#my laptop is still busted but i wanted to get these requests done while i can!

[sillaysockz]

Ok so.....

I have another stupid request similar to the baby Simba one

But it's gonna be Tord in a Mario costume with Edd in a Peach costume with Tord carrying his ass and struggling

yahoo!!

[itsallyscorner]

Omg after Tom showing off his thighs in that Jimmy Fallon interview, please please please could you write something about thigh riding him 💙

Not me immediately working on this once I saw it in my inbox💀 I’m supposed to be clearing my inbox out, but when this popped in I couldn’t help it🙈 I also haven’t done smut in a while so THANK YOU for requesting this😌💞

💌.

Use Me*

Warnings: SMUT! She’s a nasty one. If this is a bit messy, I’m sorry, I haven’t written smut in ages😭

(GIF from @tomhollandnet )

“Citizen Kane!” Your boyfriend confidently blurted out to his laptop. He must’ve done something wrong because his eyes widened in surprise.

“Oh, hang on a minute!” He stuttered placing his hand on his chest. You heard Jimmy Fallon laugh from the laptop and explain the rules of the game again. You let out a quiet laugh yourself from behind his set up, though your eyes drifted down to his bare legs that bounced up and down.

For the past few weeks, Tom has been doing promo for his new and highly anticipated film Cherry. While trying to balance filming Spider-Man 3 and doing promo, you guys barely had time to spend together. Not that it bothered you; you understood how hectic his job could get, so you weren’t phased by the back to back Zoom interviews or how he’d join you in bed late at night after a long day on set.

The lost time between the both of you must’ve finally caught up on Tom as he woke up clingier than usual. The moment his eyes fluttered open he felt the need to touch you, to have his skin pressed up against yours, and to feel the warmth that radiated off your body. He just wanted to have you near him—the reason to why he begged you to spend the entire day with him.

You should have been listening to Tom talking passionately about his film, but your mind drifted off to the gutter. Only a few feet away from you was your boyfriend sitting behind a desk, wearing a black shirt, topped with a black blazer, pantless. The only garments covering his bottom half were his boxers and socks, leaving his thighs bare and tempting to your eyes. You tried to avoid looking at them, forcing your attention to focus on the words coming out his mouth, but your eyes were constantly drifting down to his thighs. From the way Tom rubbed his rough hands on them to the way they flexed whenever he moved was starting to cause a pool of arousal to form in your panties.

Tom’s voice faded into the background as you stared blankly at his thighs, imagining how the smooth skin would feel against your wet cunt. You bit your lip, mind wandering to the thought of Tom flexing his thigh while you grinded your hips against him. The ideas in your head caused you to unconsciously squeeze your thighs together. Trying to relieve yourself of the hot tension forming in your body. Though, the action doesn’t go unnoticed by your boyfriend, who had a small smirk on his face after catching you in the corner of his eyes.

A few more minutes pass and he was already finishing up his interview with Jimmy. Though you didn’t notice since your attention was still fixated on his sculpted thighs. That and you were constantly adjusting yourself in your seat because of how embarrassingly wet your panties were getting. You attempted to distract yourself with your phone and scrolled mindlessly through Instagram. You weren’t even looking at the posts, just randomly double tapping and scrolling past them. Much to your dismay, your ways of distraction failed once again. Instead of focusing on your screen, your eyes zeroed in on Tom’s legs.

“You know darling, I could practically feel your eyes burning holes into my thighs.” He suddenly teased you. You felt the heat rush to your face as you hid behind your phone screen.

“I’m not looking at your thighs.” You pathetically lied, turning your phone off, and crossing your arms. His tired but rich chocolate colored eyes capture yours. There was a hint of playfulness mixed with lust in them. He wasn’t oblivious, he could feel the tension growing in the room.

Tom tilts his head to the side, “Then why were you consistently staring at my legs?” He crossed his legs making his thighs momentarily flex again.

“I was looking at your socks.”

“What about my socks?” He quirked a brow at you.

“They’re dirty.” You shrugged.

“Really? But my socks are down there, not up here.” He cheekily quipped, motioning to his lap. You whined and threw your head back against the couch, shoving a pillow to your face in the process.

“Busted.” Tom sang huskily before pulling his bottom lip in between his teeth. He scanned your figure on the couch, eyes lingering on the way your legs were still clenched together.

“C’mere.” His voice was an octave lower, catching your attention. You pull the pillow off your face and see him gazing down at you from his seat, legs spread out in front of him. You toss your phone on the couch and walk towards him. His hands reach out for you midway, then settle to grasp on your hips.

“Mmm, baby, I can smell you.” His hands maneuver around your waist to squeeze your bum, emitting a light hum from you. You draped one of your arms around his shoulder while your hand cradled his jaw.

“Sorry, I can’t help it. Stupid thighs.” You mumble, the blush remaining on your cheeks.

“I want you to get off these stupid thighs. Use me, (y/n).” He encouraged, pulling you closer. You were about to agree but his attire reminded you that he had an interview in a few minutes.

“Wait—Tom, don’t you have another interview?” You asked him, shaking yourself out of your trance of arousal and pulling away from him. Tom whined, dragging you back towards his chest.

“In like 15 or 20 minutes, it’s enough time.” He reached behind you and slammed his laptop shut. He clumsily got out of his chair and led you to the loveseat behind him. He sat down and placed you in between his legs.

While he pulled your shorts and panties off you continued to question him, “Are you sure, Tommy?” He tapped your ankles, signaling for you to step out of your undergarments.

Tom stopped and looked up at you, “Yes, I’m sure. We have to be quick, but I just wanna feel you on me. We could continue when I’m done, promise.” He held your hands and pressed a kiss onto the back of them.

“Ok. But if you get in trouble, I swear—oh.” You were interrupted by Tom pressing a sloppy kiss above your mound. He placed your hands to rest on his shoulders and guided you to straddle his thigh. Once you were settled, he slipped two of his fingers between your legs to gather some of your wetness. He groaned at how soaked you were, leaving his fingers to slide through your folds a little bit longer. When he took them out, his fingers were covered in your glossy juices. He wiped some of your slick onto your lips before shoving his fingers into his mouth.

“Taste so fucking good, shit.” Tom growled, crashing his lips onto yours. The kiss was passionately messy; tongues dancing around each other while your teeth clashed from time to time, along with the taste of you on both your lips. Tom was the first to pull away still biting down on your bottom lip, “Come on, wanna feel you ride my thigh.” He scooted back into the seat, guiding your hips to settle down on his thigh. Your knees ached from kneeling on the couch’s material, but the burn you felt in your core urged you to put up a fight.

The moment you came into contact with his thigh felt like euphoria. Your eyes rolled back and a moan dragged out of your body. The pleasurable sensation of finally relieving the burn in your core rushed through your body. Another tension was building up in you, desperation. Grinding your hips down on him repeatedly made you obsessed with how he felt under you, making you desperate to get more.

You had no problem rocking against him, your wetness made it easy enough for you to simply slide your hips up and down the expanse of his firm thighs. Tom moaned at how soaked his skin felt while your folds rubbed up against him. Feeling you on him made him flex his thigh under you, causing you to ground your hips even harder against him. His thigh was lathered in your wetness.

“Fuck, Tom.” You whimper out, harshly squeezing his shoulders for leverage.

“You feel so good on me. You look so good using me to get off, such a pretty girl.” He praised you. He momentarily sat back to admire the way you looked at the moment. Your hair was a bit messy and you were wearing one of his shirts, which was rudely blocking his view of you on him. His long fingers hook beneath the shirt and lift it up, giving him the perfect view of your cunt gliding on his thigh. His jaw clenched at the sight taking a mental picture.

Tom sat up on the couch, gathering your shirt to bunch up right above your breast. He dives into your chest, yanking down the cups of your bra to expose your boobs. He places wet and open mouthed kisses on them, giving them both the attention they needed. You were a moaning mess above him, enjoying the way his tongue swirled around your nipples. When a dark red mark appeared on your skin he trailed the kisses up to your neck until he reached the special spot below your ear. He started off with light kisses before sinking his teeth down on your soft skin. The bite only spurred you on, hips moving faster against him.

While his mouth worked on marking your neck, his leg that you were on moved to meet your hips. The motion made your clit graze against him, forming whines to bubble out your throat. You fucked yourself harder on his thigh, making sure your clit was also rubbing against him as you chased your release. Tom felt they way your legs quivered around him, signing that you were almost there.

Tom’s arm wraps around your waist, helping you hold yourself up against him. With his other hand he gently cradles your face. His lips brush against yours and your noses occasionally bump into each other. A lopsided grin is on his face as he stares at you. He catches the way the corner of your lips quirk up for a matter of seconds until your features scrunch up in concentration again.

“You’re doing such a good job, darling. I could feel you clenching on me, you’re close aren’t you?” He latches your lips together, swallowing your moans. Your fingers pulled tighter on the ends of his hair, making him groan.

“Can’t mess the hair up.” He managed to get out. You grunted and tugged on his hair before your hands returned to his shoulders. Tom pecked your lips once more before leaning back into the couch. Without any warning, his hand lightly swated your clit. You yelped in surprise at the sudden contact. Tom only chuckled, earning him a slap to the chest and a glare from you.

“Sorry, sorry, I know we’re short on time.” He apologized and connected his thumb to your clit. The rough pad made tight circles around your bud. With the friction of his thigh against you and his thumb on your clit you were seeing stars. You were so out of it, only feeling the euphoric pleasures coursing through your senses. The quicker and sharper his circles got, the closer you felt to your relief.

“Just like that Tom, fuck. Keep going I’m close.” Your back arched. Tom shoved his head in between your breasts again, littering sloppy kisses on your chest.

“C’mon, cum on me, baby.” He urged you, holding your body flush against him. His head was tilted up at you, staring at the way your mouth was hung open in pleasure. He loved watching your face when you came, it drove him mad.

Your stomach tightens along with your legs that straddled him. You let out a mix of a shaky gasp and moan, feeling the knot in your stomach come undone. Tom threw his head back against the couch while watching you release on his thigh, your cum gushing out against him.

“Fuck.” He breathed out, eyes glued to your release. You let out pants as aftershocks from your release wracked your body. Tom was quick to guide your body against him, not caring that his clothes might wrinkle. He placed your head in the crook of his neck and pressed kisses along your face. His large hands stroke your back, helping you come down from your high. Laying against him, all he felt was you; from your heart rapidly beating against his chest to the feeling of you trying to steady your breathing.

“You alright?” He whispered against your hair. You tiredly nodded, giving yourself a moment to calm down.

“Yeah—just need a minute and I’ll get off of you.” You reply, tenderly kissing his collarbone. Tom whines tightening his grip around you, “I don’t want you to go.”

“I don’t either, but,” you reach over to tap the screen of his phone, “You’ve got eight minutes left till your next interview.”

You feel something firm poke against your leg, “How you ever wondered if you can cum in under eight minutes?” The sentence caught Tom off guard, making him raise a brow at you. You tilted your head south of his body, motioning to his dick.

Tom shifted his gaze between you and his hard on, “Wanna find out?”

Tom Holland + Character Tags:

*username with line through it does not work*

↳ @lovableparker @aprettyfleur @sunwardsss @dummiesshort @thotforcriminalminds @cuddlykoala101 @itstaskeen @whoslili @white-wolf1940 @tomsirishgirlx @roseke

General Tags:

↳ @quxxnxfhxll @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @thegirlwiththediary

[winter-soldier-vibes]

Burnout (Bucky x reader)

“Burnout”

Bucky x reader

Warnings: burnout, overworked, mental breakdown/panic attack

Word count: 3377

A/N: Take care of yourself, burnout is real and you CAN get sick. Trust me. I’m always here if you wanna talk to someone about anything or want another friend. Stay strong <3

Includes: Lyrics from the song “Weight of the World” by Citizen Soldier

Tags: @buckys2thicc @thatfangirl42 @thundering-barnes @abitgryffindorky @ladyfallonavenger

---------

These nights were becoming more common. And that wasn’t a good thing.

You sat at your desk surrounded by papers, empty cans of energy drinks, and a bright laptop screen. You held your head in your hands and you tried to keep your eyes awake, turning the screen brightness higher. 

1:46 AM

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, trying to rub the sleep out of them. You took your hands away and looked back at the screen briefly before covering your face again. 

You lived with the Avengers and were a huge asset to the team. Not only were you enhanced with powers, but you were incredibly intelligent. That being the case, you worked with Tony and Bruce in the lab either developing new ideas or fixing suits after missions. As well as being on the mission yourself. Therefore you trained early every morning with Steve and Bucky. You also did most of the mission reports, switching off with Steve once and a while.

Most nights you could be found either working through paperwork, down in the lab working into the morning with Tony, or researching for new projects in said lab. You never meant to stay up as late as you did, but no matter how hard you worked, more work kept appearing. Every 10 PM soon turned into 2 AM, and you could never quite catch a break. You had turned to caffeine not long ago, quickly using it as a crutch to supplement sleep. 

You had just gotten back from a long mission with the team, and were incredibly sore. Steve hadn’t gone on this mission, leaving you to finish the report. Add to that, Tony wanted to make a better suit for Peter, and Sam’s wings were busted. Tony was working on Peter’s suit, wanting to make it perfect, leaving you with fixing the wings for Sam. 

You decided to work on Sam’s Falcon suit first, seeing that you lived on Planet Earth and he could be scheduled for another mission at any time. What seemed to be superficial damage turned out to be extensive, and required much more repairing that you had anticipated. What you had planned to be a 2 hour process had turned into just over a day of work in the lab. 

Not wanting to lose your place and needing a distraction from the soreness, you had worked for hours straight, only breaking to relieve yourself every so often. You were exhausted and ready to fall asleep when you laid back in your bed. Only to check your notifications and see an email from Fury requesting the mission report immediately.

Sent hours ago.

Which led you to where you were now. You hadn’t slept in almost 48 hours, sore from the mission, with a tedious mission report to fill out. Taking a deep breath, you removed your hands from your face.

 2:07 AM.

You groaned, but brought your hands back to the keyboard and began typing. The words were blurring together and you shook your head a few times trying to stay awake. Somehow, you finished the report and sent it off and looked at the time again.

3:13 AM

You rubbed your temples before climbing back into your bed, sighing out as your eyes filled with tears. It wasn’t uncommon for you to go to bed this late/early. Lately Tony had been coming up with more ideas and would ask you to help. Since Tony works through most of the night, you had learned to do the same. You don’t remember the last time you had more than 3 or 4 hours of sleep. 

You were off the hook for training for a few days, due to having just gotten back from a mission. And while you had been hesitant at first, you were grateful now that you had a bit more time to sleep. Despite the caffeine you had consumed to stay awake, you were absolutely exhausted. Tears threatened to fall from your eyes but you tried to breathe through it. You just wanted a break but couldn’t seem to catch one. 

You curled into yourself as your stomach began to growl. ‘When was the last time I ate?’ you thought. Not that it mattered, there was nothing that could bring you out of your bed at that moment. You drifted off to sleep.

-----

You woke up to your phone chiming and groaned, picking it up to see what was so important. Your eyes find the top message, informing you that the mission report you had submitted was incomplete. You jolted out of bed and over to your desk to begin working on the report again, biting back tears of embarrassment at such a ridiculous error on your part. How could you have been so tired that you missed an entire section of a report?

You cracked open another energy drink that you kept in your room and began guzzling it. You were still in the same clothes as the day before and you hadn’t taken your hair down from it’s bun in days. Your stomach grumbled but you answered it with more of the energy drink. You would deal with hunger later. This was much more important. 

Your head was pounding and you could barely sit up straight. You had barely gotten a few hours of sleep and somehow felt more tired than you had before it. Your sight became more blurry as it became harder to suppress the tears. You were angry at yourself, why couldn’t you just get this one fucking thing done?

You worked through the section quickly, or at least, you tried to. You kept having to reread sections, not comprehending what the words were saying anymore. You rubbed your eyes aggressively and shook your head, trying to concentrate. You reached to grab the energy drink again, but instead accidentally spilled it all over yourself. Letting out a “Fuck!” as you stood up, something inside you snapped. 

You threw the can across the room, not caring how much was left inside of it. You flipped your chair and crumbled the miscellaneous papers on your desk. You let out a scream of frustration, and threw a picture frame across the room. After which, you bent over and placed your hands on your knees, small sobs beginning to wrack your body. You were just so tired, you had work to do, but you couldn’t do it no matter how simple it was. 

You walked around the mess and into your bathroom, closing the door. You turned on the shower and got in, not even bothering to take off your clothes or wait for it to warm up. You didn’t care. You couldn’t. You sank to the floor, tears streaming down your face as the shower began to warm. You couldn’t bring yourself together, every time you tried to calm down a new wave of frustration and exhaustion would hit you and you would start crying all over again. You held your hand to your chest, trying to catch your breath a little, not having much success. You were gasping for air, it felt like you were breathing fire. Unable to fight it anymore, you started choking out lyrics to one of your go-to sad songs.

Feel the weight of the world over me tonight.

If I break, if I break down this time

You took a shaky breath and choked out the next line

Hope you know I tried…

Meanwhile, Bucky had been thinking about you. The two of you were very close, you had been ever since Steve had introduced you to him. He was in awe of how you could both rival Tony in the lab and himself in the training room. That and how much you did for others. You had helped him a lot when Bucky had first come to the compound. And he was very grateful.

He knew you had gotten back from a mission a few days ago, and were probably exhausted. From what he had heard it had been a brutal mission. However, in the past, you had usually gotten back into the routine of daily life pretty quickly. He hasn’t so much as seen you since you got back. 

He couldn’t help but worry.

He decided to go to your room to check on you, seeing as it was later in the morning and you had had a chance to sleep. Little did he know, you hadn’t. When he got to your door he knocked and waited for a response. He was met with nothing. However, with his enhanced hearing, he heard muffled singing from inside. He couldn’t hear the words, but you sounded in pain. 

My mind’s such a mess, I can’t handle it, I’m at the end of my rope.

Worried, he let himself in and took in the state of the room. It was completely trashed, shattered glass, overturned furniture, crumbled papers. He heard the shower running and could hear your cries through the lyrics

My neck is breaking body shaking

Sometimes it’s so hard to breathe

But no one sees it follows me i always end up underneath

The weight of the world…

You began coughing, still gasping for air and holding your chest. Bucky came over to the bathroom door and opened it, concerned you were in pain. You were sitting on the floor, drenched and shaking. Steam filled the room, fogging up the mirrors. He came over to you, trying to get your attention but you couldn’t hear him. Worried, he stepped into the shower as well, swearing as it burned his skin. He crouched down in front of you and took your face in his hands, trying to guide your face to his.

“Y/n, y/n can you hear me? Can you look at me?” he said. 

Coming back to your senses slightly, you tried to figure out who was in front of you. You grabbed one of his forearms and focused your eyes, still struggling to breathe. You found Bucky’s blue eyes looking back at you.

Bucky, knowing you were now aware of his presence, reached to turn off the water while still maintaining eye contact. You were coughing, choking on each breath, still shaking and crying. Bucky had never seen you like this. You tried looking around again, forgetting briefly where you were and what had happened, breath picking up again in confusion.  “Hey, hey, y/n? I need you to keep your eyes on me okay?”

“It...hurts..” you gasped out, feeling like fire filled your lungs. Your arms had gone numb and in the absence of the warm water your wet body was now shivering from both the cold and anxiety. 

Bucky quickly looked you up and down. “What hurts, y/n?” he said calmly but firmly even though he was freaking out internally.

Fresh tears spilled out of your eyes. You tried to talk but couldn’t speak through your panic. You rubbed your chest, willing your heart to slow down but it wouldn’t. 

Bucky, still keeping his eyes locked on yours, said “Listen, y/n, I need you to try and breathe with me slowly, okay? Like this,” he breathed in deeply and let it out slowly. You tried to copy him and after a few breaths lost your pace. You shook your head. “I can’t…. I...I…”

. “It’s okay, you’re okay, you’re safe y/n. Try again, I’m right here okay? Look at me.” he said, still breathing deeply. Eventually, you were able to find a rhythm and catch your breath, becoming aware of the situation and everything that had happened. Now able to breathe, you felt new tears of shame rush to your eyes. There were a few moments of silence

“What happened?” Bucky asked, concern etched on his face. 

You let out a small sob and covered your face, and Bucky’s heart shattered. He had never seen anyone this upset, nevermind you. You had always been so strong, energetic, joyful. And here you were, soaking wet and shaking on the shower floor. What the hell had happened to you? 

He stood up and got out of the shower, also soaked, but he didn’t care about that right now. He leaned down and put one arm behind your back and the other looped under your knees and he picked you up. He placed you down on the vanity and stood in front of you. He carefully took your wrists and pulled them away from your face, you looking at him through bloodshot eyes. 

“You - you’re soaked,” you said, both out of shock and in an attempt to deflect the attention from you.

“Wh- I mean, yeah, so are you,” Bucky said. “Y/n, can you tell me what happened?”

You looked down at your hands and swallowed thickly, embarrassed. “I, uh…” you cleared your throat. What had happened? You closed your eyes and rubbed your head. 

The shower

The song

Your room

The report

The energy drink

Oh fuck

You sighed out “Shit, I just…” again, shame began to overtake you. “It’s stupid, forget about it,” you said, trying to stand up. 

Bucky stopped you, confused. “Y/n, whatever just happened, that…  That’s not caused by something stupid. I’ve never seen you so upset before. Hell I’ve never seen anyone so upset before. But I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong.”

“Really, Buck, I’m fine,” you said.

“Then why are you trying not to cry?”

You sighed. There was no other way out of this. You looked at him and said, “I was just done.” You looked back down at your hands, and continued trying to keep the waiver out of your voice. “I just, um...After the mission I had to fix Sam’s wings, and it took me longer than I expected. And then I still had the mission report which took me all of last night and then I found out that I had missed an entire section. And I got mad that I couldn’t focus or stay awake and I just kind of...broke.”

As you looked back at him, face not as red, he could see how tired you seemed. “Are you sleeping?”

“I mean, a little bit it’s not like I’ve been awake this whole time but -”

“Y/n.”

You looked at him. “A couple of hours a night at most,” you said quietly. 

Bucky nodded sadly. “Anything else?”

You opened and closed your mouth a few times. “I mean it’s not a big deal -”

“What I just saw was a big deal,” Bucky said gently.

“I haven’t really made time to eat either,” you tried to laugh it off a little. “Just kind of chugged energy drinks. But then I spilled it all over myself, so...bad idea I guess.”

Bucky wasn’t laughing. But he wasn’t angry either. He was, but not at you, never at you.

“I’m sorry,” you said. 

“Why didn’t you say anything? The days off after missions are there for rest.”

You shrugged. “I had important shit to do.” 

“Well you’re pretty important shit too,” he said a little more firmly, but still not angrily. He sighed. “But really, if you’re not okay then nothing gets done. You’re going to get sick if you keep doing this to yourself. When was the last time you had more than a few hours of sleep?”

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. 

He sighed once again. “I’m sorry,” you said, fearful that he was angry with you.

“No, it’s not your fault I just…” he looked away for a second before looking back at you. “I don’t like seeing you like this. I don’t want you pushing yourself so hard and getting hurt.”

You sighed sadly and rubbed your eyes. “Every day I tell myself it’s the last day I’ll stay up so late. I always tell myself I’ll eat after my project is done. But no matter how hard I work there’s just more and more work that needs to get done. And I can’t keep up. I feel like I’m drowning. But no matter how much I hate it I...I always come last,” you said. 

“You shouldn’t have to,” Bucky said.

After a few moments of silence, Bucky pulled you in for a hug, you still sitting on the counter. You closed your eyes against his chest and sighed out, feeling good finally getting all of that off of your chest. 

“You’re taking the next few days off.” he said. 

You pulled back and looked at him. “But the report -”

“Is mostly done and Steve can get the rest of the information from Sam.” Bucky finished for you.

“But -”

“Nope. There is not a single thing you could say right now that is going to prevent me from making sure you take care of yourself for a few days.” he said, and you knew he was right. Nodding, he pulled you back in for a hug. 

“We should get out of these clothes.” you said softly, shivering a little. 

Bucky laughed a little. “Yeah, we really should.” 

You moved to stand up from the counter, still a little weak as you leaned on Bucky a little. You walked slowly out to your room and were met with the mess you created earlier. “Shit,” you said, taking in the broken glass and furniture.

Bucky turned you around and said “Do you want to come to my room? We can deal with this some other time.”

You simply nodded, stepping around the broken shards of glass and to the hallway. Bucky’s room wasn’t far from yours, and luckily no one was in the hallways to comment on how both of you were in wet clothes. Once in his room, he closed the door after you and went to his dresser. He pulled out a pair of sweats and one of his T-shirts and handed them to you. “They might be a little big but -”

“Thank you,” you said, taking the clothes and heading to his bathroom. You closed the door and peeled your current outfit off of you. You found a spare towel and dried off the rest of you, and pulled on Bucky’s clothes. They were huge on you, but you didn’t mind. You took your hair down and redid your bun before splashing some cold water on your face. Deeming you looked more presentable, you came back out and saw that Bucky had also changed. Smiling warmly, he pointed to the bed. 

“So you are going to lie down, and I am going to go make you some food. I’ll be right back.”

You started shaking your head. “No, it’s okay, you don’t have -”

He raised his eyebrows, still pointing to the bed. Swallowing a laugh, you nodded and sat down on the bed. Bucky then left the room and returned a few minutes later with a sandwich. After you had eaten it, you laid back in the bed, melting into the softness of the mattress. You faced away from Bucky, who was sitting next to you on his phone. He was (slowly)  texting Steve to finish your report, which took very little convincing. 

After a few minutes, you asked “Can you lay down with me?”

Bucky smiled a little to himself. “Sure, doll,” he said, and he moved to lie down next to you. Unsure of what exactly you wanted, he gave you space. Not soon after, you turned over and scooted closer to his side. After a moment of shock from Bucky, you asked “Is this okay?” Readjusting a little, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer. “Yeah, is this okay?” he asked in return.  You merely hummed in approval, already feeling safer in his warm embrace. He let out a small laugh. “Try to get some rest, y/n. I’ll be here whenever you wake up.”

It was the most peaceful sleep you had ever had.

[nighthaikyuu]

Hi! I was wondering if I could request akaashi, iwa, and/or atsumu kissing their best friend, please and thank you💕 I really liked the oikawa, kuroo and bokuto one!

— synopsis:  haikyuu boys x y/n; kissing their best-friend 

— characters included: akaashi, iwaizumi, & atsumu 

— genre: soft boi hours! fluff! lil angst! 

— author’s note: while the previous one was based off the tiktok, this one will be just general made-up plots to keep things different! (hope that’s okay!) 

akaashi

when you found out akaashi liked someone, you experienced your first heartbreak. 

you knew falling in love with your best-friend was all on you, but you couldn’t help but just hope that maybe one day he would return your feelings. 

but yet here you were, hopes and heart shattered. 

you almost wanted to breakdown the moment he told you, but you held it out as much as possible, your tears falling only once you were away from him. 

“y/n, I wanna tell you something...” he started slowly as he held the volleyball in his hand tightly. 

chuckling softly, you removed his hands from the ball, taking it from him, “you’re going to bust this if you hold it any tighter.” 

blinking, he stared at his empty hands before laughing lightly. taking a deep breath, he turned to look at you, a soft smile on his face. 

“I like someone.” 

this time it was you whose grip tightened on the volleyball. 

unsure if you heard him right, you stammered, “y-you what?” 

scratching the back of his head, he repeated shyly, “I said I like someone.”

“oh.” you responded, voice lower than a whisper. 

you quickly realized just how dejected you sounded, and if anything, that was the exact opposite of how you should’ve sounded. 

throwing on a bright smile on your face, you giggled, “ooh keiji has a crush~” you teased lightly. 

flushing, he laughed, “yea, I guess you could call it that.” 

