#I hate them I hope they implode

[ghostatrandom]

When I'm in a yearning and loving in silence competition and my opponent is Wildberry Cookie

[mushed-kid]

..

[creature-stage]

i'm honest to god praying this site dies and if it does i'm going down with it

[folksyswift]

We hereby conduct this post-mortem… Knew he was a killer first time that I saw him. If I bleed you’ll be the last to know. I feel like I might sink and drown and die. What doesn't kill me makes me want you more. My broken bones are mending from all these nights we’re spending. Do I really have to tell you how he brought me back to life? I can't let you go, your handprints on my soul. Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep. My one and only, my lifeline. Remember how I said I'd die for you? Combat, I'm ready for combat. Threw out our cloaks and our daggers 'cause saying goodbye is death by a thousand cuts but I would die for you in secret. You fire off missiles 'cause you hate yourself but do you know you're demolishing me? I am ash from your fire. Break my soul in two looking for you but you're right here. "It only hurts this much right now" was what I was thinkin' the whole time. You assume I'm fine, and you don't really read into my melancholia. My depression works the graveyard shift. All my mornings are Mondays stuck in an endless February. In the shade of how he was feeling. Catastrophic blues, my sadness is contagious. I know my pain is such an imposition. I dream of crackin' locks, throwin' my life to the wolves or the ocean rocks. Make it make some sense why the wound is still bleedin' and I'm fadin'. Just how low did you think I'd go 'fore I'd self-implode? My spine split from carrying us up the hill and all I did was bleed as I tried to be the bravest soldier. I'm getting tired even for a phoenix, always risin' from the ashes, mendin' all the gashes. Wet through my clothes, weary bones caught the chill. My face was gray, but you wouldn't admit that we were sick til we were too far gone to bring back to life. I can't find a pulse, my heart won't start anymore for you. I stopped CPR, after all, it's no use the spirit was gone, we would never come to. Our maladies were such we could not cure them. Two graves, one gun. Say it once again with feeling how the death rattle breathing silenced as the soul was leaving. The deflation of our dreaming leaving me bereft and reeling. My beloved ghost and me, sitting in a tree D-Y-I-N-G. You know there's many different ways that you can kill the one you love. The slowest way is never loving them enough.

[burrowswomen]

❥ JUNO ━━━━━ JOE BURROW

: ̗̀➛ word count: 1.9k

: ̗̀➛ warnings: nothing really? I think

: ̗̀➛ noor speaks: this is my first time writing for Tumblr, so please give me any feedback! theirs so many talented writers on here, so I fear my Wattpad-level writing does not even begin to compare. but this is an idea that I basically think about a lot. I've had this in my drafts since December but since miss carpenter FINALLY released short n sweet deluxe, figured might as well finish it.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The night was electric.

Fans filled the sold-out paycor stadium, their glow sticks lighting up the space like a galaxy of pink and gold. The air was thick with excitement, the lingering hum of thousands of voices buzzing even after Y/N had just finished performing one of her biggest songs. The final notes of the track faded into the background as she took a moment to catch her breath, her chest rising and falling beneath the soft glow of the stage lights.

Then—she froze.

A shift in the atmosphere. A sudden, dramatic pause.

The audience sensed something coming.

Y/N took a slow step forward, pressing her mic to her lips, her expression unreadable. Her eyes scanned the massive crowd, searching, thinking, as if she had just realized something of grave importance.

Then, she whispered into the mic.

“Wait.”

The crowd’s cheers faltered slightly, their energy now laced with curiosity.

“Wait, wait, wait…”

Y/N held up a hand, signaling them to quiet down. Her gaze narrowed, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. The anticipation built as the massive screens around the venue zoomed in on her face. Then, as if she had just made the discovery of a lifetime, she let out a dramatic gasp, clutching her chest like she was shook to her core.

“Oh my God.”

The entire arena erupted.

The screams were deafening. Fans immediately started scanning the crowd, clutching at their friends, already knowing what was about to happen. Some pointed randomly, hoping it was them she was looking at. 

Y/N took another step forward, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Guys…" she whispered, as if in awe. "I think I just found my future husband."

The crowd lost their minds.

The screams doubled, fans started jumping, their voices rising to ear-splitting levels. Even her own dancers on stage turned their heads, their eyes wide with fake shock.

Y/N turned to them, placing a hand over her mic. "Girls, girls, come here."

Two of her dancers strutted over, their hips swaying dramatically like they were part of an elite investigative team.

Y/N bit her lip, looking back into the audience, then pointed. “There.”

The spotlight moved—sweeping over the crowd before stopping at a single figure standing near the barricade.

And that’s when the entire stadium imploded.

joe burrow

The camera zoomed in just as he looked up, his face suddenly plastered across the massive screens.

Baseball cap. Casual hoodie. Hands in his pockets. His head tilted slightly as he blinked, his face betraying just the slightest amount of shock.

Y/N smirked.

She shifted her weight, placing a hand on her hip. “Hey there.”

Joe hesitated, raising an eyebrow before pointing at himself, mouthing me?

Y/N nodded, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Yes, you."

She sighed dramatically, shaking her head. "I really, really hate to do this, but…" She placed a delicate hand over her heart, pretending to look deeply troubled.

“…you’re under arrest.”

The arena lost it.

Fans screamed. Some straight-up collapsed. Others gripped their heads, as if they had just witnessed the greates pop culture moment in history.

Joe raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching as he tried so hard not to smile.

"Really?"

Y/N nodded, dead serious. "Mhm. You are simply too attractive to be standing there so casually. It’s a danger to public safety. A crime, actually."

The crowd erupted again,

Joe let out a small laugh, shaking his head. "That so?"

Y/N nodded dramatically. "Yeah. And to be completely honest…" She reached up, pretending to fan herself. "I’m actually starting to feel a little hot myself."

And just then—one of her dancers, standing strategically next her, let go of her floor-length skirt, letting it drop to the ground.

Revealing her mini pink sparkly skirt underneath.

The stadium exploded.

Y/N casually stepped out of the fabric pile at her feet, flipping her hair before turning back to Joe like nothing happened.

"But uhm…" She tilted her head. "What’s your name, sir?"

Joe grinned, stepping closer to the barricade. "Joe!"

Y/N cupped her ear. "Hmm?"

Joe, laughing now, shouted louder. "Joe!"

Y/N squinted, pretending to struggle. "I still can’t hear you…" She sighed, shaking her head. "I’m afraid I’m just going to have to call you…" She smirked.

"My husband."

The screaming from the crowd was unreal.

Joe tilted his head back, laughing as the camera zoomed in on his blush.

Meanwhile, Y/N had fully turned away from the mic, covering her mouth with both hands, shoulders shaking with laughter. But even as she tried to compose herself, the deep pink flush across her cheeks was giving her away completely.

The entire stadium was in ruins.

She cleared her throat, biting back a smile as she casually walked over to the edge of the stage.

A pair of fuzzy pink handcuffs appeared in her hand.

She twirled them between her fingers for a moment before passing them to her security guard.

The crowd screamed even louder as the guard took them, walked over to Joe, and handed them straight to him.

Joe took them, turning them over in his hands with a smirk, before glancing back up at Y/N.

Y/N, flushed and grinning, gave a small, cheeky wave before flipping her hair and sauntering back to the middle of the stage.

"Alright, now that justice has been served…" She fixed her hair, voice slightly breathless from laughing. "Let’s get back to the music, shall we?"And just like that, the beat for juno dropped, the lights shifted, and she launched into the next song—leaving the entire stadium absolutely wrecked.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The buzz of the crowd’s cheers had finally begun to fade, the lights dimming as Y/N sat in the cozy confines of her trailer. The night had been absolutely electrifying—the adrenaline from performing still coursing through her veins. Her mind, however, was racing in a different direction. The last few moments on stage, arresting Joe, calling him her future husband—it all felt like a whirlwind. But the excitement hadn’t quite settled yet.

She stepped toward the mirror, her eyes going over herself, internally reflecting on everything, she found herself wondering what came next. The door to her trailer was locked, her safe space away from the chaos outside.

Suddenly, a knock at the door snapped her out of her thoughts.

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t been expecting anyone. She hurried to open the door, her breath catching in her throat.

Joe Burrow

her boyfriend

Before she could say a word, he pulled her into his arms, wrapping her up in a warm, familiar embrace. His hands cupped the back of her head, pulling her closer, and she let out a soft sigh against his chest.

“You did wonderful, baby,” Joe whispered into her hair, his voice low and tender.

Y/N smiled, feeling the tension in her body release from the comfort of his arms. "Thank you, Joey," she murmured, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “And thank you for agreeing to let me arrest you. I know it was out of your comfort zone.”

Joe chuckled softly, his hands slipping to her waist as he gazed down at her. “You kidding? I would do anything for you.”

Her heart fluttered, the sweet sincerity in his words making her feel like the luckiest person alive. She couldn’t help but smile, feeling warmth spread through her chest at the thought of him being so supportive. The way he looked at her—it was like nothing else mattered, like they were the only two people in the world.

He leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, gentle kiss. It was as if he was savoring the moment, drawing her in with each tender motion. Y/N melted into him, her hands resting on his chest as the kiss deepened.

But soon, the kiss grew more urgent, the need between them building in a way that was undeniable. Y/N could feel the intensity rising, the pull of desire swirling around them. Joe’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, but she could sense the urgency in the kiss, the way it was becoming more than just a simple expression of love.

Not here. Not now.

Y/N broke away from the kiss, breathless. “Joey…” she mumbled against his lips, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. She felt his body tense against hers, but he didn’t pull away. instead, moving forward until they were both now sitting on the couch in the trailer.

“Hmmm?” he hummed, his hands still resting on her lower back as he nuzzled her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

“We can’t,” she said softly, her voice shaking slightly. She wanted him, more than anything, but the reality of the situation hit her—anyone could walk in at any moment. They were in her trailer, the door just a few feet away from where they stood. The risk was too great.

Joe groaned in frustration but didn’t let go. “Baby, you look so…” His words trailed off as he rubbed her lower back gently, his fingers pressing into the soft fabric of her top. “So damn beautiful.”

Y/N smiled despite herself, her heart fluttering at the way he looked at her. She could feel the heat rising between them again, the magnetic pull she had always felt with Joe. She wanted nothing more than to give in to it, to let the world fall away and just be with him.

But she knew they couldn't. it's too risky.

“Joey…” She bit her lip, trying to resist the temptation to kiss him again. “We have to wait until we get home.”

Joe pouted, a look of pure disappointment crossing his features. He dropped his hands from her waist, staring at her with those puppy-dog eyes that always made her question everything.

Y/N couldn’t help herself. She laughed, her fingers finding his jaw again as she pulled him closer. “Oh, come on, baby,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “You’re such a tease.”

Joe’s pout turned into a smile as she kissed him back, this time slower, more deliberate. Y/N melted into him, her hands trailing up to his hair as the kiss deepened once again.

But before things could escalate further, she pulled away, breathless. “We really have to wait,” she said, giving him a playful push.

Joe let out a resigned sigh, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’re killing me here,” he muttered, but his tone was warm, filled with love and affection.

“I know, but…” Y/N looked at him seriously for a moment. “It’s good to wait, builds up the tension Joey.”

Joe grinned, his arms slipping around her once more. “oh, I've heard.” he whispered, his voice laced with affection.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh softly as she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer. “Good,” she said with a smile.

As they sat there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside the trailer seemed so far away. The chaos of the concert, the fans screaming her name, it all felt distant. In this moment, it was just her and Joe, lost in the quiet connection they shared.

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

Let’s just say—you didn’t move the entire next day.

You were sore in places you didn’t even know existed, your body still aching from the night before. And honestly? you didn’t care. The memory of last night played on a loop in your mind as you stayed wrapped in the warmth of the sheets, Joe’s peaceful snores filling the room.

[lovelivision]

SLEEP OVER PT.1

pairing: fushiguro toji/reader

wc: 2.3k

summary: staying the night at your boyfriends place for the first time is nervewracking, especially when he seems to feel a certain way about you wearing his clothes

a/n; dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf dilf...uhm anyways...i lurv toji a lot and i needed to write something for him, i thought it would fix me but it may have made me worse :D also, i would like to write a part 2 for this maybe :3

warnings: 18+ only, smut, established relationship, tiny bit of possessiveness, (minor) size difference kink, heavy petting, dry humping, afab!reader, no use of pronouns or y/n, nicknames used; doll, ma'am (once in a joking way)

MDNI | SMUT UNDER CUT

Hovering in Toji’s kitchen, you try to make yourself seem more relaxed, you’ve been in his house plenty of times now but this time is different. This is the first time you’re staying the night, alone, in his house, with him.

Besides heavy petting, nothing more has ever happened between the two of you, to say you have expectations is an understatement. It doesn’t have to happen but you’ve been together for a little bit now and there’s only so long you can hold out, you mean, have you seen Toji?

He’s been patient, you were initially the one who said you didn’t want to rush things, you were scared of just being a lay and asked him to wait until you felt ready, which he has respected. He’s respected it…too well, barely making out before he’s parting from you. The sexual frustration you’ve been feeling has you wound so tight that you might literally implode as soon as he touches you.

From across the counter separating you, he teases, “You gonna help me over here? Or did you propose baking together just to watch me do it for you?”

“Well… I am enjoying the view,” you flirt back, playing off the stiffness in your joints.

He raises a brow at you, “How about you flirt with me while whisking that bowl right there,” he nods down to the bowl just off to his side.

“Yessir,” you stand at attention and throw a little salute his way.

When you round the bench to stand next to him, he bumps into your shoulder with his own, “You feeling okay, doll?”

You hum and look up at him, “Yeah, I’m good.”

It’s mostly quiet after that, aside from small talk and teasing remarks made while you finish prepping the ingredients. You told him that sleepovers needed brownies and he went out and bought stuff to make them, it was incredibly sweet and made you almost swoon on the spot when you showed up and he told you what he’d done.

Unluckily for you and your clumsy nature, his sink sprays a bunch of water down your front as you’re washing a dish. You let out an unceremonious squeaking sound at the sudden rush of cold running all the way down your pyjama shirt, to your pants.

The bowl Toji was holding clatters a bit as he drops it to be at your side, “What happened?” He asks before seeing your drenched clothes, an amused smile taking place where his concern was sitting, “You’re not much help in the kitchen, huh?”

“Hey!” you frown at him, “I am perfectly helpful, thank you very much. It’s not my fault your sink hates me.” You feel like a wet cat under his gaze, “What am I meant to do now? These are the only pyjamas I bought with me,” you pout slightly, looking down at your ruined clothes.

