#just.. WHY BRAKE-CHECKING IS SO FUCKING STUPID

[steves-strapcollection]

so i was watching some of my dashcam footage that i deliberately saved bc of Calgary Driver Shenanigans taking place in proximity to me and i straight up hate people who brake-check so much

pulling that shit is so dangerous, even at "low" speeds. and even if someone is riding your asshole hard, you don't brake-check them. as soon as you do a brake-check, you have now made yourself the more reckless driver in that equation.

you should never, ever do something to deliberately cause a collision when operating heavy machinery.

like, i cannot even fathom the kind of self-absorbed loser you have to be to play chicken like that in a way that could get someone fucking killed.

just... like... i keep thinking back to this accident that happened here one or two years ago, where a pick-up truck brake-checked a minivan on the highway in less than ideal driving conditions and the van spun out, and then rolled multiple times into the ditch, and one of the children in the van was ejected. the pick-up truck didn't even stop and as far as i'm aware was never even found. like that driver fucking killed a kid.... and for what? the driver of the van maybe pissed them off? was driving a bit too close? like please, if you are someone who brake-checks because you assume you'll be just fine if you get hit bc "lol i'm insured" you should always assume that the worse possible outcome could happen. when operating heavy machinery going more than 20mph around other people also operating heavy machinery going the same or higher speeds, you should always be thinking about the worst case scenario of pulling a dumbass move that affects multiple ppl.

like when you brake-check someone, you think this is a tussle that's just between you and that person, yeah? and you feel justified because maybe this person is driving too close, or they seem distracted, or maybe they pissed you off earlier, right? Oh, but I bet you looked all around, considered all of the variables, and determined that should an accident occur, it's only the two of you that's gonna have your day ruined, right? I'm sure you're cocky enough to think that. Like I'm positive (sarcastic) you've thought about all of these things before brake-checking:

the other vehicles in the road other than you and the person behind you

is there a big truck behind the person behind you that is going to have a fucking heart attack trying to stop?

the road conditions in general

what if the driver behind you doesn't have new tires? what if one of their tires blows out trying to brake and they spin out?

are their pedestrians you might be endangering if your stupid move causes an accident?

what if the other driver has kids in the car? passengers in general? your beef is with the driver, but causing an accident would be punishing their innocent passengers too

what if the accident you cause totals your car? are you able to be without a car?

what if the accident totals the other person's car? what if their livelihood depends on them having a car?

what if the other person doesn't have insurance? yeah, that's illegal, but it does you no good. if you think your insurance is going to pick up the tab in that case with no fight at all, you're naive as fuck. like unless you have complete car insurance and not just liability insurance, your insurance company will fucking fight any claim you make. even with complete car insurance, they fight claims. remember, car insurance companies are in the business of hoarding the money you pay them. they do not actually want to pay out.

what if the other driver has a dashcam and can definitively prove that you braked for no reason other than to endanger literally everyone else on the road?

like that's just some of the things to fucking consider re: brake-checking. and when the list of risks is that long while incomplete, what do you even gain by brake-checking?

brake-checking is petty, stupid, and fucking reckless. it can seriously injure people that aren't even involved in your beef, and it can even kill people. brake-checking is some of the most self-absorbed behaviour to have behind the wheel, and people who do it are fucking losers.

period.

even if the other driver is following too close, or driving aggressively. you don't make an already dangerous situation even more dangerous oh my fucking god like why isn't that common fucking sense.

[phenomenalgirl9]

When you take a "Who's your Ateez Boyfriend quiz"

Ateez x Reader

A/n: I actually got San in one of the quiz and Seonghwa in another hehe.

Hongjoong

"Ahh, fuck this" he heard you curse as his eyes traveled from the screen to the side where you were waiting for him to be done. He saw you looking frustrated at something on your phone and got curious "what's wrong babe?" He asked softly. You huffed and showed his the result to you "Who is your Ateez Boyfriend" quiz saying Wooyoung. "This dumb shit has been showing me Wooyoung and Yunho, seven times" you said pouting. Hongjoong laughed out and wheeled to you and pulled you onto his lap, kissing your cheek and said "Babe you don't need this stupid quiz to know that" making you smile. "You're mine" he said holding you tightly, "Yes I am" you said fitting your face at the crook of his neck.

Seonghwa

When he saw you pout sitting in the corner of the dance studio he thought you were sad. Maybe she had a fight with someone, he saw you aggressively typing away, he literally kept glancing at you until they took a brake and damn, the moment he looked back you were smiling. Like grinning like an idiot at your phone. "What you got there?" He asked you, while wiping his sweat as you showed him the screen to your phone saying "look!" Excitedly. He checked the screen saying 'Seonghwa is your Boyfriend'. "Was this why you were upset a while ago?" He asked in surprise, and you nodded saying "I saw this random person post they got you in the result, but I didn't and I tried 11 times until I got you! With different sets of answers" you said proudly, he didn't know how to react you looked so cute admitting all this.

Yunho

When Yunho saw you clicking on your phone so aggressively he was sure you were in a fan war yet again or you were playing a game. He sat beside you in the lobby you were waiting for him. He hit your shoulder with his as he leaned in only to find you taking some sort of quiz. The result left him breathless with laughter "Jo-Jongho?!" He said and rolled in laughter. "Great, now I owe Wooyoung 500 won" you grumbled. "Baby, the guy has like 2 braincells he won't remember it" he said "let me see" he said and just like that started taking the quiz himself.

Yeosang

Yeosang wanted to look up his email so he called out "Y/n, is it okay if I look at my emails from your laptop?". You mumbled "sure" from your spot in the kitchen where the ramen was boiling. Suddenly, it hit you "No wait" but it was done there Yeosang was looking at the screen and you in utter surprise. "You need a quiz to know I'm your boyfriend?! Y/n!" He said but started laughing himself. "In my defence, Wooyoung sent it to me and this was my first try" you said. "That's such a weird flex" he said clicking to do what he actually opened your laptop for.

San

You've been very quiet for sometime now and no cheering no comments. He looked over to you to find you busy on your phone. You kinda looked agitated so he let you be. By the time he was done you were sighing and ran your hands through your hair now he was curious as to what got you THAT frustrated? He simply came and back-hugged you to see you with a result page saying 'Yeosang is your boyfriend'. "Stupid website" you cursed. "Baby, I am your boyfriend" he said pouting "Say that to this stupid website" you said. "Then again Yeosang is your bias" he said and you looked at him "hey" he turned your face to him, both of you laughing.

Mingi

"Y/n~ Y/n-ah" he sang out, and you nodded in response, "What are you so busy with?" He says and "Wait.. wait" you whispered to him as you mentally said 'please, please' and...it came 'Mingi is your Ateez Soulmate' and you rejoiced. You stood up and hugged him, his eyes stuck to your screen. "Babe,I, your boyfriend, have literally been calling you ages and you were busy with a quiz?" He said "but it took you this long?" He asked. "NO, this dumb quiz kept showing Yunho and who not" you complained "So what were you calling for?" You asked. "The new episode is up" he said as the two of you went off, the quiz was long forgotten.

Wooyoung

You were bored, and were scrolling through Twitter when you found this quiz and thought of taking it but it became an obsession to prove it. "No you dumb fuck" Wooyoung and San who were busy practicing heard you curse. "Whats up jagiya?" Wooyoung asked and you passed your phone to him. "Your Ateez Boyfriend is Hongjoong?! You don't love me?" He said being dramatic. "Shut up Woo! THIS DUMB QUIZ" you said in rage, "This? Even I got Wooyoung in that" San said, chuckling. "Really? Let me try" Wooyoung said snatching your phone. "Wooyoung?!" You said. After the clicks were done he showed you the screen 'Wooyoung' was the result. "Even I got myself, paboya" he said and made a run before you overcame your shock and chased him with the nearest thing you found, a Banana. "I'll kill you Jung Wooyoung!" You said running behind him around the studio leaving an out of breath with laughter San.

Jongho

You looked over at Jongho and clicked on the link just to try if it happens. Jongho heard you gasp and you excitedly said "Jongho you're my soulmate". He got so excited and touched and was about to lay his heart bare when he watched you turn the laptop screen to the result of 'Jongho is your Ateez Soulmate' and he laid back down laughing at your cuteness. "Gosh Y/n" he said and shook his head as he sat back up. "You are my ideal type after all" you said flirting and wink. Jongho said an "aish jinja" as he then walked up to where you were sitting and said "Let me try".

_____________________________________

Other Works

[xdivyxd]

hii i was wondering if you could write gerard way x fem reader angst?

Hii sorry it took me so long, i was going through stuff, but I'm back on Tumblr now. I hope you'll like it :)

A million little pieces

Word count : 738

Pairing: Gerard Way x reader (gender neutral)

Description : In which reader wants to get married but Gerard doesn't really like the idea

Gener: angst

Warning : language ¿

"Will you marry me?" I got down on one knee, looking up at the man of my dreams, smiling up at him and holding out the open velvet box with the ring in it

"Y/n please get up..." I looked at him as i got up, my smile slowly disappearing as i realized how stupid it was to do it

"I'm not gonna marry you" my heart shattered in millions of little pieces that would never be put back together, all i could say is a quivery "why?" As i closed the ring box, not looking at Gerard's direction

"Because I'm not ready to get married y/n. God this is so stupid why would you even ask me to?" His voice sounded irritated

"The idea of marrying me is that stupid? Really?!" My voice came out angrier than i intended "god how stupid uh? Marrying the person you love? So so fucking stupid." I rolled my eyes and looked at him, waiting for him to say something but he stared at me, not a single emotion detected on his face

"Say something Gerard" I swang my arms up in frustration, the ring box dropping to the floor, he looked at it as if he was waiting for something to happen

"I don't want to marry you y/n" His words hurt me more than anything before

"You're amazing, really"

Tears were rolling down my checks, my entire body was shaking "then why?"

"I don't know y/n, i. Dont. Know" he was frustrated by the situation, and so was I

"Yes you do know Gerard, just say what you have to say"

He looked at me and took a deep breath "i do love you, but.." he stopped for a few seconds, I felt nauseous, i was sceard my knees would give up and i would fall to the ground

"But I'm not in love with you anymore, and it wouldn't be right of me to marry you if I don't feel the same as you"

I nodded my head, closing my eyes 'please this is just a bad dream please' i kept repeating in my head

I opened my eyes after a few moments and looked at the man standing in front of me and took a breath, not letting myself brake infront of him

"One of us should move out then" i said and turned my back to him, walking to our bedroom, i felt him come after me

"We should talk about it first don't ypu think?" All i wanted to do was slap him when je said that.

I stood at the door of our bedroom looking at our bed, the bed we've been shearing for the past year.

How stupid was i to think we were in love with each other. How stupid...

I walked to the closet with a suit case and started packing "you're leaving now? Y/n we should talk. I can sleep on the couch, let's just talk about what we should do"

"I'm not leaving, you are." I said as i put a few of his clothes in the suit case, not thinking rationally, and not wanting to.

All i wanted was to get back to the way we were, but that was impossible

"And we have nothing to talk about. You don't love me anymore, we're not getting married and we can't be together cuz, like you said, you don't love me anymore"

I gave him the suit case and looked at him waiting for him to get out, he didn't

"I do love you, just not the way i used to, not the way you want me to love you. I don't want us to lose each other."

I rolled my eyes, tears were still streaming down my face

"We can stay friends"

I laughed at the idea of staying friends, how could i ever be friends with him after all those years of being in love with him

"Get out Gerard. Get out and don't ever talk to me again"

He didn't fight this time, he knew it was worthless to fight me now, he took his stuff and got out of the house

As soon as i heard the front door closing i fell to my knees, i started sobbing, I don't know how to come back from this

I just lost the only man i ever loved. Forever.

[syntia13treeman]

Case files 13.01

CAT3RB4622-17092023-14032024

what I think happened in:

Case 13.01, the case of "The Zorrotrade App" or "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes: Cryptobro edition"

What we know about the Zorrotrade App:

It likely has no government oversight.

It does some weird background checks of new users.

It allows users to engage in highly profitable and borderline illegal financial exploits.

They have some shady experimental features that are not advertised, hidden under a tonne of submenus and must be found and opted in by the user. (Free will, babey).

They have an Adjustment Department.

What we suspect about the Zorrotrage App:

It's magic.

One of magical perks is protectingusers phone from being stolen;

One of magical cons is compulsive truth spell included in their support line answerphone.

Another magical con: the Adjustment Department.

So let's meet a Zorrotrade user. Darrien Laurel (account number 428813). He had no shame, no self-awareness and no sense of decency. Also not a shred of common sense.

He came from a poor family (though considering his definition of 'broke' I'm not sure if his parents were actually poor, or just 'won't buy me a porshe' 'poor'). He went to private public expensive high school thanks to a scholarship, which – props to him, for this thing and this thing only. Boo to anything else he did with his life.

After school he took student loan, and instead of spending in on studying, he sunk it all in financial speculations (This has to be illegal, right? Aren't there stipulation in the contract about the permissible uses of the loan?) He used every trick in the book (specifically, the "book of things that are shady as fuck and are only technically legal because rich people benefit from them"). Shorting (and possibly indirectly bankrupting) startup companies and trading in cryptocurrency among them.

He used the funds he acquired this way for the ever so important business of impressing his former classmates, getting plastic surgeries, and buying excessive and excessively expensive shit. (Your suitcase does not have to cost a 1000 dollars, you prick). (Why are you buying in dollars, anyway? Did you have that imported from USA? Use pounds or euros like a proper European, asshat).

Then, in 2020, a tragedy: while he was peacefully sailing with his good friend Oli somewhere south of France, one bad investment left him broke – that is to say, just with a few thousands worth of clothes on his back (and in his 1000$ suitcase) (and the watch on his wrist) (and just a few thousands of savings to throw away on a whim).

Truly, a more devastating blow has never been dealt to anyone in human history.

This is when he discovered that his rich 'friends' really did hate him all along. More importantly, he discovered the experimental feature on his favourite app, "Personal Projection Short Selling". There were no instructions, but by stroke of bad decisions and bad luck (blindly investing most of his remaining money + getting drank + braking his friend's TV, and getting kicked out of Oli's yacht, + getting kicked in the face by some muggers respectively) Darrien worked out that it was functionally a wager against his own good fortune.

Another entry into Things that Darrien Did Not Have: a drop of self-preservation.

Imagine stumbling into an illegal casino in an alleyway somewhere, winning your first game by chance, and immediately deciding to start playing there every night, with loaded dice, winning a lot and occasionally getting caught and getting your teeth kicked in.

Darrien did this, but he skipped a few steps. His new business plan went like this:

Put in a wager that he'll have a Bad Day.

Arrange to get seriously hurt and/or destroy one of your relationships, therefore having a Bad Day and winning the wager.

Profit

He spent several weeks knocking around the south of France, purposefully getting into fights (arguments with friends and brawls with strangers both) and accidents. He was getting harmed and isolated and felt it was all worth it because he got paid every time.

I'm going to give him a pass on never questioning how this worked, because at this point I'm fairly sure it's influence off the app itself. It's not constant supernaturalsurveillanceyou're looking for /Jedi hand-wave/ It's perfectly normal for your life's misfortunes to be monetizable. /Jedi hand-wave/ It's all good! Chill! /Jedi hand-wave/

What I can't just hand-wave is Darrien's grand finale. His famous One Last Job, then I Retire I Promise.

