#//She still argues since he could do a whole month without alcohol; he could easily give it up altogether

[dutybcrne]

Kaeya once gave up drinking for a whole month in penance because he'd accidentally embarrassed Diona in setting off her instincts to pounce by idly reflecting lights from an ice crystal.

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader 

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work. 

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest." 

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago. 

[taeescript]

29+1 (Part One)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother. 

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (taehyung x reader if you squint real hard) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin (diva!seokjin)

𝔴𝔠: 3.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: heavy use of alcohol as a coping mechanism, a plethora of sarcasm (please don’t be offended) and a sprinkle of softness (is that a warning?). 

𝔞/𝔫: this sat in my unwritten folder since 2017 no lie. I wrote the premise and a singular paragraph at that time, then just gave up. I opened it a few days ago, got inspired again and this word vomit came out (heavily influenced by a midnight Zoom call with my friends). Ngl this was so much fun to write, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I did. This will probably be in three parts.  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: I did not know that DailyHive is an actual online news source when writing. This work is purely fictional and has absolutely nothing to do with the real DailyHive. 

part two

Your friends have a saying: After 29, nobody shares their age until they’ve accomplished something. 

In the past, you didn’t understand it. What’s so bad about saying you’re 30 or you’re 32? That’s still a young age! Sure, you’re not exactly in your prime anymore but you’re not old, right?

So, you continue in your own wondrous world of naïveté until that fateful day at your class reunion. You had simply been walking around, minding your own business when you had been stopped by an old colleague.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” she waves you down. 

You smile kindly, not even bothering to try and remember her name (you sucked at names, what could you say). 

“Hey…you!” you chuckle lightly, “How have you been doing?” 

An everyday question leading to catastrophic effects. 

“Oh you know,” she says and rolls her eyes as if you truly did know, “I’ve just been out and about. Did I tell you though? I got married last year!” She holds out her hand in which a giant diamond adorns her finger. “Wow!” you gasp, feigning interest. It’s not that you aren’t happy for her, but you are reminded of just how single you are currently. When was the last time you felt another human’s touch? Does kissing come back as easily as riding a bicycle? “Hey!” she says suddenly, “I’m actually meeting with a couple of friends from our class. You should come join! I’m sure they’d be happy to see you again!” You want to wave her off, but against your better judgment, you find yourself following in her footsteps and listening to her speak about wedding venues and honeymoon destinations.

“Oh my god!” another female voice filters in.

The “couple of friends” this old classmate had mentioned is in fact a fairly impressive size of twenty. This is also the third time the wedding announcement has been made. 

“Last year?” the female continues, “Weren’t you young?”

Yes, you want to respond. Yes she was young. A full 365 days younger than she is now.

Your classmate, Sooyoung (or Kiko as she insists going by now) titters in front of you. “I mean, you can sort of say I’m a late bloomer. I got married when I was 31.”

Her words unintentionally cut into you. Here you are at 29 without a beau in sight. You take a fast swig of your beer and end up hitting the empty glass with a clink to your teeth. Nobody notices.

“Enough about me, however, how about you?”

“I started my own business actually. It’s been doing really well and it’s been a crazy mind. Imagine me, my own boss at only 33!”

You nervously join them when they suddenly laugh together.  

“Hi, can I get another pint please? Actually add a tequila shot to that,” you whisper the last part to the waitress you had just stopped.

And that was how the rest of the night went. People asking one another what they had accomplished. Any moment in time after 30 would not be mentioned until somebody travelled to Uganda to build houses at 31 or another gave birth at the same age. Below 30, anything would be attributed to luck or in your case…

“What are you doing currently?” somebody asks you, “The little baby of our class.”

Swallowing your third tequila shot of the night, you wonder for the umpteenth time how you had become a part of this giant sharing circle. You wonder if it’s a blessing or a curse that you had graduated a little early and thus was younger than most of your peers.

“Well,” you start, “I’m currently working at DailyHive.”

“Ohh!” a man gushes. You recognize him as the once-upon-a-time science partner you used to cheat notes off of. “I use DailyHive nearly as much as Instagram these days. You guys cover everything from news to sports to fashion.”

You shrug. “Yeah. It’s, uh… it’s a pretty big company!”

“What are you doing there?”

Kiko-ex-Sooyoung hits the man teasingly on the shoulder. “Y/N is probably the Director of Marketing or something. Remember how she used to spend all class doodling in her notebook?”

“Or sleeping!” someone quips.

You don’t join in when they all laugh.

“I’m…an intern,” you say with as much pride as you can in a group of established professionals ranging from dermatologists to that one guy who had flown around the world as a TedTalk guest speaker.

A hushed silence befalls everyone.

“That’s…cool!” the same man encourages you, “Interns are totally rad! Everyone wants an intern spot these days.”

His girlfriend pats your arm, almost empathetically. “Yeah. I know a bunch of people who first start off as interns and then they shoot up the ladder quick enough. As long as you’re no longer an intern at 30, you’re golden!”

Once again, the entire group laughs as if she has said the most hilarious of jokes.

She composes herself and says to you, “Because after that, you should have accomplished something.”

Her words still ring in your ears as you sit at your desk this morning.

Yeah…something. All you need to do is accomplish something in the next three months before you are officially, 29 + 1.

Your fingers tap against your thighs silently while you observe the current debate that is occurring in the conference room. You barely have time to sweep the falling hair back behind your ear as your fingers ferociously fly across the keyboard to keep in track with the meeting.

Fei is arguing that the implement of a new search word system would boost users while Daniel says that it is a waste of resources. Instead, everything should be put into updating the entire system as a whole. You have long since lost track of their words as neither pertain to what you do as an intern.

“Enough,” the CEO of DailyHive holds up a hand. His one word causes the entire room to hush over – truly, the words of a god.

And that might as well be what he is. With his hair swept back and a lone tendril curling perfectly above his brow, Kim Seokjin is legitimately a walking god. Off his broad shoulders hang an expensive white linen suit bought with his pocket change and your yearly salary. A pair of sunglasses hangs in the V of the collared shirt dipping low enough to blur the lines between being fashionably professional and just downright sexy.

The snap of his fingers brings you back to the present.

He dramatically rolls his eyes and accepts that you are an incompetent minute-taker.  

“I have to remember that the world just doesn’t move as fast as I do.”  

                                                            - Quote: Rolling Stones 2019 Kim Seokjin.

Now if only he’d remember he had once said that.

He points at each of them with one finger, then swipes to the left. “Both of you, solve this outside. I don’t want to hear your voices any longer. You two from the marketing team, Ungroomed Stache and Acne Chin, create me a report if we are to implement Ms. Song’s idea. The two of you from…” he takes a pause here clearly having forgotten who his employees are, “The two of you do the same thing but for Mr. Hwang.”

The pair from accounting open their mouth to protest that they are in charge of only numbers, but they are ignored.

“All of you out now. Except you,” he points his finger directly at you, “Stay.”

Nobody utters a single word until they have all left and you are left alone with him. Standing before him with your hands folded nicely in front of you, you blink and wait.

He stares right back at you, picks up his coffee mug and drops it. The clatter of ceramic smashing against the ground causes a pause in the loud buzz outside the room. You know everybody’s focus has been shifted into the room.

“Do you want to kill me?” he drawls.

You take a long inhale. “No,” you say.

“No?” he repeats the word, “Well I think you do. Did you check this coffee before you brought it to me? I tasted cinnamon in it. You know how I’m allergic to cinnamon. Get me a new cup. And this mess, get somebody to clean it. I don’t want the smell of coffee in this room when I have my next meeting here in twenty. I’m taking a smoke a break.”

He stands up and brushes past you without saying anything else.

Nobody can be allergic to cinnamon. Besides if he had actually tasted cinnamon and was that sensitive, he would be dead. And good riddance to that.

Of course, you say none of this and wordlessly begin to pick up the broken ceramic pieces of the dead mug. The bustling outside the meeting room has returned back to its normal state of chaos. Seeing the ugly stain of coffee on the once pristine carpet causes you to swear beneath your breath.

“Who the fuck is allergic to cinnamon?” a new voice says, sliding up beside you.  

The second god in DailyHive; the much nicer and evidently preferred Kim; Taehyung takes the mug pieces from you and drops it into the garbage bin.

Blessed with not only intelligence but devilishly model-like features, he is your desk buddy in the small space allotted for interns and your sole friend in the company.

“Tae,” you sigh with exasperation upon seeing your lifesaver, “What am I going to do about this stain? He’s going to return in fifteen and there’s no way I can get a coffee stain out of this expensive-ass carpet.”

Taehyung taps a long finger to his lips, leaves the room briefly, and returns with a roll of Bounty sheets and a can of Febreze. He promptly blots as much of the coffee off from the carpet then proceeds to pull the meeting table.

“C’mon, Y/N, don’t just stand there. Help me! Time is of the essence!”

You laugh and join him in moving the table so that one of the legs cover the stain 80% of the way. Once he is satisfied, he takes the Febreze and sprays until the whole room smells like “Hawaiian Aloha”.

“You’re welcome.” He gives an extravagant bow, the motion popping open the top button of his shirt to expose a surprisingly chiseled chest.

Fei returns back into the room holding a phone to her ear and a clipboard in her left hand. “What the hell? It smells like a Bath & Body Works in here. Intern, aren’t you supposed to be filing or something? Stop standing around and be useful.” She grips Taehyung’s arm and drags him out of the room. “Button up. This is a professional workplace.”

You give him a tiny wave as Taehyung is steered away by his girlfriend and back to the cubicles.

Taehyung may be your saviour at work, but outside, it cannot be denied that your brother is the true Fountain of Life.

A week has passed since the coffee incident (you suspect a cleaning personnel had found the stain and cleaned up after your improv as aforementioned stain can no longer be found), but Jimin still brings it up.

“I still can’t believe that he said he was allergic to cinnamon. I’ve never heard of such bullshit before,” your brother says over the phone. You can practically hear his eyeroll from across the world.

As a renowned ophthalmologist, you have not seen Jimin for close to a year as he has been initiating his new clinic, a flying eye hospital.

“You should hear his Starbucks order. I always feel like I’m ready to launch my next EP whenever I’m at the counter,” you say.

Jimin laughs. There is the muffled sounds of voices as his never-ending flow of patients have arrived for the day.

“I shouldn’t keep you,” you say upon hearing that, “You’re probably really busy.”

“No,” he says, “I’ve got a few minutes if you’ve got a few. I miss talking to my baby sister.”

“I’m not a baby anymore, Jiminie,” you say using the nickname he hated.

“Oh that’s right. Your birthday’s in a little under three months, right? My baby sister is turning the big three-oh.”

“God, don’t remind me.”

“Want me to come visit you?”

You contemplate the idea once, having not seen Jimin in quite a while.

“Only if you have time. But I feel like Mom and Dad would probably want to see you more. Speaking of which, um… How are Mom and Dad?”

“They’re good. I hear Dad is finally going to retire this year. He’s giving his practice to Kibum, you remember him? Mom will probably start pestering us about what to do for his retirement party.”

There is a pause.

“You know, it wouldn’t hurt to say hi to them once in a while.”

You sigh. “And say what? Hey, it’s me. The child that ran away from home at 18? Yeah, I’m not a doctor like everybody else in the family but a 29 year old intern at a popular app company. Whassuuup?”

“Y/N, that’s not what I – ”

“It’s okay, Jimin. I’ve come to accept that not everybody is cut out to be a doctor. I just wish Mom and Dad could realize that.”

Jimin sighs on your behalf. There is the sound of a crying child coming through the earphone. “Well, your contract expires a few weeks after your birthday, right? Who knows, you might be the next Mark Zuckerberg.”

He has never explicitly inquired about your life plan and you know this is as much as he is willing to push without asking, “What’s next after this intern hiccup?” At least he had the decency to compare you to a controversial Internet entrepreneur.

The child is crying much louder now.

“Again with my birthday. But I’ll let you know,” is the only reply you can come up with at the moment. “Okay, brother, go forth and heal the blind. I bless thee in the name of the Holy Spirit, Son and Ghost.”

There is true laughter that rings from Jimin as he ends the call. “It’s Father, Son and Holy Ghost you dweeb. I love you sis.”

“You too.” You hang up first before he can add anything else.

With that, you enter into the 7am Starbucks queue and prepare yourself in running the first single of your long overdue EP.

Seokjin leans back in his chair, watching you from inside his office. Today he has chosen a black turtleneck and a brazen maroon-nearly purple suit jacket to complete the outfit. For once, there is an empty mug of coffee beside him and his morning headache has been appeased.

He knew he had given you an impossible task.

“Compile all the troubleshooting errors we have received since the launch of DailyHive. Organize it in a manner that allows me to identify the most prominent problem. Run it through whomever you please before giving it to me. I don’t need to waste my time correcting your mistakes.”

There is an amused smile that bubbles beneath his otherwise stoic features. He cannot deny that there is, might he dare say, a cute quality about you as you manually scan through the received concerns on your laptop dating back to the initial beta tests – the ones that were lost in a data crash and only backed up with unintelligible scribblings of previous interns.

The moment you had been introduced as the new intern, you had caught his eye. You are exquisitely mundane, and perhaps the reason you had even caught him the first time was due to solely to the fact that you were older than most interns – himself even. Nevertheless, you continue to present him small surprises in your tenacity and capability to tackle challenges.

“Mr. Kim.”

His intercom comes alive with the voice of his secretary.

Seokjin’s eyes do not leave you as he answers.

“Mr. Hwang is on line two. Would you like me to defer him to a later time if you are currently busy?”

Seokjin cannot help but sigh. Hwang Junho, his co-founder, while a genius in international business is also a notorious chatterbox and gossip. There is seldom a reason for Junho to call him except to relay the cover titles of E!Magazine.

“Did he mention a reason for calling?” Seokjin inquires.

His secretary seems to be reading from a note. “He says it’s to do with the company. Something he read from Cosmopolitan this morning.”

So not E! but another sister celebrity gossip blog. He checks his watch and duly notes that he certainly has no meetings scheduled until later in the afternoon where your report would be needed to run a preliminary analysis.

“Sir?”

“Yes, put him through. But tell him I’ve got only five minutes, so he’s better give me the Cliffnotes version,” Seokjin sighs again.

Before he can be connected, Seokjin quickly says, “What’s the name of that intern again?”

“Who?” his secretary asks, “We’ve hired four since the beginning of the year.”

“The one who keeps wanting to poison me.”

“I’m sorry, Sir?” she sounds concerned.

“The one who keeps forgetting that I despise cinnamon.”

There is no response.

“The older one. Spilled coffee a while ago but still has enough coordination to pull together a decent report.”

“Ah,” she says.

He waits patiently as she searches through the database, eventually giving him your name. He gives a slight pause and then says, “Good. Now patch me with Junho.”

There is a momentary buzz as the call becomes connected in which Seokjin turns over the syllables of your name wordlessly.

“Mr. Kim. The man of the hour. How are you, my brother?” Junho’s baritone fills the office in a manner of seconds.

Despite the little annoying quirks, Seokjin cannot help but smile when hearing the voice of his best friend.

“You’ve got three minutes, Junho.”

Junho grumbles. “That’s not my fault. You were the one still on the line with your secretary. Is it still Yerin? ‘Cuz I won’t blame you if that’s the case. Did I catch you doing some naughty phone sex during office hours?”

“Two.”

“Holy hell. Fine. It’s always business with you. That’s why the tabloids are always writing you as an uptight asshole.”

This shifts Seokjin’s attention to the phone. His name is seldomly mentioned except for the features in business columns. He prefers to stay out of the limelight.

“What?”

“Put your name on Google.”

Seokjin does as he is told.

There are millions of results, but the first few pages share the same headline. He clicks on the first one with a grimace.

“Kim Seokjin. Mr. Worldwide Handsome as noted by his fans, has recently sparked Internet outrage.”

A quick skim of the otherwise trashy article brought to the surface a summary: his last dating scandal had ended badly and the repercussions of blowing off a famous celebrity’s daughter had finally caught up with him. The Internet was calling him arrogant, narrow-minded, and even greedy. “The young Chief Executive Officer of booming social media app DailyHive has been accused of using his relationship with actress XYZ to further his own business. Once he gained recognition from aforementioned relationship, he has cold-heartedly cast her away to pursue his next.” “You’re calling me for this bullshit?” Seokjin scoffs. Junho tuts his tongue loudly. “This is not bullshit. It’s affecting the image of your company. Do you think people want to download and support an app that is run by somebody who is being called cruel and dishonest? You’ve got to address this soon before it gets out of control. You’re lucky I have alerts set for these type of things. I caught it for you just in the nick of time.” Seokjin inhales deeply. “You’re also lucky that I’ve got the perfect solution in mind.” “That is?” “The Silver Gala,” Junho references the prestigious event. The Silver Gala is hosted annually and attended by the largest celebrities as well as other wealthy investors and guests. Those in the social circle shared between Seokjin and Junho often yearned for tickets to attend events such as this, as they serve as excellent networking opportunities. Besides the above, such events are circled by reporters and writers of gossip columns to get the exclusive scoop on any eyebrow-raising rumours. “The solution lies in such an event,” Junho continues, “You know how many people will be there. All you’ve got to do is show up with your average girl-next-door type and it’ll show how you’re actually really humble and down to earth. Kim Seokjin is perfectly capable of dating like any regular human being. He doesn’t use “love” or whatever to further his business. Love is the connection between two souls; two individuals who – ” “Beep. Your time has run out Junho. I’ve got another meeting scheduled right this moment,” Seokjin interrupts. “Dude, seriously. Think about it. You could bring Yerin. Everbody loves a good CEO and his secretary affair. And if that’s too juicy for you, I can introduce you to some girls. Or maybe we could go back to our university days and hit a bar, y’know?” Junho tries his best to persuade. “Fuck!” you swear beneath your breath right as you walk into Kim Seokjin’s office. His door had been open and, in your excitement to show your completed report, you had dropped all the loose papers on the ground. Four hours of organization gone, just like that. You hope that at least Seokjin hasn’t heard or noticed you as he had been engrossed in his phone call. Seokjin had in fact noticed you. He can’t help himself but follow the curvature of your bare shoulder as your bangs escape the hold of your scrunchie and sweep across your skin. “Don’t worry, Junho, I’ve just thought about it,” he says with a smile.

[anika-ann]

Walk Me Home Tonight (S.R.)

Type: one-shot, songfic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader     Word count: 4700

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to be in a celebratory mood when all you can think of is that life sucks and that being left on your own to drown your sorrows is for the best.

Sometimes people who care about you know better than yourself and come crashing your party of one.

Sometimes, despite the popular belief, you do realize how lucky you are having been introduced to Steve Rogers.

Warnings: mention of blood and violence and death, mention of alcohol, angst, fluff and language

A/N: P!nk’s Walk Me Home just does something to me, alright? Music video included - it’s soooo beautiful.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

You stared at the amber liquid, lazily making it roll in the glass with idle motions of your wrist. It reflected the rather soft lights of the bar, an exquisite game of colour you found fascinating enough to dull your mind and muffle the noise of the party.

It wasn’t that you were a party pooper, not usually anyway; just… the timing wasn’t ideal.

Of course, Sharon could hardly move her birthday to make it more convenient for you, less so a party her colleagues had decided to throw for her. You knew Agent Carter for quite some time now; she had joined SHIELD about the same time as you, going through the same tough training. Except unlike you – and initially without your knowledge – she had an image to live up to.

You might even call her a friend, your chest bursting in pride for her when her hard work had finally borne some fruit and she had been promoted to an assistant director of the intelligence agency. Among other things, it earned her a lot of new potential friends.

You were hardly acting like one tonight, much to your own annoyance. But for some reason, you found it difficult to leave your momentary emotional baggage at the doorstep, slipping it off as easily as your coat. You had wished her all the best, conversed for a tiny bit and then happily made space for others, for the forming line of guests waiting to celebrate with her as well.

Then you retreated to your spot at the bar, possibly annoying the bartender, who would have been more delighted seeing some heavier drinker occupying your seat, tipping generously, instead of having you nursing each glass of alcohol for about two hours.

You weren’t even sure why you were still here; you had given up on the attempt on small talk with anyone, apparently unwittingly chasing away any potential company. And here you thought misery did love company – perhaps you were wrong, at least when it came to birthday parties of gorgeous women loved by everyone. You might as well pack up your bottom and sulk at home.

You were stubbornly shushing the voice in the back of your skull, whispering about knowing precisely why you remained in your seat; about feeling less alone here, despite being a literal loner in a crowd.

You downed the rest of the bitter scotch, basking in the burn which it left on its way down your throat, your eyelids slipping shut in content, the noise in your brain falling silent completely for few blissful moments.

“Party of one?” a male voice gently asked, the tinniest note of teasing in it and while your heart skipped a startled beat at being addressed, you felt the burn in your throat slip lower, warming your chest and causing the corners of your mouth turn up just a fraction.

 There's something in the way you roll your eyes Takes me back to a better time When I saw everything is good But now you're the only thing that's good

 “Felt like crashing it?” you hummed in response, side-eyeing the intruder and found a pair of cerulean eyes staring back. He blindly waved off the eager bartender who was about to offer him a drink.

Ah, poor guy. No tips for him tonight.

“Well, I didn’t get an invitation. Looks like crashing was my only option.”

You sighed tiredly despite Steve’s kind teasing. Tonight was just… so exhausting. Tonight. Today. This week. Gah, this whole month. This fucking year--- okay, maybe you were exaggerating, because you were simply crossing the line, moving from relaxed buzzed drunk to a miserable one.

Battling with yourself, arguing whether you should send him to hell – nicely, because Steve was nothing but kind, he was always so kind, goddammit, gentle humour spiced with the ability to become an utter troll, still benign though, that was why you usually enjoyed his company so much after all-… – or call it a night.

Or should you order another drink? Was there a point? You might cross the line to a clingy drunk eventually and you weren’t certain that was a good idea.

It was probably about as good of an idea as coming to a party despite feeling like shit on an emotional roller-coaster, dangerously inclining towards a very bad mood to put it mildly.

You tilted your head to side as you looked at Steve properly, tight blue shirt flattering his supersoldier frame, black pants with desperately needed leather belt considering his thin waist, his blonde hair a mess, gaze fixed on you, observing. Always observing to read people, to anticipate behaviour, evaluate the threat; sometimes simply to be considerate, to… to be compassionate.

Dammit, Steve.

“Must have got lost in the mail then,” you said eventually, offering a weak smile. “Sorry.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” he shrugged it off, the curve of his lips more distinct than yours. As if he was offering to cheer you up. Sweet, but possibly vain effort tonight. Sometimes, things simply piled up and there was no escape. Such was the fate of a government agent. And human, for that matter. “Doesn’t look like much fun and I think it’s about to end anyway.”

“I guess…”

 Tryna stand up on my own two feet This conversation ain't comin' easily And darling, I know it's getting late So what do you say we leave this place?

 This time, Steve actually made an eye contact with the bartender, who eagerly rushed to him at instant. His excited expression fell when he noticed you were pulling out your wallet to close your tab. You didn’t have the strength to shoot him an apologetic smile.

Steve’s eyes were on you the whole time, you could feel them, and you wondered why. Until he spoke again, as soon as the other man left.

“Come on. I’ll walk you home,” he offered gentlemanly, coaxing you into saying yes, possibly unaware of the effect which such tone had on people.

Or perhaps he knew, using exactly that when he was trying to talk someone down, to calm them, gain their trust. The joke was on him, because it was a vain effort; you trusted him fully already. Surely, he knew that.

Right?

Trust was the solid base the team of Avengers needed and since you somehow found yourself with them, it involved you too. The team stood and fell on trust and mutual respect. But it meant so much more – they were friends. They cared about each other, about their well-being.

Right now, Steve was being a good friend and a good teammate.

And you were being exactly that too when you turned his kind proposition down.

“No, it’s fine. There are still some people who are actually able to speak coherently with you. Go enjoy yourself. I’ll be okay.”

“It’s three in the morning,” he pointed out, as if admonishing you for not noticing. Your eyebrow rose deliberately.

“…and?”

“And I’d feel better if you weren’t walking the streets alone,” he replied easily, ignoring the hint of snark in your comeback as you made your way to the coat-stand.

Still walking on the line of miserable and pleasantly buzzed, you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean to him for such patronizing approach. He had been raised this way and despite his open mind and admirable respect to women, he slipped sometimes.

“Steve, I’m a SHIELD agent basically turned Avenger. I can take care of my-“

“But you don’t have to. And-” He gestured subtly back towards the bar and a metaphorical lightbulb flickered above your head.

Not patronizing then, god forbid chauvinist; Peggy Carter would rise from the death to beat him with his own shield, with Natasha’s enthusiastic help, if he was showing any sign of aforementioned qualities and he was well-aware of that.

Just mother-henning then, the way Steve excelled at.

It brought the first honest smile of the night to your lips. You made sure to face him so he could see how wholesome his company was for you.

“I’m not too drunk, Steve. I had like two glasses of scotch,” you assured him, gently brushing his forearm before reaching for your coat and scarf. “And two beers.”

“I know,” he stated, stealing your coat only to hold it out for you to slip into it.

God, the woman who would once win his heart was about to be one lucky bitch.

Jim has never done this for me, flashed through your mind and you instantly shushed the whining voice in your head. Instead, you went over what he just said, blinking in surprise.

Huh? He… knew?

“I… might have kept an eye on you,” he admitted tentatively, the tips of his fingers brushing your shoulder before retreating and letting you to cocoon in the fabric.

“Why?”

Why would he keep an eye on you? Sure, teammates and friends and all that, but for some reason, you doubted he kept an eye on Tony, the only other Avenger (beside Steve, not Steve and you, you don’t count, a voice hissed in your mind and you winced) who attended the party, not being on any mission at the moment.

Why did Steve feel like you needed a chaperone?

No, that was too harsh of a word for him, you were certain his intentions were everything but malicious, but… why?

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

 The genuine wonder must have been audible in your voice, much like your shock must have been clear in your expression, because Steve seemed sheepish all of sudden, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Well, I mean, I know that you probably wouldn’t-“ he started, only to grimace. “It’s not that I think you’re an alcoholic! It’s just that... you--- and it’s only been-…“

-four days since you got dumped, you finished the unspoken sentence and tried your best to ignore the cold seeping into your bones at the reminder.

One of the reasons why you had been in a sour mood and deciding to drink alone. Your amazing asshole of a boyfriend had dumped you, metaphorically kicking you while you had already been down. Lovely.

“-I was worried. But you didn’t look like you were interested in having company, I didn’t want to be a bother and-“

You pulled Steve out of his misery by placing a hand over his forearm, which stopped the words spilling uncontrollably from his mouth.

He was actually being very sweet and thoughtful. It kinda made you feel bad, because… you weren’t looking for dragging someone down with you. As it was, he had his own reasons to not be happy about partying tonight, but feeling like he had to keep an eye on you probably didn’t help to lift his spirits.

“-and you had to spend some time with the woman of the hour,” you finished instead of him slowly, hoping you sounded at least half as thoughtful as he did and that you didn’t appear to be the greatest bitch, stealing attention from Sharon. “That’s understandable, Steve. It is her birthday party and I’m the one being antisocial.”

You bit down your lip, lowering your gaze, because the infamous worried wrinkle appeared on Steve’s forehead and you just knew he was about to protest and you… honestly felt bad about your behaviour and the welcoming colour of his eyes was not helping to make you feel any better, because of course he probably thought it was perfectly normal to look out for you instead of allowing himself to enjoy the night and- ugh.

“You… you shouldn’t have to look out for me. Your attention could have been fully on the birthday girl.”

Naturally, Steve Rogers basically shrugged it off. Covering your hand on him with his large palm, he slouched to look into your eyes once more. Insistent bastard, no doubt aware of your inability to say no to his amiable face.

“That’s what friends are for. Now, can I walk you home?”

You shook your head with a sad smile, rising your gaze towards the ceiling, hoping it came out as an exasperation at his stubbornness and not as it truly was – you in fact attempting to keep your tears at bay, because, miserable drunk, dumped four days ago apart from other things and there he was, asshole perfect, Steve fucking Rogers, gentleman and friend extraordinaire, caring for your well-being more than Jim ever had.

A twinkle appeared in his eye when he recognized he won and you chuckled, sealing his victory out loud.

“Yes, Steve. You can walk me home. It’s conveniently located on the way to yours.”

He smirked when he shrugged on his own coat. “Happy coincidences…”

 There's something in the way I wanna cry That makes me think we'll make it out alive So come on and show me how we're good I think that we could do some good, mhm

 Once you left the bar, silence fell on you, feeling heavy as did the cold November air.

Heavy and awkward. While you could tell with certainty you were barely affected by the alcohol you had drunk, your steps were wobbly, knees shaky as if you were a baby horse trying to stand up for the first time.

Steve walked by your side, majestic in his thigh-length coat, hands snugged in its pockets only halfway as if he was waiting for you needing his support. It irritated you as much as it warmed your heart.

On top of everything, you would swear every lone person you met stared at you, staring you up and down until they seemed to register Steve’s imposing frame and quickly went back to their business. It annoyed you to no end; it was just proving Steve’s point that you shouldn’t walk the streets alone at such hour, government agent or not.

“I would have been fine, you know,” you hummed, cautiously breaking the relative quiet.

It was never truly quiet in New York City, only rush hours alternating with calmer ones. You didn’t mind it; you enjoyed the city. Sometimes quiet meant that thoughts won the opportunity to become too loud; tonight, for some reason, despite the silence, Steve prevented that ever since he joined you.

It dawned to you then, how ungrateful you sounded and you quickly added “But thanks.” –  a whisper full of honesty.

“Uh-huh.”

Perhaps the silence weighted so much because your mood wasn’t the only cause of it.

Steve was showing you that he worried; surely, you could as well? Because you did, worry about him that was.

“…are you? Okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asked distractedly, but you could hear the frown on his face, the image of his nose scrunched in confusion painted in front of your eyes even without looking at him.

“Just… today-” you nudged him once more and vaguely eyed your watch only to be reminded that ‘today’ was a confusing term. “Or, more like, yesterday…”

A sharp inhale was drawn at your side and you could sense as he started closing off, putting up his walls so no one would catch a scent of his weakness. You hated when he tried to do that. You would have thought you were past that. You liked to consider you two friends at least.

Tonight was simply not your night. Of either of you, apparently.

“What about it-?“

You sighed, fighting the urge to roll your eyes. Were you truly such a crappy company, an insensitive friend or was there something sorrowful and cranky in the air, preventing your communication channels from tuning to the same frequency?

You were aware what the day meant for him – another painful reminder of what he had lost with crashing the plane in the forties only to wake up in a new millennium.

Though this particular loss – of his mother – haunted him even back in what some people called his days. It was an utter non-sense. Steve belonged there as much as he belonged here. He was brave enough to try and stubborn enough to succeed in fitting in.

“Nothing, I guess,” you sighed once more, this time rolling your eyes. “…Mr. Nothing Can Touch Me.”

The wry nickname hung in the air for a while, the faint noise of the night city washing over your pair. When Steve broke it again, there was a barely audible crack in his voice.

“I… I’m okay. I think. I… should be. It’s been so long. Decades,” he mused, turning his gaze to the sky. His eyes glistened and if you didn’t know him, hadn’t witnessed his walls lowering before, you would have thought it was just the streetlights reflecting.

You knew better. Tentatively, your fingers brushed his, not remembering when his hands had left his pockets. You were grateful for it now, especially when he didn’t retrieve from your touch instantly.

“Not for you,” you pointed out quietly, rewarded by the softest squeeze of his warm hand.

The heaviness and tension you had felt before resolved with the gesture. Something finally fell into place and you were almost you again and he was almost him.

Two figures, carrying their griefcases, but functioning and… harmonizing once more.

“How did you know?”

“That’s what friends are for, Steve,” you echoed his earlier words, sending a tiny smile his way, meeting his glassy gaze. “They remember important dates, good or bad.”

“No one else did. Not that I can actually hold it against Buck, of course... but no one… you…” his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought – or perhaps he had never truly directed it to the station in the first place.

Your shoulders moved a fraction, a hint of a shrug-off. His hand wrapped around yours tighter in silent appreciation, not showing any sign of intending to let go.

And you were alright with that. More than alright.

Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind, mhm So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on outside

Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh Ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh

His presence was always immense, overwhelming even; yet so comfortable you didn’t have the slightest problem with opening your heart to him, offering it to him even when it was bleeding. And now, finally tuned together, it was no different.

You bared your heart to him, even if it hurt.

“She didn’t make it,” you whispered, voice pained in the dead of the night and he didn’t react, letting you to gather strength to elaborate. You cleared your throat as the lump grew in it.  “Kayla, one of the kids… from last week’s mission. I found out yesterday… she-she didn’t make it, she had too many injuries. Word is that perhaps it was even a blessing. A relief.”

