#to be fair he doesn’t want to carry more books when we move next month

[sheisanimposter]

What kinds of purchases do y’all hide from your partners and explain later? Mine is 100 year old books.

[mercy-burning]

Page Turner

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: Y/N becomes a little impatient while Spencer is reading... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Thigh riding, thigh fucking, cum play Word Count : 2.5k

MASTERLSIT

NOTE: this is just FILTH FILTH FILLLTHHHHH, and it was supposed to be a blurb but i got kinda carried away so it’s a little longer than that... so enjoy your porn with no plot 😊😂 And shoutout to @broken-stardust for beta-ing this for me!! we originally talked about the idea for this fic months ago, so i’m glad you finally got to see it ❤

———

She was in the mood for a little trouble.

Well, it was more like she was in the mood for a good fuck, but at the moment, with Spencer's strong desire to finish this incredibly long book series he'd just discovered, the mood for trouble came as more of a... fun little footnote that would most certainly add to the experience she was looking for.

So she strode up to Spencer, who was sitting comfortably on the couch with his book open and his glasses perched cutely on the tip of his nose, and straddled herself on his right leg wearing nothing but a pair of thin cotton underwear and a t-shirt.

"Hey," she said, low and seductive as she planted a wet kiss into his neck. Her hands clutched his shirt, willing herself to be closer and with every intention of him putting the book down and paying her some attention.

Either he truly wasn’t in the mood, or he was teasing her.

"Hey," is all he responded with, clipped and distant. His eyes scanned the pages, albeit slower than usual due to the woman clinging herself to him and begging for attention.

"You've been reading all weekend," Y/N half-whined, pressing herself into him and attaching her lips to his neck again. "Can't you at least take a little break?"

"It won't take me long to finish this book, and then we can, okay?"

She knew it was fair. It was more than fair, actually, but that didn't help the fact that she was still incredibly horny, and if she took care of it herself, it wouldn't have been enough. Maybe that was selfish, but she didn't care.

So she whined for real this time, more like a disappointed child, as she gripped his shirt and pulled herself closer to him. "Spencer..."

She expected him to warn her, to tell her to wait or something—anything—but instead he opted for the exact opposite.

He did nothing.

Y/N promptly decided that wasn't the correct response and rolled her hips, grinding down on his leg for friction. Her tongue drew a messy line up the side of his neck as she circled her hips and sought out the stimulation she so desperately wanted. And at the way his body tensed under her, obviously wanting the same things but holding out in favor of restraint, she knew her plan was close to working.

So she let out a long, content sigh and tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging it gently and continued to ride his thigh, moving quicker and harder with each second as she felt her body start to unravel. Her lips attached to his neck and mumbled all sorts of little noises that should have gotten him to fucking do something...

And still, even as she felt herself cling to him and her body recover from a short (and quite frankly unsatisfying) orgasm, Spencer remained in his position, still flipping pages in that godforsaken book.

"Spencer," Y/N grunted. She was exasperated, and strongly hoping that she wasn't giving him any satisfaction in her need for attention.

However, instead he seemed a little defensive. "Wh—You're distracting me! I can't finish the book as quickly if you're distracting me..."

"Fine," she sighed, peeling herself away from him and trying one last thing to get him to submit.

Y/N slid the underwear off her legs and tossed it gently at his face, watching it fall into his lap in front of the book.

Still nothing. His eyes roamed the pages, and he was clearly highly invested in whatever story was written on them. And god damn it if he still wasn't the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

So she slunk back to the bedroom and plopped herself down on the bed with only a t-shirt, laying down and crossing one leg over the other. And when she tossed her head to the side with a sigh, she noticed the other books in Spencer's current interest scattered along his side of the bed.

Well, I'm not particularly in the mood anymore, and there's really nothing else to do...

"Why the fuck not," Y/N sighed, reaching out and fishing for the book that had the number 1 printed on the spine.

***

With the final paragraphs of the story swimming through his brain, the book settled closed and neatly on the cushion beside him, Spencer looked down at his lap and noticed the bundle of cotton sitting there, next to a small damp spot on his pants where his girlfriend had been just under a half hour earlier.

He felt bad, ignoring her like that. It was hard resisting her when she was literally there, in his lap and getting herself off on his leg. And while he could practically hear Morgan in the back of his mind, telling him with disappointment in his voice, "It doesn't matter how important you think something is, that is always gonna be the most important thing,"... Spencer really couldn't help it. The book was so good he couldn't put it down. Not even for sex.

And now that he'd finished, he was focusing on what his brain decided it couldn't handle before, remembering her wet, hot breath on his neck and her fingers tangled in his hair as she rode his thigh, begging him for attention.

He was feeling guilty.

And he was going to spend the whole rest of the weekend making it up to her. He swore it, no matter who called, no matter what came up, he wasn't going to pay any attention to it unless it was his girlfriend's limbs tangled with his.

His hand reached for the book so he could return it with the others, but he thought better of it, wondering if Y/N would say anything. Instead, he figured walking in empty-handed and announcing how he was ready to give her his undivided attention for the rest of eternity if she'd let him would be a better option.

Spencer was feeling good about his decision, but when he opened the bedroom door and saw her, he felt even worse about ignoring her.

Because there she was, one foot pressed flat into the mattress and the other crossed over her knee, exposing her bare cunt to the world as she held a book in her hands. She looked statuesque and absolutely delectable, and he'd turned her down for a book he could have easily finished tomorrow morning.

Oh, he was definitely going to make it up to her...

"H—Hey, babe," he got out, trying to get her attention like she hadn't already heard the squeaky door open.

"Hey," she responded, similar in tone to how he'd answered the same greeting earlier, and it made his stomach turn.

Was she doing it on purpose?

Spencer took cautious steps towards her, stepping around the bed and clearing off the books scrambled on his side so he could take their place. "What are you reading?"

Rather than speaking, she tilted the book so he could see the cover and then returned to her position, eyes scanning the pages, and he couldn't tell if she was doing it to mess with him or if she was truly invested.

"Okay... Well, um... I'm finished now, i—if you wanted to, um..."

When Y/N finally took her eyes off the pages, she looked at him up and down as he sat on the bed... She took in his apologetic eyes, the slight pout on his lips that she could never resist...

And then she resisted him. Sort of.

"Eh, sure. Just let me finish this chapter first."

She sounded utterly bored.

And once again, Spencer wasn't sure if it was genuine or if she was just doing it to get back at him. But either way, it made him feel bad about before. He wanted to respect her wishes, grant her the time to finish reading just as she'd granted it to him... But he also wanted to make sure she knew just how sorry he was.

"Oh... Okay." He laid down next to her and watched her face as she read, her eyes occasionally blinking, mimicking the butterflies in his stomach at the sight before him. Even if she was mad at him, she was still absolutely stunning, and he was never going to take it for granted.

His fingers reached out to brush some of the hair from her eyes so he could see her better, and despite herself, she smiled a little, gently leaning into his touch.

That's my way in...

"I'm really sorry, Y/N... For ignoring you. I was just really caught up in the book and I—"

"Babe, it's fine," she dismissed, like it wasn't ever a big deal in the first place. "Trust me, I totally get it now. This is so good..."

As soon as she finished speaking, her eyes were roaming the words again, her bottom lip tucking gently between her teeth as she turned a page.

Oh... so she wasn't just messing with me, then...

Spencer's eyebrows raised and he sighed a little, truly unsure where to go from here. "Oh... Well... I'm glad you like it?"

She hummed, barely acknowledging him, and it amused him to his very core. So much so that he couldn't help but lean forward to kiss her cheek out of habit. And when she scrunched her nose, barely brushing off his touch, he started feeling a bit more devious. So he kissed her again, this time on the jaw, and then again and again trailing down her neck. And he stayed there, sucking small marks into her skin while she remained in her position.

He remembered what he saw when he opened the door, and the thoughts swirling around in his head begged him to utilize it.

He really wanted to be polite and let her finish reading... But also...

Spencer shifted, leaving the bed only to return on the other end, with no pants as he crawled up in between her legs on his knees. Seeing as she wasn't going to move her legs at all, he settled for running his hands gently over them, tracing every dip and curve they took, all the way down to the back of her thigh, which was out and exposed as it was aiding in resting her ankle over her other knee.

When he got close to her exposed pussy, she shivered a little. "You're distracting me..."

The obvious teasing that laced her words sent a smile to his lips. He couldn't see her face for a moment, but then she angled the book down and peered over it, giving him eyes that challenged, Do it and see what happens...

So, without breaking eye contact, Spencer gently ran his finger along the opening of her wet cunt and watched as she flung the book back up to her face, hiding it from view. He played with her clit for a while, circling it gently with his thumb while his middle finger slowly slipped in and out of her.

Y/N whined. "That's not fair... At least when I was interrupting you, I didn't try to give you a handjob..."

Spencer hummed in agreement, removing his fingers from her and bringing them to his lips. "Hmm, I suppose you're right..."

So how am I going to make it even...

He took his dick out of his underwear then, holding it in his hand and resisting the urge to slip it inside of her. Instead, he settled for the small gap between her thighs, a whine escaping him once he realized it was nowhere near the amount of stimulation he'd get from anything else.

His hips snapped forward urgently as he chased some form of release, frustrated at how it felt good, but not nearly good enough.

"Not so fun, is it?" Y/N sang, flipping a page amusedly once he'd let out another exasperated whine.

"What's to stop me from just fucking you?" he hissed, gripping her legs and trying his hardest to be patient.

"You won't... Because you won't learn your lesson otherwise."

Now she was messing with him. She was punishing him for ignoring her, and he breathed a laugh, knowing he should have seen it coming. But he wasn't going to argue with her, not when he was well and truly aware that he deserved this.

Still, it didn't make it any easier.

Spencer's whimpering increased tenfold, though, once she took a little pity on him and squeezed her legs tighter, giving him more friction and bringing him closer to the edge.

"O—oh my g—od..."

It happened so fast. One second he was relieved at this new wave of pleasure and the next he was pulled underneath it, his lower half tensing, pulsing, and burning hot. God, she was warm... And wet, and tight, but in a completely different way than normal, and it all was too much.

Her thighs and lower stomach were covered in cum, and that thought alone was enough to keep him going. He was overstimulated and probably should have refrained, but the silky, warm skin of her thighs just felt so good gliding over his dick, he just couldn't.

By now, Y/N had completely tossed the book aside, watching in awe as Spencer seemed unaware of her actions. His eyes were shut tightly, so focused on coming again, and the head of his cock peeked out through the gap in her thighs with every thrust forward, glistening and nearly red...

And then he was coming again, and she watched as the milky substance spilled out over her skin. A strand of it dripped slowly down the front of her left thigh, and the sight made her whine.

Spencer opened his eyes then, an overwhelming kernel of love and adoration blooming through his chest as he watched her watch him.

And then everything slowed.

He shoved the book off the bed and laid down beside her, looking down to admire his work.

"Fuck," is all he said, in one huff.

He was clearly pleased with himself, a fact which made Y/N beam. "Oh, you like that, huh?"

With a vigorous nod, he reached a hand out to spread some of the mess around, his fingers gliding slowly and softly over the planes and curves of her still-crossed legs.

"We have to do that again... Though, I could do without the 'you punishing me' part..."

Y/N let out a laugh, grabbing his wrist and bringing his fingers to her mouth. She darted her tongue out to taste, slowly dragging the tip along the underside of his middle finger before taking it fully in her mouth.

"Don't give me a reason to punish you, then," she quipped back after letting his finger go with a soft pop and tilting her head to look at him.

That look in her eyes, the one that always gave him butterflies, elicited another heavy nod.

"Deal."

———

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[daisies-and-buttercups]

Day 14: Shooting Stars - Alfie Solomons x reader

Summary: You and the little girl you’re taking care of always spend your days on the beach, bumping into a grumpy old man and his dog. Days go by and all Ellie wants to do is watch the shooting stars with you, the grumpy man and Cyril, and who are you to say no to her?