He 'invested' a million pounds (£ 1 000 000), burned all the bridges with his family, friends and even strangers on the internet, and then jumped off a cliff. A literal, honest to gods, not metaphorical cliff.

Sir. SIR. There's gambling with your life, and then there's this.

He lost one leg, along with structural integrity of several pretty important internal organs and bones – and he was happy upon waking, because he was (doped up on painkillers) already counting the money he was surely going to get.

Alas, reality check – this was the Find Out part of his ultimate round of Fuck Around.

He loaded his dice, he stacked his deck, he used his cheatcodes – it was only a matter of time before somebody noticed and demanded refund. (somebody knew all along – they were just waiting for the stakes to be really worth it).

This time, the app did not pay up. This time, the app called foul and demanded that he pay up – or be Adjusted.

Predictably, Darrien Laurel was not happy with this outcome and he wanted to Speak to the Manager of this Application.

He called the support line. He threatened the answerphone with legal consequences. (now they hear you). He told the answerphone his life story, up to and including his current hospitalization. (now they know you). And at the end, almost as an afterthought, he said his full name and app account number. (now they own you).

The answerphone dutifully transferred the call to adjustments department. Somebody from adjustments department crawled out of the phone and onto Darrien's bed. The call got disconnected. Darriel Laurel… got Adjusted.

Well. That sure was something. Final thoughts:

Remember when I yelled about Fae rules in case file 05-01? Do not take their money food, do not give them your name. Darriel broke those rules, and just look what happened! Well,

we don't actually know what happened. My first knee-jerk reaction was to say 'he got eated', but Personal Adjustment sounds… much more painful than just death by Mrs. Spider's mandibles. (I keep calling her that, but for some reason my mental image of that last scene is a weird metal centipede skittering out of the phone speaker that's much too small to fit it). I wonder if we'll meet Darriel, or at least some of him, again somewhere down the line. (Would he be like Needles, or more like Not-Arthur?) The incident happened about 6 month prior to Sam hearing it. Is that enough time for a new unholy abomination to incubate? Or… ripen? Whatever the 'adjustment' process entails.

This is the third time we've seen a man changing their fortune through pain. And we know it's possible to game the system successfully, because the 19th century violinist did it – he died of old age, more or less satisfied with his life. Mr. Die and Darrien could never. (Smh. Kids these days. No patience, no self-discipline).

This is… how many times now that we've seen someone's body being transformed? {Not-Arthur, RedCanary (? missing eyes at least), Daria(? - partial, self inflicted), Dr. 'Jasmine bush' Samuel, Cinema Tom(? - potentially), Needles(?), Mr. Bonzo(?), Error(?), Crypto Darrien} That's 3 up to 9, I think. Something definitely likes to play play-do with human flesh.

[tuwann]

social media is pushing their luck lately on all fronts. even when you understand their mindset these changes are risky - mainly operating under "social media is like a slot machine" kind of mindset, since thats effectively the same thing.

my point is: the best thing they can do is make it as easy as possible to use the website and develop addictions, any friction hurts this and this is why selling data is their strongest practice, *its invisible to the user*. ads, like promoted posts and such, are less intrusive. theyre just another post. ads, like how youtube does it, are very intrusive and frictional. ads still need to exist for data collection to be worth anything to the corporations, but from a social media companies perspective data collection weighs more on the scale.

but recently, theres been a few interesting developments. its not like ive been to shareholder meetings and can predict exactly what the baby eating ceos are thinking, but - i think they believe the addiction the average person has is so powerful over them that they can get away with putting more friction (or theyre just fucking stupid). the examples im talking about right now are twitters "$1 subscription" and youtube waging war on adblockers. twitters seems like just a fucking stupid descision but youtubes seems more calculated, but its still some big friction.

seriously the twitter thing is unbelieveably stupid friction if youve ever been like... on the internet without access to a credit card you know the difference between free and not free VERY well. the subscription idea will probably get dropped but if it somehow does go through like. every kid will not use it for certian, anyone who... yknow... evaluates the worth of the thing theyre buying even SLIGHTLY will quit, like... the only people that will remain are the blue checks who are not beating the nonsentient allegations. anyway.

i dont know how "normal people" use social media. i surround myself with people who are quite aware about the mass gangstalking of users and are generally above average in tech-proficiency. i dont know the social media habits of jimmy age 25. maybe jimmy will just deal with the friction, but the people i know are fairly averse to the friction and are just... using the sites less because of it. there doesnt really seem to be a stopping point in adding this friction until the site owners get burned somehow (unless youre twitter lol theyre gonna keep doing shit until the servers cant afford to be paid they have NO brakes). i guess we just have to see how much it takes for the lowest common denominator to get too annoyed with social media before sites stop their nonsense

uh, anyway, im gonna take a break from youtube until theres a way to use an adblock on it. a week? a month? never? well, thats fine. i quit reddit basically for good after the API change i can drop a site again if i need to

[saanphoenix]

Okay, I need to rant for a second because I'm driving a 2018 Hyundai, which means it's pretty decent when it comes to braking and shit, and the car that I was following on the highway, going 55 mph, is also driving a newer model of vehicle that's, y'know, modern day safety standards and pretty decent brakes, from what I can tell.

And this idiot, going 55 mph down the highway, decides--

There's a mailman over on the corner delivering mail. He's all the way on the shoulder. There's plenty of room to just, like...keep maintaining speed and go around this guy because, like, mailmen generally on this stretch of highway's not stupid enough to pull out to go to the next mailbox when there's four other vehicles coming up behind them. But anyway, this fucking idiot stops in the middle of the highway.

I looked over for a split second to check the water levels because there's a creek near the highway, and it's starting to flood, and--split second--when I looked back, the tail lights that I had been following were way closer than I they should have been, right? So I slammed on the brakes.

I was three to four car lengths away. I didn't get but two car lengths away when I slammed on the brakes. Because my brakes are that damn good. But. Like. Why are you coming to a dead stop in the middle of a highway? And then you just, like, move about two or three inches around this mailman. You could have kept going and done that. Why did you come to a stop? Are you fucking stupid?

[ave09]

drive

gk!harvey dent x wife!reader

note: i love writing these lmaooo

this one’s got a bit of angst, and the ending sorta sucks but whatevesss! the next one i wanna write is gonna me my interpretation of the two-face debocle, specifically when he actually becomes two-face (dc fans, y’all know what i mean 👀) bc i have a rlly fluffy and sad idea for it and now want nothing more then to write it. that’ll prolly be my last harvey imagine til i get more inspo from the next gotham knights episode. BUT! i also wanna start writing for other characters, mainly star wars and supernatural so if you have any ideas,pls message me!

———

“okay, where are we going?”

“now if i told you, that would ruin the surprise!” you exclaimed, glancing at your husband in the passenger seat. 

he was currently blindfolded, a mixture of curiosity and content written in his expression. harvey dent used to hate surprises. the anticipation, not knowing if he would like it or not, the stress was unbearable.

until you came along.

harvey dent now loved surprises. 

they were never for birthdays, or any sort of special occasion, it was just out of the blue. he’d come home from work very late and you’d be waiting with a surprise dinner of all his favorites, or on his off days, you’d wake him up bright and early, shove him in the car and drive until you reached your secret destination. 

it was moments like these that harvey looked forward to the most. he never had anyone love him and treat him this way, and he was beyond grateful to have you. 

“are we almost there?”

“are you a child?”

harvey laughed at this, “well, we’ve been driving forever, and i’m starting to think that maybe this isn’t a surprise, but you’re actually taking me out here to murder me.”

you scoffed jokingly, “right and leave lincoln march as mayor, you’ve discovered my plan, guess i gotta kill you now.”

you both erupted into a fit of laughter, but it was interrupted by the sound of your phone ringing. “harv, could you-“

“i’m blind right now, darling.” 

“well, i guess you could take it off for a second, can you check my phone?“ you didn’t know who could be calling you, but it never hurt to check. 

harvey pulled the blindfold up, ruffling his hair in the process as he reached for your small purse, shuffling through the contents until he found the phone. his light eyes narrowed, causing anxiety to claw at you. 

“why is a psychiatrist calling you?”

shit. shit. shit. 

“oh, must be a wrong number.”

stupid. stupid. stupid.

“you have her number saved.” 

his voice was stern. not angry, not disappointed, but upset. you suddenly were aware that you knew exactly what was going on. 

“harvey-“

“you were calling about me, weren’t you?“ a sigh slipped past your lips, and he had his answer. 

“are you fucking kidding me?”

“harvey-“

“i told you, i’m fine! i’m just stressed!” he exclaimed, annoyance lacing his tone. “i thought you were fine too.” you said, trying to keep your temper at bay and keep your focus on the road.

“oh yeah, and what changed that?” 

subconsciously, your foot pressed down on the gas pedal, unease settling in your stomach, “the other day, you called me. and it was as though you were a completely different person.” you began, but was interrupted by harvey shouting, “watch out!!” your gaze turned back on the road and you realized you had drifted lanes. so you did what any sane person would do and pulled off road, slamming on the brakes until you came to a halted stop in a ditch. 

heavy breathes filled the air as you tried to recover from the rush of adrenaline. in that moment you were fearful that you’re last moments on earth were going to be in the middle of an argument with your husband.

thank God, He’d given you another day. 

the man recovered quicker than you did. harvey furrowed his brows, tilting his head slightly, “what are you talking about..?”

“exactly. and you told me that you had simply ‘zoned out’. harv, that’s never happened before. and i’m scared.”

“scared of me?” his voice was soft, and it almost broke you. “no. scared for you.” you corrected, your voice slightly breaking. 

“honey..”

he reached across the seat, taking your hand, “i’m gonna be okay. nothing’s gonna happen. but if it makes you feel better, i’ll go see the psychiatrist.”

you glanced at him, “you will?”

harvey nodded, “anything for you, my love.” 

a smile tugged at your lips, and everything seemed okay. 

“but can you promise me something?” 

“anything.”

a devilish smile appeared on his face as a gravelly voice spoke, “promise me that you’ll never speak another word of this. and if ya do, i’ll gut you like a fish.” 

[curseofaphrodite]

How about the song ‘Seventeen’ by the Midnight with Steve Harrington?

CITY DREAMS | fluff

steve harrington x reader, no pronouns

You had just got your license, a fact that you were almost TOO proud of. You were happy enough to drive your dad's car through the neighborhood, occasionally howling with happiness. But as the road stretched on and the small houses morphed into city buildings, you didn't check the time or turn back.

A big part of you has always wanted this nighttime adventure.

Steve Harrington was almost freaking out. It was the first time he had come to visit the city, and like the idiot he was, he forgot the bus back to Hawkins only arrived once every day. He was stranded in every meaning of the word.

"Fuck!" he yelled out in frustration, kicking dust. He had walked as far as his feet could allow, but due to the darkness and his lack of local knowledge, he was surely, extremely, brilliantly lost.

He was not even in the city now, but going back seemed even more of a bad idea. Besides, if he walked anymore, his feet would fall out.

A light- no wait, two lights started growing bigger in the distance. Steve laughed in relief as a car came skidding down. It was coming fast, as if it was being driven by death herself. He had to think quick, which wasn't his forte.

So he threw himself to the middle of the road.

----

You hit the brakes, gasping.

----

He closed his eyes instinctively, but when he realized he hadn't been blown into smithereens, he slowly opened them again.

"Hi! Hey! Hello there!" he said hastily, coming up to the window, trying not to appear like a murderer. "Can I hitch a ride?"

"I'm not letting you in my dad's car when your hair looks THAT greasy," you said, earning a shocked gasp. "Also, you seem creepy in general."

He adjusted his eyes to squint, then saw you clearly for the first time. He accidentally held his breath.

"Wow, you're pretty."

"Okay, now you seem more creepy."

Steve quickly shook his head and cursed himself.

"No, just hear me out! Hawkins, do you know Hawkins? It's only a little distance from here but I don't know where I am- just help me out please."

"I can give you the directions," you said, sighing. "Walk for 20 minutes and you'll see a gas station. Turn right and ask for the church. You'll be on track by then."

"20 minutes? I have to walk for 20 more minutes?" he groaned, but then immediately backtracked his words. "You know what, you've been plenty of help. Thank you, I'll- I better get going."

"What were you doing out here anyway?" you asked just as he was about to straighten up. Maybe it was the guilt talking, but he did seem exhausted.

"I had to get some documents signed for my friend's college application. He sucks at official stuff. Didn't think it'd get so late."

"You're in college?"

"Gods no," he laughed. "I work part-time scooping ice cream. It's fun, I get a costume."

"Let me guess, magician?"

"Pfft, I'm a sailor."

You snorted. "I can totally see it."

"Surprisingly, it's one look I can't pull off," he shrugged. You didn't know what to say to that, so you opened the passenger door.

"Get in," you muttered half-heartedly.

"Are you sure—?"

"Just get in before I change my mind."

"Okay, okay!" His eyes lit up. He quickly sat inside and closed the door shut. "My name's Steve by the way. Steve Harrington."

You turned on the keys. "You can't be Steve Harrington. That's the name of the guy who screwed over my best friend."

"In that case, my name is Johnathan Harrington, his twin nice brother."

You laughed. "You're not as douchebag-y as she said, I'll give you that."

"Best compliment all week."

"You owe me ice cream," you said, starting the car properly.

As you drove down the street, Steve kept nervously rambling on, a trait he picked up from Robin.

Why, one may wonder. Simply said, it was the middle of the night — he was hungry, cold, and tired. Besides, whenever he turned sideways while talking, he'd say the most stupid shit and had to start over again.

Really fucking pretty, he thought, getting distracted every time.

[poppunkpedro]

Javier Peña x Fem!OC

Midnight (a narcos short story)

Description: Javier Peña comes to the rescue. Every time. Without fail. But why? Olivia Keyes couldn't be sure, but she wasn't too thrilled about it.

Chapter 1:

I walk down the street, upset and tired as only I could be over something so stupid. Of course I was put onto this case with Javier freakin' Peña! Me! Him!

    I mean, of course they don't know our history. They don't know how I hate him, how I've had to be at his mercy before, how he saved me and now holds it over my head. I'll show him one day. I'll fucking show him.

    I walk down the cracked sidewalk and look down at my phone. Midnight. The chill of the late night Colombian air finally starts to settle onto my skin and I know that this is the way I die. Freezing.

Okay, okay. I'm being a bit dramatic there.

    I look up at the sky, stopping in my tracks, and wonder what to do. Do I just accept being put onto this with Javier? Do I fight back? I mean, I was brought here to help with Escobar. But. Still.

    I hear the rumbling of a car engine coming up the road and I turn to look, my curiosity getting the best of me. I see the ever-familiar jeep and groan as I begin to pick up my pace. The car rolls up next to me, the window down.

    "Gettin' kinda chilly out there." Javier states and I stop in my tracks abruptly, causing him to press on the brakes.

    I glare at him but don't answer him as he doesn't deserve any satisfaction of the fact that I am cold. I untangle my arms from each other and turn to start walking again.

    "You need a ride?" He questions, nodding at me.

    I scoff and turn back to look at him. "I don't need anything, thank you very much. Especially from you."

    He parks his car and hops out, jogging to where I'm standing. He leans against the car and looks at me. "Not even a drink?"

    "You think you can just... get me drunk? What? So I can get into trouble and you can save me again?" I raise my eyebrows at him, questioning him in silence now.