“I’m so sorry,” Steve repented, his grip growing stronger just a fraction, enough to make your chest and eyes burn.

“Yeah, so am I.”

Whatever he heard in your voice, it caused his fingers twitch in your hand, his footsteps slowing down. “You know that wasn’t your fault, right?”

“Wasn’t it? If I was faster, if I-“

Steve stopped in his tracks completely, pulling at your hand to make you do the same and face him.

You closed your eyes when his blue ones met them, unable to stand the urgency in them. His free hand curled around your shoulder, caressing in attempt at comfort.

“Hey, hey, don’t do that to yourself.” Hypocrite, you threw back at him in your mind, stubbornly keeping your eyelids shut, simply knowing that if you saw the sincerity in his gaze in addition to the fervour he spoke with, you might actually believe him. “You did your best. I know that, Nat and Buck know, everyone does. A monster you helped to put behind bars hurt the kids. Not you. You saved so many lives.”

You shook your head with a sigh, staring straight ahead as you turned on your heels and continued your path. Steve, never letting go of your hand, followed reluctantly.

“Sometimes I think he might have been right, you know?”

Peripherally, you saw him frown again and you cursed yourself for drinking – it untangled your tongue and his stupid face made your spill your guts to him, vomit emotion. You weren’t too secretive about your feelings most of the time, but damn, you hated how alcohol pushed your boundaries of sharing them.

“… Jim. He said that maybe I should give it up. That I’m just running alongside you, heroes, pretending to be one of you, but in the end, I’m not even close to being as good-“

Steve’s feet took roots in the ground, his steely grip forcing you to stop – as long as you wanted to keep your hand attached, which yeah, you kinda did.

“I feel like taking a detour now,” he muttered darkly and for a short moment, confusion was everything you felt, blissfully overtaking the anger, the sorrow, the helplessness and the feeling of utter uselessness.

“Huh?”

“Where does Jim live?” Steve spitted out the name venomously and you couldn’t help the wave of affection washing over you. Affection towards this treasure of a man who apparently wanted to punch another human being because it offended his friend. “He has no business saying something like that. Especially if his bullshit actually affects you-”

“Steve, he wasn’t wrong, I’m just-“ you sputtered, caught off guard when you registered the fire in his glare.

“We all make mistakes. But that’s beside the point, because you didn’t even make any that day. I read the report, and I know you, you put everything you got and more into the rescue mission. How can he-“ he hissed, literally taking a calming breath as both of his hands balled into fist.

Well, one of them only nearly, since it was still holding yours. It actually stung a bit, the bones in your hand close to grinding against each other.

“-I haven’t met him many times, but if he said that instead of comforting you after an incredibly draining mission, then I’m glad that that asshole is gone from your life. … though I would still appreciate his address.”

Blinking away the few stray tears that welled up, you forced a smile as Steve’s strict glare found yours. It felt good, seeing his indignation; having someone else exasperated on how Jim had reacted. He should have given you a hug and hold you tight; that was what you would wish for. Instead, he told you to stop complaining and when you accused him of not supporting you, he called you a whiny bitch who should make up her damn mind and broke things off.

You deeply appreciated Steve’s display of chivalry, hell, you half-considered giving away the address just so Jim would hear someone else agreeing with you, but you were honestly just tired. And you had a feeling Steve wouldn’t stay only at words and seeing any more blood, any more aggression would have been too much for you tonight.

Tonight, you… you needed serenity and comfort.

“…thank you. That… that means a lot. But… maybe just walk me home? Please? Could you walk me home, Steve?” you pleaded softly, barely audible, not caring it sounded like weeping of a needy child.

Unbeknownst to you, that was the last thing you resembled in Steve’s eyes. Your imploring gaze, vulnerable and open, it moved something inside him, his anger silenced for the moment, leaving him defenceless, unable to say no. Not that he had an intention to do so. He always had trouble saying no to you.

So he forced his fists to relax, running his thumb over the back of your hand and whispered the only word that made sense.

“Always.”

You settled back to the comfortable silence after that.

 Walk me home in the dead of night 'Cause I can't be alone with all that's on my mind Say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong going on

 You reached the Tower hand in hand.

Neither of you released the other. Not during the elevator ride, not when you walked the halls lined with doors leading to each’s private quarters.

You were still holding onto each other when you came to a stop in front of your door; rest assured, Steve Rogers would lead you right to your door even if his was only at the end of the very same corridor.

Standing nearly chest to chest, his eyes bored into yours with seriousness that surprised you.

“For the record, you do a great deal of good,” he reassured you, saying it as if he truly meant it. It tugged at your heart, sweet and bitter. “You’re amazing and you’re the most authentic of all of us. I admire you.”

That claim caused you to chuckle. Now he was laying it on a bit thick, downright exaggerating.

“You admire me? Steve, that’s really nice of you to say, but don’t be ridi-“

Your words died in your throat when his large palm splayed over your cheek, cradling it gently. When the paddle of his thumb swiped over your other cheek, soft smile playing on his lips, his irises bright with a promise, time seemingly stopped along with your heart.

“And you’re a great friend to the whole team, a wonderful person. Do me a favour and finally learn to accept a compliment,” he asked of you in hushed voice, the electric blue and green of his eyes locking you in. “If he didn’t praise you enough for you to get used to it, he was doing something wrong.”

You gulped, a silly association with the word ‘praise’ allowing you to break from the cage of his gaze that had previously had your mind gone blank.

“I’m not a dog to be praised, Steve…”

One corner of his lips – and when did they got so close anyway? – twitched. And then a tender kiss landed on your forehead, just the softest brush of lips against your skin. The gesture, utterly incomprehensible for you, had your eyelids flutter shut.

“I’m very much aware. Believe me, doll, I know. Thank you for letting me walk you home.”

You only nodded at the ridiculous statement – why was he thanking you? – too perplexed at the fact his lips had made contact with your skin. When did you cross the line towards the delusional drunk?

His fingertips caressed your face as he let go, wishing you to have a good night. Too baffled, you were unable to respond until he had already made his way to his door and you suddenly missed the warmth of his presence.

Breaking free from your haze, you acted on impulse, apparently startling him when you called his name out of blue so urgently.

“Steve!”

Whipping his head around to look at you, you felt your heart jump into your throat.

“Uh… are you ready to go to bed or… or maybe… would you like to watch a movie or something?” With me?

I don’t think I’m ready to be alone. Ready to be without you.

Even from the distance, you would swear you saw his lips spread in a slow honey-sweet smile.

“I think I’d like that,” he called out lowly. “Ten minutes? I’ll get the blankets. You pick the movie.”

“See you in ten then.”

You pretended that your heart didn’t flutter, sending a wave of familiar tingle through your chest and to your fingers, as you slipped inside your room with your mouth curled up in a content smile.

 Walk me home in the dead of night I can't be alone with all that's on my mind So say you'll stay with me tonight 'Cause there is so much wrong There is so much wrong There is so much wrong going on outside

*✧･ Bonus *✧･

If Tony found them two and half hour later, closing credits rolling, the pair curled up and cuddling on the couch, you fast asleep in Steve’s arms, and he noticed that the supersoldier was in fact only faking to avoid an interrogation from the Ironman himself, he didn’t mention it. He just whispered to FRIDAY to turn off the TV and turn off the dimmed lights completely.

He hoped Rogers would treat you the way you deserved, unlike the man who now had farts announcing a received e-mail or texts, unable to change it, and a laptop turning on randomly, dead-pale children staring at him from the screen with hollow eyes and in clothes dripping water. Tony would hate to have to hack more tech again just to avenge your broken heart without your knowledge any time soon.

He’d rather suffer watching the two of his friends being disgustingly sweet on each other.

Probably.

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

S.R. masterlist

*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･*✧･

Silent thanks to the person who came up with the word ‘griefcase’ as an alternative to emotional baggage.

Also, I’m pretty sure songfics aren’t supposed to be so long... oops?

Thank you for reading!

[sainz-zayn]

Anagapesis

Anagapesis (n.) no longer feeling any affection for someone you once loved

Warnings: cheating please if you're sensitive towards this kind of topic please don't read it, alcohol usage, suggestive and sexual themes, toxic relationship, swearing, cheating is not good please don`t take this seriously in real life.

Word count: 5k+

Disclaimer: All Characters and events in this story even those based on real people are entirely fictional.

"Tell me have you ever love me!?" I whispered timidly.

"I've never loved you not even once!" He answered.

Those words came out from his beautiful lips like nothing ever happened between the two of us.

"Leave! I hate you!" my tears starts to fall from my eyes. I`ve never felt this broken before but the one and only Jung Jaehyun made me feel like my heart is shattered into pieces.

Well, how did it all started?

Sitting on my chair signing a contract all day long is hella hectic and surely stressful. I surely need an award tonight for this, maybe going out with the girls tonight is one of the greatest ideas.

Arriving at the club, a tall handsome man with great features already attracts my attention. The both of us checking out each other shamelessly is a wholesome scenery for my best friend.

"Looks like my best friend took a liking at someone huh?" Yoona said, then she  smirk at me before handing me a glass of wine. I rolled my eyes at her playfully.

"Why, do you know him?" I asked her as my attention goes back to where the man is sitting while talking to a girl, who I assumed is his girlfriend.

"No, I don't know him but my boyfriend Johnny surely does. his name is Jaehyun, Jung Jaehyun to be exact." Yoona exclaimed as I drink my fourth glass of wine.

"Johnny do you know the girl beside him?" I asked. 

"Yeah, that's his girlfriend Yerim. I kinda don't like her though. Want me to introduce you to him?" Duh, Yes, I`d like to. 

"Sure" but before I can stand up, Jaehyun is already walking towards our table  then he greets Johnny and do their handshake.

"You look like you've gotten into a fight" I said eyeing him, Jaehyun. 

"I'm Mayjun, Han Mayjun. Nice to meet you Mr. Handsome" I wink at him before grabbing another drink. He noticed that I`m flirting so he decided to go with it.

"I'm Jaehyun, Johnny's best friend and yeah... me and my girlfriend fought earlier" Jaehyun sighed then I gave him a glass of wine.

"Here drink this" 

 Yoona and Johnny told us that they are gonna dance for a bit. Tsk, a bit my ass huh. I know that they will be gone for a whole night.

"I guess we're alone now" He said then smirked.  Because of that decided to tease him.

"That guy kinda looks hot don't you think so?" 

"Tsk" Jaehyun replied.

"Awe is someone`s jealous now Mr.handsome?" I playfully chuckle.

"Wanna go for a dance?" I asked him making my way to the dance floor.

"Sure wait for m-" before he could finish talking I already started dancing. swinging my hips to the beat seductively while looking at him deep in the eyes makes him feel some kind of things that he shouldn't be feeling at this point.

 "You have a girlfriend for fuck sake Jaehyun" he  murmured under his breath but I heard it. 

He lost it when I and bite my lips. He approach me and holds my hips like I`m his. Everything happened so fast his soft plump lips are kissing mine roughly while I`m slowly grinding against his hard erected manhood.

That's how I ended waking up on Jaehyun's bed early in the morning in his masculine pair of arms. Wrapped around your waist just how I want it to be.

I faced him and greeted by a half-naked Jaehyun making me blush so hard.

"Like what you see?" He said mockingly while slowly showing his beautiful dimple that makes me love him more. This is wrong but it feels so right. Well, bad feels good, good feels bad.

He stands up making me see a more clearer view of his muscular body.

"I-i know this is wrong. I'm sorry for seducing you I am sorry we're both drunk last night and you know it too." I look down shyly and guilt is washing over my  body.

"Hey, what are you saying!? You don't need to be sorry. We both chose to do this and we're gonna continue it." He hugs my waist. I look at his eyes and pissed is clearly written all over his face.

"But you have a girlfriend I can't share a man with that girl!" I rolled my eyes at him. I push him through his chest and that made him more pissed off.

"We already did it so what's the point of turning back!?" He pinned me to the wall harshly making me hiss in pain before crashing his lips to mine. Without knowing you kissed him back. After a minute of our hot make-out session he pulled you into his embrace.

"So?" He whispered.

"Fine let's continue it, it's not like I don`t have a choice" I sigh before putting on my clothes.

"Stay I'll cook breakfast" He demand.

"No!"

"Yes!"

"No, I will not!" I exclaimed.

"Yes, you will" he said while approaching you.

"Jaehyun I'm already late. I'm the company`s CEO, I don't have a choice it's been a hectic week for our company."

"How about a dinner tonight?" He asked while fixing the watch on his wrist. Dinner sounds good.

"Okay, I'll eat dinner with you" I gave him a peck on his lips before leaving his house.

Sighing at myself, I rub my temples softly if yesterday was hella hectic then today is hella hell. A meeting here and there a contract to sign. I don't even get to eat lunch. I only have coffee and a subway burger that my secretary gave. 

I watch as the sun set a lot happened in a day. When the realization hits me, I don't even give Jaehyun my number nor my address. I consciously think of a way to contact him but it all stops when a soft knock interrupts my thoughts.

"Come in" I said clearing my throat, as my office door opens I see a glimpse of Jaehyun`s side profile.

"H-how?" I tried to remember if I gave him my address but no. 

I can`t recall anything. I stand up and he opens his arms for me to hug him but I walk pass him.

"Hey, I'm right here as you can see" he furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"duh! I know that I'm not blind" but deep inside I`m thinking how the heck he found out where I am.

"if you`re thinking how I get here, it`s because I tell my secretary to find you and here I am" Jaehyun admires my office for a bit. His taste is kinda similar to mine I think.

"by the way since last night I still didn't introduce my self properly I`m Jung Jaehyun the owner and CEO of Neo tech enterprises" Jaehyun smirk at my reaction.

 I can`t believe it the one whom I hook up with last night is one of the richest men I`ve ever know. His the owner of the number one technology company in South Korea with a New York branch. My company is ranked top 2 before his.

"and? that doesn`t change the fact that you`re cheating on your girlfriend with me." I huff in annoyance as the word "your girlfriend" slides to my tongue bitterly.

"I'm not here to argue with you okay? I`m here to have dinner with you. Now if you don`t want me here then bye" I`m shocked at his sudden change but you won`t easily chase him and lose. He wants to play? then let's play. But after thinking you decide not to play hard to get.

"Jaehyun I'm sorry okay? I-I`m just stress." then he smiles knowing that he already win. 

"Okay now don`t just stand there and let`s go." he emotionlessly said.

It`s been almost 4 months my relationship with Jaehyun is still going on. Everyone notices the tension every time we have a friend gathering. of course, we hook up here and there or whenever he wants to but today is different this past few weeks it`s like he been avoiding me. Not like the old days he always takes me to date and cuddles with me. He always makes me feel love, my friends already warn me that I might regret what we`re doing now in the future but I could care less.

Admiring my expensive dress in the mirror I sure do look mesmerizing, I always do. Many men are ready to give their love to me, many of them have already court me but none of them is in my standard. Yes I admit it I`m a picky and choosy person when it comes to my love life or personal affair but what can I do? when there is only one Jung Jaehyun in the world. The thought of him with another woman is making me jealous but that's not the point you already have him wrapped around your fingers. You're Han Mayjun and what Mayjun want, Mayjun get. You have it all powers, wealth, beauty, and most importantly Jung Jaehyun one of the richest and handsome men you've ever known. 

While sipping my favorite wine, I heard a light knock from my door assuming that it`s jaehyun but I remind myself that it`s not him because he already told me that he`s going to the gala with his girlfriend. Yeah, the girlfriend who he always takes to the gala with him. Because of this we argue with each other and I didn`t hear anything from him in 2 days but what can you do about it your relationship with him is all hidden from the public.

"Come in" the door open and my date for the night who is my Ex Jungwoo. I gotta admit, it took me so long to move on from him because of what happened between the two of us. He just suddenly leave me like nothing ever happened between the two of us. He leaves me without saying goodbye. almost 3 years ago he goes to the US to take over his dad company and comeback after a year and us two got into good chemistry and became a best friend that`s why he`s the one who I choose to be my date tonight at the gala. 

"Pleasure to meet you my love" Jungwoo holds my hand and kisses the top of it gently. It makes my heart flutter, I gotta hide it.

"No need to be so polite you know, I miss you Kim Jungwoo" I give him a big teddy bear hug who he accepts gladly. I take my time hugging Jungwoo it`s like his my comfort. The moment stops when his assistant interrupts us.

" Sir we have to go or we`ll be late for tonight's event" Jungwoo`s assistant clearly said for the both of us to hear.

"Shall we princess?" He smiles teasingly and I hate it. But I also find comfort in it.

"Oh, come on Woo stop with the pet names and let`s go" Slapping his arms playfully we go straight to Jungwoo`s car going to the Gala. It only takes a minute to arrive. Jungwoo immediately go outside of the car to open it for me and a thousand of lights flicking and clicking towards our direction. and Jung-woo shield me from it before walking in the red carpet we post while his arms are wrapped around my waist. Tomorrow the both of us will be surely the hit topic on social media and magazines almost in all newspaper headlines. Because they all know about our public relationship how it works out and how it ended.

I go inside the building with Jungwoo beside me and I see our group of friends waving at us and we approached them. I heard a whistle from Lucas and Yuqi my best friend. They started dating weeks ago, Lucas is Jaehyun`s best friend and Yuqi is my long-time friend just like Yoona.

"You look sexy tonight babe" Yuqi honestly said and all of them agreed. I`m  kinda shock that Lucas and Jungwoo know each other, almost all of them know each other.

Y`all are having fun talking to each other or whoever approach our table. Every minute, different Ceo. My friends notice that almost all of them is flirting with me but I shrugged it off and go on with having fun when the atmosphere suddenly changes. I turn around only to see Jaehyun approaching our table. He looks good tonight his hair is neatly done, the tuxedo that his wearing fits him well. Jungwoo notices the way that I look at Jaehyun. I used to look at him like that too. Sometimes he wonders what if he didn`t leave and break your heart? maybe I will still gonna be his.

-*-

Jaehyun is looking at you without thinking about others. He just wants to hug you, kiss you, and feel you on his body. But this day guilt is been washing all over his body that`s why he's trying to distance himself from you and he feels sorry for that but knowing that you go here with Jungwoo, makes him feels some kind of things that might not help in this kind of situation.

"Yow, what`s up dude?" mark happily greets him and invited him to sit he also knows what`s going on between the two of you. 

"Where`s Yerim?" Seulgi asks while the others shift their attention to Seulgi and Jaehyun, yeah you`re curious to where is Yerim? doesn`t she come here with jaehyun?

"She`s in the restroom" Jaehyun replies to them they ask him more things but he can only think about you, do you think about him too? the answer is probably yes but you can`t bring yourself to look at him you`re scared that you might cry in front of them and your pride will not let you.

"Hi babe sorry I need to go to the restroom and leave you alone" and that`s when Jaehyun finally talks normally and not dryly he`s usually not like this towards his friend but tonight is really different.

-*-

"It's okay baby come and sit here with me" my group of friends cheers for them playfully and that`s when I finally look at him with jealousy burning in my eyes. Everyone suddenly stops cheering realizing what`s going on between the two of us. Jaehyun smirked at me and this time I hate it. he wants to play a game? then let`s play.

I didn`t hesitate to roll my eyes at him and I turn to my side to face Jungwoo who is now in his 5th drink.

"Baby slow down you`re getting tipsy" I know that Jung-woo has a high alcohol tolerance but the show must go on. 

"I`m fine baby don't worry" Jungwoo only grins at me making you soft. When he suddenly gave you a peck on the lips, and you gave him one too. Oh, I know how much Jaehyun hates hearing somebody else calls me baby. Because he`s the only one who called me that. 

"Hey, you two if you`re going to get back together then don`t make it long! just do it." Yoona said making Yuqi, and Seulgi coo with their boyfriend. Jaehyun hates how you blush with their sudden statement but little did you know everyone is doing it on purpose so that Jaehyun can get jealous.

Jungwoo whispers in my ears, asking me if I wanna go home too but I hesitate.

"If you`re uncomfortable right now, I can take you home" I hesitantly look around and you see everyone talking about business, and you look at Jaehyun to only see him avoiding Yerim`s touch. My plan work I thought so I decided it`s better if I let Jungwoo take me home.

"Guys we`re going home now” Jungwoo and me bid our Goodbye to them and other businessmen in the party.

"okay, make sure you drive well Jungwoo if anything happens to my best friend I`ll kill you" Yuqi said before the both of us go outside to Jungwoo`s car.

We arrive at my house and I thank Jungwoo for helping me out tonight, and for driving me home. I don`t know why, but I`m excited to know if anything will happen tonight.

I go to my room to change into my night sleepwear. Silk shorts and an over size shirt to make me comfortable.

 Someone suddenly loudly knocks in the door making you startled.

"who`s there!?" 

"Just fucking open the door Mayjun!"

I hear his voice and that`s enough to know who he is. Opening the door a soft pair of lips land to mine kissing me roughly as if there's no tomorrow for it.

“Jaehyun stop! I`m tired!” I tried to push him but he`s stronger than me. He pinned me to the wall harshly, leaving wet kisses on my neck.

"Do you think ignoring me is fun!?" Silence.

"Do you think making me jealous with your  jerk ex is fun huh!?" Silence.

"Talk to me for Fuck sake! Don`t give me cold shoulders, look at me just once. Fuck just fuck this!" and that is my breaking point I can`t stand this argument anymore.

"I already told you Jaehyun that I`m tired so what`s the point of arguing here!?" am i scared? yes, I`m scared of him when he`s mad but I can`t let him win this time. He look so hot when he's mad but I can set that aside.

"Why does he already fuck you that`s why you`re tired?" He`s really mad now. No, he`s furious right now. He has said a hurtful and harsh word to me in the past but he never degrade me like this. I can`t let him belittle and look down on me. With the power I had, I slap him.

"You`re always like this when you`re jealous but today!? I don`t even know you, you only call for me whenever you need me. And when you need someone to comfort you or to fulfill your needs. I`m not you`re fucking toy Jaehyun!" I finally cried out and I said the unspoken words to him but at this point, he doesn`t know what to feel anymore he let his anger took over him.

"So what do you want me to do? always go to you!? for fuck sake we don`t even have a label Mayjun wake up! I have a girlfriend and you know that. You`re just someone I know who can fulfill my needs" He yells at me making me break into tears more.

"So that`s what I am to you? someone who can just fulfill your needs?"  you yell back and now I don`t even know what to do. I need to confirm something and his answer is what I need.

"T-tell me have you ever love me!?" I whispered timidly.

"I`ve never loved you not even once!" Those words coming out of his beautiful lips like nothing ever happened between the two of us.

"Leave! I hate you!" My tears starts falling from my eyes. I`ve never felt this broken before but the one and only Jung Jaehyun made you feel like your heart is shattered into pieces.

"If I didn`t make a move on you that night you`ll probably not gonna figure out that the girlfriend you love cheated on you first." his eyes widen in shock.

"Say that again!" 

"I said what I said Jaehyun, now leave!" He turned around and slam the door shut.

 -*-

He`s really sorry and guilty for what he said to you during the argument. All of that? he didn`t mean it and knowing that his girlfriend cheated on him first makes him sadder. That night the both of you spend the cold night without each other embrace crying all night silently. 

-*-

I should have listened to what my friend already warned me. But I`m thankful for them for supporting me after finding out that Yerim is not as good as we think.

Meanwhile, Jaehyun is crying his eyes and heart out in the middle of the night he`s blaming his self for hurting you.

 "I'm such an asshole!" He groaned and run his finger through his hair. 

he regrets all the things he said to you he cry and cry just like you. He throws all the things that he grabs on the floor making his hands bleed. But he could care less. There`s only one thing that he knows, he will get you back no matter what it takes. that night he called Yerim and break up with her.

-*-

It's been three days and I let my secretary do the works while I`m gone. A one-week break won`t hurt anyone when I`m the the one hurting right?

"Yoona can you please come to my place right now? I really need you right now" I try hard to hide my sob making Yoona concern but what can she do? she`s in the Maldives right now arranging her wedding with Johnny.

"Babe I`m sorry, I know you can overcome it. You`re a strong person Mayjun and you know it too. I`m sorry that I`m not on your side right to comfort you, I have to go Mayjun please eat well and take care of yourself the wedding is in a few days I love you!" and the line got disconnected even though Yoona is away from me she always makes sure that I`m okay. 

Suddenly the door of your room opens widely.

"Please didn`t I tell you that I want to be alone!" Not bothering to turn around because you thought that it was your brother Seojun.

 But no, the person who enters my room suddenly pulls me into a tight hug whispering comforting words to my ears. I know it`s Jungwoo he always does this when I need comfort. Without hesitating I let my emotions come out because I know that Jungwoo will not judge me.

"H-how?" I ask him between my sobs.

"Shh... Yoona called me and told me everything. It`ll be fine Mayjun I`m here" Jungwoo pats my back back softly to make me comfortable.

"J-Jung-woo why? am I not worthy enough to be loved? why do they always leave me?" 

"Hey, princess listen you`re beautiful, you`re worthy. I`m sorry for hurting you, I`m sorry that we hurt you" He kissed the top of my head and he let me fall asleep on his arms. 

A soft smile is written all over his face, he hopes that no one will hurt you anymore. He knows that you love Jaehyun dearly even though it hurts him he will help you get back together.

-*-

 6 days already passed and Jaehyun can`t focus on his work. You`re all he could think about he knows that he can see you on the wedding day but were you ready to face him? he`s scared that you might not even let him get close to you. so he keeps himself from working and working until he's exhausted.

Me on the other side is getting ready for my flight I will go there with Yuqi, Lucas and all of Nct members. It`s what they called the group, group of young tech CEO and one of the finest and richest men in South Korea.

"You don`t need to be nervous Mayjun. We`re here don`t worry" Yuta smile at me reassuringly. I sighed and after a long flight we headed to our designated car taking you to a beautiful beach. 

“You should enjoy this day Mayjun, you need to relax” I said and to myself. I hear my brother Seojun calling me from afar. And yeah, he`s still single is he?

I look around and I make eye contact with whom I want to see from the start but can`t admit it. I quickly look away, I try to find Yoona only to see her at her hotel room. Y`all girls are in the same room and it makes me feel at ease. 

"I think we should get wasted tonight!" Seulgi said happily and we agree with the idea. 

"We should celebrate before the wedding because this is the last day that we will call you Ms. Im. Because tomorrow you`re gonna be Mrs. Suh" I wink at her and y`all agree with the idea. So I change my clothes, I wear a sundress before going out with the girls and I avoid any interaction with Jaehyun.

-*-

"Johnny, do you think she will forgive me?" Jaehyun asks his friend while looking up in the sky feeling the cold breeze.

"Jaehyun I know what you did is wrong but let`s hope that she will forgive you just give her sometimes" Johnny then pats Jaehyun`s shoulder before giving him a small smile. 

"I have a plan and I`m determined to do this but I need your help" said Jaehyun.

Jaehyun then tells all the boys his plan for tomorrow and they`re more glad to help him out because they can see and feel how you love each other dearly.

-*-

It`s past midnight and  and the other girls are still having fun dancing and drinking until we get wasted. I drink a lot compared to them and they try to stop me but I just keep on dancing until all the girls got drunk. 

 Johnny suddenly realize that y`all are in the club and the boys got worried so they try to find y`all. Only to find all of us dancing like a sexy goddess, they hate how other men stare at my hips.

"Jaehyun you get Mayjun. Me, Lucas, and Mark will get them" Johnny goes to Yoona to cover her with his jacket and the others do the same.

"Oh, guys look it`s Jaehyun! doesn`t he look so handsome?" I grin at them making them laugh because I`m really not myself right now.

"Yeah, it` me now let`s go you need to take some rest" He clung me into his arms and I hug him tightly as I could. "Baby I can` breathe"

"Let`s stay like this for a minute please." I softly said.

"I miss you, you know every day I`m always thinking about you" I said while my  eyes are floating in tears. Making them all silent they just let me because they know how badly I was hurt. Yuqi, Yoona, and Seulgi is sobber now but here I am are crying in front of them.

"I miss you so much, my day is not complete without thinking of you. Everything reminds me of you even though you hurt me even though you didn`t love me I`m so thankful that I met you" I said weakly while softly caressing his face, tears is visible on his eyes too.

"No, all I said to you was a lie since the day that I met you I`m ready to risk everything for you that`s when I realize that cheating is my choice thank you for completing half of me thank you for letting me know that she cheated on me first I Love You so much Mayjun" I slowly nod at everything he explained to me and I gave him a peck on his lips.

 He wish, no, everyone wishes that you will remember all of this tomorrow. Your friends can`t help it that they start to tear up too.

It`s 6:00 am now and here I am comforting and thanking Yoona for staying by my side and I tell her not to get nervous.

"Yoona it`s okay you`ve been waiting for this, this is one of your biggest dreams and it came true now I`m so happy for you" I hug her as I admire her in her dress she looks beautiful and she always does.

_*_

On the other side of the room, there are the boys who are super chaotic they`re laughing and teasing Jaehyun and Johnny because of what happened last night but deep inside they`re so proud of each other.

"You`re getting married now Johnny I can`t believe it. And you`re marrying Yoona the woman of your life" Ten said while proudly smiling at him 

"Jung Jaehyun you better take care of Mayjun or else you know what will gonna happen" Jungwoo and Seojun said in unison they`re laughing at how they`re thinking the same thing.

"Hyung I`m the one who is supposed to say it!" Jungwoo said and Seojun only rolled his eyes at him.

"I heard you and Chaewon are dating" Jungwoo said making Seojun widen his eyes. He`s supposed to say it after the wedding but Jungwoo already said it.

"Kim Jungwoo you bastard!" Seojun glare at Jungwoo making everyone laugh in the room.

_*_

You may now kiss the bride. 

Y`all cheered for Johnny and Yoona when Yuta said. 

"G-guys J-jaehyun he got into an accident" Yuta is breathing heavily while saying it and I feel like my whole world stop.

" What!? How!?" I said.

 Concern is creeping up on my body. Yuta ask us to follow him and I run as fast as I can, I don`t really know where we`re going but I just keep following him. I want to see Jaehyun safe.

I run and run until I a see flower petals scattered in the sand with candles lighting the place up and I can`t help but to tear up. I turn around and I see my group of friends standing happily while holding a balloon that`s forming a word saying " Will you marry me"

And that`s when Jaehyun finally showed up while holding a bouquet of flower giving it to me while I cry, smiling at him he kneels in front of me and I cover my lips with my hands. I can`t help it but tears of joy are coming out from my eyes right now.

"Mayjun I know I hurt you, I know I said that I don`t love you but the truth is I`m scared. I`m scared that time that if I tell you my real feelings you will not love me back but I'm so fool to even think about your feelings. Now that I`m here and ready to give you more than my everything and stay with you" Jaehyun takes a deep breath to take more courage.

"Han Mayjun I Jung Jaehyun is asking you Will you marry me?" Jaehyun asks me wholeheartedly. And who am I to say no? when all of our friends are rooting for the both of us?

"Yes, Yes Jaehyun I`ll marry you" He put the diamond ring on my finger and he finally stands up and he spoon me around.

" I LOVE YOU JUNG JAEHYUN" I shout happily while showing my finger to my friends and they clap. 

They stand there proudly looking at us, This will not happen if they`re not here by our side. Strangers who watch the scene clap along with them and that`s how my story with Jung Jaaehyun starts again.

Always remember this "Everyone has a friend during each stage of life. But only lucky ones have the same friends in all stages of life.”

and that`s how Mayjun and Jaehyun with their friend life goes on.

[writertitan]

Midnight

pairing: eren x reader

themes: modern au, new year’s eve, angsty if you squint

A chorus of cheers erupted almost as soon as you crossed the threshold of Sasha’s home, though from the clinks and clatters of glass and the smell of bourbon, you could tell that the cheers were in celebration of something other than your unnoticed arrival.  

“Welcome!” Sasha greeted you with a warm smile and bright eyes, tugging you further into her equally warm and bright house, where everyone was already a little tipsy, a little rowdy. You didn’t want to look visibly nervous, but there you were, shoulders up to your ears and eyes shifting back and forth, looking for that mess of dark hair, those green eyes that pierced through you and everyone else. You nearly jumped when Sasha’s whisper danced into your ear. “Don’t worry, he’s not here and I don’t think he’ll show up.” 

“I wasn’t looking for him,” you mumbled, a little indignant, and then rolled your eyes when you saw Sasha’s knowing smirk. “I just don’t want things to be awkward, Sasha. It’s been months since we’ve even seen each other, let alone been in the same space all night. I guess I’m just...a little worried. Well, I was. Are you sure he’s not coming?” 

