#ok now try all the skin tone options i wanna see what looks best!!

[megaxard]

had a plan today. it was

remember that there's a place nearby where you can rent a fancy gaming pc for $12 (for an hour)

realize that this would probably be able to run the dawntrail benchmark

i could use this to see what i want to fantasia ahris'a into...

attempt to go there after bounsweet community day

its closed :(

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

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"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

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tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

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It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

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The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[calaofnoldor]

Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo​!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.  

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn’t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?” 

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

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[secndlife]

pairing: jeonghan x reader

genre: fluff, angst? second life!au

summary: when something as big as a proposal happens, you start to wonder about the what ifs of a different life. 

word count: 2.9k

warnings: none

song

“I’ll be back later, ok?” You said, voice soft as you placed gentle kisses by the sides of his neck. He felt good, skin smoother than the finest piece of silk against your lips. You’ve been together for years now and you knew you’d never get over how sweet he tasted. It was like honey. Better, even. He was like the most addictive of drugs. Your arms were wrapped around his waist while he focused on the screen in front of him, comfortably sitting by the kitchen stool.

He hummed at your gesture, goosebumps hitting his arms like a soft breeze. “Hmkay.” His hand went to the shiny, brand-new object placed at your finger, digits tracing its’ outline slowly before he intertwined your hands. “Off to tell him the news?” He felt you smiling against him.

“Yeah,” you mumbled against his neck, lips still pressed against the veins that he had there. “This is too big of a thing to tell him through the phone.” Your now fiancé nodded in agreement. You held him a bit tighter against your grip, chin now resting on his shoulder and eyes stuck at your hands. It was crazy how something as small and delicate as a ring could carry so much meaning, could feel so heavy. Not the bad heavy, though. Just a different one that you weren’t used to it yet. The one that makes your head spin and your heart beat faster. 

He caught you staring at the diamond and his mind went to places he didn’t want to allow. As always, his tongue moved faster, the question he’s been dying to ask ever since he proposed last night rolled out of his lips before he could stop it. “Are you happy?” It was barely a whisper, though, like a secret that he was keeping inside for longer than it seemed. He knew, with the bit of rationality he had inside himself, that you were happy. For you, there was no such thing as hiding your feelings, your heart always being bravely worn on your sleeve. And he would never forget the spark in your eyes when he opened the small box and got down on one knee. At darker times, however, he was still that insecure college boy that asked you out years ago. He just needed the validation. 

You first thought was to gently smack his chest and tell him to stop being silly. That this question was out of place and ask him why this lunatic, unreal thought had the nerve to materialize itself into words. But after knowing him so well, you figured that this wasn’t the best approach. Like you had a roadmap to his manners, you could take the hidden hint in his tone that he tried his best to disguise. So you just held him closer, allowing your body to engulf him with love in the form of a hug. “Yes. I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” 

He let out a breath in relief, pressing your arms against his chest as a form of response to all the uncertainty that danced in his mind like ballerinas in new flats. As if the warmness of your skin could fight, almost instantaneously, the coldness that started to form around his heart. “Good.” He brought your hand to his lip now, placing a comfortable kiss against the ring, lips barely brushing at your knuckles. “I love you.”

You’ve been hearing the melodic way he said those three words for a long time now, your paths being laced together for longer than you could count on one hand. Still, every time he said it, it was like the first time you had ever heard it. Like the world had stopped spinning just for you. Like stars were falling out of the sky to be placed in your hands as a gift. Like you were there, at that moment, just to live through the greatness of being loved in the way he loved you. “I love you too.” 

“Good,” he said, once again. With a tap by the back of your hand, he tried sending you away. “Ok, go. We both know how he gets when someone’s late.” He giggled. Your heart felt warm at the sound. 

“Wanna come?” You offered. They were friends too. You were sure the youngest wouldn’t mind. “You haven’t seen each other in a while.”

“Is that why you want me to go?” He teased. 

With a small laugh, you said, “yes.” You didn’t want to admit, but you’d kinda miss him. You wanted to be around him these days as much as you could. It started before the proposal. Seeing him confess his love once more, but this time with the twist of the promise of forever, under the star-filled summer sky, just made it all deeper. It was like this thirst for him would never end. Even a couple of minutes away seemed too long, too unbearable. It was like the air was being sucked out of your lungs. 

He hummed. “I can’t. I have to send some reports on the recordings to the company today, so I need to double-check everything.” You pouted. “Don’t make that face. You know I can’t resist it.”

You giggled, “Then don’t.”

“I think you need some time alone with him.” His tone was as calm as his heart.

You let out a whine and nodded, “Fine.” You squeezed his body closer to yours once more, trying to gather as much of him as you could for the time you’d spend out. 

“Tell him I miss him, though.”

“Sorry I’m late,” you said between breaths, placing your bag by one of the empty chairs.

He looked up and raised a brow at you, his black hair that was now a bit too long falling over his gaze. He was wearing a simple white shirt and some denim pants. You were used to his presence, something impossible not to be as he was your friend for as long as you could remember. But you’d never get accustomed to how heavenly he looked. The way his lips curled up whenever he smiled could make flowers bloom in dry land. The way his eyes slightly, almost imperceptibly, changed colors whenever he stared at the sun for too long could make anyone want to dive in the dark mysteries hidden behind them.  

“I should be used to this by now,” he said, with a teasing tone. “I don’t know why I still show up on time to any of our gatherings.”

You placed a loud, wet kiss by his rosy cheek before biting back at his comment. “Because you love to complain when I’m late.” You sat across from him and smiled. 

He giggled. “That does give me a reason to live.”

You shook your head, taking the menu from the center of the table. “You’re insufferable,” you scoffed. It felt relieving to be around him like this. Too good. Too comfortable. It was almost as if there were no pressure to be anything other than you with him. Freeing - that’s what it felt like to be around him. Your heart ached as if you haven’t seen him in forever. It hadn’t been that long though, but for sure both of your work schedules were clashing way too often for your liking these days. 

“And despite that, you still love me.” He took the menu as well, scanning among the sea of options. He was never good at making choices. Too many options for something as simple as a brunch made him tired. 

With eyes glued to the yellowish page before them, you said sincerely, a gentle smile resting against your lips., “I really do, don’t I?” You were a firmer believer that love had many faces and forms and fronts. You couldn’t quite describe the one you had for him. You just knew it was stronger than time. And stronger than life too. You knew, deep down, that this wasn’t your first encounter. The two of you had talked about it before in one drunken night at college. Or more like you talked and he listened. You said that life was magical and alluring to put the two of you together again in this lifetime. He didn’t question. He wouldn’t. He knew it too. In his head, he liked to think he’d always gravitate towards you, one way or another. This thought never really went away. It wouldn’t. 

He smiled at your words while trying to figure out what to order. He’d probably just have whatever you were having. That’s how it usually worked whenever you two went out for food. You’d lead, he’d follow. “What are we drinking?”

After thinking for a couple of seconds, you spoke up. “Maybe we could have mimosas? Or just plain champagne?” 

He looked up, “Really? Why do you want to drink fucking champagne?” You never drank that. Maybe five times in the course of 15 years, only on very special occasions like college graduation or getting dumped by your second boyfriend. You were a beer type of girl. Or mojito, if you were in a party mood. He tilted his head in amusement and confusion, “What happened?”

You placed your hands on your lap, not ready to let the ring show just yet. He was very observant, so maybe he had noticed it already and was just giving you the time to tell him yourself. Maybe it’d be good to have a drink first. Get some alcohol to pump the blood. You weren’t nervous. You knew he’d be thrilled with the news. You just needed to feel prepared. You’d change the topic for now. “How is she?” 

He shook his head while calling the waiter and ordering two glasses of champagne. “Why are you changing the subject?” He inquired after placing the order. 

“I’ll tell you in a bit,” you pleaded. Your fingers were still resting against your thighs. “Now answer, how is Sowon?”

He laughed once more. You loved his laugh. “She’s fine. She asked about you today.” Your lips curved up in a smile. “She’s busy. But she’s good, yeah.” You nodded. “How is he?”

“He misses you,” you said, voice delicate over the background noise. It was his turn to nod. “But he’s good too.”

“I’ll call him later.” He meant it. You knew he would. He was not the one to be distant. And he wasn’t. Before he could say something else, the waiter returned with the bubbly glasses and placed them ahead of the both of you. You thanked him and were left in nothing but the pleasant company of your best friend once more. “So?”

You decided to play along a bit more just to annoy him. “What?” He hated that. 

He rolled his eyes. “You’re really not telling me why we’re having champagne on a random Saturday mid summer?”

You took the clear, fancy glass in your left hand and took a long sip. Ok, ready. You let out a sigh and extended your right hand to him, the ring shining brighter under the natural night. He carefully looked at it, reaction not quite yet showing. “Wait.” His mouth was now shaped in a small ‘o’. He was putting the pieces together and his lips formed a magnificent smile. “Is this—”

“Yeah,” you said, voice a bit shaky. You were trying your best to hide the uneasiness running through your body. You knew he would approve, and that he would wish you nothing but the best. Still, he was such a meaningful person to you that the mere thought of him not being fond of such happening made you feel sick to your stomach. 

He was always good with words. He managed his way through them as a maestro leading an orchestra. Now, it felt like they were escaping him when he needed the most. He took your hand in his and squeezed it, hoping his gesture would say more than his poor brain was being able to voice it. “When did he propose?” There was no surprise in his question. He didn’t actually know, but it was somewhat expected, you guessed. 

You held his hand strong as if it was supposed to keep you in place, to keep you in peace. “Last night.”

He smiled widely again, “Are you happy?”

It was the second time you heard that question today. Only now, it had a totally different meaning. Earlier, you were asked “are you happy with me?”. Now, you were being asked if you’re happy, period. Simply, genuinely happy. That was all he would want for you. The answer was the same for both. “I’m the happiest I’ve ever been.” 

His grip in your hand got tighter, the ring almost hurting his milky skin. “Then I’m happy too.” You felt a stubborn, natural urge to cry as those words made their way to your ears. He knew you well enough to know you didn’t like showing that side of you in public, so he spoke again, “Shall we toast?”

You swallowed the tears along with whatever stupid insecurity you had over this moment. You took your glass from the table and raised it, followed by him. “To me finally getting married?”

He laughed, “No. To you being happy.” 

You nodded, heart full of the same love you had for him ever since your first meeting. 

After eating more than you should and sharing a bit too many drinks, you were still by the restaurant having one last round of mimosas. After a sip, you spoke. “Yesterday when I called my mom, and he was in the shower, she asked me something funny which I didn’t really know how to respond to.”

“You, not knowing what to respond? That’s new,” he teased. You always had a remark about everything and everyone. “What did she ask?”

“Why we never dated,” you stated simply. 

The thought of being more than a friend to him crossed your mind a couple of years back. He was a flirty person and the two of you had shared a kiss, and even more, here and there. Still, it was never something with a lot more meaning. Not as far as you knew or thought or felt. Of course, he was interesting, intelligent and impressive. He kept you on your toes and you loved him dearly. But you didn’t know exactly why this never evolved to something more than best friends. And it was not due to lack of outside incentive. Everyone thought you’d date him before you actually got a real, long term boyfriend, to whom you were now engaged and that was one of his close friends. Some still kept that thought, even after both of you were dating. People talked when your current relationship started. They thought he got bitter. They thought he got jealous. You never saw it and if he did feel like that, he never showed it. On the contrary, he was always very supportive. So you thought long and hard on your mother’s question, you just couldn’t come to any real answer. Maybe he, the one who always knows what to say and how to say it and when to say it, would be able to put some clarity to such secrecy.

After a couple of seconds of comfortable silence, he finally spoke. “Do you believe in fate?”

You laughed. Seems like the drinking was starting to get to you. Your cheeks were flushed and you felt funny inside. “I don’t know.” You started to think about it and shared your conclusion. “I believe everything happens as it should.”

Once he was done contemplating, he started explaining. “I love you, so so much.” There was no undisclosed meaning behind his words. He loved you and that was clear for everyone to see. “And I know you love me too.” Everyone knew that too. You had never, not even for a second, hidden that. But love was a shapeshifter. “Still, I don’t think I’m your fate in this life. Seungcheol is.”

You blinked, processing his words. Your mind started to inevitably wonder to the what ifs, to the what might have beens if you were engaged to the one sitting across from you right now. Those thoughts went away as quickly as they came, much like falling stars. Wasn’t that what all possibilities were? Falling scenarios. They seem bright and ideal, but only because you don’t actually have them to see how they’d really be. Or just because you don’t see them often or long enough. And then they vanish and leave a bittersweet taste behind. You wouldn’t dwell on that. You were happy and you wouldn’t waste time thinking on the falling star of this relationship. He wouldn’t want you to do that and you wouldn’t want to do that either. And it wasn’t even a fallen star to begin with. It was exactly how it was supposed to be. It was like home. Still, something lingered. So you asked. You had to know. “Do you think you’ll ever be my fate, Jeonghan?”

He smiled your favorite smile. The one that gave you chills and that made your heart at ease. With a voice as soft as his features, as gentle as his soul, four little, magic and promising words, that would be more than enough for this time being, escaped his lips. “Maybe in another life.” 

a/n: this was supposed to be a piece of a collab with a very talented author, laura. unfortunately, the collab didn’t really happen, but i still wanted to share this piece after cross-checking with laura if she was ok with it. anyways. here’s to finally writing something for jeonghan that’s not absolutely hearbreaking. as always, thank you @yoongitalks​ for being my faithful beta. love you tons! feedback’s always, always appreciated, so feel free to drop some here. hope you’ll like it!

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.11 "From Awful to Even Worse!"

CW: PTSD themes, panic attacks, night terrors, injury mention (past and current), body image/weight mention, blood, disassociation mention, tics/tourrettes, noncon/dubcon/general nsfw language, gunshot wound mention, drugs/cigarettes (explicit), food mention, trauma flashback (explicit) (Let me know if I missed anything!)

Elias was starting to feel Tyson's frustration with him. It had been weeks since he'd gotten back and every time he woke up screaming or have random bouts of panic, Tyson faced it with a tired sigh and a tight hug. He always said "it's ok, I've got you," but it was starting to sound less convincing. Elias could feel it, he was bothersome, he was annoying, Tyson couldn't take care of him anymore. He told himself that Tyson never signed up for this anyway, it wasn't fair to expect him to stick around. So, he grew progressively worse, trying to drown all of the thoughts out with weed, staying in bed for hours after he woke up, too exhausted to stand up and start the day. Everything seemed pointless and dull and grey and scary. He wasn't allowing the cuts scattering his torso and arms to heal, ripping and picking them open every few days. He felt like he deserved the pain and the blood. He was finding that, because he'd been so used to the harshness of his deep red blood on his pale skin and blinding pain, he just wasn't comforted by the healing.

Tyson was only worrying about him even more, absolutely panic ridden and unsure how to help him feel better. He couldn't say anything to soothe him, he couldn't promise wholeheartedly that everything was ok because it wasn't, it was all incredibly fucked. Saying anything else felt wrong though, like telling Elias it would be ok was the only reasonable thing to keep saying. He also kept promising that Elias was safe now, that he wasn't going to be hurt again, because that was one thing he could help control. Tyson was going to make sure that this promise was kept, he would keep Elias safe no matter what it took, as long as he could help it no one would touch him again.

But Elias didn't think he was safe, every bone in his body was screaming that he had to run and hide, that he was going to be beaten any second. This didn't change no matter how much Tyson reassured him that he was safe and protected now. Sometimes it scared him so bad he could only sit in silence, paralyzed by dread of pain that would never come.

Like now, Elias was sitting on the couch wrapped up in blankets, staring off into nothingness, zoned out from the weed and eyes clouded over in thought. As Tyson walked in, he sat a little straighter, looking at him expectantly, like he was trying to please him by sitting pretty.

"Elias?" He asked, kneeling in front of him. Sometimes when he was speaking to Elias he felt like he was holding a candle in front of him and speaking too loud might blow it out and kill him. Something so soft and fragile and so damn close to the edge of breaking all the damn time had to be handled gently, with extreme care. "Would you like to go out with me tonight?"

Elias grinned a little, leaning towards him. Tyson relaxed a great deal, marking the reaction as a small victory. "I'll have to check my schedule," he joked, "I've been pretty busy lately."

