#the manager really said 'stop tearing yourself to pieces the hotel's gonna do that anyway' lol

[zombified-queer]

managerboy — "Why do you love me?" "Why do you question my love?"

New love language just dropped. It's a seventh one. It's acts of violence, yeah.

It’s a slow night. Upstairs, the guest is still unaware of their own death. The Lobby Boy’s allowed to stand close to the Manager and watch with her. Nothing happens, which seems to bore the Manager.

“Why do you love me?” she asks, turning her face away from the screen.

“Why do you question my love?” the Lobby Boy asks in return.

The Manager doesn’t move. Her face, just a silhouette in the gray glow of her screens, is all angles. She doesn’t even breathe.

The Lobby Boy stammers, “Ma’am, I—I’m—“

“That’s the first time you’ve stood up to me,” she notes.

“Sorry.” The Lobby Boy picks at his upper lip, finding a mild relief for the fear in his blood. “I know I’m not—“

“Don’t.” Her voice cuts him off like a blade. “Don’t apologize for having a spine, for once.”

An apology forms on his lips before he swallows it down again. He peels another strip of skin off his lip and winces when it bleeds.

The Manager gets up from her place at the desk and unties the ascot around her neck. It’s a washed out salmon tonight and the Lobby Boy’s thought of it as hideous. Like raw muscle.

Pressing the fabric to his lip, the Manager clicks her tongue. “What am I going to do with you?”

The Lobby Boy leans into the press of fabric against his sore lip. He shrugs. Mostly because he knows she’ll tell him not to talk.

She almost has her fingers in his mouth. Touching his teeth and tongue. The Lobby Boy tenses. She’s even standing close to him. So close he can smell her: floral perfume, cigarette smoke, and just the faintest sickly sweet of rot.

He could hold her hand. He could push her hand away. He could do a hundred things at this distance. Every thought makes him ball his hands into fists, tighter and tighter.

“Hey,” she says, thumbnail digging into his left wrist. “Stop it.”

He nods, slowly, and relaxes. She pulls her ascot away from his lip and lets go of his wrist. Her hand grips his jaw, tilting his head back so she can study his lip.

“It’s stopped. Don’t pick at it again.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She leans in, kissing his jaw. Her lipgloss is sticky on his skin and the Lobby Boy doesn’t necessarily like the feeling of it. But he might like it better if she was wearing lipstick. Something boldly red like blood.

Behind her, the guest begins to scream on the screens.

The Manager makes a noise of irritation. She holds to Lobby Boy’s jaw for a second longer than she should. And then she lets go.

The Lobby Boy’s holding her ascot, spotted with his blood.

[underkita-archive]

polyester

kita shinsuke | w.c 2k

a/n: sigh pain,, this is inspired by the song heather by conan gray! i was walking my dog when the song came on and i was like huh, what if i just write a leetle something? which became u know,, 2k words,,,, anyway uh note that this not really an x reader fic,,,

now with the companion piece cotton

set post-timeskip

warnings: just sad, poor use of past tense honestly i struggled so hard, unrequited feelings/love, some tears being shed, feelings of regret

On the second day of your first year of high school you meet Kita Shinsuke. 

Quiet, collected, Kita Shinsuke. 

It had been completely by luck of the draw. You could remember your nerves, still afraid of navigating the ins and outs of high school when there was a gentle tap on your shoulder in the first year hallway. 

“You dropped this.” He’d placed the notebook in your hands before you could stutter out a thank you, left to watch as he approached the Miya twins with a stern look.

To call it love at first sight may have been an exaggeration, but at the time you couldn’t help but color it as such.

His cool demeanor and dedication to a sport that hardly rewarded him was far more admirable than you would’ve liked to admit. So you had found yourself at few more volleyball matches than someone who never cared for the sport.

And when Miya Atsumu came careening into the classroom one frigid morning spouting nonsense and demanding one of the girls in your class volunteer to be the volleyball club’s team manager you couldn’t have stopped yourself from raising your hand if you tried. 

He wasn’t even captain yet, but the two of you worked closely. Staying behind to clean up after the raucous first years, careless second years and overworked third years.

The only ones dedicated enough.

Somewhere in between those late nights cleaning and those early mornings prepping, between the quiet whispers and watching him become more and more dependable.

You had fallen in love.

It hadn’t surprised you, you knew you were doomed from the start. Since that one lucky day in the first year hallway, you knew it had been a matter of when not if.

There had been more than enough opportunities to confess your feelings, to free yourself of the endless nights of pining, of being tormented by all the what ifs and almosts.

Yet you watched in perfect silence as your first year melted away. Watched as Kita earned the right to being called captain, and let yourself be consumed by the role of the doting team manager. 

Once again you had found yourself letting the months roll by, allowing your feelings to rot away at your insides, suffering in the way he seemed to form a kind smile solely for you, living for the quiet praise and approving nods he’d occasionally offer.

“Why don’t you just confess?” Your friend had said, tired of the sad way you would carry yourself after a particularly taxing day of spending too much time in Kita’s proximity. 

“Nationals, I’ll tell him when we win nationals.” You promised, trying to convince yourself that it would be the right time, a poor attempt at trying to conjure up a speck of bravery. 

By the time Nationals had arrived you had prepared your heart to the best of your ability, ready to see your team take their rightful spot as the champions.

And when they didn’t, whatever courage you had cobbled together shattered. So you sulked. Standing on the balcony of the hotel, staring up at the light polluted Tokyo sky, shaking from the biting cold.

“You’ll get sick like that.” You hadn’t thought your blood could run any colder until his voice interrupted whatever pitiful thoughts had been running through your mind.

“I-It’s...fine.” You hoped he chalked down the stammer in your words from the weather over nerves.

“Mmm. Don’t stay out here too long.” You nodded your head, keeping your eyes focused on a flickering star struggling to make its presence known when there was a weight on your shoulders. You couldn’t help but snap your eyes down, the familiar shade of maroon now hanging over your body. 

And what should’ve finally been said that night was left in the air, left struggling like that little star in the sky. 

With a heavy heart you watched him graduate, watched as time kept moving without bothering to let you catch up.

◇ ◆ ◇

Years later you can say with confidence that your school girl crush has aptly faded, telling yourself that there was never a need to confess.

Until your phone beeps late one Thursday night.

Engagement dinner. 

Your eyes scan over the text, once, twice, again and again until you lose count, until your chest feels tight and your face burns and what were once feelings you thought had faded start rearing their ugly head.

You won’t allow whatever leftover hormonal thoughts poke and prod at what you’ve built up. You’re older, wiser and most importantly you’ve moved on. 

So you clean up nicely, put on something nice but not too nice, just a touch of perfume and only check twice in the mirror before you walk out the door to call a Lyft. 

The restaurant is unfamiliar, nestled in a cute little neighborhood. It’s fitting for Kita, it’s homey and cozy but nice enough for the occasion. 

You try not to choke as he approaches you, a grin too large splaying across his usually serious face, oddly enough it fits, furthermore it hurts.

It takes you a second too long to notice the woman beside him, the sight of his arm tucked behind her back as she curls into his side, she offers you a shy yet refined smile. You barely catch her name, the overwhelming sensation of the past creeping up on you, tearing down whatever walls you had carefully built over the years.

They show you to the table, Aran, Akagi and Gin already there with their charming and familiar smiles, yet the lovely reunion is unable to distract you from the way he pulls out her chair, making sure she’s properly settled before he takes his place beside her once more.

You think of the maroon jacket that had weighed so comfortably on your shoulders that freezing Tokyo night, you think of the words that laid on the tip of your tongue, so close yet so far as Kita patted your head and returned back inside.

The lost opportunity.

Only to have the once sweet memory dashed away at the lightness of your left ring finger, as you’re forced to witness the woman beside Kita rest a perfectly manicured hand atop his, the ruby gemstone set on a golden band gleaming so beautifully in the low restaurant lighting.

“Captain! Sorry we’re late! Congratulations.” Miya Atsumu with his usual loudmouth tears through your concealed pity party, a small smile finding its way to your lips at the way Osamu trudges behind him with that special irritated look reserved solely for his brother.

“It’s just Kita, I haven’t been your captain in years.” He rises from his seat, taking his bride-to-be’s hand and introducing her to the ever famous Miya twins. 

“Sure sure, manager-chan! Looking good!” He’s by your side in seconds, thick arms already pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“You’re gonna break her ‘Tsumu.” 

“Shut it ‘Samu, I would never.” His hold only tightens at the statement, the rippling of his muscles against your body causing an undeniable rush of heat to bloom across your body. 

“Enough of that.” You laugh, wiggling out of his grip with an exasperated laugh.

A few more former players of Inarizaki pour into the restaurant, old memories tossed around with endearing fondness and one too many congratulatory toasts leaves your heart aching worse than before, regret eating away at you, the inevitable question of what if cycling though your thoughts. 

“Doing okay?” Atsumu’s closeness is nothing new, somewhere over the years your boundaries had skewed, his face being a little too close was to be expected at this point.

“Sure.” It’s a noncommittal reply that Atsumu would normally call you out on, but he accepts it only after letting his gaze linger on you for a moment.

The minutes tick by as Kita retells the picturesque proposal he had carefully planned, unfiltered adoration and fondness adorning his eyes.

Lovestruck. 

An expression you had wished this man to have focused on you just a few years ago. 

What if?

The question taunts you, what if you hadn’t been a coward? What if you had said it that night? Or any other moment spent by his side? Would it be you? 

Another sip of the bitter wine offers no reprieve from the taunting thoughts, whatever mask you had been donning the entirety of the night starts to wear down, you can feel it slipping out of place. 

“Boy am I sweatin’!” Atsumu barks out, knocking his shoulder against yours, true enough his cheeks are tinted a soft blush, eyes glossy from one too many beers.

The exclamation causes a few snorts and chuckles around the table, a scathing comment from Osamu and a faux jeer from Suna.

“Maybe you need a walk.” You mumble, picking at the food you had long abandoned earlier in the meal. 

“Ya know what? You might be onto somethin’, let’s go.” His fingers are around your wrist before you can register what he’s saying.

“Atsumu what?”

“C’mon, say bye!” 

“Atsumu!”

“You be safe, thank you for coming.” Your head spins as Kita offers that same smile, still a little too wide as he offers a nod and turns back to his fiancee. Atsumu tugs at you again, only for you to shake him off, turning properly to the happy couple. 

“Congratulations Kita-san. I wish you both,” You swallow the bitter lump in your throat, “I wish you both unending happiness.”

You’re turning on your heel before you can receive a reply, biting back whatever pent up emotions threaten to spill over as you rush out of the restaurant, practically running down the sidewalk fueled by the desperate need to get as far as you possibly can. 

“Hey hey slow down!” You don’t bother slowing, let alone stopping, knowing fully well the professional athlete chasing after you will catch up in a matter of seconds. “I said slow down.”

The second his hand touches your shoulder whatever walls left standing come crumbling down.

“It hurts.” It’s nothing more than a whisper before he’s turning you around to face him, a hand still planted on your shoulder as the tears that have been welled up for nearly five years begin to fall. The tears you hadn’t allowed yourself to shed.

“I know.” His voice is pained as he draws you closer, letting you close the distance as you lean against him. The trail of tears burns against your cheeks, they’re filled with shame, with unspoken words, with unrequited love. 

It’s almost poetic, the way you two stand there in a broken silence under the flickering light of one of the odd stores dotting the street. It feels like hours pass by, the initial ache in your chest starting to lessen as you meet his gaze.

“Could you... consider me?” There’s something profoundly sad in his eyes, an exhaustion from years spent quietly resigned from confessing a truth that you were all too familiar with dotting his expression. 

“I,” can’t, “don’t know.” 

“I know that I’m not him, I don’t think I can be anything close, but just, do you think you could?” There isn’t the slightest trace of his boyish charm nor the cool demeanor he normally holds in serious situations. He feels smaller, more exposed and for the first time in all your years of knowing him.

You can see weakness.

“I can’t make any promises.” It feels almost too soon, a little rushed for you to be able to make sense of anything that’s transpired, you don’t want to hurt him, you don’t want to lead him on. 

“I can wait,” a wistful quirk of his lips rekindles the ache from before as an expression you’ve surely worn in the past washes over his face, “I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”

And in a matter of two, maybe three seconds, the world seems to tilt, just a few degrees, just enough for the angle to change, for that memory of the muddled Tokyo sky to shift a few inches to the right from the struggling star to the one shining in softly in the distance.

Your hand moves before you can even think, fingers curling around Atsumu’s chilled ones, intertwining them carefully as you offer him something akin to understanding, something a little deeper, not quite sure what you’re truly conveying.

“Just for a little bit longer.”

[yeojaa]

ANGELS & AIRWAVES (w. jjk)

He's never met you but you know how he sounds when he wakes up from a nap and his greatest fears.  You know the way he sings after a shower and that he could be mistaken for a dying seal when he's laughing too hard.  The best part?  You don't judge him for any of it - including the fact he's a filthy Widow main.  He might just love you.

alt summary.  Jeon Jungkook has a big fat crush on a girl he's never met.

pairing.  jeon jungkook

genre + rating.  fluffy crack, smut.  explicit.

warning / tags.  long-distance relationship, crushes, canon compliant (ish),  eventual happy ending, gaming, gamer!jungkook, strangers to lovers, friends to lovers, overwatch, oral (f receiving), fingering, enough sweetness you’ll get cavities. 

reading.   n/a.  a three part one-shot.

word count.  ~8400

part iii.

JUNGKOOK’S HOTEL ROOM Sunday, 3 May, 2020.  12:20 AM (LA), 4:20 PM (Seoul).

There’s nothing quite like the feeling after a show.  How it crowds cavities behind his molars and sets his heart off on a marathon, exhilaration colouring his cheeks and stealing his voice.  It’s something he’ll never get tired of - all the best parts of this journey presented on a silver platter. 

Still, he thinks talking to you might be a close second.  

“I can’t understand a single thing you’re saying,”  you chide, playfully, with a mouthful of granola.  It crunch crunch crunches in his ears, blocking the sound of his own laughter, ringing and half out of breath.

“I said I’m sorry.  I’ve been so busy.  Things have just been—”  Crazy?  Out of this world?  Some kind of wonderful?  “—hectic.”  He all but throws himself across his bed, the luxurious hotel sheets soft against his still overheated cheek.  It feels nice but steals the strength of his voice, muffling his words as he continues, like a runaway train with no destination in mind. 

You laugh at him as you always do, mirth sprinkled over teasing like little treasures to be found among the vowels and consonants.  “It’s fine , Jay.”  The name - not his name - rolls off your tongue, dragged out by the giggles you can’t help.  “I know you’re a busy guy.  Don’t worry about it.”

Easier said than done, Jungkook thinks.  You’ve been on his mind every day, in between the practices and the performances.  A silhouette shaped like you - not that he knows how you’re shaped - existing in the recesses of his thoughts. 

“Anyway, I finally stopped losing SR so it’s not all bad...”

He doesn’t register what you’re saying.  Not at first, anyway.  But when he does?  He’s belligerent, the loudest shriek rocketing out of his chest as he dissolves into laughter.  So you were a little bit better than him.  “Hey!”

“Hey yourself, sandbag.”  

Your mockery shouldn’t have the dumbest smile spreading like wildfire but it does, the expression eating up every ounce of his exhausted self.  He can’t fight it, glee working itself every which way until he’s on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his jaw aches.  

“You’re mean,”  he manages in between the teeth-numbing joy, chest heaving.

He’s certain you don’t mean it the way he takes it.  “And yet you love it.”  

God, if only you knew.

He wants to tell you so badly - wants to shout it from the rooftops until he’s blue in the face and without a voice.  He thinks he’d have a chance, maybe, if your passed secrets at midnight and tender goodnights were any indication.

But he can’t, because he’s him and you’re, well, you, and really, it’s just his fault.

“Did you die?”  You steal him out of his reverie, tearing him wholly from inside that overthinking head of his.  It’s one of the things you’re best at (other than keeping him alive in Overwatch).

He sighs and it’s a wistful sound, softer than any other that’s passed between you since getting on the phone fifteen minutes ago.  “I’m good, yeah.  I’m fine.”

“You sure?  I thought I might’ve lost you for a second.”

The playfulness has returned, rounding syllables in a way that’s very distinctly you.  

“Yes, Mom .”  

“Watch it or you’re grounded, young man!” 

“Do you even know how old I am?”  Probably not, because he doesn’t know that about you either.  

For all of the secrets you’ve shared, these very basic pieces of information are ones you’ve never exchanged.  They’ve always been held tightly to the chest, held hostage behind sharp gates of enamel. There was too much at stake when it came to these identifiers.

Sure, you’d told him about your greatest fear - losing one of your parents without being able to say goodbye - and sure, he’d told you his - not being good enough and letting the people he loves down even when he’s trying as hard as he can - but your ages?  Where you grew up?  Your real names?  That was out of the question.

“Are you about to tell me you’re sixteen?  Have I been friends with a high school student this whole time?”  You’re chuckling at your own genius.  He really doesn't think you’re that funny - low hanging fruit and all that - but he likes the way it sounds, curling out of your mouth like smoke.

“I’m actually twelve .  Geez, get it right.”

You gasp, scandalized and as if you really believe him.  It makes him choke on his own spit and he has to roll over onto his stomach, effectively trapping his phone between his chest and the bed as he struggles to regulate his breathing. 

“I’ve always wanted a little brother!”  

It’s a joke.  Obviously , it’s a joke.  He shouldn’t take it seriously.

And yet he’s fueled with the need to rebuff it, speaking before he has a chance to stop it, the words coming in a flurry.  It’s a verbal snowstorm, locking the conversation in place - like Mei’s ultimate except he’s trapped in it, too.  “I have something to tell you.”  There’s no going back now.

For once, you’re not tearing holes in his confidence - not that you ever do with any sort of animosity.  Your relationship was equal parts give and take, honey and vinegar coexisting in perfect harmony.

When Jungkook doesn’t immediately continue, you give him a little push.  “Spit it out, Jay.”

“My name isn’t Jay.”  A small, insecure part of him worries that that’s enough to shatter the careful friendship you’ve crafted.  You - Jinny, the ineffable - remain surprisingly silent.  He’s not sure whether that’s encouraging or disheartening.  “I… haven’t really been honest with you.”

Already he can feel the nervous energy in his limbs, anxiety replacing the high he’d been on only an hour ago.

“I’m…”  How does he start?  “I’m not just… some guy.”  Okay, that sounds bad.  He’s backtracking.  “I mean, I’m a guy.  I’m normal.”  This is going so poorly.  His breath catches in his throat, teeth worrying incessantly over the soft cherry Chapsticked contour of his bottom lip.  “I’m just not, y’know, your average guy.  I’m actually like, uh...”  

Jungkook has never stuttered this much in his entire goddamn life.

“My name’s Jeon Jungkook and I’m the golden maknae of Bangtan Sonyeondan.”

It comes in such a rush that you probably don’t hear it clearly.  He’s introduced himself this same way for over half a decade and even it sounds strange to his ears.  

When you don’t respond after what feels like an eternity, he’s left to his own devices, filling the silence with the erratic beating of his heart. 

“Jinny?”  It comes smaller than he means it to, uncertain and filled with hesitation.  Still, nothing.  He wants to toss himself off the 37th floor balcony so he doesn’t have to feel this way.  “Can you say something?”

Your voice is far more measured than his own.  You’re trying to be serious, he thinks.  “I… kind of - sort of - already knew?” 

Well, he hadn’t expected that.

“What?”

“I mean, the other members don’t exactly knock before they barge into your room screaming your name.”  A beat.  He can hear the laughter that’s threatening to knock your words into submission.  “ And you posted a cover of a song I sent you.”  

Dammit.  Dammit dammit dammit .

That was definitely his fault.  It’d just been so good - living in his head and in his heart rent-free. “ Never Not’s a good song!”  He retorts, like that’s an appropriate rebuttal.

“I know, doofus.”  

“You’re the doofus!”

The two of you were back, glazing over the revelation like it was nothing more than a little bump in the road.

“Thank you for telling me, though.”  He imagines you’re smiling - can practically hear it in your voice.  Somehow, it feels different.  Sunnier than usual, blinding in its intensity.  “I wasn’t sure if you ever would.”

“Would you have been mad if I didn’t?”  Though he asks, he’s not sure if he’s ready for the answer.

“Of course not.”  

“Really?”

You’re only a little exasperated when you reassure him.  “Of course not.  You’re still you - no matter what you do.”

Whatever best case scenario he’d imagined doesn’t hold a candle to this.  He’s a million miles over the moon.  You must be able to tell because he can hear you stifling sound, trails of laughter buzzing around in his ears like hummingbirds.  

“So, what now?”

“What do you mean ‘what now’ ?  Didn’t you hear what I just said?”  There’s no venom in your words.  “You’re still you, Jay.”

“It’s Jungkook.”  There’s that unabashed need to hear his name.  He hopes it isn’t too obvious.

“I know but that’s gonna be hard to get used to.” 

“Is your real name Jinny?”  He’s always wondered.

“It’s Yoojin.  Jinny’s just my nickname.”  

“Well, Jinny—”  He says it dragged out and silly.  “—want to come to one of our shows?”

“I live in Seoul.”

“So what?”

The second time sounds exactly like the first.  He snorts.  “I live in Seoul .”  

"I’ll fly you to Osaka.”

It’s the first time he’s heard you genuinely shocked.  It strips the usual mischief from your tone, draping it in lily white and baby’s breath.  “You don’t have to do that.”

“I want to.”  He doesn’t think he’s wanted anything more.  At least, not in a very long time.

“Thanks, Jungkook.”

It sounds better than he could have ever imagined.

KYOCERA DOME OSAKA Thursday, 23 July, 2020.  10 PM.

Does he smell bad?  Should he have showered first?  Would you be grossed out?

These are all the thoughts running through his mind, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail.  They revolve in a neverending merry-go-round, creasing worry into his brow and dropping his mouth into a little O-shaped pout.

“You ready, Jungkookie?”  Jimin’s doing what he does best - draping himself across his maknae’s shoulders without a care in the world.  

“Are you nervous?”  Hobi’s swiping through his phone, dark hair a stylishly dishevelled mess around his angelic face.  He’s still got traces of makeup around his eyes and his clip-on earrings glint under fluorescent light.  

A hand lands hard on his shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle in a way that’s meant to be reassuring.  “Of course he is.”  Namjoon can read him like a book, shooting Jungkook his signature smile in the same instance he receives one.

“I’m not nervous!”  The youngest chirps in a voice that warbles like a baby bird.

Everyone laughs at that and he can feel his ears burning around the edge of his baseball cap. It creeps over the shell and down his neck, descending blossoms of colour into the collar of his shirt.  

“Shouldn’t you get going?”  It’s Yoongi that reminds him of the time, the rapper only barely cracking an eye open as he taps the face of his steel-cased Audemars Piguet.  He’s right.

Jungkook jolts out of his seat, scrambling to his feet - all four thousand dollars of his designer boots - and nearly knocks Jimin off the back of the couch he’d been precariously balanced on.  The overeager bunny shouts an apology that’s lost amongst even louder laughter as he tears out of the room. 

He’s going to be late .

He doesn’t think he’s ever ran so fast in his life - darting past bicycling seniors and tourists with all the grace of a boy in love.  He somehow manages to find the entrance of the BIC CAMERA store without much hassle, rooting himself just left of the door when his phone screen registers 10:30 PM.

A little triumphant whoop! presses into the sponge-like material of his facemask in the same moment he catches sight of a waving hand.

He’s not sure whether it’s the mask or the sight of you that’s making it hard to breathe.

“Hi.”  You sound exactly like you always have and yet six months of hearing your voice somehow doesn't prepare him for it.  It hits him like a ton of bricks, crashing his resolve into the soles of his feet.  There’s something about you that makes him squint - like staring directly at the sun.  His heart stutters in his chest.  He thinks, dimly, he can hear bells in the distance.  It’s probably from a food stall, but he doesn’t care.  

It’s the first meeting he’s always dreamed of, wrapped up in an adorable pink Cooky headband. 

He’s scooping you into his arms before he can think better of it, twirling you around like the princess you are.  It probably isn’t appropriate - you’ve only just met - but he can’t resist.  You feel so good in his arms, weightless and yet entirely grounding.  

The fact that you’ve wrapped your arms around his neck, easily reciprocating his onslaught of affection, doesn't go unnoticed.  He tucks away this knowledge into the sleeve of his shirt for safekeeping.  

