#there are some days when pulling out all the angsty stops just makes sense

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

Aftercare with Jake makes me think of safeword with Jake but I don't wanna be too angsty with dropping ideas💕💕💕 I just keep thinking he's so soft all the time and I fucking love it☺️☺️

ahhh first of all thank you for the request and also thank you for being so considerate! i'm really not much of an angst writer so i do appreciate staying soft and cozy and comfortable. still the safeword talk is IMPORTANT and jake would 100% make sure there is a safeword if he ever got rougher. there was a reason after all why i wrote him holding back so much in the oneshot

tw!! smutttttt. smut.

top gun masterlist | top gun blurbs

You're naked and begging already when he brings it up for the first time.

It's early in the relationship, early in the evening. He's just come back from work and good lord, you've been waiting so eagerly for him to get home the whole fucking day that by the time he's walked through the doorframe, you've already soaked through your panties. Within the span of two minutes, you have him out of his clothes and in your bed.

He's between your legs first. He's between your legs for so long you have to tug him off after your second orgasm, because as much as you enjoy that he's so keen on eating you out properly, you need him inside you. You need him to fuck you.

He's got your legs wrapped around his waist a few minutes later, wrapped around him as he thrusts deep inside you and kisses you, all open mouths slotted against each other. He swallows your mewls, swallows your moans. And then he almost swallows your very first "Harder".

It's small, it's tiny, it's so low he barely picks up on it. But you whimper and repeat, "Please, Jake, harder", before he can even ask you to.

"You sure, baby?", he grunts, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. His voice is so deep you clench around him as you nod, mindless and dazed.

"Please", you moan, your teeth digging into your lip hard enough to draw blood. "Don't wanna walk tomorrow."

He lets out a breathless chuckle and brushes a strand of hair away from your face, sticky and sweaty, clinging to your skin. You flash him a fucked-out grin that tugs at his heart as he slows his thrusts and drops a kiss to your lips.

"Alright", he smiles. "On one condition."

You'd give him anything. You'd give him everything. So really, it's impossible not to agree - not to nod your head at him, all flushed and eager, willing to do whatever he wants to ask of you.

His grin widens. Then he pulls out and tears a miserable little mewl right from your lips, one that escapes you almost accidentally. It's pathetic, really, how much you want him, how much you need him. But he's already smoothing his palms down your thighs as he sits back on his ankles and presses a quick kiss to your stomach.

One condition.

"You pick a safeword", he says, and his tone already tells you there's no way he'd let you argue you don't need one even if you wanted to. "And if it's ever, ever too much, you say it and I'll stop. Immediately. Alright, darling?"

You hardly manage to push the 'alright' past your lips with his hands running up and down your scorching skin, but some part of your brain does seem to still be working, because you do succeed in plucking a word from your fuzzy, hazy mind that makes at least some sense to use.

It's not really a help that Jake is trailing kisses up your stomach, or that he swipes his tongue over your nipple just as you want to breathe out the one word your mind has managed to conjure, but it's certainly a worthwile reward when he turns you over after - turns you over and fucks you from behind, with his hand fisting your hair, your cheek smushed against the pillow and your back arching, arching, arching for him.

[wolfmoonmusic]

hiiii!!! can u do a valentine’s day angsty post where james and y/n are in a secret relationship because she’s a hufflepuff but he flirts with lily and gets her flowers on valentines so he doesn’t cause suspicion u get upset and cry and break up with him and he tries to win u back but remus gets u flowers and kinda helps u get over james??🤭🤭🤭 if u don’t wanna do this it’s totally okay!! love ur work<3

Secrecy:

A/N: This was so painful to write. But, it was also super fun.

Summary: You love James Potter and would do anything for him, including keeping your relationship an absolute secret. However, he may not feel the same.

Pairing: James Potter x Hufflepuff!reader, Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff!reader

w/c: 3600+

Masterlist

Taglist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ <3

The room of requirements had a lot of uses.

“Jamie, stop it!” you giggled as your boyfriend peppered your face with kisses. He pulled away grinning, “What? I’ve missed you!” 

You shook your head, a sad smile taking over the grin you’d had before. “You wouldn’t have to miss me, if people knew about us,” you said, your hands fixing his hair, and adjusting his glasses. “If at least your friends knew,” you added, now fixing your own robes.

James closed his eyes, tilting his head back. “We’ve talked about this n/n,” he whined, cupping your face. His eyes searched yours, “I-I’ve told you, they can’t know.”

You shook your head, “You’ve never told me why, James.” You pulled his hands away from your face, bending down to pick up your bag, the next period would start soon. You tried to ignore how your chest tightened.

When James didn’t respond, bending down to pick his own bag up, you sighed. Everytime over the past few months that you’d had this conversation, it ended the same way. Sometimes, you wondered, if he was embarrassed of you, but it made no sense, because all of his friends loved hanging out with you.

Or so you thought. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

“I-I just need you to trust me,” he said softly, adjusting his bag straps. You just stared at him blankly. It was scary how used to this you were by now. 

“Right,” you whispered, before stepping past him and leaving.

He didn’t follow you. He never did.

When James had first told you he liked you, he’d also mentioned a need to keep it private. You’d wholeheartedly agreed at first, maybe he just didn’t want his friends all over the two of you. However, that didn’t make sense either. Sirius had openly teased the both of you on some occasions, when James had one too many drinks, and got a little too touchy around you. 

Of course, it happened only when he was drunk.

As days turned into weeks, you started wondering if he ever planned on telling at least his friends. He never got too close to you whenever you were around them. In fact, he’d barely even look at you. It was Remus who was always around you, talking and making you laugh.

If James hadn’t asked you out first, Remus might’ve been the one you were with.

He always made you feel wanted. In a way James never had. 

The worst part was that Valentine’s Day was tomorrow. And James hadn’t even brought it up. Even when you’d asked him, he’d just shrugged and said “I’ll come up with something.”

You definitely didn’t miss the way his friends kept pushing him towards Lily Evans. Or how he seemed to be subtly flirting with her, every time you looked at him when you were in public.

At first you would cry in your dorm room, unable to tell anyone about how you felt, because no matter how much you hated it, you still felt obliged to keep it a secret. Over time, you learnt to shrug it off, allowing the pain to grow in your chest. You didn’t know what it was like to go through a day without that crushing sensation.

Sometimes you wished you weren’t that nice. 

As you entered class, you weren’t expecting Remus to excitedly wave you over, Sirius turning away from his friend to smile at you as well.

You couldn’t even avoid them, it’d seem suspicious. You plastered on a fake smile, making your way over to the boys.

“Hey Y/N,” they both chorused. 

“Hello,” you responded, settling down next to Remus. He held out a chocolate in the palm of his hand, and you gladly accepted, muttering a simple thanks.

This is what it was like to be around Remus. It wasn’t the constant fear of someone finding out. It didn’t come with the thoughts swarming in your head.

Your eyes found James walking into class, hesitating, for just a moment when he saw you, before his face returned to normal and he took a seat beside Sirius.

Of course, he didn’t give you a second glance.

Class started, causing you to shift your focus on your professor. You hated how routine it had all become. 

How unaffected you were.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you were walking back to your dorm, you felt someone grab your hand, pulling you behind a wall. 

“Y/N, don’t be mad,” James whispered. You stared at him blankly, before sighing softly. “How long?” you asked, staring directly into his eyes, hoping that you could decipher what was going on. He gulped, looking away for a minute, before his eyes landed on you again. “I-I don’t know,” he said, immediately looking down at his shoes.

You tried to blink away the gathering tears, nodding. “Look, James, I like being your girlfriend. But, I hate being your secret,” you said. His eyes snapped up to meet yours, full of panic. “You’re not my secret,” he said firmly, his eyes filled with confidence. You almost believed him.

Almost.

You scoffed. “Right because this,” you said, gesturing to your hiding spot, “doesn’t indicate that you’re hiding me.”

“No, no I-” he sighed frustratedly, a hand running through his hair. 

“I’ll see you in the Gryffindor common room in the evening. I’m studying with Remus. You,” you jabbed a finger at his chest, “can ignore me as usual.”

With that, you left, unable to hold the onslaught of tears any longer. As the hot tears streamed down your face, you started running, picking up more speed as the feeling in your chest grew. You didn’t care that people were staring. You didn’t care that you could get into trouble. You just needed to get away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn’t go to class. You didn’t go to lunch. You sat in your room all day pondering your situation. It hurt you to think about it. You’d been so happy in the beginning, an amazing boyfriend, good friends, you had it all. But slowly, your sudden disappearances had increased, and you couldn’t explain it to your friends. You’d even missed your roommate's cake cutting on her birthday because you’d run off to find James.

They barely even talked to you now.

You sniffled, hearing voices as your roommates piled in, barely acknowledging you. You watched as they walked right past you, only one of them, Rose, the one who’s birthday you missed, paused to give you a sad smile, before joining the others in their discussion.

You couldn’t handle the pain anymore. It enveloped you completely, the numbness taking over. You quietly got up, leaving the room. Anywhere was better than here. 

As you got to your common room, you realized all the classes were over for the day. Your eyes scanned the room, as you tried to ignore the fact that you were supposed to be with Remus now. You didn’t want to go. James would be there.

But, you’d promised Remus yesterday. 

You sighed, deciding you had to go, leaving the common room, with no one to stop you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The second you entered the common room, Remus called you over. Unfortunately, he was sitting with his friends. Including your boyfriend.

You walked over, ignoring the way James watched you, eyes trained on Remus. “Hi Remmy,” you said softly, taking a seat next to him. “Hello love. Are you alright? You weren’t in Defense Against the Dark Arts today,” he asked, brows furrowed together in concern. 

Did James even realize?

You nodded quietly, “Just needed to get away from everything for a while y’know?” 

Remus nodded, understanding taking over his features. 

“You don’t have your books,” Sirius pointed out.

You froze, you’d been so worked up that you hadn’t even realized.

“I - uh”

“ ‘S alright love, we can share,” Remus interrupted, passing his book over to you.

You smiled gratefully, “Thanks Moony.”

You knew James was watching you, but you didn’t look at him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. It hurt too much.

“Oh! I heard someone’s secret relationship was found out!” Sirius suddenly exclaimed.

You couldn’t process what he’d just said. Did he - did he know?

“Who?” you heard James ask. Your eyes snapped to him, but he was looking at Sirius, face seeming amused.

Was he not worried? Or did he not care? Or…was he so sure that it wasn’t about you two?

However Sirius just shrugged, “Don’t know, don’t care,” he pointed at the three of you, “however I think whoever it was is an absolute coward.”

Remus looked up from his book, “Coward?”

Sirius hummed in response. “You like someone enough to date them, why would you keep it quiet?” he asked, now looking at you, “If you’re not embarrassed or if it’s not forbidden love or something right n/n?” You were caught off guard by the question. 

The way he looked at you made you feel as if he knew more than he was letting on. 

“I uh-. Yeah, yeah, why would you?” you asked in response, looking at James. At this point, you didn’t care if someone suspected something. You wanted an answer.

James’s eyes widened in shock. “I-” 

The three of you were looking at him now. “You shouldn’t. Not if you care about the person enough,” he muttered, looking at everyone but you.

You didn’t stop the tears from flowing. “I- I have to go,” you whispered, before running out. 

Did he not care enough then? If that was just a response, framed to keep people from guessing, how far was he willing to go to keep this a secret?

You ran all the way to your dorm room, ignoring the way your roommates were looking at you with concern, before jumping on the bed, hiding your face in the pillow, and sobbing. 

None of them came to ask you what was wrong. Of course they didn’t. You hadn’t been there for them, constantly putting James first. 

The James that always seemed to put you last.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You woke up in the morning, eyes puffy and head hurting. You hadn’t even changed into your pajamas. You groaned, sitting up slowly, eyes closed, as the events of the day before, flooded into your head.

“Hi.”

You opened your eyes, finding Rose sitting on your bed, a soft smile on her face.

“Hi?” you said, shocked that she was even talking to you. 

“You came in, a mess last night,” she laughed lightly.

You could feel your cheeks heating up in embarrassment . She moved closer to you, placing a hand on your knee. “What’s going on?” she asked, voice filled with concern. 

You were surprised that she’d even asked. “I missed your birthday?” you asked in response, unable to form an actual sentence.

She laughed again, “I know you Y/N. You wouldn’t have done that unless something was going on.”

You felt your eyes water again. “You really want to know?” you asked, your voice shaking. She simply nodded, waiting for you to continue.

You hesitated, unsure if you should tell her, but as the pain in your chest continued to grow with every second, you realized you needed to let it out.

So you did.

You told her everything. From the very beginning, to the conversation you’d had yesterday.

The second you’d finished, she engulfed you in a hug. “Oh n/n, you don’t deserve that,” she said, pulling away.

“But I mean, what I don't get is, why?” you whispered.

“I don’t know love, but you have to tell him,” she said sternly.

“Tell him what?” you asked, afraid of what she was going to say.

“That if he wants to stay with you, he should be willing to be open about it. Not PDA level but you know what I mean,” she said, taking your hands in hers.

You nodded. She was right. Absolutely right.

You had to tell him now. Why not? It was Valentine’s? It was perfect.

“I’ll tell him right now,” you said, getting off the bed.

Rose gripped your hand. “Not like this you’re not,” she told you, looking you up and down.

You laughed in embarrassment, “Right.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rose had helped you get ready, even helping you out with a bit of makeup. 

So now, as you sped across the halls, you were feeling confident. You were sure you mattered to him, so you didn’t worry too much about the conversation you were about to have. You were feeling good.

But then you heard the name Potter coming out of a certain redhead’s mouth. You came to a halt, turning to look at the scene behind you.

Lily Evans was holding a bouquet in her hands, blushing profusely. 

“I can’t believe he actually knows what flowers you like!” her friend exclaimed.

Lily nodded, “He might be a prick sometimes, but he really is good at this.”

Your heart dropped.

It can’t be.

You walked over to her clearing your throat. “Um, Lily?” you called, causing the girl to turn to you.

“Oh hey Y/N!” she smiled warmly. You returned it with a weak smile of your own, “I was just wondering,” you said shakily, pointing to the flowers, “who gave you those?” 

She grinned, “James Potter. As thick headed as he is, he’s also a sweetheart.”

You felt like you’d been kicked in the stomach, the color draining from your face. 

“You alright?” she asked, noticing the way your hands were shaking.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah of course. Have a nice day,” you said, quickly turning around and bolting. 

You had someone to go meet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“James!” you yelled, barging into the Gryffindor common room. Sirius, Peter and Remus, and James all turned to look at you. Luckily there was no one else there.

Though, to be honest, you wouldn’t have cared.

You were tired of hiding.

“You gave Lily flowers?” you said, walking up to your boyfriend. 

He stood up, eyes wide. 

“Of course he did! Are you oblivious to how he’s head over heels for her?” Sirius interjected, confused as to why you were so angry.

You ignored him, eyes trained on your boyfriend.

“I-”

“Well? Did you? Or is she lying to me?” you asked, your eyes watering.

“Y/N”

“I swear to god James if you try to hide this even now, I will not hesitate to slap you.”

You could see how panicked James was. But you didn’t care. You were hurt beyond repair.

He closed his eyes, cursing under his breath.

“I did,” he whispered.

Hot tears streamed down your face.

“But I swear,” he said, opening his eyes, “ I only did it to keep people off of us.” He tried to reach for your hand, but you pushed him away.

“Why?” you sobbed. Your chest felt like it was being crushed. Your heart, breaking into tinier pieces by the minute.

James huffed. “Because,” he started throwing his hands up in the air, “Because you’re a Hufflepuff!” he yelled.

You staggered back, the shock of the revelation came like a blow.

“What?” you whispered.

“Mate, what’s going on?” Remus asked, walking over to stand next to you.

James just shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Love,” Remus turned to you, a gentle hand on your shoulder, “what’s going on?” he asked.

Sirius stepped forward, “James fucked up, that’s what’s going on,” he supplied.

You and James looked at him in shock.

“I saw you both kissing a few days back,” he explained. “It completely threw me off, because Prongs here,” he threw an arm around James’s shoulder, “has been head over heels for Evans since first year.”

First year?

“However, he did tell us about catching feelings for you last year, though we thought it subsided because he never mentioned it again. Of course, I found out only recently that he didn’t mention it, because he was too up in his head about the whole ‘Gryffindor being a superior house’ thing,” Sirius said, making air quotes. You stared at James, not knowing how to process the information being dealt out.

“Then I saw you both snogging each other before Charms one day, and decided to bring it up. James however said you were just friends. But he wouldn’t shut up about how in love he was with Evans. Meaning one of two things,” Sirius said, moving away from James, holding out both his hands.

“One,” he said, lifting his left hand up, “James was using you to get the attention he wanted because Lily wasn’t paying him regard,” James opened his mouth to say something but Sirius cut him off, “but, James isn’t a prick. He wouldn’t do that.” Sirius said, lowering his hand. “Which could only mean,” he lifted his right hand now, “that James did in fact like you, but he couldn’t give up completely on Lily, and,” he paused, pointing to James, “he feels too superior about his house, as always.”

You blinked multiple times, trying to understand what Sirius had just said. 

He’d known yesterday. And he’d been trying to warn you.

“Y/N-” James started.

“Don’t. Don’t James. Don’t open your mouth and try to explain. You’ll only make it worse,” you seethed. Your hurt had completely transformed into anger.

“We’re done. Go on and snog Lily in front of everyone, yeah? She’s in Gryffindor,” you glared at him, before storming out of the common room, ignoring his protests.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You’d spent the entire day in your room. Thinking, crying, and thinking some more. You’d told Rose, and then also told her you needed some alone time.

She’d been doing a great job at keeping everyone away.

Until now that is.

You heard a soft knock on your dorm room door.

“Please, not now,” you called out, hoping the person would go away.

“I uh- It’s me, Remus,” a soft, uncertain, voice called back.

Your eyes widened and you quickly got off the bed, opening the door to your visitor.

“Remus?” you asked, surprised.

He smiled at you warmly. “Hello love, may I come in?” he asked. You nodded, stepping aside to let him. You closed the door again, watching as he gently placed his bag on the floor before sitting on your bed.

“I had to bribe Rose with 2 weeks of free chocolates,” he laughed.

For the first time in hours, you felt a smile creep up onto your face. “Aww, you did that for me?” you teased, settling down in front of him.

“I’d do anything for you,” he said, quietly. 

You froze, a warmth coating your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

He sighed, “James is- He’s an idiot. To hurt you like that. It’s-” he shook his head, “It’s fucked up and not fair on you. If I was him, I’d be showing you off,” he said, reaching over to place his hand on your knee.

You felt goosebumps erupt all over you at his touch.

“Even if I’m a hufflepuff?” you smiled sadly.

“Even if you’re a Hufflepuff,” Remus nodded, before adding, “In fact, I’m happy you’re not a Gryffindor, I know too many Gryffindors,” he laughed.

You felt yourself relax at the comforting sound, a small chuckle slipping past your lips as well. 

Remus bent over, searching through his bag before presenting a bouquet of (your favorite flowers).

Your jaw dropped in shock. “I- Are these for me?” you asked, reaching out slowly.

Remus nodded, “Just for you,” he said.

You pulled them close to your face, inhaling the fresh scent. “I love it, Moony, thank you,” you whispered. 

Remus just stared at you, his brown eyes filled with love. For a second, he looked away, as if pondering something, before his eyes landed on his hands. You watched as played with his sweater, shrugging, before taking in a deep breath, and looking into your eyes.

“I know it might be too early, but do you think- would you maybe- I don’t know how to say it,” he sighed, looking away.

You knew what it was immediately. Did you want it? Yes, so very badly. Because you were confident that Remus would treat you right. Even Rose thought so.

He knew you better than James ever had.

“Just say it Remmy,” you said, placing the flowers next to you, before taking his hands in yours.

He looked at you, staring into your eyes. You felt your heart pick up speed, thumping loud against your ribcage.

He shook his head, looking away again, unable to keep eye contact for long. 

You moved closer to him, knitting your hands together, sitting knee to knee. 

“I’d love to be your girlfriend. We- We’ll have to take it slow, but I’d absolutely love to do that Remus,” you said.

He gently untangled your arms, and worry took over. Is that not what he wanted?

But then, his lips were on yours, his hands on your waist, and your head was on cloud nine.

It wasn’t rushed, he took his time, savoring every second. It wasn’t mixed with the fear of being caught. Or the pain of knowing you wouldn’t get it again for a while.

No. You couldn’t think. Your heart took over your body, as you pushed back. Every fiber of your being, lighting up with joy.

It was like your first kiss all over again.

Until, someone threw the door open, and you almost feared how Remus would react.

But he didn’t recoil, or act like nothing had happened. He just backed away, shocked, one hand still on your waist, as the other ran through his hair, eyes closed as he let out a small airy chuckle. 

It was Rose. She was grinning. “I knew it!” she pumped her fist in the air. 

