#i am what the kids these days call.... *snaps fingers* ..bothered.

[noceurous]

get you back

summary: You hated that you loved Bucky Barnes, and he loved that you could not hate him.

warnings: mention of alcohol consumption, semi-drunkenness, carsex (18+), fingering, oral, swearing, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it), fuckbuddy!bucky, dbf!bucky, implied age gap, mention of bad boyfriends (not bucky), using nicknames (princess, bunny) , slight degradation - nothing physical, some mention of food

minors dni

a/n: yes I AM BACK. please leave some comments/reblogs. thanks!!

A loud snap of fingers made you turn your head to him. “Are you even listening to me?” You sighed, pressing fingers on your temples to look like you were trying to remember.

No, you weren’t listening. You were thinking how that hot guy was about to give you his number, before James Buchanan Barnes a.k.a the actual devil, snatched you away. Leading you to his car without giving you a chance to say goodbye to the best body you have ever seen.

You. Hated. James. Bucky. Barnes.

“Something about… bunnies?” You shrugged as you turned your head back towards the road. Even though it was almost pitch black, you fought your urge to look at his profile under car’s lights. Even though he was angry and sleepless he looked better than all the guys you’ve ever known.

“Really? You are not even trying kid.” He said as he emphasized on the last word. He knew how much you hated the nickname.

“Stop calling me a kid. I’m not that young.”

“I will stop calling you a kid, when you stop acting like one. What were you thinking? What was the point of all that drinking? Get my attention or liver failure?”

The point was to get over your ex boyfriend finding someone before you did. You didn’t want to be the one who was stuck in an ended relationship.

You weren’t even prepared to the idea that he would start dating in a few months. His post just popped on your phone while you were scrolling through pictures on Instagram. Selfie with her, cheek to cheek and smiling like a true dumbass he is.

Getting ass drunk would be a nice way to forget. But you shouldn’t been too drunk to start texting and calling other people.

Especially calling the guy you hated the most. Because he would show up just in time, and yank you away from the guy you were flirting with.

You really shouldn’t have drunk texted your on-again-off-again hookup. Neighbour of your parents, a close friend of your dad.

It started just a few days after your heartbreak. You weren’t sure of how it started, but you remembered how it ended. In his bed, literally begging him for letting you cum as he pounded into you like an animal.

When you weren’t fucking, all you did was argue. Arguments about when to meet up or where to meet up… You hated meeting up in his place, so close to your parents. And he hated meeting only for an hour max.

You started fighting and decided to not meet up again. Either of you got tired of all the lies and secrets. It was you more than it was him. Bucky was always sure you would come back to him one way or another.

“Remind me not to call you again.” You huffed, resting your head on the window. Sun was about to shine in a few hours and all you wanted was to get into your bed. All you needed was forget the day and move on.

“Sure your parents would be thrilled to know their daughter would end up in jail for DUI.” You turned your neck so fast that it hurt.

“I wasn’t going to drive the car!”

“You getting into car of a drunk idiot is stupid enough too!”

“Stop acting like you are my dad! He was fucking hot, and he told me his place was really close.”

“What made you believe in him? I know what that kind of guy thinks. It is only getting you to the bed. You would be considered lucky if he bothered to call you the next day.”

“So? What made you think I am not okay with it?” You saw all the blood rushing to his cheeks, decorating them with a soft pink hue.

“Okay...” He said trying to not go any further with that discussion.

You dropped your shoulders, when you saw how his grasp on wheel tightened and his jaw clenched. If you didn’t know him that well, you would say he was offended.

Whether it was because of anger towards him or how tired you were. You didn’t say anything back but leant your seat back to at least sleep for the rest of the ride.

“Oh no princess, you are definitely not sleeping.” He said just before he slapped your thigh. Small ‘Hey!’ fell from your lips. It was fair to expect him to snap and say you crossed a line.

You yanked your leg away from his grasp. He shut you up before you could say anything back. “You made me get all this way three in the morning. Ofcourse there would be consequences.”

“I didn’t ask you to come.” You said as you rubbed your thigh.

“You sent me a picture of you lifting your skirt and texted all those things you want to do with me. But when I come to pick you up, I saw you on the lap of some dickhead.”

“I was horny. We’ve decided to stop with fooling around. Life moves on James.” As you finished the sentence, his foot stepped on the pedal so quick that he had to use his arm to stop you from falling forward.

“Get in the back of the car.”

“James, I’m tired.”

“Get in the back, or I will make you bunny.” You didn’t said anything back. Bucky never called you bunny, if he didn’t have something on his mind. You knew better than to take the risk of getting him angrier.

You rolled your eyes before unfastening your seatbelt. He caught the sight of your underwear as you bent over to move through the gap between the seats. Even though Bucky saw your pink thong, you acted like you had the upper hand.

“Take off your skirt.” He said before coming next to you. He almost yanked off the door before squishing you on the backseat.

He pulled you by your legs, making you lie down. The cold leather of the seats caused goosebumps on your skin. That and you knew what he was capable of when he was angry.

And he was pissed.

“Not so tired ha, bunny?” His large hands wandered along your legs, moving slowly towards your hips.

A loud noise of your gulp echoed in your brain. You could get used to that view. You legs hooked to his shoulders. His charming face inches over your lucky thong.

“Tell me again bunny.” He said as his eyes locked on your figure under his, trying not to smirk at the wet patch on your thong.

“Tell you what?” You asked. Blinking at him with nothing else on your mind.

“Tell me again the last thing you told me before breaking up with me. So I would not have my way with you.”

“Uhm...” He started kissing on the top of your thighs. Index finger was tracing your slit over the thong.

“We can’t keep doing this and not expect one of us getting hurt. Ah-“ He bit inside of your thigh, sucking a gentle bruise. “James.”

He didn’t listen to you. If he ever did that was not it definitely.

“I’m listening. Continue.” Kisses, soft bites started decorating your body.

His hands placed next to your waist. His teeth brushed along the band of your thong. You wanted to raise your hips. But the way he looked up at you, the darkness in his eyes, made you stop.

You licked your lips, closing your eyes to concentrate. “We continue lying to our close ones and soon enough the lies would get out of—“ You stopped as he curled his finger like a hook to pull down your thong.

He mumbled something that you were sure was Russian as he got close to your heat. His eyes looked into your eyes. You knew he was daring you to stop.

If you stop I’ll stop too bunny.

He didn’t need to speak for you to understand.

“—hands. Lies get out of our hands. It is too risky and it does not worth it. We both know that this affair does not take LONG!”

He licked a stripe over your slit. As his cold fingers separated your folds. He loved to torture you like this.

“I don’t want any of us to get hurt.” You manage to finish your speech as you felt the familiar tingles build up.

The tip of his tongue flicked your clit and you had to hold on to something, his hair, to stop your thighs to close around his head.

“See this is where you are wrong, bunny. There isn’t any chance where you can hurt me...” He said as his fingers collected some of your juices, raising them to his lips. “Unless you try to neglect me of your sweet nectar.” He sucked his fingers clean, you heard a tiny ‘hmm’ as his fingers touched his tongue.

He raised his head to look at you when he was circling around your weeping hole. “Answer this, do you want to hurt me bunny?” He wanted to make you weep as much as your pussy.

“N-no. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Then why you try to break things off?” The tip of his finger slowly pushed into your whole. He pulled it back before you could enjoy this. “Are you going to try and break things off again?” Another question he didn’t need to hear its answer to. He could read it from your tearful eyes and slight pout. “Oh bunny.” He whispered to himself, pride filling his chest.

His finger went back to circling around your hole as he used another one to toy with your clit. You could not stop yourself from curling your toes and try to pull him closer.

That arrogonat smirk on his face made a comeback. “Are you going to flirt with other guys who I’m sure does not even know what a clit is?” You shook head your again and he pressed his thumb.

“Fuck.” You said as you squirmed under his touch.

“Not the answer I am looking for. Do you want to try again bunny?”

“I—I’m not going to flirt with other guy a—and ohgod!” He pushed one inch of his finger inside curling the tip so it would reach your spot. You didn’t stop so he wouldn’t either. “I’m not going break things o—off.”

One more inch and you knew you would start to drip onto seats. Before you knew it, his mouth got back onto your clit. “James!” You said again as you pulled onto his locks.

“Shit! It’s only been a week but your pussy is crying out f’ me.” He said as he stood back up.

Your legs started shaking by the time. You whimpered at the lost contact of his fingers and lips. You also missed seeing him with your thighs wrapped around his head.

You knew if you touched yourself he would bite your fingers and deny you any sort of release. He quickly unfastened his belt and lowered his pants and boxers just low enough to take out his cock.

The tip was swollen red it was starting to leak some precum as he pressed it on your clit. “You are an attention whore bunny. It’s been only a week and I find you cosy with another guy. This deserves punishment don’t you think?”

“Please! I’ve been just trying to get your attention.” He smiled at your confession as he aligned his tip.

“Tell me you are mine and mine only. If you tell me that, I’ll give you what you want.”

“I’m yours James. I’m only yours, I do not belong to anybody else.” He started slowly push into you.

He leaned over you to fix the hair got on your face. His lips brushed along yours when you moaned as he found the spot. Your legs started to got down but he held them back. Pushing your bent knee to your chest as he started moving.

His hips started rutting into you slowly. “So pretty like this bunny. All spread out for me.” His tongue darted out from his lips to giving you a longing kiss. All teeth and tongue, full of lust and desire.

His large hands pulled down your strapless top, letting your tits out. His tongue clicked on top of mouth. “And thinking I would be sharing them with some dickhead.” He pushed into you hardly, making you jump into his arms.

“I don’t share bunny. Never.” You knew he meant more with those words.

Air inside the car was getting thick because of your panting. His fingers started playing with your nipples to get them erect as he held your tits together and started licking and sucking both of them.

“Not the teeth ah!” You tried to protest but he had already sunk his teeth into your extra-sensitive flesh. Sweet melody of your cries caused him to increase speed. He wanted more.

You yelped as you tried to find something to hold onto, best thing you found was the back of his shoulder as you pressed your nails against his skin. Bruises and scratches would be greeting both of you as first thing in the morning but it didn’t bother you as long as it came with pleasure.

“FuckFuckFuck!” Familiar coil started to form under your belly button, and you threw your head back. “James, please please…”

“Wanna cum bunny? Is that it? Mumblin’ because you are too close?” He said after detaching from your nipples with a pop. The little numb was all swollen and covered in saliva.

“Y-yes oh.” He slammed his hips onto yours with more force and stayed pressed into you. “Cum for me bunny. Cream all over my cock, fuck, you filthy girl, so eager for a release.” He said as he stopped your wriggling hips against is. “Humpin’ me like a cute lil’ bunny.”

Your hips started moving involuntarily, chasing after your release. He helped you with continuing the pound into you. You were chanting his name unable to form more coherent words or sentences.

“That’s it bunny. Cum for me come on! I’ve got you.” Just after he was finished your release hit you like a wave, causing you to lose all the control of your mind and body.

But he didn’t stop, he increased his pace. Chasing his own release using your numb body. “‘So pretty like this bunny. Makes me want to keep you all to myself.”

“I’m all yours.” You whispered, truly meant it. As you became used to the swell on your chest each time you look at him.

You were really his.

“Yeah? Are you going to take my cum? Let me breed you? I’m sure you would love that don’t you bunny? All swollen with my cum, looking at me with those pretty eyes. Fuck!”

“Yes, yes yes give it to me please.”

“Fucking take it. You little cumslut.” You felt the wetness and warmth of his release shoot right inside of you.

He stood there with your legs wrapped around his waist. Looking at your tired and ruined figure. Taking the sight in just before he slowly pulled out.

“We—“ You tried to speak up, trying not to show him how much you missed his cock inside you already.

As he was putting his clothes back on you once were aware of this situation.

There was no We, you two were just fucking whenever one of you needed some release. No matter what you do to get his attention, all you would get was his dick pounding into you. It won’t be his heart.

Sound of glove compartment’s being closed made you raise on your elbows to look at him.

You saw him take out some tissues to wipe off his leaking cum. “Are you on the pill?” You shook your head, you knew how those were messing up with you. “I’m not ovulating, it’s fine.” He shook his head, “Still gotta get you some plan B. We shouldn’t be risking it.”

“Sure.” You tried to swallow the ache in your throat, and your pride.

You fixed your top and found your thong on the ground, raising it to put it on. Tension between the two of you was so thick that a saw could not even cut it.

He got back on his seat and started the engine. “The sun is about to rise, I can drive to a diner and got us some breakfast. There is a place I know makes your favourite. They are also good at making it.” He couldn’t hide his smile when he saw your smile at the mention of the food. He loved making you smile like that.

Sleep was the last thing on your mind, since he fucked your brains out. Since it had been more than 10 hours since you last ate something; growling sounds from your stomach was about to come. “Sounds good but I want to wear my skirt first.”

“Sure bunny.” He said as he tossed your skirt back to you.

And it was a second, just a second, that he felt like he could get used to it.

He could get used to having breakfast with you. He could get used to your face being the first thing he saw as he started his day. He could get used to having sex with only one person, someone really means something to him.

But when your phone buzzed, and he saw your dad’s name on the screen he got back into reality.

You sent it to voicemail, and leaned closer to him over the table. He saw the same smile again on your lips and the familiar spark on your eyes.

“So what do you say? Your place or mine?”

He smiled back at you, leaning over you. “Which one do you prefer, bunny?” He knew he could go on as long as you looked at him like that.

As long as you looked at him with love. Even if you were just realizing, he was already an addict for it.

#bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #dbf!bucky #dbf!bucky barnes smut #dbf!bucky barnes x reader #dbf!bucky barnes #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes x you #james bucky barnes x reader smut #bucky barnes series

[babyiamperfectforyou]

Not The Same As It Was

Summary : Harry feels like his life with his family has not been the same as it was. Would he leave his wife and child for the woman who has him craving for more?

Warnings : Angst

Word count: 5.9k

A/n: We're back with another oneshot 🥳This is our late entry to @harry-on-broadway 's fic challenge. Enjoy ❤️

Xoxo,

G and M

Masterlist

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"So, where are we going?" Harry asked as he climbed onto the passenger seat of the car.

"Calm down, Styles, we ain't gonna kill you", one of the people inside the car laughed, "It's high time you had some actual fun, family life has changed you", another said.

"Hey… that's not true ", he complained as they started driving but that comment had planted a seed of doubt inside his brain.

"Well then, tell me, it's been a month since you came back from tour; how many times have you hung out with us, huh?", Neil, his friend asked. Harry stayed silent. After coming back home, he had spent all his time with his family. And now, he was back in the studio to work on the new album. He had been holed up there all day.

"Yup, that's exactly what I'm talking about, so shut up and have some fun with us tonight, everyone's gonna be there. Just let the old Harry out for this once. You can go back to your boring self tomorrow."

—----------------------------------------------

"Why are you late?Where were you, Harry?"

His head snapped up as he looked at Y/N, his wife. He was sitting on the couch, drinking a glass of water.

"Out", he murmured, placing the glass on the table. "You could've called or texted me, or at least picked up when I called you", she was annoyed.

"Well, I forgot. What's the big deal?" He stood up, placing the glass onto the coffee table with a loud thud and tried to walk towards the bedroom.

"You forgot? We were worried, you know? Beryl went to sleep asking for you. Where were you, Harry? You reek of alcohol." She was getting angrier by the minute.

"What are you on about, Y/N? Can't I just have one night away from all the responsibilities? Can I just enjoy myself for once? Ugh. They were right, family life sure does drag you down", he chuckled meanly.

“What?” she mumbled in disbelief. She loved their little family; her, Harry and their little girl, Beryl. She was so happy to have the most adorable baby on the planet and the best husband. She loved her family with her whole heart and believed he did too, until those poisonous words slipped from his mouth just now. They had talked, even before they had kids, about how important it was for the mental and overall well being of children to have their parents with them. Harry had treated his family as his first priority, until now. Did he really think that? That his family was dragging him down? She could feel bile rising in her throat.

“What? You know I’m right”, he shrugged.

“Don’t say things you don’t mean Harry, you’re clearly drunk. And don’t bring Beryl into this, you knew what you were signing up for when we knew we were pregnant. And you seemed so happy then.” tears pooled in her eyes.

He sighed,

“You know how happy I am to have a family, I just meant that I deserve a break from all this burden, you know.”

“Yup, got your message loud and clear, Styles.”, she said, walking towards their bedroom.

“Shit, Y/N I didn't mean it like that. I just…”

“Save it, Harry. I'll make sure that you won't have to carry our burden.” she said and walked into their bedroom.

He seemed to realize the weight of his words fast enough as the alcohol slowly left his system. He entered the bedroom and saw her coming out of the shower in her pajamas, her eyes were red and puffy. She did not even bother to look at him as he sat on the edge of the bed, fingers fumbling nervously.

“Y/N, baby… just listen to me, I-”

She did not even spare a glance at him and left the room. His eyes started welling up with tears as he heard the sound of Beryl’s room slam shut. He sat against the headboard, as he realized what he had done. Why did he say those words to her, he loved his family dearly, right? Right?

—---------------------------------------------

Y/n could not sleep that night. Were they a burden to him? Was he just tolerating their presence? A mere repayment for having loved her once? She held her daughter tight as she let her tears flow down her face and wet the pillow. Somewhere in the middle of doubting herself and trying to remember if she ever had tied him down, she fell asleep.

—----------------------------------------------

Harry couldn't sleep as well. He was not used to sleeping without her. He knew he had said some hurtful things, but didn't know how to make it better. He woke up early and went for a run to clear his head. He'll just buy her something to make up for it. She was his wife, she wouldn't leave him, would she?

—------------------------------------------------

He had come after the time Y/N and Beryl had left for work and school. He was supposed to take Beryl to school but he purposely avoided coming home early. He knew it would be difficult for him to face Y/N after last night's incidents and he figured that she would take their kid to school. And he was right. Both of them had left.

He placed the necklace he bought for her on the table and wrapped it up, placing a little bow on top. A perfect apology gift. She would surely forgive him after seeing that he had bought her an expensive necklace, right? Well, that's what he thought.

He took the gift to their bedroom and set it down on her dressing table for her to find after she comes home from work and went down to the kitchen, only to see that she had made him breakfast before she left. Guilt tugged at his heart. It would have been so hard for her today, having to get Beryl ready for school, cooking for everyone and then getting to her own workplace, all on her own. He should have been there, helping her with the chores. Y/N was a fashion designer. She had a boutique that sold wedding dresses. Since she had to stay late at work than usual, she had told Harry when he came home from tour that they should hire a nanny for Beryl to stay till she comes home. But Harry was quick to discard that suggestion and said that he'd be there and there was no need to hire anyone.

Harry would apologize to her tonight, he'll pick up Beryl from school, take her to get ice cream. Then he'll come home and make Beryl dinner and get her to sleep by the time Y/N comes home. She had to stay late at work, as her sales were going crazy. Then, when Y/N comes home, he'll set up a nice bubble bath and let her relax. He'll set up a nice romantic dinner and apologize to her. He'll give her the gift he bought her and tell her how much he loves her. If she lets him, he'll show her how much she means to him.

Harry had it all planned. He quickly took a shower, had breakfast and drove over to the studio.

—----------------------------------

Harry had a productive day at work. He was able to get a lot of work done. He could feel the rush of ideas running through his mind.

During the lunch break, he had sent Y/N a text saying that he'll pick up Beryl from school in the evening. She responded in half an hour.

Y/N/N❤️: It's okay, Harry, I'll pick her up. I leave work early today.

—-------------------------------------

"Mate, are you coming or not? ", Jeremy asked impatiently.

"No, man, I've gotta get home early today, you guys go on without me", with that, he was off.

Harry had planned on getting home before Y/N but he didn't know when she would be home. Yes, she had informed him that she'd leave early, but he didn't know the exact time.

He saw her car as he drove into the driveway and realized that his plans had failed. The fresh aroma of food hit his nose as he opened the door and walked in. Y/N was cooking. Beryl was sat on the barstool near the kitchen counter, doing her homework and asking Y/N for help whenever she was met with difficult questions.

Taking off his shoes, Harry carefully walked over to them, a little nervous.

"Daddy, I missed you", Beryl pouted, seeing him. Y/N turned around at the mention of him and their eyes met for a millisecond before she turned away, an expression on her face he couldn't decipher. A wave of disquiet went through him, it was like being doused with ice cold water.

"I missed you too baby", he said, leaning down and placing kisses on her forehead, making her giggle.

"Where were you last night, daddy? I wanted to show you the picture I drew." She frowned.

"Daddy was late, kiddo." He said softly, looking over at Y/N who made no effort to turn around.

"You know what? You could show me the picture now." He said, making her smile.

"Okay daddy, can you put me down?" She asked, holding her arms out. Harry moved closer, picked her up and put her down. She ran off to her room in excitement. Harry walked over to where his wife was chopping tomatoes. He sat on the counter and gently called her name.

“Hey. Look at me.”, he said softly.

She hesitantly looked up.

"I am so sorry, love. I shouldn't have said that. I was drunk and not in my right mind. Will you forgive me?"

"I know, Harry. It's okay, I forgive you", she said in a small voice.

Well, that was easy, he thought. He didn't know why she didn't even put up a fight and stand up for herself because he was clearly in the wrong here.

"Really? I know I was a dick, baby, it won't happen again."

"It's fine, Harry. Don't worry about it" , she gave him a small smile. He knew she was still hurt by the way her smile did not reach her eyes. But he decided not to ask about that. She would be happy after getting that gift. He was about to tell her about it when they were interrupted by the pitter patter of two small feet. Beryl was running over to him with a picture in her hand.

—------------------------------------

After dinner, when Y/N took Beryl to her room to put her to bed, Harry took a quick shower. He did not see her in their room when he got out of the shower.

Was she going to sleep in Beryl's room?

Harry walked over to her room, only to see Beryl sleeping, clutching her reindeer plushie that Harry bought her when he came back from tour last month. It had become her favourite one. Harry smiled to himself and closed the door, walking downstairs, looking for his wife.

There she was, wiping down the kitchen counter and cleaning up. He gently slipped behind her, hugging her from behind and placing a kiss onto her cheek. He sensed her body suddenly stiffening but decided not to comment on it.

Swallowing down his hurt, he gently whispered in her ear,

"Come to bed, baby"

"I'll be there in a few minutes, Harry. You can go to bed if you want to, I'll finish this up and be there", she sounded nervous, he noticed.

"No, I don't want to sleep without you, besides, I have something to give you. I'll wait. "

He helped her clean and led her to their bedroom, handing her the neatly wrapped gift.

"What is it, Harry?" ,she asked .

She had never used a pet name after that encounter. He hated it when she used to call him by his name. She was still hurt, he realised.

"Um, it is a… peace offering. I'm so sorry for what I said, I didn't mean it. So I bought you a necklace as an apology. " He said, suddenly getting nervous.

Sighing, she said,

"You didn't have to, Harry."

"I know, but I wanted to."

"Thank you." She said, without even opening it.

"Can I kiss you? ", he asked apprehensively.

She nodded.

He leaned in, pressing his lips onto hers. It was soft and tender. He held onto her waist and pulled her closer. Both of them did not want to pull away. It was when his hands started wandering over her hips and waist that she pulled back. He looked at her with a small frown.

"I… uh… not today, Harry", she stuttered.

"Um… yeah, sure", he said.

When they went to sleep that night, he hugged her closer to him.

—--------------------------------------

It's been a week since that incident. They were getting back to normal but Harry couldn't help but notice a few changes in his wife's behaviour. She would do all the household chores without asking him for any help, she would cook, and clean, leaving Harry with nothing to do. On one hand, it was good because he could devote his time to the task at hand: the new album. But on the other hand, he found it weird that his usually feisty wife had turned into a housewife. She didn't complain about anything, balancing her housework and kid along with her equally demanding job. She took Beryl to school in the morning and picked her up in the evening.

Their schedules had changed as well. Y/N would wake up early, cook them breakfast and get herself and Beryl ready for work. Harry wouldn't even be awake till they're gone. After waking up, Harry would freshen up and go to the studio. In the evening, Y/N and Beryl would be back, she'd cook them dinner, feed Beryl and get her to bed. Harry would be home late. There were days where they wouldn't even see each other. Y/N had changed her schedule in such a way that she was able to leave in time to get Beryl from school. Harry and Y/N did not really get any alone time. They hadn't even really talked to each other in a week.

The next week seemed so hectic though. Y/N had been busier than ever with her sales going up. She couldn't leave early from work. So, Harry had to take Beryl to school and pick her up.

It was a Friday when they completed and recorded the first song for the new album.

"We'll go celebrate,'' he heard his friends say. He felt like it was only fair for him to go with them as he had been bailing on them for a little while.

Will you pick up Beryl from her dance class today? I don't think I can make it, Harry hastily typed up and sent the message to his wife and without even waiting for a reply, walked towards the car that was waiting for him outside the studio.

—---------------------------------------

They had gone to this new bar near the studio.

It felt liberating for him to be away from work or family for a little while. The drinks had loosened him up. He found the whole having - fun thing refreshing.

It's been a while since he has had some fun, not caring about anything, just living in the present. The alcohol seemed to make him forget about everything. He let himself free, dancing with random strangers and drinking as much as he wanted.

"Hey, Harry, I want you to meet someone," Neil called out over the loud music as Harry was downing another shot of tequila.

With him stood a brunette, tall and gorgeous. She had beautiful hazel eyes which reminded him of Belgian chocolate. She had curves in all the right places. She was wearing a silver bodycon dress which hugged her figure and left little to the imagination.

"Hi, I am Kara", she held her hand out.

"Kara?" He asked, his accent becoming thicker due to him being drunk.

"No, Kara, K-A-R-A" she said.

"That's what I said. I'm English, I have an accent, lord…", he laughed, making her giggle.

He shook her outstretched hand,

"I'm Harry."

"I know", she giggled again.

"So, Harry, this is Kara, my friend from uni, she's a choreographer. She is here for some work related thing, she'll be here for a few months."

"It's nice to meet you ", he said.

"Likewise," she replied with a smile.

They spent the rest of the night talking. Harry found that she had a really nice personality. They talked about many things and he noticed that she had strong opinions about everything, a bold woman, she was.

When it was time for her to leave, she said her goodbyes to everyone in their friend group. Finally, she walked over to Harry,

"It's been great finally meeting you. I've heard so much about you and now I know what they say is true, you're really a gentleman. I'm going to go now, see you around." She leaned in for a hug. He returned the hug, blushing at her praise. She smelled good, like wild berries.

"Bye, see you around", he smiled at her.

He felt that he had taken the right decision to go out, it proved to be a good relaxation technique. He needed to do this often.

It was past midnight when he came home. Beryl was asleep, so was Y/N. He went straight into the kitchen to drink some water and saw a note on the fridge. Dinner is in the fridge, it said, with a hand-drawn red heart on it - Beryl drew it, he realised. He smiled to himself and sauntered over to his room. Y/N was fast asleep. He stripped down to his boxers and climbed under the covers.