“I’m so sorry,”  he says, though he doesn’t sound very sorry at all.  You’re back on your two feet, black military boots of your own on solid ground once again.  

Standing so close, he can smell your perfume.  Its notes of vanilla and cola and something powdery, reminiscent of babies and home.  You’re smaller than he imagined, with narrow shoulders and wide hips.  Like him, you look to be about 95% leg, faded blue denim hugging your thighs and falling loosely around the tops of your Doc Martens. Your top is long-sleeved but semi-sheer and he can make out what he thinks are inkings over your skin, little trails in greyscale and colour that draw his stare.

Stop being weird , he tells himself when he finally manages to refocus, tearing his gaze from the jasmine branches that traverse your limbs and training it on your eyes instead.

Bad idea, Jungkook.

He’s lost in the colour of your irises - an impossibly dark brown that twinkles under the awning lights - and the heart-shaped turn of your jaw.  He’s all too distracted by the high contours of your cheeks, the turn of your button nose, the dusty pink that fills the shape of your mouth and fades prettily against your skin. 

“You look like you’re about to pass out.”  The way your lips move should be a chargeable offence.  They coax into a smirk that’s equal parts soft and vexing, singular dimple presenting itself with the motion.

God, he’s so in over his head.  He can feel it in his bones.

So he laughs - because that’s what he does when he’s unnerved - and the sound is a pack of hyenas.  It’s Lion King on Broadway, sweeping above the already boisterous cacophony of the entertainment district. 

“Your laugh is even better in person.”  You’ve said better and not worse and even though he’s a little self-conscious - a decidedly not Jungkook-like thing to be - he preens from the praise.  

“Yeah?”  Can you see the hearts in his eyes?  He imagines they’ve replaced his pupils. 

“Yeah.  But don’t let that get to your head, mister.” 

“Already has - sorry.”  

You laugh in sync and it’s music to his ears - the prettiest sound he’s ever heard. 

The two of you fall into your routine in a way that feels effortless, the back and forth banter rivalling that of best friends.  

You tease him mercilessly, picking up on all his little idiosyncrasies - how he stands at stop lights, pigeon-toed and adorable; how he jams his hands into the back pocket of his jeans in tandem with the tips of his ears burning bright red;  how his laugh sometimes trips over itself and splinters like a kid going through puberty.  He doesn’t mind any of it, truthfully, because it means you’re paying attention to him just as much as he is you.

Because he sees all of your little habits too - watches them unfold before his eyes in technicolour.  You bite your own lip when you think you’ve said something particularly funny.  You wiggle your head on your shoulders like a bobblehead when he says something snappy, equally biting remarks softened by the way you bob up and down.  You don’t step on cracks, even if it means you’re straining those strangely long legs of yours to carry yourself a few inches further.  

You don’t have any patience - something he’s known since the beginning - but that he realizes with a front row seat when you’re shoving a takoyaki into his face.  There’s steam curling off it and the smell is intoxicating but he can practically feel the roof of his mouth burning when you’re relentlessly offering it to him.  You’re not even deterred by the fact that he’s got a facemask on. 

“Open up!”  

Jungkook wants to say no - should say no, for the sake of his own health - but he accepts it anyway.

It sears white hot pain the moment it lands on his tongue, teeth buzzing uncomfortably as he bites into the dough.  He’s sucking air in through his teeth, the cold barely doing anything to alleviate the sting.  He probably looks stupid as hell.  

Of course, you’re laughing at him, lips curled in on themselves as you try to choke back the sound. 

“Too hot?”  You coo, feigning surprise.  You do feel a little bad - he can see it in the flex of your jaw, how your bamboo stick-wielding hand lingers in the space between you.  “My bad.”

He chews once, twice - tries to keep it to a minimum because holy shit , does it hurt - before swallowing.  It burns on the way down.  “You eat one now.”  He’s pushing the tray towards you, long fingers curled around yours as he all but tries to make you face plant into the plate.  

“I don’t like squid,”  you deadpan, lying through those neat white teeth of yours.  You’d literally made takoyaki at home a few weeks ago.  He’d dared you to put an entire wasabi ball into one and you’d done it.  

“Shut up.” 

“You shut up!”

So it goes for the rest of the night, trading insults over street food.  You share an ice cream-filled melon pan - well, he orders one and you eat all of it but a bite - and you scroll through your phone as he inhales a bowl of ramen.  He catches you taking a picture of him when he’s halfway through slurping noodles into his mouth like a Hoover.  You look a little sheepish when he swallows and levels you with a look that screams unimpressed.

“Is this okay?”  You’re a little uncertain and it’s the cutest thing he’s seen all night, teeth catching your bottom lip.  He wonders, briefly, what it’d be like to do that to you instead.

You beam when he reassures you.  “Of course.” 

“I won’t post it anywhere.”  

He wants to tell you that’s okay, too, but he knows he shouldn’t.  Instead, he simply returns your smile and goes about finishing his bowl of broth.  You take a few more photos - of his face when he’s full-belied and satisfied, of the street where people mingle and mix, of the stupidly big moving crab sign across the way.

He wonders if you can feel it too - the connection that crackles between you like a livewire. 

“Thank you for bringing me here,”  you return your attention to him in the same instant he’s glossing over the shape of your lips, the turn of your nose.  “I’ll pay you back.”

Before he realizes what’s happening, your hand is on his.  You don’t do very much, simply allowing your palm to rest over his, fingers curled around the seam of his thumb.  It’s so much smaller - complete with neatly manicured lilac nails - that he stares down at it for a beat too long.  

You start to pull away - he sees it happening almost in slow motion - when he flips his own, catching your wrist in his grasp.  “No need,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you.  He’s still too focused on the way your hands fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

“We’ll see about that,”  you return, equally as soft.  

Everything feels a little fuzzy, like you’re wrapped up in cotton candy and cloud nine.  

You must feel it too.

But then you’re standing and you’re not holding his hand any longer and he thinks maybe he’s imagining it all over again.  It leaves him heartsick, reaching for your figure that’s already too far away.  

“We should head back - I have an early flight tomorrow.”

Damn him and his poor planning skills.  He should’ve booked you something later in the day.  Why had he thought the 9 AM departure was the best idea? 

“Right.”  He lifts himself off of the wooden bench, returning his facemask to its rightful place as he closes the distance between you in four easy strides.  He tries to ignore the way you smile at him when you’re back together, matching pace through the somehow still-packed streets.

There’s no playful ribbing now.  The schoolyard mockery is replaced with a comfortable silence that sinks into his bones and brushes his hand against yours every time you have to squeeze past a gaggle of people that just won’t move.  It’s familiar without being boring, satisfying the big fat crush that lives in his heart. 

It settles even further when you do the same, head gentle against the curve of his shoulder.  

“Did you have fun?”  He finally asks when the familiar silhouette of the Conrad Hotel comes into view, your driver rolling to a complete stop right in front of the impressive glass structure.

You hum something that sounds like yes as he pays and thanks the driver in the softest Japanese before he ushers you out of the back of the cab.  You’re smiling at him, heavy-lidded and with a tenderness he doesn’t expect.  You must be tired.

“More than I’ve ever had.”  There’s a certain truth to your words, whether it’s from your sleepy state or something else.  “I can’t thank you enough.”

“You don’t have to,”  he reminds you, guiding you past the concierge with a palm on the small of your back.  It’s intimate in a way he’s not really sure is appropriate but you don’t seem to mind, all too happy to be herded around like a baby duckling.

“Stop saying that.”  There’s no weight behind your words - only sandman’s dust and starry-eyed affection.  Jungkook’s heart plays a staccato rhythm in his chest as he steps into the lift behind you, crowded against the far right wall.  Mozart would be proud. 

Trapped in the small six by six area, his breath seems too loud.  The roar of his pulse in his ears is deafening.  He barely hears his own words when they stumble out of their own accord.  

“I like you.”

Your laugh is the sweetest he’s ever heard.  “I know.”  

“You do?”  He rounds on you in the same breath, your body mirroring his subconsciously.

“Of course I do.”  You’re so confident he absorbs a little bit of it, stepping closer when you do. “I’m your safe place - and you’re mine, too.”

His hands are shaking when they crowd your face, thumbs gentle over the jut of your chin.  “Can I kiss you?”  Spoken like a child asking for a Christmas gift, full of wonder and hope.  

“Hm.”  The vibration of your sigh is felt through his fingers all the way down to his toes.

He decides for you, closing the distance with a roll of his shoulders.  

Kissing you is unlike anything he could’ve ever imagined.  It’s better than his wildest dreams.  It’s soft and sweet and done with the utmost care, like you’ll break if he isn’t careful.  You taste as good as you smell - the citrusy tang of your lip gloss reminding him of Lotte World lemonade and picnics on the Han River. 

“I’m sorry.”  It’s an unnecessary apology that gets lost against your lips - because he isn’t quite ready to let go of you yet.  “I couldn’t help it.”

“You’re forgiven, I guess .”  

When you speak, it’s kissing in its most basic form, mouth brushing over his with each enunciation.  He wonders what it’d be like to have you sing a song for him like this.  He decides he wants to find out as soon as possible.  Needs it like he needs air - or more of you.  Either or.

“Thanks.”  

You laugh together and kiss again and again, repeating the motion like overeager high school students behind the bleachers.  He grazes your forehead, pressing sweetness into the tops of your eyelids and you return the favour, sweeping delight over the sharp turn of his jaw and over skin not hidden by the collar of his button-down. 

You’re so involved that you hardly notice when the lift doors slide open, revealing the empty hallway of the 33rd floor.  You break away first, though it’s not without some resistance - both his and yours.  He wants to keep you here with him as long as he can, because it feels like where you belong .

“I’ll see you.”  A last kiss - lingering, longing, littered with words neither of you say.

And then you’re gone.  

JINNY’S APARTMENT Saturday, 5 September, 2020.  2:45 PM.

You live in a nondescript apartment in a nondescript neighbourhood with trimmed hedges and a crisp white exterior.  There’s a doormat - grey, a little frayed at the edges, polka-dotted - and nothing else.  No sign on your door, just the number 134 stamped on the right-hand side, half a foot away from the window that looks into the open-air hallway.  

You answer the door on the first knock, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed like you’d been lingering just behind the frame, waiting for his arrival.  Your hair’s shiny and freshly washed, damp at the ends where you haven’t wicked all the moisture away.  You look comfortable - if not a little overexcited - bouncing from sock-clad foot to sock-clad foot in your low slung sweatpants and oversized tee shirt. He can see half a dozen plants just behind your bobbing head, his gaze bouncing between pretty ceramic and terracotta pots.

“I half expected you to live in a PC bang,”  Jungkook states, drole and with that trademark grin of his, nose scrunched and eyes waning.

You counter him easily.  “You haven’t even been inside.  Maybe it’s all a front.”

He snickers at the thought, stepping over the threshold once you’ve taken a step back.  It smells like cinnamon and sugar - he wonders if you’ve been baking - and he peers curiously around the apartment.  

“It’s a candle,”  you supply before he has a chance to ask, reading the question in his stare.  

“You mean you didn’t bake me a cake?”  

You offer an extended scoff in place of an answer, rolling your eyes as he unlaces his boots.  “What for?  Your birthday’s already passed.”

“It might not have.”

“It literally has.  I know your birthday.”

Right.  Because he’s him and that’s sort of common knowledge. 

He chuckles to himself as he sets his boots aside, right beside where yours sit, near identical.  He doesn’t need to say anything when he hears you sniff, Rilakkuma-tipped sock nudging his hand away from where it threatens to upend the piece of footwear. 

“I had them before I met you.” 

“Right.”  It’s too easy to tease you - just as it’s too easy to rib him.  This is how the two of you are.  Schoolchildren with big crushes and near zero emotional maturity. 

“Do you want a tour or are you just gonna be some weirdo with a foot fetish?” 

He meets your stare then, both of your expressions ice cold.  If looks could kill .

You crack before he does, though your laughter melds together like a perfect harmony, ricocheting off the art-covered walls.  

“Fine, fine.  Show me around.”

So you do - with gusto and great pride.  It rolls off you in waves, tangible in the cascade of your hair over your shoulder and the way you beam up at him.  You’re like a kid at show-and-tell.

You guide him into the living area - a small space with a comfortable, worn-in grey couch and probably more throw pillows and blankets than is strictly speaking necessary.  There are framed pieces on the wall and it’s the contents that surprise him.  There’s Mercy playing pool, bent over the table in a revealing Playboy bunny one piece;  there’s D.Va in a hoodie and little else, bottles of soju littering both the back and foreground. 

Where the walls are bare, there’s other stuff taking up the space.  Artfully positioned floating shelves house succulents and cacti.  A well-cared for Monstera sits in a far corner, taking up more space than it probably should.  Nestled among its soil are little Animal Crossing Amiibos - Cyrus and Reese, to be exact.  There’s an all-white cabinet with a glass front and some of the most random stuff he’s ever seen:  limited edition Gunpla, a Taiko Drum, and your framed university degree (for accounting, to his great surprise). 

“Is that a Widow bobblehead?”  He spies it last, sitting on the cabinet that houses an impressive array of gaming consoles.  You even have a VR headset, the cords neatly looped together and tucked away beside a maneki neko-shaped piggy bank. 

“Maybe.” 

“You really are a dork.”

“Says the bigger dork?  Really?” 

He could dispute that - easily - but he doesn’t, instead shrugging it off as he flops onto the couch, feet immediately kicking themselves up. 

“What’re you doing?”  You join him even as you ask.  He’s a little disappointed by the polite amount of space you leave - just enough that you’re not touching.  

“I’m tired.”

“I haven’t finished the tour.”

“Tour schmore .”  

You scowl at him and it’s so charming that he wishes you were just a little closer.  He’d kiss that look right off your face if it were up to him.

“What do you want to do then?”  Where the stuffed animal comes from, he’s not sure.  It’s more than a little ratty, soft brown fur faded from what looks like years and years of love.  You hold it tight, clutched to your chest as you recline against the far arm. 

“Watch the Runaway and Lunatic-Hai show matches?” 

You level him with a look that very much tells him he is the bigger nerd.  He doesn’t mind, though.  He’s been wanting to watch these matches for months since it was first announced.  

Unfortunately, you’d promised each other you’d only watch it together, so really, this was your fault.

You must suddenly remember that, because you’re biting back the words he’s sure were about to tear into him, swallowing them whole as you grab your PS4 controller and begin silently navigating through YouTube.  He smiles, a little triumphant thing he knows you can see from the corner of your eye.

“Happy?”  Resentment mixes with excitement as you return your controller to its rightful home and settle yourself once more against the too-many pillows. 

“No.”  Jungkook worries for your neck when you whip to look at him, brow furrowed and mouth blown out in a pout.  

“Why not?”  

He memorizes the way you look right now, framed against sunlight that spills through your windows and hugging what he assumes is your childhood teddy bear.  It’s an immediate serotonin boost.

“Because you’re all the way over there.”  He sighs, long and loud, head swinging in a dramatic semi-circle.  He can hear you snickering despite yourself - could pick it out in a crowd of thousands, he thinks - and suddenly you’re beside him, distance closed in a heartbeat.

With you so close, it’s hard to think, his thoughts jumbled and tripping over themselves. 

“Better?”  You must know the effect you have on him, because you’re batting those goddamn eyelashes up at him, mouth dancing around his favourite sound in the world. 

“Much,”  he hums, unashamed.  

“Welcome home, Kook.”  The way you say it sparks fireworks in his chest.  He knows you mean home as in the city of Seoul, but it feels like more and he likes that - just like how he likes you and this little piece of normalcy.

It feels good to be here with you, seemingly without a care in the world.  

It’s distinctly different from anything he’s used to - even better than the long hours spent bonding on the internet.  There’s no worry here, no nagging in the back of his mind, no concern that one of his hyungs will burst into his room.  It’s just you and him and commentary on his favourite game. 

That is, until it’s just him and commentary on his favourite game.  He’d lost you somewhere along the way, roughly three hours in.  He hadn’t noticed at first, far too focused on the big brain plays unravelling across the screen, but when you started snoring, he knew. 

You just snored so damn loudly.

“Jinny.”  He feels bad when he has to rouse you, the feeling in his right leg but a distant memory.  

You don’t move.  He wonders when the last time you slept was. 

“Jinny,”  he repeats himself, a little louder this time.  There’s the beginning of stirrings, your head drifting from its position on his shoulder to nestle into the crease of the couch cushions.  “Do you want me to take you to bed?”  

It doesn’t immediately dawn on Jungkook how that sounds.

“Wouldn’t you like that,”  you mumble into the woven fabric, half-asleep.

“What?”  

“Nothing, nothing.”  You’re doing that thing you do when you’re impressed with yourself, teeth littering your bottom lip with indentations.  It’s more distracting than it should be, paired with those bedroom eyes he’s not certain you’re in control of. 

Get it together , he scolds himself.  In his mind, the angel powerbombs the devil into submission.

“Do you want to go to bed?”

“No!  Not yet.”  You’re waving a boneless wrist in his direction, like you’re swatting away an irksome fly.  It’s cute, in a frazzled sort of way.  

“You want to sleep out here?”  He knows you don’t - you’ve complained about it enough times when you wake up with kinks in your neck and soreness in your back.  

“No!”  A huff puffs out your cheeks, blows your grown-out bangs away from your face.  You’re sitting up now, slowly but surely.  There are creases all over your face - an ode to the couch.  He has to keep from laughing right at you - bites it back with a bitten tongue when you sniff and card a hand over through your hair.  “I have a gift for you.”  

You say it so sweetly, he can’t help himself.  

“Is it you?”

He’s honestly not sure what to expect once he’s spoken.  He half thinks you’ll laugh, shove him away from you with a giggle and a roll of your eyes.  He hopes you won’t, though - can feel every fibre of his being strung tight with anticipation and hope and the request of please, love me .

“Do you want it to be?”  You’re looking at him with the strangest expression.  He can’t read it at all, despite how easily he normally does.  It’s white noise, static on a television screen.

Uncertainty grips him.  “I do.”  

“Then I’m yours.”

It’s music to his ears - the key to his heart.  It strips away the doubt, turning it on its head.  

He finally does what he’s wanted to for the past four hours.  

When he kisses you this time, it’s different.  It’s urgent but not rushed;  he takes his time in exploring the softness of your lips, how they fall open under his careful ministrations.  His mouth slants, coaxes you to give everything to him as his tongue passes tentatively over yours.  You taste like lemons again - and a touch of honey.

It’s intoxicating and addictive and he chases the high it gives him, large hands finding purchase against the back of your head and the slope of your jaw.  Fingers thread through your hair - gentle at first, then with more purpose.  He maneuvers you how he needs you and peppers kisses everywhere he can reach.  Your eyelids, your nose, your neck.  

When he ghosts his mouth across your shoulder - mouthing hot over the soft cotton of your shirt - and finds that particular point where your pulse beats, you gasp.

He’d thought your laugh was his favourite sound but he realizes now how wrong he was.

“Do that again.”  You say it together, in perfect sync.

Laughter blooms between you and he muffles his against your throat, nosing over where your perfume lingers most.  He inhales once, twice, and holds you somehow closer, all but dragging you into his lap.  “You’re my dream girl, you know that?”  The words are surprisingly sweet, given the compromising position you’re currently in. 

“You’re not too bad yourself.”  You thread your fingers just as he has, twirling through his just-on-the-right-side-of-too-long strands. 

He moves to pull away, a scoff building in his throat, but you’re having none of it, capturing his lips the moment he’s made up his mind.  You really could read him like a book.  He wonders what you’re thinking now, starts running through possibilities when you bite down just so on his pouting bottom lip.  

A not-so-subtle hint to get out of his own head.

“Stop thinking,”  you hum, lending your voice to his thoughts.

“Sorry,”  he returns in kind, tracing an apologetic tongue over the seam of your lips.  

“Show me how sorry.”  

You sound positively sinful and while it isn’t the answer he’d expected, it stirs something within him - from his chest to somewhere decidedly further south.  He stifles a moan, caging it behind bared teeth as he becomes suddenly far too aware of how you’re making him feel.

“You’re playing with fire, baby.”  The pet name rolls off his tongue like it was made for you. 

“It’s fine - I have self-healing.”

It’s so fucking dorky but somehow, even that makes Jungkook groan.  “Seriously - dream girl.”  

And then he’s kissing you again and again, a devoted parishioner of your church.  They’re this-side of innocent at first, little pecks that dot every sliver of available flesh.  His hands roam in tandem with his mouth, flitting beneath the cropped hem of your top before gliding greedily across the tops of your thighs.  

“Can I get the rest of the tour now?”  He looks like the devil himself, all dishevelled dark hair and that heart-wrenching, lopsided smile. 

You’re impatient though - always have been.  “Straight down the hall.  Last door to the left.”

It’s all he needs to know before he’s on his feet, rising with you as if you were featherlight.  Your ankles lock around his waist, clinging to him like the cutest koala he’s ever seen.  He doesn’t look away - frankly, can’t – as he follows your directions, gaze trained on your eyes and your lips and the column of your throat he wants to see blooming with roses.

“I’m crazy about you,”  he announces, suddenly, as he nudges open your bedroom door.

“I know.”  You say it a lot.  He wonders if you really know. 

By the way you kiss him, he thinks you might have an idea.  It’s not enough, though.  He wants to show you - needs to show you. 

You allow yourself to be tossed upon your bed - soft grey sheets, no stuffed animals in sight, too many pillows again - and he hovers above you, curious.  “Are you sure you know?”  The question is punctuated by the drop of his knee, cotton of his black joggers a stark contrast to the soft linens.

You’re not sure if this is a game - he can read the question swimming in your eyes.  “Maybe?”  You’re upspeaking, which is something you never do.  It’s disarming in a way that makes him want to hear it again, but with his name over and over.

“Maybe?”  He echoes, brow quirked and mouth twisted into an expression that starts butterflies in your stomach.  It’s like a switch has flipped.  For the first time, he’s the heartthrob you’ve seen on stage, the one fansites rave about with fervour.  A force to be reckoned with .  “Let me make it clear then?”

It’s spoken like a question, though it begs no answer.  You’d give him anything he wanted.

“Can I?”  You don’t think you have it in you to respond - not when he’s looking at you the way he is, from behind dark lashes and with the most charming smile you’ve ever seen.  But he needs an answer - won’t go further until he has one. 

“Yes,”  you breathe in a voice that doesn’t quite sound like your own, far too airy and mellifluous.

He looks like a kid who’s had his heart’s greatest wish granted.  There’s unbridled joy spilling into every crevice, streaming out of every pore as he lowers himself onto the bed.  You’re trapped beneath him - knees situated comfortably on either side of your legs - when his hands find the shorn hem of your shirt, tugging gently at the offending article of clothing.

“Off,”  he says simply.  It’s gone before you can think twice.  Your sweatpants and socks follow in quick succession - he snorts a laugh when he has to tug your socks off by the ears on either side of your ankles - until you’re left in only black cotton that covers hardly anything at all.

Jungkook sighs a sound that shoots straight into the belly of the beast, sparking warmth in the pit of your stomach.

“You’re so beautiful.”  

He sees the uncertainty in your eyes, hands reaching to cover the places you’ve been self-conscious about since you were old enough to understand what bullying was.  The modest swell of your chest, the tiger stripes along your hips.  

Words are fitted with motion, hands of his own sweeping your arms away from your body. Long fingers curl easily around the dainty turn of your wrist.  “Please don’t hide from me.” 

You can’t deny him when he asks so nicely.

“Tell me about these?”  He means your tattoos, of course.  They’re intricate works of art that span nearly a quarter of your flesh, painting grayscale and colour over cream.  There’s the jasmine he’d spotted the night you met, coiled around your left forearm and up to your bicep in stark ink.  Across your stomach, from the top of your right thigh and over your ribs, are intricate peonies in shades of pink and red and green.  Everywhere lines bloom, etched forever into your skin, his mouth follows.  He can’t ingrain himself in the same ways but he tries, searing devotion in the form of kisses.  

It tickles when he ghosts over your ribs with both tongue and teeth and it’s absolutely indescribable when he catches your nipple between enamel.  

You make that sweet sound he so loves - a heady mix between a gasp and a moan - and he repeats the motion.  You hardly realize he’s speaking when he does it for the third time and adds nimble fingers to pinch and pull the other into the same pebbled state.

