#maybe. maybe i should scan my paintings instead of taking photos of them with my phone and slightly tweaking it

[ur-stepdad]

kristen and gorgug hang out to try and de-stress. it does not work

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 04 | Patch Notes | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst, humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 15.1K

Last time on SR03: You joined a gym to increase your confidence and things progressed the way you want with your tinder match. You ended up in an unlikely competition with your friends when you went new bar together, leading to some unexpected conversations and shenanigans.

CW & Other Tags: Drinking, anxiety/panic attack mentions, muscle tearing injury mention, fuckboy Jungkook, pining, flirting, pick-up lines, sexual tension, Joonie is still Y/N’s best boi, soft Jungkook

Series: Activate your SIMCard

Fic: Swipe Right (4/?- Ongoing)

Do not repost.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

When’s the last time you felt as good as you do right now? Jungkook has pretty much stopped bothering you since that night at Seesaw, your date with Jason went well, and you’ve been sticking to your early morning workouts. You definitely don’t push yourself as much as trainer Hwasa, and you know you should really take advantage of the free trial, but it was overwhelming to take in so much at once and the session made you sore all over for days.

At least your stamina seems to be improving and you’ve discovered post-workout endorphins are real. Tonight is your second date with Jason, a date you’ve uncharacteristically elected to host at your apartment. You can place some blame on those endorphins for your boldness, with pining and disappointment composing the rest of it.

While your first date ended without a kiss, there was enough flirting to keep you hopeful. Neither of you were brave enough to do anything about it then, but you’ve mentally coached yourself into pretending like you have an unbreakable spine with nerves of steel. Meeting him only solidified your attraction, and you’ve resolved to take the lead, even though you feel like you have no idea what you’re doing.

It’s not like you often make the first move, but your confidence in him to do so has waned. You’ve been talking and playing games together online for months without any physical touch. Despite how he’s said he likes you and wants to see you again, you’d still be waiting if you didn’t suggest today.

You’re determined to show him what he’s missing by being a recluse. That’s why you’ve picked out the sluttiest clothes and the strappiest heels you own, decorated your face with expensive makeup, and even styled your hair instead of just letting it do whatever it wants for the day. You check yourself out in the full-length mirror on your bedroom door for the millionth time and pull down on the hem of your dress like it will somehow magically grow longer.

You don’t need the heels; no part of the night calls for them. You’re going to be sitting on the couch with him. If you’re lucky you’ll even move it to the bedroom you spent so much time cleaning. But they’re cute and they make you feel sexy, so you’re going to keep them on until he’s peeling you out of your dress.

Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you have to pretend like they’re not there or you’ll fixate on how hard you’re trying to be confident and cool. You’ll fall apart when it’s obvious to Jason how hard you’re pretending to be everything you aren’t. Checking your phone doesn’t help; it’s almost time.

Taking a deep breath, you pace through the confines of your apartment as you wait, and answer group texts from Jennie and Namjoon. You offer up a selfie, hoping any compliments will build your confidence enough to stave off the anxiety in your gut. A few devil emojis later, some keysmashing, and more than a couple hamfisted compliments from Namjoon, your ego is adequately inflated but you can always use more hyping. Maybe you should send it to Jimin to fish for more compliments? He’d indulge you for sure.

Instead you flop on the couch and open Tinder. According to Jennie, Jason is stringing you along; it’s been months, but you hate to admit that she has a point. So you don’t. She’s been telling you for a while now that she thinks you should pursue other suitors. While you object to her assumptions, she has more experience with this kind of stuff. It’s not exactly something you want to believe, not when you’ve put in so much effort for literal months.

You want to believe in Jason being awkward and dorky and that’s why it’s taken so long for the two of you to hook up. He’s shy and super introverted, but so are you. So why are you the only one trying to make things happen? You want to believe, but at this point you’re uncertain enough to heed Jennie’s advice and keep swiping any time you find yourself in a situation where you’re waiting on him. Like now.

You have your reservations about swiping while you wait for your date to begin, but you can practically hear Jennie cheering you on. He’s late anyway, and it will keep you busy until he arrives. You open the discovery tab and swipe left on a couple incomplete profiles. Most of the guys on here don’t put in any effort. How are you supposed to want to give any of them a chance when you don’t even get a tiny snapshot of who they are?

When you pass on yet another fish pic profile, a blue frame appears around the next guy in line. It takes a moment for your brain to register the name along with the duck-faced photo as someone familiar.

[Jungkook said: Your legs remind me of oreos 🥴 wanna know why?]

How fucking dare he? You match with the intent to ream him out and leave.

You: I told you not to fucking find me on here

It takes only a few seconds before you see the dots move on his end, like he was waiting for the moment you would answer, and it keeps you tethered to the conversation.

Jungkook: Princess!! I couldn’t help myself how are you

Jungkook: Surprised you didn’t block me

You: Don’t worry I’m gonna

Jungkook: it’s bc you wanna know huh

You: ???

Jungkook: Your legs

Jungkook: Like oreos

Jungkook: I wanna split them n lick the cream from the center 😜

Electricity rumbles in your gut, carrying heat and a surge of excitement to your cunt that threatens to flood your panties. You swallow hard and squeeze your thighs together as you stare at the screen. Embarrassed by the response his antics elicit, you scramble to formulate a coherent thought.

You: I wish I could unread 🤢

Jungkook: Aw but that’s one of my favorites

Jungkook: Just like you 😘

You: 🙄

You: I hate you so much

Jungkook: So much that you matched with me?

You stare at the message like a clever response will come to you and when it doesn’t you bite your lip. He’s got a point. Haven’t you learned your lesson not to encourage him? Your eyes scan the top of your phone for any notifications from Jason. Nothing. At least this is keeping you distracted. That’s what you tell yourself.

Jungkook: You’re still here which means 👀

You: It means I’m tired

Jungkook: Of?

You pause for a moment. Namjoon and Jennie can’t know how anxious you are about Jason. It’s the guy’s last strike with them and he hasn’t even met them yet. Jungkook, an impartial third party, might be able to lend an ear. As much as you don’t care what he thinks, you need an outlet for the anxiety in your chest. You start to draft a word-vomit. Jason has been so hesitant to see you in person again and now he’s late. Maybe if you just put it out there to someone you’ll feel better.

Jungkook: If you need to sleep how about a massage?

Jungkook: I’m good with my fingers 🥴

Stupid. In what universe could you confide in Jungkook? Deleting your word-vomit before you can send it, you start to type something else, but your thumb accidentally taps enter at the exact wrong moment.

You: You know what? I want you

FUCK. Goddamn you, sausage fingers.

You scramble to rewrite the sentence but Jungkook is quicker. He has to know it was an accident, but you’re still fucking mortified.

Jungkook: 😈

Jungkook: My place

Jungkook: Ten minutes

You: *to stay off my profile

Jungkook: 👉👌?

You: YOU KNOW I DIDN’T MEAN THAT

You: 🤢🤢🤢

Jungkook: 😩

Jungkook: Now you’re just playing games with me princess

Jungkook: Can’t say I mind just fuck me up 🥴

You: Don’t you have a princess to fuck in another castle? Maybe she can stroke your tiny ego

Jungkook: Ouch felt that from here

He goes quiet and you close the conversation out. Setting the phone down on the cushion beside you lasts all of two seconds. When your phone buzzes twice, you know better than to answer, yet you feel compelled to look.

Jungkook: Hey quick question

Jungkook: Is this the most you’ve used the app to talk with someone you like? 👻

Just like that you unmatch with him and take a moment to seethe. Distraction or no, he’s not worth the mental energy. He always seems to draw you in like a pretty little thirst trap and drain you of your sanity. Not engaging is the safest option so why do you always end up doing so? Maybe it’s that shitty little part of you that gets excited any time he shows you attention.

There’s a gullible girl within you; she sets your pulse on fire when he feigns even the slightest interest, fills your head with wind when he brushes against you, and floods your eyes with tears when he walks away. Still, she wants him to look at you, even if it means he’s really looking through you. You hate her. Why can’t she learn that you deserve better?

You check the time again and wince. Jason is really late now. Not even a text. Or a phone call. Maybe it’s traffic?

Try to relax. Nothing bad is going to happen. You’re going to have fun tonight.

You start up a game to take your mind off the options available to explain his absence. When you’re invested in a game you often lose track of time, but tonight you’re hyper-aware of every minute that passes. You bite at your freshly painted nails during loading screens, chipping the red from their edges. Sounding casual is difficult when you’re worried, but you attempt it anyway via text. It’s ten more agonizing minutes of waiting before your phone buzzes with an answer.

The controller drops to your lap and immediately tears begin to sprinkle your thighs with the manifestation of your heartache.

He forgot.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

An earthy scent fills Namjoon’s apartment as he carefully transfers the last of his plants to a bigger pot, filling in the edges of its roots with fresh soil and patting the edges down with care. His plants have needed this, maybe even more than he needs the mini hangout that will soon follow. The kitchen table is covered in dirt, but at least he’s almost done.

It’s not his fault Jungkook showed up earlier than expected. At least he’s quiet now. It’s been a while, but he’s finally stopped asking about how much longer it will take, so he must either be invested in the show he put on or asleep on the couch.

“Almost done,” Namjoon loudly announces. “Can you text Tae?”

“Kay.” Jungkook yawns as he stands and heads towards the bathroom. “Jin was already cooking when I left so it should be ready soon.”

“Good. I’m hungry,” Namjoon says, carefully transporting the plant to the desk in his bedroom.

As he’s on his way to clean up the mess on the table there’s a soft rapid knock at the front door. The moment he opens it and finds you standing before him, he knows something is wrong. Even the ratty hoodie covering your shoulders can’t hide the effort you’ve obviously put into your appearance tonight. While your makeup seems to have fared rather well, your eyes are red and your cheeks are puffy. His mind automatically assumes the worst about your second date and his jaw tightens.

“What happened? Did he hurt you?”

“He never showed.” You throw your arms around him and openly sob.

“Oh, Y/N…” His arms are around you in an instant, hugging you close while keeping his dirty fingers at bay.

You press your cheek against his chest, letting the tears fall freely. “I’m sorry. I know you probably have plans tonight, but I wanted to stop here—” You choke out a loud sob and wipe your nose with your sleeve as you look down at the floor. “I didn’t want to drive upset but you weren’t answering and I just—”

“Shit. Exam today. I left it on silent.” He pats his pocket to make sure it’s still there, wiping as much dirt as he can on his jeans before placing his hands on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. Deep breaths.”

Jungkook emerges from the bathroom quietly with a furrowed brow and pursed lips. Did he hear your voice or is it his imagination? Unsure if you’re some wishful remnant of earlier texts, he peeks around the corner.

Heels: black, strappy heels with a velvety smooth red undersole. Has he ever seen you in heels? If he has, it’s never been something as flashy as these. His gaze travels up the smooth, exposed skin of your legs until it hits the hem of a skirt. The dark fabric seems a little short; it clings to your thighs, riding up as you embrace his friend. It’s hard not to notice how well it accents the curve of your hips and more importantly: your ass. He’s definitely never seen you in something so revealing, not even on nights where you’ve joined them for dancing.

He pauses for a fraction of a second, eyes trained on the swell of your ass before moving up to find the disappointing sight of your favorite hoodie barring much else from view. Namjoon’s arms outline your shape, but the places his hands rest are far too respectable to glean much else other than simple blueprints.

With his dick leading his steps, Jungkook opens his mouth to announce his presence with a joke. He means to selfishly steal a glimpse of your entire ensemble with some snarky comment but you choke out a sob and his stomach lurches to form a whirlpool of apprehension. His mouth remains open, but his words are swallowed back into the dark swirling pit that now wrenches his gut in circles.

Namjoon looks up just in time to read the confusion and shock on his features. He shakes his head and cups yours against his chest, wordlessly signaling Jungkook to keep quiet.

“Is there anything I can do? Do you wanna talk about it?” Namjoon asks, hoping you don’t see the man behind you slowly backing away like he’s just approached a rabid animal.

You’re sobbing. Why are you sobbing? What happened? Was it what he said before you unmatched? Jungkook tiptoes back into the kitchen without a word. He leans against the counter and shoves his hands in his coat pockets, trying to piece everything together. Did he cause this?

You screw your eyes shut to try to keep the tears inside. It’s no use. They always seem to find a way out. “He didn’t show up and when I texted him, he… he said he forgot."

“What?"

“I thought it would be good after the arcade date, you know? Like, good chemistry. He’s weird. I like him! He seemed interested and we made these plans and he just—” you choke out another loud sob. “God. Am I really so fucking forgettable?”

You wanted your friends to be wrong so badly that you ignored the fact that it’s been like pulling teeth trying to get Jason to meet up again. For him to forget completely is like a kick to the face that leaves all the teeth intact, maybe a little bloody, but stubbornly intact.

“Y/N, no. It’s not your fault. You deserve better than this fucking guy.”

Jungkook swallows hard. This definitely doesn’t feel like a conversation he should be hearing, but it’s loud enough to carry through the entire apartment. Kitchen, bedroom, or bathroom: his options are limited, but he knows there’s nowhere to go to pretend like he can’t hear it. It’s not like he can just walk out the front door now.

“Do I? It’s seems like a fucking pattern, Joon. I fall for people so easily and they always make me feel like an idiot for trying. Donghyun. Seojun. Jason. Jungkook… It doesn’t matter. No one fucking wants me.”

Jungkook tenses. He may not know all the names on your list, but his is among them all the same. Has he really hurt you so much?

“Hey… Don’t think like that,” Namjoon says, his voice soft as he rubs your back. “You know your worth, and it’s not measured by how well someone else can see it.”

Every time you think you’re done crying, fresh tears begin to roll down your cheeks. “I’m tired, Joonie.”

“I know. I’m sorry. We'll get you home."

As you step back to look at him your ankle rolls, and you begin to fall. Hearing the scuffle, Jungkook winces and peeks around the corner. Namjoon has a good enough grip to stop you from fully tumbling to the floor, but you’re definitely not stable by any means.

Although you now face Jungkook, you’re too distracted by your ankle to notice the extra pair of eyes on you. He allows himself to stupidly linger within your line of sight, raking his gaze across your form to take in the details of your attire, right down to your choice of earrings. Even with a red nose and puffy, smudged eyes, the time you’ve spent on your appearance remains evident.

You did all that for some guy who didn’t even show? If that’s how you dress for your dates then his innocent perception of you is completely wrong. What kind of moron would pass up the opportunity to peel you out of that dress and dive into your cunt? You look incredible. What the fuck.

"God. Shit. Fuck! Fucking stupid heels!” You huff out your exasperation and let a small pitiful laugh pass your lips as you right your stance with Namjoon’s help. “You know, I spent hours getting ready and now I just look stupid. I feel stupid.”

“You don’t. You’re not,” Namjoon insists, his palm squeezing your shoulder.

“Namjoon, I shaved my entire body. Do you know how long that took?”

Jungkook forces himself to withdraw into the kitchen. If you see him now you might murder him. He purses his lips into a thin line and tightens his grip around his arms. In an instant he imagines hiking your dress above your hips and parting your legs so he might brush his cheek against the smooth expanse of your thigh all the way to your core. Are your panties as slutty as your dress? Are they cute? Lacy? Plain?

“Geeksquad…” Namjoon sighs loudly. “I really don’t need to know— Hold up. Wasn’t this the second date?”

“Are you slutshaming me?” The tired laugh that follows sounds more like you, but it still hurts his heart. “I’m stepping up my game.”

“Nah. You do you,” he says, a soft smile on his lips that’s obviously full of pity. “You want to stay and get some food? I think I have some sweats you can change into.”

Tires screech in Jungkook’s mind. Is he going to be trapped here for the night? Without dinner? What kind of karmic torture is the universe putting him through?

“No, I’m sorry,” you sniffle, wiping your face with the sleeves of your sweater. “Jennie wants me to come over but I—I didn’t think I could make it with having a full meltdown. You were on the way.”

“No need to apologize.” He pulls you into another tight hug. “Do you want me to walk you back to your car?”

“No, no it’s fine. I’m right in front. Thanks, Joonie.” Your phone begins to buzz in your hoodie pocket. You pull back and wave it at him, already on your way to the door. “It’s like she knew. I’ll talk to her on the way. Thank you for listening to me cry for the millionth time.”

“Always. Text me when you get there, okay?”

“Will do, mom,” you tease with a soft laugh.

“Zip up your hoodie.”

You grimace at him with narrowed eyes but heed his advice on your way out. You also pull your skirt down as far down your thighs as it will reach. Men are gross and you trust virtually none of them.

Jungkook waits until he hears the click of the lock on the door to breathe a loud sigh of relief. Namjoon rubs the back of his neck and stares at the door. He worries about you.

“Yikes. That Jason guy is a dick huh?”

Namjoon swivels on his heels and rounds on his friend. “Like you were so much better to her?”

Jungkook casts his gaze to the floor. “I didn’t stand her up.”

Even he knows that argument is flimsy.

“Guk.”

“It was always just a joke.”

“It’s not though. She really liked you, man. I asked you not to mess with her.”

Memories have warped Jungkook into a jaded man: untrusting although not uncaring. Guilt is the only thing churning in his stomach as he thinks of you. He never expected to genuinely hurt you. Somehow things twisted into a gnarled mess that never really felt like more than a playful game of tug-of-war. But these kinds of games only work when the people involved know that they’re playing. It’s shitty when one pulls another into the mud when they’ve never agreed to participate.

Faced with the reality of how you consider him now, it dawns on him that he’s dragged you into the mud face-first without even the slightest resistance. You’ve stood up and you’ve even yanked the rope in retaliation, but you never should’ve been in the mud in the first place. Regardless of his own emotional ineptitude, he knows you never deserved that humiliation. No one does. The weight of his actions sits heavy in his gut.

Still he tries to justify himself. “All I do now is make pass after pass and she’s the one who turns me down.”

“You said it earlier yourself,” Namjoon sneers, irritated by his friend’s immaturity. “It’s always a joke. You’re never serious and she knows it. Look, you don’t have to like her back. She’s my friend and so are you. Just don’t lead her on and stop with the mind games. Be honest with her. The least you can do is apologize for being a dick.”

“That’s— I feel like… I don’t know how.”

Jungkook can’t bring himself to tell him of your conversation earlier tonight. It just adds to the guilt piling on his conscience. Namjoon used his own words against him and the worst part is it makes sense. It’s so much easier when it’s a stranger at a bar or a random encounter at a club, but you’re neither of those things. He lumped you into that category all the same.

Namjoon clicks his tongue and puts an arm around Jungkook’s back. “Starting with ‘I’m sorry’ can go a long way. She’s a good person and I know you guys can get along. Things were going well until you made that bet, right?”

Jungkook opens his mouth to speak and then closes it. “Mmm.”

“Not every girl is a Jiseo, Jungkook.”

“Yeah.”

“I think…” Namjoon sighs and shakes his head. “I don’t know. Can you try to just... tone it down? Maybe try to patch things up?”

“Okay.” Jungkook’s brow furrows and he chews his lip as he mulls over Namjoon’s words. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out his keys. “You ready?”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Your head dips forward as your fingers glide across the keys. It's hard to concentrate on your task when you're this distracted by your own thoughts. You stare at the monitor with furrowed brows. Namjoon grabs the back of your chair and leans forward to tower over you.

"Went that well, huh? Did he blow the second chance he didn’t deserve?"

The motion jerks you backwards and you grip the armrests of the chair to steady yourself. Despite your best attempt to curb the irritation in your expression, your frustration remains apparent. You sit back and tilt your head up to look at him, trying to think of something to say, some excuse to not reinforce the "told you so" waiting in your future, not after you showed up at his apartment sounding like a dying whale a few days before. When no ideas come to your immediate aid, you click your tongue and let out a heavy sigh as you turn your attention back to the screen.

"Geeksquad," he presses. "Talk to me."

You exhale through your nose and briefly purse your lips before obliging his plea. The words are quick and quiet so you don't run the risk of bawling your eyes out again. "He canceled.”

Namjoon steps back and the pressure on your seat is gone. He places a large palm on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?"

Despite wanting to give the opposite answer, you shake your head. You don't trust yourself to speak, but you'd like to tell him. He's clever and you know he'll likely find a way to get it out of you with minimal effort anyway. Still, you don’t think you can manage the words without crying like a baby and you don’t want to do that when the morning has only just begun. Silence falls between the two of you as he gives you time to decide if you want to open up.

After a moment of tapping away you finally give in. You know you’ll feel better after you cry.

"He said he had to stay behind and help do clean-up for the party he was at. And that’s nice and all, but we had plans. I feel crazy. I should be glad that he’s so kind, right? Like that shows he’s a good person, right?” Your voice has cracked but it hasn’t quite broken.

He sighs and flops in the chair on the other side of his desk. “Y/N… I think you’re asking me for answers you already know.”

“But tell me anyway,” you press, tears welling in your eyes. “Our first date went so well. So why-y-” Your voice breaks.

“Hey.” He reaches across the desk and brushes his fingers against your arm. “I know you want me to help you make excuses for him... But you deserve someone who values your time. Clearly he’s just looking to waste it.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you don’t need someone like that. If this is what he’s like before you’re even together, then what kind of effort is he really going to put into a potential relationship? Not enough. There are so many people out there, people that would trip over themselves just to have the chance to be with you. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I think it’s a mistake that you even gave him another shot. He blew it. Twice. Delete his number. Forget him.”

“I know,” you croak. Tears fall from your eyes and you quickly swipe them away, focusing on the task at hand.

Namjoon is right and you know it, but you’re kind of irritated about it. You know it’s not really him you’re mad at, but Namjoon is a good enough placeholder while you try to sort through your hurt feelings.

You muster your most monotone voice as you stand. “I updated your drivers and deleted any cached files that might have been causing issues. Is that all?”

“Don’t be mad at me,” he pleads, rising to block your path as you step towards the door. “You have a big heart and I hate seeing it stepped on.”

In a matter of seconds you melt into his embrace and bury your face into his shirt. “I hate how fast I like people.”

“I know.” He pets the back of your head softly and squishes you against his chest. “It’s gonna be okay. How about udon later? My treat?”

“With beef?” you ask with a sniffle.

“With beef,” he agrees.

“Gyoza?”

“Mhm.”

“And takoyaki?”

“...You’re pushing it.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You slide the appetizer tray across the table towards Namjoon. “Here.”

He shovels a dumping into his mouth right before he speaks. “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”

“Could you afford it though?” you tease, taking a sip from the bottle of saké and crinkling your nose at it before passing it to him.

“Not if you’re joining me,” he snorts. “You’re supposed to pour it.”

“No, thanks.” You push the tiny glass full of liquid back towards him.

"Wow. Are you guys on a date?"

You know the source of the voice before you even crane your neck to see Jungkook.

"Pfft." Namjoon waves the question off with a deep laugh.

Despite finding the scenario of ever dating Namjoon absolutely absurd, you can’t help but feel a little insulted by the volume of his laughter. Namjoon’s hangout night was supposed to take your mind off of how unwanted Jason made you feel. Instead, the pit of insecurity within your stomach grows into a thick, tangled brush of hostility. Is being seen with you really so laughable?

“Why would we be?” you snap, turning your attention back to your bowl.

Heat settles in your face and you purse your lips, not daring to look at either of them. You try to wrangle some noodles to shovel in your mouth before you can say something stupid. Their eyes are on you. Jungkook is definitely confused but not alarmed by your hostility. It’s something he’s grown accustomed to. But Namjoon knows when he hurts your feelings, every time, and it’s easy enough to disarm your irritability.

“She’s way too good for a mess like me,” Namjoon says with a light laugh.

“Why are you here?” you ask, tone already softer than before.

"Post-work snackie," he answers, all too cheery for your sour mood. “Came for the noods. Mind if I join?”

He looks to the rosy-cheeked Namjoon for his answer, as you set your hoodie and purse down in the space beside you to give him yours. Namjoon betrays you by scooting over to make room on his side of the booth. You’d mentioned to him before that you’d eventually like to fix things with Jungkook, to somehow make steps for peace. But you only have so much mental energy left to give today.

“Not tonight, Jungkook,” you plead with a sigh.

The frustration in that puff of breath is enough to make Jungkook hesitate. He blinks a few times, wide-eyed. “What?”

“I just… can’t handle your bullshit tonight.”

Jungkook tries to break the uncomfortable tension with a grin. “No bullshit tonight. Promise.”

“No.” Your answer is firm and somehow so fragile that it makes both men worry their brows in the same fashion. “Please, just go away.”

He shoves his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and takes a few steps back. He doesn’t know what to make of your demeanor, but he can put enough together to know the basics. You’re upset, maybe not at him for once. However unlikely, that’d be a blessing. Maybe you’re still upset about that guy that stood you up a few days ago. If that’s the case, he probably shouldn’t stick around and risk letting on how much he knows about that.

He tongues the side of his cheek and nods, forcing a smile to his face. “Alright. I’ll just order it to go. Planned on that anyway. Catch you later.”

Guilt wracks your nerves as he walks away. The moment you look back at Namjoon, you’re faced with a wall of disappointment that threatens to topple the scale of decision-making in Jungkook’s favor.

“You’re judging me for that,” you mumble. The noodles between your chopsticks slip back into the broth.

“Little bit,” Namjoon admits, watching his friend sulk over to the entrance waitstaff. “You know he told me he’s trying to be nicer to you.”

“What? When?”

“The other day. We hung out.”

He keeps his answers short and ambiguous, hoping your curiosity has been piqued. Maybe this is the golden opportunity he’s been hoping for to patch your friendship.

“Was this before or after he harassed me on Tinder?”

Namjoon’s heart sinks into his butt. Of course Jungkook would make reconciliation harder than it needs to be. “When did he do that?”

“That night I showed up at your apartment like a big crybaby.”

“I went over his place for dinner after you left. Jin wanted to try a new recipe out on us.” That seems to at least make you pause.

“You guys talked about me?”

“Yup.” He goes back to chewing his food, knowing he’s got you hooked.

Your incredulous stare does nothing to pull information past his lips. “Joonie. What did you say about me? What did he say?”

“Mmm?” He slurps up a long noodle. “A lot of things. But they’re not really my words to tell.”

“No one likes clickbait, Joon.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that he told me that he wants to fix things. If you want specifics, maybe we can invite him to come eat with us. It might be easier for the both of you to talk about it over good food.”

You sigh, seriously considering his words even as you shake your head. “Joon, I’m already emotionally compromised. I really don’t want to cry in front of Jungkook tonight.”

“Why would you cry? This is a night for good things only. Namjoon-approved and protected. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to... I just thought it might be nice to make some good memories with good friends.”

You roll your eyes but hold your pinky out for him. “Fine. But this is Joonie-Y/N time. You’re cutting into that allotted time slot, you know that right?”

Namjoon rests his elbow on the table, preparing to pinky swear to whatever you’re about to suggest. “Conditions?”

“He sits next to you, he doesn’t make fun of me if I cry, and…. he doesn’t get to talk.”

“Y/N.”

“Fiiiiine. He can talk. But he better be as nice as you say he’s trying to be.”

“We allowed to talk about Jason?”

“If it comes up…” you sigh. “You know, if he’s mean to me and I cry then you have to deal with it.”

He clasps his long pinky around yours. “Deal. But with how all that just went down, you gotta go tell him to come back. He won’t believe me if I do it.”

“Don’t let him be mean to me,” you plead, tightening your grip on his pinky and locking eyes with him. “Good vibes only.”

“He won’t be mean. Good vibes only.” Namjoon nods with a soft smile. “He really is a good person where it counts, Y/N.”

You push your things aside and force yourself to find Jungkook. He’s leaning against a wall near the entrance, scrolling through his phone while he waits for his order. You quietly request to your waitress that you’d like his food brought to your table. She’s nice enough about it, but your stomach churns regardless. It’s the anxiety.

You gingerly poke a finger against his shoulder as you approach. “Um. Hey.”

He seems startled at first, but smiles when he realizes it’s you. “Hmm?”

You take a deep quiet inhale, trying your best not to get lost in the butterflies his charming smile conjures in your gut. You try to tell yourself it’s anxiety and nothing more. Apologies are hard and scary. That’s all.

“I’m… sorry for being rude. I’ve had a rough week but I shouldn’t take it out on you. Come eat with us, please. Namjoon’s buying anyway.”

