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justabigassnerd · 1 year

Text

Arguments

Pairing - Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x daughter!reader, Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Word count - 3,743

Warnings - broken bones, injuries, inaccurate medical scenes, idk hospital stuff, arguing, yelling, swearing, angst, Jake's a bit of an ass in this

Summary - you get injured while out with Bradley, which kicks Jake into 'dad mode' and causes an argument

A/N - hey y'all! sorry it's been a hot minute since I last uploaded a fic! I have been finishing up uni so it's been a bit all over the place. anyway I won't keep you long with this A/N, it's a new part of Hangman junior and as per y'all, please send in requests, feedback, and enjoy!!!

Jake and Bradley had never been a couple to argue. They had a ‘let’s agree to disagree’ mindset when it came to anything the two could potentially make a spat out of. When kids at your school complained about their parents arguing you couldn’t help but feel bad for them because your dad and Bradley never argued. You knew arguing was commonplace between most couples and you were sure that your dad and Bradley would argue at least once during their relationship and all you could hope was that you wouldn’t bear witness to it.

One day, while Jake was out with Coyote, Payback, and Fanboy, you and Bradley decided to head to the nearest park and have a walk around to enjoy the warm spring weekend. The park was bustling with parents and children, couples, and the elderly. It seemed as if everyone had the same idea as you and Bradley, not that you’d complain about it, it made you happy to see so many people out and about. You watched as parents swung their children in between them as their child shrieked with laughter, you saw couples having picnics, tossing grapes at each other to see if they could catch them in their mouths, and you saw elderly people sat together by the pond, tossing grain out for the ducks who greedily darted to the food as they quacked noisily.

“Did you ever do stuff like this with your parents? Go to the park?” You ask curiously, looking up at Bradley to gauge his reaction, worried you might have upset him with the words you didn’t think about before they left your mouth.

“Parks, very rarely, I was more of a beach guy, my parents too. According to my mum, my dad had to drag me almost kicking and screaming from the beach when it was time to go home.” Bradley chuckles, reminiscing on the faint memories he had with his parents.

“Your parents sound like they were lovely people. I wish I could’ve met them.” You say, smiling softly at Bradley who lifts his hand and ruffles your hair with a smile of his own.

“Oh, they would’ve loved you. My mum especially.” Bradley says as he surveys the park, watching a dog bounding across the park as its owner tosses a ball across the grass. He had always wanted a dog growing up, maybe he’d speak to Jake about adding a pet to the family.

“I bet I would’ve loved them too.” You reply, your smile not fading as you look back across the park. You and Bradley continue your walk, admiring the sights and the birds flying overhead. As you walk through the park, you begin to head down some steps to walk along a lower path of the park but just as you near the bottom of the stairs, your ankle rolls and you tumble down the remaining stairs, hearing a crack from your right arm as it shot out to try and stop your fall.

“y/n! Are you hurt?” Bradley said worriedly, darting to your side and crouching alongside you as you cradled your arm and blinked back tears.

“My arm hurts, I heard it crack. I think it’s broken” You say, fighting to keep your voice from wobbling at the pain. Bradley pulls his hoodie off, using it to make a makeshift sling to keep your arm still, apologising quickly when you wince in pain.

“Just your arm? Nothing else? You didn’t hit your head or anything?” Bradley asks, avoiding touching your arm as he scans you over for any other injuries.

“My ankle hurts a little, but my arm is the worst.” You admit, leaning against Bradley as he eases you up onto your feet. Glancing around you see concerned onlookers who glance away the second you make eye contact with them and continue on their way.

“Can you walk? We should get you to the hospital and the Bronco is almost a five-minute walk away.” Bradley asks softly, watching you wince as you accidentally jog your arm.

“Yeah, I can walk. I’ll be fine.” You say, trying to assure Bradley that you’ll be okay. With a slight nod, Bradley leads you to the Bronco, carefully helping you into the front passenger seat and helping you plug in your seat belt before rounding the car to get in the driver’s seat.

“I’ll call your dad when you’re getting treated. I don’t want him to worry too much.” Bradley says as he begins driving to the hospital, fighting the urge to speed the whole way there. He was silently dreading Jake’s reaction to this. You were the most precious thing in the world to Jake and he’d shoot into overprotective dad mode whenever you were in a situation where you could get hurt. Bradley also knew how Jake reacted when you were hurt.

“It’s dad. He will worry no matter what.” You say with a weak smile as you glance over at Bradley who shakes his head with a soft laugh, trying to alleviate his concerns.

It didn’t take Bradley long to drive to the hospital, helping you out once he parked and leading you into the building. He approaches the receptionist and explains what happened and the receptionist simply hands him some paperwork and a pen and tells him to fill it out in the waiting room. Bradley heads with you into the waiting room and sits down in one of the uncomfortable seats and stares at the paperwork in front of him. You provide him with the answers he needs and not long after finishing the paperwork, a nurse enters the waiting room and calls your name.

“You go on ahead, kid. I’ll call Jake.” Bradley whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before you get up and follow the nurse. The second you leave his eyesight, Bradley pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Jake, the call rings through to answerphone so Bradley waits for the beep so he can leave a voice message.

“Hey, Jake, I just wanted to call and let you know that y/n had a fall while we were in the park, and I reckon she broke her arm. We’re at the hospital now and they’ve taken her off to I assume get an x-ray and sort her out. Just give me a call when you get this. Love you.” Bradley says into the phone before hanging up and letting out a small sigh. Bradley remains sat in the waiting room, anxiously bouncing his leg, and fighting back memories of stuffy hospital waiting rooms he often spent time in during his youth. After what felt like hours, a nurse stuck her head into the room and called Bradley’s name, making him leap out of his seat instinctively.

“y/n is just fine. Her arm is broken but it’s being put in a cast as we speak. We just needed to grab you so the doctor can go through medications and care with you.” The nurse explains as she leads Bradley through various corridors to the room you were in, arm outstretched as the staff tended to it, putting it into a plaster cast.

“You okay, y/n/n?” Bradley asks, easing down into a chair next to you and studying you carefully.

“Yeah. They’ve given me some pain meds, so my arm doesn’t hurt as much.” You say, looking over at Bradley who nods with a soft smile. When the doctor finishes putting your arm in a cast, she turns to look at Bradley as she grabs her clipboard.

“You must be y/n’s father, correct?” The doctor asks, looking at Bradley who glances at you nervously.

“Yeah, he’s my dad.” You answer for Bradley, smiling up at him before looking at the doctor who nods.

“Okay, we just need to talk to you about caring for the injury. We’ve prescribed some medication and we have a care leaflet here about making sure her arm heals well and the cast remains undamaged. If y/n experiences any pain that isn’t being combated by the pain medication come back and we’ll see what we can do.” The doctor explains, handing Bradley a leaflet as you get up from the chair. Bradley thanks the doctor and signs some extra paperwork that needs signing before being allowed to take you back home. As you pick up your medication, Bradley checks his phone and fights back a frown at not a single notification from Jake. He figured Jake would’ve listened to his voicemail by now and would’ve either texted him or called him back. Bradley sent another message through to Jake as the two of you exit the hospital, letting him know that you were heading home. Bradley helps you into the Bronco and drives back home. As you enter the house, you kick your shoes off and turn to face Bradley in the hallway.

“Can I go for a nap? These painkillers are wiping me out.” You admit with a slight yawn.

“Of course, y/n/n. Just make sure you prop your arm up on a pillow or something. I don’t want an army of angry doctors coming my way on the first day.” Bradley chuckles as you roll your eyes but nod regardless. Bradley watches you head upstairs before heading into the living room where he sat down, and his leg began bouncing rapidly at the lack of response from Jake. He tried to put the tv on to distract himself and after almost half an hour his phone pinged with a message from Jake.

‘I’m on my way home.’

The message was blunt and to the point and Bradley immediately knew that he may be in trouble. Bradley knew that Jake was probably speeding the whole way home right now and that he would be envisioning the absolute worst. Before too long, Bradley heard the tell-tale sign of Jake’s truck pulling into the driveway and then not long after, Jake came barrelling into the house, making Bradley leap up from where he was sitting.

“Where is she?” Jake asks, panic evident in his voice as Bradley approaches him.

“She’s up in her room having a nap. She’s fine so we should just leave her be for a moment.” Bradley says as Jake barges past him, heading up the stairs with Bradley hot on his heels. The second Jake reaches your room he opens your door and sticks his head in your room, seeing you lying fast asleep on your bed. Relieved to see you okay, he closes the door before rounding on Bradley.

“How did this happen? Penny lets me and the others use her boat one time, and my daughter gets hurt and I don’t find out until I’m back on land.” He asks harshly, glaring at Bradley whose eyebrows knit together in confusion.

“I told you in the voicemail. She fell down a couple of steps and broke her arm when she tried to break her fall.” Bradley explains.

“And you didn’t try to stop her from falling?” Jake says angrily, his glare intensifying.

“It happened so fast, Jake! By the time I realised she was falling, she had hit the floor. I did what I could. I took her to the hospital and got her the treatment she needed. There was nothing else I could’ve done.” Bradley retorts, defending himself from Jake’s anger.

“Bradley, in letting you in my life all I ask is you look after my kid, and you couldn’t even do that!” Jake said, his anger reaching an all-time high.

“Jake, that’s not fair. I did everything I could have done in that situation. y/n is fine. Yes, she has a broken arm, but she was smiling and talkative before she went up to bed. Nothing has happened to her apart from an injured arm. It’s still your kid in there.” Bradley says, fighting the urge to raise his voice.

“I can’t be doing this with you. I don’t think I can even look at you right now.” Jake scoffs, making Bradley’s heart ache at the harsh words.

“I see. Well, if you need me, I’ll be at Phoenix’s.” Bradley says, moving around Jake and heading downstairs, grabbing his keys, and jumping into the Bronco while Jake remains rooted in place. After taking a couple of deep breaths, Jake enters your room and perches himself on the edge of your bed as you blink your eyes open.

“Hey, dad.” You say with a small smile which Jake couldn’t help but return.

“Hey, sweetheart. Are you feeling okay?” He asks softly as you nod.

“The pain meds are doing their job. Where’s Bradley?” You suddenly ask, propping yourself up on your good arm and glancing behind your dad as if Bradley would pop out of nowhere.

“He’s downstairs.” Jake lies, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face.

“Don’t lie to me dad. I heard the two of you arguing outside. What did you say to him?” You ask, glaring at him in a way that Jake could only assume was the way he was looking at Bradley just moments prior.

“You wouldn’t understand.” Jake says dismissively, not wanting to tell you about what happened.

“I bet I would. Now tell me what happened.” You demand, making Jake fall silent before he sighs heavily.

“Bradley let you get hurt so-”

“So you yelled at him? Dad, are you serious?” You cut in, your glare intensifying as you process what happened.

“y/n, in being part of our life he should be looking after you.” Jake attempts to justify his anger.

“He did look after me. He took me straight to the hospital and was there the whole time. He has all the details about my medication and how to care for my cast and injury. Do you? I guess not because the first thing you did when you walked through the door was yell at him.” You spit, angrier than you’ve ever been before at your dad. Jake remains silent at your outburst, giving you time to speak once more.

“Put yourself in Bradley’s shoes for a second, dad. Imagine I was Bradley’s daughter, and I was out with you, and I fell and hurt myself. How would you feel?” You ask, watching as Jake processes your words.

“I’d feel bad. Like I could’ve stopped you from hurting yourself if I was quick enough.” Jake replies, looking down at your duvet.

“Okay, now imagine you were feeling like that and then the second Bradley got home he yelled at you and made you feel even worse. Because that’s probably how you made Bradley feel.” You say, making Jake feel awful for the way he had treated Bradley.

“Dad, I know you were worried about me and that’s okay. But you can’t treat Bradley like that for something that wasn’t his fault. I know you love Bradley, and he loves you too. Don’t let this argument ruin your relationship.” You say, wiping your eyes quickly so your dad doesn’t see your tears, but Jake sees them.

“Oh, sweetheart. This argument won’t ruin our relationship. Yes, I was angry at Bradley, but I won’t be divorcing him over this.” Jake says reassuringly, helping you sit up properly before sitting alongside you, wrapping an arm around you carefully and pulling you into his side as you fight back more tears.

“You promise?” You ask through tears, looking up at your dad as he runs a hand up and down your back.

“I promise y/n/n.” Jake promises. He had learnt in raising you that he shouldn’t make promises he couldn’t keep. But his relationship with Bradley was important to him, and he knew he’d be an idiot if he let Bradley go after one silly argument. Jake knew he was in the wrong, that he let his protectiveness get too much and he took it out on someone who didn’t deserve it. Someone who took his daughter in like his own and cared for her when Jake wasn’t around.

“You just relax up here, okay? I’m going to call Bradley and see if I can talk to him. Then I’ll cook us up something to eat.” Jake says once you’ve calmed down enough to form coherent thoughts. He watches as you wipe your eyes once more and nod, allowing Jake to detangle himself from you. As Jake stands up, he presses a kiss to the top of your head before he heads downstairs to call Bradley. Once Jake reaches the living room, he pulls his phone out of his pocket and unlocks it and finds Bradley’s contact, staring at it for a minute before pressing the number and holding the phone up to his ear. The phone rang for what felt like forever, Jake could imagine Bradley sitting watching the phone ring while Phoenix told him to ignore the call. He couldn’t even be mad if that was the case, he knew he deserved it.

“Hello?” Jake was taken aback to hear Bradley’s voice, having fully convinced himself that Bradley would let him go to voicemail.

“Bradley, hi.” Jake breathes, failing to come up with anything else.

“Can I help you?” Bradley replies, a clear exasperation in his voice as he speaks.

“Can I talk to you?” Jake asks, biting his bottom lip as he awaits a response. He hears Bradley move away from the phone, mumbling to Phoenix before returning to the phone.

“Okay.” Bradley says simply.

“What?” Jake says, not expecting Bradley to just talk over the phone.

“You wanted me to talk to you so I’m talking to you.” Bradley replies and Jake could only imagine him sitting back against the sofa with that cocky eyebrow raise of his.

“I mean, come home. I want to talk to you face to face.” Jake says, hoping that Bradley agrees. Jake hears Phoenix whispering to Bradley before the phone clearly gets handed over.

“Listen here, Bagman, you better clean up this act of yours. I get that y/n got hurt but it was out of everyone’s control. If I ever find out that you’ve spoken to Bradley like that again I’m going to fuck you up so bad, you’ll never be able to fly again.” Phoenix threatens, making a shiver crawl up Jake’s back at the intensity of her words. He knew Phoenix’s threats weren’t empty. He knew how close Phoenix and Bradley were and how fiercely protective they were of one another.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less Phoenix.” Jake manages to reply, grabbing the tv remote and turning the tv off when he finally registers that it’s been left on all this time. Jake hears shuffling on the other end of the line and the jangling of keys.

“He’ll be over soon.” Phoenix says quickly before hanging up, leaving Jake pulling the phone away from his ear and staring at it as he held it limply in his lap. Jake sat in silence as he waited to hear the familiar sound of the Bronco pulling up outside. When he heard the rumble of the all-familiar vehicle, Jake shot to his feet, his phone clattering to the floor at the sudden movement as he wrings his hands nervously. Bradley enters the house and locks eyes with Jake who has moved to stand in the living room doorway, his eyes red-rimmed, a clear signal he’d been holding back tears.

“Bradley, I am so sorry for what I said. I was scared and I took it out on you, which I should not have done. You looked after y/n and got her the treatment she needed. You’re a perfect parent for y/n and we’re both so lucky to have you. Now I don’t expect you to forgive me straight away, y/n needs you and she ripped me a new one when she found out what we were arguing about. I know I don’t deserve you Bradley, but I’d be a fool to let you go.” Jake says, clearing his throat slightly after speaking to try and hide the emotions. Bradley remained silent for but a moment before he took a step forward and took Jake’s hand in his.

“Jake, I’m not going anywhere. I don’t appreciate the way you spoke to me, yes, but I know your anger came from a place of worry. y/n’s the most important thing in your life and I get that. Just, if there’s a next time, I’m with y/n and something happens, please trust I’ve taken care of her as best I can. I love that kid so much and I’d move heaven and earth to keep her safe so please don’t assume I don’t care about her because I do.” Bradley says, letting Jake know how he feels about everything. Jake nods slightly, blinking back more threatening tears.

“I know you love her, and I was so stupid to even think you didn’t. y/n was so worried when she learnt about the argument. You mean the world to her, and you mean the world to me too. We can’t lose you.” Jake says as Bradley tugs him ever so closer.

“You Seresin’s are stuck with me.” Bradley says softly, his small, yet loving smile crossing his face.

“Aren’t we lucky to be stuck with you, Bradshaw?” Jake teases, smirking in response as Bradley tugs him into a kiss, the two men relishing in each other’s embrace.

“Are you two okay now?” The two men jump apart at the sound of your voice where they see you standing on the stairs, a cocky smile on your face as you look at them.

“Yes, we’re okay now.” Bradley says, both him and Jake extending an arm out towards you so they could bring you into a group hug. After hugging for a moment, Jake pulls away, clapping his hands together and looking between you and Bradley.

“Alright, I’ll cook us up some food. I did promise, didn’t I, y/n?” Jake says looking at you as you nod, eager to have some of your dad’s homecooked food. Jake then heads to the kitchen with you and Bradley following. As you and your dads occupy the kitchen, you watch with a smile as Bradley turns on the radio, serenading your dad in his soft voice as Jake prepares what he needs to make a meal. You watch the two men with a smile, grateful that you had both of them in your life.

taglist (comment or ask to be added):

@zbeez-outlet @kaceywithak @tsnelf7 @starkleila @cassadilasworld @shanimallina87 @madstxo @chaoticassidy @padsdarlg

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yelenabelovasbxtch · 10 months

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Crush On An Archer PT.1

a/n: Hey! Omg long time no see! I kinda maybe lost interest in writing for a bit there but tbh I think I'm back. No promises because I don't want to promise and then break your hearts but also I realllyyyy enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it! Will def be making a part two in coming days so stay tuned. LMK if you want to be added to the taglist, I am going to put some tags of past taglists below just in case they are interested in reading :) ALSO! Special shout out to @scmg11 because their writing is honestly what made me wanna get back into it. So,,I hope you enjoy!

Kate X Fem!Reader

Concept: Reader has a crush on Kate (school/Uni setting) and she doesn't know how to tell her.

Warning: Cussing, mentions of smut, IM TRYING TO WRITE SLOW BURN BUT BEAR WITH ME ITS NEW!

Word Count: 2.7k

You’re a month into your summer vacation and things couldn’t be more…boring. You love and appreciate your parents dearly for putting out the money so that you could attend a prestigious school in New York with a kick ass archery team but does it ever suck to be this far from all your friends for four months. To make the situation work, your dad had to transfer jobs to another state that pulls in a little more money annually with slightly more affordable housing but that means you aren’t even near the people you grew up around. Rural Mississippi is a fairly big step from living in Boston. Boston at least had people, out here it’s like you’re lucky if you get to meet a neighbour because the land has us all so far apart. In all honesty, although it’s boring, you really have one specific reason for being so bummed out. Towards the end of your last semester, you got started getting closer with one of the girls a year younger on your team, Kate. Typically the older girls competed and practised together and the younger girls did the same. Although you two were only a year apart it’s just how things worked out, so you didn’t cross paths very often. However, one day you were walking home from class, stopped to get coffee and basically bumped into her. The meeting was really brief but it was enough to make you catch feelings almost instantly.

Your interest in her grew as you followed her on Instagram and she followed back. Obviously you took a peak at her page and scrolled to the bottom laughing at the really cringey posts from 2015 she had still up. All you wanted to do was talk to her again but you didn’t know how, although she was a year younger than you she intimidated you so much. Her deep blue eyes were honestly enough to make you stutter whenever you had the chance to talk to her. A month had gone by already and you could not wait to get back to school so you could see her again. Luckily, coach has yearly “team-building” days before the season starts and they’re about half way through the summer so hopefully you can talk to her before then and maybe convince her to hang out when you come back to school.

Over the next week or so you liked a few story posts that she’d upload every now and again but the day finally came where you felt like you could swipe up and respond to it…y’know…maybe spark a little conversation.

“Damn Bishop, is this a new bow?” In response to a story post of her showing off some of her off season training.

“Haha yeah it is, flips out and everything…it's really freakin’ cool.” She replied almost instantly and that made a giant warm smile come across your face.

Shit– what do you say back? Your main goal was honestly to keep the convo going so you could subtly mention down the line hanging out with her.

“Yeah that’s sick, wow I’d kill to try something like that out.”

“Well next time I see you, please by all means give it a shot” She replies back.

“Might just have to take you up on that. How’s your summer going anyways?”

“It’s alright, kind of boring though. All my friends from school move back home and I am working for my mom’s company over the summer so it all is just kind of dull. I miss going out and having fun. Wbu?”

“Yeah, I hear that. I am SO bored here. I would kill to fast forward to the fall, I miss being at school honestly. There’s only so much I can do by myself here during the summer.”

“Ugh right! I want it to be school again too but don’t get me wrong, I love the summer, the weather is great here recently and the nightlife is amazing too. I just have nobody to go with, you know.”

“Yeah I get it. Trust me, if I could be there to go out with you I would, there is definitely no nightlife here haha.”

Shit. That wasn’t too forward was it? She is taking a while to respond to you. She hasn’t even opened the message yet.

*4 minutes later*

“Well, you’re going to be around for that team-building thing coach has us doing in a couple of weeks right?”

“Yeah, I should be.”

“Well, we can go out then if you want? Me and a few friends had plans but they’re all on the team and I’m sure they’d love to have you there too.”

“Yeah, that sounds great I’d love to!”

The conversation pretty much ended there and your contact with her was fairly limited, just a small comment here or there until you finally got to fly back to school for summer training. You settle back into the apartment you left a couple months ago, everything is still a mess where you left it but the kitchen and living room are even filthier since you are not around to clean up much after your roommates. You decided to wait until your team practice to talk to Kate about hanging out again. You didn’t want to come on too strong but also a small part of you feels like she forgot what she said months ago and you won’t end up seeing her, not outside of team stuff at least.

You grabbed your gear and headed to the field where practice was being held. You saw some of your friends from last year and decided to catch up with them before coach pulled you all in to start practice. You were trying your best not to make it obvious but your eyes were tracking all around you looking for Kate but she was nowhere to be seen.

*Whistle* “Okay team! Let’s bring it in. First, I just want to say thank you to everyone for making the effort to come back to campus for this, meeting I–”

“SORRY SORRY SORRY!” You hear the coach interrupted as footsteps are fast approaching the circle of archers.

“Hi Kate.” Says coach.

“I am SO sorry. My driver was running late and then there was traffic because of a giant accident, I think there was some battle in the streets again, I don’t know, either way, my bad coach, won’t happen again…I promise.” She says with the most adorable grin that is absolutely saying she will be late again.

“It’s alright Kate, it happens, I was just telling the team how thankful I am that everyone could make the trip back to campus for this.” Coach went on to talk about the drills you were doing for the day and man was it hard to not be in awe watching her. You tried your best not to stare all day because the last thing you wanted to do was make it obvious but fuck it felt impossible. The day came to an end and you packed up your gear, Kate was talking with the other seniors on the team as they were gathering their things and started to head out. You could feel your window closing to talk to her but interrupting her conversation with her friends and “inviting” yourself out with them just felt too weird and uncomfortable. If it wasn’t meant to be then it wasn’t meant to be but you would kill to be able to just spend an hour with her.

You watched as she started to walk away towards the parking lot with her friends when all of a sudden she motioned for them to hold on a minute and she turned around and jogged over to you.

“Hey y/n! Sorry we didn’t get to catch up much during practice, I saw your shooting though it’s looking good.”

Yeah…your face is bright red. Control your shit.

“Anyways, me and a couple friends are going out later tonight to a party that one of their friends is hosting. It’s like a Hawaiian beach summer nights themed type of party so if you have something like that to wear, that would be great.”

“Yeah, I might have something, I’ll take a look when I get home.”

“Cool! I’ll text you the address once I get it off my friend and I’ll see you there?”

“Yeah, sounds good!”

“Here, why don’t you put your number into my phone, I don’t like using DM’s that much.”

You take Kate’s phone out of her hand and fill out a contact for yourself, praying that she can’t hear your heart beating out of your chest.

“Cool, thanks, I’ll send you a text in a bit.” She says with a smile and then runs off to re-join her friends.

It seems silly sitting by your phone and literally watching the minutes tick by waiting for her to text you but that’s all you could do. The anticipation felt like it was killing you.

Your phone finally buzzed with a mystery number attached, “Hey y/n! It’s Kate. So…slight change of plans.”

Fuck. Is she bailing? Your eyes were glued on the three dots as she typed and you watched as they disappeared and reappeared.

“Turns out the party is actually around the corner from my place so if you wanted to just come here first, we could pre-game and shit and then walk over together? My friends said they were going out to get their hair done so they’ll be running late.”

