#let me know if you ever need explanations about the EXE world ;w;

[nnight-dances]

SOME GUY!

pairings: mark lee x f!reader genre: fluff, angst, heated moments tropes: close friends to lovers?, mark avoids u because he's stupid, taeyong as your perfect ex who's still in love w u, u kiss mark's face to shut him up. warnings: mint ice-cream slander, mark is some guy, skinship, college frat party, not proofread.

author's note: haha guess who's in their mark phase hhhhh... sorry he's just such an interesting guy i could write him all day long. either way!!! more mark appreciation, less depression <3

—

at the end of the day, mark really was just some guy.

that’s what he thought to himself everytime he sat down to really consider the reality of all things. he doesn’t mean to get all self-deprecating and emo like that, but it was just a neutral truth thing that kinda hurts the first time you realize it but then it’s just the obvious thing in your daily life. but of course, if he ever did tell someone that he always felt like some guy among a bunch of cool guys, regardless of their gender, he would have to sit through one of those ultimately useless and pitiful speeches about how talented he really was.

— “you know what? you’re right!”

mark’s thoughts zap off their route when he hears you agree with his remark a few seconds ago. honestly, he hadn’t been completely sure if you’d heard him because of the lack of reaction you’d given him. but when you suddenly chuckle and agree with him, mark chokes over the stream of dr pepper in his throat.

he coughs desperately, “wait, what?”

your smile widens, “you’re just some guy. that’s like the perfect description of you.”

under normal circumstances, mark thinnks he would’ve been offended by how certain you sound. but the way you say it? it’s not like you’re trying to be mean or condescending… more like you’re just saying the truth. the neutral truth thing…

“i can’t believe you,” mark mutters, face splitting in a laugh, “i can’t believe you’re agreeing with me!” you look slightly confused but continue, “don’t tell me you’re hurt? you were the one who brought it up!”

mark shakes his head, controlling his laughter, still slightly losing his mind. “you’re really something, bro. i just didn’t expect you to actually be honest.” he laughs again, taking a sip of his drink again, becoming aware that he was being too loud for a bookstore. thankfully though, on a brief glance around, nobody seemed to care.

you fiddle with the zipper of your pencil pouch in thought. then, a shrug as you look back at mark, “hmm, isn’t that funny. i’m some thing, you’re some guy.”

mark falls into another fit of laughter before he knows it, disbelieving more than anything over your badly disguised shamelessness. you hold in a laugh as you land the last punch to his gut, “the perfect pair, isn’t it?” — the punch that sends him right into an oblivion of a world where nothing except you makes sense.

(ok perhaps, mark was being a tad dramatic. you know what he means though: he’s smitten.)

—

if someone were to kidnap you for the purposes of interrogating your honesty behind your claims that you thought mark was some guy, you’d probably get shot in the head instead, because there was no way you were letting anyone in on the information that you did not actually consider mark some guy.

maybe, a little, yes, but at this point, the phrase ‘some guy’ needs some more definiton. some guy as in boring and bland and dry and overdone? absolutely not. if that was what mark was, you wouldn’t have been committing every last one of your wednesday evenings, aka the only free evenings you ever get, to sitting in a crowded bookstore to pretend to do homework with him. you never did homework with mark around.

mark was the kind of some guy that was just being himself. yeah, that’s all you got. mark was mark. good explanation.

“bro? y/n, you good?”

you blink, finding mark swaying in front of you. you were currently sat on a bench near the building where your next class was.

“uhh, sorry,” you take off your headphones to look up at mark, “what are you doing on this part of campus?”

mark shrugs with a playful smile, “why can’t i be here?”

“because you literally don’t take any classes in the econ department?”

he shrugs again, “what if i’ve changed my ways? we’re still young and free, y/n, think a little outside the box, won’t you?”

“you’re taking econ? how- how did you-?”

“oh, look at that,” mark cuts you off, holding up his phone in front of your face. the time reads 11:05 am. “it’s time for our class. let’s go.” you’re busy processing his words (our class???) when he pulls you by the arm and toward the hall behind you.

and that’s the story of how you go from knowing absolutely nobody in your econ class, to sitting next mark in the extremely damp and cramped chairs of your econ class which means your arm is constantly touching his which you, for some reason, don’t hate. probably because the chilly fall wind coming through the window next to mark always makes you glad for the warmth.

mark, on the other hand, smiles a small smile whenever you shuffle closer because even though, the guy (doyoung is his name?) in front of him is always asking him to close the window, he would rather not.

—

“you’re kidding? ice-cream? in this fucking weather?” you question mark, coughing a fake cough to make your point.

“what are you, a coward?”

when you give mark an unimpressed look, he breaks a laugh, grabbing hold of you by your elbow. cheekily, he says, “please. for me?”

you frown, feeling your resolve crumble under his stupid gaze, “i hate you,” you say but let mark pull you after him into the tiny corner shop.

the two of you huddle over the menu of the ice-cream shop, and you exclaim quietly, “oh! i’ve been wanting to try their raspberry choco flavor for a while!” mark looks between you and menu, “ah, really? that sounds kinda good.”

then, he shifts to look at the girl behind the counter, “uhh, we’ll have one mint chocolate and one raspberry choco, please.” you gasp at mark’s choice, “m-mint chocolate?! mark. i think i might break up with you.”

mark is too busy reddening at your joke that hits too close to home to notice the worker chuckling at you. she processes your orders and mark has time to recover.

when he looks back at you, you’re still grimacing. “i didn’t think you could get any worse.”

“are you sure you should be saying that to someone who’s treating you to icecream?”

“huh?” your eyes widen and then you smile, “ahhh, i see. i wasn’t aware you were bribing me into have a favorable opinion of you.” before mark can retort though, you continue with a smirk, “i’m not complaining though.”

your smirk both flusters and scares mark because it’s evidence you’re upto no good in your head but before he can air his suspicion, you’re reaching out for the two cones of icecream that the girl is handing out.

“you guys are really cute together,” the worker remarks shyly, giving you a thumbs up of approval.

mark chokes on the first bite of his mint choco icecream. you look at mark and he expects you to shut down the worker swiftly, but then you reach for his hand, pulling him closer with a bashful smile and say, “thanks, that’s really sweet of you.”

“uh-?” you cut mark’s question off by pulling him out of the store after you.

when you’re outside, you burst into laughter at the perplexed look on mark’s look, looking absolutely adorable next to his already melting green blob of an abomination.

—

the next morning, mark is still suffering through it, unable to come to terms with your actions yesterday. they were honestly not out of character for you. you were always one to do shit just because you knew it would get a reaction out of someone else. like, that time you didn’t tell mark he had spinach in his teeth the whole time he was speaking in econ and only told him at the end. yeah, sure, but surely that was different from you pretending that you and mark were together. right?

mark’s pulled out of his thoughts when his phone buzzes next to his pillow. he stirs to his side, opening his phone only to find a text from you.

y/n: fuck u

mark’s heart skips a beat, no matter the fact that you’re swearing at him the first thing in the morning.

mark: what did i do now…

y/n: it’s ur fault

mark: ???

y/n: i’m fuckin sick

“oh, fuck,” mark swears, sitting up with a frown, fingers quickly shooting a flurry of concerned texts back.

mark: oh shit really?

mark: im so sorry

mark: how bad is it?

y/n: it’s just a cold, dw not that bad

mark: what does that mean?

you, however, don’t bother to elaborate any more on your condition, going silent.

he groans, guilt settling in the slouch of his shoulder as he stares at his screen for a solid 10 minutes before giving up on your response. as he gets ready for the day, at the top of mark’s to do list is to visit your dorm room with medicine and snacks.

but by the time 3 pm rolls around, mark finds himself constantly distracted by classes and homeowork. he looks at the time and sighs. you hadn’t managed to get back to him. but considering how he hadn’t seen you in econ or lunch, your cold was more than ‘not bad’.

sitting outside the library to collect his thoughts, he spots chaewon, your roommate. the two of you had run into mark on a grocery shopping errand and mark had had a decent enough conversation to make him run up to chaewon.

“oh!” chaewon is surprised at first when mark blocks her way with a quick hey. “oh hey, mark!”

“um,” mark looks at the take-out box in her hands, “um, is that for y/n?”

“oh, yeah. did you hear? she woke up this morning with a fever.”

“a fever?”

“yeah, it was pretty high too. i had to force her to stay in bed or i think she would’ve just gone to class like the dumbass she is.”

mark frowns, “oh, no. has she eaten all day?”

chaewon hums in thought, “she told me she was fine for breakfast. i’m not sure if she had lunch though so i was just going to take some pizza and salad in case she’s been starving.”

mark’s frown deepens as she adds, “oh i better hurry though! i have to get back here in time for my dance practice.”

“ah…” he scratches his head, “uhh, if you’re busy, i wouldn’t mind dropping it off to y/n.”

chaewon raises an eyebrow, “wait, really? you’d do that?”

“um, yeah. it’s my fault she got sick anyway. i made her eat icecream last night.”

she laughs, “a little icecream wouldn’t have done that. but sure! it’d be a great help, if you did that. thanks, mark.”

mark hadn’t thought this through, he realizes when he reaches the door that reads y/n on the door, right next to chaewon. he takes a deep breath, clearing his throat, before knocking on the door. “y/n?” his voice breaks mid-sentence and he wants to hide in a hole somewhere, but you’re quick to throw your door open.

your hair is up in a bun which bobs in rhythm with your head, when you find mark outside your room, “mark? what the fuck are you doing here?”

“you weren’t responding to my texts,” he mumbles, and then holds up chaewon’s takeout box in one hand and in the other, the bag of medicine and snacks he’d packed. “i come bearing gifts though.”

you cough hoarsely into your elbow, pulling at the hem of your green hoodie as you consider mark in front of you. “you could’ve told me you were coming,” you sound… shy? mark thinks as he follows into your room after you gesture him to enter.

he looks at your bed and chuckles at the mess that is your bed. then, he smiles as he looks at the eccentric yet coherent collage of pictures and letters on your wall. “this is so you,” he comments and places the food and medicine on your table.

you pout, “a room that looks like all hell broke lose… is me? wow, thanks, mark.”

mark wants to refute your comment, he does, but then he gets distracted by how the way you say his name in your hoarse inside voice and he coughs a little. “i got you medicine though?” he sounds squeaky to his own ears.

you smile though at that, looking inside the bag he’s kept. “ahhh, ramen! i knew i could count on you, mark lee.”

mark almost wants to beg you to stop saying his name so much. but instead he shoots you a thumbs up, “how are you holding up?”

you nod in thought, still unpacking everything mark bought, “hmm, i’m alive. you should’ve seen me in the morning though i felt like something was trying to crawl out my skin.”

you laugh at the imagery, pausing when you catch the guilty look on mark. you already know he’s about to apologize when he opens his mouth. you hold up a finger threateningly, “i know i said that in the morning, but it’s not actually your fault. i always get sick like this every time fall rolls around.”

“no, for real though, i did force you to come eat icecream with me, didn’t i? i’m sorry.”

“ugh, mark, trust me, i wouldn’t have eaten the icecream if i really didn’t want to,” you say, too kindly for your usual snarkiness as if you can sense how genuine mark’s apology was, “for real, my body’s just weird like that.”

when mark remains silent for another minute, you groan, “i know! you can repay me. stay and we can watch a movie or something. all the sleeping’s making me feel gross. plus, i couldn’t eat all this food myself.”

and that’s how mark finds himself settled next to you on your bed, blanket covering half his body, watching gilmore girls (your fall preference of entertainment, it seems). the first half hour went by fine, with one of you commenting ocassionally at something the characters did, but then you shifted closer to mark with a cough.

he was shocked at first but then he wonders if the medicine you’d taken before were starting to take effect. (he’d questioned how wise it was for you to be taking them before watching something, but he also didn’t want to make your condition worse.)

“you good, y/n?” he mumbles under his breath when he feels your head come to rest against his shoulder. he sounds surprisingly calm for the turmoil that is bursting within his veins at the contact.

you hum in acknowledgement, sniffing a little, “yeah, just a little sleepy.”

“oh, you should probably rest then,” mark reaches for the spacebar to pause the episode but your cold hand pulls his finger away. except you don’t let go of his finger, instead seeming to crave warmth, you’re suddenly holding his hand, icy fingertips coming to rest against the back of his palm.

mark’s hearbeat is in his ears by now but he lets you hold his hand as you protest, “mm, don’t wanna sleep. just keep watching.”

you don’t sound promising but he doesn’t argue, letting you having the final say in this situation.

five minutes later though, you stir against mark’s side, arm now in his lap and… yeah, you’re falling asleep.

mark freezes at the realization when he sees your eyelashes fluttering shut. oh god. oh no… this wasn’t good for his well-being. or his obsession with you. or anything.

he clears his throat, hating himself, “um, y/n?”

you don’t respond except for a short grunt that indicates you don’t intend to wake up. he doesn’t have the heart to move you but also, this wasn’t right, was it?

there wasn’t anything wrong with it per se, except of course the fact that it did not help mark’s big fat ugly crush on you or the fact that he spent the whole day thinking about how you were sick and it was his fault.

you move slightly in your sleep, suddenly seeming to come to. your eyes open a little, “mark?” your voice is dangerously low.

“yeah?” mark can hear the nerves in his voice.

you’re pulling him now, without a warning, onto your bed. “you’re warm. stay.”

mark’s eyes widen when you turn to hug him around the waist.

fuck. fuck. fuck. FUCK. this was… THIS IS…. UTREJKLSGIURKEJU?????YGSAELRIAY

mark brain malfunctions for a good minute before he remembers how to think. first, he thinks he has to leave or you’ll hate him forever. but when he tries to budge, you groan an annoyed groan making him scared to leave..

??? what is one supposed to do in these circumstances?

he stills, deciding it was better if he let you doze off comfortably. he slowly places an arm around your shoulder, patting a reassuring back rub into your skin. you nuzzle closer into him, clueless of the way mark is short-circuiting.

before he knows it though, mark finds himself dozing off, chin pressed up against the bone of your shoulder. the sleep isn’t chaotic like his thoughts usually are, but it’s a peaceful sleep, the kind that you only get when you share a bed with someone.

—

ever since that eventful… nap, mark has found himself growing closer to you, in all senses of the phrase. you’d seemed to start trusting mark more, your bookstore evenings turning into whole days spent in each other’s company. sometimes you’d be at each other’s room, more often yours, but otherwise, you’d end up in some new corner of campus, giggling over half-completed essays and collectively complaining about econ.

you’d also grown closer… physically. something about spending a sick evening in someone’s arms, you’d like to say. whatever the reason was, one way or another, you’d find a way to be next to each other.

you’d made a habit of holding mark’s hand, especially on colder days when your fingers lost all feeling till you pressed them into the knuckles of mark’s warm ones. other times, mark’s hand would be on your shoulder or back, casually doodling into your skin, a lazy smile on his face while you dramatically narrate some event from your life.

mark could tell something was different, though he dared not investigate what it was, too afraid to mess up what he had right now.

but then, he does the stupid thing of asking you the question.

it’s on a late night hangout in your room when chaewon’s out for the weekend to visit home, and y’all are sprawled on your bed, exhausted from a movie marathon.

something about the dim lights and the way you lean against his shoulder, makes him speak. “do you like someone right now?”

for a good while, mark thinks he mustn’t have asked the question out loud because of how quiet you are. but then, “what about you?”

“not fair! i asked you first,” mark complains with a chuckle. you shrug, “not telling if you don’t.”

he rolls his eyes, “two can play this game, y’know. i’m not giving.”

“ugh, fine. i’ll tell you about my ex for now.”

mark’s ear perks up at the mention and he waits for you to continue.

“ah, this is so embarassing to talk about. but.. last semester i was with taeyong.”

“wait. lee taeyong?”

“mhm-hm. you know him? he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off. we broke up right before new year’s eve so that was fun.”

mark falls silent as he recalls everything he can about lee taeyong. so far he has: perfect face and killer charm. oh yeah, wasn’t he a student athlete?

“you dated an athelete?” mark can’t help but ask.

“see! i know you’d make fun,” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“no- no, i’m not making fun. that’s insane. taeyong is, like, famous.”

you groan, “and you’re listing all the reasons i broke up with him.”

mark isn’t sure what he can do with this information so he releases a strained chuckle, suddenly ready to head back to his room. he can’t be too obvious though, so he waits a bit.

“what about you?” you ask him, poking his arm. “any embarassing boyfriends?”

mark laughs despite it all, “i wish. i was in a silly little relationship but it was so long ago that i hardly remember.” with that, he sits up, a little abruptly.

you frown as he clears his throat, “um, anyway, i should get back soon. i’ve got to sleep.”

“the fuck?” you question, “it’s like 11 pm?”

“well, yeah, i have an early morning tomorrow.”

“on a sunday?”

“yeah, uhm, i forgot to tell you about this new job i have. anyways, i should really sleep soon. i’ll see you later, yeah?”

and just like that, mark leaves your room, with you gaping at how fast he’d made his exit, not even bothering to make real excuses. new job? halfway through the semester? yeah, sure. you feel your mood dampening at mark’s sudden cold shoulder, wondering if you’d upset him. but no matter how many times you thought about it, you weren’t sure what had made him act like that.

mark, on the other hand, can’t get the conversation out of his head, even as he walks to the library at 8 am on a sunday, ready to finish all traces of homework in existence. it doesn’t matter though because sitting in the silence of the study room, his mind repeats your words.

he was a good guy, but i don’t know, something felt off.

boy, did mark feel stupid as shit. for everything? for thinking you were into him. somewhere along the way, your hands on his had him confused. for a minute there, he had stopped thinking about how he was actually just some guy. some guy who you chose to hang out with now and then, some guy who was your friend. mark was nowhere close to being taeyong, and even taeyong didn’t cut it for you. really, though, he couldn’t blame you. you really did deserve the best anyone could imagine.

a text from you interrupts his self-loathing spiralling.

y/n: heyoo!! u alive?

y/n: u left kinda abruptly last night. is everything ok?

mark clenches his fist as if to obliterate the hopeful smile that threatens his face. he thinks of how he might respond: sorry cant talk i’ve to make sure i’m not in love with u before i see u again or maybe: sorry i’m just trying not to cry in broad daylight bc i love u too much hjbykyvkvyf

“fuck! sorry!” a voice pulls mark back from his head. he looks up to see who’s broken into his study room… only to see lee taeyong standing there in confusion. of course this happens to mark.

“uhh, can i help you?” mark barely controls the snap that tries to escape him at the sight of taeyong.

“um, sorry,” taeyong looks down at his phone then back at mark, “i could’ve sworn i booked this room for the next hour…”

mark frowns, certain he’d booked this room for the next two hours. usually, he would’ve just told taeyong he’s booked it wrong, but instead he just says, “oh? i guess you can take this room then. i’ll go somewhere else.”

mark starts packing up but the other boy protests quickly, “no, no! it’s okay. i- um, i’d feel bad if you did that. what if… what if we shared? it’ll be nice to have someone else in the room, no?” taeyong smiles brightly at mark and the latter wants his eyes to stop working already.

call it the law of inertia, but something in mark doesn’t let him just leave the room, almost intrigued by how this might turn out. “alright, then.”

taeyong, as much as mark hates to admit it, is really nice. he hadn’t ever heard anything to refute that, but sitting silently in a room with someone really tells you all you need to know about someone. either way, the study sessions somehow seems to provide mark some sense of peace.

or so he thinks.

what he doesn’t expect is that two hours later, as the two of them are packing up to empty the room for the next occupant, for the next occupant to be… you. yes, of course, that’s gonna happen in this story.

for a moment, mark doesn’t find it particularly shocking to see you but when he notices the stiff look you share with taeyong, he realizes what’s happening.

you’d just entered the room with a knock when you’d noticed who was inside. your eyes travel between mark and taeyong, your mind unable to make sense of this.

your first thought is… is this why mark was weird last night? because he was close to taeyong and got offended by your remarks?

that would be the easy alternate, wouldn’t it? but even you can tell there’s a dryness in the way mark looks at the two of you, a look that unsettles you. of course, the sight of taeyong also unsettles you.

he speaks up before you, “y/n?”

you awkwardly wave at the two of them, “hi mark. hey taeyong. didn’t expect to see the two of you together.”

you look at mark pointedly but he’s not giving you much to work with. he just laughs as taeyong rushes to explain, “ah, i made a mistake in booking this room at the same time as mark, and he was kind enough to let me stay.”

marks want to leave right now. because of the way taeyong’s eyes are sparkling at the sight of you, hands nervously fidgeting. but he decides against it, when he sees you uneasy you seem, tight grip around the strap of your tote bag.

“what are you doing here?” mark asks and a part of you is relieved that he’s talking to you.

“um, homework. i didn’t really know what else to do ever since my friend started ghosting me.”

mark flinches at your attack, but persists in looking as indifferent as he can. “sorry about that, i got caught up finishing this essay.”

taeyong awkwardly coughs, “um, i should probably leave now. i have practice to get to.”

mark is quick to follow after taeyong, scared to death of being alone in a room with you. he doesn’t know what to do with himself around you anymore. “uhh, yeah, i’ll leave you to do homework, then! see ya!”

and just like that, it’s a repeat of last night. mark’s back receding except this time you watch him wave at you with a half-hearted smile as he leaves. you barely manage to close the door behind you before you feel yourself tear up.

this is stupid, you realize through tears, to be crying over something like this. but something like this? it meant a lot to you. you sit where mark sat minutes ago, the same disappointment in your eyes and a similar weight in your heart.

mark is not having the time of his life either though, as he walks out the library with taeyong, who starts asking questions about you as soon as he can.

“so you’re friends with y/n?” mark simply nods at that, having seen this coming.

“that’s cool. she’s really cool, isn’t she?”

“yeah, i suppose. she’s fun.”

“how close are you to her?”

mark laughs dismissively, “haha, i feel like i’ve done something wrong. calm down, bro.”

taeyong flushes at that, rubbing his neck, “oh, sorry. i didn’t mean to interrogate you like that. it’s just… you probably know about us, right?”

that words leaves taeyong’s mouth and buries itself deep into mark’s heart. us.

taeyong continues, “it’s just that i really miss her, man. i don’t think i’ve had as much fun with anyone else since her. or maybe, it’s just because i’m always comparing everyone to her.”

mark really doesn’t know what to say, feeling himself stuck in a similar situation. “hmm, it’ll get better.”

“i hope you’re right,” taeyong says, cheerfully patting mark’s back, “well, i have to go that way. see you around, bro. take care of her.”

take care of her? marks smiles remorsefully as he watches taeyong leave. and he wonders what was going on in your mind when you broke up with someone that perfect? what went on in your head when you befriended mark, just some guy?

—

on saturday, it’s been a whole week since you’ve talked to mark. you’d actually stayed up all night yesterday hoping he’d have a change of heart on friday night, and he’d text you with a can we talk? or come knocking on your door with an apologetic smile with some silly excuse. and you would’ve accepted it all because you were not familar with a mark-less existence. the past week was.. not good for you.

but on saturday night, you decide it’s enough. or rather, chaewon decides it’s enough when she sees you ready to spend the night in bed.

“y/n, i’m sorry but i can’t respect your stupid decisions anymore,” she bursts into the room with a concerned look.

you frown, “ouch? you just called me stupid.”

“because that’s what you’re being. i don’t care if you’re going through it, i’m not letting you woe over some guy on the weekend.”

you grimace at the phrase some guy, remembering your conversation with mark. “hey! i’m talking to you, miss,” chaewon’s hands pull off your bed. “let’s go out tonight. i don’t care.”

“chaewon…” you complain, voice low.

