#id ask what he was thinking but we all know the answer is nothing

[porcelana-r0ta]

let the mourners come

Title: let the mourners come

Ao3 Link: Only available to Ao3 users

Word Count: 3045

Summary:

It started, as most things do with Danny Fenton, as a joke.

It ended, as most things do with Jazz Fenton, with things better than they were before.

xxXxx

When Danny finally gets a Twitter, it’s during Elon Musk’s shit show takeover. He’s able to secure a good Twitter handle thanks to people leaving en masse and fleeing to Tumblr. He knows about things that happen outside of Amity Park (he is terminally online rather than chronically, after all), but he still doesn’t think anything of using @TheJoker as his handle, even knowing about Gotham City’s clown troubles. It’s just going to be a shitpost account, anyway, one that dances in the chaos of Elon’s electronic graveyard. Nothing will come about him using @TheJoker when he’s merely posting things like, “Just grew a new row of teeth!!! very pointy but can’t go to the dentist anymore bc they might turn me in to the giw.”

So Danny honestly never foresaw The Actual Real Joker breaking out of Arkham Asylum all the way in Gotham City, New Jersey, and deciding to get a Twitter account to terrorize people online as well as offline. And he definitely never foresaw The Joker @’ing him on Twitter, demanding that Danny change his Twitter handle. But, well. Here he was. 

[Image Description: A screenshot of a Twitter reply chain, starting with the real Joker @'ing Danny's Twitter account, which uses TheJoker as his Twitter handle. The Joker, who has a verified account, demands that Danny "change your handle", and Danny replies with a simple "no" followed by red heart emoji. The Joker Tweets, "Kid you don't know who you're fucking with," to which Danny replies, "Ye I do ur some dude w/ poor fashion sense and lame jokes. Maybe try badjokesbyjeff bc originality is ugly on u" followed by a shrugging emoticon. The Joker responds, "Check your DMs." Danny then responds, "Perf [happy emoji surrounded by hearts] I've sent you a time and place. Can't wait to beat the shit out of another disgrace of a clown." Someone with the username "Gregg rulz ok" responds to Danny's last Tweet, "Bro is absolutely RATIOING the joker but the clown keeps responding [three skull emojis] embarrassing frfr too bad he's gonna die for realsies".

End ID]

Danny is quick to respond and then makes even quicker work of roasting The Joker. This soon results in The Joker DMing him his IP Address and a creative threat. Still, Danny isn’t about to cow to a clown with no respect for the art of clowning. He replies to the DM: 

Cool, meet me at the Nasty Burger parking lot in Amity Park IL on tuesday at 2am

The response from The Joker is quick:

Fourteen year olds are too confident these days

Danny rolls his eyes and ignores the influx of notifications from Twitter, and instead makes another Tweet.

Imagine beefing with someone over a Twitter handle lol acc so embarrassing for him

He blackens his screen and stretches in bed, letting his spine pop more than what is humanly possible. He runs his tongue over that second row of teeth, his lips curling into a grin. 

xxXxx

Gothamite Twitter is blowing up over The Joker’s social media beef with a faceless shitposting account. Jason, upon finding out about it, has a series of reactions: first, he looks up the shitposter and follows them. Then, he finds the actual chain between the poster and The Joker, and his vision goes vibrant green when he sees that The Joker’s profile picture is of the second Robin, beaten and swollen in an abandoned building in Ethiopia. 

When his vision clears and he can breathe without wanting to kill, he likes the shitposter’s replies, and he calls the Replacement to see if the other Bats know already.

“We know,” Tim says in lieu of a hello when the ringing cuts out. “We’re working on it.”

“What, you think anything’s gonna come of it?” But even as Jason asks, he already knows the answer. The Joker is unhinged and once he’s threatened something, he’ll follow up unless he comes up with a “funnier” option. 

Tim’s breath hitches, and he says, “I’ve hacked their DMs. Joker knows the kid’s IP address and sent it to him. He knows everything from that address alone.”

He pauses in the middle of suiting up, “Kid?”

He hears Tim swallow, “Yes, kid. He’s fifteen. And he gave The Joker a specific time and place to meet up to fight. In his own hometown.”

“Are— are you fucking kidding me?” 

“No. B is already calling Nightwing. We’re taking the Batwing to Illinois.”

“Jesus fuck. I’ll be there in twenty.”

“Hood, I—”

“Shut up, I’m already in my gear.” He hangs up without waiting for a response. 

He refreshes the Twitter feed and barks a laugh at the newest Tweet:

Jason Todd votes, and the Red Hood leaves his safe house. 

xxXxx

A commercial flight to Illinois takes around two and a half hours. In the Batwing, they get there in an hour, and don’t even have to worry about the drive from Chicago to a small speck of a town like Amity Park. They spend the quick flight learning everything they can about Daniel James Fenton, the owner of the Twitter account, and they can all sense the growing tension from (and between) Bruce and Jason.

But, well. Jason doesn’t care. Let them be uncomfortable. It doesn’t compare to being ripped back into life and finding out his dad didn’t even get justice for his death. 

When they reach town, it doesn’t take long to find the Fentons’ home. This is in part because Amity Park is a very navigable town, and because of the giant neon sign proclaiming FentonWorks on the side of the building. 

“Is that a blimp?” Dick asks. “Why don’t we have a blimp?” 

“Where would we keep it?” the Demon Brat counters practically. “Goliath takes up all of the Cave’s extra space.” 

Jason rolls his eyes and knows veins would be popping out of Bruce’s forehead if it weren’t for the cowl. 

“Let’s go,” Bruce says instead, and they all make their way to the house. 

Nightwing, predictably, goes for the front door approach. Jason rolls his eyes as he takes one of the second-story windows and finds his way downstairs.

He gets down at the same time that a redheaded girl answers the door and nearly slams it in Dick’s face. Jason has to suppress snickers at the sight. 

“Wait, wait, wait, are you Jazz Fenton? We need to talk to your brother!” 

“...We?” she asks, then tenses and turns around to see the rest of the Bats in the hall behind her. Dick takes the opportunity to step in completely, closing the door behind him. “Wha— what’s going on?”

“Where are your parents, Jazz?” Bruce makes every question sound like a demand. Jason rolls his eyes from behind his mask—way to put the teenager at ease, B.

“Why do you need to know?” Her voice has a defensive edge to it. “What do you want with Danny?” 

“Hey, it’s okay,” Nightwing comforts. “He didn’t do anything too bad, just said some dumb things online. It’s not his fault.” 

This relaxes her, and her shoulders begin un-hunching. “Oh, s-so what’d he do?”

“He foolishly challenged The Joker to a battle in a ‘Nasty Burger’ parking lot tonight.” 

“You could’ve had some more tact, Robin,” Nightwing scolds. But the Demon Spawn just crosses his arms. 

“He did what?” Jazz shrieks. “Like, The Joker from Gotham? That Joker?”

“Are there others?” Red Hood comments dryly. 

Her face goes through several different emotions—disbelief, rage, fear, and then rage again, “DANIEL JAMES FENTON! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!” 

There’s a thumping noise, and then frantic footsteps down the stairs. 

“Wha? Who died?” asks the figure of a tiny fifteen-year-old, smaller than even Jason had been when he was alone with The Joker. He’s tiny and lanky. Zero muscle definition. Eye bags to rival the Replacement’s. Something ripples in the Pit, deep and distinct, but he can’t name what causes it.

Oh, this kid is so dead. 

“Danny,” says Jazz calmly while Danny blinks uncomprehendingly at the heroes in their hallway. She is solemn when she says, “I’m afraid I’m going to have to kill you now.” 

“What did I do?” 

She stares at him, “Why have you scheduled a fight with The Joker?” 

“Oh, that.” He rubs the back of his neck, “Is he taking that seriously?”

“Of course he is, Danny! It’s The Joker! That’s what he does! He can’t differentiate between a joke and reality! He would tear off his own face for the bit!” 

“Oof,” is all Danny can muster. He digs his phone out and starts typing before Jazz yanks it out his hand. 

“You’re fucking TWEETING about this?” Jazz asks incredulously, and Hood’s hackles rise. She even reads the Tweet aloud, “‘Just found out @TheJ0ker is being fr about fighting me. Sad but i can take a clown.’”

“I was gonna add ‘i’ve done it b4,’ but like the letter and the number four. But yeah.” 

“You’re grounded forever.” Danny opens his mouth to protest, but the look Jazz cuts at him is so scathing that he shuts his mouth. Hood is reluctantly impressed—she had what could be cultivated into a fantastic Batglare. She pockets the phone, “You’re never getting this phone back. Taunting The Joker to Amity? Have you any brain cells? What if he brings Joker gas with him, huh? Or any of his goons? What if he starts hurting other people? Have you thought any of this through?” 

Danny’s face goes from tired to chastised, his lips drawing into a frown, especially at the mention of other people. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think that he’d take it so seriously.”

“He sent you your IP Address.”

“I thought that was just a random string of numbers?”

“Oh my god,” Jazz despairs. “Oh my god. Grounded forever. See, I know you're lying to me. I know you're lying because Tucker, the nerdiest tech nerd to have ever been born, is your best friend.”

He rubs the back of his neck, “I tune him out?”

“You’re still lying to me?” Jazz scoffs and turns to Batman, “Do whatever you want with him. I’m not going to defend him from this.” 

“Hey!” complained her brother, but Batman just continued on, “Where are your parents?”

“They’re in Sweden for a science convention,” Jazz answers. “They left this morning.” 

Damn, Jason curses to himself. 

“Jazz, seriously. You’re not gonna let Batman kill me, right?” 

“Do you want to be cremated or buried, Danny?” Jazz asks blasély, and Danny gulps, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. 

“It’s my Twitter handle,” he mutters petulantly, and Jason can’t believe the gall of this kid. Or maybe stupidity. Audacity’s a good one, too. “If he wanted it, he should’ve gotten it first. And he gives clowns a bad name.” 

“Not the clown thing again.” Jazz digs her palms into her eyes, sighs, then turns to the heroes. “He has a whole clown thing ever since Circus Gothica came to town and robbed a bunch of jewelry stores.” 

Danny gestures wildly with his hands, as if demonizing clowns was the real problem and not the egomaniacal mass murderer who wanted to murder him for his Twitter handle, “Clowning is an art form, Jazz, and people like Freakshow and The Joker make a mockery of the very serious societal statements that clowns make!” 

All of the Bats very carefully Did Not look at Nightwing, who has made very similar rants on quiet patrols.

“You are never leaving this house again,” she says serenely. “And I’m unplugging the wifi router.”

“You would punish even yourself?”

“Oh, little brother. I would watch the world burn if it meant knocking sense into your thick skull.” 

“Okay, Christ,” Red Hood finally interrupted the siblings’ melodrama. An unyielding redheaded girl and a mouthy black-haired, blue-eyed boy? They’d fit in a little too well back at the Manor, so Jason needs to cut this shit out before Bruce’s bat-doption instincts start tingling. “Stop. Just… Christ. Stop. Is this how you always interact with each other?”

“Sometimes there’s explosions,” Danny pipes up, a cheeky grin on his face. 

Jazz doesn’t dispute it. 

Fucking hell. God damn it. I can’t. I just can’t. 

Batman doesn’t give anything away, “Robin and Red Robin will be staying here with you until Nightwing, Hood, and I apprehend The Joker. First, we’re going to check the perimeter.” 

“Oooh, I get to give the lab tour!” 

Lab?

“No lab. You’re grounded. You’ll only be in there for cleaning duty now.”

“Wh– hey! No fair!” 

“What’s this lab you two are talking about?” Red Robin asks before Jazz can rip into her brother again. 

She sighs, “Our parents’ lab. I’ll show you, but someone needs to stay with Danny.” 

“You act like I’m gonna run off and start World War III….”

“I wonder why,” she says sarcastically.

Batman nods to Robin, who nods back, and the rest of them follow Jazz out of the living room to a metal reinforced door. She types in a code—Jason catches the numbers 03-14-99. There’s an assenting beep, and she opens the door, flicking on the lights and leading them down into what is apparently a basement lab. 

A stone settles in Red Hood’s stomach, cold and heavy. 

The basement is large, likely the floor size of the entire building. There are several work tables, filled with miscellaneous blueprints and spare parts and weapons and tools. Against the farthest wall is another armored door, but what draws Hood’s—and the entire Batclan’s—attention is the south wall, where a circular hole in the wall was glowing a toxic Pit green. 

The stone shattered in his stomach, splintering into his body. Is it harder or easier to breathe? Jason can’t tell. 

“Wow,” says Nightwing. His voice is cheerful, but Jason can feel the stress beneath it. “Do I even want to know?” 

Wasn’t this supposed to just be typical Joker bullshit?

“Our parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz explains nonchalantly, walking further into the lab. “As in, ghost biologists.” She pauses at one of the work tables, picking up a green and white thermos. Pretty boring, considering the rest of their surroundings. 

“Ghosts.” Red Robin’s voice is carefully neutral. 

“Ghosts,” Jazz reaffirms. “I know. I thought they were crazy at first, too. But I can prove it, if you like.” Then, without waiting for a yes or no, she untwists the thermos, and there’s a bright flash of white, and a whole entire body sprouting out of it. 

“WHOO! I’M FREE!” cries the…being, pale and floating and lanky and entirely too big to have fit into a fucking thermos, of all the fucking things. “....And not in the Realms? Wait.” He stops stretching, descending to rest closer to the ground, but still hovering a few inches from the floor. He’s got green eyes and lifeless (ha) blond hair. He’s wearing a trenchcoat and a green skull necklace. Overall, he looks like the type of thug he’d arrest in the Bowery. 

“Hello, Johnny.” The man’s—ghost’s?—eyes flicker around each person in the room, his gaze becoming more and more confused and panicked as he takes in each Bat, before settling on Jazz Fenton. 

“Why are the fucking Bats here?” 

“The Joker’s coming to Amity,” she says. The ghost’s eyes widen. Jazz tilts her head, “How many ghosts would you say passed away in Gotham, Johnny?” 

As Jason and the Bats tense, this Johnny guy lets out a wicked laugh, “Oh, Doll, you have the best surprises. Why did we break up?” 

“You did try to have my body possessed. That ruins any good relationship.” 

“Man, but Kitty’ll love this. Thanks for letting me out of Soup Time, Doll.” He floats higher, “Any advice?” 

She throws him the phone she’d confiscated from Danny and he catches it easily, “Everything’s on here. Have fun.”

“What exactly are you planning?” Batman scowls. 

Johnny laughs, “Aww, don’t worry, Bats. Peace and love on Planet Earth, or whatever. We’ll make it quick.” Then, as the Bats leap into action as one, Johnny turns invisible, the Batarangs passing harmlessly through where he’d once been floating. 

“Where did he go?” Batman turns his scowl, angrier than ever, to Jazmin Fenton, who stares back unflinchingly. “He’s going to solve the problem.”

“You mean he’s going to kill The Joker.”

She shakes her head, “Oh, no. That’d just be asking for him to come back as a ghost. Could you imagine a Joker with powers like invisibility, intangibility, flight, and more? Johnny can be impulsive, but he’s smart. None of them will kill The Joker.” 

“Then what are they going to do?” Red Robin asks. 

“My parents are ectobiologists,” Jazz repeats from earlier. “But I am more of an anthro-ectopologist. I am concerned with the study of ectoplasmic beings’ societies and cultures. And while it is very ancient, there is protocol in the Infinite Realms—that is, where you go when you die, should you remain after death—to prosecute living criminals who have killed a certain number of Realms citizens. So you don’t have to worry about your moral code, Batman. The Joker will be tried by a much fairer court than Gotham can ever hope to have. No offense.” 

Jason stares at Jazz Fenton, who he’d pegged as the sane sibling. He’s not so sure now, but he can’t say he hates it.

“And how do we know it’s a fair trial?” Nightwing asks. 

She waves her hand, “Oh, as Gotham’s Knights, you’re key witnesses. I’m sure you’ll be summoned to testify. You will see then. And don’t worry about your secret identities—the dead don’t care much for that sort of thing.” 

“So if this is a ‘fair’ trial or whatever, The Joker’s going to be locked up forever?” Jason asks. “I mean, that’s the only option for shit like him.” 

Batman sends him a look, but he ignores it. 

“Well, there are several different punishments that could be deemed appropriate, but he’ll never be able to set foot in the mortal world again, yes.” 

Jason Todd grins, “Oh, I’m glad your brother’s stupid, kid.” 

She sighs, long-suffering, “Well, that makes one of us. Still, there’s more important things we should discuss now that you’re here.”

“More important than The Joker trying to kill your brother over a Twitter handle?” Red Robin asks doubtfully. 

Jazz smiles, sharp and dangerous, and asks, ”Have you ever heard of the Anti-Ecto Acts?” 

xxXxx

Several months later when Danny is finally un-grounded, he Tweets his last three Tweets before Twitter can become the foolishly named X: 

Imagine bullying the Joker so hard that it not only lands the Joker in ghost prison BUT it also leads to major law reform in the US lmao someone make the domino effect meme about this pls

Y’allre replying to me with thanks like i did anything other than be an internet troll. My sister literally manipulated local, federal, and interdimensional law so you should be thanking her. 

i just a babie 🥺🥺🥺

xxXxx

Thanks for reading! This is the whole fic, so pls do not ask for tags! Thank you :)

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #danny fenton #jazz fenton #jason todd #batman #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 #the joker #johnny 13 #severely ooc

[moonstruckme]

id love to request spencer reid with a shy!reader🙈🙈 i love him sm and your work even more!! if this doesn't appeal to you thats all cool i hope you have a great day!!!

Love you <3

Spencer Reid x shy!reader ♡ 1k words

Spencer peers over the top of his cubicle as you type up your report, the mug of coffee he’d brought you still full and no longer steaming. He’s got a hypothesis. 

On Tuesday, he’d brought you a coffee at your desk. It had gone over like most interactions with you; you’d gone a bit red in the face, thanked him profusely, and cradled the mug in your hands like it was the most precious thing in your possession. But when he’d left that night, Spencer had seen the mug sitting on your desk, still full to the brim with dark, cold coffee. He’d brought you another today to see if those results would repeat. He feels a bit guilty for not just talking to you about it, but he’s got a theory and he knows you’d deny it if he asked. So instead, he’s sneaking furtive glances over the top of his cubicle, waiting until enough time has passed to call it. 

“What’re you peeping at?” 

He swivels his chair and Morgan’s leaning his hand on Spencer’s desk all suave-like. Spencer makes a face indicating he should be quiet, but you look up with a quiet “Hm?” and there’s nothing Morgan loves more than exposing him for his schemes. 

“Pretty boy here keeps looking over at your desk,” Morgan says. Spencer turns again, and your cheeks are already getting pinkish. Another thing Morgan loves: bringing attention to you, even though it’s your own personal circle of hell. “I just want to know why.” 

“I’m testing a theory,” Spencer admits. 

Unabashed interest gleams in Morgan’s eye. He quirks an eyebrow. “And what’s that?” 

Spencer tries to convey some apology in his look, and by the wariness in your features you read it. “You don’t actually drink coffee, do you?” 

The response is clear even before you open your mouth. Your eyes drop to the full mug on your desk, shoulders hunching inward sheepishly and face taking on a fire engine-esque hue. 

“I don’t,” you say quietly. And if there wasn’t already enough apology in your tone, you tack on a quick, “Sorry.” 

“No, don’t be sorry,” he says quickly while Morgan looks between you two and the coffee curiously. “That’s what I thought.” 

“Hold up.” Morgan’s eyebrows go up, and you shrink further. “I brought you coffee just the other day. You’re telling me you’re not drinking it?” 

“No,” you murmur. You look as though you fully expect to be shunned for your answer. 

“Then why not say something?” 

Spencer thinks that’s fairly obvious, but he’s not going to answer for you. 

“I just…” You’ve got your hands in your lap now, probably fiddling with something under your desk in that nervous way of yours. Spencer wishes you’d warm up to them. You’re new and green and always so certain you’re doing something wrong, but he wishes he could pull your hands from beneath the desk and soothe them—soothe you—until you were comfortable. “I didn’t want you to think I didn’t appreciate it.” 

He can see Morgan ready to dissent, so Spencer cuts in. 

“Do you just not like coffee?” he asks, trying to stay as far from interrogative as he can for your benefit.

You do seem to relax a bit, pulling your stare from Morgan’s eagerly. “I just can’t do caffeine,” you admit. “It makes me too jumpy.” 

Spencer can’t really imagine you much more skittish than you already are on a daily basis, so he agrees that’s for the best. 

“I have seen you drink it, though.” Morgan’s voice is bemused. “In the break room. You had a cup just the other day.” 

“It was decaf,” you tell him softly. 

“We have decaf?”

“Have you looked on the top shelf of the cabinet?” Spencer asks. “There’s a surprising amount of variety. We have decaf, teas, hot chocolate mix—sometimes even apple cider mix.” 

You nod, starting to look less fidgety. Spencer likes to get you like this when he can. It’s an ongoing project of his. Maybe it’s just that it’s easier to relax when the people around you are relaxed too, but there’s something about setting you at ease in particular that makes his chest feel warm and full. That might be something else to look into. When he has time. 

“Yeah, yeah, the wonders of the top cabinet.” Morgan waves this off, as if he’s ever heard of it before (he hasn’t, Spencer can tell). “All I’m hearing is that you let us bring you coffee for weeks just because you were worried we’d bite your head off if you said something.” 

You grimace, but there’s a bit less tension in you now as you look up at Morgan, thoroughly chastened. “Sorry,” you all but whisper. 

“Fine,” he rolls his eyes good-naturedly, “I forgive you. Decaf only from now on, got it.” 

“Thanks,” you squeak as he turns around, sauntering back to his own desk. Your eyes find Spencer, meeting his for a fraction of a second before dropping to his chin. “Sorry I didn’t drink your coffee.” 

“It’s really fine,” he almost laughs, and the humor in his voice gives you the confidence to lift your eyes to his again. He’s glad for it. “I don’t care, I was just curious why you didn’t like it. And for the record,” he leans closer to the short wall dividing your desks, speaking low, “if there’s anything else like that, you can tell me. I won’t bite your head off the way he does.” He cuts a glance towards Morgan’s desk. You push your lips together, tamping down a smile. Spencer grins too, partly to encourage you and partly because he wants to. 

“Thank you.” Your voice is quiet, a new teasing edge to it that he likes the sound of. “I’ll let you know if anything comes up.” 

“Great.” He reaches over, taking the mug from your desk. “I’m going to go pour this down the drain. Do you want me to grab you a decaf?” You can’t seem to decide between thanks so much and really, you don’t have to, so Spencer brings you one anyway.

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x shy!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader

[norrisleclercf1]

I need angsty sebcharles where reader is having a panic attack because she had a week from hell that just exploded like a volcano and she can’t get ahold of them to calm her down. So they basically find her losing her shit in their home.

(Totally not base off my own life)

Love everything you do!!

- 🐮

A/N: Aight getting personnal here and it's finals week so yeah

You couldn't handle it anymore. You couldn't sit for hours on end reading garbled words trying to make sense of them. You were tired beyond what was considered to be normal. Drinking way to many sodas and energy drinks for the shaking to just be tiredness.

You tried to blame the restlessness on the energy drinks you've been chugging all day but you knew you couldn't keep up that excuse. Wanting nothing more than to close your books, you feel your chest tighten and your vision narrow. "Not good," You whisper and start looking around the papers and books for your phone.

You needed to call one of them, you didn't matter who, you just needed one of them to talk you down. Finding it, you shake heavily and hit Sebastian's caller ID praying he picks up.

"Pick up, please, Sebby, I need you." You whimper out, trying hard to keep yourself from breaking down. You were fighting a losing battle with your head and you needed his calm voice to talk you down, you needed Charles's soft french as he reminds you that everything is going to be okay. "Sebby, pick up." You choke on a sob trying your best to control the tears that were no falling down your face.

"You have reached the automated voicemail of-" You don't wait for it to finish before your hitting end and calling Charles. Maybe Sebastian turned his phone off again, he does get annoyed sometimes with it always going off. "Charlie, I need you." You sob out digging your head between your legs trying to do your soothing techniques your therapist taught you.

Yet again you get the same monotone robot voice before you throw the phone and hiccup, letting the sob rack your body. Standing up you start to pace the living room, pulling at your hair as you cry the world spinning. Why weren't they picking up? Did they not love you anymore? Have they realized you're not right for them? Why aren't they here? Why?

Your mind runs wild as your body racks out a loud sob and you drop to the floor as your body starts to go into survival mode. Your vision darkening.

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

"Think she'll like them?" Charles asks, nervous as he holds the little gifts and bouquet of flowers. They knew you have been studying hard and they wanted to surprise you. "Yes, Charlie, stop asking." Sebastian laughs as they push open the garage door and are slow to walk in, not wanting to alert you.

Stepping farther into the house, Sebastian stops when he hears a gut wrenching sound coming from the living room. "Y/n," Charles gasps, dropping everything as he rushes to you, Sebastian quick on his heels. "Oh god, baby." Charles is frantic seeing the state you're in.

"Fuck," Sebastian collapses beside his boyfriend as Charles wraps his arms around you. "Don't leave me," You sob, Charles and Sebastian share a look. You rarely had your episodes, but when you did they were never good and they tried to be there.

"Why didn't you answer," You whimper into Charles chest as Sebastian grabs your hand and does a pressure point to help you calm down. "We're sorry, fuck we're so sorry. We were getting to a gift and fuck we're so sorry." Charles whispers, rocking back and forth a little with you, which has you slowing your breathing.

"We're never leaving you, you know that yeah?" Sebastian asks, moving closer and you nod your head slowly. "It just got to much." You whimper and Sebastian nods. "I'm so sorry we weren't here. But, we're here now." Sebastian whispers, pulling you both into him.

"We're not going anywhere."

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 fandom #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 x y/n #f1 scenario #f1 angst #f1 blurb #f1 oneshot #f1 x you #f1 fic #poly!f1 #f1!poly #sebchal #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc angst #sebastian vettel one shot #sebastian vettel x reader #sebastian vettel imagine #sebastian vettel x you #sebastian vettel fanfic #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine

[iamnotoriginalphil]

She Said What (Melissa Schemmenti x f!Reader)

Synopsis: Seeing Gary get down on one knee shattered you. Tasting Melissa on your lips put you back together again.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: none

It was like taking a knife to the gut, twisting in your intestines, leaving you gasping for breath. You weren’t meant to be there. Eyes darting around the room, you were desperate for escape. You couldn’t breathe. One step back, then another, you fled down the hall before you could hear the answer.

Gary had asked Melissa to marry him. And you, like an idiot, had fallen completely in love with her.

