#okay shut the fuck up literally half of these long ass tags have nothing to do with my character shut up youre so annoying hgfjdsfhg

[ellieslittlewh0re]

Stripped - modern!ellie x stripper!reader

wk- 8k-ish (it’s worth it)

additional tags: loser!ellie, reader is slightly described (pale, red/light brown hair, literally picture Lana in tropico bc that’s what I used for reference, oral reader! receiving, fingering reader! receiving, gross ass m*en, mutual pinning, implied homophobia (nothing crazy), childhood friends to lovers??, drug! mention, alcohol! mention,college! ellie mentioned, fluff n smut <3

"Ugh- He's is such a fucking creep."

I mouth frustrations under my breath, taking a seat at the vanity in the back room of the club. I pull crinkled wads of money out of the strap of my thong, smoothing the bills as I counted.

"Who is?" A familiar voice asked me with genuine concern. Camilla, also known as Coco by the customers, was a veteran dancer, a motherly type that all the girls that worked here went to for advice.

"Grabby Gary."

She winced at the mention of his name and shook  her head.

"I don't know why they keep letting him in here. He's a fuckin' perv."

I nod in agreement, taking a deep breath before looking in the mirror. My eyes were red, and my body ached from the early hours of the morning. I applied for this job not because I wanted to, but because I figured it would be a good way to make money fast. My mother, being an alcoholic and her deadbeat boyfriend was a violent drunk.

"You got any plans this weekend, baby?"

I felt a boost of energy at her mention, perking my head up with a smile on my face.

"My best friend is coming tomorrow. She left for college a few months ago and I haven't seen her since. We talk everyday, but it's jus' not the same."

I lower my head, pain in my voice as I remember how fucking empty my life felt when she left me behind. I never told my friend this, not wanting to make her feel bad.. I was happy for her. She was smart and passionate, I mean, who was I to get in the way of her education?

"Does she know you dance?"

I suck air behind my teeth, scrunching up my face.

"...no."

I didn't want her to worry about me and I definitely didn't need her shit for it, but it still worried me.

"You work tomorrow, right? Bring her by, and we can feed her free drinks. It will be fine, now get your ass home and get some sleep. You did good today." Coco reassured me, patting the back of my shoulder before going back out to the stage.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I stir in my bed, the afternoon sun flooding my room, making it unbelievably warm due to the Texas summer heat. I fumble with the sheets, kicking them off my sticky skin. I skim my hand along the bed searching for my phone, peeking at the screen through tired eyes.

12:32 p.m.

I mentally groan before squinting at the missed text's notifications, rubbing my eyes to focus my blurry vision.

Ellie<3: Hey- I'm leaving now I'll be there around 1 Delivered 9:56 a.m.

"Shit."

I throw my body forward, scrambling to the bathroom and turning on the shower.

I search my drawers, pulling out whatever is clean. I trip over my feet as I tug on a pair of denim shorts when the vibration of my phone alerted me.

Ellie<3: I'm pulling in now

My heart started to race, excited, but also incredibly nervous. I quickly finish dressing my self, half-running half-speed walking to the front door.

"Okay-" I take a shaky breath, composing myself before turning the door handle.

"Took you long enough." Ellie said sarcastically, flashing me a smile. I could have cried right then, not realizing how much I've missed seeing her face that I lunged at her, wrapping my arms around her in an embrace.

"Damn- you missed me that much?" Ellie laughed, patting my back hesitantly.

I rest my head in the crook of her neck, breathing in her woodsy scent. I felt immediate comfort wash over me, a sense of safety and nostalgia.

I quickly pull back, realizing I definitely held the hug longer than we both anticipated.

I clear my throat, adverting her eyes.

"Uh- how was the drive?"

I encourage her inside and shut the door behind her.

"S' Fine. Nothing note-worthy-" she pauses in the hallway, glancing down at the battered couch.

"He's still here?"

She points to the man sleeping on the couch, stained white tank that was pushed up to his chest, exposing a bloated stomach.

I ignore the obvious disapproval in her voice, grabbing her wrist as I pulled her through the house to my room.

"How's your classes? Do you like them?" I ask her as I shut the door, making sure to lock it.

Dale, my mom's boyfriend was a real prick. Ellie and him have had their fair share of issues. One ending with Ellie punching him in the jaw after he called her a slur.

"Uh- yeah, yeah. They're good. Except for this one class- the teacher is a dick, but other than that, it's good."

She slid her backpack off her shoulder, tossing it to the floor before taking a seat on my bed.

I sit next to her, now feeling suddenly a lot more anxious in the quietness of my room.

"How are things here?" She lowers her head to me, concern raising in her voice.

"Oh- uh.. you know." I fake a laugh, looking down to my hands.

Ellie remained silent for a second, probably catching on that things here where in fact, not great.

"What's up with those?" She grabbed my hand, turning it over and observing the obnoxious set of acrylic nails.

I let out a more genuine laugh, her bewilderment written all over her face as she traced the edges of the nails.

"It's fr' my job. It's kinda a big thing there."

Her eyes break from my hands and look to my face.

"Waitressing requires talons?" Her eyebrows go up, child-like confusion on her features like if you tell a kid anything, they'd believe you.

"No! Oh my god- I quit the restaurant after you left."

She paused and leaned back, waiting for an explanation. I bit my lip before taking a deep breath, pausing before opening my mouth.

"I work at a club.. like a night club kinda place."

I held my breath as I examined her face, her eyes darting between mine.

"Doing what?"

Ellie's eyes narrowed, her mouth tightening into a straight line.

"It's not a big deal. I actually have a shift tonight and was hoping you'd come. You can drink for free."

My voice strained, desperate to get her on board for the sake of me needing her to understand my position.

Ellie nostrils flared through rapid breaths, stone facing me before looking away.

"So you're a stripper?" Ellie sighed deeply as she rubbed between her eyebrows.

"... yeah." 

Ellie leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, looking around the room before taking a deep breath.

"A stripper? You're barely 19!"

Her voice grows louder out of anger, clearly not approving of my choices.

"I know, I know... but I need to move out. I can't stand living here, Ellie! After you left shit just got more fucked." 

I flail my hands before tucking them back into my lap. I needed her to understand. I needed her to realize how desperate I was and that I didn't take this job just for the experience.

Ellie remind silent for a minute, taking in my explanation.

"I'm sorry- it's just.. I hate the idea of you dancing around naked."

"It's not like that... I mean I'm not completely naked."

I laugh in an attempt to lighten the mood. Ellie cracked a smile, but it didn't seem sincere.

"Will you come tonight? It would help knowing you were there." I ask her, dipping my head down.

Ellie pauses before answering, mentally analyzing how it would play out.

"Yeah I'll go.. but only to beat guys up if they look at you for too long." She said smugly, nudging her shoulder into mine.

"That's literally what I got hired for."

I roll my eyes, trying to down play the heat rising in my cheeks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I see you still drive that sad excuse for a car."

My eyes remained glued to the screen, taunting Ellie as we played an out-dated version of call of duty zombies on my PlayStation, killing time before I have to get ready.

"It's not sad! It's a Mustang." Her voice pitched, defending her prized possession.

"Yeah... a 2005 Mustang that almost killed you and drained your bank account." I roll my eyes, spamming buttons on the controller.

Amongst our bickering, we lose our concentration causing a horde of zombies to down us both.

The colors on the tv screen loses saturation and text on the screen read: game over you survived 12 rounds

"Aw man. This is totally your fault."

I open my mouth to argue Ellies claim when the door handle rattles, and aggressive banging followed.

"Why the hell is your door lock?! Who's in there with you?" A loud male voice creeped through the  hinges.

I stood up and walk towards the door, turning back to give Ellie a look of "please be cool" before slowly opening the door.

"The hell is all that noise fr?" Dale grumbled, looking rougher than usual. His eyes look behind me into my room, eyes going wide as he saw Ellie, who gave him a wave and a shit eating smile which definitely did not help the situation.

"What the fuck is she doin' here?"

I take a deep breath, putting myself in front of him to crate a barrier in case shit goes south.

"She's jus' staying for the weekend, okay? That's it."

His eyes bulged out of his head, veins becoming more prominent against his now red face.

"Bull fuckin' shit she is! This is MY house."

Dale yells, pouting a finger in no particular direction.

"The only thing you own is a spot on the sex offender registry." Ellie rebuttals. I'd admit it's a good burn, but holy fuck, this was the opposite of being chill.

"The fuck did she jus' say t' me?!"

Dale pushes himself past the door, shoving me out of the way as he v-lined for Ellie.

I grab Dale by the arm, using my body weight to hold him from getting closer to Ellie, who didn't seem affected, if anything, she looked amused.

"Dale- Dale please calm down... she didn't mean it, okay? Just please stop." I spoke calmly to him like I've done so many times in the past when he got this way.

Dale silenced his yelling, looking to me as he breathed heavily, blood shot eyes and a slight twitch in his eyebrow.

I put on a brave face, having done this repeatedly over the last 3 years that he and my mom have been dating.

"She will be gone tomorrow, okay? I'm sorry I should've told you... I can talk to Chris at the club and see what he has, okay?" I spoke sweetly to him even though it made me feel physically sick.

He didn't respond, eyes darting between me and Ellie, then back to be before he stomped out of the room.

"The hell did you say that for?" I huffed, rubbing my eye, and walked over to Ellie, plopping down next to her on the bed.

"Because I hate him." Ellie responded sternly, looking at me like I was dumb for asking such a question.

"No shit, but the least you can do is be in your best behavior, for my sake. I'm the one who has to live with him."

My words came out rushed, annoyed that she wasn't understanding how uncomfortable living in this house truly was.

The way my mom was black out drunk for days on end, how Dale would sneak around outside my room in an attempt to catch me undressing, not to mention the smashing bottles on the wall or the never ending psychological abuse Dale carried out.

"You're right. M' sorry. That was a dick move. I promise I'll be good."

Ellie held her hands up, one over her chest and the other in the air, signaling a sarcastic attempt to keep her promise.

I roll my eyes and bit my inner cheek to hide a smile. I missed her goofy self, the smug way she would tease to cheer me up.

"Okay, fine...you're forgiven'."

I flash a smile, looking at my phone to cheek the time.

"Shit- I gotta start gettin' ready. Do you have to get ready?" I stand, waking to my closest.

"Uh- I don't know, do I?" Ellie asked, sounding concerned that she had no idea how to dress for a strip club.

I look back at her, observing her outfit more closely. A checkered blue and white flannel with a simple white t-shirt underneath, dark washed denim jeans that hung tight to her legs paired with her signature high top converse that she couldn't live without. She looked good.. like really good. No matter what she wore, I always found myself admiring her, even when we were young. She was effortlessly cool to the point it was annoying to me.

"I-I think you're good. I mean, you're a customer. You can wear whatever, I guess."

I turn back around, shuffling through the designated spot in my closet that I lovingly refer to as "skin rash central". Sequins and feathers and other skimpy clothes that look like discarded scrapes from a Victoria secret factory.

"Ugh- don't call me that."

Ellie winces at the choice of words. Customer. She didn't want to be a customer at a strip club where her childhood best friend worked. It felt wrong like she was crossing an invisible line. Only ever dreaming about the possibility if that line were to break, disappear completely, and the term friends would be replaced with something else.

"Don't worry, you don't have to throw money at me... although I wouldn't be opposed to it-"

Ellie shifts uncomfortable in her seat, clearing her throat to hide the fact her cheeks began to burn hot from my comment.

"Im gonna' get ready... uh- make yourself comfortable." I said, motioning my arms in a way that was meant to be funny, but I realized how stupid I must have looked.

Ellie laughs anyway, nodding and shooing me out of the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Okay... lookin' good."

I turn around, observing myself in the spectacle mirror. A red lingerie set that I've worn a few times before, bows and ribbon that dangled across bare skin. Makeup is simple. Classic. Flawless skin with a wing liner, and big eyelashes that complimented the shape of my eyes. A few carefully placed fake beauty marks along my jaw and below my eye. I decided to keep my hair down, letting the length fall to the lower part of my back, loose, big curls that shaped my face and shoulders.

I take a few deep breaths, leaning my hands against the sink.

"You got this. It's just like very other night." I tell myself quietly in the mirror.

I throw on a jacket and sweatpants, not wanting to reveal myself to Ellie quite yet in case she loses her shit.

"Hey- sorry. I know I took forever. You ready?" I return to the room, glancing to my phone to check the time.

9:47 pm

When she didn't respond right away, I looked up to see why she wasn't responding. To my surprise she was already looking at me, more specifically my face.

"Ellie?" I snap my fingers at her, breaking her trance.

Ellie flinches, blinking her eyes a few times.

"Huh? Oh- yeah. I'm ready." Ellie clears her throat, wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans.

Her behavior confused me, she was nervous when I came back into the room. I figured it was because she was not use to seeing me all glammed up, considering she knew me when I was a little girl, playing in the mud, catching bugs and reptiles in the creek behind the house. 

"Can we take your car? Dale is gon' kill me if I take his truck again." I asked her, focusing on putting an extra pair of shoes in my duffel bag.

"Yeah, that's cool... uh where is the club located?"

I rushed to my vanity, spraying ungodly amounts of sweet smelling perfume along my body and clothes. Panic was starting to kick in. Anxious that this was defiantly not like every other shift. My best friend was going to be there, to watch me dance half-naked for other people's pleasure.

"Further into the city. Don't worry I'll tell you directions. Traffic might be kinda bad though so we need to leave." I finish putting on deodorant, slugging my bad over my shoulder, dragging Ellie along by her hand out of the house and down the driveway to her car.

"Do you want to play music?" Ellie asked, holding the aux cord.

I happily obliged, shuffling through playlists I made specifically for her. I find one that felt just right, clicking it and waiting for her recognize the beat.

"Oh shit! So it's that kinda night, huh?"

Ellie cranked the volume up, tapping the steering wheel with her hand and started to sing along.

I watch her with a warmness building in my heart. Seeing how happy she was listening to a song we have both heard hundreds of times.

It felt like we were teenagers again, driving around in this same car, having no destination in mind as we blasted borderline obnoxious tunes. Ellie was always older, not just physically but mentally.

I realized my feelings for her when I was 15, and she was 17 going on 18. I could never tell her it would just put her in an awkward situation and possibly ruin our friendship, and I definitely didn't want that.

"Turn left at this light and the club will be on the right side. You can't miss it, it has a bright ass pink neon sign out front."

I bit my lip, feeling insecure about the location of this place, not realizing before how fucking sketchy this part of town was.

Ellie turns the car into a parking spot, killing the engine and took a deep breath.

"You forgot to mention it was in east side."

"...sorry. It's not that bad, I promise."

I look down to my phone, checking the time.

"Oh good! We're kinda early. You can get a drink before I go on." I say a little too excitedly, my thought process being she can get shit faced while I worked, in case I make an ass of myself.

I exit the car, tossing my bag over my shoulder and start heading towards the doors. I stopped, realizing Ellie wasn't right behind me, I turn around.

"What's wrong?" I ask her with a puzzled look.

Ellie's face lit up a pink hue from the sign, her eyes fixated on the building.

"Wha- nothing... nothing. I'm comin'." Ellie words faltered, her head hanging low as she made her way to where I was.

I push open the blurred glass door and examine the crowd. It was fairly busy, considering it wasn't even midnight yet, which is when people started to flood in.

"Hey doll- you're early." Coco greeted me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I greeted her with a smile, genuinely happy to see her face.

"Yeah, I thought traffic would be bad-" a awkward silence formed between the three of us, Ellie looking at me and then down to the floor.

Coco sensed Ellie's lack of experience in a strip club, looking at her and holding a well manicured hand out.

"You must be the best friend. I'm Camilla. It's good to finally meet you. She talks about you all the time."

Ellie shook her hand, focusing heavy on her face to avoid looking at what little clothing she was wearing.

"Oh does she?" She let out a nervous laugh, breaking the hand shake and wedging herself behind me. I was humored by how Ellie was acting. Nervous and in full gay panic, being surrounded by a bunch of girls that were half-clothed.

"I'll leave you to it. Have a good night-" Coco kisses my cheek and then points to Ellie, who straightened her stance immediately like she was meeting the president.

"And you, take care of her tonight. She's good at what she does, but she's a magnet for trouble." Coco turns and disappears into the club, leaving the two of us standing awkwardly by the entrance.

I shake my head, covering my face with my hands out of embarrassment.

"Magnet for trouble?" Ellie repeats her words, a smug tone hinted in her voice as she teased me.

"Don't- just... don't. Now, c'mon let's go get a drink." I grab her wrist, pulling her though the club towards the bar.

"2 shots of tequila please."

I leaned over the bar, kicking my feet like a kid in a candy shop.

Fez, the bartender gave me a stern look, rolling his eyes.

"You can't drink yet, doll. We've been over this." He shook his finger at me, trying to sound serious, but he was a gentle giant, sweet and very easily manipulated.

"C'monnnn please. It's a special occasion."

I blink wide eyed at him, pouting my bottom lip.

Fez shook his head, taking a deep breath and pretended to think hard about it.

"Fine... but I swear this is the last time. No more." He turned, slapping two shot glasses down on the bar and filled them to the brim, letting some spill over onto the counter.

I scootch the glasses closer, holding one up for Ellie, which she takes hesitantly. Her one eyebrow raise, and a smirk on her face as she brings the shot to her lips, throwing her head back as she downs the liquor. I copy her motions, swallowing the liquid, feeling it burn my throat as it made it way down.

"Awh- ohmygod... that's foul." I choke out, scrunching my face and pushing the shit glass away.

Ellie was unfazed by the taste, not flinching  in the slightest.

"You're such a baby." She giggles, shaking me by my shoulder.

"Sorry I'm not a frat boy like you." I snark back, feeling pretty pleased with my remark.

Ellie rolls her eyes playfully to make me feel like I won that conversation.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, letting the screen light up.

"Shit- uh I need to get ready for my set. You can stay here and keep drinking- or if you get hungry, I can ask the guys in the back to make you something?" I ramble, covering all my bases to make Ellie as comfortable as possible.

"I'm fine! Just go do your thing." Ellie let's out a laugh, shooing me away. I give her one last worried look before turning away and walking through the club, maneuvering around people and squeezing between chairs and tables.

I get rid of my jacket and sweatpants, switching out my vans for platform heels. Red to match my outfit, straps that accentuate the top of my foot and up my ankle. I button the straps, flexing my foot to make sure it wasn't pinching the thin skin.

I sat at the vanity, the bright bulbs around the mirror gave me a headache. My nerves were spiraling.

I planned my dances tonight with Ellie in mind as a way to welcome her, to still embarrass her even if the two of us were the only ones who knew. "White mustang" by Lana del Rey was my first song, a little inside joke for both of us, that leaked into "summer bummer" purely because that song made me want to dance, not think too hard. Just dance.

"Fuck. Okay, you got this. Jus' go out there and dance. You've done it dozens of times. No biggie."  I voice words of encouragement to myself, wiping  smudged lipstick from the corner of my mouth.

I coax myself with deep breaths, going through the motions of trying to calm the uneasy feeling in my stomach.

"Doll, you're on."

I look at my co-worker, meeting her eyes through the reflection of the mirror. One last deep breath and I walk through the door, leaving the safety of the break/ hair and makeup room.

I walked slowly, carefully as possible to the stairs of the stage, scared I'd break an ankle in my uneasy footsteps. I kept my head low, scanning the crowd to look for Ellie. Lights strobing shades of pink and red, a haze building from the cigars that were being smoked.

My heels clunked the wood stage floor as I take position on the pole, holding it with one hand as I casually swung around it, waiting for my song to start. Yelling and whistling from the handful of men that gathered closest to the stage. I smile at them, waving playfully while still peeking looks in hopes I'd find my friend.

The first cords of the song started to play. I switch to my professional personality, becoming more serious and seductive. I parade myself around the pole, letting my legs fall wide as I leaned against. Dollar bills started to float onto the stage, hooting and hollering as I caressed my body. I engage with the men, bending over in front of them to show them something worth their time.

From the outside, I looked like I was doing my job and doing it well, but internally I was panicking. I couldn't find the one person I wanted to see, but at the same time, if she was watching and I couldn't see her, it was a new nightmare. Curious to know what her face looked like as she saw her once, innocent, childhood best friend.

Ellie waited as patiently as she could, finding a dark corner of the club where less people were. She sipped on a whiskey she ordered, leaned up against a wall.

A sudden burst of cheers and hollering caused Ellie to jerk her head in the direction where it was coming from. A women was walking into the stage, playfully hanging off the pole. The lights made it hard to make out at first, but upon seeing the light brown, almost copper tinted hair, Ellie's eyes widened, almost choking on her drink.

This was a side to her best friend she has never seen before, skin that Ellie's eyes have never been graced by before, at least not to this extent.

Sure, when they were younger they'd change in front of one another, but Ellie always turned away, scared that her friend would notice the changing hues of her cheeks.

Arms stretched outward towards her like a painting depicting a religious experience, and to be honest it felt like one to Ellie. These men begged for the touch of her hand, the words on her lips, but Ellie was the only one who knows what it was like.

The way she smiles so brightly, laughs so fully like she wanted the whole world to hear. How clumsy she truly was even though she danced so gracefully on the stage.

I prance in my heels all over the stage, trying not to make it obvious was trying to avoid the shining lights in my face to look for Ellie. I squint towards the back of the bar. Her familiar frame came into focus, leaning against a wall like she worked here as a bodyguard.

I wave at her, excited to finally have found her. Ellie does a double take before pointing to herself . I nod, not caring that this wasn't part of the routine as I usher her closer to the stage.

Ellie carefully comes closer, stopping a couple of feet behind the handful of men that surrounded the stage. I felt a burst of energy seeing her, knowing that she was still here.

I lower myself to my hands and knees, crawling forward to the men that clasped bills in their fingers. I lay in front of them, arching my back against the scuffed floor, letting money drape over my face.

Ellie held her breath as she watched, never looking away, hell not even blinking, scared she'd miss even a second of the show.

I get back into my knees, hovering above the paying customers as they place the bills in the straps of my thong and bra, letting it snap back only to be repeated. I diverted my attention away from my patrons to meet Ellie, her eyes heavily glued to me. I raise a finger, pointing it at her and curling it, signaling that I wanted her to come closer.

To my surprise she takes a few more steps forward, shimming between the men who gave her dirty glares in return, but she didn't care. Out of everyone here tonight, Ellie was the one who had all of your attention.

Ellie positions herself front and center of the stage. I crawl closer, leaving only a few inches between our faces.

🎶 the day I saw your white mustang-🎶

Ellie's realization of the song made her crack a smile. Even under the colored lights, I could tell she was blushing, cheeks red making her freckles more prominent. I felt my own cheeks cramp, a wide grin on my lips that I definitely couldn't hide.

I watch Ellie's hand disappear into her back pocket, pulling out crisp bills, and slowly, her hand moves to my chest, using her other hand to open the top of my bra as she inserts it gently, smoothing her finger over my cleavage before she retracts her touch.

"You suck-" I mouth to her, rolling my eyes playfully. My body jittery and my heart thumped loudly against my chest. Without much thought, I leaned down from the stage, planting a kiss to her cheek, which left a very prominent lipstick stain to her pale complexion.

My ears perk up to the changing of the song, feeling much more upbeat after our interaction, I jump up and blow Ellie a kiss, which she pretends to grab before she took a few steps back.

I carry on through my set, shaking my ass more energetically to match the vibe of the music. Dollar bills of various worths littered the stage.

Ellie watched from further away, her eyes loom in my direction as she babied her drink, not wanting to risk forgetting this night.

Ellie didn't try to hide how she bit down on her lip, eyes studying the movements of my hips or how I extended my neck to the side, leaving the exposed skin on display for her imagining how she wanted to mark it.

"So... whaddya think?" I ask out of breath from rushing off of the stage as soon as the song ended.

Ellie opens her mouth and closes it again as her face contorted, trying to figure out what to say that was both respectful, and didn't come off pervy.

"I see why that lady said you attract trouble."

I give her a confused look, tilting my head to the side.

"Huh?"

Ellie purses her lips before making a tsk tsk sound with her mouth.

"You were- unreal... it kinda scares me how incredible you were up there." Ellie looks away, rubbing her thumb over the back of her hand that held her drink.

I feel my face heat up, a giddy sensation building inside me.

"I mean I wouldn't go that far, but thank you Els. It means a lot comin' from you." I said sweetly, interlocking my fingers behind me as I rocked back in forth on my toes. I felt like I was in school all over again... like when you have a crush on someone that's way out of your league, but they talk to you anyways.

"Hey doll, Gerald wants a private dance." Camellia interrupts us, sounding slightly apologetic.

"Ugh- fine." I groan, rolling my eyes.

"I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere!" I yell back to ellie as I walked towards the champagne room.

Ellie didn't love the idea of you giving someone a lap dance. She wanted to hold you back, prevent you from walking away, but she didn't because after all, this was your job.... The idea of some old man grabbing you and fantasizing about how he would touch you made Ellie sick.

Ellie waited for your return as patiently as she could. Uneasiness was sinking in, causing her to sip from her glass at a faster pace. She felt a new sensation kicking in as she waited. Maybe it was a sense that she needed to protect you, keep you safe, but no, that wasn't it. It was jealousy. A possessive urge to keep you at arms length. It was a feeling that Ellie desperately tried detaching herself from for a number of years.

"Sorry! That took longer than it should've." I say to Ellie, stumbling back to her slightly out of breath.

"It's fine. When does your shift end?" Ellie's tone shifted. She sounded annoyed, frustrated even.

"Uh... soon." I answer weakly, uncertain why Ellie was acting different towards me.

Ellie didn't seem thrilled with my answer, looking down at her now empty glass and avoiding my face.

"If you want, I can see if I can leave early? It's slowin' down now. I don't think it should be a problem."

Ellie lifted her head, looking at me with wide eyes. Her face lit up at my suggestion, but quickly dwindled.

"You don't have to-"

"Hush. I want to. Plus, I want to spend as much time with as possible... jus' the two of us." I cut her off mid sentence. It was the truth. I didn't want to waste our only time together, not knowing when I'd see her again.

Ellie smiled, her eyes burn into mine causing me to want to lean into her, but she clears her throat when she realized how our gaze lingered.

"Let me go ask." I tell Ellie, resting a hand on her bicep before I turn to leave her again.

"Please! I'm literally beggin' you. Just this once- I won't ask again." I pleaded, holding my hands to my chest, interlocking my fingers in a prayer.

Warren. Aka boss man, looked me up and down, and took a deep breath before rubbing the meaty part between his eyebrows.

"Look- doll. You haven't been working here long enough to be making such requests."

"-and it won't happen again. I swear." I bat my eyelashes a few times in hopes he'd show me some mercy.

There was a few seconds of silence, Warren looked at me and then down to the papers strewn about his desk.

"Fine, but I expect good things from you from here on out. No more slacking."

"Thank you! I promise I will." I rushed over, planting a kiss on his cheek before running out of them room.

I strut over to Ellie, not giving her any time to react as I take her hand in mine and march us out of the building towards her car.

"I guess that's a yes?" Ellie asked, a smug tone hinted on her lips.

"Let's get the fuck out of here." I smile at her as I open the car door.

Ellie does the same, picking a song before she reverses out of the parking spot.

The neon glow of the club's sign was fading behind us as we drove away, windows rolled down to let the cooler breeze of the night swirl around us. This felt like everything I could ever need, ever want. I was happy with just this. The only person who ever looked out for me, who ever cared about me is by my side. I felt safe and loved by her, not really caring if she loved me the same way I loved her.

"I'm sorry I left you." Ellie breaks the silence, turning down the volume of the music so she wouldn't have to yell.

"What? No, don't be sorry. You grew up and so did I. There's nothin' to be sorry about." My voice grew weak as I spoke. It hurt to be reminded that she wasn't a permanent person in my life anymore.

Ellie didn't know what to say to that. She felt the hurt in your voice as you spoke and of how you shifted in your seat. Ellie glanced at you from time to time in her peripheral, taking note how you were still in your 'work' clothes. She quickly reframed herself from starring too hard from how little was being covered.

You turned away from Ellie in the car as you looked out the window, feeling a sense of dread that the night was coming to a close and Ellie would have to leave in the morning.

I felt the engine turn off, an ear piercing silence followed as we both made no effort to get out of the car.

"You ready?" Ellie asked, her voice quiet and gentle.

I nodded, opening the car door and walking up the driveway with Ellie close behind.

Reaching the door, I took out my keys, holding them up to the lock as I took a deep breath, praying that the house was quiet and everyone was asleep or simply just gone.

I creep open the door, listening for any movement and when it felt safe I motioned the coast was clear to Ellie. I shut the door behind us, taking off my heels to prevent the clunking sound on the tile floor.

"Thank-fucking-god." I sigh, falling back into bed, looking up at the plastered ceiling of my room.

"I can't wait to leave and never see this stupid ceiling again."

Ellie lowers herself onto the mattress beside me and looks up to where my eyes fixated before looking down at me.

"Me too." Ellie said absentmindedly, eyes lingering over the skin on your lower stomach and chest.

"Can you bring me with you? I can sleep in your closet or something... people have pets that they hide in there dorms, right?"

I laugh to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn't.

"Trust me. I wish I could." Ellie bit her lip. She couldn't hide how seeing you so close like this and so exposed made her feel. How your breasts pooled over your bra, how the skin between your legs looked so soft and malleable.

I sat up and looked to Ellie when I noticed how her demeanor had changed. Her eyes, usually a bright green where now much darker, more intimidating. My eyes drift to her lips, slightly swollen and glistened from her spit.

Fuck.

I divert my eyes from her face, feeling slightly uncomfortable by how much my body was reacting to her. My thighs squeezed together, my heart pounding and I couldn't stop thinking how much much I wanted to kiss her.

That's when I look at her arms.

Her fucking arms.

The sleeves of the flannel she wore were rolled up to below her elbows, exposing the tattoo on her forearm. The veins in her hand were prominent, trailing upward to her long fingers.

"Fuck-" My inner dialogue slipped, coming out as a whisper.

"I mean-" I try to cover my ass, praying my horny fucking brain to come up with anything, but it was too late.

Ellie leaned forward, putting her arms on either side of me, forcing me to lay back on the bed.

"Are you doing this on purpose?" She asked, tilting her head to the side as a smirk grew on her lips. Her voice sounded different. Low and sensual, unlike I've ever heard from her before.

My breath hitched just from her voice alone, the heat building in my core as she hovered over me.

"Wha- what do you mean?" I stutter, confused and at the same time feeling the effects of the atmosphere change in the room.

Ellie leaned closer, dipping her head so she was inches from my face.

"Still wearing this." Ellie raised her hand, bring her fingers to the strap of my bra and tugging on it.

"Maybe I am." I said barely above a whisper, grabbing her wrist and guided her hand to my stomach before moving it upwards to my chest, encouraging her to touch me.

Ellie's face changed from lust to genuine confusion, eyebrows furrowed and she studied my face.

"This isn't funny."

I shake my head weakly, squeezing her hand that was cupped around my breast.

"I'm not joking, Els. I want you to. Always have."

I bring her hand up and kiss the back of it, making deep eye contact as I leave wet, and sloppy kisses to her skin.

Ellie held her breath as she watched you underneath her, so beautiful and so eager for her touch. Ellie couldn't hold back anymore, all these years of repressing her feelings for you were coming to the surface.

I look up at Ellie, making slow circular motions with my hips as I imagined how Ellie's fingers would feel inside and that was her breaking point. Ellie pulled her hand away, forcing mine above my head as she leaned down and closed the empty space between us.

I moan into her mouth, feeling her lips on mine finally after all these years of only ever dreaming about this moment.

Ellie's lips move sloppily against mine, her tongue grazing over my teeth and exploring the spongy walls inside my mouth.

Ellie breaks away and looks at me, panting slightly from the passionate kiss.

"Are you sure?"

Her eyes were wide, and her brows turned upward. A puppy dog-like expression on Ellie's face caused me to smile, seeing how hard she was holding back just to make sure I was okay.

I simply nodded, reaching up and holding her face to bring her back down to reconnect our lips.

Her hands roamed by body, squeezing my breasts tenderly, but firmly. I did the same to the little amount of skin I could. Lacing my fingers around her forearm, sinking my nails into the flesh.

"Can you take this off? I wanna touch you." I pull away from her lips out of breath, tugging at the hem of her shirt.

Ellie wasted no time, sitting up on her knees and pulling the flannel off her arms, tossing it to the floor.

I gawk at the sight of her as she pulls her shirt over her head, discarding it to the side in one swift motion.

Ellie's stomach was flat and toned, defined ridges that outline her subtle abs that led downwards into a 'v' above the waistband of her jeans.

I bit my lip as I watched, taking in the sight of her.

I bring my hand up and grip the loop in her jeans, pulling her down to taste her again.

I let my fingers slip into her waistband, touching the uncharted territory. Ellie pulls away before I could feel her further, a hungry look in her eyes as her impatience grew.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was low and raspy like pop rocks, igniting your mouth with its rigid edges and leaving a sweet coating on your tongue.

"I wanna feel you." I whine, reaching up to palm her breasts over her sports bra. Ellie let out a muffled whine from the contact, shutting her eyes as she felt me drag a nail over her harden peak.

"You're drivin' me crazy. You know that?-" Ellie says, letting out a low chuckle before weighing out her options.

"Only if I can feel you." Ellie says, negotiating with me as her hand hovered down my stomach, giving me goosebumps as her fingers trickled down the skin.

I nod enthusiastically, gripping the sheets beside my head tighter as I felt her hand palm my pussy, rolling the heel of her hand against my clit.

"Fuu- you're this wet already? I bet I can slip right in.." Her hand continued to grind against the thin fabric.

My back arches under her, swirling my hips against her hand.

"Mm- El... please." I moan, looking up at her with a pained expression. 

"Please, what? Use your words, baby." Ellie said smugly, toying with me as she removed her hand, causing me to cry out from the lack of friction.

"T-touch me. I wan' you in-inside." I stutter over my words, my body wringing beneath her.

"Atta girl."

Ellie lowered herself once again, kissing me deeply, sucking my bottom lip before biting it between her teeth.

I feel Ellie's hand roam my body, tugging and gripping at various parts before she sipped her hand underneath my underwear. Her fingers skimmed along my folds, my slick coating her fingers before she circled around my clit.

My nails dig into the back of her shoulders, breaking the skin but not enough to make her bleed as she picked up the pace on my clit.

My lower stomach clenched and tensed, the heat pilling between my legs and I craved more.

"Ellie- empty.. I need you to fill-"

I was cut off by Ellie's fingers plunging into me over and over again as her fingers curled against my cervix with each thrust. Ellie paused, but only partially as she yanked down my underwear before fucking into me once more.

"FUuu mm-" I cry out, but it was muffled by Ellie's free hand covering my mouth, her fingers digging into my cheeks.

"Shh baby... you have to be quiet." Ellie growled into my ear before kissing the corner of my eye. Tears began to spill down my face from the force of her hand slamming against my cunt. 

I nod as she removed her hand from my mouth, letting it fall to my throat as she gently squeezed it.

I bit the back of my hand, sinking my teeth into the skin as I held back my moans.