His eyes seem to light up with surprise and a warm smile deepens the creases around his eyes and mouth. The hope that these feelings of attraction would evaporate with time is a flame swiftly snuffed out and replaced with a burning heartache that deems denial useless. Even now, pangs of infatuation lurk below your feelings of disdain, breaking the tension of its surface with each beat of your heart.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you. “I shouldn’t have invited myself when I saw you guys. I should really get home and shower anyway.”

He looks so clean that you’d assumed he’d already showered. It’s not like you can smell him from where you stand. Maybe he’s lying, but at least you get the sense it’s coming from a place of politeness.

“Jungkook, I want you to come eat with us. Besides Namjoon wants someone to drink saké with him and I cannot keep doing it.”

“I see.” He offers a small laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty against it before. What changed?”

“Namjoon told me you’re trying to be less of an asshole to me.”

“Did he?” he licks his lips and tries to hide his pleased smile. “I’m surprised you believe him.”

“He also promised me I could punch you in the dick if you make me cry,” you lie, completely stone-faced.

If he knows that’s a falsified statement, he doesn’t say anything. He looks past your shoulder to quirk a brow at Namjoon, who appears to be furiously texting at the table. Jungkook’s phone buzzes a few times against his palm and he’s fairly sure he already knows who it is.

“Come on. I already asked them to bring your food to the table.”

He reads Namjoon’s messages as he trails behind you.

NAMJOON: If you seriously want to apologize stick around, make her laugh, just listen when you need to

JUNGKOOK: Don’t worry

JUNGKOOK: I got u

Before Namjoon can send a text saying that Jungkook's response has the opposite effect, you’re peeking across the table, trying to get a glance at the screen.

“Who’s that?” you wonder. Namjoon’s not usually one to be so secretive with his texts.

“Hmm?” he raises his eyebrows at you and pours you a shot. “Stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Ha. Haha. Ha.” You gesture at your face. “You say to the girl with anxiety.”

Crinkling your nose at the glass he offers, you slide it across to Jungkook as he settles in next to Namjoon. “Here. I’m done drinking that stuff tonight.”

He regards it with a quirked brow. Something about your demeanor really has changed, but looking between you and Namjoon does nothing to answer the question of what that may be.

“Okay, so on reddit this guy was reaching. He’s going on about the symbolism in the red scarf—”

Your eyes gloss over the moment he mentions reddit. Is there anything you care less about than Joon’s favorite modern literary discussion threads?

“Got it. Not worrying about it,” you interrupt, bringing your bowl to your lips to slurp some of the broth.

Jungkook hides his smirk by throwing his head back to drink his shot. Namjoon is a genius. It might be scary if he ever decided to use his intellect for nefarious purposes. Lucky for the universe he uses it to protect others, like a real superhero would.

As the three of you dine together, you’re surprised to find that Jungkook isn’t being as annoying as he usually is. In fact, it seems the more he drinks outside of any competitive setting, the more affable he becomes. Maybe there’s something to Namjoon’s clickbaity words. He’s almost the person you remember meeting before the Halloween Party, maybe even more pleasant.

You’re grateful when the two of them start telling embarrassing stories so you can listen and laugh at the way they slur their words and interrupt each other. Laughter makes your heart feel light and full, and brave enough to take the last step to prove to yourself you’re done chasing Jason. As the two men fight over the last piece of gyoza and distract themselves over dessert, you quietly decide to clear your text messages from Jason. Your finger hovers over the delete icon for a second before purging his contact information from your device entirely.

It’s freeing to not have to worry about what you should send him. It’s frustrating to have tried so hard for so long and have nothing to show for it, but at least there will be no conversation history to pick apart anymore. It should feel perfect. That will definitely show him, right? You don’t have to reflect for more than a couple seconds to reinforce the memory of how little he actually reached out on his own.

He still has your number. The only time he ever called was on your first date. He never texted you unless you spoke first. He probably won’t even notice you’re gone. He’s probably relieved he won’t have to answer you anymore. He probably thinks you’re desperate for trying for so long. You don’t realize how well you wear your anxiety.

When you look up Jungkook is watching you while he chews with his mouth wide open. “Hey, why do-” He hiccups and swallows. “Why do you look so sad? You should have some ice cream.”

He scans the table for something to offer you, but he can’t seem to find what he’s looking for in his drunken stupor. After a few seconds his eyes finally land on his own plate where the other half of his red-bean cake sits.

“Do you want my taiyaki?” He holds the tail end of the fish-shaped cake out to you. “It’s really good!”

You can’t help but laugh at the unexpected sweet absurdity of the night. “Jungkook, I don’t want your half-eaten cake.”

He frowns and looks at the pastry. “Is it because I bit it? I’ll break off that part for you if you don’t want your mouth to touch that.”

Although Jungkook definitely is more drunk than Namjoon right now, the older man can’t help but be amazed by how well this is going. He loads up on green tea ice cream and digs his spoon in it. He shouldn’t have been so worried. Jungkook can put away the act when he wants to, especially once alcohol is involved and there’s nothing to prove. You guys are actually getting along. What a relief.

“No, really it’s okay.” You laugh.

Jungkook is already breaking the pastry apart in his hand, watching as it crumbles to pieces on his plate. He blinks a couple times and closes his mouth in a frown.

“I thought that would work.” He sounds utterly defeated.

The waitress walks over just in time to watch Namjoon stick a heaping spoonful of wasabi in his mouth. You're too busy laughing at Jungkook's forlorn expression to notice the way Namjoon's eyes water. His eyes drop to the ice cream he thought he shoveled into his mouth. Right next to the pristine, untouched scoop of green tea ice cream, he finds his spoon resting in the hunk of wasabi adjacent to it. He should really pay attention more. He pushes against Jungkook's side and motions that he needs to get up. The younger man spares a glance his way but Namjoon waves him off while mumbling something about the bathroom.

The waitress tries to keep her composure and looks between the pair of you. "How is everything?"

"Great! Could you please bring us some water?" you ask in your sweetest voice, realizing the two men with you should at least try to start sobering up.

You expected to have Namjoon crashing on your couch on a Friday night, or at least be dropping him off down the hall at Hobi’s place. Jungkook was not part of the plan, but you can’t exactly let him drive home inebriated. You know he’s not your responsibility but you’d feel guilty making him call for a ride home when you’re perfectly capable.

Although you hate to admit it, you’ve had fun tonight. If you’re being honest with yourself you’d like to see what he’s like without Namjoon nearby to police his moves. He’s been nice enough, but you want to know for sure this isn’t an act. You want to ask him if he’s made another bet, or playing some game since he hasn’t hit on you all night. Before you can get your line of questions in order, Jungkook turns to the server with large, pleading eyes.

"Oh! Can you bring some more dessert, please?"

He may be a grown ass man capable of charming the pants off of women everywhere, but right now he is little more than a child begging for seconds. Regardless of everything he's done, your heart softens, endeared and embarrassed by his drunken request to your server.

The waitress nods. "Sure, what would you like?"

His eyes fall to you for an answer. "What do you like?"

You blink at him. "Me? I thought this was for you."

He nods. "Mm. We can split it."

"Um, how about... tempura?"

"Banana?"

Jungkook’s voice is full of anticipation and his upturned eyebrows seem to bargain for agreement. It’s so hard to believe this is the same man who has been so cold to you for so long when he seems so open and warm now. You remind yourself it’s probably the alcohol. It’s probably some secret promise to Namjoon. Some bet with Hobi. Some game he’s playing. It’s probably anything other than what your dumb crush-stupefied heart wants it to be.

The waitress looks to you for approval and you give a nod. "Sure. Banana tempura."

The waitress awkwardly smiles as she gathers the empty platters and gives you a chance to break away from his endearingly drunken face. He smiles across the table at you and wrings his hands while you pick up your phone to check on those nonexistent messages. Maybe if you distract yourself enough you can ignore the feelings that are catching up to you tonight.

“Thank you for inviting me back over,” he says, reaching to the nearly empty bottle of saké to pour himself another shot. “I’ve... been wanting to talk to you."

"I’m surprised you didn’t blow up my phone.” It’s supposed to be a joke, but there’s a harshness in your tone that exposes a venomous bite beneath it.

He downs the shot and plants his elbows on the table, leaning forward on them. "I wanted to say it to your face."

“Oh, really?”

You don’t allow yourself to entertain the idea that he’s about to say anything groundbreaking, but you look away from your phone to meet those dark, twinkling eyes. Suddenly there’s hope in your gut. You’re desperate to put some distance between the feelings jumping to the surface.

“I’ve been a dick.”

“No shit.”

Though the fog of alcohol consumes his apology, his eyes focus on you with clarity. “I’m sorry.”

How long have you waited to hear those words? You never really thought about what you might say in response. His apology sits in the air between you for a moment before he speaks again.

“I’m really sorry. Namjoon is right. I am trying to be less of an asshole to you. We don’t…” he catches himself, “I don’t have a lot of close friends who are women.”

“You don’t say.”

That seems to cut through the fog. He hangs his head and focuses his gaze on the table.

“I never wanted to hurt your feelings.”

“Well, you did,” you mumble.

“I know... I’m sorry.” It’s like now that he’s said it once, he can’t stop saying it. He’s not sure how to make you understand. Maybe you do understand and you just won’t forgive him. Can he really blame you for that?

“Why?” you question; it’s the last barrier protecting your heart, the only thing keeping you from caving. “Why do you care now?”

Jungkook’s head lolls to one side as he sits back against his seat and stares at the nearly empty bottle of saké. “I don’t know. I guess I was thinking… I wish I had a save to reload. Before I messed up.”

It seems that’s the best you’re going to get out of him right now. The waitress sets down a beautiful platter of banana tempura meticulously arranged around a simple mound of ice cream, topped with a single cherry and drizzled with decorative chocolate. She places three waters on the table and you both take a moment to politely force smiles and pause your conversation.

He licks his lips and stares down at the plate and then back up at you. “Can we start over?”

“Depends. Are you gonna go back to being a dick when you’re not drunk anymore?”

“No, no. I mean it. I wanna try to be friends.”

“For real?” You swipe the cherry, pop it in your mouth and tilt your head to regard him. You can’t let yourself fully believe him. You want to. The earnestness in his drunken features charms you, but you hold onto a shred of disbelief as a crutch. You’ll wait for the moment he reverts. Hopefully this time you’ll be prepared for the whiplash that comes along with it.

“For real.”

You reflect on his apology as the pair of you dig into the dessert. “Maybe. Prove it.”

He perks up. He’ll take a maybe. Maybe means the damage he’s done might not be irreparable. The guilt weighing on his conscience feels lighter. It’s a start.

“I will. I’ll find some way to make it up to you.”

You roll your eyes, unwilling to put stock in his words. “Is this another bet with Hobi? About how quickly you can make me forgive you?”

Jungkook shakes his head furiously, wisps of wild black hair whipping his cheeks. “No, I mean it. I promise.”

You drag your lip through your teeth as you teeter on the line of acceptance. “What is a promise from a liar worth?”

He drops the flat of his palm to the table and he pouts. “Hey. I mean it…. Hm. If I break my promise…” His eyes scan the table for anything he can use to change your mind. He looks at his arm pressed against the table and then back at you. “You can choose my next tattoo.”

Your eyebrows rise into your hairline. “Really.”

He eagerly nods. “I’ll get whatever you want wherever you want. Just. Not my face.”

“I want that in writing,” you snort.

Jungkook glances around the table and pulls a napkin from under the plate of tempura. “Do you have a pen?”

“Jungkook, you don’t have to—”

“I’m serious.” He’s not taking no for an answer.

You shake your head and rummage through your purse to supply him with a pen. He smooths out the napkin he’s chosen to use as a conduit for his promise. When he’s finished writing he slides it towards you.

Princess

I’m sorry. I can make it right.

I promise. Please give me another chance.

If I blow it you can choose what & where my next tattoo goes.

As long as it’s not my face. Let’s be friends? #promise.com ♡ Jungkook

Of course he signed it with a heart. Despite his inebriation, his handwriting is still neat. Well, that’s one hell of a promise.

“Okay.” You fold the note and drop it into your purse. “We can try.”

His face lights up as he stuffs a piece of tempura into his mouth, happily chomping with his mouth wide open. He reaches for the saké but you slide a water in front of him instead.

“Friends don’t let friends get totally shitfaced at Hajime.”

He frowns at you but seems to accept your answer with a pout.

“Speaking of which… Where is Namjoon?” You crane your neck to look around the restaurant.

“Friday noodle nights common for you guys?” Jungkook asks, digging into the dessert between massive gulps of water.

“No, not really. We’re usually watching movies at my place or hanging with Hobi. But Namjoon wanted to take me out because I was sad,” you say, finally catching sight of your friend on the other side of the bar.

Jungkook’s chewing slows and he regards you with furrowed brows. “Sad?”

Before you can decide how you want to answer, Namjoon is scooting into the booth next to Jungkook and reaching for a piece of tempura. “Mmmm. What did I miss?”

“Y/N was telling me why she’s sad.”

Namjoon nods like he understands exactly what you’ve been talking about. “He’s a dick, right? Like how do you even stand someone up, not once, but twice? Makes no sense.”

“Joonie—”

“And I know what you’re gonna say, but I disagree. It has nothing to do with you or how you look, Y/N. You don’t need to workout like a maniac to try to change anything. Especially not for someone like Jason. I can’t even imagine—”

“Joon.” You click your tongue and slide a glass of water in front of him. “Please, shut the fuck up.”

As you glare at him, he looks at you with raised brows and wide eyes. Unsure what to do now that he’s obviously fubared the conversation, he casts his guilty gaze to his cup and brings it to his lips.

Jungkook stares at you with furrowed brows, trying to wait to let you fill in the blanks even though he’s itching to ask about everything. He picks another piece of tempura and stuffs it into his mouth, but when you remain silent the impulse to pry takes over. “Jason?”

“He stood me up…” you start, but you close your mouth when you realize you’re going to try to defend him. Your throat feels full, like you can’t get enough air through with a giant knot in it like this. You have to whisper so your voice doesn’t crack. “Twice.”

The couple drinking at the table nearby becomes a much more interesting place to rest your eyes than the two men across from you. Tightening your jaw doesn’t prevent the gloss from coating your eyes. Thinking about it makes you feel so stupid and desperate. Bending over backwards a thousand different ways to accommodate him couldn’t convince him to put in even a minimal amount of effort one time.

Jungkook’s eyebrows shoot up in genuine surprise. “Twice?”

The hurt you feel in your chest scorches your cheeks until anger is filling your head like a teakettle ready to release an unhealthy amount of steam right in Jungkook’s face.

“That’s what I get for giving people second chances,” you snap as you focus back on him.

Joon says your name like it’s a warning but you don’t need it. You feel guilty enough for projecting your anger onto Jungkook with a petty one-liner.

“Sorry. It’s not your fault. I just…” Your throat closes around the rest of the words.

Before an uncomfortable silence can settle over the table, Namjoon inches the bottle of saké with his fingertips until it’s in front of him. “Dating is tricky. Jason sucks. It sucks that he hurt you. But you don’t have to twist yourself into whatever you think he wants anymore. And that…” He pours the pitiful remainder of alcohol into a shot glass and slides it towards you.“...is worth celebrating.”

Jungkook silently nods his head in agreement. It’s obvious you’re on the verge of tears and he doesn’t want to be the thing that pushes you over the edge.

A soft smile curls the corners of your mouth. “That’s true, but…” you slide the glass back towards him and steal the last of the banana tempura. “I can celebrate back at my apartment. Finish your water so you’ll be awake enough to join me. Both of you.”

Jungkook perks up and happily reaches for his water while Namjoon gives you a proud, yet confused look. It seems like a new start to something. What that is remains to be seen.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook watches intently as the colors of the city shine through the windows. He runs his fingers over the soft blanket you keep in the backseat, mouthing the words to the song softly playing from your dashboard. Namjoon has been talking nonstop from the passenger seat, which is fine with Jungkook since he’s feeling a little tired. The last session of the day was a bit more intense than intended, but the client left happy and covered in sweat. A success. But Jungkook is sore and exhausted. Physically and socially.

A sense of relief floods him at the memory of his conversation with you. Things may actually be okay from here. Who would have thought crashing your noodle night with Namjoon could have yielded such results?

His head bobs to the music as his eyes wander across the scenery outside until he grows bored and they drift to the interior of your car. A graduation tassel swings from your rearview mirror as you turn. He follows the movement of the tassel when it swings towards you and his eyes land on your face, or at least what he can see of it from this angle.

You look focused and calm while conversing with Namjoon but your posture is a bit rigid and your hands remain planted on the steering wheel in complete control. There’s something about this candid snapshot of your persona that puts him at ease. Your voice is a soft contrast to Namjoon’s, but equally enthusiastic.

He tilts his head as he leans back in his seat, pulling the blanket over his lap and twisting the fabric around his palm. Your eyes flicker in the rearview mirror, catching his. He gives a tiny wave and rests his head against the cushion, fighting the temptation to close his eyelids for longer than a second. The more he listens to you laugh, the more he finds himself smiling. It’s goofy.

It’s also kind of cute.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook is surprised when Yoongi answers your knock; he thought he would be asleep. He’s even more surprised when you make yourself at home on his couch and guilt him with a puppy dog pout to make you a drink, and he complies. When Jungkook asks the same, Yoongi tells him there’s beer in the fridge while measuring out the ingredients for your cocktail. The suspicious sour ache of jealousy stabs his gut as he moseys to the fridge but he quickly shakes it off, settling on the floor in front of the tv with a beer in hand.

After a couple hours of drinking, laughing, and playing Jackbox games with the three men, you’re feeling much better about everything. Life is good. Friends are good. Alcohol is very good.

It doesn’t take much to get you drunk. You’re about as much of a lightweight as Hobi and for better or worse everyone has come to know that fact. What’s nice about drinking in Yoongi’s apartment is that you don’t have to walk very far to get home. Things don’t get awkward with the three of them together; it’s actually kind of nice, like a mini Saturday night pregame.

Soon Namjoon and Yoongi are snoring on the couch with a movie playing in the background while you stand in the kitchen with Jungkook. He pours another drink for himself, though he knows it will mostly likely remain unfinished. Tomorrow may bring a massive hangover, but tonight has been surprisingly pleasant. He feels like he’s finally on okay footing with you, maybe even on the road to serious repair. Amazing how well you get along when inhibitions are replaced by inebriation. If that’s what it takes, he’s determined to keep it up.

As he turns his back to place the liquor bottle in the cabinet by the fridge, you swipe a sip of the drink he’s concocted. He spins around in time to see you wrinkle your nose and stick your tongue out.

“Hey, that’s mine!” he pouts.

“Blegh. You can have it. Yuck!” Your face screws up again at the aftertaste.

He drunkenly giggles as he slides the drink closer to him. “What, don’t like sour?”

“Too sour!” You reach for the water bottle Yoongi gave you hours ago and attempt to rinse the puckering sensation from your mouth.

Amused, he tilts his head and watches you take gulp after gulp. He purses his lips and holds back the comment itching to escape, deciding to enjoy a sip of his drink instead. You shimmy out of your hoodie and tie it around your waist and his eyes lazily follow the motion of your arms, noting a slight difference in their musculature. Some errant thought about their shape leads him back to an earlier unaddressed comment that he’s finally comfortable enough to prod you about.

“What kind of workouts are you doing?” he blurts.

Suddenly you feel very exposed. You straighten in your seat and suck in your gut, hyper aware of every imperfection of your body on display to someone so in shape. You immediately begin to fidget with the sleeves of the hoodie you just tied around your waist.

“You don’t have to tell me. I just—” he pauses, exhaling a small breath and looking down at his drink as though he’s wary of continuing the thought.

“No, no it’s fine,” you assure him, too curious to say otherwise. “What is it?”

“When Namjoon said…” he sighs and takes a sip, smacking his lips and licking them before looking back to you. “I thought maybe I can prove myself to you by helping you come up with a plan.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You plant an elbow on the counter and lean on it.

“I want to,” he insists, reaching out for your arm.

His hand is like fire engulfing your skin and your eyelids flutter at the sensation. Instinctively you place a hand over his and rub your thumb anxiously over it. He looks down to where your thumb grazes his knuckles and then back up to your face with a surprised smile.

“Um… Everything,” you say, trying to sound as vague and nonchalant as possible so he doesn’t judge you for your lack of knowledge.

“Like, full body?”

“Uh...” You’ve managed to make a habit of going to his gym a few days a week while successfully avoiding him, but it seems that time is coming to an end. “I… machine.”

“Oh. Like at a gym? Did you join one?” He seems genuinely curious.

“Um, yeah.” Suddenly you pull your hand back when you realize the speed at which your thumb is moving.

“Which one?”

The more you say, the more suspicious you seem, but is saying less any better? Jungkook rests his elbow on the counter and simply looks at you but you don’t look back. A slow smile spreads his lips as the possibility dawns on him.

“Princess… Did you join Iron Kingdom?”

You puff your cheeks and force the air through the tiny opening of your mouth. You don’t offer any sort of confirmation and continue to avoid his gaze.

“And you didn’t tell me?” he playfully prods, drumming his fingers against your forearm.

“I… Yeah,” you admit, your voice small as you stare at the counter. “I didn’t want you to know.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

“I don’t want to give you another thing to make fun of me for.”

“I’m not gonna make fun of you.” When you don’t respond he tugs on your arm. The motion is enough to angle you towards him. “Hey. Hey. Hey. Hey.”

“What?” you grumble, staring at your lap even as you face him.

He takes your hands in his and drunkenly waves them around. “Heeeeeeeey. Look at me.”

He pouts until you reluctantly drag your eyes to meet his. “What?”

“Everyone starts somewhere,” he says softly. “Even me.”

The shift in his demeanor catches you off guard and you subconsciously lean forward as you relax. “Well I started with Hwasa, but I was too sore to ask for another session with her.”

He nods sympathetically, clapping his hand over yours. “You should try again.”

You shake your head. “I don’t know. I feel like…”

“Like?” he prods when you let the silence trail for a bit too long.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” you sigh. “I feel like I don’t belong there. I look so stupid reading the instructions on the machines. I don’t even think I’m doing it right.”

“What?” He makes a sound between a laugh and a grunt. “There’s nothing wrong with making sure you don’t hurt yourself. Nobody knows how to instantly do things. If they tell you they do, they’re lying.”

“Or they’re Namjoon,” you say with a roll of your eyes, glancing over at your snoring friend.

He smiles and clicks his tongue against his teeth in thought. “I didn’t know what I was doing when I started.”

“Really.”

You’re skeptical. It’s always seemed like he was born in a gym. Or maybe hatched. He’s kind of inhumanly gorgeous. Maybe he sprouted from a flower like a mythical god.

“For real. First time doing squats. I think it was gym class? Yeah, I was like twelve or thirteen. I was… not very athletic. Didn’t play sports or anything. Kind of shy. Didn’t really have a lot of friends either…”

The way he trails off makes your heart hurt. Puberty isn’t nice to most people. It’s hard to imagine a world where someone like Jungkook isn’t instantly popular and naturally fit. While you’re not exactly the same person you were at twelve, a lot of your interests and personality quirks have remained the same. You’re still painfully awkward at times. How did he manage to overcome something like that? Is it not ingrained in him like it is you?

“Just a big dork, you know?” He laughs. “I see this girl I had a crush on, Amber. She’s looking at me. I think I have to impress her. So I’m stacking up weight and I think I’m hot shit and go too fast. Know what happened?”

“Please don’t tell me you dropped it on your foot or something,” you plead, squeezing his palms at the way he’s building up the story. The secondhand embarrassment is too real.

“I hear a pop.”

“No!” you gasp, bringing your hands to your face as if you can stop the past from happening.

“And pain. So much pain. I don’t remember putting the weights down but I remember ending up on my back, staring up at the ceiling.”

“Oh no. Knees?”

“Worse.” He points down to his crotch. “Pulled a muscle in my groin. Had to sit the rest of the day with an ice pack on my junk. Was not fun. My point is: don’t give up. You learn more as you go. Give Hwasa another shot.”

His anecdote gives you pause but you’re desperate to cling to the comfort of your anxiety. “My free trial with her is almost up and I don’t think I’ll be able to afford to keep at it.”

“More excuses,” he teases, taking a sip of his drink. “At this point I should just—” His eyes widen, a lightbulb practically forming above his head as he puts his cup down. “I’ll be your personal trainer!”

“Uhh…”

“No, no. It’s perfect. We’re friends now.” He smiles, proud of himself for finding a way to prove himself to you. “I can teach you everything you need to know about working out. I can set up a plan for you and figure out the best way to help you achieve your goals. Oh, man we’re gonna have to figure out your goals. What do you—”

“Hold on. Hold on,” you interrupt with a nervous laugh. “You’re missing the part where I still can’t afford it.”

He rolls his eyes and grabs your glass, holding it under the sink to refill it. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll cover it.”

You’re stunned into silence as you observe the expanse of his back, searching the black fabric of his t-shirt for the definition of his muscles. He sets the cup in front of you, waiting for your agreement. When it doesn’t come, he second guesses himself. Did he overstep?

“I mean if you’re okay with that. Would-would you want to do that?”

The innocent drunken sparkle in his eyes makes your stomach do a flip. When you woke up this morning you hardly thought the day would include getting sloshed with Jungkook and having him offer to take you on as a fitness trainee. It’s like he’s opened himself up just enough for you to see the soft mess beneath. You like it. You like it a lot and you kind of hate yourself for it. While you don’t know if you can trust him past the evening, you find yourself hoping you can.

“You won’t make fun of me?” you ask timidly before bringing the cup of water to your lips.

“It’s my job not to make fun of you. We start where you’re at and go from there. And like I said, I’ll cover the fees for as long as you want. No pressure.” He smiles at you. “What do you think?”

“...Okay,” you murmur with a nod of your head. “If you’re serious, then I’m… I’m in!”

His lips part to expose his teeth as his grin spreads. “Yes!”

As he brings his hand up in a sign of victory, his knuckles knock against his glass. You reach for the cup with impaired reflexes, hands fumbling over the slippery surface in conjunction with his. The sour contents spill across the counter as the pair of you struggle to right the glass. While he’s quicker at getting the glass upright, your brain is faster at processing what to do next and you already have a paper towel in hand, wiping up the liquid as fast as possible.

Your eyes follow the spill to the edge of the counter where it’s flooded over the side. Acting on instinct rather than rational thought, you quickly press down where the liquid has begun to pool in his lap. As you fold the paper towel over, you rub frantically as if the action will keep the stain from setting into the fabric. He shifts in his seat and squeaks out a sound so small that you can’t actually tell whether it came from him or the chair.

It only dawns on you how inappropriate your actions are when you glance towards his face and find his wide eyes gazing back at you. His cheeks, already flushed from inebriation, seem twice as vivid and his mouth is parted slightly as though he means to speak, but he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to embarrass you, but it’s too late for that.

Your palm stills against his crotch as the shape beneath becomes clear in your mind. For a second you’re frozen, but your lips work quickly to mumble an apology. It feels like an eternity before you will your drunken fingers to release the paper towel. The clearing of Jungkook’s throat is followed by a tiny giggle, then a full on snort. A grin spreads across your lips and you soon follow him into a fit of laughter. You thank the universe for the small mercy of being drunk enough to push your embarrassment to the side for the time being.

“I wasn’t thinking!” you wheeze, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. It’ll dry.” He laughs, dabbing his pants and shirt in the absence of your hand. As he stands he pulls the hem of his shirt away from his torso and looks down at it. “Really. It’s my fault I’m so…”

“Sticky?” You quirk an eyebrow at him, a blatant flirtatious action thinly disguised as a joke as you eye the blot of liquor staining the lower half of his shirt.

Both of his eyebrows raise and a mischievous smile curls the corner of his lips. “...Wet.”

You consider his answer with a pleased hum and turn back to the counter to polish off the last of your water. You’re friends now, right? It can’t be that easy. But it kind of is. So what’s wrong with a little harmless flirting between friends?

Drunk brain, who happens to be a notorious hoe, assures you it’s great. Rational brain might disagree, but she’s taking a well-deserved nap. You’ve at least had a good night. You’re not sure it matters at this point who is giving you the attention you crave. It feels good. So good, in fact, you’re sure you can indulge drunk brain a little more.