When it had been nothing but a relationship, kept on the outskirts, it was easier. Avoiding the break room on Tuesdays, not asking about weekend plans or prying to much into her relationship, you could keep your friendship with her devoid of any details. It was easier that way. You couldn’t be plagued of thoughts of the two of them together. If you didn’t think about it, your jealousy couldn’t run rampant, ruining your friendship with her.

Now though…

You’d be seeing the ring on her finger. You might be invited to the wedding. She might change her last name. It would be everywhere, in your face, reminding you how the woman you love was not yours to love. That your chance with her had slipped away.

Career day was a bust and you needed escape and yet you were trapped in your classroom with the kids, praying the clock would speed up and you would have your freedom. Right now, Melissa was somewhere in the building, a new sparkly ring on her finger, joy in her heart, desperate to go home and celebrate with her new fiancé.

You felt sick at the thought.

The bell rung and you thanked the mechanic who had come to speak to your class, shaking his oil stained hand. Sinking down onto your chair, you buried your head in your hands, letting out a long breath. You would have groaned if not for being in a place anyone walking past could hear. All you wanted was to pack up your stuff and go home, curling up in your bed and letting yourself give in to the pressure building behind your eyes.

“You look like you’ve had a day about as good as mine.”

You startled, looking up from the hands your head was resting in. Melissa was walking into your classroom, hands thrust into the pockets of her leather jacket. You blinked, trying to rearrange your face into something celebratory, not the despair you’d been feeling all afternoon. Stretching your lips into a smile, you felt it stiffen as you looked at her.

“Hey,” you said, “congratulations. I saw the feed. It was a beautiful proposal.”

“It was,” she agreed, resting against the edge of one of the student’s desks, much as she had at the front of her classroom when Gary got down on one knee.

“You must be so happy,” you said.

“Not really,” she replied with a small shrug.

“Well, not when you’re here with me but I bet Gary is waiting at home for you to celebrate,” you said, offering her a sheepish smile.

“He better not be. I don’t need another restraining order,” she said.

“Ha, yeah,” you said, “wait, what?”

She quirked an eyebrow up at you. You had no ides what was going on, on the back foot of the conversation so quickly. When her lips quirked up, you lost any words to try and fix whatever situation you’d found yourself in.

“Hon, did you see my answer?” she asked.

“Of course I did,” you replied, laughing uncomfortably.

She sighed, shoulders relaxing, “I said no.”

“What?” That was not what you were expecting.

“I said no. You know I have no interest in being married again. He didn’t listen no matter how many times I told him. We want different things,” she said.

‘So you…?” You didn’t want to assume after your last assumption had gone so badly.

“We broke up,” she said.

“Oh, Mel, I’m so sorry.”

You made your way around your desk, perching beside her. You found her leaning against your shoulder, soft hair brushing against you as you curled an arm around her waist. Her head rested against you, shifting closer.

“It’s better we realised. No resentment, no cheating, no attempted murder. A clean break before anyone could get really hurt,” she said.

“Still, it sucks,” you said.

“Yeah, it does,” she sighed.

“I really am sorry,” you said.

“Really? I always got the impression you didn’t really like him,” she said.

You stiffened. She drew away from you, turning those beautiful green eyes onto you. You tried to stutter out an answer, to refute her claim, to lie right to her face. But there was nothing. No words came out and you were left staring at her, anxiety swooping in your stomach.

“You were never comfortable when I talked about him so I stopped but I always wondered what was wrong with him,” she said.

“Is that why you said no?” Guilt curled in your stomach.

“Of course not. I really don’t want to get married again. Once was enough. I guess I’m just curious what you saw in him,” she said.

“I didn’t really know him,” you said, offering her a non-committal shrug.

“But you didn’t like him,” she said, not bothering to phrase it as a question.

“It was nothing about him. I’m sure he was fine. Nice even. And you loved him. He wasn’t a bad guy as far as I could tell,” you said.

“He’s not. But I thought we were good enough friends that you’d be honest with me,” she said.

Guilt again, washing over you, wave after wave. She was still looking at you, a small lopsided smile both sad and hopeful. You sighed, leaning into her again, not wanting those eyes assessing you anymore.

“It wasn’t about him. I mean sure, I thought you could do better but it was more to do with me. I didn’t want that to get between us and ruin our friendship,” you said.

“Can’t you just tell me what the issue was?” she asked.

“I don’t think that will make you feel better,” you said.

She hopped off the desk, moving to stand in front of you. You swallowed past a lump in your throat, averting your eyes down to your hands clasped between your thighs. With a forefinger, she tilted your chin up until you were looking back in her eyes.

“I can handle it, hon,” she said.

“Mel,” you sighed, not sure how to finish the sentence.

“It can’t be that bad,” she said, “unless he was the man who mugged your nanna.”

“I don’t think he was,” you said, giving her a weak smile.

“So what is it?”

The finger on your chin was practically burning your skin. You took a deep breath, anxiety making your fingertips tingle and your stomach roil. She was still watching you and you couldn’t tell what emotion it was swimming in her eyes.

“I didn’t want to hear about your relationship because… because…” You squeezed your eyes shut, “because I was jealous.”

“Aw, hon, you’ll find your guy one day,” she said, gently nudging you in the shoulder.

That was not the answer you were expecting. You peeked over to her, her smile softened as she looked at you. You shook your head.

“Not of your relationship,” you said, shoulders slumping, not wanting to keep the secret after coming so close to telling her, “of him.”

“What?” she asked, her smile slipping for a moment.

“Mel,” you sighed, “I’ve been half in love with you for a while now. And I’m sorry that it didn’t work out with Gary because I don’t like you hurting. I don’t want you think this is me trying to swoop in the second you’re single. I’m not that unfeeling.”

The smile had completely left her face, eyes widening and the shock evident. You could only stare at her, waiting for some kind of reaction. Mostly you were waiting to be told to get the hell away from her and never speak to her again. Her hands landed on your knees, fingers digging in as she gripped you hard.

“Hon,” she said, voice catching and you squeezed your eyes closed again, waiting for the slap, “can you look at me?”

You opened your eyes again. She was peering into your face, eyes swimming with an emotion you couldn’t name. Her lips were quirked at the corners, just enough for your heart to begin beating double time. Hands slid further up your legs as she lent towards you. You didn’t know what was going on and you were scared to move. Frozen under her touch, all you could do was stare back at her.

“I wish I’d known. I wish you’d told me,” she said.

“Would it have made a difference?” you asked.

“Of course, hon. If I’d known…” She shook her head.

“It’s fine. I won’t make it weird. We can still be friends. It’ll be like you never knew,” you said, panic beginning to set in. You were desperate not to lose her in all of this. This was like your worst nightmare coming to life before your very eyes.

“I didn’t just break up with Gary because he wanted to get married,” she said, interrupting you before you could continue rambling your reassurances, “there was a part of me that knew I had feelings for you. He couldn’t be my miracle when there was someone else.”

“What?” You couldn’t comprehend what she was saying.

“I wish you’d said something earlier, hon. If I’d known then Gary and I would have never gotten to this point,” she said. Her hands were still moving further up your legs until they were holding your hips.

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“Hon, I’m saying I have feelings for you too,” she said, a smile breaking over her face, bright and heartbreaking and everything you’d wanted to see for so long, “I know this probably isn’t the right time to say it but you’re hot and I like you.”

“You just broke up with Gary,” you said.

“I did. Doesn’t change how I feel about you,” she said, shrugging.

“This is an emotional rollercoaster.” Your lips stretched into a smile, small and soft and the way she seemed to melt at the sight of it only had you reeling again, “isn’t this too soon?”

“Yeah, probably, so we’ll take it slow,” she said.

“Slow?”

“Look, I dunno how this is gonna go but I do know that I like you enough that I want to give this a go. I’ve been single for a few hours and I’m probably going to have to deal with stuff from ending my relationship with Gary so we’ll take it slow and figure it out together. Sound good?”

You thought about it, turning it over in your mind. You’d thought, in your wildest dreams, that if you were offered the chance to be with Melissa you’d grab it with both hands but coming right off the back of her break up it felt… tenuous. But giving it a chance might be the best thing you could do, if only to not have to think about the what if on your death bed.

“Slow sounds good,” you said.

She relaxed, as if she’d been bracing herself for rejection. The smile on her face grew more sure of itself, more playful as she lent in. You shivered when her breath hit your skin, and you looked up into sparkling green eyes. You felt your cheeks heat up under her gaze and blinked, trying to take in her beauty. Trapping your bottom lip between your teeth, you worried at it, breath frozen, watching her with wide eyes and racing heart.

“Must say, hon, you’re pretty cute when you’re nervous,” she said.

“Nervous?” you managed to squeak out, “I’m not nervous.”

“No?” she asked, drawing closer again, lips brushing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “are you sure?”

“Mel,” came out as a strangled noise, “this doesn’t feel slow.”

“Feels like I’m moving pretty slowly to me,” she replied, lips slow to press to your cheek.

A small noise came from your parted lips. She chuckled, drawing back far enough for you to see the way her eyes were smouldering as they focused in on your lips. You found yourself leaning toward her, drawn into her orbit, the gravity of her dragging you closer.

“I suppose one kiss isn’t so fast,” you murmured.

“I’m glad you agree,” she said.

Her lips pressed to yours, muffling a gasp. Arms wound around her neck, fingers burying themselves in red curls. Her fingers dug into your hips, hauling you closer until you were on the edge of the desk, her body caught between your thighs. Her tongue ran along your lower lip, teeth nipping when you moaned into her mouth.

If this was slow, you could get on board with it.

She drew back, making you whimper, fingers tightening on her hair. She placed one last chaste kiss to your lips before disentangling your fingers. The step she took back made you feel bereft before you reminded yourself that today wasn’t about you. You couldn’t imagine the emotional rollercoaster she’d been on that day. Your’s had been bad enough.

“Can we renegotiate this going slow thing?” she asked.

“No,” you laughed, no matter how much you wished you could, “we should go slow. I mean, what are your plans tonight?”

“Drinking wine until I don’t feel embarrassed that I turned down a proposal in front of Jalen Hurts,” she replied.

“Exactly,” you said, giving her an indulgent smile even as your heart raced.

She chuckled, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets, taking another step back from you. Your teeth sunk into your lip, swollen from her kisses, as you considered her.

“You might be onto something,” she said.

“But maybe, when the embarrassment has dimmed a bit, we can go out,” you said.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” she said.

“Great, well…” A smile was taking over your face, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I suppose you will,” she said.

Watching her back out of the room, all you wanted to do was reach out and pull her back to you. She paused in the doorway before she strode back to you, both hands cupping your cheeks and kissing you so thoroughly you lost any train of thought you might have been having. Nodding to herself, she turned her back on you, striding out. You watched her, dumbstruck, wondering how you’d somehow managed to get so lucky.

From the absolute travesty of seeing Gary propose to her to ending with the promise of a date and the taste of her still on your lips. You had no idea how you’d gotten so lucky.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti imagine

[remusluvr]

all these things that i've done | remus lupin

summary: Remus is drunk, you're the first person he thinks of to call. content: drunk Remus, exes, throwing up (and reader tells Remus to throw up so he can get it out of his system), unedited

"(Y/N)," he draws out, voice high and sing-songy. He's honestly a little surprised you picked up his call. You're a little surprised that you picked up too. It's nearly two in the morning. Anyone in their right mind would have woken up, seen that their ex was calling, and put the phone right back down to go to sleep. You couldn't though not with the achy feeling that formed in your stomach after seeing the caller ID.

"Hi, Remus. Are you alright?" you ask, voice raspy from having been woken up. You hear James nearby calling for Remus and Remus brushing him off so he can find a quieter place to talk to you. "What's going on?"

"We went to a bar. It's the bar that we always used to go to," he breathes, background much quieter now. He must have gotten away. You don't really know what to say. "It made me think of you. James told me not to call."

"You're drunk, Remus," you grumbled, fingers pinching at the bridge of your nose. Of course, he's drunk. That's the only reason why he's calling. "Go back to James and Sirius. Are they trying to leave?"

"No. But I want to leave."

"Are you really calling me for a ride? What the fuck?"

"No, no, no, no, no. I mean, yes. I am calling for a ride but I miss you."

"Call an uber." With that, you hang up the phone. How dare he call you asking for a ride after you haven't spoken to each other in months. You lost half of your friends because of your breakup. Lily and Marlene are the only ones that still talk to you. Every once in a while, you'll get a text from James but nothing important.

And you would think with the way you're fuming at him for thinking he could just call you up and you'd come running, that when his name comes up on your phone again you wouldn't answer it. You do.

"I'm sorry for calling you. Please don't be mad at me," he whispered. You feel bad. He's obviously drunk with no way to get home. You don't want him to take an uber by himself and the bar isn't too far from your house.

"Wait outside, I'll be there in fifteen." He mumbles a thank you before you can hang up on him. You huff under your breath as you take the warm blankets off of you, getting up to locate a pair of pants, shoes, and your car keys.

He's like an excited puppy when you get there, jumping up immediately as you pull in front of where he's sitting with James. James doesn't look as drunk as Remus and you're grateful that one of them had the hindsight to be a little smart. Getting out of the car, Remus is on you, pulling you into a hug so he can rest his cheek on your head, mumbling out a, "Missed you so much."

You try to ignore the pull his words have on your heart but it's only been a few months since you broke up. You haven't exactly moved on from him.

"He drank a lot," James explains, "I tried to get him to call anyone else but he told me that he wanted you to come and get him."

You spin in Remus's hold so he's pressed against your back, face buried in your neck. You're trying to talk to James but you can't focus, not when he starts pressing kisses onto your skin like no time has passed between the two of you seeing each other.

"Don't worry, I'll get him home."

"Noooo, can I sleep on your couch? Please?" James looks at you with a look of pity. You brush it off, reaching back to run a hand through Remus's hair. You say bye to his friends, pulling him into the passenger seat of your car and handing him a water bottle that you had grabbed before you left. "You're so sweet."

You don't say anything, climbing into the driver's seat and starting in the direction of his house. He notices and is quick to whine about wanting to be with you. If it weren't so late maybe you'd have more energy to argue, but you don't so you just start in the direction of your apartment.

"I think about you all the time," he confesses. That's bold coming from the boy who locked you out of his life. He broke up with you so why does he think he has a right to say these things to you. You have to remind yourself that he's drunk so you don't slap him across the face. "I don't think I'll ever get over you, sweetheart."

"Rem, stop talking," you say through clenched teeth. He doesn't know what he's saying and he won't remember it in the morning. Tomorrow, he'll wake up and scurry out before you wake up so that he doesn't have to face you, you're sure of it.

"I never stopped loving you. Was just scared to let you in."

There are tears pricking at your eyes but you won't let yourself cry. You won't. Because if you do then Remus will just try to comfort you and you'll let yourself get your hopes up. You don't say anything the rest of the way home.

He throws up the minute he steps out of your car. You groan, throwing his arm over your shoulder so you can help him into the house and to a proper toilet.

"I'm sorry I called you. Just need you. I hate not having you around."

"We can talk in the morning. Pull the trig and throw up so we can both sleep."

You let him sleep on the floor by your bed after he complained about the couch. Anything to just have him shut up. You don't sleep much, not when you can hear him breathing so close to you. Everything he's said tonight keeps replaying in your head as you stare up at the ceiling. If he really means any of it, he'll be here in the morning and willing to talk to you. If not, you'll block him and finally let go.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x reader angst #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x you fluff #remus lupin x you angst #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x y/n angst #remus lupin x y/n fluff #marauders #marauders era angst #marauders era fluff #smut #fluff #angst #harry potter #marauders era #marauders angst #james potter #james potter fluff #remus lupin fic #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin imagine #remus x reader #remus x you #remus x y/n #remus

[meatonfork]

Hi! Can I request for a grim au where, grim goes missing and the whole squad is freaking out. Then, grim just comes out of no where, covered in blood from head to toe after surviving an ambush. They take care of her and after she’s taken care of, they get ready to absolutely destroy the people who hurt her.

How Copy?

————————————————————————————————————————

pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: cod violence, blood, angsty, nudity (not sexual)

summary: when grim goes missing, the task force fears the worst of their friend.

————————————————————————————————————————

“grim, how copy?” soap heard ghost’s voice crackle through the comms. his heart sank upon not hearing a response.

“grim! how copy?” again, soap and ghost were met with silence.

“god, damn it. soap, you have eyes on them?”

“no, sir.” a sigh left soap’s mouth as his brows furrowed upon the realization that you weren’t going to respond anytime soon.

the last they’d heard from you was when you’d announced that gaz had been right, and this had in fact been an ambush. that was over twenty minutes ago, and nothing since.

rubble surrounded soap’s boots, crunching under his weight as he scanned his surroundings. fallen buildings and ash littered the ground as smoke bellowed into the air. sweat had started to form at his hairline from not only running around, but worry at your lack of response.

“can we look for them?” gaz asked as he lifted his foot over a large piece of building.

“no. we need to go to the rendezvous, we can come up with something there. mission comes first, you know that, gaz.” price’s voice was strained as he answered. he didn’t like the answer he had to give, but emotion couldn’t take control. they had a mission to finish, and then you came next. they could only hope they weren’t too late by the time they’d find you.

reluctantly, gaz answered his captain’s command, “yes, sir.”

and, to the rendezvous point they went.

it was right after sunset, the four men gathered around a table as they figured out their next move. the targets had been detained. a russian operating force who was in the process of getting a new weapon that could wipe out countries at the flick of a switch.

now you.

“you think they were taken? grim isn’t dumb enough to turn off their comms.” gaz was getting frustrated. he had come to a quick conclusion that they were going around in circles. no one could decide on what to do, which was rather odd for their group considering who they were. but they were frazzled. someone so important to them has gone missing, and they all only wanted the best outcome from this incident.

“no. absolutely not. they’re too quick. no way they would’ve gotten taken. they could be hiding.” soap quickly countered back.

“then why the fuck aren’t they answering?” gaz quickly stood from his chair.

“they could be compromised. unable to answer.” soap stared him in the eye, daring him to lash out.

gaz’s nostrils flared as his eye twitched.

“calm down. now. we can’t help them if we’re arguing.” price cut in, hands up as if to prepare to physically diffuse the situation.

“well, let’s stop goi-“ soap was cut off at the sound of a thump outside the front door.

ghost was on watch, “i don’t see anything. there’s no one there.” his eyes narrowed from behind his mask as he looked through the scope of his rifle. shifting ever so slightly as he scanned the immediate area.

“then what the fuck was that?” price stood, and made his way to ghost.

“no ide-“

the door slamming open startled all four men, weapons drawing in the direction of the door.

everyone froze as you entered the room, blood covering your small shaking figure.

your hair was matted with dirt and blood, eyes wide and darting around the room. your black fitted shirt was torn, and that was made the men notice your tactical vest was missing.

you right arm was raised to your left bicep, blood seeping from between your fingers. a sizable cut made home on your throat, making the guys’ eyes immediately hone in on it.

“grim? are you okay?” price gently reached for your figure, pausing when you flinched back.

“please don’t. please don’t touch me.” a raspy breath shuttered from your cracked lips.

your eyes wouldn’t meet any of theirs, a steady tremor racking your body made it almost impossible for you to continue standing on your own.

“grim, you wanna come sit down? we gotta check out your wounds, kid.” gaz stayed where he stood, slowly raising his hands to show he was no threat to you.

standing there a second longer, you nodded. no one made a move to help you, fearing you’d lash out. instead, they let you have your moment of silence and independence before bothering to help you.

soft murmurs from deep voices met your ears, but you made no move to see who was talking. you could barely even feel your own hand gripping your arm with white knuckles.

the couch cushion under your bottom barely even registered in your mind. you sat there, unmoving as you slowly made your way back to reality. five grueling minutes before you finally came down from the adrenaline flooding your system.

a sob wracked your body, making the men in the room turn to your hunched over figure sat on the edge of the couch.

“gaz,” a whisper left your mouth, “please. kyle, please help me.”

kyle’s hair stood on end as a shiver ran over his body. he’d never heard you call for him so desperately. you’d never used his name unless it was absolutely necessary. if asked how he felt right then, he would say he was terrified. no one actually knew what had happened to you while you were missing. anything could’ve happened in those long hours you were gone.

he quickly, but steadily made his way to you; crouching in front of you, as to not startle you.

“what do you need me to do, grim?” his voice held desperation.

“i need to change. i need to get out of these clothes, please.” your hand reached out to grip his shirt, knuckles whitening.

“okay.” he nodded.

helping you off the couch, he took you to the bathroom.

under your shirt was more blood. small nicks here and there littered your skin. nothing too major, gaz had noted.

“do you want to shower? i think it would help.”

you’d only nodded, and he turned to start the shower. making sure the water wouldn’t be too hot nor too cold.

he helped you undress and step into the tub. and when you meekly asked him to help you with your hair, he did it with no hesitation. you needed help, and he was there to do so.

after you washed the blood and ash from your skin, he helped you change into a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt.

“we gotta look at your wounds, kid. ghost can help with that.” gaz’s eyes were kind, and his touch on your lower back was barely noticeable from how soft he was being.

“okay.”

stepping out, you made a beeline to the giant lieutenant.

“can you help me with these?” your shaky hand pointed to your neck and arm.

he looked you over. you looked like shit. blood seeping from your wounds and onto your freshly clean skin. a nasty bruise was forming beneath your left eye and around your neck.

“yeah, c’mon.” he beckoned you over to the table.

he made quick work, cleaning and stitching the wounds. his touch was gentle, which was a stark contrast to the anger radiating from his form.

you cleared your throat as he wrapped gauze around your bicep, “are you… are you mad at me?”

his eyes widened and snapped to yours, “what?”

his harsh tone made you flinch.

he sighed at your movement, “i mean, no. why the hell would i be mad at you?”

“i didn’t answer my comms.”

he stared at you, dumbfounded. “kid, i’m not mad at you at all. we don’t even know what the fuck happened to you. why would i be mad at you for getting hurt?” he continued wrapping your arm, quickly starting on your throat.

“i don’t know.” you whispered back. tears pooled in your waterline. “i was really scared. they just came from nowhere. i wanted to answer back, i promise! i just couldn’t. and then- and then they broke my earpiece, so i couldn’t hear you. and-“

“kid, hush. it’s okay. you’re okay. we’re here. we’re safe.” his hand latched onto your shoulder, lightly squeezing.

you took a deep breath in, “thank you, simon.”

“of course. now, let’s go find the sons of bitches who did this, and go home. yeah?”

“they’re dead.”

silence overtook the room.

“what?” price moved to stand next to you, eyes locking onto yours.

“i killed them. i wouldn’t be here if i hadn’t.” you shakily ran your hand through your wet hair. “they’re dead. all of them.”

“okay, then.” price cleared his throat.

you watched in silence as ghost packed up the med kit.

“can we go home?”

“we’re leaving in the morning, kid. come eat and then you can get some rest, mkay?” price helped you up from your seat.

“okay.”

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: mmmm idk if i like this that much LMAO

#grim au #john price #kyle gaz garrick #soap cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost #cod #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #soap mctavish #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #captain john price x reader #captain john price #john price cod #john price x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz mw2 #kyle garrick #gaz cod #gaz x reader #cod mw2 imagine #cod x reader #cod mw22 #141 x reader

[imagines-all-day-everyday]

friends

summary: *yn* and damon are friends. good friends. just friends. nothing more, nothing less. until elena's eighteenth birthday party and the captain of the waterpolo team comes along, leaving damon wondering how much he really likes that term.

warnings: swearing, drinking, fluff, vampire stuff, cheating (kinda??)

"What do you think?"

"Give me a spin."

*yn* resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she complied, shuffling her body around in a circle.

"Oooh I really like this one." Caroline observed. She shifted on the small couch placed into the middle of the boutique as she took a few moments to run her eyes over *yn*'s body.

"I think this might be the one."

This time *yn* couldn't restrain herself as she threw her hands up in frustration and huffed.

"Care, you've said that about all of them."

"I'm sorry, it's not my fault you look good in everything!"

*yn* groaned in response as she shoved the curtain across the metal rod, concealing herself from Caroline once more.

"I give up." She exclaimed dramatically as she pulled the red dress over her head. "I'm just going to go with the blue one."

"If that's what it takes for you to stop whining." She heard Caroline mumble on the other side of the curtain.

"I heard that!"

The shrill ringtone of Caroline's phone rung out through the store.

"Oh sorry Elena's calling, be right back."

*yn* shook her head as she heard Caroline answer the phone and hurry out of the store. She slipped the blue dress back on over her head just as her shoulder bag began to vibrate.

She couldn't fight the small smile threatening to tug on her lips at the Caller ID.

"Well if it isn't my second favourite Salvatore brother."

"Ouch, why is it that you're always so mean to me?" Damon's amused voice slipped out through the speaker.

"Because being nice is boring." She answered as she slipped out of the change room.

"Using my own logic against me, I've taught you too well." She smiled at his words as she made her way over to the mirror.

"What are you up to? Down for a little road trip?"

"Can't sorry. Helping Caroline plan Elena's birthday party." *yn* twisted around in front of the mirror, scrutinising the dress from every angle.

"Ah yes the big eighteenth how could I forget."

"Why? Where are you going?" *yn* asked as she finally drew her attention away from the mirror.

"Tennessee."

Her brow furrowed at her answer. "Another potential Stefan victim?"

"Yep. The sheriff gave Elena another location."

"She's not going with-"

"No way. Told her I'd take it on myself."

There was a pause as *yn* glanced out the shop window to make sure Caroline was still out the front on the phone, her ears occupied and unable to listen in.

"They're going to be like the other victims, aren't they?"

"Probably."

She felt herself grow nauseous at the thought of what Damon would no doubt find in Tennessee. Even his verbal reports back to her had been enough to make her skin crawl. If there had been any doubts before if Stefan was a ripper, they were long gone by now.

"Are we ever going to tell her?"

There was a pause on the other end of the line. She heard Damon let out a sigh.

"If I find him and sort him out we won't ever have to."

"Alright just- just let me know how you go ok?" Despite her best efforts she couldn't hide the concern laced through her words.

"Always do. See you at the party."

"See you at the party."

"Oh *yln*-"

Damon's voice crackled through the speaker just as her finger hovered over the button to end the call.

"Yeah?" She pressed the phone to her ear once more.

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

"Wear the red one." *yn* swore she could practically hear his smirk through the phone before he hung up.

*yn* whirled around, the phone still pressed to her ear. Her eyes darted around the store and then out through the windows that revealed the main street of Mystic Falls.

Her heart was thumping in her chest and a blush was creeping up onto her cheeks. Damon was no where to be seen.

"Ugh god Elena is still complaining about this party, I swear it's like no one wants to have fun in this town anymore- are you ok?"

*yn* turned to see Caroline staring at her, brow raised when she noticed her flushed complexion.

"Uh- yeah fine." *yn* lied, swallowing as she turned to go back into the change room.

"Ok..." Caroline studied her before turning her attention back to her phone.

