#i completely forgot about the cut scenes of catching him at the bar

[kasperbunny]

now that I have married Shane in one of my newer files and his marriage dialogue is fresh in my mind. it is so...insulting, when I keep seeing people say he "regresses" after marriage. there is a 3 part cut scene where you are suspicious of him going to the bar so much, but it turns out he's just going to play the arcade game there and he's even using it to cope with "his urges" (as he puts it). AND he's drinking soda instead of beer!!! so where the fuck is he regressing here??? yes he has a few beers every once in a while at home but he is still recovering and he is still depressed! marriage doesn't fix you!!!

#kasper yaps #sorry im heated #i completely forgot about the cut scenes of catching him at the bar #he even gets mad at you and says im your husband why dont you trust me? when you confront him #it hurts but its so true. you SHOULD trust him bc he tells you over and over how much better hes doing and how much happier he is now #people pls dont marry a depressed alcoholic and then get mad when hes still depressed

[juiceinpanties]

10 Things You Hate About Eddie Munson, pt 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson/afab!reader

Rating(s): Chapter: E; Fic: E

Tags: eventual smut, penetrative sex, oral sex (both m and f receiving), fingering, subbie!Eddie, masturbation (m and f), fake dating, van sex, secret relationship, antagonistic relationship to friendship to lovers, casual sex, not-so-casual sex, phone sex, drunk reader

Summary: Your best friend, Nancy Wheeler, is absolutely dying to date Steve Harrington, but her parents have the weirdest rule: Nancy can't date until her friends (e.g., you) do. Nancy begs you to date someone, anyone, and eventually you agree. Meanwhile Steve offers to pay Eddie "the freak" Munson to ask you out. What could possibly go wrong??

Notes: This is, quite obviously, a 10 Things I Hate About You au, with a slight twist. Throw in some fake dating, a 90s setting, and here we are. Thanks to @tonybourdain​ for dragging me in and continuing to enable me. She helped me entirely rewrite the pone scene because it WAS NOT WORKING as it was.

Please note the tags. Smut ahoy!!

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog! Completely blank blogs that just like will be blocked because I'm gonna assume you're a bot. I've been here a long time.

In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

You can’t stop thinking about Eddie.

It’s nearly 10pm. Homework is done, dinner is eaten, excuse is made to parents about why you left school after lunch. And you can’t stop thinking about Eddie Munson and his wide cow eyes and his soft, yummy lips and his big, gentle hands.

It’s like freshman year all over again. At least this time you’re not scribbling his name in your notebook with little hearts everywhere.

You change into your usual sleep uniform of panties and a t shirt and fall back into bed. Maybe you can read for a while, get him off your mind so that you can sleep.

That lasts about 20 minutes. Ugh. This is exactly why you don’t date! You’re far too busy to worry about dumb boys! You toss your book aside and run downstairs for a snack.

You’re on your way back to your room, granola bar in one hand and glass of milk in the other, when you head your private line ringing. You mutter a curse and run to catch it.

“Hello!” you say, breathlessly.

“Hello, did I interrupt something?” It’s Eddie.

You roll your eyes. “Me, running away from you.”

“Haha. Geez you’re so mean.”

“Uh huh. Hang on.” You put the phone down and shut your bedroom door, then climb back into bed and grab the phone again. “Okay, hi. What’s up?”

He grins and plops down on his bed. “I wanted to ask about tomorrow.”

“Hm?” You unwrap your granola bar, but then realize you can’t eat it while talking to him, so you set it aside and sip your milk instead.

“Tutoring? Did you forget?”

“Of course not. I’m just wondering what questions you have.”

He fiddles with the blanket. Maybe this was a mistake. He doesn’t actually have any questions about tomorrow; he just couldn’t stop thinking about you and wanted to hear your voice.

“Uhhh oh! What should I bring?”

You make a face. “Your chem book. Pens and paper. Your brain.”

“Cool, glad you mentioned the last one. Probably woulda forgot.”

You giggle just a little. “Blood flow issues again?”

“Ha,” he says on a breath. “Not right this second, but it’s definitely possible.” He pauses and drums his fingers against his thigh. “So, uh. How’s your evening been?”

“Fine,” you say. “My parents got a call from the school, but I think I calmed them down.”

“Oh shit that’s good. Can’t believe you ruined your perfect attendance record for me.”

“Uh huh, I’m turning into a juvenile delinquent. Cutting class to make out with Eddie Munson in the back of his van.”

"Hey, I just invited you for fries! You kissed me first."

"So I did," you say. "I guess I'm a sucker for pouty lips and big brown eyes."

"My lips are not pouty!"

"Mhmm, sure they are."

"Hmmph," he snorts. "If mine are yours are too. Big, soft, pretty lips. Big, bright eyes." He lets out a long breath. “I can’t stop thinking about you, pretty girl.”

You blush and shift in your seat. Pull the sheet up over your bare legs. His voice is a little low and rougher than usual and it makes you go warm all over. “I was—struggling with something similar,” you admit.

“Oh yeah?” He glances down as a bulge starts to grow in his boxers. Oh geez. Just your voice is doing this! He’s in trouble. He gives it the tiniest stroke with his fingertips.

"Eddie? What was that?" you say as he makes a soft, breathy noise.

"Huh? Oh, uh, nothing." Shit. He's gotta be more careful.

"Hmm." Your bed creaks as you finish off your milk and set the glass aside.

"What was that?" he says with a grin.

"Nothing! I was putting my empty glass on the nightstand."

"Ohhh, I see. Just being a good girl, all tucked in to your bed with your little snack," he says, his voice going rough as he talks. The image is Too Much. He bites off a groan as he rubs his bulge again.

"You okay?" you say. You maybe sort of suspect what that noise was, but surely you're wrong.

"Yeah, yup. I'm good. You?"

You lick your lips. “I want—to kiss you again,” you say. "I mean, if you—would like that. You seemed to like it."

“I’d love that,” he murmurs. “I’d love to be kissing you right now.”

You muffle another giggle. “You could sneak in. You were so good at it last time.”

"That's true! Sneak up to your room, crawl in your bed with you, and...study for chem!"

You laugh and grab your favorite bear from the pile by your bed. Rub your cheek against its soft fur. "Study, huh? What a responsible young man!"

"That's me! Eddie Munson, responsible—young—man." His voice stutters a little as he grips his erection and squeezes.

"Eddie Munson, clearly up to something. What are you doing?"

"I'm—shit. You're suspicious, huh?"

"Mhmm." You run your hand over your chest, across your pebbled nipples. The cotton of your shirt rubs the sensitive skin and you let out a tiny breath.

"Havin' another drink?" he says with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up."

He laughs and pulls his shorts down enough to free his cock. He grips the shaft and runs his thumb over the swollen head. This time he openly lets out a rough breath. "I'll just be quiet," he mumbles. "Just listen to you talk."

"Uh huh," you say. You tug one of your nipples, and then shove your shirt up with an impatient little growl. "As you do what?"

"Nothing. Why, what're you doing?"

"Nothing." You bite your lip around a breath as you continue to play with your extra-sensitive nipples. "What are you working on in chem right now?" you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

"Mmmm." He rubs his thumb up and down against the vein on the underside of his cock. Presses against the spot where the head meets the shaft and circles. "Covalent bonds," he manages.

"Oh good." You give up and press a hand between your thighs. You can feel how wet you are through your cotton panties. "I'm fantastic at covalent bonds."

"Uh huh. I just bet you are." He grinds his palm against the tip of his cock and grips it again to stroke the entire length. "What else are you good at, princess?"

You shiver at his tone, the roughness of it. "Lots of things," you breathe.

"God I bet you are."

You give the tiniest moan and shove your panties aside. You run your fingers up and down your dripping slit, over your slick labia. Then you push your fingers into your mouth and suck the taste of yourself off of them.

"What's in your mouth, baby?" he murmurs. "Don't lie."

"My fingers," you whisper.

"Oh? They get all sticky? Something nice and sweet on them?"

"Uh huh!" You feel drunk, dizzy, and if you don't come soon you're going to lose your mind.

He licks his hand and grips his cock again. Gives it several rough tugs before settling in for a slow, easy stroke. "I'd love to taste something sticky and sweet," he says. "Something soft and pink."

He smirks at the sound of your little whimper. Fuckin A he wants you. "Bet you have somethin' like that," he murmurs. "Bet it's just for me."

"Uh huh. A nice yummy snack." You circle your fingers around your clit and bite hard on your lip. "You have anything for me?"

"Oh yeah," he breathes. He strokes faster. "God do I have somethin' for you."

"Good," you say as you wiggle your hips and thrust two fingers into your cunt. "I want it, Eddie. Want to—want—to help you with your—bonds."

"Yeah," he grunts. "Molecules and shit."

"Periodic table!" you gasp as you fuck yourself. You squeeze the phone between your shoulder and chin so you can use your other hand on your clit.

"Gonna study so hard," he says. He's bucking his hips, fucking up into his hand, squeezing his shaft and stroking over the head in desperation. "So fuckin' hard, princess."

"Good! That's so good, so good, Eddie! Love it when you study hard, love it when you're such a good student for me!" You can't hold back a whine as you circle your clit. You're close, so fucking close.

"Gonna ace that test just for you. Make a big fat A just for my pretty little tutor." He's gonna explode any second. "Gonna—fuck—you're so fuckin' good!"

"Eddie! Love that, so proud, so good!!" You come hard, nearly drop the phone, moaning and whimpering with shaking thighs and throbbing cunt.

"Fuck!" he gasps and can't hold back another second. He makes a mess, painting his tummy with hot, thick come and whimpering your name over and over.

You're both quiet except for your rough panting. You lick your fingers clean and clear your throat. He grabs a towel and dabs at his stomach.

"So," you finally say. "See you at school tomorrow?"

"Yep. You want a ride?"

"No, Nancy'll take me. But if I could get a ride to your place?"

"Sure, no prob. Then I'll run you home in time for dinner. After the tutoring."

"Such a nice boy. Goodnight, Eddie."

"Night, princess. Sweet dreams."

"You too," you say, then hang up. You fall back against your pillows with a soft groan. Okay well THAT was a thing. An incredibly hot, delicious, amazing thing. You get up to grab fresh panties and head to the bathroom. You think maybe now you'll be able to sleep like a baby.

You only see Eddie in passing until school's over the next day. You're standing outside talking to Nancy when he cruises up. He stubs out his cigarette and grins. "Hey, Nancy. Hey, you ready to go?" he says to you.

"Yep. Got your chem book?"

He pulls his book bag around and pats it. "Plus a notebook and THREE pens. I'm as prepared as a goddamn Boy Scout!"

You can't help but giggle. "Come on, Foz. Let's see how much covalent bond info we can shove into that brain of yours before the clock strikes 6:30." You wave at Nancy, who's grinning like the cat who ate the canary, and follow Eddie to his van.

He opens the door for you, as always, then hurries around to his side and jumps in. "I picked up some Diet Coke," he says. "I know that's your drink."

"Yeah, it is. Thanks."

"Sure. I also, uh. Cleaned up a little. Wayne and I aren't the neatest pair."

He seems nervous. You reach over and give his skinny thigh a little squeeze. "It's okay, Grove. I'm sure you did great. I'll be there to tutor you, not critique your interior decor."

"Right!" he says. He gives you a quick grin. "And I really do need to pass this test."

"You will," you say. You pat his leg and pull your hand back. "It's next week, right? We can study today and maybe sometime over the weekend. I know you've got Hellfire tomorrow."

"You know I wasn't bullshitting when I asked you to join. You can, if you want. We'd love another member."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Your mouth quirks. "Do I get a shirt?"

"I've got one at my place I can give you. It's clean and everything!"

"Oooo, you spoil me!" You grin at each other before his eyes flick back to the road. "Sure, I'll come check it out," you say. "I play a high elf healer. Rhiannon. After the Fleetwood Mac song."

You wait for some judgmental or snide comment, but he just nods. "Pretty good band," he finally says.

"Wow. How much did that cost you?"

He lets out a rusty breath. "A lot, babe. Not gonna lie. That one was hard. Though it coulda been worse."

You giggle and settle back in your seat. "I'm proud of you."

You chat casually the rest of the ride, almost like friends. Neither of you mentions last night. It's like it never happened. Part of you wonders if he regrets it, but you decide that no, he's just waiting for you to bring it up first. He doesn't want to pressure you since you made "no touching, no kissing, no bullshit" your very clear rule for this thing you two have going.

Last night definitely counts as "bullshit."

You get to his place and he grabs a can of root beer and a can of Diet Coke from the fridge before leading you back to his room. You take a moment to study his posters (it's only fair; he's seen yours) and notice the fact that there are clean sheets on his bed. Wow, he really did clean up.

"Have a seat," he says. "Sorry I don't have a desk or anything."

"It's okay," you say and drop down onto his bed. "I think I can handle it." You kick off your shoes and scoot back, dragging your backpack with you.

He hesitates a moment before climbing up next to you so that you're sitting side by side against the headboard. "Okay, um. Chapter 3," he says as he pulls out his textbook.

You grab your book and notebook and flip open to the relevant chemistry notes. "Okay, first you explain to me what covalent bonds are."

His forehead creases and he haltingly explains the concept. He actually has it down pretty well.

You get through bonds quickly and move on to other topics on the test, and before you know it two hours have passed.

"Shit," he says with a glance at his watch. He scrubs his face with both hands. "My brain hurts."

You pat his head, grinning. "Poor brain. Needs a break, I think."

"Uh huh. Want a snack? I can make some popcorn."

"Yeah, that'd be good. We can quit for the day, if you want. Put a movie on for our last few hours. There's a point of diminishing returns with all this."

His eyes crinkle as he smiles at you. "You were readin' my mind, princess. Movies are stored under there," he says, pointing. "Pick one out while I go make the popcorn."

He hops up and you crawl off the bed to check out his movie collection. Slashers and porn. Porn and slashers. Hm. Nothing super surprising, except maybe The Never-Ending Story. But that's a classic.

Since it's only a few weeks away, you decide on Halloween and push the tape into the VCR. You pause it and put your books away before settling back on his bed.

He comes back with a huge bowl of popcorn and two fresh sodas. "Hey," he says. "What'd you pick?"

"Debbie Does Dallas," you say, straight-faced.

"What? That's not even—" He scowls as he catches on. "Very funny. Jerk."

"That's a lot of porn, Munson."

He shrugs and plops down beside you. "I'm a growing boy. I have needs."

"Uh huh. For tits and serial killers, apparently."

"Nothin' wrong with tits. And serial killers are built into the fabric of American society. Did you know there's something like 50 serial killers active in the US at any given time?"

You look at him, wide-eyed. "Are you serious?"

"Yep. And, I mean, Hawkins is...well."

"Weird," you say.

"To put it mildly. Anyway, the horror movies are kind of an escape. They're so ridiculous." He hits play on the remote. "Take this one, for instance," he says, recognizing the opening credits. "How many different ways does Michael Myers die in just this one movie? But he always comes back."

You reach for some popcorn and munch on it thoughtfully. "The futility of fighting against the inevitable existential pull of 20th-century ennui?" you say.

"Yeah, that, and also you can't trust in institutions. The cops are rarely helpful in slasher movies. The government or anyone like that never is."

"Adults aren't usually at all. Kids and teenagers have to fight the monster."

"Exactly. Kids at summer camp, kids having nightmares, kids babysitting. At the end of the day you can only trust your friends to have your back, and even then they might get stabbed," he says. His expression is intense, his eyes big and bright, and you realize you could sit here and talk movies with him all afternoon.

You lean over, grab his shirt, and pull him in for a kiss. He sits back in surprise. "What was that for?"

"Nothing. Continue."

His mouth opens. Closes. Opens again. "I lost my train of thought."

"Oh," you say. You take the bowl of popcorn and set it aside. "Oops." You crawl into his lap and push him back against the headboard with one hand and grip his hair with the other. He stares up at you, astounded, and his big eyes flutter closed as you lean down to kiss him again.

"So," you murmur between kisses. "Do anything fun last night?"

His hands run up and down your back and he nips at your lips with his. "Chatted on the phone with this hot girl I know."

"Lucky girl." You pull his chin up and kiss him hungrily, your tongue sliding into his mouth. He moans and moves his to meet it. His hands go still as he hangs onto you and you slowly start to rock against him.

"Don't get hard," you breathe against his mouth.

He lets out a stuttering laugh. "I'm only human, babe. You doing—that—is gonna lead to a hard dick every time."

"Mmmm I should stop, then. We have a movie to watch."

He bites your lower lip. Tugs. "Whatever you want, princess. I am at your service."

Oh. You like that. "Hm," you say as you slide off his lap. "Maybe if you're a good boy I'll suck your cock during the movie."

He sits up. "I'll be good! I swear! So good! The best!"

You giggle and kiss his cheek. "Watch the movie, sweet boy. I guarantee you'll enjoy it."

#eddie munson #eddie munson/reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #stfic #fic #emfic #meg wrote this

[navstuffs]

omg you write for rob pat? if youre okay with it, could i request a rob x gn (gender neutral) reader? the plot is that he and reader are costars on a movie where theres a love triangle. reader is the one that doesnt get chosen by the main guy (rob) but the directors keep needing to cut because every scene they have together, the tension between them is too strong

i think it would be cute? if you like the idea ofc☺

Tension

Pairing: Robert Pattinson x gn!Reader

Warning: none

Summary: You finally get hired to a big production. You are worried your chemistry with your co-star Robert Pattinson might ruin it all.

Author's note: i love the idea! usually when i write gender-neutral i write in second person cause it gives that more personal feeling, in my opinion. idk anything about acting as well so i apologize for any mistakes on the topic. emilia clarke is your friend in this <3 just a little guide: alex = reader, leo = robert, ripley = emilia. marc mckaney is an oc.

When you were hired to Marc McKaney's new romantic movie project, you were thrilled. Marc was a big name in the industry and working with him meant one or two awards for the production, usually. You were even more excited when you heard Robert Pattinson and Emilia Clarke were going to be your costars. You knew Emilia during your two seasons in Game of Thrones. You didn't know a lot about Robert although having friends in common with him.

Filming began two months later. You played Alex, best friends with Ripley, portrayed by Emilia Clarke. Ripley and Alex fell in love with the new handsome guy in town Leo, played by Robert. The best friends would start a competition over Leo's heart which would make their friendship eventually fall apart. Leo would choose Ripley in the end, compelling Alex to leave town.

What no one in the crew, or you, or Robert could have predicted was the insane amount of chemistry you would have with Robert Pattinson. From the beginning, you knew your character wouldn't end with his, but that didn't stop you and Robert from getting along very well, transporting that to your characters. You heard from a producer that Marc was a little upset that you and Robert had bigger chemistry than the main couple.

Like in the first scenes Ripley and Alex met Leo. Leo was meant to have fallen in love with Ripley right there but he and Emilia looked just okay together? Now during scenes with Alex, your character, it was like it was almost meant to be. Everyone could feel the intensity. Leo looked much more relaxed and better on Alex's side. His eyes were supposed to be "shining with love" when they looked at Emilia's character, but they only did towards you. Marc had to scream multiple times "CUT", adjusting scenes every time it got too intense between Alex and Leo.

Or when Robert completely forgot his lines when Alex was flirting with him during a bar scene. Alex started giving a lap dance into Leo's lap and you could feel Robert's fingers tighten up in your waist as you danced against his thigh. You looked over your shoulder to catch his blue eyes burn with lust. That wasn't exactly how it was on the script.

"CUT!"

Marc's voice was loud and he sounded a bit annoyed. He came walking towards you and Robert, scratching his chin.

"What am I going to do with you two? Rob, are you okay? I know (Y/N)'s acting is pretty impressionable, but you gotta stay with us. And (Y/N), good work. Too much of a good work that Robert can't take his eyes off you."

You laughed, nervously, glancing rapidly at Robert. He seemed to be blushing a little, getting a wink from the director before they tried the scene again.

But nothing, nothing would compare to when you two kissed.

It was during Alex's last attempt on convincing Leo about their love. Leo would reject Alex, saying since the beginning he only had eyes on Ripley. You prepared yourself mentally for that scene, not that would be hard since you got dumped a lot of times. Just use the experience from your teenage years and you would do fine.

"ACTION!"

Alex held onto Leo's arm not letting him leave the apartment. They gazed at each other for a long second, Alex's eyes filled with hope and desperation. They couldn't let Leo just go like this, let him leave like this.

"Stay with me, please? Please?" Alex started bringing Leo's body close to theirs, involving him with their arms.

Their mouths got close to each other and you could feel Robert's anxious breath against yours. In the original script, Leo was supposed to push you away at the moment of the kiss and leave, but it seemed Robert was going to try to improvise. Your heartbeat was fast as his mouth finally touched yours and you kissed him back. There was no sound coming from the crew as you and Robert shared a kiss for a long minute, before breaking apart. You gasped for air, his forehead still touching yours and you saw so much desire in his blue eyes.

"...and cut?"

You had completely forgotten about the crew and so did Robert. Getting away quickly from his arms, your heart still beating fast, you searched for Marc's astonished face as the rest of the shocked crew.

"Mhm, what was that, guys? Rob?"

"Just thought Leo would want to try with Alex, one time before he chose Ripley."

"Ooooooookay?! I think we need to take five, everyone?" Marc suggested waking up the rest of the filming team.

You saw yourself being surrounded by the make-up team, not having a chance to talk with Robert about what just happened. He didn't look in your direction as well or tried to repeat the kiss that day.

-x-

"So he kissed you? Like a big kiss?"

"I'm telling Emilia, he kissed me and said was improvisation."

You and Emilia were talking in your dressing room. You had texted for help the night before after the events from yesterday. You knew something was going on between you and Rob but you also knew you needed to keep it professional. And since Emilia was an experienced actress and she had your entire trust, you called for help. She arrived with your favorite cup of coffee, vibrating with the news.

"But you liked it?" Emilia teased you.

"Em!"

"No, I am asking because everyone has noticed: Rob has a crush on you."

"It is not that!"

"Then what is it then?"

You didn't want to mess up your big chance. After years in the industry, you finally got a prominent role that could open more doors for you. Robert was handsome and you couldn't deny you also felt an attraction for him, but you didn't want to lose focus.

"Look (Y/N), I don't want you to feel pressured about this. You have to do what you want and feel is best, my friend. I will support you no matter what."

-x-

You passed the rest of the day very distracted. Robert didn't talk with you except for a hello although having a full day of scenes with him and Ripley. The crew didn't talk about what happened the day before. Marc was satisfied with your preoccupied expression when Leo told Alex that he chose Ripley. Alex would leave, with tears on their eyes, without looking back. Ripley would try contacting Alex and they would only be mentioned at the end of the movie: a card congratulating Leo and Ripley for their engagement.

It took you a few times doing the last scene since you had to look into Robert's eyes and you simply couldn't on your first takes. Rob's body was too tense on those takes, making Marc scream "CUT!" at least five different times until you and Rob got the hang of things. Every time you stared into his eyes, you would remember the kiss. You needed to control yourself. The director didn't tease you or him this time, wrapping the scene up after numerous repetitions.

"Good job, everyone! Good work!" Marc announced, applauding, coming in your direction for a hug. He went next to Robert, giving him a few taps in the back before an assistant called his attention.

Robert started making his way towards the exit when you caught up to him.

"Can I walk with you until your dressing room, Robert?"

"Yes (Y/N). We need to talk."

The walk to his dressing room was silent, at first. You had your hands in your pockets, looking ahead. Robert spoke, uncertain:

"Look about the kiss, I am sorry. I don't know what came to me. I thought it was what Leo would have wanted."

"What Leo would have wanted or what you would have wanted?" you tested, unsure. Robert passed his hands on his blonde hair, making it even messier.

"I guess you are right. I am sorry. I shouldn't have. Especially since you don't feel the same."

"Who says I don't feel the same?"

"If you do, you have been better at hiding than me." Robert confessed, a half-smirk on his lips.

"And I kissed you back, didn't I?" You taunted. Robert stopped in his tracks to stare at you. "Look, I am not popular as you and Em. I just want to make sure I don't fuck it up with anything in this. You as well. Maybe, if we can start slowly, getting to know each other? A cup of coffee?"

"I would love that."

Taglist: @uwiuwi

MASTERLIST | TAGLIST

#robert pattinson x reader #robert pattinson x you #robert pattinson x y/n #robert pattinson fanfic #robert pattinson fanfics #robert pattinson fic #robert pattinson imagine #robert pattinson #robert pattinson imagines #I HOPE YOU LIKE IT #I HAD A VERSION OF THIS FANFIC AND I HAD TO REWRITE COMPLETELY IT WAS DRIVING ME CRAY CRAY #again i apologize for the bad title and ending #those are part of me now it seems #BUT I WILL GET BETTER YES #again thank you for your request #asks #requests

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

if I can never give you peace — two || Jungkook

Pairing: Jungkook x reader // Word count (chapter): 5.8k // Genre: Mafia AU, Hybrid AU, enemies to lovers // Ao3

↳ It starts like quite a few stories do, in your world. Girl meets boy, who happens to be a hybrid, girl buys him at an auction where hybrids are sold, boy falls in love with her, girl gets bored of him. Then it’s not so typical anymore, when the boy ends up forced into illegal fighting rings, until he makes a wrong move and the girl’s father decides he needs to be killed.

Where does that leave you? Well, you’re the one who handled Jungkook’s fight and generally organized his life, and, when the girl’s father, your boss and mafia leader, tells you he wants him ‘put down’, you’re the one who has to get it done. Except, instead, you let him escape, and everything turns out fine.