You’re drawn to the inky shapes swirling around Jungkook’s bicep as he wipes the counter down. Every time your eyes begin to focus on an object marking his skin with some kind of meaning, he moves and you lose it. It’s brush strokes, isn’t it? You’ve definitely seen a paintbrush and mountains and a knife surrounded by roses. A swathe of grey and purple connects to each one you’ve seen, but you know there are more.

Before you can blurt that you’re dying to know how many he has and how bad it hurt to get them, he turns toward the sink and begins to work his t-shirt up his torso. You watch in awe as the toned muscles of his back are exposed. The image of the bright phoenix does little to hide their definition.

Trying to will yourself to look away is of no use; he’s hot and you’re drunk enough to acknowledge that fact. Of course he peeks at you just as the shirt slips over his head to find you open-mouthed and dazed, ogling him as though there isn’t any shame in the world that could pull your gaze from him. He turns to the fridge to give you a moment to compose yourself, nabbing a water bottle from the shelf in the process. You’re clearly not ready for the way he quickly spins on the balls of his feet to face you.

Y/N.exe has stopped working.

Your fingers hang in the air suspiciously until you lazily drop them. But Jungkook dons a toothy grin and has the audacity to look shy. He mockingly shields his chest from you with the shirt clutched in his hands.

“Princess! Are you… checking me out?”

Somehow you don’t let the fire in your face turn your brain to ash.“Pfft, no.”

“What’re you doing, then?” he teases with a laugh as he sits, scooting his chair closer to yours.

“Counting,” you reply simply, brow furrowed in concentration. To drive the point home, you poke at his flesh everywhere you can make out an object drawn into its surface.

“How many?” he wonders, watching with cloudy, amused eyes.

“Mmm…” You trail your finger down his arm and back up, following the curve of the brushstroke around his shoulder. “Can’t tell if this counts as one.”

He shrugs and rests his head on his palm as he leans against the counter. “What do you think?”

You hesitate when he quickly quirks a brow.

“I think… A lot.”

“Definitely accurate,” he says with a grin.

Awkward laughter steers the pair of you towards your waters. The TV in the background provides enough noise to steal your focus; you’re grateful for the distraction from the attractive man beside you. Drunk brain is telling you to touch him again, to grab his hand, to feel the touch of someone just for the night, to ruin every good thing this night has started to rebuild between you. Anything to stave off the emptiness of your bed, the 2AM thoughts of failure, and the drunken desperation to find someone, anyone, who will fall in love with whatever image you happen to project on your dating profile.

Heart pounding wildly in your chest and blood rushing through your ears, your fingertips tap against the countertop as they inch closer to where his arm rests. Luckily your futile attempts at nonchalance go unnoticed. Jungkook anxiously turns his water bottle over in his hands, trying to gather words in his brain before freeing them from his mouth.

“So…” he begins.

You jump at the sudden sound and retract your hand while he’s not paying you any mind.

“I was thinking. About that guy…”

You wish you could at least pretend you don’t know who he’s talking about. You’ve vented plenty tonight, but still your heart sinks. Deleting Jason’s digital footprint from your life was simple and quick, but the feelings of rejection and disappointment that swirl in the back of your mind spill forward the longer his pause continues.

“I know this probably means nothing coming from me. But I just— I know you liked him, but you can do better.“

Your posture stiffens at his reassurance and you find yourself grateful he’s not looking at you. Do you deserve better?

“You deserve better,” he affirms, as if somehow aware of your internal struggle.

“Thanks,” you murmur with a distinct lack of enthusiasm as you stare down your glass.

It's cry hours, isn’t it?

Realizing you don’t believe him, he takes a deep breath and nudges you with his elbow. “Hey.”

“What.” You refuse to look up because you know you’re on the verge of an irrational stream of tears over some guy you hardly knew. It’s stupid and you know it. But the wet warmth coating your eyes tells you it’s coming regardless.

“I’m... sorry that you don’t feel like you do. Some people can’t get over the weight of their own shit. But that doesn’t mean it’s on you to pick it up for them. If they can’t even bother to carry themselves to meet you halfway, then they’re not worth the effort.”

It’s a perfect time for your heart to seize up and it takes the opportunity to do so. The advice he offers doesn’t stave off the tears, but it resonates deep within you. Namjoon said something similar. It makes you ache to hear it again from someone else. It just leads you back to the same questions you keep asking yourself. What’s so wrong with you that people don’t even want to try? Is it your personality? Physicality? Is it a lack of confidence? What is it?

‘I can’t even get a shitty guy to like me. Maybe I’m the one not worth the effort.’ You don’t dare say those words out loud. Pity isn’t something you’re looking for. A warm body to fill your bed maybe, but not pity.

“Sounds easy when you say it like that,” you murmur, trying in vain to will the tears not to fall. You’re quick to swipe at them and force a smile. “I guess I have trouble giving up on people. It’s not that I’m naive. I try to be realistic. But no matter how many times I get fucked over I just... hope for the best in people. I can’t help it.”

He pats your arm reassuringly. “That’s why you deserve better.”

If only it was as simple as hearing those words and magically being able to believe it. A big chunk of your confidence has crumbled away and there’s no clear path to restoration. As the warmth of his palm comes to rest against your arm, you place your hand over his and squeeze.

“I don’t know if I believe it,” you pause and thoughtfully add, “but thanks for saying it.”

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he offers a tiny, “You’re welcome.”

A shaky chuckle passes your lips. All of his features seem to soften the more you look at them. Maybe it’s the drunken gloss coating his big brown eyes or the way his lips slightly part as he looks back at you. The tightly coiled nerves in your belly urge you to unravel.

Although it's a subtle gesture, he licks his lips as he smiles and it practically seals your fate. If you don't leave now you're bound to do something you'll regret.

"It's late. I should sleep."

Or masturbate.

The speed at which you launch yourself from the seat is unpleasant. You're not sure what's worse: the dizzying vertigo or waves nausea sloshing in your gut. Jungkook's reflexes may be delayed but he's a steady mass of muscle the moment you reach out to steady yourself.

"Whoa. You okay?"

"Maybe," you mumble, finding yourself drawn to the heat radiating from his skin. Instead of walking away, slump down to rest your cheek against his shoulder and sling an arm around him. You might be drunker than you thought. "I don't know."

"Hmm. What do you need, princess?"

"Just wanna stop spinning."

His stance shifts to better accommodate the additional weight you press against him.

"How about you take over Yoongi's bed tonight," he suggests softly. "He's passed out anyway."

"No, I should go home." You peel your cheek from the warmth of his skin.

“You gonna make it there?”

“Yes,” you say indignantly. The world may be a bit wobbly right now, but you’re certain you can handle the short stroll down the hall.

"Okay.” He smiles, loosening his hold. As you step back your foot catches on the leg of the chair and it drags loudly against the floor.

Despite Jungkook’s attempt to keep you standing by grabbing at your arms, he loses his balance and he drops to his knees. The chair clatters to the floor before your ass does. Luckily his grip keeps your back and head far from impact, but you’re too cramped to be comfortable.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Those big, dark doe eyes of his are frozen in fear and a frown adorns his face. He looks so serious it’s ridiculous.

You can’t help but laugh, wiggling backwards to make space between his body and the heat steadily building between your legs. “I’m fine. Stop making that face.”

“Huh? What do you mean?” He sits back on his feet and tilts his head to the side in confusion.

He breaks into a fit of giggles when you dramatically mimic his expression. You roll back onto your elbows, making another ridiculous face to further mock him.

“No, no. It’s more like…” Jungkook takes the opportunity to lean over you, reaching with one hand to squeeze your cheeks to pucker your lips. You blow a disjointed raspberry at him before pulling his hand off to the side.

While the clamor of the fallen chair did nothing to rouse the men on the couch, the sound of Jungkook’s hearty laughter is loud enough to disturb the rhythmic snores of Namjoon.

Jungkook sits back on his heels and peeks over the countertop. He seems miles away, even as you sit up and scoot in to bring yourself closer. Laughter fades into a quiet hum as Namjoon’s snoring resumes.

You're lost in the abyss of his gaze as he turns his head to look back at you. All that remains in your brain at this point is a foggy desire to tug on the silky spirals of his ebony hair until he presses himself against you one more time.

Your hand settles for following the curves of his bicep instead, wondering how it might feel to be wrapped within his embrace. Some might say liquor makes you bold and stupid, and they're right. They should say it. But it also makes you feel invincible, like a goddamn glowing Mario star power-up.

"Princess?"

Enraptured, his eyes follow the motion of your hand as it slithers around his arm and squeezes. Unable to ignore the prompt, he answers with a flex against your palm. His ego swells when you shiver and noticeably hold your breath.

You know it's a mistake. You know it goes against all of your sober judgement, but you find yourself doing it anyway. It doesn't matter that you still harbor a grudge that holds your heart hostage. Drunk hoe vibes are taking the wheel. You’re tired, drunk as hell, and just want to feel wanted. And he's here.

Every fiber of your inebriated being is singing in unison: Why the fuck not?

Heartbeat pounding against your eardrums, you attempt to gauge his reaction as you lean towards him. It's hard to tell from beneath half-lidded eyes, but you think he's leaning towards you too. If he isn't you suppose you can always play it off like you're just a mess. It's not far from the truth. Focusing on the tiny freckle below his lip, you allow yourself to finally close your eyes and go for it.

But the universe isn’t here for your dumb boozy bitch mistakes.

The front door swings open with the sound of jingling keys dropping to the floor. It snaps you back to reality and you freeze, realizing there's no defense that will save you. Jungkook is quick to disengage, poking his head above the counter to acknowledge Hoseok’s presence with a wave. But his friend is completely enamored with the company he’s ushering towards his bedroom.

“Yeah, baby? How bad?” Hoseok whispers to the giggling girl wrapped around his arm.

He pins the stranger against the door to drag his tongue across her neck. Their bodies move rhythmically in a slow grind, a precursor for what’s likely to come. Jungkook purses his lips. How long until one of them notices him watching? It’s not until the girl moans Hoseok’s name softly that Jungkook spares a panicked look towards you.

Oh shit.

You gesture for him to get down before he draws their attention. The last thing you want to explain is why you’re on your knees in Hoseok’s kitchen with a very shirtless Jungkook standing close by. He obliges your silent request, squatting down beside you.

“Feel how hard you made me?” Hobi chuckles quietly.

The girl giggles, her voice growing closer. “You gonna fuck me right here or what?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Naughty girl. What if my roommate wakes up? Looks like he has a friend over too. You really want them to see what a dirty slut you are?”

You can hear her giggle as he directs her where to go, failing to keep his voice down so you hear every filthy thing he says after. Your hands fly to cover your mouth. Is your skin made of lava? You want to blame it on the close proximity to Jungkook, but the only thing you can imagine is Hoseok’s dick and the eager mystery woman about to be impaled by it. Can you scrub your brain of this memory? How are you supposed to look at him after this?

Jungkook watches your face carefully, trying his hardest not to laugh. Your eyes look so big he’s pretty sure they could roll out of your skull any second. Are you really so innocent? The way you cover your mouth says you are, but maybe it’s just the shock. Maybe you’re just trying to not laugh. Or scream. Or breathe? It kind of looks like you might pass out.

Are you gonna make it, princess? he wonders.

Once you hear Hoseok's bedroom door close, you fuss your hands over your hair and scramble to your feet, releasing a big exhale. The hushed words fall from your lips while you scurry away like a timid mouse. "I should go."

Despite being too far to make contact, he reaches out as you round the counter. "Wait—"

As soon as the word leaves his mouth he struggles to come up with the rest of his statement. There’s no reason to keep you here, except to maybe laugh a little about what just happened to smooth over any second-hand embarrassment. So why doesn’t he want you to go?

He swallows down the blank space caught in his throat and searches every last crevice of his brain for something of import to say. Guilt weighs his gut down, though there isn’t a clear cause. He’s probably screwed something up again without realizing it.

“Thanks for giving me another shot,” he says softly.

You breathe a sigh of relief and offer a tiny smile as you half turn, your hand already on the door handle. “Don’t blow it.”

He nods with a smile. “I won’t. Goodnight.”

“‘Night,” you mumble.

As soon as the door is closed you practically sprint down the hall to lock yourself within your apartment. Maybe it will also lock out all the mistakes your brain has made tonight.

The world feels colder now that you’re not pressed against the human-shaped heater that is Jeon Jungkook. Thinking about him makes your heart swell and ache at the same time. Regardless of how badly you wish you'd asked him to bed, you know loneliness is fleeting and guilt would be a far worse feeling to be saddled with.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Jungkook picks up the fallen chair, finding your soft, worn hoodie draped over it. Rubbing a thumb over the material, he considers running it back to you, but he can't remember which door is yours. It's not like he's been here often enough to know. Instead he slips his arms through the sleeves before flipping the hood over his head.

He settles on the floor in the space he previously claimed for the night, pulling a blanket out from under Yoongi's ass. Yoongi rolls his head up, a scowl on his features though his eyes remain closed. He grumbles but lies down, facing the couch.

Jungkook regards his friend for a moment before deciding to drape the blanket over him instead of claiming it for himself. Jungkook rolls onto his side and fluffs the throw pillow under his head. As he watches the credits roll on the TV, he nuzzles into your sweater.

He closes his eyes, thinking of you. He knows he shouldn't linger on the little occurrences of the night, especially with how foggy his brain is. He can't trust anything about his memory.

Still he thinks of the way your fingers trailed along his arm and curled tightly around his bicep. He lets himself dwell on the tiny sound you made, the involuntary tremble of your body, and the subsequent hitch in your breath.

He smiles and inhales the subtle scent you've left behind. A new spark of adrenaline fans flames that inflate his ego, spreading warmth from his stomach up into his chest. The world may wobble around him right now, but the little magical warmth within his gut helps him comfortably drift off to dreamland like he's the world's most immovable object.

[writemekpop]

Bad Romance (Part 1) | Lee Taeyong

Pairing: Lee Taeyong x Reader

Summary: Your boyfriend Taeyong wants to fuck you, but you're not ready...

Genre: Angst, Smut, College AU 

Word Count: 1.8k

Warning: Sexual Content, Toxic relationship 

Part 1 ⭐️| Part 2

Taeyong’s breaths were deafening in your ear. Couldn’t he try to control himself? For discretion, at least. You imagined every ear in your university dorm pricking up. Snickering. “I wonder what they’re up to.” 

Taeyong kissed you again, his hot lips colliding with yours.

His hand, ever so slightly rough, pushed up your shirt, sending goosebumps up your ribs. A moan sounded, deep in your throat, and Taeyong groaned in satisfaction. 

You felt instantly guilty. You’d told yourself your ancestors wouldn’t mind if you did this for him. But you’d promised not to enjoy it. 

Taeyong knotted one hand in your hair. You felt the other one slide up to your back to unclasp your bra. His hand dwarfed your back, sending sparks rippling up your shoulder blades. 

“Are you okay with this?” he murmured, voice husky. You nodded. It was a lie.

The truth was, you’d never had sex before. You’d barely even kissed a boy. 

When all your college friends were in the basement snogging boys, you would hover by the doorway, holding their drinks. When they began to tease you, you just pretended you couldn’t hear them. 

Even when everyone started saying you ‘batted for the other team’, it just felt like a relief. Maybe they’d finally leave you alone. 

You were a feminist. You fully believed that women weren’t shiny, unwrapped presents that had to be protected for marriage. But you were also a fake. 

Because the idea of sleeping with a stranger still made you feel sick inside. 

Well, Taeyong wasn’t a stranger; he was your boyfriend. So, you would just have to grit your teeth and get on with it. 

Taeyong’s hand slid down between you. You squeezed your eyes shut. It would be over in a minute; that’s what your friends were always joking about, right? 

Then, you heard the unmistakeable clink of his belt buckle. Suddenly, that was the most terrifying sound you’d ever heard.  

“W-wait,” you croaked. 

You clung onto Taeyong’s firm wrist. 

He was breathing hard, his pulse pounding under his papery-thin skin. You were sat on his lap – so you could feel how ready he was, and it frightened you. 

He would hate you for what you were about to say, you knew that. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” 

You rolled away from him, pulling your knees up and hugging them. Burying your wet eyes in your knees, you waited for Taeyong to leave. 

But you didn’t feel him get off the bed. 

Instead, there was absolute silence. A shiver ran down your spine. 

Then, his muscled arms were wrapping around you. Taeyong eased you till you were lying on the bed – fear closed in your throat – but he wasn’t trying to have sex with you. Instead, he helped you pull your T-shirt back on, and guided you so your head was resting on his chest.

You felt his thundering heartbeat slow to a steady, comforting pulse.

Taeyong pressed a kiss on your temple. For a second, your stomach curled; it was so fatherly. You mentally scolded yourself. Taeyong wasn’t like other guys. He was caring, and sensitive, and you should be grateful.  

“If you wanna go slow, let’s go slow. You’ll always be my girl,” Taeyong whispered.

So, you pushed down the niggling feeling that ‘always’ had an expiry date. It was time you learnt to trust someone, and Taeyong was the perfect person to let in.

---

Over the next few months, you tried your best to forget about that night. And it was easy enough – Taeyong was electrifying. 

You’d never met a man who could tell a Basquiat from a Banksy and didn’t even show off about it. 

Each night, after lectures, you’d sneak off to some gallery late opening, and take photos of each other for Instagram. 

Or, you’d just snuggle up in his dorm room and listen to him telling you all about his Art History course, or his dreams of starting his own gallery. 

You rarely spoke. You preferred to soak in his world, like a cat curled in the sun. And let’s face it – who wanted to talk about Maths, anyway? 

Taeyong was like a shooting star: totally uncontrollable, impossible to understand, yet hopelessly fascinating. You couldn’t believe why someone like him seemed to find you interesting. Or at least, worth spending every day with.  

---

The second time Taeyong scared you was a Saturday.

You were sitting in his lap, poring over one of his Art History books. Other than toying with a curl of your hair, or pressing a kiss to your shoulder, Taeyong was totally still.  

Sighing with pleasure, you flicked through the glossy pages – for the hundredth time. No wonder Taeyong would always say: If I wasn’t rubbish at Maths, we should’ve swapped courses.

Just then, you prised open a page you hadn’t seen before. You frowned. 

It was a scan of an old Japanese painting. In it, a wealthy couple were captured in a furious argument with a young woman, carrying a baby. It was entitled ‘Outside Wife’. 

You turned to Taeyong, finger on the title. “What’s that?” 

Taeyong lifted the book from your hands, then grinned. “It’s when a noble couple are forced to get married, but the man has another wife to, you know, satisfy his needs.” Taeyong chuckled dryly. “Unfortunately, that system isn’t available anymore.” 

You began to chuckle too… then your smile melted from your face. “What do you mean, unfortunately?” Goosebumps rippled over your skin. 

“Ah… it was just a joke. You know, we’re not exactly getting any.” Taeyong’s body still felt relaxed under you, but your muscles were tensing. 

“I thought you said you wanted to go slow…” you mumbled. 

Of course. You should’ve seen this coming. 

There was only so long a person could go without their needs fulfilled. And here you were, dragging your boyfriend down while he could sleep with any normal girl whenever he wanted. 

“I’m not ready yet, Taeyong.” You picked at the frayed wool of your jumper. 

Your throat closed as you prepared for what you would say next. “If you… need to sleep with someone else, I won’t blame you,” you whispered. Stupid, babyish tears were filling your eyes already. 

“Babe – it was just a joke! No need to get your knickers in a twist.” Taeyong laughed, and kissed your neck. 

When you still didn’t make a sound a moment later, Taeyong turned you around on his lap so you were facing him. Tears streaked freely down your cheeks – you couldn’t hide them. 

“Oh, baby….” Soft as a whisper, Taeyong placed his palm on your cheek and smoothed away the tears with his thumb. “I don’t care about your… problem. You’re my girlfriend, and what’s good enough for you’s good enough for me.” 

A small part of you hurt at the way he said problem, but you pushed that part away. You allowed him a small smile. 

Laughing, Taeyong pulled you into a bear hug. You’d never gripped his shoulder so tight. You were so lucky to have him. 

----

A few weeks later, Taeyong finally convinced you to accompany him to a house party. You knew what this meant. You’d been dating for four months – this was the ‘meeting his friends’ moment. 

All the time you were getting ready, your stomach had transformed into a pit of snakes. Excitement, anxiety, fear – they all wriggled and knotted about inside you. 

You chose a midnight-blue playsuit, in a glimmering velvet. When Taeyong pointed it out to you in the shop, you knew this what you’d be wearing. 

To be honest, you hated Taeyong’s friends. You were pretty sure Taeil had tried to sneak vodka into your coke, and Mark did nothing but yap on endlessly about his girlfriend in Canada. You were almost 100% sure she didn’t exist. 

But as soon as Taeyong’s mahogany eyes met yours across in the heaving living room, all your worries melted away like snow. All he had to do was raise one deep eyebrow, or pull his plump lips into a silly face, and you’d burst out laughing. 

Except, as the hours drew by, you realised you hadn’t seen Taeyong in a while. You were perched on the stairs, shivering next to everyone who was too zoned out to take part. 

“Taeyong?” 

Tip-toeing, you climbed up the stairs, calling his name. You pushed open each of the doors in the hallway, peeking through your fingers just in case anything funny was going on. 

But they were all empty. 

Just as you turned around to go back downstairs, you heard voices coming from the attic. Gingerly, you sneaked up. They grew louder, more defined. 

Pushing open the door just a crack, you heard:

“Really? My god.” 

Your heart jumped. You knew that rich, resounding tone better than your own voice. It was Taeyong. 

You considered climbing up to join them. But then, you heard something that stopped you in your tracks. 

“And the worst thing is, Irene thinks she’s some kind of sex goddess, but actually she’s awful. She just lies there like a limp doll, expecting me to do everything.” It was Doyoung speaking. 

There was a pause as they all laughed. 

Your heart was already twisting. Something about his tone felt… wrong. Like his girlfriend wouldn’t appreciate what he was saying. 

Then, you heard Taeyong say, “Mate, at least your girlfriend’s fucking you, even if she is awful at it. I haven’t got any for months!” 

Everyone in the group exclaimed in disbelief. You forgot how to breathe. 

“Yeah – I know. Y/n thinks she’s some kind of saint for “waiting for the perfect moment”. I mean, a guy’s got needs!” Taeyong’s voice was low, but to you he could have been screaming. 

Black spots were engulfing your vision. Gulping, you staggered backwards, out of the door. You didn’t want to hear what you heard next. You really didn’t want to.  

But you couldn’t help it. Not when Taeyong said, “You know, I don’t even feel bad about fucking Joy. I mean, I had no choice. If Y/n wasn’t so frigid, I wouldn’t need to. It’s her fault really.” 

That was it. 

You sprinted away. Pushing through the line of partygoers waiting to use the bathroom, you locked yourself inside.

Then, you curled up on the toilet seat and sobbed. 

It had finally happened. 

Your gorgeous boyfriend had finally realised that he was miles out of your league. He didn’t deserve the defect. He didn’t deserve the fake feminist who was too ashamed to admit how sexist she really was. 

Then, a thought entered your mind that make you perk up. 

Maybe you could pretend you’d never overheard Taeyong. Maybe you could go back to how you were before… Or maybe you could sleep with him and make him forget about all other girls. 

After all, you’d do anything to keep him. 

Anything.  

Read Part 2 here.

---

MASTERLIST

[inotanzen]

hiii! i really admire your art skills. and the fact that you improved so much in just 6 months is inspiring! do you have any tips on how to improve? i'm 26 and i want to improve but i feel like ive neglected my art for so long and now it's too late. :(

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH OMG ?? oh man i’m so bad with feeling and gratitude but this seriously means more than i can express so i worked really, really hard on narrowing down my best tips! so here’s

Eli’s Top 5 Rules To Be a Totally Cool Awesome Badass Artist In As Long As It’s Going To Take (In Order) :

Most important rule of all is it should be FUN. be disgustingly self indulgent, draw what you want and LOVE, not what you think you should or what everyone else is, or how everyone else is! don’t vibe with doing sketches first? hate lining? despise complicated painting styles? find shortcuts, don’t do them!!! if you’re doing digital maybe draw your sketches traditionally first and scan them/take a photo to draw over, try a lineless style, cel shading, or mixing mediums, the options are endless! this is where your “style” will come from. all “style” is, is an artists shorthand.

You are your only competition. never compare your progress to anyone but your past self, it’s not a race in terms of how good you are at X age after X amount of time spent practicing. i saw it illustrated in this comic a few years ago (that made me cry at the time, because i hadn’t started drawing yet) as seeing your skills as a beautiful potted plant- just because some people are walking around with theirs fully grown and thriving, doesn’t mean your little sprout will stay small forever. just be patient, keep watering it, and eventually, it’ll be a beautiful flower all your own. ❀

Use references Obsessively. this includes tracing! (ethically) there’s a ton of resources out there, redraws of frames from movie or shows are great too! play around with it, try using the perspective but change the style or turn it into a character au for a fandom you love. (this is part of that first tip!) mashing together images past the point of original intelligibility is acceptable as well. the goal isn’t to obsess over accuracy or stop using references altogether though, just to use them differently over time.

Inspiration/motivation won’t be gone forever. don’t force yourself to practice drawing, or you’ll end up resenting it altogether. i’ve had my tablet and pencil since january but i say 6 months bc there were two (almost three) entire months where i had no inspiration and just did Nothing. take time to consume new media for ideas or look at what inspires you instead! keep folders of the things you find most appealing to pull up when you need them. art can be a freeing escape if you allow it to be!

Look at art you admire and think about Why you admire it. why does it look good, what catches your eye most? is it the colors? the lighting? the shapes and perspective? the varied line thicknesses or the overall layout composition? everything can be broken down into components, hone in on the ones you like most and try to emulate them. we’re all just flowing down the stream of shared inspiration together. :)

bonus digital art tip: you will always need more layers than you think you do. give each element its own layer like it’s the most introverted mf you’ve ever met, i swear on everything good in this cursed world you will thank me later. layer/item selection and transform are your best goddamn friends for life.

there’s also a lot of art related posts in this tag and on my art twitter ♡ thank you endlessly again and good luck on your journey!!

[justcourttee]

hiiiii i don't know if you take prompts or requests or anything, but would you maybe consider writing a sequel to A Moment Too Late? maybe with a happy ending? i love your writing!!

I tried for what I’ll call a happy-ish ending, but I hope you still enjoy it! 

*WARNING* This piece and part 1 mention attempted suicide and can be difficult for some. Please, please, please be sure you feel comfortable reading about this topic before clicking below the title. 

In The Nick of Time

Damian took his first step into the city of love at 4:00 pm.  

He had a general idea of where to begin, but the combination of no sleep and jet lag was taking its toll. He had tried reaching out to her several times on the flight over, but she ignored his every effort. It could have just been the fact that she was in her classes. She may have been suicidal, but maybe she still took her education seriously?

It wasn’t likely, but it helped put his mind at some ease, hoping he still had time. His first order of business was renting a car. Technically speaking, his father had a villa on the outskirts of the city with a multitude of cars to pick from, but seeing as no one knew where he was, he wasn’t eager to tip them off.

He gazed over the taxis lined up, eagerly looking to take advantage of the tourists piling out of the airport behind him. He didn’t want someone to eager, he just needed someone who looked on the brim of exhaustion. His eyes landed on a poor man propped against his car, his eyes drooping like Tim before his first cup of the day. Perfect.

“Excuse me sir, but I’d like to rent your car from you for the day.”

The man peeked one eye open as he glanced warily over Damian.

“Scram kid, it’s a package deal, me and my car. You can’t just rent one or the other-”

Damian smirked as the man snatched the bundle of money from his hand, popping off the taxi light that stood on top of his car. As Damian slipped into the driver’s seat, he motioned for the man to step back over.

“Here’s a couple of extra bills to catch yourself a taxi home.”

The man’s mouth gaped as if he was searching for air underwater. Damian didn’t even bother to see if he would step back from the curb as he pulled off. The one benefit of the agonizing six-hour flight was Tim’s laptop. Damian had managed to hack into each of the high schools around the city until he narrowed it down to three Marinette’s. After looking at approximate ages and distance, he assumed she had to be the first; one Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Her family owned a bakery a little less than a mile from the high school and on the off chance she hadn’t stayed for any clubs or activities, she should be arriving there at any moment. Damian tapped the address into his phone ignoring the multitude of messages he had between his father and Dick.

It was a simple fifteen-minute drive from the airport.