“ Tell me.”  He sounds like he’s laughing, trapped halfway down your body with his cheek pressed to the modest swell of your chest.

You’re not sure how you get the words out.  “My mom’s a big gardener.  She calls me her flower.”

“Her flower, huh?”  The question is muffled among your humble cleavage.

“Did I stutter?”  That earns you a sharp tweak to your nipple, the pain shooting pleasure through your limbs in a very unexpected way.  You’ve never been one for pain but the sight of Jungkook staring up at you, head cocked and hands full - well, there’s a first time for everything.

“You want to be nicer to me,”  he states solemnly, like he’s commenting on the weather or the 6 o’clock news and not palming your tits in his much larger hands and drawing out the sweetest murmurs of encouragement.

“I am nice to you,”  you retort - or try to at least.  You hardly get it out before it’s chased out by another one of those lovely sounds that Jungkook seems to be obsessed with. 

“ Nicer , baby.”  

As if to drive his point home, he straightens out, face suddenly dangerously close.  He crowds you with his entire frame, mouth finding yours easily.  It’s not the same sort of kisses you’ve shared all evening;  it’s a display of dominance, a reminder that articulates more than he can say. 

It’s also a distraction, you realize belatedly, with a gasp tearing its way out of your throat. 

Capable hands have found their mark, digits sweeping beneath the seam of your thong.  He lingers just shy of where you desperately want him, expertly trailing featherlight touches through your folds.  He never goes further - doesn’t stretch where you need him most. He’s careful not to brush your clit, focusing instead on the way you’re coating his fingers.

The shit-eating grin never leaves his lips - which never leave your mouth.  He swallows your whines in the same instant he’s pulling them forth, playing you like a fiddle without even really doing anything.  

“Can you do that for me?”  He coos against your neck, that damned voice of his dripping liquid gold into your ears.  

You have to focus hard on what he’s saying because his touch is so distracting.  “What?”  

“I said—”  It stings where his mouth connects, where his teeth nip and spill wine over porcelain.  He’s painting the prettiest pictures, signing his name in the form of broken capillaries.  “—can you be nice to me?”

You’d like to respond - really, you would - but he punctuates the question with the glide of his finger and you can’t do anything but arch into the sudden intrusion.  It feels so good and yet isn’t nearly enough.  

“Kook.”  You’ve never sounded this whiny in your life.  Even his name - one single syllable - hardly makes it past your lips without descending into a cry.

“Use your words , angel.” 

If every nerve ending didn’t feel like it was on fire, you might’ve yelled at him.  Instead, you can hardly form a coherent thought.  You’re too far gone, standing on the edge of a cliff as he teases you open with slow, measured pumps of his wrist.

“I need—”  He’s crooking the single digit within you, right against that spot that makes you see stars.   

“What do you need?  Ask nicely.”

“M-more.  I need m-more .”  A hiccup.  “Please.”  

“Like this?”  You’re empty all at once and then suddenly far more full, the stretch of two fingers stealing the breath from your throat.  “Or like this?”  The pad of his thumb finds your clit with ease, sweeping over the sensitive bundle of nerves once, twice, three times.  “Maybe like this?”  

He repeats his earlier movements, curling his knuckles in a come hither motion that has you sobbing out his name.

“That’s right.”  Ever the gentleman, he works you through your high, watching your face in rapt fascination as your first orgasm of the night crests and crashes over you, sending shockwaves through your system.  He admires the way your mouth falls open - full lips rounding in delight - and how your eyes screw shut.  

You’re the hottest thing Jeon Jungkook has ever seen.

“I’ve got you,”  he murmurs against your temple, never ceasing the slow drag of his fingers, the carefully measured flick of his thumb.  Even when you’re trembling with oversensitivity, he doesn’t relent, choosing instead to reposition.

His weight is gone as he settles between your legs, knees folded beneath him.  He only pauses his needy actions - almost doesn’t, when your hips roll in an apparent attempt to draw him back in - to strip you of your thong, tossing it somewhere over his shoulder.  

“Give me another, okay?”  

You aren’t given a chance to answer before he slips two fingers back where they belong and seals his mouth over your clit.  The coil he’d snapped earlier returns, tension increased tenfold as he alternates between sucking hard and licking, dragging his tongue over and around his fingers.  There’s too much stimulation.  You’re obscenely wet and you’re certain you’d be making a mess, if not for the careful way Jungkook’s devouring you whole, licking up every bit of slick.

“Kook.  Jungkook .”  His name sounds like heaven coming off your lips.  He replays it over and over in his head as he fucks his fingers into you, tapping a brutal rhythm against your g-spot.  He can tell you’re close again - can read it in the way your jaw tenses and your breathing goes erratic, lungs heaving. 

“Come on, baby.  Let go.”  The second orgasm hits harder, arching your back off the mattress as you fight to keep your knees from snapping shut.  You come with a hoarse cry, legs trembling like a leaf with the effort.  “That’s my girl.”  

He’s upon you again, this time crowding your space as he settles all one hundred and fifty pounds of himself beside you.  He anchors you in reality, preventing your boneless body from floating off by pulling you against his chest. 

“You did so good.”  

You accept his kisses readily, somehow managing to thread your arm around his neck despite the fact that you feel like you’ve just run a marathon.  

Being wrapped up in his embrace is like being home - warm and familiar.  

“I want you.”  

He laughs and you can hear the sound rattling around in his chest.  “You’ve got me.”

“That’s not what I meant.”  You sound a little petulant, like a child being denied their favourite toy.  

“I know what you meant,”  he retorts, squeezing your bare hip affectionately.  “But you’re also exhausted, so get some sleep.  Patience is key, remember?” 

You pout up at him with your messy bedhead and sleepy eyes and he almost gives in right then and there.  It’s nearly impossible not to, especially when you drag your hip across his, your ankle hooking his in a bid to bring the two of you somehow closer.

He doesn’t expect you to relent so easily but your yawn outs you, forcing itself past the cage you’re trying - and failing - to keep closed.  “Fine.” 

“I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“You better be.”  It’s an empty threat - you both know he won’t leave.  “I still have to give you your present, anyway.”

He feigns surprise then, snickering quietly.  “You mean it wasn’t you?”

You don’t have the energy to yell at him, so instead you dig your bony fingers into the vulnerable underside of his ribs.  He squirms away from the feeling but never really goes far.

“It’s a Mercy bobblehead, you butt.”  You yawn again, shiver running the length of your spine as you snuggle more closely against his side once more.  Jungkook tugs your duvet up around your shoulders, tucking you in tightly.  The action reminds you of why you’d bought the gift in the first place.  “I think you might actually be my guardian angel.”

notes.  the end of an era (and by era, i mean a fic).  this honestly turned out to be my baby, so i sincerely hope you enjoyed reading it.  i'll likely do some drabbles in the future, because i really, really adore this couple.  as always, let me know your thoughts.  xo

tag list.  @letmebeyour-sun​ @teawithbucky​

[dc41896]

Attention

Pairing: Johnny “Human Torch” StormxBlack Reader

⚠️: Tiny bit of angst (if it even counts really), also tiny bit of implied happy times, but mostly fluff💕!

Re-reading over your notes for what felt like the millionth time this week, you softly mumble to yourself the highlighted material hoping that everything would remain stuck in your mind for your practical tomorrow.

“Intramuscular means within the muscle and is given at a 90 degree angle. Intravenous means within the vein, given at a 25 degree angle. Subcutaneous: in the subcutaneous layer at a 45 degree angle. And finally intradermal-,”

“Psst....psst!!”

If only your boyfriend would stop being a grown man child and let you finish studying though.

“Yes Johnny?,” you sigh still looking down at your binder.

“Take a break, I want to show you something.”

“No Johnny we’re not doing that again.”

“I wasn’t talking about that princess,” he smirks moving to lean against the bedroom door frame. “Although I’m not complaining if you want more.”

Giving him a look clearly showing how you weren’t in the mood, he chuckles holding up his hands to show he was done joking.

“Seriously though I want to show you something, so can you please come with me?”

“Just tell me, or take a picture of it on your phone and show me that way. I really have to keep studying and don’t have time for a bunch of breaks.” Straightening up, a low huff leaves his lips as you hear him pad through the living room before coming back holding a new action figure posed as if about to throw a handful of flames.

“Look! It’s me!,” he beams squatting next to you holding out the toy for you to see.

“Mhm that’s nice babe,” you smile not really displaying the reaction he wanted you to.

“I see you’re having a hard time containing your excitement,” he retorts sarcastically, bringing his mini me back towards his chest.

“It really is nice babe, it’s just similar to some of your other toys that I’ve already seen.”

“But with this one, the little flame lights up. See?” Pressing the small button on the back to show the tiny, plastic flame glowing scarlet, a wide smile spreads across his face making you giggle.

“Yes very cool. Now if that’s all, I gotta get back to this okay?”

“Alright,” he sighs standing up to return to his spot on the couch probably cold by now. “Why don’t you come study out here? It’ll be more comfortable than sitting on the floor.”

“Because you’re watching tv and that’s gonna distract me.”

“Not anymore. The game’s off so I’m done for the night,” he playfully smiles stealing one of your study packets making you whine his name. “Cmon you know you’d rather sit on the big, soft, incredibly comfy couch.”

Wiggling his brows, you roll your eyes trying to focus back on the words in front of you, but as always, seeing his adorable pout was wearing you down. Plus the ache in your buttcheeks was really making the couch, or any soft piece of furniture for that matter, sound like heaven.

“And, as an added bonus, your incredibly hot, charming, all around amazing boyfriend will be there.”

“Johnny...”

“As!...support and to help anyway I can of course. What did you think?,” he feigns shock as you shake your head.

“Alright fine. But if you try to distract me just once, I’m kicking you out for the rest of the night, and you’ll have to either get a hotel, or crash with Reed and Sue.”

“Okay deal,” he chuckles helping you stand and gather the packets, pens, and highlighters you needed to continue your attempted all nighter.

Sat in the middle of the plush sectional with one of his legs draped over your folded ones and the other stretched out behind you, so far he’d done well on his agreement. He stayed busy on his phone watching sports highlights with earbuds attached to his head, and hardly ever touched you unless to give a reassuring hug when he could sense you were getting overwhelmed, or softly dance his finger along your arm making you smile. He even started quizzing you from whichever packet you were on as you lied just below his chest playing with his free hand.

From how he was earlier, seemingly a bit more clingy and not wanting to be away from you, something told you deep down this was all he wanted. Just feeling your body near him as you did whatever, no matter how boring the task was. And although a little distracting, you couldn’t be completely mad at him for his antics since deep down you know you wanted it too.

Honestly need may be the better word judging from your noticeably calmer state. Even Johnny could feel your heart rate gradually decrease to its normal speed through his body.

Soon his yawn began to trigger your own set and eyelids became heavy as the questions came slower along with your answers. You tried to fight it off, but apparently your body had other plans making it increasingly more difficult to open your eyes until both of your light snores were the only sound that could be heard throughout the room.

———

“Good morning Mr. Johnny Storm, Miss Y/N,” the computerized security system greets opening the curtains to reveal the bright sun and cause you to stir. Rubbing your eyes, you see all the packets spread on the glass coffee table quickly reminding you of your exam.

“Sherlock, what time is it?,” you ask in a panic as you sit up causing Johnny to shift slightly without opening his eyes.

Also, why he decided to name the computer system Sherlock, you’d never understand.

“11:30 am miss.”

Grabbing your packets as fast as you can, a string of curses fall from your lips as you run about trying to collect your things. By now you were supposed to be on campus looking over your notes one last time before going in for your slot time at 12. At this rate, you’d definitely be over an hour late and received an automatic zero.

“What’s the rush princess?,” your boyfriend tiredly asks stretching his arms over his head as he stands.

“I overslept and I’m late,” you sniff trying to hold back your tears as you search through drawers trying to find your scrubs. “Where are they?”

Joining you in the room, he tries to kiss your cheek only to miss you completely as you rush past him still looking for your clothes.

“Closet babe. By my suit.”

“Well what about the other ones since those need to be washed now?”

“In the basket to be washed.”

“You mean the same clothes in the basket I asked you to wash last weekend,” you retort changing into the faint ash smelling scrubs. Noticing you wiping your eyes a bit more frequently, he manages to grab your arm stopping you from wherever else you needed to go.

“Johnny seriously I don’t have time for this-,”

“Relax okay? Let’s try to call your professor and tell them what happened to see if you can get a new time.”

“It’s not gonna work. This isn’t an emergency situation, I just overslept like an idiot,” you answer pulling away to finish the rest of your morning routine in the bathroom.

He sighs hearing you bang about while pulling his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants trying to find the number for your school. His upcoming events list popping up though makes him deeply chuckle as he shakes his head.

“Oh honey...!”

“Johnny please don’t start. I’m already frustrated a-and overwhelmed trying to figure out what to do and just need to-.” Holding his phone in front of your eyes, you see his calendar showing all his important meetings and interviews, along with your test date.

Which wasn’t until next Monday.

Pulling your phone from your backpack, you go to your calendar to find the same thing making you feel even dumber.

“...S-So I don’t have my test today?”

“No princess,” he smiles coming closer to caress your face with both hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“And I stayed up all night this week studying for nothing?”

“Well not for nothing. You know your stuff now, so you won’t have to worry about it later.”

“Yea,” you sigh looking up at him as you hold onto his strong forearms. “Sorry for snapping at you about the laundry, and for kinda being cranky yesterday.”

“You were stressed. I get it.”

“But still, there were things I could’ve said differently-.”

“I forgive you,” he smiles leaning in to meet your soft lips with his in a needy kiss he’d been craving since yesterday. Biting your bottom lip as he just barely pulls away, your hands wander from his forearms to his flexed biceps, shoulders, and eventually chest stopping to graze your index finger along the small dip below his neck.

“Well since I don’t have an exam today and no classes, I was thinking...”

“Oh I think I know,” he smirks tilting his head lower to nip at your jaw and neck making you giggle.

“I help you do the laundry.” As soon as the sentence left your mouth, his stopped making you laugh harder while he groaned against your skin.

“Alright I promise it’ll get done today, but can’t we do it later?,” he whines with puppy eyes, lifting you so your legs could wrap around his hips as if trying to persuade you.

“Let me finish. We do the laundry so I can have clean scrubs and between loads, I give you all the attention I know you’ve been wanting that I wasn’t fully able to give this week.”

“Hey it’s not like I’ve been that-,” he tries to deny before meeting your eyes as if they were saying “really?”

“...yes please,” he smiles before his mouth returns to your smiling lips.

Taglist: @fumbling-fanfics @honeychicanawrites @honeychicana @lady-olive-oil @themyscxiras @melinda-january @lovelymari4 @maxcullen @literaturefeen @damnitaa @curlyhairclub @plokyu23 @fullofmelaninsarcasmandepression @nunubug99 @felicity-x0 @ellixthea @jnk-812 @jojolu @brwn-sgr @captainsamwlsn @wildfirecracker @nina-sj @iammyownlover @chaneajoyyy @secretmysteriousperson @scoop93535

If anybody wants to be tagged, has asked to be tagged but don’t see your name, only want to be tagged for certain people I write for (can be found on my masterlist), or no longer wish to be tagged just let me know🤓!

[bunny-bts]

She's Everything

Pairing: Yoogni x Reader

Summary: You moved and started anew in Korea, where you were so lucky to meet your favorite KPop idols. You've been happier the past two years than ever and all because you chose to leave romantic love in your past but you're unaware of your friends' feelings.

Warnings: maybe cursing?

Author: Based on She's Everything by Brad Paisley because this picture does things to me. Noone can tell me they don't listen to country. Part 2?

Words: a lot, I was copy pasting it to a word counter and got tired. For the record, wrote this after work so....

"Night guys," Yoogni pats all of the guys on thier shoulders. It had been a long day and he just wanted to go home and pick some strings, relieve stress. He sighs and leaves, twirling his car keys on his finger as he walks out of the studio. The sun had set hours ago and the stars lit up the sky now, he stops to look up at it for a second before walking to his car and slipping in and noticing that he had gotten a message saying he needed to do a live video. He slid his phone up on his dash and leaned his head back on his chair and groans before sighing and driving home, well the hotel room. Quiet, it was quiet, he wished he was back in Korea with you as he tosses his phone on the couch and keys on the kitchen bar table and flicks the lights on. He kicks his shoes off by the door. He made his way over to the couch and sets the laptop up for a video. Reminding himself to put on a smile as he leans over and grabs his guitar. Immediately the video has comments flooding up, he waves and gestures his guitar and explains he had a long day and wants to play. Just like that, song suggestions fly in, he can't even keep up to read them all but he catches the one that he was hoping to see. Yours. "Play something country," he shakes his head and smiles. He can't out right say Y/N and acknowledge you but he finds the chord and starts playing and you know he saw your comment. He plays and his mind wanders, he just focuses on the music and memories of the past few years flood his mind

She's a yellow pair of running shoes

He doesn't realize he is about to laugh as he starts singing because of the memory. It was maybe six months ago when you and Jungkook, being the idiots you both were and the same age, decided that you wanted to race to see who would buy the other cake at lunch. You won, despite your legs not being as long they carried you just as fast. You wanted to do it barefoot but Jin and Namjoon wouldn't allow it, you insisted the shoes slowed you down. Truth was you just hated wearing shoes. You did start taking off barefoot but they said no because it was on pavement, much to your annoyance. Your shoes were yellow because they were a dirty pair of what used to be white knock off converses and they just got dingy with age. Come to think of it, you may have actually been faster without them, you had some powerful feet.

A holey pair of jeans

All of your damn pants had holes in them. All of them that fit you at least, you either bought them ripped or there was one pair you sandpapered a rip into and wore so much that the fashionable little rip turned to a giant gaping hole in the knees because the strings popped and faded away. God, your jeans aggravated him.

She looks great in cheap sunglasses

You were frugal. He remembers a trip to a mall one time with you and Jungkook, and Joon. Joon wanted to visit the sunglasses shop because he had broken yet another pair. As Namjoon tried some on and he leaned on the door waiting for you all because he just wanted to sleep that day. "Y/N, try these," Joon hands you a pair and he remembers watching. "Ray-Bans, ey~ she got them Ray Bans-," you tried them on, "I can dig it," you make your rapper face in the mirror until you see the price. "What the fuck? Oh hell no, you just gonna break them anyway. Come-on." Then you dragged the boys out by their hands and told Namjoon to drive to a gas station. You walked out wearing a pair of shades, your hair blowing in the breeze and sun shining down on you. Ofcourse he was looking at your cut off daisy dukes but his eyes in that moment trained in on the sight of your face and he was glad you and the guys weren't paying attention. You looked so damn good in them, and you looked like for a split second you felt like you looked good too. You walked over to them, "three dollars, you're welcome," you smirk giving them to RM who immediately broke them trying to put them on his face. "Okay, six dollars, I'll be back"

She looks great in anything

Despite what you thought, you did. His favorite thing for you to wear would be lingerie but he's never seen that, imagined it yes, but that's different. His favorite thing he has seen you wear is a good pair of jeans. Jeans when they don't have holes. They hug you nicely, paired with a navy blue v neck blouse you have and he is done for. It's all he can do to not say something to you. You did maybe three times a year max do this, but, wear lip gloss, that made his knees absolutely weak. He has known you for two years now and you've done that three times, once to church, once to go clubbing with them at a beach, and once just because but it had to be a somewhat special occasion for it to happen.

She's: "I want a piece of chocolate"

This was a recent memory, last month. Your cycle came while you happened to be staying over with them. He, Jimin and Hobi went to get you some things, upon Namjoon's request. He knew what to grab because he is a grown ass man but you texted him that you wanted specially that you wanted just a little bit of chocolate. You were adamant as always that there was a such thing as too much chocolate. He was going to just grab a candy bar but Hobi was for some reason hell bent that you needed strawberries. You did like strawberries but still? Jimin said that chocolate to dip them in would be perfect. You were pleased.

"Take me to a movie"

You would be perfectly happy if you went to work and on your days off went to see a movie, then came home and had dinner and just talked the night away on the porch or sat there silently. You knew what movies you wanted to see and the trailers gave you something to look forward to.

She's: "I can't find a thing to wear"

This. You will complain about not having anything to wear while trying on a million outfits. He and Jin don't hesitate to groan and complain, but really, he wished the door was open and he could see the little fashion show

Now and then she's moody

Moody wasn't really it, what he narrowed it down to be was that you were like him. You were nice, sweet, most times but now and again life becomes too much and you bottle things up so it explodes like when you shake a bottle of soda and open it

She's a Saturn with a sunroof

That was true, you weren't fancy. He smiles to himself, thinking about you trying to drive a family vehicle like that and he laughs as he sings. He imagines you screaming at Jin and Jungkook in the back and threatening them that they can't have fries if they don't be quiet and pictures himself sitting front passengers seat next to you and just watching you. This hasn't happened, but he can imagine it.

With her brown her a blowing

He loves watching your long brown hair blow in the breeze. If it's a gentle breeze it looks like in the movies and music videos; like princess Pocahontas. However, when it's strong wind it's one of the funniest things in the world to him. It's slapping your face, going in your mouth, getting hella tangled which would hurt later but it pissing you off was funny. He would always be there to help you brush it and wipe your tears later

She's a soft place to land and a good feeling knowing

He may not realize it but all the girls watching are cooing at the warm face he has as his eyes close. He wished you were here and he could lay his head on your lap now, feel you stroking his hair and drift to sleep there but it was a good feeling knowing you were watching this live he had long forgotten about

She's a warm conversation

That I wouldn't miss for nothing

She's a fighter when she's mad, and a lover when she's loving

When you got mad, it ranged from cute to damn with hot somewhere in the middle, damn being scary. Youre so small but just damn. As far as loving, you wouldn't let yourself do that romantically but he sees how you are with him and the guys.

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

I talk about her

I go on and on, and on

'Cause she's everything to me

She's a Saturday out on the town and a church girl on Sunday

Cross around her neck

Seven, no, eight months ago. Back in the summer, blinding light came into the room waking him up. He shielded his eyes and sits up. "Wake up Suga," he heard your voice, filled with something, a emotion he couldn't place. "Wha-," he was hungover, "what? W-Why are you awake? We slept for," he looked at the clock, "two hours? When did we get back?" You shrug. It was then he realized you were wearing a pale-ish clam pink silk dress with spaghetti straps on your shoulders, no bra, paired with wedge high heel sandals. He let his eyes scan you apply your lipgloss, the one that's the same kind JK uses, the uh, Rosy lips Vaseline. You leaned over the vanity mirror of the hotel room to see what you were doing and he remembers taking in the sight. Contrary to the jeans you wore the night before with the black t-shirt. "What's going on?" "I need to start going back to church"

"mmk, have fun," he laid back down, just feeling hungover as fuck. How are you not? He looks over his shoulder at you downing two Excedrins dry before coming over and sitting on the side of the bed. You put a hand on his bare shoulder, "Please," he couldn't look at you, in this, look in those eyes and say no. "Mmk"

And a curse word cause it's Monday

Fuck was your favorite word, there was no doubt. You love how versatile it was. It could be a verb, an adjective, a noun, you even somehow managed to make it a proper noun. He heard you say it shamelessly every way possible, except one

She's a bubble bath and candles

Candles gave you migraines, the scents were overwhelming, but you kept unscented ones on hand. If you've had a day anything like his today you'd light some for aesthetic purposes and sink yourself into a nice hot bath and most likely forget your bubbles in another room only to call him or one of the guys to get it for you and giggle happily upon being able to use it. After ofcourse smelling it and humming contently

Baby come and kiss me

You had only said this to them all in a playful platonic way, to kiss thier head or cheek. There was one time when you were all drinking around a fire at the lake house when you did say it and kiss Jin on the lips. It was a peck, you were all drunk, but he can't help the frown appearing on his face

She's a one glass of wine and she's feeling kinda tipsy

"No! Stob it Y/N!" The smile returns remembering this night. You decided to have a glass of wine and unwind. Your logic was that the bottle itself was made of glass to justify your actions

She's the giver I wish I could be

Stealer of the covers

Every time you sleep over, the guys agree on one thing. No matter who you sleep with, you are a blanket hog. You don't do it on purpose. It's just that you start sleeping in fetal position and without realizing it go into a deep sleep and somehow maneuver into some sort of rogue pelican formation. Not to mention you're always cold

His wallet falls out of his pocket onto the floor as he's getting into it, he comes back to reality and stops playing for a second as he reaches down for it and stops. He stops and smiles at the flap that's open with a picture in it. A selfie you took of you and him randomly one day because you caught him smiling and wanted evidence. You wanted proof and since you never had a open mouthed smile like in this one he wanted it to so he had it made into a photo card. He remembers and gets back to singing, noticing the comments demanding it.

