#and she would likely kick him to ran away faster from counters

[smittenskitten]

We just got duped. You find this hilarious? Hmmm. I'm having so much fun.

[svgvru]

. . . home, the place where i can go, to take this off my shoulders . . .

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔. after he had left, you never expected him to retun to you. after all, his words remained in your head: "we aren't good together." at this point, you've come to the conclusion he said that to keep you away from him. to spare you from his actions. and yet . . .

a series of knocks sound on your doornin the dead of night. your eyes scan the '𝟷𝟸:𝟸𝟷' on your phone, sitting up in confusion as to who could be visiting you at a time like this. your feed pad on the wooden floors, surprising flooding your face at the sight when you open the door. there he was, as if he had never left—suguru geto. accept, there were two others. two little girls, sisters you assume, one with brown hair was hiding behind his legs—the other with blonde hair was curled in his arms. you wondered why he has children. much less, children who should be asleep at this time. "i need help."

he so desperately came to you, needing help with taking care of children, knowing you had experience with your siblings. two children at that. you should've shut the door and told him 'no.' but those adorable little faces made you step to side and let him in.

the little girls were small, and they most definitely had clothes that needed to be replaced. although, it was twelve in the morning, you couldn't go shopping. so cooked up something quick, handing them bowls of food that would fulfil them, promising to go visit your mother's and grab some of your sister's old clothes. "i thought "we didn't work," that you were leaving me," you mumble, hands scrubbing the dirty dishes—the two little girls were curled on the couch of your living room.

"im sorry," suguru whispers back, leaning agsinst the counter. "i thought that would make it easier . . . i— i'm set in my ideas, you can't change me. so if you want to kick—"

"those two little girls over there," you start, glancing at them. "nanako and mimiko, they need care. and you can't go in blind taking care of them. they're the reason i'm helping you . . . " suguru looks a bit shocked at your words, his lips part as if to say something, but he doesn't go through with it. instead, he smiles softly. "thank you . . . "

ever since then, you've helped him. turning a blind eye to his crime in exchange for helping with nanako and mimiko. as promsied, you took some of your sister's old clothes, giving the kids baths and fresh clothes. since then, suguru and you have gotten closer again. despite your distaste towards his ideals, you will forever continue to love him. watching him become a girl dad didn't help.

your days consisted of teaching suguru how to cook, because he burned everything he touched. helping get the kids into school, and asisting them with their homework. taking them to places and trips suguru couldn't—because he was a fugutive. giving nanako and mimiko the love and care they deserved after the trauma and abuse the village had given them. yes, the two of you got weird looks at times, being two men taking two little girls shopping, but regardless—the two of you were their dads. and you were always there for suguru, helping him with their milestones.

when they first learned to ride their bikes, there you were helping suguru teach them. surprisingly, mimiko was a much faster learner than nanako. you could say nanako was a bit of a late bloomer, she couldn't pick it up quite as fast as her sister. the poor girl cried at one point! however, she eventually got it with help of mimiko, you, and suguru.

and oh—the catastrophe that occured occured when the two of them happened to get their periods at the same time . . .

suguru ran—to you, dashed to you. his panicking, caused the kid to panic, and then you panicked for a moment before figuring out what was wrong. a sigh left your lips. "calm down, suguru . . . " you calmly told the girls to calm down, telling them it was normal. you took the risk and called shoko, telling her they were "your neices." she knew damn well you were lying, but regardless, she helped the girls. now you keep a bin of pads and hygiene products in the cabinet of your bathroom for the girls when they come over.

lets not start with the middle school crushes. you'd pick them up from school, suguru patiently waiting in the car . . . and a little boy would run up to nanako to say goodbye. as you got mimiko in the car, the two kids had a faint blush on their cheeks. you saw suguru's twitching eye in your peripheral. a sigh left your lips. "suguru, would you calm down. they're kids . . . " suguru grumbles, "i don't care. he needs to get away from my little girl!" you roll your eyes and call nanako to the car, the two kids parting. during the rest the car ride suguru was fuming.

every step of the way, you and suguru were taking care of them. nanako and mimiko had even started calling you "dad." mimiko started it first. it caused more pain in your heart when you realized the situation you were in.

suguru had declared war. your his two girls were standing behind him, refusing to look at you—perhaps out of shame?

you couldn't allow it. you couldn't allow the deaths of thousands at the cause of suguru, but you couldn't allow him to do either. it was such a great thing you were friends with satoru, and a special grade. it was a hassle to convince the higher-ups, yes. but the combination of yours and satoru's influence and power was enough of to convince them. if only you could convince suguru.

he wasn't afraid of you, he never was. holding things over his head was nearly impossible, but it was just that—nearly impossible.

his girls were now accomplices of his crimes. his family was in danger along with his life. he wasn't able to defeat yuuta, his goal would never be accomplished, even after everything he has given up. "please, suguru. it's enough, you've done enough." tears prick at your eyes at the sight of him, an arm missing and a bloodied face as he was slumped against the wall. if only you could convince. "the girls . . . " if suguru would just agree. "please . . . "

please. "okay . . . " he'd never admit it. but he loved those girls more than anything. he'd give up his life for them, he'd kill again and again for them. perhaps he had found what it truly meant to be a parent. "okay . . . "

this must be a dream. but if so, it's a good dream. shoko's reversed cursed technique had given him his arm back. he was healthy, he was here. no, his crimes couldn't be forgiven so easily. but suguru geto was back in your arms. him along with the now teenage girls, nanako and mimiko. the children you'd never admit you've always wanted with him.

ah, peace at last.

[the-fandom-abyss]

Tase and Save

Sam Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluff ♡

Word Count: 1,695 words

Warnings: mentions of drugs, a smidge of violence, unwanted attention and Sam using her muscles

The lights were dimmed, music turned to high volume and cups littered the surrounding areas. There was no mistaking this as a frat party by the way the smell of sweat and alcohol, filled your nostrils. At the sudden hit, you scrunched your face in disgust, second guessing why you had come tonight. A familiar face brushes past you and it all becomes clear. One of your friends had mentioned that Tara would be of attendance. This was shortly followed up by how she had convinced her sister to join her. This was unheard of since the beginning of the school year. Samantha Carpenter out in public and at a frat party, you had to see it for yourself. You had played your interest off as curiosity, but you couldn’t deny how your heart fluttered at the name. So here you were, homebody by trade, hoping that the equivalent to Big Foot would show up.

Taking advantage of your sudden haze, a substance was slipped into your drink. Distracted, you took a long sip, eyes searching for the taller Carpenter in the crowd. It wasn’t long until you had finished your cup, wanting a refill. When you had turned around, the room began to spin, causing you to lose balance. What you couldn’t comprehend was how one drink could cause you to be drunk. Shaking it off, you headed for the various bottles spread on the counter. One of the boys noticed your wobbly stance, taking it upon himself to help.

“Hey there” he introduced, handing you the bottle that you wanted. His presence was close to yours, alerting others that you were his.

“Hi” you said while pouring your drink, not once paying him attention.

“What’s a cutie like you doing all alone?” His body bumped yours, a smile graced his lips at how you lost your balance.

“I’m not alone, I’m with my friends” the words all slurred into one, and yet for you it was crystal clear.

“I don’t see them”

“They’re over there” you pointed towards random group of people, hoping that he would take the hint. In your defence, with the blurriness that had settled in your eyes, any one of them could have been your friend.

“Let me take you to them” before you had the chance to move away, he held you by the wrist. On a normal day, you would have protested, kicked your feet and screamed. Under the circumstances, all you gave was a nod, a glazed over stare and a weightless body to move. He lead you towards the stairs, wanting nothing more than you in his bedroom. In your state, you didn’t seem to notice the change in direction. All your focus was placed on putting one foot in front of the other. It was only the first step and your foot had slipped, causing your body to fall. With his strong arms, he held you by his side, opting to lift you instead. Another few steps and your body went limp, losing all control of your limbs. He carried you bridal style, not bothered by the state you were in.

“Put her down!” Someone shouted above the music. The man turned to see Chad staring from the bottom of the stairs.

“She’s tired, she’s sleeping in my room” he called down to him, trying to hide his true motive.

“Like hell she is” Sam ran up those stairs, two at a time, just to make it to you faster. The man tried to shake her off, bumping her with his body. When an energy was given towards his groin, he yelped in pain, accidentally letting you go. Sam was quick to catch you, heading back down the stairs.

“Stupid bitch! Keep the whore” if Sam wasn’t angry before, she was downright furious now. She handed you over to Chad before marching her way back up the stairs. She kicked his freshly grilled groin and punched him hard enough to make him bleed.

“Don’t you ever speak about her like that” she practically growled which caused the boy to fumble up the stairs and out of sight. Pleased by her methods, she turned her attention back to you. Chad passed you back into her arms, and you were carried away from the scene.

“Sam” you said dreamily with a dopey smile on your face. She could see the effects of the drug taking over your system. She was beyond worried about your well-being so she decided to stay with you all night. She carried you all the way to your dorm, which was closer than her apartment. Thankfully your roommate had gone away for the weekend, so they wouldn’t be startled by your appearance. Sam gently laid you down on your bed, manoeuvring you to take off your jacket and jewellery. Once you were sorted, she sat beside you, running her fingers through your hair. Even in your blissed state, you instinctively wriggled closer to her body. Curling up next to her, with a hand clutching to her shirt. Small snores passed your lips, signalling that you were officially asleep. Samantha couldn’t help the smile that graced her lips at how utterly adorable you were.

Night had turned into morning, with the sun rays beaming through the cracks of the curtain. Sam had already woken up, had a shower and helped herself to some of your clothes. So when you’re eyes fluttered open and landed on the woman in your room, it took your breath away. Sam was in your room, wearing your clothes and if the drugs hadn’t messed with your brain, this surely would. When a headache began to form, the groan that left you alerted Sam to your awakened self.

“Here” she sat on the edge of the bed and handed you two aspirins and a glass of water. She watched carefully to make sure that they were swallowed before taking the glass from you. You fell back on to the pillow, hands covering your eyes.

“Did we?” You asked, hoping that she would understand your unfinished question. A laugh was heard in response, a hand meeting your on the bed.

“No we didn’t” she gave it a squeeze in reassurance. If she had found you earlier before the events of the night, maybe that could have happened.

“Then what happened?”

“What do you remember?”

“I remember seeing Tara in passing and then finishing my drink. After that it’s all a blur”

“That would be because someone spiked your drink” at that you sat up, ignoring the sudden nausea it gave you. When could that had happened? You made your own drink and were holding it the entire time.

“What?”

“Some scum slipped it in when you weren’t looking”

“Ugh, I’m such an idiot” you covered your face with your hands, embarrassed that this had happened to you. All because you were too distracted by the thought of the woman next to you.

“No you’re not, it could have happened to anyone” she reassured you, rubbing calming circles on your exposed leg.

“I’m so sorry you had to deal with that” you felt so foolish, letting this happen to you. Even more embarrassed that Sam had caught you like that.

Sam shrugged her shoulders, eyes trained on yours. “It’s okay, I was happy to help” another squeeze to your hand to show she was telling the truth.

“Thank you”

“You’re welcome” a beat of silence passed between you. Both wanting to continue the conversation but unsure of how to continue. Your bodies leaned closer to each other, noses close to touching with how close. In an attempt to put a stop to this, you just had to ask a question.

“How did you stop him?” It took a moment for Sam to register what you had said. Her mind still stick on the idea of your lips on hers.

“I tased him” her words were quiet, nervous for your reaction. Normally people don’t respond well to the idea of Sam, let alone violent Sam.

“You what?!” Your mouth hung open, shocked by her confession. She cared enough to tase a man for you, it was very sweet.

"In the balls" she followed up, with more confidence than before. She watched as a grin began to form, before laughter pushed its way through.

"Samantha!" You nudged her softly, the laughter more prominent than before. That was just the cherry on top, only she could do something so outrageous. You had only wish you were coherent enough to not only witness but remember as well.

"He deserved it" she defended, remembering how she felt in that moment. How he looked down at your weakened state and how eager he was to take you away. He deserved a lot worse for the way he spoke about you.

"Oh I bet he did" your laughter had calmed down to little giggles which Sam couldn’t help but find infectious. Her own giggles mixed with yours, sharing the sweet moment together. The giggles slowly faded and had left a smile on both your faces. The look of adoration Sam had for you was enough to reduce you to a puddle. It has built a confidence within you that you thought you never had. Without a chance for doubt, you had leant forward and connected your lips. Hers were soft as they mixed with yours, minty from brushing her teeth. Her hands moved to cradle your face, just to make sure this was real. When you had pulled back to breathe, Sam’s lips were pink and swollen from the sudden kiss. She looked dazed like she was daydreaming, only this had happened in real life.

“You can save me from as many creeps as you’d like”

“Oh really?”

“Mmhm” you recaptured her lips, leading her to lay down with you as you sunk back into the pillows. Her body felt warm next to yours, her arms holding you steady by the waist. A discussion would have to be had after this, especially with the heavy topic of the night before. But for now, soaking up everything Sam had to offer you, was all you could think about.

[xoxoavenger]

Opposites

pairing: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

summary: JJ and Y/N are polar opposites, but they're always there to balance each other out.

word count: 1544

warnings: drinking, mentions of vomit, barely proof-read

masterlist

birthday celebration masterlist

JJ and Y/N were polar opposites. It's probably why they were such a great couple; while Y/N was able to get JJ to slow down and study with her, he was able to get her away from the books and go out. The first time he was able to get her to a party, he had to carry her out after she went a little to crazy with the mixed drinks. Every so often, she had to skip out on a party, and he would just cuddle into her and take a nap as she read, but even that still worked out for them. 

It also helped that they took care of each other. 

"Y/N?" Kiara's voice was high and frightened, and Y/N looked up from her homework. She hadn't gone out tonight, her classes from the local community college kicking her ass. She was almost done with her Associates, not sure what she was planning to do next - JJ was probably going to force her to apply to other colleges to transfer to, knowing that she was fine just staying with him. He hated thinking he was holding her back.

"What? What happened?" She turned, sitting at the counter in the chateau. The others had been at a party not too far from there, so everyone was staying over anyway. 

"It's JJ." Y/N's heart dropped as she stood quickly, pencil and notebook falling to the ground. 

"Where?" She had no idea what was going on; it could be anything from him mouthing off to him pulling a gun - God, she hoped he didn't bring the fucking gun with him.

"Just down by the ocean," Kie led her outside, the two of them running. "We pulled him away from the party, but he won't listen to us, kept calling out for you." As she spoke they heard it. 

"Y/N!" JJ was wailing, sounding like he was in pain. 

"What did he do?" She asked as her heart dropped. She ran faster than Kie, sprinting toward his voice. "No! No, I need to talk to her - get off me!" He cried as she made it through the trees. 

"J?" She called, eyes squinting as she took in what was going on. JJ had vomit down his shirt, his head lolling while Pope and John B held him up, Sarah holding a water bottle and talking to him softly. "What the fuck did you do?" She asked, walking forward to put her hands on his cheek, lifting his face. 

"Baby," JJ seemed relieved, letting his eyes close and his body go limp. 

"Fuck," John B grumbled as he struggled to hold JJ up. 

"How did this happen?" Y/N asked as she helped maneuver his body to laying down, face toward the ocean incase he threw up again. His head was in her lap, and she scooted to lean against a tree. 

"I don't know, usually he knows when to stop, but he just kept going. Must've smoked two whole joints and drank an entire keg on his own." Y/N looked up at the sky and sighed, eyes closing as her heart dropped at Pope's words. 

"J," She whispered, head falling back down as she wiped hair out of his face and watched his chest move up and down slowly, solidly. 

"What should we do?" Sarah asked, question aimed at Y/N but she looked at everyone else. 

"You guys go back to the party or the chateau. JJ and I will stay out here." It was a nice night, not too cold but not blazing as if the sun were out. 

"Are you sure?" Kie asked, not one to leave her friends behind. 

"Don't worry. I'll be fine. He just needs to sleep it off." She told them, continuing to run her fingers through JJ's hair. 

"Call if you need anything." Pope said, the rest of them agreeing before walking back. 

Early in the morning, after Y/N barely slept, JJ opened his eyes. She was too worried about him, afraid that he would stop breathing or choke on his puke even though his head was facing the side. 

"Oh, fuck," JJ groaned, moving around and finally sitting up, eyes squinted against the rising sun. "What the hell happened?" 

"I was told you had a bit too much." She said quietly, leaning her head against the tree and closing her tired eyes. 

"Jesus," he muttered, rubbing his face and trying not to throw up again. "I'm sorry, babe." He crawled over to her, sitting next to her instead of pulling her into his arms, noticing the vomit on his shirt and the feeling of general sickness. 

"It's okay." She turned his head to smile softly. "I'm sure I wasn't much better that one time senior year." She told him, letting him laugh at the memory of her throwing up for hours, him holding her hair back and trying not to laugh as she slurred how much she loved him, how much she wanted to make love to him. 

"I didn't say anything, did I?" He wasn't worried about telling her his inner thoughts - she already knew them - he was worried that he had said some of the mushy shit he usually keeps to himself and her, something about how much he loved her, how he wanted to have kids with her, he wanted to marry her-

Okay, so maybe she didn't know every thought. 

"You just screamed for me for a little bit." She smirked, and he sighed, laying down next to her. "Wouldn't stop screaming until I got here, and then curled into my lap." She laughed at this, liking the blush that colored JJ's cheeks. 

"How about we go to chateau and sleep for a little longer." He asked, grunting as he stood and held out his hand. 

"You can sleep while I finish my homework." She let him lift her up, making sure to stay away from his soiled clothes. "You can also change and take a shower before any of that." She smirked, grabbing his chin as he leaned in to kiss her. 

"And brush my teeth." He said, leaning away. 

"And brush your teeth."

~

"Come on," JJ cried, being completely overdramatic. "You've been doing homework all day." It was true, she had been working for most of the day, but it was only because she wasn't able to finish yesterday, and that set her behind. 

"And you've been sleeping for most of the day." She chuckled, not looking away from her computer. She was exhausted having barely slept the night before. 

"I want to sleep for longer." He whined, grabbing her around the waist and leaning against her. 

"J," She muttered, wanting nothing more than to lay with him. "If I leave now I'm never gonna graduate." She tried, but JJ was still hanging off of her. 

"Just grab something you can read and cuddle with me." He begged, and Y/N finally sighed and gave in. 

"Let's go." She shut her computer and grabbed the book she needed to read, then followed his happy ass to the room they shared at the chateau.

Once they got comfortable in the bed, JJ basically draping himself over Y/N with his arms around her torso and his head tucked into her chest, Y/N opened the book and propped in on JJ's back. It took approximately three seconds for JJ to begin softly snoring, and Y/N just smirked and began reading.

For the most part, JJ stayed asleep, content to cuddle into Y/N even when she leaned over to turn the lamp on when it got too dark to read with the natural light. He didn't wake up until early the next morning, blinking against the lamp light and looking up at Y/N, who had tears running down her face and wide, glassy eyes.

"Babe?" JJ sits up and shifts, but Y/N continued staring. It wasn't unusual for her to cry at books, but this was different. Something was wrong.

"I cant read," She mutters and JJ has no idea what this means but he nods as if he understands.

"Okay," He tries to pull the book from her, but she has a death grip on it. 

"I-I don't know what's happening, I can't read, I don't know," She was shaking like a leaf, and once JJ was finally able to pluck it out of her hands she curled into him, their positions switching so that she was resting her head on his chest, his arms around her to pull her close and kiss her forehead. 

"I think you need some sleep, baby." He mutters, running a hand down her back. 

"I have so many assignments." She mutters, but she doesn't move from his arms, and her breaths even out as she falls asleep. 

"I love you." He whispers as he reaches over to turn the lamp off. The couple settles back in, Y/N's body like the missing part of him, her weight like a warm blanket he was never going to shed. "I love you." He repeats it because Y/N deserves to know, she needs to know and he almost wakes her up but one look at her sleeping face and he decides to settle for a light kiss on the forehead before closing his eyes and going to sleep. 

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya

[stonedregulus]

Could you do "i can't lose you again" with rosekiller, I would forever be indebted to you🥺

i'm cheating and using these both together :) this one is a little long so i'm adding a cut sorrrrryyyyy

I Stayed There

“You will not believe who I ran into today,” Alice says, kicking the door closed behind her, nearly toppling over with the number of shopping bags hanging from her arms.

“Why did you buy so much food? Are you planning to feed an army?” Barty asks as he jumps up from the couch to rush over and pull some of the packages from her laden arms.

“We’re having a party tonight,” Alice says, not looking at him as she shimmies the bags off her wrists and onto the kitchen counter.

“Since when?”

“Since,” she pauses, humming at a jar she’s pulled out of a bag as if she didn’t realize she’d bought it.

“Al?”

“Hm?” Alice hums, looking up at him like she’s just remembered he’s in the room.

“Since when are we having a party?” Barty prompts her gently. He’s used to having to follow Alice’s train of thought, which she frequently loses.

“Oh! Since I saw Evan at the grocery store,” she wiggles her eyebrows at Barty.

It’s like he’s been transported back in time to that place he tends to haunt when he’s left alone with nothing but his thoughts. When Evan told Barty he’d found someone. When he told Barty he was happy. When Evan left him there in that restaurant. When Barty realized he’d been living in a fantasy of his own design thinking the boy he’d loved, loved him back.

He can hear the glass shatter in his hand from gripping it too hard, feel the shards embedding themselves in his hand, see the blood dripping onto the white table cloth as Evan and the waitress fuss.

“Bar?”

Barty realizes Alice has been staring at him while he’s been lost in the memories like he has been the last five years. 

“So… I’m confused,” Barty says, shaking his head as he puts a bag of crisps away in the cabinet. 

“I sort of said we were having a party thinking I could get away from him faster, but then he just looked sort of pitiful, and I invited him because I felt bad.”

“You invited my ex-best friend, who I used to be in love with and broke my heart, to a party, because you felt bad for him?” Barty asks. Alice shrugs at him, folding up the empty grocery bag. “You’re going soft, Fortescue. Stop hanging out with that Frank bloke.”

She shoves him hard.

“Go take a shower and wear something nice. I’ve invited everyone, they’ll be here in,” Alice looks down at her watch and grimaces, “a half hour.”

“For fucks sake, Al!” Barty grumbles, but allows her to push him into the bathroom before he slams the door in her face and calls loudly, “Some best friend you are!”

***

Stupid Evan and his stupid strawberry blonde waves that fall right above his stupid pierced ears. Stupid Evan and his stupid freckles, especially the three on his top lip that make Barty want to sink his teeth into it. Stupid Evan and his stupid ability to make conversation with literally anyone. 

“You’re staring,” Regulus whispers and Barty jerks his head to see grey eyes piercing his.

“Staring at you now, Reggie,” Barty smirks, tapping Regulus’ nose. Regulus snarls and grabs onto Barty’s finger, bending it backward faster than Barty can blink.

“Okay, okay, stop ouch!”

Regulus’ eyes glint mischievously, but he lets go of Barty’s finger. “Are you going to talk to him, or just attempt to burn him with your brain power alone?”

“Do you think he’s still dating her?”

Regulus shrugs, “Dunno. You should ask.” Barty sighs exasperatedly and Regulus rolls his eyes at him. “You’re the one who wants to know.”

