That was another one. Another of your team gone. It was a simple run, you didn’t see where it all started to go wrong, it was a perfectly simple plan! He was only seventeen… he was just a kid. His name was Robbie and he was a good kid. Stupid and naive, sure. But good nonetheless. Now it was time for you to go back to Alexandria to tell his mom and his sister that he got caught in a heard of walkers because he tried to be brave. You always hated that part. It didn’t happen very often, because you’d admit that you were a very good leader. But when it did, you always had to put your feelings aside and be totally deadpan about it. You couldn’t cry. You would never let yourself cry.
After leaving Robbie’s mother and sister to grieve, you headed home and opened one of the many beers that Abraham had given you a while back. You sat at your table and drank in silence. Your mind raced over the events of a few hours previous. How Robbie grabbed your hand and begged you to help him. How you knew you couldn’t, but you stayed anyway. You knew you should’ve just shot him and put him out of his misery, but you couldn’t do that, not to a kid.
When you’d made your way through another beer, you heard a knock at your front door. You let out an exasperated sigh and set down your beer as you headed over to see who it was at your doorstep. When you peeked through the draped on your door, you saw Daryl’s tall, muscular figure standing in the evening heat. You unlocked and opened the door and met his sympathetic gaze..
“Hey,” he said. “How you feelin’?”
“Oh, I’m great. Always feel fantastic whenever I lose someone.” You sighed sadly.
“Listen, it weren’t your fault.”
“Tell that to Robbie’s family, Daryl. See what they have to say. I’m sure they’d disagree.” You argued, thinking about the look on Robbie’s mother’s face when she found out.
“They probably would. But that don’t change anything. And if it makes you feel any better, I still think you’re one of the best people we got.” Daryl says softly, warming your heart a little. You notice that he glanced behind you and sees the beer bottles on your table and he suddenly had an idea.
“Look, I’ll be back soon, alright? I’ll stay with you for the night. I’m sleepin’ on your couch and there ain’t nothing you can do about it.” He smiled and walked away.
You were taken aback by Daryl being so forward. You’d never known him to be so confident with his words and gestures. He was always the stereotypical ‘strong, silent type’ that only spoke up when something was ridiculously important. You simply shrugged and wandered back to your beers.
Moments later, the door opened again and Daryl strolled into your kitchen with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a bottle of tequila in the other.
“If you’re gonna do this, you’re gonna do it right.” He told you as he set the bottles down in front of you.
“You’re getting me drunk?” You chuckled with a slight scoff.
“Pretty much.” He shrugs and sits down opposite you.
You gaze at him with uncertainty, confused as to why he’s suddenly so outgoing, but a little bit attracted by his new-found confidence.
“Okay, judging by the look on your face, you either want to kill me or have sex with me,” he jokes, snapping you out of your inappropriate train of thought. “Is this a bad idea?” He asked.
“I mean, you haven’t met drunk me, so I’m just worried for you.” You laughed, only half joking, knowing full well that you have no filter between your brain and your mouth when you’re intoxicated.
“See, now I’m just excited.”
And with those words, you both took swigs from each bottle.
By the end of the night, you had claimed the bottle of tequila as your own, leaving Daryl with the bottle of whiskey, which he had no problem with. The two of you had inched closer to one another as the hours ticked by, and now there was no more space left to eliminate.
You were giggling like a schoolgirl at Daryl’s comment about Rick being completely whipped by Michonne when you noticed something- Daryl was smiling.
“Y’know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile.” You slurred.
“Don’t get used to it.” He mumbled, drinking the last drop of Jack.
“Can’t really get used to anything these days.” You replied with a sad sigh.
“What do you miss? Y’know, from before.” Daryl asked.
You let out a brief laugh and threw your head back in amusement.
“Sex.” You answered honestly, immediately regretting it afterwards.
“Really? You haven’t gotten laid since-”
“Since what? The whole world went to shit? Pretty much.” You snickered.
After a few moments, you noticed him gazing at you as you took another shot.
“What? What’s that look for?” You giggled.
“I can uh… help you out, y’know.” Daryl proposed, surprising you into silence.
“I uh… wh-”
“What? You’re drunk, I’m drunk… lets make it happen.”
And with that, you hungrily crashed your lips into his, earning an animalistic growl from Daryl.
“This is a bad idea.” You groaned.
“The worst.” Daryl breathed, taking off your jacket.
“We shouldn’t do this.” You moaned as you bit at his bottom lip.
“Definitely not.” Daryl grabbed your hips and pulled you into his lap.
“Sex isn’t the answer.” You slid his vest down his toned arms.
“Never is.” He sloppily unbuttoned your shirt.
“We’re about to make a big mistake.” You hurriedly unbuckled his belt.
After unbuckling his belt you subconsciously licked your lips and Daryl smirked. He slipped your jeans off and ran his hands up your thighs, stopping just before your core. You looked him in the eyes and kissed him hungrily, the taste of alcohol mixing, whiskey and tequila, you and Daryl. It was pure passion, even if in a drunken state. You slipped your hand down his stomach and to his boxers, palming him through the fabric making him grunt. He wrapped your legs around his waist as he stood up and walked over to your lounge, and then pinned you onto the sofa and his hair fell around his face, making you giggle.
“You look like a girl!” You giggled but gasped as you felt pressure on your clit.
“I’m not the girl here Darlin’.” He drawled and rubbed your clit harder before stopping and taking his fingers back up. You weren’t sure if you would remember this in the morning but neither of you cared at the moment. You just wanted to fuck each others brains out. Daryl stood up and took his boxers off, slipping a condom on his rock hard member. You felt yourself getting wetter by just seeing his member, ready to be embraced by you. You stripped your panties and he came to you, not even warning you, just slamming inside you, making you scream out loud. He let you adjust and started grinding his hips carefully, making him grunt and you moan in pleasure. The sounds filling the house, the air growing hot and the alcohol pumping through your veins giving adrenaline.
“Faster… Daryl, oh my God!” You yelled and bucked your hips up to meet his and he did what you said and went maybe a little too fast. He started ramming into you and put a thumb on your clit, feeling your walls tighten around him.
“Jesus Christ, how has nobody fucked you this whole time? You’re so damn tight!” He hissed through gritted teeth and rammed one more time, making both of you explode, orgasming the hardest you ever had, even before the apocalypse. Daryl laid down next to you and you both fell asleep soon due to both of you being ridiculously exhausted.
You woke up to the sun shining into your eyes, sending shooting pains into your head, causing you to wince in pain, and you were about to get up when you felt a figure pressing against your back. Your head was throbbing really badly and you felt nauseous all over. As you put two and two together, you reminisced about the previous night. You and Daryl… oh shit. Oh… God! Why did you let yourself get so drunk!?
