#you know how some people make vases and glasses by cutting down empty bottles

[chamomileteainabuttercup]

just want to say this is an impressive work of mug scholarship

and that I'm probably not qualified to write it but I hope there's a story where Steve visits the trailer during a peaceful time and is like... why do you guys have all those mismatched mugs hanging up on the wall (because at his house everything matches or it's Out) and Eddie is like EXCUSE YOU every one of those mugs has a Significance and a Story attached to it, this is a family history, and proceeds to relate the story for any mug Steve points out (with gestures, character voices and sound effects)

to the end of his days Steve isn't sure whether those were real pre-existing stories or Eddie was making them up on the spot because he's good at improvising but either way it was enjoyable to listen to his tales

maybe at some point when he's pretty much a fixture there Steve brings in a mug he chose and diffidently asks if there could be room for one for the story of how he and Eddie met.

Eddie (banging a nail into the wall): there is now

[songmingisthighs]

[4.11] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ you thought he didn't care, he was sure he doesn't, he had said it so himself to you. that was, until he almost lost the chance of being able to care for you.

⇁ tw : running away, mafia life (criminal/illegal acts)

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

At first, Wooyoung thought you had really ran away from him. After the fight you had the previous night, how could he not ?

"All I ask is a little bit of attention! I know you could spare some for me," you exclaimed, following after Wooyoung into the home office in his mansion. Yes, his, he never once said it was yours too so you treat it as such.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you, "and I ask you shut that big trap you called your mouth before I shut it for you, but we can't all get what we wanted now, can we ?" He spat.

You're used to his aggressive words, it used to hurt but now the pain just comes and goes. But you're at your wit's end, he was distant when you both were first forced into engagement but he was still polite so you thought that was just the shock, but now that you're married, things got worse.

"Wooyoung," you called, leaning both of your hands on his desk aa he sit on his office chair, "it's been 8 months since we got married," he glared at you when you said that, so you sighed and change your choice of words, "since we were force into marriage... But I've been trying so hard to make this less of a chore for both of us, I don't know what else I could do! You're not even bothering to hide the fact that you hate my guts to your very core even though it wasn't my fault that we got into this! Heck, you don't even bother to acknowledge that I exist!"

Wooyoung slammed his hands down on the table, standing face to face with you, "that's right," he chuckled darkly, "I don't even bother, you know why? Because you're nothing in my life, I never ask for you, I never wanted you, you're still here because your dad's business fell through with my dad and he used you as mean of escaping because that's all you are, princess," he leaned closer to your face and spoke through gritted teeth, "a worthless burden that people toss around,"

It would've been a lie if you said that his words doesn't affect you whatsoever. Because it does.

Maybe deep down that was one of your biggest fear and having someone confirmed that made you feel sick to your stomach. You recoiled from the table, as if having been struck across your face.

Though Wooyoung had a satisfied smirk on his face, "you should know I've been planning your assasination ever since you said 'I do', I would've made it look like an accident so that my dad wouldn't be up in my ass talking about losing his insurance of control over your dad, maybe I should move the schedule up so I can get rid of you quicker,"

You stared at him for a while, not knowing that he actually hated you that much. All this time you thought it was just petty reluctance of being tied to you, but this just brought things to a whole new level.

"No..." you choked out, trying to hold back tears, "I'll take care of it myself," and with that, you ran out of his office to pack all your belongings with tears streaming down your face.

And that was the last time Wooyoung had seen you. He had heard from one of his butlers that he had seen you running around the house retrieving your things where it supposedly was earlier, you looked frantic and you hadn't even taken a second to take a break.

"And did she got out of the house today?" Wooyoung asked from his position on the couch, loosening all of the buttons on his shirt. "No, master, not that any of us know of," said butler then leaned close to Wooyoung's ears, "the cctv has been cut off, her bodyguards are dismissed, no one has tended to her nor got close to her, and I personally see to it that all windows and doors are unlocked just as you had requested,"

Wooyoung couldn't believe that he's probably a free man now, that YOU had left him so that he wouldn't be in hot water with his father.

With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he decided to look around to see whether or not you had really left while telling his maid to prepare dinner for him.

True to what he expected, he made two laps around the mansion but not once did he find you. Not even in his office with a divorce paper, as dramatic as it sound.

He finally step into his shared bedroom with you to make his final confirmation.

At first he knocked on the door, not really knowing why he did that, but when no sound came from the room he simply opened the door and walked in. He hadn't returned the night before, spending half of his night in his home office before going out with San to a bar, not realizing that it was his guilt that drove him out to drink his memory away.

Looking around the room, he couldn't really tell whether or not you had ran away. The room looked like it had been slept in the night before, he could see the spot where you laid in comparison to his side that's perfectly neat.

When he stepped into the walk-in closet, he was quite surprised at the sheer contrast to the bedroom. Your clothes thrown haphazardly, it seems like you were urgently looking for things to pack, and the more he analyze the items on the floor, the more he realized that you hadn't taken anything that was bought with his money.

But that wasn't the thing that got his attention.

It was your wedding dress that had been taken out of its garment bag, across from it, an empty bottle of wine and a box of tissues with crumpled tissues surrounding it. It looked straight out of a movie.

He walked closer to the dress and trailed a hand down it.

He remembered seeing you wear it on your wedding day. He remembered being too pissed at his father to be able to fully appreciate how ethereal you looked. He remembered how when you looked at him, he could see the redness in your eyes, indicating that you had been crying.

But over all, he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you walking closer to him. Of course, he would never admit it outwardly.

His train of thought was broken when his butler knocked on his bedroom door, "master, dinner is served," he said.

Wooyoung cleared his throat and straighten out his posture, "yes, of course, I'll be there soon," he called out.

As the footsteps of his butler fade, he carefully zip your wedding dress back into its garment bag, making sure that the dress is stored perfectly.

After that, he went to the dining room to have his dinner.

Usually, you'd be seated in your seat, across from him at the other end of the table that seats 10 people. He'd have to admit that it feels weird not seeing you smile at him after a long day of working, but he forced himself to believe that it was a good kind of weird.

Strangely, as he eat his food he felt that it doesn't match his palate, that something feels off. So he called for his head butler and asked him about it.

"Did we change cooks? Why does today's dinner taste so bland?"

His butler seemed hesitant to answer him, looking at the head maid for a bit. The middle-aged woman stepped forward from her spot, bowing slightly to avoid Wooyoung's eyes, "we did not have any change in staffs, sir, it's just that the mistress used to prepare all of your meals and considering... the circumstances, she had not prepared anything for you," she said, not even bothering to hide her bitterness that he had drove you away.

Considerably, he was shocked that you had never brought the fact up to him. But as usual, he masked his true feelings and just nod at her, continuing with his meal even though he can't seem to enjoy it.

The shock didn't stop there, though.

Over the course of the first 5 days of you leaving him, he began noticing the things that indicate your presence in his house. Or used to indicate your presence.

He never knew that you were the one who always put flowers around the mansion. He noticed this when he passed by a vase of wilting aconite. It almost broke him when he see the maids cleared all flowers, leaving an empty vase that he now associate with your absence.

He never knew that you kept tabs on food he likes and dislikes. After 3 days, he gave up on eating the food his cook made for him, firing the poor man on the spot and resorting to take outs.

He never knew that you were the one who personally arrange his wardrobe. Usually, every morning he'd find his favorite shirts or favorite sets of clothes on the front, ready for him to pick out and wear. Now that you're not here, he had to spend extra time deciding what to wear.

And lastly, he was surprised at the fact that you had never made it to your hometown.

"What do you mean she's not with her parents?" He growled at his henchmen, making them visibly scared. "W-we tried looking for her, even asking around, but no one had seen her," he explained.

All Wooyoung wanted was to hear about how you're happier without him, how you've settled back to your life without him, how he'd be assured with the fact that you leaving him was the best thing that could ever happen to you two.

Feeling that he owed this for the sake of his own closure, he ordered everyone under him to find out your whereabouts.

The desperation suffocated him, he hated the feeling.

So he ran out of his office to his garden, going to the furthest side where it is practically abandoned so that he'd be all alone to calm his mind.

What he hadn't expect to see though, was several pieces of clothes on the ground. At first he just thought that the laundry might have flown away due to the wind, but when he inspected them closer, he recognized them as yours.

"Why would these be here?" He muttered to himself as he began picking up the scattered pieces of clothes one by one. When he picked up the last piece, he noticed your suitcase by the corner of the tall wall that surround his house for protection.

The sight that made his stomach drop was a rather huge hole that could fit a person.

Wooyoung's brain put 2 and 2 together and the only reasonable conclusion made him feel like blowing up.

You had been kidnapped.

[esmealux]

Hi there! For the two-part drabble, may I request Deckerstar in situation 13 (someone does something stupid) with sentence 6 ("Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.") Thank you, and I've really really been enjoying your the updates on your Planning a Hell of a Wedding fic!

Hey! It took me two months (including more than one month of writing) but I've now finally finished your prompt. Another anon had requested 25 (being somewhere you're not supposed to) + 6 and dear @my-crazy-awesome-sox had requested 26 (a very cheesy date) + 6, so I've merged all your prompts into one 7K+ long 'drabble'. Hope you don't mind!

And I'm glad you like the updates on PHW! I'll try to write some more now that I've finished this.

Hope you like this!

Also, an immense special thanks to @my-crazy-awesome-sox for helping me with this fic. She truly has been a godsend, and a lot of the wording (especially in the later parts) is kindly and almost directly borrowed from her mind. Thank you again, babe!

Also thanks to @lightbringer-666 for assisting me with some French. If all the French isn't perfect, it's because I also googled my way to a lot of it. Apologies in advance (and please do let me know if there's anything I should change!)

Someone does something stupid + being somehwere you're not supposed to + a very cheesy date + 'Do I love you? Yes. Do I like you? That's still up for debate.'

Rated M. Post 5B - contains spoilers!

Read on AO3 (includes list with English translations)

It’s ridiculous, really. The butterflies fluttering in her stomach like she’s a schoolgirl waiting for her prom date. It’s not even their first date. It’s not even their second. The thing is, between becoming God and Consultant, revising a few laws of the cosmos, fixing some bugs in humanity, bringing Dan to Heaven, and going to therapy, she and Lucifer haven’t had much time for, well, each other. At least not in ways that didn’t involve discussions about the redesign of the afterworld and how to sate world hunger. So yes, she is a little giddy with excitement at the thought of having a whole evening to themselves—no celestial craziness. Just the two of them and a bottle of the restaurant’s finest.

If Lucifer would just show up.

She checks her phone. 06:14. Unlike last time she anxiously waited for him in a restaurant, there’s a text.

Running a bit late. Please forgive me. Can’t wait to see you ❤

And one more.

Sorry. Can’t wait to see you naked*

Chloe shakes her head, a stupid smile spreading across her face. She resists typing back a flirty reply—he’ll be with her in a minute, and she is nota schoolgirl—and puts her phone back in her clutch. Hands trembling a little, she smooths out invisible creases in the dress he’s bought her. It’s short and tight, of course, but perfectly so. Reaching mid-thigh, with a small slit revealing a bit more of her left thigh. Black, unsurprisingly; he still hasn’t gotten over how delectable she looked in the LBD she wore on their last ‘date’. And this one makes her legs look even longer, which is undoubtedly the primary reason Lucifer picked it. Still, it isn’t skimpy. He could have opted for a deep neckline and cold shoulders—she almost expected him to when he said he’d bought her a dress—but he didn’t. Instead, the short and skin-tight skirt is perfectly balanced with a high neck and long bell sleeves that are cut open just above her joints, making the soft fabric flow around her bare underarms. She likes it—would probably have bought it herself if it weren’t crazy expensive. Likes how it makes her feel both sexy and classy and most of all comfortable, likes that he knows her so well.

She fidgets with her earring and traces the rim of her empty wine glass with her fingertip, watching people as much as she can from their semi-private corner. She spots an Oscar-winning film director, a retired NFL player, that pop star Lucifer pretends to hate, and just how expensive isthis place?

She’s immediately distracted by the shift in the air and the sound of Italian loafers approaching her.

‘My me, Detective!’

His brown eyes roam her figure as she stands to kiss him. Their lips meet in a soft peck that could easily have turned into more if Lucifer hadn’t pulled away to look her up and down.

‘You look like a goddess.’

Chloe snorts and chuckles, not yet used to the title he insists is hers if she’ll have it. She puts a hand on his chest, gazing up at him with a smile.

‘You don’t look too bad yourself.’

He hums and leans in for another kiss, but something comes between them this time. They both look down—at a dozen red roses.

‘Those for me?’ she asks, warmth spreading in her chest.

Lucifer hands her the bouquet with a nod and that soft smile she loves more than anything. He pulls out her chair, a gentle hand on her shoulder as she sits down, and sits down himself.

There’s a card nestled between the velvet petals: ‘For the Detective & Consultant’, her old and new moniker scribbled side by side in his annoyingly elegant handwriting. The latter nickname, however, is written in smaller, cramped letters—an afterthought. She smiles.

She turns the card, expecting to find a dirty, eye-roll-deserving comment on the back. But there’s no lewd joke or naughty promise.

It simply says, ‘I love you.’

Her heart swells, filling her chest till it aches. It’s all so new still. Not the love between them, but how it’s uninhibited now. It’s not like they don’t have their obstacles—just yesterday they had a fight—but there’s no doubt anymore, no voices telling them some dreams simply cannot be. They might have a whole universe to deal with, but for the first time ever, things between them are easy. No words are left unsaid. No feelings are squashed. No time is wasted. Every day is spent wrapped in each other’s love. Finally.

‘I love you too,’ she tells him, and he lights up, amazed. Confident. Their hands find each other on the table, fingers intertwining.

A waiter comes by with two menu cards and a vase for the flowers. Chloe reads through the menu carefully, pretending to know what kind of food hides behind the fancy French names. Lucifer sees right through her, sighs, and orders some hors d’œuvres, two of something she couldn’t pronounce if she tried, and a bottle of red.

‘So, were you stuck in traffic, or…?’ Chloe asks him with a glint in her eye as the waiter pours her a generous glass of wine. The celestial being with the supernatural metabolism can drive home.

The being in question looks confused for a moment before he answers, ‘Ah, no. I’m sorry I kept you waiting.’ For a brief second, he looks at her as if he’s apologising for more than tonight, but she strokes his knuckles and smiles at him, you’re here now, and he moves on to explain himself. ‘I just couldn’t find this bloody suit. Only when I’d ransacked the house did I realise it was still at the penthouse, so I had to make a detour.’

He is a little excused; so many things are impossible to find right now, with more or less unpacked boxes spread out between her apartment, Lux, and their new home. In hindsight, moving in together while taking over the almighty family business probably wasn’t the best idea, but they’ll get settled soon enough. Besides, right now, what’s important is that Lucifer was late because of a wardrobe crisis, and she will not let that slide.

‘You couldn’t just wear one of your three hundred other suits?’

A flicker of hurt and sheepishness flashes across Lucifer’s face.

‘Well, this one is special.’

Chloe takes in his suit: the navy jacket, the matching waistcoat, the royal blue shirt.

‘Oh.’

He smirks at her as heat creeps up her cheeks (so much for not being a schoolgirl).

‘You remember?’

She does. Of course, she does. She remembers vividly—how shocked he’d been at first, how new and soft his lips had felt against hers. How they’d held onto each other until the sun was setting and she really did have to go home and feed Maze and Trixie.

She also remembers how she, later, behind closed lids, had ripped off the shirt and waistcoat in desperate need. How it’d earned her a husky chuckle and a breathy ‘D’tective!’, and the sinful Heaven that was his hot and open mouth.

‘You okay, darling?’ Lucifer looks at her, his expression somewhere between concerned and amused. His thumb brushes the back of her hand.

Chloe takes a sip of wine and clears her throat. Adjusts her necklace.

‘Yeah, just, you know. Reminiscing.’

He studies her flushed face for a second before his curious smile spreads into a full-blown Cheshire grin.

‘You had a wet dream about me, didn’t you?! After our first kiss?’

Chloe glares at him. ‘Say it a little louder for the people in the back, will ya?’ He opens his mouth, and she immediately feels the need to clarify, ‘Do not say it a little louder for the people in the back.’

His smile doesn’t falter. ‘I’m just ecstatic to know our first kiss left you all hot and bothered. I mean, not that I’m surprised.’ He brings his wine glass to his lips and lets go of her hand to gesture down himself.

Chloe rolls her eyes. ‘Yeah, like you didn’t go home and wanked yourself blind that night.’

He laughs, surprised by her bluntness, and shamelessly answers, ‘Why, of course I did. That night, other nights. Before and after that kiss. This morning. You serve as quite the spank bank, my dear.’

She definitely doesn’t blush at that. But she does glance down at his waistcoat, at the soft skin and hard muscles she knows hide beneath it. She gives him a slow and dirty smirk, appreciative.

‘You too, baby.’

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, his eyes darkening. Much to Chloe’s satisfaction, his neck and cheeks redden a little. Then he gives her a lopsided grin, smug and impressed.

‘Pray tell, Detective.’ His eyes glide down her face, her chest, her stomach, and slowly back up again.

In another time, she would have given him a stern look and told him it was none of his business, but she doesn’t. She also doesn’t tell him about lonely nights and long showers and crying his name into her pillow when they were still just friends. Instead, she leans across the table and half-whispers—

‘If you behave yourself tonight, I might show you.’

He gulps. Squirms a little in his seat, and—when he’s regained his composure and quite indiscreetly adjusted himself under the table—leans forward till there’s only mere inches between their faces.

‘Is that a promise?’ His voice is low and husky, his breath hot against her face. His eyes drop to her lips.

‘Pardon, monsieur, mais l’entrée est prête.’

They lean back in their seats and turn to the poor, young waiter, who’s balancing two seemingly heavy plates, a carafe of water, and a basket of crusty bread in his arms.

‘Lovely!’ Lucifer’s eyes follow the food as the waiter puts it down in front of them. ‘Merci beaucoup, Olivier.’

Olivier smiles at Lucifer, shy but with a look in his eyes Chloe knows all too well. She doesn’t blame him.

‘Ça va?’ Lucifer asks, his voice lined with genuine fondness.

Olivier nods. ‘Oui, ça va. Et toi?’

Lucifer looks to Chloe, beaming. He takes her hand on the table and interlocks their fingers again.

‘Tout va très bien,’ he answers, looking back up at Olivier with a dazzling smile.

Olivier’s eyes drop to their hands and, probably, to the ring, white and pearlescent, on Chloe’s third finger. His lips tug up at the corner.

‘Je peux voir ça. Félicitations!’ Before Lucifer can respond to that, whatever it means, Olivier gestures towards their food. ‘Et bon appétit.’

Lucifer replies with a friendly ‘merci’ and calls out something like ‘Salue ton père de ma part!’ as Olivier walks off.

Chloe stares at Lucifer, twirling the smashed bullet around her neck between her fingers.

‘What?’ he asks, curious.

She tilts her head, smiling. ‘French suits you.’

He smiles back, lasciviously. ‘Yeah?’

‘Mm-hm.’

The look he gives her leaves no doubt that, sooner or later, he’ll be whispering foreign phrases against her skin.

But right now, they have other appetites to sate. They dig into the first course, and the (assumedly) insanely high prices suddenly make sense, because it is frigging good. The main course is even more delicious—divine, actually, to the point where Chloe has to ask Lucifer if he accidentally spiked the food with a blessing or two. He assures her it’s all Olivier’s father, no holiness involved, apart from Chef Beaumont’s heavenly cœeur de filet de bœuf. Chloe moans in agreement, savouring every bite.

He watches her with a smile, jokingly apologising for not serving her grilled cheese, and she makes a bad joke about this date being cheesy enough as it is. Because it is cheesy. Him buying her a dress, bringing her red roses, the love note, the candlelit restaurant, the French food, not to mention the suit. It’s like a rom-com parody.

But it’s also perfect. It’s everything she’s longed for, an over-the-top romantic date night with her- with her partner. A date that isn’t cut short by a horny stewardess (may she rest in peace) or a failed attempt at exorcism; where Lucifer actually shows up and isn’t just trying to outdo another man; where Chloe isn’t trying to make him ‘do something good for a change’; and their parents aren’t tagging along on a headache-inducing surprise double date that is also a sting in disguise.

So, in some ways, it is kinda their first date.

And it’s a really, really nice date.

They laugh—they laugh so much. More than they’ve done in the past few months combined. Or so it feels, at least.

They laugh, and they talk. About movies they cried to, favourite drinks, and how they’re gonna paint the living room. About the summers spent under the plum tree in Nana’s garden, and all the pranks pulled in the gilded meadows of Heaven. About chasing Amenadiel through the clouds, and how Chloe always wanted a sibling. About her short-lived Hollywood experience and that one time she may have gotten a little high at a Backstreet Boys concert. (He seems impressed by that, her ‘abhorrent’ taste in music aside.) They exchange secrets they never told anyone, stories of bad kisses—Jed used too much tongue; Will was always better with words—and tales from drunken nights out. They reminisce on the first time they met—how annoying she’d found him, how compelling he’d found her—and the many, many cases, some really weird, that first encounter led to.

They talk about Dan.

About missing him, even though he’s making waffles with Charlotte now.

About Trixie, and how therapy seems to be helping her, too. How she still sometimes breaks down crying, but no longer crawls into their bed in the middle of the night, shaking and gasping for air. How she’d laughed the other day, and it’d made them both cry. How incredibly strong she is, that little urchin.

They talk about going to Paris one day, all three of them—the French do make excellent chocolate cakes—or maybe somewhere else she wants to see, once everything is calmer. They talk about some of the prayers Lucifer has been hearing, about faith and free will, what they miss about solving crimes together, what they don’t miss, and how they’re still very much partners, even more so now—in every corner of life.

They talk till their cheeks hurt from smiling and Chloe’s half-drunk on expensive Burgundy. Lucifer asks for the cheque, their food long gone, and pays with cash, making sure to leave a tip possibly the size of Olivier’s monthly salary.

They leave the restaurant giggling about a stupid joke Lucifer makes, his hand splayed out on the small of her back. Her own hand is placed much lower than what is decent for such a fancy place like this, practically cupping his ass, but she’s tipsy enough not to care, and he doesn’t seem to mind the attention. It’s his own fault, anyway, for having his pants tailored to hug his butt like this.

Naturally, Lucifer drives. He doesn’t hold back his comments on how slow and boring her car is, but at least he stays somewhere close to the speed limit. She wishes he’d also wear a seatbelt, and keep both hands on the wheel, but his palm is nice and warm on her thigh, and she trusts he’ll get them home safely. She leans back in her seat, her head comfortably buzzing from wine and him, and watches the blurry city lights through the window. He’s turned down 2ndStreet.

‘Where are we going?’ She looks over at him, curious.

He smiles in the shadows, his fingers stroking the skin left exposed by the slit in her dress. His touch leaves hot, tingling paths on her thigh.

‘I thought we’d go for a second desert.’

Chloe is beyond full, her dress stretched over her now slightly rounder belly, and she can think of other things she’d rather do (things that include pinning Lucifer to their bed and making him groan and beg and laugh), but she’ll never say no to a freshly brewed latte and watching Lucifer obscenely enjoy some Sicilian pastry.

She turns up the radio, fumbling a bit, and closes her eyes with a smile, more content than she’s been in… a long time. His hand stays on her thigh as they move through the night, fingers tapping to the beat of the songs against her skin, creeping higher, teasing, just enough to make her breath hitch, but nothing more, and then back down again. Maybe they’ll just take that latte to-go.

The car comes to a final halt, and first then does Chloe realise they haven’t stopped outside the late-night café and bakery that’s opened down on Spring Street.

‘Lucifer, what’—she looks around, double-checking—‘what are we doing at the back entrance to the precinct? You said we were getting desert.’

He leans across the centre console, fingers spreading on her thigh, and brings their faces so close their noses touch. Chloe swallows.

‘We are,’ he assures her with a wolfish grin, his gaze lingering hungrily on her, and she could jump him right then and there. But he takes his hand off her body and clicks her seatbelt free, pulls the key out of the ignition and exits the car. He strides to her side and opens the door for her, gentlemanly as ever, and she watches him with narrowed eyes as she takes his hand and steps out, sceptical even in her cloud of lust and inebriation.