With a laugh, Tyson smoothed out the blanket over Elias's shoulder. He was elated to hear him joking, he could buy the boy a cake to celebrate. "You sure you can't spare an hour? Or do you have some more walls to stare at?"

"Where would we go?" Elias retorted.

"Hmm... I was thinking we could get a nice picnic together and go to that spot by the lake...I figure we could go now and get there by sunset." He paused, tilting his head at him. "And I...have some shrooms we could take, if you wanted. We don't have to." He stressed the last part, more than ok with just spending the night with his half-stoned boyfriend, with these little jokes and crooked smiles.

"That sounds like fun. Do I have to change my clothes?" He smiled when Tyson shook his head, then dropped the blanket to stand up. It was a success! Sure, he was going in his pyjamas and Tyson's worn out college hoodie, and he lit up a cigarette as soon as they were in the car, but he was leaving the house! Tyson was able to get him out of the house to go on a date and he was smiling about it.

------------------------------------------

Tyson was right, the lake was lit up with the peach color of the slowly setting sun. The chill breeze bit wonderfully at their cheeks. As they sat on the blanket they splayed out on the grass, Tyson pulled Elias close with one arm, holding his food with the other. He had made sandwiches with peanut butter and the shrooms, and Elias was surprised when he couldn't even taste them. As he stared out over the water and watched the colors change, he felt the world around him pulsing slightly, the air swelling sweetly around him. Even though he knew it was because he'd been so dependent on drugs when he was with August, he was glad to be high again. Maybe he'd be able to get comfortable enough with Tyson again to talk to him. God, he was feeling horrible about how little he'd been talking to him.

"Baby," Tyson said suddenly, pressing his lips against the side of Elias's head, "can I tell you a secret?"

Elias turned to look at him, his face glowing in the setting sun. "Yes?" He breathed. He looked so beautiful, the definition of perfect. Elias couldn't help but reach out to touch him, humming at the pleasant warmth that seemed to melt him from the inside out.

"I am really, really in love with you." As he said it, Tyson pulled him closer to him.

"Oh Tyson...do you mean that?" He breathed, a light blush in his face. The words sounded so beautiful coming from Tyson, he could listen to him say that for the rest of his life. He almost couldn't believe that, after everything, someone could love him, or even convince themselves that they did like he imagined Tyson was. Still, it was nice to be told, nice to be held so close, nice to be high in the arms of someone who touched him with such tenderness. So he allowed it, adored it, when Tyson grinned and pulled him closer and said:

"I do, angel. I love you."

He melted at the way Elias's face lit up with a smile and he kissed him, giggling as Elias melted right into his arms.

Elias felt Tyson lower him to his back on the soft ground, climbing onto him slowly. "Say it again." Elias whimpered, pulling Tyson's shirt hard until he was pressed close to him.

"I," he whispered, kissing his neck softly, "love," another kiss against his jaw, "you," then his cheek, "Elias." He kissed him softly and slowly, smiling at the pleased hum Elias let out.

"I love you too," he gasped, hyper aware of Tyson's arms holding him steady. It was like he could fall off the planet and endlessly tumble through the stars any second, but he was able to stay pressed against the cool earth because of Tyson's arms alone. He was safe, he was held. "I love you so much."

As the lighting around them dimmed to a pale blue, the air chilled until they had no other option but to press close against each other, watching the stars with wide, drugged out eyes and amazed whispers in between kisses. Elias had never felt more loved in his life, every time he looked at Tyson all he could see was the love on his face, it soaked through his clothes everywhere he touched him.

"Ty," Elias said suddenly, sitting up fully to look at him. He looked luminous in the pale moonlight, and Elias found his train of thought stalling as the words fell out of his mouth. "Ty, I want to...I want to um..."

Tyson smiled at him, reaching up and playing with his hair to distract him further. "You're so pretty, Eli." He giggled when Elias let out a flustered sigh and leaned into his touch. It was so easy to discompose him, and it was endlessly entertaining.

"Listen, Tyson. I want to have sex with you." He grabbed the string on Tyson's hoody as he spoke, tugging at it gently. "I wanna give my everything to you."

"Let me tell you something, baby. I don't want to take anything from you. I want to love you whole, in one piece, I don't wanna take parts of you." He sat up as well, tipping Elias's face up towards his own by just a finger under the chin. He watched Elias's eyes flutter at the simple touch, and he was glad to see him so relaxed. He was never this calm when this subject was brought up, and it was almost strange to not see him fidgeting and twitching nervously at Tyson's polite rejection. "I don't want you to think you're giving something to me."

Elias hummed quietly, nodding his head along to whatever it was Tyson was saying. It was hard not to agree, Tyson was so smart and he spoke in such pleasant, melodic tones, why would Elias ever argue with anything he had to say in that sweet voice? Had he before? He scolded himself, told him that Tyson was the best and never again would Elias disagree with him. "You're so good to me," he whispered, "God, I could listen to you talk forever."

With a laugh, Tyson let his lips fall against Elias's softly, enjoying the way he sunk into the kiss.

They only stayed out by the lake for a bit later, until it was too dark and too cold to warm each other up effectively. Elias was elated the entire walk back to the car, chattering happily and occasionally ticcing against Tyson's grip. "Oh, you know what would be so great right now?" He asked, not waiting for Tyson to answer. "We should go home and take a really warm shower. Doesn't that sound nice?"

"It does sound nice. We'll do that as soon as we get home, ok?" He rubbed Elias's shoulder gently, then helped him get in the car. As they drove, they kept the windows down and let the cold air keep them grounded, Elias had one hand slung out of the window and one on Tyson's thigh. Life was so perfect and so beautiful and Elias simply understood where he was and who he was, for the first time probably ever. Tyson kept peering over at him with pure adoration on his face, trying his hardest to remember to keep his eyes on the road. But Elias had been gone for so long, and he was absolutely glowing in the streetlights they passed, and Tyson never ever wanted to look away from him. He would sacrifice everything, forfeit the rest of his vision if it meant he could look at Elias always. Hell, he would sacrifice all of his senses if only he could ever only touch, taste, hear, see, and breathe Elias. He would be content, he would never get sick of it. Elias was everything, absolutely nothing else mattered when he was looking at Elias.

"Eyes on the road, Ty," Elias laughed, watching Tyson flush and snap his gaze back to the road. "You're so beautiful. Very endearing." He ticced, wolf-whistled, and then it was his turn to blush and turn his head to look out the window, at the passing trees.

To his surprise, Tyson reached over and grabbed his thigh, squeezing it gently as he chuckled to himself. "And you," he said pointedly, stealing another glance at the seemingly stunned Elias, his eyes were so wide, borderline apprehensive, and Tyson tried to soak in that look on his face before looking back at the road, "are adorable. Just... breathtakingly attractive."

Elias blushed further, but instead of shying away he pulled Tyson's hand up to his face, kissing softly at his fingertips, then the palm of his hand.

"Elias, angel," Tyson breathed, "if you keep doing that I'll never look away from you."

Now it was Elias's turn to laugh, allowing Tyson's hand to fall from his grasp and down to his jaw. He allowed it to rest their for a moment, then dropped it to the nape of his neck and massaging against him gently. It was pure, just because he liked it, Elias always felt that way. He could feel when August was touching him with underlying motivation, hidden threats in every pretend comforting touch. Tyson's hands on him always felt natural, like "where else would they be?" kind of natural. And it was everything Elias could ask for and more.

Once they were actually home and in the bathroom, Elias felt a creeping uneasiness about Tyson seeing his body. He suddenly remembered how mutilated and messed up he was, his cuts were barely healing, the bruises an even uglier color than when he first came back. He remembered how even seeing himself without clothes in the mirror was gut wrenching, made him want to throw up from anxiety and disgust. If he was there when all of it happened and even he was repulsed, there was no way Tyson seeing it all for the first time would be a delightful experience. If he didn't think he was ruined and ugly before, by some miracle, he certainly would after this. What happened to the beauty he saw in everything moments ago? Where was it now, when he was looking at himself? His aching need to be closer to Tyson overshadowed those fears, made him week in the knees with waves of longing, he could not spend another second with his mind mentally screaming to Tyson "touch me oh god please please put your hands on me in some way I can't breathe without you" and so he was forcing himself to pull nervously at the strings of his hoodie in attempt to convince himself to take it off.

"Tyson we gotta hurry," he rushed, "I have to do it before I freak myself out." He avoided looking in the mirror, eyes darting nervously around. A soft whimper of surprise passed his lips when Tyson grabbed the bottom of his hoodie and pulled him flush against his body. His breath smelled like weed and mint, Elias noticed. When did he smoke? Why didn't Elias notice? And was he chewing gum? Elias dropped his eyes down to his jaw, which was flexing as he chewed on the gum. Elias blushed when he thought about taking it from him, sharing that taste.

"It's alright love," Tyson whispered, "you don't need to be freaked out, I've got you. We'll do it at your pace."

Elias took a deep breath to calm himself down, looking up at Tyson with the rosiness still hanging on his face. "Ok just...just don't say anything when you see. Please."

Tyson answered him by kissing gently at his neck, holding him close still. Slowly, he let go of the hoodie and slipped his hand underneath, until his fingertips brushed against his hip softly. He paused, waiting to see if Elias was alright. He could feel his skin react to the touch, feel his breathing falter at the sheer skin on skin contact alone. After he relaxed, Tyson slowly wrapped his fingers around his waist, his thumb brushing against the sharp edge of his hip bone. He knew he was thin, but had it gotten this bad with August? He had been hiding in huge hoodies the past few days, the only idea Tyson had of how small he'd gotten was hugging him close, and even that wasn't the best gauge. Now that he was feeling him, up close and personal, he could feel just how run down he'd become. He almost made a remark about it, and then he remembered being asked not to say anything, so he ignored it.

"You ok?" He said instead, turning his head only slightly towards him. His mouth was parted just a bit, his eyes screwed shut. Tyson noticed Elias was hesitantly grabbing his shirt, seemingly unsure what to do with hands.

"Yeah, I'm good. I'm good." Elias reached up and looped his arm around Tyson's neck to get closer, deciding that was how to get as close to Tyson as possible, so maybe he wouldn't be able to see all of his injuries. His voice had a slight tremble to it, but Elias was holding onto him so tightly it didn't feel right to pull away and see if he was really good.

Tyson paused for a second longer, then slid his hand lightly up his rib cage. He let it rest there a moment before slipping his other hand under too, and then he stepped away just enough to pull Elias's sweatshirt over his head. He dropped it to the ground carelessly, taking Elias in, in all his abused glory.

Nearly every inch of his torso was scattered with bruises of varying color and he had cuts all over. Most of the ones on his arms were short and close together, but the ones on his chest looked more like someone tried to perform an autopsy on him while he was still conscious and thrashing. Tyson remembered a particular video of Elias secured to the bed with a couple of belts, August was carving into his chest slowly, purposefully, until Elias would shriek and writhe to try and escape the pain. He finally saw the large, barely healing wound on his shoulder, where he must've been shot, like he was telling Tyson one night. He probably should've gotten it stitched up, but it's not like August could have taken him on a day trip to the ER and get him fixed up before taking him home, good as new. So instead, it would be a huge, jagged scar that would remind him only of the fear and confusion of that day. There were even places along his ribs and collar bones he could see bruises in the faint outline of a hand. The amount of agony and screaming and begging for mercy that had to have gone along with each injury made Tyson physically upset, he noticed his hands were suddenly shaky. Tears of frustration with August and himself filled his eyes, and he tipped his head back to collect his thoughts.

"Oh god, is it that bad?" Elias whimpered, stepping away from him and dropping to his knees to grab his hoodie again. Now, from his place on the floor, Tyson could see his spine, where there was a larger, darker bruise in the center of his back. It just kept getting worse. "This was a horrible fucking idea. Ugh, dammit-" Elias couldn't get the hoodie on, with his nervously fumbling hands, and suddenly Tyson was there on the floor with him. He grabbed Elias's wrists and turned him toward him, shocking him with the quickness and how aggressively he was holding his arms. Elias's heart was pounding in his chest as he flinched away from Tyson's too tight grip, the way he was shaking as he held him still made Elias's throat close up.

"Elias. Elias I need you to know how sorry I am, baby," he choked out, loosening his grip around his wrists as he saw the fear scribbled on his face. "I'm so sorry I didn't do more to protect you or-or find you-"

"Tyson," Elias breathed, pulling one of his hands away to wipe his tears, "it's... not your fault."

"I never wanted you to get hurt." He shook his head, looking away from Elias altogether. He couldn't bare to see the fear on his face, the marks on his body. Not when he could have done more to prevent it. Not when Elias wouldn't be in such horrible shape if Tyson was just a little faster and stronger and more brave, if he had just been able to stop them from taking him away.

After a long pause, Elias leaned away from him and propped himself up on the wall, pulling his knees up to his chest. He felt rather hopeless, but he should've expected it. He was ugly and ruined now, how could he seriously expect Tyson to be attracted to him? He was someone else's used up toy, Tyson deserved more than that. He deserved more than all the cuts and bruises and fear. He couldn't cry, not that he didn't want to, so he just ended up dropping his head to his hands just to hide away for a bit. He didn't want to see the bitter look on Tyson's face, he didn't want to see him looking at anything else in the bathroom to avoid having to look at him and the extent of all his disgusting damage.

"Eli I'm sorry," Tyson began saying, reaching out to rub his shoulder softly, "I shouldn't have reacted that way. I thought I could handle this better."

Elias let out a short, sarcastic laugh, shrugging him off. "I get it. I'm damaged goods now, hard not to be put off."

"Don't say that. You're perfect, I'm just...I didn't know it was that bad." He sighed as he leaned against the wall next to Eli, keeping his hands to himself now. "Does it hurt still?"

"Yeah, it all does. Especially my hand." He held it out in front of him, splaying his fingers to show Tyson the healing injury. Every time he looked at this hand, he remembered the unbearable pain he felt when it was broken. He remembered having to force himself to keep it still, having to look away so he wouldn't have to see the damage happening, holding his breath because the pain was so intense his body just forgot how to work. "He broke it with a hammer when I tried to get away."

Tyson stared at it with a vague look of horror, then gently took his wrist and pulled him forward to press his lips lightly against the worst of the bruise. He looked up at Elias to see him staring at him with a small look of apprehension, worried his feather soft touches would turn painful any second. Instead, he continued to kiss on every bruise he could see, starting at his wrist and moving all the way up to his shoulder. "I've got you now, angel," his voice was just a low mumble as he spoke, "no one's gonna hurt you anymore."

Elias somehow ended up on his back on the bathroom floor, his hands gripping tightly at Tyson's shirt as he held him, his mouth pressed against all the injuries on his stomach, his arms holding him close. He tugged at Tyson's shirt until he was hovering directly over him, amused grin on his face. Tyson closed the small distance between them to kiss his neck gently, enjoying the soft gasp he let out.

"You sound so pretty like that, Eli," he whispered against his skin. When Elias pulled him closer, he ended up getting a little carried away, leaving hickeys on his neck and grinding against him softly. In the back of his mind, he was scolding himself for having let it get this far, pleading to not push it anymore, to stop while he was ahead. Elias wasn't healed yet, he had to remember. And even though he sounded so beautiful, oh God Tyson felt like he was listening to a perfect symphony with every moan and bothered whine he let out, this would probably only cause more damage. I should stop, he thought, I have to stop before I break him all over again. But he couldn't help it, Elias sounded so pleased at everything he did so he just kept doing it. He didn't sound on the verge of breaking, really, this was the happiest Tyson remembered him sounding since he got back. Until Elias suddenly let go of his shirt and pushed his trembling hands against his chest.

"P-please, no more," he was stammering desperately, tears streaming down his face that Tyson hadn't even notice. "I can't handle anymore, please let me rest, August."

Tyson sat up quickly, watching as Elias pushed himself up against the wall, covering his mouth with his hands. He was suddenly so scared, his eyes so faraway, looking somewhere else entirely, a different time, place, different person. He really thought Tyson was August. "Eli, baby, it's me." He whispered, grabbing onto Elias's wrist.

"No, stop!" Elias cried, flinching away from him further. "I want to go home! Let me go!"