“Just wear something of mine,” he shrugs easily.

The idea of wearing his comfortable clothes makes your skin buzz, “Okay… thank you,” you mumble at him.

He scoffs at your sudden coyness, “You want me to pick something out for you or do you got it?”

“No, I got it,” you smile at him before turning to wander through the house to his room.

Shuffling through his drawers, you find a shirt and some sweatpants to wear. They’re large on you, the whole look incredibly baggy, having to pull the drawstrings on his sweats a bit tighter to make sure they stay up. You feel better though, warm, you hope he won’t mind but you had to borrow a pair of his boxers as well…

When you walk back into the kitchen, Toji does a double take on you, his eyes widening slightly, “You comfy?”

“Very,” you walk up to him, “You finish with the brownie mix?”

He stares at you for a moment before replying, “…Yeah, they’re in the oven.”

“Nice, putting the mix in the tray is my least favourite part, it’s always so sticky and messy and I end up getting frustrated because it won’t all go in and then I need another spoon to get the mix off the spatula and then I have to go back and forth…” You trail off, noticing he’s not really paying attention to what you’re saying, he is looking at you though, “Toji, Something wrong?”

He considers you for a moment, “You look cute,” is all he says.

You feel shy under his gaze now, not expecting him to compliment you so sincerely, “So do you?”

He barks a laugh at your clumsy compliment, “Alright, wanna watch something while we wait?” He changes the topic.

“Sure!”

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁

He’s not as subtle as he thinks he is, his hand rests on your thigh, rubbing his thumb in circles but just because he’s not subtle doesn’t mean it’s not working. The tv plays some movie in front of the pair of you but you can’t pay attention, you’ve not retained a single plot point, his warm hand on your thigh is all you can feel, all you can register.

You have a feeling you’re going to have to be the one to break this, the weird limbo you’re both in. Turning your head to the side and looking up, you aren’t ready for how he’s already looking down at you, his hand on your thigh reaches for the side of your face, cradling you gently. He moves in slowly, giving you the chance to pull back in protest if you don’t want him to kiss you.

You want it though and lean up the rest of the way, kissing him deeply, wanting to put your lips on him for nearly the whole time you’ve been here. He meets your eagerness, his hand holding you more firmly, his tongue licking into your mouth, wanting to taste you. His body moves into yours more, his other hand grabbing at your hip.

His kisses grow rushed and he ends up trailing them to your neck, kissing and licking along the exposed skin there. The hand on your face angles you to his will, manoeuvring you every which way so he can get his lips on whatever part of you he desires.

Huffed out whine leave you at the way he nips at your skin, he has enough of the odd angle and pulls you onto his lap completely, sitting back as his hands roam your body over his clothes.

“Toji,” you whine out his name.

His eyes look into yours, “Do you need me to stop?”

Shaking your head at him, you say, “No, I need more…”

“You really do look cute in my clothes,” he murmurs, leaning in again and pressing a full kiss to your lips, “You look comfortable… all wrapped up in my clothes.” He reiterates that they are in fact his clothes you’re wearing.

His hands move under the large shirt, groping at your bare skin, delighting in the warmth and plushness of you. Your body breaks out in goose bumps as a noticeable shiver runs down your spine, his touch electrifying to you.

“My, how sensitive you are,” he teases you, a self-satisfied grin making its way onto his face.

“Shut up,” you snark back, “Just… kiss me again?”

His smile grows, “Yes ma’am,” he jokes before kissing you again.

You’re getting lost in it, in the feel of his lips on yours, it’s making you dizzy and needy. Your hips grind down into his on their own accord and Toji moans against you, surprised by the sudden friction. Recovering quickly, his hands grab your hips and encourage you to keep going, your clothed cunt dragging up and down his covered cock has spots in your vision.

Your hands grip the fabric of his shirt tight, your lips disconnecting from his every time you moan, only for him to press them back together. His dick twitches in his pants, painfully erect and sensitive, he has a feeling he could cum like this.

This is the furthest the two of you have gone so far and he’s not wasting this opportunity, he needs to see you cum, he needs to hear it. The grip he has on you is harsh, his hips rut up into yours which results in the most pathetic sound he’s ever heard coming from you… he needs more.  

Pulling back, you whinge, “Toji~ I wan– t more… I want more.”

“Well… I want you to cum while wearing my clothes,” he counters.

You gasp at his blunt words, “I–”

You don’t get the chance to finish your thought, his hips thrusting up, the shock delicious. His dick is leaking profusely in his pants, he’s way too sensitive right now, for his grown age. You’d asked to go slow and he complied but that didn’t mean he didn’t have to furiously jerk himself off after your visits.

Toji’s boxers are uncomfortably wet against your core, slick and stuck to your pussy with how worked up he’s gotten you. All the layers are upsetting you; you just want one less layer, his pants, your pants, you don’t care, you just need more.

“Toji, lemme take off the sweats, please, please, please,” you all but beg at him.

“No. Told you,” he scolds, “I want you cumming in my clothes.”

“Mmm but…” You hesitate.

You’ve caught his interest, quirking a brow at you, he asks, “But what?”

You decide to tell him even though you’re a little embarrassed, “I’m also wearing your boxers.”

He holds you still against him, a sound of objection coming from you at the lack of friction, “You’re wearing my boxers?”

You nod quickly, hoping for this line of questioning to be done soon, “I am.”

“Why?”

You look down, to where you’re sat on top of him, his large cock strained against his pants, you falter slightly in your answer, distracted. Toji’s hand tapping against your thigh brings you back, “Mine were wet from the sink…”

He tugs at the sweats, “Take these off, right now.”

Standing on wobbly legs, you undo the drawstring on his pants and slip them down.

Toji groans at the sight of your bare legs, “Lift up my shirt,” he directs.

Which you do, biting your lip, trying to fight off the urge to run away in embarrassment. Your hands hold his shirt up slightly, exposing to him how you’re wearing his boxers.

His eyes scan your lower half carefully, his heart stuttering in is chest. His light grey boxers dark where your arousal has pooled, “Fuck, come here,” he pats his lap, grabbing you when you’re close enough. “You’re so fucking wet, doll, shit.”

When you’re back on his lap, he wastes no time, his cock rubs between your folds, parting them from under his boxers, the friction different and consuming. This feels so much better than before, it feels almost intense after getting minimal sensation.

“Toji~ I don’t think I’ll last long like this,” you admit, feeling shame from how pathetic you must seem.

“Good,” he groans, his hips thrusting up into yours while his hands drag you back and forth on his cock, “I won’t either.”

To hear he’s just as effected by this as you are makes your cunt pulse around nothing, a whimper leaving you from how pathetically empty you feel, “I still want more,” you pout.

“Later,” he promises.

Your skin buzzes and your stomach clenches, your fingers dig into his shoulders, feeling impossibly close to finishing. Your eyes grow dazed, hot, huffed breaths leaving your parted lips. The sight has Toji’s cock twitching profusely, barely fighting off his orgasm, wanting to see you cum first.

“Come on, doll, I need to see it,” he tugs you quicker, your slick cunt sliding easily against his pants, the wetness seeping through the boxers onto them, “I need to see you cum for me.”

You shudder at his words, “I’m gonna–”

One of his hands leave your hip and slides to your face, his thumb pressing past your lips, you take it and suck on it, tongue licking the pad of it gently. A moan from deep in his chest rumbles under your hands, it’s all too much. Your cunt flutters against him and your eyes roll back, moans muffled around his thumb as your cum gushes from your pussy, coating his boxers even more.

Toji can’t help but watch, he’s watching you so closely, his cock cumming very suddenly. Your orgasm, the dumb look in your eyes, the flutter of your lashes, the shake in your body as you cum in his clothes undoes him. His own cum seeps into his pants, a large, wet stain growing on his sweats as his dick jerks with his orgasm.

He pulls his thumb from your mouth, dragging your lower lip down with it, “Fuck,” he bites out.

He rides out both your highs, lightly grinding his hips up into you as you both come down. Your form collapses into him, curling yourself around him. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as you jolt every now and again, it’s cute, he thinks.

You lay peacefully like this for a moment before you remember, “The brownies,” you try to pull yourself away from him.

“They’re fine, oven went off only a moment ago,” he hums.

“I’ll go grab them then,” you say.

“Alright, shaky, off you go,” he mocks you and your jelly legs.

Pulling back, you frown at him, “I will.”

He just smiles knowingly at you.

Crawling off him carefully, you stand on your shaky legs momentarily before sitting back down on the couch next to him, “Maybe you should go get them.”

“Mhm,” he answers, leaning over he presses a kiss to your cheek, “That’s what I thought.”

You cross your arms over your chest and scowl at him, pretending to be more upset than you actually are.

Toji goes into the kitchen and pulls the brownies out, he calls over to you, “So… I hope you like the corners of your brownies a little crispy.”

You can’t help but laugh at that.

PLAGIARISM NOT CONDONED | REPOSTS NOT AUTHORISED

[gnaisanty]

GOING PUBLIC - JUNG HOSEOK / J-HOPE X Y/N

( IDOL AU ) HOSEOK X Y/N

The first person he told was Namjoon.

Which made sense, really. If BTS were a solar system, Namjoon was the sun—calm, constant, thoughtful. Hoseok said he wanted someone who would listen without freaking out or telling him he’d lost his mind.

He came back from their conversation with a quiet smile and his hand warm in mine.

“What did he say?” I asked.

Hoseok leaned against the wall beside my kitchen window. “He said, ‘It’s about time.’”

I blinked. “He knew?”

He laughed softly. “Apparently, I’m not as sneaky as I thought.”

The next day, he told the others.

Jin teased him mercilessly, of course. Taehyung said he’d guessed it too—because “you talk about her like she’s a lyric you haven’t written yet.” Yoongi just grunted and said, “Don’t mess it up.”

Jungkook looked at me when we met and said, “You make him calm. That’s good.”

It wasn’t an announcement or a dramatic moment—it was just… shared. Accepted.

Real.

But going public to the fans? That was another beast entirely.

The idea came from him.

“I want to do it in my words,” he said one night, head resting in my lap as we sat on my balcony. “Not some cold PR statement. Just me. Talking.”

I threaded my fingers through his hair. “Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything these days,” he said. “Except you.”

And just like that, we had a plan.

He filmed a video late at night in his studio. No makeup, no script. Just him, sitting cross-legged on the couch, speaking directly to the camera.

"Hi, ARMY. It’s your sunshine. There’s something I want to tell you—not as J-Hope, but as Hoseok..."

He kept it short. Honest. Warm.

He didn’t mention my name, but he didn’t have to.

"I’ve met someone who makes me laugh when I’m tired, feel steady when I’m overwhelmed, and reminds me that being human is the best part of all of this. I’m grateful to have her in my life."

He paused then, smiling that soft, private smile that only I really knew.

"I hope you’ll support me like you always have. I love you. Thank you."

He posted it late at night and then turned off his phone.

I did the same.

We lay in bed, facing each other in the dark, hearts pounding.

“What if they hate me?” I whispered.

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?”

He touched my cheek. “Because they love me. And I love you.”

The next morning, we woke up to a miracle.

The internet had not imploded.

Sure, there were some trolls. There always are. But the hashtag #WeLoveYouHobi trended worldwide for twelve hours straight. Fans posted messages filled with love, respect, and—shockingly—joy.

Many wrote things like:

“He deserves to be happy.” “If she makes him feel safe, then she’s already family.” “Our sunshine finally has someone to light up for.”

I read until tears blurred my vision.

Hoseok held me, arms wrapped around me from behind as we scrolled together.

He kissed my temple. “See? They don’t hate you.”

I turned to him, a grin spreading across my face. “They kind of love me.”

He laughed. “Get in line. I loved you first.”

That night, we posted a photo on his account—just our hands intertwined on a table, a coffee cup beside them.

No caption. No tags.

It didn’t need any.

It was quiet.

It was brave.

It was ours.

[keithyp00]

'*•.¸♡ Stupid Cupid, Stop Picking On Me ♡¸.•*'

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Warnings/Tags: slow-burn, romance, humor, fluff, slight angst, mutual pining, romantic tension, morning sweetness, vulnerability

Song Inspiration: Stupid Cupid by Connie Francis

Word Count:2.1K

Author Note: Hi again! This fic has been stuck in my head all day so here I am writing it and pushing some of my other fic ideas back a couple of days. My last one didn't do as well as I was hoping overnight so if you like this one please go check out Timeless. Thank you guys! (And Happy Mother's Day for those who celebrate!)

Please do not copy or translate any of my works. Thank you!

You weren't exactly sure when Bucky Barnes became your problem.

Maybe it was when Steve asked you- sweet, pleading Steve- to check in on him after the whole time-travel thing. Maybe it was when you saw Bucky sulking at a farmer's market like a feral cat trying to adapt to a domestic life, poking at ripe peaches like they had personally offended him. Or maybe it was when you found yourself holding two coffee cups and wondering why one of them always seemed to be for him.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered, tripping over a sidewalk crack. "Quit messing with my head."

Because how else could you explain? The flutter in your chest every time Bucky narrowed his eyes at you. The way your stomach flipped when he threw that infuriating little smirk your way- like he knew something that you shouldn't.

You should hate him.

He was moody. He didn't text back. He once told you that your playlist sounded like 'a sock hop and a migraine had a baby.' And yet, when he stood too close in the kitchen of your shared safehouse, or brushed his hand against yours when he passed the remote, you felt like a walking daydream.

______________________________________________________________

It was Tony's lake house, technically. But since he wasn't around anymore- and Sam insisted Bucky get used to 'civilian life'- you'd all rotated through it like some kind of Airbnb. For the last month, it had just been you and him. And your rapidly imploding patience.

"Can you not stare- no, glower- at the mailman like he owes you something?" You asked one sunny morning, squinting through the screen door as Bucky stood on the porch, his arms crossed like some sort of bouncer.

He simply didn't answer, which infuriated you even more.

You groaned, sipping your coffee and reminding yourself to not shove him into the lake. Because despite the grump, despite the sarcasm, despite the fact that he wore gloves in the middle of July sometimes- he was good. He was thoughtful, sometimes in ways that snuck up on you.

Like how he left Post-Its on your laptop that said, 'Eat something.' Or how he'd fixed the wobbly leg on your favorite chair without saying a word. Or how he stood outside your room every night, headphones in, until you fell asleep just to 'make sure it was safe.'

And yeah- maybe you noticed the way his hair curled after a shower. Or how his voice went all gravel and hush when he said your name. Or how he smelled like cedarwood and mystery.

But that didn't mean you liked him. Right?

______________________________________________________________

It was the pie that broke you.