“y/n, my dear friend, stop giving up on life because mark lee is ghosting you. if i know anything about the two of you, y’all will be back to cuddling each other next week.”

you want to say you’re afraid that’s not gonna happen but chaewon is moving too fast for you. she throws a dress at you and then, a coat. “wear those and come to yunjin’s room. we’re pre-gaming.”

an hour later, you’re not feeling so bad after all. you’d forgotten how fun getting wasted really was. you giggle hopelessly when yunjin cracks another “slayyy~” at chaewon’s empty glass. as sakura pours her another shot, you nudge her with your own empty cup.

your roommate frowns a little, “you sure you’re not going too fast?”

you roll your eyes, “chaewon! you’re the one who wanted to slut me out tonight. how am i gonna do that sober?” that makes everyone double up in laughter and you down the vodka with a triumphant sigh.

another hour later, you’re really feeling yourself. the pre-game finally ended with all of you walking to the frat that was throwing tonight. the first step you take into the crowded room has you regretting your decision, but your worries go to waste once you’re hearing the music blast through your veins.

you stay within chaewon’s group for most of the night. the girls are fun, yunjin being one of the best people you’ve partied with. it’s halfway through a doja cat song when you feel your bladder getting full from all the beer. you groan at all the effort it’s gonna take to go upstairs to where the bathroom was, but you could use a break.

you quickly tell chaewon you’ll be back, pointing in the direction of the bathroom and reassure her you’re fine when she asks to come with. the world is definitely spinning as you go up the stairs but you do make it to the top without falling over.

but as soon as you reach for the door of the bathroom, you lose balance as the person inside emerges. “fuck,” you groan, falling over into the person ahead, “’m sorry,” you mumble, supporting yourself against the sink.

you’re ready to push whoever it is out of the bathroom when you heard a familar voice. “y/n?”

you look up and actually gasp when you see mark in front of you. “mark?!” you sound incredulous but honestly, you’re just ecstatic. “i miss you,” you say your thoughts shamelessly.

mark reddens or so your vision tells you. “y/n, are you drunk?”

you frown and shake your head, about to explain yourself when a loud voice outside tells you to hurry up with your business, the door still open. mark shouts a, “find somewhere else, buddy!” and shuts the door, locking it behind him.

your drunk brain isn’t doing well with the concept of you in a locked room with mark. “are you drunk, mark?”

mark laughs at your question, “a little, yeah.”

“okay, good, then can you just-” you lose your balance again and mark steadies you instantly, warm hand on your elbow. you lose your train of thoughts at the feel of him, looking into his eyes wordlessly.

you think you stay there for a minute like that, the two of you just catching up on all the looks you’ve missed out on in the last week.

“why are you mad at me?” you ask the question that’s been bugging you for ages. wanting mark to understand how hurt you’ve been, you pull at the sleeve of shirt, “i’ve been so sad. why are you avoiding me?”

mark takes your hand in his, “no! it’s not like that. i’m… not mad at you.”

“really?” you question him through a pout, “really?”

he doesn’t know what to do when pinned with that gaze of yours in that moment. and then his eyes land up on your lips, your little pout.

he knew the alcohol was a bad idea because now he can’t think straight, knowing he has to explain everything to you or he might lose it all. but somehow, instead of words, he feels another ugre crawl up his skin.

just as you open your mouth to speak, you feel mark’s lips on yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. you gasp into his mouth, and he pulls away just as soon as he leaned in. he drops your hand, falling to his knees.

it takes you a moment to re-orient yourself after the taste of mark in your mouth, but you hear mark sniffle and instantly join him on the ground, hands on his face.

“are you crying?”

mark tries to stop himself but he can’t. “i’m sorry, y/n. i’m so sorry.”

“hey,” you find yourself sobering up. how could you not when mark lee is in front of you, tears staining his ever-smiling face? “hey, mark, look at me.” he wipes at his face shakily, looking up at you through a fresh flood of tears.

“i’m sorry,” his voice breaks, “i’ve been acting so selfish with you. i shouldn’t have avoided you. i shouldn’t have kissed you. i’m.. it’s all because…” he trails off conveniently at the part of his sentence you most need to hear.

your fingers trail down to his chin, bringing his face back up, “it’s all because of what, mark? talk to me, baby.”

something in mark uncoils when you coo at him lovingly like that, his name as breathy as the nickname you suddenly throw at him. his lip quivers but his words are clear as day, “fuck, i’m into you, y/n. i know i’m just some guy really but i think i like you. i- like romantically, i’m dying to be with you.” he sighs when you don’t say anything, stunned into silence.

your hand stays put on his face though which mark thinks of as a good sign. gingerly, he takes your hand, gaze pointed at your interlocked fingers. “i know it’s awkward because you’re not into me like that. it’s all good, i understand.”

“mark, you’re drunk,” you finally mumble out, hand twitching in disbelief. “you’re just saying things.”

mark stiffens, “w-what? no! i’m serious, y/n. i’m not even that drunk anymore. how could i be, when you’re right here?” but then, he stirs, hands leaving yours, “oh, but if you’d rather forget that this happened—”

it’s a replay of five minutes ago, except this time your lips come crashing into mark’s, with so much force that you topple him over. he takes you with him, hand finding purchase at your waist as he pulls you on top of him, his back hitting the door of the bathroom.

your kiss is fierce, almost angry because you did not deserve to be kept in the dark about mark’s feelings. you push closer to him, making him groan into your lips at the intensity. you pull away then, hand at mark’s chest, “i hate you for avoiding me like that, mark. i can’t believe you.”

mark tries to explain himself but you’re kissing him again, swallowing his words whole, unforgiving in the way your hands grip his arms. again, you pull away, “what did you think? that i’d stop talking to you because you like me? you’re so stupid sometimes, mark.”

“i don’t—”

“no, you don’t understand. do you see me right now?” mark nods, eyes trailing at your disheveled state. mark couldn’t forget this sight if he wanted to: your hair wet with sweat, panting in between mark’s legs, lips a breath away.

“do i look like i hate you?”

“i mean, you do look annoyed,” mark remarks and you slap his arm with a snarl.

“that’s because you’re being unfair. what about my feelings for you, huh?” you challenge with a glare. “what about how much i suffered just because you decided to not show up to the bookstore? all because you came to some stupid conclusion by yourself?”

“wait,” mark starts, but you’re not letting him talk.

“no, listen, if i could, i’d seriously slap you. because i’m that down bad for you, mark! i’ve been thinking about doing this with you ever since you fell asleep in my bed that day. so fuck you, for hurting me like that.”

you’re breathless, eyes still trained on mark with that look of betrayal mixed with desire. you can’t help yourself though, mark looks absolutely breath-taking in front of you, mouth ajar in shock, lips red from your relentless kisses.

mark takes too long to process your words just then, long enough that you’re coming down from your high, embarassment flooding your veins. you go cold, standing up with a grunt. “i’m just gonna go back,” you mutter in disappointment, leaving before you can see mark’s response.

he’s coming back to his senses now, realizing that maybe you were right about how stupid he’d been. “fuck,” he breathes out, regaining his footing as he chases after you.

this chase proves to be difficult, given that the party only seems to have gotten more crowded since mark left. he struggles through the throngs of people, shouldering through, when he spots a silhouette of you in his peripheral vision. you were outside, apparently talking to another taller figure.

mark follows your shadow to the door, quickly making his way out. his breath hitches when he finds taeyong next to you. his arm is around your shoulder and you’re speaking to him in a low voice.

“y/n,” mark calls out, not hesitating to break taeyong’s hold on you, replacing it with his own embrace. he pulls you close. your eyes are teary and you sniff when you see mark, “what-”

“i’m sorry, can we talk?” he mumbles into your side, still aware of taeyong’s presence.

“oh, hey, mark. i was just,” taeyong moves to stand in front of the two of you, “taking care of y/n. she looked sick.”

“i’m fine, taeyong,” you reassure him, pressing yourself into mark’s side. “i’ll let mark walk me home. good night.” mark is impressed at how easily you dismiss taeyong, pulling mark after you.

“what do you want?”

mark stops you from walking, pulling you into a hug instead. “you’re right, i’m really stupid. let me ask you this instead: would you let me be your boyfriend?”

you release a soft laugh against his neck at his question, arms still for a moment for dramatic effect. then, you wrap yourself around him, kissing your answer into his ear, “of course, you idiot.”

—

[tomahawk-swing]

@fluttterbeat  ||   [x]

Was that a stubborn move?  Yes.  Was it also a stupid one?  Yes.  But was that something that they needed to do?  Absolutely.  However, there was only so much a tiny orb with wings could do in such a situation.  It only took a few moments for Beat to be knocked back into the hard cold ground below, sending them into temporary darkness.  

It took a short while until they were lulled from their sudden shutdown from gentle, swaying movements. Trying to take a moment to figure the situation they were in, they tried to flap their wings out; only to realize they were in somebody’s arms.  Was it Rock?  No, no. It it were him they’d be able to tell in a heartbeat.  Regardless it was warm and comforting, almost just like home.

They softly moved their metal wings and a weak caw followed.  Then a few more came after, in a mixed tone of annoyance and gratitude.

Were those words of a tiny bird pretending to still tough out the pain, annoyed at being carried, or simply just thanks?  Only Beat themself would know, but one thing was for certain－  they were at least thankful for his intervention to calmly be held in his arms.

Dingo’s curry deliveries always took him on interesting paths. Granted, the fact that he absolutely refused to look at a map didn’t help the restaurant’s business, but it gave his repetitive job an adventurous flavor. 

This time, it made no doubt that he was lost. Unless his customer lived in the middle of the forest, he couldn’t possibly be on the “right” path. True to his own words, Dingo kept on making his own path, until a shiny object caught his attention.

“A bird ...?” Dingo mused to himself. It seemed too elaborate to be a toy, but it was definitely made of metal. Was it some kind of prototype that had escaped from its laboratory ? It looked pretty beat up, almost as if it had been in some kind of fight.

In any case, Dingo couldn’t leave it to rust. He cradled the robotic bird in his arms, before he reached for his delivery box again. The customer would have to wait.

He had only been walking for a few minutes when the bird stirred awake. Dingo stopped so he could drop the box, and glance down at the little robot.

“You okay there, buddy ?” There was genuine concern in his voice. “How d’you end up here ? Can you still fly ?”

[vexelier-suix-cipher]

"Could you do Teruteru, Hifumi, and Ryoma getting drugged by a love potion and falls (even harder) for the reader (who has already fallen for them)?"

100% I can!! :D

Warnings: Mentions of love drug/potion, slight obsession(?), and swearing.

===

Hifumi Yamada

•Proceeds to rant about how amazing Hifumi is

•Fanfic boy loves you very much!! (Though he did his best to hide it)

•It felt like when a cat loved it owner. Celeste went out the window. This man would get on his hands and knees for you. 🙇🏽‍♂️

•You also loved him very much!! (Literally Taka had to keep Mondo from lunging at you two and screaming "JUST DATE ALREADY!!")

•Oh but what's this? A drink on his desk after a hard day of drawing and writing manga?

•Well of course he drank it!! He chugged that drink and felt quite satisfied after.

•And back to work he goes :›

•He had some music on and his script for his next manga, scribbling out the sketches for his newest manga when he felt the sudden urge to go see you.

•It was nothing too new. Could've been he just wanted to show you the script for his manga!! A beta read!

•So Hifumi happily found you and sat you down, showing you the script for his manga!

•He felt a bit- different.

•He felt like he needed to have you in his arms.

•He needed you closer.

•He needed- you.

•The even more clingy behavior continued for a few days.

•Though you didn't mind, you did find it a bit strange.

•Why was he so clingy?

•You already read this script-

•And read that one too-

•Didnt he have things to do?

•He was going to fall behind in his schedule if he continued like this!!

•So when you saw him walking over to you once again, you pulled him to the side and questioned him.

"Hifumi, you've been acting kinda strange these past few days. Are you okay? Don't get me wrong, I love having you by my side but you're going to fall behind in your schedule."

"Well...I don't really know how to explain it. I feel like I've got to be with you all the time!! A-And I'm getting work done!!"

•He huffed and whined for a while longer as you continued asking him things before he got frustrated with himself and finally blurted it out

"Fine!! Fine. I like you, okay? I have for a while a-and I just didn't know how to tell you-...I found this drink on my desk one day and now that I think about it, it could've been one of those love potions that I've been hearing about...could've made my feelings stronger.."

•He started muttering towards the end but you could understand the gist of it.

•You reassured him it was fine and that you accepted his feelings.

•Which was returned with a loud,

"HUH?!? YOU DO?! WHEN- HOW-"

•*Once again has to calm fanfic boy down*

•After calming him down (again) you went over your own feelings.

•He had the brightest smile on his face I swear

•He just couldn't hold back!

•So he picked you up and held you close, hugging you sweetly

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!"

===

Teruteru Hanamura

•AGGRESSIVELY RANTS ABOUT HOW AMAZING HE IS

•Love Potion exists?

•He probably bought it.

•This boy is already so head over heels for you it's absolutely adorable.

•He 100% cooks for you.

•Breakfast? In bed.

•Lunch? Made your favorite food.

•Dinner? You can eat with him! :D

•And his food is just 😩 to die for

•He does his best to tone down the sexual comments a bit, though he can't help if one or two slip out!

•Compliments you every 5 minutes no lie.

•Though he does turn cherry red if you compliment him

•If you allow petnames, he WILL call you darlin' and sugar the most.

•Now for the fun part

•He was most likey cooking and was working with the oven.

•Ovens hot. His clothes are pretty hot.

•So he stripped got something to drink out the fridge

•He blindly took a glass out the fridge and drank it.

•Drank the damn love potion-

•He knew he accidentally drank it. He read the label he had put on the glass right after he drank it.

•Unlike Hifumi, he tried staying away from you

•Poor boy doesn't know how to show such strong feelings :(

•He still does cook for you though

•And leaves you little snacks

•Did yelp when you came into the kitchen once without him knowing (it's true I was the dust on the oven window)

•Alot more fiddly and nervous when he has to go ask you something

•His gaze is towards the floor and he's playing with the ends of his scarf as that adorable accent decorates his speech

•Hes so nervous oh poor baby

•You found him scurrying everywhere once trying to find his hat when you had to point out it was on his head-

•He was so embarrassed-

•He apologized and walked back towards the kitchen

•He cooks his feelings away

•That is alot of food-

•Once he disappeared into the kitchen you went after him

•You had been wondering why he ran away from you every time you saw him

•You were worried :(

•As he went back into the kitchen, he paused hearing someone else's footsteps.

•He turned around and jumped slightly when he saw you

•Begin the anxious southern rambling and questions.

"O-Oh! S/o! What brings you to the...the kitchen??"

"Teru, what's going on? You keep ignoring me."

"W-Well I don' mean to cher' I-Its just I' been kinda stressed lately a-an' I don' wanna bother you with tha'-"

•Oh sweet boy almost cried just talking to you

•He wanted to confess so badly!!

•He just wanted to hug you and bury his face into your neck!!

•But he was so scared :(

•After a good talk, the confession just slipped out of him mid-sentence

"I already apologized cher'..."

"C'mon Teru, what's been REALLY happening with you?"

"W-Well...the truth is I accidentally drank a love potion and since I love you so damn much it strengthened my feelings...I-I didn't wanna make you uncomfortable so I stayed away in case I-"

"Did you just say you love me?"

"I-I did..?"

•Oh certainly he did. And when he realized, he apologized 10x more.

•You had to shut him up by squishing his face

•After a good explanation about you loving him too, he clung onto you with a laugh.

•He sat in your lap (and after some consent) kissed your face all over, muttering a soft 'I love you' after each kiss

•You two sat together like that for quite a bit, just laying in each other's presence

"Thank you so much....you don't know how much that means to me...how much YOU mean to me..."

===

Ryoma Hoshi

•Ah yes. Tiny, edgy, ex-tennis, cat loving, deep voiced boy

•Where do I start?

•Lets start with

•He's absolute shit at feelings.

•Like really.

•He refused to believe he fell for you.

•His heart was racing? No it wasn't. It's probably because he was out of breath.

•He's flustered and blushing? Kinda hot in the room y'know.

•You get the point.

•He hates the fact he fell for you. He doesn't know what to do.

•He lost almost everyone he ever loved before. Why would this be any different? He didn't want to put you in danger.

•Ryoma hanged around with you though. He was a bit quiet but he went basically everywhere you went

•No one really messed with you when little man was with you.

•This was okay. He could hide his feelings. You wouldn't be in danger and he wouldn't ruin his relationship with you.

•Then the world announced a love potion was now available!!

•Ah shit.

•That damn Kokichi.

•All he wanted was some water and that little panta-loving gremlin switched it out with the new potion.

•He had already chugged around half the bottle before he realized it wasn't his juice.

•Ryoma would've just left it at 'Oh I just poured the wrong drink in' if it wasn't for Kokichi coming up to him about an hour later.

"Nishishishi....how's the love potion working Ryoma?"

"The what."

"Oops~"

"You little-"

•Kokichi went to the nurse with a bump on his head from Ryoma hitting him with a tennis ball.

•You thought Teruteru hiding away was bad?

•Ryoma refused to leave his dorm.

•He came out at around lunch time to get food, go to the bathroom, and then back to his dorm.

•No one was allowed in.

•He could feel the effects of the potion working.

•He wanted to get out and cling to you so badly. It almost physically hurt

•Fucking hell-

•Him. Ryoma Hoshi. The guy who basically gave up on life, wanted to run into your arms like a little kid.

•He almost cried.

•Of course you were worried!! He locked himself in his dorm without warning!!

•And he refused to talk to you!!

•You came to his dorm door almost daily, trying to pry open the damn door.

•With no avail.

•Goddammit.

•It wasn't until a few weeks later which he made a plan.

•He'd confess and leave right after.

•If you said no, that would be the end of it.

•If you said yes, ...well he didn't really plan that far.

=

•Ryoma met up with you at the back of the building, looking down at the ground as he heard your footsteps.

•It took a minute of small talk before he started speaking

"Listen, Kokichi switched my drink out a few weeks ago for that new love potion they're selling. I already had really strong feelings for you but with the potion they increased. I know you probably don't feel the same way but I wanted to tell you because it was starting to get too out of hand for me."

•He rambled on a little about how you would never like him and that he apologized for having such feelings and-

•You yanked his beanie down to his face, letting out a small huff.

"Ryoma Hoshi you have no idea how long I've been waiting for you to confess. You're an amazing guy Ryoma, and I really do wish you confessed sooner since I feel the same way. Now shut it with all the sad shit and come here."

•You told him, tugging him closer by the sleeve as you engulfed him in your arms

•Ryoma felt like his face was on fire. Butterflies in his stomach and a giddy, tingly feeling throughout his body

•He let out a low chuckle, hugging you back and sighing softly

•This was nice. He felt....loved.

•He liked this feeling quite a bit....he had missed this feeling quite a bit.

"Maybe I should've confessed sooner."

===

AHHHHHHHH I HOPE YOU LIKED IT-

I absolutely adore these three.

If you want me to add or fix anything just say the word!!

I had a great time writing this!!

Thanks for requesting!!!

-Vex ∆

[funkymbtifiction]

How do you feel about your tritype being 629? Is "Stockholm Syndrome" a bit too much for a nickname? How do you "find yourself" after relating w people so much all the time?

I'm sorry if this comes off as intrusive or rude, I'm just curious. You do a great job on here, thank you so much for your work

Hah. The rude nickname fits, because 269s are too nice for their own good, and wind up tolerating people who aren't worth their time much longer than any other type. We'd be the kind inclined to try and see the good in our "captors" which explains a LOT about the fictional characters I'm drawn to and how I want to understand even the villains and get annoyed if they are two-dimensional.

I don't really lose myself in other people, being a 6 first. It's more that I feel a constant pressure from my ego types (mostly 2) to do nice things for other people that I don't always want to do. Like, this person doesn't interest me much, but they are eager to talk, and going through a hard time, and it makes me feel guilty not to answer them immediately. That sort of thing. I just automatically think about what other people might need or want and include it as a legitimate part of my decision process. But whenever I do this halfheartedly, it's quite obvious that I'm just doing it out of duty.

Like yesterday, I had a chat with my dad in which he said I wind up doing things out of duty a lot, and when it's optional, it's not always required, that sometimes I should just let go of it. I'm not the caretaker of the world, I'm not here to provide unpaid counseling to all my friends, I don't need to be a workaholic all the time, and I shouldn't feel guilt for doing otherwise. But I can't just shut it off, because those things are hard-wired into me. They're an automatic response. You help whether or not you want to. You keep the peace and be polite and considerate of other people's stupidity. And you rationalize away the reasons to rebel as selfishness.

I also struggle a lot with not always knowing what I want -- or maybe I do, but it's just hidden under a 6 core layer of self-doubt and 9 fixed confusion, like instead of feeling my feelings, I think about my feelings and come up with rational explanations for my feelings. I try to "figure them out" rather than just going inward to sit with them. I look for some sort of explanation for them, when they make no sense to me. AKA, I parted amicably from this person a year ago and now I'm feeling lonely and wondering if I made the right choice, but this can't be just missing them, it's taken too long, is this my 7 wing missing the FUN we had instead of THEM as a person?? That sets off a spiral of THOUGHTS that slips me out of my emotions. I constantly distance myself from emotions to choose to do the rational thing, or the mature thing, or the responsible thing, or the right thing, and they become my focus more than "what I want/what I feel." It probably comes from the double 1 wings, but I'm one of the most dutiful people you will ever meet, and I feel somewhat resentful of the fact that I can't ever slip out of it and just be irresponsible, just abandon things when I lose interest in them, just be selfish without feeling guilt, just make mistakes without berating myself for them, just assume someone else is the problem when things go wrong instead of blaming myself first, etc.

That's where the nickname comes in, because instead of writing ex's off as assholes, 269s continue agonizing for months over "what I did wrong." They are looking for explanations for others' behaviors, they are trying to think the best of them, they are angry about the times their 9 said nothing instead of making a scene or being directly confrontational, they are thinking about the mistakes they made and beating themselves up about it, and they are endlessly cycling through this like a loop that won't shut off, because 6 and 9 play off each other to create a haze of doubting whatever conclusions 6 just came up with, but 6 needs to understand EVERYTHING intellectually, rather than just having a feeling. Feelings you can't trust. Feelings lead you astray. You have to be smart. Logical. Rational. Look for reasons. Explanations. It's exhausting being me.

Me being a 692 is probably the most over-thinking combination of this type, a 269 would be less amenable and a 962 wouldn't over-think to this extent. But your tritype is a public broadcast of everything that's messy and annoying about yourself. Once you really understand what it's doing to you on a daily basis, and how it's controlling you through your automatic reactions, it's less fun to put it on your profile, because just looking at it makes you cringe. "Stockholm Syndrome" is very apt, because it really slaps you across the face with what you're doing that isn't good for you, as reminder to be less passively accepting.

You can't trust an over-positive description of the tritype, because Enneagram doesn't exist to flatter your ego and make you brag about being X, it exists to tear it apart and force you to face yourself. Only when you feel the "deep cringe" can you start working on it.

[khaotic-kitsunes]

Travelling Alpha

This was originally gonna be headcanons but then, uhhh...I was writing them and um, I got carried away and since the headcanons read similar to a scenario I just went through them and wrote it out like a scenario properly.

But yay??? This is yet another request off my list completed and my progress is going fantastically! I’m actually super happy about that if you couldn’t already tell haha

Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, I had a lot of fun writing it and it was different to what I usually write, which made it super fun! Have yourself a great day, be sure to let me know what you think!

🥃 AO3 🥃 || ✉️My Askbox✉️ || 💬Discord💬

Cheeky Kitsune 🦊💋

.

 Eijiro let out a low groan as he stretched his arms up above his head, sore from the uncomfortable way he had slept the night prior; it had been exactly half a year since he had left his old pack so that he could travel and see the world. Six long months of nothing but himself and the wilderness, but after coming from a busy pack life and caring for everyone as the pack’s Alpha; it was a hard adjustment to make.

 One positive that he could list was that he found himself more relaxed since leaving. There weren’t as many things to stress and worry over, the things that he did need to worry about were easily solved; simple things like food, water and shelter.

 Another would be that like today, he could wander around with little to no care about where he was going or where he would end up at the end of the day; Eijiro could simply enjoy his surroundings. The fresh scent of the surrounding forests, the cool Spring breeze that washed over him every now and then; the peaceful sound of the wildlife going about their day.

 He could enjoy every moment of it without worrying about anything other than himself and that was something he wouldn’t trade away, not unless he had a good reason to. This was the kind of lifestyle he could get used to if given enough time.

 Eijiro turned his head to the side as he stopped walking, picking up a sound that he hadn’t heard for a long time; the sound of crying. Soft sniffling and hiccups, a sound that no decent Alpha ever took pleasure in hearing.

