to get some popcorn - since I decided to share my popcorn with him and his friends, who I now know the names of: Charlie and Scott - I, sneakily, placed my hand on the armrest in hopes to be held by him.

Sadly, after he took a handful of popcorn he didn't put his hand back, but my hand stayed where it was. And I just forgot all my attempts on flirting.

"Holy shit!" he exclaimed.

And I tensed not because the scene was scary but because his hand, finally, landed on mine. I hid a smile. And when I thought he would notice and take it away, he didn't, and just stayed there. Though, I wasn't sure if he was ever aware of our hands, or he's too focused on the movie to even notice.

My heart pounded so loud, I could barely hear the show, and could hardly concentrate on it, blocking everything around me but only his presence. I’m only aware of the warmth and the weight of his hand on mine, making my throat dry. I just dreamt of kissing him, or simply lean on him, and embrace more of his scent.

Ugh! Shut it, Winston. Try and hold yourself together.

But how, when he’s close like this? Needless to say, his hand on mine?

The movie just ended without me really understanding everything that happened.

Monty made some comments about it, asking me some of it as soon as we got out to the lobby. I just nodded along, agreeing with everything he said. But Charlie argued with him and they went on, leaving me completely clueless, even though we all watched it together. I should've tried and focused on the show, so I could have a proper conversation with him. But until now, the heat of his hand pricked on my skin.

"Winston," Alex called, and began to walk. I hesitated and followed him outside, not giving me the chance to say goodbye to Monty and his friends.

"Are you alright on your own?" he asked

I frowned, blinking once. "Y-yeah."

"I need to go with Zach," he glanced at Zach, who’s busy chatting or probably saying parting words with his buddies, and rolled his eyes back to me. "Said he wants to talk."

"Oh. Sure."

"Again, beware of Monty. Don't be fooled by his good looks."

"So, you admit he looks good."

Alex stammered but soon gave up, sighing. "Whatever Winston. Don't say, I didn't warn you."

"Okay. Have fun with Zach." I gave his shoulder a pat. "And thanks for inviting me. I really had fun," I smiled.

Alex had to roll his eyes again. "I think I know why."

[guswaters]

Bash

Paramedics arrive on scene after Kurt’s assault in Bash.

Canon fill-in fic for 5x15 Bash from the point of view of paramedics who attend Kurt after his assault.

Warning for: Discussions of gay bashing, mention of blood, description of medical procedures.

Read on AO3

James and Lisa were an hour into their night shift, the ambulance parked up on Bushwick Avenue. They sat in comfortable silence, watching the buzz of activity around them: families out walking, cabs blaring their horns, and groups of friends dressed up for an evening out in the city. They were in for a busy night.

“Did I tell you?” James asked. “I think Paul is planning something for our anniversary.”

“Go on.” Lisa said.

“Well, I’m just speculating. But he keeps asking me really specific questions about my rota. Like, he never pays this much attention to my shifts.”

“A vacation?” Lisa suggested.

James grinned. “Maybe.”

“Oh, you lucky fucker.” Lisa said, batting James playfully on the arm. “I consider it a win if my husband remembers our anniversary.” She rolled her eyes. James chuckled.

“Do you think - “ But James’ question was cut off by their radio alarming with a call.

“Here we go.” Lisa said, starting the ignition. “What we got, captain?”

“20 year old male. Unconscious, bleeding.” James read. “Just a couple of blocks away.”

“Oh, shit.”

Lisa turned on the blue lights and pushed their way onto the busy avenue.

***

They pulled up on scene - an alley in a less favorable neighbourhood of Bushwick. Stepping out onto the sidewalk they were met with the smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and blood. The patient, a young male, was on the floor in the recovery position. He was lying in a pool of blood, staining his coat and hair a deep red. A middle-aged woman stood by him, a look of immediate relief on her face on seeing the ambulance arrive.

“Hey. What’s your name?” He said to the woman, whilst crouching down by the motionless boy on the floor. He grabbed his wrist to feel for his pulse, which was strong.

“Andrea.”

“Hi Andrea. I’m James and that’s Lisa.” He said, gesturing towards where Lisa was still grabbing equipment from the back of the ambulance. “What’s happened tonight?”

“I have no clue. I was walking over to meet a friend and I heard shouting. Didn’t think anything of it - not at this time of night.” Andrea said. “Walked by the alley, and he was just lying here. Is he gonna be okay?”

“We’re going to look after him.” James reassured.

The patient looked to be in his late teens or early twenties, and had multiple wounds to the head and face. “Looks like an assault. Did you see anyone?” James asked.

“No. He was on his own.”

“Lisa, can you get the cops running please?” James called to his crew mate.

“On it.” Lisa called back.

James squeezed the boy’s shoulder. No response. “Hello? Hello? It’s the ambulance service. Can you hear me? Can you open your eyes?” Trapezius squeeze. No response. “Let’s get some vitals going.” James said to Lisa, now approaching carrying their equipment. “I’ll try and get some more history.” James stood up to speak to Andrea, leaving Lisa to take over.

“Hi sweetie. My name's Lisa. I’m just going to do your blood pressure and a few other checks.” She said. “I’m going to have to cut your jacket and shirt to get to your arm, I’m sorry.” She deftly got the patient hooked up to the LifePak and took his temperature and blood sugar reading. Shining her pen torch to check his pupils, she could see the extent of the wounds and swelling on his face. “Oh, you poor thing.”

“I’m gonna look for some ID.” James said, crouching back down beside her. He rooted through the patient’s pockets looking for a bank card, driving license, student card, anything that might identify him. He found his iPhone in his coat pocket. Unlocking it, the home screen was a photo of the patient with another boy about his age. They were standing close, their cheeks pressed together. His boyfriend, he realised.

James felt a sickening feeling washing over him. He and Lisa had attended two incidents of gay bashing this month alone. Was this boy another victim of such a crime?

“Okay?” Lisa asked. James often joked that Lisa had a fifth sense for what he was feeling; a product of having spent so much time working together. He was so grateful to have a crew mate who looked out for him, especially with some of their recent jobs hitting extremely close to home.

“Yeah. Yeah.” James said. Emotions aside, they had a job to do. He put the phone back in his coat, and continued searching. In the patient’s pants pocket he found his wallet, and pulled out a bank card. “Ah. Kurt Hummel.” He read out to Lisa. “Nothing with date of birth though.”

“Kurt. Kurt? Can you hear me?” Lisa said, squeezing the boy’s shoulder again. No response.

“How are vitals looking?” James turned the LifePak to inspect the numbers on the screen.

“Vitals look okay, but I’ve got him at GCS 3.” Lisa said. “Pupils equal, size 3, a bit sluggish.”

“Okay. Let’s just get a neck collar on him and get him loaded.”

***

Once on the ambulance, Lisa and James were dancing around the patient reconnecting him to the LifePak, getting his wounds cleaned and dressed, and warming him up with plenty of blankets. Police had arrived and were outside taking details from Andrea and photographing the scene.

“I think I’ll give him a dose of Ondansetron, just in case he starts vomiting on route. Can you pass me a cannulation pack please?” James asked, and Lisa fished in the drawer for the small plastic packet, handing it to her crew mate. James tied the tourniquet around the boy’s bicep. He was clearly very fit and healthy and James had no trouble finding a vein.

“I’ll try a green please.” Lisa passed him the needle. He prepped the skin and easily inserted the cannula.

“Flush. And your Ondansetron for when you’re ready.” Lisa said, passing over the two filled syringes. “Ampoule is in the bowl.”

“Thanks.”

“Need anything else?” Lisa asked.

“No, let’s just get going.” James flushed the cannula, before inserting the smaller syringe to start administering the drug. He looked up at his crew mate, teasing. “Nice smooth blue light drive please.”

“For you, always.” Lisa smiled. “See ya there.”

She slammed the door, and James heard her talking briefly to the cops outside. He pulled out his phone, and dialled the familiar number.

A doctor with a heavy accent answered the phone. “Hello, ER.”

“Hi, please can I pass a pre-alert?”

***

Kurt remained stable on the journey, so James took the opportunity to write some paperwork before they arrived at the hospital. He tapped away on his tablet whilst keeping a close eye on his vitals on the LifePak screen. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

“Blaine.” It was just a mumble - it could barely be heard over the sound of the engine and the sirens.

“Kurt? Kurt, can you hear me?” James said, leaning forward to squeeze his shoulder. Kurt responded by opening his eyes.

“Blaine?” He said. “Where’s Blaine?”

“My name is James. You’re in the ambulance.” Kurt eyes darted around, taking in his surroundings.

“Are you in pain?” James asked. No response.

“Do you feel sick?” He asked. No response.

“I need to see Blaine.” Kurt whimpered. He was getting distressed - reaching up to tug at the neck collar and the straps securing him to the stretcher.

“It’s okay, Kurt. Just try and stay still.” He said, holding his right arm steady so he wouldn’t pull the cannula out.

“My head.” Kurt groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I know, buddy.” James took his hand. “We’re almost at the hospital.”

***

An elderly woman who had fallen in the park later, and James and Lisa were back at the hospital. After handing over, they had some time before clearing for their next call, and James wanted to check up on Kurt. He scanned the ER board to locate him.

Approaching the window of his room, he saw that Kurt wasn’t alone. A boy was lying on the bed with him, his arm draped over his chest and his face buried in his neck. The boy from his phone home screen, James realised. James tapped lightly on the door and the boy startled, sitting up. He was petite with dark, slicked back hair and an outfit straight out of a Brooks Brothers catalogue. He looked physically and emotionally exhausted.

“Sorry to disturb.” James said, stepping into the small room. “I’m the paramedic who brought him in, and I just wondered how he was doing.”

“I’m Blaine. I’m his fiancé.” The boy said, standing up to shake his hand.

“James.”

“Uh, he’s fractured his eye socket and has lots of bruising, but his scans were clear.” Blaine said. “No…uh, no bleed.”

“He’s very lucky.”

“Yeah. He is.” Blaine smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Do you know what -"

“He was protecting someone. Apparently a gay guy was being beaten up and Kurt just ran in.” Blaine shook his head. “Why would he do that? Put himself in so much danger.”

“Wouldn’t you have done the same? I know I would.”

“I just wish I had been there to protect him, to stop him getting hurt. I should have been there.” Blaine broke down then; his face falling into his hands, his body shaking with his sobs.

“Hey no, you can’t think like that.” James moved closer to the boy, placing a comforting hand around his shoulder. “You don’t think my husband worries sick every time I’m out at work? That I don’t think about him constantly when he’s out alone? But if we stop going out and living our lives - they win.”

“I just thought being in New York that we were getting away from this kind of thing. That we’d be safe.” Blaine sobbed.

“I know. We always think the big city will be perfect and easy for us. That’s what makes this so scary. But, and look at me Blaine.” James said, his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Blaine looked up at him, sniffing. “Hearts and minds are changing everyday. You think when I met my husband that I ever though we would be able to get married? Things will get better, Blaine. I promise.”

Blaine gave him a watery smile. “Thank you. And thank you so much for looking after him.”

“No problem.” James said. “I hope he makes a good recovery.”

Kurt stirred in his sleep, mumbling. Blaine was back by his side immediately, gripping his hand tightly. “Kurt? I’m right here baby.”

Blaine looked at Kurt with a tenderness that felt almost private. James took his cue to leave, slipping out of the room. Before walking away, he looked back through the window at the couple; Blaine was lying pressed up against Kurt on the bed, their hands entwined. They would be okay, James thought.

***

James climbed into the drivers seat of the ambulance.

“How was he doing?” Lisa asked.

“No serious damage, just a small fracture and bruising.” James said. “His fiancé was pretty shaken up.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” James gave her a reassuring smile. “Just, it sucks. I never thought I’d see these sort of crimes happening in New York of all places.”

“It’s awful.” Lisa shook her head. “Hey. If you ever need to talk about it - you know where I am.”

“I know. Thanks.” James smiled.

“Now, come on.” Lisa said, handing him the keys. “We probably have time to hit up Starbucks before clearing up. I’ll buy.”

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining; Emotional H/C

Chapter 2/?

-

Lila gets the damn plan B pill, reads through the package slip to check for side-effects, regrets doing that instantly, because she doesn’t actually have a choice and she already knows she’s going to get every goddamn one of them, and then sits down in a café close by the chemists, orders a coffee and a tall glass of water, and then ends up swallowing the pill dry because she just wants to get it over with.

She of course doesn’t get every single one of the side effects but she does feel quite nauseated by the evening and, yeah, she also gets the abdominal pains and the headache. So she takes herself to bed early with the lights turned off in her room and the curtains drawn, but of course she can’t sleep and instead her thoughts keep drifting back to Diego.

She hardly knows the guy and yet she apparently can’t keep her hands off him. Sure, he’s hot. Like… really hot… Tall, built, handsome, maybe a little dangerous with his scars.

Lila rolls onto her back to stop herself from rolling her eyes, because she knows that’s going to make the headache worse. She’s never been this cliché, falling for someone just because he’s a smoke show. And maybe a bit because he’s kind of cute and a bit too cocky at the same time, and yet he’s let her take the lead every step of the way.

Hold on, fallen for him? She hasn’t fallen for him, that would be preposterous, she hardly knows the guy!

Lila’s thoughts keep circling back and forth like that until she’s interrupted by the sound of Diego arriving into the flat and then she can see light filtering in through the crack underneath her door.

She listens for a while as he moves about the place. Then his footsteps approach her room and she sits up in her bed. Diego must be standing outside her door, she realises by the way he’s blocking the light, but he doesn’t knock or do anything else, and after a very long moment he moves away and Lila lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding and lies back down after the light outside her room is turned off.

-

It’s not until the next evening that they actually end up bumping into each other.

Lila didn’t manage to drag herself out of bed till long after Diego must have left for work so mercifully she had the place to herself for most of the day.

By late afternoon she’s mostly only dealing with an ongoing headache and a pretty bad loss of appetite.

So not having eaten anything all day, she’s just in the process of smashing some banana onto two plain slices of toast – both a real comfort food and also something that’s easy on her still slightly weak stomach – when she hears Diego’s keys rattle in the front door and Lila steels herself and decides she’s going to talk to him whether he’ll try to chicken out again or not.

It seems he won’t, because without any detour, Diego arrives at the kitchen door only a few seconds later, still wearing his boots, she notes, and Lila watches out of the corner of her eye without looking up from where she’s still crushing half a banana with her fork, as Diego stops without actually walking into the room, and then just stands there, staring at her, nervously fidgeting with his hands.

She’s not sure why, she doesn’t know him well enough for that, but the action immediately puts her on edge. She doesn’t know what she actually wants him to say or feel right now, but she’s certain she doesn’t want for him to feel ashamed or embarrassed about their night together.

Diego clears his throat and says, “Uh, hey…” but trails off then.

“Hi,” Lila says a bit tersely, the pain in her head already increasing with the anticipation of what is promising to be a stupid conversation. If this is how he’s starting, Lila knows exactly where this is going. How does she always end up with these people who, the minute she shows a bit of interest, cool off on her completely? It’s not like she’s been developing feelings, or some nonsense like that, but she’s annoyed that apparently she won’t get the chance to even explore the potential here. Or at the very least get laid like that a bit more.

“Can I… can I talk to you?” Diego asks uncertainly, clearly recognising the funk he’s found her in.

“You’re already talking to me.” Lila points out, knowing full well it’s a shitty way to respond, but if he’s here to tell her he’s not interested in her, she doesn’t see why she should be all polite about it.

Diego’s eyebrows draw together in irritation at that but he’s apparently trying to be civil because he relaxes his features with a sigh and says evenly, “About last night. It’s just, we shouldn’t– I shouldn’t have…” but Lila, half in annoyance and half because she almost feels a bit sorry for him and finds this waffling painful to listen to, interrupts Diego to say, “It’s fine. I took care of it. Took a pill and everything. You don’t have to worry that you knocked me up, or whatever.”

She punctuates that last statement by laying a second slice of toast on top of her half banana sandwich and squishes it down fiercely.

“Uhm… ok…” Diego says, his eyes going a bit wide, Lila notes as she looks back up at him and he’s giving off the very palpable impression that he’d rather be anywhere else right now.

“I… uh… I don’t really know how much that sort of thing costs, but I can give you money for it.” he adds clearly trying to sound helpful.

“Oh please,” Lila says and scoffs, “I can pay for my own bloody morning after pill!”

“That’s not what I…” Diego starts, irritation now clearly audible in his voice, but Lila waves a hand and says dismissively “Whatever. Was there anything else?”