“Yeah, but you’re supposed to be my best friend.”

“You have three other best friends you could ask,” Regulus says, gesturing to where Dorcas, Pandora, and Alice are locked in an epic beer pong battle.

“Reg—“

“You are so fucking whiney. How many of these have you had?” Regulus points at the glass of cheap white wine that Alice had forced into Barty’s hand two hours ago.

“I dunno. Four, or five glasses? It’s not like it has any alcohol, really. Why does she even buy this shit? It’s gross. Ugh, why does everything have to suck so badly?” Barty laments.

“It does have alcohol, and you always turn into a giant whining bummer when you drink white wine,” Regulus says, taking the glass from him and pouring it into the vase of the fake plant sitting on the end table next to him.

“Oi!”

“You didn’t like it anyway, but you’re right, it is disgusting. She could at least buy something that isn’t so flabby.”

Barty rolls his eyes and then glances back to the kitchen where Evan is in some sort of discussion with James, which seems to be hilarious judging by how he’s doubled over, wiping tears from his shining blue eyes. 

Stupid Evan and his stupid gorgeous smile. Stupid James for being nice to him.

“I’m going to go distract my boyfriend now so you can go tell Evan you’ve been in love with him for about thirteen years,” Regulus stands up, but Barty grabs onto his wrist quickly.

“Wait, wait, Reg,” Barty says, his voice wavering. “If he’s- if they’re still together… I can’t take that kind of rejection again. We haven’t even spoken in five years and that was all me. He tried but I just…” he trails off, staring pleadingly at Regulus.

“So, apologize,” Regulus says, pulling Barty off the couch. “Apologize for ditching him. Tell him you miss him and that you want to be friends again.”

Barty swallows. He wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole as he follows Regulus over to where James and Evan are now taking shots of Apple Sourz.

“Babe, I need you,” Regulus says as he and Barty reach the kitchen.

James looks at him seriously, “Are you okay?”

“Alice told me that the cat downstairs is a stray that the residents leave food out for, and I want to take him home.”

James blinks, “You want me to catch a cat?”

“Yes.”

James purses his lips before raising a shot glass to his lips and throwing the bright green liquid back.

“Alright, let’s go. What are you naming it?” he asks, patting Evan on the back in goodbye before stepping out of the kitchen with his boyfriend.

“Salem, obviously,” Regulus says, winking at Barty before pointing at Evan and mouthing, “fix it!”

When Barty looks back at Evan, he’s tossing back another shot, refusing to look at him.

“Hi,” Barty mumbles, staring at a few freckles he can spot on Evan’s exposed collar bones.

“Oh, are you speaking to me?” Evan asks, and there’s something sharp in his voice that doesn’t belong there.

Barty looks around, exaggerating the movement more than necessary, “You’re the only one here aren’t you?”

Evan stares at him, face blank, the spark in his eyes dulling, “What do you want, Barty?”

“Can’t a guy say hello to the only other person in the room without being accused of an ulterior motive?” Barty asks. The twenty-three-year-old version of himself cringes in his mind.

Evan sighs exasperatedly before rolling his eyes and moving away from the countertops and out of the kitchen toward the living room where the rest of the party seems to finally be slowing down.

“Wait,” Barty says desperately, and Evan stops in the opening between the two rooms. Barty takes a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

“I have something to tell you,” Evan says excitedly. His eyes shine like the stars above them, just visible through the few overlapping branches of trees covering the patio of the restaurant. His excitement leaches out of him, warming Barty through to the tips of his toes. 

“Yeah?” Barty grins at him. He holds onto his highball, nervously running his fingers through the condensation forming despite the chilly autumn air.

“You know how I’ve been a bit, well, much about finding ‘the one’ lately?” Evan asks sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. The dim lights of the candle on the table and the hanging lanterns above their little corner of the patio illuminate his face in soft, warm light. He looks so beautiful like this—happy and light, as if all his problems have completely disappeared for the evening. Barty wants to reach across the table and take his hand, but for now, he’ll just grip his glass, perhaps a bit too tight.

“I do.” Barty smiles at him gently. Evan has been a bit obsessive about finding someone to fall in love with and marry because apparently, twenty-three is the age you’re supposed to do that. Now is the time they’re supposed to settle down and start a family. At least, that’s what Evan’s parents say, so Evan, being the people pleaser he is, has been determined to show them he is the perfect son.

It’s been hard to watch Evan go on date after date with beautiful women who fit his parents’ idea of “the perfect wife.” Months and months of cheering Evan up after not being able to find a girl he clicks with has made Barty cynical and more than a bit jealous. 

But this past month Evan hasn’t gone out much. He’s stayed home at his and Barty’s shared flat playing video games, eating pizza, building blanket forts, and watching movies. They’ve fallen asleep in the mounds of blankets and cushions on the floor too many times to count, and Barty thinks Evan has finally realized that what he’s been looking for all this time has been right in front of him.

“I found her,” Evan says, grinning broadly.

There’s a dull buzzing that fills Barty’s ears. Evan is still talking, gushing by the looks of it about whoever she is. But Barty can’t hear him. He can’t hear anything over the waves crashing in his head.

“Barty?” Evan's voice pulls him from his reverie. Barty opens his eyes, and Evan is staring at him. Despite his anger, concern laces his features.

“I’m…”

What does he say? What do you say to someone who you’ve ignored and blocked on every single social media platform for five years? What do you say to the boy who left you in a moment of the past and moved on with some girl he loved? 

“It’s been so long,” Barty manages to mumble.

“And whose fault was that?”

“You left me no choice.”

“How? That doesn’t even…” Evan lets out a groan and lifts his hands in exasperation. “You blocked my number. You put up a wall between us. You cut off all contact and gave absolutely no reason.”

“It doesn’t matter. You moved on. Just went on with time and your life and just left me there and-“

“Barty! I didn’t leave you! You left me!” Evan shouts.

“Don’t raise your fucking voice at me,” Barty says darkly, glaring at Evan. “You couldn’t see me right in front of you. I was right there. I was right there. I’m still right there, just stuck at that table forever, right where you left me.“ 

“You’re literally not making any sense, Barty.”

“You kept looking for the perfect girl, the perfect wife, as if I wasn’t right in front of you.”

He watches Evan swallow slowly, staring at him with wide eyes.

“And then you stopped! For a month you acted like… Like you realized what you meant to me and I thought that I-” Barty’s voice cracks, “that I meant the same to you. But I didn’t. I guess I didn’t.”

Evan doesn’t say anything. He just stares, as if he’s seeing Barty for the first time.

After a few moments, the wall Barty has so carefully built, keeping him in the past, keeping him from moving on or feeling any of it, seems to crumble. He sniffles, rubbing his wet cheeks with the back of his hand.

“Sorry. I’ll just go,” Barty says quietly, trying to move past Evan, but he puts up a hand just in front of Barty’s chest. His fingers are shaking, and he leaves a few inches between them like he’s unsure if he can touch Barty.

“I didn’t know that’s how you felt,” Evan says quietly.

Barty shakes his head, “It’s fine.” He tries to move around Evan again but this time the other man presses his hand against Barty’s chest.

“I can’t lose you again.”

Barty swears he can feel the moment stop in the space between heartbeats when Evan’s eyes move between his eyes and his lips, and back up again.

It’s like the past blurs with the present, and where he’s been stuck for five years unpauses as Evan leans in to kiss him.

[iheartcake123]

☁️change-yoon gwi-nam☁️

a/n: im a sucker for a storyline where the bully changes and gets what they deserve so this is part of that hehe and again feedback good or bad is always welcome as i still don’t know how to format my imagines or if people like them, so feel free to leave me feedback! also part 2 will hopefully be out very soon as most of it is already written :) one last thing, this is my first kdrama and kind of horror (?) imagine so im sorry if it’s not great lool

warnings: mentions of killing, zombies , occasional curse words and knives

Masterlist

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5 (1)

Part 1

-3rd person p.o.v-

y/n was in the school cafeteria when it happened. she was getting lunch when suddenly students started to run in screaming. followed by those who had turned.

she now found herself hiding in the cafeteria’ kitchen area with one of the school’s bullies gwi-nam. probably one of the worst people to be with at a time like this but she had no choice.

she wasn’t an idiot. she didn’t trust him, not even for a second, but she had to stay hidden for as long as she could to plan an escape. she’d already watched gwi-nam brutally push out two other people from where they were hiding to save himself and y/n was sure she would be next if she stayed. so now she had to make a run for it.

soon. before he could even attempt to sacrifice her for himself.

taking a deep breath in, y/n slowly shuffled to get a better look to see if there were any gaps where she could possibly run to escape. she didn’t know where she would run to but with the options that she had, anywhere was better than where she currently was.

“yah, what are you doing?” gwi-nam whisper yelled as he saw her slowly begin to shuffle out from where they were hiding.

she ignored him as he continued to try to find out what she was going to do.

as she made it out from underneath the metal table, she quickly grabbed a knife from the counter to protect herself before starting to run to get out of the kitchen area. but she was stopped as a zombie had heard her and ran to attack her. thankfully, she’d taken some self defence classes before so she knew how to fight to an extent. as the zombie came towards her she used all her force to push it off of her before stabbing it in the neck and kicking it to the floor.

as she continued to make her way to the kitchens exit she then saw one of the lunch ladies hiding, asking for help. reaching out to grab her hand she helped the woman up and just as she was about to turn to leave gwi-nam came running, a zombie chasing him. as he approached y/n and the lunch lady he grabbed the lunch lady and pushed her into the zombie that was chasing him.

this made y/n sick to the stomach, but she couldn’t dwell on it as she still needed to leave the cafeteria to get some place else. after managing to escape through one of the windows she felt relief flood over her. however, gwi-nam had also managed to get out following closely behind her.

“what’s your plan now?” he raised an eyebrow at y/n and she shrugged. she hadn’t thought about what to do next.

“okay i’ll tell you mine then..you see that bike, that’s how we should escape” gwi-nam said as he pointed to a bike discarded on the floor.

y/n couldn’t help but roll her eyes in response “it’s faster on foot”

gwi-nam ignored her and decided to then make a run for the bike. y/n debated on whether to go or not, but then closely followed behind him. they both of course began to get chased by zombies and y/n looked over her shoulder to see gwi-nam struggle with the bike.

he soon ditched the bike and ran into the main building with y/n and after what felt like hours of pushing away and fighting zombies, they finally found a room with an unlocked door to hide in.

“shit!” gwi-nam cursed as y/n shut the door behind them.

“huh?” she questioned turning to look at the room, only to see some zombies head towards him and y/n. she hastily held her knife up, not only for the zombies but for gwi-nam too incase he tried anything like pushing her into the zombies.

but he didn’t do that. instead he began to fight them off.

as much as y/n didn’t want to admit it but she was slowly starting to trust him as he hadn’t yet tried to do anything to harm her.

y/n just watched as he fought the zombies, using his own knife to kill them and as he fought the final one, he began to lose. his knife dropped out of his hand and he was struggling to hold the zombie girl up to stop her from taking a chunk out of his face.

a part of y/n wanted to leave him to get bitten as it’s what he deserved after bullying and killing people. but, y/n herself wasn’t a murderer so after mentally cursing herself and debating on if she should save him or not, she ran and tackled the zombie off gwi-nam and onto the floor before stabbing it in the head.

however, as she began to stand back up her hand landed on some glass and she winced in pain. she was now hurt and she knew that he didn’t deserve to be saved in the first place. but, she couldn’t let him die if she had a chance to help him either.

she would’ve been just as bad as him.

as tears pricked her eyes, she went to go sit against the wall on one side of the room and examine her hand. as she examined it she couldn’t help the sounds escaping her mouth. it hurt like hell.

and of course, gwi-nam was too rude to even thank her for saving his life just then. instead he had just got done fixing up an area in the room and was now lying down so that he could rest.

“aish, i can’t sleep with those dead bastard zombies in this room and with you making noise!” he complained, sitting up from his lying down position and finally turning to look at y/n who was sat in the corner holding back tears as she tried to pull the piece of glass out of her hand.

“did you hear me? i said-” he spoke louder but stopped once he noticed that she was hurt.

he instantly felt bad for raising his voice and walked over to her after grabbing the first aid kit from one of the shelves in the room. he awkwardly approached y/n as she whimpered attempting to pull the glass out of her hand again but failing miserably.

“here” he nodded holding out the first aid kit to her but she ignored him so he raised his voice “just take it!”

this time she flinched in reaction and just grabbed the kit from him with her good hand before going back to trying to remove the glass stuck in her hand.

gwi-nam stood watching her as she struggled. he noticed the tears that she was desperately holding back and he noticed her trembling hands. so, he eventually decided to help her. squatting down in front of her, he yanked the first aid kit from her and pulled out some tweezers from the bottom of it.

“what are you doing?” she questioned him as he grabbed her hand in his and began to pull out the glass using the tweezer.

“stop moving” he firmly said tightening his grip on her before finally removing the glass and wrapping her hand in a bandage.

he then stood up again and walked back to his area that he made to sleep and laid down. acting as if he didn’t just help y/n.

“thank you” y/n’s voice was quiet, she was so shocked. she didn’t know why he had even helped her. she didn’t even know that he could be nice if he wanted to.

as he heard her say those words, he couldn’t help but smile to himself. he felt appreciated for once and he liked it.

——————————————————————————

y/n couldn’t sleep no matter how much she tried. her hand was sore, she was cold and she was so on edge about zombies that could burst through the door at any second.

she stood up sighing and walked over to the window to look outside, there were stray zombies over the school field and it looked like there was a fire in the distance in the city.

seeing everything and being able to finally process some of it it, her lip began to quiver as she thought about her family. were they safe? were they looking for her? were they even still alive? whatever the answers were, she couldn’t help but think of the worst.

unable to hold it in any longer, tears began to leave her eyes as sobs tried to escape her lips. she did her best to be as quiet as possible. she didn’t want gwi-nam to see her crying and make fun of her for doing so.

y/n’s body froze when she heard shuffling from behind her and quickly wiped away the tears on her face and attempted to make it look as if she wasn’t crying.

“are you okay?” gwi-nam awkwardly asked as he stood behind her and y/n just rolled her eyes knowing he couldn’t see.

“like you even care” she mumbled under her breath before turning to look at him and answering his question “yeah, im just tired and couldn’t sleep”

gwi-nam knew it was a lie. he’d been awake the whole time and had seen y/n crying.

“same here” he then said watching her as she returned to sit on the floor.

he cleared his throat before also sitting on the floor next to her.

y/n turned to look at him and raised an eyebrow.

“what are you doing now?” she groaned slightly and he smirked.

“im just sitting next to you” he scanned her face, the moonlight from outside lighting up her face “sleep. you look tired”

“what? so that you can kill me in my sleep?” y/n scoffed “no chance”

“im not going to kill you”

“yet”

“yah, what makes you think im going to kill you? im trying to be nice!”

“and im supposed to take your word? you already killed three people just to get here”

gwi-nam couldn’t argue because it was true.

“fine. but im trying to change” he then said lowly.

“gwi-nam, you’ll never change” y/n shook her head and stood up.

gwi-nam followed and also stood up before pushing y/n against the wall.

“don’t you see? im trying to change” he said through grit teeth as he held y/n against the wall.

“by what? pinning me against the wall? now let me go!” y/n argued back trying to hide the fact she was worried he’d hurt her.

“i did what i had to do to survive, you would’ve done the same” he looked her up and down.

“let me go”

“i don’t think i will” a smirk appeared on gwi-nam’s face.

“let me-” y/n argued back but was cut off after gwi-nam placed his lips on hers.

y/n froze. gwi-nam was kissing her but she didn’t hate it. she was supposed to hate it right?

after a couple of seconds y/n found herself closing her eyes and kissing him back as he cupped her cheek with one of his hands. the kiss slowly came to an end and he rested his forehead on hers. both his and her eyes were still closed as they stood in silence.

realisation began to set in as gwi-nam moved his hand down to lace his fingers with hers.

“i told you, im trying to change” gwi-nam whispered and y/n opened her eyes to look at him.

she wanted to say something snarky or argue with him but she was at a loss for words.

maybe he really would change.

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

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There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

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"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

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It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

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The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[daryl-dixon-daydreams]

Words: 12,601 Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: pre-apocalypse Warnings: language (duh, it's me), violence, domestic violence A/N: This one got LONGGGGG woo! Protective, badass Daryl is just so. damn. good. Summary: Daryl has long had a crush on Y/N, a waitress at the local dive bar. When things start to go bad with her boyfriend, he suddenly finds himself solving problems for her.

Your name: submit What is this?

Your friend nudged you gently with her elbow as you started to move past her with your tray. “Hey. Who’s that?” she asked, nudging her head in the direction of the door. Two men had just walked in. They were regulars at the bar where you’d been a waitress for a long time. Your friend, however, had just started working there a couple days earlier.

“Oh, the Dixon brothers,” you said, skirting past her to load your tray up with the next round of drinks.

“Are they trouble?” she asked, giving you a sideways glance. You had to laugh at that question. The bar you worked at was a total dive and most of the clientele were unsavory characters. It was frequented by a lot of the biker gangs that road the highway causing trouble.

“Everyone in here pretty much is trouble,” you said, loading the row of beers on the bar top onto your tray.

“Even Mark,” she said, her tone dripping sweet because she knew it would annoy you. You rolled your eyes.

“Even Mark,” you agreed. You’d met your boyfriend at the bar while you were working. You hadn’t been dating that long, only about 3 months. He was a member of one of the biker gangs, but you’d grown up around people like him and the rest of the bar patrons your whole life. You were used to the whistles and catcalling and even the occasional ass-grabbery. Most of the time you felt perfectly safe at work with Charlie, the bartender, watching over things and quite frankly, most of the men tipped you generously. You just chose not to think about where they got the money. You didn’t come from any money at all, and you’d gotten a job as soon as you legally could to help your mom pay the bills. She had already been working two full-time jobs trying to keep your family afloat. Even before you’d been able to work officially you took every babysitting or lawn mowing gig you could find. Your dad was a good man, kind and loving, but an alcoholic. He’d had a work accident when you were just a baby and had chronic back pain from it. He was still young when he finally succumbed to his alcoholism.

And you’d just kept working.

“Well, that younger brother is cute,” your friend said, drawing your attention back to the two men who’d just walked in. “What’re their names?”

“Gimme a minute and I’ll introduce you,” you said. You rounded the bar and took the beers on your loaded tray over to a table of boisterous bikers and handed them out. By the time you got back up to the bar, the Dixon brothers had wandered over.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite girl,” Merle grinned at you, leaning his forearms on the bar. “Whatchu doin’ lookin’ that good up in here? You lookin’ to start a fight?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help smiling at him. “Merle, you can knock off the sweet talkin’. It’s not gonna get you free booze.”

“Who said I even come in here for the booze?” he flirted shamelessly, shooting a wink at you. This time you did laugh appreciatively.

“Uh huh. Well, since you’re at the bar and not in my section, I can get away with ignoring you all night,” you joked. “Charlie will be glad to take your order.” You glanced at the younger Dixon brother who seemed to be quite purposefully keeping his eyes on his hands as he fiddled with a discarded beer top. “How are you, Daryl?” His blue eyes shot up to meet yours. “Doin’ alright?”

Daryl nervously licked his lips and nudged his nose up in a single nod. His heart was hammering away in his chest.

“Good. That’s good,” you said, giving him a wide smile. Daryl’s heart jumped. Fuck. He always felt completely out of control when you smiled at him like that. Half the time it shut down his ability to engage in any sort of conversation and seemed to make his body start malfunctioning. “Well, listen boys. This is my friend Rachel. She just started workin’ here a couple days ago so I expect you to go easy on her.” Rachel smiled at them and said hello. “This is Merle Dixon and his brother Daryl.” You caught sight of one of your tables trying to flag you down. “Merle is the one you need to watch out for. He’ll try his hardest to charm you right out of your skirt, even if it never works,” you joked. “Right, Daryl?”

The younger Dixon brother hardly responded, except that his blue eyes flickered up to your face again for a moment before you breezed away. He looked up again as Charlie wandered over and asked what the Dixons wanted to drink. But Rachel cut in with a smile.

“You’re busy, Charlie. I’ll get it,” she said. She was eyeing Daryl and he felt it, glancing up at her. She was definitely attractive and definitely interested in him from what he could tell, but Daryl was so hung up on you he couldn’t have cared less. “What can I get you?” Rachel asked, leaning on the bar top, giving him a small smile.

“Gimme a bourbon, honey,” Merle said. Daryl hadn’t responded. His eyes had wandered back over to you where you were chatting with a couple regulars in a booth nearby. Merle hit him on the arm.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl drawled, pulling his eyes off you.

The way the younger Dixon brother’s gaze was fixed on you wasn’t lost on Rachel. “Sure thing,” she said, setting about grabbing the drinks. She handed them out. “So, what kind of trouble do the two of you get up to?” Rachel asked. The question was directed at Daryl but he was staring down into his beer, apparently in deep thought about something, so Merle answered instead.

“Any and every kind,” Merle laughed.

Daryl’s eyes were on you again, flickering between glancing your way, watching you smiling and laughing, and staring back down into his beer. Rachel gave the two one final smile and parting look and rushed back over to her section where someone was flagging her down. Scribbling a few notes on her pad about the order, she happened to fall back into stride with you as you both headed up toward the bar area again. You had a break for a couple minutes and hung out by the window where the cooks sent the food out.

Rachel leaned up against the counter. “I think Daryl is taken,” she said.

You gave her a questioning look. “Really? Why? I’ve never seen him in here with anyone but his brother.”

Rachel laughed. “That’s not exactly what I meant.” You stared at her, puzzled, and she rolled her eyes at you. “Y/N, he can’t keep his eyes off you. I was trying to flirt with him and he barely looked at me.”

“What? No, come on,” you laughed. “They’ve hung around here for years and he’s never said anything. I mean, I was single for a long time.”

“That doesn’t mean anything! I saw the way he was looking at you,” Rachel said. “He seems a bit shy or something. It’s not a surprise he hasn’t said anything to you about it. And besides, now you’re dating someone.”

You shrugged. “Well, he’s—he’s just a bit quiet. I don’t think—”

Rachel turned as the cook slid out the food for one of her orders. “I’m telling you he’s got it for you. Bad.” She lifted her tray. “You’re in denial. Like you usually are when someone likes you,” she laughed. “Just trust me on this.”

As Rachel breezed away, you glanced back at the two Dixon brothers at the bar. Daryl was aimlessly spinning his beer glass in his hands, staring down at it, but a moment later he glanced up and his blue eyes caught yours. He seemed a bit startled that you were looking his way, and you offered up a small smile. Daryl gulped and ducked his head. A jolt of electricity ran through him again. Fuck. Now she’s dating someone, dumbass. Give it up. She doesn’t want you.

The rest of your shift was busy and there wasn’t much time to sit around and chat. Around dinnertime was usually when the most customers rolled in for a greasy pub meal and some alcohol to lubricate their boasting. Then the dinner crowd hung around and became increasingly more intoxicated. It was about nine when your shift was up and you pulled your apron off and stowed it behind the bar. Merle was playing pool but Daryl was still just leaned up to the counter, keeping to himself. You were about to engage him in some small talk when the door pushed open and your boyfriend walked in. He immediately spotted you and gave you a nod and a smile. You grinned back at him, grabbing your purse from underneath the bar. “Hey, I’ll see you later, Daryl!” you said brightly.