‘shit, he’s never going to look at me the same again!’ You thought.
You turned over and gently nudged Daryl in an attempt to wake him up. He grumbled as he opened his eyes, clearly not wanting to be disturbed. It only took a few seconds before the pain washed over him and he too remembered the events of the night before.
“Ugh, I feel like shit,” Daryl complained, burying his head into your pillows. “Sorry about last night.”
“Why? I had fun.” You smiled sheepishly, causing Daryl to look up at you.
“Yeah, I did.”
“Me too.” Daryl smirked a little and took hold of your hand.
“You’re not in any kind of rush to leave, are you?” You asked, your voice dripping with hope.
Daryl pressed a sudden kiss to your lips that answered your question for him. You were slightly taken aback at first, but it didn’t take you long to welcome it.
“I’ll take that as a no.” You giggled and the two of you spent the rest of the day in bed, holding each other and desperately attempting to get rid of the pain of your hangovers.
I am no tech geek, please don’t quote me on “hacking” terms. We pray to God that it’s believable and makes sense lol. Enjoy :)
Baekhyun dragged both you and Junmyeon into the board room
where it was quiet and empty, locking the door behind the three of you.
“Umm Baekhyun what are you doing?” You stuttered looking up
at Junmyeon with yours eyes wide.
“Shh.” Baekhyun frowned bringing his finger up to his lips.
“I’ve been busy hacking and bugging lately, nearly everything and everyone.
That’s why I’ve been acting strange and shifty because I’ve been occupied.
Look.” He slipped out his phone from his back pocket and held it up so you and
Junmyeon could read the screen. “I hacked into the showcasing companies main
system, just incase Luhan is more involved with them than we think, that’s
where I disappeared to earlier. However Luhan was always quite the tech genius
so it’s possible that he’s able to see through what I’ve done and break
whatever codes he needs to break.” He sighed exiting a web page and opening
another one up. “I also managed to bug internet access and codes of the house
and general text messaging services. So I have access to pretty much everyone’s
devices meaning I can keep on top of things. Junmyeon you really need to calm down
with those provocative texts to Yuna.” He winked at him lewdly.
Junmyeon’s mouth dropped open.
“Baekhyun those are private messages between me and my
Baekhyun scoffed at Junmyeon’s reaction and shook his head.
“Yeah well not anymore. Just think whenever your’e trying to
seduce Yuna you’re also seducing me. I must say Junmyeon you’re a man of many
great and saucy ideas. I’d love to try that new ‘game’ you suggested not too
long ago.” Baekhyun smirked. You felt sick, good knows what things he could
read in on between you and Minseok, because some of your messages were extremely
“Anyway.” Baekhyun continued. “We have a slight problem. So there’s this one
device in the house and I’m not exactly sure whom it belongs to, it must be an
extra phone. But it’s been bugged on their side. Almost as though they were
expecting me to keep tabs on them so they came prepared. It’s been making calls
and sending texts; but when I try and check the calls they are untraceable and the
messages show up blank. I can’t seem to crack the codes safeguarding them
either, they’re pretty strong. I’ve been trying to figure it out for a while
now but I’m still having no luck. Now the only explanations I have are that
there are two other tech geniuses in the house other than me; those being Sehun
and Chanyeol or my alternative explanation being thatLuhan helped to
safeguard someone’s phone. The last text sent from this phone was around ten
minutes ago, but obviously you know I can’t see what it says.” Baekhyun paused;
creases were setting above his brown bone due to confusion.
“It can’t be Sehun.” You shook your head and placed your
hands on your hips. “He was…talking to me.” You felt your stomach flip at the
half-lie that you had just let slip past your tongue and shuddered at the
thought of what Sehun had just tried on with you. That crazy idiot.
“So then Chanyeol.” Junmyeon raised a brow. “Actually no it
can’t be him he’s not here he wouldn’t have WiFi would he?”
“Well no he wouldn’t need WiFi for calling and texting.”
Baekhyun mumbled pinching his chin with his thumb and index finger. “So really
it’s a possibility.”
You felt your heart sink. Although you didn’t know whether or not you could forgive
Chanyeol for what he did you weren’t prepared to accept the fact that he was
the traitor and although Baekhyun did not 100% confirm it, it was beginning to
become painfully obvious that it was him besides nobody even knew his
“This has all been really carefully planned out.” Junmyeon
ran a hand through his hair as he closed his eyes. “Now I have to deal with
this on top of Senior and the showcase. Fantastic…”
“Oh you couldn’t get an extension?” Baekhyun asked with wide
eyes. You shook your head in response. “Look don’t worry Junmyeon you focus on
Senior and me and Y/N will handle this for now okay, but let’s keep it hush.”
“We will?” You pulled a face, why were you always being dragged
into things that you didn’t want to be involved in.
“Yes.” Baekhyun rolled his eyes at you. “We will.”
You had done what Baekhyun had said and kept quiet about the
phone in question this included keeping it from Minseok. It was time for dinner already and you were all crowded
around the dining room table. Sehun was sat directly opposite you, his gaze
piercing into the back of your skull so you kept your eyes trained down onto
“Junmyeon!” Jongin cried, throwing his hands up in the air. “Why
the fuck do you keep cooking broccoli, it’s making me sick.”
“Why do I hear you complaining? Shut up and eat.” Junmyeon
mumbled, shovelling a piece of broccoli into his own mouth. You all ate in
silence until you had finished every last morsel on your plate.
“So what’s going to be done about this showcasing event
then?” Kris asked stretching his hands forwards and making his bones click.
Junmyeon sighed in response.
“There’s nothing we can do. We’ve been defeated this time.”
He shrugged and stood up beginning to collect the plates on the table. You
looked to your side at Yuna who let out a really loud yawn.
“Gosh I’m so sorry.” She covered her mouth with her hand, eyes
glazed over. “I’m just really tired.”
“Hmm, so am I.” Baekhyun frowned “I thought I got a decent
amount of sleep in but maybe not. I’m off to bed.” You looked up at the clock.
It was only 6PM, even Ara was wide awake sitting on Kris’ lap.
“I think I’ll go to sleep too.” Yuna yawned, leaning forward
she kissed Junmyeon on the cheek and then rose from her seat to leave the room
with Baekhyun. You looked up and noticed that Sehun was still staring at you
intensely, but it was weird. It was almost as though he was frowning at you.
You were beginning to feel extremely uncomfortable so you got up from your
“Thanks for the dinner Junmyeon.” You called, not looking
back as you exited the kitchen, but you saw a dark tall shadow following you
down the corridor.
When you paused he paused. When you walked towards the board so did he and so
for some stupid reason you decided to run out into the garden, but of course
the tall male followed you. Unbeknownst to the both of you though Minseok was
watching, frowning from the kitchen doorway.