He crosses his arms over his chest. It looks like he’s trying to reign in his increasing annoyance with her and his eyes dart around the kitchen for a bit before they land on her again.

“Yeah, uhm, I just wanted to make sure that you don’t think I have any kind of expectations.”

That throws Lila for a loop a bit, she’s not sure what he’s implying. Could he mean that he has no expectations but might not be disinclined to see about where they could take this after all?

“Expectations?” Lila asks, curiously, her tone a bit softer than before.

“I… uh… I don’t want you to think that… that… that us sleeping together is some kind of condition for you staying here.” Diego stammers his way through his explanation and Lila can’t believe what she’s hearing.

“What the fuck, Diego?!” she says loudly and in a high pitched voice, ”I sure fucking hope not, that’s why I pay you rent! Jesus! Oh how gracious of you,” she’s now breezing straight into angry sarcasm, “you don’t expect me to whore myself out to you for a roof over my head? What a gentleman you are!”

Lila gets up from the small kitchen table and heads towards the door. Diego is still filling the frame looking shocked, as if she slapped him. Good, she thinks. But when she approaches he rallies and says, also in a near shout, but still clearly trying to hold his frustration in, “What?! No! Lila, that’s not what I meant! I… I…” but he loses his thread, or has nothing more to say and visibly deflates.

Diego shifts in the entrance to the kitchen when Lila gives him an expectant look, eyebrow quirked, and she’s glad that at least he’s not going to trap her in this trainwreck of a conversation when he moves out of her way, but as she tries to maybe a little over-dramatically flounce past him, he grabs her arm. Not tightly, she could very easily pull away, but it stops her in her tracks nevertheless.

Lila looks up into his huge brown eyes staring back down at her, his jaw muscle twitching, as he is trying to work out what to say and for a bizarre moment, considering their argument, she thinks he might kiss her. Fuck, for a beat she thinks she might kiss him!

But then it passes and Diego drops his hand and Lila is too proud in that moment to admit that maybe she overreacted, that the combination of feeling like absolute shit and being completely uncertain about where they stood with each other had made her irritable and quick to blow up.

Well, she thinks darkly, as she storms to her room, at least with that outburst she’s created some certainty. She slams her door behind her and then does a bad job of trying not to start crying.

-

Diego is still rooted to the spot a good few moments after Lila’s door slams shut.

Then he knocks his forehead into the door frame in pure exasperation at himself.

How has he fucked this up so badly? He steeled himself for the prospect that Lila'd just been fooling around with him, that she’d had a bit of fun but wouldn’t be interested in pursuing this further. That he could live with. But the idea that he’s gone and insulted her, that he’s really upset her, makes his throat seize up for a second.

Unbidden, memories appear in his mind of Lila lying in his arms, warm and supple, pressing her lips to his own, his cheeks, his eyelids, making him feel all sorts of things, but most of all content in a way he hasn’t in a very long time, or maybe ever, he can’t quite remember.

She’d been so beautiful, so perfect, and instead of telling her that, he’s gone and told her he doesn’t expect her to pay him for her room with sex. What a colossal fucking idiot he truly is.

Diego lets out a shaky breath, walks properly into the kitchen and finds a plastic bowl, turns it upside down and puts it over Lila’s plate of… banana sandwiches? Despite everything that makes him smile.

Then he heads back to the front door, picking up his keys on the way. He thinks he’d best give Lila some space, it’s the very least he can do, so he heads out, certain there’s some case or another that he can work on and maybe just sleep in his office.

[currywaifu]

𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞: you can have half 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩: hyodo juza/reader 𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: sfw 𝐰𝐜: 3.0k words, 2 images

𝐚𝐧: my first a3! fanfiction

He was in three of your classes. Three, and not once have you gotten the chance to talk to him! Granted, you never took the initiative either but after a few months, you’d think some kind of pair or group activity would pop-up to help you out.

The two of you were even in the class with the highly-acclaimed (by the student body) matchmaker professor, and either you were too subtle with your pining or weren’t interesting enough because not once has she tried to pair you up with him, or anyone for that matter.

Seriously, what does one have to do to get close to Hyodo Juza?

There wasn’t a particular moment you could pinpoint when you fell for Juza, but rather it was an accumulation of things that got you more and more attracted to him.

His cool and tough exterior first caught your attention, from the way he dressed to his purple hair. It didn’t help at all that he was extremely attractive to you.

Then you started noticing more things about him, like how polite he was to the professors, or the tiny smile he wore when he ate the anmitsu from the school canteen, or when that one upperclassman handed him some mochi, or when the photography-club senior gave him a box of pocky.

Juza being a sweets lover? Isn’t this what they call ‘gap moe’? Ahhh, your poor heart.

“That’s it!” You exclaimed to yourself excitedly, sitting up from your bed so quickly your head hurt slightly.

“I’ll give him some sweets as a conversation starter!”

Easier said than done.

“Isn’t it awkward to just give sweets out of nowhere to a guy?” You whined, hiding your face with your arms and laying your head down on the table. Your friends sighed for the nth time within the past hour, patting your head comfortingly as the two of them looked at you incredulously.

“It’s normal to confess feelings through sweets though?”

You jolted your head back up to look at the girl. “And who said I was gonna confess?”

The disbelief on their faces increased tenfold. “You’re not?”

Grimacing at the volume of their voices, you looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. By the history books section, you locked eyes with the librarian who paused putting back returned books to glare at your table, causing you to give an awkward smile in return.

Right, library. Inside voices.

“I wanna become friends with him first, but I’m too much of a wimp to even approach him huhu…” When the two girls don’t respond, you turn to the direction where they were staring straight ahead. A slight heat spread throughout your chest and into the roots of your hair.

“Omg, yankee Barney is here.” Choking on saliva, the speed at which you turned away probably gave you whiplash.

“I was gonna go with Dibo the Delinquent Dragon, but I like yours more.”

The two crackheads were stifling their laughter and looked like they were moments away from bursting out and getting themselves kicked out of the library. “Shut up! Let me wallow in my misery in silence.”

“Oh? Since when did Elmo get so dramatic?” Feeling your face heat-up and redden further, you stood up to leave.

“I’m gonna get strawberry milk from the vending machine, go talk shit without me.” You groaned, only staying long enough to hear them laugh as loud as they could without getting caught.

...

There was only one left, and you were the only one in line. How lucky was that? You waited for the machine to do its thing and drop the milk carton through the chute.

Except it wasn’t doing its thing. Odd. Should you stick your arm in the slot? Shake the machine? Kick or punch the glass? Ask someone for help? All of the above, in that order?

Fate had decided for you.

“You, do you need help?”

Holy holy holy-

Hyodo Juza was behind you! And he was talking to you!

Okay brain, here’s the game plan. Turn around, casually ask him for help, thank him, introduce yourself then continue the conversation from there!

Except you decided to make like the vending machine and malfunction.

“I- uh- yes? Please?”

Fuck, you probably sounded dumb. What kind of first impression is this? That response would probably get you intimacy points close to none. You went outside to cool down but weren’t the heat levels rising again?

He stared at you for a second, before quickly looking away and kicking the machine. Ahh, wasn’t that really cool? He crouched down, sticking his hand through the slot before handing you the carton.

“Strawberry milk…”

It looked like he was glaring for a second, but wasn’t he staring because he actually liked the flavour? He was holding out the drink to you, but you hastily pushed his palm back towards him.

“Thanks! You can keep it since you helped me with, you know. The machine! Okay, see you in class Ju-san!” You spoke quickly, before swiftly fleeing the premises.

Back in the library, you let your head fall down on the wooden surface. “You look like crap, what happened?” Letting out a pitiful whimper, you look up at them with a pout ready on your lips.

“He probably thinks I’m weird now…” The two girls exchanged a look with each other.

“Not that you aren’t, but what you do boi?”

“Ju-san…” He murmured quietly, palming the pink and white milk box in his hand. He sat in the dorm’s living room, wondering what he should do.

Juza’s seen you before in a couple of his classes. You always sat somewhere in the middle beside your friends, taking down notes and asking questions when needed. Other than the fact that you were a hard worker, he didn’t really know anything else about you.

Until the fateful encounter today.

At first, he thought you were scared of him from the way you froze up like a mannequin. Then you turned to him, not looking afraid but definitely a little faint and red-faced. Were you sick?

That didn’t explain how you just rushed off without your drink, and that odd nickname.

Ju-san.

Ju-san.

“Juza? Are you okay?” Flinching a bit, his eyes met with Omi’s concerned amber coloured ones.

“Omi-san, I’m fine…” He replied, doing little to convince Omi who proceeded to sit down next to him.

The strawberry milk was still sitting in the purple-haired boy’s hand.

“Are you not gonna drink that?” The brunet didn’t say it aloud, but both of them knew what he meant, ‘It’s not like you to just save it for later, so something’s up.’

“Someone gave it to me.” If the 4th year student was surprised, he sure didn’t show it. Instead, he gave a smile as if he knew this would happen eventually.

“And then? Why don’t you want to drink it then?” It probably wasn’t cold anymore if he had it since class hours.

“It’s not that… it feels…” Juza trailed off, looking for a word that would describe their chance meeting.

“Weird?” Omi supplied, but he shook his head. No, that wasn’t it.

“Sudden? Confusing?”

“Both of those, I think. Also, Ju-san…”

The brunet’s ears perked up at the nickname, almost believing he misheard it. Was this Ju-chan 2: Electric Boogaloo? Ah, Juza attracts cute people, doesn’t he? Can it be that cute people see through that toughness and see his softer side? It’s certainly true with Juza’s cousin.

“So they called you that, huh. Ju-san because Ju-sa sounds like Juza?”

Said person ignored him, unaware of the pink on his cheeks. Being a good mother senpai, Omi decided to help him out. Since Juza’s been delaying drinking the milk, he probably thought he didn’t deserve a free drink out of nowhere. That was an issue with a quick and easy fix.

“I’ll help you give them something in return on Monday.”

That was enough for Juza, who finally ripped the little plastic packet and poked the straw through the carton hole.

For a lukewarm drink, it tasted particularly good today.

You spent an hour last weekend praying to a couple deities that you could start over your first meeting with Juza. Not only that, but didn’t you end up calling him something weird?

You were walking to class when your friend leaned in closer, voice quiet so only you could hear. “Alert, yankee Barney is approaching. I repeat,”

“Don’t repeat.” You mumbled, not having the nerve to respond further, watching as he slowly neared you.

“Hyodo-san? Did you need something?” His mouth twitched at that, before handing you a purple tupperware.

“For last Friday. You can give the container back tomorrow.” You stared at the purple-haired man in shock, before accepting the gift.

“Thank you, Hyodo-san. I’ll be sure to enjoy it!” He lingered for a moment, waiting to see if you’d say something else, before nodding and walking past you and your friend.

Did that just happen?

You didn’t even realise your friend had stepped away from you until she came back running and shaking you with a magnitude strong enough to make a tree collapse.

“I thought you said he was gonna think you’re weird and shit! The fuck is this then?”

“Wait hoe I’m still shookt, let me check.”

Lifting the lid, the contents inside made your mouth water, and you wouldn’t be eating lunch for another 3 hours! Cookies! The torture of having to wait to consume them. Well, one couldn’t hurt?

Delicious! And the crisp, the size, the texture- all of them were to your liking.

“Hoh— isfh— so goo—“

“Oh look, there’s a note. While you’re greedily eating your heart out, let me read it.” Your friend pointed out, before unsticking it from the plastic lid.

“Juza felt bad for the free strawberry milk, so I helped him prepare something to show his thanks. I hope you enjoy. P.S. Ju-san? That’s cute.”

You almost choked, your friend wildly patting you on the back. “What’s this? A note from his mom or something?”

“Ju-ju-san…” You muttered in embarrassment. So he did pay attention to that! Not only that, but he even told someone about it? Well, that wasn’t your biggest worry right now.

“Isn’t this too much just for one strawberry milk? I have to find a way to repay him back!” Your friend narrowed her eyes at you, before shaking her head.

“Why do I feel like this is gonna be the start of a strange back-and-forth between the two of you?”

The next day, you handed him back the purple tupperware.

“Open it, it’s my favourite from the bakery two streets down.” You told him, doing your best to mask your shyness before walking away.

As soon as you left, Juza opened it to find a slice of red-velvet cheesecake and a disposable fork inside. He’ll eat it for dessert later. As he was about to close the lid, he noticed the cute sticky note designed like a strawberry.

Thank you for the cookies, they were really good! I passed by a bakery last night and thought you’d enjoy this!

You signed it off with your name, and he realised that he never knew it until then.

He said it quietly, testing out how it sounded.

He sighed, staring at the library door which you exited from.

The school canteen had some delicious milk bread, but don’t they sell strawberry shortcake on Wednesdays?

…

Wednesday, you delightfully ate a slice of strawberry shortcake which came with a plain white sticky note with nice calligraphy from Juza.

On Thursday, Tsuzuru found Juza eating dorayaki while reading something on a pastel blue paper.

Friday came, and the usual purple tupperware had two Castella cake slices and a lined paper, clearly ripped from his notebook, folded and taped to the lid.

Juza wondered if it would stop by next week and be handed an empty tupperware, but a surge of courage must have overcome you because Monday came with brownies and a note.

I don’t want you to keep ripping pages from your notebook. Do you have Inste? Discord? If you’re up for it, I can message you there instead. Otherwise, my number is…

He placed the paper with your socials somewhere he wouldn’t lose it.

...

Monday night arrived when you got a text from an unknown number.

This is Juza.

What a simple message, but somehow your heart fluttered. Your phone dinged again when you got a follow notification on Inste. Scrambling to follow him back and check out his posts, you didn’t know whether to laugh or be amazed when you saw that the posts there were purely promotional for MANKAI plays, some of which he wasn’t even in.

You took a screenshot of the image of him with the vest and purple tie and asked about the play.

It may not have been in person, but that marked the longest conversation you’ve had with Juza so far. Somehow the two of you went from talking about acting to food, to hobbies and complaining about teachers and before either of you knew it, it was midnight.

A couple days pass by and its Thursday night when people notice a change in Juza. Particularly, his phone habits.

“He’s not as bad as Itaru, Banri, and Kazunari but…” Tsuzuru trails off, looking at Omi who only seemed amused.

“He’s been spending a lot of time talking to someone is all.” The two of them turned their heads back to the first year as he let out a small laugh.

Three weeks in the food exchange and the two of you began having actual conversations in real life. It started when he handed you the purple tupperware, asking how you were and how your weekend was.

It somehow resulted in the two sitting together during classes, and having lunch together when Omi and Tsuzuru were busy.

You began to wonder who would break the streak.

You were running late. Maybe it was a bad idea to rush an essay worth a good chunk of your grade in the span of 8 hours, but somehow you managed to complete it at 3 am.

Thank god for online submissions. You wouldn’t be able to stand a noisy printer at this hour.

After plugging in your laptop and phone to make sure it would be fully charged before classes start later, you flop onto your bed to take a well-deserved rest.

When you woke up, it was 11 am.

Shit, you just missed a 3-hour lecture. Shit raised to the power of two Juza was in that class. Would he be worried that you weren’t there?

It looks like you’ll be the first to turn in an empty tupperware.

Still, you have a plan B prepared.

...

Juza was worried. When you messaged last night you hadn’t mentioned being sick at all. Had something happened? Sure, he didn’t get to message you that much over the weekend because of increasing practice hours but you’d definitely say something.

Omi and Tsuzuru eyed Juza as discretely as they could. No purple tupperware, no wonder he was upset. It went unsaid, but it clearly stopped being about the surprise desserts every other day and more about the person giving them.

“Ju-san!” An unfamiliar voice reached the former two’s ears, but the latter was clearly well acquainted with it based on his reaction. All three men turned around to see you, smiling and holding out Juza’s favourite food.

It was anmitsu with cream, specifically the one from the campus canteen.

“They wouldn’t let me put it in the tupperware, but will you accept it anyway?”

Did he look like he cared where the anmitsu was placed? Sure, it made him happy that despite skipping a class she still remembered to get him something, even more, his favourite dish, but…

“You didn’t show up to class a while ago.” Juza was frowning. You knew he usually gave off an angry disposition, but this was different.  

“Sorry, I was up ’til 3 am and forgot to turn on any alarms, haha.” He sighed.

“So the goodnight text then was-“

“A lie so you wouldn’t scold me for it, which obviously didn’t work in my favour.”

Having previously failed to notice the two upperclassmen, you turned to greet them, introducing yourself as Juza’s friend. “Sorry to disturb your lunch.”

Omi smiled. He introduced himself, as did Tsuzuru. So this was his troupe mate’s special friend. “Not at all. Have you eaten? You’re welcome to join us.”