She's a picture in my wallet

Of my unborn children's mother

He doesn't even realize that he stops this time for quite a long moment at the memory that comes with this line. Or that he is crying much less.

It was one day when you saw a pregnant girl and everyone was swooning over her and her son who was with her. Her son wanted to play with the guys to which they all happily went along. You walked away and he followed noticing something was up.

"Y/N...."

"Oh hey," you smiled up at him, weakest one possible.

"Something wrong?" He sat at the picnic table across from you.

"It's silly..."

"Tell me anyway?"

"I've known I've wanted to be a mom since I was 16. One day I was riding home on the bus and I just decided, someday that's what I wanted. I never wanted a huge family, I just wanted one or two. Not then, obviously, I just knew someday. I moved here after a long term relationship ended, y'know that....I wanted one with him, I cried, I can't even remember how many times I cried and practically begged, but there was always some reason we couldn't he'd come up with.....so," you shrugged, "it's silly, it doesn't matter anyway. Never going to happen.....girls like me don't get that," You got up and left him there and walked back to the car

He now realizes his face is wet and reaches up to wipe the tears that went down his face

She's the hand that I'm holding

When I'm on my knees and praying

The memory of the morning of the hangover returns again. He could tell you were nervous, eyes were on you. He knew it because you were so beautiful but you probably didn't. When the church cleared and it was just the two of you you dropped to your knees but stood back up just as quickly.

"Hey, Y/N, you can pray if you want..."

You shook your head, "I've messed up a lot, I'm scared...."

Nothing scared you. He took your hand and got on his knees too. "I'll do it too"

The two of you prayed in silence, holding hands. He finished before you did and just stared at your interlocked hands, rubbing his thumb over your ring finger

She's the answer to my prayer

She's the song that I'm playing

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

I talk about her

I go on and on, and on

'Cause she's everything to me

She's that voice I 'd love to hear

Someday when I'm ninety

Every day that passes

I only love her more

Yeah, she's the one

That I'd lay down my own life for

And she's everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

Yeah, she's everything to me

Everything I ever wanted

And everything I need

She's everything to me

Sitting the guitar down he smiles at the camera, says goodnight and blows a kiss. With a little heart fingers he says goodnight and signs off and gets ready for bed

[sope-and-shine]

Do You Have The Receipt For That?

-> Pairing: Jin x Gender Neutral!Reader -> SFW // Domestic!AU  // Fluff // Comedy -> Word Count: 1.9k -> Summary: “Get married,” they said. “It’ll be fun,” they said. You thought the honeymoon stage was supposed to last a few months. Yours didn’t even last 48 hours. -> Warning(s): Chaotic Jin, Jin gets drunk, Adam Sandler grade humor and innuendos, a healthy dose of blackmail

a/n: Jin deserves all the love in the world  

*

*

*

When Jin asked you to marry him, you honestly thought he was joking at first. He’d said it so casually over a glass of wine that when he actually dropped to his knee in the restaurant and pulled out the ring you were left completely speechless. He’d teased you about him being so handsome that he rendered you speechless, but you knew he was just trying to soothe his own worries over you possibly saying no. But he didn’t have anything to worry about.

All he had to do was get the ring on your finger.

Getting married to the love of your life was the biggest dream come true for you. Walking down the aisle dressed to the 9’s, your fiancé in a tux and looking as handsome as ever, your closest friends and families gathered along both sides to celebrate and enjoy your happiness. There was nothing more that you could have asked for, and you wouldn’t have changed anything about the day at all!

Over the course of your engagement, he did his very best to help you with every decision. He tried to be involved as much as he could to ensure that this wedding was something you both would be able to look back on and remember just how lucky you both are. Every venue search, every cake testing, every question over the smallest flower, he was by your side giving his opinion and reassuring you that whatever decision you made would be good.

Waking up in your honeymoon suite next to the love of your life felt like waking up on your birthday, knowing the day was going to be good. Seeing his recently dyed locks sprawled across his pillow with his cheek lightly smushed against his hand has your heart a flutter. The way his skin glows under the light peeking through the hotel window making you want to look at his forever. He’s always joked about being worldwide handsome, but why stop at just this world when he looks so ethereal?

You reach out - unable to stop yourself - and thread your fingers through his bleached tresses. For the amount of times that he changed his hair color, it was still so silky and smooth. If he’d let you, you’d run your hands through it all day and refuse to ever let him leave. Even as he stirs underneath your touch, you continue to play with the hair on his head.

“Didn’t you get enough of me at the reception?” He teases, a slight hoarseness to his morning voice.

You chuckle and sigh, “I don’t think I could ever get enough of you.”

“Is that because of my looks or my talents?” He asks, winking playfully. You can’t help but roll your eyes at his suggestion. 

You lean in and place a kiss on his forehead, “Your cooking is one of my favorite things about you.” 

You ruffle his hair and he lets out an annoyed groan, “Now I’ll have to fix that.”

“You had to fix it anyway. It didn’t survive last night.” You remind him, slightly proud of your accomplishment.

A hand reaches out to lay across your bare stomach and pull you closer to him, “I didn’t think you’d survive last night…” He says, his lips next to your ear.

You laugh as you squirm in his grasp, “Stop it! I’ve had enough to last me a week!”

“I thought you said you couldn’t get enough of me!” His other arm slides under your back to cage you into his chest. His fingers dance across your sides until he’s finally in a good position to attack you with well-deserved tickles for your treason, “Have you lied to me? How dare you! I’m your husband!”

“Ah! I’m sorry!” You cry out in a fit of laughter, moving every which way to try and get away from his relentless attack. He doesn’t let up, tickling every part of you that your position allows him too. 

He manages to work his way on top, effectively straddling you as he continues his relentless torture, “How could you lie to your husband like this?! We just got married! Oh, who is this person I’ve married?”

“I didn’t mean it! I didn’t mean it!” You laugh, hands flailing as they try to grab at his own. Tear cling to your eyes, “Please, Jin! No more! I can’t! I’m gonna pee!”

“Oh, wow, isn’t that sexy?” He teases. He ends his attack and replaces it with soothing caresses, running his hands up and down your sides as you calm down from the excitement. He watches you from above with a soft, genuine smile as he wonders just how lucky he is himself to have you.

You take notice of his content smile and give him one of your own, “What are you looking at?” 

“My amazing best friend.” He leans down and places a soft kiss against your lips, a much different pace from the activity before. You both enjoy the intimacy of just being together, loving the simplicity that comes with just a simple press of your lips together.

When he pulls away, he sighs, “We have a long day today. We should get ready soon.”

“We should.” You nod in agreement. You can’t help the playful smile that reaches your face, “But we should probably try to save some water by showering together. You know, for the environment.”

Jin can’t stop the blush that rises to his cheeks at your suggestion and laughs, “Oh, you’re cheeky!”

---

Your shower took longer than the two of you had planned for. The two of you had gotten carried away throwing suds back and forth and wasted the complimentary soap in one go. If Jin hadn’t tried to steal it out of your hands to try and squeeze it over your head, then he probably wouldn’t have slipped and taken you down with him. You could barely hear him whine over how heavy you were and how bad his back hurt for how young he is over the sound of the shower and your own laughter. 

Needless to say, he got his revenge by tickling you again.

Though, with him hurting himself in the morning, the both of you had to change up your plans for the day. What was supposed to be a day out on the town and sightseeing turned into a relaxing spa visit for you both to recover from the morning. 

The spa itself was very lovely, with an amazing atmosphere. Very calm and serene, and it felt so refreshing just to walk through the front door. With Jin, you explored all of the spa options they had to offer, walking through various rooms and relaxing hand in hand. Occasionally, Jin would lean over and whisper a joke or something completely random into your ear.

“I have indigestion.” or “What do you call a cow with no legs? Ground beef.”

He followed both up with his contagious laughter, always doing his best to muffle the sound but failing miserably. You had to drag him out of one room before he disturbed the other patrons, and you thought for sure an employee would hunt you down and force you to leave. But that looming concern didn’t stop you from enjoying the time you got to spend with your husband. You both spent all day enjoying the spa, and it wasn’t until dinner time came around that you began to realize that it was a bad idea.

As lovely as the spa was, there was on downside to what they offered.

Alcohol.

Seokjin isn’t a lightweight, but when he’s relaxing he has the tendency to drink just a bit too much. Not in a sense that he became completely reckless or abrasive, but in a chaotic drunk sort of way. He was himself, but more eccentric.

When you returned to the hotel fully relaxed and ready to crash on your bed to cuddle and watch movies, Jin seemed to be a bit more out of it than his usual self. You initially thought this had to do with the alcohol, and you were already planning on getting him some more water and maybe a painkiller or two. But what you had thought was a crash from the alcohol turns out to be your drunk, chaotic husband contemplating and overthinking.

“You love me, right?” He asks, sitting on your hotel room bed while you get him a bottle of water.

You chuckle, “Of course I love you silly!” You walk over from the mini-fridge - water bottle in hand - and sit down next to him on the soft sheets. You cup his cheek with one hand and smile, “I wouldn’t marry you if I didn’t love you, Jin.”

The blonde takes a moment to fully comprehend your reassurance before he nods, “That’s right.”

You try to hand him the water bottle, but he stands before you get the chance. You watch him walk over to the bedside table and pull something out of the drawer, hiding it in the palm of hand. He then walks over to his laptop bag on the table by the window and pulls out a manila folder.

The manila folder with your marriage license in it.

You watch him pull the document out and set the folder back down before he walks past you to the bathroom. Concerned, you follow him, worried about why he would possibly need to bring your marriage license to the bathroom. You’re sent for a loop when you see what he’s doing.

In the sink is your marriage license, and in his hand is a lighter. He holds the light to the edge of the paper and waits for it to set before he closes the lighter and turns to you with the biggest shit eating grin, “Ha! Good luck trying to return me without the receipt!”

You say nothing. You only stand in the doorway, mouth agape looking between your drunk husband and the singular piece of paper you overpaid for to tie yourself to his dumb ass. You honestly want to believe that you can’t believe he just did that, but a part of you really isn’t shocked at all.

He takes your silence as a victory and goes to leave the bathroom, but not without leaving you with a kiss to the cheek and a few words of wisdom: “Close your mouth before you let a fly in.”

When you get over your shock enough to try and salvage what’s left of your burnt marriage license - there isn’t anything to save - you return to the main room. On your bed, Jin is already lying on the bed and passed out with a half empty water bottle on his bedside table. He looks so peaceful lying in bed that you don’t have it in you to wake him up.

So instead, you pull out your phone and record what’s left of the incident. You recount what happened during the day, what happened when you returned home, and you end it by showing yourself tucking in the “man of your dreams” and kissing his head.

“I can’t wait to show this on our 10 year wedding anniversary.” You chuckle, smoothing back the hair that falls over his forehead. You turn to the camera in your hand and smile, “You’re lucky I love you, Kim Seokjin.

[ladyreapermc]

Fic: Punishment (Keanu Reeves x F!Reader)

Summary: Teasers get punished. That’s the rule. And you teased him all through his show.

Pairing: Keanu x F!Reader

Author’s notes: I don’t know what was in the air or in my water today, but damn this was a horny Sunday! Anyway, this little piece came together because miss @fanficsrusz suggested I should write more from the bassist!Keanu drabble from this morning. @toomanystoriessolittletime agreed and so here we are, wrapping up our horny Sunday.

Wordcount: 1437

Warnings: smut (degradation kink; overstimulation; unprotected sex)

You knew you were in trouble. ­­ How could you not when you spent the night teasing him? Using that skirt. Dancing like that… You weren’t expecting anything else but being completely wrecked tonight. You ached for it, really, but when you crossed the threshold of the hotel room, expecting to be pushed against the first flat surface, nothing happened.

Keanu closed the door after himself, setting his bass case carefully by the door, before he headed to the minifridge, grabbing a bottle of water and chugging it in one long swallow.

“I’m exhausted,” he breathed out, setting the empty bottle aside and wiping his forehead. “I’m gonna shower and sleep.”

You stood there confused, watching him disappear inside the bathroom, before shaking your head and starting to strip. Maybe you were losing your touch. Maybe he hadn’t been as bothered as you thought at first. Maybe…

You yelped when Keanu caught you by the waist, chuckling against your ear as your legs kicked wildly at nothing, your heart threatening burst from your chest.

“FUCK, KE! That’s not funny!” you shout, still struggling against his hold, but he was so much taller than you and with all the muscles he put on for Speed, he was even stronger than usual. “Put me down.”

“No,” he said, rubbing his stubble against your neck, making you shudder and giggle and squirm. “I don’t think I will.”

His voice was rougher than usual, lower and your entire body responded to it. Your skin heated up, your breathing picked up speed. This was what you were looking for with all your teasing. This side of him that he kept under tightly reigned control, but when you managed to make him let it out, you knew you would be feeling for a week.

You stopped struggling, going limp on his arms, reaching behind yourself to touch him, but you felt Keanu pulling back and away.

“You don’t get to touch me,” he growled. “Not until I want you to.”

“Yes, Ke,” you whimpered, feeling wetness spreading through your panties as he settled you down.

“Bed,” Keanu ordered. “On your back, knees bent and spread, feet on the mattress, hands around your ankles.”

You obeyed quickly, trying to crane your neck to look at him as he moved around the room, but the angle was awkward and you let your head fall back again, anticipation and the way you were completely exposed making you tense.

His touch was soft but still made you jump, which once again earned a chuckle from Keanu as his large, calloused hands explored your bare belly, making you shiver, and goosebumps raise on your skin.

His lips pressed against your hipbone, his teeth grazing softly, and you whimpered already desperate for him to move lower. How could he do that? How did he unravel you so easily and quickly?

“Ke, please,” you begged, canting your hips up in offering and he just chuckled again, pushing it back down, but at least his hand was now skimming over your cunt, though it was just a teasing touch that did nothing to alleviate the need burning inside you.

“You’re this soaked, and I barely touched you,” he said with a smug smirk. “You’re nothing but a needy slut, huh?”

You felt blood rushing to your cheeks, in embarrassment, but also in arousal. You hated how your body seemed to love whenever Keanu talked to you like that. It burned in need, your cunt pulsing around nothing and he knew it too.

He yanked at your panties roughly. You heard the telltale sound of fabric ripping and cursed under your breath. Yet another perfectly good underwear ruined.

You didn’t really have the time to mourn the loss of your lingerie, because all of the sudden a humming sound filled the room a second before vibrations coursed through you, making your clit throb and tearing a moan from your lips.

Keanu laughed as he rubbed the small vibrator through your wet folds, making you squirm and writhe, the surge of pleasure almost unbearable. Quicker than you thought it was possible, you were gasping through your first orgasm, your body shaking, your nails digging into the flesh of your ankles.

“That’s one,” he whispered, kissing your belly as you calmed down, gasping for air.

He only allowed you a couple of seconds, before the vibrator returned to your clit, just a soft pressure, but enough to make the coil of tension in the pit of your stomach tighten again. You rolled your hips against it, trying to get a little more of it, but Keanu just pressed a hand on your hip, making you stay still.

“You take what I give you and nothing more,” he warned but pushed the vibrator a little more firmly against your clit. You cried out and shook, feeling the wave of pleasure building once again until it crashed through you, making you arch up and your toes curl. “That’s two.”

Keanu only allowed you a few moments of reprieve before the vibrator returned and this time you tried to move away, chest still heaving, cunt throbbing and pulsing, but he was unrelenting and soon enough you were writhing once again, breathy cries and little sobs falling from your lips as you reached your peak once again.

Blood rushed through your ears so loud you barely noticed when he clicked off the vibrator, making the constant hum of it cease. It was enough for you to let out a sigh of relief that turned into a moan when his lips found your cunt.

It was such sweet torture the way he was teasing you, kissing and sucking, lapping at your juices and you were torn between moving closer and pulling away because your clit was overstimulated and so sensitive you almost couldn’t take it.

“Just one more baby,” he coaxed, his voice soothing, his hands caressing your legs. “I told you what happened to teases. You didn’t listen.”

“I’m sorry, Ke,” you whimpered, tears welling on the corner of your eyes as your body quivered at the overwhelming sensations. “I won’t do it again.”

“Yes, you will,” he said with a smirk, this time the kiss he pressed on your clit was softer and he crawled on top of you, nipping at your jaw and then your bottom lip. “Because I love when you tease me,” he said, and you felt the tip of his cock brushing against your slit. You breathed a sigh of relief. “And you love when I punish you.”

You bet people all over the hotel floor heard the cry you let out when Keanu finally pushed inside you, but you couldn’t care less, because you’ve been feeling completely and pitifully empty for the last hour and now he was in you, filling and stretching you so perfectly and it was pure bliss. You could almost come just from that.

His lips sealed over yours as he took your legs and wrapped around his waist, before taking your hands and pressing against the mattress, one at each side of your head as he began to thrust hard and fast, pulling almost all the way out before slamming back in.

His wild grunts mixed with your whimpers and cries. At every thrust, that small edge of pain from the overstimulation made the increasing pleasure even sweeter and once again your body shook and arched with a new orgasm, your cunt quivering around his cock and milking his own release.

You could barely breathe, your legs were completely weak and wobbly like they were made of Jell-O. If you had to get up right now, you’d fall to the ground. Your brain was a complete hazy fog and you could barely process as Keanu pulled out of you, letting your legs fall back to the bed and kissing you gently.

His soothing words didn’t register, nor his soft touches as he cleaned you up and tucked you under the covers. You were too blissed out to care what was happening, felt like it was made of putty in his hands as he rearranged your limbs over his until you were pressed against his side, your favorite position to sleep in.

“Honey? You’re ok, right? I didn’t go too far?”

“Hmm?” you blinked sleepily at the brown eyes watching you. “It was perfect, Ke. I didn’t think people could actually get their brains fucked out. I was wrong.”

He chuckled quietly, hand covering his mouth before he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead and let you drift off to sleep with his heartbeat as a lullaby.

xxx

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[mitchsmarners]

i took too many hits off this memory (i need to come down)

pairing: eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier [reddie]  rating: teen audiences and up chapter warnings: mentions of past drug abuse, mentions of past child abuse in terms of s*nia kaspbrak, mentions of minor character death/near death word count: 3,515 chapter count: 4 of ? summary: Eddie Kaspbrak doesn’t remember much from his childhood. He doesn’t really know he doesn’t remember. He also doesn’t know why he’s so drawn this terrible comedian on tv, but when Eddie runs into him in a bar, and they spend the night together, Eddie’s life is changed forever. It’s finally back on track- and he doesn’t know anything about it

read on ao3. moodboard by @isaacslaheys​​

perma taglist: @jwilliambyers​, @stebbins​, @isaacslaheys​, @s-s-georgie​, @transrich​@eddiefuckinkaspbrak​, @edstozler​, @emgays​, @anellope​, @thorn-harvester-ven​, @wheezyeds​, @vipertooth​, @tozierking​​, @billdenbrough​​, @starrystoziers​​, @trashmouthtozierr​​, @willelbyers​​  @loserslibrary​​ (let me know if you want added!)

June 5 2009

Richie wasn’t sure how to tell his manager that he didn’t want to do stand up anymore. That maybe he’d never really wanted to do stand up. He liked making people laugh, and he vaguely remembered wanting to be a vanquilist when he was a kid but he’d never been able to stop his mouth from moving with the words. It was fitting that now, Richie’s job was almost just exclusively moving his mouth. Richie had gotten terrifyingly good at walking on stage, flicking off his brain and transforming into Trashmouth™. That had long since stopped bothering him, but as his career took off, Richie found himself having to be Trashmouth™ more and more and Richie less and less. He was suddenly surrounded by people who only really saw him as the foul mouthed, sex crazed misogynist his ghost writers had him portrayed as on stage. They’d promised him that kind of shit sold, and they’d been right, but suddenly all his friends actually thought and spoke like Trashmouth™ and it made him queasy. He could only handle sitting through so many homophobic and sexist conversations before he felt Richie would melt right out of him and Trashmouth™ would be all that was left of him. He couldn’t let that happen… he just didn’t know how to tell anybody. 

He was doing a string of shows in Georgia, because Richie’s shows always sold better the further south he went. Richie hated the South, and not just because of his whole bisexuality thing, but because the weather sucked, the accents annoyed him and Richie Tozier did not belong anywhere where the potential of rodeo or circus existed. (Richie Tozier didn’t know anything about the Southern United States). 

Richie had been born in Maine, one of the coldest states in this god forsaken country, and in 1992 his family had moved up north of the border. Richie had come back to the United States after university, because everybody told him that he would be better off getting a job in show business in America rather than Canada. He hadn’t been totally sure that was true, but he’d gotten successful pretty quickly after moving back down here so he wasn’t about to argue it. 

“I don’t know what you’re upset about.” Audra Phillips, one of Richie’s few true friends, was saying to him while packing up Richie’s hotel room. He was so ready to leave the Devil behind, and get started on his break. He was fully debating on going to Canada to see his parents, it had been too long and every phone conversation with his mom felt like a guilty knife to the chest, but Richie had things he needed to take care of.

“You’ve been doing this for years, Rich.” Audra carried on, scowling at one Richie’s ratty overshirts before tossing it directly into the hotel bedside garbage. “You’re good at it, you’re making great money, you get to stay in the nicest hotels and see the country. What else could you possibly want? You’re doing things most people dream of.”

Richie huffed out an aggravated breath. “You’re telling me you never think of leaving all this behind? Not even when paparazzi follow you around the grocery store or TMZ leaks half truths that destroy your relationships.” 

Audra crossed her arms over her chest. “First of all, no, I don’t. I’m living my dreams, Richie, that’s more than most people can say! And when was the last time Paparazzi followed you anywhere? Never? What’s really bugging you out, Richie?”

“I don’t know,” Richie said, only half-lying. “It’s like… sure, I’m doing great financially, and it’s nice that people want to see my shows but it’s not like they actually like me. The person they’re coming to see is basically the anti Richie. If I come out, I will lose all my fans because they’re a bunch of homophobic asstwats because that’s the audience I have to cater to.”

“Are you thinking of coming out?” Audra asked.

“Not like… tomorrow, but someday, yeah.” Richie said quietly. “I’m not going to live my life in the closet. It’s not like it’s the 1980s anymore. Honestly, if it wasn’t for my shows and how coming out would basically make all my content unuseable, I probably would have come out already. Or at least not been so hard on sneaking around.”

Audra dropped down on the hotel bed and smiled sadly up at him. “You shouldn’t have to live a lie forever, Richie, but you’ve got to be reasonable about this, too. You can’t just up and quit, you know that. You’re on a contract, Steve will not hesitate to sue the fuck out of you if you try to skimp out-” 

“My contract ends with this tour,” Richie said. “That’s why I’ve been thinking about it so much, they’re trying to get me to sign  on for another three years and I just… I’m 30, Auds. I don’t want to spend another three years of my life touring around to states to hate, telling jokes I don’t relate to and letting people think I can for things that I don’t. I hate that people can use my acts to justify their bullshit, you know? Three more years of that would literally make me want to kill myself.”

Audra froze for a moment, then shook her head. “If you’re having thoughts again then we can-”

“No.” Richie snapped. “It’s not like that, and before you ask- no, I’m not using anymore. I’m not going down any sort of self destructive path. I’m just… tired. I’m 30, and I’m in the closet and I’m tired.” 

Audra nodded slowly. “Okay, then here’s what you’ve got to do, then. Go to talk to somebody at your bank today before you head out, just see what you’re looking at financially. Figure out how long you can bank on your ass without working while you figure out what you want to do. Then go home and see your momma, because she probably misses you, and tell Steve that you will give them an answer to resigning when you get back.”

“And what if I don’t want to come back?” Richie asked quietly.

“Then you don’t have to.” Audra said simply. “But Steve the bullshit excuse anyway. It’ll get you across the border way easier then if you tell him that you tell him to go fuck himself and that his biggest profit client is leaving him.”

