#my obsession with attempting an over-under split shot continues

[robo-dino-puppy]

hfw: burning shores | aloy 17/?

[toothpastecanyon]

A Name From the Mailbox, Chapter 4

Dipper finds out the author's name before Not What He Seems. It's not the person he expected.

See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.

______________________________________________________________

“The end times?”

The ride home had been strange so far. Dipper and Mabel exchanged glances before looking back at the old man sitting between them.

“There’s a doomsday device under Gravity Falls?” Dipper made a face. “No offense, but is this, uh, like the Gobblewonker situation?”

“It’s real! Look at these gravitational readings, kid!” He gestured at a matrix of numbers on the screen. “Waves of anomalies! And once it activates - you best be holding onto something, cause you’ll start floating up!”

Soos looked back. “Whoa. That sounds pretty cool, dude.”

“It’s not cool! It’s tearing a hole in our universe!”

“Aww.”

“Okay, okay, calm down,” Dipper raised a hand. “We can shut it down, right? Where is it?”

“Ohhh… I used to know, I don’t recall!”

“Maybe it’s in that old bunker?” Mabel sat forward. “We should go back there!”

“Maybe…” He frowned. “After the Shack, yeah.”

At that moment, Soos turned into the parking lot. Mabel’s frown deepened.

“Why after?”

“We’re already here, right? It’ll just take a second.” Dipper opened the door and jumped out. He held it for McGucket, and raised an eyebrow when Mabel remained in the car. “Mabel? Come on!”

“We should find the bunker, Dipper.”

“Yeah, we will, just-”

“We should go look for the bunker, now.” Mabel crossed her arms. “We just got told there’s a big scary thing that’s gonna end the world and you still want to look for Stan stuff? He’s not gonna know about a doomsday thingy.”

“Well, we don’t know that-”

“Dipper.”

Mabel was looking at him with a very knowing expression. He took one look at it, and then sighed.

“Well… if Stan’s the Author, he’s gotta know where it’ll be, right? He probably built it.” He watched Mabel raise her eyebrows. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Because I don’t think Grunkle Stan’s the Author, Dipper.” She pulled her hands into her sleeves. “You know that, right?”

Dipper hesitated. He looked back towards the house; Soos was opening the side door. “I mean, it’s very possible. And we’re already here, we might as well-”

Mabel got out of the car and pushed past him without a word. He frowned and hurried to catch up with her.

“Come on, Mabel. Don’t be like that.” A pause. “I don’t think it’d be in the bunker anyways. We looked all over that place.”

“Hey, dude!” Soos waved him over. “What are we looking for? I forgot.”

“It’s…” Dipper glanced one more time at Mabel, then jogged forwards. “It’s a big stack of papers, it should be in the living room. Come on.”

They entered the kitchen, and Dipper suddenly froze - was Stan back? He listened for a couple seconds, but the house was silent… eerily silent. They headed into the living room and were greeted by an empty chair - and no thesis, no picture to show Fiddleford.

“Of course,” Dipper frowned. “Stan must’ve put them somewhere.”

“...What is this place?”

A strange question - he glanced over, and found McGucket looking around the room.

“Oh, it’s just our house,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “I bet he still has it somewhere. Soos, you know where he hides stuff, right?”

“Yeah… he says I’m supposed to keep them secret, though. Like the money under the squeaky step on the stairs, the arrest warrants under the rug in the gift shop…” He counted them off with his fingers. “The wallets in the Sascrotch…”

“Okay, cool, you can take the gift shop.” Dipper looked over at McGucket. “And, uh, take him too, I guess. Mabel and I- oh, you know where it might be? His office, we’ll go there.”

“Okay,” said Mabel. He cringed a bit at her tone, but continued.

“Alright, if we find it, we can meet back up. It’ll be hard to miss, it’s like a giant stack of paper, and it’ll have Stan’s picture on top.”

“Got it, dude.” Soos shot finger guns at him as he backed away. “Come on, McGucket, it’s this way.”

The two of them shuffled out of sight, and Dipper nodded to Mabel.

“Alright, let’s, uh, go.”

“Yeah, to the office.”

Mabel turned and started walking to the back. He trailed along behind her.

“Yeah, it’ll just be quick,” he said. Paused. Then: “It’s worth checking out. I mean, you saw the same stuff I saw. It’s not at least a little weird to you that he’s got a whole PhD on anomalous events even though he never-”

“Yeah, Dipper, you told me already.”

“Then why doesn’t it make sense to check it out?” He opened the door to the office. “If he’s not the author, then we can just go to the next thing, right?”

Mabel snorted. “Oh yeah, and you’re totally ready to let this go. I know you, dum dum. You’re gonna spend the rest of the summer obsessing about this, and not in a fun way. In the ‘arguing with Grunkle Stan every night’ way.”

“Well… well, it’s weird, isn’t it? Stan is hiding something.” He made a beeline for the paper shredder, and picked it up. “Look, look! This thing’s stuffed - ugh, I bet he shredded it! Now why do you think he’d do that?”

“I dunno?” Mabel poked at the paper copier. “Hey, do you remember that dance party we had? Maybe we could ask Grunkle Stan to throw another one!”

“Oh, that? Oh, that…” He started going through the papers scattered around the desk. “I remember that. I didn’t really get to spend a lot of time at it, I was, uh…”

“Trying to nerd your way into dancing with Wendy?”

“Yeah, yeah... Mabel, look!” He grabbed a piece of paper. “There’s one page he didn’t shred for some reason - and it’s the one with his picture! Yes!” He flipped it over to show her. “Look, it is him, right down to the glasses! And he’s building the Mystery Shack - tell me that’s not him!”

Mabel frowned at the photo. She started to open her mouth, but-

There was a sound. A yell. A cry. Both of them locked eyes, and without a word they ran for the gift shop.

“Are you guys okay?” Dipper said as he burst through the door. The first thing he saw was McGucket, on the floor, trembling. “McGucket?”

“I seen it!” McGucket stabbed a finger at - the vending machine? “I seen it, right down there! It’s there!”

“What’s here?” Mabel tried to help him up, but he scrambled away. “What’s wrong?”

“The machine… my mind… I’m not going down there again! You can’t make me!”

Then he bolted for the door. Soos tried to grab him, but he was gone in a flash, the door slamming shut behind him. Dipper blinked, and then looked to Soos.

“Uh… what happened?”

“I dunno, dude! One minute he was fine, I turn around and suddenly he’s freaking out!” Soos picked up a case on the counter. “He left his laptop, too.”

“Weird.” Mabel took it from him. “What do you think he saw? Dipper?”

Dipper wasn’t right beside her. He had walked a couple paces forward, towards the vending machine.

“Dipper?”

It looked normal, mundane. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d passed by this thing without sparing it a second glance. There was nothing really to draw the eye; no flashy colours, no display lights on the snacks, no attempt from Stan to dress it up as any sort of attraction. It was maybe the most normal looking thing in the gift shop, but…

He reached out. Felt the sides. There was decades’ worth of grime caught between the metal edge and the wooden wall, but as his fingers slid down, they came across something - a bump?

He looked.

A hinge.

______________________________________________________________

Shit. Shit, shit. Did he lose them?

Heart beating in his chest, Stan slowly raised himself up, and looked out the side of the van he was driving. Through the cracks in the grass, he could see lights from the highway silhouetting the trees he looked through. White lights - no red and blue, though it was harder to tell with the feds.

He grit his teeth, and forced his shoulders down. It had been quiet for a while. If they were gonna find him here, they would’ve done it by now.

“Alright, Stan,” he grunted. Opened the door. “Hard part’s done. Now I just need to get it home.”

He rubbed his forehead as he got out of the van; there was a split in it that had stopped bleeding not that long ago. He cast one look to the front, to the smoking engine crumpled into the side of a thick trunk, and limped his way to the back - past the side of the van that read ‘OFFICIAL WASTE DISPOSAL VEHICLE’ in large letters. He unlatched the rear doors, opened them, and shone a flashlight inside.

There was the shine of several metal cylinders. One of them had flown up a little in the collision and was resting sideways on the others. It looked like it had a pretty bad dent in it, but nothing looked to be leaking out; not noticeably, at least.

“Hmph.” He nodded a little. “I can work with this. Alright.”

There was a tarp and a couple construction signs thrown about the back; he covered the van, set up a few signs to keep away curious onlookers, then started off through the forest. It slow and dark, but, as he checked his watch, not dark for too much longer. The kids’d be up if he took too long, so he groaned and forced himself to walk a little faster.

Shouldn’t’ve tried to rush this job, he thought. Should’ve learned his lesson from Columbia. If the feds weren’t onto him before, they sure were now. Maybe he should get out of town for a bit, take the kids on a little road trip…

He made a face. Miss the portal opening, probably. Thirty years of work, and he might not even be there to see it pay off.

There was a tug and a ripping sound as his pantlegs brushed past a thorny bush, and he swore under his breath.

“Great. Just great.” Finally he trudged his way out onto the Shack’s parking lot. “Alright, focus. Gotta work quickly.”

Stan grabbed some supplies stashed by the outhouse and loaded them into his car. He put the seats back, started it, and drove right back to where he’d hit the trees; for once he was driving carefully, following the speed limit. Once he saw the flash of construction signs down in the forest, he turned off his headlights and drove slowly down to the van.

There, he stopped. Pulled the tarp off. The words emblazoned across the sides of the van were really gonna catch the eye of whoever found this thing; he took a can of spraypaint and quickly covered them, paused, and then replaced it with ‘PROPERTY OF TENT OF TELEPATHY’ After that, he opened the back and loaded as many drums of waste into his car that he could. When he ran out of space, he wrapped two in the tarp and tied them to the roof.

Stan tightened them one last time, and stepped back to catch his breath.

There. Now all he had to do was get home.

The sky was just barely beginning to lighten as Stan pulled back into the Mystery Shack. He pulled off his gloves as he made his way toward the gift shop, opened the door, and walked towards the vending machine.

Something did catch his eye, though. There was something on the register with a little red light; he picked it up, and immediately he could feel it was a little camera… A camera that was currently recording. Stan frowned at that, and looked up, up to the vending machine it was pointed at.

He had a bad feeling about this. And a second later when he heard a strange creak from the corner of the gift shop, he reached down, grasped the baseball bat leaning against the side of the counter, and made his way to the sound.

He stepped silently, avoiding the squeaky floorboards. There was definitely a figure in the corner, but… smaller than he was expecting. It didn’t look like an agent, actually, it looked more like…

“Kid?”

Dipper squinted when the flashlight came on. Stan breathed a sigh of relief - yup, it was just him - before a new fear started churning his stomach.

“What are you doing here kid? It’s late, you should be in bed!” He shone the flashlight lower. “Are those IDs? Did you go rooting through my room?”

“It is late. Where have you been, Grunkle Stan?”

Stan glanced back to his car. He really didn’t have time for this.

“And what happened to your face?”

“Eh… woodpecker.” Stan motioned him up. “Cmon, kid, off to bed with you. Your parents’d kill me if they found out how late you’re up.”

“Since when have you cared about how late we stay up?”

“Since right now, kid, so-“

“No!” Dipper crossed his arms, and there was a strange shine in his eyes. “What’s wrong with me sitting here? In this room?”

“Dipper.”

“You’re hiding something, aren’t you!”

“Dipper, you’re trying my patience.” He glanced back again. “Look, how about I cut you a deal. You go to bed, tomorrow we can have a proper talk about this, alright?”

“What, so you can tell me more about how you aren’t the Author?” He rose to his feet. “You know, ‘Stan’, at first I thought you weren’t telling me because you wanted to ‘protect me’ or whatever, but now I know what you’re up to. McGucket, he saw what the machine was gonna do to the world, but you kept going, didn’t you?”

“McGucket? What?”

“It’s too late to play dumb, Stan! I know what you’re really hiding. There’s a doomsday machine under the Mystery Shack!”

Stan heard that, and the first thing that came out of his mouth was a startled snort. “What?” He managed. “You spent this whole time trying to figure me out, and you came up with that?”

But the look in his eyes… wow, he was serious about this, wasn’t he?

“You really think I’m building a doomsday machine?” Stan laughed again, but it rang hollow against Dipper’s unsmiling expression. “Have a little faith in me, kid, come on. I’m not trying to end the world.”

“You’re lying.” He said, trying to puff out his chest. “And I’m not gonna let you do this. I’m gonna stop you.”

At that, Stan let out a deep sigh. He looked up at the first morning rays peeking through the blinders, and then back at his nephew.

“Go to bed, kid.”

“No. I’m gonna stay here, I’m- hey!”

In one move, Stan picked him up and hoisted him over his shoulder. He started towards the back, wincing a bit as Dipper pounded on his shoulder.

“Let me go, Grunkle Stan! Let me go!”

Up the stairs. Dipper tried to wiggle out of his grip, but he held him firmly in place.

“You’ve just proved I’m right, you know! You’re not gonna get away with this!”

Stan made his way up to the attic, opened the door, and set dipper down in the bedroom. He blocked Dipper from squeezing past him as he started swinging it closed.

“Stan!”

“We’ll talk about this tomorrow. You get some rest.” As the gap narrowed, he saw the light landing on Mabel’s bed. She almost looked asleep, but he could see her staring back at him. “Night, kids.”

Then he shut the door, turned the lock… and after a second of hesitation he dragged a chair over and slotted it under the handle. A bit extreme, he thought, but the kid was smart. Tonight wasn’t the night to take chances.

Stan backed away, and started back down the steps.

He was so close, now. So close.

And no one was going to get in his way.

Hours later, when Dipper was slumped half-asleep against the door, he grunted at a strange light. It wasn’t like the sunlight; it was strangely blue, and as he bolted up and rubbed his eyes, he could see it shining up from between the floorboards.

Then he felt… strange. Light. He yelped as his feet suddenly left the ground, and suddenly everything in their bedroom was starting to float up, up; McGucket’s laptop, slowly spinning in the air, beeped and displayed a message that made his blood go cold:

MACHINE STATUS: ACTIVE

And then suddenly the weightlessness vanished, and he dropped back down, scrambled over to the laptop.

“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, his face lit red from warning signs. “Stan, what are you doing?”

[maybe-a-fangurl]

The Moon and the Sun (Zuko x Reader) part 9

I’m back!! I am so sorry that it has taken so long to update this story, school started and I just got completely wrapped up in that and then had the worst writers block but I am starting to get back into things. I have also recently become OBSESSED with Harry Potter and have a few one shot ideas (and will gladly take requests) but my priority right now is this story and I will be trying to post at least once a week again. But here is the new chapter, and I hope you all enjoy and that it was worth the wait!! 

Part 1 Part 8

Masterlist

It was a simple plan, follow Jet to where they were keeping Appa. That was all you had to do but you shouldn’t have been surprised that things didn’t go as planned, for you at least. You were walking at the back of the group, and as they went around the corner you were spotted by a Dai Lee agent. You of course told everyone to go as you ran in the opposite direction, causing the Dai Lee agent to follow you and not notice the others, who you know weren’t happy about you getting split up from the look on Sokka’s face as you ran away, but you knew it was for the best. It didn’t take long for you to lose the Dai Lee agent, but you quickly realized that you had no idea where you were or which way to go to get back to the group.

Even though you were lost, you had to admit that the silence was something you found almost endearing. Silence was one of the things you missed about traveling with Zuko, you could always go out on the deck of the ship and just look out at the endless blue of water and sky. You loved your new friends, but they overwhelmed you at times and there was hardly ever a moment to just catch your breath since you were constantly on the move.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t hear the footsteps walking towards you, and as you rounded the corner you ran into someone and were sent to the ground. You didn’t look to see who it was before you took all of the water from the floor of the tunnels and used it to hit the person right in the chest, sending them to the ground in front of where you were but before you could get up you felt something connect with your hands and you looked to see it was rocks. You quickly looked up to see that three Dai lee agents were standing in front of you, and one on the ground from where you hit him with water.  

“You’re with the Avatar.” One of the Dai Lee agents said as they looked at you, and you felt your heart drop as you realized they would use you against Aang just like they were doing with Appa if they captured you. You were quick to use your feet to bring the water at the group, sending them all to the ground as you scrambled to your feet, and by the time you had broken the rocks around your hands, all of the men were back on their feet.  

“I couldn’t just stay with the others.” You mumbled to yourself as you froze the floor under them before turning and running in the other direction, hearing the soldiers yell as they tried to get across the ice. You kept running, ignoring the yelling behind you as you turned a corner that led to a hallway with a dead end. You turned around, planning to go in the other direction but as you turned you were hit in the chest by one of the rock fists. The sudden impact knocked the breath out of you, you were sent backwards and when you hit the ground everything went black.

--

“You and I would have made such an amazing team, not as good as you and Zuzu but we would have been powerful together. If only the two of you wouldn’t have ruined it.” You heard a cold voice say as you slowly started to become aware of the pain in the back of your head. You slowly opened your eyes before letting out a groan and putting your hands over your face, the light causing a sharp pain to go through your head. “Ah you’re awake, I knew that my voice would bring you back.”

You slowly pulled your hands away from your eyes and as you looked up you seen Azula standing with a smirk on her face. You looked at her with your eyebrows knitted before looking around, trying to figure out where you were but you realized that you were still in what looked like the Dai Lee’s headquarters.

“What are you doing here?” You asked as you realized that if you were still at the Dai Lee headquarters that meant that Azula was in Ba Sing Se. You quickly got up from the ground, trying to ignore the pounding in your head as the room started to spin.

“Not happy to see me?” Azula asked as she looked at your attempt of a defensive stance. You just narrowed your eyes as you finally were able to look at her, and when you did you noticed that she was in a Kyoshi warrior armor.

“Where did you get that?” You asked through gritted teeth, her smirk only growing at your reaction.

“Mai, Ty Lee, and I ran into some of your friends. Don’t worry they’re all okay, just in prison. But their little dresses were able to get us into Ba Sing Se and then I met with the Dai Lee and we’ve all been great friends since.” She said in a pride filled voice, one that made your skin crawl.

You knew that right now you wouldn’t be able to beat her in a fight, but you also knew that since you were injured she wouldn’t expect anything. So, while she was focused on her story you took your chance and lunged at her, causing her to let out a small scream as the two of you went to the ground. You were quick to pin her arms down with your knees and use the rest of your weight to hold down her torso. The shock on her face was quickly replaced with anger as she struggled against you but eventually let out a sigh and glared at you.

“What are you going to do? Hold me down until your friends come? Well I hate to tell you, but they aren’t going to make it.” She said, and your heart dropped at her words, and you pressed down harder against her arms as you narrowed your eyes.  

“Why are you here Azula?” You asked in a cold tone, one that shocked her, but she didn’t let it show as she let out another cold laugh.

“I’m here to take the Earth Kingdom, claim it in the name of the Fire Nation.” She said in a calm voice, the pride and arrogance practically dripping from her lips as she looked up at you with that same smirk that she had been wearing since you were kids.

“You’re not going to.” You said, trying to sound sure of it but even you didn’t believe it. You knew that if she had all of the Dai Lee agents with her along with Mai and Ty Lee, and possibly other fire nation soldiers along with the element of surprise that the Earth Kingdom didn’t stand a chance.

“I already have.” She stated and before you had the chance to say anything back you heard the door open and looked to see Mai and Ty Lee walk in, both of them letting out a gasp as they seen you pinning Azula down.

“I really didn’t think you had it in you.” Mai said in a flat tone, and you knew that deep down she enjoyed seeing Azula being bested.

“You could join us you know.” Ty Lee pleaded, and as you moved your eyes away from Mai to her you could see the desperation in her eyes. “You could help us.”

“She wouldn’t even betray her new friends for Zuzu, don’t think that she would for us.” Azula said and you watched Ty Lee’s face drop, realization setting in. They knew that they weren’t going to change your mind, that things would never be the same as they were when you were kids, but it didn’t make it hurt any less. And you would be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you as well, because deep down you longed to be on the same side as your friends.

“I’m sorry.” You mumbled as you looked away from Ty Lee and over to Mai, and right as you made eye contact her gaze hardened.

“Me too.” Mai said as she started to throw knifes your way, you were able to dodge the first one but the second one caught your arm and you were forced to move off of Azula to dodge the third one.

As you stood back up the room spun a little bit from your head still being tender, and the spinning was enough to make you miss the fourth knife coming your way until it was right in front of you. You tried to dodge it but you stumbled and it slid across the side of your face, causing Ty Lee to let out a gasp. Before you had any time to react Azula swept your feet out from under you, causing you to land on your back as you let out a groan.  “Truly you should have thought all of that through just a little more.” Azula said as she stood up and rubbed her arms where your knees were just moments ago. You tried to get up but before you could you felt something pin your wrist to the ground and as you looked up you seen Dai Lee agents entering the room. You tried to pull your hands out of the rock fists, but it was no use, and as you looked over at Azula you seen a pity filled look before she put her stoic expression back on. “You know where to take her.”

“Yes princess.” The man said as you were pulled up from the ground, and they started dragging you towards a door.

“I’m really sorry it has to be this way, but I assure you that you won’t be alone for very long.” She said, and you watched as the smirk returned to her face. “You and Zuzu can have some quality time, if he doesn’t put up too much of a fight.” “No.” You said as you realized she knew that him and Iroh were here. You started to move around, trying to get loose from the agents grip on your arms but it was no use. “Azula, you better not hurt him!” “Well I can’t make any promises, he is traitor to the Fire Nation after all.” She said as her smirk grew, and you tried to fight harder against the guards.

“Azula!” You yelled as they continued to drag you away, you yelled as many threats as you could at her, but you knew they were all pointless. She was going to do whatever she wanted to do and there was nothing that you could do about it.

You felt numb as you were left alone in a chamber full of crystals, and it took everything in you to sit up and lean against one of the crystals. You were able to use the rest of the water in your pouch to heal the cut on your arm and face the best you could but with the small amount of water you knew that there would still be a scar.

“I should have just stayed with them.” You mumbled to yourself as you laid your head back against the crystals and closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion take over.

“Zuko what happened to your eye?” You asked as you rushed over to him, putting your hand on the side of his face as you looked at him. His eye was badly bruised, and as you looked closer at him you realized that he had a cut across his nose as well. “Who did this?” “I don’t want to talk about it.” He grumbled as he pushed you away, walking past you and down the hallway. “Well I want you to.” You said as you walked behind him, trying to catch up with him. “I want to know who did this to you.” “It isn’t any of your business!” Zuko yelled as he turned around and looked at you, his hand going up and pointing at you, causing you to flinch. His eyes got wide as he seen you flinch and he immediately brought his hands to his side as he looked at you with sad eyes. “I’m sorry, I just don’t want to talk about it.” “Okay.” You said and before you could say anything else he turned and walked away from you. You let out a sigh before walking towards the turtle duck pond, it was one of the only places in the castle that you truly felt like you belonged. Everywhere else felt so hot and dry but by the pond you could felt at home, you could feel the water moving around the pond and feel the water within the plants.  

You sat down and looked down at the turtle ducks as they swam around, bringing a small smile to your face before the thought of Zuko raising his hand and yelling at you made it disappear.

“Why so sad y/n? Is Zuzu mad about being bested and not talking to you?” She asked in a cocky tone as she walked up behind you, and you turned to see her signature smirk on her face, but as she seen the look on your face is softened a little bit. “Don’t tell me he took his anger out on you.” “It was my fault I shouldn’t have pushed him.” You said before raising your eyebrows at her comment. “What do you mean bested?” “We spared today, and I beat him.” She said in a proud tone, but her smirk fell as you looked at her, causing her to let out a scoff. “Don’t be mad that I’m better than your boyfriend.” “He isn’t my boyfriend.” You said to her before looking back at the water. “I just don’t understand why you have to take things so far, you didn’t have to hurt him.” “I didn’t have to, but I wanted to.” She said as she sat down beside you, and you just shook your head as you kept your eyes on the water.

“He’s your brother, you shouldn’t want to hurt him.” You said as you let out a sigh and looked over at her. “Your mother always wanted the two of you to get along, and I do too because it’s insufferable when the two of you are fighting, especially when you try to use me against one another.” “Well my mother isn’t here so it doesn’t really matter what she wants, does it?” She asked in a cold tone as she turned away from you, looking at the turtle ducks. “And I don’t bother using you against Zuko, it’s no use because you always chose him over me.” “That isn’t true Azula, and you know it.” You said to her, but she just let out a scoff.

“It’s okay, I know the truth.” She said in the same cold tone as before, but her words were less bitter and more sorrowful than before. “You and Zuzu will always be the perfect team, me never having your true loyalty.”

Part 10

@tpwkatsumu @caswinchester2000 @frickin-bats @winchestergirl907 @eridanuswave @the-firebender-girl @myarthetics @royahllty @izzieserra @akariblue  @coldlilheart @thirstyforsometea @cirtruss @lammello @bigbuckyenergy @aangsupremacy @lozzybowe @duh-dobrik @emogril @justab-eautifulmess @whalerus @im-me-and-noone-else @nataliahaslosthershit @oddment-niwit-blubber-tweak @slytherky @shemakesfanvids @sokkas-honour

[jensungf]

𝐒𝐔𝐆𝐀𝐑 & 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐂𝐄 ♥︎ 𝐥.𝐣𝐧

summary: sugar or spice? you decide what the ‘s’ in today’s episode of j♥︎smr stands for ;) ft. the pocky challenge gone wrong?

pairing: fem!reader + asmr youtuber!jeno  genre: boyfriend!au + fluff + suggestive content!!!! + some humor cus i think im funny word count: 2.4k  warnings: allusions to sex, making out lol

author’s note: soooo uh first time for everything aka writing sum suggestive hehe thank you mary @neostains for reading over this!!! and @gohyuck for helping make the title!! can you tell i’m whipped for jeno??? bc i definitely can.

“jenooooo,” you flopped over onto your stomach as your eyes followed the outline of boyfriend’s jawline, drinking in every part of his handsome face until you found his eyes. his rimmed glasses were perched on top of his nose as he mindlessly scrolled through his phone, not even bothering to look up. typical, you thought with pursed lips and a side-eye directed at your un-attentive idiot of a boyfriend. “what, baby?”

you sighed, outstretching your body on the bed before rolling over to look at him again. you prop yourself up on your elbow with your head rested in the palm of your hand. “i’m bored,” you whined.

“okay, what do you want to do?” he asked without missing a beat. it was already past noon, and as per your agreement before moving in together, sundays were strictly saved to stay in and relax. but for some reason, you were just itching to get out of bed.

you pondered over your options before exhaling in exasperation. “i have no idea! you figure it out.”

you didn’t even didn’t bother to bat an eyelash when you heard his immediate suggestion to go biking, instead groaning at your boyfriend’s obsession with the pastime. he never liked to leave the house unless it was the gym or going out to do something physical, much to your dismay.

“jeno, as much as i love you and my bike, my legs might give out if i even try to move from our bed,” you huffed, lips jutted out as you glanced down to your legs. goddamn, were they sore.

you groaned externally at the tension in your overworked muscles. you even had trouble getting up to make breakfast today. jeno had awoken to your whimpers of pain as you struggled to walk to the restroom, and instead of asking if you were okay, he had immediately burst out in laughter at your misery. your incessant whines prompted him to carry you back to bed after you finished washing up in the restroom, and he had sweetly brought you breakfast in bed with a side of cuddles to make up for what you deemed was “all his fault.” not that it actually was, but you weren’t going to admit that.

he finally lifted his eyes from the luminescent phone screen to your figure sprawled on the other side of your shared king size bed, his lips curling to a smug grin as he reached over to let his fingers graze your smooth legs. “wow, is my baby that sore?”

“yeah, yeah, whatever mister muscle pig. not all of us have the stamina of a horse,” you sniggered, pouting. you could never understand how strong and built jeno could be despite sharing almost the same diet as you. just your luck.

jeno’s smirk grew as leaned over, his warm breath tickling your ear. his voice dropped down multiple octaves as he whispered, “watch it princess, that’s not what you were saying last ni—“

you suddenly sat up, effectively cutting him as your boyfriend recoils to avoid bonking noggins with you. “wait, i know!” you announce, the sound of your boyfriend’s voice attempt to sound sexy suddenly triggering a lightbulb in your brain.

“hey! i was trying to say something,” he complained, causing you to roll your eyes.

“oh, please, your hormones can wait, big boy.”

he shot you a look of annoyance as you grinned mischievously, crawling over to his side. he gulped as he saw your oversized t-shirt ride up a bit, exposing more of your skin. you leaned in towards him, causing him to drop his phone, as the mere scent of you engulfed his senses. the sultry look on your face and your hot breath fanning against his ear caused goosebumps to prickle throughout every inch of his skin, and his breath hitched.

you whispered, “why don’t we—”

you paused as jeno’s smirk returned, biting his lip in anticipation.