 Which meant that he would have to investigate it, even if he had been enjoying his morning journey.

 .

 “Hello?”

 .

 Eijiro called out curiously, grumbling to himself when there was no reply before moving to follow after the sounds of sobbing slowly; not wanting to startle whoever he might find.

 He found you relatively quickly, discovering you hidden amongst the large roots of an old tree; your sobbing so much louder now that he was standing so close to you, the sound making his chest ache with empathy for you.

 “Miss…?” Eijiro moved closer as he spoke quietly, crouching in front of you and causing you to jolt in surprise; wide, teary gaze meeting his own concerned stare. He knew that he shouldn’t have approached you like that, without making you aware of him before he moved closer; but it was always harder to resist his instincts on the day of a full moon.

 Eijiro would shift the moment the sun went down, but for now, he had to make do with any actions he made based on instinct alone.

 “W-Who are you?”

 .

 “Eijiro Kirishima…miss, what’s wrong? Why are you crying out here alone? Who are you?”

 .

 He frowned when you averted your gaze, curling up to make yourself look smaller than you already did; it was a bad sign in his eyes. Then again, finding such a beautiful woman out in the wild alone without anyone around was a bad sign in general; packs would usually send people out in pairs, for safety.

 “…I didn’t wanna be his mate…so I was rejected from my pack, they kicked me out…all because of him…” Your whimpered out words had his blood run cold, eyes widening in shock despite only having a brief explanation of your situation; though it was hard not to be shocked. To be kicked out because you had rejected someone was ridiculous.

 “…What’s your name?” He repeated a part of his question, using a gentle tone with you so that he wouldn’t upset you more than you already were; even doing his best not to reach out and comfort you as his instincts were calling for.

 “(Name).” He nodded slowly at your response before standing back up to his feet and taking a few steps away from you, giving you the space that he thought you might need; brushing himself off of the dirt that had somehow managed to get on him.

 “Well (Name), how would you like to travel with me? I haven’t got a pack at the moment either, so having you around would be great!”

 .

 ~ ~  ~  ~  ~

 .

 You let out a soft whine of effort as you rolled onto your back, stretching out and arching your back; feeling the way your muscles trembled from the action, any soreness you felt from the previous night fading away for a few blissful seconds.

 “Mornin’ beautiful” Eijiro’s deep greeting made you smile as you rolled back over, colliding with his muscled chest and causing his arms to snake around your waist immediately; holding you close to his warm body, showering your neck with feather-light kisses.

 “Isn’t it a bit early to start with the compliments Eiji?” You shuddered as you spoke, letting your head lull to the side while he snickered in response to your question; nipping over the bonding mark he had left on you the night prior during the full moon.

 Funnily enough, yesterday had been a full year since you met the protective Alpha that you now called your partner; and you had loved the way you had celebrated it with him.

 “It’s never too early to start telling the truth (Name)” You rolled your eyes at his words, rolling in his embrace to face him; pressing your lips up against his own. Anything to stop his teasing touches to the still-sensitive bonding mark.

 “Uh-huh…whatever you say” You hummed softly, pulling away from the kiss and letting out a quiet giggle when his head followed after you, eager to continue the morning greeting that you had given him. Though you had other plans.

 “Come back here…” Eijiro trailed off into a playful growl as you managed to escape his hold, quickly moving about to gather the clothes that you had thrown everywhere the previous night right before sunset; the easiest way to avoid having them shredded to absolute bits.

 “Don’t even think about it. That can wait until tonight…didn’t you say you had somewhere you wanted to take us?” You glanced down at Eijiro, pulling your clothes on leisurely while he watched your every move; making no move to hide the hunger in his crimson gaze, sending shivers down your spine.

 “Yeah…right, now that you mention it” Eijiro paused, sitting up with a quiet groan, reaching back to rub at his sore muscles before getting up to his feet; approaching you despite still being naked himself.

 “What would you say if I said I wanted to take us back to my old pack” You frowned at his words, tilting your head to the side while you allowed him to wrap his arms around you; an innocent enough embrace for the moment.

 “Your old pack…? I’m not sure Eiji…” He smiled at your hesitance, leaning down to nuzzle against your neck tenderly, a quiet hum of content building in his chest; causing you to relax almost instantly, enjoying the low rumble.

 “Aw, come on (Name)…let me take you there! I could introduce you to everyone, plus they’re bound to love you. I mean, you did manage to steal the heart of their ex-Alpha and that’s one of the biggest reasons I left”

 .

 “Wait, what? You were…you used to be the Alpha of a pack?”

 .

 Eijiro nodded his head in confirmation at your question, rubbing your hips before moving to get dressed; sensing that it might be a good idea if he were dressed.

 “When were you gonna tell me?” He shrugged in response to your question, glancing back at you while pulling on the pants he had been wearing yesterday; seemingly confused as to why you seemed to be so surprised about his past.

 “Is it important? I’m not that man anymore.” You opened your mouth to respond with a sharp remark before deciding better and closing your mouth, shaking your head to answer his vaguely curious question. Eijiro was right, he wasn’t that man anymore, so theoretically it shouldn’t bother you.

 “No, never mind…alright, fine. I suppose it couldn’t hurt to go see your old pack” You sighed out quietly in defeat, soon letting out a squeal of laughter when Eijiro lifted you up into his hands; spinning around with you. A large grin on his features.

 .

 ~ ~  ~  ~  ~

 .

 “So, you’re the woman my son has fallen for then?”

 .

 You gulped nervously as you stared at Eijiro’s mother with wide eyes, Eijiro himself standing close behind you with his hands on your hips; keeping you in place so that you couldn’t run away from the terrifying woman in front of you.

 “Yes…I um, I suppose that would be me?” You managed a small smile as the rough looking woman continued to stare at you, relaxing only when a kind smile stretched across her crimson stained lips; however, the moment was short lived since his mother reached out and pulled you to her chest.

 She wasted no time with smothering you with her love and adoration, a complete personality swap compared to the stone-faced woman that greeted you when you first arrived with Eijiro a few hours earlier.

 “Don’t crush her mum!” Eijiro laughed heartily as he watched the two of you interact together, moving to sit on the nearby couch since there was no longer any need for him to keep you steady in front of his mother.

 “Oh hush up Eijiro! You’ve been gone for nearly two years and now that you’re home, you’ve brought back this adorable mate! I’m entitled to be a little excited!” His mother’s reasoning had you laughing along with her, soon returning her loving embrace before retreating back towards Eijiro the moment she released you.

 Even if she didn’t scare you anymore, you didn’t want to come out of the visit with broken bones; Eijiro’s side seemed like the safest place to be.

 “I told you I was sorry about that!”

 .

 “And I told you that you weren’t forgiven until you give me grand-babies to cuddle!”

[catboymingi]

confessions

navi/masterlist

pairing: hongjoong x reader

genre: angst, fluff; requested!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: language maybe and some inappropriate behaviour

a/n: uses the member that didn’t debut w them simply because i cannot stand not having a happy ending (so if u wanted a sad ending please lmk!!!) but the plot i had did not allow for a happy ending if i used any other member

Hi!! Can i request a hongjoong angst when he just find out that the reader was had a relationship with other member? (In the past before they we dating)

you hadn’t wanted to hurt hongjoong, ever. that was why you hadn’t told him about your past relationship with junyoung, in the first place. you’d been high school sweethearts that ended on a bad note, and as soon as you saw junyoung hanging with a group of boys that obviously were the friends your boyfriend was so excited for you to meet you knew you couldn’t tell him. you didn’t want to be the reason why he saw his friend in a different light - junyoung having been jealous and possessive over you in high school didn’t have to affect how he treated hongjoong, and you didn’t want it to affect how hongjoong treated him. not even for junyoung’s sake, but because you knew that it would hurt the boy that had quickly become the most important person in your life. you knew he’d feel like he had to pick sides, and you couldn’t do that to him.

it came to bite you in the ass, however, when junyoung was still jealous even though you weren’t a couple anymore, hadn’t seen each other in years. whenever you’d come over to visit hongjoong (who, to your dismay, lived together with your ex and two other friends from the group that you came to like) the man would eye you with a weird expression, and try to catch you alone on your way to the toilet or the kitchen. you soon found yourself trying to avoid coming there altogether, but of course your love noticed, worrying about why you were distancing yourself. and even though you knew junyoung could be vile, at least in high school, you didn’t expect him to be as vile as he was, sowing doubts in his friend’s mind about you looking for someone else. this made your boyfriend worried, because while he trusted you you had undoubtedly been distancing yourself, and there had to be a reason. so he asked you to come over to talk, the tone of his message making it clear to you that it was important to him.

you knew you should have asked him to come to your place instead when your ex opened the door for you, greeting you with an expression that made you fear what was to come.

“hongjoong is in the shower”, he informed you, way too close for your liking, “so why don’t we make up?”

“no.” you couldn’t believe he was even suggesting this. did hongjoong mean nothing to him? their friendship? his feelings?

it didn’t seem so, because he continued: “he won’t have to know. and isn’t he a little too old anyway? he’s going to get boring.”

“we’re over with, junyoung, have been for years. just let it go.”

“but why didn’t you tell your pretty little boyfriend anything, hm? why didn’t you tell him that you used look at me the way you look at him, that you used to tell me all the sweet things you tell him, that you used to be with me before he even mattered? why didn’t you tell him, if not because some deep dark part of you still wants to get back with me?”

you were about to spit in his face, in all honesty, because he disgusted you, his words disgusted you, but the shocked, choked out sound coming from the hallway prevented you. there was hongjoong, who had obviously heard everything junyoung had said, and to him it had to feel like he was right, because you hadn’t told him, you’d kept your past relationship a secret from him, and it didn’t make sense otherwise. you’d always been so honest about all your fears and wishes, or he had, at least, feeling like the two of you could talk about anything. but apparently he’d been mistaken. apparently there had been something to hide from him. and it shocked him, more than the fact that you’d dated his friend in the past.

“hongjoong…”, you tried, but he turned around without saying a word, leaving you staring at the air where he’d just been.

“fuck you”, you hissed out at junyoung, running after your boyfriend because you wanted to make things right, at least try.

“joong?”, you asked, standing in front of his door but scared to enter. “can i come in?”

“why?”, his silent voice came from right in front of you - it sounded like he was standing in front of the door, like he’d collapsed as soon as he’d entered his room, his voice sounding weak with held back sobs.

“because you deserve an apology. and an explanation, if you want.”

“come.”

you stepped in, hesitantly, eyes on the frame right next to the door. he was sitting on the floor, as you’d suspected, face hidden from you. the way he looked so hurt had you wanting to hold him, to comfort him, to be close to him, but he probably didn’t want that right now, so you walked over to his bed and sat down there instead.

“i’m sorry, joong. junyoung and i used to date in high school, and i should have told you right away, you would have deserved this honesty.”

“do you still love him?” he sounded hurt, scared, heartbroken - everything but angry -, and it made your heart ache, made you wish you’d told him right from the start.

“i promise i don’t. i love you, i love you only. i’m sorry, but i promise i don’t.”

“but you didn’t tell me.”

“i didn’t. can i hug you, please? is that okay?”

he hesitated for a moment and you were about to feel your heart break, but then he opened his arms for you and you didn’t waste a single second, hurrying over and holding him tightly.

“i’m sorry, love, i’m sorry for hurting you.”

“why didn’t you say anything? didn’t tell me?” your boyfriend still wasn’t looking at you - he was hiding his tears, you knew he was because he only avoided looking at you when he was embarrassed about crying.

“we didn’t end on good terms, but because it’s been so long ago i didn’t think it would still matter. but i knew that if i’d told you, you’d want to know why we broke up, and of course that’s a normal question to ask! you’d be justified in asking. but i didn’t want you to feel like you’d have to choose between us, i really thought it would be fine.” your hand was in his hair, sometimes patting his head, sometimes combing it with your fingers, just trying to comfort him and let him know you were there.

“it wasn’t fine. you wouldn’t even come over anymore.” and first then did you realise that he’d noticed and that he’d worried and that you’d hurt him, that the secret you’d kept had hurt him. but you still didn’t know whether you could tell him exactly why.

“i couldn’t be around him. i should’ve invited you to come to my place more though. i’m so sorry for hurting you, joong. just know i didn’t want to, even if that doesn’t make it better.”

if possible, you would have pulled him right into your chest, into your physical chest, keeping him in your heart and having him protected by your ribcage like the little organ that always beat faster when you were around him.

“why couldn’t you be around him? what did he do?”

and though junyoung had tried his best to ruin your relationship you still didn’t want to tell hongjoong, didn’t want to feel like you were pitting him against his friend. that’s what he’d done, in high school, one of the reasons why you broke up with him in the first place.

your silence scared the man in your arms, though, finally looking at you with a worried expression.

“did he hurt you?”

“no! no, don’t worry, love, it’s not that. he just… tried to be around me all the time. gave me weird looks. and at some point i felt like yeosang and seonghwa were catching on, except to them it must’ve seemed like we were flirting. i couldn’t stand that. but i shouldn’t have neglected you like that.” and even though you wanted to keep holding him, have him in your arms, you removed your arms from around him in favour of putting your hands on his cheeks, making him look at you as you told him sternly: “you’re the most important person in my life, don’t forget that.”

“i love you” was his reply, which now left you on the verge of crying rather than him. you’d hurt him, you had, and he still loved you. he was too perfect for this world.

“i love you too. angel, baby, love, darling”, pressing a small kiss on his face with every pet name, “i love you. let’s go to bed, okay? it’s more comfortable.” though you in part also just wanted to be able to entirely wrap yourself around him.

the first few minutes of cuddling were spent in silence, but then hongjoong spoke up.

“i think i want junyoung to move out.”

surprised you looked up at his face. he seemed entirely calm, eyes closed, and you weren’t sure what to say. you didn’t want him to have to choose.

“i’ll come over either way, it’s fine”, you tried to reassure, but now he opened his eyes and looked at you on his chest.

“i don’t want him here anymore. i think the others won’t, either, if they know he’s been acting like that.”

“you’ll need a new tenant, joong. don’t rush it, okay? think about it.”

and he seemed to be thinking right in that moment already, brows furrowed as he hummed a little.

“would you want to move in? i know you’ve been looking to move out from the dorms, for a more long-term place, and you’d have your own room so it’s not like you wouldn’t have privacy or anything, and we’ve kind of talked about it before, it’s been jokes but we talked about moving in together. i don’t know?”

his suggestion was a little shocking, but you definitely weren’t opposed. maybe you’d consider it, once he’d thought about it a little more and checked in with his friends, and once you’d thought about it a little longer. you didn’t want to rush it and you weren’t going to rush it, but you did love him with all your heart, and living with him would either be really sweet or, much less likely, show you that you weren’t actually meant for each other.

“i’ll think about it, and you think about it too, okay? and then we’ll see.”

and though it wasn’t a yes it was close to one, close enough for him.

“we’ll see.”

and though he wouldn’t say that he was glad about this situation, and even though he most definitely would have preferred junyoung to not act the way he had, maybe he did owe the guy a ‘thank you’ for having accidentally played wingman.

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part three Word count: ±2700 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part three summary: Two leads point into different directions. Which one are the Winchester brothers going to follow? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result.      Ronny nods satisfied, too. “Good as new.”      They mechanics carefully beat out the small dent in the lid and restored the paint with a polisher. The lock of the trunk took some time to replace, but now it closes perfectly. 

     “Thanks, man,” Dean says gratefully, offering him some money for the work.      “Any time. Put that away. I owe you Winchesters more than that,” Ronny reminds him. “Sure you guys don’t want a beer?”      Dean hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I’d love to catch up, but we should get going. The world isn’t rid of all evil motherfuckers just yet.”      Ronny chuckles at that. “Fair enough. Good to see you again, though.”      “You too. Take care, Ron,” the oldest Winchester brother returns.

     The ex-hunter retreats back into his garage, and Dean glances at the trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. He’s glad he got it fixed. The clunking sound every time they hit a pothole was driving him crazy, and with enough arsenal for a small military operation inside, he wasn’t really keen on leaving it unlocked either. 

     As he takes a look around the abandoned street, he realizes he’s missing the tall individual that usually occupies the passenger’s seat. Where the hell did Sam go? Instinctively, Dean scans the area, uneasiness evident in his stomach, a sensation which arises ever since he was a kid, whenever he loses sight of his little brother. Then he spots him a bit further down the road. He’s on the phone with someone, and for a second he wonders if it’s Zoë he’s having a conversation with.

     Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns away the coolness of the night. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thoughts sneak off. He doesn’t like it one bit, but he can’t help but think of the huntress they crossed paths with a little under a week ago. He may pretend that he doesn’t give a shit, but he has to admit that she has been on his mind more than a couple of times. Not that he likes her, fuck no, but Sullivan left an impression that has him wondering. She has been through more in the twenty-five years that she has walked this earth than most endure in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he deep down cares; he can relate to her.

     Dean exhales, not dwelling too long on the reason behind the intrigue. Instead, he wonders if Sam’s presumption is actually true. The fierce Zoë Sullivan being in deep shit; he can barely picture it. She always seems in control, even when things don't go as planned. She caught him off guard. He, Dean Winchester, can you fuckin’ believe that? The older Winchester sibling rolls his harmed shoulder, testing its mobility. She shot me, for fuck’s sake. 

     Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to expertly know her way around the world of monsters that is their reality. She’s a bright girl, skilled, fast, fearless. She has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But after those last words back in Paragould, he was left with the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she didn’t expect to win. It truly felt like a final goodbye. A disturbing question pops up in his head; did he make a mistake not going after her? The two guys they saved from a werewolf in Waco probably don’t think so. 

     Dean stares ahead, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth while contemplating his choices. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. North is indeed a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson would stand out. It’s a long shot, but if they play this right, they may be able to find her. 

     The matter escapes his mind when he feels his phone vibrating, the buzzing device startling him slightly. Somewhat annoyed by his own reflex, the hunter takes his Motorola and notices the small icon of an envelope in the right upper corner; he has received a text message. It’s probably Erin, his hook up back in Waco, who had to wake up alone this morning. She must be wondering where the man she met in a bar three days prior has gone. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen in shock. 

     At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says ‘Dad’.

     Dean’s heart has picked up speed, now pounding twice as fast than it was seconds ago. Last time he checked, his father’s phone was inactive, and now there’s a message coming in from that number? Different scenarios flash through his mind, not sure if he should prepare for good or bad news. With shaky fingers, he opens the text.

     Job: 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W

     Dean exhales, still staring at his cell. He can’t fucking believe it. John disappeared from the face of the earth, nowhere to be found, and after all this time he sent a few numbers and letters. The older Winchester brother huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t matter, though. Relief frees Dean from the crippling worry that he has tried to stuff down for over a month now, but kept him up at night nonetheless. This text confirms what he’s been hoping for; Dad is alive.

     Thrilled, Dean turns around and glances down the street, noticing Sam, who hastens towards the car. He can’t wait to share the news, knowing they have both been so desperate for a breakthrough. 

     “We’ve gotta go,” they both say at the same time.      “Me first,” Dean demands, childish.      “What are you? Seven?” Sam huffs, raising an eyebrow to match with the sass. Despite his accusation, he counters in the same manner. “What I’ve just heard is bigger.”      “Bigger than this?” Dean brags while flashing a grin, victoriously handing his brother the Motorola.

     Curiosity wins and Sam takes it, attentively reading the message. His eyes narrow, but then his jaw falls open when he realizes who the sender is. John’s youngest son isn’t impressed, though. In fact, what shows on the display infuriates him. 

     “That’s it?” he scoffs, agitated, giving the phone back to his brother. “After a month of silence, that’s what he gives us?”      “Sam, don’t you realize what this means? He’s okay!” Dean brings to mind. “Don’t bitch about this.”      “Just because he’s able to send us a text message, doesn’t mean that he’s okay. We’re not even sure it’s him!” Sam returns bitterly.      “Oh, come on. This is so Dad. One word and coordinates, that’s straight up Marine Corps right there. It’s more convincing than his fuckin’ signature,” the older brother argues.

     “And what the hell are we supposed to do with this? Trust him blindly and do a job he can’t find the time for because he’s hunting whatever the thing is that killed Mom?” Sam assumes, his arms flying up before he lets them come down to his sides again.      “Exactly,” Dean states, matter of factly. “Don’t you see, Sam? This is what I’ve been telling you. He doesn’t want to be found, he wants us to hunt.”

     Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown notebook; it’s John’s journal.      “This book. This is dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He could’ve taken it with him, but he didn’t. He’s passed it on to us.” Dean looks deep into his brother's eyes while he points at the leather bound book that is the representation of the Bible to the Winchesters. “Dad’s journal, the text... Dad is telling us he wants us to do what we were trained for.”

     “You know what I want? I want to find him,” Sam returns determined, handing back the phone.      “And how the fuck were you planning to achieve that, huh?” Dean returns.      “I don’t need a plan, I already know where he is,” the younger brother states.

     Puzzled, Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. There has been zero contact between their old man and Sam for years,  and now all of a sudden he has figured out where John is at?      “How?” he questions, suspicion rising.      “I just received a call. He’s in Tennessee. In Nashville to be precise,” his sibling states.      Dean frowns. “A call? From who?”

     The shrug of Sam’s shoulders is nonchalant. “I think she might be a hunter or something.”      “She? Does this mystery lady have a name?” Dean questions further, trying to get details while frustration bubbles in his chest, triggered by his brother’s short answers.      “She didn’t give it, but it doesn’t matter. We’re going to Tennessee,” Sam decides.

     Dean laughs out loud, dropping the journal on the passenger’s seat before he turns away. Then he returns to glare at Sam as if he just made a joke.      “You wanna go to fucking Nashville based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a fucking trap, Sam!” Dean shouts, indignant.      But his sibling is determined. “I don’t care. If he’s there, I’m going.” 

     Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to stare into the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. 

     “Dad has given us an order,” he growls, his words spoken in a low tone.      “I said: I. don’t. care,” Sam battles him.      “Well I do, you stubborn dumbass!” Dean counters with a raised voice. “What you are planning to do is fucking dangerous! Dad doesn’t want you on his tail, you’ll blow his cover!”

     “You’re calling me a dumbass?! Dad is after an incredibly powerful monster by himself, alone! He’s the dumbass for not accepting our help! We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I’m not going to lose him too. I want answers, I want a piece of that son of a bitch that ruined our lives and I want it right fucking now! If Dad doesn’t want me there, that’s his problem!” Sam shouts angrily.

     “You’re going against him?” Dean isn’t impressed with the outbreak, and slightly shakes his head. “Oh right, I forgot. That’s what you always do; the exact opposite of what he asks!”  he continues cynically.      “He doesn’t ask. He orders,” his brother corrects. “And you follow those orders like a fucking lapdog.”      “It doesn’t matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He’s our God damn father, so you better suck it up and fucking LISTEN!!!”

     Dean is sure one of Ronny’s neighbors is going to emerge from one of the houses, telling them to shut up and take this argument elsewhere, instead of fighting it out in the middle of the street. He doesn’t care, however. His little brother has forgotten his place, and he needs to set him straight.

     “I do whatever the hell he tells me to do because I trust him, because I respect him, which is something I’m gonna strongly advise you to do as well, because your attitude fucking stinks,” Dean lectures, his moss green eyes penetrating, fire burning in his irises. “Now get in the fucking car, because we’re going to drive to wherever those coordinates lead us to.”

     Puffing his chest while straightening his back to make himself seem even taller, Sam crosses his arms. His older sibling might think he has all the authority, but he’s not a little kid anymore who he can boss around. Those days are long gone. He thought his departure to Stanford taught Dean a lesson or two, but apparently he needs to remind his brother that he plays by his own rules, and no one else's.      “I’m not going with you,” he decides, standing his ground.

     For a moment, Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to reconsider that conclusion, but Sam doesn’t even blink. Their gazes battle, the air between them almost too thick to breathe, rivalry carving a deep canyon between the two.      “I’m gonna give you a choice,” Dean snarls. “You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go fuck yourself.”

     Sam gulps, but stands his ground. His facial expression doesn’t change as he steps back, away from his brother, and heads over to the back of the Impala without breaking eye contact, until he opens the trunk to grab his duffel. The glare Dean receives when he slams the lid closed says enough; he’s not coming along for the ride. 

