#but a stupid pair of heals should never cost that much

[ilona-mushroom]

I hate you overpriced designer clothes, I hate you luxury brands, I hate you sweat shops, I hate anything wearable costing more than someone’s rent, I hate you designer clothes made to look poor, I hate you “punk aesthetic”, I hate you designer brands.

[crystalelemental]

Unit Teambuilding - Sygna Suit Blue

Okay, this is actually the last one, right? Please, I just want to see my wife again...

General Overview In the half anniversary of the first year, SS Red dropped and broke the game in half. For the full year anniversary, SS Blue and SS Leaf joined him, completing Kantrio, one of the most dominant team structures the game would have for the next like year and a half. Among them, SS Blue was widely considered the biggest reason for this, because his tanking stats are huge, and he doesn't take much damage. Though it should be noted, a lot of the skills he does have, came from fan complaints. Initially, no one liked his kit, so DeNA, for the first and only time, buffed the kit like a month later, likely due to poor sales. It was this buffed iteration that people flocked to.

And man, it sucks. I'm sorry, SS Blue was never that good. Bulk is all well and good, but only in so much as you can sustain. Blue's sustain requires like 20 energy, and is two 30% chances to get a gradual healing tier recover for the team. It's inconsistent and not that much, so he can be bowled over without EX investment, and without 3/5 he barely heals. But everyone had him 3/5 EX because he was such a wall of the time, so no one really felt his limitations. But I felt them. I felt them for ages. And he never caught up to what other supports could do. He's always felt behind in my book, even as others would say stupid shit like SS Kris is worse than him. Which is. Just adorable.

So I'm pleased to say that he, too, is plagued by "is technically free and thus must be kept from power." Blue gained Fierce/Grand Entry 1 for a guaranteed +2 to offensive stats for the team, Freevenge 4, Team Rain Coat for Rain teams only, Status Immunity as a buffed Natural Remedy, and First Aid 4. Which is some relatively neat stuff. Oh, but uh. Grid energy. See, to function, Blue needs his two stacks of passive healing. He needs MPR on his trainer move or he can't cap crit, and ideally you have Pep Rally to avoid being super slow. Which leaves no room for more than one of these skills, and that's after dropping the old standbys of Quick Cure, Natural Remedy, and Impervious. Getting First Aid is assured healing, at the cost of a lot of safety against things like status and debuffs. Which...maybe that's a good trade. Not all stages use status or debuff stats. But it highlights how competitive his grid is, and how little room he had to grow.

I maintain that Blue is what he's always been: fine. He's a decent defensive tank with inconsistent offense buffing, inconsistent healing, and a few new tools for flexibility. He remains fine. As long as he is at least 3/5.

EX and Move Level Most supports kinda need 3/5, but you can be flexible. Blue cannot. 2/5 is the barest minimum you can get away with. Without it, no crit capping, and no healing at all. He sucks royally. But even 2/5 often lets you down. It wasn't until I had EX and 3/5 that Blue started to perform a job.

Team 1: SS Blue, SS Red, SS Leaf I have to start with this because it highlights what people mean when they say Blue is so good. Blue works as a good support...to pairs who don't need anything, and pairs who can heal. SS Red can self-buff all his offensive stats. Blue is allowed to just roll badly on Team Shout, because all Red needed was bulk and a tank to absorb hits. SS Leaf has Potion and Gradual Healing for the team, and that's what Blue needs to be consistent. What I'm saying is that the rest of the team was carrying Blue all along, and specifically that Leaf was doing it. Potion support carries Blue, and defensive debuffing carries Red without his Sun.

Team 2: SS Blue, Alder, SC Ingo I admittedly have a lot of trouble considering Blue optimal for things, but let's talk about this. Blue's Trainer Move gives gauge acceleration and +1 crit. Ideally, he is able to hold them until the acceleration runs out, but often needs to spend for the crit. Dire Hit+ users offset this. Blue's ensured X Def All also offsets detriments like Alder's trainer move, which otherwise gives just what he needs.

Team 3: SS Blue, Oleana, Emma Let's talk about one other thing Blue has now. You ever notice how a lot of pairs have very effective 1MP self-setup, but their offensive stat only goes to +4? This is where those entry skills come in. Blue tops off a +4 to a +6 by selecting the relevant offensive stat. With Pep Rally on his trainer move, which also supplies the gauge acceleration, he can facilitate a dual strike comp like this one.

Final Thoughts I think a big problem with Blue is that, with only crit rate as a consistent angle, he really struggles to teambuild specifically with. He can slot into a lot of possible options, but very rarely is he optimal, because you can't control for Team Shout. And as the meta develops to allow everyone to self-buff crit, Blue's one main consistency gets less and less valuable. He thrives off of being slightly too bulky to take out easily, and hoping for good luck along the way as a match continues. And I...don't really respect that. I never have. SS Blue just never felt that great, and honestly, he doesn't add much now.

I will concede, with meta developments offering a lot of options that hit +4 but not +6, the entry skills are a pretty hilarious boost to utility. But I also have to note that SS Blue has always been like this, too. He supports top meta performers, but very rarely has what it takes to carry a lower tier. Every showcase of how good SS Blue is, winds up being a showcase of how good an offensive unit his partner is. Blue, despite being defensive, is carried by his team, rather than the other way around. And in my over two years playing, across EX and non, and every move level he has...that's never once changed.

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

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

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

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

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

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

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

Inkphoria

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

Inkphoria

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

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"JK, sweetheart!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dammit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"Let me see!"

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

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

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

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

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

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

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

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

And oh, did it react.

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

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

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

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

You swear you almost came right on his table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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You know he's here.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why not?"

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

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

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You've made up your mind.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

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

"A date."

"Yes."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

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

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

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

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

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

To your surprise, none of that happened.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm sorry, by the way."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungkook."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

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

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

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

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

There's another pause, and then-

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

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

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

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It's not that you're mad.

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

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

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

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

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

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

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

'you free on saturday?'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

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

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

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

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

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

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ju- "

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

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

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

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

"Please, don't laugh."

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

She doesn't laugh at all.

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

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

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

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

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

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

"I know. I'm just sad."

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

"I know."

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

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

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

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

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

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

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

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Inkphoria.

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

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

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

'And he's cazy about you too.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Knock knock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[trektraveler]

Nightingale Chapter Eight: Florence

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Eight: Florence

Word Count: 4246

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Additional Notes: The response to this story has been beyond my expectations! You guys have been the best! Thank you for continuing to read my work and encourage me, its kept my eye on the prize :)

Series Masterlist

You weren’t sure how long you laid awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. An hour, maybe two. It was endlessly frustrating. Your sleep schedule had been non-existent ever since your field trip to the set. You really didn’t want to admit that you were still in the healing process, but your body was determined to remind you. Disrupted sleep patterns were pretty common for concussions. When your body got tired you simply conked out, so rather than a light cat nap you passed out for several hours at a time. So now, here you were wide awake in the middle of the night.

And then there were the nightmares.

You kept dreaming of the little girls with the blonde hair. They were often playing children’s games like hide and seek or hopscotch. You never saw their faces, but you could hear them giggling. You knew they were important, so very important. They were always so happy in your dreams, yet you woke up in tears. You knew pushing yourself to remember would only lead to headaches and frustration. Still… you couldn’t help but try.

At last, you gave up on sleep. You threw the covers back with a frustrated huff. You climbed out of the warm bed and wrapped yourself in your new robe. The purple velvet robe with the silk trim from that day at the store. You’d refused to buy it, determined to get only the essentials. It was a totally luxury item and cost a stupid amount of money. A few days later, you found it wrapped up and waiting for you on your bed.

Another one of Jensen’s gifts.

“Jensen! You didn’t need to get me this,” you said, pulling the extravagant robe out of the box.

“I disagree. Gretchen said you loved it, that you never wanted to take it off.” Jensen took the robe out of your hands and held it out to you with an arch of his eyebrow.

You turned around and reluctantly let him guide your arms through the sleeves. “Of course, I love it, it’s beautiful.”

“Then you should definitely have it.”

“But I don’t need it,” you whispered, focusing on his hands as he wrapped the robe around you and tightened the belt at your waist.

They were much bigger than yours. Strong, beautiful, and dusted with freckles. Suddenly, you wished there was no robe or any other article of clothing separating you.

He studied you for a moment, as if he was trying to come to a decision about something.

“Close your eyes.”

When you frowned in confusion, he laughed, “Come on, close ‘em.”

You finally complied and he moved his hands to rest on your upper arms. He rubbed his thumbs back and forth ever so slightly. It was one of those distraction techniques of his. Whenever he felt you were getting too much in your own head, he would find a way to get you to relax. He’d gotten incredibly good at it over the past few weeks, and you found you enjoyed it. There was a feeling of security and safety there. You could let go, Jensen had you.

“Now, don’t worry about practicality. Don’t think about the cost or any of that crap. Don’t think at all, just concentrate on feeling. How does it make you feel?”

“Good,” you automatically answered.

“Uh, I think you can do better than that,” he replied, gently massaging the curve of your shoulders through the fabric. “Its soft, isn’t it?”

“Mmm,” you nodded.

“Warm?”

At first it felt a bit silly, you were wearing it over your regular clothes. Making it feel like a wizard’s robe, straight out of Hogwarts. Like you were playing dress-up. You felt ridiculous and shy. Then Jensen worked his magic and those self-conscious feelings faded away. You rubbed the fine fabric of the cuff between your fingers, and it reminded you of that day. The rose petals and the princess-pink cookies.

“Like a queen.” A small smile bloomed, “I feel like a queen.”

“See,” he said as you opened your eyes. “You do need it.”

You padded quietly down the hall, passing Jensen’s closed bedroom door on your way to the kitchen. He had an early call time and would be up in a few hours but in the meantime, you needed to make sure you didn’t raise a ruckus. Even hardened hunters like Dean Winchester needed their beauty sleep.

You set yourself up at the breakfast bar with a tall glass of milk and a pad of paper. Curling up with a good book and a glass of wine sounded more appealing, but reading was still on the doctor’s no go list of activities for you. The last thing you needed was to add a migraine to your sleepless night. You tucked your legs up under your backside and propped your chin in your hand as you moved the pencil over the page. You weren’t much of an artist, but you still tried to recreate the little girls from your dream.

A few short minutes later, you heard a sound coming from down the hall. Leaning over the bar, you could see a faint pool of light coming from beneath Jensen’s door. You were ready to dismiss your concern after the sound of the toilet flushing, but then there was a loud groan.

No, not a groan. Actual moaning, as if in pain.

You made your way to his door and hesitated for a moment, but when the sound came again, you knocked softly. “Jensen?”

Getting only a groan in reply, you opened the door enough to poke your face inside, “Jay? Are you okay?”

The room was completely dark except for the shaft of light that shone from the adjoining bathroom. The massive king-sized bed was a wreck of tangled blankets and pillows. Jensen was turned away from you, uncovered and curled in a near fetal position. He was in boxers and a t-shirt, hadn’t even bothered to draw a sheet over himself. He moaned again and curled more into himself.

Any concerns of violating his privacy disappeared as you came around to his side of the bed. His eyes were squeezed shut and the grimace on his pale face said he was in obvious pain. He didn’t acknowledge you though, as he seemed to be breathing in and out through his nose like he was concentrating on something.

You crouched down in front of him, balancing on the balls of your bare feet. You placed a cautious hand on his shoulder. “Jay?”

“Mmmnph, sorry I woke you, sweetheart. Go back to bed.” He never opened his eyes. His voice was gravely and there was a the faintly acidic smell of vomit on his breath.

Ignoring his command, you shifted your hand from his shoulder to his face and frowned. He was hot to the touch. “You’re sick?”

“Something I ate,” he mumbled. “Out of my system now.”

“You’ve got a fever.” At his non-committal grunt, you gently cupped his cheek, “Have you taken anything for it?”

“Just need sleep. I’ll be fine.”

When you didn’t reply, he figured you had left him to die in peace. His arms wrapped around his stomach, and he shivered violently. Everything ached. He couldn’t decide if he was hot or cold, in short, he was miserable.

A few minutes later he felt the blanket being pulled up over him. He burrowed into it, unable to stop the groan that escaped his lips as his stomach cramped.

“I’ve got water and Tylenol; think you can keep it down?”

He only grunted and burrowed further into the bed.

“Okay,” you softly replied. “Try to get some sleep, I’ll be back to check on you.”

“Mmm fine.”

“There’s a trash can here by the bed if you need it,” you said, ignoring his declaration of health. “Stay in bed, rest is the best thing for you.”

You quietly exited the bedroom, but left the door cracked an inch so you could hear if Jensen needed help. Your mind was clicking away, almost on autopilot. You knew this wasn’t food poisoning. The two of you had eaten together, and you were fine. It was more likely a virus. A stomach bug that would make you feel like death until it had run its course. That meant staying in bed, staying hydrated and keeping the fever under control. That also meant no working for a couple of days.

You picked up your cell from the kitchen counter, the time showed three thirty a.m. With a sigh you dialed Jared’s number and hoped he wasn’t too put out with an early wake up call.

“Mmm, ‘ello?”

“Jared? It’s Y/N. Sorry, I know its late. Or early, I guess.”

“Y/N? No, it’s okay.” He replied, coming more awake. “What’s up?”

“Jensen’s sick.”

“Is he okay? Do you need me to come over?”

“No, its best that you don’t actually. I’m pretty sure it’s a stomach flu, a nasty one.” Your explanation was cut short by the sound of retching in the background.

“Oh, ugh. Sorry to hear that. It’s pretty bad huh?”

“Yeah, listen I know you guys have a tight shooting schedule and all but...”

“Say no more,” Jared cut you off, kindness in his voice. “That dude never gets sick, got a cast iron stomach, must be bad to sideline him. Just tell him to take care and not to worry about the show. We’ll work out the details.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, “Thanks Jared.”

“No problem, take care of yourself too, okay?”

Next came the phone call you were dreading. You hesitated for a moment, cursing your cowardice, then dialed.

“What?”

“Clif? Its Y/N.”

“I know who it is.”

“I’m sorry to bother you...”

“Its three in the morning!”

“I know, I’m sorry. Listen, Jensen is sick, and I need you to pick up some supplies.”

“It’s the middle of the damn night, call an Uber and get them yourself.”

Something inside of you snapped into place, maybe it was the late hour or maybe it was finally being in control of something. You knew exactly what needed to be done and with that came confidence. You were done being intimidated and bullied into submission.

“Look, I know you don’t like me or trust me. I get it, and I’m not exactly sold on you myself. But we don’t have to like each other to work together on this. Now, it’s probably just a stomach virus and it can be handled at home with a few basic supplies. If I text you a list, will you go and pick them up?”

When he said nothing, you pressed on, “I would go but he’s too sick to be left on his own. Please.”

“Oh, I get it, you’re going to play nurse, huh? I’ll bet you’re a regular Florence Nightingale.”

You swallowed the temper that rose up, “Viruses are nasty and contagious. I’ve already been exposed but maybe you haven’t. It’s prudent and responsible if you go and I stay. But if you are unwilling to help then I will find another option.”

“… Text me.”

Satisfied that you’d set the proper wheels in motion, you returned to Jensen’s room. He was still curled in on himself, completely buried under the covers. You noticed he’d already made use of the trashcan during your absence. He was shaking so hard that the mound of blankets he was under quaked. What little of his face you could see was pale so that his freckles stood out in stark contrast and covered in a sheen of sweat.

Poor guy!

You sat on the edge of the bed and ran your hand over his forehead.

“Hmm,” he muttered, keeping his eyes squeezed shut. “That feels good… feels cool.”

“That’s because you’re burning up,” you replied, gently shifting your hand to his cheek. “You take any Tylenol?”

“Wouldn’t stay down.”

You ran the digital thermometer over his forehead and frowned at the reading it gave.

102. Not good.

“What’s it say? I’m too hot… to… hot to handle?” Jensen said, breaking into a coughing fit.

You pressed a cold washcloth against his head, earning a groan from him. “Channeling Dean Winchester? This is going to be an interesting night.”

“Lucky for… for you. You’re a Dean girl… right? Hey!” he complained when you pulled the covers down to his waist, “I’m freezing here!”

You allowed him to retain only a thin sheet, “This is the only way to keep that fever manageable until you can keep some meds down.”

“This sucks.” Jensen groaned, tugging up the sheet.

You pressed a cool washcloth over his forehead and ran it down his neck. “I know, but it will get better.”

He gazed up at you through is fever haze. The lamp beside the bed cast warm glow over your features, a halo of light. You looked like a damned angel. “You’ve got the prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen.”

“You’ve got a soft spot for blue eyes?”

“I’ve got a soft spot for your eyes.”

“That’s the fever talking.”

He smiled drunkenly at you, “They remind me of home. Texas bluebonnets, they crop up everywhere in the spring. Just the most intense blue you’ve ever seen. I see those big, blue eyes… feels like home.”

“How can you be this sick and this charming at the same time?”

Suddenly, his eyes bulged, and his mouth clamped shut. You grabbed the trash can just in time for him to empty out what little was left in his stomach. He hung off the edge of the bed, heaving up nothing but bile and salvia into the bucket.

You rubbed his back until he was able to stop and handed him a bottle of water. “Here, rinse and spit but don’t swallow.”

He complied, then fell back against the mattress with a groan, “Oh God… I’m dying.”

“Just a little,” you quipped as your phone buzzed in the pocket of your robe. “Stay put, I’ll be right back.”

Clif was at the door with three grocery bags filled with everything you requested.

“Here you go, Nightingale,” he said, depositing the bags on the counter.

You immediately started sorting items, making sure nothing was missing, “Thanks. Did you get everything?”

“Had to go to three different stores for that peppermint roller thing, but yeah.”

You fished the essential oil out from the last bag, “That’s perfect, thank you.”

The sound of Jensen vomiting loudly in the other room had Clif’s eyes widening. If he doubted you before, he certainly didn’t now.

“Ah. No problem,” he replied, quickly heading to the door. “Just give me a shout if you need anything else.”

You watched the gruff and tough dude who had been giving you grief, practically run out the door. This was the most agreeable he had ever been with you and while you were encouraged by it, you suspected it was largely due to the fact that Clif was a germaphobe.

“Huh.”

You locked the door behind him and took an armful of supplies to the bedroom.

“Okay kiddo, I’ve got a few things here that are going to help,” you softly said, setting up everything on the bedside table.

“I don’t want anything,” Jensen muttered, burying his face in the pillow.

“Can you sit up for me? I’ll make it better, I promise,” you coaxed.

He grumbled but did as you asked. Leaning his head back against the headboard, “There’s a beautiful woman in my bed and all I want to do is puke my guts out.”

“I’ll try not to take it personally.”

You started with the roller ball of peppermint oil, applying a generous amount to the pulse points on his wrists. You gently massaged it in as you went, the strong yet pleasant scent filling the room.