For once, Harry Styles felt like he was leading a routine life. A boring one.

—----------------------------------------------

Days passed. Harry had started going out with his friends every now and then. He wasn't even home on weekends. They went to pubs and parties every week. Kara and Harry had become closer than ever. She always tagged along with Neil and gradually, she became an unavoidable member of their friend group. She used to visit his studio whenever she was free.

"Do you want to grab a bite? There's this new bakery I wanted to try", Kara asked one day, when she came to the studio. No one else was there. Harry had to finish up a lyric, and was working on it when Kara called and informed him that she was coming over.

"Yeah, sure, I'd like that"

*****

"Wow, these are delicious", Harry said, as he took another bite from a macaron.

"Well, If you want any advice on anything, you know who to call", Kara laughed, lightly patting his arm.

Both of them had become really touchy with each other. Harry wondered if she was into him. He had felt a spark between them, an invisible pull guiding him towards her. She gave him new ideas and put in her suggestions whenever he was working on something when she went over to the studio. When was the last time Y/N did that? She was always busy with work. When was the last time they had sex? Hell, when was the last time they really talked to each other?

Kara brought out something in him, something fresh, vibrant and lively. He felt like he had become his younger self again. The mood was always playful and silly when she was around.

"Of course", he laughed.

"Can I ask you something, Kara?" , he suddenly asked.

"Why the formalities, H? You know you can ask me anything -"

His phone rang, cutting her off. Huffing, he looked at the screen to check who it was. Y/N. Way to ruin a moment.

"Hello? I'm busy, I'll call you back, okay?", He turned the phone off and turned towards Kara,

"Who was it?"

"Nobody, you were saying?"

"Actually you were about to ask me something. What was it?"

"Yeah, right. So um… I just wanted to erm… know if you were interested in choreographing a dance sequence for my new music video."

"Oh my God… really? I would love that, H", she squealed excitedly.

"So that's settled then, can we go over to the studio and discuss the details with the rest of the team?"

"Sure, let's go"

* * *

What Harry did not know was that his wife was actually outside the cafeteria he was in. She had gone to run a few errands when she saw him there. She called him to let him know that she was there. She was heartbroken after seeing him walk out with a woman, happy and laughing. Might be a friend, don't jump into conclusions, Y/N, she reminded herself.

The next day, deuxmoi had posted that they had sighted Harry outside the studio with a woman. Harry was worried that Y/N would be mad at him, but she didn't say anything. So, Harry was pretty sure that she didn't see it and was so relieved, to say the least.

But she did. She saw every single one of those articles that revealed to her Harry's location when he himself didn't. She heard about Kara doing the choreography from the tabloids, not him. She had seen the way he looked at her and she blamed herself for it.

—-------------------------------------

"And cut…" the director shouted and the room erupted into loud noises.

"It was great, Harry. Kara, you did an amazing job, this is going to break the internet, I can feel it in my kneecaps", he laughed.

The music video for Harry's new single, Medicine, was choreographed by none other than Kara herself. More importantly, she was the one who performed it with him.

The video showed Harry sitting at a bar, just like how they met for the first time, Kara walking towards him and talking to him. Then suddenly, everyone in the bar disappears, leaving a spotlight on Kara and Harry. They stand up and walk towards the middle of the room, performing a seductive, sensual dance sequence. The video ends when they lean in for a kiss and the screen fades to black.

They had excellent chemistry on screen, everyone said.

It wasn't just on screen, Harry wasn't faking it. He enjoyed touching her, the way she would turn putty in his arms. He wanted to know if she felt it too. Harry swore he heard a small whimper when he leaned towards her in the last scene. It caught him off guard. When the director yelled 'cut' , they pulled away from each other. They might not have kissed, but the closeness made him feel something.

People were leaving after the shooting. After thanking everyone, Harry turned towards the door, only to see his wife standing there, talking to a crew member. He didn't expect she'd come to the shooting. Yes, he had told her over dinner that they would be shooting the video the next day but he never thought she would come. To be honest, he felt like they were drifting apart, they didn't have what they had once, they were falling out of love.

His eyes widened when he saw her there. How long has she been there? Did she saw the way he was touching Kara? Did she understand how he felt? He could feel his palms sweating.

Putting on his fakest smile, he walked over to her and slipped a hand around her waist,

"Hey Y/N/N, when did you get here?"

"I got here while you were filming, your mom took Beryl for the night. You did fantastic, H. I'm so proud of you", she smiled.

"Thanks baby. Shall we head out? "

"Um… yeah, sure"

"You go wait in the car, I'll be there, gotta get my phone and wallet from the other room", he said.

—-----------------------------------

It was the day before the premier. Harry had arranged a celebratory dinner for the crew. Y/N was also there.

After the dinner, they were about to leave. Y/N had gone to the washroom and was coming out into the hallway when she heard Kara call out to her husband.

"H, wait up…"

Harry turned around to see Kara running towards him.

"Were you leaving?"

"I… yeah, I was. My wife had gone to the washroom, I was waiting for her", he said. She should know that he was married; she should know what she was getting into, if she was interested in him. But of course, she would know, he was The Harry Styles.

"Um, yeah… I just wanted to let you know something. "

"Yeah? What is it?" , he asked frowning slightly.

"It's just that I'm going back to L.A the day after tomorrow."

"Oh" , he wasn't expecting that. His face fell.

"I'm going to come right out and say it Harry, I really like you and I feel like you like me too. Uh…would you come to my apartment, if I invite you? We could spend one night together before I go back."

Harry couldn't believe it, she liked him!

Without wasting another moment, he stuttered out,

"I … yeah, I'll come. We'll go after the premier".

Y/N couldn't believe what she heard. Her husband was in love with someone else. He was going to cheat on her. Her heart dropped to her stomach. She just wanted the earth to split in two and swallow her whole into the abyss. She walked downstairs, shoulders slumped in defeat. She walked away and waited by the car, expecting his arrival. She heard his footsteps not long after. Wiping off her tears, she tried to act normal.

—-----------------------------------------------

The day of the premier. Harry had woken up before everyone and was getting ready. The stylist had done his hair and makeup. He just had to change into his tux.

"Y/N, are you ready yet, baby?" He called out.

When there was no reply, he walked towards the bedroom and saw her in her PJs, eyes puffy and nose red.

"Baby, are you alright? What happened? Aren't you coming with me to the premier?" He asked.

"Um, no, I'm not. I don't feel good. I think I'm going to be sick. Can you go on without me today?" ,She lied, her voice hoarse.

Harry didn't think twice before agreeing. He was already nervous about how he was going to go to Kara's house with Y/N around. Now that she wasn't coming, it was easier for him to go to her place, but when he was about to leave for the venue, she felt bad about leaving Y/N in such a state. Was it fair to her, what he was doing? It's just a night, and Kara will be off to god- knows- where after that. It was his last chance. Harry walked towards the car with confident strides.

—--------------------------

After Harry slammed the front door shut, Y/N broke down. She couldn't take it anymore. Harry won't be home tonight. He'd be going to her house and he'd realise that all he wanted was Kara and leave them. Y/N decided that she would leave before he'd have to break the news to her - she didn't want to hear that from him, she didn't want what they had to end, but what choice did she have? He doesn't feel the same way anymore. What was the point of staying there? After tonight, he would never be hers. He was going to give Kara something that belonged only to them. After tonight, Y/N is nothing to him. With a heavy heart and tearful eyes, she started packing all her stuff.

By afternoon, she was able to pack everything. She told Beryl that they were going on a little trip. They had to leave before he came home. She didn't know where to go. She took out her phone and called the only person who came to her mind - her best friend Alice. She called an uber in the evening and loaded all their belongings into it. With sorrowful eyes, she looked over at their house one more time ; the house they bought together, the house she thought they'd grow old together in, the house they had built so many memories in. With trembling hands, she opened the door to the car, let Beryl and herself in.

—--------------------------------------

The event went well. Kara was not wasting any time, touching Harry any way she could. He didn't object or in any way try to get away from it. But he gradually started finding it a little uncomfortable.

The premier was over by 7o' clock in the evening. Everyone was going about their seperate ways and as the time passed, Harry became more and more fidgety and skittish. He saw Kara approaching and gave her a nervous smile.

"Um, I think we should go seperately you know, to not give the press anything to talk about." She said.

"Yeah, right. So erm… you will go now and I'll come to your place later?"

"Exactly. Plus…it will give me time to prepare ", she smirked, walking away.

—---------------------------------------

Harry's heart was racing. He stepped out of the car and walked towards the house. The yard was illuminated with lamps on either sides of the pavement. With each step, he was getting more and more anxious.

"This is it", he muttered to himself. The chilly air of the night made him shiver. He involuntarily put his hand inside his pants pocket. There was something there. He took it out, it was a folded piece of paper, sides crumpled. Curious, he gently opened it, inside it was a hand drawn picture. He realized that Beryl must have sneaked in that picture the day before. Three stick figures stood in front of a rose bush. The words "all the best, Daddy" was written in purple colour. He smiled at the memory - when he and Y/N took Beryl to the rose garden while they were visiting France. Beryl was so happy to see the butterflies she saw there. She had even made a new friend there. They explored the city and Beryl was so tired by the time they went back to the hotel room, which gave Harry some much needed intimate time with his wife.

He thought back to the time when Beryl was born. He was out of town for a meeting when Anne called him, saying that his wife had been admitted to the hospital. She was out with Anne and Gemma at the time. He got to the hospital as fast as he could. There she was, smiling like the angel she was, holding a small bundle of blankets in her hand. He rushed over to her and looked inside the bundle to see their little baby girl.

"Our little girl", he said, tearing up.

"Our little girl", she repeated. He leaned over and kissed her forehead. "Thank you for giving me the best gift in the world, I promise to love you both till the day I die."

Harry teared up at the memory. He had everything. Y/N gave him everything. What had gone wrong between them? Was she not enough for him? No, she was always more than enough, it was his own stupidity that led him to where he was now. Then realisation dawned upon him - he was searching for Y/N in Kara. The way she made him feel, the way she soothed him; but the truth was that he could never find it in Kara.

It was never Kara, it was Y/N , it was always her and it was high time he let her know that; he had been taking her for granted. Harry turned around and started walking towards his car with confident strides.

Wiping off his tears, he focused on the road. Kara had been blowing up his phone. He felt disgusted at himself for even considering cheating on his wife. And the worst part was that he had left her all alone, sick, to care for herself when he was so eager to have another woman under him. He felt pathetic.

—-------------------------------------------

He parked his car and ran towards the front door. The house was covered in darkness. Why didn't Y/N turn the lights on? Was she that sick? At that moment, Harry hated himself for leaving her in the bed.

He turned on the lights and called for Y/N. No reply. He walked towards the bedroom, only to find nothing but a pile of sheets. He checked every nook and corner of the house for them, but to no avail. Harry started panicking. What happened to his wife and child? Where were they? He checked his phone again. No calls or messages from her. He called her back, but all the calls went straight to voicemail. Walking back to his bedroom, he found something he didn't see when he first came in... her wedding ring? On top of a wrapped box? He realised that it was the very same gift he gave her to make up for their fight - it hadn't even been opened. On top of it was a letter.

He was confused. He gently opened the letter,

Dear Harry,

By the time you see this, we would be out of your hair. I know I have not been the best wife, and trust me I've been trying.

After you told me that we were a burden to you, I had been trying so hard not to be a burden; I used to stay late in the boutique, do everything for you so that you won't leave me; leave us. I had realised that you had fallen out of love with me, but I didn't want to be separated from you, I thought it wasn't fair to Beryl. I thought I could handle it. But I couldn't. I hated it when I saw you with Kara. I hate that you don't love me anymore and I hate myself for it. I had seen you that day at the cafe and had called you to let you know that I was there. But I didn't know that you were with someone else. I didn't say anything even after you came home, because I didn't want you to leave us. I selfishly held on to the hope that if I stopped bothering you for everything, maybe you'd stay with us. But that hope was shattered when I accidentally overheard you and Kara at the dinner. I couldn't stay here after that. I am taking Beryl with me. I know I don't have a place in your life anymore. It hurts like hell and I know that I would never be able to move on from you because I loved you; I still love you. I didn't want you to tell me that you don't want us here, so I left with Beryl this afternoon. Don't worry, we won't be a burden to you anymore. I don't want your money or fame or anything, I just have a request to you - even if you regret me, please don't regret Beryl, she would be heartbroken.

I would tell Beryl that you have gone back for tour; she'd be sad at first, but she'd get over it eventually.

We won't meet again, Harry. I'll stay out of your life for good. I really hope this was worth it.

Goodbye,

Y/N

Harry stood there with the letter in his hand, shocked. And when reality sunk in, he collapsed onto the floor, tears streaming down his face.

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

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[intimacyequalsdeath]

Bubz's Slasher Fictober Day 10: Johnny Slaughter. (Pumpkin Spice)

Double digit days baby! Not much to say at the start of this other then my broken record speech so I hope you enjoy! <3

Notes: Minors DNI, Smut, Nsfw, No pronouns or descriptions of reader used, Only "you". Johnny would totally call you "Bunny".

I've only had it for maybe two weeks and I already play this game too goddamn much.

You had done it now, you had really fucking done it this time. You knew Johnny was going to be mad when he caught up to you, and by god you knew he was going to catch up with you.

The family had brought in a group of college kids, pretty routine shit, except this time you had be in charge of tying them down in the basement. Something or another happened and they ended up escaping.

Now Bubba had been able to round them up along with Sissy and Nubbins before they escaped the house. But you knew when Johnny caught wind of your lack to tie them down properly, you were done for.

So because you apparently loved to make matters worse for yourself, as soon as you heard Johnny enter the house and the door slam behind him, you made a run for it.

Once a would be victim of the family yourself who had countless escape attempts, you knew the Sawyer land like the back of your hand so you took off into the thick sunflower fields behind the house heading towards the slaughterhouse.

You could hear the heavy footfalls of the Sawyer that had both saved your life and declared that you were now his in front of the entire family. That was the only thing that had saved you from ending up like the rest of the group you had rolled in with.

Johnny was on you now, He grabbed the back of your shirt and brought you to the ground. His hand pressing the side of your head against the dirt as your ass ended up situated against the crotch of his pants.

"Well well well, What the fuck do we have here" Johnny spit at you, oh yeah he was totally mad.

"Johnny I'm sorry!" You yelled trying to smooth things over with him.

"The only thing I can't figure out is why you ran?" He said ignoring your apology.

"You know damn well I'm the best tracker and hunter in this family but you still fuckin ran, you KNEW I would find you but you still did it" He paused running the knife he always carried down the inside of your thigh you shivered at his action and he laughed.

"The more I think about it, the more I'm led to believe that this is exactly what you wanted. You wanted me to hunt you down, you wanted me to find you and give you a reminder of just who the fuck I am to you" The knife dug into your thigh and you could feel it slicing the fabric of your shorts.

Johnny removed the hand from your head to grip the fabric that used to be shorts and rip them off your bottom half. You knew well enough to not move your head from the dirt even if his hand wasn't there anymore. The dirt scratching against your cheek didn't even bother you anymore.

"So now darlin' I'm gonna show you exactly who the fuck I am to you"

All at once you were full, The one thing you had never quite gotten used to was the size of Johnny's cock. It stretched you and filled you more so then you had even been before. None of your old partners could ever hold a candle.

You blinked away the tears in your eyes has Johnny began to thrust, not even giving you time to adjust to his size before his hips starting snapping against yours.

"Bad bunnies don't get time to compose themselves" He had told you one time when he had bent you over the hood of his truck for mouthing on.

"Johnny" You kicked yourself when his name came out in no more then a whine.

"Shut the fuck up Bunny" His hand slammed into side of your head, holding it in place once more.

His thrusts sped up, each one filling you up and then as fast as you were full the fullness would disappear and you were left longing for it once more.

Johnny's finger gripped your hair, bringing your head up off the ground in his grip as he used this to get a better angle. He pushed himself deeper into you but his thrusts were still at the same speed.

The only noise besides screams coming out of you was his name. It reminded you of one of the cult chants Sissy had shown you when she returned the house from out west.

Your walls clenched as you came. Johnny didn't cum though, he never did the first time you came. So you knew you were in for the overstimulation of a lifetime.

Through your sensitivity, the thrusts continued. Every sweet spot inside you now even more sweet when Johnny's girth would brush up against it.

"Johnny please" You didn't realize you were crying until you spoke.

"Awe, what's wrong Bunny?, Is daddy too much for you?"

You swore you could feel each vein on his cock brush against a new part of you as it slipped into you. The thrusts were a lot smoother now that you had cum and lubed Johnny up. You could feel it dripping down in between the two of you making your thighs sticky.

Johnny gave a few grunts and let you know he was ready to give it to you.

"Johnny not insi-" You whined but it was too late.

The hot white ropes of his seed splashed into you, coating your insides with their warmness. You whined but reveled in the feeling.

"Sorry Bunny, Daddy doesn't cum anywhere but inside you know that." You nodded pathetically feeling like a scorned child.

He reached down between your legs and grabbed you where his cock had just been.

'because this is daddy's ain't that right?" Another nod.

"And if it's daddy's then that means daddy gets to cum in it no matter fuckin what" He growled into your ear as he leaned down pressing his chest into your back before gathering you in his arms and picking you up.

"Now that, that's over with you can go back to the house and get your punishment for runnin'" Your head snapped up to look him in the eye.

"B-but daddy wasn't that ?" You trailed off, He fixed you with a look.

"No bunny, fuckin' wasn't your punishment, fuckin you was just a reminder of who you belong to and who you should obey"

#slasher x reader #slasher fandom #johnny slaughter #texas chainsaw massacre #johnny sawyer #johnny sawyer x reader #johnny slaughter x reader #texas chainsaw massacre game #johnny tcm #johnny slaughter smut #Halloween #Fictober

[daryldamnson]

Put Your Head On My Shoulder

summary: on the drive home from a day out with the regular troupe, you and Eddie get shoved in the back two seats. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off when Eddie offers himself up as a human pillow. fem!reader, pre-relationship fluff, eddie pining for reader, supportive steve and robin

word count: 1k

title from put your head on my shoulder by paul anka

ao3 link

He doesn’t notice when your head dips down, the movement slow and his gaze fixed out of the window, hyper aware of how much staring at you he’s already done today.  He does notice, however, in his peripheral vision, when it snaps back upwards quickly as your eyes fly open.

Glancing over at you as you smile sheepishly, he finds himself utterly entranced by the soft sleepiness adorning your expression.

Steve and Robin have ceased their previous bickering and a few of the kids have taken to a game of cards - something clearly made up long ago with rules that seem to have been added to and twisted to the point of ridiculousness over the years.

Apparently even the rowdy yelling from the most vocal and competitive of them didn’t bother you enough to prevent the call of sleep.

You shake your head a little, as if you can expel exhaustion through will alone and Eddie has to tamper down the fond smile he can feel tugging at his lips.

You catch his gaze again and let out a soft huff of a laugh at the amusement you can see reflected in the deep, melted-chocolate brown of his eyes.  When you send him a playful glare as you stick your tongue out at him, he throws his hands up as if to say I’m innocent!  The way he snickers at you when you kick at his shin proves you shouldn’t believe him.

The moment passes and Eddie turns back to look out of his window once more as you do the same, soft smiles gracing both of your lips.  Lucas lets out a roar of victory as Dustin swears loudly and the small space of the vehicle feels so full of family and affection and warmth that Eddie allows himself to simply sit back and bask in it as he watches the houses go by outside.

It’s only a couple of minutes later that he feels a weight land on his shoulder.  It’s gone almost as soon as he feels it, leaving behind just the vaguest scent of your perfume.

“Sorry,” you mutter, having leapt away in surprise after falling asleep on his shoulder.

You offer him an embarrassed smile and he feels himself grin back a touch too happily as he shakes his head a little, feeling practically lovesick with affection for you.

“No, it’s okay.”

Your smile turns grateful at his acceptance but you clearly don’t catch on to what he’s really trying to say.

Please rest your head on my shoulder, he wants to beg.

“Um, you can…. You can go to sleep, y’know, if you want?”  He says instead, stumbling over his words as nerves overtake him.  “I mean, what else am I doing, right?  Might as well play human pillow,” he shrugs, going for nonchalance as he tosses a soft smile in your direction.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he nods, voice a little breathless in the sight of your endearingly sweet sleepiness.

Almost immediately you melt, head cushioned on his shoulder as your side presses into his.  You slip your arm over where his rests along his thigh and he tries desperately not to lose his mind.

The soft, content sigh you let slip does not help.

“Thanks, Eddie,” you murmur, sleep already seeping in and turning the words heavy and slow.

“Of course, sweetheart,” he mumbles back, finding the courage to flip his hand over so you’re palm to palm as you yawn into his shoulder.

The reward is immediate. 

You squeeze your fingers around his half-heartedly and Eddie feels a pleased flush make its way across his chest and up to his cheeks.

You slump just a hint more into him and he knows you’ve slipped into a well-needed sleep.

He supposes he hasn’t known you long in the grand scheme of things, but the few months you’d been acquainted had begun with the most eventful week of his life, and it’s hard not to develop an impenetrable bond with someone when you’ve risked life and limb for them and they’ve done the same for you.

He feels the same about everyone else in the car, but he can admit to himself - and once, fleetingly, drunkenly, to Steve - that his feelings for you go a little deeper than for everyone else.

He’s still working on building up the confidence to ask you out; still working on figuring out if there’s a chance you feel the same as he does.  And he absolutely does not want to be that guy.  That guy who doesn’t know where the line is.  That guy who makes your friendship awkward by taking it for more than it is.  That guy who loses you because he opened his big, dumb mouth and told you how much he really, really likes you.

The ease with which you’d melted yourself into his side and held his hand is doing wonders for both his crush and his hope.

As Eddie attempts to temper his smile, Steve catches his eye in the rear view mirror and gives him a knowing, bordering on proud grin in return.  Eddie’s not sure whether to feel offended or pleased.  He finds it’s hard to feel more than fleeting annoyance when he’s practically floating with happiness, though, so he gives in to the pull of his lips and smiles back.

Steve’s eyes return to the road as he mutters something under his breath to Robin, who not-so-subtly spins around to look at the pair seated at the back of Steve’s new Soccer Mom minivan.  He should’ve suspected that anything he’d shared with Steve in confidence (or drunkenness) would reach Robin too.

Let ’em gossip, Eddie decides, finding it easy to ignore the pair when the girl of his dreams is nuzzling her face further into his shoulder, her hand still gently grasping his own.

Steve and Robin share a knowing grin as the kids continue on with their game, ignorant to the goings-on of the adults in the car.

And if Eddie barely moves an inch the rest of the ride home then that’s nobody’s business.

requests are open but no promises i just go where the inspo takes me

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson headcanons #stranger things fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #pretty little loserboy #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x you

[violetspots1]

Part 2 to that Welcome Home Incorrect Quotes post I made, like, a year ago. Wow how productive of me.

.

Poppy: Good morning.

Julie: Good morning.

Eddie: Good morning.

Barnaby: You all sound like robots, try spicing it up a bit.

Sally: MORNING MOTHERFUCKERS!

.

Barnaby, holding in their laughter: Hey, how do you ask a glass of water what it’s doing?

Frank: A glass of water is an inanimate object. Therefore, it's incapable of having a thought process or understanding basic human language.

Barnaby:

Barnaby: Water you doing?

.

Julie, peeling a banana: May I take your jacket, sir? Hahahaha.

Frank: Do you think other people can’t hear you?

.

Wally: Good. Thanks, dad.

Poppy: You just called Eddie “dad”. You just said “thanks, dad.”

Wally: What? No, I didn’t. I said “thanks, man”.

Eddie: Do you see me as a father figure, Wally?

Wally: No. If anything I see you as a bother figure ‘cause you’re always bothering me.

Howdy: Hey! Show your father some respect!

.

Howdy: *on the phone* Just snap his kneecaps and he’ll talk, I’m at a parent teacher conference.

Howdy: Anyways, you said Wally is enjoying finger painting! That's great.

.

Eddie: Shouldn't get stressed out, it's not good for the baby.

Wally: What baby?

Eddie, crying a bit: Me.

.

Wally: The shadow realm? No, I’m sending you to Ohio!

.

Howdy: Well, if you're not at least a little bit gay for your friends, then what kind of friend are you?

.

Frank, looking at a selfie of Wally's: I hate this photo.

Wally: I’m cute as fuck in that photo! I’m smiling kindly.

Frank: You’re not smiling kindly; you look like you’re up to something.

Wally: Up to kindness.

.

*at a zoo*

Julie: What are they in for?

Frank: Julie, this isn't prison.

Julie: So they can leave?

Frank: No, but-

Julie, pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

.

Poppy: Fine! Judge all you want but...

Poppy, points at Sally: Married a lesbian.

Poppy, points at Julie: Left a man at the altar.

Poppy, points at Wally: Fell in love with a gay ice dancer.

Poppy, points at Barnaby: Threw a girl’s wooden leg in a fire.

Poppy, points at Howdy: Lives in a box!

.

Julie: Frank and I are so close we even share a toothbrush.

Frank: We what?

.

Wally: I never tell people off the bat that I'm gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like "you know I'm gay right?" and watch the look of terror on their face.

Barnaby:

Barnaby: I like you.

.

Eddie: I think I'm falling for you.

Frank: Then get up.

.

Julie: Why do you act like we’re three year olds?

Frank, exasperated: WHY?!?

Frank points at Barnaby: YOU TRIED TO HYJACK A CAR!

Frank points at Wally: YOU NEARLY JUMPED 20 FEET OFF A CARPARK!

Frank points at Julie: AND YOU ATE MULTIPLE DRIED LEAVES AND ROCKS OFF THE GROUND!

Frank: AND YOU ASK ME WHY????

.

Howdy: Just a minute. I need to go take out the trash.

Frank: Oh. We're going out?

Howdy: Wh…

.

Wally: *gets set on fire and screams in agony*

Wally: Nah, I’m just kidding. Fire does nothing to me.

.

Sally: I need 28 lightbulbs for 28 ducks.

Howdy: Ducks can’t eat lightbulbs?

Barnaby: I think that’s the point.

Sally: Exactly. I want my ducks to glow so I can find them.

.

Julie: Wasn't icarly that guy that girlbossed too close to the sun because he was down for Apollo?

Frank: ICARUS?

.

*at an awards show*

Poppy: Can I carry you on my back like Eddie did?

Wally: I don't think Barnaby would like that.

Poppy: *pouts*

*Later*

Poppy: *carrying Wally on their back*

Barnaby: What the hell??

Wally: What was I supposed to do? Say no?

.

Frank: I have very high standards, you know.

Eddie: I can make spaghetti...

Frank: Oh no! You're meeting all my standards!

.

Wally: I’ve been here in jail so long I think I’ve lost my mind.

Wally: The days turn into weeks, weeks turn into months.