There was only one branch of Richie’s bank in Atlanta, and Richie took a moment to appreciate Steve’s power as he was ushered through the bank and immediately back to meet with one of their accountants. The man on the other side of the desk wore a simple grey suit with the jacket draped over the back of his chair. His white button up shirt was rolled up to his elbows, and his hair was in tight, proper brown curls around his head. He was, in short, somebody who usually made Richie’s mouth water just at the sight but for some reason, he wasn’t attracted to the man despite how his energy put Richie immediately at ease.

STANLEY URIS, according to the sign on his desk, gave Richie a polite smile. “So, Mr. Tozier, what can we help you with today?”

Richie let out a long, slow sigh. “I’m gonna be honest with you. I’m here because I wanna quit my job, but my best friend told me that I should make sure that isn’t the world’s worst idea ever.”

Stanley Uris chuckled, and clicked on a few things on his computer. “I’m not usually prone to telling people to quit their jobs, but based on your accounts here, you’d be able to make due for at least a year if not more on your savings only. Permitting you don’t go around making any outrageous and sentrous purchases. Basic costs of living wouldn’t be a concern for a while.”

Richie had already known that, mostly. He’d only agreed to come here to soothe Audra’s nerves. Money hadn’t been a concern of Richie’s in many years, but it was nice to know he’d be okay for a while while he figured out what it was he wanted from life. What he could do. 

Stanley turned in his chair and met Richie’s gaze with a wiry look. “I’m not prone to getting involved with my consults personal lives, but I have to ask Mr Tozier- why are you thinking of quitting your job? I won’t pretend your particular brand of comedy is up my alley, but you seem to have made a name for yourself in the business. Is it wise of you to walk away now?”

Richie blinked. “I don’t know anything about what’s wise or what isn’t, I never have. But I do know that this name I’ve made for myself, like you said, isn’t the name I want to carry forever. It isn’t me, and I guess I want the world to see me for who I am now.” 

“Well.” Stanley’s lips twitched up in a hint of smile. “As you inquired, you’d certainly be able to make due for a quite a while figuring out what it is you want your name to be, Mr. Tozier. And a piece of advice, if I may?” Richie nodded. “There’s nothing wrong with trying to find yourself, Richie. I went through most of my life mocked for who I was, or who I hung around, or what my religious beliefs were. And it stung for a long time, but I’m glad that I stuck it out. I’m a loser and I always fucking will be. It’s often not worth it to put on a mask and pretend all the time. Be who you want to be, be proud.” 

Richie definitely was not tearing up in the middle of a bank office. This strange accountant had somehow struck something deep within Richie that not even his trained therapist or NA sponsors had ever been able to reach. Almost like he knew… but that wasn’t possible.

“Yeah.” Richie said through a voice crack. “Thanks, Stan the Man. I’ll do that.”

Richie made a quick exit from the bank, truly worried for a moment that he might begin to cry in the middle of this poor man’s office. He made a rushed phone call to Steve, just Audra had advised, telling him that he needed some time to clear his head and he was going back to Canada for the short while between legs of his stand up tour. That he’d have an answer for Steve regarding his contract when he got back. Steve hadn’t been thrilled with the whole thing, but Richie supposed he was thankful that it wasn’t a straight up no. Previous attempts at negotiation hadn’t looked good, and Richie knew that. 

As Richie was getting onto the plane, his phone buzzed. He pulled it out, ready to turn the device off as he boarded and he frowned at the notification. Steve had said he was going to give Richie the space he’d requested and he usually waited a couple days before he broke those promises.

Hey Richie. I know you said you needed time but SNL is interested in signing you as a full time cast member when your tour is over. Call me when you land. -Steve. 

“Aren’t you worried about the cold?” Eddie Kaspbrak asked, legs draped over Richie’s in the front steps of the Tozier house. It was nearly completely packed up, the family only waiting for the school year to finish out before they took off. They wouldn’t even be staying for the summer. Eddie wished he’d known that last summer was truly going to be their last summer. 

“Why would I be worried about the cold?” Richie replied with a snort. “We live in Maine, Eddie boy! I’m used to the cold by now.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose and smacked Richie in the shoulder. “In the winter, sure! But Canada- That’s winter all year ‘round, isn’t it? Won’t you miss swimming and shorts? How are people supposed to know that you have terrible fashion sense if you have to dress in parkas all year long?”

Richie laughed, and it made Eddie’s heart flutter in his chest. “Canada has four seasons just like every other country, Eds! My momma says that their summers can even get pretty hot. It’s not a land of make belief, or anything. Why are you hating on it so bad?”

“I’m not hating on anything.” But Eddie thought maybe he did hate Canada, a little bit. He hated that Richie was moving to Canada, a whole other country. It was hard enough when Beverly moved to Portland and Ben moved to another state. Another country might as well be an entire other world. Mike believed that the further people got away from Derry, the more they forgot and Eddie was having a particularly hard time thinking about Richie forgetting him while possibly living in a snowbank.

“Stop.” Richie suddenly groaned. He reached out and shook Eddie’s shoulders. “Stop thinking so damn hard, you’re making my head hurt. I don’t wanna think about it, and I don’t want you thinking about it! We can’t stop it, so can we please just spend the next month having fun and being us and NOT thinking about it?”

Eddie sighed and in a moment of weakness, dropped his head down to rest on Richie’s shoulders. He knew they were out in the open, that anybody could walk past and just… see them like this. It wasn’t safe, but for the moment, Eddie didn’t care. Derry was already hell, and nothing could make it worse than Richie leaving. 

“I’m not trying to dwell on it.” Eddie said quietly, curling up into Richie’s side fully. “I’m not, it’s just…”

“Nah, yeah, I get it.” Richie wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulder and jostled him slightly. “But there’s no sense stressing about the things we can’t control, you know? Life in the moment, Eddie my love!” 

Eddie exhaled hard. “Richie… I need to tell you something.” 

August 10 2009

Eddie Kaspbrak hated airports. There was something about the energy in the place that just made Eddie feel wild and horrible. He always drove himself, always. No matter how many times people told him that flying was safer than driving, that it was stupid to drive across country when flying could get him somewhere within a day. Eddie Kaspbrak hadn’t flown since 1999 on a forced family vacation with his mother and aunts. Until today. 

Eddie would much rather be making the drive to Derry rather than getting on a plane at JFK but his aunt Darlene had insisted that Eddie fly out to Bangor, that six hours was much too long. His mother might not last that long, and Eddie would so regret it if he wasn’t there with her when she passed. Eddie wasn’t sure if that was true, but he’d bought the last minute plane ticket anyway. He wasn’t too sure what a difference five hours would make, but it was never worth it arguing with his mother or his aunts. 

From what Aunt Darlene had told him, Sonia Kaspbrak was as good as gone already. A stroke, late last night. The doctors weren’t hopeful for any recovery, or even for the woman to regain consciousness. It left a sick feeling in Eddie’s stomach, thinking of his mother in a hospital bed, as good as gone and being kept alive by machines. It made him feel even sicker to know that it was exactly how she’d want to go, holding onto life and sucking up resources and doctor’s time right up until the very end. Eddie had kept his mother at a distance as much as possible since leaving home for college, and in the last two years he hadn’t spoken to her at all. He’d felt no desire to. She’d made his life hard, so much harder than it had ever needed to be. He was certain that if it hadn’t been for her, he would have come out long before he did. Myra would never have happened. To this day, at 30 years old, Eddie was still trying to figure out what things are true and what are lies from her influence. He wasn’t sure he ever wasn’t going to fuck up from her, and maybe she didn’t deserve him by her bedside at all. Kay had told him that she didn’t, that Eddie shouldn’t put himself through it. He didn’t owe her a goddamn thing, and Eddie knew she was right.

Eddie Kaspbrak hated airports, he hated flying, he hated goddamn Maine and he fucking hated his mother. His plane was going to start to board any minute and Eddie was still sitting in the waiting area with his emergency overnight bag tightly in his grip. He was rapidly running out of time to make good on this plane ticket that he’d bought on his messley cab driver salary. 

“Well, I’ll be damned.” A familiar voice carried over to Eddie through the waiting room. “Is that Eddie fucking Kaspbrak?”

Eddie turned in his seat, and grinned when he noticed none other than Richie Tozier walking towards him. His clothes were rumbled and he had a five o’clock shadow around his jaw that made Eddie’s stomach tighten. It was almost weird how little Richie Tozier crossed his mind, despite how intense his reaction was every time he saw him or even thought about him for too long. 

“Richie Tozier,” Eddie said slowly, face breaking into a grin. He stood and walked over to Richie, with his overnight slung over his shoulder. “Back in the world of the living I see. I think your fans were starting to think you died somewhere.”

“Awe, Eds. You been keeping tabs on lil ol’ me?” Richie chuckled, reaching out to pinch at Eddie’s cheeks. “No need to worry, Eddie boy. I was merely taking some me time in the great white North. My parents live in Canada, I went to visit them and clear my head.” 

Eddie’s chest twinged. “Well, welcome back to civilization then, I guess.”

“You’ve always been Canadianphobic huh, Eds?” Richie laughed but Eddie frowned deeply.

“What do you mean always?” 

Eddie and Richie looked at each other for a long moment, before Richie shook his head. “I don’t know, you just strike me as the type, I guess. What are you doing here? You don’t really strike me as the flying type.”

Eddie shuddered. “God, I’m not.” He said honestly. “But my mom is dying or some shit, and my aunt is pitching some drama fit about how a six hour car drive is too long so I have to take the plane.” 

Richie froze for a moment, mouth half open and eyes wide. Eddie braced himself for the evitable awkward apologies and sympathies that always came with the whole dead parent card. 

“That sucks man.” Richie said finally, with a shrug. “You going back to Derry all by yourself?”

Eddie had given up on trying to figure out how Richie just seemed to know things about him. It wasn’t even that weird anymore. “Yeah.” He answered with a sigh. “If I get my shit together and actually catch my plane. I’m cutting it pretty close.”

“Well…” Richie gave Eddie a soft smile. “If you didn’t want to take the trip alone, I’m not doing anything interesting. I’m supposed to be settling into my new apartment but that’s boring and I think it would be way more to go back to Derry with you and wreak havoc on your aunts.” 

“You’re moving to New York?” Eddie asked with wide eyes. He tried not to think about how a big reason he and Richie had never really been together was the constant distance and Richie’s travelling. He wasn’t sure Richie had even had a home before. 

“Yeah.” Richie suddenly seemed embarrassed. “I was trying to get out of the whole stand up game, and my manager got me a steady gig on Saturday Night Live.” 

“SNL?” Eddie gasped. “Richie! That’s huge! Congratulations!”

Richie’s cheeks reddened. “Thanks, man. But I’m serious about the offer. It’s no skin off my back at all. We can go see if they have tickets left, how many people could possibly be going to fucking Maine?”

Eddie should say no. It couldn’t bring Richie home with him, to his crazy aunts and his dead mother. To Derry at all. Eddie barely remembered Derry, outside of spending almost all his time locked up in his bedroom. But he remembered enough to know that it was a horrible place, almost like it was permanently stuck in the 1950s and there was something… evil about that place. Just thinking of it made Eddie’s palms sweat and knees shake. But on the other hand…

“It wouldn’t be good for our friendship for me to reject you twice at this stupid airport.” Eddie said, forcing his voice to be light. “Let’s go.” 

[rainyday-imagines]

It’s gonna be okay

A/N: I’ve had this idea for like weeks now but, I didn’t have the motivation to write it. So.... here it is! The thing no one asked for! I would also say Richie, Eddie and the Reader were really close as kids.

Pairing: Adult!Eddie Kaspbrak x Reader they’ve been married for a while, kinda Adult!Richie Tozier x Reader, maybe slight Eddie x Richie x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death, angst fest,mentions of blood, some fluff.

NOT MY GIF - Credit to the amazing owner! 

     The quarry was quiet, except for the gentle splashing of water surrounding the Losers, what was left of them anyway. Slowly washing away all memories of the night before. Everyone was off by themselves, trying to piece together everything that had happened but still close enough, closer than they had been before all this. 

     “You know what? Eddie would’ve hated this you guys.” Ben muttered, breaking the silence surrounding them. Your back to the rest of the group, this brought tears to your eyes as you scrubbed at your arms. 

     “What cleaning our selves in dirt water?” Bill slightly chuckled back. 

     “Yeah” 

     “He would be telling us strepticafl-somthin” Bev joined in. 

     “Yeah...but he would’ve made us laugh though.” Mike said, a smile on his face, remembering the joy Eddie had once brought into our lives. The scrubbing becoming more intense as you tried to hold it together. 

     “Oh yeah” 

     “He’d be lookin out for us.” Ben said, more somber. “The way he always was. Ain’t that right Richie?” He called out to Richie who was just staring at your back. 

     It was becoming harder and harder to keep it together. All the memories of the night before flooding back. The water. The cave. The darkness. The nightmares. The fighting. The stabbing. The blood. Eddie. Eddie. Eddie. 

      The blood won’t come off. You’ll never see him again. Alone. Without Eddie, what is there to do now? 

      The scrubbing was intense now, your arms were turning red from the irritation. The dirt and the blood wouldn’t come off. You can feel the anxiety rising, only Eddie was able to calm you down. Who’s gonna calm you down now? How can you survive beyond this? 

      “Y/N?” Richie said moving towards you across the murky water. The group turned towards you, sensing your discomfort, your movements becoming more rash in the water. 

      “Y/N, breathe. I need you to breathe with me.” Richie said going to stand in front of you. Trying to take your hand away from your arm. 

     “You’re hurting yourself, stop.” He said, frowning at your state. 

     “I-I can’t get the blood off. Rich, I can’t. He-he’s gone. We left him in the dark. He’s by himself in that fucking house.” You said, hyperventilating, barely getting the words out. 

     “Come here.” Richie said more forcefully pulling you towards him. Putting his arms around you. “Breathe with me. I know.” 

      You continued to cry into his shirt. Richie hearing you mumble about Eddie. The rest of the Losers came over towards the two of you, surrounding you in their warmth. All of them understanding your sadness on some level. 

      Your breathing seemed to finally settle down after what seemed like hours. 

     “Thank you.” You said quietly to the group, as they began to separate. 

     “Come on, lets go back to the hotel.” 

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

     The hotel was quiet as they all pilled in. They had even managed to drag Mike along with them for at least a drink. The sound of squishing shoes and shuffling feet led them to the bar. 

     Richie following along at the back of the line, watching your back as you moved. 

     “Hey, Y/N. You dropped something.” He said getting down on a knee to pick it up from the foyer of the hotel.

     He held up a ring, in an almost comical way, under different circumstances. You turned and once your eyes saw him, down on one knee you widened your eyes in surprise. 

     “Rich-” 

     “No. I swear I’m not kidding around, you actually dropped this.” He said standing up, holding out a ring. 

     “Oh.” You finished sadly, actually seeing what he was holding. “It’s Eddies’. He had it in his hand when he-” You stopped not able to finish. You reached out to take the ring, looking at in your hand. Remembering pulling you hand away, we you were forced to leave him. 

     “We picked out our rings together; we had them inscribed with the day we met and then the day we got married.” You smiled down at the rings, imaging the day. Eddie was so nervous but, he looked so beautiful up there on the stage, it’s impossible to forget. 

     “Yeah speaking of, why didn’t I get invited to the wedding?” Richie accused, pretending to be hurt. 

     “Of course you got invited dumbass. How could we not invite the third to our trio?” You answered back. Richie actually looked slightly surprised, assuming he actually didn’t get invited. 

     “We got a call- no wait I think it was an email from your publicist. I think you were in Denver that weekend or something.” You said with a smile, looking up at Richie. 

     “Well, I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Maybe I’ll make it to your next one.” He immediately flinched at the harshness of the joke. Sometimes he hated not having a filter. 

     To his surprise, you actually let out a little laugh. 

     “Yeah Rich. Maybe you will.” You said, giving him another smile before turning to join the group in the bar. 

     Richie smiled to himself, watching you go. He went to join the others at the bar and was happily surprised to see them all smiling and talking. 

     You looked around the table, seeing everyone finally at peace. The looming dread no longer hanging on their shoulders. This was something you could get used too, something to grow from. 

[five-wow]

10.07 THOUGHTS. MANY SPOILERS AHEAD

i probably genuinely might not have recognized steve at first, with his beard and cap, if i hadn’t already seen pictures of alex like that. ALSO. steve opens one (1) door and immediately gets attacked by at least three men. oh, steve

steve!!! brought backup!!! to this secretive meeting with some government official who wants to give him shady info!!! i’m so proud of him, and it’s also a wonderful way to NOT EXCLUDE DANNY from important later-season steve episodes for once.

danny’s FACE after they hear it’s about steve’s mother made me actually bark a laugh out loud. oh boY

“but you’d rather bloody these hands instead.” OH GOD okay okay okay i love this, from the bit where steve STILL can’t believe his mother might have done a Very Bad Thing but looks kind of scared and hurt anyway, like he knows it IS actually possible but just can’t admit to it, all the way to the bit where it’s a little more complicated than just “random guy shows up with shady intel and everyone more or less trusts him and steve jumps at the chance to do something dangerous”. GOOD STUFF

“she gave up a family, for you agency, you know that?” OH STEVE. i have a feeling i’m going to be saying that a lot, fjdkfd.

wait wait wait. so lou says lucia, their big bad, has always preferred the company of women, “biblically”, and then steve says that doris was smart and used that... to get close... to lucia?? that sounds like they’re saying doris slept her way into this which, fjdkfdj, that means my doris/amanda ship just got 50% more plausible.

it also means five-0 has yet another evil lesbian (in lucia, not doris) and i’m not to hyped about that, but. we’ll see.

random, but: i LOVE lou’s shirt. it’s this lightly pink thing with sporadic sailboats on it and it’s glorious.

tani says that to her this looks like a suicide operation and she’s not even DONE TALKING when danny says “i said the same thing” and he’s not even angry or trying to appeal to steve anymore, he’s just kind of... sad and resigned, which is WORSE.

danny WALKS OFF. STEVE STARES AFTER HIM. OH NO

THIS IS GOOD. VERY BAD BUT VERY GOOD

and before steve can even get STARTED on his crazy infiltration plan, his car gets shot at and blown up. oh, this is all going so well. it’s that wonderful mcgarrett luck of his at its finest.

“what do you wanna do?” junior asks DANNY, very specifically, after he tracked steve down. fdjkfd just. THANK YOU, alex, for actually making danny a huge part of this, unlike in some major episodes which won’t be named (7.07! 7.07!!! and, oh god, i’d almost managed to repress the whole “let’s not call danny because he’d just worry” thing from 9.10, but that one too, holy shit)

fjdkfdjkfdjk literally, the entire team is just standing around (except quinn - where’s quinn this episode? i miss her) but junior is ONLY arguing with danny over whether he gets to go in and rescue steve or not, like danny is the sole person who gets a say in this. he ASKS FOR DANNY’S BLESSING. steve and danny are so literally the team dads it’s not even funny anymore.

steve confronts doris and some of the first words she says are “but please, trust me” and it’s NOT funny, it’s very emphatically not funny at all, but it’s kind of funny. holy shit, doris.

“my life was compromised the day you walked out of it.” OHHHHH. just. just so many good lines about steve’s hurt by doris’ hand.

doris CRACKS STEVE OVER THE HEAD. WELL GREAT. now we can add physical violence to her list of sins against steve.

steve, to junior: “what did i tell you?” junior: “it’s been so long i couldn’t remember.” fjdkfjdk love him.

i have literally no idea who these other two guys are that junior brought with him (should we know them?), but i’m guessing they’re other navy seals? some of those we’ve never seen before but who are always immediately willing to help out with crazy shit when our main characters need them, because it’s convenient and it adds someone who can be killed off in a single episode for extra tension without needing to spend too much time on it?

dfjkd danny asking junior “you got the animal with you?” is just so perfect. he’s obviously EXTREMELY WORRIED but he can’t just show that too obviously so he insults steve. brilliant move.

also, the “it’s good to hear your voice, buddy” bit almost made me cry.

THAT DREAM. oh my god, THAT DREAM.

doris points a gun at steve, because OF COURSE SHE DOES.

“oh, that’s this ends? huh? you gonna kill me, now?” like i said before: OH STEVE.

oh my gOD they ACTUALLY made doris the bad guy. I DID NOT. EXPECT THIS. don’t get me wrong, i absolutely totally LOVE IT but i DID NOT THINK they’d go there, holy shit.

doris is rambling crazily about how she lost her husband and her kids WHILE POINTING A GUN at one of those kids, which perfectly encapsulates why she’s so wrong, wow.

“stop thinking about yourself for a second and think about my loss.” oh my GOD, doris, ARE YOU SERIOUS

“a family that never understood me or the sacrifices i made for them” fjdkfdjkfdjkf I DIE this is so hard to watch but SO GOOD. this is everything i could possibly ever have wanted them to do with doris, ESPECIALLY when steve tells her straight to her face that she never actually made those sacrifices for them because HE’S RIGHT, obviously, but genuinely, i didn’t think something like this would ever happen outside the realm of fanfic. wow.

listen. i don’t give two shits about doris, okay, and it might actually be BETTER that she’s dead now, but oh. oh. steve’s response? steve, completely unable to move, staring at his dead mom and just sinking back to the floor like a bag of potatoes when junior tries to drag him up? OH. that has me very near tears anyway

the shots from steve’s pov with the vision that keeps blurring out? oh god.

once back in washington some cia guys zip open the body bags to take pictures and fingerprints and that makes sense but do they really have to do that RIGHT IN FRONT OF STEVE

“she stayed on target, until the very end. she did her job.” are you serious. no. she did not do her job, nor did she stay on target - she nearly killed her son, remember that part?

someone knocked at the door of steve’s sad gray washington hotel room and i was like PLEASE LET IT BE DANNY and he opened the door and IT WAS DANNY. why is this episode so good. why

okay so. the money doris was after was supposed to be for steve and mary and joanie. oh my god, i genuinely don’t know if that makes anything better or worse at this point, but it’s going to be even more of a gut punch for steve, for sure

“define okay for me” I AM SO DEAD

steve ACTUALLY MENTIONS the fact that five-0 started with the dead of his father and that joe died only last year and nOW HIS MOTHER. this!!! this is an episode actually written by someone who understands this character and it rips my heart apart in the very best of ways

“the bed, that’s big enough for two people, right?” OKAY. first you tear my heart to pieces, then you run it through a shredder just to be sure, and then you make me laugh AND give the entire fandom NEARLY CANON “there is only one bed” trope???

THIS WAS SO GOOD. SO PAINFUL BUT SO GOOD. i genuinely did not think i would like an episode that promised the return of doris, but they did just about the one thing with her that DID make it something i really, really wanted to watch and just, oh god, they kept danny in it as a person who actually plays a part in steve’s life, and steve was so good, every single bit of it, and there was so much direly needed dialogue about steve and doris’ relationship and just, yes. god, yes. this was brilliant. this was probably my favorite episode in a good long while and i don’t even LIKE angst.

[the-canary]

Sugar, Sugar - B.B (2/2)

Summary: Babe, you got a killer smile! And though you might have lost it along the the way, a certain photographer is trying to finally set that straight. (Modern!Reader/Bucky Barnes) 

Prompt:  “Me? I’m scared of everything! I’m scared of what I saw. I’m scared of what I did, of who I am. And most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life…. the way I feel when I’m with you!”

A/N: This is for @interestedbystanderwrites writing challenge. made some edits to the quote, which is in bold. 

Feedback is always appreciated.

There are just some things that you have to admit to yourself in the long run.

Deep down, you know that you love modeling and it’s probably for all the reasons Bucky had talked about as well -- the clothing, the stories, the potential for it to be something more had always attracted your attention. However, the problem was clearly you.

There was always something wrong with you -- too thin, too tall, too short. People always listed off a hundred reasons why they didn’t want you and whatever money you did manage to get… well, you never saw a penny off it. 

You were a flavor of the month until you weren’t needed anymore and as much as your struggled and hated yourself for it  -- you still loved fashion and all that came it. And as a result, you did the best you could to keep it in your life in little ways. 

A dress here, magazine there. Somehow, managing to befriend Sam and getting to see all his exclusives firsts, but even now the story was still the same. 

“At least, she isn’t dried up and bitter!” 

You’re old news that none is ever going to what to look into. People like you don’t have a comeback story in the second half of their life, and you had just wished you had stayed in your old book shop like you were supposed to. 

Instead, you’re trying your hardest to hold back the tears as you take what little you brought and try to head to the States. 