The grass outside was still wet from the storm and you almost slipped falling
face first but quickly regained your balance.
“For flip sake, will you learn how to be careful? You’re
really going to hurt that baby!” He hissed grabbing your wrist and helped to
steady you. You scowled at him grabbing your hand out of his hold and took a
step back, backing up into the tall brown wooden fence. “Why the fuck are you
avoiding me?” He hissed again looming over you and it was seriously intimidating.
“Why the fuck wouldn’t I be trying to avoid you Sehun!? I’m
your best friend’s wife and I’m carrying his child. You sick, sick man!”
“I’m aware of that.” He said to you coldly. You were so
confused, his face was still blank like it always was, like nothing had
happened and he didn’t kiss you. Why was he acting so clueless? Suddenly you
heard the garden door swing open. Looking over Sehun’s shoulder you saw Minseok
standing there, a frown painted across his face.
“What’s going on out here?”
Sehun ignored him as he rolled his eyes and stepped closer
“Get away from me you dirty rat!” You pushed hard on his
chest. Minseok came rushing over pulling Sehun back away from you.
“What the fuck is going on here, explain now!” Minseok
shouted at Sehun as he stood in front of you almost as though he were a shield.
“This sick bastard tried to kiss me. In fact he didn’t try,
he did it!” You pointed towards Sehun as you shrieked, your fingers were
shaking and you couldn’t keep your arm still. Minseok’s mouth dropped open as
he looked between you and Sehun, probably wondering if he heard you right or
waiting for you tell him it was a joke.
“You did what?…” Minseok breathed focusing only on Sehun
now. “You kissed Y/N…”
“Yes.” Sehun answered back confidently. He didn’t waver nor
did he flinch, his face was still blank as he looked between you and Minseok.
It was as though Minseok had just asked him if he’d eaten breakfast today or
whether or not he’d taken a shower. How could he be so confident in his answer?
“You what!” Minseok raged, his face growing red. You saw his
hands balling up, veins running down his arms. “You did what Oh Sehun!” He
threw a punch in the younger males face, landing directly on his lip blood
dribbling down the corner of Sehun’s mouth. “WHAT THE FUCK DID YOU DO TO MY
WIFE!” He grabbed Sehun’s head downwards and brought his knee up, connecting with
“Get the fuck off of me Minseok!” He pushed the smaller man
backwards. But Minseok charged for him again both of them slipping on the wet
grass. You didn’t know what to do; you couldn’t call the others and have them
know what was going on.
“First you wanted to get rid of her, now you’re making a move on
her. Are you crazy?” Minseok growled punching Sehun in the sides.
“Get off Minseok!” Sehun shouted again pushing Minseok off
of his body. He stood up holding a hand to his bleeding mouth and spat onto the
grass. “I don’t love your wife. Shit Minseok! Don’t go attacking me like that.”
Your mouth was still open, surely by this time you had caught some flies. Was
this man being serious? “If anything I still borderline hate her I’m just
“So why the fuck did you do it Sehun! And you better give me
a good explanation or I’m going inside to get a gun.” Minseok’s chest was
heaving up and down and his hands were still balled up into fists ready to
fight, adrenaline coursing through his veins.
“Because I’m trying to do everything that you would do to
her, damn it Min! I thought that was okay. Shit!” Sehun barked, trying to catch
his breath back as he rubbed his chest where Minseok had hit him. He looked up
at you angrily as he continued to speak. “She was frickin’ crying in my room
about this baby, and I thought to myself ‘what would Minseok do to calm her
down’ I’m your best friend and I’m trying to look out for your blasted family.
Do you really think I’d go for her?”
You eyes opened wide in shock along with Minseok who was shaking
“No Sehun! No! You got it so wrong; you’re not supposed to
go around and do things like that. That’s NOT
You were still staring at Sehun; you thought he was fabricating some sort of
story to save his own ass. But he wasn’t. His face was still blank and he was
still clueless as to why the both of you were mad. He genuinely thought what he
was doing was a good thing. You sighed in disbelief, how mentally messed up was
he to think that that was okay.
Sehun piped up again, beginning to fight his corner and you
were really hoping that none of the men from inside could hear all of the
commotion going on.
“I did what you would have done! Why was I wrong? I’m trying
to be like you why the fuck are you shouting at me.” He looked over at you
again. “I tried to comfort you didn’t I? Didn’t I?!”
“Shit Sehun you’re a grown man now you need to be able to
distinguish what’s acceptable and what’s not. You’re not a kid anymore. You can’t
go around kissing my wife because I do it, suppose she kissed you back. How far
would you have gone?”
“As far as you would’ve gone Minseok…” He frowned, looking
up at his best friend seriously confused as to why he was being shouted at. “I’m
supposed to be there for her when you can’t be isn’t that what you made me
promise you when you got married. I would’ve gone as far as she needed me to.”
And it was at that point you started to feel a little sick. Sehun’s idea of
walking in Minseok’s shadow was so much more extreme than you thought it was
initially, it was as though he was aspiring to be his carbon copy. “Listen
Minseok, I’m just trying to repay you for everything you’ve done for me. There
was no romantic feeling in what I did, in fact doing it made me feel sick but I
“No Sehun don’t you see this is taking it too far.” Minseok
interrupted, he was mostly calm now but there was an alarming look of worry on
his face as he stared at Sehun. “We should call Babu Sehun. I think you need
Sehun frown taking a step back as though Minseok had just slapped him across
“Woah, why are you going this far Minseok. I already told
you I was only trying to help. I’ll just stop from now on there’s no need to get Kyungsoo’s brother involved.”
“No Sehun, this is too much you’re so far gone –”
“WE’RE ALL FAR GONE MINSEOK!” Sehun screeched taking strides
backwards, creating a bigger gap between the three of you. “I was just trying
to fucking help! If you don’t want shit like this to happen then maybe you
should be there for your pregnant wife when she needs you!” He screamed turning
around. He ran back inside the house leaving you and Minseok standing in the
garden in silence.
The sparkly purple notebook was almost always kept in a safe spot, tucked away under El’s mattress and taken out at the end of each day so that she could record, in increasingly neat and loopy handwriting, the events that had occurred since morning. In a pink or green gel pen, gifts from Nancy, El ensured that every happy detail of her life was pressed onto the page with love, preserved in writing. She had so many terrible memories and although better ones were quickly accumulating and El refused to risk forgetting a single good day.
The pages of her diary were filled with amusing anecdotes about her friends: Max trying to teach Lucas and Dustin to do cartwheels, Steve and Nancy taking her and Max to watch planes take off from the airport, going to the park with Lucas to play baseball, learning how to play hopscotch with Holly and Mike.