“— do jsmr?” you finished with a laugh.

jeno groaned as his anticipation immediately died down. he shot you an incredulous look. “really, baby?”

“yes! now get your booty up!” you barked, tugging on his biceps to no avail. jeno sighed and bit back a smile before he got out of bed, shuffling his feet across the room. before you could cackle in delight, you felt your body being lifted off of the bed as jeno’s strong arms carried you bridal-style into the corridor. your arms flailed for a split-second before relaxing in his embrace. “show off,” you scoffed as your arms reached to circle around his neck.

he snorted. “aren’t you happy i’m a muscle pig?” you smiled and pressed a sloppy kiss to his cheek.

“my man,” you drawl out sarcastically, squeezing his muscles and poking his chest jokingly.

jeno walked into the living room, carefully setting you down on the couch before heading into the kitchen. “what do you want to eat, babe?” he asked.

“on second thought, i’m actually not that hungry.”

jeno’s head whirled to your direction, “seriously? again?” you laughed at your boyfriend’s raised eyebrows and eyes bulging out of his sockets at your incessant teasing.

“i’m kidding, you can choose.”

jeno mumbled under his breath, “how ridiculous— we just went shopping last week— did jisung eat the ice cream again?” as he looked through the fridge. you couldn’t help but snort at how quickly your groceries had disappeared after a single visit by the boys. he rummaged through the pantry before a small aha! escaped his lips, having found the boxes of pocky you both stashed in the secret compartment of your pantry (yes, secret compartment, because everyone knew how quickly the boys would raid your food the moment they even stepped into the apartment). you decide to set up the camera and tripod, fiddling around and fishing for jeno’s set of microphones and earbuds from the desk.

“hey babe, where did you put the earbuds?” you called out. you bit your lip as you dug through the drawers, struggling to find where you had put your earbuds. “i’ll get it,” he responded.

you returned to the living room and admired your handiwork as you finished setting up the equipment. jeno returns with the snacks and earbuds.

“are you ready?” he asked, and you nodded your head eagerly as he reached over to start the camera, the red light flashing as the timer started.

“hi everyone!” you whispered-screamed, causing jeno to wince away from you. you bit back a laugh at your boyfriend’s anguished face and jeno sighed, continuing. “hi guys, welcome back to another episode of jsmr—“

“plus y/n!” you piped up. “today, we’re going to be doing the pocky challenge!” you announce excitedly despite only whispering.

“wait, what?” jeno’s volume is forgotten, causing both of you to flinch. “shhh, jeno!” you scolded.

he gave you an unamused look. “i wasn’t aware of this though!” he protested. you grinned cheekily before turning to the camera. “surprise! did you guys like his reaction??”

as much as you weren’t a huge fan of being in his videos, you figured it would be fun to let go for once and mess with your boyfriend.

jeno sighed and decided to go along with you, another idea formulating in his head. “anyway— i guess we’re doing the pocky challenge today,” he mumbled disdainfully. you beamed at his words before softly grabbing a box of pocky off the table and showcasing it to the camera. jeno grabs your hand and you both start messing with the packaging before jeno begins to whisper again.

“today we have the strawberry pocky— sorry jaems, this isn’t for you,” said jeno. you both carefully open the box, trying to stifle your laughter as the decibel meter suddenly turns red. you smack jeno as he fails to keep quiet, and he returns the favor by tickling you. thanks to your competitive streak with jeno, you both had decided to dare each other to see who could open it the quietest with the loser having to play overwatch with hyuck. you had easily won of course, skillfully and stealthily opening the box.

jeno begins grumbling, realizing he would have to suffer hours trying to beat donghyuck at overwatch, which unfortunately, happened to not be his favorite video game. “not my fault you suck,” you taunted. he retaliated by extending his hand out to cover your mouth, effectively shutting you up as he turned the camera with his signature eye smile.

you punched his stomach after prying his hand off of you, and glared at him.

“and that, my friends, is why i’m the best at asmr,” you gloat victoriously, pretending to snobbily ignore your boyfriend with a childish “hmph!”  

jeno sighed in defeat. “i let her win, don’t be fooled.” jeno rolls his eyes with a smile.

“nah, that just means he’s whipped for me,” you raise your eyebrows suggestively at your boyfriend. he grins and attacks your sides with tickles, causing you to scream and fight against him as your earbuds fall out. both of you burst into laughter. you squirmed away to no avail as your boyfriend’s strong arms held you back. you both regain your composure before returning your attention back to the camera.

jeno was usually not this touchy on camera, choosing to keep your relationship private, making you silently wonder if he was actually going to upload this. you narrowed your eyes suspiciously as your innocently oblivious boyfrined. he grabs your earbuds and helps you fix your disheveled appearance with jabs about how crazy you looked, leading you to grab a piece of pocky and shoving it in his mouth to get him to shut up.

“anyways, for anyone who doesn’t know what the pocky challenge is— it’s basically a challenge where you have a piece of pocky, and two people eating it from each end,” you explained, voice dropping back down to a whisper.

jeno finishes the pocky and nods, leaning into the microphone to continue, “the first person whose mouth moves off the stick loses. you have to get to the middle first to win. if the participants end up kissing, it is a tie.” he makes a funny face at the camera at the mention of kissing, wriggling his eyebrows as he wrinkles his nose in fake disgust. you slap his arm, sniggering. whoever said he wasn’t funny was blind, you thought in amusement at your boyfriend’s childish antics.

you turn to your boyfriend, your competitiveness igniting a fire in your eyes. “are you ready to lose, babe?” you mock haughtily. you crossed your ears and jutted your chin away from him dramatically.

“only in your dreams, sweetheart,” jeno shot back teasingly, his eyes crinkling.

“hah, you wish.” you position the strawberry-covered biscuit between your lips to firmly secure your end of the stick. you motion for jeno to get closer, as he daintily places the other end of the pocky above his supple bottom lip. you steady yourself by holding onto his broad shoulders, and began by taking the first bite, lips slowly inching towards jeno’s. the air in the room is thick with tension as you stare down jeno’s determined eyes. he was trying his best not to downright laugh at how adorable you were right now, his competitiveness consuming him as he plotted another plan in the back of his mind.

not a sound could be heard throughout the silent room, only the deep breathing and sound of the biscuit being broken into pieces. your body stiffened. you could feel his breath getting closer to yours and smell the slight whiff of his cologne and the laundry detergent despite the strong artificial smell of strawberry. jeno’s gaze was locked on your face, his body unmoving except for his head and mouth, leaning closer and closer to you. you both inched towards one another, and you were almost at the middle, at victory, when—

jeno abruptly bit off a huge piece of pocky before connecting his lips with yours. you pull back in surprise and finish the remaining piece of biscuit before realizing what had happened.

this idiot really just cheated.

you open your mouth to shout at him yet the indignant shrieks on the tip of your tongue are suddenly swallowed by his plush lips pressed against yours. all signs of protest leave your body as you get lost in the sweet taste of your boyfriend. as your hands found purchase in his hair, the earbuds fall out without a second thought, long forgotten. your eyes flutter shut and you melt into the kiss, hands moving down to loop around his neck and rest at his nape.

it felt like jeno knew you like the back of his hand, knowing every one of your weak spots as he cupped your jaw with one hand and traced circles with the pad of his thumb onto your cheek. his hands soon wander to snake under the shirt that you were wearing (which oh so conveniently happen to be his) to rest comfortably against your hips; his touch cool against the warmth of your skin.

you sighed contentedly as you both parted to take a breath of air. after a brief moment, jeno takes another opportunity to reattach his lips, his tongue slipping past your lips to savor the sweetness of the tart strawberry flavor. you part your lips more, simply by instinct, to allow the kiss to deepen, and you can’t help but moan a little. his kisses soon turn needier by the second, with you gripping onto the nape of his neck and with him pulling you into his lap. his tongue explored your mouth with lazy yet languid motions, and you pull away breathlessly.

jeno smirks at your dazed face before he swoops in, not giving you a chance to stay away for long.

“you.” peck. “lose.” peck.

jeno mumbles more incoherent words into your skin, peppering kisses from your lips to everywhere else on your face. he moves down to leave a trail of wet kisses from your jawline to your neck. you tilt your head back to allow him more access to your throat as he begins sucking your skin, his teeth lightly grazing each sweet spot. his fingers dance from your hips down to grab your ass as you grind into his lap more, earning jeno the pleasure of hearing your small whine. you exhale blissfully as splotches of red and purple begin blooming all across your neck.

suddenly the gleaming light catches your attention. you gasp and smack jeno, causing him to pout and halt in his ministrations. “what?” he asks almost irritatedly— only to see you point at the camera.

“oh my god— it’s still rolling!” you shriek.

you cover your red, swollen lips and feel your face turn hot as jeno stares blankly. realization settles in before his mouth drops in shock, ears turning red.

he had forgotten about the camera.

jeno quickly reaches over to shut it off as you stare in horror. he scratches his neck awkwardly as you groan and slump back on the couch. jeno suddenly becomes amused at your reaction despite his embarrassment. as much as he didn’t expect for his little stunt to ruin the competition to go this far, he had to enjoy the fact that he managed to make you go from brimming with confidence to a flustered and unsurprisingly, turned on mess.

“what is it, babe? are you really that embarrassed?” he teased, his crescent eyes gazing in adoration at you.

you turn to look at jeno in shock, your mouth agape.

“jeno, we almost made a sex tape!”

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

Top 5 Most Hated Characters

As y’all can see, this week’s T5F is a request sent in by anon. I picked it because I guess at the time I thought it would be fun to explore some of TWDG’s least popular, and most hated, characters while also taking into account characters that I can’t stand. 

These are characters that the vast majority of us don’t like or downright despise for many different reasons. None of us are going out of our ways to defend most of these bastards, and anyone who is I get the impression they’re doing so for the sake of being Different™... though while looking around for info about these characters and what people were saying about them, I did find myself in some odd places.... come across, eh... odd fanart. 

But I guess this is the part where I say this is all in good fun and if you happen to be a legit stan of any of these people, that’s cool. Maybe you can answer some of my questions as to why??

5. Nate 

Okay, when I said that I found myself in odd places, it turns out that Nate actually has a bit of a fanbase. It’s not big or anything, from what I can tell, but big enough for me to question why because I was under the impression that we all agreed that this dude sucks.

Seriously, I would’ve put him higher on this list if I hadn’t discovered this handful of people making fanart for him and claiming him as a comfort character. While I find that an odd choice, you do whatever makes you feel comforted, y’know? Just would like to understand why. 

As for the rest of us, he’s terrible. Every time I go back to 400 days, he’s someone I never look forward to seeing. I’ve even tried not getting in the truck with him while playing Russell’s story, but in true Telltale fashion, you’re forced to drive along with this creep. 

Red flags start going off when Russell’s sharing his story about his previous group, something you can tell left some trauma with him, and Nate is just weirdly fixated on the girl Russell liked. Like yeah okay dude, I get it, it’s the apocalypse and you haven’t had any action for a while but oh my god. 

Then the whole walker thing that almost gets Russell chomped is annoying. Oh, and how could I forget about how it’s implied that he attacked the old couple before and was there to finish them off, which he does no matter what and it’s not great. 

Hell, he even uses the line Russell gave him but it’s worse because crazy eyes. And if you don’t say anything, Nate murders them right there without a thought and then continues to be a real creep. Fuck this guy. 

As the wise Eddie once said, “I don’t what that guy in my life, man!” 

4. The Stranger

Hey, have I ever mentioned how much this dude sucks? 

I don’t even have to tell you why he’s on this list. We all know the obvious reasons-- manipulated and kidnapped Clementine, which caused Lee to get bit by a walker and fucking die. No one here is white-knighting for this dipshit. 

Sure, it sucks what the Stranger went through. He lost his family and that would be enough to drive anyone up the wall. I mean, just look at Kenny. But this dude, okay. Look. Listen. I can only feel so bad for you when you lost your son on a hunting trip that your wife told you not to go on, then when you went looking for him, you literally left the car unlocked and running for anyone to come across. Then you come back and gasp. So your wife leaves you for being a moron... then when you find her dead, you cut off her head and keep it like a damn bowling ball because...??

At least that’s what I get from it. The writers probably should’ve done a better job with explaining what the hell happened but y’know. 

That’s not the only reason no one likes this guy. Oh no, you also add to the pile that the Stranger himself is dull. As a character, the dude is just.... boring. And I get that’s probably what they were going for with the whole “I’m just a guy, but you ruined my life and made me this way.” 

However, when you set him up the way you did with the talks over the walkie and the stalking, I was expecting a bit more personality outta this loaf of soggy bread. But no... boring yet crazy. Interesting combo and I’m afraid it doesn’t work. 

3. Larry

Larry?? On a list of most hated characters?? Nooo...

Yeah, surprise. Larry also sucks. Stop the presses. 

Larry is a pain in the ass to deal with for two episodes, constantly belittling the people around him and treating his daughter like shit. Oh, and don’t forget how he behaves towards Lee even if you try to be as nice as possible. Nope, he doesn’t care, he still thinks Lee is garbage and will continue threatening to reveal Lee’s secret to the group. Who cares if that could fuck up the dynamic and endanger the group? Larry sure doesn’t. 

Until the very end, this dude is just a splinter in the foot. By the time you get to the meat locker and he has a heart attack, you’re not gonna save him because you think he’ll be better if he survives. No, you’re attempting to save him for Lilly and Clementine’s sake, and if you don’t even care about that, you siding with Mr. Family Man to smash his head in. 

Not only is he a soiled diaper, he also don’t have much personality outside of asshole. He has maybe two moments where he’s shown to be just a bit chill? I mean, Lilly tells us that he has a lot of pain and that’s why he’s like this.... but that doesn’t excuse his behavior. 

Oh, and can’t forget that apparently he was obsessed with Lilly leaving the lights on so he let the power get cut, so Lilly couldn’t eat ice cream and had to let her hair air dry like a heathen. Unforgivable. 

So yeah, fuck Larry. 

2. Troy

Ugh, Troy. Fuck this guy. 

No really, out of all TWDG characters, this dude and my #1 pick are my most hated. Can’t stand Troy and the only reason I didn’t do a tie for #1 is because for a split second, Troy does show a tiny bit of humanity when Carver is beating down Carver, but blink and you’ll miss it.

Which had me a little concerned to find a handful of posts about having crushes on Troy and drawing fanart but.... again, I guess you do you? And if you can, please explain why because I honestly don’t understand. 

Just looking at the screenshot of him annoys him. He’s got one of those punchable faces, y’know? 

Anyway, when playing as Clementine, I’m always worried that he’s gonna pop up outta no where and grab her by the neck like he does later in ep3, even though I’ve played s2 a bunch to know that he’s not going to. 

But hell, he doesn’t need any excuse to smack anyone around, and there are a handful of times he can really hurt Clem depending on her choices. 

Not great, dude. 

Can’t say I’m too sorry that Jane shot your dick off. 

1. Badger

Yeah, you guys remember Badger. Y’know.... the man who murdered Mariana then laughed about it, claiming that he enjoyed watching her head explode and would do it again and again if he could? 

That’s what puts him at #1. He may not have the most screen time like Larry or Troy, but when he is around, he’s fucking awful.

He gets joy from killing Mariana, like it’s some sort of sick thrill for him to go around murdering children and other innocent people. 

Remember Francine? Caught her and used her as bait to try and get Javi to come down, and even went as far as to have some fingers cut off. Like, he gets off on destroying people, entire communities.

Shit, he seems to even get off to his own beat down. 

He’s fucking gross and outta everyone on this list, I haven’t found a single person being like “Yeah, he’s garbage but I like him kinda?” like no, you’re such garbage that even the Different™ crowd don’t want you. 

Fuck Badger. 

By the way, if you’ve never had Conrad kill him in your game, I suggest looking it up. It’s pretty good. Gives Conrad a little bit of closure after what happened to Francine, as well as give Javi some closure for Mari’s murder. 

Not a single soul wept for you, Badger. 

---

Dishonorable Mentions

-Joan. She’s boring, forgettable, and no one is out here gushing over her because most of the time, we can’t even remember her name. -Danny from Vince’s story in 400 Days. Y’know, the dude going to prison because he was convicted of SA. I’ll never understand why people go with him over Justin. Justin sucks, too, but not the same level Danny does.  -Lilly in S4. Ugh. That’s a whole other topic for another day. -Arvo, though I guess he has a bit of a following, too

---

Well there ya go. Do you agree or disagree with any of my choices for this list? Or have anything to add? I’m always down to chat.

Have any suggestions for future T5F’s? Feel free to send ‘em in! :D

---

Next week’s T5F Top 5 BROTPs

[blarrghe]

Hi! I'm going to go for a dramatic one for the cliché prompts: "You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up" for Fenders (or whoever you prefer) if that works for you <3

I’m on a bit of a Dorianders kick and can’t seem to stop, so thank you very much for the prompt but I went a bit off book with it... hope that’s alright w you.

I altered this a little to “Dorian’s father is asleep on his deathbed and he confesses all his pent up feelings only for Anders to walk in”

So that’s um, how modern au Resident!Anders and Politician!Dorian met. It got a bit long and is very very angsty.

Summary: Anders is a resident working rough hours at a hospital (in Tevinter?? look this is just going to be a series of ficlets I have not worked out the details yet), struggling with his medical debts and work-related sleep deprivation. Dorian is an idealistic politician working his way out of his recently deceased father's shadow. They meet when Anders is attending to his father on his death bed, and things go from there, I guess.

--

Anders took a deep breath. With it, the something hissing over his heart settled down to a whisper. The hospital always beset him with inner whispers; not a good feeling, but one that compelled him on, nevertheless. Pediatrics hit the hardest, the injustice of it all, but being there also kept his mind steady. Doing something. Critical Care was different. There wasn't usually a lot he could do, in the Critical Care wing. And his rounds today had him facing that patient, the one for whom there was nothing to be done, and who set his obsessively helpful spirit into split ends, because he was also an absolute asshole. When Anders was in a room with him, under steely eyes and the cracking whip of his tongue, the disease in him felt deserved, and some part of Anders burned like blue fire, so hot it took biting his cheek bloody to restrain his bedside manner from bad attitudes. The disease is never deserved, he reminded himself and the licks of flame that still remembered the patient's rude barkings from last time. Even in rich men who in life had been given much more than they ever did deserve, a death like this one was still a hard death, and people who are dying are allowed to die angry. So he took another deep breath, because dealing with some patients just needed that much more breathing, but he could still do his job. And that was the job; to be there, at the end, for anyone.

He was getting worse, sleeping more. It wouldn't be long now, and Anders tried not to be relieved. He checked his charts, his monitors, the IVs still barely holding him up. Increased the morphine, for his pain, and finished without saying a word. For a moment, he almost missed it; at least when the man was swearing at him and ranting in indecipherably bigoted tirades, he was lively. He sighed, staying the extra moment to offer the man's sallow cheeks a sympathetic glance. Death was a natural part of life, and he was old, and an asshole, and maybe he didn't deserve it but... soon the bed would be free again, and that would be alright.

When he turned to leave, there was a dark figure sitting on the bench in the hall outside. He was reading a magazine but not flipping the pages, one leg crossed over the other in the stiff posture of someone who is uncomfortably waiting for uncomfortable news. One of the family. Anders took another deep breath. He hadn't had dealings with the wife, but he'd overheard them well enough. An unpleasant woman for an unpleasant man, trying to buy off death and then trying to kick the whole hospital down with her complaining when she couldn't. If the man waiting outside now took after either of them, his shift was about to get a whole lot worse.

He stepped out into the hall, and the man looked up from his magazine. His features were striking, sculpted. Skin the deep, radiant bronze that Anders was sure his father's would have been, back in his youth before misery and disease stole its colour. And he was, unmistakably now, his asshole patient's son; same steely grey eyes, right down to the faint creases beside them, and just as unfeeling.

"Are you his doctor?"

Usually, that question, asked at this point in the process of losing someone, was croaked out. But the son didn't croak, he asked his question with a continued lack of feeling, and a bit of impatience.

"Not his attending, only a resident. I can page the doctor, if you'd like,"

"No, that's fine. Can you just tell me how long?" The man stood up, tall. Much taller than the way people usually stood in hospital corridors; poised and proud in his posture — not actually taller than Anders, but he felt it. Still a little stiff maybe, but anything uncomfortable was covered up by how well he fit into his suit; smooth and black and clinging to his body like it was made to hold him. Anders blinked, "how long he has," the son clarified unnecessarily, still coolly impatient, "I have places to be, you see."

His eyes wandered past Anders, hesitating over the window to the room where his father lay dying, then snapping back again. Not entirely unfeeling after all, but the sadness in them was troubled by something else, still indecipherable. Anders wondered what kind of relationship a son could have with a father — a father like that — for so many secrets to be buried in that glance.

Anders swallowed. No he didn't, he decided, but the thing that whispered care into his heart was wondering, catching onto the well-hidden glimpse of feeling in the man, craving already to comfort the rest.

"A few days, maybe." He answered, gentle with the news. The son nodded once. "You should say your goodbyes."

The son was looking past him again, back through the window at the sleeping form of his father, more unhappy secrets set into his jaw. Anders watched the jaw tense, and stay there.

"In a few days, maybe." Replied the man, though he barely moved his tense jaw to say it. "He's awake."

Anders turned to follow the man's eyes, landing his own gaze on a twitching hand and barely moving bedsheets. He didnt look back again before darting into the room to offer his patient care.

"Dorian?" Croaked the patient, steely grey eyes opening to scan his face, and then closing in apparent disappointment.

"Your son? He's right outside, I'll —" but he wasn't. The tall, statuesque man was gone, the magazine left lying open on the bench outside in an empty white hallway. "I'm sure he'll be back soon." Anders amended, attempting to offer a bright spot of hope. His patient grunted.

Anders took a step away from the bedside, but as he did a thin, wrinkled hand shot out, and grabbed him by the wrist. The cold, unfeeling eyes opened, except now they were sad. "A word of advice, if you don’t want to be disappointed in life, don't have children." Even breathy and hoarse, he managed to give his voice bite. Then his asshole patient's gaze fell on the little gold earring hanging from Anders’ ear, and he coughed. Anders took a deep breath in preparation for another insult, and to help him recover from the bit of unfriendly advice. "You're lucky they don't let you people have them."

Anders tried not to sigh. The dying are allowed to die angry. "I'm sure he'll be back." He said again.

----

Dorian. The name stuck to him almost as well as his tight black trousers, and Anders couldn't help but turn it over a few times in his mouth after he left the room. He made the rest of his rounds, and checked back in on father-of-the-year Pavus a few more times, lying to himself about what he was hoping to find. Dorian. He never did come back though, not during visiting hours of that day, nor the day after. On the third day things weren't looking well, and Bride of Asshole Pavus had alerted everyone on staff to the fact that it was their fault, even the poor janitors. The bed would probably be free again by the end of his shift.

He made his rounds, thinking as little about that particular patient and his particularly unpleasant wife as he could, trying to tell his inner whisperings that it wasn't worth being sad over, even if the son never said goodbye. Maybe he didn't deserve one, how could Anders judge? (Everyone deserves one). Under his breath, Anders told himself to shush. (If not for the father's sake, then for his own). Again, shush. Then, through the too-thin walls and slightly ajar door as he made his way down the glaringly white hallway, Anders heard muttering. Sad, broken, angry muttering. He stopped.

" —I don't want it." the phrase was repeated a few times, some utterings angry, others sad, all of them broken. "I don't want your life. I don't want to be you. I don't —" Dorian. Dorian choking on a sob. Anders took a step back, careful about the squeak of his shoes. "I don't even know why I —" he tried not to listen in (no you didn't), but the door was ajar. "Everything. I could become everything you ever asked of me and it would still never be enough, so I don't know why I— I —" there was another heartwrenching choke to a stop, then a gutteral sound of frustration that Anders could feel in his own gut. "Just once. You couldn't say it just once?" It sounded like the kind of question he wouldn't be getting an answer to even if the man were conscious. "I'm sorry." Anders felt that in his gut too, and the thing he was trying to keep quiet inside him wondered if the words were from Dorian to his father, or the ones Dorian was begging his unconscious body for, or both.

In hospital rooms, the sound of beeping monitors disappeared into the fray. Wheels on stretchers trundling down the halls, squeaking shoes on linoleum, ventilators whirring and monitors beeping. They only sounded like anything when they stopped, and let out that one long note to signify the end. Dorian choked out his apology several more times, once sad, once angry, always desperate, and then the monitor stopped beeping, drowning out his gasps for air with its ending, and Anders had to do his job. He walked in.

Dorian shot up. Hands swiping at his red eyes and posture somehow rising without even a hint of hunch, and Anders pretended poorly not to see any of it. The attending came, procedures were followed, and Dorian disappeared into the waiting room like he was supposed to, without a look back.

The wife was gone by the time Anders poked his head into the waiting room. It wasn't his job to tell the family, and the news had long been shared, but something told him to peek in anyway. He took another deep breath when he saw him — this family really seemed bent on messing with his breathing — sitting, one long leg crossed over the other, staring down a terrible cup of coffee, not drinking it. He sat straight, his skin shone, his suit fit him like a glove and not a hair on his head was out of place, but he looked tired. Dorian. Anders approached cautiously. It would be a while before the family could take the body, and he should go home, rest. He told him as much, to a response of slow nods. Then Dorian looked up from his coffee, eyes emotionless except for the fact that they were lined in watery red.

"I'm just waiting for my mother to finish hounding her lawyers," he said, and despite himself Anders looked about nervously, "she's not here, don't worry. She left for home an hour ago. If I wait another, she'll have tired herself out and passed out under a bottle of wine." He sighed heavily, "could use one myself, but to be honest with you I don't quite feel like going home." His eyes flicked up into Anders' with a dim light of mischief, and Anders wondered what his looks could do for him on a good day. Things Anders could never hope to achieve, no doubt.

Anders offered him the carefully crafted soft smile he reserved for these kinds of things, and said “sorry for your loss” with just a touch more feeling than most patients’ families received, since the man looked like he needed it. 

“Can’t say the same to you I suppose,” Dorian replied, shaking his head, “though I am sorry.”

Anders opened his mouth, struggled to find anything to do with it, and then closed it again. 

“For my mother,” Dorian explained as he put the coffee cup he was still holding down on the low table in front of the chair he was decorating, apparently giving up any semblance of drinking it, “I’m sure his care was better than he deserved, but she doesn’t do well in situations she can’t control. It won’t come to anything.” 

Anders nodded slowly. Better than he deserved? A phrase Anders might have thought himself, over the past few weeks of dealing with the irate patient as he approached death’s door, but now that he’d gone through it, something about the sentiment irked him.

“Everyone deserves compassionate care,” he corrected with another careful smile, “the best chance we can give, and comfort when that’s spent. No less.” 

The response did something odd to Dorian’s face; first a sigh, then it transmuted itself into a strangled sort of laugh, while he shook his head and regarded Anders with still-dull eyes. “Well, it can’t have been easy,” he muttered, eyes landing on Anders’ soft smile, which he hoped was still there. “Thank you.” 

Anders left him then, offering one more nod and smile before turning away to finish the rest of his shift. Two hours later, changed out of his scrubs and into his tattered old jacket over his tattered old t-shirt and jeans, he walked by the waiting room again, on his way out. Dorian was still there, still staring down that same cup of undrunk coffee. 

“Mr. Pavus, ser?” 

Dorian started at the sound, and looked up from the coffee with an almost angry light in his icy eyes. “Please, Maker, call me anything but that.” 

Anders swallowed. “It’s — it’s Dorian, isn’t it?” Dorian nodded, “Dorian,” saying his name to his face felt wrong, somehow, “it’s getting rather late, is there someone I should call for you?” 

Dorian shook his head. “No,” he sighed. “Are there any bars nearby? A really terrible one, preferably.” 

Anders frowned, but there was a pretty terrible bar just across the street, stuck into a hole in the wall of an alley, with grimy old barstools and floors littered in peanut shells, so he told him so. Dorian stood, always so tall. 

“Thank you, Doctor…” 

“Anders,” he attempted a smile, but there was a good deal too much worry in it, he was sure, “just Anders; I’m off duty.” 

Dorian turned from him, then suddenly turned back. “Would you care for a drink, Anders?” 

Anders blinked. “I uh —” 

“You’ve seen the last of what was undoubtedly your worst patient today, haven’t you? Don’t tell me you didn’t plan to celebrate.” 