He heads directly for the back entrance and opens the black iron door with ease, rudely ignoring the state-of-the-art security locks. A part of her knows she should stop him right there and give him a stern talking-to about respecting human laws—he still can’t do whatever the hell he likes just because he’s God now. But another part, the part of her who helped him empty two bottles of French wine, really wants to step over that threshold, to intertwine their fingers and go on a late-night adventure. And that part of her must overpower the other, because she lets him snake his arm around her waist and lead her through the door and inside the familiar building.

She senses him grinning by her side, his fingers curling around her hip in a deliciously tight grip that only stokes the heat pooling low in her belly. He takes her down the corridor, around the corner, and then they’re there, in the middle of the precinct. Everything is covered in darkness, the wide, open space only illuminated by a never-resting info screen and the purplish glow from the vending machine. Still, she can make out the shape of their desk, the door to Ella’s lab, the interrogation room. The fridge in the breakroom still hums obnoxiously, and the air smells like strong coffee and sugary glaze—or maybe that’s just a phantom. Either way, it all tugs at her heart, beckons her down memory lane, and she lets herself be pulled. Through the good, the bad, and the crazy.

Lucifer is quiet beside her, probably lost in nostalgia himself, or maybe just letting her have this moment. But not for long. With titillating eagerness and a devilish smirk, he wraps his fingers around her wrist and pulls her by the hand—towards the evidence closet.

He presses her up against the door, his body hot and hard against hers, and pins her hand against the cold glass of the frosted window. His dark eyes sparkle with mischievous excitement.

‘There’s something we never got to try.’

Her pulse quickens, blood humming loud and hot.

‘Lucifer, we can’t.’ She tries to sound firm around her suddenly heavy breaths and dry throat, but he doesn’t seem discouraged in the least.

He leans in, closer, his smirking lips brush against her ear. ‘Can’t we, now?’

And as if he hadn’t done enough already, he takes her earlobe between his teeth and bites it.

Chloe smothers a gasp.

‘We shouldn’t.’ She puts her hand on his chest and pushes her head against his, nudging him away from her neck so she can thinkfor a second. He reluctantly obeys and settles for placing his hands on her sides, dangerously high, thumbs almost stroking the underside of her breasts. She pushes his hands down to her waist. ‘We shouldn’t have sex in Evidence—shouldn’t have broken into the precinct in the first place. I mean, do you want us to get arrested?’

He only laughs at that, of course. ‘I’m God, darling. I won’t get arrested.’

Chloe rolls her eyes. He would probably charm his way out of it if they were caught, God or not—but that doesn’t make any of this okay. She’s about to tell him as much when he adds-

‘But if you wanted to cuff me and tell me what to do, resisting would be the last thing on my mind. In fact, I’m sure we can find some cuffs lying about-’

‘Lucifer, no.’

Her tone is sharper than she’d intended. He pulls back a little, studying her face. His eyes flicker to her parted lips, her flushed, heaving chest, and then back to her determined gaze. His brows furrow.

‘Do you really not want to do this?’ His voice is soft, serious.

They stare at each other, hot breaths mingling. He’s still pressed up against her, a six-foot-three wall of muscle and love, and his scent—spicy cologne and smoke—floods her head like ambrosia, a dizzying fog of him. Her skin burns beneath his palms, his touch sending embers through the expensive fabric and down, flames licking at her inner thighs. Her heartbeat thumps in her ears.

‘We don’t even work here anymore,’ she rasps, deflecting his question. It’s a weak excuse, but she is fraying at the edges.

A salacious smile forms on Lucifer’s face. ‘We’ll just pretend we do.’

He takes a step back, putting a more ‘professional’ distance between them, adjusts his lapels and attempts at a neutral expression. ‘You wanted to show me something in Evidence, Detective?’

And there’s that word again, want—because she still hasn’t answered his question and her consent means more to him than anything. She loves him for that, she really does, but right now, it’s not that simple. She wants, every cell in her body wants, wants him to shove her into that closet and take her apart. Has wanted it for so long, thought about it for years—at her desk, in the shower, while sitting next to him during interrogations. Thought about it in the self-same evidence closet, as she was pressed up against the wall by someone else. Imagined tugging at his hair, feeling him between her legs—even had to swallow his name. She still thinks about it, thought about it the other night, briefly, wistfully, while making a cup of tea. Thought about how much fun they could have had, sneaking off to secret corners of the precinct like two horny teenagers—if it hadn’t been for, well, mostly Michael, and all the chaos he’d released upon their lives.

In fact, it’s only fair they have at least one reckless, semi-public rendezvous. Just one. To make up for the honeymoon phase they never really had. With all the hurt and heartbreak they’ve had to go through, alone and together, they deserve to have one night of stupid fun.

On the other hand, and this is why it’s not that simple, it’s a bad idea. It’s a really bad idea. And also, pretty illegal. If she asked him to, if she said no now, he would take her home and push her up against the nearest surface, bury himself in her faster than any of them could get their clothes off, bring her to ecstasy-

But it’s not the same. It just isn’t.

With as much innocence she can muster, she looks up at his anticipatory face and puts her hand on the doorknob. The cold steel is a soothing balm against her burning skin.

‘I do want to show you something in Evidence.’

He lights up like it’s a declaration of love, all unrestrained enthusiasm.

‘After you, darling.’

Their lips crash against each other before the door is even closed. He pushes her backwards in the semi-darkness, between shelves and boxes, hands low on her hips. His fingers dig softly into her ass as they stumble towards a sliver of wall together, panting and laughing against each other’s mouths. He doesn’t break contact with her lips as he quickly sheds his jacket on the way and throws it over his shoulder, for the moment uncaring of dirt and creases. Then her back hits the wall with a thunk and she’s instantly struck by déjà vu, until Lucifer grabs her thigh inside the slit of her dress, and the unwelcome memory quickly evaporates in the heat of their clashing bodies as he wraps her bare leg around his waist and pins her to the wall with the hard press of his hips. Their unison groans fill the cramped space.

‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she murmurs breathlessly against his lips before opening her mouth to let his tongue back in. He tastes like wine and crème brûlée.

He hums in disagreement. ‘We should always be here, Detective.’ With the hand still on her ass, he pushes their bodies impossibly closer together and rocks against her. She moans, despite herself.

‘We- I-‘ Chloe stammers, leaning her head back as he kisses his way down her neck, her mind and body pulling in different directions. ‘This is- why am I letting you get away with this?’

She feels him smirk against her throat. His hand slowly glides up her inner thigh—her pulse quickening with every inch—until his thumb brushes past damp fabric.

‘Because you like me.’ His beard rasps against her hot skin in the crook of her neck, a contrast to his soft lips placing slow, open-mouthed kisses from her jaw to her collar. ‘Because you love me.’

Chloe scoffs.

‘Do I love you?’ she questions, her breathing erratic, her eyes turned to the ceiling as he sucks a mark onto her neck. With the hand that is still between her legs, he pushes her underwear to the side and rubs against her, nice and slow. ‘Yes.’ Her gasped answer has a proud, almost victorious chuckle rumbling from his chest.

‘But do I like you?’—she bites her lip and stifles another moan as his fingers press just right—‘That’s still up for debate.’

He breaks off the assault on her neck and looks up at her, eyes black with desire.

‘Allow me to try and tip the scales, then.’

She’s bereaved of his fingers as his hand moves to the edge of her underwear, pulling it down as he sinks to his knees. She almost stumbles when he slips it over her feet, but he grabs her leg, steadying her, and helps her out of her stilettos. Once she’s barefoot, his warm palms slide up the side of her legs, pushes the hem of her dress up a few inches, and then his mouth is on her.

He licks her, slowly, tenderly. She reaches down to pull at his hair, commanding him to give her more, to take more, and he does. He starts feasting on her, all tongue and lips and-

‘God, yes.’

He chuckles smugly into her core. ‘I do love it when you moan my name, darling.’ Eyes fixed on hers, he gives her a nice, long lick before he dives back in. He kisses her clit, sucks it, circles it, laps at her like he can’t get enough, and she’s reduced to a quivering, whimpering mess. She bucks against his face, needing more, and he does that thing that she likes, tongue flicking her clit, warm and wet, as he pushes a finger inside her.

Her eyes clench shut, her head falls back against the wall. She doesn’t bother holding back her groan this time.

Lucifer hums against her, low and greedy, taking as much as he can, before he pulls away with ragged breaths. ‘Ma déesse, que tu as bon gout.’

The meaning is forever lost on her, but his hungry tone, the way his tongue wraps smoothly around the French syllables, the words dripping like sin from his glistening lips, sends warm shivers down her spine.

He slows down his pace inside her, places kisses on her lower belly, seeks her ticklish spots and the ones that make her breath hitch, and then trails down to her hips, studying her sharp bone with his lips and his teeth, before moving down to her thigh, stubble prickling her tender skin. As if he’s got all the time in the world, he lets his mouth travel to the insides of her legs, already spread for him, and kisses a path up her inner thighs, getting closer and closer to where she aches with need,but never quite there. His finger, still moving slowly—too slowly—curls a bit, reaches that spot deep inside her that usually makes her see stars, but he pulls back before she’s even done gasping.

‘Lucifer,’ she breathes, a threat and a plea.

He places one last kiss to her sensitive thigh, nuzzles his nose against her heat, before his tongue finally finds her clit again and his finger starts pumping inside her, fast and hard. Then faster, harder, and, fuck, deeper.

‘Baby,’ she begs him to continue, fire spreading through her body, from her curling toes to her already heated cheeks.

He slows down for a second, and she reaches down to scratch at his scalp in frustration but quickly forgives him when he adds another finger and resumes his perfect pace, thrusting up in her to the beat of her racing heart.

‘Je veux te faire jouir.’ His thumb replaces his tongue as he looks up at her, eyes sparkling with lust and determination, but also patience. Like he could do this for hours, the whole night, as long as she falls apart around his tongue and fingers in the end.

He doesn’t need all night, though. She’s close, so close, can feel the beginning of that blissful high burning in her lower belly, between her thighs, where his mouth licks and nibbles and sucks. A building warmth pumping through her veins. She grabs at his hair, wraps her leg around his shoulder and pushes his face closer into her heat, needing that last-

‘Fuck, right there,’ she gasps. Right there right there right there.

He smirks against her, always eager to please, and does as she says. As she’s teetering on the edge, he curls both fingers inside her, goes impossibly deeper, and reaches the same spot as before, except this time, he doesn’t stop, and she comes with a shudder and a gasped ‘fuck!’ as he licks her through it.

‘Tu es tellement belle, ma chérie,’ he tells her, voice soft with awe as she comes down from her high and opens her eyes. She understands enough of the words to smile down at him, at his dishevelled hair, his swollen lips, and warm, chocolatey eyes.

‘You too, baby.’

She still hasn’t caught her breath when he, after wiping his mouth on her thigh, slowly rises from his feet and starts making his way up her body. His fingers skate lightly up her dress, his knuckles brushing against her rising and falling ribs as his hands sneak higher and higher, closer and closer. With a feather-light touch, he starts tracing the curves of her breasts, deliberately avoiding her aching nipples. He teases her with his fingers, kisses her neck, lips trailing, hot and slow, up to her jaw and the sensitive spot behind her earlobe.

‘J’ai envie de toi,’ he says into her ear, his voice rough with want and determination.

Chloe can’t take it anymore. She fists his waistcoast in one hand and grabs him by the hair with the other to pull him up into a hard kiss. He tries to stay in control, to hold back his obvious desire for just a little longer, but he quickly loses the battle and lets a bit of hunger take over. They pour equal heat into the kiss, tongues pressing and teeth clashing as their mouths slide against each other. She threads her fingers through his curls, he bites her lip, and they both groan and gasp into the kiss.

Chloe’s the one to pull away, needing air sooner than him. They’re looking into each other’s eyes, both panting, when he says it again, ‘J’ai envie de toi.’ This time, breathy desperation shines through his voice. ‘Je veux être en toi.’

And then they’re kissing again and both of them are working at his belt and pants in a flurry of hands until he’s finally inside her with one quick thrust. He fills her to the hilt, deliciously stretching her inner muscles, warm and hard. For a moment, they’re both so overcome they can only pause and breathe, Lucifer’s forehead cradled in the crook of her shoulder as her hand gently strokes the short hairs on the back of his neck.

He pulls back to look deeply into her eyes, and starts off slow. Not teasing, just tender. He kisses her cheeks and neck, every inch of skin he can reach with his lips, and whispers sweet nothings against her skin. She can’t know for sure, of course, because it’s still in French, and she doesn’t catch all of it, the sounds alien and muffled—‘t’es incroyable’, she hears, ‘j’suis fou amoureux de toi’—but something about his tone tells her it’s not as dirty as whatever he was saying before. Still, it makes her just as wet, the words tingling across her skin.

He picks up the pace, wraps her legs tighter around him, and pushes her harder against the wall. His hand grasps her breast roughly, seeking purchase, then rhythmically strokes over her nipple in apology, and she moans her relief. The shelves on either side of them hit the wall with a consistent thump, thump, thump as he thrusts up into her, fucks her, their harsh pants mingling in the small space between their parted lips. Chloe claws at Lucifer’s shoulders and back, hands scrambling for something to hold onto. Even through the two layers of fabric, she can feel his warmth and muscles, and a sudden urge bubbles up within her. With desperate fingers, she starts undoing the buttons on his shirt, but it takes too long—she needs him—so she rips open both shirt and waistcoat and frantically pushes them off his shoulders. He pins her against the wall with a hard thrust, letting go of her thigh and breast to shake the material onto the floor, and Chloe scratches at his finally bare back and shoulders, nails digging into slick, freckled flesh. She arches back into the wall and bares her neck for him to nip and kiss.

‘Fuck, Lucifer!’ she whines. ‘Oh, God, baby, fuckyes!’

He growls at the sound of her noises and bites her ear.

‘J’adore baiser avec toi.’ One hand slides down to her ass, holding her and pushing her dress higher up as the other bites into the now bare skin at her waist. The sharp touch sends a jolt down to her throbbing clit, making her clench tighter around him. ‘J’adore ton corps. T’es vraiment une déesse.’ The last word is a groan against her lips as he kisses her.

It’s wet, messy, and so delicious they both grasp tightly onto each other’s mouths with lips, tongues and teeth, neither of them wanting to ever let go.

‘Je veux t’embrasser,’ Lucifer pants when they break apart for a second, his gaze fixed on her mouth as their lungs fight for air. His dark eyes soften when they look into hers. ‘Chaque jour de ma vie,’ he adds reverently as he leans in. ‘Pour toujours.’ And then he kisses her again, like he wants it to last for all eternity.

His thrusts turn slower and deeper as they kiss, harder, until kissing becomes panting into each other’s mouths and Chloe’s head falls back in sheer pleasure. He tightens his grip on her ass and runs the hand on her waist up her side, brushing his thumb over her nipple as he passes her breast, up her neck, and cups the side of her face. She lets their eyes meet, and the way he’s looking at her, with absolute awe and gratitude, makes her heart flutter and her hips buck against his bare stomach. Her hands slide from where they’ve been clutching his mess of a hair to his back, trailing down to where he’s most sensitive. She places her palms on either side of his spine and presses lightly, carefully.

‘Tu me-’ he cuts off with a gasp when her nails skim over his hidden wings, ‘Tu me rends- fucking hell, Chloe.’

She keens at the guttural sound of her name. He leans his forehead against hers with a grunt, the slight change in angle making his rhythm falter, one hand slamming against the wall next to her. She watches the rest of his control slip through glazed eyes. She did this to him. She rendered God himself lost to his own bliss. That knowledge itself is nearly enough to push her over the edge.

‘Close,’ she breathes.

He grabs both her thighs with strong hands and presses her flush up against the wall, going impossibly deeper inside her. She hisses through her teeth and sputters all kinds of incoherent, unholy prayers into the sweltering air between them. Every hard thrust pushes her closer to ecstasy.

‘You make me so happy,’ Lucifer whispers, sounding so wrecked and raw her eyes clench shut. ‘I want- I hope- fuck- I hope I make you, nnf, just as happy.’

‘You do, baby. You make me so- so-’

Heat floods her veins as she comes, the sweet tension snapping all at once. She cries out, arches her back, and moans long and low as he continues to fuck her through it. His thrusts are quick and inelegant, his arms and thighs trembling, and she knows he’s close. She intentionally clenches around him, whispers his name, and then he too is tumbling over the edge, the only type of falling she ever wants him to feel again.

They smile at each other as they try to catch their breaths, sweaty foreheads still pressed together.

‘I love you,’ he says. ‘So much.’

She hums with happiness, her heart pleasantly aching at the sound of the words he couldn’t say the last time they were here.

‘I love you too, babe.’ She reaches up to lazily nuzzle the hairs at the nape of his neck, still smiling.

‘Maybe you even like me?’

She lets out a breathy chuckle and slides down the wall to land on her bare feet. Her legs are… wobbly, to say the least. Lucifer smirks at her.

‘We’ll see about that.’ She smoothes out her dress as he tucks himself back into his pants and fastens his belt. ‘If anyone ever finds out about this, your chances are pretty bad, buddy.’

She collects his clothes from the floor and helps him into his shirt. Two buttons are missing, lost to the force of her hasty ripping. It gives her an odd sense of satisfaction, the fact that the shirt he wore when they first kissed—the shirt she dreamt of tearing off his body—now is marked by their little escapade. (At least until he gets his tailor to fix it.)

‘Well, I’ll just have to keep trying to convince you then, won’t I?’ He licks his lips and lifts his eyebrows as he offers her a hand to help her up from the floor once she’s put her shoes back on. Chloe bites her cheek so as to not smile at his suggestion and intertwines their fingers.

‘You can start by helping me assemble that new shelf system tomorrow,’ she tells him, waiting for him to groan in response, or mumble something about hiring some people to do it for them. But he doesn’t. He just opens the door for her and lets her go first with a soft smile on his still flushed face.

‘Anything for you, my love.’

The door shuts with a gentle click behind them.

[spencessmile]

Mi Amour

Pairing - Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader 

Summary - Spencer finds out what Valentine's day actually means to you. 

Warnings - Slight mentions of death, but mostly fluff. 

Word Count - 1,791

And all imagines/fanfics/blurbs are written solely by me so please don't steal my work and/or post it without my consent. Feedback and Comments are welcome. Happy reading! 

A/N - HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!! 

Requests are CLOSED!

** 

“Spencer!” You kicked the door with your foot, “Come on, I can’t feel my damn arms,” You were juggling 4 bags of food on one arm as the other held enough alcohol to serve 100 people. “Spen-” The door flew open, revealing Spencer as he fixed his hair. “Help me!” You shoved past him, handing him the alcohol. You set down the food on the table, pulling out the chair and having a seat. 

“We could have just ordered this stuff, you know?” 

“We could have but I haven’t left my apartment in four days and I needed some fresh air.” 

“How much food did you buy?” 

“Oh, you’ll probably have loads of leftovers. Like Papa Rossi always says more food is better than less food.” 

“Did you happen to go to the grocery store and buy -” 

“Double stuffed Oreos and whipped cream? Yeah, the first thing I crossed off my list.” 

“You’re the best,” He beamed, skimming through the bags. 

“Oh,” You chuckle. “I know.” 

“How were the grocery stores?” He asked.

You shake your head as Spencer looks at you in amusement “Everyone is so giddy and full of fluff.” 

“Fluff?” Spencer laughed at your choice of word. 

“Yeah, holding hands, kissing in public, smiling with their teeth, being extra freaking nice, buying all the damn chocolate and different colored flowers in the world. Don’t even get me started on the damn stuffed teddy bears.” 

“Who did you buy these for?” He pulls a nice yellow bouquet out of the bag alongside a vase. 

“For you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because you need some colour in your life besides this were half off and I felt so ridiculous standing in that damn aisle. So, make sure they live longer than a week.” 

“On it,” You watched Spencer fill the case with water, adding the flower food, mixing it up, cutting off the ends of the stems, adding the flowers in the vase as he placed it in the middle of his small dining table. 

“Mmm,” Spencer stood behind your chair. “They do look nice.” 

“Yeah, they do.” You nod. 

“Did you bring the movies?” 

“Oh yes!” You reach for the bag on the far end. “It’s Disney night.” 

“101 Dalmatians, Aladdin, Alice in Wonderland, Bambi and Bambi II, Beauty and the Beast, Cinderella, Dumbo, Finding Dory, Finding Nemo, Lion King, and Coco,” Spencer reads out all the movies. 

“Just some of my favorites.” 

“These are just some?” Spencer raises his eyebrow at you.

“Disney and Disney Pixar have the best movies. Hands down. Don’t even argue with me on this.” Spencer nods, “Listen, I could have rented out the whole shelf at the shop but I controlled myself.” 

“I bet.” He nods. “Alright, which one should we watch first?” 

“I picked last time so your turn,” You watched Spencer flip through the movies until he landed on Coco. 

“I’ve never watched this one,” You looked at him shocked. “What?” 

“Oh my god, where do you keep your tissues?” 

“What why?” 

“Trust me, you're going to need them. You're going to need lots of them.” 

** 

Spencer and you sat on the couch, after watching the movie, boxes of sushi in both of your laps, eating in comfortable silence. You could feel Spencer’s eyes on every once in a while. 

“What is it, Spencer?” You asked. 

Spencer set down his drink and rubbing his neck. “Can I ask you a question?” 

“Shoot,” You replied. 

“Why don't you like Valentine’s day?” 

You had a feeling that Spencer would ask this question but you weren’t quite sure how you were going to answer it without breaking down, you didn't expect yourself to. 

“You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to but I just always wondered. I’ve known you for 6 years and every year we do the same thing. You come over to my house with way too much food and alcohol. We sit here together and watch movies.”

“Are you saying that you don’t like my company?” You pretended to play hurt, just to pull Spencer’s leg. He immediately set down his sushi box and faced you. 

“N-No. That n-not what I meant. I didn-t mean to hu-hurt your feelin-” You laughed at how quick he panicked at your words. “Why are you laughing?” 

“No reason,” You set aside your box, grabbing your wine glass and settling down on the sofa again. "When I was younger my mom would love celebrating Valentine's day and she would celebrate it with everyone, not just my dad. I would wake up to the smell of bacon, pancakes, her famous buttery and cheese eggs, and cherry pie. My siblings and I would help her set up the table. Once everything used to be set, we'd make our way to their room and wake up my dad. We'd have a tickle war and jus-" You feel the tears pressing as you take a deep breath before continuing. "I remember laying there for several minutes, taking in the comfortable and peaceful silence of our little family. We'd have breakfast, play games, and simply spent the day with one another. We did the tradition every year growing up. When I was young, I asked my mom why she always celebrated Valentine's with us and never just our dad and she said 'Valentine's day isn't meant to be spent with just one person you love, it's meant to be shared with everyone you love. That there is always enough love within you to want to share it with others.' I mean, they could have dropped my siblings and me off at my grandma's and left to celebrate the day on their own, but she never did. She always chose to include us." 

Spencer was intently listening as you continued. "Every year I used to look forward to this stupid day, but one morning I woke up and my life changed forever." Spencer grabbed onto your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. "I was at my grandmother's the night before Valentine's, my parents and siblings were coming to pick me up but when I woke up in the morning I remember my grandma looking at me and without her saying anything, I just knew. It has never been the same since then." 

"Y/n," Spencer moved closer. "First off, I'm sorry about your family," You nod, you never once mentioned them to anyone on the team, it was far too painful for you. "Secondly, even though you're not going to believe me, what happened to your family isn't your fault." 

"Isn't it?" 

"No," Spencer shakes his head as the tears come streaming down your face. 

"They still would have been alive Spencer! If it weren't for me, they'd still be here. They'd be here with me, today. I would have been at home but now I don-" Spencer wraps his arms around you, rubbing your back. You stay like for a minute before pulling back. "Sorry, I did-" 

"You don't have to apologize." 