Remus laughed, shaking his head, “Now will you leave us alone? Unless you want to watch?” he asked, eyebrows raised. 

Rose’s eyes widened, and she held her hand up in defense, “No sir,” she said, before leaving, closing the door behind her, causing you to giggle.

Remus turned to you, smiling, pressing his forehead against yours.

“Promise we won’t be a secret?” You whispered.

“I promise,” he responded, pressing his lips to your forehead.

And he stuck to that promise, ‘till your heart went still.

[lieslab]

Oranges to orange juice

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Hyunjin X gn reader

Summary: Disordered eating is hard and when Hyunjin overhears you throwing up in the bathroom, he snaps.

Genre: Angst & comfort/hurt

Word Count: 2.8K

Trigger warning: Disordered eating, binging, purging, starving, mentions of vomiting, over-exercising, calorie counting, and a binge eating episode.

A/N: Requestee, I can't lie to you, every time I sat down to write this, I couldn't find the words because this hits a little too close to home. This was one of the hardest things that I've ever had to force myself to write. I tried to make it angsty, but it also felt entirely wrong to do that, so I gave it a happier ending. I hope you like it <3

_ _ _

How did it go so wrong? When did food start to become the enemy? When did substance become poison? How did something, supposed to fill and nurture you, start to craft more evil in your brain than anything else? When did the line between harm and health become blurred? 

Over consumption. Starvation. Fall into a binge cycle and purge it back up. Calories in and calories out. Walking around the same path in your neighborhood over and over and over again. These days more hair seems to slip through your fingers. The brown bags beneath your eyes protruded. When was the last time you didn’t feel like a walking zombie? 

Caught like a skipping record, you were repeating the toxic cycle. You knew you were damaging yourself, but you didn’t care. Your weight was yo-yoing and you were losing sleep over it. Just one more quick pinterest workout. Skip another meal. Feel so proud for starving yourself all day and then falling victim to an evening binge. 

Like a tilt-a-whirl with no seatbelts, just when you thought the ride would stop, your brain would speak, and you’d be thrown hard into the sides of your skull again. Your body was begging for you to stop. The eye bags. The exhaustion. The chills. The scrapes on your knuckles and yellowed teeth. Your brain begged for an ounce of love, but you had none to give. 

Had it happened in elementary school? Some kids threw cruel words your way. Were you a bit older? Still growing into your body as a preteen when someone said something and your brain clung to the words like glue. Were you in high school when you dived headfirst to the toxic culture of strict dieting? 

The celebrities, the idols, the magazines in the early 2000’s calling people fat right at eye-level in the grocery store. When back to school trips and trying on clothes felt more like a chore more than anything. Glossy tears slipping beneath the fluorescent lights as you twisted and turned and pulled and pinched your skin wishing your body looked different. 

Every sweet taste of a cupcake felt like gaining ten pounds. The richness of the icing. The dense cake that you knew would go directly to your gut, so you swapped it for an apple, but then the latest trends began to discuss how bad natural sugar was for you, so you skipped fruit altogether. 

Hyunjin has always been your pride and joy for quite a while. Dating him felt like winning the lottery and it came with a lot of triumphs, but also a lot of stipulations. You couldn’t be ugly when dating an idol, let alone, a Versace ambassador. So yes, you won, but at what cost? 

Eating disorders are ugly things. People tended to romanticize them, but there was nothing pretty about scraped knuckles. Sticking fingers down your throat and eventually losing your gag reflex because you kept throwing up your food. The sense of victory and impending relief you felt when nothing could come up anymore. 

The feeling of ice water on an empty stomach is addicting. Waking up without being bloated. The empty feeling that lingers as you reject food. You can’t help, but feel proud of yourself, but the opposite is true when you binge. You promise yourself you’ll stop, but soon you’re deep in three-thousand calories and all you can think about is which body part will bulge next. 

The broken capillaries in your eyes from forcing the retching. The aching knuckles that pain shoots through every time you bend them. The puffy cheeks, the hair loss, the naked weigh-ins. Waking up every morning or getting beneath the stream at night and taking a cold shower because it burnt more calories. There was nothing pretty about eating disorders. 

They always have the potential to catch up and yours did. Hyunjin was teaching you in the dance room. He was teaching you the counts of the dance that you wanted to learn when you suddenly collapsed. He barely got to you in time before you slammed the floor. 

When you awoke a few moments later, he pushed applesauce and a plastic spoon towards you. A bottle of water followed as he worried that your blood sugar was low. You glanced at the applesauce, already knowing how many calories were in it, and you refused it. 

He didn’t understand it at first, but then it clicked. He didn’t know when the last time you ate food was. You were always insisting you already ate. Always pushing aside snacks and insisting you were full from lunch, but when was the last time he saw you eat lunch? 

His suspicions were confirmed when he offered to take you out to dinner. You tried to hide the panic, but it was obvious. When he confronted you about your unhealthy habits, you nearly burst into tears on the spot and he swore he’d help you, but the truth was so much more complex. 

Sometimes you don’t have the power to save people from their inner demons. As much as people would like to play god, sometimes a person has to be willing to take the plunge. They have to be willing to work on themselves from within. Find the root of the problems, nurture that hurt, begin to slowly rebuild themselves up instead of down. 

And the truth? You were not ready. The truth is that eating disorders are addictive. There’s a certain kind of twisted competitiveness. When you go hours without eating and those hours slip from twelve to twenty-four and suddenly you’re at forty-eight hours without food. A toxic and warped pride becomes rooted inside and burrows around the roots of your brain. You might have had downfalls, but at least you could starve…until you binged again. 

A seesaw without a winner. The constant up and down. Taking the plunge and soaring up high. The cycle became exhausting after a while, but addictions aren’t easily overcome. There’s always more than meets the eye. 

Hyunjin tried his best to keep his tabs on you. Despite his busy schedule, he had been planning out healthy meals for the two of you. Every time he wanted you to help him cook, your brain screamed at you to stop. Every bite was another pound. You were torn between healing and gaining weight. For a few days, it was okay, but then you broke. 

Outside the bathroom door, Hyunjin was silently listening to you heave up the contents of your stomach. He knew you were up to something when you didn’t return quickly from the bathroom. You swore it wouldn’t take that long, but you lied. 

He hated that he couldn’t understand. He hated that he didn’t know why you were like this. In his head, food was a need, it wasn’t something you could just turn away from. Knowing that he spent all of last night prepping this stuff made it ten times worse. He spent so much time making it perfect and you were unloading your food into the toilet. 

He sighed and shook his head while thinking about it. He couldn’t help you if you didn’t try to help yourself. His arms went over his chest and he found his socked foot tapping the beige carpeted floor. With a clenched jaw, he waited for you to reappear. 

It took a few minutes before you finally reappeared while wiping away remnants of tears. You only took a step when a throat cleared and you were staring into the narrowed eyes of Hyunjin. “Are you done throwing up the meal I spent hours on?” He couldn’t help, but feel annoyed by your actions. 

“I’m sorry, it didn’t agree with my stomach.” The lie slid through your teeth so easily. First it was one lie and then the next. You already ate. Snacks were already consumed. Of course, you were fine. Better than ever. 

“Bullshit!” He spat. “I’m trying to help you and you won’t let me! God, how do you think this makes me feel? It’s disgusting! You have to have food to nourish you, so I’m not sure what doing any of this proves. Did you know stomach acid destroys your teeth?” 

It was a slap to the face. Hurt was in your eyes, but he didn’t stop. The words buzzed straight into the core of your brain and seeped into the shutters of your heart. You were nothing, but a disappointment. 

“I’ve been so busy the past few days and I just wanted one nice meal with my significant other. One nice meal! I even took the time to make homemade pasta and yet you still-” He scoffed and shook his head. “I give up. You know what? Do what you want.” 

Tears began to well in your eyes as he spun around. “W-where are you going?” 

“Away from you. Away from whatever this is. I’m packing up leftovers and taking it to people who’ll actually enjoy it. I can’t believe I learned to cook for you and this is what I get in response.” 

He knew he was being cruel, but he couldn’t help it. He knew eating disorders weren’t easy, but he was so frustrated and terrified for you. He knew you’d disagree when it came to professional help. He couldn’t force you to go, it’ll kill you and he was terrified that you’d never forgive him. 

The last you saw of him was his silhouette storming down the stairs, banging things around, and then the ear-shattering announcement of his disappearance with the door slamming shut. You sniffled and your bottom lip quivered as you headed towards the stairs. 

When you got to the kitchen table, your plate was still there with half-eaten food. Still dressed up in garlic butter, your pasta remained untouched. Your fork still had bits of italian seasoning coating the prongs. The scent of garlic and onion continued to linger in the air. 

The pasta on Hyunjin’s plate had disappeared. The pot that he made it on was missing from the stove. Besides the unrelenting and haunting tick of the clock, it was all still. You were alone with your thoughts, more worrying, you were emotionally stressed. 

When you glanced at the cupboard, your mouth began to salivate with the memory of the glazed donuts you bought earlier. How sweet they’d be on your tongue. A glazed donut followed by something a little more savory, like the trail mix Hyunjin bought you the other day. 

You tried to ignore the pressing thoughts. Stomach acid still stained your teeth. Your brain said no, but your stomach growled at the thought. You emptied the pasta from your stomach, but you were still hungry. The endorphins would spike, your stress would be temporarily relieved before the guilt set in, and so… 

You practically flew across the tile floor in your socks. Flinging open the cupboard door, you found the box of glazed donuts and threw open the lid. The sticky feeling clung to your fingertips, but the taste of sugar was so sweet. Food could be a high that nothing else could compare to. 

You didn’t know how long you spent binging. You scrounged around the cupboards like a rat. Digging through boxes and attempting to find more food. Crackers? You ate some. Some of Hyunjin’s cookies that he promised you could have? You ate those too. 

When you finished, you could already feel the bloating begin. The feeling of your stomach being stretched to its near limits was unbearable. The binge settled and so did the realization of what you just did. 

You sprinted back to the bathroom to make things right. When two fingers weren’t enough to trigger your gag reflex, soon it was replaced with three. Your stomach twisted and heaved. The stomach acid was harsh on your nasal cavity, but you couldn’t help it. 

The cold toilet water mixed with vomit splashed on your face and made you heave more. You choked on chunk after chunk. The crackers scraped harshly into the sides of your throat, but you didn’t care. It all had to get out somehow. 

When you were finished, you forced yourself up, rinsed your mouth out with water, and collapsed on the bed you shared with Hyunjin. There was something trapped inside of you that you just couldn’t seem to stop. How could you defeat your own brain? How did you balance health and harm? 

Good fats, bad fats. Too much sodium. Too much sugar. The unsteady and tipsy feeling of weightlessness with an empty stomach. The heavy and sinking anchor of a full belly. When some people said one thing about food and yet others claimed different, who were you supposed to listen to? 

You didn’t have the knowledge that doctors had or the knowledge of protein and macros and supplements. Food could be so confusing and it could be stressful. How were you ever supposed to see it as something nurturing? Some people said stay away from red meat, some said stay away from fruit, others said only strictly eat fruits, vegetables, and meats. How were you supposed to keep up with it all? 

As your brain spun around in circles, at some point, you managed to fall asleep. When you reawakened, you woke up to a hand on your shoulder. You blinked your bleary eyes, trying to figure out what was happening. 

“Baby?” The familiar voice of Hyunjin filled your ears. His verbal lashing from early reappeared in your sleepy brain. “Can you hear me?” 

“What do you want?” You weakly got out. 

“Get up.” 

“No.” 

You didn’t have a choice as he tugged on your arm and pulled you up. You didn’t fight it as he tugged you into his arms. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said the things I said. I didn’t mean any of it. I really didn’t, I just-” He sniffled. 

“I know,” you mumbled. 

“I’m so afraid for you and I don’t know how to help you. I don’t know how to keep you safe. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. You’re irreplaceable to me.” His arms tightened around you as his chin gently sat on the top of your head. “I never should have taken my frustration out on you.” 

He leaned back against the wooden headboard. You couldn’t stop your own tears from beginning to build up. Your fingers curled into his shirt. The steady wallop of his heartbeat brought you comfort. 

“What do you need from me? How can I help you? What can I do for you?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Baby, please, I need to know what you need.” 

“Help,” you uttered the words that terrified you. “Someone who knows how to fix me. I don’t know how to fix the broken pieces. I-” A sob fell from your lips. 

When was the last time you enjoyed a slice of your own birthday cake without feeling guilty? When did eating feel like enjoyment instead of a punishment? When was the last time you were excited to try a new food without worrying about the calories and sugar content? 

“Just say the words and I will find you someone who can help. I-I can’t help you alone. You have to be willing, baby, please. I need you to try and fight this.” 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Help.” 

Hyunjin squeezed his eyes shut and clutched you tightly. He didn’t utter it out loud, but a silent prayer of gratitude filled his head. “Promise to try?” You nodded. “Thank you.” His lips pressed against the top of your head. 

He began to slowly rock your body back and forth. Your eyes slipped shut and you let out a soft sigh of relief. You were terrified and yet, there were a few specks of relief. Maybe you really could fight this. Maybe you really could develop a healthier relationship with food. 

Learn to stop tracking calories and working out until you nearly collapse from exhaustion. You needed a hail mary and as much as you tried to do it alone, you always seemed to relapse and make it all worse. It wouldn’t be easy, you knew that, but it was a start. 

It was better than repeating the cycle. It was hard to spread your wings and fly, but you wanted to be better. You wanted to be stronger and healthier. You wanted to be happy and most of all, you wanted to have a long life, long enough to watch your relationship with Hyunjin bloom. 

You wanted to meet people, to travel, to try new foods without feeling the rotten guilt. You wanted to enjoy your birthday cake. To embrace the growing older, live through new experiences, harness the wisdom, and share the love. 

It was terrifying, but the more you thought about it, maybe, just maybe, maybe it was worth it. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

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[forever-rogue]

hey honey! I hope you're having a good week 🫶 if your request are open, I have this little idea that I want to share with you (if not, you can ignore it and sorry to bother you). this could be with either Steve Harrington or Eddie Munson because I love how you write for them. so maybe you have a friends with benefit type of relationship that lately has been more romantic (less sex, and more let's take care about each other) and, obviously, you end up falling in love because you've always had a crush and this just made it worse. and because life is short, you decide to confess your feelings but in the moment you're gonna do it, he has something to say too. so you start saying how you are in love but he interrumpes you in that moment and he's like "hey! that's great because I'm seeing this girl and I think I like her so we should end with this" and you end heartbroken not only because it's not reciprocated it but because it also felt like he was leading you when in reality he was seeing another girl already. I know, it's really angsty this but I love angst and if you decide to give it a happy ending too, I will love it 🥺💖

thank you love, hope you have a nice weekend ❤

AN | I am a sucker for a love confession so here we are. It has a happy ending 🥺

Warnings | Language

Pairing | Steve x Fem!Reader

Word Count | 2.5k

Masterlist | Steve, Main

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Why are you looking at me like that?” your cheeks warmed up as you tried to hide your face in his pillow.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered in turn, reaching over and gently brushing a few rogue bits of hair out of your face, “so beautiful.”

“Stevie,” you always felt like he could see right down into your soul with those honey caramel eyes, “stop.”

“Why?” there was a soft whimsy to his question that caused you to playfully roll your eyes, “come on, angel. Tell me.”

“You’re being too…sweet,” you tried to shrug him off as he put his hand on your cheek, “one might almost think you…”

“That I what?” you swallowed thickly at his innocent question. You didn’t know if he really was that naive or if he was playing dumb, “hmm?”

“That you have feelings for me.”

“I do,” he said as though it was the most obvious thing in the world, “you’re my best friend. I love you.”

Not how I love you. You wanted to say, but you swallowed it back down. Instead, you rolled on your back and pulled the sheet over your bare chest. A sigh escaped your lips despite your best efforts. 

“I know,” was all you managed to get out without giving too much of yourself away. 

“Angel-”

“I’m tired,” you whispered into the dark, “let’s just go to sleep.”

He was quiet for a few moments before you felt him shuffle behind you. You felt him wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into his warm body. Despite your best efforts you melded into him.

Soon, you promised yourself, soon you would tell Steve exactly how you felt. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You could lie and say you weren't quite sure when your situationship with Steve started but that would be a lie. You remembered the precise moment you went from best friends to best friends with benefits. 

It was at some party for a friend of a friend and the two of you had gone for some fun…and free drinks. You'd both gotten a little tipsy and it had been a while since either of you had gotten any action and so…you'd kissed and then had sex.

When coming to your senses the next day, neither of you truly regretted it. It was - if you were being completely honest - the best sex of your life. And because of that, the two of you didn't see a reason not to hook up again. 

So you did; happily and regularly. Despite your best efforts, you kept holding onto the hope something would change. Something would prompt him to want to make this official. You thought that maybe he felt the same way about you. You knew he loved you, that was never a secret. But you wanted to know if he loved you as more than a best friend.

You could have asked. You should have asked but you never worked yourself up to it. Instead you let things keep going as they were, hoping that something would happen. Maybe the universe would divine something into fruition.

But it became increasingly hard to hold back your feelings. You should have just ended things or came out and told him the entire truth but it was impossible. You couldn't quit Steve…you didn't want to. 

Steve, however, was smarter than most people ever assume. He could see that something was different - off. Whenever he'd try to bring up the subject and get to the root of what was going on, you switched the subject. 

"Here ya go," Steve held out your ice cream cone, a smile on his face, “your favorites.”

“Thanks,” you took the cone from him with a small, forced smile. His own pretty smile faltered for a moment as you ate some of your ice cream, “it’s really good.”

“What’s wrong?” he asked softly and offered him a shrug in response. You knew that he meant well and this was all because he cared but it didn’t make it any easier, “you’ve been so down lately. Talk to me, angel. Please.”

“Stevie,” you hesitated for a moment; you hated seeing the sad look on his face. You wanted him to be happy - it was what he deserved. You reached for his hand and put yours on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze, “nothing is wrong, love. I’m just…I haven’t been feeling great. That’s all.”

“Okay,” he flipped your hand over so he was holding yours. His touch was so gentle and reverent. You knew he could tell you were lying, but the thing about him was that he never pushed. He knew that you trusted him and would eventually go to him, “you know that you can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you promised him, “you’re the one person I trust more than anything. You’re the most important person in my life, Steve.”

“Funny,” he teased softly  that almost brought a little smile to your face, “you’re the same to me. You’re the best thing in the world.”

“Steve.”

“I mean it,” he reached over and brushed his knuckles along your cheek, “I love you.”

And that was the most wonderful and hardest thing to hear, because you knew he meant it.

Just not in that way.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Baby, baby, baby,” you sighed softly as Steve trailed his lips along your jaw and down your neck. He was softly nipping at the skin, leaving behind a lavender haze of soft bruises, “you’re so soft. So fuckin’ soft.”

“Steve,” you wanted him to stop but your body and heart were wanting him to keep going. You ran a hand through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. He was slowly pushing up your dress, deft fingers dancing along your thighs. He paused for a moment before kissing along your collarbones and the tops of your breasts. His gentle touch caused you to inhale softly.

“I love when you make all those pretty sounds,” he nuzzled his face into your neck, overwhelming all of your senses, “you are everything to me.”

You tensed up for a moment before putting your hands on his shoulders and shaking your head. Steve stopped immediately and pulled back, looking at you in concern, “stop, please. I…I’m sorry.”

“Is everything okay?” his eyes were wide with concern as he pulled himself off you completely and sat down next to you. You felt tears welling up but tried to blink them back, “angel…”

“I just…I don’t want to do this,” you pointed between your bodies, “not today. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he insisted sweetly, “you never have to apologize for anything like that. It’s not an issue. Do you want to just watch a movie or something?”

“Actually, I think I should go home,” you pulled your dress down and shuffled off his bed. He nodded in response before handing you your sweater. You took it, hugging it to your chest as you inhaled the smell of him from it, “I’ll talk to you later, alright?”

“Call me when you get home, okay?” he asked quietly as you nodded in response, “and be careful.”

“Always,” you promised before turning to leave his bedroom. You paused in the hallway for a moment, hesitating on whether to just leave or go back. After a few beats you left his apartment to go home. You missed him already. 

Steve had to battle between coming after you or letting you go. He knew something was wrong and he just wanted to fix it. He would do anything for you…he hoped you knew that.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You separated yourself from Steve for a few days, trying to figure yourself out. It was hard but if you were ever going to move past the current situation something had to change.

The only real solution, you had finally come to terms with, was telling him how you really felt. It was going to be harder but it was going to be even harder if you never said anything at all.

The next time Steve picked you up for your normal Friday night hangout, you were ready. As ready as you ever would be. 

"Hey angel," Steve wrapped you up in a hug without hesitation and you allowed yourself to melt into his arms, "I've missed you."

"I've missed you too, Stevie," you whispered as you took a moment to breathe him in. You pulled back and found him looking at you with soft eyes and an even softer smile. 