A/N: Now, I love Alfie. Love him with all my heart. But writing for him terrified me lol But I decided that I’d try, ‘cause this idea would not leave me alone, so here it is. Fair warning, I probably, very possibly, butchered his accent, but I tried 💕

Words: 2k

September prompts here

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Margate was…something. Something you needed.  You had all but ran away from your city, leaving your job behind, and not much more. You didn’t have many friends, and none of them were close, no family, no lover, no relationships worth staying for, so you left. You didn’t even say goodbye, disappearing overnight, suitcases in hand, leaving only a note on your table with the month’s rent for when the landlord would come in.  You needed a new start, and Margate seemed as good a place as any. 

The first week went by slowly, with not much to do but set your new (small) apartment up, hang the few pictures you had on the wall and let some of your neighbours know that you were looking for a job. It was then that someone told you about Ellie, a little girl that lived down the road. Her mum needed someone to take care of her, take her out, after she had fallen ill and couldn't move much anymore. Ellie had spent many weeks indoors, waiting for her mum to get better, but eventually gave up on the idea. She needed someone to take care of her, and you were up for the task. 

“I wanna go to the beach!”  She loved the beach. Even if it was freezing now, she still loved to go, running on the sand and playing with the seagulls, and you had no problem going there with her. You met a few people on your walks, helping you fit in more and more with the people of Margate.  “Let’s go then.” She skipped along with you all the way to the beach, waving and greeting every person she met.  You reached the beach, running after Ellie as she sprinted towards the dog she had sighted not far away. She’d never learn. You told her many times to wait for you before approaching dogs, since some owners didn’t like kids around them, or some dogs could be afraid, but she loved them so much, she just couldn’t resist.  “Ellie!” you shouted when you reached her, trying to pry her away from the dog, who was licking her face, making her laugh at the gesture.  “He don’t bite.”  You turned at the voice, seeing a man sitting not far from you.  You nodded and stayed, watching the two play, until it was time to go. “Well, thank you…” “Alfie.”  “Alfie. See you around?” He didn’t answer, standing and calling for his dog, Cyril, lifting his hand as he walked away, a quick wave, you assumed. He was weird, but interesting. Something about him. Just like Margate, something you needed. “Why was his face like that?” “Hmm?” “His face?”  “Oh. He…” you didn’t know what to say. You weren’t sure what had happened to him, and you weren’t one to make stories up, so you just went with the truth. “I don’t know, I didn’t ask. But maybe you could try asking him next time? If he doesn’t mind he might tell you.”

It had become a habit to meet him on the beach. Same time, same place, same play buddy for Cyril. So you weren’t surprised to see him on the beach again, today, at the usual spot. Cyril spotted you and ran towards you, his tongue out and his tail wagging, ready to greet you and Ellie as he always did. You caressed him and played for a moment, before heading over and sitting with the big grumpy man. “‘Ello, lass” “‘Ello, you.” you mimicked him, sitting by his side, eyes fixed on Ellie, how she ran around, chased by Cyril, her laughter loud, bringing joy to the gloomy day.  You shuffled closer, feeling your leg brush against his. You liked him, you couldn’t deny it, and you loved spending time with him. He didn’t talk much, not when Ellie was around, anyway. Too afraid of swearing or scaring her. You remembered the second time you saw him. “Mister?” “Aye?” “Why is your face like that?” “Ellie!” you sent her a warning glance. It wasn’t the question, the problem, but the phrasing of it. You had gone over polite ways of asking delicate things, but she was so focused on the answer that she forgot all that you taught her. “Alfie, I’m sorry. She means-” “Ah, this? Right, I got shot right in the fuckin’-” “Alfie!”  Sometimes having both Ellie and Alfie around was like dealing with two kids, not one. You looked at him and pointed at Ellie, hoping he’d get it. He didn’t. “What?” “No swearing.”  “Ah.” You closed your eyes, waiting for him to carry on. “Got shot. In the face. Ah... yeah. ‘s all.”  Ellie walked closer to him, her hand gently grazing over his scar. He didn’t flinch, but nodded when she walked back, thanking him before running back to Cyril. “Fuckin’ ‘ell.” “I’m sorry. She was curious.” “Nah, it’s good. She’s a lovely little lass. Just don’t know how to be with kids.” “You’re doing good. Minus the swearing.”

“There’s going to be shooting stars tonight.” Ellie announced, holding her book up proudly. The wonders of Astrology were written in big golden letters on the front of the old blue fabric. You took it from her, reading from the page she had marked. “Indeed. Shall we ask your mum if you can stay up just a bit later so that we can see the stars together?” “Can we go to the beach?” “Sure.” “Can Alfie and Cyril come too?” “I… I can ask them to. You’ve got to stay with your mum this afternoon, yeah? She wants to spend some time with you since she’s feeling better. I’ll go look for Alfie and Cyril and let them know about tonight, alright?” “Yeah! Please!”  “Good. I’ll see you later then, dear.”

The walk to the beach was a quiet one, for once, your footsteps being the only sound. You reached the beach in no time, without stopping to greet everyone for an absurd amount of time. Adults were different. A simple “Hello” and they were on their way. Kids had all the time in the world, and they’d tell you about their favourite book, or how many worms they found in the garden, or what weird dream they had.  You spotted Cyril and Alfie and, before he spotted you, you could’ve sworn that Alfie was pacing around, looking for you and Ellie. You were late today, and maybe he thought you wouldn’t show up, but when he saw you he sat again, pretending not to notice you approaching them.  “‘Ello.” you teased, plopping down next to him, giggling when Cyril came over you to fill you with kisses.  “See, this is the kind of welcome I like, lots of kisses and cuddles, right Cyril? Your owner could learn a thing or two from you.”  His tail wagged quicker, but his owner grunted at your comment, shuffling away from you ever so slightly.  “Where’s the kid?” “Ellie’s home today. But she asked me to come and invite you and Cyril here tonight. We’re watching shooting stars. On the beach.”  He scratched his beard, looking ahead. You really hoped he’d come. You liked him more and more each day, and a small part of you wished that something more would come from this… friendship. “Right, I’ll come. But only ‘cause Ellie asked.”  “Sure.”  He looked at you to make sure you knew that he was joking, that you were the main reason why he wanted to come, but you had already started walking back home, your hand lifted in a wave. He cursed under his breath, scratching his beard again. “Women.” he muttered, shaking his head. 

The sky was covered in clouds, but you told Ellie that she could make a wish anyway, the stars were there, waiting for her. So she did. She wouldn’t tell you what she wished for, but she jumped happily afterwards, eying you and Alfie every few minutes. She played for a while, but eventually fell asleep on the small blanket you laid out for her, snuggling to Cyril while she dreamt. “We could make a wish.” You whispered, breaking the silence when you knew she had indeed fallen asleep, her snores loud enough to startle Cyril, at times. “Hmm?” “Shooting stars.”  You pointed up to the sky, attempting a smile. You knew that the grumpy man sitting next to you wouldn’t smile back, but you wouldn’t hide your own. He’d warm up to you, eventually.  “It’s fuckin’ cloudy, though, innit?”  “Yeah. But they’re there. Just ‘cause you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” He nodded, his eyes trailing up to the sky, glancing then at you, your eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed in concentration.  “The fuck are ya doing, lass?” You looked at him and laughed at his confusion.  “I’m making a wish!” “Well, that’s a dumb fuckin’ face to make. No one’ll grant you a wish like that.” “Did you make a wish?” “Don’t believe in wishes. What’s your wish?” “Ain’t telling. Won’t come true if not.” “I’ll tell ya what. You tell me yer wish, and I’ll wish for the same.” “That’s not how it works.” “I don’t believe in wishes, right, but you do, so two wishes are better than one, aye?” “Aye.” “Then tell me.”  “It’s…” You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t tell him that your wish had to do with him, and you, and more time spent together. Alone. You just couldn’t. So you made up the first thing you could think of. “I wish you would smile more.”  “I smile plenty.” “You’re a grumpy old man. You’ve never smiled for me.” “Never given me a reason to.” “Ah, fuck off. Let’s make my wish and go.”  You closed your eyes, feeling him looking at you, but you ignored it, nodding and standing up.  “All done.”  “Aye.” he confirmed, looking up to the sky once more.  “Good night, Alfie.”  He didn’t believe in wishes. Maybe you didn’t either, but something inside you gave you the courage to chase what you desired.  Why did men always have to be the ones taking the first step? If you had to wait for this one to realise where you stood, you’d both be long dead before he even asked you out. You leaned down, placing a quick kiss on his cheek, feeling his beard tickle you as you did so, before turning away and kneeling down, scooping Ellie up from the ground and wrapping her in the blanket.  He walked beside you, not saying a word, but taking Ellie from your arms, deeming it right to at least help you take her home. It was the least he could do.  Her mother opened the door, ushering you in and leading you upstairs so that you could place her in bed.  “I’ll come by tomorrow.” you whispered, covering Ellie as you spoke. “Thank you.” said her mother, walking you back down the stairs. She was feeling a lot better, rest and medicine helping her a lot, but she still wanted you around. You were kind, and Ellie loved you, and she couldn’t ask for a bigger help than what you were giving her.  Walking out of the door, you didn’t expect to see him still there. “You can go home, Alfie. I know the way to my place.” you joked, waving, but he was back by your side, still not talking, but always there.  You lived just behind the corner, so the walk was short, but you still enjoyed the extra time together.  “Good night, then.” you said again, looking for your keys.  He waited until you had opened the door to reach for your arm, stopping your entrance and coming higher up the steps to face you, his face inching closer to yours until he found the courage and kissed you, his hand cradling your cheek before falling back down, taking a step back. You stared at him, waiting, but he just smiled, offering a nod before walking away, following Cyril back to their home.

He turned one more, his smile still there. So your wish did come true. 

And maybe he didn’t believe in wishes, but his came true too.

[hansolmates]

busted in busan 

summary; you’re snowbound at the airport, when the only thing you want is to be homebound. your anxieties heighten as the snow rises, worried that you won’t make it in time for christmas where your fiancé and his parents expect you—picture perfect. when all flights are cancelled due to a massive storm, you have to turn to the hands of an unlikely, hard-headed hero who knows the fastest way out of busan (and into your heart) pairing; jungkook x (f) reader genre/warnings; a christmas detour!au, fluff, angst, slice of life, strangers to lovers, enemies to lovers, pining, this is a total romcom, hallmark movie galore! tw–microcheating (or not however you look at it) mentions of sex, making out, profanity w/c; 10k   a/n; for @suhdays​ holiday hallmark event! this event was totally up my lane, i couldn’t wait to post it! a huge thank u for @eerieedits​ for making this wonderful fic banner! this is totally unedited, i’ll to go back to it tonight but pls enjoy! for those of u who need a little more christmas charm this year, this is for u

if you loved this icy couple, please consider giving it a like n’share!⛄⛄⛄

“The Korean Air 1102 flight from Gimhae International Airport to Incheon International Airport will be delayed six hours due to the intense weather conditions. Please be on standby for any further updates.” 

You’re twitching, fighting the urge to nibble on your nails because you’ve just got them done for Christmas. They’re a sleek champagne gold, because your fiancé insisted that they’re far more mature than your usual red and brown reindeer art. This is awful, and is only going to get progressively worse as the snow builds and builds. Right now the weather isn’t that bad, the snow isn’t even sticking to the ground and—oh. 

Gnawing at your lip, your fingers brush over the cold window, a clear view of the landing strip you should currently be boarding. The touch is icy, and the pads of your fingers are enveloped in little rings of fog at the sudden warmth nudging the glass. Upon closer inspection and a squint of your eyes reveal that in fact, the snow is now sticking to the ground. Big, fat clumps are covering the freeway and destroying your Christmas plans. 