“That’s nice,” he murmured, keeping his eyes shut. The hard line of his mouth was starting to relax.

“Headache?”

“Yeah, a whopper.”

You continued the application of oil over his forehead and temples, then to the back of his neck. After a few minutes, you saw his features really calm.

“Still feeling queasy?”

“No, just really tired.”

You nodded as if you were expecting that response. Before he really could register what was happening, you’d eased his sweat-soaked shirt over his head and replaced it with a clean one. You swapped his damp pillow with the unused one from the other side of the bed.

“You need to sleep, but first let’s try that Tylenol again.”

Tempting fate, Jensen ate the three saltines you gave him and swallowed down the pills with water. To his great relief, it stayed put.

“I need to call Jare,” he slurred, already closing his eyes as he burrowed under the covers.

“I already did, you are instructed to stay home and get better.” You ran your fingers gently through his hair, continuing to coax him into sleep.

“Hmmm….”

“I’m putting this peppermint oil right next to the bed; I want you to hold it under your nose if you feel nauseous. It will help, okay?”

“Mmmm....”

It was nearly seventy-two hours before Jensen was through the worst of it. You spent that time on a strict schedule, you found that structure made caretaking easier. You had timers set for medication and eating. You kept track of how much water he managed to drink and once he kept it down consistently, you switched him to Pedialyte to counter the dehydration.

Clif made another trip to the store for you and dropped off everything you needed to make chicken noodle soup. An easy recipe that even you couldn’t mess up and you could let it go in the crockpot for a day. Hopefully when Jensen woke up, he’d be in the mood to try it.

You hated seeing him so miserable, and you did everything in your power to make it better. You didn’t mind that you were sleep deprived or that you developed a much milder version of whatever bug this was. You found you liked the structure of it, you liked knowing exactly what to do and doing it. In a way, you felt better doing this than you did doing anything else.

When Jensen woke, every joint ached. He sat up and was very happy that his stomach didn’t talk back when he moved. Taking a quick inventory of his symptoms, he found only a slight headache and muscle ache remained. His mostly clear sinuses picked up the heavy scent of peppermint and sweat. He gave himself a quick sniff and immediately headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later, he was a new man. The hot water massaged most of his complaints away and when he exited the bathroom, he found you making his bed.

“Hey, you look like you feel better,” you said, zipping up the newly laundered pillowcase.

“Way better, turns out I’m gonna live after all.”

“Good, think you can handle some soup? You really haven’t eaten much in the past couple of days.”

“That actually sounds pretty good,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. His memory of the past few days was hazy around the edges but what he did remember was embarrassing.

You crossed over to him and felt his forehead with the back of your hand, “You don’t even have a fever anymore. That’s great.”

Jensen looked around the room, while you tossed the old bedding in the hamper. Everything was nicely tidied up. Used tissues and empty water bottles were gone, trash can emptied and sanitized. The smell of stale sick was replaced with a light lemon disinfectant.

“Taking care of my sick ass was above and beyond, Y/N. You didn’t have to clean too.”

“I disagree,” you replied. “Now that you’re through the worst of it, it’s best to start fresh.”

“Well, thank you. I hope I wasn’t too much of a pain in the ass.”

“Nah, you behaved yourself for the most part. Although, you do talk in your sleep, a lot. Especially when your fever is high.”

Jensen immediately tried to search his memory for what incriminating information he let slip, “Oh yeah?”

You winked, “Bluebonnets.”

Remembrance reflected in his gaze, and he gave a bashful smile. “I thought I dreamt that.”

“Don’t worry,” you assured him. “I won’t hold you responsible for your fever ramblings.”

You suddenly broke off in a sneezing fit. Jensen’s brow furrowed as you loudly blew your nose. “I got you sick, didn’t I?”

“Viruses are invasive and highly contagious,” you explained in a nasally voice. “We live together, it was only a matter of time.”

“Still, I’m taking care of you now,” he declared, making mental notes of your red, chapped nose and lips. “Running around after my sick ass, no wonder you came down with it.”

“Whoa there, cowboy. I’m okay, I really am.”

He started to protest, and you held your index finger to his lips. You raised your eyebrows, daring him to test you and you felt his mouth quirk as he fought a smile. Evidently you were adorable when you were bossy.

“This stomach bug took you down hard and yes you are better, but you still need lots rest to gain your strength back. And yes, I’m sick too but nowhere near as bad as you. I’ve been taking care of myself along with you, we’re both on a schedule.”

“Schedule?”

“Sleep, meds, water, nutrients.” You said, covering a cough with the back of your hand. “Rinse, repeat.”

He gave you a look that clearly meant your post-nasal drip just proved his point.

“Still not as sick as you.”

“Okay, well how about we compromise?” Jensen suggested. “We take care of each other.”

You wrinkled your nose as you fought the urge to sneeze again, “What do you mean?”

“I’m exhausted, you’ve gotta be too. How about we have some of that soup you mentioned and camp out on the couch?”

He handed you a tissue as you broke into another sneezing fit. “And since we’re both already sick, well… you said cuddles were crucial to recovery. Right?”

Your mind flashed back to that day when he’d asked if you minded how affectionate he was. If you were bothered by the cuddles and hugs he gave you so easily and so often. You may not be able to remember your life before cuddles with Jensen, but you certainly couldn’t imagine life without them.

“Couch cuddles are a proven cure-all.”

The ring of a cell phone was on your list of top five most annoying sounds in the world. It shot straight to the top of that list when that incessant ringing pulled you from a deep sleep. Groaning, you peeled your blurry, sleep-crusted eyes open, trying to get your fuzzy brain to come on-line. The television provided the only light source in the room, the credits to a movie you didn’t recognize were rolling. You were warm and comfortable, despite the fact that every one of your limbs were intertwined with Jensen’s. He was holding you in place against his chest with one hand while the remote dangled from the other. His cheek was resting on top of your head, and he was snoring lightly. When you shifted and tried to move, he tightened his grip and grumbled.

As much as you would have liked to throw the phone across the room and burrow back into the perfect nap, you knew you had to answer it. It was probably Jared checking in, ignoring it would be rude and he would only call back.

You untangled yourself enough to escape Jensen’s grasp. The time flashed on your phone along with an unknown number. You frowned at both.

“Wow, a six-hour cat nap,” you muttered before answering the call. “Hello?”

Jensen only heard part of your conversation, as your suddenly missing body warmth brought him fully out of dreamland. The serious tone of your voice and the uncertain look on your face had him sitting up and alert.

“Oh, okay. Yes, yes that’s right... Okay, well please forward me everything and I’ll be in touch if I have questions. Thank you again for everything. Okay, bye.”

You pressed the end call button and stared at your phone as if you were expecting it to change shape or something.

“Y/N? Everything alright?”

You couldn’t seem to find your voice, so you merely nodded. You couldn’t quite believe it. A part of you thought that maybe it never would never happen. You’d gotten too comfortable and now it felt like the rug was ripped out from under you. You’d been the one to ask questions, and now you feared the answer. You had no one but yourself to blame for the feeling of dread that settled in your stomach.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong? Who was on the phone?”

“It was the Vancouver police department. They found me.”

Your eyes met his and you felt like you were losing something. As if discovering your true identity would somehow erase the one you’d found here, with him. Suddenly, you didn’t want to know. Truth or not, would it be worth it if you lost Jensen because of it? Then again, if the truth caused this all to end, was it ever real to begin with?

You swallowed the panic down along with the lump in your throat. “They found out who I am.”

[mirkysconcubinefiction]

Affair

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Stuff: Angst - Short - Betrayal - Toxic Family - Miscarriage Mentioned - Tears.

Y/N subbed for ****

Summary: He had cheated and life isn't fair but time will do you justice.

The table was long, polished, and took up much of the space of the Manhattan high-rise office. Neutral ground for you and your hus- Ex would end the charade of a marriage after 3 months of matrimony.

Three months.

Four years strung along like a love-sick puppy and it took a marriage and a miscarriage to show you how horrible your choice in men was. A tale older than time - money, status, affairs, you were living the American dream and poof all gone.

It wasn't the nanny, the secretary, it wasn't a prostitute, nope, it had been your sister.

Your sister.

You'd like to say you were surprised but you weren't. Hell, even your parents had cut you off until you forgave her.... to keep the peace... once again the favorite child wins.

You'd thought you had won.

A faithful and dedicated man who was there with you at your lowest after going No Contact with family and the loss of your first and only child.

Yet here you sat.

You had made sure to dress impeccably with your finest jewelry that glittered under the natural light of the windows, you'd even gotten extensions and a stylist to pin-up your hair and makeup so you could sit in a chair like a warrior.

Only now as time ticked and the drone of voices of both your attorneys filled the silence you didn't feel like that strong and confident woman from when you had walked in. Tear tracks ruined the part you wanted so much to believe in.

Weak.

Pitiful.

Squaring your shoulders you told yourself crying was ok. You could cry because mourning allowed you to heal and you would be in a better position.

"My client wants nothing."

It had been an unnecessary ongoing battle. You didn't want one cent of alimony, not one square inch of property, you didn't want a thread of fabric from the closets you had left behind, no gem or trinket gifted to you.

Nothing.

Nada.

You deserved it all though. Every dollar in the joint account belonged to you. You'd help build the Barnes Empire from the ground up, it had been first in your name and love had blinded you.

It was your penance for being stupid but it also ensured that James Buchanan Barnes was out of your life for good - you didn't want anything from the bastard. Nothing that he had touched and breathed on.

Your degree was good enough - you told yourself.

"Doll..." he tries but your attorney was there to cut him off.

"You agreed to the rule James."

"Steve come on!"

Before this fiasco Steve had been the best friend to your husband - he was set to be your unborn babies godfather had it survived - but Steve had taken you on at no cost. Maybe it was to assuage his own guilt?

Steve had known.

Your parents had known.

The neighbors had known.

The house staff had known.

Everyone fucking knew except you.

A fresh wave of tears fell and your lower lip trembled. It hurt to hold it in. You wanted to rage and scream and topple the table over.

"Doll. Look at me."

"James! I will call this meeting to an end."

"No! Look at me ****."

You don't.

"That's it..." Steve stands causing the others to stand leaving you the only one sitting looking pathetic and heartbroken.

Broken, hurt, depressed.

"Meeting is over. We'll reschedule and Ms. **** will not be present."

"This isn't over. We're not over." Bucky's hand smacks the table top. "****!"

There's so much you want to say. Should say. Your chair rolls back and you stand with your purse secured at your side. Without a word you make it out of the room and ignore the commotion of your ex husband running in Steve as the other man keeps him from you.

Your silence is all you had.

Ever since you walked in on him and your sister you hadn't spoken a word to the man. Bucky hated to be ignored, he hated the silent treatment, in public you act as if he never existed, you pretend the last four years and three months had never happened.

Back before you met him.

You moved in with a dear friend and took public transportation as you hopped around the city looking for work as you decided what to do with your life.

Making it on the elevator you ignore the eyes on you and the shouts that are cut off when the door closes. The ride down is quiet and hailing a cab you remove your jewelry one by one and drop them in your purse.

Eventually you would have to pawn them if you did decide to leave New York. That was a thought for another day. Pulling out some face wipes and a hand mirror you wiped away the ruined makeup and staring into your reflection you knew time was your friend.

Once your divorce was final then you'd deal with your sister. Once the dust settles she will pay, with her life.

[violets-page]

Shot down Pt.3

Allie takes over your mind and all Raven can do is watch, feeling helpless.

TW: self-harm (kinda extreme)

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Masterlist

You relied often on the extension of crutches to be mobile. However, things that worked on the ark were not always as great on the ground.

Things like executions, lunch, and crutches, were all much better on the ark. All involved much less suffering. The bumpy terrain and muddy roads made you slip often. Walking made you anxious, afraid that at any moment your legs would give up and you would plummet to the soil. Stuck there until someone become willing to help. Needless to say, you avoided it at all costs. Or at least avoid walking alone.

Today was one of those days where you were forced to. Raven was working on some sort of electric fence around the camp and had begrudgingly left your side after you begged her to. You knew that being cramped inside all day with nothing to work on was worse than hell for her. It had rained earlier and the ground was a cesspool of piss and mud. Falling into it was ill-advised.

You were immensely grateful for the returning strength to your arms and spent many hours working out. Pull-ups were your preference. Without them hobbling along would have been much harder. Raven often commented on them with a smile and a laugh, it always made you blush.

The jagged metal of the crutches sank deep within the soil each time you set them down. It took forever for you to get more than a few feet from your tent, but by that time you had already grown too tired.

You practically fell onto a stray box before hurling the crutches into the mud next to you. You felt your foot twitch. Abby had stated this was a good sign of recovery but to you, it just felt like a painful reminder of your limits.

Your head fell forward as your palms dug into your eyes, holding back the tears like a damn.

The chip in your pocket felt like a hundred pounds as you pulled it out

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When Jaha gave you the chip he had seemed so sure of himself, so convinced that these people would be happy. Hell, the man fell from space in a death capsule, was stranded in the desert, almost died, and somehow, and he looked happier than anyone else on this damned planet.

You had run out of other options. The worst that could happen? It turned out to be a piece of plastic and you were left with the unsatisfying taste of dirt.

You held it against your lips toying with the idea, you had run out of time, out of patience, out of hope.

Raven had slowly gotten over her guilt (all thanks to you) and due to your inability to travel more than 30 feet without screaming, you barely saw her. Abby was the only one who checked in regularly and most likely because you spent most of your time in her makeshift waiting room.

Waiting.

You were always waiting. Waiting for your friends to return, waiting for your leg to heal, waiting for love.

Before you could stop yourself you let the chip slide onto your tongue. It dissolved quickly at tasted faintly like salt and dough.

You sat there, waiting for euphoria, waiting for...something.

The kids on the ark sometimes smoked herbs. You thought it would feel like that, the world fading around you as bright colors floated around and everything else just ceased to matter.

Instead, you wiped tears from your eyes all the while cursing Thelonious. You grabbed your crutches, the walk back would take your remaining energy, but better than then be stuck in the oncoming rain.

You felt your annoyance growing with each step as the crutches creaked irritated by your weight on them. You couldn’t take it anymore, the anger came crashing like waves. You slammed the crutches in the mud with a scream. You hated them. They poked you in the arm, they were too tall and made your shoulders ache, they sunk into the ground and were too nosy.

you stood in front of the crutches before raising your leg to stomp on them.

You took your anger out, everything that was wrong with the world you suddenly blamed the crutches for.

“Stupid mother fu-”

Your stomps slowed to a steady pat before halting completely. You were moving, standing. Without the aid of crutches. You took a few more steps, and a few more, and some more. Until your eyes were met with a pristine pair of black heels.

Your eyes trailed up the ivory-toned legs and over the tight red dress of a figure, you'd never seen before. You stared at her in confusion.

“Hello y/n”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven hadn’t realized what was happening till it was too late.

You fought against the hold on Clarke and Bellamy in a fit of screams. The forest looked the same to you no matter where you were and your eyes hungrily searched for anything you could recognize

You heard the familiar faint whispers of Raven’s ‘I’m sorry’ before a needle was plunged into your neck and everything went dark.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

The drive to the grounder camp felt long and hopeless to Raven. She spent the drive running her hand through your hair hoping part of your unconscious mind would recognize her touch and be soothed by it.

She watched as Clarke and Bellamy hopped out of the truck to reason with the vicious-looking grounder. Her Breath hitched waiting and hoping they would be able to reason with her. She couldn't bear to lose you.

You were all she had.

She felt you shift in her arms, your eyebrows furrowed and she could see your eyes flutter but remain close. For a second she forgot the situation, a gentle smile down at your waking form. Then reality came crashing.

“Hurry she's waking up!”

You felt the fabric of a blindfold as rough hands shoved it down before you could even open your eyes.

Hands were on your body, their touch felt familiar but not enough that you could place the figure. The blindfold cocooned your ears and amplified the sound of your breathing so that Clarke’s voice was a dull mumble.

You felt your body being released from your arms as your back sunk it to something soft and shiny. You immediately started trying to get free. Attempting to rip the blindfold off, you felt your hands and feet grabbed by multiple sets of limbs. Restraints were bound sloppily but tightly around your wrists, with the addition of the blindfold and multiple pairs of hands trying to hold you down you weren't making much, if any progress.

The smartest thing to do was to obliviate one of these obstacles. You choose the easiest one. Your hands clawed at your face, you could faintly feel your skin under your nails as you ripped at it before your fingers were finally able to latch onto the blindfold, yanking it down and around your neck.

Alie’s familiar red dress stood out strongly against the dull tones of the unfamiliar room. The group stood in tense anticipation as you snapped your head around, trying to recognize the room. You knew it wasn't part of the ark, it was too dirty and earth-like. The fur rug made you think Trikru but where you had no idea. When your mind drew a blank Alie grew frustrated. Or at least, her version of frustrated.

“We need to know where you are.”

Your thrashing resumed this time tenfold.

“WHERE AM I. WHERE AM I.”

They struggled to hold you down as you fought past your physical capabilities to escape. They all had a grip on a limb making movement nearly impossible. Injuries, even if you couldn’t feel them, weakened you.

You turned to the closest person, who happened to be Raven, and sunk your teeth into the flesh of her wrists. It was shallow, she yanked her hand back before you could go deeper. Her pain barely registered in your mind, her tears didn’t tug at your heart like you knew they should have.

Instead, you seized the opportunity to reach over and punch Jasper square in the nose. His hold loosed but by then Raven had latched back on, the blood from her wrists trickled slowly down onto your exposed skin. With each failed attempt at escaping struggling grew harder.

Clarke and Bellamy had been quick to grab a spare rope, using it to bound your hands and feet to the posts of the strange bed. You screamed in frustration as Alie stared at you. She showed no emotion, just the same semi-pleasant stare she always held.

“LET ME GO.”

You knew the awful things Alie could do and you were no stranger to them. The scream was a mix of terror and anger. You tossed your body up and down hoping to break the posts, the bed, something to set you free.

“LET ME GO LET ME GO LET ME GO.” Your voice grew more strained with every word. If you could feel pain your throat would probably ache immensely.

The group stepped back after thoroughly double-checking the knots. The sheer look of horror was displayed across all of their faces and it vexed you deeply

Didn't they know you were doing this for them? For her?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the other room, watching you made her feel sick to her stomach. Not that listening to your screams from a different room made it any better. She could hear the creaking of the bed and pained screams throughout the entire house. So she stood, waiting anxiously with Clarke for their next move.

Her nails had been chewed to the beds and she knew that if- when you came to, you would scold her till her ears bleed.

Clarke said she knew where to get a wristband and Sinclair knew how to alter it to suit their needs. But Raven grew nervous with the time it was taking for either of them to follow through on these promises.

She glanced to where Clarke was talking to the grounder and felt her muscles tense when the girl gave Clarke an angry glare. Whatever Clarke was trying to achieve, she was doing a horrible job of it.