Until he comes back.

Warnings and tags (chapter): Descriptions of violence, Threats, kind of dark in general

First · Previous · Next

The car is late, you think as you smooth over the fabric of your skirt, your mouth twisted in a disapproving scowl. Annoyance is one of the few emotions that ever appear on your face, and you don’t even bother to hide it. You have only been standing there, waiting, for a few minutes, but it already disrupts your perfectly well-oiled routine. This is just one of the many changes that have come with Jungkook taking over, but it could be the one you are the least fond of.

You used to have the routine down to a T. You knew exactly when to leave your apartment so that the car would stop in front of you right as you reached the pavement. There were small hiccups every now and then — traffic, last-minute phone calls —, but most of the time, it went perfectly. You liked that. Having that kind of control, when your life had always been completely out of your hands, was comforting.

That went out the window the day you started working for Jungkook.

When the car stops in front of you, five minutes, that’s three-hundred seconds, after the agreed-upon time, you take a short breath before opening the door and stepping in.

There, of course, is your new boss, sitting with his legs widely spread on the leather seat. He changed your discreet sedan for a limousine, which you find obnoxious, but you didn’t protest. You liked to think that you were better than that at picking your battles

“Mr. Jeon,” you say with a nod, voice even.

Jungkook grins when you call him that. You know he enjoys the title, the power it indicates, particularly since hybrids are supposed to only ever have the same last name as their owners.

“Lot of work to be done today,” he comments, and you know he’s just saying that to rile you up. You used to report to Mr. X, but you worked on your own more often than not. Now, you’re basically Jungkook’s glorified secretary. You wouldn’t particularly mind the change if it didn’t mean that you had to sit and watch him superbly ignore your carefully crafted schedule, as he had every single day for the past week.

“Indeed,” you reply without batting an eyelid. “This morning, you have a meeting with Suga,” this one he should go to, he never misses them, “then you are supposed to eat with Fred Lucas,” chances were he wouldn’t show up to that and make you take him to a fancy restaurant instead, and you would be the one to have to handle the situation with him, “and later today I think it would be important for you to pay a visit to the Mystery Room.” That place was one of the few legal aspects of the business at the moment, if you ignore the drugs that get sold there, and it was not a location you should lose right now. “They have been quite… difficult, since the change in direction.”

That last one is new, and you’re not sure how Jungkook will react to it. Of course, there is plenty more work to do, but you’re trying out new methods to get him to do at least what really matters. You don’t understand why he would hire you if he doesn’t let you do your job, but hey, at least you’re alive. And so is your family.

You don’t know how long that will last, though. Unless Jungkook seriously gets his act together, it won’t take long for someone to think that they can do the same thing he did, and have him murdered. You’re even mildly surprised it hasn’t happened yet. That’s the thing, when a leader gets killed. It weakens the whole structure, and it gives people ideas.

The grin disappears from Jungkook’s face and he nods gravely at that last piece of information. That catches your eye, because it’s new. You tell yourself that maybe, just maybe, he spent the last week riding the high of his victory against Mr. X, and that he will be efficient if there’s trouble, at least.

“Cancel that second thing,” he says. “I want to eat at that restaurant I went to last week. You should get me a reservation there.”

Or not.

“But you can go meet him,” he adds, and you blink.

“Mr. Lucas is expecting to see you,” you say, in case you weren’t clear.

“And he doesn’t get to demand my presence like that,” Jungkook snaps. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from wincing. His voice sounds harsh, cutting. Dangerous. “Did he think that I’d go ask for treats because a human joined us? That’s not how that shit works.”

Okay. He’s not wrong here, but you don’t know about this— approachto the situation. Fred is, indeed, one of the two human leaders who decided to immediately join Jungkook when the news of the death of Mr. X and the uprising of hybrids in various parts of your branches in the city spread. You wouldn’t be surprised if he expected a treatment of favor for that, too, but you’re not sure letting him know how little his gesture was appreciated was the way to go.

“I don’t think—”

“He’s replaceable,” Jungkook says with a dismissive movement of the wrist. “I’ll swap him for one of my men the second he makes a mistake. It would be a lot better if no one forgot that.”

The look he gives you makes his message crystal clear. You feel your mouth getting dry, but you know nothing is showing in your expression, and that at least is a relief.

“I’ll go to the meeting and get you your reservation, then,” you say, pulling out your phone. “Does the rest of the schedule work for you?”

Jungkook frowns, and the tiniest feeling of satisfaction spreads in your chest. You know he’s just applying pressure and waiting for you to crack, but you won’t.You’re used to contorting yourself to please everyone. You’ve made it work for years, and it will take much more than those childish games for you to snap.

Or, at least, that’s what you’ve been telling yourself for the past week.

“Fine.” Then he closes his eyes and leans back in the seat. You raise an eyebrow at the sight. You know it’s not because he trusts you, but because he doesn’t think you have the guts to do anything to him — and because, even if you did, he’s pretty confident he wouldn’t have any trouble stopping you. You hate that you find something endearing in that vision. Jungkook was genetically designed to be handsome, and he is.More than that, though, when you look at him right now, even though his long bunny ears are skillfully hidden under a headband, he looks cute.

And he could — and would — take less than a second to snap your neck.

“This afternoon should be fun at least,” he mumbles under his breath, and you hide your grimace.

Shit. That can’t be good.

It’s been clear to you from the very first day that Suga knows exactly what he is doing. It’s also been clear that this isn’t his scene. Being at the forefront of operations, taking the lead — it’s obvious that he would much rather stay in the shadows. You’re not sure how important he was to Jungkook’s organization before, since no one has bothered trying to inform you of that, but you suspect that he’s usually more the type to be in the field.

Right now, though, he’s standing in front of a small group, exposing what the recent developments have been. Sitting behind Jungkook, you listen to him attentively. Those reunions should become less frequent, but right now things could still change completely, and you cannot afford to be taken by surprise.

You are, however, starting to feel less and less comfortable with the fact that nothing seems to be coming out of them. Sure, Yoongi informs you of the people who have sided with Jungkook and of those who are openly opposed to him — a minority, so far — but there is a large group in between that seems to be in no hurry to take position. And you don’t like it.

It hasn’t been long since Jungkook has taken over, but you should at least have gotten someintel by now. You’re not sure what isn’t working here. For now, you don’t want to risk provoking anyone by offering your services. Worry is starting to gnaw at you, though. You could all be driving into a dead-end street at full speed, and that stupid struggle you’re having with Jungkook just isn't worth dying over.

“So not much has changed,” Jungkook comments, tapping his fingers onto the table. He looks nonchalant, but you notice a muscle in his jaw twitching. You wonder if he understands more than he lets on.

“Things have been stagnant,” Yoongi admits without batting an eye. “There hasn’t been any open rebellion, but communication is lacking.”

“That needs to get better.”

“We’re working on it.”

They probably are, but it doesn’t look like that’s going well. Word has reached your ears that some of the branches have been keeping hybrids at bay as discreetly as possible.

“What about that Mystery Room thing?” Jungkook asks, frowning. “What’s going on over there?”

“The what?” Yoongi frowns.

Jungkook looks puzzled — pissed, actually — for a second, then glances at you over his shoulder, and the attention of the whole room suddenly shifts to you. You straighten your back, swallow.

“The owner of the bar has missed a payment to us,” you state calmly, “and it seems that he has no intention of making it and is trying to get out of his contract with us. It would be better if we didn’t lose it right now.”

“What do you mean, ‘it seems’?” Yoongi asks, narrowing his golden eyes at you. His voice sounds more like a hiss, and this time, you struggle to hide your reaction. You haven’t forgotten what it felt like, when you thought he was going to kill you. It’s affected you more than you’d like to admit.

“I have a contact who—”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, and you close your mouth.

“I’m going there today,” Jungkook informs him, and Yoongi nods.

“I’ll be around.”

The two men have a silent exchange of looks. Their relationship is somewhat atypical, not something Mr. X had with anyone. It looks like they genuinely rely on and trust each other. You suppose someone else would find it touching, but you don’t have it in yourself. Especially not when that means they both have it out for you.

“Haven’t you been following what we’ve been talking about here for the past week?” Jungkook snarks at you, and you blink. “Any information you get from now on needs to get to Suga so he can factor it in.” At that, you give him a disbelieving look. That just won’t work. It can’t. Not for the first time, you wonder how much he underestimates you, exactly. If he knew anything about the way you work, about how many contacts you have and how much information you’re usually juggling with, he would never ask that of you.

Yet you nod. You don’t know yet if you’ll send a believable amount of intel to Suga, or just absolutely drown him under it until they tell you to stop, but once more, this just isn’t worth fighting over.

Especially when fighting over something can so easily mean dying over it, in your current situation.

“Will do, Mr. Jeon.”

He looks displeased, and you know it’s because all he’s waiting for is for you to slip.

“I shouldn’t even bring you to these meetings. You’re not even taking any notes. That’s fucking useless.”

It takes everything in you to bite back a scoff at that. You could tell him you don’t need to take notes when Yoongi is talking about minimal changes in a landscape you know on the tip of your fingers, that maybe you would if he said anything of value, and that this wouldn’t be an issue if people actually feared him.

You marvel at how annoyed that quip makes you. You suppose you don’t like it when your competence is questioned. You don’t like the threat either, though. You don’t want to risk falling out of the loop.

“I’ve gotten you a reservation at that restaurant,” you say. “If things are done here, I’ll be on my way to meet Mr. Lucas.”

Changing the subject. Deflecting. Trying your best to live to see another day. It seems like it’s all you’ve been doing for the past week. You know you can keep it up for a long time, you’re patient enough. You also know that this game is set up to make you lose.

Right now, as Jungkook looks at you, clearly not amused by your attitude, there is a terrifying moment during which you fear that he might just drop the charade. The only point of this whole thing is to get rid of you. He could decide he only wants to do that any second.

“Yeah, right. Be on your way.”

He dismisses you like you’re some low lackey, but that, at least, isn’t anything new, and you know how to handle it. You bow politely, then exit the room.

“You really wanna keep her around?” Yoongi asks once you’re gone, and Jungkook groans.

He doesn’t know why he had expected you to break easily. He’d seen you work for Mr. X, do that same shit he makes you do and survive as long as you had, so he should have known you’d be good at it. He supposes he’d been used to you making decisions for him, back then, and had thought that was a normal thing for you, that you wouldn’t enjoy being in the position of taking orders. But you were, after all, just someone who worked for others that whole time.

Not that he gives a fuck about it. He couldn’t care less why you did the things you did. All he wants is to give you a taste of your own medicine. Dangling a false chance of survival in front of your eyes and let you handle the rest yourself. So as long as you push through… well. He’ll let it slide.

It’s not like you can keep doing it forever anyway.

Fred Lucas worries you. He’s always smiled too widely, been too loud, made too many jokes. You know Mr. X considered him to be some sort of buffoon, but also kept his distance from him. Mr. X didn’t like people who pretended to wear their hearts on their sleeves.

“Always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N),” he greets you warmly when you walk up to him and you give him a nod. If he’s upset that Jungkook isn’t there, he doesn’t show it, just like you don’t show your distaste for his use of your first name. “I’d like to discuss with just you, though,” he adds, eyeing Hector, who’s standing beside you. The fact that you still have him by your side is the only good thing that has come from working for Jungkook so far.

You don’t like that. You’re all too aware of the fact that this is his land, and that the only reason why he’s saying that is that Hector is a hybrid. If that gets back to Jungkook, it wouldn’t be good for Fred — but you don’t think he’ll go down without a fight. You glance at Hector, who looks as placid as always and offers no help. The gears in your head are turning fast. Before, you were protected by how indispensable you were considered by Mr. X. That is clearly not the case anymore, but Fred likely isn’t aware of that. Yet.

On the other hand, sending Hector away would show weakness, and you can’t afford that.

“Hector goes where I go,” you say.

Fred’s smile widens even more.

“Of course, of course, can’t trust anyone those days, can you?”

You wonder if it’s a jab at you and how quickly you changed sides, but he is more or less in the same position, so you could just be paranoid.

“Come on, come on in, let’s get ourselves a drink.”

You don’t want a drink, but you do follow him in. The sooner you do that, the sooner you will be out of here.

Fred has a lot of things to say. Most of it isn’t relevant to anything that is happening right now, but you’ve never been able to tune things out. You always worry you’ll miss an essential piece of information. So you listen as he babbles about his business — getting weapons in and out of the city, something he is decently good at — but also about his family, his friendships, and his favorite kind of alcohol. You let him pour you a glass, even if you have no intention of touching it.

“I hear you,” you manage to interrupt him, “but I am curious to know why you wanted a meeting with Mr. Jeon. It seems to me that you have the situation here under control.”

Flattery has always worked on Fred, and you have no issue in using that against him.

“Of course we do,” he gloats. “It’s just— There are a lot of rumorsfloating around those days, you know?”

You do know. You suspect Fred has heard the same things as you. You also suspect most people have been very careful not to let those things reach Yoongi’s ears.

“People are talking about a ‘human opposition’ forming,” Fred gasps dramatically. “Can you believe it? Some people are really not happy about being led by a hybrid.”

That seems to be more concrete than what you’ve heard, which means that Fred could be exaggerating things… or that he was contacted to join that opposition. And you don’t like that second possibility, not at all. You trust Fred about as far as you can throw him, and that means you certainly don’t trust him to not try and play both sides.

“That was to be expected,” you reply calmly. “I do not doubt that Mr. Jeon knew such a reaction was coming.”

Fred narrows his eyes at you, trying to gauge what you knew then and what you know now. Which isn’t much, but that’s not something you plan to let slip out.

“Do you know of anything specific?”

You see from the glint in Fred’s eyes that he knows the game is on. If you know something and he doesn’t tell you, he will look suspicious, but he could also reveal too much, and you doubt he wants to play his cards so soon.

“I— don’t, unfortunately,” he finally says, and you nod. Either he hasn’t heard of the Mystery Room, or he is voluntarily hiding it from you. Regardless, that limits how useful he is to you. “But the word on the street is that Jungkook may not know what he’s doing all that well.”

You send him a sharp glance. He’s taking a risk in telling you that, you both know it. That doesn’t make the information any less precious.

“I see. And, again, I don’t suppose you know where this— ‘word on the street’ is coming from?”

He shrugs, a true picture of innocence, and maybe you’d have believed it if Fred hadn’t been in the business for longer than you. He knew, he just wasn’t telling because he wanted to preserve his opportunities if something happened.

“I have to go, then. Thank you for the drink, Mr. Lucas.”

“Please,” he says, holding out his hand. “Call me Fred.”

That won’t be happening.

“Goodbye, Mr. Lucas.”

Once you’re out, you take a second to collect yourself, Hector following like a shadow and waiting for you silently.

“Is everything okay?” he asks after you’ve mulled over the conversation that just happened for several minutes.

“It’s fine,” you say as a reflex. You couldn’t stop thinking about how Fred had taken a gamble when he’d proclaimed his allegiance to Jungkook. He’d bet on him coming out on top, and yet you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t think of a reason why he would do that instead of carefully waiting to see how things would go, like everyone else. You didn’t like this. Not one bit. “We need to get to Mystery Room,” you add.

“Of course,” Hector nods, gesturing towards the limo, and you don’t bother repressing a groan this time.

“God. That’s so tacky.”

That brings a smile to Hector’s lips, but you don’t smile back. You never do. Instead, you climb in, roll your eyes at the whole thing, and let yourself be driven away. You can’t come to a conclusion about Fred Lucas just yet, but you have no intention of forgetting about him either.

It takes you a few seconds, once you’re out of the car, to understand that something isn’t right. You’ve never been good with feelings — instincts, as hybrids call them — and the air doesn’t feel particularly tense or charged to you. Hector stands a little close to you for comfort, and you piece things together from there. There are a few cars around, but not too many, which isn’t surprising considering it’s the middle of the afternoon. Still, you can hear voices from inside, and you know there’s an argument going on there.

“Let’s go,” you say with a decided nod, and Hector leads the way, shoulders tense, ready to pounce if needed. You trust him to do his job, and that’s a lot, coming from you.

You frown when you walk into the bar, taking a few seconds to let your eyes get adjusted to the lack of luminosity, and that frown only deepens when you hear the argument going on and recognize Jungkook’s voice. God. The concepts of subtlety and discretion are completely lost on him, aren’t they?

Making your way through the room, you try to evaluate the situation. Yoongi is leaning against a table, looking bored out of his mind, though you’re sure he doesn’t miss anything from what is going on in the room. As if to prove your point, his golden eyes flick towards you for a second when you approach, before looking away, clearly uninterested. Other than him, it seems that the only other people present are the owner and various employees. You think it’s stupid and dangerous that they showed up here basically alone but, for the millionth time today, you grit your teeth and don’t say anything.

There are five men around, including the bouncer and a security guard. They’re probably armed, and that’s to say nothing of anyone you cannot see. Outside of Yoongi, though, no one pays attention to you, not until the bartender asks loudly “Mojito, as usual, Miss (L/N)?”

It’s a bit early for that, actually, but you give him a nod. The Mystery Room isn’t quite your scene — you’ve always been one to prefer classy restaurants — but that doesn’t change the fact that you’re well-known here, and everywhere, actually, which is something that everyoneknows, except your own boss. That is obvious by the way people’s attitude shifts when they see you. The owner bows to you politely. You acknowledge it with a curt movement of your chin. Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. He doesn’t look happy about it.

You wait until you have your glass in your hand to say something. The silence that fills the room is heavy, and you can feel Jungkook’s anger emanating from him, having lost the men’s attention. He’s the man who murdered Mr. X, took over half of his operations without anyone noticing, and their fucking boss, and they’re still treating him like a low-life hybrid.

“You haven’t been paying what you owe us,” you say, almost lightly, when you get your drink. “Has business been slow?”

You know it has. You know people aren’t too sure what to think of Jungkook yet. You also know they’ve still made money. Better yet, you’re sure the men in the room know youknow that. You’re giving them an obvious way out. All they have to do is say “yes”, and you’ll come up with something. You won’t let them go off scot-free, but there’s no need for this to end in a bloodbath, either.

“That’s not the issue,” the man says, voice raspy, and you don’t let it show, of course you don’t, but you’re still taking the hit. They’re underestimating Jungkook.

This might be the last mistake they make.

“I think it would be better for everyone if we could work through whatever issue there is,” you say slowly.

Better for them, really, especially because this is you giving him a second chance. There won’t be a third one.

“I’m afraid we don’t, uh, approve of the recent change in direction,” he replies, a stupid grin on his face. He’s mocking you and your infamous overly procedural speech. You know people say you can’t accept who you’re working for, that you can’t take the idea of having blood on your hands.

You may not care, but you’re well-aware of it, and you really don’t appreciate him saying that to your face. You’ll have to make an example out of him.

You sigh and shake your head at his answer. You’re not going to enjoy this. You’ve seen people’s attempts at rebellion against Mr. X, even if those were few and far between, and no matter how much of a fight they put up, it never ends well. For them.

You’re prepared to just leave the place and arrange for it to be set on fire during the night, when Jungkook’s voice snaps you out of it.

“What’s your problem with the change in direction, fucker?”

The mood changes immediately. Hector’s hand on your shoulder gently pulls you back, and Yoongi hops off the table to come stand next to Jungkook, hands in his pockets. He looks nonchalant and relaxed. He could probably easily kill everyone in this room and not get a drop of blood on his jacket.

The owner squares his shoulders and walks up to him. He’s slightly taller and much larger than Jungkook.

“Listen, bunny…”

You barely have the time to widen your eyes at the word, to think about all the ways Jungkook has made it clear that he’s not your typical rabbit-hybrid before his right hook connects with the man’s jaw, so fast you would have missed it if you’d blinked.

A moment of stunned silence follows, during which the man stumbles backwards, hand coming to cup his face in disbelief. And then, he seems to decide that it’s a good idea to retaliate. The dozens, hundreds maybe, of fights you’ve seen Jungkook win flash before your eyes. He doesn’t stand a chance.

People start moving around you, but it seems like it’s only a fistfight. No guns are drawn, for now, and you’re reminded of how much you fucking hate watching people fight. You take a step back, bored already at this stupid display of strength and violence. Still, you can’t help it when your eyes are drawn to Jungkook. There’s a— curiosity within you. How much has he truly changed, in the past two years?

For one, he certainly isn’t pretending this time, isn’t trying to make this fight last for a few more rounds. There iscertain showmanship there, though, you note. He’s giving time for the owner to recover while he takes out some of the other men with hits of surgical precision. He wants them to seewhatever he’s going to do to their boss. Hector and Yoongi keep the fight contained, don’t let anyone escape or call for help, but Jungkook doesn’t need their help. No one here is a threat to him, and it doesn’t take long for the men to be on the floor, groaning in pain.

The owner pushes himself up, spits some blood on the floor. Jungkook turns to face him and beckons him closer with a flick of his hand. He looks amused.

“You fucking piece of—”

This time, Jungkook doesn’t go for the head. His fist gets the man in the ribs, and that first punch is followed by dozens of others, not giving the man any respite, not letting him breathe. When the man falls back, Jungkook doesn’t stop, though the hits slow down, based on what you can see and hear. You have to clench your jaw to stop yourself from grimacing at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, of the bones underneath clashing. It was drowned out, back when he fought in a ring, but knowing it was there disgusted you back. You don’t know why, you just hate it. It makes you sick.

When Jungkook finally gets back up, he hasn’t even broken a sweat. There are five men on the ground, clenching different parts of their bodies and crying out in pain, and he isn’t even out of breath.

“You should fucking reconsider,” he spits out.

They won’t have to. This place will be gone soon enough.

His eyes meet yours as he walks out, and his expression turns to a disgusted scowl. It almost draws a scoff out of you, but you hold it in, and instead, you follow him dutifully.

Jungkook doesn’t speak to you in the car, eyes instead on his bloody knuckles. It will heal fast, you know, and that’s probably why he doesn’t bother taking care of it. When the car stops, you look outside and find yourself faced with your own apartment building. It’s not even five in the afternoon yet. You turn around to give your boss a quizzical look.

“You’re not needed anymore,” he shrugs. He doesn’t sound like he’s playing this time, though you’re still sure that he wants to get on your nerves.

You hate that it’s working this time.

“The day isn’t—”

“I think you’ve proved exactly how efficient you are today,” he says, obviously dismissing you. “I have no fucking idea how you got this job.”

You bite your tongue not to reply. You don’t care about the job, you don’t care about his opinion of you, you barely even care about the Family. You should just nod, give him the usual “yes, Mr. Jeon,” and walk out. But something keeps you in place a little longer than it should, and that’s how much you hate jobs that aren’t well done.

Your voice sounds distant to your own ears when you say what you’re supposed to, your body doesn’t feel like your own when you walk out and close the door. Your breathing quickens while you hear the car leave behind you like it’s all happening in a dream, your head spins, and you stand frozen in place, staring right in front of you.

Is this your life now? you wonder, feeling your heart thumping like it’s trying to get out of your chest. Are you going to let yourself be so disposable, so mediocre, let everything you’ve spent years building fall apart? This isn’t the time for pride, you’re well aware of that, but it’s still eating at you inside.

You walk back to your apartment like you’re in a trance. There’s a heavy weight on your chest, and you realize you have to make a choice. If things stay like that, you suppose Jungkook will have your head at some point. This is a fight of patience. One you cannot win. But if you make yourself indispensable, then maybe, maybe you can survive it. You’ve done it once already.

You brush aside the little voice mocking your reasoning, telling you that you’re doing this because you don’t want to lose your status. Not because it’s wrong, but because you know that’s not enough of an incentive for you to take a risk. You need something stronger than that. Even if you know it’s a lie.

That doesn’t stop your hand from trembling as you dial Yoongi’s number. You’re happy there’s no one to see you, because God, you couldn’t take your carefully crafted facade crumbling right now.

“Yes?” he answers quickly. If he’s surprised to hear from you, it doesn’t show.

“What are the plans for the Mystery Room?” you ask, satisfied that your voice doesn’t quiver, even if you’re a mess right now.

There’s a silence at the other end of the line, and you suspect he’s considering not answering you, so you take the initiative.

“You need to at least replace the owner,” you say, kicking off your shoes. “You can convince him to sell to us,” — convince, one of your favorite euphemisms — “or get rid of him and get the place from his family. Burning the place down is also an option. We can’t let what happened slide like that.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi says.

“Also, it would better if Mr. Jeon could avoid fighting with people. The last thing we want is people who think they can challenge him.”

“He can take them.”

“That’s not the issue. If people think they have a chance, they’ll keep trying. We don’t want them to do that.”

Another, longer silence.

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because he’ll listen to you.”

“And you think I will listen to you?”

You roll your eyes. It’s strange, you know you’re gambling your life right now, but the tension you were experiencing earlier has been replaced by an eerie calm. You feel detached from everything.

Maybe you’ve been doing this for too long.

“You don’t have to,” you say, “but this is my job. I’m good at it. If you just let me do it, it would be far more efficient than whatever has been going on for the last week. I know you don’t trust me, but you can probably come to the same conclusions as me in this situation at least.”

Your heart is hammering in your chest. This is an explicit critique, something you would never have risked with Mr. X, and it’s the most open act of defiance that you’ve ever done — and it’s to convince them to let you workfor them.

“We’ll see about that,” he replies dismissively, and your shoulders fall at first, but then he adds, almost reluctantly, “I’ll take what you said into consideration.”