Too tired to protest, you thanked him and sat down beside the purple-haired boy. “I just rushed here without eating, actually. Oh, I should probably get my lunch-“ You proceed to stand back up, but a firm hold of your arm from Juza stops you.

“You can have half.” He says, sliding a lunch set with a serving size you didn’t even know the university provided.

“What?”

“You slept through breakfast time, too. We can share.” He insisted, clearly not accepting no for an answer.

You take the unused chopsticks and begin to prod at the side dishes. “Fine, but now I owe you something. Should I get you banana milk from the vending machine?”

Juza looked away for a second, eyes hesitant as he glared at the anmitsu instead of you. When he looked back, he seemed to be filled with resolve.

“Then watch me… Autumn Troupe’s next upcoming play, I mean.”

For a moment you felt heat beginning to encompass your body, but quickly tried to shake it off. Of course Juza meant his acting.

“Obviously I’m watching it. Opening night and closing night, if I can help it.” You insisted. As if you would miss the chance to see him on stage. Sure, your massive crush on him wasn’t gonna go away any time soon, but to be able to see him do something he was extremely passionate about?

“Quick, help me finish lunch already so you can enjoy your anmitsu, Ju-san.”

...

The two of you somehow forgot the presence of Omi and Tsuzuru, both of whom were listening to your conversation intently.

“Then watch me? Seriously, lines like that can be interpreted…”

“I think we’ve become the third and fourth wheel, Tsuzuru.”

want to order again?

[smoljamswrites]

all is fair in love & war | bts x reader | chapter 3

pairing: bts x female reader

genre: mafia!au, series fic, angst, fluff, (eventual) smut

warnings for this chapter: bitchy girls? degradation, mention of Syndicate killing reader’s parents, abuse, slight mention of Y/N talking about killing herself (only mentioned once in passing), stalker elements, swearing, 

a/n: hey, please let me know what you think in the comments! All feedback is appreciated! Just a reminder, that I am not condoning any abusive or stalking relationships in my writing. If you are sensitive to the warnings above, please do not read this fic. Thank you. 

the fic playlist is here, thanks for your support! x

Over the past 24 hours you have completely worn yourself out. Practice. Practice. Practice. You have one day until your first performance and you couldn’t be more nervous. After selecting the song on the stereo, you move to stand in the middle of the podium, your hips swinging with fake confidence as you walked. Coming to the black chair in the centre, you sit sideways, bringing your legs off the floor in one smooth motion. Hooking your legs over the back of the chair, you swing yourself around so that you are now upside down. Running your hands over your body, you look at the wall straight ahead. Moving away from the chair, you make your way over to the pole. Wrapping your legs cautiously around the pole, you do a couple of turns on it before bringing yourself down to your knees. You open your legs wide before turning to grind down, so you were now on your tummy. Butt first, you slowly bring your body up off the floor.

There’s a knock on the door before you can continue further with your routine. The door creeps open, and you’re met with big beautiful eyes and high cheek bones. “Hey! Hope you don’t mind me checking in. My name’s Kira, and I work here too” the girl smiles. The door opens further, allowing you to see her properly. Dressed in a plain sports bra, and some black shorts, her silky brown hair falling to rest at her hips, she enters the room and comes up to you. “So, what’s your name, new girl?”

Something unsettling rested within you as she called you that. You had thought she was going to be sweet. Someone nice to talk to. Finally, someone you can call ‘friend’. But the weird glint in her eyes warned you otherwise. But still, you answered her politely, not wanting to make any more enemies around here, “My names Y/N, it’s nice to meet you Kira”.

Kira’s eyes moved to look you up and down and then drifted over to the podium. “Oh, I heard your practicing for your first performance. It’ll be tough out there, especially because you aren’t really a dancer are you? I can tell because you don’t have the correct physique yet. But don’t worry! You’ll be a professional like me in no time! If you ever want any guidance from me, just give me a shout, I’m sure I can fit you in somewhere.” Snobbiness oozed in her voice, and you could tell this girl had Syndicate blood. The way she looked down on you, and put herself superior, made your blood boil. That’s what the monsters who had killed your parents always done to you – belittle you. And you’re not going to lie, it works. You are petrified of them. Who wouldn’t be!? But that doesn’t mean that you don’t hate them, that they don’t get you seething. You hate that they have you trapped in their little world. God, the things you’d do to be able to be free. Free of their torture and torment. You’ve had enough! This whole liberty idea, of ‘allowing’ you to work, is beginning to piss you off. Having to work for your life? Sometimes, you wish you’d rather be dead. If you were ever handed an opportunity to leave this place, this gang, this hell, then you’d take it. 100%. You’ve always dreamt of this magical opportunity, that some knight in shining armour is going to come and save you, but it never has arrived. Instead you’re stuck here with them, with her right now, wishing you were somebody else.

“Okay, thanks for the offer!” you force out a smile, although it doesn’t reach your eyes.

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

The day has finally come, and you’re currently perched on a black box backstage. A few of the other girls are getting ready for their performances too and are engaging in conversation. Kira is there, along with two other girls – Sunny and Grace. Kira’s long brown hair tied up in a high ponytail, her figure on display as her outfit hardly left anything to the imagination. Her face is made-up; Smokey eye makeup, coupled with a nude brown lip and false lashes. A sparkly choker completed her look.

Sunny had a different style to the rest of the girls. Her hair is left down, resting just below her chest. Her makeup is much more neutral, but she definitely draws attention to herself with her collection of tattoos. Art adorned her arms and neck, a small sentence written in a foreign language is placed above one of her breasts. Piercings decorate her lip and eyebrow, and leave a trail up her left ear, glistening when the light hits them. Out of all the girls you have met, it is Sunny that screams intimidation. Her black lace two piece matches her black hair and the glare that she sends you, makes you look away immediately.

Grace seems much brighter than the other two that you have met, but maybe that’s due to her obviously bleached hair. You can see her darker roots starting to come back through the top, but this really suits her. Her outfit is a lime green colour. Grace sits on the floor on her phone, a cigarette resting between her lips.

Just then, a Syndicate member comes through the curtain looking for you. His eyes land on yours immediately, “these packages have come for you” he throws them in your direction and walks away, leaving you to fetch the package that lays near your feet. The other girls don’t bat an eyelid at his behaviour; they know who you are, and they make it clear that they are your superiors, despite their own status in the group being quite low anyway.

You crouch down onto the floor and grab the first parcel. It feels soft in your hands. Pulling at the plastic, you tear it open, a mass of lacey fabric coming into view. Taking it out of the packaging, you see that you have a pastel pink lace bodysuit, accompanied by a garter-type belt to go over the top. Taking the outfit and the second parcel, you go to get ready in a booth, aware that you only have about 15 minutes until your show. The garter belt has two strips that hug your thighs and the bodysuit is kind of low cut, showing off your collar bones. Compared to the other girls, you look quite bare, as your body isn’t decorated with ink, or with glitter like Grace’s. Looking in the mirror, you scrunch your face to the side, quickly applying and blending your makeup. You decide quite early on that you don’t need to have a really bold makeup look today, being as you’re pushed for time. That’s why you settle for winged eyeliner, subtle eyeshadow and a nude peachy tone for your lips. You add a bit of contour onto your collar bones, hoping to make them stand out. Opening the second box, you take out a pair of chunky, lace up boots and put them on. Deep breath Y/N. Everything is going to be fine.

You exit through the curtain, passing the other dancers on your way, and wait at the edge of the stage. You peek your head around and see an array of people whispering amongst themselves and waiting for your performance to start. Shit! Here goes nothing. The music begins to play through the speakers, all whispers come to a halt. As the intro plays you walk onto the stage, beginning to feel yourself getting lost in the music. It’s just you and the practice room, you’ve got this! Nobody else is here. Placing yourself sideways onto the chair, the first verse brings your routine to life.

You make it look like it’s magic

'cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

I'm never confused, hey, hey

I'm so used to being used

Your legs have swung around to hook over the chair, just like you practiced, everything is going perfectly. The upper part of your body is hanging off the edge, all eyes drawn to watch your every move. The spotlight makes your collar bones glisten, your neutral look making you look angelic and feigns innocence.

So I love when you call unexpected

'cause I hate when the moment's expected

You’re now wrapped around the pole, turning to the beat. There’s something so delicate about the way your body moves. It’s like you were one with the song, completely in sync. You come back down and look straight ahead, coming down onto your knees.

So I'ma care for you, you, you

I'ma care for you, you, you, you, yeah

Legs are spread, your own hands coming down to marvel your body. You were mesmerizing! Your body turns to the side, sinking down onto the cold floor, ass high in the air as you do so. You lift the lower half of your body up quickly, and then you bring it back down, and you repeat. It matches the beat of the song really well, but also your pounding heart.

After a couple more minutes, your routine wraps up. As soon as the music finishes, you quickly leave the stage, not wanting to look anybody in the eye once the spotlight gets dimmed down. As you rush backstage, ready to get changed back into some more comfortable clothes, you’re stopped by Yunseo.

“Y/N! That was brilliant sweetheart! Who knew a sweet, little girly like you could get every man in there going, huh?” his sweaty palms caress your shoulders, and you’re struggling to hold back the urge to shudder. His words are vulgar and coarse, eyes looking you up and down like he wanted to demolish you. “I always knew you were a performer, the way you act all shy with the boys at home is all a front really, isn’t it?” You couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. You do not ‘act shy’, it’s called being frightened for your life! How dare he! What he is insinuating was uncalled for, and completely untrue. You were fuming at this point, rage bubbling up inside of you. He hit a nerve alright, and you had snapped.

Your brows knit together as you look up ready to face this appalling man, “Um- actually I’m not shy thank you! It’s the fact that I don’t want anyone of Syndicate’s filthy fucking hands touching me. You make me sick. All of you make me-“

-SLAP-

The hit was loud, and the contact stung your face. You were sure that was going to leave a mark! He’s hit you before, god they all have, but having Yunseo slap you in public made the anger set in more. Your cheek felt warm and tingly from the hit, but that didn’t stop you from maintaining eye contact with the monster in front of you.

“Listen here you little bitch, I don’t want to hear another word from you tonight! Do you understand me? I don’t know who the fuck you think you are! I’ll tell you what’s going to happen now, okay? Someone has requested a private dance from you, and usually I’d have to decline being as it’s your first week and safety and all that bullshit. But I don’t give a shit now. So, you’re gonna go through there and entertain that man like the little fucking whore that you are! Got it?” his hand had come up to clutch your chin. His eyes glaring into yours, as he spat his bitter words into existence. He pushed your head towards the direction of the door. “Oh and Y/N?” you turned around, tears beginning to brim in your eyes, “just letting you know we don’t have any cameras, and if you scream, no one will come running.” His tone had changed into a calmer one, a malevolent smirk on his face, but his words made you more frightful than the last. He shoves you into the room and slams the door behind you.

Sitting on the black couch, a man peers up to look at you. He looks quite shocked to see you, but then you hear voices in the hall. You hear them clearly. Great! So he fucking heard everything! You walk over to the man, but then slow down once you get a better look at his face. He’s the one who was sat at the bar earlier this week!

“Hi, I’m going to have to apologise in advance, I have nothing prepared and so…yeah. I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out more timid than you had wanted it to, than you expected it to, but you don’t miss the way that the man’s face softens at your apology.

“Hey, no, please don’t apologise! Come here” his voice is soft, and although the request for you to come closer should have sounded unusual, you found yourself moving to sit next to him, seeking comfort. His hand moves to cup your cheek, and you tremble slightly at the action, thinking the worst, “what happened here?”. His thumb gently caresses your inflamed cheek and you can see the sincerity in his eyes as he asks you.

You remain quiet and evidently nervous as you manage to build up the courage to confide in him. Taking a deep breath, you lean into the stranger’s touch, “h-he hit me” you simply stutter. The handsome man hums in response, features beginning to tense after your comment. It is obvious that he cares, but you don’t know why. “Who hit you Y/N?” although he is seemingly a little infuriated with the situation, the tone in which he uses to address you is still soft. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to be in trouble. You’ve done nothing wrong, princess. But it’ll help you if you talk about it, and I’m here for you. I don’t want to see you upset like this. You’re too beautiful to be sad. I want to see your eyes gleaming with happiness, not shining with tears.” At this point, you have somehow managed to be propping yourself up on this man, him soothing you, large hand running up and down your spine as tears flood down your face.

“It’s the man who owns this place. He said something t-that I didn’t like, and it made me angry so I raised my voice at him a-and he slapped me,” you sobbed into his chest. Never before have you had the opportunity to confide in someone, you’ve always felt alone. But in this moment, you feel cared for, you feel safe, you feel seen. Albeit by a stranger, but this stranger must have a heart of gold. He could have easily had taken advantage of you, but he didn’t do that. He didn’t want to.

“He shouldn’t have hit you. My mother always told me that a real man would never hit a lady, and if he did then he isn’t a man, he’s a mouse. And as for the things he said, I heard it. And you were right to stick up for yourself, princess. You don’t deserve any of this. But it’s going to get better, I promise!” You snuggled closer to his chest and looked up at him, smiling. You thought it was weird that you felt safe in his arms, and yet you didn’t even know his name.

“What’s your name?” your voice gets muffled into his shirt, but he still hears you and smiles sympathetically. “My name’s Seokjin, but you can call me Jin.” He replies, hand resting just above your hip. You nod in response whilst letting out a yawn and begin to sit up. His hand moves to tuck your hair behind your ear, “You’re tired, huh? Why don’t you ask somebody to take you home so you can get some rest?”

“Okay,” you whisper, “will I see you again Jin?” you ponder, wishing that he could take you to his house, instead of having to go back to the hell that you call home. He nods insistently, “of course! I’ll come back here regularly so you know that you aren’t alone, yeah?” both of you rise from the couch, but Jin turns to face you. He leans down, gently placing his hands on your petite shoulders and kisses your forehead. It’s ever so soft that it barely feels like his lips have grazed your skin, but your body shivers in delight all the same. You both part to exit the room and bid your goodbyes. Then you’re off in search for somebody to take you home.

Walking through backstage, you find your belongings screwed up in a plastic bag, definitely not where you had left them but at least they hadn’t gone missing. You get changed back into a much more comfortable attire, wiping off all of your makeup, and leave the booth once more. Sunny and Kira are in the next room you walk into and you are surprised when they start talking to you.

“Hey Y/N” Kira chirps, turning to look at you, “we’re gonna go outside for a smoke, you wanna come?”

You nod, maybe a little to eagerly, as you think that maybe fresh air would do you some good after this whirlwind of a day. Following them outside, the cold air of the night briefly brings you out of your sleepy state. Grace is already out here, sat on the grimy sidewalk without a care. All 3 of you walk towards her, Sunny and Kira in front while you walk behind. This unnerving feeling comes over you, as you get the sensation that you are being watched. You can’t seem to shake it, but it feels like someone has their eye on you, and it is watching your every move. The back of your neck feels tingly as a result, but you try to forget it as you reach Grace.

“Oh my God!” she exclaims in disgust, staring right at you. Kira and Sunny turn around to look at you as well, as Grace continues, “Looks like some guy got carried away with you during your private dance, huh? Look at your face! He hit you? Didn’t think new girl would be into that ladies!” The other girls join in, mocking the blemish on your face, and you don’t know what to say to make it stop. So you just sit down on the floor, and play with the weeds that are pushing through the concrete squares of the pavement. You try your best to block out their words, but some of them stick in your mind, repeating like a mantra.

‘Slut. Kinky bitch. I thought the syndicate pet was going to be shy clearly NOT! Whore. Disgusting bitch. Did you enjoy it slag? What was you doing anyway giving somebody a private dance on your first week? Desperate much?’

After a while, they all get up to go inside, and you know you have to follow suit. But just as you stand up to follow them, you hear something from the opposite side of the road. You turn to squint into the darkness, trying to make out what was lurking in the shadows. Something is over there, right? A bright flash of light grabs your attention, coupled with a faint shutter type sound… did somebody just take a photo of you? You freeze in place, completely still, as you feel the blood drain from your face.

“Hey new girl, are you coming or not?” Sunny is holding the door open for you, looking extremely pissed off with you. You let out a shaky breath, before stepping through the open door and back into the confinements of the club. I definitely need to go back home. All 4 of you are greeted by two Syndicate members as you enter backstage again. Going up to one of them, Seojun, you feel the eyes of the other girls on you, “When can I go home? I’m a little exhausted”, you smile, asking nicely. Seojun turns his head to look at you, “Not yet, you’re gonna have to wait. We’re, um, busy with something at the moment-“

“I’ll take her!” both you and Seojun turn your heads to the assertive voice, and your eyes meet with Sunny. Great! you muse.