He nodded and managed to give you a small smile, really just one twitch up of one corner of his mouth. His eyes followed you through the bar and he watched over his shoulder as your boyfriend’s hands landed on your lower back and you arched up onto your toes to kiss him. Daryl felt a swell of jealousy in his chest and a hard pit form in his stomach. But he simply turned away and raised a finger to Charlie and asked for another beer.

Your boyfriend Mark walked you out into the parking lot and you stopped next to his bike. “Hop on. Let’s go home,” he said.

“I’m starving. I thought we were going to grab something to eat?” you asked.

“No, come on. Let’s go home,” he said.

You thought there was something a bit different in his tone but you brushed it off. He’d been riding all day. He was probably just ready to be done and wanted to relax. But a couple minutes later, you could tell something was definitely wrong. He was speeding far faster than he should be through town, especially with you behind him. You held tighter to him and leaned forward. “Babe, slow down a bit,” you said.

He didn’t. He took a turn fast and your stomach flipped at the feeling. “Seriously! What the hell are you doing? Slow down!” you yelled over the rumbling of his bike’s engine.

He still didn’t. It was like he was getting a kick out of your fear. If anything, his speed increased. Every turn he took you felt like the bike was about to skid out. You were getting pissed. “Slow the fuck down!” you demanded.

This time he did. But soon he turned into a parking lot and stopped completely. You released your hold on him and he climbed off. A second later he had a hold of your upper arm with a grip like a vice. “Ow!” you protested as he hauled you off his bike. You almost fell as he tugged, losing your balance as you lifted your leg over the bike. “What the fuck?!” you snapped at him, ripping your arm away and staring at him in disbelief.

“If you don’t like how I drive my own goddamn bike, you can fuckin’ walk home,” he growled angrily at you. He was glaring at you with some serious rage in his eyes.

Who the hell was this person? And where was the boyfriend you knew? That’s when you realized. You stared at him, your jaw dropping partially open. “Mark… are you—did you start using again?”

He stared defiantly back at you. “I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business.”

That was a confirmation if anything. You felt another swell of anger. He’d had substance abuse problems before you’d met but he’d assured you he was clean and was planning on staying that way. “Actually, I think it is my business,” you retorted.

He scoffed and rolled his eyes. He marched over to his bike and opened the saddle bag, grabbing your purse out and tossing it to the asphalt carelessly. The contents spilled out and rolled on the ground. “Fuckin’ walk it off,” he said, hopping back on his bike and starting it again. You stared in disbelief as he roared away from you.

“Shit! What the hell?!” you yelled as the sound of his bike roared away. You sighed heavily and stared down at the items that had spilled out of your bag, crouching to collect them and stuff them back where they belonged. You straightened up and glanced around at the secluded and dark lot and deserted street. You could walk home, but it would take you a while and you didn’t particularly like the thought of being out where you were alone. You felt vulnerable, like you’d be the perfect prey for some passing scumbag. You hugged your arms across yourself and decided to walk to the nearest gas station and see if you could call someone to give you a ride. Your mind was spinning over what had just happened. He’s using again. Fucking great. You’d have to end it. That was that. After your dad, you steered clear of anyone with a substance abuse problem, and the personality change in Mark was already so apparent and immediate you knew things would, in all likelihood, just get worse.

You walked along the dark sidewalk, just hoping no one would come along and mess with you. It was only a few blocks to the nearest gas station and you fixed your mind on just getting there. You looked over your shoulder as you heard engines approaching and groaned internally. Please just let them ride past. But you could tell immediately that they were slowing. You kept your head down and just kept walking until you heard voices yelling back and forth over the rumble. Glancing over again you saw that it was Merle and Daryl Dixon.

Merle gave you one final parting glance and roared off but Daryl pulled alongside you at the curb and shut off his bike.

“Hey. Are ya okay?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

You glanced at the earnest expression on his face. His blue eyes were slightly narrowed as he peered at you and his brow was drawn down. You nodded. “I’m fine,” you said. But your tone didn’t even convince you.

“Ya shouldn’t be out here at night on your own. Thought ya were with yer guy,” he said, a slight question in his tone.

You shuffled your feet a little anxiously. “I was but—” you shook your head. “I’m fine. I’m just gonna walk to the gas station and see if I can call someone for a ride,” you said. “It’s not a big deal.”

“Mmm.” Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth for a moment. “I can give ya a ride. I ain’t got anywhere to be.”

You considered him thoughtfully for a moment. You had the overwhelming sense that you could trust him, and maybe it was the openness of his expression or the genuine tone of his voice. Normally you would have bucked at the idea of someone you didn’t know very well learning where you lived, but you’d known Daryl for years. At least, known him on some level. He never started trouble in the bar, although he often got sucked into it because of Merle. A lot of times Daryl was one of the few trying to break it up when it happened. Mostly it just seemed like he hung around with Merle for lack of something else to do. And, sure, sometimes he drank too much and he could be a little hotheaded, but you always had the sense from his rugged but quiet exterior that underneath he was sweet. He chatted with you shyly, asking questions about how you were and your life, but he never pried and he never acted inappropriately toward you or any of the other staff. Daryl Dixon had never once grabbed your ass and that was more than you could say for most of the regulars… Finally, after some consideration, you nodded. “Okay. That’d be great. Thanks,” you said.

He nodded, nudging his nose up. “Hop on.” His heart jumped as you accepted his offered hand for assistance and slid in behind him. It jumped again when he felt your arms lightly loop around him. “Where to?” You explained the route to your house and the bike roared to life underneath you. You held on a little more tightly as he pulled away from the curb.

Your mind was whirring over what you needed to do about Mark. You knew you wanted to end it but you had just witnessed how unstable he was at the moment. Lost in your head, it seemed like mere seconds when Daryl started to slow and you looked up and realized you were already home. The lights were on inside and Mark’s motorcycle was parked in the driveway. Daryl shut his bike off and you climbed off, straightening up at the curb and glancing at him. “Thank you. Really,” you said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate it.”

His blue eyes were soft on your face and one corner of his mouth twitched up as he nodded again. “S’nothin’. Anytime.” His eyes drifted over to the motorcycle in the driveway and that little smile faded. His brow furrowed as he glanced back at you. “Ya sure you’re alright?” He sensed there was something going on. Afterall, he’d seen you leave with Mark and yet there you’d been, abandoned on the side of the road…

You gulped. Your heart started racing. You hesitated for a moment. “Um… Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks again, Daryl.”

He had an uneasy feeling but what could he do? It’s not like he could invite himself to hang around. He chewed his bottom lip anxiously for a moment and then nodded. “Alright. I’ll see ya around,” he said, starting his bike up again. He watched you turn and walk up the drive and front walkway. At the top step you glanced back at him and waved. He nodded and revved the engine as you slipped inside.

_ _ _ _ _ _

When Daryl made it back to the shitty motel he and Merle were calling home at the moment, paid for with stolen credit cards and hustled pool money, Merle was kicked back on his bed getting high. Marijuana smoke was thick in the air.

“Oh, you’re back quick, baby brother,” he smirked. “You must be a two thrust and done kind of guy,” he said with a laugh and a goading smile.

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Merle,” he growled, not in the mood for his brother’s bullshit. He pulled his leather jacket off and tossed it down on the chair in the corner before flopping down on his own bed.

“You tellin’ me you didn’t bed that girl?” Merle said, sitting up. “You’ve been pining after that pretty little ass of hers for years. Why the hell did you offer to drive her home if you weren’t gonna fuck her? What the hell was in it for you?” Daryl’s jaw clenched and he glared at his older brother.

“You’re a worthless piece of shit, sometimes, ya know that? Why don’t you just shut the fuck up?” Daryl spat back at him. He flopped down on his pillow and turned his back on his brother. He could hear Merle laughing to himself again and then the volume on the TV clicked up. Daryl was glad to fall asleep, admittedly thinking about how you smelled a little like lavender and vanilla and remembering the feeling of your arms around his waist.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day, Daryl and Merle were back in the bar at the usual time. Your friend Rachel was behind the counter loading her tray with drinks, but as Daryl scanned the room for you there was no sign of you. Maybe you were on a break. He grabbed his usual spot at the bar and Merle was already sweet-talking Rachel again.

Daryl flagged down Charlie and ordered a bourbon. “Hey. Y/N on break?” he asked, hoping it sounded casual.

Charlie shook his head, grabbing a bottle and pouring Daryl’s drink. “No. She called in sick today,” he said with surprise. Daryl’s brow immediately furrowed.

“Sick?” he repeated. Charlie nodded and let out a laugh.

“I know. I think it’s the first time since she’s worked here,” he said. “Except the food poisoning incident a few years back,” he added with a laugh. “But, hell, we were all sick after that.”

Daryl nodded and mumbled a thanks accepting the drink from him. He couldn’t remember ever coming in and you not being there on a day you usually worked. He felt that hard pit form in his stomach again. The night before had seemed off to him in the first place. Seeing you walking alone along the road in the dark like that… What the hell? He knew the kind of people who moved through this little shit town. That wasn’t fucking safe. Your fucking boyfriend had been with you. Why had you been alone? And the way you’d answered him when he’d pressed you to make sure you were alright… you’d hesitated. Daryl downed his bourbon in one big gulp and flagged the bartender down again.

And now you weren’t in today. Your boyfriend’s bike had been in the driveway. He anxiously chewed on the side of his thumbnail. Maybe you really were just sick. But he had a feeling you weren’t. What the hell are you gonna do? Show up at her damn house like a fuckin’ stalker?. Daryl knew there wasn’t anything he could do and he hated that.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day Merle was sleeping off a bender so Daryl rode over to the bar alone. He didn’t even want a damn drink. He just wanted to know that you were okay. That annoying pit was still in his stomach. It was still early when he came in so things were slow and there were only a couple townies nursing beers in the corner. He sidled up to his usual spot at the bar. First glance around the room revealed you were conspicuously absent.

“Daryl. What can I get you?” Charlie asked, wiping down the bar top purely out of boredom.

“Just gimme a beer,” Daryl said, tossing a few bucks down. “Shit. Hold that for a minute. I gotta take a leak,” he drawled. He headed down the hallway that led to the restrooms and took a piss, deciding he needed a fucking smoke before he went back for his drink. He was trying to ignore the anxiety swirling in his stomach that you weren’t at work again. He pushed through the back door, digging in his pocket for his lighter, but he glanced up when he sensed someone standing nearby. “Hey,” he said, realizing it was you. You were leaned up against the wall, a lit cigarette dangling between your fingers. You seemed almost to shrink away when he noticed you. “I didn’t know ya smoked,” he said surprised.

You exhaled, your knee bouncing a little anxiously. “I don’t. Usually.” Your body language was closed off, entirely unlike you.

As Daryl looked at you his unease grew and was quickly replaced with the seeds of anger. You had sunglasses on and it seemed like you were purposely trying to keep your face turned slightly away from him. His eyes landed on a bruise on your upper arm and he stepped toward you, eyes narrowed. “Ya weren’t sick yesterday,” he said. He could clearly see individual finger marks bruised into your arm.

You kept your eyes turned down toward the pavement and took another drag on your cigarette. You could feel Daryl’s strikingly blue eyes scrutinizing you now. What the hell could you say?

He moved slowly, like he was worried he would startle you, but soon he was in front of you and you couldn’t avoid his eyes any longer. There was a split in your lip and it was a bit bruised and puffy. That seed of anger in Daryl’s chest burst into a flame. “What happened?”

You pulled your eyes away from his, grateful that they were still hidden behind your sunglasses because you could feel humiliated tears burning in them. “I’m fine.”

Daryl wanted nothing more at that moment than to lift your chin and look you over, put his hands on you gently the only way someone should. But he stopped himself and sighed and shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside you and finally lighting his cigarette, casting sideways glances in your direction. “He put his fuckin’ hands on ya,” he said softly. There was a growl in his voice.

You gulped.

“What the hell happened?” he pressed again. “I knew somethin’ was off when I dropped ya off. I could fuckin’ feel it. I shoulda—”

“No, you did plenty,” you said, straightening up. “It’s not your problem.” You finally lifted your sunglasses and put them up on your head, turning to look at Daryl. Now he could see the swollen puffiness and bruising around your eye and cheekbone. He thought there was a shadow of a bruise over the bridge of your nose too. You’d clearly tried to lessen the appearance with makeup but it was still very obvious in the bright sunlight.

Daryl felt another burning wave of rage. “He done this to ya before?” he asked. Now he was wondering how many days you’d been at work with fresh bruises hidden beneath your clothes. If he had known—

You shook your head. “No. No… He—he started using again.” You sighed and leaned your back against the wall. “He was driving all crazy when we left the other night and we had a fight about it and he threw me off his bike and left me there. That’s why I was walking out there alone when you spotted me. I knew he’d started using immediately. I’d never seen him like. He was like a different person.” You ground the butt of your cigarette out against the brick wall and tossed the it into the dumpster a few paces away. “After you dropped me off I confronted him about it. I told him I didn’t want him around me or in my house. He denied it and then got angry… I—I just got out of there and ran to my neighbor’s and she called the cops.” You couldn’t find it in yourself to look at Daryl. You felt humiliated and ashamed of the whole thing. “They arrested him,” you said, scuffing a shoe on the ground. “So, that’s that.”

“Shit, ‘m sorry,” Daryl drawled. “I wouldn’ta left ya there if I’d known—”

You let out a wry laugh and caught his blue eyes. “Yeah, well… I wouldn’t have had you leave me there if I’d known. But there was no way to know he was going to hit me and—” The sight of the bruises on your face sent a jolt of anger through Daryl every time he looked at them.

“Ya don’t deserve that. ‘M real sorry ya went through it,” he said again.

There was a softness and heavy regret in his voice and it caused your eyes to flicker up to meet his again. You nodded. “Thanks.”

“So, the prick is in jail?” Daryl asked. You nodded. “Good,” he said, tossing his cigarette down and grinding it under his boot. “And he best be glad for it ‘cuz if I see him around here I’mma kick his ass.”

You shook your head at him, a questioning look on your face.

“What?” he prompted.

Maybe Rachel was right. Maybe Daryl Dixon was taken. “Nothing,” you said, shaking your head. “Probably should get back,” you said. Daryl pulled the door open for you and you both breezed back inside.

Things returned to normal for a few days after that. Same old regulars, same old drinks, life went on. But since Daryl’s obvious care and concern for you and Rachel’s comments you were suddenly noticing how you seemed to blush so easily around him… And every time you caught his blue eyes your heart jumped a little in your chest. Maybe it had always been that way and you were just allowing yourself to notice it. You’d always thought he was sweet and handsome, but nothing beyond that had been on your radar. Now that you were tuned in you seemed to be picking up on frequencies you hadn’t registered before.

One day you rushed into the bar, running late and obviously a bit harried. Charlie shot you a look as you tied your apron on. “I know! I know… I’m sorry,” you told him. “My car is on the fritz. It keeps overheating and—anyway, I’m sorry. I’m here,” you finished, grabbing your order pad and a pen.

Merle and Daryl were sitting in their usual places at the bar and you could feel the younger Dixon’s bright blue eyes on you. “Hey—I—I can take a look at it if ya want,” Daryl drawled, looking a little abashed that he was offering.

“Really?” you asked, perking up immediately. “That would be—amazing. Honestly, I can’t spare the cash at the moment to take it to a shop and—”

“‘S’no problem,” Daryl said, spinning his beer glass in his hand and ducking his head again. “Ya just say when.” You grinned widely at him and his heart fluttered.

“Thank you so much. Um, do you have any time tomorrow afternoon? I’m off work.”

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod. “Ya. Sure.”

“Great. Thank you, Daryl,” you said.

Merle watched the exchange with some interest and then got that usual cocky smirk on his face. “Well, why don’t I come by too? While my baby brother services your car, I can help service somethin’ else,” he said, his tongue darting out to lick over his bottom lip. He chuckled at the sassy and disapproving look on your face in response.

“Keep dreaming, Merle,” you retorted, rolling your eyes at him.

“Oh, I will, darlin’.”

The bar was busy that night, but you still found yourself talking with Daryl whenever you had a spare moment. He seemed to be a little less shy the more you spoke, and you found yourself smiling and laughing more than you could remember in a long time. And it was becoming very difficult to ignore those pesky butterflies in your stomach and that warmth in the apples of your cheeks as you talked with the handsome biker and caught his blue eyes.

That night you had trouble sleeping, and as you tossed and turned you couldn’t stop thinking about Daryl and were finding yourself anxious with anticipation for the next afternoon when he said he’d come by. He’s just being nice. Don’t read into it. You had this nasty habit of talking yourself out of thinking anyone was interested in you. Rachel was good at calling you out on it. You subconsciously bit your bottom lip and rolled to your other side. But maybe he really was interested in you… You were realizing you were definitely interested in him.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The sound of a motorcycle rumbling up in front of your house and then going quiet brought you to the front window. You peeked out and saw Daryl climbing off his bike. Your heart jumped.

He watched you breeze out onto the front walk and the smile you were giving him was intoxicating. You shoved your hands into your back pockets a little nervously and met him on the driveway. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said, shifting his weight anxiously from one hip to the other. You were just in jeans and a t-shirt but Daryl still thought you were the most beautiful goddamn thing he’d ever seen. “This the problem car?” he asked, jutting a finger the direction of your car.

You nodded. “Yep. I swear I can’t go two blocks without the damn thing overheating,” you explained.

“Hmm,” he hummed, walking around to the front end. “Pop the hood,” he murmured. You walked around and opened the driver’s side door and pulled the hood latch. Daryl lifted it and was immediately bent over the engine, already peering at this part and wiggling that. You came around to stand beside him and Daryl was finding it hard not to glance over at you.

“Thanks again for doing this,” you said. “You really didn’t need to offer.”

Daryl shrugged. “‘S’nothin. Can’t have ya breakin’ down. That ain’t safe,” he said.

You felt a rush of heat in your chest at his protectiveness. “Well, can I at least get you a beer or something while I totally take advantage of your free labor?”

Daryl turned and one corner of his mouth twitched up. Ugh. Your heart jumped at that boyish smile. “It’s yer day off. Don’t ya think ya’ve brought me enough drinks over the years? We ain’t at the bar.”

You laughed lightly and shrugged. “I don’t mind. It’s literally the least I can do.”

“Ya gonna have one? I ain’t a fan of drinkin’ alone,” he drawled. You nodded. “Alright. Sure.”

“Great,” you smiled. “I’ll be right back.” When you came back with two cold beers in hand, Daryl was leaning over the engine compartment in deep concentration. You allowed yourself to notice his broad shoulders and strong, toned arms and found yourself subconsciously biting your bottom lip again… Your face flushed. You practically needed to shake yourself out of it. “Here,” you said, offering him one of the beers.

He straightened up and accepted it with a nod. “Thanks.”

You leaned over the engine and peered down at what looked to you like an unknowable mass of metal. “Any luck yet?”

He took a swig of his beer and shrugged. “Well, your radiator seems fine. Coolant level is good, no signs of a leak. Might be a bad water pump. Or could be a few other things I’ll check.”

“I’m just hoping for something cheap and easy to fix,” you said with a laugh.

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched up again. He loved your laugh. He never got tired of hearing it. “Ya, I got my fingers crossed for ya too.”

“So, how’d you learn all this stuff? Your dad teach you or something?” you asked curiously.

“Nah. My old man pretty much only ever taught me what not to do,” he muttered, leaning on the edge of the engine compartment and ducking his head a bit.

You felt your heart sink. You sensed something vulnerable there, something painful. “Mmm. I see. Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I—”

Daryl’s eyes immediately shot up to your face. “Nah, ya didn’t pry. S’alright.” His blue eyes were still fixed on your face and Daryl let himself drink in the sight of you in this new context. It felt so comfortable, so natural just talking with you, even when he neared things he never revealed to anyone. He wasn’t used to that, but he could get used to it. “Nah, I taught myself. Mostly trial and error. There’ve been times I’ve had a whole lotta nothin’ to do so,” he shrugged.

You nodded, your eyebrows lifting. “I’m impressed,” you said.

He shyly ducked his head again, hoping you wouldn’t see a red flush in his ears and cheeks as he felt them grow warm. “Pfft. It takes that little to impress ya?” he joked.

“No! Come on! Give yourself some credit! I mean it! I have absolutely no mechanical mind at all. As far as I’m concerned, an engine is a magic device that runs on belief,” you laughed shaking your head.

“Nah, c’mon. It ain’t that complicated. The engine just converts energy from the burning gasoline into work. That’s what turns the wheels. You’ve got the cylinders, right? See, your car here is a 4 cylinder. There’s a piston inside each of those cylinders that moves up and down and it’s connected with a rod to the crankshaft and that’s what turns the driveshaft which makes the wheels go. The pistons move down when oxygen and fuel are mixed and ignited. Cuz the gases expand, right?”

You stared at him blankly for a moment before a wide smile grew on your face and you laughed. “Listen, I understood everything you just said in principal but—” you shrugged vaguely, “if you asked me to explain it back in two minutes it’d already be out of my brain. Just let me be impressed with you,” you said.

Daryl nudged his nose up in a nod, an amused look on his face. You thought maybe his cheeks were even a little pink as he took a swig out of his beer and turned back toward your car. “Alrigh’. I’ll try,” he said. “Ain’t used to nobody being impressed with my dumb ass.”

“Hey! Dumb ass should never be applied to you!” you argued, giving him a stern look.

“Mmm.” He ducked his head again and tried to ignore the way his heart skipped a beat at your words. “Your house, your rules, I guess,” he drawled.

You leaned over the engine next to him again. “That’s right. Now please fix my damn car,” you said with a laugh.

And Daryl did just that. By the time he was wiping his hands on a red rag that had been dangling out of his back pocket and putting the tools away, you were shocked to see that the afternoon was gone and it was now officially evening. You’d stayed on the driveway with him the whole time, talking easily about everything and nothing at all, not noticing how the hours slid by. “I don’t even know how to thank you for this,” you said as he shut the hood. The handsome biker shrugged.

“Ya don’t need to. S’nothin’.”

You sighed and gave him a look, shaking your head. “You really are way too modest.” Daryl ducked his head shyly and shrugged again. “Well, it’s getting late. Um, did you want to stay for dinner? I was gonna cook something.”

He pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed it anxiously for a minute, hardly believing you’d just offered that. He wanted to say yes, but part of him talked back. She’s just bein’ nice. She feels obligated… “Nah, thas alright. Ya probably are sick of me by now,” he said finally.

You shook your head again. “Except I’m really not, Daryl.”

His eyes snapped over to your face and he hesitated again but his nerves got the best of him. “Nah, thanks but—I should go. Gotta check up on Merle, ya know?”

You nodded but couldn’t help feeling disappointed. “Sure. Okay. Well, hey, raincheck then. You can come over some other time. I’m a good cook,” you said. “I mean, when is the last time you had a homecooked meal?”

“Uhh—” He tried to remember if he’d ever had one…

“That’s too long,” you said. “You just say when and we’ll make it happen.” You gulped and touched him lightly on the arm. His blue eyes left your face and flickered down to the point of contact between the two of you. It was electrifying and when your fingers slipped from him, he really wished they wouldn’t. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “Daryl, thanks again. I really mean it. Now I won’t piss Charlie off tomorrow. I’ll actually be on time again.”