“Doubt it,” she says, that smirk still plastered on her face. “Why? Does that make you saaaad?” 

“Shut up,” you groaned, but you yanked on her ponytail playfully to let her know you weren’t upset as you walked past her, ready to pour some bourbon for yourself to ease your nerves. 

I’ll have to catch up, you thought to yourself with a grin as Connie raised his half-full glass to your full one, a silly laugh escaping him as you clink your glass to his. 

“Happy new year! Almost!” he nearly shouted before downing the last of his drink in a swift gulp. You tried to follow his pace, always competitive with him, but ended up coughing up some bourbon. Connie laughed instantly, and you could faintly hear Jean laughing as well, which made you glare at the two of them through watered-up eyes, stinging from the liquor. 

“Loser, can’t even hold your bourbon in and you just barely showed up!” Jean laughed, wiggling his almost empty cup in your face, as if to show off his own progress. 

Instead of verbally retaliating, you took another sip and spat it out at him, bursting out into laughter this time with the shout of surprise that came out of his mouth. 

“When are you gonna learn to leave me alone, huh?” you said, snickering and secretly giving Connie a high-five. Evidently, you weren’t going to be needing to drink too much to calm your nerves. You downed the rest of your drink anyway, mostly to piss Jean off and show Connie your two-person drinking game was on. With each drained glass, you felt yourself get looser and warmer, felt the world get a little whirlier, and you found yourself even looking forward to the new year, despite having to leave some things -- and some people -- behind. 

No, you promised yourself you wouldn’t think about that, you thought to yourself again, shaking your head as if to shake the thoughts out. Unfortunately, the shaking made things go a little dizzy, and you bumped into a table to steady yourself. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, setting down your glass and rubbing your forehead. All this drinking was going to be a bitch in the morning, and the discomfort of your intoxication was already getting to you. Even steadying yourself on the table the dizziness didn’t let up, the whirling didn’t stop, and the alcohol churned in your body, that familiar nausea finally surfacing. 

“Oh shit, she’s gonna blow.” 

Whoever had said that should have counted their lucky stars you were too drunk to do anything but stumble to Sasha’s bathroom, but you figured it was stupid Connie, eager to win your drinking game yet again. You shut the bathroom door behind you and took a deep breath, kneeling in front of the toilet and leaning onto your side to use the wall as support, your cheek hitting its cool surface. You didn’t actually think you were going to throw up, but you’d been wrong about these things before, and it was better to be safe than sorry. A knock at the door made you snap your head over too quickly, the dizziness almost being the catalyst for that awful nausea to finally bubble over into the toilet, but you kept your composure. You heard your name being called on the other side of the door, and something about the voice seemed familiar…

“Hold on,” you slurred, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath. I won’t puke, I’m not gonna puke, nope, nope, nope…

Your name was called again, this time clearer and more easily heard above the reverberating music and chatter of everyone else still partying. “C’mon, open the door.” You didn’t answer, finally recognizing the voice, your heart stuttering and fighting in your ribcage. No way. “Alright, since you’re not answering, I’m coming in.”

“No!” But it was too late. Your vision swam as Eren’s figure stepped into the cramped bathroom with you, quietly shutting the door behind him before kneeling in front of you. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn that his eyes were clouded with concern for you. But you did know better. 

“Jesus, are you okay?” he whispered, careful to keep his voice low. 

“What are you doing here? Sasha said you weren’t coming!” you whined, slumping over the toilet. You flinched when you felt a warm hand on your back, and when he registered the flinch, he promptly pulled his hand away. You didn’t know which action hurt you more. 

“Changed my mind,” Eren answered simply. You could almost hear the casual shrug of his shoulders. 

You said nothing, squeezing your eyes shut and willing this to be a nasty dream. The booze had loosened you up and made you forget about Eren for the night, comforted in the thought of him not showing up. Now it was coaxing out your fears and your innermost conflicts. Drunk you wanted to lash out, to bring up those painful topics, but the tiniest sliver of the sober you was still screaming and fighting for your silence. It worked; Eren waited for you to speak, to say something, anything, but spoke up again when he realized you wouldn’t. 

“I’m probably the last person you want to be around, but just let me stay and make sure you don’t choke on your own puke,” he mumbled. The words made you sit up again and glare at him, though the glassy look in your eyes didn’t do well to intimidate him. In fact, it made him smile at you. “What, you think I don’t remember how you get when you drink too much? I’m surprised you haven’t been barfing your guts out this entire time.” 

“I’m not going to barf,” you growled, trying feebly to kick him away. Was the alcohol fucking you up even more than it already had? You felt more intoxicated now. Your senses were going wild and you felt bleary, heavy, like your center of gravity was changing, like your orbit was off. Instead of being focused at your core, it had seeped out elsewhere, making you lean away from the wall and closer to...

No. Drunk you was going to be the death of sober you. 

“Eren, I’m fine. Go have fun,” you whispered, not daring to look at him. In fact, you hadn’t looked directly at him this whole time. You recoiled from him and slumped against the wall, finally chancing a look his way. 

He was beautiful. Always beautiful, but especially tonight. He hadn’t given a damn about dressing up like everyone else, which was classic Eren, and that’s what made him look perfect. The careless bun at the nape of his neck, the ripped jeans, his favorite tattered sweatshirt with his band’s name stamped on it. Purposefully unkempt, as you’d often told him in the past. The past...where you’d once been together. 

“It’s not much better out there. I saw you run in here when I was walking in and wanted to make sure you were doing better than Connie. He’s outside throwing up over the porch, and don’t even get me started on Sasha,” Eren said, rolling his eyes. His gaze was gentle when he looked back at you. “I’ll have a better time in here with you.” 

Your breath hitched at the words. This wasn’t actually happening. You weren’t going to let yourself believe it. 

“You don’t have to be nice to me. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me,” you blurted out. Finally, the words that had been dying to come out. Drunk you was absolutely going to be the death of sober you.

This made Eren speechless, for once. His eyes widened for a moment and you could tell the wheels were turning in his head.

“You’re too wasted for me to have an actual conversation with you,” he decided with a sigh, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. Both of you remembered at that moment when it was you fixing his hair, pushing it out of his face. 

“Am not!” you tried to argue, flinging the nostalgia away and replacing it with your haughty attitude. Eren remembered that too well, the attitude always coming out after too many drinks. “If you have something to say to me, I suggest you say it.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

The words hung in the air between you. Two throats choked up, two pairs of eyes locked, and two hearts ached and called out for each other. 

Your bottom lip trembled when the shame overcame you, pushing you back against the wall to put distance between yourself and Eren. All those months of being good, of avoiding him, of blocking him everywhere, of doing everything to keep moving on...it couldn’t crumble like this. 

“Why did you do it?” you asked meekly, praying the tears that burned your eyes would go away. You looked at your lap, feeling dead sober now. 

Eren didn’t know how to answer the question. How could he tell you that he had done it to save you from the heaviness in him after everything that had happened with his family? He was broken and refused to drag you down with him. He wasn’t good enough. He had needed to find the strength to get better without you, because that wasn’t fair to you to have to shoulder the burden. He’d never ask that of you. 

And now you were in front of him, but you were too drunk to comprehend anything he’d try to voice out. 

“I didn’t do it because I stopped...loving you,” was all he could say, “I just thought that hurting you like that was better than hurting you like I would have if I’d been selfish enough to put you through all my heavy shit. And when I realized you had cut me off and that you were avoiding me, I wanted to give you space.” 

You began to speak, reaching out for him, a blaze of fire in your eyes, and Eren knew what was coming. He stopped you by cupping his hand over your mouth, chuckling when you froze in surprise. 

“If I promise I’ll be right there next to you tomorrow morning so we can talk, will you promise to wait to yell at me until then?” he whispered. 

You slumped your shoulders in silent resignation and nodded, the feeling of his touch overwhelming your senses. You had missed him. Even just the playful touch of his hand on your mouth to silence you was enough to make your body heat up. When he took it away, you felt cold. 

“There’s just about two minutes left until midnight…” Eren started, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. His gaze was averted, but you saw the way he kept looking at you out of the corner of his eye as you both got up, him helping you get back on your feet. 

You smiled and tried to fight the blush that crept onto your cheeks as your hand found his, the warmth spreading over you again when he squeezed your fingers. Neither of you let go. 

“You’re not gonna make me start the new year alone, are you?” you teased him, and the familiar glint in those green eyes made your heart swell. 

“You’re not gonna puke on me, right?” he countered, laughing quietly when you hit his chest. He let you lean on him for support after sitting down for so long, but you refused to believe you were still a little tipsy. Walking out of the bathroom, your eyes blinked to adjust from the difference of lighting from the harsh fluorescents of the bathroom to the dim fairy lights adorning the hallway. 

“There’s gonna be fireworks outside at midnight. Wanna watch with me?” you asked, fighting back the shyness that made you fumble your words. Eren nodded almost immediately, an arm locked around your waist as you guided him to Sasha’s bedroom where all the coats were sprawled out on her bed. The lights were off but you didn’t turn them on, in too much of a hurry and too distracted by Eren’s presence behind you. You grabbed which one you thought was yours and started pulling it on, but perked up with Eren when the drunken chorus of your friends’ voices rang out. 

“TEN, NINE, EIGHT, SEVEN…”

You didn’t want to leave Eren behind. You wanted him next to you when the morning rose for the first day of a new year. You wanted to get closer and closer to him as your friends counted down the seconds from the living room. You wanted your lips on his at midnight. 

He wanted the same. 

His breath was warm on your face as you pressed up against him, the familiarity of your stance no longer bruising your heart, but balming it. Your hands were on his shoulders, fingers dancing up to caress his jaw, to subtly pull his face closer to yours. His hands glided down your sides until they found their favorite place at the small of your back. Your noses touched and he nudged yours playfully with his to get a smile out of you, your hearts both beating frantically. Even in the dark, hardly any light coming in, your bodies had found each other naturally, like nothing had changed. 

“TWO, ONE...HAPPY NEW YEAR!!” 

You could hear phone alarms going off, then fireworks, as your lips pressed to Eren’s. It wasn’t the booze making you feel lightheaded anymore. It was the softness of the boy’s lips, and the way he automatically pulled you in closer. The hair that had fallen out of his bun tickled your face and made you smile into the kiss, which made him mirror your actions. The fireworks outside boomed and crackled as Eren deepened your kiss, a hand moving up to cup your cheek gingerly. Your hands moved to push his hair away from his face, an action that was so familiar to the both of you that it left both of you breathless, and only then did you pull away from the kiss. 

“Happy new year,” you whispered in his ear, a dreamy smile playing on your lips as Eren’s continued to find your skin, not even close to being done kissing you. He wanted to memorize every inch of you all over again. The curve of your neck, the softness of your cheek, the tip of your nose. How he’d survived all this time without you was a fluke, a stroke of luck. It was impossible to go another day without at least seeing your face. He’d needed to see you and he was glad he’d come even if just out of hope that you might have been at the party too. 

“Happy new year,” Eren whispered into the crook of your neck, your name mumbled into your skin. When you both eventually pulled away from each other, he took your hand in his to guide you out, mumbling something about not wanting to miss the fireworks. You knew that him proudly holding your hand in front of your friends may have been a contributing factor in rushing you out. 

“Hey,” you said as you made your way to the front door, a devilish grin on your lips. “Did you say that Connie was losing it on the porch?” 

Eren nodded with a roll of his eyes, pulling you into his side. “Yep. Careful, his splash zone’s pretty gnarly.” 

You laughed loudly, almost a cackle, a glint in your eye as you tugged Eren outside with you. Connie was still slumped over the porch railing, looking delirious. 

“Hey, Connie! I won this time! And you say you can always drink me under the table, but I didn’t even throw up!” 

“Shut the hell up or else I’ll puke all over you.” 

“Whatever. Happy new year! Wait, is that Sasha eating snow?”

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Kenna (Ivar’s PoV)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Kenna: to know (a person), to feel (Old Norse)

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This one correlates to somewhere before chapter 29, it is the scene I promised in Ảγαπάω where the reader gets...tipsy.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: The usual, mentions of alcohol, a tipsy reader. This is a more light-hearted chapter than usual, hope you don’t mind!

A/N: It’s been a while since I’ve posted an Ivar PoV! Hope I haven’t lost it lol

Alternate titles to this were aptann (”an evening” in Old Norse), dýrr (”dear, valuable” in Old Norse) and I have too much fun writing Ivar’s brain shortcircuit (”the truth” in English).

Thank you for reading! I love you!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​​ @heavenly1927​​ @toe-vind-ek-jou​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​ @pieces-by-me​​ @angelofthorr​​ @samsationalwilson​​ @peachyboneless​​ @1950schick​​ @punkrocknpearls​​ @ietss​​   @itsmysticalmystery​​ @revolution-starter​​ @chibisgotovalhalla​​

To him the music is foreign, the men are, the languages exchanged are. But Ivar notices in all the chaos that isn’t Viking or Greek or Arab, but a strange blend of all of it, you seem the most at home.

Some of Hvitserk’s trusted merchants from the Mediterranean are leaving for the winter, and it was only appropriate to grant them a feast to thank their work and the time spent here.

An Abbasid man is sitting on one of the tables, his knee marking the rhythm of a song his countrymen are playing with their strange instruments. A shieldmaiden sits next to him and with an instrument that looks like two bells joined together starts trying to learn their music, earning cheers and laughs.

Ivar notices you cover your mouth with your hand, eyes shining in joy as you watch.

The man sings, and it sounds joyful and celebratory even if Ivar cannot understand a single word he speaks.

It seems you do, and it seems the Abbasid knows so, because the man gestures to the whole room with his hand, before pointing to you and singing something that makes you smile in a way only Ivar was able to before.

It irks him more than it should, even as your weight leans on his arm and you remain at his side, that that man made you so happy with but a few words.

He wants to know what those words were, he wants to know what he said.

Before he can ask you a woman in colorful clothes approaches with her dark eyes set on you and a welcoming smile on her lips. You greet her with once again words Ivar cannot understand, but the woman shakes her head.

“I’m…learning. Norse. Please.” She nods for emphasis, and Ivar watches your smile become even warmer at the woman’s words.

When the woman -finally- takes her eyes off his wife and greets him with a bow of her head, Ivar only motions for her to take a seat, which she does.

Next to you.

He doesn’t know how to feel about these people’s fascination with you.

With a hand on your chest you tell the woman your name, and she answers with the same. And in between fragments of the language Ivar doesn’t understand, you engage in conversation with her, laughing and smiling and forgetting he is sitting right there.

He resents the part of him that so easily grows frustrated when he sees someone else win easily the affection he had to fight for, but he cannot help it.

You did tell him that you are more of yourself with him than anyone else. And, he gathers, softness is what they all want from you, so it is what you give. But he wants all of you, and he knows that in all your fire and your arrogance you give him exactly that. Ivar dares believe any softness you share with him is much more than any you grant the others, because it is always accompanied by that uneven smile on your lips, that emotion written in your eyes, that particular cadence of your voice when you say his name.

It still bothers him, he won’t deny it. How easily you embrace Freydis, or how freely you laugh with Hvitserk, or how light and gentle you are as you share stories with the woman that sits next to you.

Still, he stays silent, keeping his eyes on the woman that doesn’t seem to be intimidated, who seems not even interested in acknowledging he is there.

Hvitserk takes a seat next to him and starts talking about how the preparation for Strepshire fares, and it distracts him for long enough that the night progresses, the people grow drunker and louder.

Your little gaggle of women with whom you continue to share laughs and stories grows larger too, and Ivar notices you drink much more mead than you use to as you talk and get to know them.

He is arguing with his brother about some pointless detail of the city when Hvitserk’s eyes focus behind Ivar, on you and the women, prompting him silently to turn his attention to them and you.

“Him,” One woman asks, pointing towards Ivar, “Your work.”

“No, I won’t be blamed for that.” You reply without hesitation, and Ivar rolls his eyes.

“Very funny.” He deadpans. Your smile when you turn to him is devious, and he hears Hvitserk laughing somewhere at his side.

As if in apology, or because you notice the way Ivar grits his teeth and narrows his eyes, you intertwine his fingers with yours, bring the joined hands to your lap before you return your attention to the Arab woman.

She turns almost sheepish at her mistake, and motions for her hair, explaining without words.

“Ah,” You accept, but still shake your head, “No, I’m only familiar with war braids. I could never make them look so pretty.”

Ivar turns once again to you, and tries finding your gaze but you are focused on explaining with too many hand gestures how you braided your mother’s hair.

He feels Hvitserk lean closer to him, almost shoulder to shoulder.

“Did…did she just call you pretty, brother?”

____

You call for his attention silently, in a manner you’ve taken a liking for it seems. Your chin rests on his shoulder, your breaths testing at the skin of his neck, your tantalizing lips so close if he would just turn his head...

He feels your eyes on his, out of the corner of his eye he can see the wide smile on your lips.

“What.” He asks, unsettled by the way your focus seems to be solely on his face.

“You’re so handsome,” You mutter dreamily, “I am a very lucky woman, aren’t I?”

That surely makes him pause, and Ivar clears his throat. He focuses his eyes on the horn of mead in his hand, tries thinking on what he can say to that.

A pathetic and weak part of him preens at the praise, and he almost wants to ask to hear more. The same warm rush of something runs through him at the knowledge that maybe, just maybe, you want him as much as he wants you.

When you lift your hand as if to touch his face, Ivar doesn’t think before he lifts his own hands and traps yours, stopping you. After a moment he realizes what he did and finds himself stupidly missing the touch.

But you don’t seem to think much of it, and instead put your joined hands under your chin and smile at him.

Months ago Ivar learned you don’t truly realize how much you talk, how much you share. And he learns now that you talk and share even more when you’ve had too much mead.

“When we met, across…across that battlefield, you were covered in blood,” You chuckle, breathy and light as if you weren’t speaking of war and death, “So was I, I think.”

“You bit off a piece of a man’s arm.” Is what Ivar offers as response, and he can still recall you in his mind, eyes fierce and determined, a scream of rage bubbling past parted lips, your teeth sinking into weak flesh and the blood dripping down your lips.

Almost impossible to believe that the same woman he saw drive an arrow into a man’s eye with nothing but her hands, her hands covered in blood and a snarl on her lips; is the same one that sits at his side with big eyes honest and set on his, her fingers intertwined with his own and her lips pulled into a soft and gentle smile.

“You spared my life,” You continue, after a breath questioning, “Do you think the Gods made you?” You laugh again, still light but almost daring when you turn your eyes to him, “Or were you bewitched, Ivar?”

“Alright,” Ivar grunts, releasing your hand so he can stand up and once he does offering it to you again. “That’s enough.”

When you take his hand and stand up as well, Ivar starts the trek to your room, trying to ignore the warmth you send through him still with just the touch of your hand, or the way you almost make him falter when you skip a few steps to walk right beside him and press a kiss against his arm, as high as you can reach.

“You drank a lot for someone so-…”

“Don’t say small.”

“Small. But I can’t say I am not entertained seeing you drunk.”

You giggle. Ivar stops, and turns around only to catch you looking at him with your free hand over your mouth and your eyes shining in mirth.

He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you giggle before, and it makes him smile against his own will.

Adorable wouldn’t be a word he ever thought he’d use to describe his wife, but this night surely makes a good argument for it.

Still, he leads you both to your room and watches from the door he closes behind him as you go through the motions of preparing for bed with a lightness to you that he hasn’t seen before.

You seem to remember something, because you turn to Ivar and walk to him with certain steps, your eyes set stubbornly on his.

“Oh, and I am not drunk.” You argue, smile still blinding. Ivar sighs, and when you refuse to turn around, reaches around you and starts working on the laces of your dress. He knows he’s closer to you than he usually gets to be, but you don’t step away like you usually do. And if you do notice he is close enough he almost feels your chest pressing against his, he will blame it on needing to reach around you to get the laces of the dress.

“What are you, then?” He asks, if only to humor you. And to get your slightly intimidating, even if very much wanted, attention off of him.

Your smile almost hints at sadness when you grant him a gentle caress of his cheek, your hand soft and warm. His hand freezes on your back.

It still makes him tense, makes something in his chest pull tight, when you touch him like that, when you look at him like that.

“I’m happy.” You confess, stealing the breath from his lungs. He cannot help searching your eyes, waiting for you to hide behind something, to retreat somehow, to take this from him.

But you offer a shrug, hopeless and a little scared.

Ivar stays still as your eyes flicker to his mouth, breaths stopping when your hand falls to his shoulder.

You use your hand on him to find purchase, and stand on the tips of your toes.

You press a kiss against the corner of his mouth, a barely-there touch that still makes his eyes fall shut, still makes him feel like for a moment he loses control of everything, still makes him want. And Ivar feels the wood of his crutch creak under his hand as he forces himself not to chase after your mouth, your touch.

“Goodnight, Ivar.” You whisper, your smile uneven and your eyes a little clearer.

He nods, swallowing past a suddenly dry throat, and he likes to think he repeats the sentiment back to you before you silently walk to bed and slip under the furs.

He stands there for a few moments too long, unable to take his eyes off you, warm and safe and happy -you said you were, and you don’t lie, you’d never lie to him and…Gods, you are happy with him, a part of him doesn’t still believe it- on the bed you share with him.

And he cannot help the pang of bitterness, of anger, of resentment at Fate and the Gods and it all.

Because you are there, and since the beginning you always were everything he’s ever wanted, and now you’re warm and his in the bed you share and…and it isn’t enough. It is still not what he wanted.

Because even if he isn’t seeing things, even if it is true that sometimes you’re as close to giving in as he is; he is still living on borrowed time, he is still no better suited to fight for you than that Greek fool that he saw Hvitserk kill.

Because he knows what your choice will be when the time comes, when Stithulf dies. Or…he thinks he knows.

You said you were happy. Here. With him.

It is childish and pathetic to feel hope, he knows this. But as he moves back to the main hall where the feast still goes on, he finds himself unable to ignore it, or get his heart back under his control.

____

This isn’t my best work but then again to me none of my work is my best work lol. I hope me not being sure about this chapter is just my insecurity and not it actually being off, idk.

Hope you liked it! Thank you so much for reading!

[your-daily-biaswrecking]

Serva me, Servabo te

save me and I will save you

pairing: photographer!Taehyung x f.reader

genre: angst, smut, slight enemies to lovers

word count: 7.3k  |  reading time: 40 min

chapter summary: flash backs clear the mystery of their first encounter, they fight over it, and then things get a bit heavier

warnings: there’s finally some sexy stuff going on yall, alcohol usage, metions of cheating, some dirty talk ig, some not very fluffy smut, almost angry fucking, dubious I’d say, fingering f.receiving, oral f.receiving, kinda dom!Tae, name calling kink? idk

All chapters  |  Masterlist  |  Read on AO3

Chapter 5: Irresistible urges of the past

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 7:35 pm

The party was Yoonji's idea but you never complained. Well, okay, you complained a little bit. But that was only when you heard the approximate number of guests that had been invited so far and argued your small, shared apartment would probably collapse from the total weight in it. You offered to move the function over to the bar down the street, but apparently, that's not a house-warming party.

"How on earth are so many people coming, anyway? We have, like, five friends at most. And that is including the lunch lady."

Yoonji gave you those puppy eyes. "Well, actually, Jimin just made an Instagram story to get the word out, not thinking many would wanna come," she mumbled under her breath, almost like she was trying to avoid giving you the explanation. "But it turns out ever since that video he did, lots and lots of people wanna be his friend now."

You exhaled hard, making a pathetic sound. "You gave the guy you've only been seeing for a couple of weeks permission to invite people to our party?"

She pouted at you. "I thought you liked him. Plus, he offered to do this for us. We barely know people here, Amy, this party is going to be the best to see new faces."

You chewed your lip as you were setting the drinks on the table in a nice order and contemplated your roommate's words. "What do you need new people for?" you whined. "You already have a best friend and a hot boyfriend."

Yoonji bumped her shoulder on your arm playfully. "But you don't. Who knows, maybe you'll like one of Jimin's friends."

You rolled your eyes at her, but that didn't cover up the smile that had started to form. "Doubt it," you objected. "Models are not exactly my type."

You heard Yoonji laugh from the kitchen. "Jimin's not a model!" she shouted back. Then peeked her head around the doorway to raise an eyebrow at you. "I mean, you're not entirely wrong."

People that you had never even seen before started showing up at your place, and without fail, they all asked where Jimin and Taehyung were. Rude, you thought. That was not their party; something that could easily be deduced by how they weren't even there yet. Also, when had Jimin become so popular all of a sudden? And who the fuck was Taehyung?

At about an hour after the place was already packed and your roommate's boyfriend had finally made an appearance, Yoonji just so happened that she was constantly MIA, and the task of welcoming the people that kept and kept on coming, fell entirely on your shoulders. A task that briefly seemed not so bad when you opened the door and a brown-haired, pretty boy stood in front of you. You guessed models were indeed invited to that party, the only explanation you could come up with for why the most handsome man you had ever led your eyes upon was looking at you and smiling.

"Is this Yoonji's and... Amy's party?" he asked and you were taken aback by his deep, raspy voice that countered his charming face.

"Yes," you said, letting him in. "And are you on the bride's or the groom's side?" You hated the joke the moment it left your lips, a moment too late to take it back. Five full seconds spent with a cute boy and you were already acting weird.

But the boy laughed, and the sound quite literally lifted your spirits. "I am with Jimin if that's what you're asking."

"Of course you are. Jacket?" You offered your hands up for him.

"Oh, right, where can I leave this?" he asked as he slid the piece of garment off his shoulders. You opened the door right behind you, a door that normally led to a small storage space, but you had turned into a temporary closet with all the jackets and purses you had shoved in there. The boy leaned next to you as he tried to find somewhere to leave his outerwear without just dropping it on the pile on the floor.

"Let me," you offered, taking a random jacket that hung from the ironing board, abandoning it on the ground, and replacing it with the pretty boy's one. That's pretty privilege for you.

He chuckled. "Whose was that? Is that okay?"

"Who cares, it's my house."

"Oh," he exclaimed, watching you more closely as you closed the door again and turned to him with your lips awkwardly pressed into a thin line. You pinned your body on the wall, waiting for him to move or say something. "You're Amy?" You nodded, and the boy burst out a big smirk. "Well, well, well..." he rasped. "I'm gonna kick Jimin's ass so hard. He didn't tell me Yoonji had such a cute roommate."

The way your entire face felt like it had caught on fire in a split second almost scared you. It definitely made your eyes widen and your head go into a defense mode; you had never flustered before, of course your brain would think it was under attack. And of course you would reply with something stupid again, like snorting and saying: "Right. And you are?"

"Kim Taehyung, freshly graduated and aspiring big photographer," he proudly introduced himself. It all suddenly seemed to click and you barely held yourself from gasping right in his face. He extended a hand to you, and you took it, ready to shake it. Instead, he surprised you by bringing it to his lips and planting a soft kiss right between your knuckles. "Enchanté," he whispered with his dark eyes piercing yours.

The stupid fire all over your face got worse. So worse all you could do was quickly pull away and scoff at him, but also laugh. "That was too much!"

"Sorry," he chuckled and gave you a big, boxy grin. "I was trying to make you swoon."

You couldn't help but mimic his energy. "Does that ever work on anyone?" Well, what a liar you are. It had literally turned your stomach into a knot.

And Taehyung, almost as if he knew that, smirked at you. "You'd be surprised."

Okay, so you may have overreacted a tiny bit when you took off running away from Taehyung. There could possibly have been other ways to go about it, like gently pushing him off and telling him this was a mistake, trying to talk, or even staying silent. Your head was spinning so hard as you stumbled down that path wishing you don't get lost in the foggy state your mind had dipped in due to the haste. And it had almost cleared, you had almost stopped to think about this rationally and wait for the photographer so that you could walk home together, but the longer you thought about it more clearly, the faster you ran. You didn't even know if it was fear or shame that was powering your flight, but it had to be one of those.

The further you stayed locked in your room, the later emotion became more and more prominent. You saw Taehyung emerge from the trees sometime later and get in the house, you heard him on the downstairs floor, you saw the lights turn on and off... He was everywhere, and you were hiding away, terrified and ashamed. How could you ever meet his eyes again? But most importantly, how would you face yourself in the mirror? You knew that was the worst part of the whole situation; you let your own self down.

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 1:23 am

You returned on the corner that Taehyung and you had been occupying all night long with a drink in your hands, swaying around and trying to survive the mob of drunk college students that were doing what you were sure they thought was dancing in the middle of the living room. Some of the drink spilled on the way and you're not sure if it was because of all the bumping on people or the way you had started seeing everything double and losing your balance pretty easily.

"What the hell happened to my chair?" you whined as you found the photographer sitting there alone when you had specifically asked him to save you the seat.

He shrugged. "I couldn't defend it, sorry." Then he spread his legs wide and pat his thigh, looking up at you with a smirk. "Just sit here."

You didn't think twice; sat down on his offered position, swinging your legs to the side to completely lie on his lap and an arm around his neck for balance. Your face was inches away from his, so much so you could smell the alcohol in his breath, his hands instantly on your waist and hips to pull you close. But it felt so comfortable. Since the moment you met, you hadn't left each other's side, and you hadn't stopped touching. Touching as in holding hands while talking or pushing him while laughing, playing with your clothes or stroking each other's hair. It seemed like there was always an excuse, or, better yet, constantly a need to touch.

"Ugh!" he gagged when he took one sip of the drink you had brought right to his lips. "What is this shit?"

You giggled. "Tequila."

"Is it just tequila?"

You kept giggling. "Actually, we ran out of soft drinks so I mixed it with water."

His mouth dropped open and he started laughing, too. "Of course! Why wouldn't you!" His hands around your body squeezed you tighter and you had to squirm around, still a need to get even closer.

"It's not that bad," you proclaimed, then took a sip from the same straw and had your entire face scrunch up. "See?"

Taehyung had gotten serious, staring at you intensely, as he slowly brought the straw right on his tongue yet again. He took a generous gulp, then offered the drink to you, his eyes fixed on your lips and the way they wrapped around right where his had just been. His stare gave you goosebumps, and you pressed yourself even closer, your hip flushed right against his lower abdomen.

"You know I don't drink," he said in a whisper. He didn't need to speak louder, you were right there. "I'm only doing this for you."

"Well," you mumbled as your fingers ran through the back of his hair. "That makes two of us doing something we don't usually do tonight." And you meant it. You never did this; whatever this was. Sitting on a cute boy's lap that you had only met a couple of hours ago, ready to devour him with the first chance you got. And boy, would you devour him.

"We haven't done anything yet," Taehyung noted, his hand dipping between your legs to pinch your thing.

"Yet," you murmured, pressing even closer to him, feeling his erection grow against your hip.

Your eyes alone could communicate. And all they conveyed was the urgency to get out of there. The need to be alone. Your entire body burned with that need, or maybe it was the alcohol. With no words spoken, you both got up, holding hands not to get lost in the crowd, and searched in the apartment for an empty room. The bathroom was locked, the kitchen busy, one bedroom filled with boys playing video games and the other with smokers. Taehyung pulled you towards the exit; he wasn't about to let the moment escape him. He would get you in his car or even back to his place if he had to, just to get his hands properly on you.

But you didn't have time for that. You needed him right away. So you opened up that makeshift closet and shoved him inside. Space was limited and your bodies were naturally pressed together. The moment the door closed behind you, you realized how dark it was; the light switch being outside, forgotten. You felt his hands ran up your body, trying to blindly find your face with haste like he was being chased.

His lips found yours. And you indeed devoured each other. He had you pinned against the door and his fingers through your hair as he kissed you like a starved man. You know how first kisses almost always suck? How it takes a while to find the right rhythm, to lean into it just enough to match the other's technic? That was nothing like that. It was the best kiss you had ever had, it was so perfect and so right. The way his lips moved over your own and his tongue stroked you, it was like you had done this a million times already, or simply like you were made for each other.

Nothing could stop you now. Not even your common sense that would advise you against fucking just anyone in that tiny space, when everyone was still outside. But common sense had left you long ago. Your body was being controlled by an innate, animalistic hunger. And you moaned his name as you straddled his waist and let him suck hickeys into your neck. And you thought about how this is the best thing that had happened to you as you started taking off his belt.

You heard it again; a thump in the room. This time it was certainly not just in your head. You looked around -let's be honest- scared out of your mind because the last thing you needed right now was for something to be hidden in there with you.

"Tae?" you asked in a low voice, just in case he was playing a stupid prank on you. But you were met with silence.

Until it happened again, a louder tap, and this time you determined it was coming from the window. Slowly, while keeping your body as far away as you could, you got closer. You stared at the glass, trying to figure out why it was making that sound. Then you saw it; a small pebble clashing on the pane and disappearing just as fast. You opened it immediately and leaned outside.