His brows creased unhappily, all on their own, and something inside him whispered back the memory of that broken bedside apology. “I wouldn’t —” 

“You should. I aim to. On me?” There was that light of mischief again, a little brighter, coupled with what could almost be a smirk. Maker, was he flirting? 

“I don’t drink.” 

Dorian frowned, and Anders almost wished he did. “A bowl of peanuts on me, then.” Dorian amended his offer with a shrug. And for some unknown reason, Anders nodded. 

“Alright.” 

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Pulled - Sherlock One-Shot

Requested by anon: May I please have a one-shot for Sherlock where he proposes? Really fluffy and sweet Word Count: 1,211 Pairing: Sherlock x reader Warnings: Bit OOC Sherlock, just for the fun of it. A/N: My first fic in a while. I did it this way because I’m OBSESSED over that song ever since I started dating my boyfriend (because I’m the live representation of Wednesday Addams, thank you very much) and I just had to let it out somehow. Tags are under the cut.

Enjoy!

“Aw, Sherlock’s a softie,” Moriarty mocked. He was tied to a wall, for there was no ceiling in that part of the building.

“I’m not,” Sherlock insisted. They had been going on about that for a couple hours, as they waited for Scotland Yard to arrive.

“No, I’m not.”

“Soft kitty, warm kitty…” Moriarty started singing.

“I’m not.”

“Then why are you so eager to leave?” Moriarty pouted, “To leave me for her… To go on a date.”

“It’s not a date,” Sherlock replied.

“I think it is.” His nemesis insisted, “It is a special date because you even rehearsed it.”

“No, I didn’t,” he lied.

“I saw the piece of paper that fell off your coat when we were chasing after each other.”

“We weren’t chasing each other, I was catching you.”

“Whatever you say, big guy.” 

Suddenly, a couple steps were heard. “Finally!” Sherlock smirked and got up from his seat on the wet floor. 

It wasn’t Scotland Yard, it was (Y/N), Sherlock’s girlfriend.

“Sherlock, what am I doing here?” She inquired. The place was empty, and it smelled like rotten mice and filthy water. She didn’t know exactly where they were. “I thought we’d meet at the bridge to see the fireworks.”

“This is also a great view of the fireworks, my dear,” Moriarty spoke.

“What is she doing here?” Sherlock asked Moriarty, who gave him a childish smile.

“I might have taken your phone���”

“What am I doing here?!” (Y/N) asked again.

“He’s got something to say, right Sher?”

“I’ve got something to say,” he answered, not looking at her. “But I will say it once I’ve finished with him.”

“Oh, no, please” Moriarty cried, “I love a good story, please proceed. I won’t move, pinkie promise.”

“I won’t,” Sherlock stated.

“You know about the fireworks,” Moriarty said, changing his childish tone to a darker one, “Do it or else…”

“I’m not scared of you,” Sherlock frowned.

“Entertain me, Sherlock,” Moriarty continued, “or you’ll be scared for her.”

“Are you two high? You look high,” she took a step forward and Sherlock stopped her.

“Don’t, don’t try to get inside my mind like that.”

“I’ve set my conditions, I want the show,” Moriarty finished.

She took a step back and remained quiet for a couple minutes as Sherlock wandered in circles around her, rubbing his hands and licking his lips. He was attempting to mutter something but didn’t seem to find the proper words.

“I…” He cleared his throat, “I will start from the beginning.”

“You don’t have to do as he says, he’s the one tied up.”

Sherlock stared at her angrily. She apologised in a whisper and shut her mouth once more.

“Come on! This is getting boring!” The villain yelled. “Don’t forget your lines.”

“I-I don’t have a ‘sunny’ disposition,” he started in a rather sarcastic manner, “I’m n-not known for being too amused. My demeanour is locked in one position.”

“See his face? He’s enthused.” Moriarty interrupted and Sherlock fumed at him. “Sorry, please continue.”

“Suddenly, however, I’ve been puzzled.” He took a deep breath and stared back at Moriarty, who encouraged him to continue, “Bunny rabbits make me want to cry. All my inhibitions have been muzzled…”

“And why is that, Sher?” Moriarty asked.

“I’m… Being ‘pulled’ in a new direction.”

“And how does that feel, big boy?”

“I think I like it…” He whispered, “I think I like it.”

“Sher…” She started.

“Don’t interrupt!” Moriarty commanded, and (Y/N) got quiet again.

“Through my painful pursuit, somehow birdies took root. All the things I detested impossibly cute…”

“GOD!” Moriarty moaned.

“Mother always said ‘be kind to strangers, Sherly’ but…”

“Didn’t she know what they destroy?” Moriarty asked from the back.

“I can feel the clear and present danger, for my public image, when she learns that you have got me pulled in a new direction… And that I like it.” Sherlock continued, pulling a button that made Moriarty’s ties tighter.

“That was good! Do it again!” Moriarty groaned.

“This feeling, I know, is impossible. So I’ll confide that I’ve tried but I can’t let it go. It’s disgustingly true…”

“Pulled, pulled, pulled!” Moriarty squealed and Sherlock pressed the button again.

“I’m not understanding, in which direction, Sherlock?” (Y/N) asked.

“You know… Puppy dogs with droopy faces, unicorns with dancing mice, sunrise in wide-open spaces, Disney World…” Sherlock enlisted.

“I go there twice, every year” Moriarty commented.

“Butterflies and picnic lunches, bunches of chrysanthemums, lollipops and pillow fights, Christmas eve…”

“SUGARPLUMS!” Moriarty roared.

“String quartets and Chia pets, and afternoon banana splits, angels watching as I sleep…”

“And Liberace’s greatest hits!” Moriarty interrupted.

Sherlock looked back at him. “Would you mind?”

“Sorry, I got excited. Continue,” Moriarty said. Sherlock exhaled the last of his breath and looked at (Y/N) straight into her eyes.

“If you keep insisting, I’ll stop resisting,” he stuttered, “I know I should stay in the dark, not obey every spark… But, you’ve got a bite far better than your bark… And you bet I’ll bite too and… Do what’s really ‘taboo’ for me…”

“Sherlock,” she mumbled, as he kneeled down and took a box out of his coat.

“I wanted to do this at the Bridge, right before the fireworks started but this cock changed the fireworks for dangerous explosives,” Sherlock said.

“You’re welcome!” 

“(Y/N), would you make me the honour to marry me?” Sherlock whispered as his eyes sparkled with a brand new glimpse of hope.

“YES!”

“It’s showtime.” Suddenly, the sky exploded with tons of fireworks.

“What the…?” Sherlock, who was hugging his bride-to-be, exclaimed.

“I had to put them somewhere!” Moriarty explained, “Guess where the button that activates them is!”

“NO!” Sherlock yelled, but deep inside he was laughing. He looked down to (Y/N), who hadn’t taken her eyes away from him, and kissed her softly yet passionately as the fireworks continued to explode on top of them.

As if that wasn’t enough, a couple of claps could be heard out of a sudden. Sherlock and (Y/N) stopped their kiss to look at the opposite end of the room, where Lestrade and John Watson clapped as the rest of Scotland Yard pointed their guns at Moriarty.

“Nice time to arrive!” Sherlock growled.

“We’ve been here for a while now,” Lestrade explained, satisfied with himself.

“Nice proposal, Sherlock,” Watson added, “I always knew you had a soft spot.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and lifted his coat’s collar, as a failed attempt to look mysterious. The officers walked past him, mumbling congratulations, and took Moriarty down to handcuff him and send him to trial.

“Before I go,” Moriarty said, “don’t ever say I’m a bad friend, Sherry. I’m letting Scotland Yard take me just because I was here to support you,” he pouted, “don’t forget that.”

They took him away.

“What a lunatic,” Sherlock whispered and (Y/N) giggled. 

“Now that was a proposal,” John said as he approached the couple.

“Sod off, John.” Sherlock fumed, but they knew he was joyful.

“Very original,” John whispered to (Y/N), and the three of them walked back home as the fireworks continued to burst.

-

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[sergeant-donny-donowitz]

The Plan (Donny Donowitz x Reader)

Requested by @redroseedits

@owba-chan @war-obsessed @inglourious-imagines @tealaquinn @struggling-bee @frozenhuntress67 @kwyloz @sodapop182 @marlenemarauders @what-the--curtains @taikawho

Let me know if you wanna be added to the IB or OUATIH taglists! :)

_____ The basterds were sitting around in an abandoned hostel. The next morning, they'd be moving out to a village called Nadine, about twenty kilometers outside of Paris, and meet with a British officer named Lt. Hicox, and an unknown double agent. It seemed as though the war was coming to an end, consequently, so was their time together. The basterds had come to see each other as brothers, much like most military outfits in the war. But to you, they were all you had. "So, what're y'all gon' do after all this?" Aldo smirked a little as he poured himself some whiskey. It was a question they asked each other often. No one ever got tired of answering it. No one ever got tired of hearing about it. You just always answered "I don't know," and shrugged with a smile. All your life, you never really knew where you belonged. Wicki was going to Florida, and of course the basterds made jokes about him 'retiring' there. Hugo wasn't sure where to go, but Germany was no longer an option. "I have a sister in Connecticut," He smiled softly, his fist lingered over a his right chest pocket. There was a small, tattered photograph there of his sister, her husband, and their family. A two year old girl named Nadia, and a baby boy named Hugo. The picture was three years old now. Nothing, not even the worst the Gestapo had to offer could pry that picture away from Hugo. Now, he was so close to finally seeing them with his own eyes. Hirschberg chuckled, "Come visit me and Sarah down in Jersey." Sarah was his high school sweetheart. She'd been holding on to a ring of his since he deployed, and he couldn't wait to get back home and finally marry her. Utivich smirked, "Or Manhattan." Omar rolled his eyes, "Or Brooklyn. We'll take ya to a Dodgers game." Donny turned, "Don't even start with that, Omar. If anyone's takin' anybody to a baseball game, it's me." as the rest of the basterds grumbled. The east coast boys always tended to get riled up over who had the best hometown, and baseball team. Aldo laughed, "Alright, alright, what about you, Donny?" Donny smiled as he looked up at the ceiling, as if he could already imagine it all. "Probably go back to work in my old man's barber shop. Move out to a place closer to the docks, though. No place like home, huh?" He subtly glanced at you when he mentioned home with a soft sigh, wondering how he could ever call a place home without you. He shook his head, not wanting to dwell on what he couldn't change. Not now. Not anymore. They were so close to ending the war, what good would it do to complicate everything now? He looked to Aldo, and asked, "How 'bout you, lieutenant?" Aldo smiled warmly as he looked down at his drink and shrugged, "Well, boy...I got my place back up in Tennessee." Aldo had lived a relatively quiet life up in the Smoky Mountains, with his wife. When he enlisted, he had twin sons who were six years old, and a baby on the way, whose name he never got to know. The next week, the twins were turning ten years old, and Aldo intended to be there. He'd finally get to know his third kid's name. Hugo asked, "Will you work in the town?" Aldo smirked a little as he reluctantly commented, "Bootleggin' was generous to me." The basterds were all silent for a moment, then Hirschberg's eyes shot wide, "HOLY SHIT WERE YOU IN THE MOB?!" Utivich rolled his eyes, "There is no mob in Tenne-fuckin'-see." The smirk on Aldo's face made Utivich take a second thought, "Is there?" Aldo only chuckled, and turned, "What about you, Y/n? What's the plan, kid?" You were the youngest of the basterds. You'd barely left high school when you volunteered for the war. Aldo noted, "I imagine you'll  be goin' back to school like Utivich." You were quiet for a moment, and you glanced at Donny. Utivich noticed. He knew why. You'd told him after all. He'd been rooting for you, all along. He was not giving up on you and Donny. "You got somethin' to say, Y/n?" Utivich had always been a good kid... Sometimes a bit too snarky for his own good, but still... He had plans on going to college for engineering, but still stay in New York. So you now knew where to find him to get him back for that. You really hadn't thought about what you'd do after the war. You honestly never thought this day would come...And now that it was basically a fact that the war would end by the end of the week, you shook your head as you blurted out a vague idea you'd had for the past few years, "Stay in the army, I think," you looked down, and took a long draw from your cigarette. "What?" Donny looked at you, clearly concerned. They'd all gone so far to make it back home, he couldn't believe you wanted to stay. None of the basterds believed that, but they knew why you'd said that. You didn't have anywhere else to go. They didn't pry, they knew better by now.

So the night went on, endless drinks were poured, and the smell of cigarettes lingered eternally in the air that was filled with passing memories and fleeting laughs. At the end of it all, as you all went to sleep, you and Donny glanced at each other. He was sure you had something to say. Your lips parted for  a moment, and his eyes lit up, ready to hear the words he'd wanted to hear for years. But your breath caught your words, and tangled them. You turned away without a single word. Donny sighed, and went his way. *** Things didn't go as planned. Contacts in the resistance had to take Hicox, Wicki, and Hugo. They'd survived the shoot out in the tavern, but they definitely could not continue with Operation Kino. Everyone else had to step up, the plans had to be rearranged. So there you were, across the street from a small French cinema called Le Gamaar, anticipating the end of war. You, Hirschberg, and Utivich stood on the sidewalk in the distance, about to split up for your assigned posts during the mission. You were saying your goodbyes. You watched Donny walk away, and you called out, "Donny!" He turned around, "Yeah kid?" "I love you." He held his breath for a moment. Though his heart ached for him to say it back, at the top of his lungs, he didn't. He smiled softly at you, with warm, kind eyes. He knew what Operation Kino meant for him, Omar, and Aldo. It was almost certain they wouldn't make it out. If he said 'I love you,' now, it would be torture for you, knowing he meant it. For your sake, he turned and walked away, joining Aldo, Omar, and Bridget, on their way to the premiere. You turned away, knowing the truth, but hurting, having never heard him say what he wanted.

"Well you did it." Utivich wasn't too sure what to say. No one in the world would be. Hirschberg sighed, loading his gun, and heading down the street, "See you on the other side, kiddos." You and Smitty salute him, half-jokingly, rolling your eyes. Hirschberg was only a year or two older than you and Utivich. You split up. Around an hour later, you were in your position, on a rooftop across the street from the theater. You had one job: Make sure not a single nazi made it out You saw one. And he was smart. He was using Aldo as a human shield, you had no clear shot. "Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck." You looked through your scope, hoping for a single clear shot, but it never came. Aldo glanced around subtly. He knew you were either waiting for a clear shot...or you'd been discovered. Hans Landa shoved Aldo into a waiting jeep, filled with nazis, but it didn't move. You were in the middle of figuring out what you could and could not get away with at the moment, when you saw another nazi dragging Utivich into the same jeep. "Shit." You were laying low. The nazis were hunting the rest of the basterds now. You knew they'd go after Wicki, Hugo, and Hicox too. You snuck off the roof, not wanting any more unwanted attention, trying to appear as though you were a normal French citizen, by getting as far from the cinema as possible. They were going after you, and Hirschberg too. It was now a game of cat and mouse. You took one last look at the cinema... They'd never be able to take out Omar and Donny without setting off the explosives. That much was true. But so much more could be compromised if they caught the rest of the basterds. You slunk around alleys, through the shadows, finally reaching a street filled with people. By then, you knew there was a nazi tailing you, and you got lost in the crowd. "Halt!" You heard the nazi call out, and by the commotion and murmuring behind you, you knew people were stopping on their order... You kept pushing forward, deeper into the crowd, as more nazis gathered, calling out, "HALT." and "ARRÊTEZ!" You ran. You ran, and heard gunshots behind you. You hid in another alley, climbed back up onto another roof, and took all the nazis down. You then ran on the roofs of Paris, hidden by the shroud of the night, your eyes scanning the streets in an attempt to find Hirschberg, or at least a sign of him. "Shit. Shit. Shit." You climbed down, reaching the hideout where the French resistance had been harboring the wounded basterds. You leaned by a window, and whispered a password. The window opened a tiny crack, and you spoke under your shuttering, exhausted breath, "Ils sont sur nous. Bouge toi." 'They're onto us. Move.' Your response was a single word. There was nothing that could ever reassure you at that moment. But...it would have to do. "Compris."  'Understood.'

You then turned back around, moving faster than you ever had before, looking for Hirschberg. You couldn't find him. And you hoped that the nazis couldn't either. You found your way back to Le Gamaar. Even from a distance, you could see pillars of smoke rising above the skyline. Your heart slowed, and you stopped running. You took slow steps toward the cinema, which slowly came into view. The flames were roaring, and so was your mind. You sighed, as the ash of the war surrounded you. You were almost mersmerized as you watched the fire rise. You smiled, both proud and heart broken, as you thought, "They did it..." All you heard was the crackling from the fire, and distant crickets. Then... you heard foosteps behind you. You turned to see Donny marching up to you, Omar and Hirscberg in the distance. Omar was limping, but he seemed to be having the time of his life. Hirschberg had a wide grin, holding Omar up with one arm, and one final nazi scalp in his other hand. Your eyes set on Donny's as he wrapped his arms around you, and softly declared for only you to hear, "I love you too." You rested your head against his chest, his racing heart slowly lulling. He murmured, "You can't stay here, Y/n..." You glanced up at him, watching ash and smoke float around him  like a dance of stars and snow. He didn't mean you couldn't stay there in front of that theater. He didn't mean you couldn't stay in that moment of inglourious victory forever. "We meeting Aldo and Smitty at the lines or not?!" Omar called out from a distance, and you smiled in relief. You watched the smoke rise, and the ember in Donny's eyes as you both turned back to join the rest of the basterds. He meant you couldn't stay in the military forever Especially not after all this. Not after what you'd  both admitted. You watched the embers through his smiling eyes, and for once, you felt at peace. You finally found where you were meant to be.

[moonbelt]

»the moon, the sun

↳ ex-best-friends to lovers au | college athletes au

pairing » jeon jungkook | reader

genre » big angst + fluff + sexual themes

word count » 11.770

» there’s not a single thing you like about jungkook. no. not his jokes or his thinly veiled overwatch obsession or his supreme swimmers body. absolutely nothing. there is, however, a multitude of things you hate. wait, sorry that was rude, vehemently despise is better. 

 » mutual pining that could've been resolved if either of them exercised some basic communication skills lol, mild coarse language, lots of angst, cocky jjk but also crack jjk??, gamer memes, poufy haired jjk, also supposed hate-love relationship. 

YOU ARRIVE AT THE SWIM CENTER WITH A THROB in your knee and a resounding ache in your head. It felt like your brain was about to explode into a thousand gory pieces as you pushed open the wide frost-tinted glass double doors that led to the locker rooms.

Now that would have been a great start to a low-budget horror flick. You could just picture it, a lonesome girl? No… Woman? At twenty, you weren’t sure if you still qualified as a girl but the term woman felt too formal, too stifling, too mature to be attributed to you. But whatever, that was semantics you could spare for another day.

So, there you’d be; creeping into a university swim center at the ass-crack of dawn and then bam! Your brain impedes on itself. Maybe it’s because of some mutant phenomenal viral disease, maybe it’s repercussions from tempering with a portal to the paranormal realm that only exists in semi-open pool arenas. Whatever it was, it would have to be epic and a far cry from the truth. Which was, you were used to indescribable, continuous pain. It came with the territory of being an athlete. If you didn’t wake up in the morning with some part of your body feeling uncomfortably off then that just meant you didn’t try as hard the day before. Or at the very least, that’s what you told yourself to keep going.

Yawning, you punched in your locker code and began the mental and physical process of getting ready for the next three hours of practice before break. You usually where the first one in the building and the last one to leave if you didn’t have classes or work.

Swimming made you feel good, made you feel like there was something special about yourself. It didn’t help that the more you practiced, the more you were able to outpace everyone else. Practice birthed results and your stubbornness, wait no, competitiveness was off the charts. So, of course, you wanted to dominate every single athlete in your division.

Still though, waking up at four in the morning had to be the singular dumbest thought you’d ever conceived.

Once you were suited up, you padded back into the arena that held the huge industrial sized swim pool. The overpowering smell of chlorine and humid air made you feel more at home than the dormitory you’d just left less than thirty minutes ago. You honestly might’ve started crying right then and there at the sight of the crystal clear water and the humongous life-sized painting of an unknown swimmer in the midst of a beautiful breaststroke at the center of it all.

Today was after all the first day of the semester. Your collegiate swimming career was finally back on. Your lips twinged at the sight of the polished, tiled floor and how it felt cool under the soles of your feet.

You’d gone back home for winter break and although you’d kept up with the training regime your coach had persistently emailed out, there was just something fundamentally different about being back on your own turf. In fact, you were fairly sure a few tears slipped past your barriers and hooked at the corners of your eyes at the thought. Only to be blasted into near oblivion by the sound of a phone camera going snap snap.

You whipped your head to the direction of the camera like a person possessed. “What the fuck?”

“Oh, My Zelda. This is glorious.” The goddamn stalker, wait he wasn’t a stalker if he was a member of the swim team. Right, the goddamn fiend had the guts and audacity to say with an open-mouthed grin marring his face. “You’re actually crying. There are literally tears in your eyes. I can see ‘em.”

“Screw off, Jeon.”

Him. The only other person dumb enough to be at the swimming center at five am. A full hour before the scheduled practice time. God, how long had he been watching you? And to think he even had time to whip out his phone and document this moment. You were never gonna live it down, that was for sure. You? Crying? Over – you took a grand look around your surroundings – water?

“It was only three weeks, you know. You wouldn’t die if you didn’t swim for a month or two.” He still found the whole scenario funny, if the laughter in his voice was any indication.

“Coming from someone that I doubt showers even once every three days? Yeah, I’ll pass on that lecture.”

“Ooh, a solid burn from the Ice Queen,” he clutched a hand to his chest like he’d been shot with a bazooka or something. Dramatic. “That one hurts my ego immensely.”

You snorted. It was debatable if anything could seriously damage Jeon Jungkook’s ego. That shit was built with solid uranium. No matter how you tried to smash it. He was his own number one supporter and he’d built himself up in his head that he was the greatest at whatever he laid his hands on. At that moment, however, you wanted to snatch the iPhone out of those deft hands of his and dig a well through his head with it. Couldn’t he go be great somewhere else?

Instead of replying and subsequently dragging out this conversation longer than necessary, you busied yourself with adjusting your swim cap and bringing your goggles to rest on the bridge of your nose.

It didn’t matter that Jungkook was here. It didn’t bother you one bit. It’s not like it was abnormal. You’d known him longer than you’d known anybody so of course you were used to his presence. Although you didn’t particularly like the fact that you’d known him almost your whole life. Or the fact that your body prickled with awareness every time he stepped into the nearest vicinity. You couldn’t control that. What you could control though, was how you felt about it.

And right now, you hated him. Wait, no hate was too strong a word, perhaps vehemently despise was more fitting.

You make your way to lane five, take a deep breath to calm your nerves and then dunk yourself into the ice cold water. Better to get it over with than squirm around the edges with him around. For Zelda’s sake, he has his phone camera on standby!

Yeah okay, you didn’t hate Jeon Jungkook; the son of a family friend that lived on the other side of the cul de sac. Instead, you vehemently despised the boy that was a walking, talking human critic. You bite your lip ferociously in a bid to punish the thought of Jungkook out of your mind. After a second or maybe three, you push into the water.

“Your shoulders look tense from up here... you’re so not gonna perform well if you don’t stretch that baby out.”

That’s the first thing you hear other than the rushing of water leaving your ears as your face breaks out against the surface of the pool. You jerk your goggles off your eyes, look up and scowl at him. Mr. I-Should-Basically-Be-A-Coach-With-All-These-Pointers-I-Give.

“I am not tense.”

“Yeah, no. You don’t have to lie about that. I could legit see your muscles almost cramping up down there.”

“Are you really going to stand up there and pretend we have some kind of mentor-mentee relationship going on? Seriously? It’s five in the morning, Jeon.”

You could clearly see the wheels in his head turning and then zeroing in on the one word you shouldn’t have said. Relationship. Gah, you need a chastity belt for your lips. His eyes basically sparkle with rays of mischief and a dash of mastered superiority. “Well, I am seven months older, so when you think about it that way it’s only natural that I take you under my wing and —”

“I swear to you, I will physically break your knee caps —”

“Wait,” he looks genuinely confused, perfect lips pouting. “What do you mean by physically? Is there any other way to break a knee?”

Ugh! You stare at him and he stares right back, cocking his head to the side like he can do this all day. You want to scream, hell maybe even shapeshift into a fucking banshee and scream the roof off this building.

And then his mouth curves into a roguish smirk. The type he reveals when he manages to squeak by a better time than you or like that one time (okay maybe five?) that he got randomly stopped by some modeling agency recruiter when your parents had forced the two of you to carpool to swim meets back when you were a tad younger and he was the only one with a car. The smirk that just screams ‘I’m getting under your skin, aren’t I? And dude, it feels fan-fucking-tastic.’

“Get a life, Jeon. Or better yet, get in the water. It’s only been three weeks, no way you suck even worse than usual after that. I mean, by fuck, it hasn’t even been a month!” You twist his words back at him and then feel proud about it. So what, you are competitive and you hold grudges. There could be worse things.

His smirk deepened and okay, you won’t lie to yourself. He is attractive. Critically so. It would be hard not to notice that. It’s a continual and conscious effort to even attempt to un-notice it. But still, moments like these when the fluorescent lights beamed on his face at just the right angle and the shadows cut across his features and illuminated his golden skin to the heavens, boosting his overall aura like he was some sort of reincarnated god of beauty. Or worse, a Final Boss that you had to most certainly defeat. It became increasingly hard not to notice how much he affected you and your breathing.

Yeah, it’s in these moments that your better judgement faults and for a split second you are transported to that one November night in the middle of eleventh grade when fuck no! Absolutely not! You refuse to walk that horrendous trip down memory lane and relive one of the most humiliating, and this is coming from a girl that threw up because of nerves in front of judges at a talent show, experiences of your life. This was not the time.

“Your shoulders are still stiff as a board. Tell me, child, have you gotten laid recently?”

You let out the most frustrated sound of agony you could muster. You’re going to murder him. Forget you being the star in some crazy horror film, you were going to be the director. And you were gonna serve up a mean case of Deck Jungkook’s Ass With Supernatural Intervention as the main course. Maybe you’d win an Oscar for it. Heck, maybe you’d get a home run and even win Best Picture.

He chuckles like he’s cracked the greatest joke since Netflix Original Films. You’re too busy orchestrating a slugfest in your head to really pay attention. “I’ll take that as a negative.”

You barely manage to spit out a dignified response. “One of these days I’m going to seriously maim you.”

“Tsk tsk, you and your threatening bodily harm tendencies. I wonder if that’s like a kink thing?” He asks as he taps his chin with his forefinger and squats down to a level that is closer to you. His dark brown hair that looks almost a shade of black sways like a river to his beat. This is much better, it hurt your neck staring up at him like he was some guardian deity.

But the action happens to highlight the ridiculous tightening of his abs. The abs you’ve painstakingly not ogled at because they are sculpted beauties. Hell, you’ve yet to meet a swimmer's body that isn’t the epitome of fitness but Jungkook’s is different. He is carved. Probably why you don’t like looking at it, stare too much and he might notice and of course, you wouldn’t want that happening.

“Jeon?”

“Hmm?” He sounds so innocent. The liar.

“Shut up before I drown you. I don’t care how long you can hold your breath. I will send you down to hell personally.”

He wiggled his eyebrows like the concept of hell was all he’d ever wanted to discuss in life. “Does that mean you’d be coming with? Fascinating. Let’s make a road trip out of it. Maybe you’ll even find some demons down to fuck all that tension out of your body. You know, DDTF. Get your exophilia on, if that’s your thing.”

Exo-what?

Beat. He’s beaten you at your own game. How the heck are you supposed to reply something snarky when all he ever does is blow the thing to epic proportions and have you running in circles. This is why the best strategy was just to simply ignore him.

You shoot him one last look that you hope is as menacing as it ought to be. You yank your goggles from resting on your forehead and dunk them in the water to get the fog out. Placing it back gingerly across your eyes, you let take in a soothing breath.

“I am serene. I am calm. There is nothing around me in existence that bothers me. I am the pinnacle of collected.” You refrain from adding tense-free.

There’s no way you’re tense after running the three and a half miles between your dorm and the swim center. You repeat the words aloud twice before you actually believe them. And then you tear back into the water. You still have roughly thirty minutes before the rest of the team comes in for practice. You’ll be damned spending all your time talking to the fool with shaggy hair and a crooked smile that made you want to burn something.

The only sound other than the whoosh in your ears and the rapid pumping of your heart as you exert yourself is the uncanny, blistering laughter of Jeon Jungkook. At least someone was enjoying your torment.