    He crosses his ankles, knowing he's bound to be in for a bit of yelling and shrugs. "Not exactly."

    "You know what? You can't go around being everyone's savior, Peña. 'Specially not mine, 'cause I won't let you." I throw my hands up in exasperation and just stare at him. I don't know why I don't walk away. Maybe I wanted to see his reaction. Maybe I just wanted to see him.

    He clears his throat, ready to say something, but then drags a hand down his face in frustration. Is he battling himself? That's what it looks like. He pulls his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket on the front of his shirt and takes one out. He offers it to me and I shake my head. I'm not of the smoker kind. He shrugs smally and places it in his mouth, lighting it with his lighter.

    The cigarette begins to glow with the illusion of embers in a fireplace. I roll my eyes as he places it inbetween his lips. I notice, as he is putting away the pack of cigarettes, that his shirt is a little tighter than it should be. It hugs his frame nicely, showing off his muscles, even if he isn't extremely built. I find myself checking him out and ridicule me in my mind. What the hell? What am I doing?

    I let out a huff and look at him pointedly. "What the hell do you want, Peña?"

    He looks up at me, removes the cig from his lips, and smirks. "Why do you hate me so much?"

    I groan. In annoyance, in amusement, in.... I don't know... regret? Why is he asking this? Like a little kid who just wants to know what they've done. Maybe I've been cruel, but he'll never understand. Men never do.

    I choose to be defensive, it's my best tactic. I need him to leave. "God, could you be more arrogant? You think everything is about you, when really it isn't!"

    "You like me so much you can't stand to be around me." He smirks, his guess as wrong as ever. For a DEA Agent he is quite bad at guessing games.

    I need him to leave, now.

    "Cocky as ever, aren't you?" I roll my eyes and begin to start walking again.

    I leave, because he wasn't going to. Because otherwise I don't know if I would have been able to contain myself. Because, I don't know, he's actually kind when it comes down to it and I'm just simply... not?

    The jeep roars up next to me again and I groan. Again. But internally this time. I don't stop walking. I can't. I don't trust myself.

    "It's dangerous out there." He tells me and I shake my head.

    "I can take care of myself, Peña! I've been doing it all my life." I growl out, upset that he's even trying. God, why does he actually have to be a gentleman sometimes.

    "I know you can. You could take me down fully, I believe that. Just come on, let me drive you home. Make sure you're safe." He raises his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling as the dim streetlights dance across the brown of his irises.

    I don't know why I do it, maybe it was the way he pleaded, or his not-able-to-resist puppy dog look, but this time I open the door. I climb into the car, slam the door shut, and buckle up.

    He puts his hand out. "Easy now, this is my car."

    I hear his Texan southern drawl shine through his words and it makes me smile. I shouldn't be smiling around him. I shouldn't even be in his car. Yet, here I am.

    He drives me home and when he walks me to my apartment door, I turn to him. I didn't say anything the whole car ride and now here we are. In front of my door.

    I realize how intimate this feels and immediately feel repulsed by the fact that I am enjoying his company. I can't believe myself. He leans against the wall and checks me out, practically undressing me with his eyes.

    "Thanks, Javier." I nod and turn to unlock my door, but struggle. I can see him watching my every move in my peripheral. It's startling me.

    Does he like me? Why is he acting like this? Being so nice? He grabs the key from me when he notices I'm struggling way more than I should be and gazes at me.

    "You sure you don't want that drink?" He asks genuinely, turning to unlock the door for me. "You seem anxious."

     "Because you keep staring at me like that." I mumble and open the door.

    I walk into my apartment, placing the keys in the bowl where I always place them, and kicking my shoes off where I always kick them off. I turn then, realizing I forgot to wish him safe travels as I do with everyone and hoping he isn't gone yet. I stop, my eyes wandering his figure as he's leaned in the doorway. His arms are crossed, as are his ankles, and he is staring me down.

    Like he's devouring me with his mind.

    I go breathless, my thoughts becoming cloudy, and my vision hyper-focusing on the way his arm veins are prominent when he crosses his arms. Why is he having this effect on me? I hate him. I hate him! Do I hate him?

    "I..." I begin, but can't seem to find my words.

    "You're very particular." His eyes travel from the keys in the bowl to the shoes on the floor and then back to me.

    I regain composure slightly, trying to pull myself together. "I was going to... wish you safe travels. As I do that with everyone. As a niceity."

    "I'll be off then, you call me if you need me. For anything." He kicks off the door frame and closes the door, nodding to me as he walks out.

    My eyes dart to the window to watch him as he walks past it. What am I doing? Why is he being so nice? I slump down into one of my kitchen chairs and stare out of the window.

    Alone again.

Chapter Two coming soon!!

[kurorosbetrothed]

𝓜𝓻𝓼. 𝓛𝓾𝓬𝓲𝓵𝓯𝓮𝓻

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭. 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞. 𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞. 𝐋𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞.

𝟨. 𝖢𝖮𝖭𝗙𝖮𝖴𝖭𝖣

⧏♱⧐

“How fucking stupid,” Rafit complained as he drove off infuriated after he had dropped you at the headquarters. 

He just didn't understand why he had to deal with your ass all the time. He loathed you. And for what? 

No matter how much he wanted to think of a reason there was nothing. It annoyed him. Speeding up he didn't notice the woman crossing the road. 

As their eyes unexpectedly met Rafit instantly hit the brakes and spun the wheel to avoid colliding with the lady who was crossing the road unaware of the speeding car. 

Barely avoiding hitting the lady, Rafit raised his head and immediately tried to find the woman.

“Fuck.” Rafit cursed as he hurriedly got out of the car and saw the woman trembling with her arms wrapped around herself.

At the sight, he immediately ran towards her. He could tell she was shaken up and startled. 

The woman had ginger-colored tresses which were elaborately dressed with ribbons. 

Her face where slight freckles could be seen was pale and her eyes were silver gray.

As he put a hand on her shoulder the woman turned to look at him surprisingly. 

Noticing her alarmed gaze, he attempted to softly speak to her. 

“Are you alright? I’m sorry for scaring you, I lost my damned control and sped up my car without knowing you were crossing the road.”

“I..”

She paused momentarily to check if the man standing in front of her had gotten hurt in any way. 

She was still stunned but she needed to make sure that he had not been harmed. 

After all, it might've been his fault for not being careful however he had just saved her. 

Raising her hand towards his face, she placed a hand on his cheek where a bruise could be seen. 

When he felt her fingers, he flinched; he had not been touched with such gentleness since his childhood. 

He was no stranger to women and had felt their hands on all parts of his body, but her touch made him feel like he belonged someplace.

Both of them stood staring at each other confusingly.

Unknowingly Rafit’s face slightly turned red and so did hers. She ripped her hand away from his face after realizing what she was doing.

“Apologies! I’m perfectly and completely fine, you do not need to worry yourself over me!” She sputtered embarrassingly while she turned her back towards him and covered her face with her hands, entirely forgetting about how she almost got run over by a car.

Eventually snapping out of his thoughts he put on a stern face and said “Well that's all I needed to hear, I must be on my way now.” 

Turning to leave he suddenly halted as he heard the woman speak again.

“Thank you.” 

Looking back he was mesmerized by the gentleness that could be seen in her eyes.

From those eyes came a sense of home, a home that he once had. 

Now never to be remembered.

...

“A contract?” You questioned as you gazed at Manote suspiciously.

“Yes, it's for your own good as well. I've heard that you have been having difficulties in your work nowadays..”

At the statement, you pursed your lips. You understood what he was hinting at, the constant bickering never stopped about how you were slowly becoming useless. 

It ticked you off in ways that could not be defined as it was all bullshit.

“Are you suggesting.. that I am not dependable anymore?” You questioned as you folded your arms straining to suppress your anger.

“I believe you have taken my words the wrong way Y/N, what I am trying to explain is that Mr. Kuroro here is willing to aid you,” Manote spoke and motioned to the man who was now seated beside you.

A few moments slowly passed as you sat thinking.

“The conditions Mr. Kuroro?” You inquired, breaking the silence that had dawned over the room.

You turned your head towards him and continued. “If you are going to sign the contract then you must have your own conditions as well.”

Looking at your serious face his lips curved into a smile.

Beginning to speak, “You are indeed correct-”

“How about you two discuss this later together alone after we’re done hm?” Manote cut in subtly with a debatable expression.

You immediately became suspicious after he had just stopped Kuroro from answering your questions; however, this was exactly what you were waiting for.

You weren't that stupid to just believe that this was simply a contract.

Of course, if this was arranged by him, there would undoubtedly be underlying motives. Manote would never waste a chance to use you more than he already has. 

However, the real question was what part did the man who was sitting next to you have in this?

“Here is the contract,” Manote said as he passed the contract to you.

As you picked up the paper your jaw slightly dropped.

“Mr. Kuroro has already signed it so you are the only one left,” he continued.

“Is this.. real?” You asked in disbelief.

Anyone could tell how shocked you were as you scanned the paper thoroughly over and over again, your eyes never leaving the paper.

“Of course, it is Y/N you wouldn't think I would give you a fake contract now, would you?”

A.. marriage contract.

You knew there would be something that you weren't aware of that would be thrown in your face. 

But this... this was something you certainly didn't even hold as a possibility, previously thinking that it would be a normal business contract.

Could you so easily sign such a contract that you couldn't go back from?

But if this was only for business as Manote had said then it wouldn't be as bad as you were thinking.

Right?

Taking a deep breath you began to sign the contract denying all the invading thoughts. 

For the decisions you make are not something that you can later on regret otherwise by now you would've killed yourself of the guilt that would consume you whole.

Turning back is not a choice that you could have. 

Placing the pen back down on the paper you raised your head and felt a sense of perturbation fall over you, foreboding even.

[anthonysstupiddailyblog]

Anthony’s Stupid Daily Blog (364): Thu 16th Mar 2023

While I was watching the New Japan show I started to wonder what Japans covid restrictions were like nowadays because eventually I want to travel to Tokyo for the Wrestle Kingdom event. While I was doing this it dawned on me: what are the USA’s covid restrictions? I’m going there in less than three weeks and it never occurred to me or Dad to ask the travel agents or the post office cunts. I checked the gov.uk website and it said that you need to provide proof of at least double vaccination when you go which is fucking good to know. I requested a COVID pass from the NHS website which it sent me immediately. Fuck my dog it was lucky that I looked into this or else we might have been denied entry to the States and I would have had to stay in customs for the entire holiday. Richard E Grant is doing a live tour and Richard Herring encouraged his followers who are going to the show to ask him why he won't allow the interview he did with him to go out. I was tempted to buy a ticket just so I could do this but I have a very expensive holiday coming up not to mention the costs the getting my bike fixed again will incur so it wouldn't be wise to spend a sizable amount of money just to ask a question to an actor that I'm not even a fan of a question that I only sort of want to know the answer which he probably won't even answer. If I did he would probably just roll his eyes and ask for the next question or it might piss him off and he might have me thrown out which would be very embarrassing and being a Lakers fan I have suffered enough embarrassment this year to last me a lifetime. I did wonder what the legality would be if Richard were to write up a transcript of the interview and then act it out with Ian Boldsworth playing the part of Richard E Grant. In order to stop an NHS strike the government have finally given in and agreed to pump an extra £2.6 billion into the NHS and give workers a 4% pay rise. I'm happy for the NHS staff who will finally be fairly compensated for their hard work and while I know there will be some idiots who criticise the staff for going on strike sometimes you make very reasonable requests but the government refuse to acknowledge you which is when you need to take drastic action. I always wonder what the critics of the strikes would do if they were in the NHS staff's shoe. If they were working 50 hours a week, making shit money, barely able to pay their bills and even having to pay for their own parking space and they asked the government to do something to rectify this and the government responded by saying there wasn't enough money left in the budget and then gave themselves a pay rise for doing fuck all, how would they react? Would they just shrug and say "Well, them's the brakes" and go back to work on foot because they can't even afford a bus while munching a raw turnip?

[khodorkovskaya]

29.12.22

sooo i had the driving lesson this morning and uhhh... i don't know if it went well or not.

at the beginning i was super confident and then... the instructor stopped me and gave his verdict. basically everything im doing is wrong. the way i hold the steering wheel is wrong, i brake too late and, most importantly, i don't ever do the RTI. and i was like huh what is the RTI? apparently it's the number one thing they check for during the exam: you have to look (1) in the rearview mirror, (2) in the side mirror and (3) turn your head before you do anything. you have to do the three things in order every time. and i didn't know that... 😅 i only look in the side mirror and turn my head if i have to switch lanes and that's it. but you have to do it very often.

it makes sense why i feel like i never understand where im going when im behind the wheel. because i only look ahead. and no one ever told me that i have to look around too. and it's so stupid now that i say it. like duhh you have to look around while driving. but i never did bc i never thought about it.

when i went driving with B it was only when my stepdad asked me if my rearview mirror was adjusted that i realised that i could look in the rearview mirror... i drove around for weeks without ever looking in the rearview mirror...... and now it's the same thing. i drove around without ever looking around myself and didn't know i was supposed to do that...

so yeah the instructor said that he doesn't understand how i thought that i was fit to do the exam. he said i don't even have the basics and all i need to do now is do figure eights around the parking lot. he said i need 40 to 50 more hours of lessons before going to the exam. the problem is i only have my student license until april and if i fail i will have to redo theory all over again. and i can't afford driving lessons with an instructor.

so my first instinct was to give up on driving all together. this whole experience has been so painful and i have no idea how everyone does it! everyone ive met had passed their license on the first try and learned to drive in only a couple of weeks! meanwhile ive struggled so much with basically no progress. ive had my student license since summer of 2020 and im still at the level of doing figure eights at a parking lot. like idk i think im just r-word. like i just can't comprehend how people can balance so many things and look left and right and look at the road and read road signs and push pedals and switch gears and steer and quickly react to things all at the same time. like im not stupid, right? but why can everyone drive and i find it impossibly difficult?

in conclusion, my stepdad and i decided it would be best for me to go to therapy bc i have issues i need to resolve to be able to learn how to drive and not struggle so much. maybe im traumatised from driving with B. maybe it's my adhd. who knows. i haven't decided yet but im gonna do either cbt or nlp therapy to help me overcome my mental blocks. bc the struggle is real.

like idk. when i drove for the very first time when i didn't even have my student license, my stepdad told me that i was quite gifted and he was pleasantly surprised. i understood things quickly and progressed very well in a short amount of time. and then i started driving with B. and it all went downhill from there. and ever since i started driving with my stepdad again it's been catastrophic. i cry every time im in the car, i can't concentrate etc etc. and i don't even remember driving with B that much tbh. plus he had a manual! i have no idea how i managed to drive a manual! i remember just wishing for it all to be over and dissociating and crying. and i think that really fucked me up.

so yeah, i have until april to do the exam and i'll try my best and go to therapy to see what's up with this whole driving thing. and if i don't pass the exam then whatever, i'll try again in a couple of years when i'll be better in the head. hopefully.

[haruhey]

Butterflies

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Word count: 6k

Fluff | Imagined Smut | Filth February Prompt 3

A bike crash and a late night infirmary visit makes Daryl realize something.

or

Like I’m hypnotized, I’m drawn closer, butterflies I follow the never ending blue sky In this world filled with just us My whole heart, slowly Melts away slowly

God, fuck, fuck, fuck.