"What the hell?" you shouted when you noticed the shadow-covered man standing in the garden under your room. "What are you doing down there?"

Taehyung tossed away the stones he had in his palms, straining his neck to look up at you. "I wanted to talk to you."

"And you thought -instead of just coming to my room- it'd be easier to walk downstairs, get outside and throw rocks at my window?"

"I thought you wouldn't let me in if I just knocked on your door," he explained.

You groaned. He wasn't wrong; you would have probably continued to hide away and avoid him. But he didn't have to be so dramatic about it. Well, not that you are one to talk. "Ugh, just- get your ass in here," you shouted back.

"You're gonna talk to me?"

"Yes."

"Promise?"

You groaned again. "Yes!"

You saw Taehyung run inside as if he was afraid you would change your mind in the meantime. Perhaps you would. You really didn't want to talk to him. What would you even say? You had no excuse to give him, or no excuse you wanted him to know, anyway. All you wanted was to pretend he wasn't even there until morning came; then you could drive back home and go back to pretending you didn't even know each other.

"He is crazy," you mumbled to yourself as you decided you couldn't evade this anymore. "No, that man is certified insane!" you kept on complaining to no one as you opened your door and dashed away.

You ran into him in the middle of the staircase. Stood there, just a step away from him, with your arms folded over your chest, keeping your eyes anywhere but on him.

"So?" you spat.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said in a whisper, a tone that sounded like he was guilty of something.

"Yes, I got that. You can talk now."

He looked down at your feet. "Here?"

You scoffed and moved past him, jogging down the stairs and taking a turn towards the kitchen. The boy followed you diligently. When you reached the room, you immediately grabbed a glass and filled it with water, chugging it down in one go and going for a second turn. You really wished this was something stronger, looking around to see if you could spot a bottle of some kind of liquor. You would need it if you were to have the conversation you thought you would.

"I have a confession to make," Taehyung announced after he decided the silence was enough.

You froze, the glass of water still against your lips, and you looked at him from the corner of your eyes. "Oh, please," you groaned but still couldn't move. "No more confessions from you."

He sighed, walking until he got right in front of you so that he could look you in the eyes for this. "I remember your party."

See, this is exactly what you feared the most. This...This conversation was what was making this place truly haunted for you.

"What?" you weakly breathed.

"Your... welcoming party? With Yoonji?" he continued. As if you didn't know what party he was talking about. "I remember everything about it."

"But-"

"I wasn't that drunk."

The glass hit the counter with such force, for a second you thought you had broken it in your grip. But it had just provided a loud noise as you gaped at the boy in front of you. What were you supposed to say, now? Where to start?

"You didn't even remember meeting me!" you called out.

"Yeah I- I lied."

The worst part wasn't that he was pretending he didn't know who you were. No, that was low-key genius and you would have done the exact same thing if you were quick enough to think of it when you found yourself in that sitting room, across the person you least wanted to see. The worst part was that you had believed it. You felt like such an idiot. You had believed it and thought it meant you could have a clean start.

3 years, 2 months, and 14 days ago at 1:44 am

You didn't want to stop, but you still did, when Taehyung's phone went off. When he pulled away, gasping for air and apologizing. You thought you were having a moment there, you know, a moment where no matter who was calling, it wasn't important enough to pick up. But he apparently didn't see it that way. He took one look at his screen and asked you to be quiet.

Maybe your eyes accidentally caught the pet name on his contact for a split second, or maybe it was the girly voice that came muffled from the speaker, but your head started spinning without warning. And the space was suddenly too small, and it was choking you. You found the knob before he realized what you were doing, and with your body weight on the door, you were launched outside; into the light that burned your eyes. A girl was standing on the other side of the hallway, looking at you with judgement in her eyes and her phone in her hands, then immediately averting her pretentious gaze. A hand tried to hold onto your shirt to keep you back, but you escaped.

You stumbled through the place, not sure where you were trying to go or who you were trying to find, solely trying to keep yourself up and not barf on the new carpet. You wanted to get away, but where could you go? You lived there. You heard Yoonji's laugh before you even saw her, sighing in relief when you spotted her in the kitchen and letting your body fall on hers.

"Baby, baby, everything alright?" your roommate called for you, but you just held onto her without a word. She tried to bear your weight as best as she could, holding onto the counter so that you wouldn't both plummet onto the floor.

Another hand rubbed your back. "Did you drink a little too much, Ames?" It was Jimin's sweet voice. You whined into your friend's neck before you pulled back to look at her boyfriend.

"Jimin, is Kim Taehyung your friend?" you asked him.

He frowned, a little confused as to how the conversation got there. "Ye- yeah. He's my best friend. You met him, right?"

"Yeah," Yoonji responded for you. "I saw them talking earlier."

You took a deep breath; everything seemed to be against you at that moment, even the air itself, and you were trying so hard to not crumble. "Does he have a girlfriend?" you dared ask, even though you thought you might vomit if you heard the answer.

"Who? Tae?" Yoonji mumbled. You nodded, and she gave you a smirk right away. "Ohh... Why do you ask, baby? You interested?"

You rolled your eyes as both of them started teasing you. "No," you tried to tell them.

"Why, was he flirting with you?"

"How does he get every girl like that?"

"No, guys-"

"I don't blame her. He's so hot."

"Hey! I'm right here!"

"Just answer the damn question!" you yelled at them, and they finally stopped. Jimin looked at you with the same frown again.

"He does," he said and everything that was spinning in the room stopped abruptly. "Sorry, love. I promise you'll be the first to know when they break up."

Everything was foggy, and you felt numb. So numb, there was absolutely no thought in your head. You barely noticed the couple turn their heads to the door, barely realized who it was they were looking at.

"No, thanks," you whispered to Jimin then and pulled Yoonji away. "Bathroom," you simply stated and she carefully took you there, avoiding successfully the boy that was the topic of your conversation. For the first time of the many, many more that followed. All those times you stayed clear of gatherings you knew he would be at. All those times you changed your way, left a coffee shop, stayed silently in a corner in places there was nowhere else to go. You never told Yoonji exactly why you didn't want to be in the same room with him again, but she was very supportive no matter what.

You weren't sure why, either. Whether it was your hurt ego, your high standards for the people surrounding you, or the shame you felt every time you met his eyes, you couldn't tell. One thing you knew for sure was how you vowed to never fall for that again. Not from Taehyung, and not from anyone else. No more hooking up with random fuck boys at parties. No more associating yourself with people you don't even value enough. Kim Taehyung was an asshole, and you didn't care what he did or who he did it with, but you would rather be caught dead than be caught with him ever again.

Yet there you were. With him.

You cleared your throat. "And you're telling me this now because...?"

The photographer frowned, mostly at himself, clenching his jaw and looking at the ground. "Well, because you kissed me and ran away as if your life depended on it. Thought it might have something to do with that."

"Right." You bit the inside of your cheek, nodding slightly as you tried to think of what to say. Truly, what could you say? There have been so many things torturing your mind, but you didn't know which of those would be worth saying aloud. "Okay," you simply mumbled. "Are we done then?"

You tried walking past him but he held you back. "Wait, wait, hold on. You promised we would talk."

You just looked at him with your eyes wide. "You said you had a confession to make. You made it. There’s nothing more to say about that."

"Yes, there is."

"Like what?"

Taehyung snorted, finally letting you go. "Like what your problem with me is!"

You released a bitter laugh. "I thought you said you remember everything about that night."

He licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair. "It's been three years-"

"And you stay lying to me." He looked at you intensely but you didn't back down. You might not have wanted to have this conversation, but now that it was happening, you wouldn't cower one bit.

"Look," he started, taking a step closer. "What I did was wrong. Both to you and to my girlfriend. I understand, it was very shitty and I don't have any excuses. I'm not here to give you any excuses."

"Yeah, 'cause there is no excuse for such a thing," you bit back.

Taehyung sighed at your attitude, somewhat losing his patience, but continued. "Right," he mumbled through his teeth. "I told her what I did and we broke up. Actually, she forgave me and wanted to stay with me but I insisted on breaking up because I didn't want her to be in a relationship where I made such a mistake, I wanted her to find someone better."

You shrugged, folding your arms over your chest yet again and tapping your foot on the floor. "Alright. Good for her. What do you want, a cookie?"

"No-"

"You really did less than the minimum, there, buddy. I don't know what you want from me right now."

"I- nothing!"

"Then why are you telling me this?"

He paused, opening and closing his mouth again, clearly not knowing how to reply. Maybe he expected a different reaction, or maybe he was nervous and it all translated into a type of irritation, but he was starting to look angry. "Because!" he said in a louder tone. "Because you keep treating me like that, you're acting like I'm this huge asshole, and I get it- first impressions are hard to change, but I'm not! I'm not that asshole you've made me out to be and quite frankly it's starting to get pretty annoying."

You chuckled. What else were you supposed to do? You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "Excuse me, but I have the right to believe anything I want about you. If I have a certain idea of who you are and it's not affecting you in any way, then what's the problem?" You saw Taehyung roll his eyes and turn away, his hands on his hips as he shook his head and sighed. "If I think what you did is bad enough for me to never change my mind about you, then that's my opinion."

He was mumbling his words out, not being able to form a sentence long enough for it to make sense. "But that's- you-" He kept grunting and shaking his head at you until he finally spoke up. "Three years!" he announced. "It's been three years, Amy, and you're still punishing me for this. Alright, it's your opinion to determine the gravity of it, but don't tell me it doesn't affect me. Not when you've been avoiding me for three years."

"I haven't-" you tried to lie.

But he knew better than that. "Yes, you have. Every time I wanted to come along with my friends, something always came up and you'd bail. You didn't even show up at Jimin's birthday for crying aloud! Because you knew I'd be there. And I wanted to talk to you, apologize to you. I liked you and wanted to make this right and you never gave me the chance." He took a deep breath after having given his monologue in a haste, almost like he was scared his words would bail, too, if he wasn't quick enough. "And then you're wondering why I pretended I didn't remember you?" You blinked at him when you realized he was waiting for an answer. You had none to give him. "What was I supposed to do, huh? What could I have done that wouldn't have resulted in you getting back in that car and driving away?"

You stayed silent, looking at him through your lashes, then averting your gaze again. You sniffed your nose a couple of times as you were trying to get your thoughts straight. Kicked the floor once or twice as you felt your body squirm under his stare; he wouldn't relieve you from the scrutiny. "I..." you finally mumbled. "I'm not interested in reconciling with you." You gulped but noticed his stance and expression didn't change at all. Like he expected those words. "I'm sorry if that's what you wanted to do, and that I prevented you from even trying. But I won't change my mind about this."

He licked his lips, looking at you with a serious frown, then simply said: "Why?"

Why was he even asking? Was it not obvious? "Look, I simply don't like people who do things like these. I don't want them as boyfriends, or friends, or anything. Nothing personal."

"But that's what I'm trying to say!" he insisted. "I'm not like that." He came close, so close his face was hovering above yours merely inches away, staring into your eyes with a sort of urgency. An urgency for you to understand him. "I'm not normally like that. That night... I don't know. That night was an exception. I really don't want to give you cliché excuses, but I thought you knew. I thought you felt it, too. I'm not crazy, right? There was something there that you felt, too?"

You gulped again, looking him up and down with fire all over your face. Because you knew instantly what he meant. But it had to take a few moments for it to actually sink in. That it wasn't just you. And that he, too, was unable to keep his hands from you that night. It certainly didn't justify his actions or lessen your disdain for him. But at least it felt a tiny bit good to know that you weren't just a naive little girl who had fallen for the pretty boy's trick, just like dozens of others.

"That still doesn't explain..." you started saying, keeping your opinion openly still the same, yet not denying his words.

"I know it doesn't!" he was quick to say. His eyes traveled all over your face, the tone of his voice having calmed a bit. "It was very douchy of me and I don't expect to be forgiven for it. Which is why I didn't stay with that girl." You jumped slightly when you felt his hands land on your arms. But you didn't pull away. "But I don't understand why you have to be so harsh on me. It's been three years, and this is still obviously bothering you. You haven't let it go even a little bit."

You looked away, taking a step back, but he quickly made up for it. "It doesn't bother me," you said, tongue in cheek.

"Well, it clearly does," he insisted. "When you are cold to me one moment, kissing me the next, and then running away like I hurt you."

"You did hurt me."

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Before you even knew what you were saying yourself. He hurt you. You had never admitted that before. Always blaming your anger and aversion to him on your morals or whatever. Yet that was the true reason you didn’t want to see him, and you didn’t want to talk to him, and definitely not kiss him again.

Taehyung paused, taking a deep breath. He leaned nearer as he looked down at your lips as whispered. “I know,” he said in a sweet voice as if to reassure you. “I know.” That meant you weren’t crazy. “But why is it still hurting you now?” You tensed up at his question. “Why do you care -about me- so much that this is, to this day, an open wound?”

You scoffed. But you couldn't say anything. You tried pushing him away, and for a moment he let you, but then he was right in front of you again. Even closer, perhaps. “What are you…?” you murmured, looking quite lost. Especially with the close proximity that was driving your mind into a frenzy.

“Do you still like me?” he asked, straightforward.

“No!” you called immediately. But he didn’t seem convinced, raising an eyebrow at you. "I’m not still hurt. I just… I told you. I simply don't want anything to do with someone like you. So it's fine when you keep your distance, but it's not fine when you kiss me. I said I don't want- ."

"Yeah, yeah, you don't want a boyfriend nor a friend like me," he interrupted you to finish your sentence. "Not that I ever offered to be either of those."

Your cheeks flushed and you looked away immediately so as not to get caught. "I- I didn't say I wanted you to."

Taehyung chuckled. The sound almost scared you more than when he was shouting earlier. Because you knew a casual, flirty Taehyung was always more dangerous. "You know, you kissed me!" he reminded you.

Your mouth dropped in a dramatic way. "You seduced me into kissing you!" you complained.

And the boy laughed even harder. "Seduced? Is that your way of saying you couldn't resist me?"

You tried to fight back at his remarks that clearly only served the role of firing you up -whether that was with anger or something else, you weren't sure. And then he had the audacity to wonder why you still didn't like him? But your voice cracked, as you backed until your body hit the kitchen counter and your hands held the edge tight. "Is not!" you managed to get out.

Taehyung’s arms trapped you in that counter, his hands holding onto it on either side of your body until you were caged between them, as he leaned even closer, standing one breath away and staring at you with a smirk on his lips. It was clear then, he wasn’t trying to talk anymore.

“C’mon,” he rasped, a voice so low that it vibrated in frequencies hard to hear. “I know you can’t resist me. You couldn’t do it three years ago and you can’t do it now.”

Your palms hit his chest, trying to push him away from you as you breathed heavily, hearing your own heartbeat in your head and feeling your control slipping through your fingers. But you still couldn’t form any words. Your brain had shut down when it came to that. Just spinning around as Taehyung kept getting closer. What the hell was he trying to do?

"I'm just saying… There is no one here to judge you for it. No one will know you went against your morals," he purred, a hand leaving your side briefly to swipe your hair off your shoulder and caress your neck in the process. The contact made your palms clench into fists, his shirt pooling under your grip. And there were two ways you could go about this; either push or pull him.

“Tae…”

“Go on then,” he said in a teasing tone. “Show me how much you hate me, princess. How you despise me and everything I stand for. Resist me.”

You did hate him. And you hated being proven wrong. So, those two together should result in you pushing him away and going to your room. Right? You should resist that man, it couldn’t be so hard, anyway. So tell me why the way he was looking at you made your knees buck? Why his words filled your stomach with butterflies, his scent numbed your brain like a hallucinogen? Why you couldn’t resist him.

Tell me why you pulled him in by the shirt.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his lips around yours. Didn’t waste any time to hold you by the waist and press his body on yours. This was the third chance he was given for this and he was about to make it work. And he seemed to have been waiting for it. He already knew what to do, how to hold you, how to kiss you in order to make you moan in his mouth. It was the party scene all over again; as in, you were devouring each other in a sort of urgency, bumping your lips together like you were drunk and had just found the person you were feeling the craziest chemistry with, grinding on each other as if you were trying to merge together.

And maybe he was right; you could never resist him.

Your fingers dipped into his soft locks and he moaned your name. He snaked his arms under your thighs to push you up, letting you sit at the edge of the counter. He immediately filled in the gap between your legs, hands rubbing up and down your back, while you started kissing down his neck, making sure to mark him as if he was yours. He hissed and growled every time you bit him, riding your shirt up to get a feel of your skin underneath. Then finding your hands, intertwining your fingers together, and pushing them past your body, almost like he was trying to confine them away from him. And you hated not being able to touch him, hated how he pushed your body back to have you almost lay on the counter completely, and you couldn’t move. Because you wanted more.

And maybe he was right; no one would ever know about this. So perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to do this. This mistake. Taehyung.

“Princess, if you plan on regretting this and running away again, you better tell me now,” he rasped while kissing your collarbone. “I might not stop later.”

He was giving you an out. And normally you would have taken it. But at that moment the only thing busying your mind was that implied promise of what was to come.

“You better not,” you mumbled, more to yourself, but heard him chuckle when he heard it, too.

His hands clenched harder around yours before he released you in favor of grabbing your ass and your thighs. He squeezed you close, pulling you until your crotch was rubbing against his clear erection under his pants, and all you could do was whimper. Still kissing his neck, that sweet spot under his ear, biting his lob, and hearing him grunt at the way you were making him feel. Your hands, free now, could run up his toned arms and enjoy his body like you wanted to for a while.

He pulled his head slightly back to look into your eyes. His seemed so unfocused, so dark, like he had gotten high from you. “You want me to make you feel good?” he asked with a smirk. You weren’t sure if he was asking for permission or just building the anticipation.

“Can you?” No, you weren’t making a plea. You were questioning his skills. And he picked it up from your tone immediately.

“Can I?” he snorted, his eyes turning to the ceiling before he let his fingers slowly and very slightly brush your naked belly, moving further down. Your entire body squirmed with the rhythm of his fingertips. “You shiver every time I touch you. So, yeah, I think I can do anything I want to you.”

You immediately punched his chest, pushing him away. “God, I hate you.”

But his smug smirk wouldn’t back down. And he wouldn’t let go of you. “We have already established that,” he murmured, as he lowered his head down- and farther down- until it was right in front of the fly of your pants. And your stomach was sucked in the entire time, your whole body, actually, as if you were trying to take up less space. As if you were trying to pull away from him, even though at the same time you could feel your lower half burning from want, and your lips were already missing his.

But then he looked up at you too, as he was bent down there in front of your crotch, to stare into your eyes through his lashes with a hotshot grin and his tongue between his teeth; and you forgot how to breathe. And then he unbuttoned you with his mouth, biting the zipper and pulling it down slow enough for you to feel every vibration on your body, without ever breaking eye contact; and you thought your soul left your body.

He was back at his normal height, pushing your pants down while licking his lips and examining your face. “Alright, princess,” he spoke in a low tone. “I will give you my best, on one condition.” The pants were completely off and he was working on your unimpressive underwear next. “Every time I do make you feel good, you have to say my name.”

He had gotten you all naked from your waist down, yet he still hadn’t even glanced there; kept his eyes stubbornly on yours. But when you tried to press your legs together, feeling shy and exposed, he was holding them tight. “That’s your condition?” you wondered, not seeming too hard to do. You were probably going to do it anyway.

He leaned down, keeping his lips close enough to rub on yours when he spoke. “Yes. Every time. I want you to keep reminding yourself who it is that is making you feel this way.” When he kissed you, it worked almost as a distraction to how one hand crept in between your thighs and pressed around your folds, yet avoiding the place you needed him to touch.

His lips moved at the same rhythm as his fingers, his tongue slipping in your mouth right as he finally moved them closer, getting them all dirty with your wetness. Index and middle finger rubbing up and down, brushing against your clit and over your opening but never giving into either. You hummed in frustration as you bit down on his bottom lip, your hips trying to move forward, trying to get more.

“What did I tell you?” he whispered, increasing his pressure on your clit just for a moment, a moment long enough to make you gasp with your mouth open over his.

“Tae…” you breathed.

“Say it,” he insisted.

“Taehyung,” you moaned, closing your eyes as he started moving his fingers in circles over the sensitive bud like a reward.

“You’re so wet, already,” he observed, something quite obvious from the sounds the simple movement was creating. “Is that all for me?” He pulled his head back to watch your reaction better, smiling when he saw you nodding. “Good girl,” he purred, rewarding you yet again with sliding one finger easily inside.

"Oh,” you moaned, your body immediately arching towards his. You still needed more. The better it all felt, the more you wanted from him.

The photographer inhaled sharply through his teeth, stilling his actions. “Amy, what did we say?”

“Taehyung,” you immediately obeyed. And you didn’t need to be told twice. “Taehyung,” you moaned, again and again, as he worked his magic into you. As he kissed you in that way no one had ever been able to replicate. “Taehyung,” as he pushed a second finger in to stretch you out. “Taehyung,” as he found your g-spot and massaged it softly as if he was working with something fragile. “Taehyung, Taehyung,” as he made you come, once, twice, thrice. With his fingers inside you, on your clit, his mouth french-kissing your pussy, his tongue dipping in and out as he lapped at your juices.

All while you had to make yourself think of who exactly was fucking you like that. Who was making your legs shake, your head spin, your sight and hearing unclear. Whose hair you were pulling, whose teeth you had marks of on your thighs, whose name you were screaming.

Kim Taehyung.

Next Chapter

[anauthore]

A Cigarette for Your Thoughts? (Kenny McCormick x Reader) {SERIES | One}

Summary: You run away from home. You hide from rumours. And most importantly, you give second chances.

Pairing: Kenny McCormick x Reader - South Park

NOTE: Every part of this series can be read as stand-alone, or as part of the series itself! If you don’t want to read each part on Tumblr, feel free to check out links to the work on the below websites:

Wattpad | Quotev | AO3

Fic Below the Cut | Next Part

The night was dark, not even the reflection of the thousands of stars making the slightest bit of difference. You sat on the cold ground with your back against a tree, your face tilted toward the blackened sky as you breathed out, calming yourself and trying your hardest not to make much noise while the hot tears rolled down your cheek.

You squeezed your arms, digging what was left of your nails into your windbreaker that did nothing to shield you from the cold. It happened again, as it always does, but even expecting it didn't help you really cope with it; your mom was arguing with whoever she was dating this month, their drunken stupor unfortunately interrupted by your presence as you walked through the front door.

That was all it took- one slap across the face later and you were gone, cold and alone at a train crossing on the far side of town. You'd been there through sunset, and you were sure you would fall asleep under the canopy to the sound of crickets.

You stretched your legs out in front of you and sighed, eyes closed, before the sound of approaching footsteps put you on alert. You quickly formed an excuse in your head- 'sorry officer, I'm just waiting for my mom to pick me up'- but once the figure got closer you recognized him.

Kenneth McCormick. Kenny, the school's plug for nearly any drug you wanted. Kenny, the kid so poor that South Park had canned food drives for his family. Kenny, the most perverted playboy troublemaker in grade 11.

Had you really ended up that far away from your side of town? You began to scramble to your feet, but the startled gasp emanating from next to you stopped you in your tracks.

"Jesus fuck- Sorry, I didn't see you there."

You apologized quickly, albeit quietly, and mumbled something before starting to stand again.

"No, it's alright," Kenny shook his head, an unlit cigarette appearing in between his right index and middle fingers seemingly out of nowhere. He paused for an uncomfortable amount of time, tilting his head before he speaks once more. "Hey, aren't you- don't you live on the other side of town?"

You nod, confused. "Uh, yeah, how'd you know?" 

He shrugs. "I see you get on the bus from Mr. Mackey's window."

You stare blankly at him. Although it was somewhat creepy... you couldn't help but feel a little flattered. You were average at best; you hung out with a few other people, each equally as unnoticed by everyone else as you. You weren't in any notable clubs, sports, or teams  and you got decent enough grades: nothing to warrant being noticed by anyone, let alone someone that was easily recognizable by the entirety of the school.

He ignores your expression and rummages through his hoodie pocket for something. "So, why did you end up at this end of town?" He pulled out a lighter that looked to be on it's last ends, the paint chipped so much that you couldn't tell what colour it had been.

"What makes you think I 'ended up' here?"

"Sweetheart," the hints of a smile wiggled their way onto his expression before he placed the cigarette between his lips, lighting it and taking a puff in one go; "no one decides they want to come here unless they're looking for drugs, and you don't strike me as the type to throw your life away like that."

He plopped next to you, smoke calmly floating upward as you mulled over his words. What if you did want to throw your life away? It wasn't as if you really had anything left here: South Park was where you had lived your whole life, and although everyone else had mountains of stories to tell, you had nothing but the tales of your mom's iron fist and her many, many boyfriends.

After a moment, you spoke again, softer now that he was right next to you. "What if I wanted to? Buy something, I mean."

He laughed softly, shaking his head. "Then I doubt I would've found you just sitting here."

You looked away, a little embarrassed at your retort. He was right: if you were here to buy, you wouldn't be curled up against a tree, shivering in the cold of the night.

He puffed again on his cigarette, glancing at you only when he was sure you had been eyeing him for a little bit. He flicked ash off onto the ground and offered the smoke your way.

"Do you smoke?"

You hesitated, but decided that you really had nothing else to lose. 

"Now I do."

Kenny puffed air through his nose in a quiet laugh, watching you with a smug smile as you took it and breathed in- and then immediately had a coughing fit.

He chuckled, scooting closer and patting your back to help you catch your breath. You grimaced, repressing a shudder.

"I take it that this isn't your thing."

You shook your head, breathing again to clear the smoke from your lungs while you watched the lit end of the cigarette glow dimly. Once you were satisfied with the air to smoke ratio, you raised the stick up to your mouth again.

"Pull it into your mouth this time, then inhale. You won't cough as much."

You took a mental note and followed what he said, and he was right; you held it in and exhaled when you thought it had been in your system long enough, the back of your skull beginning to tingle as the nicotine worked it's magic.

He must've noticed you relax, because he gave you a thumbs up and fished another Pall Mall from his hood.

It was silent again, neither of you speaking and instead getting lost in the world of tar and probable lung cancer.

When one of you did speak, it was again on the topic you thought you'd managed to avoid, but you guess not. 

"Why all of a sudden?"

"Why what all of a sudden?" You puffed on your cigarette some more, getting a hang of not choking every time you did so.

"Did you choose to," he gestured to your smoke clouds, "start that." 

You shrugged. "Why did you?"

    “One word: Stress. Lots and lots of it.”

You nodded in agreement. “Me too, then.”

He nodded back, and again you both were left to each other’s company and the patterned inhaling and exhaling. Once your cigarette had turned into a nub, you threw the butt under your foot and rubbed it into the asphalt with the toe of your shoe. Kenny hadn’t finished his, yet, you’d noticed, so all you had left to do was to make small talk or lean against the tree again.

The quiet was too much for you, you quickly realized, and so, even though you weren’t much of a talker, you started to talk.

“So, what’s it like? Being popular, I mean.”

He laughed, flicking ash away again. “You think I’m popular?”

“Everyone does.”

He shook his head again, denying it. “Nah, that’s just ‘cause I’ve been lifelong friends with Cartman and his little posse. I’m nothing special- just another McCormick working his ass off to get the bare minimum only to end up addicted to something or other.”

You gave him a look, somewhat concerned. Sure, you knew he wasn’t the best apple in the bunch, but to hear him talk about himself so self-deprecatingly surprised you. He was always somewhat douchey around everyone else, constantly flirting with girls and making fun of anyone else around him- including teachers and parents. He must’ve noticed your sympathy, because he quickly apologized.

“Sorry. That got a little deep.” He stomped on the butt of his cigarette just as you had before. “Nah, it’s okay. Everyone knows my name, everyone knows my game. Nothing else to say about that, really.”

You accepted that he wasn’t going to elaborate any more than that.

“What about you, huh? What’s it like, being invisible? No offense.”

You cracked a smile for a split second. “None taken.” You pulled your legs in to sit indian-style. “It’s alright. No one notices when I slip away- not even my parents. My friends are good, but like- I dunno. They’re like anyone else. More like ‘acquaintances’, I guess.” You shivered, what little heat you’d been keeping trapped under your legs dissipating since you’d changed your sitting position. Kenny noticed, raising an eyebrow.

“So, you came all the way here without a decent coat?” You could sense judgement in his tone.

“Yeah, well, I didn’t have time to grab one between my mom’s boyfriend and my mom ganging up on me.”

His eyes widened a little bit and he glanced to the side. “O-kay. Noted.” Then, he began to shed his jacket, offering it to you by the hood. “Here. I’m plenty warm, plus I have a house over there I could go to if I got too cold. You need it more than I do.”

You didn’t accept it at first; you tried to say no, but he insisted, and you weren’t going to refuse twice. You were freezing, and the night was only going to get colder.

You pulled it on, and you could tell he’d worn it constantly- and not just because it was the only thing you’d ever seen him in. The fur it was lined with was short and stiff, and the pockets were ripped on the inside, not to mention the stains that spotted it. It smelled like cigarette smoke and alcohol, and of course, like a high school boy. You zipped it up and pulled on the hood, not as cold as you’d just been.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

And it was left like that for a long time. At least, long enough for you to doze off and get woken by Kenny standing over you, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Hey, you shouldn’t sleep out here.” 

You rubbed your eyes, looking up at his silhouette. “I can’t exactly go home, Kenny.” Your voice was groggy and you sounded annoyed. Still, he didn’t seem to be disturbed by your sudden change of face. Instead, he almost seemed to have empathy towards you. You weren’t sure if you liked that or not.

“I know.” He repeated himself again, trying to word his question so it didn’t seem so out of place on the dark street you sat on. “I know. Do you want to come over? It- I can find a place for you tonight.” He stared at your unwavering expression for a moment before he spoke again. “You really shouldn’t sleep out here.”

And he was right. You shouldn’t- 

So, you stood and followed him back to his house. The one that was falling apart- that smelled like cigarettes and other pungent drugs that made you wrinkle your nose in disgust- that put up a decent fight against the cold beginnings of Winter in South Park.

[deathtodickens]

About Ages Chapter 30

It's taking longer than anticipated, obviously, as I've spent the past month or so drawing a lot. My brain doesn't move well between the two things, writing a lot and drawing a lot. Or I haven't figured out how to get it to do that in a more time-efficient manner.

I've recently gone back into writing mode and figured it's been four years... almost five. I'll post some bits and pieces.

I am about 90% done with this chapter. It's the last stretch of 10 that I have to get through and that's taking some time.

If you're new to Ages, you can find it on AO3. It starts when Myka is nine years old and, in this latest chapter, Myka turns 21.

***

“I’m trying to take you away from this place so that I can be a certain way with you after three months of being away from you—"

“Be a certain way with me?”

“Have my certain way with you, actually. And you’re picking fights, long wordy fights, with your stepmother. I don’t want to sit through another lecture, Myka,” the irony, Myka thinks, as she is being lectured, “I want to steal you away from this place, undress you, and be this certain way with you. Then I want to fall asleep in your arms for twelve hours straight because I am physically exhausted, you are emotionally exhausted and, for once in our lives, I don’t have a flight to catch tomorrow.”

Myka hadn’t even thought about how much time they might not have until now. She hadn’t even thought to ask. She just assumed it wouldn’t be enough because it never is enough. There is never enough time for them to just be.

Helena has Myka backed against the inside of her bedroom door. She is stunned by Helena’s need to take control of this situation, or just pretending to be stunned. What she truly is, is tired and she doesn’t have the energy to fight for that control. She is happy to leave all of this, Helena’s certainties about ways in which she wants to be with Myka, in her very capable and long-missed hands.

For the first time, in a long time, Helena is grasping at Myka’s hips, moving searching hands around Myka’s waist. And Myka is reflecting on the way Helena’s hands move around her, holding her tight, pulling their hips closer together. The way Helena doesn’t move her hands any lower than the small of her back. The way Helena putting limitations on her own access to Myka’s ways is still giving Myka all of the control.

There is so much warmth, desire, and pleasure, even in this small touch. In Helena’s need to hold herself back for the sake of Myka’s comfort.

“Helena,” comes out a breathy exasperation between Myka’s lips. She doesn’t mean to say it this certain way, she’s just exhausted all over. And after all of that whatever it was with Jane, there is very little else that Myka wants to say.

All of the fighting and arguing puts her in a really bad place but it also puts her in exactly the place for this situation. This certain way Helena is trying to be with her. Where Myka gives up control to Helena and allows herself to be taken care of, rather than doing all of the care taking.

“I realized something in these last three months we’ve been apart,” Helena says softly. “You’re always doing all of the talking. I can never get a word in edgewise. For a girl who never used to say a word to me, it’s funny that you’re always the one talking now. Telling me why we don’t work, reminding me why we’re not together, avoiding my touch.”