Wally: How long have I been in here now? Almost a year?

Barnaby: This is Monopoly.

.

Wally: Could you guys at least try to see this from my perspective?

Barnaby: *crouches down*

Frank: *kneels down*

Poppy: *sits on the floor*

Wally:

Wally: I hate all of you.

.

*Sally is crying after a breakup*

Eddie: There there, Sally.

Sally, still crying: Thanks, but how did you get into my room?

Eddie: Great question—

.

Barnaby, knocking on the door: Howdy, open up!

Howdy: It all started when I was a kid.

Barnaby: That’s not what I-

Sally: Let them finish!

.

Julie, on a random band name generator: Oooo! They Might Be Depressed Horses! That about sums up my friend group.

.

Julie: War is heck!

.

Sally: What’s it like being tall?

Sally: Is it nice?

Sally: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

Poppy: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 4 chairs, 2 boxes, a small coffee table and 6 oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Wally: It was one time!

.

Howdy: Last night I found out Barnaby is a sleep talker.

Poppy: Oh, really?

Howdy: "The mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell." Right. In. My. Ear. At 3am.

.

Wally: Wakey Wakey Eggs and Bakey!

Poppy: But I'm a vegan.

Wally: Wakey Wakey Vegetables and Sadness.

.

Howdy: Imagine if someone handed you a box full of all the things you lost throughout your life.

Sally: It would be nice to have my sense of purpose back...

Julie: Oh wow, my childhood innocence! Thank you for finding this.

Eddie: My will to live! I haven't seen this in years.

Barnaby: I knew I lost that potential somewhere.

Wally: Mental stability, my old friend!

Howdy: Jesus, could you guys lighten up a little?

.

Frank, looking over Wally’s shoulder: You can draw?

Wally, stopping what they were doing: You can speak?

.

Wally, near tears: Please, Neighbor, I don’t speak meme! I don't know what a 'yeet' is!

.

Julie: A party is a celebration of a life, bringing people together to let the guest of honor know how much they’re loved. Frank has done so much for us. This is our chance to do something for them.

Eddie: By forcing them to have fun at a party that they don’t want to be at?

Julie: I knew you’d understand.

.

Wally: Julie noticed only today that they can label their email inboxes, but they took apart their entire bloody laptop two weeks ago.

Sally: This reminds me of the Julie who couldn’t turn on the coffee maker, but remembers about 500 digits of pi.

Wally: I’ll be delighted to inform you that this is the very same Julie.

.

Julie: What do I get?

Sally: A night of fashion, mischief, mayhem, and possible death.

Julie: Ooh, check, check, and check; not sure about that last one.

Sally: It won't be you.

Julie: I'll get my coat.

.

Wally: My crush isn’t picking up on my hints.

Barnaby: What hints have you given them?

Wally: Well, I think about them a lot.

Wally: And sometimes I even think about talking to them.

.

Poppy: Don’t worry, I know exactly what I’m doing. Everything is going to be fine!

Julie: How can you still say that?

Poppy: Because sometimes, when things get tough, denial is all we have.

.

Julie: If you spell skeletons backwards, it still spells skeletons.

Barnaby, deadpan: Wow, I can't wait for Halloween to see some snoteleks.

.

Wally: I'm not a morning person. I'm barely even a person.

.

Julie, holding a scooter: Poppy! Can I go outside and play with this?

Poppy: Sure, whatever. I'm not your parent, okay?

Julie, running outside: Thanks Poppy!

Poppy, running out after them and screaming: NOT ON THE STREET! STAY AWAY!

.

Sally: ....Thou shalt not marry each other, for thy art both sinful...

Frank: I just wanna fucking marry Eddie!!

.

Eddie: My life is a little too much panic and not enough disco.

Julie: My life is a little too much fall and not enough boy.

Wally: My life is a little too much chemical and not enough romance.

Sally: My life is a little too much imagination and not nearly enough dragons.

.

Frank: Fuck capitalism. It's a rigged system that keeps us poor and it isn't fair. You shouldn't need to work three jobs to afford basic necessities.

Frank, playing Monopoly: Sorry, if you wanted to win you should have tried not being poor.

.

I did it :D

#welcome home #wally darling #barnaby b beagle #julie joyful #frank frankly #sally starlet #eddie dear #howdy pillar #poppy partridge #incorrect quotes

[kyaa-q]

A Train Wreck (part 2)

Lee Minho x fem!reader warnings: lots of angst and tw for verbal abuse/toxic relationship wc: 10k6> AO3 link :) | Part 1 synopsis: Your life has changed a lot throughout the past 6 months, since you started dating Jun. Events lead you to slowly distance yourself from some of the people you loved the most - Stray kids. Even your friendship with Bang Chan, your closest friend, was damaged after that day. Now, you find your life to be like an unstoppable train wreck hurtling toward disaster. You're gradually losing the bonds that had always kept you sane, for a serie of events that turned your world upside down. It feels inevitable: you will crash. Could someone help you avoid the collision? Could someone take the wheel with you, and help you get control over your life again? You don't know anymore. There's only one thing you do know: you are not welcomed and Lee Know, in particular, might hate you. And his opinion about you hurts more than you wanted it to.

Or: Y/N is in an abusive relationship and ends up distancing herself from her friends (Stray Kids). She thinks everybody hates her, especially Lee Know. She doesn't understand the effect he has on her (and vice-versa).

Minho’s chuckle still echoes in your mind as you’re slowly pulled back to the present. The faint buzz of your phone on the table catches your attention. You don’t recognize the number showing on the screen.

Still not feeling entirely as yourself, you pick it up. “Hello?” The sound of your voice rings weird in your ears.

You reach for your cup and sigh melancholically when you find it empty. Should I get another one? At the counter, the barista laughs a little too loud of something the cashier just said.

“Hi.” The male voice greets you from your phone, though you barely register it.

Maybe I should go home.

A nausea knot twist in your stomach at the thought.

But where else can I go?

A sudden shattering sound makes you jump and you whip your head. The cashier quickly makes his way going through the tables until you spot the source of the crash. The couple begins a succession of anxious apologies, met by constant reassurance from the cashier.

You could’ve sworn the noise had come from your phone, though.

You shake your head. I definitely need to go home and get some sleep.

“Who is it?” You hold the phone between your shoulder and ear and start collecting your stuff.

“Ouch. So you actually don’t have my number saved.” You hear a soft laugh, followed by a frustrated click of a tongue. “That is fair, I guess. Why am I hurt, though?” He murmurs what you can assume that is mostly to himself. You grab your bag to leave and force yourself to snap out of the heavy haze clouding your mind.

There is something familiar about the man, but you can’t really put your finger on it. It bothers you. The feeling of missing something important is there, but it’s overshadow by exhaustion and you decide that thinking takes too much energy – which you have none to spare.

You rub your temples. “I’m sorry, I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Who do you wish to speak to?” You take a quick look at your phone screen on your way out, realizing it’s way later than you thought. “Are you sure you called the right number?”

“Very sure, Y/N.” His voice is soft and reassuring.

You sigh again. “So, how can I…” You start, but something makes you stop.

The way he says your name itches a particular spot of your brain. It’s not simply familiar – it’s somehow intimate, and you picture the warmth that wraps you when you go inside a house after walking through the cold in the middle of the winter.

A face also comes in your mind, but you almost laugh. It comes out as a weak breath instead.

It’s unlikely. Flashes of angry howls through closed doors bring back the pain and shame from that specific day, that hasn’t stopped haunting you even weeks later.

It is unlikely, you tell yourself. Very unlikely.

Still, his name falls from your lips before you can stop it. “Minho.”

“Hello, Y/N.” He replies and you know that it is, unmistakably, Minho.

In a heartbeat, the clouds in your mind vanish and you feel particularly awake. You resist to acknowledge the feelings – of relief and… yearning? Longing? – that filled your heart after the realization that Minho was calling you.

Minho, of all people.

You step outside and the cold spring air fill your lungs. Your gaze shifts to the darkening sky, extending beyond the towering buildings that rise above the ground. You wish you could see stars.

It was impossible to ignore the strangeness of it. Minho never calls you. Literally. In fact, you couldn’t remember a single instance where it had happened. Not in the beginning, when you first started showing up at the studio as Chan’s friend, and especially not after Jun, when his despise became obvious and spread like dark tentacles that you tried so hard to overlook.

“Hey. How can I help you?” You ask coolly. Then, a thought surfaces in your mind making your panic spike. “Is everything okay?” The words come out rushed. “What happened?”

“Everything is fine, Y/N.” He reassures you and, for some reason you don’t understand, you believe him. “Nothing happened.”

Thank God. You exhale audibly.

The relief is short-lived. “Then why are you calling?”

Minho chuckles, but you don’t allow yourself to feel bad for being straightforward.

“Are you free on Saturday?” The casualty in Minho’s voice is still off-putting.

“It depends.” You reply, warily.

His laughs reverberates in your chest. “Of what?”

“You’re acting weird. What’s going on?” You blurt out.

“Weird how?” There is amusement in his voice, the realization leaving you almost disturbed. He’s enjoying it.

“Come on, Minho. Get to the point.”

“You’re no fun.” He sighs, though clearly still enjoying himself. “The comeback is around the corner and Chan has been working relentlessly. Even though it’s nothing new, it still doesn’t mean it’s suddenly good for his health.” You bite your lip as he continues. “We managed to bargain with him, so he is taking a day off and we thought it would be a good idea to celebrate the comeback. Or whatever the excuse was. I guess you can call it a group effort to give that guy a break, even if it’s just for a night.”

All your defenses are dismantled, you know it. The familiarity of the situation threatens to suffocate you as your throat tightens, unable to stop the gratitude of squeezing your heart at the picture of those guys taking care of each other.

And somehow including you.

The tears burn the back of your eyes. God knows how Chan has been and still he had called you on that very same day. You don’t remember what you said – if you even said anything – and you can’t help but wonder if, maybe, he had called you in search of a friendly ear.

If that were the case, you had failed him terribly.

While you desperately tried to fix everything, you ended up making things worse. You knew now how mistaken you were when you thought that distancing yourself would make things better. Yes, you knew why you were acting so wary and evasive, but how could Chan have any clue? None of them did. How could they? By being scared of bothering your friends, by trying not to burden them, you singlehandedly decided to withdraw yourself. Simple as that, you pushed all of them away and then you went further. You had convinced yourself that you were doing this for them.

How could this be considered a selfless choice in any shape of form? How much of your actions were guided by altruism and love for your friends, and how much of it was led by selfishness and, especially, fear of being hurt again?

You shake your head, chasing off the thoughts in your mind and wiping away a single stubborn tear that escaped rolled down your cheek.

Perhaps you had been annoying the boys to no end. Perhaps they all had grown seriously tired of you and simply didn’t know how to bring it up. Perhaps you had crossed their boundaries and became a source utter of discomfort and displeasure. Perhaps they even hated you, while you remained oblivious to it.

Perhaps.

But then what?

“Just so you know,” Lee Know interrupts your thoughts and you wipe another tear from your face. “You are coming. I’m calling just to make sure you cancel whatever you may have planned in advance.”

You raise your eyebrows in confusion, stunned. “Excuse me?”

“I mean it. It’s not up to discussion.” You open your mouth but nothing comes out, and when he continues, his voice is quiet and soft, “Chan misses you, you know.” Your heartbeat falters in your chest. “And it’s not just him.”

The thoughts fly chaotically inside your head and you stop yourself from stating out loud once more how odd the situation is. The fondness in his voice isn’t new, you’ve heard it before. You’ve heard it when he spoke to Han, discreetly checking how he was feeling in the after stage. You’ve heard it when he bickered with Chan and the way he called hyung afterwards. You’ve heard it when he teased Hyunjin, when he complimented Jeongin and when he spoke of Seungmin to other people.

You witnessed different and subtle ways of caring Minho had toward every member. Outside the group Minho was extremely reserved, many times seen as cold-hearted – a huge mistake. It was hard to know how much it affected him really, though. You’ve always admired him secretly and from afar for his strength and resolution.

From afar, you say, because you were part of the “outside the group” team, obviously. Minho was a mystery to you, a distant figure that you respected and stopped trying to understand a long, long time ago.

In the beginning, you had wondered if you were the problem.

Because you had seen his affection when it came to the members, the indifference towards you was awkward to say the least. He was never directly rude, though his detached attitude could be – and indeed was – seen as such sometimes. One day, you were chilling on the couch at the studio as 3RACHA worked on a track, Minho suddenly stormed into the room. You immediately sat straight, surprised by the sudden and unusual burst of excitement coming from him, breaking the quite monotonous atmosphere the room had acquired. Minho walked past you and went straight to Chan and Changbin, giggling as he showed them something on his phone. Han left the live room, confused about the fuss.

Minho turned the screen to Han and they both spoke energetically, with Chan laughing along. Even Binnie, though shaking his head, clearly bit back a smile. The latter caught you staring in confusion, and waved off the commotion. “Silly boys, Y/N. They’re like children.”

“Excuse you!” Han exclaimed dramatically, “The new chapter of Demon Slayer is anything but silly!”

Chan laughed louder and Minho’s head jerked in your direction. He blinked a few times, assimilating the unexpected presence of a fourth person he had not realized before. Suddenly, he stiffend his posture and gave you a short bow, murmuring something to the boys and then turning to leave the room right after.

Not before you caught the bright pink shade in his ears.

“Is it me?” You asked a little later on that very same day. “Have I done anything to upset him?”

“What are you talking about?” Asked Changbin, swinging in one of the leathered chairs.

“Minho.” You explained, waving off the surprised expressions on their faces. “I’m just wondering if I did something and if I should apologize to him.”

“Are you serious?” Han’s shocked face seemed a bit of an exaggeration, you thought. “Do you think he doesn’t like you?”

“Come on, Hannie. I’m not blind.” You shrugged, though it came off a little forced. “I just don’t want to be in bad terms with any of the members.”

You were grateful for your friendship with Chan. He was an amazing person and you were so lucky to have him in your life. His life wasn’t easy, obviously. When he wasn’t busy with schedules of an idol life, he was busy working and doing music, so it was heartwarming when he went out of his way to introduce you to the others, especially to 3RACHA. Changbin and Han had welcomed you from day one, and you rarely felt so immediately comfortable around people you had just met, like it happened with them. You met the other boys a couple times, and even ended up hanging out with Hyunjin and Felix once or twice. They were wonderful, you knew, and you also were highly aware of the importance the group had to them.

Your heart ached watching what true love and acceptance looked like.

And because you knew how much each of them meant to each other, you started worrying about Minho. What if Minho didn’t like you? What would it mean to Chan, and the others? You didn’t expect everyone to love you, obviously, but you hoped to hold a neutral image at least. What if you couldn’t? Then what?

 “You haven’t done anything wrong, Y/N.” Chan said, and he pondered his words. “I can’t speak for him, but I’m sure that, with time, you’ll both get to know each other better.”

“So… does he not hate me?” You tried one last time.

Binnie’s eyes widened and Han chocked what you thought to be a laugh. “Absolutely not.” Han said, cleaning his throat. “I can assure you that.”

You rub your eyes, trying to stop a headache from forming.

In the end, it all comes back to Chris. It’s obvious that Minho cares about him, and so do you. It makes sense to unite forces for a greater cause. Kind of. It almost makes sense when you think of this as some common ground.

“Okay. Sure.” You say finally, feeling like your brain was replaced with jelly. “I’ll go.”

“Great!” Minho sounds pleased with himself, oblivious to the conflict happening inside your head. Good for him, you think bitterly. “Oh, there’s one more thing.” You grunt, but he continues. “No boyfriends allowed.”

Your body tenses and you feel your stomach drop.

This is not gonna end well.

“Minho…”

“That’s not up for discussion either. Sorry, Y/N,” He says, not sounding sorry in the least. “I don’t make the rules. Text me if you need a ride.”

“Minho, I don’t think this is a good idea.” You urge, scared he might hang up on you.

He does not. Instead, his voice becomes lower but steadier and assertive. “What is a not a good idea, Y/N?”

You take a shaky breath. “I know you don’t like Jun…”  You start, but your thoughts are a mess. They stumble upon one another and the necessity of having Minho understanding inflates more and more inside your chest. He waits in silence, patiently, as you struggle to put your thoughts into coherent words. “And maybe that’s all you see, someone who you don’t like and you want to avoid. And I get that, I really do. I don’t blame you, but… But it’s not that simple, Minho.” You try to swallow the lump growing in your throat, in vain. “And you know it is not. It’s easy when you are not the one dealing with him afterwards. I know you don’t like him, but this is not the way out.”

Minho doesn’t speak for another moment and your words linger heavy in the air.

“Is that what you think?” His voice is restrained and devoid of any strong emotions. It’s difficult to know what he is feeling and you can’t help but resent him a little for it. He’s able to keep himself collected while you’re a goddamn mess. “Do you think it’s because I don’t like him?”

“I mean… Yes?” You laugh but it comes out lifeless and dry. “Come on, Minho. Are you gonna tell me you actually enjoy Jun’s company?”

“Of course not, Y/N.” He breathes out, exasperated. All the teasing and amusement from earlier are gone without a trace you could actually think you’ve imagined it all. “It’s evident I don’t like the guy. That’s not the point.”

The blunt admission doesn’t trouble you near as much as you thought it would. Rather, it’s the determination weighing in on his last sentence that makes you stagger. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m missing, Minho.”

“Don’t be sorry.” The determination is still there, along with what you think is anger. You don’t feel like you’re the target of it, though. He takes a deep breath and, when he speaks again, he chooses his words carefully. “What would happen if you came without him?”

The answer is awfully easy. The fight unfolds vividly in your mind and you look past it. You know Jun will be mad when he finds out, that he will ignore your calls and texts for weeks – maybe days, if you’re lucky. It’s not up to you anyway, since Jun appear to have his own time that changes depending on his mood. You know he will come back as if nothing happened despite that, eventually. You know that none of you will speak of it until another fight breaks out, only then might it be brought up again. Which is fine! It gives you plenty of time to worry about it in the future instead. The first few days are always the hardest, though, and the guilt is suffocating – you can feel it, even now. A chocked wry laugh comes out of your throat. How is it possible to feel guilty for something that has not even happened yet?

It’s because, you realize, the remorse doesn’t come from this specific and hypothetical scenario. The lingering heavy pressure that fills up your chest comes, alternatively, from all the other countless arguments you had throughout the past few months.  These fights planted seeds of shame and guilt in your heart and watered them. The seeds bloomed into thorny vines and craved marks in your heart like carving stone.

These apprehensions run through your veins blended with your own blood. The constant fear and dread of taking too much space, of being too loud, of being selfish and a burden, they are part of you like stretch marks.

You’re aware that fights will happen regardless of what you do, but still, deliberately giving them motives feels even worse.

“I don’t want him to be mad, Minho.” You say instead, and silently wonder why you feel comfortable talking about this with Minho, when it’s something you hardly feel with yourself. “You know the picture it paints. If I went to a party where he was specifically asked not to come, that’s like cheating.” You cringe at your own words. “Kind of. I don’t know, Minho. You know what I mean, you’re not dumb. You would get mad too.”

“Of course I wouldn’t.” He states nonchalantly and it surprises you. You scoff, annoyed, but he continues. “I’m serious. You’re asking whether I’d be mad if my girlfriend went to a party with her friends without me, right?” You feel a frenetic energy growing inside you, your entire body buzz with tension. It feels wrong, forbidden. Minho, on the other hand, is still as tranquil as he has ever been, unaware of the vileness of the conversation. “If so, then the answer is no. Of course not. Thinking my partner will cheat on me only because I’m not around is kinda dumb, isn’t it? If my presence is the only thing stopping them from doing it, then why am I with them? I obviously don’t trust that person at all.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs and your breath is caught in your throat. You know Minho is not teasing you, his tone is devoid of malice, and he comes off as anything but judgmental – which makes it somehow worse. Deep inside, you wish he were disapproving, critical of you. You wish he showed disappointment and disdain for your choices and actions, anything that would sustain the twisted image you had of yourself. You wanted him to put the blame on you, right in your face, with the same fierceness he had displayed that day at the company building. You needed him to, so you could maybe start making some sense of things.

Instead, he was collecting the few convictions you had and putting them under a different light, showing you how they change and distort when viewed from other angles.

He is wrong, you feel it in your bones. He does not understand. Minho is not getting the full picture. You open your mouth to tell him, to explain what he’s so badly missing.

Nothing comes out.

If my presence is the only thing stopping them from doing it, then why am I with them? I obviously don’t trust that person at all.

You squeeze your eyes shut. He is wrong. He doesn’t understand.

“What if you don’t tell him you’re coming?” He questions, and you inhale air back into your lungs.

“What?” The night has fallen and you shiver.

“Are you seeing him on Saturday?” He asks, with a low but stern voice.

You try glimpsing inward, at the hurricane of thoughts swirling in your mind. Silently, you thank the solid wall helping you to maintain balance.

No, you're not seeing him on Saturday—at least, you haven't planned anything. Of course, you haven't. Jun went silent for over a week and only came back today. Before you could plan anything, you both ended up in a fight. There's still a chance you might make up before Saturday, though.

Actually, Jun can call you at any moment. Or not. He can call you in the next five minutes or in the next five days. He can simply show up at your place at any time, as he’s done before.

Including on Saturday.

The possibilities of things going wrong are endless.

But, obviously, you’re not saying all of that to Lee Know, so you stick with simplicity by saying, “I don’t think so.”

“Then come.” He appeals, making your heart squeeze, “And don’t tell him.”

Oh, if things were that simple. You shut your eyes, imagining how it would be to see the world through his eyes.

What would happen if he were to be standing in front of you right now? What would you see? Would you catch the same glimpse of disappointment you did that day? Would you find shame and pity in his face, when facing the mess of person you’ve become? Would you find anger and contempt?

Or would you see his face matching the softness and understanding you hear in his voice right now?

You open your eyes wide.

It made no sense. You question your own sanity.

“Why are you being nice?” You can’t help but ask. Fuck it. “It’s weird, Minho. Why would you even care?”

“The way you talk, I’m actually starting to wonder how poorly I’ve treated you.” The trace of hurt among the playfulness in his tone did not go unnoticed. “Am I this monstrous?”

“That’s not it.” You cut in quickly, your thoughts and feelings tangling to the point of becoming an unrecognizable mess.

“Y/N.” He says, and you curse the effect he has on you every time he says your name.

Why does it feel so intimate? Why does it feel so profound, like he’s reaching for the edges of your broken heart and feeling its wounds with the tip of his fingers?

But most importantly, why does he sound to be in as much pain as you are?

“You will be safe.” He says, and the certainty in his tone makes you defensive. He means well, you know, but it is hard to stop the hold back the grim laugh.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Minho.” You are safe now. Who does he think he is, implying otherwise? He knows nothing about Jun and your relationship.

He knows nothing about you.

“Sure. I probably don’t.” He dismisses, a little far-fetched, and the graveness in his voice fades away. “Anyway. Come up with a dozen theories of why I’m suddenly being nice now, I don’t mind. Actually, I’d love to hear them on Saturday, so be creative.” You want to protest, but he continues, “And save my number, for God’s sake. Is Chan’s the only number you have saved on your contact list?”

Contrasting feelings battle inside your heart and mind. You feel on the edge, like your world has been turned upside-down. The exhaustion weighs in on your shoulders, and you ache for your bed.

You look up at the sky again, allowing the darkness of nocturnal silence embrace you. It’s a shame you can’t see stars. “I actually have Bin’s and Han’s too.”

“Really?” He wheezes, untying just a little the knot of tension between you two.

“And Hyunjin’s.” You don’t know why you add.

“Now you’re just trying to hurt me.” The smile grows on your lips. “See you on Saturday.”

You hum, too tired to argue, and he hangs up.

You stare blankly at your phone. Your body is both numb and buzzing with a weird energy you can’t name. The thoughts in your head spin so quickly that, just as a Newton’s disk, a blank space is left.

A notification pops up and catches your eye.

Unknown: I really meant it when I said I’m not giving you the chance to skip this one.

Unknown: Lemme know if you need a ride.

Unknown: and save my number.

On your way back home, through bright streets and packed sidewalks, you allow your mind to wander.

Going to anywhere explicitly without Jun was a powerful statement by itself. The fact that it was with the members had an extra impact. Until now, the boys had maintained an overall neutral approach when it came to Jun (except, obviously, for Minho). This changes things, though. Could it be that the request came from Minho individually, and not from all of them? Did Chan know about it? Had he agreed with it? What if Minho was asking you to come without Jun for his own amusement, for the drill of it?

You rub your temples, finally arriving to your apartment. I’m going insane.

As you press the elevator button, one thought stands out amidst the confusion of feelings.

Why would it matter?

What would change if it were a request coming from Minho or even from Chan himself? Jun was never the biggest fan of your friends and he never tried to hide it, not once. They, on the other side, although never explicitly stated not liking Jun, always kept an overall polite approach toward him. Being honest, you’d be surprised if they had any slightly positive opinions about Jun. Could you even blame them? Could Jun blame them? What right had Jun to be upset if the people he so clearly disregarded ended up despising him back?

You step into your apartment, close the door and take off your shoes. The place is pitch dark, but you know all the corners and walls.

If, in the worst case scenario, Jun did end up throwing a tantrum, then what?

You shake your head, reluctant. It is like a big silent lake in your mind with dark and still waters – you do not wish to know what lays underneath. This train of thought is like throwing stones on the water, disturbing the unprovoked.

A resentment starts blooming in your chest, and you direct your mind toward Minho and his motives.

That is not the point, though. The voice echoes in your head.

Even though your better judgment tells you that you should not trust people this easily, still, you believe him. The resentment and anger that had barely bloomed withers, powerless.

Minho hadn’t called you for some evil plan to sabotage your relationship.

Minho called to give you a second chance.

You arrive in your bedroom and turn the lights on at last, flinching from the sudden brightness. The bedroom isn’t cramped, but looks rather small due to the expanded bed. Normally twin-sized, the bed had the structure to be pulled out and expanded, turning into a full-sized one. It looks comfier, and the messy sheets call as siren songs.

In between pillows and blankets, you sigh in relief.

There are many things you still fail to understand, that day at the company is, certainly, the biggest of them all. As time passes, you struggle more and more to make sense of what you’ve heard back then, and in other circumstances, you would’ve thought you had imagined it. Minho and his motives were just a small part of the whole picture.

In the end, one feeling stood out from the tangle: you want to make things right.

Shutting yourself away would not solving anything – in fact, it had only made things worse. It did not help you feel better with yourself. You still couldn’t think of a good way to talk to Chan and the others about it. The disappointment glazing in Minho’s eyes still haunt you to this day, hand in hand with the anger in his shouting.

And on top of all of it, there was what Minho had said on the call. He did imply that they, Chan at least, were suffering, didn’t he? Chan misses you. And it’s not just him. These two sentences kept repeating in your mind like a broken disc, being as soothing as they were painful.