“Good. We also need to talk about tomorrow’s meeting. I’ve gotten some important information about the opposition to Mr. Jeon, and I think—”

As you explain the situation to Yoongi, you feel yourself calming down. Maybe it’s because you’re doing something that’s familiar to you, you’re not sure, but you can breathe again, and that solidifies your conviction that you’re making the right decision.

Finally, you’re ready to take back your life.

Tag list: @chaiwivluv @mintyrae @btswdwsmhrdt @xxquenwxtchxx @fekitza @kimmieloveswho @deeepvibes @lonleycoffee @gookiebts @kpop-baka @taecallsmenoona @mimiinluv @dabbingangels @jooahchu

#jungkook x reader #bts #bts x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook angst #jungkook #jeon jungkook #hybrid jungkook #bts mafia au #bts hybrid au #candywrites #if i can never give you peace

[thatshithurted8]

Marigold

Pairing: JJ x Introvertedreader!!

Summary:In which JJ Maybank pursues the shy and introverted girl he catches checking him out at Midsummers. 

Word Count: 3.1k 

Marigold Masterlist 

A/N: Since you guys loved my last JJ x Introvertedreader fic I decided to write another one with a different idea. I love this concept so much and hope to write more in the future.

The Pogues hated Midsummers. It was the one time every year that Kooks could flaunt their wealth without it seeming like they were bragging. However, they weren’t the only ones who hated it, you hated it as well. Considering your dad was close business partners with Ward Cameron you went every year. You and your family belonged to the country club it was held at, but you weren’t considered a Kook since you lived in a different township.

You sighed walking into the country club with your parents and brother. You were extremely proud of your fathers accomplishments, but socializing with random people drained the energy out of you. You would much rather stay at home chilling in bed while reading a book or watching a movie on netflix. And besides your parents would force you to hang out with Sarah and Wheezie, but you weren’t close with either girl. Weirdly enough though you had a strong friendship with the oldest member of the Cameron siblings, Rafe. Despite your wishes of staying home there you were standing outside of the country club wearing a short white dress that hugged your body before flaring out the bottom, and of course you were wearing a flower crown that consisted of orange and pink marigold flowers.

You stood close to your parents until it got dark out, reading a book on your kindle e-reader. You liked reading hard copies of books, but you felt bad that your parents bought you a kindle and you barely used it. Seeing that tonight you would be forced to talk to people you barely knew bringing your kindle along was a perfect tool for others to not disrupt you. However, through out the night you would still be disrupted from reading to say hi and talk to some of your fathers friends and acquaintances.

Just as you were about to find out who the father of Miranda’s baby was in the book you were reading your kindle dies.

“No no no.” You groan to yourself before putting it in your purse. Of course you forgot the charger at home. It was just great now you had to socialize.

You looked around at your surroundings for the first time that night and you had to admit it looked beautiful with all of the lights and flowers everywhere. It looked a like a scene coming straight out of your books. As you looked around and admired the scenery your eyes land on a blond server in a black tie and vest.

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you feel the butterflies in your stomach erupt in flutters. You’ve never felt that sensation before just by looking at someone.You continue to watch him walk around picking up empty cups and putting them onto the tray he was holding. You have never seen someone so beautiful in your life.

After all of the romance novels you’ve read you’d think flirting would come naturally, but you were too scared to make a move on the attractive server with a cut on his lip and temple. So continuing to check him out until he catches you was your plan on how to shoot your shot.

JJ collects some more empty glasses and is approached by some party goers asking for refills as he does so. However, as he walks around he feels someone’s eyes on him. He places the tray down on a near by table and looks around, his eyes almost instantly meet yours.

Your eyes widen once you realize you’ve been caught, your cheeks heating up once again. You quickly look away, your hand flying down to play with the hem of your dress.

JJ smirks, but is taken aback at the feeling in his stomach when he locked eyes with you. His heart started to beat faster and his stomach fluttered. All he could think about was how beautiful you were and why he hasn’t seen you before.

The Maybank boy picks up the tray, walking back to the bar to discard the dirty glasses, having no intent on getting the Kooks their orders. As he walked away he turned around to glance at you again. JJ smirks to himself again, turning back around when he catches you for the second time that night staring at him. 

You internally scold yourself for looking back at him again right after being caught. Being caught once was embarrassing, but being caught twice was even worse. 

After dropping off the dirty glasses JJ makes it his mission to talk to you and maybe make a move. Clearly you were interested, but you were too shy to make a move. Which is completely fine JJ’s personality would compensate for your shyness.

JJ walks back outside and your eyes instantly lock with his once again. You blush and look away, pretending you weren’t waiting for the cute boy to come back outside. You glance over your shoulder to see if he was still looking at you and he was, but he was also walking in your direction. Oh god he was walking over to you.

“How are you folks tonight? Can I get you guys any drinks?” JJ asks you and your parents once he reaches the tall table you were standing around. His blue eyes scanned over the faces of your family members and their friends before locking eyes with you, his smile becoming brighter, causing your heart to race faster.

“I’ll have a gin and tonic.” Your mom says before turning back to your younger brother that was pestering her for the ipad.

Your dad thinks for a second before ordering a manhattan. You ignore what everyone else orders as you continue to admire the beautiful blond in front of you. Your heart was beating a mile a minute just because of how close in proximity he was to you.

JJ turns his attention to you after writing down everyone’s orders, “And what can I get for you Marigold?” He asks, referencing to the flowers in your hair.

You blush at the sweet nickname and look down at your feet. JJ could’ve sworn everything stopped in that moment and it was just you and him.

“I uh I’ll just have a virgin shirley temple.”

JJ snaps out of his trance of admiring your features and writes down your order. “You know I can get you a normal one. I won’t ask for your ID.” He whispers, stepping closer to you.

You giggle at JJ’s suggestion as he is engulfed by the smell of your perfume and the sound of your laugh. He couldn’t believe how good you smelt and how cute your laugh was.

“No I’m okay thank you though.” You say looking over at your parents and brother to see that they were in a deep conversation with their friends, before looking back to JJ.

“Well Marigold I’ll be right back with your virgin shirley temple.” JJ says winking at you before turning to walk to the bar inside. You watch him walk inside with your cheeks hot and most likely red.

In the meantime of waiting for the cute server to be back with the drinks you look around the country club once again. Your eyes meet familiar ones and you smile when you see Rafe. His eyes soften when they meet yours, but you couldn’t help but notice how tense he looked and how he was clutching the glass in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white.

Despite the loud music the sound of the door of the country club grabs your attention. The butterflies in your stomach erupt once again when you see the blond server with your drinks. JJ almost instantly makes eye contact with you which makes him almost drop some of the drinks. You bite your lip, watching him approach you as you try to stifle your giggles at how cute he was.

JJ makes it to you without dropping any drinks which was an accomplishment considering the prettiest girl he has ever seen was watching him. You watch as JJ hands the drinks to your parents before turning to look at you.

He takes the glass off the tray and puts a napkin under it, “And for you Marigold.” He says putting the tray underneath his arm.

“Thank you.” You say, blushing once again at the nickname.

“Look at the napkin.”

You do as JJ says, placing your drink on the tall table you were standing beside. On the white napkin, written in messy, but legible ink was a phone number.

You look up at the boy in front of you, your cheeks feeling as if they were on fire. You were shocked that he was interested in you too.

“Call me sometime.” He says winking.

Just as you were about to stutter out a sentence two hands were placed on JJ’s chest, pushing him back a bit. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you see that the hands belong to Rafe.

“She won’t be doing that anytime soon.” Rafe says, Topper, Kelce and a few other Kooks standing behind him.

JJ’s eyes widen a bit, not in fear, but in realization that he has been caught. And of course caught by the Kook prince himself, Rafe Cameron.

“Aweh Rafe. Are you still upset that I turned you down? It’s not going to happen man let it go.” JJ jokes, stepping a few steps away causing you to laugh. 

JJ smirks at you, realizing you were laughing which only makes Rafe even more mad. Rafe basically growls at the boy who just gave you his number, before him and his friends start to chase him.

“Ah shit!” JJ yells, dropping the drink tray and running into the country club.

“Rafe stop!” You yell following after the group of boys into the fancy building. People pointed and starred at the scene that was happening causing you to become uncomfortable for being in the spotlight.

You jog down the hall in your flats and groan when you realize the group of teen boys ran into the men’s washroom. You were about to turn around in defeat until you heard Rafe talking, with venom laced in his voice.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for a while JJ Maybank!” He yells, a groan is heard following after. Your brain didn’t have enough time to comprehend what the attractive servers name was before you found yourself in the men’s washroom.

Your blood boils when you see Kelce holding JJ in a choke hold as Rafe got ready to injure the boy again.

“Rafe stop!”

All eyes in the room turn to you, even JJ’s as Kelce turned around to see what you were doing, making you falter at the attention.

You look at JJ’s eyes that looked relieved once seeing you, before looking at Rafe. His eyes soften looking at you and your upset face. The oldest Cameron sibling has always had a thing for you.

“Y/N you shouldn’t be in here.” Rafe says softly. 

Despite being in a choke hold JJ couldn’t stop the feeling of the butterflies in his stomach erupting when he finally learns your name. It was beautiful just like you, but seeing how flustered you got when he called you Marigold boosted his already large ego.

“Rafe you know I don’t like confrontations so please just leave him alone.” 

Topper scoffs, “And he’s supposed to care? This dirty Pogue deserves everything coming his way. Including his dads fists.” 

Your mouth falls open at what Topper says which makes the rest of the Kooks in the room laugh. You look between JJ who was clearly embarrassed and ashamed, then back to Rafe and Topper. This poor boy was being abused by his dad making your heart break for him.

Deciding not to fuel the fire like Topper wanted you to, you try to reason with Rafe again while Kelce struggles to hold JJ in his grasp. 

“Rafe leave him alone. Please.” You say, your eyes pleading with the brunette. You despised confrontation and being center of attention in the situation you currently were in made you anxious, causing your breathing to become labored. 

Rafe bites his lip, deciding what to do. “Kelce stop.” He says. Ultimately because of how visibly upset you were.

Both you and JJ let out a sigh of relief when Kelce obeys Rafe’s orders and pushes him out of his arms causing JJ to stumble over to you. You grab JJ’s arm steadying him while looking at him concerned. Both of your hearts begin to race even faster at the small contact, but JJ makes a bold move and intertwines your hands. While your heart skipped a beat at this, Rafe was seeing red. He wanted to beat JJ to a pulp more than ever.

You send Rafe a pissed off look at his antics of being a bully. You two have had many conversations about him being rude to others and how he needs to stop, but clearly everything you said to him in the past went in one ear and out the other. Just as you were about to walk out of the washroom with JJ the lights flicker.

“Gentlemen.” A security guard says walking into the room. “And lady?” He says once his eyes land on you. 

“Is there a problem in here guys?” 

JJ lets go of your hand and turns to the guard, knowing he was about to get kicked out. You instantly miss the feeling of his calloused hand against your soft one. It was comforting.

“Pardon me, officer. No there is not an issue.” JJ says moving his hair out of his face while looking around the room full of Kooks. “Actually yes there is an issue. We got a criminal trespass in progress here. Beep! Call it in right?” He says, but you bite your lip at how cute he looked trying to find an excuse. Clearly no one was trespassing though. Everyone in the washroom belonged to the club and JJ worked there. It was just Rafe being Rafe and taking his anger out on any Pogue he could find.

“Blatant disrespect for private property. I’m in violation of all kinds of shit sir, but these young gentlemen caught me and were about to escort me away.” The Maybank boy says turning to Kelce and adjusting his tie. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, what did he mean he was in violation? 

The security guard grabs JJ’s arm and yours since you didn’t belong there either and starts to escort you away. 

“Hey safe travels back to the cut! Hopefully next time you have the balls to hit your dad back.” Rafe says causing JJ to jerk away from the guards grip and turn to attack Rafe. However, the guard and other Kooks stop him in time before he could get a hit in. Rafe’s comment only made you more mad at him.

As you and JJ are escorted back outside you were still confused and dumbfounded. You understood why you were being escorted back outside, but why was JJ being kicked out? Was it just because of his social status? 

Once you three were outside the guard removes his strong grip from your arm, but continues to guide JJ away. 

“Hey I can walk myself man.” JJ says as the guard starts to get more and more aggressive with him. By now a bunch of people were watching and were starting to whisper amongst each other. 

As the two walk down the steps of the club you watch JJ grab a drink off of a random table before downing it. His actions only made the guests gossip even more, including your parents, but all you could do was swoon at the boy. Even though you two just met and were basically polar opposites you wanted to get to know him. You wanted to step in and say that you invited him, but the words wouldn’t come out of your mouth. You were afraid of everyone looking at you and being the spectacle of Midsummer. 

Luckily for you though another person steps in. “Let go of him!” A girl you believe to be named Kiara says. 

“You can’t just boot him!” She yells as more people look over at the display that was unfolding. Standing from afar you secretly admire the girls guts for standing up for him, especially in front of so many people. 

You hated being shy and wanted to be as outspoken as her. Every time you thought you were breaking out of your shell you would retreat back inside, becoming too uncomfortable and drained by socializing with so many people all the while putting on an act that you were outgoing. However, tonight was one of those nights where you decided to be your shy and quiet self and yet JJ was still attracted to you. 

“Excuse me ma’am?” The security guard asks. 

“I invited him here. I’m a member of this club.” She says as her parents try to stop her from making a fool of herself. 

You step closer to the railing where Kiara stood and you instantly make eye contact with JJ who was still being held by security. His heart skips a beat and a rush of adrenaline flows through JJ’s veins after making eye contact with you. In an attempt to impress you and to make you laugh JJ turns towards the guard and pushes him into a table, causing the crowd watching to gasp.

As glass shatters on the ground JJ turns and points at Kiara. “Mandatory power hour at Rixon’s, Kie.” He says turning back around to leave before he could get caught by security once again. 

“And that goes for you too Pope.” He says to the boy wearing an apron. 

You and the rest of the crowd of people watch as Kiara’s and Pope’s parents try to stop their kids from running off with the delinquent that just caused a scene at the most anticipated night of the year. However, the two teenagers run after their blond friend who was saluting another boy their age. 

You slowly walk down the porch steps in a trance. You wanted to live like them. To live freely without caring about what others think about you. To be comfortable with speaking to a group of people instead of just a few at a time. Not only did JJ’s looks draw you in, but his ability to live carelessly as well was a factor. 

As the four teenagers reunite they start to run off towards the beach. You continue to watch as they run away, but your heart skips a beat once again when JJ turns around and looks at you. 

“Call me!” He yells while putting a pretend phone up to his ear with his hand before turning back around and running off with his friends.  

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[bqstqnbruin]

But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

Imma be honest I forgot what this last part was supposed to be called aidfjaoisf (also I know I used that gif for another part but c’mon tell me you don’t love it)

ANYWAY I caved and decided to post THE FINAL PART of 10 Things I Hate About You tonight as an ✨early✨ birthday thing for Matty (compromise ?). Thank you to everyone and anyone who has read it and put up with my perpetual being annoying about this but especially a thank you to @fratboytj​ for pretty much writing the poem in this with me and @pucksnsticksnhockeyboys​ @indyfish​ for their help, too, ily 💛

Here we go, y’all. Enjoy the ride!

Read the other parts here:  I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate the way you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call

___________________________

“What? No, I’m not going to-”

“Leave. Now.” 

---------

“Because I love you.”

You take a step back in shock, even Evelina letting out a small gasp before retreating to her bedroom. “You have no right to say that to me,” you tell him, trying not to let him get to you. “You can’t leave me alone for over a week and then just waltz here and say that to me. You couldn’t even pick up the phone when I called you yesterday.” 

He looks at you, completely confused. “You needed space. How is that my fault? You pushed me away at the bar and I came back. You pushed me away in the street and I came back. You pushed me away here and where was I supposed to go? How could I call you when I was afraid you would push me away a third time?” 

“I tried to come back to you. I called you yesterday and you ignored me,” you repeat, your voice getting louder, “If you wanted anything to do with me you would have answered.”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Drop everything any time you call me? I was on the phone with someone else and I called you as soon as I saw you called me, and you didn’t answer me,” the level of his voice matching yours, the flowers he brought you making a mess all over your floor as he angrily waved them around. 

You shake your head, not wanting to tell him that it was because you had blocked him. ‘If it were meant to be, he would have been able to answer when you called,’ you tell yourself. “We’re only meant to be friends, Matthew,” is all you can manage to get out.

“How long are we going to keep dancing around the fact that you and I are meant for each other?” he asks, trying to fight back the tears that he knew were coming. God, if anyone else could see him right now, they would never think he was some NHL enforcer, whatever the hell the media called him. He was just a guy in love, trying to get the girl to understand her feelings for him. 

“How long is it going to take you to understand that I hate so much about you?” you spit out at him, trying to hide the regret you felt as soon as you said it. “If we were meant to be then making that list wouldn’t have been as easy as it was,” you lie. 

“Because we both know that’s not true,” he says, choking back the inevitable sob that was begging to come through as he tries to get closer to you. You weren’t sure what to make of this, you had never seen him this worked up over anything like this before, not to the point of tears, at least. 

“That’s bullshit and you know it,” you lie, trying to stand your ground, trying not to crumble before him. 

“How is it bullshit? Everyone can tell that we’re in love with each other. Everyone but you. There is no one on this planet who knows you better than I know you. There is not one person that is more made for you than I am. There is no one more made for me than you are,” he tries to tell you,  not wanting to let yourself hear his words. 

They stung, no matter how much you didn’t want his words to get to you. Part of you knew he was right, and the other part of you didn’t want to admit it. “So, what, because other people believe it, that automatically means it’s true? I could get any guy and he could be better than you are for me.” 

“Yeah? What names would this other guy call you in bed? Would he know where to touch you? Would he know that right here,” he drops the flowers so he can spin you around, kissing you behind your ear, his lips lingering long enough to pull a moan from your lips, “Is where you melt into me?” 

“No!” you say, pulling his arm from your waist. “You can’t do that to me,” you tell him, tears falling down your face, your voice choked with a sob, “You can’t tell me these things when you’ve been hiding so much from me this entire time.”

“I hid one thing from you,” he insists. “You hide ten things you hated about me. I don’t even care about that at this point. It doesn’t matter if other people think it’s true or not. What matters is that we know it’s true. I love you.”

“Fuck you. Fuck. You. You do not get to tell me that. I can’t even look at you right now, Matthew,” you tell him, trying to think of anywhere you could retreat to when you remember you’re supposed to be downstairs waiting for your boss to show up, Evelina locked in her room to avoid any confrontation that might come from her being a third party. 

“You don’t mean that. You know how you feel about me. Why can’t you just say it?” You look at him, the pain he felt showing on his face. You hated that you were doing this to him, but you hated it more that he was doing this to you. You couldn’t say it to him. You couldn’t lose him because of how you felt about him. 

“You don’t know what I mean, Matthew. Evelina and I have to get going,” you try to go to her room to get her, praying that your boss wasn’t bombarding you with texts on your phone buried in your bag before you had to deal with him.

“That doesn’t even make sense.” 

You whip around to him irritated, that hatred of yourself turning into anger towards him that he kept pushing you when you clearly were already on edge. “Why do I have to make sense? I have not slept. I have barely eaten. I can’t even go five seconds without thinking of your stupid face, hearing your dumb laugh, and just wanting you next to me and knowing that all of that is a bad idea. We are friends Matthew. That is it. That is all we can be.”

“Is that what you want? Why do you keep denying everything?” he asks, his hand warped around your arm, just tight enough that it didn’t hurt, not hard enough that you could easily escape from him. 

You look down at the floor, biting your lip. “Why do you think?” 

“Come on,” he says, his other hand on you, pulling you ever so slightly closer to him. The distance between you was the smallest it had been in a week, you wanting nothing more than to take him in for a hug, kiss him, something that would make this go away. But you couldn’t do that. You couldn’t even answer him. “This right here is our issue!” he snaps, letting go of you. 

You stand there, frozen, hearing Evelina come out of her room. “I don’t care. You need to leave.” 

Matthew stands there, shocked. “What? No. I’m not going to-”

“Leave. Now,” you say, standing firm, grabbing your bags from the floor along with Evelina’s hand. “We have to go, our boss is waiting. Take the pile of shit that’s in Evelina’s room that yours,” you say, looking to her for a nod telling you it was ok. You drag Evelina to the door, her shocked over your entire conversation. “And Matthew?” you ask, a single tear falling from his eye.

“What?”

“Leave your key,” you tell him, your voice cracking as you shut the door and leave him there to collect his things. 

“You just left him in our apartment to go through my room?” Evelina whines as the two of you run to the stairs in hopes that he won’t be able to find you, catch you and cause a scene out on the street.

“You nodded and I took that as it was ok. He’s out of my life and that’s how I want it for now so I don’t care what you think but you need to respect it. No more of this meddling, Evelina. There is no way he would have known to come right before we were leaving unless you told him,” you spit out at her as you sprint down the stairs. You hear her inhale as if she were about to say something, stopping at the landing and turning to her, “I’m not mad. You gave me the chance for a goodbye. A goodbye before we leave for a new city, even though we’re coming back here.” It’s Thomas all over again, but this time, you were the one leaving him.

Evelina nods, taking your hand and leading you outside where the caravan that had your coworkers and boss was already waiting, your boss leaning on the door of the car. “Sorry, I had a slight family emergency that I was trying to deal with. Luckily, though, you planned out plenty of extra time so that we were going to be at the airport about four and a half hours before our flight anyway,” you say, smiling at him, hoping he could hear the sarcasm that was dripping in your voice through the latter half of the sentence.

“Evelina said you couldn’t find something,” he mutters, taking your bags from you as you climb in the car, not sure how to respond to the rest of your obviously sarcastic chipperness.

“That was the emergency,” you lie, “My mom thought I took something with me back here and wanted to catch me before we leave. Don’t worry we found it. It’s right where it belongs,” you say, closing the door as the three of you join the other two, getting ready to finally leave for a few days. 

This was good. This is what you needed. Work would keep you busy, especially considering your boss bought what you were telling him, already changing subjects to talk about the conference and what else he thought the four of you should be doing while you weren’t presenting. The van was about to pull away, seeing the door of your building swing open, Matthew red in the face holding his coat and the key. You swallow hard, not letting yourself start to cry as you pull away, focusing your attention back to your boss even though what he was saying was mundane and trivial to you at this point. 

Matthew watches the car leave with you in it, the key he thought he lost in his hand, not realizing you had had it the entire time, never using it. He had no idea if you even wanted it, if you knew you had it. If you did, then that would mean the entire time, you never wanted to use it. This entire time, you really didn’t love him, no matter how much he loved you. 

All he could do was put the key in his pocket and walk away. So he did. 

You do your best to tune out our boss, getting to the airport in no time and finding yourself sitting on the floor outside of the gate, the four of you on your computers going over the last minute details of the presentation you had tomorrow. No matter how hard you tried, you still had a nagging voice in your ear that you need to tell him, that you shouldn’t push him away. All you could do was take a breath and ignore it, talking when you had to, giving your input, and forcing yourself to think of nothing but this presentation and the conference. 

By the time you land in LA, you were more exhausted than when you left, your boss talking your ear off about heading to the conference that night to scope things out, see potential future directions for projects for your company, talk to other people and make more connections in the states since he thinks you were one of the few groups from Canada present. “Y/N? Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?” he asks, either oblivious to your eyes drooping as you struggle to stay awake while Evelina checks everyone in, or not caring in the slightest. 

“You want to go to the conference tonight because there’s the expo and you want free stuff, and other people to talk to about their business ventures” you mumble, knowing that was what he said pretty much verbatim. 

He leaves you alone, Evelina coming over and having to drag you to the room the two of you were going to share. “We have like three hours before he wants us to meet for dinner and head to the convention center. You’ve gotta get some sleep,” she insists, you acting like such a zombie you didn’t even realize that you were already standing in front of your hotel room door. 

You nod, not caring enough at this point to argue with her. You fall asleep as soon as your head hits the pillow, Evelina probably moving around the room without you even realizing it. You knew you were dreaming, unable to really talk, just watching the scene around you unfold. You had no idea where you were, walking around a backyard, two small children, a boy and a girl, squealing as they chased each other around. There was a house behind you, other people who you couldn’t make out laughing and talking. You knew that everything and everyone you saw in your dreams were places and people you had seen before, your mind unable to conjure up life like that when in a dream state. You just couldn’t figure out where you knew everything from. 

You feel two arms snake around your waist, someone’s chin nestled onto your shoulder, immediately feeling yourself relax into whoever it was even though you couldn’t tell. 

“Look at them,” the familiar voice says. You knew that voice. You knew who it was as he planted a kiss on your neck, feeling his curls graze against your ear once he pulled away, your knees going weak at the feeling you didn’t realize you missed. “I can’t wait for the next baby Tkachuk to come along,” he whispers. You look down, reaching to touch your swollen stomach, somehow missing that before. 

You shoot straight up, awake and breathing heavily. “Fuck,” you whisper, thankful that Evelina was in the bathroom and unable to see the panic wash over you. Dreaming about pregnancy typically meant that you were about to start something new. One point to your subconscious for that one.  “Ev?” you call, getting off the bed and going over to her. Do you tell her about the dream? 

“What’s up?” she calls from behind the closed door.

“Uh, what time are we leaving for dinner?” you ask.

“I was gonna wake you up in like five minutes to give you half an hour to get ready?” she says, opening the door. “You ok?” 

“Yeah, why?”

“Your hand is on your stomach.” 

You hadn’t realized it was, involuntarily holding it like you had been in the dream. “Yeah, just hungry,” you lie as she passes by you, thankful she couldn’t see the smile that was growing on your face. 