This isn’t good. This isn’t good in the fucking slightest.

In fact, it might be the worst case scenario.

Taking off his vest, he throws it over one of his shoulders and stretches out his hurt arm, wincing at the pain shooting up it and watching blood trail down his elbow to his fingertips and then to the ground, fat drops of it absorbed into the dirt. Fuck, he should have known this is what he’d get for a late night bike ride - should have taken a second of consideration before yelling at those Alexandrians to open the gates and let him out - and now, he has to pick up his bike and wheel it back, one arm crimson coated from a considerately placed tree branch, and a huge pull of road rash down his body as a reward.

Hands on the handlebar, he gathers all the strength he can possibly muster and lugs the hulking piece of metal back onto its two wheels. Something must have blown out. He must have installed something wrong - must have been that spring he knew looked a little too big for the brakes - and he feels like a wounded animal, returning home with its tail between its legs.

To make it worse? He hasn’t managed to swipe some of the shit he needs to patch himself up with yet, and that means he has to go to the infirmary. And going to the infirmary also happens to mean that he has a chance of seeing that cute girl he’s only managed to actually bump into a handful of times in passing.

The moon is high in the night sky, shining bright enough to allow him to maneuver through the expanse of trees and find the walls with little trouble, but it wouldn’t matter if it wasn’t, honestly. He just needed a month to live in Alexandria for him to know the woods better than anyone else, and only half his mind is occupied with finding what Daryl’s been urging himself into calling home.

He’s relying on that autopilot to get him back because, like so many nights recently, he finds his thoughts running to that same cute girl he’s caught himself hoping he could see one too many times when he’d bring down supplies from a run to be stocked. He finds his thoughts running to you.

He hates it - despises that fact.

No, he doesn’t, but that’s the problem. He thinks he might actually have just the slightest, tiniest, tiniest little bit of a soft spot for you, and what he hates the most is how he thinks he’s had it since he’d met you - too many thoughts muddling his mind about that night he skipped the welcome party and exchanged vaguely muttered words with you over Aaron and Eric’s spaghetti - and it scares him.

He knows nearly nothing about you - though, it’s not for a lack of trying, since he’s asked Carol and Rick and even Rosita about you for the past week straight that he thinks they might be onto him - but you keep to yourself so well, allowing him and everyone else to only tack a few adjectives onto you.

Loyal. Dependable. Strong. Authentic.

Maybe that’s why he likes you.

You’re like him, in a way. But you’re so different from him, too - more likable, that’s for damn sure.

Reaching the gates, he grunts a ‘thanks’ to the people at gate duty, feeling a little guilty at the way he’d yelled at them just under an hour ago to let him leave, and he can feel them studying him with a pierce of disdain as he keeps his eyes to the ground, wiping at a line of blood trickling down the side of his face.

Shit, when did he get that?

At the same time you got everything else, dipshit.

Daryl parks his bike outside his garage, scrunching his eyes shut and pressing the back of his hand against his forehead to try and rid that stupid voice in his brain that’s become such a presence, and he ambles his way to the infirmary after throwing his vest onto his seat. The leather of his belt cuts up into the road rash on his abdomen with each step, and he winces before deciding to pull it fully free from himself, draping it over his bike’s seat before sighing in relief when he can walk without it chafing against his reddened skin.

Clearing his throat, he leans an arm on one of the pillars, resting his head against it and closing his eyes as he leaves a red marking on the white paint, and he raises a blood-dripping hand to knock at the door, grimacing at the droplets hitting the porch below him. He’s already caused enough trouble for these Alexandrians - pissing off the people at the gate is one thing, but he doesn’t need to piss off whoever’s going to stitch him up, too.

The second he hears the door squeak, he opens his eyes and he feels his eyebrows shoot clear up his forehead when he notices you, lantern in hand and lifted to his height so you can study his state. Swallowing, he shakes his bangs from his obscuring his face almost instinctively, straightening up to his full height before adjusting the way his vest rests across him with a weird wiggle of his shoulders.

He only manages to catch what the hell he’s doing - only manages to catch how fucking weird he’s behaving - when he goes to wipe his slightly clammy hands on his jeans, them nearly dropping from him because he’d forgotten the fact he’s not wearing a fucking belt, and a feeling sinks to the base of his stomach.

No, no, no.

Why does he care if his hair falls right? If his vest frames his arms right? He’s never cared about any of that shit before.

No, he still doesn’t care.

He doesn’t care what he looks like in front of you.

He doesn’t care because he doesn’t.

“Oh, wow, you don’t look too good.”

Your phrasing breaks from Daryl from his thoughts, and he can’t be bothered to hide the scoff of amusement crawling up his throat, the millisecond that would have been occupied by a quick filter between his brain and mouth already too busy wondering why the fuck his body had reacted like that to you. Though, when he really thinks about it, he might have laughed regardless.

There’s a humour in your nonchalance, and it’s charming, in an odd sort of way.

“Yeah, don’t feel it, neither.”

A huff of entertainment escapes you at that, and he watches one side of your mouth lilt up, stepping inside when you outstretch a lantern holding hand for him in invitation.

“Just stay a little quiet, okay? There was an accident at the construction site the other day, so we have a couple of people upstairs still recovering.”

He nods along and follows you down the hall, craning his neck as he looks around for Denise or Rosita because damn it, there’s no fucking way he’ll be able to be around just you and not embarass himself further. He’s thought about being alone with you so many times - he’d stared up at his ceiling like some kid, thinking about what he might do and what he might say to you if he got the chance - but now that he actually is, everything he’s ever considered evades him like sand through his fingers.

And he’s never felt this way before. Not even in the old world when he’d seen women wear flashy dresses that reflected the club’s fluorescent and painted their eyes so seductively he’d go with a group of five guys only to leave with four. It’s weird, he guesses, since you’ve got an old hoodie on - Daryl knows because there’s faded oil stains on them from what he can only assume is from cooking, and it looks like you’ve picked at the sleeve seams one too many times if the fraying thread means anything - and though you’ve got more holes than letters in the bolded ‘class of ‘87’ written down the side of your pant legs, you look pretty put together.

You look… you look good.

Shit, why is he thinking about that?

“There’s, uh, there’s nobody else around. It’s just me working graveyard tonight, sorry.”

It takes a second for him figure out you’re referring to his wandering eyes, and Daryl mumbles out an apology as he takes a seat down on the medical exam table - which, in reality, is just a bedframe with a couple of thin mattresses stacked onto it for some comfort - because, fuck, did he make you feel uncomfortable?

“Nah, it’s, uh, no problem. Was just lookin’. Y’know, around.”

An acknowledging hum sounds from you, and he breathes out a light sigh of relief when he hears no sharp edge to it, swallowing hard when you move towards him.

“Would it be okay if you take off your shirt?”

You tilt your head at that, and his mouth falls open before he stops himself from stuttering a ‘what?’, blinking at you once, then twice, before realizing you’re a goddamn professional and, though the sound of your whispered voice and your presence in general is doing something to him that he can’t quite pinpoint, him taking off his shirt isn’t going to lead to anything other than you putting some bandages on him.

So he does, not even realizing you’ve turned your eyes away to give him some privacy as his usually steady hands start to fumble with the shirt’s little plastic buttons, and he shucks it off, placing it over his lap and grunting from the pain of lifting his arm, the sound acting as a collateral signal of finality. Your hair glides through the air when you face him again, and he finds it hard to look at anything else but you when your eyes crinkle in just the smallest ghost of a smile.

“I promise you’re in good hands. Just don’t look too close at them.”

He watches as you extend one of those ‘good hands’ - slowly, as if to give him enough time to pull away - and he watches as you scrunch your eyebrows, pulling your lips into a line when you see his still warm blood lining the gash along his forehead. But he doesn’t, and after another second he spends studying you the same, he feels soft fingers brush against the skin of his torso, crawling up to his arms.

Your touches, they make him warm.

And, with little help of the softly glowing lantern held in your other hand, he notices just how pretty you are. It’s disarming - knocks the breath out of him for a second because holy shit, he’s sure people like you only exist in those crooning love songs and those crappy lines of poetry he was forced to read in high school - and, damn it, is he blushing?

“Alright, so, it looks like you just have superficial abrasions along your abdomen and arms but, judging by the state of your jeans, I think they shielded most of your lower half from a lot of the debris and damage.”

Your voice brings him back to reality like a haymaker thrown to his jaw, stealing him from the glint of starlight he finds in the corner of your eye, and he bites his lip, his gaze instead sliding over the expanse of your desk to keep him present.

“Unless you have any particular concerns with your road rash, I’m just gonna ignore it for now and send you some off with some ointment after I take care of your other wounds, cool?”

Daryl nods along with your words, finding himself distracted from you through studying the trinkets lining the deep mahogany - a whetstone next to a hunting knife, a composition notebook next to a textbook open on what looks to be a diagram of a stomach, a big ‘thank you’ card written in a prepubescent scrawl next to a little flower crown that must have been made by those same hands - and he feels something stir alight in him.

“The ointment’s made by yours truly, so it won’t be quite as effective as, like, Polysporin or Neosporin, but they all smell like different flowers, so that’s a win, I guess?”

But then you smile as you whisper out your words, laughing lightly at the end and grazing his temples with such a tender touch, and he can’t help but to slide his eyes back to you. He thinks rays of sunshine bloom from you - white, yellow, orange and warm, too bright for a world like this one - and he that something returns. A tug, a pull, a draw, but all towards you.

He doesn’t know anything about you - Daryl has to remind himself of that - but now, when his heart is beating through his chest like he’s never felt before, he wants to. More than those runaway nights spent thinking about you could ever clue into.

The first syllable of your name is on the tip of his tongue, but before he can speak, you clear your throat, licking your bottom lip as you rise to your full height and walk to your desk. Placing the lantern down next to the wilted flower crown, it takes just a second - one precarious second - for you to turn your back to him and grab the hem of your hoodie to pull it off, and he feels his eyes bulge out of his fucking head at the way the movement makes your sweater ride up. He’s screaming at himself to look away and give you some privacy, but when his brain finally manages to load through to his body, the gray fabric drops back into place.

“How bad are you with needles?”

You speak softly over the sound of a metal drawer being pulled open, and he manages to stutter a ‘fine’ at the sight of you bent over slightly in search for whatever it is you want, mind still muddy from that sliver of skin. A heat pools in his stomach then, and he swallows down his thoughts. They were so innocent before, how had they changed so quickly?

Fuck, fuck, look away.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he folds and folds his shirt, piling the fabric high before placing it back over his lap and continues to stare. He watches you pull out a handheld flashlight, clicking it on before smacking it against your palm when it flickers, and he tastes the rush of blood when he accidentally tears a piece of dead skin off his chapped lips.

Look away.

But he doesn’t, furtive eyes following your shadowed figure as you shuffle your way to those standing shelves in the corner, gathering your materials into a slightly rusted metal tray before making your way back to your desk. Only when he hears the click of the lantern turning off - only when the knowledge that you’ll face him in just a moment and he can’t hide his greed behind the lack of light settles in him - does he finally look away.

You’re magnetic to him. Inescapable.

“Alright, cool, that’s good. The lacerations on your arm and forehead are gonna need stitches, so sit tight.”

Daryl takes in every inch of skin exposed to him when you roll up your sleeves, feeling one of those old Victorian men from how his throat threatens to close up at the sight, and it truly does when he looks up just in time to see the way your lips wrap around the handle of your flashlight, keeping it between your teeth in order to angle it correctly with the movement of your jaw as you thread the needle in your hands.

Oh fuck, his brain isn’t going to shut up about this. He knows it isn’t. Not now, and certainly not when he’s out of here and alone.

So he tightens his grip on the shirt carefully folded over his crotch, and refuses to meet your eyes even as you make your way to him, but it turns out to be a shitty plan because you take his panic for anxiety, and your remedy is to comfort and calm what you assume to be an apprehension of your skill.

“Hey, don’t worry. I’m good. Promise”

It’s shitty because you place your palm on his shoulder and squeeze in an attempt to calm his overheating skin. It’s shitty because your words - muffled by the source of light illuminating from your mouth - makes him think of how you would sound if you just subbed in a couple of words and said them under a different circumstance. Under his roof, maybe? Under his sheets? Under his hands? Maybe under yours?

Maybe you’d tell him not to worry as he pressed his lips down your neck and down your chest - down, down, down until they pressed up against your thighs and there was no second guessing what was coming next. He’s never done that before. Not sober, at least. He would need it, your reassurance.

Daryl’s got a penchant for overthinking - it’s an odd dichotomy, considering the impulse in his Dixon genes fuel a few too many things in his life, too - and, even in those moments shared between Aaron and Eric’s spaghetti and the moments now, he knows your tenderness would pull him out of his head. He knows you’d whisper gentle words of encouragement into his ear and tell him ‘don’t worry’ as he feeds his desire to please you.

Maybe you’d tell him he’s good. Maybe you’d tell him he makes you feel good. Maybe you’d tell him you don’t want anyone else because of it.

Fuck, no, no, no. If he’s going to survive your touches and your voice and your stupidly pretty everything, he needs to stop his caveman brain from thinking a single thought.

“Daryl? Hello? Are you ready?”

“Huh?”

His own voice surprises him, but you don’t give his uncertainty a second thought, waving your needle and thread in front of his face. Right, shit, he vaguely remembers your ‘we’ll start when you’re ready’ between the fabricated sounds of your breathy cries, but that had only opened the floodgates for more thoughts and-

No, shut the fuck up, stupid brain.

“Yeah. Yeah, ‘m ready. Do your worst.”

Clearing his throat, he turns his head away as you advance on his arm, a surety so present in your gaze and touch that, even if he was prone to medical anxiety, he’s sure you’d quell that fear without words. He tries to act normal - he really, really, really tries - but he’s sitting ramrod straight while you wipe blood from him with a damp towel, arms flexing and relaxing as he keeps trying and trying not to do whatever it is he’s currently doing.

“You wanna talk? It helps distract you from all this… suture stuff. We could have a conversation, if you want.”

Evidently, he’s shit at hiding it, too.

Risking a glance at you, he catches the glint of genuine concern in your eye, and nods along, more for your comfort than his. It’s weird, how much he actually wants to accept your offer, because this, this is his chance to get to know you. This is his chance, and he wants to take it.

“Ye- yeah. Sure. Conversation sounds nice.”

So he does, and though he kicks himself at the sound of his stutter, when the corner of your lips curl up into a tentative smile, he can’t seem to think back to a time before it. To be quite honest, he’s never thought to put the words ‘conversation’ and ‘nice’ in the same sentence, but maybe it’s because he’s never really had it with you?

Either way, it turns out he might be pretty okay at it.

At least, that’s what he can only assume when he pulls a few chuckles from you at the recounting of some of the shit he’s been through. It might be the late night making his mind less tense and filtered, but there’s an undeniable ease settling over him despite the fact you’re - in a more sophisticated way than he’s phrasing it - repeatedly jamming a needle through his skin.

“You’re telling me you saw a chupacabra? Like those bloodsucking dogs? That eat sheep and stuff?”

Tying off the last stitch on his arm, he listens to you suppress another giggle at the thought, and his eyes fire alight despite how many times he’s already told this story. When he’d recounted it before, it was almost like a routine - an easy breaking of ice - but now, he’s really going for it, playing up the details just so he can wring out every possible sound he can from you. It feels so different telling it to you, he doesn’t know why. He just knows it does.