"The following year on this day I remember being so upset because I woke up to nothing. It was just quiet. I felt so empty and it just hurt so much. I just hated the fact that the one day that bought us together as a family was the same day that ripped them away from my hands. Ever since then, I've had this love-hate relationship with this day." 

Even after all these years of you convincing yourself that what happened to your family wasn't your fault, you couldn't help but think it was your fault. If they weren't on the road that morning, then you'd still have them. 

"I sulked around every year on Valentine's day until one day, I realized that my mom would have been so upset to see me doing that. She always celebrated that day with music, food, movies, and love. So, I decided to celebrate it just like she would have. Before I joined the team, I used to go out buy loads of takeout, grab a couple of my parent's favorite red wine bottles," You raise your glass. "I'd play our favorite music, watch the same movies we'd watch together, and stuff my face with food. It sort of became my tradition, my thing." 

Spencer's inside exploded as he noticed your smile getting bigger as you talked about your family. "I like that." 

"What?" 

"That you kept the tradition alive." 

"Me too." You beamed. 

"But why did you decided to share your sole tradition with me?" 

"I know that you and your mom probably spent loads of holidays and special days together up until you had to make the tough decision to put her in a care home. After that you probably didn't spend many special days with her," Spencer remains silent at your words. "So I took it upon myself to share the love with you because if my parents knew you, they'd love you. Even though it was rarely said I knew that my parents and sibling loved me a lot, so I decided to share some of that love with you because god Spencer, you deserve it." 

Spencer's heart was bursting at your words, he never heard anyone say anything sweeter. "Thank you." 

"For what?" 

"For sharing your love with me," You smiled.

"They're proud of you, you know that?" 

"I hope," You chuckle. 

"They should be because they raised one hell of a human being. Going through what you did and still having love to share, that's a difficult thing to do." 

"Yeah, I guess." 

"Let's toast," Spencer raised his glass. 

"To what?" 

"You shared your love with me so now I'm going to share my love with you," You looked at Spencer confused, he put down both glasses and leaned forward, your faces inches away from one another. He rubbed the tip of his nose with yours, giving you enough time to pull away, but you don't, instead, you wrap your hands around his neck. Soon after, his lips clash with yours as he pulls you closer. You wrap your legs around his waist. Pulling back you rest your forehead against his, "What was that?" Your heart was racing, eyes a little blurry as your mind was a little fuzzy from the wine. 

"Just sharing the love, mi amour." 

** 

All you have to do now, is listen to your soul - Seeker

[katrina765]

++++

summary: you and reggie have always been good friends. being the manager for sunset curve had its perks, one of which included growing close to all the boys. one night reggie lets his feelings for you slip. how will you react?

song: testify

pairings: reggie x reader[platonic] maybe;)

words: 3.3k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, drinking, swearing, angst, pining, fluff towards the end

a/n: i’m sorry this took so long. i’ve been super busy with school and my motivation hasn’t been the best, but we made it! finally finished testify, so enjoy:) [for plot purposes we’re saying y/n lives in bobby’s house and owns the studio-garage]

++++

he’s lying awake trying to contemplate what this all means. he’s known how he’s felt for so long and yet he can never find the right words to say to you. you always manage to steal his breath away by barely doing anything. you walk into a room, his face lights up and suddenly his palms are sweaty. he’s amazed with the way you speak. it’s as if silk were a sound and it were projecting from your lips.

your lips.

what he’d do just to get a taste, a feel. the poor boy has dreamt of the way they’d fit perfectly against his. he’d imagine the way you’d move in sync with him. it all felt so real and yet he knew if he never built up the courage to talk to you, he wouldn’t get the chance to make those dreams realities.

++++

“luke!” you called, crossing the cramped studio towards the lead singer. he was shouting over the music to a girl who practically clung to his arm. you watched as she batted her eyelashes and took another sip from her red solo cup. “luke!”

you reached the pair, earning a pointed glare from the petite girl. luke hesitantly looked at you, guilt already painting his features.

“can i help you, sweetheart?” she took a step forward, clearly bothered that you interrupted her conversation.

“find someone else to bother, babe.” you roughly grabbed luke’s hand, leading him towards a less crowded area. he gave the girl an apologetic wave before she stormed off towards the drinks table.

“she was really pretty, y/n.” luke groaned, tossing his cup into a nearby bin.

“luke, you said this was only going to be a few people! do you know how big of a mess i’m going to have to clean up? my parents are going to be up my ass when they come home!”

“calm down, y/l/n. have a little fun, get a little drunk! the boys and i will help clean up. scouts honor!”

“you were never a scout- you know what? fine! this is yours to deal with. i may be your official manager, but i’m not your babysitter! have fun with this one, patterson.” and with that you made your way over to a cooler, pulling out a bottle of some fruity drink.

reggie spotted you from a few feet away, his beer abandoned in a corner of the studio. it wasn’t his fault you stole the show wherever you went- even if he was the only one in the audience. his eyes were glued to you and that was how it was. you were completely oblivious to his infatuation with you. that’s how it’s been for years.

the boy watched as you made your way over to alex. he ogled at the way your lips met the rim of the glass bottle, delicately sipping at the liquid.

as you approached the boy in the pink hoodie, his eyes traveled far behind you. they met reggie’s, catching his stare. alex smirked knowingly and nodded to his band mate. reggie hesitated slightly before walking away to grab another beer.

a little liquid luck never hurt anybody. right?

“hey, alex.” you greeted, tilting the bottle back once more. “i thought you weren’t a ‘party person’.”

“i’m not.” he scratched the back of his neck, glancing around the room again.

the studio wasn’t terribly big. normally there was room for your piano, the band’s gear, and a couple couches. sure there was an empty area and a loft, but you never intended to have more than ten people in it at once.

luke’s “small gathering” had turned into a large house party and your poor studio had people so close, they were bumping shoulders. cups were tipped on the floor, bottles strewn about, your mother’s plants pushed to one corner, speakers in the middle of the room blaring some jumbled rock song.

a mess.

“i really only came for luke. he said it was gonna be fun, but i wasn’t expecting so many people.” alex leaned down so you would be able to hear him better.

“yeah.” you rolled your eyes, recalling the conversation you just had with the guitarist. “didn’t really give any of us a heads up. do you wanna-”

a loud crash from across the studio cut you off. in the direction of it, a mixture of cheers and laughs erupted.

with a groan of frustration, you politely excused yourself from the drummer. he flashed you a sympathetic smile as you downed the rest of your drink and walked off.

“hey, man!” reggie took your place next to alex, keeping his eyes on you as he spoke to his bandmate.

alex waved a hand in front of reggie’s face, snapping his fingers a couple times. he chuckled once the bassist finally looked up at him with reddening cheeks.

“if you didn’t want to talk to me, you could have just said so.” alex laughed.

“no- no, i’m sorry.” reggie cleared his throat, taking another sip from his bottle, before continuing. “just a little...”

“distracted?” the boy in the flannel nodded sheepishly. “dude, you have to tell her.”

“you know i can’t do that.”

“why not? everyone sees the way you look at her! it’s better to tell her than to keep it to yourself for another three years.”

reggie took a deep breath. his eyes scanned the crowd in search of you. he watched as you shooed people away from a broken vase- one of your mother’s. you delicately picked up shards of glass, careful not to cut yourself.

“i just don’t want to ruin things with her.” the boy finally exhaled.

“well then at least go help her clean up.” alex’s eyes glimmered with a hint of mischief as he shoved his bandmate in your direction.

reggie stumbled towards you, instinctively smoothing out his jacket. your eyes lit up when the boy reached you. he offered his help and even after you insisted this was your mess to clean up, he stayed and helped you sweep. it was sweet; the gesture. to you it was just a friend helping another friend, but to him, every lingering touch sent a million questions to his mind; was that on purpose? why is she looking at me like that? does she feel the same?

to any onlookers, they’d see the way his cheeks flushed each time your hands accidentally brushed or when you moved to sweep a fallen strand of hair out of your face. reggie was infatuated by you and everyone saw it except you.

“thanks again, reg.” a smile stretched across your face as you tossed the last shards of glass into the bin. reggie had just walked back outside to you with two drinks in his hands; the same fruity drink you had earlier and another beer. “how’d you know these are my favorite?”

“had a hunch.” his cheeks were tinged that familiar pink color, grateful the darkness was there to hide it from your view.

“we should probably get back in there before something else breaks, huh?” you tipped the bottle back, taking another long sip from the sweet drink. as much as you hated the feeling of being drunk and what was to come after, you needed all the liquid courage this bottle had to offer.

reggie tilted his own bottle back, mind racing with a thousand thoughts, but only one that really stood out. for him, it was now or never. the atmosphere was right, there were no distractions- if he didn’t do it now, he’d be kicking himself forever.

i’m losing control now that the alcohol hits my blood flow.

“y/n?” you turned around, walking back towards the bassist.

“everything alright, reggie?” you placed a hand on his shoulder. concern evident in your eyes as you looked up at the flustered boy.

didn’t want to address this, but i really thought that you should know.

“can i tell you something?”

the conversation was short. nothing much said, at least not on your part. it was him who spilled his entire being into one breath. his words hit you quickly, the loud music almost drowning them out entirely. reggie watched as your face fell. you attempted to mask your discomfort with a shy smile; one he knew all too well. it was the same look you’d given so many others before. it was all out there now. his feelings for you, the ones he’d been hiding since he first met the bright, bubbly girl. he’d fallen instantly. now he stood, drink in hand, watching as you walked away. you didn’t feel the same and he knew you never would. his mind ran through everything he could have said to persuade you. “life gets so black and white when i look in your eyes. girl, you just simplify, you make wrong seem so right, turn dark into light.” he’d lost his chance and there was nothing he could do to get it back. if only he’d been better, more charming, would you have felt the same?

++++

he drank that night. reggie tipped bottles back like there was no tomorrow. he drank and drank and drank for the next two weeks.

he knew it was a bad idea- telling you- and yet he did it anyway. alex had suggested it, but it wasn’t his fault. he’d been wanting to do it since before he could remember. it just hurt that you finally knew...and didn’t feel the same.

reggie started skipping band practice. he knew you’d be there, going over gigs you were looking for or just to provide feedback. he couldn’t look you in the eyes without being swarmed with those feelings again. nothing would change for him and he knew that. seeing you there would only make things worse.

the doubt was what ate at him. why wasn’t he good enough? was it something he said? did? there was nothing wrong with you- hell, you were perfect to him- so it had to be something with him, right?

i’ve made a mistake, but this is a whole new kind of rejection.

he could have spoken differently? if he controlled the nerves in his voice he would’ve seemed more put together. what if he said something smoother?

come over here slowly, come get to know my body. got me breaking a sweat ‘cause this is a whole new kind of neglection.

he wouldn’t call it neglect. if anything he was the one avoiding you. it was only after he came back to band practice a month later when he saw it.

you were the only one not to greet him when he walked into the studio last wednesday. reggie didn’t blame you. it was only fair you were a little uncomfortable around him now that you knew it all. so he didn’t mind when you ignored him today.

band practice had started the same as any other day. luke had written a new song and was eager to show you all. alex picked up his parts quickly, reggie was a little distracted, but tried his best to follow along, and you sat on the couch across the room flipping through newspapers and magazines in search of a place that needed an opening band.

“what do you think, y/n?” luke asked, strumming his final chord before placing his guitar back in it’s stand. “stage-worthy?”

“a little choppy on the bass, but otherwise not bad.” you looked up at the boys.

luke, bobby, and alex laughed at your quip, but reggie’s face resembled something of a poorly hidden scowl. in his mind your remark was nothing short of jab back at him. is it bad that he was the slightest bit relieved you even addressed him?

it felt like it had been years since he saw your smile let alone pointed in his direction.

“you heard the girl! pick it up, peters!”

“shut it, luke.” reggie swung his bass back around, ready to play. he glanced quickly up at you to see your eyes already on him. a soft smile rested on your lips as you ducked your head back down to your work.

reggie felt those familiar butterflies arise in him. you still managed to steal his heart even after breaking it.

that’s gotta hurt.

++++

i’m missing you, do you miss me too? i’m missing all your cues ‘cause baby, it’s hot in here and i’m filled with fear, ‘cause i know you don’t like to lose.

“i miss her.” reggie slumped down in his seat, shuffling his shoes gently on the pine floor.

“dude she literally just said she couldn’t make it to bowling.” bobby walked towards his sulking bandmate. he had just completed a turn and glanced back to see the last three pins fall.

it was alex’s go. on his way to the rack of multicolored bowling balls, he patted bobby on the back as a ‘congrats, man!’

“i don’t just mean tonight. after i told her and- and after i ghosted you guys for a couple weeks- sorry about that by the way.” luke dismissively waved him off, nodding for him to continue. “she’s been ignoring me. at first she would at least smile at me, but now she won’t even look in my direction. i know i messed up, but this is just confusing.”

the boys had decided to relax this friday night. after having practice everyday this week and working nonstop, a celebratory pizza and bowling night seemed appropriate. you had actually suggested the small bowling alley a couple towns over for the boys to go. they insisted you come along, but you had already made plans.

they weren’t the only ones with a busy schedule. between managing the band, work, school, and maintaining your own personal relationships, you needed a break. friday was the only night you had free, so you made the most of it. bowling could wait.

“she’s been distancing herself from us too, reggie. not just you.” luke admitted.

“girls are just confusing, man.” reggie looked up at bobby. he tried his hardest to smile along with his friend, but all that was on his mind was you.

he didn’t realize how much it hurt not having you there. it was in that moment when reggie decided keeping you as a friend, would mean he at least kept you in his life. even if your feelings for him never changed, not having you around was worse than losing you.

++++

“is she actually gonna show?”

“dude, why wouldn’t she?” luke and bobby murmured between themselves.

sunset curve stood backstage, tuning their instruments in preparation for their performance. you had spent a couple weeks trying to book this gig. through your hectic schedule you had spent little time at the studio with the boys, but you were still able to ‘work your magic’ -as luke would say- and get them a spot playing at a club.

they were obviously grateful, but seeing as they hardly saw you, they weren’t able to express it. regardless of them practicing in your garage, your time was exhausted running between your work and school.

now you stood front row at the club, waiting for their band- your band- to be announced on stage. little did you know, reggie had been pacing back and forth hoping you’d show. the look on his face once he caught sight of you was one you drilled into your mind.

it was pure joy.

the boys all gave the crowd a quick scan as they reached their instruments. almost at once they all saw you and smiled. their teeth weren’t showing nearly as much as reggie’s, but you could tell they were all ecstatic to see you nonetheless.

to say the performance went smoothly was an understatement. to you, they did phenomenally. it was not only the crowd’s first time hearing some of the songs, but yours as well. the boys were flawless and they knew it. you could practically see the energy radiating off of them as they took their bows.

you took no time in rushing past the crowd to the backstage, waiting eagerly to congratulate the boys.

“you came!” reggie practically leapt off the stage and into your arms.

“good to see you too, peters-” you choked, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“let the poor girl breathe!” bobby chuckled, following the rest of the boys down the steps.

reggie quickly released you, muttering a sequence of apologies. his cheeks burned a bright pink as he finally met your eyes. there was a sort of twinkle he noticed. he couldn’t quite place it as he was blocked from your view, but he saw it nonetheless.

“you guys did amazing up there.” you smiled at the rest of the band. they all took their turn wrapping you up in sweaty hugs.

“no thanks to our amazing manager!” alex cheered.

an assortment of ‘here here’s’ and ‘cheers’ erupted from the boys. they paraded around you, talking over each other as they relived their time on stage from just moments ago.

“celebratory pizza?” luke jumped in question, arms waving towards the door.

“i’m down!”

“you guys comin?” alex nodded towards you and reggie. the two of you stepping away from the group subconsciously.

“we’ll be there in a bit. can i talk to you for a sec, reg?” the three guys behind you exchanged a set of looks. each raising their eyebrows higher than the next. alex was quick to push his bandmates out the door to give the two of you some privacy.

you couldn’t help the blush that crept onto your cheeks as you looked back at reggie. he too had a thin layer of pink dusting his cheeks. the two of you stood for a moment, neither speaking. the seconds between the boys leaving and your first words felt like an eternity.

you shifted from foot to foot, trying to find the right words.

“i just wanted to say-” you started.

“i’m sorry!” the two of you blurted out in unison.

“you first.” you giggled, ducking your head as the boy in front of you stuttered his words.

“ok, ok. i’m sorry for springing all of that onto you a couple months ago and then ditching the band while i drank away my petty feelings. it was pretty shitty- i mean being rejected is pretty shitty too, but the way i reacted was bad. it just hurt because i’ve liked you for so long and when you said you didn’t feel the same, i didn’t know what to do so i hid and-” reggie rambled and only paused to take a breath. you took the opportunity to pipe up.

“reggie...i need to apologize, too. i could have had an actual conversation instead of walking away from you-”

“no!” reggie bounced forward slightly, making you stumble back in laughter. “i mean...your reaction was valid. you probably weren’t expecting it all. you not feeling the same shouldn’t have changed our relationship and i realized that all recently. i’d much rather have you as my manager and friend than lose you completely. so…y/n-” reggie stepped forward again, reaching for your hands. you nervously laced your fingers with his, looking up as he continued on with his dramatic speech. “y/n, will you do me the honor of being my friend?”

you couldn’t help but giggle at his theatrics. reggie was sincere and you could see that. he didn’t want to lose you and even if it was only a month of you two hardly seeing each other, he knew he didn’t want you out of his life.

“reggie…?” your tone scared him. reggie’s eyebrows raised slightly at your sudden seriousness. were you going to leave him right then and there? would you not want to be his friend anymore?

“what if your feelings weren’t all one sided anymore?”

++++

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[fishmongeringstudies]

sixteen is the age at which all things become impossibly hard, annoying, and beautiful

this morning, after upending the last ten days of my life in a big red cart and pushing it halfway across campus to the next six weeks of the same old shit i had the pleasure of watching someone move into the room across the hallway, and as their dad walked past me, carrying a bottle of detergent that looked like it had eaten the souls of four other bottles of detergent and a mega-kilowatt smile, it occurred to me with a strange sense of providence that i hadn't spoken face-to-face with an adult in four months. then i remembered that i was also an adult. then i had to go lie down.

the same things surprise me every day. the number of fingers on each hand. the way the streetlights click to life when the sky gets dark enough to eat the shadows on your arms. my age: a distorted number, like something made by a slipped finger on a wet phone screen. twenty. why not two? why not nothing at all?

summer is, increasingly, beginning to look like an exercise in distances. first there is the distance between my old dormitory and my new. if you cut through the parking lot in front of the stem of the mushroom and follow the path all the way to its end, underneath the train station and past the fringes of the college town we named after ourselves, you will find yourself in front of a set of three dark gray buildings. each building contains six apartment suites and each suite houses between five and six students. this summer, not all of them are full. but you can always count on college students to find a way to fill an empty room. with sounds, with bottles, with bodies. dead bodies. dancing, singing, texting bodies. we're a versatile bunch.

i have neighbors now. is this a bad thing? no. but i am trying to be a different version of myself, and in order to become that person i need to be left alone to fester like a bad wound on a fucked-up arm until the wound grows large enough that it envelops the arm and then the person, too, after which a period of thick wet silence will elapse, followed by some country music, and then-

the novel. this afternoon i sat down with a pen and a blank page in my notebook and made a list of my favorite stories. what is it about the way some people talk about other people that makes my elbows hurt? what causes the soul to shiver? i scratched bullet-points into the paper and stared at them until lines appeared between the dots, until the dots looked like constellations. then i walked the mile to target with a friend whose voice reminds me of the sound a clear glass vase makes when you rub it with alcohol. we bought some stuff. like pasta. and pasta sauce. and three knives.

to choose to write a novel is to speak to another person for a long, long time.

some questions from my notes this afternoon include: do i want a moving story or a story that stays in place? what are the parameters/where does the sandbox end? how dark? how much pain?

to choose to write a novel is to decide your head is a pleasant enough place to build a pillow fort. and i am going to build a pillow fort. what kind of pillow fort will it be? we do not know. how will we deal with the fact that after three months of growing towards the sun and occasionally screaming at it my eyes have been fried out of my head, like eggs except overcooked to the point of imperfection, and i no longer care to see what the light touches? we do not know. some people move between cities; others move between bodies, like shapeshifters without a place to call home. i move between being lonely to the point of death, and alone.

standing in front of the fresh produce section this evening with a lemon in one hand and a saucepan in the other, my friend smiled. first at the lemon, then, when she looked up for long enough to catch my eye, at me.

'this feels like adulthood, doesn't it?'

i put a bag of mandarins in my basket and laughed.

06.05.21

[mrsmaybankhere]

bury a love

i wanted this to be a very short one, but this is a serious topic and i really wanna get it down and be happy with it.

the idea of this fic it was that girls can also be the toxic ones in relationships. we are used to see fics with the man (JJ in this case) being the toxic one, but this has no gender at all. pleaseeee, understand that toxic doesn’t always mean getting beaten up!!!

and that friendships can also be veryy toxic!!!

anyway, hope you like it and lmk your true opinions on it!!

love youu the most xx

words: 2.3k

warnings: alcohol, drugs abuse, overdose, toxic behaviour, toxic relationship (if you are in one, please get out of it, you deserve better!!!)

***not my gif, credits to the owner of it!!!***

JJ knew that lately there was something wrong with you. Beside you dating Rafe's kook ass. You were still you, you were still his best friend [Y/N]. But in the same time you weren't.

You talked the same, you still made the same lame jokes. You still had a low tolerance to alcohol and you were still the cutest girl he ever met when you were drunk, making some adorable faces after throwing up for hours.

But JJ was the only one who noticed that you didn't smiled the same. You just did it with your mouth while your eyes remained empty and sad. He also noticed how you always wanted to get shitfaced. You wouldn't miss a opportunity to get wasted on alcohol. Always alcohol. Like you wanted to escape from something.

Or someone.

But he didn't do anything about it. He was still mad at you for dating Rafe and even if he knew that he acted childish and that he can't control you, he couldn't help himself. The girl of his dreams being in love with his enemy. Kissed and touched by him when JJ should be in his place.

He wanted to tell you about his feeling so many times before. He almost told you once.

And that one almost is tearing him apart now.

When Kie told them that you didn't answered her calls and texts all day, he cursed under his breath and said something like "she's probably too busy actin' like a kook" and he was sure that you will get at the Chateau later with that fake ass smile on your lips with a new gold bracelet. Or a new expensive custom surf board. But you didn't and you didn't answered to the phone. Until...

He was looking at your name again. He wated to see your name blowing up his phone all day long with texts and memes and funny photos of you.

He told myself that he will stop calling you. It's been hours so it was clearly that you didn't wanna talk to any of them.

But he pushed his luck.

And you picked up after just one second.

"[Y/N]?" He whispers and you finally answering left him a bit speechless. "Are you okay? Som-..."

He only heard a deep breath before you hang up the phone.

That's was when he decided to get over your ass and let you come around and now he realized how much he shouldn't.

They went fishing that day. They've been swimming, drinking beer and even catching some fish they will definitely have later for dinner. Kie and Pope got up from the boat, holding the empty bottles of beer while JJ and John B were right behind them, tying up the boat and getting the fish.

"Sarah? What happened? You told me you were busy, but-..." John B rushed to the backyard when he heard the name of his girlfriend. He was worried for her all afternoon.

"Are you okay, Sarah? Look at me. What's wrong?" John's hands are cupping her wet cheeks, but her crying is out of control and JJ's anxiety is getting at him in that moment. Right there he felt that something wasn't good and that it was about you. He felt a pain in his heart and the next few words proved him right.

"[Y/N] she is-...She's in the hospital. She had an overdose."

Overdose.

That night while holding your hand right next your hospital bed, he's still thinking about it. He...They didn't even know you've been doing cocaine. He never saw on you the same effects he saw on his father, but people are different towards it. He looked at the big bouquet of red roses placed on the nightstand next to your bed and he knew that Rafe was here.

And of course he was. You are his girlfriend after all. And you ending up almost dead is only his stupid fault. This is another almost that broke him into tears. Almost losing you before he even had you.