“Hey Kate, yeah no problem that works for me just send me your address and lmk what time you want me there.”

Kate dropped a pin of her location to you with the text attached telling you to come over at 7pm.

7pm rolled around and you were already there outside but you kind of felt like you should wait another minute or two so you weren’t RIGHT on time. Or is it weird to be a minute late? But wouldn’t being on time be weirder? Whatever, you decided to just wait a minute and then knock on her door.

Knocking on her door was the most nerve wracking thing you ever did, you were genuinely shitting bricks.

“HEY! Come in come in!” Kate eagerly yells at you as she swings the door open. She’s wearing shorts with a bright purple bikini top and a button down Hawaiian shirt over top that doesn’t have a single button done up. Are you starring? Yes. Probably? Absolutely you are.

“Make yourself at home, feel free to grab a drink from the fridge, my roommates are out of town and left all their alcohol so help yourself.” She said with a laugh.

You heard that right? Her roommates are out of town. Just the two of you…you never know.

You grabbed a drink from the fridge and took a seat on the couch next to her and yeah…the drink started going down faster than usual because of all the nerves in your stomach. The two of you made small talk for awhile but the conversation started flowing a little more naturally about 2 drinks in. Were you still kind of awkward as hell? Yeah…a little. But at least you warmed up to her a bit and weren’t acting so weird. About an hour later, her friends showed up and grabbed you guys to head over to the party. Honestly, things were going so well with just the two of you that you didn’t even want to go to this party but if it meant you got to spend more time with her then there you were. You got to the party and you honestly knew practically nobody. You weren’t exactly a social butterfly but Kate clearly was. She was talking to EVERYBODY. The boys at the party especially loved her. There was lots of laughing and flirting going on, you could feel the jealousy building but acting out was definitely not an option. You ended up socialising with a few of the other people at the party but for most of the night you stuck by Kate’s side, the two of you got pretty drunk together, pouring shots for one another and dancing in the pit of people to extremely loud music. There was a point where it felt like it was just you and her and nobody else was there while the music was blasting into your ears and the two of you were jumping together to the beat and singing out the lyrics to whatever song was on at the time. Kate got really close to you until some guy would come and pull her away in an attempt to make a move on her. Although, it never actually happened. Kate always ended up finding her way back to you. At one point she grabbed your hand and pulled you into the middle of the crowd as the two of you sang (screamed) the lyrics to “love story” into each other's faces. The party, as all do, started to simmer down. You guys actually ended up being some of the last people at the party, you stuck around to the point where the music was gone and most people were just sitting around chatting halfway sober.

“Hey, I think I’m going to go home, I am super tired right now.” Kate says to you.

“Okay, I’ll walk with you, I left my bag at your place anyways so I have to grab it.”

“Right, sounds good.”

Although the two of you had been singing and dancing for hours, she looked just as perfect as when you left and you were trying your hardest not to stare at her while the two of you were walking side-by-side.

The walk back to her place was pretty quick, when the two of you got inside you went to grab your bag and get your things together. You were desperately trying to figure out what to say to her while you were organising your stuff. You didn’t want to come on too strong but you also want to make sure that she knows you had a good time…I guess just tell her exactly that?

“I had a really good time tonight, thanks again for inviting me.” You say as you’re leaning against the wall in her hallway.

“Of course, anytime. And I did too. We should really hang out more when we come back to school.” She replies.

Kate walks towards you and stops about a foot away leaning up against the doorframe to her bedroom. The hallway is super narrow and all you can think about is pinning her against the wall while you kiss down her neck and pull her tight by her waist.

“Yeah I think so too. I guess I should probably head out.” You say as she looks at you with the softest eyes that you swore said “please stay”. You lingered for a second longer as the two of you were looking at each other, tired, kind of tipsy and on the verge of ripping each other's clothing off. All you wanted was for her to actually ask you to stay a little longer but before she had the chance you were already walking towards the door.

“Have a good night y/n.” She says. “Text me when you get home safe.”

“I will. Sleep well Kate.” You reply as you turn to look at her with a smile and step out the front door.

That goodbye felt different. It felt like there were still feelings in the air and lots that wanted to be said that wasn't. It felt like the perfect opportunity with nobody around after an amazing night together has passed but you regret none of it. Although you weren’t able to get a confirmation on whether or not Kate even likes women like you do, you knew there was definitely a type of tension between the two of you that she definitely noticed.

-- END OF PT 1 --

Taglist: @yelenaslyubov @youreatotalposer @jeyramarie @flosbelova @bridgecitybrad @justthis-stuff @chloe7076 @ailenepuff @ravenclawbitch426 @mellowladyangel @amcg0605-blog @kassies-take @yelenaswife1996 @wandanatchick @lilroachsworld @inluvwithfictionalwomen @x666hours @natashaswife4125 @onetruwhore @karmasgxrl @hopelesslyfallenninlove @setsuna1415 @swiftdazer @imobsessedwithmilfss @madamevirgo @louisprettybab @splatalia-jumpanova @jediluka @t00manyfand0ms

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop fanfiction #kate bishop smut #hawkeye #hailee steinfeld fanfic #hawkeye fanfic #hawkeye series #hailee steinfeld wlw #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfield x reader #hailee steinfeld smut #marvel fanfic #marvel #wlw

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och405o · 5 months

Note

Can I please request haruto as a boyfriend thx xoxoxo

Haruto bf headcanon

Andy’s notes: I am embarrassed to say this has been in my drafts for 3 months. I am so sorry for the wait but I’m going to try and be back and more active. Uni is just kicking my ass rn 😭 again I’m so sorry.

Haruto would be a little awkward at first

Hear me out

He would be super sweet and caring,

Just.. maybe a little awkward..

I feel like he would be pretty inexperienced

But that’s okay bc he had you 🫶

I think he wouldn’t be super clingy

He likes his space but when he gets tired or when he missed you

He can be a teddy bear just don’t tell the members

He would love to share his music with you

Haruto would just sit next to you and give you one of his AirPods in complete silence just so you could listen to his music with him.

Dating Haruto would be so comfortable

Like you never have to worry about being uncomfortable around him

He would always be there for you

And care for you so much

Just might not be able to find the words to tell you

Definitely more of an acts of service kinda bf!!

But a sweet one nonetheless

#kpop #treasure reactions #treasure imagines #treasure haruto #haruto watanabe #treasure #treasure x reader

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boogleboot · 6 months

Text

One year since Fateheart

A year ago I posted Fateheart: A Starless Seaquel to Ao3 (link here) - the mammoth fanfic sequel to Erin Morgenstern's The Starless Sea.

Fateheart has had an incredible year, and has completely changed my life, by all measures. Posting it has connected me to so many wonderful people and helped bring together a genuine community over on the Starless Sea discord (which you should join hey here's a link) who have supported me through the last hellish few weeks of uni assignments as well as months and months of creative projects and ambitious fic writing.

So on this blessed solstice day, here is a lil update for those who are following the slow progress of the unofficial Starless Sea canon as developed in Fateheart.

Oh that's right, baby. It ain't just one fan sequel. It's gonna be uhhh (checks notes) at least four.

I really really wanted to get the next book out at this year mark - on the solstice and year anniversary - but despite hitting that 50k mark for NaNoWriMo last month it just didn't happen (it's been a rough couple months - I am currently doing a master's course that is kicking my ass).

But I am determined to get Fever Pitch, the next full-novel-length follow-up story, out in full as soon as humanly possible. Toward that end I have gone ahead and made a posting for it. The first few chapters are done and have been done for a while, so I shall slowly be posting them as I work on the rest.

Watch this space!!!!

I never really intended Fever Pitch to be a fully-fledged sequel. Mind you, I didn't intend that with Fateheart either, but in a different way. In my mind the next book in the sequence is and always has been a story called The Lotus Flowers. Nearly 180k words of that one exist, but it is too important a story not to get right. So I'm gonna give it as much time as it needs - and it may need quite a lot.

But in working on Lotus Flowers, I came to realise that a lot of the world-building and character development which I was taking for granted was in fact not as obvious to the reader as it would be to me - LF is, after all, set ten or so years after Fateheart, and considering all of The Starless Sea (at least for Zachary and Dorian) takes place in about two weeks, ten years is space enough for a LOT of story.

So in order to strengthen my sense of where Zachary, Dorian, and Kat have found themselves by the ten year mark, I started noting down some of the more important moments from that decade of time. And then just kept writing. And writing and writing and writing until a handful of them were fully fledged novellas.

I have put up the polished ones - they are collected together on Ao3 as 'Fateheart: The Extended Canon'. Which is. A bit pretentious. But whatever. (Also I'm not kidding myself that all the fics in this collection are vital plot points, but there are a couple standout ones which are Canon Events in my mind, that will be referenced in later full-length fics. Namely A Heart That Won't Break, Death in the Valley, and The Man Named Sky.)

But one of these short (aspirationally) stories seemed as I wrote to have particular space in it for so much of that world-building and exposition, and that was Fever Pitch.

Fever Pitch takes place five years after the birth of the Harbour, and the events of Fateheart, and is an Alice-in-Wonderland themed story which explores the lives of all the main Fateheart characters (Zachary, Dorian, Kat, and Leander, namely), introduces some new players (shoutout Tabuzae and Kirsty Baudeville), as well as establishing the limits and life of the Harbour they live in.

I'd say a solid sixty percent of this story currently exists, and I'm gonna amp up the pressure on myself to complete it by posting it as I go - something I've never done before, so bear with me.

It means so much to me that there are people out here who care as much about these people and this little world on the Starless Sea as I do - even more so that so many people have loved my offerings of more story. The above photo is of my christmas present from a housemate who was one of Fateheart's earliest readers. It's so beautiful it makes my heart leap.

We rise, we fall - as stories do.

I am committed to seeing this story through, by the way - all the way to the end - and that is gonna take years. But we start here - with the next book in the series. First few chapters to appear over Christmas.

Until then, happy solstice. To seeking x

#The Starless Sea #Zachary/Dorian #Fateheart #fanfiction #TSS #Starless Sea #Zachary Ezra Rawlins #Dorian

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ridiculously-over-obsessed · 2 years

Photo

Ayoooo more angst coming your way!! Super short again but I’m tired so 😅Full disclosure I might get a bit behind with these because I have to go to mums this weekend and we all know what that does to my productivity 🙄 that and I have a uni assessment due at the end of next week which I need to get done obvs, so please bear with me, I’m going to try and still get you one a day!! 🥺🥰💖

Also on AO3!!!

DAY THIRTEEN: REVENGE

“I knew you’d come eventually Little One.”

Gail Abernathy-Mcadden-Feinberger sat in front of a roaring fire place, a glass of scotch in hand as she didn’t bother to turn around and face the person that had entered her sitting room. She was calm, collected, the picture of tranquility despite the gun that was levelled at her head.

“Where is she?”

The gun pointed at her was held steady, but the voice of its wielder was not, full of anger and fear. Gail looked into the depths of the flames, far more interested in the patterns they made than the visibly distraught woman stood behind her.

“I said where is she Gail?!”

“You left Beca, you don’t get to come in here asking questions anymore.”

“I swear to god, I will put a bullet in your head right now if you don’t start giving me some answers.” Beca stepped forward menacingly, gun never wavering from its target, “Tell me where Chloe is.”

“I will admit, I’m impressed you snuck in here so quietly.” Gail mused, still not paying Beca any real attention, “Maybe all those years weren’t a waste after all.”

“Yeah, well...” Beca’s mouth twisted into a sneer, “You made me into the perfect killing machine, may as well actually do some good for a change.”

“You think taking me out, rescuing your little girlfriend is doing some good?” Gail chuckled nastily, “Please Beca. You always were a naïve idealist.”

“To think the world is better off without you in it?” Beca growled, “I don’t think that makes me naïve, I think that makes me pretty fucking smart actually.”

“Sure Beca.” Gail shook her head, “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

She got to her feet with a weary sigh, setting down her now empty glass as she turned to face Beca, the gun never once wavering from its target.

“Your girl is long gone Beca. Shipped overseas for training. You remember training right?” Gail quirked an eyebrow, “The things we do to a girl to make them just like you?”

Beca’s nostrils flared as she gripped the gun tighter, jaw clenched tightly. She was too late, she should’ve gotten here faster, Chloe was too damn good to be... to be made into a cold blooded killer.

“Where?” Beca’s tone was more level and icy cold, “Where did you send her?”

“Now why would I tell you that?” Gail hummed, head cocked as she surveyed Beca with amusement.

“Because...” Beca pulled the trigger, a bullet hitting Gail just above the knee and causing her to cry out and crumple to the floor, “You know what you made me. You know what I’m capable of. And you know...”

Beca had walked over to Gail, pushing her to the ground with her foot before pressing it into the bullet wound she had inflicted.

“That I don’t give a shit about you and how much pain you’re in while I get the information out of you.”

“All your mewlings about being a good person...” Gail chuckled, grunting as Beca’s foot pressed harder into the wound, “You’re no better than the rest of us...”

“I am what you made me.” Beca’s eyes were cold as she pulled the trigger again, this bullet hitting Gail in the shoulder, “The next one goes in your stomach. Now where. Is. She?”

“Even if I tell you-” Gail panted, sneering up at Beca, “You’ll never find her in time... you won’t recognise her when you find her...”

“Where?!” Beca landed a swift kick to her ribs, “Where is she?!”

“Sarajevo.” Gail smirked, “Someone like her? She needed our intense program.”

“You’re going to pay for this.” Beca shook her head, dragging Gail to her feet and throwing her against the wall, “For all of this, for every girl that you’ve maimed and tortured and broken for your own gain, it’s about to bite you in the ass.”

“There’s my little killer.” Gail purred, “You always were my greatest achievement.”

“Fuck you.” Beca spat, “I’m going to find Chloe, I don’t care how many of you I have to take out along the way, and once I do, if I see any of your friends ever again, I’m going to kill them, slowly and painfully. Chloe and me, we’re going to have a quiet life, we’re going to be normal, and there’s nothing you or any of your little minions can do to stop us!”

“Always underestimating me Beca.” Gail sneered, “I’ll find you. Wherever you go, I’ll be right there behind you.”

“No.” Beca shook her head, “You won’t.”

Beca pulled the trigger one more time, this bullet hitting Gail square between the eyes as Beca dropped her to the floor. She sniffed softly, wiping the blood from her face as she pulled out her phone.

“Stace? It’s done. She sent her to the training camp in Bosnia, that’s our next stop.”

“I’ll get you a course charted, book the flights, whatever you need.”

“Thanks.” Beca mumbled, holstering her gun.

“Are you okay Becs?”

Beca snorted a little as her eyes flicked back to Gail for a second, “Yeah... sure. Never better.”

“You’ll get her back.”

“I know.” Beca rolled her shoulders a little, cracking her neck, “But at what cost?”

#pitch perfect #pitch perfect fanfic #pitch perfect edit #bechloe #beca mitchell #chloe beale #fanfiction #moodboard: bechloe #my fic #31 day angst challenge #31doa: day thirteen #drabble: bechloe #drabble tag

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wevegottogetaway · 3 years

Text

El Patrón

I’m so excited to finally be posting this piece. I’ve been working on it for the past few days and it’s been consuming my mind. If you like angst, smut, art student Harry, and great plot twists, this story is for you, so buckle up, cause you’ve got 13700 and then some waiting for you! And on that note, I don’t thing I have many words left in my brain... so, hope you enjoy xx

TW: smut, fool language

After her first day back to classes, Y/n is not surprised to see Harry Styles’ lanky frame standing behind the bar of Bottom’s Up. She hoped that he would bugger off to work some place else but alas, all her summer prayers were unanswered. For yet another semester, she would have to endure bartending by his sides, trying with all her might not to jab a corkscrew at his throat every time he opened his gob. Granted, she could have switched jobs herself, but the pay is too good to turn down and the bar sits literally right around the corner from her place; a match made in heaven if you ask her. Besides, she’s been mastering the art of tuning out the insufferable green-eyed prick for two years now, so what’s one more? Of course, knowing it is likely to be the last - having just kicked off the final year of her psychology major - makes the news easier to stomach. And with any luck, the fool did some sort of soul-searching over the break and came back a changed man.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to grace us with her delightful presence again. Knew you couldn’t stand to live without me, y/l/n." Harry greets her with a smirk as he looks up from his phone.

Well, some much for change, but luck has never been on y/n’s side anyway; she knew it was wishful thinking to entertain the idea of a pleasant or even tolerable Harry. "Shut it, Styles. I’m not in the mood for your bullshit," she quips back and goes straight to the employee’s locker room to dispose of her stuff and swap her top for one bearing the bar’s logo. Once done, she takes a brief look in the tattered mirror still hanging by the door to readjust her ponytail, before joining her co-worker behind the counter. The bar is rather quiet for now, clock having not chimes 6pm yet, but y/n expects the place to be soon crawling with students drinking the classes’ return off their mind.

The next few minutes are spent in unexpected peaceful silence, y/n prepping for the upcoming rush while Harry idly sits by, not lifting a single finger to help her out. Admittedly, he’s completed all his pre-shift duties during the last hour, but y/n doesn’t think it warrants the smug look painted on his face as he watches her battle a jar of olives with an old opener and a concentrated frown. So peaceful silence was a bit of a stretch, maybe.

Then to make matters worse he decides to taunt her, "I see you’ve grown zero muscle strength over the break. Too busy vegetating on the beach?"

The surge of anger triggered by the provocation is enough impetus for her to crack the can open, but it doesn’t stop her from turning to face him, "I see you’ve grown zero neuron in that thick head of yours. Too busy making people miserable instead?" she counters with flaring nostrils and a look of disdain hardening her features.

"Ah, still got a feisty mouth on you. ‘Was worried you might turn soft on us." Harry sasses back, but y/n doesn’t bother telling him off this time. No matter how strong her comeback, he’ll just brush it off with that smile of his that irritates her to no end. That’s the thing with Harry, the bastard has the thickest skin of all, he’s downright unattainable. And believe it or not, bad-mouthing doesn’t come naturally to y/n, he just seems to draw it out of her, perhaps as the trigger of some kind of survival instinct. Time and time again she’s tried to come up with a quip that would leave him speechless, tail between his legs, but he always has a wittier reply to throw back at her. For so long they’ve been playing this debilitating game of ping pong and she has yet to claim a point to his countless wins.

It’d been the case since their first meeting on that dreadful Friday two years ago. Y/n was about to embark on her second year at uni and decided to get a job so she could afford her own place instead of the dreary dorms she’d gotten used to. Bottom’s Up had seemed to be the perfect choice, a 2 minutes walk from the sweet little apartment she’d just visited a few days prior. She’d been excited for her first shift that night, air still warm from the Indian summer sun drawing a plethora of eager students to come enjoy their last day of freedom. Her happy jitters had quickly dissolved once she’d made her way in the staff-only area located behind the bar though. There, she’d walked in on a very frustrated Harry vociferating at a lost-looking colleague, "how many times do you have to fuck up before doing your bloody job, Steve? Stop sitting on your lazy ass, or I swear I’ll-"

She’d come to this Steve guy’s defense then, furious at the tall curly hair jerk for bullying his way around, "stop it, you asshole. You can’t talk to people like trash, who do you think you are?" Granted, she didn’t know it at the time, but the lost look on Steve's face was in fact pretty standard for the amount of weed in his system; nor did she know that the lad could actually win the Olympics of lazy asses hands down, should such a discipline be appended. It was too late to call off the hostilities though. War had been declared, and aside maybe from that one time he had graciously accepted to cover for her when she’d had a trip to Brighton planned for one of her classes, no truce had ever been reached. Besides, she’s sure it was more so because he was low on cash rather than to fulfill the hidden desire to help her out for once in his life.

Now, as she finishes wiping her work surface with a wet cloth, y/n wishes more than ever to be teleported in a parallel universe where she doesn’t have to work with the bane of her existence, much less see his annoyingly handsome face four times a week. (Also, exams would only be optional in this alternate reality of hers, but that’s another fantasy for another day.) Mainly, she’s just glad she doesn’t see him around campus ever, the art building standing all the way across from the psychology department. At least she’s Harry-free the moment she steps out of the bar; she’d probably have a nervous breakdown if she had to put up with his antics outside of work.

***

A month in the new semester, the novelty of it all has finally worn off to make way for routines to settle in. Y/n’s weeks now consist in a well-practiced cycle of sleep, study, eat, work and occasionally go out with her best friend Mia. Her shifts at Bottom’s Up still prove to be challenging because of the company she’s forced to keep but things seem to have calmed down at the bar too. Students are now less inclined to party the week away, mainly indulging during the second half of the week, but more importantly, Harry appears to be less of a smug bastard and more of a sulky sod. For some reason, the lad has been stuck in a sullen mood, constant frown wrinkling his forehead. He has reverted to distant one-word answers as though he is saving a dictionary worth of words for whatever conundrum is going on in his brain. Y/n doesn’t mind though, and almost welcomes the transition if it means less digs taken at her expense.

Now y/n finds herself on her way to the campus library for a much needed paper-writing cramming session (the assignment is due the following day and she barely has two thirds of the work completed). After a quick stop by the coffee shop down the block, she finally strides in the lobby of the library, ready to dive nose first into the riveting matters of cognitive psychology. She’s already so focused mulling over concepts’ definition in her mind, that it takes her a minute to realize something is going on.

It’s nothing major really, no big fire rushing around the premises or fist-fight breaking the crowd into a frenzy. No, just everyone seemingly hushing and gasping, bewildered expressions etched upon their faces as they keep pointing towards the nearby study room. Truthfully, y/n might have been completely oblivious to it, it she weren’t a psychology major; but reading people’s feelings and interactions is kind of her thing, so she does notice the bubbly energy infiltrating the usually quiet space. What could possibly have them so intrigued, she wonders as more students come out of the room with the same looks of wonder.

Her confusion is finally quelled when she steps into the study room in question and her eyes fall on what has everyone so engaged. On the wall to her right, between two sets of shelves brimming with decades-old books, hangs a life size canvas of audacious shapes and bold colors. Not one seems to have been left out, the painting seemingly transporting the viewer in a psychedelic albeit appealing trance. It’s full of contrasts, an embodiment of serenity and boldness at the same time, and y/n can’t stop ogling the masterpiece for the life of her. The amount of passion is so obviously overwhelming, yet she can feel all of the artist’s emotions underneath each of the brushstrokes.

After another minute of wondrous observation, her thoughts are interrupted by a foreign voice. "El Patrón? I wonder who that could be," the stranger wonders aloud, and her eyes immediately drift off to the bottom right of the painting to catch the small but unmistakable signature: black cursive letter spelling the two words withholding the real artist’s identity. The mystery only adds up to the appeal of the work and y/n already feels a bubbling feeling in the pit of her stomach at the idea of ever finding out what beautiful soul is responsible for such mind-bending work. She hopes this won’t be last she sees of it.

***

It’s Friday night and unfortunately for y/n, she’s stuck at work with her least favorite person in the world. It’s all the more unfortunate that Harry seems to be back to his usual annoying self, his thoughts finally free from whatever trouble had plagued them, and eager to fall back into nuisance mode. Less unfortunate for y/n and much to Harry’s discontent, Mia decided to stop by and keep her company. Though she feels slightly sorry for her having the act as her buffer for the night, y/n figures she’s more than making up for it with every free cocktail she keeps sliding towards her friend. Their conversation is scattered at best since patrons keep interrupting them for a fresh pint of ale, but as the night slowly dies down they manage to talk longer than 20 seconds.

The manager of the bar has long clocked off and gone home, as per usual on Friday nights, leaving both her and Harry the pleasure to indulge in a few drinks of their own. They don’t do it every week and always keep it low-key of course; Mia’s tonight presence mostly accounting for y/n’s partaking while Harry just likes a nice glass of tequila when the week-end comes around and there’s nobody to tell him off about it. One thing they never do though, is drink together, like two friends celebrating yet another week they survived at uni. Come to think of it, the only thing they do share is a job position and their never-ending bickering. Cheers to that, y/n takes another sip of her gin martini in sarcasm.

She’s brought back to reality by Mia as the tipsy brunette lets out a loud gasp before she inquires in a slightly high-pitched voice, "y/n! totally forgot to tell you, went by the library today and you’ll never guess what was there!"

"Oh my god, you saw the painting too, didn’t you" y/n answers, excited at the idea of discussing the whole thing with her best friend. Truth be told, the majestic work of art hasn’t left her mind since she’d first seen it a few days before.

"Yes" Mia squeals in confirmation, "I mean, it’s kinda impossible to miss. I wonder how they got it there without anyone seeing."

Y/n has wondered the same thing and she came to one conclusion, "they probably sneaked in last Sunday after the library closed, it’s the only time the building is empty," Mia humming in agreement. The campus library is opened 24/7 all days except on Sundays, so realistically speaking it is the only window of time that would allow for such an experiment. Whether said experiment required an actual break-in or was conducted in full legality remains a mystery but that is just bygones in y/n’s eyes. She’s much to mesmerized by the work to give a damn about how it got there in the first place.

