#and before you say scholarships....as someone on scholarship they sure as fuck do NOT cover everything

[queenboimler]

i'm still baffled that hen went to med school and then....decided to stay a paramedic?

probably over 250,000 in student debt and for what 😭

[deepdeanvsweston]

Enid Gaines headcanons?

(I'm ill so this might not be as detailed as the other posts but we roll)

Enid, of course, is the murderer, motive that she was cheating at her exams to get into Oxford.

One of the reasons Jolly Foul Play is so interesting to me is that it was a child murdering another child? And in my personal view, they were all originally actually friends. Idk why it's so interesting to me - I suppose something to do with the fact that they were peers, they'd grown up together, gone to boarding school where you see them everyday, learn their habits, what they don't like at breakfast etc etc etc. The intimacy of sharing a room with someone you have no say in, almost like siblings! Except not like that, because you aren't. (This ties in with my post about Elizabeth seeing the Five as her fucked up little held hostage type family)

Even before it was revealed she was the murderer, I felt she was on the outskirts of the Five and Elizabeth. Not being ostracised from them, and certainly not distanced from their actions but as in when they were all actual friends (as I hc them as used to being) she wasn't as close to them. I will explain in headcannons below!

- See I always had Enid down as a scholarship girl (although someone else recently made a post and mentioned she was upper class so now I'm slightly doubting myself but I will continue)

- she joins Deepdean in third form, as a dayboarder with her scholarship

- and the other girls like her, sure, but she hasn't got the posh accent, and her dresses are last year's fashion, and nearly all her things are second hand, not to mention she's a scholarship girl so everyone already thinks she's a swot

- so of course she tries to fit in, very similar to how Hazel scuffs her shoes and throws about her textbooks

- the other girls begin to want to be her friend now, ask her to walk with them to class and be partners in gym

- Lettice takes her on as a 'project' (a little like what happens in Emma) and lends her hair ribbons and hangs out with her (Lettice to my mind is very popular before becoming one of The Five) which is how she's introduced to the others

- she can't be the Swot if she wants to keep her friends though, so her grades slip

- her father is furious, and her mother is just a wet blanket so lets it happen (think Gwendolyn's parents in Malory Towers, if you were familiar)

- he tells Enid she should 'work harder, all that effort for nothing otherwise, friends don't last but money does, and the friends she does have are vapid and obsessed with silly things'

- "Enid, you're better than this! Keep an eye on the future, not on hockey, or hair!"

- this succeeds in creating resentment between her and the other girls, and also her parents move her to full boarding to help her focus at the same time Elizabeth turns cruel (see my E.H post for this!!!)

- so she is IMMEDIATELY thrown into this dorm family of hatred and of course she has to wonder, have all her friends always been like this?

- have they always been evil and terrible and manipulative? Has she?

- Elizabeth learns her secret quite late on as Enid doesn't start cheating until halfway through fifth form and Enid's sort of... boring in that sense

- she's a scholarship girl, and a swot, but everyone already knows this, it's no leverage.

- there's no big moment where Enid decides to start cheating, she's just tired and wants an easy way out

- and Elizabeth has started to view Enid as almost a dissident atp because she is still ever so slightly on the outside and also is still genuine friends with Lettice (her secret, her stay in the pyshciatric hospital, having not happened yet) which means she can't quite be turned against everyone not yet, and so E.H keeps a close eye on her for any trip ups

- Enid, now close friends with Lettice, tells Elizabeth that she's off to a psychiatric hospital to cover herself, maybe if she proves herself loyal to E.H she won't turn on her.

- it doesn't work. Elizabeth quickly realises that Enid has something to hide

- and Elizabeth finds out she's cheating, and the rest of the Five can now constantly imply that Enid is now no better than the rest of them, she's stuck like they all are.

- and so Bonfire Night rolls around and Enid sees the hockey stick and Elizabeth's back to her.

- it being Bonfire Night and Enid being a dramatic bitch who's read about Guy Fawkes, envisions herself as a successful him, taking down a tyrannical ruling power, and she doesn't hesitate as her fingers curl round the handle.

- 'how could she. I worked so hard. She knows I have. She deserves this like I deserve Oxford'

- she also feels guilt about Lettice's secret. Enid's final thought as the wood hits Elizabeth's head is "this is for Lettice"

- after it all happens Enid is furious as as she realises The Five won't visit her in prison. Didn't she save them?

[feuqueerfire]

DFF Characters That Compel Me

Hard for me to say I like these characters but there are a few who I'm fascinated by and think about them often and apparently wanted to write a long post about it.

I'd love to hear if you have any characters that gave you brain rot and want to write about, especially because idk if most people have a favourite character in here? Or if they love the character? I'm curious to know how people interact with the characters in this show.

I'll talk about 3: New-Tan, Tee, and Fluke.

New-Tan

Of my top 3, the most obvious and popular one is New-Tan. I will always love a sibling bond in stories and what's better than sibling revenge? Especially delicious because New was a shit Phi to Non while they were living in the same house, didn't care about anything Non said or showed him, and probably did nothing to comfort Non when their parents looked at New more favourably. And yet, he gives up his entire self for Non: He gives up his scholarship and his education, he lies to his parents, and he constantly smokes drugs to get to see Non. He gives up his entire identity when he assumes the new role of Tan and becomes someone whose existence and purpose is to avenge Non. I liked the twist that it was actually New who was the driver behind the revenge, it felt so much more desperate. The revenge and killing also take so much patience and intelligence, whether it be the drugs or the traps or making Top the faux killer for a bit. In the end, he follows his brother's script and makes sure that they all die and nobody leaves that house.

I think a lot of love and support for New came from people's love and pity for Non because they wanted New to avenge Non. Non wasn't really a character that I felt much for, to be honest; like obviously his situation was sad but I never really thought about him when he wasn't on-screen, so I think my view of New is more about what doing all this means to New himself rather than what it means for Non.

I loved the ending for him too. As I said, he gave everything up and had nothing waiting for him out there, so it feels narratively fitting that he dies in that house with them. Before, New used to see Non tell him to take revenge and accuse him of abondoning him but here, he sees Non thank him for avenging him in his hallucinations. Then, he immediately thinks about using Uncle Dang and White as collateral, the innocents that he had to use and discard (the same way Non was), to gain that gratitude. Doesn't have much time to duel on it though because he's helpless again when he sees Non hang himself. I'm glad that the last thing New sees is Non emerging from the light to thank him before returning to the light.

Love him <3 Also look at his cute, mass-murdering face here (when Fluke shoots Top I think)

Seems like I have a lot to say, so I'll put Tee and Fluke under Read More.

Tee

In the earlier episodes, Tee was irritating as he and Top kept trying to destroy the footage, fucking ran off with the motorcycle, and were just being overall selfish and hiding things. In the past, I was softening up to Tee when we discovered that he, as a teenager, works doing shady shit for his uncle to buy meds for his father but he was still a POS.

I can't believe he covered for Top and made Non not only take the blame for it but also dragged him into the stupid gang mafia horse account shit with him. He brought Non into this world that had no way of escape, like if Non couldn't get the money, interest would continue accruing and he'd be trapped in the cycle while after he did get the money, Non was beaten and kidnapped. Non literally died in the stupid room.

Yet Tee claimed he didn't think that his uncle would truly kill Non or whatever, how stupid, how can you think that after you've worked under him? His naiveté confused me and I still wonder if it wasn't purposeful ignorance. If Tee convinces himself that he truly never guessed what could happen to Non, maybe he'll feel less guilt about what ended up happening. Selfish, selfish.

Tee felt so alone, even if he was in the group it's not like he could tell them about his side hustle (except fuckass Top). When he was consumed by guilt after Non's death, he still couldn't tell anybody what truly happened. He didn't have family to rely on, either. His scene with his father was so sad as he cried that his father was supposed to be the one taking care of him but his dad was laughing about how Tee has gray hairs now. Ah, sad.

Then, of course, he meets the only good thing in his life, White. He's such a bastard to White too, like getting his high school bf who is 2-years younger into pot lol (White was probably 15 there?), fucking leaving White to get on that bike with Top, and also his apparently uncontrollable jealousy. It seemed like such an over-the-top reaction when he reacts badly to White and Jin's acting scene in ep 1 and the fact that White's hallucination fear at the end involved Tee breaking up with him with accusations of being unfaithful? Bro, Tee, while White was brining light into your life, what the hell were you doing for White? And then of course the end, where he stabbed White... I don't even have words.

I like Tee but I'm influenced by Tee/White, sue me. I've been watching edits and been in a state of disarray because I'm so sad about this. Fucking fuck fuck. I watch series and sometimes I love a pairing and that manifests into me thinking up scenarios of them post-canon or in a missing scene in the show. Can't do that here, can I? Fuck, I was prepared for Tee to die. I needed Tee to die, I wanted him dead dead dead. I was not prepared for what the fuck they gave me, I can't believe Tee stabbed White.

Love him <3 selfish, lonely fucker who was trapped but dragged Non and White into his hell with him.

Also have this TeeWhite edit to White Ferrari by Frank Ocean. "You say we're taller in another dimension" is truly ending me fuck

Fluke

Personally, I haven't heard much discussion about Fluke but he was the first character who I got really into because we started to get to know his personality in the earlier eps while he was alone in the house with White and taking care of Por.

I got into watching shows/series through Squid Game lol and the character that most compelled me there was Sangwoo, truly another dickhead and although they're not the same at all, I still found some similarities, such as their career-related status (Sangwoo being an SNU-graduate with a great job unlike most others there and Fluke's obsession with having a clean record to become a doctor), throwing their weight around (tricking Ali and being mean/scary to White), and just their selfish tendencies in general.

Fluke was overly concerned with his reputation and didn't want the new kids to know what happened 3 years ago with Non, which is what I first picked up on about his character before we got to the flashbacks. It was so selfish; people were worried about a life-and-death situation, but Fluke could only think about his future ambitions. I remember being extremely baffled at the end of episode 4 (I believe) when he points the gun at Tee, tells the walkie-talkie to not come, and then DESTROYS it, severing their connection to the outside world and leaving them trapped with a murderer/ghost/whatever. Just so that they don't become murder suspects for Por's death? girl, I don't understand your plan but you were clearly blinded by your greed for the future.

I love seeing selfish, cowardly characters, and Fluke certainly is one. He witnessed such crucial wrongs and misdoings against Non (Top breaking the camera which started the whole damn thing and Non recording the video which broke the camel's back) but never once spoke up. He said he didn't want to become "like [Non]" meaning he was protecting his own hide by making sure there was someone more bullyable present so that they didn't turn on him. A coward and a dick. In the end, I found it fitting that he had to gouge his eyes out.

Fluke didn't ever stand up to his friends or oppose them, but his cowardly ass was ordering White around while they were alone. Also, the bravado with which he wielded the gun in the later episodes, even taking White hostage and shooting Top, but once somebody else like Tee or Phee had the gun, he was cowering, rolled into a ball with his knees to his chest. Ah, the different ways he behaves when he thinks he has the upper hand vs when he's at somebody else's mercy!

Love him, what a useless character <3 Also, if you ever need to tell your secret but don't want it to get out, just tell Fluke to get it off your chest, that man is never saying a damn thing (even if it would save someone's life).

Anyway, that's that I guess. So many words here and none of it new but I needed to write all these words out, they were haunting me.

[pickalilywrites]

Lily, would you write some pokopiku? 🥹

anon, i will always write some pkpk!

breaking free

pokopiku. high school musical au. 3984 words.

Soaring, flying

There’s not a star in heaven that we can’t reach 

Porco can only recall those two lines, but the rest of the muddled melody plays in his mind for days on end. Sometimes he doesn’t know if he’s imagining it or if it’s just Pieck humming it beside him. When he’s lost in a daze, that song playing in the background of his mind, he’ll startle from his daydream and turn expecting to see her by his side only to realize that it was all in his head the entire time.  

He doesn’t hate music. In fact, he actually kind of likes it. He might not go out of his way to attend concerts or buy musical tickets. Hell, he hasn’t even paid attention to any of the low-budget productions that his school puts on every semester until recently. He just likes to strum the lonely guitar sitting in his living room every once in a while, and he admittedly doesn’t mind hearing Pieck humming beside him when they should be focusing on their chemistry experiment. It’s just that he has other things he should be thinking about: how to improve his free throws, the upcoming basketball game with Shiganshina High, and the basketball championship that his team is set on winning. He has no time for songs or dances no matter how many fliers Pieck shoves under his nose.  

He finds it curious that she’s even interested in the school’s upcoming musical, although she’s never been normal in the first place. She had transferred here a month into the new school year. The teachers adored her for her intelligence and her willingness to participate in class. Her academic credentials were undoubtedly impressive: a straight A student with a dozen math and science championship titles under her belt. She would, of course, be representing Liberio High in the International Math Olympiad with all the other math whizzes in their school. She fit quite neatly into her niche of smart, intellectual students destined to graduate one year early and attend an Ivy League just as Porco fit neatly into his own niche of big, burly athletes that were aiming to attend a top-rated sports university on an athletic scholarship. 

Porco is putting his books away in his locker when someone slams it shut, making him jump.  

“Jesus, Pieck!” he yelps. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest. “What the fuck? You could have slammed my fingers in there.”  

“Oh, please. I wouldn’t have done that to the school’s basketball star shooting guard,” Pieck says with a crooked smile. She leans against his locker, her head resting against the cool metal door. “I made sure your precious fingers were out of the way before I closed the locker door.”  

“I’m the point guard,” Porco says even though he’s had to correct Pieck on his position on the basketball team multiple times at this point. He has a feeling she purposely gets it wrong just to annoy him. He can feel the tips of his ears begin to sting, although he doesn’t quite know why. “What do you want anyway? You don’t have to keep reminding me to write my lab report. They’re individual anyway.” 

“Aw, you’re so grown up now,” Pieck coos, and Porco wants to cover his ears before they turn completely red but he resists the urge and keeps his hands at his side. “No, that’s not what I wanted to talk to you about. I just wanted to tell you that I signed you up for the upcoming school musical. The auditions are tomorrow.”  

Porco straightens up in alarm. He would think this were a joke, but he wouldn’t put it past Pieck to scrawl his name down on the audition list for real. She had been talking about it for the past few weeks when auditions were first announced, but he didn’t think she would actually do it. She had math competitions to study for and he had his basketball games. With all the time they put in their current extracurriculars, he didn’t know how they would even have the time to prepare for a musical on the slim chance they managed to pass auditions.  

“You’re joking, right?” he asks, but he feels as if he already knows the answer to that question when he sees the way Pieck’s smile never breaks. He runs a hand through his hair and curses when he sees the grease that covers his fingers from his hair gel. He glares at Pieck as if this is her fault, but she doesn’t seem deterred. “Pieck, I’m not a musical guy. It’s fine if you want to juggle all of these different things — math whiz, science nerd, theater geek — but I have my hands full as it is being -”  

“- a jock?” Pieck finishes for him, eye brow raised. She rolls her eyes, a laugh escaping her lips. For some reason, Porco is beginning to feel ashamed. Pieck pushes herself off Porco’s locker. Her smile is a little less relaxed now, stretched into a thin, tight line. “Come on, Porco. You can’t seriously subscribe to the strict status quo that all your classmates do. It’s all made up by teenagers, for God’s sake. You must want more in life than being shoved into a shoebox labeled ‘high school basketball star.’”  

“Well, maybe I like being a high school basketball star. Maybe you’re dissatisfied with being good at one thing, but I’m perfectly happy with it,” Porco snaps. He hikes the strap of his backpack up his shoulder and looks down at Pieck, but the frown that has replaced her smile doesn’t make him feel very good about defending himself.  

Pieck purses her lips and looks as if she’s about to turn away, but she opens her mouth instead. “You know, I signed you up because I thought it would be fun, and also because I thought you would be good at it.” She looks down at the tiles on the hallway floor, reaching up to brush a lock of hair behind her ear. "I hear you singing sometimes, and I think it’s amazing. You probably don’t even realize it, but you were singing just a few minutes earlier. It was under your breath, but I heard you.”  

Porco’s cheeks begin to flush and he wants to deny it, but he knows that what Pieck says is true. He’s been singing the song for the audition piece because it plays in his head on repeat. He wants to snap at Pieck again and blame her for getting the song stuck in his head in the first place, but he knows that there isn’t any point. She isn’t saying anything hurtful, just pointing something out what he’s been trying to ignore for years: he enjoys music. If it wasn’t the song for the musical, it would be some other song that he’d be singing under his breath. Even if he’d never admit it out loud, he has thought about what it would feel like to be standing underneath a spotlight on a stage instead of a basketball court.  

“It’s okay if you just want to play basketball, but … I don’t think it’s bad to like other things either,” Pieck says. She raises her brown eyes to meet his hazel ones. One hand reaches out, and Pieck’s fingertips graze Porco’s arm. “We’re too young to be playing personas that other people have written for us. We should be figuring out who we are on our own terms without minding what other people might think of us.”  

Pieck squeezes his arm and Porco watches as she leaves. A few people glance in Pieck’s direction. She’s been a spectacle at their school ever since she had transferred here, and people weren’t used to seeing someone who was on the math team speak with a member of the basketball team. Now that Porco thinks about it, he doesn’t know why that would be enough reason for people to stop and stare. People should be allowed to associate with whoever they like regardless of what clubs they’re in or sports they play. He knows it’s ridiculous, but he still feels embarrassed anyway and pulls up the collar of his bomber jacket and skulks away as if he’s done something shameful. 

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

“Are you auditioning for the musical or something?”  

Porco has never particularly liked Reiner Braun, but the power forward’s voice is especially grating today. After his conversation with Pieck earlier this morning, Porco finds he’s especially irritable, but he doesn’t want to take it out on anyone recklessly so he grits his teeth and asks, “What are you talking about?”  

A panic seizes his chest and he can feel his heart rate pick up. Paranoia begins to pick away at Porco, whispering in his ear. Reiner Braun must have seen you talking with Pieck. He must know that you’ve been thinking about what Pieck had said. He must have seen your name on the audition list. Porco doesn’t know why the thought of Reiner knowing about his conversation with Pieck bothers him so much, but he tries to play it nonchalant despite the clamminess in his hands. He shoots a ball at the hoop in front of him and misses terribly.  

Reiner, always happy to see Porco failing, grins when he sees Porco’s missed shot. He turns back to Porco, a knowing smile on his face. “Come on, everyone’s heard you singing the audition song in the locker room. Even if you’re singing it under your breath, we can all hear you. You’re not seriously thinking of auditioning, are you?”  

Last year, Porco would have scoffed and told Reiner he was stupid for even entertaining the thought. A basketball player didn’t have any place in the school musical. People at this school adhere so much to their little stereotyped boxes that Porco never would have considered auditioning for the school musical until Pieck had waltzed in and started singing that damn song. Now is his chance to deny it, but he doesn’t want to. All he can think about instead is how annoying it is to have Reiner’s judgmental sneer in his face and how there isn’t any harm in just auditioning for a dumb school play.  

“I don’t really see how that’s any of your business,” Porco finds himself saying instead and Reiner steps back, startled at his teammate’s answer.  

“Well, it kind of is my business. It’s everyone’s business. You can’t be making these types of decisions by yourself,” Reiner begins, and already Porco finds his temper rising. Reiner continues, not noticing the way Porco’s grip on the basketball tighten. “You’re part of a basketball team, and a pretty important part of the team, and it’s everyone’s job to get to the championship. If you’re taking time to sing and dance on stage for a stupid school play, you might cost us first place. We haven’t lost first place in years. The whole school is counting on us.”  

“I didn’t ask for this responsibility!” Porco snaps. Why should an entire championship hinge on the shoulders of a teenage boy? Why shouldn’t he be able to do a silly little play even if his talents might lie elsewhere? Why can’t he just do things he enjoys without everyone having a say in what he should and shouldn’t do?  

Reiner’s smile falters and his brow furrows. “You’ve been awfully strange lately. Basketball used to be the only thing you cared about. The rest of the team has been concerned, too. ” The corner of Reiner’s lip twitches in a knowing smile. “I know you’ve been getting closer to Pieck, but I don’t think you should hang out with her anymore. You only started acting weird after meeting her.”  

Porco’s patience was already wearing thin. At the mention of Pieck’s name — with the implication that Pieck was the reason for his declining performance in basketball practice — his patience snaps entirely, but rather than throwing a fist or hurling insults at his teammate, Porco simply asks Reiner, “Why are you dating Historia?” 

Reiner’s smile falters once more, caught off guard by Porco’s question. “Why are you asking -”  

“Why do you like Historia?” Porco interrupts.  

Reiner’s brow furrows and he shrinks down, his shoulders hunching over. It’s a stark contrast to the way he typically holds himself: confident, brash, bold. Now, he seems uncertain as he fumbles for an answer. “She’s the head cheerleader. Why wouldn’t I like her?” Reiner replies, but his smile is too shaky for his response to be one hundred percent truthful.  

“So if she weren’t the head cheerleader, you wouldn’t even give her a second glance?” Porco asks.  

“Why are you asking me this?” Reiner asks. His cheeks are turning red as he becomes more and more flustered. He pulls at the collar of his jersey, fanning himself, and turns his face away from Porco. “Look, I like Historia. Doesn’t it just make sense that we’d be together? I’m the power forward on the basketball team. She’s the head cheerleader. We complement each other.”  

“Do you, though?” Porco steps forward, challenging Reiner. Reiner had outgrown him years ago, gaining several inches in height as everyone was going through their growth spurts. Porco could never keep up with him in height, but now he feels like he’s like he’s the one towering over Reiner as the power forward continues to shrink down with doubt. “Forget about whatever cliques or extracurricular groups we’re in for a second. Do you like her? Do you like being with her? What do you two even talk about?”  

Porco feels like he knows the answers to all those questions, and he asks them anyway. Two months ago, Reiner and Historia had never even spoken a word to each other. It was only when Pieck had transferred here that they began talking. When Pieck was about to be seated in the back, Reiner raised his hand and volunteered to give up his seat in the second row for her so that Pieck would be able to see better. He sat next to Historia and, although the cheerleader seemed disinterested at first, the two eventually went out, but Porco always felt strange about their relationship. They didn’t seem affectionate except for the occasional chaste kiss on the cheek at basketball games. When they hung out at parties, Historia was always tapping away at her phone. Reiner talked to his friends on the basketball court than he talked to Historia. They are the biggest couple on campus, but they don’t seem to like each other very much.  

Reiner must know that, too, because his face begins to contort in confusion and then in anger. “What’s your fucking problem, Galliard?”  

“What’s your problem?” Porco asks. “What makes you think you have the right to criticize my relationship with Pieck when your relationship with Historia seems so vapid in comparison? Woohoo, hot basketball star with the head cheerleader, but you guys don’t even talk to each other unless people are watching you. You have a deeper relationship with Bertholdt than Historia.” 

Something about what Porco says angers Reiner even more. In his anger, Reiner grabs the basketball from Porco only to throw it angrily back at him. He throws it with such force that Porco has to stumble backward when he catches it. The basketball feels like a punch to the gut.  

“Fuck you,” Reiner snarls, and he turns and stalks off but not in time to hide the slight trembling of his voice.  

Porco can feel his blood pumping, thrumming in his ears. He grips the basketball tightly between his hands and turns towards the hoop. He’s standing at the free throw line, but the hoop somehow feels further than it normally is. He prepares himself to take a shot, bending down slightly to aim. He flings the ball forward and misses entirely. It isn’t even close.  

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 

For all his brave words to Reiner and challenging who they should and shouldn’t be associating with, Porco doesn’t make any further moves to rock the boat. He wants to avoid the curious glances from his classmates and judgmental stares from his peers. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together. He doesn’t even dare to hum the song under his breath for fear of being overheard. He doesn’t want anyone — any innocent classmates passing by, Pieck, or even himself — to get the wrong idea.  

Still, he finds the flyer being slipped over his desk every day leading up to the audition. Pieck doesn’t say much when she sends the flyer in his direction. She slips it to him wordlessly every morning before their chemistry lecture starts and then ignores him for the rest of the class unless they have to discuss the reading together or work on an experiment. She’s not her usual bubbly self even when he’s kinder to her than usual, asking her mundane questions about her day or classes that he normally wouldn’t. He’s grateful for her curt answers no matter how short because at least that means he gets to hear his voice. He wonders if he should apologize, but he doesn’t know what for exactly. He’s never really been the best at apologies in the first place.  

At the end of each chemistry class, she taps again at the flyer. She raises her eyes towards his face but never quite meets his eyes. Quietly, she always says, “The audition is soon. It would be good if you could make it.”  

He always makes up the same excuse. His words always ring hollow in his ears. He wonders if Pieck hears it, too, the hesitancy in his voice when he says he can’t audition because he doesn’t know the words and he doesn’t have the time to rehearse because he has basketball practice. The truth is that he knows every single line, he’s memorized it and hears her sing every word in his head every second of every day. He knows the song by heart and he can envision himself singing it alongside her, his voice harmonizing with hers as they stand underneath the spotlight. Even thinking about it is thrilling. It makes his heart beat faster than any basketball game ever did, but it’s not something he’s willing to ever admit so he ignores the pounding in his chest and tells Pieck there’s no way he could ever audition. He isn’t meant for it. She should go audition for it if it’s something she really wants to do, but she shouldn’t count on him to show up.  

“I think you’d do great,” Pieck says on the day of the audition. Her finger is pointed towards the flyer once more, tapping on the date which is circled in red pen in case Porco misses it. She finally meets his gaze today, and she looks almost hopeful even though he’s tried to crush any hopes she had every other day.  

“I have practice,” Porco mumbles, and he doesn’t even take the flyer this time. He leaves it on his desk and grabs his backpack instead, hustling out of the room as fast as he can so he can avoid Pieck’s disappointed gaze.  

He hurries off to practice, but it feels like he’s running away from something. Even once he’s changed into his jersey and running on the court with his teammates, he can’t stop thinking of how he had left Pieck standing alone at their desk. He had never promised her anything, and yet it feels as if he’s abandoned her. His mind is filled with her — her lonely silhouette standing underneath the bright stage lights, her disappointed expression every time he turned her down, her voice echoing across the empty auditorium. He doesn’t hear the voice of his coach yelling at him or his teammates shouting at him when they tell him to pass the ball. All he can hear is that song again, the song that he would have sang if he went to the audition.  

“What’s wrong with you?” his coach shouts before pulling him out of practice to sit on the bench.  

Porco wishes he could answer, but it’s too complex to give a straight answer so he sits on the cold, metal bench and stares at his shoes. Every so often, he glances at the clock on the wall and grows more anxious with every minute that passes. It’s almost four o’clock. That’s when the auditions are meant to conclude. Had Pieck already gone? Had she auditioned by herself, singing that song that was meant to be a duet? Had she gone on without him, doing something he was too afraid to do himself?  