Not your spine in a sparring match. Not the blackout you both endured during a rogue power surge. Not even the time he carried you through mud because you twisted your ankle.

No. It was the goddamn cherry pie.

You were baking. Sort of. Trying to, anyway. The crust was partially uneven, your hands were sticky, and you were muttering something about 'defeating the patriarchy through pastry.'

He leaned in the doorway, arms folded. Watching. Always watching.

"You're talking to the dough," he stated.

You didn't look up. "She's rude. She needs discipline."

Bucky snorted- snorted- and you stared at him like he'd grown another metal arm.

"Did you just laugh?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I don't laugh."

"Tell that to the dough," you snapped, cheeks hot. "What do you want, Barnes?"

"I smelled sugar," he said, shameless. "Was hoping you'd share."

You rolled your eyes. "I thought you didn't like sweets?"

His voice went low. Dangerous. "I like yours."

Your hands froze in the leftover flour.

And suddenly, you weren't thinking about the pie. You were thinking about the way he looked at you sometimes- like he couldn't decide if he wanted to kiss you or run. Like you were both a threat and a safehouse.

"Stupid Cupid," you muttered again, flustered. "I swear to God-"

"What?"

"Nothing."

The pie actually came out fairly decent, the edges of the crust a little burnt, but fairly tolerable. And Bucky, he ate the whole thing, or most of it anyway.

______________________________________________________________

It got worse after that.

Every glance lingered too long. Every argument had an edge of flirtation behind it. You kept pretending not to notice the way he always found a reason to sit beside you. How his knees would bump beneath the table. How he started playing your music in the kitchen.

And when you finally snapped one night- pacing on the porch, wine in hand, muttering about how, 'he's ruining everything with those ridiculous blue eyes'- you hadn't realized he was standing in the doorway behind you.

He pushed his body off the doorframe and walked toward the railing of the porch, his expression incredibly too smug for your liking.

"I'm ridiculous now?"

You flinched, whipping around. "Jesus- do you sneak for fun?"

"Occupational hazard." His smirk widened. "What else did you say about my eyes?"

"Nothing," you said quickly. Too quickly. "Shut up."

He stepped closer. "Make me."

You blinked. Then laughed. Loud, bright, and disbelieving.

"What are you, twelve?"

"I was," he deadpanned. "Once."

You rolled your eyes. "You're impossible."

And then he said it. Quiet. Honest. Barely audible beneath the breeze. "You make it hard."

You blinked again. "What?"

He cleared his throat. Looked away. "To stay... detached."

The wine slipped from your fingers. Luckily, the bottle was already empty.

You stared at him. At the scars on his knuckles. The lashes that framed those godforsaken eyes. The lip he kept biting like he regretted saying anything.

And you realized- he wasn't teasing.

He meant it.

Stupid. Damned. Cupid.

You stepped forward. He didn't flinch.

"I don't want detached," you said softly

He looked at you. Really looked. Like you were sunlight and danger and the last good thing in the world.

His voice cracked. "I'm not easy to love."

"I don't want easy either."

You reached for him. Gloved hand, then metal. He let you, but you heard his breathing stutter. And when you leaned in- testing the waters, testing fate- he met you halfway.

It wasn't fireworks.

It was softer. Stranger. The kind of kiss that steals your balance and leaves you wondering where you end and they begin.

When you finally pulled back, you smiled.

"Still think I talk too much?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

Then he kissed you again. Harder.

______________________________________________________________

Later, tangled on the porch swing with his arm around you and your head on his shoulder, you hummed a familiar tune. Under your breath. Just loud enough for him to hear.

"Stupid Cupid, stop pickin' on me..."

He groaned. "If you start singing that in the morning-"

"You'll what?" You teased. "Fall even more in love with me?"

He didn't answer. But the way he pulled you closer said enough.

______________________________________________________________

You woke up with his hoodie under your cheek and a breeze on your knees.

The sun filtered through the curtains inside like a lazy golden hand, dust swirling in the air like dandelions. You blinked, registering three things:

You were curled up on the porch swing.

Bucky Barnes was asleep beside you.

His metal arm was around your waist like it belonged there.

"Stupid Cupid," you murmured again, though it came out softer this time. Less bitter. Almost... giddy.

His chest rose and fell in a rhythm you were already memorizing. Peaceful. Unarmored. Mouth parted slightly, lashes casting shadows, hair falling into his face.

You wanted to touch him.

Not in the hungry, let's-make-out-on-the-porch kind of way. You simply wanted to run your fingers through his hair. Trace the scar near his eyebrow. Press your palm to the pace just under his collarbone where he always kept his tension.

You settled for tucking his hoodie around his side, trying not to shiver from the early morning air.

"You're staring," he said, voice husky with sleep.

You yelped. "I-no, I was just-"

"Keep lying. You're adorable when you panic."

Your face flushed and Bucky grinned as a response. "So. We kissed."

You tucked your knees under your chin. "We did."

He finally looked at you, blinking slowly. "How do you feel about that?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"On whether you're going to brood about it for three days and avoid me."

He let out a quiet huff of laughter. "I'd never avoid you."

"Really? Because last month you avoided Sam for hating on your music taste."

"That was justified."

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm- flesh, not metal. The little grin that flickered on his lips made your stomach tumble.

"So what does this mean?" You asked quietly. "Us. The... kissing."

He went still. Then sat up, brushing his hair back with one hand.

"It means," he said slowly, "that I want more."

More?

More of you? More kissing? More sleepless nights lying next to each other on a porch swing, tangled up in feelings too big to name?

You swallowed. "Okay."

His eyes searched yours. "Okay?"

You nodded. "Yeah. But you have to stop the staring problem, especially at strangers, I agree with Sam on that one."

"No promises."

______________________________________________________________

You didn't talk about it for a few days. Not directly, anyway.

But everything shifted.

He cooked breakfast before you got up- black coffee, toast, eggs that were slightly overcooked but made with obvious care. You found him waiting on the couch every evening with a blanket folded beside him like an invitation. He started brushing your hand every time you passed him something. Not an accident. Not anymore.

You tried not to let your heart explode about it.

Didn't work.

Especially not when he started calling you 'Doll' without a trace of irony.

Or when he found an old record player in the attic, fixed it, and played your favorite 60s vinyl like it was nothing.

Or when he got jealous over a guy in town who complimented your outfit and sulked for the next hour.

______________________________________________________________

It came to a head one evening during a thunderstorm.

You were barefoot, twirling in the kitchen while "Stupid Cupid" played on the record player- loud and cheeky, your voice warbling off-key along with it.

"Stupid Cupid, you're a real mean guy-"

"Jesus Christ," Bucky muttered behind you, towel around his shoulders, still damp from fixing the gutters in the rain. "You still know all the words?"

You spun, grinning. "I was born in the wrong decade."

"Clearly."

He crossed the kitchen slowly. Red Henley sticking to his chest. Hair dripping onto his forehead. You didn't realize you stopped breathing until he was right in front of you, blue eyes bright, towel abandoned.

"You like this song because it reminds you of me, huh?"

You swallowed. "Maybe."

His hand brushed your waist. "You like me, doll?"

You nodded, heart pounding. "Maybe."

"Then shut up and dance with me."

You didn't think. You just fell into him.

He swayed with you under the soft crackle of vinyl, your feet slipping against his boots, your laughter dying against the fabric of his shirt.

"I'm getting you soaked," he said into your hair.

"Can confirm," he mumbled.

He choked on a laugh. "It wasn't a question- god, you're a menace."

"Your menace," you whispered.

He froze. Pulled back. Looked at you. And then he kissed you. Slow, deep, reverent.

It didn't feel like the one you shared on the porch. This one felt like a promise.

______________________________________________________________

Later, after changing into dry clothes and curling up beside him on the couch, you whispered the question that had been living under your tongue for days.

"Do I scare you?"

He blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"I mean... you never let people in. You barely let Sam in. And now you're-" you gestured between you. "Letting me in. Doesn't that terrify you?"

He exhaled. Then reached for your hand, metal fingers wrapping around yours.

"It does," he said. "But not because of you. Because I don't want to ruin it."

You stared at him. All of him. The scars, the war, the tenderness.

"You couldn't ruin this if you tried."

He looked away. "I've ruined things before."

You tilted his face toward you with your fingertips.

"Then don't run," you whispered. "When it gets hard. When I yell because you left dishes in the sink. When I forget to say goodnight. Just... stay."

His jaw flexed. "You'd want me to stay? Even when I'm a mess?"

You smiled. "Especially then."

______________________________________________________________

That night, you fell asleep with your head on his chest, listening to the storm fade into silence and his heartbeat slow to something steady. Something safe.

"Stupid Cupid," you whispered one last time into the dark.

And Bucky- half asleep, fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm- mumbled back, "Yeah... but I'm glad he chose to pick on you."

[alchemistc]

Part One

They don't tell anyone. Not about the marriage certificate, at least. Buck comes back from his conference with a new-old boyfriend and money exchanges hands despite protest from the losers that Bobby had inside knowledge.

(He did not.)

They put the rings away. They talk a bunch of shit out that they'd only skimmed the surface of on the patio of that dingy bar.

Buck buys him that beer.

Finally.

Things are - things aren't easy. Buck skips ahead in his own mind and desperately backpedals before Tommy notices (he hopes). Tommy continues to be tight lipped about things, goes with the flow more often than he should and absolutely hates being called out about it.

Eddie is slow to readjust to having Tommy back in their lives.

With Chris back, he swears up and down he believes Buck that they're both serious about this, but he invites Tommy over less, doesn't involve him in Chris's life as often. Buck tries desperately not to let Eddie's hesitancy inform any of the feelings bubbling in his chest, any of the half-formed futures in his head.

Bobby calls Tommy and they go out for coffee and Tommy spends a week pretending to be so fucking fine about whatever they talked about that Buck starts baking again.

Tommy's abs get a little less defined.

Buck takes him to a gay bar, because they never did that before, never explored anything that wasn't just the two of them, never talked about the community or the history or the impact of being queer. The first time someone approaches their spot at the corner of the bar, Tommy seems to be trying incredibly hard not to read into any of the reactions Buck is having, and failing miserably.

But the thing is. The thing is Buck did this on his own. Petty, unhappy, Tommy's words swirling in his head, he's tried a few dozen times to find another person remotely as appealing as the one at his side, and they'd all fallen short.

When the guy asks Buck if he wants to dance Buck blurts out words before he can think about it that he's absolutely certain are gonna send Tommy spiraling. "Appreciate the offer, but I'm here with my husband. We're celebrating."

The guy blinks. He's young. Younger than Buck, slim and attractive, dark brown eyes and light brown skin that glows golden even in the crappy bar lighting. His gaze darts almost eagerly between them, like he's seeing something he hadn't expected. Something hopeful blooms in his gaze, and Buck - oh.

Buck gets it.

That's a lot of weight to carry just for existing in the world and trying to snatch some happiness from it.

Buck smooths a hand over Tommy's knee and smiles at him, something soft and settled that has been harder to find this time around but still curls up against his spine like it belongs there.

The kid buys them a round and leaves.

"What are we celebrating?" Tommy asks, and Buck pretends not to notice the way his thumb is rubbing over the bare patch of skin where Buck had slid a ring, a few months ago. He's not freaking.

"Whatever we want," Buck says with a shrug, and doesn't mention that neither one of them have brought up the marriage certificate tucked away in Tommy's safe since they got back from Vegas.

---

"The Abby thing is still weird," Buck says, breath heaving as Tommy rearranges Buck's legs and tucks himself into Buck's side. They'd spent an evening talking candidly about their exes because Buck can't understand how they went six months without realizing.

Tommy's hands shift through the hair Buck stopped shaving the first time Tommy admitted he preferred it to the baby smooth skin Buck had tried desperately to maintain for the first four months. It's just now feeling normal, after so many years of keeping it smooth.

"I think she'd freak more than you did."

"I managed to implode a six month relationship with my freak, Tommy."

Tommy chuffs a laugh. Slides his calf up and down Buck's lower leg, and despite the fact that Buck has a few more notches in his belt that'd had that same scritch of hair against his, Buck relishes the feel just because it's Tommy.

"You had help." He pauses, though, tips his chin and tucks it against the give of Buck's shoulder. "I'm not implying her reaction was particularly homophobic, but - I think that was the worst part, for her. The fact that I hadn't just lied about how I felt. It was - she assumed I couldn't feel it."

Buck can't help the brow raise. "Tommy, you're a Kinsey six."

"I still loved her."

He's been working his way through romantic vs sexual vs platonic and learning a whole hell of a lot in the process. He gets Tommy's point. He's thrilled that Tommy is still in a sharing mood. It's just -

Tommy shifts, noses into Buck's underarm. Breathes deep, and Buck has to fight the urge to shove him away.

"If I'm totally off base here tell me, but I think you loved her like I love Eddie."

Tommy narrows his eyes. Contemplates. "Tell me again how jealous of his hair you were when you met," he decides on, and shrieks when Buck digs a finger into his ribs in retaliation.

---

They fight, and it's thrilling.

They never did that before. Minced their words and apologized and let it all drop away but never actually let it go, and when Tommy gets on a roll he's bitchy as hell. It drives Buck insane. He wants to wring his fucking neck. He wants to take him to the mat and actually learn enough about Muay Thai to stand a chance lasting two minutes. He wants to throw him against a wall and jack him off until he sees stars.

"He wouldn't do the same for me, Evan, so why should I bother?!"

Tommy's dad is dying. According to Tommy, it's days or weeks, not months or years, and Tommy had said it so emotionless that Buck had jokingly tried to check him for panels and plugs and wiring. Tommy hadn't appreciated the robot joke.

"Screw your dad, Tommy! Do it for yourself."

"I'm not like you, Evan! That bridge burned a decade ago. I don't need - ." He pinches the bridge of his nose. Grimaces and sucks in a breath. Usually that means he's yanking back words he knows he'll regret. Rearranging them in his mind until they're less likely to sting. "I don't want a death bed reconciliation any more than I want to be proven right about him."

Buck takes two weeks off to help Tommy plan the funeral.

Tommy tosses the contents of the urn into the ocean two weeks later, and when Buck asks about it, Tommy gives him a shifty look, like he thinks the answer might send Buck running. "He hated the ocean."

It's the last time they talk about his dad, for a while.

