#I THOUGHT HE WAS JUST A SHITTY TONIGHT SHOW HOST OR SOMETHING

[multitrack-drifting]

VOX USED TO BE A CULT LEADER??????

VOX USED TO BE A CULT LEADER

WHY AM I ONLY LEARNING THIS NOW

eh makes sense i guess

[pandenewie]

06 - Not so Undercover Agent

Prev | Masterlist | Next

“Um Keeho… are you sure this is the right address?” Y/n asks as the three pull up to what they thought was Jay’s address. Although now they’re not sure as their car sits parked in front of a huge three story house - one far too fancy for a college student to own.

“I swear I, like, triple checked. This is the address Jake gave me.” Keeho claims, pulling out his phone to check once again. “My shitty car doesn’t belong in a neighbourhood like this.” Yunjin frowns, taking note of the multiple, much nicer cars that are parked around the street. “Well, unless Jake lied to me, this is definitely the place.” Keeho shrugs. “I’ll park around the block… somewhere I’m less likely to be hate crimed.” Yunjin laughs, driving a few streets down before putting the car in park.

“Okay, I got us something useful.” Keeho says, pulling three walkie talkies out of his bag and showing them proudly to the group. “Aren’t they cute?” He asks, earning deadpan expressions from his friends. “Why would we need those when we have phones?” Y/n asks. “Because these are so much cuter and more spy-like? I literally put stickers on them and everything so you bitches better use them.” Keeho scowls, handing a walkie talkie to each of his friends. “And where am I going to put this?” Yunjin asks, gesturing to her lack of pockets or bag. “Just shove it in your bra and go.” Y/n laughs.

Once everyone is situated, the group gets out of the car and starts walking back to Jay’s 

house. “So everyone remembers the plan, right?” Y/n asks, earning nods from their friends. “We each track down Jake, Sunghoon and Jay and grill them for information.” Yunjin nods. “And we all stay completely sober! We need to remember anything we get tonight.” Y/n says, looking at Keeho in particular. “I know you’re not looking at me, blacked-out-after-two-drinks over here.” He smirks, earning an eye roll from Y/n. "If anyone's gonna need a drink it's me." Yunjin sighs, already dreading the fact that she'll have to spend most of the night with Sunghoon.

Jay's house is busy - as expected from a party of this level. Now that they think about it, a three story house is the perfect place for a party. Plenty of room for guests to hang out, spaces to hookup, to escape from the loudness, there's a spot for everything. This also means that there's unfortunately plenty of places to hide. Finding anyone in this place is going to be a difficult task.

"You guys made it!" A voice calls over the loud music. The trio turn to find Jake waving obnoxiously to them from the kitchen, pushing a few people out of his way as he walks through the crowded living room. He’s clearly already a little tipsy, judging by the way he trips over his own feet and immediately clings onto Keeho’s arm for stability.

“Someone’s a little excited.” Keeho jokes. “Jay made cocktails! They literally just tasted like juice so I chugged like three a few minutes ago.” Jake giggles. “Speaking of Jay, where is he? You’d think the host would greet his guests at the door.” Y/n asks, looking around the room for any sign of the male.

“Last I checked he was playing beer pong upstairs with Sunghoon; could’ve moved though.” Jake shrugs, almost tripping on his feet once more despite standing still. “Why don’t we go get you another drink?” Keeho asks, Jake’s eyes lighting up at the mention of alcohol. The two stumble back towards the kitchen, leaving Y/n and Yunjin standing in the doorway.

Yunjin turns to look at Y/n, a displeased expression on her face as she comes to terms of what they have to do.

“Well… beer pong it is?”

Finding Jay and Sunghoon appeared to be a much simpler task than originally anticipated. As soon as the two made their way up the smooth concrete stairs, they were met with the sudden noise of cheering from a room down the hall.

Entering the room, they expected to see a much larger group than what they were greeted with - due to the noises they could hear from outside. Instead, their eyes land on Jay and Sunghoon battling it out as well as a handful of unfamiliar guys and girls watching from around the room.

Y/n and Yunjin quickly find their place in the chaos, standing separate from the rest of the group but just far enough from Jay and Sunghoon to not make things unnecessarily awkward. “How the hell are we supposed to grill them if they’re tossing around ping pong balls all night?” Yunjin asks. “We’ll just have to find a way to distract them from the game.” Y/n shrugs, watching as Jay lands a ball perfectly in one of the cups - pointing and laughing loudly as Sunghoon quickly chugs the liquid.

“What are the two of you doing over here all alone?” A sudden voice asks. The two turn towards the noise, immediately spotting the familiar face of Jooyeon, someone they’ve seen around campus a couple of times. “How are we alone if there’s two of us?” Yunjin asks, clearly shooting down whatever lines he’s trying to throw. Jooyeon, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on her blatant rejection, his gaze dropping to the lack-of-drinks in both their hands. “And without alcohol? Now that’s just sad, how about I get you two cuties something to drink? My buddy Gaon makes a mean Woo Woo.” He says enthusiastically, causing Y/n’s brows to furrow in confusion. “What the fuck is a Woo Woo?”

Y/n quickly realises that they should not have asked that question as Jooyeon begins to explain (in great detail) the step by step process of making a Woo Woo, from ingredients to historical origins - even mentioning some myths and legends about the great Captain Jimmy “Woo Woo” Harker.

“Leave them alone, Joo.” Jay suddenly calls out, his voice immediately bringing the excruciating conversation to a halt. “I’m not hurting anybody!” Jooyeon fires back, only earning a laugh from Jay. “You’re hurting their brains with all that Woo Woo nonsense, go tell someone else about it.” Despite clearly wanting to continue his conversation, Jooyeon listens to Jay and excuses himself from the conversation.

Now with the knowledge that Jay is, in fact, aware of Y/n’s existence - they use this as an opportunity to talk to him. Y/n gives a reassuring squeeze to Yunjin’s hand before walking towards the ping pong table, immediately taking place at Jay’s side.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know.” Y/n mumbles. Jay’s eyes are focused on the game but they can tell from the upturn of his lips that he heard them. “Would you prefer I let him talk your ear off?” He asks sarcastically. Y/n represses an eyeroll at his comment and instead focuses on the way Jay successfully sinks another ball with ease.

“You’re good at that.” They comment simply, watching as Sunghoon begins to complain about Jay not playing fair. “I don’t think I’d even hit the rim.” Jay laughs at this, finally turning to look Y/n in the eyes. It’s the first time he’s given Y/n his full attention and the way he does a quick scan of their body does not go unnoticed. “It takes practice… lucky for me, my friends are idiots who would rather practice their beer pong skills than do anything productive.” He says, his attention momentarily turning back to Sunghoon, who shoots and misses his shot. “It’s a shame I’m the only one who got better.” Jay adds, winking at Y/n before picking up the ball once more.

“You wanna try?” He asks, holding the plastic ball towards Y/n. “You’re prepared to lose your winning streak for me?” Y/n asks playfully. “Oh come on, you can’t be that bad.” Jay laughs, gently placing the ball in Y/n’s palm. “Hoon, grab someone else. We’re doing 2 v 2.” He calls, an idea immediately popping into Y/n’s head. “My friend Yunjin can play.” They say, pointing to Yunjin, who’s still in her previous spot. 

Sunghoon’s eyes seem to almost fall out of his head when they land on Yunjin, quickly beckoning her to join him at the other end of the table. “Are you any good?” Sunghoon asks, earning a scoff from Yunjin. “You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” Yunjin says playfully, smirking at the way Sunghoon practically melts at her words. This is going to be so easy.

“Jesus Christ, man.” Keeho scolds, catching Jake once again as he attempts to run back onto the dance floor. “Let me go! They’re playing the Macarena.” Jake whines, earning an eye roll from Keeho. How he ended up babysitting a drunk Jake all night is still a mystery. “We’ll ask them to play it again later when you’re sober enough to stand.” Keeho says, sighing with relief when Jake gives in and settles next to him on the couch.

Jake is far gone. How the hell is Keeho supposed to get any useful information out of him if all he can think of is alcohol and the Macarena? He doesn’t even think that Jake would even remember if Jay had cheated in his current state. Just as he’s about to offer the Australian some water to sober up, he feels a sudden thud as Jake’s head falls to Keeho’s shoulder - soft snores escaping from his mouth. He’s in for a long night.

Sunghoon sucks at beer pong. He also sucks at holding his liquor, evident in the way he’s practically resting his full body weight against Yunjin - the only thing stopping him from falling to the floor.

“You giving up, Hoon?” Jay calls tauntingly. Sunghoon goes to mumble something in response, likely another complaint about Jay not playing fair, but ultimately decides not to. “He looks like he needs to lay down.” Y/n says worriedly. “He’ll be fine, a few glasses of water and he’ll be good as new.” Jay reassures. With his words, Yunjin wraps her arm securely around Sunghoon’s waist, walking him out of the room - presumably to get him something non-alcoholic to drink.

“I can’t believe I didn’t even have to drink once.” Y/n speaks in awe. Jay, of course, had sunk most of the balls. But it felt good to be on a winning team for once. “You wanna play one on one?” Jay asks smirking, his question causing Y/n to laugh in disbelief. “Are you trying to get me drunk, Jay Park?” Y/n accuses playfully. Jay raises his hands in surrender at this. “Just trying to show you a good time.” “Well, I hate to break it to you but I’m not drinking tonight.” Y/n shrugs. “Who says you need to be drunk to have fun?” Jay asks. “Your friends, probably.” Y/n deadpans, earning an eye roll from Jay. “Yeah well, they’re idiots.” Jay clarifies. “And yet you hang out with them?” Jay can only chuckle at Y/n’s clap-back, leaning back against the table. “They’re my idiots.”

Keeho has whiplash. One second ago, Jake was fast asleep on his shoulder and now he’s attempting to do the splits on the dancefloor. A few shots and some almost ripped pants later, Jake finds himself back on the couch with Keeho, passionately chatting about the cultural differences between Australia and Canada.

Just as Jake is about to explain the difference between kangaroos and wallabies, Keeho’s phone notification interrupts the conversation. “Ooh, who are you texting?” Jake teases, leaning to catch a glimpse of Keeho’s phone screen. “No one. It’s just a twitter notification from Kimmy.” Keeho shrugs, shoving his phone back in his pocket.

“Is she tweeting about Jay again?” Jake asks, causing Keeho’s eyes to widen. “You know about that?” He asks, shocked. “Everyone and their mother knows about it! She won’t shut up!” Jake exclaims, excessive hand gestures backing up his words. “Fucking hate that bitch.”

Keeho’s eyes widen even further, almost popping out of his skull at Jake’s words. Is this finally the chance to get some light on the whole cheating situation? “Why is she so pissed at Jay anyway?” Keeho asks, trying to be as subtle as possible. Jake sighs at the question. “I don’t know, man. She was always a little goofy in their relationship, hated it when he did or said certain things. It was dumb stuff, like getting angry when he would game with me and Sunghoon. And she would get so upset when he cheated, for some reason.” Jake rambles.

His drunken words cause alarm bells to go off in Keeho’s mind. Kimmy got upset when Jay cheated. Poor unsuspecting Jake doesn’t even realise what he’s just done.

“Y/n… Yunjin… I’ve got it. Let’s go.” 

Yunjin’s eyes widen at the sound of Keeho’s voice blaring through the walkie talkie that’s currently placed securely in her bra. Sunghoon is drunk, but clearly not enough to the point where he’s oblivious to his surroundings.

“... did your boobs just talk?” He asks, his eyes practically staring a hole through her shirt. Yunjin gives him the benefit of the doubt; there’s far too much alcohol in his system to understand social norms and decent respect. She’ll make sure to slap him for his comment later.

“Uh… woah, are they playing the Macarena right now?” Yunjin asks as a distraction, her question causing Sunghoon’s eyes to widen. “Oh my god, I need to find Jake.” He exclaims, suddenly sobering up enough to sprint out of the room to find his friend. Sighing in relief, Yunjin pulls out the walkie talkie. “These were a terrible idea.” She speaks into it before walking off to find her friends.

“Were you guys planning on robbing me or something?”

Y/n should have known the walkie talkies would get them in trouble. Jay plays with the device in his hand, gently smiling at the rainbow heart stickers before turning his attention back to Y/n - who stands there, sheepishly.

“We weren’t, I swear! Keeho just had some… business to do and he wanted to use walkie talkies to make it more fun. I find it hard to say no to him sometimes you know, especially cause he brought them specifically for this and then he got the stickers and everything-”

“-Y/n, Yunjin and I are at the front door. Are you done with Jay?”

The sound of the walkie talkie once again breaks through the noise, causing Y/n to face palm. Jay looks at Y/n suspiciously before bringing the walkie talkie up to his lips. “Y/n’s a little busy at the moment… they’ll get back to you soon.”

…

That sounded ominous. Y/n feels themself sink further under Jay’s gaze as their mind begins to wander to what is about to happen. Has he figured out why they’re here? Is he mad? The sudden feeling of the device being placed back in Y/n’s hand snaps them out of their thoughts. “Wait here… I just need to check something.” Jay mumbles before walking out of the room.

Y/n doesn’t even wait a second after Jay leaves before quickly looking around the room, analysing all options to escape. Running towards one of the big windows, they calculate the likelihood of falling to their death. It wouldn’t be the first time Y/n climbed out of a second-story window… and they’d likely only sustain a sprained ankle (and perhaps a concussion) if they fell mid-way. Seeming like the best bet, Y/n shares their plan through the walkie talkie before pushing open the window. They nervously glance back into the room to check the coast is clear before starting to climb down. So much for being subtle.

TAG LIST (open): @bringer-ofchaos @yenqa @fakeuwus @mrchweeee @jjongshrts @oldjws @jxp1-t3r @wildflowermooon @sunseeking-cryptid @miniature-tragedy

[builtbybrokenbells]

Hate To Love You

Being around him was unbearable. You weren’t sure why he hated you as much as he did, but he ensured that you were aware of it any time he saw you. After one night of taking it too far, the full story finally comes out.

Read part two here

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: just under 6k

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex (pls wrap it before you tap it), oral (m!receiving), oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving) dirty talk, hair pulling, slight exhibitionism, sex in a public place (sort of), swearing, insulting, dickhead sam, drinking, bit of a love triangle more so at the end, sorry if i missed any!

smutty enemies to lovers, my weakness. Enjoy! sorry for any grammatical errors, please be kind :) also maybe a part two if anyone is interested?

~

The door to Danny’s apartment flung open, causing a collective whip of heads to turn and look towards it. Sam Kiszka stumbled in, clearly tipsy and looking a bit disheveled. You clenched your jaw at the sight of him, hoping by some power of the gods he wouldn’t show up tonight, although you knew your wish was not likely to come true. He was always around, looming and seeming to want to do whatever he could to ruin your mood.

Music was softly playing through the room, bodies were crowded in every corner, and your drink was quickly reaching the end. As if some higher power was willing you to have a terrible time tonight, Sam’s eyes immediately fell on you. A frown quickly twisted on his lips as he made his way towards you. If you weren’t so scared of looking weak, you would’ve cowered away from him, but you stood your ground. His hand rested on your arm as he leaned in to whisper something to you. “You know, when you’re here, they should really give me a warning before I show up,” he said. You casted your eyes to look at his face. He smelled like booze and cigarettes as if he’d just stumbled out of a dive bar.

“Why is that, Samuel?” You made sure to elongate your words with an annoying drawl, just to piss him off.

“So I can prepare myself for a terrible fucking night.” He let your arm go with a little push, causing you to lose your footing slightly. No more words were shared before he disappeared into the group of people behind you. His cologne lingered in the air for moment, making it harder to forget he had arrived. You brushed the interaction off, knowing that Sam was always going to be the way he was and you couldn’t let it bother you.

As you made your way to the kitchen to pour another drink, you ran into the host of the nights event. “Pipsqueak!” Danny called over to you. You had to laugh at the nickname. He started using it within days of meeting you, just a gentle joke poking fun at your height. Of course he’d thought you were short, most of the time he failed to realize that almost everyone was short compared to him. He wrapped his arms around you, engulfing you in a hug. “What’s your drink of choice?” He asked, motioning to the bottles of liquor displayed on the counter.

“Whatever you’re making me.” You smiled, taking a seat on one of the chairs. Danny was always a ray of sunshine, sober or not. He made everyone’s day better just by existing. He was the first you’d met out of any of the members of Greta Van Fleet. You had been sitting by your lonesome at a bar one night after a final blowout with your shitty ex-boyfriend. You’d found solace in the cheap tequila shots at the nearest dingy bar. He stopped for a drink after a long day at the studio. It was like fate meeting him that night. He was a very attractive guy, but the friendship you’d blossomed with him that day was something you’d been craving since you made your start in the city. Under different circumstances, you may have let him take you home that night.

You were never the best at making friends. Not because you were mean or any other outstanding baggage, but mostly because you were awkward. You’d spent your entire high school career dating the same toxic guy, and moved in with him almost immediately after graduation. There was never much time to make any friends other than him, simply because he wouldn’t allow it. So, the social cues you should have grown into simply passed you by. Danny was like a breath of fresh air, never minding your stuttering or uncertainties with the whole bonding process. He took to you immediately, imploring you to hang out with him and his friends.

That night he listened to your story with no judgement and even offered you somewhere to stay until you’d found your own place. You brushed it off, thanking him, but you already had one lined up. The breakup was long overdue and you were nothing short of a planner, always having an exit strategy. Instead, he came with you as the entourage as you collected your things from your ex’s house. He helped you move in, wanting to get to know you, and ended up wine drunk with you by the end of the night. It was a perfect housewarming activity. Within the next weeks, he’d introduced you to his best friends, who all had the same welcoming personalities. You were finally at peace with a group of people who made you feel like you belonged.

In the beginning, Sam was just as kind and charismatic as Danny was. You had even found yourself falling for him a little bit. But something changed somewhere along the line and you never really knew what it was. One day he’d went over to Danny’s apartment to share a cool bit of music he’d thought up and found you lounging in his kitchen, clearly freshly woken up. You’d stayed over after a night of bar hopping with your new-found best friend. Danny was still asleep as you made breakfast, which wasn’t a rare occurrence. It looked a little domestic to anyone else, but there was no chance of anything more ever happening between the two of you. Simply just two friends who loved spending time together.

Sam was stunned seeing you in that state, stuttering as he greeted you. He didn’t even stay to show Danny what he’d written. He was out of there faster than he’d arrived. The dynamic shifted that day. It started off slow with him being more passive with you, less engaged, but as time went on it had turned into hatred. It was if he couldn’t even stand the thought of being in the same room as you. There was never a reason why, or an explanation of any sort. Things were just different.

“Whatcha thinking about, pip?” Danny asked, mixing a drink for you. Your eyes looked up to meet his, immediately growing a smile on your lips.

“Nothing too interesting,” you replied. He stuck a straw into the solo cup, bringing it up to your lips. You took a sip, swallowing down whatever concoction he’d made for you. You let out a hum of pleasure, nodding your head in appreciation. “That’s so good!” You exclaimed. He laughed at your reaction, setting the cup in front of you. “You know, if the music thing doesn’t work you, you’d make a great bartender.”

“Maybe in twenty years we can open a bar together, like a family restaurant but instead of good food, really strong drinks that will knock you on your ass. Then we can force our kids to take it over when we retire.” He laughed.

“Exactly!” You giggled, grabbing your cup to take another drink. At that moment, someone had bumped into the back of your chair, causing you to spill the liquid all over the front of your dress. “Shit!” You yelled, standing quickly.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there.” The voice sounded from behind you. You gritted your teeth, knowing exactly who it belonged to.

“Fuck you, Sam.” You said, not even having to look at him.

“You wish!” He said, carrying on to whatever he’d been intending to do. Danny gave you a sympathetic look, scrambling for some paper towels. You cleaned yourself off as best you could, anger radiating from you.

“Fucking asshole.” You mumbled, tossing the wet paper into a trash bin.

“Sorry about him,” Danny said, but you stopped him before it went any further.

“Dont,” you stated. “You’re not responsible for him, you don’t have to apologize on his behalf. I’m quite aware of what he’s like by now.” You let out a humourless chuckle.

“I don’t know why he’s like that, though. He loved you when I brought you to meet everyone.” Danny said, clearly not understanding his distaste for you any more than you did. You shrugged.

“Guess it doesn’t really matter why, cause it doesn’t seem like it’s gonna change any time soon.” Danny reached out and placed a large hand on your shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. He pulled you into his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. He knew how much it bothered you.

Eventually you two had parted ways, him getting pulled away by another friend. You found yourself mingling with a small group of people you’d seen around a few times at previous gatherings. Your eyes wandered around the room. Danny had quite a spacious apartment, and somehow always managed to escape a noise complaint. Your gaze fell upon the one person you wanted to avoid all night. He was next to a girl who you’d never seen before, leaning into her and saying something that was causing a blush to rise to her cheeks.

A tinge of jealousy ran through you. You had to shake it off, completely shocked at the emotion. There was no world where you thought you’d find yourself envious of any of the girls Sam found himself wrapped around. You chalked it up to the copious amount of liquor in your system, maybe making your loneliness a bit more evident than it was when you were sober. In truth, you were. You’d never even had a date after your breakup the year prior. At first it was willing, not wanting to end up entangled with another asshole again. Recently, it was more of routine than anything else. You’d grown comfortable with your empty apartment, your own space how you liked it with nobody to disturb the peace. That didn’t mean you weren’t human, though. Everyone craves intimacy by times.

You made your way back over to the seat you’d been in earlier. You wished Danny would come back to mix you another one of the drinks he’d made you. You tried your best, but it was always too strong or way too sweet. You had to laugh at your own alcoholic incompetence. You didn’t start drinking until you were legal age to do so. Maybe it was because you were a bit of a goody-two shoes growing up, or perhaps that you really just didn’t like the taste of it. Either way, you were still trying to find the ropes of mixing your own beverages and always seemed to fail miserably.

You hummed along to the music playing through the speaker, minding your own business. You didn’t feel the need to be constantly conversing at events like this; sometimes, you’d rather sit back and take it all in. As you pulled out your phone to check the time, you felt a body present itself next to you. You looked up to see a guy you’d occasionally seen hanging around with the boys, but you couldn’t place his face to a name. You gave him a smile as he sat down beside you. “Hey, y/n, right?” He asked. You nodded, taking in his features. He was relatively attractive, but not someone you’d seek out intentionally.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You answered.

“I’ve heard lots of great things from Danny, I just thought I’d come over and keep you company. You looked a little lonesome over here by yourself.” He offered a smile, a quite cute one at that.

“I wouldn’t mind that at all.” You shifted to face him so you could get a better look at him. He was tall, but not as tall as Danny or Sam. You still had to look up to meet his eyes. “What’s your name?” You asked, suddenly embarrassed that he knew you but you didn’t know him.

“Oh, I’m Scott.” He said, suddenly reaching his hand out for you to shake it. You took it, letting the touch linger for a moment. “Sorry, I guess we’ve never really properly met each other.” He let out a nervous chuckle.

“We have lots of time, now.” You offered.

You lost yourself in conversation with him, finding out he had quite the sense of humour. You’d found yourself getting tipsier by the minute, losing your rigidness the more the time went on. He had said something particularly funny, causing you to lean into him while you laughed, resting a hand on his shoulder. He took the opportunity to snake an arm around you, and you didn’t mind it in the slightest. In the midst of him beginning to ask you about yourself, a hand presented itself on your shoulder, as well as one on his. You looked back to see Sam looming over you. You had to stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“Hello, Samuel.” You said, dryly. He ignored you and turned to the boy beside you.

“I see you’ve met y/n!” He boomed. Scott nodded, not sensing the tension in the air.

“Yeah, we were just getting to know each other. She’s great!” Scott replied. Sam gave a laugh, nodding as if to agree.

“She sure is, but be careful, man, she’s quite the catch. I’d hate for her to cause anything between you and Danny boy.” He informed him, causing you to shoot him a look of confusion.

“What do you mean, man?” He asked back.

“Well, they’re quite involved, if you get what I’m saying.” Sam chuckled. He recoiled at the words, looking between you and Sam. “Oh, she didn’t tell you?” Scott shook his head, clearing his throat.

“Well, uh, it was nice talking to you, y/n.” He stood, excusing himself. Your stomach dropped. When Scott was out of earshot, you turned on Sam.

“What the fuck was that?” You seethed. Sam scoffed.

“You’re flirting with Danny’s friend, in his own house. That’s pretty low, even for you.” He announced. You stood, too, grabbing onto his arm and dragging him into the hallway for a little more privacy.

“I don’t know what idea you have in your head, but it’s wrong.” You informed him. “Unless you really wanted to go above and beyond to make me miserable tonight.” You let go of him, turning to face him now.

“The idea that you’ve been fucking Danny and flirting with everyone else behind his back? I’m pretty sure that I’ve got that pretty clear.” He shot back, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you delusional?” You asked, incredulously. “I’m not sure what world you’re living in, but Danny and I are most definitely not fucking.” A look of uncertainty flashed in Sam’s eyes. “And not that it’s any of your business, but we never have.” His posture slipped a bit, relaxing slightly.

“He seems to like you an awful lot, and you’re always over here, or he’s at your place. I have a pretty hard time believing that.” He said, still on the defensive. If he didn’t hate you so much, you could almost believe he was jealous.

“Because we’re friends, Sam!” You shouted, shoving your hands into his chest. He faltered, running into the wall behind him. “If you could get past your own ego and talk to me for ten seconds, you would know that! Maybe you would also know that he’s the only friend I’ve ever really had, so yeah, we’re pretty close!” You we’re fuming.

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy because I don’t like you?” He snapped back now, catching the attention of a few stray people passing by. “If I remember correctly, you were the one who started flirting with me, and then I walk in one day to you making breakfast in Danny’s kitchen with just his shirt on!” You stepped back when he spoke, not expecting him to explode like that. As soon as he’d said the words, the months of passive-aggressiveness seemed to make so much more sense. “I thought that maybe you actually liked me, that it was going somewhere, and then I walk in on you in my best friends kitchen like that?” He was getting closer to you with every word he said. The tension was immeasurable. You were both furious.

“Maybe instead of running away, you could’ve just talked to me like a normal person! Then you went on your little fucking power trip, being an asshole to me whenever you got the chance. Do you get off to it, treating me like shit?” Your noses were practically touching by now.

“It kills me, actually.” He was speaking lowly, now, just for you to hear. “Because even if you’re a fucking slut, somehow I still feel the same way about you as I did back then.” He admitted. “But it’s always Danny this, Danny that, he’s the best guy in the whole world and Sam’s just a douchebag, right? I get to watch him love you and get chastised because you broke my fucking heart.” You could’ve strangled him on the spot.