     Stunned, Dean stares at him and huffs in disbelief. Un-fucking-believable. He has always known Sam was stubborn, but now he takes the cake. Disappointed, the older brother shakes his head. This is the second time Sam has chosen a different path and leaves him without even batting an eye, but it scares Dean just as much as when he left and went to college. He’s not alright with what he’s about to do, but he can’t give in. He has to listen to his father.      Frustratingly, he pulls open the door of the Impala. “Goodbye, Sam.”

     Trying to hide his unpleasant surprise, the man left in the road watches him. He didn’t expect this, Dean taking off without him, but then again, how could he not expect a soldier to follow orders from his general? It doesn’t change anything, though. He is dead set on investigating this lead and finding his father.

     The man who is about to put a distance between himself and the one person he swore to never part with again, glances in the rearview mirror. He wishes he hadn’t, because the coldness in Sam’s hazel eyes seems foreign, yet familiar. As Dean starts the engine, he realizes he is either having a major deja-vu, or is reliving one of the worst days of his life. Despite the painful pressure that’s building in his chest and the panic that floods his brain, he lowers his right foot on the gas pedal, and the car rolls away. He doesn’t drive off as fast as he normally would, because he’s fighting the urge to turn around. Pained, he glances in his mirror again.      “C’mon, Sam. Move,” he begs.

     But Sam doesn’t even lift a finger, and he remains in the exact same spot. Then he does move, but not in the way Dean hoped. His little brother turns his back on him and heads towards downtown Hillsboro, in the opposite direction.

With a deep sigh, Dean shakes his head, clamping his left hand around the wheel until his knuckles turn white.       “Stubborn bastard,” he sighs.

     His jaw clenches, as West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn’t notice the scenery. His conscience is fighting his heart. He wants to hit the brakes and pull the car into a 180° so badly, but he has to listen to his father. Never in his life has Dean done anything else than that, disobedience not being a word one could find in his dictionary. Yet in this situation, both of the options are pitfalls. It doesn’t matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Because the one line that his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him. 

     Take care of Sammy. 

     He grinds his teeth, but continues to drive further and further away, his upbringing leaving him no choice. The hunter has made his decision; he’s going to find the location of those coordinates and do the job his Dad has given him. He knows what he’s doing, he’s just hoping Sam does too, because if something happens to his little brother, Dean knows he will never be able to forgive himself.

Well, shit. The boys have gone separate ways. Who do you think will find what he’s looking for?

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part four here

[fairfowl]

Dress For the Weather (ch 1)

Diego has a long history of taking care of Klaus, at this point it might as well be an instinct. Klaus and Diego take a walk, and take care of each other in their own way

Klaus had never been one to dress for the weather. 

Diego distinctly remembered picking his brother up from a bus station in January, only to find him standing in the snow, smoking and wearing a tank top and hotpants.

They had been twenty two years old, and Diego remembered wondering aloud how Klaus hadn’t died of hypothermia yet—Klaus had simply shivered in the passenger’s seat of Diego’s car, and asked if Diego wanted a puff of his cigarette. 

So when Klaus and Allison burst into the Academy soaking wet and carrying groceries on April 4th 2019 Diego wasn’t at all surprised to see that Klaus had elected to wear a sleeveless shirt, or that he was shivering.

At least this time he was wearing shoes. 

When they’d all left the academy (run away) Diego had been the one who’d kept tabs on Klaus, who’d had some vague idea of where he was during those first two years of spiraling drug addiction and homelessness. He’d encouraged his brother to sleep at his apartment—which at that time had been a moldy hole-in-the-wall with a half-bathroom and no stove—and given Klaus food every time that they ran into one another.

Diego had been struggling too, but for all that Luther went on about family and responsibility, Diego had been the one who really felt that being a family meant responsibility. 

He was the one who felt that family meant loving each other, and that the duty love entailed was trying to help one another. 

Out of the seven (six) (five) of them he’d been the only one to think so. 

Eventually he’d become worn out. Klaus was more stubborn than of them had ever given him credit for, and even more self-destructive than they could have imagined. After being called time after time to pick his brother up from emergency rooms, or worse, police stations, with no improvement and ever worsening-shadows beneath Klaus’s eyes Diego finally had enough.

He’d tried to be calm yet firm as he’d told Klaus to take him off of his emergency contact list, but when Klaus had started crying Diego had started yelling.

And Klaus had still called him, still listed Diego as his only family, his only living connection to the world. 

Eventually Diego had gotten rid of his cell phone entirely. He’d claimed that he didn’t need it and that the monthly bill was a waste of resources.

He saw Klaus less and less after that. 

Still in those early years he’d been the one to learn his brother’s bad habits, the one to wrap him in blankets and wipe blood from his face. He’d been the one to offer a shower and a bag of frozen (and refrozen) (and refrozen again) peas to put on his bruises. In the cold light of morning Diego had been the one to glance down alleys as he walked to work, the one to keep gatorade and dinosaur egg instant oatmeal in his cupboards to ply Klaus with after he’d picked him up from the hospital. 

Those days were long gone, and the habits mostly broken (his and Klaus’s) but some things had been repeated to the point of instinct. As Allison walked away to put away the groceries Diego had listened to Klaus’s teeth chatter and unthinkingly pulled his brother by the hand up the stairs. 

“Why are you soaking wet dude? What the hell?”

“Allie was holding the groceries, so I held the umbrella.” Usually when Klaus was high Diego was able to tell, not through some fantastic brotherly instinct, but via a series of cues. He might not have been able to tell when a random person was sober or not, but Klaus had his own specific tells and Diego had eventually learned to look for them. Blown pupils, oddly calm demeanor, steady hands, and a light slurring voice—he’d always favored downers, saving his use of stimulants for parties and other special occasions. Even when he’d been on a relatively low dose of whatever poison he’d put into his body, Klaus’ voice had always gained a sort of floaty ungrounded quality. 

So at that moment, even though his words were flippant and overly cheerful Diego comforted himself with the reassurance that Klaus was still sober. He was just weird like that.

“And you didn’t hold the umbrella over your head too?” 

“There wasn’t room, I didn’t want the groceries to get wet.” As though that was a reasonable explanation for his actions. Really Diego shouldn’t have expected anything else.

It was just like Klaus.

If he'd been left to his own devices Diego wondered if his brother would have even thought of drying off or getting into clean clothes. Klaus was good at surviving, but sometimes neglected his own comfort as if the thought didn't even occur to him. Usually he would eventually seek our food or warmth, but only after sitting around and muttering to himself for a while. 

Now that Ben was well and truly gone Diego wondered how often Klaus would simply forget to care for himself, he imagined that Ben had been instrumental in Klaus's survival over the twelve years that they'd been on their own. The thought was sobering.

He gripped Klaus's hand tighter as they reached the top of the stairs and led him through the hall, Klaus dripping all the way. As they passed the linen closet Diego grabbed a bath towel and threw it at his shivering brother before shoving him into his bedroom.

"Get yourself dried off before you freeze to death." He slammed the door.

"Diego you're so mean!"

-*-*-*-

At 2:00 am April 5th 2019 Diego heard a knock on his bedroom door.

Diego had always been a night owl, too busy training, practicing his speech, worrying, or prowling the streets looking for crime to fight to bother going to sleep at a reasonable hour. He had never needed much sleep and it was a quirk that had served him well over the years.

When Reginald had been alive he had either sat up in the dark, utilizing whatever light spilled in through the drawn curtains of his window, or crouched under his blankets with a flashlight. Once Diego had moved out he had graduated to leaving the light on and turning it off whenever he felt ready to sleep, and he had relished that freedom. 

Now Reginald was dead, and at 2:00 am in his bedroom at the Umbrella Academy Diego had his lights on.

And there was a knock on his bedroom door.

“Hey Diego, are you awake?” Diego rolled over, shoving his messy cross-stitch under the pillow.

“Yeah?” After a few moments of waiting in silence for the door to open and his brother to barge in Diego sait up, legs swinging over the side of the bed. He walked to the door and peeked through. “What do you want Klaus?”

“I can’t sleep.” And wasn’t that a blast from the past? Diego could remember Klaus whispering that exact phrase through his cracked door before they even had names. When they’d been tiny and afraid, before Klaus had hardened himself, when Diego stuttered out every painful word that crossed his young angry mind.

W-what do you ex-ex-expect me to do about it?

“Yeah? You okay?” Diego watched his brother deflate, the bravado and pizazz of the day giving way to defeated exhaustion in the privacy of night. Diego remembered his brother towering over him and still seeming so so small as he stumbled into Diego's room after a training session with Reginald.

No matter how late he got back Diego was always awake.

And eventually Diego had gotten his growth spurt. 

Klaus was still taller than him, and at times like this he still seemed so small. 

“I’m okay,” Klaus lied, his hand going up to fiddle with the dog tags that still laid around his neck goodbye. “Do you want to go for a walk?”

And that is different. 

Where they were children, here, at the Academy, they would have had to carefully sneak out if they were to leave the building unsupervised. It was the sort of thing that would have taken a week of planning at minimum, and such an opportunity certainly could never be squandered for something as purposeless as a walk. Diego nodded his head and turned to tug his leather jacket on over his sweats. He noticed that Klaus was still wearing day-clothes, although he had at least shed the soaked orange and red ensemble from before. 

This outfit didn’t look very warm, but it had sleeves, and at least the rain had stopped.

-+-+-+-+

Outside the streetlights and neon signs of the city reflected off of the damp pavement. Klaus was surefooted as he led them down the street, dodging puddles and garbage with absentminded grace. Diego followed silently like a shadow.

He wondered if he was filling in for Ben, trailing after Klaus as he wandered the city streets at night. It seemed more likely that he was there as a chaperone, providing unspoken help as his brother continued his efforts to stay sober. 

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Diego sped up until he was walking beside Klaus.

"Where are we going?" He asked, attempting to meet his brother's eyes. For a moment Klaus said nothing, his expression thoughtful.

"Do you think Griddy's still burned down in this timeline?" Klaus’s face was lined with exhaustion, and his long hair obviously needed a wash, but his smile was the same as ever; wry, wide, warm. Griddy’s was a fond memory in a sea of regret and trauma, and Diego was struck by a sudden longing for strong coffee and homemade donuts. 

“I don’t know.” He said, trying to match Klaus’s easy smile. To him it felt forced but Klaus didn’t comment. Around them the wind picked up again and Diego shivered. “Let’s go see.” 

They picked up the pace, walking side by side and hopping over puddles like they were still thirteen. Diego rationalized to himself that he at least looked more dignified now.

Klaus did not.

Cars rushed past them and dark alleyways drew both of their eyes for different reasons, after a few blocks Diego began to think that maybe his brother was watching out for him as much as he was chaperoning and guarding Klaus.

The cool damp air felt good in his lungs, sharp and alive in a way that the heavy dusty air of the Academy didn’t. 

How long would he have stayed up alone and stuck in his own head if Klaus hadn’t knocked on his door? Diego felt alive and present, maybe not happy, but not lost in the way he’d felt for the last few days. He knew that everyone was having a hard time—it was obvious in the tone of Vanya’s newly emotive voice, the worrying of Allison’t hands, Five’s haunted eyes and the hunch of Luther’s solemn shoulders— but he felt the weight of the last six months profoundly. Every time he closed his eyes the familiar walls of his childhood room turned white and padded. 

He saw Lila in every shadow. 

She was out there somewhere and Diego knew that one day he would see her again, she wasn’t the sort of person to just leave things alone.

And in the moment Diego was 30 years old, he had the power to deflect bullets, he’d taken part in a rebellion against his ex-girlfriend’s crazy adoptive mother, he had a family who was still with him despite the hell they’d all been through, he was walking outside the Academy at night without Reginald Hargreeves’s metaphorical ghost hovering over him, he had Klaus by his side, and Diego felt strong.

As it turned down Griddy’s was still standing, but it was closed. 

Diego and Klaus stood in front of the darkened building, just in front of the locked doors. Through the shadowed glass Diego could see every piece of tacky restaurant furniture still intact, but no one was there. -

Fair enough. 

At that point it was just past 3:00 and any sane business person would have closed long ago. Even in the city that never slept the hours between 3:00 and 6:00 were usually fairly quiet, the roar of traffic dulled to a trickle as the last of the bars closed and all that were left were a few greasy all-night restaurants.

“Do you want to get pizza?” Diego suggested, shivering as another damp breeze cut through the fabric of his sweatpants. Klaus didn’t seem cold at all, standing there in the dark in thin fabric without even a jacket. 

“I’m lactose intolerant.” Klaus said.

“Oh right.” They continued to stand in silence, eyes meeting in their reflections against the dark glass of Griddy’s door.

“I know a bagel place that opens in an hour.” Klaus suggested, rocking back on his heels.

The shadows around his eyes looked more dramatic in the darkness of the street. For a moment Diego felt a fleeting fear that if he took his eyes away from his brother Klaus would melt back into some alleyway or around a shadowed corner and Diego would lose him again. 

“Let’s just go home.” Back into the light and the warmth of the academy walls. Mom was most likely resting but their kitchen had been fully stocked that afternoon and between Diego and Klaus they would probably be able to put together a couple of bowls of cereal and maybe some tea.

Diego wondered if Klaus had bought dinosaur egg oatmeal.

He didn’t even know if his brother still liked it. 

Klaus nodded, following after him as he led them back down the street. Under their feet the wet concrete made a gritty sound and Diego could imagine how the puddles were beginning to turn gray and brown as the dirt that coated the sidewalks was pulled up into the water. The dark hid the transition well but it was still happening unseen beneath the soles of their shoes. 

“Can we stop at the convenience store and buy snacks?” Klaus interrupted the murmur of the dozing city with a murmur of his own, and Diego slowed his pace.

“Sure.” 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

By the time that they made it back to academy the streets were blanketed in a thick cold fog, and their hands were clutched around bags full of candies and snacks. Diego once again felt like he was twelve again. Immediately Klaus draped himself over a chair at the kitchen table and poured his bag of junk food out onto the table like a kid who’d just returned from trick-or-treating. 

Diego sat too, but left his bag upright. He pulled out and opened a bag of jerky. 

Across from him Klaus continued to arrange his spoils but opened nothing, apparently content just to see to see and touch his hoard. He slowly turned each item over in his hands as he laid it on the table, scanning the designs on the packaging. 

With the lights on in the kitchen Diego was able to get a good look at this brother for the first time since that afternoon. 

Klaus didn’t really look great. 

The shadows beneath his eyes were still present, deep and purple-ish, and the eyes themselves were glassy. Diego wondered if he’d been crying. It had been hard to tell after Reginald had soundproofed Klaus’s room. 

As Klaus continued to examine his snacks, muttering inaudibly—presumably to himself—Diego watched his brother, noting the bright spots on his otherwise pale cheeks as well as the sheen of sweat that glistened on his forehead. 

It could just be a result of the cold dark weather.

Klaus could potentially be experiencing a withdrawal.

Or he could be running a fever after spending his day running out in the rain.

“Dude, you know you look awful?” Diego said gracelessly, interrupting his brother’s murmured monologue.

“Oh gee thanks Diego.” Klaus replied, rolling his eyes. “You always flatter me so-”

Diego frowned, leaning forward across the table and resting a hand against Klaus’s face. To his credit Klaus barely flinched and recovered well, pausing to look at Diego with a curious expression. 

“I think you’re running a fever.” Diego said, pulling away. It was still possible that Klaus was withdrawing but Diego had seen that happen enough times to know that Klaus would usually be shaking and vomiting by now if that was the case. If he were withdrawing Diego knew that he would also be experiencing the wonders of tachycardia and perhaps dangerously high blood pressure.

“Oh…” Klaus murmured, running his hands over his upper arms slowly. Diego wondered if it was a self-soothing method. “That makes sense.” 

Diego looked at his brother thoughtfully.

“What do you mean?”

“I wasn’t cold.” He replied. Klaus shrugged his shoulders, unwilling to explain beyond that. 

Diego nodded, understanding. They’d spent a solid hour walking the streets in damp frigid weather, and while Diego had been visibly bothered by the temperature Klaus hadn’t complained once. He hadn’t even been shivering. The few times that Diego had seen Klaus run a fever he hadn’t started shaking until things got bad. Now whatever illness he’d managed to contract was still digging its claws into him and Klaus actually felt the heat.

He looked so tired. 

After a beat of silence Diego stood, straightening before pushing Klaus’s collection of junk food back into the plastic bag from which it came. It was easy enough to ignore Klaus whining as he circled the kitchen table to stand in front of his brother. 

“Klaus you should go lay down.” 

The two brothers stared at each other, allowing a beat of silence between them. After a moment Klaus flicked his eyes into the corner of the room, and Diego wondered who he was seeing there. As children he’d sometimes mentioned women in the kitchen, women with aprons and crushed skulls. 

Broken necks.

“I don’t want to.” Klaus said finally, picking at his cuticles as he spoke, eyes resting anywhere but on Diego. He had the same look as he’d had at Diego’s door two hours ago, the one that still made him seem so so small.

It was a sharp contrast to his usual larger-than-life personality. 

Without Ben it was probably just Klaus and his ghosts both literal and figurative. Or maybe it was just Klaus. 

Diego wondered which alternative Klaus considered to be worse.

“Come hang out in my room then.” Diego suggested “You can chill on the bed, I was working on something up there anyway.” 

Klaus looked unconvinced. 

“C-come on. I’m not sleeping either way.”

[sundaywonder]

the lost song : yoonmin

Getting ready to start fresh in life, physical education professor Park Jimin is just waiting to migrate to Australia with his daughter and girlfriend. Everything gets topsy-turvy when world-class music producer Min Yoongi—and also his secret ex-boyfriend—comes back home to South Korea to marry his it-girl fiancé. If that wasn’t bad enough for Jimin, Yoongi invites him to the wedding. It gets worse; it leaves him no choice but accept it to avoid spilling the beans.

Although the worst happened back then, it’s not enough for their forsaken what-ifs and unsaid feelings from making itself clear. The situation makes Jimin realize how jaded he was without Yoongi all the years they were apart—and vice versa. As they slowly pick up the broken pieces of the past, reality hits hard back at them again. There are two choices: to give up on love and live in the present or to run away and never look back.

Genre: Romance, Adult Fiction, Melodrama, Erotica

Fandom: BTS, BLACKPINK, Red Velvet, IU

Pairing: Suga & Jimin, Jimin & Rosé, Suga & Jennie, IU & Jungkook, Wendy & j-hope

Rating: M or R-18 — contains sensitive themes, strong language and graphic depiction of sexual activity

Status: Ongoing — 6/12

Link: Wattpad, ao3

Excerpt: The Flower Bloomed — 10 Years Ago

Yoongi, 20

I hurriedly go down the stairs while vigorously drying my head with a towel. I knew I would oversleep. Aside from being a deep sleeper, I’m also not used to waking up as early as 7 a.m. Nine is still pretty early if you’d ask me. The cool air last night made everything even worse. I shouldn’t have opened the windows.

Good thing my grandma heard Aunt Hyeja yelling outside our house. If she didn’t, I wouldn’t have even noticed that her and our other neighbors’ missed calls and text messages.

“Make sure none of the kids get injured, okay? We don’t have money for their hospital bills if ever,” reminds grandma as she followed me down. I don’t hear and comprehend what she said until five seconds later.

“Got it. Bye.” When I get out of our gate, I immediately see Aunt Hyeja who was waiting for me outside.

“We’ll get going, Auntie Dooshim!” exclaims Aunt Hyeja.

“Alright, have a safe trip!”

“I’m so sorry, Auntie. I really am.” She walks so briskly that I have a hard time catching up with her. Regardless, I feel like that’s how should it be; I must walk maybe two or three steps behind her after what I’ve done.

“Don’t think about it anymore. The kids are already in there. You know our numbers so contact us immediately if anything goes wrong. There’s a ton of food on the table so feed yourselves when you get hungry. Don’t leave at least one of them unattended. Never attend to the gate if it’s a stranger and refrain from telling them that an adult is not present—oh, how old are you again?”

“Twenty.”

“My bad. It slipped my mind that you’re already an adult. Anyway, did you understand everything clearly?” I just nod. Aunt Hyeja doesn’t seem to be mad but it’s fairly obvious that she’s already dying to leave. I discreetly peek at her watch which says 7:15 a.m. I can’t help but shake my head. I reminded myself endless times to do well in this babysitting gig but I still ended up ruining the first thing about it. There must be something really wrong with me.

After arriving in front of the home of my best friends, brothers Seokjin and Taehyung, she tells me, “Also, your Aunt Misun told me that Jimin won’t be able to attend the excursion because he’s sick. He’s going to be home alone today so I told him that he can contact you if he needs anything.”

I gulped as soon as I heard Jimin’s name and forced myself to act nonchalant. “W-what happened to him?” It was definitely hard to do so.

“He has fever,” she replied. “Don’t you guys get more written projects in lieu of not attending out-of-the-classroom activities?”

“Yes.”

“So, does it mean you like completing paperworks instead of attending trips and such?” I just let out a fake chuckle and nodded. I’m sure it wouldn’t sit with her when I say that I don’t like socializing and going to places with a lot of people. Aunt Hyeja is a social butterfly and—I don’t want to sound like I’m judging her (but maybe I am)—she’s not exactly the type of person to bother understand things deeper if it doesn’t concern her. Besides, it’s lengthy and we’re not that close for me to open up to her. An awkward giggle is probably better than an explanation.

The Kims already left when I entered and all the four kids were sleeping on the sofa in the living room, not even noticing my entrance. I decide to just sit on the floor and watch TV in low volume. My body is asking for me to sleep so badly that pinching myself isn’t working anymore. A faint regret is starting to form in my chest but I cut it out immediately.

After getting bored of the morning makjang drama that I forced myself to watch, I turn around to check on them. Jingoo—a cousin of Seokjin and Taehyung, as well as Namjoon who is also a cousin of the two—is already up but still lying on his stomach while silently watching the drama with me. Our eyes meet but he doesn’t say a word and just shifts his eyes back at the screen.

“Have you eaten breakfast yet?” I ask. Jingoo just nods. “What did you eat?”

“Seaweed rice balls and jeon.”

“Tell me when you’re hungry.” He just nods once again.

Our conversation awakens Taejoon, Chanbin and Yeongyu. Unlike Jingoo, they wanted to eat so I prepared the food that was left for us. Being alone with these kids who I barely know suddenly makes me feel weird for some reason. It’s probably because I don’t have any experience in babysitting. So far, it’s an alright deal. The money is good and you practically get paid to stay at home.

I leave them and go back to the living room, sitting beside Jingoo’s feet who hasn’t moved an inch ever since he woke up. “Where did they go?” He asks, not moving his eyes from the screen.

“A trip.”

“Event aunt and uncle? I thought it was a school trip.”

I let out a sigh and close my eyes. Some sort of hot energy constantly forms in my head the longer I talk to this kid.  “I don’t know why. Ask them when they come back later.”

It got rowdy when they started to play. This is way worse than I imagined. Toy cars and guns are all over the place and I need to remind them every two to three minutes that they shouldn’t be shooting bullets on the TV screen, as well as the vases and figurines. None of my words seem to get to their tiny heads.

I take back what I said. I don’t want to this ever again. I wasn’t like this when I was a kid. Even my friends. We weren’t anything like this. Not even close. We were well-liked by the neighborhood in general because of that.

Out of the blue, my phone suddenly vibrated. My heart almost dropped on the floor when I read Jimin’s name on the screen.

[JIMIN :)

1 NEW MESSAGE]

All of a sudden, my heart started to pound like it wanted to get out of my chest. I took a deep breath before flipping my phone and pressing View.

[JIMIN :)

Hey, can I go there? It’s getting a little boring here.]

[ME (draft)

Of course! Bring what you need!]

I delete it before I could even think twice. I cringed at what I just typed.

[ME (draft)

Okay, but it’s a little loud here]

Maybe not. He might end up not going if I say that.

[ME

Sure]

[JIMIN :)

I’ll bring ramen]

[ME (draft)

Okay]

I press the end call button and just fold my phone instead. I immediately go to the bathroom and wash my face with soap and water. I run my wet hands through my hair as well. Just as I got out, someone knocked on the door.

“Don’t shoot on anything!” I yell before walking out the door.