He kicked the flowers vase down with his fist, the glass cutting his knuckles, but it wasn't the first time anyway. But it was the first time when the pain in his heart is even bigger than usual, when he felt that he lost all the air from his lungs and that he can't bare looking at you anymore. He realized just now how much you hurt him over the past few months.

It was you who hurt him the most in the world.

Not his mother for leaving him.

Not his father for beating him for every shit.

No. It was you the one who really broke down his heart.

And later the next day when you finally woke up, they were there with you. Kie, Pope, John B, Sarah and of course JJ. Your parents were the firsts to hug you and you cried in their arms, looking more fragile than ever. You looked haggard and with very pale skin and big dark circles around you bloodshot eyes, JJ almost didn't recognized you. Drugs changed you. Rafe changed you.

Another almost that made him tear up right there in the same room with your friends and your parents.

After assuring them that you feeling alright and after drinking a lot of water, you finally actually looked at your friends. You still had tears in your beautiful, but empty eyes and when you locked yours with JJ's he couldn't bare it, so he quickly looked away. No one said anything, they all just sat there in front of your bed feeling awkwardly.

"I'm sorry...God I'm so sorry guys." You burst into tears again and Sarah and Kie are the first to come closer to you, grabbing your fragile body into a hug while the both of them are also crying.

"Why you didn't talked to us? Maybe we could have helped you."

"You didn't had to do through this alone." Sarah said while caressing your hair. She swore she will kill Rafe for doing this to you.

She wasn't alone, JJ thought but didn't said anything out loud.

"I tried to stop it. I tried to numb it with alcohol...To stop the cravings. But I guess-...I guess at some point I give up trying. I didn't wanted to stop anymore."

John B and Pope didn't know what to say, but they also had tears in their eyes while looking at you. It was a weird feeling to be happy that you come out of it alive.

"You still have us, okay? We will you get through this together."

"Yes. I did a lot of research and-..." Pope started talking a lot like he usually does and you smiled a bit. That smile warmed JJ up and he hated it. And then you looked at him while being hugged by the others, but not him.

"You hate me that much, JJ?" You ask with a lower raspy voice and you feel your whole head spinning around the room, but somehow you can see his disappointed face very easily. Your eyes are wet again, but you try your best to not let another tears out.

He didn't answered your question and he clearly avoided your glare. After another group hug without him the others let you two alone and he didn't said anything fro a while, so you were the one talking first.

"You can't even look at me?" You ask with a sad smile and you shift a little in the uncomfortable bed, a cannula in your right hand. JJ had a grin on his face, a mischievous one.

"I can't." He spat at you. "I can't because I don't even know you fucking are anymore. Because [Y/N] that I know...My [Y/N]...Would never do cocaine to please Rafe Cameron."

"What are you talking about?" You frown and you try your best to talk normal, but your bottom lip is shacking and you can feel tears in the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision of the angry blond in front of you. "It's not like that, J and-...And I'm still your [Y/N]. I realized too late that I need real help, but I'm still me."

"So you wanna tell me that Rafe didn't know about this shit? How fucking stupid do you think I am?" He's screaming in your face right now, not giving a fuck that you are in a hospital. He already fought the security once. "Don't lie to me. At least at the end of it, be fucking honest."

"The end of what?" You try to get up from the bed and you eventually do it after clenching your teeth to ignore the pain you feel in your whole body at every move. JJ felt the need to help you out when he saw you struggling, but he had enough control in himself to not touch you. You don't deserve him helping you after doing him so dirty, after breaking his heart. "I don't wanna lose you, J. I am in love with you. Not with Rafe. Not anyone else, ple-...Please."

He froze for a few seconds. You said these words like you really meant them. That was everything he wanted to hear in the past few months.

"It's too late, [Y/N]. You don't fucking get it?"

Your whole heart shattered into tiny pieces and you face fell at his words. What did you do?

"JJ, you can't do that. We are best friends, we've always been...Since third grade we've been always together. Me, you and John B. We were...We were always like this." You gulp down on your words, barely able to speak anymore with salty tears all over your face and falling on your lips too. "I didn't tell you...Because I didn't wanna ruined it."

"And that's exactly what you did." He whispered with a sad smile and tears in his beautiful icy blue eyes. When you looked into his eyes, you felt safe and loved and appreciated. But now they are your own hell, bringing back memories of you two being happy together everyday from dusk untill dawn. How can you live without him in your life? Him mad at you was better than not having him at all. "Tell me..." He looked down a bit and then back in your eyes. "Why were you with him if you-...If you were in love with me?" He never stutter while talking, but now he just did because of you and the huge power you have over him.

You didn't know how to answer to it. You just bit on your tongue until you felt blood all over your mouth and said the truth. The awful ugly truth.

"It was easier because he was in love with me...And I wasn't. So this way-...This way I won't get hurt."

JJ ran his hands over his blond messed hair and chuckled a little. Years of friendship were wasted because she was scared of love. Because she only wanted to be loved and not give anything back. He can't even look at her anymore. She just became pure evil in his eyes.

"JJ, please. Give me a change to make it up to you...To all of you. I'm so sorry. What do you want me to do now? I'll do anything for you to-...To forgive me." You started speaking a lot, feeling agitated at the thought of losing your best friend for good. You always loved JJ and there was always something more between the two of you, but you were smart enough to realize that JJ felt it too and you were dumb enough to take him from granted all this time while you played with him and Rafe. All your life no one really showed you any kind of affection, so you became desparte for it and you didn't mind being loved. But now it was about JJ...He was there every damn time and now when you realize that he's not gonna be anymore, you are on the edge of losing your mind.

He bit on his lips, a way of showing of stressed he felt in that moment and when you tried to grab his hands, he pushed yours away and take a step towards the door but your eyes are still locked.

"They already did forgive you. Maybe some day I will too, but-..."

"No, please. Don't do this." You shook your head, wanting to believe that none of this is actually real and you were desparte to keep him there a little more, to talk it out, but he gently pushed you away. He wouldn't hurt you.

"But I don't want you in my life anymore. You hurt me enough." Another round of tears traveled his cheeks down to his chin. "We are done, [Y/N]. I hate myself because I know I will always love you and-..." JJ broke is own heart a little more by saying this to you when everything he wanted to do was kissing you and holding you at his chest. It was hard, probably the hardest thing he ever did. "And if you-...If you ever cared about me, if you really love me...You will let me go."

You closed your eyes, wanting to end everything right in that moment. "Say it." You heard him say, but you shook your head. "Promise me you will let me go. For good. Do it." He kept pushing you and when you opened your eyes, you saw him crying just as hard as you.

You raise your hand and he does the same and you catch your pinkies together.

"Pinky promise?" He said and you know that this is gonna be the last time you would do something you did since you were just children. Nothing ever felt as hard as this is.

"Pinky promise."

And for the first time ever he saw pure love in your eyes; you were looking at him in the same way he used to look at you when you turned around.

But now he's the one turning around with you deep buried inside his chest.

[xseaxwitchxkpop]

But Not Today

A/N: Hello y’all. This is a heavier fic and is a way for me to channel me feelings as most of my fics are and will be, especially because it comforts me that people out there feel the same as I do and hopefully through these fics find they are also not alone. I struggle with depression and suicidal ideation/thoughts like many of you do and there’s too many fics that glorify and glamorize the hardships and always end with cure fluffy “I’m always there for you.” No, some people don’t have others to talk to and sometimes the mental illness wins. In all sincerity, if you are feeling like you have no one to talk to, no to listen to you, you can always PM me or send me an anon because I know that feeling well and it’s not a good one. If you want a part two, lemme know, otherwise how it ends is how it ends.

Disclaimers/CW: suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, pills/overdose, drinking, depression (lemme know if I missed something)

Requested: NO

Group: ATEEZ -- Wooyoung

Word Count: 1,847

This month has been absolute hell and is why you find yourself down the rabbithole. Sure, you have friends who have reassured you that they are there to help emotionally but you’ve been fucked over too many times in the past to truly believe any of that.

Which is why you find yourself where you are now. 

The TV plays on the background but you process none of the audio. The sounds of the city play like a symphony throughout your apartment, but you don’t smile and sway. No, you, on the couch, hunched over with elbows on your knees, staring at a pill bottle and a bottle of whiskey, is how the music finds you, empty.

You don’t have the energy to cry, you don’t have the energy to move, you don’t have the energy to...exist. Breathing is now too hard, and the stillness of your body is reflected in the stillness of the apartment, save for the television.

A heavy sigh leaves your lips as you rub your hands on your face and then once again take up the staring contest with the pill bottle. After a beat of silence, your right hand moves to take the bottle of whiskey and swig it hard, the familiar burning sensation in your throat doing absolutely nothing for you as it hasn’t been for the past couple of weeks.

Today was a battle that you were on the verge of losing but you don’t know how to accept the loss. Stabbing or cutting yourself is too messy and would you even hit the right vein to die fast enough? You could jump from the apartment complex’s rooftop and would certainly die on impact, but that’s too public, you want to go quietly. Putting a bullet through your brain seemed like a good option, but it’s too much noise and you have no idea the first place to start looking into gun ownership in Korea. You’ve known people you have attempted suicide by pill overdose, and it wasn’t the most effective method of killing oneself, but it was certainly one of the easiest and one of the quietest ways to go, especially if you could die in your sleep. 

In this past month, you’ve been distancing yourself further and further from your friends who began to worry about you dearly, but, to you, not enough. None of them bothered to try to see you, come by your place, just shot you texts and a couple of calls saying they’re always there or some other bullshit. But Wooyoung was extremely persistent in this. He knows you liked your space and the last time he tried to help you emotionally you blew up at him and dug into his heart like a knife, attacking him in such a way that left him in tears rather than you.

Tonight, though, Wooyoung decided to blow up your phone at every chance he could between practice with the boys and eating and doing other errands he needed that day. You might have hurt him in the past, but he still cares deeply for you regardless.

However, you couldn’t be bothered to pick up the phone and answer him, so your cell was on Do Not Disturb. 

You’re not sure what came over you, but you lift yourself off the couch and shuffle to your door, slowly slipping your feet out of your slippers and slowly slipping your feet into your sneakers, leaning down to loosely tie the laces.

Your grip on the wooden door is gentle, twisting the knob and pulling it open a more caring act than it should have been. As the door shut behind you, you, void of keys, wallet, phone, communication, identification, didn’t look back or bother to double-check if it closed all the way. Guided by something, you’re not sure what, you move forward, your feet shuffling towards the elevator and taking a ride down.

At the first floor you step out, a solemn step that holds no purpose, to you at least. Perhaps fate is guiding you somewhere, perhaps you’re guiding yourself, perhaps nothing guides you and it’s all meaningless.

The streets and sidewalks glisten with water, reflecting the neon lights of clubs, the primary colors of 24/7 convenience stores, storing the sounds of honking taxis, shared laughs of lovers, and the bustling of a street corner and the calmness of another. As life goes, as life is, as life will be.

You can’t say that you’ll miss this -- fake order in a world of chaos. You can’t say that you’ll miss that -- imagined purpose for a meaningless existence.

As you wander, you find yourself taking in nothing at all and everything at once, your alcohol-idled mind creating figures that aren’t there and sounds that don’t exist. Yet when your vision clears again, you find yourself standing at the barrier of a bridge on the highway, looking down into the vast expanse of the ocean; you’ve apparently walked for quite a while. 

The depths of the water below look inviting, dark and crashing together, a blanket of sorrow which is oddly comforting to your empty mind, perhaps because it makes you feel something. With your arms folded, you lean your full weight onto the barrier, contemplating whether or not you should jump -- sure, it would be a bit of effort to hoist yourself over said barrier, but it’s a guaranteed death unlike an overdose.

“YAH, Y/N, WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?!” A male voice paired with boots slapping on wet concrete worms its way into your ears, but you have no reaction; the beckoning of the ocean nearly drowns out his voice anyway.

Suddenly, you feel a strong hand grip your upper arm and whip you around, forcing you to stare into the fearful eyes of the owner of the voice. His other hand came up and gripped your other arm just as tightly, searching your face, your eyes, for something...something...a sign of something.

You took a moment to observe this man, taking in the way his eyes were red and puffy, the fear and relief a sharp contrast shaking hands in his eyes, and a shiny upper lip, probably from snot from his crying earlier. 

You feel Wooyoung pull you into him tightly, barely allowing you to breathe. He squeezes you with nearly everything in him, the state of your apartment and the possibilities of what happened running through his head nonstop.

It was nearing 11PM and Wooyoung was genuinely concerned that you weren’t picking up. You were not doing well for a while, he could tell by your abrupt and simple messages, declining every chance to hang out and/or catch dinner, refusing to even take a walk together. But this time was different -- you were flat out ignoring him and not answering any of his calls or texts and this had him greatly on edge. It reminded him of a friend he used to have in high school who was so hard on himself that he nearly killed himself right in front of Wooyoung; Wooyoung couldn’t go through that again.

He decided to tell the boys that he’s going to your apartment to check up on you and the other boys, worried about you as well, told him that they’re here to help in any way they could.

He travelled to your apartment, using the spare key you gave him to get through the lobby door and using your access code for the lock on the door. The scene that met his eyes made his heart drop into his stomach and a sense of dread fell over him.

Your kitchen floor was scattered with shards of porcelain from one or two of your dinner plates, he couldn’t tell. The vase of flowers that he sent a few days ago were knocked over on the counter, creating a puddle on the table and a wet spot on your carpet, the lip of the glass vase chipped. The TV was running, some stupid drama that was out of character for you to watch. But the coffee table and its contents is what made him feel genuine fear for the first time in a long time.

The bottle of whiskey was half-full, sitting next to a bottle of pills. He made his way over, carefully, brushing porcelain shards out of the way with his foot, as he sat exactly where you once sat not too long ago. He took in your cell you left on the floor near the balcony windows and the keys sitting by the TV and your wallet laid in front of your bedroom door that was open.

His attention turned back to the pill bottle and he reached out a shaky hand, reading the label and having trouble keeping his eyes dry. He opened it, hoping against all hope that you didn’t open it, that maybe, maybe you changed your mind at the last second. 

Uncontrollable tears left his eyes and snot started running down his nose and his breathing quickened and his chest constricted as he found the bottle unsealed, meaning you did something he hoped you didn’t do. 

You mumble something and Wooyoung didn’t quite catch what you said, but he could ask later; all he wants to focus on is you, in his arms, very much real, very much alive, very much on planet Earth, very much here. He breathes in your scent deeply as a reassurance to himself and he doesn’t plan on letting you out of his sight any time soon.

Yet you had no reaction. You just stand there, letting him do what he needs to do to convince himself that you’ll still be around after this, that the mix of the pills you took and the alcohol the bottle said explicitly to not take with the pills fogging your mind.

He eventually pulls away, looking back in your eyes for something, something, something. He notices they’re glazed over and out of focus, dread creeping back to him.

He cups your face in one of his hands and asks, “Were you going to jump?” His voice is shaky at best, doing poorly in concealing his fear, his rage, his dread, his every emotion currently.

“Maybe,” is what you answer. You look briefly back at the ocean, craning your neck a little to look directly at the welcoming ocean again then turn your attention back to Wooyoung. “But not today,” you continue. “Perhaps tomorrow, perhaps next week, perhaps next month, perhaps next year. But not today.”

You feel yourself about to collapse from the dangerous concoction in your veins but Wooyoung barely notices, his mouth running about something but you process nothing.

“My dear friend,” you mumble, and the sound of your voice shuts up the man in front of you, grabbing his attention.

“I’m...sleep...slee...wha’s it?...sleepy, yeah...sleepy,” you manage to get out before collapsing onto the boy, your consciousness slipping from you and a huff of air escaping from the other human presence from your impact.

[hwauas]

🎭: "belladonna"

jung wooyoung | 정오영 - 2,086 words

you couldn't believe this day came. the adrenaline was rushing through your veins. Wooyoung, the Jeong Wooyoung, coming over tonight. you spend the day preparing your house, cooking the dinner, and of course getting ready. you needed everything to be ready, and to be perfect.

     the table was ready. some flowers in a vase. two plates, two cutlery sets, and two glasses for water. you dispatched few pearls on the white tablecloth. you created a soft atmosphere thanks to candles on the table, and little lamps in the rooms. you made sure all your apartment was cleaned. everything needed to be at its place.

it looked like you were having your boyfriend over. but Wooyoung wasn't your boyfriend. and would never be your boyfriend. who would like to date someone like him? it was just a formal dinner between you both.

     of course, over the year, you learnt to stop having pity for wrong people. your work forced you to build your heart into a heart of stone. people were bad. and you couldn't do anything for them. it was the path they choose, and so they chose the consequences. they were aware few people — or nobody — would appreciate them. and these person would slowly turn themselves into agressive and antisocial, becoming lonely, so lonely. this is how it works.

Wooyoung was one of them. he was searched by a lot of mafia gangs. sometimes for little crimes: swearing, assaulting, or for some debts. but also for big crimes: stealing important informations from these gangs, spying on them.

among these mafias looking after him, the popular S-SK band of mafias. according to rumors, S-SK was for Seoul-South Korea. yet, any informations ever leaked before about that or something else.

     anyways, Wooyoung was clearly involved into the dark side of the city, and even S-SK was chasing him. you were doubting about something or someone saving him. he was in too big troubles.

     tic. toc. tic. toc.

     the clock announced 8pm, and quickly after, the doorbell announced someone was here. Wooyoung, of course.

you didn't really like the fact you were having someone's like him over. but you had to do it for your boss. it was just an evening. just a moment, before getting rid of him.

     “y/n. thank you for receiving me.”

Wooyoung entered your apartment and removed his shoes.

“i was surprised when i was told to come here instead. weren't we supposed to meat at your boss's place?”

     “yeah, that's right. but there is a hold-up. he asked me if i was okay with seeing you without him and i just couldn't cancel this dinner less than twenty-four hours before. i hope you don't mind?”

     “not at all. i appreciate you didn't cancel. i'd have get mad. thank you.”

     you faked a smile, and asked him to follow you to your living room. you made him sit on your sofa. and after giving your dear Wooyoung something to drink, you sat besides him, on the sofa.

     “so. about this deal. what is it?”

Wooyoung asked as he sipped on the whiskey you gave him.

     “oh come on. we have so much time to talk about this. don't be this formal.”

Wooyoung only sighed and sank into your sofa.

“when did it all started?”

     “start what?”

by his behaviour and the tone of his voice, you recognise a nonchalance. he was annoyed — you cut him to the quick.

     “being... bad. stealing, spying on, having debts on purpose. all that.”

you had a serious gaze on him. you knew you needed to have a control on yourself not to help him — anyways he was a lost cause. you just needed to stall for time.

     “i don't remember when exactly. i was just... young. it started with little things. and i was failure to my parents. they never encourage me to do something. the only one that believed in me left. since i've never been a fan of school, i never did anything by myself to study, to work or anything. you know.. just people here and there got me into this. and i'm not complaining. i have somewhere to sleep. something to eat everyday. somewhere to take showers. clothes. it's enough i guess.”

he was avoiding your gaze, looking straight in front of him. there was the turned off TV.

     “who left? who was he, or she?”

you were curious about what he just told you. it was very intriguing: you needed to know more about this for your own pleasure.

     “San. a friend. my best friend.”

Wooyoung sipped on his whiskey again, and so you did on yours. you didn't really know what to say.

“but you don't need to know much about him, right? so leave him alone.”

     with that, Wooyoung finished his glass of alcohol in one gulp. you understood what does this mean: you couldn't ask anything about this San anymore. you then stood up and went to the kitchen. Wooyoung wandered around to find the dining room, and sat on a chair in front of a plate. the atmosphere got him less tensed, and you immediately knew you did good.

    you came back with the dish, and served you both. it was steaming, yet once you came back from the kitchen to put back the dish there, you both started to eat.

     “so i was saying, about-”

     “about the deal. i know. this is what you're waiting impatiently since you arrived here, Wooyoung. okay. then let's discuss about this.”

you didn't say anything, wanting him to go first. after all, he was the one obsessed with that. right?

     “so, since this agency is holding files we are both interested in, but since their security is very strong, i thought about infiltrating someone in there. we can pretext it's for an internship, for few days. but then, the person there has to be very cautious.”

Wooyoung didn't say more after, and continued to eat. it seemed he was liking what you've done.

     you waited longer, hoping him to continue — which he didn't. you then frowned, and stopped eating for a moment.

“what for?”

     “the security. all the parts in the building are well secured.”

he rolled his eyes, as if you asked the dumbest question ever. but you were too focused on his lips to notice this. Wooyoung was eating everything. and this fulfilled your heart with joy and happiness.

“do you think somebody will make it through the whole security system to steal the files?”

     ”of course.~”

     you kept in mind all the informations he gave you until now, eating your plate till it was empty. you were thinking again and again about what he told you. you had to remember everything. every single details. but you wanted to stare at your victory too.

     “i'm getting thirsty. can i have some.. water.. please?”

Wooyoung's voice was very low. every words seemed hard to say.

     “of course, Wooyoung.”

you sat up and went to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from your fridge — one you prepared on purpose for him before, meticulously. you came back, and opened the bottle to pour it in his glass.

“by any chance, you don't have any information about the security? where are cameras? where are stocked the videos? where is their room to look through these cameras? any motion detector, or metal detector?”

     Wooyoung tried to drink, but he couldn't swallow more than three times. he gave up for the moment, and just focused back on you.

“i do. it's in my phone. but as long as i'm not sure we're both into this, i won't show anything.”

his voice got raspy, and he ended up almost whispering. you faked a reaction, worrying about him.

     “are you okay? you wanna lay down maybe..?”

you asked with fake worried eyes. but deep down, you were happy. everything was working. everything was going well.

     Wooyoung nodded. he took a deep breath as he was trying hard to keep his head up. his pale skin under his dark clothes started to shine: he was sweating. drops here and there were forming, rolling, and disappeared somewhere on his clothes.

     you stood up and went by his side. you tried to get him back on his feet, and almost pulled him through the rooms to lay him down on your sofa — but you knew this position wouldn't help at all. you made sure he was comfortable in your sofa, and left to clean the table. once you were in the kitchen, far from him, you couldn't help but squeal in happiness.

     “y/n: 1. Wooyoung: 0.”

you whispered to yourself, all happy about what you achieved. you were cruel, but you were loving this part of you — even though it already scared you in the past.

     “oh please don't scream like that! my head! it hurts even more!”

Wooyoung tried to shout out, but it hurt him even more than the squeal you did. since you knew what happening to him, you knew this noise you made have been altered: the sound seemed closer, stronger, and higher.

     “i'm sorry.”

once again, you used your talents to fake your emotions. worry, and guilty about your squeal. you put down the bottle of water and the glass on the coffee table.

“i'll get you some medicines. and a wet towel. wait for me.”

     you rushed through your apartment to get these. once you were in your bathroom, the door closed, you took out your phone to call your boss. of course, you tried to stay as discreet as possible. you even put a random towel in the washbasin and turned on the tap to pretend you were indeed moistening the fabric for him.

     “about time! i thought you would never call me!”

     “i'm sorry boss. it got a little bit longer. but everything's fine. he ate everything. and i managed to gave him water too. and of course, i watered the poison down in this water too.”

you said with shining eyes. you were proud of yourself. it was an another mission you accomplished.

     “okay but the way you're getting rid of him, i don't give a fuck, Belladonna. i wanna know about the informations you've got from him.”

     you tried to sum up all the informations your boss needed. anyways, you would meet him to tell him everything in details.

and you smiled as your boss again complimented your work.

     “i knew you wouldn't disappoint me. you're not the best S-SK member for no reason.”

     you finally hang up with him quickly after. looking at your reflection in the mirror, you offered yourself a smirk. you made sure to arrange your top, making sure to reveal a tattoo on your collarbone. the words 'S-SK : Belladonna' were written here, under your skin.

you were a member of this mafia band. Belladonna was your code name, and somewhat your new identity since you chose this path.

even though you did horrible things, you would never ever give up on  S-SK.

     you took the towel, and barely wrung it. you came back by Wooyoung, slowly dying in your sofa. and the first thing he noticed what your tattoo. the fear slowly appeared in his eyes, and all over his face.