“You’re an idiot, Sam.” You shook your head. “You are so fucking stupid.” You laughed. He didn’t know how to respond, watching you intensely as you formulated your next sentence. “I was falling for you too, Sam. You broke my heart, too.” You spat. “Everything is not always about you!” You saw something flash in his eyes. Remorse, maybe? You weren’t sure.

“Do you still feel that way?” His tone still patronizing, but laced with curiosity.

“No,” you hissed. “You may be attractive, but you’re still a dick. I liked you when you didn’t want to make my life a living hell.”

“So you think I’m hot?” He smirked.

“Fuck off, Sam.” You tried to push past him and rejoin the party. He grabbed your wrist as you passed him, pulling you back to face him.

“I asked you a question.”

“I’m not going to sit here and stroke your ego all night.” You pulled at your arm, trying to shake him off. He pulled you in closer, letting his free hand rest on your hip. Goosebumps prickled your skin as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“I was kind of hoping you’d stroke something else.” As cringey as the pass was, you couldn’t help but feel your breath catch in your throat. His grip on you tightened slightly, but you didn’t want to give him any satisfaction.

“In your dreams, Kiszka.” You breathed, unsure of why he was affecting you so much. You hated him.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve dreamt about it a lot.” He was leaning down, lips resting on your ear now. The feeling of his breath on your skin ignited something in you, suddenly not caring about the months of shit he’d given you.

“Then why don’t you do something about it, already?” His grip on your waist tightened just before he snaked his hand around to your lower back, moving to the side and pushing you in front of him. He guided you into the nearest open door, which happened to be the bathroom, and closed it behind him. You had no time to process what he was doing before you were lifted onto the counter, Sam between your legs and his lips on yours.

You wasted no time getting your hands on him, pulling him closer to you. The bulge in his jeans was growing more noticeable by the second and his hands were clawing at the bottom of your dress. His fingers slipped underneath, teasing you through the lace of your panties. You let a moan slip out into his mouth, suddenly becoming hyper aware of where you were and who could hear you. “Sam,” you said against his lips. He didn’t stop but he switched to kissing down your neck, sucking marks into the soft skin. “S-Sammy,” you whined. He hummed against you, pulling your underwear to the side and running his hands through the pool of wetness. “We can’t do this here!” You whispered, but your body was betraying you. You were grinding yourself against his hand, begging for friction.

“You want me to stop?” He mumbled, mouth now down to your collarbone. His unoccupied hand freed one of your tits from the top of your dress, wasting no time pulling it into his mouth. You let out a hiss of pleasure, trying to find the willpower to push him off of you. He let his fingers slip inside of you, making it even harder for you to tell him to stop. “That’s what I thought, princess.”

“Can you at least lock the door?” You pleaded, finally making him pull his head away, but his fingers remained steady. He looked at you, lust clouding his vision. He gave a smirk before he spoke.

“I’ll make you a deal,” he drawled, pulling your chin up so you would look him in the eyes. “I’m going to get you off, and if you can stay completely silent, I’ll lock the door before I fuck you.”

“Sam-“

“Ah,” he cut you off, letting his thumb trail over your bottom lip. “Or, I can just leave you here like this, dripping and aching for someone to take care of you.” Your eyes widened in shock, not willing to call his bluff. ‘Still an asshole even in the bedroom.’ You made a mental note. But, it was fucking hot. “Up to you,”

“I can be quiet.” You promised. He let his thumb that was tracing your lip push past them. You opened your mouth slightly, allowing easier access, then closing it around it. You suctioned your mouth for a moment, and then let him pull it away. It left your lips with a gentle pop. He let out a long exhale.

“I know you can, baby. Just be good for me for a little while, and I’ll lock the door for you.” You nodded, eager for him to keep touching you. His fingers moving inside you weren’t enough, you needed more. He pulled his hand from you, bent down slightly and hooked his arms under your thighs. He pulled your ass forward, bunching the bottom of your dress in his hands and got down on his knees. Your breath caught in your throat just watching him between your thighs. Not once did you think you’d end up here.

He ran his tongue through your folds, getting a taste of what he’d been doing to you for the last few minutes. His attention landed on your clit, which had been begging for him all night. Just with a swirl of his tongue, you were trying not to scream his name. He could tell just how much he was affecting you, and it was driving him crazy. He suctioned his lips around the bundle of nerves, causing you to reach your hand to his hair. It only drove him to work harder, now adding his fingers back to you. You were biting your lips and trying to steady your breathing, praying a noise wouldn’t slip from your mouth. He was secretly hoping you would, just to get the satisfaction. He curled his fingers, hitting a spot inside you that caused you to pull on the strands of hair you had in your grasp. He pulled away for a moment to catch his breath. “Fuck you taste good, baby.”

Your feeling of desperation was immeasurable. You wanted so badly to say his name, make some noise to show him how good he was making you feel, but the idea of someone hearing you made hold back. Sam was pumping his fingers at an agonizing pace, using his tongue to drive you over the edge. He wanted someone to hear you, to know that you were making noise just for him. Within minutes, you were at your end, the knot in your stomach growing by the second. You bit down on your tongue in a last ditch to silence yourself, but when his tongue ghosted over your clit one last time and you lost yourself to pleasure, his name tumbled from your lips along with a gasp. You gripped his hair hard enough that he had to fight to keep his mouth on you. When you came down from the high, your limbs felt like putty. “I-I’m s-sorry,” you stuttered as he came back up to his feet. Your orgasm was glistening on his chin as he pulled you in for a kiss.

“Don’t apologize to me, I could listen to you say my name like that all day.” He breathed. His hand reached to the doorknob, clicking the lock. “I don’t want anyone interrupting this.” He said, pulling at the buckle of his belt. You hit his hands out of the way, wanting to do it yourself. You slid off the counter, praying you could stay steady on your feet just for a moment. You undid the button of his jeans and pulled his zipper down. With one swift moment you pulled his cock free and dropped to your knees.

A gasp of surprise came from him as you took him in your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. He balled your hair in his fist, letting his head fall back with a groan. You relaxed your jaw and took him as far as you could into your mouth, bobbing up and down. “Fuck, y/n.” He muttered, looking down at you. “You look so pretty like this.” Your eyes fluttered up to meet his. The look on his face was enough to send you over the edge, but you kept going, wanting to make him feel the same way he’d made you feel. You bobbed your head down once more and he bucked his hips forward, causing a gag to overtake you. He pulled you off of him by your hair in an instant, feeling slightly bad for his earlier action. “I need you to stop before I cum. I still need to fuck you, remember?” His tone was breathy, trying to sound arrogant but failing slightly.

Just as you sprung back to your feet, he pulled you in for another kiss, filled with neediness. He pulled away, spinning you around and pushing you down so your chest was flush with the counter. He hiked your dress up again, this time far enough up that your ass was exposed. You felt his hands brush over it softly, giving a gentle squeeze while he admired the view. It was the most tame he’d acted with you all night. As if he’d realized it too, you felt a sharp smack, eliciting a gasp from you. He pulled your underwear to the side again, lining himself up with your cunt and showing no mercy thrusting into you. A yelp escaped from your lips, but you silenced yourself quickly. He grabbed your hair in his fist again, pulling your head back and leaning down so his lips were on your ear.

“Keep your fucking mouth shut,” he hissed, teeth grazing over your earlobe. “I’m going to keep going, now. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sammy.” You rushed out.

“That’s my good girl.” He said, pulling away from you. “I love those noises baby, but I want to keep them all to myself.” Fuck, he was hot. You didn’t have any time to ponder over the words, because he’d resumed his pace, fucking into you desperately. He had one hand on your hip and the other still knotted in your hair. You hoped the music in the main room was covering the noises of his skin slapping on yours, but you wanted him so badly you didn’t care. “Fuck you feel good.” He growled, loosening his grip on your hair so he could move his other hand to your waist.

“Harder, please, Sammy.” You pleaded.

“You asked for it,” he groaned, more to himself than you. He dug his fingers into your hips and pulled you back onto him as he thrusted into you. You couldn’t help but let a choked moan out, but he didn’t care enough to chastise you for it. He kept up his pace, hitting your cervix with every re-entry.

“I’m gonna…” you trailed off, voice wobbly from the pleasure and the pace he was fucking you at.

“You wanna cum, princess?” He asked. All you could do was hum a noise of affirmation. “Okay, baby,” he mumbled. “Cum for me.” He demanded, but you could tell that underneath the authority he was begging for you to do so. With a few more thrusts, you found yourself coming undone, your legs giving out from underneath you.

“Fuck, Sam!” You gasped. In an instant, his hand flung around you to cover your mouth, stifling any noises or profanities you couldn’t hold back. He wasn’t far behind you, twitching inside you and hips faltering. He pulled you onto him one more time, holding you in place. He lost his composure, leaning down on top of you as he reached his own orgasm. He managed to mutter your name while he turned your head to the side to connect your mouths again.

Heavy breathing filled the otherwise silent room. You were both covered in sweat, in no shape to go out and face the crowd of people outside. He pulled out of you, moving his hand under you to avoid any mess spilling out. You laid on the counter for a moment, not feeling strong enough to hold yourself up. He pulled you panties back in place, leaning down and leaving a small kiss on your asscheek, then sucking a mark into it. You let a giggle out as he pulled your dress back down. “That’s for me to see, later.” He assured you. He pulled his pants back up and buckled his belt.

“I have to get cleaned up.” You informed him, finally pushing yourself up off the counter. You made a move to push past him, but he stopped you.

“Fix your hair and your makeup and get back out there.” He said, no look of joking in his features.

“But Sam-“

“You heard me.” He said, placing another kiss to your lips. You felt yourself throb at his order. “You’re gonna go out there and hope you don’t make a mess anywhere, and in twenty minutes, you’re going to meet me outside and we’re going to leave.” He informed you. You couldn’t even protest, his tone turning you on again as soon as the words left his mouth.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

“To my place, and then you’re going to let me hear all of those pretty noises I missed out on.” He said, pulling you in for one more kiss. “And then maybe tomorrow I can take you on a real date, make up for… well, everything.” His voice was softer now, taking your cheek in his hand and running a delicate thumb over it.

“I’d like that.” You assured him. A small smile broke out on his face. Your heart fluttered. It had been a long time since he’d smiled at you.

“Me, too.” It was crazy how different he was acting in comparison to just a few moments before. “You should cover up those hickeys, too. If we haven’t been caught yet, we will be if you walk out with those on display.” He chuckled. You turned to look in the mirror, inspecting the damage. He was right, he had left a few marks that were darkening already. You wiped away the smudged mascara and lipstick, thankful you hadn’t worn too much makeup.

You straightened your hair out and ran a hand through it, brushing out any knots that had formed. Sam admired you, looking at your face in the mirror. He felt like shit that he’d been so mad at you for no real reason, and that he was so hurt he never bothered to ask you for the full story. But, the looming knowledge that he held made him feel even worse. Danny was most certainly in love with you, and he’d just fucked you in his bathroom. “I think this is as good as it’s gonna get.” You sighed.

“Beautiful,” Sam said, pulling you back into him. “I’m sorry for being a dick.” He mumbled, lips pressed into your hair.

“You’ll make up for it.” You smiled into his chest. He nodded, huffing out a sigh. Guilt had begun to eat him alive. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“Does Danny know that you don’t have feelings for him?” You looked up to him, wondering why he’d bring this up right now.

“I mean, I never said it explicitly, but I’ve also never made any advances either. I don’t see why he would think I do. He’s never even brought anything up in regards to it, either.” You said. Sam nodded, taking a sharp intake of breath. “Why?”

“I think that maybe you should talk to him.”

“Why?” You asked again. He stayed silent, fingers dancing over your cheekbones. “Sam, why should I talk to him?” You pressed.

“If we’re gonna do whatever this is, he should be the first to know.” He eased into it. Your stomach dropped, knowing exactly what he was hinting at.

“You knew he had feelings for me?” You whispered. “And you had sex with me in his bathroom?”

“I know,” he ran a hand through his hair. “Probably not the smartest move on my part.”

“You think?”

“Fuck, y/n, I’m not trying to be the bad guy!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been in love with you for just as long! Maybe I could’ve went about it differently, but we don’t have to tell him this part exactly!” Your stomach churned with anxiety. “If you knew that before, would you still have done it?”

“Of course not!” Sam recoiled as if you’d shot him. Your eyes widened. “No, not like that, Sam!” He relaxed a bit. “I mean, yes I still would’ve gotten with you, but not here! I like you, Sammy, and I have from the beginning, but I don’t want to hurt him, ever. He’s my best friend!”

“He’s mine, too!” He snapped back. You took a deep breath.

“Listen, it’s okay. We’ll figure it out.” You said, taking his hand into yours and intertwining your fingers. “I want to be with you, I really do. I’ve always liked you, although you were quite the asshole for a while, I still do. I wouldn’t have had sex with you if I didn’t.” You reiterated your earlier point to soothe his worry. He leaned into you, nodding at your words.

“I want to be with you, too. We’ll make it work, and we’ll do everything we can to make sure he’s alright, too.” He said softly. “But the bathroom incident stays a secret for the rest of our lives.” You let out a giggle.

“Alright, then.” You stood on your tip-toes to place a kiss on his lips. “I’d still like you to take me home with you, tonight, if you’d have me.” You whispered. “We don’t have to do anything, I think I’d just like to be there with you.”

“Of course, princess. I couldn’t think of anything I’d want more.”

.

Part two, perhaps?

[frozenhuntress67]

Piano Bar *Austin Butler x Plus Size!Reader

TW: There is a little self-body shaming I suppose. I'm plus sized and often think of myself in these scenarios

Imagine being a cast member on SNL and getting Austin to go out for drinks with some of you only to admit the feels the two of you have been catching for one another after a few drinks and a song

I was chatting away after rehearsals with Cecily and Lizzo when the topic came up. We usually went out for drinks at least once after rehearsals and they had been goading me to invite our host for the week.

"He has been making eyes at you all week! Go ask him to go out with us!" Cecily urged.

"You're crazy both of you, what would a guy as sweet, funny, and handsome as him want with someone like me?" I asked my eyes meeting the floor.

"Hey, hey none of that. I see a beautiful, funny, sweet girl who is worth way more than she thinks she is." Lizzo chimed in. "Now put on your grown-up girl pants and ask that gorgeous boy out for drinks!"

"Okay, okay! I'm going!" I said with a laugh and made my way towards the host's dressing room. I took a moment for myself before taking a deep breath and knocking on the door. He opened it rather quickly popping his head out.

"Hey, (y/n) right?" He asked.

"That's me, some of us are going out for drinks tonight and wondered if you'd like to come with? Someone's setting up a shuttle bus and should be here in about a half an hour? Unless you're tired from rehearsal which I totally understand." I replied trying not to ramble and getting totally flustered along the way.

"No, no, I'm not too tired I'd love to join you guys. Drinks sound great." He said.

"Great! That's great like I said we'll all be meeting in the lobby in about half an hour. See you there." I replied before walking away and letting out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in and returned to where Lizzo and Cecily were waiting.

"So?" They asked in unison.

"He said yes, I swear that might have been cringier than my first round of auditions."

"Perfect, and I have just the thing for you to wear. I found it and thought of you, my friend." Cecily said handing me a bag. Inside was the most beautiful vintage dress.

"Cecily, I can't accept this it's too much."

"You can wear it for me as a going away present, you've got to hold down the fort here for me, you're a gifted actress and a great friend. You're going to great things (y/n). But first I want you to allow yourself to be happy." She said shaking the bag in my direction once more. I took it and went into one of the bathrooms.

I put on the dress and paired it with a red leather jacket and red boots. Was I crazy wearing something like this in December? Maybe but I couldn't care. When I stepped out to face them again, they cheered.

"You're hot girl!" Lizzo said and I couldn't help but blush. "You should come work for me as a model for Yitty."

"Stop it, we need to get downstairs." I spoke. The two nodded and we made our way down to the lobby of Rockefeller Center. I still wanted to freeze a little when my eyes met Austin's but when I truly saw the way he was looking at me I couldn't help the smile that graced my face. "Hello again." I said to him. I told myself tonight I wasn't going to let my own shitty self-esteem hold me back.

"Hi, you uh, you look great." He replied and I was so glad for the cold that flushed my cheeks to hide the blush he caused.

"Thanks, you uh, clean up pretty well too." The horn of the shuttle bus interrupted the moment. "Shall we?" I asked leading the way to the bus. When we got off, I groaned seeing the bar the girls picked. "You guys didn't tell me we were coming here."

"What's wrong with this place?" Austin asked me.

"It's a piano bar and I am a frequent performer on my nights off from the show." I admitted.

"You brought me here when I hosted, it should be a rite of passage." Lizzo intercepted. "And besides it's not as though you can't sing (y/n)."

"You sing?" Austin asked.

"Not professionally and I certainly won't be playing any famous musicians anytime soon but yes I dabble." I joked. "Maybe you'll get to see after a drink or two." Even without liquid courage I found myself flirting. Perhaps it was the way he looked at me in the lobby that gave 0me the boost of self-confidence I needed. We all settled in and after a few drinks Sal the owner finally asked the question.

"So (y/n), what'll be tonight?" He asked. The question had run through my mind since we arrived. It was silent for a moment until my fellow cast members began to chant my name.

"(y/n), (y/n), (y/n) ..."They chanted and then I looked at Austin who just nodded and with that one look I knew exactly what I was singing and for whom it was. My feelings that I'd shoved down all week finally decided to come to the surface. I looked at. Sal.

"Fever by Peggy Lee." I said and made my way up to the microphone after a quick shot and the removal of my leather jacket. He made his way over to the piano and let the band know my selection. I snapped my fingers along to the sound of the bass.

Never know how much I love you Never know how much I care When you put your arms around me I get a fever that's so hard to bear

You give me fever When you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever In the mornin' A fever all through the night

Sun lights up the day time Moon lights up the night I light up when you call my name And you know I'm gonna treat you right

You give me fever When you kiss me Fever when you hold me tight Fever in the mornin' A fever all through the night

Everybody's got the fever That is somethin' you all know Fever isn't such a new thing Fever started long ago

Romeo loved Juliet Juliet, she felt the same When he put his arms around her He said, "Julie baby, you're my flame"

Thou givest fever When we kisseth Fever with thy flaming youth Fever I'm on fire Fever yeah, I burn forsooth

Captain Smith and Pocahontas Had a very mad affair When her daddy tried to kill him She said, "Daddy, oh, don't you dare"

He gives me fever With his kisses Fever when he holds me tight Fever I'm his missus And daddy, won't you treat him right?

Now you've listened to my story Here's the point that I have made Chicks were born to give you fever Be it fahrenheit or centigrade

They give you fever When we kiss them Fever, if you live you learn Fever 'Til you sizzle Oh, what a lovely way to burn Oh, what a lovely way to burn What a lovely way to burn And what a lovely way to burn

When it was over our cast mates started to trickle off catching cabs back to their respective homes.

"That was amazing!" He asked.

"Well, I don't think I would've had the courage to sing something like that if it weren't for the way you looked at me when we left. Everyone kept telling me you might like me but I thought they were wrong. But I think I've been feeling the same things this week too." I admitted.

"I'm really glad to hear that (y/n) Maybe after the shows over we could go on a real date?"

"I'd like that very much."I said. We sat there fro another hour before getting a cab and hsaring it until he got back to his hotel. We exchanged numbers before he left.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" He asked.

"You can count on that." I replied. He began climbing out of the cab and walking towards his hotel. The cabbie started to drive off but quickly stopped when he saw Austin running back. "What are you doing?" I asked with a giggle.

"I forgot to give you something." He said before taking my face in his hands and kissing me. "Now I'll be going. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." I said shutting the door and letting the cabbie resume his drive. I'msure he kept the meter running but I couldn't care less.

What a lovely way to burn indeed.

(is it cheesy? Yes. Do I care? No. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did because I really want to right more for this gorgeous, gorgeous man. Bye! ;) )

[holyghostbws]

heartbreaks and mistakes ; bws 💔

| Based on this request: hiii, do you take requests? if so, could you do an angst imagine where Brad is going thru a tough time/breakup and the band mates help him out? |

They met in december. Brad could still remember the first time it snowed that year because that same day he met her. In that very moment it had felt as if time had stop, he swore he could see the snowflakes falling in slow motion, glistening as they fell into the ground, almost as bright as her smile.

Every time they’d go out together, Brad would immediately reach for her hand. He didn’t have to look at it, he knew exactly the position of her fingers and how to intertwine them with his. If the air was too cold, he would gladly take his jacket off and put it around her shoulders; sometimes he secretly wished she would forget hers, just so he could give it his, let his arms be his blanket and let the world know she had someone. With time, forgotten clothes started to appear scattered around his flat, only for him to put them in an empty drawer that then became hers. Sometimes it wasn’t just clothes, sometimes it was an earring resting on her pillow, a scrunchie forgotten in the bathroom, the smell of her perfume in his sheets.

Brad could still picture every moment with her like it was a movie, he often found himself replaying memories in his head as if they were episodes of a tragic love story. It made no sense that he had burned and deleted all of their pictures together and even blocked her on social media, because their love was inked to his skin. Their relationship was built upon small, meaningful moments… she was home to Brad, but Brad wasn’t home to her.

Brad remembered the first time he met her parents. Unfortunately, it wasn’t something planned, they met them on one of their dates by accidentally running into them. She had introduced Brad as a friend although they were way past that state. Still, he said nothing and thought she had her reasons, maybe her parents were difficult, maybe she wanted to introduce him at a better time like a family gathering… he should’ve known. He should’ve known since the moment he said “i love you” and she never said it back, instead, she started a brand new conversation about weather. He had been foolish, he had been blinded by love and was too busy falling for her to see that he was the only one falling.

He had already pictured a future with her. They would host Christmas for their family and friends, full of peppermint-flavored kisses and presents, romantic dates on Valentines, picnics in the middle of flowers blooming, sweaty summers by the beach, matching outfits for Halloween… they never made it that far.

It was heartbreak after heartbreak for him during that relationship: “sorry I can’t meet your parents, I just think we should wait until the right moment”, “no, I can’t go out with you and your friends tonight, I have so much work to do”, “I’m so sorry I missed your concert, I know it was important to you and trust me, I hate myself for missing it but things got messy at work and they wouldn’t let me leave… you don’t want me getting fired, right?”, “I promise i’ll make it up to you”, “I swear it’s the last time that this happens”, “I’m sorry babe, please understand that it was out of my hands”, “Please believe me, I swear it won’t happen again”… There’s only so much pain a heart can take and Brad’s had been strong for so long, it was bound to happen: the breakup.

The blind fell to the floor on his birthday, when she didn’t show up. Just as many times before, she promised she’d be there on time, and he believed her, of course. Even he knew, deep in his heart, he was gonna be let down again, he decided to trust her; another mistake added to the already long list. Even in a room full of people who loved him, Brad felt miserable. How come everyone but her was there to celebrate him?

He wondered what he had done wrong to deserve that, maybe it was karma, maybe he was a shitty boyfriend, maybe it was a lesson he had to learn. It didn’t mattered why anymore, she didn’t love him and the only way to get through it was to blur everything out by getting wasted with his best mates, the ones that did show up, the ones that did care for him.

A week after his birthday, the call came.

“Hey, I think we need to talk” she said. The sentence every lover fears the most. The sentence that ends it all. Her voice sounded distant, like it was muffled. Hearing her break his heart for the millionth time would destroy him, he need to protect himself, so he tried to dissociate as much as he could from the conversation.

“About what?” He asked, trying to play it cool. He already knew, he knew exactly how it was going to go, he knew how she would try to act like she cared, like it was a difficult decision to make but after all it was the right choice.

“Can I see you? I’ll drop by your place.” He didn’t want to see her ever again, it would only make things worse for him, it would make him feel guilty when he didn’t have any reason to feel that way. It was true, but it was also true that he did want to see her, he wanted to see her everyday for the rest of his life, he wanted to see her when he woke up and when he went to sleep, he wanted to see her smiling and wanted to see her crying. Brad wanted to see her young face and then also her face after time had aged it. He wanted her, forever.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t make it” Was the first thing she said when he opened the door. Brad stood still and quiet and watched her face filling with something that seemed like regret.

“Did you even try to go?” He asked after a while. His voice was calm, he tried to appear neutral and unbothered but his eyes gave him away. There was no hiding the sadness and disappointment in them.

Her dropping her head to the floor was enough answer for him. She didn’t. And he knew that, still, it didn’t make it easier.

“I honestly don’t know what to say to you. I don’t even know why you’re here. It’s so obvious that you never cared and that you don’t feel the same way, so why bother? Don’t you have better things to do?” He still kept calm but could feel his insides shattering with every second that passed.

“Stop being so dramatic, Brad. I had a really shitty week and came here to apologize.” She rolled her eyes.

“Oh, sorry for bothering you and interrupting your apology, I have no right to be mad at you.” He could feel himself running out of patience.

“Oh god” She whined. “I knew it was a bad idea coming here, it’s impossible to talk to you when you’re like this…”

“You’re right, it was a bad idea for you to come here, you should go.” Brad said.

“I’m trying to tell you something, you asshole” She started raising her voice.

“I don’t want to hear it. I’m sick and tired of you, of always waiting for you just so you never show up, of keeping up with your bad moods and hurtful words, of always giving and receiving nothing back, I-“

“I’m sorry! I really am! I’m trying my best to be enough for you. I just want to be with you.” Her voice sounded high pitched, like she was about to cry but her eyes were dry.

“Cut the bullshit and don’t go wasting my time. Don’t waste yours. I see through your lies, I just pretended I didn’t because I loved you and wanted to believe you, but we can stop now.” The calmness in Brad faded away and was replaced by anger.

For a second, silence filled the atmosphere.

“I love you.” That was a stab that stroke to kill. It fueled him with rage and suddenly he wanted to stab her back, to hurt her as much as she did to him, but how could you hurt someone that simply doesn’t care?

Months ago, those three little words were all he wanted to hear. It’s funny how words mean nothing when they’re a little too late.

“Goodbye, y/n.”

💔

A week and a half was the longest he could keep the break up a secret from his band mates, they noticed his eyes had lost its sparkle and the bags under them.

“How you holding up mate?” James was the first one to ask. James already knew the answer to that question but felt like Brad could use the talking… that would’ve worked if Brad was communicative about his pain.

“I’m fine, actually.” Brad answered. The first days were rough for him but he had already managed to keep his feelings bottled up, regretting it and beating himself up would be of no use and besides, why would he keep being sad and mad about a relationship that was already dead? It was better to just move on and keep going on with his life, after all, the world wasn’t going to stop and nothing would change just because she didn’t love him.