By now all of her nails had been chomped town to raw skin so she switched to pacing. Back and forth, back and forth trying to drown out your ever-fainting screams.

Raven let an audible sound of relief when Clarke set the wristband on the table. It had been a silent mutual agreement that Sinclair would be the one to work on the wristbands.

One part because He knew them best and the other because Raven couldn’t keep her fingers from trembling long enough to do the necessary machine work.

“So how do we do this?” Clarke seemed the calmest of them all. Losing Lexa had numbed her in a way.

“If we can turn it into an EMP we can use it to fry the bitch out of her head. The electromagnetic pulse would destroy the critics. You just need to reverse the polarity and...”

Raven droned on in her explanation, faintly aware of how quiet the neighboring room had grown.

“We don’t know what the chip embedded in her brain is like, it could cause a bad outcome”

“Worse than this?” Her question was met with a defeating silence. Not that she expected anyone would answer. She wasn’t feeling too strongly about the plan either but she couldn't watch you slowly break apart, her lover disappearing with every day until all that's left would be a hollow shell. She tried to reassure herself that it was what you would want.

The group continued to talk, working up a solution until they had a solid plan mapped out. Monty and Octavia had fled to the dropship to gather the necessary parts while everyone else had stayed behind.

She made her way back into the room to watch you.

Maybe for a moment, she could envision you back to normal, pretending that she was simply watching you blissfully relax.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven stood in the corner of the room. Her posture was rigid and he hands crossed over her chest relaying defensive positioning.

Not that you even cared. You surveyed your bound wrists with a bored expression. Her eyes fluttered between you and the floor constantly. The floor was basic dirt and about as interesting as well... dirt. Meaning that she was avoiding your eyes.

You rolled your wrists thoughtfully considering a slip-out process, you knew how Raven worked, how she thought, her weak spots. You could take her easily. You tugged at the right wrist restarting trying desperately to wrench your wrist free.

Alie watched you robotically her red dress unnatural in the atmosphere.

“With marginally more slack, you could reach those knots.”

The idea hadn’t occurred to you before. without pain inhabilitating you, you’d be able to dislocate your shoulder, properly creating more slack.

You twisted, you could feel the muscles in your arm pulling taut as you put out exasperated grunts. Raven’s eyes snapped to yours, her worry clouding her fear.

“Y/N, please...”

When you made no effort to stop she took note of your clenched jaw and furrowed brow.

“What- what are you doing?”

Her voice no longer had any effect on you. Your heart didn’t ache when you saw the pain in her eyes, you didn’t feel the need to comfort her when you could sense her anxiety. You were trying to help her, get her to take the chip so that you could be happy together so that her pain could end. But until she did, she was just a pest in your mission.

You kept tugging, you could feel your muscles grow stressed as you got closer to your goal. The grinding of your bones scrapped your ears as your arm popped out of its socket.

Raven stood frozen in shock. The fear on her face was evident but she was too startled to have a reasonable reaction.

“There is no pain here Ray, you could be free.”

Maybe it was the nickname rolling off your tongue, it’s lack of love or familiarity, or maybe she saw you trying to chew off the restraints, but she finally snapped out of it.

“STOP IT! GUYS.”

The blood has started to run back down your arm. Somehow in forgetting pain you also forgot about death. Raven didn’t know what to do, how to stop you, and stop the bleeding all at once.

Her heart was pounding out of her chest as images of your still body lying in a pool of blood clouded her thoughts.

“Oh god.”

She reached for your head, her calloused fingers against your cheeks as she tried to turn your head away from her wrists. You snapped at her, your teeth clenching around the air, but it was enough to get her to let go. The memory of your teeth in her skin and the stinging of her wrist were a painful reminder of how far you would go.

Clarke came in as you resumed chewing on the restraints. So close...

Before you could get them Bellamy and Raven had yanked you away. Enforcing your body in its position with more rope.

Clarke shouted at you to stop but you drowned her out, straining your neck in a futile attempt to reach the restraints.

“Alie.”

Your head snapped to Jasper’s as the familiar probing sensation in your brain occurred. Everything went dark,  when you came back to it, Alie was staring at you. The slightest traces of distaste etched across her red lips.

“Let them help you”

You froze, staring straight ahead. For a moment everyone else did too. Probably expecting you to lash out again and bite one of them. When you didn’t Raven quickly took to untying your wrists.

You watched her with faint interest. You couldn’t remember why you wanted to save her but you knew you did, somewhere deep down. Your eyes traveled down her arms. Her fingers were latched tightly around your arm. The teeth marks were barely visible, caked under her dried blood. Or maybe that was yours. You felt something in you ache, you can’t feel pain but this feeling... felt painful?

You pondered upon its appearance as Clarke used her foot to relocate your shoulder.

You didn’t even flinch.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Raven had volunteered to stay with you. God knows why, you had hurt her enough. You rolled her eyes when she did, not that anyone noticed.

She sat at the end of the bed. you didn’t really mind, not that you could even do anything if you did.

You looked her up and down.

“Do you still cry?” It wasn’t really a question, you knew the answer. You just wanted to hear her say it.

Her eyes shot up to yours. Her hands tensed in her lap and you momentarily took note of her bloody nails.

“What”

“You used to cry over my leg. Why did you stop?”

She opened her mouth but then shut it not knowing how to answer, or who was even talking to her.

“If I’m being honest I think it was quite selfish of you. I’m the one with the fucked up leg and yet, I was the one comforting you about it.”

Her expression hardened but the tears in her eyes stayed. your stomach ached again but you ignored it.

“Get out of her head Alie”

You smiled at her, a nice teethy one, completely catching her off guard.

“It’s not Alie. It’s me Raven, your- your.” but your mind drew a blank. How did you know Raven? You couldn’t remember and it made you mad.

“You're the reason I’m in here. the reason I took the chip. Because you let me get shot.”

“Shut up.”

“You couldn’t help me and when I needed you most you disappeared.” you sneered at her as tears ran down her face.

“I’m sorry... I-”

Clarke’s hand was on her shoulder, leading her out of the room before you could get another jab in, but that didn’t stop you from trying.

“I HATE YOU RAVEN. I HATE YOU.”

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

You watched as Sinclaire put together a type of bracelet device.

“Their design is good, I won’t be able to get here before they disconnect you.”

You felt your heart rate spike knowing what was to come and that you had no way of stopping it. You struggled to try to pull your hands free before they could latch the device on. Your attempts were pathetic.

“You know too much. I can’t let them have you.”

The red dress disappeared and your head felt like it was on fire.

Die. Die. Die. Die. Die.

You had to get rid of the burning, it engulfed your head, shooting from the base of your neck, its flame growing stronger every second. You slammed your head against the headboard. Once. Twice. Every time you did the burning seemed to stop for a second, so you speed up. Screaming as your brain felt like it was being incinerated. You didn’t even notice when the bracelet was strapped on. Your eyes moved to Raven's tear-stained face and her mouth open in an apparent scream.

You almost stopped. A second of hesitation before the banging resumed.

You didn’t notice when blood started to run down your neck or when Octavia grabbed your head in an attempt to hold it still. You tried to scream at them to stop, that they needed to let you stop the burning but you couldn’t seem to form words.

You screamed as tears ran down your eyes.

“Please please please Raven. I don’t wanna die. Please don’t let them kill me!” You hiccuped. Your neck continued to jolt as you tried to smash it against the headboard. She looked heartbroken as her hands fell to your cheeks. You closed your eyes as sobs racked your body. The faint feeling of her lips against your forehead felt like a drop of water in the desert.

“I’m sorry love” You felt all the blood in your body vibrate as the current soared through you.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

When you woke up everything hurt. The pain shocked you at first. You’d grow accustomed to its absence. You went to move your hands to your head, the sticky blood coated your fingers as they rested upon a thin cut at the base of your neck.

“Ow.”

Everyone let out an audible sigh of relief. Her familiar hands were on the sides of your head, pulling your face into her chest. You allowed her scent and the smooth folds of her shit to engulf your senses as you tried to ignore the bustling headache that was sneaking up on you.

As if suddenly remembering you grasped her forearms pulling them away from your head, You stared at the deep, red indentations on her wrists.

You felt your breath catch in your throat as you let out a soft gasp.

You had done that to her.

She sensed your emotions, she always did. And she always knew exactly what to do about it. Her hands moved back to your hair, stroking it gently while avoiding the cuts and bruises you’d received.

You stared up at her for a while until the pain grew too much and you closed your eyes, allowing your head to fall back forward against her stomach.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

[hotdamnhunnam]

The Gavel Corrupts

A/N: Here goes – one of the premises from my Imagine Ideas post! In which Jax fucks you for the first time since becoming President... and shit hits different. (Note: This starts off with a short scene framing the title quote, followed by a flashback to the smutty episode!)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, dom!Jax, rough sex (like really fucking rough, hair pulling, choking, slapping, biting, all that good stuff!) (but also fluff, because this savage is a baby who deserves all of the love 💖)

Word Count: ~2.4k

He knows that he fucked up. Knows that he’s gone too far, and he can feel how terrified you are. By now he’s lost count of the bullets, all the shots taken without a second thought. The scariest part is he doesn’t even give a shit.

He knows he’s changed, more than his heart wants to admit, but still you’re here to talk him through it. Always have been. You’re his queen, and he will always be your king. In spite of everything. For all your life, you’ve had to fight for him. Together you can fight off anything.

Standing beside him in the meeting room, the two of you alone, you look down lovingly upon him, seated in his loveless throne. Your small hands cradling his big strong frame, seeking in vain to ease the pain that cuts him to the bone.

Jax reaches slowly toward the gavel on the Reaper table, runs his thumb along the wooden handle. Wishing he could blame this thing, this empty toy, for all the times that he’s fucked up. The little boy inside him does. “The gavel corrupts.”

You shift from where you’re standing, take a seat across from him, so you can look him squarely in the eye. His words are one thing, but those blue eyes never lie.

He meets your gaze, his guiding light amidst the mayhem and the madness. Knows you can hear, can taste, the bitterness in every word he says. “You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage.”

All too true. There are days’ worth of shit that you two have to talk through. Don’t even know how. But right now... there is something else you’d rather do. 

You reach out toward his vest, the presidential badge that weighs so heavy on his chest. “Sometimes being a savage... can be an advantage,” you tell him as you run your fingers wistfully along the tattered edge. “Remember the first time you fucked me, with this little patch?”

If there’s one thing that sets a spark within the darker side of Jax, that thing is sex. With you. The thought of how it feels between your legs, the way he makes you beg, for all the things that only he can do. Your words just now have started melting through the ice in which he hides, igniting heat that he can’t fight. The heat that only you can manage. This has always been the healing that he needs, when he’s most damaged. 

Of course Jax remembers the first time he fucked you as President. Neither of you could forget. But the way he describes it is different, a devilish smirk on his lips as he adds on to what you just said. “Not just fucked... fucking ravaged.”

***************

So it’s finally happened, you think. Walking into the room where your man sits as king. After every damn thing—all the shit that he’s done, all the battles he’s won—all the wars that you’ve lost... no, you can’t bear to think of the cost—it amounts to just...

This. Just a seat at a table, a hand on a gavel, a patch on his vest. This is all it is. All it will ever be. His fucking destiny, this curse he shoulders so heavily, rests on a symbol so small that it fits in his fist.

God, you fucking hate it. All the hatred you wish you could feel toward him, toward the king, you end up channeling into this stupid thing.

You silently reach down to pick it up. Just at the touch, something inside of you already feels corrupt.

And then he speaks. His voice is... strong, but in a way that feels so wrong. A way that makes you feel so weak. “Who said you could touch that.”

His tone is low. Cold. Fucking flat. Doesn’t even lift into a question. You know shit is bad when that happens, yet wouldn’t dare show him you’re frightened. You can’t.

“What?” you snap at him. “Jax, it’s a damn wooden stick. It’s not even that big.”

He reaches up without a word, and wraps his hand around your wrist. So hard it hurts. As if he wants to fucking choke it in his fist.

You bite your lip and fight to keep the gavel in your grip.

So Jax tightens his grasp, till you gasp, and it finally slips. Letting go of your hand, takes the gavel in his. Towering over you as he stands.

Makes you cower beneath him now just ‘cause he can. “Y/N. Do you know what this thing—this position I’m in—being king... do you know what it gives me?”

On instinct, your gaze drops. Ends up at his crotch as it so often does, and your heart stops. A hard-on, apparently.

“Clarity,” he then goes on to say, setting the gavel down to place both hands around your face. The hands that command you in every damn way. “Turns out that looking at you now, all I can see are all the times you ever lied, and let me down. I always let it slide. You knew I’d come around. Because I fucking love you, babe. You make me... soft.”

Hard where it counts, you want to say. But not out loud. You know to shut your mouth, for now. Fuck how the sea inside those damn blue eyes is deep enough to drown...

“So fucking soft,” he repeats, feeding off of your heat, grazing his lower lip with his pearly white teeth. In a ravenous snarl that’s not soft at all. All his tenderness toward you just suddenly fades to give way to the beast that’s beneath. “But not today. Today I’ve had enough. Today you’re gonna pay.”

Well, shit. You fucking want this, more than anything. To give yourself completely to your king. But you’ll be damned before you let yourself admit it, in a moment such as this one. You can’t let him know he’s won. “Ugh, come on, Jax—all the things I’ve done—we’ve both done wrong, but gotten past all that...”

“Maybe you did,” he cuts you off. Sharp and abrupt, like it’s his job to shut you up. The gavel really does corrupt. In every way. “But I’m still dealing with that shit. Every damn day.”

“Then we should talk, babe—”

“Talk?” he scoffs, spitting the word back in your face like it’s a curse. You almost wish you didn’t like the way it hurts. “What’s there to say? The only thing that mouth is good for now is sucking cock.”

Oh fuck. You’ve practically just died. “Jax, I...”

He leans in close, shifting one hand down to your throat, the other drifting low to reach between your thighs. High on his own hunger as mirrored in your eyes. The way your breathing comes in heated moans and sighs. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

While your cunt pretty much erupts, you can’t resist spluttering out the only obvious reply. “Make me.”

He smiles, slick and sly, taking the open invitation that you know he won’t deny. Lips curving up into that smirk that never fails to drive you crazy. “Oh, you asking for it, baby?”

“Begging. Please.”

“Then get down on your fucking knees.”

Jax doesn’t have to say it twice. He never does. Because he knows that he’s the boss. Pushes you down until your face is in the space between his thighs. One of his hands rests masterfully upon your head, the other making quick work of his belt. Your desperate hands reach up to help; he slaps them off, sudden and rough, dead set on doing every fucking thing himself.

His massive cock is unleashed soon enough. Hard as a rock as it springs free. And God, the sight of it is slaying you already. Even after all these years you’ve been together—so damn many—still it shocks you every time to see something so fucking powerful yet so insanely pretty.

He doesn’t give you time to gawk. Your job right now is just to swallow his entire goddamn cock.

Taking a fistful of your hair in his firm grip, he shoves the wet pink tip forcefully past your panting lips. “Suck. Suck this dick till you choke on it, bitch.”

Jax knows that words like this completely scratch your every itch. You open up and do as told. Like you were put on earth solely to fill this role. Your face is nothing but his filthy little fuckhole. And he proves it now, shows you exactly how he owns your mouth. Feeding you so full of this dick that you can’t fucking live without. With each pump of his hips, the back of your head bumps against the blunt edge of the table that’s behind it, hard wood banging on your skull, bruising you up in ways that make you feel so broken yet so whole. In ways that satisfy the slut inside your soul.

Though you are aching now to swallow down his load, you know it’s not meant for your throat. No, not today. He’s gonna fuck you in another hole to make you really pay.

All of a sudden, with a feral grunt, Jax pulls his cock out of your mouth and hoists you up, swiveling you around to bend over the Reaper table facedown, yanking down your pants in one swift motion, brutally exposing your bare ass and soaking cunt. You’ve never felt more like a total fucking whore, more at the mercy of the man you love. The fucking President. It’s not as if Jax Teller never fucked you hard before—he knows how much you like it rough—but this is just... God, it’s just different. And you cannot get enough.

He deals your ass a ruthless smack, then twines his fingers in your hair to pull your head violently back. Latches his mouth around your gasping neck. Licking and biting hard, scratching you up with savage marks to last this week into the next, the battle scars of this intensely epic sex. As he teases his throbbing cock against the desperate burning heat between your legs, you know Jax wants to hear you beg.

You cry out in excruciating bliss as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your tits, your sides, your hips, scratching lines all across your back. “God, fuck me, Jax...”

He wraps one hand around your neck, just as the other slaps your ass again. “That what you want, Y/N?”

“Fuck—yes...” you whimper as he rubs his raging cock against your cunt, slicking it up with all your juices; you can hear him groaning out in satisfaction at the feeling of your wetness, just before he plunges deep inside and fucks you dry, till it feels like you’ve literally died. “Just... please, Jax, fucking fuck me up...”

And that’s exactly what he does. Thick cock slamming inside you to the core in just one thrust. He clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle all your wild screams as he fulfills your wildest dreams. Your senses blur into a mess of pain and pleasure, worn out leather scraping up against your skin, as you and your king drown together in a sea of shameless sin, as he pumps in and out and then—fuck, even deeper in—hitting spots so deep inside you no one’s ever fucking been, not even him. He’s never done such fucking damage. Never been so fucking savage.

In a matter of seconds, you end up cumming just about a hundred times harder than your body can even fucking manage. You are ruined, in ways you could never have imagined. Unable to fathom what just fucking happened. Utterly and absolutely fucking ravaged.

Jax keeps his cock buried inside you long after you both are done. Because you never are, with one another. No matter how many battles you both have fought, and lost, between each other, and against the world... this is the only war that counts. The war for dominance, the struggle over who is fucking right, through all the wrongs you’ve done, the fight for pride that threatens every day to drag you down. At least until you fuck it out at night. The war that rages in your hearts, vying in vain to tear the two of you apart. The war you’ve both won, time and time again. For what feels like forever. Together.

He holds you near and murmurs in your ear, the words you always know before you hear. “I love you, Y/N.”

Still gives you butterflies, every damn time. “And I love you, Jax Fucking Teller,” you wholeheartedly reply. “Or should I call you Mr. President?”

A soft laugh whispers past his lips, resting against your cheek in an extended kiss, where his big strong body is still slumped over yours in post-orgasmic bliss. “Guess that depends. I think this patch is fucking poison. Babe, I know you never wanted this to happen—honestly, if you just say the word, right now, I’ll leave this all behind and...”

“Oh, shut up,” you interrupt. “Now’s not the time to talk like that, you fucking idiot. Whatever that patch is, I’m just—I’m addicted. You completely fucked me up, and I’m still riding high on feeling so... God, I don’t even know the word for it... corrupt?”