He tastes blood on his tongue and jerks his head back in surprise. He hadn’t even noticed he had started chewing on his thumb nail. He bit too close to the quick and now his thumb is bleeding. He staunches the blood by pressing it against the hem of his shorts, but the material does little to stop the bleeding. He curses and looks back up at the clock. How can move so agonizingly slow and so fast at the same time?  

Without warning, he stands up and begins to run toward the gym entrance. 

“Galliard!” the coach shouts. “Where the fuck are you going?”  

Where I should have been all along, Porco thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He has more important things to do.  

He stumbles through the back of the auditorium and he can see other people who have just finished auditioning looking at him quizzically. They’re people he can’t recognize, part of the theater geek circle that he doesn’t associate with. They’re probably wondering why he’s there at all, and Porco would wonder the same thing if he couldn’t hear Pieck’s voice ringing through the theater. 

He creeps through the backstage towards the sound of Pieck’s voice, clear as crystal as she sings half a duet. It sounds empty without the other person singing the other half, but she keeps her voice steady as she sings, undeterred that she’s singing alone.  

Porco finally reaches the curtain and pushes it back slightly to catch a glimpse of Pieck. Her back is turned towards him and she faces the drama instructor, her voice never wavering even under the director’s stern gaze. She only has the piano to accompany her, but she sings confidently. Her voice fills the entire theater and Porco can hear it, the missing half of the song. He doesn’t realize that he’s singing along with her, that it’s not his imagination that’s filling in the gap but his own voice, until Pieck turns toward him. 

She doesn’t look angry at him or even surprised. Her lips turn upward as she sings and she gestures for him to step forward, to join her onstage, and he takes her invitation, never missing a beat even when he feels the heat of the spotlight on his skin. 

“We’re soaring, flying,” Porco sings, his voice mingling with Pieck’s. He thought his legs would shake as soon as he stepped on stage, but he feels at ease by her side. “There’s not a star in heaven we can’t reach.”  

His eyes meet Pieck’s and he can feel his own lips stretch into a smile even as he sings. He’s not sure if he’s meant to be on stage. He doesn’t know if he’ll even make it past this audition, but he knows that this feels thrilling, like he’s broken chains that he didn’t know were shackled to him. He feels like he’s finally free.  

[bloody-bee-tea]

BeeTober 2023 Day 30 - Castle

“You understand, right?“ Suguru’s mother asks over the phone and Suguru barely hears her over the ringing in his ears.

“Right,” he tonelessly gives back.

“Tell him with that lifestyle of his, it’s just—” his father’s voice trails off in the background.

Right, his lifestyle. The one where he lives together with Satoru and is gay. Not that these two are connected in any way, no matter how much he wants them to be.

“Yes, the thing with your boyfriend,” his mother unsurely relays his father’s words and Suguru sucks in a sharp breath.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” he tells his mother, not for the first time, but of course she barely even listens to him.

“We simply cannot, in good conscience, support this anymore.”

“That includes my studies?” Suguru asks because he needs to know just how fucked he truly is.

If his parents no longer send him money for anything he needs to know that.

“You should have just taken up work in that car shop in town,” Suguru’s father tells him and Suguru’s mouth twists in a sneer.

He’s been studying philosophy on a teacher’s degree for two years now and still his father never fails to bring that up.

“I understand,” Suguru says after a long pause where no one says anything and then simply hangs up on his parents.

His hand is shaking, he belatedly realises, and as if it was just waiting for him to notice the tremor spreads through his entire body. Suguru could have managed rent somehow; there is always need for someone to work more hours at the coffee shop he works at after all. But adding his tuition fees to that? There’s no way he will be able to pay for that as well.

Suguru thought he had something good going for him, built a life of his own with Satoru—no matter how platonic it might be—but now he realises that it was like a castle build on sand.

And it’s all coming down around him.

Suguru doesn’t know how he’s going to cover all of his expenses, doesn’t know how he’ll work enough hours and study at the same time but there is one thing he definitely knows.

Satoru can never know about this.

~*~*~

Suguru applied for several scholarships, most of which accepted him. That means he has most of his tuition fees covered, but he has to maintain his grades. And working three shifts at two different jobs is not helping with that.

Suguru barely sleeps these days, spending his days working or studying—and sometimes both—and he only eats what he can scarf down on his way to classes or work.

It’s all something he can cope with, somehow, by telling himself that it’s temporary, that it will get better once he finished his studies and takes up a full-time job but the one thing he cannot cope with is not being able to see Satoru.

Their schedules were erratic at best even before this entire mess happened but now Suguru is barely home. He leaves before Satoru is up and comes back home long after he has gone to sleep—if Suguru comes home at all and doesn’t pull an all-nighter in the library—and he misses Satoru something fierce.

He misses his stupid hair and his stupid glasses and the ease with which they always fit together, be it working around each other in the kitchen or snuggling up on the couch for a movie.

Suguru just misses him and some days he thinks all of this is not worth it.

He knows he can just tell Satoru the truth; Satoru is loaded enough that none of this would even make a dent and he would be willing to cover Suguru’s expenses, Suguru knows that.

But it doesn’t feel right.

He wants them to be equals, wants them to be able to stand next to each other and while Suguru is sure that Satoru still could do that, he knows himself well enough to know that he could never forget about the huge debt he owes Satoru.

And he doesn’t want this to poison his relationship with Satoru.

It’s not as if you’re going to have much of a relationship with him anymore, if things continue like that, a tiny voice says in the back of Suguru’s head and he hates how right it is.

He hasn’t talked to Satoru in almost a week. He barely has time to answer his texts and Suguru hates every second of it.

And it seems Satoru feels the same because when Suguru drags his exhausted self home, Satoru is waiting for him at the kitchen table.

It’s way past Satoru’s bedtime and immediately, Suguru feels guilty.

“Why are you still up?” he asks, even though he damn well knows why. It’s his fault.

He ignores the pang in his chest at finally seeing Satoru again and lets himself fall into one of the empty chairs. It feels as if his entire being aches; most of it is lack of sleep and over-working himself but a good part is also due to the distance to Satoru.

“Great question,” Satoru gives back and he sounds pissed. “Why are you never home anymore?” he then asks and he’s glaring at Suguru.

“I’m busy,” Suguru tells him and it’s not even a lie.

He’s so busy these days.

“Are you mad at me?” Satoru asks next and Suguru jerks at the question.

“No,” he rushes to reassure Satoru. “It has nothing to do with you. I’m just busy.”

“Why? It wasn’t like that before. What happened?”

Suguru knows that Satoru just wants to help, just wants to understand and it would be so easy to tell him, to take what he will no doubt offer and then finally be able to sleep for more than four hours at once again.

But Suguru’s pride won’t allow it.

“Nothing happened. Work just picked up and studies, too. That’s all. It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“I do, though. Suguru, you look like shit. I haven’t seen you in a week and you’re barely yourself anymore. You don’t text back, you’re never home and you don’t talk to me. Of course I worry.”

“It’s nothing,” Suguru whispers out, his eyes burning. He can’t keep looking at Satoru or he’s going to have a minor break down, he just knows it.

“It’s not nothing,” Satoru says with conviction and sometimes Suguru hates how incredibly persistent he can be. “I give you a week. If things don’t change by then, I will make you tell me what’s going on.”

It’s a promise but to Suguru it feels like a threat. There is no way he can manage to even his workload out enough to spend more time with Satoru and he damn well knows that if Satoru really puts his mind to it, he can force Suguru to tell him everything.

“Please don’t,” Suguru mutters but Satoru only gives him a hard glare.

“I miss you, Suguru,” Satoru says and Suguru’s heart aches.

“I miss you, too,” he admits, and at least that comes easy to him.

“Then talk to me,” Satoru implores him but Suguru shakes his head, causing Satoru to sigh. “Fine. A week then. Better have a convincing lie ready, if you don’t want me to know the truth.”

He leaves Suguru with that, lets the words fall around Suguru like heavy stones and the added weight barely even registers for Suguru. He’s spread too thin already; he can’t worry about this as well now.

He’ll just have to make up something on the spot in a week because he doesn’t doubt for a second that Satoru is going to keep his promise.

~*~*~

Suguru has been home exactly two times since his talk with Satoru and he has half a mind to simply not go home once the week he was given is up. But he knows Satoru well enough to know that he will track him down and Satoru will make sure they are having this talk, no matter where.

And Suguru would prefer it if it wasn’t in public.

So when the seven days are up, he does make his way back home. He knows Satoru will be there and waiting for him because he received a threatening message not even an hour ago.

Be home at 5pm sharp or else is all it says and since this is Satoru the or else could literally be anything.

And Suguru is not going to take that chance.

He still doesn’t know what he’s going to tell Satoru, doesn’t know how to lie to him convincingly—and never has, if he’s being honest—and he also doesn’t know how to explain in a way that won’t make Satoru incredibly angry.

This evening, Suguru can only lose.

This time Satoru is waiting for him on the couch and he doesn’t even say anything. He just waits for Suguru to sit down and then pierces him with the most searching gaze Suguru ever had the misfortune to be under and just like that, he breaks.

He has always been incredibly easy for Satoru.

“My parents think we are together,” is the first thing out of his mouth and Satoru isn’t quick enough to hide just how hurt he is by that, by the thought that Suguru is avoiding him to prevent rumors.

“They are not even here,” he hisses, though even his anger feels lacking. “Why are you trying so hard to disprove that?”

“It’s not like that,” Suguru says and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head. “They cut me off. It’s a convenient excuse for them; that and the fact that I’m studying instead of working like they think I should.”

“They cut you—is this about money?” Satoru almost yells out and now his anger seems so much more real.

“Yes,” Suguru simply says and he still doesn’t know how to explain this to Satoru.

Satoru never had to want for money in his life.

There is a long moment of silence.

“How many jobs are you working?” Satoru finally wants to know and Suguru closes his eyes.

He’s so tired.

“Two. Three shifts.”

“And your studies?”

“I have to maintain my grades for the scholarships I applied to.”

“You’re working yourself to the ground.”

Suguru can’t even refute that. He has lost even more weight this week and he fears at this point the eyebags will be permanent.

“Why not—“ Satoru starts before he scoots closer to Suguru’s side, gently pressing their knees together as if he’s checking if he’s still allowed.

Suguru presses back.

“I know this has occurred to you, but why not ask me?” Satoru quietly asks and Suguru shudders.

It would be so easy.

“I can’t,” he whispers out and feels like shit when Satoru takes the liberty to melt against his side.

His weight is familiar and something inside of Suguru that has ached for all this time finally relaxes.

“Why not?” Satoru’s voice matches his and Suguru’s eyes burn.

He’s not sure if it’s a lack of sleep or tears.

“I would always remember the debt I owe you. We both know I could never pay you back. I know you wouldn’t care,” Suguru says before Satoru can say it, “but I do. It would always hang over me. I don’t want that.”

“So you’d rather not see me at all anymore,” Satoru mutters, resting his head on Suguru’s shoulder. “Is that what you want? To not be in debt but—you’d lose me.”

“I hated every second of the last two weeks,” Suguru fervently whispers and grasps for Satoru’s hand. “I hated it. But I don’t know what to do. I don’t know anymore.”

The lack of sleep has not been helping with his ability to think clearly and the lack of Satoru in his life hasn’t made it easier, either. It’s almost as if he has been on withdrawal lately and he leans more heavily against Satoru.

He has to catch up on a lot of missed time.

“I know what to do,” Satoru says and there is confidence in his words but he moves away from Suguru.

Before Suguru can mourn the loss of warmth at his side, Satoru cups his cheek in his hand and turns his face so he’s looking straight at Satoru.

“I want an honest answer, Suguru,” Satoru demands and he only goes on when Suguru nods.

He can’t tear his eyes away from Satoru’s eyes. He almost forgot how blue they are.

“Do you love me?” Satoru asks him and Suguru’s breath catches in his chest.

Suguru knows what Satoru is asking; this is not about their friendship. This is about everything else, all the things they have never talked about and always just took for granted between them.

Still, the answer comes easy to Suguru, because nothing has been quite as true for him as this.

“Yes,” he simply says and Satoru nods as if he didn’t expect anything else.

“Marry me,” he says next and now that catches Suguru completely off guard.

“What?” he breathes out, because surely he must have misheard.

“Marry me,” Satoru repeats. “Be my husband. Let us share everything.”

It is everything Suguru never dared to imagine for himself but he can’t bring himself to agree like he so desperately wants.

Not if Satoru is only doing this for him.

“If you think you can trick me into saying yes so there won’t be debt between us, then you’re wrong,” he says, and his voice almost doesn’t shake. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll figure something out.”

“Suguru,” Satoru says and still, his gaze is just as piercing as before. “It’s not like that, and you know it.”

“Do I? It’s not as if you’ve said something about how you feel,” Suguru almost childishly gives back, but the lack of a confession from Satoru stings.

“I regularly tell you that you’re my one and only. Of course I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

“Not true,” Suguru chokes out and now those are definitely tears. “You hated me then.”

“Because I knew how important you’d be to me and I was thrown off,” Satoru immediately replies and there is no doubt in his voice. “It’s always been you.”

“It’s always been you for me, too,” Suguru admits because even the thought of someone else being this important to him is laughable.

It has been Satoru and it always will be Satoru.

“Then marry me. Be my husband and let me share your burden for once. God knows you share enough of mine already.”

“I don’t mind. I never have,” Suguru promises him and his heart feels close to bursting when Satoru smiles at him. And he has missed this so fiercely that he just has to lean forward and taste the smile for himself.

“I know that you don’t mind,” Satoru says when they part. “And I won’t mind having to share this. Or anything else that might come up. As long as it’s you, I won’t mind anything.”

Suguru searches his face for a long moment, fearing to see any traces of doubt but there’s only conviction and love in Satoru’s eyes.

And so there is only one answer Suguru can give.

“Okay.”

[5sosfanfictioncatalogue]

AU Fics (2) Masterlist

part one, part three

a kingdom of hearts (but not of love) (ao3) - orphan_account luke/ashton M, 12k

Summary: luke's a prince. well, a prince who loves to wear dresses and loves girly things. however, he feels though he's missing that special someone in his life. although it may just change when he meets a special prince named ashton.

or the one where luke's basically a princess, ashton is his soulmate, and things get in their fucking way before they fall in love.

and what if you'd never smiled at me (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 14k

Summary: He opens up the loaf from the cut, exposing the pale inside that was previously encased by the dark crust. He wonders if you were to split people open whether they would match their appearance; he worries that his own exterior might be a little too much like the hard crust of his sourdough. Not Luke though. He’s pretty sure people like Luke are as soft and golden on the inside as they are on the outside.

x

Calum's really not happy about the new bakery that's just opened up down the road from his own bakery; it's gaudy and pastel and covered in flowers and is an offence to the name of baking. At least he's got a new regular to make him feel better about it all. One with a smile that can turn a day around just like that, even on a Tuesday.

angels choking on their halos (ao3) - aliciaxadrienne michael/ashton M, 10k

Summary: Fame and notoriety mean nothing when the dead are coming back to life. Or; the zombie apocalypse happens at the worst possible time and things go haywire.

be your teenage dream tonight (ao3) - burningthefutures luke/ashton E, 8k

Summary: Ashton, a photographer living in NYC, finds himself entranced when he sets his eyes on Luke Hemmings, a famous model, at a party.

can't help falling in love with you (ao3) - prettyluke (parting_ways) luke/ashton T, 50k

Summary: Luke shows up in Britain after 25 years right in time for World War Two to start, and Ashton has been waiting for someone to yank him from his melancholy since Christmas of 1914.

come alive and bring the thunder (ao3) - merlypops michael/luke, past luke/ashton E, 36k

Summary: Prince Luke of the Faeries is forced to marry King Michael after a War between kingdoms threatens to tear their lives apart... and maybe Luke and Michael fall in love too. Maybe.

delete this transmission (ao3) - horriblekids michael/ashton, luke/calum M, 67k

Summary: “Yeah,” he says, catching sight of his reflection in the dimly reflective surface and running fingers through his hair to fluff it up. And instead of getting on the mag-train home like he wants to, he catches the northbound train to the greenlawn with Calum. “You know, I think I might not go through with it,” he tells his best friend, meaning his activation. They sit together across from the back doors of the car and watch the adverts for an upcoming showing of ‘Titanic’ at the interactive theater. While Calum sits beside him silently he gnaws on a thumbnail and wonders whether it’s too late to get his money back.

“You can’t go back on it now,” Calum tells him.

And it’s true: His payment has already been processed, the credits removed from his profile. The invoice showed up in his e-net overnight and he’d added it to his encrypted folder. “It’s just - weird,” he says, weighing each of the words on his tongue before he speaks. “To be in charge of another person like that. I don’t want that responsibility.”

'Do You Believe in Miracles?' (ao3) - The_Lady michael/luke E, 83k

Summary: Michael Clifford gets things done. When he wants something, he goes after it until he achieves it. With two Frozen Four championships under his belt and a hockey scholarship to one of the best schools in the country, Michael is not used to being beat, but if hockey has taught him anything, it's how to recognize when he's about to get slammed and his public speaking class? That is barring down on him like two-hundred-pound defensemen during a breakaway,, so he may need to swallow his pride.

An opportunity of a lifetime dangles in front of Luke Hemmings – the role of Jack O'Callahan in limited series about hockey's 'Miracle on Ice' – the only problem is that Luke may have exaggerated his own hockey prowess in his initial audition. Now with a callback on the books, he needs to learn to skate and learn fast.

Heartache in the Director's Chair (ao3) - Emmybazy luke/calum T, 19k

Summary: Calum wants to make it as an actor. His world gets turned upside down when Ashton Irwin, the executive producer, casts him to play the lead in a movie with the famous actor, Michael Clifford directed by Hollywoods golden boy director, Luke Hemmings. Luke Hemmings' reputation of being cool, calm, and collected precedes him, so why is he treating Calum so oddly?

Or; Luke is smitten by Calum and Calum is oblivious. They make a movie.

It's a hell of a feeling though (ao3) - thenewbrokenscene michael/luke M, 58k

Summary: [AU, actor/model Luke and musician Michael]

After a recent scandal and the subsequent publicity nightmare, Luke Hemmings doesn't need any more trouble. He's just trying to enjoy his best friend's birthday party. But who the fuck invited Michael Clifford?

It was always you (ao3) - CliffordAffliction luke/calum, michael/ashton E, 48k

Summary: Everyone wants Calum Hood and Luke can have him just as long as it’s on Calum’s terms. Thing’s take a turn for the worst when Luke begins to push Calum away, fed up with the way he treats him, and Calum begins to realize how much he really needs Luke in his life after all.

let me love you - @sup3rbloom (haveufoundwhaturlookingfor) luke/ashton T, 10k

Summary: Luke Hemmings is a rockstar with a troubled past. He's struggling with an alcohol addiction and a career that's going downhill, but Calum isn't giving up on him. Calum suggests Luke a fake boyfriend to help keep the bad press away. That's where Ashton comes in, Ashton who is an embodiment of sunshine. Luke's hesitant due to his failed past relationships, but he agrees, because he knows this is what he needs to save his career.

Lost Hearts (ao3) - CliffordAffliction ot4 E, 177k

Summary: Ashton, Luke, Calum and Michael live in four different worlds in high school and each one of them is in love with someone who loves someone else. This can't possibly end well...or can it?

Roses Are Red (ao3) - mukeclemmings luke/calum, minor michael/ashton T, 5k

Summary: Ashton and Luke open a flower shop next door to a tattoo parlor, and relationships blossom (quite literally).

Somewhere in Neverland (ao3) - HeartnArrow luke/ashton N/R, 51k

Summary: high school lashton au where best friends, ashton and luke hook up at a party and everything changes.

Stand Again (ao3) - crash-queen aka stelleshine (stelleshine) luke/calum, michael/luke, jack/luke, michael/ashton E, 69k

Summary: The promise of a good pie brings Calum into Luke’s bakery one day, and Luke finds more than just a new customer.

the flatmate arrangement (ao3) - kaleidoscopeminds luke/calum T, 20k

Summary: Hi Calum/Poor Struggling Paralegal,   So I’ll be upfront with you. It’s a one-bed flat. I also live here. HOWEVER before you delete this and think I’m a freak, I work nights so I wouldn’t be here anytime you would be. You can have the flat exclusively from 6 pm to 8 am, Saturday night and all day Sunday. Understand this sounds like a bit of a crazy arrangement but I could do with the cash, let me know what you think?

Luke Hemmings (Poor Struggling Children’s Nurse)

A 'The Flatshare' AU

Trapped Under Your Spell (ao3) - mariawritesstuff (orphan_account) luke/calum N/R, 26k

Summary: Calum opens his eyes and grins. From where he is, he can see Luke smiling down at him. The sun is shining from behind Luke’s head and from Calum’s position it kind of looks like Luke himself is the sun. Calum is momentarily stunned.

Or, A Hogwarts Cake AU where the boys are the boys and feelings are caught/have been there all along.

[blue-eyed-bloodstains]

01. where would you love to go to college? what kind of college is it? I’ve ultimately wanted to go to Full Sail University since my senior year (2010) and I even did the research and had a rep from there who came to NJ to present at our high school about it come to my house for an interview about it...even had roommates set up, a scholarship of $20k, the works. but it all fell apart and I couldn’t go, both by not having the means at the time due to moving around from family drama and there was no way to get there or afford to live off campus since they didn’t have dorms on campus. it’s a media school in the top 5 in the US and I wanted to pursue being a music producer if I went...

I also before that guy came senior year, always wanted to go to NYU for journalism/songwriting. I went to my local community college for Journalism and Public Speaking In Media for a bachelors, using my scholarship but I only completed one semester and had to move...so I never completed college and I lost the majority of that scholarship cause it expired...big regrets, I’d give anything to get a degree preferably online... 02. is there anywhere you’d love to go, but you wouldn’t go due to things there (people, natural disasters, etc.)? isn’t that basically the entire fuckin world at this point..? anywhere you go, there’s shit going down so it would be scary to go to any of the places I’ve always wanted to travel to and experience 03. do you know anyone who has/had swine? who? ...okay, meaning like owned pigs or had the swine flu? lol no not personally but there’s a lot of farmland here with many different animals so I’m sure someone has a bunch of hogs and piggies fenced in :P 04. do you like polaroid photography? yeah, would love to learn how to take amazing photos like that

05. did you ever watch that old nick show, ginger? As Told By Ginger! hell yeah, loved it! 06. is there a friend of yours who curses nonstop? who would that be? pssh myself more than anyone, literally barely can make a simple sentence about the most random small talk without cursing to some degree XD 07. don’t you hate when you put lyrics as a status and everyone comments it asking what it means / why it’s your status? I hate that they can’t relate to them or understand that it’s me crying out pretty much...I post lyrics or sayings/phrases all the time relating to my mental illnesses, emotions, physical illnesses...and I’m still alone with it all. 08. what internet browser do you use? Chrome or Firefox 09. what do you usually do to let your feelings out? listen to music, cry, DRINK TILL I BLACK OUT AND AM NUMB...

10. what was the last thing you uploaded / plugged into the computer? oh god no idea, I fucked up my small USB flash drive so it can’t recognize it when I plug it in...and my cd tray, the cover where you press the button to have it pop out snapped off so now I don’t know how to get it to pop out so I can play movies..and yes, both were from me black out drunk and the laptop sliding off me to the floor. 11. what is your last class of the day? I’m not in school 12. who do you think has your back more: your girl friends or your guy friends? guy friends for sure, I’ve always tended to be closer with guys than girls. being a hardcore tomboy all my life helps lol 13. do you think boys notice things more than girls? or vice versa? it’s hard to say cause everyone’s different, so I hate putting them into a statistic or stereotype. I’d say it’s pretty even for both 14. are you participating in project 365 (you take a picture of you/something everyday of the year and post it)? I’d love to try but not enough things I can post...I’m constantly home with nowhere to go and it’s very hard to be out and about for more than a short time given physical illness weakening me for years so no 15. do you have a flickr? if so, post the link. oh DEAR FUCKING GOD I completely forgot about Flickr! lol no I don’t and never did 16. am i the only one who would go to the ends of the earth to see their favorite band perform? I don’t know you so I mean, I can’t say for sure..but I’ve got several bands and comedians in mind that I would personally 17. do you think it’s dumb when a band smashes their instruments, or do you find it totally radical? meh I don’t really care

18. have you ever made a gif? if not, do you think it’d be interesting to make one? yeah I’ve always been interested in how to do it and I’d go insane making so many once I knew how to lol 19. are you excited for the beginning of american idol? no I haven’t watched for years..last one I saw win was around Jordin Sparks/Adam Lambert/David Cook seasons...I love watching the terrible auditions on youtube though lol 20. do you feel like you need some inspiration, or are you totally inspired right now? I definitely need inspiration... 21. when you feel uninspired, do you feel like you need to go somewhere to become inspired? definitely but rarely get the chance to 22. do you like driving games, or not so much? yeah 23. do you have trouble coming up with good surveys questions? I’ve never made em, I love taking good ones I find

[wolfvmin]

does it hurt?

title: does it hurt? pairing: pierced!jungkook x injured!reader genre: just fluff, a little angst, high school, wc: 1,627 warnings: awkward hugging, oc is awkward, jungkook is kinda weird, one mention of cancer, unedited again (come on i don't even edit my essays) note: adapted from this manhwa bc i can't stop seeing jungkook as the main lead. also i miss jungkook's piercings so here we go.

summary: in which you ask the infamous jeon jungkook if his piercings hurt when you accidentally touched them.

While everyone saw Jeon Jungkook as a social reject and a good-for-nothing student, you saw him as a mystery.

He was hanging around with the wrong crowd, they were known for getting wasted and high at the back of the school. He had multiple piercings in his ear, a steel rod on his brow, and a lip ring on his ridiculously plush red lips for someone who smoked a lot. Everybody knows he was dangerously beautiful. But it was the rumors that kept him meters away from everyone.

Although in the same year, you never crossed paths with Jungkook. You were too busy perfecting your records, making sure that you get to go to college on an athletic scholarship.

That was until junior year.

You have been stuck in a cast for a week now, having to use crutches as you walk. There has been an accident that included falling and breaking your leg that left you in this situation. You were scared and angry that it would affect your life plans but what can you do? Nothing. It’s better not to be focused on your emotions and just carry on.

That would be easy to do if it weren’t such a pain having to fucking walk home from the hospital.

Sighing, you decide to take a breather and sit down on one of the benches in the garden.

You plop down your body on the wooden bench with a groan and gather your crutches together on your side, making them lean on the bench. Thankfully, the weather was nice. It was cloudy and the wind was cool. The blazer of your school uniform wasn’t too hot to be in like some days. Still, maybe you should’ve brought spare clothes for the check-up.

There weren’t many patients or visitors hanging around either. Needless to say, it was a good idea to sit down before having to walk around with barely working legs.