"Good girl... such a good girl-" Ellie cooed, placing the occasional sweet and delicate kisses on my face, which didn't line up with what she was doing to my aching core.

Wet sloshes filled the room along with my muted whines from behind Ellie's lips.

I felt a bubbling sensation rising inside me, my mind becoming fuzzy and blank. I felt like I had no control over my body, my limbs becoming stiff  as my eyes roll to the back of my head.

"Els- I'm gonna-" I barely mutter, breaking away from her kiss as my head falls back, pressing deep into the mattress beneath me.

"Cum fr' me, baby girl." Ellie encouraged, her fingers slipping deeper into my cunt with each blow.

I squeeze her bicep, sinking my nails into the freckled skin. Occasional moans that I try hold back escape my lips, no thanks to Ellie. My jaw hung open as I lift my head to watch her fingers disappear then reappear inside me. I couldn't take it anymore, my head rolls back, my eyes shoot to the back of my brain as my stomach tenses, my hips rising with her fingers that continue to fuck into me as she rode out my climax.

I lay on the bed as my cunt continued to throb, taking deep and uneven breaths to try to calm the tingling sensation I felt all throughout my body.

The springs of the mattress creak as Ellie lays down next to me.

"You okay?" Ellie asked, sounding scared like a little kid that got caught stealing candy.

I roll my head over to look at her, her eyes wide and bright that how I always remembered them.

"Yes. I'm more than okay."

I turn my body to face hers, brining my fingers up to tuck a stand of hair behind her ear.

We lay there in silence for what feels like an eternity and I would I've been okay with that. Our hands danced over the skin of our faces, memorizing every curve and line.

"I don't want you to go." I said weakly, almost crying just thinking about her departure.

Ellie cupped my hand that rested on her cheek with her own, rubbing small circles with her thumb to the back of it.

"I know-"

I felt my eyes begin to well and I quickly try to blink them away, but it just made it worse. Tears fall down my cheek and my nose as I softly sobbed.

"Hey- shh.. shhh. It's okay." Ellie soothed me, pulling me into her. I bury my face into her chest as she held me. Her hand soothed over my head, patting it softly as she raked through my hair with her fingers.

I sniffle, pulling away to look at her again.

"I'll be okay. It's just- hard without you here."

Ellie's heart was breaking as she watched you crumble beside her. Your usual carefree and happy self was just a mask that you wore, a mask to make everything seem good and normal when that was the opposite of your life.

Ellie didn't want to leave you just as much as you didn't want her to leave. She couldn't stand the thought of not being able to take care of you, see you everyday and to have you within reach at all times.

Ellie took a shaky breath, unsure if what she was about to say was out of bounds.

"I've been looking at apartments off campus-"

My eyes lit up at Ellie words, confused at first, but equally as excited to know where this was going.

"And if... you want to come live with me in Houston-"

I pounce on top of Ellie, cutting her off before she could finish her sentence.

"Yes! Of fuckin' course I want to live with you!"

My voice became loud and high pitched from my excitement, planting kisses over her forehead and cheeks before I bring my lips to hers, kissing her harder and longer than I intended.

"Okay, okay.. easy there." Ellie laughed, pushing me away to catch her breath.

"I promise I'll get a job and I'll cook and clean-"

Ellie brought her finger to my lips, silencing my rambles.

"Don't worry about that shit, okay? I'm gonna take care of you." Her hand cupped my face, soothing her thumb over my temple.

I fall into her chest, holding her tight, and she did the same. Tears fell from my eyes, not out of sadness from her leaving, but from the happiness that every bad thing that I've ever gone through was going to be that of the past, and now I have something good to look forward to.

"Shit!" I throw my head up, leaving her chest.

Ellie tilted her head, eyebrows raised in confusion from my sudden movements.

"I didn't get to touch you."

Ellie laughed from the genuine disappointment in my voice, pulling me back down to kiss me.

"Don't worry. There will be plenty of time for that."

#ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams tlou #ellie Williams tlou2 #ellie williams the last of us #ellie x you #ellie x afab reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams x f!reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams #the last of us fanfiction #the last of us 2 #modern!ellie williams #Ellie x stripper!reader #Ellie Williams x stripper! reader #college!ellie williams #ellieslittlewh0re #Shelby🪷

[hella1975]

You are the only fucking one with normal opinions about arcane and I Wish you were there to see when everyone’s tiktoks were full of nothing about arcane and everyone being feral over silco and his nasty ass and Viktor who is. Fine. The best of the topsiders but still involved in an overall boring plot unless it was about himself and his disability which were the only interesting parts on the top end. Or Vi and Cait and I Don’t Like Cait very much. Like she’s Fine but god she’s fucking dumb sometimes and doesn’t know when to shut up and I don’t like her in the game either. I wish we saw more Ekko in the show tho.

How do we feel about the thought of Ekko and Jinx’s fight feeling like Zuko and Azulas. Second part could you imagine if they interlaced the Zuko and Azula scene with them play fighting as kids like arcane did? I wouldn’t have survived that actually. Or the parallels of Jinx and Vi to Vander and Silco and the siblings who care for each other despite despite despite. Also! So many people were mad at Vi for hitting Jinx but that whole scene was a very human response? She (accidentally) killed like their whole family? She just had a big fight? I’m sure her adrenaline is through the fucking roof and people forget she’s also a child at this point. She immediately regretted it and walked away to calm down and then got picked up before she could come back and help or fix things. Like obv that’s not the best thing she could do but I don’t think she was in the head space to gentle parent her sister. I have so much to say about this show and everybody else had such different opinions on the whole thing 😩

OMG OMG YES EXACTLY okay i have several things to say about like. all of this so im bulletpointing lmao

silco - WAIT WERE WE SUPPOSED TO LIKE SILCO??? WHAT??? like even in a 'villain who was justified' or even 'villain you can sympathise with if not justify' i just genuinely wholeheartedly dont like him. looking at an incredibly mentally ill girl and saying she's perfect is not a redemption. putting drugs into your own streets and getting your own people addicted to the point of being loyal to you is not a redemption. there is literally nothing good about his character. im pretty sure i put in the tags the first time i really saw him that basically his anger towards topside was 100% justified and even his desire to use extreme measures after so long being ignored, but you totally lose that the moment you turn on your own people. like okay mr manipulating class traitor of the year respectfully i was not upset when you died

viktor - i was soooo disappointed by viktor's character bc i genuinely REALLY wanted to like him like i was so intrigued by his disability and i love that he's a nerd and an underdog and can be abrasive at times and i thought there was SO much potential with him being from the undercity, but he was just so so passive and half the time i was just angry at him and shouting at the screen. like he's watching these toffs who dont know anything about the undercity - and havent even been there - discuss the future of people JUST LIKE HIM and he just allowed it. he only cared about his inventions and maybe that will be explored in season 2 bc it seems like they're taking a narrative where it shows his obsession to the point of detriment (what happened to that assistant that fancied him) and he'll possibly change for the better but as of right now he's just completely forgotten his roots and only remembered the undercity when it benefited his inventions. he went off with 'in the pursuit of great, we forgot to do good' though like i'll allow him that much that quote fucks stupendously

cait - same hat as viktor i REALLY wanted to like her bc it seems like we might actually be getting queer rep and i dont want to hate 50% of the couple but my god is she ignorant. and actually ignorance isn't the problem it's not a crime to be oblivious and it's not her fault she was born into a better life than vi, but it was her insensitivity with her ignorance that bugged me like girl just SHUT UP SOMETIMES MAYBE???? like it's very easy to look at a situation you haven't been in and go 'i would never have said that in a million years' but i can still safely say that if i was in the slums surrounded by victims of horrific addiction who have been turned on by even their own people and now live in the most extreme clutches of poverty, and i was there with a girl raised in this environment who only knows how to fight and has been beaten down again and again and has spent the past few years in prison, something im intimately aware of as the person who BROKE HER OUT, then i wouldnt go 'i think this is a good time to be accusatory about her homelife actually'. like literally what the fuck was the thought process. and it wasn't a one time thing she did it ALL the time i genuinely dont know how vi didn't hit her she's so lucky she's hot

zuko and azula - WHY WOULD YOU SAY THIS TO ME MY GODDDD like that tiny snippet of them playing in the palace garden as kids except it's an entire scene of parallels to them in the agni kai. despicable

vi hitting jinx - i actually laughed out loud when i read that people are apparently getting aggy about the fact vi hit jinx. i have to assume people making those takes dont have siblings. i have hit my sister for far less and can guarantee if she accidentally killed all my loved ones then she'd be getting an awful lot more than a slap to the face. siblings fight. it's literally a universally accepted fact. it's not FUN or GOOD but it still happens and 99% of the time it's over shit much less serious than what these two were fighting over. touch grass

#the worst physical fight me and my sister ever got in - and im talking on the floor beating the shit out of each other - #was because she wore my t-shirt #im not kidding like it was a very bad time for us so it had very much been Building #but i told her to take my shirt off and instead she went to leave the house so i grabbed the shirt by the hem to yank her back #and it ripped and i just fucking saw red and the next thing i know we're just fucking clobbering each other #over a T-SHIRT #so yes i think vi smacking jinx in the heat of heartbreak and rage and adrenaline and TERROR because jinx genuinely did something awful #is justified #ask #arcane #arcane spoilers

[fairyaali]

hello! I was wondering if I could request a kinda spicy kinda not spicy chat noir x reader fic? It can literally be about anything you want. Please and ty❤️❤️

AHHH I’M SORRY FOR THE LONG WAIT BUT I FINALLY WROTE IT !  Thank you for the submission anon! <333 i had a lot of fun writing it and i hope you enjoy it! 

Ship: Chat Noir x Reader 

Warnings! : SEMI-NSFW, all characters are aged up here!, swearing!

Tags: enemies to lovers?? ;))

“merde.”

That was the first word you hear that caused you to open your eyes. Your head was hurting and your whole body ached. You rubbed your eyes and sat up on the cold floor beneath you.

You saw Chat Noir sitting, slumped in front of you with his head resting back against the wall.

Great he was here too. You guys didn’t really get along, mostly because he tried to flirt with you on the first day he saw you and you didn’t want to put up with his shit because you knew he did that to every girl he saw. You both started growing pissy with each other since that day.                                                                                                       now you were stuck with him in this dark, humid room.

where were you guys? most importantly what happened that got you both here? you furrow your eyebrows as you try to recall what happened. All you can remember was Ladybug giving you the bat miraculous to fight along side them again. Then you went near the Louvre where the villain was and both you and Chat Noir made a run towards him. that’s all you could remember.

“You’re finally awake.” You hear him croak.

You snap out of your thoughts and look at him. His blond hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and his chest was moving up and down with every deep break he took. He looked hot. wait, what no he didn’t why are you thinking that? “what happened?” You ask him. You couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of him and your body felt warm. Too warm.

“the villain knocked us out with his power and Lady locked us up in this room until she changes everything back to normal.” He says and slides a note to you. You grab the note and begin to read it.

Hi guys. You were both hit by the villain and got knocked out. I had to put you both in this room and lock you in here until I change everything. Don’t worry Rena is here to help me. Whatever you do, don’t give in to certain thoughts and fight against urges. -Ladybug.

You furrow your eyebrows. fight against urges? What power did this villain have?

“I don’t know why she’s keeping us locked in here, I mean, I’m awake now so everything must be fine,right?” You say as you get up from the floor and walk to the door. You feel a hand grab yours and turn around to see Chat Noir in front of you. His cheeks were a deep crimson colour. “Not so fast, bat.” He whispers. “His power wasn’t just to knock us out.” He says.

You look down, your eyes fixated on his body. Your body starts burning you. why the fuck was it so hot in there?

“T-Then what is it?” You ask, looking up at him again and noticing how big his pupils have become.

“Hawkmoth gave him to power to make people uncontrollably aroused.” He states, looking down at your lips. oh.

This is what ladybug meant by fighting your urges.

You instantly pull back from him and scoff.

“as if, I’d ever be aroused at the sight of you.” You say and cross your arms over your chest, turning around and giving your back to him. You were lying, you knew that every time you looked at him you could feel your body burning and aching for his touch.

You gulp and sit back down where you were, trying your best not to look at him.

“Yeah because it’s not like you want to rip all my clothes off and suck me dry whenever you look at me, it’s just cause you hate me right?” He says, chuckling dryly.

You instantly feel your cheeks heat up at his words and your legs close together. fight the urge. fight the urge. fight the urge. that’s what you kept telling yourself but god you needed some type of release so bad.

“What is it now, Chat got your tongue?” You hear him whisper in your ear and your head instantly turns to face him.

How did he get there?

Your faces were inches apart. Your lips were both parted, your cheeks both red and your breathing increased with every passing second that you stared down at his pink lips. They were a deep shade of pink, mostly because he was biting them so much because of the frustration. You look down at his body again, the bulge in his suit was evident and it made you rub your thighs together even more. You knew he wanted it as bad as you.

But why him? You hoped that when Ladybug reverted the damage done by the villain, you wouldn’t remember this at all. But maybe the attraction to him was always there.

But you never wanted it this bad before in your life.

Fucking akuma.

Your body moves without you realizing and you end up straddling him, catching him off guard. His hands move to your thighs for support and you swear that it took everything you had in you to repress the moan you wanted to let out simply because he touched your body.

“Shut up, kitty.” You say, your noses touching and your hand running through his hair.

You felt vibrations emerging from his chest as he rolled his eyes back. He was purring.

Holy shit. You wanted to remember this moment just to be able to tease him afterwards. You couldn’t take it anymore. This stupid teasing. Ladybug’s voice started speaking in the back of your head.

Don’t give in to certain thoughts.

It’s your fault for locking us up In here together Ladybug so, fuck you.

You move closer to his face and lick his lips gently and slowly.

You feel his grip on your thighs tighten.

“Holy shit, we can’t do this.” He breathes out while you start kissing down his jaw.

“why not kitty?” you mumble against his skin.

“Because I don’t think I want to forget it.”

“Maybe we wont.” You whisper and look up at him with half lidded eyes.

And with that, he crashes his lips onto yours.

It was pure bliss.

Just what you needed. Just what your body was aching for.

Okay, maybe your body did want more but this was something that gave you that hint of satisfaction.

Your lips moved in sync and your hands wouldn’t stop running through his hair.

Your bodies started moving together, both eager to get any type of friction, any type of satisfaction. God you needed him so bad that it was painful.

The room was filled with lewd noises you made while you kissed and small grunts and moans that escaped your lips.

You wanted more and at this point you couldn’t think straight anymore.

A hand moved from his hair down to his shoulder. You gripped it a bit for support before making your way to the bell on his neck. You fiddled with his bell before you noticed something behind it. A zipper. Jackpot.

You felt his teeth bite your lower lip and you let out a soft whimper. You gripped the zipper and began to slowly pull it down.

You froze when you felt a gust of wind overcome you.

A surge of pain went through your head and you shut your eyes. you opened your eyes again and realized that you were on top of Chat Noir.

What the fuck? You fell on your ass and rubbed your head. “What the hell happened?” He asks scratching his head.

You were about to respond until you hear footsteps and the door unlocking to reveal Ladybug and Rena Rouge 

“Are you guys ok-“ She stops and looks at both of you, her eyes wide.

You furrow your eyebrows and look at Chat who has his hair disheveled and his lips red. Little red marks were peppered from his jaw, down to his neck and then it hit you like a truck.

Holy shit.

“Oh my god do you think they-?” Rena didn’t finish her sentence and started chuckling.

“we what?” Chat asked, confusion filling his voice.

Ladybug shook her head and laughed nervously. “Nothing, the villain knocked both of you guys out and we put you here for your safety.” She says and grabs the sticky note from the floor, crumbling it in her hand.

“You guys don’t remember anything right?” Rena asks, smirking.

Chat shakes his head and gets up.

But you did remember everything.

#chat noir x reader #chat noir #cat noir #mlb #miraculous ladybug

[cinnaminsvga]

Hug-o-gram | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font. 

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious. 

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

{or alternatively: Seokjin is a terrible wingman. He also runs a profitable business by sending hugs to people’s crushes for a fee. Mix them together and you have a recipe for Min Yoongi’s worst nightmare.}

→ genre: college!au, hugging booth!au, fluff, humor → warnings: yoongi is so smitten that he’s a walking disaster, so much shy!yoongi to the point where you’ll want to scream, seokjin just tryna get his homie some y/n love coochie bro ;o; → words: 13.3K → a/n: another commission by the lovely @jincherie​ because she’s epic like that!! she literally just told me to write whatever the hell i wanted and well... yoobie got me Good... anyway here’s more yoongi fluff bc apparently i’m a fluff writer now and sometimes i just want my boy to be happy... appa yip yip

Kim Seokjin makes a lot of good decisions. He also makes plenty of bad ones, but he likes to think the score is lying heavily towards the positives. Min Yoongi will be the first one to quickly disagree, but Seokjin doesn’t let it get to him. He doesn’t make it his business to listen to opinions that don’t immediately align with his, anyway; he likes to call it “selective hearing.” Yoongi calls it stupidity. Either way, the point still stands: Seokjin knows a good idea when he sees one. Case in point:

“This automatic popcorn machine is absolutely divine,” Seokjin moans, his mouth agape as he waits for the Mister Popcorn Robot to bestow him with another morsel of goodness.

“Yeah,” is Yoongi’s verbose reply. He also has his mouth agape, his prone body lying side by side with his roommate of four years in their small living room. Their roomba (another one of Seokjin’s good ideas) cleans all around them, its steady whirring serving as their only source of background music. “Lowkey though, I think our position isn’t quite… as optimized as it could be.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin asks, as he drapes his leg over Yoongi’s. His movement jostles the surrounding popcorn halo around them, as most of the food had missed their mouths by a couple of centimeters. At this point, the roomba has probably eaten more of the popcorn than the two of them combined.

“Nothing,” Yoongi shrugs, or whatever might be the lying down equivalent of a shrug. Some of the popcorn on his chest falls down, only to be quickly devoured by roomba-chi. Yoongi stares at the ceiling, tracing shapes out of the cracks that Seokjin had accidentally made when he tried using a pogo stick indoors. He points up, catching Seokjin’s attention. “Hey, hyung. Doesn’t that look a bit like Y/N?”

Seokjin squints. “You mean the mysterious brown stain near the lights? I think the toilet from the elderly couple upstairs might have leaked that.”

“No, you dipshit. The squiggly curve over there. It reminds me of her smile.” Yoongi says. There’s a stupid dopey grin on his face and Seokjin wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seokjin groans, turning over to envelop Yoongi in a sweaty half-armed hug. The buttery residue on his arms and stomach leaves something to be desired, but Yoongi doesn’t scoot away. He only continues to sigh dreamily, staring mindlessly at the image of you that only his lovelorn brain can imagine.

Seokjin slaps Yoongi in the face. “Dude, get a fucking grip,” he grouses, giving Yoongi a serious look. The younger doesn’t break out of his trance, further irritating him. “Will you stop pining in front of my popcorn? It’s seriously making roomba-chi lose her appetite!”

To his credit, roomba-chi did seem to be slowing down, though that could also be because it had overloaded with popcorn and was seconds away from exploding. Wouldn’t be the first time, but Seokjin always managed to find a way to save roomba-chi from imminent death. She was like a daughter to him.

“Hyung, you know I can’t. I just… God, I really like her, you know?”

“That’s the third time you said that within the last hour. Believe me, I know.” Seokjin groans, shoving Yoongi away. He sits up, reaching over to the popcorn machine and switching it off. He grabs a fistful of fallen popcorn from the ground and shoves it inside Yoongi’s mouth. “There. That should shut you up.”

“Aw weawwy wike hew, hwung.”

“And yet, you still haven’t done anything after four years,” Seokjin tuts, finally standing up. He stretches his limbs, his joints creaking youthfully. He grabs his phone from the coffee table, nearly dropping it from the butteriness of his fingers. The clock reads 4:32 PM, which means–

“Yoongi, it’s time for me to head to work. You want to come with me today?” Seokjin asks, though he knows what answer he’s going to get. You see, Seokjin’s new booming business is another one of his fantastic ideas, but it is a little... inventive. Sure, Yoongi had scoffed when he had originally suggested the idea, but Seokjin knew that it was going to be a money-maker. Sure, it had taken a few years for the business to really take off, but once it finally did…

Enter Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service! Students from his university are able to send anonymous payments directly to him, with little notes attached for their crushes. Each love letter delivery comes with a hug from Seokjin himself, delivered straight to the person without them ever knowing who the hug came from. It was ingenious! It was lucrative! But most of all…

It allowed Seokjin to cause drama and have an excuse for it! Nothing could have been more perfect for a man like him.

“No thanks,” Yoongi snorts, rolling over to face him. He watches from the floor as Seokjin changes into a butter-less shirt, which also happens to have his own face printed on the front and back. His trusty cardboard sign that reads “I’m Gonna Glomp Ya!” also joins his attire for the afternoon, a long piece of string tied to its edges so that he can wear it around his neck. Throwing on a pair of white sneakers with the tags still attached, Seokjin is ready to tackle today’s list of would-be hug-ees.

“How do I look?” Seokjin asks, combing his hair with his fingers. It leaves an oily sheen, which he somehow makes it work.

“Ugly,” Yoongi says, like a liar.

“It’s okay, I understand. I can speak tsundere, so you don’t need to explain,” Seokjin snickers, nearly getting hit with a TV remote by Yoongi. He opens his phone again, swiping to his e-mail to see his list of hug deliveries for the day.

Seokjin gets around 10 requests a day, with around half of them coming from regular clients. He’s especially fond of this boy who has been sending hugs to his TA named Namjoon for almost a month now. He has no idea why this kid has so much disposable income, though seeing the blush on Namjoon’s face everyday makes Seokjin think that he would spend every last penny for him too. Namjoon had begged Seokjin for his secret admirer’s identity, but snitchin’ isn’t a part of his service, unfortunately.

As much as Seokjin wants to know who is crushing on who, his little business wouldn’t work as well as it did if anonymity wasn’t included in his package deal. It allows people to thirst in public without facing the repercussions, like getting a knee to the groin or a slap to the face. Not that Seokjin has ever been at the receiving end of that; everyone loves him! Like, have you seen him? He must have saved a civilization in the past with how devastatingly beautiful his forehead is.

“Why am I suddenly filled with the relentless urge to deck you right now?” Yoongi says, getting up to change into clean clothes as well. His black t-shirt unfortunately does not have Seokjin’s face on it, but that can quickly be amended if the elder of the two decides to follow his every intrusive whim.

Seokjin laughs, completely unaware of the murderous capabilities of his friend. Due to his smaller body size, his percentage of evil is unusually concentrated. “Maybe it’s because you know that I’m into pain pla–” but Seokjin’s retort suddenly grinds to a halt. He chokes mid-sentence, coughing wildly as he pounds his chest with a balled-up fist. When Yoongi looks up at him, he finds his hyung staring slack-jawed at his phone, seemingly flabbergasted by what he finds on his screen.

“What’s the matter? Accidentally sent a dick pic to your prof again?” Yoongi snorts.

“That was one time! And no, it’s…” Seokjin trails off, uncharacteristically hesitant. He shifts his gaze from his phone to Yoongi, a drop of sweat quickly forming on the back of his neck. Yoongi raises a brow, silently urging him to continue.

Instead of replying, Seokjin hands him his phone. Yoongi finds a copy of one of Seokjin’s newest hug requests, only having just received it five minutes ago. As he scrolls down, he finds that this secret admirer is a new client, but that isn’t what made Seokjin stop in his tracks. Instead, it’s the recipient of the hug that catches his attention–

“Y/N has a secret admirer?” Yoongi says, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, trying his best to school his face into something less… jealous. He swivels away from Seokjin, forcing himself to breathe slowly through his nose. He convinces himself that he is the very epitome of calmness.

“You okay there, Yoongi? You look like you’re about to vomit,” Seokjin says, immediately breaking his inner peace. Yoongi groans loudly, shucking the phone over his shoulder, uncaring of where it lands. Seokjin, with his superhuman and God-given reflexes… doesn’t catch it. But he did dive to the floor like a seasoned Olympian, and his ass cushioned his phone so he supposes that’s a win.

Back to the matter at hand––

“I am fine,” Yoongi says, as he continues to not be fine.

From the floor, Seokjin shoots him a disbelieving look. He lies down more comfortably, propping his head on his elbows. Screw his hug-o-gram appointments for now; nothing brings him more joy than seeing Yoongi absolutely losing it. “Really? So you wouldn’t mind if I marched up to Y/N right now and give her the warmest, coziest, most tender hug of her fucking life?”

“Y… Yes,” Yoongi squeaks, neck glowing a furious red. He has his fists clenched (adorably) by his sides, head bowed as he faces the wall of their apartment. Seokjin’s brain makes the unhelpful comparison of Yoongi with that cat meme who says “no talk me angy” in Impact font.

Seokjin grins, his wickedness from within coiling and yearning to burst from his seams. This is it! Maybe if he pushes a little more, then maybe Yoongi will stop pining like a pathetic loser! Also, it didn’t hurt that he got to push Yoongi’s buttons while he’s at it, but hey! Not all heroes go to heaven or whatever.

He grabs his phone from his ass, scrolling back to the e-mail. “So… You wouldn’t mind if I walk up to Y/N right now and tell her ‘Hey! I’ve had an embarrassingly long crush on you and when I heard about this hugging service… I couldn’t miss the chance to shoot my shot! If you’re single and ready to #mingle, then please meet me at the Corner Cafe at 2 PM tomorrow.’” Seokjin sing-songs, snickering loudly when he sees the absolute pain etched onto Yoongi’s face.

There is a pause, and Seokjin waits as Yoongi uses his tiny kitty brain to think of what to do. He can only imagine what’s going inside his head, but he has a guess. Yoongi could either: 1) finally admit his feelings for you and come clean before Seokjin has to deliver your hug, or 2) do something stupid and counterproductive.

It comes as no surprise when Yoongi goes with option number––

“Hyung, let me come with you to work today,” Yoongi decides, walking over Seokjin’s prone body to their shoe rack. He slides into a pair of sneakers, his harried movements unusual for his customary lethargicness. He grabs a coat from its hanger, stomping his feet to get Seokjin to move faster. “C’mon! We have hugs to deliver.”

“Woah woah woah! Slow down there, Simpimus Prime.” Seokjin gets back up to his feet, skipping over to him. An absolutely feral grin is stretched upon his face. “Am I hearing what you’re saying? Are you offering… to deliver hugs with yours truly? Are you finally going to take up my offer to be an employee at Kim Seokjin’s Hug-o-gram Service?”

“Of course not,” Yoongi scoffs, but his shifting eyes betray him. He fidgets in place, refusing to return Seokjin’s eager gaze. “I just… wanted to go out for once. Yeah.”

“Yoongi.”

“What?”

“You haven’t left this apartment other than to go to class in over a month. You never go out. You’re an indoor cat!”

“I’m not a fucking cat,” Yoongi hisses, like a cat. “And of course I go out! There was that one time I went outside to pick up our food delivery last week.”

Judging from Seokjin’s unimpressed stare, Yoongi’s excuse doesn’t cut it. Yoongi flaps his arms around, defeated. “Okay, fine! I rarely go out! Screw me and the bounteous crapload of assignments I have due! It’s not my fault I don’t have the time to socialize and have fun. What do you want from me?”

What Seokjin wants is to push a confession out of Yoongi, not because he needs the confirmation, but mostly because he just wants to annoy Yoongi and say “I told you so!” He’s also pretty cute when he’s all blushy and tsundere whenever he talks about you. Should he film him and sell the footage on eboys.bb? He’s certain that goth boy over here would make a pretty penny.

“You like krabby patties, don’t you Squidward?”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Yoongi sniffs, nose upturned. He opens the door, not looking behind him to see Seokjin’s triumphant expression. “C’mon. Y/N’s last class of the day ends in a few minutes and we might catch her before she leaves the Science Building.”

Seokjin snorts. He is quick to slip his own coat on and he follows soon after. He locks their door shut, hopping over to Yoongi and matching his shorter-legged pace. “Yeah. Because you totally just know her schedule at the top of your head. You know, like a normal person.”

Yoongi ignores him. He trudges on, each step filled with determination as they make their way to Seokjin’s beat-up truck. Seokjin skips alongside him, observing the younger boy and placing bets inside his mind. The drive to campus isn’t that long as it only takes around 10 minutes to get there, but Seokjin guesses that Yoongi’s defenses will begin to chip away only 3 minutes into the drive.

He’ll start to realize the gravity of the situation, the cogs in his smooth and slushy excuse of a brain slowly comprehend what he’s about to witness. He’ll first think about how 1) he’s going to see you and that never helps his poor dainty grandpa heart and 2) he’s going to see you hugging Seokjin as he reads to you the short love confession from your anonymous Romeo. Seokjin bets that after 8 minutes, Yoongi will start to break out into a sweat, leaving gross perspiration marks on his good car seat leather.

After exactly 7 minutes and 34 seconds (Seokjin was keeping track of the time on his dashboard), Yoongi’s face turns an unflattering shade of green. “Dude. I don’t think this is a good idea.”

Yoongi had originally offered to drive the two of them to campus, but Seokjin had the good foresight to refuse. Had Yoongi been the one on the wheel, he would’ve brought them back home in an instant due to nerves. So instead, Seokjin speeds up, ignoring Yoongi’s soft whimpers of defeat.

“Too bad, but there is no turning back now. I have six deliveries today and I am not putting my livelihood on the line just because your balls have magically shrunk in size,” Seokjin snickers. He glances at Yoongi from the corner of his eye and feels the slightest touch of pity for the pathetic fool beside him. “But if it really makes you want to shit yourself from anxiety, we could save Y/N for last. Though, on second thought… That could also prolong your misery, which I will always be up for.”

“God, shut up,” Yoongi groans, slamming his head on the dashboard. Seokjin continues undeterred as he pulls into the campus parking lot, waiting for his friend to make up his damn mind for once in his life. He supposes that he is being a little harsh on Yoongi, but there are only so many sad love songs he can listen to without going completely insane.

Aren’t you tired of being nice? The demon on his shoulder cajoles, shoving the corpse of his angel counterpart somewhere down a ditch. Don’t you just want to go apeshit?

And who is Seokjin to deny his impulsive needs anyway?

“No, let’s… just get this over with,” Yoongi decides, head still smushed against his dashboard. He doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, not even when Seokjin shuts off the engine and makes a show of “leaving” Yoongi behind.

“Okay, lover boy. You have ten seconds to get your butt into high gear before I’m leaving you behind. And you should know that I’m not above playing dirty and giving Y/N the sweetest fucking hug of her life that will make her forget anyone else exists in this world, so you better start moving before I–”

Like lightning, Yoongi scrambles out of the car faster than if it had caught on fire (and Seokjin’s car has exploded before and Yoongi certainly did not seem as bothered to escape than he does right now.) He nearly trips over himself in his haste, getting caught by the car door and nearly receiving a concrete facial to boot. He straightens up with as much dignity as he can muster (which he doesn’t have very much of, if at all.) Seokjin is kind enough not to mention anything, but the shit-eating grin on his face is enough to make Yoongi bristle.

They exit the parking lot, looking to the world like the sun and moon had turned human for the day. Min Yoongi, with his all-black attire and gaunt appearance, is heavily juxtaposed with the man who appears to have been vomited on by a rainbow. They walk side-by-side together, accustomed to the stares that often come their way when they go out in public.

“I just can’t believe we’re doing this,” Yoongi moans for the umpteenth time, his movements stilted like a robot. His footsteps look heavily disjointed like his knees were beginning to rust. His arms swing like a pendulum, adding to the unnaturalness of his motions. Basically, he looks like a fucking idiot.

“Who are you calling an idiot?” Yoongi snaps. Seokjin startles a bit, realizing belatedly that he’d said that out loud. Not that he cares. Yoongi continues, “I’m not the one wearing a fucking cardboard sign that looks like a toddler made it with macaroni and glitter!”

“Hey, Taehyung told me it looked good,” Seokjin sniffs, fingering the macaroni pieces dejectedly. “I don’t need to hear an opinion from a Music major.”

“Shut up, Business major. No one likes you fucking snakes,” Yoongi retorts, crossing his arms. “Your definition of fun is going on LinkedIn and using Excel sheets.”

Distracted by their own quarrel, neither of them notice the sound of the large clock in the middle of campus that chimes every hour, signaling that it was already 5 PM. A few minutes later, hoards of students begin to leave university for the day, the walkways beginning to fill with people as they head home. Amidst the chattering and bustling of everyone trying to get out of the crowd, it is hard to notice that you are also one of the hundreds of people finishing your last class of the day.

But Yoongi notices, as he always does. Call it Y/N intuition, or whatever. “There,” Yoongi points you out over dozens of heads. Seokjin can hardly spot you, but he trusts Yoongi’s weird Y/N-dar to find you without fail. People have begun to notice the two of them, most of whom were whispering excitedly when they notice that Seokjin is in his work attire.

“Oh my god, someone’s getting a hug-o-gram! I wonder who…”

“Have you ever ordered one? I got one for my current girlfriend last month and that’s how we got together.”

“I’ve always wanted to send one, but the prices are insane! Fuck them business students and their capitalist ways.”

“Screw sending a hug to someone else! I wanna order a hug for me. Kim Seokjin is a hot piece of ass.”

(Yoongi swears the last comment had sounded eerily like Seokjin himself, but the older boy’s mouth hadn’t moved in the last minute.)

“Alright, Yoongi. Here’s the plan,” Seokjin leans closer to Yoongi, stage whispering into his ear. Everyone within a six-foot radius is eagerly eavesdropping, not even bothering to pretend that they aren’t. It’s common knowledge that Seokjin basks in their attention, anyway. Yoongi rolls his eyes, urging him to get it over with.

“Y/N is over there, right? Well, I have to send a hug to this guy named Mark Lee too, who just so happens to be over there,” Seokjin points behind them, in the opposite direction of where Y/N was heading, “so here’s my proposition. You go over to Y/N and deliver the hug for me, while I go catch up to Mark so that we can kill one bird with two stones!”

“Excuse me?” Yoongi wheezes, pushing Seokjin away from him. His eyes bug out. “Are you insane? I am not doing that. And the phrase is ‘killing two birds with one stone,’ you fucking idiot.”

“Same shit, Shakespeare! Who cares about numbers!” Seokjin exclaims, exasperated. “Listen, would you rather you hug Mark and I hug Y/N?”

“I would much rather prefer that I stick my whole fist up your anus,” Yoongi seethes.

“Interesting proposition, but maybe for a later time,” Seokjin says, not missing a beat. “Listen, dude. The longer we prolong this little bitchfest you have going on, the farther away Y/N is gonna get. You know I will stop at nothing to deliver her hug anyway, so would you rather you miss your chance right now when I am so magnanimously offering you a shot at getting closer to your crush?”

Even though Yoongi feels like his insides were slowly turning into mashed potatoes, he knows that he had already made a decision long before they left the house. Seokjin is right; this is a good opportunity for him, whether he is willing to admit it out loud. Perhaps it is just because it is Seokjin of all people who is egging him on that preprogrammed him into thinking that this was a bad idea. In all seriousness, it was just a hug, nothing fancy. It isn’t like Yoongi was going to have to kiss you––

(His heart contracts and Yoongi wonders if he’s having a stroke. The thought of your soft lips connecting with his is enough to cause the wind to knock out of his chest. God, Yoongi is so screwed.)

