#well. i feel like i got smth done at least

[smidgen-of-hotboy]

Out in the Cold Field, pt. iv

I always finish these it seems at 2am. Huh. Now go fetch! @ananxiousgenz @ceaseless-watchers-special-girl @urjover @demonic-panini @one-joe-spoopy @waters-and-the-wilde @the-private-eye

“What do you know about Pandora?”

“Wife to Epimetheus, beautiful, sculpted by the Gods, the perfect lady, had a vase she was told to never shatter, super curious, so she unleashed all the evil in the world… I sense a lesson coming.”

“Pandora did a lot more than just bring evils into the world. Do you know why the Gods made her?”

“Punishment I presume? Everything always harkens back to punishment.”

“She was a punishment from the Gods to man. A God who made humans stole for us fire. They chained him to a rock, and every day a vulture would come and pick at his liver, and every day he would suffer immense pain and regenerate. The Gods made Pandora then to punish humanity.”

“Why would they do that? They knew the culprit, they sorted them out, so why continue and drag it out onto the rest of us? Isn't that some sort of war crime?”

“Today, yes. Back then, there was no such thing.”

“Mmm… I guess that explains a lot of things. Wasn’t there also one good thing left behind? Hope?”

“In some retellings, yes.”

“Mom’s books say there was hope. She circled and underlined it a bunch.”

“And why do you think that is?”

“If the evils were a punishment, and hope was trapped inside the jar with them… the evil things were a message. There is no way to escape, outsmart, outtrick, or outlive the Gods. There is no escape. And hope… can always be there. At the heart of it all. Hope is also a will of the Gods. Just like everything else that was in the vase.”

“Smarter than me, as bright as your mother. Well done, солнышко моё.”

Growing up, Buddy had very few friends her age. The ones she did have were either scared off by Palomine, or scared off by Buddy. It left her an awful lot of time alone. Time that she spent reading and studying. Time that she spent hanging around the countertop of Palomine’s bar, asking the other patrons to share with her one of their stories. And oftentimes he would find her and shoo her upstairs, handing out complimentary drinks as apologies. Occasionally he wouldn't find her and occasionally she got to hear stories beyond her comprehension. 

That was how she heard about the Carte Blanche. A regular of her father's came in and sat down at the bar. A younger Buddy Aurinko slid up next to them and talked about Odysseus. She knew the epic as well as the back of her hand but never wrapped her head around it quite right. The regular she sat with however was good conversation and explained it very easily. Their patience for her temper proved something wrong about Palomine.

The regular listened to her like always and laughed in her face when she said that she would have never returned home if she were Odysseus. They asked if she had ever stepped foot on a ship before and offered to show her theirs. Buddy readily agreed. 

It was a week-long trek to reach the port they had docked in. And, at the time, the Carte Blanche went by a different name. Its sails were a drab cream color and the bow had a half naked siren strapped to the front. She was hideous. Buddy fell in love instantly. 

That regular died suddenly four years later. Their wife found Buddy at the bar and slid to her a will. They wanted you to travel the seas. They hoped that someday you would find your Penelope. 

She spent months scraping barnacles off the haul and removing that damn siren from the bow. The sails were the easiest to replace. The days of cream colored past were behind them now. Navy blue sails brought her all around Hellas Basin. The end of an era. The winds were changing and the seasons were rolling into each other as Buddy finished painting her ship's new name, Carte Blanche. 

Now she was Captain of her own ship. She left Palomine to take control of her future, to reign in her own destiny, and now here she was. Captain of her own ship, of her own life, her own destiny. Finally out from her father’s reach– except she wasn’t allowed to die. And her life wasn’t hers alone to dictate anymore, not so long as Jet and M’tendere were with her… And Palomine had tried to bargain for his life with hers… And she’s going back to the bar where she left him four months ago. 

The voyage to the Cerberus Province was lonely and cold. Buddy had always dreamed of wrangling together a crew of misfits like her and Vespa to sail Hellas Basin with. She dreamed of someday retiring and growing old with Vespa. Getting to sit under their own vine and fig tree. Relaxing in the shade together, at home with the knowledge that they had put their best foot forward. That they had tried to better the lives of people like them, and given their best efforts for someone else’s chance of survival. 

On the third night aboard the Blanche, M’tendere sings Buddy and Jet part of a song. They call it their Key.

“It sounds lovely darling.” 

“Thank you,” M’tendere strums their guitar a bit more. “If there’s a song you’d like me to play, I will happily play it for you, Captain.”

“Please, call me Buddy.”

“No can do, Captain. Jet and I are guests on your ship. You invited us on board and you’re helping me smuggle fire away from Hadestown. The least I can do is show you a bit of respect.”

On the fifth night, Jet stands at the helm of the ship. One hand planted on the wheel, the other holding the lamp. The fire inside has been burning now for almost two weeks straight. Possibly longer. M’tendere never answers her when she asks how and when they stole the fire. 

Speak of the devil, they’re turning out to be pretty bad at the whole sailing thing. Jet is a natural. M’tendere… would have probably faired better taking a month to skirt around Hellas Basin avoiding the road and tracks to Hadestown than ever stepping foot on the Blanche. For now M’tendere has kept to the lower deck. Much darker and damper, they’re starting to develop a cough. Jet doesn’t seem worried, so until he is neither will Buddy. 

Buddy slides up next to Jet, two of M’tendere’s scarves wrapped around her throat. 

“Your fingers are white.” She glances at Jet and back down at her hands. “Why haven’t you said anything?”

“Why didn’t you ask me sooner? If you knew this whole time, why hold off? If you care so deeply about my health–”

“I didn’t ask because I was waiting for you to mention it. M’tendere said that you would when you were in enough pain.” He pauses, and if it were locked into other season and Buddy any other person, she might have turned a beautiful shade of pink. “I care for your health, Buddy, because you are alone. You are walking a dark path, one that I have beared witness others walk before, and it never ends the way you or they hope.”

She scoffs, “Oh don’t be ridiculous, I’m not like other people. You don’t know the first thing about me. We hardly know each other.”

Jet nods passing off the lamp to her. Buddy accepts it without a second thought and for a brief moment, she thinks she might have caught hint of a smile. 

“You’re right, we don’t.” 

A long stretch of silence wraps around them. Eventually the pain in Buddy’s joints makes itself known. She bids Jet a fair night and descends to the lower deck to join M’tendere. They greet her with a cough and refuse to accept the lamp. For the rest of the night Buddy keeps it close to warm her hands.

On the ninth day, the seas are rough tossing the Blanche around. Buddy steers, while Jet stands on the bow keeping an eye out for rocks. 

That night it’s calm enough that M’tendere joins them above deck. They play a few songs intermittently asking Buddy questions in between. It strikes her at some point that while it’s a game to her, it’s a dance to them. 

“How long have you been sailing?”

“Only a few years. How long have you and Jet been traveling together?”

“We travel separately most of the time. You got found at a very lucky and rare time when we’re stuck together.”

“M’tendere asked me to help them fulfill their dream.”

“Oh really? And what is your dream?”

M’tendere sighs and leans back against the mast. Their head tilts at an awkward angle searching for constellations in the sky. “I wanted to help people. Balance out all the bad things that I’ve done in the name of Hades.” 

So you stole fire goes unsaid. Just like Promethus.

“What is your dream, Buddy?” She looks up at Jet, who again has claimed his spot at the helm. Her damn ship that half the time she doesn’t even get to man anymore. 

“My dream?” She chuckles, “I wanted to help people. Give back, uplift, and empower. But that time has come to pass now. What’s done is done they say… What is your dream, Jet? Don’t suppose it’s also to help people?”

“How disappointed would you be if I said it is?” This time, she does get to watch him smile. It’s bright and glorious and could fill up a whole room. And when Buddy laughs, M’tendere does too. They break into a coughing fit that lasts longer than usual. Again, Jet does not seem concerned. Despite this, Buddy tries not to either. M’tendere plays a final song that night, Their Key, and heads down to rest. 

In the morning there is a thick sheet of ice that formed on the bow. Buddy takes a crack at it using part of an old rusted anchor. She instructed Jet to search for an ice pick in the cargo hold. M’tendere hasn’t moved a muscle. It’s fine. Just four more days. They can rest. 

Jet emerges from the belly of the beast. Buddy steps aside to allow him to take over. 

The voyage to the Cerberus Province was lonely and cold. Had she not died somehow without Jet or M’tendere’s aid, the return trip back would’ve been no different. It would have been harder. It would have been colder. She might have actually died. 

“Jet,” he stops mid-swing to look back at her, ��ask me again. Ask me again why I want to die.”

