#5 minutes of standing in line later and my spine feels like it has been twisted into a spring

[milkweedman]

Am in so much pain right now its unreal

[primofate]

Genshin x fem!reader [Volleyball Team AU - Inspired by Haikyuu!] Manager reader gets hit on/harassed

Note: IM BACK FROM VACATION I recommend you read “How it’s like to be their manager” first before this one. Gives it a lot more perspective :)

Scenario: During an away game at another school, you catch the eye of a senior there. Little did he know that you’re the Genshin team’s manager and how much trouble he just caused for himself. 

Warnings: SEXUAL HARRASSMENT but still SFW, swearing, profanities, fighting. platonic relationships.

Characters: Zhongli, Diluc, Kaeya, Albedo, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Xiao, Tohma, reader as the team manager

Other works in the Volleyball Team AU Series: Click Here

Lost.

It was like one of your traits. Getting lost easily. You sigh and look left and right to see if anyone was in the hallways to help you get back to the gym, or at least give you directions.

“Those guys...are gunna be worried if I don’t get back soon,” you sweatdrop a little and laugh nervously, picturing your childish team just losing it when you come back late. “I better hurry,” you mutter to yourself, pace quickening the slightest bit, just as a door to one of the classrooms slide open with a thud, revealing a spiky haired guy who stares and blinks at you. You take that opportunity to ask the guy where the gym is. 

Back at the gym where the team is doing warmups and practice receives, Tartaglia starts getting antsy and annoying. “Where’s Y/N-chan~~?” He sways back and forth. Zhongli sighs at his middle blocker, “She’ll be back soon, she just went to look for a vending machine,” They still had an hour to go before the practice match, so Zhongli wasn’t that worried. 

“Hmmm? It’s--HIT--been a while--HIT--since--HIT--she’s been back --HIT--though--HIT,” Kaeya states. Sentence cut off in pieces as he tries to keep the volleyball up in the air, his tied up blue hair starting to stick to his neck because of the sweat. Still, the team keeps practicing, up until 10 minutes later when even their captain starts to get antsy. 

“...Captain, don’t hide it, just admit you’re worried for her too,” Tohma states with a harmless laugh. Zhongli muses and finally sighs, “I have to stay here. Someone else go and look for her,” and immediately seven hands are in the air.

Tartaglia waves his hand “Me, me!”

Kaeya raises his hand “I’ll go!”

Diluc does too “I can do it...”

Albedo follows “I remember the layout of the school,”

Kazuha volunteers “I’ve got good instincts,”

Xiao gingerly picks his hand up “I’ll bring her back fast,”

and finally Tohma’s hand is high in the air, “I’ll find her!”

Of course everyone wanted to go... Zhongli decides he doesn’t want to deal with it and tells his team to go with rock paper scissors. Watching them battle it out really made him wonder how the hell he kept this team together. 

“YES!” Tartaglia pumps his fist in the air as he, Kazuha, Xiao and Tohma win the simple round of rock, paper, scissors. Kaeya, Diluc and Albedo are silently sulking, but continue their practice. “We’ll be back soon!!” Tohma waves at them as they exit the gym, starting their search on the ground floor classrooms.

Back where you were, you’d been following the guy for at least 2 minutes now. He said he’d lead you to the gym...but...it seemed as if there was less and less people to wherever he was taking you. It was the ground floor, at the end of the hallway where lockers lined both side of the walls. Suddenly the guy’s hand is wrapped around your wrist and he pulls you towards him. You instantly resist, pulling your wrist back and keeping away from him. “I-I just want to go back to the gym, my team is waiting for me,” 

You steel your gaze at the guy. If he thought you were just going to stand there and take his blatant disrespect for your personal space, he was wrong. But his next move leaves you feeling disgusted, your skirt hikes up and he grins. “Stop!” you screech and twist your wrist away.

Tartaglia halts in his tracks at your familiar voice. His head turns just as his other three companions does. 

The scene unfolding before him makes. him. see. red. 

Hell, he doesn’t even see anything except the image of him punching that grin off of that guy’s face. His vision zones in on the bastard’s features, he strides over, in less than 5 seconds reaching towards the guy’s collar and slamming him on the nearest locker. “The hell do you think you’re doing?!” You’ve never seen him so angry before, but the realization of what happened has you cowering away, feeling like some dirty thing that was played around with. 

“Tartaglia, ease up!” Tohma runs to try and restrain Tartaglia’s arms. He shoots a look at Xiao who immediately turns around to get the rest of the team, particularly his captain. Kazuha strides over to you, watching as you faced away and looked at the ground, ashamed. 

Kazuha was never one to resort to violence, nor was he particularly a resentful guy. But he feels it. He feels the hatred rush through his veins, but he focuses on you instead. “You’re alright, Y/N,” he places a hand on top of your head and smooths your hair down just as the others arrive. 

Tohma is barely holding on to Tartaglia, his strength matches his fury, but Diluc finally arrives and together with Tohma, successfully pulls Tartaglia away from the guy. 

“Calm down,” the red haired spiker insists, to which Tartaglia only shouts, eyes engulfed in fury and piercing the offender with his gaze. 

“This fucker touched Y/N!” 

Zhongli, Kaeya and Diluc freeze at the news. Their heads slowly turn towards the attacker. 

And now all set of 8 eyes on him are menacing, cold and unforgiving.

How dare he.

But Diluc holds his ground, restraining Tartaglia. 

Zhongli’s head turns towards your frame, seemingly meek and tiny and tears pooling around your eyes. 

Xiao hurries next to you as he arrives, the displeasure on his face was immense, specially when he starts wiping off the tears cascading down your cheeks. He grits his teeth “Don’t waste your tears on someone like him,” he knew well that you must have felt ashamed, and that your tears were not something you could control, but it was the best thing he could say. 

It was Kaeya, unrestrained and gurgling with hot anger that lifts his fist up.

But it was not his fist that connects with the offender’s jaw.

It was not his hands that pulled the offender up by his collar once again.

And it was not him who states “Do not come near her again. Don’t even look at her,” 

The whole team freezes. 

It was their captain.

The captain that was always calm and collected. Who always tried to stop fights and apologize for the inconveniences that his team caused. There’s a shiver that runs up the member’s spines at the feral look on their captain’s face. 

And then he drops the guy on the ground once again. The offender panicking and crouching backwards and away from them. “We should report it to someone,” Albedo, sensible and smart as ever, suggests. “...but throwing a few more punches in doesn’t seem so bad...” he adds and narrows his eyes at the guy.

“No, don’t. Let’s not waste our energies,” you firmly say and wipe the remaining tears away from your eyes. Kaeya moves over to your side and slides his jacket off of him and places it around your shoulders. “Okay, princess, whatever you want, we’ll just drop him off at the principal’s office and make a report,” when it really counted Kaeya’s flirtatious nicknames for you were quite reassuring. You smiled up at him a little.

Zhongli passes another glance at you, his fist is still tight next to him but he hoists the guy up and has Tartaglia come with him, since he was the one who saw everything. 

The rest of the team turns to you, with Tohma taking your hand and leading you back to the gym. “You’re okay, Y/N, we’re here,” and sure enough they keep close enough to you to fend off anyone else. Like wolves protecting their pack. You knew the chances of that happening again was slim, but seeing them so concerned and circled around you like a shield was really what you needed right now. 

“...Thank you,” you whisper to them as you arrive at the unfamiliar gym. They all turn back to you with a smile. 

“We’ll beat them to the ground at this game, Y/N, you’ll see,”

Taglist: @softlybeloved @bobaducky @normalisthenewnorm @how-simpy @atasi-luna @berryqueue @hallohun @milkypompon @fadinganchornight @coldstonecrematorium @probablybethere @hanachan_2481 @gultonluvv @batcatistruemaster @plumpkie @amigenshin @foxxtrot-116 @spirlimpo @hadesaedes @minyoustar @yunaholics

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[ah-ga-seven]

No More Pain | Jung Jaehyun

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Fem!reader 

Synopsis: The lingering wounds of your miscarriage have reopened. Now that you are broken up, an unforseen change in Jaehyun’s life has brought him back to your doorstep. Will he be able to fix you this time? Or will he fail just the same as before?

Genre: Angst, One Shot. 

Warnings: mentions of the reader having a miscarriage, depression, alcohol addiction and heartbreak.

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: Probably one of the heaviest angsts I’ve written. I know the subject is rough but the idea came from a dream so I just had to write it down.

This was a different kind of pang to your heart.

You’ve had your fair share of tragedies, heartbreaks and disappointments, but this…

This feeling was nothing like anything you’ve ever felt before and quite frankly, you wouldn’t wish this upon your greatest enemy.  

It was a Thursday night, one like many where you decided to stay in and recharge from a busy day at your demanding job.

You were seated on your couch with a hot cup of tea as you mindlessly scrolled through your Instagram feed. Completely wrapped in the warmth of your favorite fleece blanket. But even the thick fluffy material couldn’t protect you from the cold shivers that ran down your spine.

You blankly stare at the post your best friend forwarded to you via dm and stiffened.  

Memories of the night you miscarried 4 months into your pregnancy flood back to you as you stare at his comment.

You remembered how broken he looked when the doctor couldn’t find the baby's heartbeat anymore.  

You remembered how he held you as you cried in his arms, promising that he’d love you just the same as he tried to console you to his best ability while suffering himself.

You remembered the pain and the relief of having Jaehyun by your side through it all. Glad that even though your life was about to change forever, he’d be the one constant thing you could rely on.

You remembered all of these moments like they happened yesterday, wishing future you could mentally prepare past you for what was going to be the hardest time in your life.  

The man who swore never to leave you did just that, and not even 6 months into his new relationship, your biggest insecurity was made into a reality.  

He had moved on for good, and even though you have no ill feelings towards him, you can’t help but feel anger over sadness right now.  

It was that easy to replace you. And that easy for him to find someone that could give him what you couldn’t.

Even though your miscarriage wasn’t the direct cause of why he left, the effects of the incidence on your mental health dragged him down with you. So both of you felt it’d be better to part ways for the sake of not wanting to hate or resent each other in the end.  

But God…you hated and resented him now more than ever.  

It didn’t matter to you that both of you started to date new people, because a part of you always held on to the fact that you’d somehow find your way back to each other, though the probability of that ever happening again turned to ash.

Your miscarriage broke you.  

No appetite for weeks, no motivation to get yourself out of bed and no cure for the monsters in your head who told you that Jaehyun was only sticking around out of pity for your broken state.

That same insecurity is what drove him into the arms of the women he told you not to worry about, and now they’re having a fucking child together.  

Knowing that that should’ve been you was a thought that was just too much to bear right now. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach, tears prickling your eyes as you rub the spot on your belly where the mini bump used to be 8 months ago.

You were finally doing better, thriving in your job and social life. Meeting new people and dating a few loose ends here and there, but you can already feel yourself spiraling back into old depressional habits as you stare at the picture once more.  

You pettily decide to like it, hoping it would spark interest from none other than your ex, and much to your surprise, it did.

Not even 20 minutes later your phone started to buzz on the counter as you poured yourself a glass of wine. You mindlessly retrieve it, expecting it to be your best friend but when you see his name as you take a sip you almost choke.

Is he serious?

You try to come up with what to say for the next 3 to 5 minutes but nothing in your head seems to translate your exact feelings to your fingertips.

You sigh in agony while leaning over on your kitchen counter with your phone still in your hands, reading his messages over and over again. You subconsciously start to bite your lip in deep thought, getting startled by your ringtone as your phone starts to ring in your grasp.

“Fuck,” you mumble to yourself, taking a big chug of the alcoholic beverage in front of you, putting on the bravest face and straightest posture to make yourself feel better before accepting the call.  

You knew you didn’t have to answer, but you were dying to hear what he had to say under these circumstances.  

“Y/N? Is that you?” His voice was unchanged. You didn’t know why, but you expected him to sound different, be different. Yet the same worry he’s always had for you was evident in his tone this time as well.

You clear your throat to avoid a voice crack and sigh. “Congratulations,” you tried to sound as genuine as you could, but you knew you sounded like shit.  

You start to play with the ends of your hair out of anxious anticipation, waiting for him to respond on the other end of the line.  

“I meant to tell you,” he starts. “I just…I didn’t know how and Chaeyoung suddenly uploaded the picture and-”

“Jae…please spare me the details,” you interrupt him. Saying his name like you used to felt like speaking a foreign language. He stayed quiet upon hearing your voice again and let out a frustrated sigh.

“Do you still live in the same apartment in Itaewon?” he suddenly asks, immediately alerting you to stand up straight because he could only be asking for one reason and one reason only.

“Y-yes.”

“Good, I’m on my way.”

Just like that, he hung up and just like that your heart rate starts to race uncontrollably.  

You down the remnants of your wine glass and hope he’s isn’t too close because your place looked far from neat. For the next 15 minutes, you run around, shoving things into random cabinets. Whether those items belonged there or not was the least of your concern and just as you fluff the last pillow on your couch, your doorbell rings.

You take a deep breath, calming your nerves as you walk up to your front door, taking it off the lock before you open it with a dramatic swing.

There he was. Jung Jaehyun.

As beautiful and put together as he always looked, no matter the circumstance. You forget how to breathe when you lay eyes on him and gulp. It’s actually him.

His big dark orbs widened as he laid eyes on you after months of not seeing you. His facial expression softened, slowly parting his lips to speak but you beat him to it when you broke out of your trance.  

“What are you doing here?” your shoulders fall as you look into his eyes for answers. The same eyes that once looked at you with so much love and adoration, but right now his pupils were stressfully darting back and forth, trying to read you like he used to be able to but he had no idea what you were feeling right now.

“Because I feel like shit y/n. Please let me in and let me explain,” he pleaded with a defeated tone.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “What is there to explain? You knocked up your girlfriend and finally got what you wanted. Why bother coming here? To rub it into my face?”  

Your plan of staying calm and collected went completely out the window just now and you could tell by the shock on his face that he did not expect you to be angry with him.

He took a step forward, backing you into your own hallway. His height towered over you when you stepped back and without looking back he closed the door behind him.

“Y/n. I would never purposely do that to you. Ever.” You ignore his statement, narrowing your eyes at him.

“I don’t remember inviting you in Jaehyun. Does she even know you’re here?”

You hold your ground, crossing your arms over your chest as you wait for him to counter your attack, but he simply shook his head. Knowing damn well that you’re acting tough just so you won’t get emotional.  

As he’s scanning the premises, his eyes linger on the red wine bottle on your kitchen counter and with a look of utter disbelief, he averts his attention back on you.

“You’re drinking again?” he asks with an almost condescending tone.  

“Did you come here to practice your parenting skills because no thanks Jae, please leave,” you bite back as coldly as you could, but he wasn’t having it.

“That shit almost killed you and you’re just casually drinking again?” He runs his hand through his locks out of pure frustration, not knowing what to do with the misplaced feeling of still caring for you just the same, while also knowing he has no business to tell you how to live your life.

The truth is, Jaehyun had no idea what he was doing here. Everything about the situation felt wrong and he couldn’t lie to himself any longer. Ever since Chaeyoung told him she was pregnant; he couldn’t be fully happy about it. He couldn’t commit to fatherhood knowing how much it broke your relationship. How much it broke the women he loved most to this day.

“A little red wine didn’t hurt anyone,” you mumble under your breath and that comment alone send Jaehyun’s emotions into overdrive, unable to hide his disappointment and worry for you any longer.

“IT HURT YOU Y/N. DAMN IT!” He raised his voice at you as he roughly grabbed your arm to make you look at him, which is the last thing you expected. He wasn’t mad at you. He was mad at himself. Mad at the fact that he wasn’t there when you needed him most and mad at the fact that this is what your lives had come to.

You might have previously dealt with your pain by drinking, and you might have mindlessly mixed your anti-depressants with your drink once, which…just might have earned you a trip to the hospital, but that was your lowest low and you made sure it’d never happen again.

You beat your demons by yourself when he had already moved on, so he had no place to waltz back into your life when he felt like it, just to judge you.

You’re absolutely fuming by now because of that same reason and much to your dismay you feel new tears well up in your eyes.  

“NO, YOU HURT ME!” you yell back at him as you smack his chest, the salty droplets streaming down your face as you kept hitting his chest to make him feel your pain. “YOU LEFT ME.”

Your knees got weak and you knew you looked absolutely pathetic as you crouched down in front of him. Shock took over his features as he got down on his own knees just as quickly, pulling you into the comfort of his arms. The warmth that you used to call home and the warmth that always seemed to calm you down engulfed you completely, a feeling your favorite fleece blanket from before could hardly imitate.  

He patted your head with assuring strokes, whispering sweet nothings to you as he held you on the floor of your apartment. Letting you sob the pain away in his black shirt. “Shhh, it’s okay…” he kissed the top of your head, caressing your cheek as he wiped away your tears.

You calmed down slowly, ignoring the suffocating ache in your head and heart while he made you feel safe and sound like he always did. You sat there like that for God knows how long, letting your minds go into overdrive as silence comforted the both of you.  

Ironically enough, this scenery was the exact same as the one in the hospital 8 months ago. You cried in his arms just like this when you had lost your child, but now you were crying because you had lost him. For good now.  

“I would never purposely plan to have a baby this quickly y/n, you have to believe me. Chae was on birth control but it just…happened,” he whispers, finally breaking the agonizing silence.

You stay quiet, closing your eyes to the sound of his low voice, letting his words register. “I was going to tell you. I was planning to ask you out for a coffee but as soon as she passed her first trimester, she was just so excited and made the announcement…it was just bad timing.”

“All of this is bad timing,” you mumble, which made him nod in agreement. He sighed into your hair as he continued to explain. “Y/n, I’d be lying if I said I didn’t care for you anymore. I wish things were different, but they simply aren’t and I’m sorry.”

You sniff, dabbing your tears and your nose with the sleeves of your blouse before looking up at him through your lashes.

“You don’t have to apologize for moving on and being happy Jaehyun. It’s all I ever wanted for you.” You wipe the single tear that remained on the corner of his eye, not having realized that he shed a few tears himself too.

He leaned into your touch as he looked into your eyes before closing them, leaning his forehead onto yours while taking a deep breath.  

“I just want you to be ok.” He says suppressing a sob. “I can’t live this picture-perfect life knowing that you’re in pain y/n. It makes no sense; you deserve so much more it’s not fair.”  

Your lip starts to quiver as his words hit you, and you build up the courage to look at him again.  

He stared at you longingly and lovingly for the first time since forever and you knew a mistake was about to be made when he inched his face closer to you, but it was too late.

His lips made contact with yours and you completely gave in. Letting him lead you into a slow yet passionate kiss that took both of your breaths away.  Before things could get more heated, you realize what was happening and froze.

You take a hold of his wrists as you pull away, your eyes staring into his equally electrified ones as you recompose yourselves.

“I-I’m sorry,” he started. “I should’ve never confused you like that. Fuck. What the fuck am I doing.” He covers his mouth as he got up. Frustrated with his own behavior, he digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands to suppress the urge to swing at your door or any other object in sight for that matter.

You get up just as quickly as well. Straightening out your clothes before shaking off the nerves of what just happened.  

You take a deep breath followed by a shaky exhale as you opened your front door, turning around on your heels to look at an equally distressed Jaehyun.

He was about to speak; about to confess that he still loved you, but you stopped him by raising your hand, motioning for him to keep whatever he was about to say to himself.

Your eyes find his own and you take one last glance at the man that was supposed to be the pillar to your family. The man you used to call yours, and the man that you had hoped to still have a future with, despite everything.  

But you knew better.

You knew what was right and you knew what you had to do before things would start to spiral out of control again.

You stepped aside so he could pass by you, trying to avoid eye contact all while you could still feel his burning stare lingering on your fragile state.

You swallow harshly, licking your lips before you spoke as clearly and steadily as you could.

“For the sake of your family, please leave Jae…and never come back.”  

[cower-before-power]

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon.  “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles.  “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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

Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey​ @chaotic-nick​ @manjiroarchiviste​

[mmvalentine]

Pomegranate pt 5 | Feysand

Hades/ Persephone inspired AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6

Rhys stays up most of that night with Cassian and Amren, making battle plans. The Night Court is far north enough that they aren’t in immediate danger. The same cannot be said for the Spring Court.

Since Hybern is already in the mortal lands, they are closer to the Spring Court than Rhys’s armies. He starts them travelling that very day, and then in the evening, is back in Feyre’s room. She is in his arms almost as soon as he winnows in.

“Hello lover,” he says into her hair.

“You still haven’t slept, have you?” she asks. Rhys doesn’t answer.

“Any response from Tamlin about the Hybern attack?” he says instead.

“Just one,” Feyre replies dryly, and then pulls back enough to meet his eyes. Rhys blanches.

Feyre’s face is mottled with bruises on her chin and temple. There’s an ugly gash across her left cheek, and a small cut in her eyebrow. Rhys’s knees give slightly, and he pulls her to sit on the bed before kneeling in front of her and inspecting her face and body. There are cuts on her hands, too. “Tamlin says, how dare you side with that night court whelp over your own father,” Feyre recites. “If I say Hybern isn’t a threat then it isn’t a threat. Stupid stubborn bastard.”

“He hit you?” Rhys said. His jaw is clenched so tight Feyre can see the muscles jump. Feyre’s laugh is brittle.

“Oh no,” she says. “He never hits me himself. He just… explodes things in my vicinity. And then he panics and says I shouldn’t have been standing so close. Or pressed him after he said to stop. Once, he actually told me I should have thicker skin.”

A snarl builds in Rhys’s throat, but Feyre touches his cheek.