Your fiancé will understand if you’re a little late for their Christmas Eve party, but you’re not sure if his parents will. You’ve been on livewire all week, wanting to at least spend the morning of Christmas Eve with your family back home. Knowing that your fiancé’s Christmas Eve party would run until very late, you booked a noon flight with enough time to get ready and impress his parents. Evidently, it was an ill-prepared idea. 

Immediately falling into your terminal’s line, you hope that you can talk with the receptionist in hopes they could put you at ease. 

“How soon will you announce our flight’s departure?” A sad smile. 

“Is there any way you can put me on the next possible flight?” A shake of the head. 

“Will the weather let up?” A frown. 

Every bit of rejection weighs you down, and you’ve run out of questions to ask. For a receptionist, she’s not very receptive. 

“C’mon lady, you’re holding up the line,” a voice tugs you from behind, “you’re not the only one who’s gotta get down to the city on Christmas.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes, wanting to slap the rudeness off this man’s face. Instead of falling back in line, you move to the side to glare at him. He’s unfortunately attractive, albeit in a rugged sort-of way—nothing like your fiancé. The leather jacket that he carries tall is worn and crackly at the collar. Wavy dark hair he constantly has to hold back, a gesture that looks flirtatious and to your chagrin the receptionist is definitely recepting to him. 

“Your refund should be processed in about two to four business days, Mr. Jeon,” the receptionist murmurs, the simultaneously sultry and chirpy voice making you twitch in your spot. Maybe if you drank a cup of tall, dark and handsome you’d be getting the same kind of treatment. 

“Thanks,” he replies shortly, and it’s then you notice the extremely large luggage next to him. It’s the size of you, and despite the broad shoulders under the baggy jacket, he lugs it with careful force, making sure not to bump into anyone as he wheels it away from the counter. 

It seems that your trainers have a mind of your own as you follow him down the terminal. He side eyes you as your feet pick up the pace to match his long legs, but he waits for you to say something first. 

“Why did you ask for a refund?” you ask, frowning at him, “the flight is only delayed.” 

He scoffs, “Do you see the snow? They’re just saying it’s delayed so they can hold onto your money a little longer. Besides, it’s a win-win. I get my refund sooner and some other poor sap can take the ticket and wait until five in the morning.” 

“Five A.M.,” you exhale to yourself, slowing down. 

It would be too late by then, far too late. Your shoulders slump, people start to bump into you without a care. 

“Besides,” you hear his voice say from your stricken form, “I had a backup plan.” 

That’s when your feet start to burn up, and you whip around to pump your legs, catching up with the man who’s already far down the hall. “What kind of backup plan?” you blurt, raising your voice because the crowds are starting to get noisier and deeper the further you follow him. 

He hooks his lips into a confused frown, “You’re awfully nosy.” 

“I’m in a pinch, my fiancé’s parents will kill me if I don’t show up to their party tonight.” 

“Your fiancé’s parents… will kill you?” 

“That’s an exaggeration,” you cough, immediately feeling self-conscious, “they’d kill me with their eyes. They’re really big, really pretty corporate people. They have high expectations for their future in-law.” 

“Ah, and you're the country pumpkin who managed to sweep the rich guy off his feet?” 

“Something like that,” you reply, rocking on your heels, “my dad was his dad’s former secretary, and we grew up together.” 

The stranger with a plan stops in front of a long line. It’s so long that you’re not entirely sure where it leads to. People are piling out the door two at a time, and you can see they’re trying to get through the process as fast as possible. The window leading outside is blurry and caked in white ice. He hooks one leg over his luggage, the metal and plastic case is so high that his feet barely touch the ground. Like a kid with a flat scooter, he wheels himself through the line. 

“These lines are for busses going in the direction of our flight,” he jabs a finger out the door, “if the flight got cancelled I was just going to ride one of these,” out of his pocket he pulls out two tickets, flicking it in front of your face.

“Are there any tickets left?” your eyes bug, and you immediately pull out your phone to reserve a spot. 

“Nah, been booked since last month.” 

It’s then that your eyes zero in on the second ticket he has in hand. Both tickets are addressed to the same name. You lower your phone in your pocket, narrowing your eyes. “Why do you have two for yourself?” 

He pats his luggage as a response. 

“That’s not fair!” 

“It is when you buy it, sweetheart.” 

“A literal human could be in that spot, wanting to go home for Christmas!”

“You’re just salty you don’t have a ticket, don’t take it out on my luggage,” he feigns a pout, rubbing the handle of the heavy container, “you’re hurting it’s feelings.” 

It doesn’t take long for you and the stranger to reach the end of the line. To others in line the two of you look like two companions bickering good-naturedly, but in reality the only thing you want to do is slap that smug smile off his face. 

“You want my ticket,” he states. 

“I want your luggage’s ticket,” you bite back, staring petulantly at where he sits comfortably between the handle. 

Unbeknownst to you, the man’s face morphs into a teasing grin upon seeing you glare a little too hard at the silver and black case. It just so happens that your eyes gravitate to the middle of the luggage, at the apex between his long legs leading up to a pair of black sweats. Despite the soft, baggy fabric you can see how the bulge of his thighs outline the thin cotton, looking large and inviting which—

Fuck. You’re engaged. Why are you checking out some stranger’s thighs? Your fiancé also has nice thighs, think about those! 

“How much do you want for it?” you cough, crossing your arms and turning to the side to hide your flaming cheeks. 

“Who said I was offering?” 

“I’ll pay that and then some.”

“With your rich-boy’s money?” 

If your hands were not digging into your elbows and you weren’t so concerned about your gold-foiled manicure, you’d deck him. Do the holidays normally make this person so snappy? He simply flips his hair, and you catch the shaved ends of his sides. 

“Three-hundred,” he says easily, and if he notices you staring he doesn’t say anything, “including any extra fees for my luggage.”

“Done,” you hold out your hand for him to shake. 

“I’m Jungkook, if you care,” the man named Jungkook adds wryly, practically swallowing your small hand with his larger one. You shortly reply with your name, and he merely nods, “a thank you would suffice.” 

“Thanks,” and it’s then that you manage a scarily pretty smile, one that Jungkook finds both alarming and amusing. It’s a catered smile, one that you’ve trained yourself to accomplish after hours in the mirror in fear of your fiancé’s parents seeing right through you. It’s the smile you give during work when you don’t give a shit but you need to suck it up. It’s a 9/10 success rate. 

“Scary,” he shivers, and then you realize he’s the 1/10. 

The only bus for you two to pile on is one of the smallest. Probably half the size of a regular coach bus, but at this rate you don’t care. You’ll fly by hot air balloon if the weather wasn’t so crappy. 

“Taehyung!” you startle at Jungkook’s sudden belt, and he does a big, beefy-chested bro-hug to the driver. Ah, so he has connections. You watch the two interact from your corner, pulling up your hood to stop the rapidfire snowflakes from pelting your eyes. 

The driver is a classically handsome thing, dark eyes and dark fluffy hair. His paperbag pants look absolutely frigid however, and his teeth are chattering as he regards Jungkook with annoyed eyes. 

“Listen, so plans have changed—”

“As always, Kook.” 

“—and I need you to do me another solid. Do you have room in the compartment for my babies?” 

“The answer is, and always no. That’s why you bought two tickets.” 

“I know but,” he gestures to you with a jab of his thumb, “like I said, plans have changed.” 

“Jungkook,” Taehyung frowns, “trying to do some Christmas miracles? In this snowstorm?” Taehyung shakes his head, eyes flickering to the running bus. Most of the ticket holders are already on it. “I can save you two a three-seater, but there’s no room in the compartment. It’ll be a tight fight but—” 

“It’s perfect. You’re dynamite, Tae,” Jungkook even has the audacity to reach his hands out and squish the driver’s cheeks, much to his distain. 

The two of you are ushered quickly into the bus, leaving you in the very front diagonal to where Taehyung is sitting. The three seats are tiny, it probably barely fits Jungkook’s thighs with the large luggage nestled in the other two seats. The two of you suggest to put the luggage out in the aisle and take turns holding it, but Taehyung interjects that the luggage is a fire hazard. 

“But not a human,” Jungkook decides, and he gestures for you to sit down in the available seat. You’re practically shoved against the window as Jungkook manages to squeeze his gargantuan luggage in the other two seats. He’s tall enough to grab the metal rungs of the bus, steeling himself in the middle of the aisle.

Taehyung doesn’t fight with that, and finally puts the bus into drive. Pulling out of the airport feels akin to leaving the eye of the storm. It’s going to be a long journey, and it makes you worry as to whether you’re going to make it on time or not. 

Your favorite pastime is watching the window on a long car ride, especially when the snowflakes crystalize and melt away through the warmth of the vehicle. However, you’re irked. You thought Jungkook was a bit of a wank, a little too full of himself and far too mysterious for your own good. 

Exhibit A, the luggage that’s currently threatening to wheel over and crush you against the glass. You wonder what’s so special about this luggage that Jungkook so desperately wants to protect, even so far as to buy its own seat. Sneakily, you lean over to smell the zipper. Surprisingly, it smells a little vinegary, the fumes getting you a little lightheaded within seconds. Your eyes dart to Jungkook, who’s currently engaged in conversation with Taehyung. You tilt your head and sniff again, confirming the slightly rancid smell. 

It’s then you take in Jungkook’s form once more. He dresses a little schlubby, his clothes are old, his eyes are sunken in, and his luggage is filled with weird-smelling things. 

Oh no. Is Jungkook a drug dealer? 

Your fiancé’s parents would surely have a fit if this man gets arrested and you come up in the report as an accused accomplice. It makes sense, he would want to make sure that his goods are in his view at all times, and it explains why he so easily gave you his ticket for triple the actual price. 

A giggle interrupts your thoughts. Yes, a tired, yet bubbly giggle. Jungkook’s face is pressed against his bicep, and you catch the fluttering of his eyes as he tries to keep up with Taehyung’s rambling. His grip is starting to loosen on the metal bars, and you’re worried that he might accidentally slip, or not hold tight enough in the event the car takes a sharp turn or slips on black ice. 

“J-Jungkook,” it’s the first time you’re saying his name out loud, tasting it on your tongue as you regard him steadily, “why don’t we take turns sitting? I don’t mind standing for an hour while you sleep.” 

He regards you with a sleepy smirk, shaking his head against the fabric of his jacket. “You’ll be flung in two seconds, besides can you even reach the handles?” 

Good point, but Jungkook is far more muscular and if he does end up flying he’ll crash through the window and further hinder your commute. It’s why you choose your next words carefully, and you convince yourself it’s the only reason as to why you propose your solution. 

“I’ll sit on your lap,” and since it sounds super weird coming out of your mouth, you tack on, “I’ll put your jacket over your lap as a barrier.” 

He slacks, regarding you with a scrunched face. “Is the jacket supposed to make that situation any better? I’m fine standing like this.” 

“This ride is going to take hours and you’re barely on your own two feet,” your point is made when the bus topples over a speed bump, and Jungkook looks awfully small as he moves to grapple the top bar with both hands, “my fiancé doesn’t get jealous, I’ve sat in plenty of friend’s laps before.” 

“We’re not friends,” he blurts with a raise of his brows.

“Yes, I know that,” you’re a little insulted by the curt reply, but he still looks rather horrified that you’re proposing the following, “I don’t like it either, but I’m sitting in your seat and now I’m feeling guilty as hell.” 

It’s a lot of shuffling and shifting after that. You try not to laugh as Jungkook rips off his leather jacket, folding it into a perfect square, ironing out the corners of the crinkly fabric as he gestures for you to take a seat. You try not to take note of how sturdy his thighs are, or how the muscle stretches across the seat so well that there’s no way for you to fall between the cracks. 

“You’re going to sleep anyway,” you try to assure him, side eying him as he presses his forehead against the window, “it’ll be like being with a dead body.” 

“Didn’t know you were into necrophilia, but whatever floats your boat,” Jungkook mumbles, eyes immediately fluttering shut. 