[rocknpebbles]

halfassed dumb phone doodles context they’re being crushed by the house mondo was going to built for them so this is all metaphorically their future collapsing before their feet

is it gay if your bro is trying to shoulder the burden thats been killing you

thoughts uhhh I was going for like how they metaphorically got crushed under uhhhh look the thing that's crumbling down is the house mondo was going to built for them, his promise, his carpenting dream, and mondo thinks he's the only one suffering from that loss, but kiyotaka, despite everything, is trying to keep his dream alive, HOPE, hes going to escape, hes going to become a carpenter, and hes not gonna let him implode on himself, also taka getting whacked in the head is ref to his death in trial 3, with how mondos actions, him crumbling unaware that takas trying to protect him until its too late, indirectly led to taka getting killed (also my friend @mintypsii the goat got it down to a T->) taka not letting him or his dream die but also the thought of taka is a big part of what keeps mondo moving forward and he has something he wants to work towards but his past won't let him be also the weight of the house crushing mondo and immobilizing him with no way to get out and then taka insisting he shoulder some of mondos weight only to be crushed by it too and now mondo has to live with another death he caused because he was wasn't good enough at pushing everyone away

I hate ishimondo

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Okay, so vampire Eddie is a pretty standard trope at this point, but may I offer...Twilight vampire Eddie who is absolutely pissed off about his sparkly existence?

Eddie actually isn't that old, he was turned in the 80s when he was around 20. He lives with his small and not only vampire family. There's patriarch Wayne, his partner Scott who always becomes a teacher no matter where they move, Claudia Henderson and her son that have been with them ever since Scott noticed Dustin being unusually quiet in his class and soon after, Wayne kicked out his abusive father.

The problem with living with a smart man who loves educating people and a man who never received the education he deserved is - they take school really, really seriously. Whenever they move, Eddie usually has to re-join high school, it's all "just so that you have some socialization! Also we need to be able to blend in, so look around and see what's normal with young people! Also I'm pretty sure some of the stuff we know is now obsolete or disproven, so make sure to tell us!". And Eddie loves Wayne and Scott, he really does, but he had trouble blending in even when he was alive, so now? Impossible. As for gathering information, Eddie has been trying for decades to explain to Wayne that even if becoming a vampire healed the wounds from the lynching mob, it didn't do shit for his ADHD, so there. Wayne finds Eddie banging his head into a desk one day and chanting "WHAT-THE-FUCK-IS-TIK-TOK?!"

So yes, Eddie hates being a forever highschooler, but it also means he can run DnD clubs everywhere he joins and he's not even lynched for it like in the 80s, so hey, progress! He gets mostly content with his existence, except that he's fucking sparkly and can't turn into a bat, so what's the point?!

But then a huge group of people moves from the close town of Hawkins, they had a really fucked up earthquake - Wayne told him all about it, he often volunteered in rescue and high risk works, and he's never seen anything like it - and their little town becomes way more crowded. There are high school freshmen just begging to be introduced to his club, Hellfire, although one of them is scary observant and Eddie is really sure that Jane knows he's a vampire.

And then there's Steve Harrington. A young man with the prettiest hair ever who joined Eddie's class, apparently he needs to repeat the last year too because if your school burns down, you can't take final exams. He's stupidly pretty, snarky, bitchy, and even though he could be partying day and night and spending the rest of his time on dates, he prefers to hang around with the freshmen. Lucas tells him one day that Steve got badly hurt when he was digging through the collapsed middle school, finding and rescuing their whole group, and well...Eddie respects that. Dustin absolutely loves Steve and maybe Eddie feels a bit jealous, but he has to admit - the guy is cool.

The problem with Steve Harrington is this - he's seen so much shit that nothing really fazes him. Eddie loves shocking people. Steve is unshockable. It becomes their little game, they get close, Eddie realizes he has an embarrassing crush, all that jazz. He tries dropping hints, he slurps his bloody lunch from a bottle that has a "THIS IS DEFINITELY TOMATO JUICE AND NOTHING ELSE". He wears a cape. He adopts a horrible Dracula accent. Nothing works. Steve always just laughs and tells him that he's weird and that's why he likes him.

Finally, Eddie has enough. They walk in the woods to get high, Eddie decides to break the ice, he scoops up Steve, does his whole dashing-through-the-woods thing, and he hopes that he can finally share his secret with Steve.

Except Steve just pats his back and says "Wow, that was cool, man! You'd be amazing at track. Great core strength too," and Eddie's head implodes.

"Okay, Steve. Don't you think there's something rotten here?" he tries.

"I mean, it's the woods. Of course there's something rotting all the time."

Eddie tries again. "You've noticed something strange, haven't you. I'm inhumanly fast and strong."

"I sure didn't expect that! You must be secretly training. I didn't know this town had a gym."

Again. "My skin is pale white and ice cold."

Steve is watching a nearby squirrel instead of looking horrified. "Yeah, not all people tan great, Robin is like that too. And I told you, man. Your circulation is shit, you need better socks and some gloves too."

"My eyes change color."

"Yeah, I know, I do envy you that you can wear those cool contact lenses. My eyes are too dry for that."

Eddie is growing desperate, he's gesturing at the trees because Steve doesn't listen. "I speak like I'm from a different time."

"80s slashers will do that to you. You basically live on those. But I gotta admit that they're pretty fun. Oh look, she's got an acorn! Clever girl!"

"Very clever. Also I never eat or drink anything."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Some people prefer one or two meals in a day instead of the whole five meal thing."

Eddie feels like howling and he isn't even a werewolf. "I. DON'T. GO. INTO. THE. SUNLIGHT."

Steve's eyes finally leave the squirrel. "Duh. We've already established you can't tan."

And Eddie's had enough. He tears off his t-shirt, marches directly into the sunlight and throws the biggest tantrum of his life. "STEVEN HARRINGTON. PAY ATTENTION. I am 20. I have been 20 for a while now. You know what I am, right? I am a vampire. So ask me the question, what do we eat? That wasn't a fucking tomato juice Steven!!!"

Steve just watches him with quiet amusement, as if he's waiting for something.

Eddie doesn't notice. His monologue is reaching its most dramatic part. "I've killed people before! I'm the world's most dangerous predator!"

Steve snorts. "I saw you trip over your own feet in the cafeteria."

"Not the point!"

"You told a waitress "you too" when she told you to enjoy your meal."

Eddie actually howls now. "THE POINT IS." He spins in the sunlight and sees the reflections of light off his skin. "I wouldn't have minded becoming a vampire, but let me tell you. Being stuck in high school forever? Sucks. Craving chips and throwing them up whenever you try them? SUCKS. And thinking you've become the legendary creature of the night when you're a glorified glitter mascot?! And you can't even fly?! DOUBLE SUCKS."

He points at his bare glittering chest. "THIS THE SKIN OF A FUCKING DISCO BALL, STEVE!"

Steve just laughs and gets up from the tree stump he was sitting on. "Thanks for sharing. I was kinda hoping you'd finally ask me out since this is the first time we've had some privacy, but this was interesting too."

Eddie's sharing mania suddenly stops. He realizes he's shirtless in the middle of the forest, and his yelling has scared off the squirrel. He promptly grabs his shirt and puts in on. "Um. You...you wanted me to ask you out? Because I totally want to do that. Yep. But I thought it would have been unfair to ask you before I told you-"

"That you're a vampire? Dude, I know."

Eddie blinks once. Then again. "Excusemewhat?"

Steve smiles at him and touches his hand. "Look. After what happened in Hawkins, I know the smell of blood. I knew it wasn't tomato juice. Also I've accompanied the kids to enough monster flicks to know."

"Oh." Eddie licks his lips and doesn't really know what to say. "Um. What...does that mean for us?"

Laughing, Steve grabs his other hand too. "Definitely two things. One - you can and should kiss me. Two - you can stop wearing that cape. I got your point."

"Oh okay. Cool. Will do. Both."

And since Eddie Munson is a vampire of his word, he does.

(Wayne is absolutely delighted that Eddie is dating, he watches sports with Steve and discusses the pros and cons of Steve becoming a paramedic. Scott helps Steve with some of the subjects he's struggling with. In return, Steve works with Robin to find a makeup brand that is fully sparkleproof, giving the vampires a chance to walk in the sunlight again. And sometimes, he helps them answer the questions that have been plaguing the Munson-Clarke-Henderson household for years...such as: what is TikTok?)

(oh and also. Turns out Steve really thought Eddie was wearing creepy contact lenses. That one aspect of vampyrism he found very cool)

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | ch 15 (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: cursing, mentions of taehyung getting slapped, alcohol, a haunted house (and a clown), fear of someone possibly committing the irreparable, confessions <3, explicit content: implied penetrative sex

☆word count: 7.4k

☆a/n: finally the end of the angst :') hope you guys enjoy <3 and thank you to @moonleeai for beta-ing, you're the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

Friday, October 11th

You don’t think you’ve slept. You’ve lied in bed all night, chasing the smell of Jungkook from last night on your sheets. You hoped he’d reappear, materialize here in this room where you and him always made sense, but he stays gone, and you stay alone. 

Lonely, like the moon in the sky up above. 

The morning is grey, colourless. The sun rises like it didn’t care about you and Jungkook, like its heart perhaps never imploded on itself. But yours has, the second you had to watch Jungkook walking out of the door.

He’d closed the door softly behind him, and you’d turned towards Taehyung. You’d seethed, “I fucking hate you”, through your teeth, and Taehyung had offered you a sad, apologetic stare.

“You’ll understand that this is the best for you,” he’d said, and you’d walked up to him and slapped him, hard enough for your hand to sting.

He’d taken it, barely even flinching, and as his cheek had reddened, you’d said, “You should have fucking stayed in Paris.”

And then you’d fled to your room, and he’d let you do it.

It was the first time you’ve ever slapped him - or anyone, for that matter - and you really hope it’ll be the last. Perhaps because it came from such ugly feelings, from heartbreak and betrayal and everything in between, and it raged through you only to leave a pathetic shrivelled shape behind.

You’d meant it last night - you miss Jungkook. And you miss him more than ever now, as you’re faced with the irreversibility of your falling out.

Ariane came back home after you’ve gone to bed last night. You heard her walking in, heard her speaking to Taehyung in the living room before the sounds faded as they moved to their room. And as you lied there, you’d wondered, why did Taehyung even come back home so early?

Why couldn’t he stay at the movie theatre long enough for you and Jungkook to fix your relationship? Long enough to have that much needed conversation, long enough so you’d never said that last night was a lapse of judgment?

You regretted the words the moment they were out. You don’t think you truly meant them - yesterday night was heaven on Earth, a step out of time to a past you were trying to move on from.

This morning, you know you’ll never be able to move on from Jungkook. Not when your feelings for him were strong enough to make you hate the one person who always cared for you, who always was there for you growing up.

Because with the grey light of dawn you realize that you do truly hate Taehyung. You don’t think you’ll be able to see him again without blowing up in his face, so you remain hidden in your room as he and Ariane get up. He doesn’t text you if you want breakfast, doesn’t say anything at all.

You think it’s a relief - you don’t have it in you to fight anymore.

Jungkook hasn’t texted you either. You’ve debated sending him a message for most of the night, but you haven’t figured out what. You reckon he might need space after last night, after the roller coaster of emotions that everything was, and so you think it might be okay if you haven’t texted him yet.

You rub the tiredness out of your eyes, sighing deeply as the sounds in the apartment fade when Taehyung and Ariane leave for their morning classes. You get out of bed then, putting on clothes before you head to the kitchen.

Taehyung left you a plate of eggs and bacon on the table, with a scribbled note next to it. I’m sorry is all that’s written, and you wonder if Ariane forced him to write it.

It’s unlike Taehyung to ever apologize for anything after all. You crumple the piece of paper, throw it out in the recycling bin, and then eat the food even though it’s gone cold since Taehyung left it there. It’s still food, and though your appetite doesn’t show up, you still manage to eat half of it.

You text Nabi that you won’t make it to class before heading back to your room, the heaviness of everything that happened in the last twelve hours catching up to you. You feel bone-deep exhausted, and you hide underneath the covers of your bed, tears pricking at your eyes.

It’s nothing new - you’ve been crying on and off since Jungkook left last night, and that, most of all, must have been the reason why sleep evaded you all night long.

You grab your phone, quickly moving to your text message app. You find Jungkook’s conversation, rereading his text from September.

[09/08/24] JK: hey.. do you want to talk?

You’d ignored it then, but today, you find yourself in his position. Find yourself writing a message similar to the one he’d sent, and you reread it a thousand times before you find the courage to press send.

[9:37 am] You: i’m sorry about what i said last night. can we talk?

Anxiety flushes through you as the message delivers. It’s adrenaline in your blood, and you remain on the conversation for five minutes, hoping Jungkook might reply right away.

He doesn’t. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t reply all morning, and you busy yourself by going back to the dorms, not wanting to stay at the apartment knowing that Taehyung is going to come back eventually. 

You find the dorm room to be empty, which you reckon is a relief. You don’t think you’d have the strength to see anyone right now, not when the exhaustion is almost enough to make you crumple on yourself.

You end up taking a nap for most of the afternoon, waking  up drenched in sweat from a nightmare you forget the second your eyes open.

Perhaps the presence of Nabi and Ria, sitting on Ria’s bed next to you, contributes to your forgetfulness after all.

“Morning,” Ria teases.

You frown, shutting your eyes again as you hide your face in Nabi’s pillow. “Morning,” you mumble in reply.

“Why’d you miss class this morning?” Nabi asks.

You let out a noncommittal sound.

The mattress dips next to you as someone sits there. “What’s wrong?” Ria asks.

The tears are spilling over a second later, and you tell them everything. You tell them how your conversation with Ria yesterday inspired you to do the same thing with Jungkook, but that you never got the chance to tell him how you feel. You tell them about Taehyung, about Jungkook leaving without a single look back. You tell them about the text that sits unanswered on your phone, and you tell them you’re tired, oh so tired.

Ria runs a soothing hand on your back through it all, while Nabi says she’ll go buy ice cream. You sit with Ria in silence for a while, before glancing at her.

“I hope things went better between you and Seokjin,” you say, voice rough from all the crying you’ve done.

She offers you an apologetic smile. “It did. But we don’t have to speak about it right now.”

You take a deep breath, wiping your cheeks dry even though you haven’t shed a tear in a few minutes. “No,” you say after. “Tell me everything. I just need to stop thinking about Jungkook for a while.”

There’s a knock on the door, startling the two of you. Ria throws you a quizzical look and then gets up to open the door. 

Yoongi’s on the other side, a six-pack of beer in hands. “Nabi said to meet you guys here,” he says to Ria, then looks behind her to see you sitting on the bed. You must look like hell, because he lets out, “Shit.” 

It makes you laugh, and then you pat the bed next to you. “No clue if beer mixes well with ice cream, but come here.”