You swore at that moment that you were going to deck him someday. Even if it was the last thing you ever did. Maybe not even physically, gah, but you were going to get a time so fast, so unbelievably better that Jungkook would be dumbstruck in awe and lagging to catch up. You grin at the thought.

   By the time practice comes to an end, your knee has migrated from a troublesome ache to a colossal titan. Dragging your body out of the water proves to be much a greater task that you previously took for granted. You try and fail to hold back your groans as you attempt to not limp back to the locker rooms and take a shower. Also, you need a painkiller stat.

The coach is too busy being circled by the hyena pack that is freshmen to really pay any attention to you. However, you know better than to think you’ve slipped past his radar. He’s definitely going to catch you sometime later to rim your ass for going too hard the first day of the semester. You guess that makes him a great coach in the grand scheme of things but you’d rather he let you be.

“Your knee acting up again?” Your lane buddy and a veteran senior in the program, Seokjin asks as he saddles up next to you and rips the navy blue swim cap off his head. You fear a little bit for his hair. “I thought doc cleared it?”

You sigh, not really wanting to remember last year when the university-affiliated doctor told you that you needed to take three months off swimming to heal and you’d barely lasted two weeks without going insane. You shiver at the horror of it all as you wrap your Legend of Zelda limited edition Link towel around your dripping body.

“Yeah, he did.” You send him a smile that comes off like a wince and then you give up on trying to downplay the pain altogether. “Guess it’s just not doing so hot today.”

Seokjin nods solemnly like he understands. “Some days are worse than others. I get that.”

“It be like that. I’ll be fine.”

“Do you think you’d be set for March though? Coach’s probably going to start analyzing his final picks for the comp.”

Ugh, Goddess of the Sea take me now! The National Collegiate Swim Competition is an annual event held every March and even though you’d made the cut as a naïve freshman, a knee injury caused you to be sidelined in your second year. But now though, you have to get on the final lineup. An absolute must.

Your cold heart won’t take it to be on the stands watching your teammates accomplish something you dreamed of. Something you’d worked and sacrificed so much for. You won’t stand to watch Jungkook rub it in your face how he’d come in a mere 0.6 seconds away from the first position. And you definitely won’t stand to have another year put on hold when your dream is literally right in front of you.

You bite out a laugh that sounds foreign even to your own ears. God, your knee is killing you. “You know what they say about pain.”

Seokjin gives you a quizzical look. Like he, in fact, has no idea what you mean. And you’re about to launch into a tirade about exercise mottos when you feel a tall presence step up behind you. You don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. Of course, it’s him. Who else would encroach in on your personal space without a second thought?

“She means she’s gonna push through her limping and her tense as fuck shoulders and pull a win out of her ass. Don’t you,” the way he says your name is so patronizing, so unbelievably condescending that you whip your head up to glare at him.

“That’s impossible. If anyone knows how to take care of their body and not push their limits to insanity it’s Y/N.” Seokjin appears appalled that Jungkook would even think of such a thing. But Jungkook knows you better than anyone, albeit hatefully.

“Mm-hm. You doubt how crazy obsessed she is with winning.”

“Says you,” you spit out but it lacks your usual snark.

In truth, maybe Jungkook was right about your shoulders not being as stretched out as they should’ve been. They feel sore and they almost gave out on you during a lap. You were basically running on guts and mental fortitude for the last four laps. But you’d rather swallow butcher knives than admit that aloud for his ears to hear.

Seokjin is oblivious to the simmering tension between the two of you. Instead, he turns to you with so much concern sweeping through his posture it makes you uncomfortable and yet happy at the same time. “Take care of yourself, Y/N. There’s no point in winning if your body crashes on you, yeah?”

You know he means well and it’s not like you like lying to your senior but you know he just won’t get where you’re coming from. “Yeah,” you stare down at the suddenly interesting aqua-tiled floor.

He pats your shoulder once before he turns down the other way to the male locker rooms leaving you and Jungkook alone. You’re about to go on your own merry way — agonizingly slow of course, when a hand latches to your upper arm and stops you.

You swear you shouldn’t feel anything but your skin almost scorches at the contact. Your brain is divided: a part of you wants him to never let go, while the other half can’t get away from him fast enough. You don’t breathe, heck you don’t even move.

“Winning isn’t everything.”

You don’t mean to — truly, you don’t — but a scoff slips out of your lips before you even register it. “Coming from the golden boy that basically has a clear shot at making the lineup? Yeah, I won’t drink to that anytime soon.”

Jungkook uses his free hand to run through his hair like a maniac. And you entertain the idea that perhaps you really do get under his skin as much as he does you. The thought elates you and dilutes the throbbing in your knee to a lesser degree. He’s your biggest tormentor and you can only dream to be the same thing for him. Equivalent exchange and all that jazz.

He clicks his tongue at you and somehow that infuriates you even more. “You know what? Do whatever you want. Ruin your body for all I care.” He lets go of your arm like it’d be painful to hold it any longer. He pulls at the towel he has around his shoulders so hard that even you feel the burn and then he drapes it over his head, effectively blocking you out.

A forgotten part of you wonders why he’s so concerned about your body anyway. It’s not like he should care at all.

The two of you aren’t friends. Once upon a time that wasn’t the case but you aren’t one to cry over spilled milk much less bemoan over it. But it still rubs you some kind of way that Jungkook thinks it’s normal to voice his concern to you. The two of you are not close like that. At least, not anymore.

You scowl to yourself as you weave your way back to the locker room. You’re not much of a talker but you wave back at a few of the girls that bother to look your way. And spend a good ten minutes talking to a freshman about how she needs to stop holding her breath for long periods because all that does is make you dizzy and liable to pass out. After all that, it’s no wonder that you’re the last one out of the showers.

Tugging your baby blue beanie tight across your forehead, you curse yourself for forgetting to pack your knee brace when you left your dorm this morning. But whatever, you’ll push through it. You always do.

What you’re not expecting is to see a lithe body resting on the bench right outside the swim center.  And it strikes you as odd that you immediately know in your gut that it’s Jungkook. Even though you’re too chicken now to admit it, there was a time when you’d engraved his whole body into your mind like he was a science project you were desperately in need of completing. Although his body has since gained more muscle mass and reduced way more body fat, it’s still him. No matter how hard you try to burn him out of your memory, he never leaves. You fear your only remedy might be self-induced amnesia.

What you’re not expecting is for that body clad snugly in black sweatpants, a really oversized navy sweatshirt that has ‘I AM NOT GONNA BE MERCY’ branded in fine print across his chest, and a beanie that suspiciously matches the one on your own head, to turn up and catch your gaze like he knows you’ve been staring.

You blink once and then twice and then once more just to be sure. Weird. You have no idea why he’s waiting out here and you’re even more confused as to why he owns a beanie that looks way too much like yours to be a coincidence. You shift your gaze to the sidewalk, debating if it’s worth it to strike a conversation with him. All it will do is leave you irritated, so you decide to continue to your dorm instead. Screw him and whatever he’s out in this cold as shit weather for.

“What? You’re just gonna ignore me now?”

Huffing, you pretend he’s not matching his strides to your sluggish pace.

“This is cold, even for you.”

Maybe if you keep quiet he’ll think you’ve gone magically inept in the span of forty minutes?

“You know I thought I was doing a good thing by waiting for you.”

That gets you to break your mental battle. “I didn’t ask you to do that, Jeon.”

“I know that. But what if you slid across the pavement and went straight to the dimension of hell? I have to be there for that.” He sounds genuinely invested in the matter at hand.

“I can still walk perfectly fine, thank you very much.” You almost smack your head dead against the stoned ground when your foot snags a loose edge of the sidewalk. Fuck.

“Pfft.” He’s barely holding in his laughter but you don’t cower. Har-dee-har-har. You don’t need him breathing down your neck thinking he’s doing you a favor or anything.

You don’t need pity parties hosted by Jeon Jungkook. Not again. Not after that one night that you thought was perfect and monumental when in reality all it really was a blip in his radar. You’re nothing special, or at least Jungkook thought so. It’s been years since then but that’s the funny thing about pain. It doesn’t just die down because you refuse to think about it. It simmers, it boils, it festers. Pain is a living, breathing monster and simply because you don’t devote time to it doesn’t mean it’s not taking up space under your bed.

But you are not going to think about it. Because you are definitely over it. Yep. That was it. You are over your ex-best friend and you are happy... Bah, what-fucking-ever.

Maybe he realizes that you’re not in the mood for the snark he would normally throw your way because the walk back to your dorm is relatively quiet after that. This is the most civil the two of you have been in a long while. Most of times the both of you are too busy making jabs at each other. But you’d noticed that ever since your accident last year that busted your knee, he’s been different.

You’ve yet to decide if that difference is for good or bad but it doesn’t matter because you’re back at your dormitory which means you get to sleep the rest of the day before work. Yes, maybe there is a God.

“Look, take care of yourself, okay?”

You stop on the stone steps to take him in. His hands stuffed deep in his pockets, the January chill making the tip of his nose bright red but his eyes don’t hold the same mischievous fight as before. He’s determined. You know him well enough to know that.

“I’m not going to die climbing up some stupid stairs.”

He shakes his head. Guess he’s not up for jokes then. “I mean it,” he breathes your name out with so much seriousness it stuns you. “You can be cruel to me. You can be angry at me. But don’t take it out on your body. Just... don’t.”

What does he know about cruelty? He knows not jack shit about cruelty. Cruelty was a seventeen-year-old girl waxing poetic love to a boy that she thought hung the moon, the stars and the sun only for him to trample over it just because. Maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the timing, maybe it was every fucking thing in between but that night had been a changing point. Horror movies weren’t half as scary as being rejected by your best friend since before you were five and not know why. Cruelty was not whatever this limbo you and Jungkook had. You’d experienced cruelty and that was far worse.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do. Not then and certainly not now.”

Pushing your body to its limits is something you have to do. Getting better at swimming is something you would die trying to attain. Not because you particularly love swimming all that much but rather because it’s the one thing, the only thing that you really do believe you can beat Jungkook in. The only thing you can compete with him and with hard work win. You have to win. You can’t stand being second place next to him. It makes you want to gag. It makes you revert back to that seventeen-year-old girl you thought you’d killed off in your origin story.

Pathetic, you think to yourself. But you won’t stop because you’ve already come so far.

You rush up the stairs and into the dorm like lightning. You’re so quick that you don’t even feel any twinge of pain ricocheting from your knee or anywhere else to be honest. You’re a running painkiller. You haul ass all the way to your room and it’s only when you’ve locked the door and released the longest sigh of your whole adult life that it hits you.

And here’s another thing about pain: it always comes rushing back.

If it’s even possible, over the next few weeks your knee becomes even worse of a problem. Waking up in the morning becomes more of a drag than usual, you can barely walk to your classes much less the swim center without your brace on and then perform a Mission Impossible skit so that the rest of the team doesn’t see the brace dangling in your locker. You’re seriously considering ripping the whole joint out. For Zelda’s sake, it has to hurt significantly less, right?

To make matters worse you’re basically lying out of your ass to Seokjin and the rest of the team that your knee is not bothering you one bit. You’re such a liar, someone needs to lock you up for it. But it’s already the end of February and you can already taste the end of it all. All you need to do is hold on by the skin of your teeth for the next couple of days and then you’ll be free. Sure, rationally you know you’re not swimming your best right now but that does nothing to deter you from what you’ve set your mind on.

“Hey, Y/N,” the voice of the Student Assistant, Namjoon stops you in your attempt to blend in with the other swim members exiting the building after a rather rough day. “You came in later than usual today. Something up?”

Namjoon is an amazing guy. Attentive but not too overbearing. A great listener but he doesn’t go overboard with trying to get you to confess your deep, darkest fears to him. But even with knowing all of this, you still don’t want to tell him a thing. You know he’ll understand, that’s not the problem. The problem is, he would seriously blow it out of proportion. All you want to do is head home, nap for a good hour or three and then head to your afternoon class and get back to crashing. Was that too much to ask?

“Yeah, I’m great. Just a little tired.”

He raises an eyebrow at you, flipping through the sheet on his clipboard. “Hmm, your times been dropping since last week. You sure everything’s fine?”

Fuck. You fumble thinking of an answer, your eyes skittering around the tiled floor till you look up and lock on Jungkook staring right back. He’s a few feet away near the front door discussing with one of the assistant coaches but for some reason, his big, brown eyes are glued to your frame. An inane section of your brain wants to beg him to come over and rescue you from lying so horribly to Namjoon. While another insane part of you wants to sneer at him and tell him to stop freaking looking at you when you’re at your worst.

“I... uh,” you stutter and return your attention back to the kind senior in front of you. “I’m fine. I promise.”

Namjoon cocks an eyebrow at you, disbelieving. “Is it your knee? We could get the team doctor — ”

Your eyes widen in alarm and you stumble away from him, your thoughts passing the point of loudness and encroaching into deafness. No way. There’s no way you’re going to let him bring up your injury and then take it up with the other coaches because you know — deep in your bones — that if he does that you won’t make the cut for the lineup talk less of being able to just attend practice. You’d be kept on the side like an invalid.

Hate.

You hate it. Your stupid knee, the stupid way you were running late to practice almost a full year ago and then proceeded to fall down a flight of stairs and dislocate your knee so bad that when the seasons shift from sunny to cloudy, your knee throbs like an ingrained weather alert.

You hate how much the pain makes you want to cry. You hate yourself for pushing yourself, even more, when you know you shouldn’t. You hate how everyone is so damn concerned about you like you somehow deserve it. You hate that you don’t deserve their kindness, not when every other athlete next to you is getting better and better by the second and you don’t want to be left behind.

“Bro, she’ll be fine.” You don’t realize your savior and yet tormentor has weaseled his way into the conversation until you you hear the soft timbre of his voice. He stands so close to you that you smell the sweet scent of vanilla from his clothes. “I mean, look at her. Her technique is still kicking ass, no one can touch her when it comes to form.”

Lips wobbling a little under the pressure of your teeth, you peer up at him. Your mind running a mile a minute trying to place what his endgame is. Why is he here? What does he think he’s doing?

Namjoon laughs, his features becoming even more stunning with the action and you glance away from Jungkook. There’s no way he bought that blatant form of flattery. “That is true. Y/N has the best technique in the program right now. Probably best in the state.”

Lies. You know there’s talk about some super senior at a neighboring powerhouse school being the best in your division. But your mind is clogged up with your loud thoughts that you don’t say anything to refute his claim.

“Anyways, let me know if you need anything, ‘Kay?” Namjoon demands your attention. “Take it easy and rest up this weekend.”

You nod profusely and Namjoon smiles at the action like your adorable. You frown at that. And then he’s gone and you’re stuck with Jungkook and the thoughts clamoring around in your head.

“I didn’t need you to save me. Or lie for me.”

“Sure,” he says but his eyes say something different. That maybe if you really didn’t want his help you shouldn’t have looked at him like a deer in headlights practically begging the floor to swallow you up. “And I wasn’t lying. You do have a better technique.”

You roll your shoulders, ignoring the praise. “Seriously. I was fine.”

“Fine my ass,” he mutters, pushing past your body and heading outside the door.

“I didn’t need your help and I don’t owe you —” The frigid air whips across your cheeks so hard that you have to stop and close your eyes for a beat. When you peel them back open you find Jungkook looking down at you without something akin to disappointment swimming in his eyes. “What?”

He stares at you for what seems like an eternity. You try not to break away from his gaze but your eyes skittle across his outfit. The beanie on his head that outrageously still looks similar to the one you have on, his grey padded jacket and a similar shade of sweatpants. And by the time your eyes reach back to his face, his focus has diverted to glaring needles at your knee.

“What?” You repeat, this time though you’re whispering like you might not like what he will say next.

“I don’t get it. You of all people know how horrible last year was. Why are you doing this to yourself?”

You suck in a deep breath, not wanting to relive your sophomore year. “Why do you care?”

“Why?” Jungkook practically stutters at the question, his already big doe eyes transforming into the size of craters. “Are you trying to prove something? To who? Me?”

“I don’t care about you, Jeon. And I don’t need to prove any single thing to you. You’re dead to me.”

“You think that by carrying this invisible burden and pushing yourself to the point of borderline insanity you’re going to get better? That you won’t burnout? That somehow you’re going to get back at me? After you’ve ruined your knee and not only ruined your chances at swimming competitively ever again but just in general? You think you’d finally feel like you’ve served me a hot plate of revenge?”

There’s no reason for him to be able to see right through you so easily. There’s no reason for him to know how stupid this whole thing is and how really the only one suffering is you. Always you. Only you. Alone.

Jungkook’s face twists into a vision of pain and you’re stunned into silence. It’s like you can tell how much your disregard for your own body is affecting him when it shouldn’t. He’s your self-proclaimed enemy that was once your friend. You shouldn’t feel like you’re hurting him more than yourself.

You don’t even feel the lone tear that slips past your walls and slides down your cheek until he moves closer and uses a smooth thumb to wipe it away. Dammit, you’re better than this.

“Not everything is about you, Jungkook.” But right now it is. For you, it is.

He nods his head once. The pain that was painted on his face morphing into something you can’t discern but his thumb doesn’t lift from your face. Instead, the rest of his fingers cradle the side of your face like they’re protecting you. You inflate at the action. After several seconds, they’re gone.

“I should go,” he states matter-of-factly.

Don’t, you want to say but the words live and die in your throat You know if you start you’d say too much. “Yeah.”

Even though you want him to make up some silly excuse as to why he has to walk you home. Like maybe you’d slip and knock yourself into the netherworld. He does nothing of that sort. He puffs out his cheeks; resembling a bunny, and then he sends you a wary smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.

For the first time in ages, you don’t like the sight of his retreating back. For the first time in a long time, you don’t even have the energy to pledge eternal damnation to Jeon Jungkook. All you want to do is ask him why. Why were you not enough? Why did he hand you back your heart when all you wanted was for him to keep it. And why did he suddenly do a one-eighty in college, resorting to snide comments and remarks that make you boil but also instill air into your lungs like you are finally breathing again? Why does it seem like he still cares?

You’re on a mission to drown out everything that has to do with Jeon Jungkook. You don’t like that he has created a rupture in your stratosphere. You don’t like that you’re realizing that you’ve been waging a war but not against Jungkook like you’d originally perceived. Now now that you think about it, when has he really been a rival? You’ve really only been fighting yourself.

The two of you aren’t even in the same category. You don’t even specialize in the same swimming techniques. And now that you’re seriously going through it, has he ever really been conceited about getting better times? All he ever did was point out things you were doing off and even though you hated it, it wasn’t like he was lying.

You’re one step away from your dorm when your phone buzzes with a flurry of text messages. It’s from the swim team group chat for juniors and seniors.

Taehyung: It’s the weekend mi amigos *dancing emoji*

Vivian: whatever you’re thinking... it’s gonna be a no! from me! also i thought u were sick?

Taehyung: aw come on i havent even said anything yet

Taehyung: not! sick! it was just the flu

Seokjin: flu is a sickness, no?

Vivian: im so tired dudes,, im not going out with y’all to get smashed

Nathan: im down

Taehyung: yes!!!!

Taehyung: guys i promise! you’ll love me for it. a friend of a friend is hosting a party on Greek row. Let’s GO!!

Vivian: it’s not like we’re the only friends you have. ask someone else dude

Before you even think about it, you’re typing a response.

You: I’ll come. We don’t have training tmr so...

Taehyung: OMFG

Nathan: i had no idea you were in the chat lol

Vivian: rude. if y/n’s going then maybe she’ll keep Tae’s head on straight

Seokjin: don’t know if JK’s down but I’ll drag him out if I have to.

You: don’t do that.

Taehyung: why? don’t you guys have that whole foreplay thing going on or?????

You: WHAT

Vivian: wait i might come after all

Seokjin: Tae, leave it alone.

Taehyung: okay but it’s not my fault they both barely look at anyone other than themselves during practice. i can’t be the only one that noticed them basically eye-fucking each other all day everyday

Nathan: i second that

Vivian: ... sorry, y/n. but i third that

Seokjin: GUYS. if she leaves the chat because y’all can’t keep your mouth shut istg,,

Nathan: wait is jungkook reading this?

God, how you want the whole universe to open up and swallow you whole. Your phone feels like a hot potato in your hands. You throw the wretched thing into the back of your jeans pocket and blink over and over again as you rush into your dorm and up the elevator.

It takes the rest of the day to calm your cheeks from splitting from humiliation or embarrassment, it’s a close tie. You don’t pay attention in class, you can barely nap without the words blinking at the back of your eyelids like neon target signs.

Foreplay? Foreplay?!

You almost spontaneously combust.

You hear the telltale sound of a key unlocking your dorm room door and you hightail out of the ensuite bathroom before you can even think.

“Foreplay?!” You all but scream at your roommate and fellow swim team member, Vivian.

At the very least she looks sheepish, smiling nervously as she pushes a piece of her coiled hair behind her ear. “I thought you knew. I mean, everyone talks about it.”

“What about me wanting to rip his ass from his hole screams foreplay to anyone?!”

She shrugs, her lilac sweater falling down one brown shoulder. “I don’t know, it’s kinda sexy.” She drops her backpack on the only sofa and turns back to you. “He’s the only one you really talk to in the team so, everyone just kinda assumed y’all were either a has-been or a to-be couple.”

Wheezing, you lock your arms defiantly across your chest. “I don’t like him.”

“Yeah, okay.” Vivian laughs, unconvinced for some reason.

“I’m not kidding. He’s annoying. Always breathing down my neck like he’s my personal trainer or something. Any time I do a thing it’s like he has to say something in response, you know. I don’t hate him but I don’t... I don’t like like him.”

“Do you think he’s attractive?”

“Everyone does.”

She smirks at you like she’s caught you dead in a trap. “And you?”

You bite your lip. It’s not worth the hassle to lie. “A little bit. A teeny-tiny bit.”

“What about him do you think is attractive? And don’t mention his thighs because we all know those are in a different league of their own.”

That gets a laugh out of you. Vivian’s mouth widens at the sound. You realize then that maybe, just maybe, you’ve been hoarding things in for too long. And you appreciate Vivian because she’s always been nice and has tolerated your one-worded answers and four am showers like a champ. You want to give her an award or something.

You lean against the wall and think about her question. “Well, in a way his nagging and pushing my buttons can be seen as being attentive? I mean, he notices things about me that I don’t. And I’ve been… thinking that maybe he’s not really all that bad like I conjured up in my head.” More than that, before everything turned to shit, you thought he was the kindest, funniest person in the galaxy.

“Well, I’m no team Jungkook,” she snickers at her own Twilight reference and your lips tilt up as well. “And I won’t pretend to know what’s gone on between you and him. But whatever it is, maybe y’all just need to, like, talk it out.”

“I—”

Vivian shushes you. “You know I’m right.” She sashays to her room door and then turns back to you. “We’re going to go to Taehyung’s friend of a friend’s frat party and you’re gonna get the liquid courage to talk to him. I think everyone on the team would appreciate the whole sexual tension going on between the two of you finally being exiled into the cosmos.”

Cosmos?

You’re not really sure what happens after that. You let Vivian convince you to trade your comfortable sweatpants for an A-line skirt, tights and a stylish sweater that you’d bought on a whim. At least if you’re going to really say screw all and go for this party, you refuse to be a shivering mess.

Even though Greek Row is truly not that far from your dorm, you let Vivian drive the two of you over. She talks about everything and anything and it feels like it’s been forever since you hung out with anyone that wasn’t during scheduled practice and workout sessions.

Hell, what have you been doing for the last four years? Being obsessed with results that apparently your arch-nemesis doesn’t even care about?

Vivian tells you about the dude she’s dating and how he’s on the university’s volleyball team. You’re more surprised than you should be. You can’t believe you’ve been roommates with her for almost two years and you barely know anything about her other than surface-level shit. Oh, Zelda, this is one big bitch of an awakening.

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely as she puts the car in park aways from the actual fraternity building. The entire street is blocked up with cars so it was hard to find any space. “For being here and yet not really at the same time.”

Thankfully, Vivian doesn’t make you sweat. “S’cool. Everyone’s got their own shit.”

“I’ve been really shitty lately.”

“Hmm, well, we can get drunk off our asses and feel really shitty together?” You decide then and there that she is amazing and only the devil will be able to pry this budding friendship out of your cold hands.

You find out that Vivian is very skilled at mixing drinks. It takes barely half an hour for you to start feeling a buzz and by your third round of whatever she stirs for you, you’ve straight up arrived at the land of Drunkenville: population; one. You’re busy debating with her and her boyfriend about how sports anime is simply the best branch of cinema to have ever been created and the one sub-genre that truly speaks about the resilience of the human spirit when you feel a heavy arm wrap around your shoulders.

“Y/N,” the voice all but screams in your ear. You hazily look up to see Taehyung’s chiseled face smiling down at you. And even your intoxicated self can tell that he’s pregamed the fuck out of this night already. “I brought lil Jungkookie for you. At first, he was all blah blah not going but when I said you were going to be here. Boi jumped like a fish in water.”

Taehyung laughs and you laugh with him, not really sure if you get the joke but happy nonetheless that he’s happy.

“‘Sup Viv and Viv’s boyfriend,” he salutes them and weirdly enough, Vivian’s boyfriend doesn’t take offense. He salutes back.

Vivian rolls her eyes but then she clasps two strong hands across your shoulders, effectively washing away the tipsy gaze from your eyes for a moment. “Now, listen. You’re going to find Jungkook and let him know how you really feel. Use all this liquid courage and let him have it. And you shouldn’t care that we’re at a party because almost everyone is drunk anyway.

And if that goes to shit and you want out of this place, don’t you dare even think of walking home, okay? You look for me. Don’t think I haven’t seen you limping your way across the dorm like a crazy bitch. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t have the right. But so help me, if you so much as think of walking back I will ... I don’t know what I will do but you won’t like it! So go find Jungkook and do us all a favor and end this eternal foreplay.”

Foreplay... that damned word again. It overrides your brain system and makes you think of things you shouldn’t want. But you’re stupidly confident right now. Hell, your knee hasn’t really been bothering you since you woke up from your nap. The alcohol in your blood is dancing to its own beat and it’s lighting your system on fire.

If not now then when?

You have a gazillion and one questions to ask Jungkook. Questions you’ve kept silenced and bottled down in your heart for years. Questions that keep you up at night. And maybe its because the last month and a half has made you question everything about yourself and your ethic and your predicament, you know you have to do this now.

Fuck it. Who cares if you become the source of this boorish party’s entertainment like a walking cliché? It’s not like you’d remember anything that happens here and you only know a handful of people. Embarrassment? You don’t know her. Not today.

You find him in the basement with a cup of something near his booted feet and his gleaming eyes transfixed on the TV in front of him. His tongue poking a hole in cheek. There’s a small crowd of people around him and you take one glance at the screen and see that he’s playing Super Smash. Of course. He looks beautiful like this. Different than the last time you saw him and better because he doesn’t have that look of agony coloring his eyes.

You could probably spend a whole day just looking at him. Taking in the man that’s grown from the boy you once knew and called your own. His body is a work of art and ought to be chiseled and crafted like the sculptures of the Renaissance era. If you were any good a sculptor, you would’ve done just that. Instead, you commit him to memory. Because even though it is possible that neither of you likes each other anymore, you want to remember this.

He looks perfect like this. Happy. Not distressed and sad like when you’d confessed to him. When you had laid your heart bare before him and he didn’t even react. You wish you could say he had pried your heart out of your hands and ripped it to shreds. But that wasn’t the case. Your heart hadn’t shattered by his blatant rejection. It had melted.  

You watch as his character, Link, of course, K.O’s his opponent and Player 2 Victory flashes on the television screen. He wins. Like always. You don’t feel mad like you usually do. Maybe you’ve finally accepted that there are just some things you can’t win no matter how steadfast and committed you are.

Jungkook looks up from his controller, pumping his fist in the air, his long, dark hair flopping around his face like a curtain. Your veins practically burst with electricity when his smiling eyes notice yours in the corner like you knew they would. The smile dims and you expect that. You’re not asking for a love to cure all epidemics or a lie to burn your body to ash. You just want to move on. To finally escape the purgatory you’ve put yourself in.

“We need to talk,” you try to say as loud as you can but the cheers and conversations of the people around you drown you out.

Somehow in someway, he hears you and nods his head. Maybe he’s a glutton for pain like you. He scoots out of the loveseat, standing to his full height and making pleasant excuses to his newly acquired friends that you don’t know. Maybe it’s the fake courage but you don’t take your gaze away from him. You’re going to do this. You have to — you suck in a huge breath — you must.

Once he steps into your bubble of personal space, the rest of the world fizzles out.