At first it was easy, ignoring the fact that you’re sitting on top of a human. The drive seems endless however, Taehyung driving further and further into a sea of white ice. You force yourself to thread your fingers together, sitting on the very edge of his knees with your back ramrod straight. Eventually, you tire out and relax against Jungkook’s lax body. Your face is centimeters away from Jungkook’s. Long, dark lashes, and a strand of equally dark hair falls in front of his eyes. His cheeks are flushed from the blaring heater, and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in. 

Hm, for a drug dealer, he smells pretty. 

Despite the weird-smelling luggage that looms over the two of you, the white long-sleeved shirt he wears is soft to the touch and smells fresh. 

You huff, and shift in your seat. 

“Stop,” Jungkook mumbles into your shoulder, and you don’t have the heart to look at him. 

“I’m sorry, it’s cramped,” you reply. 

“I get that, but you don’t have to—hike yourself so far up here,” he sounds almost embarrassed saying it, and his hand shuffles to adjust his belt. “Literally can’t sleep because you’re making me pop a boner.” 

“Why, I’m engaged!” 

“God, I know. It’s like your personality trait or something,” Jungkook retorts, “just because you’re engaged doesn’t stop my body from reacting. I’m sure your fiancé has reacted like this, stop acting like a blushing virgin.” 

You tense, your eyes glued to the window in front of you. How do you even make a comeback to that? Wringing your hands in your lap, you feel your palms sweat with nerves the longer it takes for you to reply. This causes the gears to run in Jungkook’s mind. 

“Holy fuck, have you two not—” 

“Shut up,” you hiss, turning your body around to slap him in the chest, “shut up shut upupupshutup!” 

You make seething, burning eye contact with Jungkook. You expect him to have a shit-eating grin on his face, teasing you for your relationship. Instead, Jungkook is wide-eyed, mouth parted open like a confused guppy and his big bug-eyes looking stricken. He says nothing. 

The road starts to get bumpier, and the drive swerves from time to time to avoid black ice. Neither of you are relaxed. Combined with the heart of the storm, your heart is currently wrung on electrical wire, pumping blood with a fervor you cannot stifle. 

“I’m going to put my arms around your waist,” Jungkook murmurs softly, and you lift your arms slightly to see him lace his fingers over your belly button. “Like a seatbelt.” 

You sigh, relaxing in his hold. Now it’s awkward. He feels compelled to hold you to keep you safe, even though he clearly finds it awkward you’ve already put him in this position. 

Jungkook isn’t so bad, you think as you let your gaze linger on his hands. They anchor you to his lap, making sure you’re not jostling during the ride. He may have a razor sharp tongue and gets under your nerves just for the heck of it, but he’s kind of nice. Under the prickly leather jacket, there’s a softness to him you can’t help but gravitate to. 

It’s dark outside, save for the speedily descending flakes and the dim lights of the highway. You’re sitting on the lap of a total stranger, yet it’s a stranger who’s holding your waist like he’s a seatbelt, a stranger who’s making you feel safe to say the words that have been haunting you for the past few months. 

“I’ve tried to initiate sex,” you finally say. “I don’t know why he doesn’t want me, it’s already been two years.” 

Your eyes turn red with bloody horror. Your vision blurred by the insanity of what you’ve just blurted out to this surprisingly kind stranger who’s offered his seat (both times) to you. 

“I didn’t mean to word vomit like that. Forget I said anything—” 

“Must be his loss,” Jungkook cuts you off, and when he says it doesn’t feel impolite at all. However, Jungkook doesn’t continue on, doesn’t give you rhyme or reason, just lets you linger on his reply like a madwoman. 

Maybe it’s because you’re so touch starved, maybe you’re just seeing things, but for some reason Jungkook’s fingers feel more apparent against the seam of your jacket. They tighten a fraction, drum around the metal zipper that holds the thick fabric together. Your palms feel like a fountain, and you try to ignore the burn between your legs, the liquid heat betraying the commitment that sits on your finger. 

You’re engaged to be married, you chastise yourself. All eighteen carats that symbolize that bond glare at you, bright and eager to make you feel guilty. The whole reason why you’re on this cramped bus ride is to get to your soon-to-be husband. Some pretty stranger with strong hands won’t change that. 

“We’re here! Finally!” Taehyung cheers, and you realize now that you’re parked into a tunnel surrounded by other buses. 

Jungkook and you wait until everyone steps off the bus. The pads of Jungkook’s fingers play an unsung tune, absentmindedly drumming to a song you can’t put your mind to. 

“God, you can’t just pay the extra money for someone to take care of this?” Taehyung hauls the large luggage in the aisle seat, and you feel like you’re being revealed under a curtain, doing something you’re not supposed to be doing. 

You hop off his lap, scoop your backpack in your arm and scramble off the bus. The cold, winter air bites into every available pore in your body, replacing the warmth that Jungkook gave in the tiny bus. You hike the collar of your oversized turtleneck higher up your chin, prickling in shivers as you wait for Jungkook. 

“I don’t remember Seoul being this, empty,” you say to yourself, frowning at the lack of humans past the bus station. You peer curiously at the dark, dark road off the terminal. There’s no flicker of light, or a skyline filled with bustling sounds and flickering head beams. 

“That’s because we’re only halfway there,” Jungkook walks past you, luggage in tow. 

“What?” you pull out your phone, it’s already 4PM and it’s pitch dark outside. 

The snow is beating down as you two speed walk out of the hangar, reaching a nearly vacant parking lot save for a pure white minivan. You barely notice the vehicle with all the snow, blending in perfectly as wave after wave of ice beats down on it. The pops of rust by the tires, gaudy orange stripes is the only thing you can focus on as you try to make it to the car as fast as possible. 

“Get in and start the car,” Jungkook practically shoves the keys in your hands, gesturing for you to take the passenger seat. 

When you enter his car, you’re hit with a scent scarily identical to the one in Jungkook’s luggage. You nearly gag when you inhale too much, and your eyes flicker over to the lemon air freshener attached to the exhaust, trying its best to mask the smell. You vaguely remember all the warning stories your parents told you as a kid—never enter the white van. 

Ohmygod, you’re in a white van and all of Jungkook’s drugs are in the back. 

You shake your head, willing the car to start as you arch your back over the console to start it up. You’ve been around your fiancé’s parents too long, letting them fill your head with judgemental gab and crazy assumptions only rich people have about people lesser than them. 

Once the car spurs to life, soft holiday music plays from a pop station. The front window of the car is absolutely covered in snow, you can’t even budge the windshield wipers to scrape the layer of ice off. 

Suddenly, a blanket of ice slides off the window, swept to the concrete. You’re met with Jungkook’s toothy smile and horror-esque stare, and you have this jerk reaction to nervously laugh and jump in your seat. Your nails dig into the cheap fabric of your seat as Jungkook’s scary expression melts into a more softened one, as if happy to have gotten you to laugh in such sucky times. Jungkook continues to brush your windows, meticulously making sure no ice can cause any damage as you two go into the night. 

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Jungkook whips the door open, throwing the snow brush at the space between your feet. 

As soon as he shuts the door, your stomachs growl simultaneously. 

The two of you break into a quick laugh, giggles that overlap the twinkly holiday chimes and the packed snow crunching under Jungkook’s boots. 

“After McDonalds,” Jungkook declares, setting up the GPS for a quick pitstop to the nearest fast food joint. 

Ten minutes into the drive, you pull into a generic food joint, too starved to find gourmet McDonalds. You make it a point to flick your card and lean over his body to meet the cashier, telling him you’re spotting the meal. Jungkook doesn’t complain, and tells the cashier to add in a vanilla sundae for good measure. 

Color yourself impressed, but you can’t help but gawk as Jungkook expertly sets up his food on the dashboard like a five-star meal, with fries in the cupholder and a burger unwrapped perfectly to catch any spills and to keep his fingers from getting greased up. For such a terrible snowstorm, he pulls out of the joint gracefully, a brief intermission in your long journey. 

“So, is my fiancé’s place far from where you need to be?” 

Jungkook shrugs, a stray fry hanging from his mouth. “It’s not far, not close either. I don’t mind, I like driving.” 

“Do you drive around a lot?” 

“Yeah, for work. It’s a little annoying that I have to spend Christmas alone, but it is what it is.” 

Pausing on your speculation, you take a big bite of your burger. You were hoping that your conversation would spur on a little more detail about his drug-esque job. However, all you start to feel is the heaviness of your fast food meal, stemming from your chest and filling your grease-filled stomach. 

“You’re spending Christmas alone?” you say, and you don’t mean to sound so sad saying it, but the thought of him being alone tonight makes you feel pinched with pain. 

“I can practically feel your puppy-eyes,” Jungkook shakes his head, not even needing to look at you as he focuses on the road. “I’m fine, don’t you worry.” 

“Do you wanna come to the party?” you offer, trying to sound as neutral as possible as you throw the suggestion on the dash.

“Not my thing,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, “with my line of work, I prefer to lay low.” 

Trying not to feel a hurt by the sudden (but expected) rejection, you practically eat your burger whole, eyes glaring on the road. You surmise it’s a valid excuse, drug dealers aren’t exactly one for highly-populated areas and with your fiancé’s reputation, you’re sure his parents would smell Jungkook’s reputation in a micro-minute. 

The drive isn’t anything special. You’re sure if it were spring, the foliage would be pretty and the sun would be setting into melty orange hues by now. It’s all black and white, boring shades that are aggressively pelting at the van and hindering your evening. 

“So, what other character traits do you have?” Jungkook cuts through your semi-brooding, as easily as one slices through butter, “other than the obvious that you’re engaged, and that you’re getting married. And oh yeah, you have a fiancé!” 

You scoff at his cheesy joke, folding your arms together. “I like spending time with my family. Watching movies under a weighted blanket. Plants.” 

His stare dips away from the road for a fraction, enough for you to catch that he’s rolling his eyes, “Fascinating. Not a plant person myself. I like those cute little succulents though. Had a bunch of those in college.” 

“I am also a ramen connoisseur,” you say pointedly, turning up your nose. 

“Ah, are you?” you smile a little when you see Jungkook’s eyes light up at the mention of food, “what’s the criteria for good ramen?” 

“Deep, creamy broth. Also, the egg. Gotta look like a custard-y, eggy sunset. It’s just,” you smack your lips together, mimicking a chef’s kiss, “perfect.” 

He chuckles, and goes on to tell you a story about a ramen shop he’s visited on his travels. It’s one he declares that you need to visit, one he still dreams about often. It takes a ferry and it’s a bit of a trek, but he says it’s worth it, and the eggs are as custard-y and sunset-y as you’d like. 

It’s between pockets of his story and pulling yourself out of this little bubble of a van you realize:  are you flirting with Jungkook? 

The longer this trip goes, the more your stares linger. They linger like the snow that sticks to the ground, unable to do nothing but cling. Layer after layer of confusing feelings, building up to a blizzard that you’re unable to quell. 

“So, your family’s also going to be at your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook asks, poking at yet another one of your personal facets. He’s being blatantly nosy, yet neither of you seem to mind. 

“Oh, no,” you shove your hands in your pockets, “they wanted to stay back in our hometown with the extended family. Y’know, the older members can’t really travel as much as they used to.” 

“Ah, so you’re splitting up your time,” Jungkook drums his hands on the wheel, eyes drooped slightly as he continues along the monotonous road, “your fiancé couldn’t make it?” 

“Couldn’t,” you reply lightly, “just, y’know, work.” 

“Been there, done that,” Jungkook replies, “I’m sure he missed out though. What’s your family like? Are they the type to bake cookies until 3 A.M.? Oh, or do they get wine drunk and talk shit about their annoying cousins—” 

“Jungkook,” the words fly out of your mouth before you can even think, “I’m engaged.” 

The weight of your words holds differently now. A whole day has passed with this man, and you’ve developed an attachment that simultaneously scares and thrills you. Not an hour goes by that you have to think to yourself that you’re taken, to the point that you can’t even tell what’s in your head and what’s being spoken out in the air. 