As Tyson watched him, he realized he was probably having a flashback because of the shrooms, and he relaxed. He could handle this, as long as he could just get Elias to calm down for a second. He just had to not focus on how his heart broke when Elias said that, begged to go home. Had he said that to August before? Things were so awful he was crying to be allowed to leave. And Tyson was too pathetic to save him from that. "Elias, look at me, angel," he tried, frowning when he was only met with sobs. He thought he was August, so how would August get him to pay attention? "I asked you to look at me, Eli." He pressed. He made his voice firm, trying not to cross the line and freak him out more.

Elias caved in on himself further, his whole body trembling in fear, genuine fear that he was going to be hurt any second. He could already feel it before it came, just like always. It had gotten to a point where he could decipher whatever he was doing wrong and how he would be punished for it. It was his only way to somewhat prepare himself for any pain. Right now he was waiting to feel August grabbing him tightly and throw him to the ground or shove him against the wall and take what he wanted more violently than he should. Elias was so afraid of the pain, so August made sure that his fears weren't irrational and he would really hurt him then. That's how it usually went, anyway, or something like that.

"Please don't," he begged as he felt warm fingertips against his ribs, "please don't hurt me, I'll be good. I promise I'll be good." To his surprise, the hands didn't force him down or drag him out of the room, instead he felt himself enveloped into gentle, careful arms. August didn't usually hold him, not unless they were super high. He stopped that after he realized Elias enjoyed more than he should have. He stayed rigid and shaking, but he didn't pull away from him. He'd already made things worse for himself, why add another reason to be punished?

"You are being good, Eli," he was assured, the arms growing tight around him, "really, you're doing very well. But I want you to calm down, can you do that for me?"

Elias closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. In his head, he counted to ten. Why was he even crying still? Why was it taking him so long to calm down? He hadn't been hurt yet, at all, and now he was being held far more tenderly than he deserved. Only he could find a reason to flip out at something that should be nice. Or, nicer than in the past, anyway. With each second, he sunk deeper into the tight hug, holding August's forearm and pulling him closer. "Ok," he whispered, "I'm calm. D-do you have to take pictures this time? The flash freaks me out."

Tyson pulled him closer, too upset by the question to answer. He'd seen a few pictures, been sent a few videos, but he'd told himself those were isolated occasions, that August only did it once in awhile to antagonize him. But the way Elias made it seem, the pictures were taken often, at least often enough to give Elias a fear of the flash. He realized there were pictures and videos no one had seen, August probably had them for his own sick pleasure and amusement. Finally, he shook his head, mouth set in a grim line. "No, no pictures this time. Just relax."

[tricewithaz]

Ok Trice, seeing as your the only adult is person I know, eyeliner is scary, but my classmate said I had great eye shape for it and I should try it. I asked my mom and she was just sooooooo helpful and said “you take off the can and the. Grab your phone and then ask the internet” so now I’m asking you seeing as you

Omg you came to the right place 👁️👄👁️ i love eyeliner and eye makeup and ive been doing it for so long jebrbr

Beware theres A LOT

Lets start with basic products alright. It depends on the style you want but the very basics are: liquid eyeliner (i had the kiko liquid black liner ). Just make sure it has a lot of coverage and dries really dark. Also pencil eyeliner, you want one that is sort of creamy. I reccomend getting a brown and a black one. And youll probably want a neutrals palette too. Make sure it has all sorts of browns and black. it doesnt have to be pure black but its nice to have one. And with this palette youre gonna want a small flat angled and probably (but not necessarily) fluffy brush like these

Again, it all depends on the style. Liquid eyeliner is much more precise and bold. It can be quite dramatic. For a good sharp eyliner youre gonna want to trace a line from the corner of your eye to the end of your eyebrow. You can sketch it with eyeshadow or put a tape where you wsnt your eyeliner to make sure you dont draw over it. The way i do it is hovering over the line i would want as if i was drawing it then actually start to draw it on the end of it (you can honestly make it as long as you want. A shorter one gives a sweeter image) and go back to the eye pressing the brush (remember the brush needs to be pointy). The trick is having a confident short stroke. And dont worry you can always tweak it with concealer or makeup remover and a qtip. Its also easy to take a cotton pad, dab it in makeup remover and fold it to the middle then press it to the overdrawn eyeliner you want to get rid of.

A pencil eyeliner is ideal for your waterline. You just open your eye a bit with your hand and paint it in. You dont have to do it but it does give a dramatic look. Depending of the creaminess of the pencil you might be able to do the cat eye too. You can paint a blob on the corner of your eye and extend it outward with the flat brush and inward with the fluffy one. But its not the best tecnique foe this i normally use eyeshadow.

So EYESHADOW. Doingeyeliner with eyeshadow normally gives a softer look,although you can make it look bold and graphic if the pigment is good enough (and if you dont have bright eyeliner you can take your fave color eyeshadow and do it with that). So for this what i dois take the flat brush,dab it in a bit of water and take pigment and then just press it to the corner of my eye in the angle i want and do a big stroke. Then do the same inward and fill it in if necessary. If you want bold graphic liner tho (and you dont want or odnt have liquid liner) you should take a very small brush like this (it doesnt need to be specifically a makeup brush,get one made for paint its super cheap and made for precision)

You can wet it and make sure its pointy and ready to paint with your fingers, then dab it in whatever color you want. And just as with the liquid eyeliner, start where you want it to end and use bold confident strokes!

If you want a bit of depth with your eyeliner (you should do this before the actual eyeliner) take the fluffy brush and dab it in a dark brown color (this needs to be darker than your skin) then apply a bit to the corner of your eye and blend it. You can do it upward and in the direction of your eyelid or on the direction of the eyeliner,it looks good either way.

And the most fun part is the inner corner! You can do this in the middle of the eyelid too. The safest option is a shimmery pearl white or gold (gold pops so well on dark skin and gives a sort of sun warm look) but if you wanna go rogue take a really bold color (i would avoid blue tho cause most pigments end up looking sort of greenish and dull on the skinits really hard to find a *good* blue)and just apply it to the inner corner. You can just use your finger,the fluffy brush to blend it into your lid or a flat round brush to do just that. Make sure the color you choose is either a bright/saturated color, (like pink or yellow,doesnt matter if its matte or shimmery) light shimmery one or ome that has a light second tone (the neon w7 green palette has a brown/green shimmery tone that is just beautiful).

You can also do your lower lash line with a flat brush! Just follow the lashline up to the outer corner. Brown and black look cool (and you can always do the reverse eyeliner and merge it with the cat eye) bur irs also really fun and cute to use bold colors.

You can also go further and do the whole foxy eye thing by just drawing a line into your inner corner following your actual eye. I find this a bit hard (the bridge of my nose is too wide) but you can try. Youll achieve the same effect drawing into it with the pencil liner the same way you do your waterline.

TL:DR,get yourself black and brown liquis liner,pencil liner and eyeshadow and a flat angled small brush and draw that line to yoour eyebrow as long as you want.

Well that was EXTENSIVE, but i hope it was helpful!!! Sorry i just have a lot of thoughts about eyeliner lmao. But have a lot of fun and dont be affraid to experiment!!

[writefightandflightclub]

Operation H.U.G

What is this? This is 3 of 14 short prompt requests I’ll be writing as part of my 500 follower celebration! See my call-out for requests (now closed… unless you’re desperate!) and credit for prompt list creators here.

What is the prompt? “Can I request “I just wanna lay in your arms for the rest of my life.” With Poe? Just absolute tooth rotting fluff! Thank youuuu 💖💖💖” Lovely to try and write some fluff with Poe again. Thanks Anon for a super sweet request and I hope this is what you were looking for!

Author’s note: I don’t think for a second this is my best writing, but hoping the general concept is cute enought to distract from that. Not sure if it’s tooth-rotting fluff, but hopefully a sweet treat all the same. Sorry if bits of it are dumb, I always try my best, what can I say.

Word count: I failed on my 500 word limit AGAIN. NO SUPRISE THERE. But getting slightly closer- this is 1283 words.

Warnings: Pure fluff, sweeties.

GIF: By @poewingsdameron​ <3

“Ok, I have a very serious mission for you, Major.”

“What is it Commander?” you snicker, and his eyes scold you for it.

“We must find the optimal snuggle position. The fate of the Resistance depends upon it.” His thick brows knit together, his full lips pinched as he tries his best to look Very Serious Indeed.

Poe delights as you guffaw into his shoulder, a warm smile replacing the mock solemnity on his face.

You are enjoying a rare, blissful morning in bed with your boyfriend. The lumpy Resistance-issue mattress has never felt so comfortable. You have never been so glad to linger between the starchy, scratchy sheets a few hours longer than necessary. That fact has everything to do with Poe, who, until a moment ago had been silently cradling you in his strong, warm arms, pulling you in closely, his relaxed breathing in sync with the rise and fall of your own chest.

You pull away just a fraction to get a better look at his face, tracing your fingers over his jaw, through his textured curls, around the shell of his ear. He snaps his teeth towards you then with a snarl, like a puppy about to nip you. “Hands off my beefsteaks!” he teases. Yeah, about that; it’s a whole thing, ok? Maybe one time you had called his earlobes beefsteaks, because they were just so meaty and so good to nip between your teeth while your mouth happened to be playing at the junction of his neck. You smile, fondly remembering his delicious, hearty laugh the first time you had used the word. And he hasn’t let it go since.

You playfully boop him on the nose like you would a mischievous puppy. “And what exactly is wrong with this snuggle position?

“This one’s great, honey, but my right arm’s going numb.” He gets a hopeful, inspired look, which you thought was only reserved for the briefing room, or X-Wing chat, or thinking up creative ways to surprise you. “I think we can do even better. I believe in us. We are the ones to get the job done.” The outer corners of his lips bend into an even more playful smile.

You set your jaw, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Your eyes flash with what you hope is a convincing level of determination. “For the Resistance?” you ask, mock earnestly.

He grins and lolls on to his back. “For the Resistance. Do your worst, baby.”

You quirk an eyebrow at him “ You still talking about snuggling, Commander?”

“Major, you better start taking this mission seriously. Lives are at stake.”

Your shoulders shake with a gentle chuckle, and you survey him, considering your options. You shuffle closer, slotting yourself into his side, flinging one leg over his. Your hand slips underneath his soft sleep shirt, searching out the warmth of his smooth skin, your fingertips now tracing over his chest.

He takes a slow, deep breath, in and out again.

“Well?” you press, looking for a verdict.

“No good. I need you to come here.”

“I am here, what do you mean, Poe?” your laugh lilts across his chest.

“Not enough snuggles. Need more snuggles.” His tone is playfully petulant. You tip your head up to look up at him, and he crushes his chin into his neck to get a better look at you. “Mission on track to fail, I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Oh, this isn’t enough snuggles for you?”

“Nuh-uh.”

Poe loves affection. he loves touching you. Holding you. You’re not complaining. There’s no better feeling than being in his arms. “Poor, sweet puppy. Let me help you.”

You fling your leg further over his hips, coming to straddle him, knees folded and your thighs pinned tight to his sides.

His hands instantly hook around your waist, thumbs kneading steady, reassuring circles into you. His eyes glow as he looks up at you, a smile blooming across his face as he gives his head a soft, disbelieving shake. “Maker. Have I told you today that you’re gorgeous?”

You smile so widely that your cheeks hurt, hardly believing how lucky you are. You fold to press a gentle kiss to his lips. “Several times, Poe.” Then, you bend your body all the way forwards, hooking your forearms under his shoulders, enclosing him in the most complete, tightest cuddle you can. His arms envelop around you and he hums into your neck. You send kisses to wherever you can reach, along his collarbone, into the tangle of his hair. You breathe him in. That Poe smell. And you feel him relax into it with a contented sigh, his hands now rubbing loving circles over your back.

“How’s this, baby?” you ask softly.

He hums and you feel the rumble of it in his chest, the steady, soporific beat of his heart as you press against him. “It’s perfect. I could lay in your arms all day.”

You make a contented noise, the sound muffling into his neck.

You wonder if this could even be mission complete (is he falling asleep again?) but within no time at all he begins to wriggle under you. The Resistance must be doomed, you’ve both failed again.

“You could lay here all day... but?”

“But I’m overheating. Sorry, boops.” That pet name tugs at your heart in that familiar way and you suddenly know what he means. You want to cuddle him more. Maybe you can just cuddle enough that you merge into each other and become one single snuggly blob. Reluctantly, you roll away to the side, giving him some necessary breathing room, and taking him with you in a tangle of limbs.

Now, you are almost face-to-face with him, looking right into his dazzling, warm eyes, mingled together in this delicious embrace.

Wait... this is a particularly delicious embrace.

“This is the one!” Your eyes widen, announcing your perceived success. “Right, baby? This is the one!”

He looks deeply into your eyes, his eyes as soft as you’ve ever seen them, the glow lighting up his whole face.

“The one. Yeah.” He bites into his pillowy bottom lip.

“So, is his Lordship finally comfortable now?” you tease, a little thrown off, if you’re honest, by this look he’s giving you. Like he has a wonderful secret you don’t know yet and his heart is bursting to tell you.

He brings his palm up to caress the side of your face and you close your eyes, humming as you lean into his touch. 

“Oh yeah. In fact... I think I could lay in your arms for the rest of my life.”

Your eyes flick open, and you feel like you should be smiling, but something about the intensity in his eyes, the love in his voice makes your breath stall in your chest.

“What do you say, boops?”

You gulp, though you’re not quite sure why.

“Yeah, it’s pretty comfy, Poe.” Why is there a wobble in your voice?

His eyes sparkle like liquid starlight. “Honey, I’m serious. I could lay with you for the rest of my life.” Why is there a wobble in his voice too? As if his heart has cracked so that more love can squeeze in.

Why are you crying? Why is your heart set to burst?

When he says your name next you swear you’ve never heard anything quite so sweet. That is, until the two words which follow.

“Marry me?” A tear spills out of his own face and on to the pillow as you say yes, a resounding yes. And he crushes his lips to yours, smiling against you. Holding you even closer. Even tighter.

Yes, this is it. This is the best snuggle you’ve ever had.

Operation H.U.G status report?

Mission complete.

And just like every other you’d run together, it was a resounding success.

Just one thing; you think General Leia might be particularly shocked when you deliver the debrief.

[jobean12-blog]

Hello! Can I request something really angsty? Like maybe one where Bucky can feel that his best girl is falling out of love with him and can see her getting close with someone else? Maybe written from his POV? (But the ending is all up to you 👌😁)

Anesthesia 

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Word Count: 1,700

Summary: Bucky feels like his girl is falling out of love with him, he’s struggling but thankfully a friend helps him see the light. 

Author’s Note: Thank you for this request and most importantly thank you for your patience with me, sorry it took so long! I went pretty angsty here and I hope you like it. I’ve been listening to a lot of Type O Negative the past few days so the title is from one of their songs called ‘Anesthesia’ and it definitely gave me some inspiration. It does end on a happy note because I have to do that haha! Thank you all for reading! Much love❤❤❤

Warnings: some fluff with Sam, lots of angsty Bucky and Steve, Bucky feeling like he isn’t enough, but a happy ending! :) 

With your arm thrown around Sam you walk into the kitchen in search of a snack. You grab the Oreos and some milk, explaining to Sam that the only way to eat them is dunked in milk. “What about twisting the tops off and eating the cream first?!?” Sam asks in disbelief. “Nah, they get all gooey with the milk and then you can drink it and it tastes like Oreos,” you tell him.

Sam’s smile is wide as he watches you stuff a whole milk-dunked-Oreo in your mouth. “Yummmmm,” you mumble through your mouthful just as you catch Bucky walking in. “Hey babe,” you say, a little more clearly this time, “want an Oreo?”

Bucky looks from you to Sam and back to you, trying to keep a smile on his face, “um, nah that’s ok, we are going to dinner in 5 minutes, remember?” You gulp down the rest of your bite, eyes slightly downcast as you reply, “shit, Buck, I completely forgot. Sam and I just had a bite before. But if you want, I’d be happy to come sit with you.”

You give him a hopeful look, wishing you could see anything other than the sad look in his eyes.  “It’s ok, I’ll see if Steve is around,” he says quietly, turning and walking out. “Wow, you’re right, y/n, these really are good with milk,” Sam says, clearly trying to diffuse the tension. You barely manage a smile in Sam’s direction, “told ya so,” you say before bidding Sam goodbye and heading to your room.

