#tucking this in my back pocket to stare at appreciatively any time i need a boost

[blindmagdalena]

if words could be eaten, if fics could be devoured i would eat yours. they are *that* good.

this is perhaps one of the most delicious compliments i've ever gotten on my writing. i'm obsessed with this. thank you so much. 🖤

[girlkisser13]

like the movies

"maybe one day i will fall in a bookstore" "into the arms of a guy"

a/n: jason would DEFINITELY listen to laufey.

pairings: jason todd x fem!reader

warnings/tags: none. tooth rotting fluff.

summary: your boyfriend takes you on a date to a bookstore.

the soft chime of a bell announced your arrival as you and jason stepped into your favorite local bookstore. the place was small and cozy, with shelves crammed with books from floor to ceiling. the warm lighting gave everything a golden glow, making it feel like you’d stepped into a little corner of paradise.

"this place is pretty great," jason remarked as he glanced around, taking in the inviting atmosphere. it wasn’t his first time here with you, but he still seemed to appreciate the store's charm every time you visited.

"i know, right?" you replied, grinning at him. "i could spend hours in here and never get bored."

jason gave you a look of mock horror. "hours? you’re going to get us trapped in here, aren’t you?"

you laughed, rolling your eyes. "don’t worry, i won’t hold you hostage. but i do need to pick up a few books."

he grinned, slipping his hand into yours. "lead the way, then."

you started down one of the aisles, your fingers lightly brushing the spines of the books as you searched for the ones on your mental list. jason followed closely, his presence comforting and familiar. it was one of the things you loved about being with him— the way he made even the simplest outings feel special.

as you moved through the store, you pulled a few books off the shelves, considering each one before adding it to the small stack in your arms. jason watched you with a smile, clearly enjoying the sight of you in your element.

"how many are you getting?" he asked, his tone teasing but affectionate.

"just a few," you said, holding up the stack. "this isn’t too bad."

jason raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your definition of "a few." "you know what? give me those."

before you could protest, he took the books from your arms, adding them to the growing pile he was already carrying. he wasn’t even struggling with the weight of them— jason was strong, after all— but you still felt a little guilty.

"jason, you don’t have to carry all of those," you said, though you couldn’t help but smile at his insistence.

"nah, i’ve got it," he replied casually. "besides, it’s kind of my job, isn’t it? carrying your stuff, being the boyfriend…"

you laughed, shaking your head. "well, i appreciate it, but i can still pay for my own books."

jason’s expression shifted, becoming a little more mischievous. "i was actually thinking i’d take care of that part too."

"no way," you said quickly, shaking your head. "you don’t need to buy my books. i can handle it."

jason gave you a playful look, as if he knew something you didn’t. "what if i really, really want to?"

you narrowed your eyes at him, trying to gauge how serious he was. "jason…"

but before you could finish your thought, jason reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black credit card. it wasn’t just any card— it was bruce’s.

"how about this?" jason said, his voice light but his grin wide. "i use bruce’s card, and it’s like a little gift from both of us. you can’t say no to that."

you stared at the card, then back at jason, your mouth hanging open slightly in disbelief. "you can’t be serious. jason, you can’t just—"

"oh, i’m serious," he cut in, his grin only growing wider. "bruce won’t even notice. and even if he does, i’ll just tell him it was for a good cause."

you couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer audacity of it all. "you’re impossible, you know that?"

"and yet, you’re still with me," he teased, winking at you.

you were about to respond when your eyes caught sight of a book on the top shelf— pride and prejudice. the familiar green cover was calling your name, and without thinking, you started for the small ladder tucked into the corner of the aisle.

"i’m getting that one," you said over your shoulder as you began climbing the ladder. jason’s eyes followed you, his expression amused but also a little concerned.

"be careful," he called out, his tone half-serious, half-playful.

"i’m always careful," you replied with a grin, reaching for the book. but as you stretched a little too far, the ladder wobbled beneath you, and you suddenly felt yourself losing balance.

before you could even let out a gasp, jason was there, catching you as you stumbled backward. his arms wrapped around you securely, and you found yourself pressed against his chest, your heart racing not just from the near fall, but from how quickly he’d reacted.

"whoa there," jason murmured, his voice close to your ear. "you okay?"

you looked up at him, still a little breathless from the sudden scare. "yeah, i’m fine. but how did you…?"

"reflexes," he said with a wink, holding you close for a moment longer before finally letting you stand on your own again. "perks of the job."

you shook your head, a smile tugging at your lips. "you always know when i’m about to fall."

jason grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. "that’s because i’m always watching your back."

you couldn’t argue with that. as your heart rate returned to normal, you turned back to the shelf, finally grabbing pride and prejudice and adding it to the stack jason was holding.

"another one?" he asked, his tone teasing as you placed the book on top of the pile.

"last one, i promise," you replied with a grin.

jason shook his head, chuckling as he adjusted the stack in his arms. "you better hope bruce doesn’t check his statements too closely."

you laughed, feeling a warm rush of affection for him. "if he does, you’re the one explaining it to him."

"deal," jason said, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead. "now let’s get out of here before you find something else to add to this tower."

as the two of you made your way to the checkout, jason’s insistence on carrying your books and paying for them with bruce’s card still had you shaking your head in disbelief, but you couldn’t deny how much you loved these moments with him— moments where his playful side shone through, making even a simple trip to the bookstore feel like an adventure.

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (02)

chapter two: in plain sight

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut warnings: cursing, drinking, suggestive content at the end, could've been edited more but oh well lol word count: 4.9k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

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Damn baby, I'm a train wreck, too I lose my mind when it comes to you I take time with the ones I choose And I don't want to smile if it ain't from you

boyfriend - Ariana Grande ft. Social House

You end up not seeing Minho, nor any of your other friends, at all in the few days leading up to Yeonjun’s party.

True to your words, you were mostly holed up in your place, running on nothing but caffeine and sheer frustration, trying to finish your elective class’ final paper on the differences between the views of Greek philosophers. Time really flies when you wish it would slow down, because you could've used a couple more days to perfect the godforsaken thing.

You’ve been texting Minho though, and honestly, the man is practically a saint. You barely even talked about anything besides your stupid paper and your high maintenance perfectionist professor, and yet, he still listened to you yap away. He even offered to help you with your footnotes and citations, which you didn’t need, but the gesture was nice. If you had turned to Seungmin with your whining, he probably would've muted your notifications after three messages.

Regardless, all complaining aside, you did manage to pull through and finish the paper in the end, letting out a big sigh of relief the very second you clicked on the Send button on yours and your professor’s email thread just five minutes before the deadline.

Before you know it, it's already Saturday and Minho should be here any minute now so you two could go to the party. You’ve been working hard. You deserve to let a little loose tonight.

Even though a college party isn’t exactly your top choice of ways to wind down from stress, the mention of free and unlimited booze sure does sound alluring.

When your phone lights up with a simple i’m here from Minho, you quickly throw on a cardigan over a simple black camisole and denim shorts and check your makeup in the mirror one last time before heading downstairs. He texted you a couple hours ago, saying he had some stuff to pick up near your place and asking if you wanted to walk to Yeonjun’s together. You sent him back an enthusiastic yes!!! in a matter of seconds, because lord knows you’d rather not enter the front door of that house unaccompanied. 

You opted for a simple fit tonight, mostly because you couldn’t be bothered to put on anything more decent only to go to the equivalent of a frat party.

“Hey, Min.” Your voice pulls him away from scrolling through his phone, diverting his attention to you instead.

“Hey,” he says, tucking the device into the pocket of his jeans. When he gives you a once-over, you do a little twirl for him, finishing off with an exaggerated kick of your foot at the end. “You look nice.”

“Just ‘nice’? I’m trying to get laid tonight. ‘Nice’ isn’t gonna cut it,” you joke.

He stares at you, a bashful expression befalling his features, the corner of his mouth lifted upward as he smiles in hubris. “You’re trying to get laid by whom?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug. “You tell me.”

He rolls his eyes affectionately before throwing an arm around your shoulders to pull you close. One of his hands musses up your hair that you spent twenty minutes trying to make look perfect, prompting you to poke him in the side so he would let go of you.

“Hey!” you scowl, smoothing over the strands that he flicked out of place. “I worked hard on that!”

“Sorry,” he chuckles, clearly amused by the temporarily sulky look on your face. “Didn’t want you to look too pretty. Can’t have all of the attention on you. Someone might try to steal you away from me.”

“Did it occur to you that maybe I want some attention tonight? I’ve been a hermit all week, I deserve a little something.”

“Is my attention not enough for you?”

You squint at him for a second. Then, you start walking in the direction of Yeonjun’s house without waiting for him. You hear Minho launch a laugh your way, and the scuffling of his shoes on the concrete pavement as he easily catches up with you in a few strides.

He leans down to whisper directly into your ear, making your cheeks heat up but you’re glad that they’re partially masked by the poorly lit street. “You know you never have to try.”

The walk to the party takes about fifteen minutes. When you’re rounding the street corner that leads to Yeonjun’s place, you can already hear the booming music coming from the biggest house on the block. Even from a distance, you can see people on the lawn and the two balconies on the second floor. You gotta give it to the guy - he sure knows how to throw a party.

The second you enter the premises, you’re almost taken aback by how crowded it actually is even though you expected this. A typical Yeonjun party.

You tug on Minho’s shirt, beckoning him to bend down so you could talk into his ear over the sounds of bad EDM and people basically having to scream in each other’s faces. “Are Hyunjin and the others here yet?” you ask.

“They got here right before us. I think they’re in-”

“Y/N!” The two of you whip around at the sound of a shrill voice calling out your name. Yeonjun practically shoves his way through the crowd of people when he spots you, bounding up to you and Minho with a bright grin on his face. “Glad you could make it!” he says, paying no mind to the man next to you at all. He eyes you up and down, shamelessly tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “Damn, you look really good tonight.”

You give him a playful eye roll. Nonetheless, you still tell him, “Thanks.”

“You look that good to come to my party?”

You don’t mind at all the fact that Yeonjun is a natural flirt. That’s just a part of his personality, he’s inherently charming like that. It’s harmless and it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. Everything is all in good fun.

“Would you believe me if I said this is what I’d wear on a midnight convenience store run?”

“Ouch, you wound me.” Yeonjun says, holding a hand over his heart to emphasize his point. “C’mon, you can admit it.”

You open your mouth, a quick comeback about to be thrown his way but Minho chimes in from beside you.

“You should believe her,” he deadpans, stepping closer to you, one of his hands grazing your back. He's even standing straighter, with his chest all puffed out. “She even dresses like that when she takes out the trash.”

You turn to gasp at him before punching him right in the pec. “Hey!” Yeonjun is all but forgotten in a blink of an eye, because you have to defend your honor first.

“What? I’ve seen you do it wearing this exact same outfit.”

“Stop lying. It’s not true.”

“Isn’t it? I distinctly remember you wearing this when you went to take out the trash that night a couple of weeks ago while we were hanging out at your place.”

“Nuh uh. I didn’t take out the trash that night,” you protest, frowning. “I made you throw it out for me on your way-”

Yeonjun interrupts you with a chuckle, glancing between you and Minho as he gives your friend's shoulder an awkward pat. They share a look that you don’t quite understand. “Alright, duly noted. I’m gonna make myself scarce,” he says. “Help yourselves. Booze is in the kitchen!”

After you’ve finally squeezed your way into the kitchen that’s overflowing with people, you narrow your eyes at Minho. “What was that about?”

“What?” He scans the selection of liquor bottles on the kitchen island before asking you, “Rum and Coke?”

Your favorite.

You nod eagerly, momentarily distracted before you have to circle back to your question.

“What was all that back there with Yeonjun, Mr. Grumpy Cat?”

“What was what?” He pulls out two solo cups from a nearby stack, along with some napkins, and meticulously wipes the plastic cups even though they look pretty clean to you. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow. He shrugs.

“I didn’t know you and Yeonjun were that close.” Minho seems casual as he tells you this, not looking at you as he fetches the necessary liquor and soda from the sea of glass and plastic bottles in front of you.

“We’re not. I’m kinda friends with him because Jess is friends with him.”

“Okay,” he acknowledges, though he doesn’t seem entirely pleased with… you don’t even know what. “I don’t like him. He’s loud.”

“That’s not a reason. Aren’t you friends with him too?”

You watch as he mixes your drinks, a sight you’re familiar with whenever you attend house parties together. He’s always your designated bartender.

One for you, one for him.

One part rum, two and a half parts coke.

“It is a reason. And ‘friends’ is a stretch,” he says, handing you your cup before he tends to his own. His has less liquor in it, because you both know you like yours stronger. “We’re acquaintances at best.”

“You’re loud too.”

“My brand of loud is different.”

“Is it?”

He gives you a look. An offended cat, if you’ve ever seen one.

“Well, Yeonjun’s not bad,” you tell him. You take a sip of the drink, then give him a subsequent thumbs-up. “He can be a bit much for some people, but I don’t really mind it.”

When he’s done, you both try to navigate the battlefield that is Yeonjun’s extremely cramped abode. You try to stay as close to him as possible, meaning away from the loud boys that are either trying to get shitfaced as quickly as possible, or trying to suck faces with any girl they could find as quickly as possible.

“Still. You don’t think the flirting was a bit much?”

Minho pulls you to him by your elbow when some guy - probably a little more than tipsy, judging by the unsteadiness of the legs that carry him - tries to bulldoze his way through the crowd behind you.

“He’s always like that. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s harmless.”

“If he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You blink at him in surprise, feeling like the question came out of nowhere. “What kind of question is that?”

“It’s just a question,” he says, then repeats himself. “So, if he asks you out, would you say yes?”

You let him guide you to a spot that’s more breathable, where people aren’t practically on top of each other trying to weave their way through. You think about it for a second, then realize that there isn’t much to think about. “No,” you say decisively.

Because it doesn’t make sense to envision you and Yeonjun together. You practically sit on two opposing ends of the same spectrum. People often say that opposites attract, but this isn’t one of those cases.

And… because you simply feel strange thinking about yourself and someone else. Like it's something you shouldn't do.

Minho gives you a hum in acknowledgment of your answer, which you barely catch over the loudness of the party. You do catch the hint of a smile that tugs at the corner of his lip though, before he cranes his neck to scan the room for any trace of your gang of thieves.

“If I didn’t know any better,” you run the words over in your head before you decide to utter them out loud. Like you told him just now, harmless, right? “I’d say you’re jealous of Yeonjun.”

He turns, stares at you for a moment with unreadable eyes. 

“And what if I am?”

There’s something incredulous in the way you look at him. You think he would just wave you off or roll his eyes and move onto a new topic, not expecting him to fire back with a question you can’t really answer.

Or maybe he’s just playing along. You can’t tell.

“Am I that good in bed?” you chuckle, hoping he doesn’t notice the inkling of nervousness in your voice. “Did I do a number on you?”

He raises both eyebrows, pursing his lips as if in thought. Then, he answers, “Something like that.”

There’s a part of you that wants to dig deeper, to get him to say what he really means because there’s something in his eyes and there’s something in the way that his hand has moved to its designated place on the small of your back that makes your stomach roll with anticipation.

Once again, you don’t like that he keeps getting harder for you to read.

You try to think of words to say, of questions to ask, though you know this party isn’t the best place to voice them. “What d-”

“There you are!” Hyunjin pops up from behind Minho, practically jumping onto his back like a jumpscare ghost in a horror game, startling the both of you and almost making the grumpy cat spill his drink. Minho groans as he tries to shove his friend off, before sending Hyunjin a glare that makes the man bow his head in apology. He promptly drags you to where your friends are gathered on a big couch near the back of the room - Chan and his girlfriend Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, along with a distinct absence of a few more faces.

“Where are the others?” you ask, plopping down next to Changbin, followed suit by Minho.