“I’m not avoiding your touch,” Myka smiles, “I just prefer to be the one doing the touching.”

Helena squints at her but doesn’t respond to that. “You know what else I realized?”

Helena is close enough to kiss and Myka tries to do just that, but Helena pulls away with a smile, biting down on her lip.

“I don’t tell you enough how beautiful you are.”

Myka laughs. “You have me confused with the other, actually pretty daughter, in this family.”

“I definitely do not have you confused with your little sister, Myka,” Helena says this suddenly serious, annoyed, rolling her eyes.

Myka shakes her head and huffs out a breath of amusement.

Helena squints at her again and tilts her head and that’s beautiful, that gesture, the expression that pretends to be annoyed by anything Myka does. She is the beautiful one. There’s no reason both things cannot be true but Myka doesn’t believe herself to be beautiful. Certainly not more so than so many of the people Helena has known and loved. Not enough to even compare.

“That you think I’m joking is only further motivation to prove to you that I am, in fact, not.”

“I believe that you believe it,” Myka whispers, testing Helena’s commitment to this fantasy, “doesn’t make it true.”

Helena sighs. “You are beautiful, Myka. More and more beautiful every time I see you. Even when you’re frustrated and feeling vulnerable. Like now.”

Myka looks away.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you were right about not knowing how you’d feel, about your father’s death. You were right, more than you expected to be. You didn’t know how you’d feel then. You don’t know how it’s impacting you now. But I think it’s hitting you in a way you can’t easily see or… don’t want to.”

“Maybe you just think too much?”

“Maybe Jane was right about you hurting the people you love the most?”

Myka looks away again but says, “Why should it hit me at all? I’m not sad he’s gone.”

“Who said anything about you being sad, Myka? It could be anything. Frustrated? Lost? Untethered?” Myka laughs at that last suggestion. It could almost be true. It’s the closest, she thinks, any word has come to explaining how she feels right now even if she’s a little bit offended by the implication Warren still has that much control over her. “And how could it not impact you? He was your father.”

Myka inhales deeply.

“Why else would you treat Jane the way you did?”

“I didn’t treat her any kind of way,” Myka’s eyes are back on Helena now. Challenging. “She’s drinking and picking fights.”

“Myka. You called her an alcoholic, in so many words, over a glass of wine. You accused her of not loving your mother enough to want to be with her. You told her to break up with her. Jane? I grew up admiring the love she has for your mother, I know you saw it, too. I know that you know it’s different.”

“You’re not here, Helena, you wouldn’t know. They’ve been arguing a lot.”

Helena puffs out a small laugh, lowering her head for a moment. Causing all of those too-short bangs to fall into her face.

“Because arguing with someone means that you don’t love them,” Helena says as Myka reaches up to push Helena’s hair back behind her ear.

“That’s probably how they lost Claudia.”

“Is that what you think?” Helena asks, her gaze moving back up. Myka doesn’t acknowledge that question. “Is that part of the reason for this?” Helena asks, pointing to Myka’s forehead and setting a gentle finger over a crinkle of frustration. “Because you think they’re to blame for Claudia being away?”

“You’re not here,” Myka repeats softly, bringing her hands to Helena’s shoulders, not knowing where else to place them.

“I know,” Helena whispers, her hold on Myka’s waist tightening, pulling them closer together, “and I’m sorry for that. I will never stop being sorry for leaving you.” Their foreheads come together, the tips of their noses touch. “Can I kiss you?”

Myka doesn’t know why she asks. Why she thinks she needs to but because she does, because whatever she’s trying to do with or to Myka would swiftly translate into her winning this discussion, (and Myka’s sure this is, somehow, a race) Myka says, “No.”

Helena smiles at that answer. At the force behind its delivery.

Myka doesn’t expect Helena to step back, to completely remove her hands from Myka’s waist, or her lips from their proximity to Myka’s lips. Helena takes a whole step back and leans against the wall adjacent to Myka’s bedroom door.

“Myka, we both know that you can argue with someone you love without falling out of love with them. It sounds like Jean and Jane are just under a lot of stress. Your mother is grieving, and Jane is just trying to give her space to do that. Even if she’s a little hurt that your mother still has this connection with your father.”

Myka sighs her frustration.

“See? Frustrated. And beautiful.”

“I’d be less frustrated if you weren’t trying to make out with me while having a deeply emotional conversation about all three of my parents.”

Helena smiles and blinks ever so slowly and says, “I’m sorry,” followed by, “did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Myka moves to lean her side against that wall, too, still facing Helena.

“No kiss?”

“In thirteen years, have I ever meant it?”

“You’ve never said it to me before.”

Myka sighs and turns so that her back is against the wall now, “You already kissed me. So why are you asking now?”

“It’s called consent, Myka.”

Myka turns to Helena with an annoyed look and tells her to shut her pretty mouth.

“I’m not trying to be funny,” Helena says, even as she is laughing. She reaches a hand down toward Myka’s leg and extends a single finger to touch, gently, the skin just below Myka’s dress. Myka can see beyond the warmth and the desire now. She can see that there is fire in Helena’s eyes. That she has been waiting, far longer than those three months since they’d last seen each other, to be here with Myka, like this. “I mean it. And I’m asking because it won’t just be a kiss.”

Myka saves her the trouble, for now.

She moves in, with her back still against the wall, closer to Helena and presses a light kiss to the other woman’s lips. It reminds her of a time in high school, when they would stand this way outside of Vanessa’s class waiting for the bell to ring. Myka had only dreamt of what this might feel like back then, to have the nerve to be in control, to kiss this very woman who stands before her, without hesitation or intimidation.

As they part in the present, more of Helena’s fingers extend to the skin of Myka’s leg, just below her dress. Reaching and curling toward black fabric. Lifting the edge of her dress up.

“So you ask for a kiss,” Myka smiles, “but you cop a feel with no warning?”

Every hint of Helena’s teasing smile is gone now. She is looking back at Myka with a burn in her eyes that Myka hasn’t seen in years.

“I’m sorry,” Helena says again, softly.

Myka doesn’t know why she keeps apologizing. Why this is a thing she suddenly does, and with such ease, now. Helena clears her throat and removes her touch from Myka’s leg and Myka instantly regrets saying anything at all. That playful mood of Helena’s has slipped entirely away. Disintegrated before her eyes.

Helena stands straight and moves herself in front of Myka.

“I don’t know how to ask you what I want to ask of you, so I’m just going to say what I think will best relay what it is that I want.” Myka waits, brow arched, as Helena leans in close to whisper, eyes closed, almost against Myka’s lips. “I’ll go slow and you tell me when you want me to stop.”

Myka grins as she plucks a perfect memory from the recesses of her mind. She tells Helena, just as softly, just as close, “Someone once told me we don’t have to be so cryptic about sex.”

“You can’t take the dress off.”

“Wait, are you just turned on because I’m wearing a dress?”

Helena says nothing but puts a few inches of space between them, bites down on her lower lip.

“For the record, I’m not judging you. It’s just new,” Myka thinks, “because I don’t ever wear a dress.”

“I won’t lie to you. And you did wear a dress at Jeannie’s wedding. But you took it off before we had reconciled entirely.”

“Wow,” Myka’s smile grows wide, thinking back to where they were just three months ago, “you were undressing me with your eyes during Jeannie’s wedding, weren’t you?”

Helena is quiet and staring again.

“I’m not a toy, Helena.” Myka teases.

“Oh, shut your beautiful mouth.”

[naruto-ichigo-soul-kyobabe]

Drunk Confession - Seungmin

Seungmin was enjoying his Friday night at home and alone. He was happy he finally had some time to relax and read, since he was usually busy with school and looking after you during the week. Tonight was one of your other friend’s birthdays and you were celebrating it with her. What Seungmin didn’t know that this party was more of a house party, with lots of random people and alcohol, which you didn’t handle well. So he was rather annoyed when he got a call from your friend telling him you were pretty drunk and some of the guys at the party were hoping to get with you. 

“Hey Seungmin, this is y/b/f/n and y/n’s pretty drunk. Can you come get her?” 

“Can’t she just sleep it off? I mean it’s just you guys and a couple other friends.” He said sighing. 

“Uh, actually some of my friends invited some of their friends who invited some guys... and it’s getting hard to keep them away from here since I have been drinking too.” She explained laughing nervous. 

Seungmin was going to kill you and any guy who tried to touch you before he got there. “Address. Now.” 

Once Seungmin arrived at the right location and entered the house and saw just dozens of people crammed together. Some where dancing, most if not all were drinking, and some were getting heated right there for all to see. He scanned the area for you and didn’t see you. His heart started race. He spotted your friend and went to her. 

“Where’s y/n?” He asked harshly. 

“In my room. I managed to get her to stay there by telling her, you were coming to get her.” She explained. She told him where her room was and he went up the stairs. 

He knocked on the door before opening up. “Y/n?” He asked before seeing you sitting on the bed, hopping up and down. “What are you doing?” 

“Oh!! Minnie you came!” You exclaimed happily and ran towards him. You hugged him tightly, which caught him off guard. You two were best friends and you were the more affectionate one in the relationship but he still was caught off guard every time. 

“Who allowed you to drink? You know you can’t handle it.” He said rolling his eyes. 

“Oooooh but’s a celebration! Wooo!” You said throwing your arms up and yelling. 

“Well no more celebration for you. I’m taking you home.” He said as he grabbed your wrist. “Let’s go.” 

“Oh but I don’t want to go home.” You pouted. “Oh! We should have a sleepover! We haven’t had one in ages!” 

He looked at you, feeling exhausted, he didn’t understand why you wouldn’t just let him take you home. 

“Y/n, we are not going to have a sleepover. We’re adults now. And you are drunk and just need to sleep it off” 

“Just because you’re an adult doesn’t mean you can’t have sleepovers!” You said angry. “And I can sleep it off with you.” 

“My, you’re bold today.” Seungmin said laughing slightly. “But no. You’ll sleep it off alone at home.” 

“Then I’m not going.” You said crossing your arms over your chest and sitting on the floor. “I’ll stay right here. Maybe even go back down and party some more. Maybe someone else would like to have a sleepover with me.” 

“What are you even saying?” He asked. “Just go home,” 

“No, I refuse.” You said shaking your head violently. 

He looked at you, throwing a fit like a child, and knew he could easily toss you over his shoulder and take you home by force. But he knew if he did that you would make a scene and someone might think he was kidnapping you something. So he knew he had no other choice. 

“Fine,” he said. “We can have a sleepover,” 

“Yay!!” You jumped up excitedly and hugged him. “I can’t wait! We never hangout like we used to.” 

He frowned when you said that. You guys saw each other pretty much every day at school and did things on the weekends. But he decided not to dwell on it and grabbed your wrist again and lead you to his car. 

He was driving you to your home. He had lied about having a sleepover. He only said that to get you to come to his car quietly. As soon as you figured out he was taking you home, you started to throw a fit. 

“Kim Seungmin. You lied to me.” You said. “Stop the car I want out.” 

“What are you talking about? I’m taking you home, so stay in the car.” He said feeling like he was getting a headache. 

“Let me out.” You said and unlocked the car door yourself and opened it while he was still driving. 

He slammed on the breaks. “What the hell are you doing!? Are you crazy?” He asked leaning over and slamming the door closed. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?” 

You put your head down and started crying, which startled him. He has no idea what to do because he didn’t know why you were crying. “Why are you crying? Is it because I yelled at you? I’m sorry for that but you scared me to death when you opened the door!” 

You shook your head. “I j-just want to spend time with you and you j-just want to send me away.” 

“Wha-“ 

“We h-hardly hangout anymore!” You said crying harder. 

“We see each other at school all the time-“ 

“No! That’s not the same! We’re in different majors! We hardly spend anytime together a-anymore!” You finally were able to say what you wanted to tell Seungmin for months. “I feel so lonely without you. You’re u-usually with your friends or classmates a-and don’t make a lot of time for me.” 

Seungmin’s heart sank when he heard you say all this while you were crying. It was true he didn’t see you as often as he liked or for as long either. He was busy with his classes and studying and usually chose to hangout with the guys from his classes so they could discuss what they had learned. He didn’t realize he had hurt you by doing that. He bit his lip and sighed. 

“Okay. Sleep over at my house.” He said and started to drive. “To make up for me being a shitty friend to you. I’m sorry.” 

You thought he was lying again so you just leaned your head on the window and cried a bit more until you guys got to his house. He got out and went over to your side and opened the door. 

“Y/n, come on. Let’s go in.” He offered you his hand. You looked up and realized you were in front of his house and you smiled and took his hand. 

Seungmin had lent you some of his clothes and helped you wash all your makeup off before tucking you into his bed. He said goodnight to you before he started to walk away, you grabbed his arm. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m going to sleep on the couch.” He said as if it was obvious. 

“But Minnie, it’s a sleepover. Sleep beside me.” You whined. You pulled his arm causing him to lose his balance and he fell onto the bed. “Please.” 

At this point his was out of energy to argue with you and he still felt bad that you had cried because he unintentionally ignored you. You moved over and he got into bed next to you. He laid into his side and turned his back to you. 

“Good night.” 

“Seungmin, would you hold me?” 

He nearly had a heart attack from your sudden question. “No.” 

“Fine,” you said as you wrapped your arms around him to hold him instead. “Good night.” 

He stiffened. He didn’t understand what you were doing. “Y/n what are you doing?” 

“Cuddling you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to.” You said snuggling closer to him, smiling at his warmth. 

“Well, I-I don’t want to. So let go.” He said feeling his face blush. 

“No.” You said hugging him tighter. “You use to let me do this when we were younger. I miss it” 

“Yeah when we were kids! So let go” 

“What does that have anything to do with it? Being kids or adults?” You asked annoyed. “Like damn it, Seungmin. I loved you when we were kids and I love you now, when we’re adults. So what difference does it make?” 

He froze. His heart rate started to increase. His face burned. He wasn’t sure if you meant friendship love or love love and he was kind of afraid to ask. But he knew he had to. 

“Y-you love me?” 

“Of course.” You said. “I always have and always will.” 

“Like as friends or?” He asked nervously. 

“I mean you’re my best friend so course I love you as a friend, but I mean I love love you. That’s why I have been very sad because it felt like you didn’t like me anymore and was pushing me away.” 

He turned around quickly and wrapped his arms around you. “Y/n, I never meant to make you feel like that. I would never push you away and I still like you and will always like you.” 

He pulled you in closer to his chest and hugged you tight. He never wanted to lose you and the realization that he was close to due to him prioritizing others before you, broke his heart. 

“Do you love me?” You asked quietly. 

“If I didn’t love you then I wouldn’t have went through this whole ordeal to get your drunk ass from that party, have you open the door while the car was moving, and be holding you like this.” He said smiling softly. 

“Then say it. Say “Y/n I love you.”” 

“But you already know I do.” He said embarrassed. 

“Seungmin, I love you. Why can’t you just say it back?” You whined. 

“You know you’re annoying, right?” He said chuckling. “Y/n, I love you.” 

“Good,” You giggled. “Can we have lots of sleepovers now?” 

“What’s with your obsession with sleepovers?” 

“Because I want to sleep in your arms often.” 

He blushed and was happy that the room was dark and you couldn’t tell. “If that’s the case, we’ll have as many as you want.” He kissed your forehead. “Good night, y/n” 

“Good night, Minnie.” 

[littlestarofthewest]

Gahd I love your kinky fics!! Pls can u do one with a younger femreader & arthur? Like they like each other but she's younger so he's hesitant to start but then just shows her how a man his age gets it done *wink wink* I'm not into the daddykink but I do like an age gap haha I know youve just done creampie (it was so daamn good!!) but pls pls creampie & dirty talk 🤤 how Javier opened her up....I can imagine Arthur loving that 😂 ps. Honestly best fics out there! ♥️ Thanks for the prompts again!

Thank you for all the love, dear

Also dedicating this to @emily-strange who had a very similar request (you two should talk xD). Sorry I kept you waiting for so long (since freaking December).

Title: Young Love | Word Count: 9352 | Rating: Explicit!!! (18+)

Pairing: Arthur Morgan & female reader | Tags: angst and fluff and smut

Arthur has no idea what it is that makes you so different. Back when he and John rescued you, you were just a young girl that needed help, and by now, he wishes he would still feel about you this way. 

For months, Arthur tried to treat you like Mary-Beth or Tilly, a young girl that could very well be his sister. It’s just that you make it so hard for him. You’re not naive and silly like some 19-year-olds Arthur met, and although you’re more on the shy side, you still have a way of teasing him with winks and smiles that shouldn’t affect him as much as they do.

In the beginning, Arthur fell headfirst into your trap. He rescued you, after all, so you tended to stick to him, and Arthur let you. You were easy to talk to, with a hunger for knowledge and a good sense of humor, not easily offended when he spoke out of tune. 

When it became clear that you would stay with the gang, Arthur and John taught you how to shoot, and you went on hunts with Charles. After a while, Hosea also allowed you to take part in little heists, Arthur always by your side to make sure you were safe. 

It started then that he began to see you in a different light. You were smart and cunning, using your innocence to lure people in. Men, in particular, are unable to withstand your shy smile, and Arthur found himself to be one of them.

It’s not that you used it against him, but whenever you asked something of him, there was no way for him to say no. Soon, Hosea found bigger jobs for the two of you, calling you a great team. You ended up on the road a lot, often just the two of you.

Arthur did his best to act respectively, but you seemed so comfortable around him that you sometimes didn’t care much about decency. He got to see more of your long legs and your cleavage than was good for him, and you had no trouble touching him or sleeping closeby when sharing a tent.

Slowly but surely, Arthur got more and more enticed by you, and it got so bad that he dreamt about you in ways that were anything but decent. Soon, those dreams and reality blurred together, and Arthur found himself staring at you at the worst of times, imagining all kinds of inappropriate things.

Today, Arthur would give anything to not be in camp. It’s your 20th birthday, and since it’s your first one since you’ve joined the gang, Dutch announced a little celebration. Arthur gave you his present, a new hunting knife, early in the morning, and ever since then, he tried to stay away from you.

Now, Arthur‘s sitting on a log farthest away from the fire, nursing a beer in his hand. The others are going to town with whiskey and rum, the alcohol taking its toll. Karen is sitting on Sean’s lap, the two of them the loudest but not the best at singing along to the songs Javier plays. 

Once in a while, Uncle chimes in with the banjo, causing some laughs. Soon, most of the gang is drunk enough to dance around the fire. John and Abigail do a surprisingly decent job, not arguing for a change, while Lenny tortures your feet.

Arthur can tell that you’re soldiering on, but while Lenny is kind and wicked smart, he’s still not the most skilled when it comes to dancing. When Hosea gets up from his seat, Arthur hopes that he might release you, and he actually claps Lenny’s shoulder.

“My dear boy, I fear you need some more practice before we can let you dance with the ladies.“

Everybody laughs, and you give Lenny an apologetic smile, but he just shrugs, not taking offense. Arthur’s sure Hosea will take over now, showing Lenny how to do a better job, but instead, he turns around.

“This lady deserves a decent birthday dance,“ Hosea says. "Arthur? Would you be so kind?“

All eyes dart to Arthur, and he wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He loves Hosea with all his heart, but sometimes he would like to smack him. 

"Arthur can’t dance,“ Sean blurts out, saying out loud what everybody else must be thinking. 

Dutch laughs at the heartfelt announcement. "No see, there’s a big difference between not being able to do something and deliberately denying the world your gift.“

Arthur shakes his head, ready to disappoint both Hosea and Dutch, but then Hosea points at you. "Come on, you can’t say no to a birthday dance with this lovely young lady.“

That’s exactly the problem. You’re young, way too young for Arthur, and he can’t say no to you, not ever. Looking into your curious face, Arthur puts down the bottle and gets to his feet. Hosea pats his shoulder, and Dutch applauds as if they already watched a great show.

"Now watch and learn, gentlemen,“ he cheers.

Arthur does his best to ignore everybody else, his eyes focused on you. A tingling feeling rushes through his body the second he takes your hand, and he leads you away from the fire to have more room. Besides, it will be easier to talk to you without the others hearing what he says.

"I’ll have to put my hand on your back,“ Arthur warns you, wishing he could say something that would turn you away, but you just smile at him.

"It’s alright, Arthur,“ you say, amusement in your voice, "I know how dancing works.“

Arthur swallows hard when he puts his hand in place on the small of your back. You rest your hand on his shoulder, and just like so many times before, you have no problem with being near him. Taking a step forward, you close the gap between Arthur and you, and he feels like dying when your body presses warm against his own.

Counting in a whisper, Arthur tries to give you an idea when to start, and then you’re off. Although Arthur hasn’t danced in years, it all comes back to him now. Just like shooting a gun, it’s something you do without thinking. Lead by Arthur, you have no trouble following along, and some of the gang members even whistle and cheer.

By the time the song is over, Arthur has a hard time letting you go. Still pressed against him, your chest rises and falls with the exhausted breaths you take, your face flushed, and your hair a little looser and out of place from being swirled around. You look as if you and Arthur did something way more indecent than dancing, the picture searing itself into Arthur’s brain.

To make the torture complete, you smile at him as if he just hung the moon, going on tiptoes to press a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Arthur.”

There’s clapping from around the campfire before Dutch and Hosea take turns telling stories about heists where their dancing skills were essential. When Arthur is sure that nobody focuses on him anymore, he takes the chance to sneak away, heading into the nearby woods.

On the first day at the new campsite, Arthur found a hidden arch in between two big trees that leads to a small meadow. He leans against a tree with closed eyes, filling his lungs with fresh evening air, trying his best not to think about the dance. Of course, he ends up thinking just about that, and especially about how you looked afterward.

“Arthur?" 

Your voice draws Arthur out of his daydream. It’s not you in his imagination, but you’re really in front of him. "What?”

“I’m sorry,” you say in that timid voice you use when you think you did something wrong, “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s alright.” Arthur pushes himself off of the tree. “Just didn’t think anybody knew of this place.”

“I found it a day after we made camp,” you say, twisting the fabric of your skirt with your fingers.

Arthur knows that it’s a habit of you that only shows when you’re nervous. He’s not used to seeing it when the two of you are alone.

“Is there something you need?” he asks, thinking that you might have some sort of problem.

“I wanted to ask you something,” you say, still fidgeting with your skirt. “I know you’ve already given me a great present, but there’s something else I wish for, and you’re the only one I want to ask for it.”

Arthur’s heart pounds faster. It’s as if you know that he won’t be able to say no, and since you’re asking him in the middle of the woods, it’s probably something more than just a request for more shooting lessons. Still, Arthur can’t help himself. It’s you, after all, so he has to ask. “What is it?”

“In Mary-Beth’s novels, people always have these great kisses, but all the boys I’ve met were just-” You don’t finish the sentence, but Arthur has been a 19-year-old boy himself. They often aren’t that great with romance and tenderness. 

You take a step towards Arthur, making his heart almost leap out of his chest. “I’m 20 years old now,” you continue with a sigh, looking up at him. “All I want is one real kiss. With a real man. Like you.”

Arthur can tell how hard it is for you to say this, your voice getting quieter with every word while the blood rushing through his veins becomes so loud that he can hardly hear you. Still, you manage to hold his gaze when he’s looking for words.

“Those are just books, ya know?” Arthur says.

It’s the wrong thing to say. You shrink like fruit in the hot sun, all hope draining from your face to be replaced by sadness. Arthur hates to see you like this, especially when he’s the reason for it. But what else can he say? It’s not his place to give you any kisses. The way he thinks about you is already shameful enough.

“You’re right,” you finally say, your voice near tears. “It’s stupid. I shouldn’t have asked.”

You turn around, and Arthur’s heart stands still. He failed you. After promising to protect you, he hurt you more than anybody else. And why? Because of stupid rules. It’s not like you’re asking for something terrible. Just a kiss. Just a favor from a friend.

“Wait,” Arthur says, the word barely more than a whisper.

You turn back around, and Arthur takes your hand, tugging just enough to have you come back to him. You look up to him, waiting for an explanation, but he knows he doesn’t have the words for this. Instead, Arthur cups your face with his hand, pulling you closer. 

He feels like he’s drowning in your eyes, unable to stop now, so he leans in to close the gap between you. Arthur can hear you taking a shaky breath, his own chest feeling like it’s about to burst. He’s never considered himself a great kisser, but he tries to be gentle with you, knowing all too well what novels you’ve been reading.

At first, your lips barely touch, Arthur still giving you a chance to stop. Instead, you lean into it. Arthur puts his hand onto the small of your back the same way he did during the dance, drawing you in before pressing another soft kiss to your lips. Your hands come to rest against his chest, sending waves of heat through his body.

Arthur knows that this should be it. You got your kiss after all, but something deep in his soul keeps him in place. It kept screaming and clawing at him for months, telling him how much he wanted to be with you. You mentioning other boys kissing you awakened a horrible ache in Arthur, raging like a fire that consumes him.

Despite telling himself over and over that he can’t be with you, Arthur longs to have so much more with you. The thought that someone could take you away is killing him, forcing him to hold on to you. 

Arthur teases your lip with his tongue, and you eagerly open up for him, giving him a sweet taste of what could be. His hand runs down from your face along your neck, touching soft, warm skin before it ventures deeper. Arthur caresses your side, his fingers trailing along the curve of your breast and down to your hip.

With his other hand moving down to the swell of your ass, Arthur pulls you even closer, deepening the kiss. Your hot tongue brushes against his own, the sensation so overwhelming that everything around the two of you blurs. 

Arthur gets lost in your kisses, the warmth of your body, your scent, and all the promises your body makes, pressed against him like a second skin. His fingers claw into the flesh on your hips as he rubs himself against you, lust tightening his pants.

You let out a soft moan, and from one second to the next, the world shifts back into focus. Searing pain shoots through Arthur’s body as if hit by lightning. This isn’t one of his fantasies where he’s allowed to be with you. It’s real, and it’s you. A girl who deserves so much better than him.

Arthur steps away from you in a hurry, his tone harsh as he barks at you. “Go back to camp!”

You take a step toward him, reaching out. “But Arthur-”

“Goddamn, girl! Go back to camp, right now!”

Arthur’s never thought that he’d be able to even raise his voice when talking to you, but now he shouts, making you freeze on the spot. You stare at him for a few seconds before you finally come to your senses. You turn around and rush through the trees, running from him like a startled deer.

With a growl, Arthur turns around, punching his fist against the nearest tree at full force. He’d hoped the pain would drive out the thoughts about you, but even with his knuckles bleeding, it’s not enough. Memories rush into his mind, of you looking at him, talking to him, touching him. 

Arthur remembers the dance with every detail, and even worse, the kiss you just shared. Usually, it’s a gift to see something and be able to draw it right from his memory, but now it becomes a curse. He’ll never forget the taste of your lips, the way you held on to him, how your body melted against his. In dark, lonely nights, he’ll remember that enticing sound you made when he pushed himself against you.

You didn’t shy away from his touches, and Arthur realizes with horror that you might have let him do even more. You asked him for a kiss, but that’s rarely where the stories end. Maybe, you would have wanted more. Maybe, you would have allowed him to have you, right then and there, on the forest floor.

With a grunt, Arthur frees himself from his pants, stroking his cock so hard that it’s more painful than pleasurable. The thoughts consume him, the memories of you so vivid as if you were still there. 

It doesn’t take Arthur long to reach his peak, his cock throbbing, hot spurs of come shooting against the bark of the tree in front of him. Tucking himself away, Arthur watches as it trickles down. Out of control as he is, he could have done such horrible things to you. 

Consumed by shame, Arthur walks back through the trees, a plan forming in his mind. If he wants to protect you, he can’t be near you until he’s ingrained it in himself that he can never have you. Arthur has to go - far away.

——– 

You have a hard time focusing on your work, looking up again and again to sneak a peek at Arthur across camp. If you keep going like that, the water will be ice cold until you’re done washing all the clothes, and Miss Grimshaw will have your head. Still, you can’t keep yourself from doing it, almost like you need to have your fill of Arthur before he disappears again. 

With a sigh, you remember the time after your kiss. In the morning, Arthur was gone, only Hosea knowing where he went. He didn’t come back for four weeks, and when he did, he avoided you at all costs. You barely got to see Arthur at all for about three months after that. He either was in his tent or out of camp altogether. 

Over the last month, Arthur stayed more often and didn’t leave the second you showed up. You at least got a “good morning” out of him every day, and once in a while, you had brief conversations about the weather or the latest successful jobs of the other gang members. 

You feel like it still might take quite some time before things could go back to normal, if at all. You don’t blame Arthur, though. You risked your friendship over a stupid crush, using his kindness to trick him into getting what you wanted. 

Of course, you should have known that Arthur didn’t feel the same way as you. To him, you must be nothing but a stupid little girl that needs constant supervision and help. You asked Arthur for a real kiss from a real man, ignoring that you didn’t even come close to being a real woman. 

After all this time, you still can’t forget how Arthur kissed you, giving you all that you wanted while you had nothing to offer in return. All you could do now is to apologize and beg Arthur for forgiveness. 

With another sigh, you go back to scrubbing the laundry. When you carry the basket with the wet clothes through camp to hang them up to dry, Hosea and Arthur walk past you. You give them a quick nod, keeping up appearances for Hosea’s sake. Arthur looks up, and it’s the first time that you get to hold eye contact with him for more than a second.

“Mylady,” he says, his voice soft.

The two men keep walking without pause, but you almost trip, your heart pounding. It’s been so long that Arthur had a kind word for you, but the familiar greeting brings you right back into the time before the kiss when everything was alright.

Your eyes fill with tears, and you do your best to quickly blink them away, but when you begin to hang up the clothes, Mary-Beth walks over to you.

“Are you alright?” she asks, leaning over to get a better look at your face.

“Sure,” you answer, focusing on the laundry.

From the corner of your eye, you can see Mary-Beth looking over to Arthur. “I didn’t mean to say anything. After all, it’s your business if you get along with Arthur, but this? If he makes you cry in the middle of camp, I’ll have a word with him. I mean it.”

You’ve never seen Mary-Beth talking so fiercely, and usually, she adores Arthur. That she would pick a fight with him over you makes your heart melt.

“It’s not him, it’s me,” you explain. “I did something foolish, and Arthur is right to be angry at me. I appreciate that you’re trying to help, but please don’t say anything to him.”

“But the crying,” Mary-Beth insists.

“Happy tears,” you say, giving her a big smile. “I think it’s going to be alright again.”

Mary-Beth looks back and forth between you and Arthur before pulling out a handkerchief and giving it to you. “Fine. But if there’s anything you need, please tell me.”

“I will. Thank you, Mary-Beth. You’re the best.”

She blushes a little and finally walks away, giving you another chance to look over to Arthur. You almost get caught when he and Hosea come your way.

“Can we have a word?” Hosea asks you with a smile, and you almost drop the shirt you’re holding.

You can’t believe that Arthur would tell Hosea about the kiss, but you can’t think of anything else they would want to talk about. “Sure,” you say, your fingers playing with the wet fabric in your hand while your heart pounds so hard that you wonder if they can hear it.

“I’ve got some information about a rich couple that moved from the city into a cabin up north. Really secluded, good spot if you know how to live off the land,” Hosea explains, giving you a chance to breathe again. It’s about a job. Nothing more.

“And they know how to do that?” you ask.

Hosea smiles. “Not from what I hear. I want Arthur and you to go up there and check it out. You might be able to charm them, offer your help. Maybe you can find out if they still got more riches left in the city.”

“Or we could just rob them,” Arthur says, his voice barely audible, but Hosea nudges his elbow into Arthur’s side.

“Don’t act like the brute, Arthur. We both know you’re much more than that.”

You know that to be true, but Arthur just grunts as if he doubts Hosea’s words. You wish you could tell him otherwise, but you don’t even dare to look at him.

Hosea takes a piece of paper out of his jacket and hands it to Arthur. “That’s the place.”

Arthur studies what looks like a hand-drawn map while rubbing his beard. “I say we head out right now. If we make camp when it gets dark, we should be able to reach the cabin tomorrow by noon.”

You wait for Hosea to answer, but when he stays silent, you look up to find the two men looking at you, and you realize Arthur’s talking to you, not Hosea.

“Oh, sure,” you hurry to say, “just let me finish up here, and I’ll get my things.”

“Great,” Hosea says, “glad to have the two of you on this. I was worried I’d have to send Bill.”

He winks at you and walks away, leaving you alone with Arthur. You rack your brain what to say, but Arthur beats you to it. “I was kinda planning on wearing that again.”

You stare at him, drowning in his eyes until he nods to your hands. You’ve been wringing the shirt between your fingers, only now seeing that it’s one of Arthur’s. “Oh, of course. I just-" 

You turn around on the spot, hastily going back to work. "I’ll meet you at the horses,” Arthur says behind you. His voice is warm, flowing down your back like a sweet caress. It tightens your chest how much you missed him talking to you. 