“who is it?” you asked almost immediately, the curiosity getting the better of you. 

at that, akaashi stiffened. chuckling nervously, he averted his gaze, “um, it’s someone you know.” 

since that day, akaashi had never told you who his special someone was. you didn’t know why he was hiding it from you, after all it was better to peel the bandaid off completely rather than bit by bit like he was doing to you these last few weeks. 

it started with him telling you how amazing she was. how she was the funniest person he knew, how strong-minded she was and how beautiful she always was to him. 

then it went on to how she made him feel. how she always made his day, how he felt butterflies whenever she would touch him and how he just wants to hold her hand in his. 

and just like that, week by week, akaashi would talk about nothing but her. 

to make things worse, it appeared that most of the volleyball team knew. every day at volleyball practice you would hear their teasing remarks, bokuto’s being the loudest. and in response, his cheeks would flush in embarrassment, the sight making you only hurt more. 

should you quit? you wondered to yourself. it was hard enough on you to hear akaashi telling you his feelings, but it was a whole other thing having several people support him, reminding you every single second of every day that your best friend had fallen for someone else. 

you really loved being fukurodani’s volleyball manager. after all, it was one of the biggest excuses for you to spend more time with akaashi. but even aside from that, you made a lot of great friendships and memories with the team. 

but you really didn’t know if you could go like this anymore. 

sighing, you pulled your bag closer to you as you walked home with akaashi. 

“what are you thinking about?” 

shaking your head, you mumbled, “nothing important really.”

brows furrowing together, he asked, “mm you sure? you looked super serious for a second.” 

“dunno, just thinking about quitting being manager.” you muttered, before realizing what you had just confessed. shit. you didn't know how you were going to get out of this one. 

stopping in his tracks, akaashi’s eyes widened in surprise, “w-wait, you’re thinking of doing what?” 

muttering a soft damn it under your breath, you quickly threw on a nonchalant facade. giving him a shrug, you said casually, “it’s not that big of a deal keiji, there’s still the others.” 

turning back around, you started to walk again while akaashi stood there, fumbling for words. catching back up to you, he pressed, “but why? I thought you loved being manager?” 

biting the inside of your cheek, you knew he was right but you had to come up with some excuse, something to throw him off at least for now, “I just, school’s getting pretty busy—” 

“is that really it?” he interrupted, his voice slightly turning accusatory. 

your eyes narrowed at him, “what does that mean?” 

out of the both of you, akaashi was always the calm one. but today it was almost like you were seeing another version of him. where his eyes shook slightly, filled with an emotion that you couldn’t identify, his hands bundled into tight fists at his sides. 

“i just—” akaashi started, struggling to find the right words to say, “i feel like you’re not telling me something y/n. you’ve been off the last couple of weeks and I don’t know why—” 

you let out a bitter chuckle. 

“you’re kidding right?” 

if your reaction wasn’t enough to shut akaashi up, the words that followed definitely was. he watched as you shut your eyes tightly, your grip on your bag tightening, voice trembling, “I just, I can't do this anymore keiji.” 

akaashi’s eyes softened; moving closer towards you, he started to reach for your hand when you flinched away, the motion causing akaashi to blink in surprise. 

“d-don’t.” you whispered, blinking back the tears. “you won’t understand keiji. you won’t get what I feel and there’s no point in me telling you so please, just don’t ask me why.” 

“y/n, you can’t shut me out without even giving me a chance.” he reasoned softly to which you shook your head. 

“no, you don’t get it. e-everything will change and I just, I can’t handle that—” 

“I promise, nothing will change.” akaashi started, “you’ll always be my best friend—” 

“I don’t want to be your best friend anymore!” you finally exploded, the word starting to make you feel sick. your voice echoed through the empty street, each word coming back to haunt you when you realized what you had finally done. 

but there was no going back. 

“I want to be more than that...” you trailed off in a weak whisper. sniffling, you realized you had been crying without even knowing. brushing your cheek with the sleeve of your sweater, you added, “b-but you like someone else and that’s not your fault, it’s all mine. so just, give me some time keiji. i-i’m sorry.” you finally choked out before turning around on your heel and walking away quickly, the tears only falling faster at this point. 

shit shit shit shit

just then you felt something tug at your wrist, spinning you around as a slight yelp escaped your mouth. finding yourself being pulled towards Akaashi your faces just millimeters apart, you gasped, “keiji—!?” 

without uttering another word, akaashi closed the distance between the two of you as he grabbed your waist, pulling your frame flush against him as his lips enveloped yours in a soft kiss. his other hand cupped the back of your neck, his long fingers threading themselves into your hair as he pressed his lips tightly against yours. 

you felt like you were dreaming. 

before you could comprehend what was happening, akaashi had pulled away, pressing his forehead against yours as you watched his chest raise up and down with every breath. 

“keiji...” you whispered softly. 

“it was you.” he confessed quietly, “it was you, this whole time.” 

blinking furiously, you stared at your best friend as you slowly registered his words, “w-what, what do you mean?” 

lips quirking up into an embarrassed smile, he grinned, “the girl i said i liked? it was you y/n...that’s why i didn’t tell you who it was.” 

"oh.” you said as your cheeks flamed up in embarrassment, a shy smile appearing on your face, “it was me?” 

cupping your face in both his hands, he pressed another kiss to your lips before saying, “yes, it was you. it always has been.” 

as he gazed at you in complete adoration, you laughed softly to yourself, shaking your head in wonder. you were so preoccupied with the idea that the person akaashi liked wasn’t you, you didn’t even pay attention to all the signs and signals he had been giving trying to tell you that it was you. 

oh, how the world worked. 

iwaizumi

“iwaaaaa.”

“no.”

“hajiiiii.”

“no.”

“hajime! come on!” 

turning around to look at you, he rolled his eyes at you before saying the same word he had been for the last several minutes, “no.” 

crossing your arms across your chest with a slight huff, you retorted, “but why not?! it’s really that not that big of a deal, you’re just my best friend.” 

snorting, he turned his attention back to his laptop, “what kind of best-friends do you see kissing each other y/n?” 

“you make it sound crude, it’s not like I’m asking you to be my fuck buddy.” you grumbled, “I just said to teach me how to kiss, just once. It’s literally driving me crazy that I haven’t kissed anyone yet and then there’s the absolute fear of kissing someone and then realizing I suck and being utterly embarrassed for the rest of my life.” 

“then just find someone who hasn’t had their first kiss either. bam, both of you suck.” 

your narrowed your eyes at him, “do you have a list of men who haven’t had their first kiss? I can barely find one at this stupid university who has yet to sleep with someone, find someone who hasn’t kissed yet?! impossible.” 

iwaizumi chuckled softly under his breath as he heard you continue to grumble about how you were going to die alone since you would be too afraid to get intimate with anyone since you “sucked” at it. 

did he want to kiss you? always. 

but did he expect this to be the way? definitely not. 

he knew exactly how this would go, there was no way of it happening any other way. iwaizumi was always better at showing how he felt through actions than words, and after being best friends with you for so long, he knew you’d be able to tell the instant his lips met yours, just how fucking in love he was with you. 

“hajimeeeee.” you started to whine again, interrupting his thoughts. 

sighing, he turned around on his chair so that he was completely facing you. 

his first mistake. 

there you sat cross legged, plush lips pulled together in a small pout as you  stared at him with your soft wide eyes. 

“please haji...” you urge softer this time, a hint of desperation laced within your voice.

iwaizumi’s grip on his jeans tightened. the way you were looking at him was enough to set him off as his heart fluttered at the sound of his name from your lips. 

“you do realize you’re still going to be kissing me right?” he pointed out, “you're okay with that? ” 

nodding quickly, a smile quickly appeared onto your face. was he being convinced? you waved your hand about nonchalantly, “totally okay, you’re my best-friend, I trust you.” 

best friend, iwaizumi winced. the word stung a little more than usual today. 

after a while, iwaizumi finally said with a sigh, “look y/n, I don’t know...” 

your smile quickly dropped. 

“alright, it’s fine.” you said casually, although Iwaizumi could clearly hear the disappointment in your voice. getting up from his bed, you grabbed your bag from beside you and slung it over your shoulder. 

“hey, do you where tooru is?” you asked as you made your way towards his door. 

at the sound of his best friend’s name, iwaizumi’s ears perked up. brows furrowed together, he looked at you in slight curiosity as a bad feeling erupted in his stomach, “practice, why?” 

shrugging, you said, “i'll just go ask him instead, i’m sure he’ll do it.” 

oh, hell no.

before he could even think through his actions, iwaizumi pushed himself off of his chair and found himself reaching past you and closing the door with a thud! his arms caged you as you turned around and stared at him in complete shock, eyes wide and lips parted. 

chest rising up and down, he stared down at you, eyes swimming with an emotion you had never seen before. your own heart started hammering in your chest at the sudden change in proximity as you could feel iwaizumi’s breath fan your flushed cheeks. 

“h-hajime?” you stuttered out, blinking furiously as the boy simply stared at you. iwaizumi felt his brain completely short-circuit. this wasn’t like him at all. he was always the cool-headed one, whether it was keeping oikawa in check or being the supportive one for his friends. but with you, you had always managed to bring out parts of him he never knew existed. 

standing there, his gaze dropped down to your lips; it was as if being this close to you activated a magnetic field that he was unable to escape. leaning in towards you, his forehead rested against yours before he mumbled lowly, “a kiss is what you wanted right? then here.” 

slipping a hand beneath your jaw, his fingers tilted your face upward before closing the gap and pressing his lips to yours. 

what started as a butterfly touch, slightly nervous and afraid, quickly changed as iwaizumi pressed closer, deepening the kiss. feeling your back hit the door, your eyes fluttered to a close as you found yourself melting into his embrace, sighing against his lips as you kissed him back. 

iwaizumi’s grip on you tightened. he knew he should stop now before things got out of hand. before you caught on. before you realized how much this kiss meant to him. 

teeth tugging at your bottom lip, iwaizumi pulled away reluctantly, resting his forehead against yours. eyes fluttering open, he waited for your eyes to open and when they did, he felt his entire world stop. 

upon meeting his gaze, your eyes softened. you didn’t know what you expected when you asked iwaizumi to kiss you. while you were serious about wanting to experience kissing, you couldn’t help but admit that you always wanted your first to be iwaizumi. 

“w-was i okay?” you murmured softly. 

nodding, he chuckled softly, “yea, you were perfect.” 

at his words, your grip on his shirt tightened. a sudden surge of courage coursed through your body when you leaned closer towards him and added, “i think i need more practice.” before crashing your lips onto his. 

atsumu

“wow, they should make a rule to not let short people work at libraries. you’d need a stool everywhere you went.” atsumu snorted as he watched you try putting a book away on the highest shelf.

it was a friday afternoon and you and atsumu were both at your local library, volunteering after school.

granted you have to drag him there every week but hey, community service was important to you. 

turning around to shoot him a glare, you retorted, crossing your arms, “for your information, I am perfectly capable of doing this.

chuckling softly, atsumu raised a brow, lips twitching, “Oh? Really now??

letting out a huff, you turned back around, standing on your toes as you tried to reach the top, even holding on to the shelf as you balanced yourself. watching you from behind, atsumu simply shook his head and chuckled, finding your stubbornness absolutely freaking adorable. (even though he'd never tell you that)

moving behind you, his hand shot up past yours as he whispered, “just let me do it.” his breath fanning the back of your neck. as he took the book from your hand, his fingers grazed yours ever-so-slightly, enough to send your heart into a frenzy.

get it together y/n! you told yourself.

somewhere along the line, the boundary of friendship between you and atsumu started to blur. nearly everyone around you could see the way both of you slowly fell for each other.

but of course neither of you could, choosing to remain silent in fear of ruining your childhood friendship.

however you weren’t about to simply give up as you turned around to retort back, but instead, it was a decision you were quick to regret. your heart suddenly skipped a beat when it noticed the distance between the two of you was almost nonexistent. and if that wasn’t enough, the way atsumu was smirking at from above as you were completely backed up against the bookshelf, had you holding your breath.

waving the book in the air, a good couple feet above you, atsumu teased, “here, all you have to do is reach for it y/n”

for a split second, you forgot the position in which you were in, a sudden drive of competitiveness within you focusing on only getting the book atsumu dangled above you. 

pouting, you complained, “atsumu—! just give it to me!” as atsumu laughed at the concentrated look on your face as you endlessly tried grabbing at the air above you.

reaching upwards one last  time, pushing yourself up onto the very tip of your toes, you quickly realized you made a mistake when a mini yelp escaped your lips, your hands clutching the thing nearest to you.

which ended up being?

you guessed it.

atsumu. 

wide-eyed, your hands tightened around atsumu’s shirt as you quickly regained your balance. looking up nervously, you saw atsumu’s smirk slowly disappear as it turned into a nervous smile, his eyes gazing down at you with a look that was indescribable. blinking, you found yourself staring at atsumu’s lips, his soft red lips that just seemed oh-so-inviting, yet the thought of them on you had you flushing scarlet red.

“y/n?” atsumu’s voice rasped softly through the thick air, your grip on him tightening as the way his name rolled of his lips had your knees going weak.

but before you could respond, all you could feel was the softness of his nose brushing against yours, his hands that slowly cradled your waist as he pulled you closer into his grasp, and finally his lips following right after. his lips soft as clouds enveloped yours gently, nervously, tenderly, as his mouth caressed yours while you stood there stunned, unable to move as much as an inch.

sensing the hesitation in you, atsumu quickly pulled away, a look of panic flashing across his face. his cheeks went flush under the dim library light, as he looked at you, completely flustered, “fuck—I'm sorry, I don’t know what came over me—”

“I didn’t mind.” you suddenly squeaked, your eyes widening as the words slipped past your lips, making you look away in embarrassment, internally cringing.

you did not just say that y/n!!!

atsumu’s face mirrored yours, a look of surprise on them before the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, the very smile he would always give only you, the very smile that would always have your heart skipping a beat just at the sight of it.

tilting his head to the side, he raised his brow as he teased, “hmm, you didn’t mind?”

this time, it was your turn to be flustered as you hit his chest lightly, avoiding his teasing eyes as he beamed down at you. chuckling, his forehead fell upon yours, his lips yet again just centimeters away.

“then you wouldn’t mind if I did it again?” he whispered lowly, his eyes falling back down to your lips.

“i wouldn’t,” you said softly, finding yourself inching closer to him, slowly closing the gap. 

general taglist: @cinnamonrusts @postsfromthe6 @lady-snavely @02hhsailor@killuaking @rae0fsunshine1317 @sugawaaras @voids-universe @yams046@visaintes @simpforsaeko @honeybacon @kuroosbabie @verblueht @captain-janeway @misssugarless

character-specific taglist: @bluelightningxiii @ushiwakasvball @findityourselffsworld @konohasoftgf

[tenthgrove]

Can I request la squadra discovering their Fem!Teammate (who's like in her early 30s) is actually a mother, who joined Passione to pay for her 5 y.o daughter's hospital expenses, and she sometimes secretly goes to visit her and spend time with her.

Mother Mother

La Squadra x Reader, Platonic, SFW

Risotto has always kept an eye on his squadmates. It’s not that he would ever entertain the thought of one of them betraying him, even a relatively new member such as yourself. It’s just that with La Squadra’s status in Passione, he’s always feared one of you being used against him against your will.

It’s for this reason that Risotto became concerned by your twice monthly trips away from the base. Risotto doesn’t usually police his underlings’ activities, but the solemn look on your face each time you leave is cause for deep concern. Perhaps if you weren’t so secretive about your reasons, he wouldn’t have to go to the lengths of spying on you.

Risotto catches sight of your car as you pull into the hospital parking lot. There’s a definite weariness about you as you cross quickly towards the entrance. Risotto activates his invisibility and follows.

As you speak with the receptionist, Risotto is fixed on which department you will turn to. Are you sick and hiding it? Pregnant? But then, you surprise him. You turn to the children’s ward.

Risotto follows you past white corridors and waiting rooms. The nurses address you by name, he notices. It seems you’re a regular visitor. Finally, you arrive in a large ward of lonely pods. In each one lies a sick or injured child. He cannot ignore the fact that the one you head towards looks exactly like you.

As you caress the little girl’s cheek, Risotto comes to realise what’s been happening with you all these months. These trips, this sorrow, it was all for your child. A child Risotto didn’t even know you had.

Risotto leaves you be as you talk with your daughter. He feels guilty, undeserving of being present in this conversation. He’d always wondered how someone like you ended up in such a foul business as his, but if it’s really all for the sake of your daughter he doesn’t know if he can bare to keep ordering you on such dangerous tasks.

He can’t cut you out either, that could be detrimental for your sick offspring.

::::::::::::

Risotto goes home and seeks out Melone. It really ought to show the desperation of the situation he’s in that he’d fall on Melone for advice, but the strange man is the only person he can think of who might possibly guide his conscience on such a matter.

“Melone, a word please,” Risotto demands, swinging open the door of the other man’s bedroom. Melone hums and sits up from his nap, pulling off his night-mask to rub his eyes.

“If this is about the vibrator, I swear I didn’t mean to have it delivered here.”

“I- what- no. It isn’t about anything like that. I need your advice,” Risotto explains. Melone taps his fingers excitedly and crosses his legs.

“Oh, by all means go on then!”

“If, hypothetically, a person like us were to have… unavoidable other commitments, how would you say it should be tackled?” Risotto asks.

“Clarify.”

“Family commitments. Children, to be precise,” Risotto elaborates. Melone tilts his head.

“Capo, did you knock someone up?”

“No! Don’t be ridiculous. I haven’t done anything of the sort!” Risotto insists. “Alright I’ll clarify some more. How do you think I, as this team’s leader, should support such a person?”

“…Oh, I understand,” Melone assures him. “It’s (y/n) who’s pregnant, isn’t it?”

“I… forget it. (Y/n) isn’t pregnant you fool. I don’t know why I bothered with you,” Risotto laments, shutting the door.

Melone, meanwhile, is unconvinced. Risotto’s defensive behaviour suggests to him his theory regarding your pregnancy may be right after all. This isn’t something he can leave alone.

Melone’s foremost concern is your wellbeing. You’re his friend, and he wants to make sure that your parenthood (should you choose to go through with it) is as easy for you as possible. There’s one person in particular who comes to mind when it comes to raising children in the mob.

::::::::::::

“Prosciutto!” Melone calls, entering the second-in-command’s bedroom as he enjoys a cigarette out his open window.

“What do you want, and what did I tell you about barging in?”

“Please Prosciutto? This is important,” Melone begs. Prosciutto turns around.

“Alright, get it over with.”

“Didn’t you say once that you raised Pesci? I’m curious how it was,” Melone enquires.

“I hardly raised him,” Prosciutto rolls his eyes. “His mother was a good woman, and perfectly capable of raising him herself, money aside. My role was mostly as a financial supporter and an occasional babysitter when my step-mother needed a day off.”

“Oh, I see. But how was it with Passione? How did you balance your commitments between them and family?”

“I’m not a fan of this line of questioning, Melone, but I’ll indulge you. It was hard, very hard. They made me join when Pesci was 6 and back even then they constantly held his life over my head. I couldn’t spend too much time with him for fear of seeming disloyal, but at the same time I feared what would happen if I turned my back too long.”

“Christ,” Melone exclaims. “That’s rough. I never knew it was that bad for you.”

“Are you going to tell me what this is all for now?” Prosciutto asks, cocking an eyebrow. Melone swallows.

“Well… I think (y/n) might be pregnant.”

“…What?!”

::::::::::::

“So that’s why we’re suspicious,” Prosciutto finishes. Formaggio stares at them wide-eyed.

“Fucking hell. I knew something was up, but pregnancy?” he exclaims.

“It’s serious, we know,” Melone affirms. “Risotto isn’t letting up so we need you to help us be certain. I’ve got all your DNA on record-”

“Creepy.”

“Regardless, I’ve got hers up on the tracker now, and I need you to take Baby Face and follow the dot until you find its location. Baby Face doesn’t show place names. If you’re spotted, you can shrink down, so it’s better you go than us. Got it?”

“Yeah sure, I’ll go,” Formaggio agrees, picking up the laptop and standing. “I’ll ring if I find anything.”

::::::::::::

Sure enough, 30 minutes later, Formaggio finds something. A hospital to be precise. He looks down at his screen, and back at the hospital. Nope, everything still checks out. There is no possible way the dot could be anywhere other than inside that building when it’s that close. You’re in there. You are in the hospital. Pregnant, near certainly.

Formaggio’s had enough shocks for one day.

Turning tail, Formaggio half-runs back down the pavement towards the base. He fumbles for his phone and calls Prosciutto. No answer. Thinking fast (but not well) he hits the next number in the list. Illuso’s.

“Illuso hi. It’s Formaggio! She’s definitely at the hospital like we thought!”

“…Are you high?”

“Oh fuck, did you not know? (Y/n)’s pregnant and Mel just found out!” Formaggio fills him in. There’s a long pause.

“Holy fucking shit! Get back here now and tell me more!”

::::::::::::

Shortly after this, the sitting room of the La Squadra base finds itself crowded with Melone, Prosciutto, Formaggio and Illuso all in frenzied discussion.

“This is insane. We can’t have a baby! In the hitman squad!” Illuso decries.

“We’re not recruiting the kid!” Melone reminds him.

“That’s not the point!” Prosciutto protests. Formaggio puts his hands up in a show of peace

“Okay okay can everyone please-”

“I AM CALM!”

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU GUYS SHOUTING ABOUT?!” A voice calls. It’s Ghiaccio, standing in the hallway with Pesci at his side. The four men in the lounge look between each other nervously. Formaggio steps forwards.

“Ghiaccio, Pesci… let me fill you in on some things.”

::::::::::::

“RISOTTO WHY THE HELL DIDN’T YOU TELL US ABOUT THIS SOONER!”

Risotto Nero has seen a lot in his days, but never before has he had his office door kicked down by one of his own teammates, while in mid-conversation with two others.

“…Ghiaccio I beg your pardon.”

“(Y/n) was pregnant and you didn’t tell us about it?” Pesci says. “I was on a mission with her just last night! I could have done more to protect her if I’d known!”

“Risotto, I know you like to respect our privacy, but this is serious! If (y/n) is going to have this child then we need to have discussions about how it’s going to be feasible now. As a team,” Prosciutto argues. Risotto blinks.

“Capo, what on earth is going on?” Sorbet asks from by the window. Gelato, having clung onto him since the door fell, continues to look at the crowd in the doorway like… well, like they just busted the office door down.

Risotto takes a sip of his coffee, and sighs.

“I think you all may be under a severe misapprehension.”

::::::::::::

You get back to the base around 4pm, severely exhausted both emotionally and physically. Your daughter is stable, you’re assured, and clearly in better spirits than your last visit. With continued treatment, the doctor sees her out of the hospital and living comfortably with only minor supports within the year. But the bill to get her to that point will not be cheap. You honestly don’t know how you’ll manage it.

As you hang up your coat you are met with visitors. Sorbet and Gelato would like to speak with you, it seems.

“We’re glad to see you’re back. Could you follow us please? It won’t take a minute,” Gelato requests.

“Okay?” you agree, following them into the sitting room. Your entire team is present in dead silence, with Risotto at the helm in his usual chair. He is looking grave. This can’t be good.

Risotto gestures for you to sit down. You comply.

“(Y/n),” he begins. “We know about your daughter.”

Everything seems to go still. You cannot help it as tears well in your eyes. Before you know, you are crying in front of your teammates.

“We are willing to give some help,” Risotto announces. You look up from your tears. Did he just…

“We did some maths and we calculated that if we all pool together, we can pay half your daughter’s monthly bill every month for the immediate future, without any major changes to our lifestyle,” Sorbet announces. “We’re all happy to do that,” he adds, to a chorus of nods around the room.

“Additionally, we can look into getting her case transferred to a doctor on Passione’s payroll. It will be the same quality care or higher, and at a significant discount,” Melone suggests. Oh fuck, why didn’t you ever think of that?

“You would… you would all really do that for me?” you sob.

“And if it still isn’t enough, we’ll find a way. You can rely on us to help you, I swear it,” Risotto promises.

“Thank you… thank you all so much!”

[kosmosguk]

Bloody Artistry (M) ~🥀

pairing: celeb! kim taehyung x journalist! reader; minor pairings: jungkook x reader, coworker jimin x reader (platonic)

Word Count: 8K

Summary: when the scrutiny of fame becomes too much, perfect kim taehyung finds his peace within a lavish bathroom located two blocks away from the nearest club, a corpse in the bed with him. the fans have never questioned his behavior, not when his company is much too good at cleaning up his mess to not have done it before, but when a reporter with too many questions threatens to break the peace he’s established, he finds himself in a tango with the devil that he can’t bring himself to want to break.

[Warnings: MURDER, death, literally Taehyung being a sick bastard 25/8 (but only in fiction), company corruption, violence, yandere themes, mentions of noncon smut (intoxication, mentions of being drugged, fingering), blackmail, obsession, stalking. EVERYTHING that happens in this fic is FICTION; plz don’t go busting nuts for serial killers]

A/N: Thank you to yoongissugarmommy for requesting this! Part 1 of a short series starring Taehyung. Was going to do smth similar to Lineage with him, but this has been staying in my drafts for too long (like i wrote most of this before I even wrote Lineage, which is why my writing for part of this is a bit different from my current one), and I feel like going a bit modern now to take a break from Lineage (taking a bit to write pt. 4 just because it’s the end of the main story). Thank you for 2.9k followers! We’re only less than 50 away from 3K which is so wild to think about; kisses and hugs to everyone who’s supported my work! 

“Today, in the studio, we have our nation’s golden boy, the first love of all of our viewers: Kim Taehyung. Everyone, please clap your hands for him!’’

The MC turned to grin at the audience as the audience cheered loudly; her glossy black hair swept down and framed her face delicately in perfect shiny strands. The lipstick that coated her unnaturally wide smile was a deep shade of red, stark against her pale white skin. Dressed in her primly pressed suit, she looked lovely, like a blooming rose, but as she turned to face the guest star, his presence seemed to easily outshine her own.

“Thank you for having me. It’s an honor to have an interview here and have an opportunity to see all of my lovely fans,’’ Taehyung’s deep voice rang out as he smiled in his heart-swooning way, flashing pure-white teeth handsomely in a carefully maintained and practiced way that made all the fans, both in the studio and watching from beyond a screen, unable to resist letting out shrieks and screams.

“Now, Taehyung-ssi, with a record-breaking album that topped the charts as soon as it came out and a modelling gig that sells out magazines faster than before, how does it feel to have really made it? It must stress you out. Any tips on how to relax?’’

Taehyung leaned back slightly in his seat, his smile flashing coy for a brief second before settling into a rehearsed contemplative expression. He shrugged his shoulders, letting them drop out, as he made a soft hmm noise.

“How I relax? It’s not that big of a deal, really, but that’s an interesting question to ask, noona,’’ Taehyung widened his eyes slightly, looking ever so much like the golden boy persona he had stickered upon his reputation,’’ When I’m really, really stressed, I like to play with Tannie, my dog, and eats lots of yummy food that my mom sends to me when I get stressed. Also, my manager Namjoon is a good person to talk to when I’m really stressed; he always knows what to do and say.’’ Taehyung tapped the tip of his nose lightly, scrunching his face in an expression that made fans coo in adoration. “I also like to think of my fans and read all the letters they’ve sent me. I saved all of my letters from my beloved fans since my debut, and I like looking through them.’’

“Hey, Kim Namjoon, fucking hurry up,” Taehyung hissed into the cellphone pressed against his flawless cheek,” My shoes are going to get stained at this point. You know blood is a pain to properly get out of letter.’’

“Were you at least careful this time? We don’t want rumors getting out,” Namjoon’s voice crackled over the receiver, barely a hint of emotion in his voice. The beeping and honking of cars on his side of the phone call signaled the rush his manager was making towards his location.

Taehyung huffed in agitation, clicking his tongue sharply in annoyance as he skimmed his nails for any trace of dried blood. “Oh, come on, you think I really even care at this point? With the way the company takes care of everything, you’d think perfect ol’ me was…well perfect. But still, aren’t you guys way too good at this job? 7 girls and not even a peek from the public. Who else do you do this for, huh? Suga-sunbae? J-hope-sunbae?”