"Oi y/l/n! What are you two fawning over this time" Harry chirps in the conversation, uninvited as always, and y/n hates how condescending he just sounded.

"Not that you could ever understand something with substance, if your lack thereof is any indication, but it’s none of your damn business," y/n spats out dismissively but Mia’s Margarita-induced brain seems to have forgotten all about their concerted hatred for piss-taking bartenders.

"Harry, you’re an art major aren’t you? D’you know who’s behind that beautiful painting at the library?"

Y/n tilts her head back in a sigh at her friend’s behavior before turning to watch the puzzled look on Harry’s face. He seems to silently gauge the both of them; for what, y/n doesn’t know, and then his whole expression switched to a blasé look. He shrugs in disinterest, "who cares? ’s just one more Banksy wannabe who’s trying at it too hard ‘f you ask me."

Y/n takes it as a personal offense, her admiration for the painting outweighing any instinct she has of avoiding the brazen man taking a sip of his tequila on rocks across from her, "of course you’d say something like that. You’re just jealous you’ll never compete with his talent."

Harry raises a brow at her accusation, "and how would you know since you’ve never seen any of my work?"

It’s a valid point, but not enough to rebut her. "Doesn’t take a genius to know a shallow mind like yours could never create something as deep and transcending. That would require actual emotions from you Harry and we both know the only emotion you’re capable of spreading is irritation."

For once she’s confident she’s gonna have the last word, but in true Harry fashion he just gives her a bored look as if to say ‘is that all?’ towel thrown over his shoulder, "right, and here I thought talking to people like trash was a bad thing. You should really take a page out of your own book, y/n, wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re as big of a jerk as I am." Then he turns back to face the room full of customers, and tends to one disheveled looking guy slurring out an order.

Y/n barely registers the friendly "alright Joe, but ’s the last one," Harry rasps out to the guy, her ears are still ringing from the last words he’d said to her. More specifically, the little truth they held despite how much he deserved the backlash, and y/n absolutely loathes the way her throat seems to be closing in on itself. She’s afraid she’s turning like him, bitter words at the ready and always trying to outdo his own taunting spiels. Before anxiety can settle in her bones though, she swallows back the knot tightening in her airways and goes back to serving customers and conversing with her friend.

***

The next time it happens, she expects it even less. A couple weeks have passed since her gruesome interaction with Harry at the bar, and along with her doubts, all thoughts about art have seemed to vanish from her busy mind. She’s had a few tests occupying all her free time and now that they’ve been done and over with, all she can think about is calling Mia up to plan their next night out; she needs a few drinks that she didn’t make for once.

She’s about to take her phone out of her pocket to send her best friend a text, when she enters the lecture hall of her Monday experimental method and research design class. The déjà-vu feeling that creeps up her spine stops her from completing the action, and y/n frowns at how her fellow students seem to be all entranced in deep conversation, exchanging baffled looks with one another. Even the sleeping kid that sits at the back seems to be more alert than during their last fire evacuation procedure test.

It’s then y/n turns around to see what is hanging at the front of the room, covering the large board. This time, the colors were carefully handpicked by the artists, flashes of pink and yellow dancing along to a frenzied rhythm of salsa as their union creates powerful jets of oranges across the canvas. It vaguely reminds her of the pendant she wears on a daily basis, rose gold laurels wrapped around a delicate sunflower, an orange topaz incrusted in its center. The painting is of abstract nature much like the last one, but the movements of the brush still bring her mind back to the jewel presently nestled between her collarbones. How odd.

The piece is slightly smaller than the last but no less impressive, catching the attention of even the least artistic eye. The sensibility of the artist is so distinct, intentions clearer and more in touch than most people with their own. For a second, y/n thinks she’s glad the pieces have only been ones of unadulterated happiness and colorful bliss so far, because god knows how heart-wrenching the outcome would be if all this uncorrupted honesty was used to fill canvas with pain.

As the professor enters the room, everybody settles back on their seat, and wait for the chap’s reaction. "Well, that sure is something. It seems we have a bit of a mystery painter on our hands, don’t we; and a talented one at that," y/n’s professor smiles at the class as he pulls a computer out of his satchel and places it at top of the front desk. His words make her look back at the artwork, this time settling on the small signature reading El Patrón on its corner. And it’s all it takes for Y/n’s obsession with the anonymous artist to be back in full force.

***

That night she can’t stop raving about the painting as she starts closing the bar after a long and tiresome shift. She’s got a shoulder pressing her phone to her ear, Mia on the line, while she absentmindedly sweeps the floor. Normally the exertion of the job would have her stifling yawns and her bones aching but tonight her voice is perky as ever as she recollects the pinnacle of her day, "you shoulda been there Mia, it was gorgeous. And same as last time, like you’d be minding your business, doing your thing and then boom, it’s there. Damn, this guy is a genius."

As she comes back around the counter, Harry makes sure she notices the roll of his eyes. He’s been wiping and tidying the bar space after making sure everything is stocked up for the next day, all the while listening to her drone about El Patrón and his stroke of genius, praise after praise falling from her lips. She completely brushes off the patronizing gesture and that’s perhaps what irritates him the most. She’s barely acknowledging him or his stunts with all her attention placed on the mystery painter and well, Harry quite likes riling her up. Doesn’t do it out of spite, but merely because he likes the way it ignites a fire in her that he’s seldom seen in people. But now, all her fire is directed elsewhere and he doesn’t know what to think of it.

***

Over the next month, the rumors around El Patrón spread like wildfire as more and more of his works are found scattered around campus. Much to y/n’s delight, she always seems to fall upon them as though they’ve been placed specifically on her path. It didn’t start as obvious though; the first following pieces hung in common areas around campus such as the lunch hall or the student center but as time went by they tended to follow her whereabouts somehow. Y/n knows she’s probably fabulating but when she’d stumble across two absolutely stunning pieces in the lobby of her gym and at the entrance of the psychology building, she couldn’t help but feel deeply attached to them. And the possibility that this mystery artist might have the same attachment to her, only fuels her obsession further, sending her reeling with all but one nerve-wracking question: who is this guy?

And it’s not like she’s the only one pondering over their identity either. Hell, the genius has literally everyone on campus under their spell, trying to uncover the enigma of the year. Everyone seems to be determined to find clues, easter eggs hidden within the paintings that could lead them closer to the truth. El Patrón has effectively turned the whole uni into a large-scale game of Cluedo, people speculating left and right and swapping theories about who it can or cannot be, what year they are probably in, or whether they have an accomplice. Nobody has ever executed such a tour de force in the history of campus, and it has everyone one edge, y/n included, desperate to be in the loop.

The fact that each painting is more beautiful than the last and always seems to connect with her in personal ways doesn’t help her daydreaming either. Take the one she found at the gym for example, for a few second she’d sworn she was looking at a familiar piece of the English South Coast, dark hues of blue fighting dots of white, reminiscent of the way foam always seems to top even the most raging waves as they crash along shores. She’d only had to close her eyes to feel the wind blowing her hair in a thousand directions and the sand engulfing her feet, making its way between her toes and every crevice of her skin. She was still in the middle of her gym when she reopened them though, her sport bag straddling her shoulder as she kept gaping at the painting in adoration.

Her suspicious keeps nagging at her head, the desire to unveil the identity of her beloved artist getting stronger by the day. The feeling is almost unbearable when she spots yet another work of his across from Bottom’s Up. The coincidences keep piling up and the more she mulls it over, the more she’s convinced this mystery guy is talking to her. Damn, is it possible to have a crush on someone because of their work? After months of this cryptic scavenger hunt, she’d dying to know if all her theories are right and the fact that she has no way to find out, is positively killer her.

That’s why when she stumbles across a flyer for a midterm exhibition gala hosted by the art department as she waits in line at her favorite coffee shop, she doesn’t think twice before jotting down all the info. In a week time, most of the uni’s art students would be gathered up in one place to present their term’s work. The chances are too high for y/n to pass up the opportunity, her guts telling her he’ll be there. It makes sense doesn’t it? Surely, this El Patrón ought to be an art student if not a teacher. How else would they have access to all the campus amenities most of the paintings were found in?

As she goes to pick up her coffee from the counter, y/n walks with a newfound spring in her steps; she really can’t wait for this gala to happen.

***

Y/n stands at the entrance of the art building, a black floor-length long-sleeves open-back dress hugging her curves in all the right places. Her heart speeds up at the nervous jitters crawling underneath her skin, and the million question swarming her frantic mind. What if he actually doesn’t know her and doesn’t give a damn about her thoughts on his work? What if it’s actually a woman and she’s been hiding a man’s pen-name to consolidate her deceit? Is she about to make the biggest fool out of herself by coming to this exhibition? She doesn’t know anyone here, nor has she ever been to this kind of event before but she’s decided this guessing game has run its course. Maybe this all thing has nothing to do with her and that’s okay. All she really wants is to have a chance to tell this exquisite mind how remarkable their work is; the rest be damned.

Y/n slowly makes her way inside, and after a quick stop at the coat room to dispose of the unnecessary garment, she is finally greeted by a room full of dressed-up people roaming and chatting around, champagne flutes in hands. How cliche, she thinks with humor, before picking up a glass of the bubbly beverage. It’ll help sooth the nerves, she reasons as she starts walking around the place to observe each of the displays. Despite not having had a glimpse of her number-one painter yet, she finds herself having a good time. Most of the work offered to her is engaging in one way or another; some pieces quite provocative is their depiction, others straight out pushing the limits of 2D, with structures coming out of the canvas as though they were about to grip at the viewer.

Turning at a corner, she comes across his art before she sees him, having almost forgotten art was supposedly his thing too, and she realizes she actually knew someone here apart from the mysterious painter. She takes a brief look at his tall frame, the baby blue suit over his crisp white shirt fitting him perfectly. A black tie is completing the look, and it makes y/n waver for a second. She’s never seen him dressed in anything other than jeans and the bar’s t-shirt every employee is supposed to wear on call. Granted, even that he can make work better than anyone else she can think of, but that suit is something else altogether.

Her eyes shifts back to his work, not wanting to waste too much time on his appearance; she is here on a mission after all. She can’t deny his painting is good as much as she wants too. It’s made of a perfectly executed optic illusion that has her pause for longer than she intended to. The colors are picked wisely only adding to the entrancing design, tempting the viewer to reach out to the painting to convince themselves that this is fact a pretty subterfuge and no reality; the frontier between both worlds much too hard to distinguish. Just like for the rest of the exhibition, a single plaque hangs underneath the canvas, introducing the title of the piece above the name of its artist: Fine Line by Harry Styles. Damn, the bastard had to be talented…

"Is it as depthless as you thought it would be?" A hoarse voice interrupts her inner thoughts. She knows it’s his at the first word and already she regrets ever thinking positive things about him.

"Funny, I would have shared a compliment but you just had to go and open your stupid mouth," she bites back as she fully turns around to face him. She can feel is eyes shamelessly scanning her body, sending her nerves on overdrive. She wants this exchange to be as curt as possible, she’s got important matters to tend to.

"Here for you mysterious bloke, I presume?" he inquires in a taunting voice.

"What’s it to you, anyway?" y/n dodges the question with another, hoping it’ll steer the conversation toward its end.

She’s answered by rosy pouting lips, a hand on his heart in faux vexation, "ouch, was just hopin’ you’d come to see me, and now you’ve just crushed my dreams, love."

The pet-name is not lost on her and Y/n has had enough. In own gulp she downs the rest of her champagne and forces the glass to his chest for him to hold as she makes her way past him, "just leave me alone and go be a pain in someone else’s ass, Harry." She doesn’t wait to see if he’s following her as she marches across the room in long and purposeful strides.

Something in the corner of her eyes catches her attention right then. Halting abruptly, almost making someone walk right into her, she turns her head to the side and that’s when she finally sees it. A whole part of the wall has been dedicated to his work, a shrine of his most outstanding pieces randomly hung against the white surface. Y/n recognizes each and every one of them, but then her eyes take in the extra work added for the exhibition: next to each of the pieces are displayed a bunch of photos capturing the students’ expressions as they first discovered the paintings. Dozens of faces lighting up in amazement, widening eyes and finger pointing at the unexpected intrusions; some show confusion and puzzlement while others simply behold laughter and animated conversation.

In the center of the wall, a video is projected. It’s a compilation of those same moments but this time captured on tape. The sound was removed, but as y/n takes in the faces of her fellow students she can almost hear the sound of their laughters; she’d been there for most of it after all. She thinks the idea is amazing, El Patrón has managed to make the viewer a permanent part of the art. The paintings are marvelous of course, full of emotions and passion, but the mysterious artist has gone one step further by also displaying how those emotions had reflected back on the audience. It is an ode to art, to the power of sharing, and proves art is limitless; not owned by museums, not bound between walls and certainly not restricted for trained-eyes only. Because art isn’t all about beauty, it speaks for the need for sharing that human have but often forget, and this is a perfect reminder of it.

The next tape playing has her eyes doubling over the video, a small gasp escaping her lips as she takes in her own figure. It was taken the day she found the painting at the gym and unlike all the other videos she’s alone. No group of students by her side elbowing her in disbelief, or sharing a puzzle look with her. Just her doe eyes gleaming at the painting, lips slightly parted in pure wonder, as she studies every inch of the canvas. And the feeling that this might mean just as much to him as it does to her comes back crashing on her. She’s not paranoid; this artist his using her as some kind of inspiration, she’s sure of it. Random cannot be this accurate, it would defy any laws of statistics.

After the slideshow finally moves on to the next video, y/n looks around in the hopes of finding the man that has wormed his way into her heart. She’s imagined it a thousand times over during the past week. A young man would be discretely standing on the side, watching the evening pan out and waiting for her to find his work. Then they would make eye contact and he’d make his way over to greet her and share more of his beautiful mind with her. That’s the happily ever after she’s hoped for since that first painting in the library, but alas everyone around her seems to be engrossed in conversation about this and that.

"I thought he would be there too," the unexpected voice makes her jump. She recognizes the student from that first day, she’d also be intrigued by the mysterious man.

"I know, all of his work is here, he has to somewhere around," y/n tries to convince herself. She hasn’t given up yet, she won’t let herself unless she goes home tonight empty-handed. Only after that will she stop searching, she promises herself. If he doesn’t show up tonight, then that’s because he doesn’t want to be found.

The girl next to her has the same disappointed tone when she explains, "you’d think so, but I’ve been asking everyone around and nobody has a clue still."

Before y/n can come up with her own rationalizations, someone starts speaking in a microphone, asking for everyone’s attention. It’s a man in his early fifties making a speech about the whole reason behind the exhibition so y/n pegs him as the head of the art department. "Thank you all for coming tonight, it is always a pleasure to see so many of you supporting our young talents. As you may know, tonight’s exhibition signs off our students’ final work for the semester, and will also see one of them receive a one-time collaboration with a renown art gallery in the city. Now, before the judges finish deliberating, let me tell you a bit about the topic of this exhibition which, by the way, serves as the main criteria for this contest. Our artists were asked to work around audience engagement and crowd reaction. The task was to produce art that would prompt an active response from the viewer and go beyond a passive experience. I hope this info helps this event take all its sense, I’ll let you all meander for a couple more minutes before we announce the winner. Thank you for your presence."

Since she has a couple more of minutes, y/n decides to take advantage of the fresh insight she was just given about the artwork and goes around the exhibition one more time. The whole thing does take on a new meaning, now that she knows what was going one in the students’ mind as they first got their assignment. But what has her in awe really, is El Patrón’s coup de maître in all of this, because unlike any other applicant here tonight, he’s had the strongest reactions from the public for months now and had even documented it. So really, in a way he’s already won, no bias to blame. The amount of work and planning behind such a tour de force surely has exceeded everyone’s expectations and secured the number-one position for the still-to-be-revealed artist. In the pocket, as they say.

"Alright everyone, without further ado we are going to announce the lucky talent selected by the judges tonight," the head of department speaks up again. "On behalf of the whole department, I would like to salute each and every one of the students that presented their work tonight. Skills are certainly not scarce among you all, and as always it gives me great pleasure to see you all grow into yourselves alongside your craft. As you know, there can only be one of you coming up to this stage tonight and I must say, this semester has proved to be full of surprises. Never in my 26 years working here have I ever seen something of the sort, so ladies, gentleman, I have no idea who is about to join me now, but please give a warm round of applause for El Patrón!"

The room explodes in loud cheers as people clap their hands in honor of the mysterious artist. Y/n probably the loudest amongst them all, is still craning her neck in every possible directions trying to catch sight of anyone moving towards the stage. The standing ovation quickly fades into silence as everyone realizes nobody is coming to claim their prize. The usual hushing following any of El Patrón’s stunts is once again spreading across the room to match people’s incredulity at the situation. It was one thing to keep their identity a secret, as it was clearly a crucial condition for the plan to work, but now that it is all over and done, prize ready for the taking, it doesn’t make much sense.

"Mister El Patrón? I think you more than deserve to drop your mask and receive your prize," the host reiterates in hopes that the much awaited artist comes out of his lair, but he’s met with the same result. Perhaps he’s not here after all, or perhaps y/n was right to think he might not want to be found, but regardless a strong feeling of disappointment takes over a body. He won’t be coming, she knows. No matter how many times the host calls for him, he won’t be coming.

She lets out a long sign in frustration then, she really thought tonight was the tonight. But now that the evening is coming to its end, tears pearl at the corner of her eyes and she just wants to go home and forget all about El Patrón. Aren’t artists supposed to be dark and twisted anyway? Maybe she just dodges a bullet, she tries to make herself feel better, but no amount of sarcasm can save her from the painful pinch at her heart. As she comes to term with the fact she won’t get any more answers by staying (and possible ever), she decides it’s her cue to go.

On her way to the exit, her eyes fall upon Harry’s slightly hunched figure. He seems deep in his thoughts, eyes fixed towards the floor though he’s not looking at anything in particular. For some unknown reason, y/n is not irked by his presence like she usually is. He’s just lost a great career opportunity so his preoccupied disposition is understandable. Feeling as though she needs to end the night on a different note - whether positive is yet to be determined - she approaches him slowly as not to startle him. "Your painting is really good. I’m sorry you didn’t win, but you should still be proud," she softly tells him to cheer him up. At least, one of them might get to go home in higher spirits.

He looks up at her then, curls bouncing on top of his head, as he aligns his two glistening emeralds to her own gems. He seems quite surprised to hear her voice, probably rightfully so since he can count on one hand (scratch that, one finger) the number of times she’s actively sought him out for conversation. She can tell he’s debating whether to say something or not, as they keep their eyes locked. It’s probably the longest and only civil exchange they’ve ever had, and somehow it manages to soothe some of her sorrows.

Y/n likes this reflective side of him, she realizes. Not that she wishes him any torments (at least not tonight) but his quietness makes him look vulnerable in that beautifully human way for once. That’s twice he’s proven her wrong about the assumptions she had on him, tonight: first his talent, now his character; she doesn’t know what to make of it. Silently, she accepts the timid smile and light nod he offers her in gratitude, before making her way to out at last.

***

Two days after the night of the exhibition, y/n still has a hard time to let her grievance go. Her mood has yet to upgrade from crappy at best, and the fact that all the artwork has been removed from their previous spots is not helping much. Of course she knew they had been put down for the big night, but her heart still missed a beat when she went to the gym only to find the walls of the lobby bare of any craft that would liven up their otherwise dull and colorless structure. Just like her state of mind, she’d joked. And y/n is not one to throw pity parties, especially to herself; but then again, she’d never fallen under the charms of a faceless virtuoso because his art brought to life parts of her that she’d believed otherwise dormant, only to be metaphorically stood up at the end of the process. So really, what does she know anymore?

Now that she’s back at work, she revels in the constant effort she has to provide. The ever-growing list of task to complete gives her mind reprieve and focus, but she still hasn’t budged from her unusually distant and withdrawn self. Even harry’s own standoffishness hasn’t caught her attention; a week ago, his awkward demeanor would have flashed red flags all over her radar. An unfiltered narcissistic prick he could be, but y/n has never known him to be anything even resembling reserve; apart maybe from that one fate-less night not even 72 hours ago when she found him on the outskirts of the attention even though she knew full well that he is more of center kind of guy.

As they’re about to start closing, the awkwardness becomes more palpable by the second. They’ve skirted around it during the whole shift, the steady solicitation of customers enough to ignore the growing tension; but as the last of the patrons finally make their way out of the bar, an eery silence settles in their wake, making them both want to crawl out of their skin. Even the heavy-served drinks they’ve indulged in, despite the absence of their respective motives, hasn’t help assuage the strain between them. Instead, they start their usual routine in overrated silence, y/n in charge of the floor while he tends to the bar. Then before long, Harry bursts the uncomfortable bubble they’ve locked themselves in, voice void of its usual teasing tone, "so, what’s got you so grumpy?" he inquires.

"Please don’t start, Harry. I really can’t be bothered tonight," y/n sighs in response, failing to recognize the note of concern in his question and thinking she wouldn’t survive another bickering session. It hasn’t been the lad’s intention though, so her false accusation has his thick skin itching against his will. To be honest, Harry’s never taken much offense from any of their past squabbles no matter how hard she’d come at him, but this one he can’t brush off. Not when for once, he’s trying to be decent, dropping the attitude he knows rubs her the wrong way and she responds by telling him to get lost.

"Fuck sake, I wasn’t tryin’ to start anythin’" he berates her for lashing out unjustifiably, "you need to take a chill pill." The hostile reaction as her pausing mid-swipe in the middle of the room. He was always so unbothered by everything she said, she hasn’t expected him to be so hard on the defensive (or even know what a defensive is in the first place).

Still, she doesn’t appreciate the same chastising tactic he’s used on her countless times, especially because given his serious temper, she knows he means it for real now. "Oh I’m sorry Harry, I didn’t know what sympathy actually sounds like coming from your mouth," she quips back in sarcasm.

The response makes him livid, "you tell me I’m a jerk every chance you got, but you sure know how to be a bitch, y/n" he spats before finishing wiping the counter. As his hand reaches the end of the surface, he finds his half-empty glass of tequila, most of the ice completely melted through the amber liquor by now. He takes one long sip in a vain attempt to calm his nerves but the alcohol merely tingles the back of his palate and warms its way down his stomach. His mind is still burden with frustrations he doesn’t know how to alleviate; the end of term, the exhibition, his career’s future, and y/n’s stubborn nature all wreaking havoc in his tired brain.

"Shut the fuck up, Harry. I didn’t ask for your attention," y/n retorts, trying not to expose how bruised her heart is. While he’d mocked her plenty during the past two years, he’d never resorted to calling her names, unlike her; so the insult does more damage than she’s willing to admit, even coming from Harry. And to think she’d thought of him as a half decent being not three days ago…

"Right, I forgot only anonymous bastards are worthy enough of your attention," he replies before checking the shelves behind the bar to make sure they’re stocked enough for the next shift. "And even when they turn out to be cowards, you still choose them over the people that are actually around you. You need to open your eyes and wake up, it’s pathetic."

Y/n has almost finished cleaning her area but at this point, she’s ready to call it quits and run as fast as she can, away from him. "Go fuck yourself, you don’t know anything you��re talking about," she manages to croak past her swelling throat and quivering lips. The man in front of her is breaking her heart even though he’s never had it in his calloused hands, and y/n doesn’t know why.

"Fuck this, ’m done," he quite literally throws in the towel, leaving it in a bowl on the counter before making his way back to his drink. In a swift movement, he grabs the bottle of tequila to pour himself a new one. "You keep blindly mopin’ about your precious painter, I don’t care, you’re probably right anyway," he says before chugging the bitter spirit in one go and slamming the bottle of tequila down on the counter in a loud bang that has y/n jump in fear. "I don’t anything about bloody anything," is all Harry says as he locks eyes with hers, before making his out of the bar, not bothering to put the bottle back to its rightful place.

Y/n is still trembling from the exchange, and it takes her a hot minute before she can finish what she was doing. As she resumes wiping the floor with shaky hands, she tries to even her breath out. Why had he been so hurtful? What could have possibly impelled him to utter such malicious words? The questions are still reeling in her mind as she twists water out of the mop for the last time. Once the floor is spotless and all the tables are no longer sticky with spilled alcohol, chairs stacked up onto them upside-down, she makes her way back behind the bar, checking that Harry didn’t leave any of his duties unattended before his theatrical exit. She spots the bottle of tequila sitting lonely on the counter but just as she goes to reach for it, she freezes.

It’s a cold shower pouring over her body all at once then, dots finally connected as her eyes read over the label of the fat bottle she’s seen him take out of the stack countless times before. Everything that happened for the last few months falls into place and suddenly there is no mystery left to be solved. ‘You’re probably right, I don’t know anything about bloody anything’ Harry’s final words keep playing on a maddening loop in her head.

Y/n takes in the small bee design printed under what is unmistakably the last piece of the puzzle she’s been craving to complete: one word that has her stomach churning in a myriad of emotions she can’t possibly untangle. Anger, relief, surprise, fear, curiosity, warmth and more, are all rushing through her in one colossal wave, because printed on that bottle in black capital letters is the brand of Harry’s favorite drink: Patrón.