He turns towards her, rolling his shoulders back, standing at full height. Grimly, she is reminded of depictions of psychopomps in her mother’s old texts. Shadowy figures that slip on billowing robes. Some with animal heads. Others so handsome and flawless that they had to be immortal. But when she blinks the winter sun bathes Jet in cool light. Chasing away the shadows on Jet’s face, bringing into focus his heavy leather winter coat. Scars his hands remind her that he bleeds too. 

“Buddy Aurinko.” She takes a deep breath. The voyage was to the Cerberus Province was cold and lonely… “What happened to make you want to die?” 

They say it took Odysseus 20 years to journey home. 10 years fighting the Trojans, and 10 years lost at sea. When he returned home, he returned in disguise to win his wife’s hand in marriage and scare off the competition. He accomplished a little more than that, but he had his wife. He got back his Penelope.

The voyage to the Cerberus Province was cold because it shouldn’t have been made alone. Odysseus fought and won the war. Odysseus got to go home to be with the one he loved. Buddy Aurinko, wouldn’t even get so much as a final goodbye.

“I lost someone. I lost– I lost Vespa. I lost her and my dream and I can’t bear a life without her.” She wipes the stinging tears from here eyes. She turns her back and walks away. Not once did she let Palomine see her cry, Vespa only saw her cry in joy, and she wasn’t about to start sobbing a second time in front of Jet. 

Buddy plants herself at the helm and watches Jet resume chipping away at the ice. Just four more days. Just four more days.

That night she sits with M’tendere on the lowest deck. The scarves they loaned to her are rolled up tight to support their neck. They wheeze with each breath. In the relative quiet, she tries to think back to what Vespa would do. What Vespa would say. 

“Goddess hands, guide me.” She mutters under her breath as she clasps M’tendere’s thin wrist to count their heartbeat. There has to be something. Anything. If Vespa were here she would know what to do and how to treat them. She would probably say something like… like…

Vespa’s voice is slipping from her mind. Goddess forgive her. What would go next? Her face? Her touch? Rough lips on soft skin. Green has never been her color but it always belonged to Vespa.  

"Captain," Buddy does not flinch as M'tendere's body seizes into a coughing fit. The end is near. Death approaches. She has always hated goodbyes, and loathed letting go. How could she when all the people she lets herself love die in the end? She refuses to believe it, wants to object like Jet did. You can’t be dying yet, we have four more days until we dock.

She swallows a lump forming in her throat and nods. "Keep your strength. I'll fetch Jet." She pats M'tendere's cheek and heads up to the main deck of the Carte Blanche. They have at most four more days until they can dock at the harbor. And another week maybe before a doctor can come. Just four more. Four more and one week… They don't have a week though. Or four more days.

"Jet," Buddy finds him again chipping ice off the bow. He looks up. It's hard to read his expression buried underneath all his layers. "It's M’tendere." He nods and goes to her office to retrieve M'tendere's precious instrument.

When he makes it to their bedside, Buddy has them propped up by every linen blanket and wool stuffed pillow they have on board. Jet offers the instrument but they shake their head. M'tendere has never refused to play them a song. They promised they always would. I’ll happily play it for you, Captain. Nothing would make her happier now than to hear their strong voice. 

"I have one last one for the road." They suppress a cough and wipe blood from the corner of their mouth. "My Key."

Once upon a time M'tendere's voice used to lull Buddy to sleep. The voice of an angel. And now, wrecked by disease, it's little more than a frogs croak. She surprises herself still able to recall what that sounds like.

M'tendere sings and hums a quiet peaceful tune. Tears roll freely down Buddy's cheeks. She never allowed her father to see her cry. She would move mountains though to allow M'tendere to see her cry another day.

A second voice picks up the tune. Quieter, deeper. She glances at Jet and finds him plucking the strings of M'tendere's guitar. Finding the right chords. They point and smile when he gets it right.

Four days later, Jet and Buddy Aurinko dock on the other side of Hellas Basin. A snowstorm picks up keeping them cooped on board the Carte Blanche for another week with a decaying corpse. Neither of them speaks much, not even a whistled tune. 

The town they docked in is on the outskirts of Hyperion City. A couple of days worth of travel through the snow and they’ll reach Palomine’s bar soon enough. For now, Buddy takes down her navy blue sails and sells them for a quick cred. With that money, she rents them a small room on land to stay in. The whole time she keeps M’tendere’s little fire clutched close to her chest. Humming their key.

[mirrortouchedsea]

(CW for Suicidal Ideation)

Hinata’s breath was heavy as he landed the final move of their act. The tinny music playing from their speakers went quiet and the audience clapped politely. It was always the same song and dance as the crowd moved on with their day. A few of them tossed some yen their way but otherwise it was time for them to regroup for their next performance. Yuta knelt down by the hat with some coins and bills sticking out of it, counting their earnings thus far. 

“Hey aniki! We might be able to eat well tonight! There’s like 3,000 yen in here!” Yuta exclaimed. The idea of a filling dinner made Hinata’s mouth water. Oh what he wouldn’t do for even warm noodles not from a cup. 

Hinata turned to grab the iPod from its place on the speaker, choosing the next song to play. He put the phone back and turned the volume up a little more to play over the evening rush. The music started and he and Yuta moved in unison around their little stage, taking in the crowd. There were some regulars that Hinata recognized, the businesswoman who was perpetually tired but always stopped for their performances and a few kids who looked up at them in awe as their parents were trying to usher them away. There were always new faces too, of course people traveled across the country all the time or took new trains or moved cities, but there was something different about the boy with the bright red hair at the back of the crowd. His sky blue eyes pierced straight through to Hinata’s heart and made him stumble when their gaze connected with his own. 

“Hey, aniki focus! We’re almost done, don't fail on me now!” Yuta whispered, carefully shielding Hinata from the crowd as he regained his footing. Yuta was always so quick thinking. Hinata got back to his position and finished up the routine, eyes looking for that boy he had spotted earlier. He half hoped the boy would come talk to them afterwards while they were packing up for the evening, but when he finally saw that shock of red hair, it was moving away with the rest of the crowd. 

Hinata sighed, disappointed. Maybe that boy would come back someday. There was something about him that drew Hinata in. 

Someone bumped his shoulder, drawing him from his thoughts. “Hey, aniki, are you alright? You seem out of it today.” Yuta’s hand rested on his shoulder and Hinata couldn’t help but smile. Wasn’t it supposed to be the other way around, the older brother checking in on the younger one? 

“Hey hey everything’s fine Yuta-kun, don’t worry about me. I was just thinking about that delicious dinner you’re treating us too~” He playfully pushed back on Yuta, the red haired blue eyed boy all but forgotten now. 

“Hey! It’s technically our money so I’m not treating you to anything!” Yuta scowled but the smile in his voice was obvious to Hinata. 

“Hehe, then dinner’s on me! Say ‘thank you aniki!’” 

--- 

It was a week before Hinata saw the red headed boy in their audience again. He had all but slipped his mind, but those striking blue eyes were impossible to forget. Yuta was introducing their next performance which allowed Hinata to take a better look at the older boy who had made his way to the middle of the audience. He was tall and what Hinata could see of his outfit seemed ill-fitting at best, along with a headband holding his hair away from his eyes. 

Hinata scrambled to his position as the music queued up and let his instincts take over. Every so often he found himself glancing at the red haired boy, trying to see what he thought of their performance, but his face revealed nothing. 

Why was he so focused on this one boy? It’s not like they didn’t have strangers who watched them sometimes, and none of them had caught Hinata’s attention quite like this boy. He really couldn’t be much older than Hinata, maybe 17 at the oldest. Was he an older brother too? The boy’s eyes made contact with Hinata’s and it took everything in him to not look away. 

Once again however, Yuta snapped him out of whatever trance he had been in and everything was forgotten. 

“Are you really okay aniki? You’ve been out of it a lot recently…” Oh how it pained Hinata to see the concern on Yuta’s face. Nothing was even really wrong per se, but Hinata was distracted nonetheless. 

“I’m fine, Yuta-kun. Geez, can’t your older brother have some peace?” His mouth ran faster than his brain and he immediately regretted it. Yuta’s face flipped through several emotions; hurt, confusion, exhaustion. It wasn’t like him to hide things from his brother, so why was he doing it now? “Whatever, let’s get some dinner. My treat~” 

“It’s our money!” 

--- 

The boy continued to make appearances at the twins’ performances on the street, becoming something of a regular but disappearing before Hinata could flag him down. Hinata wasn’t even sure what compelled him to want to talk to the older boy, but he wanted to say something. He had even noticed that the boy seemed happier and his clothes fit a little better, not like they were just the first thing he grabbed out of a donation pile. 

Finally, after almost a month of trying to say something to the boy, Hinata saw him walk up to their hat on the ground and drop a few coins into it. 

“Thank you!” He said, walking up to the boy. “Hope you enjoyed the performance!” 