“Jisung is stuck finishing a project,” Chan informs you. “And Jeongin is taking his girl to that new drive-in movie place.”

“They’re still in their honeymoon phase?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”

“Ah yes, young love. Good for them.”

You catch up with everyone about your week, about their week; gossip about how much Yeonjun might’ve spent on this party and where his family’s downright insane wealth actually comes from, about Seungmin’s on-and-off situationship (which might be more interesting than all of the above).

Minho remains seated next to you the entire time you’re all drinking and laughing with each other. He keeps subtly touching you one way or another - a hand on your back because no one’s really noticing, a shoulder brushing yours, a thigh touching yours, a knee nudging your own every now and then.

It’s not until you finish your drink that Minho asks if you want another one, then stands up to head to the kitchen when you say Yes, please.

The second he’s out of earshot, Hyunjin jumps into action, motioning for everyone to huddle together, like he’s about to share classified information.

“Minho is seeing someone,” he says immediately. 

“What?” Changbin asks. You hope he doesn’t notice the way your body immediately stiffens at the conversation’s sudden turn. You try to look as nonchalant and quiet as possible, as if this is just a talk about the weather, missing the way a pair of eyes flits to you outside of your peripheral vision.

Hyunjin purses his lips, before clarifying, “I went through his phone last week.”

“You went through his phone?” Chan frowns, shaking his head disapprovingly. “That’s not cool, dude.”

“He was in the bathroom and his phone was just sitting there unlocked. Then he got a text and I had to!” Hyunjin holds up his hands defensively. “Anyway, I don’t know if they’re dating or if they’re just fooling around, but there is someone! He’s simping hard.”

“How do you know that?” Seungmin chimes in. “Do you even know who it is?”

“I don’t know who it is. That’s what I need you guys to help me find out. There wasn’t a name name. He just calls her his-”

“What on earth are you guys doing?” Minho’s voice makes everyone disperse, leaning back into their respective seats like they were caught doing something they shouldn’t. He sits down beside you again, handing you your cup back. You give him an appreciative but awkward smile. “What is Hyunjin blabbing about this time?”

“Nothing!” Hyunjin practically squeaks. The poor guy can’t spin a little white lie to save his life. Then he has the audacity to look offended as he gapes, “Also, why did you automatically assume it was me?”

“Because it’s always you at the scene of the crime.”

“It happened one time! No, twice. It was only those two ti-!”

Seungmin cuts in flatly. “He said you’re whipped for a girl you’re seeing.”

Everyone stops to stare at Minho. Even you turn your head to look at him, trying to gauge how he’ll respond to this. It makes you a little guilty, seeing that you’re part of the secret too, and yet he has to shoulder the lies by himself.

Well, technically, there hasn’t been any lying involved up until now. Just a simple withholding of the truth.

His face hardens for a brief moment, and you think he lets it show on purpose - his way of telling Hyunjin that he’s annoyed - because Minho can put on a flawless poker face when he wants to. There’s a couple of seconds where he clenches his jaw before he relaxes, the sharpness of his features softening as he shrugs off the accusation. “I am most certainly not whipped for anyone,” he says. “It’s just a casual thing.”

“If it’s just casual, why were you being so secretive about it, huh?” Hyunjin prods. 

“I wasn’t being secretive. I just didn’t think it was anybody’s business,” Minho answers coolly. 

“We’re your best friends! I tell you guys everything.”

“You sure do. Even things I’d rather not hear about.”

Jess and Changbin burst into light laughter, and you chuckle along with them but you don’t really find it that funny. You’re just trying to blend into the background, be a fly on the wall and observe how things unfold. Minho has assured you that there’s nothing for you to worry about, that there’s no way they could find out about the secret, but still.

Hyunjin groans exasperatedly. The nosiest drama queen you know. “Seriously, who’s the girl? I’m dying of curiosity here!”

“Drop it.” Minho glares at him.

“Just give me a hint! Is it someone we know?”

“You haven’t eaten tissues in a while, have you?”

“Try me. I’m not scared of you anymore.”

“Hyunjin, I swear to-”

“Okay!” Chan claps his hands together suddenly. “Let’s just all agree that we are all entitled to our privacy and people can share whatever they want with whoever they want when they’re comfortable, yeah?”

Everyone nods in agreement, except for Hyunjin who narrows his eyes petulantly at Minho as if to say This isn’t over. No one wants to poke a disgruntled tiger, let alone about something he seems so disinterested in sharing. Minho has always been a notoriously private person, even with the rest of the group.

Changbin shuffles a new topic into the mix to move things along, which you aren’t very keen on contributing to at the moment. When no one seems to be looking, Minho places a hand on your knee, rubbing it soothingly as if he can sense the unease that you’re feeling. It makes you glance at him, though neither of you says anything. You just look at each other for a moment, then turn back to the group when someone calls your name.

Two hours and three rum and coke’s later, you were coming down from a good high when someone suggested ditching Yeonjun’s party to go to a club.

Normally, you would say no. You could only do one social event at a time, needing to recharge your metaphorical battery before you let yourself be dragged into the next one.

But you decided to make an exception for tonight.

Though, you promptly realized that it was probably a mistake.

You prefer the loudness of Yeonjun’s party than here. It’s loud and crowded, since it’s a Saturday night, and since it’s a club. The air is sticky and stuffy. The lights are perpetually blinding and headache-inducing. You’re not even on the dancefloor; you’re just hovering near the entrance and the bar, and there’s still barely any room to move. People keep trying to shove you out of their way, even with Minho attempting to act as your human shield. 

You let your displeasure be known through a deep frown.

Minho catches onto your chagrin almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning close to your ear to make sure you hear him over the music.

“Too many people,” you try to raise your voice so the booming noises don’t drown you out. “Can we go somewhere over there?”

He turns around, taps on Chan’s shoulder to get his attention before gesturing vaguely to that spot near the back that you just pointed out to him, presumably to let the others know that you’ll be wandering over there.

He takes your hand and leads the way. In the back, it’s still loud but less deafening than before, and much less crowded compared to the areas surrounding the dance floor.

“Better?” he asks.

You lean against the wall though you probably shouldn’t. The ick is apparent, but at this point in the night, you yourself are already feeling pretty gross anyway.

“A little bit,” you say. “Thanks.”

“You wanna go home? We can leave if you want.”

“Without saying goodbye?”

“Did you know that people who leave parties without saying goodbye save two days a year? It’s been researched.”

You rephrase your words so Minho would understand better. “Without Hyunjin’s permission?”

“Hyunjin has been pissing me off plenty all week. I can play my card for you.”

“What card?”

“The ‘I don’t give a fuck’ card.”

You tilt your head, clearly amused. “And how does that usually work out for you?”

“I don’t care how it works out because Hyunjin is not gonna do anything to me.” He shrugs. “Besides, I can always just throw him in the airfryer when he gets too annoying.”

This makes you laugh, recalling the exact moment Minho brought up the legendary instructions on how to cook Hyunjin.

“How violent,” you comment with a snort.

“He deserves it.”

“You know you still have a soft spot for him,” you say.

“I have a soft spot for you,” he replies.

“Now look who’s trying to get laid.”

He grins. “Could you blame me?”

Some drunk girls stumble into your space on their way to the bathroom, bumping into you, pushing you into Minho’s body where he instinctively puts a hand on your back to keep you steady. You glance up at him after the girls have safely arrived at the bathroom, only to find him already staring down at you. His back is turned toward where the lights are coming from and the angle shrouds his face in darkness, but you can still make out the stars twinkling in his eyes.

The sudden lack of space between your bodies makes your breath hitch.

“Are you still drunk?” he asks.

“No. Not really.” You don’t like the way your voice comes out small, vulnerable.

“I…” he starts, hesitating for a moment before he continues. His eyes flicker to your lips, and the breath that was previously caught in your throat further thickens. “Fuck, I really want to kiss you right now.”

For some reason, your heart leaps to your throat. It’s probably because of the remnants of alcohol refusing to leave your system, because how else would you explain the way your pulse quickens just from hearing those words coming from him?

He bites his lip, similar to how Yeonjun did it just a few hours ago, but seeing Minho do it is at least a hundred times more enticing.

You want him to kiss you too. You really do.

“What if the others see?” you protest meekly, but you’re already staring at his mouth, finding yourself gravitating toward him like he’s got you hypnotized.

“We’re all the way back here,” he tells you. “They won’t see anything.”

He leans closer until his lips are brushing yours. With a hand on your hip and the other on the back of your head, he meets your mouth in a soft kiss, which is a stark contrast to the upbeat and booming music blasting all around you. Some guy drunkenly gives you two a sleazy whistle, the sound coming from somewhere on your right, but neither of you pays it any attention.

Your hands come to clutch at the collar of his shirt like a lifeline. He’s never kissed you outside of the comfort of your bedroom before, let alone amidst a sea of people like this. It feels strange to be intimate with him in public, but at the same time, it excites you. There’s still a sense of anonymity because you’re camouflaged by the lights, masked by the darkness, hiding in plain sight.

The kiss gets more heated. He guides you a step back until you’re all pressed up against the wall, your hands tangling in his hair, tugging on it the way he likes that makes him groan against your mouth. He sucks on your bottom lip before shoving his tongue into your mouth, the wet muscle dancing with yours, making your knees buckle. It’s dizzying. It makes your head spin, and you don’t know if it’s because there’s still enough residual alcohol in your system to knock your world off its axis, or if it’s just him.

The hand previously on your hips sneaks underneath your shirt to rub at your bare skin. He gropes your breasts over the bralette you chose to wear tonight, squeezing the soft flesh in his palm, all the while slotting one of his legs between yours to help you grind on him. Your clothed cunt rolls over the denim of his jeans, and even though the friction is coarse and your movements are limited in this crowded space, the pleasure still sets your entire body alight. Minho spreads all over you like wildfire, and Minho consumes you like a hurricane.

You moan into his mouth when he rolls your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, over the flimsy material of your undergarment. “Min,” you whimper desperately. You don’t know if he can hear you over the obnoxiously loud sounds coming from the speakers littered all over the place, but he groans against your mouth regardless. Almost like the nickname is driving him crazy.

He pulls back just slightly, to let the both of you catch your breath. “Should we go back to yours?” he asks, eyes still focused on your mouth.

You nod eagerly. You know you must be wet as hell right now, and if you have to wait any longer, you will probably explode from frustration. You might just drag him into that disgusting bathroom over there and let him have his way with you, but you will definitely regret it afterward because it’s a bathroom in a nightclub. It’s beyond revolting.

He helps you smooth out your hair, gentle and tender. In turn, you wipe your lipstick smudges on his face. Instead of taking you by the hand like he did earlier, he wraps an arm around your shoulder and navigates the two of you through the crowd, shielding you from anyone who might bump into you. You lean into the touch; it’s just comforting.

As you make your way back to the group - or what’s left of the group at the moment - his hand drops to his side again. There’s an inkling of disappointment that blossoms in you, but it dissipates quickly when Hyunjin spots you and lights up. Him and Seungmin are at the bar, seemingly trying to get the bartender’s attention. Changbin is next to them, but he doesn’t seem to care about anything other than the girl he’s chatting with. You try to scan the crowd for Chan and Jess, and find them a couple minutes later, standing in a corner, pressed up against each other just like you and Minho moments ago.

“Where did you run off to?” Hyunjin asks. Clearly Chan was too preoccupied with his girlfriend to relay the information.

“It’s too loud in here, I was getting a headache,” you say, only half a lie. You know your face must still be flushed from your impromptu makeout session, but you hope your friend can’t see the rosy shade painting your skin under all the flashing lights. “Min and I just went back there to see if it was quieter.”

“Okay.” He seems to believe you. “We’re trying to get drinks! You want anything?”

“I think I’m gonna just go home. You guys stay and have fun though.”

Hyunjin looks at you like he’s so flabbergasted. “It’s not even 3AM yet!”

“Headache,” you say, pointing to your temple with an exaggeratedly pained expression on your face. “I’ll stay out all night with you next time.”

“But-!” The second he opens his mouth to protest, Minho cuts in sharply, his tone leaving no room for anyone to argue despite the gigantic pout on Hyunjin’s face.

“I’m gonna take her home and call it a night too,” he simply says.

Hyunjin groans, but he relents in the end, muttering to you something that sounds like “You owe me one,” when you go to hug him goodbye. Before you and Minho can reach the door, you hear your man child of a friend call after you two in his pterodactyl voice, “Don’t make Minho’s girl jealous!”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 04.01.2024]

[writersdrug]

Please continue to write literally anything for konig, I’m having the worst work week of my life and your fics always sustain me! I just finished chapter 13 and I almost cried because I realised I’d have to wait for more to come out 😔 this isn’t really a request or question just encouragement!!!

I don't have much queued up for König besides I Don't Need You, but here are some headcannons I have!! Also I'm sorry your work week was bad, let König cheer you up

NSFW at the end

We all know he would love to go on rants bout knives, guns, history, etc. But I also imagine that if you tried to chime in with your own, semi-relatable topic he'd glare at you and say "I wasn't finished," before continuing on his schpeel. He's not trying to be mean, he just has to tell you about Richard the third and how he definitely killed the two princes in the tower.

If you ask if the two of you can get a cat, he comes home the next day with one - but he didn't go to the pet store, or a shelter. He went to the restaraunt you always drag him to and waited by the dumpster with a can of tuna. Caught the scruffy thing and brought it to you, tucked under an arm with a big smile on his face.

He had to help you bathe the spitting kitten, poor baby was covered in fleas.

This man unironically adores the bucket of chicken you can get from KFC. Just a pail of chicken all for himself.

If you're out shopping or really anywhere where you take the lead, people are always asking if you're ok - "That man looks like he's following you," they whisper, "do you need me to get someone to walk you out?"

It's just König, standing behind you in a balaclava, hands in his pockets and dark clothing. Just 👁👁

Goes for an hour-long run at 4 am every morning, comes home to shower, then crawls back in bed with you to sleep until you have to go to work.

His phone screen is probably gross. Lock screen is you, doing your makeup and wearing a stunning dress for date night, unaware of König lurking in the doorway for a photo; background is the poster for Lord of the Rings: Return of the King

This man is known as a terror among door salesmen. They're just trying to get him to buy their services for cleaning gutters and he's dragging them to the backyard to show them how he cleans it himself, talking to them for an hour about how you don't need to hire someone to do "simple work"

He plays D&D with other veterans every Thursday night - you both usually host at your house, and he gives you an appreciative smile/pat when you come through with more drinks.

(Based on a tiktok) he once came in through the back door, standing in the dining room awkwardly as he watched you sort through the mail. He stared at you with a blank expression, until you finally looked back at him. "What's wrong, baby?"

He then slapped a lizard on the table, making you scream and throw a pile of mail at the thing as it scurried across the wood. He laughed for a good thirty minutes.

When he's sick, he tries to get away with downing a shot of Everclear and moving on with his day. "Alcohol kills bacteria, no?" (You'll have none of that nonsense, and he's not complaining when you dote on him and hand-feed him soup.)

If you're in the shower, he's in the shower. Doesn't matter if he had one an hour ago.

If you have a child, he loves to gaslight them (especially in their elementary years). Agrees to play Princess with them, but then proceeds to say that he's the Princess.

"I'm always the Princess!"

"Nein, you said I could be this time!"

"No I didn't!"

"Well I'm the Princess, so I make the rules."

Believes eating your pussy will make you feel better in any situation (sometimes it does). Bad day at work? He's kneeling in front of you and telling you to flip your skirt up. Cramps? Orgasms are the best remedy, schatz. Your tomatoes aren't growing well this year? Ah, shucks. Let him eat you out.

Anyways this is bleh but hope this helps!!