Your eyes randomly flicker toward the gavel on the table, as you say it. Damn, what is it with that thing...?

Jax follows the shift in your gaze, subtle though it was, able to tell where you’re looking, as always. “What is it, darlin’—got some kind of gavel kink? I thought you said it ain’t even that big...”

You smile at that as he kisses your cheek again. “That’s cause it isn’t. Nothing is, compared to your big fucking dick, Mr. President. You are my one and only kink. My one true king.”

“Mmm, well thank God for that, sweetheart...” he growls suggestively, desire stirring up within the both of you again, despite how recently you came—your body is so fucking ready, for this man to fucking ravage you again. And Jax can tell just what you want now as he finishes his sentence, set on ripping you apart. “...‘cause the President’s big dick is still inside you and already getting hard.”

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

Masterlist

Tag List – Join Here!*

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@itsme-autumn​ @rebelwrites​ @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11​

[thisisgonnafuxkinkillme]

Light Under The Door

MAJOR TW FOR SELF HARM!

Au where Deku dies oops-

Warnings: angst, self harm, main character death

You first realized something was wrong when he wore long sleeves at home as well as at work. Usually, as soon as he got through the door, he’d ditch that uncomfortable looking yellow suit and don one of his much-too-large shirts, or sometimes even just skip into his flannel pajamas. 

For a good week, though, he had been choosing to wear his loose fitting winter shirts to bed and even while he relaxed at home. 

That wouldn’t have been overly strange on its own, all except that it was in the middle of summer. 

That, and he’d always slink away when you grabbed for his wrist or sleeve. He’d pretend as if it were nothing, and you believed him. 

That was until you got home from the store a little earlier than expected. His car was outside, so he was definately home, but the house was utterly and totally silent. 

You should have at least been able to hear him clicking away at his keyboard, or sipping some tea, or watching television. 

You silently placed your bags down, approaching the bathroom door quietly. You heard quiet hisses and hiccups from just beyond the door. 

It was unlocked and open a crack. You knocked quietly, calling out to him.

“Toshi, are you alright?”

He gasped, dropping something and audibly scrambling for the door. 

He peered out of the crack and into your eyes. 

“I’m fine,” he breathed, flashing a fake smile. He tried to close the door the rest of the way, but you put your foot in between the door and the frame, stopping it. 

He didn’t fight back. As you entered the scene, he hunched himself against the wall and covered his face. All he was wearing was a pair of boxers.

Your breath hitched as you saw what was going on. Upon seeing the abandoned razorblade and tiny droplets of blood, you knew.

"Don't...don't say anything. I already know," he grimaced, shaking his head. He’d struggled with self harm before, way back in his youth, but thankfully kicked the habit. Well, for the most part. One thing he always hated was being scolded for it, or being told how utterly stupid he is for doing something so harmful to himself.

It just reminded him of how he lets them down. How he let you down. Himself.

Him.

You held back tears. It's your turn to be strong now. For him.

You firmly grabbed him by his upper arm.

"Baby, look at me. Look at me," you breathed shakily. He did so, revealing his tear stained, ashamed face. He'd been hiding this for a long while. You could tell that much by the look in his eyes and his clenched jaw.

Your heart panged. This isn't him.

"I...I know you think..." He warbled, his voice cracking before breaking again.

"I don't think anything, baby boy. It's okay. It's alright. Just breathe for a second for me, okay?"

He slumped pitifully into your embrace, letting himself sob relentlessly into your shoulder. You weren’t exactly sure what to do with his bloodied body other than hold him there, for a moment or two. 

His upper thighs, which you’d expect to be pale and pasty like the rest of his body, were instead covered in shades of reds and pinks where he had freshly harmed himself, and in browns and purples where he had allowed the lines to scar over. 

His arms, too, were covered with these sickeningly familiar scars as well as freshly bloodied lines carved across his flesh. 

He’d definitely been hiding this from you for a while. A long while, at that. 

You whispered in his ear, “Oh, baby...you don’t deserve any of this...”

He clutched at your clothes, balling up the material in his fists.

“you...you wouldn’t say that if...” he let go of you.

 He couldn’t escape it. The scream. The blood. The utter helplessness.

His face.

He hit himself in the head, trying to knock the memory out of his mind.

You grabbed both of his wrists. This utter violence would have scared you anyways, but with it directed towards someone you loved so much, it was terrifying.

“I’ve killed people! They’re dead!” he screamed.

“You didn’t kill anyone, Toshinori! What-”

“No! They-he- died right in front of me!” he sobbed, collapsing into the floor in front of you. 

He gritted his teeth. 

“I couldn’t even show my face at their...at his funeral...” 

You held in your own cry, remembering when it all happened. It was so fast. No one could have predicted it. 

In the end, the boy had saved a classmate, but at the cost of his own life. 

Toshi was at the scene, screaming for him, but it was too late. He was gone in an instant. 

For weeks afterward, he didn’t leave his bedroom. He barely ate. What he did eat was just what you’d nearly force down his throat to keep him breathing. He just laid there, in the bed you shared, with the curtains drawn and his phone turned off, for entirely too long.

It absolutely killed you to see him like this. What killed you more, though, was when the boy’s mom wouldn’t stop calling, texting, and even knocking at the door. She would sob words of forgiveness, begging you to please tell him that she wasn’t angry at him for breaking that promise they made not so long ago. To tell him that something like this would’ve happened even if they’d never met. 

To tell him that it wasn’t his fault. That she didn’t blame him.

But no matter how much she pleaded, you just couldn’t talk to him about it. Whenever you so much as brought up her name, or mentioned anything alluding to...him...Toshi would just break down.

Just like he was now. 

You took his face in both of your palms, gritting your teeth and making him look at you.

He could barely see you holding back tears of your own through his blurred eyes.

“It was not your fault.” You asserted.

“...but-“

“It was not your fault.”

“I could have... he...”

“No. You didn’t kill that boy. Nothing you could’ve done would have stopped what happened from happening.”

Toshinori looked into your eyes, replaying that scene in his mind.

He couldn’t have magically teleported in front of that car. A healing quirk, nor any amount of surgeries or doctors could have undone the severe internal damage that it caused.

It was an utter accident.

He closed his eyes, squeezing the memory out of his brain. The blood was what haunted him the most. It was everywhere. More than he’d ever seen in his entire life, even being a pro hero for a good portion of his life and seeing horrific crimes.

The boy’s eyes glazed over mere moments after the collision, not even able to speak or respond to the rush of people surrounding him. Toshi had to essentially fight his way between the hoards of onlookers to get close to him. To stroke his cheek. To tell him that it was okay to go.

That he was a hero.

That he was proud of him.

He closed his eyes, taking a shaky breath and holding your hand to his chest. Your heart ached as you noted his shaky, skinnied fingers.

“You don’t deserve any of this, honey,” you repeated, bringing his head to your chest and stroking his hair. He was done crying. He just needed you.

His breathing calmed down after a good while of keeping him there, just existing with him for these moments without criticism and without judgement.

“Toshi, can you let me clean you up a little?” You murmured. He nodded silently.

“But... please don’t... I-I... just...” he muttered as you stood up.

“I’m not going to judge you, baby. It’s okay. I’m going to make sure you didn’t go too deep, and just help the bleeding stop. I’m not going to judge you for anything,” you assured him. His lower lip quivered and he nodded again. You left, grabbing the first aid kit and a bottle of water.

First, you handed him the water, instructing him to drink. He tried to refuse at first, protesting that he was fine, but after a little coercion, he took a little sip. Later, that sip turned into thirsty gulps. The bottle was nearly empty when he was done.

He was definitely thirstier than he thought.

These days, it was easy to ignore what his body needed. Hunger passed eventually, and so did thirst, and so did pain. Rather than deal with the issue, he’d usually just ride out the discomfort. He just couldn’t find it in him to care anymore.

So, for now, you had to do it for him.

You gently inspected his wounds. You sighed with relief as you noticed that he hadn’t gone deep enough to need a trip to the hospital for stitches.

He winced as the astringent met with his raw flesh, but you were there to soothingly comfort him with gentle touches and praise.

Soon, he was all bandaged up. He looked up at you, reaching for your cheek. He mouthed a thank you before placing a tiny kiss on your other hand. You kissed him on the forehead in return, helping him stand up and walk into the bedroom, assisting him to ease under the comforter and switched off the light before joining him.

You two coiled into one another, each warming the other’s body gently. Your breaths synced up harmoniously as you both drifted into a much needed afternoon nap.

When you woke up, there was no interrogating. No demanding to know where all his razor blades were hidden. No begging him to seek therapy.

You knew what struggling was like. None of that would help in the end. It’d only push him deeper into his own darkness.

So you settled on doing what you felt that you needed when you were in the same place he was: simply being there for him, and being ready with open arms to take on his problems when he couldn’t bear them any longer.

And he couldn’t.

Not on his own, anyways.

———

The next morning, when you woke up, Toshi was waiting for you in the kitchen. He’d already made you your favorite coffee and some honeyed toast.

After you ate, he gently took your hand.

“Will you help me with something?”

You nod, smiling sweetly.

He looked away. Shame burned his soul.

“They’re hidden in the medicine cabinet, in a box all the way in the back. Please, can you... get rid of them for me?” He whispered. You nodded.

“Are there any more?” You gently question. He shook his head, sighing.

“I’m really sorry for all of this trouble I’ve put you through...” he apologized. He was trying his best to stay strong, to appear okay and unbothered, but his voice was already cracking a little.

You shake your head.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m happy I can be here for you. I’m going to go take care of that for you now, okay?”

He nodded.

———

Recovery was slow but steady. You never asked if or when he relapsed, but when he’d lock himself in the bathroom, you couldn’t help but freeze and wonder if he was hurting himself.

But soon, his scars started to heal. He began wearing t shirts again. He started to laugh a little bit more.

And finally, he took Inko’s call.

You didn’t hear their full conversation, and you didn’t wish to eavesdrop. What you did know, though, was how different he was once he hung up from that call that lasted a good three hours.

He was lighter.

It was as if he’d been carrying an earth shattering weight on his back for centuries, and finally was just able to put it down.

He slowly became himself again, the darkness fading away at the touch of the warm sunlight within him.

——

[americancowgirl19]

Gladiatrix

Summary: Bucky finds an old ally in his time of need

Warnings: Violence, fluff, angst

Reader: Female Mutant Reader

Pairings: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 2,293

A/n:

Masterlist

You hum your favorite song while dancing in the kitchen making yourself some lunch. Your dog lays by the floor while your cat sits on the counter hoping for some food. You’re just about to give into your cats pleading eyes when your dog suddenly jumps up. You turn towards him and observe his tense figure.

“What’s up, boy?” You question, walking over to the screen door leaving your sandwich vulnerable to your cat. You don’t see anything but after being around for as long as you have you can sense what’s making your dog on edge.

Reaching to the side, you hand wraps around the hilt of your short, double edged sword. Keeping your eyes trained on the tree line, you slide your arm into the leather straps of your scutum shield.

“Stay,” You order your black Molosser. He huffs obviously annoyed but listens to your order.

You slowly approach the tree line. Your trained eyes see nothing out of the ordinary but your gut tells you otherwise. You take a few steps into the woods when a bullet is fired from a gun and finds a home in the back of your shoulder. You groan stumbling a step or two forward.

Your anger begins to raise as you turn towards the shooter. In less than a minute the bullet pops out of your body and your skin reconnects. The shooter lowers his weapon a smidge taken back by the fact that your not showing more signs of pain.

A sly smirk comes to your lips as you launch your Gladius sword through the air. He drops to the ground, your sword sticking up from his forehead. You sense someone behind you and quickly turn. Your body hides behind the shield as more gunshots are fired. You back up to your sword and rip it from the corpse. 

Running towards your opponent, using your shield to cover you, you switch from defense to offence. You move the shield to the side and slide his neck open. Another man comes up behind you. You swing your shield around and knock him off his feet. You sword comes down on his neck.

You quickly hide behind the shield once more as another man shoots at you. The bullets bounce off of your shield. When you’re close enough your sword decapitate’s his head.

Once his body falls to the ground, the woods become silent once again. You scan the area around you, especially the trees. No one seems to be around but you whistle for your dog who is almost instantly by your side.

“Search,” You command. He bounces from one body to another and searches for anybody else. While he searches you inspect the closest dead body. All of them are wearing tactical armor with a familiar sigil.

Your snapped out of your thoughts by the deep barking of your dog. You’re quick to jog over to his side. What you see surprises you.

“Bucky?” You whisper. You kneel in front of his unconscious form. He looks different from the 1940′s but you know it’s him. You quickly assess his injuries and know he needs medical attention. “Carry,” You had the sword to your dog, who takes it carefully in his mouth.

Slinging Bucky’s arm over your shoulder, you haul him up. His feet drag along the ground as you take him into your home. Once he’s inside you’re sure to lock down the house, not wanting any intruders to try something stupid.

You take off his vest and shirt. You instantly notice the metal arm and the wounds on his sides. You address everything he needs fixed before cleaning up.

“What has life done to you?” You whisper to yourself. You keep watch as he sleeps. You don’t sense anybody else coming but you know that Hydra doesn’t just give up.

Bucky doesn’t wake up until late at night. It’s near midnight when he groans waking up. You grab him some water and lift his head up. He tiredly sips before pulling away. 

It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. Eventually, his eyes settle on you.

“Where am I?” He whispers.

“Middle of nowhere, West Virginia,” You tell him. 

“What happened?”

“Well, you were bleeding out about half a mile from here. Surrounded by Hydra soldiers,” He instantly tenses. “They’re taken care of,” You assure him.

“More will come,”

“Then we’ll take care of them,” You say, shrugging. “We’ll keep cutting off all their heads till no more wanna grow back,”

Bucky’s quiet for a couple moments.

“Do you know who I am?” You ask, curious if he remembers you.

“Y/n Y/l/n,” He states.

“You know my name... but do you know me?” You question. “We knew each other back in the day, World War Two,” You explain. “I aided you and your Howling Commando’s more than once. More recently I’ve been aiding your pal, Steve,”

“Is he here?”

“No, not entirely sure where he is at the moment,” You answer, curious as to why he seemed to relax at that thought. “Well, you have a couple broken ribs, some nasty bruises on your arm and some deep cuts. I suggest you hang out here until you can get up and moving again,”

“I’ll just put you in danger the longer I stay,” Bucky shakes his head, attempting to sit up. You press a firm hand on his shoulder.

“At this point, danger’s my middle name,” You smirk. Bucky frowns his eyebrows. “You really don’t remember much, do you?” Bucky looks away from you. “I’ve been around for a long time, trouble is going to find me whether you’re here or not,” You explain. “Get some rest. When you’re hungry, I’m in the kitchen,”

You didn’t see Bucky until well into the afternoon the next day. He doesn’t say much but you feed him and give him space.

“You said you knew me in the war... Shouldn’t you be a little older?” Bucky asks after staying with you for about a week.

“I was wondering when you’d ask,” You smirk, sitting across from him in the kitchen. “Do you know what a mutant is?” Bucky nods. “Well, that’s what I am. Immortality, a little bit of extra strength, and a kick ass healing system,”

“How long have you been around?” Bucky asks.

“Ancient Rome,” You tell him. “I was born about 50 years before Christ. I was one of the few Gladiator women. I was a high born that was sick of the politics and the parties and being told how I should live my life the proper way,”

“So, you become a Gladiator?” Bucky arches an eyebrow. You smirk.

“What better way to say ‘screw you’ to your parents than becoming a Gladiator?” Bucky smiles just a bit. “Got good quick, got famous even quicker. Next thing I know I’m not aging. I’m been in just about every war you can think of and in move trouble than you can fathom,”

“What do you do now?”

“Fight,” You shrug. “Don’t have much else. Fighting, war, it’s all I am,” You tell him softly. “It’s the only thing I’m good at, the only thing I’m useful for,” A slightly tense silence falls between the two of you. “What about you? It’s been a while since I last saw you,”

Bucky doesn’t open up right away but he gives you a short summary. Throughout his stay, he opens up more about you as he begins to trust you more. The longer he stays with you, the longer you’re able to jog his memory about the past. It’s obvious he’s experienced horrors since you last saw him.

If there’s one thing you know, it’s how the horrors of the past can haunt you. Even after all these years you’re not an expect in managing them but you try. Being a light sleeper means you wake up every time Bucky does. You’re in his room the instant you hear the screams. 

You either help coax him back to sleep or you help him stay awake. You never pressure him to tell you, you go at his pace. More often than not, he refuses to go back to sleep. So, you help him take his frustrations and fear out during sparing matches.

While you have a little bit more strength than a human, thanks to your mutation, Bucky is stronger through the serum. However, after fighting wars for the last 2,000 years, you’re more experienced and have a few more tricks up his sleeve to make the matches interesting.

After being with you for 6 months, spending the night in Bucky’s room becomes the new normal. Neither of you particularly like being alone, Bucky especially. Since you’ve practically moved into the same room, the both of you sleep better.

However, nothing good last forever, and eventually Hydra finds Bucky. The two of your work together to eliminate the threat but at the cost of your home. Knowing you need to get moving, you pack up whatever you can and move on. (Your dog and cat in tow)

By some miracle you convince Bucky to go to Steve. It only took you three month’s on the run to convince him. He was obviously nervous but you refused to leave his side.

Steve was shocked to see not only Bucky but you as well. You explain everything to Steve as Bruce looks over Bucky. Moving in with the Avenger’s wasn’t easy but you both slowly eased into the transition.

You stay by Bucky’s side the entire time. It takes him almost 6 months to slowly become unglued to your side. Once you notice him becoming more comfortable around the other’s you begin to wonder how much longer you’ll stick around.

Fighting on a team isn’t exactly your forte. You could work with a team but you knew you were better on your own. However, you just couldn’t bring yourself to leave Bucky, not until you were positive he didn’t need you anymore.

About a year after you and Bucky come to the Avenger’s, you decide it’s finally time for you to move on. Bucky’s set a routine with the group and you can’t help but to feel extremely out of place.

“Going somewhere?” You glance up and see Natasha standing in the doorway with your cat in her arms. You smirk at the sight before looking back at your packing.

“Somewhere,” You shrug a bit. “Not sure where,”

“Why leave?” Natasha asks.

“Just have too,” You tell her. “I’m not a spy, I’m not an agent, I’m a warrior with no war,” You say. “So, I’m gonna move on until I find somewhere that can use my expertise,” 

“You know, the Avenger’s do more than just spy,” Natasha says.

“This place... It isn’t more me, Nat,” You tell her. “I’m going crazy here, I gotta keep moving,”

“Have you told, Barnes?” She asks. You face falls a bit. “He’s not gonna want you to leave,”

“He’s going to be fine,” You tell her. “He’s found his place here, he’s found a family here, he’s home,”

“Are we not your family?” Natasha questions, sitting on the bed.