The boy froze as if he wasn’t expecting to be greeted like that. There was a slight flush to his face. “I-it’s nothing, don’t worry about it. You uh…you were great?” The boy seemed unsure of how to reply, though Hinata was happy with the compliment nonetheless. Maybe… 

“What brings you here? I mean--agh, sorry! I just mean…I noticed you don’t have a regular schedule?” The words were practically falling out of his mouth and Hinata wasn’t really sure what they were doing. “Like you show up a few days in a row but then go three weeks without stopping by at all!” He was just digging a bigger grave for himself! Great! 

“Ah uhm…I’m not from around here.” The boy scratched at the back of his neck. Maybe Hinata should back off. 

“O-oh, yeah of course. Duh. Are you visiting family or something?” 

“Not quite. I really should get going though. See you…later?” 

“Yeah, see you later.” 

“Hey Aniki, are you coming or not? The food’s gonna get cold!” 

“Coming!” 

---

It was almost a month before the boy appeared again. In the time between, Hinata had come up with a million different ideas for what his life was like. Was he a delinquent who skipped school to hang out on the street with gangs (how scary! But he looked strong enough to fit in)? Or was he a runaway from a city far away, somewhere Hinata only dreamed of visiting like Okinawa? Maybe he had a bad relationship with his dad and ran away, a thought that Hinata hated to admit had crossed his mind more than once. Or maybe he just passed through the city on the way to somewhere else. That seemed to be the most likely option, especially if he couldn’t come very often. 

When the boy did finally show up again, Hinata had to hold himself back from practically jumping him after the performance. Something looked…different about him though. His eyes seemed more tired? Like he hadn’t been sleeping well. Hinata thought of a fight he had with his dad a few weeks ago that made it hard for him to sleep and thought maybe this boy was the same as him in that regard. 

Hinata decided to wave him down after the performance, hat in hand (they had done pretty well! It felt heavier than normal and even without counting everything, they’d probably have enough for breakfast too). 

“Hey! You look tired, are you--did you want to get something to eat?” Please say yes please say yes please say yes--

The boy’s mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. Did Hinata mess up? Oh he overstepped and now there really wasn’t any chance of getting to know him. Why was he so interested in talking to the boy anyway? Hinata had been asking himself that for a while now and he still had no answer. 

“I…I can’t. I need to go.” The boy turned and ran off before Hinata could ask more. He just kept messing up, didn’t he? Maybe he really was just a burden to Yuta and their dad and the restaurant owner. He shouldn’t have been born and Yuta would’ve been better off--

“Aniki! Sheesh, get your head out of the clouds. How much did we make?” Yuta grabbed the hat out of Hinata’s hand and quickly counted out the coins and bills. “Woah! We could eat a whole five course meal with this…” 

“Think with your head a little Yuta-kun. We’ve got breakfast paid for if we don’t blow it all tonight!” 

Yuta nodded before handing the hat back to Hinata. “So, my pick tonight?” 

--- 

Hinata signed the note, trying his best to keep the tears from dripping on it and smudging the ink. After his blunder with the red haired boy, he hadn’t shown up to their performances for over two months. Hinata was certain that he had messed up and was too forward. He didn’t even know the kid’s name! Why did he think the two of them could ever be friends? 

And on top of all of that, Yuta had become more and more distant from Hinata, as if Hinata just existing was dragging him back from his full potential. Yuta would have been better off as an only child and maybe Hinata deserved this life. Thirteen years living with their father, who had treated them as nothing but monsters, blaming them for their mother’s death and everything bad that had happened since, Hinata had resolved to run away. He’d make his way to the mountains and maybe he’d find someone willing to help him or maybe he’d slip into an endless sleep. 

Dear Yuta-kun, the letter had started. I’m sorry that I’m leaving like this, but I know that I’m just a burden to you. I’m sorry for that. I wish I had more to say but I just want you to be happy and maybe father will treat you better without me. I love you. 

The other letter, already folded and placed on the table, was much shorter, addressed to his father. 

Dear Father, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better son. Please don’t take this out on Yuta-kun, it was my decision. 

The less words he spent on that man, the better. Hinata folded Yuta’s note and placed it on top before quietly exiting through the front door. 

---

Everything was cold. Hinata slumped against a tree, head between his knees in a last ditch effort to keep warm. Sleep should come soon and he could painlessly move on, at least that’s what he hoped. He barely registered someone approaching him, but didn’t look up. 

“Hey.” The voice was vaguely familiar, but where did he remember it from? A warm hand shook at Hinata’s shoulder. 

“‘M fine.” The words were barely a whisper. The other voice grunted before walking away. It was another minute before Hinata felt something drape around his shoulders and a cup shoved in his hand. Whatever was in it was steaming, warming his fingers. 

“Drink.” The voice said. And he did, the tea was very, very bitter. That voice… 

Hinata looked up, meeting a pair of bright, sky blue eyes. That’s where he recognized the voice from. Did he…live? In the mountains? The boy seemed to recognize him too. He was wearing a headband and what looked like very warm clothes that Hinata wished he had. Hinata finished the tea, trying not to focus on the flavor. It helped at least, in warming him up a bit. 

“Why are you here?” The boy finally spoke again. It sounded like he was unsure if he should be mad or concerned, or both, but he offered Hinata another cup of tea, which he accepted if only to warm his fingers up. He pulled the blanket closer around his body. 

“I…ran away.” Hinata looked downward, as if admitting this out loud was a cardinal sin. The boy gestured for him to continue. “I guess I just…I was dragging my brother down. I’m not really talented at anything like he is and I’m the reason our dad sees us as monsters. He shouldn’t have to deal with a brother like me.” Hinata wasn’t really sure why he was spilling this so easily. The boy was a good listener though, hanging on every word Hinata spoke. Was he shaking? He’d never admitted this out loud before and it felt oddly freeing to say it to someone. 

He waited for a response, anything to chase away the uncomfortable silence Hinata had created with his confession. He really fucked up, didn’t he. He should have just kept that to himself like he always did instead of burdening a stranger like this! 

“I…” The boy started, barely audible above Hinata’s racing heartbeat. “I’m glad you’re alive.” He sounded unsure of his words. Was he just trying to be nice? Of course he was, how else do you respond to a kid telling you something like this? 

“You don’t have to pretend.” 

“I’m not. When I saw you singing and dancing…I think I realized something--” The boy cut himself off, the suddenness of it making Hinata look up. A moment later he heard his brother calling out from the woods behind him. 

“Aniki! There you are!” Yuta tackled him to the ground, squeezing Hinata like he might just blow away in the wind if they weren’t careful. “You scared me! I can’t believe you’d do something like that!” 

Tears pricked at Hinata’s eyes again. “I’m sorry, Yuta-kun. I’m really sorry.” He buried his face in Yuta’s jacket. His nose started to run, from the cold or the tears he couldn’t tell. 

“You aren’t a burden to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you around Aniki!” Yuta pulled back, hands gripping Hinata’s shoulders. “Promise you won’t do something that stupid again.” 

Hinata wiped the tears from his eyes, sparing a glance where the boy had been. It was as if he had never been there at all and Hinata had just hallucinated the whole interaction. He looked back at his twin brother. “I promise.” 

“Now let's get you home and warmed up. Where’d you get this blanket anyway? It doesn’t look like one of ours.” 

“I…” The boy had been real, and he told Hinata he was glad he was alive (even if his explanation was cut short by Hinata’s brother rushing in). “I guess I just found it. There must be people living nearby or something.” 

--- 

The chatter of the night club died down for the night as everyone was getting ready to go home. Hinata’s feet were sore from running around, but it was satisfying to be back in a restaurant like this. It reminded him of his childhood working for the Chinese restaurant with Yuta. 

Rinne, the leader of Crazy:B who had wanted to get closer to Hinata, and by extension 2wink, slid a drink down the bar. It looked like a horrible mix of syrups and club soda, but one sip was all it took for Hinata to drink it all down. 

“Great job tonight Hina! You’re a real natural at this stuff.” Rinne was washing the other glasses behind the bar now as Hinata finished the rest of his soda. 

“Yuta-kun and I used to work in a restaurant so it comes pretty naturally to us!” 

“That so?” 

“Mhm!” Hinata slid the empty glass back to Rinne, who quickly dumped the ice and washed it before tossing the towel over his shoulder. The entire week they’d been working the club together, there had been something bugging Hinata at the back of his mind. “Hey, Rinne-senpai…did you ever watch our shows?” 

“Huh? ‘Course I have, vice prez wants us to work together so I’ve seen a few of ‘em.” 

“That’s not what I mean. I mean like…back when Yuta-kun and I did street performances.” 

Rinne paused for a moment. “Why’re you askin’?” 

“Oh, it’s nothing. You just reminded me of someone who used to watch them.” 