“You know it’s okay to talk about your feelings, right? There’s no shame here.” James reassured him.

“Yeah, you can talk to us about anything.” Tristan intervened.

“There’s nothing to talk about. She never cared about me, why would I care about her?” Brad said, it sounded way more harsh that he intended to.

There was nothing his band mates could say that would make him feel better, that would at least ease the grieving. Memories stung him, it was like a disease with no cure and time was only a cruel reminder of a love that had maimed him.

“Yeah, mate. Fuck her. You can have any girl that you want, we should go out tonight.” Connor said. James wanted to kill him.

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go out! You’ll forget about her in no time” Tristan chirped in.

“I think it’s a good idea to distract yourself but I also think you should talk about your feelings with someone and not just go and fuck the first woman you find.” James intervened, afraid of how the others would take his words.

“Oh shut up, James. What Brad needs right now is a night out to get wasted and meet a pretty face.” Tristan said with a laugh.

“Hey! Let’s go to Ibizaaaaaaa!” Connor screamed.

Brad stopped listening to his friends plans after that. He loved them, he really did, but none of them had the answers for mending his broken heart.

“Hey, uh, what if we try writing something?” Brad said after a while. Tristan and Connor stopped talking and turned their heads to him.

“Writing? Seriously?” Connor said in disbelief.

“I mean… sure, if that’s going to help you.” Tristan said and gave him a pat in his back.

“It’s a great idea! I’ll bring the guitar.” James said, seeing it as an opportunity for Brad to open up.

Brad had handwritten notes he found deep in his drawer right in his pocket: words of love that he had thought of turning into a song, into an album even… maybe those would now turn into an angry song or a sad one, or maybe into nothing. That was the magic of songwriting. After all, music and his friends had always been his therapy.

[lastchancevillagegreen]

Saturday, 10 December 2022:

Tonight’s The Night Neil Young (Reprise) (released in 2016 as part of NYA, Neil Young Archives; the original release of this album came out in 1975)

So, I’m at the Springfield Record “Fair.”  I like to use that word simply to debase this whole charade, that’s what it was once called when it consumed three rooms in the basement of a hotel; now it consumes one room and barely does that.  I attended because I thought perhaps I would find something cool for my brother for Christmas.  I must somehow still think of the time he and I attended and he bought a copy of The Fall’s debut Live At The Witch Trials that was pressed by IRS.  He was probably all of ten years old, maybe younger, maybe older but I recall this and I somehow think every time I attend it will still be a cool show to attend.  If there were any Fall albums to be found at this show, the Earth might have spontaneously combusted. 

The last time I attend this fair (last year or two years previous) I was buying things like Carlene Carter’s F-Beat albums, my beloved Shellyan Orphan albums and an Ellen Foley album that features Strummer and Jones.  In this entire record fair there were precisely four milk crates containing “new wave/ alternative” artists or as I like to call them artists from the 80s.  One guy, who had two bins. had the debut from Black Tape For A Blue Girl, The Rope, but it was on a label that I couldn’t place. I have checked discogs and I cannot find it there either and now I’m miffed I blew it off.  Anyhow, the other dude had in his bins lots of Elvis Costello 12 inches, bootlegs, a copy of T-Bone Burnett’s debut Truth Decay on the Takoma label but he wanted $4 for it and I didn’t want to check the vinyl condition!  All of his albums were between $1 and $5 and by this point I was more than bored.

I finally sucked up the courage to visit Craig Gonn’s booth.  He had a sealed copy of Dave Edmunds’ Information for nine buck which I wanted to pick up.  But I opted to look at the bins right where our illustrious host was sitting.  No sooner do I do that, he picks up his iPhone and hits play and begins playing The White Album.  Now I’m old, but for crying out loud, I’m not sure there was one single human being in that room who needed to hear a shitty representation of that album on an iPhone let alone ever again at a record show.  But he played only the opening track and then shut it off which I found pleasing.  But then two minutes later he plays the damn opening track for a second time.  Really?  We have to hear that song not once, but twice, on an iPhone.  But the killer moment, which had me walk away from his booth leaving poor sealed Dave Edmunds all alone, was when Dear Prudence came on an Craig Gonn began singing along.  And I don’t mean quietly.  Not one single 60+ year old man in that room needed to hear that song again in their lifetime and they sure as hell didn’t need the Craig Gonn version. 

I sulked away from his bins midway through and went to the booth in the middle of the room.  He had a typical selection of albums for this show (quite frankly, they all did) but he did have modern sealed copies of a wide variety of things.  I’m digging new pressings of old albums these days and when I discovered he had the Neil Young Archives pressing of Tonight’s The Night I opted to pick it up considering I have bought a huge amount of Neil’s NYA reissues this year and this is one of my very favorite albums of his. 

I then skulked out of the record fair dejected because I ended up buying to of the most pedestrian artists for the age group of men (there were two women in attendance and both went right to the “new wave/alternative” section) Dylan and Neil Young.  I am as bad as Craig Gonn singing Dear Prudence.  I may have attended my last Old Man Music Fair in Springfield.

Above you find the album cover, the gatefold and the back of the album.  The texture on this album remains just as it did way back in 1975 (I didn’t buy mine until 1977 but I bought it brand new and it still retained that textured cover).  The gatefold through me because it is a glossy gatefold.  I would have swore Neil changed this, although that didn’t sound like something he would do, so I dug out my original copy and sure enough, the gatefold is glossy. 

Below you will find the inner sleeve for the album.  I like that Neil is putting the album in a white stock inner sleeve and still giving us the original inner sleeve, all nice and crisp.  

Neil also ensures the original insert is still included.  This is one of my favorite inserts in any album (I am crazy for this album in many ways) as I don’t know what any of it means, but I think it is cool just the same.  The first photo shows the insert opened once, essentially the front and back of this insert.

Then you will find the inside of this two fold insert which includes a photo of Mickey Rooney of all people.

Then when you unfold the whole insert you are given a review of Neil’s Tonight The Night’s show penned appropriately in Dutch.  I’d almost bet they panned show. 

The labels are replicated from the original release.  I recall my first time seeing those black Reprise labels and I was stunned by this.  I was well aware of the album’s reputation and I thought a black label of a well known brown/orange label was just one of the coolest things I’d ever seen. The silver on this new label isn’t quite as bright as the original, but it still gives a solid effect.

The last thing I intended was of course, the only thing I did: I bought for myself and not my brother.  But then there wasn’t much there for either of us.  Hence, buying Dylan and Neil Young, as I say, two of the most pedestrian artists that group of old men could have bought. 

[silentexplorer18]

Heaven: A Kiba Inuzuka Short

Summary: Kiba's life sucks. He doesn't wanna deal with shit. Everything that could go wrong has, and nobody fuckin' cares. Well, maybe not nobody...

Pairing: Kiba Inuzuka x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ Modern College AU; Alcohol and Substance use; Alcohol and Substance Abuse; rehab; inaccurate portrayals of alcohol use, drug use, and rehab; Death of a family member; pet death; lots of cursing.

Word Count: 3,600+

Note: Definitely feeling Dog Sees God vibes from this.

Read on AO3 ▪ Masterlist

Kiba swallows his third shot of Jägermeister of the night and reaches for one of the weed-laced blondies waiting for him on the kitchen counter. It’s been a few weeks since he’s been to a party like this, and he’s not complaining about the host’s alcohol choices. The rum he’d been sipping through most of the evening was good. It settled warm in his gut and swept him down the river of relaxation faster than anything else he’d tried this week. The Jäger, though, that’s where it’s at. Even the blondies are nice. A little too burnt around the edges, but nice.

He’d probably eat anything that wasn’t nailed down, but, damn, if he doesn’t like something sweet when he’s tipsy. Not that he’s tipsy, though; he passed that stage two hours ago and kept at it. It felt better that way. Easier.

But the party’s starting to be too much for his tastes. The adrenaline for the night has wound down, and he knows the blondies will only mellow him out further, so he takes an extra for the road, fills a spare solo cup, and sets off on his walk home.

Home. It’s such a weird fuckin’ word. The rental he’s been staying at with Shino and Sasuke isn’t much of a home. It’s fine, he guesses, for all intents and purposes. It’s a roof and a bed. They keep to themselves as much as possible, which is fine, too, but on nights like tonight, he kind of wishes his roommates were willing to be a little more invested.

He’s tired. His dog died. He’s been through hell and back the last few months after moving out and losing his ROTC scholarship by engaging in habits otherwise unbecoming of a member of the United States military. He’d only come to training stoned a few times right after Akamaru—

It’s not like he’d shown up fucked on a day he had to wield a gun or something. Still was enough, though. They’d kicked him out without remorse.

And he… Well, he doesn’t really know what to fuckin’ do now. He’s taking a few undergrad classes while he figures out his new change in career paths. Not that he was particularly dazzled by the military anyway; scholarships come in handy when you have an older sibling.

But now he has to figure shit out again. And he’s staying in a crummy fuckin’ rental with people he’s not even close to. There’s nothing redeeming in his life. Well, except for his girlfriend. She’s pretty redeeming. And just pretty—

He should call her. 

It’s hard because his vision is blurry, but Siri can figure out what he’s saying. His grin turns dopey as the screen starts ringing, and he decides to take a little break next to the big oak tree on Garrison Avenue.

“Hey, Kiba! What’s up?” Her voice is warm and bubbly and sweet. There’s shitty disco music in the background and giggles, which means she’s probably having a girls night with a few of her roommates. They bake things sometimes. Not the kind of baked goods Kiba’s found himself accustomed to in the last eight-and-a-half months, but that’s okay. She’s like the light to his dark. The sunshine to his storm cloud. It’s amazing.

“Nuthin’ much, babe. Jus’ out for a walk and thought I’d say hi.” He hopes she can hear the smirk in his voice, hopes she can get the message he fuckin’ loves her—

“Kiba?” her voice is so soft, tender as an eggshell. “Are you drunk again?”

She doesn’t like it when he drinks.

“M’cello was throwin’ a party,” he mumbles in return. “Woulda been rude t’ not show up.”

“Where are you?”

“Uh,” he frowns. “The big tree?”

Luckily, he’s been here more than a few times, and this is one of the few places she could find in her sleep. Because of him.

“Shit, that’s so far from your house! I’ll be there soon, okay?”

His girlfriend: the fuckin’ godsend.

While he’s waiting, he finishes the last blondie and washes it down with a couple sips of rum.

Wasted. It’s such a shitty word for something that’s supposed to feel so good.

They said the high would let him see heaven, but he hasn’t gotten there yet, so he keeps trying. He thinks it’s the only time he’ll get to experience it, so he may as well try. He’s struggling. His life sucks. There’s no way he gets the real deal in the afterlife. Finding the pseudo-version on Earth will have to do.

God, he wants it so bad. He wants his life to be less shitty. He wants to taste heaven. He wants everything to stop fuckin’ hurting. Life isn’t supposed to be this hard.

She shows up in a beat up truck that definitely belongs to Ino Yamanaka. He tries to make a joke about car theft, but it’s interrupted when she grabs the solo cup from his hand and dumps it on the sidewalk.

The drive home is quiet aside from the radio. He tries to compliment her—she’s wearing her hair real cute—but she’s alarmingly unaffected by his praise.

Maybe he should invite her inside. Offer to pay her back for the drive. Even drunk, his hands still work wonders.

He reaches for her with a smile, standing in front of the porch with the peeling paint. Her hands are on his shoulders, but she isn’t smiling back, and he isn’t sure what the fuck’s going on. “What?”

She watches him through worried eyes, hands squeezing his biceps like a cat kneading a blanket, releasing all the pent-up energy.

“I can’t keep doing this, Kiba.” Her voice is still so fuckin’ delicate. “You keep doing this, and I can’t… I can hardly recognize you like this…”

He hisses and growls even as he pulls her closer, tears speckling his cheeks like freckles. “I’m hurting.”

She sighs, tickling his ear with the heavy breath. Her voice is hardly more than a whisper, and the tiny bit of sober still alive in his mind realizes that she’s trying not to cry. “I hurt too, but I can’t afford to fall apart because you’re too high to catch me.”

She releases him then, walking away while he’s left dumbstruck and alone.

He sleeps through the night but wakes up in the morning unsatisfied.

◃───────────▹

They don’t talk for three days. No texts. No calls. Nothing. He ignores it. There are parties. So many parties. They fill the ache in his chest until he can’t remember why he’s aching.

But on the walks home, she haunts him. He can’t wait to fuckin’ call her, and then realizes she won’t answer. She wouldn’t answer. She doesn’t answer.

It’s been three days, and she won’t talk to him. She’s been mad about the drinking and shit before, but not like this.

He’ll have to find her in person. Figure out what’s going on, how to fix it.

He hears her and Sakura in the library later that afternoon. They always meet up for gossip-filled study sessions. She’s so damn smart. They both are. He has no idea how he landed such a smart girl, though. Maybe that’s what he’ll ask as the ice-breaker for the uncomfortable conversation they’re sure to have.

But they’re right there, and he can’t resist eavesdropping first.

Sakura’s voice rises like the tide. “He’s an idiot,” she insists.

“I know.”

“He’s high all the time!”

“I know.”

“Why do you love him?”

Kiba can see her face twist between the library shelves. It crumbles like shitty bread, and she cries, hands over her face, hair brushing against the table as she presses her forehead against it like a prayer. Kiba retreats before he can hear anything else.

He thinks about her all night. That hollow look in her eyes behind the smiles. The tear tracks she always tries to hide. The way she flinches when the beer bottles clang together in the sink. I can’t afford to fall apart because you’re too high to catch me. Her words echo through his soul.

◃───────────▹

He knocks on Shikamaru’s door three times the next morning. Despite coming to the door groggy and annoyed, he says nothing as he takes Kiba in, watching him twitch and jitter under the scrutiny.

“I need to get clean,” he finally says.

Shikamaru’s the smartest guy he knows. There’s no one he trusts more to help him figure out how to get sober.

There’s a pause and a long moment in which Kiba fears he’ll be kicked out again. Then, Shikamaru says, “I’m gonna need a lot of coffee for this. Come on.”

◃───────────▹

He’s checked into a facility within the week, and he’s ashamed to admit he didn’t have the balls to tell her. Not that she would’ve answered his calls anyway.

Shikamaru’s been a gem about it, though. He’s coming once a week to bring some stuff for his classes and talk. It’s nice usually. A little stiff, awkward, but mostly because they’re not used to white fluorescent rooms and plastic chairs that could only have been manufactured in hell.

“She asked about you,” Shikamaru reveals the next time he comes.

The thought sends dread through him like a cannonball. He swallows the lump in his throat. “What… what did you tell her?”

“That you went somewhere to get some help.”

He feels dizzy. “What did she say?”

“She cried.”

“Shit.”

“It was such a drag.”

Kiba kicks him under the table. “Don’t be a jackass.”

Shikamaru’s smirk is playful, but his tone rests somewhere between proud and gentle. “Someone has to be now that you’re getting your shit together.”

It throws him for a loop. Shikamaru can tell but doesn’t throw him a bone. They both sit in silence.

“She’s gonna hate me,” he finally says. 

“Why?”

“I’ve been such a jackass.”

He regards him for a moment, and Kiba’s grateful he’s taking his time to consider an answer rather than give simple platitudes.

“She plays chess. She’ll understand.”

The answer requires some elaboration.

Shikamaru rolls his eyes. “Try playing chess sometime.” Then, he adds more seriously, “You have to sacrifice pieces sometimes to reach your end goal.”

Kiba considers it. Sure, it makes sense. It’s rational and methodical and makes sense, but he still feels like it’s off somehow. “You can’t break someone’s heart into pieces worth sacrificing.”

“I didn’t expect you to have any brains left. Sobriety’s doing wonders for you.”

“Shut up.”

He sighs. “I don’t know if she’ll take you back. If that’s why you’re in here—”

“I’m not.”

Shikamaru gives him a look.

“I’m not!” he insists. He ruffles a hand through his hair. It would’ve been better to have cut it before he locked himself in here. “I don’t wanna hurt anybody like that again. Not just her. I… I’m not me when I’m fucked up, man. I don’t wanna be fucked up.”

Margaret, his painfully cheery but otherwise well-meaning nurse, all but leaps into their room, bob bouncing against her ears. “Your hour’s up, Kiba! Your friend can come again on Friday.”

Shikamaru stands, clasping his shoulder on the way out. The touch feels weird but welcome. He likes being touched when his nerve endings are working properly.

“I’ll tell her you miss her,” Shikamaru says quietly. “Keep going. It’d be such a drag to give up now.”

He nods jerkily, blinking back the sting in his eyes. “Thanks, man.”

“Anytime.”

◃───────────▹

Kiba thinks about that conversation for the rest of the night. He lays on top of scratchy sheets that don’t have near enough dog fur on them and thinks of you and Shikamaru. He doesn’t know how he’s gotten so lucky, how he has so many friends there to help him. The thought makes his chest ache in a way that would usually send him toward a bottle. If he makes it up to them, maybe that feeling will go away.

◃───────────▹

Her grandma dies on day twenty-eight. He won’t get out in time for the funeral.

Tenten and Hinata are staying with her, though. Trying to fill the void of his absence.

Man, he’s still fucking up with her, even from rehab. The thought makes him jittery. Shikamaru’s look is sympathetic.

“Write her a letter,” he suggests. “I’ll take it.”

Kiba stares at the pen and paper for a long time. He doesn’t know what to say.

I’m sorry your grandma died. Sorry I’m still too focused on myself to be there for you.

I’m sorry I’m in here instead of comforting you.

I’m sorry I still think I’m worthy of comforting you.

I’m sorry.

Please wait for me?

He goes to scratch it out, but Shikamaru snatches the paper out from under him right before Margaret’s head pokes in from the hall.

Shikamaru looks at the paper, frowning even more than usual. “Your handwriting’s still shit. I’ll tell her you love her.”

“Don’t.” He feels sick, eyes closing to push past the vertigo. “Don’t.” When he finds Shikamaru’s eyes again, Kiba can barely hold his gaze. “If she doesn’t… I don’t want her to stress out. Not when her grandma just died.”

Shikamaru’s gaze softens. “I’ll tell her you send your condolences,” he offers.

“Yeah. I’d like that.”

◃───────────▹

The end comes quicker than he expected, but he doesn’t mind how good he feels about getting out. It’s… he still doesn’t know what he’s doing. He doesn’t know how to find what he’s searching for, but he knows he can’t find it in a bottle, which is a damn good start.

He’s got time to figure out the rest now that he’s not actively poisoning himself.

Shikamaru said it would be hot the day of his release, so he’s put on the only pair of shorts that hasn’t been ruined by “therapy paint” and a tee shirt that’s seen better days.

It doesn’t matter, though, because it’s not like people usually come out of rehab in a three piece suit. At least, they don’t around here, anyway.

He hopes Shikamaru hasn’t driven the motorcycle to pick him up. It’d be a damn shame to have worked so hard the last few weeks just to end up splattered on the pavement.

Pavement. It’s the first time he’s seen that in a while, and he’s almost unprepared for the parking lot, even as his feet push him toward it.

He freezes, assaulted by sun and heat and shock. She’s there. She’s fucking there in the goddamn parking lot.

He’s stopped breathing. He knows he needs air, but there’s no way in hell he’ll risk disrupting the mirage in front of him.

It becomes less of a mirage when she carefully steps forward as though he’s a stray dog that’s easily spooked. Maybe he is, he doesn’t know, but he does know that she’s wringing her hands together like Hinata does before a fainting spell, and he can’t have that, so he steps forward on unsteady feet to catch her if she falls.

She doesn’t fall. But she’s close. Closer than she’s ever been, and Kiba finds he doesn’t mind being the strong one right now.

“You’re here,” he says. It’s lame. It’s the lamest thing ever. But half of him still believes she isn’t real; he needs the confirmation.

“Shikamaru said you needed a ride.”

His eyes squeeze shut, pain rolling through his chest in waves. Damn Shikamaru spilling the beans. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He wasn’t supposed to grovel and get rejected in the damn rehab parking lot. 

“What?” she asks, unable to resist after the devastated expression he can’t hide.

“It wasn’t suppostta’ be like this. I was gonna buy you flowers before I saw you…” he admits quietly, admonishment spreading between himself and Shikamaru’s lousy attempts at coordinating.

The longing that shoots through him as her face scrunches in that adorable expression of confusion is almost too much to keep him upright. “Why flowers?” she asks.

He licks his lips, she eyes the glint of his snake eye piercing. Some things stay the same. Others don’t. “Your grandma…” he offers helplessly. “I wasn’t there.”

It’s like he’s set off a bomb in all the right ways, telling her exactly what she’d hoped to hear. Her expression crumbles, and she tumbles into him in an instant.

His hands are shaking when they find her hair, her solid body shaking as she cries into his chest. He cries too, head tucked against her.

She’s so fucking beautiful. Their relationship’s been a damn Greek tragedy. He’ll fix everything.

“You don’t need to,” she sobs, and it’s only then he realizes he’d been muttering into her hair. “You don’t need to. Please, just keep trying.”

He holds her like she’ll shatter without him. It’s okay because she holds him just as tightly in return.

◃───────────▹

They’re tentative going forward. It’s a gentle sort of thing. He takes her on real dates. She asks to go on more. They bake normal cookies together on Friday nights, and they have a few indecent make out sessions while the aforementioned baked goods are stuck in the oven. It’s a nice way to live. He wishes he’d started living like this sooner.

But if it were always that easy, maybe he wouldn’t have needed rehab to begin with.

They end up at a party several months after he got out. It’s going fine. He stays away from the kitchen and drinks the Dr Pepper he came with. They came together with a bunch of mutual friends. It was worth coming just to watch Shikamaru fumble and try to look cool flirting with a girl in their Ethics class. Some stories will never be as good conveyed secondhand.

But the longer the night goes on, the more it gets to him. It’s dark and warm and the lights are flashing. He’s thirsty, and he knows the host would let him drink anything, but that requires braving the array of bottles on the kitchen counter, and he knows he can’t.

There are a few discarded drinks on the coffee table in front of him. Those solo cups sound like a damn siren song as the walls start closing in and the conversation around him drags to a standstill.

Man, what he wouldn’t give for a bottle of something. But he can’t. God, he can’t. He runs through the process he learned in rehab: think of what drinking will get you, think of what sobriety will get you. Assess the benefits. Assess your wants.

He wants to marry her, he realizes. He wants to train dogs at The Ranch. He wants to be an uncle to Naruto’s kids—plural, Shikamaru had reported with delight. He wants to be a groomsman at Shikamaru’s wedding someday. He wants, he wants, he wants. But he can’t do any of that if he falls off the damn wagon.

She’s dancing in the center of the room, but the smell of hops and tequila makes him dizzy. He pushes off the couch. It feels like quicksand sucking him in. The carpet is uneven, and he stumbles. He feels like the universe is trying to trap him in this den of hell.

He reaches for her, tucks his head against hers so his lips can find her ear. The smell of shampoo and hairspray invades him, and it’s a welcome respite. “I’m gonna head out.”

She pulls away from him, scanning his face carefully. “Are you okay?”

He nods. It’s not exactly a lie. He’s okay now; he won’t be if he stays.

“I’ll come with you,” she offers, but he shakes his head. She’s having fun with Tenten. Ino’d even let her borrow a dress for the occasion (and, damn, did she look lovely). He’s glad to have come just to see her look so beautiful and carefree. The last thing he wants is to take her away from the fun.

She scrutinizes him again, lashes flicking. “I didn’t eat before we came,” she offers casually. “Let’s go get waffle fries.”

He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. This beautiful, wild woman loves him and wants to leave parties for him, and she’s already seen him at his worst but now that he’s at his best, she loves him even more. His lips find hers in the darkness, hands tangling in her hair, body pressing against her warmth like he’ll freeze without it. The kiss is soft and smooth like honey. She tastes like lemonade, and it’s so damn good.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he whispers, and vaguely he knows that the middle of a shitty party is the most unromantic place to make the confession, but she beams up at him like he’s given her gold. It’s the first time he’s said it sober.

◃───────────▹

It’s three weeks before graduation, and they’re sitting at her kitchen table trying to crunch the numbers for the house they’re planning to rent together. He’s put the numbers in the calculator wrong three times already, so she’s taken over that part.

It’s okay, though, because he’s got enough money from his new job to pay the deposit and buy a couch that doesn’t look like a frat house got ahold of it. It feels nice. Liberating. And she’s already made him promise her favorite quilt will get to be the one draped over the back of the swanky new couch. As though he’d ever say no to that.

He likes seeing her like this. In the kitchen wearing pjs, eyes squinted as she tries to work though the calculations. It feels like home. He can’t get enough of it.

“How much were we factoring in for pet costs?” she asks, breaking him from his trance.

“Uh…” The numbers are a blur at this point. “It was either $4,230 or $4,430.”

“What was that per month?”

He pauses, and she watches him eagerly as he contemplates. “No idea.”

“Argh! The drugs destroyed all your math skills,” she whines, but the smile on her face gives her away.

He smirks. “I never had any to begin with.”

And she laughs, God, she laughs and swats at him. He realizes it sounds like heaven.

Masterlist

A/N: I'm not really sure what this is, but I had fun writing it. Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed! :)

[luvdsc]

august.

Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him.

pairing :: liu yangyang x reader genre :: fluff, angst ⋮ best friend + college au word count :: 10,500 words warnings :: none. playlist :: time lapse (taeyeon) ⋆ 2 kids (taemin) ⋆ daydreams (exes) ⋆ sharing you (lany) ⋆ august (taylor swift) ⋆ too close to love (will hyde) ⋆ sad stripped (lany) ⋆ strangers (taemin) ⋆ the 1 (taylor swift) author’s note :: can you believe that i literally wrote this entire 10k fic in one day aka today ??? whew this gave me the same rush that i got when i wrote my research paper in the class it was due for the day of, printed it out during break, and handed it in at the end of class :’) ↳ part of the almost collaboration series.

Liu Yangyang is jumping fences to escape late night parties, shared laughter over childhood favorite cartoons on February mornings, midnight dancing in the refrigerator light, and November kisses stolen in between the shelves of the nearby 7-Eleven. He is obscure doodles in the margins of your physics notes, good intentions laced in December’s mistakes, strawberry lemonade and broken truths wrapped in summer bliss, and September endings with honest lies.

He is your August, he is your everything, but he isn’t yours.

AUGUST 2018.

August has barely begun to fade away.