You rest your back, tilting your head upwards to the sky with your eyes closed. You take a deep breath, taking in the fresh air provided by the nature around you.

Ah. This is so—

“You go to Hybe High?”

Your eyes snap open when something blocks the sunlight seeping through your eyelids. The action reveals an upside-down face just a few inches away from yours, making your eyes widen in shock. Still, you were unable to move away, suddenly scared and reminded of the rumors about the boy in front of you.

The face was too familiar for you not to know who he is. Jeon Jungkook, you weren’t in the same classes with him but he was currently in the same year with you as he was held back once.

From afar, his face and ears were covered with multiple piercings, making him look intimidating and tough. And he was exactly that. You heard of him hanging out with the boys who wanted nothing to do with learning. They would skip classes and hang around smoking at the back of buildings and if not, they’d jump over walls to get out of the campus and spend time somewhere more fun.

They exude fear and respect from everyone they walk past. But behind them, people were laughing, saying they were too troubled and stupid for high school. In short, they don’t really have the best reputation on campus.

But looking at him closely as his face is over yours, you realize how pretty and big his eyes are. Beneath all the steel adorning his face, he was actually adorable. In fact, if he didn’t have all that piercing, he would probably be famous for being a pretty boy.

There was still something so attractive with the way the piercings complemented his face. He still looked pretty, but way cooler.

At that moment, you realized how beautiful Jeon Jungkook is.

“Hey!” He scolds.

You snap back to reality when he snaps his fingers in front of your face. Embarrassed for zoning out while staring at his face, you scoot away from him in a swift motion.

You land on the other side of the bench, cheeks blushing and eyes avoiding his gaze as you sit down with your back as straight as your hands on your lap.

“I am. From Hybe.” You answer finally.

“Hm.” That’s all he reacts.

When you gain the courage to look at him again, he was still behind the bench with his hands inside his pockets. He stands leaning on one foot, giving you a sly smirk as he back stares at you.

How is he so attractive?

You watch as he walks over and sits beside you. Since your crutches were at the other edge of the bench, the only space was the middle part where you previously sat. He sits there with a sigh and then turns to look at you. “You’re that Taekwondo girl that fell from the second floor, right?” He asks.

You don’t answer the question, thinking it was pretty obvious anyway. Plus, you don’t know why but you feel nervous around this boy.

“Hm. I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.” He sighs again and rubs his thighs with his palms.

You just stare at him again. He has sighed two times now and he looks a bit anxious but is trying to hide it. What was he doing here anyway?

“You can ask.” He suddenly speaks. In contrast to his smirk earlier, he gives you well-meaning smile. He crosses his arms on his chest.

“What?” You ask, confused about what he was going for.

“You can ask why I’m here.” He repeats with an explanation this time.

“Okay, why are you here?” You hesitate, wondering if you really can even if he has given you permission. You didn’t really want to pry especially since this is the first time you’ve talked to him. But you do so anyway.

“My grandma. She’s being confined here. They suspect it’s cancer.” He says like it’s no big deal.

You take a moment before you react. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

He takes a deep breath and releases with a loud “Aaah. Don’t be.”

There was silence in the air for a few minutes. You don’t dare to speak because you don’t even know how to comfort him or if you even have to. Does he want that?

You were still thinking about your next move when a head plops on your shoulder. All the goosebumps rise from your body as you can hear Jungkook’s breathing in close proximity.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbles. “Can I hug you? You can say no.”

There was vulnerability with him that you hadn’t heard of before and you ask yourself why you have to be the one here to witness it. As you look at him closely, you see how his forehead was crunched even with his eyes closed. He looked tired and distressed. With that, you had already made up your mind.

Besides, you kind of need a hug too.

“Yeah.” You respond.

As soon as you say it, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, the same hand from that arm reaching and resting your other shoulder. His face was now beside your head and you can hear his breathing by your ear. His other arm was just limply laying on his side.

It wasn’t really the hug you expected, but you guess that as long as it works for him it’s fine. It wasn’t uncomfortable to you anyway.

“Thank you.” He mumbles again.

“Am I doing a good job at comforting you?” You tease. You can’t believe yourself. Are you really joking around with The Jeon Jungkook?

He chuckles and you can feel it on your neck. “You could do a little bit better.” He teases back.

His other hand reaches for yours which was still on your lap. His hand stops mid-air, not really touching your hand. “May I?”

You weren’t really sure what he was asking for but you nod anyway.

He grapes your right hand in his and brings it over to the side of his face. “This would be better.” He whispers in a low voice and makes your hand caress his face.

You let it happen.

He was a stranger just fifteen minutes ago–just a man from the whispers you’ve heard in the classroom halls. Now, he has his arm wrapped around you in a side hug as you caress his hair and face with your hand in an attempt to comfort him.

When your fingers brush over a slight cold apparatus on his ear, you flinch.

“Oh, sorry. Was that your piercing? Does it hurt?” You ask, now looking at his face again.

His hand flies to your hand again, holding it in place. His thumb caresses your palm.

“It’s fine.” He assures you.

He lets go of your hand and leaves it hanging by his face. Then, he turns his face and shows you his ear. After that, he begins playing with the silver earring on the upper part of his ear. If you weren’t wrong, it’s called the helix or orbital, whichever is lower.

He pushes the earring from behind with his thumb and presses it back with his forefinger, you could see the tiny rod from this action. You smile, finding it cute as he shows it to you enthusiastically.

“See? It doesn’t hurt at all.”

He gets your hand again and places it back on him.

“So you can keep on going. It feels nice.” And so you did.

The two of you sat there quietly, letting the newfound warmth speak for itself.

And that was your first encounter with Jeon Jungkook, someone who would then become an equation in your life that you can’t just solve.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you. 𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪 : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form.

[rafescoke]

All I Ask ; Rafe Cameron (Part 2)

masterlist

#Part 2

#Part 1

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x reader

Summary: Reader finds herself in the arms of her best friend’s brother after finding her boyfriend cheating on her

Warnings: Swearing, cheating, hella angst, JJ being an extreme asshole

A/N: you guys are truly amazing. thank you so much for the countless amount of love & support for my last works, i love you! 

p.s, my request box is always open! go ahead and drop any ideas bae

“Hey,” he said softly. “You’re okay?”

(Y/N) emitted a laugh, her eyes focusing on the road, but her mind was somewhere else. She cleared her throat, “Um, I don’t think so.”

“Want to talk about it?” he said, and she noticed the grogginess behind his voice. She felt bad now, knowing that she had woken him up, but she was desperate for someone.

She couldn’t go to the pogues; her only friends, not when they knew. They knew all along about Kie and JJ but they didn’t try to talk to her. She thought about Pope, how he had looked so nervous around her since a month ago and how she had thought of it as nothing more than anxiety for his new upcoming scholarship application.

(Y/N) groaned, tightening her fingers around the steering wheel. Why had she been so naive? Why couldn’t she realize the signs sooner?

“Are you okay?” Rafe asked, suddenly jolting up from his bed when he realized how quiet she has gotten. Ever since they got close 4 years ago, there was never a long silence between them as (Y/N) always has a random topic to discuss about. He would tell her that he doesn’t care, but he truly likes the new information she’ll give him.

Like how the word ‘who’ is the oldest English word in the world. 

“Like, the owl?” he asked, scrunching his face. (Y/N) rolled her eyes, licking the slowly melting ice cream, and Rafe had a sudden thought of stealing her snack.

“No. God, you’re stupid. It’s who.”

“Yeah, the owl,” he grunted, thinking hard. (Y/N) looked at him with her bored eyes again, and Rafe took a quick glance at the dripping ice cream.

“No, Rafe, that’s woo. I’m talking about who.”

“You should write it.”

Rafe watched as she used her pointer to write the word ‘who’ on the table using her ice cream. Rafe laughed, finally understanding the joke, and he smiled wider when she returned a grin.

“No,” her voice croaked, and she could feel her tears slowly rolling down her red cheeks. God, she felt stupid. Why would she cry over stupid stuff like this? She had told Rafe before that she couldn’t understand why Bella Swan was too sad over Edward’s flight, saying how Bella had Jacob all along to help her get over him. Rafe rolled his eyes at this statement, muttering something along the words of ‘this is a movie’, ‘Edward is hotter’, and ‘Jacob look like that cashier guy at the hardware store’.

But she understood everything clearly now because she too, felt like staying in her room for the rest of her life. 

“What happened? Do you need me to pick you up?” Rafe asked again, finally standing up from his bed and walking towards his bedside table to retrieve his car keys. He rubbed his eyes, still so tired, but he wanted to make sure she was safe.

“It’s alright, Rafe, you don’t have to pick me up, it’s just, um-” she took a deep breath, “Can I come over?”

Rafe stopped in his tracks, not sure if he had heard her right. He waited for a few seconds, “Huh?”

“Can I come over?” (Y/N) bit her lips, making a turn towards the road heading to Figure 8 from the Cut. The road was deserted, and she looked at the dashboard to check on the time.

2.43 a.m.

“Yeah, sure, um, when are you coming? I just have to wait for you, so you know the new passcode of the backdoor.”

“You guys changed it already?” she asked, and she was surprised to find a smile creeping onto her face. “When was the last time I came over? 2 months ago?”

“9,” Rafe muttered, “But it’s okay. I’ll wait for you, okay?”

“Okay,” she released a breath, “Thank you, Rafe.”

“Yeah,” was all he said before ending the line.

Maybe she did missed him. 

When she arrived before the white building of the Camerons’ household, she could see a figure sitting on the front porch, bending over something that (Y/N) assumed to be a phone.

Rafe was mindlessly playing Candy Crush, just starting on his third level when he heard a car door being shut. He jumped to his feet, ready to greet the girl, but stopped in his tracks when he saw the state of her.

She was still in her party clothes, her (H/C) hair in a messy ponytail and her makeup all smudged. He tried to think of a joke, wanting to lighten up the mood, but his deed was interrupted when she finally had him in a tight hug.

“Whoa,” Rafe exclaimed, putting his arms around her waist. He let her stayed in that position for a few more seconds, liking the warmth, and finally parted after he cleared his throat.

“What’s wrong?”

“I, um-” she sighed, not looking into his eyes. “I got cheated on.”

Rafe was glued to his spot as he watched her wiped her tears with her sleeve, looking down to her glittery blue slippers. He couldn’t remember the amount of times he had prayed for his (Y/N) and JJ to call it off, but he didn’t hope for any kind of cheating to occur.

“I’m so sorry,” Rafe said, pulling her into a hug again. He rested his chin against the top of her head, letting the scent of strawberry wafted into his nostrils. (Y/N) cried against his chest, her face all scrunched up, and when she pulled away for the second time, she noticed the tear stains on his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she rushed, trying to remove the stain using her fingers even though she knew it was impossible. She was too tired to think logically; she felt like laying in bed and watching Love Island until the day she dies.

“You’re still stupid, even when you’re all fucked up,” Rafe sighed, but he watched her from the corners of his eyes in case his words had struck her, but she looked like she understood the joke. She smiled weakly, pulling on the hem of her dress that had rode up down.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up,” he said, pulling her by her wrist as he guided her through the backdoor to his room. He showed her the new passcode proudly, mouthing how it was his birthday date this time, and (Y/N) had emitted a small laugh.

Screw maybe, she did missed him.

“And still a mess,” she sighed, plopping onto Rafe’s blue bedsheet as she took a look around the room. The painting of a random boat in the middle of an ocean was still askewed, and his trash can were piling up. She made a face, pointing at the cause of disturbance.

“You have to clean that.”

“Sorry I couldn’t let you stay in our five stars suite, ma’am,” he said, finding an old t-shirt in his cupboard. “You know, since you barged in this hotel at this time, all there’s left is the 3 stars suite.”

“You’re calling this a 3 stars suite?” she laughed, tilting her head to one side. “Rafe, this room can’t even be rated.”

“Whatever,” he pulled out a yellow t-shirt, putting it aside before looking for a new pair of boxers. “Is your room still pink with that weird strawberry pound cake smell?”

“Yeah,” she laughed, crossing her legs. She was glad there were no crumbs on the bed, or else she would rather sleep in her car. “And that smell’s great. My sensory organs are blocked by all the dust you’re collecting in here.”

Rafe grinned, liking how she was back to her old self, and handed her the pair of boxers and the yellow t-shirt. (Y/N) muttered a quick thanks, her feet lightly padding against the carpeted floor towards his bathroom. She closed the door, leaning against the sink, watching her reflection in the mirror.

She did look miserable, and her eyes were all red and puffy. She always hate how puffy her eyes would get after a nice session of crying, having to endure the pain of soothing it down again. 

She shook her head, not wanting to spend anymore time thinking about JJ or Kie or the pogues who had betrayed her, and tried to reach for the zip of her dress. After a few good tries she sighed, relaxing her cramped arms. The familiar yet uneasy pain coursed through her veins, and without wanting to abuse herself anymore, she turned the doorknob.

“Rafe? Can you help me?”

“Huh? Yeah,” he came to the door, closing his eyes before he halted right in front of the object. “Are you naked?”

“No, can’t seem to be, too. Can you help me unzip?”

Rafe opened his eyes, feeling his heartbeat quickening, and with trembling hands, slowly unzipped her dress and stopping directly at the curve of her bottoms, silently admiring the view. 

He cleared his throat, shaking his head at the childish behaviour he just found himself in. “Yeah, done.”

“Thanks, Rafe,” she smiled, and turned to close the door again. Rafe listened to her breathing in the bathroom for a few more seconds, knowing how hard she was trying to ignore the aching feeling eating off of her. He wished he could take her pain away an make it his, knowing that at least he’ll have an excuse to snort more coke to ‘forget the pain’. 

When she got out of the bathroom, Rafe had to stop himself from drooling over her in his shirt and boxers. She always look good, but she had never looked better in nothing but his yellow shirt and his boxers. 

Rafe closed the light, remembering how she hates sleeping with any form of light either it’s tiny or big, and settled himself on the sofa. He wanted to give her space, not wanting to rush anything, knowing how tired she must felt from all the things she had to endure today.

“Rafe, we’re not 10. You can sleep on the same bed as I am,” she sighed, turning to face the other side. Rafe stood up, thanking the gods above, and settled for his new room.

“We never sleep in the same bed before,” he said, pulling the covers to shield himself from the cold. (Y/N) snorted at this statement, still not looking at him or even turning to face him.

The closest thing they have done to sleep right next to each other was in the car during a road trip, and when they woke up, they were both throwing disgusted faces and pretending to vomit.

“Stop it, you guys look stupid,” Sarah groaned, giving them a quick look over her shoulder. Rafe pulled his middle finger from under the blanket he was sharing with (Y/N), causing her to snort and struggling to hide her laugh.

. . .

“So yeah, that’s how you hit it.”

“You’re bluffing,” (Y/N) rolled her eyes, taking over the club and watching the small hole in the distance, squinting her eyes. She took a step back, licked her teeth, and gave Topper the club back.

“See? I told you I’m right!” he exclaimed happily, clasping his hands together. He returned to the game, focusing on his goal, and hit the golf ball.

“That’s fine, I guess,” (Y/N) announced when he came back to the resting area, “For beginners.”

Rafe snorted, downing his mineral water before handing Topper the same bottle. Topper grunted at him, muttering how it’s unhygienic, but he took a full swing of it anyways, being so thirsty after sitting under the sun for hours long.

“We’re glad you’re back with us, (Y/N),” Topper smiled, removing his cap and fanning himself with the clothing. He opened his mouth to say something, but when he looked at Rafe’s expression, he quickly shut his mouth.

He wanted to ask her if she ever missed their old clique when she was with the pogues, but Rafe knew better. It had been 3 weeks since the incidence, and she had been doing so well in coping with the situation. They had been inseparable ever since, always attached to the hips everywhere they go; he couldn’t let one tiny mistake slip that can cause her another breakdown.

“Hey,” Kelce jogged to them, smiling apologetically at Rafe and Topper before placing a quick kiss on (Y/N) ‘s cheeks. (Y/N) smiled, knowing how sweet and gentle Kelce is, almost glad he still does the same thing to her even after they had not been hanging out for a year.

“You’re not dressed for the occasion,” Topper rolled his eyes, “And late. We’re already packing up, man.”

“I know, but I’m wondering if you guys would like to listen to Cage The Elephant this evening by the beach,” he explained, still heaving from his previous activity. He had drove straight from his home to the country club after getting 4 tickets to the show, excited to show his friends what he had gotten for her.

(Y/N) snorted, throwing her arms into the air. “Fuck off, Kelce. There’s no way they’re coming down to Obx.”

Kelce sighed, taking out his phone before showing her the proof in his photos. (Y/N) grinned, trying to contain herself, and looked at Rafe who seemed to be smiling as well.

“Thanks, Kelce,” she laughed, pulling him into a hug. They made her happy, and all the negative thoughts she had about them during her brief friendship with the pogues suddenly evaporating into the air. She squealed, jumping wildly, and she swore she has never felt this happy before.

Just them four. Like the old times.

Four hours later, (Y/N) took a step back when they arrived at the beach, the memory of what happened three weeks ago suddenly rewinding in her head. Rafe noticed how quiet she had been, and pulled her aside while Topper and Kelce went to check on the stage.

“Are you okay?”

(Y/N) bit her lips, nodding. She ran her fingers over the penguin charm Rafe had gotten her a week prior, saying how it resembles him when he sees her. (Y/N) rolled her eyes at him during that surprising moment, touched yet confused at the story behind the penguin charm.

“Okay. Do you need a drink?” he asked again, staring into her eyes. She shook her head, wetting her lips and putting on her usual smile. Rafe grinned at her, muttering how she’s doing so good, all while guiding her towards their two other friends.

“(Y/N)?”

(Y/N) turned to look at the source, not thinking much. She almost fell to the ground when she saw the person responsible, but Rafe still had his arms around her. He turned to check on her again, but followed her gaze when he noticed she was staring at the opposite direction.

“What the fuck?” Rafe yelled, pushing JJ’s chest with so much anger that he toppled over to John B. Sarah yelped, pulling Kie to her side, watching as her brother walked towards them furiously. 

“Chill, man, I just want to talk to her,” he said, taking a deep breath. He noticed the crowd starting to notice them, and his eyes landed on a certain girl who was held up by Topper and Kelce, both asking if she was okay.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Rafe said, his eyes stern as he stared over JJ and his group of friends. “You have nothing to say to her.”

As he turned to return to his friends, his chest heaving from the near-fight he almost encounter with JJ, he bended to (Y/N)’s height to check on her state. Her eyes were glassy, her face red.

“So you’re fucking them all now like a whore?” JJ shouted, loud enough for everyone else around them to gasp, and some already had their phones out. (Y/N) was shocked at this statement, frozen on her feet, not knowing what on earth would make JJ say that to her.

He was never mean to her, even when they had a fight. He yelled at her sometimes, sure, but she had been the one yelling first. He never called her anything of that sort, not even during sex, where she had given him her full consent.

“You’re crazy,” she muttered, her lips trembling. “Go to hell.”

“No, no, because it has always been easy for you, right? You broke up with me, got on with Rafe, leave your own friends and come back to the country clubs?” he laughed, and she flinched at his words. If JJ had meant the pogues as her friends, then he was totally wrong.

“Fuck off, pogue,” Topper stepped out, and before he could finish his sentence, JJ landed a full punch on his face, causing him to fall onto the ground with a thud.

(Y/N) screamed, getting to his side as Rafe returned JJ’s gesture. Topper laid on the ground with his nose starting to bleed, causing (Y/N) to panic while she rummaged through Rafe’s backpack he had left on the ground for clean tissues.

Topper groaned, keep wanting to get up, but (Y/N) held him in place, not letting her friend go and hurt himself more just for her. She cried while she tried to wipe the blood, hearing the fight behind her.

“Fuck you! You stupid pogue! You should be in jail like your dad!”

Something cracked in JJ as he yelled something back in pure anger. He punched, kicked, slapped and hit Rafe who was already on the ground, spitting blood.

“JJ! That’s enough,” Pope pulled him back, trying to contain the wild animal as he thrashed to escape. He yelled more curses at Rafe while Pope tried his best to pull him away, obviously not done with hitting the boy laying on the ground.

(Y/N) cried, running towards Rafe’s side, cupping his face and looking into his swollen eyes. She groaned when Rafe’s laugh filled the air, not believing how he was still joking in a state like this.

“I’m okay,” he said, his breath ragged. “Don’t cry. I’m okay.”

Rafe stood up slowly and looked at the direction of the still thrasing JJ, hearing his muffled shouts with his arms around (Y/N) ‘s waist. He held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder, still trembling.

“Let’s go home?” he asked, and (Y/N) didn’t need to be told twice to follow him into his car. As disappointed as she was that she didn’t get the chance to see her favourite band, she wanted to take care of Rafe, who had been there since the day she found out about Kie and JJ.

The clock struck 12 in the morning and the grandfather clock in the living room chimed as Rafe groaned, feeling a certain girl with trembling hands and tired eyes gently wiping a cotton pad across his cut. 

“Fuck! I said slowly,” he grunted, closing his eyes to decrease the pain. (Y/N) bit her lips, trying to concentrate all the while trying to contain her laugh. He hissed again when she dabbed on his cut, this time with his fingers gripping tightly around her wrist.

“I said slowly.”

“I’m doing it slow, asshole,” she smiled, and felt him softened when she finally threw the last cotton pad. She pulled the covers to his chin, fixing the front part of hair before going to the bathroom to wash her hands. When she came back, she found him still awake with his eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

“I really need you to sleep,” she sighed, “To heal your pretty face.”

Rafe grinned and though (Y/N) tried her hardest not to smile back, she couldn’t deny the warm feeling settling in the pits of her stomach. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

There was no use denying it anymore.

“Yeah,” she shrugged, getting into the space beside him. “Even when you are all fucked up.”

(Y/N) could sense his smile even when she didn’t look at him, knowing how soft he usually end up being when she compliments him. She turned to look at him.

“Are you serious about not wanting a girlfriend?”

Rafe turned to look at her, his eyebrows raised. His insides exclaimed happily, liking the way his words had struck her. He meant what he said, but that statement didn’t apply to (Y/N). 

“Why?”

“Just asking,” she shrugged, and made a move to touch his cut. He hissed, feeling a sharp pain soaring in him, but she looked so peaceful trying to figure out his wound.

“You can kiss them to make them feel better,” he grinned, and watched as she groaned, trying to hide her face against the pillow. Rafe laughed, and turned the lamp beside him off, knowing that he shouldn’t push it and leave her be.

Just as he was about to drift into a peaceful sleep, he felt her soft lips against his, to which it was quick and gentle before she pulled away, giggling.

“4 years.”

“Huh?” (Y/N) questioned, still smiling from the kiss she just initiated a few seconds ago. She couldn’t contain herself; he looked so peaceful, so sweet, and so handsome. She didn’t know why she hadn’t kissed him sooner.

“I waited for that since 4 years ago.”

“Now you’re just pushing it, Rafe.”

Rafe grinned against the darkness, and felt his heart soaring. “Can we kiss again?”

“Tomorrow,” she stated, and Rafe laughed.

Tomorrrow. The next day. Next week. 

He didn’t care - as long as he will finally have her by his side. 

-

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[shootingstarwritings]

Wrestling With Some Feelings

Wrestling with some Feelings

“Wh-What are you doing…?" Ahmed moaned as a trail of slime slid into his singlet. Just the very touch caused his body to react with an eruption of pleasurable waves. He collapsed onto the locker room floor, slowly humping the floor to get any sort of friction on his hardening dick. "Haa… aahhhh...haaa…! This isn't… right." Ahmed bit down on his lip before letting down another desperate moan. So caught up in this invasive bliss that he didn't even care when the slimy creature squeezed itself into his leaking cock. Instead, he welcomed it. Thoughts of championships and the thrill of victory soon vanished beneath a blanket of ecstasy. "Ah! Ahhh! H-Holy fuck, I'm—!"

Ahmed wasn't able to finish as his body yielded to the enigmatic invader. His vision swam and he felt dizzy until he collapsed on a puddle of his precum. Ahmed's body convulsed on the ground, unable to even call for help, until he suddenly became rigid, back arched as if mid-orgasm. Then, he relaxed. Slowly, he rose from the ground and took a peek inside his wrestling singlet. "Damn kid, you got a sweet-ass body," he said, stretching his body and letting out a satisfying grunt as something popped. His more reserved personality and mannerisms were completely gone, as though it was someone else entirely. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna stay here forever. Just long enough to throw that match with Clay tonight. Can’t let my son lose that scholarship. You understand, right?” Adjusting his singlet again, the man in possession of Ahmed, Jerry, let out a sensual groan. “Ohhh, and maybe take advantage of this little body for a while. Not every day an old fart like me can be a young and sexy college stud for a few hours."

There was still time until the match, and considering how it would just be throwing the match to Clay, it wouldn’t take much effort. For now, Jerry could relax and enjoy what Ahmed's body had to offer. Grinning, he squeezed Ahmed's meat through the fabric and threw his head back in a low moan. "You're so lucky, being so sensitive. C'mon, let's get real acquainted."

Clay’s father had to struggle to keep his erection down as Clay seriously manhandled him the whole match. Each of Ahmed’s nerves seemed to be turbo-charged and Clay’s rough hands only seemed to aggravate that. With every slam and struggle—every time flesh met flesh with a flash of friction, Clay’s father found himself growing flushed. Didn’t even have to try that hard to throw, his over-horned body did the job for him.

Was it the spell or perhaps something more? Either way, soon Jerry found himself pinned to the mat with his son sneering down at him. The ref called the final point, and that was it. Jerry walked back to the locker rooms, ignoring the calls from his coach and friends. He couldn’t risk anyone catching on to his lack of disappointment.

To make sure the locker room would be empty, Jerry took an extremely long shower—checking his goods one last time before he would have to leave and return home to congratulate his son. Towel around his waist, he made his way over to the locker only to meet a meaty arm blocking his way. 

"Gotta say, kinda disappointed in your performance today, Ahmed," Clay said with a glare.

“Oh, Clay! Uh, wh-what can I say? Performance anxiety,” Jerry said, shrugging.

Clay tilted his head in confusion. “The hell’s happened to you? All jumpy and squirrely.” He took a step forward, cornering his father against the lockers. “You sick or something? Honestly looking real weird.”

Swallowing, Clay’s father said, “Um, I suppose you just have the magic touch,” he said, mind racing to come up with a lie that would be somewhat believable. “Body got all hot and cold with you manhandling me like that.” Jerry prayed that his face and ears weren’t turning as red as he thought they were.

Clay nodded to himself while squinting as if deciphering a difficult piece of text. "That so…?” Hoping that was enough, Jerry began to walk away. However, Clay slammed both of his arms against the lockers, pinning his father completely. “All you had to do was ask,” Clay whispered, his incredulous look turning into one of passion. Without a word, he leaned and kissed Jerry on his borrowed lips. Too shocked to even fight, Jerry leaned back and shut his eyes. What did this rush of passion mean? It was as if a dam had suddenly burst open.