“I’m okay, Rhys. They’re just scratches.”

“I’ll kill him.”

“Rhys. Don’t do anything dumb. Besides, whenever he really loses it at me he usually feels so guilty that he lets me out again. You know, until he finds another reason to lock me up.”

Rhys looked up at that. “So you’re free to go?”

“He hasn’t said anything yet, but he usually waits until breakfast anyway.”

“Well fuck waiting. Just come with me tonight, leave Tamlin for Hybern.”

“And abandon my own court? Would you do it?”

She has him there. Rhys sits back on his heels and drops his forehead to her knee. “I don’t know when they’re coming,” he says. “And I can’t just leave you waiting. Not when Tamlin’s doing this shit to you.”

“Okay, then stay here,” Feyre says. He looks up at here.

“Stay with you?” he asks.

“Yeah. I never like it when you leave anyway. And you need to get some sleep. Seriously.”

He looks at her and the anguish stings his eyes like hot tears. Hybern is coming. Tamlin is hurting Feyre. She’s asking him to sleep in her bed. There are too many things to feel.

“Come on,” Feyre says gently. She tugs him off his knees. “Come to bed.”

Rhys lets her pull him up into the bed. He toes off his boots and shrugs his arms out of his jacket and shirt, sending them in to a pocket realm in case someone comes in and finds his things on the floor. Feyre blows out the candle on the table by the bed, and gets under the sheets with him. He pulls her against him, and nuzzles her face into her shoulder.

“My armies are on their way,” he says. “Hybern won’t win.”

“Sleep now, Rhysand,” Feyre whispers, and he doesn’t think he could just fall asleep when he’s wrapped around this girl in her bed, but she hums a lilting song under her breath and he does.

///

Feyre wakes Rhys early in the morning by tracing her fingertips over the contours of his face. Travels the mountains of his cheekbones and the planes of his nose. Trips over the valleys of the crease above his eyelids, and is just brushing over his lips when his fingers tighten at her waist.

“Hello you,” Feyre says softly.

Rhys’s eyes open slowly, and he loves that she is the first thing he sees in the morning. The dawn light is filtering in through Feyre’s gauzy white curtains, and catches in the loose strands of her honey-gold hair.

“Hello my favourite flower.” His voice is scratchy with sleep.

Feyre’s hands are now trailing down his bare chest, and he watches her studying his tattoos. His hands start to wander, too, and he can feel the heat of her skin through the short satin night gown that he doesn’t remember if she was wearing when he got in last night.

“What do these mean?” Feyre asks quietly. Rhys uses his ankles to tug one of Feyre’s legs between his, and strokes down her flank again.

“It’s sort of a rite of passage for Illyrian warriors,” he tells her, now swirling a finger up her arm and over the top of her bare shoulder. Her skin in contrast is creamy white and unblemished.

“Did they hurt?” she says. She’s now following the tattoos over his biceps.

“Yes,” Rhys replies, with a smile in his voice. His throat bobs. “But it was worth it to have you touching me like that.”

Feyre smacks him lightly and pulls her hands back, but Rhys grabs them and places them back on his chest. “Don’t stop,” he says.

Feyre meets his eyes then, and in the dawn light Rhys finds flecks of gold in her blue-grey stare. He circles his arms around her and pulls her closer in. “I’ll never get tired of your hands on me,” he murmurs. Feyre’s gaze drops to his mouth then, and she blushes slightly but her fingers start to move again. Cautiously at first, up his chest and over his shoulders. Rhys closes his eyes and breathes deeply while she does it. Feyre rubs a little more firmly down his arms and back up. The next pass down, she scratches lightly and a rumble stirs low in Rhys’s chest. His fingers twitch around her waist.

Feyre runs her nails up and then down his back, and now Rhys can’t keep his own hands still. He makes broad strokes over her back, too, fingertips following the line of her spine from the nape of the neck all the way down her backside. Back and forth, slow and leisurely, while Feyre’s hands slide under his hair and scrape down the back of his neck. The next time Rhys reaches Feyre’s ass, he keeps going and brushes her pussy through her underwear.

Feyre’s touch stutters, but she doesn’t make a sound. Moves her hands down his chest and over his abs, while his travel back up. And then back down.

With every pass he pushes his fingers against the growing heat of her, and on the third stroke he can feel her getting wet through the cotton. Rhys pauses, and then pushes her underwear to the side so he can feel her. When his fingers slide down the bare core of her, Feyre moans softly and it’s all Rhys needs to be rolling smoothly over her with his erection pressed firmly at her centre.

“I’m going to vanish our clothes now,” he says, an inch from her nose.

“Okay,” Feyre says breathlessly.

Rhys does so, in a moment between moving his body down and back up hers. They both breathe sharply when they find nothing separating their skin, and Rhys gets achingly hard between her legs. He holds still for a minute.

“Just a reminder that we have to be quiet,” he grits out. “Is this a terrible idea?”

“Yes,” Feyre says. She grins like sunshine through clouds. “Let’s do it anyway.” She rolls her hips beneath him and Rhys is moving again. He snaps his wings out and cocoons the both of them, as if that will help stifle sound. He puts his mouth on hers, and a second later he’s shifting between her legs and pushing against her pussy.

Feyre gasps slightly, but Rhys just kisses it from her lips as he focuses on going slow. Her breathing shallows but he’s holding his breath until he hits his hilt, and then he exhales hard against Feyre’s neck. She is so impossibly tight around him and she’s got her hands under his jaw now. He looks at her, and tries to anchor himself in her eyes as he pulls out just as slowly and then pushes back in.

“I fucking love you,” Rhys whispers to her, and then he moves again. Feyre tries to reply, but can’t form the words. She tries to hold onto his gaze but her eyes roll back as her body adjusts to the size of him and he starts to speed up. Just a little.

“It’s okay,” Rhys tells her. “I’ve got you. Keep your eyes on me.” With some effort Feyre pulls her head back up. “That’s it,” he croons, and then fucks her a little harder. Leans down to press a kiss to her lips, but doesn’t break his rhythm.

“Rhys,” Feyre gasps.

“Yeah honey?”

Feyre opens and closes her mouth, but can only manage his name again. “Rhys…”

“I know.” Rhys slides his hand between them and touches his fingers to her clit. His hips are relentless, and Feyre can’t catch her breath.

“Rhys I… oh gods I…”

“What’s that, petal?” She doesn’t know how he sounds so calm.

Rhys sits up onto his heels, and the angle deepens. He’s circling his thumb over her clit now, and Feyre’s eyes squeeze shut again.

“Open them sweetheart, please,” Rhys murmurs. He curls one hand under her thigh to bring her in closer to him. “I just want you here with me.”

Feyre forces her eyes open, but it’s so much more intense when they’re watching each other.

“I can’t,” she whimpers.

Rhys drops back down over her, and hovers his face above hers.

“It’s just me,” he whispers to her. “I’m right here.”

Feyre moves her hands to his face and somehow, with him this close, it is easier. The room fades away and his violet eyes fill her vision, and then they’re back in the field of wildflowers and they are the only things in the whole world.

“Good girl,” Rhys breathes. He moves his mouth on her nipple, then her neck, then her lips. Feyre's hands are on his ass and pulling him in further now, and he gets drunk on how much she wants him, too. Rhys watches her for a minute, then whispers in her ear. “I want you to come for me.”

And out of nowhere there it is, her climax is right behind her. Feyre holds onto Rhys more tightly as her breaths come fast and shallow, and there’s a moment she’s lost and her knees are gripping Rhys’s hips for dear life while his fingers move deftly between them and then the orgasm is bursting behind her eyelids and Rhys’s hand is clamping down over her mouth so she doesn’t make a sound.

Feyre shakes violently as the waves ebb, his wings tightening around her. Rhys takes his hand away and kisses her lips. She’s coasting on the come down when she realises Rhys has started to build his rhythm back up. He’s got his mouth at the hollow of her throat now and his hand squeezing over her breast, and before she knows it the spiral is tightening again.

“Come again honey,” Rhys says huskily.

“And you too?” Feyre asks.

“Yeah,” Rhys manages. His thumb is flicking over her nipple in time with the one over her clit. “I’ll come if you come.”

Rhys’s hips are getting erratic now and finally he is unravelling. Feyre is satisfied. She pushes her fingertips against his wings and listens to his breathing change, and then she’s floating again. She forgets to keep eye contact but at this point she can’t care about anything at all.

Rhys watches her eyes roll and her face flush. He loves her reactions to him, loves being able to watch her orgasm sneak up on her and the glorious look of almost surprise when it hits. Most of all he loves the way her pussy clenches tight around his cock when she comes, and this time when it happens he loses it and he’s right there with her, and he yells as he comes before biting down hard on his lip to keep himself quiet.

Their bodies shudder together and Rhys gathers Feyre close to him as they chase their breath. He takes in lungfuls of the scent of her and it is minutes before he finally pulls out and cleans them up with magic. Rhys has just gotten his arms back around Feyre and closed his eyes when there is a crash in the hallway outside.

Feyre sits bolt upright and looks at him with terror in her eyes. “My father,” she says.

But Rhys can hear shouting minds in the corridors. “No,” he says, sitting up more slowly. “Hybern. They're here.”

**** Happy weekend my loves! Wishing you all a wonderful day xx

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen @asteria-of-mars @fandomstalker27 @realbookloverproblems @dealfea @s-tormwitch @cretaceous-therapod @whenyadoesntcutit @scatterbrainedgirl @tanvee1231

[writemywaytoyourheart]

Aim For The Heart | Chapter 5: Crimson Pages

Pairing: hitman!jungkook x female reader

Genre: E2L, romance, angst, drama

WC: 6k

Warnings for this chapter: strong language, mentions of murder, blood, alcohol consumption, kook is an ass, tae is hot af, I think that’s it let me know if I need to add anything else

Tag list: @moonchild1 @hopekookies @barbellastyles98 @teresaisla @ggukkieland @mwitsmejk @scuzmunkie @jaebeomsblackgf @sugaslittlekookies @moon-asia @armyhollander @yoonchrisgullwrites @njkbangtan @higashikatasgf

summary; Jeon Jungkook is an infamous hitman, known for his inability to fail at whatever job is thrown his way. At least, up until now. Y/n, a kind-hearted and full of life teacher, is his newest target. Jeon isn’t sure who would put a hit on this seemingly innocent girl, but fortunately, that isn’t his problem. All he has to do is pull the trigger.

Previous → Next

The sound of pans clanging around in the kitchen brings Jungkook out of the deep slumber he was in. It was the first time in more than a week that he actually got a decent amount of sleep. 

Jungkook groans and rubs his eyes tiredly. 

When he is finally able to orient himself and remember where he is, he squints in the direction of the kitchen to see a shirtless Taehyung digging around in his pantry. 

"The hell are you doing?" Jungkook slurs.

Taehyung turns around when he hears the younger's voice, "Oh, morning Kook."

Then he turns and continues to rummage around noisily. Jungkook sighs and drops his head back down onto his pillow. He flings one of his arms over his eyes to block the sunlight streaming in and reminding him of the precious sleep he just lost. 

After a minute, Taehyung walks over and slaps Jungkook on the stomach.

Jungkook flinches, then groans in annoyance, "What the hell?" He snaps at Tae.

The older boy just smirks down at him, "Do you even eat? There's literally nothing to eat here but ramen and a few mushy apples."

Jungkook rubs his eyes, "What?" 

"Food. Sustenance. You have none." Tae speaks up louder making Jungkook flinch again. 

"If you're gonna complain then get the fuck out," Jungkook mumbles sleepily, turning away from his idiotic friend and closing his eyes again. 

Taehyung rolls his eyes, then slaps Jungkook's ass, hard.

The sleepy boy jerks up and turns to grab at Taehyung angrily, "Leave me alone, asshole!  Go find your own food!" He shouts, slapping at Tae's chest. 

"Come with me."

"No."

"Please."

"Fuck off." Jungkook snarls then lies down again. 

Tae sighs and sits on the edge of Jungkook's bed, "Grumpy butt." He mutters. 

Jungkook turns his head to peek at Tae, then he sighs, "Fine. Get dressed."

"Yippee!" Tae gets up and runs over to where his bag is, pulling out his clothes as fast as he can. Jungkook sighs tiredly and forces himself to get up and dress too. _

"So, when are you supposed to be finished?" Tae asks around a mouthful of food. He and Jungkook are in a small cafe, eating the breakfast that he so graciously offered to pay for. 

Jungkook finishes chewing and swallows before answering him, "They wanted it done within a month."

"A month? That's a big window. Most hits are a few days to a week." Tae muses as he takes another bite of his pancakes. 

"I know," Jungkook mutters, confused himself. They had assured him that a month was expected, even when he told them, again and again, he could get it done within a week at the most. 

Turns out he was wrong. 

There must be something they know that he doesn't.

Jungkook still can't shake the feeling that the target is playing with him somehow. She must be putting on an act to catch him off guard when he least expects it. 

"Sooo," Tae drawls, "Are you going to take a month to get it done?"

Jungkook sends him a glare, "Of course not, why would I waste time on one target?"

Tae shrugs, looking at Jungkook closely as he takes another bite of his food. 

"How long has it been?"

"That's none of your business-"

"Why are you being so secretive all of the sudden?" Tae snaps, making Jungkook glance around to see if anyone is listening to their conversation. 

There are only two other tables with people at the moment and none of them seem interested in anything going on around them outside of their little bubbles. 

Good. 

He turns back to his older friend and whispers fiercely, "Stop being so loud for fuck's sake. Are you trying to let the entire restaurant know what we're talking about?"

Tae just sneers at him before continuing to devour his breakfast, "I bet you a thousand bucks I'll be done with my hit before you're done with yours."

"Fuck off."

"No, I'm serious," Taehyung swallows the chewed-up pancake in his mouth, "I bet you one thousand that I'll be done first."

"No." Jungkook takes another bite, trying to ignore the young man sitting on the other side of the table. 

"What? You scared you'll lose?" Taehyung taunts with a smirk on his face, "Why should someone as good at what he does as you be afraid of a tiny school teacher?"

Jungkook glances up at Taehyung, his eyes burning with anger, "Fine, you know what? I'll take your bet."

Tae drops his fork onto his plate and reaches across the table. When Jungkook takes his hand, he shakes it once, "Deal," Tae says triumphantly. 

Jungkook just shakes his head and goes back to eating. He rolls his eyes when Tae speaks up again, "So, what's your plan?"

"You think I'd tell you?" Jungkook scoffs. 

Taehyung shrugs, stuffing his mouth again. ______________

"Miss ___?"

You look up from the worksheets you were going through at your desk. The kids have been working quietly at their seats with whatever they wanted to do at this time. 

A tiny girl named Minju is looking at you with big brown eyes, her long black hair is in two ponytails, one on each side of her head. You smile at her and set your pen down. 

"How c-can I help you, M-Minju?"

She hands you a picture that she drew, "This is for you." 

You look at it and see a few stick-figure kids smiling and holding hands in a line, at the end of the line is you, smiling and holding onto Minju's hand. You're even wearing your favorite white skirt and peach blouse, along with your chunky tennis shoes. 

A few tears spring to your eyes and you look back at the small girl, "It's b-beautiful Minju. This m-must have taken you s-so long to do!"

She shakes her head and smiles shyly, "It only took me maybe a little bit of time?"

You laugh and hold the picture to your chest, "I l-love it. Thank y-you so much."

She nods again, then she leans in closer to whisper softly, "You know we love you, right Miss ___?" 

You try your best to hold in your tears as you nod, "I love you little d-ducklings too."

"Oh yes, we know!" She whispers enthusiastically before turning and hurrying back to her seat. You smile at her as she sits down and gets to work on another picture. 

You place the picture as carefully as you can into your bag, wanting to frame it when you get home later. You're sure you have a frame somewhere that will fit it. 

The rest of the school day goes by smoothly, nothing much happening besides the kids getting a lot of their school work done. You always give them time to do their homework on Fridays so they don't have to worry about it over the weekend. 

You haven't seen Jungkook for a few days now, ever since you two hung out that day earlier this week. You were starting to wonder if there was something about you that he found annoying, then you reminded yourself of Mina's words to you a few years ago. 

"If someone doesn't like you for who you are, please don't waste your precious time on them, ___. You're worth more than that."

It isn't your problem if someone doesn't like you, you're just going to keep on doing what you do best. And that's being a friend to anyone who wants it.

With that in mind, you pack up your stuff after seeing the kids off and wishing them a good weekend. 

You look up when someone suddenly opens your classroom door, not even bothering to knock. 

When Mr. Baek walks in, you feel your stomach drop. 

"How c-can I help you?" You ask politely. 

He chuckles darkly and you feel a shiver go down your spine when he walks over and sits on the edge of your desk, pushing his glasses up his long nose. 

"Next week is the last week of school," He says casually. 

You nod, "Y-Yes, it is."

He looks at you pointedly, "Are you coming back next year?" 

You swallow thickly, "U-Um, I th-think so."

His demeanor changes suddenly and he glares at you before standing up, knocking some of the papers off your desk as he does. 

Then he leaves without another word, practically slamming the door shut behind him. 

You stare at the door in confusion, wondering what he has always had against you. He hasn't been very pleasant to you ever since you started working here back in August of last year.

You shake it off and finish packing your things. 

When you're all packed up, you peek outside of your door, checking both ways down the halls to see if he's lingering around anywhere. When you don't see him, you slip out of your classroom and hurry down the hall towards the front.

You peek your head out the front too, glancing both ways before coming out and cautiously walking down the front steps. 

Fixing your bag on your shoulder, you hurry down the sidewalk, just wanting to go home and not stop anywhere today. 

"Hey, wait up."

You jump out of your skin at the sound of a voice right behind you. Then you turn and see Jungkook walking closer to you, a look in his eyes that you can't decipher. 

"Heading home?" He asks casually. 

You nod, a smile slowly spreading on your face at the sight of someone who you think might be your friend after all. 

Jungkook smiles at you, but you notice something flash in his eyes before he smothers it and comes closer, "Can I walk you home?" He asks.

You look at him closely, trying to figure him out. When you can't, you nod once again, "Yes, tha-that would be ni-nice. Thank y-you."

Jungkook walks next to you as you continue on your way home. You try your best to think of something to say, but you aren't sure what to ask to make the awkward tension between you two break. 

You glance over at Jungkook and see him watching his feet as he walks. That brings a smile to your face again. 

You look down at your feet and notice how much bigger Jungkook's feet are than yours. Even with your tennis shoes, his feet look huge. 

A tiny giggle escapes your lips and Jungkook lifts his head to look at you.

"What's so funny?" He asks in confusion.

"Oh, n-nothing." You assure him before biting your lip and looking down at your feet again. Jungkook squints at you suspiciously but lets it go. 

When he looks back down he notices that your walking pace has matched with his. 

He looks to the side at you and feels a tiny pinch in his chest when he notices how concentrated you are on trying to make sure your pace matches his. Jungkook forces himself to look away, not liking the feeling that's coming over him all of the sudden. 

Remember why you started this, Jungko-

"Where h-have you been, J-Jungkook?"

He starts at the sudden sound of your voice, then when he regains his composure he laughs sheepishly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. 

"I've been busy with work." 

"Oh."

"And an old friend of mine came to town." He explains further, not sure why he feels the need to. 

"Ah, r-really?" You ask enthusiastically, clearly excited for him, "That m-must be so n-nice."

"Meh, he can be a pain." Jungkook chuckles and you smile at that, then you frown. 

"If your f-friend is visiting, you ought t-to be h-home with him."

"Nah, he's fine," Jungkook reassures you quickly, "He's probably just eating my food and watching TV." 

You laugh at that, a bright sound that makes Jungkook genuinely smile for the first time since meeting you. You can see the smile in his eyes. 

Then it's like it vanishes into thin air as he clears his throat.

"Anyway," He mutters, "Want to hang out this weekend?"

You look at your fingers that you are fiddling with, it's a habit you've had for years. Then you nod, "S-Sure, we c-can invite your friend-"

"No, it's fine," Jungkook cuts off your suggestion. For some reason, he doesn't want you to meet Taehyung. 

Or maybe he doesn't want Taehyung to meet you.

Either way, he doesn't like it. 

"I mean," He continues when he sees the look of confusion on your face, "He has something with work this weekend. He's on a business trip right now. So, he doesn't have a ton of time to hang out." Jungkook explains in a rush.

Now he's just rambling.  

He clears his throat and nods, shutting up. 

"Oh, ok." You say simply. 

Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief when you don't push it any further. 

You make it back to your house a little while later, Jungkook walking you up the stairs and right to your door. 

"Thank you, f-for walking me h-home." You say sweetly, smiling at him. Jungkook just nods, then after a moment of silence he speaks up, "So, what time did you want to hang out tomorrow?"

"Um, maybe w-we can meet for l-lunch?" You suggest. 

Jungkook agrees quickly, "Alright, then I'll meet you downstairs at noon." Then he turns and hurries away, just like he always does. 

You laugh at his behavior, wondering why he always seems to be in some kind of rush. Then you go inside, setting your things down before heading to your closet to find that frame you know you have that will fit the picture from Minju perfectly.

-

"Where were you?" 

Jungkook rolls his eyes at the words Tae speaks right as he comes into his apartment, "Does it matter?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I was bored all day long." Taehyung pouts.

Jungkook makes a face at him, "Entertain yourself then, idiot. I wasn't even gone for longer than an hour."

Tae watches Jungkook as he pulls his shoes off, "Were you working?" He asks with a lilt to his voice. 

"If you must know, I needed to take a walk alone, without you talking my fucking ear off." Jungkook snaps. 