You’re eighteen years old, and you’re drunk off of your first taste of freedom, one toe already dipping into the shiny pleasures of adulthood. Your new roommate, Karina, has excitedly told you about the famous beach night themed frat party that kick starts every school year at your university. Everybody who’s anybody would be there, and your heart already races at the thought of going to your very first college party.

“Coral or blue?” Karina holds up a solid colored neon blue bikini and a striped, bright pink one for you to choose between.

“Blue.” You nod towards the first option, and she discards the other one back into the open drawer. You pull out a marigold yellow one and a black one lined with white strings, wordlessly gesturing towards them, and she immediately points to the latter.

“That one is gonna look so cute on you. Well, both would, but I love that one.”

You grin at her, silently thanking whoever decided to pair the two of you together for the random dorming. “Perfect, thanks. Do you know any of the guys hosting the party?”

“Yeah, Dejun? He’s really sweet and a year above us. I met him in the music elective I’m taking.” She turns to take off her shirt and tosses it to the side, pulling on her bikini and wriggling into a pair of ripped jean shorts. “You?”

“Kind of? Jaemin is in my project group in Intro to Engineering. He’s rushing for that frat.” You quickly change out of your outfit and into your chosen swim top and daisy dukes. You make sure to grab a pair of black flip flops from your closet. The bundle of nerves in your stomach grows as you step out of your dorm with your new friend, a bit anxious but also excited to attend your very first party.

Thank goodness for summer weather. It’s still a nice, warm 75 degrees Fahrenheit according to your weather app when you and Karina finally make your way to the frat house. The sun barely begins to set, but the party slash dayger had started earlier and is in full swing. There’s a DJ set up out front, blasting some sort of EDM music, and the lawn is absolutely covered in foam. You see the source of it shakily set up on the roof of the patio along with a couple of boys sitting up there, Hawaiian shirts barely covering their figures. You catch the eye of Jaemin, who happily waves at you from his vantage point, and you wave back at him.

“Oh my god, I love college,” Karina says, grabbing your arm excitedly as the two of you step into the foam. You reach down to pick up some of it before flicking it towards your roommate, who squeals before scooping some up and throwing it in your direction as well.

“Ready for our first shitty college drink?” You pull her through the mass of other students and towards the horribly decorated tiki bar stationed in the corner of the patio.

“Hell yeah, let’s do it.”

The two of you stumble over, still throwing handfuls of foam at each other amidst giggles before making a full stop in front of the bar. The older boy behind the makeshift counter lazily grins at you both, a shell necklace hanging loosely around his neck, and his unbuttoned orange Hawaiian shirt gives you a nice flash of his toned abs.

“Hey, I’m Johnny. What can I get for you two?”

“Two vodka shots, please.”

“Alright, ID?”

You freeze, and Karina’s grip on your arm tightens, and then Johnny laughs, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Relax, I’m just messing with you, freshie. Two vodka shots coming right up.”

He pulls out two small plastic cups and pours out the drinks for you. “How many do you want?”

“This is good for now, thanks.” You and Karina pick up the drinks, smiling a little nervously at him. He flashes another amused smile at you. “Alright, come back anytime if you want another.”

You move away from the patio, and Karina follows close behind. The two of you throw back the drinks and dispose of the empty cups quickly. The burning sensation in your throat disappears after a few seconds, and you turn to your roommate. “Should we find our friends?”

“I think I see Dejun back there! Let’s go say hi, I can introduce you to him.” Karina drags you through the rising foam, the bubbles clinging to your skin, and when you go past the DJ stand, you feel the pounding bass reverberating in your chest harder than ever. You trek past the gate and into the backyard where the foam has risen to your waist, thanks to the enclosed fences. She taps on the shoulder of a boy with the prettiest almond eyes you have ever seen, and you shyly smile at him when he greets you.

“Hey, I’m Dejun.”

Oh my god, even his voice sounds pretty. Older college boys are definitely better and hotter than high school boys. Heck, they’re better than freshman boys. Nobody wants to date a freshman dude, not even the freshman girls.

“Hi, I’m Y/N.” You extend your hand, but then realize how stupid that must be. You hastily start to retract your hand, but he laughs and warmly grasps your hand. Smiling at you, he shakes it firmly, squeezing your hand gently before letting go.

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/N.”

The butterflies in your stomach grow in volume as the conversation goes on, and you’re positively enamored by the end of the night. Karina had given you a look earlier before walking off with Dejun’s friend and joining the dancing crowd. With the addition of his phone number in your pocket and a promise to show you a new song he’s working on with his guitar next Friday, you’re walking on cloud nine.

“Do you want something to drink? I need a refill, and I can go grab you one,” he asks, and you’re about to offer to go with him, but then you remember the teasing upperclassman and simply agree, asking for another shot of vodka.

After he disappears, you look around, eyeing the crowd and wondering if you can spot your roommate anywhere. You bump into someone lightly and turn around to apologize. Your eyes meet a pair of curiously bright ones.

“Sorry about that, I’m looking for my roomie.”

The boy gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. He’s wearing one of those dumb Hawaiian shirts, too, and it’s unbuttoned, but he has a white T-shirt layered underneath it. “No biggie, it’s a massive party and it’s crowded. Who are you looking for?”

“Ah, I don’t know if you know her, but Karina? She went off with this dude, Kunhang, I think?”

His eyes light up at that name. “Oh, I know him! I saw him earlier by the keg stands inside. Your friend might be there, too. I can—”

“THE COPS ARE COMING!” A loud voice bellows, and you freeze up. Suddenly, the music is shut off as everyone starts running away. You start to panic, the terror rising in your chest, and the boy in front of you grabs your hand and pulls you with him. “What are you doing?! Don’t just stand there! We gotta go!”

“Wait, but Kar—” You start to object, but cut yourself off when you bump into his back as he abruptly stops. He scans the backyard, quickly assessing the situation before turning to you.

“There’s way too many people trapped in here, we’re not gonna make it to the gate. We need to climb over the fence. I’ll hoist you up, and you can help me up from there.”

“I don’t even know you,” you protest, and he throws you a look.

“Hi, I’m Yangyang, nice to meet you, I don’t want to get my ass hauled out by the police and continue the icebreakers in jail, so let’s move now. We good?”

“Yeah, okay, we’re good,” you say faintly, mind still whirling around as you try to grasp the situation. “I’m Y/N.”

“Great, now up you go.”

He immediately picks you up without any warning, and you almost fall backwards, arms flailing before you grasp the top of the fence and pull yourself up. Balancing precariously on top of it, you grab his arm, tugging him up until he’s sitting right next to you, too. The both of you swing your legs over the fence and jump down to the other side. You let out a sigh of relief, squatting down as you clutch your heart.

“Oh my god, we made it. I didn’t get arrested at my first party.”

“What an amazing accomplishment.” Yangyang brushes off the back of his shorts. “We aren’t going to jail. Freshman year is gonna be a breeze if your bar is set this low.”

“Hey!” You frown at him, standing up and crossing your arms over your chest. “How do you know I’m a freshman?”

“It’s written all over your face.” You give him a look, and he relents. “Only a freshman would be this scared of getting caught.”

“So are you an upperclassman?”

“Nah, this is my first party, too. I’m rushing for Nu Chi. Hold on, wait here.” He sneaks around the edge of the fence, peering around for a few seconds before jogging back towards you. “Okay, the police are over there. I’m gonna have to wait a while before going back in.”

“You have to go back?”

“Part of tonight’s rush process,” he sighs before turning to you. “Do you live on campus?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna walk back now,” you answer, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “It’s late, and I’m not in a partying mood anymore.”

“I can walk you back,” he offers, and you shoot him a grateful smile.

“That’d be great, thanks.”

The two of you start the trek back, an awkward lull in the conversation making itself known. You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering slightly when a soft breeze picks up. There’s a light rustling noise, and you pay no mind to it until a soft cloth is draped over your shoulders. Eyes widening, you notice the colorful, palm tree-printed button down shirt wrapped around you and the boy next to you, looking straight ahead with his hands shoved into his pockets. Smiling to yourself, you slip on the shirt, loosely buttoning the front of it.

“So, Yangyang,” you casually begin, testing his name on your tongue for the first time. You decide you like it. It’s cute. He turns to you, raising an eyebrow, and you continue, “Since our lives are no longer in jeopardy, we can continue the icebreakers, right?”

His lips curve into a smile. “Alright, shoot. What’s your first question?”

“Captain America or Iron Man?”

“Oh, Iron Man, hands down. He’s so…”

You meet him in August.

FEBRUARY 2019.

“Hey, where’s your cereal? The Reese’s one?”

February marks six months of your relationship with Dejun. It also marks six months of your friendship with Yangyang. It is time for your weekly Sunday rituals of watching old cartoons and eating breakfast, and you could’ve sworn that box was still half full last week. You rummage through the top drawer Yangyang had designated for snacks and other foods in his dorm as he takes out the milk from his mini fridge and carries it over to his desk.

“I ran out a few days ago. There’s Cinnamon Toast Crunch somewhere in there though.”

With a victorious cry, you manage to pull out the slightly crushed box of the aforementioned cereal from underneath the packages of flamin’ hot Cheetos and spicy nacho Doritos and triumphantly bring it over to your best friend. He already pulls out two bowls (which were stolen from the dining hall) and hands over the plastic spoons in his grasp (which was also taken from the dining hall).

“Thanks.” After dropping a spoon into each bowl, you shake out the sugary cereal squares before pouring the milk because you’re not an absolute heathen who puts milk in first, like Sicheng. Yangyang clambers up to his top bunk bed, and you carefully pass over the two bowls of cereal, milk sloshing precariously near the edges. You climb up afterwards, and he gives you your bowl once you settle down.

“So, Scooby Doo or Pokémon?”

“Mm, we watched Pokémon last Sunday already, so let’s do Scooby Doo this time.” He nods in agreement, pulling up the cartoon from the queue in Netflix, and the two of you lean back against the ginormous mound of pillows and stuffed animals of his that occupy nearly half of his bed.

You’re shoveling a spoonful of cereal into your mouth when he casually asks, “So how’re you and Dejun doing?”

Choking slightly, you quickly swallow. “We’re doing good. I think he booked a table at the Italian restaurant down the street for Valentine’s Day. Are you doing anything for Valentine’s?”

“I’m forcing Renjun to come watch that “‘Happy Death Day’ movie with me.” The faint sounds of the Scooby Doo theme song plays in the background as you hum in acknowledgement, mouth twisting into a mischievous smirk.

“That’s so sweet. So who confessed to who? Not gonna lie, I thought you had a crush on Hyuck, not Jun.”

“... I would shove you right now, but I just did my laundry, and rewashing my comforter is expensive and I’m out of quarters.”

You stick your tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes before lifting his bowl up to sip the best part of having Cinnamon Toast Crunch: the milk infused with all the cinnamony, sugary goodness. You let your spoon fall back into your bowl with a soft clink, a sudden worrying thought popping into your head.

“I bought him some customized guitar picks and a pretty composition book. Do you think he’ll like it?”

“That’s a pretty basic gift, isn’t it? It feels like something Kun would get him,” he teases, but his heart falls when he notices you chewing on your bottom lip, spoon held limply in your hand.

“Hey, I’m just joking, of course he would like it. He’s completely whipped. He’ll love anything from you.” Yangyang’s voice grows softer, and he fiddles with a stray thread on his comforter, avoiding eye contact with you. “I know I would.”

He looks up slightly and sees you smiling gratefully at him, eyes shining bright. He quickly ducks his head, turning away slightly to hide the hues of pink blooming on his cheeks. He feels you leaning over to rest your head on his shoulder with a quiet sigh, and his breath hitches in his throat.

“Thanks, Yang.”

Replaying the sight of your smile in his mind makes his stomach flip flop, and he resists the overwhelming urge to tell you you’re pretty, pushing it back into the farthest crevice of his mind.  Your head on his shoulder makes him feel like he’s carrying the entire world, and he doesn’t know what to do. He paints on a tight smile of his own, silently hoping you can’t hear the way his heart nearly pounds out of his chest.

Yangyang knows that having feelings for his best friend, specifically one of his good friends’ girlfriends, is something he absolutely should not be doing, but he can’t help it. His stupid heart refuses to listen to his brain. For now, all he can do is desperately hope that this dumb crush of his goes away soon because while 99% of his friends are oblivious (including you), Ten and Donghyuck are not. They’ll be able to spot his feelings from a mile away, like how Kun always knows when there’s a good sale going on at the Asian supermarket downtown (This week, it was the 50% off bean sprouts and chili paste).

Letting out an inaudible sigh, Yangyang carefully rests his head on top of yours. Clutching the empty bowl with one hand, he shoves his other one under his thigh to stop himself from reaching over and tangling his fingers with yours. He stares at the screen, watching until the bright colors blur together.

“Anytime.”

He likes you in February.

AUGUST 2019.

The earth spins around the sun for another time, and August makes its presence known once again. It’s Thursday night, and you’re sitting on the countertop in Nu Chi Theta’s kitchen, swinging your legs back and forth as Yangyang struggles to make some scrambled eggs because the half filled carton of eggs the two of you managed to find is the only thing that isn’t expired (besides Jeno’s protein shakes, but neither of you are gonna touch that cardboard tasting monstrosity).

“Maybe I should make it.” You peer over at the frying pan, wincing when you see the full damage of your future meal. “Did you use oil?”

“Of course I did!” he exclaims indignantly before pitifully pushing around the nearly charred mess of yolk and whites around with his spatula. “I’m not Mark.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” you mutter, waving your hand around to dissipate the acrid burning smell, and Yangyang throws you a dirty look. He grabs a fork and stabs a small chunk of the eggs. Picking it up, he brings it closer to his mouth before hesitating. His eyes dart to you, and you raise your eyebrows at him, a silent challenge in your gaze. The sad piece of egg hovers in the air for a few more seconds before he defeatedly drops it back into the pan.

“Okay, what if we just Uber Eats some McDonald’s?” Turning off the stove, he then tosses the remnants of his cooking into the trash and drops the pan into the sink.

“Stellar plan. Best idea you’ve had all night.” You hop off the counter to stand next to him, propping your chin on his shoulder to see him pull up the app. He immediately puts in your usual order along with his before holding it up for you to see it better.

“Looks good?”

“Looks perfect.”

He clicks the confirmation button, and the delivery is set to come in 30 minutes. You’re suddenly hyper aware of how close you are with your chest pressed against his back and hastily move away, warmth spreading across your cheeks.

Glancing over at your best friend, you don't miss the way Yangyang smiles down at something on his phone before his fingers fly across the screen. When he looks up, you immediately turn away, focusing your eyes on anything but him.

“Hey, you’re going to the Alpha Sig formal, right?” Yangyang calls out, and you throw on a teasing grin.

“You mean Alpha Sigma Psi, also known as the sorority I’m in?”

“Ah, right, yeah.” He flushes, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “But you’re going, right?”

You nod, the sudden realization creeping up on you. “Oh yeah, I am, thanks for reminding me. I completely forgot to ask, but do you want t—”

“Ningning just asked me to go with her,” Yangyang blurts out, and you freeze, failing to hide your shock for a split second before you regain your composure.

“Oh wow, that’s great, Yang! I’ll see you there then.” You try to give him a convincing smile. He wrings his hands, biting his bottom lip. Something is on his mind. You can tell. He’s not someone to hold back with his words, but this time, he is.

“I… I don’t know if I’m gonna go,” he says at last. Your heart picks up a little at that. Does that mean he doesn’t want to go to the dance at all? Or does he not want to go with Ningning? If you asked him now, would it make a difference?

“I’ve never slow danced,” he confesses, leaning against the opposite counter, and your heart drops. So that was it. Of course, he wouldn’t reject Ningning. She’s an absolute goddess, heck, you wouldn’t say no if she asked you either. You stamp out that last flicker of hope.

“What if I suck at it?” he continues, absentmindedly carding his fingers through his hair. “Oh god, I bet Yukhei and Kunhang are never gonna let me live it down. I can do choreographed dances, but I’m gonna mess up over a stupid slow dance. But where am I supposed to put my hands?! Like on her shoulders? Her waist? Do I hold her hand?”

Your eyes follow the way his hair ruffles slightly, and you wonder if it’s as soft as it looks. You swallow hard before saying quietly, “I can teach you?”

His hand pauses mid-movement, and your eyes fly down to meet his. His eyes widen, and he contemplates your offer for a split second before nodding excitedly. “Yeah, that’d be great! Can you teach me right now? While we wait for our food to come!”

“S-sure,” you stammer, flustered at the sudden acceptance and his eagerness. “Um, here? In the kitchen?”

“Yeah, why not?” He shrugs before straightening up. “The lights should be dimmed, right? We can kind of mimic that here to set the mood or whatever.”

He goes over and fiddles with the light switch, flicking it on and off, and you laugh, walking over and placing your hand over his. “What are you doing? Some kind of Kevin Nguyen mating call to look for a rave bae?”

“First off, I’m offended that you think I’d be one of them,” Yangyang narrows his eyes at you. “Secondly, I’m trying to make this feel more formal dance-y. Oh, wait!”

He turns off the lights for the last time and reaches over to pull open the refrigerator doors, the artificial fluorescent light pouring out and mixing with the faint beams coming in through the window from the street lamps outside. He grins at you, satisfied. “Romantic, huh?”

You roll your eyes, but the amused smile on your face gives away your true feelings. “Wow, Romeo, you swept me off my feet. The food is gonna go bad, and Kun is gonna kill you for the high electricity bill.”

“What food? Jeno’s protein shakes probably never expire.” He snorts before standing closer to you, his hands resting on either side of you on the counter. You can see the pretty gold flecks in his irises, and your breath gets caught in your throat. “And I guess this means you gotta teach me fast before we waste more electricity, right?”

You place your hands on his chest and lightly push him away, and he laughs, stepping back. You let out a shaky breath, remembering that your lungs need oxygen in order to, you know, continue living.

“Okay,” you clear your throat before pulling out your phone and putting on a slow song. “Ready?”

“You chose Ed Sheeran? Thinking Out Loud? Really?”

You raise your hands up defensively. “Hey, he’s the king of sappy slow songs that all girls want to be played at their weddings for their first dance.”

When your legs don't work like they used to before,

And I can't sweep you off of your feet,

Will your mouth still remember the taste of my love?

Will your eyes still smile from your cheeks?

“Is this the song you want played at your wedding?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and your face grows warm. You ignore the question, and this time, you’re the one taking a bold step forward, a few centimeters now separating you and your best friend. You see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps lightly before meeting your eyes.

And darling, I will be loving you 'til we're seventy,

And baby, my heart could still fall as hard at twenty-three,

And I'm thinking 'bout how people fall in love in mysterious ways.

“So, your hands go here.” You take his hands and place them on either side of your waist. His arms freeze up. “Relax, Yang. Precious cargo here.”

He lets out a chuckle, loosening his grip as he starts to relax. You reach up and slide your arms around his neck, interlocking your fingers. You gaze back at him, saying softly, “Now pull me closer.”

He does so.

Maybe just the touch of a hand,

Oh me I fall in love with you every single day,

And I just wanna tell you I am.

“And now follow my lead. We’re going to take one step. And then another. We’re just slowly turning in a circle.”

After a few spins and steps, you stop leading and let yourself be led. Yangyang continues to hold onto you carefully, and you can hear him muttering a 1, 2, 3, 4 count under his breath until he finally gets the hang of it. He grows a little braver, pulling you even closer.

So honey now,

Take me into your loving arms,

Kiss me under the light of a thousand stars.

“Are you going with Dejun?” he asks quietly, and you stiffen at the mention at him before shaking your head.

“No, we broke up in July.”

Yangyang falters in his step before recovering. “Oh. You never told me.”

“Yeah.” You struggle to keep your voice level. “I just… he’s your friend, and I didn’t want to make it weird.”

“You’re my best friend though,” he says firmly, looking you directly in the eyes. His grip on your waist tightens. “It’s his loss. That dumbass just lost the best person who’ll ever come into his life.”

You give him a tired half smile, one that doesn’t quite meet your eyes. He hugs you closer to him, wrapping his arms around your waist and securing you against his chest. You rest your head in the crook of his neck and hope that he doesn’t feel how quickly your heart beats in your chest.

Place your head on my beating heart,

I'm thinking out loud,

Maybe we found love right where we are.

“Thanks, Yang,” you whisper, your breath tickling his skin. He envelops you tightly, and the two of you continue to spin in slow circles, quietly dancing in the refrigerator light as the remaining verses of the song warble in the background.

You think you finally understand what Dejun meant when he said he’s breaking up with you because your heart was already occupied by someone else.

You fall in love with him in August.

NOVEMBER 2019.

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: hey you up?

[ 12:54 a.m. ] yang 🐏🤪: 7/11 in ten mins?

Tiredly rubbing your eyes, you stumble out of your dorm building, one of Jeno’s sweaters draped over your figure. November nights are cold, but this one seems chillier than usual. Yangyang stands near the front steps, and he stiffens up when he notices whose hoodie you’re wearing. He makes no mention of it though when you join him.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” He glances over to you as the two of you walk side by side to the small convenience store just on the edge of campus. You shake your head, shoving your hands into the front pocket of your sweater.

“I was up cramming for midterms. I could use a break anyway,” you shrug. A wisp of your hair falls in your face, and Yangyang starts to reach out to fix it, but forces himself to keep his hand by his side. You reach out to carelessly brush it away, tucking it behind your ear.

“What about you?” You look over at him, noting the bags under his eyes. “Rough night?”

He smiles tiredly at you, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks a stray pebble along the sidewalk. “More like rough week. Two more midterms left, and they’re for electromagnetic theory and linear systems.”

“Oh god, good luck. I took linear systems today, and it was absolutely brutal.” You wince, brightening up when you see the familiar neon orange, red, and green lights up ahead.

“Maybe I should just withdraw and take it again next quarter,” your best friend grumbles, kicking the stone as far as he possibly can.

“You really want another quarter with Hwang?”

“You’re right,” he sighs, “I just need to get a C+ to maintain my GPA. C if I’m pushing it.”

The two of you hurry over to the 7-Eleven, quickening your pace, until you reach the store doors, and you pull them open. Entering quickly, you push the door open slightly wider, and Yangyang slips in behind you. The cashier doesn’t even look up, texting away on his phone. You make a beeline towards the chips aisle, grabbing a bag of flamin’ hot Cheetos and a pack of sour gummy worms.

“What are you getting, Yang?” You call out over your shoulder, eyes zeroing in on the Red Bull stand at the end of the aisle. When you hear no response, you halt in your steps, turning around. Yangyang stands in the middle of the aisle, looking dazed under the fluorescent lights.

Putting your items back on the shelf, you approach him, reaching out and touching his arm gently. “Yangyang, what’s wrong?”

He jerks back before silently holding up his phone for you to see. There’s a slew of text messages from Ningning a few hours ago, and a quick scan tells you all you need to know. Your heart weighs heavily in your chest when you look back at him, a forlorn expression on his face.

“She dumped me,” he says quietly, shoving the phone back into his pocket. “She said our relationship was like a friendship. She didn’t feel anything. She said we could still be friends if I wanted to be though.”

He jabs a large bag of Lays potato chips angrily as his voice raises slightly higher. “But I don’t get it. Do friends take each other on dates? Do friends spend the night? Do friends hug each other and hold hands walking to class? Do friends spend three hundred dollars to do a surprise weekend trip for their birthday?”

He whirls around to face you, and he’s so close that you can see those pretty golden sparkles in his eyes again. Suddenly, his hands are cupping your face, and the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. Your eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they flutter shut, and you press your lips against his. The 90s pop station music playing overhead seems to fade away, and all you can focus on is that your best friend tastes like spearmint gum and grape soju. He pulls away abruptly, the realization of what he’s done finally hitting him as his chest heaves up and down.

“Do friends kiss like this?”

His voice is barely a whisper, but it cuts through the silence. You feel like you’re spinning out of control, a split second from careening and crashing.

“No, we—they don’t,” you mumble, and Yangyang sees the starstruck look in your eyes, and he wants to apologize: to say sorry for kissing you. But he doesn’t. Because for some reason, he doesn’t feel sorry. He closes his eyes, curling his hands into fists before exhaling slowly. He sees you looking back at him this time, and he wonders if you feel as equally lost as he does.

Because you’re right. Friends don’t kiss each other like that. Friends don’t feel like this about each other.

He kisses you in November.

AUGUST 2020.

The sun still shines bright late into the day, and August greets you like an old friend. You’re absentmindedly doodling in the margins of your notebook designated for Quantum Mechanics. Yangyang sits next to you in the lecture hall, making a bunch of origami cranes before tossing them at Renjun’s head right in front of him. When the bird reaches its target for the sixth time in a row, the annoyed boy whirls around in his seat, glaring at your best friend.

“Stop that,” he hisses, and Yangyang innocently raises his hands in the air. Renjun angrily frowns at him before turning back around in his seat. After a few minutes, Yangyang flicks another crane towards his friend. If this was a cartoon, you would see steam blowing out of your friend’s ears. You silently watch as he wordlessly picks up his phone, seething as he presses on a particular number.

Suddenly, Travis Scott’s SICKO MODE starts blasting, amplified by the large auditorium-like room. The professor goes silent, and everyone turns to see Yangyang scrambling to pick up his phone. He fumbles around for a few seconds with it before finally shutting it off and putting it on vibrate mode. Cheeks burning red, he meekly puts his phone back in his bag and squeaks out a “sorry” before sinking down in his chair (You can see the culprit grinning like the cat ate the canary right in front of him. Karma’s a bitch who also goes by the name of Renjun).

You pat his arm consolingly as he sulks next to you for a few minutes, mouth jutting out into a pout. You decide to take pity on him and lean closer to him, whispering quietly, “Would it make you feel better if I bought you boba after class?”

Immediately, he brightens up. “One oolong milk tea, half sugar with white pearls and coconut jelly?”

“Yes, I’ll pay for your overpriced drink,” you huff, thinking about how his one seven dollar drink could buy you a whole rotisserie chicken that’ll last you a week. At least the fluffy dog at Cloudy with a Chance of Boba is cute and fun to play with. “I’ll even get the honey waffle fries.”

“Heck yeah!” he whisper-yells, fist pumping quietly before he suddenly deflates. “Wait, I can’t. I promised Lia I’d get lunch with her.”

Ah, right, there’s Lia now. Yangyang’s new girlfriend: the only other student who went to Düsseldorf, Germany to study abroad over the summer, and inevitably, the two of them became close. All you really know about her is that she’s pretty, she’s in Iota Theta Zeta, and she followed you on Instagram a few weeks ago (of course, you followed her back because of the unspoken best friend and girlfriend policy).