“Hey,” greets Jimin as soon as I open the gate. Unlike his usual self, the gloomy aura surrounding him can be clearly felt. His face and shoulders seem wretched as well.

“Are you alright? You look so pale.”

“Trying to be.”

“Stay in Seokjin’s or Taehyung’s room if you want to get some rest. It’s a little rowdy in the living room.”

“Thanks. I’ll go text him.”

As soon as I hear Seokjin’s bedroom door close, I make an announcement to the kids. “Jimin’s sick. Don’t make any loud noises from now on.” It did subside but only for a short while. “You kids, anyone who makes loud noises will not get to eat lunch.” They stop playing tok look at me with a weird expression on their faces, as if they’ve never heard someone say such a thing to them before. A hint of fear can also be seen. I fucked up again, didn’t I?

Unlike what I said, I started to prepare lunch when the clock hit noon. The kids gathered at the table and chowed down as soon as the food was ready. Meanwhile, I got my own food and ate in the living room.

[ME (draft)

Hey, lunch is ready. Can you go down here?]

[ME

Lunch is ready, feel free to eat here.]

[JIMIN :)

What’s for lunch?]

[ME

Pork belly, barbecue, dumplings, rice and kimchi]

[JIMIN :)

Damn, will go there ASAP]

I wipe the droplets of sweat on my forehead. My breath keeps on running as if they are trying to get away from something… or someone. I don’t know. I don’t even want to think about this. It only makes me go crazier and crazier. Even my well-trained emotional suppression skills are barely working. Helpless, hopeless—that’s what I am.

“Hey!”

“Shit!” I hold to my chest in shock and turn around. “I-it’s you.”

“Yes, it’s me. You okay? You’re deep in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice me pass in front of you,” asks Jimin.

I shake my head. “I just zoned out.”

“Shit!” Taejoon mimicks while the other three laugh.

“Shit!” Chanbin and Yeongyu repeat in unison which makes them laugh even harder.

“Are you kids an adult to say that?” I ask.

“Shit!” The three exclaim, not even bothering to answer me.

Suddenly, I hear Jimin giggle softly—making me look back at him. “So, you can already laugh. Feeling better now?”

He just nods with a faint smile and takes a spoonful of kimchi stew. “Mmm, delicious. Did you cook?”

“Nope, one their parents probably.”

Neither of us talked after that; I just pretended the focus on my food while his eyes wandered around the place. Even though it feels like I need to say something, not a single word’s coming to my mind. My mouth is left agape from the urge to speak but not knowing what to say. For some reason, it seems to me that he’s feeling the same way. But how can I know for sure?

The kids come back to the living room not long after they have finished eating. I couldn’t thank the heavens enough; this is the only time today that I’ve actually become happy about their presence. Before they can even settle on their seats, I stand up to play the first Disney DVD my hand landed on: The Incredibles.

Jimin passes behind me so I look at him. He’s bringing my dirty plate with him to the kitchen. “Hey, s-sorry. You didn’t have to.”

He looks back and says, “Huh?”

“The plate.”

“Psh. It’s nothing.”

I follow him to the sink where he’s silently washing the dishes. He almost looks like he’s zoned out and submerged in his deep thoughts.

“Hey!” I jokingly yell from his back.

“Sh—!” He accidentally loses his grip on the plate he’s holding. It falls back to the sink, causing a small chip on the edge. “Oh, no…”

“I’m so sorry,” I say as I try to catch my breath. The plate looks expensive with all those blue Chinese prints. It most definitely came from an expensive dinnerware collection and Mrs. Kim would kill me if she sees this. I might have to babysit for nine or ten more times just to pay for the damage.

“Don’t worry about it. It was an accident.”

“But it looks expensive!”

“I was the one who lost grip on it, what are you being so worried about?” Jimin says with a faint giggle. I’m not buying it; he doesn’t sound amused at all. “Also, wanna watch?” He nonchalantly asks.

“This?” I ask back, pointing at the TV.

He just shakes his head. “Seokjin has a big collection up there.” I just looked blankly at him, deliberately making it obvious that I need more details to get what he’s saying. “Sola Aoi, Asami Yuma, Haruna Hana and so much more. We have everything we need up there!” I feel my whole body suddenly heat up upon hearing what he just said and my legs seem like they want to give up on me. “Hey, you okay?”

“Th-the kids…”

He takes a peek at them. “They’re already asleep.”

I look back at the kids and close my eyes in panic. Images of him being half-naked while beating off instantly flash in my mind. I vigorously shake my head along those thoughts. I can’t count how many times I saw him naked in the past. We even used to take a bath together along with the other guys when were younger. But this time everything’s different, especially to me, and it sucks big time. “Okay, then…”

He opens the dish dryer and puts all the now-squeaky clean plates, glasses, spoons and forks. “Don’t be so nervous. They’ll probably stay asleep until twilight or something.”

“Maybe,” I replied to him even if his words just seemed to bounce against my head. Naked. Naked. Naked. My mind just doesn’t seem to get tired about this goddamn word and keeps asking for more. Now, even the way he looks and smiles at me is starting to mean something else.

Jimin grabs my arm and pulls me until we reach Seokjin’s room. Before I could even react, the door was already locked and his pants and underwear were on the floor. My manhood starts to throb and harden as soon as my eyes lands on his half-naked body. He’s grown much bigger and thicker ever since I last saw him. That was a few years ago—same situation as now but with Hoseok and Taehyung, minus the feelings. To stop myself from completely breaking down out of panic and ruining everything for good, including our friendship, I just turn my head at a random teddy bear on Seokjin’s bed.

I sit beside him on the carpet and before also taking off my short pants and underwear. A strange kind of electricity seemed to charge on my body when I saw him look at my manhood. His mouth slightly gaped but he immediately closed it and focused on operating the DVD player. Since the tapes weren’t labeled, we don’t know what those contained. Jimin chooses just whatever. The video begins, and we see Sola Aoi who was wearing a provocative nurse uniform enter the hospital room where the middle-aged male patient was in.

I lean on the bed to relax and force myself to focus on the film. Jimin’s already starting to touch himself. He looks back at me with an unexplainable expression in his eyes. It’s been a while since I did this with them but I’m sure we didn’t look at each other while beating off, or maybe I’m just forcing weird meanings. At this point, I can’t even trust myself anymore.

I couldn’t help but start to actually beat off as soon as Sola started to moan. All of us in our group likes her the most for how irresistible she sounds when she’s getting fucked. It makes the film feel like 5D.

The film already ended but neither of us reached climax yet. When I was almost there, I stopped. I don’t know why but I felt like I needed to do so. As I try to catch my breath, I watch him while he did his business.

To my surprise, Jimin also stops and joins me in leaning on the bed, panting hard. He looked at me straight in the eyes, then his gaze dropped on my lips. “They look dry…”

Before I even knew it, our lips were all over each other and his tongue has successfully penetrated my mouth. Jimin’s hands start to explore inside my shirt before pulling it off of me. He removes his own next. My hands are frozen on his groin in disbelief. Everything seems like a dream but all of these are a hundred percent real.

“Jimin…” I mindlessly say.

“Do whatever you want to do to me.” He grabs my hand and places it on top of his manhood. “Don’t hold back.”

I pull his head and kiss him hard before pushing him down. Only God and I know how much he looks good with nothing on but his golden rolo chain necklace. “As long as you let me, I won’t.”

—

If you’re reading until here, thank you so much! The Wattpad and ao3 links where you can read the whole story are available above.

[lifesux4mostofus]

I no longer care.

But that’s a lie. 24 hours unable to end a nightmare that kept getting worse and then 3 hours of restless sleep before my body finally let me rest. For a split second it was a foggy weird dream. That pit in my stomach wasn’t there not til the next second. When everything came rushing back.

Hitting me w so much force that my body started involuntarily shaking bc suddenly my skin was cold to the touch of a fur blanket. Suddenly my mouth was dryer and my thoughts start moving faster remembering everything I was at the bliss of almost pretending didn’t happen.

Trying to remember what I felt like before the one person in this world betrayed me and himself by acting on something he knew was wrong. You knew it was wrong and did it anyway.

Being so suffocated by your own thoughts and so cold bc suddenly all warmth is gone. And hell I have a cat fast asleep in peace on my lap. But I can’t even feel his warmth. I can’t even move much more than my two thumbs.

I have to go to work today. I have to pretend I’m okay today. And the next day. And the next day. And then I have to be stuck with you for nearly 9 days of vacation that a small part of me is SCREAMing at me to just tell my boss I’ve changed my mind. I want the work. I want to get away from you. I want to force myself past the part of my mind that is suddenly so hellbent on destroying another piece of my soul.

Depression is bad but that lasts a few days and then I feel like I was being dramatic and move on. This is. This is something I don’t know what to do with. Idk if there is a moving on. I hit walls of anger. Betrayal. Self loathing. Disappointment. And then just numb like maybe if I just wallow in my self pity of the irony of my life it’ll all stop. Or maybe I like this darkness bc I am grasping to hold onto it. Something. Anything. Any kind of comfort to close a wound of betrayal I didn’t know was ever going to open again.

And now it’s flowing and it won’t stop. Like a busted pipe. It won’t stop. I can’t turn it off. I wish I could turn it off. But rn I’m just stuck in reruns of everything inside my own head. No desire to eat. No desire to want to do anything aside from crawl back in the dark hole that for a few hours of rest I was able to escape to and pretend I’m over it and moving on bc I don’t remember what I need to be over or moving on from.

I asked to know. But what’s worse is you still tried to hide it after trying to be honest. I should’ve listened to my gut. I had that feeling. That feeling that something was wrong but you couldn’t put your finger on it. I told myself I was being dramatic and crazy two weeks ago for having that feeling. Turns out a part of me knew before you were willing to tell me. Maybe you never would have if I hadn’t pressed the issue. There’s a beauty in bliss. But I prefer to chaos of knowing. It’s a reminder that this. This is why I don’t let people in.

2.5 years of a relationship suppose to lead to forever. Leaving me feeling like it didn’t exist. All of the good times gone. You can blame me for drinking. But you can’t blame me for trying to enjoy my life and then the destruction coming towards you. You set things in motion that neither of us could begin to comprehend with choices I wasn’t aware you were making. I actually thought it was solely me that was the problem. You have a way of convincing others that your chaos if worse than theirs so if you feel it you’re a martyr. How pathetic. It doesn’t erase how I handled things. You were so bothered I was acting like your ex you chose to become worse than mine. Unfaithful. A cheater. Worse bc maybe not even physically but mentally. You stroked yourself to a woman I asked you not to speak to two years ago. I still have her and her exes harassment messages.

I don’t know what I’m suppose to do with this. My thoughts all seem chaotic and clustered that I’m not even sure if anything makes sense that I’m writing. It’s funny that I’m writing this knowing your at the edge of your seat waiting for me to write it. Like you deserve some kind of explanation of what’s going through my head. You don’t. The second you let other women into your thoughts is the second you didn’t deserve mine. But I’ll give it to you freely. Bc maybe you’ll feel something from reading this. I don’t know if you can fix this and I want to hate you for doing this knowing what it would break in me. I can’t just heal over and since I’m not drunk anymore and capable of yelling my betrayal at you pretend that now I’m sober and I was being too dramatic.

Hilarious that you’re such a whore that other woman and men have always been there. The whole time in your head. It was never just about me. You always wanted more and deep down maybe I knew that. But do you feel it? That sense of if I lose her I’ll never fix this hole? That it cuts so deep to the bone that you don’t know how to breathe? Or is that just me? Maybe you don’t feel anything at all bc you have been so hellbent on thinking w your dick and betraying me maybe you’re just in love w the idea of me. A part of me wonders. If only he’d actually touched someone. Maybe I’d have the strength then and things wouldn’t be so grey bc it’s not just black and white for me to stay or leave. 60$ and rumple you use to say to demean my choice in something. Funny that now it’s 60$ and then some to destroy nearly three years of a relationship. Even tho you’ve called me wife since day one. If this is your marriage choices? I don’t want it. You think I’m in love w the idea of you so much and that I only wanted a kid. And instead of loving me, you destroyed that love and all that’s left is my kid. That looks just like you, poor girl. She is the only good thing. Would you want this for her? If a man she loved did this to her and she felt like this.. would that be okay with you?

Lucky her. That this isn’t about her. I hope to shield her from hurt like this. I hope to give her and grow the strength so if this happens to her she leaves. She respects herself enough to leave a man like you doing this to her. Next time you jerk off to another woman remember that. Remember that you wouldn’t want this for her. You wouldn’t want the love of her life doing this to her knowing how betrayed and disgusting it’ll make her feel. I hope it kills your boner every time.

On that note I don’t have much left to say. You disappointed me. And I don’t know what to do with that. I can no longer decide between what’s best for her or best for me. I can no longer think much more than today and just dragging my feet to the next few. I don’t have it in me to make a choice to leave you or make the choice to stay. Idk how long I need to heal. Or if I can. Idk if I’ll ever trust you again bc your loyalty is no longer loyal. At this point I was going to say you might want to change your bio on Twitter. “Loyal as a dog”. You keep trying to say “it’s not like that”. It is like that. You look at your dick. You look at a photo and you pretend you aren’t disgustingly beating off like a creep you pretend that girl is on your dick. I know how it works. I was 15 once too. Before I decided the real thing was better than a paid for photo or even a free one. You keep making excuses for you. Poor joe. Poor poor joe and his horny thoughts he can’t control. Fuck. You. You are not the victim here.

Dogs are better than you. Dogs take time to heal before moving on from a dead owner. Some will even let themselves die.

Good people don’t stick around to play house while rubbing their dick to whores you pay for or even free ones when their girlfriends in bed waiting for them. Good people don’t destroy their families for a nut.

I am tired. So please just let me be. I don’t feel sorry for you. You did this to yourself. You did this to us.

[seokoloqy]

Play Pretend | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: jungkook x y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, angst, soccer player!jk, fake dating!au, f2l

➳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

➳ WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, minor violence, not rlly fingering but fingering ig, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

➳ SUMMARY: walking under ladders, splitting the pole, breaking mirrors, going near black cats—just to name a few things Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do before his soccer games.

And after Jungkook catches his girlfriend cheating on him, he’s going to need a little more than luck to get her back. He needs you.

➳ A/N: it’s been a long time coming but she’s finally done!! Everyone say thank you to Jane (@perfectlylmperfekt) for kicking my ass every day and making sure I was writing

—

As rain batters against the windows, your cat saunters up to your lounging figure. He rubs against your blanket-covered legs, begging for attention and belly rubs. You set aside the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to run your cold hands across his back, enjoying his satisfied purrs as you coo, “are you bored too, Pitch?”

The cat you brought home from the shelter has become your best friend. He’s always there for you whenever Jungkook isn’t around and you’re grateful for his companionship. No matter how many times Jungkook begs you to get rid of him because of his superstitions, you refuse. Pitch is family now and there’s no way you’re giving him away because Jungkook thinks he’s bad luck.

The reruns of your favorite television show have been on since you got back from class and all you’ve done is lay around eating junk food. You’d be hanging out with your roommate, Jungkook if he weren’t already at his girlfriend’s house for the night. For now, it’s just you, Pitch, and one too many Oreos.

You hear the sound of your front door unlocking and a disgruntled sigh. The door slams shut and Pitch jumps off your lap, bolting across the floor and slinking back into your bedroom.

“Back already?” You call out to your roommate, who made an unexpected return. Jungkook told you he’d be back tomorrow, you were expecting the apartment all to yourself.

He doesn’t respond, the sound of his squelching footsteps across the wooden floor make your head turn. You’re surprised to be greeted with his shaggy, dripping hair and soaked clothes, grey sweater clinging to his skin as he stares dejectedly off into space.

“What happened to you?”

“I caught Sooyoung cheating on me and we lost the match,” he mumbles.

Jungkook sighs, flinging his duffle bag to the ground as he drags his feet over to you. Falling back onto the couch with his legs dangling over the armrest, he looks up at you hovering over his face, distraught by his confession.

“You okay?” You ask, trying to sound supportive.

He gives you an incredulous look, “I lost the match and my girlfriend cheated on me! I’m not okay at all!”

You raise your hands in surrender, “It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s just one match and it’s her loss.”

“But she was my good luck charm,” he pouts, turning on his side to face the television.

Ever since they started dating, he’s won every game and somehow he’s convinced it’s her that helped him win. Though you only believe it’s just luck that he happens to win every time she’s there. She’s like a lucky pair of socks he needs for every game.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into the cushions and huffing, “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re a good player all on your own. Standing on the sidelines waving around some poster doesn’t correlate to you winning every time. You’ll do great with or without her.”

“No,” he stubbornly says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need her.”

“How ‘bout I go with you for your next game?” you suggest, reaching over to grab your melting tub of ice cream. “I bet you’ll still win even without your lucky charm.”

“But you hate watching my soccer matches.”

“It’s just one game. How bad can it be?” You shrug, dangling the tub of ice cream over his face. “Now, eat this, it’ll make you feel better.”

—

“Where’s the cereal?”

“Huh?” you hum, snapping out of your reverie. He’s already wearing his purple jersey, lacing up his cleats, and waving around a box of cereal. Usually, you aren’t awake when he leaves for games, busy catching precious hours of sleep instead of waving him off.

However, your attention is focused on the tendrils of black ink crawling up his thigh beneath his shorts. You’re not very familiar with the tattoo, having only seen it once when he first got it. He had flashed his thigh to you unexpectedly with the flower patterns swirling up his leg and disappearing past the black fabric of his ridden up shorts. You’d turned away, refusing to look at his exposed leg, afraid of where the ink ended. Maybe it stops right above the hip bone, nearing mouthwatering territory. You regret not stopping to admire it now, dreamily eyeing the marks peeking from underneath the black nylon material.

“The cereal—there’s no more.” He shakes the empty carton, bringing your attention to him and raising an eyebrow. “Did you eat it all last night while I was gone?”

You scoff, lifting your hand to your chest and feign offense, “No, I would never eat your bland and healthy cereal.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a black creature creeping towards the countertop, jumping up and edging towards you. “Oh, Pitch!” you squeal, running your hand over his fur.

“Argh! Get that cat away from here. That thing is bad luck.” Jungkook backs up from the countertop, pressing himself against the stove, nails digging into his palms.

“In some cultures, black cats are considered good luck,” you state, playing with Pitch’s clawing pink paws. “Your fear of him is irrational. Besides, how can you be afraid of him? He’s so cute,” you coo, tickling his stomach.

“I’m not afraid of your cat. I’d just prefer if it weren’t around me before games.”

“Him, not it,” you correct, watching as Jungkook slowly edges around the stove and moves to the fridge.

“Whatever, just keep it away,” he dismisses, turning his back towards you to open the fridge and rifle through its contents of healthy options.

He seems fine, considering what happened yesterday. Still superstitious as always. But you’re wondering how he’s really feeling, hoping he’s not bottling up his emotions until he’s ready to burst.

“So,” you ponder, “have you called Sooyoung yet?”

He shuts the door, leaning his forehead against the cold metal with a dejected sigh, “I mean, we’ve been together for years. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

You nod slowly, muttering, “I guess, but she cheated on you.”

“I know,” he grits his teeth, turning around with a red Gatorade in hand, twisting the lid open and taking a long swig, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, turning your attention to Pitch instead returning his intense gaze lingering on you.

He cocks his head towards the door, “Let’s go.”

You slide off your seat at the island and head towards the door, regretting bringing up his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend. He follows closely behind, unconsciously pressing a gentle hand on your lower back and dragging along his grey duffle bag.

—

The hanging overcast sky brings a cold wind around the field, ripping umbrellas out of hands and blowing away lawn chairs not secured to the ground. As you step foot on the sinking, damp grass, you cringe seeing the underside of your semi-new white shoes become muddy and stained.

Jungkook strides onto the field with no problem, used to the conditions after heavy rain and loving the exhilarating feeling of playing on a damp field.

“It’s freezing out here,” you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to conserve body heat. If you had known it was going to be this cold with the wind whipping about, you would have worn more than a sweater and maybe you would have brought your own chair seeing as the metal benches are still wet from the earlier rain.

Jungkook drops his duffle bag on the bench, shrugging off his thick jacket. “Here, take mine. I don’t need it anyway,” he offers, holding it open to allow you to slip your arms through the sleeves. As he helps you push your arms through the sleeves, his lingering warmth shields you from the cold and he brings his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” You twist to loosen his unrelenting grip on you. “Get off.”

“Not yet, wait till she sees,” he hums patiently, running his nose along the shell of your ear.

“W-What?” You stutter, squirming away from his heated breath puffing across your neck. You scan the crowd of people, spying the crowd for said ‘she.’ As you watch the bleachers a face appears in the stands, gazing down at your awkward position in one another's arms. Sooyoung’s beaming smile fades as she watches Jungkook press a kiss to your cheek and pulls you to his side, casually resting his arm over your shoulder.

While he pretends not to acknowledge her, she gets the message, timidly lowering the hand she almost waved. You can understand why Jungkook wouldn’t want to speak to her, after all, she did cheat on him. But what is he trying to accomplish by holding you so close?

“She’s jealous,” he smirks, “She’ll want me back soon enough.”

You gawk, no longer flattered by his intimate touches.

“Hey, pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s make Sooyoung jealous.”

“How is that a good idea? She cheated on you and you still care about what she thinks?”

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be like revenge.”

“Getting revenge never solves anything. If anything it makes everything worse.” You say, watching Sooyoung continuously glance at the two of you from her seat alone.

“Please? It’s just holding hands and stuff that’s it.”

Holding hands and stuff? Denying that you had a crush on your roommate/friend would be useless. Of course, you like him but pretending to be his girlfriend to get back at his ex? You guess it wouldn’t hurt to help your best friend.

“Fine.”

Jungkook grins, “this is going to be great. Stay here okay and watch me win this then.”

He places a seemingly quick and meaningless kiss on your lips, making sure everyone on the field and off has a chance to see, before dashing off to join his teammates at center field without another thought or explanation. You slowly lower yourself onto the soaked bench, faintly feeling the water seeping into your jeans, but you’re too distracted by the lingering taste of his lips. Your thoughts are a blur of chaos, still reeling from him calling you his new girlfriend and the unexpected kiss—a kiss you can’t wrap your head around.

Are you supposed to feel anything other than butterflies fluttering in your stomach? Why would he kiss you? He just wants to do it for show.

The referee blows on his whistle, starting the match and your gaze follows Jungkook. His determination and focus follow the ball and nothing else like the world falls away.

The ball is passed around and the crowd cheers, but all you can focus on is Jungkook. He runs after the ball, legs pumping across the field. The dark patterns of his orchid tattoo show beneath his shorts with every stride he makes.

Drops of rain begin to speckle your cheeks, you pull up the hood of Jungkook’s jacket. The rain begins to pour, hitting the field and bouncing off the surface. As rain drenches players and audience members alike, the game continues without a pause. Through the haze of water, you can see Jungkook still running despite rain falling in his eyes and his dark bangs sticking to his forehead. The purple jersey clings to the toned muscle beneath, giving you a view of his abs.

Oh man, you’re in trouble.

—

“Hey, wanna watch a-”

You make a beeline towards your bedroom, not wanting to spend another awkward second with him. The door slams behind you just as you hear him call out your name, wondering why you’re avoiding him.

You throw yourself onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows and screaming to release your frustrations. It’s mostly confusion though, you don’t understand anything.

In the hallway, you hear his footsteps walking past your door and you’re afraid he’ll swing your door open and demand you tell him what’s wrong, but the shower turns on instead. You breathe a sigh of relief, rolling over on your bed.

“You don’t just kiss a friend,” you mutter under your breath, talking to no one in particular until you hear a soft ‘meow.’ You’re reminded that Pitch hasn’t eaten yet and you haven’t refilled his bowl. If you get out now, you’ll be able to sneak back before Jungkook gets out of the shower. Peeling yourself off the bed, you peek your head out into the hall. The bathroom door across from you is shut with the melodious sounds of Jungkook’s humming beneath the trickling of water.

Pitch slips out of the room, dashing into the hall and you follow after him. In the kitchen, you grab a can of his favorite chicken flavor food from the cabinet to pour into his metallic bowl. He purrs with delight, picking up his meal.