Yoongi grins, and then he walks in, kicking off his shoes. Turns out beer does not mix well with ice cream, as you find out half an hour later when Nabi’s returned with a one-liter tub of vanilla ice cream with fudge ripples in it.  The two tastes clash in your mouth, but you shrug it off.

It’s Friday evening, and though Jungkook still hasn’t replied, you want to have fun with your friends. And you really try to - Ria drags you all to a board game bar near campus, and you play as you drink and eat your fill.

You’re walking home, arms hooked with the girls while Yoongi leads the way, when your phone buzzes in your pocket. You can’t see who’s texted you, but your heart picks up its pace, like it knows.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say to no one in particular.

Yoongi looks over his shoulder. “You suck at board games.”

He bursts out laughing as you let out an offended sound, and Ria and Nabi pull you back as you try to jump on Yoongi. 

“You’re a dick!”

He just laughs harder, until everyone joins in. 

Until joy pierces the clouds in your mind, and weight seems to be lifted from your shoulders. You feel lighter - who needs a man when you have your friends?

“For real though,” you say once the laughter subsides. “I don’t know what I’d do without you guys.”

Nabi rests her head on your shoulder. “Good thing that you don’t have to live without us.”

“You’re such a sentimental drunk,” Ria teases, yet she pecks your cheek all the same. “Love you, bitch.”

“Love you too.”

Later, when you’re about to hop in the shower at the dorms, you finally look at your phone. You’d all but forgotten the earlier buzzing, but the message that waits for you is a bomb awaiting explosion, and you think it explodes right in your chest.

[11:26 pm] JK: i honestly don’t think we should talk rn. sorry

You swallow the rumbles of your beating organ, but they cut on the way down until you’re bleeding out standing there, naked save for the flip flops on your feet.

The clouds come back to your head, thickening until all light seems gone.

[11:58 pm] You: okay… i really am sorry

Jungkook never replies to that, and you cry yourself to sleep that night.

Sunday, October 13th 

Each year like clockwork a fair comes into town around Halloween. It’s a fair of light and music, games and plush toys to be won, with a haunted house and a corn maze. It’s not exactly in town - it’s a fifteen-minute drive from the outskirts of town, but Namjoon has a car, and so does Seokjin.

You technically do too, but you left it to Taehyung when you moved to the dorms. 

You get there with Nabi and Namjoon, Yoongi riding in the backseat with you. Ria and Seokjin are going to get there later, which you think is a good thing.

They have months of catching up to do, and you can’t blame them for wanting to be alone. Especially not when you see just how much Ria has been glowing the last few days.

You have to park the car in a field, and you’re glad you chose to wear your frat party shoes - the field is muddy from yesterday night’s rain. Nabi complains about it, and Namjoon immediately offers her a piggyback ride to cross a large puddle of mud.

You turn to Yoongi.

“Can I piggyback you too?” you ask, lips jutting out in a small pout.

He snorts. “No.”

You roll your eyes, though you chuckle as he walks around the puddle as best as he can. It’s useless - there’s mud everywhere, and your shoes are entirely dirty by the time you make it to the fair grounds. You head to the ticket booth, though you have to wait in line for a while before you manage to finally get in.

“I want a plushie,” you say the second you see the first game a little while later.

It’s a game where you have to throw rings on the necks of glass bottles. Your friends follow you to it, and you’re quick to make a competition of who’s going to succeed the most. To your surprise, it ends up being Nabi, and she wins a small dragon plushie that she gives to you immediately.

You cradle it to your chest as you make your way to the next game, though your heart drops to your ass when your gaze connects with Taehyung’s as he stands next to the stand.

“Nope,” you let out, turning around to head in the other direction.

“What?” Yoongi asks, but he soon falls into step with you. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

“Just saw my asshole of a brother, and I have no interest in talking to him tonight,” you explain as your heart races in your chest from newfound adrenaline. “Or ever, to be honest.”

Yoongi winces. “Can’t blame you.” He looks behind you, nudging you with an elbow. “We’re clear though. He didn’t follow.”

You nod, stopping to glance behind yourself too. Nabi and Namjoon are nowhere to be seen, but you think it’s okay - at least you’ve got Yoongi. And Yoongi is a fun partner, though he beats you in most of the games you end up playing with him. He makes you laugh, and you think that’s what’s most important right now.

To have fun with your friends, lest your heart runs back to a doe-eyed boy who’s decided to leave you in the past.

“Want to do the haunted house?” you suggest to Yoongi.

He seems unconvinced, yet he still says, “Sure.”

Seokjin and Ria find you in line for the haunted house, joining you in the middle while apologizing to the people behind you, though they barely even pay attention to you. You hold a smile in at the sight of their entwined hands, and you nudge Yoongi to point towards it.

He rolls his eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The smile freezes on his face a second later, and you glance in the direction he’s looking.

It’s the guy from the reception at the gym. He recognizes you, and you wave hello as Yoongi turns beet red next to you.

“Want to go talk to him?” you say, wiggling your brows.

“You say a single other word, and I’m going to murder you,” Yoongi says through gritted teeth.

“Damn,” Ria lets out. “Someone’s angry.”

Yoongi scoffs, though his cheeks remain fully flushed up until you make it to the front of the line. It fades when you walk into the haunted house, though you think it might be because a clown jumps in his face the second you walk in.

Yoongi raises his fists in a defensive stance, and you burst out laughing as the clown moves to Ria, who shrieks so loud you wouldn’t be surprised if she ripped your eardrums.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to punch them,” you tease Yoongi.

He glares at you in the dim light. “Maybe I should punch you.”

“Try me bitch.”

At that he laughs, and then tension finally goes out of his shoulders. You spend the rest of the haunted house startling whenever someone jumps in front of you, letting out small shrieks that are entirely shadowed by Ria’s screams. Seokjin doesn’t fare any better, and you and Yoongi make fun of them, so much so you find yourself wiping happy tears from your eyes when you finally walk outside again.

“Never doing one of these again,” Seokjin deadpans, which only makes you and Yoongi laugh again.

Ria punches his shoulder. “You were supposed to protect me.”

“I was scared too!” Seokjin lets out, massaging the spot she hit. “I don’t ever do haunted houses!”

The two of them start bickering, though the teasing twinkle in their eyes tells you that it’s all in good fun. And it’s beautiful to see, though you can tell Seokjin is not all the way in yet.

You can’t blame him - Ria did lead him on for a while. But you can only hope that they’ll make it despite everything. When he throws an arm around her shoulder to pull her in, kissing the top of her head, you reckon they will.

If anyone makes it through the college experience without breaking up, it’ll be them, and Nabi and Namjoon. At least you hope so.

You meet up with Nabi and Namjoon when you go to the area where multiple food stands have been erected. You and Yoongi get corn dogs, only because you haven’t eaten them in forever and you feel like indulging tonight.

Like forgetting that, three days ago, you broke your heart and Jungkook’s heart with words you didn’t mean, all because your brother took you by surprise while you were with Jungkook.

Speaking of Taehyung, you notice him on the other side of the food court-like area, surrounded by his group of friends. He sees you, waving halfheartedly at you like he expects you might have forgiven him already.

You haven’t. As a matter of fact, the sight of him out and about enjoying himself after he caused Thursday’s heartbreak makes you hate him even more, and you turn away from him to focus on your friends’ conversation. But you can’t join in - your thoughts have run back to Thursday, to the feeling of Jungkook’s gentle hands all over you as you’d had sex, and then as you’d taken a shower together.

Your thoughts run back to your love confessions, that you both didn’t register because you were too angry, too caught up in the moment. But you know he said he fell in love with you, just like you did with him.

And that, most of all, is the reason why you hate Taehyung. Because no amount of loving Jeon Jungkook could save the relationship when your brother was so keen on destroying it. 

You take a deep breath as heaviness settles on you, and Nabi sidles closer to you, nudging you gently.

“Don’t think about it right now,” she whispers for just you to hear. 

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “It’s hard.”

“I know,” she gently says. “I know it’s hard, and I know you probably wish you weren’t here right now. But this is a good distraction, no? You loved it last year.”

You did. You’d ended up coming here four times before the fair closed shop for the year, and each time you had had the time of your life, messing around with your friends with not a single care for the world around you.

Needless to say, you’ve lost that unbothered attitude now, the frivolity of it completely forgotten.

You sigh, meeting Nabi’s gaze for a few seconds. “I’m trying. It doesn’t help that Taehyung is here, though.”

“You want me to go kick his ass?” Nabi asks. You chuckle, and a smile tickles at the corner of your lips. Nabi grins at the sight of it. “You’re going to be okay,” she promises. “We’ll make sure of it.”

You can only hope that she’s right.

After eating, you all head to the maze. You team up with the girls, racing the boys to the end. Evidently you get lost, and you manage to laugh around with your friends even through the heaviness on your shoulders. You’re lost somewhere in the middle of the maze when your phone rings in your purse with three incoming text messages.

You reckon you know who texted you. Considering that all of your friends are here with you tonight, there’s only one person you think could have texted you.

So you stop walking, Ria and Nabi stopping a step ahead of you, and you pull your phone out of your purse, heart dropping to your ass.

[7:27 pm] JK: hey so i’ve been thinking and there’s some stuff i need to get off my chest [7:27 pm] JK: sorry for the long message [7:28 pm] JK: I want to apologize for everything. I’m sorry, so sorry that I couldn’t make it work. I’m sorry Paris happened, I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you right away. I wish I’d been, maybe we’d be together now. But I had to fuck it up, multiple times honestly and I think it’s proof that I definitely am not ready to be in a relationship. I wanted to try tho, I really did. I think you and I could have been something great. And lately I’ve been wondering if, maybe we made it in another universe. Like… I can’t accept that there’s no universes out there where we make it, you know? Because I really love you. I’ve loved you since the day I met you and you ran into me. I fell for you the second I saw you, and then I found out you were Tae’s sister, and the rest is history. But I wanted you to know it, to know that I love you and that I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I fucked it up. I’d take everything back if I could, I’d save you the heartbreak, but life doesn’t work that way. so yeah… i’m really sorry peach… I hope we can make it in the next life

You can’t breathe. You can’t breathe for a whole minute as you reread again and again, and Ria and Nabi stand next to you, asking what’s wrong. You can’t say anything - you think your heart has stopped beating altogether.

You hand your phone to Ria, and she and Nabi read the messages while tears prick at your eyes, adrenaline flushing through you.

“Holy fuck,” Ria curses under her breath, and she meets your gaze. “Y/n, do you know where he is?”

You don’t. You have no clue where he’s gone to hide after he left Thursday, and you think you might be sick. “I don’t know,” you answer. “I don’t know, I don’t know.”

Tears fall from your eyes, and you grab your phone, immediately pressing on the call button. It goes to voicemail right away, and you choke on a sob as Nabi grabs your arm, pulling you behind her.

You were almost at the end of the maze, luckily, and the second you’re out you take off, your friends yelling your name behind you. Apparently, the boys made it out first, because there’s a chorus of ‘What is going on?’ as you run back towards the last place where you saw Taehyung.

Your brother is not there, and though you’re out of breath, you sprint down another alley, where a bunch of artists sell paintings and bracelets and everything in between. You try calling Jungkook again, but it once again goes to voicemail.

You’re about to throw up. You’ll fucking throw up your corn dog, you’ll fucking lose him, irreparably. The fear takes hold of you, sweeps through you until you’re shaking, tears falling freely like they have a mind of their own. You can barely think around the loud beats of your heart, around the sound of the blood gushing into your ears. 

You can’t think around the thought that Jungkook is about to hurt himself.

“Y/n!” Namjoon says behind you, and you spin around to see he’s the only one who managed to follow you. Your other friends are just now turning into the alley, and they rush towards you.

“Where’s my brother?” you ask, and you choke on another sob.

Taehyung is likely the only person here who might know where Jungkook is.

Namjoon looks over his shoulder as Ria skids to a halt next to you. “I don’t know,” he answers, and you almost want to punch him.

How is he so intelligent and doesn’t fucking know that?

“Have you guys seen Taehyung?” you ask your other friends as they all stop next to you. “I need to find him.”

They all nod, and you disperse throughout the fair, searching for your brother.

“Why don’t you call him?” Yoongi asks, and you startle - you didn’t notice he’d followed you.

And you find yourself stupid for not thinking about it before. Instead of trying to call Jungkook again - you’ve been trying constantly since you received his messages - you go to Taehyung’s contact, calling him.

He picks up on the third ring. “Finally talking to me?” he drawls.

“Where are you?” you ask.

He must hear the panic in your voice, because he answers, “In line for the haunted house. Is something wrong?”

You hang up, not replying, instead sprinting towards the haunted house. You indeed find Taehyung next to it, though he’s not in line anymore, like he knew you’d come see him.

“Where’s Jungkook?” you ask, the panic in your voice so stark you see the colours fading from his features.

“Why?”

“Where the fuck is Jungkook?” you repeat, and tears once again roll on your cheeks.

Ariane steps closer to you, resting a hand on your arm. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You break down. You fully break down, hiding your face in your hands. Yoongi explains the situation while Ariane pulls you into a hug, and you cry on her shoulder, clutching the fabric of her sweater - Taehyung’s sweater - as if that'll stop you from breaking.

“He’s at home,” Taehyung says, pulling you from Ariane’s arms. “He’s at home, Y/n. Let’s go.”

You nod, and you both take off, leaving Ariane and Yoongi behind. They don’t try to follow, clearly sensing that this is something you and Taehyung need to do alone. 

You’re frantic on the ride home, one leg bouncing up and down as Taehyung drives, and you urge him to go faster.

“It won’t do us any good if we get in an accident before getting home,” Taehyung answers, but you notice he does accelerate.

“Should we call the police?” you ask when you stop at a red light.

It only then occurs to you that you might walk in to find Jungkook hurt.

“We’re almost there,” Taehyung says gently. 

You are. You’d likely get there before the police would.

You’re crying again, the panic and terror swimming through your blood so loud you can’t think anymore.

You don’t know what you’ll do if Jungkook hurt himself. If you get home to find him…

You don’t dare finish the thought.

It feels like an eternity before Taehyung finally parks the car near the apartment, and you’re flying out of it before it’s gone to a full stop. Taehyung doesn’t comment, and you’re sprinting faster than ever, climbing up the stairs to your apartment in a record time. You try the door, but it’s locked, and you curse as you search through your purse, but you don’t have the keys.

You don’t have the keys.

“I got you,” Taehyung says as he reaches the top of the stairs, keys already in hand.

He unlocks the door in no time, and the second it’s open you crash in, skidding to a halt as you scan the apartment with your gaze. The door to the bathroom is open, revealing that it’s empty. So is the kitchen, but light filters from underneath Jungkook’s bedroom door.