Her page looks carefully curated, and there’s a common pink tinted theme going on throughout her feed. She has over a thousand followers, and it seems like Yangyang fits perfectly in her magazine curated life, judging by how he occupies nearly every picture taken in the summer with her or how he’s tagged as the photographer. You can’t deny that they look good together, pointedly shoving the green eyed monster back under the bed.

You take a peek at your messy Instagram page where you only post pictures when you’re half drunk, so there’s no semblance of uniformity anywhere. You shrug at him, pocketing your phone.

“No biggie. I’ll see if Karina is up for some boba. She’s been holed up in the dance studio already, and it’s only week two of classes, can you believe it?”

“I remember Ten was the same way,” Yangyang hums, eyes fixated on his phone and fingers tapping away. He laughs quietly, lips curling into a pretty smile, and you glance over curiously.

“What’s so funny?”

“Hmm?” Yangyang finally tears his eyes away from his screen for a split second to look at you before another buzz takes his attention away. He’s distracted, lovestruck, and you wistfully smile before turning back to your notes.

“Sorry, what’d you say earlier?” he loudly whispers a few minutes later, and you barely glance up from the large bulbasaur doodle you’re in the progress of completing right next to the chart marking the wave functions for a bouncing ball that you had copied down from the blackboard.

“Oh, I just asked what was so funny,” you murmur, coloring in the flowers you drew around the Pokémon with your blue ballpoint pen.

He looks confused for a moment before lighting up. “Oh! It was just a German joke. It’s not really funny if I translate it though.”

“Got it, no worries.” You notice the professor starting a new example problem, and you abandon your drawing, focusing on the formulas rapidly filling up the chalkboards in front of you. A quiet chuckle echoes in your ears, and you pause in your note taking to look over and see your best friend still typing on his phone. You make a mental reminder to create a copy of your notes for him later on when you pass the library on the way to the dining hall.

“Hey, Y/N.” Yangyang nudges you gently. “Rain check on the boba?”

You offer him a soft smile. “Of course. Anytime.”

He gives you a quick grin in return before his attention returns to the device in his hand—or rather, the pretty girl behind those texts. Your best friend is sitting right next to you, but you’ve never felt so far away. You know distance makes the heart grow fonder, but you don’t think it’s possible to be even fonder of him than you are now. Bad habits are hard to break, and you’ve made a terrible one of loving him. No wonder it’s beginning to hurt so much.

You lose him in August.

DECEMBER 2020.

December is the coldest month of the year, yet it is also simultaneously the warmest with all the holiday festivities it brings. If Yangyang were to choose a month to describe you, it’d be this one. You are a walking paradox, a conundrum he might never solve, an oxymoron come to life. He doesn’t understand how you can be his best friend, yet feel like a stranger; a friend who he wants as a lover; someone who has created such an impact in his life, but disappears seamlessly here and there.

He wonders when you’ve gotten so distant. He wonders why he never noticed the way you seemed to slip away through the cracks until it’s now nearing the end of the year, and the last time he’s seen you in person was before the November autumn break.

But you’re here.

You’re standing right next to the punch bowl filled with spiked eggnog, wearing a garish knitted button down jumper with brightly colored Christmas lights decorating it. It’s perfectly in theme with the Ugly Christmas Sweater party Nu Chi is holding, and Yangyang is beyond ecstatic to know that you’re attending. He had texted you an invite two weeks ago, and you merely reacted with a thumbs up.

Yangyang swears he was going to follow up with you on that, but he got so caught up with midterms, then meeting Lia’s family for Thanksgiving, then studying for finals, and then finally, preparing for this party. Buying enough beer for twenty-three keg stands is a lot more difficult than it seems (Donghyuck’s car broke down halfway during one trip, and they all had to carry back the packs of beers to the house in 40 degree weather in their Sperry boat shoes and Patagonia long sleeves that definitely weren’t cut out for this kind of weather).

His girlfriend is somewhere in the room, wearing the other half of the reindeer sweater she forced him to put on, but all he can focus on is you. He hurriedly makes his way over, skidding to a stop in front of you, and you’re startled before a smile spreads across your face.

“Hey, you, I haven’t seen you in a while.” You grin at him, reaching out to poke the reindeer tail sticking out from the front of his itchy sweater (Lia got to wear the head half of the reindeer, while he was stuck with the behind).

“Yeah, how have you been?” He reaches around you to pick up a cup and pour himself some eggnog. He offers you one, but you decline with a small shake of your head.

“I’ve been doing good, a bit tired with finals coming up, but what’s new?” You joke, grabbing one of the sugar cookies from the table. You’re secretly surprised that they actually have real food (No, Hyuck, Jell-O shots do not count as real food). You suspect Jaemin has something to do with it. He always contributes to the annual Greek row bake sale.

“Are you here with someone? Did Karina come?” he asks, curiosity coating every word. He looks around for your roommate, but she’s nowhere to be found.

You shake your head. “No, I actually came with—”

“Me!”

Yukhei bounds over, slipping an arm over your shoulder. He hands you a new cup of apple cider, which you accept gratefully. He grins happily at Yangyang, who freezes up at the sight of his tall friend. “I asked her to be my date for the party, and she agreed. She also made our sweaters! Aren’t they so cool? There’s even lights that spell my name and play Christmas songs. She did a bunch of cool programming tricks to make them work.”

Yangyang realizes with a start that the two of you are indeed wearing matching sweaters, and that leaves a rather sour taste in his mouth (and it definitely wasn’t because of expired eggnog). The corners of his lips tilt downward as he presses his lips together tightly.

“So… you two are together?” He gestures between you and Yukhei with a forced laugh. Jealousy never did look good on anybody, and unfortunately, he’s not an exception.

“We’re just seeing each other and seeing how it goes for now,” you answer quietly, noting the way your best friend reacts. You have always been good at reading him, and you tread carefully now, not wanting to make a scene. Drunk Yangyang never holds anything back, and he’s had quite a few pre-game shots already (It definitely doesn’t help that he’s a lightweight, too).

“I see. How did you guys meet? Or I guess, start talking?” He attempts to look intimidating, staring down at Yukhei, but it’s a difficult feat to accomplish, especially when he’s trying to stare down a six foot guy who’s more like an overgrown puppy and his friend.

“Oh, she came by for one of your boba runs, but you were still out with Lia. So I asked if I could go with her.” Yukhei flashes his pearly whites at you, and you chuckle, leaning your head against his shoulder.

“I said yes, and we hit it off, I guess.”

“You guess? And you took him on our boba runs?”

“You were out with Lia,” you say defensively, and he blanches when he hears his girlfriend’s name come out of your mouth.

“You could’ve waited,” he mutters, but you still hear it, and you give him a scathing look, finally too tired of this push and pull game that’s been going on behind the scenes for nearly three years now.

“I did. I waited over an hour here for you, but you didn’t show up or even text me that you were gonna be late. Yukhei was nice enough to offer to go with me.”

He stays silent, and you gnaw on your bottom lip, unsure of what to say next. Yukhei looks at you in concern, but you reach up and squeeze his hand reassuringly, which your best friend doesn’t fail to notice, his lips pressing into an even thinner line.

“I don’t understand what the deal is,” you finally burst out, startling both boys. “What’s the big deal about me and Yukhei going out?”

Something inside of him finally snaps. “The big deal is that you’re basically sleeping through my list of friends and then breaking up with them! First Dejun, then Jeno, now Yukhei? Who’s next? Should I give Renjun a heads up? Pencil you into his planner? Or Sicheng?  Sungchan? You have a class with him, so you’re bound to flirt with him, too, right? When are you gonna stop fucking around with my frien—”

He gasps, stopping mid-outburst as he stares at you in disbelief. Apple cider slides down from his hair, dripping onto his face and soaking into his sweater, the sticky juice clinging to his skin uncomfortably. You’re absolutely seething, the empty cup crackling in your clenched fist. Shocked, Yukhei carefully tugs the plastic away from you and places it on the table before replacing it with his own hand, his thumb caressing circles on the back of your hand soothingly. Yangyang doesn’t dare to meet his furious gaze, lifting his chin to look at you instead. The entire room has hushed down by now, all eyes staring directly at the three of you in a mixture of surprise and slight terror.

“Screw you, Yangyang,” you say lowly, voice shaking with anger. Tears form on the edge of your waterline, but you blink them away before hastily brushing a stray droplet from your cheek. “They asked me out. I said yes. We went out. It didn’t work out. We move on. Just like how you’ve gone out with my  friends. And they didn’t work out, so you moved on. So what’s so wrong about that? What’s so wrong about trying again to find love?”

He can’t answer you, curling his hands into fists until his fingernails indent miniature crescents in his palms—until the pain overtakes the feelings that are threatening to spill from his heart. Yangyang may not be yours, but he doesn’t like the fact that he can’t call you his either.

Love. That’s what you want, that’s what you crave, but not if it’s from him. So what is he supposed to do with love that’s unwanted? It’s bursting at the seams, and he has nowhere to hide it anymore.

He loves you in December.

AUGUST 2021.

August sneaks up on you this time around, and you find yourself in Kunhang’s apartment. All of your close friends are here, starting the last year of youth with one final first day party. You think back to that day three years ago: when your eyes met a pair of equally bright ones for the first time.

Curled up next to Yukhei on the couch, you look across the room and meet those very same eyes, although they seem hazier this time around. Lia is wrapped around his arm, and you think it’s quite ironic how both your and his relationships remain the same after all this time. Perhaps you both were bad luck for each other, leading to the other’s demise with short lived relationships. He looks away from you.

The rules of truth or dare are simple. You cannot ask the same person again until three other people have been asked first, and no one can be asked more than three times in each round. And, for reasons you can’t understand, everyone seems to take the code of truth seriously.

“I’ll start,” Kunhang announces, leaning back in one of the several beanbags he has in his place. “Goeun, truth or dare?”

Goeun sighs, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “Dare.”

“You and Mark, seven minutes in heaven.” Hendery points towards the coat closet, and the immediate reaction of hoots and wolf whistles has the girl rolling her eyes. With an exasperated huff, she stands up and pulls a red faced Mark along with her.

“Wait, you gotta pick the next person!” Donghyuck calls out, and she stops in her tracks, throwing open the closet door and shrugging. “You can choose for me.”

With that, she and Mark disappear behind the door, and Donghyuck turns toward the rest of the group, eyes glimmering mischievously. You pay no attention to him, absentmindedly playing with Yukhei’s fingers. You tug one of his rings off his finger, and he smiles, plucking it from your grasp carefully before holding your hand. He carefully slides it onto your right ring finger, but it falls off. Grinning, he pretends to try it on every single one of your fingers until finally settling on your thumb. The ring fits snugly there, and you admire it, wriggling your thumb around.

“Well, look at that. It fits you. I think that means we’re meant to be,” Yukhei says, smiling broadly, and you laugh, interlocking your fingers with his again before glancing down at the silver engraved band resting on your finger. The weight of the metal feels heavy resting against your knuckle.

“Yangyang, truth or dare.”

Donghyuck’s voice cuts through your thoughts, and you instinctively perk up in your seat at the sound of his name before freezing up in your spot. Yukhei squeezes your hand softly, and you tighten your grip around his fingers.

“Truth.”

“You’re no fun,” Donghyuck sighs, slouching back against the armrest. Yukhei leans over and whispers something in his ear before settling back next to you, shifting slightly to wrap his arm around you. Donghyuck lifts an eyebrow at your boyfriend before shrugging. “Okay, here’s an easy one. Are you in love…”

“Yes.”  is his immediate response, and you notice how Lia absolutely preens next to him.

“… with Y/N?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, and you immediately turn your head to look at Yukhei, your eyes growing wide in horror. He looks apologetic, shoulders drooping. “I’m sorry, but just the way he looks at you, it’s so obvious, and I had to know.”

You whip around to face the boy in question. With bated breath, you look at him, but Yangyang stares at the center of the floor, struggling internally. Everyone is quiet, and it reminds you of the calm before a storm. At last, he looks up, gazing right at you, and you can almost swear that you see those pretty little gold flecks in his irises from here.

“Yes,” Yangyang confesses quietly.

There’s almost a collective gasp rippling through the room, and Yukhei lets out an inaudible swear under his breath. Your grip on his hand grows slack as you fumble to get a grasp on the entire situation.

He loves you. He loves you. He loves you.

The words echo in your mind like a mantra until it grows so loud that you can’t hear any of your own thoughts anymore. Lia is in absolute hysterics, demanding an explanation from him, but he merely shrugs her off. Standing up, he quickly moves to leave the room, glancing at you one more time before disappearing out the front door.

It’s like your body is on auto-pilot after this. You drop Yukhei’s hand, immediately standing up and rushing after your best friend, paying no mind to the hushed whispers that only seem to increase in volume once you leave. You step out onto the porch, and there he is, sitting on the steps.

You quietly stand behind him, contemplating what to say and carefully choosing your next words. But there’s only one question on your mind.

“Why did you say that?”

He stays silent for a moment, staring out at the moon shining brightly ahead. “Because I meant it.”

Your heart wrenches in your chest. “You shouldn’t.”

He finally turns to look at you, an indescribable look in his eyes. It reminds you of heartbreak. “But I do. And I tried not to for the past three fucking years, but I can’t anymore.”

“Since freshman year?” You feel the tears well up in your eyes, and this time, you let them go. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Yangyang grips onto the edge of the stairs tightly, frustration ringing with every word that falls from his mouth. “Because I was scared. And I thought you never felt the same way. You’re my best friend, and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Yang…” You whisper, hand reaching out as you let it hover over his shoulder for a few seconds. Then, you pull back, curling your fingers into fists, pressing crescent indentations into the palms of your hands.

He stands up, whirling around to look at you, desperate. “Tell me I’m not too late. Please, Y/N.”

Something inside of you breaks. You open your mouth and start to say something when the door opens behind you. Turning around, you see Yukhei. His eyes widen when he sees the two of you standing there.

You know this is it. This is the moment. This is where you have to decide.

“I, I was just looking for you. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.” Yukhei awkwardly rubs the back of his neck, taking a step back. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna go back in and—”

“No, wait, it’s okay,” you gently interrupt him. You reach out and slip your hand into his, and he relaxes, giving you a relieved smile. You smile softly back at your boyfriend before turning to face him, eyes apologetic.

“I’m sorry, Yangyang.”

He and you are asymptotes: two lines curving towards each other, but never touching; two hands reaching towards each other, but never interlocking; two people tangling their red strings of fate, but never tying.

You give him one last glance before going back inside with Yukhei.

You break his heart in August.

SEPTEMBER 2021.

September is supposed to be a new beginning: the transition from summer to autumn. Yangyang doesn’t think he can let go of you as easily as the trees shed their green for gold and red. Wherever he goes, wherever he looks, little reminders of you bloom in every crevice. You’re absolutely everywhere and nowhere, and it drives him crazy.

He thinks he’s gone completely insane when he hears your laugh while he’s walking to the laundromat one day. He shoves his airpods in and continues on his way until he sees you. Walking across the street, there you are. You’re on the phone with someone, and he contemplates going over to say hello. But suddenly, you’re hanging up the phone and waving eagerly at someone. When he turns his head to look, his heart drops and gets buried six feet under. He hurriedly ducks into a nearby bookstore and watches as you run up to Yukhei, slipping your hand into his like it’s second nature to you now. The two of you walk off together, and Yangyang is left standing at the window of the store until the shop owner politely asks if there’s anything he needs.

He doubts a time machine is something they have in stock, so he silently shakes his head and steps out onto the street once again. It is now silent and empty.

He loses you in September.

AUGUST 2022.

A lot can change in eleven months.

You’re twenty two years old, but you feel like you’re eighteen again. You know you’re going to see him for the first time since September at Kun’s housewarming. You had repeatedly assured Yukhei that you’d be fine. After all, life goes on; the world doesn’t stop just because you had a falling out with your best friend, even if it may have been a little more than that. Nevertheless, a year has nearly passed. Time is known to be the best healer, and perhaps your heart has shed its old skin and habits.

Your hand is safely enveloped in Yukhei’s, and the two of you walk towards your older friend’s new apartment. He playfully swings your interlocked hands back and forth, and you giggle, tightening your grip around his fingers. You stop in front of the door, the muffled sounds of a party slipping through the cracks. You suck in a breath, shoulders tensed. He’s in there.

“Are you okay?”

Yukhei squeezes your hand gently, voice laced with concern. You remember to breathe, exhaling slowly and relaxing before nodding. You smile up at him. “I’m okay.”

“If you want, we can go back home now, have another NCIS marathon, and drink this by ourselves.” Yukhei waves around the nice bottle of wine the two of you had brought for Kun. “We can even stop by the convenience store and get some ramen.”

You laugh quietly, the corners of your lips upturning with mirth. “It’s okay, I’m fine, Yukhei, I promise. Plus, I have you, right?”

He brightens up at that, practically beaming at you, and your heart skips a beat. “Right!”

You reach out and knock on the door. Kun greets the two of you, and you enter his apartment. Yukhei still doesn’t let go of your hand, and you follow behind him as you weave your way through the living room, greeting some of your friends. You hear Kunhang calling out to your boyfriend from the kitchen and feel him hesitate next to you. You squeeze his hand gently before letting go and nudging him in the direction of his friend. Yukhei gives you one last look, but you wave him off, smiling goodnaturedly and silently assuring that you’re okay. He swoops down and leaves behind a soft kiss for you before going.

You walk over to the alcohol table, pouring yourself something to drink. Leaning against the wall, you take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting over the rim of your cup and slowly scanning the room. It feels like forever, like everything is moving in slow motion, like the world is submerged underwater, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds.

You find him easily. After all, it’s hard to forget someone whose features you’ve memorized over the past four years. Your eyes map the delicate outline of his face once more, and for a moment, you wonder if red is still his favorite color, or who he shares a carton of Ben and Jerry’s with nowadays. You wonder if he thinks of you sometimes, too.

But then, you wonder where Yukhei is. You search around until you see your boyfriend still standing in the kitchen, laughing at something your mutual friend said. Your eyes soften when you see him grab your favorite snack. You turn back around, your heart swelling in your chest tenfold, and your lips curl upwards, an endeared expression on your face.

That’s when you notice that he’s looking at you.

You brace yourself, waiting for the tidal wave of emotions to wash over you and the quickening of your heart rate to greet you like an old friend. Because that’s what always happens when you’re around him. After all, he is the biggest what-if in your life. He is someone you almost loved forever, someone you almost stayed for.

And yet, nothing happens. You wait a little longer. The world still goes round, and you’re still breathing. There’s no shortness of breath, no erratic heart palpitations, no sweaty palms, absolutely nothing. Liu Yangyang is a stranger in a familiar body, and your heart remains still.

You give Yangyang a faint smile, nodding towards him, and it feels like a sudden jolt in his heart. Time stops, and all he can see is you. You look beautiful. You have always been beautiful. This is his chance. Whatever higher entity out there has taken pity on him and given him a second try to make it right. He finally takes a step towards you, and the tender, encouraging expression in your eyes gives him the strength to take another one. After all, the eyes are the windows to the soul. Clutching his drink in hand, he pushes his way through the crowd. He’s only eight, seven, six, five steps away from you now. A smile grows on his face as relief curls around his heart like a bandage. You’re standing there, waiting for him, smiling at him.

And suddenly, you’re no longer looking at him.

You stopped looking at him.

Yukhei makes his presence known next to you, excitedly chattering about something and gesturing towards the kitchen as he hands you something to eat. It’s a snickerdoodle cookie. Your favorite. Your eyes are fixated on the tall boy, positively sparkling as you beam at him.

Yangyang feels like he can’t breathe. The bandage is ripped off, and all he can feel is excruciating pain like a thousand pinpricks into his heart before the numbness hits. He freezes, rooting himself in that spot on the scratched hardwood floor as his colleagues and friends continue to jostle around him. As his world crumbles around him, he can’t tear his eyes away from you. They stay on you, the barest traces of nostalgia lingering in the dimmed golden flecks of his irises that you had still admired all those months ago. It’s like he’s trapped in a silent film, stuck in a fish bowl and swimming in circles, and he watches in horror as you outstretch your hand and intertwine your fingers around Yukhei’s, leaning up to press your lips against his tenderly. Your boyfriend looks at you like you hung the stars in the night sky yourself (He would believe it if you said you did).

You don’t look at him like that anymore.

Yangyang remembers when you used to. When you used to love him. When you were almost his. He feels something inside of him break for a second time.

The world continues to spin, and yet, he’s still not moving. He’s stuck in quicksand, sinking deeper and deeper as everyone around him moves on—as you move on. He desperately tries to keep you in his view, and his feet finally pick up as he lurches forward. He’s not fast enough. You’re slipping away, walking away from him, hand in hand with Yukhei, disappearing around the corner of the hallway, and he can’t do anything about it. It’s too late. He’s too late. The sticky remnants of cheap beer run down his wrist, and it finally registers in his mind that he had crushed the flimsy plastic cup in his hand sometime in between now and then. In a crowded room full of people, he’s left standing there, alone and lonely.

Almost is the worst way to love someone, Yangyang bitterly realizes. It hurts to lose someone you almost love. No, it was never an ‘almost’. He most certainly loved—loves—you. And it should be impossible to lose someone who was never his to begin with, yet he has. All this time, he thought he had you, but it had always been the other way around.

He was your August, he was your everything, and he is yours.

But you will never be his.

You let go of him in August.

[bakugohoex]

“good girl, spread your legs more, you want me to make you feel good?”

pairing: katsuki bakugo x female reader

cw: aged up, nsfw (corruption kink, age gap, fingering, nipple play, biting and sucking, kissing, praise, virgin reader, unprotected consensual sex, office sex, finger sucking and jaw grabbing), talks about men being perverted as well

word count: 4,000+

information: corruption collab hosted by @ultimate-astridwriting​

a/n: had such fun writing this, hope you guys enjoy this and check out the collab to see the other fics

summary: in which bakugo has always been infatuated with the pure guise you put on, when you come to his office late at night, how can he not resist the temptation of ruining something so sweet?

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

He hated it, hated how in a single look you could have him under a spell. You were supposed to be his sidekick, his little pure sidekick. But the way you sauntered throughout the office in the early morning of June made him think of you differently, think of how those pure eyes had something so much more to them. He watched how the tight leotard fitted just above your hips, he had often seen the other sidekicks stare at your body.

He knew you never meant any harm with your costume, it made it easier for you to use your quirk and stay regulated by the commission. The way the top of your collars were open showed a glimpse of your chest as the short sleeves made your arms almost glisten in the sunlight. Bakugo played with the pen in his hand as he watched you smile happily with some other much older sidekicks.

Ever since you arrived a couple months back, it seemed like every single member of Bakugo’s agency had fallen under your innocent guise. But how pure could one little girl be, hell you were only a couple years younger than the man, but the fresh face you brought to his agency was an unknown presence.

Sidekicks seemed to fan around you, love every part of you. You spoke with such purity, as if you’d never experienced anything adult ever. You chuckled at some idiot's joke as he continued to stare, leaning back in his chair as the vest top allowed his arms to breath. Bakugo hated the look of lust his sidekicks gave; you were supposed to be his little sidekick nobody else’s. What gave them the right to look at your vulnerable self and think they deserved to even talk to you?

He watched as you walked closer to his glass doors, you easily dismissed the men who surrounded you as soon as you knocked on his door. “Come in.” He muttered, dropping the pen as you gave a soft smile to the man.

“Good morning Sir, I collected your mail as I arrived.” He hadn’t noticed the envelopes in your hand, hearing the formalities that he hated as you stood at the door waiting to be told to sit down.

He put his hand out for the mail you so kindly collected from the side; it was never your job, but you seemed to always love helping the man. “Sit.”

You followed his order passing the mail as you sat straight, legs clenched together and hands sitting on your thighs. Such a pretty picture he knew how men would long to have a woman like you waiting for them like this. He shook his head skimming through the mail, some from other hero agencies, some other shit he didn’t care for. “Is this all, Sir.”

“I told you not to call me that.” He scowled sternly.

“Sorry Si…Bakugo.” You quickly stuttered on your words sitting firm as his gaze looked you up and down.

He chucked the mail to the side, leaning on his arms to get a closer look at you, “you can leave now.” The presence you brought about was sickly, he almost felt disgusted being around you, but it was something he craved to fix. He wanted to ruin that smile, ruin the makeup you wore, ruin your thighs and neck.

You quickly nodded your head before walking out of the door, but you stopped at his door frame, “Bakugo.” He looked up to meet your gaze again, “you’ll be coming to the dinner tonight.”

It wasn’t a question rather than a plea for him to attend, one of his sidekicks was having a birthday dinner and he had so kindly asked everybody to attend along with some of his own friends. Bakugo looked back down at the papers before meeting your eyes again, “some shitty extras birthday is the least of my problems.”

It was all you needed to hear for you to leave his office, he watched you walk away almost sad that the man wasn’t attending. It was your first time getting together with your colleagues and Bakugo wasn’t attending. You had heard about the rising pro hero when he had just freshly graduated UA and you were in middle school, ever since you’d become infatuated with the man.

He had a shitty personality from his teen years but as you watched him grow and heard the UA teachers speak highly about the famous graduating class who had fought villains since their first year. How could you not respect the man and now getting the opportunity to be around him, work alongside him made your heart beat harder.

The day went by without any more word from Bakugo, he went on patrol with some of the older sidekicks whilst you got stuck with other fresh recruits on your own little patrols. Bakugo had noticed the tense look you gave him; he was going to attend the dinner, but he really had just wanted to see your reaction. The way you didn’t meet his eyes when he walked past you, but as soon as he wasn’t looking you’d stare longley at the man. Bakugo had to admit that your quirk was exceptional, the way you easily fought villains on one of the first patrols he’d been on with you was amazing. He saw the raw talent you had for this, the way you’d be able to move past being a sidekick and create your own agency.

Bakugo truthfully knew that you’d become a lot bigger than he was at 19, that your talent would be noticed, and he’d lose you. His eyes skimmed to the darkness in front of the panned-out glass, he saw how most had left for the dinner and others had left for their own patrols. He watched how the sky was filled with bright lights, the way each building housed another story. He heard a knock making him turn, he had expected you to have left by now but instead you were standing in your normal clothes, the short skirt and tight shirt that made your figure show even more than he had expected.

It was the first time he had ever been alone with you, even in his office there had always been watchful eyes staring at the interaction with the angry pro hero and the sweet sidekick. It sounded cliché in his head, but he watched how you stayed beside the door frame encase he told you to fuck off.

“Bakugo.” You whispered softly, he saw how your bag was held tightly in your other hand, you had a small smile as you looked for any sign he was letting you inside.