     “S-SK..? Belladonna..? i trusted you..! how could you..!”

Wooyoung tried to do something, but he was too weak. even screaming was hurting him even more.

     “shhh, honey... the poison is taking the leads. give up. you have no chance.”

    “the.. poison..?”

     “the belladonna, honey. why do you think my code name is Belladonna? because i kill with the belladonna, of course.”

you put the towel on his forehead. it would change nothing. of course.

“belladonna, a flower. isn't it paradoxical that a flower.. so precious, so delicate, so beautiful.. can kill a human? i look harmless. but i kill. just as you, i'm a bad person, Wooyoung. you're not the only mafiosi here, honey.”

    as Wooyoung finally gave up, you took his phone from his pocket. you left your apartment, locking him up in there. anyways, as he was dying, he couldn't do anything.

you texted two S-SK members to ask them to get rid of the corpse for you. and of course, your boss and you would use Wooyoung's information without any misgivings.

     in this life, the strongest makes the rules.

it's killing.. or being killed. and guilty or sorrow weren't feelings anymore for you. a S-SK mafia.

[queensdivas]

Peonies Chapter 5

This took me a little longer than expected because school has me wrapped up in papers and research projects. Someone do this work for me so I can sleep since I haven’t slept well in nights!!!!!!

But anyway. This chapter was interesting to write and I hope that y’all enjoy!!! 

Next Chapter 

Previous Chapter 

Masterlist 

Damn him. Damn him damn him! Grabbing the closest random vase to chuck it against the wall. Me! Sleeping with Peter? I would rather die in a pile of shit that had smallpox than sleep with that moron! It’s been a day and I still find those words making my stomach curl! Maybe another vase? Ah these this naked porcelain statue. Chucking it against the wall as it finally made me feel a little better.

How did I allow one man to have such control over my emotions! To flood my mind, body, and soul as if he is a flash flood in the valley! I don’t even..I’m going to drive myself into a pit of never ending darkness. That damn man with those...beautiful blue pools of his eyes that sparkle in the sunlight. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes in my life. Those strong cheekbones that could cut someone with a knife.

FUCK!

Maybe write a letter..I imagine the family is missing me and I’ve only written two letters so far here. Father is probably worried that I’ve been converted to the Orthodox ways. (Well I’ve been breaking the laws of the catholic church but luckily these people are too busy with themselves). I sat down at my desk to begin thinking on how to send back a positive message when I’m dying on the inside.

Dear Father.

Remind me to never make allies with Russia if I ever become Queen of Italy. These people are uncultured, disgusting horny toads! It feels like I have walked into a brothel except they’re not a bunch of dirty poor people. Now it’s a vast amount of extremely broad people on the court.

I’m not asking for you to save me or come galavanting from the homeland to come save me. Catherine still needs a lot of help and it’s getting worse before it gets better. To think that I gave the Russians the benefit of the doubt because I knew Catherine would be a little sensitive to the whole situation. But this is just horrible. I literally witnessed the Emperor laying with someone in the middle of the hall!

This is definitely a reminder of what not to do when I become Duchess at least. No wild parties at court more than once a week, and no.

My chamber doors bursted open to see Marial storming in, closing the doors behind her. She turned her back and leaned against the door. A panic expression was written on her face as I was waiting for an explanation.

“Yes Marial?” Asking as I continued to work on my letter.

“We’ve got a problem?” I took a sip of my wine that I had sitting out with me.

“Don’t we always?”

“It’s Catherine.” Putting down the quill as I turned around in my chair to stare at her.

“Is Catherine alright?”

“Now that she's Leo , yes. But the ladies..they did something bad. Not extremely bad but bad.” Is this a situation where I should be extremely worried? Worried? Or just a pat on the shoulder should make her feel better.

“After we passed out the eggs to the ladies of the court, Lady Svenska invited her to the tea party she threw, they were in a dance and one of the ladies punched her in the noise and caused her nose blood.” No. NO! NOT WHILE I’M AROUND!

“Are they still at their dance?” Popping up from the chair as I walked over to my trunk.

“Yes. They will be for another hour or two.” Which means pastries and tea will be required. Did I bring it? I really thought I brought it YES!

“Please let Catherine know that I will be handling these women the way they should’ve been. Tossed back down to the station they truly belong in, not what they thought.” Ordering Marial as I rang my bell for Fernanda. She came in as I placed the bottle on the end of the desk.

“Yes M’Lady.”

“Did we bring tea dance attire?” Asking her as she nodded.

“Great. Get my full attire ready, I’m going to way these peasants.” AS before you know I hate wearing the wigs, corsets, layers of face paint, and the dress. But duty calls in this situation because no one lays a hand on my cousin!

Taking off my boots as I heard someone come running into my room as I waited to see who it was. Catherine slid in as I was still sitting there taking off my boots. If she thought she could talk me out of this then she’s surely mistaken.

“Chiara please don’t!” Catherine begged as Fernanda came in with the dress as Catherine looked like she was going to explode.

“You don’t have any idea how this country works and if you do something like this then you could ruin everything I’ve worked so hard for.” Catherine stood directly in front of me as I leaned back against the chair.

“Well your last plan turned out to be a disaster and look what they did!”

“Minor setbacks tend to happen in these situations.”

“You’d call that minor?” Pointing directly as her nose as I got up from my desk.

“Please Chiara just because this works in your country doesn’t mean the same thing here. Peter will see this as an attack and were right in the middle of a war! He would be more than happy to send soldiers just because you caused half the women of the court to suffer.” Rolling my eyes as I began unbuttoning my shirt.

“Might I make a suggestion?” Marial poked her head into the bedroom as we both turned to face her.

“There’s always smacking me down.” See we wouldn’t be in this situation if Catherine would’ve just listened to Marial and I!

“Yes! Look if you don’t smack her down then I’ll be taking this matter into my own hand. And of course it has to be in public. And you’ll really have to say something to really piss off Catherine.” She knows that if she doesn’t do it then I’ll be doing what I do best.

“The horse fucking.”

“Cause allegedly you did. Though I don’t know how you would but maybe if you sort of..”

“Fine. Tonight Elizabeth is throwing a party in honor of the archbishop being selected so I guess we’ll do it there. Can we talk privately?” Catherine whispered as I looked at Fernanda to leave the room. Marial followed suit to close the bedroom door for me to sit back down at my desk.

“Though I appreciate you willing to avenge my attack. I think you enjoy getting ahead of yourself.”

“We’re family. No one hurts la mia famiglia.” I turned away from her to walk over to the small liquor table that sits in my bedroom. Pouring her a glass of wine then grabbing mine from my desk.

“Here. Something to make you feel a little at home.” Handing it to her then she looked at the bottle.

“Gaja Ornellaia. Dark and sweet.” Clinking glasses together as we both took a sip. Motioning her to sit as she sighed.

“How do you deal with women of the court? Sucking up to them sounds torturous and there’s no way that I can stoop to their level of living.” Catherine sat down on one of the loveseats for me to sit down at my desk.

“This court is one that I won’t be forgetting till the day I die. It’s one that has been let loose to do their own bidding. For the moment I wouldn’t suck up to them, but obviously we’re on a mission to make everyone in favor of you instead of Peter. So gifts. Not like your golden eggs but something that will truly aid them in their boring day to day lives. Maybe a better doctor for instance, or even a dentist. Lord knows how rotted their teeths are and could use at least some sort of cleaning. Though they say their modern, it’s more a barbaric modern.”

“You’re the empress Catherine. You have a lot more power at your fingertips then you realize and they’re trying to make you inferior because you’re new to the court. If you really wanted to you could strip down Svenska from her station if you truly wanted to. Lord knows I would at this point in my mind.”

“The ladies are led by Svenska with the amount of money..”

“Who's the Empress of Russia? Who rules Russia? The donkey face can’t even work up the courage to hit you she sends one of her ladies to do it. I really need to find that mean bone in your body and drag it out of you. I’d hate to say it but there is no such thing as a loving Queen. Most of us who are in royal power must rule with an iron fist but that doesn’t mean to be a monster onto the people like your moron of a husband.”

“Be truthful and fair to the people. Gain their trust in the way they need it, not you.” Close enough.

“Tell me Chiara. What exactly were you going to do with the ladies if I hadn’t come by to stop you?”

“Remember that cruise two years ago?”

“Chiara!”

“What! It worked last time, why wouldn’t it work a second time.” It really would’ve and if something like that happens again while I’m around it will work again.

Catherine put her glass of wine down to then lean a little more towards me which caused me to lean back against the seat.

“You’re a lot more bitter than usual. Is everything alright?” No. Everything is not alright! How can any of this be alright! This country! These people! Backwoods! Horny toads that just do whatever they Goddamn please without respecting..Oh it’s not even that! Fucking Grigor accusing me of sleeping with the moron Emporer who has a mind of a child! How dare he accuse me! I wouldn’t have any sort of sexual contact with him if he was the last man on this earth. If the gates of hell were open and the choice for me to go into Heaven was having sex with Peter I still wouldn’t partake in it!

“Peachy. Just absolutely peachy.” Chugging the rest of my wine to then throw my empty glass against the wall.

“You know that scared me for the first few weeks of being here. But now..” Finishing her drink to then chuck it against the wall. Shattering against it as she laid down on the love seat.

“But now it’s become a permanent sound in my mental wallpaper.” Grabbing the bottle to then walk over to where she was laying then sat down next to her. Getting comfortable as I pulled the cork out with my teeth to spit it across the room. Taking a drink to then give her the bottle.

I’ve yet to look at the top of my room since I moved in. They’re cupids that are dancing around in the clouds. Not sure who exactly designed this room but those cupids...they're so masculine..Why are they so muscular? I know no baby ever comes out this muscular no matter who the father is. Zeus himself could not ever make a baby this muscular!

“Catherine. Catherine. Lookup.” Pointing directly at them as her head tilted in curiosity.

“They’re cupids.”

“Yes they’re cupids. But have you ever noticed that they’re extremely muscular. They’re babies and have more muscles than Zeus himself. Just look!” We began laughing as the bottles continued to go back and forth between the both of us. This is exactly what I think we both needed. No men, no Government, not worrying about anything and just laughing at extremely masculine cupids.

“How is Leo? How is having a lover in your life?”

“It’s..intoxicating and confusing. When I first arrived I planned to make Peter fall in love with me as I am a romantic. Then tossed into a wheel of uncertainty. Leo says that he has fallen for me and..it feels so wrong from everything I’ve once believed in.” That’s one word to describe everything I’ve gone through so far.

“Our worlds are messy. We always think that it will be easy as those before us. But the world...people..him..it’s unclear.”

What am I doing? I’m to be a Grand Duchess in the next year or two, there’s a possibility of being a Queen and I’m in a tiny crisis on how to deal with some Russian that’s just using to get back at his wife? That didn’t even feel like the case till he brought up Peter and the accusation. But...look what he’s going through in his life as I imagine he doesn’t want his wife to be behaving like this.

Grigor...Grigor...for some reason the thought of his arms being wrapped around me is helping me fall asleep..so peacefully. He does this thing with his thumb where it glides up and down where it’s placed and it brings such comfort.

After drinking for a little longer than predicted. Catherine and I ended up sleeping directly where we were sitting for more than two hours. Alcohol is such a good night medicine. Fernanda came in to wake us as we both felt like brand new people and we had to get ready for Elizabeths party.

Per usual I truly didn’t feel like getting shoved into a dress and from what I’ve gathered about Elizabeth this party will end up becoming a clothes off party. So why not just dress the part but not get involved. Besides...I want to piss off Grigor for his accusation so why to wear as little as possible for something he’s not receiving.

My beautiful crafted corset that was pink with gold floral designs all around it. My plain white long sleeve shirt was underneath the corset with my nice pair of black pants and boots. Quite the scandal some would say. (But as you know it’s me just trying to be comfortable.)

“Boot dagger.” Fernanda tossed the sheathed knife onto the bed as I placed my boot on the bed and placed it in the boot. And now we’re set.

“Feel free to let loose tonight. I should be able to get myself ready to sleep and probably will be extremely intoxicated.” She nodded as I fixed my shirt so that my chest would be a little more exposed than most times.

Wait, something is missing. Rings yes, boot knife yes, and OH! Necklace! Walking to the desk to pull out my jewelry box to pull out my pearl necklace. The first few rows of pearls were tight around the neck itself then relaxed across my chest. Oh yes. Much better.

Walking out of my bedroom to already hear the madness going down near the end of the hallway. I really need a break from this palace. I’m in Russia and I should be going into the cities to at least see them! Maybe Catherine would be up for a trip to Moscow or Saint Petersburg sometime soon. I think that it would do her some good to go out and see the people to get a complete understanding of the country that she lives in. It does no good for a rising Empress to preach about change when she hasn’t met her own subjects. At home I would constantly go out and about to see my people. Support their businesses and make sure everything was doing okay. Yes her and I are in different situations but going out every once in a while wouldn’t hurt.

Walking into the party to see people were holding snakes, animals, and...a bird? I must admit this is one interesting party. Reminds me of when we had an animal exposition a few months back and I got to see a Tiger from China! But I imagine that would be impossible here due to the fact that the tiger would eat all of them up.

Looking around to see the ladies were sitting around the fireplace laughing as I wanted to choke the donkey face till she turned a different color. Ah and George. The Emporers would be where you had the audacity to become angry when Grigor and I were fooling around. The hypocrisy that spills from her mouth is exhausting.

Speaking of Grigor, where is he? Trying not to look suspicious as I searched the room to see him sitting with Peter and children as they drink wine? They look around 10? Mother didn’t even let me touch a drop besides communion till I turned at least 12! He looked directly at me to form a smile on his face. Maybe I over blew the whole situation. Tends to be a problem of mine which I need to fix.

“These parties..so interesting.” Catherine commented as we continued into the party. A waiter passed by with one glass as I snuck it for myself.

“Remember the plan.” Winking as we both sat down with the bitches.

“So. Tell me of your lives here.”

“All is bliss in the court of Peter.”

“Of course life is bliss here. But if tiny improvements could be made, and I could help you as Empress, that would gladden my heart to be a friend and a use to you all.”

“Why don’t you stop the war?” Why don’t you stop being a child? Impossible. They all chuckled as I wanted to scream.

“I will note it down. But it is probably beyond me at this point. Maybe more immediate things.” I can’t chime in on this because I don’t really live here full full time. (Though it feels like I’ve been living here for ages!)

“Well, the carriages are always in disrepair. They do not fix it fast enough.” George chimed in. Always being helpful in gaining her own glory.

“I see. I shall look into it. How is your son Tatyana? Boris. He was unwell?”  

“Fucking Chekhow saw him, but...We need better doctors than the Chekhovs. Boris coughs blood, and the fool puts leeches on his throat. I do not know doctoring but it seems ridiculous. And my dearest Boris gets sicker.” I truly can not imagine the horror of how this country would handle an outbreak of any sort of disease. Even if precautions are made to keep them at bay.

“He basically killed Raisa.”

“Exactly.”

“Indeed. We must have the most modern medicine. We shall bring a new doctor from France.”

“What a friend you are to us. How is Leo?” Is her life so dull that she must pry her big disgusting nose into Catherines love affair? Looking over to Catherine who looked uncomfortable for just a moment then smiled.

“He makes my skin tingle and my heart gladden.” They all giggled as I wanted to scream. It’s a private affair!

“Surely more detail than that. If you really are our friend, we will need you to open up to us, if it is true and we are to feel you love us.”

“Shut up, whore!” OH SHIT! Taking a sip of my wine after Marial yelled at her. In reality I’m trying not to laugh because holy shit that’s funny!

“She cannot…”

“Apologize!” Her and Catherine exchanged a look as I was ready. C’mon Catherine! Use that mean bone!

“I will see her later. Go back to your quarters, Marial.”

“NEEEEEIGH!” Catherine stood up to slap the living shit out of her to the point she almost fell down on the ground. Everyone gasped as I was sipping my wine trying not to laugh at these dumbasses.

“Do not ever do that! That goes for all of you. Am I heard?” The ladies in the circle slightly nodded as my eyes were directly on Svenska. I know the ass face was responsible for this mess and I’ll be dealing with it even after this. Oh did you think I forgot about the whole tea dance? Far from it.

“I have spoken to my husband on this, and he sees it as a sleight on him. If it is heard again, no matter what family, what wealth, they will be a servant stripped of everything and we will slap the shit out of them on a daily basis! Am I heard?” And that is how you do it!

“Marial, wipe the blood from your nose. Pour me wine.” Catherine sat down as Marial began to pour her wine.

“Now, other things you ladies need from me? Lady Svenska, can I help you in any way?”

“No Empress. I am satisfied.”

“Mmm. Marvelous. Good day then.” Catherine got up from her seat as I stayed exactly where I was for a few minutes. I’m waiting to see if ass face will say something smart right after Catherine has left.

“What are you waiting for exactly?” Svenska commented as my focus went directly to her.

“Oh just..watching..and waiting.” Svenska turned back towards Tatyana as I noticed George was staring directly at me. What could she possibly want?

“I think we need to talk.”

“Need or want? I have absolutely nothing to say to you.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Her eyebrow was raised at me as I put my drink down.

“And I find it hard to believe that you’re a good woman of any sort. If you want to talk then talk. You have the floor and are ready to tell me all about how you’re the victim and everything you do is for status. Truthfully you enjoy every moment of it that you go out of your own way to spend all your time with him.”

I waited for a few moments for her to say something back against my statement but what does she have against me? Being a whore? She’s already got that covered in her department so what would that even do against me?

“The Emperor is about to announce the new patriarch to the court.” A servant told us as I got up from my chair to then walk away. Stupid woman.

We walked into a large sitting room as the new patriarch was wearing his garments as Peter was standing on top of the love seat. I stood next to Leo as I noticed Grigor was coming to stand next to me.

“The new Patriarch! Huzzah!”

“Huzzah!”

“Oh! To the Empress! She is finding her feet here, and her fists.” Took her a minute but we managed to get it out of her.

“Apparently she fucked a horse before she got here!” Damn it….

“For I am all for fucking and after Archie blesses us we will all begin!”

“Huzzah!” Glad to know that after everyone is blessed that they’re basically saying yeah God take it back. Didn’t need it in the first place.

“Can we talk?” Grigor whispered for me to raise my eyebrow.

“You and your wife truly love to talk don’t you?” Not looking directly at him as I kept my head straight forward.

“Please Chiara. I really….” Maybe he is sorry. I feel like this is becoming a usual song and dance for us these past few weeks. Nodding for the two of us to turn around and walk out of the room.

We started down the hallway keeping absolutely silent towards each other. Who exactly was going to start this conversation? Not me because at this moment I have nothing to say on the matter besides saying sorry for being a little over dramatic, and that’s it. He stopped walking to move in front of the fireplace to warm himself up a little. Turning towards me to let out a large sigh.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry that I accused you of sleeping with Peter because of my own personal problems. It wasn’t right and I truly feel horrible for saying that…” I could tell that he wanted to say much more but was working on it. My hands were behind my back as I waited for him to finish his statement.

“Grigor it’s not a..

“Chiara I’ve fallen for you.” He interrupted me as I was confused by what he just said. What?

“I have fallen for you Duchess Chiara.” It sent shivers down my spine. What why? We’ve only known each other for a few weeks and now he’s fallen. Oh no...no no no.

“I am not the romantic type Grigor. I am not like my cousin who will bring you a twig to show love and unity. I..I don’t care for it.” Truth be told I’ve been avoiding the whole love marriage life ever since I was born. If I marry then I lose everything. The power will go to my husband and I am left to be nothing but a baby making device for my husband.

Yet...this feels different. I feel as if I should be comforting Grigor to hold one another. If I could keep him as a lover for eternity I might be okay with this idea. But marriage is something that I plan on never happening in my life.

“I don’t expect you to have fallen because why would you have fallen for a piece of shit like myself. You’re right about me..I’m nothing but a weakling who can’t even stand up against the moron himself..” He fell to his knees as he was beginning to have some sort of attack on the floor in front of me. Quickly approaching him as I got down on my knees.

“Grigor take a breath.” Rubbing his back as he was trying to catch his breath.

“My mind is beginning to chip away right before my eyes Chiara..” Oh no..no no. Holding him close to me as I kissed the top of his forehead. Okay so me swearing off love may just be a phase like mother said! Or is this just me feeling bad. I’ll figure that out later!

“This..this is just a rocky path in the road of life. We all go through it and eventually it becomes better. Just have to go through the rough path in order to see that beautiful green field on the other...this isn’t helping is it.” He shook his head as I thought I heard a door opening.

“A weakling… I’m such a weakling..” I’d rather the court not see Grigor falling apart in front of their eyes. Laughing was echoing from the hall as I had to get him out of here.  

“Let’s go somewhere else.” Telling him as I lifted him up from the ground.  We were stumbling around a little as we quickly walked through the palace till we made it to the apartments. No this isn’t meant for me to tackle him and have rough sex. Rather..rather not let the court see him breaking down when he’s the most important members of Peters court.

Opening the door to my apartment as he walked in then slamming the doors shut. Locking it as he fell onto the love seat. His breathing did calm down a little bit yet he was still in some sort of a panic state. Water.

“God how am I a man? Any man would’ve killed the other man for sleeping with his wife..you 're right..” Okay now I’m feeling horrible. I poured him a glass of water to then sit on my knees next to Grigor.

“Drink some water.” He sat up to take the glass from my hand.

“How could anyone love me...I’m such a coward. I can’t even fuck my wife...she has to go to someone else in order to fill that void...that desire that I can not fufill.” Well that’s utter bullshit because being railed by him was marvelous.

“Stop that! There is no need to bring down yourself because of your wife being a total whore. Grigor I’m sorry...I’m sorry for being such a cunt towards you. We both come from completely different worlds and I have to remember sometimes that this isn’t home..You’re not a weakling or a coward. This is just a difficult situation that probably doesn’t help that I’ve been acting so horrid towards you..” His glass was empty as I took it from him to place it down on the ground. My hands cupped his cheeks as he held onto them, he closed his eyes to put his forehead against mine.

“May I stay here for the night?” Grigor asked for me to nod.

“I can’t spend another night alone. Not another night…” Sitting up to then wrap my arms around him. He picked me up to then pull me into his lap which made me giggle a little. It’s kind of fun just being hoisted up into someone's lap.

“I don’t plan on making love with you tonight Chiara.” Oh really? This is rather shocking because I figured he would’ve found a way to seduce me into the bed.

“And why is that? Got tired of me already? We’re those three days….or five..still a little blurry with the amount of wine and food

“Never. You are the only good thing that has come from my dreadful existence here.” Somehow I think he’s right.

“I’m really wanting a glass of vodka. Care for some?” Asking as he was rubbing his eyes.

“Please.” Climbing off to walk over on my refilled liquor shelf. Two of my biggest glasses filled with vodka as I imagine it’s like water to him at this point. Just like how wine is like water, just drink it like water. Sitting back down on his lap to give him the glass, clinking out glasses as we both chugged down the vodka. HOLY SHIT THIS BURNS GOING DOWN STILL HOLY CRAP!

“Still getting used to it aren’t you?” He began to laugh as I shook my head then blinked a few times.

“Indeed. But it acts fast and my fingers are already feeling wonderful. How about another?” I’m just going to grab the glass bottle so I can stay comfortable on his lap. Skipping to the bottle as I pulled the cork off and placed it on the table.

“If you would’ve told me when we first met that I would be letting you sit on my lap after our first introduction. I would’ve thought they were mad.” Good times from a few weeks ago when I had a large stick up my ass. Sitting back down to take a swing from the bottle then hand it to him.

“Or me having some sort of relationship with you after I almost beat you with my sabre. How the world changes before our own eyes.” We both nodded to continue passing the glass bottle back and forth to one another.

I could feel it coursing through my veins like water rushing down a river after a rainstorm. It feels incredible! Vodka is truly a wondrous type of alcohol that loves to scorch my throat. Oof. As much as I would love to sit on his lap for a long time, my bed looks absolutely enticing for us to crawl in. Hopefully he wouldn’t mind crawling into bed.