You run to the door, push it open as your heart beats so fast you’ll likely go into cardiac arrest.

Jungkook is sitting in front of his gaming PC, and he turns his head towards you, gaze going wide at the sight of your distressed state.

“You came?” he lets out.

You just stand there, watching him. Taking in the sight of him, alive and unharmed, playing computer games like he always does. It’s enough to make you break down again, and you fold on yourself, tears streaming down your face. 

“I uh…” Taehyung trails off from behind you. “I’ll let you guys talk.”

Soft footsteps move towards you, and gentle hands pull you up and inside the room. You don’t see anything through the blinding waterfall in your eyes, and all you can do is sob harder when you’re pulled into someone’s arms.

Jungkook’s arms. They wrap around you, strong and steady, holding you close to him. Your fists clench on the fabric of his oversized white t-shirt, and you cry as you rest your forehead on his chest.

He holds you as all the anxiety rushes out of you in the form of endless tears, and you just cry and cry, the relief that he’s safe and sound so intense you feel whiplash. 

Eventually, Jungkook makes you sit down on his bed, and he gently takes off your shoes. He then lies next to you, pulling you down, and you rest your head on his chest, the flow of tears finally slowing down.

It comes to a full stop when Jungkook kisses the top of your head, his arms around you momentarily tightening.

“You’re an idiot,” you say, voice raucous from all the crying.

“I assume this is about the message I sent you?”

You frown, lifting your head to meet his gaze. His eyes are red-rimmed, and you only then realize that he’s been crying with you all along. “Gosh, Kook,” you let out, fresh tears welling up in your eyes, but you manage to blink them away. “I thought you were going to hurt yourself.”

“Oh.” He worries at his piercings for a few seconds, then adds, “I wasn’t.”

“You sounded like you were.”

His eyebrows almost touch over his eyes. “Oh?”

“‘I hope we can make it in the next life’” you narrate. “Doesn’t that sound like what someone would say before…” you trail off, unable to say the words, the fear still impacting you despite the fact that you’re realizing he was never in any danger.

He winces. “Now that you say it like that, I guess it does sound bad.” He scrunches up his nose. “Sorry?”

“Fuck,” you curse. “Jungkook.”

“I really am sorry, I didn’t want to worry you,” he insists. He pulls you down, forcing you to rest your head back on his chest. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel. And I knew I’d say it wrong if we were talking face to face, so I just put everything down in that message.” He chuckles, though you hear him gulp. “I wrote it all in my notes app before sending it to you.” He pauses, and his lips ghost the top of your head. “My therapist said I should write down how I feel, and reading it after, I realized I wanted you to know too.”

Your hand is resting on his abdomen, and you shift it until it’s wrapped around him, pulling his body closer.

“I love you too, Jungkook,” you whisper. “Maybe not for as long as you… but I love you too.”

“I know,” he murmurs in the same tone. “I know, peach.”

You blink away the new onslaught of tears that threatens to spill on your cheeks, and coincidentally on his shirt. “We do need to talk, though.”

“I know.”

You take a deep breath, trying to find courage. As if speaking to Jungkook is scary, dangerous.

But then again, this is just Jungkook. This is the man who took care of you when you were upset on Valentine’s Day, who took care of you at every party you attended last semester.

This is the man who was ready to lose his friendship with his best friend if that meant having you. And you realize then that there’s nothing to be scared about. It’s just you and Jungkook.

It was always going to be you and Jungkook, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry too,” you admit. “For being so afraid of Taehyung’s reaction. And I wasn’t wrong to be.” You lift your head to eye the purple-turning-to-yellow mark on his cheek. It’s streaked with a linear scab, where the punch cut his skin. “I can’t believe he punched you.”

“I was expecting it.”

You look a little higher, meeting his gaze. “Why didn’t you try to stop him?”

His Adam’s apple bobs and he takes a deep breath. “I thought I deserved it.”

“Jungkook…”

“I did,” he affirms. “Did you know he told me not to touch you, ever, before I even met you?”

You frown. “That sounds like Taehyung.”

“Yeah…” Jungkook takes another deep breath, and you move your hand to hold his shoulder, thumb ghosting on the side of his neck. “And yet I did.”

“I’m happy that you did,” you whisper. “All the time we spent together last semester… I loved it, you know? I really fell for you.”

“I’m lucky you did,” he replies, and he pecks the top of your head. “But then again I treated you like shit. I should have pushed Gabrielle away before she even kissed me. But I just thought I was helping her.”

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I stopped being upset with you about it the second she told me everything.” You hold him a little tighter for a few seconds. “She was rooting for us, you know?”

Jungkook nods. “I know. She told me.” He sighs, and his lips brush the top of your head again, as if he’s trying to anchor you here.

To anchor himself here, with you, just lying in his bed, slowly forgetting the world.

“I’m sorry about Lisa,” he adds after a few beats of silence. “I really didn’t expect you to ever show up like that.”

“I should have texted you first,” you say as your heart clenches in your chest at the memory of Lisa in his shirt, of every scene of them together you imagined during your countless sleepless nights. “You had every right to try to move on with someone, you know?”

“But you didn’t,” he points out. “I should have held out for longer.”

“Jungkook,” you say sternly, lifting your head to meet his gaze again. “You couldn’t have known that I’d come back. You had the right to move on.”

His gaze is lined with silver, big doe eyes shining softly in the dim light from his PC monitor, and from the LED lights strung all around his room. They shine a gentle yellow tonight, so unlike the red you’re used to.

“I’m still sorry about it,” he murmurs, lower lip quivering.

“Stop,” you whisper, cupping his cheek. “Stop, Kook. I can’t lie and say that it didn’t hurt, but I was never mad at you for it. Not even for a single second.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he says, and tears spill from his eyes.

You’re quick to dry them with your thumb. “It’s not a question about who deserves who or what,” you say, and you move until you can pull his face into your chest. “It’s never been about that.”

“But I don’t deserve you.” He chokes on the words, and you run a hand through his hair, massaging his scalp soothingly.

“You do,” you say. “You really do, Jungkook. You were here for me all those months. You treated me well despite Taehyung being a concern, despite the fact that I never really fully gave myself to you because of him.” You blink away the wetness in your gaze. “You deserve me because you love me,” you add, and your heart warms in your chest.

It only occurs to you then how real the feelings are. They’ve always been there, always been strong, but now they have a name, and you think it’s the most beautiful name in the universe.

You were right to chase cars around his head, after all.

“You deserve me because you love me,” you repeat, “and because I love you.”

“I do love you,” he says softly. “I really do.”

You can’t help yourself - every single second of your life has led to this moment. You pull away, and he looks up at you as you lean forward. As you softly press your lips on his, and as you swallow the soft sigh he lets out. You kiss him gently, your heart syncing with his, the cars now chasing themselves around both of your heads.

And you do forget the world, as you kiss him. It’s just you and him, like it’s always been meant to be. Just you and Jeon Jungkook, and your souls fusing into one. And maybe the three words aren’t enough, maybe ‘I love you’ can’t convey everything that you feel for Jungkook, but you reckon you have an eternity in front of you to demonstrate the feelings, in all of their glory.

And you kiss for your own little eternity, not ever falling into desire and passion territory. You ride the wave of the love between you and Jungkook - a gentle wave, like those a soft breeze summons on the surface of a lake in the summer. No, you just kiss with all of the love you share, and it burns brighter than the moon ever could, rivalling the Sun.

You wonder, do the stars see you shining in the sky outside? Do they know of the love that was born between you and Jungkook all those months ago?

The kiss ends gently, much like it started. Your eyelids flutter open to meet Jungkook’s soft gaze, and you take in the emotions swirling in the depths of his eyes, reflecting those in yours.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

He frowns slightly. “For what?”

“For telling me how you felt,” you reply. “For sending that message, even though I misinterpreted the end.”

He offers you a small smile, his lips barely curving upwards yet his eyes shining bright. “You deserved to know.”

“And you deserved to know that it’s all reciprocated,” you say. “I’m in love with you, Jeon Jungkook.”

The sparkles in his eyes explode into the most beautiful fireworks. “You’re getting cheesy on me,” he teases.

“And what about it?”

He pulls you down in another kiss, though this time it’s much shorter, more a quick peck than a deep love confession.

“I like it,” he admits. “Be as cheesy as you want.”

“I will be,” you promise, eyes twinkling with mischief.

His answering laugh is oh so healing, and you use it to cure the wounds on your heart.

To cure those on his heart, too.

“I do need to say,” you say a few minutes later, after you’ve laid your head back on his chest, “that I’m sorry about what I said to Taehyung Thursday. It was never a lapse of judgment, and I really don’t know why I said that.”

“It really hurt,” Jungkook admits, and you hold him tighter, trying to erase the past. “But at the same time, I do get why you said it. You were just trying to get Taehyung off our backs.”

“I was, but it wasn’t the right way to do it,” you say. “It was stupid, and hurtful, and I really didn’t mean it at all.”

“It’s okay.” Jungkook’s mouth brushes the top of your head, and he adds in a whisper, “It’s okay.”

You don’t think it is, but then again, there’s a lot of things you need to leave in the past if you want to be able to move forward with him.

You both made mistakes, a lot of them, but holding onto them won’t bring you anywhere positive.

“You know,” Jungkook says. “I suck at relationships.”

You lift your head to meet his gaze. “You don’t.”

“No, but I do,” he insists. “I’ve never had a real girlfriend. As you know, Gabrielle was just… a cover?”

“Yeah…” you trail off, resting your head on his chest again. “Did you guys ever…”

He chuckles. “Yeah. Once, when we were seventeen. She said she couldn’t really know if she was gay if she didn’t try having sex with a guy once.”

“How did that go?”

You hear the wince in Jungkook’s tone as he says, “Poorly. It was my first time, and hers too obviously, and it was entirely shit.”

You laugh, patting his chest. “Don’t worry, you’ve gotten a lot better.”

“Oh did I now?” Jungkook teases and he pushes you off his chest, forcing you to lie on your back so that he can climb over you.

Your laugh turns into a giggle as he hides his face in your neck, his breath tickling you, and you retaliate by tickling his sides.

He bursts out laughing, falling on the side next to you. “How dare you!”

You rest your hand on his stomach, stopping him before he can climb on top of you again. “I want to know more,” you say, falling serious.

He cocks an eyebrow, his grin slowly fading. “Know more?”

“About you,” you say. “I feel like I don’t know a lot about you, despite all the time we spent together.”

Maybe because there always were too many secrets between you and Jeon Jungkook. 

But not anymore, not ever again.

“What do you want to know?” he asks.

“Everything.”

He widens his gaze, laughing softly. “It’s going to take the whole night.”

“I don’t care,” you insist. “I want to know everything that makes you, you.”

He wets his lips, toying with his piercings. “And do I get to know more about you, too?”

You nod forcefully. “I’ll answer every question.”

There’s a silence as you just share a look, until Jungkook turns on his back, looking up at the ceiling. You just stare at his profile, wondering what question he’ll ask first.

“We should go on a date,” he says, taking you by surprise. He looks at you again, before adding, “On a real, proper date. Like in the movies. And then you could ask me all your questions.”

You snort. “You want to go on a date with me?”

“Of course,” he says. “Friday night at eight pm. Wear your best clothes.”

“You’re deadass?”

He narrows his gaze at you. “Yes? Why wouldn’t I be?”

You shrug, cheeks dusting with pink. “Does that mean that we’re…”

“That we’re?” Jungkook presses when you never finish the sentence.

“That we’re dating?”

Your heart beats out of your chest at the question - it holds the weight of the universe. Two hours ago, you would have never believed you’d get to ask Jungkook that, ever.

Yet here you are, and when his gaze fills with all the warmth of love and summer days and everything in between, you know the answer.

“Well…” he trails off. “If you want to. We can also take it slow if you prefer?”

“What about a little bit of both?”

Jungkook chuckles. “How would that work?”

“I mean…” You lie on your back, looking up at the ceiling as you search for the right words to say. “As you said, you suck at relationships, and so do I. So maybe we can learn along the way? Do things the right way this time around?”

He’s smiling when you turn your head to look at him again. “Yes,” he agrees. “One day at a time.”

The kiss that follows starts slowly, softly, gently, but it escalates quickly, led by the lingering fear that you could have lost him tonight. It burns with passion, Jungkook’s tongue pushing into your mouth, and you let out a breathy sound as he climbs back on top of you, his knee parting your legs.

You wrap them around his waist to hold him closer, your arms snaking around his neck. 

It’s all kisses and soft moans and whispered confessions until you’re naked, entwined, your bodies joined in the most intimate of ways. Jungkook muffles your moans with his lips on yours, and you pour all of your love into the kisses, in the way your hips lift to meet his.

When Jungkook climaxes, you hold him even closer - you’d be dumb to let him go. Not when it was always meant to be him. Not when your love for him is growing, flourishing inside of your heart, of your soul, to form the most beautiful garden.

A garden of you and him, of feelings shared and confessed, of yearning and longing that only led to this beauty. To this moment of you and him together - to this first moment of you and him together of the long list that will follow.

And later, before you fall asleep in his embrace, you whisper against his skin, “I love you.”

He whispers it back, and the reciprocity of the feelings shines on you through the night, like it will shine on you from this day on until you dwindle into stardust, to be carried on a wind of eternity.

Prev | Chapter 15.5 | Next

☆☆☆☆☆

I told you the angst was almost over :') which is good, bc there's only two chapters left. I hope this one managed to heal you guys a little, tho it started off sad. The last two chapters are for healing but first, what did you guys think of this one?

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

[ahotmesswithprivilege]

Ocean Eyes

paring: Bob Floyd x female!bartender!reader

wordcount: 2642 (scandalously short for me, I know)

prompt: “It’s like you never really see me. I’m standing right in front of you and you don’t see me!” requested by @gretagerwigsmuse (I am sorry this took so long. I hope it was worth the wait)

note: I couldn't write so I started cleaning up my WIP folder and I found this. I forgot that it was practically done and so I thought, let's share my Bob debut with the world. I hope you'll enjoy it.

Trigger Warning(If I forgot something or you want me to add to the list, my inbox is wide open. You are responsible for your media consumption, so proceed with caution, you know the drill): none, I think. Unless you consider canon Hangster one. Also idiots in love.

|| Masterlist ||

divider by @sweetmelodygraphics banner by @firefly-graphics

Reblogs, comments and constructive criticism are always welcome

!!!Minors do not interact; empty/ageless/minors will get blocked!!!