[hyperactively-me]

king!ghost x reader -- meeting

You couldn’t sleep. Not after dinner, no, not after he was seated directly across from you. He didn’t take off his helmet, not yet, at least. He politely declined a plate as you were all being served. He mostly stared at you when you ate. You had emphasized stabbing your food with your fork, staring straight at his helmet with disdain as you angrily bit into your food. Your mother had kicked you under your seat multiple times for you to knock it off.

You’re lying in bed, tossing and turning, just knowing that he’s sleeping within your palace walls. It makes your skin crawl. After another hour, you grow sick of being restless, so you decide to take a walk to the garden. Sliding out of bed, you wrap a robe around your frame and slide on a pair of slippers. 

You managed to push open the heavy wooden door to the garden, stumbling onto the stone path. The moonlight shone down on you, casting the faintest of shadows within the garden walls. This was just what you needed. Fresh air to take your mind off the anguish you were experiencing. You wrapped your robe a little tighter around your figure, the cold air nipping at your skin. Calmness settled into your skin as you strolled deeper into the garden, admiring the flowers and vegetation. You come to stand under a large willow tree in the corner of the garden. A quiet stream runs past, a pond tucked away down the path. You weren't sure how long you stood under the tree, letting the breeze caress your hair and the scents of the garden encompass you. 

You stood for a moment, hugging your arms as you stepped back inside, abruptly noticing how bitterly cold it was in the shadows. You grew uncomfortable, the hair on your neck standing. You felt someone was watching you. At that, you turn around to go back inside, shuffling through the grass as fast as you can, slipping through the door that was left slightly ajar. 

. . . 

As you make your way up the stairs to the corridor where your room is, you see the light of a lantern cascading down the walls. You stop for a brief moment, neck stretching to see past the corner where the light was coming from. And there you see him, a skull masked adorned on his face, settled in a spare seat in the hallway, one used only for decoration. He’s wearing a simple black tunic and pants, all of his armor discarded. He’s holding a cloth in his hand. Your eyebrows are raised in confusion, peeking around the corner. Until you realize he also has a knife in his hand. Your breath is caught in your throat as you pull back, turning around to practically sprint back to your room, but not before you heard the chair squeak. 

Your blood runs cold, and for a moment, you can’t move. 

“What’re you doin’?”

You freeze.

You slowly turn around, facing him. Ghost. The first thing you notice is his eyes are uncovered. They’re brown. The skull adorns his face like a warning. 

You take in his presence, taking a few steps back to put distance in between the two of you. You look down at his hand, still gripping the knife. 

“What are you doing?” you motion to the knife in his hand. 

He tilts his head, looking down at his knife like he doesn’t know how it got there. He flips it in his grasp once before sheathing it in a small pocket on the side of his pants. You wince slightly at the sudden movement. 

“Thinkin’” he responds, voice gruff. He takes a single step towards you. You take a step back. 

“What are you doin’?” he asks again, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His arms are huge, you notice. Stop that, reprimanding yourself. 

“I don’t see how it's any of your business as to what I’m doing in my own home,” you retort, squeezing your robe tighter around your body. 

He takes a breath, a low chuckle escaping. 

“Listen here, sweetheart,” he says with a smirk, his deep voice resonating through the hall. “I’m not tryin' to pry, but you've been actin' a certain way ever since I’ve arrived. I don’t appreciate it,” he states, shifting slightly. 

You feel small under his gaze. But you shoot him a glare nonetheless, frustration bubbling up within you. 

“Well, you can mind your own business. I don't need your so-called ‘concern.’ Why do you think I’m acting this way?”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by your defiance, but he’s silent. Serves him right. He steps towards you again, but this time you don’t move. He takes another step. Another. Until he’s inches away. You still haven’t moved. Your neck is craned up to look at him, disdain written on your face. 

His hand reaches up to your cheek, fingertips just barely ghosting over your skin as he pushes stray strands of hair behind your ear. 

You tense up, your chest heaving as you stand your ground.

His eyes shift down for a split second, pulling his hand away in a split second. “Hmm,” he hums, a glint in his eyes. 

And, without a word, he makes his way down the hallway silently. 

You stand there, confused. You have to remind yourself to breathe. What just happened?

- - - - -

(masterlist)

[the-marshals-wife]

New Horizons (Arthur Curry x Reader)

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ⋅☆⋅ 𝐀𝐎𝟑 ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─

A/N: Requested by @dantes-devil-huntress. I can't believe this is my first Aquaman fic! This was so much fun to write, I hope you enjoy!

Premise: Trying to figure out his place in the world as the newly crowned king of Atlantis, Arthur meets someone who may just help him find the answers he looking for.

Description: Arthur Curry/Aquaman x Fem!Reader (Human), meet-cute fluff! | Warnings: alcohol, mild language | Setting: AU w/o Mera endgame, before The Lost Kingdom | Word count: 3,468

Edit: here's my Orm Marius x Reader fic for my fellow Orm girlies ;)

Gif credit: user jasonmomoaonline

Imagine Arthur giving you shelter when you're stranded in a storm, and discovering his true identity

Getting stood up for your date had been the worst part of the night, until the moment you got into your car. Instead of the engine turning over and sputtering to half-life like usual, it only stalled.

"You have got to be kidding me," you say, gripping the steering wheel and turning the key until you thought it might snap, "Come on, come on, come ON!"

Throwing open your door, you pop the hood and stumble back out into the chilled night. You mutter curses under your breath as you survey the labyrinth of steel and hoses before you.

"At least nothing's on fire this time," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

You step back and stare at the bucket of bolts the salesman had called "like new." Besides coming to this bar, buying this car was quite possibly your biggest regret. It wasn't quite a lemon, but it wasn't a Rolls either. And most of all, it was all you could afford.

You exhale, glaring up at the flickering light of the bar's neon sign. The last thing you wanted to do after waiting nearly two hours alone like a fool was show your face inside again. You retrieve your phone from your back pocket, just to see the blinking bars in the top corner. No service.

"Wonderful," you groan.

Like a bad joke, thunder rolls in the distance. You look up to see the lightning flashing on the horizon across the bay. The brisk, salt air rises up from the water and cuts right through you.

"Could this night get any better?!" you lament, an angry shriek escaping your lips as you kick the front tire.

"Excuse me, Miss?" a voice from behind interjected.

You jump and turn to see a man approaching, nervous smile on his bearded face. You appraise him wearily: tall, dark, and not at all lacking in style, clad in both leather and jewelry. He looked a sight better than the drunken fishermen you'd observed stumble about the bar, which you concluded was about ninety-percent of the clientele. Even from where he stood, he certainly seemed to smell better.

"Uh, I don't mean to interrupt, but you sound like you might need some help," he offers hesitantly.

Despite your initial scare, something about him puts you at ease.

"Oh, um...yeah, actually" you smile embarrassed, tucking your hair behind your ear, "My stupid car won't start. Again."

"Mind if I take a look?" he asks, pointing.

"Would you? That would be great, honestly," you say, folding your arms against the cold, "I just had it in the shop last week. I have no idea what's wrong now."

He pats the fender as he circles around to the front, "Let's see what's got you all clammed up here, buddy."

"Your guess is as good as mine," you say exasperated, stepping to stand behind him a ways.

He chuckles and pushes up his sleeves, ducking underneath the hood. You take note of the intricate tattoos, realizing this friendly stranger was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Hmm, nope. Not that," he says, craning his neck, "Not that either."

You bite your lip and sway on your feet, silently praying he could find the source of the problem. Any easy fix was probably too much to hope for, but your fingers stayed mentally crossed nonetheless.

"Ooh, maybe- no, definitely not," he says, followed by a clinking sound, "That should not be there."

"I really appreciate this," you say after a moment, peering over his shoulder, "I can change the wipers and put on a spare if I have to, but that's about the extent of my car expertise."

"No shame in that," he grunts, his voice strained, "Oof, now that might be a problem."

"Did you find something?" you dare to ask.

"These spark plugs are kaput. Like, 'not even a necromancer can bring them back' kind of kaput."

"The guy said they were fine!" you exclaim, "I knew I shouldn't have gone back to that place. Probably just took my money and laughed."

The man finally stands up and winces.

"And your alternator is on its last leg," he says with a grimace, "Even if you could get it to start, I wouldn't go more than five miles in this thing."

"Great. That's just wonderful," you sigh, shaking your head, "Well, thank you for looking. It'd have taken me forever to figure that out. Google only goes so far."

"No problem, wish I had better news for ya," he says, wiping his grease-tinged hands on his jeans before extending one towards you, "I'm Arthur, by the way."

"I'm Y/N. Nice to meet you, Arthur."

"Nice to meet you too."

Despite your frustration, you couldn't help but grin. As Good Samaritans go, he was quite a handsome one. Something in the back of your mind whispered that you had seen his face before, but you couldn't place when or where.

Before you could speak again, a bolt of lightning strikes just across the harbor, followed swiftly by a crash of thunder.

Arthur looks off to the darkened horizon, his expression souring with concern.

"Storm's coming in fast," he observes, the sea breeze blowing through his long, sun-kissed hair, "Do you have someone you can call to come pick you up?"

He turn back to you, and only now do you notice just how rich and golden eyes his eyes are. For a few dizzied seconds, you forget to answer.

"Uh, not really. I'm pretty new to the area. I don't know very many people," you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden, "I can just call a Uber or something. If my service ever picks up."

"Yeah, definitely," he nods, clearing his throat, "They have a phone inside."

"Thank you again for helping me, Arthur," you say, starting to walk towards the door.

"I didn't really help, though..." he trails off, disappointment in his voice as you step past him.

Your hand is almost on the handle when he pipes up.

"Uh, look I know you don't know me, but my dad's place is just down the road from here. He's the lighthouse keeper. Him and my mom are actually away on little retreat, and I'm watching the place for them," he explains, "It's dry, warm, and definitely has a lot less drunk guys. You could wait there while the storm passes, if you wanted."

You turn back to him, trying to conceal your renewed hope, "I couldn't impose on you like that."

"Oh you wouldn't be. It's just me and the dog. He's probably getting sick of me at this point. He could use a visitor," he chuckles, "But I understand if you'd rather stay here. Strange guy at a bar invites you to a lighthouse on a dark and stormy night. Sounds like a horror movie, I know."

You laugh, and so does he, bringing some much needed levity.

"I'll bring you right back if you change your mind, just say the word," he adds, sounding truly sincere.

Almost everything in you was saying not to trust a man you'd just met, but your gut was telling you otherwise. There was more to the warmth in his eyes than just the color.

"Well, it does sound like the dog could use some company," you say thoughtfully.

Arthur smirks. "Oh yeah. There's been a Hell's Kitchen marathon on for days, and I'm pretty sure he's sick of listening to my Gordon Ramsay impression. I can't resist, love that guy."

"I might have to hear that for myself."

"Let's get you out of this weather, and we'll see what I can do about that, then," he says with a wink, "My ride is just over here."

Not even the chilled wind could overcome the warmth of your cheeks. The excitement in your chest grows with every step as you follow him across the sandy lot. The ride in question, however, soon comes into view, and the knot in your stomach tightens all the more.

"Oh boy," you say, staring at the motorcycle.

"You're not scared of bikes are you?" he questions, stepping alongside it and reaching into the black saddlebag.

"Not exactly," you hesitate, "I've just never been on one before."

He pulls out a red, half helmet and offers it to you.

"Don't worry, I won't let you fall off," he replies, amused.

You look between him and the headgear a moment before taking it.

"Besides," he says, swinging his leg over the seat, "All you have to do is hang on."

With no argument to make, and rain drops beginning to sprinkle down, you pull your hair back and fasten the helmet on. You nearly lose your balance trying to throw your leg over, having to grab his shoulder to steady yourself. He didn't seem to mind; you could have sworn you heard him snicker. You settle into the seat, heart racing from being so close to him. More anxious than ever, you lightly place your hands on his back.

"All good back there?" Arthur asks, a smile in his voice.

"All good," you repeat, unconvincingly.

"Alright then," he says, turning the key.

Seconds later, the motorcycle roars to life as he revs the engine. Arthur eases the bike back slowly, pivots out of the lot, and eases it up to the main road. The instant he accelerates, the force kicks you backward. You throw your arms around his torso, pulling yourself against him. Over the noise of the machine, you weren't sure if the rumbling in your ear that followed was thunder or laughter, but you figured was the latter.

With the bar now behind you, and the rain coming down harder with the increasing speed, you bury your face into his back and hold on tightly.

♆

The lighthouse comes into view just as the skies open up. Arthur maneuvers the bike up the slippery, sand driveway and quickly shuts it off. He gives you his hand as you climb off and leads you toward the house.

The helmet offers some protection from the downpour, but the wind blows the spray into your face as you squint to see. Lightning above illuminates the world like daylight as you scramble up onto the porch.

Arthur throws the front door open and lets you in first as you stumble inside the dark house. You take a few blind steps forward as he slams it shut behind him, thunder making the windows rattle.

"Man, someone must have really pissed off Thor," he laughs. His relief, however, is turned to exasperation as you hear a clicking sound followed by a sigh.

"Power's out. Awesome."

Still trying to catch your breath, you pull out your phone, struggling with wet fingers to use touchscreen. Finally the flashlight turns on, and Arthur throws his hand up over his eyes as you accidentally shine it right at his face.

"Sorry," you pant, pointing it down.

"No worries. That's a good idea, actually. I always forget about this thing," he remarks, grabbing his own phone and doing the same, "One second, I think Pops has some candles in the kitchen."

You nod as he disappears into the next room. Now remembering the dripping helmet on your head, you release the strap with your free hand and set it down on the mat beside the door. A shiver goes through you from your soaked clothes. You point your phone about the shadowy room to get your bearings, admiring the otherwise cozy living area. As you sweep the light downward, something large and metallic glints on the coffee table in front of the sofa and catches your eye. You move closer to get a better look, and then your heart drops to your feet. Lying beside a bag of jerky and the TV remote is a massive, gleaming trident of gold. A memory flashes through your mind of an article you'd seen weeks ago, with a fuzzy photo of an alleged aquatic hero holding a weapon just like it. The pieces come together all at once as you realize the identity of your host.

The very next second, you hear Arthur's approach. He returns with a lit candle in each hand and a blanket under his arm, only to find your expression of complete and utter shock.

"You...you're..." you stammer.

"Oof, I knew I forgot to put something away," he cringes, "My bad."

"You're the Aquaman," you gape, finding the words.

"Surprise," he says in a sing-song voice, flashing a nervous smile, "Yeah, I never really know how to bring that up.

You stare at him dumbfounded as he places the candles on the coffee table. "I can't believe it. Aren't you supposed to be like...well, in Atlantis or something?"

"I was, earlier this morning. Just about died of boredom in council meetings," he says matter-of-factly, proceeding to talk as if he had a desk job, "I'm kinda part-timing right now, between land and sea. It's complicated. I'm still new to the whole 'king' thing. Don't have all the kinks worked out yet."

"I'd imagine," you breathe, your mind still reeling.

"Here, figured you need this." He holds out the blanket, completely unphased by the previous subject, "Do you drink tea? I can make some for you."

You take the blanket and chuckle in bewilderment. "Um, sure. That would be great," you answer, "Thank you."

"One tea coming up," he smiles, "Uh, just make yourself comfortable, I'll get the fire going here a minute, after I find the dog. Pretty sure he's hiding under Pops' bed upstairs. He's terrified of storms. Ironic right? Lighthouse keeper's dog afraid of a little water."

"I don't blame him this time," you say, wrapping the blanket around your shoulders, "I think you were right about Thor."

As if on cue, another boom of thunder shakes the walls. You both burst out laughing.

♆

A few minutes later, you find yourself sitting on the floor in front of a roaring fire with a warm mug in your hands, finally beginning to feel dry. Having been unsuccessful in coaxing the dog into joining him downstairs, Arthur settles down beside you crossed-legged, damp hair tied up, trading the tea for a can of Guinness. Your thoughts rage like the storm outside as you stare into the flames, agonizing about what you should say.