How did it change things?

Could it be that, by trying to push them away so they would not get hurt, you had caused even more harm?

Certainly, there were a lot of missing pieces from this huge puzzle you were trying to solve. Regardless of that, by the time you fall asleep, you are sure of two things:

First, you want to make things right.

Second, you want to go to that party.

The days passed with no major events and you ended up not telling Jun. You weren’t entirely okay with that, as the guilt was still very much there. The sense of wrongness persisted in not telling him all of your plans and routines, especially if they didn’t include him. It was hard to shake off the feeling of betrayal, and you relied on Minho’s words for comfort more often than you were willing to admit.

Jun also had his part on making things easier. For the first time, you thanked the absence and the silence from his end. It’s easier to not speak about something when you simply don’t… well. Speak.

For once, you chose to be bold and you chose to be selfish. You would go and hang out with your friends, leaving the consequences for the future you to deal with.

It was around 5pm. You had already showered and was going through your wardrobe, thinking about what to wear. That was when your phone buzzed with a notification.

Lee Know.: I meant it when I said we are not giving you the alternative of not coming. This is not up for discussion.

Lee Know.: Lemme know if you need a ride.

Lee Know.: and save my number.

Lee Know.: I’m coming to pick you up at 6.

You rolled your eyes. I never said I needed a ride. Minho seemed to be pushing all your buttons and being very aware of that.

You: Thanks, I’ll pass. Tell me where it is and I’ll call an Uber.

The response was almost instantaneous, and made you frown.

Lee Know.: can’t. sorry.

The audacity. Two words and your felt your blood boil.

You: ??? what’s your problem?

You: I said I’m going, you don’t need to escort me.

Annoyed, you let the phone on the coffee table and marched towards your room. You chose a black romper that, even though the neckline was lower than what you would usually wear, it had long loose sleeves that made it one of your favorite pieces of clothes. It was elegant, but mainly comfortable with a very casual vibe to it. It fit the occasion. You dried your hair and put some makeup on, keeping it the simplest you could. Although Minho had called it a “party”, you had attended some of these gatherings before and you hoped it was going to be the same: just some close friends reunited in the dorms. Nothing classy and no glamour. Just a bunch of people hanging out with each other and having fun.

You picked white sneakers and went back to the living room.

You were putting the sneakers on and Minho had yet to reply. If you ended up being late, he would be the one to blame.

Between tying your shoes and cursing Minho, you heard a jingling of metal followed by the click of your front door being unlocked. Your breath was caught in your throat when you saw Jun crossing the doorstep, his gaze finally finding yours.

Fuck.

The argument unfolded unsurprisingly, but by no means coolly. It was like a scene of a movie that you’ve watched countless times and you know all the lines by heart. He flipped out about you sneaking out, as expected, but nothing came even close to the way he looked at you after you said he could not come along.

First, he was furious, thinking you were doing so to make him jealous. Then, when he understood that it was, actually, the boys themselves who asked you to come alone, he was livid.

You tried to cool it off. You explained how stressed the boys were and how this was something to distract them when comeback is so close. You tried telling him that it was something for them and by them, and that they had all the rights to invite whoever they wanted. It was understandable they wanted to keep it between actually close friends – which Jun, clearly, was not.

It had little to no effect. At least, not the one you wanted.

Between cursing and outrageous claims, Jun accused you of choosing them over him. You asked, bordering on pleading, when has it become a competition? Why does it have to be one over the other?

Tears burned on the back of your eyes as you begged for understanding, for sympathy. Jun, meanwhile, laughed wryly. I can’t tell if you’re this naïve or if you’re simply playing dumb. Almost like you both spoke different languages, and you hated how dumb you actually felt.

You like the attention. He said spilling venom, and you looked at him horrified, unable to form any words. I’m right, am I not? I’m so disappointed, Y/N.

That rang a bell in your head.

Maybe it was because you had spent even more time recently thinking back to that time in the elevator, but, even involuntarily, the comparison was inevitable. By putting that event with Minho next to the current Jun, it became obvious to you how little the latter affected you – especially when set side by side. The tears rolling down your cheeks started to dry.

So now, even as you stare at Jun’s horrified expression, like he’s just seen the most atrocious of atrocities in your phone, the fact that the quarrel happened in such a predictable way doesn’t weigh in your conscience as much as you thought it would.

Jun laughs sharply and you know that, whatever it was that Minho had the fortune to text back in the worst moment possible and catch Jun’s attention, made Jun angrier. It is pointless to argue and you don’t feel particularly angry having Jun going through your phone. When you lay back on the couch, all you feel is tiredness.

Jun speaks again but the words go past you without much solid meaning. Joke. Humiliating. Rich. Whore. He drops your phone carelessly, falling to the carpet with a muffled thump. He leaves the apartment with big and loud steps, slamming the door shut on his way out.

Seconds slowly tick by as you’re left alone in silence, the ringing in your ears reflecting the state of your own mind. You force yourself to take deep breaths, calming down your wild heartbeat at the same time that the lump in your throat starts to shrink.

When you finally reach the phone laying on the carpet, your mind is blank and you feel oddly numb. You unlock the device and find the chat with Minho already open. You tell yourself it is normal for your hands to shake.

Lee Know.: I meant it when I said we are not giving you the alternative of not coming. This is not up for discussion.

Lee Know.: Tell me if you need a ride.

Lee Know.: and save my number.

Lee Know.: I’m coming to pick you up at 6.

You: I never said I needed a ride. Tell me where it is, I’ll call an Uber.

Lee Know.: can’t. sorry.

You: ??? what’s your problem?

You: I said I’m going, you don’t need to escort me.

Lee Know.: your boyfriend. he is the problem.

You sigh heavily - God damn it, Lee Know.

At that moment, as if he was listening to your thoughts himself, the phone rings in your hands. You answer it and the words seem leave your mouth on their own accord, “He just left.”

“Where are you?” He asks, after a moment. Minho’s voice is hard, while yours is shaky. You feel exposed, and you vision blurs. You don’t want to start crying again.

“I’m home.” Your voice trembles as you sniffle. I can’t do this now. “It’s okay. Everything is fine.” You gather yourself and speak with a confidence that you both know to be a lie.

“I’m outside.” Minho tells you and it takes you a moment to understand what it meant. Outside…?

You bolt upright and dash toward the balcony, spotting him as soon as you reach the ledge. Even from several stories high up, Minho’s dark figure stands out, standing next to a black car parked across the street. When his eyes meet yours, even at this height, your heartbeat hiccups.

“Do you want me to come up there?” He questions, maintaining eye contact despite the distance.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to.” You dismiss promptly. You were confused about many things, but having Minho in your apartment at that moment sounded undoubtedly like a bad idea. “I’ll be there in five.”

“Y/N, are you sure you are okay? I can call Chan and…” Minho’s voice trails off, his glance shifting from you to something across the street. “Oh, fuck me.” He swears under his breath, so lowly you barely catch it.

“What’s up? Minho?” You bend over the ledge a little, as an attempt to see whatever caught Minho’s attention.

Then your mind connect the dots, and you feel an utter idiot for not considering it earlier.

Jun just left the apartment. It couldn’t be more than five minutes since he had slammed the fucking door behind him. Which meant that Jun was still in the building by the time you picked up the phone.

Was indeed, because you’re sure the other figure you see stepping out the main entrance right now is Jun.

Your eyes dart toward Minho again and you say, soberly and carefully. “Minho.” All the weakness from a moment ago was gone. “Don’t.”

You start hearing Jun’s voice on the background and, though you can’t tell what exactly he is saying, you don’t have to. He’s angry and you watch his figure slowly approach Minho standing as still as a statue on the other side of the street.

You turn around and run.

Jun’s voice gets gradually louder and clearer, indicating he’s getting closer. You press the elevator button anxiously multiple times, but the elevator seems to take forever to arrive. You curse it silently. You curse the elevator and the lack of technological advance to build faster elevators. You curse the building for being too high and curse yourself for not living on the first floor.

“Leave.” Minho’s voice is cold as ice and sharp as a knife and sends shivers down your spine. “You don’t wanna do this.”

Fuck it. You take the stairs.

Jumping two and more steps at a time, you fly downstairs. “Minho.” You call brethless – a beg, a plead, an order, even you can’t tell. He cannot get into trouble, especially an argument in public. If Minho is seen by anyone in public, a fan or not, and it ends up reaching the internet, he’ll be screwed. He cannot stain his image, he’s a fucking idol, for God’s sake! “Please.”

“What is your problem, dude?” You make out Jun’s words, and his bold anger is maddening. Jun should know better than to cause a scene with Minho. He needs to know better. Jun cannot be that immature.

He can’t be. Right?

But rather than the idiotic bad temper, it is the fact that you can clearly hear him now, meaning that he is closer to Minho than you thought, what really troubles you.

Hurry, hurry, hurry. Your loud footsteps echo across the staircase mixed with the sound of you panting.

“Have you not caused enough damage to that poor girl?” Jun goes on mockingly.

“Excuse me?” You hear Minho say between gritted teeth.

“I know your type, big boy. I see what you’re doing.” The proximity between them makes your stomach sink, you can hear Jun even now that he’s not shouting. “You never liked me, huh? Was it because I stole your little toy?”

You feel sick.

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating.” Minho says grimly, “And I’d ask you to not come any closer with this finger pointed.”

“Minho!” You call out again. He needs to back off now. You feel the tears burning on the back of your eyes. Where the fuck is the first floor? Faster, Y/N! Faster faster faster faster.

Jun cackle dryly. “Oh, Cut the crap. We’re not dumb, you know? We heard that little show you put on.”

Jun wouldn’t tell him that. He wouldn’t do it.

“Minho, don’t do anything!” You plead between short breaths, over Jun’s voice. Minho can’t listen to him. “I’m almost-“

The momentary lapse of focus makes you stumble upon your feet, and you let out a yelp as you stumble down. You desperately grab the handrail to stop yourself from falling. The attempt, however, is awkward and you barely manage to steady yourself as one of your foot continues its descend as the rest of your body is jerked backwards.

You find yourself laying stiffly lying on the stairs, still holding on the handrail with one of your hands. Your heartbeat is as fast as the wings of a flying hummingbird, it is stuck in your throat. You let out a breath, then follow to take multiple deep breathes as a way to slow down your heart. Still, you don’t attempt to stand up just yet, not trusting your legs to not act like jelly after the shock. You’re okay.

A moment after, you register the slam of a door being opened extremely close. A fear of having someone seeing you like this, sitting on the dirty ground of the staircase so obviously affected starts forming in your mind. Before you can articulate it, and perhaps stand up to compose yourself, Lee Know enters your line of sight. Oh, so I was on the first floor.

Damn, so close.

His eyes widen as he assimilates the scene in front of him, and you fear his eyes might pop out of his skull. He went paler by two tones at least, and you wonder how bad you look. You start reassuring him you’re fine, but when you’re about to stand up, Minho already flew and is by your side, stopping you.

“Do not move.” He takes your hand from the handrail in his, holds it for a moment, and places it on your side. You watch him as his eyes run through your body, inspecting it. Being the main focus of his attention is intense, and you shift in place, uneasy. “Did you hit your head? Your back? Do you know what your name is?”

You blink, surprised by the overflow of questions. There is something so tender about the look in his eyes that lit up an entire lighthouse in your chest. There is also a fear of someone who has seen a ghost – or went through a near death experience from falling down the stairs – and you have the urge to take his hand on yours, but you hold yourself back. The apprehension in his demeanor is something new to you and worth to note. His hair looks soft and it’s shorter than it was last time you saw him. The shade also changed, a chocolate kind of brown replaced the black – and you decide you like it just as much. Your eyes travel down to look at what he’s wearing.  The black bottom-up shirt has the first and second bottom open, making you instantly shot your eyes back up. You find Minho tilting his head to the side. “Y/N?”

“Yes?” The word comes out as breathless as before, and you blame it on the fall. You cough and close your eyes, breathing in slowly. Calm down, Y/N.

“I’ve asked you a question.” Minho says, and you spot a hint of amusement in the sea of concern in his voice.

You open your eyes. “You’ve asked several questions, actually.”

He smiles softly, which works against your goal of slowing your heartbeats. “Yet, you haven’t answered not even one.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m fine.” He doesn’t say anything and keeps staring, waiting for you to go on. “Really. It was just not the most graceful of my falls, I guess.”

He cracks first and chuckles, which gets a laugh from you and soon you’re both cackling.

The laughs have calmed down when he inhales deeply, close his eyes and let his head fall back, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He breathes out. Even though he’s not looking at you, you feel the need to look down, fidgeting.

You murmur, “I was scared you could get in trouble.” It doesn’t give half the picture of what was going through your head and it sounds pathetically silly, but you don’t elaborate any further.

“So you thought that running downstairs would be a good idea?” There is a shadow of teasing in his voice. You had expected Minho to make fun of you. You could see him telling you how dumb and reckless you were, saying how even kids know they shouldn’t run when going downstairs. You expected to be blamed for something so stupid. Instead, you encounter fear when he asks lowly, “Do you have any idea how badly you could’ve been injured?”

This rough concern coming from him was unsettling – you knew he was a caring person, but he’s only shown it when it came to the other members. You had never experienced it yourself before. “What else could I do, Minho?” Your voice doesn’t falter. “What was I supposed to do? Just wait and hope you’re not seen causing a scene? Chris would kill me.”

“I was not causing a scene.” He’s bitter, and you understand. After all, he is right. He wasn’t the one adding fuel to the fire.

“Would that even matter?” Your question comes out as a plead, and for once you’re not embarrassed. You both know what you mean. You’re aware of how they have to watch even the most innocent of actions when in public. Tabloids have the power to mess with someone’s image, it doesn’t matter if they are true or not. The public doesn’t care, and neither does the company. His carrier is intrinsically involved with public image. What could happen if someone recognized him arguing with Jun, and ended up posting on the internet? Idol Lee Know, fighting with a random civilian on the street. Would it matter who was the one who started it? The company had taken severe actions for much less. “You should’ve gone back inside the car and locked the damn door.”

It’s his time to roll his eyes, but before he respond, the slam of a door echoes throughout the staircase. You tense, your gaze shifting towards the stairway. Minho, on the other hand, simply stands up, but with his eyes still fixed on you.

Jun goes up a few stairs and shortly reach both of you. “What the hell?!” He shouts at Minho, spotting him first. Minho doesn’t acknowledge his presence. “What the fuck is wron-“ He follows Minho’s stare only to find you and, probably thrown off by the strange image of you half sitting half laid on the floor of a public staircase, Jun’s behavior shifts. The aggression is replaced by concern and confusion “Oh my God, Y/N. Are you okay?” He mentions to step closer towards you, but Minho blocks his passage with an arm. You see Jun’s face getting red with anger again. “Who do you think you are?! She’s my girlfriend!”

Although Jun storms at Minho, the latter doesn’t even glance at his direction. Instead, you find Minho searching for your eyes – and when they do find them, you don’t think of your heart skipping a beat. Somehow, you understand the silent question in his gaze: he wants to know from you whether he should allow Jun to come closer or not.

It makes your heart swell.

You don’t want Minho to give in – you don’t want yourself to give in. Although it shouldn’t be some kind of competition of who has more power over who, you think. First, to get some of your dignity back, you should at least look at them in the eye. You grip on the handrail once more and propel your body upward, rising to your feet.

At least you did, for a brief second. Then, you’re taken by a sudden strike of pain that hit your right ankle like a lightening. You cry out and collapse to the floor again – or you would, if it wasn’t for Minho. Before you know it, Minho has one arm around your body and pulls you closer to him. Leaning on him, you regain your balance and stand on one foot – the one not hurting.

“Are you okay?” He asks lowly as he stares down at your feet.

“Yes.” You breathe out and follow his gaze. “Fuck. Shit. It wasn’t hurting before. I swear.��� You look at him apologetically, and you don’t understand the need to apologize.

“I know, Y/N.” He meets your eyes and soothes your side with the hand steading you for a moment. “It’s okay. Let’s take you to the hospital.”

You shake your head anxiously, “It’s fine. We’ll be late if we don’t leave.”

“I can take her.” Jun chimes in with a hint of smugness, reminding both of you of his unfortunate presence.

“I don’t need to be taken anywhere.” You snap at him and unconsciously try to step back from Minho. The pain shots through your body once again and you clench your teeth, instantly leaning back on him again.

Minho lets out an annoyed sigh. Suddenly, he lifts you up and holds you bridal-style. “Ya! I can walk!” You squeal, ignoring the butterflies in your stomach and the increasing warm on your cheeks.

“I’m sure you can. But as you said it yourself, we’ll be late if we don’t leave and we don’t have much time.” He says, turning around. You see Jun’s shocked look, and becoming more and more horrified after Minho says, “If you excuse us, you’re in the way.”

“I said I can take her. You can go on and meet your friends.” Jun doesn’t hide the venomous intent.

“Oh, I will.” Minho replies, indifferently. “With her. Now, move.”

Both yours and Jun’s faces get redder and redder, but you guess it’s from different emotions. “Or what?” He growls, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s gone too far. This bickering went too far.  You want to apologize, to clarify things. You open your mouth and nothing comes out – you don’t know what to apologize for. You almost say “It’s not what you think!”, but you realize it sounds as idiotic as not saying anything.

“I’ve been told to keep myself away from problems, and, as you can see, my hands are quite busy.” You groan quietly, and hides your face on Minho’s shirt. Slightly bad choice – his scent wraps around you like a blanket, and you become hyperaware from the steady thud coming from his chest, far slower than yours. Oh my God, can he feel my heartbeat? “So I’m afraid we’ll have to stand here for hours just staring at each other’s faces. It doesn’t sound much fun, does it?” Minho tilts his head to one side, “Although my face is way more pleasant to look at.”

You tug Minho’s shirt, “Minho. That’s enough.” Jun makes an outraged noise, and you exasperate, “Come on, Jun. Stop being childish, you two. Can we go, please?” The last request, directed at Minho, comes out way softer than the rest and you feel your face burning once more.

In disbelief, Jun steps aside. As Minho passes by him, you murmur a sincere apology. You feel Minho’s shoulder tense, but he doesn’t stop walking.

Jun doesn’t follow you outside the building. Minho crosses the street toward the parked car in silence. There is a tension in the air, and you know he is angry. Minho is definitely mad at Jun, for being an ass, but you feel he is mad at you too. The silence is intimidating, though, and you don’t dare to break it.

When he reaches the car, he shifts his hold onto you to just an arm for a brief moment, enough so he could open the car door. He does it so smoothly you could’ve missed. Gently, he places you on the passenger seat, pushing the seat backwards to give you plenty of space to stretch your leg.

His hands hover for a moment, hesitantly, but before you can ask, he removes them and let them fall on his sides in closed fists. Minho’s expression is grave, and you can almost see the gears spinning in his head. He inhales deeply and runs his fingers back on his hair.

When he comes to look at you again, the somberness is gone. He’s locked his thoughts and emotions somewhere far away inside his mind and if you had one wish, it’d be for you to have the key.

Although his voice is soft, it feels somehow forced. “Are you comfortable? Does anything else hurt?”

“I am fine, I promise.” You shift anxiously on the leather fancy seat, “Extremely comfortable.” You add, giving him both thumbs up and a smile.

He scoffs dryly, though some tension washed off his body. Pleased with easing things a little, you think that, perhaps, leaving with Minho and then going to the party to meet you friends again doesn’t have to be so painfully awkward. Things are fine, you think. There is a big chance that the awkwardness exists only in your head, that it might not be the same to the others. Maybe, hanging out with them will be as natural as it always was. Maybe, they don’t hate you. Maybe, things will be alright.

After all, they are your friends. You don’t need to be on the edge.

You thought Minho was going to close your door and walk to the driving seat. Instead, out of nowhere, he comes closer, hovering over you. You yelp and hold your breath, dizzy by the unexpected and definitely not usual proximity. His perfume hasn’t left you yet. His side profile is so close that you can see all the small dots on his skin. You want to caress it. Your eyes move to his long dark eyelashes. You’re jealous. You are amazed by how sharp his features are, and you wonder if it would be weird to have your fingers tracing his jaw. Then his cheekbones. Then his nose.

Then his lips.

“Found it.” He whispers to himself. Suddenly, your backseat reclines a little and you’re caught by surprise. “Is it better?” He finally turns to face you. Still close, but not as close as before, you’re sure it doesn’t take much to notice the flushed mess you are. You feel you were caught doing something very, very bad. And wrong. Oh my God, so wrong.

You shake your head, trying to shoo the wicked thoughts away. When you look your eyes, though, you feel your sanity slipping through every crack in your mind as a smirk grows on Minho’s lips. “I asked you a question, Y/N.”

God help me.

All you manage to do is nod once, gaining a hum in satisfaction from him. He backs away and close your door, and you watch him walk around the car and enter on the driver’s side. You close your eyes and take deep breaths, trying to calm down the pounding inside your chest. He puts his seatbelts on and you wait for him to start the engine. There is a moment of silence, forcing you to open your eyes.

Minho is staring at you. With an eyebrow raised and failing to hold back a smile, he looks at you with curiosity. You look at him back, challenging. “What?”

“Seatbelts, Y/N. Or should I put them on too?” He teases, and your eyes open wide. Definitely not. Shortly you are fastening your seatbelt as Minho finally gives up on holding back and laughs. You cross your arms and curse him under your breath, while he starts the engine and pull off.

A few minutes later, the car dashboard signalizes Minho is receiving a call. Involuntary, you glance at the screen at the same moment Minho takes the call. It’s Chris.

“Yes, Hyung?”

“Hey, are you on your way? Did you get Y/N?” Chan’s voice comes through the speaker. Your heart aches a little, realizing how long it has been since you started avoiding them, and how much you missed the casualty and warmth.

“I don’t think we can make it, Chan-hyung. Y/N probably got a sprained ankle or something of the sort.” You catch Minho’s eyes shifting from the road to your stretched leg just for a moment. “I’m taking her to the hospital.”

“To the hospital?!” Chan’s surprised squeal makes you blush, embarrassed for causing trouble even now. “Oh my Gosh. I’m gonna kill that dickhead. That was him, wasn’t it? That fucker I will-”

The sudden shift from surprise to anger caught you off guard. You open your mouth to say something, but the words don’t come.

“It was not the dickhead, for the matter.” Minho cuts the flow of cursing off. “Also, you’ll like to know we’re in the car right now.” He adds quickly, at the same time you try to think of something to say. “She can hear you.”

Chan audibly chokes and coughs. “Oh, fuck. Sorry.” He manages to say, cleaning his throat. “I’m sorry. Hi Y/N.”

He’s obviously embarrassed, which makes you feel slightly better. “Hi Channie.”

“You should’ve started saying that, Minho.” Chan says, lowly, and a smile grows in your lips once more when Minho murmurs something under his breath. “Are you okay, sweetheart? What happened?”

His soft voice was enough to dismantle any kind of discomfort, you thought. “I’m okay.” You start.

“She fell downstairs.” Minho chimes in, and you shoot an angry look at him, which he ignores bluntly. “She thought it would be a great idea to run down several stories of stairs, like a damn child.” Minho says wryly, keeping his eyes on the road. “She’s lucky it’s not anything more serious.”

“I was trying to save your ass!” You protest.

“My ass did not need to be saved.” He states.

“Oh, sure.” You roll your eyes. “Clearly you were not about to jump at my boyfriend’s throat. I wasn’t even there and I could tell.”

“Excuse me?” His voice falters with anger and he scoffs, “I was about to jump at his throat? I think you might mistaking the parties here, dear.”

You ignore the pet name and point your finger at him. “You should’ve gone back inside the car the moment you saw him and you know it.” His eyes travel from the road, to your face, then to your finger and back to your face.

“Are you actually pointing a finger at me right now?” He raises his eyebrows and turns his eyes back to the road. Heat spreads in your cheeks and you recoil your hand.

“Should I ask or…?” Chan speaks up hesitantly.

“No.” Minho says fiercely and you huff, crossing your arms across your chest and looking away.

“You didn’t get into trouble, right, Minho?” Chan asks again.

“Of course not.”

“You’re welcome.” You chime in, grimly, and you don’t face away when Minho shoots an angry look at you.

“Good to know you two are getting along.” Chan offers, with a hint of fun in his tone.

You gasp and utter “We are not getting along.”

At the same time, Minho says nonchalantly, “A hundred percent.” You stare at him in disbelief, but he refuses to glance back at you.

“Do you think it’s serious, Minho?” Chan asks and the shift in his voice is so abrupt that, for a moment, you don’t know what he is referring to.

You catch Minho’s eyes shifting from the road to your legs again, and you feel the growing heat in your cheeks. You’d give anything to go back in time and choose some jeans or anything that covered your legs instead.

“It’s probably just a strained ankle, hyung.” He glances away and you shift anxiously.

“I am fine.” You say, exasperated. “I even told him we should head to the dorms instead.”

“That’s because you’re stubborn, not fine.” Chan cuts you, and you see the corner of Minho’s mouth turning up. “Keep me updated, Minho. We’ll talk later.” Minho agrees monosyllabically and hangs up.

Minho stays quiet during the rest of the ride. You risk one or two glances in his direction, but he seems to remain unaware, his attention fixed on the traffic. Sometimes, you catch his jaw clenched, and he holds the wheel so tightly for a moment that his knuckles go white.

But here's the thing: besides these small and subtle gestures, his expression remains painfully plain. It's puzzling, and it intrigues you against your will. You keep telling yourself that not only do you not care, but also it has nothing to do with you. The man would probably not even make the effort to reply if you asked, or maybe you'd hear a 'None of your business,' if he felt like it.

After a moment, you decide that you don't mind. You reach for the air to ask what's bothering him, to seek permission for a glimpse into his inaccessible mind, but you exhale right after. The question dies on your tongue when he takes a turn, and the large white building emerges.

Maybe for the best.

He parks swiftly, quickly turning the car off and getting off. When you turn to open your own door, he’s already standing outside and doing it first.

“Should I get a wheelchair?” Minho tries, hesitant, his hands dance on the air unsure of what to do.

A short laugh escapes you before you can stop it. “It’s not necessary, Minho.” You mention to get off and, when he offers his help, you accept it. “Thank you, it’s okay. I’m sure I can handle it.”

He holds your hand with one hand, while the other presses your back giving you balance. Minho doesn’t answer right away and when you look up, he has a confused look on his face. He blinks once, then twice, assimilating your words. “What?” You can’t help but ask.

“I’m not leaving.” He declares, and it’s your turn to blink confusedly.

“Chan is waiting for you.” You explain, firming your weight to your good foot.

“Yes.” He moves to your side still holding your hand firmly, while having his other hovering on your back. “And for you too. So let’s go inside.”

You don’t move, still staring at him. “You’re going inside with me? You don’t have to.”

A soft smile blooms shyly on Minho’s lips. “Silly. You can barely stand. Shall we?”