Instead of a snippy comment, a snarky retort of, “I know, I know!” like you anticipate, Jungkook stops the car. 

There’s no human trace for miles, so it doesn’t scare you when he slows down and pulls off to the side. He gears the car into park, roughly pulling the handle. He lays his arm over the steering wheel, turning his body so he can face you fully. The heat in the car suddenly feels too cloying, and you shrink in the seat as he leans in on you. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” he asks, and from the looks of it, he’s genuinely hurt. 

“I—Jungkook,” you plant your feet on the ground, trying to find some power in this situation, “I mean I, we—you just can’t keep doing this.” 

“Do you feel like I’m trying to steal you away? Or, seduce you or something?” Jungkook is starting to talk himself into a stupor, eyes flickering from the window, to you, to behind you, and back to you. It’s almost jarring, seeing how self-conscious he starts to get without the presence of an audience. Gone is the smooth talker that you met at the terminal, willing to haggle it all for your cash. “Are you uncomfortable? Is it weird I have a crush on you?” 

“Wait, you have a crush on me?” 

He reels back, nearly pressing his head against the window. Jungkook runs a hand through his hair, exhaling deep from his lungs. “Adults still get crushes, y’know.” 

“Yeah, but not to people you met eight hours ago.” 

Jungkook arches a brow, “People fall for people in the most unlikely of ways.” 

That singular statement hits you, hard. 

Jungkook looks like he wants to get out of the van. He seems stuffy, and he unzips his coat and shoves it under his legs. 

“You’re cute,” he echoes the statement like he can’t believe that in a short amount of time, he’s attached to you, “you seem to have good taste, you love family, and your personality isn’t half bad,” the last bit is meant to be teasing, a lighthearted way to end his bout of emotion, but it only makes you ache further, “And it makes me upset knowing that you have to keep convincing yourself that you’re in a relationship that isn’t as fulfilling as you hope. This whole drive, you’ve been anxious about going to his parents, worrying that you’re not going to make it on time instead of relaxing with your family. Where you actually want to be.” 

“I also want to be with Jimin,” you say weakly, a half-hearted attempt to defend yourself. 

You never mentioned your fiancé’s name until this point. It makes Jungkook stiffen a little, finally putting a name to the man that’s supposed to have your heart. It makes the relationship concrete, palpable. 

“I’m sure you do,” Jungkook smacks his lips, evidently sealing the conversation to suffocate under the snow. 

Jungkook puts the car into drive, sliding back into your current route. 

“And to answer your question, Jungkook. No, you having a crush on me is not weird,” and smaller, quieter, you reply, “because it’s weird that I might have a crush on you, too.”

You know that Jungkook catches your statement, because he cranks the volume of the radio harder, effectively shutting you out.  

The first thing Jungkook says when you finally reach the Park’s house is: “Wow.” 

His van looks completely out of place, parked on the side as limos and Escalades drop off more and more people into the large estate. It’s pouring with elegant piano music, and the large window in the middle of their home reveals a century-old chandelier, crystals beaming and winking against the hundreds of guests that lie underneath. 

The rest of the way driving was almost painfully fast. After that awkward wave of emotion, neither of you said anything. Well, you didn’t at least. Jungkook attempted to clear the air by singing along to the Christmas songs on the radio, but it only further attracted you because to your chagrin—Jungkook’s a pretty good singer. 

The estate isn’t in Seoul persay, it’s a sizable plot of land that definitely comes from old money. It’s decked up like the North Pole, lit up and tiny crystal lines dotting the expanse of the rooftops. The snow certainly adds to it, and many guests are outside taking pictures of the picture-perfect holiday show. The blizzard has finally subsided, leaving a clean blanket of snow across their yard.

You scoff to yourself. What they find to be a Christmas miracle only derailed yours. 

Jungkook stares at you while you send a quick text to Jimin. You tell him he needs to come fast, because you don’t want his parents to see you all sweaty and dressed like you’ve been traveling for hours. 

“Oh, uh,” you finally take a look at him, and you immediately regret it because you’re getting sucked into his gaze, “I think you put my bag in the trunk?” 

“Right,” he shakes his head, “follow me.” 

He tilts his head down when he’s outside, as if the snow’s going to start back up and drown him. Your thumb scratches the ring on your finger as you hop out of the van, effectively popping the bubble the two of you have been sealed in for the better half of the evening. Is this going to be it? Is the last you’ll see of Jeon Jungkook? 

All those thoughts evaporate when Jungkook opens the trunk. 

There’s no drugs. 

In fact, you don’t even know what to think. The van is absolutely filled, wall-to-wall art supplies and canvas carefully lined up like Tetris blocks to avoid damage. The floor of the van seems to receive the brunt of the messes, and you catch recent paint stains and spray cans stacked to the side. It explains the smell. 

There’s some clear cases in a corner, protecting completed prints that are already framed. Your eyes cling to a vibrant hyacinth, coral and satin blue petals bunching in the middle of a black background. It’s absolutely gorgeous, if it wasn’t for all the paint lying around, you’d think it’s real. 

Jungkook’s an artist. 

“Holy shit, I thought you were a drug dealer,” you blurt, and you want to smack yourself in the face. 

 “Excuse me?” Jungkook jerks his head towards you, “did you think I was a drug dealer this whole time?” 

“N-no,” you frown petulantly, letting Jungkook loop your arms through the straps of your backpack. “Maybe. You were very shady.” 

He laughs, a genuine laugh. It confuses you, the way he tucks his hands in his pockets and bends his back over to look up at you through his dark lashes. It’s like nothing’s wrong, like he’s trying to erase the past eight hours and leave with no qualms. You don’t know if that comforts you or terrifies you. 

“So, you were willing to let a potentially dangerous man be your travel partner for eight hours so you can make it to your fiancé’s party?” Jungkook’s eyes flicker over to the front door, “you must really love him.” 

“I do,” you say the phrase like it’s second nature. Rehearsed. Practiced. 

“Merry Christmas,” Jungkook pulls out his hand, and you don’t hesitate to grasp it. 

Liquid heat sparks through your skin, one that tingles from where his large palm encases yours, all the way to your heart. 

“Merry Christmas,” you echo, and your feet feel like lead as you back away from him. 

Jungkook waits until you go inside the house, even though the valet is side eyeing him and mentally telling him to leave already. Turning your back to him is rough, like you’re without snowshoes and you’re trudging through snow. 

The goodbye feels rushed. Your heart is cold and heavy. Unfortunately, by the time you realize you haven’t paid Jungkook for his bus ticket and the ride, it’s too late. Jimin has already pulled you in his awaiting arms, and Jungkook has peeled out of the driveway. 

“You look awful,” Jimin coddles you, dusting the invisible dirt off your jacket. You know Jimin means well by the statement, but you can’t help but feel a little unsupported by his words. You did all you could to make it to Jimin in time for this party full of faceless, nameless people. And yet, Jimin inadvertently manages to put you down for finally making it. 

The hallway is relatively empty, save for one staff member who cleans the wet linoleum floors whenever someone with snow steps in. You can easily make out where the heart of the party is, the tinkly holiday music playing from the speakers, along with all the bodies huddled by the extra large Christmas tree that is brimming with presents. 

You do feel like a wet noodle, in comparison to Jimin and Namjoon’s complementary pinstripe suits. Jimin’s deep burgundy suit pops in the endless hallway of marble and light wood as he quickly leads you upstairs to a spare room for you to change. Namjoon’s more muted grey still looks stunning on him, cutting his tall figure nicely. You think it’s cute that Jimin made an effort to match with his assistant, not making him feel out of place in this big party. 

“I hope you don’t mind,” Namjoon interjects softly, gesturing to the garment bag hanging on the boudoir, “I picked out your dress.” 

“I’m sure whatever you bought is beautiful,” you assure softly, stepping fully into the room. It’s an extra bedroom, you’re assuming it might be yours. 

“We’ll give you some time to freshen up and get ready,” Jimin squeezes your arm, a touch you can barely feel due to the puffiness of your down jacket. It’s just an awkward escape of air to you, a sssttt that you catch Namjoon hiding his smile for, “we’ll walk around a bit and bring you some food.” 

“I want cupcakes,” you blurt impulsively, and the two of them laugh on their way out the door. 

Once you’re finally alone, you strip yourself bare. Jacket, shirt, socks, underwear. You make quick work of taking a hot, damp towel to wash your arms and legs, scrubbing your face of any oil and dirt from the day. You wrap yourself in an indulgent fluffy robe, the plush material comforting you as you flop on the bed. 

It’s been a day. 

You take a five minute cat nap, the weight of the day taking its toll on you. When you finally flutter your eyes open however, you see him. 

It’s not exactly him, it’s his art. It’s mounted right atop the headboard, a large blown up painting of a tiger lily. The orange and gold flecks flicker and go perfectly with the decor of the room. The piece is longing, aching for you to go back to two hours ago when you could’ve phrased your words better, balm the situation into something to salvage. This must be a sign, you think. Upon closer look, you see the signature Jeon JK etched in silver in the corner. Who knew the Parks were buying Jeon Jungkook’s work, the world is smaller than you’d originally thought. 

It ignites you. You rip the zipper of the garment bag, pulling on the slinky glittery gold dress Namjoon picked out for you. It’s gorgeous, and you don’t know how he managed to find your proportions, but you figure an assistant of his caliber has access to many things. You don’t have much time, so you slap on some light makeup and swipe some highlights across your eyes. By the time Jimin returns, you’re pulling your hair up and out of your face. 

Jimin walks to the bed with a pretty red velvet cupcake, “You look beautiful,” he says immediately, and you follow to sit with him at the foot of the bed. 

You don’t hesitate to grab the cupcake from his tea plate, nearly shoving it in your mouth. You definitely need a rush, something to curb you over for the plans you have tonight. “Sugar sugar,” you chant like a mantra, and you don’t care that your lipgloss is smudged and crumbs cling to your cheeks. 

Jimin just rubs circles onto your thigh, letting you eat and relax. He knows you’re not a fan of these kinds of parties, preferring to wallflower it, preferably at  a wall closest to the buffet. His touch is comforting, and you chew slower in order to prolong the inevitable. It takes a beat for you to finish your cupcake. 

“I need to talk to you,” the two of you blurt at the same time, and you point and giggle at each other like you’re still five year olds tinkering in the sandbox. 

Jimin pouts, “Can I go first? Mine’s kind of important.” 

“Mine’s also really important,” you don’t mean to invalidate Jimin, but you really need to get this out. “I might explode if I don’t say this now.” 

The blonde scrunches his nose, obviously weak to your unusual distress, “I guess I wouldn’t want that.” 

You clutch his hand, the hand that holds the plain wedding band he picked out for himself two years ago. Your eyes flicker to how your ring kisses his, “Jimin. I love you, like really love you. I can’t imagine my life without you, you’ve been my best friend since we could crawl. But as I traveled down here, I realized that even though I love you, I think I’m not in love,” you wince at how cheesy that sounds, “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not good enough, but the whole trip down here made me realize I don’t think I can commit to this.” 

“Oh, thank fuck,” you gasp, watching relief wash over Jimin’s features. You’re not even done with your whole spiel and he’s already unbuttoning his blouse, “this makes what I’m about to say a whole lot easier.” 

“Jimin,” you trail off, squeezing his palm, “what do you mean?” 

“I mean, I think I’m in love.” 

Your jaw slackens slightly, seeing the sweat that lines Jimin’s slicked back hair. He must’ve been thinking about this all night, waiting for you to tell you this. Your chest aches, weighing in on all the sudden facts. “Who is it?” you ask. 

Jimin shrugs, “The man who does my taxes and makes sure I sleep at least seven hours a night.” 

“Namjoon,” you conclude, eyes moving to the sealed door. You think Namjoon is waiting out there right now, silently supporting you two as you go through this. Of course, Jimin’s parents would be livid if anything would tarnish his reputation. A broken engagement would be sticky to cover up, and Jimin falling for his assistant is a headline right for the books. 