Bucky’s POV

Bucky’s fingers fly over his cell phone screen, ‘hey Steve, you around, wanna catch a bite, I need to get out.’ He stands with his hip cocked against the doorframe, jaw clenched, and his hat pulled down over his face. He’s not even hungry anymore, he just needs to be away from here.

His phone pings with Steve’s reply and he lets out a deep breath, heading for the door and a reliable shoulder to lean on. As the brisk city air fills his lungs and pinches his cheeks it’s as if he is feeling alive for the first time in too long. He’s emotionally stunned, either everything feels wrong or he feels nothing at all.

He finds Steve sitting in their usual booth in the back. With long strides he reaches him quickly, sitting across the table, eyes brimming with all the emotions he’s working through. “What is it Buck?” Steve asks, his concern evident. At first Bucky just stares at his hands wrung together in his lap, the words on the tip of his tongue but trapped by some invisible hold.

Steve’s patience is something Bucky has always needed and right now Steve has it in abundance as they sit in silence while the minutes continue to stretch on.  Bucky finally glances up at Steve, the look in his eyes nearly breaking him, “she’s falling out of love with me.”

Steve pinches the bridge of nose, sitting quietly before speaking, “Buck… are you sure that’s...” Bucky cuts him off before he can finish the sentence, the words now freely flying off his tongue, “Steve, I know what you’re gonna say. That it’s my insecurities and I’m projecting. But she was with Sam again today and they went out to eat even though she had plans with me. She said she completely forgot and it’s just not like her. I don’t know…”

His voice trails off as the waitress shows up to take their orders. Steve leans over the table, forcing Bucky to look him in the eyes, “have you spoken to her about this?” Bucky lets out an audible sigh, his shoulders slumping under an invisible weight, “no.” “And, in my defense, she’s never available to talk. Every time I try to get the words out, we are interrupted by someone, mostly Sam these days and it just feels like she doesn’t see it.”

“Doesn’t see what, Buck?” Steve asks, making him sigh once again. “That I’m losing her. That every breath I take is a regret, that I’m failure and I want to run and hide. What’s keeping her here, what do I have to offer?” Bucky finishes the last sentence in a pained whisper just as the waitress returns with their food.

Steve clears his throat and smiles up at her, “thanks, doll, we’re all set.” She nods with pink cheeks and leaves them alone once again as Steve watches Bucky push the food around his plate. “Listen to me. And you listen good, Buck. I’m the last person to deny you time to live in your doubts. I get it. But I’m not gonna let you die there. You are and always have been enough, for me, for y/n, for all of us. You’re the only one that has trouble seeing it.”

Bucky pins him with a hard stare, “then why is she always with Sam?” The question is laced with venom, something Bucky never wanted to taste but it’s as if it’s the only thing he knows now. “Have you thought that maybe it’s because you’re pulling away and you’re not talking to her!!!” Steve retorts, tone harsh if only to get his point across. Bucky visibly flinches and Steve immediately softens, “I’m sorry Buck, I just…I know how you get and if you’re not talking to her then how do you know she isn’t thinking the same thing as you?”

Bucky drags his hand down his face, plainly defeated, “I’m so scared, Steve, what if she doesn’t want to deal with me, with all this,” he motions to himself. “Sometimes I wish I never knew what it was like, ya know, ignorance is bliss.” Steve frowns, “what do you mean Buck?”

“Maybe it would be easier if I never knew how special she was, her heart, her laugh, smile, the smell of her skin, the feel of her lips…maybe I don’t need love.” Steve clenches his jaw and stands abruptly, dragging Bucky up by his collar, “don’t you talk like that. None of it is true, not one word of it. You deserve love and you deserve her. Don’t you run and hide, you’re not a coward and your options are exhausted. You know what you have to do”

The look in Steve’s eyes startles Bucky, making him stand a bit straighter. He grabs Steve’s wrist, grip tight and strong, “I do,” he grits out, “but I’m so scared.” Steve smiles for the first time since they have been together, “hasn’t ever stopped you before.” The light finally reaches Bucky’s eyes as all that Steve has said starts to sink in, “you’re right.”

They leave the restaurant; both sets of wide shoulders held a bit higher and a purpose in Bucky’s steps. He can do this. He must. Their walk back to the tower is quiet, nothing more needing to be said. Before parting ways, Steve pulls Bucky into a tight hug, “I’m with you, buddy,” he says and Bucky smiles, replying, “till the end of the line, punk.”

Bucky searches for you, first looking in your shared room but finding it empty. He even goes to see Sam, thinking you might be with him again. You aren’t and Sam explains he hasn’t seen you since having Oreos. Bucky feels his chest tighten with anxiety, a million questions flying through his mind. Did you leave? Are you with someone else now? Do you not want to see him?

Taking a deep breath to clear his head he does his best to shake off the negative thoughts and squares his shoulders. Standing alone in the quiet hallway he considers all the places you might be. It finally dawns on him and he takes off with a run toward the elevator.

Running down the streets of NYC toward Central Park, Bucky doesn’t stop to take a breath, not that he needs to, he just needs to get to you. You’re all he needs to breathe. Rounding the fence, he heads toward a secluded spot with a large collection of glacial rocks. He spots you right away, sitting atop the boulders on a blanket, seemingly lost in thought.

As if you can sense his presence you turn and look down, your eyes catching his and in that moment you understand. Your surroundings melt away and the only thing you see is Bucky climbing toward you, his blue eyes brimming with tears. You stand and open your arms as he makes one last push, grabbing you and crushing you to his chest.

Neither of you speak for some time, just holding each other, the feel of his warm body against yours allowing you to finally take a deep breath. His shirt is stained with your tears and you feel the wetness along his cheeks when he finally brings his mouth to your skin and kisses you all over. “I love you; I love you; I love you,” he whispers against your lips.

“Bucky…,” you pull back to look him in the eyes, “I love you, I’m so in love with you, I’m sorry.” He wipes away a stray tear with his thumb, cradling your face in his large hands, “no, no, I’m sorry. I let myself get stuck in a dark place and didn’t allow you to follow. You, the only light that always brings me back.”

Grabbing his wrists, you kiss him, holding on like your life depends on it. And it does. You tell him so, tell him you can’t live without him, every piece of him, especially the damaged parts. You love them the most. The weight of your words makes him feel lighter than he ever has, his heart nearly beating out of his chest.

He sits down on the cool rocks, the sun setting behind the trees of Central park. Bucky has you cradled in his lap, your head against his chest as you listen to the now steady beat of his heart. You’ve both exhausted all your words, for now, nothing more to be said. Bucky kisses the top of your head and you look up into his eyes, watching as the last rays of the sun disappear behind blue.

@book-dragon-13 @chuuulip @eurynome827 @hiddles-rose @ikaris-whore @itsunclebucky @jhangelface0523 @jewelofwinter @jewels2876 @loricameback @littleredstarfish @littledarlinhavefaithinme @mushyjellybeans @marvelgirl7 @marvelandotherfandomimagines @randomfandompenguin @sallycanwait68 @softpeachbarnes @when-the-hell-is-bucky

[sometimesiwritebadly]

Rehearsal (Peter Parker x Reader)

Summary: Peter and you have to rehearse a scene for your theatre class, which just so happens to have a kiss in it. (Gender neutral reader!)

Prompts: 1. “Why would you do this?” 22. “This is the part where you kiss me.”

Warnings: good old fashioned fluff

Note: Lol this one kinda got away from me. I used a random number generator to choose the prompts and only expected this to be like 800 words max but I ended up with over 2k so. but I really like what I ended up with so I hope y’all do too <3 mostly from Peter’s POV btw. oh and I tried to keep it gender neutral but it’s natural for me to write with a female reader so let me know if I accidentally left a few she’s/her’s in there.

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

Peter Parker is a nerd. He’s good at science and math, which is why he’s attending Midtown School of Science and Technology. Despite the STEM focus the school has, there’s still a requirement for at least one art-related class in order to graduate. When Peter chose an entry level Theatre class, he hoped it would focus more on the study of famous plays than actually having to stand on a stage and act. Peter was very, very wrong. For the first assignment of the semester, students had to pair up and perform a short, dramatic piece. He had been paired with Y/N Y/L/N, who he had a minor crush on. Ok, major crush. After he and MJ broke up last year, he honestly didn’t think he’d find anyone else for a while. But then Y/N transferred to Midtown, and he was whipped right from the start. 

“Look man, you gotta use this opportunity to make a move!” Peter and Ned were walking down the hallway between classes, Ned trying to convince Peter again that this was a great chance to finally tell Y/N how he feels. “Just look up some cute scene for the two of you to perform! It’ll be like when Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie fell in love on set!”

“I’m pretty sure they broke up, Ned.”

“Whatever. The point stands.”

The pair approached their lockers, where you were waiting. You had a few papers in your hand, which held your attention until you noticed Peter in front of you.

“H-hey. What’s up?” Peter tried his best to contain his stutter, but couldn’t help it. Y/N just had that effect on him.

“Hey Pete, I, um, I found some potential scripts for us to use for our assignment. I thought you could look over them before we rehearse at mine on Friday? I like them all, so whichever you wanna go with is fine...although I did put a star next to my favorite piece.” You handed half of the papers you were holding to Peter, keeping copies of each script for yourself. Peter noticed that the copies you kept had already been highlighted and annotated, while his were straight from the printer. Except for the small star at the top of the first script in his stack. Before Peter could respond, the warning bell began to ring, signaling only a minute to get to your next class. “Just text me whichever one you want, and we can walk to my place after school tomorrow to rehearse.” You said this as you began to walk away, giving Peter and Ned a small wave before you turned around to race to your final class of the day. 

~~~

Instead of paying attention to his teacher’s lecture during Chemistry, Peter spent the 50 minute period reading through the scripts you had chosen. Peter already knew he wanted to perform the script you liked, but he was nervous. Your favorite scene happened to be the only one which called for a kiss, but he didn’t know if he had the guts to go for it. He could easily choose either of the other scenes and call it a day, but...well, was this your way of making a move? Had you intentionally chosen the script with a kiss to find out if Peter liked you? Did you like him? Or did you just choose that one because you genuinely thought it was the best option?

The bell rang, interrupting Peter’s thoughts and signaling the end of the school day. Hopefully a few hours of swinging through the streets of New York would be enough to distract Peter from thinking about you all night. For once, Peter was actually hoping New York criminals would keep him busy.

~~~

When Peter slipped through the window of his bedroom, his thoughts were unsurprisingly still revolving around you. Despite a somewhat busy night - two muggings, an almost-car crash, and one lost little girl now safely back with her mother - He still hadn’t been able to come to a decision. Half an hour ago you had texted Peter asking if he had chosen a script yet, and he still hadn’t responded. 

“Just go with the script they want, Pete. Even if Y/N doesn’t like you, at least you’ll get to kiss them.” He thought as he removed his skin-tight supersuit and changed into some sweats and a t-shirt. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his backpack, and, after another minute or so of arguing with himself, finally began to type.

8:31 pm

Y/N:

hey pete, have you decided which script you wanna do yet?

9:06 pm

Peter:

Uh, yeah. I think the one you liked is the best.

9:08 pm

Y/N:

yesss, i was hoping you’d choose that one. i have great taste ;)

9:08 pm

Peter:

Haha, yeah, you do. We’ll rehearse tomorrow after school right?

9:10 pm

Y/N:

yup! i’ll meet you by your locker again :) see ya tomorrow pete

Peter decided to let the conversation end there. Honestly, he had no idea what to think. What does “I have great taste ;)” mean? Is that a reference to the kiss? Does this mean they like him? Or is it just a joke? Peter sent a screenshot of the conversation to Ned for help, but Ned being Ned wasn’t helpful at all. 

9:15 pm

Ned:

Just. Make. A. Move. 

9:16 pm

Ned:

Betty thinks you should make a move too.