Damian exhaled sharply as he sped down the exit. Fifteen minutes was enough time. It had to be enough time. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .  .

“Welcome to the bakery! Is there anything I can interest you to today?”

The woman’s face wore a mixture of fake smiles and exhaustion. It might’ve been enough to fool the average customer, but to Damian, she simply looked one gust of wind from collapsing.

“Uhm, I’m looking for Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng? Is she here?”

Instantly her fake smile dropped and the exhaustion settled into the creases of her face. There wasn’t even a hint of worry at the mention of her daughter’s name from a stranger’s mouth. It irritated him.

“Look, whatever she did now, we don’t have any money for a settlement. Maybe you can work out a deal with her, but we have nothing more to give.”

The woman offered him a half bow before pointing him to a small door at the back of the store. He assumed she meant for him to go through it and without another word, he stepped past her. As he made his way up the countless stairs, his irritation only grew.

He was well aware that there were parents out there indifferent to their children, but his soulmate wasn’t supposed to have one. She was always so happy and carefree when they were younger, abusing the bond whenever she could. He assumed it was because her parents had drilled into her that it was within her right too. But after that short interaction, he wasn’t so sure anymore.

Finally, a white door came into view. Hesitantly, he reached out the knob twisting without resistance. Inside was a moderate flat with what appeared to be an attic access. As first impressions went, he thought it seemed like a warm and gentle place to grow up in. Very different from the windowless stone building he began in.

He slipped out of his shoes, placing them beside a pair of light pink ballet flats before taking his first step. Someone was home and by the looks of it, it should be his soulmate. Damian contemplated on whether to call out or not. He didn’t want to frighten her, but he thought it might be worse if he just opened random doors instead. Finally, he settled on attempting their soulmate link once more.

“Marinette? Are you there?”

There was no answer, but he couldn’t be sure if that was just the continued strike from his earlier efforts. Tentatively, he took another step forward, his eyes scanning the apartment. It was pretty much an open concept, so he could see everything quite easily. The only thing that eluded him was the staircase leading above.

That had to be where she was.

“Marinette? That’s how you pronounce your name, right?” Damian sucked in a breath, resisting the urge to hit himself. No matter how he intended it, he sounded like he was some stalker here to kidnap her. “I’m not here to hurt you, I just wanted to talk.”

It didn’t sound any better. Maybe he should've stuck with a gentle introduction through their bond. Speaking out loud only reminded him how terrible he was with people. Animals were easier. Everything that needed to be said could be expressed through body language.

Biting the bullet, he decided it couldn’t get any worse than barging straight up the staircase into the attic. As he pushed open the access, the first thought that crossed his mind was-

“A mess,” clothes were strewn across the floor, remnants of paper scattered within the piles. The walls were a soft pink at one point, but it looked as if someone had taken a paint scraper to them, mere flakes hanging on by a thread. For such a well-put-together apartment, the room almost seemed abandoned.

Pulling himself into the room, Damian left his legs to dangle, his toes longing for the security of the stairs just below him. It didn't seem that she was in here either. He remembered passing another floor, perhaps that was also part of their apartment? Just as he decided to plant his feet back onto the sturdy steps, his fingers brushed over one of the scraps of paper he had seen earlier.

Instinctively, he pulled his hand away from the floor, his eyebrows furrowing. Damian was fairly certain that wasn’t how paper should feel. Reaching back out, he gathered a few nearby scraps. Turning them over one by one, a picture began to form. A group of girls, all laughing completely lost in a moment of time. His curiosity bested him as he pulled himself into the room, gathering each of the scraps he could find.

A half dozen photos was all he could form by the time he collected the larger pieces. Most were group shots, but two were of a blonde guy. Upon further analysis, he determined that he was the son of the fashion dictator Gabriel Agreste. He had seen the boy at a couple of Bruce’s international parties.

Perhaps she thought he was attractive? After all, the photos seemed to be ripped from a magazine, unlike the other four. As he glanced around the room once more, he felt like he had finally found a straw to grasp at. A reason she dropped so far, so fast.

But as much as he gathered from her room, he still had no idea as to where she might be. Her shoes were at the door, but it didn’t seem as if she was anywhere in the apartment. Standing slowly, Damian took a step back toward the access he had entered through when a breeze tickled the back of his neck.

His entire body stiffened as his hand moved slowly to where he kept his emergency kunai.

“Is that you, Marinette? If so, you’re pretty good at masking your presence. I didn’t even sense you approaching.”

There was no response, but now that he knew she was there, it was easier to pick up on her shallow breathing. In one swift movement, Damian flicked his wrist backward, ducking to avoid any retaliation.

A soft grunt earned a glance backward, his eyes widening a bit at the sight. She hadn’t even tried to dodge it. Lodged into her right shoulder was his kunai, and just below it, centimeters away from her heart, was a pocket knife. A bright pink light blinded him and instinctively his arms darted out. When he could see again, a petite figure rested against his frame.

“Marinette?” She was unresponsive, a deep ruby dripping from her wounds. “Marinette!”

What was this panic he felt rising? He’d seen comrades die on the battlefield before, wounds more deadly than this. So why couldn’t he move? Logically, he knew he had to act fast, but his body wouldn’t inch.

“You’re her soulmate, right? Do something!” Damian’s head snapped up, but he couldn’t find where the voice came from. Whoever it was, it was enough to break whatever daze he had fallen into.

“Okay Marinette, I have basic medical training and I can patch you, slow the bleeding, but I can’t remove either blade. Do you understand? I’m going to have to move you, quickly and as stable as possible.” Her breathing was shallow, but her eyelids flickered in what he hoped was a response. As gently as her could, he lifted her into his arms, attempting to avoid moving either stab wound. Her soft grunt pulled at his heart. “Hold on a little longer Marinette, please, I need to apologize.”

The stairs were one agonizing moment after another and as he laid her into the backseat of his rented car, he felt winded himself. Sliding into the driver’s seat, Damian quickly pulled out his phone, cursing as it slid through his hands.

“Dammit, where did it fall?” He frantically searched, his heart rate rising with every passing moment. Was this the world’s way of punishing him? He killed and fought and argued every passing moment of his life. He pushed her away and now that he thought he was making a change, he could just waltz back into her life as if nothing had happened? He wasn’t going to make it.

“Just drive, I’ll guide you.” Had he finally lost it? It was the same imaginary voice he had heard before. Perhaps it was his subconscious, a guardian angel? Could he really trust it? “Drive boy, take a left at the stop sign.”

He couldn’t afford to wait another moment so he did what felt most logical; he drove. The drive was killing him, each painful breath becoming slower, a dagger to his heart as they escaped from her mouth.

“Just leave the car in the front, save my friend.” The only thing keeping him going was the voice.

Damian had barely parked, his feet already slamming on the pavement before the engine had stopped. Gathering her into his arms, he burst through the sliding doors, the fear rising in his throat.

“Help! I need help!” He knew his French was rusty, but he had to try. The nurse tentatively approached him, her gasp needing no explanation. A stretcher was rushed, and as they ripped her from his arms, Damian couldn’t help the anger he felt.

“Be careful with her! She’s going to die if they shift too much!” A security guard stepped over, his hands raised as if he meant to calm Damian. He took another step forward, trying to grip Damian’s arm. “What are you doing? I need to be with her! Marinette I’m right here! Can’t you hear me? I need you Marinette! Please don’t leave me!”

Damian watched as they placed the stethoscope on her chest, grim expressions hastening their step.

“Don’t look at her like that! Help her! Please!” It felt as if his lungs were collapsing, his vision blurring. Why was he reacting like this? He barely knew her. In fact, this was his first time ever seeing her.

“Sir, please calm down. They are treating your friend right now, the best thing you can do for her is sit and wait.”

The man led him to a couch where his legs finally caved, his back sinking into the chair. Damian lifted his hands to his face, wiping the tears he hadn’t even realized he had cried, but it only left his cheeks damper than before. Slowly, he pulled back his hands, his stomach plummeting. There wasn’t an inch of skin left uncovered by the red.

“Oh, oh,” Had he really not noticed how much blood she had lost? He was so focused on getting her here that he didn’t even consider if she would make it. “I thought I could make it, I thought I still had time.”

Damian recognized this feeling rising in his chest. It was the same as when he collapsed on the roof, the same as when he heard from her after so many years of silence. Was this what his mother meant by a soulmate bond being a distraction?

He had never understood why people took the insane challenge of fighting his Grandfather for a chance to leave the league in search of their soulmate. If he was honest, he thought it was a pointless endeavor and he couldn’t begin to imagine how someone believed they could pull it off. But, as his chest tightened with the rising waves of nausea, a realization washed over him.

A soulmate bond was so powerful that even if you just met them, you felt the need to protect them, to care for them. You became vulnerable for them, scared to lose them, terrified of how the world would be without them. It was a terrible weakness and a strong ally.

“Can you walk to the bathroom?” Damian felt his head stir, but it was as if it were being pulled by strings, out of his control. “I’ll explain everything if you could just meet me there.”

How could this voice be so all-knowing? Hadn’t it just surfaced from his subconscious as a way to kickstart his movement again? Yet, if that were the case, why did he find himself rising, stumbling toward the bathroom in a daze?

He slipped into the closest stall, collapsing against the door, the minute it locked. Why did he feel so drained? It was less than 500 feet.

“Do you need to sit down? I know that this must be hard on you.”

Damian’s eyes scanned the stall in search of a source for the voice, but alas, he came up with nothing. Sliding to the ground, he chuckled to himself, his hand clutching his shirt.

“I’ve finally lost it. Todd told me this day would come, but how could a dumbass like him even know?”

“You haven’t lost anything, I’m right in front of you, you just have to push through the veil.”

Damian perked up, squinting his eyes at the space directly in front of him. Slowly, but surely, his eyes focused on a red blur until the floating object came into full view.

“Holy shi-” Two paw-like things pressed his lips together, a disapproving look monopolizing its small face.

“Can you keep it down? And what’s with all this foul language? I can’t say I approve of you being my Chosen’s soulmate with a mouth like that.”

It floated a few inches away, crossing its arms as if trying to push the point across. Damian tried to swallow, but his mouth was dry. He was positive that he hadn’t had anything. Perhaps this was one of those sleepless hallucinations that Drake constantly rambled on about?

“I know that look, I’m not a hallucination, I’m a kwamii! My name is Tikki and I am Marinette’s partner. Together, we merge to become the superheroine of Paris, Ladybug.”

Ladybug? He had heard Bruce mention a Parisian team. They asked for any heroes to stay out of Paris as their villain was one that manipulated emotions, turning his victims into puppets of his own bidding. No wonder Bruce and Dick were blowing up his phone. They weren’t just worried about him running off, they were also worried about him breaking an international treaty.

Damian blinked slowly as he processed the image in front of him. Kwamiis. He had heard the legend of them back when he was apart of the League of Assassins, but he had no idea they truly existed. Why was his soulmate in possession of the most powerful being in the world?

“It’s a long story soulmate of the Chosen. I have traveled long and wide and have had many wielders before, but never one as capable as Marinette. When I first found myself as her partner, she was clumsy and shy, but so friendly and kind, always going out of her way to help people. Together, we defeated the original Hawkmoth, but in the battle, his kwamii was reclaimed by one of his partners and a new Lady Hawk emerged.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The kwamii shot him a questioning look as if the answer was obvious.

“I’m trying to give you the full picture of where it all began. You blame yourself as the catalyst, but you were only a small stepping stone in her downfall, almost not worth mentioning.”

Damian felt an odd swelling in his chest. It almost felt like, relief? Had he really been this worried that he had pushed her down this path? A lonesome tear trickled from his eye, but he was quick to snatch away.

“Marinette had friends, a boyfriend even. She wasn’t completely lost without a soulmate. After all, her parents weren’t soulmates, and her best friend was rejected by their soulmate too. She was happy.” The kwamii paused, her smile reminiscing before it slowly morphed into a frown. But it all changed when a wretched girl transferred into her middle school.”

“Just one girl changed everything?”

The kwamii nodded, small tears forming.

“She was the real catalyst. The reason everything fell apart.”

Damian lost track of how long he sat listening to the small God. When he stood to return to the waiting room, he couldn’t help but clench his fist in an attempt to calm himself. Marinette had to pull through, she just had to. Damian had to show her that there was more to life than this shitty one in Paris. He had to rescue her like his family had for him.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was 36 hours before he was allowed back to see her.

She had been lucky, the knife had missed her vital organs and even though it had punctured her lung, she seemed to be on track for a full recovery, one that she needed to take slowly. Damian dealt with the police on her behalf and thanks to Tikki’s information, he was able to help them identify the mugger.

Tikki had gone ahead to talk to Marinette and to give him time to freshen up. He didn’t have much, but the little he had packed at least got him fresh clothing, clothing not stained with her blood. Alfred would not be happy with him once he returned.

Damian was unsure how to approach her. He had found some flowers in the gift shop he thought were nice and some chocolates as well. But as he stood in front of her hospital room, he realized he hadn’t figured out the first thing he should say to her.

I’m sorry? No, that sounded too arrogant after everything she had been through. My name’s Damian, I saved your life? No, that would be condescending. God, he really hated talking to people.

“Are you going to come in or just sit outside all day?” Her voice sent shivers down his spine. She hadn’t always been this cold, but he couldn’t blame her.

Hesitantly, he reached out, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. She looked angry, slight red emphasized on her pale skin, the dark circles under her eyes protruding as if they dared him to comment on them. There were a million and one wires and tubes poking out in different directions, some hooked to machines, some to random bags of fluid.

Yet, despite all of it, she still looked absolutely stunning.

“Well, sit down or something. You’re creeping me out just standing there.”

Damian shuffled awkwardly to the opposite side of her bed, his legs wobbling as he lowered himself into the chair.

“Uhm, I brought you some flowers-”

“I hate the color white.” Damian felt his eyebrow twitch, but he tried his best to hold back the expression he felt. Gently, he reached back, setting the flowers on the windowsill.

“I-Uhm-I also brought you some chocolat-”

“I’m on a liquid-only diet for the next two weeks.”

Damian could feel the red rushing to his face as he breathed deeply. He knew there was a chance that she would be spiteful, but he hadn’t been completely ready for it. His fuse was short, even if it was his soulmate, he wasn’t sure he could contain the explosion.

“Are you feeling any better?” Marinette scoffed, her eyes never leaving her hands.

“Did you fly all the way to Paris for small talk Damian?” He wasn’t sure how to respond, knowing his next words might be his last. “Ask what you really want to. Like why did I detransform before trying to face the mugger? Or why have I tried to kill myself multiple times even if each time ended in failure?”

“I-”

“Ask me why all my friends left me. Ask me why my master chose the easy way out, forgetting everything before passing on weeks later without even a single message about his death from him or his girlfriend. Ask me why I hate life so much that I just don’t see the reason in living anymore. Ask me if I think you’ll change my mind! Spoiler alert! You won’-”

“God woman, do you ever shut up? Give me five damn seconds to get my thoughts together.”

Damian instantly felt the eyes of Tikki fall upon him, the anger draining from his body only to be replaced by his rising fear. He felt the apology building up, but before he could even let the first word spill out, a bitter laugh cut him off.

“Yeah, I do shut up. But only sometimes. I figured Tikki told you everything. I also figured you’d have questions. I’m not interested in telling my sob story over again and I’m not interested in some knight in shining armor swooping in to save me, Got it?”

Damian tried to speak, but it was as if his voice were caught in his throat. What could he say to her? He wasn’t trying to be her knight? He didn’t need her explanations? Everything sounded so thoughtless, but he couldn’t string together one coherent and earnest sentence to save his life.

“What I am interested in is your nonsensical shouting. You ‘need me’? You just met me, how do you know that you need me?”

If he wasn’t already as red as a tomato, he was certain that was how he looked now.

“I,” he cleared his voice, praying to whatever was listening to keep the crack away, “I just had this feeling swell up in my chest seeing you like that. I was terrified and it scared me. It scared me to feel that way about someone who I had just laid eyes on. I had heard about soulmate bonds and how they affect you. They can strengthen you, but they can also be your downfall. I needed to get to know you, to know how our bond would affect me.”

He paused, the feeling of her eyes on him choking him up.

“I, uh, I know it’s selfish, but I couldn’t let you die. You don’t have to believe me, you don’t even have to listen to me, but I have been where you are before. But before I could even make my first attempt, I had a group of people come into my life, people who lifted me up and saved me. I was scared that you didn’t have that and I arrogantly believed I could do that for you. I’m truly sorry Marinette,  but I refuse to apologize for saving your life. If I could, I would do it over and over and over again as many times as it takes until you decide to keep living.”

The silence was deafening. Even if she just yelled at him and told him to leave, he would take it over this quiet. He didn’t dare look up, he barely felt the urge to breathe. It was as if everything fiber in him was holding their breath, waiting to hear her response, any response.

“You’re really not gonna leave me alone, huh?”

Her voice sounded tight as if she were holding back tears. The urge surged through him to reach forward and pull her into a hug, but he contained himself, defaulting to a simple nod instead. Again, the silence followed, but he was patient. He would wait all day if it meant hearing her speak again.

“Fine. I’m not guaranteeing a damn thing, but I can offer you a start.”

“A start?” Damian risked a small glance up, his heart racing at the sight. She was smiling, a genuine smile. It looked out of place among her tear-stained face, but he would be lying if he didn’t say it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Yeah, apparently I’m going to need someone to stay by my side 24/7 when they release me. Someone to take care of me. A stay-at-home nurse if you will. So, I nominate you, Damian. Your response?”

“Absolutely, it would be my honor.” His reply was instant, his smile unwavering even after she chucked her pillow at him, cussing him out in a manner that Todd would be proud of.

Yes, it was just a start. Yes, it didn't mean anything was fixed. But, there was one thing that put his heart at ease.

He wasn’t too late.

No, in fact, he was just in time to save her life. And at that very moment, he vowed to never wait till it was almost too late again.

Despite everything that had happened, he decided he could live with that.

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[corpsedaydream]

paint wars part 2

OKAY HERE IT IS! PART TWO TO PAINT WARS

if u haven’t read part one, i’ll link it right here

word count: 3k (yikes it’s a long one)

_______________________________

paint wars part 2

Things had been rough lately.

Real fucking rough.

You missed Corpse so much. You hadn’t spoken to each other since that fight at his apartment and that was fifty-four days ago now, almost two thirds of a season you’d been without him.

“I miss you.” You spoke aloud into the emptiness of your apartment, noting that the time on your phone now said 12:01am. It was officially now day fifty-five without speaking to him.

You swiped away all your notifications on your lock screen, ignoring everything and everyone that was trying to reach you right now so you could look at the person who was ignoring you. You wanted to look at the photo that was still your wallpaper. That first photo you’d ever taken together.

You went to change it on day thirty-eight of not speaking. On night thirty-seven of not speaking you’d gone out with your friends, they’d finally convinced you after a whole month of trying and you got absolutely wasted. So of course you’d called Corpse. But he didn’t answer, not any of the fifteen times you’d called. So that next morning, when you woke up hungover and saw that same lock screen photo and not one response from him, you told yourself you were going to change it. You tried to tell yourself you were angry, but it was just a coping mechanism to ignore the hurt that had been tunnelling through your heart since being without him. You spent an hour scouring tumblr and twitter for some aesthetically pleasing lock screen, but you didn’t save a single one. Nothing could compare to that photo of you and Corpse.

You then started to wonder if he’d listened to any of the voicemails you’d left the night before. You couldn’t remember them exactly, but you knew you definitely left four of them and how badly you wanted to know if the curiosity became too much to bear and he’d listened to them.

And he had.

On night thirty-seven, while you were out drinking, Corpse was in a deep sleep. He hadn’t been sleeping a whole lot lately, so finally, he’d crashed hard that night and slept through the calls you’d made to him. But even though he wasn’t aware of the calls in his sleeping state, you were still present in his dreamland. Every adventure his brain took him on was with you, maybe it was something that kept him asleep, the fact that you were right there in this fantasy. You were talking to him again, he could see your smile, hear your laugh, reach out and grab your hand, he could kiss you again. It was happiness. But then he woke up and he went to reach out for you in his bed, still caught up in the false wonder his dreams had provided him, only to find it was just him and reality slapped him fully awake. You weren’t there with him. You hadn’t been for a number of weeks. He missed you.

On day thirty-eight, when he spotted the missed calls from you on his phone, he cursed himself for being asleep and missing it. But would he had answered had he been awake? He wasn’t sure. So instead, he heard you speak to him for the first time in so long, even if it was through a voicemail you had left in the space of him not answering your calls.

“Oh, fuck- oh my god.”

That was it. That was the first voicemail, there was a lot of background noise but he had heard you so clearly. In your drunken state, you didn’t know what to say, so that’s what you had left with him, until you called back and left another.

"Hi.” You started it simple. He had the phone clutched so tightly in his hand, the device pressed so firmly against his ear, he didn’t want to miss a word. “I- I don’know what to say.” He noticed the slight slur to your words then, you were drunk when you had called. “I’m’a just go.”

You hung up again, but alas, there was another.

“Can I just ask... are you ignoring me?” Your voice was so meek, his chest hurt at the sound of it. He almost went to say no, but this was a one sided conversation, he’d missed the opportunity. “I miss you.” You hung up again, and he had to stop himself from replaying it over and over again to hear you say that you missed him.

But there was one last voice mail.

“I should stop calling, huh?” You sighed and he could picture you with a sad pout, your eyes all droopy with a mix emotion and alcohol. “But, I just want’a talk to you.” You confessed, then he heard another voice call your name in the background before they spoke to you and he listened. “(Y/N)! Here you are, what are you doing? That guys wondering where you are, he’s fucking hot-”

Corpse hung up then, he didn’t want to hear anymore. Jealousy was surging through him as the unwanted images of you with someone else plagued his mind and he threw his phone across his room. Wishing he hadn’t of started listening to those fucking voicemails.

What he didn’t know, though, is how the rest of that last voicemail went.

“I really don’t care.” You’d told your friend at the mention of the guy. Yeah, he was attractive and he was buying you drinks, but you wanted no one except Corpse. “Give me a sec.” You’d told your friend before walking away again, bringing your phone back to your ear to talk to the only person you wanted to talk to right now, even if he wasn’t on the other end of that call. “I hope you didn’t hear that, but if you did, don’t worry it. I’m g’na go home now.” You sighed and looked up at the night sky, there was no shooting star, or really any stars at all because of the light pollution from where you currently were, but you were still wishing that by some magic happenstance, Corpse would pick up his phone and speak to you again. “I wish I was going to yours.”

On day thirty-nine you cried so hard. You thought you had made it past this violently sobbing stage, this was exact state you’d cried yourself to sleep to each night for the first few weeks. Your heart was in so much pain, it was torn apart and you swore only one person had the power to stitch it back together, but he wasn’t there. You hadn’t heard a single thing from him. Were you two still together? Had you broken up? You weren’t even sure. But on day thirty-nine you cried that hard again because Corpse hadn’t responded at all to your calls or voicemails, so you convinced yourself he truly wanted nothing to do with you.

You’d been avoiding searching his name on social media, knowing it would send you into a spiral and you’d overthink every little thing but on day forty-two you’d noticed on twitter that he was playing games live. He wasn’t live himself, but you watched someone’s stream just to hear him again. You cried again doing this, because he was being exceptionally quiet, he wasn’t his normal self, he barely laughed once.

You wished you hadn’t clicked on it. The guilt you felt was already immense, but hearing him so not like himself made you feel even worse for causing all of this. You stopped watching, you couldn’t bear it. You knew you were to blame for all of this, you pushed him too far, you couldn’t believe how stupidly you had acted, you knew better and you did it anyway. The self attacking thoughts kept swirling your mind until you gave yourself a headache.

On day fifty-six of still not talking to each other, you ventured out to the beach with just your best friend. She’d been there for you a lot lately, she also felt bad about that night, but you tried to assured her it was your own fault. She didn’t know Corpse like you did, she didn’t know him at all, that’s why you felt to blame for not stopping the idea before it was too late.

“You should put sunscreen on.” Your best friend told you. You were laying on your towel in the direct sun, enjoying the warmth blasting into your skin, you hadn’t been to the beach in such a long time.

“Yeah.” You answered her, but you knew you weren’t going to. Another time, you would have, you knew the familiar sting of sunburn well and you normally put it on to look after your skin, but you hadn’t really been taking care of yourself too well lately, you just didn’t care enough.

On night fifty-six, you stood in front of your bathroom mirror looking over your body. You’d spent a lot longer at the beach than you realised and now you were burnt so badly and as red as a tomato. “Fuck.” You said out loud, turning and looking over your shoulder to inspect your back, it was just as red. You should’ve worn sunscreen. You left your bathroom to go find your aloe vera plant, only to find that it was dead. “Fuck!” You repeated, the one hope you had to help heal your skin even slightly quickly vanishing. “Oh, fuck. What am I going to do?”

That’s how you found yourself heading towards a 24 hour store to purchase whatever aloe vera cream or gel you could find, you knew it wouldn’t be as good as the plant itself, but you needed something. It was late and you were anxious as you neared the shop, you knew about this place from Corpse, he would often go there at odd hours to get whatever he needed. It was close to his place and you hadn’t driven around this area since that disaster of a night.

You squinted your eyes as you walked in and the harsh fluorescent lights pierced into your eyes after walking in from the night time. You were walking quickly and you told yourself it was because you were embarrassed about your skin being so burnt and you didn’t want anyone to see you like this, but it was really because you were so anxious over the thought of who you could potentially run into in this shop. Your swift steps brought you to the skin care isle and you let your eyes scan the shelves for the aloe vera you so desperately sought out.

“(Y/N)?”

You froze completely and you swore you even felt your heart stop beating. Hearing his voice speak your name again felt like lighting had struck right through you. This couldn’t be real, this had to be your imagination playing some sort of sick joke on you. Slowly, you turned towards the direction his voice had come from and sure enough, there he was. Dressed in all black, a beanie on his head and a mask over the bottom half of his face, your eyes locked with his. There was a pull in your chest, your heart had heard him, too and it wanted so badly to be with him, to be healed by him. You had thought up this scenario a million times over these past fifty-six days, of what would happen had you and him had a run in like this and in every single one you had so much to say, but right now, you were speechless.

Before you had a chance to even try to say anything if you managed to stop being stuck in silence, Corpse spoke again.

“Fucking hell,” He neared you and you sucked in a quick breath at his sudden movement. “Look how burnt you are.” You were wearing tights and an oversized hoodie, so your entire body was covered, but your face was just as burnt and clearly he had noticed. 

This was another aspect that didn’t fit into your scenarios you’d thought up about this moment. You’d imagined you would’ve look amazing. But instead of looking like some beautiful mermaid, you were the same colour as Ariel’s hair from The Little Mermaid. “I know, don’t look at me.” You huffed and dropped your head down, letting your beach waved hair fall around your face.

“You didn’t wear sunscreen?”

“Obviously not.”

“That was silly.”

“I know.”

“Are you sore?”

“Yeah.” It felt so natural to have this back and forth with him. It was brief, but it was enough for your heart to kick back into gear and speed up.

He stayed silent for a prolonged moment so you looked back to his face and his eyes were on your face but it was his turn to glance away then and you took the opportunity to really soak in his side profile. You’d even missed just being able to look at him. 

“Why are you here?” He asked you.

“I need aloe vera and I knew this place would be open.”

“You’re not using your plant?” Butterflies fluttered inside of you that he remembered a simple mundane fact that you preferred the healing touch of the actual plant for sunburn as opposed to what was bought at a store in a bottle.

“It died.”

Corpse suddenly looked back to you and much to your surprise, he laughed.

“Why are you laughing?!”

“How do you kill a succulent?”

“You know I’m not good at gardening and shit like that.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d be able to kill a succulent.” He laughed harder and you started to smile, he was teasing you but it felt so right. And hearing his laughter filled you with a warmth you’d been missing.

“Shut up.” You told him, but you were beginning to laugh too. “It’s hard to keep plants alive.”

“(Y/N), succulents are pretty much impossible to kill.”

“Okay, I get it, I didn’t purposely murder my aloe vera plant.”

“Oh, baby.” The pet name slipped so easily from his lips but it caught you both off guard, so the both of you stopped laughing and your postures stiffened.

Briefly, your eyes met but each of you darted your vision elsewhere. However, neither of you made no effort to move away from one another.