There was no reply. Taehyung threw his gaze over to the practically mangled body. Too bad, he thought to himself, she was really pretty this time. Red lipstick, silky black hair, wanted to become better acquainted with such a famous celebrity after her little interview, the whole fanatic spiel tied with a pretty bow of the title of an mc. She would’ve never thought that she’d go from being a bed-warmer to being so cold.

“I must be right then, huh? Suga-sunbae I can see, but J-Hope-sunbae…’’ Taehyung whistled lowly under his breath. “I thought you’d at least deny that. It’s the bright ones you gotta watch out for.’’

A dial noise was the only response. Did…Did this bastard hang up on him? Taehyung grimaced before three knocks rang on the door of the hotel suite, a signal from his asshole manager that Namjoon had finally arrived. Taehyung rolled back his shoulders, his joints crackling a little, and made sure all of his jewelry was perfectly back in place before he opened the door.

As Namjoon shuffled in with some of the staff members, Taehyung clasped his silver watch around his wrist with a soft click. He rolled his neck, trying to get the stiffness out of it, and exposed purple marks and bruises from the bites the now dead girl had given him when they had been fucking earlier.

Finally, his headache was gone.

You chugged down a cup of stale coffee and wiped the dribble of liquid that escaped the corner of your mouth as you clicked off some article about a newbie mc receiving slander after rumors of her making moves on a popular idol was exposed and disappearing to avoid the backlash. Squinting at your screen with dry eyes, you pursed your lips and snapped the laptop shut, pushing the device away from you in an agitated huff.

“Wbat’s got you in the gutters, huh? Let me guess…,’’ Park Jimin, your desk mate, rolled his chair over to your side, his glasses askew on his nose,” Ah, your favorite celebrity go into a dating scandal? Let me think, who was it that recently go into a scandal… Oh, is it that pretty boy from a new idol group?’’

You gave him the stink-eye, and your sigh this time was even louder.

“You’d think there’d be something more…interesting going with these celebrities that we could get our hands on. Too much money, lots of stress, yet no story that’ll really seize the audience by surprise, and don’t you dare say a dating scandal would do it. Boss’s been on my case for the whole week on writing an article to shock the audience and wants me to release a major headliner story in two weeks, or that asshole’ll fire me. Damn it, Kim Seokjin!” you hissed out before slamming your forehead onto the desk.

“Man, be careful with your volume; if he hears your tone, he’ll chew you out for another hour that you could be using to research. Boss Kim is picky like that with everyone because our company’s a small piece of seaweed in a system dominated by crustaceous predators.” Jimin poked you in the side jokingly, his plush lips spread in a wide smile that lit up his exhausted face. “Just think really hard; use that big brain of yours and focus on a celebrity. Come on, no one’s perfect, even that one super famous idol Kim Taehyung must have some flaws, so don’t sweat it.”

“That golden boy? Man, the whole nation’s pussy-whipped for him. He couldn’t possibly be anything bu—,’’ you sharply inhaled before pushing your seat back and rapidly swiveling to face Jimin,’’ Park. Fucking. Jimin. Oh my God, you’re a fucking genius! A whole career with not even a speck of dirt… Come on, even pure-faced idol Soyeon was caught with a scandal last month. There must be something on the nation’s golden boy!’’

Jimin’s eyes widened in surprise with your sudden outburst, and he opened his mouth to speak. “Be careful about the way you go when you try to fish out info on him. His company’s security isn’t something easy to get through, and not a single celeb from that company has gotten into a single scandal. No reporters been able to get any dirt from them…”

“Which means that…there’s something sketchy happening. Jimin, Jimin, have I told you I’m in love with you?’’

You turned around quickly in your chair, spinning in glee. Jimin dropped his mouth open to sputter something, and his cheeks were tinging red, but you weren’t looking at or even listening to Jimin at hat point, having already cracked open your laptop to furiously type Kim Taehyung into Naver. This was it! Your big break! Your motivation sky-rocketed, and you felt the first rush of energy that wasn’t fueled by some caffeinated drink in a long while.

Two hours later, you were ready to throw up.

All of the results were sickeningly the same bullshit, as what was expected for someone as beloved by the nation as Kim Taehyung was. You couldn’t fathom the amount of fancams and magazine spreads of him posing on some brown leather sofa and fact pieces—hell, you even knew what kind of socks the man liked—that you had spent the past hours scrolling through.

Realizing that the office was nearly empty, and that the sky was dimming into a dark hue, you were about to shut down your laptop and call it a long fucking day when a tweet on someone’s SNS caught your eye.

@truth-teller: kim taehyung? nation’s golden boy? are you all really sure about that nonsense?

The tweet was spammed with angered replies, so many that the thread seemed to stretch on for at least a mile, but your interest was piqued. This was the first word of slander you had ever witnessed against Taehyung. You quickly pounded out a message to the account.

@name_01: hey, I saw your tweet about taehyung! Do you perhaps have any more information on him? I find him suspicious too.

You tapped send and waited with bated breath for a reply. Minutes crept by, and you were about to turn off your phone and head out of work when you noticed three dots pop up, dancing before disappearing.

@truth-teller: you fr? I had to suspend my acc because of all the spam I got. No one’s believed me on it, but I have proof

You chewed on your lip. What if this was a joke, and you were just wasting your time on some internet troll with too much time on their hands. It seemed like you were taking too long to reply because another message popped up.

@truth-teller: if you don’t believe me then that’s fine. I don’t have to waste my time

@name_01: WAIT! Sorry, it took me a second to comprehend this information… Please tell me more.

You were worried that the account wouldn’t reply anymore, and that you had ruined your opportunity before the three dots popped up again and another message was sent.

@truth-teller: ok, if you want to find out more let’s move to a better messaging platform, just in case my acc gets suspended by more fans. here’s my number: xxx-xxx-xxxx

It was a gamble to send some stranger on the internet your number, but at this point, you were too desperate to really give a damn. There was a story just out of the reach of your fingertips; you would be a fool to deny the carrot on a stick you were being provided.

@name-01: okay, I’ll message you.

Name: hey! Truth-teller right? This is me from the messages

JK: yeah that’s me. I prefer JK when I’m not on sns tho

Name: I’m (y/n). I don’t mean to sound like I’m hurrying you, but I want to hear what you have to say about Taehyung.

JK: lol r u a reporter or smth? Real bossy of you keke

You sucked in a breath. Should you reveal that?

Name: haha would it be bad if I said I was?

There was no response for the next 15 minutes. Exhaling a long sigh, you decided that you should at least maneuver your way home; the office had been cleared out completely during your conversation with this JK, and you couldn’t help the creeps that the emptiness gave you. If anything, the walk back to your place would give you some outlet for the nervous energy radiating throughout you. You were nearly at the door of your apartment when your phone vibrated in your pocket, signaling a message.

JK: just checking. Makes sense that you’re one though. It’d be nice if you could break this story out, but I hope you trust me enough after I tell you what I know

You clicked the door shut behind you, your eyebrows creased as you stared at your phone screen.

Name: don’t worry. I trust you!

You dropped your bag down onto the sofa before throwing your body onto the seat. The three dots under JK’s name popped up for several minutes before disappearing. In the place of the three dots, a long message had been typed out.

JK: I didn’t really think much of taehyung when I first heard about him since he’s the nation’s golden boy or whatever bs title they call him nowadays, but my sister’s friend was a big fan of him. she went out with my sister and they met him in some shady club in gangnam. my sister’s friend got to talk to him exclusively and my sister got separated from her and got a text from her friend saying that she had smth come up and she already went home. she tried to contact her friend the day after, but she got a text back saying that her friend wasn’t feeling well. my sister’s friend was “best friends’’ with her but she didn’t contact my sister again until a week later saying she got a job opportunity overseas and already was about to board on the plane because it was important she got there fast. my sister’s friend didn’t contact her again like she dropped off the face of the earth

You pursed your lips in contemplation as you tapped out a message back, your nails clicking against the screen.

Name: ?? Are you sure that isn’t a coincidence?

JK: yeah, I thought so too but it was rly sus that my sister’s friend who had known my sister for 12 years to suddenly go overseas for a job opportunity without telling her at all. and when my sister tried to get new contact info from her friend there was no reply. but I got curious and since I do some computer work for my job i wanted to see if I could track the ip address of her phone but there was nothing. her last previous ip was all the way back in gangnam and my sister’s friend lived in incheon. that was a red flag so I decided to go talk to the landlord at my sister’s friend’s old apartment and the landlord said he didn’t see her come back since before that night but woke up to a fully paid lease and the apartment cleared out 

You squinted your eyes at the screen, unable to properly process the information that this so-called JK had just given you. Chewing on your lip, you closed your eyes briefly before opening them back up and typing back a message.

Name: anything else? Sorry…just seems a bit far-fetched.

JK: think whatever then. I have to go to work now

Right when JK’s message popped up, another message pinged on your cell. You refused to let yourself ponder more on JK’s last message as you clicked on your friend’s text notification.

Platonic LOML <3: BAE, R U FREE TONIGHT? I’m lonely n want someone to come with me to this club— ik you’re not into clubs but pretty please

You were about to reply with a refusal when JK’s words came up to your mind again. You didn’t know why, but there was a sharp feeling in your gut that told you that you couldn’t miss this opportunity Call it silly intuition or some coincidental fabrication spurned by your mind, but that feeling persisted until you typed out a reply to your friend.

Name: okay fine. Come over in 30.

Taehyung swirled the liquid in his glass, watching the deep burgundy of the wine stain the glass a soft pink. His head was hurting again, and the new medication he had been taking for them on advice of the company didn’t work.

He scanned the dim, musty club, watching the pulsating lights cloak the dancing bodies in sallow shades of pale yellow. This club was a downgrade from his previous celebrity-exclusive club that he had gone to the previous week, but his manager had told him that if he really wanted peace, he should choose an area where no one would really know him.

Taehyung knew the real reason why his manager had insisted on this. Deaths of other celebrities were much harder to cover up after all.

Pity he actually followed his manager’s advice for once. The wine in here, despite the bougie price tag, was complete shit and provided him a slight buzz at best. And there was no one who really caught his eye out of the crowd of people. As he was about to get up from his seat and leave the club for somewhere with better—he contemplated going back to that celebrity club just to fuck with his company—pickings, he caught sight of someone entering the club.

You looked absolutely gorgeous, swathed in a black shift that you kept fighting to keep over your ass—and god, was it a plump ass too, the kind that made Taehyung’s cock hard in his tight black pants—with hair framing your face in a breathtaking way that showed glimpses of sparkling jewelry. Your friend, some chick with dyed green hair that Taehyung didn’t bother paying attention to, was clinging onto your arm, dragging you near the dance floor.

Taehyung knew.

He couldn’t take his eyes off you.

His head seemed to clear from the mind-numbing throb it always had when he spent too much time without another victim to take his aggression out of. Feeling the cool metal of the blade he always had tucked near his body, Taehyung sat back down in his seat, a playful smile perking at the edges of his lips. Funny enough, the blood thirst that never seemed to properly leave him was gone from his mind, an occurrence that was as rare as the pills the company liked shoving down his throat actually working for once.

You maneuvered your way over to the bar, to him, your friend pouting as she noticed you leaving before melting away into the crowd of grinding bodies. Taehyung swore then and there that the attraction between you and him was absolutely magnetic, with the way you seemed to pull the other towards one another.

He watched as you ordered some pretty-colored martini, adorably scrunching your face as the burn of alcohol coated your tongue and hit the back of your throat with a singe.

Maybe, Taehyung though to himself as he propped his chin lazily on his palm, he should really start listening to his manager more often.

Your mind was in a haze, and you didn’t even notice the man next to you until he was nearly pressed to your side, barely leaving a gap of space between the two of you.

You glanced at him, your tipsy mind suddenly sobering up as you realized who the man sitting next to you was. Kim Taehyung? What the fuck was he doing here?

“Another drink for a pretty lady?” Taehyung’s teeth showed as he charmingly flashed an award-winning coquettish smile at you, his already extremely handsome features seeming to increase in beauty from the grin.

You remembered JK’s words and a chill ran up your spine. God, his messages didn’t seem so implausible now, did they? Goosebumps rose up on your skin, freezing you to the bar table. Were…Were you his next victim?

You swallowed dryly as you tried to calm your racing heartbeat. The side of you that was a reckless journalist wanted to take a nosedive at the headliner just out of reach, but the rational side of you knew that leap of faith had a much bigger chance of you ending up disappearing off for a new job opportunity overseas, as Taehyung’s company would have it. You couldn’t write a good story if you were dead, after all.

“Thank you, but I can pay for my own drinks,’’ your lips twitched slightly as you forced them into a hopefully convincing gentle smile, refusing his offer softly before moving your body casually a few inches away from him,” Having drinks bought by strangers isn’t really my thing.”

Your smile must’ve looked a hell of a lot less nervous than you actually felt and a lot more convincing too because Taehyung’s shoulders, which had previously been winded like he was a predator getting ready to pounce on prey, seemed to relax at your words.

There was a dark gleam in his eyes when he again invaded your personal space and pushed his body near yours. He leaned in and whispered softly into your ears, his voice clear despite the early 2010s hits blaring from the speakers by the dance floor.

“If you’re scared of strangers, why don’t we get to know each other a bit?’’

Your fake smile grew stiff on your face. You felt like you were going to hurl the convenience store meal of ramen that you had scarfed before coming to the club all over the bar and Taehyung’s expensive luxury bran clothes. You could feel a sense of dread in your bones, the kind a prey animal would feel as a predator focused its carnivorous attention on them.

You forced a fake laugh, trying to drive the message that you were just not interested to Taehyung as loud and clear as you could manage.

“No thanks; I have enough people I’m close to. If you’ll excuse me, I think I’ve left my friend alone for far too long on the dance floor.”

You pushed yourself off the bar table, flashing a strained polite smile before you headed over the dance floor, trying to keep your pace slow and steady instead of breaking out into the outright run you wanted to do.

Taehyung inhaled the linger scent of your perfume, a natural smell that sweetly layered itself over the damp musky air of the club. His eyes, even as you tried to focus on the pounding music and forget the fear embedded deeply in your gut, never seemed to leave your form. Even when you burrowed yourself deeply into the crowd away from his view, you could still feel it.

You found yourself painfully sober after that encounter, trying to look normal in front of your friend for the rest of the night that seemed to painstakingly drag on for eternity. Even when you had the short 2-minute walk from the cab you took to your front door, you didn’t stop looking over your shoulder, still feeling the chill that came with the thought of Taehyung’s gaze. When you got inside your home, the bubbling nausea in your stomach took control over you, and you ended up heaving your dinner down the toilet.

When you managed to somewhat pull yourself together, you typed out a quick message with practically shaking fingers to the only one you could think of in that moment would understand what you were feeling, You stared at your unsent message before hastily pressing send.Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Name: I didn’t know who to talk to, but I saw Taehyung at the club today. I think you’re right about what you said about Taehyung.

Ping!

You barely managed to fall asleep that night, and your eyes painfully ached when you peeled your eyelids open, hurriedly grabbing your phone and turning it on to check your messages.

JK: what happened? Sry for late response. Job keeps me busy all night

Your fingers flew over the keyboard as you typed out your message, furrowing your eyebrows in concentration as you tried to relay the events of your night in hopefully comprehensible words.

Name: I went with my friend to some sketchy club idk what area at this point but I went to the bar and I felt someone come up to me ?? I turned and realized it was Taehyung, and he offered to buy me a drink but I declined. Makes me sick how I could’ve been his next victim, so I tried to leave and go back to where there was more ppl in the club, But I can’t stop thinking about the look in his eyes. There was something sickening in them, I couldn’t put my finger on it.

JK didn’t respond for a bit, and you exhaled a trembling breath when his message popped up.

JK: be careful. Im glad you managed to get away

Name: I’m scared. I didn’t know what to do, but hopefully I’ll never see him again once I get this scoop out.

JK: stay safe. Thx for telling me. Text me if anything else happens.

You let out a shaky breath before clicking your phone off, your nerves still rattled but slightly more calmed down after talking with JK. You had to get ready for work, but at this rate, you weren’t even sure how you would be able to get through the day. Maybe you should take a sick day? No, you couldn’t.

The elevator dinged closed behind you as you stepped out of it into the office. As you were about to take a seat at your desk, your boss rushed out of his office, relief, something he never showed to you, evident on his expression once he caught sight of you.

“(Y/n)! Come into my office; I have an important job for you,’’ your boss ushered you into his office without another word, practically pushing a baffled you into the room frantically,” You know the company that manages Kim Taehyung? They reached out and agreed to an exclusive one-on-one interview with Kim Taehyung only, and only, if you agreed to the interview.”

You stiffened, your body frozen as you tried to process the words your boss had just spoken. Your brain seemed to be running a marathon as you computed the words your boss said, and you could only meekly respond with a limp,” Why me? Can’t somebody…Can’t someone else take over? Boss…you know I’m not that experienced.”

Boss Kim barely paid any attention to your words as he rested a hand on your shoulder with a confident look on his face.

“Then, use this opportunity to get more experience. You want to show the world that you’re a journalist by getting a scoop? Then take this interview! You know the company never agrees to exclusive one-on-one interviews unless they’re all staged, but there wasn’t even talk of this being staged at all. If you can use this opportunity and get something big, won’t this be your biggest step towards a great journalist career?’’ your boss exclaimed,’’ If you back out, another chance like this won’t come again!”

As much of an asshole Boss Kim was sometimes, you could find the logic in his words. Besides, it must be a coincidence that Kim Taehyung wanted you specifically to give him an interview; maybe he wanted a newbie, so they wouldn’t have much experience trying to fish out personal details and twist his words.

That’s right. There was no way he even remembered what you looked like. You guys interacted for, what, a solid 2 minutes last night. And if you did this interview right, you could use it as a building block as evidence for the headliner you intended to release with what JK had told you.

You exhaled, nodding your head firmly.

“I will. I’ll take this interview.”

Boss Kim’s face brightened, making him look much more like the stereotypical handsome CEO character found in dramas. Since he always looked exhausted and stressed out, he always seemed more intimidating, an aura that seemed to scare off any thoughts about how gorgeous he actually was. You had to admit: your heart did flutter a bit at his face.

“Excellent! He’s waiting in the meeting room right now! You only need, what, six hours to prepare, right?”

Fuck, you take back that heart flutter. Boss Kim was an asshole.

“S-Sir,’’ you sputtered,” I can’t…’’

Before you even finished your words, Boss Kim was already ushering you back out of the office.

“I believe in you! You got this!”

He closed the door behind you. You swallowed back the mouthful of swears you wanted to spew before scrambling towards your desk.

You weren’t prepared, but you knew you would do anything for a scoop.

Exactly 6 hours and seventeen seconds later, you were primly seated in front of Kim Taehyung.

The seats were annoyingly too close, and you cursed Boss Kim in your heart, knowing that the reason why the chairs were placed in such an unprofessional manner was because Boss Kim wanted to create the perfect intimate setting for no cost. If you tried to extend your legs, you’d end up smacking them straight into Taehyung’s legs.  

You, although disgruntled, had to admit that there was a reason why so many major brands wanted him as their model. He was handsome under the shitty lighting of the musty club last night, but here, with his hair and makeup carefully done despite the fluorescent lighting of the room, he was every synonym of the word beautiful combined into one person.

Blond strands of his hair brushed his chiseled features, and his eyes, curved attractively and framed with delicate long wisps of eyelashes, was intensely focused on your face. He looked ever like a marble statue, carved with attention and detail to be the most perfect specimen artistry could ever create. But he wasn’t perfect; that was what you knew. And that would also be what would you get just one step ahead of him.

You swept a piece of hair and tucked it behind an ear as you scanned your hastily scribbled notes. His eyes clung to that movement, as if he was mesmerized by your every action, and you peeked a look through your lashes. Your eyes met, and you forced a stiff smile.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you rolled your shoulders back into a proper posture, gingerly extending a hand out for him to take,” Good morning. It’s an honor to be able to do an interview with you.”

The edges of his lips tilted upward, and there was a playful glint in his eyes as his previous fiercely predatory state melted into the façade he put up in front of the public. He reached out and took your hand, throwing you off guard as he leaned in and pressed a tender kiss on the back of your hand.

“Likewise, it’s an honor to have an interview with you, (Y/n).’’

Yuck, you were going to have to wash your hands later. Anyways, what kind of person even kissed the back of people’s hands nowadays? This was the 21st century for fuck’s sake. You somehow kept your grimace to yourself.

You nervously laughed as you practically yanked your hand back out of his grasp. You casually wiped the back of your hand on the fabric of your skirt, disguising the movement as simply brushing off dust. Taehyung’s eyes didn’t leave any of your movements, and he laughed a little as he realized just what you were doing.

Oh, you were so interesting. You weren’t like the rest of them, the fans that threw themselves at him adoringly; hell, he was sure you weren’t even a fan. He was entranced. When he was close to you, the headaches seemed to fade; he didn’t want to drown himself in another body when he was with you. He didn’t want to kill when he was with you.

You ignored his burning gaze, breezing through the beginning parts of the interview. Finally, you reached the part that you had been anxiously preparing for.

“So, I heard that you’re trying out a new actor role. As a model and an artist and now an actor, we have to admit that your talents are incredibly versatile, Kim Taehyung-ssi.’’ You continued speaking. “Could you tell us a little more about this role?’’

“You flatter me too much, (Y/n).’’ He purposefully had left any formalities to the wind in this interview, a move that made you want to grind your teeth. “Yes, I was offered one of the leading roles in a new thriller movie. I’ll be acting as one of the charismatic but complex characters. I hope to show you and all of my fans a new side to Kim Taehyung.”

“Ah, a new side,’’ you nodded lightly,” Your new role as a charismatic serial killer who targets his admirers is certainly what many would call…complex. How do you go about preparing for such a twisted role?”

“Hmm…,’’ Taehyung’s lips curled up menacingly for a brief moment before fading away into a breezy smile,’’ It’s quite difficult to immerse myself into a role in which I have limited experience in, so I like to read through the script and make a map of what the character is like. What motivates him; what makes him so…complex, as you called it. I pretend to be like the character. How do I make myself think like him? That’s the question I like to try to find an answer to.”

“Ah, this is simply my personal opinion, but to truly play the character requires some true life experience…Is it possible that you’ve ever done anything similar to what the character has done in real life?”

A pin seemed to drop in that very moment from the silence that crowded the room. Everyone in the room froze and stared at you, their glances less than pleasant. You bore it all as you stared intently into his eyes. Slip up, you prayed, do something that will make you slip up. There was not even a brief soft sound in the 10 seconds that it took for Taehyung to respond.

He was rigid, the smile plastered on his face barely fading. Come on, you begged, expose yourself just a bit.

“Your response is lagging for just a bit, Kim Taehyung-ssi. It makes you seem guilty just a bit, doesn’t it?’’

He snapped out of it right then and there.

“I was simply contemplating my response. Your impatience is something not so befitting of a formal interview. To answer your question, isn’t a role just a role at the end of the day? If you think about it, I’m not the only person to have played a role like this. Many actors and actresses have done so without any thought of relating it to their real life. After all, a role is simply an imaginary self.”

You both stared into each other’s eyes, and you felt the gazes of other people around you burn into you.

You settled on a retreat. It was fine; this interview was just the first building block. You laughed lightly, throwing off the previous tense silence easily.

“Of course! We wouldn’t expect nothing but, right? We hope to see your talent truly shine through in this new role!’’

The tenseness in the room seemed to slip away right then, and the deathly gazes on you flitted away, like they were never there in the first place.

You let out a sigh as you left the interview room. God, that was terrifying, but you knew that you had to do what you had just previously done. What you had just done asserted the theory that you had. His company was hiding something about him, and that something was nothing less than downright horrific.

JK, you thought to yourself, I’m going to expose this story, just you wait.

“You weren’t just going to leave, huh?’’

You heard a familiar voice speak behind you, and you quickly spun around.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you forced out of your throat,’’ I believed you had already left.”

“I was going to, but I wanted to speak to you about the interview. The company rarely lets me do interviews, so it was really refreshing to have one done with you. We worked so well together, and I would like to thank you for the pleasant experience you had given me with dinner. You must be starving, right?’’

You had been starving earlier, but one word from Taehyung left your stomach churning in nausea.

“No!’’ your voice was a bit too loud, so you hastily softened it,’’ No, that’s not necessary. You don’t need to thank me.”

Taehyung took steps closer to you, and you unconsciously took a step back. Noticing your movements, he looked at you and flashed a grin that might’ve looked harmless to others but outright menacing to you.

“Are you scared of me?’’ his voice was almost like a purr. You fought back a shiver, straightening your back and looking him straight in the eyes.

“No,’’ you stabilized your voice, keeping a waver out of it,” Why would I be scared of you? You’re not some higher being than me just because you’re a celebrity. You’re human, after all. But, as you can see, I have work to do, so I will have to politely decline your offer.”

“You can have the rest of the day off.”

You spun around on your heels, your gaze colliding with Boss Kim’s. When did he arrive?

“Sir! Boss! No, if I skipped out on work, I’d be a burden to everyone. Besides, I—,’’ your voice was cut off by another voice.

“It’d be good to establish a positive relationship between your company and ours. Your boss would usually be the one to go to a dinner, but I believe he already has plans. Any work you were unable to fulfill today will be taken care of.”

The voice seemed to chill you to the bone. You turned to make eyes with a man. Was he…Taehyung’s manager? Although he was handsome, the kind of handsome that was comparable with Taehyung’s, something about him churned your stomach. While Taehyung was like a predator waiting to pounce on his prey, the man behind this voice was already sinking his teeth into the neck, wringing out the… You snapped out of your thoughts.

Snap out of it, you mentally scolded yourself.  

“How about it?’’ Taehyung’s manager coldly smiled, his tone like glaciers.

You opened your mouth to try to refute, but with the burning gaze from your boss, you could only dip your head in a bow, your voice low.

“Thank you for the offer. I accept.”

They couldn’t kill you, right? It’d be too obvious.

You followed them out, and when you passed by Boss Kim, you made a panicked glance at him. What greeted you made you halt briefly in your pace.

When Boss Kim made eye contact with you, he patted your shoulder in what should’ve been reassurance. His lips spread out in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Don’t disappoint me, hmm?’’

His words, spoken low and steady, left a chill in your veins as you kept walking, and the sliding doors of the elevator dinged close behind you, effectively trapping you with Taehyung and his manager.

You somehow made it out of the elevator and through the tense car ride alive. Now, you were seated next to Taehyung himself in the private room of a restaurant. Smoke rose from the grill, briefly obscuring your view of his manager from across you.

You tried to think positively of the situation. If Taehyung was drunk, maybe he’d slip up, but…you made a furtive glance at his manager from across the grill, slightly jolting when your eyes collided with his own. The fear that nearly overcame you made you nauseous.

“A drink?”

Taehyung’s voice broke the tense silence, and you turned to see him already raising his glass. You stiffly smiled, barely managing to keep the nervous twitch out of the curves of your lips.

“I don’t drink.”

“It’s impolite to decline a friendly offer. Come on, a toast to a wonderful…partnership.” Taehyung chuckled, raising his glass, as he leaned his chin onto the propped palm of his hand,” And we wouldn’t want a bad start to it.”

You were panicking by now, but you could imagine what Boss Kim would say if Taehyung’s company pulled out because of something so miniscule. You couldn’t afford to lose your job, not with the way you had fought tooth and nail to get your position; you wouldn’t last a month without your job or the meager protection it gave you.

You made your decision, a decision you would’ve done anything else but avoid, and tilted the glass up, clinking it against Taehyung’s glass. Turning away, you made it look like you were lightly sipping the drink, but you only allowed the liquid to slightly wet your lips. You set down the still-full glass and smiled pleasantly.

“I can only drink this much. Anymore, and I would experience terrible side effects.”

Taehyung didn’t seem even irked by your feeble attempt at pretending; instead, his eyes filled with amusement. He didn’t stop staring at you, and the threatening vibe of it caused you to unconsciously delve into your habit of gripping your glass of water and drinking it in an attempt to calm your nerves.