It would be easier to forget all about this and him, eventually anyways. 

———–

Natasha doesn’t take the news of you leaving in the best way, because she thought everything was perfect -- the clothing, the location, the story, her! 

There was only one rock that made the clock of her new editorial stop ticking and was starting right at her. Disheveled hair and sad blue eyes are a familiar story her, but not the smell of alcohol on him nor the whimpering tone of how he says her name in the aftermath of it all. 

So, she screams in her best commanding voice which reverberates within the tiny hotel. Her secretaries that searching anywhere that they remotely think is related to her. Sam is already at the end of the other line, caught between talking to her and trying to call you. All that is missing is one final piece, as glaring green eyes looked at the man before her. 

“Fix yourself and comb through all the places she has been near here,” Natasha all gut glowers at the man as he shakes his head in affirmation. 

Years ago, she might have laughed at the thought of Bucky in love, but at the sight of him and all that she might lose--

 Barnes,” she states like hell hath no fury but her own, “If we can’t find her before tonight, I’ll make sure you never work anywhere else ever again.” 

Blue eyes widen, driving him out of his pity party as he leaves the room. They both know she isn’t just saying this for the magazine, but for a certain heart as well. 

Thus, Natasha starts calling in some heavy favors to find her lost model. 

———– 

SAMMY: Hey, where are you? 

SAMMY: ARE YOU REALLY GONNA THROW THIS AWAY? When you’re so close...

 SAMMY: Hey...I know you’re stronger than this. 

All messages have been left on read. 

———–

It’s been five hours since that first meeting. Since he had showered and shaved, Bucky had been looking through three for her. He had gone back to the all the shooting sights and areas were they had just hung out together during their time in London, but no such luck. 

The only thing stopping him from thinking that she hadn’t already left the country is that Nat or even Sam would have called him with the news. So, he had to keep looking. He had to try to fix this. 

Near the fourth hour and when he finally decides that there is only one lead he hasn’t exhausted as much as he hates to admit. 

It had been the cause of your whole fight to begin with, but he had nowhere else to go. Bucky walks to the corner cafe and he glances through the window to make sure that a certain blond is there, which he is. 

Bucky can only let out an annoyed sigh as he pushes the door open.

———– 

“Have you tried checking out the London Library?” the blond asks during his break, as Bucky frowns, “She’s been meaning to go there.” 

He doesn’t want to than the skinny no-good barista, but Bucky silently does when he sees that you are sitting on the stairs of said library not that far away from the hotel. You are sitting with a little rolling suitcase at your side and a book in front of your face. To be completely honest it’s the loveliest he’s seen you because you’re still here. 

You might be angry or feeling completely empty, but you were the sweetest thing he knew in a long time. In his complete loss of you, he ends up murmuring your name rather loudly, which causes you to look up with a startled look on your face. You get and stand on the stairs, ready to move as he gets closer to you. 

“Wait,” he lets out breathlessly as you glare at him, “Please, just give me a minute.” 

You don’t say anything, but look at him with those eyes that he saw in that jilted lover shot. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “I’m sorry. I shouldn't have said those things. They weren’t--”

“No,” you stop him. Blue eyes look at you with a question, “You might have been right about some things. I took this job for a reason--”

“What do you mean?”

“I wanted to prove to myself that I could still do this,” you remark with your voice colder than he had ever heard it, “I know I can still do this. It’s just that things got in the way.”

Bucky lets out a little chuckle: “Me? I got in the way?”

You don’t say anything as Bucky gets close and into your personal space before adding in: “Have you ever thought that you’re just afraid of the rest of the world?” 

“Me?” your voice cracks lightly, “I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw. I’m scared of what I’ve done, of who I am. And most of all, I’m scared of walking out of this and never feeling how I do here for the rest of my whole life--” 

About the way I feel when I’m with you!

However, the last part of everything you have been meaning to say doesn’t leave your lips, as you simply pick up your suitcase before turning back towards the general location of the hotel without another word. 

Bucky just stands here dumbstruck at everything you had admitted before following you, wishing that you had just hit him with a book instead. 

———– 

“I’m sorry,” is what Natasha hears come out her mouth when she comes back -- shoulders drawn back and a weary smile on her face. Bucky is hot on her heels, but the air that used to be around --of shy, budding lovers-- is gone, “It won’t happen again.” 

The aura around her is to familiar and Nat can’t help but frown, because this isn’t how she wanted her star to be like -- cold and distant is too familiar to the rest of the fashion world. However, she can understand the use for it as well, especially when it came to someone like James. 

“It’s all right,” she remarks with a nod, “Just don’t let it happen again.” 

Her starlet nods shyly for a moment, as hope rises in Nat’s chest for just a moment. 

She’s still in there and as Nat and Bucky share a look, they both realize that they have to bring her back. Not just for the rest of the shoot, but because they both love her that way as well. 

———–

Two days and nights of re-shoots to make sure everything is ready for the rescheduled opening night. While, it wasn’t the best thing to do in the long run, it was best to be late rather than sorry. It’s the two of you and the rest of the little crew running around London in utter silence, as the two of you barely talk anymore. 

“Make her look sad,” Bucky states while playing with the camera, as the make-up artist walks over to you, “Put some tears in her eyes.” 

“There’s already tears in her eyes,”the man yells back as Bucky looks up. You don’t say anything.

“You’re certainly the actress, aren’t you?” Bucky lets out without any feeling.

Your eyes met his as you simply shrug before wiping the tears away. You turn back to the makeup artist without another word. 

———– 

Utter silence is what Natasha is met with when she enters the little dress up room in the back of the gallery where they will finally be showcasing all their work. However, while she should be happy and proud of everything that they had accomplished in such a short amount of time, but instead one half of her dream team was unresponsive and the other was missing.  

“You know,” Nat starts off as she looked at her through the mirror, “When Sam suggested you, I was sure he was trying to make a joke.” 

She frowns for a moment, though it quickly fell back to its blank countenance. Nat kept talking: “But, here you and James proved me wrong.” 

She stays quiet, as Natasha keeps talking as their eyes meet for a second: “I’m not saying that he was right in whatever he said to you that night. But, in the world of fashion… in the world you want to belong, he’s always going to be your greatest advocate.” 

“Why would you say that?” 

“Maybe you should ask him instead,” Nat says mysteriously before leaving her alone in the room to think.

———– 

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was doing anymore. He was halfway between staying and going back to New York. His work was done and he wasn’t really needed in the reception, though it was better if he was.

“It would also be better if you apologized,” someone answered out loud as Bucky turned to see a familiar smiling face, which only caused him to frown.

 “I didn’t know I was asking for advice,” Bucky remarks as Sam laughs.

“You are when you’re talking to yourself in the middle of the hallway, Jack Nicholson,” Sam answers back, as he walks over to the clearly distressed man. 

“What do you want, Sam?” 

“I came to stop you from making the biggest mistake in your life,” Sam states as a matter of fact as Bucky simply groans, “Because whether you know it or not, you’ve made that gal the happiest she’s been in a very long and lonely time.” 

Blue eyes turn to meet serious brown ones, as Bucky can’t help but wonder what had happened to her after the limelight stopped shining on her and even though he was still being stupid and angry -- Bucky wanted to know what he could do to change all that. 

———–

You see him in the back where the dimmer lights are located once the event starts and while you should be focused on looking straight ahead, all you’re really doing is looking at him. It was stupid and childish to fight over such things, but you also have to talk about them as well. 

However, the two of you are stuck making rounds and connections until later in the night. It isn’t until close to midnight and thanks to a certain pair that you are able to see each other in a small side patio. Though everything that you wanted to say is immediately thrown out the window, as you stand there awkwardly for a good couple of minutes. Until--

“I’m sorry!”

Is a thing that you both say at the exact same time, but you --in your never ending anxiety and nervousness-- manage to move forward with your stuttering speech. 

“I know, I have no right to be jealous or anything like that,” you start off as Bucky watches you shine underneath the little fairy lights, “And yes, all that I have done might seem petty to prove a point--”

“Prove what?” Bucky can’t help but ask, both curious and seething if what Sam had told him was true. 

“That I can do anything I want,” you answer as if admitting defeat, “Despite my funny face.” 

“Oh sugar, you’re a star,” Bucky remarks with a smile as he caresses your cheek, “I won’t let anyone tell you less. And I’m sorry too. I was stuck between wanting to show the rest of the world and tryin’ to keep you to myself. It was childish, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.” 

“I can...understand that,” you answers back shyly that it makes Bucky want to laugh at how quickly your attitude can change. Instead, he leans in until there is no space between the two of you.  

“Maybe, we should take some time off after all this,” he lets out hopefully -- that you’ll take this step with him, “Get to know each other outside of the whole glitz and glamour thing.” 

“I would like that,” is all you say before pressing yourself closer to him and kissing him softly on the lips. 

Bucky leans in and returns the gesture pliantly. 

And in the shining stars, both up above and down below, the two of you have found something else worth more than all the stories that you could come up with both behind and in front of the camera. 

And the fashion world -- well, they could wait for now. 

[alleiradayne]

Unconventional A J2 x Reader RPF Series

After a rousing evening of Friday Night Karaoke at the Supernatural convention, you’re tired and about to go to bed. But then a distinctly familiar laugh echoes through the hallway outside your hotel room door, and sleep is the last thing on your mind.

Part VIII - Emotional

Summary: What do you do after a weekend full of Jared and Jensen? Warnings/Tags: Angst. Like. A lot of angst. And some fluff... Characters/Pairings: Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki/Female Reader Word Count: 5,032 A/N: For the love of everything good in this world, assume everyone involved is single or polyamorous. No. Wife. Hate. Allowed. This series as a whole will fulfill my Polyamory square for @spnkinkbingo but not until closer to the end. Beta’d by @atc74 because she’s awesome and managed to read this hella long buncha nonsense.

In the interstitial space between asleep and awake, your subconsciousness floated, adrift on an endless sea of unadulterated bliss. Dreams clamored for your attention, visions of salacious fantasies that teased at your senses. You lingered there between those worlds, between fact and fiction, desperate, anxious, and even a little scared. You struggled to shake the idea that, were you to awaken, that easy peace you had found would cease to exist, and a grim reality would replace it.

Hope. Some stray sense of hope had lulled you to sleep the night before. So, you latched on to it, to the sore muscles and warm skin and familiar sleepy breaths that marked a steady cadence in your ears. Most of all, you trusted that you were not alone, and that, when you did decide to shrug off your sleep, you would find yourself in the arms of two people that felt the same way as you.

Whatever happened next, you left up to fate, and opened your eyes.

The three of you had hardly moved in the night. Jensen yet lay on his back, his hand on your arm draped over his chest, and the other on your thigh crossed over his hip. Jared had curled in so close to your back, you could barely tell where he ended and you began. One leg laid over yours and an arm wrapped around your waist to hold you tight against his entire torso. Afraid to wake them, you did your best to remain still and waited for them to come to on their own.

You had expected to learn something unpleasant about at least one, if not both men overnight. Snoring, maybe drooling. Or needing to defend yourself from elbows and knees. But, no. Instead, they were perfect and slept sounder than the dead. Jensen’s eyes remained still behind his lids, undreaming. So close, you counted the freckles that dusted his nose and cheeks until you nearly fell back asleep. When you turned over your shoulder, you found the most incredible image of Jared you’d ever seen. The sheet had fallen off him completely—he must have kicked it off in the night—and his hair covered his entire face but for the tip of his nose.

As though he felt your eyes on him, Jared breathed in deep and exhaled with a contented hum through his nose. His arm squeezed you tighter for a hug as he buried his face in the crook of your neck and kissed you, his hair teasing your skin. A subtle sigh of your own roused Jensen, who rolled onto his side and entwined his legs with yours. When he found no space for his arm around your back, he reached further to envelop Jared in his embrace, his hand resting on his hip.

“Morning,” he whispered against your lips, then placed several short, sweet kisses there. “Sleep okay?”

“Slept great,” you said with a laugh, hoping to hide the quaver in your voice. “Although I imagine I was completely exhausted after last night.”

Jared sighed as he continued to nuzzle your neck. “It was… something else, that’s for sure.”

An unsettling hint of emotion distorted his voice, hidden like an undercurrent that threatened to sweep you away. Did he worry like you? Had he thought of all the implications, the impossibility of the situation?

“Y/N?” Jensen mumbled. “You okay?”

“I’m… fine,” you said with a sigh and an unconvincing smile.

He propped his head up on his hand and cupped your cheek. “What’s up, honey?”

You searched his eyes for the answer but found nothing except more questions. Over your shoulder you spotted Jared’s gaze averted, staring into the middle distance. “I don’t… what do we do now? Do I just… go home?”

Jared pulled his hair back from his face as he sighed but said nothing. A swell of pink colored his nose and brow as his eyes reddened, still staring off at nothing. When you turned back to Jensen, you found him staring at Jared, a knot of worry etched into his brow. “I’m afraid we all need to get back to reality.”

Your worst fear rekindled, fueled by Jensen’s truth. You knew, had known all along, that what you wanted was impossible. Where would you live? What would you do for work? And how would society in general even accept such a lifestyle? Could you keep it entirely private? Ceaseless questions spiraled out of control until Jensen interrupted your thoughts.

“Hey, no tears okay, I…” he paused with a hitch in his breath. “I can’t handle that shit, I’ll start crying, too. And Mr. Waterworks back there is probably already doing it, so I’ll be a mess in a few minutes anyway.”

With a deep breath, you did your best to rein in your emotions. “This sucks,” you muttered. “I want… I know what I want is impossible.”

“It is,” Jared agreed as he returned his lips to your skin. “But we feel the same way, if that helps.”

You turned to your back and the two of them curled in closer. “Our plane is leaving soon,” Jensen started. “We shouldn't waste any more time. Need to get some rest tonight since we're on call sheets tomorrow.”

“At least you got Monday off,” you said. “But… I almost regret it. You should have left last night. Before all this…”

Jensen rubbed your stomach as he spoke. “The damage had already been done. Last night was just a confirmation of how we all felt after Friday and Saturday.”

Great. You had ruined three lives in two nights. “I'm so sorry, guys. I wish I hadn't made things so messy. It was just supposed to be a fun weekend. I thought I could go home today and go back to my life but…”

“Trust me, Y/N, that's the last thing we want,” Jared sighed. “We’re as crazy about you as you are about us. But we do have to go.”

You promised yourself you wouldn't cry, but the tears welled so suddenly, you had no chance of holding them back. “Fuck, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay,” Jensen soothed. “We’ll never forget you. This con was one for the record books. It'll always have a special place in my heart.”

“Says the guy who hates chick flicks,” you replied.

“Oh, he's full of shit, he loves them,” Jared teased.

You raised a questioning brow at him as Jensen shrugged and said, “Guilty.”

His laughter filled your heart near to busting, but you fell quiet once more. Thank God for their mutual silence. For letting you lay there with them as long as you wanted. Maybe you would remember them better that way. Maybe, when you looked at the pictures you took and your photo op with Jared and their autographs, you would remember that exact moment, laying in their arms, above all others.

“It’s time, Y/N,” Jensen started. “We have to go.”

A frustrated grunt followed Jared as he quite forcefully shoved himself from the bed. Cold, you shivered in the void that replaced him, and though you wanted to reach out to stop him, you remained beside Jensen. Jared gathered his clothes and headed for the bathroom without even a cursory glance at the bed.

“This is gonna be really rough on him,” Jensen started as he pushed to sit at the edge of the bed.

You followed him and asked, “Why? What’s wrong?”

Jensen snatched his boxers off the floor and slipped them on. “I think he’s gotten quite attached to you,” he explained. “And he might not be alone.”

You looked to the bathroom door as you considered Jensen’s words. “Are you sure?” you asked as you hopped from the bed and gathered the scattered pieces of your clothes. Your suitcase sat on the other side of the room, and there you sorted through your clothes for something comfortable to wear on the flight home.

“Yeah,” Jensen nodded as he righted the sleeves of his shirt. His socks followed and he retrieved his boots near the door. He brought them to you and set them near the bed as he spoke.  “I’m sorry, Y/N, we never meant for things to get like this.”

“I know,” you said. “It’s nobody’s fault,” you continued as you slipped into a pair of underwear and a fresh bra. “And then again, it is everyone’s fault.”

You pulled on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, then immediately slumped in Jensen’s arms again. Before either of you spoke, Jared burst from the bathroom, dressed and hair tamed. He paused a moment as he spotted you, then crossed the room for the door. Without another look, he wrenched the door aside and strode into the hallway. The door slammed shut after him, loud as a clap of thunder.

“Oh, I am so sorry, Y/N,” Jensen said as he kissed the top of your head. “He’s in a lot of pain.”

Numb dread chilled your toes and your tears stopped. “I understand,” you said. “You should go.”

Jensen parted from you with a pained scowl plastered to his face. “I hope to see you again.”

“Me too.”

He turned for the door and pulled it aside, but not without one last look over his shoulder. “Goodbye, Y/N.”

And just like that, the two of them vanished from your life. So suddenly alone, you slumped onto the foot of the bed and sat in stunned silence.

In the hallway, Jensen headed for the suite at the end of the hall and pounded on the door. “Dude, open up.”

The door swung wide without delay and Jared towered over him, face red and wet. “What?! I’m packing! We need to get going!”

When he tried to slam the door shut, Jensen blocked him and shoved his way into the room. With a disgusted scoff, Jared returned to his packing, slamming things into his suitcase.

“Look, man, I know this sucks,” Jensen started, “but what are we supposed to do? We can’t bring her with.”

“I know!” Jared bellowed. “Go pack so we can get the fuck out of here!”

He had not expected that. Hell, at the very least, he had expected Jared to fight back. But that? He couldn't argue with him.

Jensen turned on his heel and strode through the door. He stomped down the hallway, headed for the elevators, but froze as he reached your room. The image of your numb resolution returned to the fore of his mind, a fresh memory that mirrored Jared's anguish. And the longer he stood there, the worse he felt until the sting of his own furious tears welled in his eyes. Nothing would make things any easier than they were at that moment. So, he forced one foot in front of the other, fighting every desire in his body to say one last goodbye, and rounded the hallway for the elevators.

The call button opened an elevator door immediately and he rushed into it, eager to be on his way. But when the doors closed behind him and it lurched into motion, he wept.

The hour passed uneventful. The first fifteen minutes you hadn’t noticed. The next half-hour dragged. And another fifteen rounded out the hour. You had finished packing in the first five, then created other things to do for the remaining fifty-five. A few hands of Bridge on your phone consumed ten minutes. Social media consumed another fifteen. Work emails warranted at least twenty minutes before you remembered you sat in your hotel room and should head to the airport soon. And at ten minutes shy of the hour, you confirmed it took a mere twelve strides to cross your room.

You almost made it out the door before you spotted the watch on the bedside table. Silver with a bright blue face, it glinted in the lamplight as though it beckoned you. You returned to the bed, a heap of sheets piled atop it, and sat on its edge as you hefted the watch.

The frame of the face rotated under your thumb as you inspected the timepiece. It must have cost a small fortune. Given the side of the bed on which you had found it, you assumed it belonged to Jared. And after waiting over an hour for Jensen to return like had promised he would, you figured that, at the very least, you’d make some money pawning it.

The thought broke your heart. Tears welled and blurred your vision. It was the only thing you had left of him, the only thing to remind you of what had transpired that weekend. Sure, there were the autographs and photo ops. But his watch? That had to mean something, some sort of symbolism.

You shoved it into your suitcase and promptly forgot about it.

At the door to your hotel room, you wiped the tears from your eyes and steadied your breath. One last sweep of the room accomplished absolutely fuck-all besides tug at your heartstrings again. You could hardly look at the bed without wanting to scream. Best to just leave then, get to the airport a little early. Eat lunch, read, maybe even write. After that weekend, you had plenty of emotion to draw on for some particularly depressing scenes.

Through the door you pushed your suitcase and shifted your backpack on your shoulder. Without another look, you started down the hallway for the elevators. You couldn’t look back. If you did, you might never leave.

The door slammed with a thunderous crash as though a tomb had sealed shut on an expired life. Your mind blanked in the wake of that sound as you stared at the elevator. And then in a final fit of rage, you punched the call button with your solid fist, cracking the plastic and breaking open your knuckle.

“Shit.”

“Alright, we’ve got about an hour before we board, you wanna get a drink?”

Jared glared over the top of his book. “No.”

Jensen’s lips thinned to naught but a line as he pushed to his feet. “Fine, I’m getting a drink.”

“Don’t be late!” Jared insisted under his breath. “I want to get out of here.”

Jensen stopped beside him as he said, “You know, you could have at least said goodbye.”

When Jared rolled his eyes, Jensen scoffed and walked away for a nearby bar. Hopefully, he’d pick up a waitress and fuck her in the bathroom. Might help him get over Y/N. Then that way he’d stop bringing her up every five minutes.

Jared wanted nothing more than to forget all of it. As amazing as it had been, the pain in parting had been far too great for them both. Jensen rolled with it well enough. But Jared did not. Had he lingered any longer in her bed, he would have succumbed to his base desires and capitulated to everything Y/N wanted.

He couldn’t stand the thought of you thinking about him in that way, a blubbering mess and begging for you to uproot your life, to follow him across the country. Or God forbid he put his foot in his mouth and ask you to wait for the show to end, to wait for him to find some sort of normal life and return to you when he had the time. Fuck that. Fuck all of it. How could he ask you for any of that? What kind of asshole did that?

His phone chirped in his pocket with a short buzz. When Jared withdrew it and found a text from Jensen, he almost ignored it.

Almost.

Jackles: I can hear you thinking all the way over here.

Jared rolled his eyes as he slumped further into his seat.

Sasquatch: Then move further away.

Jensen’s response arrived a second later.

Jackles: Dude, I’d have to move to the moon to not hear your heart breaking right now.

Jared shoved his phone back in his pocket only to feel another text come through.

Jackles: We didn’t have to leave her like that.

Sasquatch: Will you just forget about it already? It was a one-night stand.

Jackles: Technically, it was two nights. THREE for her.

Sasquatch: I know! Why do you think I feel like such a giant piece of shit?!

He turned his phone to silent, shoved it into a pocket in his suitcase and returned to his book. At least they would be boarding soon, and after a nap, they’d be in Vancouver and back on set. He couldn’t stand to think about that weekend any longer, lest it rip his heart from his chest. Fuck, but he had been so stupid. He thought he could have some fun, share a woman with his lover, then move on. But Y/N had proved him so wrong, he damn near regretted everything that had happened since the moment you had found him in the hallway.

He stared at his book, reading the same passage over and over and retained none of it. After the fourth attempt, he threw it into his bag and stood in a huff. He should get a drink. Jensen was right, a drink or five would help. As he leaned down to retrieve his phone from his bag, he checked his watch.

Except he wasn't wearing his watch.

“Shit.”

The line for security had taken ten minutes. The walk to your gate, despite your very slow trudge, took two. The decision to get a drink at the bar took five. That left you with an hour before boarding.

Might as well get hammered.

At the end of the short terminal, your gate sat between two others and a bar. Empty, the bar seemed the perfect place to get smashed and forget the weekend had ever happened. Nothing better to get over a one-night stand than a wasted flight home.

If only it had been one night.

As you approached the bar, you spotted the bartender busied herself with cleaning and organizing, bottles situated and glasses gleaming. You wended your way through tables to the middle of the bar directly in front of her, sat down in a seat that had been angled askew, and found it warm. A subtle hint of a familiar scent teased at your nose, and you searched with a hurried glance in both directions, but as before, the bar remained empty.

Before your chair and angled against the rail sat a large iPhone in a black case, nondescript but for its worn-in use by a large right hand. When you settled, the bartender leaned over the bar and said, “What can I get you, honey?”

You looked up from the phone and handed it to her. “Double of Bowmore, neat. And this was sitting here.”

She took the phone from you and nodded. “Oh. Musta been that looker with that hat,” she started. “He had a big enough broken heart for both of us,” she said as she placed it by the register on the back counter. “He’ll be back, expensive phone like that.” She paused at the wall of liquor, grabbed the bottle of Bowmore off the middle shelf, then looked over her shoulder as she asked, “You said a double, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” you sighed.

She poured out your drink and handed it to you. “’Nother broken heart, huh? You shoulda met that other fella. He was sittin’ right there not five minutes ago. Peas in a pod you two woulda been.”