“Would you mind if we got into bed? Your lap is comfortable but my bed just feels so much better. Please Grigor?” Without questioning it. He sat up as my legs wrapped around his back for us to start heading towards the bed. As much as I love not being pounded into oblivion in this position..this is fun! Wait for the corset. I can not get into my sleep mindset if I’m stuck wearing this cage.

He put me down on the bed as I sat on my knees to then begin taking off my corset. Crap Fernanda really tied the bow up high to the point I can’t reach it. His fingers began messing with the string as I felt the air entering my body once again. Tossing it across the room to untuck my shirt from my pants.

“Thank you.” Turning to face him as we leaned in to kiss one another. Softly kissing one another as he placed his hand on my cheek.

“Picnic with me tomorrow. There’s a beautiful tree that the leaves just dance with the wind that is just beautiful.” Yes. I said that I wanted to get some sort of fresh air and the timing could not be more perfect!

“It’s only been one day since I’ve been away from your bed, and I’ve missed the way it feels. Warm..comforting, can be a bit rough but eventually I become in a state of relaxation.” Grigor became comfortable down on the bed as I joined him on top of the covers. He placed his hand on my cheek as I kissed his hand.

“I know you don’t love me or have fallen for me...but thank you.” He drifted to sleep as I began to scoot closer to him. He must’ve felt me move because I was pulled closer to him and tucked into his chest.

This is nice.

Very nice.

taglist! 

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[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Hii! Could you write a one or two chaptered fanfic on Bakugou x Mina? Scenarios: she is drunk and he takes care of her/ she pushes him out of the way and gets injured instead/ she starts flirting as a joke but then he flirts back and oh god does she like it and kisses him.

Absolutely!

Bubblegum 

A Bakugou x Mina Drabble

Warnings: alcohol use, cursing

Chapter 1...........

They weren’t friends. Well, they weren’t exactly not friends, either. Mina always found friends, whether she wanted to find them or not.

To her, a stranger was just a friend she hadn’t met yet. 

And that was sort of how she viewed the spiky blond who sat in front of her in class. 

He didn’t talk much. When he did speak, he could be heard throughout the whole damn school building, and it was usually because Kirishima had pulled a dumb prank on him. 

Mina often held back her giggles, not wanting to upset him further, but one day she made a fatal mistake of chuckling to herself.

“Do ya fuckin’ think this is funny?” he growled, glaring down at her. She straighened her back, cocking an eyebrow.

“Sure do!” she smiled sweetly. He huffed, sitting back down, to the suprise of literally everyone who noticed.

Usually, Bakugo would have spat and sputtered at the comeback, but this time, he simply backed down. That just wasn’t like him.

What Mina never knew was how her attitude completely broke him. Fuck, he wished that he could get along with people like she did. She didn’t even have to try; all she had to do was be her happy go lucky self and people just...flocked to her. 

Even him.

He hated to admit defeat, and rarely did, if ever. But he couldn’t deny that he definately had a crush on the bubblegum pink girl. 

He just wished he knew how to tell her. 

Could he even tell her?

Friday Night, weeks later........

Denki’s parents were out of town, and being the crackhead that he is, threw a spontaneous party at his house. Of course, everyone in class 1A was invited. Mina was one of the first people to show up, and she helped get the snacks and drinks together. 

Sero giggled as he walked into the kitchen, a bag in his hand. It was clinking, as if it were filled with glass bottles.

“Whatcha got there?” she inquired, pointing towards the mysterious bag.

He stopped laughing for a moment, flashing Denki a confused look. 

“Uhh, I thought it was just gonna be the boys, man. Can...we even trust her?” Sero asked, gesturing towards her.

“Hey! I’m right here, you know! And yeah, you can trust me. Come on, you gotta tell me what it is now!” She frowned, crossing her arms. Sero sighed, pulling out the bottles.  Alcohol.

She stared wide eyed, but excited. She’d never drank anything before, but it sure did look fun! She took a bottle of clear liquid in her hand, opening it up.

“Whoa, there! You won’t like it like that!” Denki warned. She pouted, closing it back. 

“Well, fine then. I’m gonna make a punch or something then. Should I make some for everyone or?” she asked, grabbing what she needed from the cupboards. 

“uh...sure. Just don’t tell Midoriya, he’s definately a little snitch,” Sero mumbled.

“Ya think so?” she asked, standing up on the counter to reach for some sugar.

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

The punch bowl was the centerpiece of the table. People came in and out, grabbing a cupful for themselves or a friend. Mina was on her third glass by the time everyone showed up. 

Bakugo, on the other hand, skipped on the punch. He was content with sitting himself in a corner, nodding to the music and stealing glances at Mina. She didn’t even notice. She was much too busy laughing at tiktoks with Uraraka. 

He sighed, sipping on a glass of soda. 

Soon, the party began to wind down as the punch kicked in. Some people retreated to the bedrooms (for various reasons), while others crashed on the couch or on the floor.

Bakugo turned the music down as he stood up. He got into a semi-heated debate with a drunken Sero about something stupid, and lost track of Mina. He shrugged it off. Maybe she just went home. 

He headed upstairs to the bathroom to take a quick piss before heading back to his dorm. He didn’t feel like cleaning up after the people who carelessly threw their trash on the floor, and he didn’t care to babysit anyone who got too drunk to stand. 

As he approached the door, he heard something.

Someone was in there, retching and lightly crying. 

Usually in situations like this, he would’ve just minded his business and walked away. 

But his gut told him that he just...couldn’t do that. Not this time.

He gently knocked on the door. No response. He went ahead and tried to open it. To his suprise, it was unlocked.

His eyes widened as he realized who it was behind that door. 

Mina.

Her makeup was ruined, running down her cheeks in streaks. She wiped her mouth quickly as she noticed him walk in.

He didn’t say anything. He just stared for a moment.

She slurred, “Do you...do ya think this is fucking funny? huh?” 

He shook his head.

She began to cry again, covering her face. He grabbed a washcloth, wetting it under icy cold water in the sink before placing it on the back of her neck. She flinched at the sudden sensation.

“How much did’ja have to drink?”

“6,” she muttered, hovering over the toilet bowl.

“Dumbass...” he scoffed, rubbing her back. 

She heaved, emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She groaned, holding her stomach.

“It’ll go away...just...” he tried his best to comfort her, but he genuinely did not know how to. 

“shut up. just...ugh!” she spat, sitting up. He backed away from her a little bit. She glared at him, gritting her teeth. The rag was thrown across the bathroom, hitting the wall with a smack.

“I’m just tryna fuckin help you? What’s your problem?” He spat. She stood up. Moonlight shined on her back through the large frosted window that faced beautiful woods. 

“m-m...my problem? you...ya...you’ve gotta be kidding, right?” she stammered out. Her knees shook and her stomach churned from the pressure of her standing up, but she didn’t care.

“You...you’re the one with the fuckin issues here, you weirdo...why do you even want....wanna help me?? You hate me!” she yelled. Tears pricked at the back of her eyes.

“Mina...I...I don’t...” Bakugo argued, taking a step towards her. She took a step back.

“Get...go away...” she warned. 

Bakugo took another step, trying to get her away from the window. 

But it was too late. 

The floor was wet and slick, and she was barely able to stand as it was.  Those two factors mixed together meant that she lost her footing. Fast.

Her petite body crashed through the window backwards. Shattered glass rained down to earth as she screamed. Luckily, Uraraka and Hatsume were on their way out of the house and towards their uber when she was falling. Uraraka wasn’t able to stop her fall, as she hadn’t touched her before it happened. The two girls sreamed, rushing towards Mina and hurridly calling 911. Hatsume looked up to see Bakugo at the window.

He could only stare down at her limp body, wide eyed and in shock. 

“This is just too far! Why? Why?!” Hatsume screeched. Uraraka couldn’t even bring herself to look at him.

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

When Mina woke up, she was surrounded by all of her closest friends. 

Everyone was throwing questions at her. A police officer stood in the corner, notebook in hand.

“Did he do it on purpose?” asked one person.

Another questioned, “Was he drunk?”

“Is this the first time he’s hit you?” a third quizzed.

She answered none of these questions. All she could do was stare at the ceiling in silence.

“Where is he?” she asked, her voice stoic and monotone. Everyone was silent at that. 

“He’s...not here.” Uraraka answered finally. Mina nodded, wiping away a stray tear. 

“Thanks for showing up, guys...but, can you give me some time? Please?” she requested meekly. 

“I’ll buy lunch,” Tenya offered, breaking the silence that filled the room. 

Soon, Mina was alone. 

She sighed, inspecting the room she was in. White. Sterile. Boring. All except for a lovely boquet sat on the table next to her bed. She picked it up, looking at each flower. Most were pink, matching her skin, but others were yellow and orange. She smiled at the cute colors. 

She turned the vase around, not seeing any note or indication of who they were from.

“Like em?” a voice asked from the doorway. Mina jumped, looking up. 

It was Bakugo. 

“Yeah,” is all she could manage to say. She cursed herself for not saying some nasty comback. 

He approached the bed, sitting gently on the edge. He was silent for a good while, looking at the floor.

“Don’t worry, I didn’t tell the cops that you pushed me out of the window or anything,” she scowled, placing the vase back onto the table and crossing her arms. 

He shook his head, sighing deeply. 

“Thats...not it...” 

She scoffed. 

“You hate me, don’t you?” Bakugo spat. 

“What?” 

“Just be honest with me. Please.” 

She sat, wideeyed and dumbfounded for a good few seconds. She always thought he was the one who hated her. 

“I...” she scrunched up her face, thinking of what to say. 

But she knew words wouldn’t cut it at this point. 

She sat up in the bed. He looked over at her as she leaned forward, gently taking his cheek in her hand.

His face began to heat up. He looked away.  However, his attention was brought back to her when she placed her other hand on his cheek and brought him in for a kiss.

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Protea (Part 5)

She hears Snapdragon before she sees her. That steady and familiar clank-clack of her necklace. Mai could swear that she has added more knick-knacks to it. Her eyes hone in on it for a moment. She wonders if maybe the woman swaps out which trinkets she wears around her neck every now and again, or maybe she simply has several of these necklaces.

“No flowers today?”

“I’m all out?”

“All out?”

“I was only planning on sticking around until the festival was over.”

Snapdragon’s brows crinkle. “But I thought…” She swallows. “Mohi’s gonna be mighty disappointed.”

It dawns upon her that she had forgotten to mention that when she had offered the woman a job. “Stop looking at me like that, I’ve decided to stay.”

The woman seems to perk up again. Mai doesn’t think that she has ever seen someone’s eyes light up so brightly.

“What made you decide to stay?”

“I guess that I needed a little excitement in my life.”

“Oh. Where are ya gonna get that?”

Mai quirks a brow. Snapdragon points to herself and Mai nods. “I’ve never explored an abandoned industrial park before. My parents would kill me.”

“Where are you gonna be staying?”

“The palace.”

“The palace. How did you manage to get room there?”

“I used to date the Fire Lord.”

She blinks.

“It’s a long story. It ends...not so well. But he owes me and my family so I’m staying there.”

“That’s incredible. I’ve never been in a palace. Unless you count the factory. Sometimes I call that my palace and I made myself this throne, I can show it to you one day.” She resembles. Mai folds her arms and gives a slight smile as she continues. “But an actual palace...maybe one day you can take me there!”

“The flowers aren’t in yet so we have a few days off. I can take you there now, if you want. We can get you to the royal spa and wash some of this dirt off of your cheeks.”

“It’s not dirt, it’s oil and grease.”

“Because that’s much better. Come on.” Just as she turns around she catches Snapdragon rubbing her cheek. The effort was valiant and well-intended but she has only spread the grime to her nose and the back of her hand. Mai wonders if the woman will even take well to having a real bath.

.oOo.

Up close the palace is twice as thrilling with its spoked and multi-tiered roof. What a delight it would be to get the chance to shimmy her way up the side of it and leap from tier to tier. To grip those large golden spokes and find footholds in the windows and on the balconies. Of course, she wouldn’t trade her factory for it but the offer is pretty.

It is only when she lingers in its shadow that it becomes so terribly daunting. It isn’t so much about it’s impressive, awestricking size as it is the promise of what waits for her inside. All of those glamorous people and their lavish lifestyles. Their clean faces and pristine manners.

“Come on.” Mai gives her a gentle nudge.

She quietly follows her up the stairs. More stairs than she has ever ascended in her life.

“Nervous?”

“Why do you say that?”

“You aren’t chattering my ears off.”

“This isn’t nervous silence, it’s a...uh...it’s a happy hush.”

“A happy hush?” Mai quirks a brow. For once her amusement is quite thinly veiled. “If you say so.”

Inside the palace is somehow more elegant than its grand exterior. Portraits and tapestries cover gold trimmed walls. Candles flicker in filigree wall holders fixed to many great pillars. Everything is huge, almost absurdly so. She wanders up to a vase and eyes it. She thinks that she can squirm her way into and stand within with her head only just peeking out of it. She makes off to try when Mai says, “I know what you’re thinking. Don’t you dare crawl into that pot.”

Snapdragon frowns and scrambles to catch up with her.

“You really like exploring, don’t you?”

She nods, “you should see the jungles of Hira’a. They were really fun to explore. I was found in a jungle, you know?”

“That explains a lot.”

They pass by several guards and servants. Their eyes seem to follow her. The unease works its way back in, pushing out her sense of adventure. She finds that the stares of the servants have nothing on the glances she receives when Mai leads her into the banquet hall. Around the table are what she can imagine are councilmen, esteemed generals, and noble folk.

She had made a small effort to clean herself up today but she feels absolutely filthy amid all of them. They all smell so pleasantly and there isn’t a smudge of mud on them at all. Not on their finery and certainly not on their skin. Her tummy turns with flutters and queasiness.

“It’s alright.” Mai assures her.

“I don’t think I fit in well with this lot.”

The murmur as Mai leads her past them and she finds herself sticking close to the woman.

“Hi, Mai.” The Fire Lord greets.

“Zuko.” Mai returns the greeting.

“Who is this?”

“Just call her Snapdragon. You’ll understand if you talk to her more.” She pauses. “She wanted to see the palace so I’m giving her the tour and taking her to the spa.”

“Please do.” Comments a man near the far end of the table. “She smells of industrial waste.”

“She smells like an alley dweller.”

Snapdragon stuffs her hands into her pockets and tries to focus on something else. Something like the food. She has never seen so much of it in one place. She thinks that they have everything here; teeming blows of various and colorful fruits, plump roast duck, cabbage stew, miso soup, and plenty of noodles. And it all smells so enticing--unlike her, apparently.

“If you want to take her there you can and then you can join us for dinner. She can wear one of Azula’s outfits.”

At least some jubilance returns to her. She’s going to get to taste the delightfully scented food. Not only is she going to eat lavishly but she will get to do it in comfortable robes.

“This way.” Mai beckons.

The room she finds herself in next is also amazing. The dragon reliefs jutting from the backmost wall gleam in the sunlight that pours through a wide slit on the ceiling. There are plenty of shiny things in here. Glass bottles in many shapes and sizes, golden combs and brushes, a few small sculptures, and these little polished stones that accent the corners of each table. Snapdragon looks to the left and to the right before swiping one of the empty bottles and a polished stone.

“How are you not in jail?”

“I take worthless stuff, I don’t get caught, ‘n you don’t tattle.”

“You can keep the bottle, they won’t miss that. But, remember when you told me that sometimes you find stuff that isn’t trash and so people chase you?”

She nods.

“The stones aren’t trash. They’re rare gems and you will get chased.” She swipes the gemstone back and puts it at the corner of the table. “By the palace guard.”

Snapdragon rubs the back of her head. “I’ll just keep the bottle.” She sits herself down and leans back. The chair isn’t exactly comfortable and the sink is cool on her neck. Though it becomes significantly more pleasant when the servants arrive and begin scrubbing shampoo into her hair. Yet it is still so jarring to find herself being spoiled like this. And she still has a bath waiting for her. They are surprisingly gentle when working the more matted knots out of her hair. A few times they cut the knots out entirely. They finish washing her hair and sit her up. She didn’t realize that she’d be getting a haircut.

“There were a lot of knots that we couldn’t work with.” One of the servants apologizes softly. “We’re going to cut your hair and make it even.”

She stammers out a word or two of consent and by the time that they are done with her, her head feels so much lighter.

“I’ll show you to your bath.”

She follows the girl to the bathroom and slips out of her dirty robe. Once she gets herself situated the servant offers smiles, “would you like me to?”

“Like you to what?”

The girl laughs. “Give you a scrub.” She gently rubs the soap against Snapdragon’s shoulder. “Some nobles enjoy not having to do any of the work. The princess let us soap her back and arms but preferred to do the rest herself.”

“Oh…” she replies. “I’ll do it myself.” It is one thing to lounge in the communal bath and another entirely to let someone get that touchy.”

The girl hands her the bar of soap. “When you are done with it you can hand it back.” She gestures to another girl. “And when you are ready to get out Yora has your towel ready.

Snapdragon nods. She hadn’t realized that bathing was such a complex ritual.

“Try to relax.” Yora says. “We’re here to make bath time more leisurely for you.”

She supposes that it is nice to not have to scamper around for a towel and a change of clothes. She sinks into the tub and scrubs away at her arms until the water is dirtied. They drain it and fill it again until it comes away crystal clear. A floral aroma rises in languid curls of steam and she feels herself drifting off. She ought to savor the comfort because she probably won’t get a chance like this again.

“Aren’t you hungry?” Mai calls into the room.

The reminder leaves her belly rumbling so she gestures for the towel. She wraps it around her body and Yora pats her hair dry with a second one. The first serving girl hands her the most elegant robes.

.oOo.

She looks rather lovely. Well groomed and without that layer of, Snapdragon is rather pretty. Her eyes are wide and bright. Her freckled and soft. If not for the gaps in her teeth and her gangly limbs, she could very well pass for nobility.

That is until she actually takes her seat and begins eating. She doesn’t do it with the poise that the rest of them do. In fact she is a fast eater and she doesn’t bother with silverware nor chopsticks. Not even with the soups. She makes her way through the platters eating only bits and pieces, as though she can’t decide what to eat. And Mai think that, that is just it. She has so many options that she doesn’t know which to choose. Her innocent curiosity is almost endearing. If only she had some table manners.

At last Snapdragon seems to find a favorite and focuses on a helping of roast duck.

“Very good.” She says between mouthfuls.

Mai’s face flushes for her. The woman is clearly blessed with obliviousness and with her focus entirely on enjoying her meal she is spared the weight of a roomful of judging glowers. The only other person who doesn’t openly gawk at her is Zuko, who makes an effort to look away. She guesses that he understands what it is like to be spellbound and captured by the grandeur of the palace and its spoils.

Mai taps her and Snapdragon looks up from her roast duck. “You might want to slow down, you’re going to make yourself sick.”

And the ignorance is gone. Her face flushes. “They’re all staring at me.”

Mai grimaces. “Yeah. That too.”

She has to admire the woman’s resilience. She finishes her roast duck and a bowl of miso soup in spite of the disgusted stares. She helps herself to a small dessert as well--a bite or two of mochi--before setting it down.

.oOo.

Snapdragon leans back in her chair. She doesn’t think that she has ever been this full in her life. She certainly didn’t realize that being so full could ache like being completely empty. Though it is a much different kind of ache. A more sluggish, heavy ache. She supposes that it beats the painful, yearning kind.

“You feel nauseous, don’t you?” Mai rolls her eyes. “I told you to slow down.”

“I never get this much at Mohi’s place. I wanted to try…”

“A bit of everything.” Mai nods. “I can bring you back here again, you know.”

She surveys the table. Many of the nobles are pushing in their chairs and shooting her begrudging parting glances. “Do you think that’sa good idea?”

Mai shrugs. “Who cares. Honestly, I think that this place could use someone like you. It wouldn’t be so dull and uptight if everyone here wasn’t so…”

“If they didn’t act like someone shoved a prickly pear up their...”

Mai chuckles before cutting her off. “I was going to say rigid. But, yeah, that too.”

Snapdragon folds her arms across her chest.

“You got some sauce on your face.” She dabs at the corner of the woman’s mouth. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“I can’t stay here. Mohi gets worried. She ain’t say it but I know she does.”

“Alright, I’ll let Zuko know that I’m taking you home.”

She shakes her head. “I don’t recommend that. Jus’ let me go, the streets ‘round Mohi’s ain’t nice at night.”

“Then I’ll tell Zuko to loan you a pellinquin.”

“I can walk by myself, I’m used to it. One time I took down three muggers, I only got one black eye and my nose was really swollen and…”

“I’ll also bring a few guards along.”

.oOo.

“Are you sure that you want to leave? If you want you can stay in the palace with Mai.” Zuko offers.

“I’m sure.” Snapdragon nods. “I like being in my nest.”

“Your nest?”

“Don’t get her started on that, Zuko.”

“It isn’t any trouble. I think that it would be nice to have you around a little longer.”

“Uh...no thanks.” Snapdragon murmurs. “I’ll come back with Mai some time.”

“The nobles were making you uncomfortable, weren’t they? They’re usually not around.”

“I don’t think I belong in a palace.” Snapdragon says. “It’s easier out there, you know what’s goin’ on in people's heads. Nobles like to be all secretive and slick. That’s what Mohi says. In the streets you get punched in the face and then you know who to look out for. You never know who hates you in a place like this.” She takes a breath. “I mean I do ‘cause I guess that I’m such a freak that they couldn’t hide how they felt.”

“You’re not a freak, Snapdragon.” Mai sighs. “All of these people have decades of etiquette training. Do you know how hard they drill this stuff into your head? If you ask me, that’s what’s freaky.”

“Did they drill it into your head?”

Mai sighs, “why do you think I’m so…” she gives Zuko a pointed stare. “Blah.”

“You ain’t blah.”

“Thanks.” She mutters. “Can you loan us that pellinquin now, Zuko.”

He inhales sharply. “I’ll get a few guards to accompany you.”

“Do you want to come back here some time?” Mai askes. “Or have you been traumatized.”

“I don’t really like the folks here but…” She holds a hand to her tummy, “the food is great and,” she runs her fingers through her hair, “it’s nice to be all clean. Jasmine smells nice.”

“How about this, I’ll tomorrow I’ll meet you at the factory and I can teach you some palace etiquette.”

“I still wanna be in my nest.”

“We can converse in the palace gardens and in your factory. Don’t you want to explore a new place.”

Snapdragon nods.

Mai takes just a moment to wonder just what she is getting herself into. But, Agni, the woman had been so delighted when she stepped into the palace. She supposes that Snapdragon will be worth the hassle of...of dealing with Snapdragon. Mai’s lips quirk up into a slight smile. “Alright, let’s get you back to Mohi’s.”

[oddlybitter]

Another excerpt from upcoming Sporting Life chapter - Nothing Can Possibly Go Wrong

CW: Swearing, Abuse mention, Internalized Homophobia, Injury, Drinking, Child Abuse mention, Drinking mention.

please note that this does talk about trauma that both Akechi and Futaba have, so please keep that in mind as you read! it’s a little heavy. (if there is anything else you want me to tag, please let me know)

If one had to spare the details, Goro spent the next hour getting hammered on shitty vodka that tasted like candy. However, if one had a wealth of time on their hands, then the full story would reveal how he got drunk and a few more catalysts that would eventually add up to make the Worst Hangover Goro Akechi Would Get, Ever. 

It really started as he pushed off the wall, leaving Haru behind in a sea of people that he didn't really like, marching into any other room he could find. Somehow, Makoto's restraining wasn't enough to keep Ann from the party, and she waved at him as she expertly carried out the maneuver for a physically perfect kegstand. Her girlfriend watched on in disgust, admiration, and quite possibly (but inexplicably) attraction. 

"I'm very impressed. Mildly scared, but impressed." He said, watching Ann remove an arm and wave to someone in her gathering audience. 

Makoto took a long gulp of her beer, and nodded dismally. "Tell me about it. I have to deal with this when the party's over." 