“This is a bundle of firsts, Ice Queen. You? At a party and instigating a conversation with me first? Damn, did you get a taste of hell without me videoing?”

“You always joke about everything,” you decide to bite the bullet. “I used to find that really cute.”

Alcohol o’ alcohol, why hath thou forsaken me? You almost look up to the heavens and question what possessed you to drink so much but then you rehear Vivian’s speech in your head and you find your resolve and strangle it.

Jungkook’s eyebrows fly up like he’s not quite prepared for this. “Wait, what are you... Are you drunk right —”

“I’m not good with words. And I’ve always sucked at speaking my mind and being thoughtful and generally being a good person. Like you,” you smile sadly when you remember the first time you ever made a friend; the boy in front of you that had offered you to come over sometime and play his GameCube with him when his older siblings were too busy to hang with him. “I’m passive at best when it comes to anything that’s not swimming. And even that, you got me into it. You were the reason I started it. You know this, I would’ve rather died than engage in anything that made me exert energy. But you made it fun until I genuinely loved it.”

“That’s not,” Jungkook shakes his head adamantly. “That’s—”

You shoot him a look. “Let me finish okay? I have this whole thing in my head and ... please, just let me say it.”

You hadn’t realized the curious looks the people around had been shooting your way until you see Jungkook scowl at any and every one before he intertwines your hands with his and pulls you out of the basement in a swift motion. You don’t mind the giddy feeling enveloping your chest at the sight of your fingers wrapped around each other. A part of you actually loves how cocooned it makes you feel. You want to bottle this feeling up and bathe in it.

He must be overfamiliar with the frat house because he leads you expertly into a room at the end of the hallway on the first floor. He shuts the door and then locks it. For a minute, he stares at your locked hands and you wonder if he feels the same pull you do. If he’s ever felt the same pull you do.

“When I handed you my heart and my everything, why didn’t you want it? Why did you act like I had committed a grievous crime against you and your glorious self?”

There. You’ve gone and said the thing. The biggest question that has plagued your mind for months and years. If your best friend didn’t even find value in you then really, was there any to begin with?

Jungkook lets out a heavy sigh that careens his shoulders down as if he’s carrying the weight of the world. A sigh so deep that it shakes his body from the vibrations visible through his black tee, and crashes into your soul. He closes his eyes for his barely a second but you wish he’d just spit it out. Pour acid on your wounds so you can feel the fire of a thousand suns and finally, fucking finally move on. Baptism by fire they call it but what you want is a goddamn exorcism.

“You thought I shat gold and that I hung the moon and that I was this perfect person when I’m not. I mean, have you listened to yourself? You think you’re a bad person because all you’ve ever done is compare me to you. But it was you and me. Not either or.

You think I really love swimming when you’re not the one egging me on? Pushing me to be better? You think I would’ve let you confess your magnificent love for me and then accept it when every sentence you said contrasted you from me. Pitted you against me? I’m competitive, you’re competitive but I didn’t think you needed competition when it came to that. You’d already won. And then I had this crazy stupid idea that maybe just being friends with you would work. I mean, love isn’t something you need to fight yourself bloody and dead for. Why would I accept this really amazing love from someone that was going to feel less than me and feel like shit for it?”

“So, what were you gonna do? Just wait till I up and decided that I was insecure and didn’t have a major inferiority complex I had no idea about?” Your sober thoughts vomit out of your mouth with impressive speed.

“I was still your friend,” Jungkook almost yells and out of his aggravation, his hands slip out of yours. The loss is staggering. He jabs his index finger into his chest. “I did everything I could do to still be your friend. But you wouldn’t talk to me. And I get that we were sixteen and there were so many ways we could’ve done better but you shut me out.”

“No, I…” You begin to say but the words die in your mouth.

Truth be told, you did shut him out. It wasn’t like you blocked him on every site. But when he tried to talk to you at school, you pretended he wasn’t there. When he stopped over at your place, you told your parents that you were sick and to keep him out. When he sent party invites on the gaming platforms the two of you shared a love for, you ignored them and turned off your console. But it wasn’t like you did all of this out of spite to begin with. It was just easier.

You were hurt. Seeing him brought on multiple feelings of shame, embarrassment, and pain all wrapped snugly like a demonic burrito. And he was your best friend, it wasn’t like you didn’t have other friends you could’ve asked for advice but the one person you wanted to talk to was the one person you couldn’t reach out to. So you didn’t think about it. Instead, you threw yourself headfirst into freezing ass water and worked your butt off with the one thing you had left.

And contrary to what Jungkook believes, he made you feel good about yourself. Like an anchor. You didn’t have to hide your nerdiness between a cold exterior so as to not get teased about it. With him, you were free. Like he was a sun that burned a path that enabled you to breathe easy. To be yourself so that you wouldn’t drown.

“You think I really go around joking with every bum on the swim team about Down To Fuck Demons for hire or that I walk every person with a rubbish knee home in fucking negative degree weather? Or that I worry about everyone that’s throwing their whole future away over a rivalry that doesn’t even exist? You think I’ve been playing the role of a pest around you because I hate you? —”

“Vehemently despise,” you choke on your words but your sense of seriousness causes Jungkook to burst into a staccato of quick muted laughter.

“Y/N,” he whispers your name like it’s a thing of beauty. And maybe it is. Right now you think so. “Firstly, I was dumb and I thought if I left things as they were maybe you’d realize how fucking awesome you were without me. But then all you ever did was practice and practice like you were training for an aquatics mafia or some shit. And then I realized that maybe you’re not the only one that sucks with words and when to say them. I should’ve told you that I did love you. Platonically. Romantically. And you made me feel great and not because you were less than but rather because being with you meant that I was my best self.”

You feel a cascade of water flooding down your cheeks like a waterfall but you don’t release a sound and you don’t really care about it because this moment feels sacred. Because you’re not crying out of pain or agony or longing. Rather it’s because you finally understand.

“You were like the sun and you were so blinding that I thought I would incinerate if I was still next to you like nothing happened.”

“Ha,” Jungkook scoffs, using a palm to run across his face. Then he squints his eyes at you like he’s seeing you anew for the first time. “If I’m the sun then you are —”

“The sun eater.” The words fly out of your mouth with ease. Quoting your fave anime characters was a thing the two of you had done relentlessly for days, heck, years.

Jungkook nods his head, elated that you remember like there was ever a time you’d forget My Hero Academia. “I’m not gonna apologize for not accepting your confession back then. I can’t. Not when I genuinely think neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing back then. Still don’t.”

“And I’m not going to say sorry for pulling away from you. I mean, I’m not a masochist.”

He lets out a throaty laugh that washes your insides clean. And you give a watery smile back, feeling soberer than you did a couple hours ago. You bet you look worse for wear but you don’t care because you’re done not pretending.

“Why did it take four years for me to...” your voice chokes and you almost break down right then and there. But your stubbornness is a thing of pride. “For us to finally talk about it. It would’ve made so much more sense if we had just talked and now I feel like I’ve wasted four years of my life being angry? Feeling discarded? But it’s not like that at all.”

Jungkook’s smooth yet experienced hands cradle the sides of your face and the overflowing tears pool in the flesh that connects his thumbs to your skin. “Friends fight all the time.”

You snort and he grins. “Most friends aren’t half as dumb as us.”

“You got that right. I think dumbness is attractive.” He says with an overflowing aura of achievement. “This just means we’ll just have to spend more time making up for it.” He dips his head down till his lips brush the tip of your ear. “And by the way, I think I’m done being your friend exclusively,” he says.

“Yeah?” You ask and for an inane reason, you smile even harder because the tears on your face feel like rain. And you’re still breathing easier, albeit a tad bit faster. But there’s no crash and burn after you’ve soared too close to the sun. Unlike before your heart feels like it’s glowing instead of charring.

“I think I want to take you out on a date.”

Your eyes widen with faux-horror. “Just one?”

“Oh my Zelda, can I at least finish my grand speech?” He rolls his eyes. “As I was saying, it won’t be one date but you know that kinda depends on if you’re still god at Fortnite. I mean, partying up is basically the same as marriage, you know?”

“Kook?”

“Yeah?”

“Your inner nerd is showing.”

Jungkook sputters loudly, the action making his hair swish across his forehead and his hands drop from your face. “Oh, forgive me. I thought you loved my nerdiness.”

“Love,” you correct him. “Present tense.”

His mouth practically breaks even with the floor with how wide he’s gaping. You haven’t sprouted a second head, have you?

You clear your throat, attempting to be blasé about the whole thing. “Well, if we’re really going to pursue this whole dating thing then I have to be honest, right? I think it’s quite sexy how knowledgeable you are about gaming and stuff even though we’re like hardcore athletes.”

“So I’m like an onion? Three dimensional? The more you get to know me, the more you love how I’m not like Other Guys trademark sign?”

You guffaw so hard you almost start crying all over again. “Oh my Zelda, we were having a moment. Why did you ruin our moment?”

“Think I can make up for it.” He looks at you with something akin to competition and licks his lips.

Your eyes falter at the action, zeroing in on them. Suddenly the distance between yours and his feels like a crime against humanity. It’s comical really, how the temperature of your body can fly from ice cold to a blazing inferno in less than minutes.

“Fuck,” you whisper.

“As you wish.”

Jungkook bends his lips to connect with yours in a swift motion. You’re surprised but a part of you must have anticipated it because you are pushing deeper into him as quickly as humanly possible. His arms snake across your waist, his hands landing squarely on your ass and his groan eliciting a magnitude of butterflies in the pit of your stomach as his tongue danced an infinite tango with yours. Smoothly, he backs you up until you feel your head tap a wall for support.

Holy crap shit. Your mind is a mess. No wait, your mouth is a mess. A warped sense of dizziness floods through your body and it has nothing to do with the alcohol you consumed earlier and everything to do with the sensuous teeth nipping at your bottom lip while his hands deftly squeeze your ass. Fuck, you can’t breathe. You don’t want to breathe. You cling unto his shoulders for stability and revel at how corded they feel under your touch.

He tears his lips away from yours, breathless, resting his forehead against yours. “God, you’re gonna be the death of me.”

“You can’t die until we get to the part where we role-play as demon and a naive spell caster.” You’re out of breath as well because that kiss was something else. Divine, maybe.

“I get to be the demon though, right?”

You grin at that. “Of course. I’m not a heathen.”

This time you kissed him, pushing all thoughts of future escapades further away from your mind and focusing on the beautiful man in front of you. Reaching up, you dig your hands through Jungkook’s abundant hair and moan. You understand then what it must have been like for Icarus to fly off to the sun. It must have scorched his skin to death within seconds, and yet at the same time, it must have been oh so slow. And you doubt he despaired because in the end he was heading home and he was finally not alone. You understand so well because the more the fire in your veins expands, the more you come close to burning up entirely. And you love it. You’re losing all control and you don’t care because he’s losing his alongside you.

Everything turns into a mess of frenzied motions. Him reluctantly removing a hand from your ass to reach up and use his fingers to clasp around your throat and position it just right enough for him to latch his lips there and suck. hard. When he pulls away from you to admire his handiwork, the lopsided grin on his face almost sends you into another need to kiss him.

“I’m not gonna fuck you at a frat party when only Zelda knows how many losers have cummed on a singular bedsheet,” he announces without remorse.

“Fair enough.”

“But I am going to do very wicked things to you that’ll loosen up those shoulders to the point of being supple. And after that, you’re gonna promise me that we’ll go get your knee checked out later.”

A few hours you would’ve kicked and screamed at the idea of anything derailing your plan of getting on the lineup for the competition. You thought that admitting you need help meant that you were quitting. Punishing yourself for something so irrevocably at out of your control. Now though, you nod your head drowsily. You hate the doctors but you hate self-destructing even more. Especially now when you have someone that hurts when you hurt.

He’s unraveling you.

“I’ll go.”

His eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, not believing how easily you’ve conceded to him. “Where has my sweet, stubborn Ice Queen gone? Bring her back to me, please. All this ecstasy must have gone to her head.”

God, whoever said you still won’t want to deck Jungkook even after experiencing something so explosive. But his grin threatens to split your heart two. Like he’s happy to just be with you, adoring you, joking with you. Oh, how your body is singing with praises.

“Yours?” You cock an eyebrow at him.

Jungkook beams. He’s the sun and you’re the moon. Now that you’ve tasted this, you’re never going to let go. You are simply submerged.

“Haven’t you realized? You’re my girl.”

a/n: i know very much that i took a lot of liberty when writing about collegiate swimming/sports in generral (i took an advanced swim class at my uni last semester so thats where all my info comes from) i tweaked it a lil bit to fit my purposes but it was fun to try to write about it hehe. 

i hope you all loved this fic as much as i loved writing it!!!! 

⇢ masterlist

©️ 2020 kai, high-on-food. ✉

[nialledfromfics]

The Dating Game | Chapter Two

~~

Nearly a week had gone by since her catastrophe of a first date with Puke Boy and Joey woke up the following Friday morning, bright and early, to get ready for work. She attempted to stretch her legs out under the warmth of her weighted blanket as her phone alarm blared from her bedside table, but a little bump at the end of her bed hindered her from moving. Twisting her upper body to tap off her alarm, Joey eased herself up and used her toes to gently nudge at the warm bundle that rested by her feet. With a tiny furry head popping up from the protective curl of its body, Joey smiled and reached down to ruffle her fingers over the dogs’ head. “Morning, Sadie,” she yawned out, flipping the covers off her bare legs and forcing herself out of bed. “Time to get up!” 

The brown long haired Dachshund hopped right up as Joey pushed to her feet, Sadie jumping onto the floor to follow the young woman into the bathroom. After a quick shower and taking Sadie on her morning walk, Joey grabbed her travel mug filled with coffee from the kitchen counter and the overstuffed ‘#1 teacher’ tote bag that was hanging on the back of a chair, and headed into work. 

She was met by her best friend, and fellow teacher, Alexis and her son, Lincoln, the moment she stepped foot into her empty classroom. “Morning, Lincoln,” Joey greeted her student as she flipped on the classroom lights.

Lincoln slumped over to his cubby to put his book bag away. “Mornin’, Ms. Parker.” 

She smiled at the fair-haired little boy before turning to her best friend. “Hey you,” she greeted, setting her bag and hot coffee down on her desk.

Alexis shuffled two large tote bags on her shoulder. “I forgot my coffee this morning,” she whined, wringing her hands up through her dirty blonde hair as she attempted to pull it back out of her way and in a low ponytail. 

Joey chuckled, and nodded to the travel mug on her desk. “You can take mine if you want.” 

“Oh please, no. I’ll just have to live off the bad excuse for coffee that’s in the teachers lounge this morning,” she said with an eye roll, “wouldn’t be a normal crappy morning without it!” 

Pushing out another laugh, Joey turned to the whiteboard behind her and picked up a marker, writing out the date and the topic for the day: Rhyming Words. “So,” her fidgety friend continued as a few of the other faculty members began to noisily fill the hallways, “what are your plans for this weekend? Another hot date with Puke Boy?”

Alexis had a very sarcastic tone with that last bit and Joey peeked over at her, noticing the smirk on her face. “Funny,” she commented before going back to her board and marking down the days’ forecast. “Actually I do have another date tomorrow night. But with a new guy.” 

A playful gasp came from her blonde friend. “Ooh do tell.” 

Setting the marker down, Joey spun back around to face her desk and began pulling some graded papers out of her tote bag. “I really don’t know much about him, to be honest,” she started, glancing up at Alexis. “His name is Omar. He’s tall, from what he says, he’s an exec at some kind of tech company and he drives a Maserati. That’s pretty much all he told me.” 

“Interesting,” Alexis mumbled with narrowed eyes. “Where are you guys going?”

“To that...music festival in Santa Monica? I forgot the name of it.”

“Rhythm and Lights?”

Joey’s eyes went big and she pointed at her friend. “Yes, that’s it. We’re meeting there at five.” 

“Hmm,” Alexis hummed out, her mouth turned down at the corners, “that should be fun. At least if he gets drunk and throws up, ya’ll will already be outside.” 

Joey let out a long sigh, slightly cocking her jaw to the side in agitation. “I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Nope,” her friend said with a satisfied giggle.

Joey shook her head and went to grab the containers of crayons out of the utility closet just as a few of her students started to trickle into the classroom. “Alright, I guess I better get over to my own room or those fifth graders will have my head!” Alexis joked, stepping over to Lincoln to give him a kiss goodbye. “Have a good day, buddy.” 

“See ya at lunch, Lex,” Joey called out as her friend began to walk out of the classroom.

“Yup!” 

•

“Omar, right?” 

He hadn’t lied, he was tall. Like six foot, four tall. And his arms were massive. He was respectively handsome, dark eyes and dark hair and he immediately hugged Joey when she met him outside of the festival grounds. That took her by surprise for a split second, but as they began walking through the front gates and his hand slipped to sit at her way lower back, it became clear that he was a touchy feely kinda guy. Really touchy feely. 

It also became clear that Omar was very confident. Almost too confident for her liking and had a bit of a wandering eye from the few glances she caught him taking when a group of girls would walk past them. But Joey decided to roll with it and let herself have some fun. The music was blaring and he was a good dancer, and he did make her laugh a few times. 

“This was a really great idea!” Joey shouted to Omar, assuming he could hear her over the thumping music from the band that was on stage. 

“Huh?” 

Apparently he couldn’t. Joey moved herself closer to him, Omar taking what he thought was a hint and wrapping his arms tightly around her waist. “Oh…” Joey stuttered out, as she felt both his hands start to slip down her backside. She contemplated kicking him in the shin and running away, but that seemed a bit too dramatic, so Joey, once again, decided to just go with it. He seemed harmless. She hung her arms up around his shoulders, following his rhythm as they began to dance. “This is fun!” she told him, hoping he would hear her this time. 

Omar smiled and nodded his head before burying his face down against her neck. Joey’s eyes went big as his mouth latched onto the side of her throat and she nearly choked on her breath when his fingers dug harshly into the bottom curve of her ass. Pushing back slightly, Omar lifted his head with a crinkled brow and Joey smiled big at him, not wanting to make the situation any more weird that it had already gotten. “I’m gonna go get us some more drinks, okay? You want?” 

“Sure...a beer is good.” 

“Cool, I’ll be right back!” 

Spinning on her heels, Joey rolled her eyes and carefully weaved around the crowds to make her way back towards the tented bar at the other side of the grounds. She waited in the long line for at least fifteen minutes, brushing tiny strands of her red hair off her face that had fallen from her high ponytail and stuck to her sweaty skin. She was sure she was looking quite ravishing. If the drops of sweat sliding down the middle of her back, the mud covering her black boots and the spilt beer on her jean shorts were any indication.

After placing her order, one beer and one large mojito, she moved over to the side a bit to wait with the other customers as the busy bartenders prepared the drinks. Joey pulled out her phone and tried to check her email but she was barely getting any service and refreshing the app wasn’t working. She was beyond frustrated at that point. “C’mon, you stupid piece of shit–”

“Joey?” 

The vaguely familiar and mesmerizing voice stalled her mid sentence and Joey peeked over to her right. There was no mistaking those gorgeous baby blues, it was him. Again. “Niall?” she blurted out, almost not believing it herself, “Oh my God, hi!” 

He tipped his head down slightly in a half smile. “How are ya?”

“I’m good,” Joey said, stuffing her phone into her back pocket and turning her shoulders slightly to face Niall. “Wow, this is so crazy running into you here, how are you?”

A chuckle slipped past his lips and Joey’s eyes caught him as he messily combed his fingers through the front of his hair. It looked even softer than the last time she had seen him. “I’m alright. How, um...how was your date last week?” 

Joey pulled in a deep breath. “Well...he ended up getting super drunk, threw up on my leg at the restaurant and I had to call him a Lyft home before we even finished dinner, so...not super great.”

“Jesus.” 

“I know,” she laughed, shaking her head as she shyly looked down at the toes of her boots. “He was also weirdly obsessed with his cat? Most definitely dodged a bullet there.” 

Niall tossed his head back in a low laugh, his eyes pinching shut as the sound rumbled in his chest. Joey bit at her lip as she watched him, her stare locked on the base of his neck. He had a really, really nice looking neck. She couldn’t help but let her eyes slide down just a bit further, Niall’s white tank that nestled under his open short sleeve button up perfectly showed off just the right amount of his dark chest hair. There was no denying how sexy he looked. Shaking her head out of her insane thoughts, she quickly glanced around her, hoping no one had seen the drool that was uncontrollably pooling at the corner of her mouth. 

“Are ya here with friends or...?” 

Joey shot her attention back to Niall as his question hung idly in the air. She licked across her lips. “Actually...I’m here on another first date.” 

“Oh,” Niall said, his brows raising, “uh...how’s it goin’ so far?” 

“Well, he wasn’t late...so that’s a start.” They both chuckled and Joey leaned her hip against the side of the makeshift bar. “Are you here with friends?”

“Yeah,” he said, Niall tipping his chin up as he began to shoot his stare through the crowds of people, “they’re over...there somewhere.” Joey followed the wave of his finger, taking note that he was on the completely opposite side of the stage than her and her date. “It was my turn to get the drinks.” 

Joey slowly brought her gaze back to his. “Enjoyin’ the festival so far?” he then asked her. 

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool!” she replied with a nonchalant shrug of her shoulder, “I like seeing bands that I’ve never heard of before. I was kinda hoping my favorite band would be in the line up but...I never have that kind of luck.” 

“Who’s your favorite band?”

“The Wildflowers?”

“Oh yeah, I’ve heard of them.”

“They’re great, this...indie chick band with fiddles,” Joey added with a chuckle, “I’ve actually never seen them live. They play a lot of those small underground shows that are, like, super hard to get into. Never been lucky enough to get tickets.” 

Niall narrowed his stare and a tiny smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I could get ya tickets.” 

“What?” Joey choked out, her light brown eyes going wide. “Are you serious?”

He threw her a nod. “Yeh, I can get pretty much anythin’ through my label. Ask and you shall receive,” he told her with a giggle. “Why don’t I, um, get your number and see what I can do and hit ya up when I get me hands on some tickets.” 

Joey could barely believe what she was hearing. His words floated around in her head like vivid daydream before Niall covered his mouth in a stifled laugh. She was sure the look on her face was nothing less than embarrassing. But tickets? To the Wildflowers? Her parted lips creased into a huge smile and Joey rubbed her palms down the sides of her face in excitement. “Oh my God, that would be...holy shit, that would be so fucking incredible.”

Niall grabbed his phone from his front pocket and Joey took a step closer to him, both their heads tilted down as he typed her number in. Joey also couldn’t help but take a nice deep inhale, confirming to herself from the last time, that he still smelled damn good. Niall, on the other hand, was rendered numb with how close she was to him. The tiniest whiff of her shampoo tingled his nose as her ponytail slid down between their faces and the barely-there scent radiating off of her exposed dewy skin made his mouth water. It was intoxicating. 

Peeking up at her through the tops of his eyes when he finished, Joey caught his stare for a moment before she realized just how close their proximity was–so close that her chest was nearly touching his bicep–and she quickly took a step back. 

She cleared her throat. “Thank you so much.” 

Slipping his phone back into his pocket just as one of the bartenders set Joey’s drinks in front of her, Niall softly smiled. “ ‘course, love, no worries.” 

“Okay, well,” Joey started, picking up the two plastic cups, “I guess I should get back to my date. Hopefully he doesn’t get too drunk and puke all over me.” 

Niall breathed out a laugh. “That would not be very fun.” 

“Not really, no,” Joey smiled. “It was really good seeing you again, Niall.” 

He faintly nodded his head and licked across his lips. “It was good seeing you too, Joey.” 

Turning away from him, Joey started to walk through the large crowd towards her date, taking one last second to look back over her shoulder at Niall. She caught his gaze, still stuck on her as he shoved his hands down into the front pockets of his striped shorts. Joey smiled big at him, something she couldn’t seem to help when she was around him and he smiled right back, and just as big. 

•

Joey woke up the next morning with a splitting headache, her face plastered against a pillow and in a room that she had never seen before in her life. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, she pushed the mess of hair off the side of her face and slowly began to roll herself over. She then realized she was completely naked, in someone else's bed. A muted groan fell from her lips and she heard a soft ‘hey baby’ come from next to her. 

Turning her head, she was about to reply when she noticed that Omar, her date from the night before, was laying naked next to her, talking on his cellphone. Joey’s brow wrinkled, her mouth falling open as she sat up and bunched the grey sheet up around her bare chest. 

“We still on for tonight, baby?” he continued into the phone, apparently not even aware that Joey had awoken. “Good, good. Missed you last night. Can’t wait to see you.” 

Shaking her head with a look of pure disbelief written across her face, Joey muttered a low ‘oh hell no’ before scrambling out of his bed and grabbing her clothes that were sprinkled all over the floor. She didn’t say a single word to him in the process, hurrying out of his room as she tugged each piece of her clothing on. Shoving her feet down into her boots, she snatched her bag from the couch and ordered herself a Lyft, not even bothering to look back as she quickly left his apartment. 

Joey sat quietly staring out of the backseat window on her ride home, part of her not even sure what happened the previous night, the other part of her not wanting to believe it. The skin on her bottom lip was nearly bitten off, her fingers twisting in her lap and she closed her eyes for a second, hoping it would settle the intense thumping that she was feeling against her temples. After about ten minutes, she pulled out her phone and dialed Alexis, knowing she would be the only other person awake at 9am on a Sunday morning. 

It only rang twice before Alexis answered. “Jo?”

“I fucking slept with him.”

It was quiet for a moment on the other end. “...the guy from last night?”

Joey rested her head back on the seat, her hazelnut eyes watching the palm trees flash by as they drove. “I can’t believe I decided to waste my revirginized vagina on him.” 

A cackling laugh belted out from the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

“On my way home.” 

“How far away?”

Joey lifted her pounding head to peer around as the car slowed to a stop at a light. “Um...I dunno, fifteen minutes, maybe?” 

“Okay, I’ll meet you there.” 

•

Joey was able to get back to her apartment, take a shower and some much needed aspirin, and take Sadie for a walk all before Alexis even showed up. Not unusual for her. Alexis was a great friend, her and Joey had met a couple years prior when Joey got her teaching job at Midlawn Elementary School. She was the first one to strike up a conversation with Joey, and they immediately hit it off. She was fun, a bit loud and spontaneous but was the most caring person Joey had ever known. 

Answering the door, Joey let her best friend in and Sadie went ballistic, hopping up and down and barking nonstop. Alexis attempted to bend down and pet the dog, hoping to calm her, but Sadie skitted away from her touch, barking even louder. 

“Sadie, knock it off!” Joey yelled, having no patience for her antics at the moment. She gently pushed the dog away with the side of her foot and the dog quieted down and scurried into the other room.

“After all these years, your dog still doesn’t like me,” Alexis commented, tossing her purse down on Joey’s table as they both shuffled into the living room. 

Joey laughed. “She doesn’t like anyone, Lex. At all. You’re not special.” 

“Ha, Ha,” her friend retorted with an eye roll, both girls plopping down on the sofa.

“Where’s Lincoln?” Joey asked.

“With his dad.” 

“Oh. I forgot it was his weekend.” 

Tucking her leg up on the couch, Alexis turned her body towards Joey and reached out to tap her knee. “So...c’mon, spill.” 

“There’s nothing to spill,” Joey started, slumping back into the sofa with a huff. “I just...gah, I dunno. I mean, he was cool, I guess. A bit handsy but once I had enough alcohol in my system, I didn’t really mind it. We danced a bit, he made me laugh a little and we just ended up back at his place. But honestly, I’m never doing that again. I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“Well…” Alexis said with a snort, “to put it bluntly, you were thinking you hadn’t gotten laid in two years, Jo.” 

Joey dropped her face in her hands with a groan. “But he was so douchy, Lex. Especially this morning.” She lifted her face and scratched across her forehead. “He was already making plans to see some other chick tonight. While I was lying there in bed next to him!” 

“Ew,” her friend commented, pulling her face in. “was it even good?”

Joey shrugged. “It was alright, I guess. He didn’t get me off but...what’s new.”

“Humph,” Alexis pushed out, crossing her arms over her chest, “yeah, tell me about it. Most men these days can’t. But you were at least careful, right? You don’t wanna end up like me, getting pregnant by a guy you barely know.” 

“Lex, you got a beautiful little boy out of it.”

Alexis rolled her eyes. “I know that, but still...better to be safe than sorry.” She raised her brows at Joey. 

Carding her fingers up through her damp hair, Joey tossed it up into a loose bun and let out a knowing sigh. “Yes, mom, I was careful.” 