You placed the empty glass back down before resuming anxiously picking at your food. A pair of chopsticks—specifically Taehyung’s chopsticks—placed a piece of barbecued meat on your bowl of rice.

“Not feeling hungry? You need to eat. Skipping meals is bad for your health,’’ Taehyung beamed as he watched you carefully pick up the piece of meat and eat it. It would’ve been delicious any other time, but the churning in your gut made it taste like sand in your mouth. You dryly swallowed it.

“I’m heading to the restroom.”

You heard Taehyung’s manager speak in his flat tone, and you threw a skittish glance at him as he stood up and walked out of the private room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

“Ah, now that that nuisance is out of the way, why don’t we talk more?’’ Taehyung’s tone was playful, and you flinched as he leaned closer to you, his breath brushing against the outer shell of your ear.

“Kim Taehyung-ssi,’’ you gritted the name through your teeth,” Please respect my personal space.”

He laughed lowly before he dropped a hand on your thigh. You were about to make a move to push him away, but your body suddenly felt tired, like you weren’t quite in control anymore.

“Come on, do what I say, and your little news company will do so much better. Your boss didn’t tell you this, but your company’s going bankrupt. One peep from me, and your company will rise in ranking, but I can only do that if I’m in a…happy mood.”

Taehyung pressed even closer to you, his nose against the curve of your neck as he inhaled your scent deeply in. His hands moved from his side and he ripped open the buttons of your shirt, groping your bra-covered tits. You let out an incoherent mumble in response, trying to flimsily kick at him.

Where was the waiter? Why was his manager taking so long? They planned this!

Disgust and heat coiled in your gut, but you were too dizzy to move. Something…that bastard…Did he spike your water? You were too careless, fuck. Taehyung moved one hand to tilt your chin up before his lips met yours. Despite how sloppy of a kiss it was, you could tell he was experienced, practically tasting every inner crevice of your soft mouth with his tongue, and you should’ve continued to be revolted, but whatever pill in your system had you melting into his mouth.

Taehyung seemed to sense the turmoil and conflict in you and the soft give of your will, and that seemed to make him even braver. He slid a hand up your skirt, his touch hot even through the fabric of your stockings, and you let out a startled moan against his lips, drool dribbling down the corners of your mouth. He pulled back, and you could barely see through the teary haze of your eyes. It had been too long since the last time you had a good fuck. You just wanted to be touched…wanted to be fucked so hard his cock would press against your womb.  

“I just want to see you let go a bit, baby,’’ there was the triumph of domination in his voice. The sober part of you wanted to rebel, wanted to push and scream and kick him away, but you weren’t sober, weren’t clear-minded. Your legs spread as if begging for more of his touch.

He ripped his fingers through your stocking, and the material easily gave way underneath his strength. You could feel the damp spot on your panties, growing as he rubbed his fingertips against your drooling pussy. You shivered slightly in delirious pleasure as his finger rolled over your throbbing clit.  

“Mmph!’’ you let out a sound as he pushed your soaked panties to the side and pushed his fingers deep into your pussy. You couldn’t object, not when your pussy was stretching with a spine-tingling ache around his fingers, and especially not when he begin to set a teasing pace. He pushed his fingers in, and you shut your eyes in shame as your moans grew louder.

Your toes curled as his movements grew faster, reaching deep into you, and you were so, so close. Oh my god you could feel…and you were cumming hard. Your walls shivered and twitched around his still moving fingers, and you murmured a dazed plea as he finally stilled and pulled his fingers out. You, still twitching from how hard you came earlier, were ashamed to see the way his fingers glistened with the remnants of your arousal and orgasm.

The sound of his pants being unclasped drew you out of your drugged state. No, he wasn’t going to…Come on, snap out of it, snap out of it.

He drew back closer again, and you sucked in a breath, trying to push through your daze. He leaned in. You managed to bring your arms up to the table, grabbing the nearest object that you could reach. Your trembling fingers closed around your nearly empty water glass, and you took it, raising it and smashing it as hard as you could over his head. Water, ice cubes, and glass shards struck as the glass broke. Taehyung, not expecting the blow, had a temporary moment of weakness, and you managed to push him off you.

You shoved yourself up onto shaky legs, wrapping the ripped blouse around your weakened body, and forced yourself into a run outside of the room. The hallway of the restaurant around the private rooms was empty, devoid of any person. You frantically looked over your shoulder, relieved that you didn’t see him coming after you. This was a public place, though it was late at night, and you knew Taehyung wouldn’t risk his perfect reputation. But still, you remembered his manager was still out there.

You couldn’t let them kill you…You had to survive! You broke into a blind run, ignoring the strange looks and the calls you got from the restaurant’s staff as you pushed out of the restaurant into the street. You kept running despite the dizziness of your mind, and you could barely see what was in front of you before…You crashed into someone, slamming into their body so hard that you were sent sprawling to the ground.

“Please…,’’ you choked out, your voice strangled, crying out a desperate plea as you grabbed onto their clothes,’’ Please help me.”

Your mind was dizzy, splotches of colors splattering your blurry vision. Your body had overexerted yourself, and you prayed that you wouldn’t end up a dead body on the news as your grip around the clothes went lip, and you collapsed into the road. Through the buzzing of your ears, you could hear a startled voice call out, feel a firm touch grab your shoulders and try to shake you awake. Some strange hope rose in you; maybe…maybe…?

You murmured desperately one last mumble, your words barely making sense, as you spiraled into unconsciousness.  

“JK…please help me.”

A/N: if you want to be added to the taglist for the next part, reply with a  ❤️. If you enjoyed the story, please leave a comment or a detailed review below <3

Next work will be a fic for Jungkook’s upcoming birthday. Poll will be released soon for what kind of plot it should have! 

[markleesthighs]

Can you make a part 2 for “Forbidden Moonlight”? I’d like to see some gun fighting, some car chasing, some actual mafia jaemin action with the “I would die and I would kill for you!” kinda spirit? I mean the one who requested it has great theme ideas, it is definitely chef’s kiss and I don’t think it should be left off in just 1 part. We gotta know what the ambassador offered to jaemin.

-i'm on a break, so i finally got a chance to write it! I Sorry requests have been taking long, haven't gotten a chance to write in a while. I hope you all enjoy!

read part 1 here

You missed school for the rest of the day. You didn't even have a chance to explain your situation to Jaemin, feeling guilty. In your limo ride home your dad kept scolding and yelling to you about Jaemin. He went on and on about how stupid you were. To be fair, you had no idea Jaemin was associated with the mafia as well as your dad so you brushed off his comments. When you arrived home you didn't bother to talk to your parents as you stormed up to your room.

"There you are, m/n."

"JAE-"

Jaemin rushed to shut your mouth with his hand.

"How did you know where I was?"

"I have a tracker on your phone." "You psycho."

"But you love this psycho."

"What are you doing here?"

"I thought since you've had a pretty shitty day that you'd want to come with me to a drag racing competition."

"Jaemin, you know I'd love to but my parents-"

"God, have you never snuck out before? Just do the thing in the movies where you use pillows to make it seem like you're in bed sleeping."

"Fine."

You piled up your pillows and covered them with a blanket and added a wig to really sell it.

"Let's go."

Jaemin climbed down the lattice below your window that had vines growing on it. You rolled your eyes figuring that's how he got up here. You also saw the busted circuit breaker box, showing how Jaemin got past your tight security. Jaemin jumped over your gate and helped you up and over for your escape. He pulled you onto his motorcycle and you both rode off to the underground drag race arena.

When you arrived it was everything you imagined. Intimidating guys and girls left and right. The security stopped you (clearly since you didn't fit in with your preppy outfit) but Jaemin reassuring the guard saying you were with him. You were expecting Jaemin to be one of the top betters or backers behind a driver but Jaemin started to get changed into a racer uniform. Part of you was worried and Jaemin could tell.

"Don't worry baby, I've done this a dozen times."

You still pouted.

"And yes, I've won every time, and I'll win again for you."

He pecked your lips.

"You better."

He chuckled at your comment as he got into his car. You were standing among his mafia members will visibly worried.

"On your mark racers!"

You heard the loudest rumbling you've heard come out of a car, covering your ears.

"Get set!"

The smell of burnt rubber came towards your nose and the cars became even louder.

"Go!"

The cars sped off with a huge cloud of smoke blowing behind them causing you to cough.

"First time?"

A very tall handsome guy looked down at you that looked like he could tear you to pieces in a second. You nodded in response.

"You must be m/n. Jaemin's talked a lot about you, I'm Johnny one of his members in his...company."

"I know he's in the mafia business, you know?"

"Oh, well at least he told you the truth."

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of the cars approaching you heard all the screams and cheers as you saw Jaemin's car approaching. But you also saw the other one not too far behind. It was intense watching the cars quickly approach the finish line, your heart was beating rapidly with adrenaline. Jaemin was leading before the other car caught up and they kept going back and forth it was causing you to have anxiety. But at the last second, you saw Jaemin pull ahead and crossed the finish line. You and the other members screamed loud cheering and hooting. Jaemin got out of his car and you ran up and hugged him.

"I was so worried."

"Aw, my baby was scared? What did I tell you I'm a professional."

You saw people exchanging money and people cashing out after betting on Jaemin, you assumed everyone bets on Jaemin. Suddenly gunshots were fired and you heard cop sirens getting closer.

"Fuck, which one of you called the cops?!"

Jaemin grabbed your hand along with the other members following you to the back alley where their motorcycles were. A few gunshots were fired in your direction and Jaemin blocked you from the shots. You saw a bullet hit Jaemin.

"Fuck!" "Jaemin! Are you alright?!"

"I'm fine, m/n, if it came down to it, I would die for you."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"Can you two lovebirds quit it for one second!?" Mark yelled.

You hopped onto Jaemin's motorcycle as he sped up getting ready to leave. Johnny and others were yelling at him to go ahead and that they'll hold the cops off. Jaemin thanked them and you two sped off into the streets and onto the highway back to his house. Luckily, you both arrived safely at the house with Jaemin's guards being attentive. You sat silently in his living room awaiting the other members who were slowly trickling into the mansion. You saw the maids rushing to give Jaemin a first aid kit before he brushed them off saying he could do it himself. Jaemin was struggling to reach the bullet on the back of his shoulder and he was cutely trying to reach to remove it. You giggled telling him you could remove it for him.

"Are you sure m/n?"

"Yeah, I'm studying to become a doctor so don't worry. "

Jaemin stared as you remove the bullet from his shoulder as he hissed you apologized kissing his cheek. He looked at you stare at his shoulder with such care as you delicately dabbed his wound with rubbing alcohol. As he thought about it he never had someone who cared for him this much, most of them wanted him for sex, money, or reputation. You'd always ask him if something hurt and warn him about you stitching up his wound for him. You wrapped his arm up and you looked up at him to make sure he was ok and Jaemin looked at you with pure love in his eyes. He smiled at you and softly kissed your lips.

"God I love you."

You laughed "I love you too, Jaemin."

He kissed you passionately, leading your kissing to become faster and deeper. As Jaemin was about to take off his shirt, one of his members interrupted the two of you.

Jaemin groaned screaming "What the fuck is it now?! Can't you see I'm busy?!"

"It's Mr. y/l/n."

Jaemin immediately froze, got off of you, and basically commanded that you stay where you were. But you weren't about to miss a showdown between Jaemin and your father, so you followed shortly after. You eavesdropped around the corner of the entrance where your dad and his associates stood along with Jaemin and his associates.

"I know you have him. I want my son back. I don't need someone like you to ruin his future."

"Funny, because last time I believe you offered me a lifetime get out of jail free cards, airway travels, and millions of cash whenever I asked."

"You know that wasn't the deal Jaemin, I told you to leave my son alone for those offers, but you don't seem to hold up your end of the bargain."

"What can I say? Despite you being a complete dickhead, your son is quite a lovely darling."

"Well, would your 'lovely darling' like to see this?"

Your father pulled up a video on a laptop his associates were holding, it was Jaemin and his buds in a club, but you can clearly hear what they were saying.

"Jaemin, I heard you 'found the one' you lucky piece of shit," Johnny spoke.

"Yeah, he's been treating him to everything, it's funny how those lovebirds act around each other," Taeyong added.

"There's no way Na Jaemin found someone to 'settle with', boss you're basically a god, you can get whoever the hell you want." Jaehyun drunkenly spoke.

"I can't believe you got lucky with m/n, he's basically the ideal leverage we need to take this gang to the next level," Lucas said.

Your heart stopped, leverage? What the hell was going on? Jaemin was still silent at this point.

Ten then jumped in "There's no fucking way you're actually in love with m/n right? He's not even that good-looking."

"Fuck yeah, the only thing good about him is his daddy" Haechan responded.

"Don't worry guys you know the only reason I'm keeping m/n is so I can milk out m/n's daddy of his money like a cash cow," Jaemin spoke.

You felt the tears starting to pool up in your eyes as they silently fell down your cheek. Is this what Jaemin really thought about you? What the fuck? So all of this was a joke? You were just fucking money to him? You hated yourself for thinking Jaemin actually loved you. Your dad was right, you didn't need a liar and manipulator like him in your life.

After Jaemin's words were played your father's laptop closed.

"What's wrong, Jaemin? Why so silent?"

"You can't do this."

"Who's going to stop me, think about it, it's my word against yours."

"Blackmail is a fucking cheap way to get what you want."

"How else did you think I got to this position? Beating those who get in my way. Now got get my son, get him for me, or else I'll send this to him to watch for eternity."

"...Yes, Mr. y/l/n."

"Oh and for the future Jaemin, do not think about seeing m/n ever again. You know the consequences."

"...Yeah yeah."

You quickly scurried back to the couch and wiped your tears off your face. You pretended to lie down and be asleep. Jaemin shook you to wake you up.

"Hey, baby?"

"Jaemin? What's up?"

"You...you have to go..."

"W-why?" You said trying not to break in front of him. You gazed into his eyes, is this really someone who didn't love you? You can't trust anyone anymore.

"Your dad is a ruthless man, and he has leverage on me, it's something that will change the way you look at me forever. To spare you the pain, I have to let you go now."

"J-Jaemin...fuck you."

You got up immediately but Jaemin grabbed your wrist.

"m/n...just know that I still love you, I sw-"

"You're just a fucking liar, I hope milking my dad's cash cow was worth losing the person who loved you most."

Jaemin realized you heard everything and was stunned. He watched you walk over to your father who embraced you in his arms with fake responses saying how he was so worried and other bullshit like that. Jaemin ran out to the front in hopes of you turning back. He wanted you to turn back, he doesn't want to lose the love of his life. He didn't want your dad's money, he wanted you.

"m/n! Please! I'm so sorry!" Jaemin was crying pleading on his knees.

He looked up at you, the full moon was behind you, beaming through your beautiful hair, reflecting off your soft smooth skin, just like the first night he met you. But this image was different. The moon shined on your tears and the streaks that fell down your cheek. He saw you with endless tears as each drop sparkled like a crystal in the light. You looked down at him and slapped his face.

"Fuck you Na Jaemin, I hope this was worth it."

You hopped into your car with the moonlight shining through your window as you took one last glance at Jaemin. He was broken and defeated. No wish on the moon could save him now.

[zmediaoutlet]

in support of Texas relief,@whiskeycherrypie donated $25, and requested Sam/Dean, very late seasons, switching. Thank you for donating!

to get your own personalized fic, please see this post. (no longer taking prompts)

(read on AO3)

The second hunt, after, is when things start to feel real again.

First job was the shapeshifter and even after just a few weeks of post-almost-apocalypse vacation they were rusty, as much as they ever got rusty. Sam broke his damn finger, which Dean made fun of him for, and Dean limped around on a half-busted shin that Sam can just stop smirking about, any time now, but they felt—like what? Hard to pin down. Like they were stepping out into a strange world. Like they'd fire a gun and didn't know if it'd recoil the same way it always would, because the world was different. New. At least, Dean kept feeling that way, and he thinks he's known Sam long enough to guess Sam was feeling about the same. Every part of that job was—feeling for a step down in the dark, and then being surprised when it was there. Sam flicking through the local paper checking obits, cautious when he pointed out a possible connection, like he hadn't done the same thing a hundred, thousand, times before. Dean going through the trunk and pulling out their supplies and holding a fistful of silver bullets in his hand and thinking—is this it? Sam, getting the motel room after, when they'd been to the Urgent Care to check out Dean's stupid shin that it turns out, okay, wasn't broken after all, and the woman at the counter asking what kind of room, and Sam hesitating, and glancing back at where Dean was propped up in the office doorway.

But it was right, in the end. They did right. They saved most of a day and killed the bad thing and it turned out that after everything they were still the same guys they always were. After the world ended it was supposed to be maybe something else, but, shit, the world didn't quite end after all, and it turned out… Sam gave his stupid shin a few more days to rest up and kept his finger splinted and then after a week there was Sam, laptop open on the table when Dean came in for breakfast, and he said, "Hey, you want to work?" with every expectation that Dean would, and that—that was new, kind of, in the way that Sam wasn't trying to distract himself or Dean, and it wasn't to patch up some broken thing that couldn't be fixed, and it wasn't because they owed anything to anyone. It was because it turned out that after all this was who they were, and Dean looked at Sam over the island while he whipped up some eggs semi-capably (although he never used enough salt) and Sam glanced over his shoulder when the toaster popped and saw Dean looking, and raised his eyebrows like—what?—like this wasn't just the best hope of Dean's life being realized, finally, right here in a hole in the ground at eight in the morning, on the wrong side of forty. "What's the job?" was all Dean said, then, and then—that was it. That was that.

Second hunt's a success, too. Vetalas, in Wyoming. Dean hates Wyoming. Not for the people or the scenery or the weather, even, though the weather can be a bitch, but because you can't get anywhere with a damn mountain leaping up into the middle of the highway and having to drive three hours the wrong direction to get to where you're going. Sam has heard this argument, and rolls his eyes mostly, but this time, this second hunt, he laughs, and stretches out in the passenger seat with the window rolled down and his elbow hanging out, and it's summer and he's stripped out of his jacket and has his sleeves rolled up and he just looks—good. Dean recites his lines: "Lander to Pinedale should be, what, forty minutes, but no, we gotta drive a hundred miles out of the way to get around this stupid—" and Sam sighs and says his line, which is, "Don’t you like driving?" and Dean says, "Don't get facts in the way here, man, that is not the issue—" and it's… the same ruts, the same life, but Sam's face is all folded up in glad creases, his dimple carved in so deep it looks like it's going to set up residence there full-time, and Dean eases off the gas a little, stretches out the drive, even if it's around the same damn mountain they've circled three times, looking for the same damn vetalas. They find them, of course, and they kill them, and they find three men drained of life in the cellar at their cabin but there are two more that Sam and Dean save, and on the drive back to Kansas through the night Sam's not in that same sunshine mood but he's not anything but content, either. Dean had—he'd hoped, in some shriveled part of himself that hadn't really had much luck with hoping—and maybe the last few years he'd gotten some proof, that what he'd wanted was what Sam wanted, too—but to have the proof, right here, it's—he doesn't pray, really, but he says inside his head very clearly thank you, to whatever might be listening. It's all he's got. He hopes it's enough.

They stop for a booze restock, for stuff to make dinner, and back at the bunker Dean's slow, watching Sam unpack his half of the car. His finger's still splinted but it can probably come off, soon. He gets his backpack on his shoulder and his duffle over his arm and the twelve pack in the good hand, and glances at Dean, and says, "What?"

"Nothing," Dean says. Sam's eyes narrow in that tiny tiny way where he smooths it out so fast he must think Dean won't notice, but Dean's honest, here, and he smiles without meaning to, and Sam frowns at him but smiles back, confused. Dean claps him on the shoulder and Sam shakes his head, says, "Dude, what?" and Dean says, "Nothing, you deaf? C'mon, let's get the beer in the fridge before it gets any warmer," and Sam shakes his head again and says, "You're the weirdest person I know," and Dean looks over his shoulder and says, "Takes one, Sammy," and he's just—sure. Sure, all through his body, from gut to his heart to his stupid brain, always lurching, looking for the exits. What a thing.

Spaghetti and meatballs, for dinner. The sauce is from a jar but Dean takes his time with the meat. Half pork, half beef, the spices he likes, a bunch of garlic. Sam practically inhales it and gets sauce on his chin and Dean grins at him until Sam colors and says, "Shut up," and swipes it off with the heel of his hand, and then shrugs and licks his palm. They're on season two of Game of Thrones and they watch an episode, and Dean wants Joffrey to die and asks Sam to tell him it'll happen soon, and Sam just smiles and says, "Dude, I'm not giving you spoilers after how long I had to wait to read the books. Hold your horses." Dean mutters, "I'll hold your horses," and Sam raises his eyebrows, but Dean just waves a hand instead of getting into the bickering match they could.

They get fresh beers and Dean says, "Hey, let's—" and so they head upstairs to ground level, and Sam brought two spare bottles each, and they go around to the back side of the big abandoned power plant where there's an ugly concrete bench they hung out on, sometimes. Especially before, when the bunker was fuller than it is now. A place to be quiet, to breathe. To watch the moonrise, as they're doing now, and drink in quiet companionship, their knees touching because they both tend to sprawl, and they've never, ever minded each other's warmth. Even when they were pissed at each other, or when it hurt.

Dean holds his beer in both hands, leaning his head back against the stone wall. Sam's quiet at his side. A three-quarter moon, so it's bright enough to lay white-silver on the planes of Sam's face. His nose, a gleam of that goofy ski-slope swoop. His brow. A light shine on his hair, and brighter on the silver that's started to come out in it. Dean's always been a little entertained by that—Sam's four years and a handful of months younger than him, and it's Sam who's been going grey faster—but he never said anything about it because—well, it's just something, that's all. Sammy, with grey hair. He's so damn lucky to see it he can't really pull Sam's pigtails about it.

Everything else, though: fair game.

"Never have I ever?" Dean says, after who knows how long sitting in silence. They're on their second beers, anyway.

Sam huffs. "You're kidding," he says. He tips his head on his shoulder, looking sidelong at Dean in the dark. "Anyway, wouldn't you just get… trashed, at that game? You've done everything, right?"

"Very much underselling your weird kinky shit, brother mine," Dean says. Sam's eyebrows jump and Dean's stomach rushes hot, in a way he didn't expect, even if he's been halfway thinking, all day, about how they were going to get here. "Try this: never have I ever… ate out a chick during shark week."

Sam half-scoffs, weak. Dean raises his eyebrows back, and Sam says, "Seriously?"

Dean spreads a hand, expansive, and Sam says, quiet, "This is so stupid," but then, because Dean knows his brother very well indeed, Sam takes a drink, and Dean says "Ha!" out loud and shoves Sam's shoulder, and then says, after a second's thinking, "Dude, seriously?"

"It's just blood," he says, and it's not exactly defensive but there's a shard of it buried somewhere in there. Dean laughs, half-surprised and half-not. "Not like we don't deal with it every day. You should broaden your horizons."

"Oh, my horizons are plenty broad," Dean says. It's bubbling in his chest, now, ready to come out. This is stupid—"This is stupid," Sam says, out loud—and teenage, and dumb, but he feels… "Come on, your turn," he says, and Sam lets out this long exasperated sigh, but even in the moonlight Dean can see that he's smiling, and Sam says: "Okay, fine: never have I ever had a threesome."

Dean sits up straighter. "What, seriously?" he says, derailed, and Sam shrugs, and of course Dean has to take a drink because Sam knows that Dean—and then it's on, really.

Dancing on the edge. The things they know about each other, the things they might could guess. Dean kills his last beer on never have I ever had sex in a movie theater, and he tells Sam after that that he needs to live more, and Sam smiles at him kind of bitchy and then says, "Hang on, stay here," and Sam gets up and half-jogs away, disappears down the recessed hidden driveway that leads to the garage, and Dean sets his bottle down among the empties and rubs his palms over his thighs, letting the warm denim scratch him up, taking a deep breath. It feels too big to say. Even if he's sure. It's too big to even be true, if it's…

Sam comes back, quick, like he ran the whole way. He has two more beers and the bottle of bourbon they bought today tucked under his arm. "Okay, sucker," he says, handing Dean an open bottle and plumping back down on the bench. Their thighs are solid together. He clinks his bottle with Dean, setting the bourbon down at their feet. "Never have I ever…" He licks his lips, shine in the dark. "Slept with a demon."

Dean blinks. He takes a breath. "I don’t think that's how you're supposed to play," he says, and Sam bites his lips between his teeth and shrugs. Maybe he's a little tipsier than he seems, even if they're only three beers down. Sam takes a drink, quick, but his eyes are focused on Dean's face, the moon a little behind his shoulder, and Dean bites the inside of his cheek but drinks, too, and Sam lets out this quick short breath that—Dean doesn't know, what that means. He feels caught at something.

"Did you—" Sam starts, and cuts off. Quiet, for a second. Dean's cheeks feel hot. "I didn't mean… I meant on Earth, not in…" Awkward. The air goes out of Dean, realizing that Sam's trying to give him an out.

"Me too," he says, voice weird in this way he could be embarrassed by but—he isn't, and Sam's face turns away, and even with full moonlight Dean can't tell what that expression is.

He puts his beer down. "Never have I ever slept with a vampire," he says.

Sam's chin ducks down. Dean licks his lips and folds his hands between his knees. Sam puts his beer down, too, and braces on the edge of bench. There's barely enough room between them for his hand to fit; his knuckle presses against Dean's thigh and Dean licks his lips.

"Never have I…" Sam shakes his head, huffs. He looks up, out at the empty farmland spilling out from the back of the plant. His eyes shine, open, though Dean doesn't know what he's looking at. "I've never slept with a guy. On Earth, I haven't."

Dean bites the wet off his bottom lip, dragging, and then ducks down and gets the bourbon instead. Twist of the cap and a glug goes down—christ, hot. He coughs. "I hate the cask strength shit," he says, and Sam says, "Wuss," thin, and Dean could bicker back but it's here. Here. All this stuff he didn't know Sam was thinking about—things Dean kept secret, and things he didn't—and he didn't mean to dredge it all up at once but maybe it's better. Like this, in the dark. The night warm, smelling like grass and the weeds growing up among the fallow field, and Sam's knuckles still pressed up right there, where if Dean put his hand down he'd cover them.

"Do you remember that time in, uh," Dean starts. Swerving around the mountain, the long way through the dark. Sam's head turns towards his, a little. "Montana, I guess it was. Somewhere. You were… seventeen. That July. You got so wasted."

"Whose fault was that?" Sam says. Dean grins, makes sure it's wide and wicked, and Sam glances up at him and huffs again, more of a laugh this time than whatever the last one was. "That was when we invented beer bowling."

"Yeah, and you sucked," Dean says, and Sam shakes his head and leans back against the plant wall, tipping his head back to look at the stars. They did play, ten-pin with glass shattering because the only ball they had was a half-rounded rock. Then they sat out with Sam tipsy and Dean getting that way himself, only twenty-one and not quite as sure of what he was doing as he is now, and they just… talked. He can't even remember about what. They just sat and they were together and it was about the happiest Dean was that whole year. Like if he could just have that, forever, things would be okay. That was… god, twenty years ago.

"One more round," Dean says, now. Sam's eyes close. Dean leans the bottle on Sam's thigh so he can feel it. "Never have I ever kissed you."

Sam's eyes pop wide when Dean picks up the bottle, and takes a drink. He sits up straighter. Dean lets the burn of the swallow go all the way to his stomach, a bonfire there, and watches Sam's face as the thoughts flicker across it, limned in moonlight. Sam opens his mouth, and closes it, and he's not mad just like Dean knew he wouldn't be mad but it's still enough of a relief that Dean tips the bottle his way, says, "Technically, you did too, so—"

Sam takes it out of his hand but doesn't drink. "No, we didn't. When?"