You love Bob Floyd. It’s pretty obvious to anyone who has eyes. At least that’s what you always hear from your best friend and yet he showed never any interest in you at all. There is a part of you that realises that this could only mean one thing but acknowledging the hard truth would hurt more than anything. So you ignore it and keep living in the blissful illusion that maybe one day Lieutenant Robert Floyd will wake up and finally see you.

That is until tonight when that hope should be shattered for good. The night at the Hard Deck when you are dealt the final blow.

“Is that Baby on Board in that booth? Flirting with a woman?”, Hangman is leaning against the bar waiting for you to get a fresh round of drinks ready. The question is directed at Rooster to his right and your gaze follows his and you see Bob sitting in a booth with an absolutely gorgeous redhead.

“Yeah. Phoenix set him up with her old college friend”, Rooster answers, giving you that kind of cautious look that he always sent your way whenever he thought you were in a fragile state and could implode any second. And as if to justify his worries you slam their beers down a little harder than intended and when your gaze meets his, all you see is pity in his pretty brown eyes.

“Rooster”, your voice is barely there, more a growl rumbling in your chest than anything else. It's a warning for your best friend to keep his fucking mouth shut and leave you be.

Not that it would help.

It's something you both love and hate about Bradley Bradshaw. He was not someone who gave up on people. No, he stayed even when shit got hard and you knew he'd be right there by your side through it all, holding your hand and keeping you close because that's just who he is.

And considering the look you get from his worse half, you know the same is true for him. The irony that fucking Jake Seresin would one day be one of your best friends was not lost on you. Especially considering how the two of you started off, but having Hangman cover your back was apparently a perk that came with being Rooster's best friend.

"Don't"

But Brad just lifts his hands in surrender and then they head over to the pool tables where the others are already waiting for them, leaving you behind the bar with the feeling that the shards of your shattered heart were just digging deeper into your flesh with every breath.

“Hey, sunshine”, your head snaps to the side and there you see him sitting at the end of the bar smiling at you the way he always did. The way that made your heart skip a beat and you hated that fucking traitor of an organ. And then your brain intercepts and reminds you of the images of last night. The way she had her hands all over him, turning him into a blushing mess as they stumbled out of the bar.

You have to shake your head or you'd lose focus and you cannot afford that. Not on a Saturday night.

It's not like you need to wait for him to order something, you know it all by heart, so you set his usual virgin drink in front of him and put some nuts in a bowl. Both containers are hitting the bartop a tad bit harder than necessary and before he could get another word in you were already gone.

Your behaviour took him off guard. His eyes are still following you when you already busied yourself with the order of another patron at the other end of the bar as if you wanted to get as much space between you and him as you physically could and he couldn't help the unsettling feeling that crept up on him.

This was so not you. There's a reason why they call you sunshine and that's not just because Rooster introduced you like that. You were always sweet and kind and won over the position of the patron’s favourite from Penny within the first week. You always had a lovely smile on your lips and a nice comment for everyone.

But the thing he had always liked most about you was how protective you were, looking out for the people around you. You were just the kind of person who truly cared and didn't just turn it into a performance.

The longer you are lingering on the other end of the bar without giving him even as much of a glace the more uneasy he becomes ultimately deciding to pick up his things and make his way over to the quiet corner by the pool tables that had been dubbed his even back during his Top Gun time. And from over there he has the perfect view of the bar without the hustle and bustle that would only distract from his actual mission. Figure out what was wrong with you.

You seemed tense and your interactions were colder than usual even with people that he knew you loved to bits.

Dave, one of the veterans who frequented the bar had made it a habit to propose to you whenever he saw you. It was a running gag between the two of you but even he couldn't bring an honest smile to your face.

That sure as hell was a first.

Maybe something happened?

Had someone hurt you?

Or did something happen with your family?

The best way to find out was to talk to Rooster.

He was your best friend after all and if someone knew what was going on, then it would be him.

So, Bob waited patiently until he took a break from the pool game before approaching him.

“Is something wrong with sunshine?”

Rooster arches his brow at the question, stops drinking mid-swig and puts his bottle back down.

“What should be wrong with her?”

Bob tilts his head while he studies the other's features.

He couldn't be serious about that question. Rooster always claimed to know you best of them all and he honest-to-goodness wanted to tell Bob he didn't see what was going on.

“She’s curt and tense. She didn’t even smile at Dave's proposal”

Rooster’s brow arched even more.

God for someone as observant as Robert fucking Floyd he was pretty goddamn blind when it came to you.

“Even if there was something it wouldn't be my story to tell”, he raises his bottle back up and takes a sip of his beer, watching Bob’s mind running  100 miles an hour while he tried to figure out how to proceed.

“If you wanna know what’s going on there is a simple solution”, he prompts him. He had sworn to keep his mouth shut about your feelings for Bob but helping him figure it out on his own was not breaking that promise.

At least not in his book.

“And that would be?”

“Fucking ask her, Baby on board”

Jake groaned over from the pool table and rolled his eyes.

He was so done with this kindergarten bullshit. Watching you and Bob was worse than his dance with Rooster pre-uranium mission and he knew they had been unbearable to watch.

His boyfriend shoots Hangman an angry look as if to remind him of their promise but he just rolls his eyes and sighs.

Hangman likes you, a lot. Some might even go so far as to say he loves you. Very much platonic but it's love nonetheless.

You were a major part of Rooster’s life and therefore you became a fixture in his and if he had to listen to you crying yourself to sleep one more goddamn night over fucking Baby on Board then he’d be the one going on a bloody rampage.

So Jake stalked over to Bob and stared him right in his blue eyes, his green gaze cutting like a knife.

“That wasn’t a suggestion Floyd”, he growled, nodding over to where you handed out drinks at the bar, doing everything within your power to not look their way.

Bob had no idea why the other ganged up on him like that but he couldn’t remember the last time Hangman had been this mad. With his gaze flittering between the two men and you at the bar he decided it was indeed probably smartest to talk to you as soon as possible.

“Can you please get a box of whiskey from storage?”, you barely hear Penny’s voice over the constant chatter of the bar and the music coming from the jukebox when she hands you the key.

You had tried to keep your brain busy all night and lucky for you, the Saturday had provided you with enough to do to grant yourself a small reprieve from the pain that had settled in what was left of your heart after last night.

You nod at Penny and weave through the crowd in front of the bar, attempting to smile at the patrons that greeted you but you knew that this was just a facade and considering the many concerned looks, they knew too.

When you finally got to unlock the door of the storage closet stepping inside and pulling the door closed behind you as you were heaving a sigh the muffled sounds of the bar were still echoing in your ear. You loved this place and the Hard Deck had always felt more like home than the house you shared with Rooster and Hangman. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. The air was stuffy and full of dust but it was the closest to a break you could get just about now.

That was until the sudden creaking of the door made your heart rate pick up.

"This is for staff only", your eyes are wandering around to find something to use as a makeshift weapon just in case one of the guys got so drunk he forgot his manners and basic human decency. You find a large vodka bottle, pick it up from the shelf as you turn around, almost dropping it when you are met with blue eyes.

"Fuck Bob, you scared me", you place your free hand over your heart, putting the Vodka bottle on a small table.

"I'm sorry, sunshine", your eyes wander over him and it's only then that you see how he's not really daring to look into your eyes and he's fidgeting with his hands.

"What are you doing back here Bob?", you are crossing your arms over your chest and take another step back from him, almost making you hit the shelves full of liquor behind you.

He had never seen you so distanced and borderline standoffish around any of the daggers. You were someone who needed to be close, someone who thrived on touch and physical forms of affection, but you were fleeing from him and he couldn't have imagined something as simple as a step back to hurt that bad.

"I... I was wondering...", he started and then you were the third person today looking at him with an arched eyebrow and he felt like a first grader who's supposed to take his SAT.

"What were you wondering?", you said, the tense edge still audible in your voice sent a shiver down his spine.

Bob had never met this cold version of you and he hated every second of it. He loved your warmth, the way you were lighting up even the darkest room. You were the embodiment of a sweet summer day, full of sunshine and blooming flowers with enough of a breeze to make it perfect but right now you rivalled the worst arctic winter.

"Why are you so cold with everyone?"

"I am not"

"Of course you are. You didn't even smile at Dave's proposal", he sees the way your eyes get wider for only a moment before you put that facade back in place. So the real you was hiding somewhere behind that mask you put on.

"Yes I did"

"No, you didn't. Not for real"

The fact he had actually noticed took you by surprise, but the dull ache in your chest reminded you that just because he happened to notice one thing today it didn't mean that anything changed.

The silence hanging between the two of you was deafening and the longer it lasted the more nervous Bob got.

You two had never had an issue with talking. You were probably the one person he always felt like he could talk to even if he didn't feel like interacting with anyone else. But now it felt like you were two ships in the night, drifting farther and farther away apart.

"Please. I just want to...", his voice sounds pleading and the way he reaches his hand out for you prompts you to take another step back. You cannot handle his touch, that much you know but in your desperate attempt to keep the tears from running down your cheeks you forget that you have a mouth too.

“It’s like you never really see me", the words are spilling from your lips before you even realise it, hands flying to your mouth to stop yourself. The tears that were pricking at your lashline before began to run down your cheek when you see the way his eyes widen mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally finds his voice again.

"There hasn't been a single day when I didn't"

You force your eyes shut to stop the tears from running, shaking your head as you hear him take step after step closer into your space and crowd you against the shelves.

"I don't think I couldn't"

"Then why does it feel like I’m standing right in front of you. and you don’t see me?”, your voice is small and quiet, almost drowned out by the muffled sounds from the bar but once they sink in, Bob's eyes are darting all over your face, trying to figure out what you truly meant.

You open your eyes, tears still glittering as you look up at him. He sees so many emotions swirl in them ranging from pain and fear to something softer. Something he never dared to dream of finding in your eyes when you looked at him. And then he caught your eyes wandering from his to his lips and back up.

It was not much more than a flicker, something easily missed if he had blinked at the wrong moment.

"I always see you, sunshine", his voice is soft as he takes another step closer and leans down, slow and cautious as if he's trying to gauge if he had gotten what you implied right, but you stayed frozen in your place, closing your eyes again until you feel his nose brushing against yours and your foreheads touching.

"And what about last night?", you feel like you are caught up in a dream, fearing the moment your alarm would go off and you'd have to get up and back to a reality where Bob dated someone else and you were damned to only stand there and watch.

"Jolene is nice but all she's ever seen is the uniform and the glasses. She never bothered to really look at me. She didn't see me", he lifts his hands and rests them on your cheeks, thumbs gently caressing your skin as his eyes search yours for any sign that you do not want this.

"Not the way you did when we first met", you feel like you are getting lost in the endless blue of his ocean eyes, warm breath fanning over your face as you lean in to kiss him.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as always

If you want to read more you can find my masterlist here

[targaryenluvs]

— photograph

pairings: luke castellan x hades!daughter!reader

summary: as much as you loved luke, you were beginning to believe he’d rather keep you a secret than love you in the open.

warnings: angst babyyy, arguments, jealousy, selfishness, insecurity, manipulation, violence, fights, makeups, makeouts, tension

a/n: based on this request - you guys i’m currently reading the books bc i’ve never and i only grew up on the movies lol i will be more accurate soon i hope! i’m not the best an angst bare with me. this can also fit photograph!! hope you liked it anon!!!

your relationship with luke was amazing.

you’d never dated anyone before, but you weren’t sure how you could ever move on from him. he was nothing short of a gentleman as well as your bestfriend. he confided in you, as you did him, you held eachother and loved eachother. the only problem was that it wasn’t open. being two of the most well-known people at the camp, luke expressed his desire to you to have something to himself, you, to himself.

and at first you didn’t mind.

you loved sneaking away with him late at night, longing stares from across the room, and stolen moments whenever available. no one found out, and he wanted to keep it that way.

of course there were moments where the two of you messed up. accidentally wearing his shirt, the longer length drawing some stares but you’d brush them off, no one exactly was going to call out the daughter of hades. where your hair didn’t exactly cover all of the marks he’d left the night before, his hands were in your hair, his clothes were in your sheets.

and the two of you were always able to keep it hidden.

until you didn’t want to anymore.

you wanted to love him in the open, show everyone just how much you loved luke castellan. you’d bring it up to him when you spent time together, the idea of letting everyone know was foreign and unnecessary in his eyes, but it was all you wanted. just to be able to show how happy you are with him and so neither of you will get asked out anymore. but his kisses on your neck and trailing hands seemed to draw you away from the thought.

you kept telling yourself you were fine with it.

but a girl can only hold on so long, you were done with it, with him. it broke your heart, even thinking of not being with him anymore but you’d rather be free and sad then unknown and happy. the two of you were sat together, stargazing in the forest, your own hide out, deep in the woods, a clearing for the two of you.

he seemed so happy, with you. the whole night he chatted away with you, holding your hand, kissing you, hugging you. you loved him so much, he was your other half, your luke. you felt as if you’d implode. your heart clenched at the idea of being away from him. you knew you couldn’t live like this, “luke?” he turned your way, still smiling, “what’s up babe?” his smile dropped at the sight of your teary eyes and trembling lips, “hey, hey what’s wrong?”

you swallowed, “i— i can’t do this anymore, i can’t be a secret. i hate having your nights and being ignored in your mornings, i hate looking at all the girls fawn over you, knowing your mine. i hate not being able to tell you how i feel during the day, not being able to walk up to you and hug or kiss you. i hate it, and i hate myself for hating it. i just want to be with you.” luke’s eyes were glistening, his hand resting on your cheek, “don’t do this, please. you agreed to this, to our relationship. please don’t ask for more, isn’t this enough? am i not enough?”

he held your hand, pressing it to his chest. you could feel his heartbeat, the rhythm you listened to most nights, lulling you to sleep. you could see the gorgeous face you adored, and listened to the heavy breathing of the man you loved. your smile ignited a flicker of hope in his heart, “no, it’s not. i don’t want to be a secret. i want to be able to tell everyone how much you mean to me, i want you to tell everyone what i mean to you. to be able to talk about our future and our life, plan out the biggest of adventures and our wildest dreams. i can’t do that with someone who’d rather love me in the dark of night than the light of day.”

and with that, luke’s heart was beating faster, a tear falling down and his relationship with you in pieces. all he could do was watch you walk away, a part of him with you. he wanted to get up and chase you, tell you how much he truly loved you, but he sat and stared.

the next few weeks were miserable for both of you. sleepless nights, missing the other, no one to stare at anymore, no one to pass love notes to, no one.

luke had the attention of the entire camp, everyone but the person he wanted.

you had the love of everyone but him.

you tried your best to hide it, the pain in your chest, the tears you’d rid your body of at night, the bracelets and necklaces you hid at the bottom of your jewellery box. trying to eradicate any memory of luke castellan from your eye and life.