Arthur speaks a moment later, saving you the trouble.

"Sorry about the power. I'll call you that cab as soon as it comes back."

"That's okay, I'm not in a hurry," you reply.

You look over at him hopefully, meeting his piercing gaze for as long as you can. Mere seconds pass before you bow your head, heart racing while you repress a smile.

"I'm uh, sure you've got some questions about all this," he ventures, rubbing the back of his head.

"Honestly, with the night I've had, meeting 'Aquaman' is par for the course," you smirk.

"I didn't mean to spring it on you like that. I guess you can understand why I don't lead with the whole King of Atlantis thing. Kinda makes it hard to keep a conversation going once people know you 'can talk to fish.' They don't really see you the same after that."

"Yeah, I think I'd probably keep that to myself too," you agree, the awe returning full-force, "Still, it must be amazing. I mean, you're basically ruler of the ocean, right? Or is it just Atlantis?"

"Eh, I mean there's the other kingdoms-"

"There's more?!" you blurt out, wide-eyed.

"Oh yeah. Xebel, the Fishermen, the Brine, a couple of defunct ones no one wants talks about. We got a few."

"And you're the ruler over all of them?"

He shrugs. "More or less. I mean, they each have their own ruler. But then I'm also over them? Kinda? I'm still figuring crap out, they didn't exactly give me a rule book on my first day. Plus I have to answer to this royal council and they've got sticks up their butts about everything I do and say," he groans, rolling his eyes, "I like to consider myself more of a 'protector of the deep' than a ruler. Sounds more cool, and less like an old fart with a crown."

You giggle, hanging on every his every word.

"And with this bad boy right here," he says, reaching behind him and patting the trident, "I command all life in the sea. The animals anyway. Between you and me, that's the best part."

"You definitely have a cooler job than me," you beam.

"It definitely has its perks. But most of the time, I'd rather be here," he sighs, punctuated by a swig of his beer.

A visible sadness washes over him as he looks into the fire.

"You aren't from Atlantis?" you question.

"No, I was raised by my father. My parents met on accident. My mother was queen of Atlantis, and she ran away from her not-so-nice guy fiancé. She got lost in a storm, and my father rescued her. They've always said it was..."

Arthur stops and turns his gaze towards you, realization in his eyes.

Your heart skips as you understand. "Fate?"

He nods thoughtfully. "Something like that."

You blink, letting him go on.

"Anyway, I know I have a calling to the sea, but the land is always going to be a part of me, you know?" His expression softens. "Here, I've always found everything I need."

His words linger in the air between you. You look down at your hands, your chest pounding.

He clears his throat. "Sorry, I know that was a lot of info."

"Just a little bit," you reply teasingly, "But your secret's safe with me, Arthur. I promise. I've got no one to tell anyway."

"Don't worry, I trust you," he says, waving his hand, "It's actually nice to have someone else to share it with."

"I'm honored that you did. I know it's not the same, but I do understand what it's like to feel that you don't belong," you confess, "I didn't fit in my 'kind' either. Moved out here to start over. I guess you could say I'm still trying to figure some crap out too."

He pauses in thought second before responding, "Do you mind if I ask you something, Y/N?"

"After everything I've asked you? I'd say it's definitely your turn," you chuckle, taking a sip of your forgotten tea.

"I saw you at the bar before you went outside. I couldn't help but notice that you were there by yourself..."

"You noticed correctly. I was supposed to meet someone for a date, but after saying he was on his way, he never showed. I tried to text him, but he blocked me. I don't even know why."

"Nothing like being stood up at some backwater bar," he concludes, frowning, "Well, screw that guy. He's a bum."

"Yeah, I figured that out too late," you agree, then give him a knowing look, "The evening wasn't a total loss. I did meet you, after all."

"That's true," he concedes, playfully stroking his beard, "I may be a half-breed rookie king, but I'm not a bum."

You snort and gesture to the television set on your right, "So much for your marathon though, huh?"

"Ah, that's alright. They were all re-runs anyway."

You raise your eyebrow. "Think I could still hear that impression?"

He holds a finger to his chin in mock deliberation, "Hmmm, have I had enough to drink for that?

"I don't know, have you?" You lean in with anticipation.

He flashes a sly grin. "Of course I bloody have," he declares in the most hackneyed attempt at a British accent you'd ever heard, "And you better listen up, because I'm about to tell you everything there is to know about how to cook a bloody good flounder."

Your sides ache with laughter as he continues to go on a tangent about how to properly sauté shallots and season the perfect demi-glace. The voice sounded nothing like the infamously tempermental chef, of course, but you still thought his attempt was cute. By the time he was yelling at his invisible staff for serving him raw fish, the storm outside had passed, and neither of you noticed.

As Arthur went to light the stove to warm up some "gourmet" SpaghettiOs, still boisterously carrying on as Chef Ramsay, your excited thoughts returned to the story about his parents. You couldn't help but wonder about your own stormy night, the man you had met, and how much of a hand fate had played in it. The horizon seemed so much brighter than before, and for the first time ever, you were grateful to have bought that car.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

THTH 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Ransom Drysdale

Summary: You have a secret, but what do you do when it threatens to come out.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

“Ugh, goddamn it,” you hiss as you reach your phone to the sky. The signal is shit around here. You watch the little circle, waiting for a check mark to appear; nothing.

Three days. The bandwidth has been in and out for three days and you haven’t been able to upload a single thing. Not even a message. This is dumb. You growl at your phone and toss it on your bed. It bounces and hits the wall.

You huff and cross your arms. It’s not fair. Those three days could’ve made you money. You can’t even leech off the library wifi because of the content filters. So ridiculous. You’re just trying to make a living.

A tap comes at the door and you flinch. You quickly scoop up your phone and go to the door. You tuck it in your back pocket and pull your shirt down to cover the top. You open the door and peek out at your mom.

“Everything okay?” She asks.

“Uh, yep, just dropped something.”

“Oh, nothing broke, I hope.”

“All good,” you smile. She chews her lip anxiously, as she often does. “I’ll be down for dinner soon. Smells good.”

“Alright,” she says, “it’s almost done. Your favourite; spaghetti and meatballs.”

“Mmm, awesome.”

You shut the door and roll your eyes. Spaghetti isn’t your favourite. It’s what she says is your favourite. Just like everything else, it has to fit within her rules. If she says you like yellow, well then, you like yellow. It isn’t worth the argument to have a personality.

You take out the phone again. You nearly squeal as the check mark turns green. It sent! Just a text post notifying your few followers of the unexpected technical difficulties. You’ll be fortunate if they don’t bleed off to the other girls. When there’s so much variety, you can’t expect horny men not to hop on the next page with a pretty girl in lacy underwear…or less.

You scroll down but the rest of the posts show the blank blocks, pulsing as they struggle to load. You check the menu. Signal’s gone again. Welp, at least that went through.

You go to your bed and hide your phone under the mattress. Your parents know about your laptop, that’s your alibi. You tell them you do transcription work online. That doesn’t pay enough so you have the secret phone for your real business; you.

It isn’t exactly a career but it’s a means to an end. You’ll save up enough and be out of Hammer Ford in no time. You’re almost twenty and running out of time. A gap year is expected, but two? That’s sad.

Besides, you’re done with this life. You need out of this house. You are an adult. Your parents can’t make you eat your peas or ban you from the romance section in the library. One day, hopefully soon, you’ll be free.

For now, you’re going to go downstairs and pretend your mother’s spaghetti and meatballs isn’t complete mush.

📱

Days pass as you stare helplessly at the flashing bars in the corner of your phone. Damn phone company. The data plan was supposed to be a backup, even if you could only afford the cheapest vendor on the market. You at least thought it would work!

You manage to get a decent signal up on Thunder Lane by the hotel. It might be worth it to just walk in and get their wifi. You don’t think they’d care much. There aren’t many guests passing through now, are there?

The only benefit of your forced break is how much time it gave you to create new content. You choose the set of photos you took with the bunny ears and the barely there white teddy. You quickly flick through the settings and set the paywall. At least you’ll have money coming in before…

Yep, no internet. You’re lucky even that went through. You roll your eyes and hop back in the family oldsmobile. Your mother doesn’t let you have it often but you told her you were going for coffee and would fill up the tank.

As you roll up to the sleepy main row of Hammer Ford, your phone vibes. You quickly put it back to silent and check the notification. Your data’s flickering as you see the first response to your post. That was quick. Turns out someone did miss you.

_ransom_ware commented: ‘welcome back, bunny’.

You tap on the bubble but the app won’t load. Damnit! At least you have automatic deposit enabled. His tip will hit your account in a couple days.

You get out of the car and cross the street to the bakery. You could butter your mom up with some tarts, maybe convince her to let you take the car into the city. That might be your best chance at catching up. You could schedule posts and not have to fight with the damn countryside desolation.

As you enter the bakery, it’s quiet. There’s one person at a table. You don’t recognise him. He has his back to you so you don’t think much of it. Probably just another lumber worker sating their repressed sweet tooth. Although, he is dressed a bit too nice for that. No plaid or denim? Huh.

You go up to the counter and order a half-dozen cherry tarts and a latte. You pay with the secret credit card you use for your online transactions and thank the girl behind the counter. As you turn, you find the man at the table turned in his seat. He glances at you as you carry out the tray of tarts and coffee.

You’re used to the stares. The men in Hammer Ford aren’t exactly subtle and your nights at The Horn have earned you a reputation, though those stories don’t make it past your front door. It’s just a little fun, you have a pint and tie your shirt above your belly button and dance. Nothing serious.

Your mom and dad are too chaste and pious to ever wander into the bar. It’s your escape, your safe space. Just for now. Just until you can get out of this hell hole.

[lostquinn]

Laughter

Ghost x (gn!) Reader

Fluff, teasing, very subtle nsfw!

Summary - you hear Ghost laugh for the first time and emotions take over as you finally realise that you're in love with him

So uhhhh... New obsession. I love Ghost cosplayers - maybe a König or Keegan fic soon! It's been a while but here you simps go! Sorry it's not my usual content!

Word count - 980

You had only been part of the 141 a few months, their combat medic that would follow the boys into the battlefield. They all appreciated having you around. All felt a little safer.

The team was between missions, spending time together in the lounge of base camp after lots of intensive missions.

You'd quickly gotten close to a few of them and currently sat on a couch next to Soap. Ghost, Gaz, Alejandro, Price, and Roach sat around in the room. You were all basking in the chance for relaxation. Ghost still wore his balaclava, yet apart from that, the whole team were dressed in more comfortable clothes than they wore each day.

For a moment, you'd been staring at Ghost, looking him over. Your eyes lingered on his, and you could see him raise a brow before squinting at you. There was something captivating by the way he stared at you.

Soon, you moved your attention to Soap as he started talking, ranting on about something. Suddenly, something Soap and said caused Ghost to laugh.

You snapped your head around to stare at him, eyes wide. You hadn't heard him laugh before. Something about the sound filled your cheeks with warmth. The way he stared at you made your skin erupt in goosebumps as butterflies came to life in your stomach.

A breath got caught in your throat, and you started to cough, hunching your shoulders slightly as you tried to regain your composure and breath.

"Need some water, love?" Ghost asked, raising a brow at the display. You nodded.

He handed you his bottle of water without thinking as Soap clapped you on the back gently. You unscrewed the cap of the bottle and took a sip. The taste of water wasn't the only thing on your lips. There was also the subtle taste of his lips.

That near enough made you drool. Your eyes widened, and you screwed the cap back on the bottle, quickly standing up and leaving the room.

Jesus christ.

You still had the bottle in your hand as you stumbled to your room, collapsing on your bed with a deep blush on your face as you thought back to him. Ghost. Simon.

Your mind was filled with thoughts that you hadn't considered before. Hearing him laugh again. Holding his hand, hugging him. Kissing him. Feeling his chest vibrate as you cuddle up to him in bed and make him laugh over something.

You were completely and utterly smitten, enamoured, and distracted by these newfound feelings and thoughts for your Lieutenant.

There was a light tapping at your door before it opened. You had hoped to see him but instead, Soaps worried face filled the door as he entered.

He carefully sat next to you, his hands tucked in his pockets.

"You alright?" He tilted his head towards you.

"I think I'm in love with Simon," you blurted out, instantly smacking your hand over your mouth as you stared at Soap. He stared back for a moment before chuckling.

"Congrats on being the last to find out," he grinned wolfishly as he stood up, making his way back out. "I'll tell him to come get his bottle back," he winked, smirking at you.

Fuck.

Soap soon disappeared from your room, and you waited in an agonising limbo as you waited for a knock at the door.

It felt like the wait went on forever, every set of footsepts that passed your room had you on edge. A lump grew in your throat as you waited.

Eventually, there was a knock and the door opened.

"Comin' in," Simon murmured before pressing his way into your room.

You could feel your heart beating in your chest as you stared up at him, your feet dangling over the edge of your bed. You felt like you'd turn into a complete mess any second.

"I believe you have something of mine," he said, his voice husky as he slowly approached you.

"I- uhm- yeah, I still have your bottle," you muttered, hardly able to think.

He leant down close to you, placing one gloved hand on your hip as he leant his other hand past you to grab his bottle. He was tantalisingly close. You could kiss him if you wanted to, and he kept his eyes on you. Staring you in the eyes before tracing his gaze down your body.

You squirmed slightly under his gaze and touch, his hot breath connecting with the skin of your neck through his balaclava. He knew exactly what he was doing, and you could see him trying to hold back a smirk.

He grabbed a hold of his bottle, clipping the carabiner to one of his belt loops so that he bottle hung at his hip.

Then, he grabbed your chin, keeping your face steady as he moved closer. He lifted his balaclava slightly, just enough so his lips and the tip of his nose were visible.

"Try not to choke for me just yet," he whispered before pressing his lips against yours.

Your mind went blank, your hands shooting up to his jaw as you held him close. His skin was hot and soft. His tongue traced along your bottom lip before he pulled away with a smirk.

He pulled his balaclava back down before standing up straight and pushing his hands into his pockets.

"Good job, love. I'll be sure to come back for more," he winked at you before swiftly leaving.

As he left, you heard him chuckle under his breath and you couldn't help but think about the next time you would hear him laugh. The next time you would feel his lips.

You dragged your bottom lip between your teeth, lapping up the layer of his spit that he'd left on your lip with his tongue. He was delicious and you couldn't wait for more.

[possibilistfanfiction]

I loved the little Detail where Ava wears a strap in footy!Au so my prompt is just any AU but Ava wears a strap (you can decide if its smutty or silly lol)

‘just because i struggled to accept my sexuality doesn’t mean i’m not open to…’

you wait for a moment, raising a brow when she doesn’t continue.

‘toys?’ you offer when it’s clear from her deepening blush she’s definitely bluffing.

‘yes,’ she says, trying to act very sure and certain, and truly you are god’s strongest soldier for not laughing at her, which would be both unkind and also detrimental to your mission. and, sure, you’ve died a few times, whatever, and won a holy war a few months ago, but there is, at the moment, no task more important to you than getting bea to finally go to the sex store with you. you’d talked about it in couples counseling for weeks now and you really, genuinely can’t stop thinking about how hot the potential is. whenever bea has been out you’ve taken care of those thoughts yourself, but sometimes you just stare at her hands while she does the most mundane tasks and feel like you’re about to explode.

‘sooooooo, we can go? now? like you said?’

she rolls her eyes but you’re unfazed. yes, ava, we can go.’