Caught in this stream of passion, Jerry met Clay's kiss with equal aggression. It was as if he was possessed by whatever sentiments Ahmed had locked away deep inside of his subconscious. Either way, Jerry couldn’t even bother trying to resist the youthful hormones that danced in every inch of his hunky, borrowed body.

“Damn, you taste real fine,” said Clay, leaning away to stare at the giddy, bubbly mess that was Jerry. “Your lips feel so nice. Bet they’d be even better wrapped around my dick,” he said, slapping his thigh as he said so. Jerry glanced down and saw his son’s fully erect cock straining against the confines of the singlet. Wordlessly, he nodded and got down on his knees. The taste was so salty, but he didn’t mind it at all. Hearing his son’s pleasured moans and the cock threatening to unhinge Ahmed’s jaw was enough to get Jerry’s own dick hard.

“Make me see white,” Jerry breathed as he drew back with a pop. He spread his legs, trying to show as much of his ass he could. “Fuck me hard, Clay. I don’t think I can live without that cock inside of me once.”

“Say no more.” With a grunt of effort, Clay lifted Jerry up and placed him down onto one of the benches. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice and gentleman-y like.” Leaning up to steal another sensual kiss, Clay teased the rim of Ahmed’s hole with his cockhead. Jerry moaned and bit down on his lips. He took a few breaths, trying to relax, before just leaning back and staring up at the ceiling. "Hold on, relax," whispered Clay, using a finger to loosen him up. "Got some lube in my locker. Give me a sec."

“You have what?” Jerry exclaimed as Clay briefly walked off. “H-How often do you do this here.”

Once Clay returned, he just grinned and said, “Enough.”

Though Jerry wanted to continue asking his son, the finger that penetrated him had another idea. Jerry, nearly cross-eyed, immediately tightened as a reflex. He leaned back, moaning like a slut as Clay slipped in another finger. Then another. “F-Fuck, I-I’m fucking cumming!” Jerry shouted as his dick erupted with shot after shot of pent-up aggression.

“Damn, came from just fingering?” Clay grinned. “Hope you still got fuel in the tank, Ahmed. I still haven’t got a chance to shoot my shot.”

Breathing heavily, Jerry nodded as he spread his legs even further. Despite his climax abating, the sensual haze in his mind didn’t leave. Instead, he felt as though he could cum again and again that night. “I’m still not satisfied. Split me in half, Clay!” He moaned. Although the more logical part of Jerry's mind screamed and begged, he didn't give a shit. He just wanted this hunky hole filled and his son's cock was the one thing that could fix that.

Clay wasted no time. He spread Jerry as much as he cut and gave a slow, experimental thrust. When Jerry didn't scream, he slowly picked up the pace. "Mm, yeah. Nrgh, fuck yeah," he grunted with every thrust. There was no reason to go so quick that it would take away from the passion. As promised, he was gentle with strong, rhythmic thrusts. Jerry met each one with the same rhythm. Every nerve seemed to be on fire as Clay's cock filled him—as though Jerry was finally complete. With this body and this cock inside of him, he was reaching Nirvana.

After what seemed like a lifetime of pleasure, Jerry noticed Clay’s core tightening. His face was flushed and his body was covered in a sheen of sweat. “I’m—nggh—I’m gonna blow my load. Want me to cum inside?” Jerry quickly nodded. Clay grinned. “Good answer.” With renewed vigor, Clay continued plowing into Jerry as he babbled nonsense. “C’mon, Ahmed. Scream for me.” He said, slapping Ahmed’s quivering thighs.

“Oh my god,” said Jerry, covering his face to hide the tears. He was elated and embarrassed all at once. His own offspring was smashing him and all he could do was moan and allow it to happen. It had been years since he had sex this good, and he knew that Ahmed felt the same. No, for Ahmed it was even more intense. Somehow, Jerry understood that Ahmed had never had sex before. Now, at that moment, Jerry was losing his virginity for Ahmed. With that in mind, Jerry could feel his climax swiftly approaching.

“I'm gonna nut! I'm gonna—MMM!" Jerry stopped as Clay suddenly embraced him with a long, intense kiss. Unable to handle the heat and the passion any longer, Jerry climaxed. Both of their bodies became drenched in semen, but neither of them cared. All they wished was to taste as much of themselves in that kiss.

Sorry, Ahmed, thought Jerry, lemme just stay in this body for a little while longer. I’ll leave tomorrow in the morning. Promise.

[gguksgalaxy]

Stranded | JJK | E2L

Jungkook’s offer to help you study for your exam is unwelcome. His entire presence is unwelcome. You don’t want help from the guy who passes all his classes without even trying. It’s annoying — he is annoying. From the way he grins whenever he catches you staring at him, to the way his eyes shine whenever he smiles at you. Oh, and let’s not forget the way his tattoos shift when he stretches or the way his jawline sharpens when he’s focused. Nope, you definitely can’t stand him.

›› AU: Enemies to lovers, fuck/badboy!Jungkook ›› Genre: Fluff / Smut / Angst ›› Rating: NC-17 (explicit sexual content, 18+) ›› Pairing: JJK x Reader ›› Word Count: 13k ›› Jungkook Snuggle Drabbles. Warnings Include: A lot of swearing, heavy themes of miscommunication and strong judgements, Jungkook sleeps around a lot, university related stress, brief mention of past underage drinking, emotional and romantic angst, argument, the desecration of a mug.  Sexual content: Protected sex, blowjob, cunnilingus, face sitting/riding.

A/N: This one's for you @fallinforkoo I hope that you like it!! This is not something I would usually write but the idea popped up when seeing the request so here she is! A little cliché but I hope it's original enough. Let me know what you guys think!

“As your best friend,” Taehyung says sheepishly over the phone, “I really need you to do me a favour.”

You groan, leaning your head over the edge of the bed. “I don’t like where this is going.”

He hums. He doesn’t even laugh. There’s just a brief silence before he asks you the impossible. “I need you to invite Jungkook for the get-together on Friday.”

“Absolutely fucking not,” you spit. “Taehyung, my best friend, the platonic love of my life. I will do anything for you. Literally anything. I would suck your toes if you asked me, but I won’t do that.”

Now he laughs, loud and deep. It only makes you sulk more. Inviting Jeon Jungkook into your humble abode? To have him walk around with that smug—and delectably gorgeous—grin on his face as he finds something to make fun of? Not over your dead body. Not in a million years.

“Please, do it for me.”

You vigorously shake your head. “I don’t see how I would be doing you a favour by inviting him. You don’t even like him!”

“I mean...I really don’t mind him. But I like Jimin, a lot, and I feel bad for excluding his friend all the time, it’s starting to get weird. Can’t you just invite him over? I promise you won’t have to talk to him.”

Oh, but you do. Because Jungkook always manages to weasel under your skin and get you worked up to a point where you just have to say something. It’s not your fault that he’s such an ass. He just rubs you all the wrong ways. “I am in a constant state of wanting to rip his head off. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Jungkook is just so...You really cannot stand him. First of all, he doesn’t study. All he does is party and sleep around with random girls. Yet, he still somehow manages to be at the top of the class. Secondly, he’s a dick. He has no respect for both his elders and you. Any chance he gets he will make fun of you or blatantly insult you. And lastly, he looks too good and he knows it. Walking around campus just basking in the attention from all the girls, and guys, who want him despite his reputation.

Taehyung snorts. “If I were you, I would be more worried that you’re in a constant state of wanting to suck his dick.”

“I’d rather snap his dick in half.” Sometimes you wonder why you’re friends with Taehyung. After all, he’s the one who told Jimin to bring along his friend. Now, you’re regularly exposed to Jeon Jungkook’s incessant flirting with anything that breathes, constant whining about just about everything, and complete lack of personal space. Taehyung had been certain that if you got to know Jungkook outside of class, it would make you more amicable towards each other. However, it’s only made it worse.

“You know, sometimes people lie about something so often that they start to feel like it’s the truth.”

You roll your eyes, sitting up on the bed. It’s noon already. You really should be studying for your Psychology of Law exam. Also known as the course from hell. As a law student, you really can’t make sense of the material. All the mumbling about internal thought processes and stressors has your mind logging off. You’re chapters behind. You don’t even know where to start. Because unlike a certain someone, you actually have to study. Even with all-nighters, thorough summaries, and flashcards, you’ve still managed to fail quite a few classes. The future of your law degree literally balances on this one class. If you fail, you lose your scholarship.

“Are you still with me?”  Taehyung asks.

“Yeah, I’m just considering defenestrating myself. Anything better than studying for psych.”

“Even inviting Jungkook?”

“Anything but that.”  It’s not like Taehyung is completely wrong. Jungkook looks like a model when he actually decides to groom himself instead of showing up to class in sweats and uncombed hair. You’re way too aware that he works out five days a week. Or that he’s got tats lining his arm, intricate designs that—No. You’re not falling down this hole today.

Taehyung’s typing something up, probably studying for his own exams. “I will let you study then. Just please, invite him over. I will forever be in your debt. Be the better person.”

The sweet lining to Taehyung’s plea actually manages to work for once. He’s your best friend, after all. He would probably do the same thing for you. It’s just not that fun to be around Jungkook when part of you—as much as you may deny it—feels some type of way about him.

“I will consider it.”

“That’s not a no.”

“Don’t make me change it back to a no, Kim.”

He chuckles. “Someday, you will thank me. That day being the one when you finally come to terms with your feelings.”

“Bye, Taehyung,” you grumble, ending the call and throwing the phone down on the duvet.

So yes, maybe you do have a thing for Jungkook. Doesn’t make him any less annoying. If anything, it makes him even more insufferable. Why did you have to develop a weird crush on a guy you can’t even stand? The world doesn’t have to be cruel like that. But here you are. Not that it matters. Jungkook would sleep with just about any girl but you. Which says more about them.

Reluctantly, you get up and grab your books from your desk. Studying is easier in the living room, away from distractions.

Your peace doesn’t last long. Not even halfway through your first coffee, your doorbell rings.

Groaning, you get up and prepare your best ‘no I don’t want to buy whatever you’re selling’ face. Upon unlocking the door, that face falters.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you spit out the moment you see Jungkook’s big doe eyes. He’s standing on your doorstep like he’s supposed to be here. With his backpack nonchalantly slung over one shoulder.

He looks past you, into your apartment. “Oh, you started studying for psych?”

Your living room is a mess. “Well, I was trying to start, but I’ve been rudely interrupted by someone who has no invitation to be here.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m here to make sure that you don’t fail another class and have to drop out.” Like he owns the place, he pushes past you and waltzes inside. He drops his backpack and readjusts his baseball cap, showing off his forehead and chocolate brown hair. It’s really starting to get long.

“I don’t need your help.” There’s no way he’s here just to help you study. And even if he was, he’s just going to distract you. You’re not friends. He must have some ulterior motive for being here. Jeon Jungkook doesn’t study, let alone help people study. Not to your knowledge at least. “I can manage just fine on my own.”

He grabs his laptop from his bag. “What part of ‘having to drop out if you fail another class’ did you not understand?” He puts the device down and gets comfortable on your couch. As if he’s done it before.

You cross your arms over your chest. “Who told you about that?”

He shrugs. “Jimin mentioned it, he must have it from Taehyung. Does it really matter?”

“Yes, it matters,” you sneer. “I didn’t ask you to be here. I don’t want you to be here. There’s no way I’m going to get anything done with you around. Get the fuck out.” You point a finger at the door, waiting for him to leave. “Do you not hear me?”

“Oh, I heard you. I’m just waiting for you to get over yourself and realise that you actually need my help.”

“I don’t.”

“Can you tell me the difference between compliance and suggestion in the context of a police hearing?” he questions, leaning back and propping his clunky boot-clad feet onto the table.

You press your lips together in a thin line, thinking about a possible answer.

He grins. “Any idea what the Reid Technique is and why it is or isn’t ethical?”

“No,” you grumble.

“You know what the pros and cons are of an Oslo style eyewitness lineup?”

You shake your head, dropping your arms in defeat. He’s got you. You don’t know anything. Maybe you do need his help. As long as he tries to be nice, you can give him the benefit of the doubt. Another year of your degree is definitely worth it.

Jungkook pats the spot on the couch beside him. “Let’s get started, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover if we want to get you a good grade.”

And so you get to work. Jungkook makes himself a little too comfortable in your home. Aside from pulling out his flashcards, multiple summaries and annotated materials, he actually slips into the kitchen to make tea. He raids your pantry for snacks and pulls out your blanket from under the table.

“What?” He says, mouth stuffed with gummy bears while he unfolds the blanket. “I’m sorry, but your apartment is really fucking cold. Since you’re dressed as if you’re going to the North Pole, I assumed the radiator must be broken.”

“It has been almost a week now. My landlord is being an ass about it. Also, I’m wearing normal clothes that normal people wear when it’s cold outside. Unlike you, with your short-sleeves and thin coat.”

“It’s October.”

“It’s nine degrees outside. You’re insane.”

“No,” he says, sitting back down with the blanket around his shoulders. “I’m just hot.”

A reluctant smile pulls at your lips. Why must you betray yourself?

He leans in close, inspecting your face. “I can’t believe I lived to see the day. You actually smiled at one of my jokes.”

If he’s good at one thing, it’s definitely proving that he’s an annoying shit. “I’m laughing at how pathetic you are.”

“At least I’m not the one who tried to hide her smile.”

“And I’m not the one who forced his way into this apartment. I’d watch out, some people might start to think you actually like being around me.” You turn back towards his laptop, scrolling through the document to the next topic. Police hearings.

Jungkook puts his hand down behind you so he can get closer—too close—and look over your shoulder. “Maybe,” he whispers, “I do like spending time with you.”

You whip your head around so fast you nearly knock heads with him. He doesn’t move. Both your noses basically touching. At this proximity you can see all the fine details in his skin. The flecks of lighter brown in his eyes that really do shine. The moles on his nose, the scar on his cheek.

“Nah.” He pulls away. “I’m just messing with you. I still don’t like you.”

What on earth did you do to make him come over here? If he dislikes you so much, he shouldn’t have bothered. You’re not a charity case. “If you’d just let me fail, you wouldn’t have to put up with me again.”

He tuts. “Where’s the fun in that? I’d honestly miss your bad comebacks and petty remarks.”

“Excuse me, my comebacks are not bad?”

“They’re mediocre at best, ma’am,” he laughs, grin showing the fullness of his cheeks that make him look deceptively cute.

You shiver at the thought. He’s a lot of things, but he’s not cute. Yes, he’s probably a good guy deep down, but he’s not cute. Jeon Jungkook is and always will be an annoying, self-entitled, arrogant brat. Nothing is going to change your mind. Not even the way your heart beats faster from just having him so close.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me,” you bite.

“I’m not even going to give you any points for that. You didn’t even try!” He makes an exasperated gesture as he grabs another handful of gummies.

‘Childish’ should be added to the list. “Are you here to help me study or not?”

Jungkook nods, sitting cross-legged. “Just so I get to bother you for another year.”

The two of you get back to work. He takes you through a very detailed and too dramatic explanation of the Reid technique. You find yourself captivated by how passionate he seems. He sure does know a lot about the subject.

Jungkook turns out to be a very active talker. He makes very detailed descriptions and uses his hands to explain things. It’s easy to understand him, but it’s way harder to memorise it. As the material gets more complicated, he gets more serious and you start to lose track. His frown deepens, dimple-like creases appearing in his cheek that make him look sharper and older. You can’t help but stare.

He’s so handsome. The tattoos that circle around his left arm shift as he speaks. The same way that his earrings dangle as he moves. You get caught up in him, the way he talks, the passion that rolls off him in waves.

“Are you gawking at me?”  He says, stopping his movements mid-air.

Cheeks flushed, you try to come up with a smart reply. “I was thinking whether your head has always looked this big.”

His lips pull into a straight line. “I’m here trying to do my best to explain to you what the difference is between an Oslo confrontation and a sequential lineup, and you’re worried about the size of my fucking head?”

“I mean, it’s awfully big, no?”  You poke his forehead.

He grabs your wrist in return, pulling your body towards him. “Can you at least try to appreciate my effort?”

“I’m listening!”

Wetting his lips, he arches an eyebrow. “Explain the difference to me.”

Well, you weren’t listening that intently. “Uh, a sequential lineup has a lower chance of causing false positives.”

“That’s the last sentence I said, you can do better.” He lets go of you so you can lean back. For a second, he actually seems pissed off. Maybe you should try, he’s doing his best after all. It’s just hard when he’s here looking this good.

“Oslo confrontations feature the suspects in a lineup at the same time, whereas a sequential lineup shows them one by one.” That’s all you got.

“Well,” he says, throwing you a gummy from the bag. “You got one point out of five.”

Treat halfway to your mouth, you stop. “One?!”

He nods. “And I’m being generous with you. First of all, you cannot call them suspects, they’re candidates or possible suspects. There’s usually only one suspect and the rest are actors who look like the suspect. You also missed the part where, during the sequential lineup, the witness doesn’t get to see all the suspects. Once they pick the one they think is the perpetrator, they will not get to see the additional candidates.”  Why does this sound so hot when he says it?

God, you’re going insane. “Well, I’ll try to remember that and the seven-hundred other things you said. All the blabbering you do makes it really hard.”  It comes out harsher than you intended. From the way Jungkook stays silent, you know it must’ve hit home.

He gets up, making your heart sink. “I think it’s time for a break. You’re getting frustrated. Do you want to order pizza?”

“I don’t recall asking you to stay over for dinner.”

Jungkook takes a long, deep breath, closing his eyes. You can feel the anger build up. “Listen, I’m here to help you. The least you can do is fucking appreciate it. Be stubborn all you want, but you need this. You want a shot at this degree. I’m here, because as much as I can’t stand you, I won’t enjoy watching you get kicked off the entire program because you’re struggling with the material.”  There’s a heavy pause. You let his words sink in. The level of concern is surprising. It’s sweet. “So do you want to order pizza or not? Because I’m starving.”

You nod. “Pizza sounds good.”

The tension ebs away after that. Jungkook goes into the kitchen and comes back with a mug filled with milk, of all things. You bite your tongue.

“I want pineapple on my pizza,” he says.

Pausing, you raise your eyebrows. “You cannot be serious.”

“Depends. How much do you hate pineapple?” His shit eating grin returned like it was never gone. It gives him away.

Narrowing your eyes at him, you speak; “So, double pineapple for you?”

Suddenly, his face falters. “Whoa, you can’t actually do that to me.”

“You’re the one who said he likes pineapple!”

“It was a joke. No person in their right mind would put fruit on their pizza.”  He sits next to you, taking another sip of his milk. “I’m really not picky though, but the one with the jalapenos is good. Or the chili chicken.”  Jungkook scoots closer so he can scroll through the menu on your phone, hand brushing against yours.

This way, you get a clear view of the rose tattoo on his hand. It’s beautiful, detailed but still in a traditional style. It suits him, as do his other tattoos. Though this one has always stood out to you.

“I’m just going to get pepperoni,” you say after a while.

Jungkook sighs, then turns his head to whisper in your ear; “Boring.”

Startled, you shove him so hard he falls onto his back. “Don’t be such a child. I’m not going to make you eat it.”

When he sits back up, his shirt rises and reveals the edge of a narrow, toned waist. You look away, focusing on actually ordering the pizza. Jungkook really doesn’t have to be so casually attractive. He’s not even trying and you can’t keep your eyes off him, noticing something new every minute. A good reason to not spend any more time with him after this.

“Gimme.” He plucks your phone out of your hands so he can order his own pizza. With the utmost concentration, he scrolls and types in some things. No doubt using your pre-set credit card to pay for it. “Wait,” he says, sitting up straight. “Whoa, you’re friends with Yoongi? As in Min Yoongi? The guy who won this year’s mock court?”

Gasping, you dart over to grab the phone from him. “Don’t go through my messages!” With one hand on your chest, he manages to keep the device out of your reach. “Jungkook!”

His eyes move over the screen, reading your messages with the third year law student. “Why didn’t you just ask him for help, huh? He seems to like you, and that’s something. I don’t think Yoongi likes anybody.”

You try harder to grab your phone from his hands. It must look insane, your body bent over his, him trying to find ways to hold you off and keep the phone out of your reach. Somehow, you end up squashed between his—way too strong—thighs.

“Jungkook give me my phone back!” you whine.

Something on the screen makes him raise his eyebrows. “Are you two like—you know? Cuz I’ve heard some stuff and—”  

You shake your head, getting uneasy with the fact that he’s really reading your personal messages. “I don’t like Yoongi like that.”

Jungkook lifts his leg, using his knee to push you back. He’s got way too much strength in his body. “Okay, but I’m not sure that he knows that. He’s not a nice guy, you should steer clear of him.”

“Oh, and you would know how? It’s not like you’re such a gentleman.” Again, you try to jump for your phone, but he stops you in time by grabbing your wrist.

Face serious, he holds your gaze. “I’m not kidding. We run in the same circles. He’s a total asshole, you don’t want to get involved with him. You can do better.”

That sure is a way to silence you. You frown, settling back into your seat as Jungkook keeps scrolling through the chat. “I’m not into him, but he’s been texting me for a while. I was in his group for mock court.” Finally, you get your phone back, but your stomach feels uneasy looking at it. Perhaps Yoongi’s messages are a bit forward.

“I don’t know Yoongi well enough to be able to say for sure, but I know enough to tell you that he doesn’t talk to girls like you because he wants to be friends,” Jungkook says with a hand lingering on your thigh.

Way to make you feel good about yourself, Jeon. “What does that mean, girls like me?”

His face changes, eyes wide.

“What are you trying to say?” you press.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he leans forward onto his knees. “All I’m saying is that you don’t deserve to get played by some asshole who’s just trying to get into your pants.”

“Oh.” Is he being for real? He’s looking out for you? This is not how this is supposed to go. Jungkook shouldn’t be nice to you. He shouldn’t be helping you, or care about your wellbeing. He’s a dick and the two of you squabble and yell at each other. Yet, your chest warms at his words. Even if you weren’t looking to get together with Yoongi, it’s good to know he might have alternative motives. “Thank you.”

All he does is nod, before he grabs his laptop to resume where you guys left off. The awkwardness slowly dissipates as he takes you through the entire lineup thing again, just so you’ve got it down. After that you move onto the remaining subjects.

Today sure is strange. You never expected things to be so comfortable with Jungkook. Despite his exasperating personality and your on and off bickering, his presence is pleasant. It doesn’t take long for you to sink into the couch, drinking your third large cup of coffee.

Completely focussed on his monologue, you ask questions very sparingly, enraptured by him. You knew he was smart, he passes his classes with grades of 80% or higher for a reason. However, it’s different to see it in action.

Pizza arrives a little late, much to Jungkook’s dismay. Turns out he’s quite cranky when he gets hungry. He devours his pizza way faster than you can get through half of yours, and he’s quick to inch towards a slice from your box. You smack his hand away, reminding him of how he slandered you for your topping choice. He can have your leftovers from yesterday

“You call this pasta?” he questions in a disgusted tone, crouched down by the fridge

“Take it or starve. Your choice.”

He gets up, nose scrunched. “I’d rather starve, thanks. What exactly do you excel at? Since it’s not school, wit, or cooking.”

“Aim,” you spit, flicking a piece of pepperoni at him. It hits him straight in the cheek and you burst out into a fit of laughter. He stares at you in utter disbelief, removing the greasy piece of meat from his face. Tongue pressed to his cheek, he fights off his own smile—or an insult.

Eventually, he sits back down and goes over the remaining material while you eat. The end comes faster than you expected, his eyes darting to the clock.

“It’s getting late, I should probably go home.”

“What?” You pout. “How can you leave me to my own devices like this?!”

“Because I did what I could. I took you through all the material, now it’s up to you to try and memorise it. I’ve sent you my summaries and I’ll leave my flashcards here.” He grabs his things, meticulously stuffing them back into his backpack. With a heavy heart, you hand him his cap that had fallen to the floor.

Jungkook pushes his hair back, putting his cap on. He looks as nonchalant as he did when he came in. Backpack slung over one shoulder, hand shoved into his pocket. “Good luck. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, I guess,” you mumble. “Thanks.”

“I’m glad my presence was enjoyed.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I only endured you because I want to pass.” Part of that is true. Though, he wasn’t as bad to hang out with as you had originally assumed. Maybe it’s because his friends aren’t around to show off to. Or because he genuinely wanted to help. Which is still weird. “Good luck to you too.”

He waves you goodbye, opening up the door, only to be met with a gust of wind. The sound of rain enters your apartment. Water plummets from the sky by the bucket.

“Shit,” Jungkook peers outside, hesitating in the doorway. “If I don’t show up tomorrow morning, please assume that I have drowned.”

You would’ve laughed at the idea of him getting soaking wet any other day. He came here to help you study and now he has to walk home through the rain. No doubt he’s going to catch a cold dressed the way he is. Maybe you should listen to Taehyung and be the better person for once.

Getting up, you pull him back inside by the string of his backpack. “You can’t go out when it’s like that, you’ll get sick.”

He turns with a smile. “As much as I would like to see you squirm a little longer, I need to study too.”

“You study?”

“How else do you think I get good grades? Eat books for breakfast?”

You shrug. “We can study together tonight?”

Stepping closer, Jungkook forces you back inside. Almost nose to nose. Your heart skips a beat when his breath fans over your face. “Is this just a lame excuse from you to spend more time with me?”

“No. But I can only imagine the tragedy that will befall me if you catch a cold because you were out here helping me study.” You poke a finger into his chest. A grave mistake, it’s way firmer than you’d thought. “If I let you stay over, you no longer owe me one.”

“I’m sorry, but it really sounds like you just want me to stay.” Jungkook inches closer, backing you against the couch.

You open your mouth to say something when your phone rings. Looking over to where it lies on the couch, you see Taehyung’s name displayed. He can wait. You glance back up at Jungkook, who’s nearly chest to chest with you, and also has his eyes locked on the phone.

Then, he grins.

You act fast, snatching the phone from the couch and declining the call before he even gets a chance to touch it. Taehyung really doesn’t need to know that Jungkook is here.

Jungkook himself, however, picks up on this. He chuckles lightly, arching his eyebrow. “Are you trying to hide the fact that I’m here?’”

“I wouldn’t say I was trying to hide it, but I really don’t need my friends to think I’m hanging out with you.”

Jungkook drops his bag in the chair again, curious glint in his eyes. “And why is that?”

“Because,” you start, crossing your arms over your chest. “I don’t want to be associated with the likes of you.”

“What am I now? A villain?”

“No, you’re a stuck up fuckboy who does nothing but party and sleep with random girls and yet somehow still manages to pass all his classes. You’re annoying, egotistical, insufferable, pushy, invasive and disrespectful.”  You let out a deep breath. Yeah, maybe Jungkook’s been nice to you today, but he hasn’t changed.