Despite his confusion and nerves over tomorrow’s rehearsal, Peter managed to fall asleep at a reasonable time. Hopefully tomorrow he’d get the answers he was looking for.

~~~

Peter waited by his locker after the final bell rang. As the hallways began to clear, he noticed you making your way over to him.

“Sorry, I hope you weren’t waiting too long. My English class is basically all the way across the school.” You looked nervous. Is that good? Or bad? Have you been thinking about the kiss too?

“Y-you’re fine. I’ve only been here for like a minute.” That was a lie. Peter’s Chemistry class was just across the hall from his locker, but you didn’t need to know that. After he finished talking, you seemed to lose all sense of nerves.

“I guess it wasn’t me causing the nerves then…” Peter thought, his mood dropping a little.

“Oh good. Let’s get going then, my apartment is only a couple blocks from here.” And so you began the short walk to your place. You made some small talk on the way there, talking about your other classes instead of the one class you did share. 

“You have Mrs. Jenson third period right? I have her during fifth. Maybe we can study together for her tests...I know the school year just started, but I can already tell she’ll make her tests unnecessarily evil.” You said as the both of you entered your building. 

“That’s a good idea, I know someone who took her class last year and they said she always had essay questions. Not to mention 5 choices for multiple choice questions instead of the usual four.” Peter responded. As he spoke, they headed towards the elevator, and Y/N pressed the button, causing the doors to immediately open. After hitting the number 4 on the wall, the doors slowly began to close. Despite the unfortunate news he was sharing with Y/N, his voice had a hopeful tone to it; They want to hang out with him again. Sure, it’s just loose plans to study for a test sometime in the future, but hey, he’ll take it.

“Damn. History has never been my subject, so I’ll definitely need the extra study time. I can never remember all the important dates.” Your phone buzzed after that, causing you to glance down at it. As you responded to whoever had texted you, Peter was left to his thoughts when the elevator began to move. It wasn’t until the elevator doors opened and you stepped out that the conversation resumed. “That was my mom, guess she’s gonna be at work for a few more hours. We can order a pizza if you want, I’m not sure how long we’ll be rehearsing today.”

“Pizza, uhm,” Peter’s voice cracked, “Pizza sounds good.” Peter cursed to himself, but if you had noticed his voice cracking, you had the decency to ignore it. You pulled your keys from your backpack, and unlocked the second apartment on the floor. 

“Cool, I’ll order something online. Pepperoni ok for you?” You asked as you walked into the apartment, holding the door open for Peter. Peter only nodded, not really trusting his voice for the moment. He took a second to look around the place as you closed the door behind him. When you came into his eyesight again, you were looking at your phone, presumably ordering the pizza. “Since my mom isn’t here we can rehearse in the living room, it’s just this way.” Peter followed you as you led him across the apartment, then sat on the couch. He tried to give you space as you continued punching in the pizza order. While you were busy, Peter opened his own backpack and pulled out the script you had agreed upon. Last night he had highlighted his lines, although luckily for this assignment the teacher had mentioned that memorization was optional. After all, the school year had just begun and it was a beginner’s class.

“Ok, pizza will be here in like half an hour. Now we can get to work!” You quickly pulled out your own script from your backpack, and turned to face Peter. “Do you wanna just read through it a few times, then once we’re used to it we could start working out the blocking?” You suggested.

“Y-yeah, sure, that works for me.” Peter was relieved at this option; read throughs meant he didn’t have to worry about the kiss yet. “Your character starts, right?”

And so the two of you began reading through the script. It was short, only a few pages, and featured someone on the day of their wedding, and the man who was trying to convince them to leave their fiance. At first, the reading was a little awkward, as neither of you had any experience in acting, but by the third or fourth time you had gone through the script together, both of you were feeling much more comfortable. Instead of sitting away from each other on opposite ends of the couch, you were close, the way your characters would be. The blocking had even begun to take shape naturally, so you and Peter stood for the fifth reading, walking around the room, trying your best to embody the characters as they argued. This time, as you approached the end of the script however, Peter’s nerves returned.

“Why would you do this? Just barging in here on my wedding day?” You said, trying to act as frustrated and confused as you felt your character would be. 

“You and I both kn-know you don’t love him! You’ll never be happy with him!” Peter tried to keep his nerves in check, but he knew what was coming.

“And how do you know I’d be happier with you?” Following the stage directions indicated on your script, you stepped closer to Peter. Instead of continuing with the scene, Peter just stared at you, no longer looking at his script. “Uh, Pete?” He still didn’t respond. You were confused, until you looked back at the script. You weren’t sure how you had forgotten, after all, this is why you chose the scene in the first place. “Peter, this is the part where you kiss me” You said quietly. You had taken his choosing of this scene to mean he liked you too, but you weren’t sure. His eyes widened a little at your words though, which made your confidence drop. “O-or not, um, we could do a stage kiss, or you could just kiss my cheek, or we could just cut it complet-” Peter cut off your rambling by putting his hands on your cheek and bringing his lips to meet yours. You were shocked, but easily melted into the kiss. He was gentle as he kissed you, his nerves disappearing the second you kissed him back. After a while, you both separated from the kiss. Neither of you spoke for a minute, just staring at each other.

“U-um.. that was ok, right?” Peter whispered, as you were still pretty close to him. You only smiled, and gave him another short kiss as a response. Before you guys could do anything else, there was a knock at the door.

“Pizza!” Someone said loudly through the wood. Before you could make a move, Peter had grabbed his wallet and was already walking towards the front door.

“I’ll pay...after all, what kind of gentleman would I be if I let you pay on our first date?”

[abbyilr1967]

“I’m Not Coming Home” - Dean x Reader (pt.2)

A/n: This part 2 of the “I’m Not Coming Home” Drabble, which I suggest you read. Even though this part is going to be similar to the first, this one takes place from the reader’s POV. 

Here is a link to where you can read Part 1. Here is a link to the Mini-Series Masterlist, and here is a link to a full Masterlist of my work. 

P.s. - I’m going to be more descriptive in this part, so if some things seem new, it’s because they are. 

Summary: As the apocalypse looms overhead, all supernatural beings have their eyes on you and the Winchesters. And they’ll do anything to get their hands on the three of you. But an unexpected connection throws a wrench into a certain demon’s plans. 

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 2.1k

“I think I’m gonna call it a night,” you say as you slowly pick your head up off Dean’s shoulder after falling asleep while the boys were doing research. 

“Ok Sweetheart,” Dean says as he places a quick kiss to your forehead. You pick up your bag off the booth seat, and sling it over your shoulder. 

“Do you want me to walk you back?” Dean asks, overly protective of you even though you’ve saved his ass more than once on a hunt. 

“Nah, I’ll be ok,” you reassure, ruffling your hands through Dean’s hair in attempts to mess it up. 

Dean slaps your hand away. “Don’t be a brat,” he says jokingly. Sam and you chuckle at Dean’s dismay. 

“Night boys,” you say before turning to head for the exit. 

“We’ll let you know if we find anything,” Sam says over his shoulder as you reach the door. You throw a thumbs-up back at them and push through into the cool evening air. 

Once outside you pull your jacket around you a little tighter as you dig around in your pocket for the room key. The sound of your combat boots on the gravel fills the night air. You finally fish the key out of your pocket as you make it to the door. The key slides in nicely, and you unlock the door. You stand in the doorway for a moment to put the key away, door to your room wide open. 

Unaware of what's behind you, you’re shoved abruptly into the room, dropping your bag in the door. The shove was powerful enough to push you to your hands and knees, but you’re grabbed swiftly by the collar of your jacket before you can turn around to face your attacker. And in that split second, your assailant wraps their hand around and firmly places a damp cloth over your mouth and nose. You struggle to hold your breath to avoid inhaling what you can only assume is chloroform, trying to come to terms with the fact that whether or not you inhale that chemical does not matter, because you’ll eventually pass out from lack of air. 

You break down and breathe in. 

After a minute or so you putty in the palms of your unknown assailant’s hands, and you give up the struggle to be free. 

~ 

You wake with an overwhelming ache in your neck. 

“What the-”  you try to move your hands, but you notice they are bound to the arms of a chair, as well as your legs. 

“For fucks sake,” you sigh, attempting to stretch your neck to relieve the ache as best you could. 

“How the hell am I gonna get outta here,” you scan around the dimly light room looking for anything you could use to get free. 

As you scan the room, you realize that this really isn’t like any of the other hostage situations you’ve been in. Every other time you’d been tied up in a damp, dark basement, in an uncomfortable chair, with uncomfortably tight bindings.  But this was different. You were in what looked like a decent hotel room, with a nice bed. The chair you were in was pleasantly comfortable, and the bindings used, however, still tight, were new and didn’t itch. 

“What the hell-” You quickly realize that there was a faint sound of footsteps coming from outside the room. The door to the room was ahead of you, so you mentally prepare yourself to come face-to-face with the thing that seemed to overpower you so easily the night before. The heavy footsteps come to a stop in front of the door, and hesitate before entering. 

As the door slowly opens you watch as a tall, slim figured man enters the space. 

“Morning Princess,” he snarls. 

“Alastair,” you groan. “What the fuck do you want?” you ask angrily. 

“Don’t want to chat first Princess?” he asks sarcastically, which only causes you to stare daggers back at him. “No, straight to business it is then,” he drops the bag he had slung over his shoulder onto the floor beside him. It hits the floor with a clank. 

“Now let’s see, why did I pluck you away from the Winchesters, hmm,” he brings his hand up to his chin, resting his finger on his lips while he thinks of his answer. 

“Why might a devilishly handsome demon such as myself want to do with a huntress, such as yourself, who is affiliated with two of the best hunters the mortal plain has ever seen?” He’s now resting his hands on the arms of the chair you’re confined to, faces so close together you are almost touching. Surprisingly though, he doesn’t smell. You’d never gotten this close to him before, but you’d always thought that he'd smell like the rotting flesh, or death, or something to that effect. 

In response to his question you continue to stare deep into his now fully black eyes.

“Fine, play ignorant…” he stands back up from his positions bent in front of you. “It’ll be all over once the Winchester’s come to save you,” his back is to you now, he's fiddling with the items on what you can only describe as a medical cart. The kind you’d see in the shitty medical dramas on tv. 

“What are you gonna do to them?” you ask sarcastically. “They beat your ass once, they could do it again in a heartbeat.” He doesn't respond. He keeps messing with the stuff on the table, and after a moment you see him bring a syringe up into the air, as he flicks it to get rid of the bubbles. 

“Hey hey hey, what the fuck is that?” you ask, trying to contain the panic brewing in your stomach.

“You asked me, what I was gonna do to the Winchesters, but not what I was gonna do to you,” he turns, holding out the syringe in your direction. 

“You see Y/n,” he slowly starts to walk circles around the chair you're bound to, almost as if he’s stalking his prey. “I’ve always had a fondness for you, maybe it’s because you’re the only woman I’ve ever met that challenges everything I do, you’re not as submissive, as the others,” 

He comes to a stop behind you, grips a fist in your hair, and yanks your head to the side.

“Ugh,” you groan, realizing that your neck is still aching pretty bad. Alastair leans in, right close to your ear. 

“I had a buddy of mine, mix up a magical cocktail that’s going to cause you to become infatuated with me,” he brings the syringe up to your neck, taps you with the needle of it. 

“And once the cocktail takes effect, I’m going to use Dean’s overprotectiveness of you, to lure him and Sam to our little couples suite unprepared as they will be, and kill them. So that we can start the apocalypse, sound good to you?” you know he’s asking sarcastically, as he places the end of the syringe to your neck. Just as he’s about to pierce the skin, your mouth opens to speak before your brain has a chance to speak.

“I wanna make a deal!” you blurt out, squeezing your eyes shut waiting for the inevitable stabbing sensation in your neck. 

“What,” he pulls the needle away from you, and lets go of your hair. 

“I wanna make a deal,” you sigh with relief. Alastair comes back in front of you, staring at you with a confused expression. 

“You,” he pauses, “Want to make a deal….” he pauses again. “With me.” 

“Yes,” you say reluctantly. “You leave Sam and Dean alone, and…” now you pause, almost unable to believe you are about to say this. 

“I’ll help you start the apocalypse.” 

Alastair lets his vessel fall into a more relaxed position, as if he’s letting down a bit of his guard. 

“You can’t be serious,” he chuckles. “How do I know I can trust that you won’t try to sabotage me?” he questions. 

“I know how the Winchesters work,” you start. “I can help you avoid them, their hunter friends, and you can have access to all my resources.” 

You can feel the pit in your stomach grow with each passing second of this conversation. You’d never thought that you’d betray the Winchesters, but your only hope now is that they can reverse what you’re about to do. 

“You have my word,” you hang your head in defeat, as you can’t see any other options. You don’t want to help start the apocalypse, but you don’t want to hurt Dean anymore than he’s already been hurt. 

“Hmm,” he takes a moment to consider your offer. After a moment, he steps closer to you, reaching out and grabbing you by the collar of your shirt. He pulls your face right close to his. 

“If you ever try to sabotage my plans,” he pauses, lips centimeters from yours. “I won’t hesitate torture you until you’re begging me to end you, got that?” he asks menacingly. 

“Yes,” you whisper back. 

“Good Girl,” he whispers, pressing his dry, chapped lips to your soft pump ones. Effectively sealing your fate. 

His lips leave yours, and you exhale the breath you felt like you’d been holding forever.

“Now, one last piece of business to take care of,” he says as he walks back over to the medical cart. 

“What,” you ask, genuinely confused. 

“We have to call you little boy toy, and tell him to stop looking for you,” when he turns back around you see him shaking a little burner phone. 

“His number? Princess,” he asks in a fake cutesy voice. 

“One, eight-six-six, nine-zero-seven,” you hesitate for a moment, not wanting to finish your sentence. 

“Remember our deal Sweetheart,” he presses. 

“Three-two-three-five,” you finish reluctantly. He presses dial, and holds the phone up to your ear. The ringing of the phone fills the dead silence hotel room. 

“Hello,” Dean’s voice comes through on the other end. 

“D-Dean,” you say, trying to keep your emotions at bay. 

“Y/n! Y/n, honey are you ok,” Dean asks, concern evident in his tone. “Sam and I have been worried sick.” 

“Dean I’m fine I-”

“Is there someone with you Y/n?” You were unaware Dean could hear anything other than you over the phone. But at that point all you can muster is a whimper in response to his questioning. 

You look up to Alastair as the silent tears start to roll down your cheeks. 

“Be a Good Girl and tell him,” Alastair says in response to your inability to speak. “You want to be my Good Girl, don’t you?” he asks. It’s taking all your strength not to scream at Alastair, but you know that it’d only end bad for you if you did. 

“Tell me what Y/n? Baby c’mon, tell me where you are,” Dean pleads. You hear Dean pull the phone away from his ear and shout at Sam, but at this point you’re too focused on words caught in your throat to hear what he said. 

“Y/n, c’mon honey, tell me where you are,” he continues to plead. 

“Listen Dean,” you make eye contact with Alastair. “ I love you ok!” you blurt before Alastair pulls the phone from your ear. 

“Please let me say goodbye to him!” cheeks stained with the tears, now violently spilling from your eyes. 

“Ah, ah, ah,” Alastair taunts as she holds the phone away from you. “Someone’s not doing as they’re told,” he chuckles. “Someone’s being a Bad Girl,” he puts extra emphasis on the nickname, just to get under Dean’s skin. 

“Alastair,” you hear Dean growl through the shitty burner phone. 

“Sorry Deano, I wish we had more time to chat, but someone over here is in need of a punishment.” he again puts extra emphasis on punishment, trying to rile Dean up. You would try to struggle to get away, but there’s no point. You’re locked into this now. You sit there as the tears continue to fall down your face. 

“If you dare lay a finger on her, I swear to god I’ll fucking kill you,” Dean shouts over the phone. 

“Ah, sorry Dean,” Alastair starts making scratchy noises on this side of the call. “I think we’re breaking up,” the scratchy noises continue. “I’m going through a tunnel, call you later.” 

The sound of the call ending abruptly is deafening. 

“Well now that that’s taken care of, let's get packed and ready to go,” Alastair says cheerfully as he tosses the burner phone over his shoulder comedically. 

“We’ve got to start training,” he says as he starts to pack up the materials on the medical cart. 

“Training?” you sniffle. 

“Yes,” he says matter-of-factly. “Can’t have a disobedient little puppy, now can we.” 

~

@akshi8278  

[mrslackles]

The Right to Remain Silent

Summary: Beth's FBI. Rio's... not.

[A/N: This is an unfinished work that I scrapped but I’m posting because of this tag game. I rounded out writing three of the main parts of the first chapter that I already had mostly done so it would be readable, but like I said, it is most certainly unfinished; there are whole middle chunks missing that I never got around to writing.]

**

“Ruby, do you think there's any way back once you're a bad person?”

She can almost hear her best friend frown on the other end of the line.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you've crossed over, do you think it’s possible to find your way back?”

There’s silence for a moment. Then Ruby lets out a breath. 

“I… I guess it depends how far you went. How bad what you did is.”

“The worst.” She swallows. “The worst possible everything.”

**

One week earlier

**

Beth’s feeling really good about herself.

So good that she’s even considering buying everyone in the office coffee. She thinks she’ll drink hers here, though. At least her first cup. She’s still high off yesterday’s bust and she doesn’t need the humdrum of today spoiling it just yet.

The barista smiles at her, catching her eye, then winks and goes ahead making her usual order.