A feeling of déjà vu fills your chest, and you shove it back inside. You let him guide you into the hospital, scolding yourself silently for finding yourself in front of this building with Lee Know by your side more often than you deemed appropriate.

#skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #lee know fanfic #lee minho fanfic #lee know x reader

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“Let You Off With A Warning” - Beau Arlen x Reader

Part of the “Guardian of the Gulch” Series

Rating Teen

Beau Arlen x Reader (eventually)

Tags: Fluff and Flirting

Word Count: 1900

There's a new sheriff in town. And he just so happens to have parked his RV in your campgrounds. What's a park ranger to do with all that Texas charm strutting around on a fine pair of bow legs?

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Food as Bonding" square.

Image created in Canva (credit for photo used: ABC/Michael Moriatis)

Corey’s eyes are ready to roll right out of his eye sockets. He slumps over the counter, office phone pressed tight to his ear.

“Absolutely.” He enunciates every syllable. “Yes. I can see how that would be quite an intrusion.” Those stubby fingers snap to get your attention. 

You’re finishing up your checklist after vehicle patrol. When did fireworks become an every night of the week event for days prior to the Fourth? The annoyance can become dangerous in Black Sandy State Park. Especially when bored kids and drunk adults get it in their heads to light things on fire on campgrounds during drought conditions. You’re figuring that’s what the call’s about. Things had been relatively quiet so far that night.

You had hoped they were going to stay that way. All you wanted to do was clock out in the next five minutes, get home, and catch up on “The Bachelor” episodes filling up space on your DVR.

“We’ll have someone head over and take care of it.” Corey smiles at you.

You groan back at your Park Manager. You’re the only other someone.

~

You head to the campsite that phoned the office first. It’s a husband and wife with a large brood. They’ve got every creature comfort under the sun - or in this case, moonlight - in their parcel paradise by Hauser Lake. The Class A motorhome makes you wonder what kind of house they left behind. 

The wife is the one running her mouth at you even though the husband had called to lodge the complaint. You try to wrap your head around the noise she’s harping about and how it’s possibly bothering the four kids. All of the children are laser-focused on handheld devices. They don’t even look up when mom asks them to corroborate how annoying the sound from their neighbor is. 

If you had your way, you’d block all WiFi access in every part of Black Sandy. 

After the requisite pleasantries, you turn and trudge through the shadows to the lodger who’ll be getting a talking to. Though not the talk Mrs. Devonshire is expecting.

You adjust the cap on your head. The voice emerging from one solitary speaker is muffled and mono on your approach. The silver Airstream is curvy and sleek. A standout that manages to sparkle even in the dark.

Its owner sits in a lawn chair. He’s watching some old time western projected onto a white sheet tautly stretched between two poles.

His eyes have cottoned on to your movement seconds ago, you're sure of it. His day job requires him to be hyper aware of his surroundings at all times.

“To what do I owe the honor of a house call this late, Ranger? Raccoon invasion? Dump station on the fritz?” He stands to greet you. An open beer dangles from his fingertips.

“Nothing that exciting, Sheriff.” The Bachelor’s got nothing on this specimen. The handful of times you’ve crossed paths, you are never quite prepared to be in this man’s presence.

“I’m not on duty. Call me Beau, remember?” He grins to confirm the allowance of such informality.

You sigh. “Afraid I am on duty. And have to request a favor.”

He nods and tilts his head over to the Devonshires. “Let me guess? I’ve done something to upset Linda.”

You raise an eyebrow. “How’d you know?”

“I had her figured out as soon as she waltzed over to introduce herself bright and early this morning before I left for work.” His lids widen in emphasis. “Ten minutes of my life I’ll never get back. Is she about to release the kraken?”

You chuckle. “Just turn down the volume on your movie a smidge, please.” You pinch two fingers together. “We’ve never had a complaint about you before, so no worries. We’ll let you off with a verbal warning this time.” You grin.

He’s amused at that. “Mighty kind of ya. Well, let me do it right in front of you, so you can put it down in your incident report.” He strolls over to the speaker and dials down the knob. “Perpetrator immediately complied with the request.” He announces, a little on the loud side. “In case Linda’s watching.”

You stifle a laugh. “I’m guessing she doesn’t know you’re the Sheriff of Lewis and Clark County?”

He shakes his head. “How would she? I don’t think I got five words in this morning.” He lifts the lid of a green cooler with the toe of his cowboy boot, bends down and pulls out another beer bottle. He has a bounce in his step on his way back to you. “But, you know, I don’t reckon it would’ve even mattered. She still would’ve had Larry make the call.”

“How’d you know Larry called?”

He shrugs and offers you the beer. “Lucky guess.”

You wave a hand. “On duty, remember?”

A tip of his wrist has him checking his watch. “You getting paid time and a half? It’s almost nine.”

You smile at how well he catalogs information and smooth talks with all that easy Texas charm. By your second run-in with him he’d found out your work schedule and how important it was for you to stick to it. He even had you fess up, somehow, to your penchant for reality TV, especially shows of the love competition variety. You grab the beer and twist off the top. The beer tingles down your throat in a welcome swallow. “It’s all your fault I’m still here.”

“Well, then, let me make it up to you. Sit a spell.” Before you can register, he’s snapped open another lawn chair near his own. He presents it with a flourish.

“I guess I should hang around for a bit. Make sure you don’t get yourself in more trouble.” The chair settles into the dirt under your weight.

“Not the first time it’s been suggested I need a chaperone.” He sits alongside you.

You nod at the movie. “What’re you watching?”

He stares at you, disheartened. “Really?”

“I don’t do westerns.”

“Pale Rider. Clint Eastwood. It’s a classic.” His head shakes. “Kids today.”

You scoff. “Kid?”

“You can’t be more than 25,” he states with complete earnestness.

“You don’t need to butter me up, Beau. I already said you’d get off on a warning.”

“How about some bribery then, just to ensure nothing ends up on my permanent record.” He nudges a bowl on the tiny circular table in your direction.

It’s hard to make out the contents. You squint. Light from the projector brightens up the scene for a moment. “Oh, you found them.” You pull out a cherry and tug at the fruity flesh between your teeth to release the stem.

“I did. Saw ‘em at a farmer’s market in town. You were right. Flathead cherries are amazing.”

“Hm.” You concur and indulge in the sweetness. “So good.”

Beau snickers. “You two need some alone time?”

“So good,” you repeat. “First pick of the season reminds you of what you’ve been missing all year.”

He nods and grabs a couple for himself. “That’s what the guy at the stand was spoutin’.”

Beau Arlen has only been the sheriff for a few weeks. But you agree with the assessment that most have of him. He’s an affable and acceptable substitute while Walter Tubb recuperates. Arlen’s smart and ingratiates himself easily with everyone in the county. He knows those that keep things running in Helena by their first names already. And as you are someone that secures and protects a part of state land in the county under his jurisdiction– well, you get to share a beer and some cherries with him tonight. 

The conversation is light and dances about with no rhyme or reason.

“What’s your favorite meal to eat back home?” He asks with great interest. With an angling of his head upward, he shoots a cherry pit out of his mouth like a mini cannonball into the shadows. You think he’s intentionally aiming in the direction of the Devonshires. “Like, the kind that needs your undivided attention?”

“Easy. Grilled salmon and roasted asparagus with mashed potatoes.”

Beau takes a swig. “Found anything comparable here?”

“Not yet. Doubtful it’ll be anything close to what I could get back home in Oregon.” You course correct and try not to be too hard on the place you’ve called home for the past two years. “But, you can fish a decent dinner out on the lake.” You thumb at the water behind the trailer. “The trout and perch are tasty.”

“I haven’t gotten around to fishing in Hauser yet.” He sighs.

“Seems like every time I turn on the local news, something major is going on in the area. Most of it ain’t good.”

“Tell me about it. I thought this would be a slow drip favor of a job for a friend. I was saying to Hoyt today that a dam holding back all the crime must’ve burst as soon as I got here.”

You make a note to give Jenny Hoyt a call. You haven’t hung out with her or Cassie in a bit. It’s time to catch up and get all the details you can about the new sheriff in town. “Well, what crime has Helena committed when it comes to your favorite meal back home?”

“Oh.” Beau’s lips flap as he releases air from his lungs. “Haven’t found a good T-bone yet. Tried grilling a couple myself but I don’t know, just not the same. What I wouldn’t do for a melt in your mouth steak with some buttered corn on the cob and a baked potato topped with sour cream and chives.” He licks his lips with a far away stare.

You grin at how fond his expression is over the memory. You kind of wish he’d stare at you like that for even a second.

Some soft pops ricochet in the night air. You both sit up at the sound.

“Fireworks.” Beau states. You nod and then wait to see if anything can be seen in the distance lighting up the sky. It quiets again after some seconds. “You better get home before you can never leave,” Beau decides. You open your mouth to protest. He only shakes his head and cuts you off. “Hey, if Corey’s got something to say about it, just tell him the sheriff can pinch hit if he needs backup.”

You smile. “Not sure if that’ll fly coming from me.”

“Then you tell him to call me if he needs confirmation.” He nods and this time the smile he gives you is fond and, dare you think it, a bit flirty. “Besides, you’ve got a bachelor waiting for you at home, doncha?”

The laugh bubbles out of you. “I doubt he’ll be any better company.” You purse your lips at the confession that gave more of your thoughts away than intended.

He stills at the compliment and takes it in for a long beat. The smile that curls up is soft and sweet. “Thank you.”

“Thank you.” You rise and leave the half drunk beer on the table. 

Beau rises as well, always the gentleman. 

“Have a good night.” You hurry out the words to match your steps.

You don’t dare turn to look back at the sheriff. You can’t stop grinning like a giddy school girl.

His voice, low and warm in the summer night, draws out, “You have a good night as well.” He adds, “Ranger.”

#jacklesversebingo23 #beau arlen x reader #fanfic #fluff #flirting

[mintichoco]

CREDIBLE | twtptflob

"ARE YOU AWARE THAT I CAN KILL YOU WITHOUT SO MUCH AS MOVING AN INCH?" | "SO COULD A CHICKEN WITH ENOUGH MOTIVATION, YOU'RE NOT SPECIAL"

TITLE TRACK. psycho - red velvet

FANDOM. the way to protect the female lead's older brother

CHARACTER. oc-insert, visuals of aria valentine

PRONOUNS. she/her

SUMMARY. a gen-z kid gets dropped in the world of twtptflob. . .right infront of lante agriche

FORMAT. headcanons, scenarios

INSPIRATION. this post by @rouecentric

NEXT CHAPTER. [1, you are here] • [2]

Nash was an iPad kid in every sense of the word. Her mother could not bother to care beyond sending monthly checks to the manor (more like luxurious jail) where the caretakers pocketed half the sum and the rest went to pamper her.

She could't be mad, there were plenty people out in the real world who'd kill for that kind of money. She spent her days tinkering on school projects, binge-watching historical k-dramas and being a general menace to the working staff.

Now imagine her surprise when she went to bed at three in the morning after haphazardly throwing together an art project featuring 'Kakashi the grey hare' and woke up on cold hard marble, instead of her fluffy mattress.

"What the heck?" She shuffled to a sitting stance, rubbing her sore neck.

The brushing of black skirts and the scruff of boots tethered her attention to the floor.

There were maids, a few dozens of them. Nash had her own nannies, sure, but nobody in the twenty-first century wore these silks unless as costumes, that too the very short version and for funzies on Tiktok or the bedroom.

"Woah-", a grin danced on her face. "Is this some sort of cult? Before the intro, I'll make this clear, I don't wanna be a part of this scooby-doo squad. Now, where am I?"

Silence, silence. Silence everywhere. Then, a fine looking specimen of testosterone-producer stepped up from the crowd, gripping a sword-A SWORD?!-in his hand.

"What business do you have with Agriche? How did you manage to get past the barrier guards? Start talking before I make sure you never will."

Well, zamn, who hurt you?

"Yeah, I was hoping you'd the know the answer to that?" She was thoroughly confused. "And since you don't, we can all just forget this ever happened and go our own seperate ways, okay? Okay, bye!"

A brilliant beyond brilliant idea popped up in her head. Taking out her phone, she tried searching for a signal. Hey, her mother may not pick up but she will dispatch atleast one guard to check on her.

"What is that?" The emo grandpa snapped his fingers. The phone was snatched away in an instant.

Nash reached for the object, only to be shoved away. "Hey, that's mine! Give it back!"

"Master, it seems to be some unknown technology, far beyond research-work mentioned in the archives", the woman replied and handed it over to the man in the lavish tux with a. . .bow?

What the frick is happening?!

The man chuckled and Nash felt a chill go down her spine. "A spy? Tell me, which lowlife has started copying my tactics, hm? Though, it is for the greater good, I suppose. The kids outside of this territory are pathetic, they pose no worthy challenge for my soldiers."

Which grown ass man sends people to fight kids?!

With furrowed brows, legs and arms crisscrossed, Nash drew a long breath. "Look dude, I don't know who you are or where I am but I don't mean to cause any trouble. . .yet. But if you don't return my phone, we're gonna have a problem here."

He quirked a brow and a tide of murmurs erupted from the audience. With a subtle clang his weapon was unseathed, the sharp blade pointed straight towards her neck.

Holy mother the of sweet Je-

"Are you aware that I can kill you without so much as moving an inch?"

Her breath hitched and she felt the hiccups coming. "So could a - hic - a chicken with enough motivation. You're not special-"

"Father, you called?"

A whispery voice carried by the wind stopped the man dead in his tracks from possibly ripping Nash a new one.

"Roxana", he rasped, clicking his tongue. "I don't appreciate tardiness. In any case, I'd like you to familiarize yourself with the latest brand of spies that are sent after us. Do they think of us as idiots!”

With that attitude, you’d make a fine Karen, sir. Wait. . .did he just say ’Roxana’?

Nash swiveled on her heel faster than light, coming face to face with said exotic beauty, shimmering rubies for eyes, adorned in a fashionable gown that almost made up for it’s weight.

"Y-You're Roxana Agriche?!"

At her starstruck exclaimation, the lady pursed her lips and only nodded curtly in acknowledgement.

Suddenly, Nash was clutching her head. She felt dizzy, she was definitely going to hurl.

Bye-bye fancy carpet, so long. . .

"Forking fudgecake!" The first row of maids probably jumped at the sheer decibel of her shout. "Did I get hit by truck-kun? No, that's not possible. How will a truck get in my house?! Murder, then? Not unlikely. . .although who would assassinate sweet ol’ me? Let’s see. . .”

"As you witness”, the newly recognized Lante Agriche waved the sword dangerously close to her face. Nash skiddadled to Roxana’s side. "This one doesn't know how to behave.”

Nash tilted her head to gander at the second heir’s face. She was lost in thought, her face overcome with a forlorn expression.

Roxana stroked her chin and then nodded. "You wish for me to oversee the interrogation?”

Lante grinned like a madman, thankfully storing away the blade. "As expected, you are a natural.” Nash had to do a double take to make sure his face fell in the matter of milliseconds. "Do not disappoint me.”

A sharp pain appeared in her scalp when her obnoxiously long pink hair was grasped and she was pushed back against the wall.

Yup, no wonder all the female leads hate this.

Lante did his best impression of a ravenous beast from the Black Forest, snarling and sneering. ”I will figure out where your loyalties lie and set an example through you. Am I understood?"

As astonishing as it is to be held like this by a 2D character, it ducking hurts, biAtch!

"Y-yes, sir!" As if-

He released her but it felt the same, as if her head was on fire. "Take her away.”

Roxana did not spare a moment to escort Nash to her room. They arrived in two minutes max and the blonde dismissed her tendants for the evening.

With a cotton swab and a bottle of suspiciously glowy liquid, she started dabbling the scratch that had formed on Nash's face, right under her eye from being thrown against the stone column.

She was quiet for most of the time while Nash observed Roxana's face. The teen truly was a looker, one worthy of people stopping in their tracks to stare at.

Light hair framed her face like a halo while piercing red eyes that tore through one's soul akin to the devil himself.

"Earlier, you mentioned a truck, yes?"

Nash blinked dumbly. "Uh-huh."

Roxana looked her directly in the eye. "Are your perhaps from. . .This is going to sound ridiculous but are you from Earth? Like, the actual modern world?"

The pinkette chewed on her botton lip. "Er. . .maybe?"

Roxana dropped her head and if Nash wasn't mistaken, she sighed out of relief. "How did you end up here?"

The younger girl threw her hands up. It felt weird talking to a fictional character who went into a fictional-fictional world.

Wait, that makes no sense.

"I don't know, lady! One minute I'm falling asleep reading manhwa on my computer and the next thing I know kaboom Lante-the-asshole Agriche is in front of me!"

"What's a manwha? Did you not read the novel-", Roxana paused mid-way, narrowing her gaze. "You are much too young to read those kinds of books."

Nash coughed awkwardly. "Well, I didn't exactly read it. It doesn't even exist in my world."

"Meaning? And you say your world as if we're from seperate ones."

Nash clapped her hands, slouching against the cushions on Roxana's bed. "Bingo." The girl stared at her, perplexed. "You know about the miltiverse theory, right? Y'know, spider-man and stuff like that?"

The blonde nodded.

"If I were to guess, we are both from two different realities. It's like a layer formation. The 'Flower of Hell' takes place in one, then you enter from another and change the course of the world and then I enter from a different reality like a cherry on top."

Roxana remained still, the subtle widening of her eyes being evidence of understanding. "I see. In any case, we need a place to fit you in. As far as I've looked, there is no escape. Other than death, but that is uncharted territory."

Nash made a face. You speak of death like it's the next door neighbor. Then she remembered. But for her, it probably isn't the worst thing to happen.

She cleared her throat, shrugging as nonchalantly as possible. "Any chance I can take a shower? I kinda sorta really stink."

The ghost of a smile passed over Roxana's face. "I will ask for a bath to be prepared." Her gaze traveled down, "And a tailor to take your measurements. Can't have my charge looking so haggard."

Nash looked down, her face burning red. She was still in her Hello Kitty jammies. "Hey!"

Roxana stood up, packing away the medical kit. "I will be back later. Your dinner will be sent here; eat after freshening up. And try to keep a low profile. The less people are aware of your existence, the better. Fa - Lante will likely dish out my orders for you at dinner."

She made to leave but turned around again.

"What?"

"I did not catch your name."

"Nash", the pinkette replied with a too-shrill voice, trying to rub the exhaustion out of her eyes.

Roxana was amused. "Full name?"

"Ugh. . .Nashira Parker, at your service, m'Lady."

As soon as the door clicked shut, Nash threw herself on the heavenly bed, feeling her body sink into the spread of softness.

'What a day. Welp- this is my life now, I guess.'

#twtptflob #the way to protect the female lead's older brother #roxana agriche #roxana #dion agriche #jeremy agriche #lant agriche #griselda agriche #maria agriche #cassis pedalian #manhwa #twtptflob x oc #twtptflob x reader #dion x reader #jeremy x reader #roxana x reader #ashil agriche

[theemporium]

[REQUESTS OPEN—requested by anonymous]

39. “You ramble and it’s adorable.”

42. “Hey, only I can call them that!”

[1.6k] or, in which dustin tries to set up his sister and steve.

.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Oh brilliant, it’s you.”

Your eyes never left Steve as you closed your car door behind you, already making your way towards him as he did the same. It wasn’t that you didn’t like Steve Harrington, not really. You had just never bothered with the likes of him until one day he was all your little brother kept talking about and suddenly your lives were intertwining with a man you had barely shared three words with during school.

You knew the reputation Steve had and he had done very little to prove otherwise. It honestly confused you how sweet little Dustin could worship the guy the way he did.

When you drove him to school, he was talking about Steve. When you picked him up, he was talking about Steve. When he was helping you set the table for dinner, he was talking about Steve.

You couldn’t escape Steve Harrington as much as you tried.

And then Dustin and his friends made it to high school and started joining clubs and making friends, and you weren’t sure how, but now you were sharing pickup duties with Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington.

You would’ve laughed a few years ago at just how bizarre the whole thing was.

“It’s Friday, Henderson, it’s my turn to pick them up,” Steve said as he swung the car keys around his finger, stupid sunglasses perched on his nose as usual.

“And Dustin asked me to pick him up today,” you told him, your hands tucked into the pockets of your jacket as you stopped a few feet away from him. “He said he called you.”

“Well, he didn’t.”

“Well, you know now!” you said to him with a sickly sweet smile on his face. “Bye, Harrington.”

Steve frowned as he stood there, watching as you started making your way towards the entrance of the school before quickly running to catch up.

“I was here first, you can leave,” Steve said to you, his longer legs making it easy to keep up with your fast pace as you made your way towards the room the Hellfire Club was usually held in.

“And now you aren’t needed,” you snapped back, keeping your eyes on the hallway in front of you. You could hear him scoff beside you.

“The others still need a lift back home,” Steve retorted.

“Aw, Mama Harrington really cares about his little nuggets, doesn’t he?” you gave him a mocking pout, hand on your heart and eyes glimmering with mischief when he pulled his sunglasses off, eyes narrowed on you.

“Hey, only I can call them that!” Steve pointed at you before pausing. “And don’t tell them I call them that, either!”  

“Whatever, Harrington,” you sang.

You didn’t think twice about pushing the door open when you reached the Hellfire Club, expecting to see all of them crowded around the table, screaming and yelling at each other in excitement as they were reaching the end of their campaign.

Instead what you found was an empty room.

You blinked.

“What the fuck?”

Steve peered over your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed together when he noticed Eddie and the kids weren’t there. He shouldered past you, ignoring the small huff you let out when he did. He stood in the middle of the room, hands on his hips and a look of contemplation on his face.

“What? Your maternal senses tingling?” you deadpanned as you watched him turn around on the spot, as though the answer would just appear in front of him.

“They aren’t here,” he stated.

“Well done, Sherlock,” you clapped your hands.

“Okay, what is your issue—” But whatever Steve was going to say was quickly cut off when the door slammed shut behind you, both of you snapping your head around to see Dustin’s grinning face in the small window.

“Stop denying your love!”

You blanched. “Dustin, what the hell?”

“I am sick of watching you both run around in circles—” Dustin continued.

“What circles? Who’s running?” Steve muttered.

“—and this is the only way for you both to get your heads out your asses and admit how you feel. I mean, c’mon, everyone knows except you both so—”

“Dustin, let us out of here, right now,” you snapped at him, interrupting whatever monologue he had planned for this.

Dustin’s grin only grew. “No can do, Suzie’s lock cannot be opened before the timer is completed. My girl is a genius like that.”

“And how long does this timer have?” Steve asked, eyes narrowed on the younger Henderson.

“Only like…sixty-ish minutes.”

“Dustin—”

“See you in an hour!”

You didn’t have a chance to say anything else before you heard his trainers squeaking against the corridor floors as he ran off, now leaving the two of you trapped in the small room with no means of escaping for the next hour.

Letting out a huff, Steve fell back onto the seat near the head of the table—the throne you were pretty sure Dustin always talked about being scared to sit in, fearing what Eddie would do if any of them tried—with his hands behind his head and his legs kicked out.

But you couldn’t sit down.

Both hands wrapped around the handle of the door, you kept tugging as if the thing would suddenly open. You tried barging your shoulder against it a few times, though the movies made it look far easier than it seemed to be. And after you had been going at it for five minutes, Steve finally spoke up.

“Would you please give it a rest?” he let out a groan, leaning his head back as he stared up at the ceiling. “It’s obviously not going to open, what’s the point of trying?”

“A fourteen year old made this, how secure can it really be?” you retorted with a nervous scoff. “I mean sure, Suzie is a child genius and is rarely wrong and has actually proven many times before that she is always right—”

“Henderson,” Steve called out, frowning when you began to pace back and forth.

“—but even geniuses make mistakes, right? Like she can’t be right at everything, she has to slip up somehow. So maybe the lock will slip up, you know? Maybe if you just hit it enough times—”

“Henderson,” Steve tried again, sitting up in his seat as he noticed your hand movements becoming more frantic.

“—because being trapped in this room for longer than an hour is kinda freaking me out. Is it freaking you out? Because it should be freaking you out, like what happens if the door doesn’t even open at all at the end of the hour and we are trapped—”

“HENDERSON!”

Your words quickly died down, your chest moving up and down quickly and Steve noticed the small panicked look on your face when you finally turned to him. He was out of his seat less than a second later, making his way over to you and placing his hands on your shoulders to keep you grounded in one spot.

“Hey, hey, look at me,” Steve called out, bowing his head to catch your gaze. “We are gonna be fine, okay? We are gonna get out of here in an hour, nothing is gonna happen.”

You let out a shuddered breath. “But what if—”

“No what if’s, we will get out,” Steve assured you, giving your shoulders a soft squeeze. “And if the lock doesn’t work, then I will personally knock that door down since you were so shit at it.”

You rolled your eyes, but he could see the corners of your lips twitch up.

“You know,” Steve continued, feeling your body was still tense beneath his touch. “I never thought you’d be a rambler.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together. “What?”

“When you’re nervous,” he explained with a small grin. “You ramble and it’s adorable.”

You blinked, not quite expecting those words to leave his mouth. “Did you just call me adorable?”

“Uh,” Steve paused like he was thinking about it. “Yeah, yeah I did, Henderson.”

“I—” you looked up at Steve, the way his eyes were darting around your face and the room, never quite meeting your eyes. The way his tongue poked out to wet his lips, the way his hair was falling in front of his face but he never once moved his hands away from your shoulders to fix it. “Steve, is there some truth to Dustin’s words?”

His eyes snapped back to yours, lips parting a little and you couldn’t help but think how he looked as though he had been caught red-handed. Your heart was thumping in your chest as you waited for him to say something, as you waited for him to do something.

But ironically, time wasn’t on your side that day.

“Okay, small change of plans, we have to go! Like now!” Dustin’s voice sounded from the other side of the door, snapping you and Steve out of whatever trance you seemed to be lost in.

You quickly pulled away from him, turning around to hear a small amount of commotion from the other side of the door before a loud buzzing noise was heard. Seconds later, Dustin was practically tearing the door off the hinges with a frazzled look on his face.

“Why are you both just standing there? Let’s go!” he screamed, clapping his hands together as he started rambling about gates and demo-dogs and lightbulbs smashing but you truthfully couldn’t even bring yourself to listen.

Even as you were running out the school and packing everyone into your, Steve and Eddie’s cars, your mind kept thinking back to Steve and what the fuck he was about to say to you.