He rolls his eyes. “Well then. I’ll have you know that you are nothing more than an average, boring girl struggling to get by. You’re opinionated, crass, entitled, standoffish, a bad listener, impossibly stubborn and a bit of an airhead.”  The words leave him as if they mean nothing. “It’s not like I’d want to be associated with the likes of you either. But here I am, stranded because of the storm. So you, my dear, are stuck with me tonight. You did offer for me to stay over, after all.”

“Whatever,” you breathe, “let’s just try to study.”

The two of you return to your previous position on the couch, but now, he faces you. With the flashcards in hand, Jungkook reaches into his bag and pulls out a container filled with Maltesers.

The rules are simple. You take turns asking each other questions. If you get it right, you get a chocolate, you get it wrong the person who asked the question gets a chocolate. Easy enough, right? Now that you feel a bit more steady with the material, you should be able to answer some questions correctly. Even if it’s just to rob Jungkook of the satisfaction of eating the entire thing on his own.

Two questions in and the bickering starts. Jungkook’s whining because he’s cold and you can’t turn up the radiator. But since he was the one to leave the door open, it’s his fault that it’s so cold in here to begin with. You’ve long hogged the blanket for yourself and you don’t intend on sharing it. It’s the only barrier that’s keeping you from touching his feet.

“Please,” he pouts. “I’m so cold, you can’t let me freeze to death in this fucking igloo.”

You pull the blanket closer. “No. It’s mine.”

He whines. “Come on, it’s big enough for both of us. It’ll be warmer if we share.”

“No.”

“You do realise I could just take it from you by force.”

“You would not.”

He sits up straighter, putting a hand on the edge of the fabric. “I’m giving you the option now. Either you share, or I’m pulling it from your cold, grabby hands. If you’re just afraid to snuggle with me, you can just say so.”

In order to not admit defeat, you give up half of the blanket so he can shove his legs under it. He extends his legs way past his side of the couch, his feet touching your lower back. You have no choice but to fold one of your legs over his, the other extended by his side. Indeed, it’s warmer this way.

“Now, where were we?” He flips to his next card. “Ah, yes. Weapon focus effect.”

That one you remember clearly. “It’s when a witness’ attention was so focused on the weapon present at the incident that they fail to remember any significant details about the perpetrator. It’s an involuntary process that often leads to inaccurate descriptions of the attackers.” You definitely got that one, no doubt. It’s easy.

Jungkook throws you a chocolate. “Good job, you’re doing well. It seems you listened to what I had to say after all.”

“I mean,” you say, popping the chocolate into your mouth. “I didn’t have that much of a choice but to listen, now did I?”

“You were visually undressing me the entire time. I had assumed your mind was busy with...other things.” He’s doing it on purpose, trying to get some type of reaction from you. Instead, you just bite your lip, not knowing what to say. “Oh, was I right? Tell me, what were you thinking about.”

You let out a sound, throwing a pillow at him. “I wasn’t thinking anything. And I wasn’t undressing you.”

“No, you were thinking of how big my head was, right? Would it,” he pauses, lifting up the blanket to peer underneath, “fit between your thighs?”

“What is wrong with you!” You scream, hands covering your face that quickly turns red.

He laughs in return. “You’re so easily flustered. I’d almost call it cute.”

Peering through your fingers, you frown. “Almost?”

“Yeah, almost. Not quite, because you’re still you.”

In a surge of confidence, you sit up straight and grab the stack of cards again. Not looking at him as you speak. “How about, instead of imagining what I taste like, you tell me what a flashbulb memory is.”

Inches away from choking on his spit, Jungkook doesn’t manage to come up with a smart retort. He just answers your questions with pursed lips and distant eyes. It’s correct though, so you get to throw him a chocolate. Which of course, he catches with his mouth. Show off.

It goes on for another while, storm raging outside. With the winds turned, you can now clearly hear the pattering against your window. You can’t imagine what Jungkook would’ve done had he been walking through this storm. It’s only getting worse.

Time ticks by fast. Soon, Jungkook is left with one last flashcard in his hands. And you are determined to get that last chocolate. He smirks to himself, probably aware that you don’t know the answer to this. But if anything, you are determined to prove him wrong.

“Tell me,” he trails, “what is the difference between compliance and suggestibility?”

You know this. He’s explained it three times. So you’re confident in your next words. “Compliance is when a witness giving a testimony willingly accepts a suggestion but is aware that the suggestion is wrong. Suggestibility is when they believe that the suggestion is right and thus take it for the truth. Both are problematic, but suggestibility is harder to expose.”

Jungkook tuts. “You got them switched around.”

“Huh?! That can’t be right!”

“Sure is, the last chocolate is mine.”

You snatch the bag away before he can grab it. “I don’t think so. Let me see that card.”

“Are you accusing me of lying?”

“For chocolate? I sure am. Let me see.”  You crawl over to his side, squishing yourself between him and the couch. “Jungkook,” you whine when he covers the card with his hand, “let me see. My grade depends on this.”

He chuckles at you. “It does not. I’m confident that you will pass regardless.”

You try to pry the card out of his hand, but it’s no use. The grip he has on the thing is too strong. He manages to hold you down without even breaking a sweat. It’s a few beats before you can realise that you’re now entirely pressed up against him. You can feel the muscles in his thighs shift, the soft skin of his arm against yours

“Let me have the chocolate and I will show you,” he whispers.

Flushed, you stop struggling. “Whatever, I know I’m right.”

Jungkook then reveals the card to you, showing you that you indeed, were right. “I’m glad you’re finally confident in your abilities. That’s the key to passing a test.”

Has he really been testing you this entire time? That’s sure one way to do the trick. Without replying, you sink into his side. Silently enjoying his warmth. It’s comfortable to sit like this, now that it’s night and the apartment continues to get colder. You don’t mind, really. Inhaling slightly, you catch a whiff of his fresh floral scent. It’s mixed with a sharp edge that suits him well.

As Jungkook grabs the stack of cards you got wrong to revise them, you don’t move. The two of you just get comfortable like that. It’s easier to see the cards the way anyhow. You can just look at them together. Plus, you’re starting to feel a little sleepy and don’t want to move. He seems equally as content, just reciting the questions and explaining why you got them wrong.

“Okay so,” you say, pointing at something on the card. “It’s not so much an issue on the witness’ side as it is on the police’s?”

Jungkook nods, looking at you. “They’re the ones leading the witness. It’s not the witness’ fault that they take on their opinion.”

You hum, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t falter, almost as if he’s searching your eyes. “Something wrong?”you ask, voice hushed, goosebumps appearing on the back of your neck. There’s a mole right below his bottom lip which is plump and looks soft. His top lip is more defined, making for a cute pout. The more you look, the more you notice all his moles. On his nostril, his cheek, his ear.

“No,” he answers eventually. Voice strained. “I think you have a pimple growing between your brows.”

“Get lost!” You shove your elbow into his side, pulling a pained groan from him. “You’re so stupid.”

For a moment he’s quiet, just rubbing his side and shifting so he can get more comfortable. One of his legs falls off the couch, the other still between yours. “You really hate me, huh?”

At any other given moment, you would’ve replied with yes. But now, it’s laden. Is he asking you that seriously? It’s one thing to tell Taehyung you can’t stand him, or to yell it in his face when he’s being a brat, but you can’t literally say it to him like this. Why, you don’t really know. The expectant look makes your stomach tighten.

“Why are you saying it like that?”

He shrugs. “No reason in particular. Just because,” he gestures at your bodies, “it doesn’t seem like you mind being around me that much. If anything I’d say that,” he stops, leaning in close to your ear. You can feel the barely-there graze of his lips. “You like being around me.”

You bite your tongue, looking up to find his eyes darker than before. Cocking his head to the side, he awaits your answer. You’re not willing to give him the satisfaction. There’s no need to stroke his already big ego any more. Yes, this is more pleasant than you’d expected. Yes, he’s nice to be around. But... “You’re still a pain in the ass. Sorry.” With that, you had expected him to look away, but he doesn’t. His eyes flicker down to your lips, and back up to your eyes.

“So are you,” he teases, lips stretching into a lopsided grin.

Within a heartbeat, your lips are touching. Jungkook groans. You gasp, pulling him closer. Closed eyes, your heart beats a million miles an hour, revelling in the feeling of his mouth against yours. How soft his lips are. The trailing of his fingertips up your neck so he can crane your head back.

He comes to life, parting with a brief look into your eyes and a deep breath. Then, diving in full force. Jungkook kisses you like he’s been waiting to—like he’s hungry for it. You can barely believe that it’s happening, still trying to register that he’s actually kissing you. That it feels this good.

Your entire body kicks into gear when he bites at your bottom lip. Shifting your body to face his, you wrap a hand around the back of his neck. Returning his fervor, your mouths part and tongues meet in a desperate clash. Jungkook lets out a deep, guttural sound that makes you shiver. He’s skilled, tongue swiping over yours in a way that you can barely keep up with. Deliciously hot, just edging on sloppy. There’s no room for pauses, no time for thoughts.

Gaining purchase against the armrest, you swing a leg over his to sit in his lap. Jungkook’s leaning back still, pawing at your waist now that he’s got full access. You take full advantage of the position, crashing into him and devouring him. Biting at his lips, sucking his tongue into your mouth. The feeling is nearly euphoric paired with the rough, firm touches of his hands all over your body.

He touches anything he can find. Gripping onto your thighs and ass, slipping under your tank top and sweater to graze the skin on your back. Sparks erupt everywhere.

Mid-kiss, he sits up. Twisting so he can firmly plant both his feet on the found. It’s the angle he needs to pull you right against him. Your hips make contact and you moan. He’s not quite hard but he’s certainly getting there and the thought makes your head spin.

“Fuck,” you gasp, breaking away for air while he grids his hips up into yours. “Jungkook—”

“No talking,” he mouths against your jawline. “More kissing,” his voice is so  raspy that it’s barely recognisable. Almost a growl.

You push his cap off. Grabbing his face with both hands and kissing him firmly. Angling his head back the same way he had done to you. Kissing him is way better than you could’ve ever imagined. He’s rougher, stronger, harder against your body. You need more.

Slipping your hands under his shoulder, you lift it. Tracing the hard lines of his chest, feeling how he jumps under your touch. It empowers you, makes you bolder. Your fingers reach a pert nipple, brushing over it only to hear him moan in the back of his throat. God, he keeps on getting better and better. Sensitive it seems, as you roll the bud between your fingers. His hips buck up into yours. Fully hard at this point, he must start to get uncomfortable in those jeans.

Jungkook’s resolve with kissing you slows, needing air. He breaks away with a smirk, cheeks flushed and panting. Holding your gaze steady, he pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth motion. Revealing planes of unmarred skin and tattoos you had yet to discover.

You take no shame in staring, reaching out to trace the dream catcher on his shoulder. Moving along the lines of thread and feathers that reach his elbow.

“Like what you see?” he whispers, pushing you closer with a hand on your lower back just so he can kiss your neck. You shiver, legs spreading. Leaning your head back to give him enough room to mark you up. The thought alone makes you whimper. “What’s that?” he mumbles, licking a hot stripe up your throat.

Fingers digging into his shoulders, you grind down onto him. He moans in response. “Stop being so smug.”

Jungkook throws his head back, looking at you through his lashes as you gyrate your hips more firmly. His body on full display. “I don’t know, it seems like you’re into it.”

“For fucks sake, shut up and kiss me.”

He listens, capturing your mouth with his. Everything moves fast after that. Between tongues and mouths clashing, Jungkook rids you of your sweater. He kisses down your neck and throat, leaving marks and enjoying the way that you quiver for him. You’re soaking through your leggings at this point. Jungkook’s doing no better.

When he pulls away, you take the opportunity to kiss down his neck, collarbones and chest. To get off his lap and kneel between his legs. His eyes widen as you do so. A hand immediately comes up to push your hair aside, tipping your chin upwards. When he traces his thumb over your mouth, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around the digit and bite down, making him hiss.

Spreading his legs to accomodate you, he relaxes against the cushions. Just like little pricks on the edge of your consciousness, you feel the nerves. You question your skills when you undo his jeans and pull them down his legs. Yet, the hazy look in his eyes tells you that he’s going to like this no matter what. He all but arches into you when you palm him through his underwear. Rock hard and leaking through the fabric, you don’t want to wait any longer to finally get your mouth on him. To hear him moan for you.

So you reach past his waistband, foregoing any teasing and pull the fabric down. His cock slaps up against his stomach, making him hiss again. The sight is gorgeous. Jungkook with his head thrown back, hair a mess, chest heaving and flushed even though you’ve barely touched him. It’s satisfying to know you did that to him.

You sit down on your knees, holding him in one hand and go slow. Mouthing at him first, giving him just a taste of what’s to come. He doesn’t hold back for you, reddened lips parting with all the noises he lets out. When you take the tip into your mouth, he jolts—groans and reaches to anchor himself on your shoulder. You have one hand on his thigh, the other around the base. That way, you steady yourself when you sink down on him.

“Don’t—Fuck, keep going.” A gentle hand winds into your hair, guiding you further onto his cock. You’re not usually one to do this but, seeing him feel this good spurs you on. It makes you want to take all of him. You don’t stop when he hits the back of your throat, gag reflex kicking in. He moans at the feeling, so you try to swallow. “Shit, fuck, don’t do that. Your mouth,” he pants, “so good.”

Feeling his grip loosen, you pull up, taking a deep breath when you let him out of your mouth. Spit dribbles from your mouth to the head, tears sting at the corners of your eyes. You look up, giving him the full vision, and you don’t look away when you sink down again.

You’re so wet. Core aching but unable to find any sort of relief. You end up trying to grind your hips without any payoff. Meanwhile, you start a steady rhythm. Hollowing out your cheeks and using your tongue on the underside. It works. You have him moaning out your name in seconds. His hand tightens in your hair again, not to force you, but spurring you on to take him a little deeper each time. Right until your nose hits his stomach. You hold there, to let him feel the flex of your throat one more time. Just so he remembers it. Then you take your rhythm back up, a little faster, a little tighter. Your jaw starts to hurt, but it’s worth it. To feel his thighs start to tremble and his stomach clench. How he tightens his hold on your hair, moans pitching every time you pass your tongue right under the head.

Your lungs are burning, but you can’t help but feel addicted to him. Sucking him harder and feeling him near that edge. You dig your nails into his thigh, breathing in through your nose. Jungkook’s hip start moving just a little, enough to startle you.

“‘M close,” he moans. “Fuck, can I—in your mouth. Shit.” He runs a hand through his hair, browns furrowed deep. When he opens his eyes you shiver. His lids are heavy, pupils blown and cheeks red. Just like his lips—he sinks his teeth into his bottom one when you resume.

He takes it as a yes, unable to stop his hips from pushing up. You let him take control, holding yourself still, hands on his thighs. Jungkook’s breathing picks up, moans mixing into one drawn out sound. You meet his eyes, mouth stuffed with his cock. That’s all he needed. He twitches and cums into your mouth. The taste is bitter and harsh on your tongue. You close your eyes, focused on the feeling of his body trembling. You’re the one who did that to him.

When he lets you go and you pull off him, he gives you a fuck-out yet expectant look. A cocky arch of his eyebrow when he sees your bulged cheeks. Waiting for you to swallow.

Instead, you reach for his mug that sits on the edge of the table and spit into it. Flinching at the leftover taste.

Jungkook nudges you with his knee. “Why are you like this?”

You set his cup down and reach for your own, take a big gulp of now-cold coffee. “I’m not swallowing your jizz.” The thought of doing that alone makes you want to puke.

“Don’t call it that.”

Rolling your eyes, you stand up on wobbly legs. “I just had it in my mouth, so I can call it whatever I want.”

Jungkook mimics your eyeroll. “Fine.” He pats your thigh. “Pants off.”

“What?”

He lies down on the couch. Surely he doesn’t expect you to ride him after you just fucked up your throat for him? What an ass. “You heard me, naked now. Chop chop.” He motions for you to hurry up and you just give him a blank stare. “Ugh, come here.”  Jungkook sits up just slightly again and pulls you closer by your waistband. He gives you a brief look. “Unless you don’t wanna get naked?”

You chuckle, pushing at his hands to get him to slide your leggings off. A hand slips between your thighs to touch you. Rubbing you through the fabric, your knees nearly buckle. He’s nonchalant about it, lying back, eyes focused between your legs. Yet, he’s too accurate, easily finding his target.

“Jungkook,” you whine, grabbing onto the back of the couch.

He smirks. “Let’s take these off too.” The snap of your panties to your hip pulls you back. You shove them down, taken aback by the feeling of a hand grabbing your thigh. You’re about to question him, when he scoots further back on the couch and lifts your leg past his body. “Have a seat.”

Mind absolutely blank, you let him guide you to sit over his face. You’re dripping and he can see it—feel it probably from the way you just grazed his chest. A small moan leaving your lips when he reaches up to kiss your stomach.

“Don’t be shy,” he chuckles. “I’ve got you.”

You shift forward, holding onto the back of the couch. His hands come up to your thighs, pulling you even higher so he can slot his mouth onto your core. You can’t help but moan.

Noisy. Jungkook is so noisy. He sucks your lips into his mouth, teethes at them until you’re shaking. You struggle to hold your hips still, the need to grind into him too strong. And he does nothing to stop you. No, he urges you on. Looking up at you with those big eyes and nodding against you. Jungkook opens his mouth, tongue darting out to tease at your clit just briefly. Then, the reigns are all yours.

He holds you by the hips so you can hesitantly start moving. You shiver. It feels so good; the wet warmth of his mouth against your core. He follows you, hands pawing at your thighs, hips, and ass. With eyes closed, Jungkook eats you out like he’s been dying to do it. There’s no teasing, no playing—he’s straight to the point. You move over his tongue as he sucks on your cunt, nibbling and flicking whenever he gets the chance. Anything else is irrelevant. The sight of his head blissed out between your thighs is all you can focus on.

The pleasure spikes, shooting up your spine and filling you with warmth. It’s embarrassing how fast he gets you on the edge. How good he is. The way he occasionally stops you to take that bundle of nerves between his lips and suck on it until you’re screaming—it’s mind blowing. Your entire body is on fire, sweat drips down your back. His name falls from your lips in cries that echo throughout the room. Louder than the storm raging against the window.

“Jungkook, I’m—” you pant, unable to finish your sentence with the moans that he pulls from you. Incapable of thinking from the second he swirls his tongue around your entrance and presses inside. You halt all your movements. Nails dug deeply into the couch, you reach for his hair with your other hand. He moans when you grip it tightly, his own fingers tightening around your hips. “Don’t stop.”

He alternates between fucking his tongue into you and sucking on your clit. The intensity is almost too much. The irregularity keeps you on your toes and has you nearly teetering over the edge. You just need to—Jungkook reaches behind you and plunges two fingers into your sopping core. The sensation of being filled along with his tongue flicking over you has your eyes rolling back. Everything goes white.

You double over on the couch, unable to keep yourself up and smothering him in the process. Trembling in his hold, he helps you slowly ride out your high. Short, gentle movements against his mouth. The rocking of your hips is as involuntary as the way your body keeps shaking when he lets you go. Breath high in your throat, you chuckle.

“Good god.” You fall down when he slips out from underneath you.

As you twist towards him, Jungkook wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, crawling over you. All your limbs still feel like jelly, your mind swimming. “Yeah, that good?”

You hum, eyes closing. Wanting to lie down, you turn on your back, hearing a sharp thud.

“Shit,” Jungkook gasps. He’s grasping his chin with a laugh.

A few seconds pass before you feel the soreness in your knee. “Ugh, I’m so sorry,” you whine, reaching up to touch him. But he has other plans. Jungkook surges down smiling, pressing your mouths together for the first time in what feels like hours. The stickiness on his face doesn’t go unnoticed. The reminder that he just ate you out, that he’s the one who made you cum that hard. You moan when you taste yourself on his tongue.

He kisses you deeply, smiling against your mouth. You finally get rid of your tank top, now fully naked. He mouths over your chest, twisting your nipples, spreading your legs so that he can fit between them. Pressing himself against you, hard and waiting. “Can you go again?” he asks, pulling away and searching your eyes.

You still feel floaty, but the sensation of his hard cock pressing against your thigh has you quivering. “Yeah.”  You’re aching to feel him inside, so you tilt your hips up towards him. Spreading your legs wider and inviting him.

“Wait,” you blurt, eyes flying open and pressing a hand against his chest. He stops with his hand around his dick, just about ready to slide home. “Condom.”

Jungkook curses, looking around the room. He locates his jeans that lie in a pile with his shirt and boxers. The fact that he’s actually got a condom in there is uncanny.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?”  You joke.

He shrugs. “I wore these jeans while going out last night.”

“You’re disgusting!” You slap his arm lightly, but he just chuckles in return. He knows just as well as you do that you’re waiting for him to fuck you. The clenching of your core attests to that.

No time is wasted, Jungkook puts the condom on and lines himself up. “You good?”  

You nod. “Just go slow.”

The slight oversensitivity just makes it feel even better. He stretches you out so perfectly. You feel every inch, every stutter of his hips as he goes deeper. Way deeper than you’d expected. Until his hips meet yours and he curses, burying his face into your neck.

“You feel good,” he mumbles, kissing your skin.

“You too.” Trailing your fingers up his back, you wait for your body to adjust to him. To feel yourself relax and pull for more. That tell-tale need for movement, friction. Jungkook holds steady, hips barely moving. “Go,” you say when your stomach clenches. “Move. Fuck me like you mean it.”

Jungkook growls, grasping onto the couch. Pulling out and slamming back in full force. You slide up the cushions, so fast you grasp onto him for support. Fingernails digging into his back, legs wrapping around his waist, you keen at the pleasure. Each thrust is better than the last. Harder, more precise.

Your back arches off the couch, mouth agape. Pleasure is constant, like your body is vibrating with it. Jungkook mouths at your neck, sucking, biting—teeth playfully tugging at your ear just to whisper something dirty that you can barely comprehend. Your mind can’t make sense of anything but his dick pumping inside of you. His hips slapping against yours and his mouth against your skin.

Until he kisses you. His mouth messily connecting with yours, movements slowing. With a hand on your ass, he hikes you up the couch, angling your body so that he can press your legs to your chest. Just like that, he picks up. Starting off slow, still kissing you, tongue laving over yours almost sweetly. You shiver, the slow drag of his cock as delicious as the harsh assault. He changes angles, just a hair, but it’s enough for him to graze that part inside of you that makes you see stars.

Throwing your head back, you moan. Fingers sliding through the sweat on his back, up to tangle into his hair, gripping tight. He groans. Head falling onto your shoulder, hips stuttering against yours.

“You like that?” you whisper into his ear, tongue darting out to flick at a pierced lobe.

He nods, teeth sinking into your shoulder as you pull hard. Hips picking up, chasing the pleasure.

Hearing him moan like that. So unabashed and loud, only adds to your pleasure. Toes curling, you close your eyes and let your head fall back. Hips meeting him thrust for thrust, helping him reach even deeper inside of you. To hit that spot every single time. Jungkook has perfected that balance between smooth and hard. Never slamming rough enough to jolt you, yet firm enough to make you capable of sounds you were unaware of. Rhythmic, never stopping or slowing. So constant you can’t do anything but fall into motion with him.

Bodies syncing up. Hands finding places to touch.  Nipples, lips, thighs, waists, hair. He is holding you spread open for him, your thighs starting to ache. But it’s worth it, because soon, you feel the pleasure spike.

Your stomach tightens, tingling at the base of your spine. “Jungkook,” you moan.

He answers by looking up, lips bitten red and parted.

“Can you,” you can’t finish the sentence, moaning and closing your eyes. Tapping his hand on your thigh is enough though. He releases you, instead pulling your legs around his waist. Closer like this, his chest slides over yours. It gives you just enough space to reach between your bodies and touch yourself.

He looks down at the sensation, cursing at the sight of your fingers playing with your clit while his cock slides in and out of you. The angle doesn’t let you do the same, but you can hear the slick slide clearly. You can feel it dripping down your ass.

The added pleasure is enough to put you on the edge, fast. “I’m gonna—Jungkook!” you yelp when he leans down and sucks a nipple into his mouth. “Fuck.” One hand between your bodies, the other holding his hair.

In seconds, your high hits you. Hard. Your entire body locks up, so much that Jungkook lets out a strangled moan. Fluttering around him he joins you in your peak. Thrusts stilling, pressed deep inside of you. He spills into the condom as you rut your hips, still coming down.

Spent bodies collapse onto the couch, Jungkook refusing to pull out immediately. He’s basking in the feeling of your aftershock, walls still clenching ever so slightly. You can’t blame him. It feels good. Having him inside of you as he lies down, pulling your hips against his, kissing you. His mouth is tender, laving over yours without much hurry. A hand combing through your hair, softly humming, smiling.

He finally pulls out, leaving you feeling empty and slightly sore. Grunting, he ties the condom and makes a show of throwing it into the same mug you used earlier. It makes him grin.

“I’m throwing that mug out.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“Oh, I really do. It’s been tainted beyond remedy. I’m not drinking from that, ever again.”

Jungkook presses his nose against your temple, still grinning like a fool. “You’re so weird.”

You snort. “Says the guy who just three-point shot a condom into a mug full of cum.”

No reply follows, only comfortable silence. Jungkook and you just lie like that for a while. Bodies coming down, breaths evening out, enjoying each other. Slightly sticky with sweat, you let him grab the blanket and throw it over you. Your heart swells.

Could it be possible that you’re not the only one who feels something more? Deep down, you’ve always known he’s not just an asshole. You’ve just never seen that side of him before today. All this time you’ve tried to ignore it. To not let yourself fall for that trap. A guy like him isn’t supposed to be good. Yet, maybe you were wrong about him. And maybe, he feels the same way about you.

Taehyung isn’t gonna let you hear the end of this, but you can’t help but wonder if there is an opportunity for more between you and Jungkook?

“You know,” he says after a while, “We should definitely do this again.”

Your heart shatters. That’s it. Reality crashing down on you. Of course Jungkook doesn’t feel anything for you. He’s just out for sex and you should’ve known.

You scramble up from the couch. Jungkook sputters out something you can’t quite catch, trying to grab a hold of you. “Don’t touch me,” you spit. “I can’t believe you.” Grabbing your panties and pulling them on alongside your sweater, you put distance between the two of you. “Is that what I am to you? Just another cunt to fuck?”

Jungkook’s hastily putting on his boxers, standing up, eyes wide. He opens his mouth, but you don’t care to listen.

“That’s why you were really here, right? To get into my pants. That’s why you had the condom on you.” It’s all falling together now. How could you have been so stupid? “All the fucking whining about Yoongi, but you’re no better than him.”

“Stop,” he rushes, shaking his head. “Listen to me—“

“Don’t!” you call when he reaches for you, grabbing you by the wrists and forcing you to look at him. You try to wriggle away, but he’s holding you steady.