“Sorry.” Corpse said softly.

“It’s okay.” And it was, so okay. You wanted to tell him that hearing him call you baby was all you’d been wanting to hear again over these almost fifty-seven days without him. “I should really get this aloe vera gel on me, though.” You really didn’t want to leave him, but you couldn’t stand in this store forever.

“Are you sunburnt all over?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You sighed

And just as instinctively as the pet name had slipped out, his hands started to move towards the sleeve of your jumper. But he stopped himself when you flinched slightly and he quickly realised what he was doing. “Sorry, can I see?”

“I mean, you can, but I don’t want you to do it because it does really fucking hurt. That’s why I jumped, not because I don’t want you to touch me.” You answered him quickly. “I do want you to touch me- wait, I mean, no.” If your face wasn’t already red from the sunburn, it would have become red then from the blush you could feel forming. And if your skin wasn’t in pain you would have facepalmed yourself. “Sorry.” You apologised then.

“It’s okay.”

Shaking your head, you began to gently slide the sleeve of your big hoodie up.

“Fuck, (Y/N).” Corpse cursed, concern filling him as your skin was practically glowing from the burn it had copped. “You can’t do that to yourself.”

“I know.”

“How long were you at the beach?”

“All day pretty much.”

“You’re that burnt all over?”

“Yeah, I mean, some spots are worse. I think my back and shoulders are probably the worst. They hurt the most.”

He moved to step around you then, disappearing out of your sight as he was now standing behind you. “Can I?”

“Yeah, just be careful.”

And he made sure to keep his movements cautious, he decided on looking from the top, his hands grabbing the neck on the back of your hoodie to pull it back ever so gently so he could inspect. His eyes widened in a combination horror, worry and sympathy. He’d seen you get sunburnt before, but never to this extent. “Oh my fucking god.” The contrast between where the strap of your togs sat over your shoulder, blocking a sliver of your skin from the sun to keep it its natural colour versus the red that was brought from the burn was insane. “It looks like someone has painted you.”

“I mean, I guess the sun did. Just in a really painful way.”

“You’re not planning on going to the beach anytime soon, right?” Corpse carefully released your hoodie then and stepped in front of you once more. Distress was so present on his face, despite most of it being covered. He was so worried about you in this moment.

“Definitely not. The only thing I’m planning on is not going outside in any sunlight until my skin is healed.”

“Living like me.”

“Guess so.”

“My aloe vera plant is alive.” He stated.

“Wow, you’re really just going to flex that right now? Trying to kick me while I’m down.” You joked back, assuming he was teasing you.

“No, I mean...” He trailed off, his eyes struggling to stay on yours as he continued. “You could come over and use it, I know you like the real stuff better and I could help do your back, or wherever you can’t reach.” He was nervous, but he really didn’t have to be.

You could feel it happening, your heart beginning to heal.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Do you want to?”

“Yeah.”

[koko-bopp]

Printing Room

jeong yuno x male!reader

word count - 1.9K

genre - SMUT, minor fluff

contents - semi-public sex? Mild exhibitionism, top-dom!Jaehyun, bottom!reader, fingering, overstimulation, praise and degrading, office sex. NO GENITALIA MENTIONS

synopsis -  working in an office can be really annoying, desk jobs aren't exactly entertaining, But Jaehyun is definitely something you look forward to in your day.

“Hey, Jae,” You giggle, giving a greeting upon finding your work-colleauge also at the printing room, “Fancy seeing you here.”

It was close to midnight, and usually, you'd already be out the door by now; it was just Mark from finance, two security guards patrolling the floors and maybe the janitor in the building right now. The floor was dimmed since nobody was really here, it was just a few desk lamps, computer screens and the printing room light that were used for illumination at this time; maybe the city's lights can also be counted as a source.

It wasn't uncommon for Jaehyun to be working late, you'd bought takeaway-dinner a few times because the guy forgot to eat, but you didn't mind; he's hard-working and handsome.

Jae chuckled, "Hey, boss," opening the top of the photo-copying machine then flipping the paper over to get a print of the other side, pressing a few buttons, scanning his employers' card on the machine before allowing it to do its job.

You weren't really Jaehyun's boss, just in this specific workplace you're the leader of the team and Jaehyun just happened to be on it.

He turned to look at you once again, the tool making a few noises in the background as he spoke, "You here to print something?" Jaehyun asked.

You realised that you'd just walked in because Jaehyun was here too, not having any intention to use the room for the reason it was there for. You became nervous, knowing your mistake, "I- yeah."

"Really? I.. don't see any papers with you," he pointed out. You could tell he was fighting back a snicker, but his observations were making you nervous, couldn't you just admire another attractive man without the exposé?

"No, I mean, I just wanted to say hello.. you know, ask about your day and–"

His small chuckle accidentally cut off your frantic desperation to keep your intentions hidden. Jaehyun knew you had a crush on him, or at least admired him beyond platonic desires. You weren't exactly the best at pretending not to be flustered when he'd point things out, calling your bluff. Jaehyun decided to lean his back against the counter where all the stationery is, crossing his arms over his chest, "You're really cute, you know that?"

You were taken back by the statement, blinking once before you averted your gaze to cough once like it would release some tension. "That's not–" you were going to end you'd sentence with 'professional' but Jaehyun beat you to it.

"–Neither is your behaviour but I'm going to be honest, [Y/N]," Jaehyun turned the printer off, you were leaned against the adjacent table where the print-outs that weren't picked up were, so Jaehyun took the opportunity to close the door, a scandalous grin on his lips as the door clicked lock. He motioned his gaze at you; your thighs were not so discreetly closed together, arms crossed over your chest like you didn't care what he was doing but expression read flustered beyond belief.

It was cute, attractive, like you'd thought about this before and you didn't know if you were going to push him away or not.

"Is there a boyfriend I should be taking into consideration?" Jaehyun asks, sleeping with taken men were against his rules, the thought of it makes him feel beyond guilty.

"No... There isn't," you responded.

Jaehyun now fully having you trapped between his body and the timber counter, hands on the edge as he leaned in. You couldn't help but move your head down to avoid the man from touching your lips out of fluster; It would make anyone shy, but you heard him chuckle softly, pressing his hips against yours instead, smirking at the little whimper leaving your lips, moving his head down to place little butterfly kisses going your jaw, "You okay with me fucking you, pretty boy?'

You didn't even realise that your hips thrust up at his words, your hand reflexing up to grab the fabric around his bicep at the familiar feeling of arousal. "I- I'm okay with it.." you choke out a response.

"Even though we're at work?" Jaehyun asks, his hands flat against your hip bones as he leaned down to press his lips against the skin of your neck; they were soft but firm, gentle but rough enough for you to crave more. Your head leaning back to give him the space to touch you, shy breaths erupting from the sensation. Jaehyun whispered against your skin; "Even though someone can walk in at any time?" He asks, reaching one hand up to loosen the tie around your collar, pulling it down and throwing it onto the floor, followed by his fingers moving in a way to unbutton your dress-shirt, "You're a little freak, aren't you?"

If that didn't make you buck up. Oh, to be fucked by Jaehyun, it would be a blatant lie to say that it hadn't crossed your mind; fantasy tends to be different from reality, you'd have sleepless nights about the man in front of you, fantasies that he would have you bent over your bosses desk with your ass in the air, barely being able to keep your composure from how much he teases you, cum sinfully leaking down to the carpet and Jaehyun's hand wrapped around your neck, peppering kisses against your skin like he was a lover.

Footsteps passed the room, both your attention turning to the door, watching the silhouette from underneath the door leave; and just as it did, Jaehyun lifted you up to place you on the timber counter properly, getting rid of the papers beforehand as both your lips connected.

It was desperate, quick and so much passion; God knows how much you two were eyeing each other since the attraction built, making jokes about how 'any man would be lucky to have you' or the sexual tension when you two were discussing a project at meetings. You threw your hands into his brown hair, his hands touching your skin accidentally as he undid all the buttons on the shirt, not yet throwing it off your shoulders.

"Fuck, you're so hot," Jaehyun grunts, admiring your body for a quick moment before throwing off his own shirt, discarding clothes on the floor.

You couldn't help but stare at his toned body, gold skin, an alluring stare, your face felt hot but he leaned back in again, this time more gentle as he captured your lips with his; this time it was more mellow, you weren't complaining, because it was the feeling of his hands wandering around your body that made it arousing.

"You literally don't know..." Jaehyun whispered in between the kiss, pushing himself against you that bit harder to get a moan to escape your lips to the point you can feel his smirk, "...you don't how long I've wanted you like this."

You giggle softly, wrapping your legs around Jaehyun's waist to bring him much closer, "In the printing room?"

Jaehyun laughed, "Touché."

The brunet kisses down your neck, painting stripes with his tongue while his hands gripped your hips. You make soft whines and giggles at the sensation, moaning when he bit down, telling him not to leave marks because you two knew damn well that employees and coworkers will be asking one too many questions if they saw such a thing.

"Don't worry," Jaehyun grins cheekily, pecking a kiss on your nose, "They'll just wish they were in my position. Now turn around."

You did as you were asked. Jaehyun took his time, prepping and lubing since it would be very ungentlemanly of him not to. There was the occasional chuckle he'd let out when you pushed back against his fingers, quivering like your knees were going to give in, laughing at you when you let out a particularly loud moan, using that as an advantage to push in another finger. "Hush, pretty boy, won't want to get caught with my fingers deep in your ass now, would you?" He whispered against your shoulder, his free hand coming up to play with your chest, letting his rough hands wander all over it.

"J-Jae, please," you sighed, closing your eyes and dipping your head down, your arms holding the timber counter.

Jaehyun brushed his lips over your shoulder and up to your neck, letting them butterfly but his hands were heavily contradicting his actions on your neck as he took your beg as his welcome to push his fingers deeper and faster, smirking when you couldn't help your head shoot up and mouth open, your body shook at the sensation, you thighs closing as if it would help with anything. Jaehyun smirked but ran a smile against your neck, “If you cum, you best believe I’ll make you wish I put a gag on you,” he said softly. “Now. Please what, pretty boy?”

You had to put a hand over your mouth, your cheeks felt hot at his words and moans threatened to spill from the gaps between your fingers but you tried your hardest to make coherent words, "I need more, Jae.. please."

Jaehyun hummed, he pushed his fingers hard into you one last time, but the jolt made your legs tremble as he kept his fingers buried. He wasn't happy with the answer, but you cried out in pure sin and he couldn't help but enjoy the sound, "I'm gonna ask you one more– oh, what have we here?"

A mixture of fright and guilt washed over your orgasmic and shaky body, the only thing keeping you on your feet was Jaehyun's body against yours and even then the evidence of your orgasm made Jaehyun chuckle.

"Did you cum without permission, [Y/N]?" Jaehyun asked, keeping his fingers firmly burried as he spoke lowly.

You shook your head, not in attempts to deny the truth but out of guilt and repentance, "I-I didn't mean to I just–!"

"–Shhh, it's okay, I'm glad I made you feel good," Jaehyun began placing little kisses along your back. The sensation mixing emotions in the pit of your stomach, but as soon as you had a moment to collect your thoughts, Jaehyun began thrusting his fingers back into your ass, pushing at the furthest point with overstimulated moans leaving your mouth. Jaehyun leaned forward to whisper in your ear, "But I did warn you, didn't I?"

[cavvaje]

Hearth and Rime | Ch. 1

Pairing: M!Eivor x Reader

Summary: Eivor has had a rough day and you make him feel better :)

Words: 1600~

Genre: Fluff, Comfort?

Warnings: Spoilers for end of Cent Arc! | Somewhat suggestive fade to black

Note: Still a bit new to writing fics, so sorry if its a bit rough around the edges!

I actually finished this in time for valentines but just kept editing it and being too nervous to actually post it? Then decided to retake all the photos lol... 

This is also a continuation of the first fic I put up, BUT you don’t need to read it to understand (it was like 200 words). Here’s a link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ The home is modest for its outwards appearance. According to Eivor, the last occupants were runaway Saxons, who fled the day after they saw him in the area. They didn’t leave much behind, but it’s serviceable.

“Smells good!” Eivor stands by a cooking pot in the corner, setting down the bright torch in his hand. He turns to you with a cheeky look.

“Here,” He says, untying his cloak. The Viking comes to you as you stand in front of the doorway. His cloak needs to go over, and so you squeeze your head through the hole. “This should help you warm up.” 

Gentle arms reach around your shoulders, and instinctually, your arms begin to trace his waist to his back. Adrenaline surges in cold shivers: from your arms through to your spine. Your face is practically buried in the nook between his neck and shoulder. You hold each other a moment, checking off an imaginary checklist of things that make him real. His warmth, his scent, his breath...

A tight tug wakes you up; the cloak has been set, albeit loosely. He lets go of the embrace. Even as he leaves, the cloak maintains his warmth.

“It smells like blood…”

He chuckles lightly, “Does it now?... Surprise?” he flips his axe in one hand, starts drying the rainwater off the metal, then sets it down. He motions towards the steaming pot. “Can I dig in?”

You stare at him as he pulls off the bracers and his hidden blade. He looks back a moment later, puzzled.

“I missed you, Eivor.” You say, plainly.

“Ah…” he pulls you in for a proper hug this time; his arms hold you tight. “I missed you too.” 

“Mmm… what’s bothering you Drengr?”

You feel the sigh heavily from the movement of his chest against yours. “Please, let me eat…”

“Of course! Sorry. Must’ve been a long trip...” 

“No no, don’t be.” He lets go, but locks his eyes on yours, and gives a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “I’ll explain, I won’t be like Sigurd.” 

“Like Sigurd?” 

His weight falls heavy on the stool, as he grabs a bowl. 

You pace towards him slowly, a hand gentle on his left shoulder. “...Did you find him?”

“Not exactly.” 

You feel his rage beginning to simmer on your hand, but it sizzles down quickly. You wait for a few minutes as he ravages his stew, and then places the empty bowl down calmly and precisely. 

“We found an arm.” 

“Shit…”

“Aye, shit.”

He turns to you suddenly, his eyes focused. “Don’t tell the ravens. Please.” He scans your expression. “Can I trust you to this?”

You nod.

“..Thank you.” He sighs and slumps down onto the table.

You stand idly, unsure of how to proceed. The silence fills the room like a cursed fog.

“Perhaps we should talk more in the morning? After you’ve rested from your journey?” you perk up, sitting down next to him. Your hand moves to the Viking’s back reassuringly, and he arches to greet it. “For tonight, let me take care of you, ok?”

He stifles a small chuckle and looks at you earnestly. “That sounds great.”

You smile and get up from your seat. He follows, holds your hands, and leans in close. “Thank Freyja I found you…” His eyes meet yours. You put your hand up to his scarred cheek and… after a moment of hesitation, kiss him. He tastes like a paradise gritted by blood and steel, or maybe it’s the venison... A kiss that feels like a surging tide effortlessly enveloping you. His hands move to wrap around your waist and the back of your neck, and as you break the kiss, it moves back to fall on your cheek. 

He lets out a satisfied breath and slowly removes his hands as well, instead moving them to hold yours. “I needed that.” His voice barely a whisper, yet still raspy and impassioned. 

You coyly move away, tracing your fingers over his own as you leave. “Come… get comfy. Let me help you away with the stresses of your life, Wolf-Kissed.” You begin to move towards the other end of the room.

“Are you just telling me to take off my clothes, lover?” he returns, just as coy, but begins to remove his top anyway. His now shirtless figure is darkened against the light of the fire.

“And you? It’s only fair…” His voice and eyes gleam with a newfound playfulness.

“Ah… but my cloak is so heavy…”

He quickly moves to uncloak you, then slower to unclothe. His lightly calloused hands ‘accidentally’ feel your stomach and arms as you two connect in this growing heat. Both of you a little more exposed, you sit on the bearskin by the bed, absorbing each other’s presence. 

“New scar?” A faded but deep red streak across the top of his wrist into the forearm. He smiles and shrugs. You feel it… still a bit fresh. “It looks good on you.” 

He traces it with his other hand in empty thought, while you grab a nearby satchel containing medicinal herbs. He tries his best not to wince as you apply your treatment... he doesn’t wince once. He’s simply watching you in admiration. 

“What’s that look for? Something wrong?” You ask, knowing the answer.

"You are stunning. Like a painting, framed in a lantern-lit gold. In comparison to you, even its fire seems dull and cold...” 

You shove his shoulder playfully and he laughs, but his eyes stay on you to look for your smile, and he finds it, blushing. He looks proud of himself. Bastard. 

You get behind him and slowly begin to unbraid his hair. It’s matted in parts, likely from blood and dirt. You move him to an empty spot in the room and begin to wash his hair with a nearby water basin, trying not to get him too wet...

“Mmph, you treat me too well…” He mumbles.

“Only what you deserve, and well, much more than just this,”

“...Why’d you say that?” his voice is sweet and innocent. You laugh in surprise.

“What? Eivor, you’re the leader of our clan! At least until Sigurd comes back...” You watch as his head swoops down in thought. You place your hand on his shoulder cautiously. “Hey… what’s this about?”

He doesn’t respond, and you continue to work through his hair. Eventually, though, you decide to break the silence. 

“Why exactly… did you want to meet away from Ravensthorpe?” 

You think back to the letter you got, Synin being a talented messenger bird. He never mentioned why you were to meet here, except that he wanted to meet first for a romantic getaway before he was whisked off elsewhere. At first, that was enough, but now...

“I just wanted to see you, is that too much to ask for?” he retorted.

“Eivor…”

“Fine. Why do you think I asked then?”

You pause. “Honestly, I thought you were gonna have a private issue that needed taking care of, one that needs my particular skill set…”

He looks at you with wild eyes and a smile about to be broken into laughter. “Well! I suppose that too!” he laughs. 

“What? No! I mean if you needed someone, you know...” You imitate a neck being sliced. He laughs again. You slap his shoulder.

His laugh slowly trickles out, and he returns to his thousand-yard stare after a moment, but his mouth moves. “I think… I just needed a break from it all. Just for a moment.” He looks back at you. “With you.”

…You resist the urge to defuse the moment and hug him tightly from behind. “Well if you need anything else, I’m all ears.” 

He shakes his head and gives a quick kiss on your cheek. “Let’s save that for tomorrow...” 

He pauses. 

"Because tonight..." He turns to you and puts his arms over your shoulders. His face slowly approaches yours— and you make eye contact, your face clearly anticipating the worst. He nearly laughs but quickly turns to whisper into your ear. "I have other plans..." he smiles, and lightly nibbles on your earlobe, pulling it ever so slightly. This is not what you meant by ‘all ears’. The actual sensation is nice enough, but the sudden waves of euphoria that washes through your headspace is what makes you a little dizzy. 

"H-hey, I'm nearly done with your hair..." You manage to say, barely. He smiles both warm yet seductive, then turns around to let you finish.

As you finish up with his hair, he gives you a sweet look followed by a grateful kiss. It was a... mostly calming activity. As you get up, he childishly hops on the fur bed with a thud. You turn away to tidy up. However, a shuffling sound catches your attention.

He’s striking a pose... one eyebrow raised. He extends forward his hand and winks at you. 

“Come… play with your Drengr, love…” he recites dramatically. 

You stare at him, incredulous, then laugh in protest when he grabs your arm. He yanks you in... you fall, barely lit by the low lantern light, into your love dance.

~

Sleeping next to him is a warmth you always regret not cherishing more. Just his presence makes this cold and dangerous land feel safe. His fingers trace your arm ever so slightly— not enough to wake you, but just enough to send tingles rushing through to your brain. You return the favor and he smiles surprised, but welcome in his half-sleep. 

…Time passes immeasurably through the night, as it always does. So when all you feel is a vacuum of cold air rushing in, you aren't sure what time it is. You try to open your eyes... you see him, barely.

But your eyelids hang heavy, and you fall back asleep.

Note: haha get it “barely” I hope this was ok and the warnings+genre were accurate! I didn’t wanna put earlobe nibbling as a warning so lmao. Also I hate small cottages and I’m never taking photos in them again.

If anyone has any advice/feedback I’d actually really love to hear it! Especially about how to make Eivor’s voice feel more accurate, or if the Reader character has too much personality. No pressure though!

[florenceisfalling]

raise it up

hey this is a gift for @jaeyleo and it is very late!! my dearest apologies!! i may make this a series someday! every title would be from ‘rabbit heart’ lmao

WARNINGS MIGHT SPOIL IT, but warnings for: hypnosis, corrupted! and puppet!egos, semi-kidnapping, and some... well, i guess you’d call it non-consensual magical exchanges?? 

have fun ;)

☽✧    ✦    ✧☾

The theatre is a bit chilly in spite of the presence of hundreds of warm bodies around you, some dressed in suits and ties, others dressed in colorful sweaters and patterned button-ups. It’s as if wearing anything too casual or uninteresting would be considered seriously underdressing compared to the man plastered on nearly every poster around the building.

“Come See Marvin the Magnificent for his famous WORLD TOUR!” they all said, in bold, colorful letters. Beneath the script was the magician himself, arms splayed out dramatically with a charming smile, cape flowing behind him. You remember the days when he was basically unheard of, only doing local shows and YouTube videos, and you remember his climb to fame… well, climb wasn’t the right word. More like skyrocket.

Before, he would have pranced across the stage with a bouncing sort of energy, shouting sing-song remarks into the microphone and over-flourishing with his ring-covered hands. But now, as he walks out on the stage, his flashy outfit and fancy set is outshined by his confident gaze. His steps are slow and steady, his voice even and low, a smile creeping into every word. He radiates self-assurance. Marvin is no longer trying to catch and hold your attention with all his desperate might - he already knows your eyes are on him, he already knows you won't be able to look away. It seems effortless for him.

The crowd cheers and roars, and he giggles a bit before he presses a hand gently to his heart- “Thank you, thank you, everyone.” As soon as he opens his arms and sweeps them wide, the entire theatre hushes like children beneath the low drama of a library’s storyteller.

Eyes scanning over the mass of people, he nods. 

It almost looks like his gaze stops directly on your face.

☽✧    ✦    ✧☾

The show is absolutely brilliant. Stranded particles of dust collect in the air and transform into a vivid illusion of a whale swimming overhead, then scatter into twinkling shooting stars, tumbling down and vanishing right before they land among the audience. With a Cheshire grin on his face, the magician disappears and reappears from stage to seat to the rafters that hold up the lights. Necklaces turn into snakes and rings flutter away like butterflies, only to return back to metal and stone. It is magic and mystery and miracles at their finest - you know for a fact that any critic in the audience has yet been baffled and converted.

But when it seems like there is nothing left for Marvin to display, he calls out a phrase that is equal parts inviting and unnerving. 

“For this next trick, I need a volunteer!”

Immediately, without a hint of hesitation, your hand flies up, your arm waving like a white flag of surrender. You’ve never been the type to like spotlights flashing over you on a stage, you would much rather be behind the scenes, but you can’t seem to put your hand down… nor can anyone else in the room. Stretching out from your seat to the rest is a sea of skin, of nails, of rings, of gloves, all stretching and towards the stage as if you were all subjects of a Baroque painting.

Marvin descends into the audience, slowly stepping down the stage and meandering between the rows of seats. Closing his eyes, he seems almost… relaxed by the hundreds of fingers trying so desperately to touch his face or his mask or his cape. Eventually, though, the clicks of his high-heeled boots stop, and you realize he is in front of your aisle. 

A sense of deep dread washes over you when he points his finger right towards your chest, and you stand to follow him, despite the nervousness and stage fright that you get from even imagining going up there. But the chance is irresistible, isn’t it? Softly, he hooks his arm around yours, and soon the crowd’s voice mixes with disappointment and excitement.

The magician doesn’t say a word to you while you march across the carpet, but it’s not like it would matter. The theatre is far too loud, but the stage… the stage feels strangely, comfortingly quiet. 

Arm shifting, Marvin’s hand slides down to yours, gently squeezing your fingers. All the fear fades from you when his other hand reaches up to brush hair out of your face. As he looks you in the eye, calm washes over you in a melty way, like syrup dripping down your brain. You swear his eyes were bluer, once, in the old photos on social media- but now someone has poured gold flecks inside, his irises nearly all green. While his pupils are stretched similarly to a cat’s, they don’t look like costume contacts; the gold is too shimmery, too deep. A shiver trickles down your spine and he nods, squeezing your hand another time. Swirling colors start to spill into your vision, and the lights become fuzzy and smeared; the change is enough to make you dizzy or knock you over, but Marvin holds you steady. It’s only been a few seconds, but you swear fifteen minutes have passed in this blissful trip. The last words he says to you are quiet, personal, the microphone turned off - a little secret you both share beneath the murmurs of the audience - “Stay very still.”

And you do. 

He turns back to the crowd, and now the voice he speaks with sounds like it’s underwater. Everything is fuzzy, sleepy, but you hear him say something about a split, about a soul. The hundreds of people sitting in rows shout and call, chanting something that sounds faintly like your name - you don’t remember telling anyone your name - and gasping in surprise. You’re unsure of what they find so remarkable until you slowly look down, realizing that you’re a few feet above the ground, now, and your body… your body is laying on the floor, the form you are currently is far more transparent, far more flowing. You look like a ghost, and Marvin draws a little light out of you, pressing it to his eyes. More gold collects in them.

He then snaps his fingers.

And you’ve returned to the floor, head spinning. You are back in your body, and his hand takes yours to lift you to your feet. He turns you to the crowd and you numbly wave, stumbling just a little with a dazed smile plastered to your face. 

Soon, someone else approaches you on the stage, half-tripping on his way. Through the thick fog in your head and eyes, you see his neat black suit and messy, fading green curls tumbling down one side of his face. Marvin is talking again, “thank you”s mimed out of his mouth while the crowd roars and claps, amazed amidst your confusion. They don’t even seem to notice the new man - a staff member, maybe? - on stage, the one in the suit who now gently grabs your shoulder, taking care as he walks you away from the magician. They don’t notice a thing at all...

“Right this way, right this way,” the new man mumbles, nervousness in his tone. As you look closer, still so dizzy you can barely keep your head up, you think you see a bruise starting to fade from one of his tired eyes. Your gaze is so fixed on it that you don’t stop to question why he’s chosen to exit stage left with you.

A moment later, you’re walking behind the curtains, entering a small corridor with dim lights and doors marked Staff Only. You try to absentmindedly count the doors while you stumble past, but the numbers twist and tumble in your head, a rush that just leaves you even more lost than before.

Eventually, the both of you reach a door that was once marked to be a dressing room, though the sign for that has been long since torn off. There’s a heavy padlock hanging from the door to the outer wall on a chain, much more drastic than the small lock built into the doorknob. The man who you lean on lifts a shaking hand to his breast pocket, pulling out a shining key, and unlocks the door with a distinct metallic click. 

Inside, it does not look like a dressing room - at least, not entirely. While one half of it does feature hanging clothing and a vanity, as well as some jumbled props, the other side is instead filled with thrifted couches and chairs, all gathered awkwardly around a bed that looks strangely… medical?

“Uh, sit, sit, please, right there, thank you…” 

The stranger ushers you forward to the couch, and you’re too hazy to even think of hesitating. Held up comfortably by the cushions, you feel like you’re going to fall right asleep, your consciousness melting right into the fabric below. But the man shifts, and you keep your eyes open to watch.

Keeping his head down and avoiding your sleepy stare as he walks around the furniture and behind you, he opens a cabinet that you did not initially notice and pulls out a crystal glass. Next to the cabinet is a small door, and the man slips behind it, reappearing with the glass now full of cool water. 

Slowly, the careful clicks of his dress shoes against the floor draw closer, and you squint, trying to get a better look at him from here. 

The bruise on his face isn’t the only thing marring his skin, you notice; more bruises peek from behind the sleeves of his suit, and a deep, gnarled scar cuts across his throat. On both sides of the scar lay deep red lines, like someone had fastened a collar far too tightly around his neck. A frown forming on his face is enough to interrupt your thoughts; he adjusts his shirt and tie to better cover what you’ve seen, before sitting beside you.

“Here,” he mutters, and pries your nearly-numb fingers open to place the cold glass in your grip. “Drink some, i-it’s supposed to help…”

You do as he says, and the worry in his face seems to lighten. 

“Thank… thank you. You did, um, real well, in the show. I’m sorry about what he did, though…” Even through the foggy mess that your mind currently is, a hint of fear peeks through at the man’s words. “I s-suppose I should introduce myself, I’m… Anti. And you are…?”