.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington fic #steve harrington one shot #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things one shot

[lilacliquors]

day eight: all i want for christmas is you

pairing: matt murdock x reader

word count: 614

notes: here's day eight! it's short and out incredibly late because things have been crazy lately, but i wanted to get this out because writing fluff kind of helps. anyways, as always, reblogs, comments, and asks are highly recommended, and likes are appreciated. enjoy <3

christmas in new york was a special time of year. bright lights were strung up around your apartment building, and snow drifted through the air as bundled up new yorkers hurried along the sidewalks. there was just one thing missing, and that was your boyfriend, matt murdock. he’d gone off to the west coast for another high profile case, and even when he left, he wasn’t sure if he would be back in time for the holidays. flights this time of year were difficult to get, and while he did make sure you call you as often as he could, you knew he was busy, and these west coast cases were good money for him, especially when he did so much pro bono work back home.

as the countdown to christmas got shorter and shorter, and matt still wasn’t sure if he’d be home on time, you decided to busy yourself by decorating the apartment you shared. and for company, you gave foggy a call, and he was more than happy to stop by. so you two began to decorate your apartment, with cheerful holiday music on in the background.

“oh, there she is,” he said as the next song started up. mariah carey, the queen of christmas, had finally popped up on the playlist. you didn’t mind the song, but for some reason, it made you think of matt. because he was all you wanted for christmas. you wanted him all to yourself, with no work to distract him. there was nothing else that would make you happier.

“you okay over there?” foggy asked, snapping his fingers at you. “you’re zoned out.”

“yeah, just missing matt, that’s all,” you said.

“me too. feels weird with him gone,” he agreed.

“super weird.”

that night, you sat in the now warm glow of the lights hung in your apartment, listening to the sound of kids laughing as they played out in the snow. you smiled and sipped your hot cocoa, when all of a sudden, you heard keys jingling in the doorway. your ears perked up, you set your mug down, and you adjusted in your seat to watch the door swing open.

“i’m home,” matt said, and you could just hear the smile in his voice. you got up from your chair and made your way over, holding out your hand for him to feel before you hugged him tightly. he wrapped his arms around you and held you close, and you felt warm all over.

“i’m so glad you made it,” you said, and he kissed the top of your head.

“well, all i wanted for christmas was to come be with you, and a few friends made it possible. and they don’t need me back out there until after the new year anyways, so what luck, huh?” he chuckled, and you leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“what luck indeed. come on, i’ll make you some hot cocoa and you can tell me about california,” you said, going to grab his bag from the hall.

“i’d love nothing more. and … it feels different in here. like, it feels off.”

“oh, foggy and i decorated the place. it was gloomy without you here.”

“i’m sure you guys did a great job. it’ll take some getting used to, i can hear the hum of the lights, but it’s only for a short while,” he said.

“yeah, but if they bother you, just let me know and i’ll fix it up somehow.”

“it’s fine, i promise. because all i want for christmas, now, is for you to be happy.”

“well, i am. because now you’re home. and all i wanted for christmas was you.”

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock imagine #daredevil x reader #daredevil fluff #daredevil #matt murdock ficmas #12 days of ficmas #atomwritez ficmas

[epithet-beloved]

CALIFORNIA SLIM + ALCATRAZ HALLOWEEN HEADCANONS

synopsis… You celebrate Halloween with your favorite ghost! And Slim is there too, I guess.

ft. California Slim, Alcatraz

tags… anime campaign, Halloween shenanigans, can be read as platonic or romantic, banter (with Slim), Alcatraz in a dress because I said so, no spoilers but there’s a sneaky reference to something if you squint

word count… 831

a/n… Hello everyone! Hopefully I’ll be able to get around to some requests soon, but for now I wanted to provide you all with a special Halloween treat! ✧ 🦄

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Slim always just goes as himself. Never dresses up.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It’s great for him because it’s the one day of the year he can walk around in public without getting arrested.

You resisted rolling your eyes as yet another person commented on the “accuracy” of the man’s California Slim “costume”.

“You hear that?” He turned to you, grin wider than ever. “They praised my attention to detail. Got the mouth scar makeup juuuust right.” He would drag his finger over said scar to emphasize, only to burst out into laughter afterwards. “You should take a page from their book and appreciate my genius for once.”

“You mean your laziness? Keep dreaming.” Despite your sarcasm, you were smiling too.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Alcatraz, however. He HAS to dress up every year and Slim hates it.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Alcatraz enjoys wearing dresses and I will spout this propaganda until the end of time. This year he insisted on being Cinderella, and you wanted to support him, so you decided to try and match the theme somehow. Whether you dress as Prince Charming, or just throw on a pair of mouse ears and call it a day, he’s so happy that you want to participate!

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 It’s a whole new kind of difficult to get this clunky set of armor into an extra large costume, but it’s worth it to see him admire himself in the mirror.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Slim mostly just whines and complains about Alcatraz and his childish costume ruining his “vibe”. But you retort that it helps him blend in better on Halloween, and he doesn’t bother to retort since as long as he’s getting candy he doesn’t care.

“Did we really have to bring him?”

Before you could even snap back at him, Al piped up politely. “Well, you can’t really help it anyway, so—“

“Wasn’t asking you.” Seeing that bantering with the ghost would get him nowhere as usual, Slim would instead sidle up to you and eye your pillowcase full of goodies with interest.

“Got any peanut brittle in there? Since you probably don’t want it anyway, I’ll just be a kind soul and take it off your hands ever so generously—“

“Hey! Don’t touch my stuff!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 My personal belief is that Slim is an absolute fiend for peanut butter. Especially peanut butter/chocolate combos. Stuff like Buckeyes especially are favorites.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Al can’t really eat candy, per se, but you can slot some skittles into his helmet and he’s just happy to be participating.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Conversely, if you’re giving out candy, do. Not. Let Slim do it. Just don’t

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He will scare the hell out of those poor kids, whether intentionally or unintentionally. Usually the former, though.

“Slim! Stop doing that!”

“What? They knocked on the door. They were asking for it.” Even as the potential trick or treaters ran in terror, he still had that shit eating grin plastered across his face like a decal. “You don’t actually wanna give all this candy away anyway, do you?”

“Yes I do, it’s called being nice. I am aware that you are unfamiliar, but at least try to get into a holiday spirit?”

And yet the actual murderer remained apathetic, rolling his (candy) cigarette between his fingers. “Hey, it’s called trick OR treat. Didn’t say it had to be treat.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Al is a delight, though. As long as you keep Slim in check, he loves being able to interact with the trick or treaters. He gets a range of compliments, from one kid telling him how cool it is that he was a knight and a princess at the same time, and even a little girl in a princess costume telling him they were matching. You’re pretty sure it made his entire year.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 After the trick or treating hours are over, you and Slim stay up super late on a movie marathon. He insists on criticizing all the slasher movies and pointing out the inaccuracy of the gore.

“There’s no way her arm would get cut clean off like that! You’d need a bone saw or something, not some wimpy scythe!”

You were quite used to your companion’s morbid musings, but that didn’t mean you had to like them. “Quit it, I’m trying to pay attention.”

“I mean, what kind of serial murderer even uses a scythe? Cosplaying as a reaper is not an excuse for inefficiency.”

“You are constantly dressing for a period piece and use a bat.”

“Hey, don’t you talk that way about Hollywood. She gets the job done!”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 He also eggs people’s houses. Mostly because he just doesn’t like them, but also for no reason at all. He just likes throwing eggs at the innocent and unsuspecting. Does some TP’ing too.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Wanted to egg his old boss’s house, but he ended up falling asleep on your shoulder. Plus, he doesn’t even remember who the guy is or where he lives, so all’s well that ends well.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 Just make sure you wake up before him, or you might find your Halloween stash to be seriously diminished.

#🦄’s writings #California slim #california slim imagines #california slim x reader #alctaraz anime campaign #anime campaign alcatraz x reader #anime campaign alcatraz imagines #anime campaign

[ashotofwhiskeyy]

Untitled 2yeon AU

The one where Nayeon parts ways with Twice weeks after their debut and moves away, leaving behind her members with a lot of questions and a heartbroken Jeongyeon.

Nayeon's eyes scanned the different types of snacks, trying to remember the ones her sister likes, she glanced to the toddler on her left every few seconds, keeping an eye on him while he examined all the cereals he could see with his small stature.

"Nayeon?" a voice called, one she hadn't heard in years, but she was able to recognize immediately.

"Jihyo." She answered before turning and coming face to face with her.

"How long have you been back in Korea?" was the first thing she asked.

"I um... we just arrived... a couple of days ago." Nayeon said, oddly nervous. Are other members here? "How... How have you been?"

"Good, I've been good." Jihyo looked deep into Nayeon's eyes and didn't waste any time to ask what's been bothering all these years. "What happened, unnie? You just disappeared, no explanation, nothing, it's been what, four years? And not a word from you." Her eyes and voice turned soft. "I missed you. We all miss you."

"I missed you guys too." Nayeon didn't really know what else to say. "It's, uh, actually been around three years.

"Are you back? for good?"

"I'm not sure yet, there's some stuff I-" Nayeon was interrupted by little footsteps.

"Mama, mama!" A little boy came running and held onto Nayeon's leg, struggling to show her a big cereal box.

Nayeon was frozen for a second before shifting her attention to him "Is this the one you want? Good job, baby!" She ruffled his hair causing him to giggle and picked him up so he was eye level with both adults. "Hey, I'd like you to meet someone, this is Jihyo. And Jihyo, this is my son."

Jihyo looked at Nayeon and back at the boy, the older girl could see the shock on Jihyo's face as she processed the new information, however she snapped out of it quickly and spoke to the kid with excitement.

"Hi, it's nice to meet you! What's your name?"

The boy hid his face in Nayeon's neck, still holding the cereal box tightly.

"J.. hyu..." came some muffled sounds.

"Jaehyun! That's your name, isn't it?" Nayeon encouraged him but he simply gave a small nod.

"That's such a cool name!"

"Thanks. " He peeked with one eye and finally looked at Jihyo, who took the chance to ask another question.

"How old are you, Jaehyun?"

The boy said nothing and looked at Nayeon.

"Can you tell her how old you are?"

"-'m woo. " his voice still came out muffled.

"Show her with your fingers. " Nayeon used one of her hands to take the box out of his.

Jaehyun understood and lifted up three small fingers.

"You're still two, buddy, put one finger down." Nayeon gave Jihyo a quick glance and said in a lower voice. "We're still working on that."

He did as he was told and proudly exclaimed "Am two!"

"Woah! two? that's awesome!"

Quick footsteps where soon heard approaching them, and both girls looked in the direction of the sounds.

"Yah! We're about to leave, what's taking you-" Jeongyeon stopped in her tracks, dropping the pack of candies in her hand.

She opened and closed her mouth like a fish before managing to get out a weak "N-nayeon".

"Jeongyeon." was all Nayeon said in return, she didn't trust herself to speak without her voice cracking or tears falling.

"Hi." the toddler spoke and Jeongyeon was instantly very aware of his presence.

"Hello." she said back to him.

An uncomfortable silence enveloped them and Jihyo spoke after a few seconds to break it "Jeongyeon! This is Jaehyun, isn't that a cool name?" she said trying to ease the sudden tension.

Jeongyeon blinked a couple of times, switching her focus between the three pair of eyes staring at her, one nostalgic, one worried and one curious.

"Y-yeah, that's... great."

"I should get going, we got a long list of items to go through" Nayeon threw the cereal box on her cart and placed her son on the kids seat. "Sorry for taking so much of your time." she excused herself and left to another aisle before any of them could even say a proper goodbye.

As she walked away she could feel a thousand emotions going through her, but she was in public, with her son, and she wasn't lying when she said she had a lot of stuff to buy, there was no time to have a breakdown, she could do that later.

"Nayeon! Wait!"

She hesitantly stopped and waited for the younger girl to reach her.

"Yes?"

Jihyo gently touched her arm, making her turn around.

"Can I have your number? I'd like to see you again, catch up, and I know the girls would too, specially Jeongyeon."

Nayeon bit her lip, she knew this was probably a bad idea.

"Sure." She accepted the phone Jihyo handed over, and saved her recently acquired number under 'Nayeonie <3', she couldn't help herself, her former leader always gave her a sense of familiarity, having basically grown up together, along with Jeongyeon. "There you go."

Jihyo took the phone back and typed something, a second later, Nayeon felt her own phone vibrate in her pocket.

"Seriously?" she asked.

"I have to make sure, sorry." She shrugged and offered a small smile.

"No, it's fine, I get it." she laughed and took her phone out, saving Jihyo's number and showing her the screen. "There, saved yours too."

"I'll be calling you, okay?"

"And I'll be waiting, Ji"

"I'll leave you both to your shopping now, take care yeah?" Nayeon saw her doubt for a second before the younger hugged her.

"You too." She hugged the girl back, emotions almost drowning her. "It was nice seeing you, by the way."

Jihyo let go and looked at the toddler sitting on the cart, sucking on his thumb.

"Bye, have fun!" she waved at him.

"Bye-bye!" he waved back with a big smile showing off small yet noticeable bunny teeth.

Jihyo walked away and Nayeon was left again only with her son.

Yup, this had definitely been a bad idea. She was hoping to cross paths with her ex members, but this was too soon. Would they even want to ser her again? What if they hated her?

And Jeongyeon... jesus christ, seeing her after all those years... something inside Nayeon told her to run, escape again, change her number and make sure no one's able to reach her or even know of her whereabouts.

But she has to face them someday, face her ex members, face her baby's father, and face her, face Jeongyeon.

#2yeon #Nayeon #Jeongyeon #NaJeong #Twice #twice fanfic #twice au #im nayeon #yoo jeongyeon #this is just a fragment of the story #but i'm probably never going to finish it so

[thevampirediariesuniverse-1864]

Bucky x bullied reader | warning : age gap slefharm bulling eating disorder

Your yn stark . Tony’s only daughter . You were define not a small girl . You were very tall , about 5”10 and had broad shoulders and big muscled legs . You were naturally a very intimidating person .Your waist was your only problem. You hated it . More than anything in the world you would stare at the mirror and look at yourself dog cussing every imperfection and calling your self names you wouldn’t call the devil .

When you started bullied . Every day names such as “ trans bitch “ “ man !!” “Ugly !” “Fat bitch !” ( not trying to be hurtful anyone ) it kept getting harder to deal with just constantly every day . You became depressed . And you learned to mask it , just fake it till you make it right ? But what if i don’t make it ?? U thought . You stared to push yourself to eat less and every time you would give in and eat you would end up crying for hours and feeling bad for days The bulling eventually got bad enough that you resorted to cutting yourself . . But you weren’t stupid . You really didn’t want to get caught doing this you didn’t want ANYONE to see or find out , who knows what they would do . So u cut right under your breasts . A place no one would look ever . The only way they would find out is if you showed them .

And you continued to cut . Every insult worse than the last . Chipping prices at you . It was hardest to hide around Steve . Not because he was per say smart about that kinda stuff but he went through bulling , u knew he would understand or mabey he would be scared of you because he would think your crazey . Those thoughts also began to take root . Mabey the avengers don’t like me … I am fat … and the most useless one on the team .

Soon u began to isolate yourself from the team scared that they hated you . U didn’t want to bother them . Ur dad tried so hard to talk to you but every time he got the same answers ( no dad I’m fine really I’m fine , no nothing is wrong ) but one day Steve’s friend came to join the compound . His name was Bucky . He instantly was drawn to you . Like he could sense your pain too and you know the saying misery loves company . Tony noticed you talked to Bucky , he saw you smile for the first time in months . He decided to ask Bucky if he could try and ask what’s bothering you to help you ,

And so that’s what he did . Bucky agreed to it . Soon after talking over coffee Bucky asked ( you seem sad can you talk to me ) you hugged and decided someone needed to to know . He would help you right ? ( I’ve been bullied all year for my size and I started cutting and then I started feeling like if everyone at school hated me then everyone here must too … I mean face it I’m the ugly fat tag along .. coaches kid ) Bucky eyes were watering

( can I see ?) he said as a tear fell from his cheek you said ( ok but don’t freak out and don’t ! Tell anyone , this is between u and me . Especially dad ) u lifted your shirt up only high enough to reveal your cuts . Bucky cried even more ( your just a kid !) he croaked out as u stood there stone faced . As he dragged his fingers along the fresh and old cuts littering you chest .

Bucky fell to his knees and just hugged you . He didn’t know what to do . But hug you . And you stroked his hair and he cried . ( please don’t cry , it’s ok , I’m not worth it ) Bucky snapped up , ( no ! Ur worth every single thing in this world ! Ur so kind the only one beside Steve who was truly my friend! U took care of me when I needed u . Listen to my troubles with compassion and you are truly beautiful beyond compare ! ) you just stood there . Blushing a bit .

Bucky sternly said ( I need names , doll . I’m going to fix this and we are going to get you the help you need) you quickly said ( no ! I’m not crazey ! I don’t need help ! Your going to ship me away or send me to some jerk therapist who think’s I’m broken ! And your gonna tell dad ! I should’ve known ! )

Bucky quickly said ( no no no doll ! You can tell your dad on your time , but I want you to see a therapist mabey just once a week , talk about it to someone .. I have to go to therapy ) you say ( yeah because u have trama , you have hurt and pain that no one came even imagine !) Bucky says ( yeah so do you ! Ur a teenager ! And you have to deal with that shit alone ! And you care so much for others that you hide away so they can be happy and not worry about you and isolate yourself in case ur making them sad !)

Bucky continue ( ur so strong ! And I .. I love you so much , doll I’m in love with you and I will help you even if it mean destroying taht school and every one in it !) that’s when you hear it steve comes around the corner eyes red and puffy watery ( yn , sweetie why didn’t you tell me !I would have understood! Your not a burden ! We all love you so much ! And all we want is for you to be happy , but you dad dose have to know about this ) you say ( Steve please no !he can’t know !!) he says ( I’m sorry sweetie, ) you cry out loudly ( nooo !!!! Pleeease !!! No !) you grab his arm . Trying to keep him from going to tony .

( yn , doll it for the best ) as you turn to Bucky as he engulfs you in a big bear hug . When you look up at him he’s looking down at you . When he dose it . He kisses you . His arms wrapping around you holding you close around your waist as your around his neck .for now to heck with life and it’s problems you were happy .

Till tony came into the room ( kitchen ) ( yn , baby tell me it’s not true .. my precious baby girl ) you just look away u can’t meet his eyes . You stare at the floor as tony takes you from buckys arms , Bucky want to growl and snatch you back but holds it together .

Bucky later asks you ( doll , I … I want you to be my girlfriend.. will you ? ) you shout (yess!!) as you jump into his arms , after that he’s sooo overprotective of you you are his and his alone no one will ever harm his doll

After everything you just went through tony and Steve and Bucky all decide they need to talk to the school then tony plans on suing them . But that day in class your class was watching a movie on the winter soilder and captain America . All the class said winter soilder was so cool and bad ass . All the girls said he was sooo hot . All the people who were so so so mean to you . This was your chance . Your revenge .

You said to the girls ( I know right he is hot , and he s my boyfriend) the girls said ( no he not !) ( he would never date an ugly pig ) ( yeah like Sirius he wants a hot body not a fat one ) (he is my boyfriend!) u say . ( prove it !) they say so sur in them selves ( ok )

You pull out you phone calling Bucky . ( hey Bucky I need you you to come to my school please )

Bucky says ( I’m on my way )

He comes into your class room . You see him and smile . All the girls are squealing ( hiii !!! Omg !! Ur so hot !) ( I love you !!) ( you wannna go out with me ?!) Bucky says ( no I’m here for my girl , come one doll grab your bag we’re going to go see me stark ) whispers arouse from teh class ( me stark ?) (like the tony stark ) ( why thou ?! Why her ?)

You say ( ok I can’t wait to see dad !) the whole clas screams ( DAD !!!) Bucky says ( go wait for me in the “expensive car “ , I’ll be right out) you go and do ad he says

He says to the class ( hello , I’m James Barnes , formally known as winter soilder , and that sweet girl you torment everyday is my girlfriend and tony Starla daughter , and she cares about you all so much that she refuses to give us teh names of teh people who bully her !! It makes me so mad that you can do that to a person who will always have your back no matter what you do to them !, good bye ) and he walks out

,

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the avengers

[spell-cleaver]

Day 2: Crack in the Mirror

(Also Day 15: Drugged)

@angstober​

“Han, leave me alone,” Leia snapped. He did not, in fact, leave her alone. He had longer legs than her and they dogged her down the hallways of Echo Base, keeping pace with her easily.

“When was the last time you slept, Your Highnessness? Last I checked, weren’t you telling the kid that—”

“It’s none of your business, that’s when.” She stopped, whirled around, and jabbed her finger in his face. “Don’t you have supplies to shift? Why are you following me?”

Han swerved back at the finger in his face, like it was a striking snake. He stared down at her with a look of offence. “Why am I following you?” he repeated. “You know, I don’t get paid for this stuff with the Rebellion—”

“You do—”

“Not enough, that’s for sure. Not for dealing with you!”

“Then don’t feel obliged to deal with me,” she said calmly, stepping around him and back towards her quarters. She blinked, realised she’d tracked down the wrong corridor—they did all look the same, under the snow—and backed up to choose the right one.

“Don’t you know where your quarters are?” Han called after her. An officer carrying comms tech pushed past him.

Leia rolled her eyes and didn’t answer.

“It’s been two weeks since we got here! When was the last time you used them?”

She rolled her eyes again. So, that was what this was about. She used her quarters every night. They were a good, quiet place to look over reports, without people bothering her about her overworking herself.

Han was behind her again, reaching for her hand. She shook him off. “What do you want?”

He pursed his lips, glowering at her. “Luke’s worried about you,” he said. “Hell, Chewie’s worried about you.”

“Chewie worries about everyone,” she retorted. “He’s as bad as Threepio.”

“Aw, don’t be mean. Besides, Luke doesn’t. He asked me to talk to you.”

“No, he didn’t.” Luke and Leia were close enough that he’d talk to her himself. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Don’t you wanna talk to your friends, Princess? What—”

She reached the door to her room and took great pleasure in jabbing the lock button so hard that snow cascaded onto the floor. She rubbed her gloved hands together, hissing.

Good. Now that he was out of the way…

She stumbled to the tiny corner of her room that served as a refresher and clutched the edge of the sink. In the mirror above it, which was old enough that several cracks and one missing chunk of glass distorted her reflection, she looked pale and tired. As white as her snow gear and the snow around her. The braid that looped her head was starting to come undone—when had she last done that? It must’ve been last night.

There wasn’t much time to spare on her appearance with all those probe droids Vader had launched to look for them, but it was important to look put together and in control. It was good for the soldiers’ moral. So, she lifted her hands to undo and redo it, tugging her gloves off her hands and taking her frost-dusted hairs between her fingers. Just reaching up like that made her feel dizzy.

She shook her head, but that didn’t clear it. It made her dizzier. She sat down on her bed for a moment, taking in a breath. When she opened her eyes to glance in the mirror again, she looked even worse.

No matter. There was a simple solution. She reached for the draw where she kept a hypospray and equipped it with a new needle.

A sharp knock rapped at the door. She groaned. “Han, I told you to—”

“It’s not Han.”

Luke did sound genuinely worried. She hesitated, then sighed, put the hypospray down at the desk, and went to answer the door. Luke was as reckless and interfering as Han, but at least he was sweet. And not nearly as frustrating.

“May I come in?” he asked when she did. Again, she hesitated, but let him in.

“I’m just getting changed before that meeting briefing all the squadrons,” she said. “I wanted to redo my hair—”

“I can tell,” he said gently, nodding at her hair. She smiled tightly. “Would you like some help?” He looked right through her.

It was incredibly intimate in Alderaanian culture for someone to take care of your hair, but Leia and Luke had done it to each other before. She trusted him. So, she nodded, handed him her hairbrush, and sat down on the bed as he sat behind her.

The rhythmic motion of the brush was soothing; several times, she noticed her chin tipping forwards, and had to gasp herself awake. Luke didn’t comment on it. She had taught him quite a few of her hairstyles, but he didn’t put in the one she’d been wearing around Hoth. He braided her hair into less practical, less severe plaits, two hanging down on either side of her head and looping into a bun at her back.

When he finished, she frowned, tilting her head. They bounced against her neck—not annoyingly, but it’d be distracting if she was trying to focus.

Then, to her horror, Luke glanced at the hypospray and asked what Han had asked, but far more quietly: “When was the last time you slept?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Han put you up to this.”

“We came to the same conclusion separately and conspired together about it. Chewie’s also in on it. As are the droids.”

“Threepio betrayed me?”

“Threepio has been fussing for months. When was the last time you slept?” He nodded at the hypo. “There’s only so long you can force yourself to stay awake.”

“Dreams aren’t friendly, Luke,” she said. “It’s like…”

“I know.”

She paused. “You do?”

He swallowed. “It’s like you’re frozen in place, watching it all happen again. I’m standing watching their skeletons burn. I can’t imagine what it must be for you. There’s so many who have died in the war. I can’t forget any of their faces.”

“Exactly,” she got out. She finally let herself close her eyes, then opened them again, forcing her tone to harden. “I have to be strong and on high alert. If I fail as their leader, countless lives on this base are lost. I can’t afford to let nightmares unbalance me when we are all already unbalanced. And I can’t afford to look anything less than prepared and ready to defeat the Empire. Otherwise, they’ll lose faith.”

“We’ve all been there, Leia,” Luke said. “We won’t.”

“The image of a strong leader is vital.”

“The reality of a strong leader is more vital. If you aren’t operating at your best because you deny yourself essential things, you risk our lives all the more.”

Leia narrowed her eyes at him. “Where did you get that from?”

Luke smirked. “General Rieekan and Senator Mothma are also a part of the conspiracy.”

“Then why did they choose you for spokesperson? General Rieekan and Mon could just order me to sleep.”

“You’re famously rebellious,” Luke drawled. Leia had to laugh. “I’m less threatening.”

“You’re more annoying, I think.”

“It’s still working.”

She closed her eyes. “And Han?”

“Does his own thing. But he’s right too. You need to let yourself rest. We can handle the slack in the meantime—you don’t have to avenge Alderaan all on your own.”

“Alright,” she said. “Alright. I will. We just need to make that meeting with the other squadrons, then—”

“It’s already started,” Luke said. Leia gaped at him. “I told you Rieekan was in on it. Wedge is attending for Rogue Squadron.”

“Then we need to hurry—”

“You don’t have to be there, Leia,” Luke soothed. “Would it be better if you were there, or better if you let yourself recuperate, so you can give your best work tomorrow?”

She deflated. It conflicted with the iron core at her heart, like a knife glancing off a knife sharpener, but she had to admit he was right. And… it was nice to be looked after. Sometimes. When they weren’t obnoxiously fussy.

But even then. Her parents weren’t around to be obnoxiously fussy anymore. She missed it.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked. She hated how weak her voice was. It was like she was willingly taking a hammer to the façade she fought so hard to maintain.

But no façade of hers had ever fooled Luke, anyway. Nor Han, but that was something else to think about.

“Of course,” he said.

While she slept, Luke resting quietly in her chair, Han hovered outside the door to her room. He didn’t dare enter or try to approach her, but he did quietly turn anyone who would disturb them away.