Taehyung's eyebrows raise to his hairline, "Fuck, someone's grouchy. You on your period, Jeon?"

Jungkook looks up at Tae, dropping his shoes on the ground, an unamused expression painting his features. 

He sees Tae's mouth twitching as he fights the urge to laugh. That just pisses Jungkook off even more. He bends to grab his shoes to put them back on, but Tae jumps up from the couch and hurries over to knock the shoes out of his hand. 

"I was kidding, JK. Jeez."

"Why are you even here?" Jungkook asks in exasperation, "Aren't you supposed to be getting a hit done or something?"

"Don't pretend you don't like having me here," Tae smirks and punches Jungkook lightly on the arm. 

"I don't."

Tae frowns, "You used to be a lot more fun."

"Well, I'm not anymore, so leave me alone." Jungkook brushes past Taehyung to get to the kitchen. But he gets stopped once more when Tae grabs his arm. 

He looks at Tae in annoyance, "What is it?"

"I should be asking you that. The last time I saw you was a year ago and you were my same old Kook. What happened-"

"I grew up, okay?" Jungkook yanks his arm back and continues his trek to the kitchen to scrounge through the fridge. 

"Growing up doesn't equal being an asshole to your best friend," Tae mutters before moving to the couch and plopping down onto it, now in just as much of a funk as Jungkook is.

The younger boy pulls a bottle of soju out of the fridge and glances at his friend sitting on the couch, his brows furrowed and his arms crossed over his chest. 

Jungkook purses his mouth before moving over to the couch and holding the bottle out to Tae. 

The older boy looks away in a huff. 

Jungkook sighs, "Look, Tae. I'm sorry, okay?"

Taehyung glances at him, "Sorry for what?"

Jungkook fights the urge to roll his eyes, "For being an asshole." 

Taehyung snatches the bottle and opens it with ease, taking a quick sip before grinning at Jungkook, "Ok. I forgive you, you little shit."

Jungkook's nose twitches in irritation but he doesn't say another word. 

"Well, I'm hungry," Tae says simply, taking another swig. 

"Me too." Jungkook sighs, sitting on the couch. 

"We need to go grocery shopping." Tae looks pointedly at his young friend. 

They sit there in silence for a minute before Jungkook heaves a huge sigh, "We can go on Sunday."

"Why not today?" 

"Because they have a lot more deals on Sunday," Jungkook says, making Tae choke on his next drink. 

"The fuck, Jeon? What are you, an old woman?" He wipes his lips, smiling at the glare Jungkook gives him. 

"No, I just prefer not to spend a fortune on things like food."

Tae shakes his head in disbelief, "Who the fuck are you these days?"

Jungkook just stands up to head to the bathroom, "I'm taking a shower. There's some ramen in the pantry." 

"I'm sick of ramen," Tae moans. 

"Good." ______________

You swipe the lip gloss over your lips gently, not wanting too much. 

You never really wear make-up but you decided you wanted to try it out today and ask Jungkook how it looks. Mina is usually the one to tell you all the things you can do to improve it or tell you how good it looks. Since your best friend won't be back for another three weeks, you suppose Jungkook will have to do. 

You look at the simple look you did, with just a little coverage, some mascara, gloss, and a tiny bit of blush. You think it looks okay, it's definitely a subtle difference. 

Then you hurry to your closet to get out your favorite white skirt. You decide to wear your peach blouse today as well since it always lifts your mood and you could definitely use a mood-lifter. 

When you're finished pulling your clothes on, you look at your phone and notice that it's a little after noon. 

"Oh!" You run out to grab your purse, tripping a little on your own feet before you get on the ground and pull your shoes on. 

By the time you're running down your steps, Jungkook is wondering if you've forgotten your plans as he stands downstairs and looks at the time on his phone. 

Then he looks up to see you bounding down the steps, your hair flying around and your skirt hiked up as you hold it so you don't trip. 

His eyebrows shoot up as you stumble in front of him. 

"So-Sorry I'm late." You huff out as you struggle to get your hair out of your lip gloss where it decided to stick. 

Jungkook shakes his head, "You're not late. I just got here." He isn't sure why he lies to make you feel better, but he does. 

Then he notices that you're wearing make-up. It's not a lot, a very light look. But, it doesn't look that bad-

He shakes his head again to clear it. 

No. No, no, no. 

Jungkook clears his throat as you watch him curiously, "Y-You okay, Jungkook?" 

He nods, "Fine. Let's go."

Then he turns and starts to walk briskly.

You hurry to catch up with him. 

-

"You p-pick the food thi-this time." You say with a smile when he asks you what you want for lunch. 

Jungkook looks around, then he points to a little restaurant, "How about that place?"

Well, that was easy. 

You nod, "Sure! I've n-never been there."

"Me neither," Jungkook admits as you two make your way there. 

You laugh at that and Jungkook finds himself fighting a smile. 

Stop it. 

Stupid. 

Jungkook opens the door and walks in, once again leaving you to grab the door before it hits you. You brush it off and follow him in. 

"Table for two?"

You see a girl in a black and white dress holding two menus and smiling at the two of you. Jungkook nods uncertainly and you two follow her to a table in the middle of the room.  

After you sit, you look around and see a few couples eating at different tables around the restaurant. You look at Jungkook to see he's already looking through the menu. 

"This place is fancier than it looked from the outside," Jungkook says with a frown as he looks over the options. He hadn't meant to take you to a nice place. 

You grab your menu and open it up, almost gasping at the prices. 

Then you look at Jungkook again. He glances up to see your huge eyes peeking at him from over your menu. 

"L-let's get out of h-here." You whisper suddenly. 

"What?" He whispers back. 

You glance behind you to see the waitress coming over with some water for you both. She sets it down and smiles graciously. 

"Would you like to order some other drinks?" She asks politely. 

You look at Jungkook in a panic. 

He gulps and looks back at the waitress cluelessly. You realize he is just out of his element as you are, so you speak up. 

"C-Could we have another m-minute p-please?" 

Her whole face changes when she hears your voice. Her eyebrow twitches and she bites back a laugh as she bows and moves away. 

You have no idea why she did that so you just brush it off, but Jungkook has a feeling it had to do with your stutter. He looks at you as you glance around the fancy room cluelessly, that same feeling coming over him that he got the other day. He pushes it down again. 

Then he jumps a little when you take his menu away from his face and whisper, "C-Come on, let-let's escape while she isn't l-looking." 

Jungkook stares at you like you're crazy when you watch her walk away into the kitchen before jumping out of your chair. 

"We haven't even b-bought anything yet. Co-Come on!" Then you reach over and grab his hand, dragging a very confused Jungkook out of his chair and practically running out of the restaurant. 

You're giggling like a little school girl as you run down the sidewalk, still holding onto Jungkook's hand tightly. He doesn't fight it, just follows you until you run into a small dress shop. 

When you finally let go of his hand, you turn and the smile on your face is bright as you reach a hand up to cover your mouth. You can't seem to stop laughing at the situation. 

Jungkook is frozen in his place, still trying to figure out what just happened. 

"W-We should find somewhere else to eat f-food." You say, still giggling a little.

Finally, Jungkook seems to come out of his shock and nods, "Uh, yeah...where should we go?"

You shrug, "It's s-still your tu-turn to pick." 

Jungkook can't help staring as you blink a few times, looking around the shop, then your head cocks to the side for a second. 

It's almost like you can't control it. 

Then you look back at him and notice him staring at you, making your already pink cheeks turn even pinker. 

"Uh, y-you okay Jungkook?" 

You snap in front of his face and he blinks back into reality, "Oh. Oh yeah, sorry." He rubs the back of his neck, feeling awkward that you caught him staring at you. 

You just send him a bright smile and shake your head, blinking hard a few times, "It's okay, I-I b-blank out sometimes t-too." 

Jungkook takes a deep breath and looks out the window, watching people walking by on the sidewalk. 

"Let's just find some food. I'm starving." He mumbles, then he hurries out of the shop, you hot on his heels. 

You two find a small cafe that isn't nearly as fancy as the other place and go inside. 

Jungkook leads you to a table for two and you take a seat. There are already menus on the table and you reach for one. 

Jungkook reaches at the same time and your hand brushes his. He pulls back like you burned him and you look at him apologetically, "S-Sorry."

He just swallows and gestures for you to take one, so you do. 

"Ohh, this looks m-much better." You say happily when you glance over the menu. 

Jungkook mumbles an agreement, relieved you two aren't at the other place anymore. As much as he hates to admit it to himself, he's glad you got both of you out of that. 

You end up ordering a few different dishes that you agree to share so you can try more things. There isn't much talk until the food comes, then you're both too busy stuffing your faces to speak. 

When you've had your fill, you sit back and sigh, rubbing your tummy with your hand. "Ohh, I'm so f-full," You moan, "Lo-Look, I've got a food b-baby!" You exclaim, laughing. 

Jungkook snickers for a second before smothering it and continuing to eat the rest of the food that you can't stomach. 

You frown, wondering why he won't just let himself laugh. Then you decide right then and there that you'll get him to laugh someday, whatever it takes. 

Jungkook ends up asking for a box for the leftovers because apparently, he isn't a bottomless pit like you initially thought. He explains when he sees the confused look on your face, "I was going to bring some back for my friend if that's alright?"

"Oh! Of c-course." You say with a smile. Jungkook wonders again how you can smile so much all the time and not have sore cheeks. 

You and Jungkook bicker for a moment over who pays the bill, then you end up deciding to split it up. Jungkook pays for more than half of it, insisting that he ate more anyway. When the bill is paid and the rest of the food is packed up, you two head out. 

Jungkook looks up at the clouds for a minute before speaking, "So, what should we do now?"

You're quiet for a minute, then you hold up a hand, "I h-have an idea!" 

Jungkook nods, "What is it?"

"F-Follow me." Then you scurry away. 

-

Jungkook looks at you in confusion. 

You had him sit down on a big rock in the nearby park as you dug through your bag. Now, you're finally pulling out a sketch pad and some pencils. 

"Want t-to draw?" You ask happily. 

Jungkook feels a pinch in his chest at the sight of blank paper and colored pencils. He hasn't picked up a colored pencil since he was fifteen years old. 

Since right before this all started...

He snaps out of it when you gently place a blank piece of paper on his lap. Then you pick out all the colors of the rainbow and reach out to grab his hand. You open his hand and place the pencils in his waiting palm. 

Jungkook feels his palms get sweaty when he closes his fingers around the pencils.

"Th-There you go. Now, d-draw whatever you'd l-like." You say, the teacher in you coming out. 

You see a small smile on his face before he again hides it and adjusts himself on the rock. He hands the pencils back to you, pushing them into your hands roughly. 

"I don't want to, thanks though." 

You frown at that, wondering why he's upset all of a sudden. 

"Did I d-do something wro-wrong?" You ask anxiously, aware of his change in behavior. 

"I'm tired is all," Jungkook says as he stands up suddenly, the piece of paper you gave to him floating down next to you on the ground. You take it carefully and place it in your bag along with the pencils. 

"Ok. I'll j-just go home then." You say, picking yourself up off the ground, "You sh-should go get some r-rest, Jungkook." You say kindly, putting your purse over your shoulder. Jungkook doesn't meet your eyes as he nods. 

"See you later," Jungkook says stiffly before turning and walking away. 

You bite your lip, waving goodbye to him even though he can't see you.

-

Jungkook runs up the stairs to his apartment, bursting through the door and tugging his shoes off. He notices that Tae isn't here as he walks over and sits on his bed. 

What the hell is the matter with him?

Why does he feel like this?

Suddenly the door opens and Taehyung struts in, pulling his shoes off and dropping them by the door. Jungkook looks up and does a double-take when he sees his friend. 

Taehyung is in a black and white suit, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, the tie loosened and his black hair a bit messed up. He looks rumpled like he was just in a fight. But that isn't what takes Jungkook by surprise. 

His friend is covered in bright red blood.  

And he's smiling brightly, his white teeth a shining contrast against the dark stains on his clothes. 

Jungkook swallows, "What the fuck, Tae?"

Taehyung just grins wider, "I win." 

Jungkook hangs his head, "You came up the damn stairs like that? You fucking dumbass. What if someone saw you?"

"No one saw me, chill JK!" Taehyung walks over and holds his hand out, "I believe you owe me something." 

Jungkook fishes his wallet out of his back pocket and pulls out the amount they promised before shoving it into Tae's bloody chest. 

Then he walks to the kitchen and grabs the to-go box he brought back. He holds it up for Tae to see, "This is for you. Wash up before you eat it though."

Taehyung walks over and touches Jungkook lightly on the chin, "Thanks, sweetie." Jungkook pulls away, feeling something on his face that was on Tae's finger. He reaches up to wipe the blood off of his chin, "Go wash up," He snaps. 

Tae just nods and saunters off into the bathroom. 

A few hours later, Jungkook is in bed and listening to Taehyung rant about how fucking satisfying it was to rid this world of that rapist bastard and how Jungkook should've seen the look on his hit's face when he realized who he was and why he was there. 

"So, how is your hit coming along? How is ___ doing?" Tae asks suddenly. 

Jungkook tenses at the sound of your name, then he remembers that Taehyung saw the file and that's how he knows your name. 

"I'll be done soon," Jungkook assures him quietly. 

"Mm." Tae responds, then he yawns, "What does she look like anyway? I didn't get to see since you tore up the picture."

Jungkook swallows thickly, "Why does it matter?"

"Is she hot?"

"No."

"Come on, I bet she's a fucking cutie. That's why you're so down in the dumps." 

"She's just a fucking idiot. She's annoying, stupid, ugly, and can't even speak correctly." Jungkook huffs out in a single breath before turning on his side and slamming his head down on his pillow again. 

The silence after that is deafening. 

"The fuck you mean she can't speak correctly?" Taehyung guffaws suddenly. 

"It means exactly how it sounds. She's just a worthless nobody." Jungkook spits. 

Tae laughs quietly, "Damn, that's harsh, Kook. Even for you."

"Shut the hell up and go to sleep."

"As you wish. Night, JK."

"Goodnight." Jungkook grits out. 

When he's finally able to drift off to sleep, Jungkook finds himself in an apartment that he's never been in before. His brain tells him that it's his target's place. 

He looks around, wondering why it's so quiet. He walks to the back, looking at all of the childish pictures decorating the walls of the hallway. 

"Hello?" He calls out cautiously. 

When he gets no answer, he walks into the room at the end of the hall. There's a big bed with a giant octopus stuffie on it. Next to the bed is a pair of pink slippers. 

Jungkook turns and walks into the bathroom inside the room, there's no one. When he moves to leave, he sees his reflection in the mirror and freezes.

He's covered in blood. 

A dark crimson color decorating every inch of him. 

Jungkook turns and sees the bed again, but this time, there's someone in it. He walks out of the bathroom and sees a body lying motionless on the mattress. It's also covered in blood. 

His heart rate picks up as he sees sudden flashing images of the target, holding his hand and dragging him out of a restaurant, laughing giddily. Then you're kneeling in front of him on the grass and offering him a blank piece of paper, "You can d-draw anything, Jungkook." You stand up and swing your arms out, "Draw m-me!" 

Then the images are gone and he once again sees the lifeless body on the bed. It's wearing a long white skirt and a peach-colored shirt, their socks are bright pink with frills. He can't stop seeing all of the little details. 

Jungkook stops breathing as he inches closer to see the face.

A feeling of dread washes over him as he steps closer and closer. 

"J-Jungkook?" A small voice whispers somewhere near him, but he doesn't stop walking closer. He needs to see it. He needs to see their face. 

"Jungkook, I th-thought you were m-my friend-"

He swallows thickly his throat suddenly dry as he is about to see the face of the person he just killed. Then someone walks through the bedroom door, he looks up and sees Taehyung smirking, covered in blood as well. 

"Nice, JK. I guess you really had it in you." 

The small voice doesn't stop as Jungkook turns back to see hair covering the girl's face. He reaches over and moves the hair gently-

"J-Jungkook-"

"Jungkook..."

"Jungkook!"

"JUNGKOOK!"

Jungkook shoots straight up, his eyes wide open as he grabs at his chest. He starts to cough while he feels himself, trying to make sure he isn't covered in blood. 

He's in his own bed. 

Fucking hell he's in his own bed.

"Shit, the hell kind of dream were you having?" Taehyung's voice rings out next to him. Jungkook flinches and looks to the side to see Tae sitting on the edge of his bed. 

"You're sweating like a turkey the day before Thanksgiving." Tae laughs.

Jungkook ignores him and stumbles out of bed, trying to get to the bathroom.

Taehyung watches in confusion as Jungkook fumbles his way into the bathroom and then he hears his younger friend fall on the ground before he starts to gag.

"Hey, whoa. You okay, Jeon?" Tae gets up and moves to the bathroom to see Jungkook hunched over the toilet and throwing up whatever was in his stomach. 

The older boy plugs his nose and gags at the sight, "Shit, Kook. Fuck." 

By the time Jungkook's stomach is emptied of its contents, Tae has all the young man's clothes off apart from his boxers and has tossed him into the shower to rinse him clean. Tae gags again at the smell as he rinses Jungkook off before putting some shampoo in his hair and rinsing him again.

"Fucking pain in my ass," Tae mutters angrily. 

Once Jungkook is all cleaned off, Taehyung grabs him some fresh boxers and a pair of sweats to put on. He tosses them on the closed toilet seat and closes the door behind him so Jungkook can get dressed in private. 

A few minutes later, Jungkook comes out of the bathroom, his hair wet but he's clean and in nice new clothes. His cheeks are pink from embarrassment, but Tae just waves it off when he tries to speak. 

"Ah shut up. I know, ya ate something bad. Blah blah blah. We never speak of this again, understood?" 

Jungkook just nods at Tae's words, then he speaks up quietly, "Want to go shopping now?"

The older boy stands up and claps his hands, "Finally! We'll have something to eat around here."

Jungkook is relieved that it's all in the past by the time they get to the grocery store, but that relief is short-lived when he sees a girl in a long pink skirt and light yellow shirt carrying a basket down the candy aisle right in front of them. 

She trips a little on thin air but catches herself, her usual bright smile gracing her features still. 

Then she looks up and sees him, her smile getting wider as she raises her hand to get his attention.

Fucking hell.

____________________

a/n: so sorry its late my loves, but i hope you liked it!

[doctorstethoscope]

The Right Chapter 5 || Aaron Hotchner x Fem! Reader

This is a big one babes!! Hold on tight!! 

Read previous chapters of this fic here!

Contains: canon-typical discussion of violence, soft aaron hotchner supremacy 

wordcount: 1.8k

You barely saw Aaron on Sunday, despite being in his house the whole day-- Jack was practically buzzing with excitement the moment you came through the door, pulling you down to his height and wrapping his arms around your neck to squeeze you in a hug.

“Hey, little man, I’ve missed you!” You said enthusiastically, returning his hug. 

“I missed you too. And so did Daddy. He said you were sick so I drew you a feel better card,” he told you, dragging you over to the coffee table and brandishing the  piece of computer paper he’d folded in two to form a card. 

“I love it so much Jack! I feel better already. Let’s put this on the fridge, yeah?” You said, standing up and shooting Aaron a smile as you crossed the kitchen. 

“Can we play legos now?”

“Buddy, give her a second. She just got here.” Aaron tried to calm Jack down, but you waved him off. 

“Just let me put my stuff away, and I’ll meet you in your room, okay?’ You told Jack, who scurried off towards his bedroom.

Aaron must have found some other way to entertain himself, because you and Jack spent the whole morning together, only taking a break after lunch when it was time for Jack’s nap. He insisted that you put him down, and after three readings of Curious George, he was finally asleep. When you turned to leave, you saw Aaron sitting in the door jam watching you.

“He was so excited this morning you would have thought it was Christmas,” He remarks as you meet him in the doorway. 

“He’s a good kid.” You whisper, slipping out into the hallway and pulling the door shut behind the two of you.

“I’m lucky.” He agrees with you. 

“Come on, Hotchner, it’s not all luck.” You tease him good naturedly as the two of you move back to the kitchen. He saw you headed for the sink, full of dishes from lunch, and sped up to get in front of you.

“Ah, ah ah. It’s naptime.” He told you, placing his hands on your shoulders and turning you around. 

Before you could stop yourself, you stomped your foot, not entirely unlike a child who needed a nap. “Hotch, come on!” 

“We’re probably getting called on something tomorrow, and sleep will be hard to come by, and you’ll wish you’d listened to me.” He tells you.

“You’re acting like you aren’t going to bench me, regardless of whether or not we get called on a case.” You accused of him, and he at least had the good grace to try and look sheepish. “I’m not tired. Can we just watch a movie or something?” You offered a compromise, and he nodded, leading you to the couch. 

You plopped onto the couch and picked up the remote as Aaron crossed the room to grab a throw blanket for the two of you to share. He spread the blanket across the couch and sat down, and you tucked your feet underneath you, unintentionally leaning in closer to him as you flicked the TV to a movie channel. Aaron stretched his legs out in front of him, extending one arm across the end of the sofa and the other arm around the back of it, conveniently making more space for you. As Hotch had suspected, it wasn’t long before your eyelids started to get heavy. 

“The dishes…” you mumbled sleepily. 

“I’ll take care of them.” He whispered, leaning in closer so you could hear him. 

“Later. It’s naptime,” you reminded him, your head resting against his chest in sleep. His arm came to rest across your shoulders and down your side, drawing you into him. He inhaled deeply, trying not to overthink. 