Alexis grabbed a throw pillow from behind her and threw it at Joey, hitting her right in the side of her face. The red-haired girl giggled. “Oh..oh my God, I totally forgot to tell you,” Joey exclaimed after chucking the pillow back at her friend. “Guess who I ran into last night at the festival?”

“Who?”

“Niall.”

“Niall?”

Joey furrowed her brows. “Ni-...oh fuck, did I not tell you?” she said, realizing that she had yet to tell anyone that she had met Niall at all. She watched her best friend's brown eyes go big in curiosity and Joey eagerly scraped her teeth across her bottom lip. “Okay, so listen, the other week when I went out with Puke Boy, well, he was, like, super late and I was waiting for him up at the bar, having a drink or whatever, right, and someone said something to me and when I looked over...it was Niall fucking Horan.”

With her mouth falling open, Alexis stared intently at her best friend. “Stop it.” 

“I’m serious,” Joey continued, “we got to talking, he bought me a drink and shit and, I dunno, it was just, like...really chill. He was totally cool. To the point that I almost forgot he was famous. Anyway, he was there last night at the festival too! We ran into each other, oddly enough, getting drinks at the tent bar.” 

“That’s fucking crazy!”

Joey chuckled. “Right? That’s what I told him!”

“So… are you guys gonna hang out or something?” Alexis pried. 

“Well..no,” Joey said with a shake of her head, “I mean, we talked while waiting for our drinks, but he did get my number.” 

Alexis squealed. “No, he didn’t!” 

“He did!” Joey explained. “We were talking about the Wildflowers and I mentioned that I had never seen them live before and he said he could get me tickets and...asked me for my number.” 

“And you just...gave it to him?”

Tossing her head back, the young woman laughed. “Why not? I’m literally going out on blind dates with random guys from Tinder. At least everyone knows who Niall is and he’s not, like, some creep.” 

Alexis chewed at her bottom lip, wanting as much tidbits from her friend as she could get. “‘So are you guys gonna go out then?”

A loud snort came from Joey. “You’re joking, right, Lex? Like he would ever in a million years go out with me. No,” she said, peeking down at her lap and shaking her head, “he was only gonna let me know when he could get some tickets, that’s all.” 

“Sure,” Alexis said with a narrow stare, drawing out the word.

“Believe me, it would be a cold day in hell before Niall Horan ever asked me out on a date,” Joey said with a chuckle, “But I dunno, besides being crazy fucking hot, he was just really chill, you know? Really easy to talk to. I could definitely see us being friends.”

Alexis bowed over in a full belly laugh. “Okay, Jo,” she said between breaths, not for one second believing her best friends intentions, “whatever you say.” 

“I’m serious,” Joey told her, playfully pushing the front of her shoulder, “Besides, there’s no point to even entertain the absurd idea that we would date, ‘cause...I’m literally never having sex again, remember?”

They were both rolled over in laughter at that point, almost in tears when the sound of a text coming through to Joey’s phone dinged loudly through the apartment. Hopping up off the couch, Joey wiped the wetness of laughter from under her eyes and gathered her breath as she stepped over to the kitchen counter to pick up her phone. It was a number she didn’t recognize, but the text itself told her immediately who it was. 

“Well…” she said, holding the phone up towards Alexis as she bit off a smile, “speak of the devil. It’s him.” 

[lucky-bucky-boy]

Captain

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 2670

Warnings: ROUGH sex, choking, a slap, unprotected sex, authority kink, oral (male receiving)

A/N: I kinda feel like this is meh but also like I outdid myself. Let me know what yall think tho

I do not own these characters. Do not repost my writing/fics anywhere without my written permission.

-

Another shot of burning liquid, a chorus of laughter from the girls around you, eyes pinched shut to ground you. Maria had just told the group her most embarrassing memory, one the involved Fury and being caught in an all too suggestive position that you hoped the vodka could wipe the image of.

Sitting your small glass down, Wanda grabbed the bowl of crumpled up papers and shoved it towards you, "(Y/N)!" She called through a series of giggles. "Your turn!"

A playful sigh and roll of your eyes as you plucked a piece of paper out. Opening it up, you pursed your lips, contemplating the prompt in front of you.

"Whatcha get?" Nat pushed, lips wrapping around her beer.

"What is your most unpopular opinion?" Rereading the question over and over again the answer swirled in you. It was simple, easy for you at least. But you knew the girls surrounding you wouldn't agree.

"Come on, it can't be that hard," Nat pushed, "Like, do you secretly love Justin Bieber? Or have an obsession with the Pussycat Dolls?"

A scoff fell from your lips, "No, but you guys are definitely going to give me push back when I tell you." You grumbled, grabbing another bottle of Smirnoff Ice.

"Come on," Wanda pushed more.

"Really, (Y/N/N), it can't be that bad." Maria chimed.

With an exasperated sigh you leaned back in your seat, "Fine, but I swear if any of you give me grief I'm going to bed." A nervous tousle of your hair, "I don't think Steve deserves the title of Captain. You can't just get pumped with a serum and suddenly be called Captain America."

A chorus of "what"s and "you're joking" came from the group of girls.

"No, I'm not."

"You're being serious?" Nat asked, "You genuinely think Steve doesn't deserve it?"

"What don't I deserve?" A voice echoed behind you, sending a shiver you knew all too well down your spine. A curious, almost stern tone in his voice.

A rush of regret flooded through you as you turned to look at the blond. He must've just gotten back from a run, hair slicked back with sweat and tight fitting under armour shirt sticking to every muscle, voice deep as he messed with his beard.

"Tell him, (Y/N)." Wanda's voice came through a series of nervous giggles.

A loud groan as you turned to face Steve who was moving closer to you, towering over your sitting figure. "We needed something to occupy us while we drink so we put a bunch of questions in a bowl and we're going around answering them and I pulled "what is your most unpopular opinion" and shockingly enough my opinion was unpopular and the girls are being dicks now."

Steve chuckled softly at the rambling that fell from your lips. "And I'm assuming that opinion involves me. What is it? The beard?"

A purse of your lips and a small shake of your head. "Nope, not that. I actually really like the beard. Wish you would've grown it out long ago."

A pure look of confusion paired with a small tilt of his head. "What is it then?"

"You don't want to know, Rogers."

"Then why did I ask, (Y/L/N)?"

A chorus of "ooooh"s and giggles from the girls around you instantly had you blushing a dark red. After throwing them a glare, you sighed once more and turned back to Steve. "I said that I don't think you deserved to have been given the title of Captain. You can't just be pumped up with the super soldier serum and just magically be given the title. Like if they gave it to you now, I'd understand that but they gave it to you straight from the bottom."

Steve quirked an eyebrow at you, chewing his bottom lip as he processed what you had just told him. His teammate, one he genuinely respected, someone he'd even called a friend, and one with added benefits some time ago; someone who has followed him into the line of duty nearly blind just said he didn't deserve the title of Captain. "Why don't we talk in private, (Y/N)? We can clear some things up between us. My room. Now."

He left no room for argument as he left you there, shocked and nervous as you turned to the girls who begin laughing. After an annoyed "fuck you guys" thrown their way, you chugged the rest of your drink and made your way to Steve's room.

A soft rap of your knuckles met by a gruff, "Get in here", a quickness to your heartbeat, the adrenaline sending a shockwave to your core when you saw Steve, hand running through his hair as he paced. "What did you want to talk about?"

"Shut and lock the door." He turned to look at you, face devoid of any emotion. The second he heard the door click he stalked towards you. A dark look in his eyes as he trapped you against the door, hands on either side of you.

"Steve?" Your voice came out smaller and weaker than you had anticipated.

"I don't deserve the title Captain?" There was a slight scoff in his voice. A hand came up the grip you chin, tilting your face up, lips just ghosting over yours. "I'm gonna make you regret that."

Before you could retort his lips were against yours in a bruising kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs. It didn't last long, a large hand wrapping around your throat as he pulled away, "If you call me anything other than Captain I will punish you harder than I ever have. Do you understand me, little girl?"

A squeak fell from your lips as you attempted to nod, but that wasn't good enough for Steve. The hand around your throat let go and lightly slapped your cheek. "Speak when you're spoken to, bitch," he growled.

"Yes, Captain," you whined.

"Good girl. Seems like you do know how to take orders from your superior." A devilish smirk danced across his lips before kicking your feet out from underneath you, watching you drop to your knees.

"Take my cock out and suck it like the little slut you are." His voice boomed with the command as he watched you do as you were told.

Pulling his pants and briefs down just enough for his thick length to bob out, you were quick with your movements, not wanting to piss him off any more. Precum glistened on his bulbous tip, practically begging to be licked away. And you wasted no time, suckling the tip of his cock before taking down as much as you could.

Steve didn't let you stay in control long. Grabbing a fistful of your hair he begin to move your mouth up and down his length, growling particularly loud when your throat spazzed around his cock as you gagged on his girth. He waited until your mascara ran down your cheeks from the tears streaming down your face to pull off.

"Do you have anything to say for yourself, little girl?"

A wicked smile graced your lips. "That really all you got Stevie? Must've lost your touch after I stopped letting you fuck me whenever you wanted."

A scoff fell from his lips, hands tangling in your hair and pulling a wince from you as he practically dragged you to the bed. A rough shove and you landed on the plush mattress you'd been on multiple times before, the softness a welcome contrast to the man before you. Before you could scramble to look at him, Steve manhandled you onto your knees and landed a sharp smack to your ass.

The moan that ripped from you made Steve chuckle darkly. "Let's not forget who would beg me to fuck them, little girl. Who would tell me how much the loved my fat cock splitting them in two." Another smack to your ass  "Or have you become too far stuck up your own ass that you forgot who really knows how to take care of you?" Another, harder smack. "Speak when you're spoken to."

You managed to choke out, "I haven't forgotten, Captain," around your whines and whimpers.

Steve pulled away from you, "Strip. Then hands and knees. If you're not ready by the time I come back I swear to God you will regret it." His voice was commanding and left no room for argument, not that you would at this point, too far consumed in your own desire to risk a release.

As he disappeared into his walk-in closet you made haste on discarding your clothes, being sure they made it into his hamper as well as not to piss him off more. You couldn't deny it though, you missed this, missed him. But that was something to address later as an ache of need shot through your core.

You positioned yourself in the middle of his bed, on your knees and leaning your weight on your forearms to arch your back. The sound of his closet closing made a wave of anticipation run through you, the urge to close your thighs overpowering.

"Look at you," his voice was condescending and dripped with a tease, "So fucking wet. Such a little bitch that I haven't even had to touch you and you're already soaking my sheets. Dirty little girl," the bed dipped behind you, "what should I do to you? I don't think you've quite learned your lesson."

A whimper left your lips as you tried to find an answer. "I think I deserve to be spanked, Captain."

You could practically hear the smirk on his lips. "You do? Good girl, maybe I'll actually let you cum. How many do you think you deserve?"

"10?" Your voice was questioning, hoping he'd let you off easily. Steve didn't like being embarrassed, didn't like having his authority questioned.

"I was going to say 20, but since you're deciding you want to be a good girl, I'll be nice and do 15. But I won't hesitate to give you more if you act up again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Captain."

"Be a good girl and count." A firm hand came down hard on your ass, easily leaving a handprint and turned your skin bright red.

"One," you choked out.

Steve continued, turning your ass and thighs a pretty shade that screamed bad girl. You felt the scraping of his beard as he left kisses across the sensitive skin. "Fuck, such a good girl for me. Why can't you be this good when I'm not around?" A kiss turned into a bite, a strangled sound pulling from you.

"Please," you pleaded.

"Please what, little girl?" He asked, sitting up and threading a hand through your hair, tugging you so your back became flush with his bare chest. His cock was pressed between your ass and his abdomen, precum sticking both of you. "What could you possibly be asking for?" He teased.

"Please fuck me. Please make me cum. I'm sorry, Steve - Captain, I'm sorry. I was just upset that you had stopped giving me attention," the confession slipped out without you even realizing.

"What was that?" He snickered softly.

"I was just being a petty little bitch because you stopped messing around with me to go on a date." You whined, face flushing.

"So you're jealous?" His breath ghosted over the shell of your ear. "Baby girl, all you had to do was tell me how much you missed me."

"I missed you so much, Captain, please. I feel like I'm going insane."

"That's the point."

Steve's hand moved from your hair to your chest, massaging the plush flesh, thick calloused fingers swiping over your nipples and sending shockwaves to your core.

"Remember that time I made you cum just from this? Just from playing with your pretty little tits?" That drip in his voice never left. "God, remember the sound of your pretty little whimpers pleas is enough to get me off."

The shiver that went down your spine didn't go unnoticed. "But, that's not what I'm using you for tonight. You were a bad girl, you're lucky I didn't spank you more. So, I'm gonna use that tight little pussy to get myself off. And I don't fucking care if you cum or not," with a forceful push your face was buried in the mattress.

His large hands massaged your ass, spreading your cheeks. "Such a pretty sight. I'm half tempted to fuck that little ass of yours instead." He chuckled at the whimper that left you, watching as you wiggled your ass. "You wouldn't even care. That's how badly you want me to fuck you. Pathetic."

Seemingly having grown impatient with himself, Steve lined himself up with your core after swiping the tip through your soaked folds to make it easier. He gripped your hips in a way you knew you were gonna be bruised tomorrow and slammed in, forcing all the air out of your lungs with the force of his thrust.

He set a brutal pace, slapping your ass when he pleased, moaning and groaning out obscenities. "Pretty little cunt squeezing me so perfectly." "No man will ever be able to please you like I do." "You're just my little cockslut and you fucking love it." It was true. All of it, and you knew it. Steve brought out the best in you, sent you to the highest havens, made you want to do things no one else ever had.

A vice grip as your walls spasmed around his intruding member signaled you were close. It was amazing how he could get you there without even touching your clit. The white hot euphoria begin to build stronger and stronger in you, a perfectly angled thrust that felt like it hit your cervix ultimately being your demise as the dam broke and pleasure wiped over you.

A scream that died off into a strangled moan as he continued to thrust, chasing his own end with erratic movements. "Captain please, cum in me," you whined, pushing your ass back to meet his hips.

"Fucking hell," he groaned, finally spilling everything he had into you. A few more thrust to ride out his high before he pulled out, watching the mix of both of your cums dripping out of you.

"So pretty. Stay there, baby girl, let me clean you up."

Steve disappeared from behind you and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. He returned from his bathroom a moment later with a warm washcloth. "You might be a little sore, sugar, just breath m'kay?"

You nodded in response and relinquished in the feeling of Steve wiping you down. His touch disappeared and he appeared in front of you now, wearing a pair of pajama pants and holding a pair of his boxers and a t shirt. "Here’s some clothes, get dressed and let's cuddle."

He watched as you sat up and took them, slipping the shirt over yourself and tossing the boxers to the side, earning a light hearted chuckle from him. The softness on his face quickly changed to worry as he knelt down on the bed in front of you, cupping your face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" He asked.

A sleepy smile was all you could muster. "No you didn't. But I did miss you a lot, Captain." You're voice had a tease in it and Steve couldn't help but shake his head and laugh.

Pulling the covers out from beneath you two, he repositioned the both of you, pulling you into his side and letting silence consume you for a few minutes while the lustful moments sizzled out and changed to that of an intimate one.

"I feel like we have a lot to talk about," he finally spoke up.

A huff of an attempt to laugh fell from your lips, "Yeah, we do. But not right now. Tomorrow, I wanna savor this."

Tags: (I tagged everyone who liked and reblog if it allowed me to) @taylortheyellowlobster @superlulumac-blog @the-musical-junkie @cecey-child @buckyssoul @nomadmilk @dewy-biitch @holylangdon @cosmic-cause @trappedinthisfabulousshow @ohbabycal @nobody916 @this-aint-a-scene-its-maggie @flowersnbeer @thesleepy1 @selenafawks @capsiclesdoll @primordialhandmaidan @liffydaze @joonmail @kirmt15 @heavxn666 @steeeeverogers @yokaimoon @alohagigikai @ohlalalina @cloudywriter @jimintishy @c-d-h13 @imafangirlofeverything @missnighttigress @elizabeth-marie-moon @melissamaine @fanfictionrecommendations-com @rosywaifu @benegrido @panemedited @rowann003 @ladyoathkeeper @thatweirdchick147 @herglowingwayz @wwhitewwolff @imxxtrisha2 @dead-butonly-ironically @spreaded-butter @cake-reads @l0st-inmy-0wn-th0ughts​ @cassidyjocross​ @ashwarren32​ @quitepointless​ @seesaw-it​ @vapingisntmything​ @romaniandumbass​ @thefandomallrounder​ @glass-hummingbird​ @effmigentlywithachainsaw​ @accesspasswordrustyisacowboy​ @deviltownn​ @kitten051989​ @navispalace​ @godlymissbalor​ @gracefulvaudeville​ @johnnynunzio​ (aka this is the one who inspires me to write)

[pinencurls]

Feels Like Home

Hiii this is another one shot I had in my drafts for awhile, hope u enjoy!! 

A trip to visit Bestfriend!Harry pulls up feelings from the past.

To find places that feel like home when you're so far away from your own is always a blessing. I often find myself cooped up in train carriages for long empty hours travelling up and down the country - sometimes to nearby neighbouring countries too, with only a book and the view for company. Work in the photography and journalism industry can take you pretty much anywhere, photoshoots and research pieces usually mean I have to travel frequently. I've probably spent more weekends in hotels the past few years than I have in my small London flat, its lavender walls presenting more as a storage place these days and occasional safe haven for when I return.

Most of it is manageable - and exciting, really really exciting. A few times a year a piece will land me in the States and away from my bubble of European arts and culture. The company I work for has a New York branch outside of the London one, so in the times that I find myself flying miles away from home, I'm lucky enough to be welcomed by one of my oldest friends' open arms - and his guest room.

Harry works a lot too, splitting time between London and New York, but on this trip - as always, he's sworn an evening out of his day to pick me up from the airport. I don't get to see much of him anymore, we grew up spending every summer in each other's houses, our parents' old friends from university, but he moved away three years before me and never came back, at least not in the same way that allowed youthful abandon to drive us into the woods to build forts and swim in the river, or make us forget how old we were and fall asleep on his mum's old sofa watching questionable rom coms. I'd happily slip back into our shared holiday practises - every time I visit him there's a shadow of nostalgia when he brings two teas and a joint out to the living room, the same smirk clear on his now slightly unshaven face.

I try to focus on that moment, only a few hours away now. We'll spend tonight and tomorrow together before he can't miss any more studio sessions and I have to report to the office and start my week of work - an article on the rise of youth activists in underprivileged areas of the city. It's a heavy topic but something I've been interested in for a while - I love the music and cultural subjects I've written on before but I've wanted to branch out into a more political field for awhile now. Sandy, my editor, assigned me this a few days ago, a smirk on her face when she nonchalantly delivered it to my desk Monday morning.

. ... . .

My arms are folded up against my chest at an unnatural angle - I've spent the last hour like this in an attempt not to elbow the snoring banker to my left who is, undoubtedly, taking up more than his fair share of the three-seat row. I can't see much good coming from waking him to point this fact out so I stay settled in my awkward position. An eight-hour flight in the middle seat was never going to be comfortable anyway.

My morning had been typically rushed, I missed breakfast in favour of catching my flight before it left without me and found myself bustling through the crowds of families, business people and tourists that fill the airport as soon as I leapt out of the taxi. I didn't have to check any luggage in so sped through security straight to the gate being called overhead. I swear I've got to stop booking early flights if I'm never going to wake up in time to get a croissant from Pret en route.

I turn my focus to the phone in my hands and slip my headphones over my ears. There's only an hour left until we land, seeing no point in starting an inflight movie now, I open my "calm times" playlist and close my eyes. Soon I'll be sleeping on an unnecessarily expensive mattress bigger than this whole row.

. ... . .

"Excuse me, M'am?" The chipper voice of a flight attendant wakes me up, slightly muffled under the Adrienne Lenker song that continues to play through my headphones. The seat to my right, previously filled by a woman a few years older than me, is empty. On my other side, the suit-wearing man spreader is starting to stir. "We'll be landing shortly, please secure your seatbelts and pack away any loose items."

I stumble over a quick 'Thanks' as she leans out of our row and moves on to the next, her perfect customer service smile ready again. The missing woman makes her way down the aisle towards us and takes her seat, she seems hurried and agitated. Out the corner of my eye, I watch as she wrings her hands a few times, sighing heavily and leaning back in her seat. A nervous flyer. I lean over and pull my bag up from the small slot under the seat ahead and slide the book I'd taken out hours before, not having read a page of, back on top of my sweater and the wine gums I'd bought as a makeshift breakfast in my final flurry before boarding.

Overhead, the usual pre-landing announcements chime as people clip in their seatbelts and slip superstitious remedies between their lips. Suited man spreader has chosen a particularly eye-watering peppermint gum to finish our flight off with.

Closing my eyes I focus on the quiet music, too distant to take me out of my body as it's interrupted by the chatter of excited travellers and constant beeps around me. I don't hate flying, but I have developed a favoured fondness of trains. I've seen the ins and out of so many towns and mindlessly people watched for hours, always having the option to hop off at the next station and stretch my legs if any part of the journey is particularly unbearable or a city is too enticing to leave unexplored.

I fiddle with the two buttons along the side of my phone for a second, raising the volume a little and willing my thoughts away from the swooping plane as the familiar wary feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. Maybe I'm a nervous flyer too. But, with a clunk and a slight wobble, we're back on the ground. I keep my eyes shut a little longer, knowing the gridlock of impatient passengers to come is unavoidable. The orange light above me dims and I release the seat belt that had been cutting tightly into my shoulder. The woman beside me is noticeably calmer and we share a giddy - we're strangers but we're smiling at each other - look for a second.

I call Harry when I'm through baggage claim, having packed only a rucksack and a small duffel - both fitting as hand luggage, I head straight through customs where the queues are just starting to build up. I beeline to a near-empty desk on the far right as the dial tone rings against my ear for the third time-

"Hello!" Harry greets down the phone, his voice sounds far away, most likely using the speakers in his car whilst he parks - "M' just parking, love."

"I just got to customs, I'll be ten minutes - meet you outside yeah?"

"I was gonna come in, I'll only be a second." He always pushes to meet me before I make it out the airport, obsessed over the classic reunion scene from all his favourite rom coms. It was well-intended and actually really sweet but it wasn't worth the risk of new rumours being spread across the gossip sites if photos got out of Harry Styles meeting a 'mystery girl' at the airport, as I'd previously been labelled the few times shots of us out dancing in the city or talking over lunch in L.A had gotten out. Harry's protective over his private life and I prefer to keep out of his public one.

"I'm almost through customs...I'll literally be one minute Harry, just wait in the car - wait a sec..." I hold the phone up against my shoulder when I'm beckoned towards the free customs desk, smiling politely and sliding my passport towards the teller. I reply 'work' to her question and thank her when she pushes it back to me, freshly stamped with red ink. "-Okay I'm out, are you by the taxi bit again - you know you're not actually allowed to park there?"

"Actually I'm just...oh god you really are blind aren't you?" He laughs down the line, I look up, confused and only halfway across the long white room towards the exit. Even amongst the crowds, there's an unmistakable figure waving from the benches to the side, phone in hand. "Hey."

I laugh and hang up, slinging my duffel over my shoulder and making my way over to where Harry is now standing, an infamous grin etched across his face. Before I can complain about just how close I am to the car park already, he leans down and engulfs me in a hug.

"Been a while, hmm?" Out of instinct, my arms wrap around him and hold tight. He's right, it's been almost five months since we last saw each other in person. I was away the last few times he came home to London and he's always jetted back to L.A for important meetings by the time I'm on my way back. "Missed you, lovie."

Pulling away to get a better look at him, I rest my hands on his shoulders, his hair's a little longer, and he looks tired but cheery - as usual.

"I missed you too." There's that weird hesitant few second feeling when neither of us breaks eye contact and for a moment it suddenly feels surreal to have each other as real people you can touch and hold.

"Now help me with this bag - the flight fucking murdered my back."

He misses a beat and my duffel hits his leg abruptly, he grunts and grumbles for a second before picking it up and draping his free hand over my shoulder, turning us to face the exit. I forget for a moment that the group of very unsubtle girls on the other side of the room will fuel the newest dating rumour by the morning with photos of Harry pulling my against his side and holding my hand casually - like every few days out of the year we get to spend in each other company, it feels like we're fifteen again and blur into the background, too caught up in our own conversations to notice anybody else.

"Come on - I reckon someone's already pissed that I'm parked in the taxi rank."

... . .

It's late in my jetlagged brain, but not late enough in the city to miss the last bit of rush hour traffic. Harry taps his ringed fingers against the steering wheel to the beat of Peter Gabriels 'Sledgehammer.' I've pulled my knees up to my chest and slouched against the passenger door staring up at the busy lights and cloudy sky. My eyelids dip momentarily, the blurred scenery lulling me out of focus.

"Don't fall asleep on me, I've got a nice dinner planned yet." Harry protests, squeezing my hand in his, eyes on the road as he lifts and moves our now intertwined hands in the air, swaying along to the final chorus playing through his iPhone."C'mon, a little bit of Peter Gabriel should wake you up."

"I hate Peter Gabriel," I mumble and pull my hand from his, poking his cheek when he lets out an exaggerated gasp. I can't help but laugh at his appalled expression, too distracted to object when he pulls my hand back into his and continues his fun as the speakers click and a new song comes on.

Our faces glow yellow against the street lights. My legs ache and my head feels heavy - I tilt it back against the window and watch as Harry sings along to an old Scott Mckenzie song. He's let our hands fall against my seat now, focusing on the busy roads as he turns closer to his apartment. I notice now, for the first time, his subtle disguise; the grey hoodie and dark shades pushed back in his hair. He looks...soft. He laughs when he slips off-key and shoots me a glance, smiling again when he takes in my half-asleep state. He squeezes my hand, his rings are cold and clunky and wake me up a little. I peer out at the road ahead - Harry lives fairly near the airport so we must be getting close, the cafes start to look familiar and I figure we're only a few minutes from home, and sleep.

I wake again at the jolt of the car stopping and the consistent white noise of the engine cutting off when Harry's keys clatter against each other. His door opens and shuts - I think I'm awake?

I must have shifted slightly in my sleep because when the passenger door swings open I stay upright against the seat. I look up to see Harry's hand stretched out towards me.

"C'mon, missing my luxury homemade dinner s'gonna be a lot more comfortable in a real bed" He teases, his smile yet to leave since I first saw him twenty minutes ago sat on that bench - sticking out despite his 'disguise'

I take his hand and tumble slightly haphazardly to stand, looking up briefly to see Harry with both my bags over one shoulder, lifting his free arm to wrap around me. We start towards his building, moving easily through the lobby and into the elevator. I look up again from where my head's resting on his shoulder, surrounded by his hoodie. Yeah, he looks...soft.

When we get inside I head straight to the guest room, nudged forwards by Harry's instructions for me to get some rest before he starts dinner - I've stayed in Harry's apartment enough times to know my way around fairly well, the guest room, where I always stay, is down the hall on the left. The bed is made and there's a fluffy white robe folded on the nightstand. Already head to toe in comfy travel wear, I clamber under the duvet and breathe in the freshly washed sheets - washing detergent with a hint of Harry's vanilla aftershave. My eyes are heavy and my thoughts wander a little. It feels like home.

... . .

When I open my eyes, it's to a darker room. Harry must have come in and closed the curtains while I was asleep, my bags have been leant up against the dresser too. I sit up and look around the room, rubbing my knuckles against my eyelids, still groggy from sleep, but hungry now, the lack of a real breakfast and unsatisfying plane food catching up to me. The alarm on the bedside table reads nine pm, I'd been asleep for almost an hour - I change out of my well-worn flight clothes and into a sweater and soft grey jogging bottoms Harry had left at my London flat last time he stayed over, although it'd been long enough ago they might as well be mine by now.

The kitchen sounds get louder as I make my way out of the guest room and down the hall, yawning into the crook of my elbow amidst pulling a soft yellow scrunchie off my wrist and taming my hair into a lazy, loose ponytail. Harry's occasional grumbles and soft singing fill my ears when I reach the end of the hall and get the full sight of him, in just a t-shirt and jeans now, leaning over a pan of spaghetti trying to twist a strand onto the fork in his hand before dangling in into his mouth with a light hum.

"How's it going, chef?" He turns to see me, eyes wide as he fingers the end of the pasta into his mouth and smirks down at me.

"S'good, was just about to come get you," He turns momentarily to fiddle with what looks like courgette and red pepper frying in a pan behind the spaghetti before looking back at me and motioning for me to bring him the plates he'd left stacked on the counter.