“Why must I always feel as though I am a snail and God is personally salting me,” Yoongi groans, stepping away from Seokjin and heading your way. Behind him, Seokjin hollers in what he assumes is friendly support, but it only further antagonizes Yoongi. The absolute buffoon waves enthusiastically from behind him, a beaming grin almost ready to split his face in two. Yoongi flips him off without looking back.

God fucking dammit. The closer that Yoongi is to approaching you, the stronger the urge to just evaporate like ice cream on hot concrete becomes. He can feel himself perspiring from every corner of his body and he just hopes that his black attire will do well to mask the slimy creature that he is underneath his clothing.

This is all Seokjin’s fault, Yoongi reminds himself. If he hadn’t started this stupid hugging service in the first place, then no one would have ordered a hug for you in the first place. Then Yoongi wouldn’t have to be in this stupid predicament either!

But you could’ve ordered a hug for her if you wanted to, says the annoying part of his brain – the same part that’s always been a little bit too hopeful for Yoongi’s liking. The whispers continue, And she wouldn’t even know it would be you! But more importantly…

“Seokjin wouldn’t know either,” Yoongi huffs irritably because he knows it’s true. The biggest thing stopping him from ever making a move on you, other than his debilitating fear of rejection and heartbreak, is the fact that he’d rather explode into spores than for Seokjin to find out that he’d used his “genius” business idea to get the girl of his dreams.

He’s afraid that one day, Seokjin would magically develop telepathic powers (a fear that Yoongi feels that the majority of the human population should also share) and find out that Yoongi doesn’t actually think his hug-o-gram service is dumb. It’s actually really cute, and Yoongi hates to admit that the success rate of his service is nearly perfect in terms of getting couples together.

But Yoongi is a strong (read: stubborn) man; he’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin the satisfaction of seeing his business work out for his seemingly hopeless case. Which brings him to the present–

You’re standing by the entrance of the Sciences building. You are dressed nicely as always; Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever seen you in anything remotely slobby, not even a pair of sweats like any regular uni student. You always look a little bit business proper: the epitome of someone who should be on the student council.

You’re speaking to someone, a younger male student by the looks of it. The hairs on Yoongi’s neck stand at attention and, God forbid, did he just fucking growl? Did he make that sound? By the looks of the students carefully navigating their way around him, Yoongi surmises that he did make that sound. Geez, is he some sort of animal? Is he going to turn into those feral stan accounts on Twitter that salivate over their K-pop boys like it’s their job? He hopes not.

But what if that’s the kid who sent the hug–

Yoongi shuts up his brain before he can let it finish. No, he can’t let himself go down that path. It’ll only cause him to self-combust right then and there, and he isn’t exactly keen on letting you see his entrails anytime soon. That would be the least cool thing to do, he decides. And so, with his brain turned off, he walks over to you, arms swinging robotically by his sides as he forces himself closer.

“Oh thank you so much, Y/N! You’ve been a real help to our club, you know?” The boy (Yoongi can’t believe they’re letting toddlers into university these days!) says, his eyes glittering with an ambition that still hasn’t been killed by the all-consuming dread that comes with university.

You laugh lightly, the sound causing butterflies to flutter excitedly in Yoongi’s chest. “No worries, Soobin. I’m glad I could be of help. If the editorial board needs any more help, don’t be shy to shoot me a message, alright?”

Soobin nods enthusiastically, his head bobbing up and down so quickly that Yoongi was afraid his neck would snap. “No worries, Y/N! Have a good rest of your week!” He waves a cheery goodbye, springing away with his numerous anime keychains on his backpack jingling softly in his wake.

“What a cute kid,” you sigh. You look incredibly fond, and Yoongi hates the bitter coil swimming in the pit of his stomach. That feeling soon fizzles out when you finally turn to face Yoongi. Your eyebrows shoot up, but your expression quickly morphs into one of pleasant surprise. Yoongi’s heart stops for just a moment, feet turning cold. “Yoongi! Oh my goodness, it’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen you! How’s it going?”

Let’s play a game, shall we? How many of Yoongi’s nervous ticks can you spot within the next five minutes? Think of this as the easiest game of Where’s Waldo ever!

“Hnng,” Yoongi stammers, his hand immediately going to scratch the back of his neck. His cheeks pinken, pupils shaking in every different direction as they try to focus on anything but you. It always feels like he’s standing way too close to the sun when he’s around you, hardly able to keep his gaze focused on you. He chooses to stare resolutely at your chin, but even your fucking chin was impossibly cute.

Seriously? Yoongi is a walking shitshow! His inner voice comes back, but this time it sounds uncannily like his roommate. Come on, buddy. Just say hi… You know, like a normal person. “H… Hey, Y/N.”

Success count: 1 point for the Yogurt Machine!

Even though Yoongi felt like he was living his worst nightmare, you still looked every bit like his favorite daydream. You are all smiles, seemingly unperturbed by Yoongi’s slow, embarrassing demise. “It’s so good to see you! Midterms haven’t been too hard on you, I hope?”

“I’ve been better,” he says. Better now that you’re here, he leaves unsaid. God, can you imagine if he said that out loud?

Your mouth drops open, soft cherry blossoms blooming across your cheeks. “Um, what did you say?” you squeak, embarrassed. But certainly not as embarrassed as the boy in front of you.

Yoongi stops breathing. He did not say that aloud, had he? Judging by the awkward silence stretching between the two of you, the signs are pointing to: yes. Ohmygodohmygodohmygodohmygo–– “Er, what I mean to say is,” Yoongi stutters through his sentence, his entire body flushing fire engine red like it’s nobody’s business. He must look like Satan’s spanked ass right now. “I… I’m here to deliver a hug!”

Confusion quickly replaces the shock on your face. You tilt your head, brows scrunching up cutely. “A hug?” you ask.

“R-right,” Yoongi says, waving his arms around because he has nothing else better to do. He gestures vaguely in the opposite direction, where Seokjin had left to find his other clients. “I’m, uhh… Helping my roommate. Have you heard of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram service?”

“Oh, yeah!” You hop excitedly in place, looking to all the world like the cutest thing in the universe. Yoongi thinks you should be classified as a public hazard, what with how you’re somehow able to give him diabetes just from standing next to him. “I totally heard about that! I’ve always wanted to send a hug, but I’ve always been a little shy.”

That piques Yoongi’s interest immediately. You wanted to send a hug? But to who? He unconsciously clenches his jaw, and he can feel a vein pop up near his neck. He forces himself to smile, but he knows it probably looks more like a grimace. “Oh really? That’s… I didn’t know you had a crush on somebody.”

Yoongi is too busy wallowing in his own self-pity puddle that he misses the way you gaze shyly up at him through your eyelashes, your hands clasped behind your back. “Y-yea… I don’t really go around telling it to just anybody,” you shrug as nonchalantly as you can. You clear your throat. “So, are you here to deliver a hug or something?”

Nothing gets past you, huh? Yoongi swallows thickly as he twiddles his thumbs. He still can’t bear to look at you head-on, afraid that his emotions would be too obvious if he did. (Who is he kidding… He knows he’s fucking obvious, and yet you never seem to get the picture!) “Yea, I am. I’m here to deliver one to you, actually.”

He doesn’t get to see your reaction, but he does notice the way your entire body stiffens. His mind immediately starts to run a minute, trying to guess why you’d suddenly gone stock still.

Did you know who your secret admirer was already? Or perhaps, were you just thoroughly shocked to receive one at all? That can’t be it… You’re the campus sweetheart! Surely it’s much weirder that it has taken eons for you to get your first hug… Or perhaps, are you so disgusted by the thought of him delivering the hug? Oh my god, what if you didn’t want him to hug you? Shit, this entire thing is a terrible idea! How did Seokjin ever convince him to do this stupid shit and get his heartbroken in the process? He swears he’s going to shove ten firecrackers up his ass the next time he sees him––

“Um, Yoongi?” You’re staring worriedly at him, your hand semi-raised as if you were about to wave in front of him. Did you say something? He must look like a fucking prick to you! He shakes his head, trying desperately to get his mind back into his body. Why must he be cursed with inner monologue disease? What is he, some sort of shoujo manga male protagonist?

“Sorry about that. I’ve been a little spacey these days,” he laughs, but even he can hear the panic laced in his voice. He sounds just on the edge of being hysterical. “Ahaha… What were you saying?”

“I was just… shocked?” You giggle softly, making Yoongi cry internally. You smirk, mischief glittering in your eyes. “I just never imagined you’d be the type to… I don’t know…”

“Willingly hug people for the sake of capitalism? I feel you,” Yoongi snorts, forgetting for a moment who he’s talking to. “Believe me, I’d rather drop dead than allow Seokjin to use me for his stupid business venture.”

“Then why are you delivering a hug to me now?” you ask, still smiling.

“Hnng,” Yoongi’s tongue feels like it’s grown two sizes all of a sudden. He wheezes, choking on his own spit as he’s caught off guard by your question. “W-well, I––”

“Just being a good friend, I’m guessing?” You’re full-on giggling now, barely trying to hide your mirth behind your hands. Yoongi understands now; you’re teasing him. He hates how amused you are by his awkwardness, but he loves the way your entire expression lights up, like you’re enjoying yourself by being with him.

“Let’s go with that,” Yoongi mumbles, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment. He has his head bowed, hoping that his unruly fringe can finally come in handy and hide the disastrous blush encompassing his face. “Right… I’ll just, umm…”

“Am I getting my hug today, or am I gonna have to take a rain check?” You laugh, slapping his shoulder in an attempt to help him shake off the awkward tension. It has the opposite intended effect, as Yoongi’s breath hitches imperceptibly at your proximity. You had taken a step closer, and Yoongi could smell the sweet perfume you always seemed to be wearing. Please don’t pop a boner right now. That would be super fucking creepy.

“You’re…” Yoongi hesitates, arms uselessly immobile by his sides. He doesn’t know if he can even get them to move at this point, as he has lost all motor skills the moment you had focused all your attention on him. It’s a miracle that his heart remembers to beat every so often. “I’m just… I’m just gonna go for it, okay?”

You nod, hands tucked neatly behind your back. “No need to be scared, Yoongi. I don’t bite,” you joke.

God, if you only knew about the dreams I’ve had of you. Yoongi hopes to all the deities from up above that he had not said that aloud, but you don’t seem to be disgusted, so he can only assume that his traitorous brain had disconnected with his mouth for the time being.

He shuffles closer to you, the warmth of your body closing in as he makes the grueling effort to lift his arms up to gently wrap themselves around you, but before he can even fully hug you––

You’re quick to reciprocate. With a small laugh, you wrap your own arms around his torso, nuzzling into his chest with more force than Yoongi was expecting. He lets out a soft wheeze, mouth dropping open when he is assaulted by the smell of your fruity shampoo. His hands hover awkwardly above you, still unsure of where it’s okay to touch you without weirding you out.

You tilt your face up, eyes crinkling cutely by the sheer force of your grin. Both of your faces are only centimeters away from each other, and Yoongi could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired. His breathing stills as he becomes positively mesmerized by the beautiful sight in front of him. He doesn’t even hear the sound of phone camera shutters around him, as he is much too deeply focused on nothing but you, you, you.

“Hey, don’t half-ass your hug! Gimme a good ol’ bear hug!” you whine, nudging his elbows gently to get them to move. Snapped out of his reverie, Yoongi mechanically does as you say, his head completely empty of thoughts. He wraps his arms tightly around your shoulders, his wrist knocking slightly against the back of your head until you’re back to snuggling deep into his chest.

“Your laundry detergent smells nice,” you say, slightly muffled by his shirt. Yoongi lets out a breathy laugh, mostly out of disbelief more than anything. He can’t even begin to process anything right now; he feels like he’s reverted back into a single-celled organism.

“Thanks?” Yoongi squeaks, but you don’t seem to mind his awkward attempts at being a Normal Person™️. You crane your neck upwards so that you’re looking him directly in the eye. There’s a twinkle of mischief there, like you’re enjoying Yoongi’s flushed face a little too much. He honestly feels like he’s seconds away from exploding into tiny bite-sized pieces, and he fears that if you snuggle deeper into his chest, he might just do exactly that.

“So… Are we just supposed to hug for another ten minutes, or am I allowed to let go?”

Yoongi doesn’t even realize how long it’s been. You could’ve been hugging him for ten hours and he wouldn’t have known. Yoongi jerks away from you, nearly vaulting himself across campus by how quickly he lets you go. Thankfully, you don’t appear offended––you were more amused than anything. Yoongi has no idea how red he is right now; he feels like he could be blowing steam out of his ears, astounding anatomists everywhere by his peculiar talent.

“I just have to–” Yoongi pats his back pockets for his phone, clumsily pulling it out and looking for his text messages, “–read this message from your, um, secret admirer and then we’ll be good to go.”

“Great.” You nod at him enthusiastically. “Whenever you’re ready, Yoonie.”

Yoongi’s breath hitches right then, caught off guard by the nickname. Only you ever called him that, and it never fails to make Yoongi’s insides feel like molten lava every time you say it. “I… Yeah, here goes,” Yoongi mutters, trying his best to remember how to speak.

He recites the message with as much enthusiasm as he can manage, which is to say, not very much. He could probably read the phonebook with more zeal, but it’s hard to give it his all when the words feel like acid in his throat. He’s unconsciously clenching his jaw as he speaks, looking like a constipated gorilla. “...so, if you’re single and ready to #mingle, then––” Yoongi stops mid-sentence, staring resolutely at his phone screen with a grimace.

You blink confusedly. “Then?”

“Then nothing,” Yoongi finishes, pocketing his phone without an inch of remorse. “I don’t know what was up with that message, but somehow the letter got cut short. Sorry about that.”

“Huh, strange.” You shrug your shoulders, not bothering to question him.

Yoongi fist bumps himself mentally, though other people might disagree and say that he doesn’t deserve any type of congratulations, to which Yoongi says a big “fuck you!” to those imaginary haters. In the wise words of Kim Seokjin himself, “not everyone is worthy to receive your fucks, so it’s time to stop giving them.” (Kim, 2020)

“Well, that was fun! Thanks for delivering the hug to me, Yoonie,” you pinch Yoongi’s cheek, giggling when they turn even redder. “I’ll see you around, I guess? Don’t let those midterms kill ya!” You wave cheerily at him, walking past him and heading towards the bus stops. Yoongi stands frozen in place, the events of the last few minutes finally catching up to him and frying his brain beyond repair.

Oh my god, he fucking hugged you! Like, a good and genuine hug! You felt so warm and so soft and you smelled really good and it was more than he could ever imagine and just––

Yoongi’s brain is trying (and failing) to desperately parse the delayed barrage of information as it comes, but it’s hard for the little hamster running circles in his head when it has never had to run a day in its life. Yoongi’s body feels like it’s overheating even though the weather is nearing the start of winter, but that’s all thanks to you and the devastating effect you have on him.

In short, Yoongi machine has broken, and any sort of maintenance is going to be hard to come by at the moment.

Yoongi could have been standing in front of the Science building for an entire year and he wouldn’t have budged until a tornado in the form of Kim Seokjin arrived to knock him out of his brain dead state. Whistling lowly, the elder stops in front of the rigid mass of meat, an eyebrow quirked in exasperation. “Dude, nice rigor mortis cosplay. Like, yes girl, give us nothing!” he exclaims, slapping Yoongi back to consciousness.

Yoongi blinks rapidly, dazed like he’s woken up from a dream. “What? What’s happening?” he replies dumbly.

Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Yoongi. Did you finish delivering Y/N’s hug or what? I finished all my deliveries in the same time you had with Y/N, so I better hope to God you aren’t planning on applying to be an employee of mine, because you certainly have a long way to go before––”

“I hugged her,” Yoongi interrupts, eyes going glassy once more. His mouth is agape, and Seokjin can see a pool of saliva forming, ready to runneth over. He could see the rusted gears turning inside his dongsaeng’s head. “Oh my god, hyung. I fucking hugged her.”

“Yeah, and I hugged Taehyung Kim and felt his gigantic dick press into my stomach. You aren’t special,” Seokjin snorts, clasping Yoongi by the bicep. He drags him away, leading them to their parked car. “C’mon, Dampé. I’m tired and I wanna eat popcorn again.”

As they walk back to the parking lot, the campus roads are a lot less populated now that most students have gone home. Yoongi only then realizes how late it truly is and he vaguely wonders how long he had been stuck standing there before Seokjin had come to drag him back home. The sun has begun its daily descent, filling the courtyard with a warm glow and causing their shadows to grow longer as they trudge quietly to their car.

The campus is quiet enough that both of them hear the quiet buzz of Seokjin’s phone, despite him putting it on silent mode before he had gone on his hugging deliveries. He stops mid-step, causing Yoongi to bump his nose into his wide back. He yelps, shoving Seokjin forward in irritation.

“Why’d you fucking stop, you asshole?” Yoongi whines, his normal annoying personality resurfacing now that he’s begun to recover from your hug. He peers over Seokjin’s behemoth shoulders, squinting at his phone screen. “What? Another hug delivery?”

“Yeah. I’ll do it tomorrow since I think she’s gone home for the day,” Seokjin says, his tone sounding slightly too delighted for comfort. “In fact, I know she’s gone home already.”

Yoongi stills, changing his focus onto the elder’s expression. He looks… too eager to receive a simple hug-o-gram request. A shiver shoots through Yoongi’s spine when he realizes how nefariously bastardous Seokjin’s smile has grown, the tips of his smirk curling upwards like a villain from a classic Disney animation.

“What?” Yoongi glares acidly at Seokjin, but the elder is unaffected. In fact, he seems to grow more pleased the more aggravated Yoongi becomes. “Spit it out! What’s got your prostate tickled?”

“Oh, nothing,” Seokjin singsongs, shoving his phone down the front of his pants, exactly where he knows Yoongi would never touch. “Just got an interesting new regular customer, is all.”

“A new regular?” Yoongi’s pitch heightens, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling in alarm (like a cat.) “Is it… Another request for… You know who?”

“I wasn’t aware Voldemort went to our university,” Seokjin teases, thoroughly enjoying Yoongi’s distress. “Though, if you’re talking about Y/N, then the answer is not not not no.”

“Two double negatives.” Anyone could hear the audible soft rattling of his two brain cells exerting themselves as Yoongi deciphers his answer. “That means…”

Yoongi stares pointedly at Seokjin’s crotch, where the outline of his phone is glaringly obvious. “Show me,” Yoongi growls, not making a move to actually touch Seokjin’s nether regions.

Seokjin shrugs his shoulders. “No one’s stopping you from taking my phone though?”

“Hyung!”

“Buy me bubble tea first, then we’ll talk.”

“Fine,” Yoongi acquiesces, folding his arms in annoyance. “Just tell me. Is it really the same guy who requested the hug for Y/N today as well?”

Seokjin fiddles around for his phone, digging deeper when it nearly drops down the leg of his pants. When he pulls it out and swipes to his e-mails, he confirms Yoongi’s fear. “Yep. And it seems like he saw you deliver the hug today. Says that he’d prefer that I deliver the hug next time,” Seokjin smirks, enjoying the deep-set frown on Yoongi’s face.

When Seokjin takes a closer look at the order, however, he notices something a little off. “Hold on a sec,” he scrolls to the receipt, scowling when he sees the incorrect amount. “Well, you might be in luck, Yoongi-chi. Looks like loverboy sent the wrong payment. He’s a few dollars short.”

“What?” Yoongi says, for what feels like the tenth time in this entire fic. He grabs Seokjin’s phone, no longer repulsed by where it had been only a few minutes prior. Like Seokjin said, the customer had given the wrong amount, much to both their confusion.

“That’s weird, considering he just ordered a hug today,” Seokjin murmurs, shaking his head. “Oh well. Happens to the best of us. Guess I’ll just have to refund the poor sap.”

“Wait,” Yoongi presses the phone to his chest, preventing Seokjin from taking it. His hyung raises a brow.

“What is it?”

“What if I just… pay you the remaining amount? Then I can also deliver the hug to her and, uhh...” Yoongi mumbles the remaining part, but Seokjin has trained his ears to catch every whisper and mutter for moments just like this. He wouldn’t be where he is today if he didn’t perfect his eavesdropping skills to a spy’s degree. That’s right––Seokjin is a sloppy and nosey bitch and he’s not afraid to admit it!

“Oh? Do my ears deceive me?” Seokjin guffaws, pinching Yoongi’s cheeks for good measure. He hisses in response, but Seokjin isn’t afraid of some little kitten. Seokjin is a bigger bitch with a meaner bite. “Is my little Yoongi Woongi seriously offering to deliver another hug to Miss Y/N? How magnanimous of you.”

Yoongi stares at him, stunned for a moment. A few seconds pass before he shakes his head, faux disdain coloring his expression. “That’s right,” Yoongi huffs, detaching himself from Seokjin’s meaty claws. He keeps his gaze averted, like the big stupid tsundere that he is. “I’m doing this out of the goodness of my heart! I care about your profits, and I want to make your workload a little lighter! Isn’t that what you want?”

“Sure, let’s go with that,” Seokjin snickers, poking Yoongi in the tit. He swivels away, skipping merrily away to their parked car. “I’m expecting that cash in my Paypal by the time I get to the car, or else the deal is off. Make it snappy, loverboy!”

Yoongi had never transferred cash to someone so quickly in his life.

(Yes, not even when the food court on campus was doing a BOGO promo for churros. That’s the extent of how whipped his ass is, period.)

x x x x x

“This is probably the dumbest idea you’ve ever had,” Yoongi hisses, but it’s kind of hard for Seokjin to take him seriously when he’s wearing a cardboard sign around his neck that says ‘Huggie Wuggie Machine!’ in bubble font.

“Like, even worse than when we DIY’d your car into a convertible by sawing the top off?” Seokjin asks, genuinely curious.

“Worse,” Yoongi admits, trying his best to stay out of your line of sight. His cheeks redden, matching the gaudy pink kitten ears he was forced into wearing.

“Listen, I’m seriously not forcing you to do this,” Seokjin starts, even though he’s giving his utmost effort to further embarrass Yoongi by handing out flyers about Hug-o-gram’s newest employee. “Please, take one!” he cajoles, offering a flyer to a gaggle of giggling freshmen. “Make sure to reserve a hug within the week! Yoongi-chi over here is on his way to becoming employee of the month if he gets ten requests by Friday!” They all point and whisper at Yoongi, and he swears he hears one of them wolf whistle in admiration.

“That’s what makes this entire thing terrible. I’m doing this on my own volition, and I absolutely abhor myself for it,” Yoongi moans, grabbing Seokjin’s stack of flyers and smacking himself in the head with them. It probably would’ve hurt more when Seokjin still had a full-stack, but people had swarmed them the moment they entered the heart of the campus, everyone curious to see Yoongi in his interesting attire.

Seokjin might have been famous for creating the Hug-o-gram Service, but Yoongi was famous for hating the business idea, so it’s easy to understand why everyone was interested. (For good reason, he thinks darkly to himself.)

“Damn, Yoongi-chi. Looks like you’re trending on the campus Reddit page,” Seokjin laughs, wheezing even harder when Yoongi points him with a murderous glare. “What? Like you said, this was all your idea.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t ask to wear… whatever this is!” Yoongi whines, tugging on the string around his neck. The cardboard sign had been ready and prepared the moment they arrived home the other day, arousing Yoongi’s suspicions on Seokjin’s actual involvement in his current predicament. Those suspicions are put in the backburner for now, however, as Yoongi actually feels like he might die of embarrassment instead of the packets of MSG coursing through his veins from the ten ramen packs he ate this morning. Maybe both will kill him, if he’s lucky.

“Well, I would love to lend you my uniform, but I haven’t gotten a t-shirt printed with your face on it yet, so you’ll have to deal with the kitten ears and cardboard sign for now,” Seokjin says, patting him on the back. “Or, would you rather I have you wear a shirt with my face on it? I’m open to suggestions.”

“I’d rather swallow a Tide pod, thanks,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth. “C’mon, let’s move. We’ve been standing in the middle of campus like street clowns for long enough. We need to find Y/N because her class is about to end.”

“Street clowns, huh? I guess you are only missing the make-up to complete the look, especially since you seem adamant to keep honking your way through that sickening crush of yours.” Seokjin nearly catches a punch to the head, but his superior reaction time saves him from Yoongi’s sorely lacking physicality. He snatches Yoongi by the hand, dragging them towards your lecture hall. “C’mon, clown! Let’s honk this bread!”

As the two of them get closer to where you are, Yoongi’s heartbeat begins to accelerate. He wonders idly if he should see a doctor after all this, hoping that he hadn’t actually contracted heart disease due to all this stress. Lord forbid that he meet his end before he even gets to ask you out or something!

Even though he’s already hugged you once (and it was, by far, the most euphoric experience of his sad, miserable life), he still finds himself getting clammy hands at the thought of seeing you again. Nevermind the fact that he looked like a walking circus with his get-up… No, Yoongi refuses to think about it anymore, lest his last remaining brain wrinkle irreversibly smoothens.

The campus clock rings loudly, signaling the end of another block of classes. Students rush out of the buildings, with you being one of the first ones out for a change. When Yoongi spots your head of hair among the crowd, he doesn’t immediately notice what you’re wearing at first. In fact, it’s Seokjin who stops in his tracks for a moment, surprised by how you look.

“Woah, Y/N! Looking good,” Seokjin greets, rushing past Yoongi to envelop you in a hug. (A platonic hug, Yoongi reminds himself. Because unlike Yoongi, Seokjin is a normal human being who can give hugs to anyone he wants because he’s… fucking Seokjin! Lucky bastard that he is.)

“Woah!” You laugh, surprised by the sudden hug. You pat him on the back giddily, allowing him to swing you around a little. “What’s this all about? Am I getting a hug-o-gram again?”

“Yes, you are. But not from me,” Seokjin detaches himself from you, scooting away to point at Yoongi. When Seokjin moves away, Yoongi finally understands why his hyung had said you looked good. No, that was an understatement––you looked [redacted].

(For the sake of the author’s fragile ash-coated heart, she has chosen to redact Yoongi’s exact words to protect herself from slamming her head against a keyboard from how cheesy this fic is becoming. Let’s just say the word starts with a B and ends with an L. Make of that as you will.)

You must have come out of an interview or presentation of sorts because you were dressed more nicely than you usually do, which is a pretty big deal considering how put together you always looked. Your hair is styled nicely, obviously given much more care and effort than your regular appearance. You’re wearing a cute little black dress, long enough to be professional but short enough to give Yoongi breathing problems.

If Yoongi’s brain had a playlist, it would be nothing but the sound of him going HNNNNNNNNNG on repeat.

“Oh geez.” Yoongi curses lowly, smiling through the pain. This is fine, he thinks, even though it is clearly not fine. Yoongi has always been a terrible liar.

“Yoongi?” You sound incredulous, though that’s honestly a win in Yoongi’s book considering everything. You didn’t look disgusted, so that’s great. “You look…” You stop yourself, covering your mouth to hide your grin but your amusement is palpable. At least he made you laugh, he supposes.

“Like a fucking idiot? You said it,” Yoongi snorts, arms crossed defiantly. He’s trying to look intimidating, but with his cheeks puffed up and these abominable kitten ears on his head, he looks more like a grumpy cat throwing a tantrum. He juts a thumb at Seokjin, “Thank this himbo for the outfit. I definitely would have chosen something more… inconspicuous.”

“But where’s the fun in that?” You quip, still trying to mask your giggles. On the other hand, Seokjin was wheezing like a hyena, his phone pulled out and presumably filming Yoongi to add to his cringe compilation.

“Exactly what I said!” Seokjin says through his laughter, tears of mirth streaming down his face. He walks back to Yoongi, pushing him forward until he’s face to face with you. “Go on, then! We haven’t got all day!”

“I’m assuming you’re officially part of Seokjin’s hug-o-gram business now?” you ask, opening your arms wide to accept his hug. Like the beta male that he is, Yoongi has to be the one to follow in your footsteps, meekly coming closer to wrap you in an embrace.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Yoongi mutters, tucking his chin onto your shoulder. He feels you vibrate with laughter, bringing a small smile on his own face. He likes making you laugh, always has.

With the cardboard sign serving as a barrier between the two of you, he isn’t as fearful of you feeling the erratic beat of his heart, though it wouldn’t be hard to guess if you looked at him. He closes his eyes, allowing himself to enjoy your hug rather than just panic through the entire ordeal like yesterday.

Soon enough, you’re detaching yourself from him, still standing close. Your arm is just a hair’s breadth away, and if not for Seokjin enthusiastically videotaping this entire experience, Yoongi might have closed in for another hug if he could manage.

“It’s always nice to get a hug from someone you like, huh?” You say, cheeks tinted a rosy color. The true meaning of your words flies over Yoongi’s head, as his feeble mind chooses to focus on your comment a little differently.

“I––Of course I like you! We’re friends, aren’t we?” Yoongi laughs nervously, unaware that he’s slowly digging himself into a ditch. To the side, Seokjin audibly slaps a hand to his face, body shivering with secondhand embarrassment from being blasted by the full force of how idiotic his friend actually is.

Yoongi sees you deflate a little, further confusing him. “Yeah, you’re right I guess…” You sigh, taking a step backward dejectedly. Yoongi flounders a little, unsure how he managed to fuck up in just a few seconds when you had just hugged him like your life depended on it.

Choosing now to interfere before the going gets rough, Seokjin steps in between and slings an arm around both of you. Yoongi groans under the weight of his arm, glaring when he notices that Seokjin had done it on purpose, but only to him. You don’t look too bothered by his rude gesture, albeit you were more befuddled than before.

“Hey, Y/N! I don’t know if you’ve ever ordered a hug-o-gram before, but I’m doing a special this week! Now that Yoongi-chi has so kindly joined the team,” Seokjin gives him a pointed look, to which the black-haired music major sticks his tongue out petulantly, “we’re doing a little promotion for first-time customers! Would you be interested in ordering one?”

Your eyes widen, looking like a deer caught in headlights. “M-me? Ordering a hug-o-gram? Well, I…” you hesitate, sending a small glance at Yoongi before looking away in embarrassment. “I would like to, but I don’t know if it’ll be well received, you see…”

Seokjin grumbles, silently cursing the stupid shithead who caused his own demise in the first place. The worst part is that he had no idea that he totally just friendzoned you! YOU! Someone who was literally leagues ahead of him. He sincerely has no idea what you see in this bumbling idiot, but everyone with a brain knows that you have been crushing on him for as long as he’s been crushing on you, so perhaps you’re a little bit of an idiot yourself for liking him back.

Being friends with the two of you makes him feel like he’s constantly wearing a sloppy wet diaper, and he hates it. He wants to wipe his ass as soon as possible!

Seokjin shoves Yoongi away roughly, ignoring his indignant squawks as he pulls you aside. He takes you by the hand, taking you a few steps away from Yoongi, far enough that he can whisper into your ear without the other boy hearing.

Yoongi fumes from the sidelines, trying to keep his emotions in check even though he’s bursting at the seams with jealousy. Not for the first time, Yoongi irritably realizes that he does act like a cat, especially in moments like this. He might make fun of Seokjin for being an attention whore, but Yoongi is the same, if only at a smaller scale. He just wants you to look at him, as selfish as that sounds.

Can someone give him a break? He’s been holding in his crush for four years now… Imagine having to take a massive shit after drinking two gallons of milk while being lactose intolerant, except every time you line up for the washroom, the line gets increasingly long no matter how long you wait. That is the extent of his suffering, he tells himself. So please, excuse his dramatics for this one instance.

(Seokjin’s Note: This fucking jackass is SO stupid. If he only knew how easy it is to ask you out, he would know that his emotional constipation could be solved if he just fucking ASKED where the next washroom is. He could have relieved himself ages ago, but NO! And he calls me the idiot! Me! The utter betrayal! I’m never agreeing to become the second lead to a rom-com ever again!)

When Seokjin finishes whispering in your ears, you appear amused by what he had said. Yoongi sweats when you turn to face him, grinning slyly at him. “Is that so…” you wonder aloud. Yoongi feels like the world has shifted on its axis somewhat, though he still doesn’t know exactly how. He has a hunch that he’s going to find out soon enough.

“Would I ever lie to you?” Seokjin laughs that annoying laugh of his, slapping his thigh in the process. He straightens up almost immediately, his expression turning deadpan in an instant. “Send me the details by tonight, and I’ll make sure to deliver it, okay?”

“Promise?” You ask, holding a pinky up towards him. Yoongi might have let out a high pitched sob when he sees the gesture, wanting nothing more than to cup your hands in his. God, if he already nearly died from hugging you, who is to say Yoongi won’t immediately disintegrate if you were ever to hold his hand?

“Promise,” Seokjin replies, linking his pinky with yours. He doesn’t forget to point a shit-eating grin at Yoongi, for good measure.

You pull away, looking happier than you did moments prior. You were absolutely glowing, filling Yoongi with a warmth that only you ever knew how to provide. He wants to make you smile like that all the time, wants nothing more than for you to live beside him, filling his walls with the sound of your tinkling laughter. You wave cheerily at the both of them, stepping away to head home. “I guess I’ll see you, then? I’ll make sure to e-mail you my request, Seokjin!” you say, winking teasingly. “Bye to you too, Yoongi! Thanks for the hug!”

Yoongi watches as you walk further and further away as the usual melancholy that follows whenever you leave soon takes its place in his soul. It might be his imagination, but Yoongi thinks the cat ears on his head might have started to droop to match his mood.

The only way he knows how to replace the sadness, however, is by redirecting those emotions on an unsuspecting victim. Lucky for him, a willing volunteer is already within punching distance.

“Ow! Stop punching me, you gremlin!” Seokjin whines, blocking Yoongi’s series of punches like a pro. He might as well put ‘professional punching bag’ on his resume at this point. “I’m trying to help you, you useless beta male!”

“How is this helping! You made me wear cat ears and whispered blasphemies into Y/N’s ears! Now she’s going to order a hug-o-gram for her crush and it’ll be the end of my chances with her! How could you!”

“I was not whispering blasphemies, you twittering tit! I was giving her advice,” Seokjin sniffs, annoyed. “Don’t say I never help you, by the way. I’ve been trying to help you for years now.”

Yoongi hits him with a steely glare. “Really? So replacing all my clothes in my closet with clown attire is your version of help? I had to wear those stupid clown shoes for a week before you told me where you hid my clothes, jackass!”

“I was only trying to help you physically express yourself! You’re already a clown on paper, might as well help you achieve your final form!” Seokjin huffs, infuriatingly haughty. “Listen, believe me. I only told Y/N something that everyone already knows anyway, so just shut your trap and let Daddy handle the rest. You’re not going to lose her, I promise.”

“Please never refer to yourself as Daddy ever again,” Yoongi seethes, stalking off towards their car. “Don’t ever talk to me again.”