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

It was the first and only night of the conference that you didn’t have to be there if you didn’t want to, unbothered by your boss who encouraged you to wander the city and try to find something ‘more fun than listening to people talking about what you’re passionate about,’ despite him being oblivious to the fact that none of you wanted to be there for the last two days you were supposed to be. You were sitting on the bed, your computer up with your earbuds in trying to find something on Netflix to watch for the night, watching Evelina get ready to go to the game out of the corner of your eye. 

“I really do want you to come with me,” Evelina says, standing next to your bed with her Lindholm jersey on from Matthew. 

You don’t look up from your computer, knowing that if you saw her in the flaming C you would cave in and go with her, the last thing you wanted to do. “I don’t have anything to wear even if I wanted to go,” you tell her, trying to give her a tone that made it sound like you didn’t care, no matter how much you did.

“You know you want to go. Come on. Matthew or not, it’s free tickets to a hockey game. We haven’t seen a bunch of grown men in skates beating each other up live and in person in ages because we never have money. And, it’s LA. If you start swearing at him then no one would question it because they hate him, too. And you do have something to wear.” You look up, clearly confused. Evelina goes over to her bag, holding up the red fabric that was supposed to be in Matthew’s apartment. “Please?” she says, handing it to you. 

“You’re not going to stop until I say yes, are you?” you ask her, tracing over the letters of his last name slowly with your thumbs. 

“You know me well enough to know that the answer is probably not,” she says. “Plus, I don’t know. Since we got here, you’ve been different than you have been the last few days. I know he’s been on your mind.” You look at her, unsure how she could have figured that out when you knew you hadn’t mentioned him since you got to Los Angeles in the first place. “You changed your phone background from a picture of us to a picture of you and Matthew. The one when we went to that apple orchard back where your parents live? You were on his shoulders so you could get the apple at the top of the tree?” she says, pulling a smile from you. You tap on your phone screen, bringing up the picture she was talking about. You mentioned that your dad always said the best apple was at the top of the tree, putting you on his shoulders so you could reach them when you were younger. Matthew picked you up and helped you get the apple, Evelina taking the picture of you two right before Matthew nearly dropped you. 

Caving easily after her pointing that out, you throw the jersey over your head, closing your laptop. “Then we’re going before I change my mind.” 

She squeals, grabbing your hand and running out the door, ordering the Uber for it to get there in record time. You get into the car, your heart racing about seeing him again, even if it were from afar. You didn’t know what to do if you came to face to face with him, somehow. 

“I don’t like how easy it was for you to convince me,” you say to her as she gets the tickets Matthew had set aside for you. 

“You’re just lucky that I packed the jersey instead of leaving it for Matthew,” she boasts, the two of you wandering through the Staples center, two red dots in a sea of black and white. You could feel the eyes of everyone on you, clearly sticking out, not belonging while wandering through the arena while you try to find your seats. You get there as the boys take the ice for the first warm ups, half an hour to puck drop. 

You feel your heart start to race when you see Matthew take the ice, unsure if he realized you where there or if he even knew where you would be sitting. “Are you ready to admit it yet?” Evelina asks you, noticing that you hadn’t taken your eyes off him since he started skating and stretching. 

You watch him joke around with Johnny and Sean, not seeing Elias find you two in the crowd and waving to you. He gets Matthew’s attention, pointing to your seats. You and Matthew make eye contact, giving him a weak smile, all you could manage to give. He nods, his lips forming a thin line before turning back to his other teammates. “I guess not,” you say, the excitement you felt from seeing him gone. 

Why were you even there? He didn’t want you there anymore, clearly. Evelina sees your shift in mood, trying to change the subject back to the conference, telling you about one of the talks she went to while you were off at a poster session. You try to keep your focus on her, listening to what she was talking about but not hearing anything, stealing looks at Matthew whenever you had the chance, just wishing that you would catch him doing the same. 

The game starts, you paying no attention to anything besides Evelina, unable to keep your focus on the puck moving across the ice, instead focusing on the curly haired pest that was already wreaking havoc against the Kings. No matter what you did to try to take your attention away from him, you were drawn to him. 

Elias ends up scoring off an assist from Matthew, Evelina jumping and cheering even though she was drowned out by the deafening boos from the surrounding Kings fans. You watch the boys skate over to the bench, sitting down and taking off their helmets. Matthew makes eye contact with you, both of you freezing for a moment before Gio gets Matthew’s attention. You knew he could feel your eyes on him as your stare lingered, swearing that you caught him glancing over, a smirk on his face even though his captain was talking to him. 

“I’m going to head to the bathroom before the line gets too long,” you tell Evelina, getting up with two more minutes left in the period. 

“Wait,” Evelina stands up with you, reaching into her jersey and pulling out a folded piece of paper, “Read this.”

“You’re a woman. You don’t have pockets. How did you keep this in there?” you ask her, taking the paper from her clearly confused. “That’s not important. Just go read it.” She pushes you away, causing you to trip on some already irritated Kings fans as you stumble through the aisle to get out. 

What even was this? You get up to the concourse, pacing around the currently empty area. You read the first line, immediately knowing that whatever this was is from Matthew: 

10 things I love about you

I love the way you rant to me as a way to relax yourself

I love the way you dress to your comfort and won’t listen to anyone else

I love the way you play with your pen even though it makes a mess

I love the way you focus on your work no matter how much it makes you stress

I love the way you get along with the guys and can chirp them all the time

I love the way you’re quiet at first, not letting anyone see you shine

I love the way you’re stubborn as hell and how you drive me crazy

I love the way I’d do anything for you even when you call me lazy

I love the way you’re the one I want to talk to, how my heart races when you call

But mostly, I love the way you say you hate me, even though you don’t, not even a little bit, not even at all. 

You get to the last line, tears clearly falling down your face as you walk around like a zombie, your eyes fixated on the piece of paper in front of you while people start flooding from their seats, the silence around you broken by the noise of the Kings fans. 

“Hey Calgary!” you hear a man yell, for some reason catching your attention. You see an older guy in a Doughty jersey, looking you up and down. “Fuck Tkachuk,” he says, walking away.

“Don’t you think I would if I could?” you yell back, stopping in your tracks at what you just said out loud. You would if you could. “Ah fuck,” you mutter to yourself. You had to find Matthew, and you had to find him now. You couldn’t go the rest of the game without telling him. 

You start running, unsure where you were headed, just hoping that it would eventually lead you to finding someone from the Flames that you recognized that could get you down to Matthew now that it was intermission, forgetting the fight you had back in your apartment before you left for this city. 

You finally find someone you recognize, begging them to bring you back down with them because of an emergency that you had to tell Matthew about. What if he didn’t want to see you? What if he left you standing there, humiliated while you waited for him? You started pacing, trying to figure out what you were going to say to him in the case that you did see him. 

“Y/N?” you hear him, heating rushing to your cheeks at the sight of him. “They said it was an emergency, what’s up?” he asks, panic washing over his voice at the thought of something wrong with you.

  You scrunch your face up, feeling bad that you worried him, but not enough not to do it. “I kinda lied? But I,” you close your eyes, letting out a sigh in hopes of releasing the tension that overcame your entire body, “I needed to see you.”

“Ok?”

“What is this?” you ask him, handing him the paper that Evelina gave you. 

His eyes scan the page, a smirk on his face letting out a small laugh. “Evelina asked me about all the ways I love you. I guess she typed it up. But I didn’t say this last thing. Evelina must have written that herself,” he tells you, pointing to the last line. But mostly, I love the way you say you hate me, even though you don’t, not even a little bit, not even at all.

“Is it true?” you ask him.

“You tell me.” 

You stand there in silence, both of you staring at the page that Evelina wrote. “I hate the way you cut your hair,” you start, Matthew raising an eyebrow.

“We were having such a nice moment, what are you doing?” 

“Just, shut up,” you tell him, both of you smiling at each other. “I hate the way you cut your hair: your curls could make any girl melt and yet you do that thing on the side of your head. I hate the way you drive my car: everytime you get behind the wheel I’m worried about how I’m going to claim the inevitable damage on my insurance,” you start to rant, Matthew laughing as he traces patterns on your hand with his thumb, sending chills through your body, “I hate the way you tease me, and I hate the way you stare because it makes me weak and act so stupid and it makes me so mad that I can’t help it. I hate the way you read my mind, and the way you make me rhyme. And I hate the way you’re always right.” 

He can’t help but laugh, shaking his head as he takes a step towards you. In his skates, he towers over you, reaching for your hand as he looks down at you, “That’s only seven things.” “It’s been a month since I started the list. I never got to ten things.” 

“Why’s that?” he smirks, pulling you as close to him as he could. 

“Do I have to say it?” you whine, a smile on your face anyway.

He nods, his curls moving he did. “Yeah. You do,” he teases, you biting your lip and looking at the ground instead of him. His thumb and forefinger find your chin, tilting your head up to look at him, “Please.” 

“Because I love you.”

“There it is!” he yells, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around, your cheeks red as you don’t even try to hide the joy you felt finally admitting it. 

“Put me down!” you squeal, his hands on your waist with arms draped on his shoulders. “Do not ruin this,” you warn him, his forehead pressed against yours. 

“You really mean it?” he whispers, a bigger smile on his face than you had seen in a long time. 

“Yes. I love you, you idiot,” you giggle, caught off guard as his lips connect with yours, the first time in over a week. You hated to admit how much you missed that. You hated to admit how much you really did love him.

“Matthew! Warm ups!” you’re interrupted by Elias standing down the hall, the guys filing from the locker room to ice behind him.

“I gotta go, but meet us after?” he begs, not wanting to let you go.

“Go win the game for me,” you tell him, moving away from him, the connection between your hands lingering.

“I’ve already won,” he says, pulling you in again for another kiss, running down the hall to finish what they started.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #flames #flames imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

[sconnie-doesnt-know]

Chapter 1

Characters - Ransom, assorted OCs, Reader

Word Count - 3100

Warnings - Drinking, language

A/n - Welcome to my Ransom series! I am so excited to play with this character. Long term, there will be angst, and fluff, and smut, which you won’t need to wait long for, I promise. Here’s the intro. I hope you like it. There’s mostly set-up this chapter and of course, an unforgettable introduction to our sweater-loving heartbreaker. 

I appreciate feedback. If there are errors, please let me know. Line dividers used were made by @firefly-graphics​

Series Masterlist 

Job hopping isn’t at the top of your to-do list, but if life had shown you anything lately, it is that you need some changes. 

Whitney leans hard into the bar in front of her, elbows resting just right to push her tits together as she tries for the bartender’s attention. She doesn’t look at you as she talks, but so far she seems to still be paying attention, “So how late were you to the interview?”

The lump in your stomach had still not settled after the disaster from the afternoon. 

“I was almost an hour late. I got off on the wrong exit and still have no clue how to circle back through the construction the way you do.”

“Yikes,” she says as she waves and gets a nod from the bartender in return. 

At last there’s hope and liquor finally on the horizon.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have even bothered. I think he still gave me the interview as a joke.”

“Well. Fuck it.” She shrugs and handles the drinks.

She pays the bartender, throwing in a wink for good measure, then hands you your glass. She does a slow spin as she takes in the scene, nodding to herself. 

“You know what? I like this place!” Whitney shouts into your ear, hopping from foot to foot in a drunken attempt to dance to the pop ballad blasting through the speakers. 

You look around the unfamiliar bar, not really focusing on anything, but trying to find some point of interest. The evening so far has been a dull combination of mixed drinks and bar hopping as you and your friend look for a place with a “good vibe” as Whitney described it. She zeroed in on this place that looks like a misplaced supper club and dragged you in.

“Yeah!” you agree, honestly not caring enough to have much of an opinion.

“Stop it,” Whit hisses.

“Stop what?”

“You’re pouting. We’re supposed to be having fun and you’re pouting!” Whitney whines before jabbing herself with the straw in her glass. 

You’re supposed to be her fun, party friend and you’re doing a terrible job of filling the role as of late.

“I know. I just hate that on top of everything, I have to avoid our bar because of The Ex.” You didn’t dare speak his name.

“You wanna go back? Fight for it? We can go there, I don’t care,” Whitney looks at you with barely concealed excitement, always anxious to stir up shit.

“Nope.” You stare into your drink, watching the level go down until you start to slurp on nothing but air. “More drinks.”

“More drinks!” Whit shouts, arms flailing and barely missing a passing cocktail waitress. “Whoa! Sorry!”

The blonde turns around, her face quickly changing from annoyance to surprise, “Whitney?!”

“Michelle!” your friend squeals before pulling her into a clumsy hug. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

You block them out as they catch up, not having any idea what they are going on about. It’s weird to be somewhere different, a new crowd, different atmosphere, brighter lights and lighter drinks. Just like starting over, like moving. Again.

At least you hadn’t lost Whit in the break-up. Shit, it wasn’t even really a break-up. It was you finding out how things were and being unwilling to put yourself in the middle of that shitshow. It wouldn’t lead to anything but emotional eating and long fights. 

So, as Whit suggested, on to new hunting grounds.

“Yeah! We’ll be there,” you hear her say as you tune back in to their conversation.

The waitress, Michelle, looks you over, “Oh? Yeah, you come too.”

You give her a quick smile back then look to your friend to find out what she just agreed to after she walks back to the bar.

“Alright, so I knew her in school. We’re gonna go with her to another friend’s place. She’s texting me the address now.”

“Okay,” you answer, though she misses your lack of enthusiasm as she checks her phone for the info. You make your way to the bar for a refill and start to hope the rest of the night goes quickly.

It’s a small party in a spacious condo, more of a gathering really because that’s what adults do, you remind yourself.  Michelle arrived at the same time as you and Whitney so she guided you inside.

Entering into the bright kitchen, a small group surrounds a kitchen island holding drinks and bottles. A few of them turn as the three of you enter, surprise showing on their faces and assorted exclamations of “No shit” and “Where the hell you been?” being shouted to Whitney and Michelle. You stand back to let them share hugs and flick your hand in an awkward wave as you get introduced to the group, names being called out without any real way for you to identify who’s who.

“Drinks?” someone asks.

“Yes,” you hiss. “Please,” you tack on at the end to hide the desperation for something to help get you through the night.

The guy looks taken aback, but nods and goes to the fridge to grab a bottle for each of you, popping off the tops before passing them out.

“Anyway…” their conversation picks back up. Whitney and Michelle jump in easily from time to time and the group forms a loose circle along the counters and the island. You lean back, not quite completing the circle, but not outside of it either. Your eyes move from person to person as they talk and add to the stories. It sounds like they are reminiscing about what they got up to while attending the university, but no one bothers to explain and you don’t ask. 

Every now and again you find yourself nodding or tossing out a response, but otherwise not adding much to the conversation and realizing how long it’s been since you reached out to your old friends. Trying and failing to remember your last contact. Keeping in touch was never one of your strong suits.

Listening as they talk, their lives sound so far beyond where yours has stalled out, adventures past what you could imagine. That helpful inner voice reminds you that you don’t belong here. It’s more than just being a tag-along friend. There’s a twisting in your gut urging you to leave, suddenly feeling as though they are watching you, judging you, picking you apart and hating the imposter among them. 

Looking over at Whitney, she’s clearly having a great time and won’t be ready to go any time soon. It makes you worry how long she’ll want to stick around or if you can talk her into getting another ride home so you can cut out of there before you can get embarrassed.

You take a step back, leaning against the counter, zoning out of the conversation and figuring out your exit, and regretting the drinks that are now delaying said exit strategy. 

One of the guys from the group breaks away and makes his way toward you, making you press yourself further into the cabinets behind you to allow him to squeeze past, but instead he stops next to you, head tilted toward you and letting his brown hair fall over his forehead.

“Why are you so quiet?”

Heat rushes to your cheeks as you look at him, then quickly look away because jesus christ he’s handsome - like, model handsome, but it’s even more embarrassing to get flustered right to his face. In the extra seconds you take to answer he huffs out a laugh and settles in next to you.

“I, uh, I don’t know anyone,” you finally eek out.

“Well, talking to people usually helps.”

You hum an agreement, eyes flickering over to the group just a few feet away and catching a few people giving the two of you side-eyed glances, but not much else. “I don’t want to interrupt and I don’t really mind just observing.”

“So what? You just like watching other people talk?” he gestures with his glass to the group. You look up in time to catch two of them making lewd gestures at each other and laugh awkwardly.

“Sometimes? I just don’t feel the need to say anything if I don’t have something to actually contribute to the conversation.”

“Huh,” he responds, then takes a sip of his drink. 

You brave a better look at him, admiring his profile and talking yourself down from cartoon heart-eyes. Begging yourself to not linger too long on his shoulders, the way you can just scent his cologne and it’s delightfully masculine, his model-perfect face...and absolutely failing. No doubt if someone was looking at you they could see the awe and lust on your face from being in such close proximity to someone this good looking. Then - then he smirks. It’s a tiny lift of the corner of his mouth and it makes your breath hitch. His eyes are gleaming with excitement, then he opens his mouth, his tone and volume demanding immediate attention.

“Hey, remember when Eric fucked Whit last fall? When was that, Thanksgiving weekend?”

You whip your head over to see Whitney’s jaw drop. The guy you assume is Eric freezes with his arm around another girl’s shoulders while her face steadily grows beet red and eyes go wet with tears. Everyone else stares between you and the man next to you, looking at you as though you conspired and causing you to shrink in on yourself.

“What?” the girl under Eric’s arm whimpers. Looking between the two of them while everyone else remains frozen. “Eric, I thought you went to your family cabin?”

“Oh yeah,” the guy next to you answers, “I forgot she didn’t know.”

His tone implies he’s anything but sorry and within seconds there is more shouting and Eric charges over to shout in his face.

You slide over, attempting to avoid the fray and trying to figure out what the hell just happened. Your heart pounds and heat still burns at the tips of your ears and across your chest.

After a few moments the high-pitch screaming of the girl fades as she makes her way to the door, Eric shouting after her and following, the others shouting each other down as they try to de-escalate and yet the instigator just stands there with a smile on his face. After the front door slams he turns to look at you, catching you staring at him and he winks.

“How’s that for something to contribute?” he mutters, obviously only meant for you.

“That was a dick move, Hugh,” Whitney spits at him.

He squints with obvious annoyance. “Feeling guilty for fucking your friend’s boyfriend?” he challenges.

She stares him down, but doesn’t last long, turning back to her drink and the rest of the group, “She’s not really my friend, anyway.”

A few others agree with her, the others shrug, and you’re left gaping at the whole scene, unable to understand what just happened. The guy next to you, Hugh, moves so suddenly that you flinch, making him chuckle.

“Lighten up, sweetheart. Life’s more fun when you let loose.” He tips his head back to finish his drink and walks back to the group, leaning over the countertop and continuing like nothing odd had happened. 

Whitney goes and makes herself comfortable in a recently vacated spot. Looking on for a while,  you try to sort out the dynamics of everyone there, but it’s not easy to determine who’s who in the group just yet. 

Their half-shouted stories start to wear on you, so you find yourself zoning out and deciding to take the opportunity to give yourself a little tour.

“So. Still not talking?”

“Jesus!” you hiss when the sudden intrusion makes you jump. The guy from earlier, Hugh, had snuck up next to you, a mischievous grin on his face and pink flush on his cheeks.

“Working up to it, I guess,” you breathe out, willing your racing heart to calm down. You look around, trying to find something else to look at so that you don’t have to look him in the eyes and bee-line for the bookshelf to look over the titles. They’re disappointing.

“So whose place is this? Whitney never bothered to introduce me.” You point back through the doorway, gesturing to the group at the table.

“She’s like that,” he notes.

“Yeah, she is,” you agree and step into his space, suddenly feeling too loose-limbed and loose-lipped from the earlier drinks. But he doesn’t seem bothered.

“Does it matter?” You feel his eyes scan you as he asks.

“Well, it’s not your place, is it?” you check. After he shakes his head no, you pull out a book and make a face, one hundred percent openly judging the owner on their taste. “He’s probably a pretentious snob, so I guess not.”

His eyes scrunch up and crinkle while he throws his head back in a laugh. 

“How’d you figure that?” he asks, tilting his head and watching you over the rim of his glass as he takes a drink.

“Look around. Plus, you’ve met Whitney, right?” you tease.

As though she hears you talking about her, Whitney turns around and looks at the two of you. She calls your name, demanding that you join her. Then her eyes land on the man next to you, “Ransom, you too!”

“I thought your name was Hugh,” you sigh.

“Only the help calls me that,” he says with an eye roll, “And people who wanna piss me off.”

Internally you gawk, but try to keep a calm exterior as you panic to figure out how to backtrack on your ‘pretentious snob’ comment, no doubt offending someone who says ‘the help’ in such a tone.

“Oh, I’m sorry...you know I probably shouldn’t have said-” is all you’re able to get out, though. He places a hand at the small of your back, shushing you with a finger raised to his own lips.

“C’mon,” he says as he guides you back to the group. His hand stays fixed on your lower back for the rest of the night. His warm palm pressing against your skin and fingertips flexing and gripping almost possessively. It leaves you on edge as you try to focus on anything else, basically begging your brain to focus on anything at all and completely failing. 

Sometime in the early hours of the morning everyone starts to disperse, Whitney hangs off of you as you make your way back to the car. Ransom makes his way to his vehicle. You put your hand up in an awkward wave, he nods and winks in response then closes his door after climbing inside, bringing an end to the evening.

Whitney manages to drag you out for a much less memorable night the next evening. When Monday arrives, you swear to yourself to not waste a weekend on a hangover like that again. You squint as you try to face away from the bright sun, fingers playing with a dead leaf beside you on the bench. 

The weekdays are usually reserved for being dull. For going to work, listening to your co-worker, Carrie, talk about bathroom remodeling and in-law drama. For doing adult things like sleeping normal hours, laundry, getting tires replaced on the car. Some free time is spent searching for jobs, but so far that’s still been fruitless. Anyone who didn’t know you better would assume you pass for an acceptable adult your age, not someone just barely hanging on. 

“You gotten laid lately?” Carrie, asks before sipping on her coffee. You snort at the abrupt question. There aren’t many secrets between you.

“Why should I tell you?”

“Because! I have to live through you since I am an old, married broad. I don’t go out and have fun and fuck bartenders anymore.”

“Anymore? You never did,” you snort. She married her high school sweetheart, the only man she ever kissed, touched, and fucked. What a concept.

“Exactly!” she practically yells. “Sooo?”

It had been a while, well, aside from that one night you went home late with a bartender named Jeff, but he got hit with whiskey dick as soon as you hit the sheets and the night was a bust. She had laughed her ass off when you told her about that disaster.

“No. Nothing lately. Trying to be careful. You know that.” You respond less kindly than you usually would, hoping that she will drop the subject. Gratefully, she’s smarter than some and does just that, but you don’t miss the look. “I mean, I did meet a guy, but it wasn’t really anything. Didn’t even exchange numbers.”

“Good. I just worry about you, you know?” She meant well as she had listened to all your stories, from the one-nighters to the heartbreak. She’d warned you to be cautious with The Ex, but you didn’t really listen.

“Yeah. Thanks. I just...Well, nevermind. I’m not going there because it’s nothing I haven’t said before. I’m not getting into all of it right now.” You take a deep breath before you start to really ramble. You have no idea how much time has passed, but decide it’s enough, “Break time’s up. Gotta get back.”

She nods and walks with you back inside, feeling a tinge of guilt for not telling her about your next job interview later in the week, hoping you can still hang onto her friendship when she’s not your co-worker.

The remainder of the week passes uneventfully. Only Friday afternoon is broken up by a text from Whitney reminding you about going out that night. As though you’ve done anything different for the last few months. You scroll through your contacts, ignoring the nagging reminders to call your family, and that you need to send your regrets for yet another baby shower. Seeing The Ex still in the contact list stops you, a little warning voice reminding you that you are supposed to delete his number. You hover over it for a moment, debating making that leap, but decide last minute to keep it...just in case. 

Whitney tells you that you’re going to the same bar as last Friday. For a second, you wonder if the evening will end the same way, and kind of hope a little bit that it does. Your imagination ran wild over the last week thinking of the small conversations and contact you had with Ransom the weekend before, analyzing details and tones and thinking about biting onto that lip and... 

A new notification pulls you from your little daydream and you add another item to your mental to-do list: delete The Ex’s number and ask Whitney about Ransom.

#ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale reader insert #knives out fanfiction #ransom drysdale x fem!reader #ransom drysdale series #c'mon let's pretend series #chapter one quite a feeling #chris evans characters #ransom drysdale #ransom thrombey

[tjlikesprettythings]

@thatwaxlion: Also, wouldn't mind to see a jealous Dani from you! No, I wouldn't mind it all. In fact, I hereby declare my prompt request.

I have answered your request, once again, I should really be working (perks of working from home) but I’m having too much fun writing these so enjoy my friend!

Prompt: Jealous Dani Dani stood beside the window of the Conrad hotel ballroom, scanning the crowd of the charity fundraiser where their suspects are expected to make an appearance. She had to wondered if ever since Bright joined the team they find themselves in these high society events more and more, as if the killers are attracted to his background.

It was no shocker that Jessica Whitly was on the guest-list of this particular fundraising event and so naturally Malcolm and herself were able to get in unnoticed, and Gil offered to escort Jessica. Dani tried to keep her smile from blooming, recalling the look on Jessica Whitly’s face when Gil appeared in his tux, the woman looked like she could use a drink, practically parched from the way her mouth fell open. She had to admit, Gil definitely filled out a tux just fine.