***

The next day, y/n navigates through her classes purely on autopilot mode. She doesn’t quite remember picking the floral blouse nor the light-shade pair of jeans she’s wearing, and barely recalls the brief conversation she had with an old lady during her bus commute to campus. One thing she sure as hell hasn’t paid one iota of attention to, is the behavioral psychology class she’s just got out of. Two hours she spent pacing up and down every twist and turn of her mind only to come out more lost than she’d started. Add to that the fact she’s running on 4 hours of sleep, she’s quite simply a recipe for disaster. Fortunately for y/n, she isn’t due at work tonight, having called sick this morning, because sleep-deprivation aside, she still has no idea how she’s supposed to face Harry.

The revelation of the night prior is still something she has trouble wrapping her mind around, as it goes against every constructed opinion she’s made about her life. Harry is Patrón, she’s pretty sure. Harry, the allegedly conceited asshole she’s been bickering with since their first minute spent together, is the mind-blowing painter that had taken residence in y/n’s heart since the first time she set eyes on his art. The two characters have yet to fully merge into one in her mind, despite the fact it makes perfect sense to her.

The Brighton painting, the one inspiring her necklace, it was all true. And with that revelation comes two intimidating truths y/n is kind of scared to delve into: one, all this time she’s been right to think she is the muse behind this all scheme; two, if Harry is the mystery painter, that makes her Harry’s muse more specifically. And that’s the part of the equation she struggles the most with, because up until last night she was pretty positive that the twat despised her (the night in itself being prime evidence of that) but now she doesn’t know what to think.

It’s like there are two versions of Harry battling in her brain, splitting her heart in halves; the one that made her miserable at work for years and made her cry last night, and the one she’d gotten a glimpse of at the night of the exhibition. The one that hid a fully blossomed bouquet of emotions behind teasing banter to protect a diamond-rough talent that had the power to touch just about anyone’s sensibility. The one that had her wrapped around his finger in awe with that beautiful mind of his. The question is, can she or will she see this Harry the next time she’s facing him or will all their bad-blood history come crashing down on her instead? Y/n doesn’t think she’s ever fit more the definition of having mixed feelings about something.

On her way home, she makes sure she doesn’t fall asleep against the bus window, despite yawning every thirty-seconds. It feels like the trip is taking forever, she almost lets out a cry of relief when the automated voice finally announces her upcoming stop. Once she’s thanked the driver and stepped out of the bus, she’s met with a gust of brisk air, instantly blowing her hair all over her face. She draws the lapels of her coat tighter around her shivering body and starts making her way towards her apartment building.

It doesn’t take her long to complete the walking distance to her place and tread her way up the stairs, but the sight greeting her in the hallway of her floor almost sends her down on her ass. Because right across from her door, is Harry hanging yet another one of his chefs-d’oeuvre. He’s dressed casually in his usual jeans and t-shirt ensemble, with a thick grey hoodie covering his broad upper-half in a feeble attempt to combat to cold weather raging outside. As he reaches in the back pocket of his jeans to retrieve a sharpie - no doubt to apply his trademark signature - the movements of her feet on the laminated floor catch his attention. Spinning around in a jolt of surprise, he realizes too late that he’s been caught red-handed. There was no going back this time, but he doesn’t necessarily see it as a bad thing.

There is a short moment where they are both just standing in front of each other a few feet apart, as their eyes bounce back in silent conversation, before y/n softly breaths out, "so it is you." The weight of her words has him swallow in nervousness, "of course it’s me," he replies in a gentle tone. A smile pulls at his lips when he realizes she’s not running for the hills or bursting out in a furious rant.

"I just…how? why? I mean, you gotta help me understand Harry, cause I’m pretty fucking lost over here," she blurts out with wide doe-eyes begging him for answers. Her obvious jitters earn her a soft chuckle., and for a hot minute all he can bring himself to do is study her snuggled figure and the way she keeps fiddling with her keys. It’s so endearing to him, if they were at his place, he would have offered to make some tea. The thought has him hesitantly looking at the door across from them, "can we maybe talk inside?" he inquires, beckoning his head towards her place. "I know I haven’t given you much reasons to let me in, but I promise I’ll explain everythin’," he feels the need to convince her, " after that, you can kick me out if you still want."

The last bit has her smile timidly, "yeah, let’s go inside. I wanna hear what you have to say," y/n admits as she steps to the door and unlocks it. She’s intrigued by how gentle and well-mannered the man following her to the living room seems to be, light years away from the rowdy lad she’s come to know.

For a second, y/n is worries about the state she’s left the apartment before she rushed to classes this morning, but her apprehensions quickly go away once she takes in the sight of her rather tidied living space. A velvety throw blanket is covering the couch in a makeshift comforter from the way she spent the night on the couch, and apart from a few class notes scattered across the coffee table, everything seems to be where it’s supposed to be.

They both discard their top layers on the armchair adjacent to the couch, Harry slipping his hoodie off above his head in one swift gesture, while y/n simply lets the sleeves of her coat slide down her arms. He brushes his hair back into submission with one swoop of his hand, before sitting down on the couch and directing his attention back at her. She decides to leave some distance between them, taking the other end of the sofa and the move desperately makes him wonder what thoughts are running through her head. The only way to uncover them however, is if he starts talking first; and so he does.

"So uhm," he starts clumsily, clearing his throat, "remember the first day we met, you walked in on me telling some stoner guy off," he watches closely as y/n nods. "It was our first ever conversation and we fought through the whole thing. I was pretty pissed when it happened, not gonna lie, but once I got home and slept it off, I thought it was really cool how you’d stand up for that random guy." The admission has her eyebrows raising but he keeps going, "and okay maybe, just maybe, I found it a lil hot, the way you tried to put me back in my place."

He stops to make sure he hasn’t offended her, "tried to?" she challenges instead, Harry laughing at her objection.

"Right, maybe you did. My poin’ is, no-one really calls me out on my bullshit, so it was kinda refreshing that you did. But then the next day, you were still mad at me, an’ we bickered that time too. It felt like you’d already made up your mind about me. So in a way, all I had left was doin’ this thing where I push your buttons and rile you up. Know it doesn’t make sense, but it was the only way you’d interact with me so I kept doin’ it, because being jerk-Harry was better than having nothin’."

He pauses for a minute and waits as y/n swallows all the information. All this time he’s been teasing her just to have some sort of connection, no matter how perverse, while she thought he just hated her guts. When she shares this thought with him, he shakes his head with a smile, "never hated you. If I ‘ad, I wouldn’t have bothered talking t’you."

Suddenly, her chest feels lighter, as though all this months of anguish had evaporated from her mind, now that she knew their rocky relationship was the result of miscommunication, "sound logic, Styles," she replies in good humor. Then she remembers the El Patrón’s fiasco so she urges him to go on.

"My final. Right. Well as you know, we were given the assignment at the beginning of the semester, and I came up with the idea of creating this alter ego that would plant his work around campus. I thought by taking people’s by surprise I was guaranteed strong genuine reactions. People are always more opened when they don’t expect it. Like if I had just brought my paintings on the night of the exhibition, the same people wouldn’t have reacted that way, probably because they’d know they’d be observed so they would have adjusted their behavior accordingly." They both know he’s getting slightly off trail, but watching y/n so enthralled with his words makes it hard for him to stop. Fact is, for month she’s dreamed of meeting and picking at the brain of this mysterious painter, and now that he’s sitting on her couch, walking her through his thought process, she finally feels like she is.

"Anyway," he resumes the storytelling, "I started with that painting in the library and it worked so perfectly, I knew if I followed the plan I would have somethin’ really good. But then you just had to go on an’ rave about the paintings without knowing they were mine, and it was killin’ me inside. Because I knew if there was a real chance I could change your mind about me, I’d do anythin’. But no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t tell you. Couldn’t jeopardize my final… so I tried to tell you through the art. I started painting stuff that made me think of you and placed the pieces in locations I knew you’d pass through. It was the only way I could tell you."

Harry’s confession had Y/n’s heart beating so hard in her chest, she can almost feel it thumping through her ears. Her next question is on the edge of her lips, but she takes her time tracing each of Harry’s graceful features until his eyes catch hers, "tell me what, Harry?" she asks barely above a whisper.

His response comes in three bashful steps: first his lips curve into a shy grin that has him look down with rosy cheeks; then his hand inches its way along the soft fabric of the couch to gently hold her fingers, thumb grazing over her knuckles; and as he looks up from their joined hands to connect their gaze once more, he finally spells it, loud and clear, "tell you that I like you, y/n."

The sentiment sends her own emotions reeling in a tornado of passion. This is it, this is what she’s been half-knowingly wishing for, and now that she knows the truth in full, she’s ready to embrace it. Her eyes twinkle in bliss, a growing smile illuminating her face as she squeezes his hand in a silent invitation to slide closer to her. Harry is much happy to oblige, and once he’s sitting directly next to her, knees grazing her own, he cups her face with one of his bear-paw hands. A few strands of hair are caught in the cuddling gesture, but none of them care. Harry just keeps smiling at her, waiting for her next move, and his beam grows two sizes wide when she mirrors his affection. "I like this side of you," she whispers fondly, as her thumb draws slow circles across the skin of his cheeks.

Harry closes his eyes at her words, "this is the real me, I promise," he reassures in an almost pleading tone, vulnerability seeping through. And y/n feels like she’s lying down on cloud nine really, because dropping his fortress of pretentiousness is all she’s ever want from him. With a hushed ‘okay’, she finally brings her mouth to taste the rose-tinted flesh of his. It starts off chaste and slow, lips dovetailed in perfect symbioses like they are made to cohabit, but quickly the kiss heats up to a full on make out session. "Show me, then", y/n mutters out when they part for a breather.

Harry slowly nods his head, before helping her straddle his lap and y/n immediately brings both her hands to his neck once she settles her hips against his. The friction already had them deeply inhale, trying not to work themselves up too fast, but Harry doesn’t think he’ll have much self-control when it comes to y/n. Already he can feel his cock fattening up inside his brief, the tingling sensation making him roll his hips up into hers. Their lips are back in a sensual duel, tongues tentatively taking their turn to lick their way inside the other’s mouth. Every now and then, he teases her bottom lip with a graze of his teeth, and the move as her tugging the root of his hair at the back of his head every single time without a fail.

He loves discovering all the quirks and tells of her body, thinks he could spend hours on hand learning every single one of her curves and memorizing each of her special spots. The smell of her fragrance infiltrates his nostrils as he dips his head to her neck to plant open-month kisses along her skin. Head angled towards the ceiling to make room for his ministrations, y/n can’t do much but let her hands scout any expanse of skin accessible to her. She starts at his shoulder, squeezing the flesh to feel out the strong muscle laying underneath, before making her way down his tone arms, then to his hands currently holding onto to her waist. She gives them an affectionate pinch at the same time she presses down onto him with a deep moan, and Harry retaliates with a buck of his own.

As he starts kissing down the exposed skin of her cleavage, y/n finally drops her head to place a tender kiss to his hairline. One of her hand is back at his neck, holding him firmly to her chest as he licks at the valley of her breasts down her sternum. The other worms its way underneath his shirt from the neckline, nails grazing down his back in soft enough pressure not to leave any marks.

Harry’s descent is obstructed by the soft material of her blouse, so he takes the garment off of her in one swoop, and places his hands back on her newly exposed body, rubbing up and own the skin. As his mouth goes back to the supple flesh of her breasts, y/n increases the pace of her hips grinding on his cock. The sensations seem to be not enough and too much at the same time for her; the heavy material still covering their most sensitive parts in the way of her pleasure, while Harry’s work has her going into overdrive under his velveteen mouth and calloused fingers. She starts kissing her way up from his shoulder to the edge of his jaw, and Harry revels in the sound of her moans tickling his ear.

Done with the excess of fabric between them two, y/n grips at the top of his shirt and pulls it upwards, leaving him shirtless. "Fuck, I didn’t know you have so many tattoos," she babbles against his lips, while her hands smooth over the ink.

"Plenty you don’t know about me, love," Harry chirps as he bask in the praise and the feeling of her skin of his.

He then circles one arm around her waist to bring them chest to chest, and the contact has y/n once again intensify the friction between their crotches. "Wanna find out," she murmurs against his neck while she grinds on his clothed member, "Harry, please take me to bed."

He jolts at the quick bite she delivers to his neck, the impish gesture her way of saying ‘now’ but before she can make her way out of his lap to bring him to her room, he presses her back down with both hands on her waist. "Nuh uh, y’not goin’ anywhere. Want you to come once, b’fore I take you to bed, pet," he says, smoothing his hands over her ass to guide her rocking motions. The term of endearment sounds so innocent yet dirty all at once, it sends a chill down her spine. Nobody had called her that before.

"Can’t," she shakes her head, "can’t feel you through the jeans."

"Alright then, stand up," he calmly asserts and she doesn’t hesitate to comply, standing in between his spread legs, in her flimsy bra and jeans. "Take ‘em off then, ’s what you want no?" he sends her a tantalizing look and bites at his lips as he watches her peel the pants off her legs. He can’t help the light squeeze he gives himself through his own jeans, as y/n stands in front of him awaiting his next instructions. "Come sit on my thigh now, think should be enough to make this pretty pussy tingle in all the right places, no?"

Y/n’s insides are already twisting in a knot as she settles back on his lap and lets the rough material of his jeans against the softness of her cotton panties spread a prickling sensation through her pelvis area. Quickly, she resumes undulating her hips, gripping back at Harry’s neck to pull him in a languid kiss, pleasure vibrating against their lips. It is not long before her pace picks up, and her eyes shut at the intensity of her bliss. "That’s it, pet. Already makin’ a mess of me. You’re doin’ so well," he coaxes her with his words.

As promised, y/n feels the lips of her sensitivity start to throb at her impending release, the sensation making her clamp her thighs tighter around his meaty limb. As her knee now presses against his bulge, Harry cries his sudden pleasure out in her mouth, and that’s all it takes for her to let her orgasm consume her. She unravels on top of him, one of her hands shooting to cup at her pussy in an attempt to quell the overwhelming throb. Harry draws soothing caresses down her back as he look at the sticky mess she’s left in her panties, damp patch matching the one tainting the material of his jeans. "All ruined, just as they should be," he smirks at the sight before giving her a sweet kiss.

Flushed skin and blown pupils, she slowly regains her breath, "take off your pants and take me to bed now?" she requests.

"You’re quite demanding for someone who’s just gotten off," he keeps taunting her. After all, winding her up has always been one of his favorite thing to do, and dare he say in the past two years, he’s gotten quite good at pushing her buttons. Now he’s got new ones to figure out and play with, the thoughts has him pulsing in his jeans.

Y/n doesn’t relent in her advances, she’s never been one to bow at his mockery, "thought you like how bossy I could be. Something about the way I put you in your place, if my memory serves right."

"Anytime, anywhere, you’re the boss of me, love. But this," he cups at her cunt, adding pressure on her clit, "this is mine to have. Understood?"

Y/n’s about to combust from all the desire firing up every one of her nerve-endings. His words might be the strongest aphrodisiac she’s ever experienced, she can’t wait to see what more tricks in has up his sleeves. "Now get up and show me the way to your room, pet," he softly commands before leaving a peck on her cheek.

They both get up from the couch, and y/n guides them both down the hallway to her room, her hand wrapped in his tightly. Once they’re standing by the bed, Harry is surprised to face a patient y/n, biting her lips and awaiting his next directive. He doesn’t think he’s ever been more turned on in his life, "undress me, love" he murmurs against her skin after kissing her forehead.

His jeans are quickly discarded but before his boxer briefs follow suit, y/n can’t help but tease him in reprisal, "looks like I’m not the only one who made a mess in their panties."

He lets out a boisterous laugh while she smears open mouth kisses along his stretching jaw, "mmm, I’d rather make a mess somewhere else," his innuendo causing her to gasp while he works the strap of her bra. Once she’s gotten rid of his last piece of clothing, his cock springs up, free of it’s confines, dollop of pre-come already pearling at his tip, and sticking to the skin of his stomach.

With a gentle grip at her hair, he has y/n’s head tilted backward, to let his mouth make its way towards her already pebbled nipples. Since she can’t look down, y/n blindly reaches out to wrap her hand around Harry’s thick shaft and starts massaging him in languid strokes. "Your hand feels so fuckin’ good around me, pet, I wanna fuck you so badly," he hisses around her nipple, before kissing his way back up to her lips.

He starts backing her towards the bed in small steps, but she brings a hand to his chest at the feeling of the edge of the mattress brushing against the back of her knee, "wait, wait, wanna taste you first," she insists and Harry doesn’t think he could ever say no to that face, no matter how much he wants to just sink home inside of her in this moment.

"Fuck, you’re killin’ me, love," he pinches at her waist and lays his forehead against hers, "you want my cock in your pretty mouth, before I drive it home in your cunt, is that it?" She nods, eyes turning into two lustful fireballs. "Okay, love, but y’ can’t keep it on your tongue fo’ too long, cause I really need to fuck you, alright?"

Y/n hastens to lower herself when he bids her "right then, on your knees and open wide fo’ me," and her brows furrow in confusion as she watches him stray from her spot. Picking up a plush cushion from her bed, he places it on the ground for her to knee upon, "there love, want you to be comfortable," he runs his fingers through her hair, and her heart grows three sizes bigger at how tender he can be in amidst his filthy ways.

Sensually, y/n brings her lips around the crown of his cock, her tongue teasing its way across the salty skin. Once she’s licked up all the previous mess, she starts working her way down his cock, hand stroking at the base. After bopping up and down a few time, she removes her month from his swelling cock, and lets a string of spit fall down onto its head and make its way to his balls. "S’right, pet. Get me wet," Harry rasps in appreciation. Now that she’s got him properly slicked, she goes back to pumping his hardening cock and takes him into her warm inviting mouth, determined to have him all the way inside. She feels her throat expands to accommodate his thickness, and the pressure makes Harry tighten his hold in her hair, "fuck, that’s it, love. Take me good."

Muscles already tensing up in preparation for his climax, when y/n’s hand finds his full and swollen balls to roll them together like dice, he is quick to calm her zeal, "Christ pet, you gotta stop before I can’t help myself," but his tone hardens when she defies his demand, "come on now, s’enough."

Once she pulls off, the sight of her flushed face and puffy lips induces an animalistic groan to come out from his chest, as he thumbs through the wetness coating her chin. Taking the hand resting on his hip to guide her up, he captures her lips in a searing kiss, the taste of his arousal blending in their mouths.

His hands come down to knead at the flash of her ass, before he scoops her up and on the bed with a quick flex of his biceps. "Harry, please," she whines in impatience, hands gripping at his sides to pull him down against her. His rock hard cock slides against her clothed pussy, pins and needles cruising along their skin and only fueling their eagerness.

"Need me in your belly, pet?" Harry keeps working her up, as he slides her soiled panties down her legs, "need me to fuck you so good, you forget I was ever a jerk?"

She’s putty in his hold, legs wrapping around his waist to feel the pressure of his member on her bare lips , "yes, yes, I wan’ it," she pleads.

Harry would love to tease her further, have her writhing and proper begging underneath him, but at this point it would be self-torture to even consider. Instead he pumps at his shaft to give himself some relief, their sex so close his knuckles graze at her clit every time his fist comes at the top. "You ready?" Harry utters softly while spreading and skimming her cleft with the head of his cock. It has y/n gripping at his hair, a series of delirious ‘yes’ tumbling form her mouth, so he doesn’t wait a second more to push his tip past her threshold and begins his descent in her warmth. "Fuck, t’feels so good. So wet, and tight, and warm," he thinks out loud once he’s stuffer her full, balls pressing against her ass.

Y/n whimpers against his lips, urging him to start moving to quell the building pressure coiling in her belly. A slow roll of his hips finally gives her reprieve causing her to moan in gratitude. She’s already so close, it baffles her how this man could have her coming apart at the seams without doing much. His thrusts starts gaining zeal then, betraying his own yearning to take the final leap. "So tight, love. Can feel you squeezin’ me, are you close already? Is my girl gonna cum fo’ me again?" he grunts in her ear while he pounds into her dripping cunt. Y/n doesn’t offer a response, too caught up in a daze of bliss, but her clenching muscles is all the answer he needs to start nudging his thumb at her clit. A several flicks across the sensitive bud later, her orgasm is pulsing through every bone and fiber of her body, walls hugging Harry’s cock so tight, it has to pause his hammering.

Waiting for her to catch her breath, he peppers delicate kisses along her cheek, "was that good, love? Think you can give me another, uhm?" he asks when she’s regained some of her senses. The pressure at his groin is growing more and more the longer his cock remains unmoving entombed within her vice, and the luscious agony must be written all over his face, "yes, Harry, wanna be good for you" y/n cups his jaw tenderly.

He nods at her approval, "good girl," delivers a sweet earnest kiss to her pouty lips as he pulls out and spins her around to lay on her stomach. His hand brushes the hair off her skin so he can sew a string of kisses at her shoulder blades and neck. Painfully red, his cock is propped between her buttcheeks, "can I take you like that?" he punctuates his inquiry by rolling his hips backward, tip lingering at her soaked entrance. Y/n clutches the sheets firmly, as she murmurs a faint ‘please’, back arching at the thrills consuming her mind.

Harry plunges in her wet core in one smooth swing, hand digging at her hip to keep her steady as the other one interlaces with hers to lay on the mattress above her head. Unforgiving lunges have y/n cinch around him, face buried in the sheets and muffling salacious wails of pleasure, and he doesn’t think he’ll be able to steer from his end for much longer. He slows his cadence to steady and firm strokes, slipping a hand around her waist to polish her swell.

A million tremors spark off the onset of Y/n’s climax as she shudders in a firework of ecstasy. Harry doesn’t relent until he’s worked her through completion and can no longer stop the coil in his loins from snapping. His release fills her in several spurts of wet warmth before he flops down next to her, positively fucked out.

They both lay unmoving in comfortable bliss for a few minutes, before y/n plops her head on his chest and an arm around his torso, her leg sneaking in between his. "Well, here goes two years of sexual tension," Harry says jokingly, fingers drawing abstracts design on the skin of her back. It might just be his favorite canvas to paint on from now, he muses before chastising himself at the onslaught of filthy thoughts tagging along. A playful slap on his abdomen takes his mind out of the gutter, "don’t ruin the moment," y/n says in fake admonition before placing a tender kiss on the spot she just abused.

"M’sorry, love. M’just really chuffed to be in your bed finally," the last word reminding her that while she’s struggled to come to term with her feelings for him, ransacking her mind for a possible change of heart, he’d only seen her in but one light. The revelation still has her floored and giddy, "can I ask you something?" she asks as there was still one question pacing back and forth the pathways of her mind. Harry hums in acquiescence, "anythin’ love, by brain is yours."

She feels his hand cradling her skull followed by a small peck to her forehead, and she smiles at the gesture, "why did you stay away that night at the exhibition when you got the prize? Why not coming forward?" It’s been bugging her brain since it happened. Although she didn’t have much insight on anything at the time, most of the pieces of the puzzle fell in place after the big reveal; but this, she still can’t make sense of.

Harry lets out a long breath, organizing his thoughts, "two reasons," he starts off tiredly. "One, I kinda like having this secret business going on, and like, as long as nobody knows, I am in control of how and when it happens, you know? And the moment I let go of that, I can’t go back." He searches her face for any hint of confusion but she’s just patiently listening. "Two, when we bumped into each other at the gala, I got convinced you’d never see me differently regardless of how good a painter I was; and that had become a big part of who El Patrón was."

It’s the first time she hears his alter ego’s name from his mouth and with how flowingly natural it sounded coming out of his lips, y/n suspects that it’d been a conscious decision on his part. She recalls their interaction that night, the way they fell in their usual ways of ping-ponging vindictive words until one of them has enough and leaves the premises (usually y/n). A lump starts forming in her throat at the recollection of all the other fights they’ve had and how they’d all been pointless wastes of time and energy, now that she knows she is meant to be in his arms. She wishes things could have been different but the warmth of his body around her overweighs her regrets. They’re here now, looking bright toward the future, and it’s all that matters.

"I’ll keep your secret if you want, be the Lilly to your Hannah Montana," she tells him lightly before they both laugh at the silly reference.

Happiness and glee has Harry tightening his hold around her shoulder, "nah, I don’t wanna play double-agents anymore. I wanna be the guy who gets the girl." He dips his head to catch her lips between his own, reveling in their newfound intimacy. Turning her face against his chest, Y/n impresses her bashful smile on his swallow-tattooed skin, before she lays a trail of pecks tickling the area underneath his armpits, "well, you got me now."

➪ Masterlist

#harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #Harry fic #enemies to lovers #angst #so much angst #smut #I didn't think I could be this filthy lol #uni au #artstudent!harry #art #harry fanfic #harry styles writing #reader insert #harry styles au

179 notes · View notes

ktheist · 3 years

Text

04 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au.