“I’m sorry,” Jimin whispers, despite the room being vacant he feels the need to keep his words short, “You came all this way to hear this. But I guess we’re on the same page, huh?” His soft fingers make a beeline for your ring finger, removing the diamond band, “And by the way, I love you too. Which is why we’re going to come clean in the morning and work this out with my parents, together. I’m sorry if you felt obligated to follow me all this time just because our parents did.” 

“Hey, like you said, we’re in this together. Both in and out,” you chastise, pulling your engagement ring from his grasp and holding it to the light. “Can I keep this? Instead of an engagement band, it can be our best friend band. I’ll even get it re-sized so it can go on another finger.” 

Jimin pulls you into his arms, crushing you. The silky material of your dress bunches and rides, but you don’t care. The two of  you can’t help but be a little crybaby-ish about it, feeling much like your younger-selves when you had to pull each other out of trouble. 

The two of you walk out of the bedroom hand-in-hand, and Namjoon is leaning against the banister in the hallway, a soft smile melting on his tanned skin. 

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, hugging Namjoon tightly. You’ve only known the man for a few months, but you can tell he’s taking care of Jimin and that’s enough for you. 

“I… really thought you’d be more upset.” Namjoon marvels, patting your back. 

Jimin interjects, “I think she’s found someone hotter than me.” 

“Impossible!” 

You could stay at this party, lay low until you and Jimin have to confront his parents in the morning. They suggest to get all the food they need and sneak out to the home theatre. The three of you hustle it down the stairs to another part of the house, in order for you to make your getaway and avoid Jimin’s family. 

“Hey,” you stop in front of another painting, pulling the two men to a stop. Your eyes lock on a framed droopy peony, tipped with pink dye. You realize you can’t stay here, not when someone’s home alone tonight. “Namjoon, I need you to locate someone for me.” 

Jungkook does not expect to see you at his front door. 

You’re stunning, and look as breathless as he feels. The liquid champagne number that hugs your frame does things to him, and he’s strangely attracted to the fact that you paired this expensive dress with your snow-drenched trainers. 

You showing up at the wee hours of the morning was the last thing Jungkook thought would happen. It’s nothing short of a holiday event, you look like you’ve just walked out of a gala and then ran a marathon to reach him. 

He thought when he said goodbye, it would be the last time you’d cross paths. At first, he was okay with that. After all, feelings come and go, and spontaneity only works a percentage of the time. Seeing you presently however, throws all those half-hearted concedings out the window. 

“Hi,” you finally say, drinking from the fact that you actually found him. 

“Hey,” Jungkook breathes, “you look, beautiful.” 

“Thanks,” you smile. 

“So, is this about you not paying me back for the ticket?” Jungkook suddenly feels guilty, having dipped out of Jimin’s manor once he saw him appear at the door. It was unrightful jealousy, and because of that he needed to drive away as fast as possible. “Because honestly, it was me messing with you. I really don’t need the money.” 

“I figured, from the fact that I had to take the elevator up to the penthouse of the building.” 

“So then why are you here?” Jungkook wobbles on the balls of his feet, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“My ex-fiancé is in love with someone else,” you lay your cards out just like that, and Jungkook’s unprepared to deal.  

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry—” 

“Let me finish,” you cut in gently, “my ex-fiancé is in love with someone else, and that’s okay. We’ve been best friends since we were little, and we want nothing but happiness for each other. And for me? Happiness is right in front of me.” 

You bite your lip, and Jungkook fights down the urge to run up and pull you into his arms. You must be so cold, running out without a jacket and rushing to his home. However, he lets you finish, and he holds himself down by clutching the door frame as casually as possible. 

“I also have a big, fat crush on you,” you say boldly, “and I had to tell you as soon as I could. It took a twenty-minute phone call and some serious leverage from Jimin’s company to figure out where you lived. That receptionist is definitely not letting me use my frequent flyer miles next flight.” 

“You harassed an airport receptionist just for me?” he smiles wanly, placing a hand on his chest, “I’m touched.” 

“You make me excited to try new things, to be spontaneous and do things for myself,” with every statement you take a step further, and soon enough you’re in his dimly lit apartment. The plush couch in his living room looks awfully warm and comfy, and the light music that plays from his speakers is soft and soothing. “So, let’s spend the holidays together and see where this goes. And go to your art gallery tomorrow, because I did research you on the drive and found out you had to rush here because of a big show.” 

“So you’re actually a stalker?” Jungkook teases, tugging you over to the couch. 

He takes the lead, plopping himself on the couch first and inviting you to sit next to him. You take a detour and plant your body atop of him, and with an ‘oof’ the two of you are sinking. 

“A stalker and a potential drug dealer does sound like a promising pair,” Jungkook jests, his hand palming the silky material of your ruched up ball gown. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout, wrapping your fingers around the long tresses of his hair, “can you please stop bringing that up? It was judgemental of me.” 

“I like when you’re judgemental,” he pokes your puppy-faced cheeks, ruddied with embarrassment. “I like picking fights with you and getting you all riled up.” 

“Will you rile me up now?” 

Sexy, he thinks. He figures a vixen has been hidden under you, one suppressed by a complicated engagement and many other factors he’d love to learn about in the near future. The situation at hand however, is far more pressing. Your body is finally warming up, and Jungkook tries to ignore the weight your body is causing, re-igniting an ache he felt hours ago when you two were squished against each other in the coach bus.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you declare, and you look a little frustrated that Jungkook is taking so long to process this information, “and I hope I take your breath away.” 

You taste like sugar and the softness that comes with the holidays. It’s tender and oh-so comforting, and Jungkook can’t help but squeeze your hips closer as your lips brush fervently against his. The feeling is both new and old, and Jungkook figures you’ve finally uncoiled a flame that you can no longer quell. 

Soon enough your kisses turn hungry, and Jungkook has to remind himself that you two have only known each other for a total of twelve hours, and he isn’t sure of what’s appropriate to jump to due to the speed of your relationship. Once he feels the first roll of your hips, a liquid heat that Jungkook can’t help but return back, he pulls away from your soft lips. Not too far, but a few centimeters apart so that Jungkook and you can catch your breath. 

“We should take this slow,” he starts, trying to make a reasonable impression now that you’re a guest at his home and finally settled from their long trip. “I really, really want to get to know you. And you’re so beautiful and I really do want to have sex but—” 

“Jungkook, I have not had sex with someone in two years,” you speak with a depraved tone, as if it’s been centuries since you’ve been touched. He can’t help but throw his head back and laugh, “a night full of sex sounds like the best last-minute present ever.” 

You bring his hand over to your core, the shiny glassy material of your gown doing nothing to hide the glimpses of pleasure you’re minutes away from experiencing. You whine desperately at the thought, and Jungkook’s a goner. 

“Well, I guess I’m about to pull a Christmas miracle,” he murmurs against your lips, ready to work his magic. 

[just-jordie-things]

Ghost

word count: 11,648 warnings: swearing, mentions of death, reader is an orphan,  summary: John B was the closest thing to family that (y/n) had left, and now he’s gone and disappeared.  Fortunately JJ’s there to help her feel whole again. based on this song ___

[ yelling at the sky, screaming at the world // baby why’d you go away?... heaven only knows where you are now ]

August 10th, 9:30 p.m (The Night Of The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

“Unfortunately… we lost them” Officer Thomas said, hanging his head shamefully.

Pope broke down right away, Kiara at his side, comforting him with a hug and soft words.

“What do you mean you lost them?” JJ asked, jumping straight to anger.  “They’re just gone? They’re dead!?”

(y/n) stood back, glancing down at her cold hands, finding that they’ve begun to shake with the new information.  She didn’t know how to process what she was hearing.

“We don’t know for certain-” Thomas tried to explain, but JJ wasn’t having it, he lashed out completely.

“You drove them right into the storm!” He yelled, lunging for the cop, grabbing him by his shirt and shaking him violently.  “You killed them-!”

“JJ..” Kiara cried out, clutching tighter to Pope’s side as she began to quietly sob.

He released the cop with a shove, turning back to his remaining friends.  Pope pulled Kiara into his arms, crying into her hair silently.

But (y/n) was frozen in place, her expression hadn’t changed since Thomas had told them what happened.  Tears were streaming down her cheeks quickly, more and more spilling over with each passing second.  Her whole body shook, and she wrapped her arms around herself.  She wasn’t sure if it was the grief or the cold, but either way, her own embrace provided no comfort.

“(y/n/n)- sweetheart…” JJ stepped towards her, his hands outstretched for her to take if she needed, but she didn’t move.  Her eyes didn’t even meet his.

“John B…” She whimpered, her lip quivering as she sniffled.  “Sarah…”

When a sob escaped her, JJ was there in a second, grabbing onto her and holding her as tightly as he could in his arms.  She continued to sob, screaming and crying as her body finally reacted.

She thrashed in his hold, squirming and pushing at him, hands smacking at his arms and chest, trying to pry him off of her, even though deep down all she craved was to be held, comforted.

“It’s not fair! It’s not fair,” She was screaming, drawing the attention of the surrounding officers, as well as the Carreras and the Heywards who had shown up to comfort their children.

But (y/n) had no one to show up for her, they were all dead.

“It’s not fair- It's not fair it’s not fair” She continued to cry against JJ, until her knees gave out and she crumpled to the ground.  

The blonde boy followed with her, gathering her back in his arms no matter how much she fought and pushed him away.

But eventually her body tired out, and she gave in.  He could feel her slump into his shoulder as she rested all of her weight on him.  His own tears soaked into her hair and tee shirt as he dropped his face to her own shoulder.

“Not fair” She mumbled, on repeat, until her crying made her too incoherent to understand.  

He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to do, he’d never seen (y/n) like this before, much less how you were supposed to react when your best friend, and your kinda new friend, were lost at sea.

“I’ve got you,” He said instead, knowing that there were no magic words to heal her.  “I’m here, I’ve got you”

They didn’t fix everything, but they seemed to do the trick, because she finally wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her hands fisting into the material of his shirt as she clutched onto him with the same intensity that he held her with.

They spent hours in that tent, long after Pope and Kiara’s parents took them home, they were still there.  Technically they were supposed to wait for a parent or guardian to pick them up.  But JJ’s father was a coked up piece of shit, and (y/n’s) parents were six feet underground.

She didn’t push him away again.  She spent the whole night in his arms, clinging onto him with an iron grip.  And ever since that night, she hasn’t really let go of him. ___

[ how do i love? how do i trust again? ]

September 10th, 3:00 a.m (One Month After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

“Wake up, (y/n/n), wake up”

The girl gasped for air as her eyes flew open, and as quickly as she’d woken up, she settled back into her pillow, eyes falling shut again as she let out a sign.

“I was doing it again, wasn’t I?” She muttered, squeezing her eyes shut tight as she tried not to cry, and tried not to remember the vivid details of her nightmare.

Which was more of a traumatic memory than a nightmare, really.

JJ, who was lying next to her, was quiet as he gazed down at her, watching her calm herself down as best she could.  He always gave her the space to relax on her own before stepping in.  He wanted her to know that she was capable of recovering on her own, but that he would still be there for her as soon as she needed him.

After a few deep breaths, the girl rolled onto her side, her face colliding with his chest as she continued her steady breathing.

“Will you hold my hand?” She mumbled, and he simply nodded, reaching for her trembling fingers, and gently slotting his fingers through hers.  She continued to tap her index finger over the back of his hand at a rapid pace.

She did this for a minute or two before speaking again.

“I’m sorry”

“Don’t be sorry, baby, it’s alright,” He murmured to her softly, followed by a kiss to her forehead.  “I’ve got you”

A small choked sound came from her as tears threatened to well up in her eyes again.

She’d spent the last month in bed with him like this.  No matter how much time passed, and no matter how much her grief started to melt away and she began her coping process, she’d still wake up in the middle of the night from awful nightmares.