You sipped from your glass as she rambled, half-listening. She went on about him for the better part of fifteen-minutes, about how crazy his weekend had been and how eager he seemed to be to tell her about the woman he’d met. But you sipped your drink, remained silent, and tuned her out. Not like you cared about some random fucking guy’s weekend fling.

“What about you, darlin’? What’s got you half into a glass of the hard stuff?” she chirped.

You stared at her for a second before you took a deep breath and said, “I fucked two famous dudes three nights in a row, the third of which was a threesome, and now they’re flying back to Vancouver to film their TV show.” A sip of your drink punctuated your statement, and the clunk of the heavy glass on the bar closed the topic.

Big brown eyes started at you for a beat before the bartender burst into laughter. “Oh, sweetheart, you are quite the character,” she said as she poked buttons on the screen of her register.

Of course, she didn’t believe you. Who in their right fucking mind would believe such a ridiculous story? Hell, if someone else had told you a story even remotely like yours, you’d laugh in their face, too. But that was before the absolute insanity of that weekend.

“I broke up with my boyfriend and I’m flying back home,” you said, and you hated just how close that came to the fucking truth.

“Oh, honey. I’m sorry. You’ll find another, pretty gal like you,” she said as she returned to her cleaning.

More small talk crossed between you for several minutes before she returned to talking about her previous patron, surprised that he hadn’t yet returned for his very expensive phone. While you listened, you retained hardly anything she said, choosing instead to continue thinking about nothing. The bartender blathered on, her endless gushing about wide brimmed hats, freckled noses, green eyes, full lips, and big shoulders boring you to… to…

Son of a bitch.

“Give me that phone.”

The bartender stopped mid-sentence as though she had been punched in the gut. “Excuse me?”

“The phone. I know who it belongs to,” you stated.

“I can't do that, he might—oh, good timing!”

You caught a subtle whiff of his scent before you heard your name all but sung in his perfect baritone.

“Y/N.”

That sound should have sent a shiver up your spine, put a quake in your knees. Hell, it should have ruined your god damn underwear. A voice like that was most women's wet dream.

But for you, it was your worst nightmare, and your heart broke all over again.

His hand enveloped yours on the bar before you turned to him. If you looked at him, it would all be over. There would be no turning back, no going home. At least in the hotel, it had been quick, like a band-aid ripped from your skin. The sting of parting ways had been sharp, but short. Nothing but a dull ache left you sore. But that wound would open again if you looked.

“You got my phone back there, sweetheart?” he asked the bartender.

You kept your eyes glued to your drink as the bartender silently handed Jensen his phone. “Thanks.” He returned his attention to you as his fingers slipped into your palm as you gripped his hand tighter than a vice. “You can keep squeezing, honey, but it ain’t gonna break.”

“Dammit,” you choked with a laugh despite your impending tears.

“Come here,” he insisted as he coaxed you from your chair. Not that he had to do much convincing. You slipped from the stool and wrapped your arms around his waist as Jensen held your head to his chest. “God, am I glad you’re here. But I didn’t realize you weren’t from town.”

“Jared knows,” you started as Jensen parted from you. Eyes still averted, you continued. “I showed him my driver’s license, remember? That’s why he wanted to get out of here so bad.”

“Y/N, can you at least look at me?” he asked as he cupped your cheek. “Please?”

You shook your head with a firm frown. “I can’t. You said goodbye already, I can’t go through it again.”

“I’m sorry,” he said as he took both of your hands in his. “I never meant for things to go this way,” he continued. “Please, just look at me.”

Over the intercom, a boarding announcement began. Jensen groaned as he cursed, then leaned into your ear and whispered, “Honey, I'm begging you, please look at me.”

“If that's your flight, you should go,” you said. “It's for the best.”

His knees hit the floor before you said another word, and his green eyes—red and full of tears—bored into yours. “If you won't look up at me, then I'm gonna do this on my knees. I want you to be at the next con.”

The pit of your stomach dropped as though you rode a rollercoaster. “What the fuck are you doing, Jensen, get up,” you hissed as you tried to pull him to his feet.

“No. I need to say this to your face, not the top of your head, and you refuse to look at me,” he said, “so you've got me on my knees for probably the third time this weekend. And I’m begging, also probably for the third time this weekend.”

You gawked at him, his words brazen and unrepentantly lurid. “Stop that!” you demanded as you looked at people slowing to watch.  “Get up, you're making a scene.”

“Fuck those people,” he said as he tossed a cursory glance at onlookers. “If they wanna watch, let 'em. I perform better with an audience anyway,” he added with a coy smirk.

“Jensen!”

“What?” he laughed as he wiped his tears away. “C’mon, Y/N. Come to the next con. We’ll fly you out, you can kick it in the green room all you want. We mostly just sleep in there.” He paused with a thoughtful gleam in his eye. “Although, there was that one time Jared and I were alone—”

“Seriously?!”

“Yeah, it was pretty hot, he just bent me over the arm of the—”

You clamped a hand over his mouth before any more salacious details of green room sex spilled out. “Cut it out!”

“Say you'll go to the con,” he started when you removed your hand. “I want you to come with us to Vancouver right now,” he added. “But I know that's not—”

“I'll go.”

His mouth shut with a click of his teeth. “To the con?”

You leaned into his embrace as a nervous twitch of a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. All or nothing. That had been the truth of it since Friday night. And the further into the weekend you went, the harder it had been to ignore it. You wanted everything they had to offer and you were willing to make the biggest sacrifice for it. So you dove in headfirst despite that welling sensation in the pit of your stomach.

“Both. I can do Vancouver for a few days. And the con next month,” you said.

How could his eyes shine any greener? They were the stuff of fairytales. So full of hope, he asked. “Really? What about the cons after that? Can we fly you out every month?”

His arms wrapped around your hips to grasp your backside as yours encircled his shoulders. “Hell yes. I don’t know why you didn’t ask in my room.”

The floor left your feet in a rush as Jensen stood, legs wrapped around his hips and holding you so tight, you felt as though you might burst. With his lips against yours he spoke. “I don't either, honey. All I know now is that we should have.”

He barely gave you a moment to breathe before his lips landed on yours. Relief so sweet coursed through every fiber of your existence. Cleansed of your apathy, you gave yourself entirely to Jensen and never looked back.

Countless seconds passed before the intercom interrupted the moment again. Jensen parted from you with a curse and set you on your feet. “That’s our flight.”

“Jen?!”

Jared’s bark of yell sounded around the corner of the bar as he loped into sight. The second your eyes met, he stopped dead in his tracks, nearly stumbling to a halt. For a single beat of your heart he stared, wide hazel eyes flashing so bright with suddenly renewed hope.

He said not a single word. Three long strides crossed the space between you, his towering frame bearing over you as he picked you up in his massive embrace. His lips landed on yours for a firm, desperate kiss that lasted far too few seconds. When he parted from you, he spoke. “Fuck, I missed you.”

“We were apart for two hours,” you muttered into the crook of his neck. “Speaking of which, I have something of yours.”

As he set you on your feet, you dug into your pocket and withdrew his watch. When you handed it to him, he wrapped your fingers around it, his massive hand enveloping yours. “Keep it. That way you'll always remember our time together when we’re apart.”

Thank God for Jared's emotional perception. As the tears threatened to return, one hand dove into your hair at the nape of your neck and you melted into his embrace as the other circled your hip. He pressed closer, and damn all the extra eyes and gawking mouths that fell open as they stared. His lips found yours for another kiss so tender, so full of need, you worried the bathroom on the airplane might not be big enough for the both of you.

When he parted from you once more, his eyes fluttered open, wide and bright despite the dim bar light. Several long seconds ticked by until the intercom announced the final boarding for Vancouver. Jared glanced overhead, then returned his gaze to you. “I think I love you.”

“I think I knew that,” you started, “And I’m pretty sure I love you, too.”

“I’m going to throw up.”

Over your shoulder you glared at Jensen and said, “And I’m damn near certain I love you, too.”

Jensen's derisive gag started a fit of giggles in you. When you turned back to Jared, he said, “Now or never. What do you think?”

You smiled as you took Jared by the hand and headed for the gate.

“I think you've picked yourselves up a stowaway.”

Fin

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[fiftyshadesgrl]

Part two of my brantley gilbert series! I hope everyone enjoys it.

I wake up to find myself tangled up around Brantley. Hes still asleep and its dark outside. I hear a humming sound then a bump. I realize the bus is moving. I jump up, "oh my god!"

Brantley sits up in a panic, "what is it baby?"

I pull the sheet up around me suddenly feeling vulnerable. "The bus is moving. I cant go anywhere! I have to go home."

He wraps me in his arms to comfort me. "Its okay baby girl. Why dont you just stay for the next couple of shows then if you still wanna go home, Ill make sure you get there."

"I have to work. I cant just give everything up to be a groupie."

"Hey." He said making me look at him. "You will never be a groupie. You are way better than that and you know it. Just give us some time, give me some time to show you that this time will be different."

I sigh, "what about my work?"

"Call them and tell them you need some time off."

I snicker, "the real world doesnt work like that. We cant all be Brantley Gilbert."

He lays back down and smiles, "Hell Ill call em myself." I laughed at that and can actually see him doing that. I shake my head and turn my phone on and find its only 2 in the morning. I quickly text my boss and tell him that Im taking my vacation early and Id be back in two weeks. I turn my phone back off and lay back down cuddling up to brantley.

He wraps his arms around me and kisses me. I moan and crawl on top of him. "Damn baby girl, youre gonna wear me out." He says smiling. I smiled back down at him, I cant believe I have him all to myself but the memory of three years ago comes flooding back to me.

3 years ago.....

I was out with mama becky trying to find the right dress that made me feel beautiful. I wanted to blow brantleys mind in a couple months when we say I do. Mama becky turns to me as we pull into the driveway, "hows he been lately?" I sigh and shake my head. "He has his good days and bad days."

His mama had tears in her eyes, "these days its more bad than good." I nodded but pasted a smile on my face.

"Dont worry mama, things will get better. Hopefully he will sober up by the wedding." I said hopeful but doubt still clung heavily in my mind and heart.

I hugged her and jumped out of the truck. "Ill come back this way in a couple of days to talk about the flowers and everything." Mama becky said and I nodded and waved as she pulled out of mine and brantleys driveway.

The house was unusually quiet, brantley usually had music blaring or playing his guitar chugging beer out on the front porch. I unlocked the door and walked in. "Brantley, Im back." Not one word, I walked towards the bedroom where the door was cracked open. I peeked through the crack and saw brantley laying on his stomach in bed sleeping.

I smiled at the sight of him, no matter what we go through he always and will forever hold my heart. I decided I would jump on him and wake him up that way. As I pushed the door open I gasped at what I saw. Amber, his ex laying on my side of the bed with my fiancee'.

Clothes, both his and hers, thrown everywhere meaning they were naked under the thin sheet that lay on top of them. I stood there just staring, I couldnt believe he would do this to me. He promised he would never hurt me.

I got my wits about me and finally spoke. "What the hell brantley!" He flipped over but amber still lay there sleeping. I wanted nothing more than to drag her by the hair of her head out of my house and beat her ass.

He jumped up out of bed and pulled his boxers up. I wanted to throw something at him, slap him, do something but I stood froze to the spot. He stumbled over to me and grabbed my arm and walked outside of our bedroom shutting the door.

I stopped just a few steps from the bedroom door and pulled away from him. "What the hell? Im gone for one day and youve got that whore in our bed!"

He held up his finger to his lips, "shhh."

That pissed me off that much more. "You want me to be quiet!? So I dont disturb that homewreckers sleep! I dont give a fuck if she sleeps good or not. You and her both are very lucky I dont beat both of your asses!" I got right up in his face and dared him to tell me to be quiet again.

"Look," he said holding his hands up, "I got bored last night and you wasnt here again, so I went out to the bar. She was there and I was lonely. Youre never around anymore I need some love every now and then."

I slapped him across his face hard. His head snapped back but I didnt care. "Youre a asshole, I have been planning OUR wedding that you didnt want to help with. You wouldnt be alone if you would stop popping pills and drinking and come with me and help."

He looked back at me but there was no emotion on his face. Thats what worried me most. He wasnt feeling anything. "You know I would disappoint you at our wedding if I helped. Id get something wrong."

"Well you can forget about the wedding. It seems like you got all you need right in there." I pointed towards the bedroom door. I walked towards it and slung it open. Amber was standing beside the bed just pulling brantleys shirt over her body.

I pointed at her, "you say a god damn word and Ill fuckin stomp a mudhole in your ass. I advise you to get the fuck out before I change my mind and do it anyway." She grabbed her pants and pulled them on and headed out of the room.

I grabbed a duffle bag and started shoving my clothes in it. "What are you doing?" I heard brantley say behind me. I gave a humorless chuckle and kept stuffing clothes in it.

"What does it fuckin look like?" I threw over at my shoulder.

"Looks like your making the biggest mistake of your life." He said emotionless.

Before I knew what I was doing I picked up one of his heavy boots and threw it. The boot connected with the aide of his face. "Mistake!? You think Im making a mistake. No honey you made the biggest mistake of YOUR life the moment you picked that whore up and brought her to our house!"

I kept packing my clothes and when the duffle bag was full I zipped it up and threw it over my shoulder. "Ill send kolby or mama becky to get the rest of my stuff. Dont call me when you get sober." I walked out towards the front door but stopped before I walked outside.

My heart was breaking into a million pieces. The love of my life cheated on me and doesnt seem to care. I heard his footsteps behind me.

"You walk out that door, dont you ever come back." He said, I dropped my bag and turned towards him. He smiled thinking I had decided to stay.

The tears started flowing freely then. Seeing how cold he was towards me, no emotion no love in his eyes. "What happened to us? We used to be so happy. When did things go bad?" I asked almost in a whisper.

He shrugged, "I dont know. I guess I fell out of love with you a long time ago. I dont want you anymore, Im moving on to better things. Keep the ring, pawn it, sell it whatever you wanna do."

I nodded and took the ring off my finger that I thought would never come off. I placed it in the palm of his hand and closed his hand around it. "Take care of yourself brantley." I walked back over to the door and picked my bag up and walked out to my old mustang sitting in the driveway.

I threw my bag in the back seat and slammed my car door. I started my car and drove down the driveway. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw brantley standing on the porch staring at my ring in his hand.

I drove all night that night until I made it to florida. I stopped at the first hotel and checked in. I called mama becky as soon as I was settled and told her what had happened. After that phone call I texted brantleys brother kolby and asked him to pick my stuff up from brantleys. He said he would and asked if I was okay. I replied with a simple 'I will be.' I turned my phone off and curled up on the bed crying myself to sleep.

1 year later....

I was working at a local diner as a waitress working nights mostly but whenever someone called in I would be the first to take their shift. I was run down but I needed the money.

It was a little after 1 in the morning and there was no one in the diner. I took that moment to walk outside for a smoke break. My eyes felt heavy and I probaly got a total of 4 hours of aleep over the past 36 hours. Rent had to be paid so I sucked it up and done what had to be done. I walked back into the diner and I heard on the speakers a voice from the local radio dj.

'Here is the new single from the newest and hottest thing in country music today. Heres shes my kinda crazy by brantley gilbert.' 

My heart stopped as I heard his beautiful voice coming through the speakers. I closed my eyes and the lyrics just broke my heart. I have missed him so much and I still think about the day that everything changed. The bell above the door rang as someone came in the diner.

Sal the night manager walked out feom behind the counter. "Sit anywhere you like sir, our waitress will be with you shortly." I was still stuck in a daze but I cleared my head and pulled out my paper and pen ready to take the order.

I turned and walked over to the booth where the man was sitting. I couldnt believe my eyes. Brantley sitting there drumming his fingers on the table. Watching me. I stumbled a bit but remembered what happened a year ago. I stood straighter and walked over, not looking at him.

"What can I get you?" I said very coldly.

"How bout a smile darlin." He said smoothly.

I rolled my eyes. "We only serve food and drinks here. You want a smile theres a bar right across the way there. Im sure you will find lots of them there."

I still had my eyes glued to my pad of paper, my pen hovering waiting for him to say what he really wanted. After a few minutes I turned my back "let me know when you decide."

That statement was about more than just his food choices. I was wanting ro see if he really had changed. I took the rag from behind the counter and started wiping tables down that were already squeaky clean. I just wanted to keep busy. I wanted to keep my mind off of brantley.

I saw movement from the corner of my eye. I looked up and brantley was motioning for me. I walked over pulling my pen and paper pad out again. "Finally decide on something?"

I still wouldnt look at him, he sighed "yeah burger, fries, and a mountain dew."

I scribbled it down and ripped the paper off. "Alright be right back with your drink." I said turning before he could say anything else. I gave the order to the cook and got his drink ready. I waited until his food was done before I took it to him.

"Heres your food and your drink. Enjoy." I said trying to turn away but he grabbed my wrist.

"Why dont you have a seat? Looks like im your only customer so you cant be busy."

I growled and plopped down on the other side of the booth looking at anywhere but at him. I kept quiet, the only sound was the music comig from the speakers and the hum from the fridge behind the counter.

"Would you just look at me (Y/N)? Please?" He said sounding exhausted. I sighed and looked him dead in the eyes. Shutting off all emotions. I waited for him to speak, he sighed and closed his eyes. He shook his head, "you look tired."

I chuckled humorlessly, "wow thanks. Thats a nice way of saying I look like shit."

He shook his head, "no I meant it just like it came out. You look tired. But youre still beautiful."

I snickered and rolled my eyes. "Rents gotta be paid brantley. I have to work to make rent." He nodded and he opened his mouth but before he could speak I cut him off. "Why the hell are you here brantley?"

He grabbed for my hand but I pulled back. "I came to see you darlin."

I rolled my eyes, "well you saw me. Now can I get back to work?"

I went to get up but this time he did grab my hand. "Please just talk to me. Its been a year. Im sober now. Thinking clearly for the first time."

I smiled at that, "thats great brantley." I pulled my hand from his and stood up. "Im really happy that you have turned your life around. I heard your song on the radio right before you came in. Its great, just hate that its about that damn whore." I said the last part through gritted teeth. He shook his head and opened his mouth as if to say something but the bell rang above the door before he could.

I turned to see a young couple that looked weary from a road trip come in. "Hey yall sit anywhere you want. Ill be right there." I turned back towards brantley who still hadnt touched a bite of his food. I shrugged, "duty calls. Heres your check, if you want anything else let me know and Ill adjust it. If not sal can ring you up when youre done. Bye brantley, take care of yourself."

The younger couple ordered breakfast platters and coffee so I was pretty busy with refilling their cups and everything. Right as my shift ended an hour later I walked outside and lit me a much needed cigarette. I started walking over to my mustang but slowed up when I noticed brantleys truck parked right beside it. Brantley was leaning against the side of it casually smoking a cigarette himself.

I walked over just as he threw his cigarette to the ground. "There you are." He said smiling.

I fished my keys out of my purse and went to unlock my door. Brantley stopped me before I could climb in. "Hey, I was hoping we could talk for a minute." He said, his voice filled with hope.

I sighed and slumped against my car. "Im very tired brantley. I wanna go home and go to bed. Make it quick." I sighed glancing at my watch.

"Okay, look I know things ended bad between us and everything." I raised one of my eyebrows at him and crossed my arms. "Whats your point brantley?"

He sighed, "I dont know what Im trying to say. Look, mama told me where you were and I wanted to bring some stuff to you. I thought you might want it." He handed me a box the size of a shoe box. I took it and nodded.

"I uh, got a show the next town over. If you want Ill leave you a ticket at will call." He said rubbing the back of his neck.

I turned and climbed in my car and placed the box beside me in the seat. "Thanks but no thanks. Im swamped at work and I cant afford to take off."

He nodded and leaned down, "I know I just thought...."

I cut him off before he could speak. "Nothings changed brantley. Now if youll excuse me Im going home to get some sleep before my next shift in a few hours."

I cranked my car and didnt give him a chance to reply. I knew if he did then I would probably break. It was hard enough seeing him tonight and trying to act like I didnt care. All I wanted to do was throw myself in his arms and let him kiss away this last miserable lonely year.

Also in the back of my mind was what he did. He cheated when he promised he never would. He promised he would always love me but he told me that day he fell out of love with me. I could never forget that.

I drove back to my small apartment and headed straight for the bed. Sleep came easy but those blue eyes haunted my dreams.

[hystericalrogertaylor]

Reconnecting (Chapter Seventeen)

Pairing: Ben Hardy!Roger Taylor X Reader

Word count: 1693

Summary: (Y/n) and Roger have been friends since the cradle. When they’re suddenly pulled apart and reconnected years later, they both can tell that the relationship has evolved. They lead very different lifestyles now. Can they continue what they had, or go for something more, with this gap between them?

Warnings: Talking about anxiety/anxiety attacks, mentions of sex, cussing

A/N: Pffffff I’m way off of my updating schedule. I’m updating this from a hospital bed lmao. Nothing bad, just having a minor operation tomorrow morning. I’ll make a post about this, but I probably won’t be that active tomorrow, and that’s why. Enjoy this chapter!