There were stories about her new family as well: Jim really, honestly trying to make snickerdoodles but forgetting the sugar, Jonathan teaching her how to make pancakes, folding and painting paper airplanes with Will, dancing in the living room hand-in-hand with Joyce.
But most the pages were inked with detailed memories of Mike: the way his freckled cheeks turned bright red whenever she pressed her lips to them, the way he traced pictures on the back of her shirt while they watched movies in the Wheeler’s basement, his familiar and comfortable smell (bubblegum, lavender fabric softener, and—ever so faintly—chocolate chip cookies), and his height—perfect for the piggyback rides she was consistently offered.
It was a rainy Sunday morning when Mike, with his freckled cheeks and familiar smell, appeared on the Hoppers’ doorstep, soaked to the bone but with a beaming smile on his face. He would insist, for the remainder of his life, that no rainy day was so gloomy as to dampen spending time with El.
On that day, Jim—leaving his adopted daughter in charge of the bacon bubbling on the stove—retrieved Mike a dry pair of pants and a sweater—several sizes too big, despite being from his younger, fitter days. Ushered into El’s bedroom to change, the door closed behind him, Mike caught sight of the small purple book that had been carefully placed on El’s night table. She had, unknown to him, left it out the night before. Mike contemplated the book for a long moment before picking it up and gently opening its front cover.
That evening El returned to her room, eager to commit her day of movies and board games with Mike and Jim to the familiar lined pages of her journal. She slid a hand deftly under her mattress, fingers groping for an item that wasn’t there. With some confusion, El glanced around her room, her eyes finally falling on the book, placed atop her pillow. She remembered, all at once, that she had not left it there herself.
Eyes wide, El carefully opened the book to the very last page she had written on. Immediately, on the opposite page, her gaze was drawn to Mike’s messy and unmistakable scrawl. As El read his words, her heart fluttered, a smile growing on her lips.
Hi El! I didn’t read anything, but I wanted to tell you again that I love you. You’re so perfect. From Mike.
Have some Cherik Emma AU, in which Charles has invested a great deal of time in (successfully) getting Raven excited for the attentions of the respectable Mr. Azazel, a much better match for her than bumpkin country doctor Henry McCoy, only to find that he might have miscalculated somewhat.
A lightly alpha/omega universe, mostly because much of Regency culture stops making sense without strict gender divides of some sort.
Charles wasn’t sure how he’d
ended up alone in a carriage with Mr. Azazel; it was quite improper for him to
ride unsupervised in the company of an unattached alpha. He could only blame
the chaotic shuffling about as they all hurried to leave the party before the
snow trapped them there. Charles longed for solitude, but that being
impossible, he would have chosen to ride in a more crowded carriage rather than
find himself here. He could not be entirely comfortable in Mr. Azazel’s company
after the man’s bizarre and uncharacteristic behavior tonight. How could the
man be so uncaring toward the welfare of one whom he was courting? Not that he
had done anything to harm Raven, of course—Raven was not here to be harmed—but
that was the very problem. Raven was sick at home, and Mr. Azazel had not
appeared to care at all.
“What a lovely party,”
Charles said, and, making one last effort to let Mr. Azazel return to normal,
added, “It is such a shame Miss Darkholme could not attend.”
“I would have been sorry if
she had,” Mr. Azazel said. “Doubtless she would have ridden next to
you, Mr. Xavier, and then we could not have had this time alone.
Charles stared in utter horror at
this singular pronouncement. Mr. Azazel, perhaps mistaking his silence for some
more pleasant form of surprise, took the liberty—Charles could not believe he took the liberty—of leaving his
seat to settle himself next to Charles on the other side of the carriage.
A/N: This was a commission for the absolutely fantastic @jaidynspaghetti (Who also basically beta’d the fic as well) !!! I’m still doing half off commissions ($5 per 1k words) , so shoot me a message or an ask if you’re interested. <3 This is one of the more fun things I’ve written lately.
Dan walked through the front door of the apartment and dove face first onto the couch. He sighed with relief as he relished in the comfort of being home again instead of outside in the miserable Los Angeles sun. Barry groaned as he closed the door behind them, seeing the gangly man sprawled out across the living room furniture.
“Come on Dan, we talked about this.” He protested, grabbing Dan by the ankle, “I have company coming over soon. Deflate somewhere else.” Dan made some noncommittal noise and allowed himself to be dragged onto the floor, where he continued to will himself into becoming a human pancake. He actually had forgotten that Barry told him that he had company coming over, but he wasn’t entirely sold on the idea of getting up and moving quite yet.
The doorbell rang and Barry cursed, dropping Dan’s legs with a heavy thump. Dan had managed to defeat him for now, but he would get him back later. Barry rushed to get the door, grinning as he swung the door open for you and your two friends.
A/N: Hey guys! Sorry for being so quiet this whole week, but I finally got another request finished up for you all. This ones with Teen!Sam, maybe slightly older to fit in with the fic as was requested, and lil’ Nate makes an appearance too so yay for that! Anyways, thank you so much for requesting and I hope you will like it.
I’m not sure how long this story will run. Basically until my love of Batjokes dies down. lol This won’t be like a traditional story, more a series of drabbles that flow in chronological order but don’t have a big arc going. I mean, things will develop, but not the way they do in novels. Anyway, this one was inspired by a headcanon I saw on tumblr.
Plot: Killian is a single father, and his daughter is enrolled in Emma’s dance class. He has nobody to watch his daughter after class, and he’s often late, so Emma usually sits and talks to the girl until she is collected from the dance school.
As they rode the journey to Emma’s apartment, in the back of the taxi, the tension between them was so intense, Emma felt as though she could easily slice through it with a knife. The driver continued to glance at them through his rear-view mirror, ensuring they weren’t getting too hot and heavy in his back seat, and making a mess of his Scotch guard. He was the kind of the driver who would toss them out for a little spot of heavy petting; an old-school guy, from the Bronx or Manhattan, or Queens, at least that’s what had been derived from his accent.
Emma stared out of the window at her side, watching as the city whizzed by in a blur of lights and streaks of outlines. She could barely make out anything, the city she knew so well, and none of it was making sense to her in that moment. There were thoughts coursing through her mind at a mile a minute, almost as quickly as the city outside the cab. She made the mistake of glancing across at Killian; their eyes met, sparkling with the passing city lights, but focused only on one another.
Description: When Stiles’ phone buzzed and lit up with the image of Lydia with two chopsticks in her mouth, he answered immediately. “I thought I told you you can’t keep calling me up for meaningless, mind blowing sex, Lydia”.
@mannatgalhotra requested steve rogers Fluff. I got a little carried away but I hope you enjoy.