She glanced up once more after a few moments to see *yn* emerging from the change room, back in her jeans and tank top. Her brow furrowed.

"I thought you were getting the blue one?"

"Yeah I um-"

*yn* glanced down at the red material clutched in her arms.

"I changed my mind."

The bass felt like it was pounding against her skull. Sweaty bodies were brushing against her on all sides. She could already feel the back of her knees start to slick with sweat as she weaved through the crowd.

Apparently this was Caroline's definition of a 'small' party. Bodies occupied every square inch of the Salvatore boarding house. Her eyes slid over the hundred or so faces. Some she recognised from school. Others she had never seen before in her life.

She smoothed down the front of her short dress as she stepped around a couple making out at the bottom of the staircase. She could feel multiple sets of eyes on her as she moved deeper into the house. The waterpolo team bunched in the corner didn't even make an attempt to look away as she walked past.

She smirked to herself. She'd shown up with the intention of looking hot, so far it seemed to be going according to plan. She surveyed the crowd once more. A flash of blonde hair caught her eye, which she instantly made a beeline for.

"Care!"

Caroline swung around at *yn*'s voice, a grin spreading across her lips as she looked her up and down.

"Oh my freaking god you look so hot." She squealed as she lurched forward and wrapped her arms her shoulders.

*yn* laughed and squeezed her tightly back. "So do you."

"Who the hell are these people?"

"Friends of friends." Caroline shrugged. *yn* raised a brow at her before turning to survey the room. Her eyes involuntarily searching for one person in particular.

"C'mon, I need a shot." Caroline announced as she grabbed *yn*'s hand and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* grinned as she let Caroline lead her through the crowd.

"Is everyone here?" *yn* shouted over the thumping bass.

"I think so." Caroline shouted back, her eyes gleaming as she spotted a bottle of tequila.

*yn* turned around, her eyes scanning the crowd once more.

"Oh actually I haven't seen that reporter girl yet, what's her name - Andrea or-"

"What?" *yn*'s neck snapped back around to look at Caroline.

"Andie's coming?"

Caroline paused and glanced up at her. She had just been about to pour the clear liquid into a shot glass.

"Yeah, Damon insisted on inviting her. Poor girl probably didn't have a choice knowing him." Caroline remarked as she turned her attention back to the bottle in her hand.

"Right." *yn* swallowed. She pressed her lips into a hard line. "Yeah."

She felt sick as she glanced down at the tight red dress covering her body. She suddenly felt incredibly stupid. That for even a moment she had let herself divulge in suppressed fantasies, that she'd let herself get hopeful that something might happen with the vampire that was supposed to be nothing more than one of her good friends.

That she had let herself indulge those feelings that she had always worked so hard to deny and ignore.

"Ok here-" Caroline cut herself off, the shot in her hand for *yn* to take suspended in midair.

She studied her friend for a moment. She withheld a sigh when she saw the tears threatening to pool in *yn*'s eyes.

"Ok no." She announced, slamming the shots back onto the table. The sound made *yn* jump, her eyes focusing back on her friend.

"We are so not doing this tonight."

"Wha-"

"You are not letting your night get ruined by Damon Salvatore of all people."

"Care-" *yn* began, glancing over her shoulder quickly to make sure Damon wasn't in sight before turning back to her. "He's my friend."

"Oh please." Caroline scoffed as she folded her arms in front of her chest. "You don't think I can tell when my best friend is crushing on a guy?"

*yn* felt her cheeks redden.

"Although I've been trying to ignore it given it is Damon-"

She ignored the glare *yn* gave her. "- and I've been hoping it was just a little phase, but clearly that was wishful thinking." She sighed as she gestured to *yn* who had opened her mouth to respond.

"I've known for months, so don't even try and deny it."

*yn* clamped her mouth shut. She felt her resolve weaken under Caroline's stare.

"If you tell a soul-"

"-you'll stake me I know. Your secret's safe with me." Caroline insisted.

With that *yn* felt her shoulders slump in defeat as her barriers finally crumbled down.

"I like him. A lot." She admitted.

"I think I always knew there was something there, but I don't think I realised how much until-" She cut herself off and bit her lip as she felt her eyes begin to water.

Caroline's hard gaze softened at the sight. "Hey, it's ok." Caroline comforted her, running a hand down her arm. "Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it?"

"No." *yn* shook her head as she sniffed. "No, like you said. I don't want this to ruin my night. It's been so long since we've actually had fun."

It was true. Before Damon and Stefan returned to Mystic Falls, *yn* was the life of the party, drinking almost every weekend and staying out way past curfew - much to her parents chagrin. But now, she could barely even remember what it felt like to be drunk and let loose.

Her answer made Caroline's eyes brighten. "Exactly, and you look way too hot right now to be crying over a guy."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze to look around the room of warm bodies. Her eyes flitted over a few guys, her confidence sparking once more when she saw their eyes were already on her.

"You could have literally anyone you want in here."

She could have anyone she wanted, except for Damon. Almost as if she could read her mind, Caroline grabbed her hand.

"Ok, in my opinion you have two options right now." Caroline continued.

"You can go and tell Damon how you feel and let it out, or-" She paused as she raised the cup up to *yn*'s face. "You can get trashed with me and forget all about stupid boys."

*yn* raised a brow, not missing the hint of bitterness in Caroline's voice. It sounded a little bit too personal to just be about Damon. She decided to let it go however, as her eyes flickered down to the red solo cup and then back at Caroline.

"Make it a double."

Caroline's grin widened, "now you're sounding like my best friend."

*yn* watched as she eagerly poured extra into her cup, internally wincing at how free handed she was being with the liquor.

"To being hot and getting drunk." Caroline toasted once she'd handed *yn* her drink.

"To being hot and getting drunk." *yn* echoed, clinking their cups together before pressing it to her lips. She winced as the liquor burned her throat. She definitely had not missed that feeling.

"Ugh, speak of the devil."

*yn* followed Caroline's gaze behind her shoulder. She twisted around to see Elena and Damon making their way down the stairs.

Damon was dressed in black jeans and a blue button down with the sleeves rolled up his forearms. He looked annoyingly hot, as usual.

The pair hadn't spotted them yet as Caroline and *yn* made their way through the crowd towards them.

"Happy birthday!" Her and Caroline chorused as they reached them.

"You look amazing." *yn* grinned as she pulled her other best friend in for a tight hug.

"Thank you, so do you. The red is hot." Elena chuckled as they pulled away from each other.

*yn* could feel Damon's eyes on her but kept her focus on Elena.

"You like?" Caroline asked her, gesturing to the party around them.

"I-" Elena cut herself off as she glanced around the room. "This is keeping it small?"

Caroline didn't answer her, instead shooting her an innocent smile.

Elena couldn't fight the grin spreading across her lips as she let out a dramatic and defeated huff, "what are we drinking?"

Caroline giggled and gripped Elena's arm and tugged her towards the drinks table.

*yn* watched them go, feeling Damon's eyes still on her. Caroline's words echoed in her head. She was right. Just because she had feelings doesn't mean she had to act weird or let it get to her. He was still her friend, first and foremost. There was no reason to change how she was around him.

She took a breath and made sure her face was the perfect picture of normalcy before turning around to meet his gaze.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself." He answered, his eyes dragging down her front before flicking up to her face.

"Nice dress."

"Thanks, I had help picking it out."

A smirk twitched up onto his lips. "Well, they've got excellent taste. They're a good friend."

Friend. The word stung more than it usually did.

She forced a smile onto her lips, "that they are."

"*yn*! Get over here we're doing birthday shots!" Elena called out to her.

*yn* glanced over her shoulder and nodded before looking back up at Damon.

"Sorry, duty calls." She shrugged innocently.

"Please." He gestured for her to go. It was then that she noticed the bottle of bourbon in his hand. "Don't let me stop you."

She shot him one last grin before making her way towards Elena and Caroline.

Damon's eyes followed her the whole way there.

"I am every parents worst nightmare." Alaric sighed. "I am the chaperone teacher from hell."

"I love high school parties." Damon grinned as he jumped up onto the ledge.

"Isn't Andie supposed to be coming?"

"10 o'clock broadcast, she'll be here in a little bit."

"Uh huh." Ric remarked as he took a deep drink. Damon's brow furrowed as he glanced up from his glass.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"What is what supposed to mean?"

"That little face you just made. Something wrong with Andie?"

"With your fake compelled girlfriend? No not at all." Ric drawled sarcastically.

"Hey it's a complicated dynamic ok."

"Or it's a distraction."

Damon's eyes narrowed even further. "Distraction from what exactly Ric?"

"Hey Mr Saltzman!" A loud voice prevented Ric from answering.

They both glanced up to see a tall, muscular guy approaching them through the door that led into the party. He was wearing a Mystic Falls High varsity jacket.

Damon frowned when he saw a flash of red behind him. He froze mid sip when he saw that flash of red belonged to *yn*'s dress.

"Jake." Alaric nodded in greeting.

Jake came to a stand still in front of them, a wide grin on his face. "*yn* told me you were chaperoning."

Then all eyes were on *yn*, who was now standing beside him. Jake's arm wrapped around her shoulders to pull her against him.

Damon felt something twist inside him.

"Had to see it for myself."

"Here I am." Alaric chuckled awkwardly.

"See I told you!" She giggled as she swayed against him. Her eyes were glassy and cheeks were flushed. A bottle in her hand.

"Badass Mr Saltzman." Jake complimented. It was then that his eyes landed on Damon. Confusion flashed across his features as he tried to place him.

"Oh Jake this is my friend." *yn* introduced, "Damon Salvatore."

Friend. It was what he was to her, the correct title to describe their relationship. But tonight, in front of this guy, it prodded something inside him. Unfurling inside him like a wasp injecting its barbed stinger into his veins.

"Salvatore... oh shit so you own this place?" Jake's eyes lit up in recognition.

"Home sweet home." Damon remarked, unable to hide the annoyance in his voice as he took a deep sip of his bourbon.

"It's dope. Sickest party location for sure." Jake complimented.

"Oi Masters!"

The group turned around to see another boy standing at the precipice of the home. "We're about to start another round, get your ass in here!"

"Beer pong." Jake explained to the group. "I'm the reigning champion." He boasted proudly. Damon rolled his eyes when Jake glanced down at *yn* for a reaction who giggled and patted his chest.

"I didn't realise we were in the presence of such a high performance athlete." He remarked earning a snort from Ric.

The liquor swishing around in Jake's stomach seemed to hinder his ability to pick up on Damon's sarcasm as he looked up and shot him another grin.

"Alright, it was nice meeting you Damon. See you in school Mr Saltzman."

Ric tilted his head in acknowledgement and Damon simply shot him a tight lipped smile.

"See you guys later." *yn* waved before bursting into a fit of giggles as Jake eagerly pulled her back inside.

Damon glanced down. His grip on his glass tightened. Jake's hand was entwined with hers.

Ric glanced between the disappearing couple and Damon.

"Careful buddy, you might break that glass."

"I hate high school jocks." Was all Damon responded with as he drained his drink and immediately reached for the bottle.

"What's his deal anyway?"

"Who? Jake Masters?" Alaric queried. He let out a scoff when Damon inclined his head.

"Uh I don't know, he's the captain of the waterpolo team. Not the greatest at history, thinks he's gods gift to women, the usual." Alaric shrugged.

Damon hummed in response. He swirled his drink in his hand absentmindedly as his eyes fixed on the doorway that *yn* and Jake had disappeared through.

"What time is Andie getting here again?" Ric asked him.

"Damon." Ric repeated after a few moments.

"What?"

Ric tried to hide his amused smirk as he studied his friend. "I said what time is Andie getting here again?"

"Oh uh-" Damon's eyes shifted back to the doorway. "11 or something." He spoke dismissively.

Almost as if they had a mind of his own, his legs pulled him up onto his feet. Unable to fight the pull to head inside anymore, he slammed his glass down. "I'm just going to go grab another drink."

Ric raised a brow and glanced at the nearly full bottle of bourbon placed between them. He smirked in amusement.

"You do that buddy."

"Oops sorry!"

Damon glared as another drunk teenager fumbled into him. He pressed the bottle to his lips and tilted his head back. His brow furrowed when the taste of bourbon didn't reach his tastebuds.

He glanced down and cursed under his breath when he saw it was empty. He tossed it to the ground before promptly plucking another bottle out of the hands of a girl passing him who looked like she was about to puke.

"No no, trust me you don't want this." He stared into her eyes, "you want to go outside and puke your guts out on the grass, not on my expensive leather couch."

He rolled his eyes as she nodded numbly and walked past him. He pressed his body against the wooden support beam, his eyes drifting over the unfamiliar faces.

"If you're looking for *yn*, I last saw her in the stoner den."

He glanced to his left to see Elena standing beside him.

"I wasn't. But thanks for the update." He answered as he pressed the new bottle to his lips.

Elena didn't need to know that he'd spent the last twenty minutes trying to find her and had now given up and decided to sulk in the corner.

"Whatever you say."

His eyes narrowed as he glared down at her. She met his gaze with an innocent smile. He resisted the urge to ask her what she meant by that, because a part of him knew exactly what she was hinting at - which had been exactly what Ric had been hinting at - and that was a conversation he wasn't exactly ready to face.

"Have fun sulking." She patted his shoulder and disappeared into the crowd. He watched her go as he took another gulp. What had started out as a fun night was quickly becoming a chore.

He stiffened when his ears detected a laugh that he knew like the back of his hand. Sure enough, it wasn't long until his eyes fell on *yn*.

He clenched his jaw when he saw that she was following after Jake Masters. He was still holding her hand, and was now leading her towards the centre of the room where a dance floor had formed.

Jake turned to *yn* and leant down, whispering in her ear as he encircled his arms around her waist. She laughed and wrapped her arms around his neck as the two began to move to the heavy bass.

As Jake moved, a vein in his neck pulsed out. Damon felt the veins stir under his eyes. All he needed was to sink his teeth into that vein and he could rip his head clean-

"Hasn't anyone ever taught you it's rude to stare?"

Damon ripped his eyes away from the couple, turning his steely gaze to Caroline.

"What do you want blondie." He muttered as he turned his attention back to the dance floor.

"Nothing. Just here to remind you that you are in front of hundreds of people so now is not really the time to get your dracula on."

He rolled his eyes, "I'm fine."

"Really? Because to me it looks like you're about to go rip Jake Masters head off."

Damon's gums ached at he mention of his name.

"Don't you have other things to be worried about blondie?" He sneered.

"Not really."

"Not even your little wolf boy getting it on with a leggier version of you over there?"

Caroline followed his gaze to see Tyler and none other than slutty Sophie of all people grinding on each other in the middle of the room. Caroline ground her teeth and crossed her arms in front of her chest.

"Doesn't bother me." Her voice raised an octave.

"You sure about that? I think that bottle is suffocating." Caroline glanced down and huffed as she loosened the grip on the wine bottle.

"This isn't about me." Caroline hissed as she turned to face him.

"This is about you admitting that seeing Jake and *yn* together is driving you crazy."

"Why would it?"

"Uh gee Damon, I don't know let me think, maybe because you have feelings for her?"

Her words were like a slap in the face. It was the first time anyone had said it out loud. Had dared to voice what they had all been thinking. All of a sudden it felt very real. Very much a possibility that Damon did indeed have feelings for his friend. He felt like the room was closing in on him.

Damon shook his head and forced a chuckle out past his lips, "sorry blondie, but you don't know what you're talking about."

"Really?" She raised her brow, "so that doesn't bother you in the slightest?"

He turned his head and his eyes found *yn*'s figure instantly. His jaw clenched and he pursed his lips.

She had turned around to press her back against Jake's. His hands were roaming her side, brushing the red fabric higher up her thighs. He was placing kisses along her neck and muttering into her ear which was making her giggle.

That single wasp inside him had now spawned into a hive, stinging him from the inside out. Right then and there, he could have ripped the heads off every single person in this room. Tear them limb from limb. Anything to get rid of this sick feeling in his stomach.

A feeling he hadn't felt in a long time, perhaps ever.

A feeling you most definitely did not have towards a friend.

"Oh is that Jake Masters with *yn*?" Elena had reappeared beside him.

"Good for her, he's so hot-"

Damon didn't hear anything else after that, because in that moment Jake had leant in and whispered into her ear once more.

"What do you say we go find somewhere quieter to talk?"

His pulse was ringing in his ears, Jake's smarmy voice slithering around in his head. His legs had moved before he had even decided to. Making a beeline for *yn*.

He had no idea what his plan was. All he knew was that if he didn't get her away from his guy, he was going to murder someone. Jealousy had never agreed with him. It made him even uglier than usual.

"I need to talk to you."

*yn* twisted around in Jake's arms, her eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Damon standing in front of her.

"I'm a little busy."

Damon glared at Jake behind her before his eyes flickered down to her.

"It's important."

"I'm sure it can wait." She shot back.

Jake glanced between them, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand what was going on.

"Jake-" Damon began as he locked eyes with the teenager. "Why don't you go do us proud and win another beer pong championship." He cocked his head and grinned, "and don't come back."

Jake's eyes clouded over momentarily, before he blinked and his eyes focused on *yn*.

"Will do!" Jake grinned.

"Damon!" *yn* protested. It was futile as Jake's hands slipped from around her waist. They watched as he marched towards the kitchen with a determined pace.

"What the hell." She growled as she glared up at him. "I was having fun."

"Of course you were, who wouldn't be with the reigning beer pong champion of Mystic Falls." Damon drawled as he gripped her elbow and dragged her through the crowd.

"I wasn't planning on marrying the guy." She snapped back as he led her up the stairs. "He's hot, it's a party. You do the math."

He gritted his teeth at her answer as he guided her into his bedroom.

"You're drunk."

She huffed as she stormed into the centre of the room.

He shut the door. The noise from the party underneath them was immediately dampened. Now only a dull roar, background noise that occasionally seeped in through the floorboards.

"I don't want you making a decision you'll regret tomorrow."

She inhaled sharply before swivelling around to face him. Her fists clenched at her sides.

"That's not your decision to make."

"You're right. It's not." He nodded as he stalked towards her, "but I'm the one who's going to have to pick up the pieces if you get hurt."

She let out a bark of laughter. "Get hurt? I was dancing with him not running off to get eloped."

"Well we all know where it was heading."

Her eyes narrowed at his response.

"Last time I checked you're my friend, not my parent."

Friend. There it was again. That one little noun that was causing so much heartache. So much turmoil inside him.

*yn* knew she should leave it at that. But anger and liquor never mixed well inside her. And she was hurt and confused. All she had wanted to do was distract herself from him and her feelings, yet now it seemed like she couldn't escape him.

Now she felt like she was going crazy because if she didn't know any better, she could have sworn he was jealous.

"Don't you have anything better to do? Isn't your girlfriend supposed to be here?"

Damon didn't miss the way her lips almost curled into a sneer as they formed the word.

"She's working late."

His answer made her stomach drop. Of course they were still together. How stupid could she be to even let herself think for one moment that they might have broken up, that he might-

"Right." She nodded. "Well, I appreciate the whole friend intervention thing or whatever this is." She gestured to him as she took a few steps forward. "But I'm going back to the party."

She had made it all the way past him when she felt his hand curl around her forearm, rooting her in place.

"You seem to be really enjoying using the word 'friend' tonight."

Silence fell over the pair. Her eyes fluttered shut as she inhaled shakily. She opened her eyes once more and stared at the closed door. She could feel Damon's eyes burning holes in the back of her head.

His hand was yet to leave her bare arm.

"Well that's what you are."

She remembered Caroline's words as she tried to control her nerves. She exhaled as she tried to calm her beating heart as she turned to face him.

"Right?"

She kept her gaze defiant and determined as they locked eyes. He searched her eyes, seemingly looking for something in particular.

"I don't know." He began as he took a step toward her.

His ring band was burning into her skin. Her heart hammered.

"Do friends get the urge to rip the heads off arrogant jocks who touch their other friends?"

*yn* swallowed as she held his gaze. Her mind was going at a million miles an hour. She could barely process what was happening.

"Do friends feel physically ill when they hear the word friend being used to describe their relationship?"

Another step forward. His piercing green eyes flickered down to her lips and then back to her eyes.

"Damon-"

She cut herself off as Damon's hand cradled the side of her face. His teeth captured his bottom lip as his eyes once again fell to her mouth. The pad of his thumb glided over her bottom lip.

"I don't think I want to be your friend anymore *yn*." He murmured, his voice causing goosebumps to rise on the back of her neck.

"In fact, I don't think I've hated the word as much as I do right now." He whispered as he pressed his forehead against hers.

The alcohol running through her veins was clouding her reasoning, not even giving her a chance to think about Andie or Jake, or what the implications of this in the morning would be.

But in that moment, she didn't care. All she could think about was the smell of his cologne invading her senses and the feeling of his fingers running along her hot skin. About how desperate she was to have his mouth on hers.

All it took was the slightest tilt of *yn*'s chin to connect their lips. Her eyes fluttered shut as he finally let go of her arm to bring his other hand up to her cheek, cupping her face in his hands.

Their lips moved in sync as she pressed herself against him, nearly letting out a moan at the feeling. Her hands threaded themselves through his hair as he moved one hand to ensnare her waist. His hand travelled down just as she-

"They're kissing!" The muffled voice on the other side of the door made them pull apart in surprise. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Caroline?" *yn* asked as Damon ran a hand over her lower back. Damon nodded.

"And Elena."

*yn* let out a breathy laugh as she turned back to look up at him.

"Moment ruined?" He asked, a rare smile spreading across his lips as he studied her.

"Kinda." She grinned back as she leant up to capture his lips in another kiss.

They pulled apart after a few moments, pressing their foreheads together as they caught their breaths.

"I have to say *yln*." Damon murmured, a smirk twisting up onto his lips.

"I love not being your friend."

I love this fic, it's been so long since I've just done a stand alone fic!!! As always, feedback is always appreciated. Please give it back here x

#damon salvatore #the vampire diaries #damon salvatore imagine #damon salvatore fanfiction #damon salvatore oneshot #damon salvatore smut #damon salvatore x reader #damon salvatore imagines #damon salvatore x oc #damon imagine #damon x reader #damon oneshot #damon imagines #the vampire diaries damon #the vampire diaries imagine #the vampire diaries oneshot #the vampire diaries fanfiction #tvd #tvd imagine #tvd imagines #tvd oneshot #tvd fanfiction

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 3.

Summary: Your second year at Oxford brings with it Farleigh, much to your delight, and you get to learn about Farleigh's personal nemesis (which he rolls his eyes at every time you call him that) Oliver. It turns out Oliver's actually very lovely, and does Felix quite the favour one unassuming morning. Farleigh's not happy to see him again, but Felix is.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: heavy drinking by everyone at the pub including the reader, and 'dog' being used to demean the reader once.

A/N: 5101 words. much longer than the last ones, and we finally have oliver!! very excited to FINALLY be able to write their weird little fuckin dynamic at oxford, i love them all very much. im a bit unhappy with the pacing of the beginning but i like how it picks up once oli is introduced, but also the bar scene is SO LONG and i will not apologise i love them your honour. id be mighty grateful for any feedback or if you have any thoughts in general about the story, i stare at so many kind asks in my inbox lovingly, i will answer them very soon i promise!! also this is so unedited, sorry lol.

Taglist: @strangemaximoff @renaissance-mama @tsach @malscorner @xhoneymoonx134 @yelchinweasleylothbrok @tarriea @florencediet @butitsbetterifyoudoittoem @belladonnadarksshade @fandom-multiamory @snazzynacho @jubileexoxo @soocore @be-lla-vie @nightingale2124 @willow-sages @null4ndv0id @gracieluvthemoon @day2dream @marvellover98 @navixfr @bitxhinthecomments @daintylovers @alesunsets @noturningbacknow @d0llysposts @alilcloudy @callsignwidow @moviequotes23 @325575 @bonnieblue0606 @osoqueen125 @hot-dino-nuggies @darkness-falls-xo @mattymurderdocks @flowerecs @weepingwitchofthewest @ilovemydinoboi @marsmallow433 @king0flies @cashtons-wife

----

At first you don't notice him for who he is. At first you hear about Farleigh's insufferable tutoring partner. At first, Oliver Quick means absolutely nothing to you.

The most important part of your second year of college is that Farleigh has finally conceded to joining you and Felix at Oxford. Once, during the last Summer break, while Felix had been off confronting his at-the-time good friend Eddie, after Farleigh had told him Eddie and Venetia had been sleeping together, you and Farleigh had gotten high in the maze to avoid the fallout.

Since the Cattons were paying for his education, he'd admitted that he wanted to remove himself as much as possible from his mother's legacy and memory and the guilt Sir James held about his sister. It would be hard to do at a college where he would be a legacy student because of his mother's attendance. You think you partly understood; certain people, usually staff, liked to kiss your ass when they found out about your own legacy status and the people your parents became, you're not so sure they'd treat Farleigh the same, all things considered.

But he's out of options.

Sometimes you're not sure what to make of Farleigh; his strange place in the Catton family was never something they seemed to like to discuss around you, but Farleigh was far more candid about it. So when he pulls these stunts, gets himself kicked out of schools, puts himself in precarious positions despite how you knew he genuinely enjoyed academics, especially literature, you can't help but wonder why.

"Don't try and pathologize it," you could hear him rolling his eyes as he attempted to scale the minotaur statue in the middle of the maze. Looking up at him from where you're laying in the grass, you watch him rise above the walls into the sunshine. Maybe it's dangerous, maybe he should stop, get down, be safe, but he looks far more content up there, on the edge. Maybe he feels freer up there, even if he knows it's not true.

So now he's with you and Felix at Oxford, a first year only academically, he slots perfectly into the group of friends you'd both already managed to collect.

The point is, you have no idea that of everything that happens in those first few weeks of your second year, the parties, the hook ups, the social dances you found yourself doing, that the guy Farleigh likes to complain about from his tutoring sessions - Oliver, Farleigh always says it with an eye roll - would mean so much more to you than you'd ever expect.

Everything about the man you would come to find extraordinary, from the outside, was completely, and charmingly, ordinary. Including how you'd met him.

Felix had overslept again, and threw a pillow at the door when you'd stuck your head into his room to remind him that he had classes. You'd left yourself enough time to walk, but Felix would have to at least run if he didn't get his ass up soon, or would ride his bike instead. Its on your way, so you duck your head in to at least check it there.

What you don't expect is the unassuming man with dark hair to have a gentle, almost caressing hand on the tire of Felix's bike. When you make a confused noise, he about jumps a foot in the air.

"Sorry," he seems to shrink in from himself, recoiling from the bike like he'd been caught red handed, "just admiring." He babbles, but can't meet your eyes. For a moment, you look over him, before turning your attention to the ludicrously expensive mountain bike that Felix has always taken for granted.