“I haven’t had a family since I was a little girl and even then I was out of place,” You tell her. “I’m starting to think there isn’t a place on this world for me,”

“Then go off world,” Natasha says. You arch an eyebrow. “Talk to Thor. He fights off world more than he does here. He loves listening to your stories and sparing with you. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind having you tag along with him,” You contemplate it. “And on your off time you can come here and see your boyfriend,” Natasha smirks.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” You defend.

“I didn’t say a name,” Natasha winks. “You should talk to Buck and then talk to Thor. We don’t want to lose you, you are family,” You offer a small smile and watch her leave the room, stealing your cat in the process.

“What do you think?” You sigh, glancing at your dog. He simply looks at you and huffs. “That’s what I’m saying,”

You take Natasha’s advice and talk to Thor. You barely finished your question before he was agreeing. He had expressed his want to bring you along knowing you were a fierce warrior.

“So, you’re gonna skip out of here?” Sighing, you slowly turn to Bucky.

“I’m not needed here anymore,” You tell him. “At least with Thor I’ll be of use,” Bucky smiles a bit.

“You still think you’re only good for fighting?” Bucky asks. You shrug a bit. “When are you going to learn your worth more?”

“When are you?” You shoot back. Bucky smiles, stepping closer.

“You are needed, I need you here,” Bucky tells you.

“You’re doing just fine, Buck,” You tell him. “You’re getting better, you’re with Steve, you’re home,”

“I’m home because you’re here,” He tells you. “I’ve only been able to get to this part because of you,”

“And not you’re going to have to continue without me,” 

“I don’t want too,” Bucky shakes his head.

“You’re going to have too,” You snip, walking around him. When you pass him, he grabs your arm and turns you to him. Before you can blink, his lips are pressed against yours.

“I don’t want too,” He whispers, to you. “I need you here, with me. We can make this work, just give it a chance,” He mutters, gently caressing the side of your face.

“I’m not good at this, Buck,” You tell him. “I’m only good at-”

“I know,” He nods. “But an old dog can learn some new tricks,” He shrugs. “Stay with me... Please,”

[dreamywriterinthedark]

Losing you pt III: Picking up the pieces

Pairing: Spencer x Reader

Category: angst, slight fluff.

Resume: Reader struggles to get over a traumatic experience and isolates themselves. They have an outburst, Spencer finds them in the middle of it and offers a helping hand.

Trigger warnings: death, blood, trauma, anger issues, alcohol (please let me know of something was forgotten)

A/N: I don’t know how I feel about this series. Let me know if you like it or what you would like to see. This is what would’ve happened if Linda Barnes was leader of the team. I’m guessing this is a bit of homage to Elle who deserved better. I would love to hear your feedback and whether you want a fourth part. Thanks <3

You slipped off your blind fold, your calmness was interrupted by the broad figure in front of your eyes. The hooded man slowly made his way towards you.

“Please, don’t kill me!” you screamed at the top of your lungs. He looked at you with such viciousness as if he was planning all the horrendous things he was going to do to you in his head. You rose up panting from another hostile episode slapping the light switch of the lamp on your nightstand.

You were on your bed completely exhausted yet wide awake. You could not allow yourself to sleep because every time you did you woke up in sweats due hallucinations and nightmares. You could not differentiate what was real and what was an illusion anymore. You walked to your kitchen pouring yourself a glass of water, your hands were so shaky you dropped the glass and flenched at the sound. By trying to pick up the pieces you cut your hand, the sight of blood on your hands brought you back to that night when you almost died and your boss hardly bat an eye.

Your vision was getting blurred whether it was your brain making you depersonalise or your tears clouding your view you couldn’t tell. You were uncontrollably sobbing. That’s when it hit you, you needed help. You hated yourself for it, it flet like you were a burden. However, you felt guilt creep in furthermore when you saw your phone light up with all the texts, all the calls you ignored making the team even more worried. You swiped the notification from your 13 missed calls making your phone call Spencer. You felt a rush go through your vein, a rush to abort whatever mission you were on, the rush to flight. The kind of rush that could’ve saved your life.

After two rings you hung up feeling stupid, now wondering if you woke him up for nothing. You slammed your phone on your kitchen counter. The anger levels spiking, overtaking the small amount of rational thoughts in your head. You sighed running your hands through your hair. Completely numb, more and more glass shattered on the floor. Once the energy was in too limited quantity in your body. You grabbed a bottle of wine chugging from it in your bathtub like a child trying to avoid family gatherings. You cried until you were too dehydrated to keep the tears flowing, until your eyes were swollen.

The ring of your doorbell caught your attention. Or was it another cruel hallucination ? You were going to ignore it until you heard it be rung once more. You checked who it was through the lense.

“Shit,” you swore, it was Spencer.

“Open the door, Y/n. I know you’re here.” you rolled your eyes at Spencer’s request your back pressed against the cold steel.

“I’m a mess.” you responded trying to dissuade him to come in.

“Your mess is my mess. I’m your home, remember ?”

You smiled detaching yourself from the door unlocking it. He pressed the handle letting his weight make the door shift open. You were brushing with a broom the glass pieces to the side to allow him to circulate safely in your apartment. He saw the blood on your floor, the bandage on your hand; he solved the puzzle himself. You turned to him, no words were needed, he saw the look in your eyes. He cupped the back of your head with one of his hands and wrapped his arm around your torso carefully, gently as if you were as fragile as fine china. You wrapped your arms around his waist breathing in his scent. He pulled away, both hands at the side of your head.

“I want to be that person you can tell anything to. The good and the bad.”

You looked up at him. “Barnes is considering suspending me because I did not follow his orders. Spencer, I had no choice…” he could hear your heart break in your voice.

“She’s not allowed to do this.” He informed you.

“She’s not ?” He nodded in response.

“She violated protocole in the first place by using governmental fund for a case too personal to him. He got his proof only by putting you in a position of danger when she needed it to act. Like you said you had no other choice. I’ve done it before, I was never reprimanded me.”

“Yeah cause you’re a man. If a man kills a rapist, he’s a hero but if a woman does it, she’s a cold-blooded crazy murderer. Gosh, I miss Emily.”

“Talk about double standards.” Spencer said, “You know, she misses you too, we all do.”

“I doubt it, honestly. I was so determined to get her validation it almost cost me my life. Maybe I should just let her know how I feel.”

“Yeah, you definitely should.”

“But what am I even gonna say to her ? What if she’s right ? What if I’m actually delusional or dangerous ?”

“Hey, hey, Y/n. Slow down.”

“Please talk some sense to me. It’s like I’m going out of my mind!”

“It wasn’t your fault. It was legitimate defence. I saw it, the whole team saw it and has your back.” he reassured you, his face closer to yours.

“Should I write her a-“

“No, you’re not doing anything tonight.” He interrupted you. “Just go take a shower then we can talk about it. Sounds good ?” you nodded to respond to him which he, as usual didn’t mind even after going on an endless monologue.

While you were in the shower, he cleaned up the mess your anger made. Once you were done, you sat down on your matcha green sofa watching the sunrise. “It’s already 4am ?! I’m so sorry for keeping you awake.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m a night owl anyways so it’s nothing out of the ordinary. Did you know that falling asleep late is linked with a high IQ ?” he said making his way to you with two cups of tea.

“Then I must be a genius.” you answered half jokingly. “Oh thank you.” you took hold of the warm but not steamy cup in your hands. You remembered Spencer once telling you that the reason why so many dislike tea is because they think it tastes like dirt, it’s not supposed taste like that, see, if the water is burning hot it’s going to burn the leaves and speed the infusion process making it too concentrated. You turned to look at him, he was already looking.

“Sometimes I wonder how you can put up with me.”

“Because I love you.” He never failed to remind you how much he loves you even especially on your worst days. You explained what had been going on, he debunked and dismantled every question pending in you head, every lie your brain told you. It felt like a weight was lifted off your shoulders. For the first time in a while, you felt safe in your own home. Instead of your alarm clock, the sound of the birds were ringing in you ears. You both agreed to go talk to Barnes to solve whatever the problem was that morning. “I’m not going down without a fight, especially not when it comes to that bitch!” Spencer boldly commented to your surprise. You weren’t healed just yet but at least you got out and socialised. At least you opened up to someone you could trust.

You stepped out of the elevator one hand holding coffee, the other holding your boyfriend’s hand. Everyone walked up to you giving you a hug and greeting you. Penelope was so enthusiastic it was overwhelming.

“Long time no see,” commented Luke. “You too,” you hugged him back.

“What happened to your hand ?” asked JJ.

“I dropped a glass.” you nervously responded, you were telling the truth…at least part of it.

“Welcome back!” said Tara squeezing an embrace as well.

“Oh I don’t know about that just yet.” you said to her.

“We need to talk to Barnes first.” added Spencer.

“Whatever happens, we’re with you, Y/n” said Garcia. The others agreed, it felt good to be supported, so much you regret isolating yourself for so long.

Silence made its way into a conversation that was once filled by joy. You threw your coffee in the trash can before turning your body towards his office. Spencer, resting his hand on your back, asked “Are you ready, darling ?” You took in a deep breath sharply, nodding your head yes without taking your gaze off the door.

[pet-genius]

Excerpt from an old fic - "The Snapes' Last Christmas"

Hogwarts, December, before the Christmas break, before the Courtyard scene, Severus’s 5th year

“Why do I hear rumours that you’re going to stay here over Christmas?” Lily asked Severus in mock-outrage.

“That depends, Lil. Is Potter leaving for Christmas?” He answered her with an earnest question.

“’Course he is,” she told him.

“Then I am staying. I’ll finally get some actual studying done in this place.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, Sev!” Lily pleaded with him. “Who wants to be at school over Christmas break? It’s time to be with family!”

Good one, Severus thought to himself. “You haven’t been to Christmas at our house, though, have you?”

Lily looked down. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… Come home for me!”

For a change, refusing her came easy. “Why don’t you stay here?” He asked his friend.

“No way. My parents will kill me. And I miss the little Muggle town! Come on!”

Lily might have had something to miss over there; Severus did not. The only place worse than school was home, and with Potter gone, school wouldn't be that bad.

“Drop it, Lily, I’m not spending another Christmas with Tobias asking why I didn’t bring him anything from that good-for-nothing wanker wizarding town when he doesn’t send me any money. You have fun though.”

She looked hurt. “So that’s it? You’re leaving me alone with Petunia?” It was not a welcoming prospect.

“What about all your Muggle friends?” He asked her, not without a note of bitterness. “Why don’t you spend your break with them?”

That’s great, Lily thought to herself. He was just trying to make her beg him to come, and she knew it.

“Well, I can’t tell them about magic, for one. Two, my parents told everyone I’m going to some posh private boarding school, and we don’t learn any Muggle subjects here and all my friends will expect me to be clever and I will feel like an idiot. Three, they’ll all want to talk about movies and records, and I haven’t seen a movie or heard a record in ages. Don’t you miss it at all? The movies?”

She doesn’t get it, does she? “Hey Tobias, can I get some money to go to the movies with my freak witch friend, please? How do you expect this to work out, Lil?” She forgot, sometimes, how awful he was. Good for her, Severus thought. Then she suggested he use magic, as if he was stupid to not have thought of it before.

“You can try Summoning his wallet, the last time I tried that I was limping for a week.”

Lily started to look exasperated, or maybe Severus imagined it. “Then I’ll get my mum to buy you tickets. Come on, is this what this is about? Money? Because we can study at my house, you know, mum and dad will be pleased.”

Severus did not need her charity. He wasn’t the one so desperate to go to the movies.

“Just ask Potter to spend Christmas with you. He’ll fly his stupid Nimbus 1000 across the entire United Kingdom for you twice, I reckon.”

Why does he have to tease me about James? It’s not my fault he fancies me. It’s not like I like his stupid stunts.

“Maybe Malfoy will give you a couple of Sickles, if you don’t tell him it’s so that you can go to the movies with a big Mudblood!”

Why are we fighting? She is the one who came to me!

“I don’t think you’re a mudblood, Lily, stop it,” he told her. Besides, Lucius had been busy. The last time Lucius had written him was weeks ago, and even that letter was really short. Lucius had been learning fascinating magic, though, so who could blame him? Much more useful than the rubbish they were teaching Severus at Hogwarts, he reckoned. There was magic out there he could really use, and he could not wait to use it all on Tobias… on the glorified trolls that made it their job to make his life as miserable as possible…

Lily noticed he was no longer in the same conversation as her. “A knut for your thoughts?”

“Nothing, honest.”

“So you’ll come?” She asked him. “Please? Pretty please? We don’t have to go to the movies. We don’t have to do anything. I just want you home with me.” She looked at him with a devilish spark in her eyes and almost sung: “and it will drive Petunia crazy.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yes!” Lily exclaimed, and kissed him on the cheek. “I knew I could count on you!”

She ran off to join a group of giggling girls. Shocked, Severus remained where he was and touched his hot cheek. Currents ran up and down his body. Now he had to go. You’re good, Evans, he thought.

Spinner’s End, Christmas Eve, Severus’s fifth year

Of course, Tobias did not let Severus go to the Evanses for Christmas dinner. It'd been like that every year - a Christmas dinner with no decorations, with no guests, with his mother looking especially miserable (of course, this year he knew why). Every year, it was only the three Snapes sitting there while Tobias angrily barked at them to look happy. Not that he ever looked happy - he looked drunk. And mean.

“My own son wants to spend Christmas Eve with the redhead freak uptown and my own wife can’t be cheerful on this holy day to save her life.” Great, Tobias has something to say. He never shuts up.

“You know, they invited us. All of us. Even you. It was very nice of them, and it was very rude of us not to come,” Severus said. He knew his cheek would cost him, but he didn’t care.

“Rude, am I? They only invited us to show off their posh house, again, you idiot.” Just because they are not dirt poor does not make them “posh”, Severus thought. His father did not even know what posh was. But Severus did - he’d been to the Malfoy Manor.

“They invited us because Lily is my friend, Tobias!” Severus shouted - better go down for the dragon than for the egg.

“I am your father, Severus, your only father, and I certainly don’t want to spend Christmas with yet another abomination!” He waved his knife and fork ominously. “You and your useless mother are bad enough without that little pest running around my house, eating my food, stealing my belt. Don’t think I didn’t know about that, you wanker.”

Now he made Severus angry - well, angrier. “You don’t know anything, Tobias, she is a witch, not a common Muggle thief, she Vanished it!”

Tobias saw weakness, and he pounced. Even when drunk, he was good. An understanding smile spread across his revolting face. He looked like he just got his Christmas present. “She is too pretty for you, you know. She will outgrow you. I’ll bet the house she won’t know who you are by this time next year. She’ll vanish your knob before she comes near it. Pretty girls like her don’t go for gormless, ugly gits like you.”

Right where it hurts. He was that transparent, was he? And who was Tobias to call anyone else ugly? I hate you so much, Tobias.

“Do you ever shut up, Tobias? Or will you actually drop dead if you don’t shout at us? Can you not be a perfect arsehole for once in your life?”

They were nearly hook nose to hook nose, and there was nothing in either of their pairs of black eyes but hatred.

Tobias started undoing his new belt.

“Dinner is over,” he said with one of his special heinous smiles he saved just for his family, and as far as Severus was concerned, dinner could not end soon enough. Eileen hid her face behind her hands. “Don’t, Toby, please, I beg you. Let’s just eat,” she said. But since when did asking nicely get you anywhere in this house?

Severus was getting too big to kick around, but Eileen was getting smaller every year, if anything. Severus managed to run away with minimal damage, but his mother did not. She never even tried.

Moments later, Severus was in his mildewy room, listening to a symphony of plates breaking, Tobias shouting profanities, and the belt cracking.

Not one of your best ideas, Lily, he thought miserably, wondering if she was thinking about him at all.

He stayed awake, because he knew what was about to happen. Tobias would fall asleep and then he and his mother would finally have a moment of peace together. Since he was home, he figured he might as well ask her a few questions.

Sure enough, she quietly made her way to her son’s room as soon as Tobias started to snore.

“He’s a right bastard, you know that, right?” He asked her, as soon as she came in.

“You shouldn’t provoke him, Severus.” She struggled to make her way to his bed and sat with a wince. “I can’t help it, Mum. How can you let him treat you like that?”

“Never mind that now, love. Help your mum. You remember the healing spells you used last year, don’t you?” Severus nodded. “My clever boy. You’re a natural, you know.”

“Hmmm,” Severus grunted as he focused on performing the healing spells on his mother. He watched the swelling go down and the bruises melt away. There was a limit to what he could do with charms alone. If only he had some dittany or murtlap on him… Then you should have thought of that before you let Lily drag you into this miserable holiday.

Then his mother said, “All better. I’m glad you came home, Severus.”

“I ought to have fought him off you.”

“Don’t. I’m glad you didn’t. I’m proud of you. It hurts me more when he does it to you, you know that.”

She got up with effort; the bastard must have got her in places she didn’t want to let her son see.

“Are you going to go to a Muggle hospital, at least?”

“I don’t think so, no. I don’t like hospitals. I’ll be fine.”

He knew, he just knew, she was hiding something from him, and he’s had it. “Mum, I know why you can’t do magic.”

If she had any colour left in her face, she would have lost it there and then. “How?” She asked him, mortified.

“They have old Prophets at Hogwarts, you know.” She gulped. She remembered how the Prophet had told the story, and it was not good - ‘St. Mungo’s experimentalist Eileen Prince kills entire family on Christmas’, she believed, was the exact subtle wording they'd used.

“I’m sorry.” She said, choked up. “I should have told you sooner, Sevy, I’m sorry.”

There was only one thing Severus wanted to know. Well, two.

“If you did this, they deserved it. It’s just… how much worse can they be than him.” His head jerked in the direction of the snoring. “And why won’t you kill him, mum, I mean it.”

Her eyes were wet. Severus hadn’t seen her cry in years.

“They did not deserve it. They were wonderful. It was all my fault, Severus. I didn’t mean it.” She drew a laboured breath and wiped her eyes dry.

“Have you learned about Felix Felicis yet?” She asked him. The official curriculum hadn’t covered the lucky potion yet, but Severus knew what it was.

When she was done with her tale, her son understood everything.

*****

Sitting in the Headmaster’s office, Professor Severus Snape figured since it was almost Christmas, after all, he might as well use a Christmas memory to produce his Patronus. In his mind, he carefully avoided stepping on the landmines of memory that could extinguish even the strongest Patronus, and focused on Lily’s singing voice telling him that “it will drive Petunia crazy” and how she had kissed him on the cheek, and he sent the Doe Patronus to lead her son to the Sword.

[burnedbyshoto]

before you go

— Before you go, tell me this meant something to you. —

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pairing: todoroki shouto x reader

warnings: angst, open ending

word count: 1,668

a/n: inspired by the song, before you go by lewis capaldi. I was listening to it at 2 am on repeat one night, seconds from bed, and I had to write this. feel free to listen to the song on repeat while reading this :D

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“Is this yours?”