“Well I’m sure whoever it was is proud to see you singin’ and dancin’ on stage.” Rinne had come around the bar and stood next to Hinata, ruffling his hair. “Let’s get goin’ or I’m never gonna hear the end of it from Niki-kun.” 

[wifeguycyclonus]

actually dying of the light is funny bc Overlord shows up to ruin Tarn’s day and then fucks off again without actually doing much bc he’s a bitch like that

[baekuras]

just thought about how annoying the combo of

"if you work hard you can even buy your own house" to "lmao in THIS economy?" in combo with "oh yeah tech is the future and here are all the ways on why" to "the internet is eating itself+what jobs???" is

you'd think those false promises would stop but nope

[butt-puncher]

I wish that I was more

[eunhos]

.

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Gonna throw up If I can't talk about them-

Bunch of Aiden analysis under the cut because he's just SO OBSESSED CODED AND NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT 😭 (I will be very weird about it)

The way it's so doomed from the start. He's already so fascinated by her. It's in the little jump he does when she sits in front of him, like a secret they're both in on, like her sitting in front of him is some obscure way of her inviting him into a conversation.

Why is he like this (not positive but not negative either)

He has such a cocktail of personality traits and, most certainly, mental disorders, and his own history that makes it so, when he's in love, that it WILL blow up in his face.

The fact that he's been homeschooled for his entire life- he has no idea. HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW. He doesnt realize that its not normal. of course he doesn't :( His parents obviously leave him alone for long stretches of time and he doesn't seem to mind this. He hasn't had the chance to develop his social skills at all-

It's why he's so, let's be real, creepy. Ash makes it very clear she's not interested and he just keeps worming his way into her life. He plots so that she'll go on the field trip, he follows her around, he goes to her fucking house on the first day. LIKE, HELLO? RED FLAG?

He's having evil thoughts here I swear 💀

And already so quickly after meeting her he makes Ash his priority. He asks to sit next to her, he engages and makes an effort to talk to her. Tries to joke around with her. Gives her a nickname. Touches her. He's so touchy.

And defends her!!! When Tyler gets pissed at Ash, he honestly goes off on him even tho he KNOWS Ash can defend herself- and he's so...dark about it. There's a threat hidden behind his words. He's MAD here, right? Tell me I'm not crazy, please-

He also very clearly has violence on the forefront of his mind 💀 He's the first one to actively attack the phantoms; not to defend himself, not to defend somebody else (well, he pulls Ash out of the way), but for fun. And he's disappointed when they don't scream. He's sadistic, he likes causing pain, it's something he relishes in.

I mean look at how he smiles!!! None of the other kids have such an...active ENJOYMENT in fighting the phantoms, but for Aiden, it's almost like he finds relief in it, some way to vent out his frustrations. He's eager for a fight, for a thrill.

That's how Aiden sustains himself, he pretty much operates under "I'm here for a good time, not a long time." Everything he does gives him a boost of adrenaline, no matter the consequences. He got into a fight? Eh, who cares about all the bruises, at least it got his blood rushing. Broke a bone while doing parkour or smth? Whatever, the way his stomach dropped when he was falling as totally worth it.

It's a very dangerous mentality to live with, obviously. He's an adrenaline junkie. He's an addict. More than anything else, Aiden wants something that makes him feel alive.

And what makes you feel more alive than love?

Like not to minimise or anything but he's known her for like. 2-3 months- and he's already SO scared of losing her. Like I just don't think he would have had this type of reaction with anybody else besides Ben. He would have absolutely lost his shit if Ash 'died'.

He's a straight up love junkie. He's obsessive. Nothing beats the high love can give you. It overrules everything else. If Ash (or whoever he's interested in) feels bad because of smth, he's done with it.

He LIKED dying. He LIKED the adrenaline rush. But he won't do it again. Not because he had some realization that he didn't want to die, that he still wanted to live and do things, but because Ash was upset. Because this, this rush of care from her part, the way she was so scared of him dying that she was shaking, nothing could fill the hole in his heart better than that. And now that he has a taste for it, he won't let go easy. He will keep on living- if it means Ash will be by his side.

Which is a very dangerous position to put her in. Ash already feels responsible for her friends, and she doesn't even know that Aiden has "put" his life in her hands, not that it's her responsibility, because it isn't, but she will certainly feel responsible if Aiden does something FOR her.

Like He's so fucking obsessed and he doesn't even realize it- like look at how he sees her 😭 THE HEAVENLY GLOOOOOOW, LIKE SHES AN ANGEL AND HE THINKS SHE CAN SAVE HIM. BABY SHE CANT, YOU HAVE TO SAVE YOURSELF.

He could spiral so fucking bad. He could do some absolutely heinous things. Because he just doesn't know. He doesn't know how to love truly, yet. For him love really is that rush of adrenaline, the knife carving out his heart, he could be putty in her hands, or her executioner. This love that can be so obsessive, that he NEEDS it to function, like its water, like its the air he breathes. Its a compulsion, a fixation, a longing that burrows into your very soul. Ash doesn't even know what she's getting herself into-

Godddddd, it makes me so sick/ pos, it's SO FUCKING INTERESTINGGGGGG. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

I literally cannot function around this drawing 🫠

The. The hand. That way he's grabbing her. He's pulling her back. Towards HIM. like "this is mine. And I'm not sharing." And that little fucking look in his eyes, he just looks SO fucking pleased with himself. And Ash looks so...resigned. they're so doomed-coded, i love them so bad.

I don't know how I was supposed to NOT make a killer au, when he's just...like that around her.

Love is a wonderful thing. But love is also cruel, it is vicious, it is possessive and obsessive, and it will leave carnage in its wake.

Romantic love is an obsession. It possesses you. You lose your sense of self. You cannot stop thinking about another human being. -Helen Fisher

[k0juki]

Can you do something with a reader who represents their country at Eurovision and gets along well with Joost and everyone ships them? Maybe smth like Joost comforts us before the performance and during it we can see that he is proud of us and it’s just fluff

YESS!!🙏🙏

Just be yourself

Joost Klein x fem!reader

English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.

A/n: it's so short I'm so sorry! I didn't have much of inspiration...

Wc: 429

---

This was it, the moment that you were waiting for, but you were nervous about it, how could you not be nervous. At least you had Joost here with you. Nothing else mattered.

But what if you mistake some words? Everyone will start to say things like you can't speak, sing or worse, what if they start to laugh? Luckily Joost saw you and your shaking form of nerves.

He approached you with a reassuring smile and said, "You've got this Y/n," his voice filled with confidence. "Just be yourself, and let your talent shine." He added, kneeling in front of you and took your hands in his, squeezed them for comfort.

His words were like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves, and you nodded, grateful for his encouragement. "Thank you Joost."

With a deep breath, you stood up and stepped onto the stage, the spotlight shining down as you prepared to share your music with the world.

As the music swelled and you began to sing, you felt a wave of emotion wash over you.

The crowd's cheers filled the air, but it was Joost's proud gaze that truly warmed your heart.

With every note, you poured your soul into the performance, pouring out your passion and love for music.

As the final notes faded away, the audience erupted into applause, and you couldn't help but grin from ear to ear. It was a dream come true.

Stepping offstage, you were greeted by Joost's beaming smile and enthusiastic hugs from the rest of the group. "You were amazing!" Joost exclaimed, pulling you into a tight embrace. "I knew you could do it."

The rest of the night was a whirlwind of celebrations and camaraderie, but it was the moments shared with Joost that meant the most. With his unwavering support, you felt like you could conquer the world.

"Thank you again Joost, it really means a lot to me..." you spoke quietly and looked into his ocean blue eyes, he really is beautiful.

"Don't thank me, you would have done the same." He said with a smile that reached his eyes.

You pulled him in another hug and just stood here. He is something else. Kind, friendly and has never ending support for everyone.

As the night drew to a close, you and Joost were surrounded by old and new friends, you couldn't help but feel grateful for everything that this day gave you.

And as the crowd whispered and winked, it was clear that the chemistry between you and Joost hadn't gone unnoticed. Everyone saw these stolen glances.

---

Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!

[woncatz]

'all night'

summary: during le sserafim's appearance at the nba game, you couldn't help but to admire her wearing that jersey, and after voicing out your thoughts, she decides to help you out.

tags: this is literally just smut, reader calls yunjin mommy, rough fingering, clit rubbing, reader wears a skirt, begging, orgasm denial, implied multiple rounds, semi-public sex.

a/n: im so sorry i had to make smth for THIS yunjin i really had to, so this is my first smut dont judge, also this isnt proofread forgive me‼️

"really couldn't wait after the game." pressing you against the bathroom door, keeping up the fast pace of her fingers inside you.

"m-m'sorry" biting your lips trying to hold your moans back, which now became impossible as her thumb found it's way on your clit.