"It is a nice bike," you find yourself grinning, stepping towards the bike and giving the tire a squeeze, both as a show of your own appreciation, and to test the pressure, just in case, "didn't mean to spook you..." And you trail off, prompting for his name, holding your hand out.

It hangs in the air for a moment, and the man before you gives you a proper look over. The way he holds himself, as if trying to take up as little space as physically possible, but his eyes, his gaze, oh it longed to swallow whole every detail of everything he cast it upon.

"Oliver," he says after a very long moment. Despite his demure voice, there's something deliberate, unwavering about it, "Quick," he follows it up with, "I'm Oliver Quick." And he ducks his gaze, sparing you from his intensity as you shake his hand.

"Oliver Quick," you turn the name over on your tongue; the same Oliver that Farleigh's been complaining about, you ponder, before giving him a smile, "I'm Y/N." As soon as the handshake drops, Oliver's doing that thing again, shrinking back and looking uncomfortable in the space.

"Yeah, I think I've seen you around," Oliver nods but can't meet your gaze, "around campus, I mean -" Which reminds you -

"Fuck, I'm almost running late," you hissed, spinning on your heel, "sorry to run Ollie, you seem lovely!" You call over your shoulder as you bolt to class, hearing him calling out;

"No trouble," and awkwardly trailing off the further away you get, "you seem... very nice too..."

Bursting through the door to your tutorial with five minutes to spare, your lecture looks up from his desk for a brief moment. Giving him a nod, you try and slip past him to grab a seat by one of your friends, chatting near the back, when he raises his voice.

"No Mister Catton today either, I presume," he says with a sigh, and you again check you watch before plastering on an apologetic smile.

"He'll be here," you assured, "promise." The professor did not seem impressed.

Sitting next to India, she immediately greets you with a hug.

"Felix hung over?" She grins, and you anyway in respond with a smirk.

"After last night? I'd assume so."

"King's Arms tonight?"

"Of course."

When he does eventually show up, it's ten minutes late with an apology about how his bike had gotten a flat tire. The professor, just tells him to take a seat, and Felix does with many placating thanks, sliding into one of the open few open seats in the row in front of yours. Ruffling his hair, he throws a faintly guilty grin over his shoulder at you and India, telling you both not to start.

After the tutorial, you fully intend of having lunch with India, as the two of you don't have any other classes until the afternoon, the two of you walk with Felix to where he'd stashed his bike before his next lecture. Except -

"That's not yours," you look at the bicycle curiously, "I thought you had a flat."

"Had," Felix agrees, wheeling the unfamiliar bike from the rack with a grin, "bloody angel of a man lent me his."

"Of course someone just gave you their bike," India chuckles, reaching out to give Felix's shoulder a squeeze before he mounts the bike with intent to take off.

"Lent," Felix grinned back, "I'm gonna give it back."

"And what about yours?" You asked, eyebrows raised.

"He took it back for me."

"Your hero," you laughed, shaking your head at him.

"My absolute hero," Felix agreed, "I'll tell you about it later, okay? King's Arms tonight?"

And once he's away, and you and India are on your way to the campus cafe, her arm tucked in hers, she gives you a knowing, almost exasperated smile.

"You're already trying to figure out how to fix his tire, aren't you?" Her nails dig a little too much and her smile's a little too sly and her tone almost grates against a thought you don't like to consider, so you push it to the back of your mind and give an embarrassed little smile.

"Was it that obvious?"

"No, but you are," she leans in, lips almost against your ear, smile in her voice, "endearingly predictable," she murmurs against the shell of your ear, "you're always wrapped up in him."

"Right now I seem to be rather wrapped up in you," you rest your free hand on hers, tucked into the crook of her elbow, taking her hint and lowering your voice to something flirty.

"And make darling Felix wait?" She teased in response. Instead of answering her properly, you ask her back to your dorm under the guise of lunch and she happily accepts.

The bike shop is closed and Felix has class and you can't even be sure if this supposed bike saviour has even returned Felix's bike by now; there's no waiting, but India likes feeling prioritised, so you keep all that to your self. India likes to feel important in Felix's life. Anyone who Felix spends even a little of his time and attention on ends up rather addicted to that feeling, to feeling special to Felix Catton, and India is one of the many who have picked up on your own importance to the man himself.

So you're not dating India. You're also not not dating India; you're a placeholder of sorts, which would be cruel to you if you didn't like her well enough or if you weren't satisfied taking your fun with her. It would also probably be cruel to India if she knew the truth, that Felix thought she was hot and wasn't ready to commit to maybe dating her, but that he was getting that way he sometimes got about people, that he wanted them around, wanting to not share them, but without devoting himself to them. That's where you come in. A placeholder. A proxy. An almost. Someone who makes this pretty girl feel important and close to Felix. Someone Felix isn't worried about falling in love with India even while keeping her happy and around.

When you arrive late to the King's Arms with your own around India's shoulders, Felix lights up while Farleigh, from beside him, narrows his eyes with a smirk.

"Cute shade of lipstick," he says slyly, even as he moves over at Felix's insistence to fit both yourself and India in the booth beside him. Farleigh flicks the collar of the shirt you'd thrown on in a rush to get dressed for afternoon classes, "on both of you."

"Are you jealous, Farleigh?" India grins, taking it all in stride as you pull your collar out with your thumb to try and inspect it. India's lipstick was smeared faintly against the collar from where she'd been enthusiastically kissing her way down your jaw a few hours earlier.

"Of course," Farleigh's sly smile widens to a cocky grin, and he winks at her, while she leans over you to plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth with a wicked grin.

"Right in front of her partner?" Annabel, Felix's latest fling was on his other side, reaching over Felix to shove Farleigh's shoulder with a scandalised laugh.

"Not really together," India mused, even as she shifted to lean heavily against you, her arm around you and tucking herself up by your side. You nodded in kind, shrugging as Felix had to hide his laughter in his pint.

"And besides," Farleigh declares in a voice you knew all too well, "if anyone knows how to share it's Y/N," with a cheshire-cat smile and making a show of putting his hand far up your thigh under the table. Surprised by the outright boldness of it all, Felix, who had been trying to take a sip to cover his amusement, ends up snorting beer out of his nose as he laughs, which sets the whole table off.

It's later in the night, several rounds of drinks and plates of chips, when you finally remember to ask Felix about his bike. There's this look in his eyes as he recounts the details, how he'd somehow gotten on the wrong side of something small and sharp when he'd been found by his 'absolute hero'.

"Ollie," he says brightly, "Ollie - Oliver - something, I don't -" he's babbling, and though he doesn't at the time, both yourself and Farleigh react, though in vastly different ways.

"Oliver?" Farleigh draws out the name with disdain, like it's done him some sort of personal affront, or set off a bad smell, judging by his expression.

"Don't make that face," Felix rolls his eyes, giving Farleigh a good-natured shove, but it's all becoming background noise to you as you glance over your shoulder. In your mind, all you can focus on the brief but captivating moments you shared with a blue-eyed Oliver just this morning. As if by fate, when you finally come back to reality, and realise you're staring at the bar, you see those same blue eyes staring back at you, intense and surprised.

"There he is!" Behind you, Felix's voice raises above the din of the pub with barely restrained glee, "Ollie! Oliver! Oliver!" And immediately those blue eyes snap to your attention-grabbing best friend, "come over here, mate!" Felix insists, and you drop your gaze with a faint smile.

As Felix loudly and insistently vies for Oliver's attention and company, you briefly raise your gaze, only to see the disdain on Farleigh's face having grown immensely.

Oliver. Farleigh's classmate Oliver. Insufferable tutoring Oliver. Know-it-all Oliver. 'Thus' Oliver. No regard for style in his academics or his wardrobe Oliver.

Felix's hero, Oliver.

Considering how much joy Farleigh took from ribbing you at every given opportunity, just to see your squirm for his amusement, you supposed you could take some joy from his discomfort in this moment. When he sees your smug smile he scowls at you.

"This guy's my fucking hero," you've heard that warmth in Felix's voice a hundred times over, "just telling everyone how you saved my ass today," you wonder how long it will take Oliver to fall for him too.

Oliver, for his part, plays at being abashed as the rest of the group gives him faint compliments, gaze surprisingly shallow as he takes you all in. Keeping your own eyes down for the moment, you take the cigarette from India that you'd been sharing with her. You quickly reach into Felix's jean pocket beside you for the lighter you know is there, and when you look up to light it, cigarette poised between your lips, you see Oliver's gaze momentarily focused on the lack of space between yourself and Felix, where your hand had disappeared. Felix, you know without even having to look at him, hasn't even looked away from Oliver once.

"Take a seat, I owe you a drink," Felix grins, and is already shoving the few people on his left, before you put a hand on his arm to get him to settle down.

"Could you get the next round, India?" You ask her quietly, and though she hesitates for a moment, she relents, considering it was meant to be her shout after all.

Oliver is hesitating as India stands and smooths out her skirt, heading for the bar, and finally Felix remembers that most people's worlds don't revolve around him.

"Oh, sorry, are you with friends?"

Another moment of deliberation from Oliver, before he finally relents to Felix, and agrees to join them. Looking around, there's a chair next to a table behind Farleigh that was going unused, or -

When you pat the now empty seat at the end of the booth beside yourself, you're not looking at Oliver. Chin in your hand and cigarette poised between your fingers, you're giving Farleigh a grin that's all teeth, while he looks like he's trying to stave off a sudden tension headache.

"Come here, Oliver Quick," you refuse to explain your smug smile, "I don't bite."

"Yes they do," Farleigh huffs in irate response, to which most of the rest of the group cracks up. The leather beside you shifts, and you can feel the heat Oliver radiates before you even look at him.

"Quick, Oliver Quick!" Felix, behind you, is muttering almost to himself, before adding, "wait, how did you know that?" And throwing himself practically over your shoulder as you'd turned to face Oliver properly.

"We met this morning," you say quietly, gaze fixed on Oliver's, on the way he's taking you both in. With Felix's chin on your shoulder, the two of you cheek to cheek and watching him with interest, it could be enough to send anyone else running. But his gaze isn't the shallow one he'd ghosted across the others, he's drinking this moment, and the both of you, in. Smile stretching wide across your face and you tip your head against Felix's, "just as lovely as I thought," and turning your face even slightly towards Felix means your lips against his temple, not that either of you seem to mind, "your hero."

"My fuckin' hero," Felix agrees adamantly, though you and he sit back as India approaches with a tray of pints and an exasperated look.

"And you've given up my seat," she sighs, placing the drinks on the table for everyone else to take their share. Farleigh's already passive-aggressively reached behind himself to grab the extra empty chair, and you promise to make it up to her with a heavy layer of implications that the rest of the table snickers at.

Introductions are made and drinks are had and the night carries on apace until you, at the very least, felt like you could call yourself reasonably wasted. Despite how quiet Oliver is in the general conversation, Felix makes a point of always including him, arm around your shoulders so he can lean across you to talk to him, while Oliver just tried to keep up.

Everything about Oliver shouted that these people weren't his people; his clothes, his accent, his vernacular, his very unfamiliarity with who so many of them were considering their families were often titans of industry. Still, you respected the effort he was making to keep up. Whenever even the hint of a joke at Oliver's expense could be felt in the air, Felix shut it down, and though it started out subtle, it became less so as the night wore on; the grateful look on Oliver's face, even as he tried to duck to hide it, said how much he appreciated the gesture.

It's decided almost unanimously by the time you have to buy a round that it should be the first round of shots for the table. Several more would be to come, but you were getting tequila, and all the fanfare that came with it.

Getting back to the table you find Oliver's slid into your spot by Felix. Though he tries to apologise and get up, you shush him, insisting it's fine as you sit down next to him with the tray of shots topped with lime wedges, and the shot glass half full of salt for the table the bartender had kindly provided.

"You do know this is why I was late to my tutorial this morning," Felix still helped himself to a shot glass with lime as the salt was being passed around the table.

"Salt?" Oliver frowned at the glass in front of him, "lime?"

"You've never done tequila shots before?" Farleigh scoffed, holding India's hand up in front of himself where she'd offered it to him to apply salt.

"No, I haven't," is all Oliver can say awkwardly, watching as Farleigh sprinkled a line of salt across the back of India's aloft hand, licking it up in one swift motion before he took the shot and bit the lime in quick succession.

"Salt, shot, lime," you give Oliver a nudge to bring his attention back to you.

"Salt, shot, lime," Oliver repeats, looking from his glass to the glass full of salt that Felix had reached over and brought to your side of the table, "do I have to lick the salt off of someone else?"

"Not necessarily," Felix says from his other side, while Annabel giggled and allowed him to apply salt to her hand.

"More fun that way," she adds coyly.

"Not unless you want to," your own shot glass sits untouched, salt now sitting between both your glasses.

"Do you- should I-" Oliver's stumbling over his words, fidgeting with the end of the lime.

"Lick it off their neck," Farleigh barked from across the table, and though you tried to tell Oliver that he didn't have to do anything like that, and Felix's disappointed admonishment of his cousin, the entire rest of the table, who had finished their own shots and were now invested in the drama, light up with agreement.

"You're so crass, you're gonna give him the wrong idea," Felix groaned, rolling his eyes with frustration.

"I love Y/N but I don't think there is a wrong idea about them -"

"Watch what the fuck you say about them, Farleigh -"

"Watch what I say about your fucking dog-?"

"I'll lick their neck!" Oliver announces at the top of his lungs, interrupting the vicious barb, and the way Felix had practically leapt across half the table in a sudden fury. For a long moment, tense silence hangs in the air, Farleigh half out of his chair, wearing a sneer, and Felix braced over the table with white-knuckled fists pressed into the woodgrain. Then, as Felix sits back down and things begin to ease, once again all eyes return to Oliver, who's shifting in his seat, looking at you with almost apology in his eyes, "if- if you're okay with that."

After a beat, you break into a self deprecating smile.

"I do like getting my neck licked," you laughed, and immediately angled your head and pulled the collar of your shirt to the side so he could have a better angle and more of your shoulder to apply salt. The tension dropped almost entirely as everyone but Farleigh and Felix burst out in cheers. Chatter arose again as Oliver fumbled with the salt, but you caught Felix's eyes from behind him. Tension in his brow that you longed to smooth away, and discomfort in his gaze, but when you smiled you could see him take a breath, and smile back.

"I won't bite," it comes as a surprise when you hear Oliver say this, so quiet only you can hear as he diligently applies a sprinkle of salt to the soft skin of where your throat meets your shoulder, "promise," you can't see his expression but you think you can hear him smirking. It actually sounds almost like flirting.

India's been glaring at you across the table whenever she hasn't been flirting overtly with Farleigh for the past half an hour. So you flirt back.

"Not even if I ask nicely?" You murmur back, trying to repress the thrill that the whole moment was giving you. You hear the faintest, momentary rumble of a laugh from Oliver before you feel his hand on your thigh as if to steady himself, and his tongue on your neck. It's barely a second of contact, the delicate caress of his mouth as he licked the line of salt clear from your skin. Quickly, he then takes the shot, and swallows before biting down on the lime, making a pained face as the table cheered.

His hand is still on your thigh; his grip is tight.

As he's spluttering and grinning and Felix is clapping him on the back for the effort, he's rather abashedly offering himself to you, if you'd like to repeat the same salt process on him -

"You've done enough for your first shot, Ollie," you told him with a fond nudge, happily applying salt to the back of your own hand, completing the ritual with far less fanfare. Still, when you glance past Oliver to Felix, you see the way he's regarding the newcomer, with a kind of awe and warmth. This too you know well.

Crammed so close in the booth, Felix's arm stays around Oliver's shoulders for most of the rest of the night, and while no-one can see it, Oliver's hand remains on your thigh. Sometimes he taps along to the music of the pub that you've already tuned out, sometimes he's rubbing small circles with his thumb, or give you a squeeze when he's laughing at a joke, but it never waivers.

The more drunk you become, the more you find yourself leaning into him, and you begin to tune out the conversation, focusing only on your drink, the warmth of Oliver and his hand on you, and on the sensation of Felix's hand playing with your hair since his arm was around Oliver's shoulders, and you're leaning your head against him.

Everything's become blurry, your brain is still trying to catch up after you take another shot from muscle memory alone when Farleigh starts insisting on Oliver shout the next round, and for that round to be jaeger bombs.

"We just did shots," you shake your head with a faint frown, but the movement makes you feel all kind of queasy.

"You tapping out?" Farleigh, in much better spirits considering how many he'd consumed, is all wide, challenging smiles full of teeth.

"Nope," you again shake your head, against your better judgement, "never ever ever." Everything is spinning, even with your eyes closed.

"Then you shouldn't be letting Ollie snake his way out of paying for his round," Farleigh sounds all kinds of smug, and despite how you're all kind of done with him for tonight, and Oliver is trying to insist that he's not trying to wiggle out of paying for a round, the rest of the table have apparently taken up Farleigh's crusade. They're booing him, hissing at him, while Farleigh's smugness screams social triumph; you can feel Oliver's fingers twitching on your thigh, like he wants to be fidgeting but can't bring himself to let you go.

"Fine," Oliver relents to the peer pressure, letting you go and throwing his hands in the air, "can you move a sec?" He asks, and you shuffle out to let him past, before scooting back in and back beside a once more frustrated Felix.

Farleigh argues that it's the rules of the pub when Felix asks him to give Oliver a break, but you don't really hear them. You've cleared enough space on the table in front of you to be able to cross your arms on the table, laying your head on your arms to try and see if it would help. Felix is rubbing soothing circles on your back as he argues with Farleigh, probably out of pure habit, so you try and focus on that sensation, and picking a point that you see that you can focus on.

Everything's sideways, the bar, the people, the street outside, but it doesn't matter. In the moments you find yourself focusing on Oliver in the cool light of the bar, everything else falls away. He looks antsy and uncomfortable, watching the bartender pour the shots, wallet in his hand. You'd have paid in a heartbeat if Farleigh hadn't been so insistent on attacking Oliver's pride. Everything else about him was so charmingly ordinary, perhaps that's why Farleigh was infuriated by him, and why he'd attacked Oliver's pride, one of the few things that Farleigh probably believed Oliver had of value to himself.

Tomorrow, you and Farleigh were having words.

Tonight, you wanted to somehow help Oliver without making any kind of big deal about it. Problem was, you weren't sure how. You weren't even sure if you were capable of walking in straight line right now.

"Fi -" when you turn your head to your other side, you see Felix, half finished a cigarette, with a pensive look on his face as he too was watching Oliver. When he looks at you there's a moment that the two of you share, of understanding, of compassion and a shared goal, "can you get me a glass of water?" You asked, knowing he'd take the hint. Thankfully, he smiles at you, the two of you shuffling once more so he could get out of the booth and head towards Oliver and the bar.

Leaning on the end of the booth, you wait for Felix to return before you sit back down, instead focusing on the interaction between the two men at the bar. It's not that you can hear them, but you can see the grateful but anxious look in Oliver's eyes, and the way he can't look away from Felix's smile, and something sharp and bright and intrigued lights up in your chest.

There's a moment as the interaction begins winding down, when Felix takes the tray of drinks, and looks back at your gathered group of friends. His eyes meet yours, faint flicker of familiar affection passing in the next moment as he says something else to Oliver before he's making a beeline back to the group.

"Thank you, Ollie!" He announces brightly, much to the cheer and delight of the rest of the group once the jaeger bombs are set down at the table. Caught up in the sudden influx of joy, you chant Ollie's name, clapping along, not even realising that since you'd let go of the booth you were starting to take on a lean.

"You're fucking legless," Felix crows with laughter, who had already slid back into the booth and was now taking you by the arm and sitting you back down beside himself, "I'm cutting you off, you're on the waters now," he joked, arm around you to steady you, though you weren't inclined to disagree. Thankfully, in the next moment, a water was being placed in front of you, and a cheer was once again rising from the group as Oliver rejoined you all, bashful smile on his face as everyone was lavishing praise on him for following through with buying the round.

The glass was cold and clear and faintly frosted, few ice cubes floating delicately on top of the pint of water before you, looking absolutely perfect in this golden, humid pub. Even just reaching out and holding the cold glass of water in your hands seemed to make everything a little less blurry at the edges.

As you dragged the glass towards you, surprised by your sudden craving for fresh, cold water, praise tumbles from your lips, words half blurring together, and Oliver takes his seat once more beside you.

"Ollie, you're my fucking hero."

#felix catton x reader x oliver quick #saltburn x reader #felix catton x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton imagine #felix catton x y/n #felix catton x you #oliver quick x reader #oliver quick imagine #oliver quick x you #oliver quick x y/n #head heart hand fic #manic writer

[gyuvision]

strawberry soju -> [back to masterlist?]

pairing : exes to ?? hong seunghan x fem reader

contains -> : drinking, mention of alcohol/being drunk

wc : 0.9k

preview ! - your drunken ex boyfriend calls you up out of nowhere, leaving him under your care for the night when he doesnt want you to go.

continue? ⬇️

you groaned at the sound of your phone buzzing once again. after all, it really does get annoying when its been 3 minutes and 7 missed calls.

“who could be calling so late? 10pm on a friday..”

setting down the ramen cup and pausing your favorite show, you swipe to accept the call, holding the phone up to your ear without checking the caller id. “hello? whos this?”

“y/nniee? that you?” the person slurred.

you knew that voice all too well, you didn’t even have to look at the contact name. “seunghan.” you sighed.

“you finally answered.” he exclaimed. you could practically hear his stupid smile.

“been drinking again?” you said, already knowing by his tone of voice.

“just.. a little tipsy..”

“are you-” you were cut off by someone elses voice.

“sorry y/n. he had a lot to drink.” eunseok joined in. “you mind getting seunghan? i know its.. awkward still. but my parents are supposed to go out soon, and i don’t want to leave my brother by himself.”

“hes sooo drunk that he seems to think you’re still together. he’s been asking for you all night!” sungchan snickered somewhere in the background.

“uh.. send me your location then? i guess its fine just this once. he wont even remember it in the morning.”

so you found yourself driving to a well known local restaurant to pick up your ex boyfriend. even though it was your choice, you couldnt help but wonder why you were doing this.

and you also couldn’t help but feel bad at the thought of seunghan being so drunk to the point he still thinks you’re dating.

“y/n, over here!” sungchan called out to you as you entered the building.

“wheres eunseok?”

“you just missed him. he had to go because he’s too worried about his brother.”

“my y/n! you’re here!” seunghan squealed going to pull you into a tight hug.

you awkwardly pat his head in return instead of hugging back. though you couldn’t say that you didn’t miss his touch.

sungchan helped you both to the car before he took off as well.

“god you smell like.. like, strawberry soju?” you exclaimed. “you really reek of alcohol. how much did you drink?”

seunghan replied by holding up 9 fingers, a lazy smile across his face and his eyes closed, with his cheeks a bright pink. “9 shots?” you scoffed as you set course for seunghans house.

“babyy.” seunghan whined. “im not your baby.” “you’ll always be my baby.” he teased back.

you sighed as you rubbed your forehead in frustration. “what do you want?”

“aircon please. i feel hot.” he mumbled as he tugged at the collar of his shirt.

you sank into your seat after turning on the air conditioning, putting up with how cold you were so he could feel better. after all, he was a bit of a liability right now though.

you walked up to seunghans apartment with him leaning into your shoulder while he had one arm around you for support.

“whats your code?” you asked, opening his keypad as you assumed he changed the password after your break up.

“same as always. your birthday. i would never change it.”

you’d be lying if you said your heart didn’t soften even in the slightest.

after changing seunghans shirt for him then getting him tucked into the sheets, you went to get up to get ready and go home before he pulled you back into the bed with him.

“please dont go.” he whispered as he wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into your neck with a small whine.

“but didn’t you think that we..” “nah. just wanted to believe that we were. feel more confident when i’m that drunk.”

“im sorry.”

“why did you leave me?”

though seunghan had said some crazy things that night, nothing would’ve prepared you for that.

“seunghan..”

“i dont care about it anymore then. just dont leave me again. even if its only for today.”

you turned around in his grasp to press a light kiss into his forehead. “promise.”

you decided, maybe it wouldnt be so bad to spend the night. you realize you wouldnt mind being happy with seunghan again even if it meant that he wouldnt remember any of it.

‘but might as well, cause i cant help myself.’ [1:36]

..

‘i dont ever wanna know how it feels to not have you, my strawberry soju.’ [1:51]

#gyuvision #gyuvision - riize #riize x reader #riize smut #seunghan x reader #seunghan smut #riize fluff #seunghan imagines #seunghan fluff #riize imagines

[darling-im-wonderstruck]

sweet dreams.

synopsis : it was yet another sleepless night for you— peter, of course, wasn't going to allow that.

pairing : bf!peter parker x reader

wc : 502

warnings : nothing worth warning <3 unless you’re against tooth rotting fluff !!!!! it’s all FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFF !! a comfort fic for my night owls out there who refuse to sleep (mutuals… go to bed)

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a/n : hi ! sooo this is a rewrite of an old one, i feel like this is an improvement so i’m pretty proud of that !!! <3 hope you guys enjoy this lil fic, it’ll bring you sm joy, i promise !!!! comments, asks, reblogs, are greatly all appreciated :)

brring! brring! brring!

a smile forms on your face as you look at your phone to see the caller id: ‘lovebug’ alongside a plethora of heart emojis. you always loved hearing from him, no matter the context, and of course you would never complain. only question was, why exactly was he calling you at 3 a.m. in the morning? 

“pete?” you answer, turning on your camera. your hair is an absolute mess, but you hardly care at this point. besides, it was peter you were talking to, he thought you were beautiful no matter how you looked.

“hi gorgeous.” just as expected. he’s predictable like that.

“my hair’s a mess, pete.” you chuckle, trying to fix it as much as you possibly could.

“i think it makes you look cute.” he’s grinning sweetly, only to see you roll your eyes in response.

“whaaaat? it’s true!”

“yeah, right.” you respond, the sarcasm clear in your voice.

“i’m serious.” his tone deepens, though it’s paired with an odd look— one that you assume was supposed to be an intimidating scowl, but it just made him look utterly adorable.

“you’re the cute one.” his grin only widens at your compliment.

“thanks, but i already know that.” he flips his (imaginary) hair, making you giggle. he can’t help but do the same once he hears you.

“anyways, why’d you call?” you ask.

“well, i swung past your window on the way home from patrol and i noticed that you weren’t asleep yet,” he pouts. oh. “i wanted to tell you to go to bed, you know you need it.”

“technically, i’m already in bed,” you quip, lying down to prove a point. he could only roll his eyes in response.

“i meant sleep, missy.” his voice was slightly stern, mimicking a mother’s voice.

“no, thank you.” you grin cheekily, though you talk in the same tone as he did, he sighs in disappointment.

“please!” he’s pleading now, using your known weakness, his ‘puppy eyes’. clearly, that wasn’t fair.

“i’m busy though!” no you weren’t, you were simply watching tv all night, or at least you were planning to.