No matter the effort you expend, you can’t get coherent words off the tip of your tongue, not even enough to say your name. Anti sighs, understanding the feeling. 

“That’s alright. It’ll come back in a while, though you’ll never get everything back, y’know? Too late for that.”

With every word he says, more concern starts to build in your mind- what exactly have you gotten yourself into?

You’re dragged out from those thoughts when you realize that you still hear Marvin’s voice echoing from the stage, though you cannot identify any distinct words. Just a tone that wants to lull you to sleep, wants to numb the crowd into oblivion. You feel so tired, oh, why must your eyelids hang so heavy?

But Anti is still talking, too, quietly and nervous when he sees the look of fear that has grown on your face. “It- it’s alright, really! It shouldn’t… shouldn’t be any serious damage, even if it sounds scary- he only took a small part of your soul. Marv, he’s gotta feed that magic somehow, r-right?”

On shaky legs, you try to stand. You have to get out of here, don’t you? If only Anti didn’t gently push you back down by your shoulders, hushing you with a slightly panicked face, if only you didn’t feel like a gust of wind would be enough to knock you over. 

“No, no, he’ll be here after the show, okay? And… and then you should be able to go home, h-he just needs to check up on you, that’s all, promise… please get some rest, pretty please, for me?” Anti stares at you while he talks, a sickly sweet voice creeping into his words, and it’s almost like his eyes are trying to reach into your mind. Despite this, his gaze takes no effect on you. 

There’s barely any magic left inside him, after all.

☽✧    ✦    ✧☾

You do fall asleep, eventually. While Anti’s weak attempts at hypnosis did nothing, Marvin’s work is still heavy in your mind, and you’re plunged into a warm, sickeningly sweet darkness.

The dream you find yourself in is not much comfort, but you pray it lasts a while. You don’t know what will happen to you when you wake up.

☽✧    ✦    ✧☾

welcome, dear reader, to my interpretation of the corrupted!marvin au ~

that’s all, folks! go follow @jaeyleo / @cest-mellow if you have not already, she is an absolute sweetheart who inspires me so so much

sidenote: any religious imagery u spot in this is very intentional

[americancowgirl19]

Her Soldier

Summary: Sam gets drafted for the Vietnam war a couple days after he turns 18. Right before he leaves, he meets you.

Warnings: Angst, death, fluff, small age gap (like 2/3 years), 

Reader: Female Reader

Pairings: Vietnam Soldier Sam Winchester x Female Reader

Word Count: 4,565

A/n: Based off the song ‘Travelin’ Soldier’ by Dixie Chicks.. I swear I almost cry every time I hear this song so hopefully I can make others cry

Masterlist

The café you worked at was dead. The only customer in the whole place is the old man at the bar sipping on his coffee rereading the newspaper for the hundredth time. You didn’t mind the old man lingering around. He’s sweet and just wants to be around people instead of his empty house. So, when he asks for a refill for the dozenth time you give it to him with a small smile and begin a short conversation with him.

When he returns to looking at his newspaper you begin wiping tables down. Nobody’s sat at them since the last time you wiped them down but it gave you something to do. 

As you reached the last table, the doorbell rang signaling someone coming in. You turned around to great them but the words die in your throat. The customer that had entered is a tall broad man dressed in an army uniform. He shed his hat and sets his bag down.

His eyes scan the place before falling on you. You’re taken back by the color in his eyes. They’re captivating along with the smile that spreads across his lips.

“Can I uh... Just sit anywhere?” He asks, fiddling with his cap in his hands. His question snaps you out of your daze.

“Oh, yeah, of course,” You nod quickly, a light blush coming to your cheeks. “Wherever you like,” You tell him. He nods to you before taking his bag and choosing a booth by the window. 

You take a deep breath, thankful his back is to you. You take a moment to calm yourself knowing it’s useless. The moment you regain his attention you’ll be a stuttering mess. 

You work in an old rundown café, not many attractive men come in. When they do come strolling in another waitress always snatches them before you do. Although, you don’t put up a fight seeing that you’re anxiety usually keeps you from actively approaching them. However, today you’re the only waitress.

“What, uh.. What can I get you?” You ask, thankful you didn’t stutter too much. He flashes you a smile, although you notice a been of nervousness in his posture. He shifts in his seats and gives you his order.

You bring him is water and leave him be. You wait by the bar for his food to finish cooking. You try not to stare but your gaze keeps falling on him. You watch his leg bounce under the table and how he shifts every few seconds. His head turns from looking outside to down at the table.

You felt bad for him. You knew what was going on in the world and you knew that where he was going is dangerous. You older brother had been drafted to the army. Plus, at night, you heard your parents talking to each other about all the bad stuff going on over seas.

“Order up!” The cook snaps, breaking you from your thoughts. You grab the plate and carry it to the handsome man.

“Here ya go,” You say, feeling even worse when he jumps. You give him a small smile setting the plate in front of him. “Enjoy,”

“Hey,” He says, quickly when you turn to walk away. You look at him, smiling a bit when he struggles to find his words. “Do you mind sitting with me?” He asks, shyly. “I could use someone to talk to,” He tells you, pressing his lips together. Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t say no to him.

“I’m off in an hour,” You tell him. “If you have time, I know a place where we can go,”

“Perfect,” He nods, quickly.

The next hour dragged on. You refilled the old man’s coffee, you wiped the tables down, and you exchanged a couple of words with the guy in the booth. When you finally clocked out, you slipped your jacket on and walked outside with the handsome stranger.

“I’m Y/n, by the way,” You introduce yourself as you lead him down the sidewalk.

“Sam,” He introduces himself, holding his hand out. You shake it, enjoying the warmth of his skin. “So, where are you taking me?”

“The pier,” You tell him. “It’s where I like to go when I need to get my head straight or if I’m feeling a little low,” You explain.

When you get to the end of the pier, you both snag your favorite bench. He sets his bag beside him and looks out into the water.

“I turned 18 a couple days ago,” He mutters, looking down at his fidgeting fingers. “Day later and I get a draft notice,”

“My brother got drafted too,” You whisper. He glances at you, a small smile on his face.

“So, did mine,” Sam says. “He got drafted about 7 months ago... We knew I would be next but when it came it just... it felt surreal,” Sam looks back at the water. “I feel like I’m living a nightmare and I won’t ever wake up,” He whispers. 

You bite your lip when you hear the shakiness in his voice. Unable to help yourself, you reach over and grab his hand. He clings to it tightly. You shuffle closer to him and lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry you have to go, Sam,” You whisper.

“Maybe I’ll see my brother,” He hopes optimistically. “We’re all each other has. My mom died when I was a baby and my dad was never around... It’s always just been me and him,”

“Well, when you come back, find me,” Sam turns his head to you. You lift your head off his shoulder. “I’m not going anywhere, I’ll still be working at that café, I’ll be real easy to find,”

“If I come back,” Sam whispers.

“When,” You correct him. “When you and your brother come back, come to the café,” You order him. “I’ll make sure you both have a free meal,” Sam smiles, relaxing on the bench.

“When I come back,” Sam whispers, releasing a slow sigh. “As soon as I got that notice... I never thought of the possibility of coming back,”

“Well, now you have to,” You tell him. “Because if you don’t, you’re gonna make me real upset,” Sam smiles, laughing a bit. “We’re friends now, Sam. You’re stuck with me and that’s just how it’s going to be,”

“Is that so?” He asks, looking at you with a half grin.

“Exactly so,” You nod. The two of you didn’t say anything for a while. Eventually, you got tired of the silence and filled it with stories about your life. You told him about the school you went too only to find out that he had gone to your rival school. You talked about your parents and how they supported everything you and your brother did even when it was something beyond stupid. 

You learned that the two of you were nerds but different kinds. He loves to read and had wanted to go to college to become a lawyer while you were passionate about music and were currently in your high schools marching band. You told him how you weren’t sure if you wanted to become a professional musician or a teacher, perhaps you would try to become both.

The conversation flowed easily between the two of you. When you ran out of things to say he talked. He told you about all the trouble he and his brother, Dean, used to get into together. His stories mad you laugh and cry.

The both of you sat on the pier for what seemed like hours. You had sat down together as strangers yet at this point you couldn’t imagine not being his friend. You hated that he had to go into the army because now you couldn’t spend more time with him.

Sitting next to him, hearing him laugh and talk, you knew if he were to stick around you would fall hopelessly in love with him. He’s beyond attractive but on top of that he’s sassy and so very smart and kind. You loved listening to him and you couldn’t help but wish you could take all his pain away. You wished you could take his fear away and protect him from the world but you just couldn’t. You felt useless but at least you were able to get him to relax before the army bus comes to pick up the recruits.

As the day passed on you noticed more army men coming to the area. You both knew that it meant the bus would be arriving soon. You both knew Sam would have to leave and you didn’t want him too.

“I should go wait with the others,” Sam mutters, looking at the group of soldiers gathering together. You frown but release his hand. He stands and slings his bag over his shoulder. He bites his lip obviously wanting to say something but looks hesitant.

“What is it, Sam?” You ask. You’re barely able to finish your question before he’s spitting out whatever he wants to say. 

“Look, I know you probably have a boyfriend, but I don’t care,” Sam shakes his head, turning toward you. “I’ve got no one to send letters to, would you mind if I sent some back here to you?”

“I was hoping you would,” You smile at him. You push yourself off of the bench and pull him into a tight hug. “I expect letters as often as you can,” Sam smiles, tightening his arms around you.

“I’m gonna need your address,” He mutters. You grin pulling away from him. Your eyes glance behind him and you instantly smile.

“I’ve got an idea, come on,” You grab his hand and yank him down the pier. He laughs, following you willingly.

“Really?” Sam asks, noticing where you’re pulling him.

“Oh, come on!” You beg him. “It’ll be fun,” You turn to him and wink. He rolls his eyes but nods. You pull him into the photo booth. He sits on the seat and steers you onto his lap when you go to sit down. He grins as you blush. “Smile,” You whisper, turning to the camera.

There’s a flash as the picture is taken. Only problem is that in the corner of your eye you notice Sam still looking at you. You turn your head to him, your arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“You’re supposed to look at the camera,” You whisper.

“I’d rather look at you,” He whispers back. You nibble at your lip, a blush painting your cheeks as another flash brightens the booth. “You’re beautiful,” He mutters.

“You just had to walk into my café when you’re about to leave didn’t you?” You pout. His hand comes up to caress your cheek just as the flash comes again.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never been good at timing,” Sam whispers.

“I don’t have one,” You whisper to him. He frowns his eyebrows and tilts his head. Gathering up your courage, you press your forehead against his. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” Sam smiles a bit.

“I’m gonna have to take you out when I get back,” He whispers. You smile at his word choice. You close your eyes, resting your other hand on his chest as the final flash comes.

“Come back, Sam,” You whisper, your eyes opening to look into his. Sam closes his eyes, clenching his jaw. “Please come back, Sam,” You whisper to him.

“I’ll try,” He whispers back. You want to demand that he promises to return but you don’t. Your head moves to his shoulder as you hug him tightly. When the two of you finally slide out of the booth, you pick up the photos. You reach into your pocket and pull our a pen.

“My address,” You said writing it on a couple of them. You slip the first picture into your pocket and let him keep the other three.

“I have to go,” He whispers, seeing the bus coming to pick up the soldiers. You sigh slowly and pull him into another hug. “Thank you,” He murmurs. “For staying with me,”

“It was my pleasure,” You smile up at him. The two of you pull away. You stay still, watching him walk away. He only gets about five steps away before he stop and turns back to you. You smile widely when he come strutting back. He extends his arm and cups your cheek.

“Can I...?” He whispers and you just nod. He grins, lowering his head to yours. You lean into him as your lips press against each other lightly. 

“I really wish you would have found me sooner,” You whisper. He smiles hugging you tighter than before.

“I’ll come back and I’ll take you on a date and we’ll do this the proper way,” He promises, pulling from you.

“I don’t care how we do this as long as you come back to figure it out with me,” You tell him. He clicks his heels together and gives you a salute.

“Yes, ma’am,” He winks at you. You blush smiling at him. “I’ll be back before you know it,” He promises before forcing himself to go to the back to the bus. You force yourself to smile and wave as the bus drives away with him and a dozen other soldiers on it.

His first letter came about a week later. He talked about his training and the other guys he’s bunking with. He talks about what they plan to do with his group in the future. Then he asks about you and your day. Your favorite part is when he mentions about how much he wants to come back home and go back to that pier with you.

The instant your done reading the letter, you pull out paper to write one to him. You talk about mundane things. Things that will hopefully distract him from the world he was forced into, even if it’s just for the few minutes he reads the letter.

Towards the end of your letter you tell him that you miss him. You talk about the possible dates the two of you could go on. You tell him that you look forward to him coming home.

For the next few months, the letters between you two are frequent. You learn more about each other. Every day you find yourself racing for the mailbox hoping that he had sent a letter.

“Who have you been sending letters too?” Your mom asks you one afternoon. You were going to lie and say your brother but she would know it would be a lie. While you and your brother are close you don’t get as excited for his letters as you do Sam’s. 

“I met someone a couple of months ago,” You tell her. She arches an eyebrow. “He came by work before getting on the army bus.. I talked to him for a while before he had to leave. He asked me if he could send letters, he doesn’t have anyone else to talk to,”

“Oh?” She says. “And how is this man?”

“His names Sam,” A wide, effortless smile comes across your lips. “He was drafted a couple days after he turned 18,”

“He’s 18?” She asks. You slowly nod. “You’re only 16,” She states.

“So?”

“So, isn’t he a little old for you?”

“It’s only two years mom,”

“Yeah and you’re barely a junior in high school and he’s going off to a very ugly war,”

“I don’t think any war is pretty,”

“Y/n,” Your mother states. 

“He has no one else, mom,” You tell her. “I’m just talking to him, giving him someone to come home too -”

“Someone to come home to? Are you two dating or something?”

“No, not yet at least...” You mutter. She sighs, rubbing her face.

“You barely know him,” She tells you.

“We’re learning about each other, what’s the big deal?” You ask. “Nothing bad is going to happen,”

“He’s going to war, Y/n... He might not come back,”

“He will,” You snap. “And when he does, I’m going to be there for him.”

“You’re only 16, Y/n... You’re too young to be waiting for a soldier to come home, you’re too young to be worrying about stuff like that,” She tells you.

“It doesn’t matter if I’m too young, I’m waiting for him and I’m going to worry about him no matter what you say or what you think. Sam, needs someone and I’m gonna be that person,” You state before going up to your room.

While that’s the first argument over Sam, it’s not the last. Neither of your parents liked the fact that you were mailing and receiving letters. You were too young. You didn’t understand the world. You need to focus on your future. You heard all that and more. 

Word spread and your entire family soon knew about Sam. None of them were on your side but you didn’t care. You still looked forward to hearing him from him and you didn’t let anyone stop you from replying.

The closer time got to him being shipped over seas, the darker the letters became. Sam was scared. He’s terrified and it showed in his letters. He spoke on and on about the fears of war. He talks about how he would pray to be sent back home, back to you instead.

He tells you about how he lays in bed, staring at the photos of you two, and imagine life back home with you. He imagines holding you, kissing you, and falling in love with you.

You reread the letter a hundred times, a shit eating grin on your face. He was practically confessing to you about falling in love and you couldn’t help but to reciprocate the feelings.

When you went to reply to him, you couldn’t find the right words. You wanted to give him something to look forward to. You wanted to give him a little ray of sunlight in the darkness surrounding him.

When you finally started to write, you couldn’t stop. You made sure that he would have no doubt that you felt the same way, if not more, for him. You promised him that you would be waiting for him to come home to you and that when he did, you’d be all his.

You knew your parents thought you were crazy for falling in love with someone you only met once and talked to through letters. Did you care? No. You fell for Sam, you fell hard. 

You found yourself laying in your bed at night, staring at the one picture you have of him. The picture of you staring at the came, a wide smile on your face, while he’s staring at you, a gentle grin on his. You didn’t want to read too into things but you wondered if you believed in love at first sight. Every time you thought about it, you’d smile a little wider.

Eventually another letter from Sam came. It was the last letter he wrote before being shipped over seas. By the time it reaching your house, you knew he was no longer in the U.S. He told you not to worry, he told you he might not be able to write for a while. He told you he loved you and he’d do anything to come back.

You wrote back to him, begging him to be safe. You promised you’d still wait for him. You told him that you’d be here to welcome him back to America. You told him you loved him.

Even though you looked for his letters every day, they came sporadically. He stayed true to his word and wrote whenever he could, it just wasn’t often. He didn’t go into details about the war but you knew it was horrible. Even after being over there for almost a year, he was still scared and wanted to come home. You didn’t blame him, you wanted him home too.

He wrote about how his platoon came across another one. You smile as you read about the fact that he and his brother were reunited. You couldn’t help but feel relief as you read his own words of relief over the fact that his brother’s still alive.

Towards the end he talks about how when it gets rough, he thinks back to the day the two of you sat at the pier. He explains how he closes his eyes and imagines your smile. He yearns for another kiss, another hug. He wishes he could just be with you.

You reply to him and assure him that his wishes are the same as yours. You wish for him to come home safe. You promise that even though it’s been over a year since you last saw him, you still love him and that you’re still waiting for him. You promise to wait forever as long as he returns to you. 

You tell him about how that day at the pier has become your favorite. You promise to recreate that day with him when he returns only you make sure he knows that you won’t let him leave next time.

After you sent the letter, you wait for his reply. A few weeks pass then a month with no word from him. You try not to worry because it’s not the longest he’s gone without sending word. You know how hard it is for him over there. Even though he hasn’t sent you a letter, you continue to send some to him. You pray every night that when you wake up there will be a letter from him.

“Hey, Y/n, are you alright?” Your best friend asks. “You seem a little distracted?”

You were. You were completely distracted. It’s Friday night, you’re in your marching band uniform at the football game. You love football games and you’re usually the most pumped in the bad. Only tonight you’re quiet. It’s been three months since you last hard from Sam.

“I’m fine,” You promise her. “I just haven’t been getting sleep lately,” 

Your friend accepts your answer and doesn’t force you to explain or talk. You’re thankful. You stand with the others and slip out the picture of Sam. You keep the picture close to your chest. You completely ignore yourself and just focus on Sam. Oh, what you wouldn’t give to see that smile in real life. What you wouldn’t give to simply hold his hand, to hear his laugh and be beside him.

When it got closer to kick off, a prayer was said before the band was instructed to play the national anthem. When the last note was ended, a man came over the speakers again. Everyone in the sands practically froze.

“Folks, would you bow your heads,” The man spoke to the crowd. “For a list of local Vietnam dead,”

This isn’t the first time the schools done this. It’s their way to honor the lives lost. Every time they do it, you feel like you’re going to be sick. Your heart races in your chest. You feel like you’re going to pass out as he goes down the list.

“... Benny Lafitte... Sam Winchester... Adam Milligan...” He continues to read off the list but you don’t listen. All the sound around you just dies.

Sam Winchester

Sam Winchester

Sam Winchester

Sam Winchester

Before you know it, your pushing through the crowd and hiding under the bleachers. Nobody gives pays any attention to you. You’re ignored but you couldn’t care less.

You collapse to your knees and wrap your arms around yourself. You’re trying so hard to be quiet but a sob escapes your lips. You want to scream, you want to punch at the ground, you want to just lose yourself in your grief.

All you can think about is his dorky smile as he gives you a salute before walking on the bus. All you can think about is how you should have begged him to stay with you.

“I’ll be back before you know it,”

 His words repeat in your head which only causes you to cry even harder. You rock slowly on the grass. You want to disappear, you want to home and cry yourself to sleep.

Slowly, you pull the picture that’s clutched to your chest back. You sniffle, your eyes glued on Sam. You bring the picture to your lips and kiss him softly. You leave the picture against your lips, your eyes shut tightly as tears continue to seep through them.

“Sammy...” You whimper. “Oh, my Sammy,” You cry, curling into yourself again. “I love you so much,”

Bonas

You’re working at the café. You refilling the old mans coffee and preparing to wipe down tables. You force a smile at the old man before walking away from him. The doorbell rings when you grab a rag.

“Go ahead and sit -” Your words die in your throat when you see who’s standing at the door. You’ve never met this man but you know exactly who it is.

“Uh, hi,” He says, slowly walking up to you. “I’m Dean,”

“I know,” You whisper, offering a small smile. You hated it but seeing him brought tears to your eyes. It’s been six months since Sam was read off the fallen soldiers list. You were still struggling with the fact that he’s no longer coming home.

“Sammy talked about you all the time, couldn’t get him to shut up,” Dean laughs a bit. You bite your lip knowing this was hard for him. “You meant a lot to him,”

“He meant a lot to me,” You whisper, a tear falling down your cheek.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t bring him home to you,” Dean chokes up. “God he wanted to come home to you,” Your feet move before you realize that you’re walking up to him. The two of you instantly bring the other into a tight hug. When you pull away, he reaches into his pocket and gives you a warn and torn letter. “He asked me to give this to you,” You’re breath hitches when you see red smears on the paper.

“Th-thank you,” You whimper.

“Yeah...” He mutters before backing away. His movement snaps you out of your daze.

“Hey, Dean?” He hums, wiping his eyes. “Don’t be a stranger,” You smile at him. “I know you don’t know me but you’re family... If you ever need anything, I’ll be around,” Dean smiles and slowly nods.

“I’ll see you,” He whispers before walking out of the café.

The instant he’s gone, you walk straight to the bathroom. You cry, barely holding in the sobs. A few minutes later, you pull yourself together long enough to look at the letter.

You can barely read the shaky hand writing but his words bring fresh tears to his eyes. You could tell that he had written this the day before he died. He talked about how scared he was, how he didn’t know if he’d be able to come home. He promised he would do everything in his power to be with you but in case he couldn’t he wanted you to know just how much he loved you. He promised that if tomorrow is to be his last day then his final thoughts will be of the two of you sitting at the pier. 

[olivinesea]

In the Golden Dark, pt. 4

pt 1, pt 2, pt 3

a/n: Everyone better have their toothbrush ready bc this is about to rot your teeth right out your head. This concludes my brief flirtation with happiness, I hope it’s everything you wanted. Back to regular programming after this. ~2.4k

Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light; I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night. - Sarah Williams

Dysania, Hotch thought to himself, dysania is what Spencer said it’s called. Before he’d started spending so much time talking with Spencer he’d never known there were official terms for so many of the things he took for granted, things he thought were just a part of life. This one for example, “dysania”: the state of finding it difficult to get out of bed in the morning. Surely everyone found this hard to do he had countered. Not really, I guess, Spencer had shrugged. Not everyone. They had both grown quiet, considering the spaces between the words, the information unintentionally shared. These types of moments happened often and Hotch wasn’t all too sure how he felt about them. It was uncomfortable to share about himself, but it seemed to happen so easily with Spencer. Like some piece of him was reaching out, pushing past his normal guard to grasp at the other man, to try to pull him close with details he’d never intended to share with anyone.

Spencer responded kindly, often matching with his own stories, his own fears. It felt so natural, the exchange of ideas and the flow back and forth between mind and heart. Spencer, who so often found it tricky to connect the cues some people were born understanding, had no trouble understanding Aaron’s small hesitations, his silences following the realization that he’d just said something out loud that would normally remain internal. Spencer was guarded too, in different ways and for different reasons, but the walls were there nevertheless. He’d had trouble all his life understanding what people expected from him so he’d learned to minimize, to live inside his own head. He’d grown in his time at the BAU, found friendship and family where he hadn’t realized he was lacking. But there were always some things he held back.

People loved to be dazzled by his intellect, by the way he could remember the most inconsequential detail in a text or connect an obscure reference to its source. He didn’t mind, he enjoyed that part of himself as well. But sometimes it felt hollow, just a party trick he was brought out to perform and then put away until wanted again. The other things, the personal things, he had never learned how to share those and had always figured no one was that interested anyway. Somewhere along the way it became a compulsion to hide certain details, convinced that if everyone knew they would reject him. His mother and her illness, his own doubts about his stability, his need for help at times; he pulled those secrets in close, wrapping his fingers around them and squeezing until they stopped squirming so much. It wasn’t until he listened to Aaron haltingly give context to an offhanded comment that he dared to pull out some of his own worries. So they clumsily exchanged confidences, slowly building a new structure with each brick they pulled out of their walls.

Knowing the term didn’t help with the issue though. Didn’t change the fact that without the pressing responsibility of a weekday, where people expected him to be certain places at certain times, Hotch was finding himself unable to get out of bed. He stared at the clock, narrowing his eyes, disbelieving what the numbers were telling him. How could it be that someone who slept so little could spend so much time laying down?

He rolled away from the cursed illumination and glared at the wall instead. He could see Rossi’s confrontation played out on the blank white surface. As if he had been outside his own body, he watched his reactions, studying the degree of sincerity. Was he really making logical decisions or was he only wishful? He needed to talk to Spencer, needed to come up with a plan before this got out on its own. He had considered that option too—not doing anything and letting everyone else deal with their own feelings. He was tempted but he knew in the long run that would not work out well. He was still the leader of his team, despite whatever feelings he was finding himself caught up in. If he acted soon, he could still control this.

His thoughts returned to scolding him about how he should get up, take care of some errands he had been putting off. At least do some laundry after being gone all week. He closed his eyes imagining the laundry, the clean warm fabric pressed against his face. One of the few reliable pleasures in life. He rolled onto his back and stretched his long limbs away from himself. He could do that at least.

There was a brief moment of anxiety as he willed his muscles to contract, to pull him upright, unsure if they would cooperate this time. Thankfully they did and he shuffled around the room, collecting errant socks and emptying his go-bag that he had left on a chair the night before. He had managed to get the laundry started and was fumbling with the coffee maker when he heard a knock at his door. He spilled the grounds as his head snapped up to glare at the sound. He swore and did his best to sweep what he could salvage into the filter, placing it correctly and flipping the switch before going to investigate the intrusion.

He found Spencer standing outside his door looking a little guilty. They eyed each other, Hotch in sweats and t-shirt, hair standing up at odd angles, Spencer dressed for a day out in cool late winter sun, his favorite purple scarf wrapped around his neck for luck. Spencer’s eyes darted around the room behind Hotch. It was dark, the only light coming in from one small window. The rest of the curtains were drawn and he hadn’t bothered to turn on any lights, not needing them to take care of basic tasks.

“Sorry, I tried to call,” Spencer wrung his hands as he made an effort to stop staring at the gloom in front of him.

Hotch thought about his phone, how he had purposely turned it off, something he rarely did. He had been so tired last night, he’d needed to ensure a few hours without someone requiring his attention. He’d felt a thrill of rebellion as he’d tossed it aside but he must be really out of it to not have checked it yet today. After a moment of awkwardness while they both contemplated how they ended up here, Hotch invited Spencer in for coffee.

“It should be ready in minute,” he said while waving him inside.

Spencer walked toward the kitchen where he remained standing, hesitant. There had been a wild impulse that drove him here, even when Hotch didn’t answer his phone. He’d been repeating conversations with himself, things he needed to say, imagining all the different responses he might get. His mind had been so full of these scenarios as he made his way from his apartment, but now that he was here he wondered if maybe this hadn’t been better left alone. Who was he to demand things?

“You can put your stuff down,” Aaron said with a slight smile.

“What?” He looked at his bag that he was clutching tightly, his knuckles turning white. Thoughts unmistakable as they ran across his face, he glanced around, trying to decide where to put it. Trying to get his bearings in this unfamiliar environment.

“Here,” Aaron held out his hand, offering to to take it. Spencer shrugged it off and handed it over to Aaron who set it on the dining table. Meanwhile Spencer sat on the edge of one of the bar stools and unwound his scarf, hands too nervous to stay still, and set it on the stool next to him. Aaron returned to the kitchen and pulled out a pair of mugs. He didn’t bother to ask how Spencer liked his coffee, everyone already knew that deviancy. Instead he just handed him the box of sugar, a spoon and a full mug. Spencer kicked his heels against the rungs of the stool.

“Thanks,” he said, smiling into the warm curls of steam. Hotch hummed, leaning back against the counter, his own mug wrapped tightly in his fingers. He was awake but he wasn’t fully registering what was happening. He hoped the coffee would alleviate that feeling.