‘fuck yeah!’ you gather all of the things you might need — phone, wallet, sunglasses, backup pair of sunglasses, a little crystal someone on the venice boardwalk gave you — into your purse and grab your cane; beatrice neatly tucks her wallet into one back pocket, her phone in the other. her bun is perfect and, while her button up is slouchy and oversized, it is tucked impeccably into her slacks. you’re so, so fond of her you have to kiss her, and you feel her smile back.

she’d made you research which sex stores are queer-friendly, and even, if you were lucky, queer-centric, and you were relieved to find one not too far away. she’s turning red before she even parallel parks a few stores down from it, her neck flushing, and sometimes you forget the shame she’s felt around want. you’ve felt shame; you were intimate with it for a long, long time, a bedfellow you could never move away from, but never for this. 

‘hey,’ you say, as soft as you can while you’re so excited, ‘if you feel overwhelmed, we can totally leave. there’s ice cream, like, right there.’ you point across the street. ‘and you know i’m always happy to have ice cream.’

she takes a deep breath, as brave as always, braver by the day. ‘while i appreciate the sentiment, and trust that you do love ice cream, i — i would like to try this with you, ava.’

she’s so sincere you might cry, but you shake it off and nod. ‘okay. okay! let’s do it. if you feel weird, do you want a safeword.’

‘for a sex store?’

you laugh, shrug. ‘i mean, they support it.’

she smiles, clearly amused, and squeezes your hand, then gets out of the car to open your door, chivalrous as always. ‘i’ll be okay. thank you though.’

‘sure thing. kumquat, though, if you do need one.’

she laughs.

/

‘okay,’ you say, ‘ready?’

you wait for her quiet but confident yes and then walk out of your closet. beatrice had been the picture of casual composure in the sex store while you excitedly looked at everything, and had nodded when you decided on the strap and harness you liked best — with the help of a very cool employee who seemed to find bea’s blush very endearing, understandably so, and was kind and patient answering all of your questions — but now, when you walk out of your bathroom, her eyes widen and she worries her bottom lip in a way that makes you feel absolutely insane. 

‘oh,’ she breathes, lying on her back on your big bed in just a pair of practical black boxers, her hair loose around her on the pillows.

‘yeah?’

you crawl over to her, on top of her, so the strap just barely pushes against her, and you can feel her tremble beneath you, trying to keep all that desire inside. it’s the second most intoxicating thing you’ve ever felt. she touches your hip, then the leather of the harness, then the silicone of the ribbed dildo — a very nice teal, if you do so say yourself — you picked out. ‘i — wow,’ she breathes. 

you smile into her neck, follow it with a kiss. ‘let’s get this show on the road, then.’

‘ava.’

you push up a little so you can see her face; she tucks a strand of hair behind your ear sweetly. ‘sorry. i’m just really excited to fuck you.’

that gets her to take in a shaky breath and pull you down so your bodies are flush. and, like, you’ve been to a lot of different realms, seen a lot of holy shit, but nothing really compares to the expression on beatrice’s face when you, very carefully — after going down on her first, thank you very much, and then making sure to coat the dildo with lube — push into her. she clutches so hard to your shoulder blades you’re a little worried but then she moans, obscenely, by her standards, and breathes out a pained, desperate, ‘keep going.’

it’s, like, the best fucking thing, oh my god, and, afterward, you take the harness off and drop it unceremoniously on the floor next to the bed, then she curls up by your side, rests her head on your chest. you run your hands through her hair, sleepy and soothed, even though it’s definitely not late enough to really sleep. 

‘thank you,’ she says.

it’s sweet and so genuine; you smile to yourself and bend to kiss her forehead. ‘for railing you with a strap? my pleasure.’

you can sense her roll her eyes, even if you can’t see them. ‘for… i don’t know,’ she says, and you just wait patiently for her to gather her thoughts. ‘for helping me enjoy being myself.’

and, oh. ‘of course; it’s my favorite thing in the whole universe,’ you tell her. ‘and if it involves that, count me in, quite literally any time.’

her laugh is bright, happy, unafraid.

[the-dawn-star]

Place to Stay Klaus M. x Gilbert!Reader x Elijah M. part. 26

A/N: And here we are again! This took way too long and to be honest I have been feeling really uninspired with this story (also life has kept me busy and I haven't felt the best). But still I would love to hear you comments and opinions about the story. Also, any comments are really appreciated!!

-S

+1500ish words.

The rain hit the car window, but I didn’t mind. It kept my awareness of reality attached and made sure I didn’t wander into an endless loop of daydreaming and panic inducing memories. Elena and Stefan were sitting in the front seats, but neither had said anything since leaving. Elena needed a while to process the idea of me kissing Klaus. 

Elenas’ unwillingness to speak clarified that when we eventually spoke, it would be a shouting match. So, I tried my best to prevent the collision, so I had taken the same. 

The sight of our front yard made my heartbeat spike up. With a quick look at the car’s display mirror, showed Stefan’s eyes, who I made eye contact with and showed me he had realized it too.  

Stefan was always polite to me, and valued him, but I avoided upsetting my sister for quite some time.. He was Elena’s boyfriend before my friend. He never stopped his brother from harassing Bonnie, Caroline, Elena, me, or any other woman.  

I was last to get out of the car and face my sister. She was waiting on the porch. All the sadness I had seen before was gone. For a moment, I had thought, for once, it would be just Stefan who proved me and my sister in the house wrong by getting out of the car. But it was better, Stefan a master at resolving conflict, and… just maybe, he might see my side of the situation, too. Or perhaps Stefan would take Elena’s side just because they are dating, but I wanted to. No, I needed to think positive. 

All three of us got nearly dry. I wanted to use the rain as an excuse to run upstairs. Hide until the tension wouldn’t be so high. However, I didn’t have time to execute my escape plan because of Elena’s eyes being glued to me.  

“I’ll get the ring.” Stefan exclaimed before almost running upstairs.  

Elena walked through the hallway to the kitchen. The fridge opening and closing gave her away. I didn’t want to leave the entrance like I could just run away from my sister again. So, with all the care in the world, I walked to the kitchen seeing Elena drinking water next to the island counter.  

I heard Stefan walking down the stairs, most likely because he wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t startle us.  

I took my place on the armchair, not sure if it was a good idea if there was going to be a screaming match with my sister. Elena leaned to the counters not looking thrilled with the situation she was in.  

Stefan walked closer to me and opened his palm. That was the ring Jenna had promised me before her death. The ring was a small old golden band with little carvings engraved on it. I have looked at it since I was 10 years old.  

I picked up the ring, terrified like it could break against my fingers at any moment and turn into nothing. I turned to look at my sister, whispering thank you to her, but she didn’t look at me. Instead, She stared at the floor. I turned back to the ring on my fingertips before sealing it into my fist. I couldn’t wear it, not right now, at least.  

“Give the other one to her...” I turned to look at my sister, whose words had something that I couldn’t name or place. Stefan swapped a quick look with her for confirmation before tucking his hand into his jeans' back pocket and pulling out another ring.  

The Gilbert ring.  

Stefan handed the ring closer to me, but I couldn’t help but push myself against the pillow against my back.  

“I thought you would like to have it, just in case Klaus gets murderous against his brother’s ‘friend’,” Elena whispered, but still kept his eyes on the floor.  

I had always held the opinion that the Gilbert rings were not only ugly, but also useless in most situations. But still, wearing it might save my life one day, even if it forced me to wear such a massive and bulky ring.  

I took it from Stefan and examined it closer, running my fingertips against its rigid surface.  

I gave them one more look before closing my fist around them and I forced myself to close my eyes to make sure I wouldn’t get vertigo. Jenna had been so angry when she found out about our parentage. Especially when she found out that Elena had been in contact with Isobell... And now I had John's ring in my pocket next to the ring of the woman who I had considered more of a sister than an aunt. 

“Is that all...?” I asked.  I knew that saying thank you would have been the proper thing to do but for some reason the idea of thanking Elena caused my body to shiver.  

“That's all you are going to say?” And there it was... The anger, the disbelief, in my sister’s voice like I had murdered someone.  

“And what would you like me to say?” I asked completely calmly before standing up. I was ready to leave, leave anywhere that wasn’t this room. I wanted to go to my room, to my own special safe heaven where I could fall into dreamless sleep.  

But I didn’t get my chance, not that Stefan would have let me leave the room before Elena got out what she had been thinking about the whole car ride. The doorbell rang and I almost jumped because of my unpreparedness.  

Slowly, my sleeves being long enough to cover my fingertips and slowly I opened my fist with the rings inside and slid the bulkier one on to my right middle finger. 

Stefan let out a deep sigh before walking to the front door and opening it to the last person I thought I would see. Rebekah Mikaelson was standing at the door frame with a beautiful smile on her lips. Her eyes scanned through the room keeping her eyes on me for a second longer than the others, her smile softened, before turning back to Stefan. 

“What are you doing here?!” My sister asked, walking a bit too fast to the front door where the Original vampire was still standing. 

“I came to check on my friend. I know how bad you guys are at taking care of each other, so…” 

I picked myself off of the chair, but I didn't move closer to the door. Elena looked like she was ready to attack Rebekah, but I assume that it was due to walking in on me and Klaus. (Like it wasn’t enough that she had also walked in on me sitting on the counter pulling Elijah closer and closer to me). 

“Hey Rebekah..,” I whispered, bringing the woman’s eyes back to me. 

“Hello, darling. Great work with Damon but next time invite me so I can be a part of it.” 

I let out a small laugh but regretted it a second later when Stefan and my sister turned to look at me with a surprise on their faces. I dropped my gaze down. 

“Well now you have seen her, so you can leave…” Stefan tried to sound intimidating but failed to make any difference to Rebekah’s behavior. She was still looking at me, eyes fixated on me. 

Was she looking for injuries?

“Hmm...” Rebekah’s eyes didn’t leave me and if I knew her at all I might have been conscious of her eyes on me but maybe just knowing that she had come to check on me made my heart warm. Our eyes met for a second and I could see the worry in her warm eyes.  

Maybe if I hadn’t known of her supernatural nature or her family history, I might have become her friend the normal way – at school while doing normal schoolwork. 

“I don’t think so..., you see I have grown fond of our dear Y/N. 

I could feel my cheeks getting hotter, but my momentary shyness was ruined when Rebekah decided to step over the door frame making it clear to everyone that the Original vampire had in fact a permission to step into the house. The house that was meant to be Original family-free. 

Elena’s face dropped and I wanted to sink through the ground all the way to the core of the Earth. And by the looks of Elena, she looked like she was ready to attack me and end my life in seconds.  

Without raising too much attention to myself, I put the chunky, ugly Gilbert ring on.  

Maybe it was a good idea that Elena and Stefan gave me the ring...

...

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[kinghe]

for @akai-anna

1.7k | rated T

i.

Akashi watched the ripples of the pond by his sandals, his arms tucked into the sleeves of his yukata in an attempt to avoid the inevitability of mosquitos. Tokyo's summer heat triumphed even well into the evening, keeping all but the blaring song of cicadas docile and languid.

"What are you doing over there, obocchan? Don't fall in."

"I would appreciate it if you would stop calling me that, Nijimura-san."

"Why not?" Nijimura came to stand by his side with a grin Akashi sensed through his words, spared from straining his neck to look. "It suits you."

Akashi blew out a soft sigh and sent an immediate warning glance before Nijimura's large hand could ruffle the top of his head. "Alright, alright," came Nijimura's amused mutter, stuffing his hand back into his pocket. "Want me to show you how?"

A smile graced Akashi's lips, slow and nearly imperceptible. He said, "if Nijimura-san is willing to indulge me, then of course, I must take him up on his offer."

"I'll teach you the proper way. Not like those idiots," Nijimura said, crouching down and rummaging through stones. The idiots he was referring to, Aomine and Kise (with Kuroko caught at the scene of the crime), were squabbling as much as they were competing earlier that day.

"You'll want to find one with a flat edge, see. Like this one. And you gotta get the right angle, so lean down a little. The technique is in the hand, so if you hold it like this... oi. You listening?"

"Yes."

Nijimura gestured him closer by crooking his finger, and Akashi bent at the knees, bracing his hands atop. Like this, they weren't so different in height. "You got it?"

Akashi's stone counted to a total of nine skips and skidding to a dribble at the end - to Nijimura's measly six.

Nijimura watched the affair with crossed arms, and spoke only a minute after Akashi's stone breached the surface and disappeared.

"Yep," he said, "that checks out."

Akashi allowed the harassment of his hair this time.

ii.

"Hey," Nijimura said when Akashi opened the door. "Thought you might be awake. Uh. My roommate brought a girl over and locked me out."

Akashi stared. "It's a long walk from your dormitory to mine. If you need a place to stay, there are surely better candidates on campus. Reo, for example."

"Actually," Nijimura scratched his cheek, the neutral scowl of his face enhanced with the situation, "I was going to ask you to help mediate stuff with the supervisor after I've put my foot through the door. Since I'll most likely break it."

Akashi blinked slowly.

"...since you're, you know, good with that kind of thing."

"I see." Akashi said. After a beat, he swung the door the rest of the way and stepped back, allowing Nijimura passage.

"Oh, it's fine. I didn't want to inconvenience you more than I already am."

"Come," Akashi said, neither a suggestion nor a demand, and rather a third, more absolute thing. The circumstance had tickled Akashi somehow, he could tell, despite the infallibility of mismatched eyes.

Nijimura paused, hand on the door frame as he frowned down at him.

Akashi smiled. "It would be my folly as captain to merely observe the overexertion of one of our star players." Nijimura had learned fast that if there was amusement, excitement - rather, any stimulation, it would show in the intensifying of Akashi's gaze rather than the cold curl of his lips. "There will be no need for violence tonight."

"Aye aye, captain." Nijimura muttered underneath his top lip, sliding past Akashi into a room that was double the size of his own, and with half a mind to flick his junior-in-middle-school-now-irritatingly-grown-up-and-in-high-school's forehead to prove him wrong. Just as soon as he stopped being ridiculously frightening.

iii.

"You used to be cute." Nijimura told him over lunch at a cafe Mibuchi insisted on to celebrate Sei-chan's graduation but deemed themselves too unwell to attend.

"Used to?" Akashi repeated, interested.

"Yeah, when you followed me around like a little duckling." Nijimura leaned back with an expression of mourning. "Now you're a menace."

Akashi raised an eyebrow.

"-Devil incarnate." Nijimura rectified.

Akashi placed the teacup between his lips and took a sip. Seemingly appeased.

"I can revert to that, if you like."

The smirk was concealed by the rim of Akashi's cup, but Nijimura caught it all the same. "No way."

"Why not? It seems to be what you prefer," Akashi quipped. Nijimura steeled himself in stone-faced despair, caught into a snare of his own making. Akashi's lips were pale pink and soft and tended to part and curl meticulously around words for clear and precise enunciation, "Senpai."

Nijimura angrily sipped his own tea like it would alleviate the heat rising in his ears.

iv.

"Ironically, you seem to become cuter as you age." Akashi said thoughtfully, "it is no easy feat to surpass me. I must commend you, Senpai."

"Oh, shut up."

a. (that one au)

"You're here again," Nijimura blurts out. Behind him somewhere, someone snickers (a mental note to have Tatsuya in a headlock as soon as the cafe closes and no one is there to report him to authorities).

"Your words imply that this is a bad thing." Redhead says lightly (mental note to somehow kick himself in the ass even later after Tatsuya has left). "I apologise if my presence is unsavory to you."

"It's not. Of course not." Nijimura says in a stilted voice. He places the menu on the table before the man, and averts his eyes when he realises he's been staring too long at the protrusion of collarbones and the shadows that dip below the fabric of a neckline. "Here."

A small smile forms on Redhead's lips. "In that case, I am flattered to have made some kind of impression on you."

"I think you'd have that effect on anyone you come across." It comes out before Nijimura's brain could activate and review, and immediately flushes. "You've got," he makes some helpless gesture, "bright red hair and - shit, I'm just gonna stop talking."

A chuckle. "No, I assure you. Please, continue."

"I wont."