“lovie, you’ve gotta get your beauty sleep.” he’s serious this time. you just looked at him and pouted, you did not want to sleep, despite the fact that your eyelids were beginning to feel heavier by the second.

“hm, okay, i’ll make you a deal.” that piqued your interest.

“okay, tell me.” you lean closer to your phone, peter notices that he’s got your full attention.

“maybe i could swing over for a sleepover?” he suggests, the smile on his face never leaving, “we could cuddle? i know you love those.” that was a well known fact between the two of you, it was also peter’s way to get you to fall asleep, a method that never fails.

“hm,” you mulled over the offer, but peter knew what you’d say, “okay, deal.” you say dryly in an attempt to mask your excitement.

“alright, beautiful, be there in ten.”

a/n : hope you loved it <3 thank you for reading !!! please leave feedback, comments, and reblogs 🥰

taglist : (okay so, i’m tagging my old taglist in hopes to see if you’re still interested ! i was previously @/darling-im-moonstruck so yeah !) @cagethemunson, @tfatwsparker, @jaydannyyy, @hallecarey1, @live-laugh-lovejoy, @parkerpeter24, @saturnpeter, @poemsforparker, @hllandvibbes, @herpeanutzombie

#— zuri writes … ֢ ׄ 🖋 ⃞ ִ ׄ ۪ #peter parker #peter parker x y/n #mcu!peter x reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker imagine #tom!peter parker x reader #tom!spiderman #peter parker x reader #peter x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #spiderman #spider-man #spiderman x reader #peter parker smut #peter parker blurb #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fic #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland smut #tom holland peter parker #peter parker angst #peter parker writing #college peter parker #mcu peter parker #tasm!spiderman x reader #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter x you

[zepskies]

Hello my lovely friend! I would love to see an imagine/head canon of Dean and the reader seeing each other for the first time after he either comes back from hell or purgatory if you’d be up for it 💕 up to you whether it’s an established relationship or mutual pining 😉 thank you! 😘

Hello, my dear!!

Thank you so much for this imagine! I needed a bit of Dean. 😘

Now I went with Purgatory for this one (S8, E01 – “We Need to Talk About Kevin”).

I diverged from canon of Sam not looking for Dean to make sure if he was dead. Not just because I think that choice by the SPN writers wasn’t true to Sam’s character (Even Jared has said this lol), but because I think if Dean had a girlfriend at this point in time, Sam wouldn’t just abandon her to deal with Dean’s loss alone. 

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Song Inspo: Yes, I had one for this! Weirdly enough, it was the entire “Moneyball” soundtrack. The whole smooth but intense pace of it really drove me on this.

Word Count: 2,200 Warnings: 18+ only for some smuttiness.

Imagine: Reuniting with Dean, not knowing if things will be the same.

You’re doing the dishes when your phone rings.

You check the caller ID, frowning when the number is unfamiliar. But you answer with a thread of wariness while you’re holding a glass.

“Hello?” you answer. For a moment, there’s silence on the line. Your brows knit together in suspicion.

For months, you’ve been living with Sam and Kevin in this dusty cabin in the woods. Literally, in the middle of buttfuck nowhere. It was the only way you and Sam could try to protect the prophet from Crowley.

So the fact that you're getting a call at all is surprising in and of itself.

Your frown deepens. “Whoever this is, you have three seconds before I hang the hell up.”

“Hey…it’s me.”

Your suspicion fades, but shock overtakes you. Your breath stills in your lungs when you hear Dean’s voice. However, your brain can’t compute.

It’s been a year.

“Sweetheart, are you there?” he says.

You finally choke on a gasp, and the glass slides out of your hand and shatters in the sink.

“Hey, you okay?” his gruff concern is so very Dean that it continues to choke you into tears.

“Dean,” you utter. Your mouth trembles as your eyes close, and your tears find their own way down your cheeks. “I…I’ve been…you’re okay?”

“Well, I’m here,” he answers, with some dry humor, but he sounds off. You don’t know what to make of that, but now you’re worried.

You look down at your shaking hand, and you realize that there’s a small piece of glass that ricocheted into your palm. You ignore it, because all you can focus on is your boyfriend’s voice in your ear.

“Where…are you?” you ask. Every trembling, heave of breath brings you closer to a sob.

“Louisiana. Clayton, Louisiana,” he replies. His voice is even, but there’s emotion there too. You hear it, only because you know him so well. “Where are you?”

And how soon can you get here? his tone implies.

After Dean disappeared in the aftershock of Dick Roman’s death, you, Sam, and Kevin had been scouring every lore book on God’s green Earth. Nothing has gotten you closer to finding Dean in the last year.

You hadn’t allowed yourself to fully give up, but in recent weeks, you would never admit that your heart has been starting to falter. So has your body.

Sam watches you closely on the way out of the house, heading to the Impala. You’re grateful for the way he’s been looking out for you, but you also resent it. You don’t need help. You’re fine…mostly.  

As strange as it’s been living in this house, it’s become your safety blanket. Your cold shell where you can block off the rest of the world, as if time hasn’t been ticking by all these months outside of it.

But now you’re practically shaking. Call it nerves, lack of sleep, too much caffeine, too much crap food, stress, and grief. You ignore it, taking a firm grip of the passenger door handle and yanking it open. Sam drives.

The hours are excruciating. Your leg bounces restlessly, and Sam notices, but doesn’t comment. He does try to soothe you with your favorite music in the car. He tries to pick up conversation, but you’re not having it.

You’re even being pretty selfish right now. Sam had been without his brother for a year, just as you had been without. And here he is, trying to comfort you.

You can’t help it though.

You’re not okay. You don’t think you’ll ever be okay again until you see him.

Sam eventually pulls into the dingy motel in the middle of rural Louisiana. (And yet, somehow on the corner of a Hustler, one of Dean’s favorite sex shops. Your lips curve slightly.)

Sam’s calling Dean on his cell, but you’re too impatient to wait for the man to come out.

You jerk the car door open, and in your haste, you don’t realize that you’ve slammed the door shut.

“Hey, easy on my Baby.”

You turn with a gasp lodged in your throat, but not even that can escape when Dean comes into view. Complete with red plaid and old jeans and rough stubble that approaches a beard, and a duffel bag.

Dean’s smirk fades into a softer grin when he takes in the familiar curve of your face, the gentle frame of your body, the sight of your tears, welling up in your eyes.

You take in a shuddering breath, and you go to him. Dean drops his bag so that he can properly welcome you where you’re supposed to be.    

His arms wrap around your waist, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He smells like motel soap and second-hand clothes, but all you care about is that he feels solid and alive and your heart’s just shy of shattering, or knitting back together. It beats a fast flutter in your chest.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he rumbles in your ear. You nod, even though you can’t help the way you’re shaking, crying, clinging to him.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You hate that those are your first words to him, but you can’t help it. That’s what you feel, down to your bones. “We tried so damn hard to find you…”

Dean pauses a bit on that, but he just shakes his head. He meets Sam’s gaze behind you and offers his brother a smile. Sam smiles back; he’s full to the brim at the sight of Dean, but for you, he’s patient. He can wait his turn.

“I know,” Dean tells you, holds you a bit tighter. “I'm all right. It’s not your fault, you understand?”

You draw another shaky breath and lean back far enough to see his face. You raise a hand to touch his cheek. When he stares down into your eyes, you know you’re going to be okay.

And so will he. You’re going to make sure of it.

In lieu of words, Dean leans down and captures whatever you might’ve said then with his lips. The kiss is heat and longing, both sweet and rough. It’s everything you need.

It’s a long drive all the way back to your cabin in the woods. Dean checks on you often while you’re passed out asleep in the backseat. He’s back in the driver’s seat of his car, hands wrapped around the familiar leather steering wheel, but he still doesn’t feel totally…right.

Despite being wrapped around the leather, his right hand feels empty. Like it needs the weight of a weapon. He’s still tense and on edge, even now, and Sam notices.

“What was it like?” he asks, quietly so he doesn’t wake you. He’s glad you’re finally sleeping.

“Purgatory?” Dean scoffs. “Like being deep in God’s freakin’ armpit.”

Sam’s brows knit together, but he waits, seeing if Dean will continue. And he does, after giving Sam a brief glance.

“It was monsters, Sam.” A never-ending twilight. Never a moment to rest. A wide-eyed existence of gnashing teeth and blood and black ooze.

When Sam inevitably asks how he got out of Purgatory, Dean is vague, evasive. Castiel didn’t make it, he admits, also in halting detail. But Dean is more willing to focus on how tired you and Sam both look. How pale your skin is. How it seems like this is the first hour of sleep you’ve gotten all week.

“How’s she been?” Dean asks, once again checking on you through the rearview mirror. Sam inhales deeply, making Dean frown.

“She’s been holding on,” Sam replies. “Strong, for Kevin especially. Poor kid’s too scared to go outside half the time.”

Dean turns to him with a frown.

“You’ve been taking care of her, right?” he asks.

Sam huffs, with a wry smile. “When she let me.”

Dean quirks a bit of a smile. That sounded like you. Stubborn at your best, damn near impossible at your worst. But the latter is what he’s worried about.

He later carries you inside the cabin, acknowledging your sleepy mumbles that you can walk, but not actually heeding your words. Sam tells him which one is your room, and Dean carries you there. By then you’re awake, but resigned to the fact that he isn’t going to let you down.

Your hand smooths up his arm, up the back of his neck and into his hair. It makes a pleasant tingle run up his spine.

“Your hair’s gotten long,” you muse, sorting your fingers through the strands. His hair’s darker too, not quite so dirty blonde, now leaning closer to light brown.

Dean smiles a bit. “If that’s all that’s changed, then I’d say I’m in good shape.”

He lays you down on the bed, and you bring him down with you by grabbing onto the front of his gray undershirt. He sinks down onto the edge of the bed and drifts a hand from your arm, to your face. He refreshes his memory of every angle, the soft feel of your skin. He knows his hands are rougher, but you feel the same.

You draw him into you and it begins.

Kissing him feels like taking a much needed breath. The way he grips your arms when you lick sensuously into his mouth—a sudden squeeze, an iron hold—it ignites your blood and the fire in your lower belly.

Your fingers rake into his hair. His solid grip moves to your hips, and you lie back when he guides you onto the mattress.

The sound of your breaths mingling together become shallow as you shove the plaid off his shoulders and ruck up the shirt. He does the same for your shirt and jeans, followed by his own. All that’s left it his skin against yours and rough hands squeezing fingerprint bruises into your hips and thighs.

You don’t mind at first; the strength of his hold and how much he wants you spurs you on. You’re slick and pulsing with need when Dean eventually slides home inside you. He has a hand tight in your hair, gripping tighter as he begins to move hard and fast.

“Dean,” you pant. You moan on his name, but you’re also trying to get his attention. You wince as his hand tightens, both in your hair, trapped against the pillow, and on your hip. You hold onto his wrist.

“Ease up, baby,” you whisper. You don’t want Sam or Kevin to hear you, even though you’re sure they could guess what you and Dean are up to.

But Dean doesn’t seem to hear you at first. You look up into his eyes, and you’re not sure if he’s entirely seeing you. It’s not like him, and it triggers warning signals in your mind. You have to wrap your legs tightly around his hips, squeezing his wrist even harder to stop him for a moment.

“Dean,” you insist. And he finally sees you.

When you soothe a thumb against his wrist, his eyes widen. He releases his hand from your hair, bracing against the bed instead.

He frees the other hand from your hip, and he sees the shape of his fingers already forming in your skin. He knows his hold was tight enough to bruise down to the bone.

It’s happened before, but not like this. Dean’s never lost control like that. Not with you, even in times like these.

“Fuck,” he mutters as he catches his breath, frowning deeply. His green eyes meet yours, raw and guilty. “I uh…I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head at him with a thoughtful frown. You reach up to frame his face with both hands, and you wordlessly tug him down to you. Dean is somewhat reluctant, but he follows your guiding hands and meets your waiting kiss, tender and slow.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats against your lips. His voice is low and coarse, filled with the true depths of his emotions. Everything he's been trying to hide from you.

Your eyes sting with the threat of tears.

“It’s okay,” you reply, through sweeter kisses. “I love you. We're gonna be okay.”

He hesitates. Then, he nods, accepting your words and your warmth.

His hand slowly brushes against your thigh, soothing along your bruising skin. You still have your legs wrapped around his hips, but you lessen your own hold, now that he seems to have come back to himself.

You both realize then that it might not be okay for a while. But that too is all right. Because you’re nothing if not stubborn, and Dean is worth the challenge.  

He closes his eyes to breathe and center himself. They blink open at the feeling of your hand, insistent on his shoulder. Your face is both tenderness and determination.

You push against him and twist until he's the one on his back, on the bed, holding your hips, the two of you still joined. He looks up at you still with a measure of reluctance.

"I've got you this time," you tell him, stroking his cheek. His almost-beard prickles against your palm.

After a moment, you can see in his eyes that he believes you.

And you begin again.

AN: Gaaaah, this man. I'm weak every time I write about him. 🥲

I have another Dean imagine coming soon. Some special anon asked for the reverse of "Sam being in love with Dean's girlfriend."

So stay tuned for "Dean gives you an impossible choice." 😉

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#ask me stuff #reuniting with Dean #Dean back from Purgatory #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester #sam winchester #angst #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x female reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester fic #spn #supernatural #zepskies answers

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Kim Seungmin x F!Reader TW : pregnancy ; childbirth ; the pregnancy complications are finally announced ; Changbin is still the coolest best friend ; Seungmin trying to do better ; fluff at the end ; premature birth ; emergency c-section ; little bit of crack humor (i think it's funny) ; Word Count : 7.9k Request : so many people wanted part 2 to Seungmin Dad!Angst , and it won in the poll, so here we are! A/N : I hope this lives up to everyone's wishes of how they wanted it to be and how they wanted it to end! Also, I'm tagging everyone that seemed excited for part 2 and everyone who commented that they wanted to be tagged and the ones who said they wanted a part 2... I hope that's okay!

“You look like you’re waiting for a call from the president, calm down, buddy.” Hyunjin said as he sat on the couch, watching Seungmin pace the room back and forth. “Just talk to me while you wait… Did you get to see her? How big is she? Is the nursery set up? I can’t believe I get a little nephew, are you excited?!” 

Seungmin stopped in the middle of the room, glaring at Hyunjin who seemed to be full of optimism while it felt like his own life was in shambles. He hadn’t exactly told Hyunjin what was going on though, mainly because he was so focused on waiting for the call from Changbin that he didn’t want to answer anything else unless it was his phone. “I didn’t get to see her at all… I don’t know about the nursery, I don’t know about anything, that’s why I’m waiting for the call from Changbin because he vaguely said that she wasn’t doing okay and I’m really scared right now. Does that answer all of your questions?” 

Hyunjins smile fell immediately and he lowered his head. “Sorry… You don’t know what happened?” He asked, and Seungmin shook his head, dropping down into the recliner and throwing his head back with a loud groan. “I don’t know why he wouldn’t let you see her though… It’s your kid…” 

While Hyunjin had a point, Seungmin couldn’t stop thinking back on what Changbin said. “Just the mere thought of me apparently makes her cry… And he said that she doesn’t need to be stressed right now… I don’t even know if I’ll be able to see her before the baby is born… I’m having a son…” 

He was rambling now, not even caring that Hyunjin was in the room. “I know… You told me…” Hyunjin whispered, but Seingmin wasn’t listening. He shook his head as he continued to stare at the ceiling, his quiet sniffles filling the room. “Don’t cry… I’m sure that it’s not anything too bad. Maybe she just wasn’t feeling well and Changbin wanted her to rest. Maybe you’ll be able to see her once she’s feeling better… You need to be a little more hopeful.” 

“It’s not just that though…” Seungmin debated, turning to face Hyunjin with glossy eyes and flushed cheeks. “What if she doesn’t want to see me at all? What if she doesn’t want me in his life? What if she ends up with Changbin at the end of all of this because he’s been there with her through everything? What if I was too late?” 

Hyunjins lips pulled together into a thin line before opening with a small pop, and for the first time, he didn’t seem as optimistic. “You could have talked to them… You could have let her explain. You should have let her explain. You could have talked to Chan hyung… Jisung… You could have talked to any of us. You let your own thoughts get the best of you, and I understand where your worries came from, but you let them fester instead of trying to fix them.” 

Seungmin nodded slowly, he had nothing to say to that… Hyunjin was right. He had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts, in his own worries that he never even took the time to try to sort them out. The silence was awkward because Hyunjin was waiting for a response that Seungmin didn’t have, and the only thing that broke the silence was Seungmins phone vibrating on the coffee table. “Hello?!” He rushed out the word as soon as he answered, not even bothering to check the caller ID, only hoping that it was Changbin on the other end. 

“I can’t talk for long, she just finished her lunch and she’s resting again, I only have a couple minutes or so…” Changbin said as quietly as possible, and Seungmin wondered where he was right now. Why were you resting so much? What was wrong? “I’m gonna make this as short as possible. She started bleeding and I took her to the doctor. The doctor said it was partial placental abruption, but it’s too early for Y/N to deliver the baby, so she’s on bed rest. Her movements are very limited, she can only go to the bathroom and take a shower. I don’t want her to be stressed anymore than she already is, and I know that for some reason, you’re trying to come back all of a sudden, but she can’t handle that right now.” 

Seungmin had no idea what the hell Changbin was talking about, he didn’t know what placental abruption was, he did understand that it was too early to deliver, but he needed more information. “Is… Is the baby okay? Is Y/N okay? Are they going to die?” He hated saying that word in any connection with you or his son, but he needed to know… The lack of information was killing him. 

“I mean… I don’t know, Seungmin. I’m just going off what the doctor told me… And from what she said, it sounds pretty damn serious. You’d know if you had been here, but you haven’t.” Of course, another jab at his absence, and while it was to be expected, it didn’t change the fact that it pissed him off, especially right now when he was just trying to figure out what was going on. “Let me make it a little more simple for you… Your son's lifeline is slowly being unplugged, and we don’t know why, we don’t know how…. But if it completely unplugs, it could kill your son and really hurt Y/N… Okay? Does that help? Is that enough answers for you?” 

“No… It’s not.” Seungmin retorted, and through his anger, he felt nothing but fear. He didn’t want to lose his son, not before even having the chance to meet him or see him in pictures. He sure as hell didn’t want to lose you… But Changbin was ticking him off. “Why are you being such an asshole? Shouldn’t it be enough that I’m trying to come back? It’s not like I waited until she had him…” 

“Yeah, you waited until she was put on bed rest with 3 more months to go through this shit. You waited until she was at the most stressful and scary moment in her pregnancy just to show up at the door and almost stress her out even more. Why do you think I’m being an asshole?” Changbin argued back, huffing loudly. “You picked a really bad time to give a shit, and while I’d love to try to make things easier for you and make you feel better and help make up for the time that you threw away… I just think that the health of your son and Y/N is more important than your emotions.” 

“Well maybe it would be less stressful for her if you stopped assuming what was best for her and my son and just let me go up and see them myself!” Seungmin argued back, jumping up off the recliner and throwing his free hand into the air. “What if she wants me back in her life and you’re the reason that she’s so upset because you’re keeping me from seeing her! You ever think about that or do you just think about yourself?!” 

“Ohoho! That takes a lot of nerve coming from the guy who had to make up the most ridiculous excuse to get out of manning up and being a good boyfriend and a decent father! You basically accused her of being a whore and your son of being a bastard but sure, you’re the first person that she wants to see.” Changbin scoffed, and Seungmin hated the sound of it. “Stop trying to pretend that this wasn’t all your fault to begin with. Stop pretending that you’re some type of victim now that someone else decided to fill the gap that you left. I don’t have time for this, and neither does she. I’ll come into practice when I can, and like I said at the house, I’ll try to be cordial with you… But you just continue to piss me off.” 

“We-” Seungmin began, but the beeping coming through the speaker let him know the call had ended before he could say anything else. “Fuck!” He shouted, throwing his phone down onto the couch beside Hyunjin and dropping down into the recliner once more, his hands running over his face as he sighed loudly. “What the fuck!? Who does he think he is? Huh?” 

“I don’t know man, but… You both sound like you’re out of line and… The way that you two are acting, it’s not good for Y/N and the baby at all. You both need to put aside your bullshit and try to find a happy ground for her and the baby.” Hyunjin said, running his fingers through his hair and tsking his tongue. “That whole thing that happened right there… That was ridiculous and childish and if Y/N ever found out about that, she’d be so disappointed in the both of you. I actually feel worse for her and the baby than for either of you. Grow up… You’ve got a son on the way, start acting like an adult.”

///

“Who was that on the phone?” You asked when Changbin walked into your room, your head straining to lift just enough to look at him as he walked through the door. It was clear as day that he was annoyed, he wasn’t very good at hiding those emotions, he was like an open book. 

He shook his head, giving you a sheepish smile as he sat on the edge of your bed. “It was no one important… How are you feeling? Do you need to go to the bathroom? Are you hungry?” He asked, trying to change the subject. It wouldn’t be that easy though, mainly because you had a pretty good idea of who he was talking to, you just wanted to see if he’d be honest. 

“Binnie…” You murmured, reaching out and grabbing his hand to give it a soft squeeze. You knew that the only reason he was trying to keep it from you was because he cared and he didn’t want you to get hurt, but you were an adult, you were having a baby… “It was him… It was Minnie, wasn’t it?” You asked, and he rolled his eyes as his nose scrunched up in disgust. 

“I hate it when you call him that… He doesn’t deserve the nickname… It’s too cute for someone like him.” Changbin grumbled, his thumb brushing over your knuckles lightly, something he often did to calm himself down. “Even if it was him… It’s not fair that he gets to decide when he wants to be in your life… I’ve been taking care of you and he still acts like I’m the one that took you away from him. I wouldn’t have to be here if he wasn’t such an idiot.” 

You dropped your head down to the pillow, chewing on your bottom lip as you stared at the ceiling that Changbin had so generously decorated with little drawings from all of the guys and even a poster from the new album that he had unboxed with you… The poster happened to be one of him which only made him happier. “I know that you don’t like him right now… But I still love him… Even though you think I’m stupid for that…” 

“I never said you were stupid for loving him…” Changbin cut you off, looking over at you with a small pout. “I just said that I didn’t understand why or how you could still love someone who assumed those things about you.” He corrected and you nodded your head along with his words. 

“But you think it… Either way… I love him, and maybe it’s because he’s the father of this little guy… But I’m not going to keep my son from seeing his father, especially if Seungmin wants to be in his life. I can’t take that away from either of them…” You explained for what seemed like the millionth time, except this time, Seungmin had actually come back, and while you really understood Changbins reasons for keeping him away, you were still upset about it. 

“What if he stresses you out… Huh? What then? You know that being stressed out isn’t good for you or the baby… Why do you want to do this to yourself?” Changbin tried to reason, but you only shook your head, already beginning to cry as you once again thought about Seungmin and the months that he had missed, the future he seemed so willing to give up on before. “Don’t… Don’t cry, you know I hate it when you cry… I… What… What do you want me to do?” He finally relented, his head hung low, and you could see it was killing him to give you this option because he knew what you’d say, what you’d ask for. 

“Can you just… Call him… And ask him to come over? I want to see him… I really do…” You whispered, and Changbin looked at you, giving you one last chance to back out of this choice that he thought was quite dumb… But you nodded your head to emphasize and he groaned softly, getting up off the bed and walking towards the door. “Thanks, Binnie.” 

As much as you would have liked for the call to be made in the same room, you felt like that in itself would be stressful for you. You didn’t want to hear them argue, and you had this gut feeling that Changbin would still be in his mood when inviting Seungmin over. That didn’t stop you from listening to bits and pieces of the conversation though, and you could hear Changbin being short with Seungmin… And truthfully, the only reason you knew it was Seungmin was because of the way Binnie was talking. 

“No way!” Changbin shouted, and you wished that the phone was on speaker so you could hear just what was going on, but you were left to just listen to Changbins end of the call. “I’m not picking you up and taking you to the damn flower shop! That’s ridiculous! If you want to get her flowers, find someone else to drive you over here.” A moment of silence followed, and then you heard Bins agitated sigh. “Oh please, you should be happy that I even called you to let you know she wanted you to come over. I could have talked her out of it! It’s not like you deserve to see her anyway!” 

Even without hearing Seungmins end of the call, you were already getting stressed. When he came back into the room after ending the call, you couldn’t even pretend like you hadn’t been listening. “I really do appreciate the fact that you care so much about me, Binnie… But could you at least try to act decent? I know you hate him, but you don’t have to fight my battles for me… Especially considering I don’t even want to fight… I just want to see him.” 

“Yeah, that’s the part I don’t understand…” He mumbled, returning to his place on the edge of your bed. “You’re too loving… You’re too forgiving. If I don’t fight your battles, I sure as hell know that you won’t. You just let people hurt you and you pretend that you’re okay, but if you were okay, you wouldn’t cry so much.” His lips pulled into a thin line as he looked at you, noticing the way you wouldn’t even look at him, your eyes averted to the other side of the room. “Is it so bad that I don’t want to see you get hurt?” 

“I’m not saying that it’s bad…” You muttered, fumbling with a loose thread on the blanket to keep your mind busy. “I’m an adult though, Changbin… I have a baby on the way… You’re not always going to be able to protect me. I’ve got to learn how to handle things myself, and… Even though I’m not yelling at people over the phone or threatening them with my nonexistent massive muscles… I can still handle it…” 

He chuckled softly as the mention of the muscles, his hand moving to squeeze your upper arm. “When you have this baby, I’m taking you to the gym with me. You’re gonna start doing the Binnie workout.” He joked, earning a small giggle from you as you tried to flex what little muscle you had. “Gonna get you so strong, you’ll be lifting little dudes stroller with one arm and holding him with the other.” 

///

Seungmin was shaking when he pulled up outside of your house, gripping tightly onto the gift bag that had a little outfit for his son and a bouquet of flowers for you. Hyunjins words had replayed in his mind the entire time he was browsing through the flowers, the fact that a bouquet of roses and apologies wouldn’t make up for what he had done… That’s why Seungmin didn’t pick roses, he had chosen your favorite flowers, something that he proudly remembered you talking about. 

His feet could barely carry him up the stairs, his knees felt wobbly and his hands were trembling as he lifted one to knock on the door. He couldn’t hear you or Changbin inside, but he was pretty sure you both were there considering the fact that Changbins car was still parked right out front. He could have knocked again… He should have knocked again, but in his mind, you had already said you wanted him there, and you were carrying his child… He just let himself in, walking quietly through the living room and down the hall where he saw you and Changbin in the bedroom. 

Seeing Changbin so close to you, touching you, making you giggle… It was infuriating, but he tried to bury that feeling as he rapped his knuckles against the bedroom door to let you and Changbin know he was there. “Wow… You don’t even knock, do you?” Changbin muttered when his head whipped around and he saw Seungmin standing there. 