You’re her superior. His brain screamed. She loves Jack, not you. She loves Jack, but that doesn’t mean she wants to raise him. You’re too old, too cranky, too much baggage. This isn’t what you think it is. As much as he wanted to make himself believe all of that, as much as he wanted to accept that even if he knew he would go through hell and back for you, he could never have you, all he could focus on in that moment was the steady puffs of breath coming from your nose and landing on his chest. He realized, with a start, that it felt like walking into the wrong classroom your senior year of high school and locking eyes with the woman you knew you were going to marry.

  Aaron’s prediction had been correct-- Monday morning had found you jetting off to Kentucky, for the murder of three county paramedics-- by the time your plane had landed, another body had dropped. A firefighter. You all climbed into SUVs from the airstrip-- Hotch and Rossi off to examine the bodies, Morgan, JJ and Prentiss to the most recent crime scene, and you and Reid to the police station to the police station to work on the geographic profile. Normally you’d be off with Hotch and Rossi, and examining a body wasn’t technically field work, but you went with Reid with minimal pouting, knowing you were lucky that Hotch had let you leave Quantico at all.

You decided to let Reid drive, and you were fiddling with the radio when he spoke for the first time. 

“I keep… thinking about what there is to say to you, to communicate how much we’re all here for you, how much we all love you and we all want what’s best for you, and it feels like everything just falls short. I have an IQ of 187 and I still can’t find the words, but I can’t say nothing. I was scared for you. I’m proud of you, and if you need anything I just want you to know I’m here. I might not have the right words but I promise to listen, and to make sure you feel heard.” The words stumble out of Spencer awkwardly, but still strike you with their sincerity. You sniffle a little before responding. 

“I know, Reid. I know how much you all care for me. I’ve never doubted that for a second. Thank you.” You tell him, your voice thick with emotion. 

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.” 

“I am.” You tell him with a confident nod. “Or, at least, I’m getting there. I did the hard part. I got out.” 

A few hours later, you were at the police station with Reid, narrowing the geographic profile and spitballing with victimology, when one of the local officers poked his head into your makeshift office-space. 

“Another body dropped. The town librarian.” 

“Two in one day?” You asked. 

“He’s spree killing now. He’s devolving.” Reid supplemented. 

“Do you think it was random? He was killing first responders. The librarian doesn’t fit.” 

“Could be,” Reid agreed. 

“Have you called the rest of our team?” You asked the officer. 

“Not yet.” 

“We’ll call.” You told him, and he nodded. You pulled out your phone and dialed Hotch as Reid crossed the room to call JJ. 

“Hotchner,” he said into the phone. 

“Hey, it’s me. Another body just dropped.”  

“He’s devolving.” Aaron sighed

“It was the local librarian.” 

“But he was killing--” He started, but you could hear the words he was going to say before he even thought them.

“First responders, I know.” 

Aaron let out a deep sigh. “If I take Reid off of babysitting duty, are you going to behave?” He asked. 

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, but I reserve the right to bitch about it when this is over.” 

“Noted. Tell him to meet us at the next scene, please?” He asks of you.

“Will do. Stay safe out there.” 

“You too.” Hotch said before hanging up. 

You sent Reid off to meet up with Hotch, and sat back down in front of your case files and notes, determined to find something written between the lines. After a tortuously slow thirty minutes, a thought occurs to you. You step into the police bullpen and get the attention of one of the officers. 

“Hey. Does this town contract out its EMS services?” 

“No,” the officer tells you. “They’re all employed by the town. They’re paid with a mix of taxpayer and grant dollars.” 

“So they’re government employees?” 

“Yeah.” The officer confirms, and you pull your cell phone out of your pocket, heading out a side door to get a little bit of air and some better reception to call Garcia. 

“What’s new bugaboo?” Garcia asks as she picks up the phone, and you can’t help but smile. The sunshine felt warm on your face as you paced the empty back lot of the police station. 

“Hey, Garcia. Is there any way to track if anyone in town has some sort of anti-government bias?” 

“I can look for fringe political groups-- if the unsub is a member, that might help, but it would take me days to just search through every resident’s social media.” 

“That’s okay, start there. Look for white men between 23 and 45. If I think of anything else that might weed it out I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, kitten. Are we talking strict anarchists here, or should I be looking at groups like--” 

Garcia continued, but you couldn’t hear her over the sound of a gun cocking and the sensation of cold metal at the back of your head. You gasped. 

“Sweetie? Did you think of something?”

“It’s time to put the phone down.” A voice said from behind you. You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. 

“Who was that? Are you okay?” Garcia asked.

“Go on,” the voice said. “Hang up the phone. Don’t be dumb.” 

You hung up the phone without saying another word to Garcia. The man dragged his gun down your spine, resting it against the middle of your back. “To think, I came here thinking I might kill a couple of cops, and I ended up with an FBI agent. Talk about an upgrade.” You tried to subtly reach for your gun, but it was useless. He strikes you in the head with the barrel of his gun before you can react. “Come on, sweet thing. I told you not to play dumb with me.” 

“You really think you can kill an FBI agent outside of a fully staffed police station without getting caught? And you’re going to call me dumb?” You asked, hoping that he couldn’t hear the fear laced in your voice.

“Who said anything about not getting caught?” He chuckled. “We all die eventually. Might as well make it worth my while.”

tagging:  @the-modernmary @greeneyedblondie44 @angelic-kisses13 @wanniiieeee @hotforhotchner11  @baumarvel @ssamorganhotchner @zheezs14​

[high-functioning-lokipath]

RPF - Tom x Reader - He's attempting to be in disguise and you run into him at a library and recognize him. - Words: 1,152

A/N: Alright, so for clarification sake, there is a text message conversation in this imagine. You, as the reader, your texts are in blue text. The other person's texts are in green. I simply do not have the skill to make bubbles lol

Also Y/F/D means Your Favorite Drink

Now, without further ado....

"Ma'am? Ma'am?" You whisper to the lady behind the desk. She seems to be ignoring you though so you whisper louder. "Hello!"

"What do you want?" She snarks, finally paying attention to you.

"Where do you have your classic literature?"

"Ya mean like Shakespeare an’ that?" She asked, obviously disinterested. You nod and she points to the back corner of the building. Thanking her, somewhat half-heartedly, you walk off in search of a copy of your new favorite Shakespeare play. You'd never read it in full but, after seeing a spectacular performance of it, you wanted to read it yourself. Finding the correct aisle, you saw another person was looking at the same area. You tried to get a look at him but he had a knit cap on, pulled down, covering his hair and part of his face. He also had his jacket collar turned up shielding the rest of his face from view. You just shrugged it off and started scanning down the shelf looking for the right book.

"All's Well That Ends Well, Antony and Cleopatra," You read quietly, running your hand down the spines. "As You Like It, Comedy of Errors."

"King Lear, King John, Julius Caesar," The Man muttered to himself, working towards you on the same shelf. He hadn't seemed to have noticed you yet. You couldn't shake the feeling that there was something familiar about him though. "Henry 6, 5, 4, Hamlet."

"Ah ha!" You exclaimed. As you reached for the book you were searching for, his hand bumped yours reaching for it too.

"Sorry," He immediately said, pulling his hand back from yours.

"It's alright," You replied, trying to get a look at his face. Much to your disappointment, however, he was wearing dark glasses.

"Coriolanus is a fine play. Have you ever read it?" He asked.

"Not yet," You admitted. "I saw a spectacular production of it from National Theater though and-" you cut yourself off, finally recognizing the badly disguised voice and the not horribly disguised face.

"Uh, I," He stuttered. "Perhaps I should go."

"No!" You immediately said. "I mean, don't worry about it. I won't tell on you." You smiled abit shyly, surprised you've been able to keep yourself together long enough to form a sentence. "You've obviously gone through a lot of trouble to get here quietly, so," You shrugged. "I shouldn't ruin that for you."

"Well, thanks," He smiled. "Sorry about trying to take your book," He apologized.

"Oh no worries," You replied. "Here," You held it out to him. "I'll just re-read Hamlet for now." He took the book and looked at it for a moment. Then he looked back at you and smiled again.

"Aren't you going to ask for a picture or something?"

"No," You shook your head. "I'm not going to impose on you. Now if you offered," You teased. "Not going to lie, I really really want to but-"

"Give me your phone," He interrupted, holding out his hand. You handed him your phone, unlocked and on camera, and he took off his hat and sunglasses and ruffled his hair a bit to get rid of matting from his hat. Turning to stand next to you, he leaned over a little and held up the phone for a selfie. "Smile!" Once he took it, he brought it up on the gallery to make sure it looked alright. He tapped a couple of things and then showed you the picture. "What do you think?"

"Oh!" You said, finally finding your voice again. "Perfect! Thanks so much, Tom."

"You're welcome. Look, I have to go take care of something real quick. Are you going to be here for a while?"

"Probably."

"Ok, I'll see you again in a few minutes, alright?" You nodded happily, a silly grin working its way on your face. He turned to walk away but stopped and faced you again. "Oh, I forgot to ask, what's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Would it be too cliché of me to say that's a lovely name for a lovely lady? Because it's true." You giggled, blushing furiously and shook your head. He took your hand and kissed it, grinning mischievously. "Y/N, adieu! I have too grieved a heart to take a tedious leave." And with that he left. In a bit of a daze you grabbed the Hamlet book off the shelf and sat on one of the comfy sofas in the corner. After quickly making your new selfie your background on your phone, you settled in to read. About 5 minutes later, though, your phone buzzed.

"This better be important," You grumbled.

Hey, what would you

like to drink? Coffee?

Tea? Frappuccino? Let

me know.

Tom?

Yes? 🙂

"Holy crap," You gulped. Scrolling up slightly, you saw he had texted himself your selfie together.

Sorry if that was a bit too forward. I can just delete your number. I'd just ask that you don't publish my information anywhere.

NO!

It's fine. Actually, kinda funny. Usually I'm the one who has to tell people to ask me first before giving out my number 🤣 I'm not on social media, by the way.

Good for you. It can get messy. Now you haven't answered my question.

Oh! Yeah! Lol Uh, well, I usually get Y/F/D if that's not too much trouble. 🙃

No trouble at all. ☕🍵

[Image attached] (pic of drinks)

Heading back! I have a surprise for you! 😉

Lol 😂 Ok! Can't wait!

"Hi there," He said, peeking around the corner of a bookshelf a few minutes later.

"Hi," You squeaked. He handed you one of the cups in his hand and then sat down next to you.

“Oh, this is for you.” He handed you a smaller package in a brown paper wrapper. You opened it quickly and saw the copy of Coriolanus that had been on the shelf.

“I don’t understand,” you said, a bit confused.

“Well, I may have taken it to the desk and bought it,” He admitted. You stared at him wide eyed. “Open the front cover. I hope you don’t mind.”

For Y/N

Let it be virtuous to be obstinate.

Love, Tom Hiddleston

“You didn’t have to do that, Tom!” You exclaimed. “I-wow! Thank you! That’s a great line too! I haven’t read it before but like I said, I saw a wonderful production of it,” you teased. He laughed and took a sip of his tea.

“Maybe we should read it together,” He suggested slyly, another mischievous glint in his eyes. “And then, perhaps, if you’re agreeable to it, we could go to one of my favorite restaurants a few blocks away and have dinner?”

“I would most certainly be agreeable to that!”

“Wonderful!” He smiled. “Now shall we begin? I have a few favorite scenes that I’m sure we would quite enjoy acting out as well.”

“Indeed. Let’s get started!”

[thebibliosphere]

In case you’re wondering what it’s like to be in the ER right now for non Coronavirus symptoms, allow me to say on behalf of all the medical professionals in the US and indeed the entire world right now: STAY THE FUCK INSIDE AND ADHERE TO SOCIAL DISTANCING GUIDELINES AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE TO HELP FLATTEN THE CURVE AND REDUCE THE SPREAD OF INFECTION.

I experienced my first ever “thunder clap” (x) headache this morning, the pain was so intense it took away my ability to think. I couldn’t move, speak or even scream. It subsided in under 5 minutes, but those were the longest 5 minutes of my life, and I’ve had root canals done without anesthesia. I’ve fractured my spine, gotten up and carried on walking.

We called the nurse helpline only for them to say they’d call us back. They never did. ETD ended up driving me to the ER, where we debated going inside. The administrator told us we would need to separate, he couldn’t come any further than the red line marked on the floor. I was escorted through empty corridors toward a space that used to be inhabited by seating cubicles used for IV lines (can you tell I’ve been here a lot?), that had been turned into prefabricated rooms. The nurse leading me through the corridors had a walkie-talkie strapped to his front. He kept up a running commentary of where we were at all times. I asked him if it was because I might be contagious, and he told me frankly, yes.

I was asked several times if I had flu like symptoms, did I have a cough, did I have a fever. I told them I did not. They didn’t seem to know what to do with me. I was seen first by a junior doctor, who for reasons of importance later on, I need you to know looked like young John Mulaney 

“She doesn’t have flu symptoms, what should I do?” he whispered to the nurse from behind the plastic curtain separating me from the rest of the world. 

“Well what symptoms does she have?”

Stroke. Possibly. Or a brain bleed. It was possible, with my history of neck injury. My blood pressure certainly implied something was wrong. A senior doctor was called in, who re-performed the neurological testing, which was all fine. They continued to panic over my blood pressure, however, right up until I said “if you let me lie down I’m sure it will normalize.”

“Why?”

“We think I have POTS, I’m seeing Dr X at this hospital.”

“Why isn’t that in your medical file?”

“She doesn’t want to label me with a disability because of how she thinks it will negatively impact my outlook on life.”

“...as opposed to actually having POTS?!”

“Yes.”

Which was the first time I’ve ever actually heard a doctor say “What the fuck?” loudly and emphatically. In my head I nicknamed him Sassy Senior Doctor. It was evident he was standing on his last nerve and had stopped giving a shit about everything that wasn’t keeping people alive.

“What else is missing from your file?”

“Ehlers Danlos Syndrome and Mast Cell Activation Syndrome.”

“Oh my god why are those missing?!”

“Ehlers Danlos is a new diagnosis from outside [Network] and my files are pending release. MCAS was because the allergist at this hospital told me it’s a made up disease.”

“No it isn’t!”

“Tell that to the allergist.”

I was allowed to lie down and my blood pressure normalized. They concluded I was not having a stroke. 

It was during this conversation that junior doctor, Dr. Young Not John Mulaney, came back into the room, and the Nurse, not missing a beat said “looks like we’ve got a zebra*, not a horse in the hospital.”

They were all wearing masks, but Dr. Young Not John Mulaney’s facial expression was clear. Outside the plastic curtain, Sassy Senior Doctor made a sound something like what I imagine an owl being given the Heimlich maneuver would sound like. 

“We’re trying to figure out what to do with you.” Dr. YNJM said. “You’re the only patient in here not for respiratory problems.” 

I was once again asked if I had any flu like symptoms, or if anyone in my family had. “My husband’s had bronchitis for six weeks.”

“That’s too long to have bronchitis,” said the Sassy Senior Doctor. “What did they give him for it?”

“Prednisone.”

“Jesus H Christ. Is he staying home from work? What do you mean no? Is he an essential healthcare worker? No? Tell him to stay home. For his sake and yours. I don’t want to see you back in here with a collapsed lung...”

They consulted with a neurologist via tele-medicine, who said the excruciating burning sensation I described lancing through the side of my face, sounded like trigeminal neuralgia (x). “She needs to come see us. It might be TN, or it might be her neck pinched a nerve. EDS can be like that.”

“Can you take her right now?”

“Are you kidding?”

They could not take me right now. Apparently I will have to wait until we are not facing a global pandemic.

“Can you feel your hands?” Sassy Senior Doctor asked one more time. “Can you wiggle your toes? Can you grip my hands. Do you still not have any flu or flu like symptoms? No? Excellent, get the fuck out.”

The nurse assured me he meant it kindly, and I believed her. 

They prescribed me muscle relaxants I can’t take because of my EDS, but said it might help, in a pinch—no pun intended. 

“Stay home and stay safe” was the final parting advice I was given, and then they let the zebra out of the hospital.

---

*There is a common expression in the medical community: when you hear hoof beats, look for horses, not zebras, meaning that if a patient presents with X symptoms, they probably have the most likely diagnosis, which is Y. 

Unfortunately for chronic and genetic problems like Ehlers Danlos Syndrome, this means our health issues are often brushed off as mental health, life style choices, or sometimes maliciously as attention seeking. This has lead to the community adopting the Zebra as their mascot, because sometimes when you hear hoof beats, it’s worth looking for stripes.

[juletheghoul]

Mysticus Chapter 1

Ezra x F!Reader Soulmates AU

I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while and after reading all of the AWESOME writing on this website and with some really lovely encouragement from some of my favourite people here I've decided to give it a go. Always open to constructive criticism!

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Word Count: 1649K

Warnings: Language, tension? (Smut later on)

Literally my first fic, willing to tag if that's something you'd like!

Masterlist Chapter 2

--

“Stay away from Thomas”

The words were out of your mouth before your brain had a chance to stop you. Fuck. The girl you whose palm you held in your hands frowned.

“My date? Why?”

How. How did you always manage to shove your foot in it? You had been doing so well! A steady trickle of patrons to your admittedly shabby little stand. Okay, table with a glittery table cloth and a couple of folding chairs but nevermind that.

“Uhhh, yeah. I’m not sure why but I’m getting a really bad vibe. Is this your first date with him? Where is he?” You asked. You could feel the fear creeping in, like a drop of ice cold water that slides down your spine.

“It’s our first date, he’s grabbing us some food.” She responded, brow furrowed slightly, you could see she was having doubts about her safety.

“What kind of vibe are you getting?” The fact that she didn’t laugh you off right away let you know that she most likely wasn’t as comfortable as she should be on a date.

Your dog looked up at you from her place on the floor, seemingly interested in how you were going to explain yourself.

“Look, I don’t really know what to say I just feel like you should get away as fast as possible. I think you know what I mean, and I think you felt a little weird before you sat down.” You say plainly. You had broke your only rule. No bad news. You could feel her fear now, a wave of anxiety washing over the both of you all at once. In the corner of your peripheral you could see a handsome young man walking towards the both of you with food in both hands. Nothing particularly scary about him but you could feel the hackles raising on your normally silent dog. A low growl came from her direction and you put your hand on her head to calm her.

“There you a-“ he started but before he could say anything else the girl was up, dropping money on your table and hastily making a phone call.

“Sorry Thomas – my mom just called, there’s been an emergency and she’s on her way.”

He frowned. “I can drop you off-“

“No need, thanks for everything and hopefully we can do this again” she quickly called over her shoulder and then she was off.

He stood there for a few minutes dumbstruck. Then you saw something. A glint in his eye maybe? A trick of the lights flashing either from the rides or the games on the either side of your pathetic ‘booth’ and then it was gone. When he seemed to realize that you were sitting there, he gave you a smile and walked away. You shivered and noticed your dog was up and ready to pounce.

“It’s okay girl we’re good.” You reassured her and she once again took her place at your feet, but you noticed that she followed him with her eyes until he was out of sight. Fuck you really needed to work on thinking about what you said before you said it. At least she listened instead of telling you to fuck off, little victories.

“What do you say girl, think it’s time to go?” The dogs ears perked up as you scratched behind one, she responded by standing, her signal for yes. You grabbed the box you had stashed under the little table and started putting your makeshift booth away. The sign which read palm readings $5, the table cloth and the can with your earnings for the night. Slipping the end of the dogs leash around your wrist you folded up the table and chairs and stacked everything neatly and made your way to your Jeep. Tomorrow will be better.

Next day

Carnivals had always freaked you out. A lot of places that were supposed to be fun and whimsical freaked you out. You weren’t entirely sure what it was about these places but it made your skin crawl. The music playing gave you the creeps, the smiles of the people around you seemed wild rather than happy. There was a feeling of something bigger underneath it all, something hungry. Predatory. Patient.

It was a last resort in order to make some quick money with your palm readings, but it always seemed like you were walking into the jaws of some huge monster when entering the grounds.

The dog made you feel better. You had found her in a shelter a couple of years ago and had instantly bonded with her. The staff had told you that she’d been in there for a while since she was notoriously unfriendly but she seemed to tolerate you. You suited each other. What they took as unfriendly, you understood as selective, which was fine. You were selective too. You’d had to make a little sign saying please do not pet the dog but it was a small price to pay for her companionship. She - much like you - was an excellent judge of character.

You spotted a group of teenage girls eyeing your booth, and you perked up. Tried to turn on the charm as it were, usually teenage girls were your best customers. You were usually really good with them and these girls were just what you needed to reach your goal for the night. You smiled along and told them just what they wanted to hear, and seeing them walk away giggling with a spring in their step made you happy. That and the cash you were putting into your coffee can.

Just then you felt it. Something prickling at your skin, like static before a rainstorm. Blood rushed to your ears and it seemed like everything was somehow louder. Something in the pit of your stomach was roiling and you were afraid you might throw up when someone approached your table.

He smiled an easy smile but it held something in it, something that said he knew something secret and you weren’t in on it. You weren’t sure if it intrigued you or scared you. You looked over expecting the dog to growl but she was calm, sitting quietly by your feet. Okay. Weird. She usually didn’t like anyone except you and the occasional small child. She usually hated men in fact but no reaction. It was throwing you off a bit if you were honest but all of a sudden he was speaking to you and you felt like you could barely focus.

“Well birdie, seems like you’ve utterly captured my attention and I simply must know what knowledge you can ascertain from my palm.” He smiled and sat down.

You blinked. What the hell was going? Why did your skin feel feverish? Why wasn’t the dog freaking out like she usually did? Why aren’t you answering?