She hadn’t planned on being a regular guest in JJ’s bed at the Chateau, but she also didn’t have anywhere else to go.  She didn’t have a place of her own, she’d lived at the Chateau since she was six and John Routledge had taken her in.

She was just a child when her parents got into a freak boating accident and died at sea.  She hadn’t understood why she was put in the system, or why she couldn’t go home to her mom and dad.  But for some reason, her friend John B had gotten his dad to take her in, and after a day or two of moving in, she’d understood.

John and John B were her family now.

But then a year ago, John Routledge was declared lost at sea, and it was just her and John B.  It was hard, since he was pretty much the only father she’d ever known, and since he was announced dead, in the same way her parents had been.  At least she still had John B, who was a brother to her.

Fate had a sick sense of humor though, sending him off into a storm, likely killing him.

And she ended up losing him, too.

JJ’s free hand smoothed over her back, caressing her hair, and then rubbing circles over her back again.  He always did his best to comfort her in any way she needed.  And it had been a month of waking up with her to her nightmares, so he always knew just what to do.

“Can we go stay in his room?” She asked quietly.

That was a new request that JJ hadn’t been expecting, but nonetheless, he nodded, and helped her to sit up.  He reached his hands out for her, offering to help her get out of bed, but she limply hung her arms in the air, silently asking him to carry her.

“Alright, you big baby,” He teased in a tired murmur, and leaned over to wrap his arms around her torso, picking her up and pulling her into his chest.

Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips, and her head laid down on his shoulder.  Had she not been so shaken up, she could have fallen right back asleep.

“But I’m only doing this cause you’re so damn cute” He told her as his hands shifted to hold her from under her legs, and he carefully made his way through the dark to get to John B’s room.

The flirty comment provoked a small and sleepy laugh from the girl.  It wasn’t much, but it was something, and it provided a certain comfort to JJ.  it had been a while since she truly laughed.  He missed the sound dearly.

(y/n) had spent some time in John B’s room during the long summer days.  But she’d never spent the night in it.

JJ would often find her in there, cleaning up, reorganizing his book shelf, playing his CD’s, feeding the fish he’d won at a carnival a year ago that was miraculously still alive- she’d do anything and everything to spend time in there.  To her, it was all that was left of him.

JJ had even caught her putting on his clothes, worn tee shirts, strangely-patterned button downs, sweaters that were too big for her- but she always took them off before anyone could see.  JJ pretended not to notice, and never said anything.  Both because he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed, but also because sometimes when she spent all of her time in that room, he’d feel just the tiniest amount of jealousy, and it made him feel ashamed.

[ i stay up all night, tell myself i’m alright // baby you’re just harder to see than most ]

“Alright, here we go, baby,” He said as he delicately set her down on the mattress.

(y/n) visibly deflated as she melted into the cool sheets.  Her limbs were still wrapped around JJ’s figure, so she pulled him down with her as she got situated, but he didn’t mind.

With great caution, he slipped out of her hold just enough to lay at her side, so that he wouldn’t pass out on top of her.

He watched as she seemingly relaxed for the night, finally.  She pressed her face deep into the pillow her head was under, taking in a deep breath, the lingering smell of cologne and the beach and something that was distinctly John B flooding her senses.

“It still smells like him” She murmured.  She doesn’t sound like she’s going to cry again, but JJ keeps a watchful eye on her, just in case.

When she exhaled, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze.  He gave her a small smile, which she faintly returned before moving in closer to him.

“Thank you” She whispered as her forehead touched his gently.

His arms wrapped around the small of her back, pulling her into him completely.  And then he kissed her forehead again, and then her nose, before tucking her head against his chest, just under his chin.

She tended to lean her ear against his chest, using the steady beat of his heart to lure her to sleep.

“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart” He told her, like he had a million times before.

“I know, you always say that,” (y/n) murmured, lips brushing over his neck as she spoke.  “But I mean it anyways.  Thank you, Jay”

Her hand finds a comfortable place to rest just over his heart, and soon she’s drifting back to a seemingly peaceful sleep.  JJ just hopes she makes it through the night.

He lets his hand brush through her hair, untangling the locks until his fingers can run perfectly smooth through it.  He does this until he falls asleep. ___

[ i put the record on, wait till i hear our song // every night i’m dancing with your ghost ]

July 4th, 10:00 p.m (A Month Before The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

Neither of them had made a move yet, but they both knew all too well that there was something between them.  Something fiery and exciting, something soft and intimate.

JJ always flirted with (y/n), long before he realized he actually had feelings for one of his closest Pogue friends.  They’d been friends since they were kids, and they’d technically been living together for the past few months, but only recently had it dawned on him that he was falling in love with her, and it was happening fast.

“As flattering as I find your staring, you look very zoned out,” Her voice drew him from his thoughts, and he found himself grinning as (y/n) walked up to him, beer in hand.

John B and Pope had thrown a Fourth of July kegger, and it was probably the craziest party they’d had in years.  Tourons and Kooks had shown up from all over the island, and every kid on The Cut made an appearance that night.

A couple of Kooks had even brought in their own kegs to help supply the party with enough beer.

But despite all the people here, all the hot Tourons to be exact, JJ had been content that (y/n) had approached him, with her sweet smile and revealing bikini.

“What’s goin’ through that pretty head of yours, hm?” She asked, only half teasing.

All summed had been like this.  The flirting intensified, and they both stopped pursuing one night stands with the Tourons that came to these things.

“Absolutely nothing,” JJ grinned back at her, and she laughed, believing him.  “Where you been all night? Fighting off all these guys I hope?” He asked, half joking.

Coincidentally, a group of basic white tourist boys walked past, one of them letting out a low whistle as their eyes wandered over (y/n’s) figure.

JJ scowled at him, stepping forward threateningly, one of his arms instinctively wrapping around the girl’s waist as he glared down the Touron until he cowered away.

“Wow,” (y/n) chuckled, one of her hands pressing against JJ’s chest, but she didn’t push him away, so he didn’t move.  “You made your point tough guy, jesus,” She said, raising her brows at him.  “Jealous much?”

“Me? Jealous?” He asked with a scoff, to which (y/n) mimicked the sound.

“That’s real hot coming from the most jealous and pissed off guy in the OBX” She teased with a growing smirk on her lips.

“Well, sure, but I’m not jealous of that guy,” JJ told her, gesturing at the lame Touron who was miserably failing at shotgunning a beer.

But as he watched the idiot with an amused grin, (y/n) just smiled up at the blonde boy, admiring his side profile for a moment.

Unlike most stories of friends who became lovers, where they weren’t sure when their friendship blossomed into something more, (y/n) knew exactly when she fell for JJ.

It had been last summer.  They’d been on the HMS Pogue on a fishing trip, and while she’d never been fishing before, she was eager to let JJ and Pope teach her how.  When she caught her first fish, JJ had cheered, but he could tell that it made her sad to throw it in the cooler.  So he told her it was alright if she wanted to throw it back.  He showed her how to carefully take the fish off the lure so it wouldn’t be as hurt, and let her throw it back in the water.

He must have felt her staring, because suddenly he was turning back to her, his eyes locking on hers instantly.

“Look who’s starin’ now” He teased, his fingers brushing against her hips in an attempt at tickling her.

She giggled and wiggled a bit, but she still didn’t pull away from him.

They were very close, so close that if JJ hadn’t been wearing his hat backwards, then its brim would have been bumping into her forehead.  So close, that she could just faintly feel his warm breath hitting the bridge of her nose.  So close, that it would be so easy to kiss him right now.

Curiously, her eyes wandered down to his lips, pink and inviting, begging to be kissed, she thought.  No wonder girls would throw themselves at him, he had the most perfect looking pair of lips.

Of course, before she could decide if it was worth it to throw reason (and the only Pogue rule) out the window, Rafe and Topper were causing trouble somewhere on the beach, and soon JJ was peeling himself away from her and racing off towards the conflict.

He was always there to end it, never one to shy away from a fight.  (y/n) had come to terms with that a long time ago, knowing it was something she’d never be able to change.

But looking back on it, if he hadn’t left her to get his ass kicked by Rafe Cameron, then they probably would have crossed that line between friendship and something more that very night. ___

[ Never got a chance to say a last goodbye ]

September 15th, 9:45 a.m (Two Months After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

The sun was unrelenting as it shined in through the window, forcing (y/n) to wake up despite her longing to sleep in bed all day.  It wouldn’t be the first time that she refused to get out of bed.

But she told herself that she should.  The sun was telling her that she should.  Even if she did manage to close her eyes and ignore the brightness streaming into the room, she knew she wouldn’t sleep comfortably.

Today, she was going to get up and make herself breakfast.  That felt like a good start for taking care of herself today.

She rolled over with a groan, in an attempt to reach for JJ to see if he was awake.  Some mornings he would wake up before her and she’d find him laying there on his phone, but sometimes he would just peacefully lay there as he waited for her to wake up.

However, as she lazily slung her hand towards the other side of the bed, she only ended up hitting pillows.  And suddenly the easy morning started to turn upside down.

Don’t freak out, she told herself, even as she scurried out of bed.  

Don’t panic, it’s fine, he’s probably just watching tv in the living room.  

As she was about to run out of the room, she decided at the last second it was probably best to throw on a pair of shorts.  The large tee shirt she well fell just past all of her curves, but it would be embarrassing if she ran through the Chateau in front of Pope and Kiara in a worried panic without pants on.

Or maybe he’s making breakfast, like that one time he brought you breakfast in bed, that was really sweet.

None of the calming ideas that crossed her mind actually calmed her, as she searched through the living room, there was no sign of JJ.  The kitchen was empty, the bathroom door was hung ajar, and also empty.

There was a logical explanation for him not being here, deep down she knew that, but then why didn’t he leave a note? Or wake her to let her know he’d be leaving? Why would he leave without saying anything at all? Didn’t he know that this was her worst fear come to life, again?

Panic took over, and next thing she knew she couldn’t take in enough air as her throat closed up and her legs stopped working.  She stood in the living room for a solid minute, hands glued to her head, fists tugging on her hair tightly in a terrible attempt to ground herself to the moment and not spiral any further.

But her heavy breaths turned to sobs and she didn’t know she was crying until she felt the tears on her cheeks.

There’s a logical explanation, there’s a logical explanation, she repeated in her head like a mantra, hoping to god that she’d start believing it soon.

Slowly, she crouched down on the floor, because sometimes when she had panic attacks she got dizzy so it was better to sit down now.

Or maybe he went boating with Pope, they like to fish early in the morning, she thought.  Maybe they hit something, the marsh is always changing with the weather.  Maybe the boat capsized, maybe they drowned to their deaths-

No! Don’t think that!

The sobbing got worse as she assumed the worst, taking in gasping breaths of air, desperate to fill her lungs that felt like they were about to collapse.

Maybe they went into town to pick up breakfast.  Maye they got stopped by Kooks, or Barry, maybe they were murdered in cold blood-

The girl whimpered, trying to ward off the horrific images rolling through her mind, but as terrible as they were, she reminded herself that these weren’t unrealistic worries, that these things had happened before, and would happen again.

He promised me he wouldn’t get on a fucking boat, he promised me he’d start biking around the island, she told herself.  JJ wouldn’t break a promise to her, especially that one, but the anxiety inside of her was still whispering into her ear, telling her that all of her friends very well could have been gone forever.

Maybe he just left.  Maybe he got sick and tired of waiting around.  Maybe he was just being a nice guy the last two months.  Maybe he didn’t care anymore.  Maybe he didn’t miss John B or Sarah.  Maybe he finally fled for the mainland like he’s been talking about since he was a kid.  Maybe he’s with a girl.  Maybe he didn’t care about you anymore.

Her hands covered her face, wishing that she could just stop and focus on something else, calm her breathing.  She wanted to run out of the Chateau and go looking around the island, but she remained frozen on the floor.