“Swear to God. It was right in front’a me, too, runnin’ through the trees with a chicken in its mouth. Looked me dead in the eye an’ I thought I was gon’ have to throw all the shit I caught at it jus’ t’get outta there alive.”

Something about the image he conjures up must tickle you in some type of way, because you take the flashlight into your hand to laugh, covering your mouth with your palm as if you wouldn’t one of the prettiest damn people he’s ever seen with your amusement broken smile and crinkled eyes, and he doesn’t think he’s ever heard anything sound so good.

“What, ya don’t believe me?“

He watches you shake your head, a lopsided grin stamped across your cheeks, and he realizes he’s got just the tiniest bit of one on his, too.

“Do you really care if I believe you? Half of life’s already made up anyways, Daryl.”

Your voice sounds too good saying his name, and he meets your eyes when they slide over to his before you speak again, the returning burn of starlight magnetic in the way he can’t seem to look away from you.

“Plus, chupacabras are kinda cool, don’t you think?”

You step back then, placing the needle next to your forceps, and he scoffs in amusement, turning his head to look at the careful stitches lining his gash before looking back at you and speaking.

“You’re insane.”

Humming, a yawn breaks through the expression on your face, and he watches as you stretch out your tired limbs, your untied sweatpants hanging low enough that he thinks he might be going crazy with the way he swears that fabric cutting across your waist might be your underwear, and-

Shit, he was doing so good not thinking about you like that - he was doing so good not thinking about you in a way he’s got no damn right to - but now, when he sees the tiniest expanse of your belly, he’s neck deep in trouble because he swears never seen anything looking so inviting for his palms to slide over and for his lips to kiss.

“I’m a dog person.”

He hears you chuckle - vaguely, mind instead pinpointed on conjuring up what your skin might feel like under his - but he’s too focused on dispelling any of those images that he doesn’t realize his lack of reaction makes your smile fade just the slightest from your face. If he’d seen your expression, his heart might actually hurt to do anything other than make a fool of himself to make that expression return, but he’s unaware, shutting his eyes and turning his face away as if all his thoughts of you would disappear if he just couldn’t see you.

Daryl’s lust is too damn loud in his head, and he’s scared if he looked at you, you might actually hear it.

Clearing your throat, you take the flashlight back between your lips and he feels two fingers underneath his chin, your thumb grazing his patch of stubble, and he has to swallow down his spit when your other hand runs through just the slightest bit of his bangs to get to the - what did you call them again? - laceration running down from his hairline down his temple.

Back to business, then?

God, this is fucking torture to him.

He should have basked in the peace of innocent conversation with you when he had the chance because now, as you’ve gotten even closer to him since that shitty flashlight doesn’t really have the power to shine further than a few feet in front of it, he’s breathing in your scent and it’s overwhelming him in a good way.

Too good.

It should hurt, the dig of the needle and the pull of the thread, but you’re swift with it - practiced, unlike his necessity-driven hands - and it doesn’t. At least, not as much as he’s grown to expect. And, yeah, sure, maybe the fact that he's just the smallest, tiniest, littlest bit preoccupied with trying to stop the rise of a certain body part at the way your nails scratch against his hairline, and the fact he can't help but wonder if this is what it would feel like to have your hands grab at him as he’s doing that thing you’d tell him not to worry about is contributing to that lack of attachment to his own mortal body, but that’s no one’s damn business but his own.

Jesus Christ, when was the last time he’s ever felt like this? High school? He’s a damn adult - got the back pain to prove it - so why the fuck is the situation in his pants the same growing tent as when he used to steal Merle’s Playboys just to stare at them?

Nah, you’re prettier than the girls in those magazines.

But he definitely wouldn’t mind seeing you like them, though. Not if you had that sweater you’re wearing pulled up off of you, and definitely not if those low hanging sweatpants would join them - and any other layers that might separate you from him.

Daryl dares a glance at you - a damn risky play because he thinks just looking at you could make him overheat and sizzle out - and it’s just his luck that you slide your eyes back over to his then too, a quick connection before you focus back onto the last few stitches on his gash. One corner of your lips pull up then, and he clutches his shirt so fucking tight that he can feel his dull fingernails dig through the fabric and into his palm.

Get a grip, man.

But he can’t, because even that split second of a look coupled with the feeling of his button-up makes him think of what you would look in it, taking your spot smack dab on the centerfold with his shirt open across your chest, that little expression of content on your face drawing him in and make him stare. You’re so pretty to him that he wouldn’t know where to look, and it just makes sense that the only competition against your lowering expanses of skin would be you - starlight in your eyes and honey in your smile.

And he wonders, for a second, that if he kissed you, would he taste that saccharine that lines your features? Or would it turn into the burn that swims down the back of his throat? Like the Old No. 7 he used to down on days where there was nothing better to do than drink and smoke and drink and smoke again? He’d get drunk off of you if you let him - intoxicate himself on your lips, your neck, your chest, your thighs and the spot between them - and breathe you in until you settle in his lungs like his crumpled up Malboros.

You’d be sweet like that everywhere, he reckons, and he’d bite like Eve to the forbidden fruit.

“Would you like that?”

You sound so real saying those words - he adds a breath to it in his imagination, though, a flirtation he’s never heard himself but just knows would sound perfect from you - and before he can even think why, the floodgates of his mouth open.

“Fuck, y- yeah, I would.”

Only when he feels you pull away does he realize you sounded so real because you actually were saying that to him just a second ago, and an immediate panic sets into him. The swell underneath his baggy jeans feels a little too noticeable for Daryl to do anything along the lines of moving his shirt from covering it, and he swallows the lump in his throat as he watches you pull the flashlight from your mouth and pick up the tray to walk away. Shit, what the fuck did he just agree to?

“Alright. Just give me a second and I’ll grab the ointment. I’m also gonna turn the lantern back on ‘cause this is honestly kinda a piece of garbage at lighting up bigger areas.”

There’s the telltale click of your flashlight comes before before the room devolves into darkness, combated in a moment with another click of the lantern turning on, and you leave it on your desk as you open one of those cupboards lining the wall and pull out two short jars, jutting out your arms to show both of them to him.

“Which one do you want?”

They’re barely different under the yellowed light - he can barely make out that one jar is… purple? And the other is pink, maybe? - and at this point, he really couldn’t care less. So he just vaguely nods towards the one in your right, and clears his throat, shifting against once and twice then three times, hoping you don’t notice the fact he never moves his hands.

“Uh, that one.”

You nod then, turning back towards the cupboard for a second before facing him again, and it takes just as long for you to be in front of him, the small purple tin now open and resting next to him on the bed. ‘Purple, since it smells like lavender.’, you offer, and he barely - just barely - reacts, lust still looming over him, ever-present like a shadow

“I’m going to touch you now. Is that okay?”

Fuck, you can’t just say that to him.

But still, Daryl nods, bracing for your soft fingers and feeling his own body thrum back alive the second your hands meet the broken skin of his arm. He’s starting to revel in the amount of security in your care, warmth from the rubbing of ointment and the light waft of lavender making his head a little hazy. It’s like a slice of safety in here, under your watchful eye, and sure, he might be flexing his arms to make himself just the slightest bit more muscular, but you don’t need to know that.

“Would it be okay if you move your shirt? I need to-“

As you speak - an innocent question, he knows damn well it is - your hand brushes against the road rash on his abdomen, and an immediate panic shoots through him at the thought of actually moving it, his elbows closing against his sides as he squirms his torso away from you.

“N- no!”

He can feel the way his whispered yell shocks you, and he watches as your hands retract almost immediately, as if the touch of his skin has burnt you. Panicked eyes look up at him and he scrambles for an apology, shaking his head and getting up rather abruptly, praying to a God long dead in his thoughts that you won’t think it’s weird that he’s not putting on his shirt.

“Shit, sorry, I jus’- I-”

Clearing his throat, he turns away from you, adrenaline keeping him from feeling the otherwise painful knock of his knee against the bedfeame’s wood, and he forgets, for a moment the ugly scars marring his skin, instead taking the time to wipe away his clammy hands before throwing a glance over his shoulder to look at you.

You’ve moved away from him and back towards your desk, screwing the lid back on the jar of ointment no longer occupying the spot next to where he sat, and he almost groans in happiness, the opportunity to adjust himself in his loose fitting jeans finally presenting itself. It’s rough, the way he grinds his palm down onto his crotch to calm himself down, but it’s also finally relief, and he bites his lip to keep himself from making any noise. Only when he’s 100 percent - 150, maybe - sure you he’s controlled the situation, does he finally speak and turn back around.

“I- I should, uh, probably get going.”

He stutters more than he’d intended, but when he sees you nod, he finds solace in the fact your gaze doesn’t seem to waiver from the cupboard you’re giving your undivided attention to.

But as he starts lifting his shirt over his head - as he forgets that he had almost completely undone it and has to spend a few seconds rebuttoning the whole damn thing - you turn to face him and see it then. Under the dim light, the tent in his pants catches a shadow and its presence is undeniable.

A lump forms in your throat as you watch him work at those flimsy pieces of plastic, thick fingers much more graceful than you would have expected from what you know from the town gossip of him being nothing but a fighter - nothing but a man who had probably chased as many drinks and cigarettes as he had girls before the world had gone to shit - and you tighten your grip on the ointment in one hand and the painkillers in your other, extending them both out to him in offering before tearing your gaze away from his everything.

His arms are so toned and his shoulders are so broad, littered with marks that tell of too many hours out there in the Virginian sun, and his chest is so nice. His torso is so firm and so is his abdomen and, from what you’ve seen trailing down into his jeans-

No, there’s no point in thinking about him like this - you’re pretty sure he barely even knows your name, anyways.

“Just, uh, use this like, twice a day and take these if it hurts, and try not to sleep on your abrasions. Oh, and, uh, come find me if your stitches pop or something.”

Offering him a small smile, you try not to entertain the flare of feeling erupting at the base of your spine when he reaches out, those dexterous fingers you were admiring just seconds ago brushing up against yours to take the bottle of pills and the flower-scented ointment you’d almost killed yourself trying to get those stupid lavenders for.

“Right. ‘Night.”

He cringes at the way his words rhyme - ‘right, ‘night?’ that sounds like such a fucking lame thing to say - and he focuses on not tripping over his own two feet as he scrambles from your office, leaving you with your racing heart and him with his. Once he’s safely outside the infirmary and away from your infuriatingly pretty eyes, he examines the careful threadwork one more time, and Daryl wonders how long it’ll take to convince Carol to take a knife to his stitches.

He needs them to pop or something.

Anything, as long as he can use it as an excuse to see you again.

God, he’s in trouble with these thoughts, he just knows he is.

But, then again, Daryl’s starting to think there’s some serenity in feeling so totally fucked. At least, there is when it comes to you.

»»———— ⊱

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uncharted territory | kth

⤑  series: kinda hot

⤑ pairing: campus flirt!taehyung x sweet girl!reader

⤑ genre: lmao i don’t even know... angst? smut?

⤑ rating: explicit

⤑ word count: 7.5K // unedited.

⤑ warnings: use of alcohol and weed, cursing, dirty talk, slight hair pulling, over-the-shirt nipple play, dry humping, ruined orgasms.

⤑ A/N: hihihi! just here to remind you how much i appreciate all of you guys reading this story nd getting as invested as you are!! don’t hesitate to let me know what’s on your mind - no matter what it is ., feedback is my favorite!!

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:07

Hoseok is leaning handsomely against the side of his car when you're stepping out. Arms crossed over his chest as his teeth nibble on his lower lip, eyes seeming to sparkle when he's looking at you. The shine only getting brighter when the corners of his mouth lift into a smile. Body lifting from the side of the car to pull the passenger's door open, gesturing to it with his hand.

“Ooh, check out the gentleman,” You're teasing with a laugh, ducking into your seat as he rolls his eyes. Jogging around the front of the car until he's sinking into the spot beside you, taking another moment to let his eyes travel over your body.

Nodding slightly to himself before he's grinning, “You look hot,” His warm hand landing on your thigh to give it a little squeeze before he's pulling from his parking spot and onto the road.

Compliments from Hoseok came sparingly, wasn't really one to gush over your appearance with mere words. He was more of a show-er than a talker in that sense. So when he was paying you a compliment, it was never anything all that deep. Never once compared the brightness of your eyes to the sunlight or whatever Shakespearean shit he could muster up. He was just going with what he thought and you appreciated that.

It kept things from getting confusing between the two of you. If he was constantly dotting on you and telling you how amazing he thought you were (and you were amazing, no doubt about that), but if he was telling you.. it would definitely put a damper on your whole arrangement. You were a simple girl to be completely honest. Words got to you, you'd be head over heels in love if he was calling you beautiful every chance he got.

Hot was good. Hot was fine. Hot was safe. Because catching feelings for Hoseok? You'd be better off standing in the middle of the road waiting to be run over. And then getting the driver to put it in reverse. Hoseok was brutal when it came to girls and relationships, didn't waste time on feelings or the overly emotional.

A bit of an asshole, but that was why you liked him. He knew how to keep things fun and exciting, loved being surrounded by people. But he wouldn't hesitate to tell someone to fuck off if the circumstances called for it. He was cool. To put it simply. A very cool guy taking you out on a date. Anyone would be giddy about that, it was Jung Hoseok for crying out loud!

“What you got a taste for?” His eyes don't move from the road in front of him. One hand steering the wheel while the other keeps its hold on your thigh. Skin easily warming under his touch, you force yourself to focus on what he's saying.

Having to keep yourself from suggesting, (for the first time in person but the eighth(?) to him) skipping dinner and going back to your place to make proper use of your time. You bite that down. He wanted to take you out to eat, so you planned to humor him. Eat with him so he can eat you out. Simple.

“Anything, really. You like pasta. Should we just go to that Italian place?” With a slight nod, he's directing the car toward the restaurant. The smile on his face lets you know that he had been secretly hoping to get to eat there tonight. It was his favorite place to go, knew the menu like the back of his hand.

So he's pleased that you're suggesting it.

The car ride is filled with soft music and playful banter about whatever comes to mind. He's challenging you, saying things that he knows will get under your skin just to hear you argue why he's wrong. Laughing as you outline all the reasons why mints and chocolate should be far away from each other.

He keeps a gentle hand on the small of your back as he leads you into the restaurant. Still egging you on with why he thinks you're wrong, laughing at the way your face twists up at him. Pausing only briefly to get your table, but the debate is in full swing the moment the two of you are settled across from each other.

There's a subtle type of competitiveness in his tone, paired with the playful smile on his face. Not even a full hour here with him and you were starting to see what Jimin was talking about. Being out with Hoseok, talking beyond where you should do it next, was something you never considered. 

It's nice.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 19:59

Conversation between the two of you doesn't die down even after your food is being set down in front of you. You're only now noticing that you never really talked to Hoseok before. You were friends, of course, that's what the 'F' in FWB stood for, but you were more like group friends.

Never really hung out alone until some months ago when you were starting this whole thing up. And fucking didn't really account for all that much talking. You knew nothing about him aside from the fact he was Taehyung's asshole womanizer roommate. No idea how witty, how animated, how attractive he could be.

It made you want him even more.

He's in the middle of explaining the King Henry VIII drama he had seen the other night, which is also surprising. He almost seemed 'too cool' to be this interested in a period piece starring Natalie Portman. But he's speaking so excitedly, that you can't help but hang on to every word from his lips. All until your phone is flashing on the table beside you, Taehyung's smiling face lighting up the screen.