Dean wipes his mouth, dragging his hand over his chin, and down. Sam's watching him. "After the second trial," he says, finally. Sam frowns. "Your fever was pretty bad. You kept talking about…" He shakes his head. All sorts of things Dean doesn't like remembering. About worth, and right, and being clean. Nonsense, as far as Dean was concerned, though he didn't know how to say it that way, then. With how it was. Instead he leans back against the wall and says, because it's true, and he can say it now: "I just wanted to… I guess, to prove something. How I didn't think of what you were saying the same way you did. How I didn't believe all that crap you were saying about yourself. It was bad and I didn't want you to believe it, either, and I didn't really know how else to… You didn't remember, though, so I guess it didn't do the trick. To be honest, thought I was a better kisser."

Sam doesn't smile. It was a pretty weak attempt. He stares at Dean, and Dean lifts a shoulder.

How it was, then. In the hotel, where Metatron was staying. When he found Sam on the floor and about had a heart attack. Sam's skin burning and ice-cold by turns. His body this huge out of control thing, being taken over by something Dean didn't understand. He woke up while Dean was trying to drag him to the bath, but he wasn't really conscious, hardly making sense. Babbling, half-frantic, trying to make Dean understand—how it was okay, how it was fine if he burned, if somehow the trials scoured the marrow out of his bones, because it was just right after all he'd done and all he hadn't, and it was a use for him, when he hadn't been worth anything in so long. Dean had told him no, over and over, and no again, and he'd slapped Sam at some point to get him to shut up, to try to shock him out of the awful monologue, but Sam didn't even register it, clinging to Dean's shirt while the tub filled, the sack of ice Dean had brought bobbing to the surface. It can mean something, Sam had said, nodding, tears in his eyes, trying to smile, and Dean wanted to throw a chair through the window but he grabbed Sam's face instead and he said it does and Sam shook his head, confused, and Dean leaned in against him, ready to cry too, and instead he…

"I thought," Sam starts, and immediately stops. His hands twist around the bourbon bottle. "I dreamed that."

Dean thinks of a joke to make, something about Snow White, but he keeps his mouth shut. He remembers it, clearly. Sam's mouth, hot and dry against his own. His hands clenched in Dean's shirt, and on the side of his neck. Weak and strong at once. If Sam dreamed it, what does he remember?

Sam looks down at the bottle for almost a minute, Dean counting it away with beats of his heart. A breeze picks up, light and warm. A cricket, somewhere, chirping and then going quiet. It could feel bad but it doesn't. It could be terrifying, but it's just—Sam, and him. Like always. Like it will be, always. He knows that, now. No matter what.

Sam smiles, eventually, for no reason Dean can tell. He wipes his thumb over the rim of the bottle and then takes a drink, two long swallows that are loud as they go down, and then he takes the bottle away from his mouth and puts his hand on Dean's jaw and leans in and kisses him. Brief, hot. Not dry. His mouth tastes like bourbon. It tastes just like Dean's.

Sam leans back. Dean takes a deep breath. Sam looks at him, very close, and Dean puts his hand on the side of Sam's neck, his fingers sliding into Sam's hair, and Sam's lips quirk and he nods and Dean leans in and kisses him, again, slower, pressing in soft with his lip plush against Sam's, tipping to make it good, and his jaw's cupped in both big mitts and Sam opens for him and it's…

He pulls away eventually. He must have been breathing, during, but he hardly sees how. Sam kisses the corner of his mouth, weirdly sweet, and his hands drag down to Dean's chest before he pushes back, blinking. "You better remember that one," Dean says, and Sam smiles briefly, but shakes his head, not letting them off the hook.

"I didn't…" What goes there? Dean could guess but he doesn't want to. Sam's thoughtful now, but his hand's on Dean's forearm, because Dean's hand is—oh, still locked there on the side of Sam's neck, holding on. Sam's still, doesn't seem to mind, and Dean lets his thumb brush over Sam's stubble. Familiar. The world new, and not-new.

Sam squeezes his arm. "Did you start the stupid game just to say that line?" Dean shrugs. Sam rolls his eyes, and detaches Dean's hand from his neck, and stands, but pulls Dean up at the same time, and this time when he kisses Dean it's—full, real, Sam holding him close and Dean lifting his face up for it and Sam getting an arm around his shoulders and Dean pressing his mouth open, just a little, licking Sam's top lip and getting a slow, deep inhale where Sam's close enough that he can feel it.

"Sammy," Dean says, and maybe there's more to say. More that should be said, if this is what—but Sam shakes his head, and says, "Come on," and scoops up the bourbon and his empty beers, and so Dean scoops his up, too, and follows Sam around the plant and down the stairs to the bunker and to the kitchen, where they drop the bottles in a rattle of glass into the recycle bin Sam insisted they get, and then Sam looks at him in the light, his hair a little rucked-up at the back from where Dean was messing with it and his mouth a little pink and his expression just… considering, open, honest, and Dean looks back, not trying to hide a thing. How can he? It's Sam.

*

In the morning, Dean wakes up slow, alone in his room. He has a shower, taking his time, and wraps up in his robe, and comes into the kitchen to find coffee made but no breakfast, and he pours a cup and thinks about eggs, or maybe waffles if he wants to wrestle that ancient cast-iron waffle pan down from the top of the shelf, and he's thinking mainly about the food but he's also thinking, of course, about Sam, and it's only about five minutes of him standing there with his hip against the kitchen island before the door creaks, distant, and then—Sam, in the doorway, shining with sweat.

Dean's stomach flips, very slightly. It's just Sam, soaked and gross after a run. It's every morning, like the last, except, of course—

Sam hesitates for just a second. His mouth turns up at one corner, a little rueful, and then he comes in and grabs his metal bottle from the fridge, and gulps water. Dean turns to watch him, coffee warm in both hands, and when Sam's done he leans against the fridge, breathing deep, and then says, "I don't know, it feels like it should be weirder," like he's continuing a conversation they were in the middle of without interruption.

"Nothing weird about being hot for my bod," Dean says, calm, and Sam snorts. He looks at Dean sidelong, and then turns and really looks at him. Looks, from Dean's mouth to his slippered feet, and it's not much of a view in the robe but Dean spreads his arms out, anyway, and Sam bites his bottom lip, half-smiling. Dean sets his coffee on the island, runs his thumb along the lipstick-red rim. "You know," he says. "It doesn't ever have to be more than this. Just… how we've got it. It's good, now."

"It is," Sam says, easy. He twists the cap back on to his bottle, sets it on the counter, and folds his arms over his chest, and he's still just looking but Dean feels, now, the difference in it. It's just Sam but it's also… maybe a new part, a Sam that Dean didn't really get before, and the consideration there, the curiosity, the attention, it's… He tilts his head back, looks at Sam right back. Sam smiles.

Last night they did nothing more than kiss. Dean stepped close in the kitchen and tipped his head up and Sam met him, one more time, and it was soft and a little strange and a little new, but it felt right, in a way that's been full in Dean's chest, from the first moment of Sam's hand on his face to—well, it hasn't gone away.

"I was thinking I'd make waffles," Dean says, still buoyed in it. "You want one or two?"

"Two," Sam says, and Dean nods, and Sam gets the pan down—showing off, tall bastard—and then goes off to shower, and Dean mixes up the batter and butters the pan and pours in the mix and watches for when the steam stops, eyes on the cast iron but his thoughts around the corner of two hallways and down a few doors, and when he's got four waffles stacked on two plates and he's wondering if he's gonna need to send in a rescue team, Sam comes back into the kitchen with wet hair and says, "I'm going to run a marathon," and Dean blinks at him, entirely derailed, and says, "What?"

A marathon. Apparently Sam's been thinking about it for a while. His runs, he says, in the morning, are usually five miles, but he's been running a little longer each time, and he's at seven now without much worrying about the extra distance. He wants to go the whole way. See if he can do it, he says.

Dean's busy smearing as much butter as he can feasibly fit into the squares of his waffle, but he gives Sam a look. "If I can, he says," Dean mutters, and maybe it's against usual policy to give Sam full credit but it gets a surprised blink and then Sam looking down at his own syrup-free plate with a soft curve to his mouth, so—worth it. Dean cuts a four-square bite and pauses, watching the melty puddles form on the plate. "So, what. Are you going to enter one of those city things? Am I gonna have to drive along the route with Gatorade and applaud from the sidelines? Are you dressing up as a moose for charity?"

Sam shakes his head. "I can donate to charity on my own time," he says, although to be honest Dean's now taken with the moose idea. Sam sees him thinking about it and rolls his eyes. "No. But—I can figure out a route with my phone. Just around here. Anyway, it can't hurt, for the job."

"Yeah, I'll let you chase down the next werewolf," Dean says, shaking his head. Marathons. His brother.

They finish eating about the same time. Sam sips at his coffee while Dean sucks maple from his thumb. "You want to find a job," Dean says, while Sam's piling their forks and plates together, "or do you want to go for another jog? Gotta get up to twenty-six miles somehow."

"Twenty-six point two," Sam says, standing up with the dishes in hand, and then he leans over and brushes Dean's thumb away from his mouth and kisses him, again, and Dean grips the edge of the table and Sam's shoulder, his mouth pushed open on Sam's tongue, sliding in easy like he's got the run of the place and doesn't expect an ounce of resistance. Fair enough. Dean tips his head back and tastes Sam, syrup-and-coffee, and when Sam pulls back his eyes are half-closed and he licks his lips, and his eyes drop to Dean's mouth.

"Weird?" Dean says.

"Should be," Sam says, quieter, but he stands up, and lets his thumb drag over Dean's jaw before he steps away, to the sink, and he doesn't say anything more when he puts the dishes in and stands there with hands braced on the edge for—ten seconds, twenty, thirty—before he turns the water on.

Dean could say something but there's nothing to say. It's weird. It's not. That it's not is weirder. He gets up, refreshes his coffee with the hot from the pot, says, "I'll look for a job," and goes to the library, and lets Sam think, with his hands in soapy water, and quiet to do it in.

There are odd stories—news of the weird never fails to deliver—but nothing so pressing as to drag them across the country on an urgent mission. Dean doesn't feel the need to fake anything, either, to yank out of the bunker on a long drive of not talking through the night and too-loud music and burying their thoughts into means/motive/monstrous opportunity. He sends some links to Sam's email and goes and finds clothes instead, finally, and figures—well, today's a day off. He changes the Impala's oil, washes her. Goes through the trunk, sitting on a stool dragged over from the garage's weird little office, and makes notes of what they're out of, what needs replaced. More salt. More holy oil. Or—not more holy oil, since they haven't seen hide or nor hair of angel or demon in weeks and weeks and maybe never again, and he sits, then, with the empty flask turning over and over in his hands, looking into the trunk, thinking about—how the world is, now. How there's downtime. How, incredibly, there are marathons to run.

In the library, later, Sam's reading on his laptop. "That thing in Pierre might be something," he says, without preamble, and Dean nods—it could be—but then Sam says, "I sent it to Jody, to see if she and the girls want to take a look."

Dean sets the empty flask on the table. Sam's eyes barely flick to it. "What are we gonna do, then?" he says, and Sam sits back in his chair, laptop lid half-closed. He half-smiles, looking down at nothing, and then he looks up at Dean again.

They sleep together that night. Nothing complicated. Dean's room, and the lamps all off but the one over on the table by the door, so Sam's half-haloed in amber light this time, instead of the white moon. Dean's shirt comes off but Sam's stays on, and they're still in their socks, and Sam leans over Dean on one elbow, touching his chest, curious. It's not romantic, or urgent, but Dean keeps smiling, and Sam finally catches him at it and whispers, "Shut up," and kisses him when he opens his mouth to protest that he wasn't saying anything. While they're necking Dean gets Sam's jeans open, and slides his hand inside, and Sam bites his lip but he's half-hard, and gets harder while Dean learns the shape of him. Sam rocks a warm palm over where Dean's swelling up and Dean rips at his own belt, unzips, and then rolls them over so Sam's on his back, and Sam grips his hips, looking up, his hair loose on the pillow and his face just…

After, Dean wipes his hand on Sam's shirt. "Dick," Sam says, and Dean says, "Hey, it was already a disaster, I just added to the general—" and Sam rolls his eyes and nudges Dean off, and pulls the shirt over his head, tugging it off careful from the back. Dean rolls onto his side, looking. Sam's shoulders, and his back. Muscle and, miraculously, no scars. His skin that same all-over bronze, like he's immune somehow to farmer tan. Sam tosses the shirt in the same vague direction that Dean's went and then looks over his shoulder, finds Dean looking. Half-smiles. He lays back, his head on the pillow, and tucks a hand underneath it, looking up at the ceiling. Dean just keeps looking at Sam.

"It should be weird," Sam says, after a second.

"It's a little weird," Dean says. Sam snorts, one corner of his mouth turning up. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

Sam's head tips, on the pillow. He looks into Dean's eyes, then at his lips. He reaches over and presses his thumb against Dean's bottom lip, and Dean lets Sam dent it, pulling, and then he flicks his tongue against Sam's skin. Faint salt, faint bitter. Sam drags his thumb down, wet trail over Dean's chin, and then settles his hand on Dean's chest.

This. This is weird. Sam looking at him, quiet. Sweat's still drying in the middle of Dean's back and he has the sense of what it feels like to have his brother's hand on his dick full in his head. The body part, though, that—matters, of course it matters, but it feels secondary to Sam just... fully present. That they're both in the same weird, weird boat, and that it could go on like this forever, and it wouldn't change a thing.

"I don't want to wonder about it anymore," Dean says. He gets his hand on Sam's wrist, squeezes. "There's—I don't know, man. There's a bunch of crap we should probably be talking about, freaking about. But it's…"

"Beside the point?" Sam offers, and Dean nods. That's it. Sam nods, too, and closes his eyes, and maybe that makes it easier.

Dean closes his, too, and it's just the amber-colored haze of dark, and the kinda-too-warm of the bed, and his hand sticky and needing to be washed, and vaguely wanting a shower. And he's an adult, and he's fucked before, and so it's also that one article about that disappearance in Winston-Salem that he's been half-thinking about all day, wondering if there's more—and then remembering that they're out of milk—and then, when Sam's thumb drags over his pec, under his nipple, the vague jolt of: Sam, and maybe that should be all that fills his head but Sam suffuses every other thought. Dean can't make any more room in himself than he already has.

"Did that woman in North Carolina disappear at night?" Sam says, after another minute.

Dean's eyes fly open. "Shit," he says, to Sam's frown, and they sit up at the same time, and then—it's them, and the job, and nothing's really, in the end, that different.

*

Sam keeps running. He tracks his step count with an app, figures out mile by mile how far he can push it, how fast he can go. Dean goes into Lebanon by himself one day, hitting the post office and the market and just getting some air, and then he rolls to a stop at the single stop sign and checks his odometer, and then drives—a square, basically, twenty-six miles around the farm-fields both worked and fallow, and he imagines what it would be like to run the whole way. He's run for his life, and he's run for the lives of others, but just to do it for himself—no. He gets Sam, most every way, but this one is gonna stay a mystery, he thinks.

"What took so long?" Sam says, when he gets home.

The milk's still mostly-cold. "Estelle wouldn't stop hitting on me, man," Dean says, hauling in his half of the load, and Sam rolls his eyes, and Dean slots the barely-frozen pizza into the freezer and stocks the eggs into their holder and then, when Sam's done putting the cans onto their spot on the shelf, tugs at Sam's belt-loop and gets Sam surprised and then leans up and kisses him, pressing him against the dry goods, and Sam kisses back good and pleased and open and then, when Dean sets back down on his heels, touches the back of Dean's ear and murmurs, soft, "If I knew angry old ladies got you hot I would have tried something different, last night," and gets Dean laughing, unexpected, tucked into the corner of their kitchen.

They've been slow with each other. Dean has more experience but he didn't realize how much more. Sam's not uncertain, not nervous—incredible, how not-nervous Sam is, and Dean got finger-shaped bruises on his triceps one day when Sam just held him down and kissed and kissed and kissed him, body-confident and knowing, smiling pleased and half-smug when he pulled back and Dean was nearly dazed with wanting him. Little shit. Still: Sam's not a virgin, not by half, but he was being honest when he said he'd never screwed a guy—on Earth, that is, and Dean knows exactly what he meant by that qualification, and it was a very very brief conversation afterward ("It doesn't count," Sam had said, firm and honest there too, and Dean had nodded because, after everything, he trusts Sam to be honest), and they left it at that.

It's Sam who brings up more. Dean's content to follow. It's Sam who gets Dean's jeans open one night, petting at the base of his dick and sliding down to cup his balls, long fingers and big broad palm, and it's good but it's Sam who hmms, and then says, "Mind if I—" and crawls backwards down the bed—Sam's bed, the mattress tipping with Sam's weight—and Sam who bolsters Dean's dick up out of the split of his fly and breathes there, eyes flicking up the length of Dean's body where he's propped on his elbows, briefly dazed. "Go ahead," Dean says, voice coming from somewhere approximately at the center of the earth, and Sam snorts, and fists Dean capably from root to tip, and then leans in and licks, flat and deliberate up the spine of it, a wet warmth that shocks in Dean's thighs and between his shoulders and sparking in his hands, making him fist into the blanket. Sam's eyes are closed, like he's concentrating. Dean tips his knee out wide and touches Sam's cheek, and Sam's mouth tips up at the corners, and he shifts forward and takes the head in his mouth and—oh, that. He doesn't quite know how to get his mouth around it at first but he figures it out quick, and he sucks the tip and licks under the crown and fists the rest and when Dean's close, clenching, Dean says, "Come up here," and Sam opens his eyes after who knows how long and they're black, practically, and he crawls up over Dean's body still jerking and Dean kisses him, licks the taste of himself out, and Sam breathes hot into his mouth and groans when Dean comes, looking down at the spill over his fist, and he says, "Fuck, that's good," rough and true. Dean pants through it for a few selfish seconds before he squirms down to return the favor, and Sam's mostly-hard just from sucking Dean, and he's weirdly a gentleman when Dean goes down on him, hands off and careful until Dean lifts off, gulping, and says, "Like you mean it, dude," and Sam laughs and then grips him and that's how they learn that Sam likes dick just fine, in fact, and that Dean likes even more how much Sam likes it.

Sam runs farther. Dean paces him, one day, when they fell asleep in the same bed and mostly managed to sleep through the night together, except for some moment around three a.m. when Sam kicked too hard and Dean threatened blurrily to murder him or dump him out of the bed, one or the other—and way too early after that, Sam nudged him awake, lacing up his running shoes, said, "Come on," and Dean groaned and pulled the pillow over his head and then, well, he came on.

Seven in the morning, autumn settling over the farms. Cold enough that Sam's breath fogs and Dean rubs his hands together, sitting in the idling car with the window down while Sam stretches his hamstrings. "You look ridiculous," Dean says, just to say something. Sam ignores him, of course. "How far are we going?" he says, instead, and Sam says, "Thirteen," and Dean checks the odometer and says, "Okay, Speedy Gonzalez, you just say—" and Sam says, "Go," and takes off, and Dean rolls his eyes and lets off the brake, and the Impala rolls forward, chasing Sam down the farm road, the sun glinting behind them so the whole damp stretch of gravel sparks silver. Nine miles per hour is the pace Sam asked for and Dean keeps it going, on the far side of the road while Sam lopes along on the left shoulder, and it's boring but not as boring as he thought it would be. He keeps an eye on the speedometer, makes the turns just behind Sam as the roads weave around the cornfields, the soy beans, the farm that's just gone to dead-dry grass that waves in undulating strange patterns in the morning breeze. He goes through Zepp one side one, side two, switches to AC/DC and cranks it during Big Balls so loud that a bird startles up out of the bushes by the road, and Sam laughs, coughs, keeps running. His pace doesn't slow, not by a step.

Sam stops, finally. An hour and a half, and Dean has to piss. He parks, turns off the car, while Sam breathes hard with his hands on his knees. "How was that?" Dean says, and Sam shakes his head, still panting, and Dean can't wait any longer and goes over to the other side of the fence post and communes with the morning.

"Dude," Sam says, vaguely accusatory, but Dean only shrugs, and zips up when he's done. When he turns back around Sam's leaning on the car, sweat slicking his hair back behind his ears, and Dean raises his eyebrows and Sam shrugs. "That was good," he admits, finally. He's drinking the water bottle Dean's had sitting in the passenger seat the whole time. "Too fast to go the full twenty-six, but—yeah. Good."

He looks—content, again. Not smug, not even really glad. He pushes his sleeves up to his elbows, leans back against the car. Looks out over the little pond, the trees around it. Dean smiles, while Sam isn't looking, and then says, "Well, I left my gold medals at home, but if you want you can run back and get it—" and Sam rolls his eyes, and gets into the passenger side, and Dean gets to fake-bitch then about Sam's stinky sweaty ass on the vinyl, and it's a good morning, like they all are, anymore.

On the way home from a hunt—Ajo, Arizona, and vampires, in what Dean insists is the most ironic job they've ever been on—Sam has Dean stop at a drugstore. Two in the afternoon. Dean heads for the booze aisle and gets a six pack, and swings through the specialty candy and gets some pre-Christmas stocking filler, and then he walks around the aisles looking for Sam, and finds him in—

"Condoms?" he says. Sam glances up at him, holding a box, unfazed. Dean feels the black orb eye of the security camera on the back of his neck and feels—surreal. He tips his head. "I mean, not to go all sex-ed, but it's a little late, don't you think?"

Sam snorts. In lieu of responding he turns the box around in his hand and—not condoms. Astroglide. Dean licks the corner of his mouth and watches an old lady go by with her little cart on the far end of the aisle. "Yeah?" he says, and Sam lifts a shoulder, says, "You have a preference?"

Long time since Dean's had to think about it. He hitches the six-pack onto his other hip and comes and stands next to Sam, looking at the options. Fire & ice, spermicidal. Water-based. Sam's radiating heat, enough to feel six inches away, and Dean thinks about Sam thinking about this: driving through the cold desert, both of them tired after a night of chasing down the vamps, planning to crash in Amarillo. A motel, in Amarillo. He feels boring, normal. Shopping, with a bag of red-and-green Kisses in hand, and the wall of intensely pink pads and tampons looming at his back, and his—brother, waiting, while Dean reaches for the silicone-based KY he used to buy, when he used to have to buy it. The packaging's different but he's guessing the product's the same. He puts it in Sam's hand and Sam looks at it with his cheek sucked in on one side, and then Dean says, "You want something with, I don’t know, electrolytes?" and Sam says, "Yeah," and so Dean goes back to the wall of coolers and pulls out two Powerades, and Sam meets him at the cashier with rolled bandages and aspirin to replace what they used up out of the kit during this hunt, and the woman at the counter glances at their faces as she's ringing them up and Dean says, smiling, "Can I get a two-pack of lighters, too, miss?" and she's like seventy if she's a day but the charm offensive still works, and she's over-the-top as she hands them their receipt and tells them to be well, and Sam's giving him a sidelong look as they take the bags out to the car but, shit, Dean's had enough people giving him looks in his life, and Sam gets to but just about no one else does, now.

A motel, in Amarillo. Raining in west Texas like it never does. They get tacos and margaritas at a hole in the wall and it's still early, when they get back to the room, and Sam checks the stitches on Dean's shoulder—still holding—and Sam takes two aspirins to help with all the bruising on his side, and then Dean eats a Kiss from the mess of the Walgreens bag, and then he tosses the box holding the lube onto the closer bed, and he says, "So," and Sam shrugs, and says, again, "You have a preference?"

Shadow of a smile on his face. Dean gives him a look and Sam raises his eyebrows, all innocence, and Dean says, "You're a dumbass," and goes over and pulls Sam in by that godawful orange jacket and kisses him, and then he goes into the bathroom.

He takes his time. Showers, cleaning up. Leans his forearm against the wall and leans his head against his forearm and pushes his fingers inside, on the thin glide of the little complimentary bottle of conditioner, reminding his body that this is—yeah. This is good. He comes out with a towel loose around his waist and finds Sam mostly-stripped, leaning back on the bed with the TV on mute and his hand in his boxers. Dean glances at the screen—ESPN, showing basketball highlights—and says, "Jeez, you got a kink you haven't told me?" while Sam snaps the TV off, and Sam says, flushed, "Not my fault you took forever," and Dean says, frank, "Figured you wouldn't want any Mr. Hanky guest appearances on our first trip on the backroads, but if you'd rather—" and Sam says, "Jesus, Dean," and Dean grins like an asshole, and Sam rolls his eyes, and—

Sam's screwed women like this before, turns out, and knows to go slow. Dean's on his back, his one leg caught over Sam's arm and the other curled around Sam's hip, and he's not sure slow is slow enough. "Fuck," he says, grinding his head back against the pillow, and Sam kisses his jaw, murmurs, "Sorry," and Dean grips his shoulders and says, through a groan, "No, you're not," and Sam smiles against his skin. Dean knew it. Little shit.

Sam lifts up on one elbow, touches Dean's cheek. He drags his hips back, pushes in. Dean breathes shakily out and Sam's expression changes. "Is it—" he says, but thankfully doesn't ask the stupid question. He leans in, tilting Dean's hips to a new angle, and pushes again, and Dean drags a hand down Sam's chest, and Sam's watching his face, he knows, watching everything, learning him, figuring out what he likes, like he has with every new thing they've tried—probably cataloguing it on some insane chart, like he's been doing with the running—but just now, Dean doesn't care. He didn't realize how much he liked this, or how much he could. "God," he says, gripping Sam's hip, "go—" and Sam, thank christ, for once does what he's told.

Sam sucks him, to finish him off. When Dean's spent, Sam spits to the side, and then slides back up, kissing Dean's nipple and then the sweaty angle of his collarbone and his jaw and his cheekbone and the very end of his eyebrow, for some reason. "Freak," Dean sighs, content, and Sam cups his other cheek and says, "Back at you," quiet, and Dean tips his head in towards Sam's and breathes with him. Sam's mouth tastes like dick and it's a combo Dean is extremely fond of, but that's not, anymore, anything new. He reaches down and holds Sam's dick—still slick, because this is indeed the good lube—and half-hard, and sensitive apparently after doing its work, from how Sam hisses, and squeezes his forearm. Dean says, "If anyone gets to complain," and Sam lifts up then, and watches Dean's face while he slides a hand back between Dean's thighs, and presses gently. Dean bites the inside of his lip but lets Sam try it, and after a second Sam—slides a finger inside, where he's busted Dean open, and Dean lets his knee fall wide with the slick sting, and wonders. How much he could take, if Sam asked.

In the morning, Sam goes for a run. Dean stays very firmly in bed. "How'd it go, Romeo?" Dean says, drowsy in bed when Sam finally gets back, and Sam says, "You know that makes you Juliet?" but then, while Dean's frowning and trying to dredge up a comeback, he says, "Sixteen miles, mostly eight miles an hour, and I brought back coffee," and Dean lifts up enough to see the carrier on the table, steaming, and says, "You're forgiven for the Juliet thing."

He has Sam drive. He's feeling—hard to pinpoint, how he's feeling. Still cloudy, over Texas and then over Oklahoma, and Sam's driving a regular level of fast so they're going to get home around maybe dinnertime. He's thinking about steak—they could stop at that butcher in Smith Center—when Sam says, "Hey, let me ask," and Dean grunts, and Sam says, "What's it like?"

No guessing what he means. Dean says, "I mean, my ass is sore," and Sam rolls his eyes, and he's not being a dick about it or anything, and Dean thinks about how to answer. What's it like.

What came before doesn't matter, so much. They already talked about how only Earth counts, and that's true for a bunch of reasons, but on a physical level there's just no comparison. Even on Earth, though, this was different. What came before was mostly something Dean was okay with, either because he wanted it or because he needed it or because he had a job to do, and he's not someone who dwells on shit that could be different, and he doesn't really wish any of that was different. No point in it, and it doesn't bug him. It was always better, though, when he liked the person, and he got that sometimes, and when he got that it was… good, but. Maybe what he and Sam have isn't romance, isn't some big sweeping thing like from a movie—if Sam tried to sweep him off his feet, or vice versa, they'd probably just bicker and then fall over—but. But. What was it like?