“I’ll be just a minute,” you manage to say, only able to catch your breath once you hear Arthur walking away.

After finishing the laundry, you pack what you’ll need for the trip and say goodbye to the other girls. Mary-Beth gives you a wary look when she hears that you’re riding out with Arthur, but you give her a big smile to reassure her that you’re alright.

Not that you are. On the one hand, you’re looking forward to working with Arthur again, and the trip might finally give you a chance to apologize, but on the other hand, you’re nervous as hell. It’s been so long since you’ve been alone with Arthur, and he might still be angry with you.

With your heart almost beating out of your chest, you walk over to Arthur. He already saddled up your horse, checking if everything is in place on his own mare. 

“Hey,” you say, trying to make him aware of you.

“You ready?” he asks, not looking up from what he’s doing. 

“Yes, I am,” you say, and when he stays silent, you feel the need to keep him engaged. “Where are we even going?”

Finally, Arthur looks at you before handing you the map Hosea gave him. When you reach for the paper, your fingers brush over Arthur’s skin. It’s warm and so weirdly familiar that this brief touch tightens your chest again while Arthur gets back to his work. 

You stare at the map, trying hard to level your breathing without Arthur noticing. Finally, Arthur pulls himself up on his horse. “Ready to go?” he asks, and you quickly climb onto your mare.

As you head out on the narrow path, you hold the map out to Arthur. He takes it back, his fingertips trailing over your skin this time. Arthur doesn’t react at all, but your body fills with heat, brought on by the memories that have been haunting you for months.

Your horse keeps pace with Arthur’s while your mind drifts off, remembering how everything started. At first, you were just thankful for Arthur saving you. Even in your short life, you had to learn that there were evil people in the world, especially men when faced with a young girl. Arthur was nothing like that. 

Despite his own claims to the contrary, you can’t bring yourself to think of him as bad. He might be robbing people, but he doesn’t lay a finger on them. Just like he always respected you. At first, you thought of him as a good friend, a little bitter or sarcastic at times, but also funny, kind, and awfully sweet if he wanted to be.

Your feelings for him changed one day when Arthur helped you down from one of the wagons when the gang was moving camp. He waved at you with outstretched arms before lifting you down. You held on to his broad shoulders while his large hands closed warm around your waist. He set you down on the ground and smiled, having your heart pounding like crazy.

Maybe you’ve read too many of Mary-Beth’s books, hoping for so much more than there was, but everything changed after this moment. You found yourself staring at Arthur at all times, and somehow he turned from a friend to a man. You were always aware of his body and his voice, your body reacting to him in ways that often took your breath away.

After a while, you found yourself wanting more, and when Hosea sent you on all these jobs together, you even tried to seduce Arthur. Not that you had much experience on how to do that, but usually, a little naked skin and closeness does the trick for most men. Arthur didn’t react at all, not even when sleeping with you in the same tent, making you want him even more.

And then there was your birthday. The dance put a final nail into your coffin. There was something about the way Arthur held you, how he effortlessly made you follow him, and twirled you around. You wanted for him to do more, to take you like those confident men who swept the women off their feet in the books. 

Arthur disappearing into the trees was a siren’s call to you, and when he walked to that secluded meadow, it seemed like fate. This could have been your fairytale, so you put up all your courage, offering yourself to him. You imagined it many times, but then Arthur kissed you in a way that was beyond your wildest dreams. You asked for a real kiss but never thought that it could be that good. 

Despite Arthur’s anger, you still can’t fully regret what you did. Now that Arthur showed you how he feels, you have to make your peace knowing that you’ll never be with him. But no matter if you die alone or find another man, you’ll at least have the memory of one perfect kiss.

“Are you hearing me?”

Arthur’s voice only slowly reaches your ears, stopping you from wallowing in your memories. “What?”

“Let’s head for the saloon over there. They might have rooms.”

You stare in the direction of his outstretched hand, your mind racing. You planned to apologize to Arthur once you made camp, in the silence of the night. You won’t have a chance for that in a noisy saloon. 

“But it’s still early,” you say. “We can make a few more miles until dusk.”

Arthur’s already steering his horse off the road. “We don’t have to. We already made more than half of the way. You’re better off with a real meal and a bed to sleep in.”

You bite your lip, hating that Arthur messes up your plan by looking out for you. It’s infuriating and sweet at the same time, the embodiment of Arthur. 

After hitching your horses outside, you venture into the saloon. For such a secluded place, it has quite the amount of customers, even more so considering the early hour. You walk to the bar with Arthur, where he orders two whiskeys, but before you’re able to drink, he suddenly taps your shoulder. “Excuse me for a second. I know these men over there.”

He walks over to a table where a bunch of rowdy fellers play poker, leaving you with a burning sensation where he touched you. You make up for it by downing one of the two glasses in one go, contemplating to drink the other, too. 

“Now, who would let a sweet girl like you drink alone?”

The high pitched voice behind you sends a shiver down your spine. You’ve had men talk to you like this many times, but it hasn’t happened since you’ve joined the gang. When you were out, you always had someone like Arthur or Charles with you who kept idiots at bay without even trying.

“I’m not alone,” you say, trying to spot Arthur, but you’re suddenly surrounded by four men.

The one who spoke to you before comes closer, putting an arm up on the bar to box you in. “I don’t see nobody.”

“My husband will be back any second,” you say, hating how weak your voice sounds.

The man gives you a wide grin, presenting his half-rotten teeth. “He’s not here now, missy. Only you and us.”

He trails his fingers over your hand, and you react without thinking. Using the element of surprise, you duck below his arm, sidestepping another guy before he can grab you. Basically flying through the room, you reach Arthur, immediately clinging to his arm. 

Both Arthur and the men at the table are staring at you in surprise, but nothing in this world could make you let go off Arthur now. “I missed you at the bar,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice is shaking a little.

Arthur takes a look at them, and his eyes narrow, a wild look appearing in them while you can see the muscles of his jaw clenching. He reaches into his pocket before turning back to the men at the table. “Anyway, I just wanted to pay back what I owe,” he says, handing a few dollars to one of the men, “no hard feelings, right?”

The man counts the money, a smile coming onto his face. “Of course, no hard feelings,” he says, sharing the money with the other men.

“Have a good day, gentlemen,” Arthur says, tipping his head. 

As Arthur turns, he pries your hand away from his arm, prompting you to protest, but then he puts his arm around you, his hand resting on your hip as you walk back to the bar. Arthur orders more drinks and keeps standing so close that you can feel his body against yours.

“So that’s your husband, missy?” the man with the high voice asks from the other end of the bar, letting your blood run cold. You forgot to mention that little detail to Arthur.

“Excuse me?” Arthur asks, an edge to his voice that you know. It never ends well for the person he’s talking to.

The man sneers at him. “I’m talking to her.”

“You don’t talk to my wife,” Arthur says, the words making you shiver. Then he steps in front of you, shielding you from view with his whole body.

The two men stare at each other in silence, and you know that something terrible is about to happen. The man moves his arm, there’s a loud bang, and then he falls backward, blood trickling down his forehead. All eyes are on him as he collides with the floor, his gun slipping out of his hand. 

Deep down, you seem to relive every lesson about shooting a gun that Arthur and John have given you. You step around Arthur, pulling his second gun out of its holster and pointing it right at the man’s face nearest to you. He stares down the barrel with wide eyes while Arthur trains his gun on one of the others. You know you’re outnumbered, but you won’t go down without a fight, and everybody in the saloon just saw that Arthur might be quicker than them.

The men look back and forth between you and Arthur, contemplating if they can take you. Before it can come to that, the poker players get to their feet, taking position behind you and Arthur. The man who took Arthur’s money rests his hand on his gun.

“The way I see it, your friend here was outta line. That’s really no way to talk to a married woman.” He looks around, and the other men in the saloon give small nods to agree with him. “I suggest you take him out of here and be on your way. We wanna play in peace, you understand?”

The men don’t move until Arthur slowly lowers his gun. You follow his lead, and the man in front of you steps back. They put their guns away to pick up the body and quickly make their way outside.

“Thank you,” Arthur says to the poker players, and the man who spoke just shrugs.

“Never liked those fellers anyway. You fancy a game?”

“No, we’ll better be on our way.”

“Suit yourself.”

The men go back to their game while Arthur puts his hand on your back, leading you outside. He unties the horses, constantly looking around. 

“Why are we going?” you say, your heart still pounding from what just happened. “Wouldn’t we be safer with these guys?”

“These guys are only friendly for a prize,” Arthur says. “And the men who left was O'Driscolls. I bet they’ll be back in numbers. We don’t want to be here when that happens.”

Arthur gets on his horse and holds out his hand to you. “Come on.”

“I have my own horse.”

“I won’t let you ride alone when those guys might come up behind us.”

Arthur just shot a guy because he didn’t like the way he talked to you. It’s probably useless to argue with him now. You take his hand, and he lifts you up with ease. “Hold on,” he says, and you happily reach around his waist, pressing yourself against his back.

Arthur spurs on his horse, quickly bringing it into a gallop, barely giving you time to whistle for your own horse to follow. You ride hard until the sun begins to go down. Arthur checks both sides of the road to find a good spot for camp, and you end up on a hilltop. A few large boulders shield you from view while the higher ground lets you see for miles in any direction. There’s no chance that anybody could sneak up on you here.

You get a fire going, and Arthur sets up a tent while you try to make a decent meal out of the provisions you brought along. When Arthur is done, he sits down on his bedroll, and you hand him a steaming bowl. 

“It’s not the decent meal you were talking about earlier,” you say, feeling guilty that Arthur’s plans got all messed up because of you.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Arthur says, bringing the bowl closer to smell its content. “I remember the great meals you used to make on our last jobs.”

You almost joke about that being a wife’s job, but while Arthur backed up your lie in the saloon, he might not find it funny. Instead, you eat your food in silence. When Arthur’s finished, he takes out his journal and writes, leaving you to stare into the fire. Everything is so nice and peaceful, you’re not quite sure if you should apologize to Arthur at all. What if that only rips open old wounds?

Sneaking a look at Arthur, you can see the difference in how he moves his pencil. He’s no longer writing but draws something. You tell yourself that it’s none of your business, but you’ve always loved Arthur’s art, and you are one of the few people he sometimes shows it to. Hoping that this might be something you can talk about, you crawl over to Arthur.

“What are you drawing?”

Arthur puts the pages together for a moment, looking like he’s embarrassed, but then he opens the journal and hands it to you. The drawing shows a campfire with a woman sitting in front of it, staring into the flames. You.

“You’re so good at this,” you say, your eyes fixed on the page. 

“Good at something useless,” Arthur grunts.

You have to disagree. It’s still a mystery to you how someone can capture life and emotions with a pencil and paper. The woman in the drawing looks lost, though. You won’t be able to just forget what happened, you have to talk to Arthur.

Putting down the journal, you take a deep breath. “Arthur, I’m sorry.”

He studies your face for a long moment, deep in thought. “Sorry for what?”

“The kiss,” you blurt out before you lose your courage. “You’ve always been such a good friend, and I took advantage of that. I asked you because I knew that you wouldn’t say no. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Arthur says, and you feel like hitting him for taking any of the blame.

“You were right to be angry. I should have known that you’d never feel the same way about me.”

Arthur takes a deep breath as if it’s hard for him to say the following words. “If you was a little older, or I was a bit younger-”

Arthur trails off, but your heart is already pounding. You thought that Arthur doesn’t feel anything for you, but here he is, drawing your picture and worrying about your age, not angry about the kiss at all.

“I thought you didn’t like me, Arthur.”

“Jesus, girl,” Arthur huffs, almost amused, “of course I like you. You’re right out perfect. It just doesn’t matter what I feel. It’s just not right.”

“It matters to me,” you say, your voice breathless as hope blooms in your heart, “I don’t care about the age difference.”

Arthur’s lost for words for a moment, but then he shrugs. “It’s not just that. You deserve way better than me.”

Usually, you’re not one to get your way. You accept what others tell you and move on, putting their wishes above yours. This can’t be one of those times. It’s too important, and you couldn’t live with yourself if you didn’t try everything to be happy. 

“I might be young, but I’m not naive or stupid. I know that you’re not perfect, but neither are the ranchers who hurt their cattle or the merchants who draw up the prices when the poor can barely pay them,” you say, talking yourself into a frenzy. “Unlike those fancy dressed crooks in the big city, you are so much more.”

Arthur lifts his hand as if to interrupt you, but for once, you don’t let him, continuing your tirade. “I fell in love with you because you’re kind, funny, and caring. You’re not lining your own pockets, but do whatever you have to to help your family and even strangers. You don’t take pleasure from cruelty, but manage to ease other people’s misery and pain. You’re a good person, Arthur. I really don’t see how I could possibly do better.”

Staring at you out of big eyes, Arthur opens his mouth, but nothing comes out until he clears his throat, his voice still hoarse when he speaks. “In love?”

It’s unnerving that this is the one thing Arthur took from this, but you said it, and there’s no point in denying it. “Yes, I love you, Arthur,“ you say, shrugging your shoulders. "I’m old enough to know that I want to be with you. Not a better or younger version of you, but you just the way you are.“

Arthur drops his head, his eyes fixed on the flames in front of him. You would give anything to know what he’s thinking, but you won’t ask. You said everything you wanted to say, and if that’s not enough for Arthur, then there’s nothing you can do.

When Arthur looks back up at you, there’s an expression on his face you’ve never seen before. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, your heart racing in your chest. All you know is that whatever Arthur’s about to say next will decide your future together.

——–

Everything you said to Arthur is swirling around in his head, making him dizzy. For months, he tried to get over you, and Arthur only agreed to let you come along because he was sure he finally got his feelings under control. He should have known better.

What happened in the saloon showed Arthur how afraid he was to lose you, and calling you his wife, even as a ruse, made him happier than anything in a long time. After what you just told Arthur, the two of you can’t go back to things how they were before, and he has to admit that you’re right. You’re able to make your own decisions, and if you decided – for whatever reason – that you wanted to be with him, then who is he to take that away from you? 

Arthur‘s heart sings at the mere thought of giving in. No matter his feelings of right and wrong, nobody can blame him for losing this battle, not if you’re sitting there, begging him with all that you have to allow the two of you to be happy.

When Arthur looks into your eyes, the longing in his heart grows so unbearable that he can’t take it anymore. He opens his arms, inviting you in. "Come here.“

You fly into Arthur’s arms without a second of hesitation, proving once more that he’s doing the right thing. Arthur pulls you into his lap, and you put your arms around his neck, making him look up into your beautiful face.

"I tried for so long,“ he says, defeat in his voice. "I can’t get you out of my head.“

Arthur trails his fingers along your cheek as you smile at him. "You’re not supposed to.“

He draws you in, and you follow, letting him kiss you. Arthur thought there could be nothing better than your first kiss, but nothing compares to this one. This time, there’s nothing bad or shameful about it. 

You melt against Arthur’s body, your hands running through his hair while he holds you close, not wanting to let go ever again. Arthur wouldn’t mind staying like this forever, but you roll your hips, grinding against him.

"Arthur, I want you,” you say, looking at him in a way that makes his heart miss a beat, but then you cast your eyes down as if ashamed. “If you want me, too.”

Every impure thought that Arthur had about you rushes through his mind, and he has a hard time not to throw you down to the ground and have his way with you. After all, you deserve much better than that. He’ll respect your wishes, but he still feels like it’s his responsibility to protect you.

“Of course I want you,” he says, his words getting you to look at him again, “but we have time. There’s no need to rush anything.”

“Rush?” I’ve been thinking about this for a long time.“ You let out a little laugh before running your hand over your face as if you want to hide. "I even tried seducing you when we were alone, but you never seemed to care.”

Arthur can’t help that his mouth falls open, thinking about all those times he had to hold himself back. “You did that on purpose?”

“What do you think? I don’t just undress in front of everybody,” you say, playing with the buttons on Arthur’s shirt.

“You gave me such a hard time with that,” Arthur says with a sigh. “This is already bad enough.”

He’s holding you by the hips, feeling how you begin to move on top of him. “Then maybe I should try one more time,” you whisper.

You reach down to unbutton your dress, pushing down your chemise. This time, Arthur looks without reservation before leaning in and kissing the exposed skin. You bury your fingers in his hair, still rolling your hips, and Arthur has to admit to himself that you might not be as innocent as you seem. It makes no sense to treat you like a delicate flower when you’re actually the storm.

Arthur reaches down to hike up your skirt, his fingers trailing along the soft skin of your thighs. You hold still but reach down to help him, pulling your dress up right over your head. It takes a little fumbling, but it’s worth it. Having you sit on top of him in your thin chemise brings heat to Arthur’s whole body, and he can’t help that he’s getting painfully hard in his pants.

There’s a knowing grin on your face, almost as if you’re mocking him, and Arthur can’t take it anymore. He lifts you up and leans forward, carefully putting you down on his bedroll. Without hesitation, Arthur pulls up the skirt, and you wiggle under him, letting him undress you fully.

Arthur can’t remember having seen anything so beautiful in his entire life. In the dim light of the fire, your skin has a lovely glow, your body a perfect combination of straight lines and inviting curves. If he wasn’t so desperate to touch you, Arthur would have loved to draw you like this.

With his fingers, Arthur follows a line from your cheek along your neck, tracing your collarbone and climbing up the swell of your breast. Your nipple hardens under his touch, and Arthur can’t help but lean in and suck it into his mouth. You let out a surprised gasp, soon followed by barely audible moans when Arthur keeps teasing your breasts with both lips and hands.

You reach for him, eagerly pushing down his suspenders, and Arthur comes up for a moment to let you get him out of his shirt. Your eyes roam over his naked chest while your hands massage his muscles, coming to rest on his shoulders. You draw Arthur in, letting him kiss your breasts and stomach while your fingers dig into the skin on his back. 

Arthur moves even lower, his hands closing around your thighs. You eagerly open your legs for him, giving him a first look at the sweet locks that cover your mount and lips. Arthur traces his fingers in a swirling line through them before touching your soft center. You gasp again when Arthur pushes between your folds, enticing wetness greeting him. 

He wouldn’t mind teasing you some more, but you reach for him, beckoning him to come back to you. “Arthur, please.”

Arthur follows your plea, crawling over your body, his arms propped up next to your face. You pull him in for a kiss, your tongue licking into his mouth as if you might die without his taste. You keep him close like this while your hands wander down his chest and to his pants. You pry them open, getting hot waves to roll all over Arthur’s body.

The anticipation is unbearable, and Arthur moans against your lips when you finally close your fingers around his cock to get him out of his pants. Free from the enclosure, you reward him with slow strokes along his whole lengths, making Arthur bite his lip.

You soothe him with soft kisses, but you’re just as desperate, your hips moving under him. “Take me, Arthur, please.”

Arthur wishes he could show more restraint, but he’s dreamed about this way too often in too many ways to hold back now. He runs the tip of his cock through your folds, using your wetness to get himself slick as well, and when your fingers dig into his shoulders, Arthur pushes in. 

You’re so hot and tight, he hopes he can keep this up and goes as slowly as he can. You still gasp in surprise, and more sighs and moans break out of you when Arthur conquers you inch by inch. Once he’s fully sheeted inside of you, Arthur holds still, enjoying the feeling of being close.

“You okay?” he whispers against your lips, and you take a deep breath before being able to reply.

“God, yes,” you sigh, rolling your hips again.

Arthur dares to move with you. You kiss, again and again, hands roaming over heated skin, while Arthur pushes into you at a steady pace. Your hands wander around Arthur’s neck, and soon you seem to hold on for dear life. With your breathing speeding up, Arthur knows you won’t make it much longer, and the harder he thrusts into you, the more desperate become your moans.

Leaning in to kiss and bite your neck, Arthur finally throws you over the edge. Your thighs shake as you come, your muscles clenching around Arthur’s cock. You cling to him, whispering profanities he never thought you capable of knowing, and it becomes harder and harder for him to hold back.

Still, Arthur tries not to overwhelm you, but you keep moving, spurring him on. “Please, Arthur. I want you, I want all of you.”

With your beautiful, young body moving under him in ecstasy, Arthur can’t hold back his lust. His fingers dig hard into your flesh as he buries himself deep in your hot core, filling you up with his come.

You’re both drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Arthur wishes he could ask if you’re alright, but he doesn’t have enough air. Instead, you share a few soft kisses. Despite that first wave of satisfaction, Arthur can’t stop touching you. His fingers trace over your smooth skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Arthur’s been thinking about being with you for so long, he feels as if he’s in a dream. He kisses his way down your body, and when his hands massage your thighs, you open his legs for him. Arthur trails his fingers over your soft lips, making you roll your hips.

Teased like this, Arthur can see how your muscles work, and his come is swelling out of you, trickling down. The sight steers something inside of Arthur. It’s as if he marked you, finally making you his. 

He can’t help but touch you, and the urge to taste you as well overcomes him. Arthur leans in, running his tongue over your clit, and you let out a surprised moan. With his hands on your thighs, Arthur keeps teasing you with his tongue. 

He doesn’t mind his own taste that’s soon replaced with yours, your moans and soft cries growing more urgent. The way you move under Arthur steers up his own arousal. Caught between your legs like this, he can’t hold in his own moans.

You bury your fingers in Arthur’s hair, lifting your hips and urging him on with pleas for more. He happily indulges you, teasing you with his fingers as well as his mouth until you let out a frustrated groan.

Arthur stops and looks up to you, and before he can ask if you’re alright, you already push him back by the shoulders. The second he’s on his back, you crawl on top of him, rubbing yourself against his hardening cock. 

You lean in and kiss Arthur, taking heavy breaths in between. All he can do is hold on to your hips as you lift yourself up to push him inside of you again. Trapped in your tight heat, Arthur lets his head fall back. 

He might have marked you today, but at this moment, Arthur knows that you did so long ago. Arthur’s been yours from the start, and that won’t ever change, not as long as you’ll have him.

———

You dreamed about being with Arthur many times, but none of it compares to the real thing. His every touch sets you on fire, waking a lust inside of you that you’ve never known before. Longing to be close, you keep kissing Arthur, your body pressed against his as you move your hips to feel him deep inside of you.

All of it still seems like a dream, and you have the urge to make the most of it, feeling and tasting Arthur, desperate to make as many memories of this moment as you can.

Your eager cries fill the night, mixed in with Arthur’s moans, the both of you too desperate to hold back. You claw and bite, leaving marks on each other’s skin. The thought of the other gang members seeing them turns you on more than you ever thought possible. 

Now that Arthur finally agreed to be with you, you want everybody else to know. You kiss along Arthur’s neck and suck the skin between your teeth, biting down enough to make Arthur growl. His fingers dig hard into your hips, and he holds you in place while he thrusts into you. 

Arthur’s cock hits you deeply as he slides in and out of you with lewd sounds, and from one second to the other, everything becomes too much. You bury your face against Arthur’s neck as you fall over the edge, waves of pleasure rolling all over your body.

You cling to Arthur, and he holds you tight, his hips bucking as you shake on top of him. He moans against your ear, filling you up with his come as your clenching muscles tighten around him. 

For a while, you just stay like this, enjoying the warmth of Arthur’s body against your own. His fingertips trail softly over the skin on your back, and when your eyes threaten to fall shut, Arthur gets you to move.

After helping you into your chemise, Arthur carries you into the tent, and the second he lies down, you cuddle up to him. Arthur kisses your forehead and puts his arms around you as if he never wants to let go again. 

You just lie there for a while until Arthur lets out a long sigh. “I fell in love with you, too, you know. Pretty much from the start.”

Warmth spreads in your chest, and you bury your face in the crook of Arthur’s neck. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

“Do me a favor then?” Arthur says, the words turning into a question.

“Anything.”

“Next time, just tell me right away what’s good for us. I’m an idiot most of the time.”

You laugh, but run your hand over Arthur’s chest as if to wash the thought away. “You’re my idiot now, so don’t worry, I’ll tell you.”

“Thank you, darling,” Arthur says, squeezing you slightly. 

You close your eyes, feeling safer and more comfortable than ever before in your life. Everything bad in your past just drifts away, making room for happiness and a future you only ever dared to dream about. 

“You were right,” you say. “It’s just books. This was so much better.”

Arthur chuckles, and you fall asleep to the sound of it, the first time of many over the years to come.

[inkedstarlight]

Nesta and Cassian are at war. They won't admit they like each other, and are playing a game to see who can get the other more worked up and sexually frustrated and eventually break. Nesta wins by flashing Cassian

This was WAY longer than I intended it to be, I got carried away. Who doesn’t when it comes to Nessian?  I hope you enjoy this! I also posted it on AO3 here.

It began two weeks ago.

They were at Rita’s. The night was young, and the alcohol was flowing. Nesta had been looking forward to going out; she’d spent endless hours editing books throughout the past week. She desperately needed a break, and it couldn’t have come at a better time.

Most of her friend group went out that night, sans Feyre and Rhysand. They took ‘PDA’ to a whole other level. A level that Nesta did not enjoy watching.

She’d been doing shots with Amren when her favorite song began to play over the speakers. Nesta gave her best friend a knowing look.

It’s dance time, bitch, Nesta communicated silently to Amren.

And just like that, the two girls were rushing to the dance floor, stilettos tapping on the wooden floor.

Amren resembled a siren in a deep blue dress that clung to her long legs, the neckline plunging to reveal her impressive assets. Strands of silky black hair framed her dark face, and her plump lips were tilted into a perpetual smirk. Next to her, Nesta was clad in red satin. The dress flowed to her ankles, a long slit revealing the entirety of her bare leg, teasing what lay beneath. Both women were forces to be reckoned with, unrelenting and strong. But together? They could dominate the goddamn world.

Amren had crooked a finger toward Nesta to usher her closer. Nesta happily obliged, a laugh bubbling in her throat as she drunkenly placed her midnight acrylic nails on Amren’s waist. When the chorus played, Nesta and Amren started moving. Their hips swayed in a tantalizing dance, teasing any man or woman who dared to watch them. This was a typical night for Amren. But Nesta? She had never danced like this before, at least not in public.

Then again, she’d never been this drunk in public.

Thank you, Svedka.

A laugh escaped her as Amren twerked right in front of Nesta. Amren was infamous for her dance moves, especially the ‘booty clap.’ Nesta remembered when Elain finally convinced Amren to teach her. They had all laughed at her. So it came as a bit of surprise when Elain nailed it on the first try, her ass shaking more than Amren’s did. Azriel’s face was priceless; he didn’t think anyone noticed, but Nesta saw everything. Including the telling look in his eyes.

He’s been on her radar since.

Inhibitions thrown out the window, Nesta joined Amren, the pair giggling uncontrollably as they bumped into others on the dance floor. It was packed with people. Nesta’s skin sheened with sweat, her golden hair sticking to the back of her neck.

At that moment, Nesta had felt a pair of eyes roving up and down her body. She didn’t even need to look to see who it was.

Cassian and her had become friends. He was the only person (besides Amren) who she hung out with individually. Those instances were few and far between, though. Cassian worked when Nesta was off. Nesta worked when Cassian was off. She couldn’t remember the last time it had been just them.

After Nesta had broken up with Tomas just a few months ago, things between her and Cassian were… taut. He’d never been a fan of her ex-boyfriend, especially when Tomas had told her she could no longer talk to Cassian. It ended pretty quickly after that.

Nesta was always aware of the touch of his gaze on her. She sensed it, whether they were at the bar, drinking wine, playing games, or eating dinner. It had become difficult to control the urge to stare right back at him. Not only because he was a sight for sore eyes but also, she loved the way his expression changed when he gazed at her.

Nesta finally looked up to find Cassian watching from the bar, nostrils flared. Undressing her with his eyes.

Jesus fucking Christ, Nesta thought to herself, nearly fanning her face to compensate for the heat that was rushing to her core. He didn't need to know that though.

Nesta simply blew a kiss at him and continued dancing. Now that she knew what was on Cassian’s mind, Nesta faced away from where he stood and began grinding against Amren, who encouraged her with catcalls.

Take that.

Gods, she sounded like a child. Someone needed to stop her.

Just moments later, he approached them. Amren spotted him first, smirking as she took a step away and said, “I’m going to get another drink.”

Before Nesta could ask for another gin and tonic, a strong, familiar hand grabbed Nesta’s arm, and she whipped around to find herself face-to-face with Cassian. Why wasn’t she surprised?

Nesta’s cheeks were flushed as she looked up at the towering man with bright eyes. The smirk on her lips was a challenge in and of itself.

“My turn,” Cassian rumbled.

Nesta didn’t argue as she was pulled against his hard body. She clasped her hands on the back of his neck, his hands reaching to grip her lower back. She inhaled his intoxicating scent. She didn’t get the chance to do so often. It was like she was getting drunk on an otherworldly drug. Her chest rose and fell with heavy breaths.

Neither of them said a word.

Cassian looked down at her, heat flaring in his eyes. Then, he twisted her in his arms until her back was flush against his broad chest. She nearly melted against his warmth. It was like he’d put her under a spell.

A new song started to play. It was seductive, slow, and wicked. The bass reverberated through Nesta’s chest, amplifying the beating of her heart. Cassian slowly ran his hands down her sides, his face burying into her exposed neck. Nesta gasped when she felt his teeth gently sink down on her skin. Goosebumps formed on her arms.

She heard him chuckle into her skin. Laughing at her. At the reaction he so easily got out of her.

Fine, she thought to herself smugly. Two can play this game.

Nesta pulled even closer as she began grinding her ass against his growing hardness. She drifted down his body as she sunk to the floor seductively, slowly bending up to rub her ass in circles against him. She pulled his hands into her own, guiding them down her waist, past her hips, to the large slit that barely covered her leg. Cassian circled his thumb over her upper thigh.

“I’ve been wanting to do this all night,” he whispered into her hair.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for months,” Nesta said before she could think.

He turned her around in his arms.

“Is that so?” he murmured, a cocky grin on his face.

Shit. Nesta groaned inwardly as she unintentionally inflated his enormous ego.

“Maybe when we first met. But then you opened your rutting mouth, and any desire quickly vanished.”

He growled. “You’re not a very good liar.”

“Who says I’m lying?” she further goaded him. Their chests were pressed against each other, both of them breathing heavily from the tension. Nesta couldn’t pull away even if she wanted to.

“You want this,” Cassian stated. It wasn’t a question.

“I bet you want it more.” Nesta couldn’t help the words leave her lips. She was a competitive person at nature, but Cassian? There wasn’t a word for how far Cassian would go to win a fucking game of ping pong.

“Hardly, sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. He was confident.

“Please,” Nesta rolled her eyes, slapping his hand from her face. “I could go my entire life without laying a hand on you.”

He snorted with amusement. “I doubt it.”

Nesta tilted her head up to look him directly in the eye. “Try me.”

“It’s on.”

Nesta knew it was a mistake to say it. She knew he would accept it as a challenge.

And thus began a war between two impossibly competitive, horny friends.

What could possibly go wrong?

A lot. A lot can go fucking wrong.

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Nesta learned this the next day.

Nesta was roommates with Amren and Elain. Feyre and Rhysand lived next to them, with Azriel and Cassian living across from them. Mor was the only one smart enough to find another apartment complex nearby where she lived with her girlfriend.

Nearly all of them resided in the same apartment, something Amren and Nesta found insufferable. Some days, Nesta seriously questioned the logic of that decision.

Today was one of those days.

She had just returned from work. It was about seven o’ clock in the evening, the sun setting in the clear sky. The apartment was quiet with Amren still at her job and Elain studying in her room. Nesta let out a deep breath, exhaling all the stress she had been carrying.

Just as Nesta was about to get in her pajamas and make pancakes for dinner, someone knocked.

Are you kidding me?

Nesta groaned, her slippers tapping on the floor as she went to greet the person who so rudely interrupted. Nesta threw her hands up in the air when she saw Cassian in her goddamn doorway.

“What do you want?” she asked with a frustrated moan.

I mean, really. Who the fuck lives next to all their closest friends?

In all honesty, Nesta had forgotten about their conversation last night. Perhaps it would be considered a debate. Either way, she had been too hungover this morning to even process what had happened.

But now, with Cassian standing in her doorway, she remembered.

Nesta didn’t bother to invite him inside as she returned to the kitchen.

“It’s good to see you too, Nesta.” Amusement laced his voice, trailing behind her until he reached the kitchen island. Nesta watched as he leaned back on the counter with ease. He shot her a casual grin. As if he was welcome in her apartment.

Asshole.

“Seriously, what do you want?” Nesta retrieved the pancake mix from the counter.

“My shower’s broken.”