The events in Germany got out of hand. The avengers knew that, everybody knew that. Steve had lost all those who followed him, all those who believed he was doing the right thing. They fought with passion and a strength he always admired, they risked everything for him. What a way to repay them, to let them suffer and dwell in a prison cell. Steve had too much compassion and pride to allow his team mates, his friends, to live like that.
Alarms rang through the building and black clad bodies were scattered across the floor, leading a path to where they were.
‘Sam’ Steve called. ‘I never thought I’d be happy to see your face’ he chuckled as the glass separating him from his friend slid out the way.
‘likewise Rogers’ Sam chuckled, embracing his friend.
‘Thats all very touching but..a little help’. The men turned to see a rather grumpy and irritable Scott waiting to be released from his cell.
‘I’ll get Lang, go help the others’ Sam nodded towards the other cells and Steve walked towards the nearest one. Wanda. However, she didn’t look like a child anymore, she looked terrifying. Her neck incased in a shocker gave her a look of danger, it didn’t suit her.
Steve quickly broke the glass and released her from her restraints. However, before he had the chance to fuss over her she told him to hurry. Steve, confused, stopped what he was doing.
‘You need to get Y/N quickly! I don’t know how much longer Clint can keep her calm.’Steve didn’t need telling twice, whether it was the sudden urgency to Wanda’s panicked voice or his desperation and longing to see Y/N again, he wasn’t sure but he soon found himself sprinting further down the corridor.
Then he heard it. A scream. Y/N screaming.
‘Steve, hurry!’ he heard Clint’s voice ‘She’s in distress, they’ve shocked her God knows how many times, I’m not sure how many more she can take. I’ve been trying to calm her’
Steve finally reached the end of the corridor where he saw Clint pressed up against the glass of his cell, looking anxiously towards the cell opposite. Steve gaze turned quickly to the cell where he was met with the sight of a small Y/H/C girl slumped on the ground. She looked pained and worn out. Her hands and ankles were cuffed and a shock collar had been placed on her as well, just like Wanda. Steve could see the desperation the woman must have had to break out of her restraints; bruises scattered her arms, legs and neck and dents scattered the walls and glass where her powers had lost control. Burns also could be detected along her neck where the collar had shocked her in an attempt to withhold her strength.
The girl screamed as another shock hit her body, causing her to writhe in pain.
‘Y/N!’ Steve screamed as he smashed the glass to get to her. ‘I’ve got you, I’ve got you’ he repeated in an attempt to calm her and reassure himself. He quickly removed her restraints and laid her down on the floor. ‘You’re safe now, they can’t hurt you anymore’
The girl clung to Steve as a wave of energy fired from her arms and dented the metal walls further. The girl clung to Steve’s sleeve tighter before loosening as her arm fell slack and she passed out.
Steve grabbed her before her head hit the floor and picked her up, turning to see the others now free from their cells.
‘Let’s go’ he said as he led them towards the exit where a quinjet was waiting.
‘Wanda, will she be alright’ Steve asked as he placed her down on a stretcher in the Jet, Clint already heading to the cockpit.
‘Yes, she’s just tired from the lack of energy, we just need to treat these burns and bruises and let her wake naturally’ Wanda replied with reassurance, already treating Y/N’s wounds.
As the flight dragged on, Steve became more anxious. He desperately wanted the girl before him to awaken, he never left her side and gripped her hand tightly. Steve rarely showed this side to him but in the circumstances, he didn’t care.
Eventually the girls eyes fluttered open and her small, soft fingers twitched in his much larger calloused hands.
‘Steve’ she breathed, turning her head towards the man beside her. She winced as the movement of her neck cause sharp stings through her body.
‘Shh’ he murmured, smoothing her hair away from her face.
‘You came, y..you came for us..’
‘Its alright, shhh, relax.’ Steve whispered ‘Of course I came, I could never leave you like that. You mean everything to me’ He slowly leaned down and kissed her forehead.
‘I love you’
Steve looked surprised. He felt a mixture of happiness yet shock overwhelm him.
‘I love you too Y/N’ he smiled, leaning down and capturing her lips with his. Her eyes slowly dropped shut and she succumbed to sleep again. Steve stayed with her and found himself tracing small soft circles on the back of her hand.
*2 weeks later*
Y/N heard big light steps patter towards her before feeling the bed dip beside her. A muscular arm curved around her waist, bringing her closer towards a large, warm body. A feather light kiss brushed against her hair, and then her neck.
‘Its time to get up ‘Y/N’ a low voice breathed into her ear.
Y’N snuggled closer into the body, closing her eyes tighter then before, groaning in defeat.
‘No’ she whined
Steve chuckled, causing the bed to shake slightly. He kissed her forehead before throwing the covers of off the woman. The cold air hit her and she snuggled closer to him.
‘You shouldn’t have spent the whole night up in the lab working, we have to go because you need to train’ he urged, picking her off the bed and towards the bathroom, wrapping her in a towel whited caused her to laugh. ‘Shower and then I’ll meet you downstairs’ he said, kissing her gently on the nose.
‘Fine’ she gave in, yawning. She reached up and kissed him sweetly. He brought his hand up and brushed her hair behind her ear.
‘I love you’ he grinned down at her ‘But the labs don’t need your brain today, the training room needs your muscles’
She groaned again, pushing the laughing super soldier out the door.
Alfred stood in front of the doorstep of the unsavoury-looking bar for longer than was necessary, his coat wrapped tightly around him in an attempt to ward off the nippy late-night Gotham air. Neon lights flashed in a blinding red across his vision, rubbish and broken bottles scattered about the entrance, the sound of drunken revelries floating by him as a large group stumbled outside. Alfred followed them with his eyes as they passed, frowning.
Not in a judgemental way. Merely… disapproving.
Turning back to the door, he sighed, as if even having to look at the place was a burden. One would think he was lamenting the very existence of venues that served alcoholic drinks, but in reality he was simply lamenting the existence of this particular one.
In fact, to Alfred Pennyworth, the existence of most of the bars in Gotham City was an abomination, as his mind would too often wander to the cosy countryside pubs he remembered from his younger days in England. Roaring fires, hearty, intellectual conversation over pints of beer, quiet, enigmatic strangers reading a book in the corner, the bartender smiling as a rather tipsy chat carried on about this year’s harvest or local politics.
But there was nothing to it. He had to go in.
Alfred grimaced as he took a hold of the sticky door handle, and immediately regretted not bringing his gloves. But he had left in a rush as this was a semi-emergency. Truthfully, he didn’t actually know what this was. But he was about to find out.
Warily, he pulled the door open and stepped into the dim, musty bar.