“Lemme get that for you.”

Beth turns. There’s a guy beside her facing forward, his collar up, but he’s looking at her from the corner of his eye.

She smiles. “That’s not necessary.”

“Oh, but I wanna.”

“No, thank you,” she says more firmly, letting the smile go.

“Oh, c'mon darlin,” he says, voice smooth as honey. “How else’s a guy s’pposed to get a beautiful woman’s attention?”

This gets under her collar then seeps into her bones, sending a shiver down her back. Weird. Weird.

“Well, I'm married.”

She’s still trying to process this – a man hitting on her – when he suddenly turns to face her and, oh.

“Since when has that ever stopped anybody, Elizabeth?”

Her mouth falls open – at his appearance, at the tattoo, at him knowing her name – but he doesn’t give her the chance to speak.

“Sit down.”

There’s no room for arguing in his tone, face stony in an instant, and she follows him to a table with her heart fluttering in her throat. There’s a cat-like fluidity to the way he walks and she takes this in analytically before sitting, back straight.

She folds her hands into her lap, trying to shake off the surprise.

“What gang are you affiliated with?”

“Shit, first you don't want me to buy you a drink now you wanna take down my pants?”

There’s something about him – the lewdness? His smirk? The way he takes her in with gleaming eyes? – that unnerves her, but she tells herself it’s still just the shock letting it all get to her.

“How did you find me?”

He sits back in his seat, folding his hands; almost mocking her own posture.

“You raided a warehouse of mine yesterday.”

God. She clears her throat.

“You want your money back?”

She’d caught the line of his gun beneath his jacket; is slowly trying to survey the café to figure out if he’s alone.

“Naw. See, you asked how I found you,” he points at her.

“So then what do you want?”

Now he leans onto the table, steepling his fingers.

“Your hubby, he ain’t a real stand-up guy, huh?” He makes as if to give her a chance to speak then barrels right ahead. “Fucked around on you then getting himself into debt with some real rough guys.”

Breathe, Beth. Breathe.

“What are you talking about?”

He seems amused – he knows more than her and he’s relishing it.

“He been real flush lately?”

And she wants to say no instantly, but – he’d suddenly paid for the house after they’d been struggling to make the payment. He’d said he’d sold a car, but…

“You’re trying to bribe me,” she says, voice tinny.

“Nah,” he scoffs, laughing like she’s told a joke. “I’m tryna keep the limbs on all your loved ones. Y’know, they’re called loan sharks for a reason.”

Her hands are no longer folded, wringing each other.

“H-how are you going to do that?”

He shrugs cavalierly. “You need money, I got lots of it. We could be friends, and I like helping out my friends.”

He watches her, waiting, but she doesn’t react; doesn’t respond. She’s frozen, too stunned by this influx of information; this situation.

Not only had Dean torn their family apart, he’d also put them in danger? And she’d left her children with him to take this assignment; to get away. And now her babies could end up being collateral in more ways than just that one.

“Your hubby’s in the hole for ten grand,” he informs her, leaning over the table a little. “So I’m thinkin… a cool thirty gees?”

She stares.

“You’re going to pay me thirty thousand dollars for doing nothing?”

“Naw, darlin; nothin’s for nothin.”

“So what do you want?”

“Colleague of yours, an agent… Donnegan?” She nods and he continues: “Had a drug bust a week ago. My intel says the pills are still in your evidence room – I got a third party who’s real interested.”

“You’re insane.”

He grins, delighted, as if this is a compliment.

She shakes her head. “I can’t just take evidence, that’s not how things work!”

He shrugs. “Bat your lashes, sign it out for another ‘investigation’ – whatever it takes. I’m sure you’ll think of somethin.”

Before she can say anything – say whether she’s going to do it – he jumps up, kicking his chair back as he juts a thumb outward.

“That’s my boy, Mick.”

She follows his finger to see a tattooed man standing outside.

“He’s gonna take care of you. Make sure you got the details for the drop; that you all set up for payment.”

And then, with a quick squeeze of her shoulder, he’s gone.

**

She nearly growls when Dean’s voice finally crackles across the line, greeting cheery. 

“Hi, you.”

“Tell me right now and don’t lie to me: did you get money from loan sharks to pay for the house?”

There’s silence for far too long, loaded.

“Bethie, I was going to tell you—”

“Oh my god,” she sucks in a breath. 

“But, see, I knew you’d react that way!”

“Because you put our lives in danger! Do you know what those people do to the families of people who don’t pay them?”

“I know this all seems really scary, but it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He’s always done that. She’s been a cop for years and he still makes it sound like she’s a little girl who isn’t capable of anything.

Even Bethie – she’s started hating how he’s always babied her name.

“What’s not as bad as it sounds, Dean?” she humours him.

“These aren’t the guys you’re used to, these are good guys.”

“They’re loan sharks.”

“No! Well… yeah. But they were really worried about our situation and so understanding when I couldn’t pay last month—”

“Oh my god, we’re already behind?”

“Beth. Bethie. I’m going to take care of it, ok?”

“No.”

She looks up from the floor to the evidence locker.

“I am.”

**

[Beth does the drop, gets paid then is forced into having dinner with Rio, after which he drives her to where she’s staying and invites himself inside]

Rio walks around, inspecting the place as she stands frozen by the entrance-way table.

“You have guys around?”

“I told you I was married.”

He turns back to meet her eyes.

“And I told you I know he's a dirtbag.”

“And that gives me permission to sleep around?”

His lip quirks up a little.

“Kinda does, yeah.”

“Well, I’m not that kind of person.”

“And what kinda person is that?”

“Vows mean something to me.”

“Like the one to serve and protect your country?”

And this jerks down her back, just like he wanted it to. He’s smirking and she’s driven forward, seething.

“So this is what you do? You recruit people, pay them, come and scope out their homes for when you need to intimidate them later?”

She wants to take him down a notch, wants to figure out how to get under his skin too, but he doesn’t seem bothered by her tone.

“Naw, house calls ain’t usually my thing.”

“So then what are you still doing here?”

He’s looking at her strangely, shoulders jerking as he comes closer.

“If you wanna know what I’m doing here, Elizabeth, you gotta stop thinking like a cop and start thinking like—”

“A criminal?” she snickers. “Quantico already taught me that lesson, but thanks.”

He smiles, eyes gleaming.

“…A woman.”

And now the shiver down her back is different – but it’s half anger. Is this why he’s here; is that why her? Because he’d wanted to sleep with her?

“Why did you choose me?”

It’s maybe the first thing she’s said all night that seems to throw him.

“’Scuse me?”

“Mick told me that there were other options – better options – but you chose me.”

“He’s got some loose lips this week.”

She folds her arms.

“Why?”

He stares back at her, seemingly conflicted, then backs up to lean against the table.

She waits and it’s a long few seconds before he finally speaks.

“I was there the day of your bust. Was rollin by to check on shit, y’know. But then I saw what was goin on and pulled ’round to the west side of the building.” He hesitates, eyes on the floor. “Saw you.”

He says this like it’s supposed to explain exactly what he means, but she shakes her head in confusion.

“Ok…”

Now he looks up, though not quite at her.

“While you was havin your… personal moment.”

Oh, god.

Everything had suddenly hit her – what Dean had done, how much she’s missing her children and the girls – and she’d had to excuse herself for a few moments.  

But she tries not to cower; not to show how endlessly humiliated she is.

“So you chose me because you saw me cry on the job?” 

Rio blinks slowly, thoughtfully. He swallows.

And when he speaks, it’s soft; nearly inaudible.

“I chose you ’cuz it looked like you needed choosing.”

And she should breathe, should force air into her lungs, but instead -- instead she finds herself stepping closer. 

She doesn’t breathe, doesn’t think, as her legs brush against his.

His eyes are on her, warm and wanting ­– god, when last has anyone looked at her like this?

She’s frozen now, has gone as far as she can, and he straightens up. Then his hand is slipping past her hair to cup her face, angle it up to his. And he’s so warm and she shouldn’t be doing this, but she can’t think to stop; can’t remember why she should be running in the other direction.

When he kisses her, it’s soft. Softer than it should be; softer than he should be. It makes her gasp a little and then she’s pressing closer, kissing him back harder because it feels so right even though it’s all so wrong, wrong, wrong.

She whimpers as his tongue slips past her lips and then his hands are on her hips and before she knows it, he’s spinning them around, lifting her up onto the table, and by the time her legs are spread around his hips, she’s forgotten every vow she’s ever taken.

 **

Rio sips at the bottle of water.

From her pillow she watches the inked bird bob with his Adam’s apple. 

Then her eyes go to the tattoos at the back of his arms. Angry red scratches run down them, a reminder of her that he’ll take home tonight.  

“I like this place.”

Her eyebrow rises in surprise.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “looks like a criminal hideout. Doesn't suit you.”

She doesn’t know if this is an insult or a compliment but follows his gaze to survey the huge industrial space.

“Well, it's nothing like my house, that's for sure.”

Sitting up in bed, she wraps her arms around her knees with a sad little breath.

“Every time I think about it, I like this place a little more.”

“That why you volunteer for it?” He looks amused by her visible surprise. “Might not know much about coppers, but I know nobody of your rank's stayin in a dump like this against their will.”

She stares at him for a moment, weighing up the cost of the truth, then looks away.

“I took it because I wanted to punish myself,” she admits quietly. “You know, no creature comforts.” 

Not while her children are without her; are robbed of their mother, who’d willingly taken herself away.

“But then I realised I feel more comfortable here than the home I left.”

He watches her for a moment too long before snickering in a way that comes out more forced than he probably intends.

“That's real damn sad.”

“Yeah.”

What more is there to say? Especially to him, of all people?

“I'm really tired.”

She moves the sheet higher up onto her chest in what she hopes he’ll take as a hint. There isn’t going to be a second round tonight, not like normal. Things had gotten too personal and that’s not what this is. Although she still has no idea what it is. 

He sniffs in some kind of amusement.

“That a lifelong habit?”

“What habit?” she asks sharply, looking back at him.

He’s up, beginning to dress.

“Only openin up to people you know ain't stayin; who you can push away.”

She stares back, surprised. Offended.

“That's not what I'm doing.”

“Ain't it?” He stands from putting on his shoes to regard her. “Ain't that why you kissed me back to begin with?”

“No.”

He smiles a little.

“You should be a better liar, Special Agent Boland.” He pulls on his t-shirt then shrugs, grabbing his jacket. “But it's cool.”

He’s ready to leave, expression filled with his signature brand of guarded amusement. 

“...Takes one to know one.”

[kreepykix]

Peachy - (Roman Godfrey x Reader)

summary: you show up at roman’s house finding him hungover and try to make him feel better only you start to notice... maybe you’re not just friends.

Chapter 2  Chapter 3

“Rommeee,” You called as you made your way up the stairs towards Roman’s bedroom, Olivia having let you in prior with only the barest of nods. You heard a noise of acknowledgement from down the hall and you swung into the room with a sly smile, jumping into his bed without a second thought. What you hadn’t realized though, was that Roman was buried underneath the covers and you had accidentally body slammed him further into the bed with your excitement to feel the coziness of his bed again. You heard him grunt loudly in pain and you quickly rolled to the side and off him. “Oh jeez sorry! I didn’t know you were there… wait why are you still in bed?” You questioned, leaning up on one arm and pulling the blanket back to reveal a sickly, sleepy Roman. There were purple bags resting heavily under his half-lidded eyes and he was much paler than usual, his body screamed exhaustion and you frowned in realization.

“I may or may not have had a late night down at the bar with Peter,” He croaked out, voice hoarse and crackly from disuse. He pulled the blanket back up and flipped onto his side, facing you. You shook your head before getting up from the bed, Roman snagged your wrist in a tight embrace before you could get all the way up. You glanced up to see him gazing deep into your eyes. “Where are you going?” He asked, a minuscule note of unfamiliar desperation creeping into his voice. 

“I’m just grabbing you some water and Tylenol, I’ll be right back.” You said with a small smile, his grip on you loosening enough for you to take your hand back and successfully get off the bed. You dug around in his bathroom for a moment before finally acquiring the Tylenol and grabbing a glass and filling it up with water from the tap before returning to Romans room and patting his leg as you came around to his side of the bed. He sat up and took the pills and water from you, swallowing the medicine easily. He set the water down on his bedside table before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him, stumbling on top of him once again though he was ready for it this time. Your faces were mere centimeters away and you smiled. “Hi,” You spoke quietly, afraid to shatter the moment. Roman's hand reached up and gently brushed some stray hairs out of your eyes, his fingertips lingering on your cheek.

“Hi,” He answered with the same hushed tone, his smile mirroring your own easily. “Stay with me today?” He asked and you nodded without hesitation. He grinned and planted a solid kiss on your forehead. 

“Can I steal some of your clothes before we settle in? Skinny jeans aren’t exactly comfort wear,” You asked, turning the puppy dog eyes up to the max. Roman rolled his eyes after a moment and nodded. “Yes!” You squealed, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek before flouncing off the bed and prancing over to his dresser. You only got to wear Romans clothes on rare occasions and you savored those moments. You picked up a black t shirt which would be ten times too big for you and quickly ran to his bathroom to change. Romans clothes always smelled exactly like him and it made you feel comforted and safe every time you put them on. You would always try to smuggle them home but you were only successful once and you wore that shirt till it lost its scent and reluctantly returned it. You peeled off your jeans and pulled your shirt over your head and you unclipped your bra since it was uncomfy to sleep in and tossed on Romans shirt. It hung just above your knees and you laughed at the size difference the two of you had before you slipped back into Romans room, sliding his blackout curtains closed before hopping back into bed, this time landing squarely next to him. You slid under the covers and turned to grin at Roman. He just smiled softly, wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. Your head rested on his chest and you felt the heat radiating off of him which only added to your comfort. “What do you want to do?” You asked, lifting your head to look at him. 

He shrugged, “Movie?” He offered and you nodded, snagging the remote from the bedside table and hitting the power button, flipping back onto your back in the process. Romans arm was still snaked around your shoulder and you looked up at him in appreciation. 

“You’re the best bestie ever.” You stated as if it were a fact, which you did whole-heartedly believe. You and Roman had met in the sixth grade and been attached at the hip ever since. You befriended Shelley easily, and eventually Olivia. As Roman had begun to get more into drugs and girls you had desperately tried to steer him in the other direction but it seemed to honestly just be in his nature and you eventually got used to it even though whenever you saw him smoking or doing drugs you would always frown or take it away from him. You didn’t want to have to live without your best friend. The girls were whole nother thing for you though, it made you anxious and sometimes even sick to the stomach whenever you would see him with another girl though you didn’t know why, he was free to do as he pleased. Maybe it was the STDs he could be contracting or something but it just didn’t sit right with you. When Peter showed up the dynamic changed a bit between you, a bit of distance in the shape of Peter coming between you and your time together was shortened and so you were always eager to spend time with Roman when you got the chance but you had felt much more included lately, you finally felt you had a place with your friends. 

“I know,” Roman answered with a smirk, pulling you out of your thoughts and you rolled your eyes before directing the TV to Netflix and scrolling through the options. You bickered over movies till you finally decided on Monster House, technically family friendly but also a little spooky. You settled in, one leg tossed over Romans and head resting on his chest as you watched the screen intently. Eventually your eyelids grew heavy and you fell into a peaceful slumber. 

You woke hours later, light no longer creeping around the sides of the curtains and a slumbering Roman curled around your body. You both must’ve shifted at some point since he was now spooning you from behind. It felt nice, really nice. Not that you thought it wouldn’t it’s just that you finally realized this was something a couple would do. A lot of things you did together were things couples did. Kissing each other on the forehead and cheek, the cuddles and slumber parties, stealing his clothes and the constant care for each other. It was all things a couple would do and it made you feel strange and confused, awkwardness clouded your mind and your felt Roman stir behind you, pressing his face into your neck and inhaling.

“You smell good,” He murmured against your skin and your cheeks were set aflame. 

“Thanks,” You squeaked out, silently willing the bed to rise up and swallow you whole so you wouldn’t have to feel this way. No such luck.

“Are you ok?” Roman leaned up, sensing something wrong in your voice and searching your face for the answer.

You averted your gaze and cleared your throat, “Yeah, fine, how are you feeling?” You asked, switching the subject back to him.

He stared for a moment longer before coming up empty and laying back down, hands behind his head. “Peachy, haven’t slept that good in… well, ever.” He said with a rare soft smile directed towards you and added a wink for good measure. Your face warmed once again and you smiled a bit.

“Happy to help,” You said softly.

A/N: This may have more to be added, don’t know yet, hope you enjoy! I’ve also posted this and my other stories on AO3 if you wanna check it out my username thingy is cosmicbrowni3 :)))

[ayellowcurtain]

SKAM NL S3 EP1 - Lucas Van Der Heijden

-

Lucas loves to party. It gets his mind off of his shitty life. Now it’s even easier, he’s living with Jayden and Ralph, the party animals.

He was trying to be better, to get out of a situation that was clearly not healthy with his mom. Lucas doesn’t care about his dad anymore, he didn’t have the right to leave like he did so fuck him.

“Here…” Kes gives him the joint back and he takes a long hit, letting it fill his lungs slowly, laughing when he sees Kes just staring at him, raising his eyebrows. “We’re sharing, you know…” He says and Jayden gets the joint of his fingers, smoking too.

“What? I can only smoke for half a second?” Kes nods his head, pinching his cheek.