“Listen,” he tries again. “I—“

You shove at his chest. “Let me go, Jungkook. Fucking let me go.”

He obeys, arms falling limply beside his body. Expression going soft when he sees you’re crying. “Please hear me out.”

“No, Jungkook. You don’t get it. I have feelings for you. Real, non-sexual feelings. I don’t just want to be another girl on your checklist.” There it is. Out with the truth. Your breaths come out short and ragged. Harshly wiping your tears, you grab your leggings off the floor. Jungkook just stares at you. “I was stupid to fall for this act.” It’s true. He doesn’t date. Sex. That’s it. You should’ve known, you should’ve protected yourself. Should’ve never let him weasel his way into your heart.

Jungkook deflates, head falling, hair shielding his eyes. “I’m sorry that you think of me this way.”

What a pretentious prick. “Forget it Jungkook, I’m not buying it.” You look outside, rain still pouring down the window. “You know where everything is. I want you out before sunrise.” You turn your back on him and storm into your bedroom, slamming the door closed.

The contents of your cabinet click, something falling to the floor. Your tears only get worse. Feeling the cold of your room wrap around your worn out body. To feel the remnants of him still cling to your skin. The marks, the soreness, and the scent. God, you’re so dumb. You want to call Taehyung, to hear his voice and have him comfort you. But it’s two in the morning and his sleep schedule is shaky enough as it is.

So you just opt for a shower, stripping and getting under the hot spray to wash away whatever you can. You douse yourself in your favourite clementine scented body wash. But it does nothing to clean the fresh tears. Nothing can. The realisation that your feelings for Jungkook had gone way past crush hurts. You let your guard down and he drove a knife into your back.

Sleep, you think. You need sleep. You need to rid yourself of these thoughts and feelings. Wake up tomorrow and just pretend like this never happened. Even if you know it’ll be evident. You can pretend.

You dry off and brush your teeth. Three times to be precise. Ending up in bed wrapped in your favourite teddy sweater, warm and cosy. Your chest still aches with tears that no longer fall. Heart heavy. Like you miss him close to you.

There’s not much you can do but close your eyes and will your mind to shut off. You don’t want to think about him anymore.

The creaking of your door opening startles you right as you’re drifting off. He better be joking. You refuse to move, holding tightly onto the blanket, hoping that he’s just checking in on you and will leave. You hear the door click closed, and then the bed dips.

You hold your breath. Jungkook doesn’t speak. He lifts the covers so he can scoot under them and pull you against his chest. It’s not a tight hold, but it’s there. A strong arm draped over your waist, legs grazing yours as you pretend to be asleep. The feather-light gaze of his lips against your neck makes fresh tears appear in your eyes.

“Jungkook,” you croak.

He shushes you. “I know you’re upset with me. I just don’t want you to be alone when you’re feeling like this. We can talk in the morning—if you want. For now, just get some rest.”

It’s true. You shouldn’t be alone, crying yourself to sleep. Even if he’s the one that caused it. You just don’t want to let yourself trust the gesture. He’s probably trying to make you feel less angry. Even if it doesn’t work, it’s appreciated, ill intent or not. Having someone here is calming, letting you fall into an unruly slumber.

The next morning, you wake up in his embrace. Closer, back pressed to his chest. His nose nuzzles into your hair. It’s so nice. Warm. Soothing. He’s a good cuddler.

Then, your entire body stiffens. The previous night coming back to you in flashes. Your bodies entwined on the couch, moans bouncing off the wall. You swallow tightly, lifting his arm.

“Hey,” Jungkook whispers. He must’ve already been awake, reaching for your hand and giving it a small squeeze. “Should I go?”

Yes. “No,” you mumble. You need answers. To make the story whole before you force him out of your life for good.

“Do you want to—”

“Why do you always act like such a dick around me?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath. “Because you won’t give me the time of day otherwise.”

You still, practically holding your breath so that you can hear every word.

“Every time I’m nice to you, you pretend like I don’t exist. When I push your buttons,” he sighs, “that’s when I get your attention.”

Attention? He wants your attention? Your mind’s running circles, afraid to turn around and see the look in his eyes and get swayed. Feel remorse for the pain you hear lined in his voice. That you can feel in the trembling of his hand encasing yours.

“Can you at least say something?” he asks.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.”

He sits up, the mattress shifting and your eyes closing tightly.  “Sit up, please.”  Grabbing your arm, Jungkook gets you to reluctantly sit up and face him. Though you won’t look at him, eyes on your knees that nearly touch his. You notice that he’s still in his boxers, but he’s at least wearing a shirt. He doesn’t force you to look at him when he starts speaking again. “I want to be honest with you.” He toys with the edge of your sheets. “But if you’re not going to listen to the whole story it’s not worth telling you.”

Your heart hammers. Tears threaten to fall. Taking a deep breath gives away your nerves. You want to tell him he can’t ask that of you. That he doesn’t deserve that. But if there’s even a slight chance of a misunderstanding—something your heart hopes for—you have to hear him out. Even if it’ll hurt. “Okay.”

“Thank you,” he mumbles. He’s nervous too. Breath shaky like his body, nearly curled in on himself. You never thought you’d see him this vulnerable. “Honestly, when I first met you, I was intrigued by you because I couldn’t have you. You just held up your nose every time I as much as looked your way. It made me want to know more about you. And the moment I did, it was over for me. I realised that you’re not just opinionated, crass, and entitled. You’re smart, a hard worker, and you’re such a good friend.”

You finally dare to look up. To see the desperate look in his eyes as he pauses. Shocked.

“I admire you,” he whispers.

“What?” you blurt. “You’re the one with the straight A’s, not me.”

He shakes his head in defeat, biting his lip and looking away. “The only reason I’m getting straight A’s is because I’ve taken these classes before. I’m not like you, I don’t work hard. I should be studying like you.”

You frown. “What do you mean, you’ve done them before? Do you already have a law degree?”

Jungkook avoids your eyes. “When I got out of high school at the age of seventeen, I got into a big university with a scholarship. The full ride. But I was stupid,” he croaks. “I wanted to fully enjoy the college ride. So I studied just enough to get by and dedicated the rest of my time to partying.” He says it like he’s disgusted with himself. Muscles in his neck tightening as he swallows impending tears. “I got arrested for underage drinking and lost the entire scholarship. Everything I had worked so hard for, down the drain.”

The words leave him pained, the regret for his past decisions clear in his eyes. Yet, he’s still here, studying this degree you know most students can’t afford. You have a scholarship too.

“So yeah,” he breathes. “I wish I had a little more discipline like you. I admire that you’re able to put school first. As much as I pretend to hate you just to get your attention, I like being around you. You’re a positive influence on people, including me.”

“So it’s my fault? For judging you?”

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No, not at all. As I said, I was being an ass on purpose because I was curious about you. But when I got to know you,” he cocks his head to the side, “feelings happened. I just couldn't find a way to show you the better sides of myself. Which is partially why I showed up yesterday.”

“Huh,” you frown. So he did have ulterior motives? “How does that change anything? You still showed up here to sleep with me.” He’s talking in circles. You feel remorse for him, but you tell yourself to stay strong. His past doesn’t excuse his actions.

“I really wasn’t planning on sleeping with you. I wouldn’t do that to you. There just was no other way to get you to spend time alone with me. I wanted to show you a better side of me, hoping that you’d realise I’m not all bad and maybe would give me a chance.” A chance to what? “I like you,” he adds when you don’t respond, “a lot.”

What? He can’t be serious. After everything that happened.

“But I also care about you. I like being around you—bickering included. I genuinely wanted to help. I know how hard it is to start again, I didn’t want to see you go through that.”

You go silent. Trying to think over his words and not see the bad. To believe that he means it. He did help you after all. He studied with you for hours, never insinuating anything sexual. He was nice, comforting and believed in you. You never asked for any of that. And after all, you kissed him too. You could’ve stopped it. If he had just wanted sex, he wouldn’t be here.

But he is. “Jungkook, I’m so sorry,” you say, grabbing his hand.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. For making you feel used. I should’ve just been honest with you.” Jungkook laces your fingers together. “I know it was a dick move on my side to sleep with you. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

“I played as much of a part in it as you did. So let’s just—how about we call it even. Bury the hatchet?” You cock your head to the side, rubbing your thumb over the back of his hand. It won’t be easy, you’ll need to do a lot of thinking, but your heart wants to forgive him. To see more of his gentler side.

He nods, lifting up your hand and pressing his lips against your knuckles. “Sounds good to me.”

The two of you get up after that, even if it’s a little awkward. It’s weird to not be bickering with him. You’re surprised that he actually cleaned the living room last night. There’s not a trace of him left aside from his clothes that are carefully folded on the table. Even that mug is gone.

“What do you want to eat?” you ask, reaching to the top shelve for another mug.

Jungkook comes closer. “Just coffee is okay for now.”

You turn, almost bumping into his chest, blushing heavily. Now that he knows you have feelings for him, he’s enjoying himself just a little too much. Smiling at you while you’re making coffee and some cereal for yourself. You eat in silence, browsing through your phone.

It’s when you get up to clean, that Jungkook speaks again.

“Hey,” he says, grabbing you back by the waist.

“Hi?” You turn around in his grip.

“You know,” he starts, hand coming up to brush your hair behind your ear. “As much as I regret what I said yesterday, I did mean it.”

“What?” You chuckle lightly. “You want to do that again?”

He nods, and you catch a faint redness dusting his cheeks. “I do, a lot of times, if you want.”

You laugh, twisting away from him to put the dishes in the sink. “If that is your way of you asking me to be your girlfriend, Jungkook, then I must say you’re not quite hitting the right angle. Seeing what happened yesterday.” He can’t seriously be thinking you just want him for sex after all that. You start cleaning, even if it’s just to avoid having to look at him and admit that you’re shy. Thinking about what happened last night—the good parts.

Sighing, he turns off the tap that you had just turned on.

“Hey!” You turn it back on, only to have him shut it off again. “What do you want?”

“I’m not saying that I want you to be my girlfriend. I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet.” He leans in, brushing his nose against yours, searching your eyes like he’d done the night before. Like he’s waiting for permission.

You couldn’t resist him even if you tried. So you kiss him, just briefly. “Then what are you ready for, big boy?”

He laughs. “For starters, I would love to take you out for dinner after the exam that’s in,” he looks up at the clock, “six hours.”

You groan, throwing your head back. “Don’t remind me.” It’s probably a wiser decision to take some time to think. See how you feel about this, but dinner won’t hurt. “I will still need some time to think about,” you gesture between you two, “whatever this is.”

“Oh,” his face falls. “Yeah, I get that. I just thought that—since you said you have feelings for me too.” Jungkook pouts. He fucking juts out his bottom lip and you haven’t seen anything more endearing in your entire life. Your heart does a weird little flip, and you know that you’re a goner. Even more so than you had been before last night.

Now you know that he is good. That he is worthy of a chance. So why not give it? Why would you sit around and let your mind think all sorts of negative things about him if you can give him the chance to prove to you that he’s a great guy. As he said, it’s just a date. Not a label. Yet.

When he turns away, you pull him back by his hand, slamming your lips to his. He grunts, both hands coming up to thread through your hair. The kiss isn’t deep. It isn’t anything like the way you kissed last night. It sweeps you off your feet, so tender and warm. When he pulls away, you’re out of breath and you can see the adoration in his eyes. You hope he can see it in yours.

Then, he pinches your butt.

You push at his chest. “Thanks for reminding me that you’re still an annoying brat.”

He chuckles, giving you a peck on the lips. “But you like me that way.”

“Sadly,” you grumble, winding your arms around his neck. “I do.”

Thanks to: @/fallinforkoo @knjkitten​ @yoongs-jeontae​ @wintaejk​ @guksweet​ @rynofpentacles​ @mikroparadise​ @jeonggukkiepabo​ @softlyjiminie​ Requested by: @/fallinforkoo + @hornyjailbonk​ + 3x Anonymous Taglist: @jiminskth​ @teresaisla​​ @yeontanie21​​ @tessanator97​​ @ladyartemesia​ @dayjeons​​ @djasheyash99​​ @the-rise-of-bangtan-boyz​​ @bbangtanlove95​ @zeharilisharaban​ @jungkooksgoodgirl​​ @topanga27​​ @pjmochii​​ @iwanttohitmyself​​ @veryuniquenamegoeshere​​ @bel-abysse​​ @jiminsreads​​ @jungkookspromise​​

© GguksGalaxy 2020 This is a work of fiction and is in no way meant to give an accurate representation of the idols included. Please do not steal, copy, redistribute or take uncredited inspiration from my work. 

[writinginthesecrettrees]

On Camera

 a fic for @writethelifeyouwant about Sam. On camera.

I think it ended up a bit over 500 words. Sorry not sorry.

-

Sam looks around nervously, a final check that everything’s in place. Bed made, door locked, roommate out for the next few hours, lights adjusted the way the studio told him to. Lube and a “realistic” dildo in easy reach, and he’s wearing loose gray sweatpants and a Stanford-red hoodie.

Tripod with camera aimed at the pool of light on the bed, and he wishes he could keep his face out but the studio pays more if they can see his face, his reactions, and he’s more than a little desperate since discovering that his scholarship doesn’t cover books or meal plan and he needs cash fast. Luckily there’s a market for pretty boys in financial need, he doesn’t even need to let someone else touch him and the studio loved his jack-off video. 

This’ll pay more.

Deep breath. He hits “record” and moves around to sit on the bed.

“Hey, so uh… I’m Sam, and you all liked my first vid so much, I’m making another. And it’d really help me out if you could leave a comment about what else you’d like to see from me.” He scrubs his hands on his sweatpants, laughs a little. “I’m still a bit nervous, so any encouragement you all could give would be… yeah.”

The studio told him not to worry about music or anything, they’d add some when they edited the video he’s sending them, but he can’t help wishing he could have something playing. Anything to get his mind off the camera in front of him and the blinking red light. He knows his cheeks are flushed red from embarrassment, but the studio loved that. “Ya look all innocent and shy... that gets lots of subscribers. Keep it up!”

He rubs the back of his neck, glances up at the camera, and feels himself blush harder. The problem is he’s just not in the mood, but if he doesn’t drop this tape in the mail today, he’s gonna start really falling behind on his classes. And maybe he shouldn’t, because that’s what got him into this new line of work in the first place, but he can’t break a habit of a lifetime, so he closes his eyes and thinks what would dean do.

Tries not to feel shame as he pictures Dean in his position and his dick starts to take interest immediately. He strokes it lightly, teasing through soft cotton, enough so it plumps up to tent the fabric before sliding his hands up his chest, rubbing at his nipples until they stiffen.

what would dean do

Sam opens his eyes, grins at the camera. “Think I should take it off?” He pulls the zipper of his hoodie down a couple inches, bites his lip, drags it further until the N and F are separated. That’s enough to trail his hand up between his pecs, up his throat, pushing his head back as he draws his fingers up over his chin to tease at his lips. Pretends it’s someone else’s hand (pretends it’s dean’s) as he sucks the tip of his index finger in and moans softly. He brings his free hand up to squeeze his pec, and blushes again. It’s not a tit, but he’s been touching himself the way Dean touches girls for so long he’s not sure he can get off without it.

Slowly, he pulls his finger out of his mouth, makes it pop loudly before tugging the zipper down completely and shrugging out of the sleeves. “You’ve got a great bod, kid, let us get a good look,” the studio said, so he pauses there, flexing his muscles, running his hands over his abs and gasping as he tickles his own sides. Goes back to his chest to squeeze and tweak his nipple, pinches one hard and gives it a little twist that makes him gasp. His eyelids are heavy as he looks into the camera again.

“I like when it hurts, just a little.” He barely recognizes the husky voice as he confides in the camera. In the thousands, maybe millions of faceless men who are going to watch this. Sam lets his eyes fall shut and pictures Dean standing there. “Wish you could touch me.”

what would dean do

Sam lets his hands fall, caresses his dick through his sweatpants with a groan. “Ready for more?” He falls back onto the bed, lifts his hips to slide his sweatpants off his hips, scoots back as his cock springs free of the waistband to thump against his belly. It’s hard and heavy, aching for attention but he avoids touching it. Frames it in his hands as he kicks his sweatpants off to the floor, pressing on the base with his thumbs to make it stand straight in the air. “Big, huh?” is not false bragging. He knows what average is, in real life and in porn, knows that he’s larger than most. Knows that he looks even bigger shaved bare, like the studio instructed. “Too bad it’s wasted on me.”

He pulls a leg up, raising his ass a bit higher, feels the tension in his abs as he reaches around his thigh to grab a cheek. Spreads himself wide, shows his hole to the camera. “What I really like… I like playing with this.” He braces himself on one elbow, reaches further, and rubs just the tips of two fingers over his hole, dry. His dick twitches, precum beading at the tip and smearing on his skin. Sam presses lightly, then harder, gets a finger in halfway to the first joint. A quick glance over his shoulder and he’s able to stretch his arm back to the bottle of lube on his nightstand. He flicks the lid open with his thumb and drizzles slick over his fingers and hole, hissing slightly at the chill.

The lube makes everything slippery, lets his first finger sink in completely and he’s got a second shoved in with a happy sigh before he remembers what the studio said. “Go slow, make ‘em wait for it.” He pulls his fingers halfway out, shoves them back in, starts slowly fucking himself and crooks his fingers up to hit his prostate. His dick leaks out more precum, a steady drip like a string of drool from where the head bobs in the air to his belly. His hips jerk, fucking back at his fingers and he bites his lip. 

“Could come like this, but you’re here for something else, right?” Sam pants, pulling his eyes back to the camera. He doesn’t stop fingerfucking his ass, feeling the soft heat clenching around his knuckles, just adds another finger and moans at the stretch. “Betcha wanna see me take… something… a bit bigger.”

He presses his fingers tight into his hole, rubs against his prostate and moans as he reaches his other hand out, grabs the dildo standing on the stand. It’s as long as he is, thick as his wrist, and he doesn’t think about how he’d picked it for its resemblance to Dean as he brings it to his lips. The position isn’t the most comfortable, but his tests showed him that it gets his face in frame without losing his ass, lets the audience see him wrap his lips around the thick mushroom head of his dildo while his fingers continue to thrust and stretch in his hole. The chemical taste of the fake dick is familiar, hours of practice for his own sake and he’d never planned to show off on camera but it is what it is. Slowly, carefully, he pushes the dildo into his mouth, opening his throat for it, doesn’t stop until the balls are pressed against his chin and he’s gagging on the length down his throat.

When he pulls it out, it’s glistening with spit. He’s gasping for air and his eyes won’t focus. His lips feel swollen when he licks them, tries to speak and has to cough to clear his throat. “Need it now,” Sam manages to say, and he pulls his fingers out of his hole, teases around the rim with the cock. “Need you so much…”

Sam struggles to relax as he pushes the head against his hole, pushes out against it, gasps and pants and whines until it finally pops through the ring of muscle, then lays there, clenching around the shaft until the burn of toothicktoomuch subsides. He fumbles for the lube, finds the bottle in the rumpled blankets where he dropped it, drips more slick onto the dildo and pushes it in farther. His back arches as he gets the toy deeper, each fraction of an inch a struggle. It’s his first time fucking himself with anything other than fingers and he’s almost sobbing with the pleasurepain of it, tears streaming down his cheeks. “De…” 

did i say that out loud?

It doesn’t matter. He’s got the whole of it inside him, filling him more than he’s ever been, and he wants more. Wants to feel weight on top of him, pressing him into the mattress, wants someone else pulling the thick shaft out and thrusting it back in, wants to feel hips pressing into his, swiveling the way he used to see Dean swivel in girls. All he’s got is his hand and a heavy chunk of silicone, so he gets a good grasp on the balls and starts thrusting and grinding the dick into him.

what would dean do

He wraps his other hand around his own cock, squeezing tight at the base, stroking himself roughly in time to the thrusts. His hips jerk back onto the dildo and forward into his fist and he throws his head back, bites back a howl and turns it into a long, low moan. It’s hard to keep a rhythm and he gives up on that, focuses on the feel of being stretched wide and stuffed, grinds back to try and get it just a little deeper, and his vision goes white as he comes harder than he ever has, spattering up his chest and he feels a few drops land on his chin before he collapses, boneless, on the bed.

Sam takes several tries to roll over, pushing himself up on his elbows and knees, but he finally gets in the studio-requested position and lets the dildo slide slowly out of his slicked-up ass, lets the camera linger on his gaping, puffy hole for a long minute before standing up with a groan, walking on shaky legs to turn off the camera. He pulls out the tape before he can chicken out, shoves it in the pre-addressed envelope and wipes himself off before getting dressed and heading out to drop the envelope in the mail, and he resolutely doesn’t think about it as he heads back to the showers to scrub himself clean.

-

Dean pulls the package out of the PO box and tries to pretend he’s doing this for noble reasons as he shoves $5k of pool hustling and poker cash in an envelope to mail to Stanford. Tries to pretend he’s gonna destroy the tape without watching it, tries to ignore the fact that the last tape was worn out from watching it before he finally broke it in pieces and burned it by the side of the road.

But if Sammy’s desperate enough for money that he’s willing to do this, Dean’s gonna make damn sure no one sees what’s supposed to be his. And if he does watch the videos Sam sends “the studio” a few times (a few hundred times) before getting rid of them, well… Dean figures he’s paid good money for these, and it’d be a shame to waste it.

[markleesthighs]

good 4 u

pairing: guitarist/singer!y/n (fem) x badboy!jeno

genre: angst, fluff (if you squint), smut, strangers to lovers to enemies

song: good 4 u by Olivia Rodrigo

a/n: mentions of cheating, breakup, depression, underaged drinking (please be safe!!) picture/GIF from @pureboyjun​

Everyone told you to watch out, everyone warned you about him, Lee Jeno. You and Jeno weren’t in the same friend group, you were as what society called an “art freak” with streaks of colors in your hair and black eyeliner. You also always kept guitar picks with you, always wanting to sneak into the music room and practice on the electric guitar. The wannabe’s compared you to an Avril Lavigne-type girl. Your best friends were also your bandmates, supportive of you and your dream, unlike your parents. You and your parents had a deal, as long as you kept good grades you could continue to play music as a “hobby.” 

You also worked at a music store, which is how you ran into Lee Jeno. He was looking for vinyl of a specific artist which happened to also be one of your favorites so you knew exactly where it was. He thanked you and you hoped that would be the last you’d see him. But he came in every day to talk to you and eventually had the courage to approach your lunch table. All your bandmates glared at Lee Jeno, knowing his reputation and his motives. Once he left they’d all trash him for trying to talk to you. 

“y/n you shouldn’t really associate with him.”

“Yeah, all of his ‘fangirls’ will tear you to shreds.”

“Jeno hits and runs, you better stop talking to him before it turns into something dangerous. You’ll only get hurt.”

You didn’t think much of their words, since Jeno wasn’t really your type anyway. There’s no way you could ever fall for him. Oh boy, were you wrong. Jeno went out of his way to swoon you in any way he could. He’d walk you home at night, visit you in the music room and at work, he’d even invite you to his lunch table where you’d be met with his other ‘bad boy’ friends. He would get you your favorite coffee, just the way you like it, and get your lunch order so you wouldn’t wait in line. All of this attention grabbed the attention of his fangirls, constantly threatening you about how “Jeno is mine!” and bullshit like that. You honestly didn’t care because you reassured them you and Jeno were not dating. 

That was until he invited you to a party, saying that you could meet his one friend that was also into music and could help you break out into the music industry. You agreed, excited to meet someone in the industry. When you arrived at the party, you met his friend who worked at Columbia Records, you bonded and everything got his contact information in hopes of getting an internship. Jeno met up with you again, asking you to repay him, in a game of fear pong (beer pong with truth or dare elements). You agreed, joining him on his team against Johnny and his girlfriend. One of the dares you guys had to do was make out for one minute or drink. You were about to drink when Jeno grabbed your face and started to make out with you. 

God, did he taste good. His lips were soft brushing against yours the taste of beer and light cigarette smoke made his lips only more addictive. Everyone watching was hooting and hollering at the two of you. Jeno licked the bottom of your lip, which you opened your mouth to let his tongue enter, causing your tongues to fight for dominance. Jeno’s ultimately dominated and touched your throat. You gave a small moan which only made Jeno kiss you harder. Johnny coughed causing you two to stop. 

“You realize you two were making out for like 5 minutes right?” Johnny laughed.

You pulled away but Jeno held on to you by your waist. 

“What can I say, Suh, she tastes really good, I wanted to savor it.”

That made you blush. You guys continued the game and you and Jeno won, out of excitement (and slight intoxication) you kissed Jeno. He looked at you in shock and you apologized before he kissed you back. Since that game, you two were attached to the hip the whole night. Jeno didn’t feel safe letting you go home so he let you sleep with him in a bedroom upstairs. When you guys were tucking in for the night he wrapped his arm around you pulling you closer to him. 

“y/n, I love you.”

You giggled “You’re drunk Jeno...get some rest.”

“No, I mean it.”

“You’re really funny.”

“Do you need me to prove it to you?” He spoke in a deep voice, shifting his body to hover above yours. 

“If I didn’t love you do you think I’d be feeling like this right now?” Jeno whispered into your ear. When he leaned down you felt his member rock hard against your thigh. 

“J-jeno, you’re confused, do you know what you’re doing right now?”

“If you want me to stop I’ll stop. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, I can take care of myself in the bathroom if you don’t want to do it.”

As Jeno was moving off your body you wrapped your arms around his body to pull him back.

“N-no, stay, please.”

“Are you sure y/n, you sure you want to do this?”

“Y-yes.” Little did you know that you would regret sleeping with Lee Jeno. 

Jeno kissed your lips softly, knowing how tired you both are. You felt his member twitching with every kiss. He moved on to your neck, leaving soft kisses and a purple mark on your collarbone. He moved all the way down your stomach down to your flower. He kissed your thighs and ate you out vigorously, he was sucked down on your clit while fingering you. You were trying to hide your moans but Jeno hit your sweet spot almost every single time, causing you to not be able to contain yourself. You were tugging and pulling at his har which also caused him to moan. You were about to climax when Jeno pulled away which caused you to whine and pout. Jeno kissed your pouty lips as he pulled out a condom from the drawer (be safe kids!) and tore it open and put it on his member. 

He looked at you and asked again for your reassurance and you nodded. 

“I’ll be slow and gentle I promise.”

He slowly slid into you as you clenched around him you squeezed your eyes from the pain, he was a lot bigger than you thought. Jeno moans harmoniously along with you as he waited for you to let him move. 

“P-please m-move..”

Jeno smiled as with every thrust he kissed you, he made you feel comfortable in his arms. 

“F-faster, please...”

“What’s my name?”

“J-jeno! Please!”

“That’s daddy to you.” He said as he thrusted harder inside of you.