"A shame. You are also exceptionally memorable, though I am certain you know this already."

"Right, yeah. The tatts," Nijimura mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. He tries his best to hide them; the manager's complaints are a ceaseless cover up, you idiot, you're scaring all my customers away and do you ever stop glaring and what are you, a delinquent? Simply put, it's not good for business.

"Well, no." Redhead blinks. "It is because you are quite handsome."

Every customer service platitude dies on Nijimura's tongue. Any semblance of coherency escapes his brain. He is an unbreathing, immobile, useless mass and this man calmly scans through the menu and then slides it back into Nijimura's stiff grasp.

"Today's special looks delightfully appetizing. I'll have that." Redhead smiles, "and your number, if you please."

Nijimura's jaw goes slack, and he strangles out some sort of reply and manages some parody of a nod before he beelines to the kitchen.

Later, when he has cooled and checked to confirm that yes, he is no longer red everywhere, he brings the man's order to him. When expectant eyes follow, he exhales, digs into his pocket and offers the sticky note to the man.

The eye contact they share is too long for him to regain his bearings and he feels the blush crawling back with fervour, but forces himself not to look away. He waits in agony for the man to take his offering, but he does not, and is thus subject to further observation. Two striking red irises pierce into his gaze, dangerous and tender.

"I can't win, can I." He groans.

"I wasn't aware we were playing a game." Redhead finally takes the note and pockets it, radiating a satisfaction similar to that of a cat with a fat load of cream.

"...Yes, you were." Nijimura says dryly.

"It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Nijimura-san." He grins instead, a sharp, elegant thing. "My name is Akashi Seijuro. May I ask if you are free this evening?"

b. (senpai sandwich sandwich but nijimura is the filling )

"I cannot concentrate with this abhorrent noise. If you are insistent on such juvenile hobbies, perhaps you may find the bedroom amenable."

"Hey." Mayuzumi clicked his fingers in the direction of Nijimura. "You can tell ojousama over there that the communal area is what...? Oh yeah. A communal area."

Nijimura sighed long and bone-deep, as the quarreling continued over his head, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Chihiro, really. Although your childishness knows no bounds, this is unbecoming of even you."

"Tell ojousama that if he has a problem then maybe for once in his life, he can move to the bedroom."

As soon as the fight escalated to Mayuzumi rising from the couch to hurl insults, his rhythm game seemingly forgotten, and Akashi responding with retorts to further incense than to pacify, glacial grin growing with each word, Nijimura grabbed the back of Mayuzumi's shirt and yanked him down, in the same fashion, whipped his head around to shoot Akashi a dark look.

They both froze.

"Do I need to spank you both?" Nijimura snapped. "Is that it? Because it sounds to me like two annoying little brats are begging for it. Or am I mistaken? Won't someone," The glare he leveled bore the legend of diminishing better men in multitudes, "kindly tell me."

There was silence. Peace, even. For a brief moment.

"Why am I not surprised you're into that?" Mayuzumi rearranged himself on the couch. "It's got your name written all over it."

"Nijimura-san," Akashi tapped the tip of his pen to his lips. "is an organic case. He has been this way since middle school."

"Gross." Mayuzumi remarked. "You were playing into each other's kinks since before puberty."

"That's enough. If Nijimura-san would like to try something, it is only fair that we afford him the same safe space we have generously provided for you and your range of deviancy."

"Well, let's hear it then." Mayuzumi nudged Nijimura with his foot, "don't be shy."

Nijimura found the bedroom was indeed amenable, especially when locked.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

Hi! For the reverse prompts:

Accidentally kidnapping a mafia boss for jackharding sounds sooo funny bc jack genuinely does not mean to and does not care while chick just follows him around avoiding his responsibilities.

Bonus his men knowing damn well what chick is doing and where he is and just letting him be (like imagine blakely and douglass walking into a random diner and seeing chick tucked in a booth and the three just staring at each other for a beat before dougley walking right back out) while the other families are spitting mad asking where he is

Jack's new-ish at this, but he's not a fucking idiot. When his boys bring him back a man who matches the general description, he holds out his hand. "Wallet."

"What? You need one?" the guy asks. He stares at Jack, and Jack stares back. The man snorts after a moment and takes out his wallet. He holds it out. "Say please."

"Fuck you," Jack replies and takes the wallet. He opens it and finds the driver's license. "Neil Harding," he reads. He looks at his boys.

"He goes by Chuck," says Winks.

"I go by Chick," says Neil Harding.

"Why?" asks Lemmons.

"Who cares," Jack says before Neil Harding can say anything else. "Winks, Lemmons, get fucked until I'm no longer mad at you."

"So, we're fired?" Lemmons asks, all cheeky grin.

Jack wishes he could threaten it, but Rosie's his best lieutenant, and he's desperately in love with Lemmons, and Lemmons and Winks are both actually competent most of the time. They just don't understand how you do a kidnap properly. Jack hopes Hambone and Brady are having a good time on their honeymoon, but he also needs them to get back sooner rather than later.

Winks and Lemmons leave Jack's office. Neil Harding looks around, then sits on the leather couch along the left wall. He reaches inside his suit jacket and pulls out a cigar.

"You mind?"

"You care?" Jack asks.

"Not really," Neil Harding says.

Jack picks up the pewter ashtray he keeps on the windowsill. He carries it over and sets it on the side table next to Neil Harding's elbow. He pulls out his cigarettes as Neil Harding lights his cigar and takes a long drag.

"So, you're the Irish Fox," he says, snapping his lighter closed and tucking it back in his pocket.

"And you're not Chuck Harding," Jack replies. He sits in the chair across from the couch. "Am I gonna get the Moose after me?"

Neil Harding's smile falls away and is replaced by a sharp smirk and a sharper gaze. Jack's known his name for years. Everyone in the business does. He'd been Slick Chick when he'd been younger, able to talk his way into any room despite his low connections and fluffy hair the color of a backyard hen. It's been shortened to Chick in the two decades since, though Jack doesn't know how or why. If his father knew the lore, he hadn't written it down or said it out loud before getting shot in the back of the head by Chuck Harding.

"I believe you mean the Bucks," Chick says. He takes another draw off his cigar, then taps the ash into the ashtray. "You're, what? Third generation? Your grandfather got your family going, then your father moved you up the ranks--my sympathies, by the way. He was always willing to listen and made choices based on facts."

"Appreciate hearing that," Jack says. "But I'm still worried your guard dogs are going to snap at my heels."

Chick glances at his watch, then at the phone on Jack's desk. "Egan and Cleven will hold still for three hours before striking. But it's been about an hour, which means they know it's you."

"No doubt," Jack agrees. He nods towards his phone. "Feel free to call them and give them the okay. Or you can let yourself out."

"You don't seem worried I'm going to get revenge for this," Chick says.

Jack stands and flicks his own ash into the ashtray. "You could have done that when they grabbed you, but you let them walk you in here without touching them."

"They're boys," Chick says. "And besides, I wanted to be the first man to say he'd met the elusive fox."

Jack snorts and shakes his head. "I've got the same name as my father. What's elusive about that?"

"You don't go to the shows. You don't see pictures. You don't go out to eat. No one's spotted you out and about in a year."

Jack stubs out his cigarette and meets Chick's eyes. Chick's watching him with that same sharp gaze, but the smirk is gone. His face is sincere and serious. "I wasn't supposed to take this job until I was thirty," he says. "And there are some fellas who like to take out the young ones."

"Chuck Harding's a big fan of that," Chick says. "Your father's the eldest he's ever taken out."

"Which I'd like to pay him back for," Jack replies, the anger rising up in the sudden wave it always appears. "By taking everything he has and leaving him poor and alone and friendless."

"Your boys were nothing but polite," Chick says as he stands. "And I know they're not your usual snatch team."

"They're on their honeymoon," Jack says.

Chick huffs a laugh. "Disgusting. What kind of mob man shits where he eats?"

"From what I hear, your Elks."

"Bucks," Chick corrects, and there's a smirk on his face again, but it's softer this time, almost a smile. "What about you, Jack Kidd, Irish Fox. You like to shit where you eat?"

Jack shakes his head. "I suppose I am your type," he says. "Half your age and blonde."

"And leggy," Chick adds, and now it really is a smile, and it's a hell of a smile. "But before we decide on the wedding china, how about I call the Bucks and get them on Chuck Harding? They've been working an angle to make him think he's made a new friend who actually works for me."

"You'll hand me Chuck Harding when you've put a guy in already?"

"I want him out of the way because he's sloppy and rude. You want him ruined because he took your father. Your reasons are better and get me the result I want."

Jack considers the option. He licks the corner of his mouth when he catches Chick staring. "And however will I thank you?" he asks.

Chick outright beams. "Wrap your legs around my waist one time, and we'll call it even."

Jack meets that sharp, confident grin and feels a grin of his own. "If you think you can keep up."

[drunkewok]

Tiger Inside Chapter Three

Stray Kids Mafia (Ongoing)

Masterlist

Likes, reblogs and feedback always greatly appreciated

WC: 2.9k

Pairing: Lee Know x reader

Genre: Series, Enemies to lovers, non-idol AU, Mafia AU

Synopsis: After years spent away from the family, two strangers start frequenting your place of work, only to bring daunting news. Flung back into the world of the mafia, you try to adapt to your new normal and work alongside a team of eight skilled members to uncover a mystery and take down an unknown enemy.

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, drinking, swearing, violence, weapons

Disclaimer: Any portrayal of Stray Kids or any other idols in this story is purely fiction and do not at all reflect their own personalities or how I view them as a person, it is purely for the sake of the story.

Please do not copy or repost my work

Night reflected off the windows of the city, an eerie silence settling across the streets like fog. My stomach tightened itself into knots, processing the different outcomes possible from this night. Sliding my hand into my purse as I walked, my fingers brushed over the fabricated wall to ensure my handgun was tucked into its discreet pocket. A level of self defense I’ve grown too accustomed to leaving inside of my bedside table instead of on my person. I knew if things escalated, I needed to be prepared. If this goes south, I need to be ready.

The lights of the Tancheon Bridge came into my view in the distance, the quiet hum of vehicles passing over as I neared closer. Far ahead I could make out the silhouette of the two blonde figures leaning against the truck of a car, clearly deep in a conversation by the movement of bodies in the darkness. I slowed my steps as I approached, delaying the notice of my presence, as I took a deep breath and held my purse close to my body.

Felix was the first to notice me, immediately standing and greeting me with nothing but a blank stare. Hyunjin’s head slowly turned in my direction, almost a look of surprise on his face, as he shuffled his hands out of his pockets. We observed each other in silence for a moment. I scanned their figures, ensuring their hands were visible and not implicating immediate danger.

“So what is it that you had to tell me so desperately?” My voice is flat, my attempts at sounding level headed seeming to come off successful. Felix cleared his throat, cutting eye contact and staring at his feet. “Care to explain why you’ve been keeping surveillance on me the last few months?”

“Things aren’t going well with the family.” I didn’t expect Hyunjin’s voice to cut through first, my eyes immediately locking on his, realizing his cold demeanor had melted, his eyes showing that of sorrow. “Your Father knew things might reach back to you, so he asked us to keep an eye on you.” Felix’s gaze stayed firmly on his feet, avoiding my own in any sense of the matter.

“Care to explain to me further? Or are you gonna try and stay mysterious and keep things vague? Because this really isn’t the time.” My irritation was dripping off my lips, my own worries hiding themselves behind my words. I could feel the shaking manifesting in my bones, my expectations for the worst already becoming apparent.

“He’s had someone on his tail for quite some time now” He cleared his throat before continuing, now opting for also avoiding my gaze, his feet shuffling through the dirt in front of him.

“Jesus Christ Hyunjin, get to the point.” I kept my distance, still wary of their intentions, my grip on the strap of my purse growing tighter with the tension sitting thick in the air. Hyunjin finally raised his head back to me, eyes meeting mine in a painful gaze.

“He’s dead, y/n.” His eyes looked shallow, his own sleepless nights living under his eyes only just now appearing evident to me. My chest tightened, processing the sharp words I knew would eventually reach his lips. I hoped to stay ignorant, the day I knew would eventually be coming still hitting me like a bag full of bricks. I struggled to keep myself upright, my legs quickly growing too weak for my frame. “We were supposed to just stay distant, but he said if anything directly happened to him you needed to be under heavier surveillance.” His words sounded fuzzy, my brain struggling to keep up. My sight began to blur as I blinked away tears making their way into my eyes. “Y/n-”

“What about my brother?” I sharply cut him off, needing to hear that I wasn’t the last surviving member of the family line. My thoughts raced, what does this mean for the family? What does this mean in terms of how I’ve been living? My eyes stayed sharp on Hyunjin, my jaw tense while his fell slack at a loss for words. Finally Felix’s rough voice pulled through, his eyes still focused on the ground.

“Jiho is safe.” A breath I was unaware had been lodged in my chest left in a sigh of relief, stepping forward and finding support on a half wall. “He took over after it happened.” Felix scratched the back of his neck as he stared down to the water below before turning back to me. “He’s actually the one who gave the order to bring you back.”

“Excuse me? Bring me back!?” I scoffed, turning away from the two as I bit my cheek in irritation. The chill running through my veins quickly turned itself into fire, the burn spreading its way through my skin. “Wasn’t the whole point of sending me off to keep me away from all of-” My hands waved as I loosely gestured to the air around Hyunjin and Felix “-this?”

“It was.” Hyunjin crossed his arms, his eyes drilling holes into my skull as if they were shooting daggers directly through them. His voice stayed flat, his own frustrations floating into the air. “And it was working great, but it’s quite evident that’s not an option anymore.”

It felt like I had been hurled back to the start line. Years of work put in to formulate an unembellished life, years spent hiding behind my apartment door before finally stepping into society. My head pounded as I tried to piece together the puzzle sitting in front of me. The adrenaline coursing through my veins, sending my heart rate skyrocketing. I settled my face in my hands in an attempt to ground myself from the spinning world around me, the three of us falling back into quick silence.

I was exhausted, the sleepless night finally catching up with my body. I didn’t possess the mental capacity to currently digest the information flying through my mind. This morning the plan was to flee, to escape two strangers close on my tail, but now they stand before me with the biggest gut-dropping bomb of information and my short list of options before me.

Continue to flee,

or go with them.

The unknown assailant could very well be standing in front of me, or around every dark corner that’ll present itself. The familiar paranoia that was ingrained in my body for so long had returned, rearing its angry teeth and making its home within my bones once more.

“Listen, I know this is a lot to take in.” Felix’s eyes showed his levels of distress, the three of us sharing the sunken, dark eyes of stress. “We didn’t even think you’d show up, but you really need to come back with us.” I scoffed as I studied my feet, dragging one back and forth through the dirt, the shuffling being the only noise echoing off the ground around us. The cold breeze provided no soothing comfort, instead the wind slipping it’s way through my hair was causing nothing but a sensory irritation.

I lifted my head, flicking my hair out of my face with a deep exhale, drinking in the moonlight reflecting off the river. I knew there was no sense in running, this would all quickly catch back up to me no matter how far and how fast I ran. I glanced back at the men beside me, both of them watching me intensely as if to catch my every movement.

“Alright. What’s the plan then?” I allowed myself to lift off the wall, fully standing before Hyunjin and Felix, the latter’s eyes growing wide in surprise. “What? You act like if I left you guys wouldn’t find me immediately.” He gave a weak nod to accompany a shrug, before glancing over to Hyunjin.

“Well let’s go get your stuff then.” Hyunjin turned towards the car, opening the driver's door and sliding in. I hesitated approaching, feeling like invisible ropes were pulling me back. I watched as Felix rounded the car, holding open a back door and gesturing me in. My gut was telling me to book it, run the opposite direction and don’t look back. My eyes flicked between Felix and the car as he beckoned me over again, my feet finally taking me in his direction before sliding in, Felix taking the seat beside me.