"I have something to tell you-"

The two of you spoke at the same time, always so in sync. You couldn't help but laugh lightly. You gave his arm a light squeeze and motioned for him to go first.

"So," he looked excited as your heart beat wildly in your chest. Was this finally it? Were you going to have your magic movie moment finally? He looked at his feet for a moment, stifling his smile, "do you remember Amber? The receptionist at my old job?"

"Yeah…" your heart was definitely going to burst out of your chest.

"She called me up the other day and asked if I wanted to go out with her," he looked almost shy as all you could do was stare at him, "so I figured why not? We're going out tomorrow."

"Oh," you felt your heart break as you blinked back your tears, "oh."

"Yeah," he nodded, trying to read your expression, "I was thinking too that maybe we should stop sleeping together. Just if we want to start dating people it might be best if we stop. But - what were you going to say?"

"Me?" you swallowed thickly, brain buzzing and heart in your stomach. You opened and closed your mouth a few times trying to figure out how to possibly tell him you were in love with him when he clearly wasn't interested in you that way. You were just a best friend and a warm body, "umm…nothing. Nothing important at all."

"Are you sure? It looked like it was something big-"

"No," you shook your head and took a step back from him, "I forgot but umm, I actually have a thing so I can't hang out tonight. I'm so sorry, I just remembered."

"What? But we always-"

"I'm sorry, Stevie," you turned around before he could say anything else. He was almost positive that you had some tears in your eyes.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

After Steve broke your heart - unintentionally - you avoided him. Flat out avoided him and didn’t even make an attempt  to hide that little fact. He called, and came by, and even stopped by your work, but never managed to get a hold of you. It was starting to kill him slowly. He needed to know what was wrong, he wanted to fix it and make it all better. You were the best and biggest part of his life and you were just gone. He wasn’t sure if he could survive without you. 

Neither of you could live without the other. That was obvious to everyone. 

It was a few weeks later that Steve finally managed to track you down. He’d been waiting outside of your office, watching in anticipation for you to come out. It probably wasn’t the best idea but he didn’t care. He couldn’t be without you any more.

As soon as he saw you coming down the steps, he jumped out of his car and ran over you, calling your name at the top of his lungs, a desperate and hurried sound. You stopped dead in tracks and looked at him with wide eyes. 

“Steve?”

“Hey - hi,” he stopped in front of you, a nervous expression on his face. 

“W-what are you doing here?” butterflies were already fluttering around in your tummy like crazy. 

“You,” he stated simply, “I had to see you. I can’t wait any longer.”

“Oh,” that alone was enough to make your heart thaw just a little bit, “Stevie-”

“I’m sorry,” he interrupted you quickly, “I know I should let you talk but I don’t want another excuse for why I have seen you. All I could think about these last couple of weeks was you. And I think…I think I know what happened.”

“Oh?” your face warmed as you squealed at him, “I….Steve.”

“Are you in love with me?” he didn’t waste any time getting right to the point and it was the most wonderful and scariest moment of your life, “because I’m in love with you.”

You could have given him so many different answers, played this off in various ways but you were done. Done with running from him and ignoring what was right in front of you. Swallowing thickly, you nodded at him, “yes. I’m in love with you.”

He took your face in his hands, brushing his thumb over your cheek. He smiled at you, fully and sweetly, which you couldn’t help but return. Suddenly it felt like things were really and truly falling into place. 

“May I?” he asked softly and you knew exactly what he meant. You answered his question by leaning in and kissing him softly. If there was ever a magic movie moment, this was it. You’d kissed him many times by now, but it was never like this before. 

When you pulled back, he sighed softly and pressed his forehead against yours, “I’ve been wanting to say that for so long now.”

“Me too,” you confessed softly, “I just got scared every time. And I was sure you’d never feel the same.”

“Really?” he laughed softly, “here I was thinking I was being so obvious all this time. I should have tried harder, huh?”

“I thought you were being obvious but I talked myself out of it,” you admitted as you touched his face, “I never thought you’d love me like I’ve always loved you.”

“I always have,” he promised, “and I always will.”

“Do you really promise?” you felt a few tears run down your cheeks and Steve didn’t hesitate to wipe them away.

“I swear it on my life,” he peppered your face in kisses, “forever. I love you.”

“I love you,” a wistful little sigh escaped your lips as you melted into him, “forever.”

[its-time-to-write]

Hi!! I hope you’re well !! Thank you so much for keeping the Jaimie Tartt community well fed like I will forever be in your debt you’re amazing‼️‼️ My humble request is in honor of SNTV:) My favorite songs are Enchanted and Sparks Fly so maybe a complicated angsty start up to a fluffy love confession (like they just haven’t gotten the timing right until now or they were friends and then something happens to her). IDK anyway sorry for the word vomit and thank you bunches for all your hard work!!

I loved this request!! Also sorry, all my fics seem to be ending the same way this days😬 But we keep getting to the ending in new and exciting ways so hopefully no one cares! Enjoy!

wonderstruck

You knew the moment you met Keeley Jones that your friendship was going to be a wild ride. You were still in uni, and had picked up a one-off job as one extra on a commercial shoot. The pay wasn’t bad (hey, it was extra money) and you were willing to sacrifice a Saturday for it. Keeley was one of the frontrunners for the commercial, all big hair and wild makeup. You had bumped into her by chance at the food table, started talking, and the rest was history. One random job turned into a solid four years of friendship. It was a funny dynamic between you and Keeley, because she was both older sister and antagonizer. She liked to pull you out of your comfort zone, taking you to clubs, parties, events, whatever as her plus one. Well, until she started dating a prick footballer named Jamie Tartt.

You didn’t meet him while they were together. You’d already known Keeley for two and a half years at that point, and understood she had shit taste in men. You weren’t afraid to tell her that to her face and she’d just laugh and say, “I know babes, but it’s right fun, innit?”

You’d laugh and shake your head, then go back to carefully painting her nails in the brightest, sparkliest colors imaginable.

Keeley was really, really good for you.

She called you the night she broke up with Jamie, and you came over to her house with a giant bottle of champagne only to find her and another woman, a Rebecca Welton, already proper tipsy and giggling on the floor. They were still dolled up from that night’s benefit while you were in pajamas, but you didn’t let that stop you. You downed half a bottle while Keeley and Rebecca cheered. You were glad Keeley had dumped that awful, cheating, self-absorbed prick. She deserved so much better.

You were glad when she started dating Roy Kent. He was a lot more down-to-earth than she was, and they were a good balance for each other. You wondered if Keeley gravitated toward those of a more serious nature in the same way you were drawn to those who were more spontaneous.

Post-uni, you had started your own business. It was kind of a random venture, something you had begun for a friend, but then it took off. You made the most outrageous, eccentric day-to-day dresses, taking a simple pattern then transforming it with wild patterns, tulle, and the occasional sparkle. Keeley, angel that she was, modeled some of them and put them on her instagram. And just like that, you were selling out. 

It was absolutely insane, but you were able to spend the week making two dresses and then turn over a nice profit. You felt like you were overcharging but Keeley said, “Babe, if you’re selling out, you might be undercharging.”

All that to say, life with Keeley Jones as your friend was absolutely magical. You’d do anything for her. Including going to a fucking benefit as her plus one.

—

“Why can’t you just take Roy?”

“Roy’s already got his own invite. He’s a coach, so he has to be there even though he’s going to fucking hate it.” Keeley laughs. She thinks Roy’s grumpiness is endearing.

“Alright, why’d you get a plus one then? It doesn’t make sense, Keels,” you counter.

Keeley refuses to meet your eyes. “It’s entirely possible that Rebecca gave me one so that you’d come.”

“Keeleyyy,” you groan.

She shoves your shoulder playfully. “She knew if she sent you a direct invite you wouldn’t go, and she said she’d let us meet up at her house to get ready together! C’mon babes, it’s going to be so much fun and we’ll look sooo fucking fit walking the red carpet together, yeah?”

She gives you her widest puppy-dog eyes, lower lip pushing out. You sigh.

“Fucking fine. Fine. But you’re coming with me to pick out a dress. And you’re buying my coffee.”

Keeley cheers and tackles you in a hug. “You won’t regret it, I swear. Worst case you can just bitch about it with Roy the next day.” You laugh. You and Roy bitch about a lot of things together.

—

The red carpet is absolutely terrifying. It’s louder than you would have thought and the flashes from the camera are giving you a headache. 

“How the hell do you do this?” you ask Keeley through a smile. 

She laughs for the cameras. “Loads of practice, babe,” she replies in a perfect pose. “Now look at me and laugh at something I said.”

You’re almost done and the paps are asking for a photo of Keeley and Roy, so you wait off to the side near the entrance for them. You crane your neck to try to find Rebecca, to no avail. You do however catch the eye of someone with a very nice fashion sense and very, very blue eyes. He gives you a once-over and grins. You blush and turn back to Keeley and Roy who have finished and are making their way over to you. Keeley grabs your hand and says, “Hi Jamie!” while Roy rolls his eyes. Jamie says, “Hey Keeley,” and nods to Roy. “Grandad.”

“Fuck you,” Roy replies, and you’re surprised at the borderline affectionate tone he’s using. Especially considering Jamie is Keeley’s ex. He’s not really what you would have expected, but you don’t have time to dwell on that because Keeley’s dragging you inside the benefit venue.

—

Jamie is sitting at the same table as you. 

Correction: he’s sitting right fucking next to you and it’s all you can do to avoid eye contact with him. You had introduced yourself to him with a barely suppressed grimace and steeled yourself for a long, misogyny-filled night. 

You were so tense that Keeley put her hand on your knee and said, “I’ve got to go reapply my lipliner, d’you want to come with?”

You got up and followed her, feeling far too exposed in your backless, purple-sequined dress. 

“Alright babe, what gives?” she asks once you’ve made it to the bathroom. “You’re wound up so tight I could stick coal up your ass and get a diamond.”

That makes you crack a smile and you shrug. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”

Keeley shakes her head. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, I’ve had four years of practice knowing exactly when you’re telling me a fib.”

“Who’s fibbing?” Rebecca says, walking in the door. “I saw Keeley drag you in here, and I didn’t want to miss out on some girl talk.”

“Oh thank god you’re here,” you say, relieved. “I’ve been looking for you for the past hour and couldn’t find you.”

Rebecca self-consciously smooths her hair. “I’ve been- busy,” she says. “But this isn’t about me. What are you fibbing about?”

You look between Rebecca and Keeley then deflate. “I have to sit next to Jamie Tartt.”

Keeley and Rebecca share a look. “I don’t see what that’s such a bad thing,” Rebecca says.

You look at her in disbelief. “Jamie Tartt? The biggest prick in all of London, and quite possibly all of England? Cheated on Keeley multiple times and all-around arsehole?”

Keeley grimaces. “Yeah, not one of his finer points in life.”

“See?” you say. “He’s the fucking worst!” Rebecca and Keeley share another look.

“Stop fucking doing that,” you say. “What?”

“Darling,” Rebecca says gently, “he’s changed.”

You’re not buying it, a sentiment that is evident in your expression.

“It’s true, babes,” Keeley affirms. “And look, I’d probably be the fucking last person to say it. But he has! He’s loads better than he used to be, an absolute sweetheart. Even Roy loves him.”

You snort.

“Okay, maybe love is a strong word,” Keeley amends. “But he likes him! Roy said Jamie’s the best player on the team, and possibly one of the best in the country!”

You’re still not buying it. 

“Listen,” Rebecca says. “Give him one hour free of bias. Forget who he was and give him a chance. You might be surprised.”

You look to Keeley, unsure. It is her ex, after all.

To your surprise, she’s smiling and nodding. “Go for it,” she says. “You never know what could happen.” She wiggles her eyebrows at you and you laugh. Only Keeley Jones could try to pawn her ex off on her best friend with the confident assurance that he’s a better man now. You know she’s not lying, or at least she believes Jamie’s changed. You’re not sure what to believe, but you’ll take Rebecca’s advice and give Jamie one hour to change your mind.

—

You’re not in your seat two seconds before Jamie starts talking to you.

“Why d’you look so nervous love? I don’t bite.” He grins. “Much.”

You catch yourself before you grimace and instead say, “This whole thing isn’t really my scene. It’s a lot of people I don’t know, and I’m only here ‘cause Keels asked me to be her plus one.”

Jamie still has that obnoxious grin on his face. “What does Roy think about you stealing his girlfriend? Can’t imagine he’d take it lying down.”

You glance over at Keeley and Roy. His arm is around the back of her chair and she’s leaning into him ever so slightly. 

You say, “I’ve been here longer than he has, so if anyone’s stolen her, it’s him,” and you watch the pieces click into place in Jamie’s head.

“Shit,” he says. “You’re the best friend. Shoulda known when you told me your name.”

You shrug.

“Makes sense,” he continues. “I wondered why you weren’t fuckin’ beside yourself to be sitting by the fittest bloke in the room.”

You roll your eyes, hint of a smile tugging at your lips.

He pulls his chair a little closer and looks at you again with those perfect blue eyes. “Seriously, I am sorry. I was a prick. It took Keeley breaking up with me for me to start gettin’ my head out of me arse.” Jamie’s words back up what Keeley and Rebecca told you. You’re not entirely ready to brush his past under the rug, but tell him that it seems like he did a right proper job of it, which makes him laugh.

“Do you really think you’re the fittest guy in here?” you ask.

Jamie gestures to the room. “Look around, babe. I ain’t lying.”

You laugh, and the tension dispels. You’ve 55 minutes to go, and then you can go back to hating him. For now, you’ll let him keep cracking jokes.

—

The hour is up, but you’re still talking to Jamie. You don’t stop to consider why he’s still talking to you (maybe because he can’t stand the idea of anyone hating him) but he is. It’s actually enjoyable, so when he asks you to accompany him to the dance floor, you look to Keeley for approval instead of outright rejecting him.

Keeley says, “Go on babe, I’m gonna try to convince this one to get out there for at least one dance,” and Roy says, “Fuck no.”

You let Jamie take your hand as he promises, “No funny business, I swear,” and you just laugh.

You laugh through three songs because Jamie has a way of making you giggle. He swings you around and executes all kinds of moves that you’re sure you could never replicate, but you assume that being a Premier League footballer means he’s got to be coordinated. Makes sense that he can dance.

The fourth song is a slow one, so you move to leave the dance floor but Jamie catches your hand.

“Stay,” he says. “I’m having a really great time with you.”

You feel Keeley kick the bottom of your shoe from where she’s swaying with her arms around Roy’s neck. 

It makes you stumble a little, just enough for Jamie to have to catch you. He grins. “I’ll take that as a yes then.”

He puts your hands around his neck and his on your waist. It’s a soft touch, but you can feel sparks shooting up your hipbones.

You’re absolutely fucked.

Jamie doesn’t say a single thing, just sways along with the soft music and gazes into your eyes. You can’t look away no matter how hard you try. 

The song ends and you let go of Jamie. He slides a hand up you waist and down your arm, lifts your hand to his lips, and kisses your inner wrist. 

Before you can form a coherent thought, he’s gone.

Rebecca and Keeley are on you in a moment.

“You’re both coming to mine,” Rebecca says. “You have time to go home and get pajamas, but I’m getting out of here as soon as I can. I just made sure my pantry was restocked.”

—

It’s 2am. Rebecca and Keeley have successfully gotten you to admit that you like Jamie. 

Against all odds, you like him.

Fuck.

“You’re sure it’s not weird?” you ask Keeley as you pace around Rebecca’s bedroom.

“For the millionth time, babe,” she says, “I really don’t. I think you two would be fucking adorable together.”

Rebecca nods in agreement. “I’m on Keeley’s side on this one. Jamie used to be a right little shit, but he’s really turned it around. And could you please stop wearing a hole in my rug? It’s giving me anxiety.”

You abruptly stop and plop down on the bed. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if he was only trying to make me not hate him because I’m Keeley’s best friend?”

Rebecca makes an offended noise so you amend: “Sorry, one of Keeley’s best friends?”

“Listen,” Keeley says making her way to your spot on the end of the bed. She holds your arms. “I know Jamie. He was fucking interested. And he hasn’t been that way in a while. You should just fucking go for it.”

“I don’t know,” you say slowly. Rebecca and Keeley groan and flop back onto the bed.

“You’re absolutely hopeless,” Rebecca says, but it’s laced with affection. You grin.

“That’s why you love me.”

—

You don’t sleep. Keeley is sandwiched between you and Rebecca on Rebecca’s absolutely massive bed, and all you can think about is Jamie’s blue eyes and the sparks of electricity you felt wherever he touched you. 

You can still feel the kiss on your wrist.

—

It rains for three days and you refuse to go to Nelson Road. Keeley’s out sick anyway, and Rebecca is busy with work. You are too, working on a commission in electric blue. It’s very cozy inside your flat, soft music playing as the rain plinks on your roof. You’re wearing your good sweats, the ones that match and don’t have stains. Your hair is freshly clean and pulled back in a clip and there’s a pot of tea on the stove. 

Your heartbeat has not been normal since dancing with Jamie. It’s beating in an irregular pattern, horrendously out of sync with the calming sound of rain. You can’t get it to calm down so you decide to indulge and replay your entire interaction with Jamie, as a treat. 

You’re just thinking about his hands on your waist and letting your mind wander to where else you think they should go, when there’s a knock on the door. You frown.

That’s odd. Who on earth could be at your door at 7pm on a Monday in pouring rain? You pad across the living room to the door and open it to find a very wet Jamie.

“Hi,” he says, and then he’s pulling you onto the porch and kissing you in the pouring rain.

You’re soaked through to the bone, but you don’t care. All you can feel is Jamie’s hair as you run your fingers through and his lips on yours as they devour you. It’s straight out of a movie.

You shiver, and Jamie breaks away.

“Got your address from Keeley,” he says. “She’s the one who told me to come here. Can we go inside?”

You nod mutely and let him in. “Aren’t you cold?” you ask.

He just laughs. “Nah babe, I run hot. You look right fucking freezing, though. Good thing I’m here, I’ll help you warm right up.”

You’re really starting to shiver. “You should get out of those clothes,” you say through chattering teeth. 

“Could say the same about you,” Jamie replies. “Where’s your bedroom at?” 

You all but drag him up the stairs to your room. 

You think you’re going to kill Keeley for telling Jamie you liked him, but then you’re flat on your back, bare skin pressing into the duvet as Jamie Tartt presses hot kisses up your neck, and you forget all about her.

[doomed-syko]

Right Back Where We Started From | Robert Keating x Fem!reader

summary: Flying home for Christmas seemed like a great idea until you’re snowed in and stuck on an icy runway… for the foreseeable future. Even worse? The person in the seat next to you is the guy who broke your heart a year ago

word count: 3.5k

warnings: angsty, exes to lovers (kinda), fluff, swearing, mention of alcohol, my bad writing as always, the usual really

author’s note: i have returned to my roots and am back with a robert christmas fic, everyone rejoice. this time a bit different. as you can tell, i’ve rewatched normal people while writing this – to all my robert keating and paul mescal enjoyers, this one is for you x

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”        

You hadn’t thought it would be possible, but your already bad day had just gotten worse somehow, which was kind of an achievement in itself.

It was bad enough that you had slept through your alarm this morning and had rushed into work over an hour late (the sudden onset of winter and heavy snowfall delaying your arrival even longer), which was followed by your suitcase breaking as you were about to leave your flat for Heathrow and you had to quickly find something to repair the broken zipper with. The bad luck didn't end there of course. When you did finally make it to the airport - ten minutes before check-in for your flight closed - you almost got run over by some busy businessman who didn't look where he was going and, in the process, rammed his metal suitcase against your knee, which had been pulsating and in pain ever since. Your flight being delayed by an hour and twenty minutes was truly only the cherry on top.

But even then, none of those things could compare to the mixture of feelings you felt bubbling up inside you when you realized who had just sat down in the seat right next to you and who was about to sit right next to you for the next hour and a half or so.

None other than your bassist ex-boyfriend whose band was almost everywhere these days. Of course, it had to be Robert Keating.

For a few seconds, you thought about the best way to approach this whole thing. Ignore him and pretend he wasn’t there? Put on a happy face and try to be nice to him? Even though the mere thought of your breakup still made your heart ache and sting every time you thought about it, thought about him. None of those seemed like good ideas.

Before either of you could decide how to approach this awkwardness, a decision was made for you. In the form of the voice of a flight attendant over the intercom system.

“Welcome on board British Airways flight BA 838 to Dublin Airport, due to the heavy snowfall and an icy runway, our start is delayed by at least thirty minutes,” a murmur went through the crowd. “Our cabin crew will be coming around, handing out free drinks and snacks, we apologize profusely for the delay!”

You must’ve really pissed off someone in your last life because there was no way this was real life. How could literally everything possibly go wrong in one single day?

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Robert echoed your words from earlier, the absurdity of it all was the last straw for you and you started uncontrollably giggling to yourself.

“You seem to be in a good mood.” Rob sighed and you knew without looking at him that his face was pulled into a grimace. It was safe to say that he was not having fun right now.