The buzz steals both of your attention from the conversation, your brow furrowing slightly. A part of you knows that he's only calling for nonsense, probably in the midst of a fight with his girlfriend and he's calling for you to tell him he's right. It's hardly ever an emergency when he's calling you, so there should be no problem with letting his call go to voicemail.

Especially this close to the end of your date, you'd be heading back home with Hoseok in no time. Plus he could just text you if it was something important. There was no reason to answer, and yet, you can't keep your hand from reaching for the device. Shooting an apologetic smile over at Hoseok.

“He knows I'm with you... he wouldn't call if-,” The nod of Hoseok's head cuts you off, waving you away with a smile to take your call. And you're excusing yourself quickly, pressing the phone to your ear once you're far enough away from the table.

He better have his dick caught in a mousetrap or something to justify interrupting your dinner. “Tae. What's going on?” You listen, for any telling sounds of things being out of the ordinary. All you hear is the hum of the TV and his heavy breathing hitting the line.

“Yn, you've gotta get over here.” There's an urgency in his voice that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing. “Why? What's going on?” It's probably something stupid, it usually is when it comes to Taehyung. But curiosity has already set in and you find yourself thinking of how to tell Hoseok you have to go. 

“I can't just tell you... you have to come,”

Groaning into the phone, your hand lifts to pinch the base of your nose. A deep sigh leaving your lips. “Tae. I'm out right now. If this isn't urgent-”

He's quick to cut your words, “It really can't wait.” He almost sounds serious, which has the slight annoyance you feel melting away. “Okay, okay. I'll be there in a minute,” Quick to hang up the phone and head back over to the table.

Hoseok has his head bowed, full attention on the plate of lasagna as he shovels forkfuls into his mouth. Reaching for his glass as you slip back into your seat, gulping down his water. And you're two seconds from telling him that you have to go when he's reaching for his napkin, wiping the corner of his lips.

“Taehyung needs you to rush over?” How he was able to just guess that is beyond you, but you're nodding your head a sheepish smile taking over your features. “He says it's urgent,” You genuinely feel bad. Even though things between Hoseok weren't any deeper than hooking up, you still had agreed to come out with him. To stay out with him.

To leave in the middle of it (not to mention before you could wrap everything up and go back home) felt shitty. You were having a good time getting to know him, but if you didn't go see what was going on with Taehyung, you knew it would bother you for the rest of the night.

Despite everything, Hoseok seems to understand. Insisting you finish the rest of your risotto before he's paying the bill. He even keeps up with the bubbly conversation from earlier, enjoying the sound of your laughter all the way to the car. Guiding you in with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

He lets you choose the music and hums along with the songs you play. It's not long before he's pulling up in front of his house, car staying on as he steps on the brake. You wait for him to put the car in park and when he doesn't, you're shooting a confused look in his direction.

“You're not coming in?”

He's quick to shake his head, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. “I'm gonna go see what's up with those girls in building E.” Oh. Right. You almost forgot for a second who you were dealing with. Jung Hoseok, notorious fuck boy. If he wasn't sleeping with you, then he'd just find someone else to do it with.

Feeling bad for cutting your date short was useless. “See you later, then.” He meets your words with a nod, waiting patiently for you to get out of his car. Spares a moment to lift his hand in a wave before he's speeding down the road.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 20:21

Taehyung is sat on the couch when you enter the house. Hunched over a bowl with chopsticks in hand. Torso bare and hair falling in a ruffled mess around his face. He doesn't budge at the sound of the door, too focused on pushing long strings of spicy noodles into his mouth.

He could've at least put together a fake emergency if he was going to call you over like this. Pretended his arm was broken or something, instead of coolly sitting on the couch trying to gulp down his beer around the mouthful of Ramen.

“Hey! What's so urgent? Why are you half-naked?” Your loud voice startles him, droplets of beer falling from his lips and rolling down his chest. He swallows, reaching forward to grab up a napkin, using it to wipe at his well worked on pecs. 

Your eyes follow the movement of his hand, long fingers brushing the droplets from his tanned skin. It must be the anticipation of getting fucked tonight because you're finding it hard to tear your gaze from the ripples of his stomach. “I'm in from the gym,” He explains the no shirt, the tightness in his arms that have fallen victim to your greedy stare. Flexing obviously as he reaches for his drink again, taking a few sips before he's picking up his bowl. His chest tenses with the movement.

Has he always been this... wow? Quite literally staring in the middle of the room, greedily enjoying the sight of your best friend without his shirt on. Yet, it's not the first time you've seen him sans shirt. Countless sleepovers and pool parties, but his bare stomach seemed different now.

Seriously. Did he always have abs like that?

You're forcing yourself to look away, face grimacing at the loud burp he lets out. Enough to snap you from your thoughts, wherever they were going was uncharted territory. And you had no interest in exploring that, especially when you were supposed to be annoyed with him!

“What's the problem? Why'd you make me rush over?” Wearily, you step closer to him. Eyes scanning over his body in a less pervy way, trying to detect any sign of injury. Maybe even a paper cut a little too deep. “Are you okay?” Your face inches from his, still searching.

He's laughing, hand lifting to rest on your forehead, pushing your head back slightly. “I'm fine. Want some?” Taehyung lifts the bowl between the two of you. And your gaze drops to the spicy scent. And normally you'd be letting out an excited whoop, accepting his generous offer and plopping down beside him.

But right now, all you are is annoyed. Annoyed and frustrated. If it wasn't for him, no doubt you'd be off somewhere with Hoseok, minutes from having your eyes rolled back, nails scraping against his skin. Instead, you're here, no emergency in sight. You shaved for this! Matched your lingerie for this! What a waste.

“Are you fucking kidding me!? I was out with Hoseok, Taehyung.” As if he didn't know. And he had the audacity, to sit there, slurping his noodles as if he wasn't at fault for this annoying ache in the pit of your stomach. Something that would've been long taken care of if it wasn't for him.

His shoulders lift in an uninterested shrug, jaw falling slack as he shovels another mouthful into his mouth. “Well... now you're not. It's extra spicy. Your favorite,” He's offering more food up to you and all you do is roll your eyes, letting out a frustrated huff.

“You're fucking ridiculous,” You scoff, hands rummaging through the contents of your purse until your fingers are catching onto your phone. “I'm calling Hoseok,” You announce for no real reason, especially because he acts as if he hasn't heard your words. Attention back on the hot bowl in his lap.

He's being weird and you don't know what it is. Noticed it in doses these past few days and assumed it would just blow over... but he just seemed to be acting more and more out of character the more time passed. It confused you. And you hated being confused.

Part of you was convinced that it had something to do with him now knowing that you're sleeping with his roommate. The side comments, inadvertently trying to cock block, and now this being proof enough. But there was another part of you... a much smaller, poorly trained part, that was convinced these were the actions of a jealous man.

What would he have to be jealous of, right? It wasn't like he wanted to be the one sleeping with Hoseok. Well, debatable... but seriously, the way he's been acting lately has led you to believe that there was something else going on that he wasn't telling you. Tae's known the guys you've fucked around with before and never has he acted so... stiff?

Something changed. Something was different. And you can't help but wonder if the picture incident had something to do with it. Highly unlikely, as Joon said, he has probably already forgotten about it. But, nothing else made sense.

Hoseok doesn't answer. Not like you actually expected him to. He went to 'see what's up with the girls in Building E'. No doubt busy with that, why would he answer his phone? “Come on, Yn.” Taehyung is beside you now, you're not sure when he stood up, but you can smell the sweetness of his body spray. Even after the time, he spent in the gym.

“Listen, I'm sorry I interrupted you.” His hand is reaching to lower your phone, halting your request for an Uber. “...but you're here now. Just stay. Relax.” Flashing that breathtaking smile of his and it's becoming apparent how he gets away with so much. This boy knew how to use his looks to his advantage, there was no denying that.

But, you're not easily fooled. “You can't just interrupt my dates because you're lonely,” Some of the bite is gone from your tone. Not entirely sure how upset with him you really were. Of course, calling you out when he knew you were with someone else was shitty... but it was Taehyung!

A terrible reason, but the best one you could come up with. There was no way staying mad at him was an option, when he has done the reverse many times with you involved. He's smirking at you, picking up on the anger melting away from your features. “So it was a date. You told me it was just dinner,” He teases.

Not entirely pissed at him anymore, but that didn't mean you'd just let his stupidity slide. This was the second time he's interfered with your much needed Vitamin D and it was about time he heard something about it. “Just dinner. A date. A fucking square dance. Taehyung, you can't just cut in because you want.” He's looking at you funny, this dazed expression that you've never seen directed to you before. From him.

It makes your heart stutter, so you ignore it. “What if I did the same with you? If you were out with Ailee and I called you up with some stupid excuse?” He doesn't even hesitate, dark eyes glued to yours. A stare so intense, you feel the heat rising to your cheeks. “I'd come running,” The deepness of his voice and the seriousness of his tone has your breath hitching.

There was no way this was happening. You were used to flirty Taehyung, got pretty good at compartmentalizing your feelings when it came to the Taehyung that you dealt with on a day-to-day basis. But this... this was different. Uncharted territory, indeed. The way he was looking at you? Talking to you? Nothing like you've ever handled before when it came to him.

No idea how you were supposed to react, so you decide to just leave to keep from making a fool of yourself in front of him. “I'm leaving. Goodnight, Taehyung. Call your girlfriend.” A halfhearted request, you're really just reminding yourself that he has one. And while 'The Other Woman' was a great song, that wasn't you.

“She broke up with me like an hour ago,” Again? You want to say, feigning disbelief. Their routine breakups were far from surprising and they always ended up in the same way: them back together and holed up in Taehyung's room for days on end. Only to end in a pointless fight that would repeat the cycle.

They were always broken up, but that didn't mean they were done with each other. It never meant that. “Please, stay.” He's pouting obnoxiously, so you're confused why you find it so cute. Fingers laced with yours as he lightly shakes your arm. “I miss hanging out with you,” Puppy dog eyes aimed right at your heart.

He's not wrong. It's been a little while since the two of you just hung out. Lounged around in sweats, ate, and watched bad TV. And it was very unlikely that Hoseok would be returning your call. Jimin is surely busy with Jungkook or something. You'd just be going home to sit around and do exactly what you could do here.

“Fine.” Eyes rolling to exaggerate your annoyance. “Go make another packet while I change,” Soft hair bounces as he nods his head, turning to pick up his half-empty bowl from the coffee table, carrying it into the kitchen.

You're halfway up the stairs before he's calling out to you, smiling when he sees your head poke around the corner. “I'm really sorry I ruined your date. That was not cool,” There's sincerity in his tone and in his eyes, every last bit of annoyance or frustration you felt dissipating at the sight.

“It's fine,” The prettiest smile he's ever seen pushes onto your lips, nearly stealing his breath away. “I'll just have to text Hoseok and explain your issue with separation,” Giggling at your own lighthearted joke and he's matching the sound. 

Silently praying you hurry upstairs so he can get his heart in check. So he could think. Something he's been skipping out on that since the moment he picked up his phone and decided to call you.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 21:43

You're wearing basketball shorts. His basketball shorts. Paired with a sports bra that you must've left here for one reason or another. It takes everything in him not to zero in on the jiggle of your ass as you pass him. The pebble of your nipples pushing against the fabric. You always complained about how cold his apartment was.

He tries not to stare as you stretch to pull a bowl from the cupboard, laughing out loud when you realize that he's already taken one down for you. Thanking him as you move to stand close. Your cheeks are red and irritated from the quick way you removed your makeup with the dried-out wipes you left in his bathroom. Hair let out of the tight ponytail, cascading down your back in pretty waves.

It's not until you're pinning him with a furrowed brow and an upturn of your upper lip, does he realize he's literally gawking at you. With this unmistakable love-struck look in eyes. “Why are looking at me like that?” Spoken while plucking a piece of meat from the pan and pushing it into your mouth.

Caught and he doesn't even think of trying to backtrack. With a shrug of his shoulders, he's turning his attention back to the food in front of him. “I don't know. You just look beautiful or whatever,” He can hardly look at you as the words leave his lips, afraid you'll catch the blush on his cheeks.

“Or whatever?” You joke with a laugh, ignoring the flip of your stomach at the compliment. Instead, you move to the fridge, retrieving a couple of eggs while chastising him on forgetting the best part. Not sure what was up with him, but you refuse to let yourself get carried away.

You've spent so long accepting that he has and only will see you as a friend. Best friend, even. And just because he was throwing a few compliments your way didn't mean that everything all of a sudden changed. Nothing has changed. The two of you were still in the same spot you had been two years ago.

 Taehyung serves you with a smile ten minutes later, fingers lingering on yours for a moment longer than normal. Not long enough to be weird, but definitely long enough to get the wheels turning in your brain. And then he's plopping down across from you like nothing, head ducked as he takes the first steamy bites of his food.

It takes everything in him not to profess his unclear feelings. Trying to limit how often he looks at you, censoring his thoughts as they teeter between mushy and cringe. It's hard with the way you're joking between bites the way you always do, he can't help but notice how pretty you are.

He felt lucky to have you like this. Even if it wasn't truly having you. Just the fact that you were comfortable enough around him to be like this. Even if it had been years, it felt different now somehow.

Everything felt different since he's started to notice little things about you that he failed to see all along. Your cute habit of flicking and tossing your hair as you spoke, more often with how animated you got. How your eyes lit up when you were excited. That tiny dimple at the corner of your mouth, which only made an appearance when you were laughing really hard.

On top of it all, he was noticing how obvious you were. Not exactly sure when it clicked in his mind and it could very well be his ego talking, but he was starting to feel like he wasn't the only one keeping a mental scrapbook. The more attention he paid to you and your little mannerisms, the more he picked up on the fact that you were doing the same.

Whenever he'd bite his lip, rest his cheek on his palm, angle his head in a certain way – your eyes would follow. And how could he forget the lust-filled look on your face as your eyes devoured him, it hadn't even been a full ten minutes since you got there and you were so obvious.

A wonder he didn't notice it before, but now that he thinks back... all of the signs were there. Everything that he missed has been screaming at him for the past-however-many years. And as much as he wanted to do something about it, he knew he had to be careful.

Extremely careful.

JANUARY 30TH, 2021 | 23:52

Right now, you had your legs in his lap – ankle inches from his junk, but that's the least of your concerns. You're more focused on tucking every last crumb of weed into the paper, eyes flickering between your fingers and the TV screen. 

“How is she this oblivious?” You're commenting with a wrinkle of your brow and Taehyung has to act like he's been following the plotline all along.

From what he was able to pick up with your brief summary of the plot and the way you talked over every scene with backstory, the main character was set the be married to a man with much more experience than her. In life. In the bedroom. The scene playing in front of you right now she was just finding out that he had been lying about not being able to have children.

You had suggested starting from episode one, but he denied the offer. There was something about watching you explain a show while getting frustrated about the scenes that played out before you that he found endearing. Not a new feeling, but holding a new meaning now.

He can hardly hear what's being said because you're in the middle of a rant on how there was no reason for her to be so clueless and sent into a marriage. And how her mother should've gone into the nitty-gritty before shipping her off. And how her husband was just a compliment douche bag for taking advantage of her ignorance.