The words were soft, nothing too loud—a mere whisper of a word in the slowly emptying room.

“Um… no, that’s yours. I have mine in our… in the room.”

A silence wrapped around the two figures standing in this slowly clearing room. Two people both resisting to look at one another and maybe had they, maybe had they looked into each other’s red-tinted eyes, they would have known that this was hurting them so much.

Shouto nodded his head, slowly placing the charger into a cardboard box, and you did everything to swallow the stabbing sobs rising in your throat.

Two weeks ago, both of you had gotten into a small disagreement. It wasn’t out of the ordinary, a simple fight that was routine for interacting humans. It hadn’t been ugly; there had been no yelling, no fighting, no negativity. It was solely a difference between two people. But when the dust settled, there was something different, something that made the night awkward and the morning tense. 

Neither one of you could figure it out, and neither of you addressed it.

But days were carried on, neither of you addressing the tremor in the air, the tension that rotted your brain, and his. That is, until last night when he looked up from his plate during dinner. It had been a long, tiresome day at work, yet both of you still returned home for dinner as you always did. He had looked up at you, his grey and blue eyes for the first time since that disagreement finally awaken. They weren’t dull, they were clear as the ocean after a storm, and they burned into you without hesitation.

“Do you still love me?” he had asked, his voice unwavering, his hands grasping his chopsticks so tightly - as if he didn’t want to know the answer.

The words had struck you unexpectedly.

There was no refuting that you hadn’t seen this coming because the food that had been traveling to your mouth had slowly fallen back to your plate, and your jaw remained open. Whether it was because of shock or from the dropped food, you had no idea. But those words felt like they should have been dark, they should have twisted and festered within you. They should have made you absolutely and entirely horrified. 

Still, it did nothing to stop the small, questioning, “what did you say?” from spilling past your lips while the both of you continued to stare at each other.

Shouto’s tongue poked out of his lips, his clear sight fogged for a bit, dropping to his plate before he shook his head slightly, clearing the thoughts in his head - clearing the twisted fog that threatened to return.

“Do you still love me?” he repeated, his grip relaxed, and his hands gently placed onto the table. Nothing was threatening about his posture, nothing to elicit the fear pulsing through your spine, but you calmed quickly.

“How could I not?” was your automatic response.

It was instinctual.

Of course, you loved your boyfriend of almost four years?! Todoroki Shouto was someone you knew you could never replace, and you knew that you loved him… right?

“What do you love? Why do you love me?” he questioned, but there was no bite to his tone. There was nothing to his words that made you feel like he was attacking you - there was only pure curiosity. Just a man who wanted to know why his partner was in love with him, but it sealed your throat off for some reason. Your brain was not working.

Your shared apartment seemed to creak in the canyon sized silence between the two of you. Your heart hammering in your throat, the anxiety in your stomach pooling to every centimeter of your body, and your mind raced a mile a millisecond.

You loved Shouto.

You did! You loved him so much!

You loved him because… 

Because…

“I loved you. I loved you with everything I had, but I think… I think that I don’t love you anymore, y/n.” your heart lodged in your throat at those words, it tore your heart into shreds for some reason - even if you had suspected the same thing. But Shouto’s eyebrows furrowed, his gaze lowering as he continued. “I can’t tell you why, but I’ve been thinking a lot about why things between you and me haven’t felt right. You mean more to me than anyone in this world could ever mean, but I’ve realized that I’ve fallen out of love with you.”

“Oh.”

A truth you didn’t want to recognize.

“I’m sorry.”

A lie you had to accept.

The two of you continued to stare at your unfinished plates of dinner, the cold soba you had prepared for that night going untouched for the rest of the night, scraped off the plates and into the trash, the moment the both of you decided to stop trying to eat.

He had taken to the sofa that night, leaving you in the bed the both of you had chosen two years ago. It was decided that he would be the one to move out and find a new apartment, he said that you deserved to stay in the apartment more than him, in the meantime, Bakugou and Midoriya had been willing to take him in. You couldn’t find the energy to argue the opposite, numbly agreeing as the both of you parted for bed, time-freezing with your parting backs.

Sleep never took you that night, but the memories of you and Shouto vividly and repetitively recycled through your head. Every moment, every little thing playing through your head like a movie until you were sobbing into the pillow, trying to muffle the painful cries that bruised your ribs. Your cries didn’t stop until you had to realize that within the last four months, both of you had stopped trying to be romantic, had stopped acting like you were in love, and suddenly all of this made sense. 

But it was too late.

He was no longer in love with you, and this was the price you were going to pay.

So here you were, watching Shouto packing up his belongings - erasing himself from this apartment until it looked like there had been no one but you here. But cruelly, memories of the two of you played before your eyes as he stood up, the box in his arms full and ready to go.

This was the last of his things.

Shouto didn’t talk to you, his eyes stupidly avoiding yours as he dumped the box onto the others.

His entire life comfortably fitting into four boxes, and yet to you; you wanted to scream at him that there was more that he needed to collect. His worldly possessions fit into those four boxes, but what about everything else? How were you supposed to live here with his scent bleeding into every corner of the apartment? How were you supposed to heal when your mind would play tricks to make him seem like he was still here even though you knew he wasn’t? How were you supposed to continue without him?

“I’ll be down in five. Did you bring anyone else?” Shouto asked into his phone, and nauseating fire erupted into your throat.

This was it.

Frozen in place, you could barely process when Bakugou and Midoriya showed up. Their gazes avoided both you and Shouto at all cost after they greeted you, the awkward tension, and sympathy in their auras almost as overwhelming as the memories that still held a vice grip on your throat.

Bakugou had stormed out of the apartment with a box in his arms in less than twenty seconds of being invited into the apartment, hot on Midoriya’s heels, who was carrying two boxes. It left only you and Shouto.

Shouto wordlessly picked up the box, his back still to you, his gaze purposefully not on you.

And he was walking to the door, his form stiff and his right hand twitched - as it always did when he was upset.

“Before you go,” your voice suddenly shouted, the grave desperation to your tone shocking the both of you. “Can I… can I ask you something?”

Shouto stilled in the doorway, one foot out of the apartment, one in still.

Slowly, he turned around, his gaze set on you, the quiet strongness that you always knew to be Shouto for the first time felt artificial. He nodded, his hands shifting on the box.

Time had stilled again.

Your heart hammered in your ears; you didn’t even have a question to ask. There was nothing in your brain that you could muster that would make things better, that would make you feel better. Still, your lips moved, and words followed suit.

“Was there… was there something different that I could have said to make things better? To make you feel loved?” was your weak attempt to save everything.

This was a Hail Mary, a stupid, feeble attempt to get him to stay.

You loved Todoroki Shouto, and stupidly, hopefully, you believed he still did too.

Straightening up, your eyes met his unreadable ones, and you walked over to him, your mind set, and a will to give it your all.

“Because I still… I still fucking love you, and I know that I haven’t shown it in months, but I do. I would do anything for us, and I know that you want to end things - you did end things - but I’m still… If this is something that has no chance ever again, I’ll drop it.” your hands met his cheeks, and your eyes burned into his unreadable ones. “But if there is a slim chance we could love each other again, I want to know.

“Before you go… I need to know.”

Time picked back up when words passed his lips, and you were helpless to the tears that streamed down your face.

[vizhi0nw]

Confidence

Pairing: Porco/OC/Reiner

Warnings: NSFW - oral (male/female receiving) handjobs, threesome, face riding.

Words: 4k

I’ve never written a fic for SNK before but I decided...why not. I hope I did Porco and Reiner justice. This is just smut with some backstory and feels (Reiner needs a big hug)

                                                          ---

“Reiner always looks so....sad,” Samira murmured into Porco’s ear. “Like he’s got a lot of thoughts cooped up in his head and doesn’t know how to let them out.”

Porco hummed absently. He, like Samira, couldn’t take his eyes off Reiner. The tall blonde was listening to Zeke speak with half-hearted enthusiasm, his posture slack and his head tilted to one side. His entire demeanor, the entire act screamed discontent. Like he’d given up even attempting to take pointers from Zeke and was instead more interested in the little line of fire ants crawling across the dirt next to the heel of his shoe. 

Samira and Porco were a little ways away, cooped up on a rickety wooden bench, away from the training ground. It was tucked away, secluded, and in the shade - it was the perfect little metaphor for her relationship with Porco, Samira mused. Tucked away. Secluded. She was well aware that people knew she and Porco were together, but it wasn’t something Porco had yet to feel comfortable flaunting in front of Zeke or the other warriors - though, Samira knew he’d like nothing more than to rub it in the Jeager’s face - for reasons she had yet to uncover. 

When Samira looked at Porco, his eyes were still trained on Reiner. His brow was furrowed, lips pulled taut into a line. It was one of the very few times Samira couldn’t read him, and it always seemed to happen when he was gazing at the blonde Warrior who had been a source of flickering ire in his life for as long as Samira could remember. 

She leaned up and gently kissed the exposed skin of Porco’s neck before nipping at his earlobe. “First Reiner, now you. Why the face?”

“He doesn’t have anything to be sad about. Not after I saved his ass on the battlefield,” Porco murmured. “I don’t know what goes on in that brick of a head of his.”

“Maybe you - we - should ask.”

“Maybe I don’t want to know,” Porco turned back to face Samira. “I’d much rather think about what’s going on in your head than his.”

“You already know because I tell you,” Samira giggled as Porco’s mouth covered her own, his kisses quick and demanding but to the point and oh-so arden - all him. When he pulled away, Samira tilted her head in Reiner’s direction. “We should talk to him. I know you don’t like to admit it to yourself, but you’re his friend.”

Porco snorted. “Yeah, sure.”

“Pock.”

“Friends on the battlefield, acquaintances off,” Porco replied. “If you insist on talking to him, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” 

Samira didn’t have to go far. Reiner was already heading towards them, his expression the same as before, though a bit less forlorn. Samira gently separated herself from Porco, leaving her partner to sit, arms crossed and with a sour expression on his face.

“Did Zeke chew you out too badly?” Samira inquired.

Reiner shrugged. “Not...as badly as he normally does. What I did on the battlefield was stupid. Reckless. I understand that now.”

“You’re back safe. That’s all that really matters,” Samira said softly. Reiner’s eyes widened a bit, and he nodded his head robotically. Samira could see the flush creeping up his neck to his cheeks, and she was glad Porco had decided to focus his attention on a browning blade of grass. 

Reiner, bless him, had always been terrible at hiding the fact that he was rather enamored with Samira. More than once, Samira had caught him gazing at her with half-lidded eyes, and he always seemed hesitant to approach, especially when Porco was around. Reiner wasn’t one to exacerbate tension, and Samira was positive he’d been spending prior months trying to crush whatever feelings he had for Samira with the same force and drive he used to crush enemies on the battlefield as the Armored Titan. To Reiner, Samira was unobtainable.

Perhaps his sadness was a byproduct of that. Samira wasn’t sure, but she felt she owed it to Reiner - he was a kind man, and his sense of duty rivaled that of Porco. He’d been one of the few people who had stuck up for Samira when Zeke had made it very clear that he harbored no fondness towards her. He was also heavily burdened with emotions from his experiences on Paradis, something Porco had only told her about in passing. Whatever had happened, whatever Reiner had done or seen, had changed him. 

“I’m back, but at what cost?” Reiner murmured. “I...I shouldn’t burden you with my problems, Sam. I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. I just noticed that you seemed upset. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m available. So is Porco, to be honest. I know he’s an ass but he does care about you,” Samira glanced back towards her partner. “Bottling things up isn’t healthy. Trust me, I know.”

Reiner let out a long sigh. He seemed as if he wanted to talk further, but pulled himself away. “I appreciate that.”

Samira squeezed his arm as he walked past. She felt him stiffen beneath her touch, briefly, before his stride increased and he almost hurried away. Porco finally lifted his head to watch Reiner disappear back inside, once again sporting that same unreadable expression as before. 

One day, Samira would figure out what that expression meant.

                                                         ---

Porco squeezed out the sponge, letting a cascade of hot, soapy water run down the smooth expanse of Samira’s back. 

He felt content to just look at her like she was his prize, which she was. His greatest prize, more important and valuable than any victory on the battlefield. More important than Marley itself, though Porco could never bring himself to admit it to anyone other than Samira. 

Porco leaned forward and kissed her shoulder, one hand running across deep brown skin as she leaned back to rest against him. The thick, tightly packed coils of hair on her head were wet, washed, and smelled like mint. The water of the bath was still the perfect temperature, soothing Porco’s sore limbs and making him wish he could just last in this moment forever. 

He knew it would have to end, eventually. He didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to think about Samira and how her soft, flexible fingers were massaging the skin of his thigh -

“We should do something to help Reiner out,” Samira hummed. “He’s upset. I can tell. He needs...something. Help. I don’t know-”

“Talk to Zeke about it. Have him deal with it.”

Samira barked a laugh. “Me? Talk to Zeke?”

She was right. It was a dumb suggestion, and Porco internally cursed himself for not spouting out Pieck’s name instead. Zeke harbored nothing but negative feelings towards Samira, born most likely out of envy. Porco had something that he didn’t. 

Porco sighed and reclined back further in the bath. “Stupid suggestion, I know.”

Samira turned, sitting up a bit to straddle Porco’s hips. He groaned - she was tantalizingly close to him, his cock resting languidly against her inner thigh. He tried not to think about it while she began to speak. 

“The way you look at him sometimes...it confuses me.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can usually read you like the back of my hand,” Samira murmured. “When you look at Reiner sometimes, I can’t read you. It’s like I’m back to when we first met - you had that same expression on your face when you looked at me. Like you didn’t know what to feel, how to feel.”

“I know how I feel about Reiner,” Porco didn’t even believe those words as they tumbled out. He grit his teeth and ducked his head, waiting for Samira to catch his flub. She didn’t. Like she usually did, she waited for him to compose himself, gave him time, before speaking. 

“You don’t always have to rush into things head-on, Pock. Much less your emotions. I know you think of...of Marcel, when you see him. I know how much it hurts.”

It brought Porco comfort that she did know, empirically so, as she’d lost two of her own siblings to war. She wasn’t just saying it as a pity response. The wounds were raw, real, and deep. Samira herself had yet to heal from hers, either, though she’d made a far better effort than Porco knew he had. 

She was better than him. So much better than him. Porco knew deep down he didn’t deserve someone like her. 

“Both of my brothers died saving me,” Samira whispered. “I knew I wasn’t fit for the battlefield, that I was weak, but I enlisted anyway and they paid for it.”

Porco gripped her arms almost instinctively, holding her tightly and hissing, “You are not weak-” 

“I was weak, Porco. I couldn’t do what needed to be done because I was scared. I told everyone I wasn’t. I pretended to be brave and capable,” Samira’s hands reached up to cradle Porco’s face. “Reiner was a child. You were all children.”

Porco leaned forward and rested his head against Samira’s shoulder. He kissed her damp skin, her shoulder, her neck, before kissing his way up her jaw and finally, her lips. 

“We can...we can try something. To help,” Porco whispered. “Just- fuck - just tell me what you want to do.”

                                                        ---

“Are you sure he’ll agree to this?” Porco dug his thumb into the tight muscle between Samira’s neck and shoulder, casually massaging out a knot beneath the skin. Samira hummed and tilted her head to the side, eyes fluttering shut. 

“I think he will.”

It didn’t take long for Reiner to arrive, shuffling into the room rather awkwardly before closing the door behind him. He looked between Porco and Samira, confusion etched across his face. 

“You wanted to see me?”

“Obviously,” Porco’s tone was smooth and curt. “We called you here, didn’t we?”

 “For what?”

Before Samira could explain, Porco spoke. There was a glint in his eye, and a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He kept a hand steady on Samira’s shoulder, his thumb now stroking patterns against her skin. “You know, Braun, you’re incredibly bad at hiding the way you look at Sam. Eye-fucking another man’s girl across a room isn’t exactly the brightest idea, considering who that man is.”

Reiner sputtered and Samira’s eyes widened at Porco’s words. She reached over to swat his chest, but he caught her wrist, his smile widening. 

“I should beat the shit out of you right now for that,” Porco said. “But I won’t. Instead, I’ll indulge you.”

“W-what do you mean?” Reiner’s adams apple bobbed as he gulped, eyes darting between Samira and Porco. 

“You want to fuck her?” Porco said. 

Reiner didn’t reply. Porco asked again, this time slower.

“I said, do you want to fuck her, Braun?”

“You can say yes,” Samira interrupted. “That’s why you’re here - to answer your question.” 

Reiner’s fingers fell away from where they’d been hovering over the doorknob, though they drifted back up when Porco instructed him to turn the lock. The blonde took slow, methodical steps across the room, coming to stop before Samira. His hands were shaking a bit as he reached out to clasp her face between his big hands. Samira began working at the buttons of his shirt, peeling the cloth away to reveal rippling muscles underneath. 

“I - thank you,” Reiner said.

“Just kiss her, you brute,” Porco rolled his eyes. 

While Porco’s kisses were demanding, Reiner’s were almost needy - like he’d never had them before and wanted more. He and Porco both worked to undress Samira, tossing her clothes away without a care as to where they landed in the room. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Porco moaned against Samira’s hair. 

Reiner nodded frantically, before gasping as he was wrestled onto the bed by two pairs of hands. 

“This is for you,” Samira murmured against his lips. She worked on undoing his belt, sliding it off and letting it clatter to the wooden floor. She spread her fingers before curling them around his clothed cock, palming him through his trousers. Reiner writhed against the sheets, bare chest heaving. His eyes travelled from Samira, to Porco, who was yanking his own shirt over his head. 

He was already hard when Samira pulled his pants and undergarments down past his hips and off his legs. His dick was impressive in girth and length, and Samira brushed her palm across the head as she crawled up to kiss him once more. She heard Porco aggressively ridding himself of his own pants, the bed dipping as he joined the duo. 

Samira pulled away and licked a stripe across his collarbone before resuming her journey down his chest, Sweat was beading on Reiner’s brow as he propped herself up to look down at Samira as she gave his cock a few tugs before pushing the head past her lips. 

Reiner’s thighs tensed. Samira felt a hand gently stroke her hair - Porco - as she slid down further on his cock. 

“Ah,” Reiner’s eyes were half-closed, the muscles in his lower abdomen tight. Samira felt soft breathing against her cheek as Porco leaned down, his own lips brushing over Reiner’s cock. He began to leave teasing, suckling kisses against the skin, drawing out filthy moans from deep within Reiner’s gut. He then laid his tongue flat against the broad base, licking a long stripe from root to tip. 

It was Porco who pulled Samira off Reiner’s cock, eventually, though not before smashing his lips against hers for good measure. Reiner watched, mouth agape, cock leaking and happy between his legs. 