"such a whore, you want us to get caught?"

trying to form a sentence has never been this hard for you, not with the way her fingertips are hitting that sweet spot inside you, and rightfully so, you slowly feel yourself losing composure as your legs begin to tremble.

"y-you're so p-pretty jen." focusing your lust-blown eyes on hers, even with the huge instinct to close them from all he pleasure you're receiving.

like a light bulb turned on inside her head; "oh, i get it now, you got horny because of this outfit, huh?"

nodding was really the only thing you could do at the moment as her skillful fingers never ceased with it's ministrations.

"y'wanna cum baby?" now rubbing your clit faster than ever.

"yes! yes, please let me cum!" desperate to have that release, you hold onto her wrist in hopes that she doesn't stop.

"well, i guess you're gonna have to beg." slowing down, she removes her thumb over your clit and wraps it around your throat, though her other hand never stopped inside you.

"oh my god, jen please! please let me cum, i'll do anything!" attempting to ride her fingers, she removes them and places it against your hip.

"c'mon baby, you can do better than that." taunting you, if you weren't in this situation, you would've fought back, but you really couldn't afford to as your cunt is in desperate need of attention.

"please, let me cum. i'll do anything!" the desperation in your voice undeniably made yunjin wetter than she was before.

stopping herself from bending you over the sink and fucking your brains out, she leans over your ear.

"oh c'mon, i that all you've got?"

with your clit throbbing, and your hole dripping wet, you struggle to think.

"p-please mommy, let me cum, i'll be a good girl."

eyes widening, yunjin's pupils shrink as she processes what you said to her, wasting no time and plunging her fingers inside you, adding a fourth.

"yeah? you wanna be mommy's good girl and cum?"

she's relentless with the speed and proceeds to roughly thumb your clit, successfully pushing you dangerously closer to your edge.

a pornographic moan escapes your lips as the familiar feeling of climax approaches fast.

"gonna cum! gonna!"

and it finally snapped, your fluids coated yunjin's fingers beautifully as she spreads it over your sensitive cunt.

kneeling down to get your panty from where she absentmindedly threw it, she stops you.

"what do you think you're doing?"

you were least to say, confused. did she want you to go out there with no underwear?

"i'm fixing up..?"

she lifts you up by your thighs and places you on the sink, the cold metal feeling so good on your heated body.

"oh, but we're not done."

[angel-taser]

Praising Sukuna and he flips out | Sukuna x Cocky!Reader | Barely suggestive

Synopsis: You tease Sukuna ONCE and now he’s all flustered, so when you call him out on it he decides he wants to get you back!

A/N: I’ve been thinking about this scenario for DAYS-!!! DAYS I SAY! It’s probably very ooc but the idea is fun so enjoy! Sorry if it isnt the best, I was rushed and just writing whatever I thought of!

Content Warnings: Reader is cocky, Sukuna is cockier but gets put in his place, Flustered Sukuna, female reader, appearance of true form!sukuna with non canon physics at the end, Implied smut at the end, or at least smth spicy! Ooc sukuna probably

Word Count: 902

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~••••~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sukuna enjoyed toying around with curses before exorcising them. It gave his sadistic mind something to do when he didn’t feel like massacring the city. Yuji had switched with him because the brat didn’t have the energy to fend off the last few curses before help arrived, Sukuna wasn’t mad about that though.

He laughed as another curse died from his hands. “Oh this feeling is exhilarating! One more to go,” he said aloud, a grin pasted on his tattooed face.

“Oh really? Well thanks for doing the dirty work,” a voice said from behind him.

He whipped around confused as to who dared to interrupt him. It was you. You were a sorcerer at Jujutsu High, one of the assistant teachers. He heard Yuji talk about you a few times, about how good you were as a sorcerer. Sukuna couldn’t help but be intrigued by your presence.

“Eh?! What the hell woman I have it under control!” He snapped at her as she approached him, her smile unwavering.

“And you did such a good job,” she cooed. “But mama’s got it from here,” she added, patting Sukuna’s cheek before unsheathing her katana which was embedded with cursed energy.

Sukuna froze, his heart started pounding. What the hell? Why did he like that? His eyes narrowed at her as she watched her beat the final special grade curse that was left in the building. His face felt hot, he was sure it was almost as red as his eyes.

She looked back at Sukuna once she was done and couldn’t help but laugh. “What? Something the matter?” She teased, walking over to him. He stepped back.

“Back off woman! I don’t know what the hell happened but don’t let it get to your head!” He growled, turning away and walking down the hallway.

Y/N chuckled. “Well, the King of Curses has a praise kink? That’s interesting…” she mumbled to herself.

~~**~~

The next day, Y/N set out to find Yuji. Maybe he knew something about this.

“Hey Yuji! C’mere for a second!” She called out to him as he was training, a bright smile on her face.

He looked at her confused and jogged over to her. “Hey! What’s up?” He asked her, a smile on his face to match hers.

“Is Sukuna upset up there?” She asked, poking his forehead with a grin. Yuji’s eyes widened at the question.

“What?”

“You know, is he being all mopey? Last time I saw him he was practically a puddle on the floor, an angry one,” she said, standing up straight again.

Yuji scratched his chin thinking. “Actually, yeah he has, ever since I let him out again he’s been all grumbly, do you know why?” He asked her.

Y/N smiled wider. “No way! I was right!” She laughed, a hand on her head in disbelief. “I think the King of Curses doesn’t know how to handle a woman complimenting him,” she cooed with a chuckle.

Yuji’s eyes widened. “No way! Are you serious?!” He said in disbelief.

Y/N nodded. “Yep! I witnessed it first hand,” she sighed with a smile.

A mouth popped up on Yuji’s cheek. “You bitch! You didn’t do anything it just caught me off guard! Don’t let it get to your head!” Sukuna’s voice roared. This only made Y/N laugh.

“So defensive, I guess he really doesn’t like finding a weakness huh?” She hummed, poking Yuji’s cheek. Yuji covered his mouth holding back a chuckle.

Sukuna growled and chomped his teeth at Y/N. “You just wait, I’ll get you back!” He snapped at her.

“Get me back huh? We’ll see about that, have fun training Itadori!” She said waving at Yuji as she left.

“I’m gonna get her back,” Sukuna mumbled before retreating back into Yuji’s mind.

~~**~~

That night, Y/N was in her pajamas, laying in her bed scrolling through her phone. The events from today lingered in her mind. What did he mean he was gonna get her back?

There was a knock at the door. She groaned and got up, who the hell is awake at this hour?

She walked over and opened the door, her eyes widened when she was met with a tattooed chest, her eyes went up to meet the face of the man in her doorway. It was Sukuna, he has a mask that looked like it was made of wood on the one side of his face, a shit eating grin plastered on his lips. He had an extra set of arms under his shoulders.

“What the hell-“ Y/N mumbled. “Where’s Yuji-“

“The brat is fine, this is my OWN body,” he chuckled, forcing himself into her room. “You know…your little comment has been wracking my brain,” he hummed looking around her room.

Y/N watched as the large man looked around. “Really?” She gulped, her voice strained with weariness.

Sukuna nodded. “Oh yeah~ it got me thinking~”

“A-about what?” Y/N stuttered.

His ruby eyes met hers. “What kind of things make you do that?” He hummed, tilting his head.

Her eyes widened, taking a step back in shock. “Excuse me?” She coughed out. Two large hands grabbed her waist.

“What makes you tick~? We’re gonna find out~” he snickered, his two other hands finding the curves of her body.

He observed how she writhed and blushed under his touch, small whimpers leaving your mouth as she did.

“This is gonna be fun, pet~”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~••••~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: I AM TOO SCARED TO WRITE SMUT BUT MAYBE IN THE FUTURE! But yeah I hope you enjoyyyyed~! Might rewrite it when I have more time and confidence lmao. Til next time!

Bye Pookies!💕

[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

[itsjaywalkers]

a lil smth under the cut for u guys <3

part 2 part 3

"Potter, if you dare to step any closer, I swear I will knock your teeth out."

Potter halts his advancement as soon as the sentence is out of his mouth, but Regulus remains tense, alert, shoulders stiff and hands itching to curl into fists. Maybe it's because he knows Potter more than enough after all these weeks of watching his matches and interviewing him after them. Weeks of listening to him brag, and taunt, and flirt shamelessly, despite Regulus always being set on retaining some sense of professionalism.

Maybe it's because of the way he smirks at Regulus' threat, or how he raises both hands in mock surrender, the gesture lazy and insincere.

Or maybe it's the fact that they're alone in the ring, even though Regulus should've left with his crew more than half an hour ago. And the fact that Potter isn't wearing a shirt, but he seems to be allergic to them, anyway, so it's not like it fazes him at this point.

That's what he keeps telling himself, at least.

"You can certainly try," Potter says with his hands still up, and offering a tiny shrug. "I don't know if I like your chances, though."