➙ word. 2.9k

➙ warnings. angst

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ warnings. explicit content. smut.

➙ synopsis.

“you wanna say goodbye?”

“yes, i would love to say goodbye.”

one second, you’re exiled from taehyung’s room and the next, you’re under lockdown in the same exact room you were forbidden to enter.

the boy who always made a fuss about cleaning up - cleans up his mess without a single complaint. you thought he’d come knocking on the (his) door and ask for your help but after an hour of twiddling your thumbs and swaying your feet in the air, kim taehyung finally walks in with beads of sweat on his forehead and that ugly stain of a vomit on his shirt.

he pulls it over his head and tosses it into the laundry before pulling a fresh mickey mouse printed shirt and slips into bed. the temptation to text jeongguk or hoseok or jimin to pick you up has never been stronger but you bite the inside of your cheek, lay out the futon and turn off the lights.

“good night, tae.” you say into the darkness, not expecting for an answer.

“why did you do it?” the darkness whispers back.

“it just happened,” you know better than to offer half-baked excuses for something you completely intended and would even pursue if you didn’t get caught in the middle.

when silence lapses into the room, you thought the matter done and buried six feet under you and taehyung’s conscience.

not the first time you’ve been wrong.

“why seokjin? why not me?” his lips brush yours, tasting like heartbreak and missing the part where he’s supposed to be drunk and out of his mind for even daring to get so close to you.

to let his hair brush against your forehead. to let his hand snake down your thigh with feather light touches until he’s an inch away from grabbing your ass. if he dared try, your kick wouldn’t be aimed at the air to which he moves it away and places that hand next to your head, boxing you under him completely.

“ew, what the fuck?” and despite the trapped-between-a-rock-and-a-hard-place situation, you manage to lean as far away as you can. or so you’d like to think, but you can still feel his breath fanning your neck.

you wish you have an owl’s ability to twist its neck all the way to the back.

“you’re my best friend, taehyung! get off!” you feel like a child hitting her father with her tiny little fist. taehyung doesn’t even flinch when it hits his chest.

but he pulls away anyway, standing on his knees over you within a lull in time before he falls back on his butt in the space between your parted calves. the wrist of his hand that’s propped against the floor brushes against the side of your foot.

“do you get it now? we grew up together,” his voice echoes into the dark, “my brothers are your brothers- that- what you did- that was messed up, ___.”

“so? was creeping up on me like that necessary?” you retort, pushing yourself up and hearing the thud pillow you vehemently hurled at the silhouette of the man hunched over a couple feet away from you, “you perv!”

“how much do you like seokjin?” he asks, trapping the pillow in his lap, under his elbow, but before you can even say anything, he shoots you another string of question, “do you even like him?”

“stop making it sound like i’m the bad guy,” you huff, “as if your brother’s such a saint. he wanted it just as much.”

“i don’t care who wants it more, fuck’s sake,” he says roughly, “all your past relationships have only been sexual.”

holding up one hand, you find your shadow cloaked fingers much more nails, “your point being?”

“don’t you stop to think about how much things’ll change? how awkward it’ll be at family dinners once you finally got tired of each other? how awkward it’ll be for me?”

“oh, because everything’s about you, isn’t it?” you roll your eyes yet your stomach churns.

only silence hangs over the darkness as your teeth sink into the soft flesh of your bottom lip. taehyung pushes himself out and marches out of the room whilst you stay rooted in your spot, curled into a ball with your legs against your chest.

when morning comes, you’re awaken to the sound of taehyung padding around with a towel wrapped around his waist, water dripping off his hair and trickling down his chest, “there’s no one if the bathroom, if you wanna wash up.”

it’s the only exchange you have in the morning and throughout the drive to your uni until taehyung parks the car in the spot somewhere near your faculty.

“i thought about it,” you finally say, breaking the silence. the way he turns to you in your periphery makes you want to shrink into the seat and crawl away like an ant but you shrug instead, “what you said last night - i thought about it... you’re right, you guys are the closest family i have here. and i don’t wanna ruin that just cause i can’t keep it in my pants.”

the soft hum of the music fills the space between you, making the unspoken truth a bit more bearable than a pin-drop silence. taehyung’s hair sways for the briefest moment as he arches his brows in contemplation before unsmiling lips curl into that signature box smile, “really?”

“yes, really,” you roll your eyes, “one dick wasn’t worth losing my best friend over.”

“i’d hug you but i’m still having withdrawals from what i saw last night,” tahyung’s face scrunches in disgust.

“oh so that’s what it takes to get your sleazy hands off me. by the way seokjin-” trickles of laughter escapes your mouth as you hop out of his car, managing to avoid his swatting hand just in time, “bye! thanks for the ride!”

the mindless banters between you and taehyung never cease, if anything, it goes from playing rock-paper-scissors to decide where to eat to googling up and showing each other pictures of poisonous shrooms in case you get lost in the woods for more than 36 hours.

you used to have lunch together every other day, but taehyung comes to you for a continuous three day, hitting four days streak in between classes this week. each time bearing that boyish grin that could fool just about anyone when it comes to picked-up pieces of a broken heart.

“she texted me,” he shrugs, twirling his chopsticks in the bowl of cold noodles and letting the silence hang stale without any hint of providing more information until you nudge it out of him.

“i didn’t text back.” he says it as if it’s the easiest thing to do.

“it’s so easy for you boys, huh?” you don’t know where in the deities greenland he got the narrowing of your eyes and the scrunching of your nose as-

“seokjin didn’t text you?” the titled smile of his tempts you to smack it off his face right that instance.

“how- wha- that literally has nothing to do with your bitch ass ex-girlfriend who were talking about though?” kim taehyung doesn’t offer any response, only the sway of his shoulders as he laughs before digging into the sweet, savory noodles in front of him.

it’s only after you’ve returned to your faculty, fast-walking towards your lecture, that you find out the subject matter himself sitting hunched over on one of the benches laid out along the roofless pathway that leads to your faculty. the jaws of the girls and gays that happen to be standing a few feet away, drops at the way seokjin looks up, eyes squinting at the sudden intrusion of the sunlight before his lips curl into a smile.

“hey,” there’s that smile you miss so bad.

it turns out seokjin’s little shit of a brother and your ass of a best friend snuck into his room, flashed a light over his face, bypassed his phone’s lock and deleted your number, blocked you on snapchat and unfollowed you on instagram.

“and here i thought you were done with me,” your jaw would have hung loose if you don’t have the tip of your venti mocha swirl keeping your lips together as you stare at the pavement, walking aimlessly with seokjin down the path of rose beds.

“i took the day off, decided to try my luck, and hope you’d see me at waiting for you awkwardly - everyone probably thinks ‘who the hell is this old ass guy hanging around-’“ his words get cut off by your gasp as you feel your face hurting from the way your lips are almost reaching your ears.

“you did?” shoulders sagging, you press a hand to your chest where you heart flutters with a sort of warmth, “for me?” before holding your arms out in an invitation for a hug and retracting them not even a second later, “no wait- i promised tae i wouldn’t do this.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself at the sky rose garden because the pathway you found him at, all of a sudden, becomes a runway for the girls and gays. they pass you in a guise of walking by whilst their eyes linger on his broad chest and pants that hug his thighs and the protrusion of his natural size that wasn’t going to get smaller than that.

“what he doesn’t know won’t kill him- or us,” there it is again, the melodic hymn of a chuckle as he opens his arms for you, the action ever so natural, as if he’s done this a couple of million times.

and just like that, you fall into his embrace, cheek mushing against his chest as you inhale the familiar scent of mint seaside and the faintest scent of woody earth. you find it unfair that his heart beats steadily whilst yours thrash in your chest. maybe that’s the cause of your cheeks heating up.

“i can do it, you know?” his voice vibrates against your ears in a honeyed tingles, “i can use my ‘big bro influence’ and get him off our backs.”

you lift your head, breath stuttering at the sight of star glinted eyes gazing down at you with the gentles smiles, “should you?” but you shake your head a second later, “no, he’d hate me forever - he’ll know i put you up to this because you’re too nice. you’d ne-”

a finger under your chin and a tilt of your head and you’re lost in an ocean of galaxy, “i brought up the idea, if anyone’s gonna get in hot water, it’s gonna be me.”

“that’s not what taehyung’s gonna think,” the recollection of your conversation with the aforementioned man floods your mind and almost as if an invisible current wraps around your body, you find yourself taking a step back in surrender.

“and he’s right, seokjin,” the way his eyes flash with a sort of emotion - one that you can’t pinpoint, let alone interpret the meaning of - doesn’t go unnoticed by you yet you go on, “this has to stop. once the passion simmers down and we get bored of each other, what do you think is gonna happen?”

but the words that hits the air is like frostbites to your warm, beating heart, “you already have it in your mind that we’re gonna break up.”

it takes you a second to clear your throat, another to gather your thoughts, “relationships like ours always end with a break up.”

galaxies are littered with illuminating stars but you’re a fool to have turned a blind eye to its dark side. and seokjin’s stars have dimmed, leaving only a trail of shadow in those clouded eyes.

but the half-hearted smile that curls on his lips appears like a ray of sunlight on a cloudy day, “do you wanna at least goodbye?”

your eyes follow his that trail down to the noticeable bulge in his pants.

“yes,” you beam, “i would love to say goodbye.”

the cars and the scenic view of the highway pass by in a blur, not that you’re in a position to stare out the window like a heartbroken woman whose fiancee set out for way.

“slow down,” there’s a desperate plea in his voice, “i don’t want to cum too early.”

the stern, warning look he shoots you is makes you giggle. what with his flushed face and twitching self in your hand.

how adorable.

“but you taste so good, jinnie,” your tongue sweeps past your lips, licking the pre-cum off his oozing tip.

“keep teasing me like that if you want me to pull up and fuck you on the side of the road,” the threat on his tongue sends tingles down your spine.

eyes glinting, you can basically hear the blatant disregard in his voice when he first asked if you’d climb up in his lap while he was hitting the back of your throat after you’d quickly scurried into his car for the last goodbye.

so you take it slow, licking him down his length as his hand settle on your head, caressing your hair.

the door closes behind you as seokjin pushes you against it, his hand on your cheek as he crashes his lips against yours and your hand reaching under his boxers. it looked almost painful as he zipped up his pants before getting out of the car and walking the distance between the parking spot and the apartment.

you distinctly remember the sight of a blanket on the couch and an opened laptop on the coffee table, the red of the cans of energy drinks laying around on the ground and surface of said coffee table - they only ever try to clean up when they know you’re coming for your weekly stay over.

but who are you to judge when your clothes soon join the cans on the floor, forming trails down the hallway.

by the time your body lightly bounces on top of seokjin’s bed, you feel the cold air brush against your skin whilst he stands over you like a beast drinking in the sight of the prey he’ll devour. but you don’t mind if that allows you to admire the beautiful landscape of tight abs and powerful physique.

a sort of dread washes over you at the thought of such length coming close to the apex of your legs. taking him in your mouth was doable but only because you’ve had enough practice to know how to adapt to certain lengths by steadying your breath. but you’ve had enough experience to know you wouldn’t just be able to get use to his size right off the bat.

and he’s the biggest you’ve ever met.

your hand runs over the ridges of his muscles biceps before they twine together over the nape of his neck. it must have been the way you look at him, the yearning that pours through gaze and beckons him like a siren’s song.

the spot of the bed a few inches from your head dips as he props himself on his forearms, lips marking your skin as his.

“seokjin- ah!” you should already used to the bold caress of his tongue around your nipple.

your control is devastated, your thighs are quivering and seokjin’s touches have enthralled you in a fierce flare of yearning.

“ah,” you breathe out, gaze unfocusing as pleasure and discomfort flood from your core while he deliberately stretches you out.

his hand returns to the side of your face as he stays inside you, lets you feel him, take him for what he is whilst he kisses your cheekbone, your jawline and burry his face in your neck.

your breath stutters as you feel him slide out of you, heart beat stammering for the briefest moment when his tip kisses your entrance before he pushes himself in deeper than before.

but you know you haven’t taken all of him in.

not yet.

“you’re stretching me out so good,” you say barely above whisper.

“not even half is in, baby,” is all he says before you feel the muscles in his back flexing as he shifts most of his weight onto his hands, thrusting deeper into you.

“fuck,” you moan, the discomfort fading away as pleasure surge through your body in waves as your arms wrap around seokjin’s neck, face buried in his shoulder until you don’t know where he starts and where he ends.

lost in wicked delight, your fuzzed mind barely registers the sound of your phone despite its blares a few inches above your head where you remember tossing to before slipping out of your jeans and succumbing to the reckless savage lust that neither you nor seokjin should speak about to a single soul.

“pick it up,” the man’s husked voice drums in your ear clearer only because of the cease of ripples of pleasures as he stills.

“wha-” you don’t say much, groping around for your phone before shooting him a pleading look of ‘can’t this wait till after you give me the greatest orgasm of my lifetime?’

“it’s taehyung,” the name that spills out of your mouth strikes guilt into your beating heart.

“hm? you’re tightening up. is it because of my little brother?” the surge of possession in his voice tempers with your sanity, it drips like sweet honey rose and mars your skin with its thorns, “answer the call.”

note. ooof ig yall know what next chapter’s gonna be. maybe.

taglist. @aretha170 @scalubera @ambersaesthetics @heyjiminnie @hyuck-me @fanfuckingfic

#bts scenarios #seokjin scenarios #seokjin fic #bts fic #bts x you #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #bts smut #seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts x reader #bts au #bts fluff #seokjin fluff #jin smut #jin scenarios

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sorenskyhigh · 3 years

Note

What about a s/o that moves around in her sleep... Like me. I kick and I somehow end up upside down (my face at the end of the bed)... Kenma, Hinata, Tendou & Bokuto...

Thank you so much for sending in so many requests!!!!!!! 💕 💖 Seriously!!!!!! @thatfunnysprout has great content I suggest you check it out!

A S/O That Flops Around Like a Fish Out of Water When Sleeping

Featuring Kenma, Hinata, Tendo, and Bokuto

Kozume Kenma

The first time Kenma sleeps in the same bed as you is when you offer to help him study in his senior year

Kuroo is, obviously, gone and busy with uni

You both study until it's dark so Kenma decides to stay there

You are putting your stuff up and getting ready for bed

You turn around and see Kenma already curled up under your blankets

You were going to let him have the bed anyway but he didn't even ask, boyfriend or not

"What are you staring at?" He asked and lightly patted the bed space next to him

You flushed, you knew you were a rowdy sleeper

You didn't want to end up punching or kicking your boyfriend!!!!

"No, I'm going to go sleep on the futon"

"What? Why? I'm not going to do anything, puddin'."

The little nickname he gave you made you weak

How could you say no? His pout was irresistible

"But I move around a lot in my sleep. I don't want to bother you."

"I'll be fine, pudding. Besides, we'll end up sleeping in the same bed someday, right?"

He smiled oh-so-innocently at you as you couldn't help but flush very very red

He patted the area next to him again, this time with more persistence

You slid in next to him saying "If I punch you and knock you out you can't be mad at me"

"I could never really get mad at you, pudding."

You were sleeping face to face holding hands

Not to long after you flopped over on your back, your arm dangling over the bed

Kenma wasn't a light sleeper by any means, but this was his first time sharing such a small space and being around you thus vulnerable

So he forced his eyes open

They burned from being tired

He saw your arm and knew it would go numb dangling like that so he brought it back over, turning you over as well

Then he was jolted awake from one of your legs flying over and resting across his thighs

He chuckled a little

You hadn't been joking when you said you moved alot

Then you practically scared the shit out of him when you pulled him into a bear hug

Kenma now felt very uncomfortable

His face was pressed into your chest and your legs tangled

One of your hands was woven into his now very messy hair

Kenma didn't know what to do

He didn't know where to put his hands that wouldn't be inappropriate

And one of your legs was pressing right against him crotch

You couldn't breathe well either since his mouth and nose were firmly pressed against you

You started rubbing his hair, still sound asleep

You whispered a very adoring Kenma before planting a kiss on the top of his head

He smiled little, still holding back laughter

Kenma started to slowly pull himself away, untangling himself from you

"No~o, Kenma!" You said clinging onto him even tighter

And somehow you were still asleep!!!!!

Kenma couldn't help but let out a small chuckle

He managed to free himself and wrapped his arms around you

One arm over your middle, the other coming up under your head

He planted a kiss on your forehead

You smiled sluggishly and happily slurred "My Kenma"

Thus made Kenma's whole week to say the least

He insisted the next day that you barely moved and that he had no idea what you had been worried about

A bruise on his shin said otherwise

But he hid it well with help from Lev

Shoyo Hinata

Hinata usually would fall asleep at the table while you help him with his homework after school

You would have to bring a single tatami and lay it next to your bed

He knew you were a wild sleeper bc you had accidently slapped him on accident when he'd sleep on a cot on the floor next to your bed

He would always joke that you'll take his eye out one day and he won't be able to see to play volleyball

He's a real good sport about it though

This time, Kageyama was studying with you and Hinata

You had been helping them out for awhile until you guys noticed that it was dark, like 11 at night

So Kageyama was staying over

Hinata said he could share your bed and Kageyama could sleep on the tatami

Kageyama made a joke about how he wanted to get soem sleep that night

Hinata started an argument with Kageyama about how he wouldn't do that and he wanted to wait until you two graduated

You honestly didn't want to hurt Hinata in your sleep, but you didn't have anywhere else for him to sleep and it was really late and both boys lived a good ways away from your house

You positioned the tatami a little further away from the bed than if Hinata were to sleep on it

Hinata likes to feel close to you even if you're smacking the shit out of him

Hinata decided to sleep on the outside bc once you were so active in your sleep you rolled out of bed onto him

Both of you woke up screaming and scared everyone in your house

Hinata quietly promised you he would sleep with his back to you

Kageyama was fast asleep in the middle of your room

Hinata was sleeping peaceful until you threw your arm over and just about took his eye out

He giggled, almost waking Kageyama up

Hinata very lightly poked your side and it caused you to roll over with a slurred sorry

He giggled again and fell back asleep

Hinata deftly throughout the night would tap you to wake you up enough to flip over

He's very understanding and works with you very easily with it

Satori Tendo

Satori always made you feel really safe when you cuddle so you fall asleep on him a lot

Honestly, bc he was so much stronger than you that he would snuggle you and pin you down

Satori would only let you move if you really needed too

He handles it the best on this list

You've never been able to smack him bc he never lets you

You told him about it and he took it in long strides

Get it bc he has long legs nvm

Anyways.......he actually finds it funny

Even endearing

He'll make jokes that you get very handsy

When you blush he'll take the opportunity to kiss you all over your face

Then continue to razz you by saying he likes how you're so forward when you're not in your right mind

Then he gets super flirty and says he'll make you lose it with his voice alone

Satori also completely enrapts you when you guys sleep so you can't move around either

Satori loves this about you actually, he can't even explain why he loves it but he just does

All of the things you think are bad about you, he cherishes and tells you he loves them

He so thinks the sweet things you say about him in your sleep are the best

But, even though he would never admit it to you, some of the things you say scare him

You've said things along the lines of "Can you see its heads, the man in the corner"

One time you said "Hey do you hear that?" And then someone knocked on the door

He whole heartedly believes you get teleported somewhere in your sleep

Koutaro Bokuto

The first time it happened, of course Kou thought you had randomly had gotten mad at him while you were sleeping and slapped him

It was the first time you guys had shared a bed and Kou was trying his best to not make you uncomfortable

He hadn't been able to fall asleep bc he was worried he'd cuddle you in his sleep

But your arm had swung over and domed him

He immediately woke you up and asked you what he had done wrong

You explained to him that you just moved around a lot in your sleep

You had to comfort him for an hour until he calmed down and was reconvinced that you in fact loved him still

He kept that in mind bc you also kicked him square in his juicy ass one time

He cried out so loud you woke up and he tried to stop you from crying and apologizing

Another time you grabbed his face and squished his face against your chest and screamed "I hope you win today, baby" and then proceeded to shove him off the bed

Do you have any idea how much strength you need to push his dummy thicc self off the bed?

He was so shocked that he just stayed there and stared at the ceiling for moment

He then got back into bed, very disturbed, and went back to sleep

Then there's the time you very forcefully grabbed his meaty bicep and licked it

Kou hasn't looked at you the same after that bc you said "Tasty sexy man muscles"

He never told you what you said but he started purposefully flexing just to get you to blush and giggle

Sometimes you flex with him and you both with jokingly flex at each other for like, twenty minutes in the kitchen

You guys do it in public now, too

Also, in his sleep, Bokuto heard you starting to move around so he held out his hand and did it at the exact right time to catch your wrist

He boasts about it all the time

Sorry this took so long, my birth giver decided to stay home for an extra day so I couldn't work on it

@popcorntime-doodles @multifandombrainrot @kneecapstealingalien @jiheonity @weareallhumans123 @smallmangi @canadian-crow @just-jellyfish @immiamarais @i-need-coffee-now-pls @kuroos-world @luminasapphire @silverfire6 @shadowsbutdead @ghostexhibit @simpfornishinoya @goshikisimp @anothershadeofpink @mestayanon @all-around-fandoms31 @myyeetfelloff @itsallgonnabokayihope @g00s3 @boreateo @backalley-astrologer @vaniatslover @lil-mellow-bunbun @strawberrymakki @beelziee @mehreenlol @taiyahhh @sakusasgerm @cr4z3d-cl0wn @detective-shigaraki @brendanfkelley

#haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu!!#satori tendou #miracle boy satori #satori headcanons #hinata headcanons #hinata shoyo #hinata shōyō #bokuto koutarou #bokuto headcanons #kozume kenma #kenma headcanons

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martellthemandalor · 4 years

Text

Fight or Flight - Part 2

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Warnings: langauge, guns, blood, violence, alcohol, angst

Rating: T (teen)

Word Count: 4.2K+

A/N: Part 2!! Here we are after two weeks, which I’m impressed with becuase uni has been kicking my ass lately. Just a PSA that I mildly hate myself for writing this becuase I hate hurting Frankie. Thank you to @mylifeliterally for beta reading this! As always likes are appreciated, reblogs encouraged and comments are adored :)

If you haven’t already, read part 1 here!

Masterlist

GIF credit: @conveniently-available

Staying away from Frankie was working so far, the atmosphere between the two of you softening as your anger faded slowly with the distance. Everyone was happy with this, the boys starting to properly relax again in your presence and your relief at that knew no bounds.

Things were starting to feel like normal again.

Benny’s fight had gone… well you weren’t entirely sure how it had gone, but he was insisting that he had won and that was a good enough cause for celebration in the group.

The old squad had retired to Benny’s favourite haunt, a small Irish themed pub a few streets from the gym. There you were now sat, favourite beverages in hand, talking as if the last god-knows how many years hadn’t passed at all.

Ben had insisted that you weren’t paying for own drinks tonight, overjoyed that your good luck kiss had worked its magic on him. You certainly weren’t complaining, even if you did start to feel a little guilty as the other boys insisted that they pay for a few too.

Fish didn’t say anything to you but you clocked him slip his own contribution into Will’s hand, muttering something to him. Next thing you knew another bottle had been handed to you by the blonde.

A tiny wave of guilt washed over your stomach as you stared at the drink, offering your thanks to Will who simply gave your shoulder a squeeze in return. He knew it wasn’t meant for him.

The feeling quickly washed away though, replaced with that warm fuzz alcohol provided.

While it was true you had planned to lightly flirt with Benny at the start of the evening, you hadn’t expected it to be as enticing as it was to just… keep going. So, you did.

“So Benny, since when I was your good luck charm, hmm?” You queried lightly, nudging him with your elbow.

“You always were Athena, though honestly you’re more of a good looking charm than anything else.” He winked at you. It caused you, Will and Santi to groan in response.

“Come on Ben that was awful, surely you have better lines that from your other good luck charms,” You said.

“Ain’t ever been any other charm but you Ath. You gave us all our luck on missions and it continued into the ring. Wouldn’t want anyone else,” Benny confessed, all the boys nodding their agreement.

The sincerity of his words sent heat flaring to your cheeks. The boys had often joked that you were some kind of blessed, always knowing the best route out of a sticky situation, knowing when shit was about to hit the fan, knowing how to get everyone to safety even if they weren’t with you. You always said it was just paranoia and a lot of experience, but they insisted it was no joking matter how many times it had saved all your skins. All except… once.

“He’s right you know,” A quiet voice caused your head to snap from where you had been staring at your drink. “I know you don’t always believe it, but he’s right. You saved all our asses more times than I can count.”

Frankie. You stared at him, the heat from your cheeks now shifting to blaze a firefight behind your eyes.

“And yet the one time I needed you to save mine, my luck ran out? Is that it?” You snapped.

Frankie shrank under your gaze, refusing to meet your eyes. You watched his hands fidget with his bottle, fingertip skimming the rim. Then, calmly, in a move that you’d never seen before, he placed his hands flat on the table, keeping them still.