“Oh, believe me,” you stopped chuckling and turned your attention to your former lover, who did indeed look like he wanted to be anywhere but stuck on an icy tarmac right about now. “I’ve actually had one of the worst days of my life today.” You shrugged your shoulders. “At this point, I’ve just stopped trying to make any sense of it.”

Before you knew it you told him about everything that had gone wrong for you up until that point. Broke suitcase and all.

You even showed him your knee that had been massacred by that man and his heavy suitcase and realised that it actually had started bleeding. No wonder it kept pulsating with pain.

Those damn businessmen and their way too expensive, way too heavy metal suitcases

“I feel like I've been talking your ear off for way too long now,” you smiled awkwardly. Seems like 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was the plan you had chosen. “Now tell me, why are you in London on the 22nd? Shouldn’t you be already home with the family?”

You hated that you still knew what he and his family did every Christmas. You hated that you still knew a lot about him actually.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rob replied. And just like that, operation 'put on a happy face and try to be nice' was fucked. “We had a label meeting a few days ago, with the big boss,” He joked. Looked like you didn’t mess up your chances of keeping this civil after all. “The lads all flew home on Wednesday, but I needed a day just for myself, to decompress or something like that… It has been a long year you know? So much has happened in the last twelve months, and I’ve had almost no days for just myself.”

“Yeah, busy year,” you acknowledged. You couldn’t escape the band anymore; they were everywhere these days. And as much as it hurt to see or hear about him everywhere you went; it made you happy to see them doing so well.

You were about to say something when the voice of the flight attendant from earlier came over the intercom again, this time informing you that due to the weather, your delay would continue but that you had to stay on the plane for safety reasons. At this point, you wondered if you would even make it to Dublin before Christmas… maybe you just had to spend Christmas in London alone, so the bad luck that seemed to follow you around could not rub off on anyone else.

At least the cabin crew would – once again – make their rounds and hand out free drinks, food, and some blankets.

Realizing that you hadn’t registered how cold it actually was on the plane, you made sure to profusely thank the brunette flight attendant, who handed you one of the British Airways branded blue fleece blankets, wrapping it around your upper body and legs you had pulled up on the seat after taking your shoes off. There was no way you were going to be (physically) uncomfortable today.

You turned your attention back to Rob, only to see him already looking at you. Actually looking at you and not the 'barely holding eye contact' thing he had done earlier, now he was staring at you, his eyes rapidly moving like he had forgotten what you looked like and was now trying to commit every part of you to his memory.

It made that mixture of feelings you had felt bubbling up inside you when you had first seen him earlier, return. Just this time, the feelings of butterflies in your stomach, that you always used to get whenever you had looked at him, were more prominent than any other feeling.

Fuck… great work! Thirty-five minutes spent next to your ex and boom… you were right back to feeling head over heels for him.

You sat in silence for a few minutes, neither of you knowing what to say now, because what do you talk about with your ex-partner when you didn’t plan to see them never mind being stuck in an airplane that could not take off due to the sudden onset of winter. No one had ever written a handbook of how to act if you were ever stuck in a situation like this. No one. Especially not on how to act when you are actually still very much in love with said former partner, making the doubts you had always had about you going your separate ways, appear even greater.

The breakup had been mutual. You both barely had time for each other anymore and at that point in time it had seemed like the only reasonable decision to make. You had finished university that summer, he was practically always on tour or in the studio and when you had gotten that job offer for your current job in London you realized that things would only get harder from there on out. So, you moved to London, Robert stayed in Dublin – when he was not on tour – and then you broke up.

Of course, you had promised to stay in touch, to stay friends but you both knew that that was not happening. You couldn’t stay friends with him, not when you were still head over heels in love with him.

That’s why the breakup still hurt, even though you had not been with him in well over a year. You had tried to move on, had hooked up with a few people here and there, had gone out on the dates your new friends had set you up on but no one made you feel the way he did, so you gave up trying and slowly came to terms with the fact that you would maybe never be as in love again as you had been when you were twenty.

You sighed, trying to shake your thoughts as you fished your phone out of your jeans pocket.

20:21

Even with the initial hour and twenty minutes delay of the flight, you should’ve been long in the air by now, scratch that you should be more than halfway to Dublin by now. You sighed again, before typing out a message to your mother, telling her that you were still in Heathrow and didn’t know when you'd be home. Her answer came quickly, reassuring you that she would be there to pick you up from the airport when you landed, whenever that may be.

Putting your phone away you turned your attention back on Rob, who seemed to be so deep in his own thoughts, that even though he was looking at you, he was more looking through you.

“Are you alright?” You sounded more concerned than you were.

“Yeah yeah, I’m all right. Just a bit tired,” He smiled at you. “It's just– you know… I have missed you. A lot.”

Oh.

“I’ve been for a while actually,” He chuckled awkwardly. “The last year has been one of the strangest of my life. The juxtaposition of all the success with the lads, all the sold-out shows, festivals… all the fun and good stuff that has happened and then missing you all the time, missing us. It is a lot.”

Robert’s admission hit you like a ton of bricks. Holy fucking shit.

“Don’t say that.” Your voice was breaking. Why was your voice breaking?

“No, I mean it,” Rob's voice wasn’t steady, but he continued, reaching for your hands, and giving them a gentle squeeze. It was the first time he touched you that evening, leaving your skin feeling like it was on fire everywhere his met yours.

“No, you don’t get to say that shit after I spent over a year being heartbroken.” Your emotions were running wild now. “Not after I’ve finally come to terms with the fact that I’ll probably never love anyone like I love you.”

There it was. Your confession. Out in the open.

“We both decided it was for the better to call things off,” Robert cringed at the words. But he was right, it had been a mutual decision. “You can’t put all the blame on me… if I had known how difficult this would be I would’ve never done it.” You could tell he was getting worked up over this, but you could not blame him for that. You weren’t doing any better really. “I would’ve moved to this damn city for you!”

“Don’t say that.” There it was again. “Robert, you would have hated it here. You would have been away from the lads, you would have had to commute between London and Dublin all the fucking time,” you tried to keep your voice as low as possible, which proved to be difficult the longer this went on. “That’s no way to live, baby. We would have been miserable.”

He was silent for a while, his hands still holding onto yours as if you were the anchor keeping him grounded but he wasn’t looking at you anymore. Now you squeezed his hands.

“Bobby there is no use in pretending you wouldn’t have been absolutely fucking miserable here,” You sniffled trying not to cry. “I would not have had time for you, and you would not have had time for me. We would have lived two separate times, believe me, we would have resented each other after a few months.”

“Still,” he tried to argue. “I’ve been pretty fucking miserable this year without you too.” He was finally looking at you again, his eyes slightly glassed over.

You didn’t know what to say to that and before you could think of something, the intercom turned on again.

“Good evening, my name is Richard Jones, I’ll be your Captain tonight and I am happy to report that we’ve finally got cleared to take off.” Finally. “We will be making our way onto the tarmac in about ten minutes. Since we are obviously not the only plane waiting to take off, we will have to wait for a little bit longer, but we should be in the air in the next thirty minutes or so. We, again, apologise for the delay, if you have any more questions our cabin crew will be happy to answer them. We thank you for your patience!”

You felt like a weight was finally being taken off your shoulders. A weight you had carried around with yourself for almost a year now.

You got your phone out again, sending another text to your Mum telling her that you were finally about to take off and actually get home for Christmas. And then… then you took a deep breath turning your attention back to Robert.

Okay, here goes nothing.

“Well since we are sharing,” you smiled at him, still holding his hands. “I’ve missed you too. A lot!”

Before he could answer you, you got interrupted once again.

“Is there anything I can get either of you?” The brunette flight attendant from earlier smiled at you. “Any drinks? Food?”

“Yeah actually,” you turned your attention from Rob to the brunette woman. “Could we get two red wines and a pack of salt crisps? Thank you so much!”

You took the two wines and crisps, setting one of the wines down in front of Robert.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” You grinned at him, who would have thought this day would end like this? You certainly didn’t. “Cheers!”

The both of you talked a lot. About everything that had happened since your breakup, about how much you missed each other, about your job and the band.

You told him how proud you were of him and the lads, that even though it had hurt to see them everywhere, your happiness for their success outweighed the heartbreak of – at the time – knowing that you would probably never get to tell them that in the way you had done for years before. That you missed your friends in Dublin but that your new job and friends in London were great. How much you had fallen in love with this city. And how much you hated not at least trying to stay in contact with Eli or Josh.

In turn, he told you about how much he loved touring, how he and the lads had grown even closer, how crazy eventful this year had been and how glad he was that they were taking a little break. Taking things slow but already working on album number three.

You talked about your confessions from earlier. That you both were obviously miserable without each other, that you still loved each other greatly and what it meant for you going forward.

With your head on his shoulder, you talked for the whole flight, in hushed whispers, laughing every now and again.

And if the confessions had taken a heavy weight off your shoulder earlier, this – the hushed talking, the little giggles, and the handholding – made you feel weightless. Made you feel like you were on top of the world again. All because the man you loved was still in love with you.

You were holding hands when you finally walked out of the airplane at 22:25. Finally back home in Dublin you thought. And you continued to do so when you waited to pick up your baggage, which of course took another fifteen minutes but at this point, what were those extra fifteen minutes? If anything, it was more time with Robert which you gladly accepted.

“Is anyone here to pick you up?” You looked up at Rob, while you were still waiting for your broken suitcase, to arrive on the baggage conveyor belt.

“Sent a message to my Ma while we were getting ready to land,” He answered. “Is that your bag?” He asked pointing to the black suitcase, which was indeed yours. “She should be here by now and if not, I’ll just have to wait a few minutes,” he grabbed your suitcase, grabbing your hand again and interlocking your fingers. “Your Mum is picking you up, right?”

“Hmm,” you hummed as you walked through the automatic doors. “There she is actually.” Your pace got faster after you spotted her in between the dozens of other people who were waiting for their loved ones to finally arrive. “C’mon.”

You felt your fingers slip out of Robert's hand a few meters before you reached your mother, practically running into her open arms. Only once you were back in your mother’s arms did you realize how tired you actually were.

“Oh my god I’ve missed you so much,” you sighed. “I don’t think I have ever been this happy to be back home.

“Oh, it is so good to have you back, sweetheart!” Your mother replied kissing your cheek before spotting Rob who had given your little reunion some space. “Robert it's good to see you again darling.”

She pulled him into her arms, just like she had done with you earlier but not before side-eying you. This was going to be fun to explain later.

“Okay let’s get you home,” your mother sighed, grabbing your suitcase. “Is there anyone to pick you up, Robert?”

“Yeah, my Mums on her way,” he smiled down at her. “I’ll wait outside for her; don’t worry she'll be here in a few minutes.”

The three of you walked through the airport, towards the car park, your mother in the front with your suitcase, Robert, and you behind her with the rest of your baggage.

“I’ll get the car,” Your mother said when you stepped outside, the cool air blowing through your hair. “You wait here I'll be back in a few minutes.”

Before you could answer her, she was already gone, leaving you and Robert alone. Smart woman, you thought to yourself.

You turned your attention back to Robert, smiling brightly, before resting your head against his chest. You stood in silence, the chilly wind still blowing through your hair. You did not feel the need to say something. Everything you needed to get off your chest you had talked about with Robert. You would rather just stay where you were right now, in his arms and pressed against his chest just like you had done a hundred times before.

“I’ll see you in January,” he smiled, carefully grabbing your face, and pulling it from his chest to look at you. “Right?”

“Yeah,” you hummed, hearing the honking of a car, and turning around to see your mother waiting for you. “I’ll keep my bed warm for you!” You chuckled, leaning into his touch. “I promise.”

“I’ll know you will love,” Robert grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” another kiss. This time his lips landed on your right temple, right next to your eye. “I love you!”

The last kiss he pressed to the tip of your nose. Just like he had done on your first date, years ago.

“I love you.” You replied, kissing the skin right below his chin, before nuzzling your nose into his neck. It was crazy how fast you fell into old patterns.

Your mother honked again, which you took as your sign to let go of Robert and get into the car. Before leaving his warm embrace, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, his skin still feeling warm beneath your lips.

You walked to the car, put your backpack on the backseat and before she could even ask you answered the question you knew she was dying to ask you.

“It’s a long story.”

note: if you liked this imagine, don’t forget to like, comment and/or reblog, that’d be greatly appreciated! xx

taglist: (if you’d like to be tagged please let me know!) @tractorbeamofwoe @1twontalwaysbelikethiss @vanmccannsfridge

[vintagepascal]

I have an angsty/fluffy request!!!!! I feel like P has been getting more annoyed with the paps lately and I feel like if they stressed out his love he would get so po'ed, so maybe something about him getting mad or anxious about it (thats the angst), and reader comforting him and then some type of fluffy ending? I don't know if that makes sense but I think it's a fun concept. Ty if you decide to write it!!

LETHAL

AN - thanks so much for requesting love! hope this does it justice :) I used the inspo from that article where Pedro says his protective side is lethal hehe

word count - 3,200

rating - mature

content warnings - angst, no smut, fluffy ending, paparazzi involvement, slight catcalling, but literally the sappiest shit you've ever read how tf did I even conjure this shit oh my god

summary - pedro just wants to take his girl out for a nice date night, but someone at the restaurant sells you out

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

No one was supposed to know. The two of you had done everything right - called ahead with specific instructions but not given your real names, gone at non peak times, asked for a private table in the back of the restaurant away from the windows, taken your car instead of Pedro’s because it was less recognizable. And still, as Pedro scribbled his signature at the bottom of the receipt, you cautioned a look outside and you realized that what you suspected was true as yet another car pulled up to the curb. 

“Pedrito,” you used your softest voice, reaching across the white tablecloth for his hand. He wrapped your fingers up in his automatically, eyes finding yours. The sparkle in them dulled when he saw the look on your face. “We should probably go.”

“You haven’t finished your wine, amor.” His voice was tight, and you saw him crane his neck to get a view of outside for the first time, though he didn’t have a clear view like you did. It wasn’t hard to guess why you were ready to end an otherwise perfect date night early.

“That’s okay, we have more at home,” you smiled, moving your napkin nicely off your lap and onto the table. The first flash of a bulb went off and you swallowed hard. At the table to your left, you saw your favorite security guard, Mateo, stand up. 

“Time to go,” was all he said. 

You saw Pedro’s hand ball up into a fist, and he sucked in a breath between his teeth. 

“No one was supposed to know we were here. Someone must have tipped them off.” 

You reached for his hand, smiling when he opened up and offered you his fingers to lace your own through. 

“It’s alright.”

“It’s really not,” he countered. You knew he was at his wits end, considering the paps had managed to find him every day this week. He didn’t have much choice since he had to go to the gym each day for training, but he’d begged you to stay in the house as much as you could so they’d leave you alone with the promise of a nice date night on Friday to make up for it. 

“Hey.” You ran a thumb across his cheek quickly, hoping no one had a zoom lens where they could find you somehow. “Let’s just get home, yeah? It’s gonna be fine.” He looked down at you, some of the stone softening in his eyes as he did. He squeezed your hand twice before looking over at Mateo who dutifully began to walk forward. It wasn’t lost on you that he stood in front of you rather than Pedro. 

It was more than you anticipated. As soon as the front door opened you were practically blinded, flash after flash going off. You wove your arm around Pedro’s bicep, trusting him to guide you in the direction the car was in. You walked as quickly as you could in your heels, only slowing slightly when you realized your dress was starting to ride up your thighs a bit. 

You could barely make out most of the words that were being yelled at you, but one voice stood out above the rest of the frenzy.

“Nice legs sexy, let us see em!”

And you weren’t the only one who heard.

“What the fuck did you just say?” Pedro turned, and he would have stopped walking if Mateo’s strong grip on his shoulder hadn’t kept him moving towards the car. 

“Get in the car Pedro,” he said matter of factly, opening the door. Pedro waited for you to slide across the backseat first, blocking the opening just in case your maneuvering revealed anything you didn’t want on display.

“I want his name,” Pedro demanded.

“In the car,” Mateo repeated, shaking his head. Pedro looked at you quickly, saw that you were tucked back into the seat as far as you could be and felt his chest tighten. It didn’t matter then, all he needed was to be closer to you. He ducked in and the door shut behind him.

Mateo was quick to circle around to the driver's seat and you were on the road almost immediately, the crowd already scattering behind you in search of their next victim for the evening. 

“Fucking assholes,” Pedro growled, eyes trained out the back windshield for only a moment before he turned to you. “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m good.” It couldn’t have taken more than 30 seconds for you all to get to the car, but your pulse was racing and your ears were ringing and despite your best efforts, your eyes were watering just slightly from the adrenaline. You fought it and won, determined not to cry and add any more fuel to Pedro’s fire. Very little made him mad, but when you were mistreated, there were no bounds he wouldn’t cross. 

“Are you sure?” He found your hand against the leather, eyes hardening when he felt how clammy it was and realized you were hiding how upset you actually were.

“I’m okay,” you whispered, trying to play it off. “That was just a lot.”

“I’m sorry, so so sorry.” His voice was small again. 

“Don’t apologize for them, amor. You didn’t ask for that, it’s not your fault,” you reminded him, lifting his hand up to your lips and kissing his knuckles softly. This wasn’t a new conversation.

“You wouldn’t have to deal with any of that if you weren’t with-“

“Pedro, stop. You know I don’t care about the pictures.”

“The fucking nerve of that guy to say that shit to you…” You could feel the anger roll off him in waves.

“It’s not the first time I’ve heard some shit like that, it’s not the last-”

“And that makes it okay? That’s supposed to make me feel better about it?” He looked at you, exasperated, and somewhat confused that you weren’t as upset as he was. 

“No, of course it’s not okay, but I can handle it. I’m fine.”

You saw him open his mouth again to argue and you knew it would be futile, so you used your last line of defense. You leaned over and kissed him, bracing your hand on his thigh and molding your lips to his. Of course he kissed you back - he’d never had that much self control, but his lips were unrelenting at first, words unsaid keeping his mind racing and away from you. 

“I’m okay Pedrito,” you murmured, kissing along his jaw, smiling when your lips found the smooth heart shaped gap in his beard. “I’m safe, I’m happy, I’m here with you.” 

Your words pulled him back a fraction, your lips helping his jaw to unlock from where he had it clenched. He ran a warm hand along your thigh, trying to ground himself. 

“Bésame,” you asked. His eyes softened - something about you speaking Spanish always got to him and he obliged you, leaning over to kiss you sweetly. He cupped your face gently, getting lost in you for a few minutes of the drive until you were both satisfied. You settled afterwards, with your head on his shoulder, smiling each time he pressed a kiss to your forehead or your hair. 

But you could still feel the tension in his posture, see it in the way he led you into the house when Mateo parked the car, and you knew the storm hadn’t passed. So it wasn’t a total surprise that Pedro stopped in the living room instead of following his usual path to the bedroom. 

“Hey,” you tried. “I’m going to go change, are you coming?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.” You watched him pull his phone out of his pocket, mind already on his next task. You didn’t push it - his heart was in the right place. Always the protector. And so you went about your evening, changing out of your dress (though it would have been easier with Pedro there to help with the zipper) and into a cute matching pj set, perching in bed and waiting. 

And waiting. And waiting. 

Your patience waned after 15 minutes, and you peeked your head out of the bedroom doorway, only barely able to make out the outline of your boyfriend standing on the living room balcony, the sliding door half open and his agitated voice flowing in. 

You settled yourself with a deep breath and moved back into your room, then to the bathroom and over to the clawfoot tub, starting up a bath. When all else failed, you always turned to water. You took your time doctoring it up with all your favorite products until the bathroom resembled a bit of a spa. The only thing missing then was Pedro. 

So you went in search of him, again unsurprised to see him still on the phone. You caught the tail end of his conversation as you pushed the sliding door out of your way. 

“- had to be someone there… Yes, I can respect that you don’t think it was, but I am very respectfully informing you that you’re fucking wrong. Someone within that building sold us out to the paps, and you’re going to figure out who it was, so I can figure out who the hell was outside harassing my girlfriend and who the fuck they work for.”

You slid your hand up Pedro’s back as a way of announcing your presence, coming around to his side and ducking under his arm that was braced against the railing. You wedged yourself between him and the metal, facing him with a smile that he briefly returned, phone still pressed to his ear. With a wiggle of your fingers you motioned for him to hand it to you, your other hand resting on his hip. 

With a small sigh he gave in, passing you his phone. You could hear the restaurant manager babbling and you muted the mic for a moment so you could speak freely.

“I’ll be right there expired a while ago amor,” you teased.

“I’m sorry baby, I just-”

“Don’t let that dick steal any more of our night. We’re okay. I’m okay. I’m safe, I’m happy, I’m here with you,” you repeated your words from earlier, getting up on your tiptoes to brush your nose against his. His resolve was fading, but there was still a dull fire in his eyes, aching to defend you.