He beckoned you inside, watching how you stayed in full view of him, he hadn’t realised how tight your shirt actually was. How it accentuated your chest to make them almost spill out of your shirt, he hated the thoughts that skimmed through his head. For years, his only thought was to become the number one pro hero, of course he wasn’t a virgin, having had many one night stands in his time. But the lust he had for you, for you to be pushed against the glass of his office made his head spin in excitement.

“What do you want?” He questioned as he watched you take a seat in front of him, he licked his lips waiting for an answer as you dropped your bag to the side.

He waited for an answer, you soft eyes giving him a tender look that he wanted to ruin. He craved to have you in his arms, on his cock but you spoke some sweetly like a pure virgin would, so careful with your words. “I didn’t want you to be alone on a Friday night.”

It was sweet, sickly even how you took pity on him. He hated it, giving you a snare as you looked down, he was about to speak when you continued, “I didn’t want to go to the dinner without you.” His eyes almost softened as your own did, but he regained his composure tapping his finger against his thigh as he looked at your smaller fragile frame.

“Why?” It was a simple question, but you seemed unable to answer it, he watched as you stayed in thought thinking of an answer, but he beat you too any response, “scared to be without me, aren’t you baby girl.”

His words seethed with malice, you felt mocked and disgraced you were unable to form the words to say he was wrong. Because he wasn’t, you were scared to be without him, scared to be in a room with men who had eyed you up on multiple days. He saw the worry that flashed as you tensed up, were you really that scared to be left in a room with them. He sat up moving to stand in front of his desk as he leaned against it, arms muscles on show as you didn’t meet his eyes.

“I should go.” You spoke hesitantly, but he leaned forward, hands on the chair as he trapped your body between his own.

His breath skimmed onto your face as he stared down at your fragile self, you were a pretty little porcelain doll for him to break. He moved one finger to touch your chin forcing you to look at him, you finally met his gaze feeling so small in front of him. “Bakugo.” You breathed out heavily, he imagined this breathless was from him pounding into you making him groan in frustration.

“What is it, spit it out princess?” He was toying with you, every word filled with a lust to ruin you in a matter of seconds.

His finger forcing you to look at him as your breath was heavy, “I didn’t want to go, they make me all uncomfortable.” It was a confession of the fear that you had to the men, Bakugo looked down, his eyes glazed with a type of discomfort at your own comment.

“I’ll tell them to stop.” He was going to stick by his word, but it was more for his own sake then anything else. He wanted them to stop so only he could have you, only he could think disgustingly dirty thoughts of you. You nodded but his finger stayed firm on your chin, “do you want me to stop?”

His question brought you to think of the prior actions of the past couple of months. They way he’d bark orders to the sidekicks whenever he saw them getting too handsy with you, the way he’d stand in between you and another man letting you beside him only. The way that he allowed you into his office without a growl to tell you to fuck off, it all came down to this moment. He may have not explicitly stated he wanted you like the others, but it had always been a lingering feeling.

“I don’t.” You shook your head looking at his lips, he licked them before grabbing your jaw up making you stand up. He let go of your jaw, the lingering miss of his touch as he went and sat on his chair, the way he spread his legs, his arms ready to divulge into you made you squirm.

He patted his lap, as you followed his instruction, your skirt riding as you situated yourself on his lap. One arm around your waist as the other skimmed down your mouth to your jaw and that’s when the question occurred. The one where you could decide if this was what you really wanted, “you want me to fuck you baby girl?”

You looked down at his lingering hands ready to either leave your chest or caress every part of your body. “I want you.” It was a whisper and Bakugo gave a soft chuckle at how stupidly quiet you’d gotten.

“Speak up, doll, or I’ll have to leave you to sort yourself out.” He was dead serious in his comment waiting for a proper reply to the question.

“I want to do this.” You spoke more loudly; his hand cupped your breast from on top of the shirt as his other hand gripped your side before his lips met your own.

Your hands moved to his cheek, kissing him softly but he had other ideas. He brought your body closer, wanting to feel your cunt clench against his thigh as he kissed you. His tongue gliding inside at the sign of one of your moans, one of your hands moving to grab the back of his neck.

You knew you had to tell him, it’d be wrong of you if you didn’t and it would make him know that you weren’t just looking for a hook-up. As you let go of his hair, your hand still around his neck as you breathed heavily into his mouth you confess something that could end whatever this was. “I’m a virgin.”

“I assumed.” He spoke moving his mouth to your neck, he hadn’t even thought to care about it, he was going to have you if it was the last thing he’d do.

You gave a soft moan as your hands played with the ends of his blond locks, “and you don’t care?” You questioned as his teeth nibbled on your neck, the sound of sucking and his tongue lapping against your neck heard throughout the room.

“Should I?” He had been admiring the purple bruises across your neck too care about the look of worry you had on your face, “my pretty little Y/n, what did you think I’d be so crude as to take your virginity and not want something else from you.” He moved his mouth to your ear sending a shiver down your spine as he continued, “once I fuck you and you cum on my cock, this cunt belongs to me and only me, okay?”

“Okay.” You replied obediently, Bakugo couldn’t wait to ruin you.

He went in for another kiss, watching how one hand rested on his bicep as your other landed on his chest. “You're gonna be a good girl for me.” He spoke parting ways as he took the shirt off of your body, seeing how you face flushed at feeling exposed. “Don’t hide yourself, pretty girl, I’m going to make you feel so good.”

Bakugo knew how scared you must feel knowing this was your first time in an unconventional setting, but even then he wanted to make it good for you. Make you remember your first time as something amazing that brought you pleasure rather than the pain of it all.

You nodded as you moved your hands away, his mouth moving to your neck as his tongue licked right down to where both your breasts parted. He unclipped your bra, the snap making you look down to meet his eyes as he sucked on one of your hand nipples. You could almost feel your underwear begin to soak through, glad Bakugo was wearing the baggy trousers.

The sucking of your nipples filled the room before, he let go easily bringing you up onto the desk. He saw how your skirt lifted up, exposing the cotton underwear he had been wishing to see. Your back rested against the hard wood as he looked at you with watchful eyes, “good girl, spread your legs more, you want me to make you feel good?”

“P…please make me feel you.” Your words echoed in his ear as he dragged the skirt down your legs, chucking it on the floor before moving your underwear to the side. Slick coating the fabric as he dipped his fingers into your clit, it sent a shiver as you tried to hide a moan by biting your hand. His hand moved to grab it away, holding it down as he brought his chair closer to your exposed body.

“Pretty, pretty thing, you going to let me ruin you now, let me stretch you out.” You were ever so submissive, so eager as he strung you along with every word.

His fingers moved past your clit as it circled your cunt, before divulging your insides. He let two fingers begin pumping back and forth as he watched how your heavy moans filled the room. He knew that if someone came walking into the doors both of you would be caught but why should he care. It's his agency and you were his pretty girl.

“Katsuki.” The way his name rolled off your tongue sent a surge for more from Bakugo as he inserted a third finger pumping in and out through the slick.

He heard the way you moaned heavily gripping his other hand whilst your other gripped the edge of the table. He continued with his actions, before feeling your cunt clench against him, “you want to cum princess, cum on my fingers…go on.” The coil inside of you had almost felt pressured to release at his words.

You’d never cummed before and the feeling that came with it brought you on a high, he watched you give a hefty moan of his name and a swear before gushing right onto his fingers. “You gonna keep this all inside.”

It was a command you’d happily follow as his fingers were still coated in slick. You looked eagerly at his fingers that he was about to put in his mouth, but the way you looked at them, in an instant he knew what you wanted. “Dirty thing aren’t you, you want to taste yourself.” Bakugo sucked one of the fingers leaving the other two coated in you, saliva went down the third before he stuck all three into your mouth.

You sucked the cum and spit from his fingers feeling like a whore for doing something like this, Bakugo enjoyed the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his fingers. As much as he wanted to feel your mouth on his cock, for your first time he wanted to please you and make the innocent girl not so innocent anymore.

His fingers came out with a pop as your cunt leaked out cum onto the table. He took his vest off, your eyes widening at the true extent of Bakugo’s body before he undid his trousers. You could already see the bulge, but you had no idea it was truly a good size cock. Anything could satisfy you at this point, he watched how you leant against your elbows watching him strip. It felt like your very own show, his eyes lingered across your frame, the smell of cum and sweat soaking the air.

He chucked his trousers to the side before doing the same with his boxers. His blushed tip and much larger cock twitched upwards, he pumped up and down as precum dribbled down to his thighs. You knew that what he had was a lot larger than average, your mouth watered as you felt an urgency to have it inside of you.

“Please…inside me.” You could barely even speak, Bakugo smirked at the effect he had on you aligning his cock right to where your cunt was.

“So needy, keep begging.” His cock lingered in place as he waited for more.

You mewled more pleas before he heard something that made his cock twitch, “please…Sir, please I’m your good girl.” You spoke through a broken voice as you had begged for his cock.

“This is going to hurt.” You knew it would and as he  began to push his cock inside of you, tears welled up as they trickled down your face, black mascara staining your eyes as he felt a sadistic enjoyment from this. “There you go, let me all the way in, pretty girl.”

His praise meant the world as he was glad to have stretched your cunt out with his fingers prior, but even then the extent of how much you could take was limited. He felt suffocated around you as you continued to sob, Bakugo bent down to meet your eyes. “You’re doing so well baby.”

He wiped the tears as he kissed you again, he wanted to fill you right up before thrusting, make you feel suffocated and filled up. It would get rid of the pureness, get rid of everything innocent that men had been attracted to. “I’m…doing good.” You whispered through the kiss, loving and appreciating the praise you were getting.

His hands cupped your cheek as he gave you a smirk, “you’re doing amazing baby girl.” He kissed the side of your jaw as he felt all of him stuff you full. “You ready?”

“Yes Sir.” You whispered back hands locking into his hair as one of his hands had gripped your thigh to bring it up. The much easier access had allowed for him to begin thrusting in and out of your cunt, slick and your previous cum helping him as he felt swallowed inside of you.

Bakugo knew how he was with sex, brash, fast and lustful but at this moment with you. He was nothing but loving and caring, making sure you felt pleasure. He met your eyes, how you looked at him with such admiration before you leant forward through his thrusting, “You okay?”

You gave a small moan at his question as the pain had turned into pleasure, each thrust ridding the pain. You knew why you had stayed a virgin for so long, you were waiting. You didn’t know who for, but at this moment in time, you knew it had always been for Katsuki Bakugo.

“Fuck.” You whispered as his pace quickened, he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head as he felt himself touch the back of your uterus. The way his cock had left a bulge into your stomach as he was able to see himself fill you entirely, “fa…faster.”

He obeyed your wish as he thrusted faster and deeper, every moan making him groan loudly in your ear. “Doing…doing so well princess.”

His leant his forehead against your own as you both took in each other’s presence, his thrusts becoming sloppier as your moans became louder. “You gonna cum on me.” You nodded eagerly as even though you felt tired you still had the strength to look right up into Bakugo’s scarlet eyes.

You felt the coil in your stomach re-release as cum gushed out in one hefty swipe, “fuck Katsuki…” You breathed heavily, tears flooded down, mascara ruined, hair dishevelled. Bakugo continued to thrust waiting for his own oncoming high, he knew he hadn’t used a condom but at this moment he wanted to fill you right up.

“Can I?” He whispered into your ear, trailing kisses down your neck to your collarbones, his thrusting leading to squelches forming in the room.

“I’m on the pill.” He didn’t bother asking why, even though through your moan and rolled out eyes he could only assume it had something to do with your quirk. You laid on the table, moaning as Bakugo thrusted back and forth, you felt empty but the love and passion he had as he groaned your name at every thrust brought you pleasure.

His mouth moved to suck on your collarbone, the more bruises to show who you belonged to. Your hands moved to his back as long scratch lines formed until you felt Bakugo cum right inside of you. The feeling of being filled to the brim as even more cum was being stuffed inside of you, you had heard him moan your name as his head was on the crook of your neck.

“You did so well baby girl.” He whispered, slipping his cock back out as he looked at your body and face. He grabbed your jaw to make you look at him again, “this well tell those stupid extras to not look at what’s mine.”

You softened at his possessiveness as you felt him give your temple a sweaty kiss. His lips lingered as he admired how you looked. The pure innocent girl that had arrived in his office would be leaving as the cum filled stained girl that now belonged to him.

i’d really appreciate if you guys could leave a like, reblog or comment, thanks x

if you guys want to be a part of a tag list, just reply to any post and i’ll add you xx

@samusimp​ @alaina-rose13​ @crispychannie​ @underratedmage​ @jennammaee @cathy8taffy​ @sugacious @moonlightaangel​ @kat-sukis-hoe​ @effmigentlywithachainsaw​ @swankiifiied​ @maat-the-prescriptive​ @missmultifangirl @tvwhoresblog @kuroos-world​ @levisfilm​ @katsuhera​ @answer-the-sirens​ @animexholic​ @wapbenders​ @the-shota-king-masayuki​ @bakugousmrs​ @crystal-lilac​ @dai-tsukki-desu​ @fandomsinthegalaxies​ @crimsonbows-and-arrows​ @admin-in-residence​ @otterlockholmes​ @gabrann​ @zlatanakermann​ @c0urtn3y​ @bakuhoesworld​

[bowiebond]

I'm like enamored by your Harringroveson post where Billy sees Eddie and Steve and the whole gang on the beach etc

And in true spirit of meowmoewfication and angst I raise you this (it's very long but it felt wrong to add it onto your post or make my own even tagging you, sorry):

Because of most of their jobs, the gang has more or less moved to Cali, and they are all more or less friendly and willing to hang out with Billy and take him into their polycule circle

So he starts to hang out with them, pinning over Eddie and Steve like a freaking teenager, according to his inner monologue, (not knowing that they are kind of trying to come up with a way to ask him if he would like to join them) until one day there's some kind of necessary for plot miscommunication happening. Billy ends up kind of snapping, getting back together with an ex of his (Steve and Eddie go like oh alright:C but Max is totally like <_< this dude looks like Neil...). Which, of course, doesn't go well, and ends in a huge fight in Billy's apartment when the guy wanted Billy to stay with him because his family was visiting his wife's family for the day or something, but Billy had already made plans with Steve and Eddie to go hang out, and he really wanted to go

When Billy didn't show up when they agreed and even an hour later, Eddie and Steve start to worry and try to call him, but can't reach him, so they end up going to check his apartment first

They come to see a door that is hanging open and the single room mostly trashed with Billy sitting on the floor with a bit of blood on his face, eyes all red but not crying

And initially Billy startles at their voices calling him but then he's like oh sorry yeah I don't think I can hang out tonight, I couldn't call because my phone kind of broke (it was in fact in pieces) you should go out without me, maybe next time

But Eddie and Steve stay, and help him clean up and even change the locks (very fast actually) because his ex had a key, and make sure he doesn't need to go to the hospital and get food and everything and then even stay the night mostly trying to convince Billy to press charges (they still fail)<3

💙 billyhargrovesupsidedownshadow

screaming, crying, throwing up I -

Hurt me more, please, um, and also: feel free to add to my posts, I love that shit <3 especially from mutuals <3

I imagine his ex keeps bothering him but the boys are always around now, either both or just one of them, checking on him, bringing him his favorite snacks because 'oh you know, I saw them, thought you might like it, and stuff *blushing like an idiot*', and hosting movie nights with everyone.

Neither are against throwing hands either, so more than once, Steve has taken a swing at Billy's ex for talking shit, but Billy doesn't like him fighting his battles or causing 'more trouble', so his ex always gets away scott free.

Thankfully, one day Eddie and Steve finally get the balls to ask Billy out as a couple and he is ecstatic, if a bit scared that it might all go downhill, like he's the one who turns all his partners nasty. He doesn't want Steve and Eddie to reach a breaking point with him, because he's needy and clingy and gets frustrated so easily. He doesn't want them to turn around one day and realize they made a mistake, that Billy deserves every strike he got from his line of shitty exes and more.

They never do, they adore Billy, and with time he realizes they're not going anywhere, not unless Billy asks them too. And Billy will never ask them that <3

(And yeah, he gets the final punch in with his ex, kicks him to the curb, and the guy finally gives up after that)

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

��Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok���s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

[beann-e]

“ honestly Suna sometimes it feels like your just sitting there — calculating — thinking of ways that you can piss me off” you let out in a huff of anger as you slammed your hand onto the arm rest placed in the middle of the car. Voice loud enough to be heard from a mile away and then some “ And then you don’t even fucking care “

“ I’m sorry you feel that way “

“ seriously ? seriously Suna “

“ oh I’m sorry would you like me to say it jokingly? “

The silence that towered over the both of you was tall and it wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon “ WELL WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY “ his hand came up to run down his face as he sighed

“ look I'm sorry baby but — “

“ but nothing — I'm tired Rin—I'm tired of you screwing with me“ you groaned “ honestly at this point just fuck off “

he moved to pull the keys from the car unbuckling his seatbelt and opening the car door as your jaw hung open “ what the fuck Suna — “

“ I'm fucking off you ungrateful bit—“

“ you asshole — all of a sudden you take everything literal right ?? huh only when you want to right “

“ y’know what— no you fuck off —ok y/n “

“ see that’s what I'm talking about “

“ honestly I doubt you even know what you were talking about in the first place “

your steps quickened as you followed after the male who stopped at your front door imputing the code and opening your house door “ This is what I mean by you keep fucking with me Suna “

“ oh “ he moved to sit down on the couch arms flung behind it and legs spread wide out in front of him. “ is it really— because , the 40 minute argument in the car about your best friend hitting on me didn’t quite make that clear “ he scoffed shaking his head along with it “ your shitty reasoning must of gotten lost on one of the many streets of Japan y/n “

His eyes glowing body perking up with his next sentence “ yknow what how about you go find it hmm then we can have this little talk sometime later -- preferably when I'm sleeping id hate to be awake for another one of your hellish complaints babe.”

your anger was only growing as the argument continued “ you fucking douchebag I bet you don’t even know why I'm pissed off “

He let out a small sigh of a laugh his legs shaking and hitting each other in a wave before they resumed their earlier position “ I don’t“

“ and you don’t care either do you “

“ I don’t “

Your heart broke for the first time ever in your relationship with the stoic male after hearing his words and tone. In all the time you and your boyfriend had been together you two never argued about his lack of emotion or care.

It never bothered you

It never affected you

until it did

4 hours ago

You smiled up at the taller male as his mouth continued to run while talking to the rest of his volleyball team. This was the first time you’d ever seen him talk for more than 5 minutes with anything other then yeah’s and small mhmms.

The both of you had been invited to a class reunion and you only decided to go because of his new teams constant nagging

Suna had been telling you all week to find something else to do and that you didn’t have to go with him. That it would be too boring and long and that you would be better off having fun without him.

Of course you put up a fight but, ultimately lost and decided to hang out by yourself for the earlier half of the day spending last weeks paycheck on this weeks shopping spree

it felt nice to treat yourself but you couldn’t help but want to treat your boyfriend too. The thought of him being bored alone plagued your mind and you had to get it out.

The only way to do that was to go to the reunion.

Now how you imagined it would go is you show up in your fancy new dress surprising him smile a bit , talk up some of the host and sneak your way in and then mingle and go home and cuddle and kiss your boyfriend all night

funny thing is somewhere in that prewritten script you had created you didn’t realize imagination is not always reality.

The sight of your boyfriend leaning against a wall with a glass in his hand and his other on the string of your best friends dress had you reeling in the disgust that you wanted to spill so badly on the floor right now

All you’d done was go to the restroom but now you sat with your eyes widening while you watched his eyebrows come together in annoyance with the string that wouldn’t come undone.

Your best friend faced away from him back to his chest and a small smile on her face. Cheeks heated from his touch and in that moment you cursed her for having a look on her face that made it visible how much she enjoyed his warmth. You wished she didn’t make it so obvious how the closeness to your boyfriend was making her feel

how it was encouraging her

Your heart broke when you seen Suna finally relax and blow air out of his cheeks before nodding softly almost thanking the gods that he figured it out and it was over

Your feet moving before you could even process what to say to either of them.

“ y-y/—“

your hand came in contact with your best friends face before she could even finish the loud slap echoing through the room as everyone turned to find the source of the noise

Eyebrows raising when they noticed it was not only a slap but a full on one sided battle between you and the girl who everyone seen as nice and quiet during your school years

They never knew of the undercover bitch that was lurking behind the surface. They’d never see the way she was smirking as she took every hit given to her in stride. Your boyfriends hands wrapping around your torso as he looked down and seen that you were hovering over her ripping her to bits

You never letting go of the grip your thighs held around her own as she whispered to where only you could hear “ aw poor y/n’s defending someone that doesn’t even want em—gonna go to jail for someone so unloyal huh “

Your eyes lit up with pure hatred as the security made their way over to you reaching to take you from Sunas hold and lessening your grip on the woman beneath you

“ sir we need you to let her go “

“ don’t touch me until you actually make it all the way to police academy you fucking lowlife. “ you spit out “ how the hell do you only make it to security much less high school reunion security “

“ the hell do you know — you don’t even know how hard police academy is asshole “

“ ah I bet your kids’ll be real proud “ your eyes squinted at his name tag “ todd — you kiss your wife with that mouth “

you laughed eyes rolling from him to suna “ or are you like this asshole and kiss your mistress with it instead ? huh toodles ? “

“ ha — ‘m gonna have fun with you--ya little prick. sir — let ‘em go or else i’ll pull out the big guns — they snuck in here and now their disrespecting an officer “

“ big guns “ your laugh circulated through the room “ ‘k sure let me stop before I get pepper sprayed “

“ my hands already on the trigger you lil bitc— “

“ hey “ sunas voice growled behind you “ watch who the fuck your talking to toodles“

“ just— get—get the fuck off dude I didn’t go to police academy so I could avoid this — their full on disrespecting me come on man get off“ your face scrunched up in annoyance as you saw the security look like they were about to cry

“ well I mean — “ he sighed “ it’s not like your a real officer right“ suna sighed out as he began to bite his lip in worry “ I mean we can let this slide right ? “ he nodded looking towards the males name badge “ uh toodles“

He coughed “ todd — I mean todd “

“ I’m sorry but, even if I could “ his gaze dead set on you “ which I really don’t want to — seeing as though they disrespected me “

His voice sounding proud as he continued “ and I'll have you know I'm security guard of the mouth asshole “

“ oh whoop dee fucking do Tinkerbelle ”

“ y-fucking-/n “ you could feel the way Suna was seething above you breath hot and you could tell his face was made up in a snarl “ if you don't shut the fuck up I swear on Atsumu’s unwashed boxers ill leave your ass prison letters starting tonight “

“ see —— sir I'm trying “ he sighed “ I really am trying to let this go but — “

“ their with me — “

“sure “ he scoffed “ I'll need to see some relations or — “

“ their my s/—their my plus one “ his eyes moved to look at everyone surrounding you guys then back to the position he now held you in before finally dropping you to the floor. Your heart dropping and ears tuning everything out from that point on.

Everything on mute until you got in the car and were finally met with his low voice as he buckled you in and walked to his side turning the car on “ y/n “

You turned to look out the window “ y/n that — “

His voice was so hard but so weak “ y/n that was so fucking embarrassing “ Your body shivered at his words

“ having to watch my fucking s/o almost get fucking arrested “

His hands tightened their grip on the wheel “ then turning around and having to talk you out of it in front of our whole graduating class “

his voice went deadpanned as he swerved a bit on the road mixing lanes “ and — and my team — oh fuck my team “

he started to breathe a bit heavier as you began to feel bad hearing the sadness in his voice. His body shifting in his seat “ all so you could “

he laughed a bit at the situation “ all so you could take your ugly ass insecurities out on your friend ? “

he scoffed looking from you to the road and back to you “ when did you two even stop being friends huh ? did I miss that or ?? do friends just go out and leave bruises on each other or is that something new? What-- is it like a new TikTok trend -- a fashion statement huh ?? the fuck is it because, I'm not a friend person so maybe you know something I don’t “

He scoffed “ maybe — maybe I'll never be a friend person after something like that. If friends are just beating each other’s asses in broad day light out the fucking blue then I'll just stick with ‘tsumu at least I know I can beat his ass if he were to pull some shit like that “

‘ friend ‘ you thought silently

“ poor kid didn’t even see it coming “ he shook his head at you turning back to the road “ holy hell that’s shameful y/n “

he whispered “ I don’t even wanna think about the rumors that’ll spread about us tomorrow “

The car was quiet only for a minute as Suna re arranged his thoughts before he could beat into you again “ friend Suna ? “

your voice was dry “ Rin do friends help each other out of their clothes ? “

your eyebrows creased “ do they focus so intently on another woman while their own is in the same room “

“ I didn’t know you were there “

“ SO YOU ONLY TAKE FRIENDS CLOTHES OFF WHEN IM NOT THERE “

“ NO I “

“ YOU ONLY TOUCH OTHER WOMEN WHEN IM NOT THERE “

“ y/n jus— “ he took a deep breathe and let it out “ just shut up its not like that “ he let out an uncomfortable and tired scoff of a laugh “ it wasn't like that “

“ it’s always shut up Suna it’s never ‘ what’s wrong y/n ‘ ‘ are you ok y/n ‘ it’s just ‘ shut up I don’t wanna talk so you don’t wanna talk either ‘ “

you locked eyes with the male in front of you “ I'm done Rin I'm— I'm done “

“ you cant leave me-- heh not after that shit you pulled back there  “ 

“ fuck if I cant--you don't look like my legs to me and as far as I know their still Bluetooth connected to my mind so-- “

“ you'll be an overnight clown you-you need me y/n “ he shook his head “ we need each other “ 

“ no you need volley ball because you need money-- because guess what asshole as of right now-- your homeless”

“ fuck you as if “

“ we’re over Suna don't let my words finally hit you when you walk out the shitty door”

“ that’s fine by me “ he scoffed “ get the hell out for all I care — I'll pack your shit for you “

“ no— I'll pack your shit asshole your living  in my house bottom feeder “

“ if you don’t shut the fuck u— “

“ then what ? huh what — you’ll leave me “

“ I swear to god I'll —”

“ you’ll what cheat on me with my best friend ah I'm so scared — “ your voice holding nothing but mock enthusiasm “ I can just imagine the way you’ll kiss her when I'm not there — these thoughts for some reason almost feels real y’know “

you watched as the man you’d taught yourself to love for 7 years since high school finally walked out the door. His perfume from earlier still hanging in the air long after the door slammed. Your mind racing when you were finally brought to one thought

‘ how did we end up like this and how the hell do we get back ‘

[theladyofdeath]

Heels {Rowaelin}

The prompt: walks in front of their crush in stripper heals and a short skirt because they want their attention

Rowan x Aelin os

Written with @snelbz​

There was no way this could be a good idea.