Running. Full speed, adrenaline filled running. Of course, of course he had to park miles away from the hospital’s waiting room. He deserves it, to say the least, but why now? Why couldn’t karma hit him later, with something, someone else besides how much longer it would have to be until he sees her again. His surroundings were a blur, not being able to think straight. He has never been so desperate in his life. Only God knows what’s wrong with her, and—oh God—how much he needs to know she’s okay. It’s killing him. “Come on, come on, come on.” Harry mumbles, shaking, scrambling hands trying desperately to open the hospital doors. Come on. “Y/n Y/l/n. I need to see Y/n Y/l/n.” He rushes out, taking large steps into the hospital, breathing so harsh he breaths out the words besides speaking them. The woman at the front desk nods softly as she types in her name. She does a little bit of reading before speaking to him. “She is currently being tested. Just take a seat in the waiting room, please.” “Thank you.” He looks to his left, where only a couple of families are waiting for their loved one’s information. He settles in the seat closest to the hallway, so that it is easier to notice a nurse if one ever comes his way. He looks around him. Beige walls closing in on him, the top of the walls lined by flower wallpaper, windows giving the walls a small glare from the cars driving by. Why is he here now? Now? When they are both so young, so naive to the world around them? Why now, when they aren’t even engaged, but yet already feel married? Why now, when he’s still learning the difference between what’s his and what’s okay? Why now? “Harry?” a voice asks, paper bag rolled in his hands. “It’s Caspar. Management called me to tell Y/n she can’t do the movie if—" He stops. He can see Harry’s body tensing. That man, that body, absolutely bare on top of his girlfriend in a room full of cameras. His worst enemy, his worst fucking nightmare, sitting to wait for Y/n as if he means as much to her as Harry does. “Harry, I know you saw th—“ Harry’s face scrunches in disgust, turning his face to the side, as if preventing even his breath to be anywhere near him. “Don’t say my name.” Caspar nods, his line pursing into a straight line. He cautiously sits to the seat next to Harry, leg bouncing up and down once he takes his place. Caspar picks at his hang nail as Harry grips the arms of the chairs, restraining the beast that had hurt Y/n. The silence is violent, there is no distraction to divert his attention away from his anger. Every second it seems to get harder to restrain himself from pounding his fist into Caspar’s face. How could a man touch Y/n like that without him knowing first? What type of man? Caspar sighs, placing the palms of each hand on his knees, rubbing the sweat from the surface of his skin. “Look, I didn’t know about the sex scene. I really had no idea. No one really did. The director said it would be a good add in for the movie, said it would create a better relationship for the film. It was spontaneous.” He explains. Harry remains silent, body slumped forward, defeat with the situation. His hands are still gripped harshly on the arms, gaze still opposite of Caspar’s body. He has no strength to look at him, not one bit. Caspar still doesn’t look up, eyes still remained on the skin he picks in order to calm his nerves. “I don’t blame you, you know, for being upset about it. Hell, if I saw another man touch my husband the way I had to touch Y/n, I’d flip shit.” Harry’s eyes widen when he finishes. “I don’t even know what I’d do. But I know for a fact I would not take it out on my husband. Never in a billion years. I know he’d never do that to me purposely.” Harry can feel his emotions take control of him again, the guilt knocking down his walls. Breathing rugged, chest falling up and down like a machine. His Y/n, his beautiful, perfect Y/n, was probably scared for her life because of him. So scared, so, unbelievably vulnerable because the man who’s supposed to take care of her looked at her like a piece of prey, something to tear apart without question. That fear she had to have had, that fear. “I didn’t mean—I didn’t—“ he sobs, shoulders shaking and chest tightening. He lifts his hands up to his face, the heels of his palms pressing against his eyes, trying desperately to rid the images of her unconscious body, but he doesn’t seem to stop them. “I know, man” Casper mumbles, patting Harry’s shoulder “I know.” “I’m horrible. So fucking horrible. I deserve every hour in Hell for what I’ve done.” He growls. Casper shakes his head viciously. “No, man. No. This stuff happens, it’s alright. It was a mistake. It’s alright.” “I’m so horrible.” He whispers, eyes fixed on the lights that are glaring on the wall. Each one reminding him how fast something so peaceful can leave so quickly. “Mr. Styles?” a soft voice calls not too long after, instantly tearing Harry away from his state of mind. “Yes, ma’am, that’s me.” He sniffled, standing up from his seat to approach the nurse. The lady smiles softly before looking down at her paper work. “Y/n is in stable condition. She is not in any level of a coma, but still is unconscious as of right now, however, she should be waking up within the next hour or two. She had to get stitches placed, but besides that, she is absolutely perfect.” He releases a breath he was holding in, the shaking of his hands calming into complete stillness. His entire world seems to be lifting up from the hell it was burning in before. “Thank God, can I see her? Please, can I see her?” He asks desperately, eyes wide with plea. “Of course. Follow me.” The nurse smiles. Caspar grabs Harry’s shoulder before he can even take his second step. “Go get your girl, Harry. Tell her how sorry you are.” He nods, eyes fixed in his as he gives him a small smile. “Of course.” The nurse leads Harry to where Y/n is kept, wires and unknown substances injecting into her blood as she sleeps peacefully on the bed. His beautiful, beautiful Y/n. He walks timidly to her, movements delicate, as if nervous he will disturb her. Grabbing the chair supplied in the room, he pulls himself as close as he can to her. Once settled, he grabs her hand gently in his, wrapping his fingers to the back of her hand. “My love” He whispers, “I’m so sorry.” He isn’t expecting an answer, but he is willing to do anything to apologize to her. He wants to be closer to her, feel her, touch her like he had before. It would kill him if he doesn’t. “I need you so bad.” he whispers, sobbing quietly. “I’m so sorry this happened to you, my love. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault. i’m horrible, a horrible monster. Y/n, I’m so sorry.” Harry lets go of her hand, rubbing the sheet down so that it’s flattened against her lap. He quickly kisses her knee before placing his head there. Legs on top of the chair, hand in hers, head on her legs, this is how he is most comfortable; how he is always most comfortable. In her pure comforting, secure hold. “You don’t deserve me” he chokes out, gaze stuck to the window. “I love you, God, I love you has much as anyone should. I love you so much that I hurt you. Nobody deserves that, nobody.” He has to take a break to restrain himself, tongue licking his lips and eyes closed gently, trying so hard to contain the pain that’s controlling him. “If I had the strength to leave you now, I would. But I’m so selfish, so, so selfish. Which is why you’re here in the first place, because I’m a fucking selfish prick. I’m the worst one yet.” He looks down at their intertwined hands. Gripping harder, he plants a small, delicate kiss on each of her fingers. He holds the back of her hand up to his chest, hugging her arm closer to him, nose buried in her skin as he inhales her sweet, sweet scent. “I’m sorry.“
A/N: I’m back againn! I’m so overwhelmed by the amount of love my first fic got, it was so humbling and I can only hope the support will continue because otherwise I’m shit outta luck ;) But anyways, enjoy this new one! Also, creds to @whyarentyoulaughingj for helping me with the title, I was so stuck and I stg, you’re the sweetest and kindest soul, I love you already x.