Taehyung is positive he looks like you just agreed to go riding off in the sunset. Leaned back against the couch and watching you with this dazed-dopey expression that you sum up to him just being high. You were working on rolling the second joint you'd share.

His eyes follow as you lean forward, hovering over his lap as you reach for the lighter on his side. Not even thinking to ask him to pass it over, not that he's complaining about the closeness. Elbows holding your body up as you fiddle with the spark, bringing it toward you when it stays.

You catch his stare as you exhale, handing the joint off to him before moving back to your end of the couch, legs falling back in his lap. He doesn't pull his gaze from you, letting the weed burn out between his fingers. “What?” You're asking with a soft laugh. He's hissing out a breath, bringing the smoke to his lips and inhaling.

“You're fucking gorgeous, it's annoying.” He says with a shake of his head, a thick cloud of smoke leaving his lips. “You're always talking shit,” Speaking through a burst of laughter, but he doesn't entertain the thought any further. Extending his hand to pass it over, eyes flickering up to the screen.

There had been something that he had paid attention to when you first turned this show on. The conversation that was being had on the screen about best friends and getting married and falling in love. And how that's how you should do it. Marry your best friend and it would work out.

No matter how many porn-like sex scenes appeared after that, he was still stuck on that one conversation. And the thought that if you looked so pretty next to him right now, there was no telling how much prettier you'd look done up and dressed in white. He has to laugh at himself, though.

Blaming his raging thoughts on the half-empty bottle of liquor on the table and the green you're handing back over to him. Which is why he doesn't bother to stop the question that slips out next. “Do you think that's really the key?”

Half forgot that even though you never left his mind, you couldn't read it. So you have no idea what he's talking about. “Key to what?”

“Being happy in a relationship?”

He hardly ever really talked about his feelings being with Ailee. You just knew what he told you and that was very limited. She annoyed him, but she was sometimes funny and knew what she was doing. That was pretty much it.

So you're a little shocked that he all of a sudden was bringing this up as if you knew their relationship from a hole in the wall. “Are you not happy with Ailee?” Someone who fought with their significant other as much as Taehyung did, couldn't really be happy. But you could be wrong.

“I'm sure I could be happier,” He's looking at you with those eyes again, flicking the ash off with his finger before bringing the joint back to his lips. “Do you think falling n love with your best friend is the key to all that?” He pauses, the blurts the last part out like he's lost control of his tongue. “Like you and me,”

You're letting out a harsh cough that has nothing to do with the smoke cruising through your lungs. Eyes tearing up while your back shakes. “Me and you?” You manage, letting out a gasped breath. “Like me falling in love with you and you falling in love with me?” Finger used to point between the two of you, just to be sure.

Taehyung nods his head, unphased by your dramatic reaction. “Yes, that's exactly how that would work. A money-less transaction,” You're letting out a laugh and a shake of your head, pushing the thought from your head. He was only joking, talking shit for whatever reason.

“Yeah, no. That would never work out,”

His words chase yours, “Why not?” You don't miss the small pout of his lips, as if he's actually asking. Wondering why you thought the two of you together wouldn't work out.

“I know too much. You know too much,” Going with the first reason that pops in your head, one that you've used countless times with convincing yourself. “There's gotta be some mystery,”

Taehyung is rolling his eyes, “Oh, come on. We're not the Scooby-doo kids, Yn. Mystery is overrated.” He's really pushing for this and you're not sure why. Most likely entertaining the thoughts that pop into his foggy mind, so you don't allow yourself to think too hard on his words.

Or what they could mean. “It's perfect,” He continues. “You meet someone, become best friends, decide to fall in love and now you're married to your best friend. That's the dream,” He says with a grin. And you're not sure if he's actually talking about you or if he's just talking.

“That's lazy,” Either way, you attempt to get the race of your heart to slow down. No matter how much closer he was to you now, backs of your thighs pressed against his. You're nearly seated in his lap and you just now noticed the mindless way his fingers drag over your knee. “You can't pick off from your existing friends. You meet someone, fall for them and then you become best friends,”

His laugh rings through your ears, then your entire body. Just the sound has you feeling warm all over, something that you were sure you had gotten under control a long time ago. “You just said the same thing as me, except you changed the last two steps,”

“It makes a huge difference,” It did. One was the two of you and the other could be any two strangers on the street. For the sake of you, your version was the one you'd go with. Anything else and it would be hard to talk yourself out of it.

But Taehyung has been a lot more attention, putting the pieces together as they appear. And one thing he was always good at spotting (except when it came to you for some reason) was when someone was into him. And judging from the subtle changes in your demeanor throughout this entire conversation, you were so into him.

With caution on his mind, he's shifting focus. Hand lowering to discard the dead bit in the ashtray. Leveling you with a squinted eyes and a purse of his lips. “What's the real reason you didn't want me to know about Hoseok?” Sort of had an idea of what this might be, but he wanted to hear it from you.

“What do you mean? I already told you,” You're reaching for the bottle on the table, taking a swig to keep your hands busy. And to keep you from having to look at him, no doubt the unfiltered thoughts in your mind would be slipping out with one glance. 

He doesn't pull his gaze from you, though. “No, you said you didn't want things to get awkward. I think that was a lie,” His face is much closer to yours now, you can clearly see the faint beauty marks scattered against his skin.

Just a simple stretch of his leg and you're pushed further on to his lap. Back resting against his arm now that he has his hand is pressed against the armrest. He's close, but not suffocating, has left enough space for you to get up and move if you wanted to. But that's the farthest thing from your mind right now.

“Wanna know what I think it is?” Voice so low he might as well be mumbling. His eyes flicker down to your lips, noting how soft they look. And he finds himself wondering just how they'd feel pressed against his. “What?” You sound breathless like you had been thinking about the same exact thing.

He's smoothly moving his arm from you, guiding the way your back falls against the couch. “I think you're into me, like how I'm into you... and you didn't want me to know because of that,” The risk of fucking up your friendship takes the backseat because he knows he's right. Took his time and put the signs together.

“Yeah, right.” You laugh it off, but he's learned how obvious you are.

A grin spreads over his features, hand dropping to your hip. “You're making the face you do when you've been caught,” The heat of his palm spreading from your side to your entire body. And you've come to terms with the fact that you've lost control of your heart. Wrapped up in the moment where Taehyung, Kim Taehyung, your best friend and former crush revealed he was into you.

His head bows, nose nudging against yours. It's embarrassing the way your lips instantly pucker, eyes falling shut as you wait for the soft press. Eyes fluttering open after a moment of waiting and receiving nothing, catching the devious smirk on his lips. 

“You're into me, aren't you?” While he was sure, positive after seeing how ready you were to have him kiss you, he needed to hear it. Needed to be sure that he wasn't missing something, he's been doing a lot of that lately.

The nod of your head is answer enough, followed by your warm hand reaching to rest on the back of his neck. Not sure who moved first, if you were pulling him down or he was lowering himself and you really didn't care. 

A tiny moan escapes from your lips as he shifts above you, the sound being sent straight to his crotch. His mouth is pulling from yours, brows raised and eyes wide as he stares down at you – surprised by the fact that you could actually sound like that. Before he's given a chance to comment on it, you're pulling him back down.

Kissing you is everything he's imagined it to be and more. The soft push of your tongue paired with the deliberate scrap of teeth on his lip. Your hummed moans fill the room and stir him on, his grip falling from your hip to your thigh. Easily pulling your legs apart to slot himself between them.

Fingers tangled in his hair and heavy breath hitting his lips each time you pull away, only to dive right back in. Mouths moving over each other messily, Taehyung can barely ask the groans that die on your lips. Free hand pressed against his chest, you can feel the hammer of his heart.

Thighs squeezed to his hips, bodies so close the thinnest of papers wouldn't fit. So it's no wonder you feel it. The twitch of his cock hardening against you, so enticing you can't help the way your hips lift to meet his just as he's dropping down to press into you. A hissed moan falling from your lips at the contact.

“Fuck,” He's groaning, a switch seemingly turning on inside of him. Mouth breaking for yours and hand moving up the toward your chest. His thumb brushes over your hardened nipple through the fabric of your bra as he rolls his hips into yours.

Just the heat from pressing against you like this was enough to rile him up, mind reeling with thoughts of what it would be like to really fuck you. And the sounds you'd make. You sounded so pretty with the simple rolls of his hips, what if he was actually buried deep inside of you.

His head drops, mouth latching onto the crook of your neck to suckle at the skin there. Your senses are fogged with nothing but him. The smell of him, the feel, the taste. Still lingering on your lips and hitting your taste buds as you lick them. There's a definite heat growing between your legs with each drag of his covered cock, angled perfectly that he's just barely tapping your clit.

You want more. So much more and it's making you delirious. Needy. Hips rolling up to meet his and he's pushing you down every time. Teeth scraping against your skin and fingers pinching at your chest. “Taehyung,” It sounds more desperate than you intend it to. He's groaning back in response, face lifting from your skin to admire the red mark he's left behind.

Tongue dragging over it, soothing it with a simple swipe. Hands re-positioned on either side of your head, his gaze drops to watch the way your hips move in order to meet his, a smirk pressed on his lips. “Fuck, look at you... such a mess.” He's pushing forward, cock meeting your clit perfectly.

Strained whimper ripping through your throat as you brace your hands on his side, back arching into him. “Grinding that pretty pussy all over my cock, didn't even let me get undressed. You're so wet, huh?” Now you knew what the boys were on about when they clowned him for being mouthy. Had laughed along before, but having his words directed to you was no laughing matter.

You knew what you were doing. You could feel the effect of what you were doing but something about having him point it out in that breathy tone of his was hot. What you didn't expect was for him to want you to talk back, but the slow of his hips is quickly warning you of your role.

“Don't stop,” You're gasping, hands reaching out to him. “I could cum like this,” Your whispering, cheeks heating up at the admission. How embarrassing, losing it over dry humping, you half expect him to laugh it off as a joke.

But he doesn't, instead, he's lowering his body back onto yours, the movement of his hips picking up in speed. “Me too,” He breathes out, fingers tangling in your hair as his tongue teases against your covered lips. “Wrap your legs around me,”

His words are muffled, but you understand him enough to lift your legs, ankles locking behind his back. He drives into you like he's balls deep inside of you, pulling gasps and moans from your lips. Nails pressed into his skin as you beg him not to stop, chanting your near release. And just as you feel it bubble up in your stomach, his low pants of your name getting to you. Just as you're about to be knocked over the edge you've been teetering on, Jin's voice is breaking through.

His loud laughter bleeding through the door behind you, followed by the low grumble of Joon's voice. The jingle of his key is what snaps Tae out of it, body freezing as his head lifts to glare at the door.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You're quick to push him off, looking away as he adjusting the throbbing bulge in his pants – leaving you to wipe at the slobber-dampened mark on your chest. Jin and Joon are stepping in just as you're rushing upstairs for a shirt. Their laughter filling the downstairs as you rummage through drawers for something to pull on.

All while shoving your raging thoughts out of your mind. Still in shock that that actually happened... whatever that was. Taehyung was into you. He had said it and then kissed you. God, he kissed you. Would've been to be able to fully enjoy it if you weren't so damn greedy.

Just one taste and you were wanting the whole thing and from the look of it, he was willing to give it to you. But what if it had been a fluke. A one-off because of whatever happened to Ailee and the fact that you were there. Into you, but what did that really mean? Would that change anything?

You dare to hope, even though you're sure you're wrong. There was a lot going on tonight. Him fighting with Ailee, you being torn away from Hoseok before you can do anything properly. You were high! Still, high to be honest. Would he still be into you when he was sobering up?

Finding out is the last thing on your list. Fitting yourself as his best friend after your quiet crush was one thing. Doing that after he's taken back being into you was another. You didn't want to think about what a disaster that would be, you'd rather just go home and sleep.

Jin is turning to happily greet you as you make your way downstairs, while Joon makes room for you on the couch. Taehyung doesn't look up, cheeks flushed and eyes glued to his knees. You'd give everything to know what he's thinking.

“Yn! Tae said you were here. We're gonna open Monopoly, wanna play?” It's an invitation from Jin that you'd usually be jumping at. Claiming your designated money bag piece without a thought, so he's shocked when you're shaking your head. “Think I'm gonna just head home, turn in early.”

Tae looks up at the sound of your departure, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He had hoped you would want to stay, so he could have a chance to talk to you properly. Tell you how he was feeling even if he didn't fully understand it yet. He wanted to tell you that he liked you and he wanted to hear you say it back.

Let you know that he wanted to try to be good at relationships because he wanted to try with you. He's standing with that in mind, shrinking back when you're looking at him. There before did he feel nervous around you, but with all this weighing on his chest, he doesn't know how else to feel.

“Let me walk you home,” He offers, it's a twenty-minute walk across campus. Enough time for him to talk to you... or just be around you for longer.

You're shaking your head, though. Pushing an easy smile onto your lips. “It's fine. I texted Jimin,” It's a lie and he knows it is, but he doesn't call you on it. Obvious that you didn't want to be around him. Most likely regretting the whole thing.

Nodding as he plops back down beside Jin. He watches as you pull your shoes back on, throwing a quick goodbye over your shoulder before stepping out. Not even sparing a proper look in his direction. A huff leaves his lips as he sinks into the couch, hands tugging through his hair.

He really screwed up.

>> PART TWO COMING...SATURDAY.

— you’ve always been cute, soft, tiny in taehyung’s eyes. but that’s changing one night when you’re accidentally sending him a naughty picture. forcing him to realize, maybe his best friend is kinda… hot?

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[arc-misadventures]

Reverse NNN with Team RWBY trying not to sleep with Jaune only for him to accidentally make them fail by being a good boyfriend (and I mean by being kind and considerate for the whole month)

NNN : RWBY

Yang: Girls, we’re doing NNN!

Blake: Beg pardon?

Ruby: What, why?!

Weiss: Why would we do something as asinine as that?

Jaune: Isn’t that a guy thing? Why would you girls do it?

Yang: Because of you!

Jaune: Me? What did I do?!

Yang: Be yourself; you cute sexy bastard!

Jaune: Eh?

Yang: We keep going after you and sleeping with you! And it’s starting to effect us! We’re tired, sore, and cramped!

Blake: But, thoroughly satisfied!

Yang: Extremely so!

Jaune: Okay… So, is this all my fault?

Yang: No, its our fault for always going after you!

Weiss: To be fair, he did have a hand to play in all of this…

Ruby: More than just a hand…

Yang: Down girl. But, nonetheless! We need to resist the temptation, and stop having sex with, Jaune! At least for one month!

Blake: Okay… As much as I think all of this is stupid, Yang’s right, we could use a little break. We’ve been going at it allot…

Weiss: I’d be lying if my hips didn’t need a brake…

Ruby: The limps I get in my legs is affecting my grades…

Jaune: Sounds like you’ve already made up your minds ladies. Don’t worry girls, I’ll do everything in my power to help you make your way through this!

Ruby: We’ve got our boyfriends permission! Let’s do this Team RWBY!

RWBY: Yeah!

~~~

Seventeen Days Later

~~~

Ruby: Yang…?

Yang: Yeah…?

Ruby: Fuck you…

Yang: W-What?! Where did that come from?!

Ruby: You! You making us do this damn challenge!

Yang: Hey, you agreed to go along with it!

Ruby: I wouldn’t agreed if I’d know you’d drag us into hell!

Yang: I did not!

Weiss: Like hell you did!