Porco’s fingers snuck between Samira’s legs, swiping across her slick folds. 

“Sucking him off got you that wet?” Porco inquired, though there was no jealousy in his tone - only lust. “Fuck.”

Strong fingers gripped Samira’s face. Porco yanked her forward, crushing his mouth against hers, once more, with urgency. Samira felt the bed shift as Reiner began to try and sit up, only to be shoved back down by a strong push from Porco. 

“Stay still. This is for you, after all,” Porco kept a firm grip on Samira’s face, eyes travelling from the proud column of Reiner’s throat, down his barrel chest and hips. Gone was that same hooded-eyed look Samira was used to seeing, instead replaced by one of pure, unsullied desire. He wanted Reiner just as much as Samira.

Maybe that had been the source of “the look” all along. It was no secret to Samira that Porco, like her, had no preference for the gender of his partner - Porco had admitted, several times, that Reiner was an attractive man. Samira just hadn’t read into it as fully as she probably should have. 

“Why don’t you show him how you ride me?” Porco’s large palm drifted across Samira’s back as she happily clambered atop Reiner, his breath hitching as she rested her palms against his chest. She swung a leg over his hip,  and Reiner’s own hand frantically came to grip the base of his cock, sliding the appendage between Samira’s slick folds. 

Porco was watching, eyes narrowed to slits. With a snarl, he reached down to grab Reiner’s face between his fingers - the same motion he’d done to Samira moments earlier - so he could lean down and kiss him. Reiner gave a deep, rumbling moan, eyes slipping closed as Samira sank down onto him, inch by inch, velvety walls trapping his cock in a vice grip. 

It felt heavenly. Reiner felt heavenly.

The bed creaked as Porco pulled away from Reiner and flopped onto his back, the veins on his thick arms pulsing as he gripped his cock and began to stroke. 

“She feels f-fucking amazing, doesn’t she?” Porco could barely speak, and Reiner couldn’t speak at all - he just grunted and nodded in agreement. “Don’t ever f-forget how her pussy feels. You’re only getting it o-once.”

That, Samira knew immediately, was a lie.

Samira lurched forward, legs clamping around Reiner’s hips as her orgasm rocked her entire body. Reiner pumped upward once, twice, before he came - grunting out expletives and gnawing on his lower lip so hard that Samira was scared he would break skin and bleed. His dick was spent, sticky and still leaking as it slipped from her cunt and bobbed before resting against his stomach

“We’re ignoring Porco,” Samira said through her heaving pants. Reiner’s big hand was running across her hips, her lower back, and thighs. He had a half-dazed expression on his face, but perked up when Samira reached over to stroke her partner’s bare, heaving chest. 

“Fucking hell,” Porco moaned. “Both of you will be the death of me, I swear.”

“I couldn’t think of a better way to go,” Reiner replied. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Porco was laughing, shoulders bouncing. He reached out to grip Samira’s thigh, stopping her before she could climb off Reiner’s lap. “I want you on my face next.”

“P-Pock-”

A tilt of the head and a sharp look was enough for Samira to know that he wasn’t kidding.

This was new - Samira had never...well, Porco had never suggested it before during the countless times he’d taken her in this very same bed. She’d imagined it, of course, but she’d never imagined that Porco would ask her to sit on his face. He wasn’t a vanilla guy, but she could tell that Reiner’s presence in the room had changed the way he acted. Perhaps it was some urge to one-up Reiner, prove to him that he, and only he, could make Samira moan and scream and tremble all at once. Samira wasn’t complaining.

Always a competition, Samira mused. 

She allowed herself to smile as she swung her legs on either side of Porco’s head, making sure to give him room to breathe. She braced her hands on the headboard of the bed, fingers curling into the wood as Porco caressed her thighs, her stomach, and then her breasts, tweaking a nipple with his thumb and making Samira mewl. 

“Watch and learn, Braun,” Porco breathed against Samira’s folds. He licked a stripe from one end to the other, and Samira’s hips bucked, her grip on the headboard tightening. His mouth felt so good on her, suckling at her clit before he slid a finger into her tight cunt, crooking the appendage and drawing out filthy sounds from Samira’s parted lips.

Reiner seemed content to just stare, though Samira could see his eyes drifting lower and lower, past the smooth plane of Porco’s stomach to his erect cock. Reiner disappeared from her sight, suddenly, and Samira twisted her head and saw Reiner dive and slip Porco’s cock past his lips. 

“S-shit,” Porco’s hips bucked and he speared Samira on his tongue, fingers slipping from her pussy to reach down and tangle in Reiner’s blonde locks. “What’s got you so f-fucking confident?”

Samira threw her head back and laughed. Her knees and thighs burned but she didn’t care. All she wanted was to come, desperately, and for Porco to get her there. He used his free hand to shove two fingers back inside of her. She could hear Reiner behind her, heard him gag as he sucked Porco’s dick farther and farther into his mouth. 

Porco moaned. Fire exploded in Samira’s gut and she curled forward, and Porco lapped at her like a starving man. The only indicator that he’d come was a subtle tightening of his abs and the sound of Reiner milking him dry, sliding his cock past his lips. 

It took several moments for Samira to peel herself away from Porco, legs spent, her entire body feeling as if it were on a cloud. She collapsed between the two men, Porco remaining on his back while Reiner crawled up, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he wiped away the final evidence of Porco’s release on his lips and chin. 

There were no words spoken between the three, at first. Porco’s eyes were shut, as if he were sleeping. Reiner remained on his side, a distant look in his eyes. Samira was panting still, and she gave a soft sigh. She leaned over and pressed her lips against Reiner’s. 

“Why?” Reiner’s words were soft, though not accusatory. Curious. Just...curious. 

“It was her idea,” Porco mumbled. “You know how she gets. Relentless.”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it,” Samira replied.

“Never said I didn’t.”

“Why?” Reiner repeated the question, this time a bit more forcefully. Porco finally opened his eyes, reaching down to yank the covers across all three of them.

“I...I wanted to do something for you, and I was tired of this little dance the three of us have been doing,” Samira answered honestly. “If I overstepped, I’m sorry-”

“No. I enjoyed it,” Reiner insisted. “I...I needed it. This. Thank you.” 

This time, it was Reiner who tilted forward to capture Samira’s lips with his own. When he pulled away, he leaned over to kiss Porco’s neck before returning to his side of the bed. 

Porco’s skin was flushed red, and Samira could see him struggling not to speak. He instead opted to toss an arm across Samira’s waist and turn over to bury his nose in the nest of coily hair on her head. He was the first to fall asleep, leaving Samira teetering on the edge of slumber and Reiner still wide awake, but beginning to drift off.

“He doesn’t hate you, you know. No matter how much he says he does, he doesn’t hate you,” Samira whispered. She absently lifted a hand to stroke Porco’s hair as soft snores began slipping from his parted lips. 

“How do you know?” 

“Because he’s able to love someone like me.”

Reiner gulped, his eyes drifting to Porco’s face. He reached over and flicked off the bedside lamp, dousing the room in darkness. It was a while before he spoke again, his voice barely above a murmur.

“Good night, Sam.”

“Good night, Reiner.”

[ackerfiction]

Hey! I saw your requests are open and I would like to request a fanfic ❤️

So my idea is, that Levi finally manages to kill Zeke, and so he kept his promise to Erwin. But since he accomplished his only duty, he feels empty, and he doesn't know what to do now that the only thing that kept him close to erwin is gone. So reader, who is in love with levi (and levi feels the same, but cannot accept it) feels destroyed and she gets depressed thinking that she would never be his reason to live.

Ofc, she is wrong, because even if levi's special bound with erwin is broken, he still loves her and he will try to show it to her, since he finally understands that she loves him back.

So how does that sound? I hope you understood what I meant, unfortunately english isn't my first language...

Hi hun, I'm so sorry I took so long! Life got kind of hectic so I had a break from writing for a while <3

The sun filtered its golden rays through the curtains, illuminating the chiseled body of Levi Ackerman as Y/N cleaned his now healing wounds before lights out. There was a tension in the air, usually the pair were comfortable in their silence or engaged in light conversation, but tonight the air was thicker, Levi brooding over whatever thought was tumbling through that mind of his. Y/N's fingers worked lightly, dabbing gently at the cuts, scrapes and deeper wounds on his torso, soothing the marks where his gear had rubbed against his skin. You never stopped feeling that pain, you just got used to it. Neither of them had spoken. Until now, every moment had been silent, a well rehearsed dance being practiced yet again.

"Are you okay?" She had noticed the clouded look in his eyes, the distance that gave an almost dreamy look, but that didn't mean the dreams were good. "Why do you ask?" Levi kept his gaze fixed on the world outside the window, or rather, the curtains in front of it. Usually he felt safe when he closed them, not tonight. "I know you well enough, Levi." It was true, she knew him better than any other, deeper than he even knew himself. She saw through every layer as if his skin was transparent, his mind a script. That was the reason she made him feel so... No. He had other things to think about. The Captain clicked his tongue, followed by a sigh as he put on his shirt, "Then you know too much." He turned to her this time, his eyes skimming over her face, noticing the way loose strands of H/C hair had fallen throughout the day, at the glint in her eyes despite the absolute chaos that had cost him almost everything. "Fine. For the first time in my life, I have no mission. Zeke has been eradicated, Erwin avenged, I have never had a freedom like this." "You have always been very driven, but why not take a break?" He sat beside her on the bed, she could feel the heat from his skin, she longed to touch it, even just a fingertip, but he didn't have time for that. "We both know I can't do that. I can't sit by like a useless pig, I have to find someone, something to fight for. You know just as well as Erwin did, I live in violence. It is my life."

He watched as her expression fell, his mind casting back a few weeks. He had almost killed Erwin for suggesting to end her life with the others, he would have cut him down right there, but Erwin knew before anyone. "I won't take her away from you, Levi." Afterwards, he found her. In a moment of weakness, embraced her. He let her go as quickly as he had drawn her in, leaving her dumbfounded and confused as he walked away.

"But it isn't Levi, it's over now." There were tears in her eyes, heavy and ready to roll down her cheeks, "We don't have to fight anymore. I don't know why Erwin sent me on top of the wall, I don't know and I hate being a lone survivor just as much as you but... Don't you have other reasons to live? Can't you care for someone, something, else?" He knew what she was asking, but letting anyone in like that was a death sentence. "I am cursed to this, my entire bloodline has been for generations. I won't be any different." She turned away from him, she would not let him see her hurt. He owed her nothing. The hours spent together were nothing more than being his help, like Moblit to Hange. She had imagined his relief, his caring, after the battle with Zeke. "I should go." The moment the door closed behind her, he broke.

Y/N's bed was usually comfortable, but in her anger it became the most suffocating, agitating place. The walls she had spent so long in were like a prison. The world in her head a nightmare, wracked with guilt and dead bodies with their blank eyes staring, hungry for life. She had cried herself dry now, seething in the rage of her own stupidity. It was over, she should move on, leave the HQ like a lot of the scouts now had, see home before the next objective, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. There was an abrupt knock at the door, "Y/N." The voice was familiar, but weaker, gruffer even, the door opened and it's owner entered. "Levi, I -" She had been about to speak but the words ceased, the strongest person she knew was standing before her looking so small, so fragile, the bags under his eyes so deep, tears resting on his eyelashes. "I'm sorry." She softened, as he had done many times before her, her anger melted away and she opened her arms, he obeyed, a shocking development, and sank into her embrace. He was warm against her skin, smelling gently of lemon and linen, she held him for a moment. "What's going on?" He pulled away, as if realizing himself, and regained his composure. "I am sorry, I have not been honest with you." His steely eyes met hers, "The reason Erwin sent you away was because of me. Yes, I made him a promise and that was a purpose, but I realize now what my true calling is." He watched her brow furrow as she worked through his words before continuing, "I did not think when I saw you, I was just happy that I hadn't lost you, I am every day." "What are you saying?" She asked. "I'm saying that I think I love you, you are my reason for waking up every day, to keep you safe, to see you smile, to listen to you ramble on about your day and make me shitty cups of tea." "It's not that bad." She joked, but she couldn't stop the tears, he had saved her, out of thousands, he saved her.

Within a moment, her arms were around him and his around her, the impact of their collision knocked Levi sideways and Y/N caught a glimpse of a smile when she pulled back. "I think I love you too." As if on cue, he pulled her in, the kiss he had waited so long for, the person he trusted to never leave... At last, they were here, she was here. With him.

[chocoluckchipz]

A Soulmate for Christmas - 1

No one but you see your soulmate mark. Not unless your soulmate touches it, and even then, it only glows for a moment. Most consider that a blessing, but Marinette would say it’s a blessed curse. Because how was she supposed to find the boy who left a black cat mark on her hand fifteen years ago in the city that wasn't even located in France? So when she finds a model flaunting the mark she put on him all those years back in a magazine, she has hope for a moment. That is until she notices the article discuss his imminent engagement to someone else.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, what’s the emergency?"

Marinette’s hand emerged from under the covers, pointing in the direction of her desk. "The new Paris Fashion. Page thirty."

Alya whistled upon reaching the said page. "Looking good, M Agreste. Good enough to turn my best friend into a hot mess with a single picture."

"This isn’t funny, Al. Look at his chest!"

"Pure lean muscle. Perfectly toned. He's growing up nicely. Though, I fail to see why this is a big enough emergency for you to make me bail on lunch with Nino."

"Look. At. His. Chest." Marinette crawled out from under the comforter and stomped toward Alya, pointing at the particular spot on the picture. "This. Look at this."

"A ladybug tattoo? So—Wait!" Alya looked up at Marinette, her finger pointing to the ladybug mark painted on his chest. "Are you telling me that’s his—" 

"Right where I put it!" Marinette cried, ducking back under her covers. "See? He exists! I told you. I can’t believe you were doubting me all this time!"

"Well, excuse me, but you were five, and he sounded too good to be true. Little boys don’t usually go out of their way to help crying girls they don’t know find their flirting grandmas at a fashion show in Milan. Little boys don’t kiss said little girl’s hand as a farewell while they are at it. And they certainly don’t ask for the girl to kiss their soulmate mark into existence as close to their heart as she possibly could. ‘So, they won’t forget her,’ right?"

"So, he could always keep me close to his heart," Marinette corrected. "But that doesn’t matter now. You were right. That boy doesn’t exist anymore, and this one isn’t as good as I thought he was, so whatever. I’ll get over him and move on. There are plenty of guys out there. One of them is bound to like me more than money, fame, and prestige."

"What do you mean? Shouldn’t you be happy your crush is your soulmate?"

With a pitiful groan slipping her lips, Marinette buried her face into her pillow. "Ugh! I can’t believe I ever felt guilty for crushing on him. I thought I was a horrible person betraying my soulmate for some handsome, sexy supermodel. Foolish me. He doesn’t deserve any of my attention."

"Marinette, seriously. What do you mean?"

"Read the article."

Alya fell silent as soon as she noticed the title. "‘Paris’ most eligible bachelor reveals… a long-time secret relationship with his childhood friend Kagami Tsurugi. Doesn’t deny Christmas Eve engagement rumour.’ Oh."

"And you know what the worst part is?"

"What can be worse than discovering that your long-time crush is your long-lost soulmate and then finding out he’s been not only dating someone else but very likely will propose… tonight?"

"How about being at the same party at the same time. As a waitress."

Alya swore under her breath and put the magazine down. "Mayor Bourgeois’ Christmas Gala?"

Marinette nodded. "The article said they both confirmed they will be attending. I'll get a front-row seat to my soulmate's proposal to someone else. Lucky me."

"Then don’t go," she said, sitting down beside Marinette. "I’ll go in your place."

Marinette couldn’t let her do that. Nino was going to propose tonight, so Alya couldn’t be anywhere but with him. "You’re spending your first Christmas with Nino’s family. I’m not standing in the way of that."

"I can spend New Year Day with them."

"You’re going to the French Alps with your family that weekend. Don’t try to weasel out of it. Your mom has been planning that trip for months. Nora’s flying in specifically for it."

"I’m not trying to weasel out. I’m trying to help you, M."

"And I appreciate it, but I’m not making you go instead of me."

"What about your father?"

"The doctor said he shouldn’t be getting up for at least another week or his leg might not heal properly and he’ll end up with a prospect of a surgery which we’re trying to avoid."

"Then, I’m sure Rose or Juleka wouldn’t mind stepping in."

"No." Marinette sat up on her bed. "They have plans, and I’m not going to ruin them. I’ll just have to grow a pair and face him like the strong, independent woman I am. Or rather go help Maman and avoid him at all cost. He’s not even going to recognize me anyway. I didn’t. Not until I saw that photo."

"That’s true. I doubt he remembers much about you. You were babies when you met, so just stay away from him and keep your hands covered. That way even if you accidentally touch he won’t see it. A pair of gloves perhaps?"

"Mayor has uniforms for all the servers, even those coming in with the caterers, so no gloves for me. But as long as I do my job and pretend like I’m not in the same room with my soulmate who clearly didn't think me worthy enough to search for and instead decided to date this very famous, very influential, extremely rich girl from his own circle, I should be fine."

"I’m so sorry, M." Alya wrapped her arms around Marinette, bringing her into her chest for a cuddle. "Men are stupid. Some more than the others. Especially the rich and spoiled ones."

Marinette scoffed bitterly. "Don’t I know it. I got plenty of examples from being in the same class as Chloe Bourgeois for years." 

"Isn’t Adrien Chloe’s friend?"

"I think so. I was hoping Adrien wasn't like her. Clearly, that isn't the case."

"You'll get over him soon, and we'll find you a nice, handsome, smart man who will cherish and love you for who you are."

"Soulmates are so last century anyway, right?" Marinette swallowed back the knot in her throat. No matter how much she tried to convince herself, this hurt. "I’m sure he doesn’t even remember meeting me. We were five. Who would be holding on to a memory of a random girl in Milan? And even if he did remember me, he probably thinks I live there. I thought my soulmate lived in Milan until he decided to show off his stupid soulmate mark to the whole world. Who does that, anyway? Those are supposed to be one of the most intimate of details of one’s life. You don’t just show it to everyone, and certainly not to the whole world while announcing your engagement to someone else." 

Her eyes fell to her hand where, invisible to everyone but her, an image of a black cat lay, a mark Adrien Agreste left there more than a decade ago with his first kiss to her skin. Just like a mark of a ladybug appeared on his chest when her lips touched it upon his request. He said he wanted to keep her close to his heart, so it would be easier for him to find her.

What a load of BS.

"Have you ever thought that, perhaps, that could’ve been a message to you?" Alya asked. "He went through the trouble of painting over his soulmate mark for the photoshoot so others could see it. It has to mean something. No one is dumb enough to think that if Adrien Agreste releases topless photos while announcing something as big as a possible engagement, there would be at least one person in France, or even Europe for that matter, who wouldn't see it. He knew his soulmate would see it."