He's been quiet too long. "It feels good," he says, honest. Lame, and Sam knows it, from how he glances across the seat. Random section of I-35, while Sam passes a semi. Dean watches the approaching road rather than look at Sam. "I don't know, man. Hard to describe. When you're with someone and you're figuring out what works, what makes the fireworks, that's the same from either side. But it's…"

Quiet, again. In the corner of his eye he can tell Sam looks at him, and he shifts his weight. His ass does hurt. Sam's got absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about, in the jockstrap department. That he can get used to; the weird feeling under his breastbone, this thing he's been carrying all morning, that's going to take a little longer, maybe.

"Jessica used to say she felt like she was taking care of me." Said—casual. Dean stares across the bench seat, can't help it, but Sam's just looking out at the road. One hand at ten, the other at about five thirty, his hair tucked behind his ear. His jaw clenching and then unclenching. "I don't know. I didn't get it—felt the other way around, to me—but I always… wondered, I guess."

Taking care? Maybe that's it. Dean finds he's holding his hand over the weird feeling in his chest and shakes his head. Last night: Sam's head bent next to his, Sam's chest against his, his back drenching sweat against the bed, his body loose-open finally to Sam's dick after so long of the punishing stretch. Sam's hips grinding in against his hard and low, and his arms around Sam's shoulders, and his eyes closed and just—taking, feeling the slick parted jolt and feeling Sam quicken and feeling, deep, in this jolted raw way, how Sam was getting close and Sam was winding tight and how Sam was coming, how he hitched and crushed in and breathed strange and didn't make any other sound but held Dean still and close and tight while he unloaded. With other men Dean was tired or sore or impatient, wanting his turn. Last night, he held Sam's shoulders and felt Sam's face duck in to his throat, and Sam's lips pressing there, and he put his fingers in Sam's hair and twined his leg around Sam's and wanted it to go on and on. Perfect.

"Guess you'll have to try it and find out," Dean says, after way too long.

Sam glances at him again, and pulls into the right lane, and settles in for the long drive. "Guess I will," he says, and he's watching the road, and so maybe doesn't notice the deep breath Dean takes, and lets out slow.

It turns out a marathon is not, in fact, twenty-six point two miles. "Technically," Sam says, while Dean's on his back under the Impala, "it's 26.21875 miles."

Dean rolls out on the bench to give that the incredulous look it deserves. On the stool, Sam shrugs. "Why," Dean says, "on earth, ever, would anyone care."

"It's the rules set by the competition," Sam says, and Dean rolls his eyes and slides back under the car. "It's just the length. Same reason a football field's a hundred yards."

"Isn't it the length of the run that Greek dude did?" Dean says, later, chopping up potatoes for salad. Sam looks surprised, but not as annoyingly surprised as he's looked other times. "Did the length of that change, somehow?"

"Dean," Sam says, patient, "I hate to say it, but I am not in charge of the rules committee for marathons. I'm sorry to disappoint."

During dinner Sam's doing math. 26.21875 isn't that much longer than 26.2. In March he did twenty-five miles in three hours and fifty-five minutes, looping back from the pond and then running way out to town and back again, and he's nearly there. "What's the difference between 385 and 352," he mutters, and Dean doesn't bother even attempting to work it out in his head before Sam says, "Thirty-three yards."

"Doesn't seem worth making a whole-ass rule about," Dean says, but Sam's just ignoring him at this point, probably looking at his dumb running spreadsheet, and that's fine. Thirty-three yards, Dean thinks.

There are weird old surveyor tools in one of the archive rooms. One morning when Sam's back from his run, soaking off the ache in the shower, Dean figures out how the hell to use the damn wheely thing, and he walks it off. He drags his boot in the dirt, right in front of the stairs down to the entrance, and then walks it out: ninety-nine feet, up the driveway, out to the gravel road. Almost exactly the length to the gate. Dean smiles, and walks back from the gate, and then marks ninety-nine feet precisely, with his boot and then with three stones, so he'll know.

Sam's planning for May 1. Dean doesn't ask why; he figures he can guess. They find a job, April 21, and it's a family of ghouls that's gross and shitty and time-consuming to put down, but they manage it on the seventh day, at least, so they don't overshoot the deadline. Sam sleeps in the passenger seat while Dean drives straight through all the way back from Pensacola. When they get back to the bunker it's two in the morning and Dean has to shake him awake, and he blinks in the barely-moonlight, and Dean has to say, "Up and at 'em, Sasquatch," for Sam to rouse, and Sam follows him down the stairs and into the bunker and through the dark halls and then, quiet, straight into Dean's bed, barely kicking off his boots and shrugging off his jacket before he curls over the pillow, sighing into the mattress. Dean stands at the foot of the bed, looking at him. Then he goes upstairs, and does the thing he's been thinking of doing for weeks, and when he finally gets back to bed he strips down to a t-shirt and boxers and slides in right up against Sam's back, and Sam doesn't wake up but he does make this tiny sound in his chest, when Dean's arm goes around him, and Dean sleeps, finally, like the dead.

Thursday's a slow day. Sam's not running again, apparently, until Saturday—he ran pretty flat-out a few times during the hunt, and Dean guesses that's probably training enough. Because he is, in fact, supportive, Dean makes food that Sam actually likes—chicken breast and broccoli and some stupid grain thing that he read was good for slow-release energy, and Sam says, "I didn't know you knew what farro was," which proves that in fact it's Sam who's the dickhead, but then Sam practically inhales all of it, so. Success. They watch Chariots of Fire so Dean can remember the stupid song, and Sam goes and does his weird yoga stretching after that, and then they sit together in the workroom and make silver rounds for a while, since Dean got a load of pawned shitty jewelry in and it's one of those chores that falls down the priority list when bullets are flying, and then when they've packed up the bullet boxes, and there's really nothing else left to do with the day, Sam stands up and stretches with his fingers reaching way up and his body arching, pulling long after the hunched work, and Dean's mouth goes wet, and he says, without much thinking about it, "Hey, Sam," and Sam says yeah without hardly paying attention, and Dean says, "I want to fuck you tonight."

Sam looks up at him. Dean lifts a shoulder and Sam takes a visible breath, and he says, "Smooth, Dean," but it's not a no.

Dean shaves, while he's waiting. He takes a whore's bath in his sink, and waits in his boxers just like Sam had, that first time, sitting on the little loveseat in his room. Sam comes back in a t-shirt and unzipped jeans and bare feet, his hair barely wet at the ends, and he frowns at first at the empty bed before he sees Dean, sitting, and Dean says, "Took you long enough," and Sam says, "Don't start."

He's not nervous. He lets Dean kiss him slow, though, laying together on the bed, and with Dean's hand in his jeans, and he's hard all the way and wet at the tip and a tight grip locked on Dean's hip before Dean finally slides his jeans down, feels. Damp, and a little soft, and small, and he rolls his hips back against Dean's thumb, making this deep sound in his chest. "How do you want it?" Dean says, and Sam shrugs and then laughs, shaking his head. "However," Sam says, honest, and Dean rolls his eyes and kisses him and then pulls his jeans all the way off while Sam pulls his shirt over his head, and Dean gets him on his knees, then, pulls his hips back, and applies his mouth to Sam's asshole, and that's not entirely new but Sam yelps, flinching, and Dean has to hook an arm around his hips and hold him in place to lick in deep, like he wants to.

"Tell me," Dean says, and Sam groans. He's reaching past Dean's arm, fisting his dick. His balls warm and heavy, and his body—open, yeah, from the shower, from prepping himself, from knowing how—from watching Dean do it, from doing it himself, sliding his fingers in and working the muscle soft and learning how it can be good. Sam's hips push back and Dean breathes out hot, ducks his head down, suckles one of Sam's nuts and then licks back up over the flattened-wet hair and the crinkle of his hole and scrapes his teeth over one asscheek, and Sam's hand reaches back and grips his shoulder and Sam says, deep, "Are you going to fuck me, or what," and Dean slides up, kisses between Sam's shoulderblades, presses his dick swelling up in his boxers against Sam's ass.

It'd be easier if he kept Sam on his knees. He turns him over instead, and Sam's—god, hot for it, his dick huge and curving up to his navel, his chest flushed in that deep way it gets when he's nearly ready to come, his eyes heavy. He props himself up on his elbows and watches Dean lube himself up, and when Dean slots a slick thumb inside Sam—still tight, christ—Sam's eyelids dip but he just pulls his knee higher, and reaches down and feels Dean's dick, fingers slipping over the head. He gathers his balls up out of the way while Dean pushes up between his legs, and he's watching down between them, avid, for the moment it happens. Dean watches Sam's face instead, and on the push inside—Sam's lips part, and his jaw loosens, and his breath stills, and his eyes—Dean pulls back an inch, slides in deeper, and Sam's face tips up and he meets Dean's stare, dragging in air, gripping Dean's thigh, arching. Dean gets a hand on Sam's jaw and holds him there, their noses brushing, and he feels it, the moment Sam's body ripples. How Sam lets him in.

Sam doesn't come from being fucked. Not that Dean expected him to. Dean holds his balls and kisses his jaw, his mouth, lets Sam bite his lips, while Sam jerks his own dick, and when Sam finally spills he groans, his thighs twitching around Dean's hips and his asshole rippling. Dean slides his hand up, following Sam's, squeezing and getting the wet over his own fingers, and finally his dick slides free from Sam's body. Sam says, low and surprised against his ear, ah, and Dean loves him, is all, and always has, and always will, and now is, really, no different.

"So," Dean says, much later. His head on Sam's shoulder, and Sam's fingers in his hair. "What's it like?"

He'd watched Sam clean up. His nose wrinkling as he wiped between his legs. Sam had said, "You like this?" and Dean had said, "The proof is in the pudding," and Sam had stared at him and then said, horrified, "Never talk again." He'd gone and got them both beers as repayment, and now those are gone, and they've cooled off but the bed's still kind of gross and smells like sweat and jizz and, honestly, Dean's about as comfortable as he ever is.

Sam's fingers go still in his hair. "Huh," he says, after a few seconds' thinking.

"Told you," Dean says.

Sam pulls, what little he can pull, at the top of Dean's head where he should really trim it up. "I'll think of something," he says, and Dean says, "Sure you will, Wordsworth," and Sam says, "I don't know why I thought this would make you less annoying," and Dean says, "It's a gift," but he's smiling, tipped in against Sam's side, and he can't see it but he'd bet that Sam is, too, or at least that Sam's got that dimple tucked into his cheek. Sam's hand spreads, cupping the back of Dean's head, and his mouth brushes Dean's temple. Yeah, Dean decides, warm. Dimple. Maybe two.

On Saturday, Sam goes for the run. His route's pretty simple. Looping west away from the bunker and back for thirteen miles; looping east and back for the other thirteen. The point two gets sorted out somewhere in there, as Dean understands it. He offered, a few months back, to pace Sam in the car if he wanted, and Sam looked surprised but then shook his head. "I'll be fine," he said, and Dean knows it's true. Still, he set out water at few-mile intervals—no one's out here, so unless a rabbit stole one of the stashes Sam should get the benefit—and Sam's pace is pretty damn consistent, so Dean knows when he'll hit the various markers, and knows when he'll be home, when it's done.

Sam stretches easily, on the stairs by the entrance. "If you twist your ankle a mile out, call me, but give me time to laugh," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, dropping his one foot and pulling up the other. "Do you want me to grab a pistol? Starting gun, or whatever?"

Sam shakes his head, and pulls out his phone. "See you in a few hours," he says, and presses a button, and takes off, and Dean watches him go, down the driveway, to the gate, and then turning and running from the morning sun. Nine a.m. Dean checks his watch, and says, "Okay," to no one, and goes back inside to at least do something with the morning.

An hour and fifty minutes later, Dean's leaning on the gate, drinking a beer, when Sam comes running back up the road. "Woo!" Dean calls, sort of sarcastic and sort of not, and Sam's breathing hard when he comes up but he steals the beer right out of Dean's hand, takes a few deep swallows. "Hey!" Dean says, and Sam shakes his head, burps abruptly, says, "Thanks for the water," and takes off again, and Dean checks his watch—right on time. Maybe faster. He finishes the beer, tasting Sam's salt on the rim, and then goes and sets up his minimal surprise.

He disassembled the bench those weeks back. Too heavy to move any other way. While Sam's completing the second half, Dean moves the pieces out of the side of the plant where he'd moved them, and puts the thing back together. Big concrete supports; concrete slab, that he about gets a hernia hauling back up into place. He's sweating, when it's done, but it's right at the end of the drive, just in front of his three-stone marker.

It's where he's sitting, forty minutes after noon, with a bottle of the whiskey Sam actually likes on the step, and two glasses waiting to be filled, and the sun coming down soft and easy, not yet hot or humid, not like it'll be later this summer. He stretches out his legs, propped on his arms, and watches down the lane while Sam comes around the corner again. Sweaty, tired, but keeping pace, and Dean doesn't mock or call out or say any of the dumbass shit he could say. Sam pulls out his phone, as he's running down, and Dean knows because he paced it exactly how many steps are left, exactly how far Sam has to go. Sam slows, as he's approaching the marker, and when his sneaker hits the stone he presses something on the phone and it beeps and he says, "Done," and takes a huge deep breath, panting.

He tips his head back on his shoulders, eyes closed. Dean watches him. His heaving chest, the sweat darkening his hair to black at the temples. His body.

"You set up a cheering section," Sam says, finally. "I'm touched."

Dimpling. Dean cracks the bottle, pours two glasses. "What can I say," he says, while Sam tips his head back down, tired. "I'm a fan."

"Sure you are," Sam says, tired. He sits down, finally, and takes his glass from Dean. Their shoulders together, and Sam's knee tipped against his. "Whiskey's probably the opposite of what you're supposed to have after a marathon."

"Well, good thing I'm not a stickler for the marathon rules," Dean says, holding his glass up to toast.

"Yeah," Sam says, smiling, "it is," and lets their glasses clink. They drink, quiet, looking out together at the warm day.

[hb-writes]

Just Because You Can Doesn’t Mean You Should

Summary: After a few rainy days stuck inside during spring break, the whole Cullen clan is feeling restless and resort to pranking to pass the time.

Featuring: Emmett Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, and Mia Cullen

-- It had rained for fifteen days straight in Forks, a parade of stubborn drizzles followed by steady downpours and carrying over into the week-long spring break. Mia didn't usually mind the rain, quite used to it giving her something to watch out the window when she didn't care for a teacher's lesson or the drops of it falling against her window and lulling her to sleep at night.

She usually enjoyed the impromptu breaks her family took from school, too, more than happy to roam the woods or sit out in the sun with a book while Forks High School held the impression that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had pulled the kids out of school for some outdoor activity. But being stuck inside while the school was closed for an endlessly rainy break had Mia feeling a little restless.

It had taken her only a day to finish her pending assignments, and just one more to completely rearrange her bedroom. She had actually grown tired of staring at things, her eyes fatigued by and bored with her laptop screen, books, and the view out her window. And she had grown tired of her siblings too, bored of their usual indoor pursuits and routines.

By day three, Mia had strayed to playing innocent pranks to pass the time—moving her siblings' things when they left the room and making failed attempts to sneak up on all of them, but most specifically Emmett, who'd first made a game of scaring her, wrapping the whole family up in it so that Mia could hardly go an hour without being snuck up on.

Because of that, her pride and joy in regards to the pranks had been the alterations she made to Emmett's jeep, a prank she entered into knowing it would likely be an act of delayed gratification, not like the hiding of frequently needed items or the botched pop up scares. Emmett had no need to take a vehicle out any time soon. If he was going anywhere, he was more likely to run, and once school was back in session, they would be more likely to take Edward's car. Mia knew she could be waiting weeks for any sort of acknowledgement.

She was willing to wait though, the mere recollection of all she had done sufficient enough to get her through Emmett continuing to scare her over and over. She’d done a few things to his jeep, easy stuff like rearranging the mirrors and seats, and adjusting the radio volume to its maximum, and changing the station to the local one that favored heavy metal. But all of that was mostly a distraction because Mia was far more proud of the collection of nuts and bolts in tin cans duct-taped under his seats and inside the spare tire set on the back to the jeep. The whole vehicle would be rattling if he hit a bump or tapped the break, two things she assumed Emmett would encounter before even making it out of the driveway. 

Mia wasn’t usually one for such targeted and premeditated pranks, but Emmett had made a sport of scaring Mia over their week of near-confinement, and she felt he deserved something beyond the standard prank. So when the opportunity arose, with her siblings out for a hunt, her father at the hospital, and her mother occupied with some project in her studio, Mia took her opportunity. 

She knew Emmett would discover the rattle was no more than a prank after he asked Rose to take a look at it, but she still giggled to herself imagining what would happen when he finally brought himself to ask for Rose’s help and then she laughed once again imagining the look on Rose’s face as she held up one of the offending cans. Emmett was clueless when it came to cars. Completely clueless.

But she had only had to wait a few days because Rose had decided she wanted to go on a date, and Emmett insisted on driving, insisted on getting dressed up, and settling himself down on the couch beside Mia while he waited for Rose to finish getting ready.

Had Mia realized they would be taking Emmett's vehicle, she wouldn't have stayed in such a vulnerable position, lounging there on the couch. She would have put some more distance between herself and her siblings, and a locked door, perhaps. She would have prepared herself a bit better to feign ignorance.

But as she had been caught off guard, she hadn't been prepared to fight when Rose stomped back through the front door with Emmett following in her wake. Rose had barely spared her a glance, the can rattling in her hand as she continued straight up the stairs.

And though it all clicked very suddenly that she was about to be told on, Mia couldn't scramble fast enough because it seemed to happen too quickly that Emmett had plucked her off the couch and was placing her down in Carlisle's office, less than two steps away from a seething Rose.

To Rose's dismay, there hadn't been any true repercussions for the prank aside from Carlisle's request that Mia issue a genuine apology and an acknowledgment that cars were not something to be messed with. Mia had laid low for a few days anyhow, avoiding Emmett and Rose, and even her father, to the best of her ability, which was why Mia had settled in for a day of self-care, feeling she’d earned an afternoon of soothing teas and good music and moisturizing skincare and nail painting after all of the effort put into pranking and the hassle of being found out. 

With the rain and the music and her own voice filling her ears, Mia didn’t hear Emmett push her door open or tread across her bedroom floor. Had he been a human of his proportions, he’d not be able to sneak up on her, but as it was, Emmett was stealthy whenever he wished to be, able to take unassuming and delicate steps despite his size. 

“Boo.”

The word was barely above a whisper and Mia stumbled and let out a scream, startled just as much by the hushed remark as she was by the quick rush of breath near her ear and the hands that grasped her before she fell. 

“EMMETT!” she shouted, pushing at his hold and groaning once he settled her back on her feet. 

He reached over to turn down the music, laughing. “You’re too easy, kid.”

“And you’re a stupid jerk,” Mia ground out, shoving against his solid chest with all her might only for him to stand there unaffected, chest puffed out and smiling down at her. “You scared me!”

“Same here,” he said, gesturing towards the green clay mask on her face. “Got a bit of a Wicked Witch of the West thing going on there.” 

Mia’s rolled her eyes. “Actually, I was channeling my idiot older brother.”

“Ah, so Yoda, then?” Emmett smirked. “What an honor.” 

“Hulk,” she offered. “You know, the incomprehensible behemoth with no self-control?”

Mia stepped away from him, heading towards the bathroom to rinse her face and Emmett appeared before her once again, another scream coming from her lips. 

“Stop doing that!” 

“I’m sure you’ve done something to earn it,” he answered, “just haven’t figured out what yet.”

“I’ve been up here all day, Em.” 

“Yeah, and unfortunately your voice carries. Sounds like you’re drowning cats up here.” Emmett turned to glance in the open bathroom door and Mia smacked him on the arm. 

“I’m going to tell Dad if—” 

“Speaking of Carlisle, he wants to see you.” 

“Why?”

Emmett shrugged. “I’m just the messenger, but you might want to clean that off and drop the Oscar the Grouch act before you go down there.” 

Mia clenched her fist. If it would have done anything, she might’ve hit him, wiping that smug little grin off his face entirely, but she knew it wouldn’t, so she took a deep breath instead, releasing her fist and smiling instead.

“You mind giving me a minute, then?” 

“Wait for wicked sister grouch, the Yoda Hulk brother will,” Emmett answered.

Mia took another deep breath, waiting a moment to see if he was serious, rolling her eyes as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame.

“I don’t need you to wait. I can remember how to get myself downstairs,” she said, but Emmett didn’t budge so she moved to the sink. 

She took her time with rinsing and moisturizing and didn’t utter a word to Emmett as she tried to step past him, but his hand caught her chin, though his palm and fingers spanned the whole bottom half of her face really, and the whole maneuver stopped her from moving entirely with little effort on Emmett’s part. 

“So soft now, your skin is.”

“Emmeh, lemme go!” Mia shouted, her words muffled as her cheeks remained squished between his fingers. “Yur nod fummy.” 

Emmett laughed, dropping his hold and holding a guiding hand out in front of them. “Fine, grouch. Go ahead, then.” 

“I will.” Mia massaged her jaw as she took the stairs nearly two at a time. “And I’m going to tell Dad you’re being an assh—” 

Mia’s mouth closed as she took a step off the stairs, rounding the corner, nearly knocking into her father.

Carlisle caught her arm as she stumbled and Mia briefly checked his face for any sign he intended to reprimand her for the word choice, but her eyes were instead pulled to the mess of tin cans on the table.

"What's…"

"All of this?" Carlisle asked as Mia wormed her way out of his hold. "I was hoping you might be able to tell us."

Her eyes flicked back and forth between the cans, her father, and her brother, who had taken a seat at the counter.

"I've been up in my room all day. I don't even know what 'this' is."

Emmett put his feet up on the stool beside him. "You're busted, kid. Might as well give up the act."

"I'm not busted because I didn't do anything.”

"Well, the fourteen tin cans found in the cars would say otherwise," Carlisle answered. "I thought we were in agreement that there would be no more pranks played, especially where the cars are involved?"

Mia’s mouth fell open a bit before she gulped. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up the can that certainly had been Mia's doing, a neat 'With love, Mia,' painted out on the side of the can with nail polish.

"You did this?"

Mia couldn't find the words, but she finally nodded. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up another tin can, a nearly identical message written out on the side with the very same shade of pink and Mia stepped forward, pulling the can from his grasp to study it closer.

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered, "Emmett must've…he must be—"

"I must be what?"

Mia jumped at her brother's closeness and she smacked his shoulder as a reflex. "Stop doing that!” she said before turning back to Carlisle. “Dad, tell him to stop scaring me."

Carlisle sighed. "Amelia, I thought we were on the same page after our discussion. You agreed to stop with the pranks, but since our discussion doesn’t seem to have been enough—"

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered. "I—"

"What about this?"

Mia let out a rushed exhale, a nervous laugh coming at the end of it. She had forgotten about the photo she'd replaced days ago, switching out one of her father and her as a baby to that of her father holding a potato wrapped in cream-colored blankets.

"I did that ages ago. It was before we talked."

"Aw, come on, Mia. You don't think we're that stupid, do you?" Emmett asked.

Mia turned from her father to her brother. "I think you are."

She shrieked as Emmett twirled her around, wrapping one arm across her chest as he held her against his front, using his free hand to clamp down over her mouth.

"Alright, I think we've heard enough of her lip, Carlisle. It's time for sentencing. Fearless leader, do your worst."

Mia knew her father would never do his worst. She wasn’t even aware of what Carlisle Cullen’s worst entailed, having never seen him more than slightly aggrieved, but she thrashed against her brother’s hold anyhow, prying at his hands until he caught her arms, and then she kicked at his shins, but Emmett easily sidestepped her attempts.

Mia yelled her brother’s name, the sound muffled into his palm before she bit down. It didn’t hurt him, more of a shock that she’d even done it, than anything. She'd gone through a short-lived biting phase around three or four, but they’d been incident free since then.

Emmett smirked. “Are you sure you want to challenge me to a biting war, kid?”

Carlisle cleared his throat. “I think a more appropriate punishment would be for Amelia to clean and detail the cars.” 

She groaned, her efforts to get out of Emmett’s hold renewed, if only because she wanted to voice her protest. 

“And dust every picture frame in the house,” Carlisle continued as Emmett finally uncovered her mouth.

“But that’s going to take forever and I—”

“I suspect it will keep you busy for the remainder of your break and provide you with plenty of time to think about your behavior,” Carlisle said. “And you’re grounded...three weeks.” 

“You’ve got to be joking,” Mia groaned, “Dad, I didn’t even do this! I—”

Mia felt Emmett shaking with silent laughter before she noticed the mischievous glint in her father’s eye, the slightest of smiles coming to his face. 

“You actually are joking, aren’t you?” 

Carlisle shrugged. “Emmett and I thought you could benefit from a little dose of your own medicine, Mia.”

Mia sighed. “So I don’t have to do any of what you said, then?”

Emmett lifted her over his shoulder, moving steadily towards the door.. “You’re still helping me wash the jeep, kid. Need to teach you the importance of not messing with my things.” 

“But it’s pouring out—Dad! Help!”

Carlisle stepped forward, beating them to the door.

“Thank yo—” Mia started.

He pulled his daughter’s rain jacket off the hook, handing it to Emmett. “We wouldn’t want your sister getting sick,” he said. “And let me get that for you.” 

Carlisle opened the door, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face as Emmett carried her through. 

“Have fun, sweetheart.” 

--

Twilight Masterlist

[ciggylungz]

Show me yours

Blurb night- 1.8k words

(Request: Maybe more catholic school H but there bestfriend and there both v innocent and its their first time trying _______ (whatever you want) just a thought? (For the possible blurb night.)

 “Did you hear what Lily was saying about Connor?”

y/n looked up when she heard Harry’s voice, the two of them in his room trying to finish their shared art project. They had to do a joint painting of the schools logo for the competition being held to pick a new art piece for the Catholic school. Y/n was currently trying to fix her minor mishap of mixing the purple too dark on the lower corner of the canvas.

“No? what happened?” her attention was divided between the art and Harry’s bite of gossip he was finding the correct verbiage for. “Lily said her and Connor did it!” his tone was slightly lower, whispering the last word so no one would hear a slight blush creeping onto his face. The revelation made the girl snap her head towards her best friend, eye’s widened a bit. The two of them were rather sheltered, they had attended the same private Catholic schools from the time they were in kindergarten up to the present as they were both in their second year of secondary school. The most rebellious thing they’ve ever really done was taking a second sip of the communion wine during mass, so hearing that their classmates may have had sex was very shocking to the pair.

“No way!” the project now took a backseat, y/n now fully invested in the drama Harry was relaying to her. “I swear! She said they did it in the bathroom!” , “Oh my gosh!...did she say anything like detailed?” the girl was just as nosy as her best friend. She wanted every drop of information she could squeeze from him. Harry smiled awkwardly, nervous repeating the words he’d heard from the two teens in question. “Uh…well she said they had s-sex in the bathroom, and Connor said she uh…’went down’ on him at his house..” while y/n knew the basics of sex, she didn’t exactly know much beyond ‘sex is between two married people and makes babies’ , so she questioned his revelation. “what does that mean?” , Harry wasn’t sexually experienced by any means, he was a kiss-less virgin but he would be lying if he said he didn’t know what certain sexual acts involved…he may be a good boy but he’s also a teenage boy with internet access.

His blush grew a few shades darker, opting to clear his throat and make sure the door was closed while he tried to find his voice again. “Uh..well-“ a uncomfortable chuckle escaped him while he tried to choke out the dirty words. “It’s when a girl puts their mouth on a boys private parts…” Y/n gawked at Harry, totally shellshocked at the fact that was a thing! She couldn’t fathom why anyone would want to do that, “Wait what?! Isn’t that dirty? Don’t you pee from there?!” the girl was now standing on her feet her innocent mind trying to comprehend this new information. “Well…yea but I don’t think it’s dirty? If you don’t shower maybe, and the boy doesn’t pee in their mouth…” a nervous hand reached up to scratch the back of Harry’s flushed neck.