The cheers reach a crescendo, and Ann, somehow coherent, did a little cartwheel onto her feet. "Yeah! Beat that, Iida-from-AP-chemistry!" 

Iida-from-AP-chemistry did not, in fact, beat that. 

Traipsing over to Makoto and Goro, Ann flicked her pigtails over her shoulder and scanned the linebacker's face with an eerie stare. "What's eating you?"

"Nothing is," He cleared his throat, encapsulating his next words with air  quotes, "'eating me.'" 

Shrugging, Ann made a noise of half-hearted agreement. "Fair enough, keep your cards close to your chest. Though some card games are played better with two, am I right?" 

Makoto rolled her eyes as Ann's face shifted into a mischievous smirk. "Ann..."

"What, babe? I'm just trying to help things along for our dear Joker." She said, nuzzling her face into the crook of Makoto's neck like a tired cat.  

Tired of her antics, Goro stormed through to the next room, the lights a different color than the others. It felt a little like walking through the layers of Hell. Still, he proceeded through all of them, looking for an empty one, taking a small bottle of alcohol as he went. 

Finding another wall to slump against and brood, Goro watched the glistening pool in the Takamaki's back yard, taking off the bottle cap with his teeth. The look on Haru's face as he left, the sound of the quiet whimper of fear from Futaba as she sat outside his door when he was upset, the way he felt when Akira fucking Kurusu looked at him through his eyelashes, all of them felt like consecutive punches to the gut. Goro's head hit the back of the wall with a dull thud, and through the darkness of the room, he could see the reflection of the water on the ceiling. 

After finishing off the bottle, Goro knew he should probably have given Futaba a message about how much fun he was not having. Futaba's chat icon stared up at him, a tiny cat in a frog hat, and the worst thing he could possibly think of doing was letting her hear his voice. He knew Shido didn't have an issue with alcohol, and he was more or less still coherent enough to pass as only slightly tipsy. It didn't help that on the night of his anniversaries with Wakaba and Goro's mother, Shido broke out the heavy bottles, and they sparkled like dangerous jewels behind the glass cabinet he kept locked. Slurring words and biting tones were all Futaba needed to hear to start shaking, twisting her shirt in her hands, and cowering away from any sharp movements. Goro had too many memories of applying bruise salve to her face, and on quite possibly the worst night of their lives, the dark, hand-shaped bruise that clasped around her neck. 

So instead of calling his sister, Goro spared the pain and texted her. 

"There you are." A voice called out, a tall silhouette standing in the doorway. "Was wondering where the introverts' room was." 

Goro snorted, knocking back another bottle and leaving it by the other one. Checking again, he found that yes, there were two bottles there. How he got his hands on that other one was beyond him, but the fact he was actually inebriated really sunk in then.

Walking into the cold light reflected from the pool, Akira walked over to him, a can of beer in one hand and the other tucked into his pocket. "Can I join you?" 

Waving his hand in indifference, Goro made a noncommittal noise. Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Akira crouched down next to him, poking his cheek.

"Yikes, you look like you could use some fresh air." He slid his shoulder underneath Goro's arm, pulling him to his feet. "There we go, up and at 'em, champ."

"Don't call me champ. It makes you sound old." Goro frowned, believing he could walk just fine without Akira's assistance, leaning away from him and opening the door to Ann's balcony. 

Placing a hand between his shoulder blades, Akira hissed sharply. "Shit, be careful. We don't need any casualties at a Takamaki party."

Rolling Akira's hand off his back, the linebacker gave him a sour look. "I'm perfectly capable of moving without your assistance."

"Looks like you sobered up enough to be smart-mouthed." The dark-haired boy snorted. 

Goro sighed, watching the rippling lines trace the underside of Akira's face, playing across his skin like liquid moonlight. His chest tightened painfully, and he looked away, instead choosing to run a hand through his hair. At one point, he was sure it was tied back, pulled out of his face, but it hung loose, just brushing his shoulders. Akira hummed a noise that Goro couldn't decipher the tone of. 

"Your hair," He stated, "it's long." 

Giving him a slow clap, Goro nodded. "Ever considered a job in, say, the detective business? They could use a sharp brain like yours." 

Akira laughed, somehow taking Goro's scathing insults like water to a duck's plumage. "I meant it in, like, a nice way. Long hair suits you. Makes you look pretty." 

The wry smile immediately fell from Goro's face, and he dug his nails into the palms of his hands. The way his chest was fluttering was simply, irrevocably wrong. There were rules he had to play by, and letting himself get swept up into Akira's charming whirlpool of "nice" was breaking every single one of them. 

"I probably need to cut it, then. Gets in the way, you know." He mused, ruffling the back of his head.

Suddenly realizing that Akira was close enough for Goro to smell the scent of his fruit-flavored beer, his fingers twisting through the longer strands of his hair, a hot flush crept up the back of his neck. Almost as if he was transfixed, Akira's hand stayed at the base of Goro's neck, the heel of his palm barely touching his jaw. Distractedly, Akira's grip tightened, and Goro sucked in a breath, leaning into the touch. 

As if struck by lightning, they sprung away from each other, attempting to regain their composure by leaning against the balcony railing. 

"Sorry," Akira muttered, taking a sip of his beer. 

Goro made a face. "What even is that? Smells like melted candy." 

A short laugh left Akira's lips. "Says the guy who inhaled two bottles of Ann's disgusting lime vodka." 

"Well, that's entirely the point," Goro explained, "it's disgusting, so obviously, I want more." 

Throwing his head back with laughter, the quarterback leaned his head on his hand. "That makes no sense whatsoever."

A beat of silence fell between them, the summer night's breeze running across Goro's skin like water. Guiltily, Akira turned around, leaning his  elbows on the railing, and giving Goro a look that read "sad puppy." 

"So, hate to bring this up again, but you and Haru, huh? You're really broken up?" He asked, training his eyes on the doors. 

Scowling, Goro gave him the iciest look he could muster. "Oh, of course. That's why you're here. Trying to make a good impression on your new conquest's ex? She's not a fucking vase, Kurusu. She doesn't need my  permission to do anything, much less my approval." 

Sighing, Akira ran a hand through his hair, a pained expression on his face.  "No, that's not why I'm here. It's not even why I brought you here. I wanted -" 

Anger flared like a snare drum in Goro's bones, and he snapped his head around to properly look at the dark-haired boy, clenching the railing of the balcony tightly. "That's all you do, isn't it? Want everything, ignore everything you already have, pretend that what you're asking for is trivial."

"That's not -" 

"You will never, ever understand," He finished, "that you already have everything." 

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the only sound between them was the quiet whirring of the pool's chlorinator and the hollow sound of bass-boosted music. 

Breaking the silence with an equally fragile voice, Akira didn't even look at him. "I wanted to tell you that it was never about Haru. I'm sorry if that got mixed up, but honestly, I could never see her that way. I guess it backfired." 

"You fucking asshole." Goro hissed. "You really dislike me that much that you literally tear me away from -"

Rolling his eyes in exasperation, the quarterback turned on his heel, standing up straight. "If you would just let me finish speaking, you'd hear that I don't hate you! Not in the slightest." 

Helplessly lost, Goro pushed off the railing to stand in front of Akira, glaring furiously at his face. A mere inch separated them, and he could smell the sweet scent of that stupid beer on his breath. "Then what the hell do you think you're doing?" 

"For someone so smart, you're so fucking stupid." Akira breathed. 

Then, sliding his hands into Goro's hair, he cupped his face and leaned in, kissing him. 

[hold-my-hand-kuroo]

A Bouquet For You || 02 - Carnation

A Bouquet For You Masterlist

taglist: @disgruntled-gay @moonchild-kun94 @skyguy-peach @error707-thememelord @o51oc @nanacee @prettysetter @sugawsites @shareyourfandomfaves

The next morning is exactly what you feared. You wake up late, missing the three alarms that you had set for yourself, and after some deliberation, you decide to go without breakfast. Not your best idea, but between being late on your first day or a hearty meal, you’d choose the former any day. First impressions were important.

“Are you sure you’re not going to eat?” Kenma asks, watching you fumble around with your shoes at the doorway. “Or actually, where are you even going this early?”

“Work. First day,” you say hurriedly. Turning the doorknob, you turn back to give him a quick wave or something similar to it. “See you. I’ll be back later tonight.”

“B-bye?” he responds like a question. After all, Kenma still doesn’t understand why you’re conversing with him like a real person. The feeling of living with someone after so long feels foreign, and he’s continuously caught by surprise with your behavior. Even a rush, you still poured a glass of milk for him, forgetting that spirits don’t need calcium for strong bones. He drank it nonetheless, being very confused.

Work is exactly what you had imagined it to be. Hell. Within your very first hour, you’re bombarded with new tasks and papers. “Experience is key,” your supervisor had said, but between the directions being fired at you and more coworkers just giving you endless stacks of files, you quickly are at a loss for what to do. Between flipping through the manual and managing your work properly, you find yourself already utterly exhausted by lunch break.

Lunch break. That was your next problem. Nobody wanted to involve themselves with the new, troublesome rookie, leaving you to eat on your own, albeit quickly, because you wanted to get things done.

“D-do you mind if I sit here with you?” a small, shaky voice stammers. You look up from scrolling through your phone to see a short, blonde woman. She grips tightly at her lunch bag, eyes quivering. “You don’t have to let me, though! I don’t want to be too pushy!”

“I don’t mind!” you answer kindly, offering the chair next to you. You watch as the woman of nerves shakily takes the spot. “Actually, thanks for offering. I was worried that I was going to have a hard time getting along with other people.”

“It’s always hard on the first day. I’ve been here for a few months, and it’s still really difficult for me!” she agrees. She seems more relaxed, shoulders going down slightly. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, the woman opens her lunch before jolting upright. “I’m sorry! I never introduced myself. I’m Yachi Hitoka!”

You vaguely remember her name, and you realize that it’s the person whose desk is right next to you. You’re embarrassed, to say the least, realizing that you barely made sufficient introductions to the people around you. Offering your own name in turn and apologizing profusely, the two of you get along better than expected. As it turns out, Yachi, though having only been at the company for less than half a year, was a designer genius. Often tasked to be the leader of poster projects, your coworker who seemed only to be made out of nerves was a master at what she did. You hoped to be like her one day.

“It’s a little rough at first,” she admits, wiping stray crumbs off the table, “but you’ll be fine. To be honest, I saw some of the samples you sent in with your resume. Just a peek though! Your pattern-designing is really interesting and pretty, so I think they’ll be useful in the future. If you need any help…you know…feel free to ask me.”

After lunch, you feel like a new person. You’re not sure if it’s just getting food in your system, or Yachi’s genuine optimism and show of support, but you’re determined to work harder. After getting chewed out by your supervisor for making multitudes of errors in the files, you’re back at rock bottom again. Expected.

Walking out of the office building, you trudge your way back home, squeezing your way through the mob of people all rushing to get back home at the station. Taking the train was economical on your part, but a massive hellish experience. You always took notice to stay near the doors, but eventually, people would just push you toward the middle, and you’d be stuck there. Pushing your way back out was a million times worse, as you never felt good about shoving other passengers, even if their actions warranted it.

From there, you carefully follow your GPS back to your apartment complex on foot. You didn’t exactly know yet the area that well, so you were careful to not get lost. As you’re walking, you stop and notice the little florist shop and its display of pink and red flowers. They’re small, and the way the setting sun hits the freshly watered petals, reflecting glimmers of light, fascinates you. Walking closer toward the shop, you lean down and admire the delicate beauty in awe.

“Sorry, but that’s just display. We’re currently out of carnations,” a familiar deep voice informs, followed by the closing and locking of the door. You look up to the source and let out an audible gasp. “Oh, hey. It’s you.”

“So that’s what you meant last night by cutting and dying,” you muse, looking at your neighbor and the daffodils he has in hand. “And here I thought you were some kind of gang leader.”

“I suppose what I said taken out of context sounds pretty bad,” he chuckles, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. He looks down at his bouquet and motions them toward you. “I was gonna give you this when I got back, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. Here. Congratulations on moving in, Neighbor.”

“Thanks,” you laugh, graciously accepting the house-warming gift. “Although, it’d be better if I could get a name to thank. I’m Y/N by the way.”

“Shit, did I never mention a name?” he murmurs, tsking. You almost laugh again. Poor introductions seemed to be a pattern, and you were one of the worst offenders. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou. I’m, as you can see, the owner of this shop. Some people call me a florist, but I’m really a plant magician.”

“I’m sure you are,” you reply with a roll of your eyes. “Did you just get off from work?”

“Yup. This shop closes every day at 7 PM. Won’t be catching me doing overtime.”

“What about last night?”

“Except when I forget things, which usually doesn’t happen,” Kuroo clarifies with a smirk. He glances at your offense attire and raises a brow. “First day not so good, huh? Are you going home? I’d be willing to lend an ear if you’d like.”

“How kind of you,” you sigh, then nod tiredly. “It’s my second day here, and I already have a therapist. Lovely.”

“It’s good to complain a little from time to time.”

Following the florist, you hum a little in contemplation. Then, taking a deep breath, you being to talk about how terrible your day was and how you’ve been yelled at more times today than ever in your life and that reading the manual over and over again actually didn’t help, but none of the senior workers were very approachable. To be honest, you felt a little bit silly, opening up so quickly to a stranger, but once you started, you couldn’t stop. In fact, you don’t even notice when you’re right in front of the door to your apartment room until you hear the jingling of Kuroo’s own keys.

“Sorry, I got a little carried away,” you murmur, embarrassed for what seemed to be the millionth time that day. “I didn’t mean to rant-“

“But you look so much better after letting a little bit of steam off,” Kuroo interrupts, flashing you an insanely bright smile. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Since we’re neighbors that share the same route home, let’s just be friends, yeah?”

“Y-yeah?” you say like a question. “I mean, yeah. Sounds good.”

“Then, see you around, or maybe tomorrow, Y/N,” the florist concludes, unlocking the door to his room, already halfway in. “Hope tomorrow goes better for you.”

“Thanks,” you reply, giving him a wave before stepping into your own home. Setting your shoes aside, you quickly wonder what to do with the flowers. It’s not like you had a vase ready, so you take an empty water bottle out from the recycling instead. Carefully setting the yellow buds into the container, you leave it at the center of the table, deciding that the centerpiece brought a little life into your apartment.

“Hey,” you hear Kenma murmur, walking out of your room with console in hand. You then remember that you really did more life in your apartment. “Nice flowers.”

“You’re not even looking at them,” you chuckle and roll your eyes. “The neighbor gave them to me. Do you like them?”

“They’re fine.”

You laugh again at his aloof attitude and try to throw away the parchment paper that was used to wrap the bouquet. It’s until then that you notice a small note flutter down onto the floor. You bend over and pick it up, wondering if it’s a price tag or something of the sort.

“Hey, it’s Kuroo. You probably already knew that lol. Anyways, I hope u like daffodils. Keep them away from direct heat, and they should live for a while. Since we both seem to be like night owls, feel free to cure my of my boredom. XXX-XXX-XXXX”

“Why are you smiling in the middle of the kitchen?” Kenma asks, brow raised, and in hindsight, you must have looked dumb. If a ghost thought you were creepy, the look you had on must have been just terrible.

“Nothing,” you say quickly and scramble to set the note aside. You know he doesn’t buy it, but you don’t care or want to elaborate on how the florist next door’s kindness made you feel unusually warm. Surprisingly, finding your first friend in a new area was much more relieving that you had expected it to be, especially when your new friend seemed so open and lived close by. “It’s just a note on how to take care of the daffodils.”

“Oh.” There’s a brief silence, and you brush it off as him going back to his game. “I guess that’s fitting since they mean new beginnings or something like that.”

Now that was odd coming from a ghost who couldn’t even remember why he was still here.

“How do you know that?” You watch as he comes to a realization too, eyes widening ever so slightly out of sheer surprise. HIs reaction reassures you that he isn’t lying to you about the amnesia, and you let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m not sure.” He’s frowning, seeming to rack his mind for any clue, anything at all to remind him of where his knowledge came from and why he couldn’t move on. It’s all fruitless in the end. “I…really don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure, giving him a small smile. “It doesn’t matter that much anyway. I don’t mind cooking another portion, especially when you eat so little. Or maybe I eat a lot- Well, whatever.”

From the couch, Kenma nods and sinks into the cushions. Still, he wants to know why out of everything he could have remembered, why were they the flowers. In his current state, he can’t imagine himself as a flower buff in the past; hell, he doesn’t remember being the sun, but every morning when it rises, he feels like he’d hate to be in it, so if he can’t stand the outdoors now, he probably couldn’t either in the past. He thinks hard and long, but when you call him and tell him that’s dinner’s ready, all he can do is give up and go listen about your day.

It’s all so strange, he thinks.

[monicaexol]

EXO Imagines

~ The love Shot ~

Warning: Mentions of guns and blood. Read with caution.

Minseok (Xiumin)

You began wiping down the tables, rubbing away alcohol, possible kiss stains and other strange substances that you didn’t even want to try and name. What you did was not your dream job, but working in this bar was paying the bills, no matter how disgusting it was.

The disco lights had dimmed, though the rhythmic beat of the music still lingered against your eardrums, like series of footsteps echoing in the area. And you could’ve sworn that your ears were playing tricks on you, that is until you lifted your tired gaze, only to find a line of black shoes enter the bar.

You trace your sight from his shoes, slowly up the rank of his body, and along the way your eyes met a briefcase clutched in his right hand. His hair was sleek, pressed back so his forehead showed. Frozen, your heartbeat thudded along with the beats of faded music.

Wordlessly, Minseok moves towards you. In a panicked state, you reached behind yourself, grabbing an empty beer bottle to point in his direction, “N-not another step closer or-” You mumble, blood gushing to your ears. His sharp eyes look into yours, cutting your words. The mafia boss let’s out a smirk and pushes the suitcase onto the table before turning on his heels to leave.

You stare with wide eyes, shaking hands and a potentially collapsed lung. He retrieves out along with his suited gang as if nothing happened. Now, with curiosity and fear swimming in your veins, you decide to force open the suitcase. Stacked notes were piled one of top of the other, this much money could last you the next twenty years!

But on top of those notes, lay a rose with a small, folded piece of paper underneath. With a small tremble, you open it, “It’s true that I spill red blood for a living. But for you, I can stop. And I’ll take my proposal as a yes, if you accept my red rose instead.”

Junmyeon (Suho)

When you had signed up for a job as a translator, being trapped in this sort of situation was not what you expected. He swivels on his seat, dark eyes glinting with reflections of knives. Junmyeon picks one up, pointing the blade towards a stiff looking man who sat on the opposite side of the long table.

“I’m ready to merge cooperations with him, only if I hold overall control of business activities.” Your tight lips break apart for the first time tonight, and you croak out the words, translating for your boss who sat staring at his soon to be parter. A strange silence emits in the room, and you prayed that no one could hear the thudding beats of your hearts.

No, this was definitely not what you expected. But how on earth could you leave when every corner of the building was guarded by furious looking gunned men? The man shakes his head, “I’ve been brought here against my will. Ask why a mafia boss like him wants to buy a jewellery company?” You stared at the man, confusion suddenly tweaking the cognitives of your mind.

Why did your boss want to buy a jewellery company? You steal a glance from the corner of your eye, being sat next to him was not making it any easier for your nerves to control themselves. “Sir, h-he wants to know why you’re interested in owning a jewellery company?” Junmyeon cranes his neck, eyes finally looking into yours.

Somewhere in that moment, you felt as if you were taking your final breath. Raising his hand, he holds the knife against your throat, “I want to buy jewellery that shines brighter than any knife under my light.” Goosebumps rise on your skin, gushing blood kicks in and your adrenaline screams for your body to react.

But all that came to a sudden standstill when he placed the knife on the table, “I’m buying this company for you,” he holds his breath for a second, “It has the finest jewellery, including the most beautiful ring I’ve ever seen. I don’t want any other woman to wear it, only you deserve to.”

Yixing (Lay)

You shuffle on your seat, dim lighting deafening the words on your page. The library has never been this empty before, but somehow you didn’t feel alone when you were engulfed by stories with brave characters. You flip the page and begin reading, when suddenly, someone pulls the chair in front of yours out from under the table.

You jump in surprise, losing your concentration. Glancing up, you find a familiar pair of guilty eyes casting down. He smiles apologetically, lifting his hand in defence. And you let out the breath you didn’t intend to hold. He sits and begins reading. But even in the midst of all these words, you couldn’t help but want to read his eyes.

It’s as if they were stealing glances of you, peeking at the words on your page, or maybe into your eyes. He always did this, but he never said much. So before you could question him, he breaks the awkward silence himself. “Listen, it’s not as empty in here as you think.” He was still looking down at his book, his words just a breath louder than a whisper.

“If you want to survive, run with me.” With an arched brow, you let a scoff. “Is this some kind of joke? Because-“ His eyes widen, “Y/N!” How does he know your name? A bullet shoots between you both, knocking a painting on the wall to the ground and leaving a fine hole in the wall. You gulp, wide eyed, hands suddenly shaking out of control.

Before you could register anything, you felt your hand being grabbed. He was panting, and you were in far worse condition by the time you made it down to the second floor of the library. Footsteps followed, glass shattered and bullets left holes in every inanimate object. God forbid it hit you.

“Who-who are they? And what the fuck do they want?” You ask, groaning with pain in your chest. The lack of oxygen from running was close to knocking you out, but he squeezes your hand reassuringly. “They want you.” Confusion hits you harder than a bullet, “But why?” He stops, licking his lips before whispering, “Because I love you.”

Baekhyun

“Not him again.” You mumble under your breath, straightening up the bed before opening the door to let him in. He walks slow, pace a little out of control while limps on his left leg. But he too, is mumbling quietly, probably whining about how much his bruises hurt.

You never really spoke much, never questioned why he was hurt, or who did it. You were a nurse, those questions had been dealt with by the police, so it was none of your concern. Though those thoughts were thrown out of your mind when you pulled back his shirt, revealing the huge gash across his back, “W-what happened?” You ask, holding back a gasp.

When you glanced at his face, his tired features somehow spiralled into a soft smile. “You finally asked...” He whispers, taking note of the furrow of your brows. The cut was deep, cotton pads wouldn’t do, he needs a cleanse and dressing, maybe even stitches. So when you pressed the cleansing alcohol against his back, he hissed.

“Do you know what I do, Nurse Y/N?” You stood behind him, and from the mirror, he watches your eyes glint from the artificial lights that hung from the low ceiling. “No, I do not.” Baekhyun sucks in a breath, his back bends and you stop your ministrations, only for him to turn around, the bruise around his eye more obvious under the shadows.

“Would you hate me, if I told you?” Baekhyun pulls his bottom lip into the cave of his mouth, and your eyes follow the nervous habit. Slowly, you shake your head. “The mafia.” Your eyes widen, rubbing alcohol spilling to the ground. You assumed he had a knack for getting himself into bar fights, not this. “More specifically, I run the mafia.”

Every nerve in your body shook with sudden fear, and though you weren’t the battered and bruisen one in the room, it sure felt like it. “If anyone finds out, they’ll kill me.” He whispers, eyes piercing your own in the softest way. “But if I have to die by anyone’s hands,” Baekhyun reaches to hold your hand, “I’d rather they be the ones that took care of me once upon a time.”

Jongdae (Chen)

An ancient vase spins, shatters and spills to the ground. You stare, breath stuck in your throat, lungs suddenly fighting for oxygen. Wordlessly, the man next to you grabs your hand and runs as if his life depended on it. Your mind was spinning with too many questions, asking him who he was was one of them but it all became lost in the chaos of the situation.

All you wanted was a calm tour of the new city, never had you guessed that something like this could occur. And out of all the places, why were people shooting bullets in a fucking museum? You turn a corner, hands and feet buzzing with adrenaline.

When you finally came to a standstill, he presses you against a wall that was hidden behind enormous statues. You had gathered enough breath to break out a steady sentence, “A-are you the police? And who are these people? And what do-“ Jongdae presses his hand against your mouth, his other hand coming up to press a finger against his lips.