I fidgeted with my hands in my lap, that familiar painful silence falling over the vehicle as Hyunjin pulled away. I almost opened my mouth to give him directions to my apartment, but quickly swallowed the words once I remembered that they both definitely knew where I lived. An image of the white envelope flashed through my mind, the panic from that moment flooding my system again. This was really happening, I was returning home.

The silence lingered for the entire drive, none of us speaking a word to each other until we were parked outside of my building. Felix exited the vehicle with me, following as I opened the main door and made my way towards the elevators. Clearly they weren’t going to leave me unattended, thwarting any chance I had to make a run for it. The elevator doors shut behind us, encapsulating us in the confined space as the box rose up the shaft.

“You don’t need to be scared of him.” Felix’s eyes stayed focused on the rising number on the screen as he spoke, his voice was soft, embodying a calming nature. “He just seems cold because everything’s been intense at home, and having to come get you just added a lot to his plate.” I scoffed once again, tucking my hair behind my ear but also opting for not looking in his direction.

“Oh please. I’ve dealt with worse.” As the doors dinged, I slid out before him, stopping any chance he had of response. I was thankful that I was already packed, but at least I could bring a bit more with me now that I wouldn’t be over encumbered trying to be on the run with a suitcase. I clicked the key within the lock of my door, slowly creeping it open and taking in the dark environment that I left the apartment in.

The curtains still sat closed, any source of light shut out. It felt eerie, the silence falling across the rooms a bit too much for comfort. I flicked on the light, illuminating the room before me, the glow of the bulb melting over the darkness. My feet took me forward slowly, taking in my surroundings and letting it sink in that I wouldn’t be spending another night within the safe space I had created for myself so long ago. Felix stayed planted by the door, watching as I slowly made my way around the room, his eyes falling on the already packed suitcase by the door, prepped and ready for takeoff.

“Looks like you already had some plans for tonight.” As I turned around, catching his eyes crossing from the suitcase to me with a laugh.

“Listen, two strangers linger around my lounge for months then a letter appears under my door with a name I haven’t spoken for ten years, did you really expect me not to try and run?” His shoulders shrugged in agreement, accepting his own poor judgment of the situation. “I just can’t say I planned to be leaving alongside you two.” I sighed as I glanced around the room one more time. “Let me just grab a few more things.” His nod sent me off towards my bedroom, him following closely behind me. It felt as though I was being taken prisoner, needing someone attending to my presence at all moments. A constant presence breathing down my neck, preventing any opportunity to run. Pulling my backpack out of my closet, I began gathering items originally deemed unimportant if I was traveling solo.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way.” I broke my eyes from the backpack laying across my bed as I looked up slightly towards Felix, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed, his solemn gaze still following me.

“I knew the day would come.” I pursed my lips, attempting to ignore the grief over taking my mind, the concoction of lack of sleep and grief finally beginning to catch up with me after the initial adrenaline made its way out of my system. My muscles were definitely weak, my movements slow as if someone installed a delay switch directly into my central nervous system. The only thing I could hope for at the moment was that wherever they were taking me would have a comfortable bed.

I grabbed my favorite hoodie, my fingers running across the fabric before pulling it over my head, hauling my backpack over my shoulder and making my way towards the door. Felix stepped aside, flicking off the light as we left my bedroom, the cave I spent endless time in, hiding myself away. I poked my head into the bathroom, turning on the light as I scanned the room for any last second grabs before stepping away and allowing myself to be whisked away to somewhere unfamiliar.

Taking a deep breath, I turned off the final light in the living room, the apartment once again falling into a deep darkness. As I reached for my suitcase, Felix waved me off, insisting on taking it for me. I rolled my eyes as I accepted defeat and made my way past him and out to the hall, once again him directly on my heels. Clicking the door shut behind me, I inserted the key and turned it for what might be my last time, it finally sinking in that I was truly leaving.

With my luggage packed into the trunk, Felix and I slid back into our seats of the warm car. Hyunjin eyed me through the rear view as I buckled myself in and let my head droop backwards into the seat, my level of exhaustion increasing with each minute. My eyelids were heavy, the burden of forcing them to stay open slowly taking over me as they began to flutter shut.

“Are you just going to stare or are you going to start the car.” Words were beginning to be difficult to formulate, my ability to articulate fading fast. Felix snickered beside me as the car finally came to life and drove out onto the street.

The ride felt excessively long, the silence possibly contributing to the slow passage of time. I tried to study on the street lights above, counting each one as they flew past the car, briefly illuminating the cab. My head sat against the cold glass, my hopes of keeping conscious fading as fast as I was. The battle finally being won as my eyes forced their way closed and I finally fell into a state of slumber.

I rubbed my eyes as I slowly came to in the darkness, my mind trying to play a quick game of catch up to my current predicament. I glanced around me, noticing an empty car and my backpack still sat beside me. I sat up slowly, unbuckling my seatbelt and letting out a yawn as my face scrunched.

I’m jolted by surprise at the slamming of the trunk, looking through the back window to see both Hyunjin and Felix behind the car, my suitcase unloaded. My feet reached out to touch the concrete as I hoisted my tired body from the vehicle, my backpack slung back over my shoulder.

“Do I even want to know what time it is?” I stretched my arms behind me, searching for relief of my tight muscles from drifting to sleep in the car.

“4am.” Hyunjin pulled my suitcase behind him as he started making his way up the long stretch of walkway. “And hurry up, pretty sure all three of us want a warm bed right now.” Felix waited back for me to start following, slipping in behind step with me once again.

Finally my eyes reach the large home sitting before me, softly illuminated within the dark night by lights adorning the outside. Dark stone wrapped around the base like a belt, topped with equally deeply shadowed siding, and windows and railings framed with black liner. Hyunjin continued forward, climbing the stairs toward the front door as my eyes skimmed over the substantial building in front of me.

It felt like a looming beast, a dark omen sitting amongst a sea of trees. The air felt heavy on my shoulders, the weight gluing me to my spot and preventing me from continuing further. A part of my brain was still hoping this was some form of sleep deprivation delirium, the mirage of a body of water in the middle of the desert. But I knew what stood before me was my new reality, the need to reform myself once again and adapt. Adapt to my new normal. Felix's hand ever so slightly rested on my back, causing a slight jolt through my body at the sudden first physical contact he's made with me. He held out his other hand to the house, guiding me forward.

"Com'on, let's get you into a bed."

Next chapter

[wallspikes]

Chapter 4

almost as the clock strikes 12 here is chapter FOUR. one whole year later. sorry. i cant expect myself to meet deadlines i make for myself. i think its like 3.5k words o7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Gio, no doubt sitting in the ruins of a sand dune beyond the lengths of repair, and more than likely covered in a plethora of various bug bites, felt that he was building more bridges than he had burned in the past day. The little man hadn’t run for cover the minute he’d sat down to make himself comfortable, though they still looked ready to jump away at the first sign of danger. Gio guessed he could count that as a success.

The time on his phone was a little after twelve-thirty— Gio finished off the last of the granola bar and tucked the wrapper into his pocket. He peered down at the stranger, who warily glanced up at him. The expression on their face was uncertain, their eyebrows upturned in worried arches, their cheeks a blotchy red; Gio remembered they were crying while he tried to free them from the net. He suddenly felt bad for making them stand there. “You can leave if you want,” he offered, “I’m not trying to keep you here. B-But, that doesn’t mean I don’t appreciate this, of course!” 

“I didn’t know if you were real or not, coming out here,” he started, scratching the back of his neck. “My sister saw the bite you gave me and told me it looked like some animal, and I was sorta starting to believe her..?” Gio shrugged the feeling of doubt away and grinned, “So, thanks for talking to me— or, uh, standing with me. It's nice to not feel crazy.”

The little man shifted in their spot, awkwardly kicking sand to cover their feet only to shake it off again. Despite the dismissal, they still stood rooted to their spot, with no intention of leaving, it seemed. They moved to hold the peanut beneath an arm and instead focused on the sticky knots that matted their beard from the honey of the granola bar.

Gio watched them tug at their beard, wincing each time their neck jerked from a particularly stubborn clump until the secondhand pain became too much to bear. “Here,” he offered, leaning over to pull a water bottle from his backpack, “Have some water. It might help get the honey out before you rip off your beard.”

The stranger's hand pulled from their beard, their grooming interrupted as Gio reached for his backpack. They clutched the peanut with white knuckles and curled their toes in the sand, charged to bolt if Gio decided to make any more sudden movements. Gio offered a placating hand, his water bottle gripped in the other fist. “Sorry—!” He mumbled, embarrassed at his lack of foresight, “I'll move slower, promise.”

Gio could feel the little man's eyes intently on him as he carefully poured a capful of water, as though every little move he made was under the most intense scrutiny. He placed it a few steps away from his calf and quickly withdrew his hands, waiting for the stranger to make their decision. They considered the offering, then turned to the nearby underbrush; Gio could watch the wheels turn in their head as they weighed the benefits of freshwater against the safety of the bramble. Mindlessly, a hand reached up to fiddle with their beard, but recoiled at the feeling of matted knots. They turned to the capful of water again with a hesitant expression.

”You don't need to worry,“ Gio assured them, “It's just water. It’s a little warm. But I promise it’s clean, I’ve been drinking it all day. Uh, unless you're worried about germs, or something— I can't promise you it's that clean.“

The stranger stared up at him for a few moments, that same worried expression still on their face, and Gio waited with bated breath. He could feel the little man searching for a lie in his expression, and Gio hoped he wasn't falsely showing one. He offered a smile, friendly and hopeful as he tried to hide his nervousness. Thankfully, though, the stranger's scrutiny didn't last much longer— they seemed to come to the conclusion that they could tolerate his presence for a little longer if it benefited them, whatever Gio's motives were.

Gio watched curiously as the little man pulled the cap of water further from his calf and started to drink, cupping handfuls of water to their mouth with rapid fervor; they must've been thirstier than they let on. Once their beard was thoroughly soaked, they worked on tugging out the knots again, this time with ease. Gio grinned, satisfied that the man appeared a little better, but he still wished he could get a closer look at them.

His little guest still entertained themself with the cap of water, dipping their face in the pool, their peanut temporarily discarded at their side. Gio waited until their face was submerged to begin to move, slowly crossing his legs until he could lean his elbows into the sand and stare down at the man as if studying a particularly interesting insect.

When they lifted their head and wiped the water from their eyes, the stranger caught sight of Gio looming over them and leapt away, the capful of water spilling in their haste. They stood, charged to run. Gio watched their every little movement with quiet fascination. He absorbed every detail— from the messy stitches in their clothes to the pinkish sunburn that colored their skin. Their expression was tight with worry and their hair bristled on end as Gio’s eyes passed closely over them. Out from the sides of their thick, full hair stuck two large, round ears that twitched at every little sound. Gio exhaled — still awed by the existence of the little man — and accidentally rustled the hair of the stranger. “Sorry,” he leaned back, suddenly beginning to worry all this studying might kill them, “You’re just really cool.”

There was no response. Gio watched the man’s puffed-up fur gradually start to settle. They patted down any patches that persisted in a bristle. Gio sat back on his heels, reached to check for the time, and felt the weight of his eyelids double the second the number ticked on screen. 

Gio yawned, exhaustion beginning to catch up with him as the night continued in its standing lull. He turned his head up to the sky, past the tall bushes and the bamboo to stare at the stars, and sighed. “I should probably go home.” More of a statement than a suggestion, he reached behind himself for his backpack. “Are you headed home soon?”

The redhead straightened up a bit at being addressed, and responded with a quick nod. They took a few steps towards the bushes. 

“Cool.” Gio craned his neck over the bushes, then through their lower brambles. He wasn’t sure what exactly he was looking for — a small, dollhouse-like structure beneath the leaves, or a glimmer of light? — but he saw nothing. He tugged on his backpack. “Do you want me to walk you back?” He tried.

They looked uncomfortable with the suggestion, slightly curling in on themself while they bared a set of awkwardly grimacing yellowing teeth. They shook their head for good measure, though Gio had already gotten the message. Disappointed, he nodded. “Well, what if we meet up again sometime?” Gio held out hope for another shot.

No harsh reaction immediately followed the inquiry, which Gio took for a good sign, though the long pauses of blank stares were equally just as unnerving. He held his breath while he waited for an answer, watching the little man thoughtfully square their jaw as their eyes quickly snapped to meet his, like they were searching for the source of an ulterior motive there. For some reason, Gio felt himself getting nervous — was he hiding something? He didn’t think so. Regardless, he did his best not to show it. 

When the little man found nothing in his eyes, they subtly let their jaw relax and rumbled an exhausted growl of relief. Their expression betrayed the sound, their brow still pulled tightly to their nose, upturned with worry — Gio had half a mind to ask if they always looked like that, though he was beginning to become more unsure if the question would be answered with a ‘no.’ But, even so, as they hesitantly shrugged — a response that could realistically be a polite decline, had the little man meant it that way — Gio was ecstatic. “That’s great!” He exclaimed, the nervousness that had seized him just moments before making way for a giddy feeling of enthusiasm. “What’s best for you? Should I come here, or do you want to start coming to me…?”

Shellshocked, but too reserved to correct Gio if their intention had been to deny, they slowly pointed at him. The man seemed fairly settled in his decision, though Gio was still a bit unsure of the agreement. “You want to come to me?” The little man nodded. “Okay, yeah! That works fine.”

He knelt on the boardwalk and leaned over the lip until he spotted the little red-headed man slightly tucked away into the foliage. “I live on Atlantic, if that means anything,” he grinned, pointing through the trees and bushes, “It’s two walks over, just skip the first one; the gray house is mine. It has our name on it— well, it says ‘Clark,’ which is my last name. I’m there pretty often, if you need anything. Or if you just want to say hi.”

The little man glanced in the direction he was pointing, as if to politely consider the offer before giving their answer — then nodded. Gio, hovering upside down over the edge of the boardwalk, gave an excited thumbs up, “Great! My family’s fine, so if you see them, don’t get too concerned. But, uh, I’ll try to find time out there at night for myself, so you can talk to just me, if you want.”

The man didn’t respond this time, their expression only tightening a bit — an expression Gio couldn’t quite get the read on that he would have liked. He left the conversation at that. “I hope you… feel better. Sorry, again, about everything.” A pause. “Yeah,” he added, “I’ll see you later… Have a good night, man.”

Gio stood, dusted off his knees and knocked the sand from his shoes, gave the tattered net a grim once-over, and had half a mind to break the thing over his knee — but, ultimately, decided against it after remembering the last time he was whacked from the recoil of a fishing pole. 

As he walked home, suddenly more aware of each footfall with the knowledge of the man who lived beneath the boardwalk, Gio let his mind wander to his family — how would they react to seeing a man a fraction of their size? Living, breathing, thinking? Would they take it well?

Should he even tell them…?

Gio let the thought ruminate. There was no guarantee they’d even see the little guy if he never told them about them. If the stranger showed up at their doorstep looking for a conversation, Gio was certain they’d hide from unknown family members, whether they knew about them or not — though, they’d probably appreciate it if his family wasn’t chasing after them, like he had. Gio shrugged to himself. He wouldn’t tell his family, to save everyone the hassle.

Plus, he wasn’t sure he had taken the news so well himself.

Sure, stumbling across the little guy in the gully left him fascinated and even more curious by the bizarre discovery, but he thought back to the feeling of the man in his palm… they couldn’t have weighed more than a few ounces — not even a pound — and when they stood before him for their mimed conversation, Gio couldn’t help but notice how pale and thin their body was. 