You leave him to eat in peace, sneaking back to the hall where water has stopped running, but the door is still closed with the fan whirring inside. As you tiptoe towards your door, Jungkook emerges from the steam filled room wrapped in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his skin. It’s not like you haven’t seen anything before. His love for as minimal clothing as possible hasn’t phased you until now.

“Hey,” he greets casually as if nothing has changed. Maybe he doesn’t feel the tension slowly rising between you two, but you’re certainly feeling the repercussions of his kiss. You dodge around him to get to your room, muttering about a paper that’s due soon. Once you’re safely hidden in your room, you breathe a sigh of relief. You know you can’t avoid him forever. It’s childish to just ignore him and not address your problems.

A knock comes from behind your back, Jungkook calls through the door, “Hey, what’s up?”

The door swings open and you stumble away from the door as he pushes his way into your room. His head pops through the crack, peering at you with his brows furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?” he questions innocently, opening the door wider so he can step in.

“No,” you squeak, holding your breath as you notice his towel dip lower around his waist.

“Then what’s wrong? Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Now, get out of my room and put a shirt on please.”

He glances down, slyly returning his gaze back up to you with a smirk gracing his lips. “Oh,” he cocks his brow, “are you blushing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red, Y/N.”

You move to push against his toned chest, forcing him out of your room. “Get out, I mean it, Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, walking backward. “I’m leaving, but if you ever want a taste—”

You screech, slapping his shoulder, “Get out!”

His laugh echoes down the hall as he walks back to his room.

—

“You’re coming to my game next week right?” Jungkook asks over a bowl of soggy cereal, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“No?” You stop petting Pitch focusing on Jungkook.

“What?” His spoon clatters against his bowl as he gives you a dubious look. “But you’re my good luck charm now. We won the last game with you. I need you!”

“I keep telling you—”

“It’s the championships! We can’t lose this.”

You cross your arms with a heavy sigh, ignoring the pleading look he gives you. When will he start to realize he doesn’t need anyone to win?

As you begin to argue with his logic, he interrupts, “I’ll clean out Pitch’s litter box for a month!”

You can’t argue with that. You’d rather sit on a cold bench for an hour or two than clean out the litter box.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“After the championships, I’ll take you out to dinner. There’s this new fancy restaurant-”

“Like… like a date?” You blurt suddenly, interrupting him. You pull Pitch into your arms like he’s your comfort animal, holding him to your chest as you nervously look at Jungkook.

He furrows his brows as if the answer is obvious. He shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, chewing and speaking slowly, “Yeah, I guess… me and Sooyoung were gonna go together, but you know…” A dark look rolls over his expression as he says Sooyoung’s name, recalling her betrayal.

“Oh,” you say, hoping to not sound too disappointed.

“I already made the reservations and there’s no point in letting it go to waste.”  

“Okay, sure.” You hoped he would be interested enough actually take you out because he wants to, not because he has no one else to go with. You don’t know why you feel so rejected.

As you run your fingers through Pitch’s dark fur and watch Jungkook finish off his bowl of cereal, you wonder why he doesn’t seem to care about the other day. He hasn’t mentioned the kiss.

“So, you’re headed off to practice today?”

His purple uniform is laid out on the counter, washed of all the dirt and sweat from the rigorous day before.

“Yeah, wanna come? We can go eat after afterward,” he suggests, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. “I mean, we haven’t hung out for a while.”

He’s right. The last time you both spent a good amount of time together was before he started dating Sooyoung. So you easily agree to his offer, happy to spend more time with him.

—

“You’re late. Laps.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Jungkook drops his bag to the ground, groaning as his coach gives the order and he’s forced to begin jogging around the rectangular white painted field. The rest of his teammates are in the middle of the field doing their usual drills with one another. You linger on the sidelines next to the water cooler like the towel boy dishing out water to every exhausted player that comes by. You don’t mind it though, it’s better than sitting on the bench doing nothing but idle on your phone alone. You like making small talk with his teammates every time they come for a drink.

Jimin seems especially thirsty today, however, taking every opportunity between activities to jog over with a clandestine smile.

“Again?” you laugh, moving to grab a paper cup to fill up for the sixth time.

“Hey,” he whines, gently prying it from your fingers. “You don’t have to pour it for me. I’m not a kid.”

“But there’s nothing else to do! I’ve just been sitting here watching you guys practice like some soccer mom.”

“Soccer moms are hot,” he comments with a simple shrug of his shoulder and a sly smile creeping onto his face.

“Ha-ha,” you mockingly laugh, rolling your eyes.

As Jimin moves to fill his cup beside you, you look over at Jungkook, surprised that he's already looking at you, more specifically at Jimin with an unamused expression. A deep scowl forming across his features. When he starts jogging over you avert your gaze to Jimin chugging down the water he had just filled.

“You’re spending more time with my girl than practicing,” Jungkook snidely comments, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulder to roughly pull him to his side with a fake plastered smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Jimin throws his hands up in surrender sarcastically. “I didn’t know you already got over your ex and started dating Y/N overnight. It takes getting used to.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, pushing a laughing Jimin off him. “You just like getting on my nerves.”

Jimin straightens his uniform, giggling, “Yeah, you’re right, but I also happen to actually like Y/N. I’m just trying to keep her company while you’re ignoring her for practice.”

Just as Jungkook begins to threaten Jimin, their coach blows a whistle, calling them both back over to the field, threatening them with more laps.

As they both jog back, giving playful shoves, you sigh becoming bored again.  

After they’re released from practicing the whole team runs to the water cooler to relax, sighing in relief after grueling drills. Most of them ignore you for their cups of water, but Jungkook and Jimin seem to fight for your attention.

“Are you coming to my house to hang out? The rest of the team is coming.” Jimin asks you and not Jungkook, purposely ignoring him. “It’ll be fun to hang out again.”

He reminds you of the days before Jungkook’s girlfriend when you all would hang out whether it was at Jimin’s apartment or over dinner.

“Sure,” you agree, happy to bond with the boys again.

“You said you were hanging out with me today though,” Jungkook interjects, refusing to let Jimin steal you away from him for the day.

You don’t want to disappoint either of them, deciding on a compromise, “Well we can hang out together at Jimin’s house, right?”

“Great meet you guys there.” Jimin waves as he scoops up his duffle bag and heads towards the car with Hoseok and Seokjin.

—

Jungkook has been glowering for a while now, watching Jimin laugh heartily with his arm wrapped around you. Everyone else seems to notice the tension rolling off Jungkook in waves, awkwardly glancing over at him occasionally but not caring enough to ask what’s wrong.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Yoongi calls from the kitchen, “Come open this jar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, muscle boy, or I’ll have to break it open.”

“Fine,” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the recliner into the kitchen to join Yoongi and Seokjin.

Taehyung sneaks up behind you on the couch, resting his head on his folded hands against the back. “So,” he ponders, “What’s it like being the rebound?”

You’re not sure who gives Taehyung the harsh smack to the head, but he whines and pushes himself up wondering what he did wrong.

He’s right. You are the rebound—fake rebound. It’s bad enough being a rebound but it hurts, even more, knowing that he doesn’t have the same feelings you do because he’s so caught up in trying to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“That’s not what he means, Y/N,” Jimin assures, trying to comfortingly lay a hand on your shoulder to ease your worries away. As much as he tries to help, not even his soothing touch or gentle words can help rid the way you feel about the whole unfortunate situation you find yourself trapped in.

Should you fake break up with him? Tell him it’s over and pretend it never happened? Maybe you should just let this whole charade continue until his ex finally wants him back. If she even wants him back. It’ll be easier for both of you. You won’t have to face him about your feelings and he will get the girl again.

You need to keep up with this whole fake dating charade.

“I’m okay with it,” you say, plastering on a fake smile to convince the boys, mostly Jimin who’s watching you with worry in his eyes. “Really, I am.”

“Dinner is ready.”

Everyone’s head whips to see Jungkook peeking his head out from the kitchen door whose eyes find Jimin’s strewn hand resting over your shoulder and narrowing.

As everyone jumps from their comfortable spot on the couch to scramble into the dining room, Jungkook grabs your arm to pull you back from the group.

“Do you want to go home? We don’t have to eat here.” His eyes dart over to Jimin’s back disappearing with the rest of the boys to eat.

“Why not? We should just stay here.”

“But you look upset.”

You hadn’t realized the look still plastered on your face. He noticed the way your downcast eyes avoid him.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.” You pull yourself away from Jungkook and follow the rest of the boys, ignoring the worried lingering eyes watching you walk away.

—

“Why are you so upset with me again?” Jungkook grumbles, slamming the front door shut behind him. You ignored him the whole time during dinner, even choosing to sit next to Jimin instead. You just didn’t feel right about this whole thing anymore.

“Because you’re such a...”

“Such a what?”

You fall on the couch, slouching into the cushions as he takes a seat next to you. Why doesn’t he see it? He’s blind to how he’s been acting lately. He’s so confusing. He acts as if you’re his real girlfriend, but doesn’t give you any real sign that he actually feels anything.

“You’re just so blind! You make me your fake girlfriend, but it doesn’t feel that way to me!”

“What do you mean? You know this was only to make Sooyoung jealous.”

That’s what hurts. The fact he doesn’t even acknowledge how you could feel.

“You act like some kind of jealous boyfriend when Jimin is around and you were never like that before. It’s just giving me mixed signals. For you maybe it was only about her, but what about me, Jungkook? What about how I feel?”

“And what do you feel?” He crosses his arms defensively, trying to figure out what you mean.

“I-I…” You can barely get the right words out, afraid of their consequence. If you don’t say the words now, you’ll be stuck. “I like you! More than you think. I like you more than a friend or roommate should and you’re just so blind!”

It feels better as the weight is lifted off your shoulders, but the longer you watch Jungkook’s expression simmer with confusion, the more you feel that pressure returning. He’s still so hung up on his ex, so what makes you think he’ll return your feelings? He did all this—pretended to have a fake girlfriend—just to make her jealous and get her back.

“I’m sorry I did this to you. I still have feelings for her, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

His hand slides onto your leg, firmly gripping the jean-clad thigh in an attempt to comfort you, not knowing what else to do. Your downcast eyes find their way to the black tattoo peeking from underneath his shorts, trailing and twisting a complicated path upwards to territory unknown.

“So does that mean you could feel the same?” You swallow thickly. You’re stuck, wallowing in self-pity and the uncontrollable urge to just kiss him and hope that he’ll change his mind about everything. That just one kiss could change your relationship and you’ll have everything you want. It’s pitiful to think a measly kiss could change anything between you, but why not be daring? Why not be bold and go for it?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Then do you,” you lick your lips, “want to find out?”

You begin to lean into him unconsciously letting your body make the first move. It’s just a kiss, right? When he kissed you on that soccer field everything seemed to change for you.

Your hand reaches the nape of his neck, slowly intertwining timid fingers with the dark, silky strands of hair, daring to brush your nose against his. Breathless—the air leaves your lungs with each centimeter your lips get closer.

“Y/N…” he murmurs just inches away from you, inches away from crossing an unspoken line of friendship.

As soon as your lips lock something more than friendship ignites. The warmth passing throughout your body is something more than the tingle of first kisses and innocent butterflies dancing around your stomach.

Jungkook’s hand moves from your thigh, sliding up to latch around your waist, pulling you forward until your chests press against one another. It’s like a spark has lit between you two, creating an irresistible pull to cling onto one another desperately.

His lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing every inch of exposed skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over your body, arching further into him for more. “J-Jungkook,” you moan as he pushes you back to lay flat against the couch.

He hovers over you, kneeled between your parted thighs, dark bangs brushing over his crescent lids and nearly shielding the hungry gaze in his eyes. Fingers teasingly circle the button of your jeans as his gaze flickers between wary and lustful. Jungkook cocks his head before asking, “You want this?”

Without a voice, you nod your response, hoping it’s enough to ease him.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, yes, I want this, Jungkook,” you whine, gripping his forearm with one hand to move him against your jeans again.

Your verbal confirmation allows Jungkook to finally move to unbutton your jeans, shoving his hand into your pants without hesitation. He’s eager now, not even waiting until you can get your pants off fully. Easily, he finds your clit and begins to rub in slow, languid up and down motions to draw out a pretty moan from your lips. He cracks a grin hearing those little whimpers and feeling your legs curl around his thighs from the pleasure he bring you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the cushions when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck off your juices. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac that is you.

You lift your hips off the couch to press yourself into his erection, grinding against the loose material of his soccer shorts, feeling the hardness of his cock laid on your stomach. You tremble with anticipation as he pulls down your jeans, staring at your exposed cunt.

“God,” he groans, sliding himself down your body until he’s level with your pussy. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping.”

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, “f-fingers.”

“Fingers or my dick first? Because you’re coming on both tonight.”

If your mouth wasn’t already hanging open from his fingers sliding up and down your folds, it would be now.

You gasp when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers claw at his shoulders between your thighs. “I just want you. I want all of you.”

“Shit, I don’t think I want to wait. Just ride me now.”

Jungkook pulls himself away from your core, pulling his jersey over his head and his soccer shorts down. As he slings his clothes aside and relaxes against the couch, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You’re really going to have sex with your roommate/best friend. This is either the biggest mistake of your life or the greatest turn of events. The muscles in your arms stiffen as you grip his shoulders for stability.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and pushing back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “We both want this, right?”

You nod, biting down on your lower lip before aligning with his cock.

He’s right. You want this as much as he does. You trust him—love him.

As your dripping folds brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively lower yourself further, taking the rest of him in swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick, has you moaning out his name, gasping for air, “Mhm, Jungkook.”

You rock your hips into him, already feeling yourself tightening and clenching. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full.

Jungkook takes your hips, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, causing you to scream.

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into the cushions and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clench shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax. Jungkook’s finger slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you gonna come?” He asks, breathlessly, pulling his head forward to kiss your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises against your skin.

“Y-Yes,” you pant, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good. ”

At this point whatever tumbles out of your mouth is just unfiltered thoughts.

“Then come,” he moans against your neck, “Come all over my cock.”

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive mound is all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure. Your legs tighten around Jungkook’s waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him.

Not long after, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally maxed out, you feel him going soft inside you. Jungkook slowly slips himself out, careful not to let any of your juices drip onto the couch by stuffing two fingers into you and plugging you up.

You let out a little whine, “Ah, wh-”

“This couch was expensive,” he chuckles, “We don’t need any stains.”

“Well, who told you to buy the expensive couch?”

“I know a better place where we can make a mess.”

Just as Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist to hoist you up from the couch, there is a small knock on the door. Both your heads turn, afraid it might be your neighbors with a noise complaint.

“Jungkook?”

It’s Sooyoung’s voice.

“What is she doing here?” You ask, not realizing how shaky your voice sounds. Fuck, she isn’t supposed to be here. Not now.

“I don’t know, but don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Meet me in my room. I’ll take care of you right after,” he winks, slipping his fingers out of you and licking up both your arousals off his fingers.

You giggle, “Okay, hurry up then.”

Maybe he really has gotten over her, you can’t help but feel the giddy sense of joy as you scurry to his room, looking over your shoulder to see him throw back on his soccer uniform and fix his hair.

You run into his room, throwing yourself onto his bed and spreading your body out on the sheets, grinning happily to yourself. What a dream—you can hardly believe it. Could this be the start a new relationship between the two of you?

Voices raise in the living room, you catch a faint word of Jungkook and Sooyoung’s conversation.

“...me back…”

“... still in love…”

“...can’t… somewhere…”

You lay in Jungkook’s bed, completely naked and vulnerable, waiting for him to come back for what feels like hours. You’re curious. What are they talking about for so long? Jungkook said he’d be quick to shoo her away. Worry begins to set, and a sense of doubt starts to plague your mind. What if…?

You slip out of his bed and tiptoe down the hall to your room to grab something to cover yourself up.

As soon as the fluffy, white robe is wrapped around you, you skip back out into the hall and peek over to see what you suspected all along.

You’re trembling—sick to your stomach—watching as Jungkook wraps a strong arm around her waist to pull her in. His lips are pressed against hers. That kiss is no mistake. He still loves her. It’s clear nothing between you two has flourished into anything you’d hoped for, instead it comes crashing all around you into dust.

You wonder if she can taste your arousal on his lips still lingering after he finished with you. How can he kiss her so passionately when those same lips were on you just moments ago?

You’re foolish to believe that one night could change anything. He said he still had feelings for her. They were together for years. It’s not so easy to forget your first love.

The burning tears that well up in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, protecting yourself, begin to fall.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper. Even if you screamed it, it seems as if that wouldn’t break up the couples’ passionate reunion.

You find yourself laid in bed, curled up with an emptiness in your stomach, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. You should clean up. Wash away traces of him on your body, get rid of whatever he touched.

You force yourself out of bed, across the hall, glancing over at the front door to find the two nowhere to be found. They left? He left? Jungkook fucks you and leaves right after as if him kissing his ex wasn’t a hard enough pill to swallow.

The scorching water isn’t enough to clean away how you feel. Such a sinking feeling isn’t easy to scrub away no matter how many time you claw your hands over those marks he left you, hoping the traces of him will disappear.

Once you’re out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and laid back in bed, curled into a ball, you scroll through your phone to distract yourself. Somehow your thumb finds Jimin’s phone number. You bite your lip, wondering whether or not you should message him. You just want someone to talk to—someone to hold.

[You - 11:36 PM] hey

You lay your phone down, hoping for a quick response. You idly drum your fingers against your sheets, resisting the urge to cry again as your thoughts are muddled by images of Jungkook and Sooyoung.

[Jimin - 11:39 PM] what’s up? It’s pretty late

[You - 11:39 PM] yeah I guess it is… you’re probably resting before the big game tomorrow… I just wanted someone to talk to and you always say you’re here for me

Seconds after sending that message, your phone begins to buzz as a photo of Jimin pops up on your screen.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out croaked, parched because of all the crying you’ve been doing.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds upset, not at you but because he’s worried. At least you know one person cares about you.

“I just feel like an idiot.” Your voice wavers, threatening to choke up again and start to sob. “I just—I want to talk to someone right now.”

There’s silence on the line and then the sound of sheets rustling.

“Hello?” You call.

“I’m coming over.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” you stutter, wiping away a stray tear. “The championship is tomorrow. You need sleep.”

“And you need me, so I’m coming.”

It isn’t negotiable for him. He hangs up right after, leaving you to wait for his arrival almost ten minutes later despite living almost thirty minutes away.

Jimin arrives with his hair in disarray, a tee shirt, and pajama bottoms, and his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. You wrap the robe around you tighter, hoping to cover the hickeys along your collar away from sight. He rushes forward without an invitation to envelop you in a comforting hug.

“The fuck happened? Was it Jungkook?”

His questions are drowned out as you allow yourself to ease into him, releasing all the tension you’ve built.

“Don’t talk about him.”

That’s all he needs to know to close his mouth and guide you to the couch, reminding himself to deal with the problem later and comfort you first.

For a while it’s just silence, time ticking away as you sit together in each other’s arms, and then your sniffles, sobs, and tears. They come in waves of different emotions: regret, sorrow, and anger.

“I should have been smarter. I knew he loved her. He said he still had feelings for her! I’m such an idiot!”

“You’re not an idiot. Stop blaming yourself for Jungkook’s mistakes. None of this is your fault, okay?”

“But I shouldn’t have agreed to go along with his stupid plan!”

“Wait, what plan?”

You wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve and sigh, “He wanted to make Sooyoung jealous so she’d want him back, so we pretended to date.”

“He used you?”

You can feel his temper flaring in the way his posture straightens and his hands tighten around your waist.

When the front door creaks open both your heads whip around to find Jungkook sneaking back into the house, freshly disarrayed hair. Once he spots the two of you cuddled up on the couch in each other’s arms, he pauses underneath the door frame as he gapes at your teary, puffy eyes.  

“I can’t believe you,” Jimin sneers, rising off the couch with nothing but contempt written on his face.

“Don’t,” you weakly murmur, pulling on his hand before he can advance any further.

“What are you doing here?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think you can just sleep with Y/N and then go off to fuck your ex who cheated on you?”

Jimin rips his hand from your grasp, unable to contain the anger he’s built up from watching you cry over Jungkook.

Jungkook eases back towards the hanging mirror, raising his hands up as a feeble way to shield himself from the older’s advances. Too afraid of the menacing look in Jimin’s eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have-”

An excruciatingly, sharp crack of bone and flesh connecting and shards of glass shattering, resonating throughout the living room before Jungkook can finish his sentence. Pieces of broken mirror scatter all around Jungkook’s feet along with drops of blood as he curses, sliding to the floor and holding his shoulder.

“Jimin!” You exclaim, rushing from the couch to Jungkook’s side and inspecting his scratched up arm. “Shit, you didn’t need to do that!”

“Maybe I didn’t, but he deserves it,” Jimin spits, refusing to come to Jungkook’s aid.

There aren’t deep shards of glass embedded Jungkook’s arm, it’s just minor cuts scattered across his skin. Thankfully, it’s nothing that calls for serious medical attention.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook chuckles, wincing as his freshly bruised jaw begins to burn as his mouth moves, “That’s like… seven years of bad luck, isn’t it?”

He knows how badly he fucked up and how badly you must hate him now. He doesn’t know what else to say.

You’re in no mood to laugh with him.

“Come on.” You tug on his hands, standing up to help him on his feet. “Get up and put some ice on your face.”

Jungkook wobbles to his feet, cradling his jaw and sidestepping around Jimin who stands firmly in the path leading to the kitchen.

“You can stay at my place tonight if you want,” Jimin offers as soon as Jungkook is out of sight and rummaging for a bag to put ice in, “if you’re not comfortable staying here alone with him.”

“There’s nothing worse he can do now, Jimin,” you sigh, looking around for something to sweep up the glass. You don’t want Jimin hovering over you the whole night, you feel bad enough forcing him out of bed, but it’ll just cause more tension if he and Jungkook stay under the same roof. “You might as well go home. There’s a game tomorrow.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jimin hesitantly says, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You follow after Jimin as he moves to the door. You wave him off and shut the door behind him, letting out a frustrated huff as you look back at Jungkook. He’s is still in the kitchen leaning against the island and tenderly holding an ice pack to his jaw. You don’t know whether to approach him or just walk away, back to your room where you’ll continue to wallow alone.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a pathetic apology, murmured under his breath as you walk past the kitchen. You pause, stepping back beneath the threshold.

“Sorry for what? Sorry that you slept with me or sorry that you took back Sooyoung right after?”

You watch Jungkook wince, not from the throbbing on his cheek but from the harshness of your words. He stares at the floor, not daring to face you.

You leave him behind not bothering to say goodnight.  

—

The morning of the championship game comes too quickly and you still can’t find it in your heart to forgive Jungkook. When you hear the sounds of Jungkook shuffling in the hallway out to the kitchen for his ritual bowl of cereal, his footsteps come to a stop in front of your door.

He hesitates to knock, choosing to stand in the hallway and dejectedly stare at your door. You listen as his footsteps recede. As you silently stare at your bedroom door, wondering if you should go out.

You know you’re supposed to be there for him today as his ‘lucky charm,’ but how are you supposed to crawl out of bed and be there for him when he couldn’t be bothered to stay with you last night?

You curl yourself further into your blankets, shielding yourself from the sounds of Jungkook pouring his cereal, zipping up his duffle bag, shooing Pitch away, then walking out the front door alone.

Once the front door shuts, you pull yourself out of bed, dragging along a blanket over your head and into the living room where you fall on the couch with a defeated sigh. Pitch meows before jumping up to snuggly curl beside your feet.

His game should be ending already and if it were a perfect world you two would’ve been headed to dinner. You bought a dress already, before yesterday, you were counting down the days until the game but now you’re just counting down the minutes that you won’t be. You want to go to dinner, sit and talk, laugh and pretend he didn’t break your heart the night before.

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] we lost the game :/

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] it was my fault rlly… i was distracted. everything is my fault.

[Jungkook - 6:51 PM] will you still meet me for dinner?

You toss your phone aside, leaving his texts unanswered. His last message makes you wonder though. You want to go to a fancy dinner and just pretend for a night that nothing ever went wrong between the two of you. Might as well pretend to get ready, pretend that Jungkook could love you the same way, pretend to be happy.