Regulus narrows his eyes. "You don't think I can fight you?"

"I don't think you can win."

He crosses his arms over his chest as he lets out a scoff, and Potter's smirk seems to grow bigger at the sound.

"And why the fuck not?" Regulus questions.

"Because I'm a professional boxer, love," Potter explains, his voice patient, but there's a certain mocking edge in his words that makes Regulus grits his teeth. "I wouldn't be where I am if someone like you could touch me."

"Someone like me?" Regulus repeats a bit incredulously. He can already feel that one vein in his forehead starting to pop out.

James chuckles, shaking his head a little. He finally drops his arms down. "You know what I mean."

"Actually, I don't. And I'm not sure I want to."

"C'mon, love—"

"Don't call me that."

"—you don't even know how to throw a punch."

Regulus blinks at him, not sure if he's heard correctly, and then he does a double take, barely repressing a derisive snort.

"Excuse me?" he murmurs. "Of course I know how to throw a punch."

"You think you know how to throw a punch," Potter corrects him, that infuariating smile still in place. Regulus is tempted to prove him how well he can actually throw a punch just to wipe it off his face.

"I mean, obviously I can't do it like you do, you're a professional athlete, for fuck's sake—"

"Oh, love, don't worry, I'd never hold you to my standards," Potter intervenes with a laugh, eyes shining with mirth. Regulus face is beginning to heat up, and he isn't sure if it's because of anger or something else. "I'm not talking about a boxing punch. I'm talking about a proper punch."

Regulus exhales loudly, fingers twitching. "Potter."

"Yeah?"

"I know how to throw a fucking proper punch."

Potter raises an eyebrow and he lets his gaze to go up and down the length of Regulus' body, slow and intentional. Regulus has a hard time not squirming, battling against his instincts to keep his face empty, to stop his thighs from pressing together.

"I bet you don't," Potter comments, once his eyes finally find Regulus' again. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't make breathing any easier. "You're too pretty to have been getting into fights."

Regulus is unable to suppress an indignant huff, cheeks coulouring at an alarming pace while his expression twists into a scowl.

"You don't fucking know me," he seethes, jaw so clenched it's slowly becoming painful. "You've got no idea of how my life looks like, or what I've done to get where I'm at."

Potter seems unbothered by the outburst. In fact, he kind of looks a little entertained.

"Maybe so," he concedes with a tilt of his head. "But I know you'd break easy."

Regulus' heart skips a beat. "I don't—"

"Just look at you," Potter goes on, staring him up and down once again. He still sounds slightly mocking, but there's something else in his tone this time. Something darker. "So fucking gorgeous. Holding yourself like you're goddamn royalty. You're feisty, and you're sneaky, I'll give you that, but you'd fold embarrisingly fast against me, wouldn't you, love?"

Regulus gulps, throat suddenly so dry it feels like sandpaper. He tries to shake his head, but his body isn't responding, and when he opens his mouth to snap back, nothing comes out of it.

"You like to act all tough and cold and as if nothing can touch you, but if I were to lay my hands on you—"

"Potter," Regulus manages to spit out, but it sounds hoarse. Weak.

"Oh, you'd break so beautifully for me, right, love? You'd put a bit of a fight at first, because you can't help yourself, and I like that about you anyway, but you'd let go at some point."

"Potter," he tries again, and it sounds a bit sharper, but still too close to a whimper for Regulus' tastes.

"I'd fucking ruin you if you allowed me to, Regulus." His name makes him tremble, goosebumps breaking into his skin, and Regulus has to bite his tongue to stop an inappropriate noise from escaping. "I know you want to. You're really fucking stubborn, and you almost fooled me that first time, that's true, but one can only keep that facade for so long. I've seen how you look at me."

"And how do I look at you?"

"Like all those girls who can't ask me for an autograph without blushing, thinking of me when they have their hands between their legs," Potter responds, gaze so intense it makes Regulus want to scream. "Like your cameraman whenever I stand a bit too close to him, always shifting his body the slightest bit so his shoulder grazes mine. Like Lily whenever I'm between her thighs, and she's begging me to let her come."

Regulus almost gasps, burning with fury but also with something that has nothing to do with it.

The audacity of this man, really. Regulus hates him. Despises him, even. Him and his absurd amount of confidence that has no business being this attractive.

It's hard to pretend to be unaffacted. To pretend he doesn't feel a stab in his stomach by that last statement, by the thought of James and Lily being together, even though it's something he's known almost since the beginning. To act like he doesn't care, like he isn't fucking aching between his legs, wet and hot and desperate.

Regulus doesn't think he completely manages it.

"You're so fucking full of yourself," Regulus grinds out, digging his nails into his arms so hard he's sure to leave marks.

"And yet I'm not hearing you deny it," Potter sing-songs, still grinning widely.

"I don't like you," Regulus insists, raising his chin.

"But you want me to fuck you."

This time, a strangled sound, high-pitched and bordering on needy, manages to slip out of Regulus' mouth, and James shows teeth, that feral light that appears every time he wins a match shining in his brown eyes.

"You wish," Regulus says, trying to save whatever dignity he has left, trying to fix this stupid mistake, this amateur slip up.

"I do," Potter confirms with ease, and Regulus can't swallow properly with the knot he has stuck in between his vocal chords.

"Shut up," it's all that Regulus can get out, which is quite pathetic, but still better than nothing.

"That's still not a denial," Potter points out, satisfaction oozing of him and making Regulus see red.

"I literally can't fucking stand you. I don't think it's necessary for me to tell you that I don't want anything to do with you," Regulus snaps. "Besides, if so many people are tripping all over themselves for you, then I don't understand why you're not bothering them instead."

"Because I want you."

Regulus actually chokes after that, a gulp of air getting stuck in his throat and his heart beating madly between his ribs.

"No." He shakes his head, furiously, desperately, and takes a step back almost at the same time that Potter takes a step forward.

"Yes," the other man presses, undeterred. "I want you, Regulus."

"Potter. Shut up."

"I can make you feel so good, love. You need to stop depriving yourself."

"Potter."

"I know you've thought about it. About me. I'm sure you're thinking about it now, about how amazing I'd feel between your legs, on top of you. Inside you."

"Potter. Stop."

"I bet your underwear is fucking soaked—"

"James."

It slips, sneaking past his lips without Regulus' permission, going unnoticed until it's too late to stop it, or take it back. He has the silly urge to cover his mouth with his mouth, as if that'd be enough to erase the word, the power and implications that name holds.

The reaction is almost immediate.

James' pupils spread out, eating at his irises at a concerning pace. Regulus is so distracted looking at them, that it takes him a moment to realise James is advancing, rushing towards him like a man on a mission.

Regulus retreats, nearly falling over in his haste, doing his best to get as far away from the other man as possible. But James is faster than him, and his back ends up colliding against one of the pillars of the ring. James has his arms bracketing his head in a matter of seconds, and all of a sudden, Regulus is trapped. With absolutely nowhere to go.

"Get away from me!" Regulus exclaims, voice all wrong and wobbly, hands coming up to push at James' chest but not daring to touch.

"Say it again," James demands, completely ignoring him.

"What?"

"Say it again."

Regulus scoffs weakly. "I don't want to."

"Regulus."

"Get. The fuck. Away. From me."

"Regulus."

It shakes him to his very core, and he's helpless to the shudder that rattles his frame, to the way his eyes screw close, so very tight his vision fills up with shiny spots.

When he opens them again, a few moments later, he ends up meeting James' hungry gaze head on.

It destroys the last of his defences.

"James," he repeats in a whisper, heat coiling in his stomach at the other man's intake of breath.

"Again," James asks, almost demands, voice low and strained.

"James."

"Again." And it's a beg.

"James."

"Yeah," the other man mumbles to himself. "Yeah."

James leans forward, and Regulus feels like he's about go into cardiac arrest until James turns his head at the very last second, mouth grazing the lobe of his ear instead of his lips.

"I'll teach you," he tells him softly. Quietly.

"What?" he asks, hardly breathing and refusing to move a single muscle.

James huffs, and it's amused. "How to throw a punch."

"My brother already taught me," Regulus retorts with a roll of his eyes. "And he's better than you."

"Was better than me," James shoots back, and despite this being a topic that usually annoys him, always getting him all petty and defensive, it barely drags an irritated sigh out of him this time.

"Winning one match doesn't mean anything."

"Except that it does."

"No, it doesn't. Sirius' been unbeatable for literal years, and he's worked his arse off to get to where he is, and you'll never—"

"C'mon, love," James whines against his ear, and Regulus has to swallow a gasp. "I'll lend you some comfier clothes and I'll show you how to stand and some tricks, make sure next time I'm being too much of a prick you can shut me up nicely. Maybe you'll even break my nose."