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

The walk back to the Sin Syndicate’s mansion was one of irritability and interrogation. Sunny would not stop making sly comments about you, but you couldn’t do anything about it. You were already in enough trouble with Yunseo already, and you didn’t really want to make it worse for yourself.

“So I guess the Syndicate pet is a certified hoe now, yeah? After that private dance of yours, it’d be spiteful to refuse you of that title. Welcome to the club, hunny! We’ll take care of you!” Lies. Lies and insults, that’s all the shit that came out of her mouth. God, how badly you wanted to shut it for her. Just take deep breaths. “Your performance was okay too, for your first time at least. You’ll get better though, don’t worry!” at this point, you’re 90% sure that she’s just trying to provoke you. To test your limits.

“Right, I wanna pop into this off-licence, so come on!” she grabs your wrist forcefully and drags you in the direction of the store.

“Can’t I just stay out here? Please?” you hate yourself for sounding like you’re begging, but you really want to be alone, even if its for 5 minutes. She laughs in your face at your request and you already know what she’s thinking. “I’m not going to go anywhere, I promise! Why would I? Do you think I’m dumb? I wouldn’t even know where to run to, and besides I get everything provided for me at home. I just need a breather, that’s all, I swear!”

She lets go of your wrist and walks alone towards the shop door, “You better be telling the truth, pet! Or I’ll personally track you down and kill you, understand?” she doesn’t even face in your direction as she speaks to you. But you know she’s true in her threat. She pushes the door open, the bell above the door signals the arrival of a new customer, and then it shuts swiftly behind her.

Propping your exhausted and aching body against the filthy wall of the shop, you take a deep breath. At least today is over and done with, and you can finally go home and go to bed. You roll your head to the side and admire the night view. It’s so weird being outside at night like this, being completely alone with the world. The big dark blanket of the sky is adorned by sparkling silvers, begging to capture your attention. It’s so peaceful, and you feel so safe. You can hear cars and sirens in the distance, the slight breeze in the air occupying most of the sound. You look straight ahead, and you notice something rather peculiar. A car. Albeit there is nothing strange about a car normally, but it’s because you had seen this exact car before. A dark grey body shining in the moonlight. And that’s when you make eye contact with him.

You storm over to the car and forcefully tap on the window. Big wide eyes are staring back at you, and you can feel the urge of his to drive away, but no, you want answers! You pull on the handle to his side of the car and you can feel the fury and confusion beginning to build up inside you. “Care to explain why you are straight up stalking me!?” you spit, subconsciously allowing yourself to take out everything you were feeling from that day on him.

“Y/N no- I can explain I promise! This isn’t what it looks like!” the man is beginning to panic. The last thing he wants is to lose contact with you. This isn’t how this was supposed to go.

“Explain to me then, Jungkook! First you get me free drinks, then you get my number, and now you follow me around in your car! What the fuck!? Was it you taking photographs of me?!” You are now raising your voice at him in this street, probably waking up the residents nearby, but you’re too pissed to care. You’re outraged!

“No- It’s complicated I swear! It’s a long story and I don’t think we have time-“

“You know what!? Just forget it, you creep!” and with that you slam the door to the car and begin to make your way back over to the store. You’re red with anger. But as you look up, you can feel all the colour drain from your face. Sunny is standing in front of you, eyes wandering from you to the car. “Y/N?” her face seems cold; emotion is not evident. A detached and distant tone takes hold of her voice. You’re beginning to think your heart cannot beat any faster.

thump thump thump thump thump

But the next words that fall from her mouth make your stress and panic set in more, “Who’s the guy in the car, Y/N?”

next chapter update: Sunday 9th February 2020 9pm gmt

tagging: @dearlydreadful​ @honeydewseoks​ @whimsicalwoodlands​ @toddsgirl27​ @wendyiiwl​ @asifetch7​ @barbyisafangirl​ @miraculyfe​ @btsxdoll​ @laluzdirectioner​ @slutkoo​ @bubbletae7​ @h5naaa​ @smollmonajinsa​ @vivpurple7​ @purplelady85​ @vi-hoshi​ 

let me know if you want to be tagged in future chapters! 

Thank you so much for reading!

all rights reserved © smoljamswrites | 01/02/2020 | reposting my work or modifying of any kind is strictly not allowed. Translations are also not allowed.

[staticscreenwriting]

12 Days of Christmas - [Day 4]

A/N: Day number 4 for the Christmas coundown with @mattysheelies. This one’s almost 6k words. I loved writing this and I hope you like it too. It’s cheesy and cutesy and maybe cliché but it’s Christmas so idgaf. ENJOY ♥

Prompt: Snowed in together.

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader

“I felt so lonesome, all of a sudden. I almost wished I was dead.”

It happens, every once in a while, that you read a sentence in a book that you’ve read a hundred, maybe a million times before and it suddenly hits you like a punch straight to your gut. Because it’s different now. The book has stayed the same all through the seasons but you realize, you’re a whole new person who’s been through a whole new set of trials and tribulations. And all of a sudden you understand. 

I slump back into the cold, sticky plastic of the bright blue seat and clutch my beat up copy of Catcher in the Rye closer to me. I face the huge windows, looking out into the black of the night and the airplanes, firmly rooted on the ground. There’s a heavy downfall of snow and no sign of it stopping anytime soon. 

Maybe, I realize, this is my reckoning. Isn’t this what I’ve been wishing for ? A white Christmas like the one from the songs and the movies ?

Well merry fucking Christmas, (Y/N).

Every snowflake is a sick reminder of what could have been. Of what isn’t. 

I let my eyes travel around the area. Rows and rows of blue plastic seats. There’s not a lot of people waiting around here. I assume most people have flown home a few days ago to make it in time for Christmas and the few that weren’t smart enough to do that, have resorted to some bar or a restaurant or something. 

In theory, I could do that too. The thing is, spending Christmas eve by myself in an airport restaurant, would just seal the deal for this being the most depressing and downright sad Christmas of my whole life. 

So I stay seated and lose myself in Holden Caulfield's delightful pretentiousness. 

They’re playing Christmas music from a nearby speaker. I wonder if they want to taunt me. Me and everyone else stuck in a fucking snowstorm on Christmas Eve in god damn Indianapolis. They even have a tree set up and where it should make people happy, it only makes me even more sad. I wanna be home with my family, decorating my own tree with all the weird and quirky ornaments we’ve collected over the years. They all come with their own stories and it fills my heart with bittersweet nostalgia.

I’ve never known what being homesick feels like until tonight.

Again my eyes move along the rows of plastic seats. There’s a man in a sharp suit a few rows down. He’s got neatly combed hair and a red tie and shiny shoes and a face that says “ My name is Michael and I don’t allow anyone to call me by a nickname and I have an important job and I drive an expensive car and I probably fuck my secretary. “ 

It’s not a face you particularly want to look at. Except maybe if you’re said secretary. 

A family of 3 sits by the end of the row. They seem — at peace. And for a moment I wish I could be them. I guess it’s different being stuck if you’re stuck with the people you love. 

It makes me bitter to think about it so I avert my eyes and let them travel down the other side of rows. Which turns out to be no better for my mental state because there’s a couple there and they do not seem to care that an airport terminal is not the ideal place for some serious tongue action.

Across from them sits a guy, he’s got a mean mullet. Strands and strands of golden curls. He’s wearing a leather jacket and big black boots and there’s a deep scowl permanently edged onto his face. If he’s aiming for the whole bad boy vibe, he’s really nailing it. 

I can see him shaking his head, as he too notices the couple getting awfully touchy, and I can’t suppress a laugh.

He notices and he looks at me and even across two whole rows of plastic seats I can see just how gorgeously blue his eyes are. 

He doesn’t laugh or smirk or does anything to give me any indication of his feelings. Maybe I’m grateful for it. Maybe I wish he would. It would be quite nice to make a connection with someone right now. Just to make being alone feel a little less lonely.

“ the snow's comin' down

(Christmas) I'm watchin' it fall

(Christmas) lots of people around

(Christmas) baby, please come home”

It’s quite ironic, really,that they would chose this damn song. Of all the Christmas songs in all of the world. 

Mullet boy seems to be a kindred spirit in this regard, I can see him sigh and murmur a “for fucks sake” into to collar of his jacket, as he sinks deeper into the chair.

“They’re singing deck the halls, but it’s not like Christmas at all. “ 

Yeah it really fucking isn’t. 

A smacking of lips catches my attention and I focus back on the couple just to witness the guy’s hand travel straight under the sweater of his girlfriend. It’s a sight I don’t particularly want to see. 

A sight that apparently makes my face screw up in aversion. And as it does, old blue eyes looks back at me and this time, I see a smirk. It vanishes as quickly as it appeared but I know for a fact that it was there. Maybe I don’t have to be all that lonely after all.

I close the bruised and battered orange book that, at this point, is hardly orange anymore, and place it in my backpack. If my life was a John Hughes movie or maybe any other romantic comedy, I’d get off my seat and walk over. There’d be some cheesy some playing in the background, maybe by the Smiths. I would throw him a smile and he’d look at me, an angel’s choir singing wonderous melodies. And tonight would change both our lives forever.

Alas my life is not a movie that Morrissey wrote any songs about. I am a coward and my heart already lies in several little pieces at my feet. So I don’t walk over just like that with no idea what to say, no incentive.

Instead I grab my backpack and walk past him, down a long corridor and end up at a vending machine that sells both, coffee and soup and I secretly pray that they don't come from the same jet. 

The last coffee I had, I think as the warm liquid fills the paper cup, I bought at the little cart by Kelvin’s dorm room. It was a good coffee, had Hazelnut sirup in it. I remember the warmth of it in my hand. I remember the taste on my tongue. I vividly remember the sound of the cup hitting the floor and the stains on my pants and the feeling of my heart as it broke in two.

I don’t want to remember that though, so I will myself to ignore it. To push the thoughts away. I fill the second cup, grab it, put lids on them and then carry them back towards the row of seats.

Mullet boy doesn’t as much as glance at me as I drop down in the seat next to him. Only shows me that he notices me as I hold one of the coffee cups out to him.

“ Sorry it’s not booze. I know that would make looking at these two a little more entertaining. “ 

For a second he just looks at me in confusion, contemplates whether or not to trust me. In the end he takes the drink so I take that for a good sign.

“ Thanks. “ 

His voice is deep and raspy and I really really like the way it sounds. 

“ I wonder if they even realize there’s other people around “ I say, watching the dude’s hand travel down the girls back, as they dreamily blink at each other like the main characters on a romance novel. Maybe those two get the romance and the the Smith song in the background. Maybe I’m just a sad side character in their story.

Mullet boy scoffs, takes a sip of coffee then speaks up. “ Don’t even think they’d notice if we joined in “.

He smirks at that. There’s an absolute underappreciation for people who laugh at their own jokes. I think it’s charming, endearing even. If you can’t laugh at your own joke, how do you expect anyone else to do it.

“ Least they’re not alone on Christmas fucking eve “ 

I don’t know why I say it. I don’t necessarily want to share my sob story. Sometimes my words just move faster than my head does.

“ Christmas is overrated anyway “ blue eyes says and shrugs his shoulders in a way that’s supposed to look casual. Only you can’t say shit like “Christmas is overrated” and be casual about it. There’s always more to a statement like that.

“ You think ? “ 

“ I know. “

“ How come ? “ 

He turns to face me and raises a perfectly shaped eyebrow. It’s like he’s straight from the cover of one of my mom’s romance novels. I think it’s quite unfair that he gets to look like this on a day like today and I — I look just the way I feel. Sad. Exhausted. 

“ It’s none of your business. “ 

“ Oh geez, and here I was thinking we were bonding over our shared distaste for PDA. Guess not. “ 

“ You guessed right. “ 

For a moment, we fall into silence as another song plays over the stereo that has entirely too many obnoxious jingle bells in the backing track. For a moment I feel very lonely again.

It’s then, that the universe seems to have pity on me. It sends me a sign. A gift. A little Christmas miracle if you will.

That comes in the form of the couple getting more touchy, more — obnoxious. So obnoxious that the girl leans back, presumably to lay on the seats, only that’s not what happens. It seems to happen in slow motion when really it’s probably only the blink of an eye. She leans back and back and back and suddenly tumbles off the seats and onto the cold linoleum floor, her mister holding onto her so tightly, he falls right down with her.

My mama always told me not to laugh at other people’s misfortune. But at 18 years of age, I feel it’s time to break some rules my mama set. And this is one of them.

I can’t help it. I laugh. It comes from the deepest corner of my belly and fills my entire being. Then I catch those gorgeous blue eyes looking at my and I notice he’s laughing too. A hearty laugh. I think it’s a good one. No halfway laugh. No bullshitting. It’s a proper laugh and, as we lock eyes, our laughter only seems to increase.

The magic bubble that, until now, has surrounded the couple, seems to have been popped. It’s vanished. For them at least. Because as our laughter rings in unison, a proper harmony of joy, I feel like maybe me and mullet boy have been given a tiny spark of magic ourselves.

“ I’m (Y/N), by the way “ I say, trying to hold in more chuckles.

“ Billy ” 

“ No no, you got it all wrong. His name is Michael and he’s on a business trip that he tells his wife he couldn’t postpone but actually he just wanted to get away from his family for the holidays. “ 

“ Michael ? nah. This dude’s not a Michael. “ 

“ So what’s his name then, Billy ? “ 

He thinks for a moment, face scrunched up in a way that is absolutely adorable. It makes him look way younger than he probably is. Very boy-ish. Very cute.

“ Edward “

“ Edward ? “ 

“ Yes. Look at him, he looks so boring. And can you think of a more boring name than fucking Edward ? “ 

I have to admit, he has a point. So I shrug and nod. “ You have a point. “ 

The little family from earlier, passes us and, as the mom glances towards us, her eye linger on Billy just a moment too long for it to be accidental. And he notices, the cocky bastard. He notices and revels in it, letting the corner of his lips lift up in a teasing smirk.

“ What the fuck was that ? “ I asked, flattened by the sheer audacity for both of them.

“ I got that effect on women of all ages. “ 

“ Wow, your ego is really tiny, huh. “ 

When he looks at me, grin widening and eye filling with mischief, I know I just said the wrong thing. I set myself up with this one, I admit that.

“ That’s the only thing tiny about me. “ 

“ Aaaand that’s my cue to leave. “ I pull myself halfway out of my seat when his arm shoots out and his hand grabs onto mine. The mischief in his eyes in gone, completely replaced by a pure and unfiltered honesty.

“ Stay. Please. “ 

I sink back down and we fall into a silence. He knows that I saw it in his eyes, the fear of being left alone and I know that he knows and so we’re stuck in this weird limbo of whether to ignore it or spill our sorrows to one another. And maybe it’s because today is Christmas and on Christmas you tell the truth, even if it to a stranger at an airport, but he suddenly breaks the silence and starts talking.

“ I don’t wanna be alone. “ 

“ Yeah me neither. “ 

“ I uh — I was supposed to be in California, to visit my mom over Christmas. I haven’t seen her in — in years. This was supposed to be our first Christmas together since I was 8. I called her earlier, from the payphone. I thought she might be devastated. She’s not. I don’t think she cares very much if I’m there or not. I’m still debating whether or not I wanna get on the plane if it ever goes. “ 

“ I came to visit my boyfriend for Christmas. Surprise him, you know. He’s going to college here in Indiana. We’re both from California and we haven’t seen each other since the summer. I thought It was the ultimate proof of my love to him. Well — turns out he’s been fucking his way around campus while I’ve been busy making plans on how to rearrange my life and all my dreams, to come study with him in Indiana after I graduate High School. “

Another silence fills our hearts but this one isn’t thick with anticipation and tension. It’s one that settles deep in our bones as we realize, that sometimes there’s comfort in shared misery. 

“ Merry fucking Christmas to us. “ Billy murmures.

“ Do you wanna go see if we can get a drink at the bar ? “

“ That’s the best idea I’ve heard in a while. “ 

“ I can not believe your fake ID says you’re name’s Ricky Hardman. “ 

“ If you’re mocking me I can just drink this myself, you know. “ 

“ Oh come on. It’s just — that sounds like such a porn name. “ 

“ So what. “ 

I have to snort at his complete lack of self reflection. He knows I’m right but he’s so stubborn. Again I find myself thinking it’s endearing rather than annoying.

To come back to a statement I made earlier, I also think we don’t appreciate the people enough, that make us snort-laugh. Is it a bit embarrassing and cringy? Sure but it’s a laugh either way and I don’t think we should ever take that for granted.