“No talk, Yoobie angy…” Seokjin snickers to himself, following Yoongi with a spring in his step. This bastard is going to grovel at his feet by tomorrow evening, he’s sure of it. If he doesn’t, then Seokjin will bite his own dick in half––that’s how sure he is of his plan! (Not that biting his dick in half will do anything to his length; he’d still be left with eight inches, let’s be real.) All in good time.

x x x x x

Seokjin gets an e-mail the next morning, much earlier than any sane person would choose to be awake at. He groans lowly, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he tries to read the contents of the letter. When he’s satisfied by what he has read, he forwards the e-mail to Yoongi before allowing sleep to take him once more.

Sleep evades him, however, when the sound of Yoongi’s big feet pounds noisily outside his bedroom. He hits his knee loudly against the coffee table, causing their beloved popcorn machine to tumble to the floor, but that is of little consequence to Yoongi right now. No, he needs to get into Seokjin’s room right now and scream––

“WHAT THE FUCK?” Yoongi hollers, slamming Seokjin’s door open. The hinges creak, desperately hanging on despite the impact. Yoongi proceeds to slam a fist upon Seokjin’s ass, who barely flinches due to the fatness of his ass cushioning most of the damage. He blinks blearily at Yoongi, but the smirk on his face is clear as day.

“Came to claim your hug so early in the morning? Well, I usually don’t entertain clients until after I’ve taken a shower, but for you… I’ll make an exception,” he yawns, peeling back his blanket and patting the empty spot on his bed. “Come on in, Yoobie Boobie… Let’s hug like it’s the last day on earth.”

Seokjin fails to realize that once he removed his blanket, he had inadvertently left himself vulnerable. Yoongi slams the heel of his foot against Seokjin’s groin, causing him to shriek bloody murder at 7 AM. He wonders, amidst his pain, whether this might be the last straw and that their landlord will finally kick them out after years of their stupid shenanigans.

“WHAT DID THAT E-MAIL MEAN? IF IT’S WHAT I THINK IT IS…” Yoongi threatens, but it’s as empty as Seokjin’s butthole. They both know the implications of that e-mail, even a toddler can put two and two together and make sense out of it. Anonymous e-mail or not, Seokjin wouldn’t just forward any hug-o-gram request to Yoongi, unless…

What did the e-mail say? It goes something like:

Dear Mr. Kim,

Thank you for offering your special promotion for new time customers of your Hug-o-gram Service! I’ve always been a quiet fan of your business idea, but I’ve always been a little shy to submit a request of my own. Thank you so much for giving me the little push that I needed to send my first (and hopefully last) hug.

I’d like to send a hug to Mr. Min Yoongi from the Music Department. I understand that he has recently been appointed an employee at your business, but seeing as how it’d be difficult for him to hug himself (while not entirely impossible), I’d like to request that you be the one to send the hug to him.

I don’t really have a message for him, per se… I’m still a little shy, even though you already told me that there is no reason to be. I want to believe what you said was true, so I’m pushing my fear aside and putting my fate into your hands. So, to Mr. Min Yoongi… “When I told you it was nice to hug someone you like, I don’t think you understood what I meant. A hug, after all, is a two-way street. They’re often served the best when it is reciprocated, if you catch my drift. :)”

Peace! :3

Regards,

[Redacted] [Redacted]

“Have your brain synapses finished connecting? Because if even this flies over your head, I’m sorry to say buddy but… You might have smooth brain syndrome,” Seokjin pipes up. He observes Yoongi’s brow crumpling, the first signal of his impending mental breakdown. If Seokjin remembers correctly, the next signal should be when––

Yoongi drops down to his knees, his phone clattering to the floor as he stares absently at the ceiling. Seokjin cringes, worried for the state of his friend’s frail kneecaps. The poor sap has bad heart health already; surely, it isn’t too early to get him a life alert button?

Seokjin scooches over his bed, dangling half his body over the edge to appraise his friend. “So. What do you plan to do now?”

For a moment, Yoongi remains silent. Eventually, he shuffles closer to him, perching his hands around Seokjin. The business student raises a brow, confused, until Yoongi pushes Seokjin back onto the middle of the bed so that he can cram himself beside Seokjin on his small double bed. He huffs amusedly, allowing the smaller boy to snuggle into his chest, though he still refuses to wrap his arms around him. Close enough, Seokjin snorts.

“I need your help, hyung.” Yoongi’s voice is small, shy. It’s so uncharacteristic of him that Seokjin immediately softens. They might act like toddlers together the majority of the time, but Seokjin truly does care about Yoongi more than anything. During early mornings like this, when the sun’s soft rays are filtering through his sheer curtains and filling the room with a gentle warmth, it’s nice to cuddle up with one another and enjoy the silence. In fact, Seokjin would never admit it to Yoongi, but he got the idea for his Hug-o-gram service from Yoongi himself, back when the younger boy would be more prone to sneaking into his bed during his bouts of loneliness and homesickness.

Above all else, Yoongi is just a boy with a lot of love to give, so who is Seokjin to say no to his pleas for help?

“You know I always got your back, Yoongi-chi. Whenever you’re ready, we can do whatever you want. Ask and you’ll receive,” he replies, caressing his soft black tresses. Yoongi hums, smiling softly into his chest.

“Thanks, dude. For being… you know.”

Seokjin’s heart pangs a little, but he ignores it. Instead, he continues combing through his hair, humming gently. “I know.”

x x x x x

It’s been a few days since you sent the e-mail to Seokjin and you haven’t heard back from him. You aren’t sure if he sends confirmation e-mails to his clients as you’d never asked for a hug-o-gram before, nor did you know anyone who has. You are forced to continue on with your days like normal, trying to ignore the unsettling anxiety from creeping up your throat and spewing all over the sidewalk.

If Seokjin hadn’t been lying to you, then there shouldn’t be anything to worry about. You’ve been harboring this crush on Yoongi for years now, and you never thought in your life that it would ever be reciprocated. He always seemed a little bit detached, a little too cool for you. Never mind the fact that he always seemed so jittery around you, like it was hard to talk to you or something!

Your answer comes on the last day of the week, after an especially rough day at class. Your back is bent, having finished a grueling four hour lab period where you did nothing but stand and stare at your reaction vessel spinning without any signal of change. You are just a little bit hangry from all the stress piling up on your plate, especially since you hadn’t eaten a decent meal since breakfast at 8 AM.

In short, life isn’t going as smoothly as you’d hoped for your senior year, but you can’t let the blues get to you too soon. After all, there are leftover chicken wings in your fridge with your name on it, and nothing beats your meat more than greasy poultry to end a terrible week.

You’re only inches away from sliding your keycard to open your shared dorm room when the door opens without prompting. You flinch backward, yelping loudly when your roommate Park Jimin grins slyly from the doorway––never a good sign, if you knew anything.

“Fancy seeing you here,” Jimin says, leaning casually against the door like he hadn’t just scared the living shit out of you. He takes one glance at your disheveled hair and lightly sweaty clothes before grimacing in disgust. “Girl, I can’t let you meet the love your life while you’re looking like that. Come on, we have a few minutes before he arrives. Let’s get you freshened up.”

“I’m sorry?” You squeak, allowing your roommate to manhandle you into your own home. He pushes you into your room, depositing you roughly onto your unmade bed. You try to make eye contact with him, but he’s too busy raiding your closet to pay you much attention. “Excuse me? What did you say just now?”

“No time, princess! Your Prince Charming is on the way, and I’ve been ordered by Seokjin to prepare you for this life-changing moment, so get your ass into gear and change into this!” He shoves a clean pair of jeans and a nicer-looking blouse at you before proceeding to grab your hairbrush and comb your tresses with the gentleness of a mother tigress. You shriek when the brush gets tangled in an especially stubborn knot, but Jimin is relentless. He nearly tears your hair by the roots, ignoring your pained whines.

“Will you fucking stop! I have literally no idea why you’re acting like a psycho all of a sudden–” You shout when Jimin begins to undress you, having to kick him in the chest to get him away from completely eradicating your remaining traces of dignity. “Okay, fine! I’ll dress myself! Just get out of my room and fucking stay away!”

Jimin looks at you dubiously for a split second, before eventually acquiescing. “You have two minutes to get changed. You wouldn’t want to keep him waiting, do you?” he says, smirking knowingly. He better dread the day that you finally wipe that annoying twinkle in his eye; it’s been a long time coming.

Left alone to your own devices, you do as Jimin says even though you’re still wildly confused by everything. To think you had been so excited to feast on your chicken wings, and instead, you went through a decade’s worth of torture within the last few minutes. Patting your hands on the butt of your jeans, you meekly take a step out of your bedroom, where Jimin is already tapping his foot impatiently by the door.

He motions for you to hurry up. “Let’s go! Seokjin says they’re rounding up the corner. Hold on,” he steps closer to you, raising your arm up to take a shameless sniff of your pits. “Sorry, had to make a pit stop. You can never be too sure,” he shrugs, disregarding your squawks of indignation.

“I smell fine! Now what are we–” Your sentence is cut short as Jimin all but carries you to the elevator, your shrieks of terror causing one or two of your neighbors to peek their heads out of their doors. When they see it’s just the two of you, they simply shrug their shoulders, returning to their lives like it was normal to see Jimin carry you in a fireman’s hold.

He doesn’t put you down until you reach the lobby of your dorm complex, barely out of breath despite having held you the entire way down. Stupid buff baby, you groan internally to yourself, straightening down your clothes in a desperate attempt to look decent. “Okay, we’re here. Who am I supposed to be meeting?”

In lieu of an answer, Jimin points wordlessly outside your building. A black car is parked on the other side of the road, and you can barely see a familiar head of hair poking out from the driver’s seat. “Seokjin? What the…” you trail off, before your eyes finally land on their target.

Yoongi stands outside the glass doorway, not dressed in his usual all-black attire. He’s wearing an outrageously cute pink shirt today, matching the color of his natural flush. He always looks effortlessly good, with his hair a little windswept in that boyishly cute way. Your mouth goes a little dry when you realize he’s wearing his famous leather jacket, the one that always got the girls and boys swooning when he walked past in them. You hated how whipped for him you were, not wanting to be like the weird kids in his secret fan club, but who can blame you? He’s just so…

You rip open the door, nearly tripping and falling over the short steps leading to the entrance. You grind to a halt in front of him and you’re acutely aware of how rabid you must look. Your chest is pounding, like your heart is begging you to step closer, just like when you had hugged him all those days ago. God, you were going to kill Park Jimin for this.

“Yoongi? What are you…” You take one look at him before your gaze drops to his hands folded carefully behind his back. It doesn’t hide the fact that there is an obvious bouquet of flowers behind him, though. Your face lights on fire when you notice they were your favorite flowers too.

“I’m here to deliver a hug?” Yoongi says it like he’s unsure of himself, but there’s a little coyness laced in his tone. His cheeks are painted a soft pink, and not for the first time, they remind you of freshly baked bread pulled out from the oven. Soft enough to kiss, you wonder idly to yourself.

“I mean… I did order a hug a few days ago, but I do recall not ordering one for myself?” you laugh a little hysterically, your breath cutting short when Yoongi grins softly in response. “I… Who is this hug from?”

Yoongi takes a glance back towards Seokjin. “Hey, boss. Am I allowed to reveal who the secret admirers are, or will that get me fired?”

Seokjin, despite being a few meters away, laughs loud enough for the whole street to hear. “Well, Yoongi-chi. Something tells me your resignation letter was coming in the mail eventually. Who cares about the rules at this point?”

“He’s right,” you quip, pulling Yoongi’s attention back. You’re smiling wide now, your hopes and dreams skyrocketing in your chest and blooming a garden in your heart. “Who cares, right?”

“Right,” Yoongi agrees, taking the last two steps he needs to get closer to you. He drops the bouquet somewhere behind you before finally, finally, embracing you once more. He kisses you gently on the forehead, the contact short and sweet.

You feel like you’re dying, but it’s all good because Yoongi looks just as embarrassed as you. But none of it matters, not when both your happiness is palpable in the air.

“Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“This hug-o-gram is from me to you. Will you go out with me?”

You’ve always been a firm believer that actions speak louder than words. So when you lean in to plant your first kiss of many many more, he knows your answer well enough.

#bangtanarmynet #btsboulangerie #armiesnet #bts scenarios #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts #bts imagines #bts fluff #college!au #min yoongi #yoongi #suga #yoongi scenarios #suga scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts suga #bangtan #bts fanfic #btsghostie #why am i even pretending like i write angst anymore... who am i #i feel like ive forgotten who i am LMAOOOO

[uwuwriting]

Hurting their best friend/crush w/ Oikawa and Terushima

Request: Oikawa and Terushima the playboy squad y’know, hurting their female best friend and manager with whom they have been in love with for the longest time but are too afraid to make a move. It ends in fluff of course but like maybe their friends are like you messed up man and its a really big fight. thank you. - anonymous 

Playboy squad indeed. I feel like all three of them but mostly Oikawa got their hearts obliterated and that’s why they have adopted that fuckboy persona. These boys just need some real love even though one of them is a rat. Love ya.💖💖💖

rules 

masterlist

warnings: angst to fluff, some cursing

Oikawa Tooru

-It had  been a hard week. 

-Actually a hard year. 

-Oikawa was focused almost solely on volleyball, over doing it many times while you were studying like a maniac.

-Being their manager helped you loosen up.

-Plus it gave you the chance to be with your friend group.

-You had noticed how Oikawa seemed to brush off many of your attempts to hang out, sometimes giving you an excuse to why he couldn’t make while other times ditching you. 

-He hadn’t ditched you many times but it still hurt.

-Knowing that your best friend forgot almost completely of your existence. 

-You had drifted apart the last few months and the only one who noticed apart from you was Iwaizumi. 

-He had seen how he wouldn’t find Oikawa beside you when he came to your lunch table or how you weren’t Oikawa’s first call anymore after a game. 

-It bothered him too. 

-Seeing his two best friends separate like that.

-And Iwa knew you tried to prevent it, he gave you advice on the matter as well.

 -But Oikawa seemed oblivious to the gap that was forming and kept on ignoring you, more and more as time went on. 

-The final straw came when he wouldn’t answer your calls one Saturday evening. 

-It was one of those rare occasions when he had agreed to spend some one on one time with you and you were really excited. 

-You hadn’t seen your best friend for weeks, apart from some small conversations during practice.

-You had been waiting for an hour, the movie you had picked already had started and was now in the second act. 

-If this had happened a few months ago you would have let it slide, made a comment in your group chat and leave it at that but not this time. 

-He had ditched you one too many times and you were sick of it. 

-Making your way to the gym, you were taken aback by the lack of sound coming from inside. 

-You expected to be met with the sound of balls slamming on the opposite wall but nothing, the slamming was replaced by female giggles and a really familiar voice.

-Opening the door slightly you found your best friend being pinned to the court’s floor by one of his fans, her giggles bouncing off the walls as she kissed him. 

-Without a word you left, letting the door slam shut behind you as you walked out of school grounds and straight home. 

-It hurt like hell and you weren’t able to get that image of him pinned to the floor out of your head for the rest of the weekend. 

-He had texted you apologizing for missing your movie night, saying he was practicing late and he got carried away. 

-You answered with a simple okay and didn’t speak to him after that.

-You kept your distance at school, simultaneously avoiding Iwa who knew that Oikawa had done something.

-Volleyball practice was your neutral ground, the only place where you chatted with everyone but still gave him small curt answers. 

-Iwa had had enough of all this so he cornered Oikawa after practice as they were walking home alone, without your normal bubbly presence with them. 

“What the hell did you do to Y/N, Shittykawa?”

“What do you mean? I’m completely innocent.”

“She has been avoiding you like the plague all week and you haven’t even noticed? What the hell happened last Saturday?”

“I didn’t see her...”

“You missed it? Again?”

“It wasn’t my fault! Yui-chan found me at the gym and she kinda jumped on me.”

“You know what’s funny Oikawa? The fact that you claim you love her.”

-That’s why he’s now trying to coax you to open your bedroom door.

- “I’m studying Oikawa leave me alone.”

-His last name leaving your lips hurt, a lot. 

-He had always been Tooru to you or even Shittykawa. 

- “Y/N please, I’m sorry for Saturday I’ll make it up to you!”

-You opened that door then, rage burning in your eyes as you met Oikawa’s pleading face.

 - “Now you care? You have some fucking nerve coming here and giving me some half-assed apology after you ditched me for some chick last Saturday. I don’t need your apologies as much as you don’t need me. So do me the favor and get out of my house.”

-Tooru just stared at you, your words twisting the dagger in his heart. 

-He messed up, he messed up big time. 

- “You saw me with Yui...”

-You were fighting back tears as you looked at him, the sight of your underclassman hovering over him flashing behind your eyelids as you closed your eyes. 

- “Y/N she means nothing I swear, it was nothing, she came at me I-”

- “Why w-would I care what she meant? W-why would I-I care with w-who you make out with?”

- “I care what you think of me!”

-You were full on crying at this point, Tooru shedding his own tears as his fears started clawing their way up his throat. 

-He was losing you.

- “I care what you think of me because I love you. I care what image I create in your pretty mind because I hope that maybe at some point you will look at me in a different light. What I did last Saturday was fucked up and there are no excuses but I’m sorry, I truly am. Please Y/N. I can’t- I can’t lose you. Please....” 

-You wanted to hold onto your anger longer, wanted to truly stay mad at him for more because at the end of the day he deserved it but you couldn’t. 

-You launched yourself into his arms, burying your face in his chest as your sobs became louder. 

-He held you there until your tears ran dry, his arms tight around you as if he was afraid you would slip through his fingers at any moment. 

Terushima Yuuji

-You knew him from middle school. 

-Before the piercings. 

-Before the dyed hair. 

-Before the douchebag attitude. 

-And before the ocean of girls coming and going in his life. 

-It affected your friendship but you managed to survive it. 

-Some girls were just too crazy and possessive, harassing you to leave him alone and that he was theirs.

-Terushima always gave them a glare and a cold “we’re done” before proceeding to hang out with you non stop for a week straight. 

-It was your bro code that no matter what, a relationship would not change who you were to each other. 

-That no one would get in between your friendship. 

-Lucky for you, your love for Yuuji pushed away any potential boyfriends that came waltzing into your life. 

-You are attractive, smart and cute plus you’re funny so many boys tried to go out with you, but you being in love with your best friend prevented you from reciprocating their feelings. 

-Yuuji however changed girlfriends every two days and you were there to witness everything. 

-He came barging in your room every Tuesday and Friday to talk about the new girl that threw herself at him or about the hook up he had during the weekend.

-It hurt you seeing him with others but his short relationships gave you hope that he hadn’t fallen in love yet and that you still had a chance. 

-Then she came. 

-She was a year younger than the two of you and she was the only one that lasted for longer than a week. 

-She knew you two were close and whenever you tagged along with them she was seething with anger. 

-She became territorial to the point that Yuuji should tell her to calm down.

-But he wouldn’t and that let to multiple fights and in the end you two stopped talking to each other. 

-The last straw was during one of his games. 

-You are the manager so you are down at the court with them. 

-Terushima hit the ground really hard after he tried to save the ball and he hurt his shoulder.

 -He was escorted to the bench where you put some ice on his slightly swollen shoulder and wiped away some sweat from his forehead.

-He may have acted like a douche to you but he was still your best friend and you loved him so you couldn’t be cold to him for too long.  

-His girl lost her shit. 

-After the game she started yelling at you and calling you a ‘home-wrecker’ and ‘man-stealer’ along with some really offensive stuff. 

-You were putting her in her place when Yuuji came out and saw the whole scene. 

-She immediately ran to him spewing nonsense and lies about how you came at her for no reason. 

-The face of pure shock and disbelief on your face was enough for Terushima to understand that she was lying. 

-All those other times his ‘girl’ said or acted like a bitch to you came crashing down he was hit by a train of realization. 

-He suddenly was aware of your fight and the possibility of losing you, so he finally acted. 

- “I don’t know what happened but don’t talk about Y/N like that.” 

-She looked so offended for a second before snapping....literally. 

- “You defend her over me? Your girlfriend? She is nothing but a sad little girl who wants to steal you away from me! And you’re encouraging her! She’ll start believing she has a chance with you!!!”

-He just let out a growl and pushed past her wrapping an arm around your waist and bringing you into a hug. 

- “Maybe she does.”

-The both of you left the gym and went to blow off some steam at the water fountains.

-After your exchanged apologies you started to mess around throwing playful jabs.

- “Did you mean it? What you said to her.”

- “You mean about us? If you want it to be true than yeah if you don’t then just ignore it.”

-You leaped into his arms squeezing the life out of him as your voice came out in a muffled jumble of words “I want it to be true.”

TAG TEAM AY:

@iwaqchan​ @the-arcana-fan-fic​ @angelwritings​ @axerrri​ @reinyrei​ @dnarez-mangetsu​ @bemorefiction​

#oikawa #oikawa x reader #oikawa x y/n #oikawa x you #oikawa toru imagine #terushima x reader #terushima angst #terushima scenario #terushima x y/n #terushima x you #oikawa angst #fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #Haikyu!! #haikyu x you

[hanniiesuckle17]

The Cake

A/n: Sorry this took so long but I'm obsessed with how this turned out. i hope you guys like this little crack fic ahha (this is also not thoroughly edited.)

Requested: @moonlit-han-main

Tag List: @ashisparanoid @mini-meanhoe @leggomylino @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @hoes4hoseok @yangomangos @jeonqqin @geminirules @crscendoforsung @mrsunshine999​ @jisungsjheekies @hannie-squirrel00 @cotccotc​ @kodzu-ken​ @konenichi​ @yangs-jeongin​ @binniebutter​

Warnings: Cussing probably

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: Being pregnant is stress enough. Having Changbin as the father while quite possibly the greatest thing that has ever happened to Y/n. It was also the most stressful thing that had every happened to Y/n. Prepping for their gender reveal party is a huge ordeal and all the boys are excited to come and help. However, sometimes there are too many cooks in the kitchen.

Genre: comedy, crack, lil romance, fluff, established relationship!au, future parent!au, Fem Reader, Ft.3RACHA

✧

Changbin’s POV

“Jisung, you know Y/n said no alcohol.” 

I sighed seeing my friend carrying an armful of liquor bottles into the kitchen. He laughed less than gently setting them on the island counter. The apartment I shared with Y/n was rather small and the kitchen was basically open to the living room. The clinking of glass bottles had me rolling my eyes. “No. She said no alcohol for her. Duh. She’s pregnant!”

Jisung’s dark fluffy hair fell in front of his doe eyes, but did not hide the impish smile he wore. The door of the apartment swung open to reveal Chan, a square box in hand.

“Is that it?” I asked eagerly as he set the carton down in the kitchen with us. Feeling cramped in the space, Jisung squeezed past us onto the other side of the counter in the living room. 

Chan nodded and flipped open the lid of the carton to reveal a bright white cake. “Just picked it up from the bakery.”

“And he didn’t tell you what color was inside?”

“Do you think I would have walked in that calmly if I knew the gender of your kid?”

I shrugged, listing my head. “Yeah, that checks out.” Swatting Jisung’s hand away I shut the lid keeping him from tasting Y/n and my gender reveal cake. We had been holding off on knowing the gender and both of us were beginning to grow restless with her due date only a few months away. “Chan can you put it on the cake thingy Y/n bought.”

“It has a name.”

“Do you know what it is?” I asked walking to the other side of the counter. Chan stood, eyes blinking at an abnormal pace. “Cake thingy it is then. Y/n will be here in three hours so we have to finish decorating.” The boys nodded and we set to work about putting up the party decorations. 

An hour later the apartment was filled with colorful balloons and cheap streamers. The boys and I stood looking around at our hard work. The cake sat on the counter looking perfect as ever. The living room was bursting with color and the drinks and snacks were laid out and only partially eaten by Jisung.

“Wow. We did it.” Chan said, standing proudly with his hands on his hips surveying our hard work. It was unbelievable that we actually managed to get everything done and looking perfect with so much time to spare. “Where’s Jisung?” 

I shrugged. “I think he said he was putting the broom back in the kitchen.”

“Hey guys, should we put the cake on the table?” 

We turned around to see Jisung holding the beautifully frosted white cake. The cake that was going to tell us the gender of the baby. “Jisung wait-”

“Woah!”

Everything happened in slow motion. Chan and I both lunged forward. We watched in horror as Jisung disappeared below the kitchen island and the cake was thrown up into the air..The delicatable perfect pastry was turning over in the air, gravity pulling it down. 

SPLAT

Chan froze behind me. My hands latched onto the edge of the island counter, anchoring them in place so as not to strangle the nearest squirrel. Jisung slowly stood up facing us, white frosting in his hair. brown hair. Slowly his eyes traveled down to the mess he created. 

“WAIT! DON’T LOOK DOWN!” I screamed holding out my hands to stop him. My friend’s eyes shot up and he looked at the ceiling. “Nobody....look....at the kitchen floor.” 

“Why can’t we-”

“BECAUSE, CHAN.......if the cake is on the floor....we’ll see what color the cake is.”

Hearing this Jisung covered his eyes with his hands. “Fuck. Guys. I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry. Like I’m really sorry.” 

I sighed rubbing my forehead, a headache beginning. “Jisung quit you’re blubbering. It’s not going to help.” We now had no cake; the literal centerpiece of the entire party. “Y/n will be here in two hours. We need to clean this mess up now.” 

Chan ran a hand through his hair in stress. The man was going to have gray hair before he was thirty. “How are we supposed to clean if we can’t look at the floor?” My eyes fell onto the kitchen counter. A dish rag hung on the edge of the sink.

“I’ve got an idea.” 

✧

My left hand felt blindy around for the edge of the counter. The other pushed a  mop around the kitchen. The kitchen towel was itchy against my eyes, but I would rather keep my eyes in my head than have them end up in Y/n’s purse if I saw the color of the cake. 

A sudden whack to my ass had me yelping and shooting up from my hunched position. “Ow- what the hell?” My ears picked up the sound of a dust pan falling to the floor. 

“Sorry, I was turning around.” 

“Jisung, my ass is reserved for Y/n. Hands off. Dust pans too.”

Chan chuckled not far away from me. These makeshift blindfolds really were a bitch. “That is something I never thought I would ever hear. Don’t say it again.” 

After a few more minutes of sightless fumbling and cleaning, the three of us sighed. “I think we did it.” Jisung mumbled. “Can I take this off now?”

I nodded, despite my friends lack of ability to see. “Okay. Take em off.”

Pulling off the blindfolds, we were met with a horrifying sight. Every inch of my kitchen- of Y/n’s kitchen, was smeared and stained bright blue. Not only was the frosting on the floor, but it was on the cabinets, the counters, even the walls. 

“It’s.......everywhere...” Chan mumbled, staring at the catastrophe. “How did it get everywhere? I thought we cleaned it!” 

Jisung’s eyes widened. His hand clapped onto my shoulder. “Dude! You’re having a boy!” Both Chan and I looked over at him with a pointed stare. “What? Don’t look at me like that. What the fuck did I do?”

“You’re in deep shit.” Chris laughed looking at the cerulean stained tile. 

My eyes widened, turning to my friend. “Nuh uh. We are in deep shit. Jisung is the one that dropped the cake.”

“And how is that my fault?!” 

“I don’t know! You’re the smart one! Fix this!”

The leader ran his long pale hands through his hair. After pacing through the smeared frosting I was beginning to think we were indeed truly fucked. I began to lose hope until I saw an idea pass through Chan’s dark eyes. “You got an idea?” The youngest asked, swiping his finger along the counter and bringing the blue frosting up to his lips. He nodded, determination set on his face. 

“Call Felix.”

✧

A white blonde head of hair pranced through the door seventeen minutes later carrying a bucket with bleach and two bags of groceries. “You called for a miracle?” The boys smiled and looked at the three of us covered in icing. 

“Yeah, Felix, why’d you show up.” Jisung laughed only to be elbowed in the stomach by Chan. 

“Felix....help,” I pleaded. The boy shoved the bucket into Jisung’s arms and peeked into the kitchen looking over the disaster we created. He whistled, brows raising in surprise. “We have an hour and a half. Can you do it?”

His head tilted and a deep chuckle bubbled up in his chest. “Of course I can.” the boys and I let out a sigh of relief. “Chan, you and father-to-be deep clean the kitchen. Jisung, you and I will take care of the cake.” We all just stared at Felix as he barked out orders. “LET’S MOVE BOYS! LET’S GO, GO, GO!”

Scrambling, the four of us raced to fix the calamity before Y/n could come home and ever find out that we not only found out the gender of our child early, but quite possibly permanently stained her nice kitchen turquoise. 

The short time we had soon fizzled into nothing and the sound of keys turning in the lock of the front door had every  body in the apartment rushing to cover up the last bits of our mishap. 

Y/n walked in with a smile. The four of us rushed to appear as if nothing had ever happened. Chan launched himself onto the couch. Jisung admired one of our one posters that was hanging framed in the living room. Felix pretended to be inspecting our Vitamix that he gave us last Christmas as he always did when he came over to see if it had been used yet. 

I greet her with a hug, kissing her cheek. “Hi, Binnie!” Pulling away she looked around the apartment at the boys who were less than nonchalant, her eyes particularly falling on Jisung. Felix waved to her from the kitchen. “Oh- Lix! I thought you weren’t coming until the party started?” 

“I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d...drop...by.” He smirked and I glared at him from behind my pregnant fiancee. 

“Well, you’re always welcome!” She looked around the at the decorations and we all held our breath as she entered the kitchen. Y/n’s eyes lit up as her eyes landed on the cake. It looked almost exactly like the one Jisung had dropped only hours before. “Is this the cake? It looks so good! No one peeked right?” 

“No, no.”

“Not me.”

“I don’t even know what a cake is.”

“We would never.”

Giving us all weird eyes, Y/n chuckled and put a glass cover over the cake display. “The party will start soon. Thank you guys so much for helping out!” Letting loose a shaky breath I watched her wander into the bedroom to change for the soon coming party. 

“I think we got away with it guys. Not a word.”

✧

The party was in full swing. Friends and family mingled in our apartment and gifts for the baby and us were being stacked by the door. Chan was on Jisung detail keeping him far away from Cake 2.0. 

“Hey, everyone, it’s time to cut the cake!” The crowd cheered and gather around Y/n and I as we stood behind the cake Felix made with the minuscule help from Jisung. Nervously, I handed Y/n the knife and cast a wary glance towards the four other boys who were obviously sweating. The blade cut through the airy confection with ease.

“Ummm......Changbin.....”

“Yes?”

Her brows rose and she dumped the cut piece of cake on a plate. “Do you mind telling me why this cake has green filling, babe?” Y/n watched me blink, completely frozen in place. “Is there an alien or Shrek growing in my belly? Changbin what the hell?”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Felix slap Jisung upside the head. “What did you do? I gave you the food coloring!” He whispered clearing exasperated. 

“I put it in the cake mix, just like you said!” 

Felix groaned and held his head in his hands. “Dude! I told you to put the coloring in the whipped filling! That was yellow cake batter! You mix blue and yellow you get fucking green! You made Changbin have a Shrek baby!”

The two continued to bicker while Y/n turned to me with a furious look in her eyes. “What did you do....”

“Jisungdroppedthecakeitwasn’tmyfaultthenweallputonblindfoldssowewouldn’tseewhatcoloritwasonthefloorandthefrostinggoteverywheresowecalledFelixandhewaslikethebleachfairyandheandJisungmadeanothercakeandI’msosorrybabyIloveyou.” I sputtered at top speed. 

She just blinked, trying to process my words. “I don’t even know...how to even comphrend what’s going on. Honestly at this point I’m not even sure I’m not growing a Shrek in my belly.”

I smiled leaning down and kissing Y/n’s soft lips. “No,” She looked up at me with soft eyes, anger slowly leaving. “That’s our son.” 

“He still might turn out to be Shrek.”

“Shut up, Jisung.”

✧

Masterlist

#stray kids imagines #skzwriternet #stayracha #stray kids masterlist #stray kids angst #stray kids scenarios #seo changbin imagines #seo changbin oneshot #seo changbin imagine #seo changbin smut #seo changbin #seo changbin au imagines #seo changbin fluff #changbin imagines #changbin imagine #changbin fluff #3racha imagine #stray kids #stray kids au imagine #stray kids au imagines #stray kids college au #stray kids incorrect quotes #stray kids reactions #stray kids social media au #stray kids smau #stray kids soulmate au #stray kids single parent au #rubber ducky you're the one #seo changbin single dad #sf9 imagines

[radiantroope]

Passed Around || JJ Maybank

pairing: jj x reader

mentions: john b, pope, kiara

requested: no

summary: everyone in the outer banks has their opinions of you. a touron with a smart mouth learns just how quick jj will come to your defense.

warnings: underage consumption of drugs/alcohol, swearing, violence, blood

author’s note: i just started writing randomly and this was the product, enjoy.

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

* i do not own this gif! if it’s yours, please let me know so i can properly credit you! *

Of course, there was another party at The Boneyard. No surprise there. Summer or Winter, there was always a party. The amount of people that filled the beach always somehow managed to surprise you, especially when it was off season for the tourists. Sometimes you’d still get a couple; people visiting family who lived on the island for Thanksgiving or Christmas.

It was the beginning of December and you’d just arrived at the beach, already hearing thumping music and loud laughter. The brisk ocean air was much colder than you preferred as it came off the ocean. You were yearning for those hot Summer nights again.

You pulled the jacket you were wearing tighter around yourself and continued on your way down to your friends. Just as you hopped over one of the dead and forgotten trees, you heard a shout of your name. You looked to the kegs and smiled when you saw Kiara waving her arm.

As you approached her, you raised an eyebrow at the three kegs set up. Three, how did they manage to score three? You didn’t ask, sometimes you were just better off not knowing. You gratefully took the plastic cup John B passed you and quickly drank some of the bitter liquid.

“Rough day?” the curly haired boy raised an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes but ranted anyway, “My grandma is still here. She was supposed to leave after Thanksgiving and now my parents tell me she’s staying all the way through Christmas! If I have to listen to her talk about what college I should go to or about boys any longer, I’m gonna go insane!”

“Does- she doesn’t know about JJ?” Kiara asked with her brows furrowed.

“Oh, she does, but she’s in some alternate reality where she thinks I’ll marry a Kook and be a trophy wife,” you retorted with a sarcastic smile on your face, “My mom’s told her a hundred times that JJ and I are together and nothing will change that.”

You looked over your shoulder at the said blonde who was sitting in a circle with some other teenagers. You saw smoke pillowing through the air and were hit with the faint smell of weed. JJ’s cerulean eyes caught yours and he smiled, waving for you to join him.

“Go, we’ll catch up about your crazy grandma later,” Kiara said, smiling at you.

You smiled back at the girl and turned to walk towards your boyfriend, calling over your shoulder, “Love you, Kie!”

You and JJ had gotten together about nine months ago. Years of longing looks and lingering touches were driving your friends insane. How could two people be so oblivious? Everyone knew your hearts were set on each other, but the two of you were always too stubborn to admit it. Plus, you didn’t want to be the one to break the no macking rule.

One day at the Chateau it boiled over when one of your hookups over stayed his welcome. JJ woke up for the third morning in a row to find the guy helping himself to his stash. He lost it. He wailed on the poor boy and literally kicked him out the door. This resulted in you insisting you liked him and the blonde calling bullshit.