whereas luke found himself seeking you out. the horrible drawing youd made of him, the beaded bracelet with your nickname for him on it, the chapstick you left behind and your favourite shirt of his. it still smelled like your own perfume. his favourite photograph of the two of you, a polaroid, you kissing his cheek, with both of your matching necklaces on display.

luke seemed fine to everyone else, of course he did. why would he be any different? whereas you were less chatty, energy drained, and happiness gone. no one seemed to ask, too scared of the reply.

three months, without him.

it still hurt, seeing him. but day after day, it tended to get easier to get up. your friends were your saviours, and strength. they could infer the reason behind your sadness, but they didn’t push you. everyday became a routine, get up, get ready, eat, get through the day and relax at night. you thought you were doing better, until you saw him. happy and uncaring.

and all of a sudden you were back where you started. you were so tired of feeling unwanted, always getting frustrated when you cried, you were crying over someone who couldn’t care less.

so when one of the hermes boys approached you with a smile and a drink offering at a secret party in the woods, you were more than willing to take it. he was nice, and funny, and into you. whilst you laughed away with him, occasionally drinking and eating, luke was across the campfire from you, grip tightening on his cup. all the voices around him were muffled, he couldn’t care about their conversations when the girl he loved was right there.

it was one thing for someone to approach you but from his own cabin? it felt as if the guy was trying to piss him off, and he couldn’t stand for that. luke was trying his hardest to hold himself back, but then the guys hand was on your waist and the cup in his hand was crushed within an inch of its life.

suddenly, luke appeared out of nowhere, his eyes burning with jealousy. unable to control his emotions, he confronted the guy. “what the hell do you think you’re doing?” luke sneered as the boy, derek, looked at him confused, “what’re you talking about luke?” luke scoffed, his patience was wearing thin, and the stupid look on derek’s face looked so punchable, so that’s what he did.

the situation escalated quickly, and before you knew it, a full-blown fight broke out between luke and the derek. as chaos erupted around you, you began to realize the depth of luke's feelings. you knew him better than anyone around, you saw the pain in his eyes, hiding behind the rage. luke wasn’t overtly violent in his daily life, let alone starting a fight, all for you.

derek was holding on for sure, a few hits in but again, no one was really a match for luke. the crowd around you had grown, chanting and cheering mixed in with laughter. “luke! luke let him go.” you shouted at him, but it wasn’t really any use, you implored his cabin mates to pull him away, and after a few seconds of contemplating they agreed. derek scrambled away, running with a few friends, whether to chiron or the cabins, as long as it wasn’t near you, luke was happy.

you stormed over to luke, clutching him by his shirt, “let’s. talk.” a plethora of ‘ooh’s’ rung out as luke shrugged off all the hands holding him back.

you’d found a quiet spot to talk, and with tears streaming down your faces, you talked. for the first time in three months, you held a conversation. it obviously wasn’t breezy, yelling and shouting, shoves from you, a slap or two. “you ignore me for three months, and then you beat the shit out of a guy just because he talked to me? what the hell is wrong with you? you were completely fine after we broke up, why did you do that?”

luke took a step closer, “you thought i was fine? i was anything but, every single night, all i wanted was you. you drive me insane, do you get that? not having you, not being able to hold you, to be with you.” his hand held your waist tightly, pulling you into him.

you were looking up at him, nose to nose, heaving chests and an unbelievable amount of tension in the air. “to kiss you.” he whispered, before kissing your neck. your hand tangled itself in his curls as his hand tightened around your waist, the other holding the back of your neck. the two of you ended up pushed against a tree, roaming hands and messy kisses.

“does this mean you’ll take me back?” luke whispered, forehead against yours, “are you willing to go public?”

he smiled, “for you? anything.”

[steviewashere]

I'd Like For You and I To Go Romancing

Rating: Teen and Up CW: None apply Tags: Post-Canon, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst With a Happy Ending, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Implied/Referenced Sex, Self-Sacrificing Eddie Munson, Eddie Munson Loves Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Loves Eddie Munson, Love Confessions, Lover Boy Steve Harrington, Sad Steve Harrington, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart For @steddieangstyaugust Day 21 Prompt: "Please." Title taken from "Good Old-Fashioned Lover Boy" by Queen.

💕——————💕 “Please.”

It’s said to him so quietly, Eddie almost doesn’t hear it. The same way he can’t really see, can’t make out the shapes in the room despite the one light through the window. Maybe it’s the panic in him, while he’s trying to fight his way through tears as he pulls his clothes back on. But the word whispered at his back makes him take pause.

A desperate little word. He wants it to mean something.

Eddie swallows. Quickly, he goes back to shimmying his jeans back on. Hits his rings on the belt buckle currently hanging loose from the loops of his pants. 

It’s not that he wants to go, but it’s that he should. He’ll give some lame excuse later. Something about Wayne needing him back home—despite it being late at night, despite the fact that everybody knows Wayne works the nightshifts. He’ll say it’s because he gets anxious sleeping in other people’s beds. That he even wets the bed sometimes, even if he stopped doing that more than a decade ago. Gets nightmares so violent and lurching, he’s afraid he’ll hurt somebody. He could say that he actually hates sleeping with another person in his bed.

Despite everything in him screaming that he needs it. Because he’s a lonely, lonely person. And always wanted somebody there, needed them so close they could almost climb inside his ribs.

But he fastens the buckle of his belt and continues on with finding his t-shirt.

“Please,” whispered again, so singular, yet so drawn out, and so heartbreaking. The word pierces through Eddie’s back, kills his heart on impact, and exits his chest in one clean pass. It makes him stop searching again. “Don’t go. You don’t have to go.”

Oh, but I do, Eddie thinks, because if I let this go on any longer than it already has, I’ll have to admit how much I love you. And if I admit it and you say nothing in response, I’ll implode right on the spot. I’m saving myself. I’m saving you.

He sniffs. Grabs a random t-shirt from the bedroom floor and begins to pull it over his heavy head of curls. It’s not his shirt, he comes to find, but isn’t surprised. It’s loose on his chest, but tight on his biceps. The shirt is lightly worn. Smells like amber, like cinnamon and vanilla. Not his cologne. Not like cigarettes or marijuana or citrus-bergamot from his Irish Spring. Eddie plucks at the fabric, pulls it farther away from the skin of his chest, where his heart—resuscitated—tries to kiss the shirt with every beat.

If he doesn’t get out of here, he’ll do something stupid like break down into tears. If he doesn’t get out of here, he won’t save face. And if he doesn’t get out of here, he can’t move on.

A pleading, “Eds, please,” hits him. “Please don’t go. Don’t do this to me, too. Please, baby, come on.” Then, the bed behind him shifts. And there’s warmth on his back. A gentle brush of lips to his neck.

Steve wasn’t as sleepy as Eddie thought. Go figure.

“I…I gotta go, Steve,” Eddie states quietly, “I checked my watch. Gotta be home for Wayne, y’know?” He remains as still as he possibly can. Because Steve can read him, he’s come to find. He’ll know that Eddie’s lying if he shifts from foot-to-foot even an inch.

“He’s not home right now,” Steve immediately points out, “it’s dark out. And it’s a weekday, he’s working.”

Eddie swallows again. “I just have to go, Steve.” He doesn’t face him, doesn’t think he could. Doesn’t move, also doesn’t think he could. Just hopes, beyond all else, that Steve will just accept that and go back to bed and forget this night ever happened. That he ever touched Eddie that way. That he ever let himself get involved with a person like Eddie—not because he’s a freak and not because he’s in a different tax bracket, not that he’s above Steve, not that he’s below Steve…because he’s just him.

He hears Steve heave a deep breath.

Then, soft and tiny, “I was going to make you breakfast,” Steve says, “but this doesn’t have to…we can forget this happened if that’s what you want to do.”

“I…Steve”—

“It’ll be hard for me to let go, but I can try.” That makes Eddie turn to Steve. To see him. His limp, sweaty hair and the fact he’s only wearing boxers. The downcast eyes and twisting, nervous hands in front of him. “You’re not the first, so I’ll be fine.”

Eddie’s stomach churns and his palms sweat and he swears that his heart is the loudest thing in this room—screeching and beating and crashing straight out of him. But he brings himself to meet Steve’s volume, to ask, “What do you want, Steve?”

“I want you to stay,” Steve immediately responds, “I want you to stay in bed with me. And…and I’ll wake up first and maybe I’ll find out that you drool in your sleep and then I’ll brush back a stray strand of your hair and I want to get up and make you breakfast and then you’ll be over the moon when I hand you a cup of coffee and it’s made the exact way you love it and then we can…we can…you can…”

He blinks. Blinks again. Harder the third time. “You can…?” Eddie prompts.

“You can find somebody worth loving out of me,” Steve timidly answers, “because I already love you.”

Unable to hold himself back anymore, he takes the few steps forward to put him face to face with Steve. And, in a moment of bravery, holds Steve’s head between his hands and kisses him. Soft and exploratory. Then, passionate and disbelieving. And another, for good measure, that’s in the shape of all the words he wants to say.

“You want that with me,” Eddie states, though it sounds more like a question. Steve nods anyway. “With me. Wow. I…I wish I was better at this part, at saying the good shit. But I do love you, Steve. I’ve been in love with you since we started this whole thing between us but I…I’ve never had something like this and it terrifies me the way you’ve nestled your way into my brain.” He runs his thumbs under Steve’s eyes, catching tears he won’t acknowledge, because he’s sure he’d start crying, too.

“Do you still have to go?” Steve asks quietly, small in a way that’s unlike him. “I don’t want to keep you here if you don’t want to be”—

“I’ll stay, Steve. I’m sorry that I…I’ll stay, I promise. Let me just—let me get dressed down again and I’ll make all this up to you, swear it.” He’s jittering out of his skin; he wants to run laps through the whole house, wants to climb the walls, scream if he has to. But, in a way that’s unlike him, he continues to cradle Steve’s face in his palms and with languid, thoughtful movements, he kisses Steve between his eyebrows, under his eyes, the tip of his nose, and again on his mouth. “I’ll stay as long as you want me,” Eddie promises, “you won’t have to worry about somebody leaving ever again.”

Steve smiles sticky sweet and soft like a stack of pancakes. “Good,” he whispers, “because I never want to let you go.”

💕——————💕

[lumiambrose]

୨♡୧ Late night rendezvous

Rin Itoshi x reader, fluff

Romance trope mini series - Enemies to lovers

Rin hates you. You’re his brothers assistant and your existence pisses him off. So why does he find himself so out of breath and stunned after he’s left alone with you? 0.7k wc

C.ai bot by Crackbaby_, ooc Sae and implied modest!reader

The first time Rin saw you, he decided he didn’t like you.

You were too… much. Too sharp, too talkative, too unruffled by his glares. And above all, you were his brother’s assistant, constantly orbiting Sae with that annoyingly calm confidence, like you owned the room just by walking into it. Sae didn’t shy away from praises either, which only made Rin hate you more.

You were the perfect little assistant, and Rin despised perfection.

Unfortunately, perfection came with persistence.

“Your training block is over,” you said, standing in the doorway of the gym. Bottle in hand and clad in sleek business casual, you looked like you were ready to conquer the world—or at least Rin’s patience.

“What’s it to you?” Rin snapped, towel slung over his shoulder, shirt clinging to his damp skin.

“It’s my job to make sure everything runs smoothly. And currently, it’s not,” you replied, breezing into the room like you owned it. “Sae pays me to keep an eye on you. Lucky me.”

Rin bristled. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

You raised an eyebrow, unbothered by his tone. “Clearly, you do.”

If a glare could set things on fire, you’d have been burnt to ashes. But you just smirked. That infuriating, knowing smirk that always seemed to say, I know you hate me, and I don’t care.

“Fine,” Rin muttered. “Studio’s free, hope you’re happy.”

“Very.” you said, and before Rin could retort, you were gone, leaving the faint scent of your perfume behind.

It’s always like this between the two of you. Sly remarks, cold shoulders, and verbal sparring matches that left Rin feeling more irritated than victorious. You had a way of getting under his skin, and he hated how easily you would always achieve your goal.

Later that evening, Rin found himself alone in the gym again, driving himself through drills long past midnight. The lights shone down gently on his glistening skin, and his breath came in heavy, uneven bursts as he sent the ball slamming into the goal for the hundredth time.

“Still here, huh?”

Rin froze mid-step, turning to see you standing in the doorway. You were dressed down for once—an oversized hoodie and leggings, your hair slightly messy, as though you’d just came out the shower.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice harsher than intended.

You shrugged, stepping into the room. “I saw the lights on. Got curious.”

“Go home,” Rin said, turning back to the ball. “Don’t you have better things to do?”

“Maybe,” you said, leaning casually against the wall. “But you looked like you were about to implode earlier, so I figured I’d check on you.”

Rin kicked the ball harder than necessary, sending it ricocheting off the wall. “I don’t need your pity.”

“Good,” you replied easily. “Because I’m not offering it.”

He turned to glare at you, but you didn’t flinch. Instead, you walked over to the bench and sat down, watching him like you had all the time in the world.

“What do you want?” Rin snapped.

“Nothing,” you said, leaning back. “I’m just waiting for you to stop punishing yourself.”

Rin clenched his jaw, his fists tightening at his sides. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Don’t I?” you said, your voice softer now. “I know you push yourself harder than anyone else does. I know you think you’re not enough, no matter how much you accomplish. And worst of all, I know that no matter how many people care about you, you keep pushing them away.”

Your words hit harder than Rin expected. He stared at you, his heart pounding in his chest. “Why do you care?” he finally asked, his voice quieter now.

You held his gaze, your expression unreadable. “Because I you’re worth the effort, even if you don’t think so.”

The reply he wished to speak couldn’t leave his lips. Rin’s breath caught, his throat tightening. He didn’t know what to say, how to respond. He hated you—didn’t he?

But as you sat there, waiting patiently for him to speak, Rin realised something he couldn’t ignore. You weren’t just his brother’s assistant or some infuriating girl who had it out for him. You were also a person, with your own joys and life—and for the first time, Rin wasn’t sure if he wanted you to leave.

“You’re still annoying,” he muttered, turning away before you could see the heat rising to his face.

Your laugh was soft, almost fond. “And you’re still a pain in the ass. Guess that makes us even.”

Rin glanced over his shoulder, his lips twitching into something dangerously close to a smile. Maybe you weren’t as bad as he thought.

And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t hate you at all.

Taglist: @sky-casino, @bbladie, @thetwinkims, @ryescapades (join my taglist here)

©lumiambrose ─ do not translate, repost, copy any of my works