“Yes, you’re too young and too skinny to smoke this much.” Lucas rolls his eyes, turning to look at the city while the other two continue to smoke. They have an amazing view from here. He can see all the lights still on, inside some apartments across the street you can see another party happening, but you can’t hear anything apart from muffled loud music coming from inside their own apartment. It feels like the city is sleeping at ease. Lucas wishes he could be at ease like that too.

“Shit…” Jayden is pulling him by his jacket to turn to them again, shoving his bag of weed inside one of Lucas’ pockets. “The cops are downstairs.” He taps the pocket and opens the door for them to get inside again.

“Wha-Why the fuck I’m the one that’s keeping it?” He opens his arms and follows the other two inside. The bag is not too big, you can’t see it, hiding inside his pocket, but he doesn’t want to get caught by the fucking police.

“Your baby face will help you, they won’t look for it in you.” Lucas looks at his best friend, waiting for any help, but Kes just shrugs and taps his shoulder, walking past the drunk dancing people, into the kitchen, just waiting for the police to ring their bell.

If it was up to him, they would have gone somewhere else, maybe Kes’ place. He kissed someone earlier, but he couldn’t care less about the girl, he did it because his friends were nagging him about it. Lucas is not even sure about her name anymore. He can see her staring at him while dancing with her friends, but he just ignores it, trying to act cool while he’s waiting for the cops to come and end the party and hopefully not inspect the left pocket of his jacket.

-

This room is way too fucking hot.

Lucas moves his legs until they managed to push the sheets away from his body, just keeping his feet underneath it. He blinks a few times, the sun is burning his improvised bed. It’s his luck that the only place they could fit a mattress in Jayden’s room was where the sun shines bright all day long. Most of the time is good, he likes the feeling of warmth, but today is just not the day.

Jayden forgot to close the curtains again and it’s too hot. He moves to his side, Jayden’s bed is empty, Lucas can’t remember what happened, but apparently Jayden didn’t sleep here today. He’ll have a taste of what’s privacy again. He looks at the door to check again: it’s closed, so he can close his eyes, trying to think of something...interesting while slowly pushing his hand down his body, pulling his briefs away from his skin.

“Good morning!” Lucas pulls his sheets back up to his shoulders while Ralph bursts into his bedroom, pushing Jayden in front of him. Jayden lies down on his bed and fully covers himself and Ralph comes to Lucas’ bed, looking at his phone, putting his head on Lucas’ chest, still looking at his phone.

“Ralph...knock on the fucking door, fuck!” He complains, suddenly feeling tired again, trying to move away from Ralph.

“Sorry, baby. But Liv is here! Say hi!” Lucas pulls his sheets to be fully covered as well, closing his eyes.

“Hi, Liv!” Jayden says in unison with him from under their respective sheets. The sun is not bothering him anymore, Ralph is, but the warmth starts relaxing him into his sleep again, Ralph and Liv are just background noise now, even the weight of Ralph’s head against his chest is soothing.

-

“Man, I knew I shouldn’t have left it with him, Kes!” Jayden is still whining and the day has barely even started.

“What the fuck are you talking about? It was your idea!” Kes laughs, shaking his head and he’s right. Lucas definitely didn’t ask to be the one to hide the weed. It’s not his fault that he lost it at some point when the police came in. If Jayden was so worried he should have kept it close to him.

“That costs money, bro!” Kes rolls his eyes, looking at Lucas, silently saying don’t worry. And he’s not really worried. He can’t remember half of what happened that night, he doesn’t even know how he got to his bed and how he slept only wearing his briefs. Ralph said he helped Lucas get to bed and Lucas took his own clothes off.

He has nothing to say so his eyes just wander around his surroundings. Deep down, Lucas is so sick of this. The same people every day, the same subjects, the same problems. Lucas has a heart and feelings and of course he loves his friends, it’s just that-

Finally, a new face. A good looking face.

Again, his friends are just background noise as his entire brain seem to focus on one person.

It’s hard to miss him, really. With a purple windbreaker with a neon-yellow line crossing his chest. His skin looks like honey when the sun hits at just the right angle. His hair is very short and bleached, apparently his mouth is constantly pouting just a little with soft, thick lips. He’s far away, but Lucas can tell he has piercing bright brown eyes that are staring back at Lucas now. Fuck.

“I’m still hungover and you’re talking about another party.” Kes’ voice slowly starts to come in the foreground just in time as Engel stops right in front of their table, blocking the way to the new guy.

“Hi!” She says happily and Lucas can’t relate to that mood this early in the morning.

-

Lucas shouldn’t be able to remember the guy’s features so perfectly. And he shouldn’t still be thinking about him either. Maybe he’s just a pretty face. Or maybe he just has style and long legs that go on for days. He’s probably just another guy that’s full of himself.

He’s interrupted again by Esra coming inside his bedroom without knocking on the door first. She comes with a soft smile that seems to be her thing, and sits on his bed, looking at him.

“I’ve got your weed.”

Maybe he’s in trouble. She’s always in a good mood and she’s the nicest person he’s ever met, but maybe he doesn’t know her that well. They don’t really talk.

“Ok…” With that smile on her face, he can’t read what she’s expecting him to do or say, so he waits.

“You want it?” She raises her thick eyebrows and her tone is still chill and soft. Lucas really looks at her and sits on his bed. Esra is holding something but he can’t see, she has one hand on top of the other.

“You’re going to give it to me without a lecture of why weed is bad for you?” It’s a push-and-pull kind of conversation that’s unexpected. She was the last person he could think that would have his weed. And if she did had it, he would never imagine her being so calm about it.

She finally moves just enough to turn her hand and offer him the little plastic bag filled with weed. Maybe he’s missing something here, but he slowly reaches and she lets him grab the bag.

“Thank you...?” Esra happily nods her head and like a ballerina with soft and perfect movements, she gets up, but she’s still looking at him.

“From now on, please clean your room, it stinks.” He’s still confused, but he nods his head. She’s not wrong and she just spared him of a lecture and having to deal with Jayden’s complaints, he can try to clean his part of the room.

-

This is the best part of summer. Having parties every day, you can even choose which one you wanna go because there are plenty of options. Still, Kes choose the worst one for them to go. Engel’s party are so fucking boring! It’s always just them and the girls. Everyone else doesn’t care enough about her to spend their Friday nights at her party. Kes and Isa keep stealing glances and Lucas can’t deal with that drama anymore. So the best thing he can do is get drunk.

“Does anyone want anything?” He taps on the table to get their attention. Kes just shakes his head, too busy looking at Isa to properly answer and Jayden just looks at him and shows his empty bottle. Two beers then.

The fridge is old, it doesn’t hold the temperature too well. As soon as he grabs the bottles inside, he knows they’re not cold enough. Lucas opens both at the edge of the counter and takes a big sip, not wanting to wait for the beer to get even warmer.

Looking from afar it’s even worse. The small apartment feels big. Jayden and Kes outside on the balcony and the girls sitting on the couch, watching Ralph and Esra trying to sing and dance to the music they choose in the karaoke. Jayden turns his body and puts his head inside the living room.

“Is anyone else coming?” Janna looks down and quietly looks at Engel and shrugs. Nobody is coming. Jayden seems to get that too, grabbing his phone again, probably looking for other parties to go to.

Lucas takes a deep breath, ready to go back to the sad party when someone opens the door, blocking the kitchen’s entry. The guy from the other day. He looks behind the door, straight into Lucas’ eyes.

“Sorry. Hi.” He can’t think of what to say, the guy just talked to him. He has a deep and calming voice that matches perfectly with his looks. And he’s just as tall and Lucas imagined.

The new guy finally closes the door behind him, still looking at Lucas while he does so and then he goes to say hi to the others. Lucas is still in shook and the others are singing too loud so he can’t hear when the guy introduces himself to the girls and then goes to shake Kes and Jayden’s hands.

There’s no way he can just go back to talk to his friends now. He is there, smiling and talking to Kes, of all people. Lucas leaves one of the bottles on the counter and quietly goes out of the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Janna’s building is a small one so he takes the stairs instead of the old elevator. The more time he has alone, the better. When he finally gets to the ground floor, his beer is also done and he leaves the empty bottle on the floor, walking out of the building. The streets are empty and Lucas has some time to himself.

He looks for his phone, but it’s not in his pockets, he forgot at Janna’s place. So he has nothing to distract himself from his feelings and his thoughts. Whoever he is, his name and where he comes from, he’s Lucas type. If Lucas could ever create someone made for him, that guy would be it.

The quiet night is interrupted by an old door opening and closing. Lucas looks inside the building just to see him again, the elevator door closing behind him, he’s looking around, stopping when he finds Lucas outside. He smiles and comes out too. Why does he smile so much?

“Hi.” He stops by Lucas’ side, grabbing a cigarette and lighting it in between his perfect pouty lips. He’s looking at Lucas, probably waiting for a response this time.  

“Hey…” Lucas manages to say, looking around to see if someone is seeing this.

“What’s your name?” He turns his body a little so he’s actually looking at Lucas, he is being very obvious that he wants to continue the conversation, not just be polite to a stranger.

“Hm, Lucas. And yours?” Lucas puts his hands deep inside his pockets, pushing his thumbs against his palms, trying to ground himself. He takes one step back so he can see the guy without having to turn his body.

“Milan.” He offers his hand and they shake hands a second later. His hand is big and mostly soft, just not so soft where his fingers start. They definitely shake hands for too long. Lucas is the one to pull his hand away, shoving it inside his pocket again, trying to engrave in his memory how Milan’s touch feels.

The awkward silence turns even worse after the weird handshake. It’s heavy and filled with unknown feelings. And he can feel that Milan is still looking at him and smiling. Lucas bites the inside of his cheek, looking everywhere else but in Milan’s direction.

He hears some voices in the distance and it gets closer and closer. Lucas looks up to see a group of girls. He sort of recognizes some of them, but he can’t remember from where.

“Lucas!” One of them says way too loud and happily and he’s sure he should know her name, but he doesn’t.

Emma? Eva?

Whoever she is, she comes close enough and hugs him tightly. All he can think about is Milan’s eyes that are still on him and on the girl as well.

“Engel invited me and I thought you would be here so...I came! And brought some friends, hope it’s ok…” He didn’t ask, but she keeps talking like he did. Lucas is trying to think on what to say, maybe lie and say that he’s leaving, but then Milan would be left behind too. He opens and closes his mouth and the girl already moved on, saying hi to Milan too.

“I don’t think we’ve met...I’m Emma.” She shakes his hand and he fake smiles to her, shaking her hand too.

“Milan.”

[internalsealpanic]

I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (2) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary:  Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.  

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do:

The ride was less than comfortable. Outside the more affluent districts, Gotham's roads were atrocious, bumpy, pothole-ridden death traps. Based on how bumpy it was, you suspected you were close to the docks. A minute into the death trap, you decided to pull Jason's head into your lap to cushion it from further damage. The problem was his face was still covered in vomit and now so were your trousers. This evening was gonna stretch on for an eternity.

By the time you thought of the 19th way Damian was gonna tell you how incompetent you were, you arrived. The doors opened, stepped in, extracted you, and hauled you like sacks of potatoes.

You look over to Jason who finally stirred to what seemed like consciousness.

"Hey, are you-"

Jason snarls breaking free of his captors and launching himself at the man who shot Lizzie. They were down on the floor. Jason on top wailing on the man. His knuckles getting bloody. Logically speaking, you should stop him or at least try. On the other hand, Lizzie's death still stung. There was also a brutal efficiency to his strikes each landing where it would hurt the most. Wait. How the hell is he even out of his cuffs? You make a mental note to practice getting out of handcuffs or to at least get pointers from him.

It takes a surprising amount of time before they actually restrain him again. It was either from shock or they just really didn't like their coworker. The man on the ground is wheezing and bloody when another takes him away.

They tie them to a post.

You let out a heavy sigh riggling against the rope. "You really do excel at being a pain in the ass, don't you?"

"It's just my dazzling personality, sweetheart."

"Ah yes, the one that won you an all-expenses-paid trip to this wonderful Gotham warehouse."

"You're here to dipshit."

You open and close your mouth to protest, to say something snarky but he was right. You decide to stay silent.

"You're worth a lot of money, right?" Jason asks, breaking the silence with a level tone.

" Uh, the guy I'm dressed up as is, yeah. Why?"

"You're not Tim Drake?"

"According to my birth certificate, no.  But they don't know that so can it. "

"You're going to die." Jason sighs on the opposite side of the beam. You can't quite picture his sharp features into something soft but you like the idea.

" Thanks, sunshine. "

"Unless you can pull a plan out of yer ass-"

"I do have a plan." Kind of.

"Well let me hear it, genius." He jeers, tugging on the ropes so he can turn to you. From the corner of your eye, you can see him looking at you intently.

"Sit here and wait."

Jason blinks at you trying to process what you just said. "Great. Wanna make tea cozies while yer at it?"

Your nose scrunches up indignant. "Still working better than yours. At least, I don't have a concussion!"

"Got any more salt you want to rub in my wound, Tom?" You can't see it but you can practically feel him roll his eyes.

You full-on snort laugh at the comment. You definitely blame Dick for your affinity to shitty jokes.

"Well-"

"So which one of you is the Sionis kid?" the man asks, pointing a gun at them.  

you and Jason try to look at each other.

"Don't lie." The man adds hastily. This is probably his first abduction. You felt kind of bad. Part of you even wanted to give him a few tips.

"Brilliant idea. They'll definitely answer." The man behind him snarls rolling his eyes.

"Shut up, Larry."

The men continued to bicker leaving their hostages mildly bewildered.

 What would Tim do? Tim wouldn't be in this situation. Wait. Yes, he would. I'm giving him too much credit .

You decide negotiation is your best option.

"He's the real Jason Sionis. " You said flatly leaning your head towards him.

Jason looks at you incredulously. He looks betrayed but his face is too hardened and jaded for it to show fully. Unfortunately for both of you, You could feel it oozing off of him.

"How do we know you aren't lying?" The first man says pressing the gun to your forehead. You can still feel the trembling in his hands.

“I have my driver's license on me. My wallet. It's in my coat pocket.”

The man reaches into your coat pocket and pulls out Tim's wallet.  Your skin begins to prickle uncomfortably from the close contact.

" Ha! See. It worked."

" Yeah. Yeah. So what do we do with this kid?"

"I can pay you to let me go!"

"How do we even know he's worth anything?" Someone shouts from faraway.  

"Mo's gotta pretty good point."

"Did the $2000, puke-covered suit not give it away?"

"Nah, it's the puke-covered $1000  dress shoes." Jason quips more venomously than you anticipated. His sarcastic grin was still etched with the barest hint of betrayal.

You death glare him but you couldn't really tell him 'Don't worry I just need to call my vigilante brothers to help you.'

"Ok, ok, those are also  good points."

"Plus, haven't you heard of Drake industries?"

"What do you do? Make ducks?"

"No, you idiot. They- Never mind. How do we know you're good for it?" Larry hisses.

"We really should ask the boss first."  Mo pipes up again.

As if on cue, a large man clad in black and a scowl that would make anyone wither.

You vaguely recognize him from one of the cases Tim was working on but no name comes to mind. Bryan? Brent? Something along those lines.  

“Let me call my family. He'll even let you see him sign the check.” you plead as sweetly as you can.

The man in charge looks at you making you shrink.  On a good day,  you’re a decent fighter given you have your cane, you weren’t sloshed, and the man you’re fighting isn't built like a goddamn brick wall. Right now though even as they untie you, you can feel yourself trying to curl up.

But as much as you want to, you need to make it out alive. If for nothing else than to spite your youngest brother.

"Please. Jus- just one phone call."

Giving you another appraising look, he hands you the phone. Does he know? Are your freckles finally showing through the makeup? You shake your head but the shiver doesn't go away.

It's good for your acting , you tell yourself.

The phone rings. You breathe deep listening to the dial tone. For your sake and possibly Jason's,  you have to keep a level head. The place smelled of seawater. The building was big and barren with little to nothing in it. By the looks of it, it was one of Gotham harbors 'rare' abandoned warehouses. You look around, making sure to fidget. It was dark but you could see a 13.

"Hello, who is this?"

Fuck.

A/n: Thanks for reading!

[taetaesbaebaepsae]

BTS When Crush Asks Them to Give Them a Hickey Final Part

Summary: It’s been a long road since I got this seemingly specific request, but everyone loves it and here we are doing a final part 3 before I move on to thirstier requests

Warnings: a little angst, a lot of fluff, gets sexy but honestly I cut it off before the smut because I may or may not write more in this universe and maybe connect it to some of my smut requests

Word Count:2328

Jungkook

When Jungkook wakes up the next morning and hasn’t gotten a text from you, he’s instantly worried.

He tries to call you three times and when you don’t pick up, he heads to your house.

You’re dead asleep, having passed out again on the couch after breakfast with your friend from the party, and you groan when you open the door to see Jungkook standing there, all nervous energy.

He takes you in, disheveled hair and your ex’s old baggy tshirt, and you didn’t remember you had wiggled out of your jeans until you look down at your bare thighs and squeal a little, pulling down your shirt.

He takes in a deep breath and looks into your eyes. “Are you okay?” His voice is soft and low.

“Yeah, Kook, I’m fine, I’m just hung the fuck over.” 

He nods shortly, working his tongue against his inner cheek. “Good.”

He turns to leave and gets halfway down the hall before you’re yelling his name, peering out the door to save what little dignity you had left.

He comes back at your call but he has his head down, shoulders squared.