“Do you want to do this now?” He asked, his voice low, level, considered. “It’s been killing the guys to find out what happened to us, so do you want to do this now?”

They all were watching you now, four pairs of highly trained eyes bearing into your soul.

“Is that true?” You asked the group. The blaze in you never softening, the bite in your words not held back.

The answering silence told you everything, very clearly.

“You guys want to know what happened, huh? Is your curiosity finally getting the better of you now that we’re both here?” You sniped. It was all of them avoiding your eyes now, heads ducked away from your firing line.

“Hermana, you don’t have to-” Santiago started, cut off abruptly when you threw up a closed fist.

“No, I think it’s time we got it out there. I’m ready to talk. Frankie, honey, do you want to tell them? Or should I?” Fish squared his shoulders somewhat, but still couldn’t look at you. One hand had closed around his bottle again, knuckles white, gripping it so tight it looked as though it could shatter at any moment.

“Fine. Fish left me to die.” You let the words hang. And for a moment, nothing happened. Like the grace period between releasing the trigger on a hand grenade and the moment of devastation. There was silence.

The once light atmosphere instantly thickened as the words hit each of the boys in turn. It felt like smoke had filled the air around your table, swirling around you and choking up the boys before any of them had even thought of a response.

You pushed through.

“It was my last mission, before I was forced out of our company. We were out in the Rainforest, targeting some base camp. Shit went sideways. We all scattered and that was my call. Me and Fish ended up together, you know we always did. I kne- I thought, that he would always have my back.”

It was true. Frankie had always watched your six, more vigilantly than any of the other boys combined. A natural response, you thought, to being hopelessly in love with someone. It had certainly been the case for you. Your usual sharp surveillance turned up to eleven whenever he was near you on a mission.

“But on that day? That day he didn’t. We were being pursued, shots taken on us at every opportunity. I took out three of the guys behind us. Nine shots. Clean kills. No struggle.” You took a breath.

The squad was hyper focused on you, practically unblinking as you conjured the past into their minds. Even Frankie was staring at you now, mouth pressed into a firm line as he forced himself to pay attention.

He owed you that much.

“We’d made it to the hillside, one of our landmarks for tracking the distance back to the rendezvous. Things got real quiet behind us and I thought, stupidly, that we had somehow out maneuvered them. And then the rock-fall happened.” Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment. The memory of the gut wrenching fear so vivid you could practically feel it again, twisting and writhing deep in your belly.

“There were too few and they were too close together to be anything natural. I looked up and there the bastards were. I didn’t even think, just pushed Frankie off the path, down the shallow slope into the undergrowth. I just, wasn’t fast enough for myself I guess.”

You pulled up the left side of your shirt, showing the very obvious bullet wound scar that resided under your ribs. Benny’s mouth fell open, his hand moving towards you, only to swiftly clench into a fist on his thigh.

“I fell. Fell back off the ledge and into the undergrowth with him. Initially it was scrambled calls for med-evac and checking me over and telling me to keep pressure on it. My hearing started to go. Things got distant, but I could make out muffled shouting from above us. Then Fish called into his comm and gave me a look, I had no clue of why he was looking at me that way. Until he left. Left me there, bleeding out on the ground. Dying on the cold, damp earth.”

You cracked then, no longer being able to just play narrator, retelling it from some unfeeling perspective. It was becoming too real, too sharp in your mind as you replayed the event in four-D. You tried to quell the aching urge in your chest to gasp for breath by taking a long swig of your drink.

“I don’t know how long I lay there, in pain and on the verge of giving up, before med-evac showed up and saved me.”

Tears were threatening to roll down your cheeks, your head starting to spin as you battled to keep them at bay.

“Excuse me,” You muttered quietly, flying from the table and into the restroom.

The glass of the mirror was a glacier against your forehead, the smooth edge of the sink below you gliding under your thumbs as you anxiously stroked them across the surface. Your breathing was starting to even out as you used the sensations to ground yourself.

You thought you had been ready to talk about this, especially with the boys. Maybe it was because you had gone about it in a rather hostile way.

That was probably it.

You leant back from the cool glass, watching as your reflection shook her head at you.

“Get yourself together,” You firmly told yourself, “Go out there, apologise and finish the night on a high. Okay?”

The table had gone back to its normally bubbly ambience, the boys talking animatedly amongst themselves.

Your gut did a somersault. They all looked so happy, so carefree, even Frankie was talking happily with them.

You couldn’t stop observing him. The way he smiled and how his shoulders shake slightly when he laughs. His hands were gesticulating wildly when he spoke, the alcohol freeing them from their usual firmly crossed position.

Something flipped in you. The simmering anger that had flowed through your veins at the sight of him evaporated into lingering guilt.

All the tension, everything that had been off about the evening, it had all been your fault.

You took a breath and checked that you still had your phone and wallet in your pocket. You were just going to leave, let the boys have the carefree reunion they deserve.

Shit. Your coat.

Your coat was hanging off the back of the chair that your really didn’t have the stomach to approach right now. You considered making a run for it, just walking past and nabbing it. The problem with that is the boys would instantly notice.

No. Easier to leave it, you can just drop a text to Pope and tell him to drop it at your hotel room later.

You exited the bar quickly, hoping none of the guys saw, and started walking back to your room.

“You left your coat you know.”

Fuck.

Of course Santiago had noticed you slipping away. You stilled, and took a deep breath.

“I- I’m sorry Pope, I just… had to go.”

“You don’t have to apologise, Athena,” Santi spoke softly as he approached you. His arm looped into yours, and as you started walking the two of you fell instantly in step. “It couldn’t have been easy for you to tell us that.”

“No, I do. Not just for unloading that onto you about Frankie, but for being an asshole all evening. I put so much tension-”

“Ath, I promise you that there has been very little tension, things have been great this evening. Anything between you and Fish is between you two alone,” Pope gently squeezed your arm. “Will, Benny and I all knew that things wouldn’t be easy for you two tonight, so I promise you that any ‘tension’ you think you’ve caused was fully anticipated and did not ruin the night.”

The glow of the hotel drew closer with every step and 5 minutes ago the warmth and comfort would’ve been calling to you. Instead, all the warmth and comfort you needed was radiating from your best friend, his words gentle and reassuring in their very nature.

You looked over at him, at the face that had always greeted you on your worse days, and smiled with genuine affection filling your features.

“Thank you, Santiago,” You gave his arm a gentle squeeze, returning the one he had given before. “You always know what to say to me don’t you?”

“I’ve had years of practice, hermana,” He responded kindly.

Pope walked you to the door of your hotel room, even after you insisted that you were more than fine, and left you with a firm hug and a gentle kiss on your cheek. You believed that would be the last you’d see of any of the boys until tomorrow.

Settling in for the night, you were moments away from turning on the TV when a soft rapping at the door was about to prove you wrong.

You padded over to the door and peered through the peephole.

Fuck.

The latch on the door clicked as you opened it for your ex.

“We need to talk.” The words rushed from Frankie’s mouth before you even had chance to take a breath.

Standing for a moment, you studied the man standing patiently in the hallway. His hands were shoved in his pockets, cap pulled low over his face. His stance told you he was nervous, but his eyes betrayed a confidence that you weren’t even sure he realised he had.

“Okay.”

Standing aside, you held the door open and let him slip past you. You shut the door behind him, leaning against it as the lock engaged.

Fish stood in the centre of the room, smoothing down his shirt before taking off his cap and slowly rotating it in his hands. His eyes were steady on your face, waiting for you to make the first move.

The air between you was thick and heavy. The bed suddenly looked like the most inviting place in the room, so you moved to sit on it, positioning yourself at the headboard. You leant forward and patted the space of mattress at your feet, a quiet signal for Frankie to get comfortable.

There was no hesitation his part, swiftly moving to settle cross-legged at the foot of the mattress. Even now, when you both knew that this was going to bare more of your souls to each other than you ever had before, he was still giving you all the space he could.

“Where do you want to start?” You asked, your voice calm and almost, almost, soft.

“You first. Just, tell me everything, whatever you feel or have felt. Me and you, we were… we were never good at that, we repressed and tried to forget. Especially with this and it broke us. So please, please I want to know, I want to understand.” He was almost pleading with you.

Of everything Frankie had ever asked you, this was the most terrifying of them all.

He was patient. Sitting quietly while you gathered your thoughts, he gave no indication of wanting to rush you. He was right. The two of you had never been good at talking out your feelings. You both tended to bottle them up until they exploded in moments of anger or were thrown into sex.

After a few minutes of quiet searching, you finally formulated a script of your thoughts.

“I loved you with everything, Frankie,” You began, taking a deep breath before continuing. “My entire heart and soul, and do you know where it went? With every passing minute after you abandoned me, every second that I lost more and more hope of you circling back to get me, all my love for you bled out.”

Your hands curled into fists on your thighs, the gentle pinch of your nails digging at your palm grounding you from the rise of unbridled emotion. Frankie kept still, attentively listening to your every word.

“My heart shattered away, piece by piece, with every weakening beat and gushed from my wounds. Its out there, somewhere, Frankie. My love for you is stained blood red onto the jungle floor.” Your voice was starting to crack, the tremors in it impossible to ignore.

Frankie’s mouth fell open a little at that. You could see in his face that he was desperate to say something, but he chose to draw himself back, to keep listening to you.

“I thought getting shot hurt, but it was nothing, nothing, compared to the pain of you leaving me to die alone,” You croaked, your throat constricted with the effort of holding back the rolling tears. Tears which were starting to drip down your face regardless.

“You broke me, Frankie. I can’t date, can’t connect with anyone else. Even if I want to I can’t, because I have this constant fear that they will get up and leave me in the dark,” Your breath hitched as the script changed, a dangerous realisation fighting its way to the front line of your thoughts. “And I can’t date them because none of them are you.”

The reaction in Frankie was instant. Choking on air, his eyes frantically searched your face for any sign of a lie. When he found none, you watched as he forced himself to relax, a shaky breath leaving his lungs.

Your own body slumped against the headboard, the admission winding you completely. All your composure was gone. The puppet string that you forced yourself to follow had been severed. There was no room for acting alright anymore. Not tonight. Not with him.

“My turn.”

Frankie shifted on the bed, looking as though he was going to crawl up to you. Instead, he merely turned a little in order to face you head on.

“You deserve to know the truth. I deserve for you to let me do that. Okay?” He was coaxing you, gently.

Even now, after everything, he was still asking your consent.

Your consent to let him talk. Your consent to let him change your memories. Your consent to finally let yourself feel.

“Okay,” You said quietly, a nod accompanying the small sound.

“When you fell beside me, your clothes slowly darkening before my eyes, my first instinct was to call for Med-Evac. I followed our training, trying to stop the bleeding and giving our location over the comms. But, I… they…” Frankie paused for a second, an unsteady hand dragging down his face.

You leant forward, closing the chasm that lay between you and the man you loved just a fraction.

“I heard them shouting above us. Kill all survivors. It wasn’t good enough that they’d shot you, they wanted us, you, dead. I just knew, that if I stayed there, if I called in Medics, if I showed even one sign that either you or I were still alive down there,” He closed his eyes, squeezing them tight for a moment. His fists were closed too, scrunched up in the sheets that lay beneath the two of you.

You shuffled forward. Just a little.

“Dios. (“God”) They would have killed both of us. In those seconds between hearing them and calling off Med-Evac, my mind ran through every single possibility of how I could get you out there alive. I couldn’t lose you. I couldn’t ever lose you, mi petardo.” (“My firecracker”)

You tried to speak, but Frankie cut you off with a shake of his head.

“I made the only decision that I thought could possibly save you. Let them think you were dead. Leave you and make you seem like a lost cause and maybe, just maybe, you would survive this. It was the hardest decision of my entire life. I tried to tell you what I was doing, but I think shock had set in and you couldn’t hear me at all.”

The tears were escaping down his face now, all attempts at staying stoic failing as the tell-tale droplets fell. Your heart constricted at the sight, the urge to fly to him and wipe them away blooming deep in your chest.

“The look in your eyes broke my heart. You were so afraid and I knew you were about to become infinitely more so. Leaving you there was the worst thing I have ever done, in the whole of my life. If I could ever reverse it, if I could ever switch places. I would do in a heartbeat.”

Frankie’s face was glistening, but he made no attempts to wipe away the continuous stream of tears. It drew your attention to the fact that you too were still crying, unregistered droplets falling down your own cheeks.

Fuck. You wanted to reach for him. To pull him safely into your arms and apologise a million times over for how fucking selfish you had been.

The silence was becoming deafening, echoing in the cavern between you, ricocheting back and forth in a plight to be broken.

Then it was like the gaping space between you vanished. A lifeline was strung across, attached to both your hearts as you both opened your mouths and…

“I’m sorry.”

The words were spoken in complete unison. So much more than just an apology, it was an acknowledgment. Of what, you weren’t quite sure yet.

You tried to speak again, but Frankie spoke over you.

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you the truth earlier. I should’ve fought harder to see you when you were so set on not seeing me. Not talking to me. I didn’t want to force myself onto you, into your space. I wanted to give you time to heal. But I- I left it too long. It wasn’t much later that I decided the best thing for both of us was to just let you go.”

Frankie’s silent sobbing was becoming more and more physical, deep, shaking breaths starting to wrack his speech. You found your heart starting to shatter all over again.

Fuck giving each other space.

You practically pounced on him, arms and legs wrapping round him as you buried your head in his shoulder. You told yourself it was because you were trying to hide your own tears. In reality you knew it was because right there is where you felt safest.

It was where you always were safest.

It took a moment for Frankie. It was like his brain stopped working for a few seconds. But once it fully registered that it was you in his lap, his arms circled your body, holding you tight to him.

You felt his face nuzzle into your hair, his tears beginning to dampen the soft strands.

“I was wrong, I was so, so wrong,” Frankie sobbed against you.

“No, shhh, no you weren’t,” You hushed, your hand coming up to smooth over his unruly curls. “I was. I was stubborn and hurting and unwilling to listen to anyone.”

“You were hurting because of me,” He murmured.

“No Frankie, I was hurting because of me. It was my decision to push you first, my decision to not let you see me.”

You pulled back from his neck, moving to rest your forehead against his. Your hands cupped his face, thumbs sweeping over the rosy apples of his cheeks.

“We… we both made mistakes. We both fucked us up. It’s like you said, neither of us were any good at talking out our feelings. This was just the culmination of that,” You breathed it out, the words fanning over his lips that hovered mere inches away.

“I still love you.”

The words were whispered. Barely audible if not for how close you were. A confession so short, yet still held the weight of a thousand bullets.

“I still love you too.”

The parroted words broke down every single one of the walls that you and he had built up over the years. All the heartache, the hating, the yearning, the supressed loving, it all disintegrated in a moment. None of it mattered right now, not now you both knew you had felt it all together.

“Can I kiss you?” Frankie asked. His now words bolder and more assured.

You nodded, momentarily biting you lip before pressing them to the familiar shape of Frankie.

Everything melted away, the room, the world, the past, all with the gentle brush of his lips against your own. It was unhurried, long presses of lips that slowly turned to languid passing of tongues. Relearning what the other felt like, tasted like.

When you finally broke apart, you spent a few minutes in comfortable silence. Your hands glided over each other’s body in the quiet, using feather-light and comforting touch.

“Can we try again?” You spoke the question with firmly shut eyes, afraid that his answer wouldn’t match the one you were longer for.

You felt his hand your chin, gently tilting your head up and encouraging you to open your eyes.

When you did, you found yourself looking into his dark chocolate orbs. The corners of his eyes crinkled just slightly in a way that let you know the smile he wore was genuine.

“Cariño, I want nothing more. But,” Frankie paused, the smiling falling from his face. He pressed his forehead to yours, rocking his head to the side slightly as he did. “We need to be better. Better for each other. We… we need to learn to talk shit out.”

You brought your hands up to move his head, bringing it down to rest in the crook of your neck, cradling it there.

“We will,” You promised. “We’ll be better. We’ll work this out.”

And as you sat there, holding your world in your arms, you knew that you and he finally had the second chance you didn’t know you had been craving.

TAGLIST

@din-damn-djarin

@phoenixhalliwell

@legili-mens

@jeeperky

@autumnleaves1991-blog

@arabellathorne

#Frankie morales #frankie 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales fanfiction #triple frontier fanfiction #santiago pope garcia #frankie catfish morales #benny miller #will miller #will ironhead miller #i killed myself a little with this i wont lie

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secretficblog · 3 years

Text

In another life - Chapter 2 - Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Long before there were new Jedi, before the fight between the Resistance and the First Order came to an end, there was just a young man, skilled in flying anything he could get his hands on, with the urge to be something greater. Then there was you. You broke him

Rating: M for smut in later chapters

Now on ao3, come say hi if you want to!

Warnings: both of them are idiots, I feel like I only write idiots with zero communication skills, you’ll see; little angsty but not to much; you dumped him;

no use of y/n

Word count: 1577

previous chapter here , next chapter at the bottom

Poe Dameron’s day had started out pretty normal. He had showered quickly, put on a fresh undershirt and jumped into his worn, orange flight suit. The material felt like a second skin to him by now. General Organa had announced the mission to him, briefed him in a quiet and urgent voice and he had boarded his ship soon after, his squadron following behind, loyal and willing to fight by his side as ever. Just your average day. In hyperspeed he did something out of the ordinary though. He should have known that this was the tipping point, where it all went to shit.

His fingers grazed the edge of something hidden he had tucked away beneath his controls. It was a photo, edges worn and creased, well loved and faded. He looked younger in it, more carefree, arms wrapped around your waist while you had your legs wrapped around his torso. Your faces were smushed together, cheek to cheek and you were both smiling brightly at the camera. Pain welled up inside of him as he brushed the tip of his index finger over your face. You had left him behind years ago, tears brimmed in his eyes as he remembered the moment he had realized you were gone. The strain on your relationship had been big, he knew that. He had been preoccupied in the end, trying to find the right place for himself in this twisted galaxy and had joined the Resistance immediately after you left since he had toyed with the idea for a while. His accomplishments filled him with pride and his relationships warmed his heart but nothing and no one made him feel the way you used to. Poe dwelled on the idea “What if…?” every once in a while but there was usually something that triggered it, sometimes it was just a smell leading to a memory which hit him harder than he thought it would and then he found himself in his room, curling his hand around his mother’s necklace as he remembered how close he was to giving it to you. Before.

The drop out of hyperspace tore him away from his train of thought and he pushed everything that didn’t concern the mission away. Black-Two, Black-Three and Black-Four landed on the surface while Poe surveyed the situation from above. He wasn’t comfortable with the idea of this but after Wexley had insisted that he was their best flyer and they needed air support, in case the First Order sent reinforcements. He prided himself in listening to his team, never had he intended on becoming a high ranking asset of the Resistance, he just wanted to help, to have a purpose in life.

Poe hovered close by, hearing the commotion below him and then he saw the First Order ship abruptly leave the surface, without even noticing him. Poe considered engaging with them but he knew better than to anger a beaten First Order fleet. He waited with baited breath for the comms to come to life and hear his squadron talk to him, alive and well.

“Black Leader, this is Black Three, Black Leader, come in please.”, came Jessika’s voice over the comms. Finally.

“Black Three, this is Black Leader, you good?”, he replied.

“Wexley got hit but one of the villagers took down some troopers and basically saved his ass.”

Kriffing hell, he thought to himself. He was glad Wexley was okay because Poe was not sure how well he would react to losing someone close to his heart right now. Hell maybe they could even bring home a new recruit if that villager was any good, Maker knows the Resistance needed it.

“Wexley, Kun, Pava, you’re magical, well done. Black Leader landing.”, Poe laughed.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Dameron.” The com-link crackled and Pava was gone.

He landed his X-Wing carefully, jumping out on the opposite side of his team. “You know guys, I’m really freaking proud of you, showing those bucketbrains how it’s done. I think we deserve a go-”

Kriff. This couldn’t be. His mouth moved, no words coming out. He blinked. Maybe he got shot out of the sky and this was all just a fever dream. Maybe he was currently lying in the wreckage of his X-Wing and bleeding out and you were the vision taking him to the afterlife. There were no words that could accurately summarize his emotions right now.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”, was what came out in the end. His eyes locked with yours, a feeling of familiarity and alienation that washed over him at the same time was making him feel uneasy.

“Poe, I-”, you started but he cut you off. He couldn’t do this right now, not in front of his squadron.

“No, don’t bother. None of my business, eh?”

The amount of bitterness in his own voice didn’t escape him but he had stowed his feelings for you away for so long, he was allowed to let some of it out, one way or another. He let the rest of the conversation wash over him, nodding along to the information his squadron gave him and reluctantly agreeing when they suggested that you should join them on the mission. He knew what you were capable of and his feelings were not supposed to be his main concern right now. After Pava and you had left and Wexley had boarded his X-Wing to return back to base to have his wound looked at, Kun and Poe headed out into the opposite direction to asset the damage in the village.

A few steps away from the ship Kun touched his shoulder softly. “I don’t want to intrude, Dameron. Really, but I haven’t seen you react this strongly to anyone before. Who is she?” Her question was quiet but firm. Poe had always admired the way she made people open up to her, it wasn't like she forced the information out of anyone. People shared their worries with Karé Kun willingly and she somehow always found the right words to sooth the pain of others.

He closed his eyes, letting out a shuddering breath. “She was my girlfriend. Before the Resistance. I was ready to marry her, kriff, days away from asking actually, when we had a fight. I told her I wanted to join, fight against the First Order, had been wanting to for a long time actually but I just couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing her. She said she didn’t want me to hold this over her later, didn’t want me to think I made the wrong decision. I went to bed angry that night, we never used to. The next morning she was gone, the only thing she left behind was a note next to our bed. “I’ll find you in another life, Dameron, be a hero.” it said. Can you believe that? I tried to stay, waited for her to return for a few days but staying where we used to spend all our time together made me slowly go crazy. So I left and joined the Resistance shortly after.”

Karé was staring at him with big eyes. “I’m so sorry Poe, I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No one knows”, he replied, “but I’m glad I told you. Thank you for listening Karé.”

She smiled softly up at him and squeezed his shoulder. They went on their way but they were able to smell that there was nothing left before they could see it. The village was nothing but burning piles of what must have been the village's inhabitants at some point and ashes by the time they got there. Flames were licking at the small homes and the smell of burning flesh and wood lingered in the air. Poe called out for survivors but only the sound of his own voice echoed back to him. A window exploded out of one of the houses. He dragged a hand over his face, feeling drained at the sight in front of him. His comlink began lighting up at the same time as Karé’s did.

“Kriff. It’s Jess! Distress signal!”, she called but Poe had already broken onto a sprint, your name falling from his lips.

He didn’t dare to slow down all the way to the location Jess had sent him, only halting at the cave entrance for Karé to catch up before storming in blindly. It was too quiet and he looked around quickly, eyes searching frantically until they landed on you. He breathed your name before catching himself and straightening up.

He automatically kicked into Commander-Dameron-Mode, as Jess liked to call it, and started comforting the villagers. He only registered Pava making a loud noise in the back of his mind but the loud thunk that followed had him turning around quickly, half expecting more troopers. Instead he saw you, crumbled on the floor, burned arm outstretched and looking pale. He was by your side in an instant, cradling your head softly in his lap. You skin was ashen and you didn't react to him softly shaking your shoulder. He tried again, more frantic. “Hey, come on, wake up baby”, the endearing term fell off his lips easily, like it had all those years ago. "Let me see those pretty eyes, come on." He looked up to his crew, tears threatening to spill out of his eyes. "I just found her again...", he whispered.

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

I would love to hear what you think about this, uni just started again, I’m unsure of how often I will be able to upload but I’m trying my best. Thank you for reading! xx

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Next chapter here

#poe dameron #poe dameron / reader #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe x reader #poe / you #poe dameron x you #poe dameron / you #ial #in another life #star wars fanfiction #star wars sequel trilogy #reader insert

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

CSI: Rogers and Barnes- The Serious Cereal Serial Killer

Episode 5- Defrosting

Co written with @icanfeelastormbrewing

Episode Summary: So nothing like the possibly one time love of your life being hurt to make you realise that actually, you might just care a little bit… Episode Warnings: Bad Language words.

Episode Pairings: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark (The Ice Queen is thawing…)

Song for Episode: For What It’s Worth by Liam Gallagher

A/N: This entire series contains dark humour (CSI + Brooklyn 99=CSI Steeb) Avengers and Stark Spangled Banner Easter Eggs and jokes. You don’t need to have read the SSB series to understand or enjoy this, but we’ve used the Universe to spin this off from so somethings might puzzle a few of you if you ain’t, but feel free to ask.

Also, our knowledge of American Policing and Brooklyn is limited, so bear with us if we slip up, but at the end of the day this is a fiction so we’ll claim any mistakes as creative license!!

As always we live for re-blogs and comments

CSI Rogers and Barnes Master List

Main Masterlist

“I’m so sorry for your loss…” Bucky bowed his head as he stood next to Steve’s mom.

She dropped her eyes to the floor taking a deep breath.