“And?” She began whisking the batter, barely glancing at the man in front of her.

“I need to use yours,” he told her.

Nesta’s head snapped up. “No way. Go to Rhysand’s.”

“He and Feyre are on a date,” he said matter-of-factly. Peering into the bowl, Cassian asked, “Are you putting in chocolate chips? I love pancakes with chocolate.”

“Use your spare key,” Nesta rolled her eyes as she stated the obvious, ignoring his question.

“I lost it.” Cassian shrugged his shoulders as if to say, ‘What can you do?’

Nesta stopped whisking the batter and looked up at the arrogant bastard standing in her kitchen. She crossed her arms. “Isn't that convenient.”

“Please, Nesta. It will only take five minutes.”

Nesta checked the oven clock. If she kept arguing with him, she wouldn’t get to eat until eight. And she knew from experience that Cassian didn’t give up easy.

“Fine,” she stubbornly relented. “There are extra towels in the linen closet. Don’t use Amren’s shampoo or she’ll kill you.” She shooed him away before he could thank her.

Thirty minutes later, and Nesta was satisfied after eating a shit ton of pancakes. She didn’t bother walking to the bathroom and yelling at Cassian, who did not take five minutes. He was still in the damn shower.

Now, with a full stomach and clean dishes, Nesta headed toward her bedroom to finally change out of her work clothes. When she opened the door, she stopped dead at what lay in front of her.

Cassian was in her bed with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was lying against her pillows, hair still damp from the shower. A book rested in his hands.

“Hi, sweetheart,” Cassian smirked as he took in her expression.

Nesta willed herself to say something, anything. But the sight of a half-naked Cassian lying in her bed was a sight to behold. One that she wouldn’t mind capturing with her camera.

That’s when Nesta noticed what he was reading.

No, no no.

“Why the fuck are you reading my book?” Nesta fumed, beelining to the bed to snatch it from his hands.

Cassian was too quick, though. He held the book out of reach, tsking her. “But I’m just getting to the good part."

His grin was wicked as he showed off the cover of an explicitly smutty romance book. It was probably the worst book he could have chosen. It was certainly the most adult book in her collection.

“Give it to me,” Nesta gritted her teeth, blood boiling.

Cassian didn’t break eye contact when he slid the book behind his back, hands surrendering in the air. Then those words left his mouth.

“Make me.”

And that’s when Nesta tackled her half-naked friend in her bedroom.

She didn’t know whose limbs were whose as they wrestled with each other, rolling around on her queen-sized mattress, no doubt getting her comforter wet.

It was only thirty seconds into the match when Cassian had her pinned beneath him, their breath mingling with each other.

“What a compromising position you’ve gotten us into, sweetheart,” Cassian murmured quietly. His hazel eyes scanned her face as if he were trying to read her thoughts.

Nesta’s entire body was flush beneath Cassian. Her pink lips were parted as she stared up at him, golden hair fanning the pillow she laid on. She didn’t know what to say... or do. Should she throw him off her and kick him out? Or pull him down and kiss those full lips until the Earth stopped spinning beneath them?

She chose the former.

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Four days had gone by since Nesta’s last encounter with Cassian. She’d pushed him off her, grabbed her book, and told him to get the fuck out. She had been quite aggressive.

She had no idea where they stood. What were they even doing? What was this sinfully delightful game they were playing? And most importantly, was he only acting like this because of the little challenge between them? Or was it real?

Nesta didn’t have the answers to any of her questions. She did, however, know this: If Cassian asked her to go on a date tomorrow, her answer would be yes.

Gods, I’m knee-deep in shit.

Elain had been quite curious as to what exactly happened that evening in their apartment. She claimed she heard the occasional yelling, but she certainly didn’t want to risk going to Nesta’s room and witnessing something she would never be able to unsee.

Nesta’s explanation? “Cassian is infuriating and sexy as sin and I hate him.”

Technically, it's the truth.

Today was Friday, meaning it was Feyre and Rhysand’s turn to host potluck. Meaning Cassian would be there. Meaning Nesta didn’t know what the hell was going to happen tonight.

Elain, Amren, and Nesta didn’t bother knocking as they invited themselves into the apartment. At this point, they had a tradition: Elain baked dessert, Amren supplied the wine, Rhysand concocted the main dish, and Cassian made ‘second dessert.’ The latter was established when Mor ate six cupcakes during a dinner several months ago. Six cupcakes. All by herself.

Nesta couldn't help but be impressed.

Everyone had already arrived when they entered. They all greeted each other, placing dishes on the counter top. They all sat down at the dinner table when Nesta realized who was missing.

“Where’s Cassian?” Nesta blurted out before she could think twice. Amren smirked at her from across the table.

“He said he’s going to be a couple minutes late,” Feyre explained as she passed the heaving dish of mashed potatoes to Rhysand. “Something about his asshole boss.”

Everyone filled up their plates with delicious, homemade food and immediately began to dig in.

Nesta didn’t listen to their conversations, instead staring down at her phone as she waited for Cassian to arrive. She didn’t bother touching her food, at least not until he sat down with a full plate.

Ten minutes later, the door shut as a tall figure entered the dining room. Cassian bowed sarcastically as their friends applauded his late presence.

Nesta couldn’t help but notice the exhaustion that shadowed his face. Deep purple bags hung from his eyes, but he smiled nonetheless.

Then he caught sight of Nesta.

Her heart raced in anticipation, waiting for him to acknowledge her. That, or ignore her for the rest of the night.

His smile only deepened as he took her in. Her cheeks flushed with rouge, returning the gesture.

Their friends continued their conversations as Nesta watched Cassian fill his plate to the brim. He approached the table and placed his dinner right next to Nesta. Her brows furrowed.

“The empty chair is over there,” she pointed to the other end of the table. Cassian didn’t acknowledge her as he walked to the other end of the table, picked up the only empty chair, and slid it to the spot next to Nesta.

Everyone watched curiously as Cassian settled down next to her. He shot her a grin, ignoring the fact that he just made quite the effort to be next to her. And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Hi,” he greeted her casually, voice rough from hours of working. Cassian nodded to her untouched plate. “Not hungry?”

“Not particularly,” Nesta lied, just as her stomach gurgled with noises of hunger. Cassian raised his brows.

Great.

Nesta sighed. “I was just waiting for you to get here before I started eating. But now that your grumpy ass has arrived, I'm ready to devour this meal.”

She stared down at her food, poking asparagus with her fork as she took her first bite. When she reached for her wine glass, she noticed that Cassian hadn’t moved. That he was staring directly at her.

“What?” Nesta asked confusedly. “Is there food on my face?”

Cassian simply shook his head, and Nesta looked closer to see the softness of his expression. The tenderness that lay behind his eyes.

“Nothing,” he murmured, and continued to eat dinner quietly.

Just ten minutes later, people were grabbing seconds. That's when Cassian leaned down to whisper in Nesta’s ear. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

Nesta nearly burst out laughing. She wasn’t wearing a trace of makeup, and her hair was in a haphazard ponytail. She'd finally learned to practice self-love after years of depression. She could confidently say that she wholly appreciated her body, her curves, her uneven skin tone. But to be called gorgeous when she didn't make any effort into her appearance? Men simply did not function like that.

“You’re beautiful, Nesta. When you’re wearing that red satin dress or you’re in your work clothes or in your pajamas. Even in a fucking paper bag. You’re a beautiful woman,” Cassian whispered to her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. He seemed to read her mind. Nesta was at a loss for words.

Then, he added, “Also, you’re incredibly fuckable.”

Nesta’s head snapped up to see if anyone heard but no one was looking their way.

“You think I forgot about our little game?” Cassian’s hand disappeared under the tablecloth and rested on Nesta’s thigh. “You think I’d give up that easy, sweetheart?”

Nesta grabbed her wine glass, trying to conceal the shakiness of her hand. She took a large gulp. And another one.

Cassian chuckled deeply in her ear. “You like when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?”

Nesta bit her lip as Cassian’s warm hand travelled further up her thigh, the thin layer of her leggings providing little to no barrier between their skin.

“I wonder what would happen when I talked to you like this - " His hand was just an inch away from her heated core “ - and touched you like this?”

Cassian’s hand cupped her, and Nesta barely held back her moan. Elain shot her an odd look, and that’s when Nesta jumped up and pushed herself from the table.

“I, uh… “ she stuttered as all her friends looked at her confusing outburst. “I forgot that I…  need to fix my toilet. I should go work on that.”

“Can’t that wait?” Feyre asked quizzically. She gestured to the chair. “Don’t worry about that now.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t notice anything wrong with the toilet,” Elain piped up, confusion riddled on her freckled face.

Nesta froze. Gods, this was not going well.

“I used it before we left and there’s definitely something wrong… uh, Cassian?” He looked up at where she stood. “Can you help me?”

He didn’t even hesitate (Gods bless him) as he got up and strode to her side. “Yeah, that sounds serious. Wouldn’t want the bathroom to flood.”

The pair stared at each other, entirely baffled at the horrible performance that they were somehow executing.

“Cassian doesn’t even know how - “

“Okay, bye. Thanks for dinner!” Nesta said loudly, dragging Cassian behind her before Azriel could finish his sentence.

They reached the hallway and let out a deep breath. Nesta looked at Cassian. Cassian looked back at her.

And they burst out laughing.

“Your toilet? ” Cassian choked out.

“I didn’t see you coming up with anything better!”

Their laughter died down and they remained just inches away in the hallway.

Nesta didn’t even have the time to process what was happening as Cassian crossed the short distance between them and backed Nesta into the wall.

“Fuck the game,” he growled roughly.

Cassian cupped her cheeks, tilted her chin, and crushed his lips against hers. Nesta moaned in response, gripping his long black hair to tug him closer. She wanted nothing more than for him to carry her into his apartment and fuck her until she could barely move.

Nesta felt Cassian smile against her lips, and the corners of her mouth lifted up. Cassian then gripped her thighs and wrapped them around his waist with ease. Nesta pulled herself into his chest and squeezed her legs around him. He growled into her mouth. They didn’t stop kissing.

“I win,” Nesta whispered as Cassian led her to his bed.

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Save Me From Myself - Leone Abbacchio

The best thing that could ever happen in my life is to become a part of the gang Passione - Or, to be more specific, a part of Buccellati’s team, filled with people with so many past issues that somehow manage to work together and support each other with everything they’ve got, despite their huge differences.

We have, from youngest to oldest, we have:

Giorno, a super cute and pure angel of a kid who is super smart and ambitious. Fugo, a super smart and caring yet hella violent kid who can’t control his temper. Narancia, ADD kiddo who behaves like a 10 year old, but is funny and has nice dance moves. Mista, hella funny guy and easy going, but can get distracted by weird things. Bruno, the mum of the group, everyone loves and looks up to him. And we have Abbacchio, who’s the oldest, acts somehow like the responsible dad of the group, yet he’s more of a very gloomy wine dad.

Of course, being a part of Bruno’s team, we already know each other’s backstories and we know how to support and protect each other when we need it, both morally and emotionally, since, after all, nobody is made of ice or stone.

But that is something that perhaps neither Abbacchio nor I chose to admit...Or maybe we already know that, but we don’t want to say it out loud, because if we do, it will make it real, and we don’t want the bad parts to be real.

When we have pair up missions, I’d usually be paired with Abbacchio, since apparently, we make quite a good team, and can’t say that I complain - He knows when to stay silent, when to make a witty or sarcastic comment, has very nice dark jokes and can be a great conversation partner, especially when it comes to music and bands.

What I realised, however, that I’m not sure everyone knows, is that Abbacchio has a dose of self-hatred so large that it would include the dose of everyone from the team...No, rather said, of all Italy.

Unfortunately, when you’re someone like me, you can easily realise when someone isn’t doing mentally and emotionally too well, and what’s worse, as an empath, you can feel it just like an arrow impaling your heart.

It’s already been about a year since Giorno joined our team and for some reason, things started taking a turn for the unexpected whenever we’d have our weekly restaurant gatherings.

It all started when Mista got himself a girlfriend, and honestly, everyone was shocked because so far, nobody actually had any kind of love life, but we were all super proud and happy for him. He has always been a fun and easy going guy, very adventurous and this charm of his unexpectedly drew interesting girls to him, and managed to get completely head over heels with one.

Three weeks later, Mista couldn’t come to the hang out because he was taking his girlfriend on a date out of the city, but we found out that Giorno, with his really cute tricks and natural innocent charm, found himself in a relationship with a flower girl, very kind and sweet. They met when she was walking her puppy and he pulled on the leash so hard that she fell, but Giorno caught her and helped her out with the puppy, and it was love at first sight.

Of course, we were all very happy for them, because obviously, Giorno deserves the best in life...

And yet, it was weird when we were so few at the table at weekend hang outs.

It didn’t take long for Bruno to fall for a beautiful singer at a jazz bar, who, he found out, always bought meals for children of the streets and bought them clothes and tried to take care of them the best she could.

And now that our Mum friend was busy with his beloved, we are told by Fugo that he also managed to find a girl who is extremely calm, patient and intelligent, just his type, and they are planning a few museum and bookshop dates, as well of some very chill hang outs in the park.

Not even a week later, it was only me, Abbacchio and Narancia at the table, but the little duck was overly enthusiastic today, and told us that he found a girl who doesn’t mind his energetic and airhead personality and wants to take HIM out on an arcade date, and he needs some dating advice so he wouldn’t screw up.

“These kids are so pure and adorable, don’t you think, Leone?” I let out an amused breath, realising that, by now, it was only I and him at the table. “Yeah...They are. they deserve it.” he nodded simply, yet he seemed to not be over with his thoughts. “You seem like you want to say something else. Do you have anything on your mind that you’d like to share?...Hold up, is that lipstick on your neck?” I ask in a gentle voice, that turned into a gasp, which made him hum as he closed his eyes and think over, trying to wipe away the lipstick from his skin. “Well, I suppose I should say it after all. I asked a girl out and we’re going on a date next weekend, so I won’t be present for our weekly hang out...Not that it would make much of a difference, considering we’re the only ones left.” hearing him say that so nonchalantly, broke my heart in very little pieces, but at the same time, I was happy for him. “Woaw, that’s great, I’m so happy for you, Abba! I hope she’s everything you wish for and that you’ll both be happy together!” I congratulated him, but he only let out an amused breath, looking away slightly. “Yeah...Thanks, I guess.” he spoke in a low voice, seemingly absent minded. “You still have something on your mind -... No, rather said, on your heart. Is it something you’d rather keep to yourself?” I ask in a softer voice, leaning a bit on the table. “I’m not sure...” he trailed on, before glancing at him, blinking but not saying anything for a while. “Well, doesn’t matter, I’m not really a talker anyway. I have to go. See you around, Kat.” he nodded at me before leaving the restaurant, leaving me alone. “Bye...” I mutter to myself, staring at the empty seat in front of me.

It was then that I was reminded just how alone I really was, even when surrounded by people that I hold dear, and in turn, hold me dear... Well, not that it really mattered now anyway, since I was truly alone now, both spiritually and physically.

I got up from my seat and started walking around the city aimlessly, not really knowing what to do. When everyone else wasn’t so busy, I’d cling on one of them, depending on the mood I had at the moment...But now?  Now I feel like nothing more than a wingless bird, or a paper plane in the wind, just trying to stay in the air.

Everywhere I looked, everyone was happy, everyone had someone that made them happy, and in turn, would make said person happy... And then I’d think at myself, and I’d find nothing more than an endless void of nothingness.

It’s true, I used to date someone too, before Giorno joined us, but...I never, even once, missed one of our hang outs.  I suppose the team, my family, for me, was always more important than a relationship that may or may not be fleeting. And...I suppose that’s why my ex kept speaking like that to me, and seeing me in such a bad light. A difference in ideals and mind views that is so radical is never going to work out.

I already miss my Family, despite of how dysfunctional we all are.

How odd.

The next weekend, I went to the restaurant at the regular time, hoping that I would see at least one of the guys... But I was merely lying to myself, or my heart, that is. My brain already knew I was going to be alone.

One week, two weeks, three weeks...

The only time I’d meet them is when we’d have to go on missions or stuff like that.

I can’t believe how fast happiness can disappear...It’s almost like it never existed in the first place. How is that fair?

Why am I the only one left alone? Am I really that much of a bad person? Am I really that bad? Or ugly? Or annoying? Or what the hell is wrong with me? And more, what the hell is wrong with my heart? Why does it hurt so much? Why do I keep feeling the need to break down and cry every night with no exception? But I’m not sure what’s worse, the fact that I feel the need to cry my emotions out and scream my frustrations out at the sky... Or the fact that I can’t?

For the love of God, I can’t express my emotions, I can’t feel them, or maybe I feel too many at once and they threaten to explode, hell, I don’t even understand anything anymore.

This...Is really not fair at all...

About two months into this whole mess, I found myself going out by the sea every night, drinking some red wine that Abbacchio always drank and surprisingly, wasn’t too bad for my tastes, and I would just stare at the sky and let my emotions pour out, but not without cursing myself for looking like an alcoholic.

What was different that night, however, was a very familiar voice that seemed rather irked, continued by a very pitched and nagging female voice.

It sounded like Abbacchio...But I could always be mistaken. After all, drinking a whole bottle of red wine by myself wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

They seemed to be arguing...I don’t know...I wouldn’t want to intervene in their couple affairs. Or at least, that’s what I said, until I heard a loud slapping sound, followed by a deathly silence, which is when I realised that the woman he was with slapped him.

I may not be his girlfriend, but godamn it, nobody treats my family like that...

I marched to where the sound of the woman yelling at him came from, and despite possibly being a bit wobbly, I wasn’t even sure, I glared at her, catching her wrist before she could slap him once again.

“Who the hell are you?! Who do you think you are, getting between me and my boyfriend like that?! You look like some drunk slut from the highway, we have no money for your cheap ass!” she shrieked in my face, trashing violently, but I made no hostile move, except for glaring blankly at her. “He’s my family...And I’ll be dead before I allow anyone to treat my family with such disrespect.” I spoke in a low and threatening voice, gripping her wrist tighter. “It’s fine, Katrina, I deserved it.” Abbacchio tried to defend his girlfriend, but I was having none of it. “No, it’s not fine. And you didn’t deserve it. Nobody deserves to be treated like that by the person they love.” I reply simply, but that seemed to make hell break loose. “Oh my GOD! Leone, this is all your fault! Who the hell made you know such a fucking annoying chick like her who doesn’t mind her own damn business?! Screw it, I’m going home! You owe me a nice fucking date next time!” she screamed at the top of her lungs, before pushing me away and stomping in the opposite direction. “God damn it...” Abbacchio’s low voice was barely audible. “Are you okay, Abba...? Does it hurt where she slapped you? Can I heal it with my Stand?” I tried to reach out instinctively with my hands, but he slapped them away harshly, glaring at me, which made me widen my eyes in shock. “Abba...?” I was barely able to speak out. “What the fuck is your problem?! Why do you have to put your nose everywhere that doesn’t concern you? That was MY girlfriend! My date, my problem, my responsibility! ALL mine! You never stop trying to pry into others’ business, under the pretext that we’re family and you want the best for us, but have you ever thought that maybe we DON’T need OR want that?!” it was the first time he spoke so harshly and aggressive toward me, that I had to take a few steps back, away from him, then turn around to hide the tears streaming down my face. “Okay. I won’t bother you ever again. I’m sorry I’m such a bother for everyone around me. Goodbye.” I manage to speak in a shaky voice, as I started walking back towards the place where I stood previously, but I was stopped by a hand on my shoulder. “W-Wait...Are you crying...?” Leone spoke in an unsure voice, as if he was somehow taken back to reality. “That shouldn’t concern you, should it? It’s none of your business and you shouldn’t pry so much into it. That IS what you said, right, Abbacchio? Who cares about poor little, annoying Katrina, after all? Nobody. Let it remain that way. Who knows, maybe you’ll have the look to completely get rid of me very soon.” I slapped his hand away, before disappearing into the night, not even bothering to hear him out anymore.

From then on, I wasn’t even able to fake my happiness, my face remaining blank and emotionless for most of the time, and I’d only stay around the team for as long the mission needed me, and then I’d just leave back home, to my little safe heaven where I could be myself... But honestly, I couldn’t even be myself there, for I wouldn’t even be able to cry out my feelings or anything of the sort, and for the most time, I’d just watch a movie or listen to music, without feeling anything at all, just wasting my time blankly.

The other guys would voice their concerns quite often and loud, since I wasn’t my usual calming, gentle and happy go lucky self anymore, and it was clear that something was wrong...Especially when I refused to stay anywhere near the silver haired man.

It wasn’t until Bruno paired me up with said man that hell broke loose in a way, and the whole drive to the assigned place was filled with awkward silence, with Abbacchio trying to make conversation by asking if I like the song that’s on or I want to change it, but I didn’t bother giving him any answer, merely looking in front of me as I drove.

By the time we got to the docks to investigate the place, I walked away from him to do my job, but he just stood there, staring into the horizon, trying to say something, but something was keeping him - Most likely his own walls he created.

“We should talk.” he finally spoke up after excruciating minutes. “Really?” I asked sarcastically, now even bothering to look at him. “What were you doing at the beach that night?” he asked after a long pause. “Strictly confidential.” I replied blankly, looking at the little dock house. “What...?!” my response seemed to shock him since I was never so harsh and direct with him, always preferring to speak with a gentler and softer way. “It’s none of your business, is it? Your words, not mine.” I explained as I got inside and looked around the place. “I didn’t mean that. Not a word I said.” he tried to say, but I cut him off fast. “Activate your Stand already, stop wasting time.” I got out, looking at him with a bored expression. “Besides, words spoken always have a meaning and consequences. Action-Reaction, like in Physics, y’know?” I pointed out, as I took a seat on one of the logs around. “Look, I know I fucked up. I lashed out at you for no reason, and I’m sorry about that. I want to make it up to you. You were right to worry about me. Anyone from the team would have done the same. I was an asshole with you, I know that. I let my feelings go out of control... I'm just that kinda guy... a worthless guy who can't see anything through to the end. I always screw it up halfway through.” he spoke now more than I’ve ever heard him before, but the way he described himself made me cringe. “Don’t...Speak like that about yourself...” I muttered, shifting my gaze from him to Moody Blues. “Huh? Even now, after I was such an asshole with you, you try to protect me? Aren’t you an angel?” he chuckled lightly, which only made me sneer. “Shut up. I’m sorry for caring about you and for not wanting you to go through what I’ve been through. But I should’ve known better. You’re 21, you already have enough experience to know what you get yourself into. I won’t say a word next time, don’t worry. I promised not to bother anyone again.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my legs to get more comfortable in my seat. “That guy really was a bastard, wasn’t he...?” he muttered with a somehow softened expression. “Don’t try to turn this around. This conversation isn’t about me and nor should you be concerned about me or my feelings in any way.” I reminded him once again, but he was always a stubborn guy. “Lately, I’ve been feeling worse and worse...I guess I just needed a distraction. I never held any feelings for that woman, nor did she for me.” he tried to justify himself, but I merely shrugged. “I don’t see how that concerns me in any way.” I scoffed in annoyance. “You’re the only one I’d trust with my feelings.” he spoke after a brief silence, but I could only laugh sardonically. “Oh, really? Really, now? Are you sure you want to say that after that night? Because, as far as I’m concerned, you want me out of your life! Why would you even bother trying to justify your actions to someone like me anyway?!” I got up, glaring at him dead on. “Look, I give you every right to be mad at me! You can go ahead and punch me or kick me or slap me or whatever, it doesn’t matter, I won’t feel anything so if it will make you feel better, lash out your anger on me, I’d deserve it anyway.” he spoke a bit louder, yet he wore his raw feelings on his sleeve. “Why...Would I do that? You, of all people, should know that I would never, in a million years, do something like that, no matter how angry I am. Are you trying to mock me...?” I narrowed my eyes at him, but he merely shook his head. “I’m trying to get you to forgive me. I’m just very bad at this whole feel-thing...Or people-thing. You already know my past and I’m pretty sure you figured by now why I act the way I act. It’s not rocket science. So just...Tell me what to do to get you to forgive me and be the way we were before. I can’t stand the idea of you hating me.” his voice became much softer and more emotional by the end of it, something uncharacteristic of him. “I don’t hate you.” I looked down, crossing my arms. “You don’t...?” he stepped forward, his face shocked. “I can’t. No matter how much I want to hate you for what you did...I can’t.” I mutter, biting my lip, averting my eyes away from him, until...”Hey...Doesn’t that look oddly enough like your girlfriend...?” I ask breathlessly as Moody Blues took the shape of the girl at the beach. “Oh, great...My hookup is a villain Stand user. Great news.” he facepalmed in anger, before he ran full speed towards me, pushing me away. “Look out!” “Wh-What...?! Leone...?!” I gasped in shock, seeing him on the ground, a really ugly wound on his torso. “Guess we have to kill her.” he chuckled weakly, as I could feel a drop of sweat run down my back. “Damn it, you idiot! You shouldn’t have done that! Why the hell would you do something like that?!” I freaked out, looking at his bleeding wound. “I’ll tell you if I make it through this.” he wore the ghost of a smile that almost challenged me. “...You always know how to irk me the wrong way, don’t you?” I grit my teeth, before I got up, activating my Stand. “I’m not a violent person, chickadee, but now you’ve done it. You really got me mad.” I growled, creating blasting shots of water and throwing them at the woman in front of me. “Awww, what is it? Were you jealous, after all? Were you after my man all this time~?” she giggled, throwing her own blasts of whatever kind of energy that was. “I have no reason to be jealous. Especially not on someone like you.” I smirk as I made molecules of water depart from the actual blast, that would glue themselves on her skin and would get absorbed into her organism. “Oh, really? Can you really afford to say that, even now, knowing that he fucked me?” she laughed condescendingly, but she had no idea what a gruesome demise she’d have. “I almost pity you, you know? You seem like the kind of person who never knew what love is...Not that I’m sympathetic to you in any way. But sure, use that as an excuse to pretend you’re not just an empty shell of yourself.” I chuckled, before snapping my fingers together, which made her explode. “Au revoir.” I flipped my hair, looking at the place she was at just a few seconds ago, before rushing to the fallen ally. “That was pretty cool.” Abbacchio smirked breathlessly. “Guess my plan worked. I tried to look cool in front of you.” I let out an amused breath, before I took off his top, focusing the water to regenerate the cells on his wound so he would heal. “It worked damn well.” he said in a lower voice, watching me heal his wound. “Next time, don’t do that. I almost had a heart attack.” I bit my lip, not daring to meet his gaze. “It’s fine...I don’t feel anything. I haven’t in a long while.” he tried to make light of the situation, but I knew. I knew the truth, but I couldn’t say anything.

I didn’t even realise that I stopped healing him until tears started falling down my cheeks without any means to stop.

“H-Hey, why are you crying? I was joking, don’t take me so seriously-” he tried to take that back, but I knew better. “Don’t do that...Don’t. Just don’t. I already know...I know that so much that it hurts...” I manage to speak, hiding my face with my hands, not wanting him to see me crying. “Hey, come on...No need to cry over someone like me. Your pretty face should shine with a smile all the time, not cry.” he put his arms around me, pulling me to his chest. “Don’t act so brave in front of me, it’s annoying. Not when I already know how much you’re hurting...I understand you so well...I’m just too scared to say it out loud...But lately, I couldn’t even pretend that it’s not true. That’s why...I wanted to protect you from everything bad that would make you feel even worse...” I tried to explain myself, until I felt a kiss on the top of my head. “Look, I’ll be frank. I love you. I’m done hiding. I didn’t want to say anything ‘cause you deserve better, not a depressed guy who’s stuck in the past. You deserve someone bright and caring like Buccellati who’d treat you like a princess and all that. I’m not worthy of your feelings.” he stroked my hair gently, pouring all his feelings out. “Don’t...Say that...Ever again. Look at me...You think I’m any better? Do you have any idea how lonely I’ve felt all this time since you all got too busy for your family? Do you have any idea how bad I felt without you guys around? As if before that wasn’t bad enough...Now I’ve become an even greater mess. I either cry randomly, or feel nothing at all. I don’t even know what I am or what I feel anymore...And you say you’re no good for me? Did you hit your head too or what?” I spoke out everything I had to say, not even feeling embarrassed or scared anymore. “Don’t say that...You will regret it later on. I can’t even help myself, how could I possibly support you emotionally in any way?” he asks in a self-deprecating tone. “You’re impossible...” I sigh dramatically, as I raise my head and cupping his face, I capture his purple-painted lips in a tender kiss, with enough passion to show him that I mean it, but gentle enough, almost as if afraid that either of us would break from the pent up emotions that kept overwhelming us. “Are you sure...?” he mutters, his eyes wide in surprise. “If you want another one, you can just say so.” I smirk softly, before he put one arm around me, while his other hand was on the back of my head, and he pulled me into another kiss, just as full of love. “Do I really have to ask?” he let out an amused breath. “No. I’ll just let you steal them.” I could feel the ghost of a side-smile creeping on my face as I helped him get up from the ground. “Well, mission complete. Let’s go back home now. We gotta report to our dear Capo, after all.” I intertwined my fingers with his. “There’s gonna be a lot of explaining to do. How bothersome.” he said, yes the chuckle betrayed his words. “Hey, I’ll just look at the bright side. I won’t have to sit at the restaurant table by myself anymore.” I shrugged with an innocent smile on my face. “Low blow, tesoro. Low blow.” he shook his head, yet he was smiling, just as much.

[somedayonbroadway]

Have you ever done oe thought about a Bandstand AU? Because I'm now obsessed.

Okay, so I was obsessed with Bandstand for a good six months after they performed at the Tonys. Kid you not, it was the only thing I listened to. For six months straight. And it still hasn’t gotten old.

Quick rant:

Corey Cott deserves a Tony.

Laura Osnes deserves a Tony.

The show deserved to at least be nominated for best musical, if not win the whole thing.

Dear Evan Hansen is great.

But it is nothing compared to Bandstand.

(Also, DEH won best orchestrations against Great Comet… like… what? Did the judges even see that show? DEH had like… a violin, a piano and a couple guitars. It hardly had orchestrations. Great Comet is a ****ing masterpiece of complex, insane music.)

End rant.

Anyways.

Bandstand AU

Characters

Jack Kelly — Donny Novitski (Piano)

Katherine Plumber — Julia Trojan (Singer)

David Jacobs — Wayne Wright (trombone)

Spot Conlon — Davy Zlatic (bass)

Racetrack Higgins — Jimmy Campbell (saxophone)

Crutchie Morris — Johny Simpson (drums)

Albert DaSilva — Nick Radel (trumpet)

Joseph Pulitzer — June Adams

Medda Larkin — Oliver

Bryan Denton — Jo

Specs — Michael “Rubber” Trojan

Okay, so…

Newly back home, Jack Kelly is having difficulty adjusting to life after the war. After losing his best friend from friendly fire, he’s guilt ridden. The minute Jack gets home, he’s bombarded with propaganda that everything would go back to the way it was before. He doesn’t believe that as he is now jobless, is struggling for money, is struggling hard with insomnia and PTSD.

As a composer, vocalist, accordion player and pianist, Jack begins to go to old clubs he used to perform at, only to find he’d been easily replaced. Finding an old friend, Medda, for whom he’d worked with before, he manages to secure gigs at weddings, getting slim money, just enough to eat and pay rent.

After a few weeks, he finds himself slowly losing it. He hears stories of soldiers’ funerals. Those guys came back fine a while ago.

They needed a way to make it stop.

Jack is on the verge of a breakdown. He can’t go a night without a drink. He can’t stop thinking about the war. About Specs.

He can’t get it out of his head.

He’s a genius and he knows it. He’s been musically inclined his whole life. He started playing when he was seven and he started composing when he was nine. And here he is, fifteen years later, still playing weddings. No one’s giving him a job. No one seems to care that he’s struggling or needs to play because if he can’t play, there’s nothing left for him.

But he hears about a contest on the radio. A contest for a swing band to compete in a contest as a tribute to the troops just back from the war.

In a moment of clarity, Jack decides that he’s going to put together a band made up of his fellow vets to shoot for fame and fortune, to show the vets that made it home that there’s hope for them.

So he takes a name that he remembers his best friend mentioned at one time, and he goes out to find a man about to play a gig at a club named Antonio Higgins who Specs had used to call Racer. Racer is a sax player, now studying to be a lawyer. While Race does try to send him away, he realizes that he might need this as much as Jack did and once he finds out that Specs is dead, he can’t say no. He’s doing this for Specs.

Race leads him to find more musicians who served. Spot, David, Crutchie and Albert.

Race doesn’t trust anyone.

Spot is an alcoholic, cracking jokes to get through the day as best he can.

David is OCD. He has clear schedules and plans out every minute of his day.