“We don’t get enough time like this as it is, let’s enjoy it, yeah?” You hummed, kissing him only once before checking to see. As expected, it worked, and your Pedro was back, all traces of his anger gone from his face. He took his phone back, hanging up without another thought and slipping it away into his pocket.

“Sorry cariño, I got carried away.”

“Apology accepted in the form of you, in the bathtub with wine in the next two minutes,” you grinned, kissing him again and ducking under his arm before disappearing to the bathroom. 

He didn’t disappoint. You had barely stripped and sunk into the water when he returned, two glasses in one hand with a bottle of wine in an ice bucket in the other. 

“Looks like I missed the show,” he teased, looking down at your pile of clothes on the floor. 

“That’s what happens when you’re late. But hey, I’m in my seat and ready for the next act.”

That got a chuckle out of him, paired with a blush that warmed your heart. He took care of you first, pouring two glasses of wine and passing one to you before he got to work taking off his dinner clothes.

You attempted to dog whistle for him, which only ended in you breathing aggressively on your two fingers with a bit of spit ending up in the bathtub, and Pedro giving you a look of pity before you were both laughing. 

“I’ve really got to teach you how to do that love.”

“Oh shut up and get in here.”

You offered him a hand, scooting up so he could settle in behind you. As soon as he was in the water he was guiding you back to lean on his chest, arms coiling around you to hold you to him as he kissed your temple. 

“Does this mean we’re never going to that restaurant again? Cause my capellini was really good,” you ran your fingers up and down his arm that crossed your chest. 

He was silent for a moment before he spoke. “I can make you good capellini.”

You leaned to the side until you could look back at him, quirking an eyebrow. 

“I… can hire you a chef to make you good capellini,” he grinned sheepishly, laughing as he held you against his chest. You relished in the sound as it echoed off the tiles, kissing his skin. 

“I’m kidding baby, we don’t have to go back,” you reassured him. Deciding you’d spent long enough unable to see his face, you maneuvered so you were next to him instead, resting your cheek on his chest with your legs intertwined under the bubbles. It was blissful, and you only sat up to sip your wine or kiss him. 

You enjoyed the silence and soft kisses, light traces of each other’s skin under the water through your first glass, but your tongue loosened up by the second one. 

“Can I ask you something kinda serious?”

“Anything amor,” he hummed, interest piqued.

“Would you ever trade it? The fame, for getting your privacy back?”

“If you’d asked me that before I met you, I would have said no. But I think the answer now might be yes.”

You pushed up off his chest so you could see his eyes, waiting for him to explain. 

“It comes with my job, and my job is all I ever wanted. It’s been my dream since I can remember. I worked my whole life for it, and somewhere deep down I always knew that there were downsides that would come with it if I ever made it big. You hear the horror stories of the crazy people, the stalkers, the paparazzi. And when you’re just trying to make it, it almost makes you jealous in a way. It’s like ‘damn, well if anybody gave a fuck about who I was maybe I’d have to worry about that’. And then you get your break-”

“And people are asking to put their thumbs on your eyeballs in the streets of NYC,” you grin.

“Yeah, yeah exactly. But when it was just me, I could always stomach it because it was also a reminder of like ‘hey, you made it. This is happening because you made it into the big leagues’, you know? But it’s not a fun or glamorous part of it. And now it’s affecting the people I love, and I can’t do normal fucking things, like take you out on a normal date night without us getting swarmed. And you deserve that. You deserve to get your capellini in peace, and I don’t know if I’m ever going to be able to give you that, because that part of my life is always going to be there.”

The sadness on his face brought tears to your eyes, and you turned his face to look at you.

“You’re worth it Pedro.” 

The sadness didn’t budge.

“I mean it,” you continued. “You’re worth all of it. You’re worth more.”

The next kiss was deeper. His lips caught yours with a new appreciation, his teeth catching your bottom lip making your breath freeze in your chest. His arms moved under the water, shifting your body around until you were straddling his thighs, your elbows braced on his shoulders, fingers in his wet hair. 

When you finally broke free to catch your breath, he was looking up at you as if you’d hung the moon. 

“I need you to remind me of that. On the bad days,” he whispered. It wasn’t often that he asked you for reassurances, and the entire premise of it made you melt. 

“Of course baby. Of course I will. You’re always going to be worth it to me, because I love you.” 

“I love you more.”

You shook your head at that, folding down to rest your head on his shoulder. He traced his finger over your spine, back and forth slowly as he kissed your skin. 

“You know, we don’t have to stay in LA when you aren’t filming,” you mused after a few minutes.

“Where would you want to go love? I’ll take you wherever you like.”

“No, I don’t mean a vacation. I mean, we’re in the worst city for privacy in the world. Even New York is better than here, and we already have your place there.” 

He pondered it for a moment, twirling a piece of your hair in his fingers. “I wouldn’t mind spending more time in New York. Don’t know that it would solve our paparazzi problem though, they’re still pretty bad there.”

“Then we could go even further. Not long term, but I mean hell. Oscar has that second house in Hawaii he always offers to us, you know he’d let us stay. Or we could go to Chile, see your family.” 

“Chile? You’d go to Chile?”

“Why not?” You asked. “I mean, I don’t know that I’d want to move that far away, but of course I’d love to go for longer than just the few days we got to go last time.”

“You’d do that for me?” 

You weren’t sure if it was the wine, or the pure bewilderment on his face, or maybe the realization that he just couldn’t fathom how much you truly loved him, but you began to laugh. 

“What do I have to do to get it through that brain of yours hmm?” 

“You’re worth it-” you punctuated it with a kiss before you continued. “I love you-” another. “I’d do anything for you.” He was smiling then, leaning up to meet you. “I’d go anywhere with you.”

“Yeah?” He murmured against your lips, chasing you in a bid to kiss you longer. 

“I’d marry you tomorrow if you asked.” The words stumbled off your tongue before you could stop them, but you didn’t care, you were too wine drunk and in love to think about them.

Pedro caught them though, kissing you again with a smile and waiting for you to lean back. 

“Tomorrow huh?” 

You blushed as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Well in that case I need to call the jeweler and see if they’re still open this late.” He dramatically pretended to check his watch, making you roll your eyes at his antics.

“Ah yes, nothing like a Friday night ring shopping escapade.”

“Who says I still need to shop? I bet they’d let me pick it up, it should be done.” 

You felt your mouth drop open, but you couldn’t quite find the muscles to close it. Pedro kept his smug smile for a moment, basking in it as he reached up with his finger on your chin. 

“You’re worth it,” he returned your words, leaning up to kiss you again. “I’d do anything for the future Mrs. Balmaceda Pascal.”

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Blooming Showers

Pairing: TASM!Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: A split-second decision leads to a night full of changes

Word Count: 3610

Warnings: Angst with some fluff at the end, little use of Y/N, assigned nickname towards the end, distrust, anger, wound/mention of blood, anxiety, racing thoughts, friends-to-lovers

A/N: This is definitely my longest piece I’ve written in a really long time. I started watching TASM with my cousin and friends and immediately fell in love with Andrew Garfield all over again so I NEEDED to write something. This isn’t smutty but I kind of want to do a part two thats smutty and angsty

I do not own these characters. Do NOT repost my writing and/or fics anywhere without my written permission. Reblogs are welcomed and highly appreciated!

Rain softly padded against the window, causing the lights from outside to cast soft shadows, the lights from passing cars making those shadows dance. It was quiet, almost serene in New York - the sirens were few a far between tonight, and distant as well, the occasional coo of a bird trying to find shelter - there were no kids running down the fire escape trying to sneak out, no couples in petty arguments that shook through the thin walls.

Nights like this were few and far in-between, where for a few minutes you were able to fall in love with your city all over again, and you were able to remember every reason why you wanted to be here. 

The only thing that would've made the night better would have been seeing Peter, your lifelong best friend, and partner-in-chaos. Your phone lit up occasionally with messages from him, apologizing over and over for missing another scheduled movie night. 

It wasn't the end of the world, Aunt May needed help with something so you understood, but it still stung. This was the 4th one this year he'd miss. You understood when there was a foot of snow on the ground, and when midterms then finals week came, but it had felt like since graduation two weeks ago that Peter had been avoiding you. 

Trying not to dwell on the sinking feeling was hard, so many changes were happening and your brain was becoming more and more hyper-aware that more changes were bound to come. Graduation may overall be a good thing, opening up new opportunities and finally not having to worry about classes you'd never use a day in your adult life, but it also meant that you were about to start a new chapter of life. 

In an attempt to stop the racing thoughts, you decided Fuck Peter for missing your movie night and decided to watch a movie anyways. Pressing play on an old favorite, you left the comfort of your bed to grab some snacks from the kitchen. 

Ten minutes. That's all you were gone, but in those ten minutes, the city's beloved vigilante slid your window open, practically tumbling off of the fire escape and onto the floor. He did his best to avoid your bed, not wanting to soak it in the rain or the blood that was on him. 

There was a cut through his suit, not deep but enough to nick the skin and have scarlet drops dripping down. He reached for a towel that had been carelessly discarded by you earlier in the night, haphazardly tying his cut up with his free hand and then pulling his mask off. 

Peter's breaths were rugged, head now leaned back against your bed as he tried to calm himself from the adrenaline rush of the near-death experience he just had. Sure, he only had a cut and a few bruises to show for it, but he knew deep down without his enhanced sense he surely would have been dead. He hadn't even processed the split-second decision he made to go to your apartment instead of Aunt May's house. 

It wasn't until your shrill scream, the sound of the snacks hitting the floor that Peter's eyes flew open, looking at you as if he had just been caught committing a crime. His eyes were wide, realizing at that very moment the weight of his actions and inactions for the past several years. He didn't dare move, only a breathy sigh of your name leaving his lips. 

Your brain moved quickly once you realize that the intruder sitting on your floor was Peter… Your Peter, dressed in a red and blue skin-tight suit, holding a mask, with your towel wrapped around his arm. There had to be a reasonable explanation. 

"Peter?" You knew it was him, but your brain was still attempting to come up with some explanation as to why he was dressed as Spider-Man. 

You quickly grabbed the stuff you had dropped, putting it on the bed and kneeling next to him. "Peter, what the fuck is going on?"

He stared at you, blinking a few times and not sure what to say. He knew there was a lot he needed to say, a lot that needed to be explained but he didn't know where to start. He's been lying to you about a part of himself for years now. 

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, breaths still shaky. 

You now realized the towel was covering a cut, the smell of iron mixed with city rain present in your nose. "Shit, what the fuck. Are you okay? What the hell is going on?" 

He nodded, "I've been worse," he mumbled. "I'll be fine, don't worry 'bout me." He leaned his head back against your bed again, taking a heavy breath in. 

That was the worst thing he could have said to you. Don't worry, at this point, you were worried and confused about everything. 

"Peter, you're my best friend, you know I love you, but if I do not get an answer as to what is going on in the next minute I am kicking your ass and calling May."

His eyes opened, looking over at you. The look of regret and hurt was evident, "I'm so sorry," he said, barely moving. His body ached but his heart was aching more as he watched the expressions on your face change the more you noticed and pieced things together, "I should've told you but I was scared you'd get hurt."

"Peter, what should you have told me?" Your voice was betraying you, breaking and quivering as you attempted to be firm. 

"I- I'm Spider-Man, I've always been. That's- Something happened tonight and I had to go help-"

"So you've been lying to me for 5 years now?"

He went silent and all he could muster was a small nod. 

"You've been hiding this from me for 5 years? Peter - I - we tell each other everything. If you've been lying about this, then what else are you fucking lying about?"

The hurt in your voice was evident. It was more like betrayal, and distrust, and it wrenched his heart and gut. The silence lingered as you started piecing more and more together. 

Five years. For five whole years, through your senior year of high school and the entirety of your college career, you spent attached at the hip to Peter Benjamin Parker - and he had been lying to you about a pivotal part of his life. 

In hindsight, finding out Peter had been Spider-Man all this time made a lot of things make sense. Five years’ worth of last-minute cancellations, questionable excuses, black eyes, and bruises. 

There was your senior prom. Aunt May was so excited that Peter and you were going together, she had always joked and wished the two of you would end up as more than friends. "Just memories for your wedding one day", she would say. 

Everything leading up to prom was great. Peter went dress shopping with you, he got a tie to match the color of your dress, Aunt May made sure the two of you had a matching boutonniere and corsage, he even took you to and from your appointments the day of prom.

However, an hour into prom itself he had to leave hurriedly, frantically coming up with an excuse of not feeling good when moments prior you had just finished taking pictures and laughing at the cheesy poses. 

That one stung, but you never admitted it, at least not to him. Peter had insisted you stay behind, spend time with other friends and he'd see you the next day. You're not even sure if he knows you left 20 minutes after he did, heartbreaking and feeling stupid for hoping Aunt May could be right. 

The summer between your senior year of high school and your freshman year of college was filled with last-minute cancellations. 

Since you were kids, specifically since second grade every Friday night was movie night and a sleepover. Even as you grew into teenagers Aunt May and your parents worked out an arrangement they could both be comfortable with to let you two continue your little tradition. But that summer every single one was canceled or Peter would leave early. 

For weeks you were convinced Peter no longer wanted to be friends with you, that somehow, some way you upset him and he hated you. Until a week before college started and he called you out of the blue for coffee and school shopping. 

Suddenly, things seemed normal again. Aunt May's house was close enough that Peter would go home for the weekend, and you would usually just follow along for Friday and then head back to your dorm Saturday. You'd meet up to study a few times a week or go run errands together, you were even back to gaming together once a week. 

So, you figured that Peter's sudden change in behavior could have been from his break up with Gwen. You knew he didn't take it easy when she ended things after finding out she was accepted into Oxford. You couldn't blame her really, but you weren't happy to see Peter's heart breaking. He talked about it some, but his eyes would always tell you more than he actually would. 

Of course, Peter would bail occasionally throughout college, but a lot of it made sense. He forgot about a project due or was just plain tired from working part-time and doing school. 

The part that never made sense though were the bruises and scratches. Peter always had an excuse; got hurt in the lab, fell skateboarding, hurt himself helping Aunt May. But at the end of the day, that's all they were; Excuses. 

Peter reached out to you, the touch of his cold hand bringing you back from your racing thoughts. "I…I know I shouldn't have hid it, (Y/N), I'm sorry I did. There was so much going on, so many threats and I- I just didn't want you to get hurt. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if you got hurt."

Tears began to prick your eyes, instantly jumping away from his touch, the feeling of dread and distrust sinking deeper into you with the singular move.  "And what if you got hurt? How do you expect me to live with myself if you died?" Your voice was still shaky, fear now starting to fill in the gaps between each emotion. 

Your eyes wandered to the towel he had tied around himself, blood beginning to seep through. "Peter," you reached for his arm but he grabbed your hand, stopping you and making you look him in the eyes. 

"I'm okay, I promise. It'll heal quickly, just needed to stop the blood… I'll buy you a new towel." His voice was soft, his gaze never leaving yours. 

"I'm not worried about the stupid towel, Peter." You sighed, "I- How could you have hidden this from me for so long?" You asked again, this time much more upset than angry. 

Peter let out a shaky breath, his body finally starting to come down from the adrenaline and the full weight of his actions set in. "(Y/N), I mean it when I say I wanted to tell you," his voice was sincere, still holding onto your hand that had reached for his cut, "But I was more worried about your safety and making sure you wouldn't prioritize worrying about me over the rest of your life. The only person alive that knows is Harry. I never told anyone else, Aunt May doesn't even know."

It still hurt that Peter never told you, but it was starting to make sense, "How does Aunt May not know?" 

Peter shrugged, offering you a soft chuckle, "You know she only sees and hears what she wants to. I never told her, but I'm also shocked she hasn't figured it out."

Peter gave you a look that made you know he was truly sorry, lower lip pouted out some, eyes big and wide, almost looking like a kicked puppy. "I know I have a lot to explain to you, and I know I need to rebuild your trust in me, but I need you to understand that I am really sorry for hiding it for this long. I've wanted to tell you since it all started, but I was told that it could put everyone around me in danger if they knew so I didn't want anyone to find out."

As much as you hated it, you did understand it. Giving him a soft nod, you let go of his hand instead of moving to rake your hand through his hair to get it out of his face. "I understand, but I don't like it."

"You don't like anything that doesn't go your way," he teased with a soft laugh, quickly earning a glare from you that made him laugh more. "I'll also explain everything once I'm not still soaked and healing." He said, motioning to his arm. 

You nodded, "Did you wanna go take a shower? I can make some food or order takeout."

Peter thought for a moment then nodded. He unwrapped his arm, looking at the little scratch that was left behind from the wound he had not even 20 minutes prior. "Yeah, yeah let me go shower… do yo-"

"I'll put your clothes and a clean towel by the sink for you once you're in the shower. I'll also take your suit and the towel you have and throw it in the wash, okay? You just go get cleaned up while I find us some food."

Peter nodded, giving you a quick hug and kiss on the forehead before disappearing from your room. It took you a moment, immediately sitting down on the bed, attempting to process everything. 

Your best friend of 15 years is Spider-Man. Your favorite person is your favorite superhero. Your best friend has lied to you to be able to go save people. Your best friend could have died, and has probably almost died countless times.

To say it was a lot to take in was an understatement.

You could hear the shower start running in the room next to yours, the sound thankfully pulling you from your spiraling thoughts and panic. As you moved through the apartment, throwing a frozen pizza in the oven and collecting some spare clothes Peter had left behind at your place before, the emotions started to make sense. 

Yes, it did hurt that Peter had hidden this, but his reasoning made sense. The hurt that you couldn't shake was how many times you could have lost him. He could have been dead on top of a skyscraper, no one able to discover his body with how high up he is, and you would've been none the wiser. Or if he died on the streets and eventually was unmasked you'd be left to mourn with the rest of the world instead of being able to process the loss of your other half in private. You'd be learning and losing so much so quickly. You'd be lost in a pool of emotions so chaotic it would make this moment seem calm. 

Peter was back in your room about 20 minutes later, the pizza fresh out of the oven and sitting on the bed with you. You were looking at the TV, not really watching the forgotten movie you put on. As much as you tried to not let your thoughts continue to run wild, your brain didn't want to listen. 

He moved the pizza to the closest surface and sat on your bed, immediately pulling you in for a hug when he saw the lost look on your face. Your mind felt like it was a broken record, spinning fast but on repeat. 

"What's going through your head?"

There was no reason to reiterate the same thing you had told him earlier. You pulled off of him, sighing deeply before giving him a small smile, "A lot, but I'll be okay."

He nodded, "So… movie night? I definitely owe you one."

You nodded, looking up at the screen momentarily, your gaze being pulled to your phone as a new news alert popped up about Spider-Man. You didn't bother checking it, but you're brain did finally click the two puzzle pieces together fully that Peter is Spiderman. 

You looked over at him with narrowed eyes and a slight pout, "You're fucking Spider-Man," your tone was accusatory which caught him off guard, a slow nod all he was able to offer before you continued, "You have let me tell you for years that I'm in love with Spider-Man. That I would marry this person I thought I'd never meet. That's so embarrassing!" You whined at the end. 

Peter chuckled, a blush on his features and his hand going to mess with the back of his head. "Yeah… you finally realize that means you've been saying you're in love with me for like… 4ish years now?" He teased. 

It was a joke. It was just banter which was typical for Peter. He was always teasing, playful, and borderline flirty with you. But that statement rang a little too true. You froze, movements and breath seemingly paused, and Peter quickly noticed that your heart rate quickened. 

It wasn't the first time that happened around him. He's noticed countless times before how your skin would heat up and your heart rate would increase when he complimented you. He even noticed when he would do something, only sometimes accidentally, that would turn you on. Peter, not wanting to ruin your friendship or make you uncomfortable, never acted on it though. 

"You okay, daisy?" It was a nickname he didn't use often, but one that he's called you forever. It held a special place for him, a reminder of some of his first memories of you - flower hair pins and daisy doodles all over your school papers. It was also a term that usually had you flustered and stumbling. 

"You finally realize I've been in love with you longer than that?" 

Now it was Peter's turn to freeze, taking a moment to make sure he heard you right. He watched as you squirmed some, re-situating yourself and pulling at your clothes, heart rate quickening and eyes avoiding his. 

It made sense really, but he couldn't believe it. Peter has had a crush on you since your 5th-grade school dance where you wore a dress your parents let you pick out, so you were beaming with pride and excitement. He remembers you spending the night at Aunt May's after, staying up all night eating snacks and playing video games. 

Every day since he's made himself believe there was no way you'd like him back. Peter believed you were far out of his league, and even if that wasn't true he was too scared of losing you to take the risk of pursuing something more. 

"How long?" Maybe that wasn't the right response but he wanted to know, felt like he needed to know. 

"Longer than I can remember," you responded, breath shaky, "I can't lose you, Peter… I - Spider-Man or not, I can't lose you. And you coming in tonight, wounded and dropping a massive secret like that on me - Peter, you really scared me. I love you and losing you would kill me."

"You're not gonna lose me," his voice was soft.