Regulus bites his lower lip, refusing to allow the corners of his mouth to curl upwards. "That does sound good."

James chuckles, and Regulus doesn't acknowledge the way that sounds fills his chest with warmth.

"So? Okay?" James wonders.

Regulus closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Hopes he won't come to regret this, and sends a silent apology to his brother.

He opens his eyes.

"Okay."

[jflemings]

— birthday wishes

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: you make sure jessie has a good day for her first birthday in portland

warnings: a lil suggestive & not edited

a/n: a lil smth smth for the birthday girl (i don’t rlly like this ending but fuck it we ball)

contrary to popular belief, jessie actually really liked celebrating her birthday. she liked that her mum always baked her a cake when she was growing up, she liked that you made the effort to always give her flowers and she liked it when her and her sister designated a time to facetime. the thing that she liked most of all though, was being able to have all her favourite people in one place,

this year was different though. jessie’s mood had seemed to get deplete the closer her birthday got. she had been adjusting to the move well enough but she didn’t exactly have the time to get really settled before she was off win team canada for the gold cup, the semi final loss leaving her more restless then when she left.

still, you made the effort to at least attempt to make this birthday feel somewhat normal. you bought her a bouquet of pink tulips and baby’s breath from a florist you spotted one afternoon on your way home from work, a lego flower bouquet set that the two of you wanted to build together and a proper, high quality photo album so that all of her favourite photos she’s taken can be in one place.

you sneak back into your shared bedroom with her flowers in one hand and coffee in the other, placing them down on a flipped cardboard box that your girlfriend had been using as a makeshift bedside table, before pouncing on her. you practically jump onto her back and lay yourself down flat on top of her, placing your head on her shoulder as she awoke.

jessie, in all her sleepy-faced-bedheaded glory, flashes you a smile as you trace patterns on her back through her sleep shirt.

“good morning birthday girl” you whisper quietly to her “how does twenty six feel?”

“not any different than twenty five�� she rasps out whilst beginning to roll over onto her back. you slide off her effortlessly before she pulls you into her, one arm wrapping around your shoulders whilst the other hoists you onto her chest. she wraps both arms around you protectively and tightly, leaning her head on your own as she lets out a content sigh.

you reach over her as best you can and grab the bouquet “your birthday flowers madam”

jessie gives you one of her famous soft smiles “thank you, they’re beautiful” she praises gratefully, sniffing them before taking them from you and placing them on the ground, grabbing your torso so she can guide you up the front of her body, kissing you sweetly and slowly.

you pull away from her and lift your arms so that they’re on either side of her head “only the best for my girl” you say before taking advantage of the position your arms are in and pulling yourself up so you’re straddling jessie’s hips.

“as much as i would love to lay around with you all morning, you” you emphasise by poking a finger into the canadian’s chest “have training and then lunch with the girls, and i have work that needs to be done.”

jessie rolls her eyes and trails her hands up your sides “just five more minutes” she exhales “i don’t feel like getting up yet”

you swing your leg over jessie and roll onto your side of the mattress, sitting and then standing in one swift motion. you then walk to the end of the bed frame-less mattress and grip the bottom of the duvet that jessie is comfortably under “if i let you lay here for five more minutes then i’m going to feel the need to lay down with you, which will then turn into morning sex, which means that when janine comes to get you in about an hour not only will she be interrupting us but she’ll also be late because you won’t be ready” you explain pointedly, finally ripping the blanket off your girlfriend.

jessie shivers slightly at the sudden loss of warmth before sitting herself up on her elbows and forearms “i’ll be quick, promise” she smirks amused, raising her eyebrows in an almost challenging way.

you’re almost half convinced, her position on the bed paired with the confident smirk she doesn’t wear often slowly drawing you in. you tilt your head in faux thought, slowly leaning down and propping your knee up near her feet, planting your hands flat on either side of her legs. you hover for a moment and open your mouth to say something before a blaring alarm sounds off through the room.

jessie rolls her eyes and picks her phone up, quickly turning the alarm off and tossing it to the side. by the time she’s done that you’re up and halfway out the door.

“y/n” she draws out frustratedly “five minutes!”

“your coffee is going cold jess”

——

jess huffs as janine pulls up to the curb in front of the home she shares with you. lunch had gone longer than expected and although she appreciated the fact that the team celebrated her birthday with her, she had begun to miss her ex teammates even more.

“you tired jeffery?” janine muses “wouldn’t wanna be, y/n’s probably gonna keep you up all hours of the night”

“ooookay!” jessie hastily says as she reaches for the door handle “thanks for organising lunch, i had a really good time”

janine nods and smiles before reaching behind her seat and handing jessie a cobalt blue gift bag “this is from me and sinc” she says just as jessie opens her mouth to protest “and don’t say that we didn’t have to because we know! we just wanted to give you a little something”

jessie takes the bag off her teammate carefully, opening the door at the same time and awkwardly sliding out. she gathers her training bag, phone and gift bag before shooting janine a wide, genuine smile and shutting the car door. as the midfielder walks to her front door she notices the warm light peaking through the windows.

it’s not dark outside but the sun has started to set, so she finds it odd that you’ve already turned on the lamp in the front room. she thinks nothing of it as she opens the door and steps in sideways before kicking it shut, slightly cringing at the loud slam. when you don’t scold her for slamming the front door, like you had always done, she becomes puzzled.

magenta light that she hadn’t seen from outside bounces off the walls and the smell of sandalwood slowly invaded her senses as she begins to creep into the main living area. you’re still no where to be found and she’s about to call out for you when she stops herself, her jaw going slack and eyes going wide.

next to the window on the furthest wall hangs her canada and chelsea jerseys that she received for reaching one hundred games, underneath multiple framed photos and trinkets sit on top of the buffet, a birthday banner and balloon numbers two and six find themselves near by. the magenta light is coming from a lamp that you had at your place back in london and next to it sits jessie’s burning sandalwood candle, other bits of decor like potted plants, a ceramic mug with miscellaneous pens and pencils, unread books and small collectables have all found homes in her home. her home that wasn’t like this when she reluctantly got up this morning.

she hears the bathroom door open and watches you round the corner, a towel messily drying your hair as you hum to yourself. you haven’t seen her so she places her things down next to the kitchen table, slightly startling you.

you just about jump out of your skin when you hear the unknown noise, dropping the towel and placing a hand over your racing heart “jessie fleming! you scared the absolute shit out of me” you exclaim half out of breath “you could’ve announced yourself when you walked in”

you pull a ladybug patterned gift bag out from under the dining table as you walk past and place it in front of her, nodding in the direction of the bag “open it” you say giddily, practically bouncing on your toes as you watch her reach into the bag.

she pulls out a plain white faux leather photo album that’s bound by brown leather strings and the lego flower bouquet set that the two of you had said you’d wanted to build together once you got settled. she opens the photo album to reveal a photo that was taken of her, niamh and zećira on her birthday last year.

the three of them were dressed nicely and standing in your old kitchen before everyone went out for dinner. you had taken the picture on a cheap disposable you’d had for ages so the film was a bit discoloured and jess and niamh were both laughing at zećira’s expense after she’d almost tripped over her own two feet, but it was one of you favourite photos of the three of them.

jessie looks to you with tears in her eyes, and she watches your mouth quickly turns into a frown. you reach for her without a second thought, already thinking the worst “are you okay? did something happen?” you ask concerned, pulling her into you and wrapping your arms securely around her body.

“no i’m good” she mumbled weakly, sniffling slightly “you did all this today?”

you nod “did the bathroom as well, thought it might de stress you a little bit” you explain softly “why are you crying jess?”

jessie shakes her head and detaches herself from you “i’m just so tired” the canadian mumbles “and i just love you so much.”

you run your hands up and down her biceps “too tired for cake?” you ask cheekily before moving to the fridge. jessie watches you pull out a white frosted cake with small red hearts littering the surface, placing it down and allowing her to see 26th piped on with black icing. you reach into a drawer and pull out a brand new pack of colourful birthday candles, quickly sticking the red one in and lighting it.