“Y-yes, daddy, please go faster.”

“Good girl.”

Jeno pushed harder and faster as you moaned louder and louder, finally climaxing with Jeno. Jeno removed the condom and threw it in the trash as he walked to the bathroom and cleaned you up along with a few kisses. 

“Hey Jeno?” Jeno turned to look at you.

“I love you too.”

After that night you and Jeno were going steady for a couple weeks until he ghosted you. He stopped talking to you and his friends would laugh at you or Jeno would tell you to go back to your old table. You heard their conversation as you were walking back. 

“I can’t believe Jeno got her to sleep with him.”

“Easiest fucking $100 he’s ever made.”

 When you went back to your bandmates you were broken. Endless nights of tears and suicidal thoughts swamped your mind. Why me? Why did I have to fall for his stupid trap? He only wanted me for some cheap cash huh? How can he just move on so easily? Did nothing we have mean anything? Well screw that and screw you, Lee Jeno. 

“Hey y/n?” One of your bandmates asked. 

“Battle of the bands' championship for the school is coming up, do you know what song we are going to cover?”

You looked at Jeno. “Oh, I fucking know what song we are going to sing.” 

You and your bandmates got the sheet music for good 4 u by Olivia Rodrigo and practiced it until it became natural for everyone. Finally, the battle of the bands' championship occurred. It was hosted by your school to fundraise for the music program and scholarships. Before your group came up, you all huddled, and they all gave you the words of encouragement you needed to perform in front of Lee Jeno. 

“Sing it from your heart bitch.”

“Kill him with those words.”

“Make him feel like the shit head he is.”

As they hyped you up, you felt much better as you all walked out to stand on the stage. You saw Jeno in the crowd with his new supposed girlfriend. You began playing the first notes on the guitar. 

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily You found a new girl and it only took a couple weeks Remember when you said that you wanted to give me the world?

You stared right into his eyes singing every lyric, letting him know what a scumbag he was for dating someone new in a few weeks when he confessed to you after he fucked your brains out. What kind of a person does that?

Now you can be a better man for your brand new girl

You raised your hand and pointed right at him and his new girl who looked like every other bitch who wanted to get with Jeno, you couldn’t compare to her, you had to show Jeno he made a mistake leaving you for $100. You wanted to make those $100 worth nothing because he left you for someone who’s only worth $1. 

Well, good for you, you look happy and healthy, not me If you ever cared to ask Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me, baby God, I wish that I could do that

You sang you heart out to those lyrics almost feeling emotional. How could Jeno sit there with a smile on his face while you almost crying during this set. You then realized Lee Jeno is an emotionless piece of shit. But just this once, you wanted to see him cry. 

I've lost my mind, I've spent the night Cryin' on the floor of my bathroom But you're so unaffected, I really don't get it But I guess good for you

It wasn’t fair that you cried endless tears, while Jeno came to school with a smile on his face. Your eyes would be dark and baggy from all the crying and endless sleep, but he came to school happier and brighter than ever, fuck you Lee Jeno. 

It's like we never even happened Baby, what the fuck is up with that?

Everyone forgot about you and Jeno the moment he dropped you. How come everyone took his side and let this slide past everyone? Did no one care about how you felt? How humiliated you were? How can someone forget something like that?

And good for you, it's like you never even met me Remember when you swore to God I was the only Person who ever got you? Well, screw that and screw you You will never have to hurt the way you know that I do

Jeno and you became strangers, nobodies, to each other just back at square one, how did this happen? He would complain about how his friends would make fun of his music tastes and hobbies, making you think you were the only one who understood him and supported him. You wanted to make him feel guilt and shame for toying with you. 

Maybe I'm too emotional But your apathy's like a wound in salt Maybe I'm too emotional Or maybe you never cared at all

You’ve thought about how you were the problem, that Jeno didn’t want you for you. He would act reassuring when you were in bed, but once he left you, he brushed off every concern you had. He never had any feelings for you. He never cared about you. 

Before the final chorus you pulled out a picture of you and Jeno printed out on paper and one of your bandmates set it on fire. The picture of Jeno’s face starting to well up with tears when everyone in the gym started to stare at him. It was music to your ears. 

Good for you, you're doin' great out there without me, baby Like a damn sociopath

You were now crying in the last chorus not out of sadness but out of joy, finally, Lee Jeno knows what it’s like to have his heartbroken. All of the other girls and guys were screaming and singing along with you, you were jumping and high-fiving all of them, rocking out to the music. Your mascara was dripping down your cheeks and you looked emotional and powerful. 

Well, good for you, I guess you moved on really easily

As you played the last chord on your guitar everyone was cheering. You thanked everyone for the performance as your group hugged your bandmates thanking them for getting you through the performance. You turned to look at Jeno one last time to see him crying. It was beautiful. 

good 4 u, Lee Jeno. 

[ltleflrt]

#33 for the prompt thing ❤️

33. On a post-it note (Also on AO3)

Dean is not an optimist.  How can he be, when life literally only hands him lemons?  Dead mom, deadbeat dad, a little brother who ran off to college half a continent away while Dean slogged through tech support calls to pay for what Sam’s fancy scholarship doesn’t cover.  Hell, he can’t even use the tuition reimbursement benefit from his own job because he works so much overtime to make ends meet.

And tech support is a miserable ass job.  Some days he wonders if it would be better for his mental health to quit this place and go turn tricks.  Maybe he could find himself a sugar daddy who’ll appreciate his pretty lips and perky nipples.  

When his watch beeps the one minute warning for the end of his break, he sighs mournfully over the loss of his fantasy daddy and the naps he’d get to take while not busy bending over for someone who actually appreciates the position he’s in.  Time to go back to the phones, and bend over for Corporate America instead.  

At least the insurance is good, and the 401k will be worth it someday.

And there’s Cas.

A smile ticks up Dean’s lips as he nears his desk and sees his boyfriend spinning back and forth in his chair, head tilted back on the seat, headset on and messing up the neat part Castiel’s hair had started the day with.  One of his long fingers is curling in and out of the headset cord, and he sounds far less bored than he looks as he walks his customer through installing a software update.

“Yes, ma’am it does take a few minutes.  There’s a lot of files to unpack.” Blue eyes look up as Dean sneaks past him to get to his own desk.  One eye drops closed in a wink.

Dean makes a kissy face at him as he settles down in his own chair and pulls his headset on.  Then he turns to his computer with another defeated sigh as he reaches for the keyboard to log in.  But he’s distracted by a neon green post-it with familiar handwriting.

Good things DO happen!

Unlike Dean, Castiel is optimistic as fuck.  

Rolling his eyes, Dean snatches up the post-it and crumples it into a ball.  He tosses it at Cas, nailing him right in the nose, and making him scramble for the mute button before his laughter bursts free.  

“Watch it, Winchester,” Cas murmurs into the space between their desks.  “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Ain’t scared,” Dean counters as he types in his login info.  He casts a glance at Castiel as his headphones beep and his automated greeting plays for the customer on the line.

Castiel beams back at him.  “Yes, ma’am, let the computer restart.”

Dean grins back, and the smile carries through in his voice as he begins his call.  He hopes this one gets a survey, because they’re going to be pleased as punch with him.  He always does great on his surveys now that he and Cas have stopped dancing around each other and actually made things official.  It’s been the best six months of his life, and not even the really nasty customers can completely bring him down.

He forgets all about Castiel’s threat until he comes in a few days later to find his desk plastered with post-its of all different colors.  They cover the monitor and the keyboard and his Cisco phone.  The whole tiny surface of his desk is covered in a rainbow of little flaps of paper.  They’re even all over his chair, even down to the wheels.  

His team members all cast him expectant looks, mostly with gleeful smiles.  Even Frank, his crotchety old bastard of a supervisor is grinning.  Kaia is holding up her phone, and he knows there’s going to be pictures or a video of his reaction plastered all over social media today.

“Hm, I wonder who did this,” Castiel says mildly from behind Dean.

“Very funny, Cas,” Dean mutters as he starts plucking post-its from the seat of his chair.  He’d like to be able to at least sit down while he cleans up this mess.  “How many pads did you go through for this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Castiel’s poker face belongs at a high stakes table in Vegas.  Even though it’s clearly his handwriting on the post-its, and his signature Good thinks DO happen! written all over them, Dean nearly almost believes him.  

With a disbelieving snort, Dean starts clearing away post-its.  He tries for all of thirty seconds to seem annoyed by the work, but he can’t hold back the dopey smile as he cleans up the mess.  

As he’s clearing the last of them from his monitor his hand freezes as he comes across one post-it that says something different from all the rest.  He plucks it from the monitor, and stares down at it.  Three little words, followed by a dorky little heart.  They haven’t said it to each other yet, but Dean knows he’s already there.  And his heart swells with affection as he holds the confirmation that the sentiment is returned pinched between his fingers.

He sticks it to the bottom of his monitor, where it’ll be easy to see, but out of his way.  And then he slides open his desk drawer and grabs a yellow pad of post-its.  He writes the words slowly, gently.  And then rolls his chair over into Castiel’s space.  He waits until Castiel looks up at him, and the shy smile on his face makes Dean even more sure that he means what he’s about to do.

He sticks the post-it right in the center of Castiel’s monitor.

I love you too, sweetheart <3

[mrwinterr]

Kissletoe

Pairing: College!Bucky Barnes AU x Female Reader

Summary: You’re not a fan of mistletoes. You think it’s an outdated Holiday tradition and an excuse for lovesick fools to steal a kiss. Unlucky for you, college parties are riddled with them this year and someone’s been trying to meet you under one all night.

Warnings: College shenanigans (no one cares in the real world). Smut 18+ (unprotected sex, vaginal penetration & fingering, oral [female receiving], handjob & attempted dirty talk/goofy sex?). Language. Mentions of drugs and alcohol. & bad Christmas pickup lines.

Title Inspiration: “Kissletoe” by 3OH!3

A/N: I’ve never been kissed under the mistletoe let alone attended a legit college party because I’ve been lame my whole life. 🔔 ‘Tis that season! 🎄 Happy Holidays, ya filthy, lovely readers! 🙋🏻‍♀️ Raise your hand if you’re on the naughty list this year! ❤️ Enjoy!

It’s the end of the college fall semester and for the majority of students, the only way to celebrate surviving finals week is to let loose and party, especially right before you’re all forced to go back home to visit family for the Holidays.

“Where do you think you’re going dressed like that?” You hear your friend and roommate Natasha ask.

You stop stuffing your belongings in a box and pause at her question to look down at your current attire - black leggings paired off with an oversized University college-style sweatshirt. You had your hair pulled up in a messy bun, your face clear of any make-up, and lastly your feet were clad in funky, fuzzy socks. This is what you normally wore inside the dorm around her, and you certainly didn’t need to dress to impress just to go home. What was she on about?

“Uh, home? Where else would I be going at the end of the semester?” You reply, an obvious answer.

“Don’t be a smartass,” she retorts, and is quick to follow up when she sees the knowing look on your face and mouth open to retaliate with an even sassy response, “and don’t even start!”

She knew you’d say something like you were exactly that, smart. You in fact had amazing grades and excelled in every course you’d enrolled in. You were confident that you’d aced your exams, so you’re not checking the portal every chance you could get to see if the professor had uploaded your grades yet.

“You’re not supposed to be leaving until Monday,” she reminded you.

“I know, but I mean, there’s no rule saying I had to stay here until then,” you clarify, continuing to pack up more of your things, “I’d rather much get a head start.”

“You’re that eager to get away from me, huh?” She says, feigning sadness.

“You’re the only thing I’m going to miss about college,” you assure her.

College was a different experience for everyone. It was an introduction to the real world. Some used it to start anew, to buckle down and make something of themselves, others used it as an extension to repeat four more years of high school.

You took your studies very seriously, especially if you wanted to maintain your scholarship. It was a known fact college wasn’t cheap and you were fortunate to be here on one. With all that aside, you still knew when to have some fun. After all, all work and no play, makes Jack a dull boy, right? You didn’t want to be that kind of person, you wanted to enjoy your college years, and luckily you had almost a polar opposite friend in Natasha to level you out.

“We just survived another week of finals,” she states, and grabbing your arms to stop you for just one second, “what better way to celebrate than partying?”  

She sees the conflicted look in your eyes, and can tell you’re weighing out the pros and cons. There were a lot of cons: you’d be surrounded by tons of people, most of which were going to be drunk as fuck or high out of their minds on whatever substance was passed around and the threat of getting taken advantage of by some stranger. The pros? You had some steam to let off and this was a chance to gather and see some of your other friends before the Holiday break. ‘Tis the season, right?

“I guess you’re right,” you start, beginning to compromise, “why not? It’ll be like a little send off,” you decide, throwing in a shrug, and that was it.

“We’re college kids, it’s our right,” Natasha shrugs, before digging into one of your boxes and pulling out one of your cute dresses. You could always count on her to help look good too.  

When you both take the short walk to the house, where tonight’s party would be taking place, you abruptly halt at the end of the front porch steps, breaking your locked arms with Natasha.

“Jesus, what’s wrong?” She curses lightly as she almost trips backwards.

“This house…” you start, taking a step back and look up to inspect it, squinting, as if that would do you any good in the dark.

“Yeah?” She asks, a little too impatient, obviously hiding something.

“It’s familiar,” you continue, still trying to find out why it was so. Usually, that wasn’t a good thing...

“Come on. What are you talking about? It’s just a house. Don’t think too much and have fun tonight!” She says, stomping back down the steps and grabbing your arm to drag you up towards the front door.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, giving up again. What were you so worried about?  

“Aren’t I always?” She comments, and is, again, quick to shut you down when she sees you open your mouth. She presses her finger to the doorbell just as your mouth closes, and you both await the host.

You look off to the side and stare at the Greek letters tacked onto the wall. You knew you weren’t going to let it go on trying to find out why this house looked so familiar. Then, just when you’ve figured it out, your eyes widen in realization, the grip around your arm intertwined with Natasha’s tightens, feeling your attempt to slip away. The door swings open and the voice that booms out of the person, verifies your answer.

“Well, well, well...the weather outside sure is frightful, but this,” Bucky Barnes starts out singing before looking only in your direction, “oh, seeing you, is so delightful,” ending in a somewhat serious note.

“God, I hate winter,” you comment off to the side. It earns you a jab from Natasha, silently asking you to play nice.

He greets Natasha and easily lets her slip past him into the house. You call out her name, appalled that she left you alone with Bucky. Wasn’t that some rule? Never leave your friends alone at a Frat party.

“You look beautiful,” Bucky says sincerely when it’s just the two of you, to which you don’t respond, but roll your eyes. You didn’t come here to get seduced or hit on, but nonetheless shiver, and logically you could blame it on the cold weather and not the way that comment from him made you feel, then attempt to get inside the warm house.

"Excuse me,” he says, holding out his arms on either side of the door frames, blocking your entrance both ways, “where is my Christmas kiss?“ he asks, leaning in close to you.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You ask incredulously and back away. You owed him no such thing, but when you see the sly smirk on his lips, and his head signal for you to look up, you discover a traditional mistletoe hanging right above your heads.

Bringing your head back to its regular position, you look him dead in the eyes, “I’m not going to kiss you under the mistletoe, Barnes,” you scoff at his attempt to smooch you.

“Why not?” He presses, shuffling his weight from one leg onto the other, and before you can even give him an answer, you both hear your name being shouted from behind him. Bucky whips his head back and you do your best to look over his shoulder.

It came from your friend Wanda, who was excitedly waving you over to her. You smile and wave back at her, internally grateful that luck was on your side at this moment. Bucky turns back around and stares at you, wondering how to pick back up on your conversation, but when he doesn’t come up with anything, he sighs defeatedly, drops his arms and finally lets you in.

You make your way over to Wanda engulfing her with a huge hug. Natasha was close by, sipping on her drink. You’ll grill her later for leaving you alone with Bucky. She knew not to do that, but she did it at every chance she got. Now, you knew why she brought you to this specific house party.

“You weren’t planning on leaving without a proper farewell, were you?” Wanda asked worriedly. You immediately pieced together that Natasha had ratted you out on your attempt to leave campus and head back home early.

“It’s not forever, Wan,” you assure her. It was literally only for a few weeks, but while everyone would probably only be a few hours away from each other or a few states apart different, Wanda would be flying back to her home country to spend the Holidays with her family. You’ll admit, you could’ve been a little more considerate and sensitive.

“I’ll still miss you,” she says, the admission melting your heart, not even thinking about how the separation would be on others.

“She’s right, it’s not forever,” Natasha interjects, not allowing for any sad vibes on your last few hours of the semester together, “let’s make some memories tonight,” she says before handing you a drink.

Bucky, as hard as he tried to cover it up, rejoins his group of friends, Steve and Sam, sulking. He’d gotten you alone again, but failed, and he vowed to never give up. He had a crush on you, simple as that, but you were playing hard to get, and all this time spent on playing cat and mouse when you could be doing other things.

“Man, just save yourself from any further embarrassment and give up,” Sam tells him while also handing him a drink of his own, which Bucky accepts and quickly takes a swig from.

“Never,” he said, determined and slightly winces at the burn in his throat, his body almost warming in an instant, “I’m gonna get my Holiday kiss.”

“Why do you even care? You’re usually not one behind this Holiday shit,” he asks, looking around the crowded room.

“I’m not, but it gives me a reason to get close to her,” Bucky admits pathetically, staring into the red solo cup before taking the last swig, crushing it in his hand and air balling it to the trash.

“Dude!” Steve chastises him about adding onto the mess they’d have to clean afterwards, to which Bucky shrugs at.

“You can’t expect her to just kiss anyone under the mistletoe,” Steve reminds him. He knew it wasn't an easy conquest for any guy to gain your affection.

“I’ve been a good boy this year, alright, I’m gonna get her to see what she’s been looking for has been in front of her this whole time,” Bucky says trying not to sound or look as predatory as he watched you disappear into the kitchen with your friends.

You suppose the saying rules were meant to be broken, were taken a bit too literal by your friends, even college party rules because you’re left alone again. Wanda had abandoned the trio for some alone time with her boyfriend, who everyone dubbed Vision or Vis for short due to how outrageously innovative he was. Natasha decided to partake in a classic game of beer pong, something you incredibly sucked at, so there was no way she was going to recruit you as her partner nor were you interested in standing there awkwardly watching the game go on.

Surprisingly, the only place that seemed to be of a quiet enough spot to think was the backyard patio. You could see there was a fire lit and some other students scattered or sprawled on the grass. Quickening your pace, you manage to claim a vacant lawn chair next to the fire and hope you’d stay warm and at peace.

There you start to think that being in attendance tonight would’ve made no difference. Natasha was just good at persuading you into things. Call it peer pressure or whatever, but you put your faith and trust in her to not believe she’d ever steer you in the wrong direction, so why were you so bothered being here?

“You know, refusing to kiss someone under the mistletoe is bad luck,” you hear the voice of the reason why.

“I don’t believe in that bullshit,” you respond, watching as he plops down on the empty seat next to you.

“Really? Then why haven’t you been out on a date in so long?” he asks tauntingly.

“How would you know?” You ask a bit offended.

Why was he so concerned about your love life? You were never close with Bucky growing up and if anyone was of an impression you were, it was only because of Steve, who welcomed everyone, and that included you when you moved into the neighborhood when you were a little girl.

All throughout elementary school, until things started developing, puberty probably, it further separated you from Bucky. Steve blossomed a little later in life, so it helped solidify a good friendship with him, the same couldn’t be said for Bucky. You didn’t hate him, just got annoyed by his harmless teasing.

“I’ll have you know I have other priorities,” your attempt at an excuse was subtle, but you didn’t owe him an explanation anyways.

“Sure,” he says in a tone that suggests he didn’t believe you.

You watch as he lights up a cigarette, takes a small drag, and the cloud of smoke puffing out from his lips. He notices your stare and digs into his coat pocket, fishing out the pack before offering you one. You accept and pluck one out of the carton, he follows up with sticking out his lighter and you lean in closer to him to place the end of your stick against the flame.

You weren’t going to deny the relieving effect the nicotine had running through your body. College was stressful and while you weren’t one to abuse substances, a hit every now and then helped calm your nerves.

“So why is it you won’t kiss anyone under the mistletoe?” He asks, leaning back on the plastic chair, his head turning to the side, full attention on you.

He was enchanted by the girl, who grew up into a beautiful young woman, sitting next to him, slowly killing herself with every inhale and exhale of the cigarette between her lips, but you weren’t just attractive to Bucky, you were every bit incredible to him. You were smart, helpful, loyal to your friends and he was just misguided sometimes in life that led you to astray from him.

“It’s just an excuse for guys to steal a kiss from some poor girl...for lonely people to fake love,” you said almost bitterly.

Truth was, you had a bitter experience with a guy who’d led you on in high school after accidentally hearing that he could bet his friends he could get you to make out with him and he’d do so by using a mistletoe as a ruse.

Bucky detected some distaste in your response but decides not to interrogate you on it any further. There’d been a lot of growing up between the two of you since you’d both been estranged during your teenage years, and certain life events were missed on either party. So, where did you both stand in each other's lives now? You weren’t sure if you could call each other friends. It wasn’t easy to avoid Bucky, what with all the mutual friends and classes you shared, including the same street back home.

“I didn’t throw this party just to see everyone before they leave or to celebrate the end of finals,” he reveals, after several, somber minutes of silence, the cigarettes in your hands quickly burning out.

“Then why did you?” You ask curiously, meeting his gaze.

“To see you,” he simply admits. It was vague.

“How’d you even know I’d show up?” You quiz him.

“Because I begged Natasha to convince you,” he freely says, exposing his plan.

You were a smart person, but you couldn’t figure Bucky out. Why would he do that? Or for that matter, say something like that. What was his endgame here?

“Tis the fuckin’ season,” you comment offhand, getting up from the seat to leave. You stomp out your cigarette and prepare to head back inside and bid your farewells.

You’re just about to step through the threshold, when you feel a large hand wrap around your arm, halting you in place in the middle of the sliding screen door.

“Am I really that bad?” He inquires, and you know he’s not asking about just kissing him under the mistletoe anymore. Bucky always wore his heart on his sleeve, no matter how tough he appeared to be. It fooled a lot of people, sometimes you included, but in this moment, he seemed to genuinely be concerned about your perspective about him.

You were too grown to blame how the course of your relationship with Bucky had gone south on silly teenage phases. You knew it was much deeper than that, it was how sad it made you feel.

You’d harbored a small crush on him back then and it was cruel to see him grow into a handsome, charming guy and go out with other girls. He never showed an interest in you in the past and it was getting exhausting trying to get his attention, it was proving to be a distraction in your life, so it was then you’d vowed to focus on yourself and the life ahead of you, a life that didn’t revolve or involve Bucky.

However, a part of you, the risky and impulsive part of you, said you had less than a handful of months left before you were set to walk the stage and graduate. If you did what you were about to do, you could avoid Bucky for just one more semester, then you’d move far, far away and most likely never see him again. With a quick glance up, you give in to the idea of this side of you, lean in and plant your lips on Bucky’s soft ones.

Bucky is left dumbfounded, eyes still half closed when you pull away. He was shocked, caught off guard, and you by a totally different notion. You like him, you’ve always liked him.

It was a decent kiss if anyone would’ve caught it, at least you hoped it appeared it was, and that Bucky could convince you of it being so…

“You said kissing under the mistletoe is for lonely people to fake love...so then why do I feel so alive?” he asks you in a daze.

He doesn't succeed in convincing you.

How you’d both managed to move past that scene at the doorway without raising suspicion was beyond you two. The fact you both found a vacant room was an even more impressive feat at the moment.

“You better have locked that door,” you say, attempting to make it sound like a threat, but with you underneath him, you were anything but.

Shoes scattered along the pathway to the bed, his thick jacket following in suit. You’d managed to pull your lips back from his, but he couldn’t keep his off of yours as they trailed from the corner of your lips, along your jawline and down your neck. You feel his tongue drag just along your pulse, causing your hips to thrust up. You let out a moan at what you felt through his jeans and how he started sucking and nibbling over the spot he’d licked.

“Why? Don’t want everyone finding out how naughty you actually are?” He questions back teasingly with a cocky grin, and as he tugs at the sleeves of his unbuttoned shirt.

You don’t have a comeback for him, but instead you lightly shove him back and try to escape from underneath, hoping to get through to him and show you’re in fact serious. The last thing you wanted was for any of your friends to walk in on you two in the act.

“Relax!” He says, also sitting up and reaching out and pulling you back to him, “I locked it,” he assures, leaning in closer, “not even Santa will know what we’re doing,” then his lips reclaim yours, his tongue delving in your mouth. You’re once more on your back, lips locked and heavy. Had you known kissing Bucky was this good, you’d have kissed him earlier.

Bucky’s hands run up your thighs, snake their way underneath, you feel his fingers ghost over your scantily clad pussy. The tingling sensation causes the feeling in the pit of your stomach to brew.

“You want me to touch you?” He asks huskily while still pecking your lips.

“Yes,” you almost immediately answer, desperate for his touch.

“How bad?” Oh, he knows how bad, but he had so much fun watching you crumble.

“Bucky,” you start to whine.

“Tell me...how bad do you want me to touch you,” he repeats slowly.

“Fuck you,” you bite back. He was really going to make you say it, “I want you to touch me so bad...please, Bucky,” you quickly give in.

Bucky rewards you with a deep kiss as you feel him hook a finger on the thin slit of your panties and pull them to the side. He runs a long finger between your folds, and he pulls his lips away to inhale sharply.

“You’re so wet,” he states the obvious, bringing that same hand up to his lips to lick the pad of his thumb so he could start rubbing circles on your clit. You bite your lip and stare at him, he’s watching you carefully, loving how hard you’re trying to hold back.

“You want to be a good girl?” He asks, and you nod, “then don’t hold back. Stop fighting me, and I’ll make you come hard with just my fingers,” he bargains. You want to call him on his bluff, but he’s the one with the upper hand - literally. “But first…,” he starts, sitting up on his knees, hands back at his sides so he could scoot down lower on the bed, “...I want to taste this pussy,” his voice deep, and almost dangerous.

He pushes the end of your dress up, bunching it at the waist, to reveal your cute underwear. He pauses for a split second, “Holiyay indeed” he says to himself, reading the embezzled design on the front of your thong. You don’t even roll your eyes in annoyance anymore, because maybe if you kept quiet and submissive enough, you’ll finally get to come.

When he rids you of the garment, Bucky uses his fingers to spread your wet lips before running his tongue flat against it, only narrowing out when it reaches your clit. He spends a little more time at your there, circling it with his tongue, lightly kissing and sucking at it. His fingers start rubbing you, tracing the rim of the opening, while his mouth was still busy at work.