He patiently waited with his palm upturned and you tried to get your shit together as you slowly reached over and took his hand. He was handsome sure, but never had you been rendered so speechless by anyone before. His rich brown eyes bore into you as you traced the lines in his hand.

“You’re going to meet the love of your life.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Now that’s interesting, I don’t suppose you’d be able to go into specifics about how or when this fateful meeting is to occur?”

You watched his mouth as he spoke, and he noticed. Curling it into the same secret smile from earlier and you felt the blood rushing to your face. His eyes crinkled when his smile deepened it took everything in you not to smile back at him.

You noticed the blonde birthmark and for a moment you had the wild urge to run your fingers through it. You quickly suppressed that while clearing your throat.

“I don’t have a time and date for you but it’ll be real soon.” You looked back down at his palm and noticed something. There was a little mark. Nothing crazy but aside from yourself, you’d never met anyone else with the same mark on their palm. You tried very hard to keep your breathing in check.

“Is this a scar?” You asked as casually as you could manage.

“That particular mark as afflicted me since birth, curious is it not?” He asked with a tilt of his head. His drawl a little more pronounced. Is it getting hotter?

“Somewhat-“

“Has anyone ever had the privilege of reading the no doubt fantastic future in your palm birdie?”

“That’s the second time you’ve called me that” you responded focusing on the pet name he’d given you.

“It suits you, I ask again- has anyone ever been fortunate enough to read your palm?”

“No.” You responded flatly, reluctantly releasing his hand and sitting back in your chair. He stated back at you and it felt as though he was looking through you, you felt curiously naked.

“As enchanted as I am basking in your presence, I unfortunately must depart. Will you be offering your palmistry services tomorrow night? I should like to see you again birdie.”

“Uhh.. yes, I’ll be back tomorrow.” You’re not even sure why you said that, you were planning on leaving town tonight.

“Wonderful, until we meet again birdie.” He rose smiling, he took your hand in his and pressed a light kiss to it. You stared up at him in shock, your skin prickling where his lips brushed it.

He smiled down at your dog and before you could even think to warn him he reached down and scratched behind her ear. Your jaw dropped as she happily licked his palm while he murmured something into her ear before promptly rising to his feet and striding off into the crowd.

You stared after him long after with the same dumbstruck look on your face. Who the hell was that?

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

Tag list: @foli-vora @frannyzooey thanks for being patient with me ladies, this ones for y'all <3 @freak-nasty-thick-dick-mando

[lastbluetardis]

Sacred New Beginnings (1/?)

Summary: James Noble thought he traded away his chance at love and a happy-ever-after when he signed a contract with a record label that turned him into an international celebrity. But a chance meeting in a dive bar may prove him wrong.

Ten x Rose AU, @doctorroseprompts

This Chapter: Teen, ~5500 words

Note: Er... surprise? This idea has been in my head for months but my brain took it and ran with it this weekend. I plotted the whole thing and am gonna try to update every weekend. I don’t anticipate this being more than like... 7-10 chapter? I’d love to keep it under 5 chapters but that might be trimming things down too much for my liking. Anyways, I really hope you enjoy this little story!

AO3

Flashing lights and shrieks of his name greet James the moment the back door to his armored car is opened. His head of security ducks out first and James can only see a mass of feet and legs but it’s more than enough to let him know it’s a heavier than usual crowd. Not surprising, considering the news of his latest break-up just dropped while he’d been flying back from a visit to America.

He slides out of the car, helped by hands that pull him as much as guide him through the throng. He ignores the shouts of his name—telling him to look left or right or up or down or every combination therein—and the barrage of questions and jokes that aren’t funny.

Was it you or him that ended it?

Three weeks, is that a new personal record?

Another notch in the bedpost, eh James?

Got another beau lined up yet?

If you’re looking for candidates, what do we have to do to get our names in the running?

“Ignore them,” he mutters to himself, too quietly for anyone except his security team to hear.

In answer, one of them gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze as they reach his front door. Someone has already unlocked it for him and the darkness within is a blessing he’s all too willing to be shoved into. The cacophony muffles once the door shuts, and finally he’s alone, a rarity for him. If it’s not his security, it’s personal assistants and writers and producers and photographers and the paparazzi.

Or his lover of the month, as the papers have taken to calling his partners.

But nope, his home is empty and quiet and bloody freezing. A shiver ripples up his spine as he treads to the thermostat controller. Summer finally released its hold on London, and the muggy heat has been replaced with a damp chill that burrows down into his bones.

Several button-presses later, James hears the familiar clank of the radiator and he can smell the heating kick on. It’ll take a while for his house to warm up, so James keeps his peacoat on for the time being as he putters around his home, checking the fridge and the cabinets. As always, they’re well-stocked. He hasn’t had to do anything as mundane as grocery shopping in the five years since his YouTube channel full of acoustic covers of popular songs went viral and landed him a lucrative deal with a prestigious record label. Only in his wildest dreams had he expected to find fame and fortune in the hobby he loved so much—for it to have actually happened still took him by surprise, as though any minute he’d be told “it was fun while it lasted, but it’s time for you to leave wonderland now.”

Shaking his head of those thoughts, he goes to the antique dining table that can easily seat ten people, which is great for holidays or in-home meetings, but just plain depressing every other day of the year. A stack of mail has piled up, and he spends the next five minutes attempting to sort it before giving up and telling himself he’ll look at it in the morning, once he’s not quite as groggy—transatlantic flights always take it out of him.

Instead, he rootles around his fridge until he comes up with the necessary items to make himself a ham and cheese sandwich. With the prospect of food in front of him, James realizes he is starving. He shoves a whole slice of ham in his mouth while he assembles his pitiful meal, heaping on lettuce and sliced tomatoes as though that’s enough to negate the pile processed protein and greasy chips he layers in for crunch.

It’s tastier than any sandwich as a right to be, and he nearly makes himself a second one before catches sight of his phone screen and the slew of incoming notifications. His work is never finished, is it?

There are several texts from his publicist, Donna, welcoming him home and congratulating him on not making an arse of himself just by trying to walk up the front drive of his home. (To be fair, he felt entitled to channel his inner crotchety old man and tell reporters to get off his damn lawn if they encroached on his personal property.)

“Though some photos are surfacing of your trip to New York… Anything you need me to get ahead of?”

He rubs his fingers into his eyes, knowing she’s probably referring to his last night out in the city, where he went bar hopping until the wee hours of the morning to try to forget the text his subsequently-ex-boyfriend had sent him.

Thanks for everything, but I need to focus on my career. Cheers mate.

The career that James had kickstarted for him by introducing his rising actor boyfriend to several of his friends in the film industry, because James had been so damn desperate for affection that he’d once again let the wool get pulled in front of his eyes.

And so James had reached out to mates who lived in New York and they’d all gone out and acted half their age and had a wonderful time once James forgot about why he’d gone out in the first place.

But none of that now. Nope. No sir.

“Not that I’m aware of,” he replies. “Let me know if you catch wind of anything.”

Despite the fact that he only just got home and he’s jetlagged and still feeling the effects of his night out in New York, James can’t stay in his house right now. It’s so quiet that his brain is creating its own white noise. He can’t stand being in his head on a good day, and today is not a good day.

He grabs his keys and wallet and makes for the back of the house. His property is landlocked with the back gardens of other houses; the paps have learned the hard way that James is dead serious about protecting his neighbors’ privacy and will not hesitate to phone the police to arrest and sue anyone caught trespassing on private property to snag a photo of him. James hosts dinner for his neighbors several times a year and buys them gifts any chance he can to show his appreciation for their patience and tolerance.

In the dead of night, he slips out into his back garden, the crisp October air burning his lungs in the best way as he ducks his way through the neighborhood, his feet taking him far away from the crowd of reporters that are still stationed in front of his own home. Hopefully they’ll all have dispersed by the time he gets back. Perhaps he should have turned on music or a movie or something, made them think he was settled in for a lazy night in.

He wanders aimlessly for a while, enjoying this taste of freedom and trying to remember the days when he could leave out the front door of his flat without any fanfare.

It’s dark, and thick clouds obscure whichever moon phase they’re in, but the street lamps glow yellow on the damp pavement, lighting his way forward. A crisp autumn breeze ruffles his hair and the leaves, sending them tumbling around him and skittering across the residential street that’s so much quieter than the bustle of New York. It’s good to be home, though.

He arrives at a bus stop and catches one headed into the city proper. It’s no secret that James lives in London, and therefore the general population has gotten used to glimpsing him on the tube or walking on the street or frequenting pubs. He knows people snap quick photos of him, and he’s always happy to stop and pose for a selfie with respectful fans, but mostly he’s left alone when he’s out by himself like this.

Nevertheless, he hears the excited undertones of people trying to inconspicuously point him out to their oblivious friends. He keeps his head down, mindlessly opening and closing apps on his phone for something to do as he pretends he doesn’t notice them. He won’t be on the bus much longer anyway.

Several people get off the bus with him, including a group of teenage girls who are whispering heatedly among themselves. It’s almost funny, watching them debate amongst themselves before one of them approaches him.

She’s red-faced but determined as she blurts, “Can we get a photo?”

“Sure thing,” he says good-naturedly, inclining his head for them to come closer. “Need me to take it?” He holds out a lanky arm and flops it around a bit. “Got a longer reach than any of you.”

He’s certain one of the girls is about to start crying with joy as they all nestle into his side and hand him a new-model iPhone. Damn, it’s fancier than his own. When he was their age, he had an old flip phone that lost reception if he breathed on it wrong. It was a tank though—he’d dropped that thing hundreds of times, and nary a scratch.

“Do me a favor,” he says, handing the phone back to its owner, “and don’t ping our location if you post to social media, yeah? I appreciate it.”

“You’re my favorite person ever,” one of the girls squeaks.

His face splits into a grin and he tucks his hands into his pockets. “Is that so?”

The girls spend the next five minutes chatting with him about music and how they’ve been following him ever since his YouTube days. He listens and chimes in every now and then when they ask him a direct question, but he prefers being passive in exchanges like this, content to hear peoples’ stories. It makes him feel normal, if only for a little while.

Finally, they take their leave, and James turns in the opposite direction even though the destination he had in mind is down the street the girls had just taken. But he’s been burned far too many times by encounters with seemingly innocent fans, only for them to begin following him around and showing up outside his house to talk to him again. He makes a point of not drawing out public encounters with his fans.

He wanders down a street he’s vaguely familiar with, figuring he can backtrack in a couple blocks. The night is too beautiful for him to be upset about needing to take a detour.

Everything looks different in the dark, the glow of neon signs bathing everything in hues of greens and blues and pinks and yellows. Shops and restaurants are mostly shut up for the night, their windows dark or blinds drawn. Dingey motels with pay-by-the-hour rates are in full swing, as are the pubs that have a revolving door of people in varying states of intoxication.

Deep bass that he can feel all the way in his chest catches his attention, and he gets turned around a few times, but he eventually finds the establishment: Bad Wolf Brews. At first, he doesn’t think it’s open, and that he must be mistaken about where the music is coming from, but the heavy front oak door opens, and he realizes the glass on the door is tempered so that the interior lights don’t shine through. The music is clear and heavy and vibrating in his bones. He doesn’t think twice before catching the door before it closes and slipping inside.

The air is humid and smells of sweat and stale beer. Bodies are writhing and gyrating to the rhythm blasting through invisible speakers. The acoustics are phenomenal; none of the layers are lost and the sound quality is nearly as good as if he were listening to the record at home on his own stereo system.

The lights are low, and he’s sure he trips into a few people in the minute it takes for his eyes to adjust to the dimness, but finally, he’s at the bar. There are three open stools, and he claims one between a blonde woman and a red-haired man as he wonders what the hell this dive bar serves. He can see beer taps, but he’s more of a cocktail guy. He must look as lost as he feels, because the bartender hands him a menu that looks like it was hand-written and then photo-copied. It jives with the overall vibe of the pub.

The bartender checks in with him a minute later. James opens a tab and orders a sidecar sans sugar, and is pleasantly surprised by the quality. Not to make assumptions, but he’d figured an establishment such as this would have cheap liquor. If the alcohol in his drink is cheap, it’s well masked.

When he’s drained the last drop and about to signal for another, a hand rests on his shoulder. “Can I buy your next round?”

James looks up into the face of a stranger. It’s a woman with striking green eyes and a disheveled pixie cut. Judging by her crimson cheeks and glazed eyes, she’s three sheets to the wind. There’s buzzed, then there’s drunk, and then there’s plastered. He prefers not to let himself get to that last category, and by extension, he doesn’t really like to associate much with people who won’t remember the night come morning.

“Thanks, but I’m good,” he says with his most charming grin. “G’night.”

He has no idea if the woman knows who he is, but the way she shrugs and saunters to the gentleman sitting beside James, he doubts it.

He gets clumsily propositioned a few more times and always politely declines with a smile. So far, nobody here seems to recognize him and he is going to ride out this anonymity for as long as it’ll last. It has been too long since he’s been able to sit in a pub and drink quietly. Well, quietly, insofar as crazed fans or paparazzi aren’t harassing him—the music is loud enough that he’s sure to have ringing in his ears for a few hours once he gets home.

But he’s not really in any rush to get home, and so he orders his fourth cocktail before making his way to the loo. Alcohol goes right through him, and it’s nearly gotten him in trouble on tour a time or two.

There’s no line, but the loo is crowded, and he tries to ignore the double-takes as he stands in front of a urinal to take care of business. If he wakes up tomorrow morning to find that someone snapped a photo of him having a piss, he’s going to lose his goddamn mind.

Bladder tended to, James keeps his head ducked and shoulders his way back into the bar. His stool is unoccupied, and when he steps forward, he realizes why. A purse sits on it, seemingly reserving the seat but he can’t figure out for whom. He’s about to take the cocktail the bartender hands him and stand against the shadowed wall when someone picks up the purse.

It’s his blonde-haired stool mate. She flashes him a broad grin that lights up her entire face and squeezes something deep in his stomach.

“Saved your seat for ya,” she says with the ease and confidence of someone who’s known him his whole life.

“Thanks,” he manages through a suddenly dry mouth.

Feeling like an idiot for standing and gaping, he slips into his seat and downs half his new sidecar in one go. It’s as though the ice has been broken now, and she turns to him, her elbow on the counter and her cheek propped on her fist.

“Pretty sure you could outdrink a fish, mate,” she drawls, smiling again in that easy way that does too many strange things to his insides. “You’ve been knockin’ ‘em back for over an hour now.”

Has it really been that long? James checks his watch, and yup, it’s half past ten. The paps should be gone from his house by now, but he feels no draw to leave this place. The alcohol has left him pleasantly tipsy and warm, but he’s more drunk on the fantasy that he’s just a normal bloke having a nice night out in a newly-discovered dive bar.

“Fish don’t really drink though, do they? They absorb water through their gills via osmosis,” he replies, and he wants to bite his tongue off because what the fuck was that??

This woman, whatever her name is, doesn’t seem to mind his answer though, because her face scrunches in a giggle. His body is hot and throbbing with more than drink now, and he wants to hear that sound again but his brain has stopped working.

“Is that so different from you absorbin’ alcohol through your bloodstream?” she muses, finishing off whatever is in her short tumbler.

“Can I buy your next round?” he blurts rather than responding to her question, which he’s almost certain was rhetorical.

Her smile melts into something softer, something private and a little shy. “If you’d like.”

“I do.” He flags down the bartender and glances at his new companion expectantly.

“Gin and tonic,” she says. She thanks the bartender, then James when she takes her first sip. “I’m Rose, by the way.”

“James,” he says, feeling stupid because his face is plastered all over London, which likes to boast that it’s the home of international celeb James Noble. But wouldn’t he seem more of an arse if he just assumed this gorgeous woman knew who he was?

Nevertheless, his stomach sinks a bit when she snorts into her drink and says, “I thought it was you.”

“Yup, it’s me,” he forces, his voice flat. He hides his frown with his glass, knocking back the rest of his sidecar like it’s a shot. The room sways slightly with the violent motion of his head, and maybe he’s slightly drunker than he’d thought.

If Rose catches on to his sudden sour mood, she doesn’t mention it. “What brings you here to Bad Wolf?”

He shrugs and blows out a noisy breath. “I dunno. Went for a walk, ended up here.”

“Those are the best sort of adventures.” She hums wistfully. “Sometimes you find what you didn’t know you needed when you let yourself get lost.”

That observation is far too astute for his current state of mind, so instead he says, “Would you like to dance with me?”

Her eyes flicker across his face for a brief moment before she says, “Okay.”

He hops down from his stool, but Rose hesitates, clutching her purse and coat awkwardly. The bartender helpfully tells her to keep them on her stool, and he’ll keep an eye on it. Rose flashes him a grin that James would rather she flash at him, but he realizes that is utterly absurd, so he simply rests his coat on top of her things to better hide them from view. He then holds out his hand for her. Her palm is soft and warm against his as he leads her to the crowded dance floor.

They find space towards the back of the pub, hidden in the shadows of a hallway that states it’s closed off to patrons. And of course, of fucking course, right when he rests his hands on her hips to find the rhythm of the song, a new one comes on, and his own voice belts from the speakers.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters. He loves his music—he made it, after all—but he can’t help but feel pretentious and more than a little silly to dance to it like this.

Rose, however, grins and says, “Oh, come on, this is one of my favorites.”

She catches his hands where he’d loosened them at her waist and forces him to grab hold of her. She’s wearing high-waisted trousers and a top that leaves a sliver of her belly exposed. His thumb grazes the skin of her bare side, and it’s enough to send tingles through his body. Rose, meanwhile, slings her arms around his shoulders and begins to rock her hips from side to side in sync with the bass, embellishing the motions until she looks absolutely ridiculous but so, so beautiful.

He can’t help but grin and laugh, and he mirrors her movements until they’re both dancing like idiots to his music.

“This is how my baby brother dances,” she explains, bouncing up and down while twisting her hips. “We have regular dance parties together.”

“How old’s your brother?” he asks.

“Just turned four.”

He blinks, and blood rushes from his face. “And… and how old are you?”

“A perfectly legal twenty-four,” she drawls, reaching up to flick his nose. “You can start breathing again.”

Thank fuck.

“That’s quite the age gap.”

“My mum got remarried when I was nineteen,” Rose says with a shrug. “She and my stepdad didn’t waste much time.”

“Clearly,” he mutters under his breath.

“It does feel a bit like they’ve started over,” Rose confesses with a too-stiff shrug. “New family, new life, and I’m the interloper.

There is no way this vivacious woman in front of him could ever be considered an interloper, but before he can tell her that, she continues, “Mum does her best to assure me otherwise, but still. It’s hard to watch all the things Mum and Dad are able to do for Tony—that’s my brother, Tony—when Mum struggled so much as a single mum with me.”

“Your dad’s not in the picture?”

A sad smile pinches her face, and he regrets asking.

“No, I never knew him. He died when I was a baby.”

“I… I’m so sorry.” Well, he’s totally buggered this all up, hasn’t he? He wracks his brain on how to salvage the easy banter they’d had at the bar, but draws a blank.

Rose seems to realize they’ve lost the mood, but she breaks out into a lazy grin and says, “Since you seemed so opposed to dancing to your own music, it’ll please you to know a new song’s on. C’mon, show me your moves.”

He’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and so he follows her lead, watching her dance her heart out until her cheeks are pink and her hair is damp with sweat. He’s sure he doesn’t look much better, since he can feel the perspiration beading down his back and beneath his arms, but he can’t bring himself to care. Tonight has been the most fun he’s had in a very long time. Clubbing in New York had been a lark, but he’s been swarmed by his American fans half the night, and had been busy drowning his latest heartbreak to fully enjoy it. But here, now, with Rose, it’s like he’s any other bloke in a pub, chatting up a pretty girl he wants to get to know.

Their bodies are wrapped around each other with the ease and grace of partners who have known each other for years, and he forgets that he has known Rose for all of a few hours. He never wants this night to end. He wants to cling to this fairytale and pretend that the clock isn’t about to strike the proverbial midnight.

But time marches on as always. The clock really does strike midnight, and the bartender begins to clear people out of his establishment. James is as exhausted as he is exhilarated, no longer drunk on booze but rather the company of Rose and the magic they made together by simply dancing the night away.

They head back to the bar to retrieve their coats and her purse, and to close out their tabs. James slides his credit card to the bartender and asks him to charge everyone’s tab to his card. If the bartender is surprised, he hides it well. A few minutes later, James is signing off on the receipt of purchase of several thousand pounds-worth of alcohol. His personal assistant is sure to be confused as hell when she wakes up to see the charge. He fires off a quick warning text to her so she doesn’t open up a fraudulent charge claim.

James salutes the bartender, knowing he’ll come back to this pub as often as he can until he’s found out and this place once again becomes somewhere that’s overrun with his fans.

The night is refreshingly cold when he and Rose emerge into it, a nice change after the stifling, sweaty heat of the bar. However, she hunches her shoulders against the chill, prompting him to wrap his arm around her waist and tug her into his side, all too eager to lend her some of his body heat.

“Can I walk you somewhere?” he asks, glancing around the street that is now full of the drunken patrons who’d been in the pub with them. They all disperse in different directions, stumbling home or to a different bar that is still open. “Or wait with you ‘til you catch a cab?”

“Yeah, sure,” she says, pulling up her phone to order a ride. She taps on the screen for a few quiet moments then says, “Done. Should be here in a few minutes.”

They descend into a slightly awkward silence that James wants to break, but he can’t think of anything clever to say. So he says nothing, and finally headlights wash over them, momentarily blinding them before a taxi pulls up.

“D’you wanna share?” she asks, opening the door to the back seat.