"Don't make any promises you can't keep," you could feel the tears starting to form. 

Peter moved to you, his large hands coming to cup your face and make you look at him. "I'm not making a promise I can't keep. You're not gonna lose me. Not now, not because of being Spider-Man, not ever."

He waited for you to blind away your tears, using his hands to squish your cheeks in an attempt to cheer you up a little. Once he got a soft laugh out of you, he broke out into a smile. "I love you," he said firmly, "I'm in love with you. I have been since we were kids." He confessed to you. "So I mean it, I'm not going anywhere."

Peter watched your eyes get wide as you processed what he said, feeling your skin heat up under his hands, "Can I kiss you?" His voice was soft and airy. 

A slight nod was all he needed before he pressed his lips to yours. It was intense and soft and sweet, everything and anything all at once. Butterflies erupted from low in your belly and vibrated your chest. His chapped lips moved in sync against your bite-swollen lips, sending waves of electricity and emotions down your spine and through every nerve. 

He pulled away, leaning his forehead against yours as the both of you caught your breaths. His hands fell from your face, searching for your own hands. "I know I have a lot to explain, I have a lot of work to do to make you feel secure and know I'll be here, but I'll do whatever it takes, daisy, I promise." 

She huffed out a small laugh, pulling away and nodding, "Thank you, Petey," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before pulling away fully, giggling at the almost shocked look he had on his face, "Looks like we both have a lot to get used to." Your gaze softened some, "No more secrets?"

Peter laughed as well, grabbing your hands and bringing them to his lips, presently multiple kisses to them. "No more secrets

[euphietea]

To Skin a Lion.

Jo Togame. [ 1/? ] cw. angsty. tattooing mentions. yakuza mentions. note. linked reference list & websites used at bottom.

Jou Togame sits across from you at the floor table politely, legs folded under him and back straight. His shoulders curled forward, eyes lost in the waves of fragrant tea. He hadn’t touched the porcelain cup since it was offered to him. He hadn’t spoken in about fifteen minutes. Maybe he didn’t prepare for what this entailed.

He hadn’t left yet, which was a good sign. You sigh. He looks up to you. Lush green obscured by sunset-tinted lenses. Breaking your typical decorum, you reach across the table and touch the arms of the shades. At the slightest pull, he reacts. His calloused, scarred hands grip your wrists reflexively, digging into the nerve and numbing your senses. Your chest tightens and you search his fingers pointlessly. The days of Yubitsume were over, thus those in their twenties and even thirties kept all their digits.

He looked just like your usual clientele. Yakuza men were often muscular, imposing, and formal in their stature. They lose their ‘thuggish’ attitude years after recruitment due to training regiments under their elders. Jou, in his late twenties, fits the bill for a full fledged Yakuza. The thing was... He respected you. He didn’t question your ability nor did he ask for your master’s approval. He genuinely sought out your insight upon first meeting. You could tell by how he treated you that he was not one of them.

He recoils back, fingers curled around his forehead. His shoulders rise and fall in a deep, shaken breath.

“It’s fine, really,” You soften your voice, uncertain on how long he’d been fighting for to develop this type of reflex to a simple touch, “I just thought it might be easier without the shades. Keep them on if they’re more comfortable, okay?”

As his shaggy head pulls up, you see the ounce of pain behind his smile-crescent eyes, “No, you’re right.” He pulls the shades off and sets them on the table, “Isn’t there some phrase about rose tinted glasses?”

“Yeah, but those are yellow,” You note, trying to make a joke out of the obvious.

“Like piss,” he jests back.

“Like hope.”

Jou’s full attention was on you, mouth opening slightly. His stiff posture breaks for once as a strong, thick arm bears his full weight while he laughs. It sounds like the soft warmth of velvet.

Your own body melts tension away. Vulnerability is challenging, especially for someone who seemingly has steeled himself from enjoying those around him. You finally bridge the gap with a teasing lilt, “Are you ready to talk to me now? I can’t keep coaxing a lion to stop its pacing~”

“Yeah, yeah,” He waved off your teasing, the corner of his mouth cutting up in half-moon grin, “You’ll be jabbing me with those things if I talk right?” His chin jerks in the direction of the tebori hanging on the wall, “Ain’t that the opposite of torture? You’re supposed to jab me first then I’ll talk. You’re one backwards interrogator, miss.”

“Glad we’re on the same page~.” you jest with a chuckle, resting your cheek in your hand. He truly was a beautiful man when he smiled, “Let’s start from the top, mkay?” You steadied your heart. People do not close up so tight because their life is easy.

“Alright,” Jou takes a deep, steadying breath. He recounts his life to you, immersing you in his cherished past. Reliving the good days surrounds him in wistful melancholy – steeped like the untouched tea in front of him in fond memories. His smile longed for days lost in heartfelt connection. The very sun graced the barren soil of his life with lush, vibrant flora. Striving for the path of strength and freedom lead the sun to hide behind the clouds, swept away amidst heavy beads of rain. Withering away with each brother he skinned with his own teeth and claws, a mere lion could do nothing but sacrifice himself for the hope that the rain will end.

“...I failed him.” This lion’s roar was but a weak murmur. Jou’s chin rose, aquiline nose pointed towards the sun. His tears flow freely like the very rain he wished away, trailing down his softly curved jaw.

Your heart twists. Your professional constitution melts at the edges. You did not wish to interject in his story. You held no place along the canvas of his life. He so clearly craved comfort - to lighten the burden eating away at his mighty frame. Instinctively you reach out, fingers dangling hesitantly. Your intention was to simply provide comfort along the curve of his shoulder – you are met with curve of his dampened cheek. You are a professional. You are to create a tapestry of his journey, his goals, his very essence. Nothing more.

“This will be a very long process,” You begin carefully, keeping your voice steady, “I won’t do a traditional bodysuit. It'll have munewari but no kame-no-koh. It will just be the front.” Your thumb strokes the curve of his cheek, sweeping up a drying tear, “Until you make amends in the way that you want, I won’t complete your mane. It’s fitting for one who skins their own pride for the sake of the sun.”

His softened gaze lingers on yours, lapping at the clear waters of your affectionate after years of fasting. They reflect the beauty of raw malachite, relentlessly purifying the blackened tar of those around him. To polish it is to take the risk of poison with the reward of its adamant protection.

A professional.

The word jerks you out of a shared mirage. You reluctantly withdraw your soothing touch. You were not a shelter from the monsoon. You could never be the reprieve from his own self sacrifice. He turns his cheek as you pull back. The flesh of his lips graze the soft pads of your fingers, desiring one last lap at the illusory spring. He sits back, not an ounce of remorse for his wanton action.

As if the moment hadn’t been shared at all, you collect the remnants of your so called professionalism.

“Come back tomorrow and we’ll start from there.”

He obliged, thanking you and scheduling his appointment. He waves to you solemnly as he leaves, lips tilted in wistful grin. The lion readily greets the melancholic downpour in hopes to see the sun.

You begin to sketch a plan – the feel of his lips haunting your fingertips.

references.

terms used.

tebori. traditional tool for tattooing. made of bamboo and used to manually insert ink into the skin using 1-6 needles. typically used for horimono and irezumi by a horishi.

horishi. tattoo master as well as a term for block print/block carving artesian.

horimono. term for tattoos. usually refer to traditional styled tattoos resembling block/wood prints and carvings. have a historical context, but also a general term for the style of tattoo. preferred over the term irezumi due to it having a more neutral context.

irezumi. term for a tattoo. in history, the name of tattoos given to mark prisoners. often used to describe body suit tattoos typically seen on yakuza, however the term has historical context expanding prior to yakuza.

munewari. the gap of skin in a body suit to give the illusion of a happi.

kami-no-koh. the back piece of a body suit. it is usually the centerpiece of the horimono and often contain the main subject.

yubitsume. practice of the yakuza of cutting off the tip of a finger for atonement when defying yakuza rules.

since there are not many academic sources for horimono references, here are some websites i used. xx xx xx xx

[zee-143]

☆Felix x Black! Reader(Fem! Reader)♡

A/N: Hey black girlies 😍❤ I'm also a black girlie so I've been dying to do this!! Also, if you're not black and wanna read please do!! I don't really care just no hate!!! We need more kpop x black readers frr😭 Btw if u know any people who write them pls tell me! Uhm, one more thing, this is my first time writing like a story kinda one shot thing..? Basically, sorry if it isn't amazing. I'm still learning so pls enjoy ❣️❣️

Genre: Fluff☁💕 but sorta angsty??

Warnings: Nothing ✨

Summery: You're insecure about your curly hair so Felix tried to help you feel better ( and sorta failed)

You frowned, staring at your reflection in the mirror. It wasn't a pretty sight, you thought. Your hair was so messy and boring. This definitely wasn't how you wanted to start the day with. Especially since you have a date with Felix. Dealing with this mess of hair you couldn't control? Huge bummer. Though with a problem, there's always a solution.

You slid open your vanity drawer, rummaging around all the random hair products and combs. Your face brightened as you pulled out a hair straightener

"Perfect! "

You found a place to plug it in. You turned on the device, unsure of what to do next. You hadn't actually had any experience with straightening your hair. This is the first time but dealing with your stupid curly hair is way harder. What was difficult about straight hair? You shrugged of the feeling of uneasiness.

You placed the straightener near your hair. You hesitated slightly, placing the curly ends of your hair in between the tool. You worried that it would burn your hair or something. You've seen plenty girls on social media though doing it for real is nerve wrecking.

You press the straightener down onto your hair, leaving it for a few seconds before satisfyingly pulling it away. You were astonished to find how well it worked out! Your hair was straight and some how not burned. Eagerness and excitement took over your whole body. You pulled the hair straightener back to try another piece of hair

"Sunshine~ Are you almost rea-"

Felix stopped mid sentence, standing frozen at the doorway. You hadn't noticed him at all as you successfully straitened more bunches of hair. Felix moved so quickly, you couldn't react to how he carefully snatched the hair tool away. He unplugged then placed it on your vanity table.

You stared at him, a look of surprise. Felix stared back at you, instead with eyes of worry. A loud silence echoed around the room. You wanted to say something, but what? That you didn't know

"I like your hair"

Felix stated. You cocked an eyebrow, unsure of what he was on about. Felix noticed this so he continues

"You don't have to straighten it, is all I'm saying. You have a beautiful hair texture"

Felix shrugged, staring at you. His face had a sense of calmness but you could tell he wanted to say more.

"There's nothing special about it. It's honestly boring and difficult to manage"

You respond in a monotone voice. Felix couldn't tell whether you were just saying that or you were serious. He crossed his arms and hummed in thought

"Well... "

Felix pulled you into his chest, holding you in a tight hug

"That doesn't mean you should change it. You've never straightened it before. I don't get it... "

You listened to the concern in his voice. It hurt you to make him feel this way. Felix hates it when you change something about yourself. He'd rather get stabbed a billion times than not have the real you.

"It's complicated" You answer

"Then explain it to me"

Felix wasn't backing down any time soon. He needed to know what you hated so much about your hair. You may think he doesn't know, but he knows. He knows how you wish your hair was straight. He knows how you wish you didn't have to deal with such a 'messy' hair type. Felix knew everything and it hurt him every time you said something bad about yourself. Sure, Felix isn't in your position, so he'd never know why you feel this way. He wanted to know though. Every little detail.

"We're gonna be late for our date, you know?" You didn't know what else to say

"I don't care. We're not going anymore"

Felix pulled away. He held your hands tightly and scanned your face. You were about to question it but he stopped you

"We're not going anywhere until you tell me what's wrong with your hair. And don't use those lame excuses. Be honest with me... "

"I dunno"

"You can't not know. Are you insecure about your hair or something? "

Silence filled the room. For the first time, you didn't have an answer. You didn't say anything. It was weird. Imagine being insecure about your hair?

"No"

You lied. Felix sighed. He knows you're not telling the truth.

"Fine...but 𝘐 like your hair, alright? I think.. I think it's so unique and special. There's only so much I can do with mine. Yours has so many possibilities. I love it just like I love you"

Felix kissed your forehead. His hands let go of yours. You stared blankly at him, unable to form a proper sentence. His words were so simple. This touched your heart though.

Felix strolled away from you, stepping out the door. He gave you a quick smile before leaving and closing the door behind him. You wanted to tell him to come back. You decided against it.

Staring at your reflection in the vanity mirror had you realize something. Your hair was yours and there was nothing hair products or even a straightener could fix. You still hated that. You knew Felix only cares about you. He worries too much, you thought. You picked up the hair straightener again, plugging it in. Your reflection seemed to be mocking you. You ignored it. It was all your decision. What more can an insecure black girl do?

Please tell me what you think!!

[peakbys]

A MINUTE AND GONE

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader Summary: Quieter moments with Tommy almost feel like you're in another world, and you can't bring yourself to walk away when they present themselves. Request: Yes.            → @runnning-outof-time asked: Hi there! I saw that your requests were open and couldn’t pass up on the opportunity - you’re such an amazing writer! Would you be willing to write something for Tommy using the prompt "I believe this belongs to you."  ?? I’m not sure how you feel about prompts, but I’m not the best at requesting things and so they’re always a go-to for me. Feel free to ignore this if you’re not interested. Thanks so much in advance if you choose to write it! 💕 Warnings: I went into this with the intention of fluff, but it got more angsty than intended. So, heads up for a dysfunctional relationship and reader's conflicting feelings. There's still some lightness to it, ofc. It's a mixed bag. Note: Thanks for sending this in! Took me a minute to get around to it due to life, but I hope you enjoy it!

Things were never simple with Tommy.

Sure, you knew what he and his family were, yet it was difficult to be pulled into that life from what would have been considered outside. Even with the close and intimate relationship you had with Tommy, it was a hard feeling to shake. Outsider, not really allowed in too close. Whether that meant you not being too involved in the business or not being allowed too deep into Tommy’s mind depended on the day, sometimes. For a while, you had accepted that. Some days, you accepted that the human mind and heart was too complex for a simple black-and-white idea that he didn’t have room for you. 

There was always someone else, you knew that. It filled you with such bitterness sometimes, and yet in others you supposed you could understand. 

It had you feeling like you were being torn between two mindsets on it. Sometimes you swore you were done, that you’d leave. Other times, you just couldn’t shake him and you found yourself trying to just make it work to the best you could. It was overly complicated, sometimes too much to really explain with words. (As much as you caught the odd knowing look from some of the other Shelby women.) 

Perhaps that was why you weren’t berated too hard for the little outburst you had the other night. Usually, you did your best to keep that behind closed doors, yet it felt like you couldn’t really stop it from coming out when it did. A little spat and argument at a public function with Tommy didn’t seem too bad for what you had seen in pubs and other functions like that, yet a part of you couldn’t help but kick yourself when the anger had subsided. Yet, your pride wouldn’t let you admit that in the moment. Really, you were stuck with some feelings that were all too familiar. 

Anger, discarded, hurt, like you couldn’t compare or compete. It wasn’t until a few days after the event that you realized it was that sense of competition that caused you the most issues. 

That night, Tommy hadn’t really done anything to set you off. Other times, definitely, but that fact had settled in when you had fallen asleep without saying another word to each other. You were lashing out from an insecurity that had plagued you long before you even got close to Tommy, but it certainly had a lot to play off of with him. That realization had come with a heavy pit of embarrassment that took another day before it was too much for your pride to push back. 

Apologies weren’t always a huge struggle for you, but when it came to things like this? It was hard to form the words. You knew you didn’t want to pick at it, make things worse, but it was more like you didn’t really have the words for the explanation that followed. 

It was with those thoughts you found yourself approaching his office, stepping inside with somewhat slow, cautious steps. You shut the door behind you softly, lingering by the door as you took in the scene before you. 

It was almost ill-fitting, how beautiful the day out was. 

It lightened up the room, giving a natural light that seemed all too inviting. As much as Tommy had only given you a flicker of his gaze in your direction in acknowledgement of your presence, even he seemed relaxed. He was notoriously difficult to read, sometimes. Expressions flashing in a small flicker on his face, his eyes more cold than you could stand at points. It was hard to tell what he was thinking, especially when things were rough. 

On the other hand, ironically enough, he was easier to read in neutral moments like this. 

He was focused, yet he didn’t seem that frustrated. A touch bored, maybe, but nothing that really suggested to you that you couldn’t approach him. That you should rethink your intentions on showing up there. 

With a small, reassuring breath out, you finally approached him. 

“Are you busy?” you asked, placing your hands on the back of a vacant chair in front of his desk. 

“I’m always busy,” he replied matter-of-factly, “This can wait, though.” 

Tommy looked at you, then, giving you his full attention. His expression was neutral, gaze expectant. You had a hard time not meeting his gaze, feeling your fingers dig into the back of the chair somewhat as a sense of nervousness settled. You couldn’t help but wonder if it would have been easier if he had just let you talk while he worked, yet you knew this was the best way to do this. In a way, you were almost intimidated by the genuineness of it. 

“I…wanted to apologize,” you stated after a moment, “For what happened a couple of nights ago. That it’s taken this long to even say that. I was…lashing out over something that wasn’t anything you caused. I was acting like a frustrated child. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry.” 

He seemed to take that in for a moment, meeting your gaze before he leaned back in his chair somewhat, the touch of a grin crossing his face. 

“Believe it or not, that was not the first time someone’s lashed out at me in public,” he replied, “I thought it was something like that. I’ve already forgiven it.”

“I…still wanted you to hear that. From me,” you said, taken a little off guard by the casualness of the conversation. Yet, in all honesty, you weren’t sure how he’d react anyway. 

Despite only giving you a nod in return to that, you couldn’t help but feel some sort of relief upon hearing his words. There it was again, pulling you back toward him again when you had promised yourself, yet again, that you weren’t going to. A part of you knew that it would probably do you better to actually say what you mean–to actually explain your behavior outside of acknowledging that it was out of line. 

Yet, a bigger part of you in that moment was just tired. Of the overthinking, the seriousness, the isolation, the frustration–all of it. 

You knew you let it win when you backed away from the chair, but didn’t leave the room. The wheels in your head had started to turn, and the idea that formed was quite appealing. If he’d humor it, you supposed. It wouldn’t hurt to offer. With some mild amusement, you stepped forward as you fought to keep a small grin from slipping onto your face. 

“Well, if that’s how it is…” you began, pausing a moment before you held your hand out toward him, “I believe this belongs to you.” 

It was hard not to grin at the slight confusion that settled into his expression, his sharp gaze searching your own as you flexed your fingers somewhat invitingly. Amusing as it was, and you didn’t want to ruin the moment by spelling it out for him, yet you knew you wouldn’t leave him in suspense for much longer. Though, after a few moments, you realized that you may not have to. The realization that settled softened his expression, his eyes brightening in a similar amusement. 

Tommy’s smiles were rare–the full ones, at least. The ones that almost changed his face and let you catch a glimpse of someone he might’ve been before the war and the world he lived in hardened him. The ones you were fortunate enough to catch always seemed to catch you off guard–in a good way, at least. So, it was hard to hold back the one you were hiding when he gave you one at that moment. 

“Now you want to dance, eh?” he asked, making you chuckle. 

“I promised,” you replied with a light shrug, still (somewhat awkwardly) holding your hand out. 

You had left that night before you had gotten the chance, and you figured perhaps this would be a good signal to show that you really just wanted to move on from the whole thing. You knew it didn’t solve what caused it in the first place, but it was hard to make the decision to ruin a moment like this. Despite everything, moods seemed high and your resolve had crumbled plenty over the last couple of days. 

Luckily, it seemed like his resolve didn’t need much poking to fall in that moment, either. 

“You’re leadin’, then?” he asked teasingly as he took your offered hand, which prompted a small chuckle from you as you pulled him further into the office where there was some more space. 

“I barely know how to dance as it is, so no,” you said, letting him pull you in closer to him. 

Tommy slipped his arm around your lower back as you rested your own on his, your free hands entwining in what was a loose representation of waltzing positions. You tried to mirror his movements in what was a light sway, no music and much too close for what it probably would have been if you had managed a dance that evening. Yet, you really couldn’t find it in yourself to care about that, sinking into his touch as you leaned your head onto his shoulder. 

It was odd. For all the violence that Tommy had within himself, it was moments like the current that surprised you. The small, tender moments that he could show behind closed doors or with people he trusted. So, in a way, you supposed that it had to mean something that he was willing to do this so freely with you. Yet, it was hard to say that with much certainty, especially when it came to Tommy. 

Yet, despite the doubts, it really only had you grasping these moments alone with him all the tighter. 

“...I don’t know if I understand you, love,” Tommy admitted quietly after a few more moments of your silent dancing. You couldn’t help but let out a soft huff at that, almost a touch bitter. 

“Next to you, I must look like a half complete puzzle at worst,” you replied, somewhat muffled as you still were pressed close to his shoulder. 

“Maybe.” 

“Maybe we just don’t know each other that well,” you muttered, although you knew the proximity and the quietness of the room would allow him to hear every word of that. 