“ Put the cups down so I can spice it up a little bit “ Billy instructs me and I do as he says. This is probably our 4th refill of coffee for the night, my mom would have a go at me for all the caffeine but whatever.

Billy opens the bottle of booze he just purchased at the airport store and pour us both a decent amount into our coffees. Might as well have our own little Christmas celebration if we’re stuck here with nothing else to do.

Cups clutched in our hands we roam around the airport, cheeks warming up from the alcohol. I feel more at peace now and yet my heart is ever as heavy with the longing to be home. 

A sign directs us towards the visitors terrace where families usually gather to watch the planes take off and land. It’s deserted now but that’s not really a surprise. It’s cold, it’s snowing and there’s no flights going anyway. It’s just a dark, snowy night and a lonely runway illuminated by small lights that, if you believe hard enough, almost look like fairy lights in the distance.

“ I know it looks pretty, “ I say as I lean against the banister of the terrace “ but I really don’t find snow all that great.” 

“ I fucking sucks, “ Billy replies. “ It’s cold and wet and turns into gray slosh in the matter of a few minutes. “ 

“ I always dreamed of a white Christmas, now I can’t wait to never see snow again. “ 

“ Me too. I hate it. Snow. Indiana. At least you get to stay in California once you make it there. I have to wait until graduation to finally move back home. “ 

I don’t want to pry, I really don’t but there’s something about him that intrigues me. Everything he says and does in scrowded in some kind of mystery. Some hidden meaning in all of it. 

The way he looks and the way his words hold a certain softness to them, is a whole enigma in itself.

“ You wanna come back to Cali ? “ 

“ Fuck yes. I can’t stay here longer than I need to. I miss the sun and the beach and — my home. “ 

“ Oh god yes, the beach. “ 

“ See, and you wanted to give up on all of that for a guy called Kelvin. “ 

“ I — he’s nice.” 

“ Oh I’m sure he is. And secure and smart. “ 

“ He is. We’ve been together since my sophomore year in Highschool. He was my first — everything. He studies business and is gonna take over his dad’s company one day. “ 

Billy blows a raspberry before turning to me with his perfect eyebrow raised in mockery. 

“ That is so dull. “

“ It’s not “ 

 “ But it is ! Tell me honestly, do you really love this guy or is it just — comfortable. Being with him ? “ 

And once again, something that I’ve considered so many times in my life, suddenly affects me in a completely different way than I am used to. I understand all of a sudden. 

I get it.

“ I mean, maybe you have a point. What makes you the relationship expert though ? “ 

“ Nothing. I’m not saying I am. But I know I never plan on spending my whole life with someone because I am comfortable with them. It’s your goddamn life, you should live it for yourself. “ 

It hits me light a freight train. Straight in the heart. He’s right. Whether I want to admit it or not, Billy is right. I don’t let him know that though, it’s hard enough admitting it to myself. I think he knows anyway, by the way I look at him. By the way he looks at me. 

“ Have you decided whether or not you wanna get on the flight ? “ I ask. It’s still not my place to ask those questions but it feels like something has shifted between us. Like tonight is ours entirely. A night of truths. Of heart opened and unguarded.

“ The alternative is spending Christmas with my dad and his wife and my stepsister. “ 

“ Sounds alright to me. “ 

“ Yeah, only my dad is the biggest asshole on the planet. He’s not a nice guy. His wife is a fucking nutcase, obeying his every will. She has the backbone of a jellyfish. And Max — Max hates me. That one’s my fault though. “ 

I want to hug him. It’s a strong urge that overcomes me. A sudden rush. His words are soft and sad and frustrated and I can see in his eyes just how much this hurts him. And god, it’s Christmas Eve. I just want to make him feel a little less alone.

So I do. I hug him, rest my head on his shoulder and together we look at the snow falling around us, covering the world in a thick white frosty blanket. 

“ I’m sorry about that. Just so you know though, I’m glad we’re stuck here together. “ 

“ Well yeah, I’m hot and fun and I have great hair. “ 

“ Oh there we go again with the ego. “ I laugh. He makes me me laugh. Like genuinely laugh. I can’t remember the last time I felt like this around Kelvin.

“ What’s that book you’ve been reading. “ Billy asks as the laughter settles down again.

“ Catcher in the Rye. It’s one of my favorites. “ 

“ Uh-huh. What’s it about ?” 

“ This boy, Holden. He gets kicked out of prep school and runs of to New York City and yeah it basically chronicles his days in NYC. It’s about loss of innocence and isolation. “ 

“ Sounds absolutely — “ 

“ Wonderful “ 

“ Boring. “ 

Here’s the thing about interests and hobbies. They’re a very personal, very individual experience. They’re yours. And yes, maybe it’s nice to share your passions with another person who feels the same. But let’s be honest: It doesn’t really matter. I am not hurt by Billy’s disinterest. Not even by his mocking scoff. Because it in no way lessens my love for the book. The story it tells and the nostalgia it brings me.

It also doesn’t lessen the affection growing inside me, towards Billy. An affection that both scares and excites me at the same time. By all means, it is delusional to fall for a stranger at an airport, who doesn’t even live in the same state as me. Someone I’ve only spent a few hours with.

Then again, life is never a straight path. I used to think it was but after tonight, maybe I can let myself take some backroads. Take a road less traveled. See where it leads me and if it brings me to a dead end, turn around and try again.

Maybe sometimes it needs a boy with a leather jacket and gorgeous blue eyes, to make you realize that life can be so much more if you just let yourself live it.

“ Okay sure. What are your interests then ? I’m sure there’s something you like doing, something you care about. “ 

“ My car. “ 

“ That’s such a guy answer. “ 

“ Pff, whatever. “ 

“ What else ? “ 

He takes a moment to answer. Contemplates. Mulls his answer over in his head. There’s a vulnerability in his eyes I haven’t seen since he talked about his mom earlier tonight.

“ Music. “ 

“ Music ?” 

“ I really care about music. Not — not playing it but just music in itself. You can’t tell anyone this, okay ? It’s a bit ridiculous and It’s not really realistic, but I would love to work at a record label. Or maybe have my own music venue. To help discover bands and find new, awesome music. Whenever I’m sad or angry or frustrated, or even happy, there’s a specific songs for any emotion, any situation. I want everyone to be able to have that in their life. “ 

There’s something undeniably sexy about someone being passionate about something. He only just started but I could honestly listen to Billy talk about music for hours and hours and hours.

“ So who’s your favorite band then ? “ 

“ I’ll sound pretentious as fuck but my favorites are probably some local bands from my hometown in California. “ 

“ Maybe when you’re back home after graduation, you can take me to a gig. Show me some of those bands. “

My heart beats faster as I realize this is the first time either of us has mentioned there being a future. More than just one magical night at the airport. 

It slipped out but I’m glad it did. The idea of more nights together, more time spent listening to him talk about his music. Experiencing that music with him. It doesn’t scare me. In fact, it excites me so much.

“ Yeah. Sounds like a plan. “ 

“ A good plan. “

“ A great plan. “ 

I don’t know if he notices that I notice, but his hand drops to the small of my back, so gently it’s but a whisper of a touch. It warms me up more than our boozy coffee ever managed to.

Airports have a weird energy. A specific mood that transcends through every corner in every room. It’s loaded with the arrival of change. It might be good and exciting or it might be sad. But something is about to change and you can feel it sizzling in the air.

As I stand next to Billy in the softly falling snow, I know that the girl that arrived at the airport earlier today, heartbroken and without purpose, is not the same girl that’s gonna get on that flight home. Something has changed. I think I like this new girl better.

“ They’re singing deck the halls … “ 

“ Oh Jesus, what is it with this fucking song ? “ 

“ What, you don’t like it ? “ 

“ Do you ? “ 

“ Totally “ 

I don’t know what hits me. Maybe it’s the fact that the future is so awfully unknown. I don’t know if after tonight I will ever see Billy again. Or maybe because it’s Christmas. 

Or maybe because I’m a little drunk and half in love.

But I start to dance and sing along. With the snow falling down on me. Snowflakes dropping onto my hair and melting, leaving it wet and streaky. But it doesn’t matter right then. All that matter is the music and the night and him and I.

“ Come dance with me. “ 

“ I don’t dance. “ 

“ It’s Christmas Eve, Billy. It’s my Christmas wish. Come on. There’s no one around. “ 

Here’s some piece of advice from me to you: If you’ve never had a guy in a leather jacket and biker boots twirl you around while the snow is falling and Christmas songs play over the stereo, then you’re missing out.

Billy’s hand is warm, his smile is gentle. It’s all so vastly different from the way I felt when touching Kelvin. Everything that comes with Billy is an enigma, a surprise. Nothing is certain and yet I am sure that I’ve never felt more alive than I do right now.

The last chord of the song echoes through the night as Billy pulls me close to him, I can see his breath in the cold, accumulating in little clouds. I can feel his skin in mine. 

“ You’re gonna get on that flight, Billy Hargrove. “ I say, my voice but a sigh. A whisper

“ I’m gonna get on the flight. I’m gonna graduate and then come back to California. Permanently this time. I’ll find you and take you to all the underground clubs and show you all my favorite bands. And I’ll even listen to you talk about your books. “ 

“ Even if you think they’re boring. “ 

“ Uh-huh. “ 

“ Hey Billy. “ 

“ Hmm ? “

“ I think I wanna write a book. I think that’s what I want to do with my life. “ 

He’s so close now, our noses touching, our breaths touching, our lips touching. Warm and soft and gentle.

“ Write about us, so you don’t forget me. “ 

I kiss him then. Or he kisses me. I don’t know for sure but really what does it matter. In the grand scheme of things it’s irrelevant who initiated the kiss. It matters that it happened. And by god I will never be able to forget this kiss or the boy that gave it to me. 

“ Dear passengers, we are delighted to announce that the runway has been cleared. The sky is blue and free of any downfall. Flights will resume shortly. More information about departure times will be available shortly. Feel free to turn to our staff for guidance or additional information. 

“ Billy. Hey, Billy. “ I say, and shake him awake. He looks so peaceful and boyish while sleeping, it breaks my heart a little to interrupt his sleep. 

“ Hmm.. ? “ 

“ I think our flights are gonna go soon. Snow’s stopped. “ 

“ Oh. “

I don’t have to ask to know what he’s feeling. What he wants to say. “ Oh. this is it for us. “ 

We gather our stuff, stretch our limbs and get off the uncomfortable plastic seats. The board on the wall shows us that our flights go in just two hours. His to San Diego, mine to LA. 

Our time is numbered and we finally have an expiration date. My heart breaks once again though this time I try to hold onto the fact that we both want a future of whatever it is we’re sharing. Even if it’s just a friendship, I want Billy Hargrove in my life.

“ Hey uh — “ Billy speaks up and takes my hand in his “ let’s make a deal. “ 

“ What deal ? “ 

“ To see each other again. Maybe — maybe next Christmas Eve. “ 

“ Where ? “ 

“ I don’t know. Let me — let me come to you. “

“ Santa Monica pier. “ 

“ Okay sure. “ 

“ Cool. “ 

“ Cool. “ 

He kisses me again and this one too, will stay with me forever. In my heart and in my head.

“ Here I’ll give you my phone number. Call me if anything changes. If my dad answers just ignore his stupid comments “ He says, fumbles around in his backpack and come up with a pen and — a cassette tape ?!

“ Something to remember me by “ he points out as he scribbles his number onto the little slip of paper. “ Some of my favorite songs on there. “ 

“ If you give me something, let me give you something too. “ I say and pull out my old worn out copy of Catcher in the Rye, scribble a message on the first page, then hand it to him.

“ There’s a bunch of notes in the margins. I never got to share them with anyone, I’ll gladly share them with you. “ 

Then I kiss him. Again and again and again, until it’s all I can think about and all I can feel.

“ Flight 207 to LAX boarding now. “ 

And that is it for us, at least for now. The magic of last night is broken. It’s Christmas Eve gone, replaced by Christmas day. No snowstorm. No magic. Just the brutal truth that real life awaits.

So we part. With more kisses and a promise.

“ Until next Christmas. “ 

The plane is already high up in the air when Billy Hargrove pulls the book from his pocket. It’s old and worn out and what looks like it used to be orange once upon a time is now a washed out beige.

He opens it up to the first page and can’t suppress a smile. A real one. Not one of those he fakes for his dad and susann. A real smile that reaches his eyes. One he feels in his heart.

“ Meet me at the Merry-Go-Round! “ 

His heart soars as he thinks about next year. A future that suddenly looks much brighter than ever before. 

There’s a lot of notes and scribbles and highlighted sentences. He skims through it until one passage catches his attention.

“ Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do. “ 

And so he thinks back to the overly touchy couple and their magnificent tumble from the plastic seats. And he remembers her laugh and his ringing up in unison.

He understands. That Holden guy has a point. Maybe it’s worth reading the book after all.

A year later.

I’m rushing through the crowd of people, a vibrant clementine sky the backdrop for my misery. God, why can I never be on time.

My heart hammers in my chest. Please don’t leave. Please don’t leave.

His eyes meet mine across the way as he leans against the banister by the Merry-Go-Round and I feel like I am back at the airport. The magic is back.

“ Sorry I am late. I am so so sorry.  “  I say and can’t help myself but pull him into a kiss. One filled with passion and longing and a promise kept.

“ Ah If a girl looks swell when she meets you, who gives a damn if she’s late. “ He replies.

“ You read the book. “ 

“ I read the book and all your notes. “ 

“ That’s good, I uh — have something else for you to read. “ 

It’s a bundle of papers, no cover art or fancy pictures on the front page. All it says in big bold letters is “ A white Christmas - a story of girl meets boy. “ I hand it to Billy and he looks at me in confusion.

“What’s that ? “ 

“ That’s the first draft of my book. “ 

“ You wrote it! “ 

“ You believed I could so I did. “ 

“ What’s it about ? “

“ Oh you know, just a girl and a boy and a magical night at the airport. Lots of snow. Lots of kissing. Little bit of magic. “ 

“ Can’t wait to read it. So, you wanna go see a band ? “ 

“ They any good ? “ 

“ Pretty fucking good!” 

Darlene Love’s voice echoes through the stereo and for the first time I have to disagree. This feels like Christmas more than any moment before ever did.

And my baby is finally home.

 Taglist; [I copied this from @mattysheelies​ and just added a few new ones, if you wanna be added or deleted from the taglist please let me know]

@sebastiansloserclub ; @killer-queen-xo ; @william-hargroves ; @billysgodcomplex ; @daisyxbuckley ; @allabouthargrove ; @mcrmarvelloki ; @charmed-asylum ; @1998--js ; @naiomiwinchester​ ; @hargrovesprincess​ ; @mystrangerfics​ ; @teafrompari​ ; @staybruuutal​ ; @colourado​ ; @higher-further-faster-bb​ ; @ayybtch​ ; @carlaangel86​ ; @baebee35​

[blissfulalchemist]

4 and 24 for the angst prompts for anyone of your choice? 😘😘😘 BREAK MY HEART LICI!!!

Okay I don’t know how heartbreaking this is but I have done a little Lizette and John that’s canon. So please enjoy.

4. “Do you know what it’s like?” 24. “How much does it hurt knowing you lost me?”

I’m not sure why I ordered soup from this place, they didn’t even have my favorite one today. The spinning of the rice in the vortex from my spoon has my mind occupied as John sits across from me. He’s been picking me up from school more and more lately, ever since mom said he could see me whenever he wanted. It’s mixed feelings in my heart as I spend more time with him. We’re starting to run out of the basics to talk about, and I never thought I would feel this much anger towards him again. I thought knowing John actually loves my mom would help but it hasn’t...and that scares me a bit. I don’t want to end up like him. I’m not him. 

“How are the early applications going? Do you need any help with them?” John hasn’t touched much of his food either, he knows the inevitable is coming. 

“No I got them covered,” I’ve had them done for a month now. Just before he started coming by more often. 

“Liz,” he starts softly, like I’m a child. His child, “what’s wrong?”

I snort, “Nothing. Everything is fine. You just have to remember that I took care of everything on my own.”

He sighs leaning his arms on the table, “I know and I’m sorry,” he’s reaching for my hand before I snatch it away. His blue eyes look hurt, “You shouldn’t have had to do it on your own.”

“I have mom,” she’s all I’ve ever had but that’s starting to change too, “it wasn’t always perfect but she was there for me.”

“I wanted to be, Liz,” I watch as he restrains himself from crossing his arms, “I would have always been there for you had-.”