“make a wish birthday girl” you say whilst pushing the cake almost directly under jessie’s nose.

she quirks a brow “what? no birthday song?”

you shrug “i figured janine would’ve had the whole team singing it at lunch, thought you’d be content with hearing it once”

the footballer nods in agreement and closes her eyes, blowing the candle out in one go and waving her hand to disperse the smoke. you tilt your head curiously, leaning your forearms on the dark wood of the dining table “you didn’t even make a wish!” you exclaim.

jessie rolls her eyes and sits down, patting her lap so that you can sit on her “i did make a wish, thank you very much.” she defends as you oblige happily and throw your arms around her neck. once situated you swipe your pointer finger through the frosting and holding it up to her mouth. she licks the icing off your finger and snakes her hand up your back to hold your neck, pulling you down to her level so she can kiss you.

the kiss is sweet but hard as she holds you delicately whilst swiping her tongue on your bottom lip. you smile and open your mouth, adjusting yourself on her lap so that your body is facing more towards her.

it feels like the two of you sit there making out for almost an eternity before jess pulls away to come up for air, her lips pink and slightly swollen “wanna know what i wished for?”

your lips ghost over hers “if you tell me then it won’t come true”

the hand that was holding your neck slides down to cradle the small of your back whilst jessie’s other hand runs over your thighs aimlessly. she shrugs and the same smug smirk that she wore this morning returns to her face “i’ll just show you then”

in the blink of an eye she’s hoisting you up and standing quickly before racing off in the direction of your bedroom. you giggle loudly at jessie’s sudden burst of energy and quickly become grateful that the two of you don’t have a bed frame when she pins you to the mattress.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Can you pls write something like Miguel accidentally really hurts reader so she’s in Hospital or smth and Miguel goes to visit and apologise but Hobie’s really protective and doesn’t want him to see her?? and Miguel’s her dad bc I love angst thanknyouuu <3

Accidents

Angst, fluff, Miguel gets no happy ending atm

He didn’t even realize he had done it.

“Miguel! Be more careful!” She said, looking at him and back to your unconscious body.

“I’m trying!” He said, holding the tentacle doc ock was throwing at him. He said, not looking back.

Jessica shook her head, and entered the portal quickly. She quickly ran to the infirmary, when Hobie spotted her. He looked in her arms and went over, confused on who it was at first.

It wasn’t until he stopped and realized it was you.

He looked at Jess, and he looked at you.

“What the fuck happened?” He said, alarmed.

“It doesn’t matter right now, what matters is that she’s bleeding out in my arms!” She said, and quickly put her on the stretcher, and they quickly rolled her away.

Jessica sighed as Hobie followed you in, the doctors didn’t care too much about him entering and focused on you.

They took off your clothes, and stopped the bleeding first. Then they put you in a hospital gown, and quickly pulled up some machines, checking what was wrong.

Hobie was at your side the whole time, holding your hand and looking at the doctors while doing so.

They did their thing with Hobie in there, and they said there was nothing much else they could do except wait. You were in stable condition luckily. The doctors left after a while.

“Fuck. Knew I shoulda been there, fuckin’..” he paced around the room. The door opened slowly, and Gwen had some flowers and a card in her hand. Pavitr had a sad look on his face.

“Hey… we heard what happened.. you alright in here? They wouldn’t let us in at first.” Gwen said.

Hobie snapped his head to Gwen and Pavitr.

“Where’s Miguel? He should be here-“

“You don’t know…?” Pavitr said.

“Know what..?” Hobie asked.

“He’s the one that did this, bro. We were shocked too. But we went to go get something from him and he was talking to Jessica and Peter B, and we overheard them. He was mad as hell.”

Hobies face dropped, and he was just mad at him now.

“What?” Hobie said angrily.

They both stayed silent and Hobie groaned in frustration. Your own dad did this, and you hadn’t even realized.

“Sorry, man.” Pavitr pat his shoulder and gave him a small hug.

“Swear to God, I’m gonna fucking kill Miguel-“ he was interrupted when someone entered the room.

Miguel.

“How’d this happen?” Hobie asked him immediately.

“It was an accident-“

“This ain’t no fuckin’ accident you can brush off, you coulda fuckin’-“

“But I didn’t. She’s alive. She’s my daughter, Hobie. Let me in-“ he tried pushing Hobie.

“Nah, man. Can’t let you do that.”

You started to wake up and Miguels eyes widened at that.

“Y/n… I didn’t mean to, Y/n!” He said and was being held back by his own doctors.

“Sir, you need to calm down, this is an infirmary-“

“I created this fucking place. I know that.” He spat at the doctor

“Just please… you can come in when your calm.”

“One person in here at a time please.” The doctor said when they entered the room, they all left Hobie and you.

He looked at you and you gave him a small smile.

“Hobie.”

“Yeah, It’s me. You alright?” He said, caressing your cheek.

“What happened?” You asked.

“Well.. you were on a mission, and you got hurt. Don’t know how but..” he lied. He shouldn’t say something that might mess up you and your dad’s relationship.

“Oh.”

“How are you feeling, Ms. O’Hara?” The doctor asked.

“I’m feeling… tired. Sore. It hurts.” You mumbled to her, looking at her.

“That’s expected. You took some heavy damage, we suggest that you don’t go on missions for a while. At least until you’re healed.”

You nodded and looked back at Hobie.

“Where’s my dad?”

“He’s outside.” The doctor said.

You sighed and looked at Hobie again.

“You okay?”

“I’m jus’ tired.. I missed you though.”

He laughed quietly “Well, don’t worry cause I’m not leaving your side anymore.”

————-

Tag list:

Hobie- @enviinotes @rayis-psychotic @korizzybee @animechick555 @stupid-ninja @rreasonablydumbb @xxqueen-of-horrorrxx @spidypunkk @criodzasn

@techta @1eonk @chipstermation6 @whosace16 @ @l-pandamatic-l

@spider-phoenix @zebralover @my-melo-gf @wiz-te-ria @tzuyuzzs @luvsaluv @mxkn

@deputy-videogamer @666kpopfan @jared-oranges @likelilac @jjkclub

@kitty-kei @blaxk-widow @hoesindifferentshows @lavsluvsu @lampylamperson @notbluees @sp0kyzz @arlipooh @freeingrebels @ken-zah @blustalker @cursedbitchboy @romanoffswoman

@chaoticevilbakugo @hobiebrainrot @anonima-2

[noemilivv]

hi!

Mayhaps charlie x gn reader one shot?, reader and charlie set up a board game night for the peeps at hotel, where nobody actually showed up for the lil party cuz someone maybe didnt tell ppl about it (charlie def charlie) so it was just them and they end up making out or smth

-🎺 anon

“𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝” — 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

a/n: hiya 🎺 anon!! i’m doing a different format cause i’m feeling a bit lazy :’) also sorry it took me so long to get to this but i’m doing it now so 😭😭

warnings: heated(?) makeout sesh, suggestive ending

proofread: nahh 😭

tags: charlie morningstar, x reader, hazbin hotel, fanfic

charlie’s day wasn’t going well so far, and that was an understatement, her father and alastor were having issues…again, she had to stop niffty from freaking out the newer residents, and it seemed like not a single productive thing was getting done.

to ease her stress slightly, she thought a game night with the rest of the hotel would be a blast, however, it just seemed to stress her out more…

the problem was, she forgot to tell basically everyone, it didn’t even occur to her until after sitting around for 20 minutes after setting everything up, she had what felt like the whole night planned.

it wasn’t until you came over to her that her nerves started to calm, you crouched down infront of her as she sat infront of a coffee table with a pouty expression. “well, what’s got ya all by your lonesome?” you smirked.

charlie sighed before saying “well.. i had this game night planned, and i completely forgot to tell everyone..!” her lips going into a small pouty shape.

“i could play with you.” you smile softly, plopping down on the ground infront of her, charlie nodding eagerly, you couldn’t help but giggle at her silly self.

“sooo…” you trailed off, looking through the selection of board games to choose from, “what do you wanna play first?” you ask, looking up at charlie for her approval.

“hmmm..” charlie hummed, tapping her finger lightly against the table, her eyes lit up at the sight of one that caught her eye. “that one!” she smiled, and that one you played.

halfway through the game, you watched charlie cheer as she scored a few additional points, “if you win, i’ll give you a prize.”

charlie’s eyes flickered up to meet yours, nodding eagerly with a smile.

that seemed to fill her with at least a little bit of determination, you’d never seen her fight for something so small, her eyes piercing into the board and her tongue peaking out of the corner of her mouth.

charlie looked at the number on the dice in delight as she grabbed her pink game piece and moved it to the end of the board. “yes, i won!!” she cheered, before letting out a small gasp in realization, “wait — what’s my reward?” she asked with an excited grin, catching her off guard, you leaned over the table, grasping her cheeks, and began to kiss her on the lips.

she let out a breathy giggle through her toothy grin as she began to kiss you back, her hands resting on your sides, sure, it was messy, but it didn’t feel messy, it felt right.

you licked the corners of her lips, as her mouth opened agape to let your tongue in with hers, your tongues hooked around eachother, exploring eachothers warm embrace, her hands travelled up and down your sides, before you pulled away, biting the bottom of her lip, a trail of salvia connecting you both, the same way an invisible string connected your souls.

charlie chuckled, still catching her breath, “c’mon, lets forget about this whole ‘game night’ thing and go up to my room, yeah?”

i do not permit for my work to be reposted, translated, or stolen. all rights go to signedmio. characters are not mine, unless stated, and belong to their rightful creators.