You weren’t entirely wrong, either. On your own side, at least, but you doubted if he wanted more out of this than the odd event and nights spent together that the crumbs that he knew about you would be enough. Really, maybe a part of you should have realized that he wasn’t someone who would just let you in easily–from what you knew about him, that made complete sense. In a way, a part of you knew that was the case and made sure not to share more than what he gave you. 

You weren’t without your own walls, after all. 

Still, it seemed like it was enough to keep you around. The rope that kept you close to him certainly pulled tight at points, but it hadn’t snapped just yet. 

“We’ll do somethin’ soon,” he said, pulling you back into the current moment. The certainty of it caught your interest, as much as a part of you hated that it did. 

It was odd to hear–for the most part with him it was a lot of ‘try’, ‘maybe’, and ‘might.’ 

“Just you and me,” he continued, making you pull back somewhat to look at him, “We’ll go to London, take the car into the country or the horses. Whatever you want.” 

“I’d like that,” you replied with a light nod, not ready to put much stock in his word about things like this. You knew that his life could change depending on the day. Still, you couldn’t help but feel a pit of hope that settled in your gut. 

Yet, in your mind, it was still another ‘maybe.’ You accepted the lingering kiss he pressed to your mouth anyway, still holding onto that light feeling in your chest that had built up throughout the last while with him. As it was, in that little world in that moment, you wanted to pretend that you could trust that. 

In time, maybe you actually could.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 3: Best Friends

Word Count: 756/Rating: M/Pairing: None/CW: canon-compliant, bullying, violence/Tags: Eddie Munson, Gareth, Grant, Jeff, Jason Carver, Andy, Patrick McKinney, Lucas Sinclair, Gareth's POV, canon dialogue used throughout

Divider credit to @silkholland

Eddie Munson is not a punctual person, but he’s always on time for two things: Hellfire Club meetings and band practice. 

So when he’s nowhere to be found nearly fifteen minutes after practice is supposed to start, Gareth can’t help but worry. 

“Maybe we should just start without him?” Jeff offers shyly, unsure if it’s the right call or not. 

Grant shakes his head. “We’ll give him another five minutes. Maybe he got pulled over again.”

Gareth nods, but his insides churn. Something is wrong. He can feel it. 

That sense of dread is confirmed when Jason Carver, Patrick McKinney, and Andy Shay make their way up to the garage. 

Gareth notices them first, bringing his drumming to an abrupt end. Jeff and Grant go still when they see what caused him to stop playing. 

Fear catches in Gareth’s throat. He’s never had a pleasant interaction with any of them. Every conversation has ended with mockery or the jocks shoving him to the ground. 

That was how Gareth had met Eddie—the former had been pushed into a locker by Andy, seeing stars as his books fell to the ground. Eddie stopped to help him, saw his notebook filled with angsty song lyrics and DnD-inspired doodles, and the rest was history. 

“Who’re you?” Gareth asked, finding his balance to stand up. 

Eddie just grinned. “Your new best friend.”

Now, Gareth ignores the hammering in his chest as he steps out from behind his drum set. 

“A little early, fellas,” he says, hoping his confident stride hides his nervousness. “Show’s not till next week.”

“Oh, that was music you were playing?” Andy smirks. 

Jason wastes no time in explaining the reason for their surprise visit. “We’re looking for Eddie Munson,” he says sharply. “He’s in this band…if that’s what you can even call this.”

“What d’you care?” If Jason is looking for Eddie, it certainly isn’t to form some jock-freak truce. Not with the fire blazing in Jason’s eyes. 

“That’s our business.” Jason snaps back. 

Before Gareth can answer, his eyes lock onto a familiar, reluctant face. 

“Lucas? What’re you doing with these douchebags?”

Trepidation washes over Lucas’s face. “We’re just trying to find Eddie, man.”

“Well, you have eyes, don’t you? He’s not here.” And I’ll be damned if you get any information out of me, he thinks. If the roles were reversed, Eddie would shield Gareth from whatever wrath the jocks wanted to unleash. 

Jason nods, the information processing, and Gareth lets himself relax. Okay, he’ll leave now. Whatever crusade they’re on, it’s—

Knuckles connect with Gareth’s cheek, stunning him. He wills himself to stay standing, aided by Jeff and Grant propping him back up. 

Jason’s fingers dig into the fabric of Gareth’s vest. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know!”

“WHERE IS HE?!”

“I DON’T KNOW!”

There’s another frustrated punch, this time to his stomach. As he doubles over, he sees that Andy and Patrick have cornered his friends. 

I gotta help them; I gotta stop this—

A muscled arm wraps around his neck, pulling him into a headlock. He fights to get out, the two grappling for dominance, but Gareth knows it’s all over when Jason flings him into the drum set. The cymbal echoes, an ironic bit of finality. 

Pain sears through his hand as Jason’s sneakered foot presses it deeper into the carpet. He keeps one hand on Gareth’s head, holding him in place as he bellows, “it’s gonna be hard to play those drums with a broken hand!”

Gareth lets out a guttural scream. Eddie wouldn’t crack, he knows. Eddie would protect him, come hell or high water. Eddie had protected him. 

But it’s too much, and he can feel his bones aching under Jason’s foot. It hurts—it hurts—it fucking hurts—

“DUSTIN!” Shame courses through Gareth’s veins as the name leaves his lips. 

Confusion seeps through Jason’s rage. “What?”

“DUSTIN HENDERSON! DUSTIN HENDERSON!” Shut up stop talking but it fucking hurts… “He was callin’ around, looking for Eddie.” You coward, ratting out your best friend. “Maybe he found him. Maybe he found…”

Jason lets out a soft scoff. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

He steps off of Gareth’s fingers, but it does nothing to alleviate the weight of Gareth’s guilt. Pathetic. Eddie’s your best friend. He would never cower like you did. You let him down. You let everyone down. 

The jocks say something else before they leave, but Gareth doesn’t register any of it. He can only hope that his gutlessness won’t come back to haunt him—or his best friend. 

--

[fanfiction-blep]

Just watched Avatar 1 again Quaritch is sooooo fucking hot like damn

Can you maybe write something about human Quaritch (when you take request from of him in human form) how he fell in love with a scientist fem!so and him just being totally in love and love sick for her

Hope you had a good day ❤️

Honestly I am conflicted about human Quaritch. But here I go. Also I turned this super angsty and I’m not sorry. I might write more on this I just wanted to get something out for you guys I’m going though the backlog of requests. Have a good day anon!❤️

Human Miles Quaritch X Human Fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, pining, mentions of injuries. Angst.

I don’t see him being super lovey dovey as a human

However.

Let’s say your the “one” and he hates that he fell for you you were a science ‘nut’. And he would do anything for you.

He’s the “I’ll kill anyone that touches you” kinda guy.

He’s the kinda guy that sees a flower and brings it back to you cus he thinks you’ll make it look pretty.

He’s traditional in some sense. He believes in wooing a women. So he’ll leave you notes.

“Come see me after lights out” and you would. You would sneak out and talk and drink.

More thank once he had you sat on his knee and arm around your waist head turning to look at you once in a while. He would try and convince you to spend the night in his quarters.

His drunken confession would be that “I won’t be making love ta ya yet darlin’ I just wanna hold ya”

You weren’t a doctor. You weren’t trained in medical science. Yet every time he hit injured he turned up at the door of your lab or even your quarters.

Eyes sparking with joy when the door opens to show your angered form. “Again!” It wasn’t a question at this point. You almost think he was doing this on purpose. You just didn’t get why.

He would sit so still when you patched him up. Whether it was a graze or fill gash that required stitches. Even when you have to use a needle to pull the edges of the torn skin together, he doesn’t complain. He sits there legs spread eyes focused on you, a dangerous smirk on his lips. When you were done he would sit up throw you a wink and mumble “thanks sweetheart” walking away.

He would always find reasons to want to be around you. Picking things up when you drop them. Grabbing things when you can’t reach, almost acting as a shadow.

He asks you random questions. Basic stuff but if it isn’t obvious that he should know he will either radio you or find you somewhere.

“How many hours in a day on Pandora again? Never adjusted..” “36 colonel…” “thanks darlin’”

When you disappear into the mountains with Jake and the others he’s restless. He doesn’t like you being so far out of the way. Somewhere where he can’t protect you.

He will try and ask about you in subtle ways. In his replies to Jakes reports he will try to ask how the group as a whole are doing. “Is the group functioning to the east capacity” Jake maybe be a golden retriever boy but he isn’t dense. He will reply to all the important information and then pushing his luck he will add. “(Y/N) is fine”

When he fly’s out the drag you all back to hells gate and Lyle gets a little rough with you… he goes insane.

When his eyes meet yours he stiffens. You were standing behind grace. Arms folded over your chest and a obvious bruise on your cheek. He does his best to keep his composure but when you are all taken to your cell he stops you pulls you to one side.

He traps you between his arms, back flush against the wall. “Who hurt you” “Lyle” you bite back his expression scared you he looked like he was about to explode. “I’ll fucking kill him”

He kept you by him for the rest of the evening his hand resting on the base of your back. Something so subtle and gentle but you don’t know how to feel. You don’t know how you feel. And when Jake and the others break out, you run.

And it breaks his heart. You grab a mask and you bolt for the ship. Knowing he won’t shoot, knowing he will avoid trying to hit you. In hopes it will save your friends. He stands there. Staring at the spot where he lost sight of you.

And he wonders where he went wrong. He waits until it hits him. He never once said the words “I love you”

[miu-senpaii]

Stick Together | Shane x depressed!Reader Oneshot

TW: Mentions of depression, suicide (it is our angsty boi we talking about), reader smokes

You've always felt like a rock floating through empty space. Despite being surrounded by people and welcomed into a caring community, you've never felt more alien and alone.

Everyone else had dreams, desires, hobbies, people to go home to, a purpose in life. Something to live for. What did you have? Nothing except misery, exhaustion, and pain. They were like comets that occasionally collided with you on their path to some faraway planet, meanwhile, you are left there falling deeper and deeper into a bottomless void.

Each day felt like dragging your feet through quicksand. With each step you took, you only sunk deeper into the pit of depression. There was a perpetual emptiness in your chest. You hated that you were drained of everything--your energy, your motivation, your happiness. Even getting up each morning has become such a chore that there are days you wish you could just rot away into the Earth.

To others, your statements seemed ludicrous. Why can't you just stop being lazy and do something? Don't we all feel sad some days? Why can't you just be happy?

You gave up on explaining. Gave up on trying to be heard. Gave up on the hope that someone someday would understand how you feel.

You built up walls around yourself. You hid your pain behind a beaming smile and outgoing personality. Despite being polar opposites on the outside, you felt like you were looking into a mirror the moment you saw Shane. You recognized the facade: his cold exterior and dismissive attitude, his blunt responses, his drinking habits, his messy appearance, and his avoidance of talking to others were all ways to shut people out. This was his defense mechanism, a wall he put up to hide his true emotions. You could sense the hurt and vulnerable man underneath his hardened expression and narrowed gaze--a feeling you understood all too well yourself.

It's funny how birds of a feather flock together. Over time, an unspoken mutual understanding formed between the two of you.

On the docks late at night, there was Shane, drowning his sorrows through piles of emptied beer cans, and you, with smoke in your breath and cigarette butts littered at your feet. Few words were exchanged, with the exception of an occasional remark or two about how life sucked, followed by a nod in agreement. Neither of you felt the need to make conversation when each other's silent company spoke more than enough. Through these late nights, a shared sentiment lingered in the air: Let's keep trying tomorrow.

Your relationship with Shane might seem strange to an onlooker, but in your own special ways, the two of you were always there for each other.

When you heard that Shane was missing, you desperately searched for him in the pouring rain, chest tightening at the thought of what Shane might have done. Your heart shattered when you found him collapsed on the ground near the cliff, his tears mixing with the rainwater. You wordlessly kneeled down on the muddy ground, holding him in your arms as you both sobbed, releasing all the agony you had kept inside for so long. It hit you like a truck when he asked why he should even go on, as that was a question you had been asking yourself all these years. You couldn't pledge that things would get better, only that you would be there to support him through whatever he was struggling with.

When Shane showed up at your door the next day after recovering in the hospital, you had thrown your arms around him, and he returned the gesture. That day, a silent vow was exchanged: No matter how bad life got, you always had each other.

Shane did end up returning the favor a few months later. The waters had tempted you with the promise of eternal sleep, freed from all the burdens and pain in your life. Before you could sink into the bottomless abyss, strong arms pulled you up to the surface. You noticed Shane's heaving breaths, his thumping heart, and his glossy eyes as he pulled you into a tight embrace. That day, there was a mutual realization that you needed one another, and needed to change for the better because of that.

It's ironic how two people without a reason to live became each other's reason.

Both of your lives changed dramatically in the following months. You joined Shane in his therapy sessions. You both agreed to help one another cut back on your unhealthy coping mechanisms. You had bought sparkling water and Joja Cola in bulk so that whenever Shane was tempted to pour himself a cold one, you replaced it with a non-alcoholic beverage. Meanwhile, when you found yourself itching for a smoke, Shane would take away your cigarette and pop a lollipop into your mouth. As a plus, your kisses also tasted a lot sweeter when there was no longer the stink of cigarettes in your mouth.

You had both grown to be much happier. Shane found his calling raising chickens, which was something you found quite cute. On the other hand, you had found fulfillment working on your farm and even began to enjoy your old hobbies again.

Neither of you was perfect by any means. There were still days when you felt like you were sinking in quicksand, sometimes only down to the ankles and other times all the way up to your neck. Except, now you were no longer traversing through it alone. With Shane by your side, you were confident that he be there to pull you up as would you for him. Together, you would keep pushing forward in hopes for a better tomorrow.

[bts-0t-7]

Tonight | KSJ | Chapter 3

Pair: Seokjin x Hamster Hybrid Reader 

Summary: Dedicating his life to never having another person to count on, to be strong, Seokjin finds himself in the middle of an illegal fighting ring. The person he wanted to erase was just at his fingertips but he was slipping. No, he was leaving. He was accepting a change and he was afraid. 

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Hybrid, non-idol au, detective, smut, abuse (sensitive topic)

Warnings: abuse, self-harm, self-degration, lots of lying and miscommunications

WC: 2.9K

“So here are her prescribed medications. The dosages are stated on the stickers on the packets and these are the pills for her upcoming heat.” The rejectionist goes through each medication with Seokjin. “I heard that you had a male hybrid before?” 

Seokjin nodded.

“Right, so heats are similar to ruts. Essentially the same thing, just a different name for a different gender.” 

Seokjin nodded. 

“Based on how long Ms L/N has recounted her last heat, the injection today is to try and stabilise her hormones. Therefore, it may induce an early heat. Ultimately, it should arrive in about a week or so.” The receptionist handed Seokjin some brochures. “So the total for today would be $357.”

Seokjin was quick to complete the transaction and take you out of Hobi’s arms again. He could sense from the time you got injected, that you were getting angsty. As Hobi drove back to the apartment, Seokjin was sifting through your medications again, reading them carefully. He grasped a few things from learning from Taehyung about medicines. He came across the brochures and the box of heat suppressants. 

Seokjin vaguely recalled Jimin using them but Jimin never did like to. He often took rut leaves and then extra classes once they were over. He recalled Jimin saying that they often make his after-rut hormones haywire. So as Seokjin stared at the 10 centimeters by 2 centimeters box in his hands, he wished that Jimin was still here with him to help him through the choices. But even more, he wished that you had somebody to confide in and wished to see Jimin happy with another hybrid one. 

Seokjin may be ‘allergic to seriousness’ as he likes to tell others but when it comes down to certain people and situations, he would be all on board for it. Hybrids have soulmates. They say due to the constant cross-breeding that they have a lesser chance to find their own nowadays. Jealous as he may be, Seokjin had always wished for Jimin to find his. A day that could have been celebrated with all the joy in the world vanished in the blink of an eye. A future of everything burst into flames that very moment Seokjin had allowed him to go out. 

Your fault. 

Yes, it was. 

Death threats hung high for Jimin but he had always looked into the future more than the past. He had worked harder than Seokjin had ever seen anybody work. And he still allowed him to go out when the whole world was against him then. Seokjin rubbed his face and sighed into his hands. Peeking through his fingers, he saw you looking up at him, nose constantly twitching.

Seokjin brought his hands down and held his palm up to you. Surprisingly, you accepted it and jumped into his hold, letting him stroke you from head to snout.  Your small body vibrated in his hold and he was a little worried about how much you could take before a limb popped out of place. But he was glad that you allowed him to even come close to you despite the mishap he had with you earlier in the day. He has to find a way to make it up to you for that situation. 

As Hobi stopped the car outside the private lift, he turned around and asked, “Need any help, Hyung?” 

Seokjin shook his head. “All’s good. Thanks for driving.”

“No probs. Call if you need.”

Seokjin nodded his thanks, scoping all your belongings together with him. By now, you had made your way into the snugly hoop of his hoodie. Seokjin could feel your weight pulling and was very much aware of your consistent breathing against his back. Silently, he opened the front door,  placed your clothes on the edge of the sofa, and set the medication in their respective boxes. Sifting through the groceries in the fridge, Seokjin decided to whip up a quick makguksu(막국수). 

Seokjin placed a pot of water on the induction cooker and took out all the ingredients he needed. Bell peppers, cabbage, carrots, chicken breast, and more. First, he made the sauce for the noodles by adding red chilli powder, chicken broth, onion, pear, radish, soy sauce, sesame oil, yellow mustard, more salt, Maesil syrup, and of course sugar to combat the saltiness. He mixed them all together and placed them in the refrigerator after wrapping them. The now fully boiled chicken breast sits in the bowl Seokjin placed it in to cool down. He quickly gets to work by tearing the chicken into thin slices and chopping the vegetables. The buckwheat noodles were then flung against the wall and yes, they stuck. 

So Seokjin washed them under cool water and plated them in a low bowl. Taking the sauce out of the fridge, Seokjin drizzled it over the ingredients and with a flourish, garnished it with a single coriander. He placed all the dishes in the sink before bringing the bowls into the living room. Setting a cup of mixed berry juice for you, Seokjin returned to the kitchen to pick his soju-flavoured poison for the night. As he sat on the sofa, he slowly plucked you from the hood of his hoodie, setting your now fussy being on the carpet. Your teeth chittered together and you squirmed around, a voice of disgruntled leaving your maw. 

“Come on now… Dinner, dinner.” Seokjin mixed your noodles. You whined, shifting into your human counterpart so as to have a proper meal. 

You had learnt to understand Mr Park a little more during your visit to the doctor’s. 

He had a calico cat hybrid that was coincidentally named Jimin and had passed away a few years ago in a car accident. Mr Park did not go into details of the accident but you could feel the sorrow leaving him in waves. 

He must have really loved his hybrid. 

He had explained to the doctors the situation of your bidding and the triggers he thinks you have - which are surprisingly accurate that you didn’t even know them yourself. It was only when the doctors took you out of your little cocoon in the blanket that you hissed at them. Mr Park started placating with you, trying to give you the toy instead but you outright refused it. You wanted the blanket. You wanted to burrow in it. Sink in the oh-so-familiar scent. The cat was covered in the same exact scent. 

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. 

Your silent bestfriend.  

No, no. It couldn’t be. 

You refused to believe that the highest possibility was him until you had hard evidence. 

Mr Park managed to somewhat calm you down but the moment they brought out the needle, started to grow fussy and move about. You didn’t want to be injected with any more synthetic hormones. You wanted to be normal.

Is it so hard to ask? A normal life?

You bit the doctor’s finger as you scurried away, jumping right back into the folds of the blanket when you were suddenly ripped away from it again. 

No, no, no. 

You fussed, pushed, bit, scratched, anything and everything. A loud yell stops you dead in your tracks. Looking up, you saw Mr Park holding his fingers in a fist. You whimpered. You didn’t mean to. 

Sorry, sorry, sorry. 

You whimpered louder, trying to convey your message. You were suddenly yanked back and you panicked. Just then, Mr. Park stopped the doctors. 

“Enough.”

Nobody moved. 

Mr. Park walked over to you and scooped you up, wrapping the blanket over you like it was your safety blanket. You relished in the familiar material you had known for forever. Mr Park placed you down together with you wrapped up cosily in the blanket and placed the stuffed cat in front of you as well. 

“These injections are to help you regulate your hormones. With all the synthetic hormones that did not belong to your type constantly being pumped into you, your side effects act up so often that you don’t even realise them. These few jabs will help neutralise most of them and then we will leave the rest to nature’s work, yeah? One is for flu, one is for general viruses in hybrids, and the last one is for regulation.” Mr Park held out the finger you bit him on, placing it in front of you. “Deal? I promise there are no more than three shots and none of the reasoning I haven’t already listed out.” You placed your tiny paw on his finger. 

Truce.

The doctors have done a quick work at giving you the respective injections and just like Mr Park had truly promised, there was no more than three. You were quick to get drowsy in the warmth of Mr Park’s hoodie that it blinded you when he picked you out of it. 