My masterlist with all my other stories and the previous parts of this story can be found there! Reblog this with feedback if you liked it! Or if you didn’t like it and want to vent about how shitty it is, reblog it anyway! 

~~~

Three months after first laying in bed with Roger as a couple, you were squeezed into his bunk on the bus as the vehicle rumbled down the road, away from Market Square Arena in Indianapolis. He had his shirt off, with the curtain drawn to give you two some privacy. He was sweaty, but you didn’t care as you lay on top of him, kissing him passionately. He had his hands up your shirt, his fingers almost tickling you as they gently ran up and down your sides.

You broke the kiss, panting heavily as you buried your face in his neck. “You looked really good tonight.”

He let out a low chuckle, reaching a hand down to squeeze your ass. “I always do better when you’re watching.” You tried to make it to every show, but sometimes Reid needed help with some manager stuff, or sometimes you were in pain and wanted to lie down. The wound had healed really well and you rarely needed to take it easy anymore, but there was the odd day when you had to sit out of the day’s festivities.

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss onto his jaw. “No, I mean you looked really hot. I just couldn’t stop thinking about kissing you.”

He smirked, slowly rolling over until he was on top of you. “Well, to be fair, I’m always thinking about kissing you.”

You blushed, turning your face to the side. “Stopppp.”

He used a finger to tilt your face back towards his, pressing a short kiss on your lips. He sighed, twirling a piece of your hair. “God, you’re beautiful.”

You bit your lip, bringing his face back down to yours a few seconds later. He moaned quietly into the kiss, putting his hand on the wall of the bunk above your head.

“Ugh, guys, there are other people trying to sleep here,” Brian grumbled, rustling around in his much-too-small bunk. “I was gonna let it slide, but you guys sounds like you’re dying to fuck each other. Not cool.”

Roger broke away, rolling his eyes. “I’m well aware that these bunks are too small to fuck in. Trust me, I’ve tried.”

You sighed. “Rog, I’m right here.”

“Oops, sorry.” He grimaced, remembering you don’t like hearing about his past hookups, which was reasonable. “Brian, I’m allowed to kiss my girlfriend.”

“Until it wakes us up,” Freddie chimed in. “I love that my favorite couple are happy, but I’m exhausted. So please, speak quietly.”

You chuckled. “Goodnight, Freddie.”

“Goodnight darling, use a condom.”

“FREDDIE!” Roger shouted, eliciting a loud shushing noise from Brian. John continued to sleep soundly.

---

A couple weeks later came a series of three concerts in Santa Monica. Reid decided it would be best for the band to stay in a hotel for that time period. Freddie researched the most lavish hotels in the area, and found one similar to the hotel in Liverpool. He purposely got four rooms so you and Roger could share. Not that you minded; it would mean less cramped sleeping than on the bus, and you still got to be with your boyfriend.

The concept of having Roger Taylor as your boyfriend still baffled you sometimes. James had made you feel worthless in the final months of your relationship, and now someone as amazing as Roger was willing to publicly admit to being in a relationship with you. The thought made your heart swell.

And Roger couldn’t understand how he managed to end up with you, either. He was a notorious womanizer of the rock world, which made long-term relationships very difficult; look at his relationship with Gayle. All they did was shag and fight. Now, he was able to do normal relationship things, like staying up late and giggling, kissing whenever, talking about deep topics, and cuddling. You were a serial cuddler, and Roger loved it. He loved holding your body against his and feeling the warmth radiating off of you. It was the time spent with you, in those intimate moments, that made Roger happier than he’d ever been.

“I have an idea,” Roger said, sitting down next to you on the couch in your room.

You pulled your knees to your chest, setting your book down on the table next to you. “Well, do tell.”

He cleared his throat. “So you know how the pier is only a few minutes’ walk away, right?” You nodded. “Well, what if I took you there tomorrow, after the show, as our first official date as a couple?”

You’d been talking to Roger about a date, but he’d been so busy during the whole tour that he hadn’t been able to put anything together. You were okay with it, you just wished it could’ve been different. Now, you were smiling as wide as you could. “I would love that,” you said.

Roger returned your smile, tackling you into a hug. You both fell off the couch, lying on the floor next to each other. You began to laugh, while Roger pushed his hair out of his face, staring up at the ceiling.

“Whoops,” he breathed, chuckling. “Sorry.”

You grimaced, trying to ignore the pain in your stomach; the scar didn’t like aggravation like that. “It’s fine.”

He rolled over, hovering over you with his elbow on the floor. “Did it hurt the scar?”

“A little, but it’ll be fine tomorrow morning.” You tried to sit up, but before you could, Roger brought his lips down to yours. You put your head back down on the floor, pulling him on top of you. He put his forearms on either side of your head, holding himself up. Your hands explored his chest over his shirt, feeling the muscles bulging after the exercise he got by playing the drums at the concert. He broke away, moving his lips down to your neck. You groaned, digging your fingers into his hair.

“Let’s go to sleep,” Roger murmured into your skin.

You nodded. “My scar hurts.”

He placed a kiss on your forehead before standing up, holding his hand down to help you up. You pulled yourself up and walked over to one of the beds, gently laying down on your side. Roger lay down next to you, pulling you into his body. You sighed in contentment, drawing circles on his chest with your finger.

“Goodnight, love,” Roger whispered.

“Goodnight, Rog.”

---

The pier was scaring you, if you were being honest.

For some reason, you were worried you’d turn around at any moment, and he would be there, a knife in hand, ready to end you. You knew it was irrational, he was in prison on a different continent. But your anxiety was flaring up, and all the people around you didn’t make it better.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked as you nudged the hot dog he’d bought you, not even taking a bite.

“I’m anxious,” you answered honestly. You didn’t see any point in hiding your worries from him.

He sighed. “Do you want to go back to the hotel?”

You shook your head. “I love being here with you, I just don’t like being around all these people.” You took a shaky breath. “I’m too worried he could be in these crowds.” Roger’s sad eyes made you wish you hadn’t said anything. You didn’t want to be a burden to him. “Forget it, let’s just--”

“Wait.” He grabbed your hand, squeezing it. “You know how we can get out of these crowds?” You frowned. “Let’s go on the Ferris wheel.”

You smiled. “That sounds fun,” you whispered.

Roger held you close as you made your way through the throngs of people towards the giant wheel. You stared at your feet, not looking up at anything until you were in line for the ride. Roger had his arm around your waist, trying his hardest to make sure no one bumped into you.

Once it was your turn, Roger paid a small fee and guided you towards the compartment that would be yours. You sat down next to him, placing your head on his shoulder as the machine began to move.

“Thank you,” you said, looking into his eyes. “I feel like I would’ve had an actual anxiety attack if I’d stayed down there longer.”

“No problem.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Your fears are not irrational. But just know I’m here to help you and keep you safe. No one’s gonna touch you.”

You sniffled, a few tears running down your face. “You’re amazing.”

He smiled. “Only for you.”

The ferris wheel stopped, and you noticed you were at the very top. “They must be letting someone else on,” you reasoned.

Roger looked over the side of the car. “Wow,” he said. “You’ve gotta check this out.”

You peered over the same side, gasping at what you saw. All the lights, the skyline, and the ocean at your back all worked together to create the most beautiful scene you’d ever seen. It was breathtaking. The world had never seemed so beautiful.

“Roger, this is…” You looked over at him, finding him staring at you. “What?��

His eyes flicked down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “You are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

You hid your face in your hands. “Ahh, I’m blushing.”

He grabbed your wrists and pulled your hands away gently. “Can I kiss you?” he asked slowly. You nodded, and he slowly placed his lips on yours.

It was something else. The cold breeze gave you goosebumps, causing you to shiver and move closer to Roger. He wrapped both arms around you, almost pulling you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck, tilting your head to the side.

“(Y/n)?” he asked, pulling away and placing his forehead on yours. His lips still brushed against yours, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss him again.

“Yeah?” you responded.

“I…” He trailed off, moving his eyes to look at the ocean before looking back at you. “I’m having a great time.”

You nodded. “I am too.”

He reconnected his lips to yours just as the wheel began to spin.

Taglist:

@thessxoxo @roger-bang-the-drum @slavsher @sabbrrriinnaa @i-ship-it-ironically @blissfully-queen @oyoke@borhapqueen92@girlpluto @secretsweetscollectionblog@bentaylorrogerhardy@16wiishes @emmieliabedelia @onevisionliz@mr-stank-i-dont-feel-so-dank@rebelrebelyourefaceisamess @cosmicsskies@thewinchesterchronicles @florenceivy @benhardyseyes@letmelivetaylor @destiel-stucky4ever-loki-queen @holding-onto-cas

[ohprettyweeper-moved]

Help Me Get Outta Here

Summary: Josh reunites with an old friend to get her out of a life or death situation.  Pairing: Josh x Reader Word Count: 2330 Warnings: Trigger Warning: Physical abuse. Language, one or two words, I think? Fighting.  Request: I’d like to request a Josh x reader where the reader is on tour with Josh and Tyler and her abusive ex comes and tries to get to her with a super protective Josh? Angsty with a fluffy ending? I love your fics! I get so excited when you post :) -- Anon. Thank you, Nonnie! I hope you enjoy this. I was trying to be careful with the subject matter, as there’s absolutely nothing fluffy about it. Please, if you find yourself in this situation, reach out to someone! Even if you don’t live where I live, I will help you find the resources you need if you have no one else. Please bear in mind this is only a work of fiction and has been highly dramatized.  Song Inspiration: Something Crazy - Franky Perez

GIF Source

You counted the days until the Twenty One Pilots tour stopped in a city you wished you had never moved to. Some days, it seemed like the date would never come. Other days, that circled number on your calendar was the light at the end of the tunnel you couldn’t get out of fast enough.

“What is that circle for anyway?” your boyfriend asked one day while you were working from home.

You shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing your arm where he had grabbed you just a few hours ago. “An appointment I need to remember. Meeting with the boss to present some of my recent work. A check-in, kind of.”

He didn’t reply, and you didn’t question it. You hadn’t questioned anything he did for months.

Finally, the day arrived. You casually packed your boyfriend’s lunch like you did everyday, acting as though everything was fine.

“Thanks, babe,” he smiled, kissing you quickly.

“Have a good day,” you returned, faking a smile as you saw him to the door. If luck was on your side, it would be the last time you would have to feel his lips on yours.

An hour passed before you were sure that he wasn’t going to come back. You packed the things you couldn’t live without in record time, then sat next to your bag and dialed a number you had memorized but never programmed into your phone.

“Hey, Y/N,” Josh answered cheerfully. “Ready to come to the show tonight?”

“Josh,” you said, your voice breaking with the relief of hearing his, “I need you to come get me.”

“Where are you?”

“My place. But there’s a gas station down the road — I’ll send you the intersection. It’s not a good idea for me to stay here.”

Josh didn’t answer right away; you heard shuffling in the background. “Okay, yeah. Text me where I need to go. I’m on my way now.”

You sent the text, tears streaming down your face. You had never been so relieved and so scared in your entire life. You just knew that your boyfriend was going to show up at any minute, realize you were making a run for it, and kill you.

Not until Josh pulled a dark SUV, obviously rented, into the gas station parking lot close to where you were standing, did relief finally take over the fear that was tensing your muscles. Josh got out of the car, tossing his keys and sunglasses onto the driver seat.

“Y/N, what the hell is going on?” Josh asked, pulling you into a hug.

You hugged him back, but only for a quick embrace. This moment had been on your mind for months now, so you had known for a while there would be no words that you could manage without falling apart. Swallowing down your pride — since you were past the point of lying, anyway — you pulled up the sleeves of your jacket to reveal the most recent bruises you had endured.

“Oh my gosh …” Josh said, his fingers running lightly over your marred skin. “Did he do this to you?”

You nodded, pulling your lip in between your teeth. “I didn’t think I was this person, to let it get this far.”

“You’re not,” Josh assured, though every bit of evidence pointed to the contrary. He pulled you back into a hug, one hand cradling the back of your head, stroking your hair. “You’re with me now, okay? Nothin’s gonna happen to you again.”

Nothing stopped you from believing him. You had been friends with Josh for several years now, having met him when you were working at Fueled by Ramen. Even after you left New York, the two of you had stayed close friends and stayed in touch. In all the time you had been friends, Josh had never given you a reason not to trust him. Maybe that was the reason why you had known you could go to him with something like this.

“All right,” Josh said, once your stuff was packed in the back of the SUV and you were safely buckled into the passenger seat. “Let’s get out of here.”

The first thing Josh did was to check the two of you into a hotel. He needed to be at soundcheck soon, but you could at least drop your stuff off, then go to the venue with him.

“Y/N,” Tyler said, hugging you the moment he saw you. “Want me to kill him?”

You smirked. “Josh can’t keep a secret from you, can he? And anyway Ty, I appreciate the offer, but I’m not sure you’re the violent type, no matter how fussy you get.”

He chuckled as he let you go. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Josh, I’ll see you out there, man.”

Josh nodded, but took your hand. “You wanna stay here, or you wanna come watch soundcheck?”

You thought for a moment. “I know we just got here, but do you actually mind if I go back to the hotel? I wanna shower and nap before the show tonight. I haven’t had a peaceful night of sleep in I don’t know how long.”

“Of course. I’ll have one of the guards drop you, and pick you up before the show.”

“Thank you.”

He introduced you to the guard who would be driving you, kissed your cheek, and waved as he headed off to soundcheck.

More than only a shower, you treated yourself to a bubble bath. You washed your hair, shaved your legs, and ignored the bruises in various stages of healing over your body. Once you were dried off and your hair combed, you put on some comfy pajamas, laid out the outfit you planned to wear to the concert, and snuggled up against the pillows.

You’re going to have to tell him, your mind nagged as you tried to fall asleep. With a sigh, you pushed the subconscious reminder away. You would tell Josh the real reason why you had hoped he would be hero, but not today. Not when it seemed so convenient that he had come to your rescue and shortly thereafter, you confessed to being in love with him.

Back at the venue, you were enjoying too much waiting with Josh and Tyler for the show to start. Josh stayed close by, constantly holding your hand or putting an arm around your waist or shoulders. A protective move, you were certain, but it only fueled the nagging in your mind every time Josh touched you.

“All right, I’m on first,” Josh said, placing his hands on your hips.

You nodded. “Maybe when you’re done and wound down — before you leave for the next stop — we could talk?”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. Either you were going to have to come up with something good to tell him, like the details of the last couple years of your life that you had kept hidden away, or you were going to have to tell him the truth about how you felt.

Josh nodded. “Yeah, of course. I’ll see you after, right back here.”

“And I’ll be watching till I gotta come back here.” You chuckled nervously, thinking about what an idiot you sounded like right now.

“Sounds good.” He kissed your cheek again, then followed Tyler out to the stage.

“Ma’am, I’ve got to take you back.”

You turned to the guard and frowned. “But the show’s not over?”

“Last song,” he shrugged.

Nodding and feeling disappointed, you followed him back to the dressing room. You thanked him for escorting you, and walked in to take a seat on the couch — except that your (now ex) boyfriend was already sitting there.

“Thanks, Foster,” he said, smiling to the guard.

Foster nodded and shut the door behind him. You turned slowly back to your boyfriend, fear overcoming you once again.

“How did you find me here?”

He got up from the couch and shrugged. “Foster and I go way back, to my football days. He saw you here with that drummer guy, gave me a call. I was so worried about you, babe.”

You took a step back as he approached you. “I don’t want you anymore. I left you. It’s over.”

“No, it’s not. Not until I say — and I won’t say that until you’re gone.”

This was exactly what you had feared; that he would find you and kill you. But, you could hear the crowd, and you knew if you stalled long enough, someone else would come in the room. You just had to make him wait to take you until then.

Josh admitted only in his head that he was slightly disappointed you weren’t right off stage after the show. He wiped the sweat off his brow, high-fived those waiting and followed the escort down the hall to the dressing room. The show had been amazing, but he was really looking forward to this talk with Y/N. He had some things he wanted to talk to her about, too.

Of course, he wasn’t expecting her piece of shit boyfriend to be sitting with her on the couch. Her face was smiling, but her eyes were full of fear. Josh swallowed down his anger and reminded himself to play it cool.

“Hey, what’s going on here?”

The jerk had the nerve to smile in Josh’s presence. “Just came to get my girl. Thanks for watching out for her while she was here. She likes to get into trouble, this one.”

Josh watched as the other man took her by the hand and tugged her off the couch. He exchanged a glance with Tyler, who only shook his head once. That was enough to tell Josh that Y/N looking scared wasn’t just in his head, it was real. Before they could walk past him, Josh stepped in the jerk’s path, while Tyler reached out for Y/N’s hand. The jerk was so distracted by Josh challenging him, he didn’t think to hang on to Y/N.

“I think she’s gonna stay with me, actually. She doesn’t want to go with you.”

“And what makes you think she wants to be with you?”

Josh snorted. “Well, when she wanted a real man, she left you and called me. That says enough, doesn’t it?”

The jerk pushed Josh back, not to put distance between them, but with the clear intention of starting a fight. Josh took a deep breath and put his hands up in surrender.

“I don’t wanna fight you, man, all right? I just think you need to leave before more people get here who’ll haul you off, and you’ll have bigger trouble than just me.”

The next few moves happened in a blur and slow motion all at once. The jerk pressed forward, arm cocked back. Josh’s hands were still up in surrender, but they quickly changed to a guarded stance before he landed a single punch dead between the jerk’s eyes. A nasty crunch was heard seconds before blood flowed from his nose.

More guards stormed into the room then, taking the jerk down to the ground, waiting for the police stationed at the venue to come to the scene. Josh stepped back, letting them do their job. He looked back to where Y/N was waiting with Tyler, her chin quivering as she tried to hold it together. Josh held out his arms for her, and Y/N rushed into his embrace, telling him again and again how sorry she was to bring that trouble to him.

“Don’t even worry about it,” Josh assured, kissing her hair. “We’ll let them get him out of here, get what they need from you, then we’ll go back to the hotel, all right?”

Y/N nodded, stepping back to go with the officer waiting to take her statement. Josh watched her go, finding that he didn’t want to let her out of his sight for even a second.

Back at the hotel, you slipped into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and brush your teeth. Josh had changed at the venue, but you gave him some time to shower before either of you started any kind of discussion.

When he came out, his hair dripping and slightly mussed from his shower, you were patiently waiting on the bed. Josh sat next to you on the edge of the mattress.

“I know the plan was for you to stay here a couple days until you could figure where to go, but I think it’s better if you come on the road with me for a while. Just until they get him put away for good, for a while.”

You opened your mouth to thank him, to tell him that you didn’t want to be any more of an imposition, but something entirely different fell off your tongue. “I love you, Josh.”

Josh’s jaw went slack. He stared at you for several seconds before cupping your cheek and leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I love you too, Y/N.”

“You do?” you squeaked out, eyes filling with tears. “I always figured that you wanted something, someone that was … well, not me. We were only friends. But when I needed a safe place, I wanted it to be you. I know that’s not fair, I --”

“Y/N, slow down,” Josh smiled, taking your hand. “I love you too, remember? I want to be your safe place just as much as you want me to be your safe place. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

You nodded your understanding. Then, you lifted your chin, beckoning Josh for another kiss -- something he didn’t mind at all obliging. Both of you knew that there were more discussions that needed to happen, and you needed time to heal. Fortunately, there was now plenty of time ahead of you to work it all out -- together.

[thing-you-do-with-that-thing]

Old Flames, New Sparks - Part 1: What Friends Are For

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Danneel Harris, Mrs. Hendrickson (ofc), Roxy (ofc), Keith (omc - mentioned), Jensen Ackles (mentioned), Y/N’s family (mentioned)   

Pairing: Reader x Roxy, Reader x Keith, hinted Danneel x Reader, Danneel x Jensen.

Warnings: bad ex girlfriend, terrible family, cheating (not reader, Dani or Jay), horrible ex boyfriend.    

Word Count: 1900ish

A/N: You have no idea how long I have been wanting to write a series like this. For once it is not all completely planned out and I am not sure where this ride is gonna take us. I do know that I love Jensen and Danneel to pieces and I am gonna make sure there is a happy ending in this for them somehow.

This series is written for my free square in @spnpolybingo

Thanks to my amazing lil sis @mysupernaturalfics for betaing this series for me.

MASTERLIST

It was the second time in your life Danneel had saved you when you had nowhere to go. You knew just like you had then, that you probably shouldn’t take her up on her offer, but there was something about her. Something that always drew you to her and made it impossible for you to say no to her.

You had been the black sheep in your family for as long as you could remember. Being bi in the deep south was not something that people looked kindly on. At least not your family. And when you told them what you wanted to do with your life, you had been as good as dead to them. When you left home you had no one. No one but your girlfriend who was coming to LA to meet you as soon as she finished a few classes of summer school. You had no reason to stay in Georgia and every reason in the world to get out there and pursue your hopes and dreams. But being on your own was hard. It was in your nature to just blindly trust people, which had got you in trouble even after only a few days in the golden state.  

You let out a deep sigh. You should have know that an apartment listing this cheep, was too good to be true. You felt close to tears, not knowing what to do. All of your stuff was already moved in and you had nowhere to go but back home. Everyone had called you crazy for up and leaving for LA to pursue your dream as an actress and singer. The last thing you wanted to do was to prove them right.

“I am so sorry darling. I don’t know what to tell you,” Mrs. Hendrickson looked destroyed. Like it somehow was her fault some idiot had managed to make a key for the apartment, putting out an ad and renting it to you with no legal rights. The money you had put up for it was obviously lost and you had no means to get a new place now.

“Look there are two rooms. I already put down the deposit and paid first month’s rent,” the beautiful young woman behind Mrs. Hendrickson spoke. “If you wanna stay here with me until you find your own place or if you wanna just be roommates I am fine with that. If it’s okay with Mrs. Hendrickson of course,” she quickly added as your mouth fell a gab. She didn’t have to do that. You were a complete stranger to her and she had every right to the apartment while you had none.

“Of course. If it’s fine by you sweetheart. I’m gonna leave the two of you to work things out then,” the older woman send you a reassuring smile before handing a key to the younger woman as she left.

“You don’t have to do this,” you said quietly as soon as the door closed and the young woman send you a warm smile that instantly made you feel at ease.

“I know I don’t. I want too. I just moved here too. I could use a new friend,” she shrugged before reaching out her hand. “I’m Danneel.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how it had seemed to be the most natural thing in the world to he, to just let a strange girl stay in her appartment, for as long as you needed too. You remembered how you had helped her move in, offering to move out of the biggest bedroom you already had your things in and how she would have none of it.

“Don’t be ridiculous. Your stuff is already in there. Beside mine has a view,” she had winked at you and you remembered how your heart had skipped a beat, that caused you to scold yourself.

Living with Danneel had turned out to be the best thing that could ever have happened to you. The two of you were joined at the hip in no time. You went to auditions together. She cheered you on when you tried to get stations to play you demos and you went with her to modelling shoots. You cooked together, watched movies and went out. She quickly became the best friend you had ever had and she had been there for you the night Roxanne had called you, telling you she couldn’t go chasing after an impossible dream with you. She had told you, you had been a phase and that she had found a guy that was willing to forgive all her mistakes and marry her anyway.

“Y/N, I shopped for homemade pizzas. Do you wanna…” Danneel stopped in the doorway as she saw you sitting on the edge of your bed crying. “Sweetie what’s wrong?” Danneel rushed to your side, sitting down beside you and wrapping you in her arms. That was all it took for you to completely dissolve into tears. You cried as Danneel held you, gently rubbing her hands up and down your back. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t have too. You knew she was there for you. Just waiting for you to be ready to talk.

“She said I was a mistake,” you sobbed and Danneel pulled away a little, looking at you with a shocked expression on her face.

“What?”

“Roxy. She is getting married to some guy and she said I was a phase. She basically called me a mistake,” you managed to get out in between sobs, not looking at Danneel. You had been looked down upon your entire life. Even before you realized you weren’t straight you never really fit. Part of you were just waiting for her to see you as she freak everyone else did.

“Well it’s her fucking loss,” Danneel exclaimed making you look up in surprise. “I am sorry sweetie, but if she doesn’t see how amazing you are, she doesn’t deserve you.” She wrapped her arms around you again, making you cling to her. You hadn’t expected her to react like this. Even if you had loved her within the first few hours, the two of you had spend together, you still hadn’t realized until that second how lucky you were to have her in your life.

“I get that you are sad, but sweetie don’t waste your tears on her. You deserve to be happy. If she thinks of you as a phase or something to try then she never deserved you,” Danneel spoke softly, stroking the hair away from your face. The worried loving expression on her face made you smile a little. You were going to be okay. With a best friend like that there was nothing you couldn’t get past.

Danneel had always been there for you. Even after you had gotten your record deal and moved to Nashville. You had been on the phone for hours telling each other about new tv roles, new crushes, new songs, horrible break-ups. She had been your person and your anchor ever since she had first walked into your life. She still was your person and the only one you needed to talk to when you walked in on Keith with another woman.

You felt as if your heart had been ripped out of your chest the moment you saw them, her scrambling to her her clothes back on and him covering himself with one of your favourite pillows. You had said nothing. Not when he had pleaded with you to stay, not when you had packed your bags, not when you had gotten in your car and left. You had only broken down in tears the moment you had heard your best friend’s voice over the phone as you were sitting on the Hotel bed. She had stayed on the line with you for hours, listening to you cry and making you chuckle with her creative ways of how Keith should be punished. It had taken her over an hour to convince you to get behind the wheel of your car and come see her as soon as you could. It had taken you a week to get everything in order with the studio but now here you were.

Austin 20 miles.  

You hadn’t seen her for well over 3 years, but it still came natural as ever to open her home and heart to you when you told her you just needed to get away from it all. Everything in Nashville reminded you of Keith. There was nothing there for you anymore and you had build your career well enough that you could write your music from anywhere you wanted too. You needed a break and some fresh air. She had know that without you ever even asking anything from you.

“Wow what a dick! Y/N/N I am so sorry,” Danneel’s voice sounded over the phone, making you wish she was in the hotelroom you had fled too with you and not states over. “You should come live here for a while,” she added softly before you could even get out another word.

“What? Are you crazy? You just got engaged. Jensen doesn’t even know me. I can’t impose like that,” you rambled, more than anything wanting to take her up on her offer despite of your words.

“So what. He won’t mind. Actually he would tell me to ask you to come stay here for a while if I were to go tell him about any of this right now,” Danneel insisted, “sweetie just come. We could hang out just like old times. I miss you.”

You smiled at her words. You wished things could be like old times, but they couldn’t. She was still your best friend though and no matter how in love with her you still were, you missed her. You missed doing normal everyday things with her and just being around her. You were filled with a warmth when she smiled and everything about her made you feel at ease. She was the only one in your life, you knew with absolute certainty would never betray you. She would always be there for you, no matter what stupid mistakes you made and what secrets you would tell her. She accepted and loved you for who you were and you loved her for it.  

“You’re sure he won’t mind?” you asked her quietly, knowing Danneel would know without a word what you were really asking.

“Y/N/N there is nothing I don’t tell Jay. He have been dying to meet you and you’re gonna be my maid of honor. Planning the wedding will be so much easier with you in the guest room instead of in some hotel room in Nashville. Please?” Danneel pleaded with you and you couldn’t help but laugh as you agreed. You couldn’t say no to her. You had never been able too and you never would. No matter what she asked you would be there for her. She always had and always would be for you.  

You took a deep breath as you pulled off the interstate, driving through the beautiful residential neighborhood of Austin Danneel had directed you too. You weren’t sure what to expect from this stay but you knew he couldn’t wait to see her. You only hoped her fiancee wasn’t as big of an ass as your ex had proved himself to be.

Old Flames, New Sparks

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