“Yeah. No problem. I’ll see ya,” he said, gathering the small bag of tools he’d brought over.

You grinned at him and felt your cheeks color. “I hope so,” you said. He gave you a somewhat baffled look and shyly murmured another goodbye. You watched as he climbed on his bike and sped away. The last thing you caught sight of were the angel wings on the back of his jacket and you thought of how wonderfully fitting that was. Even if Rachel was wrong and Daryl wasn’t taken with you, you were starting to realize you were now completely taken with him. And you didn’t know how you hadn’t seen it before.

_ _ _ _ _ _

The next day at work started off insanely busy. Customers seemed to be coming in earlier than usual and you were slammed far sooner than you expected with food and drink orders. But after an initial rush, things slowed way down, and that was about the time that the Dixon brothers wandered in and took their usual seats at the bar.

Daryl looked for you immediately out of habit as he walked in and was surprised to meet your eyes which were already on him. You broke into a small smile and Daryl’s heart jumped. As soon as you could, you came over to say hello.

“Hi,” you said with an even wider grin, leaning on the bar top.

“Hey,” Daryl returned.

Merle was looking between the two of you, noting the smiles and intense eye contact. He laughed. “You two do more than fixin’ a car yesterday or what? Huh?” He nudged his elbow into Daryl hard, whose jaw clenched. The younger Dixon gave his older brother a look which could properly be described as a death glare.

“Shut the fuck up, Merle,” Daryl growled.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you said to Merle, straightening up, shooting him a smirk.

“Ahh, come on. I’m just teasing you. I know my baby brother ain’t really man enough to—”

“You know, I think I know what you were about to say and I’m gonna tell you I have a very hard time believing that to be true,” you interrupted, leaning toward Merle over the counter, your voice taking on a tone that was soft but dangerous. “I think you might need to reevaluate who the real man is between the two of you.” You straightened up and shot Daryl a warm look that made his throat constrict. “Be nice,” you scolded Merle, “or I’ll ignore you for good. You’ll be stuck listening to nothing but Charlie’s same stupid jokes.”

Daryl watched in disbelief as you breezed away across the bar and he tried to gulp at the tightness in his throat.

Merle was staring after you too, obviously looking you up and down, and he let out a low whistle. “She’s way too good for you, little brother.”

Daryl nervously ran his tongue over his bottom lip and simply let out a hum of acknowledgement. Don’t I fucking know it.

Since things were so slow, you had plenty of time to chat with Daryl at the bar. Merle eventually wandered away to play some noisy rounds of pool with some fellow bikers and you were glad for his absence. Daryl was so much more relaxed without his brother sitting beside him and making snide or sarcastic comments…

“How are ya doin’?” Daryl asked pointedly. “I mean since… ya know, that night. Ya gotta go to court?”

You avoided his eyes now, feeling that same wave of shame cresting again as you thought about your asshole of an ex-boyfriend and what he’d done to you. “Not sure yet,” you said. “I think the lawyers are still doing their legal maneuvering. Depends on if he pleads guilty or not.”

Daryl felt suddenly anxious about broaching such a sensitive topic with you. Yeah, that’s what she wants to think about, dumbass. “‘M sorry. I shouldn’ta asked. Ain’t none of my business,” he said urgently.

“No! No, it’s okay! I, umm, I appreciate it actually… It’s—I’m okay,” you said. “I feel safe knowing he’s in jail.”

“Mm,” Daryl agreed with a nod. “They get… evidence? He gonna stay there ya think?” He was seized by a sudden and unexplainable intense worry. He knew plenty of asshole men like your ex and most of them didn’t give up easily and they didn’t take any perceived slight lying down.

“Well, I had to go to the police station afterwards and give a statement. They took pictures of everything. And I went to the hospital, so they have the reports…” You trailed off for a moment. “They got statements from my neighbor who called 9-1-1.”

Daryl nodded. “If ya ever need anything, ya just gotta ask,” he said seriously.

He watched the worry on your face soften as you nodded. “Thanks, Daryl.” God, he loved the sound of his name leaving your lips.

Your shift was over and you gathered up your purse from the back and dropped off your apron and order pad behind the bar, saying goodbye to Charlie. Daryl was still sitting up at the bar and Merle was playing pool, so you were glad to have a brief exchange with the handsome biker again without his obnoxious older brother around. “Well, I’m exhausted,” you said. “At least I can go out to my car and know it’ll get me home without a problem now.”

Daryl nodded. “Can’t have ya broken down somewhere this time of night. ‘Specially by yourself.”

“Right. Well, I’ll see ya, Daryl. And I mean it about that homecooked meal!” you said with a smile.

He nudged his nose up in a nod and watched you disappear through the door into the parking lot. He raised a finger to the bartender. “Gimme a double whiskey.”

Charlie was just sliding the drink over when Daryl thought he heard something from the direction of the door and he spun on his stool. It looked like someone had partially opened it, but nobody came in and nobody had gone out and the door slammed closed. He stared at it intensely for a moment, unsure why the hairs on the back of his neck were suddenly standing on end. Probably just the wind or something…

It was just then that he heard a scream from outside in the parking lot and Daryl was immediately on his feet and out the door. He saw red as he took in the scene. Your fucking douchebag, abusive ex was trying to force you into a car and you were struggling with him, fighting as hard as you could. Your purse was on the ground beside your vehicle a distance away and Daryl could see drag marks in the gravel where he’d obviously surprised you and dragged you away. He had a firm grip on your upper arm and with the other hand had a fistful of your hair. You were struggling with everything you had, yelling and fighting, but he was a lot bigger than you. It was a battle you would have lost, despite your tenacity.

But Daryl was a blur of action. Rushing him, he swung a fist and punched him hard across the face. You fell hard to the ground as his grip on you disappeared completely. You scrambled up and out of the way as best you could, but you were dazed and having trouble breathing through your panic. You suddenly realized that there were terrified tears pouring down your face. You were trembling.

Daryl was pulling Mark up by the front of his jacket and slammed his fist into his face again. Your ex dropped to the ground hard. He was still on the ground when he kicked Daryl in the shin, knocking him off balance. Daryl landed on his back in the dirt. “Mark, stop!” you screamed. You watched in horror as Mark pulled out a knife, the same one he’d told you he had when he jumped you, the same one you had briefly felt in the small of your back as he demanded compliance. Mark started moving toward Daryl’s prone figure. You felt your face blanche completely. But Daryl was faster and a better fighter and he was back on his feet in no time, keeping clear of the knife as Mark swiped toward him with it. Charlie and the other bar patrons had come out to see what was happening and the bartender had rushed back inside and was now on the phone with 9-1-1. You were screaming at Mark, trying desperately to reason with him, but he might as well have been totally deaf for all the attention he paid you.

Daryl took an opportunity and knocked him back on his ass again with a good punch and then kicked the knife out of his hand. It skidded away on the gravel and you breathed some small sigh of relief. Daryl landed over him and was punching him repeatedly in the face as police lights flashed brighter and sirens droned louder. The cops had arrived. “Daryl!” You rushed forward. “Daryl, stop! It’s okay!” You grabbed his shoulder and he immediately froze, fist cocked back, knuckles bloodied, chest heaving. Another moment and there were cops rushing over and pulling him away. One officer immediately led you a short distance away and you watched helplessly as both Daryl and Mark were put in handcuffs and then taken away in squad cars practically before you registered what was happening. “Wait—he didn’t—No, it was Mark. He—Daryl was protecting me! He—he tried to take me and—" You were trying to explain, trying to get the words out but it was all jumbled and rushed.

“Ma’am, slow down. Take a breath! Slow down! Okay. It’s okay,” the officer coached you.

“It wasn’t his fault!” you said urgently. Just then an ambulance pulled up and the EMTs jumped out. They raced over to you and you could tell by the looks on their faces that you must be a mess, red-faced and crying. You had no idea that you were bleeding from a laceration in your forehead where Mark had bashed your head into the car as he tried to force you inside. You had no idea that your neck looked raw and red, already revealing broken blood vessels and the obvious start of bruising from his hands around your throat. There was almost a visible hand impression on your upper arm where he’d grabbed you. “You—you took both of them but Daryl didn’t—”

The officer and the EMTs continued trying to calm you down. You glanced over your shoulder and noticed that most of the patrons had skipped out as soon as they’d heard the sirens, or perhaps as soon as Charlie had run for the phone. There were only a couple left and of course Charlie as well being questioned. You rounded on the cop again. “Just take me down to the station! I’ll give you a statement and then—then you have to let Daryl go! He didn’t do anything wrong. He saved me,” you gasped, the full weight of what had happened still not hitting you.

“Ma’am, you need stitches,” one of the EMTs told you gently. “Come on. We need to go to the hospital.” His partner pushed the cop back who was intent only on questioning you.

It was like all of a sudden, the adrenaline in your bloodstream vanished and you were exhausted and the pain started to set in. You glanced back over your shoulder and met Charlie’s eyes, he nodded and gave you a worried look before you turned back to the cop and the EMTs. “My—my purse is—” you gestured to where it was lying beside your car.

“We’ll have someone bring it to you after we get photographs, okay?” the cop said. You allowed yourself to be guided into the ambulance, shock starting to set in.

The doctors in the ER wouldn’t let the police question you while they patched you up and you were grateful for that. Besides, there was no chance of what had happened fading in your memory. To the contrary, every bit of it was burned in your mind despite how fast it had all happened. But you needed a goddamn minute to process it. He was out. How the fuck was he out of jail? And why the fuck hadn’t anyone warned you? You’d just stopped beside your car, ready to put the key in the lock when something hit you hard in the head from behind and you remembered dropping to your knees, stunned and with black vision. You’d heard his voice and made a break for the door into the bar. You’d actually gotten your hand on the handle and pushed but you were grabbed and pulled back violently. And then you’d just fought as hard as you could, tooth and nail. You knew if you got into that car, there was a good chance you were going to end up dead. He wasn’t in his right mind.

It was hard to believe this was the same Mark you’d been in a relationship with. He’d never been the least bit violent toward you, but the drugs… as soon as he started using again, he was a different person. But even then, even after he’d beat you up, you never would have expected this.

Once you’d been treated and released at the hospital, you found yourself sitting in the police station with a little Styrofoam cup of tea clutched between your hands, and some cop’s coat draped around your shoulders. The interview room was uncomfortably cold, but the numbness of shock and disbelief superseded the sensation of the chill air, though you were vaguely aware that you were shivering.

A detective came in and sat across from you at the little table and you looked up at him as he settled into his chair. He sighed heavily and leaned forward, readying his pen over his notepad. “I’m Detective Peters,” he said, checking his watch. “It is Thursday, April 28th, and 10 minutes past 11.” You’d given a statement just days earlier. You knew how this worked. You knew he was marking the date and time for the recording that the little, inconspicuous camera up in the corner was taking. “Alright, Y/N. I’m really sorry to see you again so soon under these circumstances.” He was the detective who was handling your domestic violence case too.

“Yeah, well, so am I,” you said, gritting your teeth a little. The numbness receded a little and was replaced by anger. “How the fuck is it that he was out of jail? He tried to kill me. How was he out? And why didn’t anyone contact me?” you demanded.

“He bonded out. And, yes, I’m sorry… we should have notified you. But we never considered him to be this much of a danger.”

“You never considered him to be this much of a danger?” you repeated incredulously. “We discussed a protection order. I don’t think that implies that everything is peachy.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry.” He paused. “But we need to go over everything that happened tonight and get a statement from you.”

“I’ve already been questioned three times,” you said, exhausted and exasperated. “Why did you arrest Daryl? He saved me. He’s the reason I’m sitting here right now instead of being… I don’t know, maybe dead in a ditch somewhere. Are you still holding him? Is he still here?”

“It was chaos when the officers got there. We need to get everyone’s statements to sort this all out, okay? We didn’t know who was the aggressor or—”

You sighed heavily and shook your head. “Fine. Let’s just do the statement.” You walked him through everything that had happened and consented to have more pictures taken of your injuries; the laceration on your scalp, the bruises around your neck, the handprint on your arm, the scrapes and bruises and cuts on your knees. By the end of it you were so tired you weren’t seeing straight, but the detective stood up and you glanced up when you sensed he was looking down at you.

“Wait here just a few more minutes. I’ll be back,” he said. He left you alone in that little room again and you slumped forward, resting your head on your arms at the little table, completely spent and hurting all over. You weren’t sure how much time had passed when Detective Peters came back in.

“Y/N? Follow me,” he said. You obeyed and walked blindly after him through the station until he unlocked a heavy metal door and pushed through into a room lined with a couple holding cells.

You perked up and breezed past him, scanning the room for Daryl immediately. He jumped up from where he’d been slumped on a metal bench in one of the cells as you rushed over to him. He met you at the bars. “Are you okay?” you asked him urgently. You ignored the twinge in your forehead from your stitches as you furrowed your brow.

“Me? Are ya kiddin’?” he drawled, peering down at you with nothing but concern. “Are you?” His stomach twisted at the sight of your injuries.

You knew you couldn’t get any words out through the bubble of emotion caught in your throat so you only nodded. The clinking of keys behind you drew your attention and you stepped back as Detective Peters moved forward. He slid a key into the heavy lock and turned it, sliding the cell open and gesturing to Daryl that he could exit.

“I’m sorry about throwing you in here,” the detective said. “Everything in your statements matches up, so you’re free to go, with my thanks.” He extended a hand toward Daryl who eyed it with distaste for a moment.

“I don’t want yer thanks. I want ya to do a goddamn better job. This was too fuckin’ close. Never shoulda happened,” he spat. The detective looked regretful and nodded, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Daryl,” you said softly, gently grabbing his arm, trying to reroute the conversation. You were just grateful that he was no longer in a cell. Daryl’s eyes met yours and his expression softened immediately.

Detective Peters sighed. “I’ve got one of my guys waiting to drive you both home. Y/N, they have your items for you up front too. Again… I’m really sorry. But I can assure you that Mark won’t be getting out anytime soon after this.”

“The fuck is wrong with the damn laws? Girl almost had to die before ya’ll got up off your asses,” Daryl spat angrily again. You gently touched his arm again and he relaxed some, glancing down at you and sighing.

As you were settling into the squad car to be driven home, Daryl felt your eyes on his face and he glanced over and took in the wide-eyed expression underneath the fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted you.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “Could I—I’ve got no right to ask you for anything after what you’ve already done but… could I ask you for another favor?” you said quietly.

Daryl stared back at you intently, feeling suddenly nervous under your eyes. If you’d asked him for the moon at that moment, he would have fucking figured out how to give it to you. He nodded. “Course.”

You wrung your hands nervously. “I’d feel better if—if you’d stay at my place tonight. I know it isn’t rational and that he’s—he’s locked up but I’d feel safer. But if that’s too much to ask I completely understand. You’ve already done more than enough and I—”

“Ain’t no problem. I’ll stay,” he said simply. You thought of him as safety. He didn’t think anyone in his life had ever seen him that way.

You felt a wave of relief and it was visible on your face. You shut your eyes briefly, again feeling beyond exhausted and hurting almost head to toe. “Thank you,” you breathed. “Thank you.”

Daryl nodded and ripped his eyes away from you. You leaned forward and gave your address to the cop and in no time you were both climbing out at the end of your driveway.

You stood at the front door and dug your keys out of your purse. Daryl noticed how much you were shaking as you tried to fit the key into the lock and his face contorted with concern. “Here,” he said gently, his hand enclosing over yours and taking the key from you before slotting it into the lock. His heart jumped at the contact and he did his best to ignore it. Now wasn’t the damn time.

“Thanks,” you murmured, accepting the keys from him again and pushing inside ahead of him.

Daryl softly shut and locked the door behind the two of you and stood a little awkwardly on the front mat. You moved stiffly across the front room and into the kitchen, clicking on the light. Daryl heard you shifting some things around before you returned with a cloth in one hand and a small bag of ice in the other.

You nudged your head toward the couch and he anxiously chewed on his bottom lip but obeyed and took a seat. You sank down beside him, your eyelids heavy with exhaustion, but he knew better than to argue as you pulled his hand over toward you and dabbed at the dried blood across his knuckles. They were split and puffy from their repeated connection with that prick’s face. Worth it. When you were satisfied that they were cleaned up enough, you laid the cloth and then the ice across them and glanced up at his face.

There seemed to be something you wanted to say, something in your expression that took Daryl aback, but before he could decode it, it vanished and you just looked defeated and weary. Daryl swallowed his nerves and nodded at you. “Go on to bed. I’ll be right here all night,” he said.

You gave him another long look before nodding and climbing to your feet with no small amount of effort. “Thank you,” you said, and you hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper, but it did. He only nodded back before ducking his head and avoiding your gaze, feeling a little overwhelmed. You managed to trudge to your bedroom and practically poured yourself into bed, still in all your clothes. Feeling safe, knowing Daryl was out on the couch, you sank into a heavy sleep almost immediately.

The next morning you awoke early with the birds, stiff and aching. You clutched a hand to your head, wincing when it landed flush onto the stitches in your forehead. “Fuck,” you muttered, climbing out of bed. You went straight for the bathroom and took some painkillers, pausing to run a comb through your hair and wash your face. You tenderly touched the bruises on your neck and your arm and frowned. You looked a proper mess… You felt a wave of shame and embarrassment before struggling to shove those feelings down. You changed, feeling a little better, and quietly moving through the house, heading for the kitchen and the coffee pot.

Daryl was laid out on the couch, still fast asleep and your heart jumped at the sight of him there. He had his head resting on one of the throw pillows and was stretched out, legs crossed at the ankles, hands resting on his stomach. You couldn’t help but smile at how boyish he looked asleep and there was a wash of heat running through you as you finally tore your eyes away and padded softly into the kitchen.

Coffee brewing, you pulled ingredients out of the fridge and went about making some breakfast. In the other room, Daryl woke up to the sound of you cooking and the smell of bacon. He sat up and shifted on the couch, stretching and feeling a little self-conscious that you had obviously walked through and seen him asleep. He hastily ran his fingers through his hair, trying to smooth down any craziness that might be going on.

Your voice from the doorway into the kitchen drew his eyes. “Hey. Morning.”

You had a goddamn smile for him. Despite what you’d gone through the previous night, you were smiling. At him.

“Hey,” he returned. “Ya get some sleep?”

You nodded and stepped out into the living room, a mug in your hand. “I did.” You were sure your face was coloring pink. “Thanks for staying. Um, do you drink coffee?” you asked, gesturing with the cup in your hands.

He nodded. “Sure,” he said, climbing to his feet. You met him halfway and pushed the mug into his hands. The ceramic was warm and Daryl looked down at the spirals of steam curling away from the surface.

You disappeared for a moment and returned with your own mug. “I’ve got breakfast cooking if you’re hungry,” you said, sinking down onto the now empty couch. Daryl gulped and took a spot at the other end from you.

You took a sip, annoyed at how fast your heart was racing as you looked at the handsome biker on the other end of your couch. “How’s your hand?” you asked him.

He pulled it off the mug and flexed and curled his fingers a few times. It was deeply bruised and the knuckles were definitely still swollen. “S’fine,” he drawled. In truth it hurt, but far less than looking at what was left on your skin from what you’d endured. “How are ya?” A shadow darkened his face for a moment with worry.

You nodded a little hesitantly. “I’ll be okay. Took some painkillers so…”

Daryl pulled his bottom lip in between his teeth and chewed on it anxiously for a moment. “‘M real sorry any of this happened to ya. Ya don’t deserve that.”

You gulped nervously. “Thanks…” You gave him another little smile, this one a little sad, but it seemed like your face brightened quickly again as you looked at him. He ducked his head.

In truth, Daryl couldn’t believe this was real. He’d pined after you for years, subsisting purely on a quick smile here and a word there as you simply did your job. If someone had told him a month earlier that he’d be sitting your house with you sipping coffee he would have thought they were batshit crazy. This was a long way from waking up in that dingy, smoky motel room with Merle bitching about needing another fix even before he could throw the blankets off. He’d never dared to think he would have anything like this, anything nice and normal. Not that he really had it… But even if this was a temporary, singular event it was doing something like filling him up and showing him that life wasn’t all just shit.

You were studying him as he seemed lost in thought, occasionally taking a sip of coffee, and you watched some anxiety cross his face. “C’mon and eat something with me. It’s the least I can do,” you said, nudging your head in the direction of the kitchen. Daryl glanced up and nudged his nose up in a nod before following you in.

You grinned a few minutes later as you sat across from each other at your little kitchen table and Daryl ate ravenously. He was suddenly self-conscious as he realized you were staring at him and he hastily wiped his mouth on his sleeve, but you only leaned your chin on your hand and continued looking at him with that little smile on your lips. It didn’t seem to belong there when you had fresh stitches and bruises. “Hmm?” he prompted, sensing there was something on your mind.

You shrugged and finally looked back down at your own plate. “Nothing. This is—this is nice,” you said.

Daryl gulped. “What is?”

“I don’t know. Just… this. Breakfast with you.”

Daryl’s heart jumped but he nodded in agreement, trying his hardest not to give in to the thoughts of self-doubt and inadequacy. It was nice. It was more than nice. He felt like he had fallen through a wormhole into an alternate reality.

You set your mug down and gave him a long look. “I’m a little surprised you weren’t scared away,” you admitted. “I wouldn’t blame you if you had wanted to just distance yourself from the girl with the psycho ex… Go back to me just being your waitress at the bar.” You twirled your mug in your hands, looking anywhere but at him.

Daryl’s brow furrowed and he studied your somewhat ashamed expression. “Nah. None of this is your fault. And—anything I can do to help, I’ll do it.”

Your eyes shot up to his face and this time his blue eyes held yours steadily. You didn’t know inside he was reeling. The atmosphere between the two of you felt suddenly thick and heavy, charged with electricity and hopeful expectations. Right when you were about to say something, or maybe do something the phone rang and you were startled out of that bubble of tension. You jumped a little and laughed abashedly before going to answer it.

Daryl let out a breath he hadn’t been holding and climbed to his feet, grabbing the dishes and piling them into the sink simply for something to do while you were on the phone. It was a quick call and when you turned around Daryl was rubbing a hand a bit nervously over the back of his neck. “Well, thanks for breakfast. I should probably get goin. Get outta yer hair’,” he drawled. He was sure you’d had enough of him by now.

“Oh,” you said. Wait, did that sound like disappointment?

Daryl gulped. “Ya should rest today. Take it easy,” he said. You nodded and wrung your hands a little nervously.

“I’ll try,” you said. You followed him out into the front room and watched as he pulled the door open and stepped outside, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “Thanks again. For… saving my life and staying and…” you trailed off.

Daryl was very aware that his heart was racing and that there suddenly seemed to be an expanding empty space between his lungs as he got ready to walk down your steps. “Yeah, uhh… don’t mention it. I’ll see ya.”

You gave him one final small smile and he turned away, giving you a clear view of the wings on the back of his vest. Something about the sight of those jolted you out of your hesitation and into action. You squeezed your eyes shut and swore under your breath, stepping out onto the stairs and touching his shoulder.

Daryl turned back in surprise and saw you looking a little wide-eyed and breathless. “Ya alright?”

You gulped down your nerves and looped your arms around his neck, your eyes closing as you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, one of your hands moving to clasp his face, feeling the angles of his jaw and the stubble on his skin. It was soft and sweet, but your nerves got the better of you and you pulled back, anxious to take in his expression. He was on the step below you so his blue eyes were even with yours and you thought they were a little searching or maybe a little stunned.

His hands were suddenly on your waist, and it made him flush with heat, his eyes flickering between yours. His heart was pounding so hard and so fast he was worried you’d hear it. “Uhh… are ya sure this is a good idea right now?” he asked in that sweet southern drawl of his.

He watched a faint smile cross your lips and you nodded, your arms around his neck still. “Yeah. Best idea I’ve had in a long time.”

Daryl didn’t need any more encouragement. One of his hands pressed into the small of your back and pulled you into him while the other floated to clasp your face and tangle into your hair. Your lips crashed together, needy and sweet at first but building in heat as you both realized how long you had wanted this and how much better it was than you had even hoped. You smiled into his lips and pulled him more tightly into you, pressing your body against his. Daryl’s lips softened against yours and his hand smoothed through your hair to the nape of your neck as you pulled back just enough to look into each other’s eyes.

“Come back inside,” you breathed, running your fingers through his hair.

His eyes closed at the sensation and he nervously licked his lips. “If ya want me to.” He needed to hear it for it to be true, for this to be real.

You grinned at him, biting your bottom lip. “I want you to. Daryl, I—I wanted to kiss you last night. As soon as you were out of that stupid jail cell, but… I didn’t want you to think I was only doing it because I was—scared or concussed or something… So, come back inside and spend the day with me... Please?”

His expression softened and his lips curved in a small smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He nudged his nose up in a nod. “Alright,” he said, understated for the wild happiness and disbelief he was truly feeling. You were solid underneath his hands. His palm was flush to your lower back and you were leaning into him. “Anythin’ ya want.”

You shook your head at him and gave him a fond look. “Just you.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Please please please can we see Joanne reacting to the Chris saves himself au???

The Chris Saves Himself AU: One | Two | Three

CW: Whumper POV, abusive family member, ableist, ableism, pet whump universe

Jo's sitting at an outdoor cafe, sipping a hot cup of fresh coffee while the ocean beats against the Hawaiian sand. She's waiting on her breakfast and has a book open in front of her she has yet to read.

The sky and the water are nearly the same blue. It's dazzling. She can't take her eyes off it.

She's here for work, helping with getting a newly-opened WRU Facility off the ground. There have been protests, of course - Hawaiians have protested WRU making inroads pretty viciously, and Jo is glad for the secret employee entrance she uses so that the residents of this place don't know who she works for. Still, WRU is paying for the extended-stay hotel and three meals a day, and her nephew's inheritance pays for the drinks.

She cuts the thought before his face can enter her mind.

She dreams about him slumped over, mumbling about how tired he was, sometimes. Once the sedatives kicked in, anyway. She'd been irritated the first round didn't seem to work, and then worried she'd accidentally overdosed him after the second.

But no. No, the Acquisitions team had assured her he would be considered in perfect condition. And her finder's fee and bonus had really emphasized that he was.

Whatever. That problem is solved.

Joanne sighs, wistful. There are already people in the water, even at dawn. She can hear laughter filtering up from the beach.

It's beautiful.

Ronnie would have loved Hawaii. They had always planned to go together, before their falling-out.

Too bad her fucking husband and stupid brat dragged her down with them. Too bad the husband was a shitheel Irish mob asshole, too bad Ronnie's son was a piece of fucking work, too bad the stupid bastard couldn't stay hidden the one time it counted...

Joanne sniffs and wipes at the corner of her eye. Grief is hard - it comes and goes. But at least Tristan isn't her problem any longer.

He's probably happy as a clam doing someone's fucking gardening somewhere. Joanne simply refuses to admit that isn't at all what he is likely to be used for. It doesn't matter.

What she doesn't know, she isn't legally responsible for.

Lost in her thoughts, Joanne doesn't notice the uniformed officers who enter the cafe behind her. She takes a photo of the morning sun as an officer holds up a photocopied piece of paper to the server behind the counter. She posts the phot to her Instagram with #islandliving is the life for me! as the server points her direction and the officer nods and thanks them for their help.

She has missed calls and texts on her phone, but she'll check those later. Jo never looks at her phone before 8 am anymore. It makes everything much more peaceful.

She sees the first couple likes trickle in as the officer speaks to his partner and the two of them head her direction.

"Joanne Botham?"

She's startled out of her thoughts by the officer's voice and looks up to blink at the woman, her straight black hair in a low ponytail and expression stern. Jo feels an instinctive beat of apprehension. "Yes, that's me. Can I help you, officer?"

The officer has an odd look to her. Not hostile, but... not friendly. "Joanne Botham, resides at 435 Janus Way, in Berras, California? Employed by WRU?"

Her heart beats faster and Jo sets her phone down. Then picks up her coffee. "Yes. Is something wrong with my house?"

"No. Do you recognize this individual?"

The officer holds up another printed out photo and Jo's stomach falls to her knees and firmly lodges there. She drops her coffee, mug shattering on the floor, ceramics and liquid everywhere. The officer doesn't even flinch.

It's her fucking nephew.

It's Tristan in a hospital bed, looks like, staring at the camera with wide uncomprehending eyes. His hair is shorter than it used to be, and there is a ring of bruising around his neck, more bruises littered over his collarbone and shoulders.

She has a sudden wild urge to say she's never seen him before. Instead, she swallows and repeats the story she's practiced over and over until she's sure she can pass any lie detector test. "Yes. That's my late sister's son, Tristan. He ran away after their deaths. I thought he was dead."

The officer doesn't argue, just nods. "I see. Well, Ms. Botham, what would you say if I told you that your nephew is alive?"

Jo looks carefully, believably surprised. "He is? Where did you find him? I looked everywhere I could think of!"

"Did you?" The way the officer asks the question tells Jo there is a piece of the puzzle she hasn't seen yet... and it won't be something she likes. "Well, you'll be relieved to hear he was found alive."

"Yes... yes, I am. Relieved."

She's furious.

That little shit is going to ruin her life all over again, isn't he? She'll set his inheritance on fire before she lets him see a dollar. WRU was supposed to make it so she never saw him again.

She should have kept him locked in his room and left him there.

"I'll fly back home right away to see him," She says, a distant ringing filling her mind. "Where is he?"

"Your nephew is receiving medical care. Let's head down to the station. I'll fill you in on the details when we get there."

"Well-... Of course, officer, but I need to call my workplace-"

"We are already in contact with WRU, Ms. Botham. They are aware that you will not be in to work today. A WRU representative will be at the station."

Joanne takes in a breath and slowly lets it out. "I... I need a lawyer, don't I?"

"That's up to you, ma'am. All we want to do is talk. Please come with me." The officer steps back and gestures. Joanne stands, and the beauty of the day is suddenly lost on her entirely.

"Am I being charged with something?" Her voice is faint, suddenly. She swallows hard. "Am I being-"

"The only charged so far are laid against Governor Oliver Branch, ma'am."

"Against who?"

"Ma'am. Please come with me." There's a hand on her elbow and Joanne stumbles along. At the counter, the server is taping this, streaming it live. Jo glances up at the television over in the corner ceiling to see a news anchor talking about a WRU-branded human pet falling out of a balcony at the California governor's mansion and the resulting scandal.

Joanne thinks of all those missed calls on her phone.

"They're blaming me, aren't they?" She asks, coming to a sudden stop on the sidewalk outside. "They're blaming me! I'm going to be the fall guy, right?"

"Get in the car, Ms. Botham," The officer says firmly. One hand moves to her hip. "We can discuss this at the station."

Joanne sees the server with their phone out, following. The stupid little ass is smiling. They think this is funny.

It occurs to Jo they knew who she worked for all along.

She turns and with wild eyes yells, "WRU knew! I did nothing wrong! They knew!"

She's going to need one hell of a lawyer.

She's going to need a miracle.

She suddenly wishes she hadn't spent so much of Tristan's money. She could've used it for her legal fees.

-

@burtlederp @finder-of-rings @endless-whump @astrobly @newandfiguringitout @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @what-a-whump @whumptywhumpdump @downriver914 @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @eatyourdamnpears @whumpfessional

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Small Town Secrets

Warnings: noncon/rape, mentions of cheating, fuck machine, oral, blackmail, no edit.

This is dark!Lee Bodecker and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The sheriff knows your secret and wants to share it.

Based on these drabble requests:

Lee Bodecker + “I’ve done so much for you, don’t you think you owe me?” + Blackmail + (I hope you can do this) I would like to consider this as a form of continuation of the story that you uploaded a while ago, it does not have to be this way if you do not feel comfortable. Lee continues to blackmail the waitress, when he is in the restaurant talking to her, he sees how her husband arrives to spend time with her and he gets jealous, so when he goes to see her at night he decides to make her his forever so he gives her the gift of having his babies [Sorry I will not be continuing this fic in a drabble if I do a sequel but I am more than happy to write a drabble with your prompts)

Lee Bodecker + “I heard you last night. I hear you every night.” + fuck machine + As always I’m leaving it up to you @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog​

Lee Bodecker + “You took the condom off?” + Blackmail + Lee forces himself on the reader one day and she tells him to at least put a condom and he never does and then that line comes on when he says something and she realizes he took it off and will impregnate her.

You poured another cup for the sheriff and took out your cloth to wipe away a clumsy dribble from the table. You tucked the rag back into your apron as Bodecker reached for the sugar bowl. 

“Anything else?” you asked. The diner was dead, it was almost midnight as the sheriff came off duty.

“How about you sit?” he looked around, “isn’t very busy and you don’t need to be prancing around on my behalf.

“I really shouldn’t--”

“Oh come on, Jethro’s home sleepin’, he won’t know you been sittin’ on the clock,” he coaxed, “and ‘sides, I’d say I outrank him.”

You looked at him and hesitated. You put your hand on the corner of the table and slid onto the seat opposite him. You set down the carafe lightly. He stirred his coffee and watched the cream swirl and pale the brew. His lips twitched as his eyes flicked up.

“I heard you last night…” he said.

“What?” you chuckled.

“I heard you last night. I hear you every night,” his tongue poked out and he sat back smugly, “sneaking into Lawrence Hayes’ Chrysler, just outside the old hole down on Tulsa Avenue.”

You frowned. You gulped as your blood ran cold and you tried not to flinch.

“I don’t know what you mean, sheriff, and I should get back to my work,” you tried to stand and he caught your hand on the table top. He jerked your arm and you sat back down.

“You think Annie Hayes would be interested to know what you’re doin’ with her husband?” he arched a brow, “not hard to guess but considerin’ what I’ve heard, I can be assured my guess is correct.”

You stared at him. You ripped your wrist from his grasp and crossed your arms.

“Why are you bringing this up, then?” you hissed.

“How ‘bout you meet me down on Tulsa tonight,” he smirked, “don’t worry, I treat you better than Larry, I ain’t like fuckin’ in no back seat.”

You looked at the carafe. You glanced over at the kitchen then at the clock above the counter.

“I don’t get off till four a.m.,” you said.

“I can wait,” he gulped down and mouthful and watched you over the cup, “I already been waitin’.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

“I’ve done so much for you, don’t you think you owe me?” he taunted.

“Done what?”

“Kept your secret. You really wanna be known as the town whore?” he tilted his head, “nah, we can keep that ‘tween you and me.”

👮🏻‍♂️

The sheriff drove in silence. The anticipation and the knowledge of his intent kept you quiet too. His wandering eyes found you in the mirror as he pulled up to a house outside your small town. The sheriff lived out in the fields among the farmhouse, almost at the very centre of his county.

His door closing jarred you from your dread. He opened yours and grabbed your arm. The gravel gritted under your thin soles as he swept his arm around your waist and ushered you up the porch steps. The leather of his jacket squeaked as he pulled back the screen door and pushed open the thicker one.

He nudged you ahead of him and took off his hat. He hung it on a hook by the door and bent to untie his boots.

“Do me a favour, honey,” he said, “you go up and get yourself ready for me. Last door to the right.”

“I…” your voice trailed off, “I don’t…”

“Get naked, relax,” he snipped as he stood and kicked off his boots, “I’ll bring you something ease your nerves.”

You looked away and turned slowly. You went to the stairs and paused as your hand rested on the bannister. He passed by the steps and continued down the lower hallway. You climbed heavily and followed his direction to the last room. You looked around at the flowered canopy and the patched quilt.

You remembered the sheriff’s wife died a few years back. Everyone heard about that, they said he was crueler since then. In that moment, you would agree with them.

You undressed a piece at a time and shivered. You thought of keeping your clothes on and escaping through the window but you’d only hurt yourself in the drop down. You wouldn’t far neither out in the fields.

You sat on the end of the bed, legs crossed and arms hugging your chest. The dawn began to brighten outside the panes and the morning nip made you shiver. Bodecker entered and set down a glass in the dim. He flipped on a lamp and looked you over. He brought you the dark wine in the tall pint glass.

“You drink that down while I get set up,” he said, “you gonna want to drink it all.”

You took it and watched him. He snapped his fingers at you as he went to the closet. You turned away and sipped the acrid wine. It made your nose wrinkle and your throat tighten. You heard a creak and but kept staring at the door, your escape taunting you. You could leave but that meant your reputation and possibly everything else.

You’d come this far, you thought. You knocked back a large mouthful and coughed. You finished the rest and your chest burned darkly. You got up to put the glass aside and shyly spun back to the sheriff as he came up to the side of the bed.

You gaped at the odd machine he wheeled closer. The big wooden box had an arm attached to it and rubber extension in the shape of a man’s member. You covered yourself again and shook your swimming head.

“Go on,” he pointed to the bed, “on your knees there, let me see your ass.” You blinked at the odd machine and he huffed, “you’re makin’ me real tired of repeating myself.”

You got closer and crawled up on the bed, all pretense of modesty gone as you turned and exposed yourself to him. Your arms shook as you turned your ass to face him and his large hand spread across your flesh. He slapped you and groaned as you heard the wheels. He pushed it so that the rubber poked your ass.

“Get on higher,” he grabbed your hip and repositioned you, “that’s it.”

The rubber tip poked at your cunt and he slid a finger between you and the toy. He felt around until he found your clit and stoked with two fingers until you quivered. You bit back your voice as the cool air and the wine mingled with your reluctant arousal.

“Alright,” he pulled back his hand and pushed the machine against you once more. He guided your hips and rolled the machine to the very edge of the bed until it stretched your walls. You squeaked as he sheathed the entire length inside of you. “Now hold still and keep your legs locked,” he tickled your thigh, “we’ll go slow.”

He flicked the switch and the toy moved back. It shot forward again, then back, the forward, a steady but easy motion as you grew wet around it. You looked over your shoulder and he slapped your ass again. You clenched around the toy and he pointed over your head.

“Eyes forward,” he said, “I’ll give you something to focus on.”

He fiddled with the machine until the arm moved faster, a mechanical whir bit through the air. You groaned as your body responded to the constant fucking. Bodecker came around and walked across the bed on his knees. He undid his fly and pulled himself out. He stroked his dick as he grabbed the back of your head.

“I bet you ain’t never had it from both ends,” he purred and pressed his tip to your lips, “don’t even know what it is to be filled up completely.”

He shoved himself into your mouth and you gagged around him. Your throat squeezed around him as he invaded it and he soon matched the pace of the machine. His hips bucked as he moans floated around you. You hummed helplessly as your breath grew laboured and your eyes watered.

Your body tensed as the machine made you cum. You whined and the sheriff caressed your scalp with his fingers as he slowed your head. He slid out of your mouth and watched the strings of spit hang from your lips. He winked and growled as he backed off the bed.

“That wine must make you feel so good,” he said, “makes it easy, don’t it?”

He went around you and stopped the machine. He pulled it out of you and you twitched. He wheeled it back and you pushed your legs together.

“Don’t you worry,” he went to the dresser and turned back with a square in his hand. He peeled open the condom and slid it onto his hard dick as he neared, “we don’t want an accident now.”

He went behind you and pushed your ass down until you were on your stomach. He climbed up and kneaded your ass and thighs before he straddled you completely. He forced his hand between your legs and angled his dick against your opening. He leaned on you heavily, his arm across your shoulder and thrust into you.

You lifted your ass you ached around him. He went even deeper, the wool of his pants and his linen shirt scratching your sweaty skin. He moved his hips evenly, his hot breath against the back of your head, panting hungrily as he fucked you.

“You like that?” he asked, “Tell me Hayes ever make you feel like this?”

You groaned and pushed your face into the quilt. Your fingers curled around the stitches and you arched your back. He pulled back, entirely out of you, and slammed back into his limit. He jerked your body entirely and you cried out. He repeated the motion over and over, each time he seemed to sink further than the last.

“Mmm, any man’d keep this a secret, huh?” he purred.

Your head lolled back and forth, you whined and drooled like an animal as he rutted into you. Your walls tightened around him and your thighs tingled with another orgasm. You barely smothered it against the blanket but he kept going.

“I’m gonna give you a nice little gift,” he snarled, “we’ll see if he still wants you after.”

He slammed into you and you spasmed. He puffed into your neck as his weight made your body ache. He came with a tortured groan and you felt a warmth seep into you. Your eyes snapped open and you turned your head.

You shoved your hand down under you as he pulled out and threw himself off of you. He fell onto his back as his cum dripped down your fingers.

 “You took the condom off?” you rolled over and sat up.

“Mmm, you like keepin’ secrets, don’t you?” he sneered, “that’ll be a tough one.”

👮🏻‍♂️ 👮🏻‍♂️ 👮🏻‍♂️

Reblog and let me know what you think! Please and thank you!

[lily-drake]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO TIMOTHY JACKSON DRAKE-WAYNE, THE BEST BAT BOY OF THEM ALL!!! YOU CAN’T CHANGE MY MIND!!!!!!

Happy Birthday Tim

Tim never really cared for his birthday, afterall nobody ever remembered it, and he doubted that Bruce would care.  He had never shown much of an interest in him, which was fine since he wasn’t supposed to get close to him.  His entire job as Robin was to make sure Batman didn’t go crazy, he wasn’t supposed to get attached.  So he didn’t, at least that’s what he told himself.  It was around 10:45 PM when Tim went upstairs at Alfred’s request.  Timidly the 14 year old walked into the kitchen only to be met with a small white cake.  Upon closer inspection the cake had red and green letting that spelled out in neat scroll, “Happy Birthday Timothy” with perfectly cut strawberries decorating the sides.  Tim stared at the cake in awe, he’d never been given a birthday cake before, except at galas; but that didn’t count as he wasn’t really aloud to eat any.

“Good to see you up here Master Timothy.  Happy birthday young sir.  I apologize for the others absence, but I’m afraid that they are ‘busy’.”

Tim swiftlet lifted up his arms in a placating manner,

“Oh no, it’s fine.  Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t want to bother anyone.”

Alfred gave him a small smile and nodded.

“Well, I believe that it is time for a bit of cake.”

Alfred walked around the counter and pulled out a plate, for, and knife before he cut a large piece and plated it.  Tim held back tears as he took his first bite of the cake.  This was the best cake he had ever had, and this was definitely his favorite birthday.

*******

Tim stared at the computer screen in front of him trying to figure out what he was missing.  He was tired, he hadn’t slept in a few days, and he was on his 8th cup of coffee from that hour alone.

“Tim, come with me!”

Dick said, suddenly on his right side.  Out of habit he turned and threw a punch at him.  Dick quickly ducked and laughed.

“Your getting faster baby bird.”

Tim sighed and rolled his eyes turning back to the computer.

“What do you need, Dick?”

He asked typing something onto the screen and scrunching his brow in frustration at the facts in front of him.  Dick rolled his eyes and sighed before he grabbed Tim and pulled him from the computer chair and onto his feet.  Tim groaned and tried to pull away in protest, but Dick overpowered him and he was dragged up the stairs.  Tim looked around to see where he was so he could make a quick escape if necessary.  When he looked forward again he saw he was being dragged to one of the main room doors.  He was thinking and going through all of the things he could have missed or forgotten, but nothing came to mind.  When the door opened the lights were off until they suddenly turned on and loud voices screamed,

“Happy birthday!”

From all around the room.  Tim blinked a few times everything catching up to him as he looked around and saw his family; Bruce, Alfred, Barbara, Stephanie, Cass, and Dick all around him.  The room was covered in decorations and on the table sat a decent sized 3 tier cake, just like the one he had had when turned fourteen, but bigger.  Tim ran through his memory and tried to recall what the date was and froze.  Oh, it was his 16th birthday, he had forgotten all about it.  He was pulled out of his stooped by Steph grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the table were 16 candles lined the rim of the cake and in the center it said, “Happy 16th Birthday Tim!” in the neatest cursive with a robin made of frosting right below it.  There was also neatly plated and perfectly made sushi on another table near them.  Tim smiled as everyone began to sing happy birthday to him and when he was done he blew out the candles happy and content with his day.  There was so much warmth that spread through his chest as he talked and ate cake with his family.  So much joy that surrounded the manor, he even saw Bruce smile.  Tim didn’t need to wish for anything, he was happy, and that’s all he could ever wish for.

*******

Tim looked at his watch and frowned.  He was now officially 19, but it didn’t matter, nothing mattered much now.  He was alone in Paris training with Lady Shiva, and his family didn’t care.  They were the ones who kicked him out afterall, he wasn’t wanted.  He sat under a shady tree bench in the park and watched as people talked and interacted with eachother.  It was peaceful, but that didn’t fill the hollowness he felt in his chest.  As he stood and began to walk away he felt someone crash into him and fell foreword, someone landing on his back.  Quickly the person got up and began to call out apologies obviously embarrassed.  Tim got up and turned around and came face to face with a girl about his age with dark black hair that tinted blue in the light and show startlingly bright bluebell eyes.  The girl was still talking and he wasn’t sure if she had even breathed yet.

“Hey, it’s ok.  Don’t worry about it.”

The girl immediately bit her lip and bowed her head as she tried to hide her face.  Tim smiled at the girl who was slightly shorter than him.

“I’m Tim.”

He said casually as he held out his hand.  The girl gave an awkward smile before excepting his hand and giving it a firm shake.

“Marinette.  Sorry again.”

“It’s nice to meet you Marinette.  Do you know where any good coffee shops are, I haven’t slept in a while and I really need a pick me up to finish my things.”

Marinette lit up and nodded.

“I totally understand.  I design and commissions keep me up all night half the time.  I live in a bakery and have concocted the best wake up coffee.  My friends say it’s very dangerous and I’m going to kill myself with it one day, but all well.  Why sleep when you can get things done?!”

Tim smiled at the girl as she began to walk and talk.  She was cute and was very dramatic in the way she spoke and expressed herself.  They walked across the street to a small bakery, the one Marinette must live in, and walked to the front where a short Asian woman stood near the register.  When the woman saw Marinette her smile grew as she welcomed them.

“I’m gonna make one of my specials for him!”

Marinette called out as she went to the back and started making some kind of coffee concoction.  The woman rolled her eyes, but she still held an amused smile.

“Hello, I’m Sabine.  Please choose a sweet, you’ll need it if you’re going to drink her “Miracle Cure”, as the college students like to call it.”

“Thank miss.  Please, call me Tim.”

He said giving her a small smile back as he browsed the selection.  In the display he noticed lots of animal themed treats and smiled.  There were many ladybug and cat themed ones as well as an orange fox, a turtle, a bee, a blue snake, a monkey, and a red dragon.  It was an interesting choice of animals and he wondered if they were important in some way here.  He found a small tarte aux fruits with an assortment of fruits that formed the red dragon.  When he looked up he saw the woman waiting for him still wearing her friendly smile.

“Could I please have the Tarte aux fruits du dragon please?”

“Of course dear.”

Carefully she opened the door to the refrigerated case and grabbed one of the fruit tarts and carefully put it in a small box.  Tim went to the register right as Marinette had finished and placed the large drink in front of him.  He pulled out his wallet but was stopped by Marinette’s hand.

“Nope, on the house.  An apology for earlier.”

She said with a bright smile.  Tim was shocked and felt a warmth he hadn’t felt in years begin to bloom once again.  He gently took the coffee from her hands and carefully picked up the small box with a plastic fork atop it.

“Thank you, Marinette.  That’s very kind of you.”

Her smile brightened and before Tim could stop or even think of what he was saying the words had already left his mouth,

“If you’re free, do you want to walk around Paris with me?”

Marinette blinked for a moment shocked, but then smiled again and nodded.

“Sure, that sounds nice!”

She took off the apron she had been wearing while making the coffee and hung it up on a wrack before walking out from behind the counter snd grabbing his arm and almost dragging him out the door.  When she realized what she was doing she quickly dropped it slightly blushing and scratched the back of her neck in embarrassment.

“S-sorry.  I should have asked first.”

Tim snickered a little, she was adorable.

“No it’s fine, so where to first?”

Tim asked as he gently placed the tart in his satchel and sipped the coffee.  When he did he felt his mind begin to clear and he felt more awake than he had in a long time.  He understood why it was called Miracle Cure now, this stuff was amazing!

“Well, where were you thinking of?”

“I was thinking of going to the Arc de Triomphe then head towards the Effiel Tower.”

Marinette beamed and nodded and began to walk towards the Arc de Triomphe.  She knew the path by heart as she often went there for inspiration.  The two talked the whole way there and bonded over their love of coffee and insomniac tendencies.  As they arrived at their first destination the sat on the steps and watched people pass them.  Tim pulled out the small tart and began to slowly eat it and smiled.  It tasted like Alfred’s cooking, though he didn’t want to admit that this might just be a bit better.  He glanced over at Marinette and noticed that she now had a sketchbook out and was drawing something.  He didn’t want to disturb her as he didn’t like being interrupted when he was really into something and let her draw as he watched the people.  Suddenly there was a loud crash.  He looked up and was shocked to see a giant child walking around smashing and destroying buildings.  He looked over and saw that Marinette had disappeared and he began to panic.

He stood up and began to move so he could get a better place to watch and analyze what was happening so that he could see if he needed to interfere.  He watched silently from a roof and saw a bunch of people begin to surround the child all with the same theme.  His mind flashed to the animals in the bakery and connected the dots as he glanced at all of the different people in animal costumes.  He watched as the Ladybug ordered everyone on the plan and on what to do which lead him to believe that she was the leader of this group.  It only took a few minutes and he watched the cat hero completely destroy a toy car from the giant child’s hand and a purple feather and butterfly flew out.  The ladybug hero quickly caught them and released them into the air.  She threw the object she had summoned into the air and he watched in amazement as thousands, maybe millions, of small ladybugs flew around the damage done and repaired all of it, including the bodies that had not been moving moments ago.

Tim ran back to the Arc de Triomphe and waited there to see if Marinette would come back.  It took a few minutes and then he saw her figure running towards him with panic and worry.

“Tim, I’m so sorry!  Are you ok?  I shouldn’t have left like that, I’m so sorry.”

Tim gave her an awkward smile and nodded.

“It’s fine, you came back afterall.”

She smiled at him and he lifted his arm out for her to take,

“Shall we continue our walk Mademoiselle?”

Tim asked with a slight bow.  Marinette giggled and gave a small curtsy before she placed her hand atop of his.

“Why of course Monsieur.”

They both laughed as they walked.  They enjoyed the silence for a bit before Tim asked what had happened.

Marinette gave him a sad sigh and explained the situation that had been happening in Paris for about 4 years now.  Tim was shocked that this hadn’t made it to the Justuce League, especially if it had been happening for four entire years.  Tim asked a few more questions that Marinette happily answered and they felt happy and content in the warm companionable silence.  Tim thought of all of his past birthdays, and he knew that this one was on the top 5 best list of his favorite birthdays.

[justanobsessedfangirl]

The Sacrifice Part 2 - The Maze Runner Minho Imagine

Request from @elizabeth-brown: hey when your requests will be open can you do 'the maze runner' one with minho. where one day when new greenie was coming up he had letter with him. on it there was written that if they sacrificed y/n they would let everyone out. so keepers decided to vote. most of them voted 'yes' so without any emotions Alby kick y/n into the maze. then minho realized his feelings. y/n survived the maze and WCKED took her. after one year she escaped WCKED and ran into the scorch. Minho missed her miserably. y/n searched the safe heaven. and when Group A searched safe heaven they saw y/n and she was so mad. you can end it however you want either she forgives them or not. and please tag me

Masterlist

Part 1

Author’s Note: Thank you guys so much for the kind words! I really appreciate all of it! :)

Word Count: 3.8k

The sun was rising. You stared up at it as you walked, your cracked lips parted, mouth dry beyond belief. The cloth you’d wrapped around your head was already growing warm. Beneath your long-sleeved shirt and jeans, your body was scarred with sunburns. Your backpack hung heavy on your shoulders and scraped against your back painfully. Still, you kept walking through the sand.

Crumbling buildings lined the barren street. At the end, next to an intersection, you saw one that still had an intact roof. You willed yourself to move faster, but your steps continued in the same plodding manner as before. The sun beat down heavier.

A dry wind whispered past, bringing swirls of sand to flight. They looked beautiful in the golden rays of the morning but cut like glass as they whipped past your cheeks. With a grimace, you reached a weathered hand up and pulled some loose cloth farther over your face, squinting your eyes for protection. The sound of your heavy breathing filled your ears.

How familiar that was. How familiar exertion was. Before you could stop yourself from thinking, from remembering, you saw his face. He was by your side, smiling, goading you to run faster. He was betting you that he could reach the doors first.

“If I win, you owe me half your dinner,” came his playful tease, so vividly that you almost thought it was real. If you let your gaze wander, you could barely make out a mirage of him jogging ahead of you.

What was it you’d said, back in that other life, where you ran the Maze and lived in the Glade and weren’t as alone? You smacked your lips together now, looking for any moisture, and croaked, in a hoarse voice, “What do I get if I win?” The effort made you cough. Stopping in your tracks, you doubled over hacking. You expected to see the worn stone of the Maze beneath your feet, but there was only sand. Knives scraped your throat. You tasted blood.

“You can have anything you want,” Minho responded. You lifted your head, hoping for a glimpse of his face and seeing only sand.

Tears filled your eyes. You wanted Minho with you, right now. You wanted to not be alone. You wanted to not be here, to not have made any of these choices, to not have to keep going and keep trying and keep surviving all because of one promise. You wanted to reach the doors -- no, not the Maze doors, never the Maze doors again, the doors to a crumbling building in a crumbling town in the sun-baked, sand-ridden, abandoned Scorch.

Straightening up, you started for the building again. You reached it in a few long, purposeful strides. The door hung half off its hinges. You slipped inside, shutting it as best you could behind you, hoping that would keep at least some sand out. The inside was blessedly dark. The front room seemed kind of like a cafeteria, with a few tables and chairs and a long counter at the back. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you remembered the last cafeteria you’d been in. You wanted to spit on this place as payback.

Instead, you walked behind the counter, sunk to your knees, shrugged off your backpack, and curled into a ball. Your head pounded. You squeezed your eyes closed, pressed your palms to your temples, tried to hold back any more tears. The memory of Minho floated to the front of your mind again.

“No need to cry,” you could hear him saying. You could almost feel him tuck a finger under your chin, like he’d done before, and raise your head. “I’m still here.” And then you opened your eyes, hoping to see that cocky grin that would make the whole world would seem a little better.

But Minho wasn’t there. You weren’t in the Glade anymore. You weren’t even with WICKED anymore. You were somewhere in the middle of the Scorch, alone and trying to survive and failing.

With trembling fingers, you unzipped your backpack and pulled out your last bottle of water. It was half-empty. You stared at it numbly. How far could half a bottle of water take you? When you used to run the Maze, a lifetime ago, you never went in without at least one canteen full. Minho had teased you during your first run for taking three. You wondered what he would say now.

“We’ll figure it out together. We’ll get out together.” That’s what he would say. That’s what he had said, right before you went into the Maze for the last time.

I tried, Minho. You wanted to scream it out to the Scorch, let every damn Crank within a hundred miles of you hear it. Maybe Minho would hear it too, back at the WICKED compound, back in the Glade. He said he would find you. You’d repeated his words so many times in your head that they were practically imprinted in your brain. They were like a touchstone, something you remembered for luck and courage.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he’d said.

You’d never said it back. You wished you’d said it back.

You forced yourself to stop remembering and took a sip of water. It was like ice filtering through magma cracks, soothing, soothing, soothing, and then gone, evaporating and leaving behind seething bubbles of lava. You wanted more. You wanted so much more for yourself.

You twisted the cap back on and shoved your water into your bag before you did something you’d regret. Leaning against the counter, you let your eyes close. Fatigue made your limbs heavy, and the warm air settled over you like a blanket. You hoped the sun would be gone when you woke up. Then you would walk, as you had for countless nights, with no real directions in mind, only the understanding that you needed to keep moving or else you would die. Somewhere out there, there was a safe haven.

But in your dreams, there was darkness, and in the darkness, there were Grievers. The Maze walls, dripping with ivy, closed in around you as you ran. Your breaths came short and fast, more from fear than effort. You had no bag, no weapons, just the shoes on your feet and a little bit of hope in your chest. But the Grievers were closing in.

Mechanical limbs whirred, slamming against the Maze floor so forcefully the ground seemed to shake. You whipped your head around, caught a glimpse of them, turned back and ran faster, looked again and saw them even closer. Metal clanged together, the sound of razor-sharp fangs gnashing, slick with slime. A rush of wind sliced past your arm. You tried to move faster, just a little faster, just enough to keep narrowly avoiding the Griever’s claws, just enough, please, just enough to make it to sunrise--

A wave of fire burned a line across your back. The pain was white-hot, so bad you couldn’t keep your eyes open, you were stumbling and faltering and barely moving and the Griever was going to get you, only with your next step you felt nothing but open space and then you were falling and falling and falling.

You hit the ground so hard the air went out of you, and only then did you realize you’d been screaming. A moment of shock passed. Then you shrieked again. Your back burned with pain, but it wasn’t fire, not like you’d thought at first, it was a cut, huge and sprawling and parting the flesh of your back. Blood drenched your shirt. You screamed, blind with pain and fear, waiting for the Griever to finish you off or sting you and send you into a spiral of even greater misery.

Something grabbed your arms, hoisted you up, strapped you down. The Grievers have me, they’ve got me, they’re going to kill me, you thought, even as you felt human hands and heard human voices and saw human faces.

“No!” You caught a glimpse of one of them holding a syringe, a Griever in disguise. Twisting away, trying to avoid it, you let out a scream so loud you thought your vocal cords would be torn to shreds, just like your back, just like the ravaged mess that was left of your back. The needle pierced your skin.

Immediately, your yells dropped off. The people or the Grievers or the Grievers masquerading as people laid you face down on a stretcher. You couldn’t move your neck, or your arms, or your feet, but every step they took as they carried you sent bolts of lightning through your body. Your face was wet with tears, with blood. The jostling stopped. Every nerve in your body rebelled in pain, and then there was a cold hand on your cheek, forcing your chin up. Grinning down at you was the face of the devil.

You woke now with a start, a cool sheen of sweat coating your body, phantom pains chilling your back. Your heart thundered wildly. Acting on pure instinct, you shot to your feet, looking frantically around the room. She would be there, you were sure of it. The devil, with her blonde hair pulled back into a tight bun, her lips painted red with the blood of her victims.

But the room was dark and empty and you were alone.

You untensed with a long, slow exhalation. Tiny daggers still ran up and down your spine, dancing along the scars the WICKED doctors had said they couldn’t fix.

“An unfortunate variable,” the devil had said about the Grievers, “but necessary.”

Necessary.

You spat on the floor, wishing it was her pristine white cafeteria, half-hoping you’d look up and see her standing there so you could strangle her. But that thought was fleeting and your head shot back up in fear, scanning the room again and again to reassure yourself that Dr. Paige was nowhere to be seen.

When you were sure there was no one lurking in the night-shadowed corners, you hefted your backpack onto your shoulders and made for the door. Outside, the desert air was chill and dry. The occasional wind stirred the sand as you walked, footsteps making quiet whispers along the dusty sidewalk. Moonlight paved the way forward.

Goosebumps covered your arms as you replayed your dream, your memories, over again. Yes, the Grievers had gotten you, but not the ones in the Maze. It was the hidden Grievers, the ones who said they were good, and that they were going to save the world, and that you were helping.

“Thank you for participating, Y/N,” Dr. Paige had said. “I’m sure it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The data we gathered on the group’s response to a requested sacrifice will prove very useful, I assure you.” And she’d smiled at you. She’d actually smiled, pointy, predatory canines on full display behind her parted red lips. “The data from your response will also be very beneficial. Thank you once more for your participation.”

You were too shocked. You were in too much pain. The synapses in your brain weren’t firing correctly, still stuck trying to piece together that the sacrifice was some kind of test. An unfortunate variable. “What...what happens next?”

Dr. Paige had already left. Someone lower in the chain of command gave you a nonanswer about your role in Phase One being complete.

“But what happens in Phase Two?”

There was no answer to that question, no matter how many times you asked. You asked when you were stable enough to be moved to your own room, when you were compliant enough to walk the halls of the facility with a chaperone, when you were obedient enough to eat in the cafeteria among the staff members.

“WICKED is good,” they’d say. And then they would smile at you.

You shuffled through the sand. Reaching a hand, which you pretended wasn’t trembling, into the side pocket of your bag, you pulled out a meal replacement pouch with WICKED emblazoned on its side. Even as you ate, you worried. The dream loomed over you like a heavy cloud, and your food supply was dwindling. You wished for a sip of water, just a taste, a small trickle to wet your lips, something to help the powdery bar go down.

You wished you’d started hoarding food at WICKED earlier. It was only when you noticed that change was coming, that the air was electric and the people were alive, that you started to slip items from the cafeteria into your bag. The doctors had stopped ordering you in for blood tests and scans, which they had pretended were for your back, and then they stopped sending you a chaperone. It was almost like freedom.

“Code Green. I repeat, Code Green. All personnel begin preparations for Phase Two. I repeat…” The message came over the speakers while you were in your room, a barebones cell with a cot and a desk. In a flash, you were on your feet, pouncing on the opportunity. You slung your WICKED bag over your shoulders, ignoring the discomfort as it pressed into your bandaged back. Peering through the crack in your door, you couldn’t see anyone in the hall. The lights were flashing in time with the announcement, strobes of green slicing across the walls. Holding your breath in anticipation, you tried the door handle. Unlocked.

Heart fluttering, you pulled it open a crack and slipped through, shutting it gently behind you. No chaperone sitting outside. No guards patrolling. No people at all. You bolted down the hall.

Thinking about it now, as you finished your second to last meal replacement, the perishable food long since gone, you wondered why it was so easy.

Phase One. Phase Two. Thank you for your participation. An unfortunate variable. Unfortunate unfortunate unfortunate thank you for participating thank you for the data thank you for trying thank you for dying. Phase Two, I should have raided the cafeteria will you be in the cafeteria, Minho are you in the kitchen? Where are you where am I why is this happening what is--

Welcome to Phase Two.

You crumpled the meal replacement package in your hand and threw it into the air, letting it fly with the wind.

Minho’s voice was in your head. “I’ll raid the kitchen, the Med-jack Hut, bring us weapons.”

You shook your head and it faded. “I would have done it if you were there,” you said. Your voice was a croak. You cleared your throat and tried, “I would have…” The words floated away. I would have tried harder to survive.

“I tried so hard, Minho.” You thought of your bottle of water, only a few sips left. “I tried to wait for you in the Maze, but WICKED took me.” Grievers and white-clothed doctors and searing pain. “I tried to wait for you at WICKED, but...I think they let me escape.” An unlocked door, no patrolling guards. The vast expanse of the Scorch beyond, and a snippet of an overheard conversation about a safe haven at the end. “I tried to reach the end. But I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Sand. So much sand. Lightning storms and a burning, vengeful sun, and a throat so dry it hurt. “I can’t do this anymore.”

And still, you walked. Because there was nothing else to do. Because you were a Runner and Runners never stopped. Because you thought this might be another test, another phase, and you wanted to reach the end. Because the mirage of Minho was nearby, talking.

“We’re almost there,” he said. You rubbed your sand-crusted eyes and tried to find him. “We have to keep going.”

Other voices chimed in, pitched low and hard to hear. You hoped you could hallucinate Newt, too, and maybe Zart and Frypan, who had tried to help, had tried, just like you tried. You moved faster, feet cleaving through drifts of sand.

“There it is!”

You missed the sound of an excited Minho. You remembered the first time he’d had a little too much to drink at a bonfire, and he’d picked you up and twirled you around. You’d never smiled so much.

The memory used to be good, then it turned painful, and now you were just numb.

You kept walking. Around you, the city was fading into sand. Ahead stood a tall dune. You wanted to stop and stare and convince yourself to turn around. But you kept walking. Behind the dune, you’d see Minho and Newt and Zart and Frypan and maybe even Alby, and maybe you would forgive Alby, or maybe not, but you would still see him because everyone would be there.

You boot punched a hole into the sand dune, sending streams of gritty yellow dust cascading down the slope. Stepping forward again, you sunk into sand up to your mid-calf. Again and again, and then you stumbled and fell in up to your elbows, and still, you crawled.

“We can do this,” Minho said, from somewhere above or behind or by your side. He was climbing with you, barely out of sight. His playful grin was audible.

“Bet I can beat you to the top,” you said before he could.

“What do I get if I win?” he asked.

You smiled and there were tears in your eyes and sand on your cheeks. “You can have anything you want.” And you climbed higher.

“I want you to say it back. Please say it back, Y/N. Please.” His voice was fading. You were leaving him behind as you neared the top.

Sand burrowed into the lines of your face, past the seams of your clothes, finding every nook and cranny of your body to hide in. It was in your mouth, your ears, your eyes. You struggled to breathe. Your head felt as light as a cloud. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you finally promised as you reached the empty crest. Still on hands and knees, you peered over the other side of the dune. The slope was empty. Everything was empty.

You rolled onto your back, eyes shut against the fading night sky. Your arm bumped against something stiff. Reaching a hand out blindly, groping for it, you came back with a stick. You looked at it through squinted eyes. Atop the stick was a flag, and on the flag in big, thick letters, the same font WICKED used for everything, were the words, “Safe Haven.”

You laughed. The bitter chuckle was alone in the Scorch. Overhead, the sky was lightening, and soon you would be alone in the daylight of the Scorch, alone in the Safe Haven.

Shrugging your backpack off, you reached inside for your water and the last of your food. The bottle was empty. You didn’t remember finishing it, but you figured you must have. You chucked it to the side, listening as it rolled down the sand dune. You wouldn’t need that anymore. The air grew warmer as dawn approached and you opened your last meal replacement. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you could hear voices. You wondered if you were going crazy, decided you didn’t care because you had tried Minho I really tried I’m sorry please promise me I’ll see you tomorrow please don’t let it end like this please.

You took a bite of the crumbling meal replacement bar and immediately spit it back out. It had soaked up the last bit of moisture in your mouth. You tossed the package to the side, where you’d abandoned your water and your will.

The sky grew pink and orange and yellow, and, finally, there was the sun, high in the sky, and you had no idea how much time had passed while you stared, and you didn’t care. There was no further destination in mind. This was it. And with the sun up there and you down here, you hoped that maybe this wouldn’t count as dying alone.

“There it is!” Minho again. Funny how he kept saying that. And then the voices of the other Gladers chimed in again. You wondered if you would keep replaying that moment until you finally passed. You wondered how it would feel. You wondered if there was water on the other side.

The sand rushed down the sides of the dune in waterfalls. You could hear it, even if you didn’t have the energy to look. It sounded like a whisper. Beneath the whisper was the panting of a group of people.

Runners, you thought. All of the Runners before and all of the Runners after, coming to take me away. Would Minho be among them? Was he dead, like you and like those sad souls who’d been killed by the Grievers (An unfortunate variable, but necessary) and all of the people who’d gotten the Flare, which you barely understood because no one had answered any of your questions?

Why is this happening and where am I going and what do I do and how did I get here and when can I go home, please bring me home, I want to go home and I want to see Minho one last time because I never promised him back and I should have.

“Y/N?”

Minho. You didn’t have the energy to speak or even open your eyes to see the hallucination.

“Y/N!” Feet pounding against sand, then hands on your arms, looping around your back, pulling you close and shielding you from the sun. “Wake up, Y/N. Clint!”

No, Clint wasn’t supposed to be here. Clint had voted for you to be sent into the Maze. You were pretty sure you used to hate him for that, but hate took so much energy, and you just wanted to pretend Minho was holding you until you didn’t have to think anymore.

The people nearby talked unintelligibly, oscillating between murmurs and gleeful shouts. There was cotton in your ears and a blindfold over your eyes and strong hands on your back, propping you up. Then there was a splash of water on your face and the world opened up again.

There was Minho. Better than in your memories, because he was here, in full color, so perfect you needed to squint. He was on his knees and holding you. Above, Clint was pouring water over your head. All around you were Gladers.

“Minho?” you croaked, although there was no question who it was. Dark brown eyes, now filled with tears. Full lips curved up in a smile. Scatters of freckles across his cheeks. Minho.

Minho nodded and pulled you into a hug. “I thought…” he trailed off. Then he laughed, a sound so bright and so happy that the water on your skin felt a touch cooler, the sun on your shoulders a shade dimmer. “I should’ve known you’d survive.”

“There’s no safe haven,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

Minho shook his head, still buried in your neck. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Smiling, you pressed a hand to his cheek, coaxing him to look at you. When he did, you leaned in and finally felt at home.

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

Author's Note: I wanted to put a longer, more serious note at the end instead of the beginning so I wouldn't deter any newcomers from reading. I just wanted to say thanks to everyone for letting me try out this style! I'm not very happy with how this turned out but it was good practice. Hopefully, I can use this experience and write better pieces in the future. Thanks again for letting me experiment and for the encouragement. And my requests are always open :)

Tag List: @officialfictionalwreck @elizabeth-brown @newtsgirl-hehe @jjjmaybank @adoregin

[plaidbooks]

I get SO EXCITED when your fic requests open up!!!!! I would love to request some mutual pining/yearning between Dodds and one of his SVU detectives. Prompt "I'd do anything for you," maybe where his dad has noticed them eyeing each other secretly and gives Mike the old "WE've worked too hard to get you to this position." (Idk, maybe those should be 2 different requests? You can choose whichever you prefer!)

Every request i send in gets more and more long-winded 😅😳

Exchanging Glances

A/N: This was a fun prompt! I'm sorry it took me so long to write it, but I hope you enjoy it!

Tags: shootings, otherwise none

Words: 1918

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @permanentlydizzy @ben-c-group-therapy @infiniteoddball @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @caracalwithchips @berniesilvas​ @qvid-pro-qvo @averyhotchner @imalostredheadinablondeworld

Mike being assigned to SVU was both a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because the squad was short staffed, and he more than pulled his weight. He was also a great detective, and a great leader. The curse was how goddamn attractive he was.

He was your superior; there was no chance of a relationship with him. But you couldn’t stop the butterflies in your stomach when he smiled at you or complimented your work. The worst was when you walked into the locker room one day and found him in his undershirt, his dress shirt hanging open. The soft, white shirt left nothing to the imagination as he stretched against his broad chest, and it was a struggle to not stare…or drool.

He hadn’t even seemed embarrassed about it, talking easily with you as he slowly buttoned his shirt, his long fingers moving deftly. You had quickly made an excuse and practically fled the room. But after that moment, you couldn’t help but picture those strong arms holding you against his broad chest.

You often caught yourself staring at him while at your desks, before you’d look back to your computer screen, hoping no one noticed. Though of course, both Rollins and Carisi saw, and they teased you relentlessly for it.

“Why not ask him out?” Carisi asked you one day during lunch.

You choked on your egg roll. “A—absolutely not! He’s our boss,Carisi!”

“For how much longer?” Rollins chimed in. “I heard daddy’s tryin’ to move him.”

That made you pause; if Mike left SVU, you wouldn’t see him anymore…but maybe you could ask him out then. “Well, I’d rather wait until he’s gone before asking,” you replied, picking at your food.

“Come on, he’s a good guy,” Carisi said. “I bet Mike would love—”

“Love what?” Mike asked, coming into the break room and snagging a takeout box.

You felt how hot your face got, and you ducked your head, pretending to eat. Thankfully, Liv came into the break room, saving you all.

“We have a hostage situation. Let’s go,” she ordered before leaving. You all glanced at each other, fun times fading, before you were up, scrambling for your things in your desks.

*********************

You were huddled outside the door to the kitchen, gun in hand. Mike was on the other side of the doorframe, eyes locked to yours, gun in his hand as well. You were both flanked by the squad and officers, waiting for the go ahead from Liv. You knew she wanted to be in there with you, but as Lieutenant, she had to be outside, calling the shots for everyone involved.

“Green light,” she said into your earpieces. Mike nodded at you, and you nodded back. Then he took a step back and kicked the door in. You cut in front of him as he caught his balance, heading into the kitchen, eyes scanning. You had your gun up, and once you found your perp, you swiveled to aim at him. But he was faster; he fired before you even had the chance.

You grunted as you took a bullet in the ribs, your vest absorbing most of the impact. You still stumbled, though, the wind knocked from you. You being off balance turned out to work perfectly, as Mike was able to get a shot off, clipping the guy in the shoulder.

Both Carisi and Rollins headed for the perp while Fin checked on the woman who was being held hostage; she was shaking in a corner, hands and mouth duct taped. Mike, however, went straight to you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, face full of concern. He helped guide you towards the door, hands on your hips to help you walk.

You nodded. “Fine, fine. Got the vest,” you grunted, hand on place you were shot.

Mike led you down and out of the house, out onto the street. Liv read the situation and quickly came over, but you waved off her questions. Both of them guided you to a waiting ambulance, and the paramedics helped you get the vest off. They gently lifted your shirt to inspect the spot, which was already deeply bruised, a small bit of dried blood there from where the bullet broke skin.

Your face heated as you caught Mike’s eyes glued to the injury. “I’m fine, really. Just a bruise,” you muttered, trying to pull your shirt back down.

“We should take you in, make sure you didn’t break anything, or have internal bleeding,” one of the medics said.

You sighed, knowing you couldn’t argue. They helped you in the back, and you sat on the gurney.

“I’m riding with her,” Mike said to Liv. He handed her his gun before he climbed in, sitting next to you. You ducked your head in embarrassment as the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away.

******************

You sat on the hospital bed, and Mike was outside the room while you were patched up—mostly because your shirt was off. Once considered decent, though, he came in, giving the nurse a smile and nod in thanks.

“How’re you feeling?” he asked, that concern still in his eyes.

You smirked. “Like I was shot.”

Mike shook his head, grinning. “Glad to see you still have your sense of humor…. Thank you, though.”

“For what?”

“I was going to go in first, but you ran in front of me before I could stop you. In a sense, you took that bullet for me,” he explained.

You blinked at him, then blurted out, “I’d do anything for you.” Your face heated, and you dropped your eyes to the floor. “I mean, y—you’re my sergeant; of course, I’d take a bullet for you….”

“Well, I’d do anything for you, too, including taking a bullet, if it came to that,” he replied softly. At first, you thought he was just saying that. But the meaningful look he gave you made you pause. Was he saying what you thought he was?

Slowly, timidly, you reached out and took his hand in yours. He didn’t pull away; in fact, he stepped up close to you. His free hand came up to your face, and he cupped your cheek lovingly. You leaned into the touch, and his face got closer and closer—

“There you are, Mike! Benson said you were at the hospital with a detective,” a voice called from the door. Mike quickly moved away from you, dropping your hand, and you swallowed in fear as Deputy Chief Dodds stood in the doorway to your room.

He gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, and you wondered how much he had seen. Then he strolled into the room, fixing his gaze onto his son.

“Uh, yeah, sorry dad. She got shot during our raid today—”

“Oh no,” he lamented, though it almost sounded sarcastic. “Well, it at least looks like you’re fine. Listen, Mike—” his eyes went back to his son’s— “I need to talk to you about an opportunity. If you’ll excuse us,” he said to you, then turned and strolled from the room.

Mike gave you an apologetic look before following his dad, closing the door behind them and leaving you alone.

***

“What the hell were you thinking?” William asked as he headed out of the hospital. “Getting close with a detective.” He said the word like an insult, and Mike flinched.

Once on the street, Mike replied, “she’s a fantastic detective, and I like her a lot. Why does my romantic life involve you?”

“Because we’ve worked too hard to get you to this position," he responded, poking Mike in the chest.

He rolled his eyes, fighting the urge to ask “we?” Instead, he said, “If I follow your plan, then I’m leaving SVU anyways. Why can’t I date her?”

“You need someone on your level, someone who’s as eye-catching as you are,” William explained. But Mike knew the truth; his father wanted him with a trophy wife, one who knew how to keep her head down and attend to her husband’s wants and desires. In other words, someone Mike wanted nothing to do with.

“With how good she is, she could make sergeant in no time,” Mike countered. He wasn’t just saying that, either; he believed it. You were incredible. He almost wanted you to go to Joint Terrorism with him, be his number two. But then, you couldn’t have a relationship together.

“Who cares about sergeant—”

“I’m a sergeant, dad.”

William waved his hand dismissively. “That’s just a placeholder until you’re lieutenant. Come on, Mike; do you really want someone with the same profession as you? Where you work late nights, weekends, holidays?” Translation; do you want someone who won’t be home to cook your meals or run the household?

“We’d have the same life experiences, we’d understand each other on a deeper level because of it,” he shot back.

William rolled his eyes. “Deeper level—”

“And I’m not going to stand here and defend her or myself from you. I’m sorry dad, but I don’t really care what you think about her. We haven’t even started dating or anything. But I’m going to go back upstairs and ask her out. I hope you can find it in yourself to come to terms with that,” Mike said before turning on his heel and marching back inside. William was too stunned to say anything back.

***

You collected all your items and were just about to leave the room when there was a knock on the door.

“Uh, come in?” you called, wondering if the nurse had more info outside of “it’ll heal on its own, but it’ll be sore for a while.”

But your stomach dropped when it was Mike peeking his head in, giving you a sheepish smile. “Uh, hey, sorry about that.”

“O-oh! No, it’s, um, it’s fine. Hopefully that was nothing too important,” you replied, laughing nervously.

Mike rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a mumble of, “no, no, it’s nothing…” before trailing off. Then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and looked at you intently. “Would you like to go get dinner with me? Tonight?”

You were stunned; true, you were both off after the raid—you to heal and pass a psych evaluation, and him while IAB investigated the shooting—but you never expected him to ask you out. “I—I would love that…but could we? Unless the Chief just transferred you, you’re still my boss.”

“He didn’t, but I don’t care. I’ll be leaving the squad soon enough as it is. Plus…I know you’re not seriously injured, but the thought of you being shot on the job…it worries me. I’d rather shoot my shot now, while we’re both still alive and well,” he finished.

You nodded slowly, your mind swirling. “Well…as long as neither of us will be fired over it…. I’d love to have dinner with you, Mike.”

You noticed how his eyes narrowed when you mentioned getting fired, and you wondered if the possibility never crossed his mind until you said it. He quickly masked his face with a smile, then held the door open for you.

“You won’t get fired; I’ll make sure of it,” he promised, and you wondered if it was a legit possibility. Either way, a date with Mike Dodds seemed like a good payoff. Plus, if you were fired, you could continue dating without the fear of 1PP.

[nhlandotherimagines]

Everything About You- Mitch Marner

@natbarzal @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @jonnytoews19 

And they blurbs continue! Here is number 10 of the Up All Night series, with the one and only Mitch Marnie ❤️

I had a lot of fun writing this one, but just a heads up it contains a lot of crying, infidelity (not by Mitch or Y/n but still), anxiety/panic attacks, loss of a loved one, and of course some friends to lovers fluff in there too! I hope you all enjoy it ❤️❤️❤️

You know I've always got your back, girl, so let me be the one you come running to, running to, running

Today has not been your day at all. Work totally kicked your ass, and now this! “Isaac what the hell?” Your voice cracks a little, but you can’t bring yourself to be embarrassed. All you feel at this moment is rage, because your boyfriend of two years is sitting in your shared living room with some other girls’ tongue down his throat.

“Y/n! You’re home early!” He practically pushes the girl to the floor in an attempt to look innocent.

“Oh I’m sorry! Was that inconvenient for you? Please ignore me and go back to business, I’ll just be in OUR bedroom!” You’re yelling now, moving with purpose towards your bedroom. Slamming the door behind you, you pull your phone out of your pocket. Eyes filling with tears, you press on his contact as fast as you can trying to keep your composure.

“Hey Y/n! What’s up?” Mitch’s voice is sing-songy like it always is, but today it does little to make you feel better.

“I need you to come get me...” your voice trails off as your whole body begins trembling. “Isaac c-cheated and I just, I need to go. Please.” You’re crying now. So much so that you don’t register much of Mitch’s response, aside from him promising he’d be there soon.

———

“Where is she?” Mitch is angry, you can hear it from down the hall. Mitch doesn’t get angry though, and you quickly realize this might become a much bigger problem very quickly.

“Get lost Mitch.” Isaac spits at him, and your breath hitches in your throat. You don’t make out the words that leave Mitch’s mouth next, but you do hear a crash as your feet carry you towards the front door as fast as they can move.

“Mitch don’t!” The words leave your mouth faster than you have time to take in the scene before you. Mitch is gripping the collar of Isaac’s hoodie, and has him pushed up against the wall. Both men turn to you when they hear your voice, and you’re thankful, because it looked as though Mitch was ready to swing. “Please let’s just go.” Your voice and eyes plead with Mitch, and it has his heart breaking. He lets go of Isaac, but not without giving him a shove first.

“You’re not going with him.” Isaac announces, sending Mitch a dirty look.

“Watch me,” you shoot back at him before turning to Mitch. “Can you come help grab my bags please?”

And he does. The whole while Isaac cursing and swearing under his breath, and you easily ignore him. That is until you’re slipping your jacket and shoes on. “I don’t see what your fucking problem is! You’re the one whoring around with the entire leafs roster.” His words have you seeing red, and thankfully Mitch can read you like a book. He wraps a hand gently around your bicep, but hard enough that in your attempt to lunge at Isaac he holds you back.

“For the record asshole, Y/n hasn’t so much as looked at anyone on the team in a suggestive way. So some time in between being a dipshit, get your facts straight.” Mitch’s voice is cool and collected, and it eases your mind as he pulls you and your bags out of the apartment.

As you make your way to Mitch’s car, you feel numb. The whole situation runs through your brain over and over, but somehow you remain emotionless. Slipping into the front seat, you wait as Mitch loads your things into the back. You’re so in your head, you barely notice him get in and start the car.

“I’m sorry I called you, but I didn’t know what else to do.” Your voice is hardly above a whisper, but Mitch hears you loud and clear. He immediately pulls the car back into the spot he just pulled out of, slamming the car right back into park causing your body to jerk forward slightly.

“Do not apologize to me, are you serious?” You turn to him, and he sends you a sad smile taking your hands in his. “I am so happy you called me! I want to be the person you call when you need something. Anything! I will come running anytime anywhere if you need me! Do you understand?”

The emotions that you hadn’t been able to find just moments ago find you now in full force. Tears steadily stream down your face, and all you can do is nod as Mitch pulls you awkwardly into his chest. The centre console digs into your ribs, but the pain doesn’t compare to the ache in your heart. Besides, in the comfort of your best friend’s arms, you’ve never felt more safe.

I see it's just a matter of fact, girl. You just call my name, I'll be coming through, coming through, I'll keep coming.

Living with Mitch was the easiest, yet hardest, thing you’ve ever done. Your plan was to move back home to your parents place, but Mitch pouted and complained about not being able to see you. So after hours of lighthearted arguments, you decided to stay. You fit well with Mitch, but there is one thing that is starting to become an issue. His teammates.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Will chirps the moment Mitch and a few of his teammates arrive to pregame before going out for drinks. Somehow Mitch’s place always gets offered up as a place to host these get togethers. Sure, you love all the guys, and they are your friends too, but the whole ‘girlfriend’ chirp was getting old fast.

“Still not his girlfriend!” You call out, peaking around the corner to let the boys know you’re in the kitchen. You got a head start on the drinking, and are currently pouring yourself a hefty glass of wine.

“Great, so you’re free to go on a date with me then.” Will winks at you as he leans against the counter beside you.

“Absolutely not!” Mitch pipes in before you even can formulate a response. Everyone’s head snaps towards Mitch, and his cheeks seem to turn a shade darker. “I’m not letting her date any of you, she could do a million times better! No offence Willy.”

“Oh none taken.” Will manages to get out while stifling a laugh.

———

The bar was packed, you knew it would be. You had insisted you would just stay home, because it was the boys night to celebrate their win, but Mitch wasn’t having it. So here you were trying to find your way to the bar for another drink. Bodies all around you, bumping into you, spilling drinks, and it felt hard to breath.

As your hands start to shake, you abandon the idea of another drink and instead turn to head back towards the group. Your breath hitches in your throat as you turn to see a sea of people. You try and push your way through, but with every step you begin to feel smaller. Your entire body begins to shake, every small brush of a limb against you has your head spinning. Panic sets into your bones, as your heart begins to race. Your eyes frantically scan the crowd looking for Mitch, as you begin wringing your hands together anxiously.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Where is Mitch?” You begin muttering to yourself. Obsessively repeating his name to yourself as if you’d forget who it was you were looking for if you stop. Of course you had to ask him to hold onto your cellphone for you!

Tears sting your eyes, and the anxiety wracking your body manifests itself into fear now. It feels as though everyone is staring at you like you’re crazy, and you don’t feel safe here. Unable to find your bearings in a room that seems to be spinning around you, you do the only thing you know how to. You call out for Mitch.

His name falls from your lips, and you know how pathetic it sounds, but you don’t care. You’re just praying that he hears you, so you call out for him again. “Mitch! Where are you?!” People are definitely staring now, but you feel like you’re moments away from passing out.

A hand grips your shoulder causing you to jump back. As you whip your head around to see who grabbed you, your eyes are met by a very concerned Mitch. You fall against his chest, and he holds you close as you try to not fall apart.

You barely register the fact that Mitch is leading you through the crowd, aside from the fact your feet are moving. You still have your face pressed into his chest as the two of you step out of the bar.

“Hey what’s wrong?” His voice is soft as he runs a hand through your hair softly. You can’t respond with words. Instead you squeeze your fists tighter in his shirt, as your body begins to tremble against him. The tears, mixed with your makeup, will surely stain his shirt, but you can’t stop. “Woah! Shh don’t cry, it’s okay I’m here.” Mitch rubs your back in slow circles as you desperately cling to him. You stay like that for awhile, but soon enough you come to your senses and feel like a total idiot. You pull away from Mitch abruptly, and turn away from him aggressively wiping at your face. “God I’m sorry Mitch! I’m such a baby!” You groan. You’re angry at yourself, and super embarrassed. So much so, that if it weren’t for the fact your phone was still in Mitch’s pocket, you would have just ran away.

“Y/n?” His voice sounds so unsure, yet so soft. You can’t bring yourself to look at him just yet, but you do turn back towards him. “I shouldn’t have let you go to the bar alone, I’m sorry. Did someone hurt you? Because I swear to god I will go in there and fight for you no questions asked.” He adds a little chuckle at the end, but his tone gives away the fact he’s telling the truth. You have no doubts Mitch would fight for you, it’s why you love him.

Holy shit. You love Mitch!

“N-no one hurt me Mitch I just, I don’t know. I got overwhelmed, and scared. I didn’t have my phone, and I couldn’t find you a-and I just shut down. God I’m so stupid! I’m an adult and I can’t even get a drink for myself.” You stare at your feet, willing the tears away that once again threaten to fall down your cheeks. In a moment, Mitch has your face in his hands tilting your head up, forcing you to look in his eyes.

“Stop that.” His eyes are looking into yours like he’s trying to read your mind. “You are so far from stupid! I’m sorry I didn’t find you faster, I’m sorry I let you go alone. You’re okay now though alright? Let’s go home yeah?” You nod, but neither of you dare to move. His face is only inches from yours, and you use this moment to just take him in. He’s absolutely beautiful. His hair falling over his forehead, his perfect skin, his blue eyes, his lips. He’s perfect. You realize you’ve been staring at his lips a beat too long when he licks his lip. The action pulls you from your daze, and you let your eyes wander back up to his, which are focused on your own lips. Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes meet yours again.

“We should go.” You awkwardly clear your throat, completely ruining whatever that was. Mitch slowly drops his hands back to his sides, shaking his head lightly.

“Yeah let’s go.”

On the other side of the world, it don't matter, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two, I'll be there in two

Loss is something that everyone will experience at least once in their life. You have had your fair share, but none to date hurt quite like this one. Losing someone so close to your heart, and being completely alone. Your family all in a completely different province, your best friend is in a completely different country playing hockey, and you are laying completely still. Unable to move from the spot you collapsed into after the conversation with your mom.

Death wasn’t new to you, but being alone certainly was. So all you could do was cry.

You only lift your head from the pillow when your phone rings. A picture of you and Mitch flashes on the screen, letting you know he wants to FaceTime.

“Hey Mitch, how was the game?” You ask after accepting the call, but keeping your camera off.

“The game was good... did you not watch it?” He asks, rightfully confused, because you had told him you’d watch it.

“Oh well uh- something came up I’m sorry.” Your excuse is poor, but not entirely untrue. Mitch might have even let you away with it, if it weren’t for the small sniffle you let out at the end.

“Y/n are you crying?” You see the concern written on his face, as a fresh batch of tears start falling. “Please turn the camera on.”

You listen to him, no energy left in you to argue. As you see your face pop up on the screen you immediately regret it. You look awful, and Mitch’s eyes soften when he sees you. “I’m fine Mitch I just- Mom called me, and I’m just having a rough night. It just sucks being alone.”

“Is everything okay?” He questions, but you can tell he’s trying not to be pushy. All you can do is shake your head, more tears falling down your face. Mitch feels his heart break in two as he watches you fall apart on his phone screen. “I’m coming home.”

“I know you’ll be home tomorrow night, I’ll be okay. I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” You aren’t sure how you manage to string coherent sentences together, but you do. You feel silly telling Mitch you don’t like being alone, it’s not his fault he has to travel so much for work.

“No I’m coming home now. I’ll be there in 4 hours okay? Just hang in there for me alright?” You look at the screen and realize Mitch is frantically throwing things into his suitcase. After he manages to stuff everything into the suitcase he zips it up and looks back at his screen. You still haven’t responded, so he speaks again. “4 hours, and I’ll be there. I promise.”

And he kept his promise. 3 hours and 56 minutes later he crawls into your bed and holds you until you fell asleep.

I still feel it every time, it's just something that you do. Now ask me why I want to.

“Wow he’s really smitten with you isn’t he?” Audrey, Justin Holl’s wife gushes. You had just filled her and the other WAGs in on why Mitch had flown home for you just over a month ago.

“He’s a really great friend.” You smile shyly, eyes searching for the topic of conversation himself. When you find him, he’s smiling at you, him and Justin leaning against a wall both sipping beers. You send him a small wave, and he winks back at you.

“Oh come on! A ‘really good friend’ doesn’t pack up a work trip on a moments notice and fly home to you like that. This boy is totally gone for you! Honestly I assumed you two would have gotten together by now.” Audrey gestures between the two of you dramatically, and your cheeks heat up.

“He doesn’t like me like that.” You insist. If they could feel how fast your heart is racing though, they’d know just how badly you wanted what they were saying to be true.

———

“What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” Mitch asks as he closes the apartment door behind him. You have just gotten back from Justin and Audrey’s and you’ve hardly spoken a word to him.

“Just thinking.” You mutter, hanging up your jacket and throwing your keys on the desk.

“Care to share with the class?” He chirps, smiling widely as he hangs his coat on the hook next to yours. The moment is so incredibly domestic, and your stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of it.

“Just something Audrey said.” You pause for a moment unsure if you really want to tell Mitch what’s really going through your head. “Can I ask you something?” You flop down onto the couch, watching him over the back of the couch as he grabs you both a beer from the fridge.

“Shoot!” He grins, handing you a beer and taking a seat right next to you. He pops open his beer, and leans back against the couch throwing an arm around your shoulders. He looks at you expectantly as he takes a sip of his drink.

“Why are you so nice to me?” His brows knit together in confusion, so you choose to elaborate. “Like I get that we are friends, best friends even, but you go out of your way to always be there for me. Stepping out on work to fly home to me because I’m sad, isn’t really something a best friend does. So why are you so nice? I don’t need you to take pity on me if that’s what this is. I don’t want to be a charity case.”

Mitch sits forward on the couch now. His arm no longer around you, instead both elbows are planted on his knees. He’s picking at the label on his beer like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. This isn’t a side of him you see often. Mitch Marner is nervous.

“It’s not like that at all! You aren’t a charity case!” He still hasn’t looked at you, and the distance he’s putting between you has you panicking.

“So tell me what it’s like. Come on Mitch, what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?” You tease, bumping his shoulder playfully with your own. Your attempt to lighten the mood even just a little works momentarily, as a small smile breaks out on Mitch’s face.

“You really want to know why I do all of that stuff for you?” His eyes search yours now, hoping he finds the answer he’s looking for. He’s hoping that you are ready to hear what he has to say, and when you place your hand on his arm with a smile he knows it’s going to be okay. “It’s because I love you.”

It's everything about you, everything that you do. From the way that we touch, baby, to the way that you kiss on me. It's everything about you, the way you make it feel, new. Like every party is just us two, and there's nothin' I could point to. It's everything about you.

“Mitch-“ your voice is a warning. Or maybe it’s a plea. Even you aren’t sure, because your heart is in your throat right now.

“I’m serious. I love you. I think I always have, I mean what isn’t there to love? You always make me feel important, like no one else matters and I’ve been trying so hard to make you feel the same way. To make you feel like you’re worth it, because you are so worth it. I love everything about you. I love how funny, sweet, strong, and caring you are. I love how you are just so you. There is not one single thing that made me love you, it was everything. I’m sorry if this is weird for you, but I’m just being honest.” His whole body seems to relax a bit after he finishes speaking. It is almost as if you can see the weight lifting from his shoulders. A weight you hadn’t realized he carried with him, and you want so badly to apologize to him. Tell him you’re sorry for not realizing sooner, and that you wish he hadn’t carried that weight for you. You want to tell him you’re not perfect, and that he has you all wrong. Mostly though, you just want to tell him you love him too.

The only way you know how to tell Mitch exactly how you feel about him isn’t by telling him all of those things with simple words, you have to show him. So, taking a deep breath, you lift your hand from Mitch’s arm, and place gently on the back of his neck. You gently dance your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and you feel a shiver pass through him. He slowly lifts his eyes to yours again, and without another second of hesitation you’re pulling him into you.

When his lips reach yours, you kiss him with all you have. You pour yourself into him in hopes of showing him how grateful you are for him, and how much you love him. He smiles against your lips, as he pulls you into his lap. He hugs your body to his own, and you grip his hair like you’re scared to let go.

After kissing for what feels like forever, but also not nearly long enough, you pull away to catch your breath. Your foreheads are pressed together, both of you breathing heavily, and both sporting mile wide grin.

“Wow.” Mitch breathes out, causing you to giggle. “Add that to the list.”

“List?” You ask curiously, sitting back in his lap to get a better look at him. His hair is messy, lips swollen and red, and his eyes have never looked more blue.

“The list of things I love about you. The way you kiss me, I can add that to the list of everything.” The happiness you feel in this moment has you feeling warm. Sure, maybe the way you found Mitch wasn’t conventional, but there was a reason you called him all those months ago. However it happened, you’ve never been more happy to call someone yours.

[junosartsthetic]

Feel like I'm requesting too much 3 with Tenya Iida :)

“Have you ever felt like this before?”

Well, well, well, if it isn't my old friend getting carried away with writing. We meet again. But seriously. I love writing and you can never request too much. I love fulfilling requests. And this was super cute to write!

__

You could tell by the look in his eyes that he’d never been to a theme park before. Being that he was from a rich family, you were surprised. Though, being that Tenya was all work and no play, you shouldn’t have been too in shock.

You, being the daredevil you were, dragged him straight to the most intense coaster in the entire park. Lucky for you, Tenya had managed to buy some fastpasses, thus you ran straight to the start of the ride, bouncing excitedly.

“Are you positive these rides are safe,” he mumbled to you. You shot him a look.

“Umm, yeah?” You noticed he shook slightly. “Are you scared or something? We could have planned something else to do for fun, ya know.”

You nudged his arm. “We’re friends. You can tell me if you don’t wanna be here. I won’t be mad or anything.”

He shook his head, giving you his usual friendly smile. “No, it’s okay. I want to try something new. And I want to spend time with you.”

One of the operators gestured to the two of you, pointing to the front of the coaster. “Alright, the two of you get row 1.”

You squealed happily. “Oh yeah, this one is especially great in the front row because you can see the giant drop before you start going!”

Iida’s smile lessened. “Sounds… great.”

You sat down, Iida taking the seat next to you. You pulled down your restraints, locking yourself into place. “Just pull it down over your head,” you said. “They’ll come and double check you’re strapped in.”

He did as told, and after a quick check, you heard the main operator give the all clear.

“Have fun, folks,” she called. “And enjoy the 300 foot drop!”

“The WHAT?” Iida cried, nervously looking around. You put a hand on his leg.

“It’ll be fun,” you reassured. “Don’t worry.”

The car began to climb up the hill slowly, chains rattling as you were pulled higher and higher into the air. You could see the entire park, and you made sure to note the locations of the other popular coasters.

Meanwhile, Tenya looked around helplessly.

You heard the pull chain stop, and looked down at the massive drop dead ahead. “Alright, now be sure to pose for the camera. It’ll be at the middle of the drop!” you yelled.

Tenya didn’t have time to respond, the car roaring down the hill. You felt your butt leave the seat, and whooped excitedly. You managed to throw up a peace sign as you passed the camera.

You turned towards Iida as the car squealed up the first loop. His eyes were wide, and he gripped the sides of his glasses to keep them from flying off his face. Despite this, he had a large smile on his face.

“See! It’s fun!” You yelled. “It’s like using your quirk but you get to go upside down and stuff!”

His shoulders relaxed when the coaster slowed at a plateau, preparing for another massive drop. “You were right, these are exhilarating!” he yelled back to you.

His voice quaked with nervousness, but he was buzzing with excitement.

When the coaster finally pulled back into the station, he was smiling widely, clapping. You’d never seen him so relaxed before. “I see what all the commotion is about!”

“I told you!”

You wasted no time in leading him to all the best rides in the park, and by the end of the day your brains felt like scrambled eggs, but your adrenaline and excitement were unmatched. “We need to get souvenirs!” you said, gesturing to a shop beside the coaster you just rode. He nodded.

“Of course! I’ll pay for them!”

Normally, you would argue, but you decided to let it go. Afterall, he was rich.

You walked in, perusing the different shirts and hoodies they had. You spotted one you liked and grabbed two of them. “Here,” you said. “We can match!”

You set them on the counter and smiled at the employee. She smiled back. “D’aww. Matching shirts. Cute.”

Iida swiped his credit card.

She bagged the two shirts, handing them to you. She leaned in close. “Girl, he’s a keeper. These are overpriced as hell.”

You blushed. “Oh, umm, we…” you decided to simply smile and nod.

You and him exited the store, and you immediately threw on the shirt, telling him to do the same. “C’mon,” you said. “We gotta take a picture and post it. Let our friends know that I actually got you to ride a roller coaster.”

You pulled out your phone, smiling widely as you threw up a peace sign. Iida did the same. “Say cheese,” you said, snapping the picture.

You posted it to Instagram with the caption, ‘A fun day with the prez. P.s. @Denkichu I told you he’d enjoy it!’

You slid your phone back into your pocket, looking towards Tenya. “The park is almost closed so we should probably head towards the entrance.”

You noticed he was looking around in awe. “Wow,” he muttered. He clutched his shirt. “Have you ever felt like this before? I feel so happy. This has been the most I’ve smiled in a long time.”

You gave him a nudge. “I know. You’ve been smiling all day. You can always come here again, as often as you want, if you enjoy it. Maybe you can take some of our other friends along. I’m sure they’d be in shock at how much you like it here.”

He shook his head, turning towards you. “I don’t think it’s just this park. Being here with you is what really makes me smile.”

You clutched your chest. “Aww, you make me smile, too. That’s what friends are for!”

He suddenly looked away. “Yes. Right. Of course.”

You grabbed his arm. “Hey. You okay?”

He moved to grab your hand, pulling you towards the first roller coaster you rode. “Let’s ride this again. I need to tell you something before we leave here.”

You shrugged. “Alright.”

It didn’t take long for you to be off, creeping up the giant hill. This time, you could see the night sky, lights of the park shining below you. You were tempted to pull out your phone to take a picture but decided against it.

You looked towards Tenya. “Alright, so what did you want to tell me? Quickly, before we drop 300 feet and I start screaming.”

He gulped. “Well, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I appreciate you dearly. You’re a wonderful friend, and…”

The drop drew ever closer.

“I’m flattered,” you said. “But maybe get to the point a little faster…”

He clutched his eyes shut as the car stopped, starting to tip over the edge. “I think I’m in love with you!”

Your eyes widened, and the car careened downwards.

“Tenya!” you screamed over the sounds of the track. “Did you just say ‘I’m in love with you’!?” You couldn’t be sure.

“Yes!” he yelled, gripping onto his restraints as he dangled upside down. You noticed his glasses slipping off and clutched the sides of his face to keep them steady. “I don’t want to pressure you into anything but this trip made me realize it! I believe that telling you is the best thing to do! I understand if you don’t reciprocate my feelings!”

The second drop was quickly approaching, and as the car slowed, you smiled at him. You brought his face closer to you. “Don’t be stupid, Tenya!” you said. “Of course I reciprocate your feelings, you nerd!”

He placed his hands atop yours. The car dropped, speeding down the second drop. “Do I have your permission to kiss you!” he yelled.

“Yes! Hurry up before we pull back into the station and get kicked out for PDA!”

With that, he closed the gap.

You pulled away from him just as you slid to a stop. Your cheeks were burning, and your adrenaline was pumping wildly through your veins. That was the most heart-racing thing you’d ever done.

You cleared your throat as you pulled back into the station. Quickly releasing your restraints and hopping out of the car, you dragged him out of the coaster and back onto the main walkway.

“For such a formal person,” you quipped, leaning against his shoulder. “That was quite the confession.”

“Well,” he responded, fixing his glasses awkwardly. “You’re quite the person to confess to.”

You smiled softly, pecking him on the cheek. “Let’s get outta here. We still have time to get ice cream tonight.”

He nodded, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. “Of course. Anywhere you want to go, I’ll go with you.”

[crayonwriting]

Father and son go for a walk

series masterlist

"Hold on to my hand tightly, okay Kiyoshi?" Sakusa looked at his son, bundled up in a fluffly jacket with a small bag strapped across his body,  who nodded excitedly. "Bye uncle!" Kiyoshi waved to the cameraman. He held on to Sakusa's hand as much as his little hand could. Sakusa did his best to walk in Kiyoshi's pace so that he won't get tired. Taking walks has been one of Sakusa's random past times for years now. The calm wind blowing in his face felt peaceful and it was also a good kind of exercise without much effort. He hoped that Kiyoshi would enjoy taking walks as much as he did. "Kiyoshi, do you want some candy?" At the mention of the sugary sweet, Kiyoshi squealed in delight. "Can I, papa? Won't mama get mad?" "She said you're allowed sweets from time to time so, yes. This is okay." Sakusa smiled at his son beneath his mask. You were really adamant on  giving Kiyoshi sweets in the first place but if it's one way of getting his son to like him, one piece of candy won't hurt. Kiyoshi's eyes sparkled in excitement and he walked faster this time, pulling his dad along with him to the nearest convenience store. When they were by the entrance, Kiyoshi let go of Sakusa's hand and tried opening the door himself. Sakusa made sure to spray his hand with the alcohol he brought after pulling the door open to let his son inside. Kiyoshi seemed to already know which candy he wants as he immediately went to the counters and did his best to reach the treat. "Papa, I want this one. Strawberry please." He was on his toes, pointing to the rows of candies. "Okay, but let me clean your hands first." Sakusa sprayed Kiyoshi's hands with alcohol as well and helped rubbed it in his small palms. He plucked a strawberry lollipop from the display and handed it to Kiyoshi. The small boy smiled widely before lifting the lollipop back to his dad. "Please open this for me, papa?" Sakusa smiled and did just that. He put the wrapper inside his pocket to throw away later. He went to one of the aisles and got himself a can of iced coffee. He went to the cashier and paid. While he was doing this, Kiyoshi silently followed him around the store. When Sakusa was done, he offered his hand to Kiyoshi and they headed back out again. They walked for a while before something caught Sakusa's eye in the distance. It was the local playground. Now, as much as possible, he didn't want Kiyoshi to be exposed to a lot of unsanitary things but he could hear your voice in the back of his head. "If you keep him inside, his immune system is going to be super sensitive to everything outside. Kiyoshi's age is vulnerable to getting sick but he needs some of those to build up his strength. I'm here if he ever does get sick, so, don't you worry, okay Omi-kun?" You had compromised with him that day---to let Kiyoshi play around outside for a bit then do the necessary sanitations when you get home. Sakusa was just about to counter that but he trusts you and he knows it himself that he will always be there to protect Kiyoshi no matter what happens. "Do you want to go to the playground?" Sakusa asked the boy.  Kiyoshi replied with a firm 'yes.' They walked for a few more minutes before they finally got to the playground. It wasn't that much crowded so far, with only about four kids playing around. "Guys!" Kiyoshi ran ahead of his father. "Let's have some candy!" He shouted to the kids on the playground. No one seemed to pay him any attention. He looked to the side and spotted a little girl playing on the rocking horse. He instantly approached her offering his lollipop. The little girl just stared at Kiyoshi up close. Kiyoshi flashed her his best smile. Sakusa stayed rooted in his spot---hands pocketed in his jacket---just by the sidewalk, enough to monitor Kiyoshi's whereabouts. "You're wearing a winter jacket." Kiyoshi told the girl. When she didn't respond, Kiyoshi continued. "Do you want some candy?" He held out his lollipop to her. "You can try it three times." She just alternated between staring at Kiyoshi and the lollipop but she didn't respond. Kiyoshi was about to tell her something when she spotted another kid---an older girl this time---and he walked up to her to offer his candy. "Do you want some?" The older girl smiled sheepishly before shaking her head from side to side. Feeling a little flustered, she walked away from Kiyoshi without another word. Kiyoshi looked around, confused as to why his friends don't want any candy. He shrugged the thought away and went to go up the slide. When he reached the top of the slides he jumped around in excitement. Some of the other kids passed by him which Kiyoshi didn't mind much. Seeing one of the older kids slide down, he decided try it out himself. This was actually his first time going down a slide this big. Sakusa worried by the sidelines, so he took a few steps closer just in case Kiyoshi gets scared. To his surprise, his son didn't even ask for help from him or any of the other children. Kiyoshi just sat on one of the slides and pushed off. Just as his feet touched the ground, Kiyoshi glanced at his papa and smiled widely. Sakusa smiled as well, giving him a thumbs up. One of the cameramen set up a small camera just by the end of the slide to capture Kiyoshi going down. The boy noticed and kicked the small gadget like it was  a ball. Sakusa was quick to retrieve it. "Kiyoshi." He looked at his dad. "You're not supposed to kick this, okay?" Kiyoshi thought that he was going to be scolded so, he just smiled cheekily at his father, hoping to get away with it. Just as Sakusa was about to remind him again, Kiyoshi's attention was already elsewhere. "Look! There's a dog!"  He ran up to the golden pomeranian whose owner was busy on a call. They passed through the playground which caught the attention of most of the children there. Sakusa shook his head, amused at Kiyoshi’s bravery. "I'm gonna catch you!" Kiyoshi squealed. The owner of the dog noticed the kids crowding up to her so she halted in her steps to let the kids play for a bit. Kiyoshi was the bravest of them all as he stood in front of the dog and started shouting at it. The dog just looked at Kiyoshi silently. He started barking at the dog as well. "Kiyoshi," Sakusa crouched beside him. He doesn't like dogs just because he thinks they're not clean and their fur makes him itch. But he knows that Kiyoshi is fond of dogs. As much as he wants his son to just ignore the small animal, he can't. "If you keep shouting, the dog will get angry. Try petting him." Kiyoshi cautiously neared the dog and placed his hands on its fur. He patted the dog who, to Sakusa's relief, stood still and didn't pounce on Kiyoshi. Soon the other kids followed suit and took turns patting the animal. "Do you want to play on the swing?" Sakusa held out his hand. "Yes!" Kiyoshi held on to his father as he let himself be guided towards the swing set. Sakusa felt relief wash over him because the more Kiyoshi brushed the pomeranian's fur, the more his spine tingled in anxiety. Before getting on the swings, he sprayed alcohol on Kiyoshi's hands which the little boy did't mind. Sakusa helped Kiyoshi on to the swing and pushed him lightly.  Kiyoshi wriggled his legs in excitement and cheered in delight. "Let's swing together!" Kiyoshi told the older girl he met earlier who was also on the other swing with her mother. The girl still ignored Kiyoshi with a blushing face. "Look at me!" "Excuse me," the mother interrupted. "Aren't you Sakusa Kiyoomi from the MSBY  Black Jackals?" Sakusa looked at the woman before nodding his head and mumbling a soft ‘yes.’ He felt a ittle bit embarassed about being recognized outside, especially in a playground with his son but he knows, with the number of games that the Jackals have been wining recently, they were bound to be recognized one way or another. "Me and my husband are huge fans." She gushed. Sakusa did his best to smile in acknowledgement beneath his mask. He bowed slightly to her and murmured a soft 'thank you.' "Your son is cute." Kiyoshi just watched this short interaction. He has never seen his father talk  with other people other than those who deliver food to their house sometimes, or his grandparents. He was amazed that his dad can make other people smile, like he does with him and you. "Papa, I want to stop now." Sakusa held the swing so that Kiyoshi could hop off. "Do you want to go on the slides with me?" He asked. Kiyoshi started wandering around the playground and forcing himself into the small groups that formed. He ignored his dad in favor of playing with the other kids. Sakusa was trying his best to gain Kiyoshi's favor but he was invisible as long as there were other kids around. So, he resumed his position by the playground entrance, still keeping an eye on his boy. Kiyoshi approached a group of older boys playing by the monkey bars. He asked them to play with them but the other boys just stared at him. They ignored Kiyoshi and went to the other side of the playground. Kiyoshi didn't give up though. He followed the boys wherever they went, still asking them to play with him. He wasn't successful with them so when he saw a older brother and a little sister pair just arriving, he quickly approached them. "Play with me!" Kiyoshi stated. The siblings just stared at him as well. Kiyoshi saw that they were holding hands so, he held out his. "Hold my hand too!" The older boy was hesitant, but he took his hand whilst holding his sister's in another. The trio walked around the playground before wandering off to the nearby park. Kiyoshi suddenly had an idea of looking for ants and beetles. When Sakusa heard this he wanted to take Kiyoshi home, but then he knows that his son will just hate him for not letting him play with his friends. So he did the only thing he could do---watch. He made sure that Kiyoshi wouldn't touch anything extraordinarily dirty or worse, put it in his mouth. The outside hittter shadowed over the three children as they picked up random sticks and dried leaves while stuffing them into a small hole the older boy dug up. Kiyoshi also pretended to bang on a wall so that 'the ants will turn into bees.' After a while they wandered around, with Kiyoshi leading the way, before getting lost. Good thing Sakusa was around and he pointed them back to the direction of the playground. But children were easily distracted. When they saw a tree, Kiyoshi suddenly stated that it was an ant kingdom that they needed to destroy. They started banging on the tree trunk with their sticks; their laughs echoing throughout the air. Sakusa found it amusing how vast a child's imagination can be. His phone started ringing inside his jean pocket. Walking a little bit farther to the side, he answered the call. "Miya." "Omi-omi, where are ya?" "Why do you need to know?" "There's an emergency team meeting." Atsumu stated. "I sent ya a text." "What's the problem?" Sakusa groaned. "Coach said something about the next match. There was a mix-up or something." Sakusa cursed under his breath. "Okay. I'll head there now." He hung up the phone and proceeded to call Kiyoshi's babysitter. You both had hired her for the times both you and Kiyoomi are called in for work. "Sakusa-san?" "Remi. I apologize for the sudden call. Are you able to take in Kiyoshi for a while? I just need to attend an emergency meeting at work." "I'm so sorry Sakusa-san, but I am meeting with relatives today." "I see. It's alright. Thank you." When he ended the call, he scrolled through his contacts list to see who could take Kiyoshi for just a few hours. He saw Komori's number and decided to dial it "Motoya." "Kiyoomi!" His cousin greeted cheerfully. "I need someone to look after Kiyoshi for just a few hours. I just have to attend an emergency meeting." "As much as I want to, I'm actually in Osaka right now. " "Aah." Sakusa suddenly ransacked his brain for other people he he can entrust Kiyoshi to. He remained silent before Komori interrupted him. "Why not just take Kiyoshi with you? He's an obedient kid. I'm sure he won't put you in any trouble." "And have him meet my chaotic teammates? No way." Komori laughed at  his cousin. Some things never do change. "Suit yourself." --- Sakusa hates how Komori was right. He couldn't find a last minute babysitter so he has no choice but to bring Kiyoshi with him. They returned home to clean themselves up a bit and fetch their car. Sakusa helped Kiyoshi to his car seat before they drove off to the Japan Volleyball Association Head Office. Kiyoshi fell asleep on the whole ride there. Just before entering the room where the whole team was, he knelt to Kiyoshi's height.  "Kiyoshi, I have to talk to some people about important things," Sakusa started, holding on to his son's hand, "You have to stay quiet, okay? You have to behave." Despite being very sociable, whenever you or Sakusa tell Kiyoshi beforehand that he needs to behave, he knows that it's something important and he doesn't want his parents to be upset. Sakura pushed open one of the doors and almost everyone turned to greet him. "I apologize for being late." Sakusa bowed his head. "I also have my son with me. I couldn't find a babysitter in time and my wife is away. He promises to be quiet." Kiyoshi stared up at all the adults in the room, some were wearing formal suits while the rest of the team wore so,ething casual. They were all strangers to him. "Eh? Kiyoshi is already that big?" Atsumu piped up from one side of the long table. "Has it really been three years?" "Omi-kun! He looks just like you!" Hinata was the first to approach Kiyoshi, opening up his palm towards the child. "Can I get a high-five Kiyoshi-kun?" Kiyoshi did not hesitate to slap his smaller palm against the redhead's. Sakusa flinched at the contact. He knows he would have to give a full bath to Kiyoshi when they get home. "Please take a seat Sakusa-san. We'll be starting soon." One of the MSBY representatives said. Sakusa sat beside Atsumu---which was the only available seat left. To keep Kiyoshi occupied, he gave him a piece of paper and a pencil to draw with that he asked one of the secretaries nearby. The meeting continued smoothly. Kiyoshi did well and was silent the whole time. He kept drawing his favorite animals on his paper whilst sitting on his father's lap. He sometimes took Sakusa's hand, and traced around it, making it look like his favorite dinosaur after adding eyes, a mouth and some scales. Kiyoshi would nudge his dad to show his masterpiece to which Sakusa would reply with a pat on Kiyoshi's head added with a feather-like kiss.  The emergency meeting took about an hour and a half. Just as they were wrapping up,  Atsumu's attention was on Kiyoshi. The faux blond wanted to impress the boy with his artistic skills. Whatever animal Kiyoshi wanted to see, Atsumu would draw it. "Can you draw a snake?" "That's easy." Atsumu drew on the corner of the paper. When Kiyoshi, inspected the drawing, he shook his head. "That's not a snake." "What are ya talkin' about? It is a snake!" "That's a worm." "Ya wound me, Kiyoshi-kun!" Atsumu fake gasped which made Kiyoshi laugh. Suddenly, an idea popped into his head. "Hey Omi-kun, let's have a play date. My Katsumi is almost the same age as Kiyoshi so—" "No." "That's great! My babies could join too!" Bokuto added. "Wait, I—" Sakusa was interrupted once more. "Hey, that's actually a neat idea." Barnes, who was watching them, piped up from his seat. He looked to their captain sat beside him. "What do you think, Shugo?" The captain of the Jackals pondered on the idea, pursing his lips. "That's actually not bad. Like a family day for the team, right?" Sakusa sighed. He's probably not going to get out of what's about to happen.

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tags: @plump-peach​ / @keijikunn​

04.19.2021