He mixes the courgette, pepper and a fresh-looking tomato sauce into the main pot and stirs it all together before filling my plate up and handing it back to me - all while looking incredibly pleased with himself. He nods over to the table and I set my plate down, taking two wine glasses from beside him and filling them with the wine he's just opened. After double-checking the stove's been turned off safely and our glasses are full, Harry takes the seat in front of me.

"So-" He starts, smiling up at me over the gorgeous dinner set in front of us. "How're you?"

A burst of laughter escapes my lips at the situation, We hadn't been in the same room for months and within the first hour of reuniting I'd fallen asleep, now we were sat down to dinner, ready to discuss our day like old times.

"I'm good, sorry I fell asleep before we could talk," He chuckles before taking a sip of wine, we hear about each other's lives at least once a week - usually phone calls when our jet lag causes our time zones to match up, and always texts throughout the week - this kind of small talk seems silly when I'd spoken to him just this morning before my flight. "How's your mum and Gem?"

"They're well, haven't seen Mum in a little while, every time I call she always seems more interested in you," He replies between bites of spaghetti, "Apparently you're quite the enigma these days."

"Wha-How!" Anne was like a sister to my mum so our families were always close growing up, she often acted just as motherly to me and my sister as she did her own children.

"You don't call anymore." Harry smirks, recalling a frequently used quote from Anne herself.

"That's such I lie - I saw her a few weeks ago when she came down to see Gem and I always call, it's hard you know, I have my own parents to keep track of too."

Harry laughs at this, pleased to have his mothers attention shifted from his own absence for once.

"I'm not sure, apparently she's been gossiping with your mum and you're never home anymore." He must not notice the irony of his words because he's hosting the smuggest expression, staring back at me over his glass.

"Hey - you disappeared first, I'm allowed to have my turn." I fire back, shaking my head jokily.

Harry doesn't seem to catch my light tone though, or he's not keen on my choice of words. He turns rigid opposite me and stares back, agitation brimming in his gaze.

"What's that mean?" He's not bubbly and blushing anymore, sober now with a steady assertive tone as he questions me.

"Come on Harry, m' just joking, relax," He doesn't. "You moved away years before me and never came back, it's not exactly a secret, I didn't mean anything by it."

His fork clatters when it lands on his plate. He puffs out a heavy breath of air before speaking up again, making no effort to hide is disdain this time.

"Fuck off, I came back." I look up to watch him, he hardly curses outside of mild frustration or a lighthearted voice, this is different. "That's not fair and you know it."

"I'm not blaming you Harry I was just making a joke - forget it." The remaining food on my plate is an unsuccessful distraction, nothing's enough to stop Harry when he starts.

"No, you always do this. I didn't disappear, I was working for five years and then I continued to work after that, I came home as much as I could so don't pretend I was all aloof or something." I'm used to holding his gaze through an argument, and this is an argument we've had before - "It was my job to travel for months at a time, you can't blame me for not being around every time we see each other like I just ran off and never called."

"So it's not work for me then?" I shoot back, instantly angry that he finds it so easy to offload all the blame onto me when he's the one who made a meaningless comment into a fight in the first place. "And it fucking felt like that."

Harry's quiet. I finish the last of my wine and pour a second glass.

"I came back."

"Not properly." I put my glass down and massage my fingertips over my temple, this isn't the time to unpack childhood grudges. "I'm only here for a week, can we not fight...please?"

Neither of us speaks for a few moments, my words linger in the air. We never have much longer than a few weeks together before one of us is off again, there's never going to be time to confront that stuff. The transition between only having Harry a few hours away, treating his home like mine on the weekends me and my sister, Ellie, would visit him and Gem and moaning our way through hellish GCSEs together (he was a year ahead so always had a little more to complain about) to him travelling the world and everyone knowing his name was almost nonexistent. It all happened so abruptly, Harry went to London for a few days to film his follow up audition and never came back. I didn't see him until the Christmas of that year, by which time he'd already moved into a place in London and experienced so much that it was hard to act like anything would ever be the same again.

"What did I do wrong, just tell me and I'll fix it, please," Harry begs, earnest as he finally speaks up.

"I don't blame you for anything Harry, I didn't mean it like that..."I sigh, wringing my hands out as nervously as the women beside me hours before on the plane. "Let's just have dinner, yeah? It's really nice Har."

We finish our food with a little more small talk, he asks how Ellie's doing even though he already knows from Gemma's updates that's he engaged now and thinking about moving to London, I ask after a few of his bandmates I met last time I was in L.A. Things are too quiet when we lay down on his sofa to watch the notebook for the 20th time. Neither of us recites the lines we know off by heart and always mock - the air hangs heavy with the lingering anxiety of an argument we're never going to settle, we sit apart stiffly and far too composed for film nights we've shared since we were kids before heading our separate ways to bed.

... . .

Work goes well, the young people I talk to pretty much write the article for me with how much insight they offer up. There are so many parts to the topic that deserve to be covered well that my workdays and evenings at Harry's blur together and soon I've emailing my final draft to Sandy for notes and packing for the airport.

Neither Harry or I have brought the first nights argument up and it looks like it'll be brushed under the rug before I leave tonight. There's been a definite cloud over the last week - I think a more before I speak and Harry's eyes linger on me a little longer when I do.

He stills seems frustrated by our fight, I can't blame him, I am too. He's sat on the sofa with a guitar in his lap, going unplayed as his eyes trail after my last-minute rush around the apartment to gather together all my possessions that had found themselves seeping out into his home over the past week. He watches closely, contemplating whether to speak or just let me go like nothing happened.

"Have you seen my sweater?" I call from the guest room, the wardrobe's empty and my bags are laying on the coffee table in front of Harry - my sweater missing from both.

"The one you brought with you?"

He appears in the doorway, leaning against the frame of the door and peering down at where I'm kneeling before the bed, searching through the very empty and sweaterless dresser, humming a response back at him.

"Yeah, that'd be mine." I snap my head back to look at him, he must be joking.

"Um no, it's mine," He smirks, eyes still sad but fainter now in the looseness of the moment. "I've had it for years, I bought it in Amsterdam in that little thrift store by the cafe with the really good bagels."

"No," He chastises. "I bought it in Amsterdam in that little thrift shop by the cafe with the really good bagels, and you took it home when you left."

He's definitely wrong. Sure I might not remember all of the trip I took to Amsterdam to visit him on tour, but I remember the hours we spent traipsing through thrift store on his day off munching on really good bagels.

"Wrong - please return it now, kindly." I stand and hold out my palm to him.

"No can do," He grins, nudges my hand away from him to fall limply by my side.

"Harry, come on!" I whine, letting my maturity slip slightly as my patience lessens. "I'm already running late, I've gotta finish packing and I can't miss my flight."

"Why not?" He challenges, smiling still but paired with a serious tone now.

"Because, I'm not about to swim back to London."

"No, why can't you stay?" My hand wavers slightly at my side, I'm not sure if he's joking or I can hear sincerity in his voice - it reminds me too much of his solemn begging from Saturday night. "Just stay, a little longer."

He's asked me to before in the past. He isn't afraid to try and steal another day off of me to tag along to an artist friend of his' show the next night or just to get dinner at a restaurant I 'couldn't miss'. On occasion, I've given in to his pestering and rearranged a flight for a few days later. I could, I could. I'd just handed in my work for the week and it was only Friday morning, I won't be needed again until Monday. Flight's would be ridiculously expensive to change this late though, and this 'stay a little longer' felt less for the sake of good food and his favourite spin class and more of a, we need to talk - 'stay a little longer.'

"I can't," I reply simply, closing off the conversation by brushing past him into the hall towards his own room in search of my stolen sweater.

"I'll pay for your flight back." Harrys voice trails after me. "You've worked hard all week, you can afford to take the weekend off."

"I cant." I brush off again, avoiding his gaze as I scan over the room in front of me, heading to his tall chest of draws first and pulling open the one I know is filled with jumpers.

"I want to talk," Harry says softly. He lifts one arm from where he has them crossed over his chest and motions to the chair in the far corner, I investigate and sure enough, my sweater is tucked under a small pile of t-shirts. "Love, you can't ignore me."

"M' not, we're talking aren't we?" I'm just hovering in the middle of the room now, sweater in hand but Harry's tall figure blocks my way out adamantly.

"You know what I mean,"

"Harry, I can't-"

"I'm not letting you leave like this again." He takes a few steps across the room as he talks, "You said we couldn't fight cos you're only here a week, so stay a little longer."

"I don't want to fight." I shake my head, pulling my hand away when he reaches out for it.

"Then we'll just talk."

He's got that determined, soulful look about him. He reaches for my hand again and I let him, he brushes his fingertips over my knuckles lightly. His other hand comes up to my face and guides my head to look at him, still peering down at me expectantly.

Harry and I have always been open with one another. There was never enough time to tiptoe around what was bothering us when he was only home for a few weeks before work or another tour called again. Our parents always joke that we were twins separated at birth, the way we used to huddle in the garden as little kids and whisper to each other. He's my best friend, no matter how far apart we are he never hesitates to talk through his troubles with me, sure there are times we drift with our schedules, but there's too much pulling us back together for it to last long.

"I can't," It's a whisper, but he's close enough to hear it. I pull my hand from his and turn my head to the side. Inhaling, it's far too shakey to hide my nerves and before I can control it there are tears stinging my eyes.

"Love-" Harry coos, fighting my own hand to clear the tears from my cheeks.

"-I can't, Harry I," I say again, the lump in my throat making my words sound choked. He's looking down at me with that sad soft expression again and I can't piece together how we got here. "I can't."

He pulls me into his chest. His arms rest around my shoulders and he presses his face into my neck. He mumbling something but I can't make it out anymore, everything's warm and teary and slightly distorted by heavy breaths.

"We've gotta talk....we've gotta talk," He gets louder, "Love?"

I pull back to see his face. There's a red blush over his nose and cheeks and his eyelashes shine where they're wet. I push back, creating some space between us and clearing my throat.

"I didn't mean anything, we don't have to-I shouldn't have said what I did, I'm not angry, and I have no right to be so can we just, can we please just forget it?"

He shakes his head lightly, rubbing his hands against the back of his neck and standing straighter, feeling taller and intimidating.

"It's more than that, you know," He's swallowed the wobble in his voice, continuing to talk clearly now. "It's not about that, we've needed to talk for awhile - I don't want to leave it for weeks and weeks again, I can't keep pretending like nothing's going on."

"I've got a flight to catch Harry I really can't do this." I insist, walking around him and through the clear doorway, although his footsteps chase closely behind.

"Miss the flight!" Harry shouts as we make it to the living room and I start packing away the last few things on the coffee table. "I'll get you a ticket for Sunday night, just stay."

My throat burns when I push down another round of tears and furiously shove books down the side of my bag. Harry hovers to my side, fiddling with his rings and bouncing his knee back and forth.

"I love you."

I have a flight to catch. I have a flight to catch.

"Don't say it like that- I love you, of course, I love you too" I sigh, slowing down and turning to face him. "...my car's going to be here in fifteen minutes."

"No, I love you."

I have a flight to catch. I have a flight to catch.

"I have a flight to catch."

... . .

I feel shittier on the plane. I've got the window seat this time though so at least I can mope in peace. Not much more had been said after that, my car came, I thanked Harry for having me and our hug lasted longer than usual, again.

Maybe I should have stayed. Maybe I should have talked about the feelings that he'd noticed too before I left, or better yet, the first night I arrived. I'd spent hours stuck in an unproductive thought spiral on the subject over the years, we've had moments in the past, Christmas eves when we're the last ones up and the space between us dwindles down the further we get in our confessions or catching each other in a particularly domestic act in one our homes when it feels like it all just comes naturally and why isn't it like this with any of the guys I've dated?

It doesn't go unnoticed by us that we acted like a couple more often than we did close friends. Gemma and Ellie have confronted me, and most likely Harry too, together and separately for answers on several occasions. I always say the same thing - "We're just friends, we've always been close."

This time's different though. Harry's never brought the subject up outside of the jokes comparing us to his friends in relationships, he's always been in relationships and there's no chance of me broaching the issue of any potential romantic feelings I may or may not have for him while he's seeing somebody, even when he wasn't, it's not worth the risk of it all blowing up in my face and having to spend infinite Christmases in awkward humiliation.

I'd played with the idea of us as a couple, allowed myself to daydream about what it could be like for a few moments before reminding myself how low the possibility of Harry ever feeling the same is. Even if he did, the long-distance friendship we have now would never survive as a relationship - you can't go months without the person you're trying to build a life with.

But, maybe I should have stayed.

Maybe, when he told me he loved me, I should have been braver. In the one moment, it all finally felt clear and possible, and like I wasn't completely delusional and hopeless, I should have told him I love him too.

Either way, I have eight long, back aching hours ahead of me to decide.

[bubmyg]

anniversary (crying version) - jjk

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre/warnings: youtuber!au, fluff, the world’s most sickening couple is back except it’s on their anniversary, idk if i’ve ever mentioned this but ot7 are all youtubers in this universe (except for namjoon, he’s just seokjin’s roommate but that’s not important right now jfaksld)

word count: 1,529

summary: you want to surprise jeongguk for your three year anniversary or you give jimin the password to jeongguk’s youtube account (not clickbait)

a/n: yes this is shamelessly inspired by the festa euphoria piano version video and yes, you should listen to it while you read this

“Hey, did you grab your phone after you paid?”

There was a split second moment of panic in the round of Jeongguk’s eyes, puffing out like a frog where the suction of his lips were still attached to the wide straw of his boba. He stalled, mid stride, free hand smacking the pocket of his jeans. When his palm collided with the hard surface tucked securely in tight denim, he relaxed but frowned at you. An adorable pout, cheeks filling with air, nostrils flaring, lips reluctantly pulling away from his tea to scrunch at you.

“Why would you scare me like that?” Jeongguk whined.

You patted his stomach, “Just making sure. Wouldn’t want to lose that.”

He took your hand, pinning your fingers with the thread of his before he said, “Why? All your good nudes are on my camera—”

You smacked him with your free hand anyway, cheeks warming aside from the midday sun encompassing the park sidewalks, and you quipped, “What’s the return policy on boyfriends? It’s been three years now, can I still get at least a small refund?”

“Hey,” Jeongguk turned the attention of his pout to you just to see you falter because he knew you would, “You can’t be mean to me on our anniversary.”

“I’m not mean to you anyway.”

“I know you’re not,” He nearly toppled over you to peck your cheek. “You’re the bestest, most beautiful—”

“Okay, calm down lover boy,” You used the disadvantaged lean of his stature to direct him to your pleasing, “Let’s sit down over here for a second.”

You checked your watch once Jeongguk had settled enough to become preoccupied with swirling his straw around the tiny balls at the bottom of his drink, heart lodging in your throat as you watched the hands click over.

“Hey,” You nudged him by leaning into him, cheek against the inside of his bicep to peer up at him, “Check your phone for me.”

“What’s the obsession with my phone?” He continued to jam the straw into the black substance, swirling them against the transparent plastic, “...did you send me something that’s meant for my eyes only or—”

“What’s your obsession with seeing me naked?”

“You know the answer to that question.”

“Jeongguk,” He giggled when you snatched his drink out of his grasp, settling it onto the pebble coated concrete below your feet, “Check your phone.”

He sighed, arching to fish the device from his pocket before leaning forward, elbows on his thighs, as you attached yourself to his arm. You watched the side of his face instead of the screen as his thumb hesitated, hovering over a dimmed notification.

“My upload was successful?” Dark eyebrows scrunched and his chin tilted just a fraction, “What upload? I didn’t schedule anything—”

You nosed into the sleeve of Jeongguk’s shirt, silent as he surfed to his account, him equally as silent as he tapped on the “successful upload”, a blurry thumbnail preselected by the platform because that wasn’t the focus of the video anyway.

A fade of black into the first shot was all you watched before you pressed your features fully into his arm, holding onto the apex of his elbow a bit tighter as your own voice, distorted audio from the phone speakers but your voice nonetheless, floated to your ears.

“Hey baby…” It was a clip you’d taken that night, morning in theory but too soon after the clock had clicked past midnight to truly be considered morning. His head on your chest, lips parted and drooling against your sleep shirt, your free hand in the fluff of his shower fresh hair while the other tried to maintain a semi decent angle without waking him, “Happy anniversary.”

The song that began to play was one of his, self produced solely for the purpose of his intro and outro but the wordlessly melody extended into something beautiful, something to slap over any and all vlogs he made dedicated to you. One he serenaded you to in the mornings when his mouth was still full of toothpaste or whispered into your hair when the fatigue of everything made it hard to sleep.

It was different this time, though, tweaked at the request of your nonmusical knowledge but fixed by the talented hands of Yoongi, softened and backtracked with a piano you’d watched the commentary-Youtuber play himself while you roughed eager hands over his shoulders and high fived him with two hands afterwards (It’s perfect, thank you!), then taken to Jimin to add to the never-ending list of clips you’d emailed him, once you just wanted placed into a montage, nothing too fancy. But Jimin made it fancy, pouring the love you didn’t know how to say nor edit into the collage of memories, promising not to do anything stupid with his newfound ability to hack into Jeongguk’s Youtube account by means of your quick handwriting on a pink sticky note.

The memories started as early as you had felt confident enough to film him as much as he filmed you, quite literally a clip of him fiddling with his camera while you draped yourself over his shoulder, zooming in on the freckle underneath the smile on his lips while he murmured are you me now? to as late as the week before your anniversary when you’d caught him researching human sized flower bouquets in his office. Capturing the moments in between all of his life that was plastered on the Internet, like seeing himself through a mirror but instead with glasses on that zeroed in on your perspective, the love and affection he was aware of but often blind to the full magnitude.

He filmed things because he wasn’t good with words. You filmed things to reinforce your words, reassure him of your words.

You watched the last clip fade away with the music, the audio of the original clip left in this time, one from your last vacation where he’d given you a tiny diamond ring on the beach (This isn’t what you think. Okay maybe it is. It’s a promise. Do they call it a promise ring?) and you’d cried about how cheesy he was, eyes still a little puffy when you turned your phone camera on but it didn’t matter because he was still rambling to the painted canvas sky about how much he loved you when you squished his cheeks between your thumb and four fingers, ring not quite fully on your finger but prominent nonetheless, puffing out his lips enough to plant a firm kiss on them.

“I love you too, idiot.”

The screen was black long enough for the autoplay feature to slip into his video from the previous week, his own screeching voice bringing him back to reality as he exited the application, locking his phone to set it gently aside on the bench.

“How did you…”

“Yoongi mixed the song for me. Jimin helped me edit and upload,” You watched as he continued to stare at the sidewalk, eyes opening all the way and then scrunching shut.

“So you mean Jimin has my password?”

“He promised he wouldn’t do anything. I’ve been working on this for weeks, he would have already deleted that one prank video where you shaved a stripe into the back of his head and—”

Your surroundings whirled, voice cut off with an abrupt hmph! as you were crushed in a pair of strong arms, turned and twisted until you were straddling his lap.

“I’m kidding. Oh my god, I was just kidding,” Jeongguk’s nose dug into the crook of your neck, fists scrunched at the back of your shirt, “He can delete my entire channel. I couldn't care any less at the moment. I love you so much. I love you so fucking much—”

You cooed when he collected your face in his hands, holding you at the tear of his gaze until the streams bubbling over his bright eyes contoured a line down the slope of his nose. He laughed when your thumb brushed into his skin, collecting the droplets where they framed red at the crinkles in his smile, brushing until it did no good and you decided to kiss him instead.

“Thank you. It’s perfect—” Jeongguk stuttered into the seam of your lips that tasted of salt and peach, “—you’re perfect. You are. It’s ridiculous. I can’t believe you’re mine. How did I—”

“Shh.”

He flushed under your affections, seven shades of shy pink when you kissed his cheek then moved for the other. “This is why I stick to videos,” He told you when you kissed his eyelid, peering up at you with a scrunched nose that you kissed too.

“And you’re damn good at it.”

Some more squeaks and attempts at rambling his affections for you subsided like the leak of tears into your collar. “M’gonna hold you forever,” He decided finally, tightening his grip in the same moment that you tried to clamber off him.

“Only if I can love you forever.”

Silence and then Jeongguk huffed against the dip in your collarbone.

“Ew. Maybe we should both stick to videos…”

[himjopper]

the flea & the acrobat (jim hopper fic)

pairing: hopper x reader, stranger things chapter: 1/? chapter rating: teen, 18+ (mention of violence, fear, mild swearing, mention of sexual intentions) summary: you’re an FBI agent from the behavioral analysis unit, living in the big city and enjoying the hustle and bustle of the 80’s crime scene. you’ve worked your ass off to get respect around a male dominated field, earning yourself a promotion as the head of your department after you helped solve a missing persons case that swept the nation just short of a year ago. the case closed, but something happening in a small town in Hawkins, Indiana is making your bones chill with its similarities to your closed case. a young girl, barbara holland, is missing and you’ve got a hunch on how to bring her home. little do you know, Hawkins isn’t exactly textbook and you need the locals’s help. a/n: helloooo!! so I actually only got back into writing literally from just reading all the drabbles and fics on here about hop and I was deserperate to get in there myself. this started as a one shot and bc I have a difficult time uhh shutting up, it became a full fic. pls enjoy and feel free to msg me with ideas and inspiration it helps a ton!! special thanks to @chiefharbour for existing and getting me out of a writers block that had actual cobwebs <3 gif credit: @hawkinslibrary​

You loved the city.

You loved the traffic and the sound of cars honking, the occasional couple arguing, the screech of tires and never ending hustle. You loved the constant rain and the way it ruined your hair every morning at 8:07AM when you’d leave your apartment to get your double espresso before you stepped into the office just to be greeted with missing persons case after missing persons case. These were all things you told yourself, every day, every morning, and every night.

On cue, the pager on your hip beeps wildly. An involuntary groan comes from your throat while you try to preview the message and head into the building.

“Scotch, I need to talk to you about the Snake Hole Case-“

Your eyes look up to address the older gentleman in front of you who reeks of too much cologne and cheap cigars; he’s just a detective and he’s never been very confident in your abilities even though you’ve been the lead profiler in your division for the last two years and you have 36 solved cases under your belt.

Regardless, you give him your distracted attention as you both stride hurriedly down the hall leading to the conference room you should’ve been in ten minutes ago. The office is bustling and there’s a fax machine ringing in the distance but your rushed heeled steps are louder even on carpet.

“This better be worth my time, Hayes, I’m late for a meeting as is and I have a phone call with Seattle’s Chamber in fourteen minutes in counting.”

The shorter man quickens his step in attempt to catch up to you. “Snake Hole, the original killer was-“

You cut off his excitement with your bluntness as usual, “Gene Schwartzman, white male, 43-years-old, small town stores clerk, no children, never married, alcoholic, absolute low life...”

Hayes snorts, “Right, but he had a pattern, an obsession with younger women with a specific and detailed description, mirroring his own mother, and that’s why he would retaliate-“

Your heels come to a halt as you step in front of the older detective. His lips are chapped, his bottom teeth have ridges from obsessive grinding, the normally groomed hair is parted in every which way, there’s an ink stain on his dress shirt’s pocket. It’s not like him to be so out of sorts. He was obnoxious, sure, but not messy.

“That case was closed a year ago. What are you trying to tell me, Hayes?”

Nervously, his tongue darts out to lick his lips before he speaks. His voice remains low so only the two of you can hear.

“I think... I think we’re seeing an admirer of Schwartzmen mirroring his case. He never got to finish his pattern-“

“We were able to catch him before the final murder. We solved his puzzle first-“

“Someone in Indiana is trying to finish the job, Scotch. I think you need to see this.”

He holds your gaze for a moment as you’re replaying the details of the Snake Hole case in your memory. His hand grips the manilla folder that he extends out to you.

There’s suddenly an impatient call for you to go into the room just down the hall to join that meeting. You’re already twelve minutes late now and before you can respond, there’s another louder call of your name.

You take the folder from the detective and return his low volume, “Get one of the assistants to cancel the phone meeting I have with the Chamber, you and I need to talk. I want to know what’s going on in Indiana. Get me in contact with the local PD, as soon as possible.”

                           · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Everyone could tell you were distracted the whole meeting. Every second you weren’t looking at the file tucked under your half-assed notes was a second wasted. Your behavior was fidgety and as you clicked at your pen the whole half an hour, you couldn’t stop thinking about the secret admirer Schwartzmen has in Indiana of all places. The original murders took place a year ago in Alabama, made nationwide headlines for weeks and there was even a public memorial for the victims and their families. Schwartzmen confessed on tape and immediately thrown in prison to rot. Everything felt so final. What was the connection to Indiana? You finally got to read over the file on your lunch break with your third coffee before 1PM. Red nails drumming on the wood of your desk, frustrated. There’s a Missing poster of a younger girl, she’s sixteen, decorated with freckles across her face. Round cheeks, even rounder glasses, red hair and seemingly innocent. You hated that the bitter but smart detective Dennis Hayes of all people was going to be right. Unfortunately, Miss Barbara Holland of Hawkins, Indiana fit the description too well. She might even be closest in resemblance to Schwartzmen’s actual mother and it made the acid from your stomach rise up to the back of your tongue.

A knock at your door finally makes your eyes look away from the young girl’s school photo.

“Scotch?”

It’s Hayes and he’s holding two styrofoam cups, hopefully full of caffeine.

“Come in, please, sit.” You wave a manicured hand towards the chair in front of your desk and he takes a seat as he carefully places one of the cups next to your current (and nearly empty) mug.

“I’ll make this short,” Hayes begins. “I know your hands are full with other cases where they’re asking you to profile who kidnapped a dog from a park and robbed a granny at the mom and pop shop at noon-“

You roll your eyes at his brief condescending comment towards your line of work as if he could make his arrests without your insight.

“But you gotta admit, Scotch... the resemblance here is uncanny.”

And it was. Uncomfortably so. She was nearly a spitting image of Schwartzmen’s mother, down to the same yearbook photo we plastered on the screens of every television in America mirrored this young Barbara Holland’s. Schwartzmen was an orphan until the age of 12, he had grown up in his adolescence without a mother and resented the nameless redhead who left him at a church’s doorstep to be found. Angry and feeling abandoned, he grieved the loss of what he never had by murdering young women who resembled the only photo he had of his biological mother: her yearbook photo. The same yearbook photo you cleared with the media to be broadcast to America during the investigation a year ago.

A part of you feels responsible for a split second and there’s a tinge of guilt in your stomach thinking you put her at risk when you let the media have the photo of Schwartzmen’s mother, the very inspiration for all his heinous murders. Did someone see this young girl in Indiana and think she was an opportunity that couldn’t be missed? Was sixteen year old Barbara Holland just an innocent and unfortunate puzzle piece? You’re both staring at the file with some local news from Hawkins along with some notes from the Snake Hole case. It was more frustrating how little Hawkins had on Barbara���s disappearance. It was as simple as one minute was there, the next minute, she wasn’t. Good girl, good grades, good friends, what happened?

You break the thick and focused silence first.

“Did you get me the number for the state police?”

“Indiana State Police don’t have much on it, it’s mainly the Hawkins PD that seems to have more information. It’s a small town. They had two missing kids in the same month-“

Your brow furrowed together, “Two?”

Hayes leans back further in the chair, arms crossed over his chest nonchalantly.

“Young boy, no older than twelve, he turned up alive after some searches, seems unrelated to this case. There’s still no body found for the sixteen year old, goes by Barb. I think we need to get involved.”

This almost makes a snort leave your body.

“We? Hayes, no, I’m going alone.” He opens his mouth to protest but you continue with your voice stern, “I know the Schwartzmen case, I worked on it first hand, I’m going to Indiana. This is just another disorganized killer and the fact it’s only one girl missing gives me some hope. Some sad sack in the Midwest trying to get a shot of fame by comparing himself to Schwartzmen, recreating the profile, maybe make the public wonder if he’s still locked up, whatever. She’s a missing girl, but it doesn’t mean she’s dead. If this is mirroring Schwartzmen and the Hawkins PD hasn’t caught up to that, it’s my responsibility to involve myself to help them be a step ahead.”

Detective Hayes stands up from the chair then with a proud smirk on his face.

“You’re welcome, you know. You can say it.”

You scrunch your nose at him then.

“I could, but I don’t feel like it.”

Hayes chuckles as he turns on his heel to leave your office. “Well, enjoy Indiana, Scotch.”

You grunt in response behind the coffee cup, your lipstick leaving a print on the white foam.

As you’re about to hear the click of your office door closing signaling his exit, Hayes peeps his head back in. “Oh, you’ll have fun talking to that chief of police, by the way. Goes by Hopper, or somethin’ like that. Hung up on me twice and told me to go fuck myself on the third attempt. Seems like a hard ass, so. Maybe flirt a little, show a little leg when you touch down in Hawkins.”