“Pitch, you love me, don’t you?” You murmur, running your hands along his spine before standing to prepare for what could’ve been a good night.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t love you, it was that he couldn’t love you the same way you did him.

Pitch lets out a content meow, following after you into your bedroom.

You pick out the dress hanging in your closet, laying it down on your bed.

“I’m not going to forgive him so easily, Pitch,” you say as Pitch seems to give you a look saying ‘really?’. “I just want to feel good about myself for once,” you huff. This is all for you. Maybe you'll dress up and stay on the couch all day eating ice cream and watching movies. Fancy dresses don’t have to mean fancy dinner. Fancy dresses are just a confidence booster.

Minutes turn to an hour and you’re finally ready for absolutely nothing—no date, no night out with your friends—just nothing. But you feel good, a little better than before, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“His loss,” you confidently say, trying hard to convince yourself to stay positive.

[Jungkook - 7:32 PM] hey im at the restaurant if you decide to meet me… i really hope you do. Let’s start over.

[Jungkook - 7:35 PM] i’ll wait if thats what it takes.

Reading his texts make you feel guilty for standing him up, but you won’t go. You stay put right where you are, comfortably lounging on the couch with a tub of ice cream and Pitch at your side.

“He’s just going to have to sit there a little while longer.”

When Pitch jumps off the couch running over to his litter box, you sit back with a sigh, playing with the hem of your dress.

When the clock touches half-past eight o’clock, the door unlocks and Jungkook walks through with a bouquet clutched in his hands. He’s as dressed up as you are, wearing a tucked in a white button-up with black slacks. He stops once he sees you, dressed up and alone.

“You look,” he’s awestruck, “beautiful.”

“Thank you… You look good too,” you awkwardly say, eyes darting around to avoid his

“Oh,” he flushes, flattening out the front of his shirt. He realizes the flowers in his hands, holding out to you hesitantly. “I-I bought you flowers.” The scarlet petals almost match the shade of his cheeks as he presents the red flowers wrapped in a thin layer of plastic to you.

You take them from him, running your fingers delicately over the petals.

Glancing over at the purple and black bruise Jimin had given him last night, you almost wince at the sight. “How are you?”

Jungkook grimaces, “I’m okay, I guess. I-I waited for you. At dinner. You never showed so the waiter felt kinda bad for me,” he faintly chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets, “he said I could come back again if ‘my date ever changed her mind’ and let me make a new reservation.”

You nod slowly, twisting the frills of your decorative pillows. It’s just silence, then—

“I was fucking stupid for kissing her,” he admits suddenly, “I swear, I would take it back. I-I just… we were together for a long time. It’s hard to just forget how I feel.”

“So now what?”

“I told her I can’t be with her that’s why I left last night. I… I love you. Let’s start over and let’s do this right.”

The twinge you feel in your chest, the sinking feeling in your stomach, tells you how guilty he really is.

Jungkook rounds the corner of the couch to sit beside you, thighs touching, reminding you of last night. You scoot away, placing the flowers between your bodies to separate yourselves.

“Stop.”

He accepts the distance, not wanting to push you further away.

“I’m sorry. I-I just want a second chance to prove that I do care about you.” The genuine look in his eyes shows you only regret and the promise to make it up.

You look down at the flowers between the two of you, picking at the petals. You don’t want to lose Jungkook as a friend, even if he did break your heart. He will always be your best friend. He wants to make it work, and you want to give him a chance to make it up. Maybe you won’t fully return the feelings that were once there, but you can still make an effort to forgive him.

“Okay. Let’s start over.”

[thomaslightwoodenthusiast]

here it is!!! i hope you guys like it fjfkcks (disclaimer: it is set in modern world!)

no time to die - thomastair

(TW: death, mentions of suicide and murder, also for simplicity reasons even though it’s technically iran i called it persia like the book)

➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas turned to Alastair. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” he said, whilst adjusting the shorter man’s suit jacket.

“Thomas, you need not worry so much. You know I’ve been doing this for years- an awards show should be no different.”

Thomas looked at his boyfriend. Boyfriend. It was still strange to even think. It had taken him so long to accept the truth, and even longer to admit his feelings for Alastair. Despite their past, Alastair alongside Anna had been the ones who understood what he was going through and helped him. It was just that, it had taken so long to get him, Thomas was afraid Alastair would disappear.

“I love you. Blow them away, eh?” he said with a wink.

“Oh darling, I always do,” Alastair replied. “Though sometimes I do feel like I’m doing so much that I’ll have no time to die!”

That had been their last conversation. The last words Alastair spoke to Thomas before...it. Even though five years had passed, Thomas kept replaying the night and the events over and over. He still cried about it. The pain had been immense.

The song ends.

Lights go down.

Bang.

Men rushing to the stage. Paramedics running to the scene. People screaming bloody murder. Thomas didn’t believe it. Couldn’t. But there was Alastair, down like a flash and bleeding across the wooden surface. His typically brown skin paling to a sick, deathly colour. He had tried to get across, tried to see what had happened but not only did the men refuse; he was promptly dragged out of the building and sent away.

Something about what happened wasn’t right.

They all claimed Alastair had killed himself onstage; that he’d hidden the gun and used it at lights out. But Thomas knew that wasn’t true; there were no guns in their house, and he would definitely have noticed if Alastair wasn’t feeling okay. No; Thomas was convinced.

He was murdered.

The men hadn’t let him near him, which just convinced Thomas more. And any time he tried to make an attempt to the press, they didn’t listen. They brushed it off as ‘a grief-stricken boyfriend’.

Which was exactly why, five years later on the anniversary of the incident, Thomas Lightwood was sitting in a bar with his cousin Anna.

“Bullshit!”

“Whoa there, where did that come from?” Anna said, offended.

Thomas flushed. “Oh- sorry. Nothing.”

Anna could tell he was lying. Ever since Alastair’s death it had never been the same. Cordelia had been heartbroken; she refused to mention him at all even now. Thomas was the reverse. He was absolutely convinced it wasn’t suicide, but rather murder. He had dedicated the majority of the last five years to trying to find information or any evidence. It was almost heartbreaking to watch. Thomas had been through enough, losing his sister too. Anna was always very protective of her cousin- they used to nickname each other the ‘Gay Defense Squad’ because of how they stuck by and defended each other from anyone who might ‘disagree with their way of life’.

“I know it’s not nothing, ya big idiot. It’s him, isn’t it?”

Thomas sighed. “Yes. It is. I’m sorry, Anna. I really am.”

“You don’t have to be. You lost someone extremely important to you in an awful and tragic way. It takes years to get over that stuff. Especially with poor Barbara. How many years now? 7?”

“Yeah.” Thomas felt his eyes tearing up. The mental pressure to hold everything together was terrible. “Dad’s still- Gideon is still heartbroken. Well, anyone who lost a child would be, but sometimes I see him and I can see how red his eyes are, how pale he is and it’s just not fair. If there was some way, any way to just take all my parents’ pain away I would.”

Anna was thoughtful. “But what about your own? Thomas, you need help. You need someone who’s a therapist; not your cousin.”

Thomas shook. “No, no I don’t need help. I’m not insane, do you think I goddamn am? I’ve spent years trying and trying to find out what happened and look where it’s got me? No. Fucking. Where. I won’t rest.”

Anna Lightwood’s heart tore. Thomas didn’t deserve any of this. She wished he could understand that people didn’t think he was insane; they thought he was in denial. Anna had to admit; she agreed with what Thomas was doing, but there comes a time where you can only do so much, or else you might uncover a truth you might not want to hear.

A slim waiter approached the two, holding a note in his hand. “Hey guys! Sorry to bother you, but there was a man sitting at that table over there and he handed me this note. Pointed to this table and said it was for the dude.” He dropped the folded piece of paper in front of Thomas and sauntered off. Thomas picked the paper up and unfolded it. It read;

324 Blackends Street.

Tomorrow. 8pm.

Anna glanced over. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Thomas replied. “All it says is an address and a time. What could this...mean?”

Anna winked. “Maybe someone’s seen something they like?” she said, to which Thomas glared. “What? Look. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but this could be your big break. Your next step into finding out what happened! I say you go, but leave if the person isn’t there after a few minutes.”

Thomas considered it. He’d waited for a moment like this for so long, yet now that it was a possibility he felt strangely sick. He was anxious and terrified. “Of course, we could be wrong and maybe it’s just someone playing some stupid prank. I’ll give it a chance though. Just in case.”

The cousin duo left and parted ways at the door, Thomas’s stomach sick with a mix of anxiety and excitement. Could he really be about to solve the case? To find out the truth?

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

The whole day, Thomas had been extremely off. Even Christopher had noticed.

“Tom, are you okay?”

“James what have I told you about calling me that-“

“I know, I know. But you’ve been so quiet all day. You seem tense, worried about something. I know it was the anniversary of...that...yesterday. Do you need to talk? You can if you want, you know me, Christopher and Math are all here for you.”

“Look I appreciate it. Yes. I’m just stressed about something that happened when I was out with Anna last night and I can’t figure out what it means or why.”

Matthew came over from where he was sitting. “What is it?”

Thomas handed him the note.

“Ooo is someone involved in a secret little rendezvous? Kidding. Unless?”

Thomas deadpanned. “No, Matthew. No I am not. Although I don’t even know what I’m involved in myself. This waiter gave us this note saying it was for me from a random guy at another table. I don’t know what he wants from me or why, but I’m going.”

James’s eyes narrowed. “No you’re not. I don’t want you getting hurt or anything. None of us know what’s happening.”

Thomas took a breath. “I’m only gonna stay there for five minutes I promise. I’ll call you guys as soon as it’s over or if something goes wrong. Trust me, ‘kay?”

Christopher stopped his reading to look up at his cousin for a brief moment. “Please don’t die,” he said in a worrying tone.

“Kit!! I’ll be fine! Please don’t worry. You just concern yourself with your weird and wonderful world of books.” Thomas notices the way Christopher avoided his gaze. He was very fidgety. He tended to get like this when in stressful situations.

“Group hug,” called James.

➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas breathed in and out slowly to calm his nerves. He was walking towards the building he presumed it was. He knew he should nope the hell out of there, but what was life without a little risking it? He stopped at the right address-

And was promptly yanked through a doorway.

On which he banged his head.

“Okay now if you’re trying to be discreet on kidnapping me it isn’t really working-“

“Oh SHUT up I’m not kidnapping you you daft log.”

Thomas opened his mouth to reply, but he froze where he was standing. That voice, that beautiful voice. The accent with a slightly foreign lilt.

“No...”

The man replied back in a mocking tone. “Yes...”

“...Alastair?”

He flicked the light on, as if to prove it. And it was. The brown skin, the dark hair and eyes, the short yet lean stature. “In the flesh.”

Thomas threw his arms around him. Alastair returned the gesture. The two sobbed into each other’s shoulders for a while, as if their tears were glue holding them together. Alastair moved his head away, but did not dare to release his grip on Thomas. “I suppose I have some explaining to do?”

“I thought- I thought you were dead! You were shot! Wait, was it fake? Was-“

“That’s one thing that was real about the situation. They had intended to kill me but missed my head and hit me,” said Alastair, rolling up his shirt, “here.”

There was a scar on the left side of his chest. It looked painful.

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“Well it’s not really a they, more a he.”

“Then who’s he?”

Alastair stopped for a moment. Thomas could see his fear. Whoever had hurt him this badly deserved death.

“It’s actually- well, my psycho ex. But- you know him.”

“I do? Who the hell is he?”

“Think of Matthew. Did he ever say anything about his brother? About him going away for several days at a time with no explanation?”

“It’s not- no. Your psycho ex, the one who did all this to you, is Charles? Fairchild? The goody-two-shoes who always acted superior to everyone?”

Alastair nodded.

“Dear God! I’ll kill him, I swear to GOD-“

“No Thomas, please. I need to explain what happened. After I was hurt, I was taken straight to wherever Charles lived. The bleeding stopped on its own, but that’s why the wound hasn’t healed as well. I was basically held captive for three years- not allowed out on my own, or left alone in the house. But one day, I did it. I hurt him, Thomas. I beat the hell out of him and didn’t even care. I still don’t.”

“But- you said you were held for three years. It’s been five.”

“I’ve been all around this country. Trying to hide from him.”

Thomas felt hurt. “But why didn’t you just come straight to me? Or Cordelia? She’s been heartbroken ever since, and she refuses to even mention your name now.”

Alastair was desperate. “I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t go there because I thought it would be too obvious. I thought he’d come for one of you, and I couldn’t risk it. But over time, I realised I can’t do this anymore. I decided I was going to move back home- to Persia. Or at least, that I would...if I could do it with you.”

Thomas stood, suddenly angered. “What about my family? My parents?? They’ve already lost one daughter, I doubt they want to lose their son. And my friends??”

“You can visit them! They can come to Persia! It’s just, I will never be safe unless it’s at home,” said Alastair, rushing his words as if he was afraid Thomas would make a run for it. “Please, come with me. I love you, Thomas. I love you and I need you.”

Thomas resigned; he knew what he was going to do.

He leaned down and kissed Alastair; it was as beautiful a moment as it was heartbreaking. Years of pain, now joined together again. Alastair stood up on the tips of his toes and enveloped his fingers in Thomas’s hair. Thomas felt as if the two torn-apart pieces of his heart were knitting themselves back together in that very moment. They broke away from each other, catching their breath more than they thought they needed to.

“You don’t even have to ask twice.”

➰➰➰➰➰➰➰

Thomas informed the others of what was going to happen. No one was pleased, and Sophie was worried, but they made an attempt to understand his situation.

Thomas felt alive for one of the first times in a long time. It was exhilarating and the whole thing was so fun. Part of him worried for his family, but he knew they were safe; it was his duty to protect Alastair.

“I can’t help but feeling that there is not much difference between what we are doing and an elopement,” voiced Alastair, the two together on the plane. Thomas laughed. He put his arm around Alastair, who cuddled in to him as best he could with the awkward aeroplane seats.

“I suppose you’re right. Maybe we’re criminals, and we’re on the run! Or we’re secret lovers, running away to be who we truly are!” he said. The instructions started and the plane began moving. Alastair suddenly felt an odd sinking feeling.

“Are you okay?”

Alastair dismissed the question with a shake of his head and sat up. “I’m fine. It’s just- well we’re leaving so much behind I guess.”

Thomas gripped his hand. “You’re doing what’s right for you, and that’s all that matters.” The stewardesses finished giving their instructions and a new voice came over the plane.

“Hello and good afternoon, this is your pilot speaking!”

“No,” said Alastair. “No no no this can’t be true. He couldn’t have. I-I-,” he froze. He felt his seatbelt in an attempt to open it, but it was jammed. Speechless, he reached over Thomas, who had paled slightly.

His belt was jammed too.

“Alastair- breathe, please you’re going to choke.”

“...please keep your seatbelts absolutely fastened at all times...”

“He found me, Thomas.”

“...because there really...”

“I’m done for.”

“...is...”

Thomas was as speechless as Alastair. He was terrified. For even though they weren’t close, he knew exactly who the voice belonged to.

Charles.

“...no time to die.”

➰➰➰

this is so dramatic i’m sorry but anyways i have a plan for a short prequel (as in, the events leading up to Alastair’s ‘death’) if anyone wants one? and also lmk if you want a sequel 😗✌️

[winchester-writes]

The World You Ruined (Part 1)

Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 861

Warnings: angst :) language, mentions of cheating

A/N: Alright here we go again!! Dang y’all I am on a role with writing!! hahaha Okay so these are requested from mah bestfran @ilikethedisease67 Again I know this is kinda short BUT it is going to be a mini series...not really sure how many parts yet but yeah...I hope y’all enjoy it!! Especially you Steph ;)

Also major thanks to @jerkbitchidjitassbutt for betaing and for also being amazing <3

Tagging just a few who might like (idk probs not lol): @abaddonwithyall, @pada-ackles, @oriona75, @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​, @atc74​, @feelmyroarrrr​, @kittenofdoomage​, @manawhaat​, @mrswhozeewhatsis​

Summary: *Bolded in story* “If lies keep spewing from those lips them I’m walking out that door.”

“Sam...wh-what is this?!”You screeched out after opening the motel room door.

There before you lay your boyfriend, well ex now, with some brunette lying on top of him with his hands gripping her hair. The girl fell to the side with a shriek as he got her off and scurried to his feet, falling on his face as he tried to put his boxers back on, “Shit...Y/N wait! I-I-I have an explanation!”

Scoffing and rolling your eyes, you walked into the room to grab your duffle. Only turning around with fury in your eyes when you heard the door open and slam shut again, letting you know the bitch left.

“Oh please, by all means!” You screamed out while gathering your belongings, “Please Sam, you self-righteous liar, PLEASE tell me your explanation!”

“I-I…” Sam started looking around and fidgeting as he grabbed his t-shirt, not really expecting the yelling that was coming from you. “She meant absolutely nothing to me babe! It was a mistake and I fucked up, please don’t leave me though, I need you!”

“Was that Ruby?” Crossing your arms, you arched an eyebrow as you waited for an answer.

Sam sucked in a quick breath but looked confused at the name, “W-what? W-Who?”

You had caught him talking to someone on the phone named Ruby and when you mentioned the name to Dean earlier, he gladly clarified who she was. A Demon. Sam was running around behind your back with a demon and it just so happens you walk in on them fucking each other the very same day!

“Was that bitch in here, the one that was just on that bed fucking my boyfriend, in case you forgot. Was that... Ruby?” You furiously asked, with your face remaining somewhat neutral.

Watching his face contort as he tried to find an answer was amusing in a way, because he had no explanation for once. The boy who was so good at covering his ass, had no way of doing that now.

“H-How do you-”

Gripping the ends of your hair, you were about ready to kill him. “Oh my God Sam! Was that Ru-”

“YES! Okay?! Yes, it was Ruby!! Fuck, what more do you want?!” Sam screamed out to the heavens with his arms held out wide, “Nothing has ever happened between us before though! I swear to you!”

“Mmmm, so what about the blood drinking?” The words left your lips with ease.

Sam’s mouth fell open, he obviously expected you not to know about that, “Th-The what? I-I’m not drinking any blood babe! What are you talking about?! This is like the second time I’ve met up with her!

“If lies keep spewing from those lips then I’m walking out that door. Just tell me the fucking truth Sam! I’ve been your girlfriend for the past 3 years now, you talk to me about literally everything...why hide this? I could've helped you.” Your voice got gradually smaller as you spoke, the realization that you two were actually over was finally hitting you.

Sam gulped, looking towards the ground and the moment you saw the tears well up in the corners of his eyes, you knew that everything that you were told was in fact true. He was drinking the demon blood and fucking Ruby behind your back. Getting stronger and playing into her plan.

“She’s gonna fuck you over, you know. Have fun with your idiotic plan.”

And with that, you grabbed your duffle and made sure to slam the door in his face.

That night you stole a car and made sure to get as far as possible away from the Winchesters.

It was about 2 years later and the boys ended up in some small town for what appeared to be a simple shifter case. They were currently driving to the Williamson Institute for the Mentally Insane where the deaths have been happening. As they passed by a house with the family all outside enjoying the nice weather. The dad washing the car while mom sat in a lawn chair watching the kids play in the sprinklers. Sam cleared his throat and readjusted himself in his seat. Ever since that night, Sam has tried to find you using every possible source that he could but no results ever came up. He misses everything about you terribly but it seems you didn’t want to be found so he stopped last year, he gave up after Dean told him it was a losing battle. And he didn’t blame you for not wanting to be found, he did you wrong and was going to have to live with the consequences.

Luckily their destination wasn’t too far up the road and the boys were soon parking. After flashing their FBI badges to the woman at the front desk, Dean started doing his charming tactic as Sam started to survey the area and get the layout of the place. As he went to focus on the woman in front of him speaking, he glanced near a window in the corner to his left and just about came out of his skin.

“Y/N…?!”

Part 2

[yourdeepestfathoms]

Emnity and Amnity

She hovers outside the bedroom door for a moment because she isn’t sure whether or not to knock. Even knocking feels inappropriate right now- it implies normality when really, Sue knows, there is nothing normal about this situation.

‘Go ahead. You can knock. She knows you’re here already.’ Miss Desjardin’s voice behind her makes her jump- it isn’t exactly frosty but it isn’t warm either. ‘Go on.’

  Sue taps once, lightly.

  ‘Come in.’ The voice is very quiet and it sounds more resigned than welcoming. Again, she hesitates.

  ‘Go on. You’re here now.’ 

  Yes, Sue is here now- but by circumstance, it feels like, more than by choice.

What had begun as a whisper- What’s happened to Carrie, where is she, where did she go after….?- turned into rumour and gossip. ‘I heard she killed herself, I heard she was expelled, I heard Chris and Billy had the police go to their houses’.

The fact that the last one has turned out to be true only added fuel to the fire.

‘I heard she ran away from home, I heard her crazy mother killed them both, did you see the house is boarded up?, I heard she killed herself, I heard she slit her wrists, I heard, I heard-’

  And then, quite unexpectedly, Tommy turning up at her house. Not I heard but I saw.

  ‘Sue, I saw Carrie. At least, I think I did-’

  He hadn’t sounded too sure but Sue, desperate for news, for hope, had almost shaken every detail out of him. When? Where? For certain? No, of course not for certain, of course not, but- really?

  And then ‘Miss Desjardin? Really?’

  That had been the part of the story that she’d been able to discount right away- it wasn’t like there weren’t other slightly-built dark haired women with a penchant for ponytails and sportswear in the town.

  And yet- hovering on the doorstep, ringing the bell, rehearsing the speech she’d prepared in her head, I’m so sorry to both you but do you know a Carrie White?, the door had opened and she’d found herself staring at her gym teacher (an ex gym teacher is still a gym teacher after all) in stunned surprise.

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Miss Desjardin?’

  ‘Yes.’

  She had offered no explanation and Sue had stammered over her apology. 

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you- I just- Someone said-’

  ‘Yes?’ She’d looked impatient.

  ‘Tommy said he saw Carrie here- through a window. He must’ve been mistaken but I wanted to see if it was true.’

  ‘Why?’

  The cold, hard steady gaze had made her squirm internally.

  ‘To say-’ Sorry had felt such a pitiful, inadequate word, and she had been so distracted by it that it had taken  her a moment to realise the implication. ‘Wait- she’s here?’

  Miss Desjardin had sighed and opened the door wider. ‘You’d best come in.’

  *

  The talk that followed- although Sue mostly listened- was lengthy and intense and full of severe threats as to the sort of painful retribution that would surely follow if Sue did or said anything to ‘hurt’ Carrie, including making any references at all to her mother's death or talking about the encounter to anyone, including Tommy.

  The talk had been so censorious that Sue had been half sure that once it was over, she would find herself returned to the doorstep without seeing Carrier at all… but instead, she’d found herself returned to the hallway to wait while Miss Desjardin went upstairs to let Carrie know Sue had arrived.

  ‘If she doesn’t want to see you, you’ll have to go. I won’t make her talk to you if she doesn’t want to.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘She’s very….fragile, right now.’

  ‘I know.’

  She’d hoped that the agreement would be placating but instead Miss Desjardin had just glared at her. ‘She’s been through a lot. More than you know.’

  Sue had nodded. She didn’t know- but she felt like she was beginning to guess.

  *

  The room is plain and impersonal- like guest bedrooms are- and the only things that mark it out as belonging to Carrie at all are the well-worn bible on the bedside table, the stuffed sheep half hidden by the pillow and girl herself, who is perched stiffly on the edge of the bed.

  She doesn’t look at Sue but that’s not surprising: in fact, Carrie looks just the same as she’s always looked, hunched over on the school benches, eyes on her shoes, making herself as small as possible.

  Sue wonders if it’s her presence that has invoked this, or if Carrie sits the same wherever she happens to be. She rather hopes it’s the latter.

  ‘Hi.’

  Silence.

  ‘I hope you don’t mind. That I came to see you. I just- Tommy-’ She pauses. She isn’t sure if referring to Tommy counts as one of the off limits conversation topics Miss Desjardin had alluded to downstairs- she decides she might as well finish. ‘He thought he saw you and I wanted- we both wanted- to see how you were….’

  She can’t tell if Carrie really does twitch at her mention of Tommy’s name or if it’s just coincidence or her imagination or what.