Marinette laughed. Bitterly. "Yeah, a great message. ‘Here is my soulmate mark, my dear soulmate. In all the years I knew you existed, I didn’t bother to find you. But I did make sure that this picture, in which I showcase to the whole world the mark you left me, came along with an article where I discuss how much I love my girlfriend you'll never compare to in status, money or looks. Not that I even care about your feelings, announcing that an engagement is in the near future for me and my darling childhood friend.’ Yeah. This is definitely a message, Alya. He says ‘Screw you, Marinette. I’m better off with Kagami Tsurugi, and I thought you should know that.’"

Alya wrapped her arms around her tighter. "First of all, only brainless idiots would take status and money over love. Second, you’re the prettiest, smartest, and the most successful woman I've ever known, and third, you're an amazing and wonderful person who's on her way to becoming one of the best designers in Paris, so don’t you bring yourself down because of a stupid man who doesn't realize what he lost."

"It's my fault anyway. That's what I get for letting that stupid, cute boy kiss my stupid hand at a stupid fashion show in stupid Milan."

"You were five, M. And he was a dashing gentleman, helping you find your grandmother in a strange city you got lost in. You couldn't have known he's your soulmate. No one could have."

"Right. And he won’t recognize me, so I’ll be fine. He won’t even look a waitress’ way. Nothing to worry about. I’m very much certain the only person he’ll be looking at will be his future bride-to-be, so I have absolutely nothing to be scared of. Not that I’m scared, because I’m not. I just don’t want to be humiliated. Not that I’m already humiliated, but at least no one knows about it. That'll be awful if anyone else finds out—"

Alya grabbed her face and turned to look at her. "Marinette, breathe. Calm down."

She took a few deep breaths and tried to relax. Alya was right. This was fine. She’d be fine. Everything would be just peachy.

"As long as he doesn’t touch your right hand, no one will know. I still insist I go instead of you. Nino will understand—" 

"No. I’ll go. I can do it."

"Yes, you can, and you’ll be fine, but if anything happens, you have my number. I’ll be there in five minutes. You got me?"

Marinette nodded, pulling Alya into a hug. She was an amazing friend, and Nino and she were going to be insanely happy together. One day perhaps, Marinette would meet someone too. Someone who, just like her, was betrayed by their soulmate. Or someone who had lost theirs. Someone who would be kind and gentle and, like her, would just want to be happy. 

Someone who was not Adrien Agreste. 

Next >

Read it on A03, FF.net. WattPad

Buy the author a Ko-fi for Christmas

[arvandus]

Touch (pt 4)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi  terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it  that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song:

Bloodstream by Stateless

Part 1  Part 3

Artwork credit to @hellowon31​ on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 4 - Wounded

Later that day, while Dabi sat in his room nursing his migraine and checking his phone for a response from Giran, he heard a quiet knock at his door and the sound of footsteps fading away. He opened the door and found a white takeout bag.

Curiously, he picked up the item and looked inside to see tonkatsu ramen and a pair of chopsticks with some napkins, along with another bottle of water for good measure.  He scoffed.

You brought him ramen.

Not one to turn away free food, Dabi brought the item into the solitude of his room and removed the lid. The smell hit his nose and he inhaled deeply.  He hadn’t eaten anything all day, locking himself in his room to avoid the others while his persistent nausea made all foods sound unappealing.  He drank water from the tap when he felt like he needed it, ironically hearing your scolding in his head each time he did so.  His head and body aches were definitely reduced, but his mind felt off, different.  He was grateful Shigaraki hadn’t given him any assignments today.  He’d probably just incinerate anyone he came across, starting with Crusty Hands himself.

As Dabi ate, he mulled over his situation.  Having to request your help for his burn was bad enough.  But letting you see him like this?  Broken by the weight of his addiction?  It left a sour taste in his mouth, hampering his enjoyment of his noodles.

He didn’t have much choice – he knew he needed your medical care, so turning you away wasn’t really an option.  Risking infection would only make a bad situation worse, and it was impeding his ability to get back to work.  He hated being stuck in here, alone with his thoughts.  So, when he let you in earlier, he had hoped you’d patch him up and leave, his hostile mood and harsh words a muzzle for any questions you may have felt tempted to ask. 

Dabi should have known better.  Now you were involved in supplying and managing his medication – something he would have never asked for. Against his better judgment, you managed to entwine yourself deeper into his life, even if it was for just a short time.  How was it that he kept losing control of the situation?

It was your fault.  It had to be.  You had managed to navigate him like charted waters even though he never gave you a map.  In hindsight, Dabi was honestly impressed; he knew he wasn’t an easy person to get along with, especially when he was in such a dark place. 

Then again, maybe he did withhold some of his cruelty, despite how horrible he was feeling earlier. He knew he could get downright nasty when he really wanted to, his words honed to kill.  If he truly hadn’t wanted you here, then things would have gone very differently.  That thought was even more disconcerting – that for some reason, he felt the need to behave himself around you in some unspoken desire to keep you around.

It must have been the desperation.  That was it. Maybe he was hoping that if he stayed in your good graces, that you’d use your quirk on him and free him from his misery.  Even now Dabi wanted to feel your hands on him again, to feel your power seep like a mist into all of the dark parts of him.  The more you touched him, the harder it was for him to get the sensation of you off his skin and out of his head.  Maybe he really was becoming addicted to you.  Why else would he have even let you in? Why else would he have let you stay?

He recalled you reaching out your hand at one point as if to touch him and it had made his pulse race with anticipation as he pretended not to notice.  But you had changed your mind and Dabi was left with heavy disappointment, as he tried to understand why.  Did you have fears of your own? Of getting too close to him?  If you were smart, you would trust those instincts.

Maybe he should reach out to his villain connections to find someone with a healing quirk.  It’d expedite his recovery and reduce his exposure to you.  It wasn’t cheap, though… healing quirks cost a pretty penny in the underground.  They were rare enough to come by in hero society and even more so in the villain network.  Not many healers followed a life of crime – they naturally lacked a propensity for violence that the lifestyle required.  Even if a healer could be found, could he afford it? Probably not. 

Plus, there was the fact that he wasn’t much loved, even by the dredges of society. He had built a reputation for himself, long before he crossed paths with Shigaraki.  He had no patience for stupid people with nothing but shortsightedness and lustful violence to offer, which turned out to be nearly everyone.  His list of those willing to work with him was unsurprisingly short.

Dabi downed the warm, salty broth and set the container down to stare at the last bits of seasoning stuck to the inside, trying to read his future like tea leaves.  They provided no answers, of course.

“Fuck.” He muttered.

Dabi’s troubled thoughts were interrupted by a ‘ding’ on his phone.  His hand betrayed his composure, snatching the technology up swiftly.

It was a text message from Giran.  Fucking finally.  Maybe the universe wasn’t so fucked up after all.

Dabi’s eyes glossed over the words quickly, his mouth setting into a thin line.  Giran had a seller he could hook him up with, but it would cost him, of course.  And the worst part was that Dabi would have to wait.  Giran was out of town and wouldn’t be back for at least a week.

Until then, Dabi was at your mercy.  Luckily for him, mercy was something you had in ample supply.  If only it wasn’t wrapped nicely in a pretty face and an addictive touch.

It looked like the universe wasn’t done fucking with him.

By the time evening rolled around, the pills you had given him were already beginning to wear off. Dabi expected as much.  So, when you knocked on his door to change his bandages and check on him, he couldn’t help but breathe a small, secret sigh of relief.  If he was stuck with you for the next couple of weeks, then he might as well take whatever help he could to make himself a functioning human being.  He could hold out until then.

When he opened the door for you, you greeted him with a smile that immediately made him question his resolve. Were you happy to see him? Fucking why?

You watched him closely, trying to look for a healthy color on his cheeks, and happily noted the empty food container still sitting on his desk.  It was an impromptu decision on your part – you were out getting food for yourself, and his words had echoed back in your head.  It had sounded good at the time and buying for two was just as easy as buying for one.  Plus, you had a feeling he hadn’t left his room all day, and you didn’t recall seeing a mini fridge in it.

Dabi noticed your happy glow and followed your gaze to see what you were looking at.  He rolled his eyes when he realized.  He probably should have said thank you once he noticed. That was what normal people did, at least.  But he didn’t want to draw attention to it.

You began your typical round of questions.  “How are you feeling?” you asked.

“I’m gonna need more of those pills.” Dabi replied as he removed his shirt for you.  The one light in his room was already too bright for him. Behind him, he could hear the drip drip of his bathroom faucet, each ping on the porcelain like a hammer behind his eyes.  At least it was evening now, which meant he could open his window to the cold night air to counter his elevated body heat.

You had begun unpacking the supplies you needed to treat him but paused to turn and look at him with wide eyes. “Really??” you asked in disbelief. “I just gave you some this morning.”

“What can I say, doll. They took the edge off for a bit, but that’s about it.” He replied with a shrug.

You pursed your lips in thought as you eyed the man in front of you.  He didn’t seem as bad as this morning, thankfully.  But you could tell he still wasn’t his usual self.  You doubted that any amount of pills you gave him would fix him entirely, though.  No doubt his body was feeling the effects of switching to something different after what was probably years of use.  Most importantly, the pills you had on hand simply weren’t as strong as what he normally took. 

You had considered this, of course.  In fact, much of your day was spent trying to figure out your next course of action for Dabi. He was a League member after all, so if he couldn’t function for some reason or another then he technically fell under your responsibility.  He needed to get back onto what he was taking before.  Fortunately for him, your own connection was incredibly reliable and had better access to medical supplies than most.  It just so happened they would be able to get the same medications he was taking.  The downside was that it would take a little bit of time – there was a lot of fake paperwork to create in order to get access, since it was a high-class opioid. Until then, you had to keep him above water.

“Fine,” you said begrudgingly.  “I’ll give you a few more.” You took the bottle out of your bag and handed him three pills, hoping they would get him through the night at least.  He took them from your hand, the heat of his fingers against your palm lingering like the kiss of sunlight on a leaf.  You froze for a moment at the sensation, before realizing that you were standing there with your empty hand out.  You took your hand away, embarrassed.  You probably looked like an idiot…

You pushed on, ignoring your overly critical brain.  “Please try to wait it out as much as you can before you take-”

Your words were cut short as you watched Dabi down the pills dry, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.  He caught your eyes in his own with a challenging, mischievous glow swimming in their cerulean depths.

You frowned at him. “You’re ridiculous.” You huffed.  “You might want to try stretching those out a bit more.  If I run out, you’ll be up shit creek.”

Dabi grinned.  “Don’t worry, doll.  I got a hold of my middleman earlier.  He’ll be hooking me up in a week, then I can pay you back.”

You were stunned by his offer to reimburse you.  You felt strangely… appreciated?

But damn it – he was too efficient for his own good. You hadn’t expected him to find a replacement so fast.  Suddenly, you began to second guess your actions.  Maybe you should have checked with him first…

Anxiety crept in like a fog. Would he be mad that you took matters into your own hands?  Half-truths fell from your mouth while your mind struggled to reach a decision.

“Oh, um… it’s okay.   I already put a request in for more of these since I figured I’d be treating you for a bit.  I know they’re not as good as yours, but they’re better than nothing.  They’ll be available for pick-up in a few days.”

Now it was Dabi’s turn to be surprised.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He said as he looked away from you.  It was the first time he’d ever broken his gaze with you first.

“Well, I didn’t know how long you’d need my help with this, and I didn’t want you to suffer.” You said. You noticed his sudden avoidance and guilt filled you.  Did he feel ashamed?  Humiliated? Did you wound his pride somehow?  You didn’t even tell him all the facts, yet…

You bit your lip nervously, and an awkward silence begin to make its way through the room.  Dabi picked up on it immediately, of course.

He looked back at you, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.  “What?”

“Um, well… I didn’t just get more of these pills.” You explained.  “I talked to my supplier and was able to put in a request for the ones you were taking too.  But they’re harder to get, so it might take longer before they’re available.”

“What?” Dabi repeated, his surprise deepening.  His blue eyes widened slightly.  This was so much more than he had ever expected from you and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it.  Annoyed? Flattered?  Embarrassed?  Dabi never felt embarrassed.  Then again, he’d never had someone look out for him the way you did these past couple of days.  There had to be a catch.  Did you want something from him?  What could he possibly offer you?

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his words laced with mistrust.

You fidgeted with your fingers, drawing your thumb nail along underneath your index finger.   His presence seemed to fill the room.  Something about the tension in his body and the wariness of his tone reminded you of a wounded animal, ready to bite.  You wanted to choose your words carefully, to put the man in front of you at ease. 

Instead, the words fell out of your mouth in a rambling mess.

“Well, I knew these weren’t really going to be sufficient for you.”  You looked up at him.  “And I told you I wanted to make sure you were getting your medication from somewhere reliable.  Besides, this way it’s covered by the League instead of you paying out of your own pocket.”

You shifted your weight slightly, unsure if you should say anything else while he continued to pierce your soul with his sharp gaze, trapping you like a spider in a web.  Oh shit, was he mad?  He seemed mad.  Maybe? Why the hell was he staring at you like that?  Why wasn’t he saying anything??

Maybe you made a mistake.

Finally, you couldn’t handle the tension anymore and worked out an apology through your clumsy lips. “I-I’m sorry, I should have checked with you first.  It’s just, I had to get in my medical order today, and I didn’t want to bother you earlier.”

Dabi broke his hold on you with a blink.  “Wait. So Crusty Hands is paying for my drugs?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You replied with a shrug.  “He has Kurogiri give me an allowance and I decide how I want to spend it.”

A chuckle escaped Dabi’s lips. “That’s fucking great.  I bet he’d lose his shit if he found out.”

You secretly released the breath you were holding as your tension left your shoulders.  “Well, he shouldn’t find out. Your pills are expensive.”

“Oh, he’s definitely gonna find out.” Dabi grinned.  “I can’t not rub it in his face.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms.  “Are you trying to get me dusted?”

Dabi’s grin froze for a moment as he stared at you, mirth in his eyes.  “He won’t dust you, doll.  You’re too valuable.”

You stared back at him, skepticism written all over your face.  “Yeah, well that nice budget he gives me helps me stay valuable. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your smart mouth shut.”

“It’s cute that you think you can boss me around.  If you’re gonna make me keep secrets, then you better make it worth my while.” Dabi leered.

“Worth your while?” you echoed, confusion in your eyes.  All your mind could conjure in that moment were impure ways to silence that attractive mouth of his and you were pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant.  Your mind got increasingly distracted as you wondered what kissing him would feel like, with his different textured lips and the rings on the corners of his mouth.

Goddamn it.

Dabi’s deep voice pulled you back to the present.

“Don’t act coy with me, doll.” Dabi replied casually.  “You think you know me so well, you’re making all my choices for me now. What do you think I want?”

A moment ago, he seemed low energy due to his withdrawal, barely holding onto his sanity out of courtesy of your presence.  Now, all of a sudden, he was dripping with what you could only describe as sex appeal. He’d completely pulled the rug out from under you with his sinuous words wrapped nicely in a heavy drawl.  His body leaned into your personal space just enough to make you lean away slightly, even though your body wanted you to go in the opposite direction, to meet him move for move, like a puppet on strings. If only his hands could caress you the way his voice did, then maybe you wouldn’t feel so tense...  Rational thought abandoned you as you struggled to pick up the broken pieces of your façade while your imagination ran with the freedom of a wild horse.

Dabi watched your blank expression in amusement, enjoying having the upper hand.  You looked downright terrified.  What was going on in that pretty little head of yours?  If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were going down a naughty rabbit hole.  But Dabi scratched that theory – he wasn’t the type of guy girls fantasized about… right?

He watched as you faltered between your secret thoughts and your defensive words.  “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” He teased.  “I thought you were the expert? You’re always so smart with all the answers.”

“Wha-” you stammered. “Shut up, Dabi.”

“Just give me a few more of those pills for later and I’ll be silent as the grave.”

“Is that what this is about?” You pushed your hands against his bare chest, and he let you, backing out of your personal space just enough to let you breathe. “You’re ridiculous.”

“What did you think I meant?” Dabi grinned.

“Nothing.” You huffed. “Stop trying to get under my skin.”

“Stop letting me.” he countered.  “I thought you were a professional?  Do you get this flustered with everyone? Or maybe we got somethin’ special, doll.” Dabi knew he was pushing it, but the moment was too fun not to, your flustered reactions spurring him on.  The more you gave, the more he wanted to take. Normally, gals didn’t let him get this far…

“Why are you like this.” You grumbled in annoyance.

“‘cause you seem to like it.”  Dabi stared down at you.  Were you gradually getting closer to him or was it his imagination?

“You wish,” you replied, denial thickening your tone into barbs. You tilted your chin up defiantly. “Maybe you’re the one who likes it.”

Dabi laughed.  If you wanted to play with fangs out, then he’d play along.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself, doll.  You’re not my type.” He mocked.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, his words cutting you before you could even understand why.  Perhaps it was the attack on your self-esteem, or his blatant declaration that he had no interest in you.  Just like that, the heat of the moment turned to ice, your eyes betraying your hurt before you could mask it behind detached anger. 

Dabi faltered in his assault; he hadn’t expected the words to have such an effect on you.  If anything, he expected you to provide a sarcastic agreement about him not being your type either, or you not wanting to be his type, or something along those lines.  He expected you to be annoyed, yes.  Mildly insulted, sure.

He did not expect you to see you so wounded.

Your lips pressed firm together as you took a steady breath through your nose to keep your eyes from suddenly watering by the slap of emotion that threatened to drown you. 

“Yeah, well you’re not exactly a catch yourself.” You replied coldly.  Whether or not your words mattered to him, you had no idea.  His face was an emotionless mask as he straightened his back and retreated from what was left of your personal space.

If he was going to say anything in response, you didn’t give him a chance.  You lowered your eyes to the level of his bare chest which now seemed impossibly far from you even though you had touched its warmth only moments before.

“Turn around so I can finish.  I have to go check on Magne after this.” You said emotionlessly.  It was the first time he’d ever truly heard you speak like that, and he quickly decided that he didn’t like it.

You finished hastily without any further conversation and left with a curt “goodnight,” before Dabi could finish putting his shirt back on over his head.

After you had gone, Dabi stared at the door for a moment, before he sat on the edge of his bed and ran his long fingers through his black hair.  He wanted to ignore it and forget it; it wasn’t supposed to matter.  But, alone in his solitude, his mind replayed the moment over and over for him, unrelentingly, until understanding slowly came.  The stubborn seed of realization forced its way through his deeply rooted denial, his conviction not enough to refute what he plainly saw.  Your small gestures of kindness, your excessive commitment to care for him, the way you smiled at him when you saw him… your wounded expression at his callous words.

Did you like him?

“Fuck.” He muttered. ___________________________________________________________

 Part 5

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