Aelin was sitting on her bed, watching as Lysandra flicked through her closet. She had told her that tonight was the night and had recruited her to help her do what she considered nearly impossible.

She was going to get the attention of Rowan Whitethorn.

It wasn’t that he didn’t know she existed, it was quite the opposite. He was one of her friends, having met during orientation week their freshman year, and as their group grew, so did their friendship. But after three and a half years, she had very solidly gotten her stuck as just that: his friend.

“You’re wasting your time,” Aelin crooned, flipping through the timeline on her phone. 

“Bullshit,” Lysandra muttered, flipping through the clothes in her closet. “You need to feel confident, Aelin. Rowan is obsessed with you, and you’re obsessed with him. This whole thing is ridiculous.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but remained quiet. 

“How about this?” Lysandra asked, pulling out a denim mini skirt and black halter cropped top. As Aelin was about to reply, Lysandra said, “Say nothing. Put it on.”

With a roll of her eyes, yet again, Aelin did as much. Once she had the skirt and top on, she looked in the mirror. 

And she looked hot as hell.

“Shoes?” Aelin asked, despite herself. 

“Oh, I have the perfect heels,” Lysandra said, fleeing from the room. She came back a moment later with a pair of black stilettos that were Aelin’s  size. 

Scoffing, Aelin held them up. “I’m going to break my neck.”

Lysandra snorted and flounced back into the bathroom where she continued to straighten her hair. “You’re exaggerating.”

“Fine,” Aelin amended. “I’m going to break my ankle.” She set the shoes on her bed and joined Lysandra in the bathroom to finish getting ready.

She let Lysandra curl her hair, but drew the line when she offered to do her makeup. They had very different styles when it came to that and while Lysandra looked drop dead gorgeous with her cat-eye liner and ruby red lips, Aelin would never be able to pull it off.

“Where is this party even at?” Lysandra asked, pulling her hair back into a stylish ponytail.

“Lorcan’s.” Aelin was trying to keep her hand steady as she applied the thin line of liquid eyeliner to her upper lid. “I think Elide convinced him to throw it.”

Lysandra snorted, applying her mascara.  “Sounds right. Lorcan isn’t exactly the host-type.”

Aelin grinned, tossing her eyeliner in her makeup bag. “Alright, hurry up. I want to make my entrance.”

With a roll of her eyes, Lysandra took one last look in the mirror and declared herself ready and they were off.

Lorcan’s apartment was just on the edge of campus, so the two girls walked and earned the eager glances of many as they did so.

Aelin took it as a good sign.

“Will Aedion be here tonight?” Lysandra asked, shooting a glance over at Aelin.

She groaned. “Probably.” She still couldn’t believe that her roommate actually had the hots for her cousin. He was practically her brother and the thought of him in any sort of compromising position made her want to gag. “If you hook up with him tonight, please do it at his place. I can’t afford therapy on my barista’s salary.”

“Trust me,” Lysandra said, adjusting her ponytail as they approached the steps to Lorcan’s. “I plan on giving you complete privacy at the apartment tonight. And you better take advantage of it.”

Butterflies grew in the pit of Aelin’s stomach. 

She planned to, hoped to, wanted to…but, she had to catch Rowan’s eye first - something that made her nerves go haywire. 

Lysandra must have caught it, because they stopped outside of Lorcan’s door and Lysandra made Aelin face her. 

“You look gorgeous,” she said, and brushed Aelin’s hair back. “He’d be an idiot not to come after you.”

That was the goal, after all. Aelin was not going to be the one doing the chasing. She wanted Rowan to see her, want her, not be able to take his eyes off of her. She knew he’d be here, the party was at his best friend’s apartment, knew that everyone from their friend group would show up. Yet she was absolutely fucking terrified he’d see her and have zero reaction.

She played it off with a joke though. Scoffing, she tossed her hair over a shoulder. “He’d better. I didn’t book an emergency appointment with my waxer for nothing.”

If Lysandra noticed the fake bravado — which she absolutely did, she and Aelin had become as close as sisters over the past three years — she didn’t call her out on it. Instead, she smirked, smacked Aelin on the ass, and said, “Then let’s go get your man.”

The music could be heard from a block away, and when they opened the front door, the apartment was already packed.

People definitely noticed them come in, though, including Elide who was running towards them, a drink in hand. “It’s about time you two showed up!”

“The host himself isn’t here to greet us?” Aelin mocked, giving Elide a hug.

Elide chuckled as she rolled her eyes. “He’s been out on the balcony for about a half hour, avoiding all human interaction.”

“Sounds about right,” Lysandra replied, rolling her eyes, but then she began looking around the spacious townhouse Lorcan and Elide shared. “You haven’t seen Aedion tonight, have you?”

Elide gave Aelin a knowing glance, but said, “Last I saw, he was playing beer pong with Fenrys. Don’t know who the poor bastards getting their asses handed to them were, but they’re probably still in the kitchen.”

Lysandra gave Aelin a wink. “Good luck.” And then she was gone, lost in the bodies dancing to the music.

Her part in tonight was done, to help Aelin get Rowan’s attention. It was all up to Aelin now, so Lysandra was free to find someone to occupy her own time. Even if the thought of who she’d be with made Aelin want to shudder.

Alone with Aelin, or as close to it as they could be, Elide let out a low whistle as she finally took in Aelin’s outfit. “I have a feeling that outfit isn’t just to impress me.”

“Does that mean you’re not impressed?” Aelin asked, pretending to pout. 

Elide looped her arm through Aelin’s and led her to the bar. “I’m always impressed, but I don’t think you care so much about my opinion, do you?”

Aelin snorted as she began to look around, but Elide saved her the struggle.

“He’s on the patio with Lor,” Elide said, simply. “Don’t worry. I’ll drag his ass back in here soon and Rowan will follow.”

Elide poured them both a shot, which Aelin gladly took and even asked for another. But when Manon and Asterin Blackbeak showed up, she waved Elide off to go greet her friends, and leaned against the bar, debating on a third shot.

She wasn’t trying to get shitty tonight, just a little messy, but her nerves were beginning to grow again.

Just as she decided to say fuck it, and get another shot, and heard a whistle from behind her. She turned and found Dorian Havilliard staring at her legs.

Or maybe he was staring at her ass.

They had messed around her freshman year, when his dorm room was just down the hall from hers, but it had never been anything more than that between them, and they agreed that they were better as friends. It didn’t mean they didn’t have fun though.

She smirked as she tossed the glass back and set it down on the bar top, before turning to him. “See anything you like?”

“I see quite a few things I like,” he said, raising his drink in salute. “Then again, only a fourth of your skin is covered, so there’s a lot to look at.”

Aelin laughed, quietly, and clinked her empty shot glass against his full bottle. “Gotta show off what the gods gave me.”

“As you should,” he agreed with a wink. “Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

“Well, it is school, and I actually study,” Aelin said, turning to refill her shot glass.

Dorian had the audacity to look offended. “Hey, I study, too.”

Aelin laughed as she turned back around. “Reading a bunch of books that have nothing to do with any of your classes doesn’t count as studying, Dor.”

“But they’re so much more interesting,” he replied, chuckling as he thought of the boring curriculum he studied for his pre-law degree.

Aelin rolled her eyes as she tossed back the shot and set it behind the bar. Four shots was enough. She’d be fun, she’d be confident, but she wasn’t tipsy enough to make an ass of herself.

Yet.

“I assume all of this skin isn’t for me, so who are you trying to impress?” Dorian asked, and then added, with a wink, “Chaol?”

Huffing a laugh, Aelin shook her head. “Absolutely not. That ended in a disaster and I’m not inclined to repeat it.”

The sliding glass door opened and Aelin’s eyes snapped to the door, before she quickly turned away before Lorcan and Rowan stepped inside.

“Oh,” Dorian chuckled, softly. “Whitethorn then.”

It wasn’t a question.

He had moved imperceptibly closer and she knew how it would look to Rowan. For whatever reason, she decided she wanted him to be jealous she was talking to another guy.

Even if she had no idea whether or not he’d even noticed her.

“Is this who I am now?” Dorian asked, quietly, leaning into her ear, fully aware that it looked like he was coming onto her. “Your super hot wingman?”

Aelin snorted, and didn’t bother moving away. “My overly cocky wingman, maybe.”

Dorian huffed a laugh. “I still take it as a compliment.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be flirting up Manon instead of fake flirting with me?” Aelin whispered, quietly. She glanced at Rowan, who was filling up a red solo cup.

“I like to make Manon wait,” Dorian said, running a finger up Aelin’s forearm. “She gets jealous, too, and it makes things so much more exciting in the bedroom.”

“Thanks for the image, Dor,” Aelin said, pushing away the need to roll her eyes and flick him in the nose.

He and Manon weren’t exclusively in a relationship, but everyone knew they hooked up with each other, and only each other. But, again, totally not exclusive.

“Besides,” Dorian mused, his finger skimming Aelin’s arm. “She’s busy doing body shots with Asterin. I’ll enjoy her later.”

Aelin snorted, reaching behind the bar and pulling an ice cold beer from the open cooler. She handed it to him and he opened it for her, flicking the cap in the air as if it were a coin.

He let it fall to the bar top as he leaned in to whisper in her ear one last time. “Pretty sure that’s my cue.”

She followed his gaze across the room, and found Rowan looking at her. Watching her and Dorian both.

“Have fun,” he added, before sauntering off towards the kitchen.

Rowan watched Dorian walk away to the other side of the room where he sat to watch Aedion and Fenrys continue to dominate in beer pong.

When Rowan’s eyes trailed back to Aelin, she was already watching him, a slightly-forced mischievous smile on her lips.

On the inside, she felt like she was going to puke.

He made his way across the room, pausing in front of her and slipped his free hand into his pocket. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself,” she said, and she wasn’t sure why it sounded so breathless.

“I didn’t see you get here,” he said, taking a sip of his beer.

She did the same, fighting the urge to toss her hair over a shoulder. “You were outside.” She realized that told him she was keeping tabs on him and she quickly added. “I mean, Elide told me Lorcan was outside, so I assumed you had to be with him.”

He smirked. “Right. Well, I was. It’s a little crowded in here.” She nodded, but he went on. “However, seems like you didn’t mind when Havilliard was over here with you. Not too crowded for you, then, huh?” 

Aelin slowly lifted a golden brow. If Rowan wanted to play, she would play. “Not crowded enough for someone to be blocking your view of me with Dorian, apparently.”

A light lit up Rowan’s green eyes as his jaw twitched, suppressing a grin. “I can always count on you to manipulate my words and their meaning, Galathynius.”

Aelin’s grin was wide. “Someone has to keep you in your place, Whitethorn.” 

“And is that you?” He asked, voice low as he took a drink from his cup. “The person that’s going to keep me in my place?”

Aelin’s eyes glittered as she took another drink. It was always easy with Rowan. They could talk for hours, that witty banter, back and forth. But, that’s all that had ever happened between them: simple conversation. 

From the way she caught him watching her legs as she took a drink, though, she thought tonight may just end up as she planned.

A hell of a lot more than simple conversation.

“Want to dance?” She asked.

His eyes slowly slid up her body to meet her gaze. “You know I don’t dance, Ace.”

She took a long, slow drink from her bottle. “Not even with me?”

“Not with anyone,” he said, crossing his arms and resting a hip against the bar.

It was a miracle no one had interrupted them, but the bulk of the drinks had been set up in the kitchen.

“That’s a shame,” Aelin sighed, finishing off her beer and tossing the empty bottle in the trash can. “I would love to dance, but I don’t have anyone to dance with.”

Rowan said, “I’m sure you can find someone, especially with how you’re dressed tonight.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked at him. “And how is that?”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look drop dead fucking sexy,” he replied, without missing a beat. “I just don’t get why.”

“What do you mean?” Aelin asked.

“Why try so hard?” He asked, head cocked to the side. “Who are you trying to impress?”

Cocky bastard. She could see it in his eyes, he knew what he was doing and she hated him for it.

Hated that she loved it, anyway.

“What need would I have to impress anyone?” Aelin asked, chin raised. “I think I’m naturally perfect in every way.”

Rowan chuckled. “Then you should’ve come in your sweatpants and a tank top.”

Aelin rose a brow.

Rowan shrugged. “I think that’s when you’re sexiest.”

With that, with his cup pressed to his lips, he turned and walked away.

Aelin blinked after him, not sure she was sure she heard him right. He made his way through the people and headed back to the door leading out onto the balcony, stopping to say something to Lorcan. He waved him off and then Rowan was slipping back outside, while Aelin just started after him.

She pushed her way through the crowd, which was easier said than done when you weren’t a six-foot-four giant who mildly scared the shit out of everyone by scowling at them, but she eventually made it to the door. Sliding it open, she stepped out into the balmy night air.

“You can’t say shit like that and then just disappear,” Aelin said, finding him exactly how she’d expected to.

Rowan was leaned against the wall, the sole of one booted foot pressed against it as well. A lit cigarette dangled from his fingers. She gave him shit about smoking all the time, but knew he only did it when he drank.

Or when he had something on his mind.

He held the cigarette out to her, but she gave him a look. “You know better than to offer me that.”

Rowan just grinned and put it back between his lips. “You’re missing the party.” 

“What did you mean?” Aelin asked, standing opposite of him, leaning against the railing. 

“When?” he asked, looking up at the sky.

“Don’t bullshit me, Rowan,” she snapped, and it got his attention. 

Blowing a puff of smoke into the cool night air, he met her gaze and slowly shook his head. He gestured to her outfit, to the heels that were making her feet ache. “What is this?”

“They’re clothes,” she said. “For a party.”

“They’re Lysandra’s,” he replied, simply. 

“I can’t wear my roommate’s clothes?” Aelin scoffed. “What the hell is wrong with you tonight-.”

“Why can’t you just admit that you’re just trying to impress someone?” he interrupted, watching her, that light in his eye fading. “You’ve never been not-confident a day in your life. Whoever it is that you’re trying to impress, he obviously isn’t worth it if it causes you to be someone you’re not.”

Aelin looked down at the cropped halter top, the skirt that hardly reached her thighs, the heels that she was certain would cause blisters. “This is someone I’m not?”

Rowan slowly shook his head. “Last time we went out, you wore that little golden slip dress….” He shook his head, reminiscing on the memory. “That was you. You wore sneakers and you were still barefoot halfway through the night, dancing on the patio. What you’re wearing now - yeah, you look gorgeous - but I can tell you’re not comfortable in it.” 

“If I’m trying to get someone’s attention, maybe my usual isn���t best. Especially if it pushes me out of my comfort zone,” she snapped back, her hands on her hips. “And why is it such a problem if I’m trying to impress someone? Dorian was impressed.”

“Dorian doesn’t drool all over you like a dog in heat,” he replied. “He respects you, regardless of what you’re wearing, how much skin you’re showing off. But if you’re trying to impress some D bag who will only notice you if you’re dressed like that, you might want to reconsider.”

“And what if I was trying to impress you?” She asked, getting in his face, cigarette smoke and whiskey breath be damned. “What if I was trying to get your attention, Rowan?”

His jaw locked and his eyes searched hers, as if he was trying to find the underlying meaning in what she was saying, even if there wasn’t one. 

“Then you’d be wasting your time,” he said, at last.

It felt like a knife had been shoved into Aelin’s ribs with every word that had come out of his mouth. Begging herself not to cry in front of him, she went to take a step away, but Rowan grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

Their chests were nearly touching, and his hand trailed from her wrist, into her hand, interlocking his fingers with hers.

He took the cigarette from his lips and said, “You’d be wasting your time because you impress me every time that I’m around you.”

“You never act like it,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You never do anything, and you’ve never tried to make a move. What the hell else was I supposed to do?”

He flicked the cigarette over the rail and let go of her hand, only to frame her face with both of his. “This.”

And then his lips were on hers, and Aelin didn’t care that she could taste residual smoke or stale beer. She knew she didn’t taste much better. All that mattered was that Rowan was kissing her and his hands were on her face and hers were tangled up in his shirt. His tongue slid against hers and she had to fight to stop the moan that threatened to slip out of her.

He pulled back, resting his forehead against hers. “That,” he said, breathlessly. “That is what you should have done to get my attention.”

Aelin swallowed, harshly. “Do it again.”

Rowan didn’t have to be convinced. His hands slid down her back as he brought his mouth to hers, and he pulled her body uptight against his. They stayed out there for a long time, for hours, uninterrupted. 

At one point, she saw Dorian come by and lock the balcony door, so everyone else would get the hint to stay the hell away.

Wingman of the year.

They stayed on the balcony, kissing and laughing and kissing some more, until the party wound down. Around two, Lorcan let them inside, and Aelin pulled Rowan out of the apartment and across campus to her own. 

True to Lysandra’s word, she was nowhere to be found.

The second Aelin stepped into her apartment, she kicked off her heels and was swept into Rowan’s arms. He carried her into her bedroom, where he stripped her down, out of her roommate’s clothes.

Rowan Whitethorn saw all of her.

She had his full attention. 

[hangovercurse]

Nerd Love

After years of working together, Pete still manages to break you.

Request: “Hi! Can I get a Pete imagine where you guys work on SNL together and you have few skits together and during one of them you can’t stop laughing”

Pete Davidson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 2237

“Live from New York, it’s Saturday night!” You hear Kate and the host of the week announce before Lorne motions that the cameras had cut for commercial break. You and Pete had a sketch together in exactly 12 minutes and 45 seconds, and you were trying to cool your nerves.

You loved your job, writing on SNL was something you had dreamed of since you were in middle school, and now it was your reality. Of course, it was hard, the hours were long and the work was demanding. But having Pete by your side made it all bearable.

You had met on your first day, getting hired one season after him. You two were deemed the “babies” of the cast because you were the youngest, so naturally you got paired up. A lot.

At first it bothered you that you only really ever worked with one person, but after your first few episodes you grew to love Pete. Your energies matched so well, and whenever you wrote together you easily built of each other.

After 6 years of working on the show together, you had become really close friends. You were with him through all of his hard times, and you were one of the few people he let visit him in rehab. In return, he stuck by your side through everything, even when the internet tried to cancel you for an interview that was taken completely out of context.

You couldn’t pinpoint when, but at some point, you had developed real feelings for him. Obviously, you’d never tell him, not wanting to mess up your amazing friendship. But they still flourished, especially when you would be up until 6 am writing sketches and goofing around in the writer’s room. Of course, the comments from fans didn’t help your feelings either. They loved you guys. Anytime you posted Pete on your social media, they were all over it.

But you guys had denied the dating rumors countless times since they’d started 5 years ago. Even though having to hear the words “we’re just friends” over and over killed you.

You were lost in thought when Pete came up behind you, hands grabbing your shoulders and shaking you slightly. “Ready bookworm?” He asked, moving to stand next to you.

“Only if you are, Mr. jock-man.” You laughed, rolling your eyes.

The sketch you and Pete had written was a young couple on a really fancy date to celebrate their 6-month anniversary. Your character was going on the date with Kyle Mooney’s character. Both of you were the stereotypical nerd couple with glasses, suspenders, and everything else. Pete was playing your waiter, who obviously did not give a shit about his job. He was the stereotypical jock character. Your character was super attracted to him and kept paying attention to him. He loved the attention and would do things like show you his (reaaaallllyyy) lame tattoos, tell you about sports, and everything that nerds don’t like. Kyle obviously didn’t like that and kept trying to get your attention in the weirdest of ways.

It was pretty funny in rehearsals, almost too funny. Seeing Pete act so out of character was hilarious to you and having to overdramatically flirt with him felt ridiculous. You barely made it through in rehearsals without laughing, so you had to hope you could do it on stage.

“Y/N, Pete, and Kyle. You’re up.” The stagehand told you, and you grabbed Kyle’s hand, walking to the stage.

The sketch started and you were doing okay. You and Kyle had your conversation about your anniversary and your favorite Star Wars movies. But then Pete walked onto the stage in his ridiculous waiter getup. His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top and wrinkled, his black pants hanging low on his hips, and his apron only half tied. You bit your tongue to keep yourself together.

“Welcome to White Oyster, what do you want?” He said in a very bored voice. You acted interested, eyes raking up and down him. You felt ridiculous and had to swallow a laugh.

Kyle pushed his glasses up on his nose, “me and my girlfriend are here for our six-month anniversary, so we would like the couple’s special.” His nerd voice was incredible.

“Okay. Anything else?” Pete’s voice remained monotone.

You bit your lip, “do you recommend anything else?” You asked, trying to sound nerd-sexy.

You could see Pete struggling to contain a smile. “I mean, whatever. Food here is shitty anyways.”

Kyle’s mouth gaped, “can you not speak like that around my girlfriend, please?”

The sketch continued with you making flirty remarks towards Pete, him being very bored and unaware, and Kyle trying to direct your attention. After your second attempt at flirting with him, you could feel yourself breaking down.

“So, I was wondering. Do you have any tattoos?” You asked him, your elbow on the table, twirling a piece of your hair in your finger.

Pete nodded, pulling up his shirt to show the big MOM tattoo on his side that was drawn on earlier. You felt a giggle slip out, completely out of character.

You tried to cover it up and continue, “wow, you really must love your mom, huh?” Another chuckle leaving your mouth, “that’s kinda hot.”

Kyle looked at you with wide eyes, “Linda!” He screamed the name of your character

Pete shrugged, “Nah, I did it myself. It says WOW, like world of warcraft.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that fell out of your mouth, and one followed from Pete. This was a disaster. You tried to regain your composure, knowing Kyle was probably really frustrated right now. “I just think tattoos are so cool. You don’t have any, do you Darren?” You asked Kyle’s character, eyes narrowing at him. You heard a chuckle from Pete beside you and you bit your cheek.

Kyle faked looking flustered, “N-no. But I have all 7 of the Harry Potter books and 4 collectors wands.”

Pete nodded, “Oh cool, I have a Harry Potter tattoo.” He pulled up his arm to show his real tattoo.

Your eyes went wide, “Wow. That’s way cooler.” You batted your eyes up at Pete, making him break even more. Watching his face go red and his mouth lifting up with laughter made you squeeze your eyes to hide your laughter.

“But babe!” Kyle was starting to break now too. “You love my Harry Potter stuff!”

“It’s cool, I guess.”

The sketch continued with you and Pete laughing anytime you looked at each other, your energies feeding into one another. You both tried really hard to keep it together, but something about flirting with Pete made you so giddy inside that you couldn’t help it.

Eventually the scene ended and the lights went down. You knew the cameras probably caught an extra few seconds after the close of the sketch, meaning they caught you and Pete breaking down into fits of laughter.

You somehow made it offstage, faces red. “We’re so gonna get fired.” He said through giggles.

“I’m so sorry,” You started, trying to take breaths through your laughs. “I don’t know why I couldn’t hold it together.”

“You looked ridiculous.” Pete laughed, pointing at your glasses.

 After the show you made your way back to your dressing room, changing into your day clothes and getting ready to leave. You finally checked your phone, which had been off the duration of the show.

Your twitter feed was filled with clips of you and Pete laughing through the sketch.

They’re so cute together #goals

Love their friendship

Get you someone who looks at you like Pete looks at Y/N

Poor Kyle ☹

The way they can’t get through a skit because they’re too in love

And they say they aren’t dating…

Can’t believe the unprofessionalism

Pete and Y/N are dating… no one can convince me otherwise

The flirting!!! The looks!!!

I would like Pete and Y/N to get married and adopt me please

Your heart melted at all the comments, a sigh leaving your mouth. You watched the video and noticed the way he looked at you anytime you broke character, it was the same way you looked at him all the time.

You shook your head, convincing yourself you were imagining it. You couldn’t afford to think like that, it would ruin your friendship.

A knock at your door pulled you out of your thoughts, “Y/N, wanna go grab a drink with me?” It was Pete.

“You can come in.” You called, and he did so. “I don’t know, I was thinking I might just go home. I’m pretty tired.” You really just wanted to go home and sort through your feelings for the umpteenth time that month.

He nodded, watching as you tossed various items in your bag, “you were great tonight.”

You giggled, “Pete I barely made it through our sketch, it was a disaster.”

He rolled his eyes, walking over to where you were at your vanity. “I messed up too, but it was fine. No one noticed.”

You leaned into the mirror, fixing your makeup slightly. Pete was very close to you, watching you through said mirror. “Trust me, Petey. Everyone noticed.” You laughed, standing up straight again.

Your back was inches from his chest, and you could suddenly feel a different sort of tension in the air. But you didn’t make any move to shift away from him. He gave you a quizzical look through the mirror and you took out your phone, turning to him.

You took in a breath at the proximity. You weren’t close enough to kiss or anything, but his chest was only a few inches away from you. You shook away the thoughts you were having and opened your twitter, letting him scroll through the tweets. He chuckled and shook his head as he read them, eventually handing you your phone back.

“People really like us together.” He said, smiling.

You rolled your eyes, “They have for the past like, 6 years, Petey. We’re funny.” You smiled moving to turn back to grab your bag, but his hand grabbed your hip and made you stay facing him.

Your mind went blank at his touch, trying to figure out if this was real or if you were just really really tired. “That’s not what I meant.” He said, quieter.

You laughed, looking away from his eyes, not really knowing what to say. “I mean, people have always thought… stuff like that.” You mumbled, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Pete’s eyes were searching your face, taking in every detail. “Have you ever thought about, like, why people think we’re…” He trailed off, but you knew what he was implying.

You blushed, looking down at your toes. “I mean, I guess we’re together a lot and we get on well. People just like to make assumptions, I guess.”

“Yeah, and I’m sure it doesn’t help that I can never keep my eyes off of you, even when the cameras are rolling.” He said, a chuckle following.

You smiled, looking back up at him, your brain trying to process what he just said. After a few moments of silence, you spit out a “why are you bringing this up?” Your voice was soft, almost a whisper.

He sighed, hand moving from your hip and rubbing his face lightly. “I don’t know, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” You gave him a look that told him to continue. “I mean, I think it’s kind of obvious that I like you.”

Your mouth dropped, “obvious? Pete Davidson you have been far from obvious about your feelings.” You really thought you were dreaming, hearing those words from him was just impossible.

“Are you kidding me? How many sketches do I have to write just so I can flirt with you? Have you not picked up on the fact that literally every sketch I write for you to be in we’re playing some sort of couple?” He laughed, stepping towards you, and grabbing your hips again. “Dude, and I thought I was oblivious to this shit.”