Albert is a control freak. He’s constantly irritated and just wants everything to be done the right way and for things to work out.

Crutchie lost a leg in the war as well as receiving brain damage in an accident that sent his vehicle flipping three times while he was in the war

Not all of them get along at first. But, for the sack of all of the vets that are losing hope in a post war world where there’s no place for them, they keep it together.

They get through their first gig together. All is well for about two minutes as Race tells Jack he’s glad he decided to play with him and Spot jokes around with Crutchie after Crutchie tells the guys about his meds and how they slow him down, asking him how much slower he can get without being put in reverse. Crutchie is very slow and goofy most of the time, unable to truly remember the events that occurred overseas, but he is a monster on drums. He doesn’t mind the jokes, in fact, he takes a liking to Spot.

It’s after this that Jack tells Albert he needs to come down off the ceiling while playing his solo, claiming that it’s selfish and out of line. Albert argues with him, sparking a bit of tension between the rest of the group. Albert then announced he has a chance to play with Dwight Anson Orchestra. Davey explains that Jack needs to work around his schedule. Albert says that they need to get paid.

Jack shoots back that the gigs they get are where and when they are going to play and he promises to try and give more of an advance in the future.

Once the others leave, Spot with Crutchie, trying to joke with him as he’s taken a liking to the youngest kid of the group, Race approaches Jack and tries to gently explain to him that he needs to learn how to talk to people if he’s gonna be a band leader. This sparks a small argument, almost leading to Race giving up and leaving, only resulting in Jack admitting that he has to do this for Specs.

He explains that Specs’s death was friendly fire and that he’d promised Specs should anything happen to him, he’d check in on his wife. Race advises Jack not to tell Specs’s wife how he died and tells him not to go to trial unless he was prepared to lose. Then he leaves, promising to see Jack for their next gig on Sunday.

So Jack goes to talk to Specs’s wife.

Katherine Plumber.

He knocks on the door before chickening out and turning to leave.

But he’s not quite fast enough.

Katherine laughs at him, accusing him of being too old for ding dong ditch. Jack laughs and shyly walks back, introducing himself as Spencer’s friend. Katherine’s smile fades and she asks him more questions, resulting in Jack telling her he has some pictures that might be of interest to her. Katherine invites him over for dinner.

Explaining to her father the situation, Joseph Pulitzer (yes, he’s very nice in this one. Deal with it.) he agrees to the dinner, telling Katherine that they won’t be great hosts. He tells Katherine to be careful and not to pry, that if Jack wants to tell her more information about Specs, he would.

So Katherine tries to respect the boundaries.

Katherine explains to her father that she feels selfish because sometimes she wishes she could be the same person she was before and that she doesn’t want to be defined as a Gold Star Wife. She used to have a life and she used to be somebody.

She pulls herself together when the knock on the door comes.

Joe welcomes Jack inside and Jack thanks him for his kindness while Katherine jokes that he works hard at being nice and explains that her mother is away visiting her grandparents.

While getting to know each other a little, Jack learns that Katherine can sing but she only sings a church and jokes that if he wanted to hear her sing, he’d have to go to a service. Katherine learns that Jack lost his parents when he was very young and has fended for himself ever since.

Eventually, they get around to looking at the pictures Jack brought. He tries to make the memories light.

But Katherine can’t help but ask if Jack was there when he’d died.

Jack tells her yes.

And Katherine can’t take it. So she excuses herself before dinner has even begun, leaving Jack and Joe to have dinner alone.

That Sunday, Jack finds himself at church, watching Katherine sing beautifully in front of an entire gathering of people.

He catches her afterwards, asking why she didn’t tell him that she got to perform the big finale. He then asks her if she’d like to see him and his band play that night, eventually convincing her that it might be fun.

Joe encourages her to go, telling her that she hasn’t been out since her husband had died. So she goes.

After watching their set, Katherine is surprised to be invited up onstage to sing a standard. She’s incredibly nervous, forgetting the bridge of the song but finishing strong with some encouragement from Jack. She meets the boys. She takes a liking to all of them, telling Davey that his family should be proud, joking along with Spot, immediately wanting to protect Crutchie, much like Spot does.

Jack tells them that he wants to win for the guys who got nothing.

Katherine asks him if he means Specs. And he tries to take it back but she runs off, upset. And Racer tells the guys that she has every right to be a part of this band as she lost her husband in the war. The guys tell Jack that he should try to get Katherine to sing with them.

So he goes to her work the next day. She tries to send him away, claiming she doesn’t need to be saved. Jack counters. “What if I do?” And then he sings her First Steps First before inviting her to rehearsal that night walking away. Katherine tells him on his way out that she’ll be there, on the condition that Jack tells her more about Specs.

At rehearsal, things are a little tense. Katherine quickly finds that Race tries his best to stay out of confrontation, David is constantly questioning Jack’s harmonies and chord progressions, Spot is always drunk, Crutchie is often confused, and Albert is hard to rely on. Katherine loosens up the tension as much as she can, learning the music and getting to know all the boys. She loves talking to Crutchie. She constantly takes Spot’s drinks from his hands and offers him coffee and water. She tries to get Race to open up and Davey to loosen up, while also somehow getting on Albert’s good side.

She finds that once they’re all playing together, things seem a little easier, like they all get along and work well together.

They play at a club in town called Medda’s, playing a song Jack hopes to be a winning song called “You Deserve It”. It’s snappy and catchy and all the boys really enjoy it. After this, Medda asks the band to play the next night and Jack and Kath celebrate with drinks.

Jack then asks Katherine if she’d be willing to take on a stage name, Kathy Pulitzer, saying it had a better ring to it than Katherine Plumber. Katherine doesn’t like this and leaves, unable to handle the idea of losing another part of Specs.

Jack follows her, apologizing after Katherine breaks, crying about how she’ll never see her husband’s body or get to say goodbye.

Jack promises to give her answers if she comes back to the band. So they go tell the guys they have another gig.

The next night, after escorting a very drunk Spot home, Jack expresses his worries that Spot will be wasted on the night of the competition to which Albert replies he has bigger problems and reveals he’d been rehearsing with Dwight Anson and thinks they might have a better song. He leaves, telling Jack he’d be playing with the band that had the better song.

Jack walks Katherine home, angry and scared and exhausted knowing he can’t sleep. He tells Katherine that if it were Specs, he’d be saying how they’d be winning this thing, on their way to New York in some Pullman cars, living the dream.

Katherine shows Jack a poem she’d written that makes Jack feel better. After promising — mostly — not to tease, Jack asks Katherine if he can look through more of her poems. Reluctantly, Katherine agrees.

The next day, Jack returns Katherine’s book with a new song, word for word lyrics to one of Katherine’s poems. He explains that this is the song they need to win. Katherine is hesitant but agrees to sing it.

Going to the contest, the band wins easily, hitting the judges hard with a song with a true story and one that many were too scared to tell.

Ecstatic, the band has a moment of victory before reality sets in.

They’re told that no one is paying for them to get to New York. They’re responsible for travel and getting there doesn’t guarantee them a spot on the broadcast. Jack and Race try to argue, telling them that they have to help them get there because everyone just heard them win, to which one of the producers replies that hardly anyone was listening.

And if no one saw it, it never happened.

(That moment gets me every ****ing time. The lights go out and a spotlight hits every single one of the boys. It hurts so bad.)

Their arguments get nowhere. And they’re left with this crippling news.

Jack falls to the ground in mental and emotional agony. The guys are arguing and getting worked up but Katherine is holding onto Jack, trying to make sure he’s alright.

Jack finally stands and tells them that they’re going to that contest. They have to make it there anyway they can and they’ll take every gig they can get because they have a right to respect.

And all the guys agree.

They’re done fighting for their country. It’s time to fight for themselves.

They take every gig offered to them, writing new songs and winning the hearts of their hometown (Cleveland). They even write a song about their hometown. Everyone adores it.

Jack and Katherine are closer than ever, Jack telling Katherine all the stories about Specs he can remember. He tells her one of his favorite memories of Specs which was when they were playing with some other cats in the army. Specs was playing the drums so fast, telling everyone to go faster and faster until finally he looked at Jack and just told him to sing. And Jack did. It was less of a song than a battle call.

When they write their new song, they begin to perform it everywhere they can as their town loves the song that’s all about them. While they do this, a certain club owner overheard the band talking about making enough money to get to New York. And Miss Medda hatches a scheme.

She asks the band to play more often for more pay and gets the rest of the town in on the game. Jack doesn’t realize what she’s doing.

Davey admits to Albert that his wife kicked him out. Albert offers up his home, igniting the first selfless act any of the others had ever seen from him.

Katherine tried to get Spot to give up the bottle. He refuses.

Spot starts massaging Crutchie’s back every now and then to help him relax and make him feel better after his injury.

In the midst of all of this, Katherine explains to Jack that she has to quit her job in order to make sure she could be at the contest. She says she’d be taking all the overtime and lipsticks as she could before then. She tells Jack how she lied about her mother being away to visit family and how she walked out on her and her father years ago.

And she says she wants to know what happens to Specs.

Unable to keep dodging the question, Jack breaks. He loses it, telling her that she couldn't understand. He’s crying as he recounts every detail in his brain, telling her how it happened, how it was his fault that his best friend was dead.

And Katherine runs away from him, horrified at what she’d just heard.

She doesn’t show up to the gig the next night.

Jack confides in Race who tells him that he’s letting this girl slip away from him. Jack tries to joke about Race not chasing after any pretty girls even though he has plenty of girls lining up to get a kiss from him after shows. Race says that he thought a smart guy like Jack would’ve had him figured out already.

Race lost his partner in the war.

Suddenly, things make a lot more sense.

Katherine stays home with her father, sobbing, explaining that it was Jack’s fault her husband was dead. But Pulitzer tells her that there aren’t reasons for what happens. Everything just happens. He tells her the only thing that matters is what she does next.

Katherine writes a poem and shows it to Jack the next day, apologizing even though Jack says she has nothing to apologize for. She says the same thing goes to him. She explains that she doesn’t know and cannot understand what happened in the frontlines. And this poem was for Jack and the boys.

Jack sets it to music knowing this song is too real and genuine to be played for an audience. So they change the lyrics.

This is the song Katherine would have sung if Specs had come home.

After performing this song for the first at Medda’s, Jack stands up to tell the audience that they won’t make it to New York, getting emotional and telling them that he was no hero and that the wrong guy made it home from the war. Medda stops him and explains to him he doesn’t need NBC when he has Cleveland. She hands him seven tickets to the Cleveland Limited. Pullman Cars. First class.

Jack literally breaks into tears and hugs Medda as tightly as he possibly can.

The band’s going to New York.

Jack gears up the guys for a successful contest while being awestruck and exploring New York City. Jack walks Katherine back to her room after a night exploring. They stop themselves from going into her room together after they both admit there’s more than just friendship between them.

They part ways that night, promising to see each other in the morning.

The next day, they go through preliminaries and are told they’ll be on the broadcast. Jack and Katherine sign the contract and the whole band celebrates until the next night when no one can seem to find Racer.

When Race arrives, two minutes before they’re on, he explains that Jack and Katherine signed away the rights to their own song and would be no more than walk ons if they won.

This just about breaks Jack.

Spot suggests leaving. The rest of the guys agree.

But Jack asks Katherine if she remembers all the original lyrics to Welcome Home, the poem she’d written for her boys.

She says yes.

And they know what they have to do for the soldiers out there to know they’re not alone.

They get on stage and they blow it up.

Crutchie starts the drums. Jack tells him to go faster. Faster. Faster.

Then he looks at Katherine. And he tells her to sing.

Charlie made it home.

Most of him at least .

Had three operations,

But the pain has not decreased .

Al learned to survive.

Means you never trust .

Once you see the worst in man,

Then how do you adjust?

Sean, he cracks a joke.

Claims to be alright .

Drinks a fifth of vodka

In his kitchen every night

And I stand here trying

Like mother Mary

With my private burden

Of grief to carry  

Welcome home my boys

Welcome home my sons

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love  

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home  

David’s never free.

Schedules out his day.

Filling every minute

Just to keep the ghosts away .

He could never get

Back the life he had .

Faced with raising kids

Who did not recognize their dad .

Tony made it back to town

Four months ago

Lives to tell the things

No one could bear to know

Keeps his guard up now

A lot goes undiscussed

Focuses on fighting

What he finds unjust  

Welcome home my boys

Welcome home my sons

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love  

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home  

Jack, he does his best,

Trying to pretend

What he doesn't talk about

Won't matter in the end

Jack, he made it home

But thinks it wasn't fair

How he made it out

But left his buddy there

Jack, he doesn't sleep

Because the nightmares come

Jack looks for an answer,

Jack, he looks for absolution,

And I'd give up anything

If I could give him some

And I stand here helpless

My arms extended

Knowing full well, darling,

Your war's not ended

Welcome home

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home my boys

Welcome home my sons

Welcome home my husband

Welcome home my love

Welcome home

Welcome home

Welcome home

It’s the most honest performance these men have ever given.

Months later, Jack and the band walk out of a movie theatre, joking about how good Dwight Anson Orchestra looked while Sinatra sang their song.

And some girls run up to them, asking for an autograph.

Jack gives them one, telling them to bring their father who served backstage at their next concert.

And then they leave.

They have a gig to get to.

What do you guys think? Wanna see any specific scenes?

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

[a-libra-writes]

Yearning - Davos x Baratheon!Reader

Requested by an anon, hope you like what I did with it! I really like this prompt, it inspired that Baratheon Sister imagine. I might write a part two or so to this fic bc i enjoyed writing this Reader ^^

Summary: Davos and Baratheon!Reader have been dancing around their feelings for years. The oncoming war finally gets them to admit it -- lots of fluff & some angst but mostly FLUFF

If you’d like your name to appear - instead of Y/N - this fantastic extension can help you do that!

He wasn’t normally a man to dwell on hindsight, but Davos should have stopped her the moment she set foot on Dragonstone. He should have known she’d be here eventually, he should have had men he trusted waiting at the shore. He didn’t think she’d barge her way in so quickly.

Well, that was his own foolishness. It had been some years since Davos had last seen his king’s younger sister, but he should have known her fiery personality wasn’t steadied in the slightest. She had Robert’s good humor, Renly’s natural magnetism, and all of Stannis’ stubbornness. The old knight had only seen them truly butt heads once, and that wasn’t over the matter of the realm.

Davos ran up the narrow, dark staircase as quick as he dared. This whole castle was a gloomy deathtrap. Just as he reached the stop step, he heard a door slamming and echoing off the walls. Even the candles seemed to flicker from the noise.

Her heels hit the floors so hard, it was a wonder they didn’t snap. Davos thought she’d run straight into him, but Y/N Baratheon stopped short. 

She was breathing hard, some of her hair had fallen out of her tidy Southern braids, and her lips were pursed together so tight he thought she might bruise them.

Davos spoke first to give her a moment to breathe. “Lady Y/N. You’re here.”

Y/N breathed in deeply and rubbed her head as if it pained her. He wouldn’t be surprised if a headache sprang on her now, and he couldn’t help but think of the way Stannis would grind his teeth. Y/N finally said, “Yes. I’m here. I know I should have come sooner.” 

“It was good ya stayed with Robert, to say goodbye. King Stannis … should have been there too.”

“Yes. He should have. He shouldn’t have run when Jon Arryn died, he should have stayed to help Lord Stark - gods, never mind what we all should have done. It’s time to take care of what’s happening now.” She tried to tuck some of her hair aside, just noticing how it was coming undone. 

Davos didn’t miss how quickly Y/N’s anger was fizzling out. All the energy to flee to Dragonstone, then argue with Stannis and come storming out was too much. Unlike the oldest Baratheon, Y/N didn’t thrive off strife. 

“I didn’t know Renly would run, Davos,” She said. “I swear I didn’t.” 

Davos couldn’t stop himself from stepping closer and touching her arm. He’d known her as long as Stannis, after all. She was there during the siege. 

“It isn’t your fault, my lady, you don’t control what a grown man does. Did Stannis say something?”

“Well … No, he’s as upset as I am, but I was there! Renly didn’t tell me anything! It was Lord Stark who told me later, and as soon as I leave here, he’s arrested -! If I stayed, I could have helped him …” 

“No, you should not have stayed,” Davos squeezed both her arms now, addressing her firmly. “It was a good thing to leave that den of snakes, Y/N. Ya couldn’t have done anything for Lord Stark.”

Under any ordinary circumstances, Davos wouldn’t think of touching the sister of his king in such a way, even if they always had been friendly. Lady Selyse would positively riot about it, he knew, and the only thing keeping him in place now was how much he hated the distress on Y/N’s sweet face. Davos wasn’t sure if any of her brothers were aware of how much she worried over them, placated them, tried to mediate between them. While she typically had a good relationship with Stannis, they’d been strained since Jon Arryn.

Davos wasn’t surprised their first meeting in months hadn’t gone well. There was still trouble on her face, but before he could say anything else, he felt her arms wrap around him.

“My lady - you shouldn’t -”

Y/N rested her head on his shoulder. “I don’t trust her.”

Davos didn’t have to ask whom Y/N was speaking of. “I knew you wouldn’t.”

“What do you think?”

It was absurd to think anyone would be hearing in these stony and cramped halls, but with the shadows and facades of dragons came an uneasiness that Davos disliked. He was a superstitious man, what sailor wasn’t, and this castle sent every hair on edge.

“Careful where you speak, my lady.”

Y/N scoffed as she pulled away from him. Davos welcomed the coolness that followed, but Y/N hadn’t let go of him completely. It didn’t seem like the time to point out impropriety, so he stuck to warning her.

“I mean it. It isn’t just her. The Queen’s men, too. And your brother…”

Y/N shook her head, but Davos wasn’t sure if she truly understood the extent of the Red Woman’s influence.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I just … I should lie down. The travelling took much out of me.” 

"Aye, that ya should, my lady. A good rest and a proper meal. You'll be able to talk to your brother easier after that. He needs you on his side, even if he doesn't realize it."

It was so relieving to see a smile return to her face, small as it was. "I missed you, Davos." 

If those sweet words and that smile weren't enough to do him in, Y/N gave him another tight hug. Davos had trouble returning it. It didn't seem right to touch her or have her so close.

"Lady Y/N - you're, ah, a princess now. I can't - it isn't proper to, ah, go around embracin' old former smugglers -"

"Oh, stop." Y/N said playfully, but she finally stepped away. Davos hoped to all the gods that the hall was dark enough for her not to see the blush he was positive he had. "A princess?"

"But if I'm not mistaken, ya were still a princess when Robert was alive."

"Little Shireen and Myrcella are princesses, but if it makes the lords think they're flattering and keeps Queen Selyse from puckering her lips at me, then fine.” 

Davos chuckled. He really had missed Y/N’s wit. It was rare to find such a vivacious woman in court, especially at the Red Keep. Her freedom as an unmarried sister of the King meant she did as she pleased, especially since Robert was not keen on marrying her, in spite of her age. He was roped into cooperation by the Lannisters, and he wanted to avoid that for Y/N. 

It was one of Robert’s few wise moves, Davos knew, and Y/N’s darling face and easy smiles meant he often forgot she was a proper lady. Pleased as he was to see her unmarried, he knew she wouldn’t stay that way with this coming war. Stannis would need to make alliances.

“No dark faces, Ser Davos,” Y/N said, always using his first name, ever since she first met him. “It’s gloomy enough around here. Will you escort me to my room? I can’t navigate this castle for anything.” 

“I will do my best, Lady Y/N. It’s still a foreign place to me.” Davos accepted the arm she so easily slipped into his. It was easy to set aside his feelings when they were entire kingdoms apart, but for the first time in years, they’d be under the same roof. 

Y/N stared at the dark wine in her goblet. Robert never tired of the stuff. She was amazed how much alcohol could fit in one man without him being sick, although sometimes the sick did come. Stannis discouraged Y/N away from Robert’s parties, but she wasn’t an impressionable little girl. She developed a distaste for drink after she’d seen the way it affected Robert’s body and temper.

Now I understand I just didn’t have a reason to drink. Y/N sourly tossed back the wine. She grimaced at how bitter it was, but the taste was quick to dull. She was sipping it at first, then drinking, and now she could gulp. Wouldn’t her dear brothers be proud?

Her self pity was rudely interrupted by a young page. “Pardon me, Princess Y/N. Ser Davos Seaworth would like to speak with you.”

Y/N glanced toward the boy. He was barely old enough to tie his tunic, but it was better than the ambitious minor ladies who wanted to be her handmaidens. Y/N refused to take on any here, especially if they were speaking that Azor Ahai nonsense. This boy was clumsy, but honest. 

“Let him in, dear. You can leave me for the rest of the evening.”

Davos entered her large war tent - a novelty for Y/N - dressed simpler than the page. They watched the boy fumble with closing the tent flap before leaving.

“Wouldn’t ya prefer a handmaiden?” Davos asked.

“No, thank you.” Y/N wondered when her cup got so empty. She was certain she was more than tipsy, so she pushed it aside. Even if she loved his visits, she’d rather not have Davos see her like this. He sat down next to her at the table and took her hand, and gods damn it all, she loved how warm it was.

It used to pain her how clueless she thought he was, but now Y/N was sure he was purposefully rebuffing her. The stark difference in status, the age gap, the matter of Stannis - whatever the excuse was, it just made Y/N’s mood even more gloomy.

“My lady, yer bein’ hard on yerself again. Ya had to know Renly wouldn’t listen. If he was reasonable, ya wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t have raised this army.”

Yes, a wonderful change in subject, back to her brother’s treason. Y/N sighed and leaned on Davos, unable to find the strength to keep herself sitting upright. She rested her head on his shoulder.

He was very solid for a man of his age. This was distracting.

“I practically raised him, you know, Stannis and I. He was a babe when our parents died.”

“Aye. And it was yer kindness keepin’ him alive in the siege.”

“Damned right.” Y/N was eyeing the empty goblet and the flagon that still had wine in it. “He was always a pompous little shite in the Red Keep, but this? This isn’t a game, there are Starks in the North, Lannisters in the West and East, and now he’s …” 

She sighed heavily, and after a moment of hesitation, Davos wrapped an arm around her. Y/N could have swooned if she wasn’t about to sway. 

“Princess, he’s made his decision. I know it hurts ya, but he’s not the boy ya knew. Ya said as much when ya were in the Red Keep. He’s his own person now.”

“My name is Y/N.”

“... Aye. There was no question of that.”

Y/N always liked the way he said her name. Maybe that was how her silly crush started, when she was younger. He sounded so different than anyone she’d ever talked to before. She didn’t understand why the other lords sneered about it under their breaths. ‘Talking low’, they said. Y/N could listen to it all day.

Or all night. She thought. That felt impossible now. Her dark mood wasn’t allowing any of her usual fantasties. 

“Ya had enough of this, m’lady.” Davos untangled himself from Y/N and moved the flagon further down the table. He pointedly ignored her grumbling protests.  “It won’t make anything better or change the situation.”

Y/N easily wiggled herself under his arm, pointedly putting it back where it was around her, and rested back against his shoulder. The tent was quiet now. Even if the sound of men walking and talking outside seemed too distant. 

“I like the way you say my name,” Y/N said suddenly. “I know there’s the titles and nonsense. But like this, I don’t want ‘princess’ or ‘my lady’.” 

She felt Davos’ shoulder shift under her, and he carefully touched her wrist. It was the sort of carefulness that Y/N didn’t want - less like she was fragile, more like she was dangerous. Off-limits.

“Y/N, it’s time for ya to lie down. Get some rest.”

She hated the sudden cold that struck her when he moved away and stood up. He did take her hand again, but it was only to help keep her steady. Y/N swayed and held on tight to his hand, easily fitting it into her own. Then he took her other hand, and she felt all the fingers press against her own. It wasn’t fair. 

Y/N didn’t catch what he was saying now, too lost in her own irritable, swirling thoughts. She pressed her head against his chest, where his heart beat through his dark wool tunic. He stopped in the middle of his sentence. 

“Davos,” She said. She felt those hands squeeze her own, and she prayed they wouldn’t let go. The only reason he should let go is to hold her. She hated the idea of him leaving this tent without holding her.

“Y/N, yer upset, and ya had too much wine. Yer gonna be miserable if ya don’t sleep.”

“I’m already miserable, damn it,” Y/N retorted, her misery and self-pity finally coming to a head. She pulled away from Davos’ hands and firmly wrapped her arms around him. “My brothers are going to kill each other and I just want you to hold me.”

She heard the sigh run through Davos’ chest, straight past his quick beating heart, and finally those warm arms wrapped around her. Y/N could die happy right here. She eagerly nuzzled into his embrace, marvelling at how solid and comfortable he felt.

The leather of his gloved hand was brushing across her bare arm, and Y/N felt more drunk than ever. “Stay,” She asked, feeling selfish and stupid, more like a spoiled girl than a grown woman. “Just for a while.”

But Davos had always spoiled her and let her be selfish, and he did the same now. She felt the hesitance as he ran his fingers through her long, soft hair that had long been yanked from their fancy style. 

“Y/N,” He said, his voice so close to her ear that she shivered. “Ya know we shouldn’t. We can’t.”

Y/N finally looked up at him. She shouldn’t have. His blue eyes were always her favorite, always full of humor and affection, just for her. There was all that, but much more. A distinct feeling of desire that Y/N wanted so badly it hurt.

“I’ve always been fond of you, Davos, and that isn’t the drink talking. You know I have.” Y/N spoke softly, but she couldn’t keep her feelings from spilling out as they pleased. “And - you feel the same, don’t you?”

Davos glanced aside, but he didn’t pull away, so that was something. “You and Stannis, yer both gonna be the death of me, Y/N. How am I supposed to stay no to my king and my princess, mm?”

“I’m first,” Y/N said, and the stubbornness made him laugh. Their foreheads pressed together for just a moment, then finally, their lips met.

Y/N loved it, her head spinning with feelings instead of drink. This may have sobered her up. His beard tickled her a little, and she couldn’t help but smile at that. When Davos broke their kiss, he pressed another one on her brow.

“There’s that smile. I missed it. Ya haven’t been doin’ much smiling since this started.”

It was nice to feel like a giddy girl, even with an army of knights and warhorses surrounding them outside the tent. She touched Davos’ face and brought him closer, liking how red his cheeks were in the warmth of the candlelight. Liking that it was her that caused such a boyish blush.

Before she could pull him into another eager kiss, Davos held her wrists. “Y/N, sweet, not anymore. I have to leave soon. I wanted to check on ya before I did.”

“Leave? Where are you going so late?”

Davos hesitated. “Stannis gave me a task. Can’t say more than that. Don’t wanna get ya in the middle of it.”

Y/N had plenty of questions about that, but this was the middle of a war. She’d find out eventually, so she kissed him before he pulled away. “This little task wouldn’t have to do with your former occupation, would it?”

“Yer too clever for yer own good. I’ll come back when it’s finished. Might take most of the night. We’ll talk more about this when we’re back, Y/N. I promise.”

She embraced him tightly then, feeling more secure than she had in months. “I’ll hold you to that promise, ser knight.”

She hated how bright and clear the sky was today. The setting sun was disappearing into the sea and the gentle waves reflected it beautifully. It almost disgusted Y/N that such a breathtaking sunset was preceding a horrible battle.

Her foot tapped the grass impatiently as she waited, but he finally arrived. While most of the men boarding the boats were stubbornly wearing their steel mail, Davos kept to his simple attire. She would bet he was a powerful swimmer, even now. Y/N left her shoes in the grass as she easily scampered to his arms.

He was still nervous about giving her affection anywhere that wasn’t a closed room, but the situation meant he was willing to indulge her. The indulgence almost made Y/N afraid. She recalled back when she confessed to him, how he gave into her so easily, then disappeared in the night. Nothing but chaos followed. Did he expect to die then, and was he expecting to die now?

“That’s not the sort of look I want to leave ya with,” Davos said, trying to humor her. He kissed the crown of her head, like he did when she was very young, then her cheeks, and now her lips. He was generous with his affection and Y/N eagerly soaked it up. The war wasn’t nearly over, and it was pulling at her. 

“I apologize, I gave all my proper looks to Stannis when I told him goodbye. You know how he is when I’m upset, and I know he’ll be successful.”

“You’ve said as much.” Davos kept his arms around her, and Y/N took up her favorite spot resting against him. “Your confidence has given the men a great deal of morale, princess. Especially the ones who don’t … believe everything they’ve been told to believe.”

“I’m so glad he isn’t bringing that witch.”

Her bluntness never failed to make Davos chuckle. He was glad she gave her brother an easy goodbye. The gods knew the two of them had their share of disagreements this past month. Anytime they were in the room together, he was distinctly reminded of two stags fighting in the woods.

“It means he still listens to you. He’ll need our honesty, Y/N.” 

Like always, Y/N was soft in his arms, and he could smell the flowers she used to wash her hair with. She didn’t perfume herself, he noticed, and the floral scent came from plants and herbs she gathered herself. She had thrown herself into this war effort, and had begun to trade her silks for simpler linens, and her jewels for food. 

Standing here in the sunset, with her hair in an easy braid and a flowing white linen dress framing her body, she looked more beautiful than he could have imagined. A princess in spirit and soul. He didn’t deserve her. 

“Now you’re the one leaving me with a look,” Y/N said, holding his face and making him look at her. “The battle will be won, Davos. My brother is a fine commander, and you’re a damned fine sailor. After tonight, the Red Keep will be under our control again, and it will all be over.” 

She looked tired as she said this, but Y/N had been saying it dozens of times to lords and soldiers. For her, it wasn’t a matter if they’d succeed. It was just which battle, and she’d been sitting in on every briefing for this one.

“Aye. If the princess says it, then so it will be,” Davos felt her hair through his fingers, the ones he didn’t need to hide under a glove, wanting to remember how soft she was. That same hand trailed down her back and touched her hips, which he had to admit he loved. Leave it to an old sailor to be thinking about love and desire instead of the battle just hours away.

The sun was reflecting on her eyes, too, highlighting all the love and sweetness she had just for him. She rarely spared lords second glances, and the courting had begun in earnest. The men Stannis had gathered could practically smell the throne in his hands, and Y/N was a direct connection to that.

“Kiss me,” Y/N said suddenly, impatiently, and he eagerly obliged her. She sighed against his lips and he held her close, feeling her curves through her dress and his own tunic. 

Y/N was the one to pull away first, but she stayed teasingly close. “Once this is over, I want to marry on the beach.” 

Davos didn’t expect that. He was usually confident in his words, but Y/N had a way of challenging his wit. “Is that so? I don’t know any lords that would be comfortable marrying around sand and salt.”

“No, but I know a knight who would.” Y/N grinned. It was fun to tease Davos like this, but Y/N was a woman of her word. If she told someone she would tear down the wall of Storm’s End one brick at a time, it would be done.

That was a blessing and a curse to his poor soul. “That’s somethin’ we’ll discuss later, love.”

“I’m discussing it now.” She leaned against him, and Davos fought to keep his hands from drifting too low. “We’ve shared our feelings, so I should give you a typical reason to return home to your lady, right? All the songs say a man who has a promise in his heart comes back safe.”

“Don’t those men usually die some poetic death? I don’t plan on that…”

“I agree, death is absolutely forbidden. You’ll be brought before your princess and punished for such a crime.”

“I think the King will have strong words for me, first.”

Y/N huffed. “Stannis can wait his turn.”

Her pouting turned to a delighted squeal as Davos lifted her up, feeling unusually youthful when he should have been facing the next few hours with a sullen determination. He carried her to the fallen tree she had made herself comfortable on before he arrived. 

Y/N eagerly pulled him back to her, all but crawling into his lap. “When’s the last time you were at King’s Landing, ser knight?”

“It’s been some years. Saw enough of it as a boy.” He was comfortable running his ruined hand up her leg, knowing it wouldn’t upset her. 

“You should show me where you grew up.”

“I’ll walk ya to Flea Bottom an’ point out a shack. It’ll be close enough.”

Her little laugh turned to a sigh as his hand went further up her dress. With little shame, Y/N straddled his lap. She peppered him with kisses as she said, “I want you back to me as soon as possible, Davos. I don’t care what state you’re in.” 

“Aye, love, I hear ya.” He kissed her neck, pulling a heavy sigh from Y/N as his rough lips and beard brushed against her skin. “I will.”

“Good.” She tossed some of her hair so he could get at her collarbone, and she was more than delighted when he did. The gods gave and took, Maester Cressen told her when she was a girl. It was not the place of humans to question that.

Y/N often questioned anyway, wondering why the gods delighted in taking what they pleased from her. Her parents, her brothers. Myrcella may have been far away, but Tommen would not be spared in the siege. At least, finally, they seemed content to give her this happiness, this love. She’d hold him tight while she had him.