“How do you know how I feel, JJ? You don’t!” you’d screamed, stomping your foot like an angry toddler who’d just been told no as you tried to get your point across.

“Yes I do! Pope told me you’re in love with me!”

Yeah, Pope spilled the beans after you made the drunken confession one night. You swore him to secrecy, but that boy couldn’t keep secrets to save his life most of the time. You still to this day would never let him live that down. But how could you stay mad at him when it resulted in the best possible outcome? JJ was yours, and you were his, finally.

“What’s cookin’ good lookin’?” you flirted as you walked over to the blonde boy.

JJ smiled and laughed, shaking his head at you, “You’re rediculous.”

“But you love me,” you stated as you plopped yourself on his lap, sitting most of your weight on his thigh. His arm wrapped around your waist tightly and he pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek.

“Damn right I do.”

You watched as a blunt was passed around the group and listened in on the conversation, chimming in now and again. You took a few puffs yourself when JJ held it up to your lips. You weren’t a big smoker though. Half of the time it made you more anxious than it calmed your down.

JJ had gone to get you both refills on your beers but got distracted talking to Pope and John B. You took his seat and turned to watch him, smiling when he laughed and his eyes crinkled at the corners. His bright white teeth sparkled in the glow of a fire that was going. You watched as the breeze blew his cut off tank and you caught his muscles tense at the cold hair.

“So you and Maybank, huh?” a voice caught your attention and you whipped around.

A Touron, Dominic, who frequented the island this time of year sat in front of you. He had shaggy dark brown hair that was straight and fell around his face, barely touching his jaw. His eyes were a beautiful mossy shade of green. You probably would have hooked up with him in the past is he wasn’t known to be such an ass. He ran around with Rafe and his goons during the day and spent his nights on The Cut causing trouble. He was nicknamed “girlfriend stealer” after many-a-hookups that resulted in ended relationships.

“Yeah,” you responded blandly. There was no way in hell you were going to entertain this kid. He took pride in stealing people’s girls; you would not be one of them.

“You could do better,” Dominic remarked, an infuriating smirk growing on his face. You resisted the urge to slap it right off.

“Like you?” you scoffed, eyebrow raised. “Yeah, I’ll pass.”

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t act like you don’t want to. I remember the way you used to look at me.”

You clenched your jaw and pressed your lips into a line. You stared at him with a blank expression, the smirk on his face growing. He opened his mouth to say something else but was cut off.

“Everything okay over here?” JJ asked from behind you.

He’d seen the way Dominic was looking at you. He knew the game the little shit was playing, and it was a dangerous one. The group of teenagers in the circle you were sitting in looked between the three of you nervously. They all knew better than to push JJ, especially when it came to you. He was quick to fight - even quicker when it was over you.

“Yeah man! Just telling Y/N here she used to be a lot more fun before she got a boyfriend,” Dominic replied casually, shrugging his shoulders a bit.

You stood up and turned to face JJ, seeing that he’d handed your drink refills off to John B and Pope who stood behind him. He’d been anticipating this the moment he saw you two talking. You put your hands on the blonde’s chest and stared up at him.

“Let’s just go, J. It’s not a big deal.”

“Nah, I want to hear what he has to say,” JJ pushed your hands off his chest, eyes never leaving the brunette who was now standing.

Dominic snickered and pushed his hair back off his forehead, saying, “I heard she got passed around quite a bit. Rafe sure had a lot to say about her. Was hoping I could find out for myself.”

Low blow, asshole, you thought to yourself, feeling your stomach sink at the mention of the oldest Cameron sibling. You’d messed around with him long before you and JJ got together, Topper too. It put a rift between you and the Pogues for a while. They didn’t care who you slept with, as long as they weren’t Kooks, but you did what you wanted. JJ was the most upset. You were sleeping with the enemy.

JJ went to walk around you, ready to pummel Dominic into the sand. You grabbed the front of JJ’s shirt and pushed him back with all of your strength. You hated when he got in fights. You couldn’t watch. Most of the time he won, but when he didn’t, you had to clean him up. You tried to keep him out of them the best you could.

“Don’t, JJ, please,” you begged, pushing against his abs, “It’s not worth it.”

JJ’s eyes flickered down to yours, his cold gaze softening a bit when he looked at your pleading face.

“Wow, they weren’t kidding. You really are her bitch,” Dominic said through a laugh when he realized you were convincing JJ not to fight him.

“Shut the fuck up!” you yelled over your shoulder, pushing your boyfriend back once again.

It was useless, JJ managed to get past you, your hands grabbing onto his arms and shirt - whatever you could get ahold of to keep him back. John B grabbed your arm the second the blonde’s fist hit Dominic’s face. You looked back at your curly haired friend and he simply shook his head. Not even Pope moved, they were going to let the guy get his assbeat for talking about you like that. No one talked about you like that.

“Don’t ever talk about her like that again!” JJ yelled, arms swinging, “I’ll kill you, you hear me?! I’ll fucking kill you!”

You tried to shout your boyfriend’s name over the cheering from people watching the fight. He couldn’t hear you, still standing over Dominic who’d been knocked down. He landed blow after blow against the Touron’s face.

“Alright, JJ!” John B yelled, stepping forward.

“He’s had enough, man!” Pope added.

You breathed in deeply through your nose and closed your eyes for a second. As you opened your eyes, you screamed JJ’s name as loud as you could. It was so loud, everyone went quiet and their eyes turned to you.

The blonde froze, fist still pulled back mid swing. His anger fueled frenzy was over and he was brought back to Earth by your voice. He dropped Dominic, who was groaning in pain, into the sand by his shirt. His arm fell to his side and he turned to face you. He had blood trickling down from his nose but other than that, he seemed to be perfectly unharmed.

“Are you done?” you questioned, arms crossing over your chest with a raised brow.

JJ simply nodded in response and walked away from the boy he’d just seriously beaten. He approached you with slumped shoulders and sheepish expression, knowing you were going to scold him for getting in yet another fight. But how could he just stand there and let someone degrade you like that?

“Sorry,” he muttered softly and reached for you, slipping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you back towards the kegs. Kiara stood there, shaking her head as she had watched the altercation from afar.

“If he presses charges, you’re thouroughly fucked, you know that?” you asked him seriously. Though you brought your hand up and intertwined your fingers with his that was hanging off your shoulder.

The blonde boy nodded and took a cup of beer from Kie with his free hand. He downed it all in one go, grunting as he pulled the cup away from his lips. He gave it back for her to refill.

“I know you’re trying to defend me, J, but sometimes I wish you could just walk away,” you sighed and leaned into him, feeling a kiss against the top of your head.

“I’ll try to be better, promise,” he mumbled into your hair and when he pulled his head back you heard him laugh softly. He wiped his hand against your hair and when you looked up at him, he gave you an innocent smile. You saw the trail of blood leaving his nose was smeared and narrowed your eyes.

“You got blood in my hair, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

#obx #outer banks #jj maybank #jj obx #jj outer banks #jj maybank obx #jj maybank outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj x y/n #jj maybank x y/n #jj fluff #jj angst #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank angst #jj fic #jj maybank fic #obx fic #outer banks fic #jj obx fic #jj maybank obx fic #passed around #chyna writes

[willowbird]

For the prompt thing: Andrew/Neil, trope: sickness/injury, location: violently orange yacht. Have fun! Thanks =)

Ooh definitely!

Since no AU was specified I made it kinda intentionally ambiguous.

Also, so you know, I 100% sat down to write this as a cutesy seasick/comfort w/teasing sorta fic. Then, idk, i got a lil bloodthirsty. Just a little bit, though.

Warning for mentions of blood.

---

"Are you really going to hide down here for the whole time?" Kevin's voice was both tired and annoyed, and just for that Andrew didn't even bother to acknowledge his presence, let alone his words.

Instead, he pointedly turned the page in his book as if there was no one about to bother him at all. They had been out on the water for a whole six hours. Andrew had watched the shoreline get smaller and smaller as they pulled away and when it was just a fine sketch of a line along the horizon he'd gone investigating. Which was how he'd found this hidden little nook in the storage hull or whatever the big room of supplies was in the belly of the boat.

The monstrosity was technically a yacht. Which, by definition, is a pleasure liner - a boat intended for entertainment. This "yacht" was big enough to not only carry but fully house and supply a contingent of college athletes. It was suspiciously fortified and had enough supplies stockpiled away that Andrew was beginning to wonder if he hadn't been kidnapped because it seemed just a little bit excessive for a "weekend away".

Personally, he didn't think his problems were going to go away or even be at all eased by an attempted escape via ugly boat. But he wasn't the only one with those problems. He wasn't the only one hurting. And after almost a year... well, he would grudgingly tag along, but he didn't have to participate.

The damn thing was also the most grotesque shade of claw-your-eyes-out dayglow orange that Andrew had ever seen. Which honestly was one of the reasons he'd already gone inside, as of by hiding in the deepest, darkest corner of the vessel he'd save himself a migraine.

"And Andrew? The Lady Fox has luxury suites for each of us. You can't even hide in your room? You choose to come... here?" Out of the corner of his eye, Andrew saw Kevin give his choice of hideaways a disparaging look.

Without taking his eyes from the page, Andrew lifted one hand and offered Kevin his one-fingered opinion.

The next thing he heard was Kevin's annoyed scoff, followed by his retreating footsteps. Satisfied, Andrew snuggled down a little bit deeper into the conveniently-placed hammock he'd found already strung up when he initially explored the place. The book he was reading had a bit of a slow start, but at least three of the side-characters were interesting enough to carry him through until the plot picked up.

Except, he only got two more pages along when he heard a sudden and quite ominous thump that was accompanied by a muffled groan. The book in his hand was instantly replaced with one of the knives he kept tucked in the armbands he was never without. Some people might call Andrew paranoid for bringing weapons onto a boat where he was surrounded only by close friends and family, with a literal ocean between them and harm. Those people would probably be dead right now, gutted in their sleep by a murderous stowaway. Or maybe that thump was one of his family, being murdered by the murderous stowaway.

Maybe it was Kevin.

That thought put a spike of fear in his heart, but right in its wake came a surge of deep rage.

No. He would not allow it. He had already lost... Enough had happened. He refused to let Kevin be hurt as well.

Andrew got out of the hammock as soundlessly and gracefully as possible, searching the shadows of the only half-lit cavernous space as he inched toward the source of the sound. He kept the blade poised to attack with one hand and pulled out his cell phone with the other. Two thumb-swipes later the had the flashlight enabled.

It wasn't Kevin. Nope. Definitely not Kevin.

Not-Kevin was crumpled in a heap in front of a stack of supply crates that it looked like he'd rolled off of, thus causing the thump Andrew had heard. The groan of pain, however, was clearly not from the fall. Or, well, not just from the fall.

"Who are you?" Andrew demanded, shining the light right on the person's face. They looked like a guy, probably. Short-ish hair and made up of more angles than curves - though it was really hard to tell more than that because the blood-soaked clothes were a little bit distracting.

The injured man(?) on the floor let out a choked, broken sound that Andrew belatedly realized was a laugh. It was so rasped and mangled, he'd almost thought the stowaway was about to launch into their death-throes. Judging by the bloodstains and way the person shook and swayed precariously while trying to push up to their hands and knees, that actually might not have been that far off a guess.

Then the stowaway, the person, the man, said, "Nothing."

Andrew froze. "What did you say?"

"You asked who I was," the man said, and Andrew was sure it was a man now. Moreover, the rough edges around his voice may have been tight with pain and possibly disuse, but even without Andrew's near-perfect memory he would have knows the sharp slashes of that voice anywhere.

The man looked up and in the white glow of Andrew's phone light there was no mistaking how immeasurably blue his eyes were. Like the sky painted from an artist's favorite memory. Like the hint of eternity in a crystal sphere.

Neil smiled. His face was dotted with dried blood and marked with new scars, but the expression still somehow turned the whole world on its head to make it a softer, warmer, safer place.

Andrew wasn't sure what hit the ground first, his phone, his knife, or his knees as he skidded to the floor beside Neil, reaching for him. "Neil... Neil. Fuck. The blood. It's yours? FUCK!" He was babbling, but his own voice was distant to his ears as he touched Neil for the first time in almost a year, as he gathered him close and searched for the source of all that blood.

Shaky hands reached for him and Andrew didn't even think about batting them away. He leaned into their touch even as he turned his face toward the stairs and raised his voice to a shout: "KEVIN! AARON! SOMEONE! NOW!"

"H-hey now, Andrew. Andrew, shh, it's okay. I'm okay, it's okay. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I never meant to be away this long."

"Shut up with your fucking 'sorry's Neil, I don't want your fucking 'sorry' - I want you here and alive and not dying in my goddamn arms I am NOT doing this with you, do you hear me junkie?"

Andrew felt like his entire system was in overdrive, his mind moving too fast and his nerve ending firing off in matching cylinders. They looked for Neil for months. And when they finally got a breakthrough via that fucking miserable twat Jean Moreau, it was only to find out that Neil was likely dead.

Those hands cupped his face, and even though they trembled against his cheeks he still touched Andrew like he was holding something incredibly precious. Something that needed care and protection lest it drop or be crushed.

"I promise, Drew. I did not drag myself halfway back around the world just to die in your arms."

"Do not even attempt to give me that, Neil. That is exactly the kind of dramatic shit you would do."

"Nah," Neil protested with a rough laugh. "Definitely more Aaron's thing. He's such a petty bitch."

"Fuck you," Andrew spat out, but a bubble of what might have bene a laugh caught in his chest. There were running footsteps coming their way, thundering down the steps and into the room.

"Andrew?! Andrew what-- oh my God. Oh my God. AARON GET YOUR ASS DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!" Kevin was still shouting as he came to land beside the two of them, and Andrew almost pulled another knife and stabbed him in the fucking eye as he reached for Neil.

In fact, he didn't even realize he had drawn a knife until Kevin jerked back so suddenly he fell on his ass.

"Jesus! Andrew it's just me. He is covered in blood he needs a hospital!"

"It's mostly not mine," Neil chimed in as Andrew struggled to rein in the half-crazed beast that had taken over the arm not holding Neil. The monster inside him was in fits, and its growl was rumbling in Andrew's throat - kept in check only by the slow stroking of Neil's fingers down his jaw.

"Mostly not yours," Kevin echoed, and even through the haze of Andrew's protective rage, he could hear how dumbfounded the other man was.

"Mhm. And I stitched myself up already."

"Stitched yourself up," said Kevin. Then he looked toward the stairs and bellowed: "AARON!"

Neil sighed and the exasperation in that sound was so fucking familiar that it knocked the beast far enough off its temper for Andrew to take control again. He took a slow breath, then another. When Neil looked up at him again, Andrew asked, "Why? How?"

Neil grimaced. The expression must have been painful, Andrew realized as he watched him - because now that he was really looking he could tell that those new scars on his face were less 'scars' and more 'barely healed torture wounds'.

All Neil said was, "It's a long story."

As Aaron finally came half-falling down the steps on wobbly sea-legs, Andrew decided he would leave it be - for now.

The important thing was that Neil was here, Neil was alive, and nothing - fucking nothing - was going to take him away again.

#asks #AFTG prompts #aftg fanfic #aftg ficlet #andreil #reunion fic #mentions of blood #andrew minyard #neil josten #i have no idea what happened dont ask me lol #ask neil - hes the troublemaker #protective andrew minyard #hurt neil josten

[fatbottombucky]

It’s A Bro-Job!*Chris Evans x Reader*

Summary: Yourself and Chris crash at his place after his big 39th Birthday bash, you’re on the sofa when he confesses to something. You decide to help your “bro” out. 

Pairing: Chris Evans x Male!Reader

Rating: [+18] Explicit 

Warnings: MxM smut, Male oral receiving, anal. Creampie King! No plot, it’s all porn. I literally don’t know where this came from, I had a whole other idea but this... just happened

Word Count: Over 2K

Authors Note: I had a conversation with my friend Dan, how he got with his now boyfriend was because he gave him what he calls a “bro-job”. Don’t ask lol Again, my beta, Honey, REALLY helped a girl out with the smut @peachesnplum​ - Ro

Tagging: I was the anon lol @honeychicanawrites​ @rhyrhy462​ @softboi-vibes​

You both stumbled through the door, the lights were all off which made it impossible to see or walk without tripping up. You could hear Chris fumbling for the lightswitch, cursing under his breath when he slaps the wall haphazardly a few times. The lights flicker on and you blink at the brightness, trying to get your eyes to adjust to the sudden change of lighting. 

“Make yourself comfortable,” his words are slurred, but he’s not drunk just on the better side of tipsy. 

You both have that buzz. Your bodies are vibrating from the alcohol, plus the music from the venue you were at. The taste of the confetti cake in your mouths and sweat clings to your bodies; dancing, being pressed to so many people at the party. 

Chris always throws the best birthday bashes, that’s just facts. 

His 39th wasn’t an exception either, somehow, this was more wild. So, many people turned up. Women all wanting a dance with Chris, which he humbly accepted with a wicked grin thrown at you- he’s shameless. You’d never hear him brag about the advances, but he wouldn’t hide the absolute prideful smirk he gets when he is flirted with. 

It’s what makes the ending of this birthday so… different. Normally, you’d be his wingman. Granted you’ve never been with a woman before, you’re gay, but you somehow have this charming effect on everyone you meet and it helps ease Evans anxiety knowing if things get awkward you can steer him back on track. 

You originally met his brother, Scott, through Grindr. You met up, had a connection but more so as friends and you haven’t looked back. Five years of being their friend and pining after Chris. 

Tonight, however, Chris left the party with you. He danced and flirted with a few girls, pretty and stunning girls. But he claimed he didn’t find the person to give him that 39th sex experience. 

Whatever that means. 

However, the conversation happening now is something completely different. “Well, how would you know?” You asked with a laugh. “Guys suck dicks better, it’s facts. We know what we like, I’m sure girls are great. Heck, I bet they’re marvellous. Props to women for sucking dick, but guys are just naturals to it.” 

Chris looks at you with disbelief and you look back at him, willing him to challenge you on this argument. “All I said was that, I think, I wouldn’t be good at it.” He reminds you. 

Huh, why were you saying that? 

“I said what I said,” you defend yourself and Chris laughs. “Anyway, why isn’t there a girl giving you a birthday blow-job?” He chokes on the beer he has, coughing as he tries to take a sip when you ask that question. “Stop acting so innocent, Evans. We all know this is your favourite time of year, every girl is suddenly into anal for your birthday.” 

It’s a couple minutes before he has settled, giving you a playful glare. “I don’t know, I wasn’t feeling it from any of the girls at the party. Honestly, I didn’t get any last year either.” 

“Damn,” you mutter with raised eyebrows and Chris shakes his head. “Two years in a row? Chris, there’s a plethora of people willing to do anything, you know that, right?” He nods with a simple shrug. 

“I can’t remember the last time I had my dick sucked,” He admits with a frown, a thoughtful sip of his beer. “Probably, sometime before Endgame began shooting.” 

That’s a...while. Longer than you would’ve expected. Chris is a very attractive guy, you half expect him to have someone on the side. Maybe, not a full time thing but someone he can call up for a bit fun. Yet, almost half a year since he’d done anything. 

That needed to be changed. Pronto. 

“Unconventional offer,” You begin, “but this wouldn’t be my first time giving a bro-job.” 

“A what now?” 

You roll your eyes, “I’m your bro, right? I’ll suck your dick, no questions asked. Don’t make it weird, it’s just a bro doing a favour.” 

The explanation should make him laugh, you hoped anyway. Instead he’s silent, watching you and for a moment you think, maybe, just maybe, you might have offended him. Of course, you’re best friends and this could potentially make things awkward. 

“Okay,” he shrugged nonchalantly and that throws you off now. “Well, you offered.” 

Instead of questioning his willingness you get off of the sofa, settling between his legs but avoiding looking into his eyes, for now. You work on unbuttoning his pants, pulling the zipper down and he helps by lifting his hips as you pull his jeans and briefs down. 

His cock is only half-hard, heavy and dribbling a small amount of pre-cum from the tip. It’s long and girthy, exactly what you expected but a little bigger than you’ve ever taken before. You spit in your palm and wrap the hand around him already slowly working him. He gets harder in your hand as you lick the pre-cum away, it’s a slow process till he’s extremely hard in your grasp. 

That’s when you really begin. 

Once he’s rockhard, you take the tip into your mouth lightly suckling the head. Pulling out the salty pre-cum from the tip, flattening your tongue against the underside of his dick before taking more of him into your wet, hot mouth. A loud groan comes from him, you finally look up and see his head is thrown back. One of his hands holds the back of your head, keeping your mouth on his cock. 

You start to work your mouth down his length, breathing evenly through your nose as you nudge him down your throat. Your gag reflex coming in strong as you have his entire length settled in your mouth, your nose brushing against the trimmed pubic hair he has. 

“Fuck!” he chokes and looks down at you, “swallowed my cock whole, filthy slut.” 

You swallow around his length, throat tightening around his length and he releases a groan. Your jaw aches from having it stretched so wide, so full too. You start to bob your head, practically choking yourself on his cock as you fuck your throat. 

Your own jeans becoming tight around the crotch area, your own cock aching for attention. This isn’t about you, it’s about Chris and you doing him a favour, so you forget about the hardness in your pants and double your efforts. 

Saliva and cum dribbles from the corners of your mouth, slurping and choking sounds coming from your slicked up mouth. Everything about this is dirty and sinful. You’re sucking your friends dick, nothing about this is sweet or innocent. And Chris is enjoying it. 

Hands on your head, his hips lifting to meet your mouth to fuck it generously. He’s panting above you, chest heaving and eyes darkened but not leaving your face. It’s like he’s a different person, not that you minded. If anything this side of Chris is, somehow, in some way hotter to you. 

“Oh, god,” he groans out loudly, eyes rolling into the back of his head, “can I fuck you? Let me fuck you.” He stutters out when you grip his balls. 

You pull off his cock with a slurp and a pop, looking up at him for a moment. A whimper escapes his throat when you’re not around him anymore, a thick string of saliva connects you to his dick and more is dribbling down your chin. 

“You sure?” You asked rubbing at the bulge in your jeans, the thought of getting fucked by him just making you want to explode. 

“Fuck yes.” 

That’s all you need, you’re standing up on shaky legs with achy knees. You button your pants and pull them down, trying to pull your shirt off. It’s a flurry of clothes being removed from the both of you, you look at Chris and allow your eyes to roam over his naked torso. 

But he seems to have other plans, grabbing and pulling you back to the sofa. Your hands clutch the armrest ahead of you, knees spread and ass in the air as Chris has one knee on the sofa and the other leg on the floor. 

He spreads your asscheeks apart, spitting on your quivering hole and you groan at the feeling of it dripping down before it can go anywhere he’s swirling the spit around your tight ring. Fingertips dipping inside of you, you shakily sigh when a finger slips in and he starts to fuck you with it. Adding another finger, your thighs are shaking already just from having his thick digits inside of you. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you, but fuck I just wanna fuck you already.” he admits and your eyes roll into the back of your head when a third finger is scissored inside of you. 

He fingers your ass for a few minutes, spitting to add more lubrication before he eventually pulls his messy fingers from you. Pumping his cock with spit slicked fingers and lining himself up, you feel the fat tip prod your opening. 

Even with the slight prep it’s still on the side of pain when he pops the head in, your hole stretching around him and he sinks in slowly. Hands grip your hips in a bruising embrace, he allows you to adjust once he’s fully settled inside. Your cock is leaking pre-cum and smearing onto his sofa, but neither of you seem to care about it. 

Chris pulls back a couple of inches before slamming back in, you groan and squeeze your eyes shut. His hand slinks up your back and gripping the back of your neck in a tight grip, you know you’re in for the ride of your life. He starts pounding into you, showing little mercy on you. He fucks you with long, hard strokes. The tip of his more than impressive length hitting your prostate everytime. 

You choke on air, your lungs barley filled because he’s fucking the life out of you. His other moves and wraps around your cock, loosely wrapping around it, so that every jolt of his hips has your cock fucking into his hand. 

“Fuck, I’m going to cum.” You admit and bite your lip, feeling your balls tighten and your cock starting to twitch. Chris has the audacity to chuckle darkly at you, every thrust in he grinds his hips so that his cock head brushes against your prostate. 

“Go on then,” he leans his body down, torso against your back and mouth beside your ear. “Cum in my hand because you can’t hold it, can’t even wait for me, can you? So desperate.” 

You groan and start meeting his thrusts, pushing back against him- almost like you were chasing his dick every time it started to withdraw. It’s a few more thrusts and you’re cumming with a shout, spilling over his hand and sofa, it’s hot and sticky but you don’t care. Chris continues to fuck you, wrapping his hand tighter around your cock as you cum. He squeezes and milks your dick of it’s release, you whimper as he continues to stroke your cock even after everything had spilled. 

“Cum inside of me, please.” You look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes and he bites his bottom lip harshly. 

You can tell his close by the way his eyes glaze over, a stuttered groan escaping him when he continues to pound into your overused hole. He pulls up off of you, hands gripping your asscheeks and spreading them so he can watch exactly where his cock slips in and out of you. 

“You want it all inside of you, huh?” He asked with a cock smirk and you nod, unable to form words. “Gonna fill your ass up.” He throws his head back and moans loudly. 

You feel the hot load shoot inside of you, he doesn’t stop fucking you as he cums. Short thrusts and deep thrusts as he continues to cum inside, it feels never ending as load after load is fucked into you. Some of it dribbling around his cock and down your quivering thighs, it’s a few short minutes before he stops and pants for air. 

You hiss when you feel Chris slip his cock from you asshole, his eyes watch your sloppy hole clench around nothing and is puffy from being overworked. He sits back against the sofa, dick now soft but wet and between his legs. He looks over to see you belly down on the sofa, one leg hanging off and on the floor. 

His dick twitches when he sees his cum spilling out of your ass, it’s going to stain his sofa but he doesn’t care right now. You look completely fucked out, but he can feel himself getting up for round two. Briefly wondering if you’d be up for another load in you. 

“How many of those bro favours do you give out?” He asked and he heard you chuckle, your shoulder shaking and pushing yourself up. 

“You’re the birthday boy, however many you want.”

(As a lesbian woman, I need to say, I’ve never had straight sex... I’ve watched gay porn, cause me and my friends LOVE to laugh at porn plots sometimes, so be nice to me... I’m not very adapt with sex stuff (unless its fxf) love you all- Rosalie)

#chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans x male reader #chris evans x male!reader #chris evans one shot #chris evans imagine #xmale reader #x male read #xmale

[villainousshakespeare]

Putting It Back Together Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Adam/OFC

Rated M (will probably change to E) - Grief, angst, eventual smut, mention of characters dead before the start of the story, blood, slow burn

Summary: Since the death of his beloved Eve, Adam had been barely living, only alive due to a promise he made to her. Then one night he meets his new neighbor, a woman dealing with grief of her own. Will they help each other heal or drive each other crazy?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @gorgeous1974 @maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1​ @poetic-fiasco​ @shiningloki​ @dangertoozmanykids101​ @bookworm-christina​ @thecutestlittlebunbunfairy​ @amwolowicz​ @delightfulheartdream​ @frostbitten-written​ @what-a-flammable-heart​ @tom-hlover​ @nonsensicalobsessions​ @myraiswack​

If you would like on or off the tag list, please let me know!

Hunched over his desk, Adam scowled at the blank staff on the music composition page before him. In his mind he could hear the notes that he had composed two nights ago but when he tried to concentrate and write them down they refused to stay clear in his brain. Twice already he had crumpled up the dried out old paper and hurled it across the room. Now, after his pen scratched through another mistake, he swept the entire pile of paper off the desk.

Leaning back in his wingchair, he glared across the room. It was all the fault of that thing. There against the wall, clashing with his dark hued room, sat a garishly bright neon yellow tool bag. It was not just that it was an eye sore, though that was bad enough. Really, who in their right mind would purchase anything so hideous? It was the knowledge that it belonged to her. That horrid, sobbing girl who had cried all over him last night.

Adam suppressed a shiver as he remembered it. She had clung to him like a python, face buried in his chest has he flailed to find a way to calm her. He had been so startled by the way she melted into him he had not known what to do. He was no longer, he realized, used to experiencing any form of physical contact.

She was tiny. That had been his first, irrelevant observation. Her watery face had only come up to the middle of his chest. She was also surprisingly warm. Holding her felt so different, so very different than holding Eve had felt. His late wife had been nearly as tall as he was, and like him she lacked the blood pumping through her veins to warm her in the night air.

Blood. That was the next, unshakable realization. She was full of throbbing, pulsing blood. Adam could sense it coursing through her, adding a flush to her face and a beat to the chest pressed against his stomach. With her hair piled as it was on top of her head he could see clearly the blue tinted vein running down her long neck. Staring at it, he felt his animal side begin to stir within him.

It had been ten years since Adam had eaten from a living person. On that desperate night in Tangier it had been a matter of life or death, him or the young woman unfortunate enough to cross his path when he was literally starving. He had turned the girl, and Eve had done the same to her lover. They had given them immortality, curse or gift depending on your mindset. In the end, it hadn't mattered. Both of them had died along with Eve when tainted blood had been sold to them. Adam would have been dead too, had he not been out scouring a rare bookshop for a gift for his beloved.

Years later, the proximity of a carotid artery, just there for the taking, caused a physical sensations within him. Adam could feel his fangs fighting to descend. Alarmingly, he could also feel his cock hardening in his jeans. Live feeding was not the only thing he had gone without for years. The small woman in his arms, so helpless and so unaware of her peril, was all but begging to be devoured in all sorts of ways. He could imagine tearing away her clothes and sinking into her, first his cock then his fangs, as he satisfied his cravings upon her unsuspecting body. Had Adam been other than what he was, had he not had all of those centuries with Eve to civilize him, she would have been done for.

Instead, he had clumsily patted her on the back, eyes rolling in his head as he did so. He could not quite bring himself to mouth the platitudes he knew she would expect of him, but he did his best to bite back the sarcasm that was his defensive habit. She had lost someone herself, and while the pain of losing someone known only for one short lifetime could never compare to the loss he had suffered, it still touched a chord within him. He knew the deep, unending pain of love taken too soon.

When at last she had managed to breath regularly again, Adam had quickly walked her back to the hatch that led to her own home. She had uttered a ceaseless string of apologies that he neither wanted nor needed, and he had mumbled something inane in return, sounding for all the world like just another zombie. The relief he felt when he shut the hatch behind her had almost brought him to his knees. And yet...

She had been so very warm. So warm and so alive. Irritating and encroaching, yes, but her questions about his electric system had been intelligent, and her observations startlingly apt. He was used to zombies being disinterested, focused so inward on their own petty problems that they didn't see what was right in front of their faces.

Her face had been pretty, the thought ran through his head. A little older than he had expected at first, though they all seemed young to him. Big eyes, full lips, high, almost elfin cheekbones.

With a growl, Adam stood up and stalked over to the offensive yellow tool bag. He should have left it up on the roof. She would have realized it was missing eventually and gone back up for it. But the skies had looked threatening, and he didn't want her tools to rust. It was a matter of conservation, he assured himself. Not wanting to do something nice for a zombie. Certainly not that.

He obviously was not going to be able to concentrate with the hideous thing in his home. He would take it back over to her. The home she lived in had a double style doorway; if he was lucky the outer door would be open and he could leave it between them. No need to see her again. The last thing he needed was to be dragged into another encounter with her.

Pulling his leather jacket on without bothering with a shirt, Adam grabbed the tool bag and headed for his front door. Best to get this over with. Yanking open the door in his rush, he collided with something soft and with a shock watched the very person he had been hoping to avoid fall backwards off of his front stoop.

"Fuck!" she yelped, as she toppled down.

Adam blinked as she looked up at him from the ground where she sat inelegantly on her ass.

"Are you alright?" he asked as sense returned to him.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine," she smiled unconvincingly at him. "Luckily I don't have too far to fall."

"I was going out and didn't expect you to be there," he mumbled.

He heard the accusation in his voice, but didn't seem to be able to help it. What the hell had she been doing there?

"Of course not," she blushed. "Um... would you mind?"

She held out her hand and Adam gasped. Her palm was scratched from breaking her fall, and a small pattern of blood was beading up on the skin. Instinctively he took a step back at the same time his head moved forward with a will of its own. The woman looked at him with confusion, and he forced himself calm down. Why the fuck hadn't he put on gloves?

Working hard to control the trembling of his hands, he reached out and helped her to stand. Hyper aware of the siren call of her blood he pulled his hands back as fast as he possibly could, hoping she didn't notice the way they trembled. Fortunately for him she seemed too concentrated on her own discomfort.

"Did you want something?" he asked brusquely when she had gotten her balance back.

"Not really. Well, I mean, yes. To... to apologize. For last night. For crying all over you. Sorry."

"No need," he told her "Forget about it. I have."

"Oh. Well, okay then," she stood for a moment worrying at her lower lip, and he noticed again how full her mouth was. "Were you going somewhere?"

"Out," he said tersely, old habits dying hard. As he saw her flinch, he made his tone soften. "Actually, I was going to see you."

"Really?" he eyes lit up, and Adam felt a panic that he could not place.

"Yes. You left this on the roof last night. I thought you might want it back."

"Oh," she said again, face falling once more. "Thanks."

"Think nothing of it," he said, grimacing. Why was she just standing there? "Well, see you."

"Yeah," she blinked up at him.

"Alright then."

Honestly, wasn't she ever going to move? Giving up, Adam gave her the closest he could muster to a half smile and turned back inside, shutting the door behind him in her face.

Only when the wood was solid between them did he shakily raise his hand in front of his face. There, crimson in the dim light of his apartment, was a smear of her blood. Unable to control himself any longer, he brought his hand to his mouth and desperately sucked the sticky liquid off, moaning with the taste of it. So fresh, so pure, so sweet.

Falling back on the sofa conveniently behind him, he realized he was hard again. Licking to make sure he had gotten every last drop, he stroked himself with his other hand. If he was picturing a certain set of wide eyes and lush lips, it was only because their owner's blood was still hot in his mouth. There could not possibly be any other reason.

***

Well, that had been an unmitigated disaster.

Lilly held the bag of frozen peas to her ass and tried not to dwell on how thoroughly she had humiliated herself. If that was an example of her improving her image she obviously needed to never leave the house again. She was not fit to be around other people. Certainly not fit to be around someone so flawless as her neighbor.

Good lord, when he had walked out the door and into her, it was like being hit with a load of bricks. Lying there on her backside staring up at him, Lilly had been almost stuck dumb by the sight. She had thought he was beautiful from a distance, or in the dark light of the roof. Standing as he was in a halo of porch light he was almost god-like. It did not help that his black leather jacket was parted to reveal a very well muscled chest and abdomen. Lilly's eyes traveled the length of him from the bob of his adam's apple, over his defined pecs and six pack, and down to the thin trail of hair and the vee that drew her eyes past the edge of his low slung jeans.

Sweet bajeebas, but he was perfect. She was hardly the same species. What had she been thinking?

The playing began sometime later that night, around midnight. Lilly was hunched of a jigsaw puzzle she had found in a cupboard. Her Grandmother had loved to do them, and Lilly had caught the bug. She had lost count of the number of nights she had stayed up obsessively putting them together, unable to go to bed until she had found just one more piece, only to see the sun rise as she finished it.