You're all but writhing from the buildup, your chest heaving up and down, stomach clenching tight from his doing, not prepared for when he inserts a finger inside your wet hole. You audibly gasped and reached a hand towards him, but he swats it away. You dare pick your head up to watch, and you’re met with his eyes, full of lust, looking up at you, but his mouth still latched onto your pussy. You can feel his finger slide in and out of you slowly, your mouth open displaying how good he’s making you feel.

In fact, it’s too good you’re not in control of your legs anymore as they kick and squirm at the feeling he’s bestowing on you, so he removes his finger away from you only to maneuver into a position where he could hook his arms under legs and basically slam your back down on the bed. You unconsciously start chanting his name, like a silent prayer for him to touch you down there again.

Your head is a little fuzzy, body on fire; you want to burst. Unable to pick up your head, you cast your eyes down on him just in time to see him spit on your already soaking cunt. You watch as he uses his fingers to spread the wetness all over before slipping two fingers inside of you.

The intrusion causes you to groan and back to arch, and you can’t help but grab at any part of the arm that his hand going to work on you, just making sure it doesn't go away until it gets the job done. He chuckles lightly at your eagerness with your hips bucking up at his palm.

“I promised I’d let you come, right?” He points out, which you nod fervently, loosen your grip and attempt to keep your hips at bay, so he could fulfill his promise. You feel his finger push in about knuckle-deep and curl inside, causing you to choke out a dry sob. You begin to bite your lip, hard, when he does it again and again.  

Your hands are on autopilot, trying to heighten the pleasure your body was being coursed with, and they grab handfuls of your breasts, still confined in your dress. You squeeze and squish them together, anything to help you find that release sooner. Bucky’s gaze catches onto your moves and licks at his lips, the sight of your breasts threatening to spill out offers him a taste of what’s still yet to be unwrapped.

He speeds up his efforts, they’re proven efficient as you start clenching tight around his fingers, your arousal also coating the palm of his hand. He whispers tiny praises as you try to recover from the first orgasm. You swallow the lump in your throat and run your hands over your face, almost dazed and bewildered that Bucky was capable of pulling something like that out of you.  

Your legs fall limp on the bed, the silence broken by Bucky, “such a sweet pussy,” he compliments, and you take a peek between your fingers to see his fingers pop out of his mouth from sucking his digits clean.

“Do you want to unwrap your gift?” He asks, crawling over to you. You manage to sit up, your body supported by your propped elbows, so Bucky is slightly hovering over you. You nod at his question and he brings one hand behind your head to swoop you in for a sweet kiss. You use both hands to hold his face in place to make the kiss last just a little longer.

Bucky reluctantly pulls away though so he could grab at the bunched fabric of your dress and pull it over your head, leaving you completely bare in front of him. He swears, eyes running over every part of you before sitting upright on his knees again.

You lean in and reach with both hands to unbuckle his belt, the clinking of metal sounding loud, button popping off in haste, and dragging the zipper down. You yank down at his fitted jeans to reveal the imprint of his hard cock under his boxer briefs. Fuck, he was big, that much you could see. You couldn’t keep your grabby hands away as you palm him through the fabric, his cock twitching at the indirect contact.

“Take it out,” he instructs, and you look up perilously at him, eyes begging him to confirm, “...it’s yours, baby girl,” and it was all the assurance you needed to peel his boxers down.

You wrap your hands around his length and start pumping him languidly. He was already hard and no doubt fully erect, but you immediately found how good it felt in your hands. With every pump, his pre-cum pools at the head, and with each trip your hands make up to the tip, they travel back down with the substance, effectively lathering him up and making him slick enough for an easy entry.

“I want to fuck you so bad,” he admits when you give his member an experimental squeeze, your fingers curl around him, the tips grazing along his balls.

Leaning in to place light kisses to his pecs, you look up at him, “well, you’ve been a good boy, so do it,” you say, hands retreating as you lie back down, “...fuck me, Bucky.”

Bucky lets out a low growl, kicks his bottoms away, and climbs back on top of you. He reaches down to grab his cock and starts running it up and down the length of your sex, causing your body to shudder. You could feel the ridges and just how hard he got before he slowly slid his cock inside. There’s a tiny sting on his entrance as his thick cock stretches your walls.

“Mmm, baby, it’s cold outside,” he starts playfully singing, “...but you, you’re so warm,” kissing your cheek, getting you to relax; not realizing you had held your breath trying to bear through the initial pain, “...and so wet,” he says pulling out with a lewd noise, before thrusting all the way back in, bottoming out.  

He starts off sweet and slow, and while you liked that on some occasion, now wasn’t one of them. Bucky’s cock probed at your spot almost instantly and you found out you didn’t want to prolong the euphoric ending. His hands slip around your smaller frame, pulling your body up, closer to his, while his hips moved in waves crashing harder and harder into yours.

His face buried into the mattress next to your face, you hear his breathy moans, and you love that he doesn’t hold them back the slightest. Who didn’t like to hear how good the other person was making them feel, right? You grip and pull at his hair, while the other gabs at his buttocks, feeling it flex with each snap of his hips, and your legs tangled with his. Sweat that had built up on your bodies make the movements sloppy, muscles beginning to ache, both of you were about to peak.

“God, you feel so good,” he says, picking his head up, his hair matted and messy, he still looked sexy, “...you gonna come all over my cock now?” His words fuel you and your hips start driving into his, making him eat his own words, “fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum!”

“Yes, Bucky,” you coo, your hands gripping his sides, loving the feeling of his hard body, slick and warm to the touch, “...come,” you try coaxing him, but one particular thrust rips right through you and your walls start clenching him tighter than the fit.

You only finish the command when you’re riding the waves of the aftershock, “come on, Bucky, I want it...inside, please.” You definitely picked up on the fact that he liked to hear you beg and be specific with your wants.

Bucky soon stills, spurts of his hot cum splatter your walls that continue to flutter around his cock. His climax spreads warmth all over your lower body. Your limbs, both arms and legs, wrap around his exhausted body. He carefully drops his bodyweight on you, mindful of not suffocating you in the process.

When he’s regained regular breathing, using one of his hands, he reaches behind him in search of yours before interlocking your fingers and just holding it, you hold onto each other. Bucky picks up his head and stares at your hand in his, you follow his gaze and join him. They fit with one another perfectly, and even so, the light squeeze he gives it, lets you know it also felt right.

“Well, where have you two been?” Sam says loudly, announcing you and Bucky’s arrival, rejoining your group of friends. Wanda and Vision close to each other, his arm around her frame, Natasha standing in between Sam and Steve, a refilled cup in each of their hands.

“I have been trying to escape this crazed man all night,” you playfully exaggerate.

“And yet you’ve managed to keep failing,” Bucky chimes in smugly, a cute smirk running across his features. This unearthed feeling testing your willpower to keep up with appearance and show resistance.

“Yeah, no thanks to my so-called friends,” pinning the blame on the two females in the room. Wanda turns red, guilty and slightly awful for abandoning you, but Natasha has a different reaction. She’s got that knowing smile on her face. It’s small, but very strong.

You watch as her eyes divert to the ceiling, you follow her gaze and then when you both look back at each other, the smile on her face turns into a full-blown smirk. There’s a collective sound of “oh’s” from everyone, noting the mistletoe above you and Bucky.

Turning to Bucky, who looks like he doesn’t know what to do, just stands there staring at you, not knowing what to expect. You’re supposed to act like nothing happened or reveal anything to your friends just yet, so he mentally prepares for a rebuttal to your impending rejection or insult to kiss him. Nothing could’ve prepared him for what you do instead.

You place a hand on the back of his neck and pull him down to you and smash your lips together. Bucky’s hands immediately grab a hold of your hips, he’d have to get used to the lightheaded feeling when he’s close to you.

The kiss is slow and probably not appropriate to be deemed as a simple traditional mistletoe kiss, but you both can’t help it and continue to allow your lips to slide against one another’s before there’s a rise of cheers, whistling and howls around you, shattering the bubble.

When you pull apart, you reluctantly walk away from Bucky and head to where Natasha stood, steal the cup from her hand and finish off the remainder of her drink, all while staring straight at her. She knew. Only when you’re done with the last sip, you give her the same small, sly smile. There are no words exchanged, and none needed.

“Guess, you have been a good boy this year, Barnes,” Sam jokes, but regardless is proud of his friend.

“Third time's the charm,” Bucky says casually, shrugging like it was no big deal, as if he hadn’t been desperately chasing you all night. You shake your head at his silliness, but nonetheless smile at him, your heart skipping a bit.

Who knew what you’d been looking for was hanging underneath the doorway staring at you face-to-face this whole time?

A/N: I can confidently say, I used one of these Christmas puns as a pickup line on a guy recently and it worked in my favor! Shoot your shot but stay safe in more than one way; these are them trying times. Also, the underwear thing is a real design I saw while looking through Victoria’s Secret sales…lol. 

🎁 Gift me a like, reblog, comment - anything, please! 🥺💖

[moldisgoodforyou]

on my mom's grave

wordcount: 3.7k

warnings: n/a

______

“How drunk do you think we’re going to get tonight?” Sophie asked, tipping back the last of a lemon White Claw as the two of them got ready for the night in her room.

“Dunno. I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

She paused, glancing back at him. “Do you not want to go?”

He shook his head and took the can from her, disappointed to realize there was nothing left. “No, no, it’s fine. I’m cool. Probably just won’t drink.”

“Is this about the phone call with your dad earlier?”

Rafe sighed, gritting his teeth. “It’s not - I’m fine, Soph.”

She crossed her arms and eyed him over, trying to get a read on his body language. “You’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” After Rafe tugged his shirt over his head, ready much faster than Sophie, he paced around the room for a few seconds before speaking up. "Hey, so...Sarah's getting presented at the annual deb ball in spring."

Sophie seemed unbothered, turning her back to him as she wrestled her way into a crop top to get ready for the night. "Those are still a thing? Cool, so you're going home for it?" She paused, glancing over at him in his polo. "Undo another button."

He did so, then rocked back on his heels with his hands in his pockets, trying to figure out what to say next.

She slowly turned back to him, realizing he was still tense across his shoulders. "What?"

Rafe rubbed the back of his neck, a tell-tale sign he was nervous and Sophie wasn't going to like what he was about to say. "Yeah...my dad wanted you to come home for it too."

"What? Ward? Why?"

"He, kinda, uh, wants you to be presented too?"

She just laughed, turning back to the mirror with her brow furrowed in slight concentration as she applied another coat of mascara. "Okay. Sure." But when he didn't elaborate, she turned back to him again, lips pursed. "Cameron. Tell me you told him no."

"...I didn't not not tell him no."

"Rafe."

He cracked under her stare. "I'm sorry, okay! Look, it's easy, all you have to do is throw on a pretty white dress and gloves -"

"A dress that costs thousands of dollars -"

"Hundreds, but - I'll cover you, obviously -"

"No." She turned back to the mirror, shaking her head. "Fuck no. I'm not going."

"Sophie." He nearly begged, stepping closer and running his hand through his hair. "Baby. C'mon."

"Don't call me that. No. I don’t fit into that part of your world.”

"Not even for me?" He pleaded, giving her a half-hearted grin. He ignored her last sentence, knowing any argument he had for her point would be dismissed in two seconds. "I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important, you know that."

She turned back to him with crossed arms, fixing him with a glare. "Do I know that?"

"Soph."

"Don't, Rafe." She warned, holding one hand out, but he stepped closer anyways.

"Angel. Please. For me." He forced a smile, tried cracking a joke. "I really don't want to have to call him up and get read the riot act."

She furrowed her brow and Rafe reached out and smoothed out the lines in between her eyebrows before he could stop himself, making her soften just a little. "If I were to say yes. What would I have to do?"

"Just wear the dress, attend a dinner, party the night before and party that night." He paused, thinking. "And stay at my house for the weekend. Be civil to my dad.” At her eyeroll, he fixed her with a more serious gaze. “Meet my grandparents. Hang with my sisters. C'mon, Wheezie adores you."

"You're lying."

"I'm not. She thinks you're cool. Sarah too, but she’s less likely to admit it." He kissed her forehead, hands going to her waist. "Please?"

"It's that important?"

"I swear. On my mom's grave."

Sophie frowned immediately, reaching up to fix his hair. "That's not necessary."

"You'll do it?"

"...Yes." When he made a small fist pump, she fixed him with a glare. "Only because I love you."

“I'll go down on you every night for the next two weeks -”

She rolled her eyes at his promise, shoving lightly at his chest. "You basically already do that anyways, Rafe -”

"Okay, fine, I'll tie you up, something, anything, god, thank you, Soph. You don't know how big of a favor this is. I mean it." He sighed in relief, the tension draining from his body.

She ignored him, turning back to the mirror to apply lip gloss, carefully smearing the wand across her lips. “Why does he want me to do this? I don’t understand.”

“Is that the sticky stuff? I hate that stuff, it gets all over me when we’re kissing -” He started, then quickly shut his mouth as she flipped him off without looking. “Uh, ‘to integrate you into our society.’ Direct quote.”

“Oh god.” She groaned, setting the lip gloss aside after applying it, then started searching through her jewelry case. “So I’m gonna have to be on my best kook behavior?”

He snorted. “Sophie Flint, a kook. Not likely.”

“Watch it.” She pointed a warning finger in his face. “You don’t see anything weird with this? Your dad hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“Rose does.”

“That’s not true either.”

Sophie raised her eyebrows, challenging him.

He shrugged, relenting with a sigh. “You’re not her favorite person, no, but neither am I.”

“You think this was more her idea? For Sarah to do it too?”

“Nah, actually, pretty sure it was my grandparents’ idea. Probably Granddad. My mom went through all this, so…”

She turned her back to him and gathered her hair, offering the clasp of her gold chain to him. “Your mom was a debutante?” She questioned with interest.

_______

Rafe rarely ever talked about his mom - Sophie had only found out how she died from a newspaper article in the online archives, and hadn’t wanted to bring it up since. All she knew was that Mrs. Cameron had passed away in a car accident when Rafe was fourteen.

Both Sophie and Rafe’s schools shared a building, despite them going to private academies, and overlapped for certain advanced placement classes. In freshman year, they were together for AP chemistry, with Sophie sitting proudly at the front of the class while Rafe sat in the back with a group of his friends, often cracking jokes at inappropriate times or throwing wads of paper at each other. Freshman year Sophie was the epitome of stuck-up - she resorted to insults instead of making friends and kept to herself, terrified someone might find out that she was on scholarship and wasn’t truly meant to be there.

The day after the car accident, Rafe was unusually quiet. Sophie hadn’t heard the news yet, it was barely second period and she wasn’t looped into the trail of gossip like the rest of the girls at Greenville. They were partnered for an experiment that day - Rafe had groaned when he heard Sophie’s name after his from the teacher, and Sophie barely suppressed a roll of her eyes. She took charge right away, getting all the supplies and set up their work station without even addressing him. After a few minutes, she slid the small glass of solution to Rafe, raising her eyebrows. “You can do the work too, you know.”

He was completely spaced out, only glancing up when she said something. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Sophie rolled her eyes, lifting a beaker and extending it to him. “Yeah. I know. Just drop in 10 milliliters of the solution, it’s not hard.”

Rafe sighed as he rested his elbows on the edge of the table, rubbing his temples. “Look, can you just do it?”

She finally took note of the dark circles under his eyes, the way his shoulders were slumped, but misinterpreted it all. She smirked, taking on a taunting tone. “What, you’re still drunk from last night or something?”

He gritted his jaw, his entire body growing tense, and tugged at the collar of his polo. “Fuck off, Flint. Not in the mood today.”

She recoiled immediately, setting the beaker down with a little too much force. “Don’t be an asshole.”

“Don’t be a fucking bitch.” He spit back, standing abruptly. She winced as the stool squeaked across the floor, drawing everyone’s attention - as if they hadn’t had it already. Kelce stepped over and went to grab Rafe’s arm, possibly pull him away, but Rafe just wrenched his arm out of his grip. “I’m fine.” He growled, storming out of the classroom without looking back.

After a few moments of stunned silence, with Sophie on the verge of shocked tears, their teacher cleared her throat and redirected everyone’s attention, pointing one of the girls over to join Sophie instead. Molly made her way over, occupying Rafe’s seat in the space across from her. “Poor Rafe,” she murmured.

Sophie frowned, pulling her jacket tighter across her chest like a shield of armor. “Poor Rafe? What?”

Molly nodded, lowering her voice a little. “Yeah, you didn’t hear? I’m surprised he’s at school, honestly.”

“I didn’t...what happened?”

“Oh.” Molly frowned. “Um. You know that winding road, the one that goes downhill toward the ballet studio?”

Sophie didn’t, she didn’t even have a clue - the ballet studio was on the entire opposite side of the island from where she lived, the height of Figure 8, and she hadn’t ever had a reason to even venture that way. “Yeah? What does that have to do with Rafe?”

“Um, well, it was pouring last night, and his mom was driving down that road. I heard she lost control of the car and wrecked it. There was, like, a drunk driver that swerved into her lane, but she tried to avoid him and hit a tree.” Molly told her, careful on the details.

“I’m pretty sure the Camerons can replace a car.” Sophie replied, not wanting Molly to confirm where she thought she was going with the story. She dug her nails into the skin of her thigh anyways, feeling anxiety bubble up in her chest.

Molly shook her head, slowly. “Mrs. Cameron died, Sophie.”

Her heart dropped and she bit the inside of her cheek, hard. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the sirens last night, I saw like eight police cars last night headed toward his house. I heard Sarah was in the car too, I think -”

“Is Sarah okay?” She couldn’t concentrate on anything but her ears ringing, her heart pounding in her chest.

“Oh, yeah, I think so. But god, how awful, right? The funeral is next weekend, Ward Cameron told my dad this morning. Is your family going?”

“Um...I don’t know.” Sophie glanced toward the door, hoping to god he would come back through the door and Molly would confess that it was all a joke, that she hadn’t just started something with Rafe on that day of all days.

________

Rafe nodded. “Yeah. ‘Course she was. I think she really enjoyed it, actually, she’d always tell Sarah when she was little about how pretty she would look in the dress, how important it was to learn the right etiquette and -” He cut himself off, realizing he was sharing too much, and deftly fastened the clasp before pressing a kiss to the top of her head, letting her step away. “All that.”

“Huh.”

He smiled to himself, thinking about how his mom would let little Sarah play dress up in her old ballgown with gloves that went up to her armpits, wobbling around in high heels twice the size of her feet. His mom would tell Rafe he’d have to watch out for Sarah with her escort, keep him in line, and that when he was in college he’d be presenting a girl as well. But he was nine and didn’t think of girls in that way quite yet, so he always scowled and left the room.

“It’s kind of cool, I think. The tradition of it all.”

“The ball? Have you been?” She caught his eye in the mirror as she adjusted her top, not wanting to push for too much information before he’d shut down altogether.

“No...I was gonna present Brooklyn at the one here in Columbus, sophomore year’s normally when the girl gets presented, but. Yeah. No, I meant, it’s kind of cool that you’ll be doing something my mom did.” He rubbed the back of his neck, meeting her gaze for a moment then looked away.

“Yeah?”

“She would have liked you. I know it.”

Sophie perked up a little, cocking her head. “You really mean it?”

“Yeah. She would have liked that you have an attitude with me.” He grinned when she turned back around and took his hand, tugging him over to sit on the bed next to her. “She was always saying I needed to find someone to match my energy, keep me in check. I wish she could have met you.”

“I did meet her. Once.”

He perked up, cocking his head. “You did?”

“Yeah, I served her when I was working at the restaurant at the country club once, I was only fourteen. I remember she made some comment about me being too young to work and I told her I liked it. Then she asked my name, and I remember she seemed like she knew already when I told her.” Sophie nodded. “She was really nice, left way too big of a tip and wrote my name on the bill. I always thought that was funny.”

Of course she knew, Rafe thought as he smiled to himself. She knew, because Rafe had come home and complained about a girl getting on his nerves every single week since seventh grade. She knew, when the complaints turned to “why won’t just be nice to me” and his mom had quipped that Sophie probably liked him - he had scoffed and walked away. She knew, because his mom had come home from the country club and told him Sophie Flint was a much nicer girl than Rafe painted her to be, and Rafe had immediately turned bright red and been embarrassed that his mom sought her out.

“I like that.” She leaned into him, taking his hand to play with his rings. “Will your grandparents be there? At the ball?”

“Oh, yeah. They sit on the board, I’m pretty sure, it’s this gigantic charity event. I’ll introduce you, but don’t worry, they’re chill. Nothing like my dad.” He adjusted himself so she was comfortable, then pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

She chewed on the inside of her lip, treading carefully. “I thought your dad grew up on the Cut.”

“He did. But my mom, no way. Kook through and through. That’s, uh, where a lot of my trust is from. After she died, um. She wanted to be sure me and Sarah were set.” He shrugged, ears turning red as he felt his throat getting tight.

Sophie frowned, feeling him closing off, and leaned closer to hug him, arms wrapped tight around his waist. “You know you can talk to me about this stuff whenever, Rafe? I’d like to hear more about your mom. She sounds like an amazing woman.”

“She was.” He nodded, settling his arms around her shoulders and rested his chin on the top of her head, closing his eyes for a moment. “Thanks, Soph. This is a really big deal to me, that you’ll go. I know it’s not your scene.”

“Love you.” She murmured. “You’d better buy me a pretty dress.”

He laughed, leaning back just enough to tip up her chin with one finger and kiss her. “You’ll be the best looking one there. I swear.”

“Oh, I already knew that.”

“Okay, okay, big head -”

She swatted his arm, laughing as she ducked out from under him. “Watch it, or I won’t go -”

“I was kidding!” He exclaimed, wrestling with her for a moment before grabbing both her hands and pinning them above her head.

Sophie sucked in a breath, caught off guard. “We are going to be late.”

“We’re already late.” He pointed out, taking a moment to realize the lack of innocence in the position, then slowly smirked. “We could be later. They’re not gonna miss us.”

“Rafe.”

“Sophie.”

“No.”

“You’re positive?”

She just gave him a look, staring him dead in the eyes and willing herself not to react when he leaned down with a grin and kissed the bridge of her nose.

“Please?”

“Fine. The ball or sex right now. You choose.” She raised her eyebrows, arching her back a little on purpose, pressing her hips up against his.

“That’s not fair.” He frowned, immediately shifting his hips away and moving so both his knees were on either side of her instead. “This is blackmail.”

“Your choice.” She reminded him, biting her lip for good measure.

He faltered, sitting back on her thighs and letting go of her wrists. “Soph, it’s - it’s for my mom. I swear. Not for my dad, Rose, anyone else.”

Sophie dropped the teasing act right away, propping herself up on her elbows. “Right, right, sorry. I won’t push it.”

“It’s alright.” He climbed off her, standing, and offered his hands. “Five bucks James makes some joke about us being late because we were having sex.”

“I’m not taking you up on that.” She rolled her eyes, accepting his hand and pulled him into a hug. “Love you long time, Cameron.”

He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you too, favorite girl.”

“What do the dresses look like?”

“Uh...white?” Rafe shrugged, tugging on her hand to get her to follow him downstairs. “I dunno. When we go home for Thanksgiving I’ll book you an appointment to get fitted, I think it’s at some bridal shop on the mainland.”

“Sounds expensive.” She muttered, shaking her head.

“It’s…yeah. It’s not cheap.” He admitted, then shrugged as she followed him out the door, starting their walk toward the bars. “I’ll take care of it though. All of it. By the way, have you booked your flight home for Thanksgiving yet?”

“Um...no. I was going to look this week, it’s probably too late now though.”

“Hm.”

“Hm? Why, are you going home?”

Rafe nodded, not looking her in the eye. “Taking the plane.”

“Oh. Of course.”

“The plane...that no one else will be on...and it’s kinda ridiculous for you to waste money and carbon emissions on a separate flight…” He tried convincing her, a small smile playing on his lips as she rolled her eyes.

“You need to learn how carbon emissions work if you’re going to use that as an argument with me.”

“So that’s a no to sex on the plane?”

Sophie stopped in her tracks, confused. “That wasn’t - Rafe, what?”

“You, me, alone on the plane. Sorry, was I not clear enough?”

“I didn’t even say yes -”

“Oh, so you’re going to leave me all by myself on our one-year anniversary -”

She raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “When’s our anniversary, Rafe?”

He raised his back, stopping on the sidewalk to face her. “On my terms or yours? Because if we’re going with mine, it’s Halloween -”

“No, I had to ask you to be my boyfriend, it’s November 18th -”

“That is such an arbitrary thing, Sophie -”

“Hey! Stop stealing my vocabulary.” She interjected, pushing at his chest. “It’s the 18th, because I had to ask you out.”

“Okay. Whatever story makes you happy.” He shrugged, laughing when she shoved at him again. “Come on the plane with me.”

“...Fine. Only because I don’t want to miss our class reunion party on Wednesday night, I’m pretty sure some people still don’t believe we’re together.”

Rafe laughed loud at that, looping his arm around her shoulders and started walking again. “Pretty sure Topper still thinks it’s all an elaborate lie.”

“Does he know that we nearly hooked up in his room last winter break?”

“No.” He grinned. “Are you forgetting that you had to sprint into his bathroom right when I was about to kiss you because of some tequila thing you had?”

She tilted her head slightly. “You’re remembering wrong. That was sophomore year, before we were dating, I barely drank last year...you almost kissed me?”

“What? No, I think...remember, we were arguing over something, then you whispered in my ear to go up to his room and left. I went up a couple minutes later.” He shook his head. “I wasn’t going to make a move, Brooklyn and I were together then.”

Sophie scowled at the mention of Brooklyn. “I must have been hammered, I don’t remember any of this.”

“You wanted me.” He smirked, trailing his fingers along her collarbone. “One might say desperate.”

“No, no. All I remember is waking up in Topper’s bed feeling like shit, I had some crewneck on from your academy.” She ignored the blush creeping up her neck.

“How do you think you got there and got the sweatshirt?” He frowned. “I took care of you, Sophie. You really don’t remember?”

“I think I blacked out.” She confessed, shaking her head. “You took care of me?”

“Of course I did. Plus, I thought I was about to get some, I would have done anything for you.” He grinned, laughing when she shoved his shoulder. “Really thought that was the night I’d finally win you over.”

“Yeah, well, you can blame Sarah for her heavy pour that night.” She shook her head, smiling fondly. “I really wish I remembered that.”

“I wish you remembered too. Maybe you would have given me a chance before then instead of setting me up with Julia.”

“I - no! She asked to be set up with you, no, I did not instigate that at all.” She defended herself straightaway, cheeks flushing pink. “She said if I wasn’t going to make a move, then she was going to.”

“Sure. Whatever you believe.” He teased, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as they arrived at the bar. “Hey, Soph.”

She rolled her eyes, going to get in the winding line outside until he tugged her wrist back, pulling her to his chest. “What?”

“Thank you. I mean it.”

Sophie softened, smiling as she rose up on her toes to kiss him. “Of course, baby. I’ve got your back.”

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