Jessica’s quick recovery was pointed to her next, “Dani, you look absolutely ravishing, gosh that color is fabulous on you.” As she looked her up and down, Dani’s orange full sleeve silk ensemble with the deep V cut and wrapping accent on the waist that framed her body perfectly before billowing out at the hem with a split up the middle, was not only elegant but very alluring. Her Hair was pulled up to a high ponytail completed with some statement gold pieces. She had thanked Mrs. Whitly graciously though she did find the attention a bit uncomfortable. 

What she had failed to notice in her spying of her boss and Whitly matriarch was the way Bright’s eyes swept her from head to toe, if he thought her ensemble to the Taylor wedding was something, then he wasn’t prepared for this. He swallowed the lump in his throat and a familiar burn in his stomach as he walked up to join her.

But that was the point of tonight, to stand out and appeal to their suspects. They deduced that this duo worked in a team of charming couples who targeted wealthy men and women of high society, seduced them, blackmailed them and then cleared up the loose ends by killing them.

JT ran operations from the van, opting to stay out of a ‘monkey suit’ as he put it. Keeping an eye through the security cams and listening in on their comms. She scanned the room filled with guests decked out to the nines and wait staff as they walked the room with wine glasses, champagne flutes and hors d'oeuvres. She found herself rolling her eyes, of course rich people made a party of helping the less fortunate. 

She finished her sweep only to find a very attractive brunette talking to Malcolm at the bar, she turned up her comms and listened in. 

“I haven’t seen you in one of these in a while,” She said waving to the bartender for a drink. 

Malcolm chuckled and nodded, “yeah, not really my scene. I only attend when it is absolutely necessary.”

Dani could tell they knew each other, there was a familiarity in the way she spoke to him, “I imagine Jessica is the absolutely necessary factor here.” She teased as she took a sip of her wine. “Well I’m glad that she forced your hand, I’ve been wanting to run into you again.” Dani rolled her eyes again, this woman was obviously not subtle about her motives. 

Dani knew Bright was an attractive man, pair that with the fact that he had millions to his name he would be a catch to most women, she just assumed that he kept to himself because of who he was and of course he didn’t exactly scream fuck boi bro. But She also knew that he could be incredibly charming when he wanted to be, that every time they walked down the street to get back to the precinct or to grab a coffee or tea women would appreciate his style, his features, the fact that he was both welcoming yet dangerous. 

Most of the time she didn’t think about it because she had his full undivided attention, even if he excitedly bumped into someone he’d quickly apologize and turn back to her. She didn’t realize that his attention being occupied by someone who very obviously knew him, and there was a hint of something more would make her feel...uneasy. 

She cleared her throat, to which Malcolm instantly looked in her direction and locked eyes. Shit, she forgot that he could hear her too. She pulled her brows together and scratched the back of her ear, looking away. It was JT who intervened and she decided she owed JT lunch.

“Damn, who knew Bright had game.”

This time Gil cleared his throat from where he was standing with Jessica on the other side of the room. To which JT whispered a “Sorry boss.”

Dani hid her smile behind her hand, as she pretended not to watch him and his yet to be named brunette. She didn’t know why but the way he chuckled and the way her hand reached out to brush the lapel of his jacket just annoyed Dani. Apparently personal space wasn’t a thing for this woman. 

“How is your father doing these days, Alice?” Malcolm asked focusing the subject back to small talk, the kind he detested but what could be done. 

Ah so her name was Alice, Dani scanned the room but really her eyes were focused on the profiler, what was the point of this exchange anyway, they were here to do a job, not to flirt and catch up. She didn’t know where her attitude was coming from and that added to her annoyance.

Alice shifted uncomfortable and shrugged as she pushed some of her hair behind her shoulder, “You know the usual, making sure to control every aspect of my life. He wants me to get married and settle down, I’m not good enough for the family business but I certainly can help it with an advantageous union.”

Dani just scoffed which earned her another look from Malcolm but there was something in his smile as he turned towards Alice. “How very antiquated of him, I’m sure he sees that your charms could be put to better use.”

Alice beamed at him again, eyes hooded as she took a step closer, “that’s for sure, you want to revisit how charming I can be?” She whispered close to his ear.

Malcolm smiled but his eyes were on the stand out beauty in orange across the room. He was enjoying Dani’s very apparent uneasiness in his re-acquaintance with Alice. Alice had gone to the same boarding school as him. While most kids didn’t bother with him after his father, Alice like Vijay was willing to be his friend.

“I know you can be...charming, but better be on my best behavior tonight.” Malcolm said as he took a step back from her. Alice can also be very pushy as he recalled. 

Alice just chuckled, “You have to admit, we used to have a lot of fun. Sure you don’t want to just disappear for a bit, this party is a bummer anyway...”

Dani’s mind instantly wandered to his ‘I’ve had sex, plenty of sex’ and even then she was a bit uncomfortable by his confession, now she was very uncomfortable by this whole exchange. Did this woman have no boundaries? The man said no, just leave it alone and have some self respect.

JT chimed in again, “Well damn bro…again who knew you had this much game!”

“Don't take game, if it’s being practically thrown at you,” she found herself mumbling before she realized what she was saying, to which she heard JT snicker. 

“Savage Dani…”

She cleared her throat, “can we focus on the task at hand instead of Bright’s sex life.” It was as if she lost all control of herself as she walked over to the bar, making sure that there was an extra sway to her hip when she approached them.

“Hi,” she found herself say as she stood beside Malcolm, looking innocently between Malcolm and Alice. 

Malcolm caught off guard only for a second smiled and introduced her to Alice, since she wanted to play this game, he figured why not. He didn’t much enjoy these things but this would be the exception if he could rile Dani up just a bit. “Alice, this is Dani.” He said as his hand seamlessly wrapped around Dani’s small waist, the dress she wore left both little and a lot to the imagination. He could feel the warmth of her body through the silk. 

Dani’s heart thumped, as she fell into her role, “Alice, very nice to meet you.”

Alice eyed Dani up and down and then finally she smiled, “Ah so this is the reason you are on your best behavior.” Alice didn't seem to care for decorum in this situation, behaving like a true spoiled heiress, Dani thought, this kind of behavior in the Bronx would not be tolerated even if you were a strong independent woman. 

Dani narrowed her eyes then smiled, really she felt like she had no control over her actions because the next thing she knew she was saying, “only until we get home.”

Malcolm’s eyes widened slightly as he cleared his throat, “Alice you’ll have to excuse us, I see my mother and I know she was asking for Dani earlier.”

Alice’s red lips curved up as she nodded, “well what do you know Malcolm Whitly is officially off the market, many a heart will be broken to know this. Nice meeting you Danielle.” She said as she walked away. 

Dani’s hands fisted at her side, no one called her Danielle. When she felt the gentle squeeze of his fingers on her waist as he released her, Dani suddenly came to herself. She closed her eyes and waited and on que, JT was laughing in her ear. 

“Well that’s one way to take care of that.” Gil said as he watched the whole exchange. Jessica on the other hand seemed to have enjoyed the show very much, even if she couldn’t hear anything, she got the gist of the situation. There was something so very normal and charming about women bickering over her handsome son.

Dani cleared her throat and scrunched her face, “sorry, thought this would make the point.”

Malcolm licked his lips and squinted at her, “what was the point again?” He wasn’t sure before but now he could clearly see it...she was jealous...to some extent anyway.

Dani pressed her lips together, and drew her brows in, WHAT was the point? Why was she in his business anyway. But to save face she simply shrugged, “to get back to work, you know look for the killers.” She rolled her eyes as if to say ‘duh’ but internally she was screaming with embarrassment, this is not how she behaved normally. She blamed Malcolm Bright for this.

Malcolm bit his lip to keep from laughing, he honestly was enjoying this too much, and her annoyance making his heart leap with joy, because that meant she was jealous. Something about Dani being jealous for him even if it was irrational and primitive made him feel...good. It brought to their relationship another layer, it gave him...hope.

#brightwell #malcolm x dani #writing prompts #prodigal son #for thatwaxlion

[lost-in-the-80s]

I’ve Never Seen You Here

Pairing: Axl Rose x Reader

Words: 2,889k

Summary: It's no secret that you and Axl desire each other, but what would happen if you met at a club? (smut)

A/N: This is my first smut, so sorry if it's shitty. 

Warnings: Mature content, swearing, and unprotected sex. (Use a condom, guys!) 

Tag list: @roger-taylors-car​ @ladieswttda​ add yourself to my tag list

It was a little past four on a Tuesday afternoon, you were behind the counter, with your back against it, fanning yourself with one of the menus, trying to get some relief from the hot summer weather in Los Angeles.

Your friend, Braeden stood in front of you, drying some glasses that had just been washed by you. 

The bell on the entry door ranged, announcing new customers at the cafe. 

You didn't mind looking who it was, you weren't really in the mood to deal with people now. You were just about to ask Braeden to take their orders when she spoke up.

"Your ginger is here" a smirk appearing on her lips. 

You turned around just in time to see him passing through the door. He nodded in your direction in a greeting way. It was your turn to smirk.

Forgetting completely about your previous annoyance, you stretched your pink 60s inspired dress and picked your small notepad, walking towards his table. 

He was there with his friends, all of them talking loudly about something that had happened on their way to the cafe. 

He looked so cool with his leather jacket and bandana. Smoking hot, you would dare to say. 

"Welcome to Flar's Cafe, what can I get you?" 

You started writing down their orders as the skinny brunette started telling you, but you couldn't not see the way the ginger looked you up and down. 

"Alright, I'll be right back."

Turning around, you walked back to the counter, feeling his gaze burn your back. 

Once you got their food you went back to the table, placing everything on it. 

"Anything else you might want?" You asked with a smile.

"That's all for today, sweetheart." The ginger answered with a grin. 

It was always like this. They started coming to the cafe a few months ago, every time the ginger would call you a nickname or smirk at you. You would smirk back, or ask what they wanted, looking right into his eyes, just for the pleasure to see the lust that spackled on them. 

The sexual tension between the two of you was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. 

Sometimes you wanted to bluntly ask for his number, or write yours and hand it to him, but you never got the guts, since all his friends were around. 

You moved back to work, attending other tables, making coffee, cleaning the counter, but at every chance you got, you would look in his direction and sure enough, he would be looking at you. 

"You're gonna keep this mouse and cat game 'till when?" Braeden spoke up, making you jump startled. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Why don't you just ask him for his number?" 

"Because first: I'm working, that's not professional at all. Second: his friends are there, what if he says no and all of them start laughing at me?" 

"You're just overthinking it!" She said rolling her eyes. "If work is the problem, why don't you meet him somewhere else?" 

"As if it was easy to find him in the middle of L.A."

"I actually might know where he's gonna be on Friday…." She said with a smirk, leaning against the counter and raising her brows.

"Where!!??" You almost yelled with excitement, making some customers look in your direction. "Where?" You repeated in a much lower tone now.

"I-"

Before she could tell you, his friend with black fuzzy hair appeared behind the counter and interrupted her.

"25, right?" He asked, handing you their order form. 

You got the paper from between his fingers and looked at the numbers fastly, making the count. 

"Yes, 25." You said, putting the order form on the pile of the finished orders.

He handed you 30 bucks, telling you to keep the change. 

You thanked him and watched as they walked away.

"Where, Braeden?"

She laughed a little. "When I passed near their table before, they were talking about going to this club on Friday." 

"A club." You said thinking. "Do you think I should go?"

"Of course!" 

"Come with me!" 

"Hm, I don't know. I had plans for Friday." She looked at her nails.

You knew she was just waiting for you to beg her, she had nothing to do on Friday.

"Pleasee!! I'll let you choose my outfit!" You said hugging her from the side and making puppy eyes.

"Ok then." She said with a proud smile.

----

The week passed by quickly, it was Friday now, you were at Braeden's place getting ready for the club. 

She convinced you to curl your hair while she teased hers. You applied some natural makeup, while Braeden chose a red lipstick with a sparkling eyeshadow.  It wasn't a surprise though, Braeden has always been the "Go big or go home" type of girl. 

You two sang some Aerosmith song that played in the background, while you put on the final touches on your makeup. 

"Hold on, I'm gonna get the dresses." She said before running to her bedroom. 

She reappeared a few seconds later, holding a tight lime green dress and a tight black dress with some tule details. 

"This one is yours!" She said, handing you the black one. 

You matched your dress with some black high heels you had brought and she matched hers with a nude pair.

You two took a second to look at each other through the mirror. "We look fucking hot!" You said grinning.

"Hell yeah!" She said, high fiving you.

You two exited the apartment and walked for a good 15 minutes before you could hear the blasting music coming from the club, a huge line of people in front of it.

"Shit! Look at that line!" Braeden said, pointing with exasperation.

"Calm down, I'm gonna put us in."

Walking on the sidewalk, you stopped in front of a bald man at the door, with a clipboard in hands.

"Hi! Y/N Y/L/N" You said with a smile, trying to make your voice come out as smoothly as possible. 

He looked at the papers and then looked back "Sorry, not on the list." 

"What do you mean not on the list?" You said raising your voice. "I can't believe Matt forgot to put me on the list!" 

You looked back at Braeden "Do you believe it? Two years together and he fucking forgets to put me on the list!"

You moved on, complaining about how Matt had forgotten to put you on the list, even though there was no Matt at all.

The man at the door started to look worried about the attention you were calling. He got the clipboard fastly and then looked up. "Matthew Anderson, right?  I found him, you can come in!" He said, relief filling his voice. 

"Yeah! That's him! Thank you, dude!" You said touching slightly his shoulder, in a way to thank him, before walking inside the club.

Red neon lights filled the room, and a Motlëy Crüe song got to your ears. 

"Remind me to never go to a club without you." Braeden said laughing a little about your scene.

You laughed along and pointed to the bar. "Let's get something to drink." You shouted so that she could hear.

You both squeezed yourselves among the people dancing until you got to the bar, asking for two tequila shots. 

The barman put the drinks on the counter and you drank before putting the glasses down with a loud sound.

"Woah! I know you two!" You heard a man saying from beside Braeden. It was the tall blonde, one of the ginger's friends.

"Hi!" Braeden said smiling. 

"Are you girls having fun?" He asked with enthusiasm. 

"We just got here!" She shouted. 

"Wanna sit with us? We got a table." He shouted back. 

You two exchanged looks before nodding in his direction. 

He got five beers from the counter before telling you to follow him.

"Look who I found at the bar!" He said, catching the attention from the other men,  putting the beers on the table. "Girls, I'm Duff, these are Axl, Steven, Izzy and Slash." He said pointing to each one of them. 

So his name is Axl huh? You thought to yourself. 

Axl and Slash sat at the edges of the booth, while the other two took the back part. 

"I'm Braeden and this is Y/N!"

They greeted you two loudly and then asked you girls to take a seat. Watching as Axl and Slash opened up some space for you to sit. You sat beside Axl while Braeden and Duff sat beside Slash. 

Duff started some conversation with Braeden, which she gladly got involved with. You were paying attention to them when you heard someone whispering in your ear.

"I've never seen you here." It was Axl.

"It's my first time here, to be honest." 

He nodded. "It's nice seeing you without that pink dress." He said looking you up and down. 

You smirked in his direction, taking his beer bottle for a sip when he offered you. 

After a good 20 minutes, Duff came back with vodka shots, which made you all engage in conversation easier, talking about music and other stuff. 

After a while, Axl put his arm around your shoulder, looking at you, to see if you would ask him not to do it. But after seeing your smile, he knew it was okay. 

Another 30 minutes passed by, and another three shots of vodka with it. Def Leppard started playing and you and Braeden decided to go dance. 

You moved your body with the beat, swaying your hips and singing out loud. Your body started to get hot, and you looked at the table seeing Axl's predator gaze in your direction, making your core start heating too. 

Another song started playing, and that's when you saw the guys approaching you. You all started dancing together as good friends, but after a few minutes, you found yourself dancing suggestively around Axl, loving the way his eyes watched your hips. 

You decided to make a move and turned around, pressing yourself on him while still dancing, rubbing yourself against his body. His hands found your hips as you two swayed to the song together. 

After some minutes you started to feel a bulge forming in his pants, making a smirk crept your lips. That's when his hands moved to your waist and he turned you around, making you face him.

Your hands found the back of his neck and his hands went down to grab your butt. He leaned down and kissed you hungrily, making you moan slightly during the kiss. 

When you parted ways to catch your breath, you bit his bottom lip, seeing his eyes get dark with desire. 

He leaned down, near your ear and whispered. "You better stop doing this, doll, or you're gonna end up taking it to a new level." 

His voice was husky with desire, making you even wetter. 

"What if I want to take it to the new level?" You raised one of your brows. 

He smirked at you, kissing you again. 

"Bathroom?" He asked, still smirking. 

"Bathroom!" You confirmed. 

He grabbed your hand and started to lead you towards the bathroom, opening the door for you to enter first, before attacking your lips again. 

You two moved towards one of the bathroom booths while still kissing, closing the door and looking for the lock on it, in between hair tugs and muffled moans. 

Once the door was locked he pushed you against it, allowing you a few seconds of breath before his lips found yours again. 

His hands went to the back part of your thighs, telling you to jump, which you gladly did, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands found your butt again, this time to support you. 

His mouth traveled from your lips to your jaw, before finally stopping at your neck. He started giving you sloppy kisses there, while he played with one of your boobs through your dress fabric. 

His fingers found your nipple, squeezing it slightly, making a quiet moan escape your lips. 

The sound made his member pulse inside his pants, making him bite your neck with voracity. You were sure there would be a mark there tomorrow. 

You moved one of your hands to his bulge, palming him through his pants, making a muffled moan escape his lips. 

You saw that as an incentive to slide your hand inside his leather pants. You palmed him gently, moving your hand up and down his length slowly. 

He groaned before kissing your lips again. One of his hands finding your waist and tugging at it with force.

You pulled apart to breathe and his hand found your core, his fingers touched you through your panties and he smirked, feeling your wetness.

He put your panties to the side, and his index finger traveled between your folds, getting wet with your liquids before entering you slowly. 

You moaned again, giving him the approval he needed to slide another finger inside of you. 

"So wet already, baby." The nickname made you moan one more time, as you closed your eyes and enjoyed the feeling.

You got so caught in the moment, that you had to take your hand out of his pants to put it on his shoulder for support, not sure if you could trust your legs anymore. 

He removed his fingers from you, making you whine at the loss of sensation. His fingers traveled up to his lips, where he sucked them looking at your eyes. 

His green eyes were almost brown now, and his pupils were dilated with lust. He kissed you one more time, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

He pushed your dress up to your waist and unbolted his pants, moving his hands up and down his length a few times.

"Are you sure?" He asked, gaze burning your eyes.

"Yes!" You said kissing him again.

That's when you felt his member collecting some of your juices before sliding slowly inside of you, making you moan slightly. 

He waited for a while, for you to get adjusted, before he started to thrust at a slow pace in and out of you. 

You both moaned and your hands found his hair, pulling it. He used one of his hands to support you and the other he put on the door behind you, to help him get some stability to thrust harder inside of you.

And that's exactly what he did, his once calm thrusts became fast and hard and you were sure anyone in the bathroom would be able to hear your bodies colliding against each other.

He straightened up a little, which gave him a whole new angle that hit your sweet spot instantly, making you let go of a loud moan. 

"Yes! Right there" you said between moans, as he promptly obeyed. Hitting your core ever harder. 

After a few minutes you both were moaning loud enough to fill the whole bathroom, your bodies were sweating and his thrusts were becoming sloppier.

The constant hit against your sweet spot made your walls start to clench around him, making him groan huskily. 

"Oh my god! I'm gonna cum!" You announced, feeling the pleasure take control of your body. Your eyes closed and your head fell back, hitting the door, while a series of moans and incoherent words left your mouth. 

"Yes, baby, cum for me!" Axl said, using his thumb to circle your clit, making you moan even louder. "Come on, doll, cum for me!"

His thrusts became faster and you felt a wave of pure pleasure take over your body as you hit your climax, moaning his name. 

He thrust inside of you a couple more times before he came too, biting on your shoulder to muffle his loud groan. Shots of his cum filling you, while you moaned with the sensibility of your core after your orgasm. 

He held you for a few more seconds before he placed you gently on the floor, your hands still on his shoulders, to make sure you weren't gonna fall. 

"Fuck" you said, adjusting your hair. 

"Yeah, fuck!" He said, laughing a little, while he adjusted his pants again. 

You two opened the door, glad to see that there wasn't anyone else in the bathroom. 

You moved towards the sink, looking at your reflection in the mirror. Your hair was a mess, your makeup all smudged, your neck full of red marks that you were sure would become bruises soon. You quickly fixed your dress and your hair, trying to fix your makeup in the best way you could, while he fixed his hair too. 

"So…" He cleared his throat. "Will I see you again?... Out of the cafe, I mean." 

You smiled at him a little, before looking for a pen in your purse. "Maybe…" you smiled suggestively now. "Why don't you call me someday and we find out?" 

You grabbed his hand, writing down your number on it. 

"You can be sure I'll call you, princess." He said, smirking.

"Are you ready?" 

You nodded and so the two of you left the bathroom and went back to your previous table, laughing at the shouts and whistling coming from your friends. 

#harley writes #axl rose #axl rose fanfic #axl rose imagine #axl rose fic #axl rose x reader #axl rose smut #guns n roses #guns n roses fanfic #guns n roses x reader #guns n roses imagine #guns n roses fic

[smolfoxbab]

okay here’s the Narumitsu angst (with a happy ending)

its my blog and i get to choose the hyperfixation to post about

((1,830 words //tw for injury + blood// hope u enjoy!))

Phoenix Wright wasn’t the type of person to make enemies. At least, not on his own. His selfless nature and optimistic personality made him a likable man to be around, even if he was often clumsy and oblivious at times. However, being a defense attorney was a different circumstance, one that brought a certain set of unspoken dangers with it. In proving his client’s innocence, the guilty verdict was placed onto another. While most of these people posed no threat behind the bars of their sentences, there was no guarantee a grudge wouldn’t push them to seek vengeance.

Miles Edgeworth had plenty of experience with this concept already. He was a prosecutor-- The Demon Prosecutor. Among the death threats and various other attempts on his life, he was all too aware of the risks that came with his job. But he had learned to shoulder them, right alongside the other burdens he carried. He also knew that Phoenix didn’t consider these things, didn’t consider his own safety as much as he considered others. Concussed, tazed, nearly drowned and beaten to a pulp in an infamously deadly river... none of it seemed to phase him. He never slowed in his pursuit for protecting others, and that... that concerned Miles more than anything.

“You need to be more careful, Wright,” he had said once in passing after a trial where a guilty offender nearly wrung Phoenix by the neck, the defense attorney standing just a little too close when the verdict was handed down.

“One of these days something... serious, might happen to you, and you won’t be able to just laugh it off.”

Phoenix only flashed him that dopey grin and said, “I’ll be fine, Edgeworth. For an unlucky guy, I’m pretty lucky.”

Miles wanted to believe that, truly. The man seemed to get off easy in dire situations more often than not, so perhaps he had a point behind his foolish reasoning. Even so, his worry lingered. Luck always tended to run out at some point.

---

Then one afternoon, his phone rang. He had already been driving towards Phoenix’s office, having been called over earlier on the premise of having an “important discussion.” He’d left as quickly as he could, but the traffic seemed to determined to keep him from reaching his destination. It was slow, and he seemed to be hitting every red light possible. It was at one of these prolonged red lights, as he sat impatiently tapping the steering wheel, that a familiar tune sounded off in his pocket. Sighing, he slipped his phone out and checked the screen, not too surprised to see Phoenix was the one calling. Forgot to tell him something in the first call, most likely. He hit “answer” and brought the device up to his ear.

“What is it, Wright.”

There was a raspy breath on the other end before Phoenix spoke, his voice just as hoarse.

“M-Miles, I... I-I uh...”

Miles’ brow furrowed, and he found himself straightening in his seat, grip tightening on the phone.

“Wright? Is something wrong?”

There was another breath, followed by a rather nasty sounding cough. There was then a sound that could have been a laugh, if it wasn’t so strained.

“Ah... s-something like that... I w-was trying to call... hhhah... I guess it d-doesn’t mmmatter... a-are you almost... here?”

The light turned green, and Miles pressed on the gas. Harder than he should have, perhaps, but he was uneasy now.

“Yes, I am. What is it, Wright? What happened?”

There was a grunting sound, and the rustle of paper. 

“W-well... fffunny story, ah... there was s-ssomeone at the door and it t-turns out it wasn’t... w-wasn’t you and ahm... shit-”

The hiss was sharp and pained. Miles turned a corner a bit too hastily, nearly catching a street sign as he swung around it. Before he could say anything, Phoenix continued.

“I’m not... I’m nnnot doing too hot, Miles... It’s getting... k-kind of hard to... focus...”

Miles clenched his jaw, trying to hold his composure. He was on the final stretch of road, he just had to get there.

“Stay with me, Wright. Stay on the phone. Do you hear me?”

“Yeah...” came the reply, but the strength in it was fading, “yeah... Miles...?”

“I’m here, Wright.”

He turned into the office parking lot as he said that, haphazardly parking and exiting the car in record time.

“.....what I w-wanted to... tell you... I... I love... you.”

Miles’ breath hitched as he ascended the steps. He would’ve have stopped completely if not for the adrenaline fueling his movement. A lump formed in his throat, which he heavily swallowed as he pressed on. Damn it, why now did he- Damn that man. 

“J-Just hold on, Wright. I’m coming up on the door now. Wright? Wright?”