#angstober #leia organa #han solo #luke skywalker #space twins #my writing #random words on a page

[separatist-apologist]

The Kids Aren't Alright

And in the end, I'd do it all again. I think you're my best friend

Summary: Set twenty-eight years after Call It What You Want To, Day Court Prince and Princess Ivy and Soren Spell-Cleaver are left to deal with consequences of their parents decisions.

Note: ACOTAR next-gen. Every odd chapter is Ivy, every even is Soren.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | AO3

Chapter 4: SOREN

“If you two don’t knock it off,” Soren hissed through his teeth, staring Sage and Sierra down, “I am going to make you both regret it.”

Sage jutted out her bottom lip.

“She started it.”

Sierra’s palms shot out, shoving Sage off the edge of the pool directly into it with a high-pitched, “You’re such a liar! A baby and a liar!”

“Cauldron boil me,” Soren grumbled. He yanked off the jacket his mother insisted he wear despite the absolute stifling heat and tossed it to one of the chairs lining the side of the water his sister was now flailing in, pretending she didn’t know how to swim.

“I’m telling your mother about this,” Soren warned. Sierra crossed her arms over her chest, green eyes flashing.

“She won’t care. She says Sage is spoiled and could use a little grit.”

Fucking Aunt Arina and her loud ass mouth. Two days. He merely needed to get through two more days and then he’d be freed of his cousins, of the other six courts, and the absolute chaos that had overtaken his life. As Soren dragged a screaming, writhing Sage from the pool, he found himself strangely resentful of the week.

It was supposed to be Ivy dealing with a snapping mating bond. Not him. And it was supposed to be Ivy who chafed, who worked through her complicated feelings. Not Soren. Soren was supposed to find himself in the city every single night, drowning any trouble he had in pussy and wine. 

His mate was…not what he expected. She liked poison—not because she liked plants, but because she liked antidotes. If she liked anything else, Mei hadn’t said. She barely spoke to him at all, forcing Soren to hold whole conversations by himself while she watched him with unguarded suspicion.

It was weighing on him. His father wanted to discuss his own mating bond and how he and his mother had managed to overcome those barriers but fuck. His mother had been a human female shoved in a magical piece of cookware. She’d been young, traumatized. Gifted a mate when she didn’t know what it meant to be faerie. Soren didn’t blame her for needing a minute to figure it all out, and as far as he knew, neither had his father.

Mei wasn’t his mother. Mei had been born faerie and knew what a mating bond meant. Soren had no hope she’d accept it, and maybe selfishly, he almost hoped she wouldn’t.

That wasn’t entirely true. He wanted her to talk to him. He wanted to know if she was worth going to bed alone two nights alone. If she was worth trying over and over while she offered him nothing but the scent of her fear and uncertainty. 

He rubbed at his jaw as he tossed Sage to the blue tiled patio. “Go change your clothes before father sees,” he ordered, rounding on Sierra. 

“If I catch you putting your hands on anyone again, there will be hell to pay. Do you hear me?”

She opened her mouth to argue but Soren crouched. He was the fun one. The laid back one. If it had been Ivy with her finger in Sierra’s face, the girl wouldn’t have dared to offer a rebuttal. Ivy was busy, their fathers shadow like she always was in these functions. There wasn’t usually so much chaos, he reflected. The kids were getting older and testing out their court loyalties and their magic and they did it on each other. 

“Or what?” Sierra dared to ask.

Soren leaned closer. “I'll tell you the date of your daddy’s death,” he hissed. It was a lie—Soren would never be so cruel. But Sierra’s eyes widened, the threat enough to put her back in line.

That was all he wanted.

Sierra scampered away, leaving Soren alone in the afternoon sun, shirtless and in pants, of all fucking things. He grabbed his jacket angrily, striding into the palace without bothering to put it back on. Who cared if he was bare chested? He’d been born naked, hadn’t he? He intended to die naked, too.

“Soren?”

He froze in his tracks. That same urge from the day he’d first seen Mei flared in his chest. Soren had to physically swallow in order to turn around and look at her. And fuck him, but Mei was still the most beautiful female he’d ever seen in his entire life. Mate or not, he was certain he’d have been panting after her had he ever seen her before. 

“Mei,” he breathed, regretting his lack of jacket. He’d let his mom talk him into it when she’d sworn up and down a nice girl like Mei would want to see he could dress like a gentleman. He immediately slung it over his shoulders, trying to pretend he didn’t want her to see him half naked like this. 

He could dress better if he had any sense of what she liked. Mei didn’t wear dresses—well-fitted pants and a pretty pastel shirt were her typical uniform. He liked it, though he didn’t dare tell her. Her long, dark hair hung in a silken sheet down her back and her pretty face was make-up less and glowing. He wondered if she even knew how lovely she was. 

“You look…” she bit her bottom lip.

“Devilishly handsome?”

“Upset,” she disagreed. Ah.

“Just…my younger sister is difficult,” he confided. “Ten is a tough age.”

The metal hand clicked softly and like always, he wondered how she’d gotten it. Soren didn’t dare ask her. He knew his fathers was a source of insecurity and he guessed it might be the same for Mei. He wanted to know.

Soren wanted to know everything when it came to Mei. 

Tell me why me. Why you? Why us? 

“She was soaking wet,” Mei murmured, not coming an inch closer. He took that step, his fingers on the golden buttons of his jacket.

“Sierra shoved her in the pool.”

Mei’s eyes widened. “Why?”

“She says Sage lied about their argument. She’s probably right. Sierra’s not one to downplay her own mischief.”

“And Sage would?”

Soren exhaled softly. “Sage grew up in Ivy’s very long shadow. I think she doesn’t know where she fits…or how. So she acts out for attention and she tries to make herself seem sweet and soft and innocent.”

“But she’s not?”

“She’s a Spell-Cleaver,” he replied, adjusting the cuffs of his jacket casually. Like this conversation was of no importance to him. “And an Archeron. She is none of those things.”

“Oh,” Mei whispered. Soren swallowed his urge to snatch her, throw her over his shoulder, and tie her to his bed until she told him what she was thinking. He knew how this went. Oh meant conversation over. It meant Mei scurried off and he wouldn’t see her until one of them bumped into the other again. Courting her would have been easier if she’d let him court her. She retreated behind Thesan, who watched him with open suspicion that almost bordered on hatred. She was just barely fulfilling their end of the bargain and he resented that, too. 

“Soren?” she said, catching him off guard. “Will you do something for me?”

And stupidly, Soren replied, “Anything.”

Her eyebrows shot upwards. “Can I poison you?”

Of all the things he’d expected to hear her say, that sentence was not one of them. Breathlessly, he replied, “What?”

“If my anti-dote doesn’t work, I have a vial of healing elixir—” blood, she was talking about blood— “So there’s no true danger.”

A wise male would have told her no. Would have said this was a stupid plan. Mei didn’t know how reckless he could be, how foolish and impulsive he often was. She wanted to poison him? All Soren heard was she wanted to spend time with him. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, catching how her face radiated like sunlight after a storm. She smiled, nearly driving him to his knees. Did he miss fucking other females? Had he been resentful he was forced at her side? All that vanished in the wake of her obvious delight.

He’d pleased his mate. 

“Come with me.”

Stupid, stupid Soren.

He would have gone anywhere with her. 

MEI:

Soren Spell-Cleaver was in her bedroom. Mei still had the image of his chiseled, naked chest burned behind her eyelids as she led him in. His russet eyes swept the room curiously, but she’d barely unpacked. She was still trying to keep herself from turning on her heel and throwing herself into his arms. She’d heard the rumors about him. 

His reputation with females. 

He made her nervous. Not just because he was so absurdly handsome it made her body ache with want, but because at some point he was going to realize what a lousy hand he’d been dealt. Mei had spent the last few days watching the way females watched him. She’d listened to how they spoke of him, had seen their disdain when they realized he was stuck with her. Soren was too blinded by the mating bond to realize that Day Court’s prince should have been gifted a princess. Someone bright and lovely and effortlessly easy.

She was none of those things. They urge to shove him out of the room washed over her. He was going to figure her out. Mei dreaded that more than anything. It wouldn’t be her who rejected him but the other way around. 

He smiled when he realized she was staring. Color flooded her cheeks and Mei dipped her head, embarrassed. 

“Where do you want me?” he asked, his voice far too suggestive.

“Right here,” she managed, gesturing toward a chair by the open window. Soren strutted towards it, his eyes burning against her skin. He was so easy, so casual as he dropped into the chair.

“Do your worst,” he offered, so obviously hopeful.

Mei nodded, walking to her work table for the spray she’d created. “I know Spring Court thinks it must be faebane,” she began, shaking up the little bottle in her hand. His eyes fell on her golden hand, his amusement sliding into something darker. Something almost angry. She wondered if Thesan had told him, or if he had merely guessed it must have been violence.

Maybe the sight of it disgusts him.

“You don’t?” he questioned curiously. Mei wrinkled her nose.

“Would faebane stop you if you’re children were being threatened with fire?” she asked without thinking. A feral edge slid over his features, those eyes tracking her every breath. 

“No,” he whispered.

Mei swallowed hard.

“We’re still stronger, still faster,” she continued, trying so hard to keep her tone light when his scent had so obviously shifted. “Even if you didn’t want to fight, you could still flee.”

The look on his face told Mei Soren would fight. Looking over his body, even covered in more clothes than she was accustomed to, he had the look of a warrior. She’d heard a rumor he trained with the Illyrians, though if that was true or not, she didn’t know. Didn’t dare ask, either. 

“So what is this?” he asked warily.

“Just faebane aerosolized,” she replied before spraying four spritzes in his handsome face. Soren gagged, coughing loudly against the invasion. She didn’t risk warning him and letting him hold his breath. That would knock his magic out for the rest of the day—maybe even the next, too. 

Soren looked up at her with wild eyes, gripping the edge of the chair hard enough the wood groaned beneath his fingers. 

Mei just needed to see if it would keep him down. 

“I’m thinking of reject—” she didn’t even get the words out before he was on his feet, pushing her up against the far wall with a speed that even she struggled to track. Soren ran his nose up her neck, inhaling roughly.

“Don’t,” he whispered, releasing her when he realized what he’d done. “Please.”

She looked up at him, eyes lingering on his full mouth. “Imagine if I’d been human,” she whispered, feeling only a little bad at the manipulation. “If I was a human threatening your family.” He took several stumbling steps backwards, running his hand through his thick curls. Soren stared, his horror at being told she might reject rapidly shifting. She braced herself for his anger, unprepared for what she’d actually see. Hurt. His whole expression crumpled when he realized she’d pulled that little string to manipulate him into coming after her. 

She didn’t understand him. He’d been so feral when they’d first met and Mei had just assumed…Soren nodded his head, eyes glazing over.

“Glad I could help,” he said, clearing his throat. She felt awful. She’d hurt him. It had never crossed her mind that Soren was the sort of person who could be hurt. Not by her, anyway. 

“I have an antidote,” she told him softly, unable to just say sorry. It felt all wrong in her mouth, besides. Soren remained silent as she crossed the room again, reaching for her tablet. Pacing back to him, heart pounding, Mei wondered if this counted as feeding him. She didn’t dare risk it and instead set it on a side table.

More hurt ghosted his expression, blinked away just like before. He took it, sliding it against his tongue while she watched. Wishing it had been her who’d done it. He shuddered–the taste was disgusting–before turning his hot gaze back against her.

“I’m sorry,” she rushed out. He cocked his head, more curls spilling against his forehead. He was so impossibly handsome, made worse by his obvious and overt attraction to her. Mei could barely breathe as he made his way towards her, halting when there was merely a breath of space between them.

“For what?” he whispered, his long fingers brushing a piece of her hair off her face. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.”

She wanted to tell him everything, in that moment. She wanted to tell him about being seventeen and in love for the first time. Wanted to tell him how that male had been nearly two hundred years old—not that it mattered to her. How much she’d wanted him, how Mei had given him everything, and it had never been enough. He took and took and took until she was a shell, too afraid to even smile lest it set him off. 

She’d tried so hard to leave. Had fled to the northernmost territory—practically in Day, not that she’d known what was waiting for her back then. It never mattered. She’d always been dragged back, kicking and screaming and pleading. And the last time—oh, the last time. He’d been so certain she was leaving him for another male that he’d cut of her hand from her arm while he held her down, knees on her chest so she had to choose between trying to draw a breath and saving her limb. 

Thesan had killed him for it. Mei’s screaming had woken the palace and no longer could their tumultuous relationship be ignored. She’d never told anyone that Thesan had offered mercy—if she wanted it. Mei could have spared his life and the High Lord would have granted it. It was a small token of power, her first choice she’d been allowed to make in five years.

Mei hadn’t flinched when the High Lord removed his head. She’d held his pleading gaze, her face stone. She didn’t regret it. Mei had loved him and only much later had she come to terms with the fact that he had never loved her. He only hoped to possess, to control, to own. 

Soren’s thumb trailed over her bottom lip.

“Where did you go?” he whispered. She blinked.

“What?”

“I know that look,” he murmured, still holding her face with a gentleness that threatened to break her heart. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere I want to revisit,” she replied. She wasn’t ready to tell him yet. He was still a stranger, after all. 

He lowered his mouth, his thumb and finger tilting her chin for a feather soft kiss. He smelled incredible—tropical and masculine, edged with the salt of his lust. She wanted him, even though she thought she probably shouldn’t. He wanted her, too, and who was she to argue with a prince? 

Who was Mei—

Soren’s legs buckled. Those russet eyes widened before rolling upwards in his head. A strange, milky blue light replaced the once radiating daylight. She didn’t have time to catch him, so stunned by what she was seeing that she froze. Soren fell face first into the marble, hard enough his nose cracked, pouring blood even as he went utterly limp.

Mei screamed. What had she done? She ran to the door, unsure what to even do. What would the High Lord say when he realized her concoction had killed the Day Court prince? Mei took off running, slamming into Ivy just down the hall, lost in some serious conversation with her cousin Nyx. 

Ivy caught her with warm hands.

“Soren—” Mei wept, tears sliding down her face. Ivy looked over her shoulder, as if she expected to see her brother. “He—”

“Where is he?” Ivy asked softly. She was too kind.

“I killed him,” Mei whispered. Nyx’s dark brows raised upwards, eyes sliding to Ivy.

“Show me,” she murmured, taking Mei’s hand. Mei’s heart pounded as she all but ran Ivy back down the hall. Soren was still face down in a pool of blood, still so, so still.

Nyx sighed softly as Ivy made her way to him, the green of her dress sliding against his blood. She pulled her brother upwards, revealing the rapid rise and fall of his chest.

“Help me get him on the bed,” she told her cousin with a gentleness that told Mei this wasn’t the first time she’d found him like this. Nyx stepped carefully past Ivy, adjusting the sleeves of his black jacket to help haul Soren’s large body onto Mei’s bed. 

“What’s happening?” she asked, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand. Ivy looked over sympathetically.

“A vision,” she replied, smoothing curls from Soren’s face. “They don’t normally come like this, but they used to when we were little. He didn’t have as good of control back then.”

Nyx peered over his cousin, a strand of thick, dark hair flopping in his eyes. He looked up at Ivy, who nodded.

“Tell me,” she whispered. Nyx’s jammed his hands into his pockets, staring intently down at his cousin while Ivy sat on the edge of the bed.

“What happened?” she asked Mei, her voice free of judgment. 

Mei wondered if it wasn’t his magic returning after being suppressed by faebane that had brought this on. Before she could tell Ivy, Soren took a gasping breath, swinging at Nyx overhead.

“Get out of my fucking head,” he mumbled as Nyx jumped back, his wings flaring in alarm. “Don’t look at that.”

“Look at what?” Ivy demanded, arms crossed over her chest. Both Soren and Nyx winced. 

“Just…” Nyx’s brown cheeks colored almost red with embarrassment. 

Soren held her gaze for a moment. “Mating ceremony.”

Ivy’s eyes widened, sliding to Mei, who was still crying, still gripping the bedpost to keep herself upright.

“Oh,” she whispered. 

“Get out of here,” Soren demanded, rising up on his elbows with another wince of pain. Ivy stayed on the bed, fingers hovering in front of his face.

“Your nose is broken,” she told him. “Want me to set it.”

He set his lips in a thin line. “Do it.”

Mei turned just in time to hear the crunch as she pushed it back into place, punctuated by Soren’s grunt of pain. 

“Good as new, cousin,” Nyx praised, still a little too pale, a little too embarrassed, to be as casual as he was trying to project. He didn’t look at Ivy when she crossed the room, her hand sliding over Mei’s shoulder as she went. She paused in the doorway to look at her brother.

“Behave yourself,” she warned before closing it behind her. Soren scowled.

“Behave yourself,” he mimicked, looking over at her. “Come here.”

“Did you really see our mating ceremony?” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her chest. If he had, what was the point in fighting? She might as well feed him right then and there if the future was so set in stone. If—

He scoffed. “Not ours. Ivy’s.” His mouth pulled in a deep frown. “Nyx interrupted something bigger with his meddling…”

“Ivy has a mate?” Mei dared to ask, creeping closer. “Who?”

Soren smiled. “Fuck, Nyx knows now. I’ve been keeping it a secret for a long time…and Nyx has a big ass mouth.”

She came closer, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Who is it?”

“Swear you won’t tell,” he murmured, unaware of the strange, squirming excitement she felt at having some little secret between them.

“I swear,” she promised, putting her hand on the bed just beside his own. She was too chicken to touch him.

“It’s Alexander from Spring. They’ve been dancing around each other for years. Something else is happening,” he added, some of his amusement fading. “But I don’t know if I have a right to go searching for it.”

“Why not?”

He sighed, taking her hand in his own and pressing it to his chest. Mei could feel his pounding heart through his jacket. “Well…I don’t enjoy seeing my sister compromised, first of all. But secondly, the future is fluid. It’s in motion, undecided. I get pieces, usually, unless something has been concretely decided or is so unmovable it can’t be changed. Ivy’s mate can’t be changed, so I can see who he is, and her accepting it is a given thing. But other things…” he sucked in a breath of air. “You can make things a lot worse if you’re not careful.”

Mei shuddered. “That sounds like a terrible burden.”

Soren kissed her palm softly. “It is. No one sees that. But it is.”

SOREN:

“You know what we should do?” Nyx’s voice cut through Soren’s daydreaming. His cousin was a menace on a good day and today seemed to be proving himself every inch the Lord of Nightmares. He’d seen that vision of Ivy and Alexander in the woods, kissing frantically. A vision Soren would have preferred never to have had, made worse that now Nyx knew his cousin had a mate.

And not just any mate. The heir to the Spring Court. Nyx lacked vital context that Soren was disinclined to share, given it wasn’t his fucking business. He loved his cousin, though if he were truly honest, he would have said he preferred Selene to Nyx. She was less of a busybody…mostly because she was nine years old. 

Ivy was seated across from him examining her nails. She hadn’t looked at Alexander once, who, as far as Soren could tell, hadn’t looked at her either. It was clearly irking Nyx. 

“No one cares what you think,” Violette chimed from across the table. She stared him down with her icy, pale eyes. Waiting for him to contradict her. Finn chuckled while his pretty, blonde sister Saoirse looked over at the Winter princess, unaware of how the shadowsinger’s son was watching her with suspicious eyes. No one in Night liked anyone in Spring, though how Auden could dislike Saoirse, Soren couldn’t say. She was nice. Nicer than anyone at that table, at any rate. 

In a rare moment of not needing the last word, Nyx ignored Violette entirely. “We should go out to the islands—”

“Ugh,” Ivy interrupted, rising from her chair. “What happened to sleep?”

“Are you getting much of that these days?” Nyx asked, his voice silky smooth. Soren was going to murder him. He was going to tell Ivy and she’d avoid Alexander like the plague, thwarting any chance at being actually happy. All over a stupid fucking conflict three decades before. Soren dropped the barrier in his mind.

If you tell her, I’m going to tell you when your mother dies. 

It was his favorite threat. Nyx flinched when he heard it, eyes sliding to Soren. 

Stay out of this. 

Nyx frowned, unaware Ivy had responded. Soren just barely heard it, too.

She could do better than that brute. You’re going to let him drag her off to Spring? After what his father did to my mother?

Soren snarled, rising from his chair. 

“Not everything is about you,” he warned, an uncharacteristic outburst. Nyx stood, flaring out his wings threateningly. Who would win, he wondered?  Nyx had his parents' combined power, was set to take their throne. He trained far harder than Soren ever had and still they were both princess of their respective courts. Soren could anticipate every move Nyx might make ahead of time and wear him down to dust. 

“If it were my sister—”

“Maybe it will be,” Soren interrupted furiously. “And you’d still have no right to intervene. Stay out of it.”

“Stay out of what?” Ivy interrupted softly, dragging Soren and Nyx back to the present. The entire table was staring at them with curious eyes. Begging Nyx to let them in on this fight. It was unusual to see Soren angrier, and more unusual still to see him pick a fight with a family member. 

��Maybe we should leave,” Saoirse murmured, pulling at Finn’s arm. 

“I want to hear this,” Finn replied.

“There’s nothing to hear,” Nyx snapped, stepping around his chair angrily. Ivy was staring at Soren with those clever eyes—their fathers eyes, while Nyx stormed from the room, slamming the door loudly behind him. 

“What was—”

“Mind your own business, Ivy,” Soren snapped, chasing down his cousin before he did something stupid…like track down the prince of Spring and fight him over a bond Alexander likely didn’t even know he had. It would be a terrible way to inform them both. 

Soren caught Nyx on the outdoor terrace, grabbing his cousin’s arm roughly. “You need to keep this to yourself.”

“Does she reject it, at least?” Nyx asked, eyes searching. Soren only shrugged, though he knew Ivy wouldn’t. Alexander would make her happy, something Nyx could never understand. His mother had every right to hate Tamlin and the Spring Court but Soren’s father had lived there—had been friends with their High Lord, for a time. They hadn’t grown up the same.

“Would you reject a mating bond?”

“I would if it was with a Spring Court princess—”

“You’re a fucking liar,” Soren breathed. “And you know it.”

“Why do you care what Ivy does?” Soren asked, facing off with his cousin. Night kissed power punched into Soren’s gut, pushing him back several paces. 

“She’s going to be High Lady,” Nyx whispered softly. “Is she not? Or is she giving it up for you?”

Soren didn’t know why that made him snap. He didn’t mean to slam into his cousin, head butting him so hard in the chest that Nyx toppled backwards. It was, perhaps, the sneering assertion that Soren wasn’t worthy of ruling. Of the assumption that of course he’d never sit on that throne. And Soren would have sworn up and down he’d never wanted that kind of power. That Ivy had taken that burden off his shoulders so he could have fun…and yet Ivy had never made him feel lesser because she was presumed heir and not him.

Nyx, though. Nyx knew exactly how to get beneath his skin. Nyx, who was so fucking smug, who thought he knew best. Who had been born, much like Soren’s sister, to rule. Spoiled, pampered—favorite.

Soren’s fist collided with Nyx’s jaw as the realization swept over him. Nyx and Ivy were the favorite. And he…he was just extra. The person who could take over if Ivy did decide she wanted to go to Spring. 

Nyx had Soren on his back in six seconds flat, pummeling him viciously. “You’re a shitty brother—”

“That’s enough!” a snarling voice cut through their furious fist fight. Alexander had come with Finn, Saoirse, and Aine, likely to retire for the night. Rough hands yanked Nyx back, tossing him off Soren without holding Nyx for even a second. Alexander knew better than to pick that fight.

Nyx did not. 

He rounded on Alexander as Soren scrambled to his feet, pushing his magic into Alexander so violently Alexander’s massive body went flying through a glass door. It shattered upon the impact, spraying glass shards at the young Spring Court princesses.

Auden caught Saoirse, mere footsteps away from his friend, and spun her away from the blast. His wings flared outwards, catching the worst of the blast though Aine was not so fortunate. Glass cut over her cherub’s cheeks, undefended when Finn had lunged for his elder brother. She looked up at Nyx, her round green eyes filling with water.

Alexander roared with fury. Gone was the placid male that kept out of their way, replaced with a terrible, golden furred beast snapping his teeth in rage.

Aine burst into tears at the sight, just in time for both Ivy, Sage, and Violette to stride onto the scene. Ivy looked around, her sharp eyes falling on the scattered glass, of Alexander’s form and Nyx and Soren’s bleeding faces.

“Pathetic,” she said, her voice soft and filled with condemnation. Sage trailed after Ivy, who reached for Aine’s cut face before scooping her up like she was a little toddler. “All of you are pathetic.”

Soren looked up at the vaulted ceiling, his sister's words settling into his stomach like a stone.

He certainly felt like it.

MEI: 

She knew it was a mistake, creeping through the Day Court palace in the middle of the night. All anyone was talking about was the fight between Day and Night and Spring—Soren, Nyx, and Alexander. Mei had no business interfering and she knew it, and even less slipping into the prince's bedroom. Not when he had the reputation he did, and not when the bond between them seemed to be riding him so much harder. 

And yet there she was. Facing him down when she slid into his unlocked room. Soren was propped up in bed, white sheets tangled around his powerful legs. If he’d been fighting, he hadn’t been hit badly. There were no bruises on his beautiful face, no blood or swelling.

He cocked his head. “Have you come to fuss over me?”

She flushed. “I uh…thought maybe you’d need…” Mei felt foolish. Silly, admitting she’d just wanted to make sure he was okay. “I should go.”

He shook his head back and forth, curls flopping into his russet eyes. “I’d rather you stay.”

Mei looked over his muscled form, a new, more terrifying though creeping through her mind.

“Are you dressed?” she whispered. His lips curled into a smile.

“In my own bed?”

“Then I shouldn’t—”

“Of course you should,” he interrupted smoothly. “I want you to.”

And she knew he did. Mei could scent his want just as surely as she could feel her own. Had she met him years before, she thought she would have jumped at the chance to have him. To accept the bond between them and climb into that bed. She’d been different back then. More trusting, certainly.

She hesitated and he caught it. Soren leaned forward, his lower half still covered by that blanket. Every inch of her wanted to see it fall away, if only just to know. Mei tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She needed to leave. He was okay and she needed to go.

“If I put on pants, will you get in my bed?” he murmured. She blinked. She hadn’t expected him to compromise with her.

“I uh…” she didn’t know how to get a coherent word out.

“I won’t touch you unless you ask me to,” he promised softly. “But I would like to be near you…if that's what you want, too?”

And she did. She wanted it so badly it made her whole body ache. Just his mere presence set her blood aflame. Denying the bond between them was a herculean task when instinct begged her to just give in. He belonged to her. Beautiful, lovely Soren—it hardly seemed possible.

She nodded her head and he smiled, pushing errant curls off his face.

“Turn around,” he told her, waiting until she presented her back before getting up. She knew other males would have flung off that sheet, forcing her to drink him in. Mei was certain that every single inch of him was glorious and he knew it. She listened to the sound of him shuffling through the room, trying so hard not to picture what might be hanging between his legs.

Then, he was coming towards her. She felt his fingers skim oh so lightly against her arms. “I put a shirt on, too,” he told her before she turned, her heart thumping erratically. “Hoping to convince you to stay the night.”