“In my defense I’ve spent the past like 6 years trying to convince myself you didn’t feel the same way.” You said, a smile crossing your face.

Pete rolled his eyes, leaning closer to you, “now why would you wanna do that?” There was a playful tone in his voice, but you couldn’t help your serious answer.

“Because I didn’t wanna read the signs wrong and mess up our friendship.” You sighed.

Pete’s smile softened, “Y/N I literally want to kill you right now for making me wait this long.” You giggled, leaning closer to him. “But you’re cute so I guess I can let it slide.”

“If I kiss you will it make up for it?” You asked, batting your eyelashes.

Pete pretended to think about it, “hmmm, maybe. You should definitely give it a shot to see.”

You rolled your eyes, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. Your lips touched his and it was like everything in the universe suddenly aligned. His mouth moved against yours in soft, perfect motions. His hands pulled you closer into him, your bodies molding together like it was meant to be.

When you finally pulled away for breath, he pressed his forehead against yours, a wide grin on his face. “So, about those drinks?”

[rudystopit]

7 Minutes in Heaven

[Mina Ashido x f!reader]

summary: mina has a party and she flirts with you. she notices you need a push to open up and suggests they play 7 mins in heaven.

*all characters are aged up*

warnings: NSFW, eating out, fingering, face fucking, overstimulation, squirting, praise, body worship, and riding.

wc: 3k

this morning you were walking into class when denki stopped you and asked if you wanted to come over for a party. he told you all the details like who’s dorms and time. you said you'd think about it and you walked into class. you hadn't really talked to anyone since moving here and everyone seems to be really close, since all of this shitty stuff as happened to them, that you really don't feel like you can get close with anyone.

but there was think one person you've had your eyes on. her smile always lit up a room and she seemed to be friends with everyone. you had talked to mina only a few times but each time was so memorable. you wanted to get to know her better.

it was friday which usually means aizawa's at his wits end with all of us and he just gonna sit there and sleep. so you stared out the window and thought about the party. sure you wanted to go but it felt awkward being the odd one out. you thought about who might go. you knew denki was going, so you figured sero, kiri and bakugou. then probably mina. deku and if he goes todoroki might go. you sat there a reasons out how may or may not go.

you thought about what they have planned. if mina was gonna be there, you figured, there was gonna be some games that no one wanted to play, but did anyways because it was getting boring. you zoned out thinking about the party.

you had fallen asleep and someone nudges you. you blink open you sleepy eyes. you turn your head to the person who nudged you. your meet with cheery smile and pink hair. you smile back.

"yeah?" you yawn, stretching. she watches how your uniform forms around your chest. she bites her lip and looks at you.

"oh, are you coming tonight?" she asks. you think about it, "i'm just getting a head count for drinks," she laughs.

"i don't know," you mumbled.

"well i put you down as coming and if you don't show up just means an extra drink," she reassured you. her hand moved to your arm. you snapped back at her, "i hope you come tho," she smiled and walked over to her friends.

you chewed up the inside of your mouth trying to figure out if you wanted to go or not. you thought about it the whole way back to your dorm. you flopped onto your bed and stared at the ceiling. you picked up your phone and played some music. you decided that your room was messed and that it's something you definitely need to do instead of going to the party.

an hour into cleaning, you hear the music starting down stairs. you sighed and put away some books and made your bed. you sat at your desk. maybe you should start school work. you stared at the paper, loosing all thoughts.

"fuck it," you yelled. you stood up and walked to your closet. "there's nothing better to do, i'll just go," you looked through your clothes. you found a black thin strap dress and a comfy tee over it. you styled it with a knot on the side and headed out your dorm.

you walked to the stairs as deku and todoroki were coming out of deku's room. "hey y/n, going to mina's party?" he yelled out. you waved and nodded yes. "great you can walk with us. deku wore sweats and a t shirt while todoroki wore jeans and t shirt. you felt a little over dressed. you walked with them to denki's dorm.

the music was loud but not enough for aizawa to complain. you walked over to the drinks and picked up three for you and the boys. you handed it to them and walked to the couch. you took a swig of the beer and flopped down. to skimmed the room.

people were dancing, some where talking and other sat around a table playing some cars game. you looked for mina. she was dancing and made eye contact with you. she smiled and held up a finger and called you over. you blushed and shook your head. she started walking over to you. she picked up your hand and pulled you off the couch. she grabs the beer out of your hand. she takes a sip and puts it on an end table.

"come on, follow my lead," mina whispers into your ear. you blush and look down at her hand in yours. she pulls you on to the "dance floor." she starts shuffling and moving her arms, still holding your hand. she closes her eyes and feels the music. you watch her and start coping watch she doing. she lets go of your hand while you to dance.

the song slows downs and a new one plays. she stops and looks at you. the beat start getting louder. mina smiles at you and she walks closer to you. she bops to the beat and moves her hands. you smile and do the same thing but with your shoulders. you two move past each other. mina turns and slides shading your back while you sway to the beat. you two met back in front of each other and she moves closer to you.

she sways one way while you sway the other. she keeps moving closer. you look down trying not to make eye contact. she dips her head lower to the music. her face getting closer. you panic and step back. she looks at you surprised.

"what's wrong?" she asked.

"o-oh. nothing just-" you were cut off by a hot headed idiot yelling.

"yo raccoon eyes! it's getting boring, got any dumb games?" he yells.

she looks at you ignoring him. she stares at you, lost in her thoughts. it looked like an actually lightbulb lit up in her yellow eyes.

"yeah i got one!" she says, turning away from you. you let go of the breath your were holding and turn back to the couch. you grab the beer and take a few huge gulps and sit down.

mina turns down the music and tells everyone to sit by the couch. everyone shuffles to the couch. there's about 12 of students. deku sat next you and was asking questions about how you feeling.

"you're face is all red," his hand goes to your face. "damn you're hot to the touch,"

"i'm fine," you answer as mina passes out a piece of paper to every other person.

"ok if i gave you a paper, write your name. if i didn't, go to the other side of the room," deku scribbles his name as you get up and walk away. you lean against the wall and wait.

"ok in the hat," everyone puts there name in a hat. "hear me out, once you put your name in the hat go back to your room, we're playing 7 mins in heaven!" she sneers. a few people groan and some were looking around to see who they could potentially get.

once everyone who wrote their names left. mina turns to the group that is left. six of us stood waiting for her. she passed around the hat. you were last to go.

you pulled out the only paper as everyone left to the rooms. you open up the paper and in quick hand writing, mina. you walk over to the couch and sit down. mina pointing people in the right direction and yelling at those who are complaining. you sipped on your beer when she walked in. she sighed and dramatically fell on the couch. you chuckled.

"hosting a party looks hard," you comment as she puts her feet on your lap.

"you know it," she laughed. you put your hand on her knee. she sat up and looked at you. you turn to look at her. "why did you pull away?" she bluntly asked.

"oh, um, i," you stumble out but before you could get your point out she kisses you. your eyes widen and her hand cups your cheek. you soften into the kiss when she moved to touch her legs under her.

she pulls away, "sorry, i've been wondering how soft they are," she laughed and sat back down with her knees tucked to her chest. you sat there stocked. she plays with her hand while you just sit there. you grab your beer and chug the rest. she looks at you with a curious look.

you slam the bottle down and you whip around to her. you place your hand on her cheek and slam your lips back onto hers. she held your hand while the other one as on your arm. she pulls away and slides out from underneath you. she goes over to her phone and changes the playlist. she looks back at you. she dances a little more. you smile and get up. you reach out your hand and she grabs it. you pull her closer. you place your hand on her hip while she puts her on your shoulder. her smile was so huge.

you kiss her forehead as you two dance to the music. she snuggled her head in the crook of your neck and you lean your head on hers. you pull away and spin her. she laughs and reaches up to wrap her arms around your neck. you lose your footing and two fall onto the floor.

"sorry," she laughs. she tucks a piece of hair behind your ear. she's straddling your lap, you sit up and kiss her. you wrap your arms around her waist. you pull her closer and she moans into the kiss. she pulls away, "come on," she whispers. she gets off your lap and hold your hand as you get up. she pulls you to her bed. she sits down.

you cup her cheek. she leans into your hand. "you're so beautiful" you say.

"i know," you giggles. you roll your eyes and climb onto the bed with her. you sit behind her and wrap your arms around her waist. you kiss her neck as your hands travel up her shirt. she pull it over her head. you hands play with her laced covered boobs. you unclip it and let her slide it off her shoulders. you massage her soft flesh and slightly teasing her nipples. her head leaned back onto your shoulder as you twist her nipples. one of your hands creases her stomach as your fingers travel underneath the fabric of her skirt.

your hand creases the lacy fabric and rubs a small circle into the damp fabric. mina's head fall back onto your shoulder as she lets out a high breathy moan. your other hand continues to massage her boobs. her hands grip onto your thighs. you quicken your pace on her clothed heat. she lets out a few more light moans before you remove your hand and back to massaging her boobs. she rolls her hips against the bed for some friction but you keep her closer to your chest.

your hand travels back down her skirt and under the lacy underwear. your fingers brush against her sensitive bud. she sighs in relief as you rub her clit back and forth. you quicken the speed and twist her abused nipples. you kiss her neck trying to find her sweet spot. you kissed the base of her neck, which caused her to arc her back and grip harder on your thighs. you smile against her skin. you sloppily kiss her neck while grazing your teeth over the sensitive skin. you sucked on the tender spot as she moans out your name. you made sure to leave a mark.

she rolls her hips onto your hand and her moans start picking up. you quicken your fingers pace on her sensitive clit. she leans back against you and lift one of her legs on the bed. "come for me princess," you whisper in her ear.

"god, y/n faster please," she yells out. you speed up. her legs close together as she lets out a scream in pleasure. you rub circles into her tired clit as she rides out her high.

once she calm down, you remove your hand from her skirt and crease her body. you lift her chin and twisted so she could look at you. "you did so good," you kiss her. she twists around and sits in between your legs.

"take off the dress," she smiles. you pull off your dress and toss it on the other side of the room. you were left in just your panties. she dipped her head and took your hardened nipple into her mouth. she would suck on it and the release, making sure each time made a noise. one of her hands wraps around to your lower back while the other drifts up your stomach and onto your other breast. you tangled your fingers into her hair as she flickers her tongue on your nipple.

"mina," you moaned out when her fingers pinches your sensitive nipple. she rolled the bud in between her fingers. your hand laces with hers as you make her massage the soft mound. "i need more," you whisper. you take her hand off of your chest and slide it down your underwear.

her fingers graze over the fabric. she pulls away from your abused nipple. "damn already wet for me," she chuckled. her hand slides up your stomach and in between you boobs as she pushes you to your back. you head hits her soft pillow. she pulls your legs up and slides off your panties.

the second they hit the floor so drove into you. she licked and sucked and bite every inch she could. she had you moaning in seconds. you hands fly to her hair as she sucks on your tender clit. you hear her lapping up every drop that comes out of you.

"fuck mina," you moan out.

she stops and looks up "what's wrong?" she asked.

"no don't stop! please!" you whine out. she smiles and goes back to abusing you aching pussy. mina crosses her ankles together to relieve the aching she has from your moaning and begging.

her skilled tongue dances across your pussy as she makes you come in minutes. you arc your back and grip onto the bed as she sucks on your aching hole. her tongue trusts a few times inside as you let out a small moan each time.

she kept trusting her tongue into you. you squeeze your eyes shut and try to protest but the euphoric feeling was too good to pass up. she slipped two fingers into your soaked pussy as she slowly trusts in and out. she leans back and watches her fingers get eating up. her eyes drift up to your face as she continues. your arm is covering your face as she overstimulates you.

"move your arm, i want to see that pretty little face come again," she coos and moves your arm.

"mina, too much, ah~" her fingers curl to hit the spot you never could reach and you arc your back into the pleasure. she rubs the spongy wall of your sweet spot. you felt pressure build up and the sensation to pee. you tired to hold it in but mina was persistent. the flood gates open and a wave of pure ecstasy washes over you. you were so caught up in the feeling you didn't realize mina licking up, your fluids, off her hand. she pulls her fingers out and rubs your stomach as you come down from that intense high.

"good girl, you squirted all over my fingers," she leans down a kisses you. you go to pull her closer but she stops you. "no baby girl, we've only just begun," she laughs. she moves to put one of her legs underneath yours and the other over yours. she hold one of your legs as she rocks herself back and forth.

you moan out as she rubs your stomach. she kept a slow pace knowing that your probably achy. she lets out small little mewls in pleasure. after the first few seconds of soreness turned you pleasure you move your hand you her hip to quicken her up. within seconds she was riding you and the bed was creaking. she moves you leg to on her shoulder and she goes faster. she looks down and watches your boobs jingle at the speed. you grip onto the sheets as she feels herself getting close. she moves your leg off her shoulder and you spread them further apart and mina comes. she moans out your name and rides you till she comes down from her high.

she moves her legs to straddles you. she leans down onto your chest and kisses you your hands creases her hips and waist. she sits up and grinds slightly on you. she hands crease her hips as she feels herself. her hands slide up to her breast and she massages her boobs. you look up and watch her through half lidded eyes. she leans back down and kisses you again. you wrap your arms around her shoulders as she bites your lip. she smile and she forces her tongue in. she explores every inch of your mouth. her hand rests at the slide of your neck as she pulls away just to come right back, make sure to make a sloppy noise.

she sits up and grinds against your stomach. your place your hands on her hips. one of her hand firmly planted on your chest. she grabs your hands and slowly brings them above your head as she shifts up on your body.

her knees are at your shoulders. she grabs her fingers into your hair as you wrap your arms around her legs. you kiss her wet folds. she held onto your hands as you lick her clit. she sank down onto your face when your tongue accidentally slipped into her. you continue to eat her out while her hand pulled on your hair and your fingertips leaving bruises on her thighs.

she fell on to her hand and started grinding on your face. she moaned out and said how good you make her feel. you sucked, licked, bit, trusted, lapped every inch of her pussy. your nose pressed into her clit which sent her over the edgy.

her thighs clamped around your head as her legs shook. she screams out in pleasure as you try to free your head. she loosens up and you continue to eat her out. you lap up every last drop from her. she falls on to her back and lays there trying to catch her breath.

you sit up and crawl to her. you lay on her chest as she plays with your hair. you kiss her chest. she leans down to kiss your head.

"damn, we definitely should have done this sooner," she sighs. she gets up to get her phone and a two beers. she walks back to bed but stops and laughs. "what time did we start the game?"

"hmm, idk?" she shrugged as she hands you a beer. you chugged it with a sigh. mina gets back in to bed as you snuggled up to her. you instantly closed your eyes and in a few minutes you were completely out.

you woke up to the bed vibrating. you opened your eyes to mina sleeping. you pick up her phone to see a ton of texts coming in.

you chuckle which wakes mina up. you looks at you and you turn the phone to her.

"ha, i guess people enjoyed themselves just as much as i did," you scrunch your face at the comment, "what did you not enjoy yourself, because we can try it again," she laughs.

[tainted-wine]

I hope you don’t mind this being exclusive for the Pro-Heroes!

(NSFW)

Papers? Check. Writing utensils? Check. Lube? Check.

You were primed and ready to begin this cocktastic journey. Completing this project will be a great benefit to Thirstology. You can’t believe that they put their trust in you to collect such valuable information from several willing participants. There’s no way you’re going to let the people at National Thirst Studies down.

With your lower body completely bare, you and your ambitious pussy set out to begin the cockwarming interviews.

Yagi Toshinori/All Might

Pre-Notes: The Symbol of Peace. It’s still surreal to see him in such a fragile state. Strangely enough, I never once asked myself: Does All Might fuck? “Obviously he was too pure for fucking,” is what I would have said before I devoted my life to Thirst Studies. But I have learned over the years that there is no such thing as purity.

------

After he got over the initial shock of you wearing no pants or underwear, you were finally able to begin your study and ask him the main question.

You barely dodged the spray of blood spewing out of his mouth. “Am I into what?” He sputtered.

“Cockwarming, sir. The act of settling a penis in a nice cozy orifice. There’s no movement, only penetration. Surely you already at least knew the definition when you agreed to this?” You offered him a paper towel, which he accepted with a choked “thank you.”

“Midnight told me this would be about intimate relationships,” he anxiously explained while wiping the red off of his lips. “But I wasn’t expecting to hear something that graphic.”

Ah, so he was talked into this. “Well, with your permission, I can give you a personal demonstration.”

His answer was inaudible the first time; you had to ask him to speak up in order to hear his adorably high “yes.” He was a lot shyer than you imagined. Poor guy was shaking like he was on a verge of a heart attack when you took his cock out and boy, did he put the ‘long’ in ‘schlong.’ But your mission wasn’t to admire the dick’s appearance, it was to learn how their owners used them inside a hot snatch. You climbed onto him and lowered yourself and ooooh shit, both of you were moaning as his inches sank into you. You couldn’t take it all, but it was more than enough to get the job done.

“Mmnngh, yes, very long. Pushing almost painfully,” You said through clenched teeth, scribbling in your notepad as you sat semi-comfortably in his lap. “Can you give me your input, Toshinori? How is this feeling for you?”

“Blrraaaffggg.”

“Toshi?”

“…”

He laid limp in the interview chair as crimson liquid continued to flow from his mouth. Well, this is troublesome. You’ll have to wait for him to regain consciousness to hear his feedback.

------

Conclusion: This was his first time experiencing cockwarming. He described it as ‘intense, but not unpleasant’. Unfortunately, whenever I ask for more details, he would get too embarrassed to share anything. Frankly, this isn’t the most fruitful start to my series of interviews, but it was a great privilege to meet the amazing All Might.

Shouta Aizawa/Eraserhead

Pre-Notes: I honestly don’t even know who the hell this is. An underground hero, apparently. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you that he brought a cat with him. I told him that it needs to stay outside during the interview, but the difficult bastard was ready to turn around and leave unless I allowed the furball in. What a hassle. Do I even want to sit on this man?

------

You’re thankful that you did, in fact, sit on this man. His sleek ebony cat was relaxing in your lap while your pink kitty was stuffed with his cock. Despite his indifference to the situation, it was strangely intimate. Taking notes over a cute feline while his length twitched inside you was rather challenging.

“You seem like a rather exhausted fellow. Is it maybe the laid-back nature of the act that you find so alluring?” You asked.

“Mmhmm.” His arms circled around you to stroke his adorable pet.

“Being able to just wind down by giving your hard snake a wet hot crib to rest in?”

“Mmmmm.”

“I would appreciate a more elaborate answer.”

“Mmmmm...”

You shifted just enough to turn your head and see Aizawa’s head lolled back, his breaths getting heavier after each exhale. You can feel him quickly going soft inside you.

Ugh...

------

Conclusion: Given that he fell asleep in the middle of the demonstration, it’s safe to say that he finds the act very relaxing. I can only make guesses because the moment he woke up, he hurried me off his lap, picked up his cat and headed out. I did my best to chase him and ask if I could at least hear his final thoughts, but that bastard leaps on cars and buildings as skillfully as Edgeshot.

Hizashi Yamada/Present Mic

Pre-Notes: I’m not sure what to expect from the Voice Hero. His radio show has hosted some surprisingly insightful interviews. Unlike the last two, he will hopefully have some truly constructive answers to give.

------

“Not gonna lie, I always wanted to try this!”

Both of you were red in the face as you sat on his throbbing cock. Despite the blush and slight shake in his voice, he was as cheerful as ever. “Sometimes I just wonder, it would be pretty cool to just have a hottie warmin’ me up during my show, ya dig? No sex, though. I know I’m not quiet enough to get away with that on the air!” He laughed loudly right into your ear.

Well that kinda hurt, but it’s nice to finally have a fully cooperative interviewee. You were actually able to ask all of your planned questions for once, and Hizashi gave a satisfying answer to each one.

Unfortunately, it just couldn’t go perfectly, and his phone ended up ringing near the end of the interview.

“Hold on, listener. I gotta take this.”

Did he really? You wished he would wait until you were done.

You felt him lean back as you remained on his lap. “Shouta, buddy! What’s goin’ on?”

Shouta? Does he mean...?

“Sorry about that! I’m not home yet, I’m doin’ a...special interview, with a hard-working thirstologist.” You heard the voice on the other end respond, and Hizashi made a noise of confusion. “Eh? What do you mean ‘you too?’”

Oh dear, he does. They actually know each other.

The conversation quickly transformed into an argument, a loud one. The two heroes apparently have some...tension between them.

“Oh, so I throw hints at you for years and you act as innocent as your cats, but you’ll sit down and let a girl hop on your dick during an interview?!”

You had to lift yourself off of his softening member and take shelter from his booming voice. He was tucking himself back into his pants with one hand as he marched out of the room, but his hurt and anger was still loud and clear. “Don’t give me that bull. I bet if I hit you with twenty one questions about cockwarming, you’d just pretend you’re asleep! Oh, you actually did fall asleep? Huh.”

You awkwardly collected your notes as the two gentlemen were seemingly making up.

“Damn right I’ve always felt this way. Oh man, you better get ready tonight because I’ve got over ten years of pent up feelings, and you’re gonna take it all.”

------

Conclusion: It feels good to have a full interview. In summary, Hizashi is intrigued by the combination of closeness and casualness of it all. His interest in cockwarming during his jobs also indicate a possible thrill out of doing it in public. In addition, I’d like to announce with some pride that I may have assisted in taking two friends to the next level of their relationship.

Hawks

Pre-Notes: I’m eager to hear what the handsome winged hero has to say. I wouldn’t mind if we just stare at each other throughout the entire interview. My lust for him is unbearably strong and I’m not sure why. It’s probably just the horny writer’s obvious bias towards this bird. She could use another hobby.

------

Hawks laughed once you gave him the question that officially begins the interview. “Gotta admit, I’ve actually never tried it.”

That’s a surprise that you quickly jot down in your notes. “I see. Is it something you’re interested in trying? I can give you a demonstration right here.”

“Oh? I’d love one.”

You try not to look too excited as you leave your seat and move to undo his pants, but Hawks raises a hand.

“But I want you to do it on your knees.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “My knees? How do I-”

“With your mouth.”

Oh my.

You granted his request and kneeled down to take his half-hard cock into your mouth.

“Ahhh, that’s nice.” He sighed loudly, spreading his legs more as he stared down at you.

You detached your mouth from him to speak. “Can you tell me what it is that you-mmffrrf.”

A hand pushed you back down onto his man meat. “No no no, just...stay right there. I’ll do the talking in a minute.”

You sat there with his cock growing in the heat of your mouth. Hawks’s eyes were closed, a small content smile on his face. Every time you lifted your head just an inch, the hand on your head pressed you back down. Just when this interview was starting to feel more like a hookup, he finally began to talk.

“Oh yeah, I’ve fantasized stuff like this. You got a shitty boss? I do, don’t tell them I said that, though. They’re always finding something to get on my ass about. Working me like a dog everyday, expecting me to pull off these insane missions flawlessly.”

All you could do was look up and listen to his rant. He must have loved the sight of you, going by the strong twitch of his length in your mouth.

“They just keep asking more and more from me. ‘Do this faster next time, Hawks!’ or ‘I know you’ve never done something like this before, but don’t fail us, Hawks!’ Sometimes I just wanna shove something in their mouths...like my dick. Can you relate?”

You shook your head as well as you could in your current position.

He shrugged. “Oh well. As far as I know, I’ll always be the one getting fucked by them. But something like this...” He pat your head. “Ah yeah, it would be so nice to see them like this...”

------

Conclusion: Hawks was sadly short on time and had to leave before I could even get into the questions. Going by the very personal feelings and frustrations he shared, Hawks enjoys the dominance displayed from cockwarming, and prefers it be done orally. I will respect his wishes and not reveal any of the opinions that he shared about the establishment he works for and its executives.

Taishiro Toyomitsu/Fat Gum

Pre-Notes: It’s best that I continue to be honest: I’m anxious. Fat Gum is one of the biggest heroes around, and I just know that there is a deadly pillar of pussy destruction in those pants. I know that I should be more concerned with the questions, but it just won’t leave my mind.

------

“So, what experience do you have with this, Toyomitsu?”

The large man chuckled. He was currently in his skinny form, which you’re pretty thankful for since his fat form would have been beyond awkward to straddle. That would be like trying to hump one of those giant inflatable characters at parades. “A pretty lady I knew was really into it! I tried it for her sake, but I’ll say this with no ego, my sausage ain’t something to be taken lightly! Still, she was determined, and I was really digging just how strong her will was to take me.”

‘She sounds like a very brave soul,‘ you thought as your pen glided across your paper.

“I couldn’t believe it when she managed to get all of me inside. She couldn’t either, because she passed out! At first I just wanted to laugh it off,” he cackled as if to give an example, but his face quickly drooped into a somber expression. “But then I realized she wasn’t breathing...” His eyes shut in pain and sorrow. “And I couldn’t find a pulse...”

You nearly dropped your pen in horror. “My goodness, Toyomitsu. I’m so sor-”

“I’m just messin’ with ya! She’s fine!” His face immediately brightened up again, leaving you shocked and somewhat upset over the scare. “But seriously, if you want a seat on this big boy, I hope you’ve got plenty of lube on hand.”

“Don’t worry, I do. More than enough for the biggest flesh towers.”

But your doubts instantly returned when the bulging monster was freed from his pants. It’s huge. Toshinori may have been long, but this monster was unbelievable in both length and girth.

Your fear must have been evident on your face, because Toyomitsu asked, “You sure you wanna do this? Don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

You whipped out your bottle of lube and drenched your hands. “Thirstology is my passion. My life’s work. I am more than willing to put my life on the line for science.”

The hero raised an eyebrow. “It’s...not that serious, but I really like your guts, missy.” He gave himself a few strokes. “So let me tear them up.”

Even with the coatings of lube inside your pussy and on his massive cock, this was still the most arduous task you have ever performed in your life. You didn’t know it was possible to be stretched this far. The light blonde was mesmerized by your trembles and scrunched expressions and as you tried to take more of him, his mouth slightly open when he noticed the swell in your lower abdomen.

“Oh, that is hot.”

------

Conclusion: I did it. I took the Fat Gun. Fat Gum himself takes a lot of pleasure in watching the strain of someone trying to take him in, and due to his partner often being much smaller than him, the tightness is very pleasurable to him. He was the only interviewee that actually came during the demonstration, so I suppose it’s safe to say that he is the biggest fan of cockwarming out of the five. He was very panicked when he came inside me, but I reassured him that I am on the pill. This is still a hell of a mess to clean up, however.

(I hope the information I have obtained will be useful for the institute. Thank you for giving me this opportunity)