Is she as reluctant to leave him as he is to leave her? Or is she being polite and eco-friendly by ride sharing? Nevertheless, he nods and slides into the back seat beside her.

There is something incredibly intimate about sitting with Rose in the dark interior of the taxi, and he feels like he’s fifteen and wondering how to hold his date’s hand after a cheap night out at the cinemas. He fists his hands together, knotting his fingers until his knuckles pop.

The driver goes to the address Rose provides first, and all too soon they’ve arrived.

“I’ll cover the fare,” he says when she makes to hand over some bank notes to the diver. “It’d be my pleasure.”

She hesitates, but nods, then opens the door to climb out of the car. His pulse quickens as he watches her walk away with nothing but a, “Goodnight.”

“Can you wait just a minute?” he asks the driver.

“Meter’s still runnin’,” he grunts.

“That’s fine.”

James scrambles out of the taxi. “Hey, Rose?”

She turns back to face him, frowning.

“I… er… I had a great time tonight,” he says lamely, but her frown relaxes into a smile. “It was fun. With you. I had fun.”

“Yeah, me too,” she answers.

He licks his lips; his mouth is bone dry and his pulse pounds in his ears, making his vision throb with each frenzied beat.

“Do you… do you maybe wanna do it again some time? Hang out together? I… I’d really like to see you again,” he says, cursing his clumsy, fumbling words.

She scrutinizes him for a long moment, her expression indecipherable. His stomach sinks. Maybe this was a one-off, a story for her to tell her mates.

You’ll never guess who I met at the pub last night. James Noble! He paid for all my drinks and we danced like idiots.

He stews in his misery of doubt, and just when he’s about to tell her to forget about it, she slowly nods.

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

“Really?” he asks, a hopeful edge creeping into his voice.

She laughs. “Really.”

“Brilliant!” James fumbles in his pocket for his phone, and he thrusts it at her. “Give me your number? I’ll text you. Or call.”

He rocks back and forth on his toes and heels, waiting for her to finish up with his phone. He has a sudden, potent bolt of panic that she’s snooping through his private messages or photographs for something to use against him to make a quick profit, but before that panic can take root, she hands his mobile back to him. It’s open to a new texting conversation.

From: 🌹 Bad Wolf Girl 🌹

Now I’ve got your number too 😉

He beams at the name she’s given to herself in his contacts, then he pockets his phone.

“I’ll see you later,” he says.

“You better,” she replies with that knee-weakening smile he’s grown to love over the course of the night. “See ya.”

“Bye.”

He stands there like a moron until she’s safely inside, then he turns back to the taxi and climbs in. The deserted streets streak by as the driver takes him to his neighborhood. He never gives his address though; he always chooses a destination a few streets away, just in case.

James generously tips the driver and bids him goodnight before slipping into the night to his home. He was right: the paparazzi are gone. There is no fanfare as he slips his key into the lock and lets himself into his house. It’s warm and cozy, but still too quiet for his liking.

Between the plane ride and his night out, he feels greasy and disgusting, and indulges in a hot shower before bed. He washes Rose’s scent off of his body, an intoxicating blend of jasmine and vanilla that’s as sweet as it is musky.

He’s groggy by the time he crawls into his giant, king-sized bed and burrows deep into his mounds of pillows and duvets. One of his ex-girlfriends once teased that he turns into the marshmallow man when he sleeps.

His sleep is deep and dreamless, and when he awakes with the sun the following morning, he feels more refreshed and invigorated than he ever remembers being. He’s got a full day of meetings with his songwriting team to brainstorm his next album, and he is ready.

But first, he checks his phone. There’s nothing from Rose, which makes him a little sad, but also nothing from his publicist, which is always a good sign. If ever she messages or calls him first thing in the morning, it always means there’s some sort of dumpster fire to put out. Usually a dumpster fire full of compromising photos of him.

He makes a point of not Googling himself, but he does occasionally check his social media pages for new posts about him, wanting to know when, where, and how his fans came across him in the wild. He easily finds the photo that he took with the group of teenage girls, and makes a point to like the original post and type a quick, “Nice to meet you all. Thanks for chatting with me last night - J” in the comments section. He snorts to himself as his comment blows up within seconds.

But other than some grainy photos of him riding the bus, he can’t find any other photos of himself. Nothing of him wandering the streets or drinking in the pub or even having a wee in the mens’ room. And best of all, there’s nothing of him and Rose. No photos of them dancing together or sharing a cab. If Rose has a social media account, it didn’t post any sneaky photos or bragging stories about dancing all night with James Noble.

He can’t quite believe it; he managed to have a fun night out drinking without it all being thrown back in his face the next morning. Within seconds, he’s grinning to himself and pulling up Rose’s contact information. It’s still in his phone, further proof that his night with her wasn’t some sort of jetlagged fever dream. She was real.

“Good morning. I hope you slept well. Thanks for last night.”

She responds almost instantly. Good morning to you too. I should be thanking you for paying my drink tab and taxi fare 😉 And for being an excellent dance partner.

“The pleasure was all mine, on all counts.” He sends that message, then types out a new one, “I’m gonna be in meetings all day (yes, I know it’s Sunday), so please don’t be discouraged if I don’t reply. But I’d really like to see you again. Want to do dinner or drinks or coffee or something?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, needing to make himself presentable for when his driver picks him up in an hour. Yet he can’t help but check his phone every three seconds, until finally there’s a message from Rose.

Yeah, I’d like that. I work ‘til five most nights, but I’m free after that. Or we can wait ‘til the weekend.

With spirits lighter than they’ve been in months, James steps out of his house with a broad, stupid grin that the ever-present crowd of paparazzi are all too happy to photograph.

[shesawriter39049]

|Breakdown’s & Bugatti’s| M|

PAIRING: Namjoon x Reader (Ft a hint of Tae & Jin)

About- Namjoon just does what he has to do to keep you ....calm while at a charity gala!  

OR:

CHAPTER 1 : MEET THE KIMS OF NEW YORK 

**WARNINGS: **Semi public sex, Fingering (F receiving), Minimal prep, Light dirty talk, Light spit play, Choking, Spanking, Gags (Makeshift), Non protective sex (Creampie), light overstimulation

WC: 7K (This is a sneak peak so it’s 1.2k)

NON SEXUAL WARNINGS: (Fictional political background)  Hints at recreational drug use (Molly) Brief mentions of death, father issues, and panic attacks/anxiety (All of these topics are super minor but again, out of respect I’m mentioning them) 

The remaining “characters” will be introduced at a later date

This chapter hints at various future plots 

This is almost 2 years old, I reworked it recently 

If you’ve been following me for a while this is the original draft for “Club First Royale” 

FINAL NOTE: I haven’t been active in damn hear a year ( 8 months) So I am posting sneak peeks intentionally! No, not to torture you guys lol but to get my blog flowing again because I’m sure people aren’t really checking in anymore

OT7 ALTERNATING STORYLINES

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

FINALLY, fuck 36737 years later you spot your Kim!

Standing there in all his glory, in a Valentino slim fit navy blue suit, the jacket appearing to have some sort of paisley print, opting against a tie. Leaving his crisp white dress shirt slightly unbuttoned, teasing at his broad carnalized chest as he makes his way from the bar. Heading over to the table, which has an empty seat waiting right beside him with your name written all over it...literally!

Purposely dodging the old lady to your left in a coat that would have PETA ready to throw hands! Gaudy diamonds, terrible Botox, and smelled as if she showered in an entire bottle Chanel No. 5! 

Yeah, no, sorry, not in the mood for another meet and greet right now!

“Joonie” Squeals from your lips once you’re in close enough proximity, his dark piercing eyes cut over to meet yours. A playful smirk tugging on those sinfully thick lips of his, accompanied by those disrespectful ass dimples!

“There she is!” Eyes dripping with warmth, as he ushered you in with open arms ,and in these types of situations, Namjoon felt like home, he was your safe space. “You look fuckin good” The words hushed into your hair in a tenor meant for your ears and your ears only! A hint of something a little more than just friendly playing on his tongue. 

A small little “Thank you” leaves your lips, and if I didn't know any better I’d think the compliment made you a little flustered.

Namjoon was the definition of Ocean arm’s and goddamn if you didn't just love how big this man was! It literally felt like he was hiding you from the entire universe when he has you nuzzled into his frame! The whole interaction couldn't have lasted longer than 20 seconds in all actuality but god you needed it! 

Face flush to his chest, wrapping your arms firm around his waist, letting your eyes flutter shut briefly, a deep slow exhale flooded through your body. Inhaling the musky yet sweet scent of his cologne mixed with his natural aroma, which has grown to become a calming mechanism over the years. 

“You had me worried for a minute…” Placing a quick kiss in your hair, that you would have missed if you blinked but again, your in public soo...

Palms soothing up and down your back gently, as he breathed into your hair , pulling back a little so there was some form of personal space between the two of you.  

“Your late, even for you princess...I know you started early, I got your live(Instagram) notification, so what happened?” Head clocked to the side as he appraises you and fuck, the bass in his voice still has you all types of fucked up! Glancing over your shoulder briefly before leaning up to place a kiss on the hinge of his jaw, that tittered the line of passing as an “innocent” greeting. 

“I’m fine Jonnie it’s nothing, we just got held up in glam.., Ariel was flying in from Miami...we got a late start” Gaze intentionally diverted as you welcomed yourself to his glass of Scotch instead. Damn near inhaling the entire drink as we speak and you hated dark liquor so that alone let him know something was up!  

Merely resisting the urge to smooth out the crease he felt forming between his brows, a dry snort left his lips, rolling his eyes in response to your blatant stubbornness. Nevertheless, always the gentleman, reaching down to pull out your chair so you could take a seat next to him. Mirroring your actions just moments prior, quickly scoping out his surroundings before he brought those plush pillows he calls lips a centimeter away from your ear.

Fuck. 

  “Right, so I'm just going to assume you don’t wanna talk about it right now! Or wait I’m sorry, have you just upgraded to insulting my intelligence straight to my damn face?” 

Brow quirked inquisitively, and you could literally feel every word, tone taking on a hint of seriousness the more he talked. Namjoon licked his lips and the tip skimmed the edge of your ear and I - . 

“For one you smell like an entire bottle of Heidsieck, I can almost taste the nicotine on your tongue and you've been crying I know you. ”  

Pulling back just enough to glare down at you above the brim of his glasses, which he always wore low along his bridge. Eyes daring you to look him in the face a lie again, teasing his fingers through his chocolate locks. Styled in the perfect semi grown out undercut, the top a little on the long side, while the sides tapered into a crisp fade. Sideburns outlining that extremely understated jawline of his! Though you had to admit the yellow gold diamonds dawning his ears were kinda stealing the show right now! 

“So again, do you just not wanna talk about it right now? Or have you forgotten that I have an IQ of 137, and can smell bullshit from here all the way to Gangnam!?” 

You're having very vivid day daydreams of your hand wrapped around this man's windpipe and for once it’s not even remotely sexual! 

Blatantly ignoring the strong twitch within Namjoon’s jaw and simply saying “I’m here, aren’t I!?” Face stoic, tone flat as all hell, in case it wasn’t clear that this conversation was more than over, you opted to eye his bourbon glazed salmon until he got the hint.

 “Oh, for fucks sake! ” Hissed from his lips without a lick of heat behind them, because as quiet as it’s kept ,your lowkey Joon’s baby, which is why he cares to begin with! Picking up a piece on his fork before essentially shoving it into your hand ”Your lucky I can’t have your ass getting sick on me tonight, we still have like, 3 hours left of this bullshit.”

More like he just can’t tell you no, but hey, whatever helps him sleep at night! Sliding his plate in your direction, completely giving up on eating at this point, he knew you needed it more anyway! Finally, starting to feel your mix of poisons hit your system so you knew you needed  to even it out with a little substance. I mean yeah, you could have just ordered your own plate but meh, this was easier! 

Namjoon started busying himself on his phone while you ate, scrolling through a couple contacts until he landed on a contact labeled under “Kookie”.

“Even though you were only late because “Your glam team ran late” There were air bunnies involved, and again you just really wanna choke his ass!  “What are you thinking tonight? He’s actually on his way here right now, but he already has a couple options on him...” 

The question was vague and for damn good reason...considering…

However you knew exactly what he was referring too.., and thank god!

Speaking over a mouth full of salmon, sounding utterly exasperated!  “Honestly, any fucking thing at this point…” 

Namjoon hums thoughtfully, sucking on a Bourbon soaked Ice cube “He’ll be here in 20, I just went with Smartees…always a safe bet...” 

Smartees, candy, Vitamin -E, Molly... Estcasy...it’s all one and the same, just depends on who you ask!

He leans back in, apparently keen on whispering tonight. “Maybe, if your a good girl and eat enough we can split one before we leave...chill you out a little bit. '' Voice thick and heady, lips curling into a grin with a hint of something wicked playing on the ends, as his fingers idly ghost over your forearm. Giving it a light squeeze and regardless of how innocent the skin-ship may seem to the naked eye, you’re well aware of all the underlying innuendos behind it! 

You make a noise of agreement, trying your damnedest to ignore the slight chill coursing up your spine at the pet name. Though before you could even dwell, Namjoon was sliding back in with another update, this one however wasn't as...arousing…to say the least!

“Fox 2’s been waiting for you to get here by the way...since the event was put together by council and all. They've been wanting to talk to us together about the fundraiser, just the same shit as last year.” 

Waving his hand dismissively idly twirling the various pieces of Bvlgari around his fingers, seemingly un-phased while you on the other hand...release the most exasperated huff! Reclining against your seat, eyes rolling to the back of your head in 30 different directions! Yeah, It comes with the territory, you know this, hints Namjoons reaction, or lack thereof!  But fuck you just really weren’t in the mood to do press tonight, It’s literally physically exhausting to pretend that you weren’t just PISSED! 

“Of -fuckin- course they do!” Stabbing your mashed potatoes in a way that's... somewhat concerning… 

“Baby.” It was a warning, though his voice sat barley above a whisper, his tone was crystal! Eyes cutting in your direction briefly before dropping back down to his phone….

You didn't have it in you to argue, there’s no way around this anyway, fuck it!  “What -the-fuck-ever!” Sliding the half empty plate aside “Well, you wanna just get it out of the way now? Because I’m really not in the mood for-”

“Y/n..oh my god! Hi, honey how are you!? You look beautiful as always…” Suddenly there was a human, a human wearing the wrong shade of foundation kissing your cheek. A human by the name of Caroline, one of the local news anchors...clearly her damn ears were ringing.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys, that’s all she wrote, well kinda, actually she finished it like 16 months ago lol but that’s all she wrote for now I guess....

**_

_****Love you...see ya soon!!**

***SIDE NOTE, MY FRIEND MADE THE TWITTER EDIT SO DON’T ASK LOL IDK ****

UPDATE: HEADCANONS FOR THE KIM BOYS/OC

  HEADCANONS

[havin-a-wee]

Stars Align

pairing: harry styles x y/n

warnings: fluff, ig you could consider it angst but its really just mysterious

word count: 2k

hello! i apologize for kind of disappearing, my fic rec account has kind of blown up and ive been super busy with that.

this is my entry for @sweetlygolden 's Harry On Holiday Challenge! i chose strangers in the same city, and the line prompt “That is the worst sunburn I’ve ever seen.” i honestly already have a part 2 planned out but we'll see how it goes!

“How much longer are you going to stare at that pretending like it’s interesting.”

Her soft voice surprised him, and he whipped his head around to see who had been speaking to him.

For the first time in a while, Harry was able to get away for a little. Of course, he travels a lot for work, but this was the first vacation since he can remember where he was alone, doing whatever he pleases. He chose Italy for this special occasion, because it’s always been one of his favorite places, and he missed the freedom of wandering around the boot shaped country without a care in the world.

The day's adventures had brought him to La Galleria Nazionale d’Arte Moderna e Contemporanea, which is a museum that he's been wanting to see for quite some time. He started the day off by getting a cappuccino and a crespelle from a wonderful little cafe down the street from his hotel.

Right afterwards he walked to the museum, taking in the sights around him on the 20 minute trek to his destination. Before the woman behind him snatched his attention, he was staring at a painting of an abstract house. The house was only painted in blue, and the artist had used the different shades and tones of the color to create the details in the painting.

He had been staring at it for a good amount of time, which he assumed is what prompted the stranger to talk to him.

It’s his 3rd day on the trip, leaving him 4 more until he has to be back in L.A. for work. He has no plans, no schedules, no job to do. It’s just him and the world. At least, that’s what he assumed it would be. The vacation is supposed to be a solo one, however, he’s currently staring at a stranger that decided to speak to him. And for some reason, he is drawn to her. Compelled to spend time with her after just a simple sentence was spoken between the two of them.

When he fully turns around she jumped, a bit startled by his bright red complexion. “That is the worst sunburn I have ever seen!”

It was true, Harry had managed to get himself a nasty burn on the first day in Italy. He usually tans instead of getting a sunburn, but when you’re used to the dreary weather of the UK, it can be hard to forget how strong the sun is in other places.

So he had laid out on the beach and fell asleep, waking up a few hours later with tomato red skin and a burning sensation covering the exposed skin.

“That’s what happens when y’fall asleep on a beach in Rome,” he chuckled, smiling awkwardly at the woman before him.

She’s beautiful, there is absolutely no denying that. She was wearing a simple spaghetti-strap black dress that cut off right at the knee. There were no designs, no embellishments, just a black dress that hugged her figure perfectly. Her lips have a deep red lipstick smeared across them, and he couldn’t help but notice how the color complimented her skin tone. Her simple black pumps completed the outfit, and her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, with a few of the front strands falling out of the hair tie and framing her face.

“I’d assume so.” Her demeanor is serious, even though there's a smile on her face. She’s…..intimidating?

Harry hasn’t been intimidated by anything since he was a teenager. Once you perform in front of thousands of screaming people, who also happen to idolize you, things don’t tend to phase a person anymore.

But for some reason, her presence caused butterflies to fly around in his stomach, a feeling he hasn’t felt in a long time. He actually enjoyed the feeling, it reminded him of when everything was normal.

What also reminded him of normality was the fact that she seems to not have the slightest clue of who he is. If she does, she’s sure as hell good at hiding it.

“You’ve been looking at the same painting for 10 minutes, just wanted to make sure you hadn’t fallen asleep.” A small laugh escaped her lips, and the noise agitated the fluttering butterflies residing in his tummy. Her voice is mesmerizing, and she sounds like what Harry imagines an angel to sound like. She has an American accent, and it eased his nerves slightly that she was also a tourist.

He turned back to the painting to look at it, but it was also convenient in that she wouldn’t be able to see his undoubtedly flushed cheeks.

“Yeah m’not sure what it is ‘bout it but there’s somethin’ special with this one.”

“That’s Prismi lunari by Fortunato Depero, he was very talented.” Harry spun around once again to face her, shocked at her knowledge of the random artwork.

“You know that off of the top of your head?” He tilts his head and looks at her, furrowing his brows in confusion. He’s pretty sure there was no label for the painting, and if there was it was way too small for her to see from where she’s standing.

“I know a lot of things.”

The statement was simple, but Harry wondered if her words paired with the smirk on her face are code for something else. “How long have you been here?” Her question snapped him out of his thoughts, and he looked up at her and smiled. He flicks his wrist and directs his attention to it, reading the Gucci watch adorning his wrist.

“Well I got here at 11, so about 5 hours.” It honestly surprised him when he realized it was 4 o’clock, but he knows how wrapped up he gets in artwork so he must have lost track of time.

“Jesus christ! I can barely stand to walk around a museum for an hour!” She blows out a puff of air, mocking being out of breath. They both laugh at her comment, Harry laughing a bit harder than her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh! M’Harry, s’nice to meet you.” He stuck out his ring-clad hand, and her delicate fingers wrapped around his as she shook it.

“Well Harry, wanna get out of here and walk around with someone who knows the city?” She points at herself, and the small smile she gave him earlier transformed into a silly grin.

“Well m’not sure how well an American can know the city, but I’ll bite.” Usually he would never do this. Going off with strangers is never a good idea, especially because of his status. But there’s something about the girl that makes Harry feel safe. They had just met yet he feels like he could trust her with things he hasn’t even told his best friends.

“An American who’s been living here for a year, that is.” His eyebrows raise slightly, intrigued by her new admission. But before he can even open his mouth to speak, she grabs his wrist with her daintily manicured hand and whisks him out of the quiet museum.

The air was humid, quickly drawing beads of sweat from his forehead. He’s also quite baffled at how she was completely unphased. Not a single drop of sweat was dripping on her body, her soft skin untouched like an old porcelain doll, preserved for years in perfect condition.

“I’ll show you around a little, we can go to this wonderful little vintage store I know.” She had turned to face him, her hand moving from his wrist to cup his one hand in both of hers. “Um- at least, if you want to.” For the first time, she was nervous. Although she will never admit it, Harry makes her extremely nervous. Extremely.

When he turned around when they first met, her jump of surprise wasn’t just because of his bright sunburn. In fact, it wasn’t about that at all. It was about how fucking attractive he is. He really looks like one of the statues that was put up in the museum. His sparkling green eyes send a shiver down her spine, and the tattoos peaking through his thin white t-shirt cause a fire to build in her stomach.

Having someone to talk too while he traversed the streets of Rome is a lot more enjoyable than Harry had anticipated. He purposefully told all of his friends that he was going to be MIA while on this trip. But the fact that she is a stranger changes it in some way, in a good way.