Gio slowed his pace as he thought. Was the stranger hungry? Sick? He wished they had taken more food, if that was the case. He could spare it easily— though, with the way the little guy struggled to carry their cargo after the hopefully- generous-enough offering, the issue seemed not to come in the offering, but in receiving. There was no way they could have comfortably brought more food home. Maybe he could bring some more interesting things next time he planned to look for the stranger again. Or, he could wrap a few provisions in some napkins and leave them on the little man’s doorstep, once he knew where it was. He just hoped the man was eating comfortably.

The idea that they might not be bothered him. He’d never seen a person like that before, but the fact that there was one meant that there had to be more — were they all so thin? Hanging so closely to the threat of starvation that their skin paled and pulled tight to the bone? He hoped not. He hoped his little stranger was just an outlier. 

Gio realized, as he found himself a few paces from his doorstep, that he hadn’t been watching his feet while he was lost in thought about the nutrition of the little man. In a heart-wrenching panic, he glanced back at the boardwalk, dreading to find any unfortunate soul who’d wandered into his path, but thankfully found nothing in the dim reflection of moonlight off the wooden slats. He sighed, and resigned himself to his screen-paneled front door — where he made sure not to let it slam behind him, or let the hinges squeak too loudly.

As his phone’s clock turned past one-thirty in the morning, he turned its flashlight to the floor, kicked off his sneakers, and softly found his way up the stairs, around the bend of the hallway and—

“Hey.”

Gio jumped, nearly dropping his phone, but catching it before it could make a parent-waking clatter. Shining his flashlight down the hallway, Nicolette poked her head from her open bedroom door. “Nico!” he hissed, narrowing his eyes at her through the darkness, “What?! Why are you even awake?!”

“It’s not that late. Plus, I heard you sneak out at eleven-thirty and wanted to know where you headed off to without inviting me.” Nicolette leaned against her doorway, “Were you hanging out with Monty again?”

Gio shrugged — it seemed as good a coverup as any, “Yeah. They wanted to sit over by the bay.”

“Why’d you have a net?”

Gio’s flashlight slightly faltered. He could feel this conversation twist itself into an interrogation as the moments passed and the questions became more detailed. It was rare that a Clark sibling conversation could last more than a few minutes without turning into some kind of debate, and it seemed Gio couldn’t save this one’s meager life. “How did you know I had a net?”

Nicolette gestured into her room with a shrug of her shoulders, “You’re not the only one with a window.”

He grit his teeth, “We were catching crabs.”

“What’re you?” Nicolette scoffed, “Seven?”

Gio turned back down the hallway to his own bedroom door and slid his bag inside before he whispered again, his voice exasperated, “Whatever! If you wanna keep talking, come over here. We’re gonna wake up mom and dad.”

His sister huffed, but pushed herself off her doorway nonetheless. She made herself comfortable on the foot of her brother’s bed and leaned her back against the neighboring wall as Gio closed the door behind them — making sure to give the hallway a quick, cursory glance, just in case.

Gio flicked on a lamp and shook some of the long-clinging sand from the legs of his pants — Nicolette fixed him with a studious gaze. He paused. “What?”

She narrowed her eyes, “What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing’s going on with me,” Gio lied.

Nicolette ignored him. She pointed to the band-aid on his hand, “First, you come home with your hand mauled. Then, you wander off at night with a net, and won’t tell me where you went. What are you really trying to catch?”

“I told you already,” Gio shrugged, turning to rummage through his dresser for a set of pajamas, “it was a fly. And I was catching crabs with Monty.”

“Yeah, you know that’s not true,” Nicolette called his bluff, a triumphant smirk in her voice, “Plus, I can see your face getting red from here.”

She was right. Gio could feel his face getting warm, too. That always happened when he lied or started to get nervous. Usually, he’d find the chance to hide the pinkness of his cheeks before it got too obvious — his most common solution was to run away — but with his sister sitting so firmly on his only hope for safe haven, he’d have to resign himself to embarrassment. “Fine,” he rolled his eyes, “That’s not true.”

Nicolette perked up. “Okay… then tell me what is!”

Gio crossed his arms. He loved his sister, but he wasn’t going to let her strongarm him into giving up all his secrets so easily this time. Maybe he didn’t want to tell her. “Well, y’know, maybe I don’t want to tell you,” he echoed his own thoughts, “Why do you always need to know everything?”

She thunked her head against the wall, “It can’t be that serious.”

He shrugged, doing his best to keep his cheeks from turning red. He was lying in every way — not only verbally, to his sister, but to himself. It was that serious. “I don’t know. Maybe it is.”

“Ugh! Gio!” she exclaimed, her voice still a whisper, “Just tell me!”

He wanted to tell her badly. Gio took a deep breath, and he held it for a moment, trying to keep himself from spilling the entire story of the stranger right then and there — but, as he opened his mouth to exhale, the dam broke. “It’s a… little man?!” Gio could have shouted with all the pent-up bewilderment of the nights before, if not for his parents’ room just a few doors down, “Like, really little. I saw them and they bit me and then I just couldn’t… stop thinking about it! I think they live under the boardwalk.”

The room was silent. Nicolette fixed him with an incredulous stare, her eyes tinged with a softness of worry after her brother’s seemingly nonsensical story. “A little man…?”

He was pathetic. His decision to not to tell his family had been compromised at the slightest bit of pressure from his sister. But, there was no going back now. “A little man.” He implored. 

“Okay…” she started slowly, then cocked her head, “You're sure you’re not sick?”

Gio wiped a hand down his face with a tired groan as his cheeks turned even redder for a different, embarrassed reason. “Whatever,” he mumbled, and strictly pointed at the door, “Get out so I can go to sleep. If you want to actually listen, find me in the morning.”

Nicolette rolled onto her feet, resigning to let whatever tall-tale Gio was telling settle for the night. “Fine, fine.” She shrugged and pulled the door open, stepping into the hallway — but not without turning in a sharp about-face to leave her brother with a final threat, “Expect to hear from me tomorrow.”

He closed the door behind her, an unamused expression atop his still-rosy cheeks. With the quiet click of the door handle closing, he flopped heavily onto his mattress. For a moment, he stared blankly at the ceiling, an image of the little man forming in his memory to play back the motions of the night. He wanted to laugh. Sharing a granola bar with a stranger past midnight is a novelty story to begin with, but for that stranger to be a fraction of Gio’s own height was taking the story to an even further, funnier degree. 

He could feel his smile crack. It was funny. Gio quietly laughed to himself as he changed into his pajamas and began his nightly routine — silently down the hall, so as to not alert his parents, or possibly his sister again, who uncharacteristically kept her door open a crack as if to listen for any suspicious, brotherly noises. He thought of the little man in their home, wherever that may be, following a routine just the same as Gio’s as they prepared for bed. He hoped they enjoyed the peanut. And he hoped the chunk of granola bar would hold them over for a while, since it looked like a Thanksgiving turkey in their arms. 

He kicked up his bedsheets and slid beneath them, finally placing his glasses on the bedside table for the night with an exhausted sigh. Tomorrow, he’d have to find time in the night when he could convince his family to give him some space as he sat on the deck.

That was, if the little stranger even came to visit.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unmanageable 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Pete Brenner

Summary: your manager sets his eye on your (plus!reader)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The ding of a bell jolts you. You sit back, pushing your glasses up to rub your eyes as you wait. You don’t hear anything. You sigh. 

You drop your glasses back to the bridge of your nose and get up. Your neck and shoulders hurt from slouching at your screen. You cross the office and swing your door open. You swiftly turn and thump on the door next to yours. 

“Customers,” you call through, irritated not only by your co-workers' current neglect by the chaotic morning. 

You march back to your office and send a glance towards the counter. You find a man and woman watching you from the other side. You vaguely recognise them but you cant never keep the names straight. Maybe that’s why you never could sort out the tangled threads of the town gossip. 

You huff and settle back in to the eye crossing work. You really don’t get it. They have no shame. Caught and they’re still messing around. The walls aren’t thick enough to block out the giggles or Pete’s low tones. 

You yawn and lift your thermos. You peer into the empty metal cylinder and clunk it back down. Damn it. You can’t even make a fresh pot. 

You yawn at the clock in the corner of the screen and carry on. The day will be over soon and you can go home and zone out with some Balder’s Gate. You’ve been waiting to try that one. 

A knock at the door disturbs your internal monologue. You sit up and look over the monitor. Before you can get up or answer, the door opens. The person on the other side doesn’t surprise you, especially as he lets himself in. 

Pete gives a crooked grin as he stands just inside the door, “you busy?” He doesn’t wait. He steps further inside and turns slightly, clinging to the door handle, “you want this shut?” 

Before you can tell him yes, close it from the outside, he snaps it shut and faces you. He tucks his hands in his pocket and approaches your desk. He stops just on the other side. 

“So, uh, I just wanted to have a chat,” he begins, “about the bell. You know, next time someone rings it, you can just help them.” 

You blink and take off your glasses, cleaning the lenses with the cloth your keep in the case, “I’m not a teller.” 

“Yeah, sure, but you can ask them what they need,” he suggests, “you know, before you bother me and Marska.” 

“Mm, that’s not in my job description,” you put your glasses back on and zero in on the screen. 

“Right, but it takes two seconds,” he counters. 

You look at him again, your hand on the mouse. You stare dully over the top of the monitor. It’s not your responsibility to cover them while they fuel the rumour mill. You flick your eyes back down and click. 

“I am the manager,” he says. 

You nod and type rapidly, clacking loudly. He clears his throat and shifts. He moves a little closer as you ignore him for the binary on your screen. 

“So you need to listen to me,” he puts his hand on the top of the monitor, stumbling as the arm that holds it up dips with his weight. He quickly rights himself and retracts his hand. You fix the screen on the floating mount and bite the inside of your lip. 

“I heard you,” you mutter. 

“Alright, so next time you hear the bell, you can just zip up to the front,” he claps his hands. 

“No,” you say. 

“But you said--” 

“I’m not a teller,” you repeat. “That’s Marska’s job.” 

“Okay, but when she’s busy--” 

“She should be working,” you insist as you go back to typing. 

“Huh,” he sucks his teeth, “I see.” 

You narrow your eyes in an effort to keep them from rolling. You sniff and don’t stop. He wastes enough of your time with his bad behaviour. 

“I get it, you’re jealous.” 

You snort, “jealous?” 

You stop and raise your eyes once more. 

“Yeah, sure, makes sense. You sit in this office all day. Alone. And you hear us having a bit of fun and you want some of that,” he smirks and tilts his head, his floppy hair falling forward. “sweetheart, if you want in on it, you just have to say so.” 

“Ew.” 

He hesitates, “ew?” 

“Not interested,” your fingers flit over the keyboard effortlessly as the front sears into your vision. 

“Hey, look, if I knew earlier you were feeling like that--” 

“I just said I’m not interested,” you snip without tearing your eyes from the screen. “And I am definitely not--” 

He grabs the monitor again, this time pulling it away from you. You cringe in frustration and sit back, crossing your arms. You grit your teeth, ready to say something very unprofessional. 

“It was you, wasn’t it?” He asks. 

“What? It was me, what?” You squint. 

“You told her.” 

“Who?” 

“You fucking snitched on me to my wife,” his grin disappears, “I’ve been trying to figure it out all day but I shoulda known--” 

“What? I don’t even know your wife,” you scowl. “And I don’t give a crap about whatever you’re doing or whoever you’re doing it with.” 

“Bullshit,” he sneers, “it makes sense. You can’t have me so you go and tattle,” he accuses, “that’s sad. Real sad. But what’s a girl like you gonna do?” 

“I didn’t tell your wife,” you insist and reach for the monitor.  

As you grab the side of the screen, he latches onto your wrist. You try to rip your arm away but he squeezes tights. He keeps a solid grip on you as you wrench your hand helplessly. 

“You did it. I know it.” 

“I didn’t--” 

“You’re going to regret that, sweetie,” he snarls as he yanks you so hard you roll forward and your ribs hit the desk. “Don’t forget, I’m in charge here.” 

“Let me go--” 

As you pull again, he releases you and the chair tilts dangerous but the wheels save you from a topple. You rub your wrist as you grimace at him. He plants his hand on your desk and bends forward. 

“You want it so bad, baby, well, I’m gonna give it to you,” he winks.  

[echoesofmyfootsteps]

Dhr Drabble: It’s a boy

Gonna start posting some of my drabbles here, since more people are migrating. Might as well spruce the old blog up a little, yeah?

Inspired DramionePrompts on Twitter (links at end)

It’s a boy// Crookshanks POV

***

You’ve let a new person in on a rainy night, and they look like I do when I’m wet. Sullen and unhappy and deflated.

But you do that thing—directing your wand to the interloper and fluffing their pale hair into something resembling a tassled pillow I would tear to shreds.

And then he’s no longer deflated.

He. It’s a boy.

My back arches; he narrows his eyes at me as you take his cloak away.

His kind come and go. I don’t trust them. (Don’t trust anyone but you, really.)

“Stop being so surly,” you scold me half heartedly, nuzzling me as you set me down further away. But I turn to eye him. Standing sentinel in the doorway to your bedroom.

They’ve left you sad. You’ve told me all about the way they’ve used you—for your mind, your power, your fame—and yet you’ve tried to find excuses for them.

But I don’t need to. I can hate them, and my opinion always wins.

Because in the end, I’m the only one you really trust, too.

“I don’t think he likes me,” the boy watches me.

“Nonsense!” you laugh.

At least you’re not stupid, I say in his direction, lips pulled back, teeth showing.

You widen your eyes at me.

With crossed arms the boy stares a moment longer and turns back to you. Ignoring me.

But I keep watching:

Him wandering stiffly through the flat.

The muscles in his temple ticking.

The way he keeps his hands conspicuously pocketed; how his feet give you plenty of space (the shine of his shoes makes me want to throw up on them), but always point toward you.

I watch him watch you. And I see his sullenness melt with the wine and every smile you give.

I can say one thing for him: he’s careful.

And his eyes always return to yours.

As you both sit on the sofa, a feather dislodges, drifting near me in the air. I paw at it, pounce, roll, lose interest.

When I turn back, your legs are nearly entangled—the perfect landing spot.

This space is mine, I say to him once I’ve jumped between you.

He has the decency to back up. “I see.”

“Crooks, you absolute menace.” You try to shove me off the couch.

How dare, Mother. How dare. I bat at you with my paw. I choose violence.

“It’s fine,” says the boy. “I should be going.”

But I watch from the ground as he swallows, pulls his jumper cuffs back down, clears his throat, finally leans in. He tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses you on the forehead. “May I take you out tomorrow?”

Then I see it. The happy anticipation in your eyes. None of the anxiety you’ve had with the others. “All right.”

He lingers, close to leaning in a second time, until you jump up in alarm, nearly smacking into his jaw. “Your cloak!”

As soon as you turn, he allows himself a private smile.

What are you laughing about? I ask.

He evaluates me. “I’m not making fun, I swear.“ Head turned to where you disappeared, he says, “I see why you’re protective.”

I sit closer to him. She’s special. And she’s mine.

“We are of the same mind.” He lifts an eyebrow. “I hope we can be friends.”

He keeps his distance (which I appreciate more than I let on) and nods at my ambivalence.

I’m reserving judgment, I mew, just before he exits. You’re welcome!

You close the door with a sigh, and then spot me.

I’m hungry.

“Oh, Crooks.” Your body sags. “How could you.”

You scoop me up, ignoring my plea, fingernails in my neck fur, kisses near my ears. “It was going so well. Please give him a chance.” More kisses. “Did you have any thoughts?” You whisper the words into my scruff.

I purr, waiting for you to say what you want.

“He makes me hope.” I continue purring as you absently scratch my ears.

I’ll give him a chance. But if I suspect anything, I’m clawing his eyes out in his sleep.

“Fair,” you say. “Now. Some food.”

I lead the way, tail high.

We two trust each other. Implicitly, completely, exclusively.

Tonight, though, I wonder for the first time if perhaps there will be room for a third.

//end

Original drabble: