#b) i can’t just. sit at home and watch it on loop

[sseastar]

✶ what we do.

info. song eunseok x reader. fluff, suggestive if you squint. established relationship. description. little things in your relationship. word count. 1k. warnings. they take a shower together but literally just for the purpose of a shower. a single word in parentheses makes it suggestive.  listen to. fire and the flood by vance joy.

as always, please leave feedback and reblog with feedback tags as it’s the most important thing when it comes to motivating writers on here! without feedback, i have less motivation to keep writing so pls pls pls do not just like and empty reblog! it gets very draining and unmotivating to see when that happens!

Loving Song Eunseok is loving your best friend. It involves him turning off the light in the hallway as soon as you get home from class or work, so that you have to grope around in the dark following the sounds of his giggles just to greet him with a hug. “Song Eunseok!” you’d say, to which he turns the light back on to appear right beside you, before pulling you in towards him by the small of your back and leaving a lingering kiss and smile on your lips.  Loving him is pretending you’re anything but in love in front of your friends, until they finally take the hint that you are together when you quietly get up to join him at the stove. “To help him cook,” you say, but you do nothing to deny their allegations when they tease you about the way the two of you had just kept giggling and nudging each other as he mixed the fried rice. Your lingering touches on his arm and the way he dipped his face a lot closer to yours just to speak to you before laughing said too much. 

It’s going to the same university, having met him through your friend Sungchan during a club meeting. Loving Eunseok is walking to different buildings to help set up labs during your shift at work and moving past the table he's sitting at as he waits for the current lecture to get out. He only winks at you when you make eye contact then, not wanting to disturb you during your shift, fully pleased with the little smile that creeps up on your face. Song Eunseok also refuses to let you leave your shared apartment without a kiss, so loving him includes trying to wriggle out of his grasp before you go to class, and beckoning him over to your front door for that little good luck charm in the form of physical affection if you already have your shoes on. Loving him involves the little ways he keeps you close at the grocery store or mall, gently hooking his finger into your belt loop to make sure you don’t stray too far in your excitement, or by slipping his hand into your side pocket as he stands behind you to help you pick the ice cream flavor. It's how he orders both flavors of ice cream you were torn between getting, allowing you to pick the one you wanted more and eating the other, even if it was his favorite. 

Loving him is loving the way he always follows the sidewalk rule, silently shuffling your body towards the inside of the sidewalk without a word, and the way the two of you link arms and huddle together with your shoulders scrunched up like you’re freezing as you walk, regardless of the weather. It’s gently moving your hair that got stuck underneath his hoodie or under your backpack after putting it on so it’s not pressed against your neck. It’s letting you sit between his legs when he’s propped up against the headboard or against the foot of the couch, his arms encasing you over your shoulders and how he dips his face to look at you whenever you turn your face to tell him something about whatever you’re watching. It’s him letting you smush your face into his shoulder the entire time you’re watching a horror movie that just might be too much for you, but can’t bear to leave his side. 

Loving Eunseok is loving the way he kisses your knuckles, bringing his soft lips to the back of your hand and letting the sweet scent of your skin linger against his face. It's the way he always seems to admire the way the silver band on your right ring finger looks when paired with an extra hair tie you always have wrapped around your wrist (for you or for him…or probably Wonbin, but it doesn’t matter). You’re used to the way he seems to just stare at the way the combination looks against the steering wheel when you’re driving, and sometimes you have to remind him that you’re not the best left hand driver when he tries to take your hand in his. It’s the way he takes the chance to kiss your palm when the light turns red, because he just can’t wait until you’re parked. Either way, Eunseok plays with your hands regardless, just cradling them in his own because he loves the way your fingers look next to his. 

Loving Eunseok is showering together for the actual sake of saving water, without arousing desire in any way (usually). It's gently bumping each other's hips to get the other to move out of the way of the water running from the shower head, and arguing over the temperature setting. “You’re insane, I’m literally gonna burn!” he’ll exclaim when he feels how hot you set the faucet as if he isn’t used to it from the past two years of being together. It’s passing the bottle of shampoo to him after squeezing out your own quarter-sized dollop, and moving the loofa over each other’s backs. It's how Eunseok notices the little bruise on your shin from when you had run into the leg of the coffee table and the way he reprimands you to be more careful. It’s giggling when he accidentally gets soap in his eyes and helping him wash it out, and him draping your towel over your head and face as soon as you step out of the shower. He’s always got that little smirk when you lift it up from your face, finding it funny no matter how many times he does it. Loving Eunseok is sharing the same lotion and body wash, and allowing hints of lavender and chamomile to unite the two of you whenever someone associates the scent to either of you. 

It’s loving the way Eunseok doesn’t mind going shopping with you. Sometimes he’ll see something he likes (it’s obvious by how he stops and starts hovering around it) but won’t say anything about it just because he doesn’t want to carry it around. You notice, nevertheless, and you play it off as wanting that same hoodie and buying it for yourself (read: him) because you know he won’t mind carrying stuff if it’s yours. It’s Eunseok silently leaning against the bedroom wall or the door frame as you try on the new pieces of clothing you bought, full attention on the way you twirl and pose jokingly, but he finds you adorable anyway. He may be straight faced and silently observing you, but the way he picks you up to plop you on the bed and hover over you before letting his lips land on yours tells you everything you need to know.

⌕. author’s note ; i'm so easily influenced by beautiful boys with big brown eyes...was supposed to be studying for my midterm when i wrote this but song eunseok, jung sungchan, and park wonbin on my brain 24/7 recently.

⌕. taglist ; @enhacolor @soobin-chois @koishua @chrysbibi

[luminousbeings-crudematter]

https://www.tumblr.com/luminousbeings-crudematter/732600401361321984/this-tiktok-immediately-reminded-me-of-your this but he comes home one day and hears you and your vibrator with the video on loop and gets sooooo fucking cocky.. hes already got this big fat ego that swells stupidly bigger once he realises how badly even the smallest things he does affects you... forces you to finish cumming to that video and goads you when you whine and turn away in embarrassment... makes you ride him after that to thank him for giving you wank bank material... in the kitchen when he's behind you he bends down and uses that low breathy deep voice to whisper some smart ass dirty one liner that has you dripping 🙄🙄🙄🙄 hate this man 🙄🙄🙄🙄

guided orgasm guided orgasm guided orgasm

It doesn't even occur to you that the man was capable of leaving work early. 

Though, if you were being honest with yourself, you don't have a single thought in your mind, period, when you grab your vibrator and use it to assist yourself.      

But, of course, Simon walks into your shared bedroom, eyes wide, a stupidly attractive smirk already dancing across the brackets of his mouth when he sees you with your legs spread and your vibrator sitting on your clit, whilst you’re seconds away from coming.

“Can I help you?” you gasp, your hand still not moving the vibrator away, but subtly trying to close your legs.  You only realise it backfires when the new position makes the suction on your clit increase in pressure, and you actually drop the vibrator and squeak out loud.

The sound makes Simon’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead and he smiles patronisingly.  “Seems I can help you, love.”

You use your hand to subtly hide your phone under the covers at his words, but of course, Simon notices the movement, and his smile turns smug.  “Didn’t know garlic aioli could get you goin’...would’ve got some home for ya.”

“Simon…would you be a doll and fuck off?” you mutter and it just makes him laugh out loud.  In the background your vibrator continues to drone on, low and quiet, and appallingly, your phone continues to play the video with his recipe he’d sent you earlier, and you’re convinced there’s not a hole big enough that could open up under you to fit both you and your embarrassment inside it.  “Seriously, just leave.”

“Nah,” he says casually, and leans against the frame of your bedroom door with his arms crossed.  “You can continue, love, don’t stop on m’account.”

“Excuse me?”

“You were doing quite well, sweet girl.  Felt good, didn’t it?”

“Well…yeah, b–but,” you sputter.  “I can’t do it right now, in front of you, Jesus, just go!”

“No.  I’d like to watch.”

“Oh my god,” you whisper in embarrassment, before he walks up to you and kneels by you.  

“I’d like to watch, love,” he murmurs and lifts your chin up so you’re looking him dead in the eyes.  “Do it fo’ me?”

Well.  There's clearly no saying no to that.

You want to roll your eyes at him but he can tell that you’ve given up asking him to leave, and so he just leans over forward so he can kiss you.  You taste his cigarette on his tongue and it’s so, thoroughly, comfortingly Simon that you find yourself losing yourself in that kiss, sinking deeper into the mattress.

But Simon hasn’t forgotten.  He manages to turn off your phone (thank fuck!) and turn on your vibrator, pressing it greedily into your palm.  “Go on, then, love, give us a show.”

You bring the vibrator back to your clit, and almost headbutt him—your entire body twitches from that first contact and you moan out loud at the feeling, involuntarily.  Simon’s sitting back on this haunches now, eyes fixed on your cunt, and you squeeze your eyes shut.  “This—this isn’t fair, fuck—”  The vibrations feel like they’re originating from deep inside your skull now, and you have to bite down on your own lip, hard, to stop your breathless whine.  “This is s–so embarrassing—”

“Oh I know,” he moans, mocking your distressed plea with his own fake, sympathetic whine.  “Feels fuckin’ good, though, doesn’t it, pet?”

And fuck, it so fucking does.   You’re clammy and sweaty, and you’re so beyond wet right now, unable to tell the difference between your sweat or the wetness between your legs, and it feels so good,  your body more than primed, more than ready to fling itself off that proverbial cliff.

“Want to—god, can I come on your cock, please, Si—”

“No, baby, you’re gonna come just like this.”

“Simon, please,” you wheeze, your fingers scrabbling for and then finding his forearm, nails digging into him.  “Please, please—”

“No,” he insists, and it makes white-hot lightning arc up your spine.  “It’ll be good for you, love, so fucking good, when it happens.  Do it.  Make yourself come.”

Your body curl inwards at his words, giving in to it, letting yourself get swept away by the pleasure.  It hits you in waves and crests and peaks and troughs, and still the vibrator keeps buzzing against your clit and you’re so sure that the pleasure will never stop, never stop obliterating every nerve in its path.

When you’re finally able to float back into your body, gain sensory access to your surroundings, you just about have the energy to turn your head to the side and look at Simon. 

And god, is he so irritatingly, devastatingly handsome to you right now—bright blonde hair curling just slightly, framing his handsome face, and if that weren’t enough, the sight of his broad chest makes you want to reach out and touch him, touch what you know to be hard, strong muscle. 

When he notices you glance down at his trousers that are straining with his erection, he touches himself slowly and readjusts, blinking at you, slow and steady, eyes intoxicated with lust.  His own eyes drop down to where your legs are splayed open, too tired and overwhelmed to do anything right now.

“Fuck me, you’ve got such a pretty pussy, haven’t you, love?  My turn to play with it?”

[justjozzyjitters]

Short Story #7

I the Journal, She the Girl

In being a journal, you learn many things about what it is to be honest. There are the things you tell the people you love to prevent them from worrying, the things you tell yourself to get rid of the shame that comes with lying, and then there are things that you tell me. I’m a trapper-keeper of all the things too morbid to say aloud.

That is the worst part of being a journal. I know my owner’s deepest darkest secrets but can’t do anything about them. I wish I could somehow nudge myself out from beneath the coffee cup full of pens off her desk, jump onto the floor, and use my crumpled pages to crawl my way out of the depths of a teenage girl’s bedroom, but I am just a journal. I don’t have limbs, I don’t have eyes, I don’t have ears, I don’t have a mouth. Instead, I have skin to let me feel every little impression of a desperately moving pen and tears as they melt away her writings and a mind filled with the thoughts shared between the girl and me. I am only to feel.

“Dear Diary,” she began, as she usually does in one of her more chipper moods. It’s unusual for the girl to write when she is anything but sad or angry, but this time her letters loop about themselves, and little hearts dot her i’s and j’s. “I know I don’t write a lot apart from when I am upset, but I figured today would make a good time for an update. I think things are really starting to look up for me.”

During the few times I’ve witnessed her happy, she always starts in nearly the same way. Perhaps if she was a bit more superstitious, she would avoid the heartbreak that comes from so blatantly showing off all the good things to the demons that want to take her home.

“I finally started my new job at the restaurant. I don’t mind all the hard work, but it is starting to weigh in on me a bit,” and here it comes, “There is this lady who has been there for a while now and, least to say, she is a b*tch.”

The girl never curses aloud, and even in writing, she doesn’t have it in her to express the word entirely. It has become one of the many things I love about the girl, along with how she decorates my pages with little figures and stories rather than the curses most people her age are always spouting. Even if I could hear, I don’t think anyone could surpass the purity bestowed within my pages and the heart of the girl.

“I am trying my best, I really am, but when you are working as a hostess, a buss-girl, and waiter all at the same time, you can’t do things completely perfectly. All she does is sit at the bar and chat with our more welcoming customers while I must pick up her slack.”

The girl is the most hardworking person I’ve ever heard of, yet the most insecure.

“Then, whatever work I do for her is never up to her standards. I am a bit of a perfectionist myself, but Tessa is awful. Last night I was half sweeping under a table and half watching the door for any new customers, but apparently, I wasn’t doing it right. She roughly tore the broom from my hand before forcing me out of her way and doing a worse job than I had. I know I should have just stood up for myself, especially being that she isn’t even a manager, but instead, I ducked back down behind the counter while I tried to catch my breath.”

She has been doing so well at preventing anxiety attacks, but now one person has single-handedly brought the girl back to me. Though I’m just a journal, I can still feel anger. I’m at my happiest when I go the longest without being written in, as that means the girl is happy.

Last time, I hadn’t heard from her in over a month. I didn’t even know that she had a new job or made a new friend named Samantha, but I was fine with that. Now I hear from her a couple times a week, “Tessa this, Tessa that.” I am happy to spend time with the girl but not as happy as I am without her. I love the girl, but she is sad.

The more the girl is sad, the closer I come to death. My days are coming to an end, and I am afraid that the girl won’t tell me how this all ends.

It is during this time that the girl is at her saddest. She begins carrying me around with her and skipping lines as she writes as if she can’t help but try to get through the last ten or so of my pages as quickly as she can. The girl loves writing in journals, and she has many of them. As much as I love her, I will always be hers, and her never just mine. I’m not the girl’s first journal or the last. There are big ones covered in stickers and others small and letter-bound like me. On one shelf in her bedroom, she has the graveyard I will one day join to blindly wait for when she decides to remind herself of past happenings. That likely won’t happen, though, for she can’t remind herself of sad things to be happy.

I only had two sheets of paper left to be filled when I felt a different set of hands. The girl stowed me away beneath the hostess counter where she worked, leaving me often to guard it while she was off picking up Tessa’s slack.

Those hands weren’t as soft as the girl’s; the skin between each finger tended to snag loosely against my binding when she flipped the page. These hands didn’t hold a pen and kept going wrong. The girl never looks back through my pages nor has me without a pen.

The girl and the stranger are very different in feeling, but then suddenly familiar as I feel a warm tear splatter onto the last page. The stranger is sad.

“Dear Kelly,” the stranger begins suddenly, adding fuel to the fire with unfamiliar writing and a pen too cheap from my pages. “I never knew how my behavior has affected you, but I will try to be better. As I’m sure you know by now, I am sick, and I just learned you are too. Having you here has sort of made me feel better, but I have done nothing but hurt you. I can’t just make you into my punching bag anymore. You do fine work. Love, Tessa,” She finished shortly, closing me back up and placing me back in my original position beneath the counter.

It seemed like she may have more to say, but then she came to my final page. As a journal, you have a short lifespan, and it makes it hard to be able to witness the stories end.

Kelly finally comes back. Her hands are soft and tender as she works at my pages, flipping to the back she has yet to find out was already filled. She goes through me twice, finally landing on Tessa’s entry. Kelly’s index finger quickly scans the page, reading everything once. Then again. On the third read-through, she roughly flips past the pages, takes ahold of the final two sheets, and rips them from my spine.

In doing so, Kelly seemed to calm down, as if taking away my pages would make the events that transpired seem slightly less accurate. She didn’t seem to trust that Tessa would apologize honestly and how dare she try to change the story in Kelly’s own diary.

Maybe I had been a bit biased up until this point. There are many sides to the story; Kelly’s was always mine. She takes the pages and rips them out as if I would just forget and still be entirely on her side. Still, Tessa’s hard hands left impressions on all the other pages and the cover I can feel to read again and again as I try to understand matters as a journal I never before have.

About 2022, age 18.

[ninjaotta]

little detective pikachu things i noticed on my second viewing

spoilers!

the two aipom walking in tim’s nicked trousers with one tail through each leg

pikachu weaving round tim’s feet like a cat when trying to convince him to work together

joltik on the wires outside the apartment

slaking sleeping just. everywhere. they show up on the background of a bunch of scenes

tim CRYING over his mum ily bby

pikachu saying sweet mother of arceus

lucy being adorable and dramatic. tim being useless

lucy and tim being THE RIGHT AGE - justice smith is 23, kathryn newton is 22 so they’re not like. 30 somethings playing teens they’re supposed to be early 20s and they look it

the mr mime scene is still HYSTERICAL

tim’s voice sounding like he’s behind glass when he’s in mr mimes space

mr mimes “hair” going down when he’s being soaked in gasoline

BEATBOXING LOUDRED

togepi in the club/battle scene

why does tim say pikachu can use discharge when everyone else says he knows thunderbolt

charizard being injured by tim stepping on his tail according to pokedex saying charmander will die if the flame goes out

gyarados evolving is SO COOL

my boy wanting a good relationship with his dad and CRYING for the love he wanted i love tim

eevee is so FUCKING cute like a lil kitty

flareon cute as fuck too

how the FUCK did they did get bill nighy in on this oh my GOD

this movie playing the overdramatic detective noir genre for comedy and it’s great

why is RITA ORA in it??????? what the shit is this movie i love it

tim being soft and scared and dumb i love him

lucy is so chaotic dumbass i love her

LUCY’S PSYDUCK BACKPACK

dr laurent says we’re canonically 20 years after movie 1

“get a headache you neurotic duck”

“that’s a great fifth option”

pikachu: gets beat up by charizard and is fine

also pikachu: gets hit by a pebble and requires the healing power of mewtwo

the torterra that wake up and fuck EVERYTHING up to just immediately go back to sleep

i want FIFTY BULBASAUR IMMEDIATELY

THE LITTLE NOISES THE BULBASAUR MAKE I WOULD DIE FOR THEM

the ditto roger with the sunglasses on looks like milo yiannopoulos and that fact contributed very well to me despising him

i’m in love with the image of ryan reynolds crying while singing the pokemon theme tune in the recording studio

mewtwo saying “run!” before it gets gassed i cried he protec

emolga is TOO CUTE

psyduck’s voice changes slightly as lucy

the ryme city theme slaps

electro ball looks SO GOOD

the mewtwo-pikachu battle was so badass

love the use of ditto while being HELLA creepy

pikachu canonically has a scruff like a cat and i love it

mewtwo looks so noble when it promises to fix the mess

ryan reynolds playing like. a dad. as his own age. i like it. but it was kinda weird tho bc i’m used to him being the younger dumbass hero

the whole cinema gasping and losing their minds every time pikachu said “pika” in his normal pokemon voice

the pokemon yellow & manga style credits with the theme music over it

each of the characters converted into manga versions of themselves

the fact that rita ora was in the movie and had a song on the credits

the fact that pikachu’s “i’ve been so lonely” and his first attempt to talk to tim, plus the unique body language he has, all make way more sense when you’re watching for the second time. see also: the difference in how pikachu moves in flashbacks to the crash and at the end after things are restored - he moves more like ash’s pikachu because he’s an actual pikachu now

despite its simplicity the movie REWARDS REWATCHES and doesn’t feel boring because like. it’s pokemon. it doesn’t get better than this

[cigtray]

BEATINGS, BRUISES AND LAUGHTER

Pairing: JJ x Reader

In which: Nobody can successfully calm JJ down the night he freaks out. Everybody slept in a chateau with a friend that screamed all night and wouldn’t let anybody touch him. Till on the porch when the pogues hear him laughing.

Category: Angst (¿) but also Flufffy

Warnings: cursing, a lil kiss, typos

You couldn’t have known, how would you have known? There wasn’t any way for you to have known that this wouldn’t be another lovely day of messing around on the S.S. Pogue.

You had worked at the ship wreck the night before, taking orders and almost spilling trays of waters. So there was no way to know what you missed…

“Who the fuck does he think he is?! As if I’d ever willingly do anything for him?! In exchange for what?! Huh?! Bruises? Hell no! To hell with him!” It had been an hour and a half since JJ had practically crumbled in front of his friends, and absolutely refused to let any of them try to even remotely help him. He rambled; he talked about how it hurt, the things he craved, he talked about wanting a home of his own, of wanting a father, he talked about beatings and about pain. He talked about his abuse.

While all his friends wanting to hold him, to silently talk to him in their softest voices he refused, exclaiming “this is why I can’t say anything! Look at you all! Pitying me!” It had gone on, and on, and on. This was only the start at nine p.m.

At 11 p.m. the clattering of things could be heard along with the screams of JJ and John B., who had resorted to helping his friends in the fashion of wrecking things.

CRASH

There went a plate.

BAM

A skillet hit the floor.

“FUCK YOU DAD FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! I HATE YOUR GUTS!”

Down went a delicate China teacup.

At 12 a.m. You would see Pope comforting JJ by silently driving him around in the boat, letting JJ sit to the side and dangle his feet off the boat with a blunt in hand.

At 1 a.m. you’d see Kiara try to softly place a hand on JJ and say “hey, why don’t we-“ but he’d only jerk himself away and say “I don’t wanna fucking talk about it Kie.” And silently walk away from her.

And by 3 a.m. you’d find JJ crying while the others slept.

By 10 a.m. in the morning? You’d find (y/n) and JJ on the porch. At least that’s what the others found.

“Hey J!” You laughed excitedly as you moved a little faster to reach the blond. “Hey there (y/n)” he said softly “bit early for you huh? Rough night?” You slowed your walk as you neared him, looking at the tired look that seemed to make itself at home on his face. “Maybe.”

“A maybe is never quite a good thing with you Maybank.” You told him, raising an eyebrow while coming to sit next to him. “And why would you say that, milady?” He asked, silently thanking you for not prodding at him. Hed tell you, just not yet. He needed a little bit more of a peaceful mind before he could relay all that had happened. And you’d worry, he knew you’d worry. “You remember when you made me fruit loops? And I asked you if the milk had expired? After I ate an entire bowl? And you told me maybe?” JJ snorted at this, “you threw up like three times” “yeah and you and John B just laughed at me.”

JJ wrapped an arm around you simply sighing before saying “do you want to smoke with me?” You tilted your head up to look at him, he really did look tired. And you’d be a fool not to notice the tears streaks that had been left there, or maybe you just knew them all too well. You did spend a lot of time staring at him. “Are you trying to get me high so I’ll eat expired stuff again?” You asked with a sharpening of your eyes and a small smile “I would never in my life EVER do that to you, princess” he proclaimed. “Then I guess, maybe I’ll smoke with you.” You told him “Maybe is never a good answer coming from you” he remarked.

One blunt later

“No way grasshoppers are like that?!” You shouted, “uh yeah they can fly, (y/n)” JJ couldn’t help but laugh, you were such a lightweight, anytime you got high he knew you were in a whole new dimension. “(Y/n), what do you think about… spaghetti?” He watched as your eyes glazed over with a faraway look “oh god, spaghetti… JJ make me spaghetti” you all of a sudden looked very determined “hell no! I’m comfortable!” JJ sighed dramatically as he flopped himself over onto your lap. “No! No! I want spaghetti!” You cried as you wedged your small fingers into his sides and tried to pry him from you.

JJ couldnt stop laughing. Not only were you unintentionally tickling him but you were also so determined to get him off you for the chance of spaghetti that you were scrunching your entire face. “Good lord- (y/n)- stop- you- you look like- the grinch” he gasped between breathes. “I do no-!”

“JJ?” A very not awake John B stumbled to where the two of you sat. “Are you good bro?” JJ glanced between the two of you and saying “yeah, I’m good now dude.” And simply turned, completely ruining any work you had done of getting him off you, as he cuddled into you once again. “J, I think we should take a nap instead of getting spaghetti. Lets eat spaghetti in our dreams, okay?” You sighed as you brought your hands to his hair “oka-“ “you know your hair reminds me of spaghetti…” JJ was quick to pull back a bit “don’t get any ideas here (y/n)…” he watched as you smiled “maybe just a little, bite, you know?” And you were lurching forward while he lurched back, simply dumping you both to the ground. When you landed with a thunk John B must have decided JJ was really okay because he receded back into the chateau.

“Just one bite okay?” You said lowly as you leaned in, softly closing the distance between your lips. JJ in that moment tasted like salt, maybe some kind of peppermint and just a smidge of weed, but god if you didn’t love it. He gently hummed into the kiss, bringing a hand to your hip as he propped himself up on one arm. It felt like you could stay there forever, with him, with his warmth.

“(Y/n)?” JJ asked as you pulled away, already focusing your intoxicated sight on his lips. “Thank you for the laughs.” He smiled before reaching a hand up to bring you back down to him.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Ok you amazing person. Demon Sapnap, but the reader is really sick or maybe is in an accident and ends up in hospital. Sapnap and Dream both visit and get jealous of eachother. Eventually Dream leaves and Sapnap is just there like 👁👄👁 And then after a day or two the reader is finally home and Sapnap is like really pent up because he has been jealous Horny and reader has been in hospital and he just rails them, but softly because reader is still weak. Basically jealous soft-dom Demon Sapnap.

This is just an idea- by no means do you have to write it :)

I'm begrudgingly writing Dre as Mr. Steal Your Girl for obvious reasons (/ j), but also I couldn't pass down this idea for incubus 3 ;) I'm also going to include a few other requests I had about Sap's backstory and some smut. enjoy!

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋𝐒 & 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐒. ⛧ 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐮𝐛𝐮𝐬!𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐧𝐚𝐩 (𝟏𝟖+)

warnings: smut (18+), spanking, degradation, thigh riding, domination, literally quoting the b!ble

here's a playlist for those of you that were asking for it. i would love to see what the rest of you are listening to :)

previous part

You opened your eyes slowly, the ache in your body fully coming to your attention as you noticed the metronome of beeps coming from the machines connected to the tubes in your arm. You turned your head, squinting as your eyes struggled to focus on the figure beside you. After a few minutes, your brain pieced together his features and your heart eased when you realized it was Sapnap. For some, obviously ungodly reason, his presence brought you a sense of calm.

His feet were kicked up on the edge of your bed, his eyes scanning over a magazine as he chewed on his bottom lip absent-mindedly. He was dressed more casually than he usually was, probably an attempt at blending into the general public. You reached out a hand, fingers brushing against the soft material of his dark crewneck to get his attention. His gaze moved to look at you, a smirk painting across his pink lips.

You cleared your throat, tongue feeling like sandpaper. “What happened?” You grumbled, reaching beside him for the remote to elevate your head.

He watched your movements carefully. “You got a fever and then passed out cold,” he reminded you softly, making you groan. “Dehydration.” You couldn’t remember what he was talking about, only feeling nauseous in the middle of the night.

“How long have I been here?” You asked, rolling your head on your shoulders as your neck cracked, your limbs popping as you moved slightly. The IV pinched your arm as you moved, making you hiss quietly, making his eyes focus on where it was attached.

He hummed in thought. “A few hours. They wanna keep you until tomorrow, just in case you die or something,” he shrugged, tossing the magazine on the couch in the corner of the room.

You rubbed one of your eyes, a yawn rippling through you. “And why are you here?”

He chuckled. “Obvious reasons,” he stated, nodding towards the bite on your shoulder. “Also, Saint Dream was the first on your emergency contact list, so…” You pulled your knees to your chest as you looked at him.

“Even if it’s just because you have a quota to meet, I’m glad you’re here,” you muttered and something flickered behind his eyes, a smug expression tugging at his lips.

He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees, feet planted on the ground. “You’re not part of my quota, baby.” Your cheeks flushed at his words but before you could respond, he tensed up, eyes clouding with a darkened gold. They always shifted when something was intruding. You furrowed your brows at him. “Lupus in fabula venit enim ad me,” he mumbled darkly, the venom of sarcasm dripping from his voice as a knock came at your door.

Clay stuck his head through the threshold, eyes softening at you. Sapnap watched him silently as he stepped inside, rambling off how worried he was about you. Clay seemed to ignore Sapnap’s presence as he settled a batch of roses on your nightstand. Sapnap rolled his eyes and once Clay finally acknowledged him, he made a face like he was smelling something rotten. Sapnap looked like he was ready to snap Clay in half if he approached you closer, yet his dark demeanor didn’t dissuade Clay. In fact, it seemed like Clay was hell-bent on ruffling his feathers more, pulling up a chair on the other side of you.

“I didn’t think he would be here,” Clay commented, voice dipping slightly as his sights shifted toward Sapnap, irises flashing brighter. You perked an eyebrow at him.

Sapnap scoffed, leaning back in his seat. “I’m here because she wants me here,” he commented, nearly with a boasting tone. “So, it seems like I’m in the right role to ask what the fuck you think you’re doing.” You kept silent as the two played their game of wits and egos.

Clay smirked at him as if he was in possession of some esoteric knowledge. It dawned on you that you weren’t sure how old either of them actually was. You had dated Clay for god knows how many years, yet you learned more about his past from Sapnap than you had in any of the years you were together. “It’s still in her best interest that she be given options that don’t involve your kind,” he gritted.

Sapnap laughed shortly, a cockiness settling into his appearance. “Oh yeah? In her best interest or in yours, you selfish prick.”

Clay’s jaw tensed, a sigh flooding from his nose. “We can do this more maturely, you know? Like fucking professionals.”

Sapnap shook his head. “I’m not up for negotiating,” the stated bluntly. “Go near her again and I’ll report you,” he assured, his deadpanned stare making your heartbeat quicken.

Clay swallowed, eyes glued to Sapnap’s as the pair of them flexed their dominant personalities. Clay’s eyebrow twitched as if he had thought of something, almost mockingly. “Begone, Satan, inventor and master of all deceit,” he began, making Sapnap roll his eyes again before cutting into Clay’s quote.

“-enemy of man’s salvation. Give place to Christ in Whom you have found none of your works,” he mocked. “Try and exorcise me all you want, feather boy.”

Clay’s hand moved to curl around your wrist and Sapnap leaned against the bed, as if asking Clay to make his next move. “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour-“

“Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that the family of believers throughout the world is undergoing the same kind of sufferings,” Sapnap cantered without a thought. “It’s not even the right verse for this, stupid bitch,” he grumbled.

You cleared your throat, pulling your arm away from Clay and trying not to look as if you were slinking towards Sapnap. “You should leave,” you stated, Clay’s lips pursing at your words. “I need to rest.” Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sapnap’s sly expression cutting into Clay.

After spending another night in the hospital, you were finally unlocking your apartment door and letting Sapnap help you out of your coat. You mumbled something about getting yourself a drink and he brushed you off, already doing it himself. Your mind was racing with questions after what you had witnessed between Clay and Sapnap. You hadn’t doubted the authenticity of Sapnap, but your mind still ran with what had happened to him. He handed you a water, sitting down on your couch as you paced slightly.

He broke into your thoughts. “Go on, tell me what you’re thinking,” he stated, unbuttoning his shirt slightly. You wanted to hex him about the fact that he probably already knew what was pounding against your temples to be asked.

You chewed on the inside of your cheek, rolling over your questions to censor some of them. “The bible’s been translated and reprinted so many times, how are you still…” you gestured with your hands, unable to explain where you were going with your statement.

He chuckled, brushing a hand against his chin. “It really doesn’t matter if it’s actually God’s word or not. It’s a guide, like an outline. Rules, I guess. Think about it like the Constitution.”

“I thought demons like… burned up when someone quoted the bible at them…”

His face fell a bit at this. “No, we just can’t read it,” his tone was almost regretful, sending guilt to pulse through your body because you had asked. “It’s like it’s in a completely different language, and each time I look at it, it shifts around the page. When you get dragged into hell, something happens with your eyes.” He huffed slightly, wetting his lips. “It's kind of like an isolation thing. He wants you to be completely aside from him.”

Your mind clicked, eyeing your heirloom display case. “Can I try something?” You asked, popping open one of the doors after he hummed in response. You fished out your grandmother’s rosary, the cross feeling almost heavy in your hands. You turned on your heel, bringing it closer to him before dangling it in front of him. His eyes drifted away from it, his gaze turning up to you. “Does this bug you?” You probed, making him snort. He took it in his hand, thumb caressing over the design.

He shook his head, chewing on his lip. “It’s a shameful thing really. I feel guilty whenever I look at this kind of stuff,” he muttered; you sat on the arm of his chair and looked over his shoulder. He turned, looping it around your neck. “Does it bug you?”

You held it away from your chest. “For different reasons, I guess.” You stood again, putting it back in its spot beside a photo of your grandfather. “Why’d you get kicked out?” You queried softly, peering over your shoulder.

He was watching you. “Maybe another time.”

“What about your childhood?” You asked. “Did you have one?”

“I know more about your childhood than I do my own. Why all the questions?” He countered with a soft laugh.

You shrugged. “I want to get to know you…” You mumbled, your hand drifting up to rest on your shoulder, feeling heat coming off of his scaring bite mark. “How do you know when to show up?”

He sighed, leaning his back against the chair and stretching his legs. “I can feel when you get anxious. Angels have some kind of block though, that’s why it took me so long to realize you needed me when that bastard was over here.” He shook his head almost like a new fire about Dream had been lit. His eyes flickered up to you. “Unless you weren’t scared.” You shook your head quickly at his joke. He chuckled. “How does it make you feel that I’m in your head sometimes?”

You approached him again. “Narcissistic,” you answered plainly, sinking to your knees before him. You ran your hands up his thighs, a smirk growing on his features as he sat up to be closer to you. “What happens after I die? Eternal damnation?” You questioned, as his hand went to brush against your arms.

He pressed his lips to your neck before digging his fingers into your hair as if he’d been waiting to touch you for days. You hummed as he kissed you, the slight scruff of his unshaven face feeling soft against your cheek. “You shouldn’t have to worry about that. I think I’ll make you immortal or something. Being with me should be enough damnation,” he jeered, making you laugh. “Most of my colleagues take the souls of their targets and leave, but I enjoy your company,” he teased.

“But you already have my soul, right?” The line felt strange coming from your mouth.

His lips brushed against yours. “There’s still an innocent piece of you that I haven’t tapped into. Everyone has it; I like it in you.”

Your eyebrows perked at this, fingers digging into his thighs to make him groan. “What do you mean?”

He kissed you briefly, actions getting needier the longer you were between his legs. “It’s completely pure. Untampered by sin or desire. When a demon gets it, they go feral,” he mumbled, nose pressing into the crook of your neck, teeth dragging across your skin.

You tilted your head to the side, fingers tracing over his zipper. “Take it from me,” you breathed, leaning into his touch.

“No,” he answered blatantly.

You moaned as his tongue slipped against your collarbones. “I want you to have it,” you continued, voice uneven. His fingers tugged at your hair.

His breath was warm against your shoulders. “I’ll take it after a few years. I don’t want it now.”

You pushed him away from you, his eyes already blown with lust as you looked into them. “You just said demons want it so badly. Take mine.”

He chuckled, hands dropping to your jaw. “No,” he repeated, voice light.

You sat back on your heels, looking up at him with a tilted expression. “Is mine not good enough for you?”

He wheezed. “No, it’s perfect. I just… After I take it, it’s like you’re dead. You’re not the same. Your humanity is gone.” He pulled you back up towards him. “I’ll take it when I’m ready to escort you to hell.”

You quipped an eyebrow. “Oh, so you just don’t want me to see your place?” You joked, making him roll his eyes. “Maybe Clay was right. What’s the verse about confession?”

His eyes darkened playfully. “For with the heart one believes and is justified, and with the mouth one confesses and is saved.” It was mind boggling how he could probably quote the whole Bible and was as… sinful… as he was. “Bring up Dream again, and I’ll make sure you can’t walk for a week.”

Your eyelashes fluttered. “You bargain for a fun game," you quipped.

He chuckled darkly. "It was more a light-hearted threat, dove," he muttered.

You sat forward and pressed your lips against his hungrily, letting him pull you into his lap as his fingers curled into the loose ends of your hair. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his shirt, exposing his chest to you as he tugged at your own clothing. Your teeth dragged against his lips as his hips ground up against you, needy for friction.

You pushed your tongue into his mouth, moaning as his hands moved to your thighs, his blunt nails raking against your jeans. You rolled your hips against his lap, feeling him harden beneath you. He spread his legs further, coaxing you to grind against him as his hands pushed you down to rut against his leg.

You were breathless as you pulled away from him, one of his hands fisting in your t-shirt to bring you close to him, lips and tongue pressing against your neck. "I didn't tell you to stop riding my thigh," he commented darkly, bouncing his knee to make you moan.

Your hand wrapped around the wrist of his hand holding you in place, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth as heat spread across your body. He pulled your shirt over your head, your bare chest at his mercy. Your mind blurred at the sensation and the feeling of him sucking his mark into your skin, making it clear who you belonged to.

You moaned, digging your face into his neck as he rolled his hips against your leg. "Please, Sapnap. I need you," you whimpered, voice a soft whisper in his ear. He chuckled darkly, ripping your pants down your legs as you fumbled to unzip his slacks.

He pulled you onto him without warning, a groan leaving your lips as he suddenly filled you up. "Bold of you to beg for me after associating with that bastard," he bit, thrusting up into you. "I should tie you up and let you suffer for that."

You moaned at his dark tone, grinding your hips against him. Your lips ghosted against his as your cheeks began to feel warm from the stimulation. "I might like that," you jested, your sentence breaking with your voice as he harshly grabbed your hips, driving himself into you harder.

"You're lucky you're still weak," he nipped, voice swirling with lust and power. "I'd throw you over my knee for that comment." His fingers dug into your hips, grinding against you as you bounced on top of him. You moaned at his words. His hand snaked up to wrap around your throat, threatening to apply pressure as he continued to direct your movements, thrusting into you at a deep and reserved pace. "Dirty girl. You want me to punish you, don't you?"

When all you could do was mutter a small beg, he pulled you closer to him, lips meeting yours in a mess of hair, teeth, and tongue. He moaned into your mouth, the taste of his breath was addictive and bliss-inducing.

He pulled you off of him and onto the couch beside him, slipping his shirt the rest of the way off. "I'll fuck the angel lover out of you," he joshed, a hand coming down sharply across your ass; the pain making you moan his name, hands gripping the couch as he pressed your shoulders into the cushion.

He dragged your hips into the air, pushing into you again, rocking his hips against yours with a small grunt. His teeth were sharp against your skin as he pounded into you and an animalistic pace, your mind numbing at the feeling. He pushed your knees further apart to pump himself deeper into you.

You moaned as his weight settled on the hand pinning you to the couch, your hair sticking to your sweaty face as he spanked you again, hand gripping your irritated skin. "Good girl. Take it," he nearly growled, making your skin crawl with an added layer of pleasure. While his pace and mannerisms were ruthless, he was definitely holding back, knowingly going easy on you because of your already weak body. That didn't mean he wasn't reminding you of your sour attitude as he pulled your arm behind your back, his hips snapping against your own to firmly instill his name in your mind.

You reached for the arm rest, a grounding element for you as his motions drove you over the edge in a teeth gritting orgasm, boy flushing with goosebumps under his command. You rocked your hips back against him as he pulled out, jerking himself off instead of giving you the satisfaction of finishing him off.

You groaned as you turned to look at him. "Feeling okay?" He asked, pressing his lips to your shoulder blade. You shook your head quickly and his eyebrow quipped ever so slightly. "Good," he stated, pulling you up and onto the ground in front of him again. He grabbed your cheeks. "I still don't think you've learned," he muttered, leaning back into his previous position. "Blow me," he directed, tucking an arm behind his head. "And with the mouth, one confesses and is saved, remember," he taunted.

Your eyes flashed up to his devious expression as he leered at you from his commanding spot.

It was going to be a long night.

And you were ready for it.

Taglist: (to join, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @pluto-dizzz @twist3dtinkerbell @more-like-reyna @deepestofwaters @glowstick-cafe @unstableye @tinyegg @darphobic @shroomieissmall @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg

[sugurouge]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦

oh my sweet suffering, why do you haunt me incessantly? or every time travel taken by takemichi results in a new timeline which continues to exist. inexplicably, draken's destiny of differing alternatives got mixed up and threw him into a painful loop of unending struggle. he can't fathom why you won't communicate with him anymore, why his once blooming relationship from his happy ending fell apart. until a sleepless night brings your fates to entwine one more time, allowing him one last dance with you. alternatively; you see a stranger in your home and suddenly all the odd occurrences in your apartment have a reason

pairing: draken x female reader

genre: angst, hurt, comfort, smut, pain

wordcount: 5.5k, i'm sorry

warnings: manga spoilers, mentions of depression, minor description of death/blood/suffocation, smut eventually, pet names, female oral receiving, soft dom draken, i hope it's obvious that he's a ghost

song inspo: save your tears by the weeknd, aria by jung jin-woo, god knows i tried by lana del rey

notes: i wrote this while i was very sad :')

Dread floods your system the moment you arrive at the front door of your apartment, the feeling only manifests itself further once you come into contact with the door handle to enter your home. Its chilly air is almost as heavy as your heart while you quietly rid yourself of your coat and bag.

“So we’re back to you ignoring me? Like you have for weeks now. That right?” Draken asks with too much edge to his voice as he watches you undress. But you don’t even flinch over its harsh sounds as you walk past him into your bedroom to take out the dress you had planned to wear tonight.

It’s gorgeous, perfect for your figure, hugging you in all the right places for the man to your right to groan in annoyance. “Could you just stop being so dismissive?” Despite your continuing silence does the distance between your figures diminish for Draken to stand right beside you.

Here he is, reaching out his hand for you, like he did numerous times over the past few weeks. But just as expected, you ignore his existence by walking into the bathroom. Getting dressed and styled up, all to drive him mad the minute you grace him with your dolled up figure.

You’re the prettiest girl Ken has ever seen; too pretty for your and his own good. And he knows you won’t reply, “let me at least come with you.”

The hours he spends sitting in your apartment feel endless. No TV or phone in use as the brunet simply stares at the clock on your wall, waiting impatiently for your return. Praying you will come back at all. His fingers run through his hair, tugging on its roots before he covers his face with his palms. How did it even come to this? Why are you still here? Are you petty enough to wait for him to break up with you?

Dozens of questions run through his mind until the click of the door falling into its lock brings immediate silence. His eyes fly up almost immediately, long legs remembering their purpose as they get the man to rise and walk over to your figure. Either you talk to him tonight or it will end, he reminds himself—repeating the words like a mantra.

“Did you have fun?” Draken tries to break the ice while you discard your shoes at your entryway, yet your pretty lips stay glued. Plan B is to address you with names you once loved and if those don’t spark a positive reaction, he at least hopes to garner any form of negative attention. “Baby, please. Aren’t you tired of this?” He swears, he is close to grabbing your arm and forcing you to look at him. His fingers already twitch to reach out and tug you back, but if there is one promise he made to himself, it would be to never scare you, hurt you.

So he lets you wander off, but not without calling you “Princess,” one more time. One last time. The poisonous undertones don’t even seem to bother you as you vanish into the bathroom. It hurts, it breaks his heart because he can’t remember what he did to you. Draken struggles to recall a time where you two were ever this unhappy, all the memories he has are positive. Sure, there were fights but nothing as grave as this. Usually everything was okay the moment your eyes found one another again after spending some time apart. It would be enough to have you crumble and fall only harder for another. “What happened..?” The gentle question gets stuck in his throat as tears brim his lashes.

Unfortunately you don’t seem willing to offer him an answer either once you open the door and only torture the poor guy with silence. He feels as if he is invisible. But when did you become such an expert at ignoring his existence? Usually it takes just his presence or a call of your name for you to notice him and grace him with your sweetest smile—like he is your whole word.

You always made him feel seen. Your unyielding support for him brought him to stand where he is today. Owner of his own bike shop, on the right side of the law, and a ring in his… pocket? He had a ring ready, Draken recalls, before panic floods his system.

The treasure hunt through his clothes ends fruitlessly, but does it even matter anymore? It matters, Ken decides, or his feet did, as they already carry him to your bedroom. He sees you seated on your spacious bed, watches the small tremble to your figure even before he can hear the hiccups. Worry is what courses through his veins upon this discovery and without a single care he find himself kneeling in front of your figure, careful not to get too close but leaving you the option to reach out; if you desire.

“Baby, can’t you finally talk to me? You torture me just as much with everything…” Yet upon your ignorance he loses his last straw as the words begin to pour out of his lips. “If you keep going you know we’ll end up apart, right? You keep pushing me away, keep treating me like I’m nothing. FUCK, look at me. Can’t you finally look into my eyes for once in your goddamn life!” His blood is boiling and your figure is trembling, soft features hidden behind your hands as you only cry more.

Regret.

Draken regrets raising his voice for the entire night. You went to bed without talking to him. Another night where you didn’t even wish him a good night as he once more claimed the spot on your couch.

As the man watches the moon gradually rise and illuminate the room, he decides it's time for a change.

He’s not even sure why sneaking through the apartment seems safer than walking. He still lives here, after all. Yet he feels like a mere gust in the unit as he makes his way toward the front door. Only for his eyes to land on your figure in the dark kitchen, throat dried and in need of water after your night out. It’s at this moment that your eyes land on another and the room falls silent, when you can’t manage to look away from him.

Now, when he finally decides to move on with his life. “Why are you—”

The shatter of glass interrupts his question and brings his brows crease in confusion while Draken watches your expression shift to something unexpected. Something close to being afraid as your feet take two steps back when he approaches you. “It’s just me.” He tries to calm you, but it doesn’t seem to work. Not until your eye contact breaks as you look for any tool or weapon in your kitchen.

You laugh to yourself after taking a deep breath. A 'ghost' is really not something you expected to find in your kitchen, but it explains an awful lot of occurrences you recently had. And thankfully, it is gone the moment your eyes fly up in search for the intruder who stood in the threshold only a moment ago.

And even with the return to your bedroom, body safely tugged beneath your soft blankets, you still notice the drop in temperature which happens almost every night. Tonight, your freezing figure is highlighted by the moonlight as you stare into the void, wondering where exactly you went wrong in life to end up with a possible ghost in your unit and this constant sadness hurting your heart while everyone around you finds love and a home. You can’t even remember the last time you felt your heart beat in excitement or heat coursing through your body upon the touch of another human being.

Here they go again, the diamond droplets eager to stain your pillow cases. You only huff a soft laugh over your own pathetic state.

“Please, stop crying.” Is what the man beside you murmurs while he watches over your shaking figure.

Who broke your heart? You can’t even remember. Unsure about the moment your life fell apart as your memories turn hazy whenever you try to remember your love. For tonight you surrender to the unknown when your eyes grow as heavy as your heart.

Yet your body freezes once you turn around to see someone beside you. A tall man with broad shoulders and dark eyes, so soft and filled with nothing but pain as they meet your gaze. His ebon hair is long and loose, it frames his face perfectly and contrasts so beautifully with his skin tone you can’t even find it in yourself to be afraid of him. Your conscience screams for you to halt your movements, but you already find yourself reaching out. A shaky exhale escapes your lips as your palm rests against his cheek and you feel trails of pain taint his skin once you carefully thumb over the swell of his cheek.

At that, your connection brings together traces of another timeline, of an entirely different life you shared. Something that should have never been able to reach the you in this reality.

Draken leans into your touch and you marvel at the sight of his eyelids fluttering shut, as if he can finally be at peace now that you’ve blessed him with your gentle hold. The beauty of his dark lashes tickling his cheeks is almost as breathtaking as the newly found love hidden in his irises once he meets your magnified stare again.

Goosebumps trail over your form when you feel the cool touch of his fingertips against your wrist before they glide along your arm as silence engulfs your figures; you can’t find it in yourself to question what is happening. The way this man looks at you is so familiar you feel no fear and only find comfort in his touch while he seems mesmerised by every little part of your figure. Ever so gently can you feel his touch glide along your neck, fingertips pushing against your beating pulse and tracing over your jawline before his thumb swipes against your cheekbone. “You’re so breathtakingly beautiful, you know that?” He whispers into the night and brings rivers of salt to map out your face. “Please, don’t cry. I can’t see you cry anymore.” His plea is filled with unspoken emotions he dares not to address, not when you finally acknowledge him again.

“Are you real?” Your whisper breaks the eerie stillness of the moment, as well as his heart. You see it firsthand by the fresh set of tears dancing along his waterline while his lips press into a thin line.

Your question causes something inside his body to stir. The curiosity of your words inflicts a throbbing pain he hasn’t felt in weeks. It starts with a sharp inhale of breath before it seems like his lungs can’t expand any longer. Panic floods his system and he searches your eyes for an answer, but you seem even more lost than him. “I am?” I am real. I am right here, always beside you. Always, like I have for the last few years. Stop this stupid play. Stop hurting me.

There are so many things he wants to say yet none leave his trembling lips. Why can he suddenly no longer feel your soft skin beneath his touch? Why is your pretty face nothing but a blur? Where are you going and why can’t he hear your heavenly voice anymore? “I don’t want to go,” he breathes as the familiar feeling of his slowing heart greets him again. He’s bleeding out all over again. Again? Where do these wounds come from? Why is everything…

While everything seems to end for Draken, your gaze is unwavering as you lose yourself in the depths of his eyes. He exudes such a calmness that you don’t dare to break this moment. Not when someone finally looks at you like you are their everything. Dream or reality morph into one as you surrender yourself to this destiny and close the distance between your bodies to steal a tender kiss from him.

At the feeling of your lips, he is freed from the torture of his death and is overwhelmed with the information flooding his system, as he can’t decipher which memories are correct. The ones with you of this established life or the ones where he decided to join his past love.

Love.

You are love. His love, lover. He gave it all to you, didn’t he? He entrusted you with everything you offered him in return and promised to take care of it until his final breath.

Emma.

I’m on my way, Emma.

Upon the tired words ringing inside his mind, Draken breaks the kiss and looks at you—at the woman who once helped him get over the girl who never once was his.

“Do you not know who I am?” Draken finally dares to ask and feels himself die once more upon the meek shake of your head. “I’m not sure. Are you a…?” Ghost.

Draken swallows his emotions and looks at himself. Feels himself, feels you again. “I don’t know.” Is his truthful answer. “I only know I am yours. And you’re mine.” The brunet pauses once more upon the lack of his beating heart. “I… was yours?” He corrects himself with a bitter expression on his handsome face.

You decide it doesn’t belong there. “A smile would look prettier on you.” You speak before you think and feel how your bashfulness practically renders you defenceless as Draken immediately complies. Tender loving care, adoration, familiarity. He’s no stranger. You begin to understand when you see his smile for the first time and feel how your heart is about to burst from its influence. “See, I knew it,” you whisper and the innocent giddiness accompanying your words is the strongest weapon someone could use against Ken. His smile stretches until dimples decorate his cheeks and tears glaze his eyes to have the moonlight reflect its beauty in his desiring gaze.

His hands rests beside your legs as he can’t find it in himself to stay away from you. “I’m sorry.” The pause to his words that follows suit offers you a window to react to his proximity.

Meanwhile, your warmth draws Draken in. The racing of your pulse dancing beneath your skin guides his fingers along the only body he knows by heart. “I’m sorry for abandoning you in this life. I’m sorry I gave up…” you hear his swallow beside your ear while he shields his face from your curious eyes by resting his forehead against your shoulder.

“I don’t know why I’m here.” The emotions carried out by every syllable that left his lips makes you feel for him. Pity, compassion, love. Your fingers brush his hair back and reveal his intriguing tattoo. A sound of recognition puffs against Draken’s skin upon the distant memory of your fingers tracing the outlines of the dragon tattoo while the same man found solace in your arms.

The images fill your heart with warmth and make it burst in pain at the same time. A love so kind was once supposed to be yours, whereas now, you find yourself alone from day to night.

“I’m sorry.” Draken repeats rather hushed, “I had no clue of all the things I would miss as—” as he was shot to protect someone he considered his family.

You adored Takemichi; you were so intrigued with their story and couldn’t believe you finally were to meet the real guy at Pah’s wedding. Mitsuya even made a dress for you to wear that day and to Draken you were prettier than the bride herself. Unable to take his eyes off you the entire night—his entire life. You were all he yearned for after the pain he endured as a teenager.

He remembers the conversation with Takemichi where he promised to not interfere with your life, but suddenly the same guy sat crying right next to him as raindrops mixed with Draken’s own tears. The memories of Toman and Emma combine with Takemichi’s plea to stay alive.

Because you are Draken. The time traveller argued back then, alongside a name Ken couldn’t remember.

Your name.

Takemichi talked about you, Draken finally realises the moment his arms circle around your waist to hold your figure close against his chest. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done and could never do.” He breaks down in your arms while the information he holds closest in his still heart brings yours to life.

How you met, how he fell in love with you, how he admired you throughout every step of the way. The thought of his kisses burns bright in your mind and you crave for a feeling you’ve never experienced.

For a moment you wonder if Draken can read your mind when his lips tentatively ghost along your collarbone. Widened eyes dart up to gauge your reaction, yet you seem as surprised as the culprit himself. “I can’t make it up anymore… I know you can’t take me back.” Draken reveals in the safety of your embrace while another kiss creates the oh-so-unfamiliar sensation of tingles on your skin. “I wish I could stay.” He further confesses while his pecks turn into lingering kisses along your neck. His hands smooth down your waistline before they follow the familiar swell of your thighs for his fingers to brush over your skin. “You’re so beautiful. Don’t ever forget that, okay?” He waits for you to agree. Tender chocolate eyes find joy in your small nod before the whispered “Okay” from his favourite voice dances in his ears.

Yet his momentary grin surprises you, as well as the kiss to your inner wrist, which steals an involuntary moan from your lips. “So pretty,” he murmurs as he closes the distance between your figures. His palm cradles the back of your head while his lips linger against your forehead when he speaks. “Can I show you how much I love you?”

You don’t even find it in yourself to reply with the way your throat tightens up. But your nod is answer enough for Draken, it’s the consent he needed before his lips dip down to meet your own. They move perfectly against another, as if your muscles remember a dance from a long time ago, especially once your tongues engage to deepen the kiss. If only you could breathe back air into his lungs.

Experienced fingers find their way down along your neck and shoulders, supporting your body to rest back into your mattress and let Draken lean above you, shielding you from the world in his safe embrace. Kisses. Kisses on kisses spoil your entire being as if he tries to make up for all the missed out days he could have worshipped your figure. With every piece of clothing he discards, you feel a kiss to a spot previously untouched; from the swell of your breasts down to the sensitive skin on your inner thigh while the comforting darkness of his eyes never strays from your gaze. “So perfect,” Draken whispers into your skin. “You’re always so perfect for me.” His hands hold your waist like they did so many times; but where once he shared his warmth, he now sends shivers down your spine upon the cold pressure of his fingertips. He listens to the orchestra of your beating heart with his ear pressed against your chest—what he wouldn’t give to share this feeling with you once more.

“Ken…” tentatively do you let the name roll off your tongue, careful not to break this illusion by any mistake you could possibly make and wake yourself up. But the man reacts to your little call and looks up into you with wide eyes, curious to find out what you wish to say. “H-How long have we been together?” The question is silly, you scold yourself, but curiosity has always killed the cat. “Over six years” he is quick to inform you before turning his head once more to continue guiding his lips down your body; allowing himself to enjoy the rise and fall of your stomach upon your deep inhales.

“You’ve loved me since I was 18,” he teases. You can immediately tell by the mischievous expression on his face. “I don’t believe you.” He chuckles upon your words before your attention is on anything but your little argument when the kiss on top of your panties feels that good. “You’re right. You didn’t like my hair back then.”

A satisfied hum reverberates in your throat as if you could actually recall his bleached strands, where in fact it’s quiet praise for his lips. “Why that?” Your low question forces Draken to use his brain instead of getting lost between your thighs and he hesitates before he replies. “I was blond.”

If he could, he would blush as you dare to giggle in his face—like you didn’t just nearly moan for him. “You’re so pretty with dark hair,” you’re quick to add as a soft smile spreads on your lips, “too pretty.”

“That’s why you suddenly fell for me, eh?” He mocks, and knows you wouldn’t know, but he remembers. He remembers how difficult it was to get you to talk to him. God knows he tried to get on your good side after bumping into you on the street. Who would have thought someone like you lived that close to his shop while never meeting for years? He remembers your first interaction during this awful summer heat, when someone finally wasn’t too afraid to talk back to him. A single, fiery look shared between you and him was all he needed to allow himself to be attracted to someone again. You turned out to be the cutest riddle begging him to be solved, waiting for him to cradle you in his palm once you felt both ready to love. Faux blond hair turned black, boyish features slimmed down and his heart bloomed again for a new love, a fresh breeze offering him the joy of living again. Of experiencing what he never could with his first.

Why did it turn into this?

The soft call of his name tears him out of his memories and he wishes he could give you all of these moments from another life. Is it even another life? Do multiple timelines exist? Are you together somewhere else? God, he hopes he makes you happy in another life.

“Let me show you what we had.”

At that, your lips find each other once again. The kiss is desperate and deep, it almost seems like Draken doesn’t ever want to pull away now that lack of oxygen can’t hold him back anymore. That is until he catches your panting figure beneath him; your lips are glossed in your mixed spit and your pupils dilated in deep desire. “Just like this…” He whispers against your parted lips before kissing you again. “You’re always so beautiful when you crave me.” Your mouth swallows his words like you’re starved of his compliments.

Starved, parched, abandoned.

His fingers wrap around your wrist and guide you to touch him. He is real after all, even if just for a moment. Allow him to feel your touch, to revel in your warmth as your hand sneaks beneath his shirt and pulls the fabric off his figure. Neither of you expect to find scars on his body. The three shots he took remain as innocent looking scars, unable to fathom their actual grievances, not when the ugly scar of his first death is right beneath.

God knows he lived. He lived, survived and died. Died so many times and lived only one more. Survived the one he always dreamt of where he found his future. His forever. God knows he begged Takemichi to keep you safe, yet he never imagined dying himself again.

You tear him out of his thoughts as your fingers roam his body, from the first wound beneath his heart down to his liver as your tears seem relentless tonight. “Don’t cry.” Draken urges you with a gentle voice and cradles your cheeks to thumb the wet trails away. “Focus on the now, hm?”

The now, with a slow kiss to calm down your aching heart while your hands rest in the familiar curve of Draken’s nape, caressing the sensitive area until he shudders in delight and sighs against your lips, softly groaning as you manage to pull the same reactions from him as always. You would do anything to hear that sound again, forever.

You indulge in another and allow your hands to shamelessly roam a figure that once was your comfort. Unravelling him like your personal present with every glide of your fingertips from his scalp all the way down to his pants.

“Just like that. Relax for me.” Draken whispers as your foreheads meet to allow a new discovery of another’s features. Up close he is even prettier, with soft and full looking lashes to frame his dark irises. You can’t refuse your selfish wish to let your fingertip smooth over his lips before your eyes lock on another again.

Just for a moment, for a few seconds, you get to experience true tranquillity as your shared look conveys countless emotions before you’re closing the distance with a passionate kiss. Only the thin layers of your underwear keeps your bodies separated while his touch has you burning with desire. His lips find their familiar way along your jawline and chest while the hand resting on your spine makes you arch against his kisses, allowing Draken to shove his face into your chest and encase your nipple in the warmth of his mouth.

Shivers ripple over his skin when you finally bless him with a soft moan of his name while his hungry gaze remains focused on your pretty face contorting in tender pleasure. He takes his sweet time spoiling you with nips and gentle sucks, tongue swirling around the perked bud for him to relish in the writhing of your figure. “Beautiful.” He pants into your skin as your fingers thread through his dark tresses to let his unruly mane lose.

The rougher skin of his palm went on an expedition as it travels down your body. Nails tickling your stomach and applying pressure to your inner thighs before the gasp falling from your lips confirms his arrival at your most sensitive spot. “Let me hear you again,” Draken whispers against the dampened patch of your underwear before pressing a soft kiss on top of your clit.

Your small hums in pleasure were clearly not enough for him, judging by how quickly he tugged your panties down and spread your thighs for his mouth to spoil your aching core. A greedy lick along your folds makes you yearn for more of him, all of him. And the teasing trail of his finger running over your slit, spreading your arousal through your folds all to circle your clit until you were nothing but a panting mess had his cock throb in desire.

“Such pretty sounds.” Draken dives in at these words, allowing your legs to rest on his shoulders while his mouth encases your clit. Suckling on the pearl until your hips buck against his mouth, begging him for “more”. And more he is eager to give as his finger slides inside your clenching hole, working you open for a second and third— it’s like your body recognises his ministrations.

You’re unable to contain the tremble of your thighs, toes curling in while your moans turn more shameless with every drag of his fingers inside your pulsing walls. You weren’t sure what to hold on to until the hand wrapped around your clamping fist reminded you of beautiful locks ready for your torturous grip. The groan hitting your folds in return only drove you further toward your high as you desperately held onto every crumb Draken offered you.

White clouds your vision the moment his tongue circles your clit and gushes around the determined fingers pumping inside your gummy walls. Draken relishes the heavy orgasm he steals from you as you make sure to let him feel the impact his touches, kisses and licks had on your figure. Your whole being was enwrapped in euphoria, chest heaving up and down as if you were trying to breathe for the both of you while your mind allowed nothing but his name to be formed by your lips.

At some point you can’t even hold on to him anymore, grip on his hair slacking as your body grows lax. But suddenly, the taste of your cum forced your attention on the lips moving against your own, on the tongue slipping inside your mouth.

You succumb to it, to him, and let your hands smooth over taut muscles and through soft strands before they wrap around the waistband of his boxers to finally allow your figures to melt into one. He was pushing into you, stretching you, testing and bringing you past your expected limits, all while your moans met in the shared space between your parted lips, brushing and teasing another with the faint contact.

A deft hand skims along your inner thigh and adjusts your leg further for him to find a secure home between your thighs. “Doing so perfect for me,” you drink the praises from his lips while your legs are held open by Draken’s hands, nails leaving soft dents behind to stabilise his form on top of you. “Gonna let me move now?” He murmurs against your lips and you nod, replying a “please, do,” in a slightly higher-pitched whine as his cock remains nestled deep inside your gummy walls, pulsing in need.

You didn’t expect him to pull back until he could knock the air out of your lungs with his first thrust, but Draken always loved to surprise you. You whimper upon the stretch, hands flying up to cover your face and the filthy noises coming from your trembling lips.

He isn’t having any of it. The firm hold around your wrist tells you as much as Draken reveals your pretty features once again. Soothing your mind with a gentle shush against the shell of your ear while he traces your cheekbone with his thumb. “Let go for me.”

He feels your walls ease up once your bodies are flush against another, dousing you with a safety blanket created by his figure as your legs wrap around his waist and your hands come up to cradle his face in your hold. Draken leans into your touch and lets his eyes fall shut, experiencing bliss in the smallest touches while his hips find a languid rhythm inside your walls.

The deep groans ringing against your skin has you tightening around him, holding onto him every chance you get now that even your arms are wrapped around his neck and your fingers buried in his locks, nails scratching over his scalp.

Draken soaks up every moment. From the way your pussy hugs his cock tightly, to the squelch of your wetness, the moans and whimpers. Why can’t this be his heaven?

“Good girl, taking me so well.” He presses his face against your cheek, diminishing any distance there was left while grinding his cock deep inside you. To your surprise, there is no rush to his movements, no desire to ruin you, but instead make you feel loved and desired. Draken always knew how to make up for his lack of verbal affirmation.

The sounds of your mixed moans creates a requiem for love as your eyes hold this distinct spark you always praised him with when he brought you near your orgasm.

His head dips down to claim your mouth once more, eyes shut to allow himself the pleasure of getting lost in you for the last time. “Mine,” he whispered against your lips, movements relentless in order to push you over the edge.

That’s when your nails dig into his skin, drag along his shoulder as your back arches into him. He was thrusting inside you harder as his unfiltered moans hit you raw with his cock throbbing inside you.

At that, you came. Head squishing the pillows beneath you as you sink deeper into your mattress, pretty moans and praises for his name sounding your bedroom as Draken’s movements remain unfaltering. Until he follows your demand and groans your name, head falling into the safe crook of your shoulder and neck when he comes. He pantes in sentiment, not that he still needed air, but it felt good to have your chests rise and fall against another.

Here, in this moment, you created a passionate bond that will survive for eternity. With your heart thrumming against his chest, beating for two as tears brim your lash line. You nuzzle against his temple, allowing yourself to stay in this moment where you feel nothing but bliss.

And God knows he loved—God knows you’ve lost. This is where your story in this timeline ends.

.

.

.

Do you remember our first? It was such a beautiful summer. Would you believe me if I told you that promise still waits here?

The marigolds will bloom when we are on our way to meet again, in the place where the sun shines bright, I will stand there and wait for you.

Until then I’ll let this heart go. So, I hope you can forget me for now, I hope you will live your life.

[drabbles-mc]

Outnumbered

Creeper Vargas x F!Reader

Inspired by Day Nine of the July Prompts: beach

Warnings: language, talk of pregnancy, Creeper being the soft & fun dad that we all know he would be

Word Count: 1.8k

A/N: This takes place in my pre-established Dad!Creeper universe. I love this whole family dynamic, which I will refer to as the Wolfpack lmao. If you wanna read more about this lil Vargas Squad check out these fics: X, X

General Mayans Taglist: @garbinge​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @paintballkid711​ @tomhardydallasstarsgirl​ @queenbeered​ @sillygoose6969​ @sesamepancakes​ @yourwonkywriter​ @chibsytelford​ @gemini0410​ @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead​ @plentyoffandoms​ @georgiaaintnopeach​ @twistnet​ @themoonandthewicked​ @bucky-iss-bae​ @encounterthepast​ @rosieposie0624​ @mylittlelonelyappreciationtoo​ @mijop​ @xladymacbethx​ @blessedboo​ @holl2712​ @lakamaa12​ @masterlistforimagines​ @kkim120​ @toni9​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @petlaufeyson​ @crowfootwrites​ @redpoodlern​ @punkgoddess-98​ @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ @berniesilvas​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​ (If you want to be added to the taglist just let me know!)

The kids jumped out of the van and immediately started sprinting towards the water. You laughed, calling after them to be careful and not go up past their knees until you and their father made it town to the shore. All three of them yelled some kind of acknowledgment back to you and all you could do was shake your head with a smile. They’d been waiting so long to come to the beach.

“Need me to carry something, Neron?” you asked, already knowing what his answer was going to be as you rested your hands on your stomach.

He shook his head, “Nah, mama, I got all this shit,” he leaned in, kissing your baby bump and then your lips, “You go ahead and find a spot for us.”

You chuckled, “At least let me take a chair or two. Or the towels. Something, please. You’ve only got two arms, baby.”

He pulled one towel out of one of the beach bags and handed it to you. When he saw the look on your face, he shook his head, adamant about his position, “You’re one over-exertion from having our baby on the beach.”

“Neron, c’mon, don’t be—”

“I’m good,” his smile was so sincere, it still made your whole heart feel full, “Go on. I’ll catch up.”

You smiled, not wanting to push the argument any further. You gave him one more kiss on the lips before thanking him and heading towards the shore. You could hear the laughter of your three children, and your smile grew as you watched the twins chase down their older brother, kicking water at him the entire time.

You laid out your towel to stake a claim on a small stretch of the beach. Looking back over your shoulder, you saw Creeper defying the laws of physics as he somehow managed to get all of the gear down to you in one trip. Cooler, chairs, umbrella and all, nothing got left behind. The laugh that slipped past your lips was involuntary as you watched him drop everything next to the towel you’d laid out.

Stepping over to him, you pulled him into a kiss, “You never cease to impress me.”

Lightly running his hand over your stomach, he smiled, “I should be the one saying that to you.”

Much to your surprise, he let you help him get everything set up. You laid out the towels for the kids and got the chairs set up for yourself and for him. You left him to wrestle with the umbrella—that was always his job whether you were pregnant or not. While he was doing that, you called out to your kids, waving for them to come over to you. They hesitated, not wanting to give up even one minute of being in the water, but when they saw the way you crossed your arms over your chest as you waited, they booked it right over to you.

“Sunscreen first, then you can go back to playing,” you told them as you pulled the bottle out of the bag.

They moaned and groaned, but they let you put it on their backs and faces. They took care of the rest, and you smiled at the little white streaks that were left on their arms and stomachs from their rushed jobs, too eager to get back to the water. The three of them were practically vibrating waiting for you to let them know that it was alright to go. Once you gave them a nod of approval, they were off and running again. You laughed as Brandon scooped up the bucket and shovel as he ran off, the small plastic shovel banging around with every bumpy step that he took across the sand.

“This alright?” Creeper redirected your attention to his umbrella setup.

You smiled, nodding as you saw he made sure your chair was perfectly shaded, “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“Whatever you need.”

He peeled off his tank top and a smirk instantly found its way onto your face as you watched him toss it to the side. He turned back to face you and when he saw your expression, he immediately chuckled and shook his head. Without even realizing it you found yourself biting down lightly on your bottom lip.

“Don’t be lookin’ at me like that in public, mama,” his smile was contagious.

“Sorry,” you stepped in closer to him, running your hands over the ink that covered his torso, “I can’t help it.”

Before either of you had a chance to say anything else, a shriek came from the edge of the water. Both of you turned to see your son tossing entire buckets of water at his sisters. You both laughed and Creeper gave you a kiss before taking off towards them to try and calm the situation before it got too out of hand.

You slowly and carefully lowered yourself down into your beach chair, keeping your eyes on your family the entire time. As you felt the restless kicking inside your belly, it sank in that the next time all of you came to the beach together, your family was going to be just a little bit larger. You shrugged off your coverup, and even though it was a thin piece of fabric it felt great to go without it, instantly running your hands over the exposed skin of your stomach.

While you were getting out your book and a drink for yourself, Creeper came trudging back up to your designated space. You flicked your eyes up to him, smiling as you saw the water running down the smooth skin of his head.

“I see you got caught in the crossfire,” you said with a laugh.

“Your girls are brutal,” he shook his head with a smile.

“Oh,” you rested your book on your stomach and gave him your full attention, “so now they’re my girls?”

He laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead, “They’re your beautiful little savages, mama.”

“Mhm,” you chuckled as he opened a bottle of water and took a long drink from it, “I’ll remember that.”

You looked back down to the water and saw the three of them at least getting along now, no doubt plotting something together against their father for when he returned to the danger zone. It was impossible not to smile as the three of them huddled together. Looking over at your husband, you found him with his eyes fixed on you, a soft smile on his face. He twisted the cap back onto his water bottle before tossing it onto his chair.

As he went to take off again, you reached out and grabbed his hand before he could get too far. He whipped back around to you, concern on his face, “Yea, baby?”

You chuckled, motioning for him to come closer, “You gotta put on some sunscreen.”

He shook his head, “I’ll be fine.”

Narrowing your eyes at him, you gave a slight shake of your head, “Remember what happened last time you said that? You got all blistered up. C’mon. If I make the kids do it, I gotta make you do it too.”

He knew better than to argue with you, so he let you put a generous amount in his hands while you got up to rub it into his back and on the top of his head. You chuckled when he flinched at the coldness of the lotion. As you took a couple extra moments to really work it into his shoulders, you felt his body relax under your touch, and it brought a smile to your face. He reached back, placing his hand over yours before turning to face you.

“I love you.”

You smiled, nodding, “I love you too.”

“You gotta promise you won’t get mad at me, alright?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, “Mad at you for what?”

The edges of his lips curled into a smirk as he took the leftover lotion on his hands and smeared it in a line down your face with a laugh, leaving a bright white streak behind as he took off running, shouting back to you how beautiful you were and how much he loved you.

You laughed, rolling your eyes as you rested your hands on your stomach, “You’re lucky I’m pregnant and can’t run after you, Neron!” you paused, and after a few seconds you thought better of it, “Alex! Ava! Brandon!” you called out to each of your kids, smiling when they all snapped to attention and looked at you, “See if you guys can dunk your father before we go home today!”

They all let out screams of joy and excitement, smiles taking over their faces as they ran towards their dad. Creeper looked at you, the weight of defeat making his shoulders slump slightly as he accepted his fate. You laughed as you slowly lowered yourself back into your beach chair. Within seconds the twins had attached themselves to Creeper’s legs and Brandon was attempting to climb up onto his father’s back. All four of them were laughing and you were honestly impressed by your husband’s ability to stay upright.

Your son was fully attached to Creeper’s back, legs securely wrapped around the man’s torso and arms looped around his neck. You chuckled as Creeper crouched down, trying with all his might to pry his daughters off of his legs, tucking them under his arms as he made the short walk into the water and dunking them instead of the other way around. Their laughter could be heard all down the coast and it was impossible not to laugh from where you were sitting.

“Your turn, B-Dawg,” he laughed as he reached back and lifted his son off of him, lofting him into the water, the young boy cackling the entire time.

Once the three of them had been sufficiently tossed around, they settled into a calmer activity of building a sandcastle just out of reach of the high tide waves. When they seemed fairly calm, Creeper made his way back up to you. You’d managed to get through some of your book as you watched them, and he smiled as he quickly wiped off some of the water and sand, finding his seat next to you.

“Got your workout for the day?” you looked over at him with a smile.

He chuckled, nodding, “Yea. Can’t believe you sicced my own kids on me, mama. That’s cold.”

“Fair is fair when I can’t chase after you,” you laughed, “Just wait until next year when you’re even more outnumbered.”

His laughter quieted as he glanced down at your stomach, and he gave a satisfied nod, “I can’t wait.”

“You’re gonna run out of arms,” you said with a smile as you reached and entwined your fingers with his.

He laughed, “That’s what I’ve got you for. If we stick together we might almost be able to hold our own.”

“That’s a big maybe.”

He chuckled, shaking his head, “Nah,” he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, “We’ve got this down. We’ll be alright.”

[highpope]

pieced together pt. one

posting here too because not that many people have seen it also sorry for the weird spacing idk what’s going on

JJ Maybank x pogue reader - season 2 fic

spoiler warning!

You laid in bed watching the rain hit your windows, the radio downstairs faintly describes the fate of the world. You can’t make out complete sentences without straining, but you have heard enough from the last few days to know there were no updates about John B and Sarah. The radio has been on for days on end, your parents not wanting to miss any possible update about your friends or the storm that seemed never-ending. It was like it rained for years. It was a constant reminder of the night your two best friends were driven out into the storm and everything changed. You could hear Shoupe’s words in the back of your mind, “we lost ‘em' ' on a constant loop. You could see Kiara’s face and JJ’s hands and Pope’s heart shatter. Like all the stars had come falling down and you were the only one left to pick up all the pieces. You prayed this was all a nightmare. You could wake up and not only would they both be here, but you’d all be safe. You would give up the gold a hundred times over if it meant John B and Sarah would be home.

Both Pope and Kie’s parents had called your mom every night since that day. When she thought you were asleep, she would creep down the stairs and sit in the kitchen and cry, praying they had some good news. Something that could take away some of the pain you were in. But she couldn’t, no one could. You had to hear half the town talk about John B like he was a murderer like he kidnapped Sarah like he was some delusional kid from the cut. All while you knew the Cameron’s were roaming free and receiving sympathy for what they’re going through. It made you sick to think about. They had a private funeral for Sarah. People gave their condolences and spoke so kindly about her. They scoffed at her recent behavior and her newfound friendship from “those dirty pogues.”

Sometime around day two, your mom came into your room asking if you had heard from JJ. He had been with the Heyward’s up until that morning when he’d completely disappeared.

For a second, you felt something other than grief, knowing he had been with Pope and not his dad, but that was short-lived. You tried to imagine how peaceful it would have been under different circumstances, a world in which he was always safe. One where Luke Maybank had no control over his life. You wanted to get lost in that daydream, live in that alternative reality for a while. He wouldn’t have to keep a duffel bag full of clothes and cash under your bed for when things got bad. He wouldn’t have to know how to do stitches on himself or how to pop a dislocated shoulder back in place. He’d be safe. He’d be happy. She asked again if you had heard from JJ, snapping you back to reality. (you had not). You watched as her forehead creased and her lips straightened into a thin line, like something in her had broken too.

She hurts just as much as you do. At first, you contributed that to her not being able to take away your pain, which is part of it. But you later realized she’s lost a person, too. You had known John B since grade school, there were pictures of the group of you sitting on your swing set in your backyard at age nine. Ones of you, JJ, John B, and Pope asleep in your living room after attempting to build a fort. He stayed for dinners and birthday parties. She watched us grow up, every first day of school, soccer game, fishing tournament. Our families had somehow combined over the years. Not only does your mom hurt for you, but she lost a child. And that weight is heavier than anything.

You stopped crying by day three. Nothing left. You were completely and utterly numb but consumed by loss all at the same time. You hadn’t initially worried about JJ. He did this. He disappeared for a little, to clear his head, but he always came back. He never stayed away for more than three days. That’s how long it took for him to feel balanced again, maybe less, but never more. He said it was because he couldn’t get a burger as good as the ones at The Wreck anywhere else in the world, but you knew how much he loved the outer banks and the people there. You also knew that he’d never leave without you. And if he absolutely had to, he would at least say goodbye. He had to, he promised. You held on to that every time his phone went straight to voicemail. And when days four and five came and went and you still haven’t heard from him, you were worried. He should’ve crawled through your window in yesterday’s clothes with a few more scratches on his arm than he left with, but his eyes would glow a little brighter and he would still smile when you insisted he spends the night. So, when you cracked your window open and slept with your bedside lamp on (so that he could see the light from outside) and he still wasn’t there when you awoke, your mourning turned into something else. You sent a few texts, in case he somehow got them, but you were doubtful.

You didn’t know what it was like to live without him. There wasn’t a time in your life you could remember when you and JJ weren’t attached at the hip. Sometime around kindergarten, you two became inseparable, ultimately meeting John B and Pope as you got older and Kie when you all got to junior high. There was a weird couple of months around third grade where he decided girls had cooties, but it was short-lived because when JJ realized that meant you couldn’t be friends anymore he thought it was dumb and started coming over again. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when your relationship changed, the lines between friendship and something more merging and becoming blurred. If you had to, for you it was the start of sophomore year. Something changed when you were together, even just sitting in silence was comfortable and exciting. Eyes started lingering, touches became more frequent, and then one day you were just together. It’s been the same since. You think back to the first time you kissed like a couple. It definitely hadn’t been the first time the two of you had ever kissed. You were sure there had been at least one during your childhood and you vividly remember a New Year’s Eve party and a couple of games of truth or dare. But this time it was different. There was something behind it.

You and JJ sat side by side in the hammock outside of John B’s. He was smoking while using his one leg to rock the two of you slowly back and forth. You were struggling to keep your eyes open and pay attention to whatever story was being told. JJ must have noticed because he wrapped an arm around you, inviting you to lay on his chest.

This wasn’t uncommon between you. JJ was always physically affectionate toward the people he cared about and you had no problem reciprocating. You stayed just like that until it was just the two of you left outside.

JJ shifted slightly under your weight causing you to wake up. “Shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, tossing the tip of the blunt into the fire.

You nodded, “mhm.” You looked around, realizing how dark it had gotten, “You could’ve woken me up! It’s late.”

“You looked peaceful.”

You pretended to clutch your heart, “JJ Maybank being nice? Dare I say sweet?”

“Shut up,” he said, rolling his eyes. He was smiling at you like you were the funniest person in the world.

“ No, no. You care about me,” you joked, poking his chest with your finger, “you loooove me.”

“ Yeah?” he challenged, arching an eyebrow.

“Yeah,” you said, your breath suddenly catching in your throat.

“What if I do?” He asked, but it wasn’t a question. His face was serious, a glimmer of hope in his crystal eyes.

You look slightly from his eyes to his lips. If JJ noticed he didn’t lead on. He just slowly bridged the gap between you, your noses brushing for a moment before your lips connected. It was slow and careful, not wanting to push too far, but all the same, wanting to completely unravel the other. His hand cupped your cheek, his rings cold against your flushed face as you leaned into the kiss.

You heard faint screams and cheers from inside the chateau and Pope’s “Finally!” echo out. You could feel him smiling and soon enough you were both laughing. You had finally come together and nothing would take that away.

On day six, the rain stopped and the world carried on as normal. You wanted to yell at every person you saw. How could anyone feel so neutral about anything that happened in the last week? The sheriff was dead, there was a murderer on the loose, your two best friends were gone, and your boyfriend was missing. But yeah, go ahead and go to the grocery store like any other Wednesday morning. Someone tell the earth, it’s not supposed to keep spinning after the world ends.

You were lying on your bed, staring at your ceiling as you tried to fall asleep, a breeze flowed through your window and your lamp illuminated the room. All you could hear were cicadas and the wind rustling through the trees until you heard your window creak and slide open. You tried to process everything all at once, your eyes scanning over every part of his body, trying to meet his eyes. He was wearing the same clothes he had on the last time you saw him. There was dirt under his fingernails and his face was puffy from crying. His lip was cracked and covered in dry blood and bruises littered his jaw and hands. You could cry at the mere sight of him. Before either of you could speak, you collided.

You held his head to your chest and placed kisses on his hairline. You tried to wipe your tears before he could see them, but it was no use. The two of you were a tangle of arms and legs, of broken hearts and misguided minds, so desperately trying to tell the other it was going to be okay without believing it yourself.

“I miss him so much,” he sobbed. Your heart fell to your stomach and everything you had pushed down the past few days came rushing back.

“Me too,” you breathed. JJ’s arms wrapped around your stomach and he buried his head into your neck. You stayed like this for what felt like hours, thinking that if you held on long enough the two of you wouldn’t fall apart.

You heard your door open slightly and you quickly turned your head to see your mom stood there, tears brimming her eyes. You can visibly see her shoulders relax as she lets out a sigh. Your door closes softly as if not to disturb you both. You hear her on the other side of the door, “he’s here. He’s okay.”

“My dad’s gone,” he murmured into your neck.

You can physically feel your heart break for the boy in your arms and the younger version of him, trying to find a space he belongs and mourning the only one he ever found. You want so badly to hold him together, paint all of his scars golden. To remind him how much people love him, how much you love him, but no words come out.

“Guess he finally picked up and left, son of a bitch” His voice wobbled, “I went back, uh, that night to find the necklace John B gave me.”

He pulled away so he could talk directly to you. You cupped his cheeks and swiped the tears with your thumbs before they could fall. He laughed dryly, remembering, “Climbed through my bedroom window and everything. It should’ve taken two minutes tops but it wasn’t on my dresser like I thought it was. I tore my room apart looking for it. And then my dad came home and heard me, uh he was not happy to see me, as you can imagine.”

“Did he hurt you?” you ask, moving farther away from him to make sure he wasn’t bleeding or worse.

He grabs your hands and brings them to his chest, “I’m okay, I promise.”

“Is that where you were? The past few days,”

He nods, “yeah. I woke up the next day and he was gone. I was just going to get my stuff and go, but I don't know. Something wasn’t right.” He pauses to gather his thoughts, “They all really do leave, huh?”

“Don’t say that,” you urge.

“I’m just-”

“No. Do not think like that. None of this is your fault. Your dad is a fucking awful person for not loving you like you need to be loved. Like you deserve to be loved. And John B-” your voice cracks, “John B would never leave us if he didn’t have to and, and you have me. I couldn’t ever leave you. I wouldn’t know what to do with myself

He kisses your knuckles, “I know, I know. He just has so much power over the way I think.”

“But you know. You know you are nothing like him.”

He nods, not meeting your eyes.

“These past few days, J. You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“Never.” He pushes his lips to yours, urgent and longing. You move your hands to his head, bringing him closer, trying to pour yourself into him.

[withoneheadlight]

ok i saw this cap of zoë kravitz in hf and she's got such a dreamy expression, she looks so deeply self-absorbed and infatuated by whatever she's imagining and those lines. and i couldn't stop picturing billy exactly like that for days so,

,

There’s a pretty unusual sound coming off the house when Max comes back home, that summer afternoon.

Full volume. Walls shaking. And she quietly walks to the source of the sound, holding back her breath right in front of Billy's room because, there's this second sound? Stranger and way more unsettling and Max's not sure-sure at first but then Steve Perry’s voice takes off and Billy’s follows it and then he's like, singing along and. Well. Max did know Billy liked Journey but not like, their 'stuff for pussies' but uhm, he does, apparently. Rasps his voice all the way through ‘Faithfully’. Kind of, sighs. Longingly? When it ends? But pfff, ok, big brothers are weird. Definitely weirder after being possessed and then kind of resurrected. Even if it's in a good-weird way but, whatever. So Max's just about to sneak to her room, dutifully rolling her eyes, steps muffled by the first chords of 'Edge of the blade' when―

Click. Click. Billy stops the tape. Click. Takes it out. Tap. Tap. Click. Puts on― Billy puts. On,

Heaven.

Bryan Adams’ Heaven.

And Max―

Being a younger sister is a meticulous kind of full-time, private detective job. You gotta learn how the person you’ve been watching so carefully for years and years works. Hafta develop some sort of―sense about your target. And Billy’s been—un-Billy-like? These past two months. Smiling more. Telling more jokes. Playing ‘You shook me all night long’ in a loop on their drive to school and back, not complaining at all but even joining when’s Max who can’t help but sing along so.

So. She retraces her steps. Knocks. Takes the distracted grunt she gets as a ‘Yeahyeah, c’mon in c’mon in’ and,

Creak. Creak. ‘―baby you’re all that I want’

“Billy?”

Billy’s sitting cross-legged on the floor. Radio close to his knees. Cassettes scattered everywhere. Piles and piles of breakwater surrounding Billy’s old, rusty beacon of sound. He’s reading through the song-list of one of the tapes, a smoke locked on the corner of his mouth, bouncing up and down with every little, absent suck he takes, and he looks. He looks―

Self-absorbed and even. Relaxed. Happy. Like whatever he’s thinking about right now is actually carrying his thoughts away to fucking heaven.

“Ehh”

“Uh-hu?”

‘When you’re lying here in my arms!’

“Billy are you. What―” ‘I'm findin' it hard to believe. We're in heaven’ “What are you doing?”

But there’s this orbit around the sun and then there’s whatever one Billy's been spinning along with the last couple of months so he completely ignores her question. Shakes the tape on his left hand. Picks another one from the pile on his right. Asks her.

“Is Billy Ocean too much? ‘Cause I think it’s too much. But it kind of fits into what I'm trying to say so” he says, shrugs, looking up at Max and waiting for the answer of what she realizes was not really a question. Not at all. So she does her little sister job and just, nods “Right. That’s good. I think it’ll slide just nicely into Bruce Springsteen and―”

“Billy” Max insists, waiting for the charm of the third time to work. It doesn’t. Not really. But keeps Billy's eyes on her long enough to squeeze an “A mixtape?” And, uh. That’s what gets it on. The charm “Are you making a mixtape?”

“Uh?”

And it’s like Max just shook Billy out of a daydream. Ash plopping down from his cigarette as his lips try but can’t purse and Max― she’s good. She’s stellar at this detective thing. Recognizes an opening the moment she sees it, right there in front of her, frozen in the middle of shaking Billy Ocean and Bruce Springsteen in the air right before cocktailing them together. Shaken, not stirred, please. Max’s upgraded to James Bond-level just right now.

“You’re making a mixtape for someone”

“Oh-nonoMaxi―”

“But you didn’t have those tapes before. Not even in your secret stash”

“How do yo―?”

“Holy. ShIT. You’ve been listening to somebody else’s music” This is. Oh, God. This. Is. GOLD. Max gotta take a moment. Blink. Breathe. Process. Her hands move by themselves, palms spread toward Billy in a wait-a-minute kind of gesture except. Max’s gonna need way more than a minute for this “You’ve accepted a music recommendation”

“Maaaaax”

“Gosh, you’ve even listened to the tapes enough to. Make―”

“Max!”

“I just can’t believe it”

And Max was glad. Well. As glad as one can be. Bunch weeks ago. Her mom and Neil out for the day. Coming back home a little earlier than she usually does to hear those ugh. Those other noises. Happy screams. Again. After months and months of Billy being basically alone except for her and the party and Steve. And Max’s so glad, of course she is. But she’s also a little sister. And all this investigation work has a high, rightful purpose.

Make her big brother’s life a living. Hell.

“Oh my god, you must be so gone!” Max brings her hands to her mouth. Takes a deep, deep breath that’s more a poorly restrained giggle. Shoots her index at him “Is it Bon Jovi? What I’m seeing right there? Goddam, Billy are you in lo―”

Bam.

Bam. Bam!

The front door.

What a way to spoil the fun. Max doesn’t have time for this. She’s working.

“BILLY?” comes a voice from the other side “Billy are you in there?”

Steve.

Oh.

What a way to make the fun a hundred times better.

Bam.Bam.Bam!

She’s starting to move to get to the door, sinsonging “Well, I guess Steve’s gonna find out you’re so stupid in love you’re willingly listening to―” when she realizes Billy’s eyes have widened and he’s jerkingly trying to unfreeze, he’s mumbling something in around his already extinguished cigarette in the ways of “Can’t” and “Find out” and “Surprise” and “Fucking help me!” While literally trying to shove the huge mass of tapes under his bed, his tone like hurryhurryhurry!, like he would start gagging and throwing his lungs out at any given minute, so nervous he looks.

So Max doesn’t go for the door. Yet. She basks in the enjoyment.

“Oh, is it a secret romance or something?” She sighs happily, leaning against the doorframe instead. “‘Cause you look pretty worried”

Steve’s banging the door now, voice wavering a little as he asks-shouts “Billy? Billy answer me! Hey, bab―Are you ok?”

“Max, please” Billy begs. Begs. Crawling over to where a Madonna’s Like a virgin is laying with the tape looping slightly out “He really can’t find out”

“What? That you’re in lo-o-oh-oh-OH―”

Billy stops at the tone, right there on his knees. Spits his forgotten cig to the side. And in the instant it seems to take him to make up his mind they both can hear Steve shout “Ok. I know you’re in there!. I’m coming in now!!”

“Fuck! Yeah. I am. Ok?” he looks like he just realized he’s tripped. Blushes. “Making it, I mean”

BAM!

And Ohhhhhhh.

Zero-fucking-zero-fucking-seven.

“Steve,” Max gasps. Because. Hear it makes it like. Easier. To process “You. And Steve”

B A M!

“Yeah, Max, Yeah. And this is a fucking surprise and he’s gonna―”

‘I've been waitin' for so long. For somethin' to arrive. For love to come along’

Ok. Oh. Okok.

“Door!” Max hastens him.

“What?”

“You. Door. Run!” She commands, and Billy― sometimes Max can’t honestly understand how he's got the grades he's got, because Billy blinks, looks clueless “C’mon slow ass. Hurry! I’ll hide all this shit”

And Billy finally gets it. Nods. Slow. Then fast. Stumbles up. Literally runs, to get to the door.

Max still gets to hear his labored “Fuck, pretty boy. “That was really hardcore of you. That's how bad you wanted to see me?” And Steve's own breathless “Really?” Before pushing Billy's room door close with her back, and kneeling on the floor to check for stray, incriminating cassettes.

Pretty boy. Maybe Max isn't as clever as she thought she is. Or hasn’t been doing her job right, clearly.

It's when she’s making ‘It’s a kind of magic’ disappear into the rest of the pile that she lays eyes on it. The case. The J-card written almost all the way down to the B-side already. A mixture of songs Billy's heard so many times there are parts where his tapes screech, and others she'd bet her life he wouldn’t have deigned to listen to. Not ever. Definitely not because―no, for, somebody. Bowie and Cher and Cindy Lauper and Bob Seger right next to Metallica and Guns n' Roses and Meatloaf and― there. There. Almost hidden in the back of the spine. A note. A tiny, thin-lettered thing Max really, really shouldn't be reading but―

‘Thanks for driving me back.

Love. Billy’

But. That's what little sisters do too, she guesses. Intrude. Annoy. Snoop. Feel this sudden rush of relief. Of happiness. When Billy laughs softly, on the other side of the door. When Steve laughs back. Maybe a tear. Or two. But just maybe. She’s really good at this little sister thing, after all.

Hopes for stellar.

,

or: that post s3 where steve lets a camaro-less billy drive him around in his own car "really? again, hargrove?" almost every single day, for months, after he comes back, because "you’re gonna perpetually stick yourself to my ass at least let me do the one thing that frikin’ calms me down" which results in steve resigning himself to deejaying in the shotgun even if "jesus, what's that shit, harrington?" "my car, my rules, sweetheart" which results in billy developing a ‘songs steve harrington is in love with’ mental playlist, realizing he’s probably a little bit in love with the way he loves them and, possibly, a little much love with steve and then stealing steve's tapes one day and,

making a mixtape about it.

(the first of a whole lot, of love letters)

[collecting-stories]

Illicit Affairs - Rafe Cameron

Request: can i request a rafe x reader where she is john b's older sister? like they're trying to keep their relationship on the DL, but get tired of it after a year or so?

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get to, just getting back into writing more regularly again. 

The TS Anthology Series | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ you showed me colors you know I can’t see with anyone else ✰

_ . ◦ ⭐︎:*.☾.*:⭐︎◦∙._

Your brother had left you a text just before the news began cycling their storm watch, warning everyone to stay inside and be careful of Agatha, the incoming hurricane sitting off the coast of the Outer Banks. The text said simply that he and Pope were heading out to surf the surge. You texted back a ‘come back in one piece’ and sent the same sentiment to Pope before leaving the Chateau.  

The hurricane should have warranted a reason to stay inside for both you and John B but you knew better than anyone that your dad’s disappearance had left him restless and grieving. Running into something seemed the only way he knew how to cope, even if that something was a massive hurricane. You were probably running into something too, if you were totally honest with yourself. And it was just as deadly as a category five storm.  

-

A midyear rager at the boneyard, that lacked the usual buffer created by tourons in the spring and summer, meant more kooks, or just more kooks crossing the line onto pogue territory. Nothing that should’ve inspired any real issues, but Rafe Cameron was hovering closer to the keg than you would’ve liked so you took it upon yourself to move him.  

“Don’t you guys have like...a yacht party or something you could go to?” You asked, stepping into the semi-circle Topper, Rafe, and Kelce had seemed to make. All three of them looked at you, Rafe’s eyes travelling over you appraisingly. You grimaced, “if my brother sees you hanging around-”

“What’s he gonna do?” Rafe challenged, “its a free beach.”

“You know the boneyard is on the cut.”

“What are you, beach patrol?” Kelce laughed. “Go bother someone else.”

“Just get off the cut...you aren’t welcome here.” You replied, stepping away from the three of them. You turned, heading away from the group in search of any of your friends, you knew that Rafe was right, you couldn’t actually kick anyone off the beach, but you also knew that John B had been in rare form since your dad died and seeing them would only give him an excuse to get himself into trouble.  

You were practically a yard away from the keg when you felt someone grab the waistband of your shorts. Turning, you jerked away from them and slammed your hand against their wrist.  

“Shit, those self-defense lessons at the club really paid off.” Rafe commented, rubbing his wrist.  

“What do you want Rafe?”  

Ever since you had taken the job at the island club it had become Rafe Cameron’s personal mission to drive you crazy. He seemed hellbent on bothering you on a near constant level. At least away from work you rarely had to see him, this night being a rare and unwelcome exception.  

“Have you thought about-”

“No.” You shook your head, crossing your arms over your chest. In the last two weeks he’d asked you out nearly a dozen times. You always said no but you were all to aware of that split second before the no when you considered saying yes. It was just John B that held you back. If anyone in the world took the pogue/kook shit seriously, it was your brother and his friends. There was no way they would be cool with you dating Rafe Cameron.  

“Just one date...you don’t have to tell anyone. If that’s the issue?” He suggested, as if he could read your mind.

“Maybe the issue is that I don’t like you.” You challenged, watching the way he smiled, knowing that he knew you were bullshitting him. You wanted to wipe the smug grin off his face.  

“Whatever you wanna tell yourself.” He replied.  

You wanted some brilliant comeback to throw back at him but when you opened your mouth the only thing that came out  was, “do you even date?”

“For you I’d make an exception. We could go over to Chapel Hill if you’re worried about your brother.” He offered, always ready with an answer.  

You were worried about John B, he would be livid. He was so consumed with the idea that your dad was out there somewhere, stranded at sea and people should be looking for him. You had been placating him since Peterkin told you that he was lost at sea, presumed dead, but in all honesty, you had moved on already. Maybe it was heartless but you weren’t fooled into believing that the loss of your dad was a tragedy.  

“Let me show you a good time,” Rafe said, hooking a finger through the belt loop of your shorts and moving closer to you.  

“You can try,” you said, pulling away from him, “but I doubt it’ll work.”

-

You should have known then, even as you agreed to the date, that there was no need to try on Rafe’s part. He was an asshole sometimes but you had certainly never been accused of having great taste in guys. That might have been the most surprising thing about Rafe, not that he was exactly the kind of guy you would usually go for on paper, but that off paper, behind closed doors, he was different. Softer. It made sneaking around the island to see him completely worth it.  

And as Agatha bared down on the island, the decision to drive to his house as the hurricane was on the horizon seemed like a good one. It was already raining heavily when you parked your car two houses down from his, walking through the downpour to Tanney Hill. The power on the cut was on its way out, you’d driven passed already dark houses and you were sure the Chateau had lost power by now. The eight seemed to be hanging onto its power and the lights on the patio flickered as you knocked on the door.  

Wheezie, the sole secret keeper of your very secret tryst with Rafe, was the one who opened the door. Though you knew she had a tendency to double cross people, so far, she hadn’t told anyone about the two of you, a possible record in her books, and you couldn’t help being thankful. As much as you hated sneaking around, there was no way John B was going to take this development in your life lightly.  

“My brother’s upstairs.” Wheezie supplied, pushing the door wide enough that you could walk through.  

“Thanks,” you skirted passed her, taking the steps two at a time and heading down the hall to Rafe’s closed door. Wheezie had decorated hers with a wooden sign and Sarah’s had a cork board on it. Rafe’s was always blank though, just a plain white door that blended in with everything else in the hallway.  

You didn’t bother knocking on the door, pushing it open. Rafe was laying on his bed, eyes fixed on his phone, the sound of the stereo playing some R&B song you weren’t entirely familiar with. When the door opened, he turned his head to the side, confused for a split second before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side.  

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” He asked, already reaching his hand out to pull you closer as you walked over to him. He grabbed the zipper of your hoodie and tugged, getting you to step between his legs.  

“John B’s surfing with Pope and JJ’s still at work so I figured I’d sneak out and come over. See how you rich folk are faring in this storm.” You teased.  

He hummed, nodding, as he placed his hands on your hips. “Your concern is overwhelming,” he laughed, tilting his head up so that you would lean forward and kiss him. You complied, placing your hands on the sides of his face as you did. When you pulled away, he smiled, “you should stay over.”

“My brother will freak out if he gets home and I’m gone.” You replied, stepping away from Rafe just so that you could climb on his bed, pushing his phone away to make yourself comfortable.  

Rafe opened his mouth to say something before thinking better of it and shaking his head, going with a simple, “I doubt he’ll notice.”

“That a massive storm is slamming into the coast and his sister is missing from the house at the peak of it? Give my brother a little more credit babe, he’ll notice that I'm gone.” You replied.  

“Then tell him you’re here and you’ll see him in the morning.” Rafe said, turning to face you. He put his hands on your ankles as if he was grounding you there, “You know this sneaking around thing is shit.”  

Whenever Rafe wanted you to do something that you didn’t particularly want to do, like stay the night at his house or go somewhere that someone might see you, he always claimed to think that sneaking around was shit. A circumstance of the relationship that he hated when it was convenient to him, you knew as well as he did that admitting to anyone that you were dating was something neither of you had the luxury of doing.  

“I can’t, he’ll freak out.” You replied, “this is just...a difficult time for him and he doesn’t need any new issues.”

Rafe fell back onto the bed, turning his head to look at you, “he’s 16, he doesn’t need you to hold his hand through every little thing.”

“I’m not ‘holding his hand’ Rafe, he’s my little brother, I’m worried about him.” You reasoned.

“Yeah, maybe, but here you are. Every free moment you get you spend here...this isn’t just an escape when you don’t feel like dealing with your brother and his antics. You know John B and his friends aren’t my favorite people but I’ve kept my mouth shut about them. I think the least you could do is be honest with yourself...I know you want to tell him, you wouldn’t have come here in the middle of the storm-”

“I wanted to see how you guys were doing.”

“Bullshit.” Rafe replied, “you know it’s getting worse out there and there’s no fucking way I’m letting you drive back to the cut in this weather.”  

You sighed, you had known that Rafe wouldn’t let you leave once you got here. They were already advising people to stay inside and not leave the house when you decided to drive to the eight, there was no way it was safe to be out. And there was no way Rafe was going to let you risk your safety driving all over the island because John B might get upset that you weren’t home.  

“I know.”  

“So text him, tell him you’re staying at a friend’s.” Rafe urged, “it doesn’t have to be my house...you can tell him that when you’re ready.” he conceded.  

“I’ll tell him soon. I don’t like sneaking around,” you admitted, pulling your phone from your pocket and texting John B that you had gone to a friend’s house for the night and would be home once the storm passed. You sent a mirrored text to JJ, in case he was already at the Chateau, before laying your phone on the nightstand. “I don’t want us to be a secret...it’s just, complicated.”

“I know, trust me.” Rafe sat up, scooting closer to you on the bed so that he could kiss you. Keeping this secret forever was impossible, you’d have to come clean soon and Rafe was right, you had been handling John B with kid gloves ever since you had found out that your dad was dead. Telling him you were dating a kook, and Rafe at that, was an unavoidable conversation that you had been trying not to have for the past year almost. And every time you stepped out of the house you considered telling him all over again. Eventually you’d give, but it didn’t have to be tonight.  

[iphoenixrising]

DickTimWeek2021 Day 2

** Day 2: Time Loop | Jealousy | Stray AU

Welp. Time to break some hearts.

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

“Did you see that thug punch himself in the face?”

“That’s the right way to get out of an ass beating by the Batman.”

Tim, still in Red Robin, doesn’t even bother, just lets his knees buckle so he can slide down to the floor and laugh until tears are rolling down the dominio still plastered on his face.

He’s riding the concussion train with 

(J)

Josephine and she’s not as bad as some of them are. 

Dick at least tosses the gloves and gauntlets before hauling Timmy’s bruised ass up off the floor, throwing the arm around his shoulders.

“C’mon, you butt. Really Timmy, just laying here in your suit? Alfred would be appalled.”

“S’why I don’t go to the Manor much anymore.”

“Ooh, I’m telling. You’re going to be in so much trouble,” as he gets Tim down the hallway to the bathroom.

“Y-You can’t! You’re the oldest! Dami’s supposed to be the tattle-tale!”

“Nu-uh. As the oldest, I can do whatever the hell I want.”

And does he tell on Timmy? You bet your ass he does.

It’s nice when Alfred can look at someone else in the family with extreme disappointment.

Tim comes by the Manor the day Alfred video chats him, shuffles down to the Cave behind the butler and absolutely sticks his tongue out at Dick’s smarmy grin.

**

His apartment is a literal mess and Dick can’t be bothered to do much more than flop on the overstuffed couch with a groan. 

Still in his uni from the day shift, he’s too bruised and battered and tired to even think of suiting up for the night. He’s been running himself ragged for two months, the day and night shifts blending together along with the usual bullshit of daily human life, and he desperately needs a night of terrible television, junk food, and snuggles.

Like he’d been reading the room, Timmy walks out of his bathroom, towel around his shoulder and hair just this side of damp.

“Hey, you made it home in one piece.” Tim’s long fingers in his hair literally pulls a noise out of Dick he can’t ever remember making.

“Yeah, I drove down because you looked like death warmed over when we talked last weekend. Luckily for you I went grocery shopping, did a few loads of your laundry, and cleaned up a little so you don’t have to worry about housework.”

“I love you. Have I told you that recently? Like, so, so much–” is muffled by the couch cushions, but he thinks Tim can probably still make it all out.

“Mmhm, I know,” and the gentle scratching against his scalp doesn’t stop, and Dick goes a little boneless with it. “I even brought my Roku so we can binge watch terrible television while you eat something more substantial than cereal. Alfred is going to be so proud of you.”

A pat to his head and Timmy is off, slinging his towel on the rack, turning on the shower again to make sure it’s nice and hot for all those bruises and contusions.

He’s no-nonsense about picking up his previous mentor and best friend, literally stripping him down and manhandling him in the shower after a low whistle at the span of blue/black across Dick’s chest and ribs, the scrapes across his back and shoulders. 

The first aid kit tackle box makes an appearance because Tim plans for literally everything ever, and Dick finds himself sitting on his sink wearily while his injuries are meticulously treated.

He knows he eats something super tasty with meat and vegetables, his belly full, before Tim pulls him down on the couch and lets Dick lay against his chest, between his legs to sleepily float while watching God-awful B-movies.

It’s the most relaxing weekend he’s had in a while.

**

Dami sneers at Tim, arms crossed over his chest, the expression on his face begging Tim to try to deny it.

The third Robin however, is looking over at Dick with horror that the big secret is finally out in the open.

“Th-that isn’t– it’s not–” Tim fumbles desperately, “he’s been my big brother forever, that’s it!”

“Tt. Grayson may be painfully oblivious, Drake, but the rest of us are detectives. Even Todd knows of your feelings and he rarely even comes to the Manor!”

Tim’s soul literally leaves his body.

Dick blinks, completely taken back, mouth open without anything coming out.

Damian raises his eyes skyward and prays for patients dealing with these two. “What I am saying,” he tries, he really is trying here, “is that you two must cease and desist this pointless–” vague hand wave– “pining for one another. It is getting to the point of absurdity. I demand you two either discuss your need for one another or take this ridiculous mooning elsewhere. The rooftops of Gotham is no place for this,” another hand wave, “utter nonsense.”

Tim’s mouth goes dry, subtly backing away to be closer to the Ducati’s waiting for tonight’s ride. He’s pretty sure he has enough energy left in his shaky knees to hop on one and be the fuck out of the Cave before his face literally bursts into flames.

But, well. Dick was Batman.

His strategic retreat is stomped into the ground by acrobatic leaps and a very well done joint lock to keep him from immediately taking off.

Dami scoffs at them on his way up the winding staircase. He stops Pennyworth on the way and turns the butler to return back into the Manor proper, citing those two needed time to figure themselves out.

**

After several weeks under deep cover, Nightwing wearily hacks into Titan’s Tower and makes his way through the maze of hallways until he hits a hidden panel. 

Tim is sleeping on his desk, only one empty coffee mug at his workstation. Even dead in his boots, Nightwing can take a second just to look, just to sigh, just to enjoy how much every inch of this boy is his.

He journeys down the hall, flips the bed covers up, carries his sleeping partner in and tucks the blankets around him, a quickly there kiss to the top of messy, too-long hair. A shower in Tim’s perch literally makes everything in life a little less awful and exhausting, not enough for him to do much more than crawl in bed against Tim’s warm body and snuggle up close.

He gets breakfast in bed and blue-violet eyes looking at him with fondness rather than awe, gets coffee flavored kisses and a slow-paced back rub that continues down to his thighs and calves and feet. Later, he gets a date night in a nice restaurant and a sweet San Fran club scene for dessert. He gets to let loose and hold Tim’s body against him, to play them both until the gazes are intense and the low key UST between them makes other people on the dance floor give them space.

**

Witty banter is a primary weapon against megalomaniacal bad guys of any flavor. For some former Robins, it’s an art form.

Over the years, they’ve cultivated their dip and distraction to bounce off one another like a well-oiled vigilante machine. 

It should have been a standard take-down because it’s not one of their more dangerous, deadly villains. It’s not one of the Rogue Gallery baddies. It’s not one of the mobster families, not one of the super powered groups come to call. It’s not someone with hordes of thugs and deadly science waiting to take them down.

It’s a simple B&E, just Nightwing talking it up to draw gunfire while Red Robin is creeping up from behind to get the last laugh.

It’s one of a thousand times they’ve done this. 

It’s a guaranteed win.

It’s the last hour of patrol before they get to go back to Red’s penthouse and snuggle together, eat and show, probably have some fantastic sex before passing out.

The .45 shell, however, cuts through the suit, between armored plates. 

Going after the running baddies is automatic, taking them down, zip ties, and viola. They’re ready for GCPD to pick-up, all kinds of gift-wrapped.

When N finally realizes Red isn’t with him, isn’t answering comms, isn’t waiting for him on the roof, he goes back inside. He hits up B for a ride in the big car in case he missed –

– anything.

The pool of blood around Red Robin is more than he can afford to lose, and Nightwing has been in the vigilante life for over twenty years, has been official with Red Robin for a little over two, has personal experience on how his Baby Bird can take a mostly-fatal beating and still keep moving. He’s seen Tim come close with the Clench, with horrifying injuries, with any of the many bad guys they fight holding him hostage.

Nightwing has seen him perform literal miracles.

And tells him so the entire time he’s got Red Robin up in his arms, carrying him through Gotham’s skyline to the waiting car, falling in with Red on his lap when the familiar hatch slides back, the tourniquet already applied before he even shot a grapple. The struggling pulse is enough of a concern to get it together.

And even if they all gather to strip off the suit, and now it’s on to get vitals back to an acceptable range. Even if the Bats cry overhead, even if the equipment is top notch in the Cave, even if Dick is still talking the whole time, and Alfred is keeping a cool head and Bruce is gripping a hand and Damian is standing at the ready to hand implements and Cass is biting her thumbnail while she hovers and Steph is moving from empty space to empty space around the gurney –

The consistent beep of the flatline cuts through it all.

**

The Titans make it for the service. 

Each of them make a point to hug Dick for as long as possible, holding on tightly.

Bruce is silent and stoic, a little boy again when he has to watch someone else he loves being lowered into the cold, unforgiving ground. Another Robin taking a piece of his heart to the afterlife. 

Steph is red-eyed, a ghost moving around to individual circles, listening to stories she might not have known. 

Cass grips the coffin with bruised knuckles, her whole body wound tight as a string ready to snap. She doesn’t move the entire service, is already convinced leaving him to his own devices caused this whole thing. She doesn’t blame the thugs or Dick or Bruce. She blames the boy that never understood how much it all means.

Duke Thomas is back in Gotham, taking leave from the Outsiders to be here for the family that took him in after the Joker drove his parents insane. He hovers in the doorway to welcome mourners, direct them toward the book to sign-in, talks about Tim Drake with regular humans and other metas in disguise, accepts condolences with his throat tight and his eyes watery. He makes sure Dick has a bottle of water after the first hour, pats Damian’s shoulder, grips Bruce’s arm, weaves an arm around Cassandra’s back to give her a squeeze, obediently looks at the old pictures of Tim on Steph’s photo roll when she’s overcome and has to see that smile again.

In the back, Jason Todd wears dark shades and a clean black suit. Roy Harper is beside him, a hand on the broad back to keep him grounded, to keep the Pit rage at bay. If anyone knows how far Tim and Jason had come over the years, it’s the former Red Arrow. If anyone knows how much agony Jason is in at this moment, at another fallen brother, another Robin gone, if anyone had held the Red Hood while he screamed and cried and broke the utter fuck down, it’s Roy Harper.

Damian Wayne hovers right by Grayson’s side, silently supporting his first Batman, his first brother. Whenever Dick’s eyes start going hazy, glazing over, Damian gently grips a wrist to bring him back, allows fingers to lace through his own and tolerates the tight squeeze that obviously assists in grounding the oldest Robin. 

(Later when the night is crowding grief-stricken Wayne Manor, Damian will be the one to open Grayson’s bedroom door, lift the covers to crawl in behind him, to wind both arms tightly. He will be the one to take the onslaught of grief, to be soaked in tears and snot, to listen to the broken, hoarse voice, to make soothing hums that ultimately mean nothing.)

Alfred Pennyworth quietly talks with the funeral director about the arrangements. Of course Master Timothy would want to be laid to rest with his parents, and the family appreciates all the support and ease of process as the deceased was an important part of the Wayne family. 

When he gets a phone call, he firmly verifies the name on the tombstone is Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne Grayson.

**

Exactly four days after the service, the Flash is staring at him helplessly, gripping Nightwing’s arm tight, “please, please, Dick, don’t do this. You can’t think this is the answer!”

He can barely hear Wally with the absolute destruction going on around them, the machine they’d inadvertently stumbled upon (which is a lie, Nightwing had been looking for it and the Flash basically caught him red handed). 

“You know you aren’t going to be able to stop me.” Standing between the glowing portal and Wally, debris from overhead crashing down on them at intervals, Nightwing is at his peak stubborn, “no matter how fast you are.”

“You don’t understand what’s going to happen,” Wally yells desperately as the vacuum starts pulling at Nightwing’s other arm, pulling him into–

–the Speed Force.

“You don’t have the lightning, Dick, you won’t be able to get yourself out, and I won’t have any way of tracking you!”

The small smirk as the machine’s panel starts going haywire, lights blinking and readings off the charts, makes Wally’s heart clench hard in his chest, makes him try to dig in his heels, makes his stomach tremble.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve already done this, Wally. And I’ll do it as many times as it takes until I change everything.”

The pellet Nightwing palmed before the Flash grabbed his hand goes off the same time the machine hits the highest ratings and a low boom is followed up with an intense swirling suction, pulling the heroes closer to the portal’s surface.

The light grenade goes off without a hitch and the Flash has no choice but to let Nightwing go.

**

They’re laughing like assholes as they climb through Timmy’s penthouse windows. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

pause, m | myg | 3

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Life is like a cassette tape. It seems like it’s constantly repeating, flipped from side A to side B, and the songs can’t be skipped. You can only pause, rewind, fast forward, play after you’ve already heard the song. After you’ve already lived it. All Min Yoongi knows is his own tape, until it smashes right at his feet, and then he has to learn to dance to a different beat.

warnings: rated M (18+) - please be warned this story has a physically and verbally abusive relationship; language; gender stereotyping; mentions of therapy; non-idol!AU; music producer!Yoongi x dancing fanatic!reader

rated M because I know how sensitive a topic domestic abuse is.

--

2.

-

Morning. Night.

He wasn’t on the night train.

Morning. Night.

He wasn’t on the night train.

Morning. Night.

You were the only one exiting at the last stop. Running. Running.

Morning. Night.

You hated this replay. This song sucked. This cassette tape sucked. But you kept going, ending all your bad days with dancing, dancing until you wore your own heart out, dancing to sad songs with happy beats, attending your dance party of one. Never had you wished your dance party to be of two.

Never, until now.

Morning. Night.

You were wandering around your neighborhood on your off day, idle and antsy. There was a garage sale happening. You walked over, seeing all the old things. Weird lampshades with no bottom half. Chipped coin banks. A pair of ping-pong paddles with no ping pong ball. Single teacups without the rest of the set. Old VHS tapes that no one had a player for.

Cassettes.

A bunch of cassette tapes, sitting there, spilled out. You tilted your head, picking one out. Love Songs for my Love. It was written in faded pen, a barely legible scribble. You flipped it over, but there was no indication of said songs. Just a Side A and Side B. Did someone make this? Did they use a tape player and record this by playing the songs on scratchy audio?

You suddenly remembered Yoongi’s girlfriend throwing a cassette tape on the subway concrete as she declared she hated him. The thin plastic has shattered, black ribbon flying everywhere.

Did Yoongi make her one?

And she smashed it, just like that?

“Do you want that?”

You started as an old woman indicated the tape in your hand. She was wearing a blue and white floral dress, a bright pink fanny pack at her waist. Her hand held a wad of change bills.

“Uh…” you said, not knowing if you did or not.

“I have a cassette player too.” The old woman tucked a gray hair behind her ear and rummaged around her, producing a silver and brown cassette player. It was huge, nearly the size of your forearm. “Still works. Needs batteries though.” She stated the price.

You walked out of the garage sale with the cassette and the player, wallet lighter.

You went home and played the tape after shoving some batteries into the player. It was full of old, cheesy eighties songs. You didn’t know any of these songs. They were all weird. Some were poorly recorded, cutting off strangely. The speaker was terrible, scratchy and pitching the audio due to its age, not that the audio was very good to begin with.

But you danced to it.

You danced to it.

Danced to these terrible love songs of a different time, of a different couple, not knowing if they were still together or not, not knowing if they were still in love, not knowing if they were even in Korea, but dancing to these retro beats anyway, not caring. Because someone, at one point, tried clumsily to make this for the one that loved, only for it to be sold like cheap candy decades later and you might as well enjoy it, because, hell.

What else was there to enjoy?

Morning.

Night.

You stopped at your doorstep.

Someone was sitting there, wearing a black parka and black sneakers. Black face mask. He raised his head as you stopped. Dark eyes, void of any sparkle. He stood up.

You swallowed. Bowed your head politely.

Opened your door for Min Yoongi.

-

You hadn’t changed the couch all this time. Left everything there, waiting.

Blankets. Pillow. The suitcase of his clothes.

Everything.

Yoongi didn’t say anything.

You went to your room, wordlessly.

In the morning, the blankets were folded neatly and the pillow set on top, as if he was never there.

Pause.

Fast forward.

He would be there one night and then not there several nights. He would stay several nights in a row, but not be there in the morning. Never saying anything. You didn’t say anything. You just went to your bedroom and danced to sad songs with happy beats, door closed, the pressure in your chest unbearable.

Replay. Turn the tape around. Replay. Turn the tape around. Replay.

You wanted to fast forward. You wanted to pause. You wanted to rewind.

But you had to press play.

You had to live the moments.

You had to run as you exited to night train, run and run and run, sometimes finding Yoongi sitting at your doorstep, sometimes finding nothing but air. And it didn’t matter. They were all bad days, ending with you dancing to gloomy songs with upbeat tunes, dancing and dancing until you passed out.

You were stuck.

Stuck in this odd loop of reality.

Trapped in sad lyrics with a happy melody.

-

You talked to your former therapist about it. 

Explained the situation, trying to remember all the details. He was retired already, but as usual he listened patiently and with kindness. He didn't have to. When your therapist retired, he let you know that he meant it when he told you that you could call him any time and he would set aside some of his day to talk with you. You were grateful and never tried to abuse it. Sometimes you would just call and say hello, ask him about his health. Send him cards every once in a while, wishing him well. He had been a great therapist and now he was a good friend.

Those were really, really hard to come by. 

You saw Yoongi once again, sitting in front of your apartment doorstep. Bit your lip seeing his crumpled form wrapped in his black parka. You walked up to him and smiled, but Yoongi didn't look at you. He only stood up and moved out of the way for you to unlock your door. 

Your former therapist's words echoed in your head. 

You need to consider the effect of your kindness, not only on him, but on you. 

You held up your keys and found your hand shaking, missing the keyhole. 

It is up to you how much you want to say. But remember to communicate with empathy. He is a victim and he may not respond rationally because his thought processes have been manipulated and warped.

"I'm sorry."

Yoongi's whisper was very soft, almost inaudible. You wanted to scream, cry, laugh it off, hug him, all at once. Instead, you took a deep breath and put your key in your front door. Turned around and beckoned him warmly into your home. 

"Come in."

Everyone's reality is different. Even if you're sharing moments together, one person might have a completely different way of interpreting and processing events. 

Yoongi stepped into your apartment once more, carefully taking off his shoes. Trying to keep his eyes on the floor. You didn't see any visible bruises on his face, but you could see the bruises to his soul as he timidly walked to the couch.

In life, you get to choose only how you feel about things. You only get to choose your own reaction.

You closed the front door, locked it.

You can't choose for other people. 

You turned around to see Yoongi looking at the pillow, blankets, the little bag of toiletries. The suitcase of his clothes, washed and folded. You kept them on the couch, all this time.

"Yoongi."

He didn't turn his head, but you saw him move his chin slightly to indicate he was listening. 

"This time... this time, before you leave in the morning," you said quietly, gently. "I hope you reconsider. Even if it's only for a second."

Yoongi didn't respond. 

-

The next morning, you didn't know what you would find. The same folded blankets with the pillow on top? The same empty couch?

You went out to the living room. 

Folded blankets. Pillow on top. No Yoongi on the couch. Your heart sank. Okay. It was worth a shot. 

"I told myself this would be the last time."

A familiar raspy, soft voice. You jerked your head to the door. Yoongi was standing there, fully dressed, face mask on, sneakers on his feet. He wasn't looking at you. He was staring at the couch. 

"I told myself I wouldn't take advantage of your kindness anymore."

It's okay, you wanted to blurt, but you hesitated, because was it? Was it okay to watch this all the time, to witness this toxic relationship, and not be able to help because you can't help unless they want to be helped?

"I'm weak."

Yoongi raised his head. He made eye contact with you. And it hurt so much, seeing those eyes and knowing you could do nothing, knowing he was just going to go back because that's all he knew. 

You smiled even though it hurt so, so much to smile.

"You might think you're weak," you said softly. "But you always have a choice, Yoongi. Even if it's a small step. Even if it's something dumb, like taking off your shoes."

You couldn't tell his expression, most of it hidden behind the face mask. You thought of that time, in the convivence superstore, where his fingers had accidentally gotten caught in your sweater and unfurled the yarn, tangling you two together with red string, an awkward, embarrassing moment. Your lips curved a little wider, remembering that time. If anything, at least there was that one precious memory.

Yoongi looked down. 

He placed his hand on the doorknob. 

You closed your eyes, not wanting to watch him go. 

You heard shuffling. Then a presence close to you. Your eyes snapped open. Yoongi's shoes were by the door. You looked up, right in front of you. Yoongi gazed back at you with uncertainty. Then he pulled down the face mask and stepped closer to you. Voice trembling, still so soft. 

"What... what should I do now?"

You couldn't help it. 

You began to cry. 

It all came out, the tears spilling like a broken dam. Yoongi's eyes widened, startled at your sudden reaction. You wrapped your arms around yourself and buried your face in your chest, sobbing ugly tears. You turned away quickly, wiping them away and attempting to talk, but it was impossible. They kept coming. 

Was it happiness? Relief? Stress? Anxiety? The crying racked your entire body. All those weeks, all those days, all those moments. You were just a person. You wanted to say, don't do this to me anymore, but that wasn't a fair thing to say, so you never said it, but, please, please Yoongi, don't do this to me anymore. 

Arms appeared around you, black parka covered arms, and they encircled you, first a tentative hold, then tighter and firmer, steadying your sobs, turning them into sniffles. You realized your sweatshirt sleeves were wet and gross now, covered in snot and tears.

"Thank you."

The whisper behind your head, making you freeze.

"Thank you so, so much."

You didn't want to start crying again. 

You started crying again. 

-

Pause.

Fast forward.

-

Yoongi looked back at you, face full of uncertainty. Black face mask on his chin, squishing his cheeks together. You smiled at him from the waiting room, waving. The doctor’s name was printed clearly on the door. The name of the therapist you had helped Yoongi find. They specialized in domestic violence victims.

“I… I can’t do it.”

He said it softly, but the waiting room was dead silent.

You smiled at him.

“You only have to take one step,” you replied gently. “I’ll be waiting right here.”

Yoongi looked forward again. He took one step. Then another. Then more, walking into the door and closing it behind him.

Pause. Rewind.

You remembered your similar moment. You were by myself at that time, years ago, confused and alone, about to walk into an old man’s office who you thought could do absolutely nothing, but you didn’t know what else to do. You knew there was something wrong with you and you didn’t know what and you knew you needed help. But there was no one to tell you to take a step forward. You were frightened, scared of being alone. Equally scared of being with someone else, which was why you were so boring in every relationship, never putting in any effort, because you were afraid.

The therapist had noticed your hesitance. He stood up and said your name kindly. You snapped to attention, nodding slowly. The old man had smiled, hands crossed in front of his waist.

“You only have to take one step,” he had said. “Just one.”

You looked at the ground.

Took one step.

That seemed too small. Maybe one more.

One more.

One.

More.

You were now in the office, standing in front of the sofa.

The old man had beamed at you proudly.

“You did it.”

Pause. Fast forward.

“You did it.”

Yoongi stepped out of the office. His eyes found yours. “I did.”

You smiled proudly.

“Wanna go buy some bread?” you asked, pointing in the direction of the market plaza next to the clinic. “There’s a bakery nearby. It would be nice to have bread for breakfast, don’t you think?”

Yoongi gave you his little half-smirk. “Yeah, it would.”

-

Reset.

Pause.

Play.

-

“Why do you have that?”

You looked up from your bed to your desk. Yoongi was pointing to the cassette tape player. His face was white, almost tense. His other hand was holding yours. He held it tighter, biting his lip.

“I bought it at a garage sale,” you answered truthfully. Yoongi lowered his hand, not quite looking at you. You continued. “I was walking around the neighborhood and someone was selling their old stuff and I saw some cassettes, so I bought one. The lady upsold me the player too. It was after the first time you…”

You left me.

You felt a painful pluck of your heartstrings, like a guitar strand pulled too tight and producing the wrong sound. Yoongi turned to face you, but you shifted your eyes, taking a deep breath. It’s not his fault. But it had hurt. You couldn’t pretend it didn’t.

You laughed apprehensively. “It was full of eighties love songs anyway. The audio is scratchy and old. The couple probably aren’t even together anymore.”

“That wasn’t that long ago.”

“The eighties were forty years ago, Yoongi.”

Silence. Yoongi was still holding your hand.

“How many times do you think it’s been replayed?” Yoongi murmured.

Your eyes shifted back to the silver and brown tape player. “I don’t know. But I kept playing it.” Your voice was a little choked up now. “I kept playing it until you… until you came back.” And sometimes I think… sometimes I think there might be a chance you’ll leave again. And maybe that was impossible, but you knew better, because impossible things happen all the time and it would be easy to think a person could fully heal, but things like that don’t heal so easily.

You know, because you witnessed it firsthand.

“They’re all terrible,” you said quietly.

Yoongi squeezed your hand. “But you kept replaying them.”

“Yeah.”

He took a deep breath. And then another. You waited. He seemed like he wanted to say something. You rubbed his thumb gently with yours. He kept staring at the cassette player.

“That… was the first gift I gave her.” His dark brown eyes were misty, gazing into the past. “Our hundred-day anniversary. I gave her a cassette of my favorite songs. I thought it was more original than a mix CD or a link to a Spotify playlist.” He looked down, not quite at the floor. “She was so excited and happy. She told me she was going to play it as soon as she got home.”

Silence.

When Yoongi spoke again, there was a quiver of hopelessness.

“I never saw a tape player at her place.”

You saw the pain in his eyes.

“Did she play it even once?”

He shut his eyes, hiding them with his hair. His voice was getting smaller and smaller, almost disappearing.

“And then she smashed it.”

He was clutching your hand so tightly that your fingers felt numb, but you didn’t move away, listening carefully.

“She smashed it so that not even people like you could pick it up years later and listen to it. Smashed it so that not even one person in the whole world could appreciate it.”

“The Yoongi at the time appreciated it,” you said softly.

Yoongi hid his face with his hair.

“The Yoongi back then was a fucking fool,” he sighed.

“It’s not so easy to have a pure feeling.” You placed your other hand on top of his. “Not everyone can feel that way. It’s not fair when someone takes advantage of that.”

He hung his head. “I could have gotten out. I could have been a man and left. But I kept going back. I enabled her. I was just as bad.”

You sighed softly. “You know things like that are easy to say and impossible to do in the moment.”

“Aren’t you mad at me?”

Yoongi lifted his head, looking at you through his bangs. Not wanting to fully show you the pain in those dark brown orbs.

“For going back?”

You shook your head. “No.” Your lips curved into a sad smile. “I watched my dad crawl back over and over. I watched it happen right in front of my eyes.” You exhaled the tenseness from your chest. “He kept thinking that because they had kids he had to come back.” The next breath was rougher, pushing out all your anger. “I think it would have easier if she was my stepmother. But she wasn’t.”

And the fear stabbed through you.

“I keep thinking, what if I’m like her? What if I’m just like her and I don’t know?”

You shut your eyes.

“All of my previous relationships ended because I didn’t invest into them.”

You suddenly let go of Yoongi’s hand, pulling away, but Yoongi held on, held on desperately, interlocking his fingers with yours. You dropped your hand, all strength gone, measuring your breathing, trying to calm yourself down.

“What if…?”

Silence.

“We’ll never know unless we try.”

Pause.

“I can’t ask you to try after what you’ve been through, Yoongi.”

“You don’t have to ask me.”

You opened your eyes and slowly, slowly raised your head. Your eyes connected with his.

“You know you won’t be that way,” Yoongi murmured quietly. “Because you know and can recognize it. You recognized it when… when I saw nothing.”

You held his hand.

Fell back on the bed and the two of you stared at the ceiling, holding hands.

-

You laughed as you exited the train car with Yoongi. At the last stop, stepping out to the harsh streetlights and concrete.

“What do you mean, is that where I got my dance skills? It’s just a music video! They’re supposed to be weird!” you were saying, shouldering your backpack.

“That was bizarre and that’s putting it lightly,” Yoongi chuckled.

He didn’t look at the edge of the train station anymore. He was only looking at you, with his dark brown, cat-like eyes full of sparkle, smirking at you fully now. There was still space between you two at this particular place, this last train stop, but somehow it had gotten smaller. Shrunk. Not because he was shrinking either. He was a smoothed-out piece of paper now, still winkled; the old marks erased but still etched on the page. Not forgotten, but finally able to be written over.

“Get the fuck over here, Yoongi.”

Both of you froze.

Yoongi frowned and looked up. The pressure on your chest returned.

The woman. Yoongi’s girlfriend.

No.

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I told you it was over. It’s still over.”

Ex-girlfriend.

She furrowed her brows, bristling. “You can’t do this to me, Yoongi! I’m the only one who loves you! Me! Or did you forget, you stupid bastard?”

Yoongi paused. He took a deep breath and stared up at the streetlights, up to the sky. For a second, you despaired, thinking he was going to consider it, thinking he was going to walk away from you. Then he let out a puff of air and ticked his head.

“I don’t have anything more to say to you,” he said evenly, not looking at his ex-girlfriend.

Yoongi turned away.

He caught your eye. He wasn’t smiling, but you could tell there was something different this time. Resolve. He nudged your arm with his.

“Wanna race?”

The pressure on your chest lifted suddenly, leaving you breathless.

“What?” you gasped.

Yoongi chuckled. “You’re gonna lose.”

And then he tore off. You started, running after him, the young woman shouting after you two, but neither of you heard, neither of you listening, because you were running, running, chasing after that black parka with indignation, calling his name and him mockingly bellowing yours back, causing you to run faster, faster, smile on your face, tackling him into your front door laughing. Yoongi snickered, stating he won and you chastised him, telling him he cheated as you unlocked the door.

“Your fault for getting distracted.”

“I wasn’t ready!” you flailed, dumping your backpack onto the ground. You took out your phone and accidentally pressed the play button on your music. Your Bluetooth house speakers started blasting quirky guitar, snazzy drums, and twanging bass, ridiculous lyrics singing along. In frustration, you tossed your phone on the couch and began to wiggle your arms, pointing accusingly at Yoongi, as if to say, this isn’t over, but kicking off your shoes and prancing about your apartment, bouncing your shoulders to the beat.

Yoongi shook his head, but you didn’t care, singing on the top of your lungs.

“Don’t know a night without dancing, don’t like the night without dancing…”

“Is that dancing?” Yoongi interrupted, but you just wiggled up and down like a fish out of water, and Yoongi shook his head once more, looking exasperated. You spun, you frolicked, you whipped your hair around until you were lightheaded, not caring about anything, not caring about what Min Yoongi was seeing, because this was your time, your time to shine, your nighttime dance party.

You tripped on the couch and Yoongi darted forward to snatch you from the air. You laughed at your own clumsiness, dizzy from spinning so much, not realizing how close you were to Min Yoongi, not realizing until the song ended and you were staring up at him and he was staring down at you, still in his black parka and face mask squishing his cheeks.

The next song began.

But for some reason you couldn’t brush it off. You couldn’t get up and begin dancing again. You were only looking up into Yoongi’s eyes and he was looking down at you. You were reminded of his face that day in the grocery store, when the red yarn from your sweater unraveled due to the Velcro on his sleeve, reminded of that split second where you were happy and sad at the same time, happy and sad at the idea of red yarn attaching you and Yoongi together.

Happy because it was funny.

Sad because you knew you had to pull away.

Yoongi’s dark eyes looked down at you and he leaned down a little. Stopped.

You raised yourself a little. Stopped.

Pause.

Heart beating fast, so fast. Was it from running? From dancing like an idiot? From staring into Yoongi’s eyes? From being so close to him? From knowing you shouldn’t kiss him, because maybe he wasn’t ready yet, but really, really wanting to?

Yoongi leaned down the same time you rose upward.

Your foreheads knocked together.

“Ow!”

“Motherfuc–”

You swore and he jerked up, rubbing his forehead as you winced, massaging yours. It was a hard hit and you felt woozy from all the emotions and the physical exertion. You grabbed his arm for balance as you stood, and he grabbed yours, grimacing as he rubbed his head.

“Damn, that fucking hurt,” he mumbled.

“Ugh, am I bruised?” you asked, removing your hand.

He squinted. “No?” He leaned forward a little.

You leaned forward too. Stopping just a centimeter away. Yoongi’s eyes widened. You looked into his wide eyes with your wide eyes, waiting. You shouldn’t kiss him, because you didn’t know if he was okay with it, you didn’t know if he was even thinking about it. It was way too early, it was too soon, and you should just back off–

He pressed his lips to yours.

You both stared at each other with unblinking, huge eyes, lips on lips.

You jerked back, sputtering. “Y-You’re making this weird!”

Yoongi pointed to you and all around him. “And this bizarre indie rock isn’t making this weird?”

“D-Don’t blame the music,” you stuttered, fingers on your lips. “You shouldn’t stare like that!”

“You were s-staring back!” he accused.

“F-Fine!”

And then you grabbed his face and kissed him, deeply, fully. You kissed Min Yoongi, kissed his soft lips with your eyes squeezed shut, breathing in his scent and his presence, a presence you never wanted to go away. You didn’t know if it was right or wrong. You didn’t know if this was the start of a wonderful story or the end of a rollercoaster one, but it was yours, your cassette tape with your love songs, and you wanted Yoongi on the playlist, you wanted his song to play on repeat, and he grabbed your arms and pulled you close, kissing you back, murmuring your name, wrapping his arms around you, and you knew you had his song, his song on your cassette to dance to.

Don’t let this beginning end.

-

4. smut.

--

masterpost

[horanghoe]

warm milk & honey - SKZ fic

A/N: I just realised I forgot Han ^ I am screaming

Pairing: OT7/reader

Rating: PG friendly (with a friendly warning of poly / multiple person relationship).

Genre: POLY!SKZ / Fluff / Very slight angst & mentions of bad sleep patterns.

Word Count: 3.6k exactly, my doods

Summary: A restless night, ultimately remedied by your sweet baby man angel boys. Or alternatively: Istg if Jisung makes one more weird noise imma end this man’s whole life no cap, Binnie hold me back -

Back to ~ SKZ Masterlist

Back to ~ Main Masterlist

Special Mentions <3

 @domjaehyun​ for being a yoghurt eating legend that takes a year to respond ASKDJF ILY BICH//

@seowoos​ for inspiring this whole damn thing & helping me feel more comfortable w publishing more niche content models. Even if it’s just cheesy enough for the two of us <3 //

@chocolvte​ for being another OG on this list, n just generally being a sweet bean <3 baby girl ur reactions were the second inspiration to get me INTO SKZ in the first place. ily uwu // 

and lastly, surprise @mikoto-ica-fics​ !! You were the last part of the equation that got me to write smin for these boys. I binged practically all your fics in two nights bby, keep making michellin star fics <3

Tonight wasn’t working out quite as you had expected.

To be honest, it was fucking shit.

Well, the night itself was okay. In terms of activities. An evening in with your boyfriend, Chan.

Just you two versus the world. The poor boy was so tired that honestly, it had only consisted of a walk through the park to grab snacks, and returning to the empty dorm to laze around the whole evening. A Netflix date with some *ahem* late night fun to settle you both into a deep, restful state.

It was brilliant, fantastic. Until it wasn’t.

Until you lay painfully awake in his bed and suffocated in the dark silence and space between you. It wasn’t Chan’s fault; the obnoxious whirring of electronics made your head spin, tiny flashing lights and minute feelings of unease at the cupboard door leaning open; all made it virtually impossible to sleep.

It was too cold. Too hot. You were so comfortable, melted into the mattress. But it was swallowing you and your claustrophobia was starting to make you twitch. Moving off of your angelic boy’s limbs, you shimmied to the cooler side of the bed.

He stirred a little, before settling on turning away, onto his side. Phew. At least you hadn’t woken him. It wasn’t like you were trying to be selfish, but fuck. This was insufferable.

Every time you looked at the clock you were sure it slowed down - balls, at this point it could’ve skipped back an hour and you wouldn’t have batted an eye. Mostly because if they weren’t checking the clock, they were staring dead straight up at the ceiling.

Eh. Ugh. Fuck. I can’t sleep.

That’s all your brain could think. Stuck - monotone and on a never-ending loop.

It seemed like everything you had ever thought was swimming around in your brain like some kind of primordial juice. Feelings and emotions swelling and bloating in your belly until they settled.

And then a car passed outside, and everything started to swell up again.

Chan was on his side, turned away and peacefully gaining some shut-eye. He was only lightly sleeping though, that much you could tell. His body gently lifting, then falling with breath. Like you; he often struggled to sleep deeply, usually not lasting very long when he did manage to.

You were so pissed.

How dare he sleep. And look so good doing it. Even just his bareback looked hot as shit - here you were, a messy, greasy big toe wrestling with your stupid ape brain to shut off the useless brain thoughts, next to this slice of heaven - just, ugh existing so perfectly.

“Oh my god, this is torture.” You cursed quietly into the dead space.

Maybe the frustration was all from hormones?

Nah, fuck that. Feminism and all that jazz. That’s just part of the human condition, babycakes. Happens to the best of us, unfortunately.

No, what it was, was the constant whirring coming from the TV screen and Felix’s PlayStation tower and large monitor. The tiny little flashes, whirrs, huffs from the fan and rotating lights. It was driving you abhorrently insane. FUCK.

“Chan? Channie, baby, are you awake?.” You whispered into the air. His breath faltered a little, stirred mostly by your movement to groan, gruff and flip the duvet off your hot, sticky body. Gentle though you tried to be, it was still enough to wake his fuzzy brain.

“Chan, please. I’m sorry babe but that TV is driving me fucking insane.” Your voice was too alert and frustrated for him not to stir. His heart panged a little at the distress laced in your tone.

“Please, Channie. I’m so sorry…”

He rolled on his back to look at you. Slowly, and with much effort. He groaned softly before wiping his eyes and leaving his arms above his head.

“Hey.” He whispered, warmly smiling.

“Don’t be sorry – can you not sleep again, baby girl?” Chan asked softly, watching you sit stiffly upright. His deep voice made your heart flutter, nodding as he groaned. He smiled despite any resentment you may have allowed him to feel. Resting his warm palm against your rib as he muttered a response - you excused his fumbled words for definition - so tired he was barely able to keep his eyes open.

“You can turn it off, yeah?” Chan sighed.

What he meant was ‘You know how and where to turn it off, without messing up the whole system like last time, right?’. You nodded quickly, squeezing his bicep lightly before slipping from the exposed mattress.

Dashing up to scramble behind the low TV unit and find the one wire to end it all. Your infernal pain that was.

He watched you, letting his eyes rest occasionally. Truth was, you looked so beautiful to him when you were concentrating on something. For example, pulling out the HDMI cord triumphantly. And holding in a small squeal (scream), of relief when the high pitched buzzing cut out with a slight electronic fuzz. He chuckled, not missing your little feet pattering in step with a tiny little victory pump.

“Yes. Fuck. The noise, it’s gone!” Chan chuckled softly, keeping his arm outstretched until you landed beside him. Pulling you toward him, under the covers.

“Yeah, you really got that wire Y/N. Showed it who’s the boss, huh?” His tired enthusiasm outweighed his sarcasm, owning a soft kiss to the cheek as you clambered over the bed, only to flop with a weighted sigh straight down onto his shoulder.

He giggled, smiling with a yawn as he tucked his arm against your ribs, tucking you up against his chest in a bearhug.

You fell asleep quickly; soft breaths and just the presence of Chan's being, enough to satiate the gnawing ache in the back of your brain.

And it was peaceful. Restful. Warm, and so pleasant.

Until it wasn’t.

Turns out tonight wasn’t your night. The clock read 1:28 am – and the boys were due to come home from practice any moment now. To be honest they were pretty late.

Chan had originally had the day off, hence the chance for you to be led here in his arms. But you were starting to think it really hadn’t made that much of a difference.

It wasn’t just the high pitched whirring that had aggravated you, but now the uncomfortable heat radiating from Chan's body. The small whoosh of cool air against your neck at any vehicle that passed by. Or just the evening breeze. You groaned softly, dropping your head back to Chan’s chest with a soft thud, lulling back into a light and unrestful sleep.

Ten minutes or so passed. Waking from a fuzzy dream, you were disorientated. The worst dreams always happened in short little bursts. Like little hellish fever dreams.

The clock now read 1:39 am and the time between minutes was becoming unbearable. Too long to bear . You had to move. Speak. Scream. Cry. Kick. Do something.

Peeling off Chan’s arm, and replacing yourself with a large fluffy pillow, you left your lover to rest. You dread to think that it would be able to replace you, but hey, at least it wouldn’t move like one big fat sweaty ferret, right?

Sigh. Sad times.

You abandoned Chan for the disgustingly bright hallway. Seeking new comforts, from whoever would take you. The boys were home; noises of beings floating down the hall, past Chan’s room.

By the time you had gathered the strength to rise off the bed though – blinking away the stars and excited little lines in your vision and raising enough chi to move your soul, and body upwards off of the bed – an inkling of tiredness was starting to itch into your consciousness.

You ached to be held. Loved.

You weren’t sleepy enough to get back into his bed though. Though; you missed Chan’s body as soon as you had tumbled yourself away from it.

---------

Fetching your favourite fluffy square pillow and putting on one of Chan’s big shirts, you padded out and into the hallway. The door closed behind you with a soft putt, pillow tight against your belly.

The tired but comfortingly loud voices of your other lovers were coming from the kitchen.

You wobbled forward, groaning to yourself as your thighs began to ache. Just from being alive, you guessed. Your thighs tingled your skin into little chilly goosebumps, a shiver sparking down your spine.

Maybe the heat of Chan’s bed wasn’t so bad, you began to consider. Before a voice echoed down to where you were slowly walking from.

“Ya – hold up, I’ll grab my jumper then we can watch that stupid shit-film you were on about earlier?” You heard Jisung shout over the kitchen to the boys gathered on the sofa.

The boys muttered some form of agreement and before you could process it, the firm but soft body of Han Jisung had swung right around the corner and straight into your zombie path.

Being conscious, and not half-dead like you, he was able to stop abruptly in front of you and step back a little. The shock of a body blocking his path was quickly masked with warm love as he cooed at the sight of you.

“Y/n-ieeeeee look at youuuu~” He whispered loudly, wrapping his arms around you to squeeze you firm against his body.

His presence eased you, despite the chaotic energy he may have appeared to have. He was just one big squirrel with muscles. The perfectly-right size to pull you against him, your neck flopping so skin met skin, cheek to shoulder in that white sleeveless shirt of his.

You melted into his caring touch, groaning when he gave a squeeze and actually, not hating how firmly he held you. For a moment, he seemed to be just quietly accepting your unspoken words. Night-long grief expressed in the way you clung to him.

Eventually, he asked the inevitable questions, though.

“Baby, why aren’t you asleep? Hmm, pretty? It’s like, 2 am already!” He exclaimed softly, somewhat conscious of Chan’s sleeping presence down the hall. And your zombie-eardrums.

You couldn’t answer, instead, you let him pull you away so he could peer down at your head against his shoulder. The pillow was a soft barrier between you, though he removed it to place it softly on the floor.

“As cute as you look in Chan’s top right now, baby, this hallway is pretty cold. Gosh damn, your legs are shaking so much. How long have you been standing out here princess? Let’s get you warmed up, yeah?” He squeezed you against him once more - rubbing his warm palms against your trembling, shivering thighs.

As he stood back up you groaned again, reluctant to articulate how badly you just wanted to be softly touched. Not aggressively rubbed. Even if you appreciated the notion, it was cutely awkward. Your expression made him laugh softly, tucking hair behind your ear and placing a kiss on your cheek, head, forehead.

“You okay though? Wanna come sit with us?” You nodded quickly, body flopping into his hold as soon as his arms went to lift you. Your head rested on his shoulder, Jisung’s body dipping to lift you and wrap your knees around his hips. He was such a careful, sweet baby boy.

“Ya – come on you big baby, you. Who do you want to be delivered too for the meantime, huh? I gotta go change out of my gym stuff.”

“Hyunjin-ah... please...” You mumbled airily. Despite how unused your voice was, it was sweet as honey. He smiled, responding with a soft “Sure" before turning back to where he had come from. Heart warmed by the opportunity to care for you, even if for just a moment.

And even though he was a bit sticky – and the thought ‘yuck' registered quickly in your half-conscious brain – you didn’t mind the smell. Or the languid way he carried you.

You nuzzled against his neck, groaning once more as his entrance was announced to the room. A loud “Han Jisung's Special Delivery Service!” was projected, I.N. slipping by with a quick ruffle of your hair before moving to turn down the hall, into his room. The boys looked up at the noise and your entrance into the room, immediately softened by the sight.

You, entirely snuggled against a buoyant Jisung, that held you so carefully against his chest. Messy hair tucked under his chin; your eyes were puffy, sore, and barely open as he came into the centre of the soft-lit room.

“Nawww – cuuuutieeee~” Changbin cooed, Lee Know giggling as Seungmin stepped forward to kiss your cheek, sweetly brushing hairs away from your face. The proximity to Jisung didn’t seem to spook his intimacy.

Your eyes fluttered close from the embrace, Seungmin smiling to himself at his ability to soothe you. Even just a little.

“That’s a funny looking jumper, Ji.” Seungmin quipped, before adding a quick “Hi Y/N.” With a small squeeze of your cheek, before heading toward the kitchen.

“Hyunjin-ah you have a special request delivery here, where shall I put her?” Jisung questioned, approaching the sofa nimbly.

Hyunjin smiled, shuffling a little before holding out his arms, patting his lap.

“Right here~” you heard, before feeling gravity weigh at your back. You got off early, aided by Jisung and Hyunjin’s hands on your hips. Quietly you yawned, turning to a barefaced beautiful boy, smiling at you cutely.

Jisung pecked a kiss on your shoulder before passing, leaving to go sort himself out.

Hyunjin smiled up at you with a coo, pulling you down towards him with his long limbs. With you laying, legs tangled above him he wiggled back so you could lay comfortably on his chest.

He kissed your cheek before tucking your forehead against his chin, your eyes slowly bobbing open and shut as his calm vibe washed over you. Changbin shared some of your weight on the somewhat roomy sofa; kissing your hair softly and curling against you to keep you warm.

The television was on a late-night MC show playing. Though it registered to you as white noise. The boy’s voices over you were soothing, even if they edged a little loud occasionally.

At some point, you had started to drift off again. For the most part, Hyunjin was a gentle giant anyways. So despite his resistance to skinship, your body (and some of the boys), was never left out in terms of body-pillow-comforts.

Meaning, he treated your limbs like a very bony pillow he could encapsulate entirely.

You weren’t sure where the others were. Or what part of the sofa you were even on. You figured the end since the guys had their feet up. But you didn’t mind. It was safe. Here, in their arms. Against their bodies.

Even the bright overhead lights of the kitchen and hallway weren’t enough to stop you lulling into sleep.

At a later point, you awoke again with a startle – Jisung shushing your tired whines with a kiss as he jumped onto the sofa to your left, a little too enthusiastically. Hyunjin moaned like a brat, ultimately having a play fight underneath you until you mustered up a death stare to end all squabbles, ever. Period. Jisung settled, intertwining your fingers on Hyunjin’s belly until your breath softened. Falling into a weak slumber once more.

Once again; your sleep was great. Perfect. Until it wasn’t.

An abrupt jostle of Hyunjin jolting to stop spilling the food he held above your head, was met with an unattractive grunt of pure disgust on your part. Eyes squinted, head wrinkled and body tense, you were once again awake.

“Sorry baby! I didn’t mean to wake you!” Hyunjin whined, too loudly next to your throbbing head. Changbin noticed your tense limbs and pulled you backwards against his chest. This merely caused another squabble to ensue between them - who held the right to hold you, like a fluffy comfort blank.

Suddenly everything was bothering you again.

Their constant jostling and boyish movements were just too much. You pulled up from Changbin. Avoiding the tugging, whining, needy arms and hands from Hyunjin to stand weakly once more.

Frustrated. Tired. And all coupled with a reasonably ugly scowl weeping over your face.

They were so engrossed in their silly little arguments, little kicks, punches and teasing laughter, that they barely even noticed your sluggish movements to get up.

Until you were on your feet. Your body heat sapped from them in a bitter attempt at being sour. Hyunjins hands immediately flew out to steady you. Changbin pouting but ultimately letting you retreat once more.

“Y/Nieeee~ Come baaack, I didn’t mean it. Come lay back down, baby~” Hyunjin whined warily, the other two boys still giggling amongst themselves. You swatted against the tiredness on your face, grumbling before stumbling backwards.

You made it a few steps before you folded over on impact at hitting the kitchen table. The table thudded on impact and the boys winced, watching your face scrunch up in pain immediately.

A new pair of hands caught you this time, stuttering before lean arms caught you.

“Woah! Careful there pretty girl, nearly took the whole bloody table out. You okay?”

Felix's. Soft, caring and most importantly soft voice and calm motions of support waved over you in a way that gave you immediate comfort. You rested your head against his chest as he tugged you up, body slumping into him with an inaudible impact. He giggled, despite your weighted movements, speaking lowly with that deep, tired voice of his.

“Y/N, you silly sausage, are you alright?” He prompted quietly, leaning his head down to capture your whines and huffs of pain.

“Owww, my butt… That hurt~” You groaned, not minding his giggles but sending a puffy glare to the others snickering away on the sofa.

The table (or your idiot bulldozer body), had set a deep ache right into the cheek of your butt. Your hand kneaded it gently before Felix’s hand quickly replaced yours, rubbing and squeezing softly until your face scrunched, the pain subsiding.

“Ouch.” You whispered, peering up at him with a pout. He kissed your nose cutely with a little eruption of giggles, helping you crack a pouty smile.

“Come on, cutie.” He mumbled before grabbing your hand to guide you slowly into the kitchen. “I could kiss it better?” He prompted, ultimately softening at your lack of response. You were so morgue-ish you hadn’t even registered his words. Letting him tug you blindly as your eyes struggled to stay open.

You could barely register his hands, pressing at your waist. Weakly managing to hold on as he lifted you on top of the counter. Squinting, you could see the clock read 2:23 (am) on the cooker. Ugh. What a night.

You’d feel shit in the morning. But that was nearly impossible to think about with the way Felix was holding you right now. Like a baby. Or a puppy. A little ball of fluff.

He kept some form of contact as he moved around you – a hand to the knee or his hip between your legs. Or even lips against your hairline, using the counter space around you to do something. What he was doing, you were tired to even care.

“You know what used to help me Y/N? When I couldn’t sleep at night?” He prompted gently. You shook your head, pulling back with a weak sway

“Warm milk and honey!” He exclaimed quietly. Too cute for his own good. You smiled, and he pulled you against his chest to kiss your cheek and giggle delicately.

“You want some? Then we could try to sleep? You look like you need some shut-eye, baby. Don’t wanna miss out on that beauty sleep! If you want - we can always sleep in – just call in sick? Your boss is honestly so nice, I'm sure she won’t mind. You say you’re always working through lunch breaks anyway?”

Despite his rambling, you just nodded. Tired eyes once again resting as the hum of the radiator, the vibration of his chest eased your brain. Your head tucked so right underneath his chin. His palms folded behind your lower back.

At some point, Changbin had appeared. Sweeping a thumb over your forehead before kissing you sweetly, cheek resting on Felix’s shoulder.

“I love you, princess. Sorry for waking you.” He had whispered against your lips. “Mmm-I-love-you-too-Binnie~” You managed in one tumbling sentence. In fairness, the touch would've probably led you both somewhere (the bedroom), if you weren’t in such a zombie-like state.

“Sure thing, pretty.” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your puffy cheeks before retreating. He let you both be, cold marble beneath your thighs now warmed by your constant body heat. You passed out pretty quickly against Felix’s chest. Cocooned, safe.

What you did miss in your deep, deep sleep was the way they carried you.

Felix physically, to their shared room. Changbin carrying your drinks and fetching your favourite pillow from the hall.

And what you heavenly missed in the night; they made up to you in the morning.

And the next night. And the night after that.

Because even though you occasionally suffered restless nights, you knew one of them would always be there to catch you.

And you’d do the same for them.

P.S. Fuck Chan’s wiring system. Extension cables were the bane of your nightly living. *holds up fingers in a cross and hisses*

well would you look at that: updated 03/OCTOBER/2021

[1kook]

commercial break ; THREE

this is a netflix & chill drabble kook’s pov during their argument in d&b !

summary; But Jungkook loves the sun. warnings; post-fight, drinking, heart ache :( miscellaneous; everyone say thank u kim namjoon 🤩 word count; 1.5k

notes; a lot of people wanted to know his thoughts during the iconic d&b fight scene so here’s the closure we all needed </3 

He knows he’s said the wrong thing the second the last syllable departs from his lips.

Jungkook doesn’t mean it, that much he knows right away, but even still… there’s a silent moment of shock between the two of you, one where even he is surprised by his own tongue.

You move first, phone whipping across the room.

Now Jungkook has seen a lot of scary things in his life. He’s seen horror movies and walked through a cemetery at night once. He’s come home way past curfew and had to face the wrath of his normally lenient father. He’s sat front row in his first ever college seminar. Yet none of that fear, that anxiety, that dread, compares to the level of emotion he feels wrap around his throat the moment you get up.

“___, wait,” he calls out frantically, hands shaking the further and further you get. He has to tell you he doesn’t mean it, that he would never mean it. But how do you follow up a statement like that? Even when he catches your eyes, beautiful irises colder than the bottom of the ocean, he doesn’t know what to say. He stutters through an excuse he wouldn’t have believed himself and watches you slip further away.

Jungkook can’t let you leave, not when you’re so hurt and he’s so confused, but what else can he say? He doesn’t know, and when you angrily send him back inside he feels every bit the scolded child. Funny how that works.

He calls and calls until he realizes the muted hum from upstairs is the phone you left behind. He’s crazy and in love, desperately scouring through your social media accounts for a sign you’re safe and home. (You were on Twitter three minutes ago, so that’s a relief.) But even then he can’t relax, turning his own words over and over in his head.

Jungkook values a lot of things in your relationship. There’s a beautiful understanding that comes with being in love, a new sense of comfort he’d never felt before. You make him feel warm and in love, keep him grounded when the world threatens to swallow him beneath its surface. You care for him and he for you.

Where those thoughts had come from, he didn’t know. All he knew was that one minute you were picking at the edges of his patience, and the next he was shooting a dagger into your chest.

Self-reflection, Namjoon had always said, the key point to understanding oneself. Usually, that’s followed by some tips on yoga, on calming the mind, but his leg won’t stop bouncing and there’s a boa constrictor wrapped around his throat so that zen mentality will have to wait for now. A harsh exhale, foot thumping against the floor.

Carefully, he unscrambles his thoughts.

There were times you were childish and, for the most part, Jungkook didn’t mind. You brought out the most beautiful things in life with just your laughter alone. You roped him into doing things he never could enjoy growing up, which made him rekindle his love for old hobbies. If sunshine was a person, Jungkook is sure it was you.

You were bright and ever-burning, always with a mission in your head, even if it was something as small as cleaning your windows that day. A star, he thinks, except your smile alone garners the power of ten supernovas combined. The amount of joy and euphoria you’ve brought him this past year was immeasurable. You made him smile, even when you were tired, rising every morning and setting every night dutifully just like the sun.

But too much sunshine could be hot, scorching even.

His mom had mentioned it once, very early into your relationship, how you were a little too childish for Jungkook. He had angrily defended you, stormed out of his parents' house like he was ready to leave them all for you. (Would he? He likes to think so.) But a mother’s advice always haunted one the most.

Yes, your youthful outlook made his life colorful and bright, but there were times he found himself wondering what it would be like to have someone… not as outgoing.

Someone plain and always collected. Someone who would gently remind him of his deadlines, and watch all his favorite documentaries with him. Someone like him, he supposed, who matched his interests perfectly.

It sounds awfully boring.

It sounds terrible to be damned to such a dull life, especially now that he’s had a taste of you. You, who brings laughter and sunshine everywhere you go, his amazing other half. He’d hate it if you always did what he wanted— he loves when you pick at everything he likes because you let him do it back! Jungkook’s head was a never-ending spiral— that much he’s known from a young age. But with you in his life, it became fun and exhilarating. Gone was the dark tunnel and in its place was a twisty slide with loops and turns that defied all laws of gravity. It wasn’t a scary place anymore and it was all because of you.

You, who he might possibly lose forever. His own negligence was to thank, an inability to voice small issues until they piled up and became this big, warped monster that no longer pertained to his original frustrations. It was an ugly thing, so twisted and vile, taking the thoughts he seldom had and weaponizing them against you.

Was that it? Had those mindless thoughts been the root of today’s brash decisions. Jungkook wants to blame it on that, but part of him knows it’s his own inability to share his feelings that led to that spontaneous outburst. There were obviously some things he still needed to work on, but pinning it all on you, his dazzling ray in the sky, was the worst move he could have made. Self-reflection, he repeats to himself.

His heart is still pounding in his ears, drumming obnoxiously loud as if it wants to torture him for his actions. His phone rings across the room and Jungkook lunges for it, hoping and praying it’s you.

It’s not.

It’s just Namjoon calling to wish the two of you a happy anniversary. “You two having fun?” he teases before Jungkook can get so much as a greeting in.

“Hyung,” he chokes out hoarsely, glancing down at the ground. “I-I said something to ___,” he whispers even though there is no one here to hide from but his own crippling thoughts. “And I don’t think she’s coming back.”

His voice cracks a little. He hides it with a gulp so dry it hurts. “What?” Namjoon asks. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook sighs, running a hand over his eyes. “Are you busy right now?”

—

“You need to go to bed,” Namjoon tells him, ambling the two of them up the stairs. Jungkook snorts, sliding against the entire wall on the way up.

“I refuse,” he announces. He has to pause on the next step because he’s pretty sure there’s about four of the same step whirling before his eyes. Beside him, Namjoon sighs. “Hyung, I can’t see.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes, deciding the stairs are too much of a hassle and guiding them back to the living room instead. “Couch,” he informs him before rather carelessly dumping him onto it. “Listen,” he begins, crouching down beside Jungkook. “It’s like, 4 AM… and I have work tomorrow. So I’m going to leave,” he says, slowly pointing in the direction of outside. Jungkook nods, even though Namjoon is definitely pointing upside-down backward. “Okay, JK?”

“That’s me,” he agrees, letting his head slump back against a throw pillow. Namjoon groans.

“That is you,” he concedes. “And you need to sober up before you try talking to ___ again.”

The mere mention of your name turns a switch on inside him. “Can’t,” he whines, features twisting up together. “She hates me. Will cut my balls off.”

Namjoon goes to protest but eventually stops himself. “Yeah, well. Probably.” Jungkook wails at his friend’s poor attempt at consoling him. “Sleep a little and then head over to hers, okay?” He pats him on the cheek once before finally making his exit.

Jungkook can’t believe this. How embarrassing. If you saw him right now, you’d clown him for getting this drunk off wine. But he truly understands it now. It was the devil’s drink, so sweet and cooling only to suddenly slap him across the face with his own insobriety. Oh, his head was going to ache badly later.

Well, that was a problem for later’s Jungkook, he decides as he slinks off the couch and back into the kitchen. There’s a new box of cherry vodka he’d bought just for tonight—or last night, technically—because he knows it’s your favorite. And well. He misses you so much he’ll do anything to feel close to you again.

He’s not sure how long he sits on the floor, swing after swing going down his throat until he’s got three extra fingers and a new middle name. Just that when the sun finally filters through, so warm and bright, he finds himself missing you again. His feet take him out the door before he can think twice.

The morning rays bring with them a wicked headache that almost has Jungkook throwing up into his bushes. Part of him, the last droplet of reason, tells him he should change. He’s wearing the same clothes from yesterday and they reek. Furthermore, the sun is hellbent on soaking up every inch of his black clothing.  

He should change if he doesn’t want to suffocate in this heat, under this blazing sun in the sky.

But Jungkook loves the sun.

He walks on.

—

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[possiamo-andare]

Midsummer: JJ Maybank

JJ x Reader

word count: around 6k

MASTERLIST

a/n: took a long time writing this and I've never done anything like this (where its y/n) so any feedback would be greatly appreciated <3

~

You had never technically been to the Midsummer festival. Of course, since you were a Kook, your parents were invited and tried to make you go but every year came a new excuse. First, you had the "stomach flu." Then, there was that time you said you had "strep throat." Another time, you had a "fever." You had so many excuses for not going to Midsummer every year, you had become a pro at lying.

Only this time, you had an actual reason not to go and, out of all the times, your parents didn't believe you.

You had told them the truth. You and Rafe had just gotten into a huge argument and had technically broken up. It wasn't official or anything but you both knew it was the end. You wanted to stay home and binge watch 'New Girl' from the beginning and maybe order some food. You just wanted to indulge yourself for a moment. You had lost 170 pounds (aka Rafe) and you kinda wanted to celebrate.

Rafe loved keeping up appearances and you were just another way to do that. You were the "perfect" girl next door. You surfed, played soccer during the school year, and it helped that your parents were loaded. You and Rafe looked like a great couple on the outside, but the reality was you were both broken in one way or another. You were struggling with your mundane life, finding every day one endless loop. You were desperate to break free but didn't know how. Rafe was struggling with addiction and wouldn't admit to you that he had a problem.

Finally, you were at your breaking point. This morning, while you still had the courage, you started to talk to Rafe about getting help. You had kept this secret for him for too long and keeping it any longer wouldn't help anyone. Rafe, as you expected, flew off the handle and said the most horrible stuff. He called you a bitch, a slut, and basically every thing that could hurt a person. And you took it because that's what you always did. Then he said something that you couldn't forgive.

You're gonna die alone.

All of those words before never hurt as much as this one. You think it hurts the most because there's a possibility that it's true. You have never had an honest conversation with anyone in your life, including Rafe. You let people in, but not all the way. You were scared to get hurt, but even more scared to die alone. Rafe knew that.

So, you told him you're done and then left. No, you're here, talking to your parents and telling them you couldn't go because you had broken up with Rafe.

"I just don't understand what happened. Rafe is such a nice young man." Your mother said, going through her jewelry box to find the right earrings to match the dress that was laying across her bed.

The Midsummer party was not to start until the sun set in about three hours but your mom loved getting ready early and this party was no exception.

"I just don't want to go. Rafe is escorting me and I don't wanna put on a smile and pretend like everything's okay when it's not."

You didn't understand your mother sometimes. She was fine with letting you stay home from the party for years now as long as there was a physical reason like a cold. Now that you're telling her it's a mental reason, she could care less. You watched her by the frame of her bedroom door. She continued to look in her jewelry box and not for one second check on you.

"It's just for tonight sweetie." She smiled, but not at you.

At first you thought it was directed at you even though she wasn't looking at you. Then you realized she had found the matching earrings and that's why she was smiling. She held them up to her ears and looked in the mirror for a second.

You wondered if she remembered she had a daughter. It felt like she didn't remember sometimes.

You couldn't change her mind. You knew this now. She was picking out her jewelry and accessories now and the room for anything other than the talk of jewelry and makeup was not interesting to her. You decided to cave, not wanting to plead your case again.

So, you returned to your room and called the only person that ever listened to you. Your best friend, Sarah Cameron. She had recently met a Pogue named John B. and also didn't want to go to the Midsummer party where Topper, her soon-to-be ex boyfriend, was escorting her. She had planned to break up with Topper to be with John B. but hadn't gotten the chance yet. Although she wanted to end things with Topper, she didn't want to cause any drama and breaking up with him at the Midsummer party was definitely not a good way to avoid drama.

Sarah understood. She always did.

"Hey girlie." Sarah chimed as she answered the phone.

You instantly smiled, sitting down on your bed. "Hey."

You could basically hear the frown in Sarah's voice as she spoke. "What's wrong? Did Rafe text you?"

You hummed a no. Just hearing Sarah's voice made you feel better. "I tried to tell my mom I don't feel like going but she refuses to listen."

Sarah sighed. "I'm sorry Y/N. I'll look after you tonight. Make sure Rafe doesn't talk to you. He'll escort you to the party and then that's all you'll see from him. I promise."

You chuckled. "And who is gonna make sure Topper stays away from you as you go meet up with your new boyfriend?"

"Ah, my friend," Sarah chides. "That's where you come in. We'll help each other out tonight."

You laugh, the plan sounding ridiculous but it made enough sense to actually work. "Okay, I'll see you then."

"See you there sister." sang Sarah, hanging up the phone soon after.

After you put your phone down to charge, you decided to take a shower and start getting ready for the Midsummer party. You showered quickly, scrubbing your hair so that it wouldn't smell, as your mother says, "like the sea."

After you got out, you washed you face with a cleanser and towel dried your hair. You then brushed your teeth for the second time today and popped in a mint. You put your hair up in a bun while it was still wet so it could dry on it's own. That's when you picked out your dress. Your mom had bought it for you a week ago and it had been collecting dust in your closet ever since. You laid it out on your bed and finally got a proper look at it.

It was a yellow, spaghetti strap dress that fell to your ankles. It was made out of silk and shined even with your bedroom light. When you had tried it on, your remembered how tight it was on the bodice and how it dainty it looked on you. You did like it and it made you feel like a princess, you just wished you didn't have to wear it for the Midsummer party.

You started your makeup first. You applied a tinted moisturizer to give yourself a natural glow and then applied some concealer to lighten your under eyes. Once ever was evenly applied, you filled in your brows and brushed them back and applied some mascara. You added blush and some highlighter to give you a brighter glow. You finally finished off the look with a nude lip.

You let your hair down and it was stil damp. In an attempt to get your hair to dry faster, you got a blow dryer and dried the rest of your hair. Once it was all dry, you brushed it through once and let it stay down. It had turned out nice, the natural curls in your hair giving you the volume you needed. Why change something that already looked so good.

With your makeup and hair done, you finally got changed into your dress. Once it was own, you gave yourself a proper look in the mirror.

You did look beautiful. You had to admit, when you put effort in, you cleaned up well. Although you liked how you turned out, your heart still hurt. Not because of Rafe, but because you can't imagine doing this every year for the rest of your life. Your parents were always okay with doing the same things everyday. You weren't. You wanted to go out on adventures and experience all life had to offer. You wanted to travel by yourself. You wanted to have something different to do everyday. This mundane life you saw your parents do was not for you but you were scared if you lived any more days like this, it was going to be your future. That's what scared you the most. Not being able to get out of the bubble your parents and your life as a Kook put you in. It's one of the reasons you envied the Pogues. Sure they might not have as much money but they had adventures and didn't lead a mundane life. Everyday was different. You sometimes wished you were a Pogue.

You slipped on your heels and looked into the mirror one last time. You looked good but still couldn't smile fully. You didn't hate how you looked, you hated the person looking back.

You didn't know if that ever would change.

~

Sarah always looked beautiful and you hated it. Even on days when she woke up, hung over with bed head, she just had to smile and she'd look beautiful.

When you entered Sarah's house, she was waiting for you in her bedroom. Her dad, Ward, told you where she was and you basically rushed upstairs. You hadn't seen her in two days since before she went on an adventure with John B. and you needed to know all the juicy details.

Now, as you looked at her in that perfect white dress, you didn't feel self conscious, but you certainly felt like you had to change.

"Holy hell." Sarah said as she stood up from her bed. "You look so sexy."

You rushed to her and hugged her for a moment before saying anything. "I look sexy? Look at you. You look like an angel."

Sarah laughed, grabbing your hand and squeezing it. "How are you doing?"

You shrugged. There wasn't much to say. You weren't really torn up over the situation. "I'm fine. We both knew it was coming."

Sarah laughed. "You should've seen my brother. He was totally freaking out when he called Topper."

You frowned. "Sorry. I know he's your brother."

Sarah waved her hands in the hair. "Are you kidding me? Someone needed to knock Rafe down a few pegs. I'm glad you guys are done. He doesn't deserve you."

You hugged Sarah again. She really was the most important person in your life right now. You didn't know how you got so lucky.

"Speaking of which, are Topper and Rafe here?"

Sarah sighed and nodded. "Waiting for us downstairs to escort us to the Midsummer party."

You rolled my eyes, grabbing onto Sarah's hand again. "Ugh. We can't just keep them waiting."

Sarah smirked, playing along with your sarcasm. "God forbid."

As you guys made your way downstairs, you talked. You knew you couldn't ask her all the details right now but you made sure to let her know that once you were alone, you'd pressure her to tell you all the information. You had seen John B. and his friends around OBX but had rarely talked. The only time you ever encountered each other was when you and Sarah slept on the boat overnight and John B. had come in the early morning to drop off the scuba gear. They seemed to not get along at all so you still wonder what changed.

"Just one question?" You pleaded as you and Sarah made your way to the sliding glass doors, leading you to the backyard where the party was taking place. The sun was setting now and the party would be starting any minute.

"Fine, shoot." Sarah nodded, whispering to you now since Topper and Rafe could see you and Sarah now.

"Is he a good kisser or not?" You leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"What are you beautiful ladies whispering about?" Topper asks as he approaches you and Sarah. You instantly pull away, acting very suspicious.

"How to please a woman. Not that you would know." You smirk at Topper, being very mean. For good reason though. He had made Sarah feel very bad about not sleeping with him and you were glad she had moved on. Now, hopefully Topper would too.

Topper rolled his eyes. "Hello Y/N. How are you?" You know he's only being so nice to try and impress Sarah and show her he's changed. Of course Sarah doesn't buy it.

"I'm spectacular." You gave Topper a wide smile. Maybe if you stared at him long enough, his head would explode.

"Good." Topper grumbled, looking at Sarah. "You look amazing."

Sarah frowned. "Yeah, thanks." She seemed so unenthusiastic it was almost funny.

Topper extended out his hand, ready for Sarah to take it. Sarah looked at you and tried to smile but you could see her discontent. Sarah unwilllingly reached for it and smiled again at Topper.

Here's the thing; if you have to smile so much at everyone all the time, you're probably not happy.

Just as Sarah and Topper move away, Sarah stops, tells Topper to wait one moment and turns around to you. She smiles, for real this time, and says, "To answer your question; yeah, really well."

You giggle, trying to make sure Topper does not ask too many questions. That smile that you had, though, is now replaced with a frown.

You can see him lurking near the door, finding the courage to come up to me.

God, I wished he would just leave me alone, you thought.

You decide against confronting him and instead walk to Sarah's kitchen to grab some water. The doors to Sarah's backyard can be seen if you stood in Sarah's kitchen so you can see Sarah walk out with Topper, smiling and waving. People who don't know Sarah well won't know the difference but you do. Her shoulders are slightly droopy and her smile is not as wide as it usually is.

You watch her quickly depart from Topper soon after he's escorted her around and you can see Topper stay behind, a little shocked she's gone. You don't know why he is, but that's the thing with guys like him. They never think they're the problem.

Speaking of problems, Rafe has followed you into the kitchen and is just standing there. You pretend not to see him. Maybe if you ignore him, you thought, he'll take the hint and walk away.

Of course, he doesn't and as you try to walk past him, he stops you from leaving the kitchen. He's standing in front of you. So, you move to the right and he follows, blocking you again.

"Can we talk?" He asks, reaching out for your hand.

You move my hand out of the way. "Don't touch me."

"Y/N..." He's looking at you with those puppy dog eyes and granted it would've worked at one point but not anymore.

"No." You say sternly. "This is what's gonna hapen: you're gonna escort me out and after that we'll never talk again."

Rafe frowns even harder. "I don't want that. I said things I shouldn't have but -"

"No." You cut him off. "There's no more excuses. We're done."

Rafe's brows crease together. You can tell he's pissed now. "No. You're not giving up on us."

You scoffed, his confidence misplaced. "Trust me, you gave up a long time ago." You then grab onto his elbow, surprising him a little. You could tell he was confused and so you rolled your eyes and then spoke again, "you're escorting me."

Rafe's eyes widened and quickly nodded, guiding you to the glass doors. As you walked, you felt a weight lifted. It had been a long time for you to admit this but you wer glad you guys were over. Your relationship was not aware near perfect and very toxic. The weight lifting, you realized, was definitely Rafe's link to your life.

As the doors opened, you put on a smile and stared waving. You looked around and smiled at your family and friends but you were looking for Sarah. You saw your mother, who was clapping and had a proud smile on her lips. She gave you a thumbs up but you looked away. Could she seriously be any more annoying?

Finally, you spotted Sarah near table. She was looking at you and clapping. You could tell from her facial features that she was being sarcastic. You stuck your tongue out quickly as you walked and waved and she quickly flipped you off.

Once you were done, Rafe let go of you. You turned to him and gave him a half smile.

He did not smile back. "I'm sorry."

Your smile dropped. "Are you?"

And with that, you walked away. Once you got to Sarah's table, she was already standing you give you a hug. You hugged her tightly, sighing as you did. It was finally over. You never had to speak to him again.

"How are you feeling?" Sarah asks, the boh of you sitting down at the table beside each other.

You shrugged. "Surprisingly, I'm good."

Sarah smiled. "It's cause you know it's for the best."

You nodded. You hoped so. "You want a drink?"

Sarah nodded. "Thanks so much."

You got up and went to find a waiter. There were so many around you but each one was speaking to someone and you didn't want to bother them. It took a little of a walk but you finally saw a blond boy in a waiter's suit, standing there. He seemed to be doing nothing so you approached him.

"Excuse me." You said politely, causing the blond boy to turn around. You knew who it was.

JJ Maybank. A Pogue. Specifically, one of John B.'s friends. More specifically, the guy who pulled a gun out on Topper. You were there and saw it all. He had never liked him. Although you hated Topper as much as the next sane person, he didn't deserve that.

JJ looked at you, up and down. He then smirked and crossed his arms over his shoulders. "Yes princess?"

You scoffed. "Not happening. I need a ginger ale and Sprite."

JJ scoffed back, imitating you. "A 'please sir' would help. Or do you Kooks not know how to say please?"

You glared at him. "I know how to say please to people who deserve it."

"And I don't?" JJ asked, bemused.

"No." You said coldly.

"You don't even know me."

"I know the type." You retorted.

JJ grabbed ahold of his chest, faking being wounded. "Wow, that stings Y/N."

You rolled your eyes, ignoring the fact he knew your name. "You don't need me to explain it to you?"

JJ nodded, a smirk adorning his lips. "I really do, miss."

So you did. "I've heard stories about you JJ. You pulled a gun out on Topper, use girls left and right, and get into trouble with the law for fun. Trust me, I don't wanna get to know you."

JJ frowned, maybe for real this time. "Ever heard of don't judge a book by the Kook's stories?"

You tried to suppress a laugh. "Just get me those drinks."

JJ nodded at you and then you turned away and made your way back to Sarah. To be honest, he wasn't anything like Rafe had said. Yes, you had been there the night he pulled the gun but he was completely different now. He had a personality. He was more than a meathead Pogue like Rafe had said. Maybe you should stop listening to what Rafe and try to decide for yourself who JJ was.

When you returned to you table beside Sarah, the drinks where already there. You were confused. How did he get there before you?

"Took you long enough." Sarah joked as she sipped on her drink.

"Sorry." You sat down, confused. You looked at your drink, then at Sarah. "Who brought them here?"

She shrugged. "Some girl. She said that you had told her to hurry up. What did you say?"

You looked around for JJ. Finally, when your eyes found him, he was already looking at you. He smiled and gave you a small wave before walking away.

You smiled. You wanted to tell Sarah what happened and why JJ had made such an impression on you but you didn't get a chance.

Suddenly music came from the dance floor that had been decorated for this party. You looked to the dance floor were people had stared dancing and then you looked back to Sarah.

"Can for a dance?" You extended you hand out to her.

Sarah smirked. "Of course."

And so, as the sky turned to dark, you two danced.

~

You had been consecutively dancing for about an hour and your feet ached. You were wearing heels and although you were skilled in the art of wearing heels, you were completely overwhelmed by the aching. You had to stop.

You looked to Sarah, who was holding onto both of your hands as she swayed to the music. You smirked at her. She was a terrible dancer but her confidence made her seem like the best dancer ever.

Once you stopped moving in the middle of the song, Sarah noticed almost instantly and stopped along with you. She looked at you face and instantly knew.

She frowned. "Just until the end of this song."

You sighed, easily swayed when the music was so good. You nodded, swaying to the music again. Sarah picked up where she left off and you both smiled again. The song seemed to be in the middle so you only had to wait a few minutes. You trudged along, the soles of your feet aching so badly you chewed on the inside of your cheek to distract yourself.

"Hey, if you need to stop me can -" Sarah was about to stop but she was cut off by a tap on her shoulder.

A blond boy you now knew as JJ, danced beside Sarah. "Val?"

You frowned. Maybe he thought she was someone else and you thought that was true when you saw Sarah's face, who was confused for a moment.

"JJ?" She questioned and your eyes widened.

"What do you want?" You ask defensively. You wanted to keep up the impression you were still cautious around him.

JJ looks to you and perks up a little. You do the opposite. The other side of his face is badly bruised. You hadn't seen it before because of the darkness before, but now it was all you could see. It looks like he got punched over and over again. You suspected he probably got into another stupid fight. You almost felt sorry for him. The only way to boost his ego was for him to punch someone.

"Well, hello m'lady." He said, bowing.

You took a step back, bemused. As he bowed, he extended his hand for you to take. To indulge him, you grabbed it and he then stood up straight and pulled you close. One had rested, surprisingly, respectfully on your back and the other intertwined with your hand. You looked to Sarah, who was laughing. Your hand rested on his shoulder as you tried to contain your laughter.

"Madam, who you be so kind to get a note for Sarah out of my pocket for me?" JJ asked, swaying with you to the music.

You pulled away only enough to look at him the eyes. "Can't you do that yourself?"

He smirked. "Yes but I'd have to take my hand off your back and I don't wanna do that."

You rolled your eyes, swaying with him. Although he was a tad annoying, it was a comforting type of annoying. Your past presumptions of him yelled to you in your head about the gun and the fights but you quieted them. For this moment, he was being nice and you would look the other way. Maybe you had been wrong.

You nodded to him and reached to the back pocket on his pants and pulled out a note, handing it to Sarah.

Your hand soon returned to his shoulder as he smiled. "Thanks."

"Were you flexing your ass?" You laughed, shaking your head. You were embarrassed. Never had you done that but you couldn't help but laugh. JJ was one weird guy.

"Trying to impress you." He smirked, making you laugh. He then looked to Sarah and nodded at her. She was blushing so hard, and you were about to ask her what happened but she was already running off.

You looked to JJ. "What's going on?"

JJ leaned towards your ear as you swayed. You felt his lips touch your ear and you shivered. "She's meeting JB."

You smiled at JJ as he looked back at you. "I see. Star crossed lovers."

JJ shrugged his shoulders. "Didn't see the appeal of macking with a Kook but now," JJ says, looking you up and down. "I see the appeal."

You gasped and laughed, embarrassed again. "I'll slap you, I swear."

JJ smirked. "Please do."

You rolled you eyes. The next song had already started but you continued to dance. Your feet hurt no longer. "And why shouldn't I just smack you right now?"

JJ smirked. "Because I'm about to dip you and if you slapped me, I would drop you."

You shrugged. "Good enough."

And with that, he dipped you. You leaned your head back as he did and you felt the pressure of his hands on your back. You felt so secure. You knew he'd never drop you.

Once you came back up and looked at him again, you spoke. "I'm sorry for earlier."

JJ smiled. "Are you kidding? Probably the sexiest thing that's ever happened to me."

You rolled your eyes. "Really?"

JJ shrugged, continuing to sway. You had never felt like this. It felt as if you and JJ were the only two people on his dance floor. Not even with Rafe. This feeling was new and you didn't think you'd feel it with JJ. Someone who, before today, you never would've wanted to spend time with.

"So," he started as you continued to dance. "Have I impressed you?"

Before you could answer, you were pulled apart by two hands you recognized immediately. It was Rafe. Topper was right behind him, ready to fight. But this fight wasn't fair. It was two against one. How would JJ ever stand a chance?

"Rafe -" You started but Rafe silenced you by speaking over you to JJ.

"What're you doing dancing with my girlfriend?"

"Actually ex girlfriend." You corrected, standing between Rafe and JJ. "You have no right -"

"No right?" Rafe scoffed, his glance shifting to me now. "Until three hours ago I was your boyfriend and now you're grinding against this Pogue?"

You glare at Rafe. "Get away from me."

"Oh, I will." Rafe gritted through his teeth. As he spoke, his arm went around you and he tried to grab onto JJ's collar. JJ was quicker though and dodged his grasp.

"Run!" You yelled, turning around and pushing JJ our of the way.

JJ was fast. You were in heels so you weren't exactly the fastest person at this party but even as you ran, JJ was miles ahead of you. He looked back for a second, to see where you were and stopped to wait. You were surprised.

"C'mon." He said, grabbing onto your hand as you both ran into a closet and hid.

You heard Rafe and his goons tun down the same hallway you had just run down and they missed you completely. They were such idiots that they didn't even check the closet.

As you both caught your breath in the closet, you couldn't help but smile like an idiot. You had never felt so alive and you still couldn't believe you felt like this with JJ. He was the last person you ever thought could make you feel like this.

Soon, your dumb smile made JJ smile like an idiot and soon you both were smiling at each other. No longer did you guys have to catch your breath but you both still were breathing heavily. You were chest to chest and you were sure JJ could feel your heartbeat pick up.

He looked to your lips. "Why're you smiling?"

You shrugged. "Never done this."

JJ raised his brows. "What? You never ran from your ex with a boy you just met and ended up in a closet?"

You covered your mouth as you laughed. "You have?"

JJ shrugged, obviously joking. "Yeah, like five times."

You nodded, suppressing your smile. You were afraid if you smiled too much, your happiness would be taken away too quickly. You didn't want this to end. "With your rap sheet, I believe you."

JJ gasped, grabbing his chest again and falling an injury. "Another shot. I'm starting to think you're jealous."

You scoffed. "Jealous? No."

JJ raised his brows. "No?" His hand reached up from his sides and came to the hair in front of your face. He brushed it to the side and tucked it behind your ear. "Never thought about kissing me?"

Your smile was gone and replaced with butterflies. "Nope."

"I'm hurt." JJ confessed, fake frowning.

You smirked. "Why?"

"Because," JJ whispered, leaning forward. "I've thought about kissing you ever since you spoke to me for the first time."

Your breath hitched in your throat. His face was so close, his lips even closer. All you would have to do was lean forward and your lips would definitely meet. So, with a deep breath, you leaned forward to meet JJ's lips.

The second you kissed, you felt heat move through your entire body. JJ's hands came up to cup your face as your hands rested on his chest.

Your lips were on fire. For about the millionth time since you met him, he had proved you wrong. You were so glad he did. This kiss was like your favourite song. It was a beautiful sunset on a summer night. It was everything. You never kissed anyone like this. Whether it was adrenaline or the fact that he was someone you barely knew, this kiss was passionate. Your heart felt like his hands were around it. You didn't know how to act when this kiss would come to an end.

You angled you head so that your kiss would deepen. He tasted like mints and liquor and it tasted divine. You seriously couldn't get enough.

But sadly, you had to part. You needed to take a deep breath and you couldn't when his lips were on yours. You were the first to pull away and take a breath.

Once you did, JJ was the first to speak. "Um, wow."

You nodded, wiping your mouth. Your lipstick was definitely smudged. JJ saw your struggle and moved your hand to help. Except he didn't. Once he touched your lips again, your stomach dropped and you leaned to kiss him again. He instantly closed the space and kissed you again.

God, he was addictive. You definitely got it now. Sarah was right. The way Pogue boys kissed was so different from any Kook boy. Kook boys were careful and soft but JJ was the exact opposite. He was passionate but slow and everytime your tongues touched, you felt your stomach flip.

Finally, you both pulled away again. This time he actually helped you rub away your lipstick without kissing you.

"Wow." You said this time.

JJ nodded, catching his breath. He held onto his chest dramatically once more, making you giggle. "Who the fuck are you Y/N?"

You shrugged. Then, you remembered something. "You wanted to kiss me even when I was ripping your head off?"

JJ chuckled, shaking his head. "The first time I met you was when you smiled at me at the station."

You tried to remember that. Finally, you did. You were interviewing Sheriff Peterkin for the school newspaper and that's when JJ walked into her office. He plopped himself down as you said your goodbyes to Peterkin and you hadn't spoken to him at all. He had sarcastically waved goodbye to you and you genuinely smiled. You remember feel bad for him. You barely remembered his name but you saw him around school, always pissing someone off. You wondered why he wanted to kiss you then.

So, you asked. "Why'd you want to kiss me then?"

JJ rubbed his good eye and smiled at you. There was no arrogance under this smile, it was just pure happiness. "You smiled at me like I wasn't a delinquent like everyone else. You just saw me, a regular person."

You were so surprised. You hadn't thought anything of it and never thought of that day again. Until right now. How could JJ remember that?

"I'm surprised you remembered that." You confessed, grabbing ahold of JJ's hand.

JJ smirked. "If you ever tell anyone that, I'll embarrass you."

You giggled. "How?"

"I'll tell everyone you kissed me." JJ joked, squeezing my hand.

"That's not embarrassing." You gave JJ a fake frown, suppressing a smile. "Tell them I once peed my pants in ninth grade."

JJ cackled as you said this. Scared we'd be found, you covered his mouth. "Don't."

It was too late. Someone had heard you and JJ.

Only seconds later, someone opened the closet door. You squeezed JJ's hand to brace yourselves for Rafe but instead it was another waiter. He looked disappointed but not surprised.

"You gotta get out of there." He deadpanned, making way for you to leave.

JJ exited first, you following him shortly after. After you exited, he let go of your hand and looked to you. You were standing in a hallway now and you were too busy looking out to see if Rafe and his goons were around, you didn't realize he was trying to get your attention.

"Y/N." He said, finally getting your attention. Once you looked to him, he spoke. "You wanna pretend like this never happened?"

Your heart sank. Maybe you were wrong in giving him the benefit of the doubt. You sure decided to be honest. You never wanted to go back to never knowing JJ Maybank.

You shook your head. "Do you?"

JJ smiled. "No."

You both just stood there and smiled at each other for a moment. You were just content in being together. You wondered that maybe this is how relationships were supposed to be; easy. It seemed so easy with JJ.

After a long period of silence, JJ leaned forward and kissed you once more. As you pulled away, he spoke."I should go. Don't wanna get my ass handed to me by those goons."

You laughed, shaking your head at him. "I'll see you around then?"

JJ shrugged. "Let's just say, I forgot my keys in Sarah's closet and I'll come by tomorrow at three to get them. If you're there, then I'll see you then."

You shook your head, smiling so wide. "I'll see if I can make it."

JJ nodded and then let you go, making his way farther and farther away from you. At first, you watched you as he walked but when he got to the door, leading him in the opposite direction of the party, he turned around and opened the front door of Sarah's home. Then, JJ was gone. He was gone before you could even say goodbye.

But you knew its wasn't goodbye. This was just the beginning.