The wail of a guitar came through the wall, sounding plaintive and introspective. Lilly had been drawn to all of the music she had heard from him so far. His melodies were complex, and he seemed to favor minor keys. Her Grandmother would have liked it as well. No doubt she had enjoyed hearing the strains come through the thin walls. Certainly she would have preferred it to the fighting and drunken antics of the students that had always assailed them before.

Lilly found herself humming along to his playing. She loved music, even if she was self-conscious of her voice. Having a Grandmother who had made a career of crooning songs in smoky clubs made her all too aware of her own deficiency.

There was something so comforting about music. It was almost mathematical in the way it worked. Patterns created and repeated, only to be subverted and return in a new and unexpected ways. If the composer was good, that was. Her neighbor was very good.

Of course he would be good. God forbid he be less than perfect at anything.

So when he kept reaching the end of a delicate passage, only to end on a note that didn't quite resolve the phrase. Lilly could hear the frustration in his fingers clearly through the layers of sheet rock that separated them. At first it amused her; so he was fallible after all. Good. She allowed herself to take a superior pleasure in his failure.

By the time it was approaching two in the morning, she was ready to scream. She was over halfway done with her puzzle - a scene of Paris at night, all lit up - but was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. Her gorgeous, grouchy neighbor must have played through the piece a hundred times, and every time it ended wrong. It was driving her insane. He was so close to finishing it. Every time he hit the not quite right note she felt her entire body twitch. She could only imagine how he was feeling.

It started one more time. Lilly held her breath, willing him to find what was right there, waiting to be put in place. The final phrase started, she scrunched her face, waiting to hear it fixed. The note he played was achingly close, but not quite what the song cried out for.

"Half a step lower!" she screamed out, unable to resist any longer.

The music stopped. Everything went silent on the other side of the wall. Now she had done it. Lilly could see him, glaring at the wall with that intense, closed off set of blue eyes. She was inordinately happy now that a solid hunk of material kept them apart. Any hope of a friendship developing between her and her haughty crush had surely been dashed now. And all because she could not control her stupid impulses.

After a stretch that seemed like forever, a length of time where Lilly died and was forced back into existence repeatedly, the music started up again. She made herself a small lump in the corner of her sofa, as if somehow she could hide even though it was impossible for him to see her. If she could have fit below the cushions she would have.

He reached to end and after the slightest of pauses he played the note she had suggested. It sounded perfect. The chord rang out, slowly fading, and she felt a small smile fighting to exist on her lips.

The music stopped abruptly again, and for the rest of the night only silence greeted her through the wall between them.

#olla #olla fic #Adam #adam olla #Tom Hiddleston #Fic #fan fic #angst #vampires #mentions of death #grief #slow burn #eventual smut #pining #crush #music #romance #some swearing

[bellamybellamyblake]

Six Years (Part 3)

Pairing:

Past/Eventual Bellamy Blake x Fem!Kane!Reader, Platonic!Octavia Blake

Summary:

Octavia knew who she was now, but you couldn’t figure out what the hell you’d become.

Warning: 

so much mf angst, themes of addiction and depression, self-destructive behavior and a tiny bit of comfort in there

Word Count:

2k (i got a little ~carried away~ lol)

A/N:

IM SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG. i wasn’t happy with the og thing i had down so i literally just rewrote the whole thing in a few hours and it’s sm better than it would’ve been. me holding off posting this did wonders and i’m more confident in it too even tho i kinda think i suck at writing but also kinda don’t idk my self esteem varies wildly

Merry Christmas Eve Eve to those who celebrate ❤️

the gif (and all the other ones) are not mine and i take no credit for them

if you want to be tagged in any of my works, send me a message or an ask and i’ll add you :)

@shipshipshipau

The girl with aqua eyes - although now they were more of a spotted gray - had only seen one moment of weakness from you. It would be the last time Octavia had seen you, and you, her. 

“We’re surviving!” She had started shouting, as if she believed that set in a lower tone, her words would be construed as lies. “The human race is surviving! That’s what matters!”

“He wouldn’t be okay with this, and you know it!” Your voice broke involuntarily as it rose to match hers. You shook your head as you tried to desperately stop the ache in your chest as you brought her - probably dead - brother up. Tears clung to your eyelashes, waiting for you to blink so they had permission to fall. Your throat had been closed for a while now, and the rest was merely a weak cry. “If this is the price that we have to pay...maybe we shouldn’t be.”

You’d never know if it was the crack in your demeanor or your choice of words, but either way, her eyes softened when you spoke.

“Look at me.” You did as told and she gripped the back of your neck in one hand, pulling your forehead so close it almost came into contact with hers.

The air changed as Octavia came alive under the monster she wore for armor. Her mask coming off allowed you to let out a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. You would begin to regret not smashing the helmet to bits while it was off and vulnerable.

“You have to stop listening to them,” She said. “It’ll tear you apart. It’s better they get to live to hate us than die slowly and love us-”

“They don’t deserve this either, O-”

“We bare it, so they don’t have to. You’re the one that told me that. You can’t back out on me, now. I can’t do this without you.”

For so long you were okay with her needing you to do the dirty work. Besides the first time - when you did it together - she’d give the sentence and you’d see it through. Every single time, it felt like it was killing you more than them, but that didn’t matter, did it? If you weren’t going to do it, who would?

It was the last thing Octavia had asked of you and you had no intention of letting her down.

Bellamy didn’t know what he would see when they finally dropped him down into the bunker, but it definitely wasn’t that. Surrounded by more death than he was prepared for, he couldn’t help himself to not move his gaze around the arena. The fences between him and the living reminded him of the cages the Mountain Men held him in. The walls were stained deep with crimson, leaving the dull concrete behind it unrecognizable. He looked to the blonde at his side, and they asked each other the same silent question:

What the hell happened down here?

His whiskey shaded orbs kept moving, albeit reluctantly. They stopped on Marcus Kane, who looked so much older than last time. His hair and beard were inches longer and grayer than the natural brown he used to have. He was so pale, it was unnerving - almost as if he was close to death. They connected eyes briefly and that’s when the younger saw the deadly weapon held to his neck by the hands of-

No.

Your back was facing him, but it didn’t matter how long it had been, he’d never miss you. The locks that adorned your head were longer too, almost to your waist. The natural shade was faded though, like you had aged twenty years instead of six. He watched your shoulders heave and your hands start to shake as Kane talked to you.

He couldn’t pull his eyes from the impure red that dyed your skin and clothes.

While you were distracted, he chose to act, protecting Marcus from his own flesh and blood. He didn’t miss the gears in your head turning as your gaze landed on him. He saw your eyes sink into a trance of recognition and a deep sort of longing overtook your senses. The melancholic need you had tried to numb for half a decade came back in full force and held no mercy.

You remembered how he always smelled of the forest after the sky wept. You remembered how sure but gentle his touch was on your skin. You remembered how his remarkably soft lips would feel when they pushed against yours as they begged for more at every turn. You remembered how it felt to be wrapped in his arms, listening to his heart thump as he assured you everything would be alright, even if he didn’t think it would be.

Was that gone forever, now, too?

Bellamy noticed something else, though; something he didn’t recognize. Something he’d never seen before.

Something that scared him.

It had been hours since and neither of you had bothered to find the other. Getting everyone out was a great distraction for him. Talking to his little sister, whose eyes seemed to hold the same thing yours did, was another.  She had explained to him and Clarke that Wonkru had deemed her Bloodreina and you, Ripa. So, no, nothing as special as death from above or the red queen or the commander of death, but death, nonetheless.

People have done well not to forget that.

When Clarke told him you still hadn’t come out and no one had seen you, however, he didn’t have a choice anymore.

The halls were those of nightmares, spirits lurking around every corner and it was cold and empty. He knew the lights were kept low to save power but it felt almost purposeful, like they were meant to scare you. To tell you not to act out or some kind of monster would jump from the shadows and make you pay.

But he didn’t know if it was you or his sister.

A chill slithered up his spine.

If someone told him this wasn’t real, he’d do anything he could to believe them. He wished that he was seconds away from being shaken awake by Raven or Monty, and they would tell him it was just another nightmare. He wished he was still on the Ring, praying ignorantly to anyone that would listen that his family on earth were still okay. 

Breaking him from his thoughts, a yellow lamplight caught his attention. At the end of the windowless corridor, it shone out of a slightly ajar door. Using every ounce of strength he possessed to not walk away, he pushed it open. It cried at the motion, diminishing any and all remnants of silence that swallowed the floor.

His eyes found you catching yourself from falling caused by a failed attempt at standing. A half empty bottle of whatever works in one hand, the other one holding you up against the bed frame. The high-pitched creak pulled your attention to the front of the room with a furrowed brow and he allowed himself to take in your appearance.

A wrinkled, cotton shirt sat on your chest and it was a different one than before; faded white and thin, yet cleaner than the other one which was colored with blood. Your hair was damp - the result of taking a shower - but lazily tied back in a half-assed effort to get it out of your face.

You stared at each other for a minute. A million things were hitting your slow-moving thoughts at once, too much for you to even try to comprehend. He finally took one step towards you, parting his lips to say something but no sound came out. He was stumped, hundreds of words flooded his mind but not a single one sounded good enough.

Nothing he could say would make what happened in the arena okay.

It was unbearably painful. There he was, finally right in front of you, and you had no idea what to talk about. No idea what to start with, end with, bring up, discuss, laugh about, cry about, scream about. Nothing was good enough to say to the man that kept you alive for such a long time, such a long time ago. 

Too long ago.

You inevitably broke the silence, though your words came out cracked and in a slur. A defensive and humorless scoff left your lips, an effort to cover up the discomfort. Or it was because you were too drunk to shut yourself up. “You gonna say somethin’?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

You didn’t know why, but you hoped he’d sound different. It was childish and irrational, but you hoped that you could say you both changed too much and he would have nothing to hold against you.

Because no matter how far away it seemed, sometimes you could still remember what it felt like to be that innocent seventeen-year-old that hadn’t lived yet; what it felt like to be that girl who still couldn’t stand her father. To be that girl who sprained her ankle within ten minutes of being on earth for the first time. To be that girl who hadn’t made a friend aside from Clarke and Wells in her whole life. That girl who had just kissed a boy for the first time.

The girl who was loved and not lost yet.

“Well, that makes two of us.”

Where the hell did she go?

That made the room spin, and you had to blink a few times to make it stop, taking a seat on the thin mattress. You took a drink, making the liquid slosh from the base to the neck of the bottle and back again. When it settled, you rested your head between your shoulders as you heard him say your name. It bounced off the walls in the room, hitting each one again, and again, and again like it was a bullet waiting to find its target. You had wanted the word to fall from his lips for so long that you’d forgotten what it sounded like. You had forgotten what he sounded like, and you fucking hated yourself for it.

Then you realized he said, “Ripa,” and those four deadly little letters crushed your throat and stole the air from your lungs.

That name hadn’t felt right from the start, but it was what you had been simultaneously promoted to and reduced by. The only person who refused to call you that over the years, was your father. For two thousand days, he made sure to steer clear of it.

That’s not who you are and I know it, even if you don’t.

A sudden and hauntingly raw sob escaped, and you knew his eyes were on you in an instant.

“Don’t call me that,” You begged, meeting his gaze for the first time since he entered. Breath picking up, you were practically terror-stricken at the idea that all you were to him now was a murderer. You vigorously tried to shake the thought away, squeezing your eyes shut as everything that kept you numb seemed to vanish into thin air. “Y-You can’t-Not you too. Please, not you.”

Bellamy’s hand brushed your cheek and tears rained freely. You immediately leaned into the familiar and delicate warmth and you really fucking hoped this wasn’t your mind playing a trick on you.

“It’s okay, Y/N.” When he spoke this time, his words sounded choked too. His other hand cradled the back of your head as he pulled you into his chest and just...held you. “It’s okay.”

It was like you were standing at the edge of a building, teetering the edge before accidentally falling. Only, before you could plummet to your death, someone caught your hand, and it occurred to you that you really wanted them to pull you back up.

“Please don’t leave me again.”

Your voice was just so, so weak. Beaten down and broken.

“Never.” He said it with so much confidence and finality, you almost had to convince yourself it was real and not a dream. “I promise.”

#the 100 #bellamy blake #octavia blake #bellamy blake x reader #bellamy blake x imagine #bellamy blake angst #bellamy blake oneshot #bellamy x you #bellamy x reader #the 100 bellamy #octavia blake x reader #the 100 octavia #bob morley #marie avgeropoulos #bellarke #linctavia #beliza #clarke griffin #john murphy #raven reyes #bellamy x clarke #bellamy blake x clarke griffin #anti becho #eliza taylor #marcus kane #murphamy #murven

[the-winter-smoulder]

What The Hell...

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Chapter Word Count: 1056

Warnings: Language! Mentions of Death, Panic Attack, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angsty Goodness

Seriously... What the HELL?!

Since the defeat of Thanos, nothing has really been the same, especially not for Sam and Bucky.

Read Chapter 19 Here

Chapter 20: What The Hell Do You Want?

There was a knock on Bucky’s door, walking across the room to answer.

“Done already, doll?” he asked, smiling and opening the door

“Do you call all women doll, or just me?” Aurora asked.

“No. Just Y/n. What the hell do you want?” he spat out, glaring at her.

“Aww, I just wanna be friends, Bucky. C’mon, it could be really fun, you and me, getting chummy,” she said, leaning on the door frame, smirking at him.

“I have half a mind to slam this door right in your face, Aurora.”

“You’re right, Bucky. You do only have half a mind, don’t you? What happened to the other half?”

“Fuck off, Aurora,” he growled, starting to close the door.

“Bucky, c’mon. I just wanna be friends. Really, really good friends.”

“I don’t wanna be friends with you. You smell like trouble, Aurora. I want no part of that.”

“You’re smelling me too, Bucky? Seems a little forward, but...”

“I’m really not in the mood for your games, Aurora. I don’t trust you. I want you to leave me alone. You’re sniffing around the wrong guy.”

“Do you know the extent of my powers, Bucky? Hmm?”

“No. I don’t care either. So, Aurora, kindly fuck off,” Bucky said, slamming the door in her face, pushing her backward into the hallway.

Aurora’s eyes went white, and she began moving her arms to try to tear the door down with her power, but she was caught by two large hands.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bruce said, “I could tear you in half in a fraction of a second.”

The collar clamped around her neck, and her eyes flicked back to normal. She looked to her left to see Clint with an arrow trained on her head, and Y/n coming around the corner, eyes wild.

“You bitch!” she screamed, lunging at Aurora.

Sam caught her around the waist, “No, Y/n. Not like this. Not here.”

Y/n struggled against him. Bucky’s door flew open, and he caught her as she broke free from Sam.

“Y/n, sweetheart, no. It won’t make you feel any better,” he whispered into her ear as he held her back.

It finally struck her that Bucky was unharmed. Y/n looked him in the eyes and felt the tears begin to well up.

“Pfft - you’re gonna cry now? Mewling bit-”

Wanda punched Aurora square in the jaw, her eyes red, fist surrounded with energy.

“Wanda!” Y/n yelled; eye wide with shock.

“What? She pissed me off.”

A smile crept across Y/n’s face and she started to laugh.

“Don’t worry, I’ll carry her down to her cell,” Bruce said sarcastically.

“Oh, good! You’re taking out the trash,” Clint quipped, lowering his bow.

     -----💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀-----

“Holy shit,” Bucky said, sitting back in an office chair.

“Yeah. I finally put two and two together while I was interrogating Headlok. He didn’t have her chained up, that was for our benefit. He wanted us to trust her,” Y/n said, grabbing his hand, “I’m so sorry, Bucky.”

“For what? They played us all.”

“Not you,” Clint said, “You knew she was bad news.

“Well, I mean, my gut isn’t always right.”

“Well, it was this time,” Sam said.

“So, who’s going to interrogate her?” Y/n asked.

“Not you!” Sam and Bruce said in unison.

“Ha! I wasn’t suggesting me,” Y/n laughed.

“I’ll do it,” Wanda said, “I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say to me.”

“Wanda, you knocked her ass out. There's no way she’s talking to you,” Sam said. “Clint and I will do it. We’re the only two who didn’t ruffle her feathers too much.”

“Dude, did you just make your own bird joke?” Bucky laughed.

“Shut up. C’mon, Clint. Let’s go talk to this crazy lady and see what we can get out of her.”

Sam and Clint walked out of the conference room toward the holding cells.

“Maybe you should get some rest, Y/n,” Bruce said, giving her that you poor thing smile.

“I’m not tired.”

“Y/n,” Wanda started.

“I’m fine, I just... I have too much energy right now. I won’t be able to sleep.”

“Come on, doll. Let’s go to the gym. You can take it out on a punching bag,” Bucky suggested, standing and pulling her up with him, leading her out of the room.

“The gym, Bucky?”

“Yes. The gym.”

“You don’t want a different kind of work out?”

“Ha! Of course I do, Y/n, but I also don’t want to hurt you if I get too rough,” he smiled, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

“Are you forgetting that I'm part Super Soldier too?” she replied, coy as a kitten.

“Sweetheart, you’re going to give me a heart attack!” he said, pulling her close, “Besides, it’s really hot when you beat the shit out of things. I wouldn’t mind seeing a bit of that first.”

“Okay, but let me put on my skimpiest, tightest workout clothes first,” she winked, giving him a soft kiss on the lips.

“Oh, you really are going to kill me, aren’t you?”

“Never,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, “But I was afraid Aurora would.”

“Y/n. That crazy bitch couldn’t hurt me.”

“Bucky! She can use molecular acceleration to literally tear things apart! A strong enough concussive blast could kill any one of us! I...”

“Sweetheart. Calm down. She didn’t get that far because you’re smart and put it all together. You saved me, doll.”

“But what if I hadn’t? She was getting ready to do some damage.”

“She’d have ripped the door off the hinges, and I would have had time to react. Besides, we can’t play the ‘what if’ game. It’ll drive us crazy. Look at me, doll,” he said, lifting her chin with his finger. “It’s okay. That's not what’s important now. I’m okay. You’re okay. We’re okay. I love you, Y/n. I’m not letting you go down this path.”

The tears that had been stinging her eyes finally fell.

“Bucky... I can’t lose you. It would kill me,” she sobbed into his chest.

“You didn’t, and I’m going to try my damnedest so you never will, sweetheart,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her in even tighter for a long hug.

“Can we just go to bed? Just hold each other?” she whispered.

“Anything you want, doll. Anything for you.”

Chapter 21

     -----💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀💥🌀-----

Tag List

@sebastiansqueen​

@katiekate23​

@chipilerendi

@juenenfeu

@leosandbuckysgirl

@kcd15

@ace-of-spaids2

@lillyjay45

@twinerd14

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barns x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky fanfic

[maybankiara]

I’LL BE MAKING MY OWN WAY NOW

pairing: JJ Maybank x Reader

summary: Some girls from the Kook Academy are messing with you, and JJ makes you stand up for yourself.

word count: 2.5k

warning: bullying

additional: a bit of angst and a bit of fluff. sorry if there’s any typos - i’ve been trying to get through this for about a week now and i can’t bring myself to proofread.

masterlist

tag list

written for an anon

It’s not a big deal, you tell yourself, day after day. People have the right to not like you, or dislike you, and they also have the right to show it. Standing up to them would be no good – they’d only treat you worse, much like they did when this whole thing started, before it became a running joke between the Kook Academy’s worst.

  So you keep your head down, even though their taunts are echoing the street. What’s up, dyke? Jesus, Jeanie, something stinks like rotten fish. You keep walking, your training bag on your shoulder, and you let your hair out of the ponytail. It’s filled with sweat and dirt from the football field and it’s a mess, but at least it hides your face from them.

  Must be the Pogue. It’s the universe telling them they should stick to fishing and getting our stuff. You keep walking, and you hear them moving a few feet behind you, in their brand new Cadillac convertible. I wish they would sort the trash. Keep it off our side of the island, at least.

  Your teeth clench as your tongue threatens to snap back, and get you into more trouble. Just a little longer and they’ll leave you – they always do.

  At the sight of the first house that marks the Cut, a big building that was once a local restaurant and is now more of a shrieking shack, you straighten your back. You tie your hair back into the ponytail, too, because you know if they were to confront you on your territory, things wouldn’t end well for them.

  ‘I’m bored, Jeanie,’ one of the girls says, drawling out the other’s name. ‘Let’s go somewhere fun.’

  The car drives away and you flip them off as they get lost in the distance. There’s a reason why they don’t enter the Cut, and your friends’ reputation is one of them.

  Nobody messes with the Pogues.

  From there, it takes you about fifteen minutes to get to your house. You get changed quickly, jump into the shower, and you’re out of it as fast as possible. It’s a hot day and although you wish you could do your makeup, it’s the height of summer in the Outer Banks and you’re not a Touron who believes her makeup wouldn’t melt. You stick to just covering up your blemishes, and focus on your outfit, instead (you’d focus on your hair, but with the humidity in the air, what’s the point?).

  this is me, you think as you face the reflection in the mirror. A bikini top with a sheer blouse over it, denim shorts and black sneakers. Simple, sporty, and kegger-appropriate.

  You arrive to the Chateau on time, just as you promised. Kiara’s the first to see you and she waves at you, overseeing the boys putting a keg into John B’s van.

  ‘Hello,’ you greet them, placing a kiss to JJ’s cheek. ‘You guys done?’

  ‘You’re just in time to not need to do anything at all.’ JJ pulls you into a hug. His arms feel like home, and you let yourself relax into them – it relieves some of the tension you didn’t even know was there. ‘How was your day?’

  ‘Good.’

  JJ pulls back and frowns, having noticed you pointedly not looking at him. ‘Yeah?’

  You smile, offhandedly, and turn to help Pope and John B push the last keg into the van, what JJ was previously doing. ‘I’m fine, JJ.’

  He doesn’t buy it, but he’s got half a mind not to push it while you’re with all of your friends. JJ puts a hand at the small of your back instead, looking at you with his eyebrows ever so slightly pointed up, and gives you the smallest of nods.

  I’m here for you, is what he’s saying.

  All you do is give him a chaste kiss on the lips, and go off with Kiara to get your hair done while the boys set up everything at the Boneyard. If anyone seems to notice the silent exchange between the two of you, they don’t bring it up – at least not in front of you.

  Kiara’s hands are swift and competent when flowing through your hair. What you asked for was “anything that’ll keep my hair out of my face” and she decided that meant “an elaborate braid with some strands pulled out a bit to make it look messy and loose”.

  You don’t mind, though – it looks good, halfway through.

  ‘So,’ Kiara begins. ‘You’re a bit quiet today.’

  ‘I’m just tired. Practice was more draining than usual, and I just can’t wait to relax at the party.’

  You see her pout in the mirror, giving you a look that means she can see right through you. ‘You sure it’s just that?’

  A reassuring smile appears on your lips. ‘Yeah, Kie. It’s all good.’

  Kiara nods, focusing back on your hair. ‘Everything’s fine between you and JJ, right? I saw what happened earlier, I hope you know you can talk to me about anything.’

  ‘Oh my god, no! Is that what it looked like?’ You sigh, rubbing your forehead before Kiara slaps your hand away, telling you you’re going to ruin your hairstyle. ‘JJ and I are great, don’t worry about that, at all. I just had a kind of a bad day, is all.’

  She sighs and you can tell it’s relief. ‘Shit, I’m glad I don’t need to go all Mama Pogue on your asses.’

  Both of you break into laughter. It relieves the tension that you feel in your shoulders, and things seem a little less daunting when you realise how the whole situation must’ve looked like to everyone else.

  But there’s a thought that comes with that realisation – ‘Do you think JJ thinks it was about him?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ admits Kiara. ‘You should probably go talk to him once we’re at the Boneyard.’

  You nod, because Kiara’s right. It ends up being all you can think about until it’s half an hour later, the party is officially underway and JJ is catching up with some friends while you’re just chilling with the rest of the Pogues.

  It’s a humid and exceptionally hot day, as you assumed it would be, and it’s somehow making everything worse. You want to talk to JJ because it feels as if he’s been avoiding you a little bit, and the fact that you can literally feel the dampness of your skin is definitely not helping.

  Kiara shoots you a sympathetic smile, throwing a hand over your shoulder. ‘It’ll be okay.’

  ‘He’s avoiding me.’

  ‘It’s JJ,’ she reminds you. ‘He’ll last fifteen more minutes, tops.’

  As it turns out, you find JJ’s gaze on you less than ten minutes later, as you’re chatting to someone Touron whose makeup is already melting off her face.

  You smile at him, and wave, and he does the same. The moment you see him bidding the group goodbye, already half-way to you, you excuse yourself and make a beeline for him.

  He’s sweaty when you pull him into a hug, but so are you, and it only makes everything sticky but funny. You smile, laughing a little. His eyebrows shoot up.

  ‘We’re both very sticky,’ you explain, still grinning.

  JJ rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. His hands are resting on your waist and you don’t care that there’s dozens of people around you, doing whatever they are – it’s just the two of you right now.

  Some of the hairs that Kiara pulled out of your braid are now sticking to your face, and JJ pulls them behind your ear.

  ‘Did I do something?’

  You shake your head. ‘No. I’m sorry I made you feel that way. I had a bad day and I just didn’t want you to worry about it.’

  He sighs, relieved, just like Kiara did. ‘This was the worst hour of my life.’

  ‘You could’ve asked!’

  ‘It didn’t seem like you wanted to talk about whatever it was!’

  ‘Well, I didn’t,’ you agree. At this, he quirks his head to the side, and you kind-of prove your point. Playfully, you smack his chest and wriggle your way out of his hands. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Jumping-To-Conclusions.’

  ‘Oh, shut up.’ He takes your hand and pulls you back close, pressing a kiss against your lips. His fingers are rubbing your palm. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’

  You let your shoulders fall again, biting your lip. Of course, you’d love nothing more than to talk about the reason why you fucking hate the Kooks and why they make your life a living hell at times, but it’s just that Jeanie and Denise, the girls from earlier, are just now getting beer from Pope at the keg.

  So you shake your head, intent on not talking about it.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anymore,’ you tell JJ, looking away from the girls. ‘I’m over it.’

  But JJ knows you, and he glances at Pope and the two Kooks, and when you see his lips pressed together, you know he’s connected the dots.

  ‘JJ—’

  ‘Is it them again? Are they bullying you?’

  You sigh. His eyes are drilling into yours, and you feel him stiffen. ‘It’s fine, J, honestly. It’s not a big deal.’

  He shakes his head. ‘No, it is. It’s not okay. Why are you letting them run all over you?’

  ‘I’ve got no other choice.’

  ‘That’s bullshit,’ he tells you, and you know it’s true. ‘You’re not someone who takes shit from others, especially not Kooks. This has been happening for way too long for there not to be some other reason.’

  You look down, at your feet; if it wasn’t for JJ holding you in place with his hands resting on your waist, you probably would’ve stepped back.

  It’s not something that should be embarrassing, but it is. ‘I worked so hard to get into the club. Coach was hesitant on taking someone from the Cut. I’ve been under the magnifying glass ever since I joined. One wrong thing, I’m out, back to square one.’

  ‘Is that why?’ he asks. ‘What does that have to do with the Kooks?’

  You laugh, but there’s no joy in it. You shake your head at JJ’s obliviousness – he’s the last person you expected to be so naive. ‘Everything. If I stand up for myself, they’ll come up with something to get me off the team, and I’ll love everything, JJ.’

  ‘How can you be so sure?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He cups your face, smiling at you with warmth in his eyes. ‘You’re not a part of the team because you’re from the Cut, or whatever. It’s because you’re a good soccer player. No one can take that away from you.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘There’s no “but”s, Y/N. If you let them walk all over you, they won’t stop doing it. I don’t think they’ll say anything, but even if they do, you’ve got nothing to worry about.’

  You nod, relaxing into his touch. ‘Are you sure?’

  JJ hesitates. ‘No,’ he admits, ‘but are you really going to keep letting them fuck up your life?’

  he’s right, you realise. This can’t go on.

  So you nod again, kiss him, and promise him you’ll stand up for yourself next time.

  What you don’t expect is that the next time would come just a few short hours later, with either Jeanie or Denise—both names are so pretentious and stupid that you don’t know which is which—making a remark about the way you look tonight.

  ‘Whores from the cut, you can tell from the braids and the exposed boobs.’ She says it to a guy who’s chatting with her, a mere dozen feet away from you, JJ, and Kiara, loud enough so that all of you hear it.

  Loud enough that JJ hears it.

  He whips his body around, walking up to the two before you get to stop him. ‘What did you just say?’

  You follow suit, a hand on his bicep. ‘JJ.’

  The girl chuckles, throwing her head back in laughter. She points a finger at JJ then you, then back to JJ. ‘You need a guard now?’

  ‘Bitch—’

  ‘JJ!’

  He looks to you and his eyes are full of rage. His chest is rising up and down frantically; your thumb moves across his bicep, calming him down. You give him a look that says this is my fight and he relaxes, as much as he can.

  ‘Great,’ says the girl. ‘Discipline your dog.’

  If JJ takes a step back, you take a step closer to her until you’re almost in her face. She’s about your height, a big bigger, and could likely easily take you down in a fight if she wanted to – but there’s more to you than just your build.

  ‘Say that one more time,’ you order through gritted teeth.

  She doesn’t. She takes a step back instead, quivering before you. ‘Fucking psycho.’

  ‘No, you don’t get to be a bitch to me anymore. I’ve had enough of you and your fucking clique. I don’t give a shit what you say.’

  ‘What, because you got your dog to bite for you?’

  ‘Oh, I assure you, I take my own bites,’ you tell her, grinning slightly. ‘By the way, don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at him. Are you jealous? Are you wishing he was yours instead of mine? Because that’s never going to happen.’

  ‘Go to hell.’

  You laugh. ‘Save me a spot.’

  She flips you off, in a grandiose manner, and you can’t help but shudder. This isn’t you – sure, you can stand up for yourself, but it’s never been like this.

  JJ takes hold of your hand and pulls you close. You relax at the feeling of his chest against yours, and your hands find their safe place on his back.

  ‘You were good,’ he tells you. ‘I was going to step in, but this was your fight.’

  You feel yourself start to shake, and JJ holds you a little tighter. ‘It was too much.’

  ‘They’re not going to bother you anymore.’

  Even if you don’t believe that just yet, you nod, because you feel like it’ll stop JJ from worrying about you. It doesn’t work – the moment you take a step back and he takes a look at your face, he tells you that you’re going back to the Chateau, at least for a bit.

  None of the Pogues question it – they’ve all seen the showdown. The Chateau is quiet when you come there, stepping off JJ’s motorcycle. It’s a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere at the beach, but it’s good.

  You feel like you needed a breather.

  JJ takes off his helmet and walks around the bike, wrapping an arm around your waist. You let him pull you into the hug and you rest your head against his shoulder, breathing uneven.

  ‘Thank you,’ you say, ‘for being there for me today.’

  He kisses your forehead. ‘Anything for my girl.’

   ★

tagging. @jjtheangel @teenwaywardasgardian @thelocalpogue @jjmaybanky @sacredto @chasefreakinstokes ​ @shawnssongs ​ @drewstarkey ​ @thatsme-johnbookerroutledge ​ @outrbank ​ @yourlocalauthor ​ @justawilddreamerchild ​ @activist-af ​

#jj maybank #outer banks #obx #outer banks fic #obx fic #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #f: obx #c: jj #my fic #my imagine #jj x reader

[softboywriting]

Christmas Together | Shawn Mendes

Summary: When you and Shawn head home for Christmas, you end up stuck in a snowstorm in a small town in the middle of the united states. With all flights grounded until further notice, the two of you will have to spend Christmas together at a bed and breakfast. This blizzard may just be the push that brings the two of you together with the help of a little Christmas magic. [fluff] [Christmas themed] [personal assistant to lovers au] [non au shawn]

Word Count: 6k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Traveling with Shawn for the holidays is never easy. He is possibly the busiest man you've ever worked for but you don’t mind because being with Shawn is just like being with someone you love, because, well, you do love him. Thanksgiving came and went, yours in the states not his, you don't go home for that holiday anyways. It's not a big deal for your family back home. Christmas is though and traveling three days before Christmas is a nightmare.

Things were going smoothly, you had a plan to get home before christmas. Things were going perfectly until the last minute. You had somehow gotten two tickets on a fully booked flight from Brazil to Canada. The plan is for you to fly straight to the Toronto airport, no layovers and from there you'll catch a cab home to New York. You're about an hour into the flight and you can feel some turbulence coming on. No big deal. Until the pilot announced an emergency landing somewhere in Iowa.

"Oh no...no no shit." You look out the window and see nothing but clouds. No doubt about it, you’ve flown directly into a storm system.

"What? It's fine, we're just going to be a little delayed." Shawn rubs your shoulder. "It's no big deal."

"No, it is." You lean your head back against the headrest. "My sister is having a baby today and I promised I'd be there. My whole family is going to be there for Christmas. She's the first of us to have a kid."

"Oh. You didn't tell me that."

You look over and Shawn looks concerned. He always has such a big heart for everyone, it’s one of the many reasons why you love him so much. "I didn't think you needed to know. It's not work related."

"Well yeah but I still care about you. I know I'm your job but like, I'm still a person who cares about you."

"I know...I know I usually tell you everything it's just been...I've been-"

Shawn lays his hand on yours and you look down at it, heart racing. "I've been difficult lately. I know and I'm sorry. Traveling and shows have been hectic the last few weeks. It's totally my fault you’re overwhelmed."

"No, Shawn it's fine. My job is to take care of all that stuff. I'm not- I shouldn't complain about it."

"So what's stressing you out if it's not me?"

"Everything about the christmas season. My sister having a kid, obviously but...mostly it’s that christmas sucks when you're single okay?"

Shawn's eyebrows shoot up. "Why?"

"Because every year I go home and my siblings all have their girlfriends and boyfriends or fiance's and shit and I'm the odd one out. Every year I become the center of attention at dinner, the butt of the joke during gift opening. It's just a pain in the ass being branded as the forever alone child in the family."

"Why is your family so mean?"

"They aren't. They don't mean their comments venmously, it's just little things that bug me. Little indirect jabs that remind everyone I'm single and I have been for a long time."

"Why are you single?"

You give him a blank stare. He couldn't be serious. He doesn't understand that he's the reason you can't be in a relationship? That your job of tailing him everywhere and managing his schedule and life is just as stressful on a relationship with someone for you as it is for him. "Shawn, I'm constantly traveling. When am I supposed to date? When am I supposed to meet someone?"

"Fuck." He groans and scrubs a hand over his face. "You're in the same boat as me. I didn’t even think of it like that."

"Yeah except I can't fly somewhere every time I have a few days off to see someone and make an attempt at one."

He shakes his head. "I've doomed you to be single. I'm putting you through the same stress I put myself through and it's not fair."

"It's not. But it's my job, and you have yours."

Shawn grabs your arm as the plan drops and shakes. "I'll make it up to you, I swear." His voice falters as the plane jerks violently.

You squeeze your eyes shut and he threads his fingers between yours, palm a little sweaty. "I don't see how but okay."