“I did knock… You were too busy touching all over her to answer the door.” Seungmin retorted, walking further into the room and freezing when he saw you laying in the bed. You looked just as you did when he had left 6 months ago, but he could see the swell of your stomach underneath the blanket, and there was a certain kind of warmth that bloomed in his chest when the realization hit that it was his kid in there. “H-Hey…” 

Changbin might as well have completely disappeared, and in Seungmins eyes, he had… All he could focus on was you, the way your face contorted, and it looked like you were trying to smile, but there was a sadness in your eyes that he knew was also caused by him. “Hi…” You muttered back, giving a small wave of your hand before dropping it back down on the bed beside you. “I didn’t think you’d come…” 

“Why wouldn’t I?” He quizzed, taking another step towards the bed. “I wanted to see you… I came to see you earlier today and Changbin said you were resting. He wouldn’t even let me inside. He made me stand out in the pouring rain while he told me basically how much of a piece of shit I was.” 

“See!” Changbin screeched, pointing towards Seungmin as he looked at you. “He only agreed to come here because he wanted to start shit! Sure! Make yourself look like the victim even though you’re the one who left!” 

Seungmin jumped up off the bed, his finger pressing into Changbins chest. “You’re just trying to keep me away from her! You say it’s because you want to make sure her and the baby stay healthy, but I saw the way you were touching her! You’ve got hidden motive and I’m not fucking stupid! Get away from my girlfriend and my kid!” 

Changbins head fell back as he let out a loud, sarcastic laugh. “Oh!? You mean the girlfriend that you broke up with?! The kid that you denied!? Is that who you’re talking about?!” His chest puffed out and he pushed Seungmin away from him, causing him to stumble back against the nightstand. “I invited you over here because she wanted to see you and talk to you! If you’ve got a problem with me, we can handle it somewhere else. She doesn’t need your bullshit and your pity party act. No one here feels bad for you for what you did.” 

“You said that you were gonna talk her out of wanting to see me! You’re trying to take over! Go find your own girlfriend and have your own kid!” Seungmin shouted back, his anger through the roof at this point. 

“How about you both just stop?” Your voice came through all the noise, so soft, so timid, and they both paused to look at you. There were tears in your eyes and you were already beginning to sniffle as your bottom lip quivered. “You’re acting like idiots… You’re both making me regret wanting either of you around. If you’re gonna keep fighting, just… Go somewhere else.” 

“No… No, I want to be here… I want to see you.” Seungmin quickly pleaded, grabbing your hand on instinct, and while he thought you’d pull away, your fingers slipped between his and you pulled him closer. “I won’t fight… I just want to be here with you… I’ll ignore him.” Your head nodded slowly, and then you shot a stern look at Changbin who’s hands flew up in irritation before he stormed out of the room. “Does he… Does he move a lot? How do you get to the doctors if you have to stay in bed all the time? How do you… How do you shower?” 

You snorted softly, shaking your head. “I know what you’re thinking… It’s pretty obvious now… Changbin does not help me in the shower. I go by myself, he just has to help me get out of bed so I don’t strain too much.” That explanation in itself was relieving to hear, but you weren’t done yet, and Seungmin listened intently to everything you had to say. “He moves a whole lot, can’t get him to sit still, especially when I’m trying to sleep. He’s a menace… Just like you.” Seungmin chuckled lightly, already feeling so close to his son, he had never met him, and this was the closest he had been to you and your stomach since he had left, but he felt as close as ever to you and the baby. “The doctors have to come here to check on me every other day, and they call me daily just to see how I’m doing. It’s too early to have him, so they just have to monitor me closely.” 

“If it’s okay with you…” Seungmin started, moving closer to you on the bed and letting his free hand move down to your stomach, smiling softly to himself when he felt a bit of movement beneath your skin. “I want to be here… I want to stay with you. I want to be here when he’s born and every single day after that. I’m sorry for what I put you through… I can’t make up for the time that I lost from being a total idiot… But I want to be in his life, and I want to be in yours.” 

“Why did it take so long for you to figure it out?” Your voice was low, it sounded like your throat was closing up and Seungmins heart clenched hearing you sound so upset. “You could have asked… We could have talked about it… You missed so much.” He nodded to your words, he knew what he could have done, he knew what he should have done, but he hadn’t done anything. “I guess it’s… It’s too late to try to play catchup… It would be weird starting over from here though… Wouldn’t it?” 

Your weak chuckle as you motioned to your stomach had him smiling, although it was more of a grimace. “I don’t want to start over.” He mumbled, absentmindedly playing with your fingers as he stared at your stomach, not willing to admit it out loud, but he couldn’t look you in the eyes, not without feeling ashamed for what he had put you through. He only felt worse for expecting you to want to pick up where you left off, and honestly, things weren’t so good then either. “I want to tell you that I… I love you…” Your eyes widened at those three words, and it was noticeable, and it made him feel like shit. When was the last time he had told you that? “I want to say it every single day… I’ll say it a thousand times a day… Just to make up for every single day that I didn’t say it. I love you… I’ll start now… I love you.” 

“Shut up…” You mumbled, pulling your hand away from his, much to his disappointment, but he watched as you wiped your eyes, blinking them quickly, and a single tear rolled down your cheek. He quickly caught it with his thumb, his hand lingering on your cheek a little longer as he let himself really look at you. “What? I know… I’m not as pretty as before… It’s hard to brush my hair and do my makeup when I can’t move.” 

A soft scoff blew through his nose as he leaned in to press a kiss to your forehead. “Hush, bubby.” He cooed, letting his fingers dance across your face ever so light and down to your stomach once more. “I think you look just as beautiful… Maybe even more now…” 

“You weren’t even this sweet when we first started dating.” You commented, and he rolled his eyes. “You’re raising my expectations, Seungminnie. You better be like this all the time now.” 

His nose crinkled in fake disgust as he let out a groan. “I have 6 or more months to make up for being a jerk, that’s the only reason I’m being like this. Don’t call me out on it though, I feel gross.” 

Your tongue poked out from between your lips and his laughter, your laughter, it came out more genuine now. “I think it’s cute… You’re cute… Although I do miss you being the biggest tsundere in the world… Mr. I’m Not Soft.” You reached up to poke his cheeks, and while he’d usually pretend to be disgusted by it, he leaned into your touch now, pressing his lips against the palm of your hand. “I missed you…” You whispered, and he nodded his head in understanding, in agreement, because he truly missed you too. 

“So… If you two are done being super sappy now… I feel like I’m next in line for an apology.” Changbin said, finally making his presence known in the doorway to the bedroom. “I put up with a lot of shit for you, buddy. I want an apology, a hug… And I want my friend back…” He pouted from his spot near the door, his arms outstretched towards Seungmin. 

“I’m sorry… But ew. No… I don’t feel like doing all that right now. I am sorry though… For being an ass, and because I will not give you a hug right now. Maybe later though.” Seungmin teased, and Changbin slowly backed out of the room, and while he assumed that Changbin would stay a little longer, the front door opened and clicked shut, then the sound of a car being started up, leaving Seungmin and you alone in the house once again. “I guess I’m back for good now…” 

“I guess you are…” 

///

“How is she doing? Is the doctor still coming to see her? Does she have someone at the house coming to stay with her while you’re here?” Changbin asked as he sat on the floor beside Seungmin in the practice room. It had been almost two months since Seungmin had come back into your life, 7 weeks to be exact, and things were perfect. Seungmin couldn’t be happier, it was like he had never been gone, simply picking up at a time before his thoughts had gotten the better of him. 

“You really are annoyingly protective of her…” Seungmin joked as he leaned his head back against the mirror. “My sister is going to stay with her until my mom can take over. I made sure all of her favorite snacks are in the house and if she has to use the bathroom, they both know what to do to help her get out of the bed. The doctor is coming tomorrow though, that’s why I asked Chan hyung if I could come in a bit later.” 

“That’s all good but… How is she doing?” Changbin emphasized the very first question he had asked. It had been 7 weeks since he had last seen you, and while Seungmin had told him multiple times that he was still allowed to come over and hang out with you, Changbin didn’t want to cross that invisible line, especially so soon after things between you and Seungmin had just been fixed. 

“She’s been complaining of cramps this morning…” Seungmin mumbled, and while he knew that Changbin would bring you up, he thought that he’d be able to come to work to escape the worry at least for a couple hours. “That’s why I called the doctor, and I wanted them to come in today but apparently they couldn’t, so she has to wait until tomorrow.” 

The fact that the doctor thought it would be okay to wait made Seungmin relax a little though, if the doctor thought it was serious, they would have come in immediately to check on you… “Just let me know what’s going on, okay? Keep me in the loop, and if you two need anything… I’m here for you both.” Changbin sighed, drumming his hands on his knees. “Is she scared? Is she okay?” 

Seungmin shook his head, tapping his phone and looking down at the screen to make sure there were no new notifications before answering. “She said she’s fine… That she isn’t worried, but I know she’s lying. I can see it in her eyes, she’s scared…” 

“Oh I’m sure she is. You should have seen her when she first found out. She was an absolute wreck. I think she cried for an entire week. She was begging me to call you and get you over to the house the whole time, it was devastating.” Changbin didn’t mean any harm in telling Seungmin about the time, but he couldn’t help but feeling like absolute garbage hearing what you had gone through, knowing that he wasn’t around when you needed him most. 

“Yeah.. Let’s practice again… Please?” Seungmin muttered, trying to change the subject so he wouldn’t get worked up. He and Changbin were on good terms now, at least, as good of terms as two guys can be on after what had happened. “I really want to get this choreo down, I’ll be able to make it to one of the comeback shows if she lasts until her due date.” 

“Right… Right, you’re right.” Changbin pushed himself up off the floor, grabbing Seungmins hand and pulling him up alongside him. “Everything is gonna be fine though. Y/N was doing great, the doctor said that she would be just fine if we kept up with her bed rest, and… She’ll make it to the due date. Her and the baby will be fine, I’m like, 100% about it.” 

The song ended for what felt like the thousandth time, the guys standing around the room sweating and panting as they held onto the water bottles that they could barely even lift to their lips at this point. “Yah… Seungmin!” Hyunjin called from the back of the room, his voice dry and sounding absolutely parched as he held up Seungmins phone. “Your things been going crazy back here, vibrating nonstop. It’s a bunch of notifications and calls from Y/N, your mom, and your sister.” 

Now, there was absolutely no reason for the three of you to be calling at the same exact time, and Seungmin felt his stomach drop as he ran over to Hyunjin, snatching the phone out of his hand and looking at the screen. “Some of these calls are from 30 minutes ago…” Seungmin couldn’t hide the irritation in his voice. “You heard it going off… Why didn’t you tell me?! You could have stopped the music, you could have pulled me over!” 

“I didn’t know! I thought they were just calling to let you know that everything was okay! I didn’t think you’d want me to stop practice for that!” Hyunjin snipped back, huffing loudly through his nose as his arms crossed over his chest.

Seungmin ran his hands through his hair, panic setting in as he looked around the room at all the guys who seemed just as confused as Hyunjin, maybe even more… Except one… Changbin was wearing the same mask of concern that Seungmin knew he was wearing himself. “Call…. Call my sister or my mom, call both of them. I’ll try to get a hold of Y/N…” Seungmin rushed out the order and Changbin nodded, running out into the hallway, his phone already held up to his ear. Seungmin started dialing your number, listening to the ringing that went on for far too long without an answer. 

“Do you need me to drive you home to her? Maybe it’s not too serious? Did she answer?” Minho spoke up, and Seungmin shook his head fast, his chest tightening up as he tried to call you again. “She might just be in the bathroom…. Maybe you’re overreacting because you know that she’s not in the best of shape right now.” It wasn’t just that though. It was the fact that if anything bad did happen, you were still only 31 weeks pregnant. It was too early to have to baby, and there were major issues that you could face as well. There was a lot on the line here, and he needed to know that you were okay… He was furious with Hyunjin for completely ignoring the vibration, he was pissed at himself for even coming into work today when you were having cramps… He was mad at everyone. 

“We need to go… Like now!” Changbin shouted from the door, his head peaked in just enough to call out to Seungmin. Those words were definitely not what he wanted to hear, but he was already in motion, running out the door and then sprinting down the hallway behind Changbin who was already slamming his finger against the call button for the elevator. “Your sister… She’s totally freaking out right now man… Y/N started bleeding again and they called an ambulance… And they rushed her in for an emergency delivery of the baby… Apparently the placenta detached completely.” 

Completely… Completely? He had read about that happening, what would… what could happen if that were the case. His knees buckled as he stepped into the elevator, his back falling against the wall, his hand weakly gripping onto the side railing that wasn’t able to support him or help pull him up at all. “Who’s in the room with her? Is anyone with her right now? I don’t want her to be alone…” 

If anything happened to you or the baby, he’d blame himself, he’d never stop blaming himself. He wasn’t there when it started, and he wasn’t there now either. He just continued to fail you and his son, and he was beginning to wonder if these things happened as a sign, a way of the universe telling him that he didn’t deserve either of you. “They wouldn’t let anyone in… Your sister said that she looked through the little window and the last thing she saw was the mask being put over Y/N's face to put her to sleep. The doctors had to move fast…” Changbin explained as calmly as possible, but it was obvious, they both were freaking out. 

“Can you drive me… Can you get me to the hospital?” Seungmin asked, unable to get his heart to beat properly, the panic setting in full force now, his breaths unsteady as he looked up at Changbin from the floor. “Will they even let me in? Oh god… What if they don’t let me in? I need to be there with her… They can’t keep me out of the room, can they?” 

He was full of questions, but Changbin wasn’t answering any of them, his eyes downcast as he chewed on his bottom lip. “I… I don’t know… I don’t know what’s going on… Your sister and your mom haven’t called in a bit…” Changbin muttered, looking at his phone that was free of notifications, as was Seungmins. “I’ll get you to the hospital though… Don’t worry… It’s gonna be okay.” 

///

“Look! Look!” You cheered from the couch, causing Seungmin to look up from his phone. “He’s pulling himself up… I think he’s gonna do it this time…” Your voice softened, trying not to call the attention of your son just yet. Seungmin watched with wide eyes, his phone set down on the couch beside him, completely forgotten about as he looked on at his son who was now getting his balance on the side of the couch. “I think he’s gonna do it…” 

“Shh…” Seungmin hushed you, leaning forward to fully focus on the little boy that was wobbling slowly across the floor, one hand still gripping the edge of the couch until there was no more cushion to hold on to, his arms shooting forward as he took one step, and then another, babbling to himself until he got to the tv, his chubby hands pressing against the screen that was playing the groups latest comeback. “He did it… He did it!” Seungmin shouted once it had fully set in that his son had not only just taken his first step, but he had taken about five just to slap his hand against his fathers face on the screen. 

“My baby!” You cheered even louder now, jumping up off the couch and scooping up your son, holding him up that air and then bringing him back down to pepper kisses across his face. “You did it bubby!” You cooed, and while you sounded excited, Seungmin could also hear that you were choked up, on the verge of crying, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t too. 

“We didn’t get it on video…” Seungmin thought out loud, looking at his phone and then back to you, but you didn’t seem to care. The important thing was that you both had been there to see it, neither of you had missed it. “Babe…” Your face was now buried against your son’s tummy, something you did often to blow raspberries, but this time Seungmin knew you were trying to hide the fact that you were crying. 

Seungmin grabbed your son from your arms, pressing a kiss to the top of his head before carefully setting him down on the floor and then pulling you in for a tight hug, his hand rubbing circles against your back to try to calm you down. “They said… He wouldn’t be able to… That he wouldn’t be as quick to do these things as other infants…” You said shakily against Seungmins chest, and his hand moved to your hair to brush over it as he hushed you once more. “The doctors said he’d be delayed… And he isn’t… He’s so smart, Minnie… I’m so proud of him…” 

He nodded understandingly, those fears had been there from the moment your son was born, and they were only ingrained further into his head after hearing the doctor talk about what it would be like to raise a child that was born so early. “Of course he’s smart… he’s just like every other child, babe… He’s fine.” He reassured you, slipping his finger under your chin to tilt your head up, his forehead resting against your own. “And even if he wasn’t… I’d love him just the same. I’m just lucky that you both are here, that you both are okay…” 

You hummed in agreement, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes before peering around Seungmin to watch your son play with his toys. “I just want him to always be happy and healthy… I want him to always know how much we love him… And how proud we are of him…” 

“And he does… He will…” Seungmin whispered, smiling softly down at you as he helped catch the tears that had already fallen. “There’s no one that will ever love him more than we do, no one that will ever be more proud of him than we are.” He kissed you gently before pulling you down on the couch beside him, his arm loosely draped over your shoulder as your head fell against his. “I gotta tell Changbin… He’s gonna be so mad that he missed it. I’ll have to record him when he walks again.” 

Changbin, who had become closer to Seungmin than you ever imagined after they had rushed to the hospital together just a little less than a year ago. They had taken turns between sitting with you, and going to the NICU to check on your son and ask the doctors how he was doing. They both had cried at your bedside when they thought you were sleeping, and Seungmin had probably gotten more hugs from Changbin in that week than he had in his entire time knowing him. 

Seungmin had been a wreck when he saw your son in the incubator, the billi lights glowing across your sons almost translucent skin, the tubes that were coming out of his nose and his mouth to help him breathe, the IV that was stuck in the vein in the side of his neck just to make sure he had enough nourishment. It was the scariest time for the both of you, and Changbin had been there through it all. 

He had driven you and Seungmin up to the hospital every single day while you both waited those two months to finally be able to bring him home. He’d go through the hassle of getting a visitors pass just to be able to walk into the NICU and say hi to your son, to check on him and see how he was doing before leaving just to pick you both up a couple hours later. 

Changbin was the one who held you and Seungmin together during those awful two months, when you both were emotionally drained, and he was the one who had made sure there was a carseat in the back of his car the day that you could finally bring your son home, working with Seungmin to make sure it was installed properly before excitedly standing off to the side to watch you buckle your son in. 

He was the bestest friend, the bestest brother, and the bestest uncle that you, Seungmin, and your son could have ever asked for. “What do you mean you forgot to record it?! How could you not record such a pivotal moment in little mans growing journey!? You better record it next time… Actually… I’ll just come over! I bought him a new toy and I think he’s gonna like it. I’ll be over in an hour.” 

“You tired of him yet?” Seungmin asked as he replayed the voice message that Changbin had sent, his chest vibrating with laughter at how dramatic he sounded.

“I could never get tired of either of you.” You cooed, looking up at Seungmin who was already ready to give you another kiss, his fingers lightly squeezing your shoulder. “Although…” You continued after his lips pulled away from yours. “I think he’s trying to outdo the other guys in the whole uncle thing… bubby has so many toys.” 

“I think he already outdid them in the uncle thing.” Seungmin commented, leaning back against the couch and letting out a yawn. “I’m glad he’s here… I’m glad you two have him if I’m busy at practice… I never thought I’d say that…” Seungmin muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“I’m glad I have all of you…” You whispered back, kissing along his shoulder before looking up at him with eyes that looked too innocent to be believable, your lips pulling up at the corners and the expression screamed mischief. “I’m just… really happy that you two are so close… ya know… with another one on the way…It’d be nice to have Binnie babysit for doctors appointments and stuff…” 

“Another one…?” Seungmin whispered, his eyes wide like a deer in headlights, looking between you and your son who was in his own world, surrounded by the multitude of toys that he had. “Are you sure…? I did that… Again? I made another one?” 

You giggled lightly as you nodded your head, and then the front door swung open, Changbin loudly announcing his presence before pausing and then his mouth fell open as he pointed at you. “You already told him?!” 

“You already knew!?” Seungmin shouted back, and then his eyes were back on you. “Why did you tell him first? Were you worried I’d be mad? I would never be mad at you about that… I love you.” 

“Yah!” Changbin groaned, shutting the door behind himself before going over to pick your son up, ruffling his hair and saying hello before setting him back down and turning back towards you and Seungmin. “I’m always the first to know about your weak pull out game. Congratulations though, proud of you. Happy for you. Might need to upsize in the whole house department though if I’m gonna be the best uncle to two of your kids.” 

“My pull out game is not weak!” Seungmin defended himself, his entire face turning a bright shade of red. “This was totally planned. I love being a dad so much, I thought… Hey… What if I could be a dad to two kids? That was the whole thing, definitely planned.” 

Changbin scoffed and you even looked up at Seungmin with raised eyebrows. “Yeah… Okay.” Changbin sarcastically agreed, going over to the fridge and grabbing two beer cans and a bottle of water for you. “Just wait till the guys find out about this, you’re never gonna live it down. Not even a full ten months since little man was born either. You’re impatient.” 

“Shut up, man…” Seungmin mumbled, grabbing the beer and chugging it quickly, hoping to hide his embarrassment under the guise of being flushed due to the alcohol. “I’m sure you’d be the same way if you had a girlfriend.” 

And the bickering continued, so much that even your son ended up toddling over- much to Changbins excitement- and climbing onto Seungmins lap to join the conversation, albeit, in baby talk, but you all found it adorable. Your family was perfect, it surely hadn’t started out that way, and there had been many bumps in the road to get to where you were now, sitting in the living room surrounded by your favorite boys, another child on the way, and while none of this had been planned, you were happy. Sometimes it was the most spontaneous things, things that happened without a single thought… those things were what made life worth living, it made life perfect… and for you, it made life complete. 

Taglist : @steviesbergthuis @lovesunshinefelix @0325tiny @dwaekkiiiiii @jihyun2monster @skzswife @saiko-skz @keylex @strawberry31 @turtledove824 @ladyofodaiba @klyde06 @jellyglly

#skz #stray kids #skz x reader #skz x you #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #skz angst #stray kids angst #stray kids headcanons #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fic #stray kids drabble #skz headcanons #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz fic #skz drabble #kim seungmin #seungmin #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin angst #seungmin headcanons #seungmin scenarios #seungmin imagines #seungmin fic #seungmin drabble #dad!skz #dad!stray kids

[vnmpior]

okay.. can i ask for leon cockwarming you????11&2×*×* as a punishment? I SAW THAT ONE POST THAT LEON WOULD DO THAT THINKING ABOUT IT MAKES ME WANT TO READ ONE

YOU ASKED FOR IT

LEON KENNEDY (re4) x reader

note — I GOT TO THIS REQUEST SO LATE. i don't think i've read the post of him doing that but whoever wrote it is doing a service to everyone in the world. i don't know what game leon you want me to write about so i'll do re4make (i'm holding myself back from making it id leon). + i suck at writing punishment smut especially w this type of punishment.

tags — nsfw, porn w a hint of plot, badly written smut, slight praise, teasing, fem bodied reader, cockwarming obviously, use of pretty girl and baby

i am not responsible for any minors interacting w this post - nsfw under the cut

not proofread.

"le-mmph, leon, wait," you tried prying away the hand that was currently in between your thighs, his fingers teasing your sopping cunt.

"hm?" he hummed. "what, you want me to stop?"

you shook your head quickly. "just slow down," you mumbled out. you didn't want carlos to hear, who was downstairs sleeping, staying over since he was too drunk to drive home from the bar.

"i haven't even done anything yet, and you already want me to slow down?" he cooed. his free hand trailed up and down your thigh, sending shivers down your spine.

your clothes had been discarded on the floor as soon as the two of you had made it to your room, leon still in his fitted shirt that had you staring at him longer than usual.

"you can tell me to slow down, but you can't tell carlos to keep his hands to himself?" he questioned, his hand making his way from your thigh to your chin, turning your head to face him.

"we were just talking," you struggled to get out as leon momentarily slid a finger in you, curling it before stopping.

"just talking? did you see the way he looked at you? i bet he was wishing that he was in my spot right now."

now that you really thought about it, you realized how many times he left lingering touches on the small of your back and arm, eyeing you up and down in your satin dress.

"i don't want him, i want you," you whimpered out.

"well, is that what he thinks? he probably thinks that he can get you in his bed in no time." leon furrowed his eyebrows, a shadow cast over his eyes. "i guess i'll just have to make it obvious you're mine."

he pressed your body closer to his, and buried his face in your neck, nipping at you. he finally resumed moving his fingers in and out of your cunt and a rapid pace, causing you to claw at his back.

the sound of squelching mixed with your moans and gasps had leon holding back from just outright fucking you right then and there. "let it all out baby." he praised.

"you gonna cum for me sweetheart? you gonna be loud enough so carlos can hear who you belong to?" he curled his fingers up to that certain spongey spot which led you to buck your hips up and throw your head back.

"answer me," he prodded at your g-spot, and you muffled a moan.

"y-yes leon," you stammered out.

"you want my fingers or my cock?" leon smirked as you whined when he stopped moving his fingers.

"wan' you in me." your hips grinded against his hand, which he quickly drew away to unbuckle his jeans, which he looked uncomfortably tight in, the tent obvious.

he chuckled at you clenching around nothing, and slowly he slowly pushed himself in your entrance, letting out a drawn out groan. you arched your back as leon gathered both of your wrists into his grip and held them above your head. you struggled for a bit before remembering the strength difference.

"you wanna touch me?" he teased.

you nodded, lips parted and eyes half lidded.

"mm, alright," he let your hands drop down, and you wrapped your hands around his waist, expecting him to start his typical brutal pace, but instead, he flipped you around so you were on top, as if you were about to ride him.

that's what you thought, lifting your hips up, only for leon to grip your hips with bruising strength and slam you back down, you letting out a surprised moan.

"didn't you want to go slow, baby?" he traced shapes along your hipbone and lower thigh. "you think i'd just fuck you and it'd be over?"

"please, leon, please," your voice cracked as you begged for him to let you move

"i love listening to you beg, pretty girl, but don't you think it'd be a reward? i don't think you deserve a reward." he shook his head.

you whined, moving around as much as you could, which was pretty little with his big, strong hands holding you down.

"how about this. you don't move until i say you can, and i'll do whatever you want me to do for you, alright baby?" you knew that either you agreed and get what you wanted, or disagree and he'd still make you do it and you wouldn't get anything in the end.

"fine," you said, lying down on his chest, leon loosening his hold on you.

you were trying so hard not to move, but you couldn't stop yourself from trembling and tightening around his thick cock. occasionally you'd slightly grind down on him, and you knew this wasn't going unnoticed.

"do that one more time, and i'll make sure you don't get to cum for the rest of this month," he threatened, and you felt his fingers slowly dig into your skin. you were definitely bruising after this.

it felt like hours passed. you didn't know how leon wasn't pressing your legs up against your chest and fucking the shit out of you, but he seemed relaxed. especially compared to you, tense and squirming around.

"something wrong?" he raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"want you to fuck me so bad," you murmured against his chest.

"hmm," he pretended to think. "maybe."

you pouted, eyes tearing up from not getting the pleasure that you want so bad.