“Come in, okay? I’ll make some coffee or something.” You say softly, and he steps inside.

You close the door but he just stands there in the doorway and you inch around him to go and make coffee, ignoring your state of undress.

It’s halfway done when you pour a cup for you and Jungkook, and you turn expecting him to have sprawled on your corner couch by now.

He hasn’t, and you’re a little surprised to see him still standing in the doorway looking pissed off.

“Oh...kay..” You say, warily handing him the coffee, lots of cream and sugar, just how he likes it.

He takes it with a huff and when you go and pull your knees up in the corner of the couch, he sits down next to you, putting his mug on the coffee table.

“I take it you had a good time last night.”

You stare at him over your coffee, mouth open in shock that he was still angry about the argument you’d had.

“No, I did not. Who would have a good time when you just yelled at me and stormed out like that?”

“Well, I don’t know, you sure look like you had a good time. Did he just drop you off in his shirt and nothing else?”

His face is red now and he’s staring you down.

“Oh, wow, Jungkook, why do you sound like you’re jealous right now?”

“Maybe I am,” he snaps at you, and you almost drop your coffee.

You place it on the coffee table gingerly and turn toward him.

“Jeon Jungkook, a question: what the fuck?”

“I like you, ok?” He says, and now he’s blushing instead of angry, or maybe a combination of both, you’re too hungover to tell.

“You like me?” Your mouth is open in an ‘o’ of surprise. “You what, like me like me?”

“What does that even mean? I’m in love with you, you idiot!”

Then he groans and puts his face in his hands. 

You take his hands in your own, pulling them away from his face, and he is poking his tongue into his cheek again.

“Are you serious right now?”

“Of course I’m serious! Why would I make an ass of myself in front of all your friends if I wasn’t serious, Y/n?”

You hold your hands up, backing off a little at his tone.

“Ok, ok! It’s just...we’ve been friends for years and you’ve never-”

“Well I don’t know, Y/n, maybe you asking me to kiss your fucking neck made me look at things in a new light.”

You can’t stop your laugh at that. “So what do we do now?”

“I don’t know! I guess you could start by telling me if you like me too.”

“Of course I like you!”

The redness starts to fade from his face and his lips quirk up in a smile. “So you like me like me?”

“I’m in love with you, dumbass,” you say, and lean over to kiss his neck.

He flinches in surprise but then lets out a low moan as you suck and nibble, leaving a reddish mark.

He grabs you under your arms and pulls you into his lap, bucking up beneath you and making you gasp.

You lean down to kiss him, though, and he turns his face away.

“Did you hook up with that asshole?” He asks, looking down at your shirt and then back up at you.

You roll your eyes and tug your ex’s shirt over your head, tossing it on the floor.

Jungkook swallows hard, his eyes on your breast.

“Does that answer your question?”

Jimin

You find yourself with a venti caramel frappuccino at Jimin’s apartment door the next morning, because you feel like he definitely earned a reward for his acting last night.

He comes to the door with his eyes bloodshot and tired, and you hold up the drink meekly in apology.

He takes it and pulls his hand back inside and closes the door in your face.

You stand there, shellshocked, for like thirty seconds before he opens it again.

“Come in,” he mutters, sucking down the blended coffee.

You come in and sit down your purse, sipping your own drink.

“How’d it go after I left?” He asked, and he sounds almost nonchalant.

“You want details, perv?” You tease, hoping the weird vibe of the night before has faded and you can go back to being best friends again.

Jimin stiffens at that and kind of slams his drink down on the table, stalking into the living room.

You follow him slowly.

"Um, Jimin, you gonna tell me what's going on or..."

He turns to look at you, running his hand through his hair. "I've known you for ten years, Y/n, and I know that you can't possibly be this fucking stupid."

Sudden tears spring to your eyes at his harsh words. "Why would you say that? You asshole!"

You are livid that he's able to hurt your feelings in this way and so you stalk over and go to hit his chest in frustration. He catches your wrist, looking down at your shirt, which is unbuttoned a bit.

His eyes look almost hungry as he staring at the marks he's made on your chest. "Looks like he wasn't nearly as much fun as me," he murmurs, voice going from angry to seductive just like that. "He didn't leave any marks."

"Who are you right now, Jimin?" You're looking at him almost in awe.

He lets your wrist go, brushing his hair back again and huffing out a breath.

"I'm Park Jimin, your best friend since you had a constant ring of red around your mouth from refusing to use chapstick in the seventh grade. You met me when I was the dorky kid who used to get nose bleeds after gym class, but I'm not that kid anymore, Y/n. I'm a man now."

You look at him in utter confusion and he sighs again.

"I didn't mean to call you stupid. I just...you must know. You must know, right, and you're just teasing me. Because this is mean, I'm really hurt, and-"

You cut off his babbling by literally placing your hand over his mouth.

"Ok. Slow down. Back up. What in the actual fuck are you talking about?"

He mumbles under your hand. "I take it back, you are stupid."

You drop your hand, frowning at him.

"You're really gonna make me say it? After all this time?"

You just look at him expectantly.

"I love you," he says, voice almost cracking.

You are unmoved. You say this to him and he says it to you all the time.

"Yeah, so?"

Jimin shakes his head, chuckling, beyond exasperated.

He pulls you closer, making you squeal in surprise, and kisses every one of the marks he'd made, wet and open mouthed, heating your skin.

"I'm in love with you, Y/n. I have been since we were 15. You're telling me you didn't know that?"

He's looking down at you, mouth open, and his lips look so plump and inviting but your head is spinning.

"I most definitely did not know that," you say quietly.

"So?"

"So...?"

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth impatiently. "So are you hung up on that idiot still or are you gonna be my girlfriend?"

You can't help but smile. "Oh, those are my only options, then?"

"He's not really an option, is he?" His voice goes deeper, eyes darker.

"Oh, I don't know....maybe," you demur, but you're trying not to smile.

"Don't make me mark you up all over again," he almost growls.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," you tease, and finally, he laughs.

Soon enough, you're sitting cross legged across from each other on the bed again in a roundabout to where he'd first kissed your chest, but this time you're both smiling.

"Do you think this will get weird?" You ask, a little nervous.

"I could get weird if you wanna get weird," Jimin says, deadpan, and you snort out a laugh.

When you cover your mouth, embarrassed, Jimin is looking at you with such fondness in his eyes that it makes your chest tight.

He leans in closer and closer, but before he kisses you, he trails his fingers over the ring of marks on your chest.

"You're all mine now, yeah?" He asks, voice low and breathy, and when you nod enthusiastically, he crashes his lips on yours.

Taehyung (V)

Taehyung called you at the crack of dawn, asking if you could meet him at his place and talk.

You headed over after coffee and a shower, wondering what was going on with him.

When he opens the door, he looks like he's dressed to go out, black slacks and white button up, expertly unbuttoned to show a bit of bronze skin. You could tell he had just showered because his hair was wet and slicked back, showcasing his perfectly groomed eyebrows that you'd always been so jealous of.

"You got a hot date, Tae?"

He flushed a little, looking down at his outfit. "Kind of."

You don't like the way your stomach drops when he confirms that, but you swallow hard and play it off.

"You look handsome," you say, and he smiles brightly at you.

"Don't let it go to your head," you mumble as he ushers you into the living room.

You plop down on the couch but he's still standing, looking fidgety and nervous.

"Did you have a good time last night?"

He's looking down at you intently, as if that were a much more serious question than it was.

"Sure," you say, and he frowns.

You sigh. "Don't be mad, Tae, I know you went through a lot of trouble to pretend to be my new man or whatever, but he asked me out and now I'm just not that into him. If it takes all that for him to like me, he's probably not worth it."

He's still frowning.

"Aw, Tae, are you really mad?"

"Of course I'm mad," he said calmly, but that was no indication of how he felt, you knew from being friends with him so long.

"It wasn't that bad, right? You had fun at the party."

He frowns deeper. "I did not have fun at the party. I had to sit there and watch you flirt with the guy you actually wanted while I pretended to be with you, and now you don't even want him? Why would you torture me like that?"

You laughed a little. "Don't be a drama queen. I know it was uncomfortable, but torture?"

"Yes!" He exclaims, coming toward you, frustrated. He kneels on the floor in front of you and takes your hands in his. "It was torture from the moment you asked me to mark that beautiful neck of yours. To be so close to you at the party, have you smiling up at me and then turn on a dime when he showed up...to have you so close but not have you at all...it was torture."

You look down at him, mouth agape. "That was beautiful, Tae. Is it for your acting class or something?"

Taehyung groans and rests his forehead on your knee for a moment. When he looks back up at you, his eyes are deadly serious.

"It's not an act, Y/n. None of this has been a fucking act." He does sound angry, now. "I don't want to pretend to be your boyfriend. I want to be your boyfriend for real. Is that clear enough?"

"Crystal," you squealed, mind racing.

He sighs and leans up on his knees. "Okay. So I know this is a lot and you'd probably like some time to think about it-"

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, and he makes a surprised hum in the back of his throat before he grabs the back of your head and slips his tongue in your mouth, kissing you deeply.

When you pull back his eyes are almost hazy, mouth red.

"Can we skip the part where I confess and tell you I've had the hots for you for years and you just take me to bed?"

"I don't want to skip anything," he says in a hoarse whisper. "I want to do all of it with you."

You groan as you stand up and take his hand.

"There will be time to be romantic later," you promise, and he lets you lead him to his bed with a boxy smile.

You still can't make him hurry, though, he spends long moments looking into your eyes, stroking your hair, and when you grumble he smiles and kisses your throat where he'd marked you, just as he did before.

[dobrikburrito]

Hey can you do a part two for David being a little bitch and not appreciating y/n???

& Anonymous said to dobrikburrito: Please make a part two to that little blurb about David being a bitch

a/n: apparently i don’t know the concept of a blurb and this is so big but i love it. 

I woke up at 6 am to a notification on my phone. For a second my brain had an immediate response of thinking it was a text from David. Oh, it was David, but not a text.

It was a notification for his new vlog.

I sighed, no messages or calls from him throughout the night. I buried my face back in my pillow and returned to sleep.

I woke up near 10 am. No texts or calls. Leaving my phone behind, I went to take a long shower, trying to distract my mind with anything other than him. I treated myself, hydrated my hair, exfoliated my skin, did it all for me. I deserved it.

I did my hair and put on a nice outfit. I wasn’t really going anywhere or had any plans in mind, but you know what they say about feeling the worst: you gotta look your best. It does give you a little motivational upgrade.

Deciding I needed some lattes and sweets, I grabbed my keys and left my apartment. Smoothly lied to myself and forgot my phone. I could use the time away from all my expectations. After getting everything I needed from Starbucks’ drive thru, I made my way back. Curiosity got the best of me and I picked up my phone.

7 texts from David ♥

11 missed calls from David ♥

2 voice mails

My heart skips a beat. Half of me knows this routine is part of his life, it’s part of who he is and I shouldn’t be mad since I knew what I was signing up for. The other half of me also knew after posting a vlog there was a small window before it all started again. I loved him with all my heart, but I needed to let him know this was making me sad. I couldn’t put up with this for much longer.

Then Jason called me. Obviously. I didn’t pick up because I knew David would be listening.

A couple of minutes went by and  Zane facetimed me. I knew David probably asked him to make sure I wasn’t dead or anything.

“Hey baby.” I smiled softly at him once I accepted his call.

“Hey mama,” Zane smiled at me widely. I could see he was at his place, lying on his couch. “How you doing?”

“I’m good, you?” I fixed my hair, trying to seem happier than I was. 

“I’m good too. Are you sure you’re okay?” His tone was very giving on the fact that he was worried.

“I’ll be okay sweetie. Don’t worry about me.” I shrugged, trying hard to smile.

“Since you’re one of the smartest people I know, you probably know why I’m calling you,” Zane was always straightforward with me which was one of the reasons I loved him so much. “Just give him a call, okay? He’s worried sick and sometimes David takes a minute before he realizes he’s screwing up a good thing.”

I chuckled. “Oh, don’t I know it.” I shook my head, looking down. “I’m just taking a moment to think about everything, that’s all.”

“I understand baby. I just love you two too much to see both of you so sad.” Zane was legitimately like a big brother to me.

“Okay, I promise I’ll give him a call.” I smiled at him. “I love you Zane, never forget that.”

“I love you too baby. Call me if you need anything ok? Just say the word and we’ll either gain 5 pounds eating ice cream or get ourselves hella drunk.”

Instead of calling David, I decided to show up at his house. A call would just lead to that anyway. I let myself in, not finding him anywhere in the living room or kitchen, but quickly hearing his voice and Jason’s up in his room.

“I just don’t understand why she would talk to Zane and not me. Not even answer any of my texts or calls.” I could hear David pacing in his room. “Yesterday she wouldn’t even come home with me, acted all weird. I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

“David, you know I care for you a lot.” Jason started. “But sometimes you tend to prioritize work and I see (Y/N) standing there for hours unattended. It didn’t happen one or two times and you know it.”

David sighed loudly. “But this is my life, my career.”

“And (Y/N) is your girlfriend.” Jason pointed out with a nod.

David looked at him for a few seconds, knowing he was right. “Do you think she’s gonna break up with me?” A chill of fear ran through his whole body.

“You need to get your shit together David. You need to make room for (Y/N) in your life. Compromise. She does it all the time for you. It needs to go both ways.” Jason reasoned with him and I smiled, reminding myself to give Jason a hug later. “Or you’ll end up losing her.”

David ran his hands through his face. “I can’t… I can’t lose her.”

“I don’t think that’s gonna happen…” I said, walking in his bedroom and surprising both of them.

“(Y/N)…” David said, his jaw to the floor. He quickly walked towards me and hugged me tight. “I was worried sick something might have happen to you.”

Jason shot me a knowing smile, then got up from David’s bed and walked out of the room.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Jason said. “Also, you’re too good for him.”

David flipped him off behind my back and earned a laugh from Jason. Once he let me go, I closed the door behind us. I still hadn’t said anything else.

“Are you okay?” David asked me, looking all over me for bruises or any good excuse for ghosting him all day.

“Yeah, I’m fine…” I started saying, getting cut from him soon after.

“Then why didn’t you answer any of my texts or calls?” His tone was a little demanding, which triggered me in a bad way.

I sighed and walked into his room, immediately regretting coming back. But I did love him too much to leave him hanging for longer or to not even try to fix it.

“Feels good to wait on someone else, doesn’t it?” I sat down on his bed.

“So, it was payback from yesterday?” He now had a petty tone.

I sighed again. “No, David, it wasn’t payback. I’m not a child. I just took one moment to think about everything and how I felt.”

“You need to think our relationship?” Now he was saying like it was something surreal.

Ugh. “Yes, David. Surprising as it is, I don’t feel so great about it right now.”

That caught him off guard. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“No. I’m trying to work things out.” My voice was soft now, a little tired. “David. I feel like I’m always following you around. I’m always the one who clears the schedule, changes plans, to go wherever you wanna go. I’m always restraining myself because I know you get jealous when I talk to other guys, even if it’s just friendly. But I’m also the one who needs to watch you filming instagram models all the time. I’m your main support and I feel like I’m always waiting for you to realize I’m here.”

David was looking at me throughout all of my confession. After I finished, he sat next to me.

“I didn’t know you felt that way. You could’ve told me.” He said, staring at the floor.

“I did, though!” I closed my eyes for a second, only confirming how he barely listened to me. “I did it yesterday, the day before that. After that party with Charlie. After Kristen’s birthday party. I do it all the time. You just… don’t take it seriously, because you believe that I’ll always be around.”

Every word out of my mouth was a knife to my own heart but I knew he was hurting as well, knowing how messed up things had become. I looked down to hide my own tears.

“I know how important your work is for you. That’s why I try not to complain or demand things from you. But feeling like second option every time hurts.” I whispered it.

“You’re not… second option, (Y/N).” David looked at me, noticing the teary eye. “I love you.”

“I know you do.” I sighed and nodded. “But love has nothing to do with attention. Even right now I feel like such a bitch for asking this from you and honestly it’s such a basic aspect of a relationship.”

He went to take my hand on his, caressing it with one hand and holding it with his other.

“I don’t know what to do to make this better.” David whispered to me. “Tell me what to do.”

“You know, for once, I really wanted you to realize it by yourself without anyone else telling you.” My voice was a little harsh but I was being honest, tears start rolling from my eyes and he looks at me, his expression completely heart broken. “Maybe you need some time to figure that out, David.”

He looked up at me, fear in his eyes. I got up and started walking towards the door, David followed me before I could leave and grabbed my arm, turning me around.

“Please, don’t leave me. Please, please.” Both of his hands were now in my face and his eyes were watering. “I love you, I need you. I can’t do this without you. I’ve been the worst boyfriend to you and you deserve better, I know that. But let me be better, let me make it up to you and I promise you’ll never feel unloved again. I hate myself for doing this in the first place, but please, just… give me another chance. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time and I’m sorry I took you for granted.”

All the right words for the man you loved was making you smile mid tears. I nodded and kissed him a million times. “Please don’t hurt me again.” I said as our foreheads touched. “I’m believing your words and I love you and I really want us to work.”

He gave me one deep kiss. “I love you so much.” He kissed me again. “I’m going to show you that every single day.”