Silence filled the other end of the line as he approached the door, which sat unlocked and ajar. A red smear stained the door handle, while more splashes led across the floor and deeper inside. Miles only hesitated a moment before flinging the door open, rapidly searching the room for the other man. It didn’t take long.

The defense attorney was slumped against a bookshelf near his desk, various papers and books scattered around him, along with his still lit up phone. He wasn’t moving. Miles sucked in a breath as he practically slid to Phoenix’s side, one hand clasping his shoulder while the other went to check his pulse. Thankfully, he could still feel it, though it was weakening.

“Wright? ...Phoenix, can you hear me?”

He tried to get some kind of response, lightly shaking his shoulder, but got nothing. He shifted his gaze downward, where he couldn’t help but spot the dark stain soaking underneath his jacket. He lifted the blue fabric slightly, trying to get some assessment of the damage. It looked too wide a tear to be a gun wound. A stabbing seemed more likely.

“Damn it. Damn you,” Miles cursed under his breath, shucking his jacket off and moving to put pressure on the wound. He set to call the authorities at the same time, his now-shaking hand nearly dropping the phone entirely. He stared at the unconscious man before him as the phone rang, mumbling to himself before the responder picked up,

“If you die, you fool, I’ll... I’ll bring you back and kill you again myself.”

Emergency services responded quickly, and an ambulance was sent with haste. The police force arrived as well, with the ever-diligent Gumshoe heading the charge. Ever-diligent, and ever-emotional, as the detective seemed to blast through one emotion after the next while Phoenix was being prepped for the drive to the hospital. Miles was given the assurance as he boarded the ambulance himself that, no matter what, the culprit wouldn’t get away with it. In the tense silence of the ride that followed, Miles let that statement repeat in his head- let it hold him together. They wouldn’t get away with this. He would see to it personally... Once he was assured that Phoenix was going to make it out of this alive.

---

Several hours of absolutely nerve-wracking waiting in the hospital lobby followed after, but all well worth it when he was informed that Phoenix was in stable condition. That didn’t stop him from nearly throwing the recovery room door off its hinges upon arrival, however. He needed to see it for himself, confirm with his own eyes that the other was alive. 

A tired smile greeted him from the bed.

“Hey Edgeworth...”

Miles stood in the doorway for a moment, silent and stiff. Then, slowly, he drew in a breath, let his shoulders relax, and stepped inside with the door closing behind him.

“Wright.”

Phoenix winced at the tone of Miles’ voice, like a child about to be lectured by his parent.

“Look, before you get m-”

“You are an absolute moron, Phoenix Wright. I mean really of all the idiotic- Not only do you call me as you’re bleeding out, rather than contact the authorities-”

Phoenix attempted to interject.

“To be fair I was actually trying to call the-”

But Miles didn’t let him finish.

“But then you have the gall to go and declare- to tell me that you- in such a dire circumstance you decide to claim-”

“Miles-”

“Not seconds before I walk in on what could have well been a murder scene- And what would I have done then? Knowing you had said such a thing before I could even have a chance to process it let alone-”

“Miles if... if you don’t feel the same I-”

“Reciprocate.”

Both of them fell silent then. Phoenix, slack-jawed and staring straight at Miles while the prosecutor locked his gaze to the floor, feeling the heat begin to burn in his cheeks. Phoenix blinked rapidly, beginning to flush a bit himself despite his currently paler complexion.

“Y-y-you mean you-”

Edgeworth huffed and turned towards him, closing the distance between himself and the bed before closing the distance between the two of them. It was an impulsive kiss, and not the one either of them imagined would be their first, but it was real. Phoenix was real, and still here, returning the kiss like it was the most natural thing in the world. A wince and a hiss broke the moment though, Phoenix pulling back to sink into the mattress he’d started to push off of. Miles pulled back hastily, rubbing at his arm with an awkward clearing of his throat.

“A-apologies, I didn’t mean to-”

“No, no- my fault, really. And look I... I’m sorry for worrying you and... how I said that really wasn’t how I meant to go about it-”

Miles cut him off again before he could start losing himself in his rambling.

“I... I know, Wright. I would be far more concerned if your plan had been to confess to me by having a near death experience.”

Phoenix chuckled nervously and looked elsewhere, giving Miles the chance to take up the seat next to his bedside.

“Yeah that’s... a little far out there... even for me. But Miles, you really...?”

Phoenix looked back with a start as Miles took his hand, his grip cautious but protective. Miles attempted to play it off as if he was exasperated, rather than jumbled mess of feelings he was grappling with. The mess of feelings he had been grappling with for some time.

“Honestly, I would have thought just now made it clear enough, but. If I must say it to convince you. Yes, Phoenix. I... I love you, too.”

There was a pause, far too long yet far too short, before Phoenix smiled. Still tired at the edges, but warm and genuine. 

“Okay then. I’m... I’m really glad to hear it isn’t just... I’m glad.”

Miles couldn’t help but smile faintly himself, gently squeezing the hand in his.

“...As am I. Now... why don’t you tell me how you got into this mess?”

#narumitsu #wrightworth #ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #My writing #fanfiction #*twiddles fingers* #idk if this is any good but

[2manyfandoms2count]

You can count on me (I will be there for you)

Another week, another YCCOM chapter! It’s a long update as well, feat Alya, fake-Adrien, oblivious and melodramatic Marinette, and Chat Noir (who is also a little oblivious because it’s fun) 👀

Hope you enjoy! xx

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | AO3

---

Chapter 5

Marinette doesn’t really pay attention during the bridal party toasts. She’s lost in her thoughts, giggles when others seem to, and drowns the very present realisation that she might be sitting two chairs away from her blackmailer in champagne.

She doesn’t notice how fidgety Alya is during her Maid of Honour speech, or her sideway glances when she makes puns that earn her eye squints from Adrien. Those go unnoticed, too.

She temporarily jolts back to reality when Adrien wraps an arm around her waist and leans his head on her shoulder during a very emotional part of Nino’s speech (or so she assumes, from the audience’s aws). And then, again, when the warmth leaves, as he stands up and takes the mic.

At that moment, she can’t help but look up to him and his hypnotising smile. He’s holding her hand as he speaks, and it feels like he’s talking exclusively to her as his eyes bore into hers. Unfortunately, she’s too lost in his green glittering gaze to make out what he’s saying.

She can tell it must be beautiful from the oohs and aahs she hears in the crowd (out of her peripheral vision, Sabine wipes her tears away, and so does Tom - there is no such emotional scene on the Agreste side), but as much as she tries to, she just cannot bring herself to listen. There’s something about Adrien's eyes that’s so familiar. She drowns in their tenderness. She can’t put her finger on it, but something hurts a little inside of her at that moment, there’s a yearning for something that she can’t deny. So much so, that it pulls tears out of her eyes as Adrien tells her, for the whole country, perhaps the whole world, to hear “I love you, Marinette Agreste. As Chat Noir and Ladybug say, it’s you and me against the world. And I am beyond honoured to be on your team.”

She isn’t sure if it counts as bad taste.

At the end of his speech, she gets up, pulls him into a hug, and nuzzles against his neck, the tears still streaming down her cheeks. He tilts her chin up gently to check on her, smiling lovingly at her, and she kisses him.

It’s what a good wife would do.

And that’s what she’s supposed to be today. Not a scheming superhero, waiting for the right opportunity to bolt bad guys behind jail bars, instead of making the most of her wedding day. Not a woman who sees the almost-too-perfect execution of a play she helped stage, which makes her question if the male lead won’t end up broken-hearted by the end of it.

After they’re done eating the delicious lunch, the catering of which was supervised by none other than Tom and Sabine, she drags Adrien off towards a balcony with a very convincing giggle (the champagne, she supposes). Adrien follows her eagerly before he notices that he forgot his phone at the table. She tells him to hurry as she steps outside. The cool air does wonders to sober her up.

Chat Noir makes it to their meeting point before Adrien does, a little out of breath. Marinette smiles at him. This will be quick. It has to be, for Adrien’s sake.

“Hey, guys, sorry to keep you waiting.” The groom says as he carefully closes the door behind him.

“No worries, dude.” Chat Noir smiles warmly. “Well done on the speech, it was really beautiful.”

“Well, anything for Marinette, right?” Adrien turns towards her and she blushes.

“Beautiful speech indeed.” She clears her throat. “Unfortunately,” well, maybe not for me, since I couldn't highlight any phrase to save my life she thinks, “we’re not here to delve into it right now.”

“Is everything alright?” Adrien frowns.

“Well…” Marinette scrunches her nose and shares a glance with Chat Noir. “We’ve had news on the blackmail situation.” Better to bite the bullet now. They’ll have plenty of time to chat later.

“Oh. Bad?” Adrien bites his lip.

“It’s really too early to tell,” Chat Noir replies. “But we have a lead, and we have to act fast.”

“I see.” Adrien nods. “How fast, exactly?”

“We have to take a quick trip somewhere. We’ll be back before you know it, don’t worry.” Marinette says. “Perks of having a Miraculous.”

“Then that’s no problem, girl!” Adrien smiles. “I’ll hold down the fort while you two are gone.”

Marinette frowns. He doesn’t usually call her “girl”. That’s more of an Alya thing.

She doesn’t catch Chat Noir shooting a thunderous stare at Rena Rouge, hiding behind curtains two windows down. The foxy lady grimaces sheepishly and mouths a “sorry” in his direction.

“Er… Sorry, I think my conversation with Alya, and then her speech, rubbed off on me.” Adrien scratches the back of his neck.

“Oh, right. Yeah, that happens to me too, sometimes.” Marinette shakes her head with a small smile, and both Chat and Rena let out a small sigh of relief as she changes the subject. “Anyway, our goal is to make it back before the first dance, so you won’t be alone for too long. I’m going to get Rena Rouge to join you, to make my absence more inconspicuous.”

“Sounds good.” Adrien and Chat Noir nod.

“So I just need to speak to Alya, and then Max before we go.” Marinette strokes her chin.

“I can go and get Alya!” Adrien’s hand shoots up, almost brushing against Chat Noir’s. The latter jumps away, afraid that the illusion might break.

“That would be great, thanks.” Marinette smiles softly.

He disappears off before she can tell him how grateful she is that he is so understanding, but not before he can shoot her a very longing look, one that reminds her of the way he used to look at her sometimes back in collège.

She sits down on the bannister, breathing in and out deeply as her fear of breaking his heart strikes again. Chat Noir joins her, taking her right hand in his.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” He asks, gently tracing circles on the back of her hand.

“Okay, I guess.” She shrugs. “Just getting a little antsy about all this. You have the Miraculouses?”

“Yep.” He pats his pocket, making it jingle slightly.

“Good.”

Her leg bounces as they wait. She seems more on edge than her partner had anticipated, but it could be because of the great performance Alya provided. As perfect as fake-Adrien’s way of looking at Marinette would have been in public, he thought it was a little over the top in this instance. And anyway, when had Alya ever seen him look so love-struck?

“Hey Chaton?” Marinette breaks her tense silence and his thoughts.

“Yes?”

“You don’t suppose Adrien might… love me, do you?” Her eyes are wide with worry, and Chat doesn’t know whether to burst out laughing, hug her, or let the melt-inducing smile he can feel coming on invade his face. None of this transpires as he stares back at her blankly, lips only slightly twitching.

“It’s just… the toasts. I didn’t catch most of it, but his feelings looked so… real.” She breathes out.

Chat Noir lets himself laugh. “You do realise that a couple of hours ago, you were worried he would bail, and now you’ve done a full 180° by thinking he might be too invested, right?” He teases.

“I know, I know, it’s stupid, right?” She lets out a tense chuckle as she shakes her head. “You’d think I could read my husband better than that.” The cheekiness of her small smile isn’t as strong as it could be, but Chat Noir will take it all the same.

“He’ll be fine, I paw-mise.” He smiles tenderly, considering whether telling her that her second reading isn’t far off at all would be saying a little too much, or if he could get away with it.

He doesn’t have time to reach a conclusion. There’s a small knock on the window pane, and Alya lets herself out on the balcony. Marinette gets up and he follows suit.

“Hey, girl! Adrien said you were looking for me?” Alya’s pace is breezy as she walks towards them, until her eyes land on him. She stops in her tracks with an audible gasp. “Chat Noir? What are you doing here?”

He rolls his eyes at her dramatic entrance, but smirks as she comes to stand beside him. “Hi, Ladyblogger.”

“Hey Alya, thanks for joining us.” Marinette clears her throat. “I’m going to cut to the chase. We’ve got a bit of a situation, which is why you and Chat are here.”

“Is that so?” Alya crosses her arms behind her back. She gently nudges Chat, who discreetly extends a hand towards her. Alya places the necklace in it, and he subtly slides it back into his pocket.

“Yes.” Marinette takes a deep breath and wrings her hands as she mentally prepares herself to give her best friend the information she’s been looking for for almost as long as she’s known her, completely oblivious to the silent hand off taking place in front of her. “Alya, I have something important to tell you. I’m really sorry for not telling you earlier, but I swore not to tell anyone. I promise that I really didn’t want to keep this secret from you, I-”

“This sounds serious, are you ill, or something?” Alya cuts her in her rambling, doing her best to act clueless and concerned, even though Chat Noir can tell that she’s practically buzzing with excitement.

“No, it’s nothing like that, don’t worry. It’s pretty small, all things considered.” She pauses. “I’m… I’m Ladybug.” She whispers gently, wincing as she anticipates her best friend’s reaction.

“WHAT?!” Alya’s exclamation is a little too loud, her smile a little too wide for it to be completely genuine. Chat Noir elbows her ribs to remind her to tone it down. She makes up for the lack of volume with extra theatrics. “You mean, all this time, I was so close, and you never even gave me a hint?” She clutches her chest. “You watched me dig around, for years, knowing that I was going in a completely wrong direction?” She gasps. “You even mislead me on some of my paths!”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry!” Marinette grimaces.

“I feel so stupid!” Alya fake sobs, bringing a hand to her forehead. “What else have you been hiding from me all this time? That Chat Noir is actually Adrien?”

Marinette stares at her blankly for a second, before bursting out laughing. Chat Noir knows it must be nerves, but he can’t help but feel a little offended that the thought has tears streaming down her face, struggling to catch her breath. He shoots another death glare at Alya (what are you playing at?), to which she answers by a shrug and a smirk (sometimes things are best hidden in plain sight).

“No, I’ve seen them together, so it isn't possible.” Marinette wheezes, standing straight and nudging Chat Noir. “Can you imagine, though? That would have made everything so much easier.” She wipes her tears and takes Chat Noir’s hand in hers. “I don’t know who Chaton is. We’re waiting until Hawkmoth is defeated to drop his mask. Which actually might come about a lot faster than we thought it would.”

“I see.” Alya squints suspiciously. “By the way, you two seem pretty chummy, care to explain yourself, Mrs. Agreste?”

Marinette winces. It’s one thing being called Marinette Agreste, but it feels a lot weirder being called Mrs Agreste. “Well, see, Adrien and I are just a temporary arrangement.” She pauses. “He knows, and he's fine with it, though. I think. Anyway, you would’ve found out eventually, but I’m telling you now because I actually need you for something.” She changes the subject to escape further inquiry.

She quickly goes over the circumstances of their speedy wedding, leaving out none of the details regarding the blackmail and her suspicions. Alya regularly peppers in some gasps and “no!”s, convincingly pretending all of it is brand new information to her. Her reactions become more genuine as Marinette talks her through their plan to go and investigate the Agreste Mansion while the coast is clear.

“We haven’t told Adrien where we’re going, so he’ll be staying here.” Marinette exposes.

“Shocker.”

“But we’d need you to make sure my absence goes unnoticed. I’m giving you free rein, you can do whatever you feel necessary.” She nods towards Chat Noir, who takes out the Fox necklace and gives it ceremoniously to Alya.

“Adrien is going to be hiding out in a room and I can do anything to make it credible that you two are together?” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively. “I thought I was supposed to give you a gift today.” She grins.

Marinette’s cheeks heat up at the insinuation.

“Just remember our- THEIR parents are around, as well as the press so… Saying Marinette and Adrien are off for a nap might be sufficient, no need to be over the top.” Chat winks.

Alya looks at him inquisitively, and mouths “our?”. He shakes his head. He can slip up, too. Marinette doesn’t pick up on any of this, again. Chat isn’t sure how he feels about her being so absentminded. If the situation wasn’t as urgent as it was, he’d probably make his identity one of her wedding presents. It would relieve the stress, no doubt.

Unfortunately, the situation is what it is, and they can’t afford to lose any time when they're running on such a tight schedule. Besides, he’s afraid the revelation might put her off her game even more, at this point.

“Wait, so if I’m in your room with Adrien,” Alya puts her hand up like they’re still in school, “and you’re at the Agreste Mansion… Who’s watching our pals Gabe and Nath?”

“Nobody, why?” Marinette frowns.

“I just think it might be a good idea to have them surveilled in case they try to make a getaway. You never know what you might find.” She rubs her chin pensively. “Something in your whole blackmail story smells kind of fishy.”

“You think so?”

“Well, let’s put it this way; what could Gabriel Agreste possibly gain from blackmailing you?”

Her question is met by silence. Marinette shares a glance with Chat Noir, before looking at her feet. Once again, she regrets how quickly the events have taken place since she received the first letters. Had it not been so rushed, maybe Chat and her would have settled down for a minute, to consider that question. Whoever the blackmailer was, he must have wanted something.

“Do you think he might be in contact with Hawkmoth?” Chat Noir’s voice comes out as a strained whisper.

“I wouldn’t rule out that possibility.” Alya continues carefully. “I mean, if he leaked your identity to the press, or used any public communication to get the info out to Hawkmoth and Mayura, then I assume you’d give up your Miraculous, right? And the city would probably grant you some kind of protection for your outstanding services during the years; if not the Mayor himself, then at least the citizens. You saw how quick they were to help on Heroes’ Day, all those years ago.”

“Right.” Marinette mutters.

Seeing that her friend is not going to elaborate more, Alya continues. “So, my bet is that whoever’s blackmailing you, be it Gabriel or somebody else, is somehow in contact with Hawkmoth, and is standing by to send him your identity if you don’t cooperate. Hand him the element of surprise on a silver plate. What does the bastard want?”

“Nothing.” Marinette whispers, hiding her head in her hands. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice earlier.”

She takes a deep, shaky breath as her heart rate picks up.

This is taking proportions she didn’t foresee. Part of her feels like panicking, what a disaster of a wedding, the other reminds her that even if everything had gone differently, she probably still wouldn’t have felt ready.

She feels Chat Noir stroking her back soothingly, and she straightens up. She’s not alone. She’s got him, Alya, Adrien, and a whole dormant team of superheroes a few feet away. They can do it, together.

“Thanks for your insight, Alya.” She takes her hand and squeezes it. “I think I- we" she glances at Chat Noir, "were a little too close to the board to see the whole situation.”

“Always happy to help, girl.” Alya smiles back.

“Chaton? We’re going to need back up.” Marinette turns towards Chat Noir.

“One step ahead of you, my Lady.” He grins as he holds up the Turtle bracelet and the Dragon necklace.

Marinette smiles at him gratefully. He sees her face change as the plan she'd come up with earlier shifted in her head to take the new elements into account, her eyes squinting to see inside the room, nose scrunched what he likes to call the Lucky Charm way.

His Lady is back, and if her confident smile as she explains the first steps of the plan says anything, she’s ready to kick some butt.

#now onto writing chapter 6 #miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #adrienette #adrinette #fake wedding #ladynoir #marichat #i don't know at this point #alya césaire #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #inspired by fanart #elle writes #yccom

[eurynome827]

When You Met Chris Beck

For @the-ss-horniest-book-club Romcom Drabbles!

Pairing: Chris Beck x Reader

Word Count: 1,670

Warnings: Language, mention of sexytimes and angst following.

A/N: Direct dialogue from the movie When Harry Met Sally will be in italics, but there's a lot paraphrased to match this scenario and if you are as familiar with this movie as I am, you will hear the original in your head as you read. All credit to the genius of the late, great Nora Ephron. If you've never seen this movie ....please do as soon as possible. It is the greatest romcom ever.

*

"Chris Beck. It's nice to meet you," he said smoothly, and you took his outstretched hand, shaking it and introducing yourself.

"So," you shook off the pleasantries, jumping right in. "As you know this lab project will take 12 hours. I've taken the liberty of sketching out where we can each take breaks, and which parts of the project should be completed by a certain time, and," you paused at his slight chuckle, looking up from your notebook. "Something wrong?"

"No, no..." He waved you off, that smirk still on his face. "You're clearly very organized. Don't let me get in your way."

Your eyes narrowed. "I hope you're planning on doing your part of this project."

"Hey," he said quickly, clearly offended. "I'm just as serious as you about being here. I'm just a little more relaxed than you are."

Ignoring the 'uptight' implication in his words, you threw yourself into the project. You gave him one word answers to his questions, and dodged his personal queries as best as you could.

"Are you seeing anyone?" He finally came right out with it and you sighed, not even looking up at him from the microscope.

"Look, Beck, I don't really want to talk about my personal life. We're not friends."

"Ouch. Why don't you want to be friends? We're going to be in this training program together for two more years, you know."

"On different career paths," you clarified. "There's a good chance we don't see each other again after tonight."

"Well, have a nice life then, I guess."

*

Your boyfriend handed you a champagne flute and you sipped it gratefully. The welcome home party for Ares III was not your usual scene, and you were grateful for his support. You pressed a soft kiss to his lips, and pulled back to see a face you hadn't seen (in person at least) for years.

"I thought that was you!" Beck clapped your boyfriend on his shoulder and they shook hands, catching up for a few minutes. Every once in a while Beck's eyes would wander over to you and a tiny look of confusion crossed his face. Each time you met his eyes directly, just daring him to remember. Finally, he said his farewells, gave you one last lost look, and wandered away into the party.

"Thank goodness he didn't remember me. I had to do a 12 hour lab project with him in training and it was the longest night of my life."

Your boyfriend looked curious. "What happened?"

"He wouldn't stop asking me all these personal questions and finally I told him we weren't going to be friends."

"Twelve hours with someone is a long time. Maybe he was just being polite." Holding his hands up and stepping back in retreat, he grinned at you. "Just playing devil's advocate!"

"Okay, okay. Maybe I was rude, but it meant a lot to me to be accepted to this program and I never want to be narrowed down to 'someone's girlfriend'. No offense," you winked at him.

Beck found you again later, leaning against the bar waiting for a refill, and greeted you by your full name.

"Did you ask someone, or did you finally remember?"

"Who could forget that 12 hour project?"

"You did, an hour ago."

"Are you always this direct?"

"Always." You cleared your throat, and attempted a smile. "So...how was space?"

Beck choked on his drink. "I'm sure your daily briefings told you everything the news didn't. Maybe they missed one thing," he beamed at you. "I'm getting married."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Who is she?"

"You know her, Beth Johanssen."

"Oh." She'd been on the mission, too. "Well, good luck to you both."

"Thanks," he nudged your shoulder with his, "how about you two?" He asked nodding over at your boyfriend.

"Still can't stop yourself from asking personal questions, hmm?"

"Ah, right, I forgot. We're not friends," he picked up his drink and winked at you before walking away.

*

At the soft sound of a throat clearing, you looked up from the journal article you were reading, put down your cup of coffee, and stared for a moment before speaking. "Dr. Beck...hello."

"Hi," he gestures to the empty seat at your table. "May I?"

"Of course," you watched as he sat down. He looked different, was acting different. The light in his eyes was out. "I didn't know you'd transferred here."

"Yeah," he breathed out slowly. "I needed a change."

"How's..."

He shook his head, cutting you off. "We're getting divorced."

You nodded, looking over his changed appearance. His eyes met yours.

"How's..." He started and stopped as you sighed and bit your lip.

"We just broke up."

"I'm sorry."

"Me too. I'm sorry, Beck."

It was the quietest and most sincere conversation you two had ever had. He picked up his own cup of coffee and took a sip before asking, "so what happened with you guys?"

A long lunch of sharing sad stories became dinner...became friendship.

Best friends.

You helped him decorate his new apartment. He helped you bring home your Christmas tree. The two of you spent so much time together there almost wasn't time to see other people, but then you both did and told each other your terrible dating stories.

An attempt to set each other up with your other best friends backfired spectacularly as your best friend and his best friend fell for each other instead.

You were stuck with each other.

*

"Hello?"

Your tearful voice filled the phone line. "Can you come over?"

"What's wrong?"

"He's getting married!"

"Who?"

"MY EX."

"I'll be right there."

You opened the door, sniffling into a tissue, eyes red-rimmed and full of unshed tears. He followed you back to your bed, holding you while you cried and explained that even though you had thought he never wanted to get married, he had just never wanted to marry you.

"What's wrong with me?" You wailed.

"Nothing." Beck brushed his fingers through your hair.

"I'm difficult. I'm too structured and hard to deal with."

"But in a good way."

You laughed, despite yourself, and nuzzled closer to him. "Can you hold me for a little, please?"

He did - and when one thing led to another you both should have put a stop to it. You were vulnerable and so was he, in his own way. In the morning you could barely look at each other, and he dressed quickly and left.

Even though you agreed that it had been a mistake, a tiny bubble of resentment began to grow and grow inside you, filling up your veins and stretching from your fingers to your toes. When he finally confronted you and was met with your fury, he replied with indignation.

"You were laying there looking at me - don't go, hold me - what was I supposed to do?"

"Are you saying you took pity on me? Fuck you!"

The sound of your hand slapping his face echoed throughout the room.