"is my pretty girl about to cry? aww," he mocked you, the sweet voice he had shadowing the teasing nature of the sentence. you felt your slick pool at the base of his crotch.

"i should make it more obvious that you're mine, so you won't have to go through this again, huh? you don't want to get punished again, right princess?"

"yes, yes. just please, can you please fuck me," you pleaded, hands scrambling to the top of his shoulders.

"if i fuck you, I wanna hear my name come out of those pretty lips of yours, baby. let carlos know what he doesn't get to have."

#x reader #LEON IS SO FUCKING FINE #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #re4 remake #re4make #re4remake #leon x reader #leon x reader smut #resident evil 4 leon #resident evil 4 #resident evil #re4 leon #re4 leon x reader #infinite darkness #re2make #re2 x reader #re4 x reader #resident evil x reader #re6 leon #re6 x reader #re damnation #leon kennedy x reader smut

[ieatangstforbreakfast]

Pairing ೃ⁀➷ 𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝟒𝟐! 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐬 x Fem! Reader

Summary ೃ⁀➷ Lovers have secrets of their own, no matter how much they come to trust each other, whether it be a past mistake or an unspoken trauma. For you and Miles, however, your secrets came in the form of hidden identities— one being a masked vigilante, and the other a mastermind.

Genre ೃ⁀➷ Forbidden love, mutual pining, angst♡

Tags ೃ⁀➷ Both are artists, reader is from a very wealthy family, both are living double lives, underaged smoking, reader is female and uses she/her pronouns, forbidden love (ish?), swearing, daddy issues, mommy issues, reader is unhinged, both are mentally unstable, lots of flirting.

Author's Note ೃ⁀➷ i thought about this plot over and over, and I hesitated publishing it since i don’t want to deviate so much from everything but i said fuck it, so now ere i am, greeting y’all with ‘wassup villain’

Tag list ೃ⁀➷ @sakura-onesan @coffeeandtealol @luvjunie @noetophat @proudgojofucker @depresssedcowboy @shuna-boin

⚠️ 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⚠️ Mommy issues, mention of death,, profane language, plot progression. Pronouns keep shifting bc Miles thinks you’re a guy. A bit confusing? Anyways, congrats with your debut. I’ve got uh.. A little surprise? Enjoy.

FIC MASTERLIST

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

"Park behind the building B, McLaren. I’ll have to deal with a separate matter, for now, call backup."

"Yes, miss."

Ring. Ring.

Your head pivots at the sound of your phone’s ringing, eagerly answering the call without having to look into the ID, knowing a thing or two about a certain someone’s timing.

“What’s going on so early in the morning?” Your father haggardly asks. You could already smell the stench of his morning breath from the car.

“We have trespassers in the Warehouse.” You start. “Two of them, partners. The duo we know as the Prowlers.”

“What?” You hear the morning grogginess laced in his voice. “Who leaked the information?”

“I’ve updated Morrison and he’s currently investigating the black market. I suspect a traitor.”

“Evidence?”

“There’d been no reports of outsiders entering the vicinity. All employees have been given fake addresses and all of their gadgets have been monitored— and so far, no one’s been flagged, so my guess is.. A higher up who’s sold us out.”

There you go.

“… I’ll look into it.” Your father mumbles. “Make sure that nothing is released into the media. The election is coming soon, we don’t want to do anything that’ll stir the public.”

“Understood.”

And the call ends just like that.

You blankly look at the road ahead of you, skin itching from the tightness and texture of your leather coat. Laid before your lap was a flat screen, in it were nine boxes— each playing a variety of scenes brought to you by the hidden cameras. Across every box, two swift figures maneuvered past the rooms with incredible ease. Several workers and scientists were sprawled across the jagged floors, motionless like corpses. You grimaced at the possibility of them being dead, but after seeing the thick gas emanating throughout every crevice of the building, you safely assumed that they were simply knocked out.

The Warehouse housed one of your father's investments; an Oscorp-Alchemax experiment funded by the elites, done underground and tested on prisoners to find some sort of super serum. When the new money folks thrusted themselves into the world of High society, most of the higher elites came to applaud the idea of one man.

Harry Osborn.

As a kid, you grew up aspiring to be like Harry. Always so friendly and approachable to anyone and everyone he’s ever met.

He did it so effortlessly that you recognized his niceness as a talent.

Harry came from second generation money— hailing this scientific empire called Oscorp. Having been brought up by his father, Norman, who was an industrialist, Harry was all things sciencey.

After his father's death, Harry sought out a blueprint of his father's past works, finding a journal containing the records of several hypotheses in regard to a variety of drugs. A sort of instruction to turn into a superhuman being, he claims, that his father had put into mind but never really practiced.

A handful of the higher-ups adored the impressionable idea, one of its primary investors being your father. You never really understood his reasons, but when the drug seemingly began showing fruitful results, your father set you up under Antonne's name to supervise Warehouse 317 after Harry entrusted your family to house the experiment.

So at that moment, you weren't you.

And Miles wasn't Miles.

He didn’t know what he was doing here. But he never bothered to really ask since his Uncle seemed tense all throughout the journey.

When Aaron told him to strap up for a sudden mission, he wasn't expecting a raid— nor was he expecting him to bring him to a hidden laboratory containing all these alien-like fuckeries. From glass beakers to drums filled to the brim with some sort of neon liquid, it all varied in levels of strangeness. Everywhere he looked, he could find the same circular, yellow warning sticker staring right back at him. Behind his digital mask, he skims past the unconscious workers— checking every crevice to see if anyone had escaped the incapacitating agent.

“According to the drive, the stuff are located in the north building.” His uncle’s voice snaps him out of the haze. “I’ll be heading there. I’m sure you can fend for yourself?”

“F’course I can,” Miles answered. “I can knock a bitch or two out with these.” He grinned while unfoldding his claw.

“You kiss your mama with that mouth? Watch yo tongue.”

“Yes, sir.”

Aaron pats his shoulder. “Record the evidence, I’ll go find the blueprints.”

With a single nod, Miles sets off with his mission in mind. When the holographic interface materializes from his wrist-mounted control panel, he activates the scanner with a light tap. The digitalized purple light cascades over the room, gathering physical data with each passing step.

He prided in his cut-edge tech— developed into great usage by his and his uncle’s hands. In a way, it reassured him that he had epically great potential, despite the current crisis going on in the city. But of course, his greatest pride was the fact that you liked the idea of the Prowler. That alone harbored him confidence he never knew he had.

Miles never initially thought of himself as a hero, no matter how much he’s worked to save the lower class of New York. Heroes existed in the confines of comic books and kids’ TV shows. He wasn’t super, and he wasn’t a hero either. The term was black and white. Narcissistic, as you would put it.

But he liked playing along to the idea of being a superhero to you.

He wanted you to gawk and admire his vigilante identity. He wanted you to look at the TV early in the morning with a mug of coffee in your hands, pointing at the screen with a squeal, ‘It’s the Prowler!’

Most of all, he wanted you to know about it eventually.

When he passes by the computers, Miles heads straight for the manila folders, unraveling his gauntlet just to grasp the files better.

[ 11 | 10 | 2020 ]

•[𝙿𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝: #𝟷𝟷𝟹𝟸] 𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝟻𝟼

𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚗𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚌𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎. 𝚜𝚞𝚋𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚊𝚌𝚝 𝚠𝚒𝚝𝚑 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛. 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚒𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚕𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜. 𝚍𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚕𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚍 𝚊 𝚜𝚘𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚡𝚒𝚎𝚝𝚢 𝚊𝚏𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚕𝚊𝚜𝚝 𝚋𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚍𝚘𝚠𝚗.

𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚞𝚛𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚕𝚢 𝚍𝚎𝚋𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚛 𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚘𝚓𝚎𝚌𝚝. 𝚕𝚊𝚝𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚋𝚎 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚊 𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚝𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝.

With the slightest jolt of his palm, the paper crumbles, and behind it sat another file. He peers through it diligently, only to find a name signed at the bottom.

And it crumples from the clamp of his fist.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

The surname, Primo-Chávez, was the household name of the family who owns the Primm Hotel, and a single mention of it alone only reignited the anger he was sparing for the upcoming plans. All of the rage he kept to himself was seeping out the cracks of his still-grieving heart, and the grief remained a permanent scar.

And with a whisper of the wind, the warehouse falls into darkness.

There was this chill crawling up his back, and it haunted him. And in the silence that surrounded him, he calls out for his uncle.

And it echoes, and echoes. No one replies. Only the silence answered to his desperate calls. At that point, all that he could hear was the sound of his own heart beating out of his chest— a sort of morbid reminder that he was still alive. It made him wonder if that was all his father heard when he was trapped beneath the fallen carcass all those years ago. Just like that carcass, in the midst of all that darkness, screams begin to bellow.

Oh. One of the scientists have woken up.

But all Miles could picture was all what could’ve happened that night, when everything fell apart. Did they scream like this? Call out for help like this? Did his father struggle to breathe like this?

A lone light shines above the metal rails— a watch window, large and square, gleaming in this daunt violent that flickered and flickered. There was a figure there, dark, willowy, and invasive in the way it stared.

Unmoving, watching. A gaze that lingered like the chill running down his back.

What did they do in here?

Like a croak, the question bubbles up his throat and releases.

“Who are you?”

Like a growl, the voice changer emits the query a too many tones lower. At that question, the being tilts its head.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Velvety, low, exhausted— and it oozed from the broadcaster mic like a tease. You stared at the Prowler, almost amused by his size. From above, he seemed much tinier, like less of a threat. You feel your breath cascade against the lenses of your gas mask, sweat sticking to the leather of your gloves. There, you see the digitalized magenta and the gleam of his steel claws, as though he meant to intimidate. You stood partially befuddled at the fact that the vigilante everyone revered and loathed was likely a teenager.

“… You don’t know what this place is, don’t you?”

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ.

The wall beside him crumbles into dust.

Miles shields himself from the impact, the cement’s fumes blinding his sights. Upon the activation of his night vision, he searches in behind the violet screen, finding only his uncle emerging from the smoke and debris, rushing with a USB in his hands. Behind him, a flock of guards came rushing in with their ray guns— flames of red bursting into a shower as the man signaled him to run.

Miles casts a quick glance at the window above.

No one’s there.

“ＥＶＡＣＵＡＴＥ ＡＬＬ ＥＭＰＬＯＹＥＥＳ

ＩＭ ＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ. ＩＭ ＭＥＤＩＡＴＥＬＹ.”

The digital voice commands along with a blaring alarm.

The warehouse that housed this elaborate labyrinth, it continued on and on like a maze. Bland green tiles and white walls, glass screens— like a pattern he immediately grew to dislike. It all went on and on like a fever dream, but Miles’ head was ringing with the sight of the man he saw up the window.

And he lays it all out in his mind, trying to piece it altogether.

Ｂ　Ｏ　Ｏ　Ｍ．

The walls click and collapse, and the floors shake, but Miles doesn’t look back. The sound of the guards’ heavy stomps cease though, eventually replaced with a sort of screech that irked his ears.

It was unfamiliar to him. He’s faced over a hundred bad people, but only the sight of that being unsettled him more than the rest.

“Up ahead!”

He watches as his Uncle heads right out the window with a fall, the shards ricocheting behind him like specs of snow as he throws a carabiner right back at Miles to snatch. His fingers thinly reach for the cord when he’s suddenly assaulted to the ground with a powerful force.

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

“Agh!” He grumbles in pain, rolling down to the ground. But even then, it wasn’t the pain that made every hair on his limb stand, it was the sound of your heeled boots clicking against the tiles, and the sound of your metal blade scraping against the wall.

“Mornin’, Prowler.”

Exhaustion made the delivery deeper. He senses it in you, and you sense it him. Though he was unaware of what your head was actually filled of, I’ve got a lecture at nine, I still have to do my literature essay, and I want to sleep. Miles wasn’t all that interested at all in what your mind bore. To be fair, from where he was, Miles only saw this figure towering over him with a long knife poking out its sleeve. Some gas mask, and a black leather coat. Even then as you stood above him, he could only watch as you fixed your gloves, pulling farther beneath your sleeve.

“It’s an honor to meet you like this.”

Fwip. With a crisp cut, the cord that connected him to his partner was severed. You throw it out the window along with the metal piece. “I’m not so usually cruel, but you’re trespassing my family’s property—“

“So this is your family’s property.” He stands back up, hands aching to fight. “Primo-Chávez. As I recognized.”

He claws at you, but instead, the metal meets the end of your unsheathed blade with a clink!

“You’re smart.” And when you pull away, he stumbles backward. “Let’s see if that’ll save you.”

Crack! The walls quivered as Miles narrowly avoided the blade aimed for his neck. He raises his gauntlets, lunging right at you with swift punches, to which you countered gracefully with quick blocks. Eventually, he manages to take hold of your shoulders, shoving you back with feet tangled like knots. You lower down and hook your heel over his ankle, pulling with force as he falters.

You crack your neck, pressing your heel over his shoulder to keep him down. “I’ll be honest with you, I think you’re awfully underwhelming.” You lean down to his level, musing yourself in the way he heaved.

“But I can forgive all that.” Your fingers fiddle with the strap of his backpack. “You’re useful in a way—“

With a gauntlet over your neck, he slams you against the wall.

“I ain’t working for nobody,” He churned. “And I definitely won’t be fucking working for people like you.”

“I never said you had to work for me.” You calmly replied despite his grip. “You just have to make better decisions from now on.”

“Fuck you mean by that?”

From the ache your neck bore, you knew it was gonna leave a bruise.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?”

He furrows his brows at that statement, holding himself back as he taunts. “… I wonder how your father is going to abandon you once I set this little investment of his on fire.”

Rather than the silence or panic he hoped, Miles heard you laugh.

“Do it.” You playfully suggest. “Do it, and kill all the other interns, employees, and guards in here.” Despite your façade, he could still sense the smirk creeping up your lips. “Then think to yourself, ask yourself; are you any better than my family?”

That alone catches him by surprise.

“… You’ve got a lot to learn.”

“What do you m—“ Before he could even finish off his sentence, a powerful strike ricochets into his stomach, sending him off to the other wall. A loud grunt emanates from his lips, hands gripping the lower of his belly as you set your foot down. “The next time we meet, do promise me that you’ll be much more of a promising opponent. Today was.. Eventless.” Your gaze sets sights on the camera hidden in the corner.

“For now, I’ll have to let someone else do the job.”

As though on cue, you see his partner rush in with the broken cord in his hand. The same broken cord you’d thrown out. Without another word, he lunges at you with lightning speed, and the way you collide with the glass wall sends ripples across the corridor.

“You goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Long time no see.”

Ｃ　Ｒ　Ａ　Ｓ　Ｈ.

And from then on, Miles watches as this figure and his uncle battled amidst the labyrinth. But your words struck him hard, ‘Long time no see’— what did that mean? Did his uncle have a sort of connection to the elites, or has he worked for the upper class before?

With how his punches flew, Miles sensed this sort of undying rage that crackled with the quiver of his Uncle’s fist.

Why did this battle seem so natural? Like the two of them know each other’s moves too well.

“I see you’ve resigned.” You curtly brought up, grunting as he mercilessly charges at you. “And seems like you’ve brought a little something with you.” Upon the mention of Miles, Aaron struck back with a blow, feigning ignorance at your words. Despite your state, you managed to put up a great fight. “Why did you bring him here? He doesn’t seem fit for the job—“

“Stop the small talk, Antonne.”

Antonne.

Anthony Primo-Chávez.

“I’m simply being polite,” You grinned. “It’s been a while, don’t you think so too?”

With that alone, Miles somehow confirmed that the figure was the heir of the hotel in the flesh. The man responsible for the deaths of many— the man responsible for the death of his father. But something felt wrong, like a sense that was gnawing at his guts.

He couldn’t pinpoint what it was exactly.

Just of now, Miles realizes that he had no place here, at least, not yet. But he was just as confused as the other guy, why did his uncle bring him here if it was too dangerous?

“Is your sister also a piece of shit like you?”

Sister?

“She’s a little more pacifist than all of us.”

You lie so naturally, it was like second-nature to you— as though it was your second, utterly ridiculous hobby next to scheming. To play the part of Antonne was excruciating enough, but it was enjoyable in a way. You haven’t seen the Prowler for about four years— last seeing him when you were twelve, when he worked for the Fisks until his abrupt resignation. Next thing you and the elite knew, the mercenary who once worked for the high-class was now a vigilante working against them.

No one particularly knew the reason why. You somewhat guessed what it was.

And when the both of you crashed past the danger zone, you knew that the situation was way beyond your grasps from this point on, and the best you could hope for was a perfect gamble.

The man grabs all that he could in his anger, from glass beakers to steel rods, he figures splashing you with whatever thing he could find can help in making you perish from his sights.

You fight back, without the usage of anything else except the blade, only until Aaron repeatedly smashes your head inside a closed-off frozen cage. The two of you fall right in, breaking some sort of container in the process.

“What the fuck?”

Like a flame, it sears your skin— causing you to panic and recklessly pat away at the tar-like substance enveloping you in its sticky embrace. Without even a shriek, it consumes your system entirely, sending you down on your knees.

And the next thing you know, everything else fades into black.

Aaron pulls away, in shock of the dark matter unveiling before him. Immediately, he places a hand over Miles’ eyes, ushering him away.

From afar, they could hear the police sirens coming.

“Let’s— let’s go.” Aaron hurriedly commands.

“Uncle Aaron.”

Miles exhaustively calls out to him.

“Uncle Aaron!”

As his mask unfolds, Miles squints as the sunlight seeping from the tall trees welcomes him, shielding his face with his hands while trudging across the stones to meet his Uncle’s steps. Aaron pauses for a moment, taking only one look back.

“Why’d you bring me there?” Miles directly starts. “I wasn’t strong enough to be there— who was that guy? How- How did you suddenly know about the location of the warehouse, how did— I don’t— I-I have school in three hours, I don’t get why you had to bring me along—“

“That girl you’re seeing,” Aaron intervenes without a waste of breath. “What’s her last name?”

Miles takes a step back, furrowing his brows.

“[L/n].”

Aaron nods. “… It’s the same as the file.”

“What?”

“Bring her to dinner.”

Now everything further confused him, what did you have to do with all of this?

“I-I can’t bring her to dinner yet— what do you mean part of the f— we haven’t even gone on a date yet!”

The date set for tomorrow. The trick-or-treating date Miles had always longed for. Aaron tosses his hand upward. “Just make it quick and let me meet her.” He commands in a rush, pacing his steps faster. “We’ve got to get moving before they find us.”

“But— I don’t get it. What does [Y/n] have to do with all of this?"

Aaron stops for a moment, looking up before heaving a long, jagged sigh.

“… I got a file last night. Sent by an anonymous number. Someone managed to take a picture of you and your girl earlier when you were walking her home.”

Hearing this, a bundle of worries begin to churn in Miles’ mind. This whole night enough was messy for him, and he couldn’t understand why things were getting so complicated. Like what Antonne said earlier, it was ingrained into his mind, Aren’t you supposed to be smart?

“Along with the pictures, I got sent a file. [Y/n] [L/n], is..” Aaron consequently looks into his nephew’s eyes, a sort of hesitation imbued in his system. “Somewhat connected to the Primos.”

Miles halts entirely, and over and over, like how he’s always asked for the last hour. “What?”

“I.. I’ll just tell you when we get home.”

It was many years ago, when your mother endowed this habit of sitting you down by her vanity just to comb your hair and fix you up like a doll.

At that time, you were a tiny little girl with tiny little legs that were unable to reach the floor, instead opting to dangle them with light kicks from your seat— thinking you were some kind of mermaid. During those times, you could only spot at least the whole of your head staring right back at you, but rather than yourself, you marveled at the sight of your mother and her clothes.

The colors she wore were patterned in dates. Mauve, pink, white, and sometimes vermilion in special occasions. Those were the days she used to pick out your clothes for you, and whenever you complained about the color being too bright or dull, your mother would claim that she'd know your colors the best.

As you got older, and when you started dressing for yourself, in the colors you liked, and in the sort of mauve and pink that suited you, you watched as your mother would stare at you from afar with an irate frown, and silently, you'd think to yourself.

Even in the way I rebel against you, you still see yourself in me, because when you look at me, you see only a mirror of your younger self grimacing in disgust. You'd come so far to convince yourself that you're at the height of your being, but your daughter and your child-self only sees mediocrity.

…

“Miss?”

A flurry of people. Lots of talking. You despised that.

“Miss, are you awake?”

“[Y/n], wake up this instant!”

And at your father’s instruction, your eyes peel open almost immediately. You’re greeted with the sight of the ceiling, and your skin covered in warmth. You look at yourself, finding bruises all over your arms, still wearing your white dress shirt and formal pants. Silently, you force yourself to sit up despite the ache you felt, wincing as you spot several faces surrounding you. There was your father, pacing back and forth, certainly distressed about something; Antonne, with his arms crossed, sitting by the edge of your bed; some physician, silently standing by the side with her hands clasped together; and Harry Osborn standing alongside her.

“What’s going on in here?” You haphazardly asked.

“You almost died.” Antonne stirs the silence. “The Warehouse was set on fire, and you were still inside.”

“The warehouse was set on fire!?” You jolt up, only now realizing the dirty looks from your father. “That’s impossible, how could—“

“There were traces of gasoline.” Emerging from the doors, your father approaches you with a sort of chagrin in his glare. “Since you failed to capture or at least slow down the perpetrators, that happened.”

“… You’re placing the blame on me?” You ask, hardly believing your ears.

“We’re not—“ Just as Harry’s about to speak, your father intervenes. “Yes, we are. Because of your incompetence, we lost millions worth of money in damages!”

“Sir, calm down.”

“Father, this is what I’ve been telling you about.” Antonne pinches the bridge of his nose. “She’s sixteen! How could she have possibly fought against a mercenary!?”

“I did better than you.” Poison spewed from your lips, losing all sort of rationality. “This has never happened before. Whenever there was something any of you asked me to do, I did my very best. How could I possibly perform my best when I lacked sleep and I was dependent on coffee!?”

“Your brother is right.”

Hearing that alone was a nightmare.

“Although you’re talented in upkeep and information, you’re too young to fight against an ex-assassin.”

You helplessly scramble off the bed. “Daddy, you’re being unfair.”

Daddy. It’s like you were a ten-year-old fighting for his attention once again. You looked at Antonne, and then your father, shifting in complacency. “I worked for three years, ceaselessly. Even if it meant giving up my weekends and studying so hard that it made my nose bleed. I got the job done, even if no one paid me or thanked me, I still did everything.”

“We’ve lost a lot of resources,” Harry begins. “And we’ve been brought back to square one because of the fire.”

Before Harry could even finish off his explanation, you lift a finger and point at him accusingly. “This is because one of your people decided to leak information—“ In between your rant, Antonne attempts to soothe you. “Had it not been for the fact that you decided to let untrusted people into the faction, we wouldn— stop it, Antonne— we wouldn’t be dealing with this sort of thing. Mother warned you about it, and you brushed off her every warning— STOP IT, ANTONNE!” You finally yelled out. Your brother ceases, lifting his hands off of you after he sees that you’re shaking.

What’s wrong with me?

Why am I being more emotional than usual?

The way the rage consumed you left you in dismay. At a short moment of epiphany, you run your hands across your face and, like a switch, all of your emotions reboot.

“I apologize. I spoke out of line.”

That line alone was chilling.

“I’m sorry, [Y/n].” The tender way Harry called out your name was unfathomable. “I know it’s upsetting that your job is being taken away from you, and you have every right to get upset. However, for your sake and your health, you can pass on these responsibilities to Montrell for now.”

“Montrell’s in London.” You add. “He can’t possibly take over—“

“He’s not in London.” Antonne confesses. You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. “What are you talking about?”

“… It was going to be a surprise but..”

Oh no.

“Oh,” You blankly state, your mind rioting. “I see.”

“It’s an unplanned decision, really,” Your father explains. “Montrell also has no idea that you’ve taken Antonne’s place in taking care of the hotel for the last three years. It’d be better for you, as well, to take a break.”

You wanted to scream, break down, curse at everyone.

“I’m sorry for being too harsh on you, [Y/n].” Harry eases, placing a hand over your shoulder. “However, you have to understand that it’s also for the best.”

“I understand.” Fuck you, and fuck all of you.

“We’ll leave you to rest for now.” Yeah, leave me the fuck alone before I melt the fuck down.

As they step out, all the tension in the room leave along with the squeak of their fine, leather dress shoes. You’re left with the silent physician, whose presence you’d completely forgotten despite the wildness of her dark curls. She shifts uncomfortably, parting her lips to speak, only to find that she didn’t know what to say.

“What is it?” You ask, lowering your voice so as to not intimidate. Prompting to break the silence in her place.

The woman blinks at you, somewhat relieved by your words.

“Can I be direct, Miss?” She sternly asks.

“It’ll be better off that way, frankly.”

She leans a little closer, tugging on the sleeve of your arm. “When you first got here, your body was riddled with cuts, bruises, and broken bones around— oh, can I touch you?”

You squirm. “I’m not a relic.”

“Sorry ‘bout that. Most of the rich people I’ve worked with were usually snobby douches who think their skin shed gold.” She subtly laughs, raising the fabric up higher. “Initially, I believed you were exactly that kind of rich kid, but after seeing what happened, you don’t seem like anything they say.”

You raise a brow. “.. Have we met each other before?”

She looked at you as though you’d just insulted her, her eyes about to pop off her thick-rimmed glasses.

“.. I work at Alchemax. I’m the head of the research team in the particle accelerator project— we’ve spoken many, many times before.”

“.. You’re not my physician?”

Her lips tighten into a line. “I take what I said back. You’re exactly like all those other rich kids.”

“W-well, I’m sorry.” You grumbled. “I work with a hundred different people almost every single day, my mind usually shuts down when I’m at work.”

“Well, your father did just drag me out of the line and forced me to fix you up since they didn’t want to risk calling for a doctor who doesn’t know that you’re parading as your brother.” She spoke so quickly, it made you rethink what she just said three times. “Anyways— I needed to tell you that under my observations, you’ve healed yourself in a supernaturally fast rate that it’s groundbreaking.”

“What?”

“Six hours ago, you had broken bones in here,” She points her fingers at your shoulder. “Here,” Followed by your thigh. “And here.” Then your calf. “But after seeing your little drama session with your father, you were able to move yourself without any sort of pain. Initially, I concluded that you must’ve had some very high pain tolerance, but I noticed that so many of your cuts and bruises have all been healed, and that,” Her fingers trace a line over your neck. “That was red as hell just moments ago. Now, it’s gone.”

Oh, the mark you got from Prowler Jr after he choked the hell out of you.

You liked calling him that. Prowler Jr— a smaller, rustier protégée of the Prowler you grew up with.

“.. I wonder why so.”

There was a wily grin on her face that unsettled you tremendously.

“Well, without your father looking, I ran a test on you.”