“Had you not been the leader of a deadly cult,” I cut him off shaking my head, “Yeah I know John.” My words come out shorter than I originally intended, but fuck him! Why did I ever want to get to know him? “I know how shit went down, it was covered in depth, the news outlets did a fine job of that,” drunk me was smarter, trying to protect me like mom did. I should have listened to Val that night, she warned me what would happen. The bowl is pushed from me a few inches, “I’m pretty sure it’s going to be taught in schools at some point.” It’s a straight lie, never could bring myself to admit that it already was. I never told mom how it was covered briefly, a footnote, an example that cults were still around in the twenty first century. Their only other mention was some of the students that chose them, Eden’s Gate, as a subject for their paper, college sociology sucked. Back then it was something that happened so long ago, felt like talking about the Mansons, and I did my paper on some other subject that seemed meaningless now. 

Looking back on that class now, the looks given to me during the presentations of said paper made more sense. They figured out who I was before I ever knew anything about my connection to them. Mom did a good job hiding it all and my brain did a hell of a job tuning out everyone around me. I’m sure the one therapist I had as a child would say it was a learned coping skill.

His jaw clenches and moves slightly to the left, “Well guess it’s good that you’re graduating early.”

“You really think that will stop the stares? The whispers?” I wonder if he’s noticed the looks from some of the older people here that would recognize his face. Or maybe it's from the scene I’ve started to make.

“Look, Liz, I understand that this whole situ-.”

My nails scrape against the plastic table, the small sound hurting my ears, “You understand,” my voice is low as I’m glaring at the table, “Really? That’s what you’re starting with?” I laugh looking him in the eye, “I don’t think you do. Tell me do you know what it’s like, what it’s really like to find out your life has been a lie? How mom’s vacations were because she had anger problems and nightmares about her time in Montana. Living without her for the first few years of life all so she can prevent social services from taking you from her forever. Or how ‘bout because of your sperm donor’s family mom actually resorted to being a murder and torturing people too,” I hiss the last part not wanting people to hear about mom. She could still get in trouble for it I’m pretty sure. The news of that from mom had sent me reeling, I stayed at Val’s for a week before I calmed down enough to come back home.

He looks down to his gloved hands sadly, “I didn’t know that wo-.”

“John do you know what it’s like to know that what the kids at school said to you turned out to be true. How much it hurt to be rejected for something you never thought possible, to think it was all lies because it was just easier to accept you were unlikeable.” I feel the lump in my throat form at those memories, “To have the permanent reminder,” I point to the scar on my upper left lip, “that parents told their children to hurt you because ‘daddy’ was a monster and so she deserves it because she’ll end up just like him.” I feel my arms shaking as my volume increases, “To worry that the only friend you’ve ever had in your life will leave because everyone else did once finding out you were the spawn of the devil,” “You’re just like your father! Nothing more than the devil. Devils produce more, no way around that.” Those words never stopped hurting, she was five when grandma said them as punishment, “How my own family decided I was too much to take care of while mom was sick because they all worried I would turn out like you!” My hand is holding onto something soft, silky as I continue, “The pain you’ve caused me and mom, how could ever possibly know what it’s like or even begin to understand it John!” 

I feel the water run down my face, noticing how I’ve become inches from his face. He’s silent, still, everything I had wanted him to be. Be the cold and calculating man people described him as and not the joke locals made him out to be, seeing his blank look now….i want the loud, over the top, dramatic man. Prove he was just putting on a show for me. Some false idea of him actually being a father. “Say something!” I’m glad that we’re outdoors as I yell in his face, my hand having hit the table. I look to see my other hand gripping his tie and shirt, just have to count to three, then my grip can loosen.

“What do you want me to say?” His voice is calm and unnerving to me. A chill runs up my spine. Is this how mom felt hearing his brother’s voice? His question stuns me as I no longer have an answer. My hand slowly releases him, “You’re right. I don’t know what any of that feels like. That I can’t begin to understand or know the full extent of what I put you and your mother through.” He’s smoothing out his shirt taking deep breaths, I see the anger management is working wonders, “I know there’s nothing I could ever do to make that up to you. But I’m trying Liz. I’m trying to be here for you now.”

I sit back down slowly, “Why not sooner? Why wait for me to find you?”

“I was respecting your mom’s wishes. Giving her space,” I can’t decide how much of what he’s saying true or not anymore. “I hurt her. I lost her,” he averts his eyes, “in more ways than you can ever know. I didn’t want her to leave but she turned into something I didn’t recognize. I just wanted the woman I fell in love with back.”

“Kidnapped,” the word leaves my mouth on instinct and he looks up stunned, “The woman you kidnapped back. The mom I deserved!” Everything is spinning and I don’t know how much of him I want in my life anymore. Is it even right to have him in my life? He’s committed so much wrong and I don’t know what kind of idiot mom was to fall for his tricks but she must have been kinder...softer. The mom I thought I had this whole time, a lie. An act. Someone that was dead and gone in his bunker surely, all by his hand. Everything in my life has been harder because of him, he’s the root of this life. 

I can’t think, everything is tangled and a mess. If my mom ever had a bleeding heart I must have inherited it to have played this game with him this long. I inherited his rage too, his old car was proof of that. There was no straight answer and I can’t live like this. I had a goal, a plan, everything was black and white, but now the colors are becoming muddled. I hate him and that’s all I need to know right this moment. 

My hand reaches for the warm soup bowl, throwing the contents in his face, “I don’t ever want to see you again.” I snatch my things, jerking the table, a glass of water spilling on him also. I regret that the soup wasn’t hotter, “Tell me John,” I tell him looking over my shoulder, “how much does it hurt now knowing you just lost me too?” I don’t wait for an answer, speeding to the nearest bus stop, jumping on the first one at random. People look away pointedly as I cry pulling out my phone calling the one person who’s never lied to me to come and get me.

[pynkhues]

Ma'am I know you're super busy and have a million asks currently, but may I be so bold as to ask for a fic sneak peek?

Haha, sure! You can have the first scene of the Center & Circumference-verse Valentine’s Day fic! (Fingers crossed I finish it tomorrow ;-) )

-

“I thought we agreed to take it easy on the glitter?”

The question’s received about as well as she anticipated by Emma, who offers up the sort of scandalised expression she gives Beth a little too often these days. It’s hard to take it seriously though when she’s somehow managed to get a constellation of silver sequins all over her face. Behind her, Rio grins, like he knows exactly what Beth’s seeing, as he uncaps the glue for Marcus.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Emma says pointedly, as if the look wasn’t enough, and Beth resists the urge to roll her eyes as she watches Rio’s grin switch to a grimace as Marcus messily ooze glue onto his sheet of bubblegum pink crepe paper.

The family room looks like a fairytale threw up on it – her craft table having been thoroughly raided for the purposes of creating Valentine’s cards for school – ribbons, stickers, markers, paint are sprawled out across the plastic art sheet Rio had thankfully laid down before letting them get started, and all the kids are there across it – even Kenny, who at 14 usually feels too cool for this sort of thing. Beth steps forwards, running her hands through his hair as she looks at his stack of four boyishly decorated cards, each for a different girl – the fact of which makes her sigh.

“How many are you making?” she asks him, and Kenny blinks up at her, rolling one letter up like a scroll and tying it with a ribbon – a sure fire indication it’s for Molly, his much-too-old-for-him math tutor (and an avid fantasy fan).

“Just seven,” he replies with a shrug, and Rio snorts, reaching over to tie Jane’s hair back (he’s taken to wearing hair elastics for both the girls around his wrist lately, hidden among his rope bangles or beneath the strap of his watch) to stop it falling into one of the open paint pots as she crawls across the mat to steal a handful of Emma’s pink sequins.

“Well, don’t pass them out all at once,” Beth huffs, walking forwards to brush Emma’s hair back too, watching as her daughter preens, even as she looks nervously across her single, carefully crafted card.

It really is pretty – a silver-sequined moon raining down silver glitter on a drawing of a couple holding hands. The girl has to be Emma – if the hip-length dark hair is anything to go by, and Beth blinks, squinting a little at the boy. Trying to place Emma’s drawing amidst any of the boys in her class.

“Who’s this?” she asks when she comes up empty, and Emma flushes to the roots of her hair, shaking her head furiously as she pulls the card to her chest, hiding it from view.

“Nobody,” she replies shyly, and even from here, Beth can see Jane’s unimpressed look on the floor beneath them.

“Tyson Wu,” Jane says, and Emma spins on the spot to glare at her sister. Beth blinks, and Rio groans, already gearing up for this fight. “What? Everybody at school knows. You go all purple and your face goes all - -”

She bats her lashes then dramatically, pursing her lips into a pout that has Marcus grinning, and Kenny and Danny both pointedly staying out of it. Emma practically yanks her hair out of Beth’s hands as she collapses down onto the mat in front of Jane, snatching the sequins Jane was attempting to hoard away from her.

“I wouldn’t expect a baby like you to understand,” Emma sniffs, and Rio pinches the bridge of his nose, ready for it when Jane reels up.

“I am not a baby.”

“You wanna know what everyone at school knows? That you still need a baby car seat.”

Jane lets loose a howl as she attempts to spring forwards and tackle her sister, something that Rio easily intercepts, hooking a finger in the belt loop on the back of her jeans and dragging her back to sit beside Marcus. Beth mouths him a quick thank you, before dropping down on the mat beside Emma, crossing her legs in Jane’s newly empty spot.

She glances over at her daughter, reaching out to curl a chunk of dark hair behind her ear, tilting her head, trying to get Emma to meet her gaze.

“Tyson Wu, isn’t he on the baseball team?”

“And the wrestling team,” Danny adds helpfully, carefully crafting a paper flower, and right, Beth thinks, putting it all together in her head.

“You were helping him with his homework for a little bit, right?”

Helping being the operative word.

More like doing it for him.

It had been Rio who’d put a stop to it, about as unsubtly as he ever did anything – lingering after a PTA meeting until the Wu’s stepped out and telling them exactly how quickly that shit would stop. To be fair, they’d been pretty horrified by the news too, and had made sure it stopped, so Beth wasn’t inclined to be too upset about the whole thing.

Now, Emma just shrugs, shaking her head so that her hair falls back over her face, and Beth sighs. God, she still feels too young for this. She’s not even quite 11 yet. She glances over at Rio, who’s turned his attention back to Marcus and Jane, giving them privacy.

“Is he going to the dance?” Beth asks gently, and Emma’s flush deepens. She nods as shortly and sharply as she can, and Beth smiles at her. “That’s going to be fun. With everyone so dressed up too.”

Picking up a silver sequin, Emma shifts it on her finger, and Beth watches as it catches the light, patiently waiting for Emma to continue. It probably shouldn’t be a surprise when she doesn’t, but still, Beth’s shoulders sag, already making a plan to try and catch a look at this boy at the Valentine’s dance on Friday.

As if on cue opposite her, Marcus springs up to his feet, striding purposefully across the art mat towards Beth and thrusting a piece of pink cardboard in her face.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Om!” he tells her, and Beth’s eyebrows leap up her forehead, her gaze dropping to the card in his hands, and she can’t quite help the grin as she takes it from him, even as all the other kids groan and Rio barks on a laugh.

“Yeah, you supposed to give her that on Friday, pop.”

Marcus just shrugs, and Beth takes it with a grin, looking at the big cake on the front – still slightly wet with paint – and she opens it up to Marcus’ unfairly good handwriting (something Beth takes at least partial credit for, and Rio surely deserves none for).

Dear: Om,

Thank you for loving me, I love you too, you’re the best Om I could ever want.

Love from: Marcus

It still surprises her, how much she likes being Om. The name had stuck after Marcus and Jane had had another too-long debate about what Beth and Rio were to the other, and it had only been when Marcus had said Beth was his Om – short for ‘other mom’, and Jane realised that that made Rio Od – short for ‘other daddy’ and descended into giggles, that the names had stuck. Needless to say, Rio still isn’t entirely sold on his nom de plume, the fact of which has only sold her kids on it all the more.

Beth grins, closing the card and reaching up to hook a hand in the neck of Marcus’ t-shirt, pulling him gently towards her and smacking a wet kiss on his cheek just to hear him giggle.

“Thank you, baby boy,” she whispers, and Marcus flushes, reaching out to hug her quickly before standing up straight again.

“Daddy made one for you too,” he says, face flushed with excitement, and - - well. Beth blinks, surprised. Rio and her have never really done anything for Valentine’s Day beyond have - - well, a pretty passionate night of sex (but that doesn’t make it much different from most days), much less made cards for one another, and when she looks past Marcus back to Rio, she pauses at his grin.

He promptly grabs a folded piece of red paper and slides it across the craft mat towards her, ignoring Emma’s squawk of outrage beside her (“Valentine’s day is Friday, Od!”)

The front of the card is probably the gaudiest thing Beth’s ever seen in her life, a mess of mis-matched sequins, paint and glitter to make no picture she can even begin to discern. Like he’s just lazily grabbed whatever was around to muck around with while he kept an eye on the kids which, in hindsight, is probably exactly what he did. Still, she glances back up at him, and he looks innocently back at her as Marcus sits back down beside him. She tentatively flips it open to see only one line in Rio’s familiar chicken scratch – Happy V Day, mami above a profane stick-figure drawing of one stick figure – presumably Rio based on the enormous oblong standing to attention at the stick figure’s crotch, with it’s head between another stick figure’s spread legs – presumably her, based on the enormous circles drawn of the stick figure’s chest.

She looks up at him, deadpan.

“So romantic,” she says dryly, and Rio promptly cackles, throwing his head back, as Beth quickly snaps it shut before any of the kids can see it. “I think your handwriting is getting worse. I’m going to have to start giving you lessons in penmanship.”

And Rio does pop an eyebrow at that, head dropping back to look at her, and he rocks a little – pointedly – on the plastic art mat.

“Oh, you gonna start givin’ me lessons?”

His tone is so thick, so loaded, that it goes straight through her, dips hot between her legs like he actually has licked her there, and god, that’s not fair, how easily he can do that. She opens her mouth to reply with something terse, when Danny reaches over her to grab some of Emma’s sequins.

“Mommy’s the best teacher,” Emma says sweetly, laying the finishing touches on her card, and Rio nods innocently.

“Ain’t she? I know she’s always teachin’ me new things to do with my hands.”

“Mommy’s good with her hands,” Jane chimes in beside him, and Rio nods again, sucking in his lips and looking straight back at Beth.

“Real good,” he hums roughly, and Beth rolls her eyes, mouths stop, and Rio just grins, slapping his hands down on his thighs in reply. “Okay, who wants popcorn?”

The kids all cheer, and Rio bounds easily to his feet, but instead of going around the mat, he strides across it, until she’s eye level with his thighs, and pinches the card he’d made her straight out of her hands to put away or hopefully in the trash – somewhere where the kids won’t find it.

“Aren’t you helpful?” Beth asks him sarcastically, briefly looking up at him, and Rio widens his eyes innocently back down at her.

“Anythin’ for extra credit, Mrs. Boland,” he purrs, voice somehow both light and thick, and Beth flushes to the roots of her hair, remembering the last time he said that to her in their - -

Well.

“Popcorn,” she says quickly, as curtly as she can manage. “And can you take the chicken out of the freezer while you’re there? I want to make it for dinner.”

Even the sounds of the children’s chatter can’t drown out the sounds of his laughter all the way down the hallway.

[granddaughterogg]

Less than whole - War x reader part 2

In which we have some failed communication, some top-notch passive-aggressiveness and Scantily Clad Strife! Part 1 can be found here.

„War. I can’t breathe!..”

His eyes flashed wide. The ironclad hold supporting you suddenly lost its power. You yelped - and wrapped both legs around his waist in order not to slide off this mountain of a man.

That discomposed War even further. His thick silver eyebrows furrowed while he seized you again, this time by your thighs – this time carefully – and put your slightly startled ass on the kitchen table.

„Forgive me”, he breathed, leaning in, his voice low and delectably rough from all the kissing. It made your insides backflip. But then again, he did just almost jellify them. „I got carried away. Are you all right?”

You giggled breathlessly.

It was hard not to melt when asked like this, not under the tender scrutiny of his gaze. War had eyes like two bluish LED lamps. Still somehow managed to convey emotion through them.

„I’m fine”, you reassured him, looking up into this picture of worry. „Really. You just kinda...squished the air outta me for a while there.”

War’s lips pursed. „I am sorry.”

„Don’t mention it, Big Guy.” You absentmindedly rubbed your (still aching) sides. They probably wore a print of ten enormous fingers. This is gonna leave some bruises, especially from his iron hand.