Blake: These have been the worst three weeks of my life!

Yang: Wha… what’s happening?

Ruby: Since you won’t let us sleep with, Jaune! Jaune’s been very kind and supportive of us, and its hell!

Yang: Wha-What did he do?

Ruby: I’ve been so upset and anxious, Jaune keeps giving me freshly baked cookies! Delicious, Arc family cookies! You know what that does to me?! I’ve been running like crazy lately, not to burn off all those calories! But, to keep my sex drive in check!

Yang: W-What, you don’t have a sex drive.

Ruby: I’m a fifteen years old, in the midst of going through puberty! Of course I have a sex drive of a horny rabbit high on caffeine!

Yang: I didn’t need to know this…

Ruby: We’ve had an orgy together!

Yang: Okay, okay! I get it! Its not that bad for you guys right?

Blake: He took, and hid all my… books! He said he didn’t want me to fail the challenge so he hid them. But, he promised me he would give me them back as soon as we’re done.

Yang: That doesn’t sound so bad.

Blake: No, it isn’t… What is bad, is that he said that if i managed to do it, he would read any book of my choice, in… The Voice…

Ruby: Oh gods, not the voice?!

Weiss: Can I join you, please?! I can’t handle this anymore!

Yang: What?! Weiss, how could you, you’re the strongest among us!

Weiss: Yang, I’m a high class, Atlasian who happens to be the daughter of the wealthiest, most despicable person ever! Hiding my emotions isn’t a skill, its a way of life!

Yang: Meaning?

Weiss: I want my, Daddy to play with his sweet little, Princess, and tell me I’m a good girl, while he smothers me in love! And, his seed!

Yang: Okay… Well, at least I’m not breaking apart like you guys.

Blake: Really…

Yang: Yeah?

Blake: Tell me Yang, hows your back?

Yang: Little stiff from carrying these girls around all day!

Blake: Yeah, so, I take it Jaune hasn’t been giving you those shoulder messages you like so much?

Yang: W-What?

Blake: You know, the ones where you lie on his bed, laying on your belly with nothing but a pair spats on to hide your modesty. All the while he rubs oil all over you, caresses every nook and cranny upon your flawless body. Going down your body, lower and lower, until…!

Yang: Ahh okay!!! I can’t handle it anymore either! He keeps offering his godly back rubs as a way to relax, when those get me going faster than Nora on coffee rush! And, I can’t go to the gym anymore to bent off steam, because they banned me, I kept on breaking all the training equipment in hormonal fits of rage! Ahh?! Why did I ever think this was a good idea?!!!

~~~

Jaune: Hey, girls, need something?

Ruby: Yes, you!

Jaune: Meaning?

Weiss: We give up! We can’t do this challenge anymore! You’ve been too good of a sweet and loving boyfriend that its making us unbearably horny!

Jaune: What…?

Ruby: The cookies aren’t making me feel better, they’re making me horny!

Jaune: Eh…?

Yang: Please pour your cream all over my back!

Jaune: Context…?

Blake: I’ve been a bad kitty, Master! I can’t keep doing this challenge anymore. Please, punish me for failing it, Master!

Jaune: Oh… Okay, what’s going on?

Weiss: Sorry… we just let everything come out there…

Jaune: You did…?

Weiss: Well… uhh… Ahem! What we we’re trying to say is, that because of your various endeavours to help us try, and endure this moronic challenge… It has actually brought us to the point of breaking… So, we’re asking you to take one of use, and end this horrific challenge… We admit our defeat and ask only one thing.

Jaune: That being?

Weiss: Please pick me first!

Yang: What?!

Blake: Oh no you don’t!

Ruby: Dips!

Jaune: Girls.

Yang: There is no dibs in love!

Ruby: Like hell there isn’t!

Jaune: Girls!

Weiss: I get, Jaune first!

Blake: Oh, because your a, Schnee you go first!

Weiss: Don’t bring me being a, Schnee into this!

Jaune: Girls!

Yang: Yes?

Ruby: Yes?!

Weiss: Yes, Daddy?

Blake: Oh~! The voice…

Jaune: Ahem… Blake goes first.

Blake: YES!

Yang: What?!

Weiss: Why, her?!

Ruby: Yeah, why does, Blake go first?!

Jaune: Compelling opening statement.

Blake: Yes! The Kinky Kitty wins again!

Jaune: P-Please tell me you don’t call yourself that…

Ruby: Its her account name on all the porn sites she’s on…

Jaune: Of course it is…

Yang: How do you know that?!

Ruby: Again, Yang; Hormonal teenager! Hormonal teenager!!!

[noonaishere]

Work of Art [J.JH] - one hundred and eighteen | THE PART WHERE YOU LOSE JAEHYUN ON THE SUBWAY

“This is our stop,” you said and got off the train. As you pushed past other people you remembered why you hated Grand Central Station. The doors pinged and closed and you turned around and saw Jaehyun, stuck behind a couple people who had caged him in with their impatience, still on the train. 

“Oh god!”

You tried to text him but remembered that he didn’t have his phone switched to an American carrier for the trip because you’d both decided to just use your phone. It was the one thing he let you do to try and save him money and now you wish you hadn’t.

“Fuck!”

You didn’t know what to do. Your phone seemed to be on the WiFi for the station but you didn’t know if his was since he was in a tunnel now. You texted him frantically to get off at the next station and hoped that it went through and that he saw it.

Or maybe that he’d just be much smarter than you - an idiot human who loses other humans on the train - and would just get off at the next station anyway.

Nervous, you ran to the map on the wall and looked at the stops for the train you’d got off of. Your hands shook, you couldn’t believe you just got Jeong Jaehyun of all fucking people lost on a fucking train on the New York subway system. He was fine, his English was fluent and he wasn’t a stupid person. He was probably fine, he could figure out the train to get back when he got your message, right? He was most likely fine… 

You remembered the Metrocard was in your pocket and you weren’t sure if he had any money on him.

“Fuck!” You said again as you checked which train was leaving that platform next. Fortunately it was making the same stop at the next station as the train Jaehyun was on. You thanked the universe for the concept of redundancy.

You anxiously waited for the train, your brows knit in worriment, your leg bouncing from not being able to just run after him. If you said that you didn’t for a nano second, consider jumping onto the track to run after him when the train pulled away, you’d be lying.

You were currently still thinking about it.

You kicked yourself internally. You brought him here, across the world, made him wait in a stupid park while you got in a fight with your stupid family, and he was so nice and so helpful the whole time - he even bought at snack for you at the airport and ordered room service for both of you - and now you lost him on the fucking train? What was wrong with you? Were you deficient? Did you enjoy being the dumbest person you knew?

Did you want to get rid of him?

But… wait. No.

BUT WAIT, NO.

You didn’t want to get rid of him. You wanted him to stick around. You wanted to be around him more if possible. You wanted to stay with him for forever and see more places with him and meet more friends and text him late at night and first thing in the morning and talk to him on the phone and sit near him and look at flowers together and hold his hand and hug him and maybe even kiss him and--

… Fuck.

Fuck... You liked him.

Of course you liked him. You always liked him. No matter how hard you tried not to, you kept liking him and you couldn’t keep lying to yourself like this.

You liked being near him. You liked having him around. He was just so sweet and smart and cute and helpful and always on your side. He indulged your stupid whims like modeling for you and hiding behind random objects as you tried to get your friends together and he was always so kind and-- and--

YOU LOST HIM. ON A TRAIN. IN A CITY. HE IS NOT FAMILIAR WITH.

You screamed internally.

AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

For a second you thought you were screaming externally, as the screeching brakes of the approaching train drowned out your internal thoughts. You got on. You checked your phone. You didn’t see a message from him at all. You held onto the pole so hard you thought your knuckles would break the skin and stared out the window into the dark blur of the tunnel wall as you wondered if he even got your message and would he even be at the next station.

Your mind was a stream of curse words and whatever the panicked internal monologue version of a keysmash was... but mostly, it was: FUCK.

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.

FUCK--

The train pulled into the next station and the automated voice read out the station name. You didn’t hear it but you knew it was the right one because it could only be the next station. You stood behind a few other people and waited - not at all patiently - and your vision tunneled on the rubber bumpers of the doors as you scanned them for any sense of the release of pressure in the rubber itself that would mean the doors were about to open. When they finally did open after what felt like forever, it took all of your self control not to shove everyone aside like Godzilla rampaging through Tokyo and just explode out of the doors trying to find him.

You let the people in front of you go first.

You hurried out into the station and looked around. He was pretty tall, though there were people in the station taller than him, and so many people on the platform that you couldn’t see past anyone. You wished you were taller so you could see over them--

Assholes, with the audacity to be so tall and in your way. Fucking... goddamnit.

You ran over to a nearby bench and stood on it to see over the crowd--

“Y/n!”

You spun around and teetered as you almost knocked yourself off. “Jaehyun!”

He ran through the crowd towards you. You jumped off the bench and ran through the crowd towards him. When you collided, you wrapped your arms around his neck and held on.

He laughed at your reaction.

“I can’t believe I lost you! I’m so sorry!”

“I���m fine. I got your text. I’m fine.”

“No! I’m so stupid! I can’t believe I almost got you lost in this shithole city when I lov--”

Your hand slapped itself over your mouth automatically, the way one pulls their hand away from a hot stove without thinking. You froze and pulled back. He didn’t want to date anyone-- you knew that.

He looked shocked for a second, eyes wide with confusion.

You hadn't meant to say that and now you'd fucked everything up. Your eyes widened in terror as you could only imagine what horrors would take place in a moment, as he would inevitably tell you that he wasn't interested and you would inevitably break down crying in a subway station that smelled the way all New York City subway stations smelled in the summer. Your eyes stung, though you couldn’t tell if it was from the smell or form the tears you were fighting back.

Back, you fuckers! Not now!

But his expression softened. He smiled. That warm, sweet smile you caught him looking at you with sometimes that made your heart melt and made you want to fall into his arms and also hide your face from how unnaturally pretty he was. You wanted to paint that smile so you could look at it forever. He collected your hands in his and held them for a moment.

“Y/n, I really like you… I have this whole time. Will you go out with me?”

You cried. You felt so silly, but you cried.

“Are you okay?” Confused, his hands came up to hold your face and wiped a tear away.

You nodded. “I’m happy.”

You legs almost gave out from the relief of anxiety and he pulled you into a hug. You laughed tearily in his arms. He laughed as well, both at your reaction and with you. He pulled back to look at you. His eyes scanned your face and fell onto your lips, your faces moved towards each other and you kissed.

Train cars screeched to a halt and passengers disembarked and boarded and shuffled around you.

After a few seconds he pulled away. “I was actually going to ask if you still had the Metrocard.”

You burst out laughing.

He laughed as well. “I’m sorry. I ruined the moment.”

“No, I have it.”

He laughed as he held you and you looked up at him. He was so cute you couldn’t stand it: and those dimples, absolutely blinding; you were under attack by them and thoroughly enjoying it.

And now he had asked you out; not some half-assed word salad, ‘If she says no I can just play it off,’ shit. He had really asked. With a real, unambiguous question and everything.

You smiled at it all, unable to contain how happy you were. Though your eyes were blurry with tears, you gazed up into his: you hadn't been this close to him before and you found yourself realizing what a soft, deep, dark brown his eyes were.

“What?” He asked.

“You’re just-- you’re so pretty.”

He squinted at you, a question, almost.

“Anna said you didn’t want to date anyone.”

“I...” he laughed quietly. “I only said that because the only person I wanted to date was you.”

Your eyes widened.

“Is it so unbelievable?”

“No-- I-- why didn’t you just ask me out?”

“Umm, Johnny and I heard a conversation we shouldn’t have, months ago, between you, Anna, and Eunji.”

You tried to remember what he could be talking about.

“At a cafe off campus?”

“...Oh?”

“You said you didn’t want to date anyone.”

“Oh. Yeah... I mean...” you laughed.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to date anyone because I didn’t want anyone to waste my time.”

He looked at you simply.

“You’ve never wasted my time, Jaehyun. Not for a second.”

Tears rolled down your cheek again but these were different: not tears of panic or of joy, but tears of catharsis. Honesty.

“Any moment spent with you, Jaehyun...”

He wiped a tear away, he own eyes becoming glassy at watching you.

“...any moment was worth it. You’re-- you’re worth it, Jaehyun.”

He smiled, the action sending a tear down his own cheek.

You wiped it away.

“Any moment I spend with you is worth it, as well. Even carrying a delirious you across campus so you can sleep.” He gave you a gentle shake and you laughed at the memory. He smiled.

You covered your eyes and laughed.

“What?”

“I can’t believe we both thought the other didn’t want to date at all.” You laughed again. “We’re so stupid.”

“Well...” He tried to argue.

You implored him with your eyes.

“Maybe a little bit.”

You smiled.

“We can’t help it if we were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You were in the wrong place at the wrong time, I was given false information.”

“Clearly we need to take up a complaint with someone.”

You snickered at his joke.

A young man walked over and - whether from not being able to read the room or not caring - asked if you wanted to buy any candy from him. You both shook your head and he walked off.

But that had pulled you out of the romance of the moment, and there was still one thing you wanted to say--

“Can... Can I say it again?”

“What?”

“I want to say it the right way. Not in a panic because I thought I lost you forever, or at least for a few hours.”

“I probably wasn’t very lost to begin with. I could have just walked to a Starbucks and used the wifi to call you.”

You hit him gently. “I was scared.”

He laughed softly. “Fine, then I was lost forever and only you could have saved me.”

You laughed and hit him again.

“I’d love to hear you said it ‘the right way.’“

His eyes, with all their warmth and kindness, almost scared you for a moment as he looked directly into yours. You looked down.

All that was left now was to unfold that thing in your chest, the feelings you had crushed down and stamped down for so long, folded into the tiniest thing you could make them so they wouldn’t take up any space in your mind or your life. You took a deep breath as you tried to let go of that hold. It was okay now, this was Jaehyun you were talking about, the person who’d go out of his way to do anything for you.

As he had amply proved over the past year.

Someone who’d taken care of you when you refused to take care of yourself, someone who was always on your team even if your team was deliriously yelling at someone after months of withstanding all their abuse, someone who helped you go back home - so you could confirm that your shitty family was still shitty - without even having to be asked for help.

He just...

Cared.

All you ever wanted was someone who cared.

Without prompting, you could feel that folded and pressed thing in your chest open, all the pressure releasing and the feelings that had been kept inside to develop like a stunted plant that was kept away from sunlight and water; you felt them bloom into the warmth you felt every time you were around him. What you had been trying to hold back this whole time. The very thing you had tried so hard for months not to admit.

You looked up at him, your cheeks tear stained and your eyes still wet from the release of emotion.

“Jaehyun, I--”

He smiled.

“I love you.”

His smile broadened, his dimples popping off like fireworks. You couldn’t help yourself and you poked a finger into one and giggled. He laughed and leaned his forehead against yours as he hugged you.

“I love you too.”

You couldn’t help yourself but laugh again through the tears, both from all the feelings you refused to let yourself feel over the past almost year. He hugged you tighter.

You pulled back. “Kiss me again?”

His smiled wide. “Of course.”

The subway was hot and muggy and dirty and all the worst parts of New York City in the summer - everything you were more than happy to leave behind - but you didn’t even care, because Jaehyun was holding you in his arms like you were the most precious thing in the world and kissing you like you were the only person that ever mattered.

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