The cobblestone streets are surprisingly smooth, and they walk next to each other in a comfortable silence for a long amount of time. The silence would only break when she would point out something in their field of vision. At one point, Harry pauses, standing still in the middle of the street with a thinking look on his face. He realizes that he doesn’t know her name, which seems ridiculous to him because they were walking around a foreign country like the best of friends. She turns to him, matching his confused look when they lock eyes. “I just realized I don’t know y’name.”

Instead of reacting like he would expect one to react when asked that question, her pupils dilated and for some reason she appears to be scared. Why would someone be scared when you ask for their name?

‘Maybe she thinks her name is embarrassing’ Harry thought, still looking at her with a confused look, but now it was laced with a bit of suspicion.

He watches her sigh, and her hand went up to her ponytail and pulled the black elastic out, her soft hair cascading down her shoulders. With another sigh she said, “Y/N. My names Y/N.”

“That’s a really beautiful name.”

“Oh! There’s the store!”

He found it odd that she was so eager to switch the subject, but goes along with it nonetheless.

The vintage store is lovely, and Harry was able to find a beautiful ring and necklace set, matching gold roses on both of them. They looked around the shop for about 15 minutes, Harry being the only one to make a purchase.

The sun had set by the time they went outside, which isn’t surprising considering that it was almost dark when they walked into the little shop. They stood, facing each other outside of this small little shop in Rome. Two strangers, who just happened to cross each other's path. Harry knows this won’t last forever, and he also knows that he wants to see her again. In a leap of faith, he pulls the gold necklace out of the small brown bag and looks up at her.

“Here, I got them so we could match.” It was bold, but Harry feels connected to this girl, and he doesn’t know it, but she feels the exact same. The smile she gave him when he handed her the necklace was bright and genuine, the creases next to her eyes proving its authenticity. He motioned for her to turn around, wrapping the necklace around her neck and clasping it while she held up her hair.

“Thank you Harry. This is the best day I’ve had in a while.”

“Likewise.”

“I hate to do this, but I have to go. Have a wonderful rest of your trip Harry.”

It was then that she placed a small, tender peck on his lips, barely lingering for a second before pulling away.

“Wait! Can I get y’number?” Her smile slanted into a smirk, and she pulled a small card and a pen out of her small black clutch. She placed the card up against the brick wall, leaning it against it and scribbling something down on the paper. When she finished writing, she pressed her lips against the card, handing it to Harry.

He looked down at it, expecting to see a series of numbers, but he was met with a simple note, scribbled on the piece of cardstock next to the red lip print she had left.

May the stars align in our favor once again. - Y/N

He looked up frantically, planning to ask her to write her number down as well, but he was met with nothing.

She had disappeared into the night, leaving as quickly as she appeared earlier that day.

[nocturnaldivinationsfallingstars]

A Stray Bullet Part 5

Fandom: Gotham Characters: Victor Zsasz, female!reader, James Gordon. Warnings: Swearing, mentions of someone dying in a car accident.  Summary: The reader is James Gordon’s sister and works for the GCPD and is dating Victor Zsasz. The reader has kept it a secret from her brother, until one day when she takes a bullet that was meant for him. Victor then shows up at James’ place to see the reader. Word count: 3689 A/N: I had to re-work the ending to this part as I added new parts to it.

Shifting your weight from one foot to the other a couple of times to relieve the pain you were starting to feel from having been standing for far longer than your body wanted you to be, your head hung low with your eyes cast to the dark wooden floor. You were staring at a spot where a shard of glass had slipped between the grooves of two bits of wood, finding it interesting all of a sudden. Balling your hands into fists by your side and then relaxed them, wiggling the stiffness from your fingers to expel the tension. You thought about all the ways you could possibly answer his persistent questioning on the subject. You could always tell him the unbridled truth about your relationship with Victor, of course, you’d omit more than a few private details about the matter. But realistically, what good would telling him the complete truth really do? Apart from causing an explosive argument to break out between the two of you, and even then he’d insert himself more forcibly into your personal affairs.

James hadn't always been that way, he used to give you some semblance of privacy when growing up. In fact, he had only been this way since your father had been killed in the car accident with a drunk driver a good few years ago now. Inserting himself into your life whenever something dangerous came along, becoming overprotective and doing whatever he could to make sure you're safe. When he became a detective at the GCPD it only seemed to amplify his need to keep you safe, and while it was sweet knowing that your brother is always going to be there, you felt as if it was a bit too much.

And well, Victor Zsasz just so happened to be 'something dangerous'. James' reaction to you dating the famed hitman that quite literally shot you would set off a rather volatile reaction. There was no way for you to predict how he would act. Not to mention he had a temper that needed to be kept in check, which he was doing so well with.

This meant James needed to know all about it, right? So he doesn't lose his temper? He should know, he's your brother after all and not to mention you usually told him everything. The good and the bad, well to an extent. This was different, more personal and gave way to more chances for James to lash out at you or Victor or both. It wasn't as if you could keep putting it off, since he'd find out about it sooner or later. Later would be a huge mess, however, telling him sooner could be just as bad. Perhaps you could settle on telling him half-truths? It wouldn't make him angry if you let some details slip while keeping the key ones close to your chest.

The most difficult part was trying to mentally convince yourself to do it. To tell him the truth, no matter how angry he is going to be about you keeping it a secret. Or at the very least to give him something small to go off of, anything at all to keep him from questioning you further. The choice was hard to make, but it needed to be made, and you were the only one who could make it.

With a firm nod of your head at your decision to tell him half-truths, your tongue shot out between your lips as you tilted your head to the side and finally managed to tear your gaze away from the glass shard between the floorboards and over to the couch where James currently resided. His arms crossed over his chest still, tapping away at his upper arms with his fingers impatiently, waiting for you to answer. You could tell he wanted to ask again and if you didn't give an answer he was going to be displeased with you.

"Okay," you breathed out to calm yourself, flexing your hands once more. "Grace was right, I am dating someone." You begrudgingly admitted in the hopes that the thick and heavy tension that fell around you and James like a thick blanket of smoke within the last couple of minutes would clear, and give way to something that would make breathing feel less like a chore than it seemed to feel like in this very moment. 

Finally, admitting your secret to your brother seemed to make little to no difference, if anything it felt as if the tension had got far worse between you and James. It felt it coiled around your chest like a boa constrictor choking out its prey, making it exceptionally hard for you to breathe. You felt the full weight of your anticipation towards his reaction resting heavily on your shoulders, making you feel like it was getting harder to breathe.

You were hoping to blame the sudden feeling of weakness that began to wash over you on the fact that you've been shot twice and not on the fact that you've started to really worry. Your fingers curled and uncurled multiple times at your side, then pressed the palms of your hands against your thighs and stared at him. Waiting, watching for any hint of surprise, annoyance, anger, just anything to show you what he’s feeling.

"You're dating someone?" he asked, his gruff voice gaining your attention before you could allow your mind to wander. There were no underlying negative emotions as he spoke to you, still the tension remained and was in no way alleviated. In fact, it felt far more stifling now than moments ago when you admitted your secret aloud.

"Yes, I am." you answered in a low voice that's barely above a whisper. A single nod was all you could manage, taking a slow and small step backwards so that the back of your legs hit the soft cushions of the couch behind you. You automatically sat down as soon as you felt them, your hands going to your hap where you intertwined your fingers and rubbed your left thumb with the pad of your right nervously.

You averted your gaze, there was no way you could bring yourself to look at him. Not only that, but you could sense the disappointment dripping in his voice and radiating off of him, he tried his best to hide it, but you could still sense it. "Who is it?" he demanded, his voice raising even though he tried to fight the anger that boiled in his veins. Out of the corner of your eyes, you could see his knuckles starting to turn pale from how hard he's gripping at the fabric of his jacket.

Oh, how you regretted the words that came from your mouth.

A grim look darkened the features of your brother, who is very obviously irked about all the secrecy already. "Who is it?" The sound of his right foot tapping against the floor sent a shiver of worry down your spine as soon as you heard it. Somehow you missed the rapid movement of his leg bouncing up and down anxiously until now, and for a brief moment you allowed yourself to wonder about how you missed such a simple yet very noticeable action. However, that thought was soon dragged away from you when your brother grunted, thoughtful about his next words. "How long have you two been dating?" You could tell his anger was burning just beneath the surface of his skin, itching to get out, wanting to be known, but he had control over it. For now.

"A few months now," you had hoped that you'd never get to witness his full anger in your lifetime. However, you were clearly heading southbound to face it head on and be on the receiving end of it, none of which gave you much comfort right now. "I also can't tell you his name." You felt like you had been put under a microscope, almost as if all of your expressions, movements, etc, were being analysed for any hints of a lie. 

James sat next to you quietly and rubbed his wrist with his hand a couple of times before yet another grunt escaped from his throat, he pushed his jacket aside with his hands and then placed them on his hips. He pushed himself up from his place on the couch, "A few months?" He moved to stand in front of you, pausing a mere couple of seconds with his back facing you before he turned sharply with a burning gaze that made your skin crawl as the invisible flames licked at your flesh violently.

"Well, actually, if you want me to be more accurate, it is more like eight months." You corrected sheepishly, ducking your head and raising your shoulders to your ears, suddenly feeling vulnerable.

"Eight? Eight fucking months?" He said slowly to get his mind around the news. You nodded your head in response and sucked your lower lip between your front teeth. You didn't know if you should say something or not, so you settled for keeping your mouth shut. "Jesus - fucking - Christ, you've not only been dating someone for eight whole months without even so much as a word about it to me. But you can't even tell me his damn name." James ran his hands through his short brown hair, "or is it because you won't tell me? Hmm? Can't or won't tell me?" He said in an accusatory tone and extended his arm out in front of himself, pointing a large index finger at you. "Because I have got to admit; it doesn't feel like you're being entirely honest with me [Y/N]." With a puff of air, you pressed your lips together into a thin line. Finally, managing to gather the courage to look him in the eyes. You still can't bring yourself to tell him who you're dating, but at least you told him you're dating someone.

You reached up and slapped his hand from your face, "I won't tell you." You growled out through gritted teeth.

“Okay, fine,” he huffed out angrily and threw his hands in the air. “Keep being stubborn.

Rolling your eyes, you shifted your body to stretch out along the couch now that it was free. Your side and shoulder throbbed, the phantom pain of the bullets tearing through you made you shiver involuntarily, "Jim, I know you want to know who it is, but I do need some privacy in my life you know." You shot back, suddenly feeling less scared about his underlying anger issues.

"Okay, I get that. But what if they're dangerous? What then?"

You stared up at him, mulling the question over and hummed, "he could very well be dangerous." He shook his head in disbelief to your answer, you answered so calmly, like it was a normal day-to-day thing to talk about. You continued to stare up at him, jutting your lower lip out into a pout, and nodded your head in acknowledgement to his question. It wasn't like you were fully admitting that Victor was dangerous, however you received a dark look from your brother which made you choke back a small laugh of amusement at his attitude towards the whole thing.

“Can you stop joking around for one damn minute?!” James snapped at you out of frustration for the second time that day. “This is a serious discussion. 

There was no way you would joke about something like that when you told him that your boyfriend could be dangerous. After all, you knew very well that he was, but you found it exciting and hot. Not that you would admit that very personal fact to your brother, or Grace for that matter. You didn't want to deal with them judging you. "I wasn't joking when I said that, Jim. I was simply saying that knowing could be dangerous." You shrugged and paused, tilting your head to the side as the gears in your mind started to turn as you tried to think of something that would reassure your only surviving family. This time, however, your voice came out much quieter than before. "I can handle myself. Nothing bad will happen to me while I am with him.”

"Right," he murmured unconvincingly, his dark eyes drawn to the bloodied bandages wrapped around your shoulder and side, just peeking out from under the black fabric of your clean shirt. "And that's why you're here," he gestured your way, "because you can take care of yourself. Okay, yeah. Sure." It was clear that the way you held yourself, like a bird nursing a broken wing, did very little to convince him that you could take care of yourself. He didn't even need to say that you could barely walk and take care of yourself right now aloud, his unspoken point hung in the air between the two of you like an axe pendulum swinging violently ready to hit someone.

James waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the conversation and blew a heavy breath of air from his lungs. "Just get some rest, we will talk about this in the morning. And you better give me answers."

"That was my plan," you yawned out. You felt exhaustion once again wrap its arms around you tightly. A small noise of satisfaction escaped your lips as you stretched your legs out in front of yourself, relieving the stiffness you felt in your joins. "You're not dad, Jim," keeping your tired dull eyes on your brother who turned his back on you and rolled his shoulders as he went to leave the living room with a quiet grumble about something you couldn't quite catch.

He had only just stepped foot out of the large living room when the loud generic ringtone of your phone rang out through the room, causing your breath to catch in your throat. "Who the hell is that?" James spun back around and stood in the alcove, his eyes scanning the room quickly for the locations of the sound. He most likely thought that he had dropped his phone in all the commotion from earlier, or perhaps Barbara had left hers here. You were hoping he didn't think it was yours and that he'd leave it and go straight to his room.

Your eyes darted towards your neatly folded trousers resting atop your boots and then back to your brother who followed your gaze with his eyes the next time you looked back over to where your phone lay. "[Y/N], who is that?" He repeated the question, taking a large step back into the room.

"That's Grace calling." you squeaked out. Of course, you were lying, Grace rarely called outside work hours. That was, unless it had to do with something important, like your case. You knew exactly who was calling you, and your brother apparently picked up on the lie as soon as it tumbled past your lips. He's always been good at picking up on your likes, and it was infuriating to say the least. The rise of your voice did nothing to make the lie any more believable to your brother’s ears.

"Is it him calling?" The question itself didn't give off the vibe of something you should be answering; it may as well be a rhetorical question since he already knows the answer. He was smart enough that he didn't need you telling him something he already knew. Instead, you chose to shake your head quickly, shooting up into a sitting where you instantly leaned forwards as if you're getting ready to race him to where your phone continued ringing kept coming from. Much like you and James would do while growing up and one of you wanted to use the landline before the other. His eyes narrowed at you as he watched the sudden shift in your body language.

You sat rigid on the edge of the couch cushion. Of course, it had to be Victor calling you, and now James knew that it's someone important to you. He rapidly closed the distance between himself and the location of your phone. Just as he swept your trousers up in his hands and started to search them, you lunged forward, and he turned his back on you, making you collide with his back. He pulled the phone out of the front pocket, but as soon as he did it stopped making a noise. James's brows raised as he looked down at the small square that lit up for the longest moment before it dimmed and went black.

"For the love of god, Jim! Can I please have my phone back?!" You sprang away from him and teetered back a couple of meters. You hoped to hell he would pass the phone back to you before Victor called again, which he would do since you didn't answer the first time around, and he must be worried about you after what happened at the GCPD. "Please?!" You clasped your hands together in front of yourself in a pleading gesture as he turned to you, phone in hand.

“It is him, right?” James asked again, at this point you were getting tired of the repetitive questions. He pressed you for an answer because deep down he knew he was right.

"Yes. It is him." You answered curtly through gritted teeth. Your fingertips and nails pressed into the skin of your knuckles so hard it was beginning to hurt and put strain on your fingers.

A playful smirk made its way onto James's lips as his eyes darted down to the small screen on the front of your phone, the screen still black since last time. "Does he call you every night?" He hooked the corner of his thumb under the lip of the phone and flipped it open with ease to reveal the screen, which cast a white and blue hue of light over his face. His thumb hovered over the buttons that are far too small for his giant man thumbs, returning his curiosity filled eyes back to you.

"No." An obvious lie. “He doesn’t call me every night.” Another blatant lie.

Humming thoughtfully, he pressed the dark grey button in the middle of a small cluster of buttons to bring up the other options on your phone. His eyes darting back and forth between you and your phone as he pressed the smaller arrow keys surrounding the grey button until he landed upon the call log. "Jim!" You snapped at him, tearing your hands apart to reach out and snatch your phone from his grasp, but he pulled his hand away with a click of his tongue.

"I am not doing anything," he teased, the smirk on his face only growing wider with the way you're acting, like it amuses him. You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, stamping your foot on the floor like a child being told they couldn't have any more candy before going to bed.

"Relax, I am just playing with you." He sighed out and was about to press one of the buttons when the small black phone in his hand buzzed to life, the screen lighting up and garnering his attention again. The words 'V calling...' displayed on the screen. "Hello?" James shot you a questioning look as he pressed the green button alight on the keypad without hesitation, picking up in mere seconds of the melody starting up. "Hello?" He asked again, pulling the phone away from his ear and looking at the small object in confusion.

Reaching out again, you took advantage of him being distracted and took your phone away from him. "Stop being a fucking jerk, Jim!" yelling angrily at him as you slammed the phone closed to end the call. You could only imagine the look on Victor’s face when your brother answered instead of you. James held his hands up, his brows furrowing.

"Your friend or boyfriend didn't even answer." He told you, lowering his hands as you stood there glaring at him. "And who is V?" You rolled your eyes, curling your fingers around the casing of your phone, holding it to your protectively.

"He didn't answer because you answered my phone and not me." You said defensively, "and it’s honestly none of your damn business who 'V' is! You need to stop acting like dad and more like my fucking brother. Not only that, but you need to let me have my own damn life!" That came out sounding a lot harsher than you intended it to, so you slapped your free hand over your mouth in a failed attempt to keep the words in. Obviously it was too late, and the damage was already done. You stared at him with wide, worry-filled eyes. 

James nodded and took a step back to give you some space, an apologetic look on his face. "I am just concerned about you. And I am trying to keep the only family I have left safe and alive." With that he turned and walked away, leaving you standing in the middle of the living room with your hand over your mouth staring after him. You only dropped your hand from your mouth when you heard the click of the light switch and the light went out throughout the apartment. "Just get some sleep," he called back to you before slamming the door to his room shut.

Shuffling backwards while being as careful as you could be as to not step on the remnants of glass scattered across the floor, you sat back down on the soft couch cushions and leaned back. Your eyes adjusted to the surrounding darkness, you could almost make out a few shapes here and there, a couple of shadows as well.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered out after him. You pulled the scratchy grey blanket from the back of the couch and over your shoulder, covering your lap with it. You felt bad for what you said to him, you didn’t mean to sound so harsh when you said it.

Tag list; @sunlitwritings​, @nheirei, @the-ramblings, @milly-louise

[itscalledreadingdarling]

No One Survives A Night In The Maze - Newt Imagine

The lines seperate points of view, though it doesn’t mention who (you should be able to figure that part out yourself :)

*Differs from both books and movies

~

No one survives a night in the maze.

It was the first thing I was told when I entered the glade.

It’s the only thing I can hear apart from my feet coming down on the concrete floor and my heavy breathing.

I stayed out to late.

I wasn’t paying attention.

For this I will die.

There is a sharp corner that I manage to turn smoothly and take off, knowing where I am now.

I am close to the doors.

I must get there before they close.

I have to succeed or I will die.

A large boom echos through the maze and a large gust of wind flows past me.

The doors are closing.

I have run out of time.

I will die.

It is over the screeching of the doors that I hear yelling.

And when I turn the last corner I see its source.

The other gladers have spotted me.

They know I will die if I don’t make it to them.

I must make it to them.

I full out sprint, pooling every last bit of energy I have into this last distance.

As I get closer I can see their faces more clearly.

Chuck, screaming at me so much the his face has gone red.

Gally, who is telling me to push harder, run faster.

Minho who is yelling at me to move my ass, I’m not dying on his watch.

Thomas, the greenie, looking concerned, and I can tell by the look in his eyes that he wants to run into the maze, to help me. It’s the same move I tried to make when I was a greenie. When someone else was in my situation.

They didn’t make it.

I need too.

It’s Newt’s face that I focus on though. He isn’t screaming at me. He looks calm. It is because of this that I instantly know he isn’t.

He wants to run to me.

He has his limp.

We would both die.

He would tell me that it would be for the best, going together rather than separately.

He is scared.

He can’t show it.

As second in command he must be put together, just as Alby is next to him.

He is going to cry.

I can tell by the way his jaw is clenched, the way his shifts is weight from foot to foot - not favoring his good one like normal. I can tell by the way his stare at me is unwavering. The way he runs his fingers over his lips, like he always does when stressed.

In these last moments I find myself wondering why I know this.

I’ve never seen Newt cry.

It’s the fact that I know he will, that scares me.

Perhaps even more than being stuck in here overnight.

I push harder, until I cant feel my legs.

It’s not enough.

I see the doors shut.

I feel their boom.

It goes silent.

I am dead.

———

The girl does not see it but all the gladers have gone quiet.

Chuck doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t want to. He stares as the rest walk away.

Gally never cared much. But he did for her. She understood him. She was his friend. She is dead now.

Minho knows there is no survival in the maze, just as everyone else does. As much as he believes in the girl, as many races as she has beaten him in, he knows she will not be fast enough. No one ever is.

Thomas has heard what the gladers have told him, over and over. No one survives a night in the maze. But he holds hope. She will survive. She has too.

But mainly, they worry for Newt. There is no worry to spare for the girl, she is as good as dead. But Newt. Newt is alive. And she will not be.

They know that will break him.

Newts chest heaves.

Everyone knows how much the girl means to him.

No matter how much he has told them that they are just ‘best friends’ they all know he cares for her more than that.

They look to the second in command.

They pity him. The girl will never know how Newt felt about her. They don’t know how it feels, but they still sympathize.

It is only Minho who knows how Newt got his limp.

They never told anyone, and Newt said not to worry, that he wouldn’t try again, but still Minho watches over him.

His friend was empty.

He wasn’t like that anymore, not since she arrived.

For the first time it wasn’t just about making it through every day for him.

It was about living.

Something he hadn’t done in forever.

It looks as though Newt has died rather than her.

Minho knows that this is likely possible.

Newt has lost his life.