Warning(s): Swearing, mild/flat-out smut (depends on your imagination)
Word count: 1,381
Pairing(s): Joker x Reader / Joker x OC (Original Character)
The sound of heels clicking against the cool, stone tiles of the infamous Arkham Asylum bounced off of the walls, combining with the noise of desperate calls of the criminals convicted and locked in heavily guarded cells. Freshly painted fingernails tapped against the hard wood of her clipboard, eventually stopping outside an intimidating metal door that read, “JOKER”, with two fibrous, armed security men either side. An innocent smile appeared on her face, switching her warm, glistening eyes from each guard.
“Good morning, boys,” her voice smooth and light.
A nod came from each as a greeting, one of them reaching to turn the rigid wheel and she watches the metal door slide open. Her demeanour changed drastically once the vibrantly haired man in a white straitjacket, with his head down, was in her view.
She shook her head, ridding her face of any fallen strays of hair before sauntering in confidently, her eyes glazing over with a cold, intense gaze. The room consisted of a single stainless steel table with black plastic chairs either end of it - the psychopath already seated in one as she took her place in the other. The walls painted white and kept in a pristine condition with a high window on one side, letting in a harsh sunlight which illuminated the floor.
“How are you today, Mr. Joker?” she inquired.
A low growl erupted from the man sat opposite her, his gaze shifting from his feet to her eyes before he rolled his neck. A sort of tick the psychiatrist had noticed early on in their hour-long sessions every week.
“Still calling me by my full name, Doctor?” the unsettling smile he had been known for slowly spread across his face as he asked the question.
“Mr. Joker, I will continue to call you by your full name for as long as our sessions last. We are not acquainted and never will be. This is strictly a doctor-patient relationship” her voice was firm and monotone, and as she spoke, she scribbled something on her clipboard.
“Oh, you’ve been saying that for too long, Doctor,” his smile dropped, a look of possession seemed to take over his pale face before he continued. “What makes you think you won’t give in next week?”
She returned his glare with a cool gaze as she pushed her glasses up with her forefinger. Clasping her hands together in front of her, she leant her elbows on the table.
“And what makes you think it won’t be the same answer?” She reiterated his choice of words before she swiftly moved on, not giving him a chance to retaliate. “Now, I’ve heard you haven’t been on your best behaviour, Mr. Joker, am I correct?”
The constrained man leant back in his chair and rolled his eyes, gritting his teeth which showed his abnormal metal grill. This was also another thing she noticed quickly at the beginning of the visits, her curiosity almost getting the better of her each time as she had to choke back the query of ‘what happened?’.
Hearing no reply from the obviously irritated gentleman, she persisted onwards, “Harassment of a prison guard in order to release you. Mentally abusing a medic in order to avoid getting injected. Seducing a fellow psychiatrist. Doctor Harleen Quinzel,” she flicked through multiple pieces of paper, reading the list of felonies committed, “If you’re thinking doing all of this will help you escape, you thought wrong.”
Her guarded body language and her sharp tongue managed to spark something inside of the deranged man, igniting a fire which rewired his thoughts to make the psychiatrist his, the only thing he could focus on.
He wasn’t used to women being so disinterested. Having closed legs when he walked into a room…
In a sudden movement, the man was on his feet, stalking around the table like a bird of prey until eventually standing right next to his therapist. Her chair was pushed backwards as she rose to her feet, turning sideways and meeting his stone cold gaze with fiery and phlegmatic eyes.
“You thought I was trying to escape?” he tsked and slowly inched forward, resulting in her subconsciously stepping backwards until her back hit the white wall of the boxed room.
“The evidence says it all, Mr. Joker”, innocence slipping out subtly in her voice but was quickly replaced with an extended posture, though her head inclining slightly meant both their faces ended up within close proximity of each other.
A sly smirk was painted on his red lips. He leant in further, pausing when the tip of his nose touched hers. Closing her eyes, she tried to steady her breathing - she felt confused and vulnerable; he had never done this before.
“Are you afraid of me, Doctor?” his voice now low, gravelly and dangerous, “Do I make you… nervous?”
She swallowed the lump forming in her throat and she re-opened her eyes, staring straight into the pools of insanity that were his eyes before she voiced her answer.
“Our session is over.” She pushed his body to the side, grabbing her clipboard and strut out of that godforsaken room, wiping the beads of sweat off of her forehead with the back of her shaking hand.
The ringing of the alarm system permeated the air as every trained, and armed, security guard marched through the echoing halls of the distressed asylum. A sense of panic was overpowering the run-down building whilst the muffled sounds of moans arose from a locked janitors closet.
“Shit, J,” a quiet sigh of pleasure slipped from the psychiatrist’s lips as her patient, her secret lover, thrust into her. “You know they’re going insane trying to find you, right?”
A breathless chuckle came from the man she had once despised before a rich groan resounded, “Let them look, doll, I’m not gonna stop.”
He shifted his hips, making him plunge deeper at a new angle into the woman he had pressed against the wall. A high-pitched moan rang out in response.
“Never said I wanted you to,” she bit her lip, feeling the all-too-familiar knot forming in her stomach from the multiple times they had shared the experience together every week, “I’m gonna cum, J”.
“Not until Daddy tells you to, understand?”
She shut her eyes tightly, trying to control her forthcoming release. She leant forward and pressed her lips against his, and the two shared their desire with each other in a passionate kiss as he continued to pound into her.
“Cum inside me, Daddy, I’ll make you feel so good,” she tried her hand at dirty-talking to tip him over the edge, turning both of them on significantly and sending them closer to the end. “J, please, I can’t take it anymore, make me cum”.
He rocked his body into her rhythmically, pumping a few more times before he felt her letting go, walls clenching around him.
Feeling the contractions as they shot through his body, he groaned loudly in immense pleasure.
“Fuck, baby”. He released inside the woman who was supposed to be his doctor, filling her with his cum.
The only sound that filled the stuffy closet now was their heavy breathing that was exchanged between them as the high they both has just endured began to fade gradually. He pecked her on the lips before pulling out, then, in an attempt to find his strewn clothes on the floor, he crouched down and started to feel his way along the floor. In the meantime, she had already found her, rather tight-fitting, dress and white coat and admired the man’s tattooed torso and flexed muscles from the other side of the room.