*

You hadn't spoken in weeks.

You screened your calls relentlessly.

"The fact that you're not answering leads me to believe you're either (a) not at home, (b) home but don't want to talk to me, or (c) home, desperately want to talk to me, but trapped under something heavy. If it's either (a) or (c), please call me back."

*

One day, there was something about his tone of voice that made you answer the call.

"Hey, hi!" He sounded like an excited puppy.

You answered him flatly. "What do you want?"

"Um...are you going to the NASA mixer next week? Because I am, and if you are...we always said we could go together to those things so we wouldn't be alone..."

"I can't do this anymore, Beck," you cut him off. "I am not your consolation prize."

You hung up the phone without another word.

*

Standing in the corner by yourself at the NASA mixer, you finished your second glass of champagne and sighed. One more round through this room and then it's home with a bottle of wine, comfort television and your own self-loathing.

You stopped short in your tracks on your way to the door as Beck appeared, leaning in the doorway out of breath, as if he had run here. He spotted you, and rushed over, and you couldn't make your feet move. You were frozen in place as he approached.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking, and the thing is, I love you."

You blinked.

"What?"

"I love you."

"How do you expect me to respond to this?"

"How about, you love me too."

"How about, I'm leaving."

He grabbed your arm and you were too shocked to try and shake him off. "Listen to me! I'm sorry about what happened. I'm so sorry. I didn't realize how much I wanted you and then I was scared to lose you, and then I was an asshole and I lost you anyway. I can't be without you anymore, you have to believe me!" Your eyes filled with tears as he spoke, and you watched him - he was full of that light, the light that had been missing, and you knew he was telling you the truth. "I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."

You shrugged away from his hold, only to pull him close with both arms and kiss him, somewhat indecently, in front of all your colleagues at the NASA mixer.

*

Beck: The first time we met, we hated each other.

You: No, you didn't hate me, I hated you. The second time we met, you didn't even remember me.

Beck: I did too, I remembered you. The third time we met, we became friends.

You: We were friends for a long time.

Beck: And then we weren't.

You: And then we fell in love.

#HBC Romcom Drabble Challenge #when you met chris beck #chris beck x reader

[yourcutestnightmare]

Love Me Like I’m Yours

Hello horny goblins, this one is a change in pace but i actually kind of like it a lot hehe :)

Warnings- Oral (receiving), cream pie, love :)

Fog sticks to damp skin and colorful lights dance across a sea of bodies on the dance floor. You feel a hand grab your waist and you turn around to dance with the figure.

"Wanna come back to my place, baby?" The short man whispers in your ear.

 You step back and let out a polite "No thank you."  before starting to walk to the bar. As soon as you sit down a rough hand grabs your wrist and squeezes tight. The same man from before holds your wrist with a grip tight enough the cut-off circulation. He dug his nails in your skin making you yelp in pain. Scared you look for the bartender but to your surprise he is quickly at the man's side, prying him from you. The man puffs up his chest and tries his best to get in the extremely tall bartenders face to no avail. Starting a scene with the non confrontational hottie that came to your savior. The bartender motions over to security with a wag of his middle and pointer finger to come get the man. Security ushers the fussy man out of the club and the bartender lightly takes your hand in his to inspect the mark while asking if you are okay. You nod yes and wince when one of his lanky fingers graze over the nail marks in your wrist. He quickly apologizes and goes behind the counter to make you a bag of ice to put on your newfound pain. A new bartender gets to work in his place and he helps you over to a private room in the back.

"Thank you so much for helping me back there." You thank over the now muffled music playing at this club.

"Its really no problem at all, I wouldn't let that happen to anyone." The tall bartender states with a shy smile, guiding you over to the private room’s couch and placing the ice bag on your wrist.

You shiver at the feeling of the vents air hitting your exposed shoulders and the gentle giant takes his jean jacket off and lays it over your shoulders.

"Thank you so much once again, I can't begin to thank you enough." You acknowledge with glossy eyes. 

"There’s no need, really. This is my job." He puts his hands up to protest before nervously putting his left hand on the back of his neck.

"Do you have a ride home that I can call?" He asks with worried eyes as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

You nod no and he offers to call you a cab to which you agree with thanks. He dials a number and disappears into the office with his phone to his ear before coming back and handing you a cup of water. You sip it before he ends the call and offers you a change of clothes. You decline and ask him his name.

"Asahi." He answers.

"Well its very nice to meet you Asahi." You sing sweetly with a smile that melted his heart.

His name coming from your mouth felt great. Usually, security would handle everything but he felt that he just had to step in on this one. Something about you made him want to fight about you and that was very un Asahi like. He stayed in the private room with you all night while you waited for your taxi. The red ambiance from the LEDs hidden in every hidden crease of the room stuck onto your oh so glistening skin and glossy eyes. Asahi admired every part of you as you spoke about everyday things and got to know each other. He wanted you, but he would probably never see you again. A ping on his phone took him back down to earth and he walked you out to your taxi and sent you off home. He shuts the taxi door and waves bye to you with a huff of slight sadness.

You get home that night feeling like you forgot something when the warmth around your shoulders reminds you of a certain someone.

"Fuuuck." You moan out with a sigh, lifting your hands up to your face to be met with Jean cuffs. You feel a sense of security hit you and you hug yourself feeling the cologne hit your sinuses. Lost in the thrill of the way this complete stranger made you feel, you sit down on the couch and accidentally fall asleep engulfed in his comforting scent.

~

Asahi starts packing up to go home after the last call of the night. He goes to the office to grab his jean jacket before remembering that the cutie from earlier was jean-clad in what just so happened to be his.

"Oh shit." He mumbles under his breath seeing the rainfall from outside the now-closed club.

He runs to his car, getting in and letting his now damp hair down and running his fingers through it, thinking about the way his heartbeat got faster when you said his name for the first time. He wanted to make you his. He sighs and mumbles to himself.

"Oh, how I wish you were mine so I could treat you like that forever, mamas…"

He sat in silence before starting up his car and driving through the heavy rain, radio playing love songs after a hard day of work.

~

The next day you get a ride to the club right as they open and look for the one you want to call yours to no avail. He wasn't working that day. You give the manager your number and tell them to call when he has work, which they never end up doing. Weeks pass and all you can think about is the way your heart jumped when he held your wrist and loomed over you. 

Your fingers often found themselves snaked down your panties late at night, finding release to the thrill of love at first sight. The thought of him felt like paradise.

But your not his and he's not yours.

For now, that is.

~

You found yourself outside the same club on a Friday night, sitting in your car. You try to find the courage to go inside and search for Asahi but you can't. Not yet at least. A tall figure makes its way into the space between your car and the one next to you and you visibly get excited. You roll down your window to see someone who wasn't Asahi. Sadness fills your heart and you've had enough. You walk into the club, jacket in hand, and go to the bar. The manager sits you in a private room and you wait for Asahi.

He makes his way past the curtains and walks over to your sitting figure before taking a seat next to you.

"You're back." He states. "I thought I would never see you again." He says with a light chuckle, rubbing his hands on his knees.

The aura in the room felt heavy. Everything around you felt like a dream.

"I just couldn't keep myself away…" You giggle.

You hand over the jacket and he thanks you. You get up to leave the room before feeling a light hand on your wrist making you wince.

"Ooh I'm so sorry, i-i forgot." He stutters out worriedly letting go.

"It’s fine.." You reassure awkwardly.

"Umm, I actually wanted to tell you something."

He pauses

"I umm, I couldn't stop thinking about you.."

Without thinking you smash your lips into his. He goes wide-eyed and catches your body on his lap, now straddling his lap he reciprocated the kiss. You pull away and a string of saliva follows you out.

"I-i wow." He begins before you cut him off, lips locked once more

 The kiss is more heated than before. Asahi runs his fingers down your shoulders to your waist and rests his hands there, squeezing your curves. You yelp and he sticks his tongue deeper into your mouth. Surprised by the sudden confidence he has, he pulls back and looks down at where your groin meets his and looks back up at you. You nod yes and he starts grinding his hips into yours. Moving you back and forth on the cloth covering his cock, he groans in bliss. You moan lightly feeling his cock harden under you. 

The air gets thick as you two engulf each other in something you couldn't get out of your mind. Asahi moves you off of his lap and sits you in his spot before kneeling down in front of your heat. He folds your skirt up and hooks his fingers on your panties. Cold air hits you below and you hiss. Asahi looks up at you with glossy eyes and licks his lips with a smirk following close behind. A cold finger slices the wetness coating your center, gathering every drop of natural lubricant in sight before plunging two fingers in. You moan and ball your hands in fists holding your skirt up for the tall man. Asahi licks at your clit as his fingers continue to move in and out. His tongue flicks at your clit, making your legs go weak. You try to keep your legs open but the feeling is just too much to handle. Your moans fill the room and he moves his lips to your thighs, leaving a trail of hickeys and bite marks. Asahi moves faster and before you know it, your cum coats his long digits. He licks his fingers clean then continues to dive down, putting your legs over his shoulders, cleaning up the mess you made with his mouth.

“You're gorgeous, mamas..” He moans out, licking his lips.

The way you just got taken whole left you in bliss but before you knew it Asahi had you back on his lap, base of his cock rubbing your sensitive clit making you shudder and lean your head on his shoulder. He lifts you by your ass and puts his large cock at your entrance. Your face gets lifted to equal his and your lips connect passionately as you sink your body down onto his abnormally large member. Your breath hitches and he engulfs all of your moans with his soft lips. He helps you down slowly, distracting you with light nips and kisses as you stretch around his length. Sitting with his cock in your sensitive center had you in another world. He felt great and he knew it. You start to grind on his huge cock but the size makes it hard to ride considering he has to have you at an angle because it can't go in all the way. You couldn’t take in all of him and he made sure that you felt comfortable about it by whispering praises in your ear.

“You’re such a good girl. Taking as much cock as you can.”

You moan at the comment and he starts moving in and out at a comfortably slow pace. He was in a haze, you just did way too much to him. Asahi’s pace gets faster leaving you slumped into his chest for support. He got what he wanted, you were finally his. He had you all to himself. 

“You’re so fucking pretty when you ride my cock, mamas.” He grunts out, running his fingers through your hair as you ride his member to complete bliss. 

Your moans get louder and the red lights shine on Asahi’s chest pressed up to your shirt. Asahi snakes a hand up your shirt and pulls your bra down before sucking on your chest making your moans uncontrollably louder. He grunts feeling you tighten around his cock and he makes his way up to your neck, kissing to help you come right then and there. You feel your pussy release and you cum all over Asahi’s lap and he follows right after. He pulls out and you two watch his come seep out of your pussy and onto his pants with a shared moan. You look up at each other with a lip-biting smirk and a giggle before he engulfs you into his chest and lays his big hands on your ass, rubbing circles into the soft skin.

“You did so good, mamas.” He whispers out before brushing a strand of kinky hair from your face and kissing you on the forehead.

“I should come here more often.” You giggle, playing with the hem of your skirt while he continues to rub circles in your skin.

#asahi azumane #asahi azumane x reader #asahi smut #haikyuu #haikyuu smut #asahi x reader

[officialsimppage]

-Hospitality-

Request: Spencer reid a reader where the reader gets poisoned by an unsub. Like in the hotel room the « staff » left chocolate on the bed for hospitality. Spencer has to save the reader when the poison starts to take effect at the precinct. Confessions of love later in the hospital?

Hi! Thank you so much for requesting! I really liked this idea and I hope my writing fulfills your spencer reid dreams! <3 This takes place around s4!

Warnings: Mentions of poor living, poison, and some sad vibes.

“Ok, so there have been 4 mass poisonings in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. The first was at a winery, which killed 13 people, the second, at a bar, which left 5 dead, the third at a restaurant which left 20 dead, and the fourth, at a hotel bar which left 3 dead. The last two were only 2 days apart.” Garcia says, showing us images of all the crime scenes. “They are testing for poisons, but they are thinking it’s arsenic. Since they died very quickly.” she says with a grim face. 

“He’s obviously escalating, but why is the body count going up and down?” I ask looking at Rossi and Hotch. 

“That’s what Milwaukee police want us to find out. Wheels up in 30.” Hotch says looking at all of us. I get up and walk out into the bullpen with Spencer right by me. He tries to say something but then I cut him off by asking,

“Hotch I forgot some stuff for my go bag so I’m going to run home quickly and I’ll meet you guys at the airport ok?” I ask Hotch. 

“Yeah sure that’s fine.” he says.

“Ok thank you!” I say walking out of the BAU,waving at him.

“Be quick!” he yells back at me. I don’t have to grab anything. I just have to hide from Spencer. I can barely handle being around him alone. I can’t even look at him without wanting to jump his bones right then and there!

We hop off the airplane and head to the hotel before we head to the precinct. There were little rooms so I had to double up with Spencer. Great. I have to be sleeping with the man I have been in love with since I joined the BAU. Which was 3 years ago. That’s always fun, being in love with someone who is completely oblivious for 3 years.

“Ok Spence, here's home for the next however many days.” I tell him to show me the hotel room. It isn’t the greatest, but it isn't the worst. I run to the the bed by the window and I yell, 

“I CLAIM THIS BED!” I say running and jumping on the bed. I stuff my face in the sheets and inhale the linen smell. It's nice, comforting. 

“Omg Y/N you are one of a kind. I like that about you.” He says chuckling looking at me. Even though I’m not in front of a mirror, I know I am blushing. But I know it means nothing, so I brush it off my shoulders, but at the same time I hold it close. Hoping it means something. I get a text message from Hotch saying there was another poisoning so I get up and walk to Spencer and I say, 

“Spence we should get to the precinct, there was another poisoning.” I say with a sigh. I get up, grab the case files and start to walk out . I stand in front of the door and I think ‘why isn’t he coming?” I turn around and,

“Spence, are you looking at my ass?” I ask laughing a bit. He looks up with scared puppy eyes quickly trying to think of an excuse.

“I uh- no actually, I was uh- not doing that! I promise! I- was-” He says stumbling quite a bit. 

“It’s ok Spencer let’s just get to the precinct.” I say laughing a bit. 

“Yeah right lets uh let's go!” he says quickly walking ahead of me obviously embarrassed. It’s cute, actually. I follow him into the elevator and down to the car. 

“Ok Spencer I’m driving. And hey if I catch you looking at my boobs-” 

“Y/N!” Spencer says obviously annoyed by my joke. I laugh and start the car and start heading to the precinct. 

 “Finally you’re here!” Emily says walking up to me. “Hey, sorry about you being paired with Spence, I know you love him, it's just I needed me some lady time. I just needed a break from doubling up with Spencer.” She says with a sorry face.

“No it’s totally fine Emily! I get it and I’m sorry about always asking you to double with Spencer.” I say no realizing how much she must have dealt with. I mean what the rest of the group sees as annoying when Spencer rambles, I think it’s cute. “Let's go find out about what happened.” I say to her. She nods and we walk over to where everyone is sitting. Apparently, 4 people were in the hospital from a different poison. I guess it was slower. Way slower. She didn’t feel anything for 1 hour!

“ So why would he give someone poison, that gives them time to be saved? Is this like a god complex sort of thing?” JJ asks. 

“Maybe. Or it could be a sign of remorse.” I say. Maybe this son of a bitch feels stuff. Like actual feelings. Not ‘Oh! I want to kill people today!’ sort of feelings. I look up around the room to see everyone thinking. I accidently came into eye contact with Spencer. ‘Oh god, was he actually looking at me?’ No not possible. He was probably looking at the pamphlets behind me and accidentally met my eyes. Yeah, it was that. 

“Well we need to figure out what exactly she ate. Y/N, Emily, go visit Ms. Quirte in the hospital.” Hotch tells us and I nod and walk to a SUV with Emily. 

Were halfway to the hospital and Emily asks,

“So you are in love with Spencer.” She looks at me with sad eyes. Knowing how I feel. Being in love with someone I have no chance with. You know, when you are in love with someone you think it will pass over in a month. Then it becomes 3 months, then 6, then a year. Then three. Three years and I still can’t get over him. 

“Yeah, yeah I really am. It’s unexplainable. You know like I thought this would all pass over put here I am. Still stuck on him. After three god damn years.” I say with tears in my eyes, looking out the window. “Did you know I’m from Milwaukee.” I say as we drive by my old neighborhood. “ That was my neighborhood.It wasn’t a good one, my family was really poor. I had rough grades before. The only smarts I knew were street smarts. Then I picked up my grades and got a full ride scholarship to UW Madison.” I say looking at Emily, wiping my tears. 

“Wow Y/N, that’s, that’s horrible. But amazing. I admire you because of that. You know my mom was an ambassador so I never really worked my way up. I respect you for putting in all of the hard work you have put in to get into here.” She says looking at me with proud eyes. Almost like a proud sister. 

“Turn here.” I say coldly. Wanting to stop talking about Spencer and my past life. She nods, knowing I just need some time for myself. Time to think about my future and what i'm going to do to make up for my shitty past. 

“All we got is that she took a mint from her hotel room. He was here for her sister's wedding.” Emily says as we walk into the police station. We put our bags down and look up at the time. It reads ‘8:30” but it feels like 2 am. “Hey did you guys also know Y/N was from here? Like this is her turf.” Emily says acting all Spencer Reid smart. 

“Really,” JJ says. 

“Wow this must have hit hard little lady.” Morgan says. 

“Where ya from?” Rossi asks.

“Of course I knew it was on her resume.” Hotch says coldy.

“I also knew as well.” Spencer pipes up from the back of the room. 

“Spence! You scared me!” I say walking to him, distracting me from answering everyone's questions. . “Hey do you think we could get out of here, I’m beat.” I say whispering to him. 

“Uh yeah of course!” Spencer says in a high pitched tone. “Hotch, me and Y/N are going to go.” he says grabbing his stuff.

“All right, just be here by 8 am.” he says, walking back to the geographic profile. 

“Ok!” I say walking out with Spencer right beside me. We get into the car and I turn to him and I say, 

“Please don’t say anything about my life here. I sorta want to forget it. All of it.” begging him with sad puppy eyes. He looks at me for a couple seconds. And says, 

“Of course Y/N. Anything for you.” He says putting his hand on my cheek. I quickly pull my face away. That had to have been a friendly gesture. Right? I looked out my window to see that it had started sprinkling. Great, some sad weather to add onto my sad mood. Just what I need.

When we get into the hotel room I turn on the lights and flop onto the bed. Then I feel something hard on my thigh. I look down and see a bar of gourmet chocolate with a ribbon saying ‘Enjoy your stay!’ Huh. I don’t see any on Spencer's bed. Well, all I know is that I’m eating this tomorrow morning. I could seriously use some chocolate. I change into my pajamas and turn to see Spence already laying down in his bed. I turn off the lights and I hear,

“Goodnight Y/N.” from Spencer. He says it in a quiet voice, like he's trying not to disturb me if I was sleeping. Even though I was awake.

“Goodnight Spence.”I say, making it obvious I’m tired. I turn around in my sheets and fall asleep quickly. Dreaming not of Spence, but of that chocolate. Oh how will I enjoy it tomorrow. 

I wake up at 7:30 and get up to go wake up Spencer.

“Spence, we have to get up. It’s 7:30, Hotch told us to be at the station at 8.” I say shaking him a bit. He stirs a bit in his sleep and then opens his eyes. He looks dazed and confused. 

“Wha- What? Oh yeah right the Hotch thing. Ok I’ll get up. I’ll use the bathroom while you change.” He says slowly sitting up and stumbling to the bathroom. 

“Ok sounds good.” I say before he closes the bathroom door. I put on a white blouse with a black pencil skirt. I brush through my hair a bit and look at my night stand. I lean over and grab the chocolate and open it and take a bite. ‘God this is so good!’ I have three more bites and I look over and Spencer has come out of the bathroom. 

“Where’d you get that?” He asks, walking to his bag for clothes. 

“I don’t know. It was left on my bed last night that said, “Enjoy your stay!’” I respond. 

“Can I have some.” he asks, hoping to just get a nibble. 

“Nope, it’s all mine.” I say walking into the bathroom taking the last bite of the chocolate. I put on my makeup, curl my hair, and brush my teeth and I walk out to see Spence ready to go. I put on my heels and we walk out of the hotel feeling better than ever. 

We get to the station at 8:05 and set up in the conference room where all of our stuff is. We look over and we see there are more crime scene photos on the board. Crap, another poisoning. 

“Good you’re here. You missed a doozy. 18 victims in the hospital.” Rossi says looking up from his newspaper. 

“Gah, really?” I say with an annoyed look on my face. Rossi gives me an understanding smile and chuckle. I turn to the board and decide to get to work. I think, why is he now not killing them, but giving them time to get to a hospital and be treated? Why is there such a crazy victim count? It’s all over the place. As I ask myself these questions, I feel some heartburn and my throat feels tight. I dismiss it and pop some heartburn relief, blaming it on the crappy coffee. As I look on the board I see Morgan and Hotch walk in with a serious face. 

“Guys, we need to deliver the profile.” Morgan says with an urgent look. I look at Spencer and Rossi and walk out to where JJ and Emily already are. 

“Our unsub is a white woman in her mid 20s to early 30s. We have reason to believe she suffered some sort of poison event as a child, or it happened to her own child. Which has caused her to suddenly feel the remorse kick in.” Hotch says looking at the officers. I start to feel a little dizzy as Emily talks and I feel my throat tighten even more. Spencer is standing right next to me and looks at me when it’s my turn to deliver. 

“Our uh, ahem, sorry,” I say, clearing my throat trying to talk then I feel my throat tighten all the way. I can’t breathe. “ H- Hel- I ca- can- brea-'' and that's the last thing I say before I black out. 

*SPENCERS POV* 

I turn and look and notice Y/N say she can’t breathe and pass out. Oh god no! I immediately catch her in my arms and lay her down. Everyone looks over and gasps. But they stay frozen. 

“SOMEBODY CALL THE PARAMEDICS! QUICKLY!!”  I yell for everyone to hear. JJ quickly picks up her phone and calls them right away. Everyone tries to crowd around her and I push them all back trying to give her space. The only thing I can think of is to perform CPR. I start doing chest compressions looking down on her. 

“Y/N you have to stay with me. Come on not now. Not happening not today!” I say speaking down to her. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “You can't go. Not until I tell you I've been in love with you ever since you said hello to me.” That's the last thing I say to her as I see the paramedics rush in and take her to the hospital.

 *Y/N POV*

I wake up to beeping and bright lights above me. I turn to my right side and see a heart monitor and IV drip. I look ahead of me to see ‘ICU ROOM 2’ on the window. What happened? I look over and I see Spencer resting. I look at him and say,

“Can we get these lights off?” I barely say since I’m so weak. He looks up with a happy expression and starts tearing up. 

“Y- Y/N! You’re awake! Oh god I thought I lost you! You were out for a day! Turns out the chocolate was poisoned since the unsub who we caught by the way, didn’t like the FBI being brought in,” Spencer says rambling a bit he then stops and says, “I’m just glad you're ok. And since this happened I am obligated to uh say this but. Y/N I have been in love with you since you walked in. Your voice, laugh, smile, lights up my world. It is my world. You are my world. I love you. And I understand if you don’t feel the same-” 

I cut him off with a kiss. A soft one, because I’m weak. But it means everything to me. He loves me back and it’s not just 1 way. 

“Spence, I love you too.” I say crying and looking at his beautiful, soft eyes. I slide over and usher him onto the bed to cuddle me. He sits up so I can put my head in his neck. He looks down at me and says, 

“I’m so glad I can call you my girlfriend.” he then leans down and kisses my forehead. 

“And i’m excited to call you my loving, caring, amazing boyfriend.” I say with a chuckle. We lay down for a while until he pipes up,

“That was some great hospitality wasn’t it Y/N.” looking at me. 

“Spencer I love you and your voice, but please be quiet.”

#criminal minds #criminal minds reid #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer #reid

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Pas De Deux

Title: Pas De Deux

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Destiel 

Rating: not really needed for this fluff lol

Tags: fluff, pretty much just a whole lot of fluff XD

Summary: Dean is a closeted ballet dancer, and cas is playing the Nutcracker Prince in the Kansas State Ballet. When the ballet loses their Clara and Cas confronts Dean about taking the part along side him, will he be able to put aside his fears and let everyone know who he really is? All to help the man of his dreams?

MASTERLIST

AO3

*** My works are not to be posted on any sites without my permission! But comments and reblogs are love! <3 Please and thanks!!

And special thanks to @thebridgekid for reading, editing, and naming the fic! You’re the best <3

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

Chapter one

     The sky was dark and starless as Dean pulled the impala into the empty parking lot behind the old brick building. As soon as he cut the engine he felt the instant drop in temperature hit his exposed skin, enticing him to quickly grab his bag and dart across the parking lot as fast as he could. It was coming into fall now, and it was an unseasonably cold September night as he stepped out of the car. The back door was left slightly ajar as it always was, the bright yellow mop bucket propping it open as Dean snuck inside and closed the door behind him. Once he was inside the warmth of the heated building, and his shivering had subsided, he smiled while he watched for a moment as the janitor shimmied across the floor to the beat of the music pumping through his headphones. With a slight chuckle he walked over and gave the man a light tap.

     “Hey, Garth.” The man turned to him and shifted his headphones down to his neck as Dean reached a hand into his duffle bag. “I got your weekly offering, and thanks again for keeping the door open for me, man, I really appreciate it.”

     “It's no problemo, my friend,” Garth smiled wide as he eyed the case of beer he was being handed, placing it on the bottom of his janitor's cart, “always happy to help a friend in need. And as always studio nine upstairs is open for you.”