He’d have to put a bag over his face, then. That was the real problem. Soren was too beautiful for words, so handsome she didn’t know what to make of him. Mei turned, looking up into his russet eyes practically burning with flame.

“Do you have Autumn’s magic?” she asked, blurting out one of her many, many questions.

His face split into an easy smile. “A little,” he admitted. “Don’t tell the High Lord or he’ll make me train with his soldiers.”

Soren held out his broad, strong hand and with a little twitch of his long fingers, flame ignited against his skin. 

“You don’t want to train?” she asked, watching that fire vanish in a flicker of smoke. 

Soren chuckled. “Not unless I have to.”

“But you have trained?” she pressed. She wanted to know everything about the unusual Day Court twins. They were connected to nearly every court in Prythian in a way no one else was and the inherent privilege that came with that was something she noticed irked the others. Ivy was treated like Prythian’s High Queen for all the deference Day, Night, Spring and Autumn seemed to pay her. 

And Soren, she supposed, was the emissary between them. Thesan had done a good job keeping the Spell-Cleavers out—he didn’t want to be an extension of their court. Mei wondered if he’d let Soren in earlier, if she would have been spared her ordeal with her former lover. 

“Yes,” he agreed, stepping back towards his bed with hopeful eyes. “With my father first, and then my uncles in Night.”

“Are you any good?”

He smiled again, climbing back beneath the sheets. Draped in a breezy white shirt and matching loose, linen pants, Mei was suddenly overwhelmingly disappointed she couldn’t see the bronzed musculature of his chest or thighs.

“Do you intend to duel me?”

She inched forward until she was at the edge of his large bed. It smelled like him—masculine and warm and strangely tropical. “I don’t know how to fight.”

He raised his brows. “Do you want to learn?”

She watched as he reached one of his long arms towards the bedside table and procured a dagger from the top drawer. Flipping it in the air, he caught it easily by the blade, offering the golden hilt. Mei swallowed, reaching for the carved handle bedecked in red and yellow gems. 

“You sleep with a dagger?”

“There are enough lords in this court that would see my sister and I dead,” he replied casually. “I like to be prepared for that eventuality.”

“Your own court wants to see you dead?” she murmured, daring to sit on the edge of his bed.

“Well, Ivy really. I think they’d be fine if I took her place.”

“Because you’re male?”

He nodded. “Because I’m male.”

Poor Ivy. 

“Will you come closer?” Soren murmured, pulling Mei out of her thoughts. She did as he asked, sitting fully on the bed, though there was still a respectable amount of distance between them, though it wasn’t helping at all. 

“I don’t bite,” he said, flashing a grin that told her he very much would, if she asked. Still, she scooted until her thigh was pressed against his own. Soren sighed, reclining an arm behind his head so she could admire his bicep without being so blatant.

“Tell me about yourself,” he murmured. “All we do is talk about my family—about me. Tell me about you.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” she told him quickly. He’d back off if he ever learned how damaged she was. Surely the prince of Day Court could do better than her.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

His other hand laced through her golden fingers, catching her off guard. Soren brought it towards his face, she thought to inspect. Mei started to pull back but he merely kissed her knuckles, his lashes fluttering shut for a moment. 

“My father has an eye from Dawn,” he murmured, his lips still pressed to that limb. She could feel it like a phantom—not quite a touch, but almost, like a memory just out of reach. Soren held it against his chest, thumb stroking gently. “It was ripped from his face.”

“I’ve heard the story,” she admitted. 

His jaw flexed. “The—” he halted, and she waited, heart pounding, for him to just ask. “The person who caused this…are they still alive?”

“No,” she whispered.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he continued, eyes sliding to her face. And she did—oh, how Mei wanted to tell him everything. She didn’t dare. His anger was enough. Mei came closer, daring to rest her head against the hard plain of his chest.

“No…but if he was alive…” she drew a shaky breath. “If he was still alive…what would you do?”

“He?” Soren questioned, his voice soft and lethal. “Is he dead, Mei?”

“Yes.”

“Swear it?”

“I swear it.”

He relaxed, but only slightly. She could feel him vibrating, his body utterly taut with anger. She knew what he was imagining. It felt good to have him angry on her behalf in a way she couldn’t explain. She buried her face into the cloth of his shirt, inhaling his scent. 

“I would give Thesan a reason to haul me before a tribunal,” he murmured, his nose sliding through her hair. “I’d paint his court red with blood.”

She shivered. “For me?”

“For you,” he agreed, his other hand reaching for her face to tilt it upwards. His thumb stroked over her cheek, holding her for a moment. “Do not doubt the things I might do for you.”

She let him brush his fingers over her lips, drinking in the musky scent of his arousal. She wanted to stay, to give in and knew it was a mistake. She’d have food down his throat in six seconds flat if she ever found herself beneath his naked form. 

She wondered if he knew it. 

Mei pushed upwards, halting only when his hand wrapped around her wrist. “Stay,” he urged. “Nothing has to happen.”

He was such a liar and they both knew it. All she wanted was to touch him, to taste the salt on his skin. To know what he sounded like when he came. 

To please him.

“I can’t,” she admitted, well aware he was drinking in her own arousal. Soren’s eyes were impossibly dark, ringed with the most vibrant shade of gold she’d ever seen. She tried to tug from his grasp and he growled, though he let her go all the same. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he told her as she scurried for the door.

Mei glanced over her shoulder, nodding. “I know.”

“I’ll wait—forever, if I have to.”

She’d be lucky if they waited a week.

But oh, how it felt good to hear just the same.

#ivy x alex #soren x mei #sorry im too tired to keep writing tonight #so accept this as an apology

[backburnerdio]

CampNaNo Prompt Style-Week 1

Trying to get out of writer's block by trying out daily prompts with a low bar of 20k words for the month. Just to get the words moving. I'm using THIS PROMPT LIST for inspiration.

This week I got hung up on one idea & decided to take the whole week of prompts & put it into one excerpt. I'm going to try to do shorter, daily bits for each prompt unless this way works better. (It's all about making the brain happy so she'll move)

Week 1 Prompts 1. Definition 2. Fix 3. Punch 4. Elaborate 5. Neighbor 6. Scene 7. Productive Words: 4,133 cw: medical mention, violence mention, abuse mention language Summary: Garnet is out on medical leave, but he doesn't need help. Beau is still trying to get the hang of making friends –but Garnet doesn't need help! He's fine!

Taglist: @everlastinq, @waysofink, @ashen-crest, @spacetimewraithwrites, @dustylovelyrun, @idreamonpaper, @abalonetea, @jaimistoryteller, @kaiusvnoir, @writeouswriter, @reininginthefirewriting, @concealeddarkness13, @athenixrose (Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed)

There was banging at the door, but Garnet didn’t bother getting up. It was probably one of his neighbors coming to bitch about the smell of to-go containers stacked in his kitchen. Someone shouted something he couldn’t hear from down the hall.

Mind your business and keep moving.

Another round of knocking lasted a while until, finally, they gave up.

Yeah, that’s what I thought.

He released a deep breath, slouching back in his seat and letting his eyes fall closed. He’d been on medical leave for a little over a week. It’d been a domestic abuse situation during a neighborhood card game, and Garnet had gotten outnumbered trying to get the kids out of the house. He’d needed some stitches, a sling for a dislocated shoulder and broken collar bone, fractured ribs, and a few broken fingers, but he’d managed to get out of the hospital before they decided to keep him overnight.

But in his rush, he’d forgotten to pick up his prescribed painkillers.

He was definitely hurting, had been for days, but wasn’t going to bother anyone when he knew, eventually, it’d go away. It’d stop. He’d heal up on his own. If he could get still enough, quiet enough, he could get some sleep.

“Garnet?” Someone called from inside his apartment.

“What?” he grated without opening his eyes. There was still blood dried in one ear, making it difficult to tell who exactly it was, but if he had to guess maybe Ryker. He’d given him a spare key for emergencies. Footsteps came down the hall, past the door, and then backing up.

“Why are you in the bathtub?”

Not Ryker.

Garnet turned his head, wincing at the speed, and peered through dark spots at the person in the doorway. It was the annoying robocop from work, the small one, looking half-swallowed in the Mediator jacket. “The hell are you doing here?” Garnet snapped. “Am I gonna have to file a restraining order against you or what? Like you can’t leave me alone.”

“I was asked by Chief Thatcher to come down and perform a wellness check since no one had heard from you in days.”

“Check,” Garnet attempted to mimic drawing a check mark only to be hindered by the sling. “You can head on back, boy scout.” But Beau didn’t seem to hear. He stepped into the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the lights.

“You’re growing hair on your face like Ryker.”

“Yeah, thanks. I hate it.” Garnet sighed, slouching back into the pillows and blanket he’d piled in the tub. It wasn’t all that difficult to get out of, allowing him to sleep somewhat sitting up, darker and cozier, and a shorter trip to the bathroom or kitchen.

“You’ve been sleeping in here?"

“You know what, you get a star sticker for observation, Beau.” Garnet turned to look up at him only to wince at a flash of pain.

“You’re still hurt.”

“Nothing gets past you,” he muttered, forcing himself to lie back.

“When are you due for your next dosage of pain medicine?”

“Look, I didn’t say you could come in here. You did what Thatcher asked, thank you, now you can go.” But Beau didn’t seem to hear. He went to the medicine cabinet, checking behind the mirror before going down the hall towards the bedroom. “Hey! Where the hell are you goin’?” he paused, trying to listen for him through his one good ear. “Beau!”

“Yes?” Beau passed the doorway going to the kitchen.

“Go. Get back to work.” Garnet struggled to sit up, squinting at the door. “This is an invasion of privacy. Stop snooping through my things.” It was a moment or so before Beau came back.

“I can’t find any medication anywhere. Only nausea pills that are out of date by six months.”

“Go. Back. To. Work. Now. Get out of my apartment!” He attempted to glare through bruises. Beau stared at him for a moment and nodded.

“Okay,” and he left. Garnet heard the front door shut behind him and only then allowed himself to sit back. He listened to the rumble of traffic outside, water moving in the pipes, and a dog barking from some other unit. But eventually fell asleep.

He was prodded awake. “Garnet. Garnet, wake up,” he jolted at the hand on him, nearly blacking out from the pain. When it finally settled he peered up through tears at Beau leaning over the side of the tub. There was still daylight coming down the hall from the living room, and Beau was still in his stupid big jacket.

“What? What?!” Garnet hissed. “Didn’t I tell you to leave?”

“I did. I went and got your medicine. They said they’d been holding it for almost a week.” It wasn’t until then that Garnet registered the glass of water and bottle cap with two pills Beau was offering him. “I got some other things that will hopefully help too. Like food.”

Garnet continued to stare stupidly and finally looked up at Beau. He studied him for a moment. “Oh…okay, thanks.” He finally said, taking the cap to dump in his mouth and then the glass. It was awkward to hold but he managed it. Beau waited, taking the glass when he was done to set on the sink where he had a grocery bag in the basin. “What happened to you being glued to Ryker’s hip?”

“I’ve been approved to take small jobs on my own now. I’ve learned a lot.” He smiled to himself, digging into the bag. “Oh, Valetta said to tell you she’s really worried about you. She tried to come over two days ago, but she said you didn’t answer. She wants you to call her.”

“Tell her I’m resting.”

“Don’t you want to call her? I thought the two of you were close,” Beau paused.

“Look, aren’t you supposed to go back to work? Aren’t you still on shift?” Garnet eyed him.

“I let Thatcher know you needed some help with things here, and he said it was alright if I did.”

“Agh, Beau,” Garnet rest his head back, shutting his eyes. “You can’t do that, bud.”

The shuffling of the bag stopped. “Did I do something wrong?”

“Yeah. You can’t tell people I need help.”

“Why not?”

“Because.” Garnet grimaced at the silence knowing Beau wouldn’t take just that as an answer.

“Can you elaborate so I can understand why telling people you need help is a bad thing?”

“Well, I –I mean asking for help isn’t bad. But if they think I need help they’ll get all worried and will come over here causing a scene, and I don’t want their pity or to hear about it.”

“But they’re already worried about you, and they don’t pity you. They’re saying a lot of good things about you at—”

“Stop. You’re doing it,” Garnet huffed. “Look, when you go back tell them everything is fine. Okay? I don’t need anything.” Beau pointed towards the kitchen, started to say something, and caught himself. “I’m fine. I told you that earlier. I don’t need help.”

“You’re in pain.”

“Yeah but—”

“And you have the same bandages from the hospital. You need to have your stitches checked and possibly bandages changed.” Beau removed his jacket, hanging it on the doorknob. He then removed his boots and weapon belt, gingerly stepping into the tub.

“Hey, what are you doing?” Garnet frowned but didn’t have the energy for much more. Carefully, Beau was sure not to step on him as he moved to the other end, sitting down between Garnet’s feet.

“I can’t turn in a completed wellness check until I know your bandages and wounds are clean. If you don’t check them, you could get an infection and end up back at the hospital.”

“Yeah, I’ll get to it,” he sighed. He would. He’d get to his bandages, and the pile of dishes, and the trash, and the dirty clothes. “You should really worry more about work. We’re already down a person as is.”

“I’m still on call,” Beau assured. Garnet didn’t care that it got quiet after that, he didn’t feel like being social and wasn’t exactly in the condition to be a host for someone who just invited themselves in. “The way you’re avoiding people has me concerned as well. That isn’t like you. Are you sure you’re doing alright?”

Garnet huffed, continuing to ignore him. This wasn’t a conversation he was having right then.

When there wasn’t a response Beau said, “I know we’re not exactly friends, that you don’t like me too much, but I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“Who the hell said that?” Garnet glared.

“Well, we don’t entirely meet the definition of friends.”

“We’re friends. Just… working on it.” Beau perked at that, sitting up straighter with a smile. Something in the tub thunked.

“Really? We’re friends?” The shower head came alive, water spraying down on both of them. Beau’s brow wrinkled in confusion as if trying to make sense of things, and then his eyes widened, turning to find he’d hit the knob. Garnet closed his eyes against the water, too tired to be upset. “I’m so sorry, Garnet!” Beau blurted, struggling to cut it back off.

“Don’t worry about it,” he could only chuckle, opening his eyes once the water finally stopped. Beau grimaced, completely soaked, curls hanging in his face as he watched Garnet. “I probably need a shower. It’s been a few days. I don’t know what smells worse, me or the trash in the kitchen.” Giving himself a second, Garnet sat up. “Why don’t you go change of clothes before I have to put you in rice or something?”

“I… I didn’t bring any clothes.”

“Go get some from my room,” Garnet couldn’t help the snicker, hand bracing his middle. “You’ve already rummaged through everything, might as well go get something.” Beau fumbled to his feet to get out, still as careful not to hurt Garnet.

“Do you need help out?”

“Nah, it’s a slow go. Go change.” He waved him off. He’d just gotten his feet under him when Beau came back wearing clothes that were clearly too big. Instantly he started to help Garnet out of the sling, holding it under an arm to begin removing his bandages. Beau had the same sharp, single-minded concentration all Synthetics did when locking onto a task deemed important. He was so focused on the bandage work, he forgot emulating processes like blinking or moving less uncanny valley.

Garnet watched him in turn, knowing Beau probably didn’t notice and Garnet didn’t entirely care if he did. He was trying to figure out why Beau was doing this. Changing bandages and checking stitches wasn’t protocol for a wellness check, and surely Beau knew Garnet was aware of that. So what was he trying to gain from this? A friendship?

Why?

Beau spiraled up the used bandages, starting with those around his arm where stitches were. They were red and irritated, and there was another moment of study before Beau finally blinked and looked up at him. “Good thing we’re changing these now. Too much longer and they could have gotten infected.”

“I thought Mikki was the medic?”

“I know a little first aid,” Beau nodded. “But I’m not medically trained, no.”

“Oh, great,” Garnet laughed again, the suddenness making him flinch.

“This is hardly a medical procedure,” Beau frowned, continuing on removing the bandages around his ribs. He spiraled them up just the same, checking any scrapes or bruises. “You have tattoos,” he announced as if Garnet may have not been aware.

“Yep, had some of them awhile.”

“Did they hurt?” Beau continued to unwrap.

“Some of them. Why? You want one?” He smirked at that watching Beau consider it.

“I think so, but I don’t think it’s possible for me.”

“What would you get?” it was quiet as Beau thought about it, finishing the bandages and stepping back to look his work over.

"A philodendron,” he finally announced. “Philodendron melanochrysum, exactly.”

“I’d have to look that up.”

“They have big green leaves that look like hearts. I think they’re nice,” Beau nodded, moving over to the shower to collect the damp pillows and blanket from the tub. “Okay, you should be alright, now. You take a shower and I’ll replace the bandages when you’re done.”

“Beau, why are you not going back to work?”

“Because I’m not done here yet.” Was all he said from behind the pile, moving into the hall. Garnet stared after him before giving up and taking a sad excuse of a shower. But he had to admit he felt better after. The pain medicine was just starting to kick in, and he was still achy and stiff, but being clean made him feel better.

He stepped out finding clean clothes were waiting on him, as well as one of the bar stools. He eyed the stool as he carefully dried his stitches and got into the pajama pants. He could hear the washer going in the laundry room, pausing to listen.

He caught sight of himself in the mirror finding the stubble on his face was somehow worse than he’d imagined. It came in thick along his jaw and chin and became patchy along his cheeks. That paired with the darkened circles beneath his eyes gave him the look of a deranged old man. It matched how he felt. The bag Beau had was missing from the sink, bandages, a plastic razor, and a can of shaving cream sat on the counter.

Toeing the stool aside he gradually lifted his least busted arm to the mirror, flicking it open to get the straight blade from a shelf. Luckily for him, he’d busted his dominant arm so he got the choice of potentially butchering his face or dislocating his shoulder again. Swapping it into his injured hand he decided to take a chance with his shoulder.

He twisted the water on, carefully shaking the can Beau had brought making note to pay him back later. Even the faint movement made his ribs ache and he hoped the pain medicine hurried. Wetting his face and lathering up he steadied the blade in his hand, eyeing it as if it were a wild viper and, slowly, brought it to his face.

Tilting his jaw he began on the curve of the mandible, forcing pressure into his hand that surprisingly took it well. He’d taken a great deal of abuse over the years, but his body seemed willing to cooperate. He pulled the razor across his skin carefully, slowly. In his sad shape he was doing admirably, almost finished with one side when a spasm of pain jolted across the shelf of his shoulder and down his arm. His hand jerked –a movement he had no hope of controlling– and the instant bite of the blade painfully tore into his skin causing him to drop it in the sink as if it would stop the pain.

He grit his teeth, humming in lieu of stringing off every curse word he knew.

“Here,” the hand on his shoulder startled him.

“Shit,” Garnet huffed, bracing himself on the counter as Beau gently pressed him away from the sink. He gave the bar stool a pat before winding up tissue to press to the fresh cut. Garnet shut his eyes against the pain, unsure how much more he could take at the moment.

“Have a seat,” Beau whispered, and that wasn’t the reason he sat down. He didn’t sit down because he was hurt or because Beau wanted him to. He was tired.

“Okay, what are you doing? What’s going on?” Garnet got out as Beau got the cut to stop bleeding.

“I should be asking you the same thing. What are you doing using your arm when you aren’t supposed to? The doctors most likely told you better than that.” Beau added more lather before rinsing the blade and giving it a tap. “Be still please, let me fix it.”

Garnet leaned back as he brought the blade close. “Stop,” their eyes met, Garnet’s brows pinching in irritation. “Answer the question, what’s going on?”

“When I asked about your facial hair you said ‘Yeah, thanks. I hate it.’ As in you don’t want it on your face. Correct?” Garnet stared, mouth opening uselessly as his brows bent. His brain finally gave him something to say and he scowled.

“You’re gonna give me a shave? You don’t even shave.”

“Are you scared I’ll hurt you?”

“I’m not scared!”

“Alright, then you shouldn’t have a problem with me giving you a shave,” Beau leaned in again, moving around the cut starting at his cheek. Beau’s eyes narrowed as he took care in moving in steady strokes. In silence, Garnet watched him become lost in his work, adjusting the position of Garnet’s face every so often, rhythmically cleaning the blade between pulls. He knew he should tell Beau to stop, to leave him alone, to go and never come back, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Beau twisted, rinsing and tapping the blade before returning. “I didn’t know what you might like to wear, but I have clothes washing. They shouldn’t be too much longer. I have food ordered too. I didn’t consider if you’d eaten before, you should eat for your pain medicine. You aren’t feeling sick are you?”

“No,” but he couldn’t get venom into it. “I’m not decrepit, Beau. You’re doing too much.” Beau tapped the cut he’d covered with tissue. “Ow! C’mon.”

“Not decrepit, no, but you almost earned yourself another set of stitches. If you’re not going to ask for help, I’m just going to show up and give it to you.”

“I don’t need—”

“Please be quiet, you’re going to make me cut you.” He tilted Garnet’s head back to work on his throat. Garnet tensed and Beau stopped. He paused, watching Garnet’s face, but not pressing on. Garnet reminded himself it was Beau, he’d never done anything before to suggest he’d hurt anyone and if he did it’d probably be enough to finish the job.

Garnet released a long breath, “Okay,” and closed his eyes. He let his shoulders fall, feeling the way Beau’s hands moved. They were warm, bracing along his jaw and tracing behind the blade as if testing to see if he was getting a close enough shave. Eventually, he urged Garnet’s face down again, quickly working under his nose and his sideburns.

“There,” Beau abruptly finished, turning for a rag, dampening it, and wiping Garnet’s face down. “Let’s get you bandaged up.” He took a box from the cabinet, pulled out a tube of antibiotic ointment, and gently applied it to the stitches. The ache had become nothing more than a fuzzy presence when he moved a certain way, making it much easier to cooperate as Beau wrapped his arm and ribs, helping him back into the sling. “Done. Feel better?”

“Yeah… thanks.” He watched Beau clear the sink and wash the razor. As he turned to step out, Garnet grabbed his arm, grimacing at the tenderness in his shoulder. Beau looked up, expectantly, waiting for Garnet to say something. Only, he didn’t know what to say. “Wait.” he blurted oh-so intelligently.

“I am,” Beau assured. As he stared Garnet felt color grow in his face and started to panic.

“You don’t, uh, you don’t have to do all of this.”

“I know,” Beau nodded, not trying to pull away, not squinting at him as if he were the stupidest living thing on the planet. “I want to.”

Shit.

Garnet let go of him, shuffling awkwardly as Beau stepped around to get the stool. He left with it and Garnet slowly leaned out into the hall. There was a distinct lack of smell from the rest of the apartment. Curiously he followed Beau to the kitchen, gawking at the pristine counters and stove. The balcony door was propped open, letting in autumn air and the hum of traffic below. All the trash had been taken out, everything wiped down, the broom leaning against one of the cabinets.

“Did you…?”

“I didn’t want you trying to take the bins down until you’re better,” Beau informed happily. “I knew you’d probably try it.” At least, he’d planned on it. Garnet braced his balance against the wall feeling drained again. Nodding dumbly he turned himself around, unsure if he could take being in the same room. He felt like a slob, a useless, unproductive slob.

Garnet went back to the bedroom, stepping in and coming to an abrupt stop. His two week old bedding had been changed. The thick winter comforter had been brought out, sheets replaced with one of the jersey sets he’d gotten when he first moved in. Clothes were picked up off the floor and the pillows were arranged on the bed. Everything looked clean and cozy.

He barely heard someone knocking.

A little bit later Beau called out to him from the end of the hall, Garnet managing to get himself turned around to stare. “Food’s here,” he held up the bag, smiling.

“Thanks, bud,” he managed to get out.

“Were you going to lie down? I can bring it in there.” Before he could answer, Beau was already darting into the kitchen for a plate. Garnet wasn’t sure if it were the painkillers or the shock of having someone come in and clean up the mess he’d been avoiding, feeling like he wasn’t quite in his body.

Painkillers. It’s gotta be the painkillers.

He managed to get to the bed, trying to avoid the chest tightening thoughts as he sat down. It seemed like no time at all Beau came in with a bowl of pad thai. “Before you ask,” he announced, “I didn’t ask, Valetta told me this was something you liked. She doesn’t know you haven’t eaten today.”

“Beau, listen,” Garnet’s voice tried to fizzle out on him, clearing his throat. “I know you’re being nice, and I appreciate it, but you’ve got to pump the breaks, bud. You’re doing too much.” Beau tilted his head, brow wrinkling.

“I’m sorry. I was worried I might have overstepped, but I didn’t want you being stubborn –like you are– and hurting yourself worse. I know you’re uncomfortable. And I didn’t hack into your medical report!” he hurried to defend. “I arrived on scene with Ryker and saw that guy punch your head against the cement floor. I knew at that moment you had a concussion, if not a fractured skull. And I know it must be painful, so I wanted to help so you could heal faster.”

Garnet stared at him, thankful he didn’t remember that bit, probably having blacked out before then. “Why?” It slipped out before he could stop it. “Why would you want to help me?”

“Well, I want to be friends with you,” Beau said casually, sitting at the foot of the bed. “But you said we’re already friends—”

“Working on it.”

“And you took care of me that night when I was hurt. So, I wanted to take care of you, too. That’s what friends do.” And he smiled. Garnet felt that squeezing in his chest again. He realized it had been a while without a response when Beau started fidgeting with his hands, expression a bit defeated.

“Yeah,” Garnet got himself to say. “I guess you’re right. You… uh, do you have to go back to the station tonight?”

Beau abruptly got to his feet, “I was going to call for a car when my uniform finishes in the dryer, but I can take it with me if you need me to. I’ll lock up before I leave.” He started for the door.

“No, Beau. Dammit, wait!” He did, turning back around still fidgeting. “I was gonna say, you’re welcome to stay the night if you want. No real sense going back now if your shift is over. We can watch a movie or something. Whatever you usually do.”

“I like movies.” Beau smiled. Garnet nodded, getting the projector remote from the nightstand as Beau went to lock up. He sat at the foot of the bed as Garnet flipped through a few selections.

“Beau, sit back here,” Garnet chuckled, nodding towards the pillows. Beau shuffled back to sit, sinking into the pile. “You ever seen one of these?”

“Ooh! Yeah!” Beau pointed madly at the screen. “I saw the first one at Valetta’s. ‘Baba-Yaga. It was just a fuckin’ car, just a fuckin’ dog’.” He mimicked a line from the movie perfectly, grinning at Garnet when he laughed.

“Wanna watch the second one?”

“Yeah!” Beau cheered, waving finger guns. Garnet chuckled to himself, shaking his head as he started the movie. He didn’t entirely understand Beau’s motives for sticking around, but he decided to leave it up to Tomorrow Garnet. When he wasn’t on painkillers.

Yeah. Tomorrow Garnet would have all the answers.

#wip: tb #writing #my writing #writeblr #writblr #tb excerpts #tb drabbles