“You what?”

Without even a single second to lose, the woman takes out few samples from her bag, laying them all out before you with a couple of handwritten documents.

“Here.” She states so proudly.

You marveled at all that she’s written— unfortunately for you, her handwriting was so messily done that you couldn’t understand a single damn thing.

“… You could get sued for this, you know that?”

“Your father wouldn’t. Unlike his children, he can’t find a replacement for me.”

Your mouth hung in disbelief at what you just heard. Rather than acknowledging the insult, however, she plucks out a print of what you assumed were tiny splotches of black tar on a petri dish.

“What the hell is that?”

“I got that swabbed out of your mouth.”

“Oh fuck, I thought I’d dieted enough for the performance!”

“It’s not sweets, sweetheart.” She answered defeatedly, clearly full of your unsure-weaponized-incompetence. “It’s a mysterious symbiote that we’ve recently caught hold of four months ago, and during your fight with the Prowler, it forged itself into your system.” Her fingers trace down your arm, grasping the center of your wrist while grinning. “And it can make you do this.”

As she squeezes your hand, a black matter ejects from your palm. You jolt away, slapping her hand off as you curse.

“WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?”

“The symbiote.” She casually replies. “Isn’t it amazing?”

It retreats like a slimey being, pushing itself back into your skin as though it’d all been a mere hallucination.

“You mean to tell me there’s some alien slime living inside my body!?”

“Well, yes—“

“GET IT OUT OF ME!”

She winces at the loudness of your voice, moving back an inch away. “That’ll take a while for me to dissect. You have to come to my lab tomorrow if you want me to find a way to pull that away from you.”

“I can’t go tomorrow.” You had a date with Miles, and that alone was reasonable enough to miss anything and everything else. “I-I have practice for the fundraiser on Sunday, and I’m still the hostess, so I have to make sure that the preparations are seamless.”

“… I have a comment, but I’m not sure if you’ll like it since you probably hear it all the time.”

“What? That I’m just like my mother?”

She scrunches her nose. “I was going to say that you’re too young to be acting so old.” The woman turns away, beginning to pack up her things again. “You’re sixteen. You should be going out to parties, creating fake IDs, sneaking out to make out with your boyfriend— whatever other shit girls your age like to do.”

You try your hardest not to react at the last mention, since that was definitely what you just did a few hours before. You begin to rub your hands, the friction warming you up as your shoulders shrug.

“Well, as much as I want to do all that, I’ve got too much to do.”

“You won’t be sixteen forever, Miss.” She tosses the bag over her shoulder. “Take that from me. I’m forty-six, and I’ve went through a lot. I’d give everything to be your age again.”

As you watch her head for the door, you call out to her one last time.

“.. Call me [Y/n]. I don’t like it when people way older than me call me ‘miss’.”

She raised her brows. “Alright then, [Y/n].” Your name rolls off her tongue gently.

“How about you? What do I call you?”

With a hand over the knob, the woman beamed.

“.. I’m Olivia Octavius, but you can call me Liv.”

#miles morales #astv x you #42 miles morales #42 miles morales x reader #astv x reader #astv miles #astv #astv x y/n #miles morales x reader #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x female reader #earth 42 miles x you #earth 42 prowler #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x you #earth 42 miles x reader #miles 42 #earth 42 miles morales x reader #miles morales 1610 #prowler miles x reader #prowler miles #miles morales prowler #prowler x reader #atsv prowler #astv fanfic #spiderman astv

[maybankiara]

WHY'D YOU ONLY CALL ME WHEN YOU'RE HIGH

pairing: Rafe Cameron x Ex!Reader summary: Rafe keeps calling you even though you've broken up -- but he only calls you while high, yet you can't bring yourself to tell him no. word count: 3.3k additional: this deals heavily with rafe's addiction, so heavy mentions of that. angst with pining. naturally, title from the arctic monkeys song. masterlist 

The phone rings.

  Your hands scramble around the bed and the nightstand until they’re wrapped around the little brick and you answer, not looking at the caller ID beforehand.

  ‘Hello?’

  Your phone was on Do Not Disturb. Whoever’s calling, it’s important enough for you to pick up.

  There’s no answer, though. You repeat yourself because you can hear someone breathing on the other line, and that’s when you finally look at your screen – and your heart sinks to your stomach.

  ‘Rafe,’ you sigh. ‘What's going on?’

  ‘Hi,’ he says.

  ‘Are you high?’

  ‘That's not what I—I mean, yeah, maybe, but that’s not what I—Nevermind.’

  You sit up in your bed, rubbing your eyes. There’s no light and you debate turning on the one on your nightstand, but maybe this will be short, and you’ll go back to sleep soon.

  ‘You’re high,’ you say.

  ‘Yeah.’ He pauses and you hear him shuffling. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You know I don’t like it when you get like that.’

  He apologises again.

  You don’t know what to say. The clock says it’s nearly three in the morning on a Sunday, and you really ought to be sleeping. Hell, you haven’t even spoken to Rafe in weeks, if not a month – you know you shouldn’t be the one he’s on the phone to.

  But he is. And you haven’t hung up yet.

  You turn on your light, squinting in response. ‘Are you at a party?’

  ‘I left.’

  ‘Okay. Are you going home?’

  There’s hesitation before he says no, and another pause before he finally asks: ‘Can I stay over?’

  You sigh, again, and push the covers off of your bed. ‘No, Rafe. You’re not staying over. Especially not like this.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry. I wanted to see you.’

  The slippers come on with ease. You think about putting on your dressing gown, but something clicks in your head. ‘You’re outside my house, aren’t you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  You sigh for the third time and promise yourself to stop doing it, but it’s Rafe. He has a special effect on you, tiring most of all, nowadays.

  You tell him to wait a few minutes as you put the phone on your bed, but don’t hang up. He wouldn’t want you to. His breathing is still coming from the phone, but it seems calmer, and you wonder if he can hear you putting on a pair of joggers and a sweater that he left behind. It makes you wonder if the same memories are flashing through his mind, too.

  His car’s headlights are on and the engine is rumbling quietly. A dozen flashes of the times this happened before blend together – you blink them away.

  The passenger window is open, as it always is, and you lean through it. ‘Park up.’

  ‘I was thinking we could go for a drive.’

  ‘Nu-uh. Park up.’

  ‘At your parents’ house?’

  ‘I said what I said.’

  Rafe doesn’t say okay, but you see the resignation in his eyes. His hand moves the gearstick and you take a step back, watching as he rolls the car into the parking lot, next to your father’s car. He walks out and asks what’s happening with that, and you say you’ll deal with it in the morning.

  ‘What are we doing, then?’

  You turn in the spot, your feet taking to the journey as if you never stopped taking it. ‘I’m walking you home.’

  Rafe just gives a resigned, okay.

  For a while, you walk in silence. It’s a chilly night and you stuffed your hands in your pockets, twirling the keyring around your index finger. You only glance at Rafe, almost scared to look at him properly – who knows what you’ll see.

  You’ve seen him in enough states to make you apprehensive of it.

  It’s almost as if he feels it, because after five minutes of nothing, he says: ‘It’s not that bad, you know. It was an easy night.’

  ‘Taking it easy, huh. You do that now?’

  ‘I try.’

  This—right then—is when you really look at him for the first time. He walks under a streetlamp and it gives his skin a grey-ish, washed out appearance, and his hair lighter than you remember it. He’s slouching a little, instead of the prideful walk you’re used to, and his eyes are transfixed on you.

  ‘Shit, Rafe.’

  His head hangs low. ‘It’s been a – a rough time.’

  You know. Oh, you know.

  The urge to touch his arm is there, so you press the keys into your palm. You want to tell him to get out, for his own sake, but you just press the keys harder.

  He’s not your problem anymore. He never really was.

  ‘I miss you,’ he says.

  ‘Rafe—’

  ‘Just— Hear me out, okay?’

  ‘No,’ you say, continuing to walk even though he stopped. ‘I’m not doing this right now.’

  His arm catches yours and he spins you around, making you look at him face-on – and what you see is agony. ‘Please.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But you came out,’ he says. ‘You’re walking me home. For sure that—’

  ‘That means I care, sure.’ You take your arm out of his grip. You keep your voice low, even though you can feel yourself seething. ‘But because I’m human and you were literally at my door. Don’t read into it.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’m done with you, Rafe. I told you that.’

  You keep walking. Whether he follows, that’s his problem – even though you know he will. It’s not the first time this is happening, but you’d like it to be the last. You really would.

  (A part of you is convinced otherwise. You look at him and see pain on his face, the utter disdain you know is directed towards none but himself.

  He could’ve had you and he blew it, but you don’t want to think about it. About the sacrifices you made and the ones he couldn’t. About promises that were never kept.

  Rafe’s an addict. It hurts—you wish things were different—but the truth has red eyes and a red nose.

  It doesn’t mean you love him any less, and that’s the part that kills you.)

  You take him to his front door. He hasn’t said a word since, and every time you glanced over, his eyes were glued to his feet. You can feel the same reeking off of him and you replay your words, and maybe you’ve been a little bit harsh with him.

  ‘Rafe.’

  He looks at you and you see his face light up with hope, just enough to fool you—maybe things could be different—and you pull him into a hug.

  Rafe smells and feels the same as he always has, as you think of doing this with skin against skin, with his lips pressed to your neck, and it takes you a moment to remember that Rafe is gripping you because that’s never happening again.

  Because you ended it.

  ‘Y/N, just once—’

  ‘Rafe,’ you say, softly, and give his cheek a gentle kiss. ‘I’ve given you all the chances already.’

  You don’t say goodbye.

  You don’t wait to see him walking in.

  Because you know that until you’re out of sight, he’ll be looking at you.

—

For a month, nothing happens.

  Then it’s the middle of the day and you’re at brunch with your parents when your phone rings with his ID. You debate not answering—you wish it wasn’t something you’d even think about—but the guilt from the way you acted last time is what makes you pick up.

  ‘I need you.’

  ‘Rafe, what’s—’

  ‘I need you to pick me up,’ he says, sounding exasperated. ‘Y/N, please.’

  You look over at your parents and mouth that it’s an emergency, and they don’t question it.

  The address you’re given is about a ten minute drive. It’s near enough to not give you enough time to start to really panic, but not far enough for you to not hear what’s going on on the other end – Rafe throwing up.

  He asked to hang up. You said absolutely not.

  You pull up at a house in the Cut, a bit larger than you’d expected. You know what that means – a dealer’s house. Music is loud enough that you can hear it inside the car and it makes you wonder what’s happening. Rafe wasn’t much of a help in answering that question.

  He walks out in just a wifebeater and shorts. He’s stumbling, but he’s close enough to the car that you just lean over and push the passenger door open for him.

  ‘You look like shit,’ you say.

  Rafe holds a tissue to his nose—red one, at that—and gives you a look that tells you he knows. ‘Please take me home.’

  You don’t need to be told twice.

  His family is out of town and you know this because it’s the talk of the town, the Camerons away for the summer. All apart from Rafe. The house is quiet, because of it, and it feels odd that you don’t need to tiptoe your way around.

  There’s a first aid kit in the bathroom and you apply some cream to Rafe’s cuts and bruises, bandaging the knuckles. The vomiting has stopped and he’s had enough water to drench a desert, so now you’re just playing nurse.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘Barry showed up.’

  ‘Right.’

  Nothing more needs to be said. You can already see it. Drugs, Barry, probably staying up the whole night – it’s never a recipe for anything good.

  All patched up, Rafe thanks you. ‘For everything, you know.’

  You stand up and wipe your hands on your trousers. The mess has been cleaned and he’s looking good, and it’s time for you to go – which is what you say.

  Rafe takes hold of your hand. ‘Stay. Please.’

  ‘My family’s waiting for me.’

  ‘I know, I just– I don’t want to be alone.’

  ‘Call Topper. Or Kelce.’

  ‘Just stay for a little while,’ he pleads. ‘Just for a bit.’

  The despair in his voice makes you consider it. By now, your family would’ve left the restaurant and gone back home to relax. Nobody really needs you around – not as much as Rafe.

  You help him get into bed, turning your back to him as he strips to his underwear. You never venture underneath the covers, even though he offers.

  He apologises again. Your mind takes you to the cocky guy you met all those years ago, the guy who had you wrapped around his finger. The guy who ruled the world, if somebody asked you. The guy you fell in love with after years of friendship, the guy who became more than that.

  This is not him.

  ‘Why did you call me, Rafe?’

  ‘Because it’s you,’ he mutters, half-asleep, into the pillow.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He mumbles, again, sleep catching him fast, but you still understand it: ‘Because you’re the only one who makes me feel safe.’

  You end up staying for another hour or so. Rafe looks peaceful—his nose is scratched and there’s some dried blood right underneath it, with a tiny cut on the bridge of it and a black eye starting to form—but he doesn’t look stressed, or upset, or high.

  He just looks like Rafe.

  And that is precisely why you grab your phone and leave, before your past feelings come flooding back.

—

You think it’s done. You don’t see him, you don’t talk to him, you barely even hear about him. What you know is that the partying continues and the reputation worsens, but you tell yourself: he’s not my problem anymore.

  And then you remind yourself that he never really was – your problem or yours, in general.

  Which is precisely why you’re not expecting to be greeted with his face when you open your front door. His face—recently battered and bruised, but healed—stretched into a smile.

  ‘Can I come in?’

  ‘I… I don’t think that’s a good idea.’

  ‘Please,’ he says. ‘I just want to talk.’

  You look at his eyes and sure enough, they’re red, and sure enough, so is his nose.

  ‘You’re high.’

  He doesn’t deny it. He knows his apology wouldn’t mean anything, either.

  ‘I just want to talk.’

  Your family is away for the time being and you’ve got nothing better to do—or that’s what you tell yourself—so you step aside, let him in, and lock the door behind him.

  Rafe takes a seat in your living room while you get both of you a glass of water. He’s looking around as if he hasn’t seen the place before, and even comments on the interier change – your dad insisted on adding a fireplace. Yet as you sit down on the armchair next to him, you think about all the times you’ve fooled around in this very room, and remember that none of the furniture is sacred anymore.

  ‘Are you hungry?’

  He shakes his head. It’s probably a lie—you know his munchies—but you won’t push further.

  ‘I fucked up,’ he says. ‘With you. Everything I did – I shouldn’t have done it. I should’ve done it the right way, you know. I just didn’t…’

  ‘Didn’t know.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  You watch him for a moment. He’s squirming in his seat and despite the state he’s in, he’s handsome as ever. Chiseled jaw, high cheekbones, buzzed hair starting to grow out again. But his lip is trembling and you see him shaking, and you wonder how lon git is until the comedown hits.

  ‘You know that wouldn’t have changed anything,’ you tell him. ‘Chocolate?’

  ‘I—Yeah, sure.’

  You hand him some Ferrero Rocher your mother left behind. He devours it, and the second one as well, while you take your time with yours.

  ‘I don’t really want to talk about it, Rafe.’

  ‘About us.’

  ‘Call it whatever you like. It’s in the past. We’re not digging there.’

  The glass thuds as you put it down. You pat down your thighs and shift on the couch, growing antsier by the minute. Rafe doesn’t seem to be that bad today and it’s almost pissing you off – he’s sitting there all calm and collected while you’re scrambling whatever sense of self you’ve got left.

  ‘Is it because you’re scared?’

  Your head snaps to him. Your mouth hangs open—the audacity—but nothing comes out of it.

  Rafe’s lips are pressed into a tight line and his eyes bore into yours. ‘You’re scared to talk about it. To admit what happened. To admit what it meant.’

  ‘It meant nothing,’ you say. Cold shivers run down your body. ‘We were hooking up for a few months. Don’t read into it.’

  He looks like somebody slapped him. ‘Right. So it meant nothing.’

  ‘It didn’t.’

  ‘And that’s why you always answer when I call.’

  ‘Are you here to be a piece of shit, Rafe? Is that it?’

  You push yourself off the armchair and walk all the way to the other end of the room. The window against your back cools you down, and you get to look at Rafe.

  To look down on him.

  You’re expecting him to fire up, like you’re used to, but his face softens, instead. There’s sweat starting to form beads on his forehead and you know he must be going through a comedown, but he doesn’t show it.

  ‘I loved you, you know,’ he says. ‘Still do.’

  You press the back of your hand to your forehead, closing your eyes. The memories flood – from the first kiss to the last, from finding out he does light drugs in his spare time to rubbing his back as he pours his stomach out, from asking him to decide what they are to him saying you weren’t anything.

  Just a hookup.

  For nearly a year.

  ‘Don’t say that.’ You wrap your arms around your chest. ‘Don’t fucking say that. You got no right.’

  Rafe stands up, too, and he looks taller than you remember—or you’ve shrunk into yourself—and approaches, but stays within an arm’s length. ‘I made a mistake when I let you go. I can’t make it right, I know, but I want you to.’

  ‘Rafe, you don’t—I need some air.’

  He follows you to the balcony, overlooking your parents’ garden. You don’t bother turning on the light – you don’t really want him to see you.

  ‘I wanted to be with you,’ he says, ‘so fucking much. I was just a fool.’

  You leave it for a moment—see if there’s anything else to come out—then say: ‘I didn’t end it because you didn’t want to make it official.’

  ‘You didn’t?’

  ‘I thought you knew.’

  ‘I thought…’ Rafe sits on the chair that’s always there, the one your dad sits in every Sunday morning, and slumps down. ‘I was convinced.’

  You lean over the fence, pretending you’re not holding onto it because otherwise you’d crumble. ‘Do you remember what I said when I ended things?’

  He thinks about it. ‘That you can’t do this anymore.’

  ‘I meant drugs, Rafe.’ You look at him and for once, you let him see the vulnerability. ‘The hobbies. That’s what I couldn’t do anymore. Because I knew when it came down to that, you’d never choose me over it. I couldn’t watch you fuck up your life time and time again.’

  ‘Then why do you—’

  ‘Answer?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  You laugh. ‘Because I’m terrified, Rafe! I’m terrified that you’ll be dying somewhere, alone, because everyone’s left. Because that’s where you’re headed. And I want no part in it.’

  In the end, nothing is resolved. Rafe leaves with slumbed shoulder and shivers, and you close the door with shaky hands and tears pooling in your eyes. You watch him walk back to his car, knowing you should tell him not to drive—to stay—but knowing it’s about time you puts yourself first.

  You loved him, too. But there’s a line between loving someone and sacrificing yourself for them.

  Rafe drives away, and you let yourself become a sobbing mess on the floor.

—

He doesn’t call.

  Over the next year or so, you see him only in passing. There’s an odd mention here and there, from friends of friends, but Rafe is no longer a part of your life. There’s been times when people have brought up that part of your past, but you’ve shut it down quick enough that they’ve learned to stop.

  You did your best to erase Rafe from your story.

  Yet there he is – his sweatshirt still hangs in your closet, though you don’t wear it. The couch in your living room has a scratch from your nail when you were having sex on it. When someone knocks, the tiniest part of you rises up to hope it’s him, needing you again.

  When your friends ask, you tell them that it’s over. You made it clear.

  So when your phone rings and it’s his name on the screen, he tells you he’s sober. He’s been sober for a while. And all he wants to know is if there’s still a part of you that would like to meet the new him.

  To let him start over.

  And this time, you don’t say no.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks #obx #obx imagine #outer banks fanfiction #my fic

[angels-fantasy]

Top Secret Fiction Ch. 4

Farmers Market

Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Description: After meeting the one and only pro hero Dynamight on a dating app, you two begin to see each other. Because of the dangers that come with his hero work, you both promise to be completely honest with each other from the beginning; though you can't help but keep one big secret from him.

You write fan fiction, mostly about him.

Chapter Details: nothing crazy. another date, katsuki being sweet, reader uses their quirk

Word Count: 1.4k

previous chapter

It's been about two weeks since you went on your date with Bakugou and you haven't seen him since, unfortunately. But it was for good reason - his hero work.

Going into this, you knew he'd be extremely busy, but you didn't think he'd be this busy. But you could understand it. Though something you did appreciate was the fact that he did make time to talk to you on the phone and would let you know when he'd have to go hours without talking.

In these past two weeks you also thought about his serious talk with you, about honesty.

Guilt ate away at you every time you started writing or even thought about it, which made it harder to stay active on your writing account.

Your secret really wasn't that big of a deal, but it was still a secret. Fan fiction was also something that had a bad reputation among people who didn't read it, so who knows how Bakugou felt about it.

Your phone ringing broke you out of your thoughts.

Looking at the caller ID, you saw that it was Bakugou. Smiling, you answered it and said "Hi Bakugou!"

"Hey, you busy right now?" He asked.

You looked around your room, as if that'd give you an answer. "Uh no, why?"

"Good. Can you be ready in like - thirty minutes? I'm free for the rest of the day and I wanna hangout now that I actually have time."

How sweet.

"Yeah I'll be ready by then. Are we meeting somewhere?"

"No, I'm picking you up."

"'Kay, see you then. Bye!"

"Bye."

Hanging up, you squealed into your pillow and then looked at the time. It was only 3:00 pm, so you'd have to be ready by 3:30.

As you rushed to get ready you wondered where Bakugou was taking you. He didn't say you had to dress a certain way, so you went for a casual and comfortable outfit.

He didn't seem like the type to take you somewhere extravagant randomly, so you were sure it'd be somewhere that was pretty relaxed.

After getting ready you noticed you had a few minutes left to spare so you decided to go check on the plants you had around your home.

You had about three plants in your home, all of them ranging from different sizes and types. You didn't have many plants in your home because you already had many at your work place.

You attended to each of your plants needs after they had told you what it is they wanted. One wanted more sunlight, the other was thirsty, and one was just fine.

You looked at your phone to check if Bakugou had texted you, and luckily he did. He had sent a text saying he was outside waiting for you.

You smiled and slipped your shoes on, saying bye to Cheerios and your plants like you always did.

Sliding into the passenger seat you said, "Hey stranger. How've you been?"

He smiled lightly, "Sorry I haven't been able to see you. Work keeps me busy but I'm good, you?"

"I get it. I've been good too though. Has anything interesting happened at work?"

Bakugou brought a hand up to his jaw and stroked it while he thought. "Eh, nothing major. I did stop a bank robbery with Red Riot a few days ago though."

You gasped and turned to him, "A whole bank robbery? I feel like that's such a stereotypical situation... you know? Like, you just see it in movies all the time."

"I know, which is why people usually don't attempt to rob a whole bank" He laughed, "But clearly these guys were idiots."

You laughed at that. "I can't even imagine trying to rob a bank. I mean - where would you even start?

The two of you continued to talk on the way to your destination, which he actually told you about this time. He said that there was a farmers market happening nearby and he actually went there pretty often, so he thought he should invite you along with him which you thought was sweet.

When you arrived it was just as you expected and it seemed to be quite busy.

"Wow I can't believe I've never been here before! The decorations are so cute." You said in awe, once you both started walking around.

"You wanna go get food? There's this old dude that sells the best takoyaki at his stand." Bakugou said as you two walked through the crowd.

You nodded, "Yeah I'm down. Takoyaki sounds really good right now - oh and after can we stop at that stand?" You asked, pointing to a stand that was selling crocheted stuffed animals.

He nodded and then held out a hand, "So you don't get lost in the crowd."

Yeah right.

You smiled and grabbed his hand, letting him lead the way to the takoyaki stand. Once you got there you met the old man he mentioned and talked to him for a bit. You found out that he made the takoyaki himself and he'd been doing it for over thirty years!

When it came to paying, Bakugou kept insisting that he would pay for your food but you stood your ground and told him you were just fine paying for your own.

He grumbled about it for a while after but eventually got over it. You two then went over to the stand you mentioned earlier, and looked at the stuffed animals for sale.

"They're so cute! I think I'm gonna buy one." You said to Bakugou.

He hummed, "You should get that one." and pointed to a white jumbo bunny wearing pink overalls.

"You're so right." You said and placed your food down so you could grab the bunny and check for a price tag.

Your eyes widened at the price.

"This thing is sixty bucks!" You whispered to him.

"What? Lemme see." He said and grabbed the bunny from you to look at the tag. His eyebrows raised a bit at the price. "Tsk, I can make this shit myself."

"You crochet?" You asked.

"Sometimes..." He said and looked away.

You laughed and then grabbed the bunny back from him. "Well, I guess it's goodbye bunny. You're just too expensive." You said and sadly put the bunny back where it once was, making sure to grab your takoyaki.

"Wanna go sit under that tree?" You asked and pointed to a large tree with a bench underneath it.

Bakugou nodded and you began making your way over to the bench.

Once you got there you both continued to eat your food in a comfortable silence. Looking up at the tree, you used your quirk and listened.

"This tree has seen a lot of things." You smiled.

"Whaddya mean?" He asked around his food.

"My quirk. I just used it and listened to the tree. She said she's seen a lot of interesting things in this spot, good and bad." You said and listened some more, "Proposals are the most common."

Bakugou smiled, "The tree really said all that?"

"Yeah! Trees have such interesting stories because they've been around so long." You said excitedly.

He looked up at the tree, "I guess I never thought about it like that."

After some more talking and eating, Bakugou offered to throw away your trash for you, which you accepted. He told you to wait at the bench for him, so you did.

It was taking him a bit longer than you thought it would so you began to worry a bit. As you were biting your lip in thought, a touch on your shoulder made you jump.

"Didn't mean to scare ya."

You placed a hand on your chest, "Jeez! You walk so quietly I didn't hear anything."

Bakugou smirked, "Here, I got you something."

He handed you a large, brown paper bag and watched as you looked inside.

"The bunny!" You gasped and pulled it out of the bag. "But it was so expensive, why did you buy this?!"

He shrugged, "You wanted it, and I guess it's okay to look at."

You looked at the bunny intensely and rubbed its head.

"It's so cute... Thank you so much." You said.

"It's not problem, just make sure to name it after me." He joked.

You clicked your tongue and smacked him with the bunny.

...

You guys had ended up spending the rest of the day together, finally leaving the farmers market around 8:30 pm.

When Bakugou pulled up to your house, you hesitated before getting out.

"You good?" He asked.

"Yeah, um. Do you wanna come inside?" You asked quietly.

He smiled the widest you've ever seen him smile and said, "Yeah. Will your plants be okay with it?"

"Har har." You said while rolling your eyes and got out the car, leading him into your house.

authors note

sorry for the little cliff hanger :3

also, here's the bunny katsuki bought reader

taglist: @doumadono @54fangirl @andysdrafts @dagger-dragger @lovra974 @l4rsun1vrrse @emmab3mma @littlkittenfan @tatiquichi @cloudxluv @seonne @shonen-brainrot @the2ndl @gold24fish @cxp1d @rv19 @gina329

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#@angels-fantasy #fanfiction #fanfic #writers on tumblr #bakugou katsuki #my hero academia #bakugou x reader #topsecretfiction #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou x you