Minho knows Newt will make sure he won’t fail the next time he try’s.

Minho will do his best. He don’t know if it will be enough.

Newt turns away.

And when he walks away, the others follow.

If Newt has given up, there is no hope for the girl.

None at all.

———

I have failed.

I will be dead by morning.

I belong to the maze now.

But because I am human, I have a natural instinct to survive.

To try my best even though there is no hope.

This instinct tells me to run.

So I run.

It is not long before my breath gets heavy once more.

I was running all day. Now I will be running all night.

If I pass out from exhaustion, maybe death will come more painlessly.

It isn’t long before I hear the first griever.

The metallic whirrs send chills down my spine. I know that if I make it out alive, this moment will haunt me.

I pause to evaluate. I don’t see the grevier but I hear it coming closer.

Its too late when I realize it’s above me.

Jumping down, it pins me and I have nowhere to move.

I scream.

It’s painful. It holds fear and terror and in some way, it’s my final words.

My journey ends here.

———

No one returns to work in the glade.

No one wants to carve her name off of the wall.

No one is brave enough.

But they must.

Alby doesn’t make them go back to work.

He liked the girl. She was kind, hardworking, and made people laugh.

He morns for her.

It is Gally who scratches her name off the wall.

Gally is halfway through when Thomas speaks up.

“What if she survives?”

It’s as if the universe has some terrible, divine timing, for at that moment the girl’s scream pierces through the air.

It is a scream of death.

Gally continues scratching.

———

My throat hurts because I screamed.

By stomach hurts because I was clawed by a griever.

My lungs hurt because I have been running for too long.

My legs ache.

My head pounds.

And yet my heart beats. And for that I am grateful.

I don’t know how I am alive.

It all happened to quickly.

But I got out from under the griever.

I run still, because that same griever is still chasing me.

I run because I forgot one crucial element.

At night, the maze changes.

I feel I am doomed.

Instead, I use it.

Walls move, and sections change and I maneuver - loosing griever after griever.

Killing, griever after griever.

5 of them are dead when the sun peaks through.

I should be overrun with joy.

I have made it through the night.

Instead I collapse on the ground next to my newest kill.

I have ran too long.

I have lost to much blood.

I am alive.

But I feel I won’t be for long.

———

No one can find Newt when the sun peaks through.

No one would normally wake up this early.

No has had to.

No one has slept.

Death was no stranger to the glade.

There were dark days, in the beginning. There were banishments. And there were those who had gotten trapped overnight in the maze.

Yet somehow, this one hit harder.

It was strange, having a girl come up in the box.

Different.

Confusing.

But she had quickly proved herself, fitting right in with the glade, becoming one of the strongest.

If they were not friends with her they held high respect for her, as they did with Alby, and as they did with Newt.

She brought laughter to the glade.

All traces of said laughter was gone.

And no one could find Newt.

———

I had laid one whole hour.

I had expected death to come, take me into it’s cold hands. My destiny was sealed the moment the doors closed, locking me in the maze.

No one survives a night in the maze.

Yet I seem to have stayed alive through it all.

And all I feel is the cold concrete on my skin, the sting of my injury, and the ache in both my lungs and my legs.

I am tired, yes, but I am not dead.

I have done it.

I imagine what it will be like when I walk through the maze doors when they open.

They will all be there, lined up and they will all cheer for me. We will all hug and I will get asked millions of questions. The night will be worth surviving.

I look at my watch again.

The doors will open soon.

I want to be there when they do.

I pick myself up, wincing as I do, but standing none the less, and break out into a run.

This time I do not run for fear of life, but rather for the sake and hope of returning.

The feeling brings a new kind of energy into my body, and I pick up my pace.

I have survived a night in the maze.

I have done the impossible.

———

The doors open.

No one looks at them.

No one wants to work.

Alby makes them.

“We cannot survive if we don’t do our jobs.” He says.

There are no more runners left. Only Thomas and Minho remain. The rest have quit.

The two know they should go out.

They don’t.

Alby looks mad about it.

Neither care.

Alby understands.

Chuck runs up to the maze entrance and waits.

No one has the heart to tell him that she will not be coming through that door.

30 minutes later Thomas joins Chuck.

They sit side by side.

They know it’s hopeless.

They still wait.

No one can find Newt.

———

I have not memorized the way I ran.

It takes me longer to get back then I had thought.

It has been 47 minutes since the doors opened for the morning when I turn a familiar sharp corner.

It’s been 48 when I see these doors, open wide.

I pause.

There are only two figures sitting by the maze door.

I already know who they are.

“CHUCK!” I call out. “THOMAS!”

I can hear the pure relief in my voice, and I can see them look up and I will forever remember the way their faces light up.

Thomas gets to me first, running straight at me, and picking me up, spinning me around. Chuck arrives right after Thomas sets me down, giving me a big hug of his own.

It is then I realize I am crying. For my survival, for my pain, and for my joy.

“GUYS SHE DID IT. SHES ALIVE!”

Chuck runs around the glade screaming at everyone that I have made it.

And just as I suspected there are hugs and so many questions.

But there is no Newt.

I tell them there are 5 dead grievers, that I used the changing walls to kill them. I tell them about my injury, Cliff and Jeff immediately patching me up. I answer each and every question. I never ask any of my own.

I only have one anyway.

And when I do ask, I get silence and the sharing of looks between gladers.

“We can’t find him.”

———

I am mad at myself.

For failing.

I was stupid enough to get caught up in the ivy.

If I had succeeded I wouldn’t have my limp.

If I had succeeded I wouldn’t have met her.

If I had succeeded I wouldn’t feel so useless, standing by and watching the door close.

If I had succeeded I wouldn’t have had to hear her scream.

If I had succeeded I wouldn’t have to live with her death.

I feel dead.

I want to die.

And that’s the truth.

No one will find me.

And when they do,

They won’t find me alive.

———

I find him right away.

It was a spot I had found when I had just come up in the box.

There were too many eyes, too many boys, too much confusion.

I needed quiet to think.

So I found a small clearing, hidden by an unusually placed willow tree.

It had seemed obvious enough to me, but I liked how it was tucked away, hidden from the world.

Newt was the only one who was able to find me.

And when we became friends, it became our spot.

He came here when he felt empty.

It was here he told me his story.

It was here I told him I would always be around to help.

It was here he morned for me.

It was here he found out I wasn’t dead.

———

I heard the footsteps.

I didn’t bother wiping away my tears.

I was angered that someone found this place.

I knew they were looking for me.

I knew I should’ve been angry because I couldn’t carry out with my plan.

I was instead angry that someone had found this place. It was only supposed to be hers and mine. Us only.

I turned to scream, something I rarely did, but it was too much, there was just too much.

And there she was.

Bloody bandage around her abdomen, dark circles under her eyes, and her legs shaky.

But it was her.

This I knew.

We didn’t say anything. We didn’t have too.

Rather, she just walked forwards and kneeled down next to me, wrapping her delicate arms around me, burying her face in my neck.

She was alive.

She had done it.

I was proud, no one had ever done such a thing, but oh god all I could focus on was the fact that she was here, with me, in my arms.

In turn, I wrapped mine around her frame and pulled her closer, holding her tight, without hurting her.

“Hi love.” I whispered, my voice cracking. It was how I woke her up, an accidental slip one morning that became a word of comfort and playfulness between us. I never thought I would get to say those words again, to have to the chance to wake her up again, to hold her to my chest like I do now.

It began quietly, her tears, but they soon escalated, and all I could do was hold her and never let her go.

Her broken sobs finally broke me down, wearing down the wall that was already crumbling, and we sat there crying, holding each other.

I didn’t know how she had done it.

I didn’t know how she had gotten hurt.

I didn’t know what had happened to her.

And yet, for this moment, holding her in my arms was enough.

No one survives a night in the maze.

Except for her.

[fictionalabyss]

All the cardio I need.

Pairing : Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean

Word count :  2,973

Written for : @spnkinkbingo​ & @spnabobingo​

SPN Kink Bingo Square : Marathon sex

A/B/O Bingo Square : Marathon heat sex.

Warnings : A/B/O smut, heat/rut, sex, oral sex, shower sex (implied and mentioned), masturbation, mild jealousy.

A/N : This was inspired by something @kittenofdoomage​ had said in the pond chat a while ago- about marathon sex being the only cardio Sam needed when I was trying to figure out this square lol, so thank you Rhi!

Masterlist • Patreon • Ko-fi.

SPN Kink Bingo 2020 Masterlist.

SPN A/B/O Bingo Round 5 Masterlist.

“Sam.. n-need-” You hadn’t needed to finish the words, he could smell it. Dean was already salivating and slowly rising from his chair at the unclaimed omega in heat in the doorway. Sam growled threateningly, teeth bared as he shot up and turned on his brother.

“She asked for me.” he threatened his older brother who’s eyes never left you.  Dean didn’t move, so Sam was quick to get you, grabbing your arm and dragging you back into your motel room next to theirs. He could see people on the street stop to watch, another guy passing the parking lot was watching you with hunger and Sam bared his teeth again before shoving you into your room.

“I’m sorry, it’s just- it’s not working anymore and-” as soon as the door shut behind him, Sam cut you off with a searing kiss, teeth scraping against your lips. It was like he was trying to devour you, so much hunger and need behind the kiss. His large hands on either side of your face to keep you from pulling away.

You were left panting when the kiss finally broke, trying to pull air into your lungs despite your lips chasing his. “I got you.” he whispered. You nodded as your lips finally caught up to his again and you all but purred into the kiss at the feel of Sam’s fingers ghosting down your neck, his thumb following your throat to your sternum.

You barely noticed as clothes were shed, Sam did all the work as he backed you closer and closer to the bed. His lips never leave you unless he absolutely needs them to. It only fully registers when you fall back onto the bed and Sam’s standing before you fully naked himself. “Roll over.”

You’re quick to obey, rolling onto your stomach. The bed dips as you feel Sam’s hair brushing your ass moments before his lips do the same. The sensation makes its way up your back until Sam’s chest is heavy against your back, as his teeth nip and bite at your shoulder.

“You smell so good, omega.” Sam growls against your skin. “Fuck, you smell so fucking good. Can’t wait to finally taste you.” He starts moving back down, lips following the curve of your spine.

“No!” Sam stops, looking up at you as you turn to look over your shoulder. “Please, I-I can’t wait that long. Please, Sam. Need it.”

“Need what?” a coy smile graces his lips.

“Need your knot, Alpha. Need it so fucking bad. Please.” you beg, arching your back so your ass pushes against him. “Please. Just knot me. You can eat my pussy until there’s nothing left in me later, I just need that thick alpha knot.”

“You sound as good as you fucking smell.” Sam groaned, wrapping an arm around and under your hip, lifting you up more as he rutted against you, his cock sliding through slick sticky thighs. “I hope you feel just as good.”

“Please.” you begged again, his arm leaving you. You felt his hand against your ass as it fisted his cock and he lined up. “Please-” you gasped as Sam pushed in to the hilt. “Oh, Alpha.” you breathed out at the feel of him stretching you.

“Gonna fuck you hard, ‘mega.” Sam spoke as he nosed at your skin. “Gonna pound you into this mattress until I’m positive you won’t be able to move after, and then I’m gonna knot you.”

“Yes.”

Sam’s hips moved back, then rolled forward again making you moan and he chuckled against your back. “Get your knees under you.” he ordered, pulling out and shifting his weight so you could. As soon as you were better positioned, he lined up again, and thrust in. The snap of his hips was delicious as he set a relentless pace so good you couldn’t control yourself, letting out cries of pleasure as your fingers twisted into the sweat soaked sheets beneath you.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck! Right there! Jesus fuck, right there!”

With every thrust forward, you can feel more slick leaking down your thighs, and when you breath in through your nose, you can smell yourself mixed with the musky scent of Sam and the sweat that covers him. And it’s fucking heavenly.

“Fuck, you feel as good as you smell.” Sam groans against your back. His head is hanging down, eyes on your ass as his hips slap against it. His hair is brushing over your skin as your body moves beneath him and it almost tickles. You can feel his sweat dripping off of him, his strong arms tense against your sides. You want to be on him, you wanna be riding him and holding onto those strong arms but you can’t even begin to get the words out right now. You can’t get any out anymore. Each snap of his hips in that one perfect spot has your mind going blank for a moment, drool beginning to leak out of your mouth because you can’t for the life of you remember to close it or swallow.

Before you know it, he's just pushing deeper, not pulling out as far anymore as he begins to swell. You find your voice enough to cry out as his knot stretches you and locks into place. Sam’s growling into your shoulder blade as his cock pulses and his balls empty into you. You milk him for everything he’s got, your body shaking with each pulse he gives, and when you can’t hold yourself up anymore you drop onto your stomach again.

Sam’s on your back, barely keeping his full weight off of you as you both lay there panting. Neither of you moves, or talks as you catch your breath and then wait. Minutes of silence tick by and then finally Sam can pull out. You wince as he catches, he’s not fully deflated yet, but it’s a delicious little stretch that you kind of hope to feel again.

“How are you feeling?”

You look over at Sam, he’s on his back next to you, watching you. “Better.” you give him a thankful smile as your eyes start to flutter closed. Your skin doesn’t feel like it’s on fire anymore, you’re still leaking slick like there’s no tomorrow, but now it’s mixed with Sam’s warm cum and you can feel it leaking down past your clit. You have half a mind to reach down and rub it in, get yourself off using the combined wetness. “So much better.” you breath out softly.

Sam chuckles. “I ain’t done with you yet.” Your eyes open again, and you look up at him. He’s licking his lips as he watches you, still with so much hunger in his eyes. “I still need to eat.”

Before you could say anything, Sam was rolling you onto your back. A girlish giggle escaped your lips as Sam spreads your thighs and settles between them. There was no hesitation on his part before he dove right in, his tongue collecting every drop of slick from your thighs to your clit, and he didn’t seem fazed in the least at the fact that his come was mixed in.

Sam devoured you. Had you writhing. Your fingers in his hair holding him right where you wanted him while your hips moved to coat his face in you and your toes curled. His name fell from your lips and he growled into your pussy, the vibrations shooting through you only making you needier for him. He pushed two fingers past your entrance, pumping them as he sucked on your clit.

“Sam!” Your thighs tightened around his head, fingers tugging on his hair as he brought you to another shaking release.

“Delicious.” Sam smiled, eyes on you as you lay there panting.

“Fantastic.” you answered in a breath and he laughed, hand wiping at his mouth before he moved up over you to bury his face in your neck. “No.”

“No?” Sam’s head came up and he gave you a confused look. “No what?”

You shoved him off of you so he fell onto his back next to you. “Not done.”

“Still feeling it, huh?” Sam smirked and you nodded as you sat up, swinging a leg over his hips to settle on him. You could feel his soft dick shift under you as Sam flexed the muscle.

“Need more, need your knot again.” you licked and nipped at the exposed skin of his chest. “I can still feel the ache, Sam. It won’t go away, it hurts so bad.” you whined, hips rolling against him and his cock throbbed once more.

Cupping your face, the tips of his fingers in your hair, he brought you up into a kiss. “Anything you need.”  

You nodded at him, lifting your hips and Sam took the hint. Reaching between the two of you, Sam stroked himself, breathing in your scent and enjoying the feel of your lips, tongue and teeth on his skin. As soon as he was hard enough, he lined up and you both groaned as you lowered yourself down his full length. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

You lifted your hips, then rolled them back down again. “Fuck me until I can’t walk anymore.” His hands moved up your thighs, enjoying the feel of the skin under his fingers before his hands settled on your hips and he began to help move you, his own hips coming up to meet yours, both of you moving faster. “Harder.”

You had passed out in a post orgasmic blissed out haze, and Sam decided he’d take the opportunity to head out for some quick food.  It had been nothing but sex and naps for the last 14 hours, and he knew you had to be getting hungry. Hell, he needed food just to keep going. But first, he needed to shower. He couldn’t head out smelling like an omega in heat, that would be nothing but trouble.

Sam was scrubbing at his skin, trying to get as much of the scent off as he could when it hit him. Your scent, and it was strong. He turned just as the shower curtain yanked open. He watched as your eyes ran over his body, down to his feet and when your eyes made their way back up, he couldn’t help but flex his pecs.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your eyes slowly meeting his.

“Thought I could sneak out and grab you some food. Wasn’t expecting you to wake up against so soon.”

“Couldn’t smell you.” you mumbled, stepping into the shower with him, not caring that you were currently wearing Sam’s shirt that you had scooped up off your floor. “Rolled over and you were gone.” your hand moved up his chest.

“Didn’t go far.”

“Don’t go.”

“You need to eat.” he pointed out.

“Can eat after.” Your fingers reached his neck and you pulled him in for a kiss, your mouth instantly open for him, hungry for him again. Sam chuckled into it.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Mhm.” you hummed with the tiniest of nods, pushing your body closer to his. His arm wrapped around the small of your back, holding you tight and you felt his length begin to stir against your stomach. “And I’m not the only one.” you teased against his lips.

The left side of Sam’s lips quirked up into a smile as he let out a small huff of breath. “Give me a sec.” He watched the surprise on your face as he pulled back, hand reaching out for a towel. “I’ll be back.” he chuckled, stepping out of the shower just long enough to dry off and get his phone from the bedroom.

“Sam?” The ache was starting to come back, the need for him, there was no way he couldn’t smell it, there was no way he didn’t feel a need himself, to come back in here and fuck you, claim you.

“Hey, Dean.”  Dean? He was calling Dean at a time like this? You watched with disbelief as he came back into the bathroom, phone to his ear with one hand, and tossed aside the towel with the other. He stood there naked, cock standing at attention as his eyes met yours. “Need a favor.”  Sam smirked at you. “Was about to head out and get some food, don’t think I’ll be getting out any time soon.” Sam gave a nod, which you assumed meant Dean responded, but without saying anything else, Sam hung up and put his phone down on the counter next to the sink.

“Sam..”

“We got about thirty minutes, give or take.”

“All I need.” you reached for him, and he was more than happy to step back into the shower, pinning you between the tiled wall and his body.

“Need a favor.” Dean could hear a shower going in the background of the call. “Was about to head out and get some food, don’t think I’ll be getting out any time soon.”

Dean let his head fall back. “Yeah, just uh.. I can head out in about ten minutes.” Sam didn’t answer, just hung up so Dean let his phone fall from his hand to land on the bed next to his thigh.

Motel walls were notoriously thin, that’s something Dean has known his whole life. You can hear through them, sometimes even smell through them if the smell is strong enough. And right now, he can smell you. You’re on the other side of that thin wall in heat and he can smell you through it. He’s been hearing you and Sam go at it like rabbits while he can smell you, and now, because of that phone call, he knows you're in the shower. He can almost picture it, picture you naked as water runs down your body.

His grip tightens on his cock as he strokes it and lets the images he can see behind his eyes get him to where he wants to go.

If he listens carefully, really carefully, he can hear you. His head turns, his ear directed a little more towards the bathroom door next to his bed, and he can hear you getting fucked against the wall on the other side. Apparently you’re loud in the sac, and damn if he doesn’t love it.

His head falls back as his strokes pick up speed, he needs to head out and get you food. He needs to get himself out of this damn room or this is how he’ll spend the rest of the damn week, cock in hand and desperate to get in that room. “Fuck!” it comes out through clenched teeth as he convulses, spurts of come shoot up and over his hand. A few more strokes to encourage the rest to leak out over his knuckles, and then he lets his body go slack, breath coming in heavy as he calms himself.

It’s early morning again when you rouse from sleep. You can see the rising sun just starting to shine on the wall through the crack in the curtain that’s behind you. A soft whine falls from your lips at the feel of Sam’s length sliding lazily deeper into you, his nose his against the back of your neck. “What time is it?” your voice is hoarse from sleep still.

“Early.” he answers, his agonizingly slow push and pull never stopping. “Not 6 yet.”

“Shouldn’t you be on your run? I’m feeling a little better, you could go-”

“Marathon sex with you is all the cardio I need.” he chuckled. Then he groaned as he breathed you in, trying to push himself even deeper. His hand was on your waist, your thighs together since you had slept on your side with him spooned up against your back.

You chuckled softly back until a snap of his hips cut it off and made you gasp. That's when you noticed something new in the air. You could taste it. Sniffing at the air, you could smell it. Your head snapped around, your upper body twisting so you could see him better. “You’re going into rut.”

“I am.” he nosed at you, fingers digging into your waist a little tighter. He didn’t want to let you go but he knew he had to ask. “You mind if I stay? Use the last of your heat to help me through?” his eyes were on yours, almost pleading with you not to make him leave.

“You can stay.” it was a soft whisper, and Sam brought his lips to yours in a feather light kiss. You found yourself whining again.

“We need to talk, before this goes any further.” his words mumbled against your lips.

“About?”

“Once this is in full swing, I’m gonna have a hard time controlling myself.” His lips brushed yours once again before he moved along the corner of your mouth to your jaw and towards your neck. “If you don’t want me to claim you, you need to tell me now.”

“I-” Sam's lips ghosted along your neck. “I-” You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, Sam had you on fire all over again.

“Need to know now, I’m fighting it as it is and it’s only going to get harder.”

You whined when his lips reached where he’d mark you, his teeth scraping against the skin waiting for you to say yes, begging for permission to mark and claim you as his. “N-no.” Sam stopped what he was doing and looked up at you. “Not yet.”

“Not yet?”

“I want you fucking me senseless when you claim me. Want you in full rut and unable to control yourself. I want my Alpha.”

Sam groaned, arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you impossibly tighter against him. “Oh, you’re gonna get your Alpha alright, Omega.” he growled.

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