  ‘Not that everyone is- like, talking about it or anything-’ she hastens to add. She deliberately does not mention what everyone IS talking about ‘And I won’t tell anyone- not that I would but Miss Desjardin- she-’ She finds herself trailing off again. Talking to someone who doesn’t even look at you is so difficult.

  She twists her fingers nervously, trying to find something else to say and failing miserably.

  ‘Rita.’

  Carrie’s voice is very, very quiet, almost a whisper.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She said I could call her Rita. But I can’t.’ Carrie hasn’t raised her head. 

  ‘It must be difficult.’

'She's still Miss Desjardin. And I'm still Praying Carrie.'

Sue opens her mouth to refute it and then closes it again. She feels like if she adds lying to her list of sins against this girl, her own sense of guilt will be simply too much to bear.

'What's it like? Living here?'

‘It’s alright. She's- nice.'

  Sue wishes she could lean forward to get more of a view of Carrie’s hidden face- is it twisted in anguish? Is she relishing the chance to make Sue uncomfortable? Or is she as blank faced as Sue remembers her- impervious and unreacting to everything until she…..wasn’t. 

  ‘She made them give me pills.’

  This throws Sue off a bit. Is Carrie going to reveal their teacher to be some sort of drug-pushing student abducting hustler- and if she does, what on earth is Sue meant to do about it?

  ‘W-what?’

  ‘In the hospital.’ Carrie is talking not as if she expects Sue to keep up but as if she doesn’t care very much either way. ‘When they put in the stitches. She could tell it hurt. They said I wouldn’t feel anything because I couldn’t talk. But she made them. And she stayed. All night. She said it was so they wouldn't forget to give me more.’

  There’s a tiny note of something- pride?- in Carrie’s voice that Sue knows she hasn’t heard before. Pride that someone cared enough to make sure she was given basic anaesthetic? It disturbs her that she finds this easy to believe.

  ‘That’s-’ She wants to say something bland and conciliatory but the nice she intends to say sticks in her throat. Instead she says ‘Why were you in hospital?’

  Carrie doesn’t respond but her hand raises enough to cover the raised square of what Sue realises must be a dressing on her right shoulder. She wants to ask about it but she knows this definitely would be veering into forbidden topics and she's a bit too afraid of Miss Desjardin to risk it.

  She glances around the room for something- anything- else to say. ‘Tommy could- come help with that.’ She nods to the closet door, off its hinges and leaning against the wall.

  Carrie raises her head for the first time, looking at Sue uncomprehendingly. ‘With what?’

  ‘The- the door. He could put it back on if you-’

  A very faint ghost of a smile plays on Carrie’s lips and Sue wonders what she’s said wrong.

  ‘What?’

  ‘She took it off on purpose.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘So I can’t ever be shut inside. Even by mistake. Ever.’

  ‘Why would you-’ Then Sue understands what she means, or at least, she gets an idea of what Carrie means, understands too the sort of things that would happen to a person to make their mind go to this sort of place. ‘Oh Carrie. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I didn’t know that Chris- I mean, I knew about some stuff but not that she, that they-’

  ‘It wasn’t Chris.’

  ‘Oh.’ She feels sickened. ‘Carrie, you should have-’ 

  Told someone. The words die on her lips as Carrie looks at her straight in the eye: an unspoken challenge, Who?

  ‘I’m sorry.’ She can feel herself starting to cry, even as she tries not to. ‘I’m sorry. Oh god Carrie I’m sorry, I’m so sorry- I- We did such awful things to you and- Oh god, I’m sorry- I wasn't part of it, you know, I didn't know what they were going to do but still- I should have done more, I should have helped, I should have-’

She chokes on her tears and Carrie watches. She doesn’t offer Sue a tissue and this also is not a surprise because, Sue thinks, when did she or anyone ever do that for Carrie? She and the others forced her to live in a world without compassion and now Carrie has none to spare for her.

  But she knows even as she thinks it that it too is a disservice- it’s too grandiose, a little too perfect as a metaphor, the sort of thing her English teacher would underline and tick in a Creative Writing task. Well Done. Good Use of Symbolism. 

  Really, she and everyone else treated Carrie White like shit, and she doesn’t deserve to see poetic justice in Carrie being less than moved by her own histrionics.

  There’s a light tap on the door and Miss Desjardin opens the door, her expression set- although she does a double take when she registers that it’s Sue in tears. She obviously was expecting something different.

  ‘Is everything alright?’

  They both nod.

  Despite the assurance, Miss Desjardin still eyes Sue suspiciously, while laying a protective hand on Carrie’s shoulder. She doesn’t flinch, Sue notices- she almost seems to lean into the touch.

  ‘Ok?’

  Carrie nods again and Miss Desjardin reluctantly goes back to the hallway.

'I'm just outside if you need me.'

She leaves.

  ‘She said I didn’t have to see you.’

  Sue dries her face on her sleeve and gets control of herself. ‘Why?’

  She means Why did you? not Why wouldn’t you want to see me? but Carrie obviously takes her to mean the latter.

  ‘I don’t like thinking about it. Or about anything. I still do but-’ Carrie glances back down quickly. ‘I dream about it sometimes.’

  ‘About-’

  ‘The blood. The smell of it. And- about that day. In the showers. About lots of things.’ Carrie’s voice is even quieter now and Sue has to stay very still to make out her words, then wishes she hadn’t. ‘I dream about- about the moment it hit me. I could taste it. Have you- ever tasted blood?’

  Sue shakes her head.

  ‘It made me sick. It still makes me sick, if I think I taste it, even if I know I’m dreaming-’ She pauses. ‘Miss Desjardin never even gets angry.’

  ‘She doesn’t?’

  ‘She does but- not at me.’ Carrie raises her head again. ‘I can tell even when she doesn’t say. I can feel her shaking when she’s helping me clean up and I know it’s because she’s angry.’

  ‘With- with me?’ 

  ‘With everyone.’

  It’s nothing more than Sue deserves, she knows it- and she’s glad too, to hear that Carrie seems to have found herself the most unexpected of allies- but it also makes her realise the magnitude of everything.

  How can she possibly hope to make up for it? How can she make up for anything? It’s hopeless, it’s futile, it’s stupid to even imagine that she could, that her presence could so anything other than hurt. 

  She should leave, she knows she should- but just as she makes up her mind to do so, Carrie shifts slightly on the bed.

  ‘You can sit down if you want.’

  It’s the flimsiest of invitations but it also means everything. 

  So she does.

[chenle-dressed-in-black]

baldrs, neos, and kangs~  pt.1

     NCT mafia au with my own oc named Kang Sooyoung, who is a young girl born into one of the coldest mafias of them all. She’s trying to live on her own and cut ties with her family, but with everyone either looking out for her or waiting to kill her, it’s a lot harder than it sounds. 

     relevant people in this story who will appear a lot (every nct member appears at some point): johnny suh, dong sicheng, nakamoto yuta, and kim doyoung

warnings: language

word count: 1.6k

m.list

series m.list

     Sooyoung picks up her phone each time it rings, which is admittedly a bad habit she should start working on. “Hello?” 

     Her cousin, Gwen, mouths a question at her. Who is it? She’s sprawled across her purple velvet, four-poster bed. Her bare feet hang off the side of the bed lazily. She looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world, so nothing new there.

     “Are you even home?” It’s Sicheng, but Sooyoung should’ve expected that. “You’re not, are you?”

     He sounds irritated, which puzzles her. Gwen makes a face at her across the room. Sooyoung’s confused silence is enough to propel Sicheng into an exasperated explanation. “We’re going to the new Chinese restaurant tonight. You promised we could.” 

     “Oh.” She feels like shit. Gwen shakes her head and theatrically puts her hands on her forehead in feigned disapproval, but not surprise. Her thick, wavy hair doesn’t move with the gesture. “I completely—”

     “You forgot.” Sicheng steals the words right out of her mouth flatly. “You’re with your cousin, who’s having an emotional breakdown, so it completely slipped your mind. You’re really sorry, but we can do it another night next week.” 

     Sooyoung frowns, but she’s hopeful. “We can?”

     “No,” he deadpans. “I’m going home next week like I do every year the first week of spring.” 

     Gwen gracefully stands up, walking over to her cousin, who’s standing in the middle of the room on a plush fake-animal rug. Holding out her hand for the phone, she waits until a reluctant Sooyoung gives it over. Gwen takes a deep breath. “It’s not Sooyoung’s fault my boyfriend dumped me, Sicheng,” she says in a perfectly calm, sultry voice. “You know she’ll make it up to you.” 

     There’s a huff. “I know you’re family, but I don’t understand why Sooyoung is the one who has to solve all of your problems.” 

     “I’ll let that slide, lover boy.” Sooyoung’s eyes goes wide at that comment, but Gwen just shrugs her off. “I’m giving the phone back to the nice Kang now.”

     Sooyoung claws at the phone, shoving it back up to her ear. “I promise we’ll find another time. I’m not blowing you off.” 

     “Okay.” He’s clearly impartial at best and deeply upset at the worst. “Whatever you say. Gwendolyn should learn how to solve problems herself. She’s supposed to be the one who looks after you.” 

     Sicheng is gone before she can say anything. Sooyoung tosses the phone onto a plush chair, flopping down onto her cousin’s bed. She screams into the blanket. This marks the third time she has postponed the restaurant outing with him. Neither time before was intentional. The first time, Gwen came down with the stomach flu while her parents were off doing a black-market bypass surgery in Indonesia, so there was no one else but Sooyoung to take care of her. When Sicheng heard, he offered to bring soup and stay to help, but Gwen said she would rather die than let that boy see her with sweat matting her long black waves to her forehead and laugh at her with his dyed hair and evil eyes. 

     They don’t get along well. Obviously. Anyway, the excuse Gwen used to keep Sooyoung in the clear this time was the same as last time. Except she was the one who dumped her terrible boyfriend. That didn’t stop her from sobbing into Sooyoung’s shoulder all night, though. 

     Now, the third time around, Gwen’s not-so-ex-boyfriend cut ties with her again. Trouble and bad consequences are stray dogs she shouldn’t have fed. They follow her everywhere. Sooyoung was honestly not completely sure what was happening between Gwen and Yuta. She dumped him, but then he showed up at her apartment in sobs and begged for one more chance. She agreed, of course. Gwen’s parents reached out to Sooyoung immediately, urging her to convince their reckless daughter to leave that troublesome Neo boy once and for all. So, Yuta ended things with her again, apparently. She isn’t sure how Gwen and Yuta can even keep up. 

     It’s also Wednesday, which means that Sooyoung cannot go to her apartment. Sicheng knows everything about her, but not this. “No wonder he hates me,” says Gwen wistfully. “I’d hate me to if I were him. Me and my relationship problems are such a cock-blocker.” 

     “He was really upset.” Sooyoung sighs. “I feel bad.”

     “Of course he’s upset. The love of his life keeps ditching him for her rash cousin. And Sicheng has to spend his week being told he’s a coward for not killing more people.” 

     “I wish you wouldn’t make a joke out of his feelings. It’s really not fair,” replies Sooyoung. “I’m not what most people would call , ‘emotionally available.’”

     Gwen snaps her fingers. “But you should be, because we both know that Johnny left to go all Neo City. He’s not coming back, sweetie. I love you, but it’s the truth.” 

     “We don’t know if that’s what happened,” she says weakly, because she knows that is exactly what happened. 

     “You need to let him go.” Gwen puts a gentle hand on Sooyoung’s shaking shoulder. “The way Sicheng has. Johnny’s ignoring the most wonderful girl he’ll ever know and ditching the most annoying best friend he ever had. I’ll tell you what’s going on: Johnny Suh is an asshole.”

     While she makes self-destructive choices in her own personal life, she is extremely gifted at advising others. Right now, Sooyoung is being reprobated by the offender. “You’re one to talk about letting go.”

     Gwen drops her brown hand, returning it to her side as her expression goes cold. “At least I’m not delusional.” She’s staring hard at her cousin, black eyes afire. “I’m trying to help, but you wanna deflect everything to me.” 

     “Maybe someone should!” Sooyoung, who never yells, is screaming at the top of her lungs. “All you do is tell me to get over Johnny, but you’re still sleeping with Yuta!” 

     “If you don’t truly let him go soon,” says Gwen slowly, “I fear how much he will hurt you, in the end. Look what he’s done to you already. I can’t even blame him for this anymore; it’s just you.”

     The way she stays so collected after being insulted makes Sooyoung want to scream even louder. Does nothing bother you? That’s what she wishes she could yell, but suddenly she feels afraid that she won’t be able to control whatever comes out of her mouth if it opens again. She’s taken aback by herself. Before she can think once about it, Sooyoung is spinning on her heels and running out of the apartment. 

     Once she is gone, Gwendolyn stands in the middle of her bedroom for a long time without moving an inch. She’s stunned, frankly. That didn’t seem like Sooyoung at all. If anything, the person she who just screamed at her reminds her of Hyeyoung. And, for god’s sake, that is not a good thing. A buzzing sound yanks her out of her thoughts, sending her over to the nightstand. Her eyes take over her face. It’s Hyeyoung who’s calling her, which only has one explanation: somebody died. 

     “What happened?”

     But Gwen isn’t the one who asks, which worries her more, for some reason. She’s already looking for shoes. “What are you talking about?”

     “She’s not homeless, is she?” Hyeyoung inquires manically. “No way, because you’d let her stay with you. So what’s going on?” 

     Having secured a pair of combat boots, Gwen is tearing through her messy walk-in in search of her favorite leather coat. “That’s a great question. Here’s another one: why the hell did you call me?” 

     “I miss you, too, cousin.” 

     Gwen’s heading for the door now. “Answer the question.”

     “Sooyoung passed out in the middle of the street.” There’s accusation in her voice that Gwen doesn’t like one bit. “It looked like she was having a hard night and I’m betting you know why.” 

     “Where did you take her?” asks a jogging Gwen. “. . . Unless you left her there.” 

     “Of course I didn’t!” cries Hyeyoung. “I brought her home, obviously.”

     As she is about to reach a taxi, she cannot resist. “You mean your parents’ house?” 

     “Where else? That’s Sooyoung’s home! You need to watch out before—”

     With a carefree laugh, Gwen says, “Don’t threaten me, darling.” 

     She hangs up before Hyeyoung can scream into the phone like a death-metal vocalist. Someone is calling her name behind her; she spins. “Sicheng?” 

     He stops running once he’s caught up to her. “I need to talk to Sooyoung.”

     The taxi has already been taken by another passenger and it speeds by. Gwen’s heading toward another with him on her tail. “She’s not here.” 

     “Was she lying earlier?” he asks, his nose wrinkling in confusion. “But I heard your voice on the phone.” 

     And he trusts Sooyoung, but Sicheng doesn’t need to speak for either of them to know that. “We got into a fight and she left.”     

     “Is she at her apartment? I really need to see her.”

     Gwen is unphased by his urgency, since she matches it. “She’s at my aunt and uncle’s. Apparently she fainted in the street. I’m going to see her right now; this is all my fault.” 

     Sicheng, who does not commonly pass up a free opportunity to make a jab at the contentious girl, only asks: “Can I come with you?” 

     Opening the backseat of a taxi, Gwen shrugs. “I can’t stop you.” She scoots over to make room for him. After a few minutes, she clears her throat. “I need you to promise me something, though.” 

     Sicheng nods for her to continue.

     “As soon as we know she’s okay, you have to help me get her out of there. Hopefully before she wakes up; Sooyoung is gonna freak the fuck out if she sees her family. I don’t know how much she’s told you about what happened—”

     “Sooyoung didn’t tell me anything about why she left.”

     “Trust me on this,” Gwen pleads. “The faster she’s out, the better.”

     “Okay,” he declares, meeting her eyes. “I’ll help you.” 

series m.list

[mikisworls]

AN: this is my first time writing a fan fiction so bare with me.I hope you enjoy

warnings: much angst, Sexual Assault, attempted suicide

Listen Before I go By Billie Eilish 🥲

pairing: Harry Styles X !FEM!reader 

Harry has been on tour for months, five months to be more specific. a lot can change in that amount of time, trust especially.

“I've missed you my angel,” Harry said from the doorway, bags dropped to his feet as he walked over to you to hold you in his arms.

You flinched away from his touch. He backs away, understanding the shake in your hands. you don’t want to be held.

Did he do something wrong? what happened in those five months that would have made you flinch away from him? Was it his fault? The answer was no, it wasn’t his fault he didn’t know. You never told him, how was he supposed to know.

He could see on your face something was off. a few seconds maybe 20 had passed before either of you spoke again. “What’s wrong, What happened?” your eyes start to water, you two have been together for two years but have known each other since sophomore year of high school.

He told you everything, from what bothered him that day or what made him so overwhelmed with joy it didn’t matter he always told you about it, but you were more closed off than him. Sure you told him about your day and he already knew everything about you, that’s what he thought at least.

“It's nothing, really i just missed you and didn’t expect you to be home.” that wasn’t it and he knew it. He’s too good at reading you. “That’s not it and we both know that, what is it lovie.”

The truth was, he called you. the guy who ruined your life. Made you feel like you didn’t deserve love. the man who fucked you up so bad you could hardly live. not safely at least.

“Jace called me.” you mumbled under your breath, it was barely audible but he heard you. “Jace as in your Ex? What did he want.” “He just called to mess with me.”

Technically that was the truth, just not all of it. “There’s more, isn’t there. you can tell me.” god you don’t deserve harry, he’s too good for you.

“There's some things I haven't told you, but I think I'm ready.” you look him in the eyes and pull him to the couch. “Now before i say this i don’t want you to get upset, it was a long time ago. Jace wasn’t only an Ex, he did things to me, not exactly good things.”

you had to stop for a few seconds to catch your breath, you were crying? When did you start crying? when will you stop. “It's okay lovie take your time.” harry said as he put a hand on your back, instead of flinching away you melted into his touch, it calmed you. “ He, uh he would make me do things. things you wouldn’t even believe.”

To say Harry was angry would be the understatement of the century. He was shaking, his face was beet red. You could tell he was trying to stay calm for your sake but it wasn’t working.

This time you leaned into him asking to be held. That's how you stayed for the rest of the night, tangled with him. Assuming you feel asleep and he carried you to your room.

When you woke up the bed was empty. Was it a dream? you heard the sink running in the bathroom, harry was brushing his teeth. He’s home, “some welcome home present” you thought to yourself. Telling your overprotective boyfriend about the guy who raped you the day he gets home. Not even a welcome home.

“good morning angel, I have a few meetings today just to wrap up tour stuff. I should be home around 3:00pm then we can do whatever you want to do.” it’s 9:00am now. “alright do you want breakfast?” “No thank you i’m already late, but thank you. i’m leaving in a few and have some stuff to do downstairs but i love you and i’ll see you tonight, call me if you need anything.” “love you too, have a good day.”

you're such an asshole. He just got home and the first thing you do is make him feel like he did something wrong. He was gone for five months and not even an I love you. god your pathetic. Why is he still with you. He doesn’t deserve to be treated with such disrespect, especially from you. “I agree, he doesn’t” your thoughts get the best of you and you spend at least an hour just sitting on the shower floor, just thinking, contemplating.

That’s it, you get up from the shower floor turn off the water and cry off. Your wearing one of his hoodies and som shorts. the pen in your hand is shaking more than you are. you write nonetheless.

Harry, my sweet harry. my love for you is larger than life. i don’t want you to think this was your fault, it’s not. if anything you prevented this from happening a long time ago. but my time is up, god i hope you aren’t the one to find me. i’m so sorry i had to do this to you. I'm sorry I had to hold you back all this time. i hope now that i’m gone you won’t have anything stopping you from greatness, more greatness than you already have. I love you. but i can’t keep living this life. it hurts. more than you'll ever know. I don't want you to stop living because of me. i won’t ask much of you for now but can you take care of Rajah? She needs to be fed while I'm gone. take care of yourself. don’t let me be the reason we meet again. but hey when it is your time in 50 years i’ll tell you if there’s a heaven like i’ve always wanted to know. but please know, this isn’t your fault, it’s mine really. goodbye my love

il mio amore per te va di mondo in mondo, ti amo più della vita.

-Y/N

and with that it was done, you grabbed your bottle of prozac in your shaking hands and that was it.

HARRY’S POV

I forgot to tell Y/N I was coming home for lunch but consider it a little surprise. “Y/N, darling i’m home for lunch, what do you have in mind?” when he got no reply he began to worry. He walked the halls searching for his love. when he walked into your shared room he saw you… laying there. limp.

the color drained from his face as he sprinted to you collapsing on top of you. He frantically shook you, trying desperately to get any sort of response, all he got was a low grunt. He looked at your hand, pills. He pulled up his phone and dialed 911 as fast as his mind allowed “911 what’s your emergency?” she sounds too cheerful for this situation “please it’s my girlfriend i just got home and she was on the floor barely responding, i think she tried to kill herself!” “does she have a pulse? what’s the address?” “she has a pulse but it’s weak, the address is 1794 on 64th ave. hurry” the line went silent on the other end for a few seconds “alright sir we have the address someone will be there as soon as 2 minutes” “she doesn’t have 2 minutes, hurry please.”

When the paramedics arrived your pulse was barely there, low and shallow breaths in your lungs. Harry was in the ambulance as they put your IV in and out you in oxygen. after they got to the hospital he wasn’t allowed in the room until they were sure you were ready for visits. a nurse had been giving him updates her name was sarah. Sarah told him to go home, shower grab some clothes, it took time but he did. That’s when he saw the note. He broke. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t move. “il mio amore per te va di mondo in mondo, ti amo più della vita.” he thought of you when you two went to italy for your anniversary, you remembered. it means “my love for you goes from world to world, I love you more than life.”

when he got back to the hospital Sarah said you were better, still haven’t woken up yet but your healing nonetheless. They called your mother and she said he could be put on the emergency list so he could be with you when you wake up. That's exactly what he did, he sat there right beside you for a week until you woke up.

Y/N POV

It was bright, too bright for your eyes. You turned over but when you felt someone touching your hand you saw harry. He’s asleep, how long has it been, he thinks you're pathetic. He doesn’t, he’s been crying, his cheeks are red and tear stained. He’s waking up. “Hey lovie, are you alright? How are you feeling? Can I get you anything?” he seemed genuinely concerned, it was hard to answer but you managed to get a few words out “I’m fine right now, where am I?” he looked at you in a way that asked you if you were being serious, you were. “Where at the hospital, you took a bunch of pills but I got to you in time.”

“Hey Y/N, my name is Sarah, i’m your nurse, how are you feeling hun?” “i feel fine, a little drowsy.” i couldn’t really tell you what happened after that, everything’s a bit fuzzy but she kept asking questions. Harry’s eyes never left me.

~time skip to when they get home because it’s late and i need to sleep~

Harry’s hand was on my knee the whole ride home like he was afraid I would evaporate if he let go. When we pulled into the driveway he opened the door for me and offered me a hand, I took it and thanked him. He hasn’t really asked as many questions as I thought he would.

When we got inside he dropped our bags by the door, went to the kitchen and grabbed some water. He walked back into the living room where you were sitting, he sat the glass of water on the table next to you.

He sat on the couch beside you, you basically threw yourself onto him has tears gushed down your face staining his dark blue t-shirt, he wrapped his arms around you and held you as you spewed out apology’s one after another “I’m so sorry, i’m so selfish, you shouldn’t have to deal with shit like this.” he cut you off before you could say anything else with a soft kiss. It has been so long since you two have just kissed.

he leaned back so you could lay on top of him. you fell asleep to harry whispering “i love you” over and over in your ear.

when you woke up harry was playing with your hair, once you woke up a bit more you spoke up. He deserves an explanation “Harry, you deserve an explanation. It was never your fault, just with jace calling me and the things he said-``''what did he say?” “uh he uh told me to w-watch myself and that no one not even you, who he called some other fuck up, can protect me from him. i was scared and confused and i didn’t know how to handle it but the things he did to me fucked me up and i don’t want that again.” “ it’s alright baby really i’m not mad, he can’t hurt you anymore, i’m here. that bastard will be in a grave before he lays another hand on you”

An: tell me how you liked it, might fuck around and make a part two idk yet but im going to bed i love you