“I’m alive, jerk.” Steve shot back from where he lay on the hospital bed.

“I was talking about the car, punk.” Bucky shrugged “Or the beard. Man you look like 12 years old without it.” “Not like I had a choice.” Steve grimaced pointing to the line of stitches in the corner of his mouth “And is my car really totalled?” Bucky grimaced and nodded “Fraid it looks that way.” “Shit.”

“Language.” Sarah looked at her son. “Steve, it’s just a heap of metal…”

“No, no bad move, he loved that metal.” Bucky shook his head.

“He should be grateful he is getting away wit cuts and bruising.” Sarah narrowed her eyes “Could have been a hell of a lot worse, he’s been in an out of consciousness for almost 5 hours! I mean what was that idiot doing running the light?”

“It happens Ma.” Steve said gently “He’ll get dealt with.” He rubbed his shoulder which felt a little stiff and then looked up as the Doctor that had been looking after him returned.

“Ok Mr Rogers…your recent scan results show there’s nothing going on with your brain…” Bucky sniggered and Sarah slapped him around the back of the head. “Owww.” he said, reaching up to rub at his hair.

“So if you have someone at home with you, I’m happy you can be discharged.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him for the rest of the evening” Bucky nodded. The Doctor smiled and set about sorting out the forms and in a little while they were making their way, albeit slowly, out of the hospital.

Steve was grateful to his ma and Bucky for getting him home. Once his mother had stopped fussing as much as she could do she finally left with the promise of returning in a few hours and Steve went straight to his bed after popping a few painkillers. He was lucky, it was bruising more than anything, and a few stitches to his face where the glass from the car windows had cut him but all in all nothing too drastic.

He couldn’t help but think back to the last time he’d been injured enough to land him in hospital. They’d been on a drugs bust down town and had gotten separated, and thanks to a catastrophic coms failure he had been ambushed by 6 of the gang at once. He’d managed to get the upper hand at one point until someone had crashed him straight round the back of the head with a piece of wood. Thankfully, it hadn’t been too serious and Katie, Natasha and Clint had stormed in a few seconds later and it was all locked down. Katie had been by his side in the hospital for hours until Peggy had turned up and dismissed her, rather curtly actually. Katie had bitten her tongue and simply left with no fuss, and he and Peggy had ended up having a huge argument.

“I’m your girlfriend, Steven, not her.” Peggy crossed her arms and glared at him as she sat in the chair. “It’s ridiculous how much she hangs around you.” “Peggy, for god’s sake.” he groaned “She came in the ambulance with me!”

“Why not Clint, or Natasha?”

“Oh, you know what, I don’t want to do this now. My head hurts and, well, frankly I’m sick of having the same discussion. She’s my best friend.” “She wants to be more than your friend Steve.” Peggy sighed “Ever since her and Ward split she’s been hanging around like a bad smell.” “She needs support.” Steve shook his head

“She has a brother and god knows how many friends.” Peggy shook her head “But you were the one she called to help her kick Grant out, you changed all her locks…”

“Peg, she’s hurting, and I’m not gonna turn my back on her. She wouldn’t do it to me.” “Bet she can’t wait to get me out of the way.” Peggy sniffed, pursing her lips. “Soon as I’m off to London you mark my words…” “Oh stop being ridiculous.” Steve closed his eyes “Katie wouldn’t do that. And I wouldn’t do it to you either, you know that.” Oh the irony. In the end it had been Peggy that had done it to him. She’d departed to London for the 6 month placement, and they’d both agreed to stay together, what was 6 months after all when you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone and they wanted to spend the rest of theirs with you?

Or you thought they did. Less than a month later he had received the message, telling him that it wasn’t working, that she thought he was a burden and a tie to a life she wasn’t sure she wanted anymore. He’d tried calling, even debated getting a flight over to speak to her face to face but she’d point blank refused to even consider it, telling him if he turned up she wouldn’t see him.

So it had ended and he and Katie had navigated their heartbreak together. In bars, taking weekend trips upstate, hiking…anything that took their mind off things. And he dare say now, in hindsight, that it had brought them even closer. He understood now that he and Peggy were never going to make it. They were too different. Peggy was practical, realistic, stoic in every area of her life whereas Steve, whilst all those things when he needed to be, also had a softer side, showed his emotions, wore his heart on his sleeve.

Like Katie.

Breaking up with Peggy at the time had killed Steve, but now he realised that it was for the best. But he also knew that it had really tainted his views of relationships in general, even almost a year or so down the line. And the only person he had been close to since he had pushed away.

With a groan he lay back on his pillow and closed his eyes, thankfully the codeine did its job and he slipped into a dreamless, painless sleep.

****

“Guys…” Bucky said loudly over the chatter in the briefing room. Everyone turned their attention to the front and he noticed a few puzzled glances. It wasn’t unusual for a Sergeant to take the mid-morning briefing in any other Precinct, but it was unusual in the 101. Steve liked to see his troops in the morning, he felt it was only fair. “Captain Rogers won’t be in today, and probably not for a little while. He was involved in a car accident last night and…” “An accident?” Wanda spluttered out. “Is he ok?”

“He’s fine. The car that hit his wasn’t travelling that fast it just unfortunately hit the driver’s side. They checked him over at the hospital and decided he was good to go home late last night, or earlier this morning even. Few cuts and bruises, no doubt some injured pride and his car most certainly isn’t ok but…he’s good, just needs to rest.” He couldn’t help but glance at Katie who was looking down at the table as she bit at her thumbnail. Her brow was furrowed and he could see in her face she was concerned but trying not to show it. Bucky didn’t say anything, simply carved up the duties. Whilst the murder investigation was taking most of the resource, there were still the other crimes to cope with and as such he ended up sending Clintasha to go and speak to the victim of a mugging. But for him and Stark, the morning was slow, real slow. She had already called through to Peralta and arranged for them both to head over there the next morning once he had been able to pull the files from the archive but until they didn’t have much else to go on.

“I just hope looking at the old case throws something up.” Katie said, looking at him “Because if not, we’re dead in the water. No leads, nothing…”

“Let’s worry about that tomorrow.” Bucky said. “Look, why don’t you finish for the day? There’s really nothing we can do now.”

“I just got a few bits to tidy up and then I might do, thanks.” she looked back at her screen.

Bucky kept one eye on her as he continued clearing the admin from his inbox, and he could see that she was grappling with something.

“Have you errr…spoken to Captain Rogers?” she asked a few minutes later. Smiling to himself, Bucky looked up.

“Careful, Stark!” Bucky smiled “You almost sound like you care.”

She scowled, “I’m not a completely heartless bitch.”

“I never said you were…”

“Just because I hate him doesn’t mean I want him hurt…”

At that, Bucky almost fist pumped the air when he realised that actually this could work in Steve’s favour somewhat.

“You don’t hate him.” he said, matter of factly, looking at Katie. “You hate what he did, but you don’t hate him. And that’s what you find so hard to take about this entire situation.”

She paused, open mouthed for a moment, before she snapped her jaw shut and folded her arms, glaring at him. “What are you my therapist now?”

“No, just someone who the pair of you are starting to really piss off…” he sighed and ran a hand dramatically through his hair “Did you ever stop to consider exactly why Steve did what he did?” “Because he’s an ass hole.” Katie said, “He got what he wanted and then…”

“You and I both know that’s bullshit doll face.” Bucky said “He’s never been one for one night stands. Had a few at Uni but, well, frankly he always told me he hated it, but that’s not the point…the point is he cared about you…”

“Funny way of showing it…” “…and he did what he did because he thought, in his stupid pea brain, that it was for the best.” “The best?” Katie snorted “he thought bailing on me, and ghosting me was for the best?” “If you two had made a go of things, one of you would have had to move, and it would most likely have been you because Captain vacancies are harder to find…” “Yeah, I kinda figured that we’d have to do something about the chain of command, but, for fucks sake, I was contemplating going to DC…we could have sorted this, made it work!”

“I get it, I do…but this is Steve we’re talking about!” Bucky chuckled with affection, he was a dumbass but he was still his best friend. “The guy is an idiot when it comes to women and very rarely lets his heart rule his head…but with you he did. And that shows me just how much you mean to him.”

Katie looked down at her hands, her fingers were twisting around one another. After a little while she looked up and shook her head “That doesn’t make what he did ok.” “No, and I’m not trying to make excuses for him.” Bucky said gently “Just trying to give you the explanation you’re not allowing him to give to you himself.”

Katie turned away from him and wiped at her eyes. Bucky was tactful enough to look away whilst she composed herself.

“If you wanna go and check in on him I know he’d appreciate it.” he said, sowing the seeds of the idea in her mind. “Just think about it.”

She shrugged, but there was a definite softer expression on her face as she turned back to her computer.

About half an hour later Bucky came back from the bathroom to find her gone. Tacked to his monitor was a post-it note.

“Thought about it…thanks Buck.” “Don’t blow it Punk…” he mumbled to himself as he re-read the note before scrunching it up and throwing it in the bin, a huge smile playing on his face as he laced his fingers behind his head, swinging his feet up onto his desk.

“What you looking so smug about?” Natasha asked and he looked over to see he was being watched by her and Clint.

“Well…” he said, leaning back in his chair “Seems that the stupid Punk getting t-boned made Katie realise that she actually still cares about him. So Phase 1 of ‘Operation Cap’n Crunch and Special K” is officially underway. Time to prepare Phase 2 Romanoff.”

“Wait, Phase 1 was getting someone to T-bone him?” Natasha looked at Bucky, her mouth open.

“What?” Bucky frowned as Barton looked at him.

“That’s just sick man…” Clint pointed at him before he frowned and looked at Nat “hang on, what plan?” “Oh after I spoke to her yesterday, I talked to Serge and we decided that we’re fed up of the pair of them moping around and pretend hating each other, when they’re both blatantly still head over heels despite their protestations to the contrary.” Nat shrugged “So we came up with a 3 step plan, of which the first phase, I thought, was simply making them talk…”

“Yeah, and I was gonna lock them in a cupboard or his office until they agreed to do so but hey, I’m all for grabbing the moment, right? This worked a treat” Bucky said, grinning at them both.

“So what’s Phase 2?” Clint asked. Natasha arched an eyebrow and grinned at him.

“Wait and see Barton, wait and see.”

Clint blinked, looked at Natasha who now had a devilish grin spreading across her face an then back to Bucky who was smirking into his coffee cup.

“Man I love you guys!” Clint said with a small laugh as he leaned back in his chair.

***** “Ma for the last time stop fussing…” Steve looked at his mom as she set a mug of coffee down on the table in front of him.

“I’m your mother, Steven…” she looked at him. “It’s my job to fuss. Now, what do you fancy for dinner?” He was just about to tell her he was capable of dialling a pizza when he heard the key in the lock and glanced at his watch, frowning. It was early for Bucky to be home.

“Buck?” he questioned. But the reply wasn’t what he was expecting, or who he was expecting for that matter.

“No, it’s errr, me.”

Steve looked at his mother whose face had lit up at the sound of Katie’s voice and he pushed himself up of the sofa, hissing a the bite of pain in his side and turned to see her stepping nervously into the living room.

“How did…” he asked and she looked at him, sheepishly, holding up her keys.

“Never did give it you back.” she said softly. He watched as her eyes travelled over the bruising and cuts on his face and her brow furrowed somewhat as she swallowed thickly and continued “Thought you might have changed the locks, you know like you did for me when I threw Grant out.” “Not really the same thing.” he said with a soft smile. “But I’m surprised you kept it.” “It was on my keyring.” she said, shrugging “I kinda forgot about it, should have mailed it to you or something…” Steve could tell that wasn’t the truth. There’s no way she would have forgotten about it, but he didn’t pick her up on her white lie. The fact she had kept it made him slightly hopeful she wasn’t quite as ready to give up on him as she made out.

“Hi Sarah…” she said in a small voice, her gaze turning to his ma.

“Oh my little star…” Sarah hurried over to give her a warm hug before she held her at arms length “Let me look at you…I love the hair!” “It’s grown a little.” Katie smiled, running her hand through her hair, the longer side was now an inch or so below her chin.

“How have you been?” Sarah pressed.

“Oh, you know…” she shrugged “Ok.”

Sarah smiled at her and then over at Steve before she nodded. “Well I was just about to head out to the store to pick something up for tonight.” “Ma, I told you…” “And I told you to shut up.” She shot him a look “Does carbonara suit?”

Steve sighed “Yeah, that’s great…” “Ok, so, I’ll be back in a little while…” she said, rushing for her purse.

“Hang on I’ll get my wallet…” Steve made to move and she shook her head

“I don’t want or need your money.” she said sternly. Again he rolled his eyes and noticed a smile on Katie’s face.

His ma made to hug her again “If you’re not here when I get back, you best stop by some time…oh, did he give you your pie the other night?”

“He did and it was amazing as always!” Katie smiled, giving her another hug “And I will, I promise.” With that his mom left them alone, and once the door was shut Katie turned back to him and looked him up and down as she raised an eyebrow “You look like you got in a fight with a bus.” “Not quite, it was a chevvy Blazer.” he said, chuckling slightly at her joke.

“How are you feeling?” “I’m ok, just a bit sore. Be fine in a few days.” She nodded “Ok, well, that’s all I wanted to check…when Bucky said you’d been hurt I just…�� she trailed off, taking a deep breath before she sighed, “God why is this so awkward?”

Steve gave her a soft smile “Because I fucked it up?” She gave a soft huff of a laugh.

“Do you want a drink?” he offered “Ma just made a fresh pot of coffee so…” “I err, I don’t…” she looked at her watch, biting her lip. Steve could tell she was searching for a reason to say no so he decided to put her out of her misery.

“It’s fine, honestly.” he said, “You don’t have to make excuses not to stay. I appreciate you popping in.” She licked her lips and looked at him, her green eyes searching his before she smiled softly “Coffee’s great, you stay where you are. I’ll get it.”

“Everything’s in the same place…” he said softly and she nodded. But she didn’t move straight away. Instead he noticed her eyes flickering to the space by the TV where the photo of the two of them used to be.

“It’s in the bedroom.” he said. She looked at him, blushing slightly that she’d been caught but didn’t try and deny what she’d been thinking.

“I’m not gonna lie, my copy is in a drawer.” she replied quietly “I couldn’t bring myself to throw it away but…” She swallowed and headed into the kitchen. He slowly sat back down and he heard her clinking about before she emerged with a mug. She placed it on the coffee table, removing her keys and phone from her pocket before she tossed those just to the left of her mug and took a seat on the sofa, picking up her drink and cradling it in both hands, the way she always did when she was seeking comfort.

“Has the station fallen to pieces yet?” Steve asked and she snorted.

“Not quite.” she smiled “To be honest it’s a bit slow. Oh, erm, I’m going to see Peralta tomorrow with Bucky, dig through the files on the old rape case. I know it’s just a hunch but something feels off.” “Well your instincts have never failed you before.” Steve smiled gently.

She smiled and shrugged “Who knows?” “Stop it.” Steve said.

“Stop what?” She frowned

“Doubting yourself.”

“I’m not.” “Yes you are I can tell. You always do it.” “No I don’t.” Steve chuckled and then winced at the pain in his side “Yes you do. And you’ve no reason to. You’re a damned good detective.”

She took a sip from her drink and looked down before she opened her mouth as if to say something but then closed it. She took a deep breath and swallowed, her eyes remaining on the floor.

“Use your words Doll.” he said, softly.

“I don’t want another argument.” she said quietly. “It doesn’t matter…” “Katie.” he urged, his voice almost stern.

“I just… “ she licked her lips “I was just thinking that, well, I can’t remember the last time we did this, you know, drank coffee in your lounge.” “I can tell you exactly when it was.” he said “It was the morning of the Christmas party. About 12 hours before I sent everything sideways.”

She looked at him, before she looked away and Steve felt a pang in his chest that was totally unrelated to his accident. He yearned for her, longed for the way things used to be before he’d fucked it all up.

“I never thought you would be the man that I cried myself to sleep over.” she said so quietly he almost missed it.

As she placed the mug back on the coffee table Steve took a shaky breath “It wasn’t easy for me either you know?” he looked at her, blinking back his own tears “I hurt too.” “Yes but you did it to yourself Steve!” she said, running her hands over her face

“You think I don’t know that?” he said, his voice a little louder “If I could change it, go back and do it differently I would but I can’t…”

“Bucky told me why you did it, that it was your stupid idea of being noble.” she cut him off, her voice soft as she shook her head “Frankly I’ve never heard anything as ridiculous in my life…all that stuff and panic about getting involved in someone in your chain of command…Steve, I had had feelings for you for a long time before that, do you think for one second that I never considered what it would mean? Fuck, I’d just told you I was considering the DC move, I’d have been well out of your chain then!”

“I should have talked to you, I get that…I do” he pressed “I was an idiot and I panicked and then I didn’t want anything to stop you moving or getting in your way and tying you back here..”

“You thought I’d do a Peggy?” she looked at him, frowning, as if she was understanding something for the first time, which in fairness she probably was. “That I’d move and things would end”

He didn’t reply, he knew that one look in his eyes would be enough to tell her. She always knew.

“Steve, what Peggy did was cruel. The way she left and then ended it, calling you a burden and a tie she didn’t need…I’d never have done that.”

“I know.” he said softly “I wasn’t thinking.”

“No, you weren’t.” She shook her head before she spoke again, her voice cracking slightly. “You know what the worst thing about all this is?”

One look at her was enough to tell him she was struggling to keep herself controlled, he could see from the way her chest was heaving and she was stuttering for words.

“I can’t hate you.” she shrugged “No matter how much I try, and believe me I tried, I just can’t. I wanted so hard not to care when Bucky told me you’d been hurt, but all I could think about was making sure you were ok.”

She stopped for a moment and took a deep breath as her tears began to fall. She looked up and he saw her before him, as utterly broken as he had ever seen her. Her face crumpled and she stuttered to him. “I miss you. I miss my best friend.” With that he felt a tear slide out of his own eye and he moved from his chair onto the sofa besides her, pulling her to him, ignoring the aches and pains in his battered body. She didn’t shy away, instead she pressed her face into his chest, her arms linking round his waist at the back as his hands gently slid up and down her back, soothing her as he had done so many times before.

“I’m sorry.” he managed to stutter “I really am…I never wanted to hurt you sweetheart, I swear…”

He pulled her tighter to him and then instantly winced as the pain in his ribs. She pulled back straight away and looked at him.

“Steve…”

He felt a little light headed then, and it must have shown as she frowned a little.

“Hey, you look really pale.” she said, concern etched across her pretty face “Don’t pass out on me…” “I’m fine, honestly…” he protested. “When was the last time you ate?”

“I errr…” he shrugged, scrunching his eyes shut. “Yesterday, some point. Mac and Cheese.” “You made Mac and Cheese?” she said as a twitch in the corner of her mouth grew into a small smile. “Sorta, well, opened the box…”

“Mac and cheese, from a box.” the smile went and she looked horrified “Steven that is disgusting. I showed you like a million times how to make it properly.” “Yeah well it never comes out as well as yours so…” he blinked again and took a deep breath. No, he definitely felt dizzy.

“You need to lie down.” she said, standing up.

“I’m fine…” he protested, but she wasn’t fooled. She never was fooled by his bullshit. “Stop being a stubborn asshole and do as you’re told.” she said sternly as she grabbed a throw cushion and positioned it against the arm of the sofa. “Go on.” she patted it gently and he slowly moved himself backwards, laying his head where she told him.

“Just need to close my eyes for a moment…” he muttered, and he did.

************

Steve blinked and stirred a bit. He was tired and his ribcage ached. He opened one of his eyes and saw Katie sitting on the armchair beside the couch, her shoes discarded and her legs tucked underneath her as she was reading something on her phone. A warm feeling filled his chest and he closed his eye and smiled at the thought that she was still there, looking after him, keeping him company even though he was sure she’d rather be anywhere else. She had said earlier she had missed him, she had missed her best friend. If only they could go back to the way they were. He was snapped from his thoughts by the sound of keys in the door before it opened, shut and his mother’s shoes tapped down the hallway.

“Shhhh” he heard and opened one eye again, ever so slightly, to see Katie moving her right index finger to her lips and pointing her head at him, where he lay on the couch holding onto a yellow cushion for dear life.

“Is he asleep?” Sarah asked in a hushed voice.

“Apparently” Katie answered, and he didn’t miss the fond look she shot his way. “He was feeling dizzy and I forced him to lie down and rest. I didn’t want to leave him alone so I thought I’d wait for you or Bucky to come back.” she added as if trying to excuse herself for being there.

“Good. Thanks for looking after him.” the old woman smiled at her fondly. And then Steve decided he should make them aware he was awake.

“I wasn’t dizzy.” Steve suddenly said with a hoarse voice. He rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up so fast all his body was in pain and he grimaced again.

“Steven!” Sarah scolded him. “Be careful, love. Have you taken your painkillers?”

“Yes ma.” he answered. “Took them before you left.”

She nodded and smiled at her son and then turned to Katie “And you, my dear, are having Carbonara with us this evening?”

"Sarah, I don’t want….” Katie started but Sarah cut her off.

“I wasn’t asking Star.” she said “It’s the least I can do after you looked after this mad driver I have for a son. Besides, you’re helping me fix it, we have a lot to catch up on.”

“Wait Ma! I’ll help you with those” Steve said as his mother turned to head for the kitchen, taking a shopping bag in each hand.

“No. Stay put. I’m perfectly able to do it myself, Stevie. You rest until dinner’s ready.” she refused her son’s offer.

Katie stood up and sighed. “I’ll better go help her.” she said before smiling at him and ruffling the hair on the top of his head softly, and God that was a balm to his soul. Such a familiar action she had done so many times before, but yet never had it felt so significant as it did then. The ghost of a grin threatened to spread on his face at her show of affection but it was quickly turned into a grimace as she tugged on the longer locks at the top of his head.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed and Katie, who was heading for the kitchen turned to look at him and grinned.

“Serves you well for letting them shave you.”

“I was kind of unconscious so I didn’t have much of a choice” he looked at her “And besides, they had to stitch my lip.” he shrugged innocently.

“Whatever.” she said over her shoulder walking towards the kitchen.

Steve leant against the back of the sofa, closed his eyes and let out a contented sigh. Was it him or was the ice queen beginning to thaw?

He must have dozed off again, but that stupid grin was clearly on his face as he was jerked back to the here and now by another voice about 15 minutes later.

“Are you high?” he heard Bucky ask him. Steve opened his eyes to see a smug smile on his friend’s face who was examining the packet of painkillers the doctors had prescribed him.

“Jerk.”

“I love you too, honey.” Bucky grinned at him and frowned when he heard the two female laughs coming from the kitchen.

“Is that…?” Bucky asked squinting his eyes at Steve and he nodded.

“She came by this afternoon. Ma invited her for dinner.” he said.

“Well, this is getting interesting.” Bucky smirked, tossing the packet of painkillers down onto the table “Very interesting indeed.”

Steve didn’t miss the cunning smile on his friend’s face as he turned and headed for the kitchen.

“Buck.” Steve warned him, but Bucky was already gone. He came back a few minutes later drinking a beer and sat sprawled on the armchair beside the couch and Steve cast a longing look at the bottle.

“Don’t even think of it.” he said mocking Steve’s captain voice “You’re not allowed to drink a single drop of alcohol on those things.”

Steve groaned took the TV remote and started channel-hopping until he found a film that caught his attention.

“Why does Superman wear a cape? I don’t get it. What’s with making superheroes look like idiots with those spangly tight outfits?” Bucky began to rant but Steve ignored him.

Bucky side eyed him for a moment, before he smirked to himself. “Sooo. I guess you and your girl are on better terms now, seeing as she still hasn’t torn your head off.”

“She’s not…”

“Your girl. Hmmm, yet you wanted to punch me in the face for buying her lunch.” Bucky finished for him. “You’re smiling, just saying pal.” he added pointing at him with his beer bottle before turning to the TV screen again. But as he gave Steve another side glance, he could see the blonde was smiling again.

Twenty minutes later Katie emerged from the kitchen cleaning her hands with a tea towel.

“Dinner will be ready in five, so move your asses and help me lay the table.” she said standing in front of the TV screen, hands on the buckle of her belt.

“Yes, Mrs. Captain.” Bucky sat up mocking a salute.

Kate shot him a glare and both turned to watch as Steve was struggling to stand up from the couch with a pained expression to no avail.

“Here, hold on to us.” Bucky offered reaching one of his arms out for Steve to hold at the same time Katie approached the coach and offered hers. But they couldn’t lift his weight.

“Come on, man. Are you on our team?” Bucky asked between gritted teeth.

“Just represent. Pull!” Steve bit back. And with that they were able to lift the Captain’s weight and haul him upright.

“Are you ok? Are you still dizzy?” Katie asked Steve while she rubbed his arm.

“I’m fine, doll. Thanks.”

Bucky flinched waiting for Katie’s outburst at the pet name, but when nothing came he just raised an eyebrow at the pair but they were too busy looking at one another to notice him. He just smiled, shaking his head. He had to remember to text Romanoff later.