Your head darted up. He was still leaning over you, blush slowly seeping away from his face, that silver hair in glorious disarray. One strand flew across his scrunched forehead and fell over the wide, straight, unhappy line that was his mouth. Right now War looked like a pouty child, stifling the urge to cry.

His hands - those instruments of delight, the bringers of carnage – pressed into the table on both of your sides. 

„I wish I wasn’t like that”, he said softly. „I wish I didn’t hurt you all the time.”

„Hey, as I said, not really a problem!” You chirped. „Besides, there’s not much we can do about it. I mean, you’re a big, strong Nephilim with a badass metal arm. And I’m just...me!”

War stiffened.

„Strong”, he said, his voice hollow. „That was all I used to care about. And this arm, too…” 

You watched him slowly flex the fingers of the enormous gauntlet as if he’d seen it for the first time. Pointy metal scraped on wood.

You never asked what magic bounds it to the owner’s will. It was an instrument of bloodbath, that’s for sure. Designed to maim and crush and kill, not to give affection in any form. 

But all the same - it was his prosthetics. A crutch he needed to move seamlessly through the world. You’d never ask the man you loved to take it off just for your comfort.

War’s stare met yours. He looked so distraught.

„I leave marks on your flesh, don’t I.”

You managed a weak smile. As far as you were concerned, black-and-blue spots on your skin came with the territory.

„Yeah. They remind me of you when you’re away.”

War inhaled with a hiss and dug his hands into the wood of the table. It crunched dangerously.

It was hot, having him overarch you like this, block the light with those linebacker shoulders. Oozing with warmth, with this robust scent which made you think wanton thoughts and with worry. 

It hurt to see him worried.

„Darling.” You grabbed him by the neck, stretching your whole upper body upwards, hauled his face down to yours and kissed him. Hard.

War’s silver eyelashes fluttered in surprise; they were so long, you could feel them brushing up and down your cheeks. And then he let go and opened to you, soft and wet and ardent. Even though there was no embrace this time. His palms stayed down as if glued to the table.

„Ahem. Guys.”

The Red Rider let go before you did. One moment your tongues were entwined and War’s tantalizing smell filled you up to your very hair roots, as you slid your hips closer to the table’s edge in an honest notion of grinding on that dick. The next – it was all over, as your giant jerked back and the sun from the kitchen window poured on you mockingly. It wasn’t the only thing that was mocking.

„Strife.” War’s cheeks were flushed with red again, his voice low and guttural. Such a growl would scare the shit out of any living creature - aside from a few exceptions. 

His cheeky brother was one of them.

„Guys. Guys”, he said with a smile as obnoxious as it was wide. „I love you both, you know that. But the thing is... you’re in the way.”

You panted and snorted, flipping your dishevelled hair in a failed attempt to regain some dignity. 

„Between you and fucking what?”

„The fridge, dahling.” The spiky-haired one posed himself flamboyantly in the doorway; one hip cocked to the right, arm behind the head jutted in opposite direction, his long spine curved sideways as if he was a character in JoJo. As conflicted as you were about this dumbass' attitude, you had to admire his flexibility.

And his height. Even when wearing only boxers, some old wifebeater, which read ELMO on the front and no shoes - he still remained the tallest.

„How long have you been standing there?” you spat. 

„Long enough.” Another megawatt grin. 

War emitted a low, threatening sound of a remarkably beastly disposition.

„Hey, don’t come at me, brother.” Strife raised one hand protectively. „I’ve been wrestling with my thoughts here, ya know? Wondering whether it’s decent to break such a lovely scene, and then you two started arguing or something and it was all the more awkward, but then I really, really need to get that milk.”

You taxed the sharpshooter with a keen gaze. Unkempt hair. Deep shadows under his golden eyes. A pinched look which the uneven snarky grin didn’t quite hide. A general air of dishevelment.

What time was it, again? Ah, yes. Saturday morning. The day of the Reckoning.

„Hangover is a harsh mistress, eh?” You flung the fridge door open and grabbed the milk.

„Work hard, party hard. That’s my motto.” He stepped inside, took it from you, uncorked the plastic jug, threw his head back and drank like a man who’d just traversed Sahara.

It took a while. You remained silent. War, who has crossed his arms - was dead silent, too. Strife slurped and gurgled.

After a minute or two of this, you started to wonder about the crazy-ass direction which your life has taken. You shared a common roof with four Nephilim, out of which two were your lovers, one was a good friend, and another one was...well, Strife.

To the best of his Strife-ability.

„Can’t you just take it and beat it?” you asked wearily. Whatever magic has weaved between you and War, it was as good as gone anyway.

„No need. I’ll go.” The Big Guy sighed, pushed himself away from the table and trodded past his boxer-clad brother, who courteously stepped aside. 

„War?...” Your voice might’ve trembled. Just a little.

„I’ll be upstairs. I need a bath.”

And like that, he was gone.

Well, not exactly. You and the pointy-haired one stood there in silence for quite some time, listening to the thud of War’s heavy footsteps.

You waited until they trailed off, snapped your head at Strife and spit out: 

„There is a word for what you’ve just done to your brother. And that word is...”

„Cockblocking, I know”, he cut you off leisurely while wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. „ Humans are so crafty. So skilled with your words.”

You inhaled sharply.

„We’re also skilled in the art of kicking someone in the shin, so don’t be surprised when it happens.”

„Oi”, Strife bent down and now his gleaming, taunting stare was definitely too close to your face. You felt as if attached to an electric current.

„Don’t go taking the strain in your relationships out on me”, he said. „That’s so not cute.”

„Ugh! One day I’m gonna kill you.”

He straightened back to his impressive length and flashed you a lovable smirk.

„I’d love to see you try.”

„I mean it! I’ll find some way to make you miserable.”

Strife was already on his way out, gracefully placing the emptied milk bottle on the kitchen counter. „Anytime, princess.” He strutted out, giving his boxer-clad ass more wiggle that seemed necessary. You couldn’t unglue your eyes from it.

„But seriously. Lookin’ forward to it.”

*

To be Continued. If you like my work, please don’t hesitate to reblog it! That’s the only way for me to get seen on tumblr, you know.

[caljames]

        CALVIN  ...  CALVIN ARE YOU LISTENING ?  I’M TALKING TO YOU.

there’s a ringing  in his ear  tuning her out.    mind wonders off  into a void  of endless possibilities.  endless  questions.   it’s taking  his vision  with it  and soon  he’s surrounded by black.   no light  except from  the ceiling.   the floor  beneath him  collapses  and suddenly  he’s simply  falling  ...  but there’s no fear.    no pit in  his stomach telling  him he should  be screaming  ...  why am i here ?

  “   YOU NEED TO CORRECT THAT ATTITUDE OF YOURS.  CALVIN, WHERE DID YOU GET IT ?   ”

and he’s brought  back to  reality.   his mother’s  been yelling  since he  got home.   she found a  little plastic ziplock  bag with  1/4 ounce of marijuana  in  his room.    calvin doesn’t  see the  harm.   teens will be teens.   as the  saying goes  and what  not.   replace whatever words you’d like to get a point across.  a majority  would experiment  ...  test their  luck on  drugs and  hope for  that numbing escape.   he only  started a  week ago  ...  some wasteman  was selling  at school  ...  he’s a  waste because  everyone  knows  this is  all he’ll  ever do  in life   ...  go to school ,   get poor grades  because he doesn’t  see a point  with the  easy income  he’s getting ,  go home  and exhale.  calvin doesn’t think  he’s as bad.

GATE WAY DRUG /   THROWING YOUR LIFE AWAY  /  SHOULD BE FOCUSING  /  WHAT HAPPEN TO THE BOY I KNEW  /  NEW FRIENDS  /  BAD INFLUENCE

“  it ain’t gonna kill me.      pretty sure  most people  who smoke  don’t go  onto using  heroin so  don’t worry  so damn much.   ain’t gonna  find me  with needles  everywhere.  i get A’s and B’s so i think i’m fine  ...  I’M JUST FINE .   ”

it’s not  exactly  a flaw  ...  overbearing parents  just cared  too much.  not to  say he’s  in the  right.   new friends  introduce you  to more  new friends  ...  those friends  introduce you  to adults  who hang  around your  friends,   and it just keeps adding on.   calvin had  been losing  himself since  his father  got more work  ...  too many missing people to find.  started hanging  around a  new crowd,   and that  crowd happen  to enjoy  smoking  ...            along with drinking.

  “  CALVIN YOU ARE BETTER THAN THAT.  WHEN YOUR FATHER COMES HOME WE’RE GOING TO TALK AND WHEN HE FINDS OUT-.   ”  

                 “  HE AINT GONNA FIND OUT CAUSE HE AINT HERE.   ”

there’s a  crack  in  his voice.   emotional turn  suddenly kicking  into gear.   root of the problem.  his father was  asked to assist  on more cases,   but that meant  he wasn’t around as much.  late nights  at the  station paired  with going  out with  co-workers.  head lowers.  eyes hit  the ground  before  slowly  slithering  up to  meet the  eyes of  his mother.    interesting how teen rebellion works.     the intense  feelings wanting  to  explode out  ...    they tell  him to  run.  it pains  him to  talk back.   pretend this  is debate  and  remove the empathy.  but this  is  his mother  ...  and she’s  beyond hurt.   his father  isn’t just  neglecting him  ...  he’s neglecting  his wife.   all these  words he  throws back  at her  are  harsh versions of the truth.

WRAP A BOW ON A LIE OR A WOUND AND SUDDENLY IT’S HIDDEN BENEATH SOMETHING BEAUTIFULLY DISTRACTING.  DOESN’T MEAN IT’S GONE  ...  ONLY MEANS YOU MUST HURT YOURSELF UNWRAPPING SAID DISTRACTION TO RECEIVE YOUR TRUTH.

   “   YOU’RE GROUNDED.  NO PHONE.  NO FRIENDS. STRAIGHT HOME.   ”

somehow he  never thought  he’d  miss  his dad  ...  the man  wasn’t exactly  dad of the year  ...  but he  knew how  to reach calvin.  level with  him and  not treat  him as  that  much of a child.   he believed treating kids as adults taught them how to behave.   so yelling  and berating  were  his methods  ...  ‘ a man never lets a woman cry ’  oh how  quickly  hypocritical  that man  has become   ...   because his  son was  watching his  mother cry  while having  to deal  with their  son  alone.   but there  was more  to it.  no affair.  no secret life.  just work.    they didn’t  need  more money   ...   so why did he take on more work.

    “   talk to  your husband.   see if he gives a damn.   cause where  i’m standing  he ain’t giving two shits about what’s happening  ...  those missing  people matter  more  ...  hell if  i go  missing i  think that’ll  be the  only time  he’ll finally  give me attention.   ”

[utopianvoices]

paladin (1) | s.changbin

↭ genre: mafia au; fluff, angst

↭ word count: 3.2k

↭ description: After being caught up in situations you didn’t want to be in, you vowed you’d never play hero again. But will your conviction hold throughout?

↭ a/n: whew it’s the first time i’m writing action and i’m not very good at it, but i hope it worked for y’all! x it’s just the first part and i’m not so sure how many parts i’ll be writing but do look out for it!! <3

↭ warnings: explicit language, violence (?)

Sitting at the back of the lecture theatre always had its perks; eagle-eye view of everything that was happening below, nap sessions whenever you needed it, and best of all, not being followed by two hundred pairs of eyes when you have to use the main door to leave mid-lecture because your bladder decides that it has reached its maximum capacity. 

You settle into your seat and make yourself comfortable as students stream into the area; your heightened status making others seem like little ants. A few minutes in and you get bored of staring at unfamiliar faces, resorting to doodling flowers and stickmen on the first page of your clean notebook. 

“Maybe I should have applied to be an art major,” you mutter to yourself, admiring your doodle when a voice speaks up from the left of you. 

“You’d have to submit a portfolio during application and no one in their right mind is going to let you into the course.”

Rolling your eyes, you shut your notebook with a ‘snap’, turning to face the person who had the guts to insult your masterpiece.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Seo ‘Shit Hands’ Changbin,” you scoff, taking a good look at the boy beside you, staring him down as he puts his bag onto the ground and takes his seat beside you. “You’re early to lecture today. That’s a first.”

"I can be responsible sometimes,” was the answer you received.

Seo Changbin—your friend from college whom you had the same classes with—never turned up more than necessary. He wasn’t what you would consider a close friend, who you shared insignificant feelings and problems to, but he was friend enough that you could complain about your lecturer’s horrible skills and terrible planning when it came to assignments. 

He was also friend enough for you to be worried about the bruises that covered his knuckles and cheekbone. The colour of the bruises was a clear purplish-blue, indicating that he had acquired them very recently; most probably a day or two before.

“Are you alright?” you ask, eyes filling with worry as you run them over his bruises. “Those look nasty.”

Immediately realising that you had set eyes on his bruises, he turned his face away and hid his hand in his lap, letting out a quick “it’s nothing” before turning the pages of his notes—in hopes of making it look like he was busy studying the material—and you were smart enough to drop the topic as quickly as you had brought it up because it was clear to you that he didn’t want to talk about it.

With perfect timing, you hear the boring voice of your professor flood the lecture hall, making you sigh out loud. 

“I swear, he has to be a siren or something. His voice puts you right to sleep but then he also tries to kill you because of it,” you say, hoping your lame joke was enough to extinguish the awkward silence that was hanging in the air between Changbin and you. And it worked.

It was only for a second, but you were sure you saw the corners of his lips lifting. 

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

It was a Thursday night; which also meant that it was grocery night.

The only reason you chose to go grocery shopping on Thursdays was so that you could spend your Friday and weekends snacking and binge-watching your favourite shows without any unneeded movements. Thursdays were also the best day for grocery shopping because of the many sales the store was offering, to get rid of old stocks before replacing them with new items so that they can increase prices over the weekend. After all, you were a broke college student who was just trying to save money whenever you could. 

"That would be 25.30." The cashier’s monotonous voice reaches your ears, putting robots to shame. Poor chap—he was probably doing a full day shift, dealing with snobby idiots and bratty children. 

Usually, you wouldn’t have bothered when someone else was in a bad mood, but thinking of your favourite show that was waiting for you paired with a miraculous lack of assignments, you throw the cashier a smile and wish him a good night, earning a surprised glance from him. It definitely wasn’t everyday cashiers were wished a good day; usually people just tapped their foot impatiently, waiting to whisk their bags and leave. 

Satisfied with the surprised look on his face, you collect your bags and walk out of the store, a bounce evident in your step as you swing your bags back and forth. With nothing else to entertain you for the 15-minute walk back to your apartment, you start to sing your favourite songs. Loudly. 

Halfway through your self-concert, you start to take notice of the smallest things happening around you: It is a breezy night out; branches on trees swaying side to side freely with the trust that it was safely attached to the sturdy trunk anchored deep down into the soil. The wind combs through your hair as the stars twinkle brightly in the night sky, seemingly winking at everyone cheekily as they walk under them. The moon, seemingly irritated by the stars, illuminates the area brightly, causing the stars to disappear momentarily, but providing the people who were out on the streets with more comfort and a higher sense of security. Simply put, it is a beautiful night.

But while you were busy admiring the smallest things around you, you fail to notice that your beautiful night was about to be destroyed.

“So should I give up but really can I give up we live in a -” You’re abruptly cut off as someone roughly shoves you out of the way, causing you to drop your grocery bags, your groceries spilling out of the bag. You cursed under your breath when you realised you were just a few metres away from your home. 

If only I had walked slightly faster... Maybe it’s time to hit the gym.

Just then, from the corner of your eyes, you manage to catch flashes of black running past you, each shouting incoherent words. 

With the annoyance of being pushed out of the way so close to your home and seeing your groceries spilt all out on the road, you open your mouth to shout at the group of men when you finally grasp what one of the men was saying, causing your blood to run cold. 

“I think he ran into that alley! Quickly, fuck, we’ve got to finish him today or we won’t get another chance to!”

Finish..... him?

You stand rooted to the ground as the words continuously echo in your ears. There was going to be a murder happening in the alleyway seven metres away from you and you were going to be the only one who knows about it. 

The rational part of your brain was screaming at you to just walk straight ahead and into the safety of your home which meant that you were less likely to be murdered; but the other reckless part of your brain was tapping into the humane part of you, telling you that you would be as bad as the murderers if you left the poor soul alone without even trying to help. 

Damn you, rational part of my brain.

With your mind clearly made up, you walk slowly towards the alleyway, gripping your grocery bags tightly so that the plastic does not create any rustling noises that would give away your unwanted presence. Sticking out your head as much as you could without being seen, you slowly take in the sight in front of you. 