Footsteps increase with volume at each step, a storm of them following each other. It would only took a few more steps until they entered the same space as you. You screw your eyes shut, holding your breath in hopes that they would just leave you alone. Jongdae peers down, guilt mixing in his gaze.

Somehow, in the midst of this situation, your arms wrapped themselves around his torso where he stood in front of you like a shield. You wondered who this man really was, if he was the police, why wasn’t he in uniform? And out of all these people, why is he protecting you?When the footsteps faded, you finally opened your eyes, blurry sight meeting his soft gaze.

“You okay?” You nod, he steps back, tucking his gun into his coat. “I’m not the police. Those people chasing us were.” Us? Suddenly, your mind spins again, “W-what do you mean?” He looks away, “I’m wanted, as most high profile criminals are. I wasn’t here to steal anything, unless, your heart is up for sale?”

Chanyeol

He pulls his hood up, and sits on a high bar stool, waiting to be served. And had he not lifted his hand to usher a waiter, you would’ve assumed he was just another dark shadow. Chanyeol waves his hand, once again, hoping you would come around to serve him a drink.

But six shots later, he realised that perhaps he needed to find a different way to catch your attention. You were on duty, set to serve a specific group of men. They called you eye candy, drunken murmurs were passed about your body and you held it all in. It would be obvious to say you hated your job, but it provided you with your bread and butter, nothing could be done.

A hand, seemingly out of no where, presses itself against your back. “Be a good girl and bend over for me.” A rusty voice groans, his alcohol induced breath slimming the back of your neck while he leans closer, other hand digging into your waist. You let out a small yelp, as if static electricity burned your skin.

Vodka shots spill to the ground, small glasses cracking into even smaller fragments of glass. Not even a minute later, that same hand pulls at your hair, gripping like a vice. “Stupid bitch, who’s gonna pay for that now?” The heat was building, tears lined your blurry vision and you tried shaking out of his grip.

A crash, the sound of a gun being loaded, and two punctuating bullets caused the whole bar to fall into a depth of silence. The hand gripping your hair loosens, and something thuds to the ground. You rub the ball of your palms into your eyes, your clear vision coming into focus of a man lying still on the floor. Red painted the floor around him, and you mind suddenly felt weighted with fear.

Chanyeol’s hood falls as he shoves his gun back into his pocket, eyes raging with a fury no one had ever seen before. People around him gasped, as if they recognised him, who is he? But taking one glance at your shivering body, his anger melted. He steps towards you, holding out his hand softly, “I promise, as long as I’m here with you, no one will ever touch you again.”

Kyungsoo (D.O)

Kyungsoo closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then, he runs his hands through this gelled hair, and takes off his blazer. “Should I leave the tie on? No, it’s too expensive, she’ll notice.” He glances into his rear view mirror while mumbling to himself, where his driver sat equally confused, blinking back as if his boss had gone crazy.

Kyungsoo gives him a droopy smile, he didn’t want you to know who he really was, how could he explain his reality to you? But realisation strikes and an idea flashes like a light bulb over his head. The driver gulps, and Kyungsoo nods apologetically. Kyungsoo steps out of his car, adjusting to his drivers suit. “I should really give them better uniforms.”

The car drives off, and Kyungsoo walks into the cafe where he begins his act of being a normal accountant. You stood behind the till, taking people’s payments and waving them off with a smile that felt sweeter than any hot chocolate he’d tasted. You notice him, and send a short smile, causing the apples of Kyungsoo’s cheeks to rise.

‘How should I ask her out?’ He thinks to himself, taking slow steps towards you. But as he came nearer, he began noticing the scratches on your arm, the fading bruise near your eye. Concern fogged his thoughts, and just as he was about to ask you, you step back with wide eyes. Someone storms into the cafe, pushing past Kyungsoo.

“Y/N? Why the fuck would you report me to the police? I’m your boyfriend for crying out loud! Couples fight like this all the time.” Kyungsoo’s breathing halts, your boyfriend did this to you? Rage floods his mind, he holds it in for just a second, but seeing your eyes filled with such fear hurts him. Kyungsoo taps your boyfriends shoulder, who turns around yelling “The fuck do you want?”

But after Kyungsoo presses a gun against his forehead, he freezes on the spot. “Go near her again, and I’ll shoot ten bullets into your head.” Quicker than lighting, he runs, leaving the cafe in a stunned silence. Kyungsoo glances towards you, your face morphed in shock and horror, “I can treat you better.” He whispers.

Jongin (Kai)

“I can’t believe you did this, Y/N. This is amazing, I’m shocked!” You boss gives you a heavy pat on the back, and you straighten your posture with pride, a smug smile pulling at your lips. “I’m only completing my duties, Officer.” You speak, keeping your voice at a steady volume, though the tiny voice in your head was squealing with absolute excitement.

Your boss turns on his heels, and you give him a salute just as he exits the jail. You did it! You finally caught your fist criminal! Excitement overtook your emotions, you couldn’t help yourself, and before you even knew it, you were standing on desk, dancing thoughtlessly with a stupid smile on your face.

“You know, you should really learn how to lock a jail better.” A voice stops your party, you cast your eyes down, your first catch of the year stood free with keys dangling from his hands, “and some dancing lessons too. Please.” With your own voice now stuck in your throat, you try speaking a coherent sentence, but your mind is in a frenzy. How the fuck did he get out?

“Kai.” You mumble, reaching for the drawer in your desk to pull out your gun. “Call me Jongin, darling.” You roll your eyes as an automatic reaction to the unasked for name, and a teasing smile caused the apples of his cheeks to rise. You pull the drawer open, only to find it empty. “Looking for this?”

Jongin waves the gun teasingly before your eyes, a small giggle falling from his mouth. You stare wide eyed, fear struck but even a little impressed. “How did you-“ He walks closer, causing your spine to flatten itself against the wall behind you to create as much distance as possible. The only barrier between you and your criminal was your desk, but that didn’t stop him.

He sits on the table, legs dangling over the edge so that he was face to face with you. “Did you really think you could catch someone like me? Do you even know who I am?” Smuggler, drug dealer, mafia member, yes you knew. “But shouldn’t you be the one in jail? You did steal, after all.” You blink, what is he talking about? Reading your confusion, Jongin smiles, “You stole my heart.”

Sehun

Rain patters heavily outside. The bell rings, you stop flickering through your bookings for the next day and glance up to catch the figure that slid through your glass doors. He was tall, you noticed, his stark black attire a dark contrast to the bright flowers of your store. “Welcome to Seoul Scents, how may I help you?”

His stern eyes moved from the roses to meet your own, softening after a couple of blinks. And you realised that you had seen this man before, a number of times in fact. His hand ticks into his pocket, pulling out the gun he kept in there. You follow the movement with your eyes, your body frozen, was he really going to rob a flower store?

Making no comment, Sehun walks towards you, “I’d like to purchase some roses.” He states, more softly than you had anticipated. Purchase? Your response is lost in the air, eyes blinking rapidly to force the tears away. This had been the first time you heard his voice, and the curtness sent a slight shiver down your spine.

“O-of course, do you have any specific kind in m-mind?” Sehun shakes his head, raindrops tricking from his black locks, “Whatever is most beautiful.” You nod, trying to act calm. Your phone was in the other room, you’d have to pretend to be normal if you wanted to survive. “Is there a special occasion?” Sehun scans your face, your eyebags seemed darker than the last time he saw you.

“Not really, I just want to let her know she’s working really hard and deserves some rest.” For a moment you wondered how someone with such a cold exterior could have such warm thoughts. After noticing a bouquet of white iceberg roses, he points to it and says “I’ll take them,” You nod quickly, “all of them.”

Your nodding slows in disbelief, “R-really?” With a smile, he tucks the gun away, having enough of your funny stunned reaction to it, “Of course. And make sure you deliver them to Y/N’s house.” He drops a bundle of notes onto the table. Before you could even stutter another word, he turns on his heels and you watched as he faded into the stream of rain humming outside.

A/N: Sorry I wrote this after Valentine’s Day! But I hope you liked reading it, thank you for requesting, angel. Have a lovely day my honey bunnies! ❤️

[galxcs]

Drunken Nights | Wolfstar

Link to AO3 

Chapter Seven (Six) (Five) (Four) (Three) (Two) (One)

Remus couldn’t stop thinking about Sirius. He was starting to feel bad about how many times he had asked Amanda to repeat herself. Finally, he stopped her with an apologetic look in his eye.

“I’m so sorry, but I’m really worried about Sirius. Would you mind if I go checked on him?”

“Of course not! Go make sure he’s okay.”

“Thanks,” Remus said, turning away from Amanda.

He was glad that she hadn’t minded and made his way swiftly over to the bar. Sirius was right where James said he was, and Remus was grateful that he hadn’t moved. More so, he was grateful that he hadn’t done anything stupid yet.

Sirius had a blank expression on his face and was nursing a bottle in his hands. Remus wanted to get him back to the dorm because he didn’t want him to do anything he would regret, but he was nervous to get him moving.

Remus sat down on a stool and gently put his hand on Sirius’ shoulder. “Sirius?”

Sirius didn’t seem to register that his name had been said, so Remus shook his shoulder gently. Sirius just kept staring at some spot on the floor, his eyes completely blank. Remus stood up and crouched down in front of him, putting his hands on Sirius’ knees to steady himself, and forcing his body into Sirius’ line of sight. He watched Sirius’ eyes slowly move from the ground to Remus’ face.

“Moony?” he asked dully.

“Hey.”

“I was just thinking about you,” Sirius mumbled, barely audible over the loud music.

“Really? What about?” Remus asked, trying to keep him distracted.

The one other time that Sirius had looked like this had been one of the worst nights that the Marauders had to endure, and Remus would do anything to avoid that. It happened during fifth year. Remus had been recovering from the full moon in the hospital wing, so he had to hear the first part of the story from Peter and James.

It had been a really bad night for Sirius. His parents had pulled him out of school for the weekend, claiming he had to attend some great-aunt’s funeral or something. When he got back, he had burns from a wand down his arm and his long hair had been magically cut so unevenly that there were pieces sticking up in strange ways, and part of his scalp was red and sore.

Since Remus hadn’t been there for the beginning, James had filled him in, saying that Sirius was a mess the second he entered the dorm. It had been hard to listen as James described a Sirius that had an emotionless face, yet he was also shaking and angry.

They could tell that he was drunk, and James tried to calm him down, but they said he started throwing things around the room. James was pretty athletic, and Peter was a little hefty for his age, but Sirius’ build was much larger and occasionally intimidating, so the two boys didn’t know what to do.

Remus came in just as Sirius threw a glass vase against the wall. Somehow, Remus had managed to calm Sirius down, and only after Sirius punched the wall so hard that he had to wear a brace for a month.

When Remus looked back, he realized it hadn’t been so much calming him down as it was just shifting his anger into panic, which wasn’t much better.

He could still remember Sirius shaking in his arms, his skin a papery white color. Eventually, James and Peter left when Sirius started yelling for everyone to get out, but Sirius hadn’t let Remus leave.

At first, they sat in the dorm floor while Remus ran his fingers through Sirius’ uneven hair, trimming and cutting the edges with a pair of school scissors so that it looked like a normal hair cut. Remus didn’t like to admit that his fingers had trembled a little as he worked.

Then, Remus talked to him all night, but not about what had happened with his parents. Sirius hadn’t been ready to talk about it that night, but he stayed awake while Remus told him about how when he was little he was skipping rocks on the creek by the farm without telling his parents and ended up falling in. When Remus finished the story, Sirius asked him to tell another, and after that one, he asked for another and another until Remus’ tongue felt heavy, and his eyes were drooping closed.

They had been sitting in the floor, leaning against the bed and at some point while he was speaking, Sirius had fallen asleep. Remus hadn’t had the energy to get up and move, so he fell asleep also, his head falling onto Sirius’ shoulder.

The next morning Remus could recall waking up sore everywhere. His neck was bent awkwardly against Sirius’ shoulder, and he could feel Sirius’ head on top of his. His back hurt from where it was resting against the bed, and his butt was sore from sitting on the floor all night.

He couldn’t even remember how he had managed to pull away from Sirius without waking him, but when he did, he had discovered that Peter and James had come back at some point and were both sleeping soundly.

Remus cleaned the room quickly, sweeping away the shattered glass from the night before. He put the things that had been thrown around the room back where they belonged and left quietly to get some bandages from the hospital wing.

He knew where they were from so many nights spent there. Luckily, Madame Pomfrey was sleeping, and there were no students around, so it was easy for him to grab them.

He did everything before the others woke up, and when they did, Remus bandaged Sirius’ hand, asking him to get it checked when he wasn’t hungover anymore.

Later, by the lake, Sirius told Remus about that weekend. He told him about how his parents had wanted him to get the Dark Mark and burned down his arm until he would agree. He told him about how they had ripped down all the posters in his room, and taken all of the possessions that made him who he was. He told him about how he didn’t give in, not even when they cut his hair from his head, telling him that what they were doing was for his own good.

Remus could see that whole night so clearly in Sirius’ face as he crouched on the floor, music blaring in his ears, and a broken boy in front of his eyes. Drawing out of the memory, he looked down at Sirius’ hands, picturing them bloody from where he had punched the wall.

Sirius hadn’t responded to Remus’ question, so he asked again, trying to draw him out of his stupor. “What were you thinking about me?”

Remus slowly took hold of the bottle in Sirius’ hands, setting it idly on the ground.

“I was thinking about your hands,” Sirius mumbled.

“Oh?” Remus said, paying more attention to the way Sirius’ hands were starting to shake than what he was saying.

“You’ve got nice hands Moony.”

The words were enough to stop Remus for a second, but after seeing the same empty look in Sirius when he glanced up, he continued working with him slowly.

“Nice hair too. You’ve got really great hair.”

“Thanks Pads. You too,” Remus said, standing up slowly.

Thankfully Sirius’ gaze followed Remus, and it didn’t turn angry like Remus was waiting for.

“Member ‘en you cut my hair that un time, Moony,” Sirius slurred.

“I remember,” Remus said, taking Sirius’ hands and tugging him up a little.

Remus held his gaze, and was counting on Sirius holding his back, hoping nothing would set him off. Sirius stood up with Remus, staring at him like he was the only person in the room full of hundreds of students partying.

“That was nice,” Sirius muttered. Remus took a couple steps, walking backward. “Where are we going?”

“I’m going to take you back to the dorms. Is that okay? You’re very drunk,” Remus explained.

Sirius chuckled, a dark humorless laugh that left Remus feeling chilled to the bones. “Sorry, Moons. I know ow much you wan me to stop getting drunk.”

“It’s okay, Pads,” Remus whispered, guiding Sirius around the room, staying near the outside walls. “You’ll regret it in the morning.”

“Always regret it.” Sirius’ grip on Remus’ hands tightened, and he leaned forward. “I think I’m gonna puke,” he said.

Remus pulled out his wand, and caught sight of a plastic cup sitting on the floor. He quickly muttered a spell that made the cup grow large, and he passed the cup to Sirius, guiding him to the ground so he could kneel.

When Sirius was done throwing up, Remus muttered a cleaning spell and lifted Sirius back up again. He got Sirius a bottle of pumpkin juice from a cooler near them and made Sirius drink it to get the bad taste out of his mouth and hopefully sober him up a bit.

They made it all the way to the hallway leading out of the party without anymore incidents. Remus was about to cast lumos so they could see where they were going, but he caught sight of Amanda on their way out, dancing among a big group of people.

He felt bad leaving without telling her, especially because she had thought he was just checking on Sirius quickly. Remus looked back at Sirius. He didn’t look like he was as much at risk of flipping out anymore, and Remus would go fast.

There was a couch sitting by the entrance, so Remus guided Sirius there.

“Sirius, I’ll be right back. Please don’t go anywhere okay? This will only take a second.”

“Okay,” Sirius mumbled.

“Okay, don’t go anywhere,” Remus repeated, turning around.

He went as quickly to Amanda as he could, checking behind him a few times to make sure Sirius was still there. Amanda met him with a bright smile.

“Hi, I just wanted to tell you,” Remus had to should over the music, “Sirius is really sick, so I’m going to take him back to the dorm!”

“Oh, bummer! I hope he feels better, and at his own party too!” Amanda sympathized.

“I’ll see you around?” Remus said.

“Yeah! Thanks for dancing with me; I had a lot of fun!”

“Me too!” Remus turned back toward the couch and startled at seeing Sirius standing up and marching towards them. “Uh, gotta go. Bye!” Remus said, not waiting for an answer before he was rushing back through the crowd.

He caught Sirius right in the middle of a group of students dancing and had to grab onto his shoulders to stop him. Even then, he had to put most of his weight into holding him back.

“What’s so special about her anyways?” Sirius said, his voice sounding warped, maybe from being drunk, or maybe it was the music. Probably, it was both.

Remus didn’t exactly understand what Sirius was asking, but he saw the look in his eye and being among so many people was making him nervous. Sirius was stronger than Remus, and he could feel that he was about to push past him angrily.

“Come on, let’s go back to the dorm!” Remus shouted, trying to push Sirius back.

Sirius didn’t budge, and both of his hands were clenched up into fists. He was staring off into the crowd behind Remus, and looked as though he was angry at something past him.

Remus couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he grabbed at the hair on the back of Sirius’ head, tugging his head down so that Sirius was looking at him. He didn’t let go. Remus saw Sirius’ eyes move back to the crowd, so he wrapped his other hand around him, forcing him to meet his eyes.

“Sirius,” he said pleadingly. “Let’s go.”

Sirius stared at Remus for a long time, his eyes softening as he did. He nodded once and then twice, so Remus let go and pulled Sirius away from the crowd.

It wasn’t until they made it outside that Remus remembered he had seen Sirius give the map back to James when the party started, so he peered around the corners of the halls every time they needed to turn.

Things were going smoothly until he heard the sound of footsteps and noticed that two professors were coming right their way. He didn’t know what he would say when they asked why they were out so late, and they would definitely notice that Sirius was drunk out of his mind.

Remus turned around quickly, opening a random door, and shoving Sirius inside.

“Shhh,” Remus whispered, his hand tight around Sirius’ arm.

The room that Remus had chosen to hide in turned out to not be a room at all. It was a closet at best, and left little room to move around in.

Remus suddenly felt awkward pressed so close to Sirius, and he let his hand drop away from his arm. Remus could feel Sirius’ eyes on him, and he forced himself not to look up, staying as still as possible.

“You smell good,” Sirius whispered. “Like chocolate.”

Remus could feel Sirius’ breath on his forehead, and it was making it hard for him to stand up straight. He felt like his heart was going to leap out of his chest and hoped that Sirius couldn’t feel it beating against his.

He tried to subtly take a step back, hitting the wall of the closet lightly with his back, but Sirius stepped forward with him. Remus suddenly felt trapped.

“Sirius?” Remus whispered, finally letting himself look up at him.

It was hard to see anything in the dark closet, but the light from the crack in the door was hitting Sirius’ face just right so that Remus could see that he was giving him the most intense stare that Remus had ever received. He watched Sirius trail his eyes in a painstakingly slow manner down his face, landing on his lips. Remus stood frozen in his gaze, feeling his breath grow uneven.

He tried to gain a bit of control over the situation, turning his head slightly towards the door. “It sounds like their gone,” he whispered, his voice hitching when he felt Sirius’ nose brush against his forehead.

Remus felt dizzy with questions about what was happening, and he wondered why he hadn’t pushed Sirius away yet. Sirius was drunk and not thinking straight at all. Remus imagined that since Sirius never ended up doing anything with the girl that he had been dancing with earlier, this was his drunken mind trying to supplement for that.

“We could probably leave—” Remus felt Sirius trail his nose down from where it had been resting on his forehead to his cheek, “—now.”

Sirius pulled away just slightly, his hand brushing back one of Remus’ curls that had fallen into his face. When Sirius was done, he let his hand drop down to Remus’ chin and tipped his head back just slightly so that they were nose to nose. Remus felt himself holding his breath right before Sirius leaned in and brushed his lips against Remus’.

Sirius’ lips were soft and tasted like alcohol; a reminder that this was stupid and meant nothing to Sirius. Remus couldn’t help but lean into them, catching himself wondering if he could kiss away the taste of alcohol on Sirius’ lips. He shook his head, trying to get his mind in order, but Sirius’ hand on his chin tightened, keeping Remus still.

Then suddenly Sirius was parting Remus’ lips with his own, and his hands were on his hips, pushing him back against the wall, and he was kissing him like someone who was born to kiss. Remus allowed himself only a moment to kiss Sirius back, and it was a moment that he imagined he would never forget for the rest of his life.

He felt Sirius’ hand move from his hip to the back of his head as he angled the kiss better, and Sirius’ tongue licked lightly along his bottom lip.

“Remus,” Sirius whispered into his mouth, pressing himself closer to him so that his entire body was lined up with Remus’.

It was near impossible for Remus to pull back, especially with the sound of Sirius longingly whispering his name echoing around in his ears, but the moment that he had allowed himself had passed. He pulled away, already wishing he could relive the short moment.

At first, Sirius didn’t seem to understand what was happening, and he chased after Remus’ mouth, kissing down his jaw.

“Sirius stop; you’re drunk,” he said shakily, pushing Sirius back a bit.

“But, I—” Sirius started, his hand dropping to Remus’ arm.

“Come on,” Remus whispered, shaking Sirius off.

“Remus, I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me,” Sirius breathed out.  

And there it was. The cold hard proof that this was the one time that Sirius Black was ever going to kiss Remus Lupin. It hurt more now, after he had been kissed by him, than it did before. At least then, Remus had been able to ignore his feelings, shoving them aside so that he didn’t have to deal with them. But now…now Remus knew how good it felt being with Sirius, and he didn’t want to give it up.

“It’s fine. You’re not thinking straight,” Remus mumbled, opening the closet door slowly and glancing around the hallway.

The trip back to the room was silent and quick. Sirius seemed to have sobered up a bit, except that he kept stumbling and running into walls.

When they got back, Sirius fell onto the floor, so Remus grabbed his arm and pulled him up. He tried to ignore the fact that they had been kissing just a little bit ago. He grabbed Sirius a random shirt to sleep in because it seemed that Sirius had lost the ability to walk.

“Put this on,” he mumbled.

One glance at Sirius told Remus that he had probably already forgotten about the kiss. He was watching the rain pour against the dark window absentmindedly.

“Sirius, put this on.”

Remus looked away while Sirius changed and when he was finished, he pulled him onto his bed, turning around quickly so that he didn’t have to look at Sirius any longer. He didn’t want Sirius to see how much he was blushing, or how nervous he seemed. Remus tried to remind himself that in the morning Sirius wouldn’t remember any of this.

“Stay with me,” Sirius said from where he was laying.

“I’m not going to bed yet,” Remus responded.

“Then read in my bed.”

Remus sighed, hating that Sirius knew him so well. He hesitated for a long time.

“Moony?” Sirius sounded so nervous about Remus’ answer that he couldn’t himself.

Remus grabbed a book off his shelf, hopped up onto the bed, and rested against the headboard. He told himself that he would leave once Sirius fell asleep, but when he did, Sirius looked so peaceful. Remus was feeling so many crazy emotions that he knew he would never be able to sleep if he wasn’t with him. With Sirius, who was so familiar and warm.

Remus let himself comb his fingers through Sirius’ hair for a second. “What am I going to do about you?” he whispered to himself.

Remus got off the bed as quietly as he could and changed into his pajamas, which like usual, were just his boxers and an oversized t-shirt. He climbed back into bed and flicked the lamp off.

Remus tried laying on his back, his eyes staring up into the dark, but his feet were cold, and he couldn’t keep his eyes closed. He finally slid over a bit, tucking himself against Sirius’ chest like he had so many times as a kid.

He felt Sirius turn into him to accommodate the new weight in his sleep, and there was somewhere deep in Remus’ head that told him it wasn’t fair to Sirius to keep laying with him like this when he knew now how deep his feelings ran for him. Remus tried to ignore it.

With the quiet thought that in the morning Sirius wouldn’t remember anything, and everything would go back to normal, Remus closed his eyes. Only a second passed before sleep came crashing down on him, and he slipped away to whatever place that Sirius was.