“that’s so…weird….h-have you ever done that?” Y/n asked him with a slight bow of her head locking eyes with him, “No! I’ve never done it! I’ve just s-seen it before tha’s all…” the boy shifted uncomfortably, “You’ve seen it? Where?”

“in…porn”

Once again, a comically dramatic gasp ripped through the air from Y/n. she knew of porn, her brother had gotten caught watching it once and that’s the first time she found out people have sex on camera. That was another huge shock to her, yet this one seemed bigger.

“You watch porn?!”

“shush! you’re going to get me in trouble y/n” Harry shot her a glare, yanking her forward to sit on his bed with him, his palm moving to cover her mouth. “Don’t yell that! It’s a secret”  Harry cast a nervous glance towards his shut bedroom door before removing his hand from her face. Y/n giving his chest a nice swat with furrowed brows. “Don’t do that again, jerk” Harry simply rolled his eyes. “Then stop being so loud!”

Y/n pouted slightly, crossing her arms over her chest and huffing. “Or what?” she challenged “Or ill glue your mouth shut.” His fingers moved to flick her forehead, which was a mistake since Y/n then chose to start yelling “MISS AN-“ yet she was silenced by his hand once more. “I’m serious Y/n stop it!”

Y/n suddenly got an idea, decided she’d bargain her way out of this one.

Harry knew that look, his eyes widened realizing she was about to suggest something that he may not want to hear. Y/n was a sweet girl, but she had a bit of a bossy side too.

“If you show me the video, I won’t tell.”

Well, Harry expected something, but definitely not that one. “W-wait what?” he couldn’t believe Y/n had just asked him to show her porn! What was he supposed to say? He knew if he showed her he’d have to take a cold shower, but he didn’t want his mom knowing he watched the videos either. “If you show me the video I won’t tell.” Her statement was very level, the angelic doe eyes coming back to persuade him, and well Harry was a sucker for that look.

__

Soon enough the pair were sat against his headboard, Harry’s laptop open to a private tab with Pornhub opened on it. He chose on of his favorites, a simple pretty tame blowjob video.

“are you sure you want to see it?” his palms were sweating, knees twitching every few minutes trying to control himself and keep his pants from tightening. “Play it, Harry.” Y/n took control, tapping the space bar to start the video.

The logo played before it got to the video, a man sitting on his couch filming his girlfriend kneeling in front of him slowly moving to undress the man in front of her. Y/n watched the screen intently while the woman went to work, tugging the mans cock free and stroking it but Y/n being Y/n the video didn’t suddenly change the atmosphere like it does in a romcom, instead she was full of questions and comments.

“Wow, I didn’t know boys privates looked like that. It looks kind of like a snake.” Harry was happy Y/n wasn’t making the situation too serious, laughing a little breaking the tense atmosphere listening to her talk. He tried to focus his gaze more on the wall in front of him then the porn playing on his computer so he didn’t pop a stiffy in front of her. “Uh…kinda? I guess…” , “Does your penis look like that too?”

Harry choked on air a bit, suppressing a cough. He sweats he can feel himself burning alive from the blush on his face. “I don’t think my penis looks like a snake y/n, no. I think it looks like a penis.” His response got him a ‘hmph’ from his friend which he of course, laughed at. Yet he wasn’t entirely prepared for her next sentence.  

“Show me yours?”

This time Harry’s eyes were the ones wide as saucers, his jaw slightly slack and body gone tense. “What?!” Y/n giggled, finding his reaction a bit silly since they were already watching two people engage in oral, how is this any more shocking? “What? Show me yours” she shrugged slightly, Harry was trying to keep his head from exploding but an idea popped into his brain right before the urge to combust took over.

“I show you mine, you show me yours?”

“Harry I don’t have a penis.” Y/n replied with a ‘duh’ eye roll, causing an annoyed groan to come from her friend. “I am aware of that, smarty pants. I mean…if I show you my penis, you show me your boobs.”

He expected to get a smack or a immediate refusal from her, but surprisingly Y/n nodded, “That’s fair, I’m not putting your penis in my mouth just for the record.” She gave him a pointed look as her hands traveled up to loosen her uniform tie and start fumbling with the buttons of her shirt.

The boy felt frozen in place watching his best friend start to undress in front of him. His teenage boy mind was going crazy, this was the first time he was going to get to see boobs in person, he was a bit scared he might keel over and die from a hormone overdose.

“What are you waiting for? You’re supposed to show me yours. I’m not taking my boobs out if you’re not holding your end of the bargain up ,Harry.” Y/n’s hands stilled, giving him a pointed look that broke his trance quickly fumbling with his pants to shove them off his hips the outline of his plumping cock showing against the white and grey checker print of his boxers.

“Who’s gonna go first?”, his throat felt painfully dry while he talked swallowing hard after he finished. “You duh!” the girl pushed his shoulder lightly and pointed to his crotch waiting for him to reveal himself.

The boy took a deep breath, his hands shaking slightly as he tugged his cock through the flap in the front of his underwear. He grunted quietly, the cold air hitting his swollen tip. For a few moments nothing was said, Y/n quietly observed his organ taking in the details and pondering her thoughts before speaking, “Yours looks better than his, it’s prettier. Still kind of looks like a snake though.”

Harry sighed, he was glad she didn’t make a comment on his size or anything negative but the snake comment wasn’t exactly the erotic language he needed to get himself off, and then he remembered the deal. “Your turn.”

Y/n nodded, giggling a little bit as she unhooked the clasps of her bra and let them slip down her arms. Her breasts finally came into Harry’s view and god his balls were already constricting. He feared he’d really be the guy who cums in 2 seconds just looking at a girl, but this would be the right situation for it. Y/n didn’t have any clue how long boys lasted so if he was to bust then she probably wouldn’t tease him she’d just have more questions.

“God…they’re pretty Y/n.” The girl smiled shaking her chest a little so they bounced in front of his eyes. “Thanks, I grew them myself. I’m a b cup” she was adorable, so blissfully unaware of what she was doing for him. A smile and playful giggles still radiating from her while he was trying to keep himself from passing out.

“Can I touch-“

His request was soon cut off, not by Y/n but by the door swinging open and his shocked mother standing behind it.

[be-the-spark-flyboy]

Strange(r) Encounter

Pairing: Santiago ‘Pope’ Garcia x GN!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, drunk!reader, brief mentions of past violence and minor character death

A/n: Request by @itspdameronthings way too long ago but I accidentally deleted my first draft :( and was too depressed to write it all over again until now :)

Word count: 1.6k ish

---

Santi woke up with the sun on his face, filtering in from the bare windows. He rolled onto his back staring at the ceiling. The apartment was decent, near enough to the security consultant agency he got a job at that he could just walk if he wanted to.

For the first time in his life, Santi had time to sleep in. There was no drill sergeant to bust his ass for being late, there was no life and death situation that needed his leadership, no missions to consume every second and every thought of his life.

There was still so much he wanted to do, so many people he wanted to help. Yet, between the royal fuck up of the Lorea mission, getting one of his teammates killed and the condition of his knees worsening, Santi finally took the advise of everyone who ever cared for him and finally settled down.

Suddenly, he had nothing but time.

Santi closed his eyes against the light of day progressively getting brighter, mentally running through the list of tasks he needed to get done by the end of the day.

Breakfast with the boys, then pick out furniture for his new apartment, maybe paint if he felt like it. Watch the game. Santi sighed heavily, rolling off the mattress onto the cold tile floor. Oh, and get a bed frame.

---

Pope was locking up the front door when he heard the thunk of keys falling and a voice loudly mutter a curse. He turned towards the sound to see you heavily leaning against a door, coat half slung on your shoulder, the other half dragging on the floor. Santi watched as you clumsily bent down to pick up your keys, promptly dropping it once again while trying to slot it into the keyhole. You glared at a set of keys laying on the floor as if it had insulted your entire lineage. Santi couldn’t help the amusement rising in his chest at his clearly drunk neighbour.

“Hey,” He interrupted your staredown with the keys, as if you were willing them to spontaneously jump into your hands. “You need any help there?” You jumped, as if you hadn't realised that you weren't alone.

“Nah, I got it,” you dismissed waving a hand and moved to pick up the keys again, but a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea made you back up and lean heavily on the door once more. “I don’t got it,” you whispered in defeat. “Shit, I think I’m still drunk,”

“Great party, huh?”

“Amaaazing,” your head thumped against the door where you tipped it back.

“Let me help,” in a few quick strides, Santi swiped the keys from the floor handing it to you. You awkwardly pat his chest.

“Thanks man,” Santi hesitated to walk away from you since the possibility of you tripping over your own two feet and smashing your skull on the floor was very real. Pushing yourself away from the door on your unsteady feet, you tried the door for the third time, whispering a little yay when you finally opened it.

Santi couldn’t help but shake his head in at your antics, but just as he started to leave, you gasped loudly, “You’re my new neighbour!” you exclaimed, giving him a two-finger salute as you started backing away into your own apartment.

“Welcome to the neighbourhood!” You exclaimed in your drunk enthusiasm. “Hope you enjoy y-” before Santi could even process what had happened, you were on the ground, groaning in pain. He quickly darted forward in mild panic.

“You okay?” He asked, checking you over. Thankfully you didn’t seem to have hit your head.

“Who left a shoe over there?” you groaned unironically, making no move to get up from the ground.

“No clue. You really should get up though,”

“Floor good. I’m just gonna take a little nap, don't mind me,” you smiled sleepily, much to santi’s dismay. He heaved a heavy sigh, looking skyward as if asking the gods why me?

“Alright, let's get you inside,” he slowly coaxed you up into a sitting position before managing to pull you up onto your feet. Your place was an absolute mess, riddled with the telltale signs of a workaholic. Santi would know. Empty mugs and paper were lying on every surface, the waste paper bin overflowing. Laptop was balanced atop a stack of books on the coffee table.

You released a content sigh when Santi finally lowered you onto the plush cushions of the sofa. Carefully navigating around your belongings, he made a trip to your kitchen, fetching a glass of water. Santi debated finding you some painkillers but decided it would be a bad idea to go rifling around into a stranger’s belonging. The water would have to do.

---

It was midday when you finally woke up to a hangover so bad, the first thing you had to do was sprint over to the bathroom in your delirious state and throw up. It felt like someone took a sledgehammer to your head the previous day but you made it back to the couch safely, on all fours. After shooting a quick text to your friends that you were still alive, you flopped onto the couch, rethinking all your important life decisions that led you to this moment.

Last night was well deserved, after working your ass off for an article, you wanted to celebrate. But maybe, you went a little too hard with it. You laid there on the couch, mouth dry as sandpaper, contemplating ways to get to the kitchen without throwing up another time. You tossed your phone onto the coffee table unintentionally knocking into a glass. Despite your lethargic movements, your hand whipped out just in time to catch it before it tipped over the side, a little bit of the water sloshing over the edge. Weird. You didn't remember leaving it there.

The memory of that morning came back to you all at once and you groaned into your empty apartment in embarrassment. Your new neighbor was fuzzy in your memory, but you remembered exactly how you thoroughly humiliated yourself in front of him. Oh what a great first impression that was. Nonetheless, you were really thankful for the water he left you. Quickly you drain it, laying back on the couch for another nap. The world could wait.

---

The sun had set when Santi got back home. Apart from the drunk neighbor incident, his day went by uneventfully. At least the boys had thought his recount was funny. The thought of you brought a smile to his face. Santi contemplated going over to check up on you, see if you needed help with anything. Would that be overstepping? Sure he was just being a concerned neighbor. Plus, amidst all the excitement of your unconventional meet-the-neighbor session, he didn’t manage to get your name.

Santi glanced around his apartment, at the bare, lifeless walls and boxes of unpacked shit lying everywhere. And thought he could put off unpacking for another few minutes.

He could spare a moment to go say hi.

---

When the doorbell rang, you almost didn't open it. Fearing it would be one of your neighbors coming to complain about some drunk shit you didn't remember doing. The sound aggravated your already throbbing headache. Then you decided, fuck it, you gotta deal with it sometime. Might as well get it over with.

So, needless to say, you were taken off guard when you were met with a handsome stranger instead of your nosey neighbour Carol. Like, a really handsome older man in a pair of jeans and t-shirt.

“Hey, I just moved in next door-” Panic hit you like a fucking bus, heat rising in your face. The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush abruptly cutting the familiar stranger off.

“I’m so sorry about this morning, I swear I don’t do that often. You really won’t have to deal with that again,” an amused smile played at the corners of his lips at your sudden word vomit and you had to stop yourself from visibly cringing at yourself.

“It’s okay, don't worry about,” his smile slipped into something warmer, more inviting. “Just wanted to see if you were fine,”

“Fine is a bit of a stretch, but I’ll live,” you shrugged and to that, your neighbor, a bloody handsome one mind you, smiled widely. With his head full of curly salt and pepper hair. You weren't seeing stars, no way. Of all the people who could’ve made a fool of yourself in front of, it just had to be your sexy, distinguished looking neighbor. Hey, at least it can't get worse than that right.

“I’m Santiago, by the way. My friends call me Santi,” distantly, you wondered if you could get away with calling him Santi too. “Or Pope,” that made you squint your eyes at him. Then you opened your mouth, letting it run ahead of your brain, and stupidly asked him one last question that was going to make you want to hit yourself in the face with a flip flop whenever you thought of it.

“How do you get ‘Pope’ from Santiago?"

—-

[kaywinchester]

Dark Power Pt. 5

Read Part 4 Here!

Summary: Sam goes off to help Dean with the hunt. In the process, Y/N and Jody run into some trouble. 

Word Count: 1,857

A/N: I really hope you guys somewhat like this series so far. I might have this one be longer than the other ones I’ve written before, which is why it’s going by slower. My requests are still closed but I will let y’all know when I am opening them again. It will be soon!

“This is Jody, she’s going to be staying with you while we’re gone.” Dean introduced Jody as she came through the motel door.

“Hi, Y/N! It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Jody stuck out her hand for Y/N to shake.

“Nice to meet you.” Y/N shook Jody’s hand with a small smile. Dean gave Jody a run down of what hunt they were doing, then told her about Y/N a little bit. Sam walked over to his daughter to say goodbye.

“Promise you’ll be back soon?” Y/N asked innocently. 

“Promise. The sooner we get to work on this thing, the sooner we can be done with this, and I can get back here.

“Okay...” Y/N lowered her head.

“It’ll be okay. Jody is pretty cool from what I’ve heard. I’ll call you guys later tonight.” Sam said as he placed a kiss on Y/N’s forehead. The two men grabbed their things and walked out.

Y/N sat down on one of the beds, staying quiet. All of this was so new to her. It was a little scary and stressful, she also worried about her dad going up against monsters. Although, she didn’t know much about the actual monsters yet, she still worried about her dad and wanted him to come home safe so they could both go back home.

“So? Is there anything you want to do to pass the time?” Jody asked, breaking the silence.

“I don’t know.” Y/N mumbled and shrugged.

“I know this stuff, your dad and uncle are going through is a little weird. Hard to believe even.....” Jody said.

“Are they actually serious? Or is this just one big joke?” Y/N asked.

“It is real all right. I know it seems crazy since we’re all told as kids that monsters aren’t real and neither are ghosts. As much as I’d like to think they aren’t, unfortunately that’s not the case. Your dad and uncle are hunters and there is a whole community of people out there that do the same thing as them. Not a lot of people know about hunting, which is for the best.” Jody explained.

“Why don’t most people know about what they do?”

“Because, there's a lot of bad things out there that are very dangerous. They can be smart and fast. Most of the time, these monsters are inhuman, so they can do things that we can't. If everyone knew these things were real, they would most likely be going after everyone. So it’s just better for a few people to go after them in silence.” Jody said.

“Is that why we haven't seen Dean in so long? Because he was out hunting?” Y/N wondered.

“It’s really not my place to talk about these things....” Jody trailed off.

“That’s the reason though, isn’t it?” Y/N knew the answer already.

“See, your dad didn’t want to hunt the rest of his life, so he wanted to live a normal life with you. That made Dean a little upset, since he thought they would be hunting together for a long time. They just disagreed on things they wanted to do in life, that’s all.” Jody said, hoping Sam wouldn’t be mad for explaining these things.

“Is my dad going to start hunting again?” Y/N asked.

“Well, his plan was to just help your uncle out with this one and then get back to reality.”

That was Sam’s plan all along. But plans like that for hunters usually don’t get to play out so smoothly. Sam knew there was going to be more trouble after this hunt, but he wanted to try his best to keep it from affecting his life with Y/N

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

The next three days for Sam and Dean consisted of going back and forth, talking to the police, victims, families, witnesses. Collecting information on everything and everyone. Dean started to have a little bit more luck with Sam around, the two of them were really a team.

“Y’know, I think I know what I’ve been missing from these hunts.” Dean thought.

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” Sam asked.

“Your dorkiness.....” Dean stated. Sam rolled his eyes. “I guess your smarts count too.” Dean added.

Sam gave a small smile and looked back at his laptop. “It would be great to have you back, doing this again.” Dean brought up.

“You know I can’t Dean, this is a one time thing. Just like that weekend trip to look for dad was a one time thing.” Sam sighed. 

“It’s in your blood, Sam. You’re good at this, you’re meant to do this.....” Dean said.

“I’m meant to keep my daughter safe. Which means no hunting. I gotta do what I gotta do.” Sam said. He then sat up a little straighter, a worried and confused expression formed on his face.

“Something doesn’t feel right about this.....” Sam said

“What, what do you mean?” Dean asked.

“The weekend trip I took to hunt with you. After that, Jess died. This is another short hunt, it’s meant to be just a few days..... What if this is the same thing that killed Jess? What if it’s after Y/N too?” Sam’s expression started to grow more worried and angry. 

“Uh, I don’t know.” Dean thought about it. He didn’t know what to say. Sam pulled out his phone as quickly as he could and dialed Jody’s number. “What?” Dean asked, not knowing what Sam was trying to do.

“I promised I’d call.” Sam said as the line rang.

“Hello?” Jody answered.

“Hey! How are you guys doing?” Sam asked.

“We’re uh, we’re doing fine...” Jody said. 

“How’s Y/N? Can you put her on the phone? I promised I would call.” Sam asked.

“Sure.” Jody said. The line was silent for a while until he heard some small breaths. 

“Hi dad.” Said a small voice.

“Hey sweetie. Sorry it’s a little late, but just wanted to see how you were doing.” Sam said.

“I’m fine, are you almost done with the hunt?” Y/N asked eagerly.

“Kind of, we found some more leads these past few days. We’re getting there.”  

“Okay. Please hurry back!” Y/N said in a shaky voice.

“Don’t worry, we’re working on it!” Sam said in a hopeful voice. Before Y/N said goodbye to him, the phone call ended from the other line. Sam set his phone down with a confused look on his face.

“See, they’re doing good....” Dean said.

“No..... Something doesn’t seem right.” Sam furrowed his eyebrows. “She didn’t sound like her normal self. She sounded scared.” 

“Maybe she was just worried about you?” Dean implied.

“We need to go check on them.” Sam said as he got up abruptly.

“Sam, we’re not driving all the way back out there, you just got off the phone with them.” Dean argued.

“Dean, we’re going back there wether you like it or not. I have a bad feeling about this.” Sam urged as he grabbed his things in a hurry.

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

Jody’s phone rang in her pocket. “Well what do we have here?” The man in front of her said as he reached into her pocket to pull out her phone. A smile spread across the mans face as he looked at the caller ID.

“Listen here. I’m going to answer this, you’re going to talk as if everything is just fine. If you say one wrong word, I’m killing you both.” He talked slow. He answered the call and put the phone on speaker next to Jody.

“Okay. Please hurry back!” Y/N said a little too scared sounding. The mans face grew sour as he hung up the call. “What did I say!?” He yelled as he punched Y/N across her cheek. Her head fell down as she winced in pain.

“Fuck. Now they’re probably on their way.” He said to the other man. They both glanced around and whispered to each other.

“Bring them in.”

“To the nest?” He whispered. “Isn’t it too soon for that?”

“We’ve waited long enough. Lets just finish these two so that we can go grab the WInchester’s”

It was apparent to Jody that these were definitely vamps. She needed to keep a close eye on Y/N as she was already scared enough. 

The two men broke into the motel earlier with force after looking for Sam and Dean. They found Jody and Y/N instead and panicked, grabbing them instead. The two grabbed them and walked them out to a truck where they were driven away to some vamps nest. 

Y/N and Jody sat on the floor in the back of a truck. It was very dark, with some dim light coming from the windows.

“Are they going to kill us?” Y/N asked fearfully.

“I don’t know what their plans are, but I just need you to stay as calm as possible, okay? Can you do that for me?” Jody soothed. Y/N nodded.

“When we get there and we’re not in the truck anymore, see if you can wiggle out of those ropes, you’re hands are probably small enough, then if there is a point where they aren’t looking, grab the knife in my back pocket.” Jody whispered as quiet as she could.

“I thought I said no talking!” The guy shouted from the front seat.

Y/N sat there terrified for her life. But she knew she had to be strong for Jody and for her dad. She sat up straight and sniffled her watery eyes away, determined to get out of here alive.

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

Sam and Dean busted through the motel door to find nothing but two chairs on the ground with a roll of rope. 

“Damnit!” Dean yelled, running his hands through his hair in frustration.

“Look around, for anything!” Sam demanded.

Sam looked around as well as Dean. “Nothing.” Dean breathed out. Sam walked out into the parking lot in frustration. Dean followed. “What now? We have NOTHING on them.” Sam yelled.

Dean just happened to look down and saw a folded up piece of paper. He picked it up, unfolded it to see it was a map. It had markings and places circled on it. Studying it more in depth, he looked at the locations, realizing they were the places that he had visited through out town to get information.

“Sam, look. I’ve gone to all of these places while on this hunt. This must be their map if they’ve been tracking me...” Dean scanned the piece of paper. “I’ve been everywhere except here, I don’t remember going anywhere over here.” Dean pointed out one spot on the map that was further away from everything else. 

“That must be their nest.” Sam guessed.

“I hope you’re right.” Dean jingled his keys as they took a chance on the one location from the map.

Sam sat in the passenger seat and looked at the map, letting out a sigh, he knew how scared his little girl must have been. In his heart, she knew she was strong, but he was still worried as hell. Dean said not to worry, and that Jody is with her. Regardless, they knew they didn’t have much time and needed to get there fast.

Requests Are Closed Read Part 6 HERE!

Tags:

@mersuperwholocked-lowlife @gracie-and-the-superwholock-gang

[yonqha]

—- 📞

speed dial

the light bulb in your room goes bust, and you needed someone to fix it fast. you had absolutely no clue on how to change a light bulb. but allen ma, your ex-boyfriend, knows how.

allen x reader oneshot (requested) // semi-angst, fluff (?)

word count: 1.9k words

a/n: this was just lightly edited (i got too lazy) lmao so pls excuse any errors >< and :D let me know if y’all want an alternate ending for this i might write and post one soon ^^

masterlist

heavy hands on the keyboard, the smell of coffee suspended in the air, and light illuminating your weary face. this was the current situation as you were busy typing away your report for work. your hours at the office were seemingly not enough for the amount of tasks you needed to do, hence the urge to continue work at home instead of taking your time to rest.

you gave yourself no breaks, wanting to finish this as quickly as possible to stay on track. the only breaks you considered were mini sips of the instant coffee by your side and fast trips to the bathroom. notifications from your phone didn’t bother you at all, you were that driven to finish this report as soon as you could.

but the main light in your room didn’t seem to favor that. after taking a sip from your coffee mug, it flickered a few times and decided to die on you. the room suddenly went dark, minus the light coming from your laptop. this made you groan in frustration. standing up, you went to the light switch just by the door to check. you turned it on and off but to no avail-- it’s a busted light.

a loud sigh came out of your mouth. out of all the things that could happen, your light had to die on you. you thought of just continuing to work without the light, but your eyes were starting to get strained from looking at the screen for hours. this made you regret not buying a desk lamp in the first place.

you had to think of a solution, you didn’t want to stall for too long as you might lose your energy to work. grabbing your phone from the desk, you opened your contacts to try and see if you could call an electrician. but upon seeing the time, you immediately gave up.

there is no way an electrician would go to your place at 2 in the morning.

plus, the time for them to get here? you couldn’t wait that long.

so you decided for plan b: going to wikihow to search how to change a busted light bulb. scrolling through the steps, you just got more and more confused. you don’t even know how to differentiate light bulbs, how on earth are you going to change one by yourself?

so you settled for plan c: finding someone on your contact list that knows how to change a light bulb (and is possibly still awake at this hour). you paced back and forth inside your room, scanning each name in your contacts to find anyone that can help you.

your eyes then fell on a certain name, making your feet halt immediately. does this person know how to change light bulbs? yes. is this person still awake at this hour? you’re definitely sure about that. does this person live relatively close to you? yeah, somewhat.

but are you sure you want to call your ex-boyfriend to help change your broken light bulb? no answer.

you didn’t want to bother him, probably cooped up in his studio busy producing tracks like he always does. but you have no other option, well, unless you want to cite the rest of the alphabet starting from the letter d for other plans.

you took a deep breath. ‘you have a report to finish, y/n. get yourself together.’

you dialled his number and put the phone to your ear. it only took a couple of rings before the male answered. “hey, allen? i need some….help.”

just a few minutes after the call, allen was already by your doorstep ringing the doorbell. you took one quick look at the mirror to fix yourself, thinking you might be a complete mess from doing work, and opened the front door.

your eyes met and you swear you could feel the butterflies enter your stomach. those same pesky butterflies that gave you that fluttering feeling whenever you were with the male. you mentally cursed. you thought you’re already moving on from him, but it seems not. your body can’t lie, what else could be a possible explanation for this? the coffee?

yeah, probably.

“hey, y/n.” allen greeted, giving you a small smile.

“hey.” you replied back. sensing the forming awkward atmosphere, you moved aside to give allen space to enter your unit. it honestly felt weird for you to be letting allen in like this, especially when you’re used to him just entering the unit without your help. after all, this used to be allen’s apartment as well. the both of you lived together in this space you both could call home.

without hesitation, allen headed to the room just by the kitchen. “everything’s still here, right?” he pointed at the door. standing by the kitchen counter, you nodded in reply.

“i never really touched that room, you were the one who took care of it after all.” you commented as allen turned the knob. he opened the door to see that his arrangement of the supplies inside remained as it was. he let out a chuckle. “i can definitely see that.”

after getting the brand new light bulb and a flashlight from the stockroom, the two of you headed over to your bedroom to have the light bulb changed. allen grabbed a spare chair from the room to stand on and proceeded to work. you sat on your office chair, taking a sip of your already cold coffee.

“just an idea but, i think you should be teaching me how to change a light bulb,” you set down your mug. “or any home repairs in general.”

“i’d be willing to offer you lessons,” allen replied as he unscrewed the broken light bulb. “that’d be 5 bucks per lesson. deal? we can start now if you want to.”

you kicked his leg from your seat, and the two of you laughed at the exchange. “i can’t believe you.” you muttered and shook your head.

it was just like how it was before— exchanging jokes, having playful conversations. except, you two broke up. it reminded you of how the two of you first hung out together, enjoying each other’s company through hours of talking and joking around. but that reminder came with the small pang in your heart, another reminder that it is now just a memory living in your head. something you don’t experience as often as before, and something you have to get used to not having.

allen took out the new bulb out of its box, and broke the momentary silence. “so, how have you been?”

it took you quite a while to answer, coming up with something that isn’t about you thinking about your breakup and starting to move on. “i’ve been….well. just busy with work as usual. you?”

“just the same. i’m finishing up an EP, just a few final touches and it’s ready for release.”

hearing that made you smile instantly. allen’s music was your favorite, and hearing that he’ll be releasing new songs soon brightened up your mood. “oh? that’s great! finally, i have something new to listen to.”

“and something new to have on repeat for hours.” allen remarked as he started to screw on the new light bulb. you rolled your eyes at his words and at how he still remembered your habit of leaving songs on repeat.

“okay, done.” allen turned off the flashlight, got off the chair he was standing on and went to turn on the light. the room was illuminated, and that meant you can finally start working again.