"If we make it through this I will do everything I can to get you a date."

"You're crazy Mendes."

"Yeah but you already knew that."

_____________________

The plane lands in one piece despite feeling like it was going to tear in half at any moment. As soon as you get to the airline club lounge you find out the flight is not just delayed but all flights are grounded for the next forty eight hours at least. Two days. You are definitely going to miss your sister's baby and you're possibly going to miss Christmas. As much as you don't want to deal with your family for the holiday, you're still going to miss them and you’re upset you might not be there.

"What're we going to do?" You ask as you slump into a chair beside Shawn. He looks over from his phone and you raise your eyebrows. "What are you doing?"

"I got a place to stay until we can get another flight."

"What? How? That's my job."

He chuckles and pockets his phone. "I can book a place. I know how to use the internet."

"Well yeah but- how? There was a hotel with rooms free this close to Christmas and during a storm?"

"Kind of. Every hotel I looked at was full but there is a bed and breakfast about half an hour from the airport that had a room."

You stand up and grab your bag and suitcase. "I'll call a car or taxi or something for us and-"

Shawn lays his hand on your shoulder. "I did that too. I got an Uber."

"Oh."

"You do absolutely everything for me. I figured I could return the favor since right now is really stressful for you."

"But it's my job...it's not a favor."

Shawn shakes his head and grabs his bags. "Come on, you need to relax. I read that this b'nb is super nice and the rooms have huge tubs. I know you like baths."

"What? How do you know that?"

"You travel with mini bath bombs in your shower bag and you always seek out the hot tub when we book a really nice hotel on tour." Shawn looks back and you jog to catch up to him. "I guess I’m a little observant?"

"What else have you observed?" You ask nervously, hoping he hasn’t caught on to the fact you have very real feelings for him. You’ve done your best to hide them for a long time.

Shawn holds open the door to the pick up lanes for you as you step out into the icy wind blowing snow everywhere. "Your favorite color is red."

"Why's that?"

"You rarely wear it but when you do, you are always more confident and you seem more comfortable. You always pick red when given a choice of things and your eyes always light up whenever I wear my red button down, so I know you must like the color at least."

"Maybe that's because it looks so good on you."

He smirks. "Oh yeah?"

"Mmhmm."

"Good to know." Shawn steps out into the snow and approaches a black car. "Come on, this is our ride."

_____________________

The bed and breakfast looks like a winter wonderland. It's decked out in decorated trees, wreaths, lights, the whole nine yards when the Uber driver pulls up. It has a little sign in the front that says Dover Inn. How Shawn found this place you have no idea. A short walk up to the front and you and Shawn are pushing your way through a heavy door into a small foyer that's been converted into a check in area.

"Hello!" An older woman with long dark hair says as she comes out of a back area. Her name tag says Judy. "Do you have reservations?"

"Yes, Mendes. We booked online." Shawn shakes snow off his hat by the door. "The first name is Peter."

"Ah, yes, here you are." Judy says, squinting at her laptop on the old wood countertop. "Let me go see that the room is ready. I'll be right back."

"Peter?" You ask, dusting your coat off. "Why'd you use your middle name?"

"I didn't want to draw attention to myself. You know how fans are, they always somehow find out where I'm staying."

"True. Smart, actually. But we're in the middle of nowhere Iowa in a town of probably a few thousand people during a snowstorm. I'm pretty sure that no fans are going to bum rush you out here."

"I wasn't taking the risk." Shawn pulls his hat back on and you shake your head at him.

"Mr. Mendes?" Judy says from the stairs behind the check in desk.

"Yes?"

"You booked a double room correct?"

"Yes."

The woman walks forward to the desk and types something into her laptop, chewing on her lower lip. "There is an error with room numbers on the site, the room you booked is a single room suite with a queen bed. We can refund you if you like. I'm so sorry."

"No," you lay your hand on Shawn's arm before he can say anything. "It's fine. We will take it."

Shawn gives you a look, silently asking if you're sure.

"You're sure?" The host asks, looking between you and Shawn. "I can at least give you a discount for the mistake."

"That will be fine, thank you." Shawn says softly and the host grabs your room keys.

On the way up the stairs you notice how beautiful this place really is. It's old, a historic building if you were to guess. A large manor like house of sorts at some time, but now converted to a bed and breakfast. Everything is decked out in Christmas, literally everything. Judy leads you to your room at the end of the hall and opens the door.

"We have pillows and blankets in the closet. There are heated blankets available on request. Breakfast is served at eight until nine every morning. If you need anything you can call the front desk by dialing star five five. Feel free to explore the inn, we have a large living room and the kitchen open to guests after ten in the morning. Can I get you anything right now?"

"No, thank you." You smile as you look around the gorgeous room. It's huge and spacious. There is a fireplace in the center of the far wall, lounge chairs flanking it with a small tree decorated in the corner. A large queen-size bed with a huge bed frame and two dark wood dressers sit against the opposite wall. There is a door on the left of the entrance for the bathroom and the right for the closet. It's incredible.

Shawn drops his bag on the floor by the closet and pushes his suitcase and guitar case up against it. "You're fine with sharing a bed?"

"Yeah? Should I not be?"

"Well I mean isn’t it a little...intimate?"

You laugh. "Shawn, I've been your assistant for almost two years now. I'm pretty sure that I can survive sharing a bed for two nights with you. It's just like sharing your bed with your best friend when they sleep over." You drop your own bag by the closet. "Don't worry about it." You say this, but honestly you’re not sure how you’re going to fare. Being close to Shawn is one thing, but sharing a bed is a special kind of intimate, whether sexual or not, you worry about how you’ll be able to keep your cool.

Shawn takes off his coat and flops down on the bed. "I'm sorry you're missing your sister's baby."

You hang your own coat and flop down beside him. "There's nothing that can be done now."

"What if we can't get home for Christmas?"

You look over and he turns his head to look at you. "We have each other?"

"Yeah, we do." Shawn smiles softly. "I'm glad I'm stuck here with you."

"I'm glad it's you too."

____________________

Sleeping with Shawn is better than you expected. To start, you thought he would be a bed hog like he is on the tour bus, sprawled out all over his bed at the back of the bus, but he isn't. The two of you put on pajamas and crawled in on your respective sides. It was a little awkward at first, both of you unsure if it was okay to move or curl up or anything really. You decided to break that barrier though, push the button and make a move because the tension was absolutely eating you alive.

You scoot over from the very edge of the bed where you are laying uncomfortably still. You turn on your side and face Shawn who looks uncomfortable as hell too. "Hey, you look like you're petrified."

"I don't know what to do."

"How do you usually sleep with other people in your bed?"

Shawn rolls onto his side and props his head up on his hand. "Well, usually I spoon them because it's someone I'm very interested in and have usually just been intimate with. Other than that I usually sleep alone."

"Uh huh. So is it the lack of intimacy before hand that's stopping you?"

His cheeks turn dark pink in the soft glow of the white lights on the tree in the corner. "I-I don't know. Maybe?"

"If you need to spoon me so you can sleep, you can. I don't mind." You lay on your back and roll so your back is to him. You pat your side, inviting him to cuddle up. It’s the worst idea you’ve ever had and your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest at the sheer thought of Shawn being pressed against you. But how else will you ever get to experience a Shawn cuddle? You would rather know and live with that knowledge for the rest of your life while you pine in silence until you find someone to settle down with, than never know and always wonder just what you may have missed. "I trust you Shawn."

The bed shifts and you can feel the heat from his body as he scoots closer, but not quite touching. "You don't think it's weird?"

"We've been in much more intimate situations I’m sure. I've seen you naked a few dozen times. This isn't a big deal. I sleep better with someone close and you do too it seems. Just cuddle me and stop being so nervous about it."

Shawn's hand rests tentatively on your hip. "You're sure you don’t mind?"

"Shawn. I swear, it's fine." You chew on your lip, voice surprisingly convincing despite your nerves.

Finally Shawn takes the plunge, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you back against his warm body. Instantly you melt, body completely turning to mush. It’s everything you imagined it would be and more. He’s just right, bigger than you, warmer, soft but not too soft. You let out a sigh and he presses his nose to your hair.

"You smell really good,” Shawn says quietly.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome, and thank you for letting me cuddle you. I hope you don't think I'm weird."

You put your hand over his against your chest. "I always think you're weird, but not because of this."

"I miss it."

"Hmm? Miss what?"

"Being affectionate like this." He adjusts himself so he is fully pressed against the length of your body, feet covering yours between the blankets.. "It's been a long time."

You close your eyes, nervous to say what you really want to. Worried he will know you're falling for him. Well...that you’ve already fallen for him. You did that a long time ago. "I don't mind if you want to do this. I mean...like, again?"

Shawn presses his hand against your chest gently, holding you back against him as if giving you a hug. "I just might have to take you up on that offer sometime."

_____________________

Morning finds you warm and cozy. There is a fire in the fireplace when you sit up and look around the otherwise empty room. Shawn isn't there, but the smell of his body wash wafts in from the bathroom that's open but dark. You look to the clock over the fireplace and it's just after eight thirty. You check your phone and you have no signal, of course.  

You stretch as you get up and go to the big windows on the far wall. It's snowing still. You doubt it has ever stopped. You grab the complimentary robe from the dresser on your side of the room and wrap up in it before heading downstairs.

In the dining area that's set up like a small restaurant would be with it's tables and chairs scattered around with families and couples sat in eating, you find Shawn alone by the fireplace sipping coffee and reading something on his phone.

"Morning," you say softly as you take a seat with your back to the fireplace. "How'd you sleep?"

"Like a baby. You?"

"Same."

Shawn puts his phone down and offers you his cup. "Coffee?"

"That's yours though?"

"Yeah but you can have some while we wait for the hostess to come by again." Shawn scoots the mug toward you. "I know you aren't sick or something."

You wrap your hands around the mug and lift it up to take a sip. Straight black coffee with a hint of sweetener. It's strong as hell and you swear you can feel it wake your senses up immediately. "This is horrible. How do you enjoy this?"

He laughs. "It's good?"

"No cream or something? It's like engine oil."

"Nuh uh." Shawn plucks his mug from your hands and takes a drink. "It's great. Oh, here comes the hostess."

You order some eggs, bacon and orange juice. Shawn asks for just some bacon and toast. You look out the window to see the snow reaching the bottom of it, drifted up from the wind no doubt. It has snowed so much you're seriously worried you may not get home for a while.

"What's wrong?"

"The snow. It keeps falling."

"Yep." Shawn turns and looks outside. "I told my parents I would be spending Christmas here. If I'm wrong, it'll be a surprise when I get home. If I'm right, they're not worried about me."

"You have signal?"

"Yeah. You don't?"

"No. Can I call my parents?"

Shawn hands you his phone and you excuse yourself to the living room where it's a little quieter. You dial your dad's cell number and lean against the wall near a tree.

"Dad? Hey it's me."

"Kiddo! Where are you? We thought you were coming home last night?"

"We had to land in Iowa. We're grounded for at least two days, but it might be longer. It's hasn't stopped snowing since last night. Did Penny have her baby?"

"Not yet. They said it could be any day now, I guess she wasn't ready."

"That's great! Well, not for Penny but I didn't miss it. Is she worried about me? Did she think I forgot?"

"No no, we figured you might have been delayed. Whose number are you calling from by the way? I didn't recognize it."

"It's Sh- the hotel's number. I'm using a landline."

"It's an out of country number? I thought you were in Iowa?"

You scrub a hand over your face and mentally kick yourself. You don't want to tell your dad it's Shawn's cell number but your lie doesn't make sense. "It's Shawn's phone. Promise me you won't give this number out."

"Shawn? You're traveling home with him?"

"Yeah, well, no."

"Honey!" You dad calls for your mom and you hear her respond in the background. "Our daughter is bringing home a guest for Christmas!"

"Dad! No! We aren't going to make it!"

"What's that dear? You're breaking up, I can barely make out your voice."

"Dad, we probably aren't going to make it for Christmas and I'm not bringing Shawn home. Dad, can you hear me?"

"You're bringing Shawn? That's okay! We'll see you soon!"

"Dad no! We aren't-" The line goes dead and you pull the phone away from your ear. The signal bars drop from three to none and you groan. Perfect...just perfect.

______________________

After breakfast you find Shawn in the living room with his guitar sitting with a little girl who has a cat piano that meows instead of playing regular piano notes. The girl is maybe five or six and you're pretty sure her grandma is the woman sitting a few feet away on her iPad. You lean against the archway that leads to the dining area and smile as Shawn let's the girl pluck a few strings on the guitar.

"You like music huh? What's your favorite?"

"I like the music from Frozen and Moana." The girl says and presses a key on her piano that makes a deep cat meowing sound. "I like Moana the best."

"Me too." Shawn smiles, playing a few chords. "I know the song How Far I’ll Go pretty well."

You shake your head as he smiles to himself. Of course he knows the song, it's one of Alessia's. Shawn looks up and sees you. He says something to the girl really quick and gets up, leaving his guitar on the floor.

"Hey, did you get to call your parents back after it dropped?"

"No, the signal keeps fading. I sent a few texts, hopefully they'll get them."

"Ah. Well...did you know you're standing under the mistletoe?"

"Huh?" You look up and sure enough there is a little sprig of green with holly berries attached to the archway. "No, I think you're under the mistletoe."

"No, it's definitely you and you know what that means."

"You're gonna kiss me?"

"Yep." Shawn leans in and kisses your cheek gently as you back up. "You're free to go now."

You roll your eyes and giggle as he steps forward and leans against the archway. "Oh no, looks like you're definitely under it now."

"Ah crap."

You stand on your tiptoes and kiss his cheek. "Looks like I was right all along."

Shawn laughs and turns away to go back into the living room. "I'll get you back for that, you lured me in."

"Uh huh. Sure you will." You head upstairs to find a movie on tv to kill time. May as well get used to it. You're going to be here a while longer.

_____________________

A little after noon Shawn finds you in the room curled up on the bed watching TV. You just got a text back from your dad saying that Penny had her baby. A boy named Lucas, eight pounds. You couldn't help but cry, disappointed you weren't there but happy that Penny had her baby okay. It sucks.

"What's wrong?" Shawn asks, sitting beside you on the bed. "Your eyes are red like you were upset."

"Penny had her baby."

"Oh! That's great, is she okay? Is the baby okay?"

You nod. "I'm just sad I couldn't be there for her. She's the first of my siblings and I to have a kid and I guess...I guess I sort of live vicariously through her."

"Oh."

"It's fine." You wipe your eyes. "Everyone is healthy. I'll get to meet the baby a little later. It's alright."

Shawn opens his arms and motions for you to come to him. You do, leaning forward until you're crawling into his arms. He holds you tight, rubbing up and down your back with his big soft hands. "Its okay to be upset. I understand if you're emotional about missing something clearly important to you."

You rub your nose on his shoulder. "Thank you. I'm sorry I'm crying so much."

"No, shh, you don't have to be sorry."

"But-"

Shawn squeezes you. "No buts, let it all out. You're always there for me on my bad days, I'm gonna be here for you."

_____________________

"Can I take you to dinner?"

You look up from your laptop. The inn has WiFi but it's not the best. You've just been updating schedules and trying to get any flight out of Iowa. So far everything is still grounded until the storms blow over. "Dinner?"

"Yeah. I was talking with some people in the living room earlier and they said that there is a place not too far from here that serves dinner through Christmas Eve. I thought maybe it'd get your mind off of everything."

"Sure." You close your laptop and get up to put on your coat. "Are we walking?"

"Yes. Wear your boots."

"Mmm and what are you going to wear?" You glance at his well loved chelsea boots in the corner. They're the only shoes he has with him aside from some tennis shoes made of breathable mesh.

Shawn grabs his boots and looks down at his feet, wiggling his toes in his socks. "I'll wear extra socks?"

"Mmhmm." You sit down and pull on your black leather boots that are possibly the best shoes you own. "Y'know you're a millionaire right? You can afford new boots just like those that aren't worn thin."

"I know. But these are comfortable, they're my boots."

"Right."

He groans as he sinks into the bed beside you to put on an extra pair of socks. "I promise I'll get new boots okay? But I won't get rid of these."

"Shawn, they're old."

"They're my favorite." He zips the side and stomps his foot down to adjust to the extra socks bulk. "Don't judge me."

"Alright, alright," you giggle. "I'll stop bullying you into getting new shoes. If they make you happy, that's what matters."

"They do." Shawn gets up and grabs his coat, tossing you his sweater he wore yesterday. "You might want that."

"I have a sweater?"

"The thin one that you wore yesterday? That's hardly a sweater."

"I didn't plan on being trapped in a snowglobe after leaving Brazil, a very non sweater climate. So sorry I didn't pack for a blizzard."

Shawn narrows his eyes and you narrow yours back. "I'm not going to take a human popsicle to dinner."

"Oh whatever." You snatch his sweater off the bed laughing as you pull it on. It's a little big and it smells like cinnamon and his cologne. So basically, Shawn. You used to wonder why he smelled like cinnamon, then you found out one of his primary vitamin supplements has cinnamon in it. It's supposed to help with metabolism or something. All you know is it makes him smell slightly spicy when he gets warm.

The walk to the restaurant is fairly short. It's just two blocks up from the inn. The snow is a pain to walk through and it's easier to walk in the street than it is to try and use the sidewalk. There are absolutely no cars out and about so you're pretty safe. There are a few other people in the restaurant when you step in, grateful to get out of the cold wind. You're glad you wore Shawn's sweater.

"So, if we are stuck here for Christmas, what do you want to do?" Shawn asks as soon as you're seated by the waitress.

"We're going to find a way home."

"I know you're trying but-"

You shake your head. "No, I'm going to find a way home. I missed Penny's baby. I'm not missing Christmas."

Shawn sighs softly. "Alright. We're going to find a way home. I'll get you home one way or another."

"We'll get us both home."

"Right. Enough about that though, we're supposed to be enjoying dinner and not thinking about all that." Shawn says, lifting his menu. "Look, they have a Christmas dinner option. Ham, potatoes and all the fixings. Sounds good."

You nod and try to focus on the menu. It's hard. You can't help but feel nervous as the day comes to a close. One day until Christmas. At least you're not alone.

_____________________

Just after two in the morning you wake up to a severe weather alert on your phone. The signal must have connected enough for you to get one. Shawn's phone goes off too, loudly buzzing on his dresser.

"What's going on?" Shawn asks sleepily, arm falling to your waist as you sit up.

"It's a severe weather alert." You read the message on your phone. "Blizzard warning. High winds may cause power outages across the state. Below freezing temperatures are in effect, be advised if going outdoors."

"Shit." Shawn mumbles.

"Shit is right. We're not leaving this place."

He pushes you back down and you curl up facing the windows away from him. "We'll be alright."

"This sucks."

"Mmm. I promise I'll make it up to you. It's my fault we're out here because I didn't want to leave Brazil until the last minute. I ruined Christmas." He sighs.

"Shawn, stop. You didn't ruin anything."

He cuddles you against him and presses his nose into your hair. "I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything."

"I still feel guilty."

You grab his hand and he threads his fingers between yours. "Can I ask you something?"

"Anything, but I'm not very awake."

"Do you think we were meant to be here, together for Christmas?"

"Hmm?"

"Like...never mind."

Shawn yawns and doesn't press the subject. He relaxes into you, his weight comfortable against your back. You close your eyes, really enjoying this moment despite the impending knowledge of being stuck here for the holiday. You and Shawn fit together perfectly, maybe a little too perfectly.

_____________________

Shawn is gone again when you wake up in the morning. It's after eight and you know you should get up and go get breakfast, but you aren't hungry. It's Christmas Eve. You don't want to get up.

The bedroom door opens and Shawn walks in, bundled up and carrying a bag full of wrapped gifts. "Good morning."

"Morning. What's that?" You point to the gifts and Shawn grins sheepishly.

"Presents."

"For?"

"You?"

You raise your eyebrows. "Why do you have presents for me?"

Shawn sets the bag down by the tree and unwraps his scarf from around his face. "Everyone deserves gifts on Christmas day. And since we're going to be stuck here, I figured we should make our own Christmas."

"You're not sad you can't get home?"

"I was, but I talked to my dad this morning. He said that Christmas is what you make it, whether that be with family, friends or your pets. He said that they will miss me, but he doesn't want me to fret over it. We can do Christmas whenever I get home." Shawn hangs his coat and kicks off his boots. "I'm lucky, because I have you and I'm not alone."

"I guess you're right. We are together in the same boat."

"Yep. So let's make the best of it."

"I suppose I should get up and go shop for you now huh?"

"You could. But let's have some breakfast first." Shawn holds his hand out for you. "Come on, there is cinnamon roll pancakes with your name on them."

"There is?"

"Mmm. I talked to the kitchen staff this morning. They said they would make them special since we're some of the few guests left at the inn." Shawn bites his lip. "I know they're your favorite."

"You're sweet." You curl your fingers around his hand and he lifts you up out of bed. "Too sweet."

Shawn hugs you tight. "You deserve it."

_____________________

Breakfast is amazing. The kitchen crew out did themselves with the cinnamon pancakes with sweet icing for you. Shawn ordered just eggs and bacon but they're also super good. Even the coffee is better than before.

Shawn reaches out and swipes some icing off your lip with his thumb. "Do you like me?"

"What? Of course." Your heart sinks, stomach churning. You know he doesn’t mean in a general way. "Why?"

"I mean, as more than your friend or job...whatever. I've just been thinking. The last few days have been some of the best I've had and-" He looks away, flushed. "And you and I have been kind of flirting a lot? Unless I've been reading this completely wrong."

"You like me?"

"Of course I like you." He looks back and fidgets with his fork. "You and I have had a vibe since you joined the team. I think I've been too nervous to admit it before now. I was too scared to shoot my shot."

You grab Shawn's hand and make him stop tapping his fork on the table. "Calm down. I like you a lot. A whole lot."

"Yeah?" He grins, chewing on his lip.

"Yes."

"Good, because I don't want to stop sharing a bed with you any time soon. You’ve spoiled me the last few days. I don't think I've slept this well since before the tour started." He chuckles to himself. "Remember when I promised you on the plane that as soon as we landed I'd find you a date?"

You giggle and he lines his hand up with yours on the table, palms together, his fingers curling over the top of yours slightly. "Yes?"

"Do you want to go out with me tonight?"

"But there is a blizzard warning."

Shawn looks around the dining room. "We can stay here, I can get hot cocoa and cookies from the kitchen. We can watch a movie or something." His fingers slot between yours and you squeeze his hand. "We can stay up until midnight like kids on Christmas."

"Alright." You smile softly and he looks back just as soft. "Let's do it."

_____________________

At midnight you and Shawn exchange gifts, not all of them, just one each. You had gone out and shopped at a small store in town that had all sorts of things for the holidays. You picked out a few things for Shawn, just little memorable trinkets. One is a keychain so you never forget this holiday and it says first Christmas, Iowa. It's cheesy but you don't care. The next gift you grabbed was a paracord bracelet the store had by the registers. It's black with a red stripe down the middle. You couldn't pass it up. Shawn loves his accessories and especially if they mean something or are a gift.

Shawn hands you a small box wrapped in brown paper first. "Merry Christmas."

You turn it over and give him a look. "What is this?"

"Open it and see."

You tear off the brown paper and open up the box. Inside is a little sparkly rose charm on a gold chain. "This is so cute." You lift it out and it is so ornate and delicate. "Where did you get this?"

"It's a secret." He smirks.

"Mmhmm. You did not buy this here.”

“You can’t prove that.”

“Oh yeah? I have access to your bank account remember? I swore I wouldn’t use it for ill intent but...and you told me you’d never lie to me when we first met.”

“Fine, I did promise you that. I got it before we left Brazil. I was going to give it to you at the airport.”

“Thank you.” You curl your hand around it and smile. “Your turn." You hand him a tiny bag with the bracelet in it.

Shawn opens it and slips it on. "I love it."

"I thought you might. I didn’t get you something cool in Brazil....and I know it's not much but-"

Shawn leans forward and kisses you, hand resting against your neck. Your eyes go wide and he pulls back.

"W-what was that about?"

"Look up."

You tilt your head back and see there is mistletoe hanging over the area in front of the fireplace where you're sat with Shawn. It was definitely not there earlier. "When did that happen?"

"I told you I'd get you back." He smirks and it dawns on you. The other day in the living room, the mistletoe.  

"You put that there." You laugh and he cups your cheek. "You...you put that there?"

"I did." He leans in and you take a deep breath. "And I did it because I needed some Christmas magic to give me the courage to do this." He presses his lips to yours once more and you slide your hand into his hair.

"Merry Christmas Shawn."

"Merry Christmas."

End

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Thank you for reading! Please reblog if you enjoyed this and reblog to support and encourage myself and fellow writers. - A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes story #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes oneshot #shawn mendes writing #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes fics #shawn mendes concepts #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes non au

[septicbro1005]

Paint Me How You See Me

A/N: Okay, you have no idea how excited I was to see that I had permission to write this. I literally am so happy I could scream. Will I? Not out loud. This actually made me so excited that I got up and started walking around my room and smiling holy shit. Alright. Enough of that. I was inspired to write this story by a comic made by the fantastic @venadorosas​ and I just am so damn excited to write this! I am not an art student myself, but I will do my best to replicate it with what I know. I hope I do the comic justice! Just a few more things before this thing starts: I'm gonna do myself and make this a Quirkless AU as well as make Yuuei a university instead of a high school. This is unedited, so if there are sentences or misspellings, that is why, and I apologize. Anyway, let's get rolling!

Kirishima's POV

One stroke after the other.

Small, swift.

One stroke makes a world of a difference.

So don't… mess… up.

I only have one canvas left after this one, but I'm saving it for something important. Something special. Just need to figure out what.

I mean, yeah, I have others on back order, and Mr. Miyoshi is usually pretty cool with giving me some, but I still need to think about what to do with the 106 cm by 106 cm canvas.

A canvas that big needs something worth being put on there.

"Psst, Kiri--" "Shhhhhhhhhhhhhut," I hissed out through clenched teeth.

"You nee--" "I said shut,"

"B--" "No. Shut. Lemme finish,"

The person who proceeded to pester me, even after I told him to be quiet, was none other than Hanta Sero.

He was an art student, along with myself and several others I know by name.

One of which was Katsuki Bakugou.

And damn, was he confusing.

He was this aloof dude who talked to maybe two people by his own volition.

Some random girl who I see him talk to ever now and again. I think we've spoken twice? All I remember is she told me to call her Tsu.

And then me.

Sure, he'd talk to the professors and people like that, but if he didn't have to speak, he wouldn't.

Yet, he spoke to me.

Not only did he barely talk to people, but he also is probably one of the best looking people on campus.

I kid you not, the first time I saw this dude, I was totally sure I'd met Adonis in human form.

His ash blond hair was styled into a fluffy undercut that I would pay money for to be able to run my hands through, even once. His gauges and helix piercings gave him a bit of an edge, but that's what made him more alluring. He came into class one day, wearing a wife beater, which put a tattoo on full display, resting on his right shoulder.

It isn't just his looks that are attractive either. The way he holds himself, presents himself, just his whole aura is indescribable, to keep it brief.

And he was the person I was painting this for.

This wasn't his first commission. Not by a long shot. And this one was fairly simple as well. Still, I poured my heart and soul into it, just like every piece.

But with his commissions, I feel the need to work that much harder. To push myself that much farther. To make it perfect, in a word.

Now, I know that perfection is impossible, but I still want to achieve it.

I mean, if Bakugou could, I could too, right?

"Kirishima, I've been talking to you for the past couple of seconds and you haven't shushed me. Don't zone out on me right now, man,"

Sero's voice managed to pull me out of this trance, but only a bit.

The ash blond with the scarlet glare was still in the back of my mind.

"What?"

"You need lunch, man," Sero said, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Listen, I thank you for your concern, but I had a protein shake maybe six hours ago. I'm dandy," I mumbled, doing a few more soft strokes before standing up. "Plus, I'm not even hungry," 

"Dunno what kind of protein shake you're drinking, but you still need sustenance. C'mon," Sero attempted to persuade me as I walked to the sink to clean the small brush.

"I'm cool, dude. I have a granola bar or two in my bag. I'll eat when I'm hungry," I chuckled lightly, turning on the water and cleaning the brush.

Sero sighed in defeat, as this marked the second week in a row where I substituted breakfast with a protein drink and lunch with a granola bar.

"Alright, fine. Make sure you eat dinner tonight, or Mr. Miyoshi is gonna kick you out again," Sero said, beginning to walk to the door.

"I know, I know,"

"I'll be off, then,"

"Peace out, dude,"

I heard the door to the studio shut, and it was just me in here.

Just me and the paint.

"Hey, Siri,"

My phone lit up, hearing its name.

"Play Rex Orange County on Spotify,"

As I began to finish up some touches on the snow covered forests surrounding a bright red cardinal, the song Uno filled my ears.

The song had no real relevance, but I love that song so much. I dunno if its just because it sounds so simple and sweet, but I just think the song's pretty great.

I'd say after maybe forty-five minutes of doing seemingly pointless touch-ups, I stood back, admiring my work.

Not much needed to be done, but I needed this to be phenomenal.

"I'll just use a simple varnish once everything is dry, then I can move it into the back," I muttered to myself, as if someone was there and I had to be quiet. "Can I finish it today? I could tell him where it is, and wait for the money to come in, I guess,"

A few seconds pause later, and I continued.

"Wow, great job, Eijirou. You sound like a dickwad who just wants money,"

A short sigh, a granola bar and maybe a half an hour or so later, everything seemed dry.

"Let's varnish this motherfucker, and I'll text him when that's done," I mumbled, going into the cabinets, looking for the varnish.

No other assignments at the moment… okay! Cool! I can probably head back to my dorm, chill there, and text Bakugou when it's done!

When I finally found it, I got to work on the varnish.

***

"And sent," I whispered as I approached the dormitories.

I just sent Bakugou a short text, telling him where to find it, how to send me the money (although he probably knows the process by heart at this point) and all that jazz.

My dorm building was in sight when my phone buzzed once.

It was a different buzzing pattern than all the others.

"Oh, Bakugou responded this quickly?" I thought aloud.

Opening my phone, I checked the message.

Sent the ¥321.7K 

My eyes widened at the number.

"I sure as hell didn't tell him to send me that much, what the hell?"

                                                   What!? The commission was only ¥48.2K?!

His response was immediate.

Left a tip.

Get yourself something nice.

"Whoa," I murmured.

Now, I knew Bakugou was on the higher end of the economic spectrum, but hot damn! 

He did usually give me more money than I told him to, but that fact that he gave me that much more this time just seemed to solidify the thought of him being rich.

So manly.

Heading into my dorm building, I looked to the elevators, only to see an out of order sign on them both.

"Are you kidding me?" I whispered. "Fine, guess I'm just gonna take the damn stairs,"

I got a notification, seeing the ¥321.7K was successfully put into my account, and I knew this commission was over.

But at this point, I knew what to expect from Bakugou. Next time I see him, he's gonna ask me about another one.

Not that I mind, not one damn bit. I'm cool with any excuse to talk to him, and I'm happy to please him with my art.

I just gotta brace myself for the next time I see him.

Trudging up the stairs, I began pondering what he would want next.

He seems to really like requesting animals, mainly birds such as crows and cardinals, but will he do something different? Ooh, maybe a peacock! Or maybe he'd want some other winged creature… like maybe an insect? Or possibly he'll switch it up on me.

As I ended up on the next staircase, I heard someone else's footsteps approaching.

Looking up, my eyes were met with a familiar scarlet pair of eyes.

"Oh, hey, Bakugou!" I said with a wave.

"Hey," he replied with a simple nod.

Fuck, he was just as gorgeous as always.

A grey turtleneck hugged his torso, with a black and white pinstripe button up on over it. The shirt was tucked into a pair of black jeans, a wallet chain dangling on his right side. A pair of black converse and a dog tag finished his look, alongside my composure.

"Thanks again for the great work," he said, his husky voice hypnotizing me further.

"You haven't already picked it up, have you?" I asked, cocking my head to the side. "I don't think I saw you walk past me to get to the parking lot,"

"Nah, but I know it's gonna look good," his compliment was accompanied by a smirk.

Short-lived, yes. But a smirk nonetheless.

"Aw, thanks dude! Always happy to make something for my best customer!" I felt myself beam at him. 

"See you around, Red," he said, continuing down the stairs.

"Bye," I waved with a small smile on my face as he disappeared down the stairs.

I quickly hauled ass up to my floor, speed walked to my door and slammed the keys in.

Gay panic in private, dude.

Opening the door, I pulled my key out and shut the door.

"I'm back, Omi!" I shouted into the apartment to see if my roommate was here.

"Hey," my roommate responded from his bed.

"Is it cool if I hop in the shower real quick?" I asked, jerking a thumb toward the bathroom.

"Sure thing. Keep it brief," Omi said, making me roll my eyes.

"Okay, dad," I sighed, but I gave a smile to show it was all in jest.

After locking myself in the bathroom and stripping myself down to absolutely nothing, I got in the shower and had a gay crisis.

Because that's the only place you can have those, y'know?

But a good ol' Panic! In The Shower was enough to calm my nerves.

As I stepped out of the bathroom to grab clothing, I heard Omi laughing.

"What?"

"That Bakugou guy really messes you up, huh?" his laughter was thrown in between words, but I knew exactly what he was referencing.

"If I'm being too loud, just knock on the door, dude! Tell me to shut it, I don't care," I flushed, looking at the ground, my hand tightening around the towel that hung on my waist.

Omi just kept laughing at me as I grabbed my clothes; a simple crimson riot shirt, boxers, black shorts and my wave socks.

It isn't like I'm going anywhere tonight, right?

…

Is what I originally thought until I was dressed and realized I left my motherfucking cardigan at the studio.

"Ugh, fuck," I groaned, rubbing a towel on my head.

"Left your cardigan again?"

"Perhaps," 

"You might as well just wrap it around your waist," Omi suggested.

"And risk getting paint on it?" I looked at Omi like he was a motherfucking psychopath. "Hell no. The cardigan was my grandmother's, so I ain't doing shit to it,"

"Clearly, if you're leaving it in the studio again," Omi mumbled.

"Shush!" I whined, grabbing my keys and slipping on my red sneakers. "I'll be back,"

"Okay,"

Leaving my dorm, I began going down the stairs when I ran into someone.

It was Bakugou, again.

And just when I thought my gay panic was over for the day.

"Oh, hey," I said as casually as possible.

Which probably sounded forces as fuck, because it felt like my heart was just about ready to implode.

"Red," Bakugou was looking me up and down.

I don't think I've ever felt more self-conscious about my appearance in my life.

"I've got another request, if it isn't too much,"

"O-oh, okay!" 

Why did I stutter?! That was so unmanly!

"So, what is it?"

I looked into his gorgeous eyes, trying to see further into him, but I was only met with his right hand slamming into the wall next to my head.

Oh shit, oh fuck. I'm gonna die. I'm gonna collapse, right here. Right now. I can't handle this.

"Uh, dude? You--" "Paint me how you see me, Kirishima,"

Uh, what?

I was stuck between saying "Got it," and "What?" so my dumbass just responded with this:

"Gweh?"