“Sorry to just show up, I was going for a walk and…” Spencer trailed off, hearing the excuse he had prepared out loud, he found it sounded false. He rubbed his thumb against the warm mug. He inhaled deeply, then said, “I wanted to see you.”

He looked up to check Aaron’s reaction. Frustratingly he didn’t appear to react at all, looking back steadily, absorbing the information. Then he nodded, as if he was answering a question, maybe a response to something in his own mind.

“It’s ok, I wanted to see you as well. We need to talk.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide at that but Aaron waved his hand and tried not to laugh outright at the horrified expression. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”

Spencer relaxed a little, enough to sip his coffee again. Hotch could tell he wasn’t completely convinced. He rubbed his head, worsening the disarray there and sighed. He needed to level the playing field somehow. Spencer made a risky move coming here unannounced. The power imbalance of the situation, already uneven for so many other reasons, was not going to help them get through this conversation. They needed neutral ground, somewhere they were both comfortable, or at least distracted enough, to talk about their feelings without becoming so anxious they never really said anything.

“Let me take a shower and then we can get out of here.”

“Oh, ok, we don’t have to, I just…”

“Spencer, I’m sure you didn’t want to spend the day in my apartment,” he said firmly. He let his eyes scan around the room, seeing it from another’s perspective. It was barely lived in; even when he was physically present he wasn’t living there. There were no personal touches, no paint on the wall, no photos. It was only the shell of a home. He had done all his living in the home he’d shared with Haley and Jack. There had been no reason to try to build any of that again on his own. “We could go to the Science Museum?”

“Oh, I love that place,” Spencer sounded both excited and relieved.

Hotch gulped the rest of his coffee, ignoring the burn on the roof of his mouth. “Give me fifteen minutes.”

Spencer stayed put for several minutes after he left the room. Frozen in his seat, afraid to touch anything else, certain someone as deliberate as Aaron would notice anything out of place. But he had been welcomed in, a voice in his mind argued. It was the same voice that had pushed him along all the way to this point. The same voice that insisted what was happening was real and wasn’t going to let him worry it away.

He forced himself to stand up, carrying his coffee cup through the room, drawn like a magnet to the bookshelves. It was a little dark but up close he could read the titles. They had talked about books plenty during their late night conversations, he knew Aaron was a big reader. But there was something different about seeing the tangible evidence of that, the wrinkled bindings, the books stacked horizontally where he had run out of space on the shelf so he’d had to fit them where he could. There was an organization to the shelves, though it wasn’t immediately apparent. Perhaps the only thing in the apartment that felt alive, it was obvious that someone was regularly pulling books off and replacing others. He ran his index finger along the spine of one, thinking about the discussion they'd had about it. He was about to pull it off the shelf when there was a voice just behind him.

“Find anything good?”

He twitched, pulling his hand back, thankful that he’d finished his coffee so the movement didn’t cause any spills. He turned to look at Aaron, dressed casually in jeans and a sweater, hair still a little damp. They smiled at each other.

“Do you want any more? I probably have some to-go cups.”

Spencer shook his head and passed the empty mug to Hotch’s outstretched hand.

“Ok, I’ll be ready in a minute.”

He left to take the mug to the kitchen and grab his keys. Spencer’s scarf was still on the stool so he grabbed it and headed to the front door. There Spencer was standing holding his bag, not looking quite as nervous as before.

“You forgot this.” Without warning, he stepped in close to loop it carefully behind Spencer’s neck. He could feel Spencer staring at him but he avoided his gaze, operating on instinct. He didn’t let go of the tail ends of the scarf, playing with the fringe between his fingers. Neither man moved, their bodies dangerously close. He risked a look into Spencer’s face and found him watching intently. Aaron started to inhale, to say something to break the tension, when Spencer leaned forward and pressed his mouth against his lips. It was surprisingly soft, traces of mint and coffee mingling pleasantly. Aaron couldn’t help the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth.

Spencer rocked back, looking for approval in the other man’s face, tentative but also absolutely certain that he’d done the right thing. He barely had a second to confirm the happiness on Aaron’s face before he was pulled forward by the ends of his scarf, this time to be met with a deeper kiss. A kiss that left no room for questions about where they stood. Spencer wrapped his arms around the other man’s neck, breaking away from the kiss and burying his face in the hollow of his shoulder. He felt overwhelmed as his blood pulsed loudly through his veins. Eyes closed tightly against the warm skin, he did his best just to breathe.

Aaron rubbed his back lightly, understanding, waiting for Spencer’s senses to calm. After a minute, Spencer pulled away a little, just enough to see Aaron’s face. A large hand cupped his face, thumb running softly along the cheekbone. He closed his eyes, focusing everything on that touch. He’d thought about this moment a lot, anticipating the multitude of different outcomes. Now that it was real he needed to remember every detail exactly as it was. He covered Aaron’s hand with his own, looking into his dark eyes again.

“Let’s go.”

[tamakissimp]

headcanon - being their old classmates child

request: @rayanicaraynbow​ Hey! I was wondering if you could do headcannons for Aizawa, Midnight, and Present Mic reacting to finding out that one of their students are the child of an old friend of theirs? So like, y/n's parent(s) were close friends with those 3 when they were younger, and the reaction they'd get by them finding this out like half way through the year or something. I'm not good at wording things lol, and if not that's fine. I love your blog, btw! <3

a/n: thank you so much! I love this idea so much! I hope you like it!

AIZAWA:

Most of the time, Aizawa was either too sleepy or too grumpy to notice the resemblance between you and his childhood friends.

He didn't think twice about how your quirk seemed to be a mix between that of his friends.

You didn't know that he was the 'Shota-kun’ that your parents often talked about.

Since you were a pretty average student, Aizawa never felt the need to have a parent-teacher conversation.

After he found out that you were indeed the child of his old friends, he tried his best to not play favourites.

But he couldn't help himself when he kept on noticing how much your mannerism was like those of your parents.

Sometimes you would get a little less homework or he would go a bit easier on you during training.

You tried to appear calm while you and your parents wait outside of Aizawa's classroom. They are both gushing about how much the UA has changed since their years here. From the paint on the walls to the pictures they hung op on them, so much has seemed to change

Suddenly, the classroom door swings open. A dishevelled Aizawa stands before you. He looks between you and your parents a couple of times. "Shota-kun?" your dad says before pulling the teacher in for a hug.

You and Aizawa share a confused look while your mom joins in for a group hug. What is going on? Your mom finally brings you out of your confusion. "Oh, Shota, if we would have known you became a teacher, we would have stopped by sooner!". Was your teacher the Shota-Kun that you had heard so many stories about?

Aizawa stumbles over his words for a bit. God, it must have been years since he last saw his friends. Now it all makes sense. Why you seemed so familiar, why he already knew everything about your quirk. He looks over your parents and you again. You were a perfect mix of them.

"I didn't know that Y/n was your child," he says. His voice is quiet, even more than normal. Your dad nods as he mentions with his hand for you to come closer. Once you're within arms reach, he swings his arm over your childer.

It was weird for him to see you all. Most of his friends turned into hero's, who now didn't have the time to worry about starting a family. But obliviously two of his friends succeded in it.

"Why don't you swing by for tea after this? To catch up," your mom suggests. Aizawa nods before leading you and your parents into his classroom. While his body is still tired, as usual, his mind was buzzing with excitement. Maybe he should have called your parents in sooner.

PRESENT MIC:

You blended into the background too much for him to really notice you.

Sure, he knew all of his students. But since he was busier with hyping up his class than with really paying attention to every single student, you just got lost in the crowd.

It isn't until one particular training session that he really noticed how similar your quirk is to that of his childhood friends.

He confronts you about it afterwards. Asking about your parents and whatnot.

Once you drop their name, he immediately asks for a picture of them. He practically begs you to invite him to dinner that night.

He walks you to your house after classes are over. A huge smile is plastered on his face as he sees your parents again.

He spends the entire night over, talking end-on-end about the past and your lives now. Since your parents were highschool-sweethearts back in the day, Hizashi loves to see that they're still together.

Definitely plays favourites with you afterwards and does nothing to hide it.

"Good job! Well done, Y/l/n!" Hizashi says happily. Your cheeks heat up as you sink further into your seat. Ever since your teacher found out about your parents, he has called on you to answer questions way more often. Sure, Iida was bummed that someone took his place as being the teacher's pet but he never showed his irritation.

Present mic continues on with his lesson. You just dose for a bit, getting lost on daydreams. It isn't until he starts handing out the homework packets that you zone back in. Students around you groan at the amount of work he's handing out. Most were expecting to learn about their quirk at the UA. While they got to do just that, they also had to do an insane amount of homework along with it, English including.

As the teacher reaches your table, you notice that the packet he hands you is significantly smaller than that of the other students. You look up at your teacher. Hizashi just sticks his tumb up at you. "Tell your parents I'm coming over after dinner, okay?" he says.

You nod at him. A bright smile flashes over his lips before he continues to walk to the next students. You scan through the homework he just handed you. It will only take fifteen minutes to make, tops. Being the teacher's favourite does have its perks.

MIDNIGHT:

She'll notice that your face feels familiar, but she won't act out on it.

She won't even mention it to you. Instead, she keeps on teaches her class like normal, but you notice that she is being kinder to you.

Nothing out of the ordinary though, not until she saw your parents.

Your mom and dad had been begging for you to show them around campus. They hadn't been inside the building since their teenage years and were desperate to see it again.

That's when Midnight spotted you and your parents walking through the halls. Suddenly the familiarity made sense.

"Hey!" she calls out. Your parent turns around at the sound of her familiar voice.

The rest of the afternoon consisted of them catching up again while you were awkwardly third -well actually forth- wheeling.

After that, she didn't play favourites with you since your parents specifically told her not to.

She was a lot less stern with you, if at all. She never called on you to answer questions in front of the class.

If you made spelling errors on a test, she would pretend to have not seen them.

"Well, that was it for today," Midnight calls out. The class sighs thankfully and quickly packs up their stuff to get the hell out of the classroom. Instead of just grabbing your stuff and bolting out of the room, you stop by Nemuri's desk first. She looks at you with a bright smile.

"How can I help you, Y/n?" she asks. It still feels weird to be called by your first name by a teacher. You nod as you reach into your bag, pulling an old photo book out of it.

You hand it to Nemuri and her face lights up. "My uh, My parents want me to give you this," you say. The last couple of students who are still in the classroom send you weird looks but you don't pay them any mind.

"Thank you so much!" Nemuri says. She starts to flip through the book. Memories flood her mind with every picture she sees. "You look a lot like your dad when he was younger, you know?". She shows you a picture of him from the book to further prove her point.

Embarrassment washes through you as you stare at the picture. Nemuri has her arms slung around your father's waist while planting a kiss on his cheek. Even when she was younger, being a flirt was written into her DNA. She pulls the book away from you once she notices you uncomfortably shifting your weight around.

"Anyways, thank you, parents, for me yeah?" she asks. You nod at her and start walking towards the exit of the room. "Oh, and by the way.". You turn back around to face her. "There's a surprise pop-quiz next week," she says with a wink. You nod at her an make a mental note to start studying tonight. Okay, maybe she plays favourites just a little.

[pregnant-piggy]

Back again - part II

Sirius Black x reader

Words: 3600+

Warnings: swearing

part one

A/N: I’m back! Stressed af, but I could not leave you without part two! So I’m doing this instead of learning for my exams :) It’s the final part, but don’t worry cuz I have more Sirius content for you! XXX

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The street you walk in is completely dark. Every curtain is closed and only four street lanterns are working. You squeeze your eyes to see what the house numbers are. Afraid anyone will see you, you don’t use your wand, but it lies steady in your hand, hidden in the pocket of your coat. You take a few steps closer to a house and read that it is number 14. You step back and walk further. After a few minutes you come to the right house, number 38. You walk to the door and knock.

Nerves rush through your veins as you wait for the door to open. You had never been here before, but Dumbledore had told you this was the right address. You weren’t sure though, it didn’t really seem like a place that-

The door opens, interrupting your thoughts. You look into the light brown eyes of Remus Lupin. He looks shocked; his jaw is dropped and his hand is clasped around the door frame. After a few seconds his confusion changes into a small smile then into a big grin. He pulls you in his arms and holds you tight. You sigh happily; it had been years since someone hugged you like that. A tear rolled down your cheek and you wiped it away with the sleeve of your coat.

‘Come in, come in,’ Remus says with a throaty voice. You step into the small house. You enter a small, dark hall filled with a single coat rack, where you hang up your coat. The living room is just as dark as the hall, but there is a fire burning fiercely in the cold.

‘I’ll get you something to eat…’ Remus mutters and you feel he needs to take a few deep breaths alone in the kitchen.

It is not a very big room and it is filled with a brown couch and a bookcase full of books. Waiting for Remus to return, you walk to the bookcase and look at the books. A summary on vampires; Magical creatures: dangerous or not?; Five ways to defend yourself in front of trolls. Your eyes scan all the books and they stop at a big book without the name on it. You smile when you see it is a photo album filled with pictures of you and your friends. Pictures of sleepovers in the boys’ dormitory, trips to Hogsmeade, photos of birthdays and other parties. On one of the pages you see your favourite photo.

All of you on Halloween in you third year, dressed up as each other. Sirius had gone as Peter and had filled his backpack with candy; Peter dressed up as James, with huge glasses and really messy hair; James had painted his hair red to be Lily; Lily had stolen a big sweater from Remus and was holding up five books; Remus was you, he wore a (y/h/c) wig and your favourite dress; you dressed up as Sirius, wearing his huge T-shirt and you had painted your hair black. You look at your bag that is lying on the ground. That T-shirt is in there. You had never given it back to Sirius, you loved it too much.

You are browsing through the album and your attention is taken by a picture of you and Sirius. You have fallen asleep on the couch in the common room and Sirius is sitting next to you looking at you. Under the picture someone, and you recognise Lily’s handwriting, has written: If you only knew what you feel for each other. You look back at the picture and realise that it is taken in your fifth year. You and Sirius weren’t dating yet but you had told Remus and Lily about your crush, and apparently so had Sirius. You start to cry; you can’t wait to see Sirius.

Remus enters the room and you turn around wiping away your tears. He looks from your face to the book back to your face.

‘I didn’t know you had this,’ you say to Remus. You sit down next to him on the couch.

‘Well yeah, Lily and I made it. I haven’t opened it since she and James died.’ You see the sad look on Remus’ face and you close the album. ‘When did you got here?’ Remus asks you.

‘This morning. I wanted to come to you, but Dumbledore insisted that I came to him first. I met Harry and he told me about what happened since Sirius escaped.’ You sigh; it had been a long day and you were tired, but you still want to hear Remus’ side of the story.

You rest your head on Remus’ shoulder and close your eyes. ‘France sucks you know? Stupid French people with their cheese and baguettes. They ruined baguettes for me!’ You hear Remus chuckle and continue your rant. ‘The only good thing there were the pastries. But they were expensive as hell! And the French wizards! Merlin, are they annoying! I never understood a word they were saying, which is not very nice when you’re duelling. Luckily that only happened a few times.’

Remus suddenly turns to you and looks you in the eye. ‘You haven’t changed at all have you?’ he asks with a  smile. ‘I missed you. I could have used your enthusiasm and positivity, it has not been nice…’

Seeing your questioning face, Remus begins to tell you about the things Harry didn’t. About the new Order, about his time with the werewolves, about the night at the ministry previous summer.

He talks all night and is finished when the sun already starts to rise. You have listened to him without interrupting. Your eyes are red from the sleep you are lacking, but you wouldn’t have wanted this night to be any different. It was nice to talk to Remus again. You had missed him so much. His smile and sarcastic comments, yes, but also the way he listens to your stories and how he trusts you even after this much time apart.

‘The next meeting is next Wednesday. Are you coming?’ Remus asks you while cleaning up his coffee table, that was covered in coffee mugs and candy-bar-wrappings, and you shrug.

‘I don’t know, I think I need to think about what you told me and what Harry told me, but I don’t think that will take until Wednesday. And to be honest I could really use some sleep right now. I haven’t slept for like two days.’ Remus laughs softly and gets up.

‘I have a guestroom,’ he simply says and walks upstairs. You grab your bag and run after him.

- -- -

You are lying on your bed, looking at the ceiling. Despite not having slept in 48 hours go can’t seem to fall asleep. The things you heard today are spooking through your head. Every time you close your eyes you see Sirius’ face, but he is talking to you, saying that he doesn’t recognise you, asking why you took so long to come see him, why you haven’t freed him.

You look at the clock hanging on the wall. It is 4 o’clock. You turn on the bedside lamp and sit on the edge of the bed. After minutes of doubting to grab your bag and take out a notebook. It is filled with letters that Sirius wrote you, during summer vacations and later when he was away for missions.

Sweet (Y/N),

It has only been two weeks since the vacation started but it feels like I haven’t seen you in months! Here at home everything is acceptable. Mum and Dad haven’t noticed I sneak out at night.

I know that you would say I shouldn’t sneak out and that I should be careful. But you don’t have to worry, I came up with a perfect system that I am not going to tell in case this letter falls into the wrong hands.

Next week I am going to James. He is back from his holiday then and he asked me to spend the rest of the vacation there. Maybe you can come over sometime?

Yours, Padfoot

You smiled at the letter. Sirius had written it to you in the summer before fifth year. It wasn’t unusual for him to write letters but every time you got one you had felt special.

Sweet (Y/N),

Please come save me from Prongs. All he can do is talk about Lily, about her hair, her eyes, her face, her skin, her fucking everything! I know you probably have better things to do but I don't think I am going to make it until the first of September if someone doesn't save me!

You smile at Sirius' words. You remember going to James after you got that letter and Sirius literally hugging you so tight that you couldn't breathe. You had blushed and stepped back, softly smiling at the situation.

Browsing through the letters you lose track of time. You cry and laugh at the memories in your love’s handwriting. You haven't read them in a long time, but still remember every single one of them.

Slowly the letters get more and more personal and romantic. Sirius wrote you about everything, every small detail of his life. You get to the period after Hogwarts. The letters he wrote to you when he was away for missions. Or when he was away with James, Remus and Peter on their monthly ‘Man-Break' (for Remus).

You are still smiling when you reach the last letter in your notebook.

My love,

Only two more days and I'll be back. I miss you and I know you miss me too. Everything is alright here, though James is stressing because he thinks he is going to miss Harry's birthday. I have tried everything to calm him down but so far nothing worked. I'll come up with more ideas.

Have you already got a gift for Harry? James said he maybe we could get him something quidditchy (he came up with that word! Don't let Remus see it!). I know Lily wouldn't really like it, but she cannot refuse it if we give it.

I really want to see you. I miss you so much. I know you think this is dangerous and it is, but we’re trained for this. I promise you I’ll come home. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again and kiss your lips and watch every stupid, cheesy, romantic film you want to see.

James is calling for me. Probably to ask what he should write to Lily.

I love you, Sirius

That had been the last multiple-day mission Sirius had gone on. He had promised you that he could never leave you for that long. He would still go on missions, but they were less dangerous, mostly because Lily had forbidden James to go on life-threatening missions, and never for more than two days.

You close your notebook and look at the clock. Two hours have passed since you started reading. You fall back on the bed and close your eyes thinking about your friends and how much you miss them.

When you wake up two hours later you don’t remember falling asleep. You slowly get up and walk down. In the kitchen you find Remus drinking his coffee and reading the paper.

‘Morning,’ he says when he sees you. You mutter a ‘good morning’ back and fill a cup with coffee.

‘So how did you sleep?’ Remus asks when you sit down.

‘Fine,’ you lie and take a sip. Remus squeezes his eyes.

‘Then why do you look like shit?’

You laugh. ‘I have been thinking, and I think I am going to the meeting Wednesday.’ You take another sip of your coffee. ‘So what is the plan for today?’

‘Well since it is such nice weather-’ You laugh; it has been raining since you got here. ‘I thought maybe we could take a walk or something and I have to go to the library to bring back some books.’ You smile, that is such a ‘Remus’ way to spend the day and honestly, you are up for it.

- -- -

You have so much fun with Remus and the two days go by fast. Together with him you feel home. It brings back memories of after Hogwarts, when you and Remus stayed home together while Sirius went out on missions. The both of you then only fell asleep at sunrise, your night filled with worries.

And even now you stay up late with Remus, but not to worry about Sirius, or at least Remus doesn’t; you are still scared what will happen if you see Sirius. You spend your nights talking about your time in France and his time here back home. You learn more about when he was a teacher at Hogwarts and he tells you about Harry and all the ‘adventures’ this one has been on.

Staring at your bag on the floor on the floor of the room Remus gave you, you try to take dep breaths. When you agreed to go to the meeting, you didn’t expect to be so nervous. What if Sirius doesn’t want to see you? Or worse, what if he found someone else? You feel nauseous, like you haven’t eaten enough.

‘Are you ready?’ Remus asks. You get up.

‘Yes, let’s just get it over with,’ you say.

Outside Remus gives you his arm and you take it. After looking around to be sure no one sees you, Remus disapparates and are being pulled with him. You hold in your breath and close your eyes. The familiar feeling makes you even more nauseous and light-headed. When you land on the sidewalk of the street you open your eyes and take a deep breath. Remus is standing next to you also looking a little sick but when he opens his eyes he smiles at you.

In front of you appears the house you had only been to twice. One time when you picked up Sirius with the Potters and a second time after you graduated at Hogwarts to pick up some stuff for Sirius. You had gone with James and Remus and luckily Sirius’ parents weren’t home. When you look at the house you notice it has not changed at all. The front door is still the same black colour and it looks like it is the same paint it was twenty years ago. All the curtains are closed and it looks like there is no one home.

You and Remus walk up to the door and Remus knocks on it. You take deep breath and your legs are shaking. The door opens and Mrs. Weasley appears. She smiles at Remus and her eyes widen when she sees you.

‘(Y/N)!’ she gasps. You smile softly at her reaction and let her take you into a hug. ‘I haven’t seen you in so long! How are you?’

‘Shall we discuss that inside?’ Remus asks, while looking around the street and Molly nods. You follow them inside and look around.

You are standing in a dark hall. The walls are painted dark grey and the floor is black. On the ceiling there is a chandelier with a lot of dust on it. It gives you the feeling you are in a haunted house. Even the Shrieking Shack would be a better place to live.

‘Cosy,’ you mumble and Remus laughs. Molly walks to a door that leads to the kitchen. There are a few people already there but no one notices you.

‘How long have you been here?’ Molly asks you as you sit down and slowly people start to recognise you. Their eyes widen and some jaws drop. Swiftly you are surrounded by people who ask you questions and want to know how you are.

‘But I thought you were in France?’

‘What was it like there?’

‘Weren’t you banned from England?’

And then someone asks a question that makes your stomach turn upside down.

‘Does Sirius know you’re here?’ You look at Remus and then shake your head.

‘No, he does not, I got back here Sunday and I haven’t had the chance to contact him,’ you answer. You answer all the other questions but the later it gets, the more nervous you feel.

After half an hour you hear a familiar voice.

‘What is going on here?’

You recognise the voice. Of course you do. It is a voice you could never forget, not even if you tried. It is the voice with a little rasp, a deep, heavy sound. It is the voice that makes your head spin. The voice that makes you shiver. The voice that you haven’t heard in fifteen years. The voice of the man you loved, still love.  

The people around you step aside so Sirius can see you. With every person that steps aside you can see more and more of the person you came for. The man with the long, black, silky hair and the stormy grey eyes. You see his feet, his strong legs, his hands. Merlin, his hands. His beautiful muscled hands that used to touch your body every second you were near him. Every time you were near him his hands instantly found your body. His hands on you back, your hips, your shoulder, your thighs, your hands. His hands were everywhere.

You hesitate. You are afraid to look him in the eye. You are afraid he is not the person he used to be, you are afraid he has changed. Not that change is bad, but what if it is?

Slowly you look up. Sirius is still looking at the other people around you. He hasn’t noticed you. Yet.

He follows the direction everyone is looking at. You can feel your heart beating and you are pretty sure everyone can hear it. Finally his gaze meets yours and he doesn’t move. He drops his hands alongside his body and stares at you, with an open mouth. You form a little smile when you see his face.

‘Hi,’ you say softly but loud enough for everyone to hear it. People around you look between you and Sirius; you can see their heads moving, but all you can focus on his the man in front of you.

Sirius closes his mouth and then opens it again to say something. But nothing comes. The fear in your head gets worse. This is what you imagined. He doesn’t want to see you, he probably moved on from you, you are nothing but an ex for him. The girl he used to date.

You feel tears coming up, but you refuse to look away. You want to see his reaction, no matter how much it will hurt you. Sirius shakes his head and you feel like you have been stabbed. Your nails scratch on the table when you move your hand and you hear it. Everyone does. The room is absolute silent. Nobody makes a sound. Everyone is staring at you or Sirius.

You keep staring into Sirius’ eyes. Then slowly you start to notice a glimmering in his eyes. No metaphorical one, but a physical one. Sirius is crying, or on the edge of. The corners of his mouth go up and the slightest smile appears on his face. You feel the relieve falling off you. Your heart starts to beat harder, but more lively. The blood rushes through your body.

The little smile turns bigger and bigger, until Sirius is grinning. You let out a laugh from relieve and people around you start to smile carefully. Sirius walks towards you and you get up. When he is in front of you, he takes your hand and places his other one on your cheek. You look him in the eye and you feel like an idiot smiling so much. You start crying at the sight of Sirius’ tears. The tears roll down your face but Sirius keeps looking at your eyes. Your faces are now inches away from each other and you could easily lean in and close the space but something is keeping you from doing that. The fear is still in your body. Fear of being rejected after all these years.

‘Stop crying,’ Sirius whispers and you feel his breath against your skin. ‘Everything is alright, love.’

You kiss him immediately when you hear his words. And without hesitation he kisses you back. It is a rough, but passionate kiss and you wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. Feeling Sirius’ lips on yours makes you relax. Your hands on his chest, his hands on your back and in your hair.

People around you start to cheer and you smile into the kiss. Before pulling apart Sirius bites your lip and you moan softly so only he can hear it. You can see the arousal in his eyes and you grin. You take his hand and pull him out of the room. You drag him to the nearest room and close the door behind you. You stare into Sirius’ eyes and he kisses you again, rough and passionate, but also soft, like he is trying to express his feelings through his kiss.

‘Fuck,’ he breathes when he breaks the kiss. You rest your heads together and you giggle. The tears are still running down your cheeks but you don’t care. You relax when you feel Sirius’ hands on your back. You stay like this for a long time until Sirius says:

‘I missed you so much. I thought I would never see you again, where were you?’

‘France.’

‘France?’

‘Yeah, the ministry apparently doesn’t appreciate weekly letters about how much they fucked up.’

-------------------------------------------------------------

Taglist:

@with1love1anu @somethingcedric @transparentttttttttt @sirius-satellite @arundhati-1082004 @figlia--della--luna @heavenly-ascended-melodies @princess-kiwiii @bumbelbeeesblog @mymindisweirdpwp @ronniethelost @girllety @cheoco @malikinglove @alwaysinmydaydreams @eateraa @bi-andready-tocry @ikik44 @scnkhnkejkvgfjlkgg @fangirlofbooksandpasta @littlemissgothgirl @doitforthevine67 @sporadicsportswombatcolor @kitkatkl @yuptha-tsme @mrs-moony @secretsthathauntus @teheharrypotter

[pawpadink]

Art Feedback Session - Spookydoesstuff

"Our task was to make a mock intro to a show using our own original stories, either ones we had in the past or ones we made in class. I used Adobe Animate, which isn't very traditional for art to begin with.

I wanted something dramatic and more anime-esqe (inspirations being Persona 5's 2D animation, as well as the Cowboy Beebop intro.

The render itself didn't turn out as high quality as I had hoped, but that's on me for not figuring out how to render in a higher quality. With my time crunch (I had put off working on this until I had 1 1/2 days left, on top of a project for another class.)

I feel this could have been better? But I'm satisfied with it. I just wished someone had said something, even just asking about my characters (I dont generally ask here, at least about these specific ocs, just because I've had them so long and I want to give out more of their story through context and art. But in that class no one had seen them before and I would have loved explaining their story better than just 'alien cats')"

-- Spookydoesstuff

So! Let's start with the good. The color contrast is lovely, the bright red against the monochrome is a classic high tension color combo that really sells the adversarial stress of the scene. The characters themselves each have their own unique silhouettes, which means if you just filled each of the characters in with pure black and then showed me their reference sheets I could easily identify which character is which. The line work here is very crisp and clear, which for animation lends very well to streamlining and simplifying things. Your style itself applies very nicely to an animation style, again, thanks to its general simplicity will make the whole animation process much easier than a more detailed or complex style or design.