“Ok, pal. Lean on me, I’ll walk you to the dining room.” Bucky said ducking under Steve’s armpit and putting his friend arm over his shoulder while holding his waist with his free hand. “We are your sidekicks after all.”

“Yeah, just like Mulder and Scully you two.” Steve scoffed.

“Thought it was Cagney and Lacey?” Katie, who was walking ahead of them, turned to quip.

Soon after the table was ready and Sarah had finished fixing a salad to go with the Carbonara. She passed the bowl to Katie who placed it at the centre of the table and all four sat to enjoy the food. But as Bucky was about to take a breadstick Sarah slapped his hand.

“What’s with people slapping my hands?” Bucky protested

“Have you washed your hands, young man?” Sarah asked. "God only knows where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing.”

“Or who.” Katie muttered under his breath and shared a smile with Steve who was sitting opposite her. He grinned back.

“Yes, I did ma'am.” Bucky answered, taking the breadstick from the bread basket and biting it unceremoniously.

“Are you going to tell us where you’ve been all day?” Steve asked looking at him while he helped himself to some salad.

“Playing Captain Dickhead.” he quipped.

Sarah, who had just stood up to go find a pitcher of water, smacked him on the back of his head.

“Language!” the old lady said and Katie couldn’t help but snigger.

“Ouch!” Bucky dropped the fork on the plate and rubbed the back of his head as he looked at Steve “Doing your job, buddy. Which I must say I did beautifully.” he added with a smug smile.

“Well, he didn’t burn the station down.” Katie shrugged.

“Chasing the bad guys. Looking after your herd.” Bucky continued.

“We’re not goats.” Katie scoffed.

“That is debatable, honey.” Bucky said pointing at her with his fork and Steve smiled at the bickering between the two. “And I met a friend later.” he added casually.

“Oh, anyone nice?” Sarah asked excitedly as she returned with the water.

“Don’t encourage him Ma.” Steve shook his head.

“You could say that.” he looked at Sarah smiling before adding “Name’s Sammy, we’re not a thing yet.”

Steve saw Katie stop eating and try to catch Bucky’s eye but he was avoiding her purposefully. After a second or two she gave in and stood up.

“I’ll fetch the Carbonara, pass me your plates.” she said holding out her hand at Bucky and looking at him intently. He shot her another passive look, but there was a faint tinge of red in his cheeks and as Steve watched Katie smirked, knowingly, before she collected the other plates.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” Sarah said to Katie as she headed to the kitchen. “And James, make sure you treat your dame right.” he said looking at him before raising an eyebrow at her son.

“Will do.” Bucky said looking at the woman at the same time he reached for his water glass.

“You’re not a thing? Yet?” Steve asked Bucky leaning an arm on the back of the chair to look at him directly.

“Nope.” he replied, not wanting to go into many details.

“But you could be?”

Bucky shrugged.

“What are you waiting for?” Katie asked placing a pasta plate in front of Sarah.

“Just leave him alone.” Sarah said patting Katie’s hand. Katie shrugged and dropped another plate in front of Bucky before returning for her and Steve’s.

“Thifif delishos” Bucky grunted with his mouth full of food.

“Thank you, I guess. Did you mean the food was delicious?” Sarah laughed and Bucky nodded.

“It is good, thanks.” Steve said, nodding appreciatively.

“It should be after feeding on mac and cheese from a box. Did you know that?” Katie asked Sarah, who nodded resigned and shook her head.

“What’s wrong with box mac and cheese?” Bucky looked up.

“What’s wrong with it? It’s disgusting!” Katie said, affronted.

“Katie cooks the best Mac and cheese you’d ever taste.” Steve told Bucky before he shot her a wink as he refilled her glass with water.

“Thanks, Stevie.” she smiled back softly.

Bucky couldn’t help but grin. “STEVIE?” he mouthed to Sarah who nodded at him, smiling knowingly.

For Steve it was like he had been taken back to before everything went wrong. Sitting with his Mom, Katie, eating dinner…with the addition of Bucky this time. It was nice. The 4 of them ate, chatting, there was no arguing, no frosty moments. Ok, it wasn’t as easy as it had been once upon a time but still, this was progress. And he wasn’t taking it for granted.

Eventually his mother announced it was late and that she should be going. Much to Steve’s disappointment, Katie checked her watch and nodded in agreement.

“I’ll walk down with you Sarah.” Katie said “Tony’s already bitching about me treating his place like a hotel. If I’m much later home he’ll probably threaten to Ground me or something…”

Bucky and Steve both sniggered as Sarah looked at Katie.

“If he’s annoying you that much you can always come stay with me love.” she said and Katie grinned.

“You’d feed me that much apple pie and banana bread I’d be the size of a house.” “Well you do look like you need feeding up….have you been eating properly in DC?” “Ma stop it.” Steve sighed as Katie laughed.

“I’m promise you I eat as much now as I always have.” she assured the woman as they both stood up. “As you’ve just seen. I look like I’m having a food baby.”

Bucky and Steve both rose along with them, Bucky hugging Katie whilst Steve gave his mom a squeeze.

“Don’t blow this…” she hissed into his ear.

“I’ll try not to.” he replied gently.

She stepped back and Steve turned to Katie. Bucky and Sarah were tactful enough to move away to the door, talking loudly to give them some space.

“Think the polar ice caps are melting…” Bucky mumbled to Sarah who smiled as she watched Katie slip her arms round Steve’s waist.

“None so blind as those who will not see.” Sarah mused back.

“Aint that the truth…” Bucky said.

As her arms connected at the base of his back, the familiar fit of her body against his made Steve close his eyes as he gently hugged her back, dropping an affectionate kiss to the crown of her head as he always had done.

“Thank you.” he said softly, “for coming round and…” “It’s ok.” she said, she stepped back and licked her lips and took a deep breath “Look, Steve, I can’t promise everything can go back to like it was before but…maybe we can move forward right?”

“Forward’s good for me doll.” he assured her.

She smiled and turned towards the door. “See you tomorrow Bucky.” “Yeah later Doll Face…” he said to her retreating back.

The two men watched as she paused momentarily, took a deep breath before she held up her right hand and flipped him off over her shoulder, without so much as a look back.

Bucky let out a bark of a laugh and Steve chuckled as the door shut.

@the-omni-princess @momobaby227 @geekofmanythings16 @angelofhell-666 @thewackywriter @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @asgardlover75 @jennmurawski13 @jtargaryen18 @saiyanprincessswanie @navispalace @patzammit @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @disneylovingal @madzmilllz @sgtjaamesbaarnes @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @official-and-unstable-satan @charmed-asylum @pagesoflauren

#csi rogers and barnes #csi au #steve rogers x original female character #steve rogers x oc #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #clint barton #wanda maximoff #tony stark #sam wilson #thor odinson #bruce banner

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honeyjaez · 4 years

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Maze of Miroh- Chapter 19: The Battle for The Under Pt 2

I have a somewhat long announcement guys so bear with me here.

Ahhh hey guys. I got a lot of reasonings as to why this chapter is so late. First, I started Uni again, and its been an adjustment. Two, some internal issues at work caused me to break down in a complete depression spiral. For about 3 whole weeks I cried at work at least once a day haha. Finally, and this was more recent, but the rumors regarding Woojin. I started this story of May 2019, before Woojin left, and afterwards I vowed I would continue to write him in my story despite no longer being in the group. But this issue it totally different in its entirety. Regardless if they are true or not (and we don't know that they are or not) the way he has handled the whole thing did not sit right with me. This topic hits close home for me as it is and I contemplated removing Woojin from my story all together to avoid making you guys feel uncomfortable as well as myself because it is such a serious trigger. As more rumors came out about his treatment towards the others members and what not I suddenly got a sick feeling in my stomach about him in general. When news first broke out I just wanted to go on in the story, never writing his name again and just totally drooping his character. I thought about telling everyone to not think of these characters as stray kids members and keep him in. But as I've had time to calm down and come to my own decision about the matter, I've decided that I will write him in this story for only this chapter and possibly next. I will be removing him from this story in a plot driven way and I would like you all to respect my decision on this matter. If it comes out later on that he is innocent of all his has been accused, then hey, *shrugs*. But I would rather that than me continue to write such a compassionate and kind character for someone who has lost their way in this regards. I just personally do not feel comfortable at this moment writing him in. Which really sucks because he was such an important part of this arc lol. Anyways, If I have offended you all by my way of removing Woojin from this story I am truly sorry. Again I thought about just totally pretending his character never existed in the first place. But as a writer, it didn't sit right with me.

With that, I have to tweak the story a bit, but I hope you enjoy this little update. Next update is nearly done (Actually this chapter was originally like 3 times longer, but I decided to cut it up.) Have a good night!

The Under:

To say Jisung was in a bad mood was a complete understatement.

All they were supposed to do was get down here, get the information they needed from Dowoon and get the fuck out.

There weren't supposed to be any psychotic speed demons, nor an emo Legolas wannabe with a stick up his ass. And there CERTAINLY wasn’t supposed to be any Virus.

Jisung furrowed his brow as their group ran towards the outer city limits. He looked behind him to see Minho straggling a few feet to the side, the older boy's eyes focused on the road in front of them. Jisung clicked the roof of his mouth with his tongue in annoyance before he turned back around to look at the buildings in front of them.

If only the others knew what they were going through. Jisung almost laughed imagining the raging meltdown both Changbin and Seungmin would have had in reaction to their current situation. They both are used to Chan’s more risky judgments, being in the group for as long as they had. Oh, if they could see us now….

He let out a long-winded sigh of defeat. They should have left when they had the chance.

But alas, he was being the selfish one here, and his other members had to be heroes incarnate, risking their lives for a group of people who they barely knew…Woojin hyung aside. And in return, it would be up to Jisung to protect them all since they were all so infuriatingly reckless.

Nope definitely not annoyed....

Jisung’s ears perked as he heard a voice call out to them as they moved closer to the edge of the city. His eyes adjusted forward to see Wooyoung looking back at them, mouth moving as he voiced a command to them. Right away, the team came to an halt as they reached the first signs of buildings, and Wooyoung turned to look back at them, his eyes dark and hard with determination.

“Since some of you don’t know how our city is set up, we will split up in groups.” he explained “Mingi will go with Minho to the eastern section of the city, while Jisung and I will head to the north… Jongho, you'll be in the west.”

Wooyoung’s voice faded from Jisung’s mind as he felt his blood run icy cold at Wooyoung’s words. Now his annoyance was being overwritten by fear. This was exactly what he was afraid of… they were splitting up.

“Hyung,” Wooyoung seemingly continued, looking towards Woojin “since you know the city, can you head to the center? Our 3 teams will have to work fast, ushering the people back here towards the southern part of the city where the bunker is.”

Jisung shook himself back to the present and looked to see that while his eyes were hard with determination, he didn’t miss the way Wooyoung’s hands trembled at his sides. He regarded the older boy with a wave of understanding and sympathy.

No matter how you look at it, we are working in a helpless situation… At Least he has the good sense to be scared…

But that begs the question. What about him? Was he scared? He was annoyed, that was for sure. But it didn’t take a genius to know his annoyance was just a mask, trying to hide his own fear. No matter what, the odds did not look favorable. 5 of them trying to evacuate an entire city on their own? Working with a timer that they didn’t even know what it’s set at?

No thanks, I want a refund.

Woojin must have sensed Jisung’s negativity, for he set his eyes on the younger, giving out a small, knowing cough to gain his attention. He looked up and locked eyes with Woojin, seeing the elder boy give him a half smile, like he was trying to reassure him.

“It won’t be easy,” he said out loud, tearing his gaze from Jisung’s and towards the party. “It will take all of our best efforts, but remember what Hongjoong said. No one has permission to die here and I am seconding that.”

The younger boys all stared at the older boy, their gaze turning hard with determination. Only Jisung looked apprehensive as he stared at his two teammates, and he found himself looking particularly in the direction of their green-horned Minho, who was still very much a novice in this world.

Jisung thought back to just a few hours ago in their shared room and Minho’s words caused Jisung’s brain to short circuit.

“Jisung, no matter what obstacle, what problem and what path leads in front of you, I believe with every fiber of my being that you will come out on top.”

God I really hope he is right….

If he was going to save the city and keep Minho alive he was going to need all the luck in the world.

Minho’s words replayed in his mind as he caught sight of Mingi making his way over to the brown haired boy. It was then that Minho himself seemed to feel Jisung’s gaze, and looked back, staring evenly. Jisung noticed with a twitch in his face, Minho’s soft eyes showing the slightest of fear to him. But before Jisung could do anything, Minho quickly covered it up with a misplaced resolve.

The younger grit his teeth in annoyance, knowing that look all too well. He saw it enough in his brother when they were kids and enough times in Chan and the others to last him a lifetime.

I swear to god he wants me to hate him...

Nothing made Jisung madder than a beautiful idiot with a death wish....

And Minho was all three.

There were a few exchanges between Wooyoung and the others, but all too quickly it was over and Jisung felt an arm ripping him from the circle, and thus tearing him from Minho’s gaze.

“Come on” Wooyoung muttered quickly “We have the furthest distance needed to travel. There is no time to waste.”

Just like that, Jisung was pulled from his fellow members, his stomach churning at the thought of being separated from them in a situation like theirs. If he isn’t there to stop them from being complete idiots, then who was?

Yep. Definitely annoyed.

“Fuck...” he cursed under his breath as he turned his back around, leaving the group behind as the both picked up speed. Jisung closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer to whatever god lived above to listen to his plea.

“Keep the idiots with a deathwish safe….please…”

Minho

Minho watched as Wooyoung dragged Jisung away, an uneasy feeling in his stomach starting to make its way upwards. He hated being separated just as much as Jisung probably felt. But he couldn’t argue with Wooyoung’s logic, nor could he back down from the task at hand.

He was going to save as many people as possible and show The Order that their time of winning was over.

Minho jumped slightly as he felt a hand on his shoulder, turning to see Woojin give him a comforting smile. “Jisung will be alright Minho,” he said, as if he knew his thoughts. “If anyone can take care of themselves, it’s Jisung.”

“Yah.” Minho agreed with a quick nod of his head.”You’re right.”

“Minho!” Mingi called “You ready? We need to get going!”

Minho turned to the taller boy who was standing next to Jongho and nodded “Ready”

Woojin took a step forward, brushing his shoulder with Minho’s as a form of comfort. “Take care of him Mingi, he is our important member and friend...lord knows what Felix would do to me if I lost him on this mission.”

Mingi snorted playfully “I don’t know who that is, but as long as he can keep up we will be fine.” He then turned towards Jongho, placing two hands on his shoulders “Be safe little one.”

Minho almost laughed as he watched Jongho look up at the taller boy with a mildly annoyed face, “You know I can kick your ass right?” he asked the taller boy.

Mingi was unfazed as he waved a hand in the air. “Details Details” he said with a smile, motioning for Minho to follow him. If Jongho had heard his comment, the youngest made no notion of it, and turned back around, heading in his own direction.

As they ran further and further from the others he couldn’t help but shake a deep feeling of dread. Minho turned his gaze backwards to look at Woojin’s fleeting figure and he felt his heart tightening in his chest. Something didn’t didn’t feel right.

“Tch!” Minho growled to himself mentally “No. I won’t psych myself out this time!”

This was it. This was another chance to do good, and prove to himself that he CAN do what is needed to be done. No more hiding. No more cowardice. Minho had to make a difference here or his promise to Jeongwoo would be meaningless.

The two of them went on for a few minutes in complete silence, but eventually Minho could feel Mingi’s gaze on him and he turned his head slightly to glance back.

“What?” was all he asked.

“How new?” he asked.

Minho's eyes widened in confusion, turning to get a better look at the bigger boy “Excuse me?”

Mingi chuckled, his gaze turning back to the road in front of them “I mean how new are you to this harsh world of fighting?”

Minho felt his cheeks warm in embarrassment at the question, and he quickly looked at the ground in front of him, sheepish. “Is it that obvious?” he mewed quietly.

Mingi laughed louder this time, throwing two hands in the air in kindness “Not really.” he chuckled “I mean just the fact that you beat San shows you have skills.” He said encouragingly. “I just ask because your members treat you like you're fragile… something you only really do when you are new to this world.”

Minho nodded, trying to calm down from his mild dose of embarrassment. “You can say that again….” he mused.

Mingi smiled at him and gave him a toothy grin “Well the others might not say it, but just the fact that you are against The Order makes you a friend to me!”

Minho’s eyes widened and he nearly smiled at the boy’s pure words. “I thought The Under were neutral when it came to The Order…” He said with a puzzled look. ”You neither give them support but neither do you fight against them… isn’t that right?”

But the younger boy shrugged rather casually, “That is the standard” he explained “But it doesn’t necessarily mean we all agree with it. Hongjoong hyung...” Mingi trailed off, like he was contemplating saying his next words.

“Truthfully….” the taller boy continued more slowly “If it were up to Hongjoong Hyung… We would have liked nothing more than to go the surface, to make The Under more than just a lawless city, that in which is suffocating in the mud and dirt down here.” Mingi turned and gazed at Minho, with the first sense of intensity he caught all day “He wants a better future for the children born down here, something we didn’t get.”

Minho looked at him, pondering his words for a few seconds, and trying to understand the underlying problem. Suddenly Chan’s words flashed through his mind.

“ If we even wanted a chance at overthrowing The Order, then we needed allies. Strong allies at that... “

Minho looked towards Mingi, face pure and honest “If given the chance... Would you fight back? And I mean seriously fight back...”

Mingi gazed back at him, noticing the serious expression on his face, nodding once. “Aye.”

Minho felt a wave of weight being lifted from him and he gave Mingi an earnest smile “Then maybe one day we will.”

It fell into a comfortable silence after that, but Minho couldn’t help but smile now as they ran. This was his first real interaction with another member besides San, and it left him hopeful that they could work together in the future. If they were all like Mingi and Hongjoong that is…

But before he could romance the idea any further, Minho’s smile dropped as he began to hear yelling in the far distance. Screams began to fill his ears and Minho realized with a thump to his heart that they were finally reaching an area with people. As they rounded the corner his eyes widened wide with alarm at the sight of crowds of people rushing forwards, carrying their young ones and belongings as they pushed towards the center. There was no order to it. It was chaotic and messy.

Exactly what Zico wanted.

Minho looked to Mingi who was also looking at the sight with a grim expression on his face. No matter how you looked at it, just two of them controlling this crowd was nearly impossible. It wasn’t going to be easy whatsoever.

But they had to start somewhere.

Mingi rushed forward then, aiming towards a herd of people, easily outpacing them and stopping at the front of them with his arms stretched wide as a blockade. There were a few shocked gasps but also a few who recognized the young boy almost immediately.

“Mingi-ssi!?” Minho heard a voice from the mass call “What are you doing?! Why are you stopping us?!”

Mingi looked at the crowd, his face dead serious. “Despite what Zico said, protocol calls for all evacuations to take place in the southern bunker!” he tried to yell over the chaos “I’m going to have to ask you to turn the other way!”

Hushed murmurs ripped through the crowd and Minho perked his ears forward to listen.

“That's true…” a female voice said.

“But why would Zico send us to the center if it wasn’t the safest…”

“No matter what it looks like we have orders…”

“Well I trust our leader!”

Please, Please… Minho pleaded.

But Minho’s plea was crushed as the crowd began to push Mingi backwards, choosing to continue on their path. He watched as Mingi was quickly shoved to the side by the masses and he ran forward, pulling him back up as the crown sprinted forward and away from them.

“Mingi-ssi!” he called, helping the boy off from the ground. “Are you okay?”

“Tch!” he spat. “They are choosing to believe Zico over me!”

“Well” Minho reasoned “They don’t know about Zico so of course they still trust him…”

Mingi punched the ground in front of them, his anger rising “Dammit!” he cured “If only Hongjoong hyung was here...”

“Mingi-ssi?” a voice called.

Minho turned to see a taller, older man with worn out blond hair looking at him from across the rushing street. He quickly made his way over to them, holding out a hand to Mingi.

Mingi looked up, taking the older boy's hand, a tired smile on his face. “Inpyo hyung!” he cried “Thank god you are here!”

The one named Inpyo nodded, his face grim “Once the alarm sounded my boys and I set out to help with the evacuations but we are having a bit of difficulties” he admitted. He then turned towards Minho, eyes narrowing in mild interest “Who is this?”

Mingi waved a hand in the air, “This is Minho. He and his group are helping us. Minho-” he turned, waving a hand at the taller man “This is Inpyo. He and his team are one of the best of our police force down here.”

“- Was ” Inpyo corrected, holding out his hand to Minho in greeting “We all retired a few years back when we couldn’t stand by Zico any longer.”

Minho nodded in greeting, taking his hand for a quick shake “I don’t blame you..”

Inpyo smiled at that and took his hand away. “Mingi,” he asked, turning back towards the younger “Why would Zico have the city evacuate to the center of the city?”

Mingi shook his head “I can’t explain right now, but it is all wrong hyung, the center of the city is the focal point of what's to come, and we need to get everyone to get away from there. But no one is willing to listen to me...”

Inpyo placed a hand on his chin, deep in thought.

“Asking them to believe in someone else over their trusted leader is a bit much for most people....” Inpyo mused.

“I understand that” Mingi agreed “But we have to convince them somehow…”

They were all quiet as chaos erupted around them, trying to think of a plan. Suddenly a thought came to Minho’s mind and he looked up at them with wide eyes.

“Inpyo-ssi?” Minho asked “When you say you were one of the best, how much did the people of The Under trust you? Did you have their respect?”

The question caught the older man off guard for a second but quietly nodded “Ah.”

Mingi scoffed “Didn they respect him? They practically worshiped the ground they all walked on…”

“Then why not have Inpyo and his team tell everyone where to evacuate?”

“As much as they trust me Minho,” Inpyo started “I’m still asking them to go against Zico’s orders...most won’t be willin-”

Minho held a finger up in the air to interrupt “But what if we don’t tell them to go against his orders?”

Mingi tilted his head in confusion “Okay, now I’m lost”

But Inpyo seemed to understand what Minho was getting at and nodded once “We tell them something different. Something they would believe came from Zico himself...”

Minho smiled, a small bode of confidence sparking in him “Instead of telling them the evacuation site has changed, we tell them that the center bunker is too full and overflow needs to evacuate to the southern bunker.”

Mingi’s eyes widened in realization while Inpyo nodded “It might work, especially if it comes from our mouths.”

“Hyung” Mingi suddenly turned and looked at the elder boy “Where’s Jiahn and the others? Can you get in contact with him? Have them help?”

Inpyo nodded, pulling out a small phone “I scattered them all to various districts. But I can call them and update the plan. Jiahn should be in the center of the city right now...”

Minho looked at the elder boy, chewing his bottom lip in worry. “If I can ask Inpyo-ssi. One of my hyungs should be arriving in the center region any second now to help with the evacuation. Maybe your friend could meet up with him.”

Inpyo smiled softly and nodded, “Better as teams than opposing forces. Who is your friend?”

“It’s Woojin hyung” Mingi answered. Inpyo’s face widened in mild surprise and he looked at Mingi with curiosity in his eyes “Woojin? Woojin is in the same group as Minho. Wooyoung is in the North with another of their teammates and Jongho is in the Western quadrant.”

Inpyo eyed him with a mildly disappointed look “And Hongjoong? Where are the rest of your teammates Mingi?”

The taller boy shook his head “Not enough time hyung. Just know they are all doing their part in this. Please hyung….We could really use your help…”

Inpyo nodded looking at the two of them. “I’ll get in contact with my team. Don’t fret Mingi-ya. The Under won't die here is I have anything to say about it.”

They stayed quiet as Inpyo opened his small phone and quickly dialed a few numbers. There was a few more heartbeats of quiet as he put the device to his ear, but soon enough they heard a click and a muffled voice on the other line.

“Jiahn hyung-yes yes I'm okay. Listen, plans changed” he started “We were right. Something is fishy with the center evacuation. We need to evacuate them to the sou-oh?” he stopped midstence as the voice spoke to him and Minho watched as he nodded in response “I get it. You met Woojin already and he told you. Okay. Well tell the people that the center is full and Zico has ordered the overflow to the south. Can you pass the information to Isaac and Yeontae’s groups? Great Thank you. Tell them when their sections are done and they have done a sweep to report to the southern bunker.”

And like that, without even saying goodbye the elder boy quickly shut the phone and turned back to look at them.

“For trusting sake, Mingi keep Minho with you as you work your ways inwards. We have a lot of ground to cover and not a lot of time.”

Both boys nodded and stood up from the ground, pounding their feet on the ground as they began to run into the crowd. A familiar sense of dread suddenly filled Minho to his core and he swallowed hard, his heart beat racing.

Why did he feel like something terrible was about to happen?

#kpop au #stray kids #stray kids au #lee know #minho #han #jisung #minsung au #bang chan #chan #changbin #seungmin #hyunjin #jeongin #i.n #felix #maze of miroh

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