There were four men—who very much resembled heavyweight champions— crowding around a shorter man, who fell short by a large margin in comparison to the other four. His blonde hair blending in effortlessly with his pale skin, almost making it seem like he was emitting a glow in contrast to the dark alleyway. With the way you saw the four men cornering the smaller man, you knew that he stood no chance that night. 

At the sound of the men’s voices, your ears perk up, trying to catch as much as you could. 

“...Boss is going to be really happy...”

“...there is no way you can escape now since you’re alone...”

“... SKZ is about to lose their leader...”

Panic fills you once again as you realise that you were running out of time to help the blonde man. Unable to hear his response (”it was probably just him begging for mercy,”  you thought), you bravely—or some would say, dumbly—call out to the group in the alleyway, finally revealing yourself at the entrance, hands gripping the plastic bags.

“Hey!”

At the sound of your voice, five heads turn towards you almost simultaneously. If this was any other situation, you were sure you would have laughed out loud. But now that you knew the gravity of the situation, all you could do was gulp and pretend you were strong so that some miracle could happen and you could live to the ripe old age of 80 with the love of your life and five children. 

“What the fuck do you want?” 

Starting to freak out at the tone of one of the men, you curse yourself out in your head for not thinking of a proper plan before jumping in to save that man. Frantically, your hands search your jeans and jacket when you feel a bottle in the jacket that you didn’t bother to clear out before wearing it out for grocery shopping.

Pepper spray. 

Feeling braver almost instantaneously, you clear your throat and call out to the men loudly, making sure they couldn’t hear the distinct quiver in your voice. 

“Let the man go,” you say as loudly as you could, fists curling into balls to make sure no part of you gave away the fact that you were shaking on the spot. “Now.”

Unsurprisingly, you’re met with loud guffawing, the four men clearly thinking you were a joke. A pawn that could be destroyed with just one move.

And they weren’t wrong.

“Let the man go or what? What are you gonna do, little bitch? Go cry to mummy?” one thug asked, triggering another round of laughter from the other three. “Well now that you’re you’ve seen us, we’ll just have to take care of you after we’re done with this scum over here.”

As he says that, you see another thug pull out what looked a lot like a knife, the silver glimmering under the strong moonlight. All you had to do was turn on your heel and run out as fast as you could without looking back and you had a chance of surviving, but your feet were not cooperating. It was like all thought was wiped out from your brain—including the knowledge of how to coordinate your limbs to get you the fuck out of there. 

As the knife was passed to the thug holding the blonde man down, you instinctively rush forward, swinging your bags around in hopes of inflicting some kind of pain that will give the both of you some leeway to get out of that alley. 

The resounding sound of metal hitting a surface rings in your ear, followed by a loud “Ouch”, satisfying you as your planned seemed to be working. 

Dropping your groceries and grabbing the blonde man’s hand, your other free hand grabs the pepper spray out of your pocket, and you blindly spray it around in unnecessary amounts, running out of the alley with the man when you’re sure you’ve blinded at least one of the thugs. 

Dragging the man behind you, you run as fast you can towards your apartment, not sparing a second glance behind you in fear that the thugs would be there.

You fumble with your keys and practically jam the right one into the keyhole, throwing the door open and locking yourselves in. 

Hunching over in pain due to a nasty stitch you acquired from the sudden exercise, you finally get a good look at the blonde standing in front of you.

He wasn’t very tall—definitely average—albeit still taller than you. Some might have mistaken him for Snow White with how pale he was. He was wearing an all black outfit, causing his skin and hair to stand out a lot more than usual. 

With how much you were analysing him, you fail to notice the hard stare he was giving you.

“Are you stupid?” is the first thing that comes out of his mouth. No heartfelt “thank you for saving my life”. None of that. Just him questioning the functionality of your brain. 

“Excuse me?!”

Stitch forgotten, you straighten your back while staring at the ungrateful idiot in front of you, mouth agape. You risked your life to save this asshole, and this is the gratitude you receive?

“I said what I said. I could’ve easily taken care of them and you ruined everything,” he deadpans, walking up and down your carpeted floor, massaging his temple. “Are you always this dumb, or did you just forget to drink your smart juice today? I mean, which dumbass just rushes into a dark alleyway without any help whatsoever?” 

“Hey, you better watch it!” you finally retort loudly. “Of course I didn’t stop to think, you were in fucking danger! Be grateful I even stepped in to try and help when I could have just walked away and let you take those 4 thugs by yourself. You wouldn’t even have stood a chance.”

He looks at you with flashing eyes right as you finish your angry speech; and you don’t have to try too hard to imagine the steam shooting out of his ears.

Just as he opens his mouth to fire another sarcastic comment, a series of loud bangs resound throughout your apartment. Your head shoots up towards your door, as the realisation dawns on you

Someone was trying to break down your door.

You rush over to the window and peek through the curtain and to your horror, you see the four thugs you had encountered—together with another four new men. They were back and definitely angrier than before.

“We’re gonna die!” you whisper-shout, shaking the man’s hand frantically as you look up at him. “I should’ve just left you in the alleyway.”

He rolls his eyes as he looks at you, pushing your hand off of him as he surveys your apartment.

“You go over and hide under that table over there.” he says, as he points to your desk that was tucked away far into the corner. “Don’t come out until I tell you to do so.”

You obediently nod and rush over to your table, wincing as you hear the door struggling to keep itself together, pieces of wood dropping onto your carpeted floor.  

It’s gonna cost me a bomb to fix that...

Quickly crouching under your table as far as you could, you watch as blondie (that’s what you decided to call him until you find out his name) opens the door for the eight men, smirk ever-present on his face.

Why is that idiot smirking?! He’s about to get killed and he’s smirking?

“Now, why don’t we skip the part where you yack till my ear bleeds and get on with the fight?” blondie asks, an air of confidence and pride surrounding him.

Without any warning three men rush towards him at the same time, flicking out knives and other weapons that you had never before seen in your life. Unable to watch the gruesome scene that was awaiting to happen, you shut your eyes tight, relying on your sense of hearing to alert you. 

You hear the clattering of knives, shortly followed by the sound of skin on bone contact, and finally, you hear the thud of human bodies hitting your floor. 

Without opening your eyes, you hear the sound of feet walking towards you, causing you to push yourself against the wall, hoping the thugs don’t find you under the table. You weren’t the best at handling pain, and you definitely didn’t want to know what was going to happen if they catch you. 

Instead of rough hands pulling you out from your hiding place as you had expected, you are met with soft hands grabbing your wrist, slowly pulling you out of your hiding place. You finally open your eyes, and you’re shocked by the scene that met you.

All eight thugs were laying on the ground, some groaning in pain, while some were deadly still. You really didn’t want to know what had happened to those who weren’t moving. 

“I told you I could handle it.”

Your eyes snap up towards the man beside you, your perspective of him completely changing as you view him in a different light. 

He no longer looked like a man who needed saving in your eyes. Instead, you could sense an aura of danger surrounding him. You imagine him sitting at the top of the throne, crown high on his head, as he ordered people left and right. Suddenly, you’re not sure who the most dangerous man standing in the room was anymore. 

“W-who are you?” you finally manage to stutter out, unconsciously taking a few steps away from him, wanting to put more distance between the both of you.

“I’m the man that just saved your life, so some gratitude would be nice,” he taunts, hinting at your earlier conversation. “My name is Bang Chan, and I am also the leader of the most sought after gang, SKZ. But you can call me Chan.”

Taking in as much as you could from that few words he had just uttered, the last thing you remember is whispering an “oh my God”, before falling to the ground, your surroundings turning black. 

✼ •• ┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈ •• ✼

You wake up to the sound of whispering all around you, your eyes squinting because of the bright light situated right above you. You whine out loud— annoyed that your rest had been interrupted by the constant whispering— abruptly being met with silence.

Raising your head slowly, you look around the place, expecting to be met with your blue curtains drawn fully, and your cluttered vanity, but instead you’re met with deep red curtains and nine people staring down at you; seven very unfamiliar and curious faces, and two familiar and worried faces. 

As your brain registers the two familiar faces in front of you, you sit up quickly, dread filling you as memories of what happened before you passed out comes rushing in. 

Just then, you realise who that one familiar face belonged to.

“They kidnapped you too?!” you scream at your college friend, immediately rushing over to him and pulling him away from the rest of them. “Are you hurt?”

As you are busy running your eyes over him, Changbin shifts around uncomfortably, trying to think of ways to break the news to you. 

“U-uh Y/n... They didn’t kidnap me,” he starts, catching your attention. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, waiting for him to then explain what the fuck he was doing there if he wasn’t kidnapped like you were. “I’m part of the gang, Y/n. I’m part of SKZ.”

[oliverwxod]

Just a little bit of your heart (Bucky Barnes) - Prologue

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Its kind of a frat boy!Bucky fic but he’s not really the stereotypical kind xx

Warnings: slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, broken families, pinning and angst

Summary: Y/n and Steve have been best friends since birth, it was only natural they went to the same college. Bucky is Steve’s room mate who has a big reputation around campus as being the typical college fuck boy. Bucky has never been in a committed relationship and he wants to turn his image around and become serious. When Steve starts blowing Y/n off, Bucky and Y/n come to an agreement to help each other out of their situations. 

A/N: Okay so this is a new fic I'm writing, this is just a section that basically explains what the whole pic is about, also the new update makes the format look terrible on mobile so I'm sorry about that. TAGS ARE OPEN SO MESSAGE ME IF YA WANNA BE TAGGED xxx

Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2

Saturday nights were a huge thing to Y/n and Steve. They had been best friends since birth, spending almost everyday attached to one another, it wasn’t a surprise they ended up attending the same college. It was rare to ever see one without the other, almost everyone on campus knew that and they were rooting for them to finally make an official couple. 

"What are you doing here?" Bucky asked, opening the apartment door wide, face etched with a concerned frown.

"Hello to you too" she spoke walking straight past him happily, her grin tugging at her face in excitement. Bucky watched her go, confused, why was she so happy? Steve wasn’t even home.  

 "Steves not here" Bucky spoke following her into the kitchen, where she had placed a couple of full plastic bags on the kitchen island. 

"Well I thought I'd surprise him after work, cook him his favourite food because he's been so distracted recently, thought he could do with a night off, plus he always cooks dinner for me." she shrugged. She was so proud of herself for the idea to surprise her best friend, knowing he was going through a stressful time recently.

"Y/n... Steve left work early and he's on a date right now" Bucky said almost hesitantly, he wasn’t sure if she knew or not, or if Steve told her and she had forgotten. Steve normally told her everything.

She stopped her actions, coming to a still before facing his with a bemused look, a twisted smile replacing the previous grin.

 "What?" She was taken aback, he could tell, Y/n had been and always would be an open book to anyone and everyone, you didn’t even have to know her to tell what she was feeling, it showed on her face.

 "He's on a date. Did he not tell you?" Bucky asked surprised but catching on to the fact Steve had in fact not told her, he hated to be the one to break the news to her, knowing how important Saturday nights were to Y/n and Steve. 

It was unusual for the pair of them to be apart on a Saturday night and it rarely happened, it had been a tradition since they were kids, the only exceptions being family holidays. 

"Uh... I must have forgotten" she spoke looking away and shaking her head, giving out a laugh to try and hide the disappointment she was really feeling, but it was too late. 

Although they weren't exactly friends, only knowing each other through Bucky being Steve’s room mate, Bucky wasn't a heartless person. He could tell she was upset, playing it off like it was nothing.

 "You didn't know." He stated the obvious, no matter how convincing Y/n was trying to be.

She nodded silently. 

"Oh well. It's about time he finds someone serious.." She trailed off. She looked at the bag of food she had placed on the counter, now feeling silly and maybe a bit humiliated, the bag sat on the counter mocking her as she tried to think of something to say to break the awkwardness slowly surrounding them.

"You hungry?" She asked. 

Bucky nodded awkwardly, never really having spoken to Y/n for more than a couple minutes. "starving" He spoke, the truth was Bucky had already eaten, but he knew she could use some cheering up, even if he didn’t really know her.

"Good, I hope you like Pasta" she spoke. 

He nodded, going into the fridge and pulling out two beers, handing her one. He could do this, he thought. He could spend time with one of Steve’s friends and help cheer her up.

Bucky had a reputation around campus. He was the quiet, mysterious frat boy who went to the biggest most talked about parties of the week, he was the guy who could hold his drink until he was many Russian vodka shots in. He was the guy who had slept with a lot of the girls around campus, the man who could not be and would not be tied down by anyone, no matter how many dates he went on or how hard people tried to change him. But nobody really knew anything about him. No one knew the real him. 

“It’s my go to” He spoke, giving her a small smile.

 She nodded appreciatively at him as he stood, watching her work her way around their kitchen as if it were her own. 

"So... how long have you been in love with Steve for?" Bucky was shocked at his own words that fell from his lips. 

She choked on her beer staring wide eyed at him. No one had ever asked her such a bold question and the last person she was expecting it from was Bucky. 

"W-what! I don't... I- why would you say -” she sighed, putting her beer down on the counter and frowning at her own stuttering. “Is it that obvious?"

 Bucky nodded smirking. “Yep"

 "Shit. Does he- do you think he knows?" she asked, feeling pathetic that Bucky had seen her be blown off by Steve for a date and now finding out she had loved Steve since they were kids.

"No. He definitely doesn't know" Bucky spoke. They decided to leave the conversation at that, both of them silently agreeing not to bring it up again. 

"Surprised you're not out tonight" she spoke, as she pushed a couple pieces of pasta around her plate, her appetite had diminished since the moment she learn’t that Steve wasn’t in. 

"Well... I’m trying to clean up my act. Realised I'm getting no where In life drinking and partying... plus I think I've slept with most people who go to revs, it's getting too awkward to go there now" he stated, giving her a small smirk. Y/n appreciated his efforts in trying to cheer her up, she could tell he was bitter about his so-called reputation. 

 "Charming" she spoke laughing. 

"Don't know how long I'll be able to last until I give in" Bucky spoke eyebrows pulling into a mocking look. "a man has needs" he shrugged as her face was twisted in a wry smile.

 "At least you're trying... Maybe... maybe we could help each other?" She spoke carefullynbefore cursing herself for not thinking before speaking. 

"Woah... What do you mean?" Bucky asked looking taken aback as his mind jumped to conclusions. 

"Well I need to move on and you need to stop sleeping around and find someone serious... We could help each other out!" the idea was sounding great in her head, she just wasn’t putting it across in the best way. 

 "How?" 

"We can wing man each other. I'll help you find the perfect girl, you help me find  someone who doesn’t want commitment so I can get over Steve, and I can stop you from having sex with strangers!" 

"Doll, are you suggesting we sleep together?" He asked amused. 

"What!" She looked shocked, partly because of the name he just called her and partly because of his absurd conclusion. "no! I didn't mean it like that. I just meant I can help you clean up your reputation around campus by helping you find someone serious and you can wingman me to help me find someone I can have meaningless sex with to get over Steve.”

"Okay I see what you're saying" he spoke nodding briefly as he thought about it. He wasn’t sure he could actually clean up his act but he could always give it a go.

"And?"

 "It could work" he shrugged. 

“So do we have a deal?” she asked, now fully discarding her fork and standing up to throw the rest of her food into the bin.

“We have a deal” Bucky replied, standing up to put his bowl in the sink. 

“good” she spoke, meeting his eyes. 

“great” he smiled, chuckling slightly. 

Bucky couldn’t understand how he had gotten himself into a deal with Steve’s best friend who before tonight he had barely spoken more than 5 sentences to. 

TAGS: I hate myself for starting a new series before finishing another one, I'm sorry, let me know if you don’t wanna be tagged xxx

Forever baes (let me know if you don’t wanna be tagged in this fic): 

@dreambigbeawesome @hellosafie @linheliano @extreme-supernatural-lover @thisismysecrethappyplace @mannls @1elboomdemsechevarria @what-the-hell-is–a-hufflepuff @myrabbitholetoneverland @jbarnes87 @permanent-lines @alyssaj23 @piensa-bonito @maresmiley @soldierplum @jjsoccer11 @les-bio-lie @dewy-biitch @despelllestrange @kingdomcage @unlikelygalaxygiver @hiddles-rose @httpmcrvel @breezy1415 @artisticlales @imthegirlyourparentswarnedyouof @maladaptive-ninja-returns @xinyourdreamsx 

Bucky Barnes tags: 

@tranquility-or-chaos @analovesseb @jamesbarnesappreciationsociety @australianhorrorstory @chloe-skywalker @bexboo616 @adamsbubblegumbitch