     Dean nodded in thanks and hiked his duffle back over his shoulder, and headed up the stairs. He made his way to studio nine and walked into the mirrored room, dropping his duffle and connected his phone to the bluetooth speakers. He put on some light music and did a few quick stretches before looking at the clock. It was just about midnight, which meant that he had around three hours to practice before he had to be home. So without wasting any more time he got into position, pointed his toes, pushed play, and began his practice of the first dance of the Nutcracker Ballet.

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The week passed by as quickly as it always did, and the weekend passed agonizingly slowly as Dean waited for Monday night to come. Don't get him wrong, Dean loved spending time at home with his mom and brother Sam, but he found that every second his feet weren’t tucked snugly into his pointe shoes, he was anxious and fidgety, eager for Monday night so he could get himself back into the studio.

     He had been practicing so hard over the last year, trying his best to teach himself every step perfectly, though without any formal training he was sure he would never be as good as the ballet dancers he watched online. The ones from the videos he used to try and teach himself the steps. And trying to do it at home in his basement wasn't making it any easier. Trying to make sure that Sam and his mom never never walked in on him practicing, keeping the music low to make sure they didn't wake up in the middle of the night and hear it, catch him in the act. But when one of his childhood friends got a job as the night janitor at a local ballet studio, he was thrilled. He knew all it would take was the weekly promise of a case of beer and Garth would sneak him in, he was always good like that. That way he wouldn't have to worry about his mom or brother sneaking in on him in tights and pointe shoes, having to explain that embarrassing situation to them, and he could practice Monday to Friday while they were asleep without any anxiety about it. And the arrangement had been working perfectly… until now.

     It was finally Monday night and he snuck into the dance studio, same as he always did. Made his way up to studio nine and danced his heart out until around three in the morning. After he was finished, the sweat pouring down his body was a clear indication of a hell of a good practice, he grabbed up his things and made his way back down stairs. He was just about to slip out the back door to head home when he stopped halfway out, the sound of music coming from down the hall hitting his ears. 

     He went back inside and closed the door quietly, sneaking down the hall to find the room where the music was coming from. But it worried him slightly to hear the music, aside from him and Garth no one was ever in the building at night, especially this late. What if this meant he couldn't do this anymore, what if he couldn't sneak into the studio at night because someone who actually went to this studio, who actually paid to use the building, was going to be practicing here nightly. And there would be nothing Dean could do about it. On a mechanics salary there was no way he would ever be able to afford to pay for use of a studio, and he couldn't risk bumping into someone that might get Garth in trouble for sneaking him into the building every night. It would be the end of Dean's secret ballet sessions, and he couldn't go back to trying to practice in his basement at night, it would only be a matter of time before Sam or his mom caught him, and he really did not want to have to deal with that.

     Eventually he found the room where the music was coming from, studio two by the front of the building, and peaked his head in the doorway to see who it was. It was a man he didn't recognize, but as soon as he laid eyes on him he was instantly entranced. He had never in his life seen anyone move as gracefully as he did. Every line, every transition was pure perfection, the kind of dancer that Dean aspired to be. Dean couldn't help himself but stare as the dark haired man continued his perfect rendition of the Nutcracker, the very ballet he himself had been working on for months now. He watched for an unknown amount of time in the doorway, in awe of his elegance and grace, before eventually the music stopped and he took that as his cue to leave before he was caught. 

     Just as he was about to turn down the hall he was met by Garth coming to stand beside him, both now watching as the dark haired man stretched against the bars on the mirror. “Who is he?”

     “His name is Castiel,” Garth answered, leaning against his mop, “I completely forgot he was coming, sorry man.”

     “Nothing to be sorry for,” he shrugged then turned slightly towards Garth to ask, “why's he here so late? I mean, I know why I sneak around the studio at ungodly hours, but he doesn't look like he's ashamed of being a ballerina. He's clearly taken classes, so why be here alone at three in the morning?”

     “He's part of the Kansas State Ballet. They recently decided to move from their previous studio and are now taking up residence here. They are going to be performing The Nutcracker Ballet for Christmas.”

     “Seriously?!”

     Garth nodded, “Castiel is playing the role of the Nutcracker Prince. Apparently he's the most dedicated member of the team, and most nights stays late for extra practice. So if you're going to keep coming there is a chance you two might cross paths at some point, it sounds like he’ll be here a lot, but I'll do my best to make sure that doesn't happen.”

     “Hey, man, I don't wanna get you in trouble,” he shook his head, “if the owner of the studio finds out you've been sneaking me in here at night you'll lose your job.”

     Garth just waved him off, “Even if at some point Castiel does see you here, I don't think he would be the type to go running to mommy about it. Keep coming, Dean, don't give up your dancing.”

     “As long as you're sure,” he eyed him, “but if at any time you start to get worried you're gunna lose your job, you tell me and I'll stop coming.”

     “Deal.” He gave Dean's arm a light smack, then as they watched Castiel beginning to gather up his things and ready to leave, they both turned away from studio two and walked back down the hallway together. “I'll walk you out, man, and I better see you tomorrow night.”

     Dean smiled and clutched at the strap of his duffel as they walked. He was glad he had Garth, and glad that he didn't have to stop dancing or start sneaking around the house again. “Don't worry, I'll be here.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     The next few days Dean continued to return to the studio every night, just as he promised Garth he would. For the most part he always arrived there before Castiel, did his two to three hours of practice up in studio nine, and every night before he left he would sneak over to studio two and watch Castiel dance. So far everything had been going fine. They hadn't crossed paths, and Castiel hadn't caught Dean watching him from the doorway. And tonight was just the same as all the others.

     Dean had practiced extra hard tonight. He managed to sneak out of his house an hour earlier than usual, then when he was finished he made his way down to studio two to watch Castiel dance for a few minutes before leaving. He was currently standing in the doorway to Castiel's studio, watching him dance the steps to act one scene six where the Nutcracker dances with Clara, when the shifting of his feet had him knocking over a mop that Garth had left leaning against the wall. He instantly panicked, and in a futile attempt to save the mop and not alert Castiel of his presence there, he lunged forwards to grab the mop, but the damage had already been done. 

     Castiel was mid dance when he heard the commotion at the door behind him and swiftly turned. He was now staring at a very stunned Dean clutching tightly to a mop and now standing a few feet inside the studio.

     “Can I help you?” Cas asked with a quirked brow.

     “I…” Dean scrambled and practically threw the mop off to the side, turning and grabbing his bag before darting back towards the door, “No, sorry, I was just leaving, I didn't mean to scare you.”

     Confused but also a little intrigued, Castiel took a step closer and called out to him, “Do you dance here?” Stopping Dean from leaving.

     He turned back to Cas, a little confused, and when he didn't say anything Castiel pointed to the duffel slung over his shoulder and asked again, “Are you a dancer at this studio?”

     “No, no I don't go here.”

     It was Castiel's turn to be confused now, not to mention slightly scared. He was, after all, in a studio in the middle of the night, alone, now faced with a random stranger who apparently had no reason for being there in the first place. “Then… how did you get in here?” He asked as he started taking slow steps back, trying to get to his phone, “And why are you in here?”

     “No, no!'' Dean realized what was happening, what Castiel was thinking, and held his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “It's not what you think! I’m not some creepy weirdo, I promise.”

     “If you don't dance at this studio then why are you here and how did you get in?” He asked with a little more force this time.

     Dean just sighed and figured since he had finally been caught, and now he’d have to go back to square one of not having a practice area, he might as well just tell the truth. He’d had a good run, but obviously it wasn't meant to be. “Look, I don't… I don't take lessons here, I've actually never taken lessons anywhere, but I love ballet.'' Castiel just stood and watched him with an unchanged expression, so Dean continued, “When I was younger, my mom convinced my sports loving, man's man of a dad to take my family to The Nutcracker Ballet when it rolled through town. I was really young but I remember it so well, and ever since I've been fascinated by it. But with my dad being the way he was, being a man of sports himself, I didn't really have a choice and he put me into every sports team he could find. I played lacrosse, hockey, baseball, soccer, basketball, rugby, you name it I've played it, and it got to a point where I felt that if I told my dad I hated sports and wanted to be a ballerina instead, he would have hated me. So I played all the sports he wanted me to play so that I wouldn’t disappoint him, and I decided to just secretly teach myself as much ballet as I could with the resources I could find online. 

     And so, when I found out a buddy of mine was the night janitor here, I made a deal with him. He lets me in after hours when everyone has left for the night so I can use a room upstairs to practice, and I give him something in return. I only do it because if anyone found out that I was in love with ballet, I would be the laughing stock of the town and my family. My dad would have been furious, and I don't even know what my mom and brother would say. Not to mention the fact that I would never be able to afford to take lessons or rent a studio here, not as a mechanic anyways. But this, sneaking in, was the one way I could still dance and keep everyone around me happy, so I could do what I love in peace.”

     When Dean finished he took a deep breath and waited for Castiel's inevitable explosion. It was only natural that he would explode, afterall Dean was taking advantage of Garth's position, using the facility for free, and was now interfering with the practice time of a member of the state ballet. But instead, all he did was nod. He didn't say anything, didn't even really look at Dean, just nodded. Which in Dean's mind was worse than having him yell at him.

     After a few more agonizing minutes of silence between them, he took a few cautious steps forwards and practically begged, “Please don't tell anyone about this. I don't care about myself, but I don't want to get Garth in trouble. The whole thing was my hair brained scheme, I don't want him to lose his job over me. And after tonight I promise you'll never see me again. I’m so sorry for disturbing you.”

     He turned to leave, and this time he made it almost out the door before he was stopped again by Castiel. “Why will I never see you again?”

     He slowly turned back, brows furrowed, “I just assumed that you'd tell the owner about me. I mean, I am using the studio for free, which I know I shouldn't be, but-”

     “I'm not going to tell anyone.'' Dean opened his mouth to ask why, why he wouldn't tell the owner about what he had been doing, but nothing came out. Instead Castiel continued and answered the unasked question himself, “I would never step in the way of someone trying to hold onto their passion.”

     “Really?!” 

     Castiel nodded and took a few steps towards Dean who was still stunned, “I know that ballet is not exactly seen as manly, but you shouldn't be ashamed of letting people know it's a passion of yours. Though I understand having a father that would frown upon the decision.”

     “Yeah, it's… it's not easy getting over the fear of how people will look at me differently when they find out, and…” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My dad, he made me out to be just like him, rough, tough, manly, and sports driven. So it's the only way people have ever seen me. If people knew I loved ballet, that I danced around in tights to music played by an orchestra, it would change my entire life.”

     “It doesn't sound like your father is still in the picture, unless that's too personal an inquiry. If so, please feel free to ignore it.”

     “No, it's okay,” he shook his head with a sad smile, “he actually passed away about four years ago. And even though he's been gone for that long, it's still hard to try and get past that fear he built into me, that if I was seen doing anything even remotely feminine he would be disappointed in me. It's so hard pressed into my brain that I should be ashamed of what I'm doing here. That's why I sneak out of my house at midnight after my mom and brother are sleeping, and I always make sure I'm home before they wake up. I'm terrified of what they would say if they found out, of how they would treat me, and it's all because of my dad's perceptions. It's… It's hard to get past.”

     Cas nodded and reached out to place a gentle hand on Dean's shoulder in support, “You're right, it is very hard to get over something like that, but perhaps in time you will be able to let the world see the real you.”

     “That would be nice, I hate sneaking around, I hate hiding something that I'm so passionate about,” he looked up at Cas, “to finally be free to be myself.”

     “It's a great feeling, it truly is,” he then, much to Dean’s disappointment, moved his hand from Dean’s shoulder to hold it out in front of him, “I’m Castiel Novak, by the way”

     “I know,” Dean smiled as he took Castiel's hand and shook it, “Garth told me your name, and that you're a part of the Kansas State Ballet. You're playing the Nutcracker Prince in this year's performance.”

     “That's right,” Cas returned his beaming smile, clearly proud of his position in the ballet, “I have waited my entire career to play this part and I cannot wait to finally be on stage as the Nutcracker Prince.”

     “I bet! And my name's Dean Winchester. Actually…” He rubbed a hand against the back of his neck and blushed slightly as he confessed, “I've been trying to teach myself The Nutcracker this year. I've been practicing the moves for months now, and I'm almost through getting the steps down for most of the ballet. As best I can, that is, I actually have no formal training.”

     “That is actually very impressive, Dean! Ballet is not an easy thing to learn, and teaching yourself is quite a feat.”

     Dean blushed even harder at Castiel's words, “It definitely was not easy. But I've been working at secretly teaching myself ballet for over ten years now, and-” He was cut short by his watch chiming and startling the both of them. He looked down at the time and panicked when he realized that he had been talking to Cas for almost half an hour, and it was now almost four in the morning. Sam would be getting up soon for work and he did not want to explain to his brother why his car wasn't in the driveway when he left for work. “Crap I gotta go! I have to get home before my early-bird-gets-the-worm brother wakes up and realizes I'm not in the house. But it was nice to meet you Cas, and thanks for not ratting me out.”

     “Perhaps I'll see you again, at least I hope that I will,” and he couldn't help it if he blushed a bit too, then added, “and next time feel free to come in and watch rather than standing by the door like a creeper.”

     Just before Dean was fully out the door, he turned back to smile at Cas one more time and said,“I'll take you up on that offer, good night, Cas!” And sent a wink at the still blushing Cas and then turned and ran out of the studio.

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

     After meeting Cas the week before, Dean would make sure that at the end of every one of his practice sessions, he left enough time to sneak downstairs and spend half an hour watching Cas practice. But on his way into the studio tonight, he snuck a peek down the hallway and noticed that Cas’s usual practice room was dark, door closed. He was disappointed that Cas wouldn't be there tonight, but he tried to shrug it off and use his practice to try and keep his mind off of the blue eyed dancer. 

     He was about halfway through his practice of act two scene eleven, when clapping from behind him startled him out of his trance and he turned towards the door. Though he turned a little too fast, and what were seconds ago graceful and coordinated movements, had Dean tripping across the dance floor and nearly landing him on his ass.

    Cas’s deep gravely laugh sent shivers through his spine as he caught his footing and walked closer to Cas. “Hey, Cas!”

     “Hello, Dean,” he answered as he too started walking further into the room. 

     “Wasn't it you who told me not to stand in the door and watch like a creeper?”

     Cas laughed along with Dean and shifted off the doorframe to stand properly, now face to face with him, "That was very impressive, especially for someone with no formal training at all."

     "Thanks," he beamed with pride at the compliment. Afterall, if an amazing and well known dancer such as Castiel Novak was saying he was impressive, then he must be doing something right.

     "And I see you have chosen to teach yourself the role of Clara."

     He blushed a little and turned away, rubbing the back of his neck, “She was always my favourite. She's kind of like the underdog, you know. She gets pulled into this crazy world and in the end she ends up coming out on top and winning the love of her prince charming.

     “She is an amazing character," he nodded and agreed, "and very inspiring."

     "Yeah, she is. And she gets her prince in the end, which is nice too," he smiled to himself for a moment then looked back up to Cas, “I thought maybe you ditched practice today, didn't see you in room two when I got here.”

     "We started on stage rehearsals in the town theater today, and we ended up being there longer than I expected today, so I was a little late," he looked up and smirked at Dean, "sorry for worrying you."

     Dean just smirked back and shuffled his feet slightly, then asked, "So, was it really good? My dancing?"

     "It was, I was very impressed at your progress." Dean smiled, proud of himself, and also blushed a little at Castiel's praises. "Though you do need a little work on some of your lines."

     Cas then pushed off the wall, smirk still plastered on his face, and wiggled his finger at a now mezmorized Dean as he walked to the front of the studio. Dean, followed him mindlessly and stood front and center as Cas changed the music on Dean's phone, then came back to stand beside him as the music started. 

     The song that played was the song for the first time Clara and the Nutcracker dance, after she sneaks out of bed and goes to check on her beloved Nutcracker. Dean's stomach dropped a little as Cas came to stand behind him, his nerves tingling at their ends, butterflies violently attacking his stomach at just how close Cas was to him. 

     The music started to play and Dean instantly got into position, though still very aware of Cas's closeness, especially when his breath hit his ear as he spoke, "Go through the steps, I'll show you where to extend as we go through the motions together."

     Dean nodded and gracefully stepped into the first few steps of the dance. He knew Cas was watching him intently, he could see his eyes on him when he turned, could almost feel the lust pouring off of the man as he continued the dance. But as the music poured over him, he put himself fully into the role of Clara, closing his eyes and letting her completely take over his body. Then Cas's hands were on him, slowly roaming softly over his body as they danced. 

     Cas's hand came to rest on Dean's waist from behind, and the other ran down his left arm as he lifted it up. He was now leaning back into Cas as they moved together as one, and he was sure Cas could feel the shivers vibrating through his body as Cas whispered against his neck, “Extend more, push the movements straight out through your arms, feel it at your fingertips." 

     Dean did as he said, eyes closed and tried to focus on his breathing, the movements of the dance, on Cas's hands still roaming his body as he continued the dance pressed tightly against Dean. His whispered praises against his neck had Dean in pure bliss, the hot breath against his skin as he whispered, "Good, Dean, very good. Keep going."

     And he did. They performed the entire dance together and Dean had never in his life felt so connected to anyone, so open and vulnerable yet so free to be completely and wholly himself. And before he knew it the night had passed. Hours had flown by in a flurry of roaming hands, hot mingled breaths, lips brushing skin, noses touching…

     An alarm broke the moment, ripping Dean out of his dazed euphoria and back to his unfortunate reality. He gasped and pushed himself away from a confused Cas and ran to his phone. His eyes went wide as he realized it was already after three in the morning. Sam was going to be getting up for work soon, and he still had to drive home and sneak into the house without Sam noticing. But he had been so caught up in himself and Castiel that he didn't even realize they had been dancing for so long. 

     "Dean…" Cas stepped towards where Dean was tossing his things in his duffel, "Everything ok? Was… was it me? Did I do something wrong?"

     "No, no! Absolutely not!” He quickly reassured him while still tossing things in his duffel, “I’m sorry, Cas, I have to get home before my family wakes up!" 

     And before Cas could say another word, he was watching Dean run out of the studio. 

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

                                                  NEXT

A/N: So this started out as just a short Christmas fic, and then it got a little carried away XD And it has since turned into a three chapter fic. And if you would like to be tagged for the next two chapter postings, or know anyone else who might be interested, let me know! Enjoy <3

#destiel #supernatural #dean winchester #castiel #fluff #sam winchester #dean winchester x castiel #spn #dean/cas #destiel fanfiction #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel first kiss #dean and cas #dean x castiel #dean is shy #ballet #ballerina dean #ballerina cas #castiel novak #human cas #kissing #kiss #supportive sam #sam ships it #sam ships destiel

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S4 Ep 26: What the Hell is Glued to Valon’s Ass?

Well guys.

I should preface--since it’s effecting the voice I have in these recaps quit a bit--I’m still in quarantine and losing my entire mind. So, I took a break from making a whole lot of content because I actually can’t judge if anything I make is good or funny right now. I think it’s a weird consequence of making just so many decisions navigating things I won’t go into. tl;dr, It’s been ridiculous.

And so I’ve only really been on twitter, and it just so happens, that there’s been a bunch of really insane and juicy art fights going on that have kind of ramped up in insanity the farther LA goes into the red, (since most of art twitter lives in LA since art twitter is elitist as hell, which was it’s own very spicy art fight), but one of the most recent ones was...I kid you not...about if it was possible to make cannibalism ethical...and I threw my Wacom tablet out of the freakin window was like...y’all. I’m done.

I’m done!

I DON’T KNOW HOW ART TWITTER WORKS. At all. I don’t know what the people want!

And I was like, I need to look at something that came out before this epidemic. I just need this and so we’re back to Yugioh. I have no idea if this post is any good, because again I can’t judge my own abilities anymore, and I probably sound very very salty, and whatever, but at least I’m not talking about freakin cannibalism in the middle of art twitter. At least I got out of that mess, amiright?

I can’t get worse than cannibalism. I can’t get worse than certain people at the top rungs of art twitter that are absolutely going to eat somebody at some point in their life and I don’t really want to be a part of that club nooooo thank you.

Like Yugioh is pretty effed up, and I will eat these words (just the words) but I’m pretty sure we’re not going to venture into cannibalism.

So anyways, I had to read my own recaps to catch up with what is even happening, and so for those that forgot, like me--Everyone is sort of standing in the middle of the road in San Fransisco and there’s a bunch of orcs everywhere.

Seto is still in denial. Maybe he just assumed Roland threw out a bunch of hologram projectors all over San Fransisco and so there’s just...monsters everywhere? I mean how prevalent is his hologram trash?

We barely even have parking, why would we have hologram projectors everywhere, Seto? San Fransisco barely has HOUSING. Even when Google Glass was a thing, we only whipped those bastards out at parties for the gram. They weren’t actually USED.

Somewhere in like...the grossest park in SF, (like there’s a light pole that’s tipped over? There’s weeds everywhere? No playground equipment? What is this?) Valon and Joey are...throwing cards at eachother. Not much to say about this interaction other than Valon is going to be in a robot suit the entire time, and no you did not miss anything, I just don’t go over the cards here, and...that’s his card schtick--he gets in a robot suit and punches you in the balls. That’s it.

(read more under the cut)

Speaking of getting punched directly in the balls, Mai is still on the hunt to murder Joey Wheeler, because that’s how she’s decided to work through her trauma. Just kill a completely unrelated person to the one who actually gave her the trauma in the first place. Sounds like American politics in 2020.

I will say, it is nice that we have a consequence to the Marik season and a little more depth into Mai, I just wish we had more of an explanation of how she jumped this far other than “I dunno, man, Orichalcos.”

Anyway, she sees the Bat signal and was like “Valon, you had one job”

Bro brings up that Mai seems hella jacked now and like...yeah...It has to be a real workout to do a bunch of wheelies all day on a heavy motorcycle. Go for it, girl.

Valon’s robot suit has robot vision, by the way, and it’s extremely 00′s UI.

mmmm just like Samus Aran.

Can’t have a Yugioh show without beating up your protagonists for a good while. At this point in the series, just comparing trauma of one character to another, you’d think Joey would be the one with trauma that makes him murderous as hell. Instead, he’s remarkably one of the most stable people here. Especially compared to Valon, who is this strange hypocritical broken record of “you gotta let Mai make up her own mind” while doing his very best to manipulate Mai.

If they had both left eachother alone, then Mai would have been way more likely to come back to her senses, just throwing that out there. Valon was a guy who latched on too much, and Joey was the guy who didn’t latch on at all--she needed a good in-between guy. A good in-between guy over the age of 21. It’s a shame that this type of guy does not exist on this show for her to hang out with. 

So Valon flashes back to the moments directly after he introduced Mai to his dad (Dartz) and Mai got possessed with Oricalchos powers.

After Mai refuses to join the team, she joins the team and directly kills Pegasus. To which, she was like “Oh yeah, I don’t actually have any personal agenda against this bastard. He’s just some guy who kills other people, this is just normal vigilante work.”

And so Joey decides he should share flashbacks, since that’s what we’re doing now, and we get a slight retelling of this scene in S1.

In this retelling it’s different because the hanky was actually holding the money card. This was not how it originally went, the card was given separately--but they had to do SOMETHING to make that hanky make some sort of sense, so it...has a card now.

That’s kind of the Yugioh solution to every problem, actually--just put a card on it.

(EDITORS NOTE: OK so apparently, actually-turns out the hanky DID contain a card originally in S1 but I just hella forgot--and normally I’d change this to reflect that but like my mind is full of quarantine spaghetti, so I’ll just leave it as is for posterity because I don’t feel like rewriting anything.)

What IS it though?

Don’t think about it too much, but what IS that?

On the other end of town, Seto remembered that if he spends too much time with these people, they might accidentally mistake it for friendship.

So...Seto Kaiba joined them so he could take back Kaiba Corp with the team, and then just...forgot I, guess. Maybe he got the munchies. A shame to be Kaiba, San Fransisco has NOTHING open past 11 PM except for bars. It’s not really like New York, SF sleeps really freakin good.

So now that Kaiba’s gone, Rebecca has to guess his password.

She’s supposed to be some top tier hacker but she doesn’t have a program to test these permutations for her? Whatever, girl.

And then, out of no, where Tristan had a panic attack.

Mom friends have to do that some times, they have to carry the guilt of their stupid children. But TBH, I kind of forgot that Tristan exists so it caught me off-guard.

Hey I kid you not, I went back to art twitter for a hot second, and there’s this person I follow who is very popular because they’ve drawn this one ship for I want to say 20 years--and they generally make very pretty art. And they recently drew their shipping pair on a set of matching toilets--facing eachother without any bathroom stalls--and they’re just...poopin while looking at eachother. I just...

What Is Going On With Art Twitter!?!?

I need to retire!!!

I don’t understand anything at all going on outside my bedroom, y’all.

I mean I guess I fell for it, I did click the image to see it in full--just in case it WASN’T a picture of them pooping but...no....that’s just what it is.

I need to delete my twitter account.

Anyway, stay safe out there, it’s a mess.

here’s the link to read these in chrono order if you’re bored and you just don’t want to go outside today, I get, I’ve been there, been doing that.

#yugioh #ygo #recap #photo recap #episode recap #yami yugi #seto kaiba #joey wheeler #tristan taylor #mai valentine #valon #still don't know valons last name sorry #rebecca hawkins #mokuba kaiba #s4 #ep 26 #oh duke was here too