“thank you so much, allen. i’ll treat you to a meal for the help.” you stood up from your chair, watching as allen returned the chair to its earlier position.

“no need, y/n. but thank you.” he flashed you a smile and exited the room. you followed shortly behind.

allen went to return the flashlight back in the stockroom. closing the door once he was done, he suddenly searched for something in is pocket. seeing as he couldn’t find it, he faced you and asked for a favor. “can i borrow your phone? i think i left mine in the car. i just have to make a quick call, if it’s alright?”

“oh, sure, it’s in my room.” you replied as you made your way to your room, grabbing your phone from your desk and heading back to allen. you unlocked your phone and handed it over to the male.

as he was busy inputting the number and making the call, you awkwardly looked away and gave him the space to make his call.

soon after, you heard a phone ring beside you. you turned to face allen who just fished out his phone out of his back pocket. the confused look on your face made allen chuckle.

“here, thanks.” he handed back your phone. “i placed my number on speed dial. so if you’re ready for those lessons, or just need some more help in general, just give me a call.”

taking your phone from his hands, you smiled. “thanks, allen. i appreciate it.”

allen paused, gathering his words, and spoke. “i…know you’re trying to move on and maybe you don’t wanna see me,” he started. “and you’re probably still a bit sensitive from the breakup. but i hope you know that i’m still sorry for the way i acted that day.” his eyes met yours, showing how much he means it. “we both weren’t in the right minds to talk, and it led to...this. maybe it’s for the best, but, i wish i could’ve handled my emotions better. and i’m truly sorry for that.”

as if on cue, your brain played the memory of that day. two stressed individuals fighting with each other under the control of raw and ugly emotions. you both decided after that it wasn’t working anymore, and it led to a mutual breakup. it still hurts for you, though. someone you held so dear to your heart suddenly leaving just like that. the two of you didn’t meet ever since that day. well, until your light bulb decided stop working. is this fate doing its work?

“as cliche as it may sound, i hope we can stay friends at least.” allen smiled at you, hoping you would agree to the idea. it hurts for you knowing the most you two can become are friends, but you thought that maybe this is for the best. maybe this is what it should be. and i guess it’s better than losing allen in your life. besides being your partner, he was like a best friend to you. why waste this chance?

“can i still be your best friend?” you asked after a short while, and allen gave a lighthearted laugh.

“that would be great, y/n.”

the thick air between the two of you dissipated, and the heavy feeling in your heart started to fade away. meeting allen one more time was what you needed all this time.

you escorted allen to the door and bid him goodbye. the apartment was now empty again besides your presence, but it felt much more lighter. like the invisible cloud of black smoke around your unit was finally gone.

with a light feeling in your heart, you went back to your room. you headed to your desk, the laptop screen flashing for you to finish the report. after giving it a good stare, you closed it.

you deserve a break. the report could wait.

[notveryglittery]

so @/dysaniadisorder​ posted this really cute zoom moxiety art and then i posted some selfies in a discord server and the reactions from that + this moxiety art got me feeling even more Fluffy than usual so here’s a very rambly au that i stream of consciousness wrote in half an hour lol 

idk about anyone else, but i had a pen pal through english class in middle school for a little while. so what if, patton and virgil meeting through being pen pals. patton's letters are as bubbly as his stories, he includes stickers on the pages and the envelope, and uses *so many* exclamation marks. virgil meanwhile, tends to write very little and mostly just in reaction to whatever patton said. because sure, the letters are sent to the school and they've been told not to give away personal information, but y'know... Just In Case.

except for one towards the end of the program, when patton really doesn't want to lose contact with virgil, so he shares his instagram. and he says no pressure of course i dont even know if you have an instagram but here it is if you ever wanna try to keep talking. and bc roman's his best friend, of course virgil has instagram (ugh). so of course he checks patton's profile. and oh *no* he's as cute as his bubbly handwriting and his stories and stickers and exclamation marks

virgil's never really mentioned this whole pen pal thing to roman, because roman's english teacher did not sign her class up for it and he knows roman would be jealous. but he made the mistake of checking patton's profile in roman's presence and if anyone's going to notice a Gay Panic™, it's roman

so of course roman grills virgil and virgil caves bc like what?? else is he gonna do?? but anyway, roman hits the follow button for virgil but then virgil throws his phone across the room and breaks it so can we get an f in the chat

meanwhile patton's studying with his step-brother logan when he gets a little chime from his phone and? oh a new instagram follow that's neat, who's [insert cool username for virgil]? except of course virgil's profile is private so patton has to follow back to see any photos. except virgil's phone is busted! bummer

cue virgil not getting a new phone for a week or two bc idk he's in trouble for breaking the old one to begin with and by the time he finally does get a new one, he totally spaces on installing instagram. so it's like a month and a half later when roman asks him why the heck he hasn't been liking roman's pictures that virgil remembers. and then he also remembers patton. *oh god patton* how could he ever forget, he is a fool, and patton probably hates him now, or he must be super worried, bc the pen pal program is over so they havent been writing and then he just disappeared off the face of the planet which?? well patton should have expected it a little because he did say it would be okay if virgil didnt want to keep in contact but *oh god patton*

virgil installs instagram and finds patton's follow request (and like 32 comments from roman demanding that virgil like his photos what kind of best friend is he smh)

and he accepts it 

and then while he's still riding his bravery high, he messages patton "hey it's virgil" and then Very Calmly sets his phone down before screaming into a pillow

meanwhile patton's busy cheering logan on at his swim meet but this does mean that he's posting all sorts of encouraging cheesy stuff to his story which means virgil is already getting a sneak peak into patton's life and wait oh my GOD is that his voice???????

virgil is very gay and he is having a Time

anyway patton also almost breaks his phone when he sees the follow request approved *and* the message!!! because lowkey , he considers virgil a pretty close friend!! he vented in some of those pen pal letters! said some things he couldn't bring himself to say to anyone else. and virgil was always so patient and kind and reminded him of all the good things to help and balance out the bad things.

so y'know, fast forward thru lots of instagram interactions. messaging each other late into the night. virgil always liking patton's photos and leaving a single "💜" comment on every one. they talk about roman - and how he's virgil's best friend and he may be dramatic and loud but he's reliable and genuine - and they talk about logan - and how patton wouldn't know anywhere near as much as he does w/out him and how they have sleepovers in the basement every saturday.

and fast forward to moving on from instagram to discord, and joining servers of fandoms they're both in. making a server for themselves + roman + logan (and *oh boy,* introducing roman and logan). sending silly memes and posts that "made me think of you", late night texting that ends with one sending the final “i guess you fell asleep, sweet dreams <3″ message, and the other sending the “oops i did, good morning <3″ message in return 

and sure, roman might post pictures on instagram of himself and virgil, but virgil's always half-in half-out of frame or he's blurry or he's looking away. and so one day, he posts a selfie in their friend server because he's just got his hair dyed purple and he's *so excited* and patton. patton didnt even have time to prepare can we get an f in the chat

there are a LOT of keysmashes and hearts lol

roman is still laughing by the time patton manages to calm down. patton sort of flat out demands for a group video call aljsdf

logan and roman, all this time obviously because they can't be out done, have already had plenty of personal voice and video calls themselves. sometimes it's just to help roman run lines or help logan study for a test. but they have been on the receiving end of patton and virgil gushing about their respective crushes so they're in full support of this tbh

so they set up a group video call that night, roman and logan like immediately muting themselves bc let's be real we all know the real reason behind this. patton is gushing about virgil and virgil's hair like, right off the bat, and virgil is slowly but surely disappearing into his hoodie and the lighting in his room isn't very good, but gosh patton is *melting* and then

and THEN

patton pauses to finally drink out of his cooling hot cocoa and virgil takes the opportunity to clear his throat and sit up a little out of his hoodie cocoon and says thank you

and y'all we thought virgil was all Gay Panic™ when he saw patton's face in photos for the first time? and then he broke his phone when roman followed patton for him?

patton does a spit take and chokes on his hot cocoa and kind of maybe shorts out his laptop ajsdkjhsf

because we gotta go full circle baby

roman disappears from view on his camera because he just rolled off the bed he's laughing so hard

you know logan definitely anticipated this, so he's been on best buy's website this whole time, ready to find laptops on sale / schedule an appointment to get patton's laptop fixed

and uuuhhhh yeah :) pen pals to friends to lovers long distance moxiety, with background probably-qpr logince because that's the Vibe i'm getting. with bonus best friends prinxiety and familial logicality!! thanks for reading :D 

[storiesforallfandoms]

busy ~ jeff wittek

word count:

request?: no

description: when life makes it impossible to go on a first date, jeff decides to plan one that he will not let fall through

pairing: jeff wittek x female!reader

warnings: none

masterlist

Online dating was always hit or miss. Either you meet someone who was super crazy, or someone who was really nice but it never worked out. Tinder was that, but, whether they were crazy or nice, the only thing anyone wanted to do was hook up.

You were ready to completely give up on Tinder when you were matched with Jeff Wittek, a YouTube barber who was well known for being friends with David Dobrik.

You clicked right away. Within a matter od days, you were planning your first date. The only trouble was neither of you had the time for the date. You were an intern at the Los Angeles hospital, so you basically worked six days a week, and Jeff was always travelling with David. It got to a point where you both stopped trying to plan the date and just hoped it would happen naturally.

You got into your car after a particularly long day and put your head against the steering wheel. You felt exhausted and you couldn’t wait to sleep for like 12 hours.

You checked our phone to see you had a text from Jeff. It read: “Hey! Hope you’re having a good day at work. Call me when you’re off?” It was accompanied by a smiley and a blushing smiley emoji. You couldn’t help but smile, happy to hear from him after such a long day.

The phone rang maybe two times before Jeff picked up. “Hey!”

“Hi,” you responded with a smile, happy to hear his voice.

“How was your day at work?” Jeff chuckled when he heard your long sigh. “That bad?”

“Not bad, just tiring,” you responded.

“Tomorrow is your day off, right?” You hummed in response, looking forward to the time off. “Do you have plans tonight?”

“Sleep.”

“Do you mind putting sleep on hold? I have our first date ready here at my place if you're up for it.”

Any exhaustion you were feeling suddenly melted away. You were now feeling energized and excited.

“I’ll text you my address, get ready and come over, dress comfy.”

“O - Okay,” you stutter out. “See you then.”

You drove home and got ready as quickly as possible. You took a quick shower, partly drying your hair and putting it up in a bun. Jeff told you to dress comfy, but you decided to wear a pair of leggings that were comfy but also made your butt look good, and an oversized hoodie.

When you were sure you were ready, you drove to his apartment. You were so nervous you could barley sit still. The drive was just barley ten minutes but it felt like an hour long. The elevator ride up to his apartment felt even longer. By the time you finally reached his apartment, you were so nervous you felt like you were going to be sick. You took a deep breath to calm your nerves and knocked at the door.

The first good sign you had was the sound of a dog barking. When Jeff opened the door, a little French bulldog raced out and started sniffing you and jumping up on your legs. You were more than happy to greet him with some ear scratches.

“Damn, Nerf, I just met the girl face to face and you’re already stealing her from me?” Jeff questioned, taking hold of the dog and pulling him away from you.

You looked up at Jeff, almost feeling intimidated by his height. He stood an easy foot over you, and even through the t-shirt he was wearing you could see his muscles. While you definitely weren’t someone who judged people for their looks, you definitely weren’t upset over what you were seeing from Jeff.

“It’s nice to finally see you face to face,” he said, a wide smile on his face. You couldn’t help but smile back.

“It’s nice to finally see you, too,” you told him.

You weren’t sure if you should hug him, maybe just shake his hand, or just walk into the apartment and see what Jeff had planned for your first date. Luckily, he took initiative and pulled you into a warm hug. You melted in his arms almost immediately. It felt right being there, the next good sign.

He led you into his apartment. The lights were off, excited for some dim lighting coming from the living room. When you walked in you saw that he had a blanket fort set up with fairy lights strung across the top of it. Inside the fort, Jeff had a laptop set up and blankets and pillows set up over the floor.

“I figured, you’d be tired after a long day,” Jeff explained. “I thought a more relaxing first date would be a blanket fort and a movie. You’re welcome to stay over if you want, too. That’s totally up to you. If you fall asleep, I won’t wake you up.”

“This is so cute,” you told him. “I love it. What movie are we watching, though?”

“I don’t know. I thought I’d let you decide. Most of what I watch is super action-y or trashy comedy and I wasn’t sure if you liked either of those genres so you can pick.”

“I love trashy comedy,” you said. “Anything Adam Sandler I’m a sucker for.”

“Oh that’s fantastic. If you didn’t like trashy Adam Sandler I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to continue this relationship.”

You felt yourself blushing when he said “relationship”. You weren’t really sure what to consider the two of you. Whenever people asked, you told them you were “talking to someone”, but since you hadn’t gone on your first date you weren’t sure if this was considered a relationship or not. If Jeff was considering it one, that must mean it was then, right?

You crawled into the tent and Jeff followed. He picked a movie, you both decided on the first Grown Ups movie. As he settled back against the pillows, Jeff pulled you to him, letting you cuddle into him.

Everything felt so natural, like this wasn’t your first time meeting in person. Laying there next to him, cuddling into his side, watched the movie together while your eyelids started to grow heavy. It all felt so familiar instead of being something new. You figured the months of talking definitely helped to ease the nervousness and the tension that a first date usually brought, which you were definitely grateful for.

You felt yourself starting to nod off and jolted awake when you felt your head suddenly lull forward. Jeff’s chest vibrated under your ear as he chuckled.

“You want to go to bed?” he asked.

“No,” you lied, but you knew he didn’t believe you. “I can’t stay over, I would feel too bad.”

“Well I’m not letting you drive home when you’re mere seconds away from falling asleep,” he told you. “My couch is a pullout bed, you can sleep on that if you don’t feel comfortable in the blanket fort.”

“Oh no, I’m definitely sleeping in the fort. I haven’t slept in one in years,” you said.

He chuckled. “Yeah, me neither. I started thinking they were lame when I became a teenager, but honestly nothing is more cool than a blanket fort.”

“Blanket fort with homemade cookies,” you correct him. “That’s way cooler.”

“Ah man, I should’ve gotten cookies. That definitely would’ve sealed the deal, wouldn’t it?”

You nodded, looking at him very seriously. “Oh yeah. This whole date is a bust because no cookies.”

“Fuck,” he silently swore. “I really thought things were going well.”

You both laughed as you pushed yourself to sit up, facing Jeff. “But seriously, this whole night is amazing. This - ” you gesture to the fort. “ - this is amazing. This is honestly the sweetest thing a guy has ever done for me.”

Jeff propped himself up on his elbow. “It’s just a blanket fort. It’s pretty simplistic for a first date.”

“The fact that you went out of your way to work around our schedules for the date in general means a lot to me,” you admit. “I’ve talked to guys who find out I work nearly 12 hours six days a week and they almost immediately give up on me. My last serious relationship we broke up because he didn’t like that I took the intern job without telling him first.”

“That’s awful,” Jeff said. “Those guys obviously don’t deserve you, then. Which is fine, cause their loss is my gain.”

You felt yourself blushing again. You pulled your hoodie up around your face so he wouldn’t see. Jeff laughed and sat up. He took your hoodie down from your face and cupped your cheeks. Before you knew what was happened, Jeff pulled you forward and kissed you.

You were frozen at first, not sure what to do, but slowly you melted into the kiss. Even the first kiss, which usually was somewhat awkward, felt so right. When Jeff pulled away, you felt tingly and fuzzy on the inside.

“So, how many months do I have to wait for the second date?” Jeff asked.

You made a face like you were thinking before responding, “How about tomorrow morning? I’ll make breakfast.”

Jeff smiled. “That sounds perfect to me.”

[golbrocklovely]

the chosen daughter // colby brock - chapter fourteen

A/N: sorry this took a long time to make. work has been kicking my ass recently and i’ve had like no time off. i finally get one after today so that’ll be nice. i’ll try to write more when i can. thank you to everyone that was so sweet when i came back, yall are seriously the best. as a treat, a special something finally happens in this chapter. alrighty, enjoy and lmk what you think !!

story description

taglist: @far-to-many-bands , @idfk-tbh-oops , @muted-mayham , @ughwhyislifesohard , @justtanerd , @ashyoungxblood ,  @cmburgos

trigger warning: cursing, angst, mentions of a massacre, surprise ending 👀

word count: 2385

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, this is what you guys do when you have a day off? Lounge around and be lazy?” Tara huffed.

I glanced at all of us quickly. Sam and Kat were cuddled up on the end of the couch I was laying on. Jake was on the other, sprawled out, and Colby sat on top, his feet digging into the cushion where Jake laid his legs.

“What would you like us to do Tara?” Colby deadpanned.

“Well, I'm thirsty.” Tara turned to Jake, “Jakey, could you get me something from the fridge?”

“Get it yourself.” Jake mumbled, scrolling through his phone.

Tara barked. “Jake. Get me a blood bag and some vodka. I want to have a party.”

“You know if you're so thirsty, you could just drink from me.” Jake dared, getting up from the couch.

“No thanks. I'd rather drink from Sam than you. No offense, Kat.” Tara sassed, crossing her arms.

Kat shrugged. “None taken.”

“But Tara… that's not how it played out the last time.” Jake sang, smirking.

Tara punched Jake in the shoulder hard, all of us busting out laughing. Jake winced as he stumbled into the kitchen, digging in the fridge.

“Tara, you do realize it's only 3 in the afternoon. Ain't it a bit early to be drinking?” Colby stated.

“No. I'm just... pregaming.” Tara smiled innocently, sitting down where Jake had been.

Mike and Kevin busted through the door suddenly, slamming it shut and locking it hastily.

“Woah, where's the fire?” Sam broke in, sitting up with Kat in his arms.

“Go lock up the windows, Mike. I don't want there to be any way in.” Kevin motioned. Mike nodded his head, rushing to the windows.

“What's the problem?” Jake questioned.

“We just got word from a very reliable source that an elder is coming to LA.” Kevin informed.

“Are you sure it's not just Tara?” Sam asked.

Mike shook his head. “No one knows about her being an elder, so it can't be her.”

“How do you know your sources are telling the truth?” Sam slid out of Kat’s hold, standing up.

“Apparently, he already flew in a couple days ago. Some of our boys down at the airport saw him.” Kevin replied.

“Who?” Jake requested.

Kevin’s voice darkened. “It’s Rinaldi.”

I could feel everyone’s body stiffen at the name. Not a single breath was taken.

Tara’s eyes bore at the floor. “Well, I've just lost my appetite.”

“Wait, who's Rinaldi?” I puzzled, looking around at everyone.

Colby answered. “He's one of the most powerful elders. He was like the second or third vampire ever turned.”

Jake agreed. “He's fucking terrifying, bro. I heard if his eyes land on yours, he could make your head explode, spontaneous combustion style.”

“I'm surprised you know those words, Jake.” Tara joked, her voice remaining monotone.

“Okay, so he's a big deal. But why would he come here?” I doubted.

“Who knows? All I know is that him being even remotely near us isn't good news. So, we gotta take extra precaution. So Jade-” Sam began.

I held my hand up, finishing his sentence. “’Stay here for a while’…I might as well keep a bag here.”

“Or you could start paying rent.” Mike retorted calmly.

Colby scowled. “Me and Sam don't even pay rent.”

I rolled my eyes at Mike, turning back to everyone. “I know this might be a dumb question, but besides the fact that he is super strong, why is everyone scared of him?”

Mike sneered. “Tara. Do you have something to tell the class?”

“Fuck you, Mike.” Tara hissed.

“What is it, Tara? Do you know something?” I uttered, my voice weakening from my nerves.

Tara exhaled, her eyes on me. “Rinaldi is one of the worst vampires I know. He's the reason why the vampire population is so small.”

I furrowed my brow.  “How does that make sense?”

“Back in 1872, he told a bunch of us elders that we should make a council, something to police the growing vampire population. He believed that a lot of vampires at the time were starting to get restless and wanted to come out to the public. The world was changing so fast, so they thought most people might be okay with vampires,” Tara chuckled sarcastically, her tongue clicking against her teeth. “I was against the council, mostly because I don't like running in groups and I hate authority. But also because that's not how most vampires felt. A lot wanted to stay hidden. But he made it very apparent that wasn't the case. So, the council was created. And by the summer of that year, the massacre happened.”

“A massacre?” I whispered, surprised.

“Rinaldi was working both sides. For some reason while creating the council, he was telling all the younger vampires that we elders were coming to attack them, take away their rights and kill them. He came at them as an elder against the council, when he was the whole reason it was a thing in the first place. The spirits are the ones who told me all of this, and I had warned that council that a war was gonna begin. They all laughed me off and told me I was lying. When the battle took place, so many vampires died, both elders and young. Our population went from over a thousand down all the way to a hundred. And of course, Rinaldi survived.” Tara fumed, her hands clenching harder with each word.

I gulped. “Holy shit.”

“After the massacre, every vampire that was left disappeared, moved away from each other. That way no one could attack them or know who they were. It wasn't until a hundred years later that the vampires that were still alive decided to start turning humans again.” Tara finished, relaxing her back against the couch.

Kevin nodded, crossing his arms. “I remember. It was a long time before I ever saw a vampire. I didn't even meet Mike until, what? 1982?”

My eyes widen. “Wait, Kevin, you were alive during the vampire massacre?”

“I fought in it. Or, was forced to. I was turned a year before the massacre.” Kevin recalled.

“And you two?” I glanced at Kat and Mike.

“Not until after. 1974.” Mike responded.

Kat chimed. “1983.”

Sam commented. “I'm dating a cougar.”

“Shut up.” Kat smacked his leg, a smile rising to his face.

“So that's why Rinaldi is terrifying. If he's here for some reason, it's not good. We have to be safe and stay as far away from him as we can.” Tara cautioned.

~ \/ \/ ~

After the lovely news of Rinaldi, I decided to take a nap before work, especially since now I was staying over the Trapp Haus longer than expected. When I finally woke up, I could hear the thumping of the club downstairs, but the rest of the apartment was silent. I slowly stumbled out of Sam's room, opening the door to the empty living space. The lights were dim, no one around.

“Hello? Anyone here?” I called out.

The continuous music from downstairs was the only response. I stared over at Colby's door, wondering if he was inside. I trudged over to his door, taking a deep breath.

“Colby?” I muttered.

Silence. I knocked three times, the door creaking open with the force of my hand.

I've never been inside his room before...

I flicked on the light, looking around at the unusual space. His room was a little messy, but nothing too crazy. His bed sheets and curtains were a dark black, his walls a deep shade of blue. A couple water bottles rested on his nightstand. His laptop sat haphazardly on his floor near his bed. His closet door was ajarred, clothes spilling out onto the floor.

“What are you doing in my room?”

I gasped, turning around to see Colby. His body was slightly tense, his eyes matching.

“Shit, sorry. I-I woke up and thought maybe you were in your room since no one was around.” I stuttered.

“I was downstairs helping Kevin get rid of an overly excited patron.” He revealed.

“Where's everyone else?” I queried, my arms crossing uncomfortably under his gaze.

“Sam and Jake are doing some research for a hunt. Kevin and Mike are downstairs, and Kat and Tara are out partying at Bloody.” He explained.

I bit my lip. “And you're here.”

“Someone has to protect you.” He remarked dryly, walking into the kitchen.

“Sorry.” I murmured.

“About what?” Colby glowered, leaning against the counter.

My eyes fell from his for a moment. “I mean, it's obvious that you don't want to be here... with me.”

Colby’s eyes softened as he fell silent, his hands holding the counter tight.

I turned to go back to Sam's room, only to be stopped by Colby's voice.

“That's not true. I like... having you around.” He interjected, “You have to know that.”

I exhaled, turning to face him again. I could feel my heart bang in my chest.

“You know, the other day there was this guy at my work, and he looked really sad. He and I got to talking and he asked me if I ever wanted something badly. Not something crazy hard to get, but something that's just out of my reach.” I stepped towards Colby, “And all I could think about was... you.”

Colby objected. “You shouldn't.”

“What? I shouldn't what?” I echoed.

“Think of me like that.” He shook his head.

“Why?” I demanded.

“Because I'm a monster. Do you know how easy it would be for me to lose control and kill you?” Colby threatened, closing the gap between us and getting in my face.

“You haven't done it before.” I argued.

Colby backed away at my words. “Yeah, but there's no guarantee that it won't happen. Plus, besides the fact that I crave your blood all the fucking time, I'm... a lost cause, Jade.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” I snapped, my hands resting on my hips.

“Whatever you think a relationship needs to have, you're not gonna get it from me. I'm damaged as hell. I trust little to no one. The kindness and love you deserve won't come from me. And you don't need something like that.” He scoffed.

“Then we take it slow, Colby. We don't have to fall headfirst into this. We can take our time. There is no time limit on this.” I ignored the aching memory in the back of my mind of Tara's reading.

“What makes you think I want to be with you anyway?” He jeered, his gaze pointing daggers at mine.

I growled. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?” Colby grunted.

“Try to be mean so you can push me away. I'm done walking on eggshells around you, Colby!” I exclaimed.

He groaned, racing to his room. “I-I can't do this right now.”

“I want you.”

He stopped abruptly, the muscles on his back tight.

“I want you, Colby. Even though you don't trust anyone, even though you could kill me. I still want you. I'm not gonna pretend I don't anymore.” I confessed.

He slowly spun around to look at me, his body rigid, eyes glaring.

“So, decide. Right now. Because I'm not gonna wait around forever.” I warned.

Colby bit his lips, staring at the ceiling. His hands twitched as he slid them across his face.

“I know you didn't lie that night we almost kissed. You're the one that said you wanted me close.” My voice fell to a whisper.

I could feel my face flush, my palms damp with moisture. I shuddered a breath as Colby looked into my eyes.

“You're right.”

He sighed deeply, shaking his head with a crooked smile.

“Fuck it.”

Colby raced up to me, smashing his lips onto mine as he thrusted me against his body. I immediately relaxed into him, my fingers finding their way into his hair to pull on his locks. I moaned against his lips as he picked me up easily, my legs wrapping around his waist. His hands gripped my thighs, bringing me over to the couch and placing us down. I straddled his lap, deepening the kiss as my tongue glided into his mouth.

He ripped his lips away, slamming them back down onto my neck. He kissed the hollow of my throat, his teeth scraping the skin, causing me to whimper in pleasure.

Colby pulled away suddenly, his breath coming out ragged as his hands clenched my waist hard. My eyes landed on his face, and a small gasp left my mouth. His crimson eyes stared back at me, dark black veins pulsing from under his eyes, his fangs protruding from his gums.

He stammered. “I-I'm sorry, I-I need to-”

“It's okay, Colby.”

I gently raised my hand to his face, watching for any sign of disapproval. My middle finger lightly traced the veins under his eyes, feeling them throb under my touch. Colby closed his eyes tight, allowing me to keep touching. His breaths slowed down, the veins disappearing. When he opened his eyes with an inhale, his eyes had returned to their intoxicating blue.

“Are you okay?” I asked quietly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I'm alright now.”

I leaned in and pecked his lips, breaking away only to see his reaction. He smiled lightly, his dimples surfacing sweetly.

My phone ringing broke me out of our trance. I grabbed my phone from my pocket and picked it up, noticing the time and who was calling.

I grumbled to Colby. “Shit, it's my boss.”

“Hey, sorry I'm-” I started.

Roger interrupted. “No need to come in now. One of our bathrooms overflowed and the whole place is flooded. It's gonna take a couple days to get fixed so, I'll see you next week at some point.”

“Oh, okay. See you then, Roger.” I hung up the phone, my eyes landing on Colby’s. “So, work’s cancelled for a while.”

“Well that's good.” He smirked.

“Why?” I questioned.

“Because then we can focus on more of this.”

Colby leaned in quickly, capturing my lips in a romantic kiss, instantly taking my breath away. I smiled against his lips, wrapping my arms around him again.

But even with my attention on Colby, my mind drifted back to Tara's words.

Please let her be wrong…

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