You were not truly awake and had trouble lifting the spoon without your head almost falling into the bowl any second. It wasn’t until you felt something at your lips that you instinctively squinted up. The nudge on your lip was enough indication for you to open your mouth. 

Eat.

You could’ve moaned at how good it tasted - hopped high enough to be thought of as a bunny - if you had enough energy. Now, you gave Mr. Park a sleepy nod. If the food was poisoned, at least you would die with a happy, delicious last meal. You were much too tired to care right now. Mr Park continuously fed you until you stopped him, mouth full of food you have yet to swallow as you were too full. You heard soft chuckles coming from him. 

“Okay. I’ll finish the rest. Eat what you have in your mouth and you can sleep.”

Sleep.

Sleep sounded amazing indeed. 

You had woken up on the sofa in the living room with a few more blankets on top of you. Mr Park was nowhere to be found and the room was pitch black. As a hamster, your animal counterpart is nocturnal and sometimes it comes in extremely handy. Unfortunately, it was not a skill you like to have during rainy days. The curtains of the living room were not closed and as lightning struck too close for comfort, you got a full view of it. The sudden attack of bright lights blinded you as heavy thunder echoed through the house. You squeaked out, burying yourself under the covers in an attempt to block out the noises. The rain got heavier and the harsh sounds of raindrops hitting the roof and window sills had you vibrating under the layers. 

As the next lightning struck, you sprinted out of your shell and bounded over to Mr. Park’s room. You had wished that you wouldn’t give in so easily but there was nothing about Mr. Park that made you feel… unwanted.

For now. 

You knew as time passed, things would go back to how they were with all your other owners. However, you’ve always treasured fond memories with humans, giving you a serving reminder that there is still good in people. 

Situations can never say how a person may react. 

Perhaps because you were hip-to-hip attached to one of the most empathetic hybrids in the facility while growing up, but you never changed your point of view of people. Yes, as situations start to deteriorate, you learn to close yourself up but when you meet new people you always try to be as open as possible. As the thunder boomed, you squeaked, jumping in the air. Hurrying your steps, you were glad to have found Mr Park’s door open. Quickly sliding through the tiny gap between the wall and the door, you rounded circles on the floor with your blanket in tow. Making quick work of a makeshift bed, you huddled in your little barrier and fell back asleep. 

At least you had some form of comfort that you weren’t alone in the storm. 

The second time you were woken up was by the feeling of being lifted up. You felt your head roll between two large palms that placed you on a soft cushion before leaving you. You recognized the heavy scent the place permeates. 

Fig and cedar - a woody and calming scent. 

Mr Park’s scent. 

You snuggled deeper into the silky material you were placed in you let yourself be pulled back into the dreamland. 

Seokjin had woken up in the middle of the night when thunder struck, his sleep-muggled brain only thinking about you. Only to nearly step on you as he found you cuddled up beside his bed. Seokjin had carefully picked you up, trying not to wake you, and placed you onto his pillow. Switching his pillow so that you’ll have the one he just laid on, he adjusted the blankets around you and fell back asleep. 

Now, Seokjin was in the process of making breakfast. Well, attempting to make breakfast. It isn’t that he can’t cook but rather he doesn’t know what to cook. He isn’t sure of your allergies, your likes and dislikes, your absolutely loves and hates. Sighing, Seokjin decided to just whip up simple souffle pancakes with some strawberries on the side. 

Seokjin quickly took out all the ingredients he needed - eggs, sugar, milk, almond flour (for easier digestion), and baking powder. 

Seokjin first separated the egg yolks from the egg whites, leaving the remaining unused egg yolks wrapped up in the fridge. He wished the egg yolks with sugar while slowly mixing in the milk. Proportionately sifting the flour and baking powder of the mixture, Seokjin made sure there were no clumps. Then, he placed the egg whites and baking powder in a mixer, slowly whipping them while adding sugar to make a glossy, thick meringue. Taking a third of the meringue, it was placed into the bowl of yolk mixture and Seokjin folded it in until a pale yellow colour. He repeated the process with the remaining meringue. 

Bending down, Seokjin took out a pan from the cabinets, hauling it up with the lid. After heating, he spread a thin layer of oil on the bottom of the pan. Then using an ice cream scooper, he scooped the batter on the pan in batches. Placing the lid over, it cooked for four minutes before opening to add another batch of batter on top of the current one and repeat the process of cooking. After another five minutes, Seokjin flipped the pancakes around and left them to cook for another four minutes. 

Carefully taking them out, Seokjin placed the washed and dried strawberries on top of the pancakes. Deciding that blueberries would do the colouring well, Seokjin took out a box and plated the sides. Only after deciding that they looked good did Seokjin throw the dirty dishes in the sink and head up to wake you. But you weren’t where he left you and he started fricking out, rushing into your room to find you dressed and… struggling to tie your hair?

You had turned to him with wide eyes, hands in your hair, trying to re-arrange them. Guess you were having a bad hair day. Seokjin willed his heart to calm down as he chuckled, slowly walking over to you, hands at his sides. 

“May I?” Seokji gestured to your hair. He didn’t want to overstep your boundaries again. 

You nodded. 

Seokjin braided your hair simply. During the whole time, you were fidgeting with your blankets and your dress, constantly biting your bottom lip. Seokjin’s hands landed on your shoulders after he finished braiding your hair and said, “Stop biting that lip, ham.”

Your brows furrowed. “Ham?” You asked him with the cutest pout on your lips. 

“Yep. It’s easier than two syllables ‘HamHam’ so just ‘Ham’.” 

You looked confused. Where did this come from?

“I am a hamster not a piece of ham.”

Seokjin burst out laughing. “Isn’t it shorter for Ham instead of Hamster?” Seokjin couldn’t stop laughing. You sounded so… pouty. 

“I am not a piece of ham!” 

Seokjin wiped his tears. “Of course, Ham.”

You huffed and jumped out of bed, completely forgetting why you were nervous before. Seokjin was glad to have managed to take your mind off some things. 

“Come on. I made breakfast and we will leave after that.”

“Leave?” You were back to looking scared. 

“Yes. We need to get you a new collar. A comfortable one.” Seokjin explained, hoping that you would understand the need. He hopes that one day, hybrids will be able to walk freely and be their own person rather than having to be dependent on ownership to survive. But for now, it is important for him to stake a claim on you so that you don’t get unnecessarily attacked. 

You nodded and the fumbling of your hands was back. 

“What’s wrong?”

You were hesitant. “Ehm… Wha…What’s for breakfast?”

“Souffé pancakes!” Seokjin beamed. “With as much whipping cream and maple syrup as you want. Of course not forgetting the side of strawberries and blueberries - wait, are you allergic to them?”

You shook your head. 

“Nice!” He held out a hand for you and almost swooned when you accepted it. “Let’s go!”

Hi everyone!!

Sorry for skipping the updates. Unlike Yoongi's fanfic "So What?" This series has not been completed. However, all the chapters posted have been edited and checked. It's currently the peak examination period and I will not be posting as often. This series will be updated every Monday only.

I will try to finish the series amidst the piling reports but no promises for now. I'm sorry 😭😭

One thing for certain is that I will try to give you the best I can:) I hope you all enjoy this series! Thank you for all the love you have given Yoongi's fanfic "So What?" as well. As for the oneshots usually posted on Thursdays, I have a few ready but in need of dire editing. So I hope you guys can give me some time and stay tuned for upcoming works.

Thank you for your patience and support!! 💜

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the grudge | conrad fisher

conrad fisher x female mc

summary: sometimes the person you love most can be the one who cuts you the deepest. for delaney and conrad, they haven't talked in years. not since that night. not since delaney had confessed to her best friend that she was in love with him.

word count: 3k

warning: mdni, sexual content

author's note: this is a little angsty but also cute ig

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

They say a friendship breakup feels a thousand times worse than a romantic one. Losing that person that feels like your other half, the one you could get stranded on an island with and still find something to laugh about. I suppose that it's true. Losing my best friend feels like a piece of my heart has been ripped out, thrown to the side as though it were perfectly disposable.

I hate Conrad Fisher. I hate him for making me love him. Everyday, I think about that Friday in May. That phone call, the malice in his voice. Everyday I think about it. And most of all, I hate that I made him hate me too.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Nicole had dragged me to this party, demanding for me to get my ass out of the house. I had spent all summer pent up in my room doing online classes to get a head start before starting at Stanford this year. Plus, I didn't want to risk seeing him. Knowing what he said to me. So I had let summer pass me by, not stopping to admire the feeling of the sun gracing my skin or spending all day basking in salt water. I hadn't felt the satisfying pain of a sunburn from spending the whole day outside, despite reapplying sunscreen each hour.

I guess I figured that if I could distract myself, I wouldn't have to think about what existed outside of my room. The reality that Conrad Fisher hates me, and I hate him too. It wasn't always like that. We had grown up quite the pair. I remember days where he would spin me around the kitchen of his house next door, the sweet melodies of Billy Joel filling our souls. But something so perfect can't last forever, and it's my fault for ruining it.

With Nicole's hand in mine, we step through the cream threshold of the house. I believe that it's Gigi's and her parents are gone for the weekend. The smell of alcohol immediately fills my senses, making my stomach churn, along with the blasting house music.

When Gigi spots me, she throws her arms in the air, squealing with delight.

"Look who finally decided to join us!"

She sloppily encases me with a hug, throwing her arms around my shoulders. I smile against her, missing the feeling of being around my friends.

"I've just been busy with school Gig. You know I would never purposefully miss hanging out with you."

She pulls back, rolling her eyes playfully and making Nicole hug her next.

"Yeah, right, Stanford."

We both giggle as she pours me a beer, and I take it gratefully. Though my senses prick when I feel somebody else walk in the room. I know who it is immediately, not bothering to turn around and deal with him.

Holding my cup in my hand, I smile tightly at Gigi and Nicole.

"I'm gonna go use the bathroom. Don't have too much fun without me."

Turning on my heel, I keep my head down, beelining for the bathroom. The stairs feel a mile long as the ache in my chest begins to build, each step seeming to grow double in front of me. I finally make it to the bathroom, shutting the door quickly behind me and holding my hands on the counter for support. I squeeze my eyes shut to try to relieve some of the pain, but it's no use.

I should be over this by now, it's been two years since it happened. Somebody is knocking on the door, probably some drunk girl needing to go pee, but it all sounds muffled.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Nerves eat at my stomach as I walk with Conrad on the beach. I don't know exactly when I fell in love with him, it's not like it happened suddenly. But recently it's been so overwhelming that my heart seems to ache every time I'm away from him, and on the verge of bursting when I'm near him.

He's talking about football right now, the camp that his dad's sending him to at the end of the summer. The end of May lingers like perfume, the final days of school transitioning to the beginning of summer. I can't seem to find it in me to pay attention to what he's saying, knowing that what I'm about to do will change our friendship forever. For however terrified of losing him I am, I am equally as sure that I need to tell him.

"Conrad." I say softly, my voice shaky.

He doesn't hear me, continuing to talk about dreading the drills and the shallowness of the team. I shake my head, urging myself for confidence.

"Conrad." I say, slightly louder.

This time he pauses, his head turning toward mine as I halt in the sand. My sandals feel heavy in my hand, the midday sun blazing onto my shoulders. Conrad is standing in front of me now, with his hair blowing into the coastal wind.

"What's up?" His brows are furrowed, as if confused by my demeanor.

I think my heart might actually beat out of my chest.

"I-" I start, "I've known you for like my whole life and you're my best friend."

He nods reluctantly, eyes holding mine.

"And you're mine. What's going on?"

I close my eyes, taking a deep breath in through my nose.

"I think I love you, Conrad."

When he doesn't say anything for a moment, I open my eyes. But he's not standing in front of me anymore. Conrad Fisher is walking away from me, about twenty feet up the beach. I told Conrad I loved him, and he walked away. My brain tells me to follow him, to take it back, to have never risked losing my best friend at all. But he's walking away, and my feet seem to be sinking into the sand, where I will stay until the tide washes me away.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

The door of the bathroom creaks open, forcing my eyes to shoot to the intruder.

"Sorry, I was knocking but you weren't answering and I wasn't sure if you were okay-"

"Leave, Conrad."

I look at my reflection in the mirror, the yellowed light tanning my skin while I avoid connecting my gaze with him. Conrad doesn't leave. I need him to leave. Instead, he closes the door, enclosing us in the guest bathroom.

"Delaney-"

I whip around to face him, anger building in my core at his concerned tone.

"No! You don't get to say my name like that, Conrad. Not after everything."

Tears build in my eyes, two years of resentment boiling to the surface.

"We both said things we regret that night." His voice is low, dipping his head to catch my eyes.

"Yes, Conrad, we both drew blood. But you and I both know that those cuts were never equal. You ended our friendship over the fucking phone. You called me unlovable-"

My voice breaks, tears streaming down my cheeks at this point. Conrad's shaking his head like trying to forget the bad memory.

"I didn't mean it, Delaney. I didn't mean it. I was scared, and I had just ended things with Aubrey. Our friendship meant so much to me, and I was so scared of losing it." He pleads with me.

"That's exactly what you did though! I know that I started it Conrad, and I will regret that every day for the rest of my life. But I loved you, and you couldn't handle that, so you turned me into this villain."

"No, no," he shakes his head again, "you were never the villain, Delaney. I was scared because I loved you too."

The bathroom is quiet, not even our breaths daring to break the fragile atmosphere. Voices and music are muffled behind the door, and Conrad is looking at me so intensely that I swear I might have something on my face.

Conrad Fisher was my first love. They say that never really leaves you, it sticks like pollen to a hummingbird. Falling in love with him wasn't grueling, it just kind of snuck up on me. It was like I woke up one morning and realized that I had loved him this whole time. I loved the way that he snort-laughed when we would watch South Park on the couch and the way that he went to every one of my track meets. I loved the way that his hair never seemed quite put together and the way that he smelled in the morning when he picked me up for school. I was intwined with Conrad Fisher the way the moon is intwined with the tide.

"Two years-" I start, "You didn't talk to me for two years after that night."

"Because I couldn't find the words to say how sorry I was. I'd tried, Delaney. I spent months trying to figure our how to apologize. But then you got together with Braedon, and I thought that it was over, that nothing I could say would ever be enough to make you believe that if I could take back every word, I would. I never expect you to forgive me, but I need you to know that I did love you."

He pauses, looking at the mirror behind me before looking back at me. His chest rises and falls at a steady pace, in sync with mine. My eyes soften involuntarily with his confession. I'm not sure that I forgive Conrad yet. But right here, in this bathroom, it feels like two years has been nothing more than a few days. I'll be going to Stanford in a couple weeks, leaving behind my life on the east coast, at Cousins Beach. Though it feels as though we're sixteen again, stressing over driving school rather than college. I know that we've both changed so much while we were apart, but at the same time it feels natural to be with him, even if we're arguing.

Conrad's gaze is heavy on mine and I feel my heart in my throat. Without thinking too much about it, I grab the back of his neck, pulling his lips onto mine. I think that I've made a mistake when Conrad pulls back startled, face inches from mine.

But after a second, his hand comes up to my face, lips dipping to meet mine more fervently than before. Our kiss is heated, Conrad's palm heavy against my skin, the feeling of his touch both familiar and foreign. It's strange to think that he's the Conrad that I've known my entire life, yet at the same time, not.

My arms are wrapped around his neck, and his hands come to the backs of my thighs, lifting me onto the bathroom counter. I quickly wrap my legs around his waist while his hands continue to hold my thighs. My sundress sits high on my hips from the position.

"You're so fucking stunning, D."

Conrad pulls back to run his gaze over me, his pupils blown out. I take the time to do the same, glancing over his worn t-shirt, jeans, and sun kissed cheeks. Conrad's head dips down to meet my neck, his hair tickling my jawline. He sucks at my skin, finding the sweet spot just under my ear and eliciting a soft moan.

"Don't leave a mark, Connie." I breath out as my hands tangle into his hair and pull slightly.

He nips slightly at the spot, the sting causing heat to explode throughout my body before running his tongue over it artfully.

"God, you don't know how long I've waited to do this with you."

"Bite me?" I laugh out, his hands holding onto my waist.

Conrad laughs too, before shaking his head.

"No, just touch you."

My breath catches in my throat at his words, the heat of his hands on my waist burning me. He moves them up, eyes on mine before twiddling the straps of my dress between his fingers.

"It is impossible to not want you, Delaney."

His voice is low, and he brings his forehead to connect with mine. Our breaths are intertwined, the feeling of his hair between my fingers as though I were home. Back to my Conrad. Our mouths touch briefly before we both give in again. Conrad pulls me flush against him, no space between our chests. I open my mouth, allowing his tongue to slip in, tangling with mine. The sound of his moan vibrates through me, every inch of us connected.

Conrad's fingertips dig into my thighs, rubbing them up and down while we fight for dominance. When one of his hands disappears under the hem of my dress, he pulls away slightly to look at me.

"Is this okay?"

We're both breathing heavily, and I can feel my cheeks flush.

"Of course."

Conrad looks down, watching as he bunches the floral fabric higher on my hips, revealing my light pink thong. He takes his time exploring my skin, hands groping at my bare ass, running his palm against my inner thigh. I just watch him, not daring to break the moment. And Conrad watches me, as though memorizing every piece that he touches.

When he dips down onto his knees, I feel my breath catch immediately. He looks heavenly down there, blue eyes heavy on mine as he plants a kiss onto my thigh. One kiss. Another. Each one higher up my thigh, his gaze never leaving mine as my breathing picks up. The feeling of his lips on my skin feels both right and wrong, paradoxical in the best way possible.

Conrad pauses, looking up at me from the floor.

"I need to taste you, D."

I nod, not letting myself look away.

"Words, baby."

My heart lurches at the name.

"Yes." I manage to get out.

He wastes no time, pulling the thong down my thighs and stuffing it into his back pocket. His hands pull my legs around his shoulders, and his head dips dangerously close to my core. I shudder at the feeling of his warm breath against my cunt, him still holding my thighs for support.

Conrad presses his tongue flat against me and I'm already soaking for him. I try to stifle my moans as he begins to work my clit, hands shooting out to grip his hair. When I pull a little, Conrad grunts against me, the sound filling my whole body.

My back arches with the pleasure of him this close to me, with his tongue exploring the most intimate part of me. He circles my clit some more, pleasure instantly building as I my hips involuntarily attempt to grind against him.

"Patience, baby." Conrad grips my hips and I feel him smile against me.

"Stop smiling down there, Connie. This isn't funny."

He laughs softly before dipping his tongue into my cunt, the feeling immediately halting our bickering. The pleasure is unlike anything else, especially when his fingers begin to rub at my clit, working both of them at the same time. My breathing picks up, the pressure of an orgasm building low in my stomach.

When I feel myself getting close, I pull Conrad away.

"I need you."

He stands, his body in between my legs. With him close to me, my fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and over his head. I'd been around Conrad shirtless lots of times growing up. But it was never like this, never where I would touch him. Football had toned his body, and I take a moment to admire him.

"Done staring?"

I roll my eyes, reaching forward to cup his dick over his jeans, making his breath catch.

"Shut up Conrad."

"Mhm." He whimpers, rolling his hips into my hand.

Conrad holds his body up with one arm on the wall behind me, the other gripping my hip as if I could disappear any second. Despite him dry-humping my hand, I can't help but think that he's never looked this beautiful in our entire lives.

Needing him as soon as possible, my fingers fumble at his belt, pulling his jeans down. He takes initiative, sliding his dick out of his boxers and grabbing a condom from the pocket of his jeans. Fuck, he's big. I tentatively meet his hand, the feeling of his cock in my palm making me want him even more.

"Please." I practically beg.

His gaze his heavy on mine as my hand pumps his dick.

"Such a good girl for me, begging for my dick."

Conrad's hand comes to rest around my throat, and my thighs clench at the thought of him choking me. I nod at him, urging him to squeeze. When he does, I can't help the load moan that comes from me.

"Oh my god." He breathes out as I line his dick up with my entrance, the tip brushing against my folds.

"Are you sure?" Conrad asks as we both prepare to have him inside me.

"Always."

He pushes forward, his dick filling me up immediately, my eyes screwing shut from the feeling. He waits a second, allow both of us to adjust before he begins to move. I know that I won't last long, especially from coming so close when he was eating me out.

With him pumping in and out of me and his hand on my throat, Conrad dips his head to kiss me again. It's slow in contrast to his dick, feeling much more intimate than anything else we've done.

"You're it for me, Delaney."

When we both finish, Conrad slumps against me, face nuzzled into my neck. My arms are wrapped around his back, mine resting against the mirror.

'I've missed you." I hear him say, voice muffled as he strokes my hair.

"Yeah, me too. I feel like I got a piece of me back."

Conrad smiles at this, both of us not knowing what the future holds for us. All I know is I still love him as much as I did two years ago, when I confessed at the beach.

"Please don't walk away from me again."

"Never, baby."