We sat there, in silence, staring at each other.

My face was flushing bright red, and I wanted to look away, but I didn't. I couldn't. His eyes just drew me in.

He moved his arm to his side, and began to head up the stairs.

Quick, say something coherent!

"O-on it!"

I swear, I saw him smile a bit before he was completely gone.

What was I doing again?

***

It's been around three weeks.

It's been three weeks of planning, sketching, and small, swift strokes.

And plenty of panic, but that's irrelevant. There was a bit of disco, so it balances out anyway.

Mr. Miyoshi did end up setting a curfew on me, to make sure I didn't pass out at the studio, but it wasn't set until it had already happened.

But, since I wanted to work on it after the curfew, I brought it to the dorm, keeping it on newspaper and buying the paint I needed.

I had the picture in my mind, which I did my best to replicate without him genuinely modelling for me.

It was a ¾ shot of his shirtless back, with him looking over his right shoulder, giving a perfect view of his side profile. I also made sure I replicated his tattoo to the best of my abilities, and I think it came out okay.

But that isn't all!

Monarch butterflies lined his back, as a fiery looking echo was placed slightly to the left. 

Those warm colors contrasted like hell, compared to the blues and navy of the background.

Just to fuck around with more color, flecks of brighter colors adorned the background, giving it sort of galaxy look.

I thought it looked gorgeous.

And not just because it's Bakugou.

You know how when you make something, and you worked so damn hard on it, and when it's done, you're just filled with pride?

This is one of those works for me.

"Omi!" I yelled about before cringing.

It's 01:35.

"Yeah?" 

Why the fuck does he sound like he's been awake?

"First of all, have you been awake this whole time? Second of all, could you grab me my phone?" I said a little quieter.

"It's done?" Omi asked, coming over with my phone.

"I'm happy with it," I said with a huge grin.

"Looks fantastic," Omi pat my shoulder before walking off.

Using my nose, I unlocked my phone and took a picture before putting my phone down.

I just looked at the painting, with Bakugou's slight pout catching my eyes.

I have absolutely zero clue what came over me, but I lifted my forefinger to my mouth, and pressed a small peck to it.

My forefinger rested against the painting's lips, and I just felt warm.

And that was probably the best feeling ever.

I gotta give this to him in person. It's about time I told him.

***

What floor are you on again?

                                                                                    Number two. Room 204.

Okay, I'm coming over.

I let out a shuddery breath, looking at the canvas, which I covered with a blanket.

I need to tell him.

It's time.

I kept opening my phone, making sure I had the song ready to play at the click of a button.

He needs to know.

A loud knock landed on my door, and I jumped.

I walked over to the door, playing the song as I opened it.

"Hey, Bakugou! Come in!"

The ash blond entered, wearing a button up and jeans again, just no turtleneck this time.

"So, I wanted to give this one to you in person… because I…" I was stumbling over my words.

Calm down, Eijirou. You got this.

"Because this could very well be the last commission you want from me,"

This made Bakugou's usual deadpan change ever so slightly. His left brow rose up as his head tilted to the side.

"And why might that be?"

"I…"

Fucking say it.

Spit it out.

"I like you," I barely got out before throwing my gaze at the ground. "I like you a lot. You're just so cool and collected, and from what I know about you, I like it. And I want to know more. I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, but I just had to get that out," 

Before I even looked at him, I walked over to the painting, still looking at the ground, and pulled the blanket off.

Everything was silent, except for the music in the background. But even the song was at a quieter part than the rest of it.

I felt Bakugou's eyes on me and not the painting, which terrified me to no end.

Should I have even said anything?

"You don't have to pay if you don't want to or if you don't like it. And…" I took in a shaky breath, looking at the ground, lazily gesturing to the painting and then myself. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, if you even thought of us as friends, then you can ignore me,"

His footsteps were soft, but I knew they were coming. So when his black converse appeared in my vision, I looked off to the side as my vision blurred with tears that threatened to spill. 

A finger went under my chin, turning my face to him.

His eyes met mine, and he was smiling.

"You really are oblivious, huh?"

"Gweh?"

Fucking, again?

Bakugou laughed before leaning in a bit, his head turning to the left.

"Can I kiss you as a tip?"

My whole brain has short-circuited, but I turned my head to the right and leaned in closer.

My eyes slowly closed, and when his lips met mine, I was immediately thrown into a state of euphoria.

Holy shit, this is happening.

This is actually happening!

I couldn't help the smile that bloomed on my face as I draped my arms over his shoulders, and I couldn't stop laughing either.

It was so fucking amazing.

Small blazes of tears made tracks down my cheeks, but I didn't care. Unless my nose starts running, I'm not gonna let some tears mess up this kiss.

But, all good things must come to an end, as Bakugou pulled back.

His eyes were on mine, and for once, they were soft. A small grin was pasted on his features, his hands on my face.

"Why are you crying?" he asked as his thumb rubbed at my dampened cheek.

I just felt myself giggle in response. 

"Well, I was originally gonna cry because I thought you wouldn't be cool with my confession, but these tears quickly turned sweet," I just couldn't stop laughing. "Shit, I'm so happy,"

We just stood there for a few moments of content silence before Bakugou spoke up.

"So, how the hell am I supposed to bring this painting to my dorm?" 

"I can help you bring it up there!" I offered.

"I get to bring two masterpieces to my dorm? Great!" Bakugou oozed confidence as he said that.

"Dear christ," I began giggling again, since that was unexpected.

We grabbed the painting, and I made sure Bakugou was careful with it, but was also holding it properly.

"Hey, Omi! Could you get the door?"

"Sure,"

"Your roommate was here?" Bakugou asked.

"Well, it's his dorm too." I pointed out as Omi got the door for me. "Plus, it isn't like I wasn't so obviously crushing on you,"

"It really wasn't," Omi said, patting my back carefully. "But congratulations to the both of you,"

"Thanks, Omi,"

Bakugou just gave a small murmur to thank Omi.

"Alright, Bakugou, you go through the door first, then we can keep walking," I said, turning us so Bakugou could walk out the door properly.

"Okay,"

After a quick minute of maneuvering, we managed to get the painting up the stairs without damaging it.

"So you're which dorm?"

"302," Bakugou said as we got to his door.

"Coolio!" I grinned.

"Dork," Bakugou snickered at me. "How d'you want this to be put down?"

"We can just rest it against the wall," I said, propping the painting up on the wall.

"Give me a quick sec," Bakugou mumbled, unlocking the door.

He swung the door open and made sure it stayed open. 

"Alright,"

"At this point, I'm gonna follow you. You know where you wanna put this?" I asked him.

"Uhm… I think Misumi wouldn't mind if I placed this on his side of the room until I know exactly where to hang it," Bakugou said as we walked into the room.

***

My paintings were all on the wall. The snow surrounded cardinal, the murder of crows, all of them.

Except one.

The other paintings sort of made a frame, with a 106 cm x 106 cm square in the middle.

"Hey, honey?" I called out.

"What's up, Rourou?" Katsuki asked from the other room.

"Could you grab me the step ladder?"

"Shorty," I heard Katsuki laugh.

"I heard that, Katsu! You aren't as quiet as you think!"

"Says you, of all people!" Katsuki chuckled, coming on with the step ladder.

"Thank you, baby," I said, pecking his cheek.

"Of course. Putting up the last one?" He asked.

"Yep!" I said, grabbing the painting I made all those years back.

The monarch butterflies dotting his spine, his scarlet glare, gorgeous fluffy hair, all of it brought together, and hung up on our wall.

I got off the step ladder, and looked at the paintings. Every single one of them.

A hand snaked around my waist and pulled me in close.

"I love you so much, baby," Katsuki whispered, kissing my forehead.

"I love you too,"

His hand rubbed against my waist, but I could feel one thing that was inconsistent with the feeling of the rest of his hand.

A golden band sat on his left ring finger, practically identical to the one that sat on my left ring finger.

A/N: And that's all! Honestly, I'm very pleased with this, and think this came out well! I hope that those of you who see this like it too! I want to thank @venadorosas for allowing me to write a story based off of their comic and for making such fantastic art. If you like my writing, I'm also on Wattpad, so check me out there, if you're up for it. Same username and profile picture. I do believe that this is it! I apologize for the ending, as it feels a little odd to me, I just don't have any idea how to end it properly. I sincerely hope that I did the comic justice. Love y'all! Stay safe and healthy! - Septic

#kiribaku #bakushima #eijirou kirishima #katsuki bakugou #fluff #fanficition #seriously when i saw i could do this i was so excited #holy shit #okay #inspired by a comic #gay #college au #art student au #i also threw in references to the game a3! #because why the fuck not #septic #unedited #so it's messy and i apologize for any misspellings

[theladyofdeath]

Alone in the Ashes {5}

A Court of Thorns and Roses fanfction, characters belong to Sarah J Maas. Modern au. Revolves around Nesta x Cassian, Feyre x Rhysand, and Elain x Azriel. Other characters appear throughout. Based on multiple prompts sent in by anons tbr below.

Warning: Mature content. Alcohol abuse, verbal abuse, sex, language, eating disorders.

For summary & chapter index, click >  Alone in the Ashes {Acotar}

Word Count: 4.9k

A/N: Dinner at the Archeron’s, part 1.

Comment to tell me what you think, or to be tagged! x

“Let me tell you this: if you meet a loner, no matter what they tell you, it's not because they enjoy solitude. It's because they have tried to blend into the world before, and people continue to disappoint them.” ― Jodi Picoult, My Sister's Keeper 

Azriel sat on a bench in the middle of the courtroom. 

Mila was with Rhysand, out for breakfast, before he had to go into work.

It had been a long week. After Amarantha had shown up at his apartment after being released from the hospital, she enlightened him that she would have a hearing, and was not expecting good news. 

You fucking overdosed, again. Mila found you, couldn’t wake you up, and went to your neighbor’s house...A four year old! Azriel had spat at her. You have fucking drugs in a house with a toddler! It’s not your fucking four year old’s responsibility to save your ass.

Amarantha hadn’t said anything back. She simply nodded, and brushed it off.

They’re going to send me to jail, Az. To prison. For a long time. Amarantha almost seemed guilty at that, but the haunted look in her eyes didn’t last long. She was shaky, jittery, unnerved. Her mind wasn’t really there. Her mind was still on whatever it was she was recovering from. 

Now, he watched as Amarantha sat before the judge. 

He didn’t feel guilty, felt no remorse, as she was charged.

Possession. Distribution. 

When I get out, she’s going to be a young adult, at the least, Amarantha had told him as they sat around his kitchen table, four days earlier. Believe it or not, Azriel, I do love my daughter.

Azriel shook his head, but had nothing left to say. 

I want you to take her, Az. Care for her. I have told them as much, social services, through my lawyer. That you are her only relative, and that she’s close to you.

She was selfish, cruel, and Azriel had been forced to put up with way too much of her shit over the years.

But he couldn’t have Mila going into a home. 

“Twenty years in the Velaris state prison,” the judge said, at last. “You will be detained straight from here. Mercifully, I will give you a moment to say goodbye to your family.” 

The judge dismissed the courtroom, and a pair of burly cops followed Amarantha to where Azriel stood. 

“You didn’t bring my daughter?” she asked, brows raised.

“As someone who just lost twenty years of their life, you don’t seem too bothered,” Azriel muttered. “And, no, I didn’t think she should have to watch her mother be dragged away. Again.” 

Amarantha shook her head. “At least bring her to visit me?” 

Azriel didn’t respond. “I have to go meet with cps and make sure Mila isn’t thrown into the system.”

Like we were. 

Much to Amarantha’s protests, Azriel turned his back to her and walked out of the courtroom. He didn’t know why he hated Amarantha more: because she was a selfish bitch, or because she reminded Azriel of his mother.

It was an addiction. Azriel understood that. It was called an addiction for a reason, it was hard to shake, hard to stop, hard to get rid of. But, it still pissed him off. It all pissed him off, unbearably. 

Azriel had been eleven when he got home from school and found his mother, unconscious on their living room floor, again. Only that time, she hadn’t woken up. After that day, he was forced into the foster care system, tossed around from home to home and eventually placed with a couple, and Amarantha, none who could care less about him. 

All because of that damned, selfish addiction his mother had.

That Amarantha had. 

His meeting with cps hadn’t lasted long. Amarantha had told them about him, she was honest about that. Perhaps in some way she did care about Mila, even if she didn’t show it.

They did a background check on him. The only thing they found was a few speeding tickets and that one time he spent the night in jail, at seventeen, because he’d had too much vodka at a party. 

“Look,” Azriel said, once they said they had heard enough and would give him a call. “I love my niece. And she needs me. She knows me, she trusts me, she’s stayed with me for half her life. You can’t put her into foster care. I was in foster care, it’s...you can’t put her into foster care.”

The woman behind the desk smiled softly at Azriel. “I’m just the interviewer, but I will pass the case along, and they will give you a call soon, I promise. You’re Mila’s only relative, aside from your foster parents, but they don’t wish to have a part. You have no criminal record. You have your own home. I see no reason why they would not leave Mila in your care. When they do call, and they approve of her staying with you, there will be paperwork to fill out. We will have you back in the office at that time. Until then...comfort that child. She just had her mother taken away.”

Again, Azriel added, silently, for the hundredth time that morning. 

“Thank you,” he said, attempting a smile as he stood and left the office. 

Azriel made it to his truck and shut himself inside. His eyes closed in the silence. Deep breath in, slowly let it out. Repeat once, twice, three times.

He had to go get Mila from Rhys so that he could go to work. Azriel had to get to work himself, work on the garage at the Archeron’s. 

All he wanted to do, though, was sit in silence for a minute. Five minutes. Ten. 

Fuck addictions.

Fuck substance abuse.

Fuck it all. 

Azriel leaned his head back against the truck seat and ran his hands through his hair. He thought of his mother, then realized he could barely remember what she looked like. He remembered the dark hair, like his, the hazel eyes….he could also remember she always had dark shadows beneath her distant eyes, that she was way too thin. He remembered the way her hands shook.  

He couldn’t remember what she looked like when she smiled. 

Azriel put his car in reverse and left the courthouse.

He kept the radio off. 

~~~~~

“You’ll be there tonight, right?”

Nesta had said yes every day since Elain asked at the beginning of the week. “Yes. Seven?”

“Six, I thought we could have drinks while dinner is being made,” Elain beamed. “Oh, Nesta, I’m so excited. So is dad. Feyre’s bringing Rhys along. Oh! Is Tomas excited? We can’t wait to meet him.”

Nesta froze. Tomas. She had completely forgotten. “Oh, I-”

“You’ve never brought a boy home,” Elain continued. “I mean, this is monumental! He must really be special.”

“About that-”

“I hope he likes chicken. He does like chicken, right? I mean, everyone likes chicken. What’s his drink choice? Bourbon? Rum? Or, is he just a beer kind of man?”

“Elain-”

“Oh, I’m so happy, Nesta. This house deserves a little party. For once, it won’t just be me and dad.” Elain sighed. It was the first time Nesta had heard her become excited in quite some time. “I’ve got to run to the store. I’ll see you at six, right?”

Nesta’s eyes shut. “Right.”

“Okay, bye!” Elain beamed, hanging up.

Nesta was left sitting in her apartment, groaning. “Fuck!”

Tomas had left. To go where? Nesta had no idea. He hadn’t called, but he texted a few days before saying he was leaving town. Even if he had been in town, the chances of him going to a family dinner were slim. He wasn’t the family dinner type.

Nesta dug through her purse for a cigarette, but the box was empty. She had to make a drug store run before she completely lost her shit. 

There was one on the corner that she made it to in five minutes, and after fueling the tobacco industry, which even she didn’t happily endorse, she was walking back home, a cigarette between her lips. 

“Do you ever have a good day?”

Nesta twirled around.

Cassian was walking toward her, sweating, his dog on a leash. 

“You look pissed,” he went on, “literally at all times.”

“And you have a way of sneaking up on me when I don’t want you to,” Nesta drawled. “Which is always.”

Cassian chuckled. “Well, whatever it is today, hope it gets better. The drink offer still stands. Come over if you wanna get hammered.” 

A thought entered Nesta’s mind, but she quickly pushed it away. No. She would not become desperate. She would go to dinner, alone, and tell Elain and her father that there was no Tomas, not anymore, that even Nesta drove away a worthless bastard like Tomas Mandray. 

She would endure their disappointment and answer all the questions they had. She would absorb their sympathetic glances and be told, Don’t worry, a man will come along some day by her father, just as he did when she was in high school. 

The thought made her want to vomit.

“You’re free tonight, then?” Nesta blurted.

Cassian stopped midway up the stairs, on the landing. He turned around, brows raised. “Coming for a drink?”

“Eh - no. I was wondering if you wanted to go to dinner,” she grounded out, attempting to sound pleasant, but fully realizing she was not. 

Cassian blinked. “Dinner? With you?”

Nesta nodded, slowly.

She needed a shot.

Or two.

Cassian grinned, hazel eyes glowing. “Yeah. Alright. That sounds...interesting enough for a Friday night.”

Nesta scowled. “Be ready at five-thirty.”

Cassian’s grin widened as he nodded, turned back around, and walked his dog up the stairs. 

Nesta had a feeling she should go back to the drug store and get a bottle of tequila.

Which is exactly what she did.

She would need it.

~~~~~

“Mor and Amren will both be here tomorrow afternoon,” Feyre called from the bathroom, where she had just finished drying her hair and was applying her makeup. “We should all go out tomorrow night.”

“Yeah,” Rhysand agreed, his voice quiet from his bedroom. “We should.”

“Have you heard anything else from Az?”

“No,” Rhysand said, and she could hear him sigh. “I can’t believe Amarantha….what a bitch.”

Rhysand had his own reasons for hating Amarantha, on top of her putting Mila in harm’s way. They had dated for a little while the summer after high school, even though Amarantha was a few years older than them. She was a bitch then, too. Amarantha moved on from Rhysand fairly quickly, her drug problem got significantly worse, and then she got pregnant. 

“Poor Mila,” Feyre agreed, putting on a pale, pink lipstick. “At least she’s got Az.”

Rhysand agreed and met her in the threshold of the bathroom. He looked impressed, eyeing the gray sundress she wore. It reached halfway down her thighs, the fit loose, but hung low enough across her breasts to catch an eye. 

“You look nice,” he smiled.

She shook her head, unable to stop a smile of her own. “You say that like I hardly wear anything cute, ever.”

When Rhysand didn’t answer, she punched him in the shoulder, and he laughed, and that tingly sensation filled Feyre to her very core. It had been happening more within the last week. She would catch Rhysand, watch him when he wasn’t aware, and find him attractive, want to run her fingers through his hair, across his skin. She would lay awake at night, pleasuring herself, and it would be his body, that chest covered in ink, that she would picture. 

And he had no idea.

And she would keep it that way. 

“I do prefer you in your scrubs and sweatshirts, yes,” Rhysand grinned, eyes mischievous. “But, the dress looks good.” 

“Thanks for coming with me,” Feyre said, zipping everything back up into her makeup bag. “My dad always liked you.”

Rhysand nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets, humor fading. “Of course.” 

Feyre pushed past him, her shoulder brushing along his arm, as she hurried into her room. “Should I wear sandals?”

“I assume they’ll come off the minute we walk through the front door, so does it really matter?” Rhysand asked, following her and dropping himself onto the side of her mattress. 

“Yes,” Feyre said. “It does.”

Rhysand chuckled. “Fine. Yes, sandals.” 

“Brown or white?”

Rhysand pretended to think about it for a long time. Too long. 

“You are the worst at helping a woman get ready,” Feyre laughed, bending down to observe the shoes in the bottom of her closet.

Rhysand snickered, but he didn’t deny it. His eyes lingered as he watched her bend over. “Wear the black ones.”

Feyre gave him an intrigued glance before pulling on her black sandals and looking at herself in the floor length mirror. 

She turned to Rhysand, brows raised. “Good enough to impress my father, whom I haven’t spoken to in months?” 

“Well,” Rhysand began, eyes soft, “I think you look beautiful. Who cares what he thinks.” 

“You’re too nice to me.” Feyre meant it as a joke, but her voice came out quiet. She had a feeling her cheeks were turning pink, but she hoped that they weren’t, or that he didn’t notice.

He was watching her, his gaze unwavering. 

And then he sucked in a breath, stood, and smiled. “Well, ready? We should get going.”

Feyre nodded, that feeling still flying about wildly in the pit of her stomach. “Ready.”

“Alright. Let me get my shoes and my wallet.” 

He left, and Feyre finally let out the breath she felt she’d been holding.

The way he was looking at her…

She didn’t think she was imagining it anymore. 

~~~~~

Elain had a long list of things to do that day and she had managed to get through them all. Now, she was at her final stop, a flower stand outside of the grocery store. Her reusable bag was tossed over her shoulder, full of goods that would make up their feast. Now, she needed to arrange a beautiful centerpiece. 

“A dozen tulips,” she smiled, once the owner had asked what she would like. “Pink and white, please.”

He nodded and gathered a bundle before wrapping them up and handing them over. Elain paid, thanked him for the beautiful flowers, and stepped to walk away.

“Lain!”

Elain spun around, smiling at Mila, who was running toward her, Azriel close behind. 

“I didn’t see you today,” she said, wrapping her arms around Elain’s legs. “I missed you!”

Elain had spent every day for the last week playing games with Mila while Azriel worked. She was a great kid - kind, funny, polite. Elain enjoyed her time with the little one.

“I’m sorry I was gone. I had a lot of errands to run today. My sisters are coming over for dinner tonight. It’s a big dinner.”

“Ah, Rhys mentioned that,” Azriel said, taking Mila’s hand to keep her from straying on the busy sidewalk. “We weren’t there too long, today, anyway. Had some stuff to get done this morning, unfortunately. Took longer than expected.”

Elain nodded. That may have been the most he’d said to her at one time. Azriel was distant, she noticed, not having to speak unless spoken to. He hadn’t said a word to her all throughout high school; but, then again, she hadn’t spoken to him either.

They were from two different circles, two different worlds. 

“Well, I hope everything is okay,” Elain replied, quietly.

“I like your flowers,” Mila’s little voice popped up, before Azriel could respond. “They’re sooo pretty.”

Elain smiled and knelt down so that she met Mila at eye level. “Which ones do you like better? Pink or white?”

“Pink!” Mila said, then stuck out her foot. “They match my shoes.”

Elain laughed, softly, as she nodded. “You’re right, they do.” She pulled a pink tulip from the bouquet and handed it to Mila. “Bring this home with you and put it in a nice big cup of water. Make sure it gets sunlight, too.”

Mila’s eyes went wide and she threw her arms around Elain’s neck, who laughed and patted her back, trying not to lose her balance.

“I will,” Mila promised, smiling at the flower, her flower.

Elain stood back up to find Azriel watching her, curiously.

“Well,” Elain began, cheeks heating. “I’ll see you on Monday, then?” 

Azriel nodded.

“Okay,” Elain breathed. She turned back to Mila. “Bye, Mila.”

“Bye, Lain,” she smiled.

As she turned to walk away, Azriel called out, “Elain?”

She turned around.

He was rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks. For the flower. And for watching her, too.”

Elain nodded. “You’re welcome.”

She walked away, wondering if he was watching her walk away, but too nervous to look back and find out. 

On the walk home, her mind wandered. She wondered what their story was, why Mila was staying with her uncle. They seemed to have a strong bond. She wondered what had happened to Mila’s parents. 

Azriel didn’t seem like a horrible person, either, no matter how intense he seemed to be around her. She remembered the first conversation they had, when he told her that he remembered her from high school, and what he remembered her for. Cheerleader. Valedictorian. She was perfect, goody-goody Elain Archeron, top of the totem pole. 

Oh, how far she had fallen on that totem pole. 

She wondered what Azriel thought of when he looked at her, wondered if he truly got to know her what he would think of her, then. But she wanted to know him, wanted to dig inside of his mind. He was mysterious, a notorious rebel - at least, he had been. She didn’t think much had changed since high school. He was still mysterious, still unreadable. 

And utterly handsome. 

Elain got home and started marinating the chicken before finding one of her mother’s old vases and setting the flowers inside with water. She set it in the middle of the table, took a step back, and smiled.

Even with one pink tulip less, it was breath-taking. 

~~~~~

Nesta pounded on his door at five-thirty. 

When a second passed and he didn’t answer, she pounded on it, again.

“Hold the fuck on!” he shouted, then she could hear his heavy footsteps.

The door swung open and she rolled her eyes. He’d yet to put on a shirt, but he was wearing jeans and his boots. His hair was tied back and his eyes were amused.

“In a hurry?” he asked.

“Yes, we have to be at my dad’s in half an hour,” she muttered.

He lifted a brow. “Already meeting your dad, am I?” 

As he went to grab his shirt off the couch, Nesta sighed, “Look. I’m not….on the best terms with my family right now, and my sister has been going through a shit time. She was excited about me bringing my boyfriend, but he bailed a few days ago. I couldn’t tell her that I’d be coming alone, because that would just open a huge can of disappointment, which is basically what I’m known for in my family. So, I asked you to come along and take his place.”

Cassian watched her while the words poured out as he buttoned up his shirt. “I see. So...I’m your boyfriend, then?”

“Pretend,” Nesta added. “Obviously.” 

Cassian tilted his head. “And here I was, thinking you had finally come around and wanted to spend time with me.”

Nesta snorted. “Don’t come if you don’t want to. You know what? This was a mistake-”

She turned to leave but Cassian beat her to the door. He leaned against it, crossed his arms, and grinned. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come. I’m great with parents.”

“What?” Nesta asked, exasperated.

His grin grew. “Say you want me to come, and I’ll come.”

Nesta shook her head. “I’m not saying that.”

The dark barked from the corner, sensing her tone from where he laid on his bed.

“Down, Bryaxis,” Cassian ordered, eyes still on Nesta’s. “Say it.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll please you,” Nesta snapped. “And I don’t want to please you.” 

“Fine, then I’ll stay here, me and Bryaxis will have a drink or two…”

He stepped away from the door and opened it up, gesturing for Nesta to leave. She wanted to slap him in the face, punch him in the balls, but all she managed to do was stomp toward the door, eyes narrowed.

And then she imagined Elain’s disappointment and her father’s endless string of sympathetic questions.

She stopped at the threshold and looked at Cassian, seething. “I want you to come,” she whispered. 

“What?” Cassian asked, pointing to his ear. “Sorry, can’t hear you.”

“I hate you,” she mumbled.

“Hmmm?” Cassian crooned. 

“I want you to come,” she said, over-pronouncing each word. “So grab your fucking keys.”

Cassian’s hand flew to cover his chest, right over his heart. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

“Fuck off,” she mumbled, before exiting his apartment, her middle finger raised high in the air.

Cassian’s laughter just pissed her off more. 

They got into his truck and he drove, the radio on a random rock-station. The sun was bright, although it would be going down soon. 

“So, if I’m playing the part of your lover, I should probably know a little bit about you.”

Nesta sighed. “Fine. What do you think is important to know?” 

“What did you do after high school?” he asked, eyes still on the road. 

“Worked,” Nesta said.

And when she didn’t say anything more, Cassian looked her way. “Mind telling me where?” 

“Odd and end jobs, mostly. The last few years I was a bartender, but I got fired this week.”

Cassian was quiet. Then, he said, “Sorry to hear that.”

Nesta shrugged and looked out the window. 

“What do you like to do for fun?” Cassian asked, hoping to take on a lighter tone. 

“Read,” Nesta said. “Drink.”

“Together?” Cassian asked, brow raised.

Nesta snorted. “Everything is better when you drink.”

“Agreed,” Cassian smiled. 

“I prefer we keep my current lack of employment a secret for the night,” Nesta mumbled. She didn’t want to give her father any fuel. 

“I can do that,” Cassian agreed. “Anything else I should know? How did we meet?” 

“At the bar,” Nesta suggested.

“At the bar?” Cassian asked. “How romantic.”

“Trust me, no one will be surprised,” Nesta said, under her breath. “Up here, first house on the right.”

Cassian pulled into the driveway and parked behind Rhysand’s car. 

It was going to be an interesting night. 

~~~~~

Elain was a natural planner, she was completely in her element.

Feyre caught her eye every now and then and smiled. It had been a long time since they all were under the same roof.

The front door opened and Nesta stepped inside.

She wasn’t alone.

“Cass?” Rhysand asked, looking back and forth between him and Nesta. “The hell are you doing here?”

Cassian smiled, arm flung around Nesta’s shoulder. She tensed, but quickly relaxed. No one could say anything more before Elain hurried in, carrying a tray of cut fruit. 

“Hi! You must be Tomas,” she smiled. “I’m Elain.”

Feyre opened her mouth to say something, but when she did, she came up speechless.

“You can call me Cassian,” he said, smiling in that charming way of his. “Tomas is my middle name, and Nesta prefers it. Apparently, Cassian is a shit name.”

Elain blinked. “Oh, well, nice to meet you, Cassian.” 

“You, too,” he said, before walking into the room and taking a seat by Feyre. 

As Elain went to finish up dinner, Feyre turned to face him. “What the fuck?”

“Long story,” he muttered. “Play along and I’ll fill you in later.”

Feyre had met Tomas before and she was perfectly aware that he and Cassian were two very, very different people. She also knew that her sister didn’t know Cassian that well, so asking him to come was her being desperate.

Feyre had never known Nesta to be desperate.

Nesta sat, too, although she didn’t acknowledge Feyre. Feyre didn’t care, didn’t think anything of it. Her and Nesta had hardly talked in years. 

Her eldest sister stayed quiet while the others chatted and ate Elain’s fruit platter. Half an hour passed before Elain appeared, once more, and invited everyone into the dining room. 

“Where’s dad?” Nesta asked, the first words she had spoken.

Elain’s smile faltered as they all took a seat. “I’m not sure. He said he would be here-”

The front door burst open, and through the opening of the dining room, they could see Isaac stumbling inside.

His brown eyes were wide when he looked up and met everyone’s stares. “I’m-I’m sorry I’m l-late.”

Feyre’s shoulders fell as she looked over to Elain. 

He was trashed. 

Her eyes were wide, her lips parted at the sight of their father, clearly disheveled, clearly drunk. “Dad, it’s family dinner night, remember?” 

“I know, I know, yes,” he said, hurrying into the dining room and taking a seat. “I-I said I’d be here. This looks delicious, Elain, you did wonderful.”

Elain cleared her throat and tried to smile. “Well, let’s dig in, then.”

Feyre loaded her plate with chicken and vegetables, looking around the table as she did so. Rhysand had moved closer to her, as if sensing her discomfort. Nesta was staring at her plate, empty. Elain was picking at a pile of broccoli. And Cassian didn’t know what the hell was going on. 

“You must be Nesta’s boyfriend,” Isaac said, looking at Cassian. “What was your name?”

“Cassian,” he provided.

Isaac shook his head. “N-No, I don’t think so.”

Cassian took a bite of corn. “Pretty sure my name’s Cassian.” 

Isaac looked confused, but he shook it off. “Nesta, I-I’m glad you came. I-I didn’t think you w-would.” 

Nesta’s mouth tightened.

The table fell into silence as everyone picked at their food. 

“What have you been up to?” Isaac asked, looking at Nesta, then to Feyre. “What have any of you been up to? I don’t hear from either of you anymore.”

“Just work,” Feyre said, so Nesta wouldn’t have to. “I broke up with Tamlin a while back. I’m living with Rhys in the city.” 

Isaac looked at Rhysand, eyes wide as if just realizing he was there. “Finally a couple, are you? That’s-That’s great. I always kn-knew you two would end up tog-g-gether.” 

Rhysand paused, but continued eating a second later.

“Just friends, dad,” Feyre said. 

Isaac scoffed. “Whatever you say. We all know w-what’s really going on.”

“Dad,” Elain breathed. “Could you not?”

“And what about you, hmm?” Isaac said, eyes on Nesta. His fork had a piece of chicken stabbed on the end, but he wasn’t eating it. “Are you living with this...Cassian?”

“No,” Nesta answered, shortly. 

“Still scared of commitment?” Isaac asked, leaning over the table on his fist. “She always had trouble with that. Never trusted anyone, pissed off at the world.” 

Nesta said nothing.

Her plate was still empty. 

“I think she’s doing just fine,” Cassian assured him. 

Feyre was still looking at Nesta, on the way she concentrated on the white porcelain disk in front of her. She couldn’t remember the last time they were all together, especially in the same room as their father. Nesta and her father never gotten along, but it had really gone down hill after their mother passed.

“Still making drinks for a living?” Isaac asked, as if Cassian hadn’t said a word. “That’s what I hear you do. M-make drinks.”

Nesta didn’t answer.

“You always get so angry that I’m not there for you,” Isaac slurred. “But here I am, as-asking about your life, and you’ve got nothing to say?”

Nesta slowly looked at her dad. “You’re drunk.” 

Isaac’s eyes narrowed. “I am not.”

Feyre shook her head, and just as she was about to speak, Nesta beat her to it.

“You really think we don’t know when you’re intoxicated?” Nesta laughed, humorlessly. “We’re not children. And we’ve seen you drunk plenty of times. Elain tried to prepare this nice dinner and then you come in here acting like a teenager who snuck into his dad’s liquor cabinet!”

Isaac shook his head, finally setting his fork down. 

Elain looked like she was about to cry. 

“You c-can’t talk to me that w-way,” Isaac said, voice quiet. “I am your father.” 

“Dad-” Feyre began, but Nesta held up a hand, cutting her off.

“I am a grown ass woman,” Nesta said, with a deadly calm. “You’re an embarrassment.”

“Me?” Isaac asked, brows shooting up into his hairline. He looked to Cassian. “Run now, son. This one is going nowhere with her life.”

“Please,” Elain breathed. “Stop.”

Rhysand had his hand on Feyre’s knee under the table to keep it from shaking.

“I think you should go up to bed, dad,” Feyre said, lifting her chin. “Sleep it off.” 

“No,” Nesta said. “Let him say what he has to say. Drunks always tell the truth.” 

Isaac stood and wavered on his feet. “Your mother...good thing she didn’t wait to see how you turned out.”

Elain gasped, and Isaac turned to leave.

But as he did, he fell to the ground, out cold against the hardwood. 

The room was met with silence. 

“Help me get him upstairs,” Feyre mumbled.

Rhysand nodded. 

Elain was in tears.

Nesta was fuming. 

Cassian was sitting in his chair, perfectly still. 

Feyre grabbed her father’s legs as Rhysand lifted him up from under his arms. As they carried him up the stairs to his bedroom, Feyre felt like she was in high school all over again.

Family fights.

Taking care of her drunk, passed out dad.

Isaac telling Nesta that their mother would be ashamed. 

Yeah.

Just like high school.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List (to be tagged, comment or send me an ask!)

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Prompts:

{ “I’m gonna fuck you so hard that you forget you ever met that asshole” - Feysand } -anonymous

{ “How about Nessian needing to fake date when they go home for the holidays?!” } - anonymous

{ “could u pls do like an elriel fic where azriel is like this mysterious bad boy and elain is a goody two shoes lik aaaaa i cant get that image out of my head” } - anonymous

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #fanfic #fanfiction #feysand #nessian #elriel #tacmc AITA