When thinking of areas of improvement, the first thing that is brought to my attention is expression. With the four-eyed cat in the second image, at a glance it's hard to see he's furrowing his brow a bit and his current expression comes across more as a neutral expression than a concerned, worried, or frustrated expression. I would recommend here adding a bit of emphasis on the expression with the eyelids or eyebrows so that it goes into the general shape of the eye instead of just above it or add a stylized eyebrow so it is more visible against the dark fur. Due to the thin line art, the line that marks where he's furrowing his brow is hard to spot.

Your art would also benefit from expression through body language! Cats, in particular, are incredibly expressive through body language. The ears in particular here are showing no emotion- Cats when anxious, scared, or angry will pin their ears back. Perhaps a bit more emphasis on bristling fur too- in the nape of the neck and the tail. Fluffing of tails is not just fear, but also aggression when raised high or thrashing. When curved it's fear. The nervous cat in the second picture might want to be keeping her head a little lower, as nervous cats will duck down, especially if submissive. Of course, since these are not standard cats, you are welcome to take these cat behaviors and alter them to your alien culture's standards! Go wild!

Also, look into playing with the line of action a little more. Even with characters that are standing still, exaggerating some curves in their body will add a hearty dose of personality. Plus, look into the 'law' of stretch and squish- I use the term law here loosely, it's more of a guideline.

(Here are some image scans from a book called Cartoon Animation by Preston Blair, and there's a lovely tutorial on expressions from the comic Lackadaisy here!)

Next I'd like to mention the shading. There is a bit of an inconsistency between the way you shaded each character. Although lighting direction was ignored for style here, the particular techniques used for each piece should remain the same throughout each frame of an animation, each panel of a comic, or between related images in general. In the second photo, the highlights on the four-eyed cat almost looked like fur patterning, so maybe refining that highlight by making it a little darker would make it more obvious it was a highlight and not a change in fur color?

I think if you were given a little more time you would have managed with the shading, but still something of note to keep in mind for the future~

Finally I would like to address the environment... or the lack of it. The bright red background is lovely, especially in this grey scale-pop style of colors. My only issue is that it feels like they're floating in some red void- you have the darker red to denote the ground, but it doesn't feel very consistent with where the characters are placed and there's no shapes in the background to denote any kind of environment- no tree silhouettes, no building silhouettes, or any other objects that could denote where the characters are.

Above is an example from Persona 5 which kind of shows what I'm talking about. Looking at some perspective tutorials will actually show you a way you can manipulate the floor or gradients to help add some solidity to the ground. With this style I wouldn't even say you would need to add nearly as much detail to them as Persona 5's art- just some dark shapes and perhaps a gradient of sorts to give a sense of location to the scene would help.

Overall, wonderful job! My first impression was 'Oh hey this looks like something from Persona 5!' so you really got that feel you were looking for. You also immediately get a sense of relationship here- from an outsider's perspective with zero previous information on who these characters are or how they are related. You can clearly tell the four eyed cat is protecting the female cat in the back, and there's a sense of either accusation from the one-eyed cat or threat, and that the other two almost seem to be distressed as if they were once close to this character.

Keep up the good work, don't feel discouraged with the lack of feedback from your class. I really feel with a bit of practice in terms of expression and body language you can really make some great waves with your art! You have a great foundation.

In terms of art program recommendations, my wife and I both use Clip Studio Paint. You need the EX version for feature length animations unfortunately, but the PRO version is much cheaper and lets you do some very short animations however it is a very powerful illustration and comic tool as well. Krita is a totally free program that will let you animate as well and has a pretty robust illustration feature itself, but I'm not sure if it has anything specific for comic making.

A big thank you to Spookydoesstuff for being our first review and for being so pleasant to speak to! Please check out more of their art and their blog by clicking here to go to their tumblr!

[sweet-barnes]

Those Heels - b.b

Pairing: Bucky x tall!Reader (modern au)

Summary: You found your family in university and they had never left your side, and even after all these years the ‘surprise’ birthday parties are still going strong. Bucky finally decided it’s the right night to go after the girl.

A/N: i’m really bad with summaries, i apologise for whatever that is lmao thank you to @invisibleanonymousmonsters and @writingsoftheloser for helping out with ideas/concepts when writing a tall!reader, i appreciate it💕

You were grateful for your friends, there was no denying that. They were such a big part of your life since the day you had met, you knew you would be a completely different person altogether without them.

It had all started at university, in the student accommodation where you were all put on the same floor by some miracle. You met Natasha first, you had walked into your assigned room and she was already laying out paint samples ready for decorating. You knew from then on you were going to be in trouble with her. It wasn't long before she was introducing you to the rest of her group, and there was a lot of them.

The girls were in the rooms that surrounded you, so you naturally met them first. Wanda, Nakia, Peggy and Okoye were the sweetest bunch you had ever met and you instantly felt part of their little family. 

Next were the boys, all which you met at the party that was thrown at Tony's house. Natasha had explained to you on the way that he was the ‘rich one’ so he refused to stay in student digs. Instead residing in his dad’s mansion near the university and one of his many expensive cars in every day. 

Once you arrived at his place, you were blown away. You had only seen houses like these in passing, never did you think you would be invited to a party in one. The huge windows indented in the pristine white walls showed off the colourful lights inside and the masses of people who were already in there.  

The music could be heard thrumming from outside and as you all piled out of the car, you were pulled towards the entrance by Wanda.

Inside is where you met the rest of your family, unbeknownst to them. From Steve Rogers to Peter Quill, T'Challa to Tony Stark. There were so many people, you didn't think you could keep track of them all, but now you knew them like the back of your hand.

The one person who definitely stuck in your mind was the one brooding in the corner. His fluffy dark hair and his piercing blue eyes took your breath away as soon as you were introduced to him. 

Bucky Barnes had your heart from the moment you set eyes on him, but that dream was soon shattered by the small blonde that sidled up to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and placing her head against his arm. 

You knew from then on you never stood a chance with him, and the countless other girls he introduced to the group just clarified that. You gave up on that dream quickly, promising yourself you wouldn't get too close to him for your heart to break.

Very soon after that, you may have let your secret crush on him slip to the girls. Of course they freaked out but you soon shot them down, not wanting them to get your own hopes up for something that wasn't going to happen. The way you said "he only likes small girls" gave away to them how you really felt and they tried their hardest to make you see it from their view, but it was no use. 

They were all so petite, yet so strong and powerful in the way they held themselves. They would never understand how you felt within yourself.  It wasn't that you didn't think you were strong and powerful, you knew as a woman you had your place in this world to do your bit for the better. You just weren't petite like them. You were at least a head taller and you felt like you didn't belong.

Despite the sharing your insecurities one drunken night at fresher’s, the girls never let go of you. Your friendship with them, even though it was only 5 days old at the time, was too precious for them to lose. That still stood 11 years later.

--

You placed the jumpsuit in front of your body, looking it up and down in the mirror before throwing it back down on the bed. "Are you excited?" Natasha asked as she walked into the room, a black body con dress hugging her body. You let out a groan, plopping back onto your bed. "Am I ever excited for one of Tony's parties?"

Tony was still rich, of course he was, he was a genius. His habit of having parties at every possible opportunity had never wavered, and birthday's were no exception to that rule. A 'surprise' birthday party was thrown every year for everyone within the group, even though all of you knew it was coming, it was like clockwork.

Everyone else loved it, you on the other hand, would rather be curled up on the sofa with a tub of Ben and Jerry's watching Netflix. You couldn't exactly avoid this one, it was your birthday and this party was especially for you.

The girls had taken you shopping earlier that day, which had already set your anxiety off. You hated clothes shopping and even though they tried their hardest to get you to buy a nice dress for the evening, you still arrived home with a jumpsuit, a classic look for you. There was no way you were going to a party that you were already uncomfortable with and making that worse with a dress.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy it once you get there," Natasha sat next to you and that's when you noticed the gift bag in her hand. "Nat, I told you I didn't want anything," you gave her a look before flitting your eyes down to the sparkly bag, curious to see what was inside. 

"I know but I couldn't not get my best friend something for her birthday, and it's a bit of a risky present if I'm honest but I would really appreciate it if you maybe wore them tonight?" Your mind was all over the place trying to think of what it could possibly be. Natasha pushed the bag towards you and you didn't waste any time in pulling out the tissue paper to reveal what was inside.

You lifted the shoes out, or should you say heels, and turned them slightly to inspect them. "Do you like them?" Natasha whispered next to you, leaning in slightly. They were black, thick straps along the top and around the ankle, with a small chunky heel and a slight platform.

They were pretty, you couldn't deny it, and they were just your style. "Yes," you breathed out. Without thinking, you shooed Natasha out, telling her you would be two minutes before changing into your outfit and putting on the shoes.

You stared at your figure in the mirror, the jumpsuit hugging in at your waist and stopping just above your ankles, showing off the straps on the heels perfectly. There was a slight plunge neckline, showing off your chest just enough that you didn't feel completely ridiculous. 

"Oh my god," that was when you heard the murmuring from the doorway and you turned to see all your girls stood there, mouths dropping at the sight of you.

"You look gorgeous!" Wanda squealed, making everyone laugh. Every one joined in with the compliments and you felt the heat rising to your cheeks at all the attention you were getting. 

"Don't we have a party to get to?" You questioned, attempting to stop the onslaught of comments. It worked in your favour and soon, you were all piling into a taxi, making your way to another of Tony's mansions.

You felt the base through the floor as you stepped in through the double doors. You looked around at the familiar faces, shooting back a thank you every time someone greeted you with a 'happy birthday.' Most of these people were just acquaintances, people your group had met along the way and had been nice enough to be invited to one of the parties. 

To be honest, Tony just liked having a lot of people at his parties. 

You all weaved your way through the crowds of people, picking up your drinks in the kitchen and making your into one of the large back rooms. Every one you knew and loved was in there and as soon as they saw you, a chorus of happy birthday's was shouted in your direction.

You couldn't help the giggle that erupted from you as you went in to give everyone a hug, all their grips strong on you as they pulled you into them. "You're getting old now," Sam joked, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his side. You gasped, "hey, that's rude," you gave him a light slap on his chest before laughing along with him.

You looked around at the small circle your friends had formed, consisting of Natasha, Nakia, Steve, Sam and Bucky. Your eyes scanned them all, taking in the joyous looks on their faces before your eyes landed on Bucky. 

Your heart leapt as you locked eyes with him, a smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth as he looked you up and down.

A wave of self-consciousness fell over you and you felt yourself retreating slightly into Sam's side. You sent Bucky a quick smile before looking back at Steve to try and concentrate on the story he was telling.

And the night went on like that. Flitting between different groups of your friends, trying not to feel out of place. 

You had noticed a few glances from people as you were taking photos, especially with the girls. It was now just natural for you to bend your knees slightly when taking selfies with them, you had been doing it since you had first met but clearly other people weren't used to it. You tried to ignore them the best you could but with the more alcohol you consumed, the more irritating it became.

You were at the bar again, ordering another drink when you felt the presence of someone beside you. Their musky vanilla smell hit you, and you recognised it instantly. 

"You look really good tonight, Y/N." His voice was husky and you could tell he'd been drinking. You looked to your side, taking in his sculpted face next to you. "Do you not have some small blonde with you tonight?" You attempted to joke but you truly meant it. Bucky chuckled, "not this time, got my eye on someone else."

You rolled your eyes, taking the drink that had just been placed in front of you, not saying anything else.

"I noticed you were wearing heels, that's a-" Bucky was cut of by a sharp "hey." You both turned to see Nakia stood behind you, a stern look directed straight at Bucky. She was the wrong person to mess with and clearly Bucky had pissed her off. 

"You do not say anything about her heels, do you understand Barnes?" She pointed a finger at him, nudging him slightly and the bewildered look on his face nearly made you laugh. "What? I wasn't going to say anything-" She cut him off again. "I heard you, James," you took the opportunity to sneak away, hearing their voices fading as Bucky was trying to defend himself against her.

If there was anyone that would stick up for you, Nakia was the best for it, everyone listened to her and they didn’t dare try to disagree. You slipped out onto the balcony, grateful for the cool evening air against your hot skin. You took another sip of your drink and the alcohol burned slightly as it went down.

Of course it was Bucky who would point out the heels. He just couldn't help himself. For someone who was so good with the ladies, he definitely didn't know how to talk to one. Or talk to you at least.

The door behind you slid open, letting out the loud music before muting it again as it closed. "Y/N?" Bucky's voice was soft and you turned to meet his nervous stance. "Look, I'm really sorry about what I said back there, Nakia explained it and I really didn't mean it to come across any type of way," his was wringing his hands together as he looked at you. 

You let out a sigh, "it's okay, Buck, I know you didn't mean any harm." His womaniser demeanor was gone as he moved to stand next to you. A moment passed before he spoke again, "I was going to say you look really hot actually," chuckling at himself. 

Your heart stopped, questioning whether he really just said that. "And I'm not just saying that to sleep with you, I know you think I'm like that sometimes but I wouldn't do that to you."

You eventually found your voice, looking into Bucky's hopeful eyes as he tried to read your thoughts. "I'm not like any other girl you've ever been with Bucky, why now?" There was a shift in the way he looked at you before he looked down. 

"Since the first day I met you at Tony's party, 11 years ago, I knew I felt something for you. I was just a dick and I slept around too much and I knew you didn't like it, I could tell by the way you looked at each new girl whenever I showed up with one. Then you became more and more distant, I knew it would be harder to get to you and make you see how I felt so I thought it was better to leave it," he paused, taking a deep breath. Your mind was all over the place, not knowing what to say or do, but Bucky carried on anyway.

"But I've stopped that now, I've been single for about a year and I was hoping you'd see that and see I'm not the guy that you thought I was but I guess that was a stupid plan." You laughed a little at this and Bucky joined in. "I was going to ask if you'd like to dance with me?" 

Your mouth was already agreeing to it before you could fully process what was happening. Bucky took your hand in his, leading you back inside and into the cleared area that had become the dancefloor. A slow song had started playing and couples were paired together around you. 

As you walked into the centre with Bucky, you felt eyes from all over the room looking at you. Your gaze landed on Natasha's over the shoulder of Bruce, she sent you a wink before a big smile broke out onto her face. She knew your feelings for Bucky never truly faded and she couldn't help the happiness she felt at seeing you two finally together now.

Bucky turned to face you, his arms snaking around your waist, pulling you close to him while your arms went over his shoulders. "Is this alright?" He whispered, his blue eyes sparkling even in the low light, as you looked across at him. You simply hummed in response, nodding slightly. 

No one said anything. Your skin was on fire from where his arms were touching you, even through your clothes and a feeling of serenity washed over you. It was like everyone else in the room melted away and it was just you and Bucky dancing alone. No more eyes prying into your business or making you feel small.

"This is nice," you said softly, Bucky placed his forehead on yours, closing the distance even further. You felt yourself becoming flustered and moved your head to rest on his shoulder instead. He moved your body so it was flush against his. "I could do this forever," he murmured into your hair. "How have I been missing out this long?" 

You were sure he was talking to himself at this point but you couldn't help yourself, "well... if you hadn't screwed all those other girls-" 

You were cut off by his hands moving to tickle your waist, his laugh mixing with yours as you tried to get away. "No, you're not going anywhere," he tried to grab you again but you were too quick. 

"Just watch me, Barnes!" You shouted, slipping away into the crowd. Bucky shook his head at you, pausing for a second to watch your figure disappear. 

“Why did I wait so long?” He whispered to himself, before running into the crowd after you.

[jokers-of-the-impractical]

Brian Quinn Mini Series “Don’t You Remember?” Part 1 of 3

(A/N: Woohoo! Part 1 is here! All three parts of this mini series are based on Adele songs, the titles of these songs will also serve as the title of the chapter. Also trigger warning: some swearing, minor counts of abuse, and miscarriage. Enjoy!)

Word count: 3000ish?

As I took one last look in the mirror and smoothed my hair down. I embraced in seeing my reflection in the mirror, it has been so long since I had looked anywhere close to decent, let alone actually dressing up with my hair, nails, and makeup done for an event. I sharply let out a deep breath that I didn’t know I was holding in and reminded myself to have an amazing time tonight. I was walked out of my bathroom and into my bedroom I looked around to see all the progress I had recently made in the past month or so. My bedroom was no longer littered with empty food containers, dirty clothes everywhere, and most importantly I was no longer a wreck that was either huddled up on the floor curled into a ball, only moving to my bed, the kitchen, or the bathroom. Remembering the last year and the hell I had endure I never thought I would be okay again. I stopped the thoughts that were pooling in my head, tonight was about me and my life, I was not gonna spend any more time thinking about my stupid ex boyfriend and havoc he wreaked on my life. Besides tonight I was going to see the celebrity that I wanted to be my boyfriend in real life so that made me beyond thrilled. I was taken out of my day-dream by the sound of my phone notifying me that my Uber was a minute away,  I gave my cat a few pets and a kiss on the head before I got in my Uber and began my journey to the venue.

As I was dropped outside of the venue I saw the giant sign lighting up with the four friendly faces that were the event. Sal, Murr, Joe, and Q all with the biggest smiles with tonight’s date in big letters. I could barely contain my excitement as I got in line. I smoothed my black jumpsuit and waited eagerly to get inside. I looked around to see what other people chose to wear and I was nervous. A lot of people came in t-shirts and shorts and there I stood with my hair curled, with a cat-eye and deep red lipstick, dark painted nails, and in a skin-tight black jumpsuit with a sheer netting top with two lace appliques on the chest with a nude camisole layered underneath, it was topped off with my favorite opal halo ring, stud earrings, my nose ring, and finally my black vans. I decided to heck with it! I love this outfit and that is all that matters. Soon, I got up to the front of the line got my ticket scanned and went inside to find my seat. Not long after sitting and waiting the stage lights lowered and the venue erupted with screams and applause as the Jokers entered the stage.

 The show was a blast! It was filled with so much silliness and laughter, and meshed into an enjoyable blur as I found myself exiting the venue and waiting near their tour bus. I had done this so many times after concerts that I hoped that maybe I’d get to at least see them up close in person. While I waited with the ten or so other people that had the same idea. I chatted with the roadies and other various crew that were outside, just because they weren’t famous didn’t mean they were any less cool, so I talked them about cool stories from tours they’ve done and any other topics that came up. After standing out there for what felt like hours, the jokers came out of the venue and the other people pushed and shoved past me trying to get photos and autographs from the guys. I was beyond star-struck to see the four guys who unknowingly gotten me through so much recently that I froze in place. I felt my hand slip into my bag and clutch on the envelope I had in there. I was in awe seeing them like a few feet in front of me. But I also realized when everyone else pushed past me I was now at the back of the line. I mean don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled to see them not through a TV screen but part of me hoped that I would be able to give Q the letter I wrote him in person. Seeing how after his horrible love life he was still able to find joy and bring it to others as well inspired me and played a huge part in helping me get over the nasty breakup I went through with my ex Dean. I stayed at the back listening to them talking to the fans and answering questions and debated leaving seeing as there was no way I was going to get to talk to Q. As I was about to turn around and leave Sal spoke up,

“Hey what about you back there standing all by your lonesome?” I looked around, surely he couldn’t be talking to me. “Yeah you! In the black jumpsuit.” Oh my God, he is talking to me. He motioned me to come over, and had the group of fans make a path for me. I gently shuffled to face the Jokers, I could barely breathe and I was practically shaking with excitement. There before were the Impractical Jokers. I took a brief moment and glanced at each one of them, Q last of course because he had always been my favorite. When I looked at his facial expression, I couldn’t quite place it. I had never seen him make that face on the show before.

“What’s your name?” Joe asked.

“I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you guys.”

“Hey Y/N! It’s nice to meet you too, is there anything we can do for you? A picture, an autograph?” Murr asked with his bright smile never fading

“I mean I would love a picture, but I don’t want to keep you guys too long. I mean I’m traveling to your show tomorrow night too, so it’s not a big deal or anything.” I saw Sal nudge Q once or twice on the arm before Joe finally spoke up. “Oh of course! Don’t worry you’re not taking up too much time or anything we love you guys!” I beamed a ginormous smile when he said that and asked one of the other fans to take a photo of all four of us and thanked them as they handed me my phone back. Now, I knew it was now or never that I had to give Q the letter so I piped up again.

“There is one more thing! If that’s okay?” I know they had just said it was, but I still wanted to check. Now, Joe tapped on Q. Huh, he was really shy in person, he didn’t speak a single word since I’ve been up here.

Sal smiled and was the one to answer this time, “Heck yeah, what can we do for ya Miss Y/N?” As soon he asked, he looked back at Q and I heard a small exasperated sigh.

My hands got shaky again as I reached into my purse and pulled out the letter sealed in an envelope and addressed to Q. “Um here, Q. I have this letter I wrote you and I was hoping to give it to you in person.” As soon as I said his name Q’s eyes darted to mine. He took it from and paused for a second. The whole world seemed to be silent in that moment.

Finally I heard Brian Quinn speak, “is it okay with you if I read it now, like not out loud or anything. I just want you to be here when I read it.” I felt a blush rise to my cheeks, never did I think I would be standing in front of Brian Quinn as he read my story about my horrible ex boyfriend who broke my heart and left me during some the of worst parts of my life to be faced alone. Just a year ago I was sure I was gonna marry Dean, that he was it. But instead he chose to flirt with my best friend, cheat on me, and claimed I was lying when I told I was pregnant after I got fed up and left him. He still thought I was lying when I told him the stress he caused me resulted in a miscarriage. Through the whole breakup (and most of the relationship too) Dean had me convinced that everything that happened was my fault and I should have been grateful to have him be willing to date me in the first place. The only thing that got me out of a year long slum of sadness and heartache for the Dean I used to know and the child I had lost was watching Impractical Jokers, they were the people that taught me to smile and laugh again. Because of them I went back to work teaching elementary school and finding happiness and joy in the little things. I nodded my head to Q that he could read it now. Before them, I used to look back at the relationship begging Dean to remember why he loved me before, but they helped me realize I deserved more.

I watched him open the envelope, take out the multipage letter and begin to read it. I could tell when he was getting into all the gory details of my breakup by the way his face showed sadness, and then anger. The guys kept watching him, trying to figure out what was going on in the letter. Finally, as he was getting to the end I saw a small smile on his face. He put the letter back in the envelope and said in a shy voice, “could hang around for a few minutes after everyone else has left? I wanna talk to you about this, but I also wanna make sure everyone gets their photos and stuff.”

“Sure, I could do that.” I let a giggle. After everyone else left, the first thing Q did was hug me. My brain was on fire! My celebrity crush was hugging me? AHH!! OMG YES! It was no measly hug either, it was a giant bear hug, he enveloped me and we stayed like that for a few moments. Finally we pulled away.

“Hey, if this isn’t too forward, what are you doing right now?”

“Umm. Nothing? I was just gonna go home, get ready for tomorrow’s show and go to bed.”

“Would you like to get some food with us? I know a really good 24-hour diner that we’ve gone to when we’ve toured here before.” Okay this had to be a dream, or you hit your head on your ceiling of Uber and are hallucinating right now. There was no way this was happening!

“I would love that!” And with that you and the guys piled into a sleek black SUV and made your way to the restaurant.

 On the way there you heard Sal mutter to Joe and Murr, “Geeze this guy practically can’t speak to her cause he thinks she’s so pretty, and now he’s inviting her out to food not 5 minutes later. What is up with him!” Joe and Murr exchanged glances and giggled. They both knew what this feeling was, it was what Joe felt with Bessy and Murr with Melyssa. Wait, he thinks I’m pretty? At the diner, you enjoyed the company of all the guys, with your permission Q divulged into the contents of the letter. By the time it was over Sal was hugging you and practically bawling, Murr was in shock and didn’t know what to say, and Joe was ready to hunt Dean down and kill him. You insisted you were okay and asked to spend the rest of the evening focusing on happy stuff. When it was time to go, Q had you put your phone number in his phone and he did the same with yours. As you were about to order an Uber to take you back home, Q grabbed your hand.

“This might sound crazy... But since you’re a teacher you don’t work tomorrow right?”

“Tomorrow is Saturday so no I do not have work tomorrow.”

“Awesome, so why don’t you come with us on the tour bus to the show tomorrow? It’s so far from here I would hate to think of the travel time it would take you tomorrow.” That really threw you off guard. Brain Quinn wants me to go with him and his buddies on their tour bus, overnight? The other guys chimed in and agreed with him. You thought it over for a moment, ya know what? Why not! This is a once in a lifetime opportunity!

“Sure! I’m down!” They all cheered but then a groan left my lips. “Shoot, but what am I gonna wear? What about the smeared makeup I’ll wake up with?”

“Don’t worry we’ll get that taken care of, Bessy and Melyssa are coming tomorrow so I’m sure they can grab some yoga pants and makeup remover on the way. And plus we have tons of merch shirts so you could take one!” Wow, he really thought of everything didn’t he. 

-THE NEXT EVENING-

Bessy and Melyssa were super sweet! Sure enough they came with makeup wipes and some really cute yoga pants that went really well with the tour shirt. I was invited to watch backstage with them and I happily agreed. As the guys were about to go on-stage I heard Sal, Murr, and Joe whispering about some prank punishment they were going to pull on Q at the end of the show. Occasionally, they’d look over at me and then go back to plotting so quietly I couldn’t hear them. Again tonight the show was amazing and funny! These guys just had such amazing chemistry with the audience and each other. Finally it was the end of the show when Joe piped up.

“Before we end for the night, we have a surprise addition to this performance, don’t we boys?” He looked over at Murr and Sal, Q looked around confused.

“Oh that’s right Joseph!” exclaimed Sal, “We have something special planned. And for this, I’m gonna need my buddy Q to go stand in the middle of the stage alone.” Q looked over the guys still wondering what was going on, then he briefly looked at me and then made his way to the middle of the stage.

Murr spoke next, “Joe, Sal, and I thought it would be fun to do an impromptu live punishment on Q. Does that sound good?” Q groaned and the whole crowd cheered. A live punishment how cool! I wondered what they have in mind.

But as soon as Sal started explaining the punishment I tired to put the pieces together. “Ya see,” Sal began, “Very recently Q has become friends with a girl that he finds very very pretty.” Q’s eyes went wide and the crowd continued to scream.

Murr continued “Yup! Just last night, after she fell asleep he could not stop going on about how he thinks he fell in love at first sight, and then after spending hours talking to her, he knew he was sure!” Huh? Did he meet someone else last night? Huh I’m not surprised he’s a chick magnet and amazing.

Joe followed “So we’re gonna need her to come out here right now to do this punishment. Come on out Y/N!” My jaw dropped. Brain thought I was pretty and thought it was love at first sight yesterday! Before I knew what was happening Bessy and Melyssa were leading me to the middle of the stage. Where I was placed right next to Q and the crowd went wild.

The boys asked in unison, “Q are you ready for your punishment?” He looked at me with a shy smile, gulped and then nodded his head. “ASK Y/N ON A DATE!!!” they screamed at the top of their lungs. The noise of the audience was now deafening. Joe came over and handed Q a mic. Then Brain turned to face me, his cheeks the brightest color of red.

“Uh,” he started out. “Hi Y/N.” I was then handed a mic too by Murr.

“Hi.” He leaned in and took a closer look at my face.

“Wait this is you without makeup?” He motioned to my face as he asked.

I nodded my head “yup.”

“Wow, you’re even more beautiful than yesterday. So uhh. Would you like to go on a date with me?” I didn’t even say anything I just turned and hugged him, and kissed him on the cheek. The guys started cheering with everyone else.

Sal said one last time “Okay, so maybe that wasn’t a punishment for Q, but it definitely was for Y/N!” with a laugh “We are the Tenderloins from Impractical Jokers have a good night everyone!” With that we all walked off stage. My mind was racing, Dean who? A year ago I was begging him to remember me, but now I was begging for him to forget me as soon as possible, because the Brian Quinn and I had a date to look forward to.

(A/N: If you read this far, thank you! I know it was LONG. Feedback is always appreciated :) )