“You better get back, J. Everyone’s panicking and we don’t want you getting punished any further, do we?” she paced herself towards the now dressed madman, giving him a smile and a kiss.
“I have a plan, doll; don’t you worry your pretty little head about that”, a sinister grin stretched across the handsome man’s face, confusing the therapist looking up at him.
His feet carry him to the door, leaving her perplexed and standing in the middle of the small space, that now had a pungent smell of sex, as he pushed it open,
processing aspects of the witnessing (vs. consuming) gaze wrt lesbian desire.
there’s this thing for me about femme–I’m not gonna say it’s about femme holistically, because no, I don’t think femme is about high standards of femininity or makeup or beauty tips, let’s clear that up right now. but this is certainly one element of femme & one thing that femmes may participate in or experience–so you might relate to this. in embracing a certain kind of glam femme, high femme, performance femme–for me, it’s all about acknowledging the construction. it’s not just that I’ve read too much gender theory–I really do think that certain aspects of femme have always been this way: reappropriating femininity, taking what we find useful & then tossing the rest. this is the kind of play that has shaped the theory. it has always existed. it has so much to do with the ways we are looked at & the ways in which we are desired. women don’t look at other women the way that men do. men don’t want to see all that, they don’t want to see the construction–they just want the “finished product.” they don’t want to acknowledge all that went into it. they don’t want to witness, they want to consume. it is about power. it is about control. this kind of gaze is oppositional to the way that women view other women.
I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently, one time, specifically, though I have danced this dance many, many times… this dance. me getting ready. butch girl slack-jawed watching my process, gazing in awe of the construction. acknowledging the intentionality behind it, revering it. me, shooing her out of the bathroom, playfully telling her to stop gaping & that I will be ready soon enough. for those who desire femmes, witnessing that construction & paying respect to it is part of of their desire.
maybe the outcome is the same. maybe I really do just end up looking like a gender-conforming straight girl (I doubt it). I’m not ever one to pretend that makeup & fashion choices are revolutionary. but I want to acknowledge that process is different–the social scripts are different. & what I look like is not the point. not everything is about revolution. this is about play–it can be. it should be. it’s about how we relate to one another. it’s acknowledging that as women who desire other women, our social worlds are different. the way we relate to one another is different. the way we interact in gendered terms is different. our gaze is different. our desire is different–it is our own.
our gaze is our own. it is internal, self-referential, reciprocal, hesitant, careful, bold… it so multi-faceted & so nuanced that we can barely even scratch the surface of what it is. it is incredible to behold.
“Uh, hey,” Severus murmured as he opened the compartment door, gazing at his best friend. Well… whatever they were now.
“Do you mind if I keep you company? I remember you told me that we both needed to make an effort. I don’t want it to be awkward,” he sighed, leaning his head against the compartment frame.
Severus had delivered a fatal blow to their friendship just a year prior. He’d called her the ‘M’ word, as he so affectionately referred to it. She’d been right to cut him out, he didn’t blame her, but it didn’t stop the heartbreak he felt. They’d been friends from the tender age of nine, and to have it all wash away was almost too much for him.
However, over the course of their sixth year, Lily had slowly come back around to him. She’d forgiven him recently, and they were trying to glue the pieces of their broken relationship back together. Not only was it difficult for her, it was difficult for him, too.
Severus took the bench opposite her and gazed out the window at the passing scenery. He’d always loved where Hogwarts was located. He’d grown up in a run down factory suburb. It certainly wasn’t anything to be proud of. His home was run down, dirty, stained, as well as his family. His father was an abusive drunk who treated his son and wife as punching bags. His mother was a fragile witch who was too afraid to leave her husband, regardless of the safety of her child. Sometimes he wasn’t sure who he detested more.
He pulled out his book and set it on his lap. Before he opened it, though, Severus looked at her. She was beautiful. It pained his heart to think of all the things they missed out on with each other over the past year. They’d missed last summer, Christmas, their birthdays. Well, the birthdays thing wasn’t true. She’d wished him a happy birthday whilst gathering supplies in Potions class and he’d wished her one while he changed a goblet into a rat in Transfigurations class.
“Do you have any plans for the summer? Your family have any trips booked?” he questioned, his poor attempt at small talk. Things had never been so strained and… distant, between them. He couldn’t believe this was the same Lily he’d been friends with.
But that’s the price he had to pay for being an idiot. He supposed it was his job now to build up her trust in him again.
A summer was a long time. They’d constantly be in one another’s presence (granted they both wanted that) and they wouldn’t have any outside forces or people to deal with. Sure, he’d go off with his friends and she’d go off with hers some of the time, but ultimately it would just be the two them. That’s how it always used to be.
“Let’s have a good summer, Lily,” he murmured solemnly, looking at her. “I’m really going to try. Just one day at a time, okay?”
Request: “ANNYEONG! naneun yuna! ㅋㅋㅋ so my request is a bad boy smut of jimin! can i be your friend aka #1 fan? ㅋㅋ thank you so much 💕💕” - @ayoderpo
Pairing: You x Jimin
Word Count: 11,176 (bloody hell this is so long!)
A/N: This took so so so long and I nearly cried trying to figure out how to end it! I am so so so proud of this and I hope you guys like it!! I also haven’t edited it! so if there are mistakes PLEASE let me know so I can correct it!! I might get round to it later who knows!
The next day came by, and before 9, you were up, showered, dressed and ready to leave for your first lesson. After your meal last night, you and Cha-Hee returned to your dorm and climbed into bed after getting changed. When tucked under your warm sheets, you faced each other and spoke more about your day like you did most nights, staring into the darkness until the conversation died, or one of you fell asleep; or became too tired to talk.
And after a good night’s sleep, you were ready for the day. You shoved your books and laptop in your bag, alongside everything you would need, pushed money into your pocket, whispered a goodbye to your sleeping roommate, and left.
You left far earlier than you needed to, just so you could wander around campus for a while and maybe buy yourself some breakfast that you didn’t want to make yourself. You remembered someone mentioning an internet cafe not far away from where you were walking. So, after some time of walking, you made your way to the cafe, ordered yourself a blueberry muffin and a coffee, and sat down to get some research done for the lessons you had today.
You also did a background check on the books you were going to be studying in literature class, looking where you could buy them, researching the author and looking deep into the meaning behind the book. They were your typical ‘perfect to analyse’ books, but you were going to enjoy reading them no doubt. And after checking the curriculum again for which ones you were going to study first, and purchased them.
You had finished the muffin, and did the things you had to and then leaned back in your chair, stretched and checked the time. You still had at least an hour to kill before your first lesson of the day. So, you rested your head back on the chair and stretched your arms again, closing your eyes momentarily just to relax.
“You look relaxed.” A familiar voice snapped you or trance and brought you back to reality.