His wink and sneering grin made you sick. Just when you thought this detective was useful. You draw in a patient sigh before looking back at him.

“Detective?” Your hands folded under your chin to appear sweeter.

Hayes steps more into the doorway to listen, he’s already eyed your crossed legs and heeled shoes. Pervert.

“The only time I’m going to show a little leg is before I kick your ass.”

The smile dropped from his face and it was followed by the slight slam of your office door. You smirk to yourself and prepare the arrangements to fly to Indiana to meet with Hawkins PD and hopefully bring Barbara Holland home.

[talk-to-me-devil-again]

To Be of Use (Joker fanfic, super smutty)

Ok so this is the first fic I’ve written in over ten years (since the Dark Knight came out lol), and the first fic I’ve ever finished, after that one sorry attempt back in ‘08. It’s super smutty and perverted, turn back now, it has  Dom/sub, anal, warning this is for GROWN folk!!! Also posted on AO3 under the name TalkToMeDevilAgain

Summary:

Reader has been a mental patient at Arkham for quite some time, and is bored and sex-starved. They can’t help but take notice of a handsome and mysterious new patient. Smut smut smut

Notes:

I based a lot of this on my own countless visits to mental hospitals. They’re boring and there’s nothing to do, so it’s natural that sex preoccupies your thoughts. I got the idea for this fic when I was in the mental hospital yet again, just a couple of weeks ago. I know that security at an actual, non-fictional mental hospital wouldn’t be this lax and that a male patient with a history of violence wouldn’t be allowed to mingle in the dayroom (common area) with females, but just suspend disbelief for a bit lol. Also, it’s entirely plausible that Reader has no idea who Arthur/Joker is or what he’s done, they typically don’t allow you any access to the news in places like that. I hope you all enjoy, I wrote this from like 3-5 AM and I know there are mistakes and that I probably switch back and forth between past tense and present tense, but I’m proud of this hot, perverted little fic hahaha

Work Text:

It was hard to tell how many hours you’d been sitting in the dayroom. They didn’t keep a clock on the wall, because they knew some of the patients would obsess over it. In fact, the concept of “time” didn’t really seem to exist here. Days just stretched on and bled into each other. You had no idea what was going on in the outside world, as watching the news was forbidden - if the patients here couldn’t handle clocks, they definitely couldn’t handle the news. Apart from the boredom and monotony, you really didn’t mind. You felt better whenever you were locked up: you ate and showered regularly, and your sleep schedule was almost normal. You’d once joked with a friend who was constantly in and out of prison, that the two of you couldn’t resist the allure of “three hots and a cot” - three hot meals a day and a bed. Still, the boredom was a big problem. And the lack of any... stimulation. You desperately needed that. Not “cuddling” or “affection”, god no. As usual, your desires were ravenous and carnal. You’d never been the prettiest or the youngest or the skinniest, at least not in a long time, but you knew what men liked and how to give it to them. They were often able to sense that about you, too. Some of the more handsome and well-built med techs had to avert their gaze when you started eye-fucking them, but you knew they wanted it. Just not enough to lose their jobs over it.

Right now, it wasn’t the med techs who interested you. You weren’t looking at the man seated next to you, but you knew that he was looking at you, and that he didn’t care if you noticed. He’d shown up in the ward a few weeks ago, and the two of you hadn’t talked much. To tell the truth, you’d been nervous, and it wasn’t like you to be nervous around an attractive man, not since your insecure high school days that were long gone. There was something that was just different about this man: dark and handsome (though not exactly tall), thin but with defined muscles, high cheekbones, a faint scar above his lip, and unnervingly green eyes. Your standards had fallen since you’d been locked up in here, and you were so sex-starved that you found yourself fantasizing about employees and other patients who weren’t even your type. But oh god, he was your type, he was the very definition of your type. You’d always preferred the men who were a little less obvious - the tall burly men with the straight white teeth and symmetrical features, the kind who looked like high school quarterbacks, were always your last choice. The man sitting right next to you was the one who’d recently been occupying your thoughts, whenever you retreated to your room and gave yourself orgasm after orgasm to pass the time.

You knew he was looking at you, and it made you squirm in your seat, squeezing your legs together as the tension in your pelvis became unbearable. You knew you were soaking wet, and you wondered if he could smell it. The thought of that just turned you on even more. On the occasions you’d caught him looking at you, as you pretended like you were casually gazing around the room, the hunger in his eyes had startled and excited you. Today you were pretending to be engrossed in an old re-run of Sanford and Son on the tiny dayroom tv, but you knew that he knew better. What was the point in continuing the pretense? The sexual tension had reached its boiling point. You made up your mind, and without taking your eyes from the tiny TV bolted to the wall, you slowly reached out your hand and placed a single index finger on his knee. The restless bouncing of his leg stopped, and you gently ran your finger over the top of his thigh, from the knee almost to his groin, and back again. You were barely touching him, but you knew he had to be getting hard.

You kept this up for what was probably only a minute or so, but what seemed like hours. Despite the loud screeching of the TV, you could hear only your breath and his, both growing slower and deeper as your arousal increased. Suddenly his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, firm and powerful, and he leaned into you to whisper in your ear. “I’m going to make you regret that,” he breathed, and he nibbled your earlobe for a split second before returning to his former position as if nothing had happened. You audibly moaned, though no one noticed - no one here ever noticed anything, as the patients were too caught up in their own worlds and the med techs and nurses never stopped gossiping and joking around amongst themselves. It was like you were the only two people in the world. You finally met his gaze, and his green eyes seemed as if they’d turned black. He looked like he wanted to devour you, and it was the most erotic thing you’d ever seen. You couldn’t handle it anymore - you abruptly got up from your seat so you could go to your room and release yourself, over and over. You didn’t have a choice in the matter, you knew that you’d explode like a dying star if you didn’t. When you reached the door, you looked back at him one last time: his arms were crossed, and he was smirking at you. You nearly ran to your room, desperate for relief.

You guessed it was around midnight, though you had no way of knowing. As usual you couldn’t sleep, and the sleeping pills they gave you each night didn’t help, as you’d long since developed a tolerance to them. Orgasm after orgasm had left you soaking wet, but despite your skill at pleasuring yourself, you still hadn’t found the relief you needed. You wanted the dark-haired man with the green eyes to make use of your wet and willing holes, to just use you as a fuck toy, rough and hard and punishingly. You knew most people didn’t think like this, that they would want to take things slower and more gently. They would want to kiss, and receive oral sex, and maybe even cuddle afterwards. Those things all seemed alien and deeply uncomfortable to you, but then again, if you were “most people” you wouldn’t be locked up in a place like this to begin with. There was nothing to do here, and nothing to think about, so you had no choice but to retreat into your own fantasy world. You couldn’t stop re-living that moment, over and over in your head like a video tape, when he’d whispered threateningly into your ear and given your earlobe a little bite. God, you hoped he intended to make good on his threat.

The door creaked open, and you jumped, pulling the sheets to cover your naked body. The door was always ajar, as the nurses had to do rounds every hour or so, so there was no point in shutting it. You really didn’t want a nurse to see you naked and horny, so you flipped over and faced the wall, unconvincingly trying to pretend you were asleep. The door pushed open all the way, and you knew it wasn’t a nurse, you just knew, though you didn’t dare face the approaching footsteps and spoil the moment. An elegant, masculine hand reached out and pulled the blankets down to your knees. The hand reached beneath your thighs, and found your wet pussy - those elegant fingers slid in, and pulled out with an audible pop. You gave up all pretense of being asleep, and looked up and locked eyes with the dark-haired man. You’d never seen someone look so hungry, and you imagined that his expression was mirrored on your face. Never breaking eye contact with you, he brought his hand to his mouth and sucked your wetness from the fingers that had just been inside you. You moaned just like earlier, but louder and more urgent.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, you were pulled out of bed and bent over the simple wooden dresser that was one of the only furnishings in your sterile room. Before you had time to process what was happening, the man with the green eyes had started spanking you, though describing it with a word as simple as “spanking” didn’t seem right. This wasn’t the playful and somewhat reluctant teasing of some twenty-something boytoy, with whom you’d begged and pleaded to add something spicy to the vanilla missionary sex that he preferred. This was rapid, brutal, and punishing, and you had to bite down on your fist to avoid yelling loud enough to attract the attention of an employee. It fulfilled a primal and instinctual need in you, that you couldn’t possibly find the words to explain. The punishment seemed to go on for hours, and you knew your ass was bright red by that point: claimed by him, marked by him. You knew you’d bear these marks for days, and the thought of it somehow made you even wetter than before.

Another rough shove, and you were off the dresser, down to your bare knees on the cold linoleum floor. He was still wearing the standard issue white scrubs that every other patient wore, and the thought of you being naked and exposed before him while he was still fully-clothed, kneeling beneath him as he stood looking down at you, made your pussy throb. You looked up at him as if he were a god, tears of pleasure and pain screaming from your eyes, and he spoke for the first time since he’d quietly entered your room. “I’m tired of you teasing me, you stupid little slut. And I’m tired of the way you look at the other men here. Do you think I don’t notice? I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for days, and when I’m finished you’ll know that you belong to me. Is that understood?” You nodded, and when that doesn’t seem to satisfy him, you managed to eke out a simple “Yes”. That earned you a slap on the face that almost made you see stars. “Yes what, whore?” You understood what he wanted. “Yes sir,” you replied. “Good. You’re learning,” he said, and laughed in a way that you’d never heard anyone laugh before.

Still looking down on you, naked and kneeling, he ran his hand through your hair, cupped your cheek in a way that was almost gentle, and pried your lips apart with his rough thumb. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you eagerly obliged as he reached for the waistband of his pants and pulled them down just low enough to expose his hard, impressive cock. With a rough thrust he was in your mouth, and you were in heaven. He tasted like precum and smelled like sex. You instantly went to work, utilizing your years of experience in getting men off. It had never seemed like a chore to you, and you couldn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t enjoy it. He put his hand on the back of your head, tangling it in your hair, as he slowly and almost gently started fucking your mouth. At one point he removed himself from your mouth, thumped his dick against your face a few times, and used the tip to spread precum around your mouth like messy lipstick, before re-entering you. You reached up a hand and cupped his balls, starting to massage them as your expert mouth took his cock in, over and over. He clearly hadn’t been expecting that, and while he was clearly struggling to maintain his composure, he let out an involuntary moan that deeply excited you.

You didn’t think he’d be able to hold on much longer like this, and he clearly seemed to agree, as you suddenly found yourself being pulled from the floor by your wrists and shoved up against the cool, sterile white wall. He used one hand to pin your wrists in place above your head with his considerable strength, while the other hand pinched your nipples and roughly squeezed and slapped at your tits. He stopped working on your tits and suddenly entered you, gliding through your wetness with ease, slow at first, then fucking you at a frenzied pace as your pussy stretched to accommodate him. While never ceasing the frantic pace of his thrusts, he leaned in as if to whisper something like he had earlier that day, then took your sensitive earlobe into his mouth and started working it with his teeth. By that point you weren’t even moaning, just mewling helplessly like a lost cat, caught up in pain and ecstasy. He pounded endlessly into your pelvis in a way that released the tension that had been building there for months, making you come completely undone as you orgasmed around his cock, again biting your fist so you wouldn’t scream and get both of you caught. He didn’t seem anywhere close to being finished, though. “You fucking belong to me,” he breathed into your ear. “I’m going to prove it to you.”

You weren’t exactly sure what he meant, hadn’t he already proved it to you? For the first time you felt a sense of trepidation, that formed an intoxicating mixture with the blind lust that had already taken over your senses. He pulled out of you and gently but firmly guided you to your bed, laying you down face first with your ass hanging over the edge. You felt his tip gently nudge against the sensitive, erogenous bundle of nerves that surrounded your other hole, the one that most men seemed to be afraid of. You nearly screamed with anticipation: you’d done this before but it had been a while, though you often explored this area on your own time. The secret that most people didn’t realize was that being filled in that hole felt like pure, utter domination. That there was no better way to belong to someone, body and soul, than to give up this part of yourself to them. For what seemed like an eternity he rubbed the head of his cock between both holes, and you eventually realized that he was using your own natural lubricants to prepare you for him.

When the tip of his dick broached your barrier, he seemed to understand how important it was to take this slowly, letting you adjust to his size. After an interminable amount of time he began steadily pushing in and out, and the sensation was so pleasurable and intense that you buried your face in your mattress and writhed and screamed as your hands grasped at the sheets. He reached out and took one of your hands into his firm grip, never breaking his slow but relentless pace. He lowered his body onto yours and murmured, “God, you feel so fucking tight. I own you. I’ll always own you. I’ll never let you forget that.” You nodded and replied submissively, “Yes sir. I’m yours. I’m only yours. Thank you for teaching me who I belong to.” That seemed to excite him, and his thrusting grew faster, though he was obviously trying to control it. Your fingers snaked down to your clit as he continued to fuck you in the ass, and you started teasing at yourself, determined to come at the same time he did.

At this moment you felt complete bliss. The mysterious dark-haired man, whose name you still didn’t know, had claimed you as his. He’d marked your body and used all of your holes for his pleasure. You knew you’d both be locked up in here for a long time, and that security was pretty lax at night. The employees were underpaid and overworked, and even if he were caught sneaking into your room you knew he wouldn’t face any real consequences. There was no limit to the amount of times he could claim you like this. You were useful to him, and being used like this was your dream. A smile grew across your face, as his thrusting and your ministrations to your clit reached their climax. You let out a muffled yell into the mattress as you climax, and feel yourself be filled with that familiar hot liquid. He collapses on your body and the two of you pant in unison, his cock still inside of you. You both know he can’t stay much longer before getting caught and scolded, but you commit every detail of this moment to memory so that it will last forever. He gently kisses you on your cheek, and you’re so happy you could cry.

[willexxmercer]

Fic Masterlist

WIPS

Felix Culpa

(Legend of Korra) (Varrick x Zhu Li) (T)

Varrick is the intimidating boss at Varrick Global Industries, and Zhu Li is his ever dutiful assistant.  When Varrick is faced with being deported back to the Southern Water Tribe, he makes a split second decision that affects both his and Zhu Li’s lives.

Riptide

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (G)

Octavia has Diyoza on her knees and Bellamy tries to convince her not to go through with killing her when Clarke arrives with shocking news.

Puppy Love

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (G)

When Bellamy brought a puppy into their already complicated life, Echo was a little confused.  How would their rigid schedules work now?

Everybody Wants to Rule the World

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (T) (moodboard)

When Roan dropped Echo off at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, she didn’t know what she expected.  Meeting Bellamy Blake certainly wasn’t on her radar.

Things I Almost Remembered

(Star Wars) (Rey x Ben) (T) (moodboard)

Former Senator Lei Organa is offering a large reward to whomever can return her long lost son to her.  Rey and Finn decide to find someone on the streets of Chandrila who looks like the lost prince and teach him to play the part so they can get rich… but this Kylo Ren seems almost a little too perfectly matched to the part.

Something About the Sunshine

(Game of Thrones) (Sansa x Theon) (T) (moodboard)

Three years ago, it was a simple summer beach romance.  Now, Sansa is navigating a rocky relationship with Joffrey, and Theon is trying to break out of Ramsay’s iron grip, and they barely remember each other, at least until circumstances throw them back together.

They Picked Us

(Once Upon a Time) (Emma x Killian) (T) (Major Character Death) (moodboard)

When tragedy strikes, Emma finds herself raising her best friend’s infant son with the help of the devil incarnate, one Mr Killian Jones.  Will they be able to put aside their differences long enough to make sure little Leo has a good life?

Ocean’s Roar

(Game of Thrones) (Sansa x Theon) (T) (moodboard)

Sansa begins her latest research expedition, not realizing it will lead her to possibly one of the greatest scientific discoveries of her career.. and turn her personal life upside down.

Camera Flashes and Magazine Covers

(Julie and the Phantoms) (Julie x Luke) (T) (moodboard)

During a trip to Hollywood for a music competition, Julie meets rock star Luke Patterson, completely by chance.  After spending time with him, she starts to realize he might not be the jerk she thinks he is, until an interview changes all of that.

Luke has the chance of a lifetime, to land a movie deal, but there's one catch - he needs to stay out of the tabloids.  Meeting Julie Molina, the one person in the world who isn't obsessed with him, complicates things.

A Juke AU based on the 2010 Disney Channel Original Movie Starstruck

Completed Multichapter Fics

N/A (yet)

Completed Oneshots

The Laundromat

(Glee) (Kurt x Adam) (G) (1399 words)

After losing a bet to Rachel, Kurt has to visit the Laundromat to do her laundry for her. Thankfully, Adam surprises him and keeps him company, despite the fact that they have a date that night.

Zhu Li Doesn’t Dance

(Legend of Korra) (Varrick x Zhu Li) (G) (515 words)

Zhu Li doesn’t dance, except when Varrick convinces her to.

The In-Laws

(Legend of Korra) (Varrick x Zhu Li) (G) (1094 words)

After his marriage to Zhu Li, Varrick faces the biggest challenge of his life… meeting the inlaws.

Roleplaying

(Legend of Korra) (Varrick x Zhu Li) (T) (461 words)

Zhu Li tries to spice up her married life with Varrick, except he doesn’t seem to notice.

Nobody Does It Like You

(Legend of Korra) (Varrick x Zhu Li) (G) (808 words)

While trapped in prison, Zhu Li and Varrick enjoy some tea, and have a certain moment…

I’m Here

(Once Upon a Time) (Emma x Killian) (T) (1899 words)

Killian thought he was going to lose her to that ice cave, and now that he has her back, he isn’t about to leave her alone.

A Little Help is Easy to Find

(Glee) (Kurt x Adam) (G) (817 words)

Kurt vents to Adam, and Adam offers a solution.

Iced Caramel Latte

(Once Upon a Time) (Emma x Killian) (G) (3191 words)

The coffee shop was his safe haven, so when it was disturbed by a group of students, he was rightfully offended… that is, until one girl sticks in his mind.

Changes

(The 100) (Harper, minor Harper x Monty) (G) (1113 words)

Harper and Monty’s fling results in the action girl’s body going through some interesting changes that are very much not welcome.  Yeah, she’s not happy with the idea at all.

A Leaf on a Breeze

(The 100) (Harper & Echo, minor Bellamy x Echo, Spacekru) (G) (3232 words)

Years later, Echo realized something in hindsight.  She should have known that of course it would have been Harper, the girl with so much heart, who reached out first, and she was forever grateful for it.

Or, Echo feels alone on the ring, and Harper is the one who brings her out of her shell.

I Love You a Latte

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (G) (4044 words) (moodboard)

Echo didn’t do Valentines Day… until she did.

The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (T) (Chose Not to Use Archive Warnings) (8480 words) (moodboard)

It’s Purge Night and Echo gets stuck in more ways than one.  Over, and over, and over again.

Like a river flows surely to the sea

(The 100) (Harper x Roan) (G) (2804 words) (moodboard)

She was drawn to him, and his presence helped her during what could have been a nightmare.

Or, Harper, the Girl Under the Floor, finds someone she hasn’t seen in months while being chased by an Azgedan warrior.

Hello Mr Blake

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (E) (4143 words)

He was a frequent flyer due to his job.  She was a flight attendant who always seemed to be working on his flights.  Eventually, joining the mile high club just seemed like the right thing to do.

Sail into the Moon

(The 100) (Raven x male!Luna, Spacekru) (G) (5867 words) (moodboard)

After an accident leaves her unable to sail, Raven hated the thought of being close to the water.  Her friends somehow managed to convince her to go to the beach with them, though, and there she met the most attractive guy… except she might have met him before.  Who knows?  It’s a mystery.

Burn

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo, Spacekru) (T) (2886 words)

Bellamy wakes up in the lab, only to find that the Lightbournes are planning on injecting Echo with Nightblood as a test.

Not Goodbye

(Dynasty 2017) (Steven x Sam) (T) (2112 words)

With Sam feeling a bit down, Kirby takes it upon herself to plan a date that he won’t forget.

The Butterflies

(The 100) (Octavia x Lincoln) (T) (4383 words) (moodboard)

It was as though the universe kept trying to tell her something.  Every time she felt the butterflies, it was because of him, and him only.

oh, if the sky comes falling down, for you there’s nothing in this world I wouldn’t do

(The 100) (Octavia x Lincoln, Blake Siblings) (G) (2085 words) (moodboard)

“You shot him?” “Not fatally, but it was a good distraction.” “You’re developing quite the habit.” “I guess I have.”

What if Bellamy had made the right choice back in season 3?

where the love light gleams

(The 100) (Murphy x Raven) (T) (7664 words) (moodboard)

Raven hadn’t been home for Christmas in four years, but the one year she did, she met Murphy, new in town since she had last been there, and learns a very important lesson about the holidays.

We’ve No Place to Go

(Once Upon a Time) (Emma x Killian) (G) (3520 words) (moodboard)

While making a last minute trip to Storybrooke for Christmas, Emma and Henry come across a number of problems… including one very attractive traveler.

On Sister My Sister

(The 100) (Blake Siblings) (T) (5754 words) (moodboard)

After years of estrangement, Octavia waltzes back into Bellamy’s life and helps him take down one of the biggest drug rings in New York, all while making all his friends think they’re in a relationship.  Lovely.

Gunning for Glory

(The 100) (Bellamy x Gina) (T) (5119 words) (moodboard)

While on a routine mission for Kane, Bellamy comes across a mystery girl who points him towards a treasure trove that might prove useful for Arkadia, but danger lurks up every spiraling staircase.  It may just be the distraction he needs, though, to get over Clarke leaving.

like dust behind the wagon

(The 100) (Harper x Monroe, Spacekru) (T) (Major Character Death) (5470 words) (moodboard)

Harper and her family were in search of a better life in Oregon when tragedy struck.  She didn’t think she would ever recover, and then she met Monroe, a lone traveler looking for a ride to Fort Bridger.

In the Middle

(Harry Potter) (Harry x Draco) (G) (1178 words)

Draco and Harry attempt to navigate their two worlds as their relationship continues.

make a wish (count to three)

(The 100) (Murphy x Emori) (T) (5485 words) (moodboard)

In Alpha City, anyone who isn’t a Prime, the top tier of society, is claimed by a factory to work for a meager living at the age of 18.  When Murphy is selected for the factory overseen by the mysterious Alie, he thinks life might finally be getting better…

if you choose to fly

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo x Raven) (M) (5498 words) (moodboard)

It’s always been the three of them, for as long as she can remember, and she’s happy.  Bellamy kisses her forehead and Echo raises a hand to her cheek, reaching across and pressing a featherlight kiss to her lips.  A week later, she finds herself missing the tranquility of the moment.

Or the origin story of Raven Reyes.

Promise

(The 100) (Luna & Octavia) (M) (Graphic Depictions of Violence, Major Character Death) (4974 words) (moodboard)

During the Conclave, Luna and Octavia find themselves in another version of Polis where vampires have been terrorizing what’s left of humanity.

Strawberries and Cream

(The 100) (Octavia x Niylah) (E) (3015 words) (moodboard)

Sure, Niylah Keene was freaking gorgeous, and every time she passed her in the hallway, her throat went dry and she had to quickly duck into her apartment before she did something she would regret, but would Octavia admit she had a massive crush on her new neighbour?

No.  The answer was no.

time has brought your heart to me

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (E) (9309 words) (moodboard)

High up in the mountains that towered over Eden, where the snow swirled around in the wind, lived the last pocket of elves in the kingdom.  When Echo made the journey to the ground to spy on the humans, she had no idea that her story was only beginning, and that the man she met would remain in her heart for centuries to come.

warm me baby

(The 100) (Miller x Bryan) (E) (2012 words) (moodboard)

When the heating system on the Ark goes offline, Miller goes to check on his boyfriend… and then they end up in Bryan’s private quarters with nowhere to be for an indefinite length of time.

Reality Check

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo, Spacekru) (T) (2204 words) (moodboard)

It wasn’t real, she kept reminding herself.

Except it was real.  Bellamy had kissed her.

Or Echo tries to cope with the fact that her relationship with Bellamy might actually be real (and Spacekru knows more than they let on).

Healing AIs, Healing Hearts

(The 100) (Octavia x Raven, Raven & Echo) (T) (Major Character Death) (8989 words) (moodboard)

Raven and her mother were a perfect team, working with damaged and mistreated AIs and tech.  When tragedy strikes, however, Raven has to figure out how to make it on her own.  And then there’s that new assistant her mom hired, making things interesting.

talos bless us

(The 100) (Space Sisters) (T) (5358 words) (moodboard)

When Bellamy gets himself captured by Imperials, sisters Raven and Echo plan the ultimate heist to break him out of a closely guarded fort, aided by a dark elf and a khajiit.

until the next, my beloved

(The 100) (Luna x Raven x Roan) (T) (2798 words) (moodboard)

Luna and Roan set off to find the legendary city of Eden, where it is said there is gold stretching as far as one can see.  As Raven cannot come due to her blindness, Luna takes it upon herself to keep sending her updates on their journey.

Onwards

(The 100) (Spacekru) (G) (2033 words)

Echo makes the ultimate choice: does she fully transcend or does she take a chance to live out the rest of her days with the ones she loves the most?

Upwards

(The 100) (Echo x Raven) (G) (1692 words) (moodboard)

She had always been there, Echo realized.  She was her home.

it was only a dream?

(The 100) (Spacekru) (T) (3726 words) (moodboard)

It’s just another ordinary day on the Ring until someone points out that it’s Halloween.  That’s when things get weird.

de omnibus dubitandum

(The 100) (Lexa x Josephine x Echo) (M) (3740 words) (moodboard)

After vampires took over the world, the Hunter Association was the only thing that stood between the creatures of the night and the rest of humanity.  Lexa, commander of the association, was determined to bring the world to a better place, no matter the cost.

And then she met Josephine Lightbourne.

a new and glorious morn

(Game of Thrones) (Sansa x Theon) (G) (10358 words) (moodboard)

He needed a date to the Yule Ball.  She needed a fake boyfriend until after the Yule Ball.  Seems simple, right?  At Hogwarts, nothing is that simple.

nice and rosy and comfy cozy

(Once Upon a Time) (Emma x Killian) (T) (5263 words) (moodboard)

Four times Princess Emma is helped into a sleigh by a nameless naval officer, and one time she goes on a sleigh ride with him and learns his name.

bound to be talk tomorrow

(The 100) (Echo x Raven) (E) (4074 words) (moodboard)

When Echo gets a call to clean up some broken glass in a cabin at the resort on Christmas Eve, she meets Raven, a girl who’s just had her heard broken.  Things get spicy when they get snowed in for the night.

Drummer Boy

(Julie and the Phantoms) (Alex x Willie) (G) (1777 words) (moodboard)

Alex has the perfect gift prepared for Willie for Christmas, but his nerves keep getting in the way leading up to the big day.

toward brighter days

(The 100) (Raven x Luna) (T) (5067 words) (moodboard)

Dear Harper,

I am ridiculously out of it this morning.  Last night, when we reached the campsite, Luna suggested we give Echo her own bedroll, since she gave hers up the night before.  Which meant Luna was sleeping with me.  Beside me.

Excerpts from Raven’s journal as she travels to Polis for the Winter Solstice Festival

when life gives you shit, you make kool-aid

(The 100) (Bellamy x Echo) (M) (12017 words) (moodboard)

Bellamy used to have it all, and then one screw-up cost him his career and his fancy life.  Now, working as a bodyguard for alcoholic businessmen and their families, he gets a call from his sister for a job… escorting a hitwoman to testify against a man convicted of crimes against humanity.  What could possibly go wrong?

your package has been delivered

(Julie and the Phantoms) (Julie x Luke) (G)  (5688 words) (moodboard)

Julie was pretty sure she didn't order guitar picks.  Luke most certainly did not order monster slippers.  Clearly, the delivery driver mixed up their houses.  But, delivering packages to each other becomes a ritual, and the fact that they each can't get the other out of their mind?  Surely, nothing will come of that. 

i feel in my heart the start of something new

(Game of Thrones) (Sansa x Theon) (G) (2823 words) (moodboard)

Sansa isn't feeling New Year's Eve so she hides and reads.  And then she (re)meets Theon, and shares a few moments with him, making her night that much better. 

never meant to leave unsaid

(Julie and the Phantoms) (Gen Sunset Curve) (T) (3760 words) (moodboard)

Reggie goes to a band rehearsal after a rough day at home, only to find his bandmates equally on edge.  When tensions rise, he can't handle it any more.

Reggie runs.