“(y/n)?” A voice called, and she could faintly hear the screen door swinging open and then shut.  “Woah, hey, (y/n/n)”

Through blurry eyes, she could just barely make out Pope’s figure, kneeling in front of her.

Pope, Pope is here, she thought to herself, and it sort of helped relax her.  You’re not alone, Pope is here.

She shakily reached her hands out to him, grabbing onto his forearms and anchoring herself to him.

He’s real, he’s right here.  His hands are holding your elbows, he’s real.

“Breathe, (y/n), deep breaths, you can do it,” His initially stressed voice calmed when he realized that she was having a panic attack.  He’d seen her have them once or twice before, but it was always JJ who rushed in and helped her out of them.  “Copy my breathing, can you do that?” He asked.

She nodded her head, eyes meeting his as he took in a long and deep breath, held it for three seconds, and then slowly let it out.  He kept on repeating that action until her exhales weren’t shaky, and her body relaxed.

“There you go, you’ve got it, you’re alright…” He said smoothly.

His thumbs caressed over her arms gently, reminding her silently that he was there for her, that he cared about her.

“You want to talk about it?” He offered, and (y/n) shut her eyes tightly, willing the rest of her tears to dry up.

“I- I woke up and- and-”

When she began to stutter, Pope hushed her soothingly, and helped her through another breathing exercise.

“Okay, now try again,” He said softly, once her breaths evened out again.  “Slowly”

“I woke up,” She said, slowly, and then exhaled.  “And JJ wasn’t there- and then he wasn’t out here-”

When the rambling began again, she breathed in deeply again.

“It’s alright, he’s right outside,” Pope told her, relieved that the problem had an easy solution..  “You want to go out and see him?”

(y/n) nods back at him, and he helps her stand.

“Kie and I came over this morning, we brought donuts,” He said, hugging her into his side.  “We were just on the porch, Jay said you were asleep”

Pope opened the front door for her, as they went onto the porch, and her entire body relaxed as her eyes landed on JJ.

He was sitting on the beat up sofa that had been out there since forever, while Kiara was leaning against the citing of the house, a blunt between her fingers.

JJ smiled as (y/n) came out with Pope, tucked into his side the way a child clings to their mother at large events.

“Morning baby,” He calls to her, and pats the space next to him on the couch, before resting his arm over the back of the cushions.  

In no time she peels away from Pope and is sliding into the space under his arm, her side and her legs pressed up against him.  It feels like that first sip of coffee in the morning, and she forgets about the anxiety attack she’d had just moments ago.

He eyes the way she’s twirling the ring around her thumb, almost obsessively.  She hasn’t taken it off since he’d given it to her, and he doesn’t think she ever will.

“You hungry? Kie and Pope brought donuts” He offered, gesturing to the box on the decorative table Kiara was standing next to.

“Maybe in a little bit” She mumbled, her head falling against his shoulder as she let herself feel relieved.

Some days it was hard to feel content with being content.  But JJ was a huge help with that.  His presence alone was enough to calm her, that much was obvious.

He’s a little thrown off, but wraps his arm around her nonetheless.  His rings are a chill on her hot skin, but it’s somehow comforting.

Panic attack, Pope mouths when the blonde boy looks to him, silently asking what happened.

JJ nods discreetly, before glancing down at the girl under his arm.

“How are you feeling?” He asked softly.

Kiara and Pope pretended to argue over the last chocolate sprinkled donut, so that they had a little bit of privacy between them.

“Fine, now,” She whispers back.

Her fingers aimlessly play with the chain around his neck.

“I- I had a panic attack” She admits.

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asked as the tips of his fingers grazed up and down her arm.

She lifts her head to look at him properly, her fingers still twirling his necklace around her fingers.

“Um… you just… you weren't inside…”

It felt embarrassing to admit that something as simple as that had set her off.  When she was in the moment it was a lot more terrifying.  But JJ made sure she wasn’t ashamed of that feeling.

“Well, I’m right here,” He told her with a grin.  “You know you can’t get rid of me that easy” He added, hugging her tight against him and kissing the top of her head.

She always went pink when he did that, that’s why he did it more often than he used to.

“I know,” She mumbled back.  “I just… you know…”

She doesn’t know what she wants to say.  That she’s scared to lose him too? That he’s the only anchor she had left? The only remnants of family she had left? That she loved him more than words could describe?

Whatever she had planned on filling the blank with, JJ seemed to understand her perfectly.  He’d gotten really good at understanding what she was trying to say in between the words she was actually saying.

“I know, baby,” He says softly.

Her head falls back onto his shoulder.  Selfishly, she wished that she could sit here with him like this every day.  Maybe then she'll start to really feel better.

Meanwhile there’s a nagging feeling in JJ’s chest.  Worry, fear, something terrible that began to manifest.  An anxiousness that (y/n) won’t emotionally recover from the disappearance of their friends.

He knew grief took time, that learning to cope took time.  But she’d already had to face those things time and time again, what if this was it? What if this was the last straw, and she gave into them?

His arm around her tightened a little, and (y/n) hummed as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck.  She placed a little kiss there before sighing.

“Thanks, Jay,” She mumbles.  “You always know just what I need”

He doesn’t say anything, just smiles and rubs her arm comfortingly.

Despite her words, he still worries on the inside. ___

[ i gotta move on, but it hurts to try ]

August 10th, 1:00 a.m (The Night Of The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

(y/n) and JJ had been stuck under police supervision for the last three and a half hours, sitting under the large tents, listening to the heavy rainfall while passing officers would offer their condolences.

It was all bullshit though, and it was starting to piss (y/n) off.

But finally they were allowed to go home, and were escorted to the Chateau.  Which is where they stood now.

(y/n) looked like she was glued to the floorboards of the porch, frozen in place like a statue.  The wind whipped at her hair and the rain still hit them even as they stood under the little roof over them.

“Come on, let’s go inside,” JJ said, reaching out to take her hand, but even as he tugs, she hardly moves.  “(y/n)-”

“I don’t want to,” She mumbles, eyes trained on the front door.

A part of her longed to see John B appear, open the door with a laugh and scold the pair for standing outside in the rain.  The harder she looks, the more she wishes to see him there.

“But I don’t have anywhere else to go” She whimpered, finally tearing her eyes away from the door to look at him.

JJ steps forward, his arm wrapping around her back as he slowly guides her inside.  Her feet shuffle along, but they barely lift off the ground, and she’s barely moving.  He’s just glad to get her inside and out of the rain.

“I just don’t want you to catch a cold, sweetheart” He told her, which was true, but he just needed to say anything to get her to come into the house.  He didn’t know what he’d do if she refused.

“I don’t care” She mumbled, but she was already standing at the inside of the doorway.

“Shoes off,” JJ told her, having already left his shoes at the door and was heading into the house.  “You know how JB feels about shoes in the house”

(y/n) nods, shakily, and starts to kick off her shoes

But now all she can think about is the first time she’d accidentally tracked mud into the house, and how funny it was when John B freaked out.  Thinking about it now, it was just sad.

When JJ came back in the room, she was crying again, silently, she might not have even been aware she was doing it.  She was untying the laces on her boots as tears spilled over her cheeks.

“Come on,” He spoke, and suddenly there was a towel wrapped around her shoulders.  “Let’s go get you cleaned up, okay?”

“No,” She mumbled.  “I just want to lay down”

Her hands gripped onto the fluffy towel almost violently, her knuckles were white, and her hands shook from the force.  JJ noticed.

“And you will, but you’ve got to shower first,” He said.  “Look at you, you’re soaked to the bone from the rain-”

“JJ-”

“No arguments, lets go” He replied, quiet and calm as ever.

She gave in, mostly because he didn’t have the energy to argue with him.  And then she was back to shuffling along with him to the bathroom.

She stood uselessly at the door while he turned the shower on for her.

“How hot do you want it?” He asked, one hand on the noz and the other under the stream of water

She shrugged, mumbled incoherently.

“You’ve got to speak up, honey” JJ said.

“I don’t care” She mumbled a little louder, wrapping her arms around herself.

“Yeah you do, I’ll put it on hot” He answered for her, and adjusted the nozzle accordingly.

But as he turned back, about to leave the room, she didn’t bother to move.  Her eyes were downcast, and her hands had released the towel only to wring her hands together.

“Hey, I’ll be in my room, you can-”

“Wait-”

She grabbed his wrist before he could leave the room, and her glossy eyes met his, her mouth opened but no words came out, so she closed it again.  He waited until she could find the right words.

“Please- please don’t leave me in here-”

Her breathing grew ragged and the tears started to fall from her eyelashes, and JJ nodded at her, silently confirming he'd stay so she would feel safe.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stay right here,” He told her, both of his hands wrapping around hers.  “I’ll wait right in here for you, alright?”

She nods, still a bit shaky, but she turns towards the shower and slowly works on taking off her clothes, so he thinks he’s doing the right thing.

In all honesty, he had no idea what the right thing to do was.  As he turned his back to her and stressfully ran his hands through her hair, he didn’t know what to say or do, what the right way to comfort someone was.

He knew that Kiara and Pope were at home with their families, probably hugging, telling each other they love each other, the kind of shit you see in movies.

But you didn’t see this part of the movie.  The part where the girl you love is going borderline catanoic as she stands in the shower, limbs heavy and heart shattered.

Was he supposed to talk to her? Offer what few comforting words he knew how to say? Was he supposed to tell her he was there for her, that he loved her and he would never leave her? Was that an overload of information?

“JJ?” (y/n) called from the other side of the shower curtain.

“I’m here” He said, sitting on the toilet seat so he’d be right next to her.

She peeled back the curtain, just enough to peek her head out, and then held her hand out to him.  A slight frown tugged on his lips, but he reached his hand out to hers anyways, softly clasping onto it, as though if he’d put any pressure into holding it, then she’d break like a porcelain doll.

She closed the curtain again and went about her shower.  It wasn’t a bother with only one hand, but JJ could still hear her soft whimpers from inside.

After ten minutes she turned off the water.

“Close your eyes” She directed, her voice was still a mumble, but without the noise of the water running JJ heard her clearly, and followed her order.

Her hand let go of his as she grabbed her towel and wrapped it around herself, but it was only briefly, as she was grabbing onto it again as soon as she was covered up.  She gave it a small squeeze to let him know that she was decent.

When he looked up at her, she was staring down at their hands, focused on the rings on his fingers.

The one on his thumb, she had given to him.  Not for a special occasion, she’d just found it in a shop and thought it would look fitting and cool on him.  

She was right.  

He never took it off.

There was another ring on his middle finger, that one was from John B.  He’d swiped it from a second hand shop because it had a neat but very faint engraving of a snake around it.  He’d originally stolen it for himself, but it hadn’t fit right, so he handed it off to JJ.

(y/n) ran the pad of her thumb over the engraving now.  The snake wasn’t very visible, but she could still feel it.

JJ squeezed her hand, drawing her eyes back to his.

She wasn’t whimpering anymore, but the tears hadn’t stopped.  She had to be exhausted.

“I’ve gotta take a shower baby,” He said softly.  “You want to go to bed?”

She shook her head, looking back at his rings.

“You want to wait in here?” He asked.

With a small nod from her, he stood up, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to the crown of her head before turning the water and going through the same routine again.

It took some time as he showered and (y/n) waited for him on the toilet.  When he’d finished and gotten out to find that she was still wrapped in her towel, he’d convinced her to let him help her change into pajamas.

When she’d finished, she wrapped her arms around his neck, stepping forward and hugging him gently, with little to no force at all.

“Alright, let’s get you to bed” JJ said, lifting her up with ease, one arm hooked under her legs and the other.

“You’ll stay, right?” She asks meekly as he brings her to his room.

“Of course” He hums back.

They get situated under the covers, and finally (y/n’s) tears seem to stop.  JJ doesn’t keep his hopes up, though.

He pulls her head to his chest, one arm wrapping around her back at his other hand takes a hold of hers.  For good measure, she hooks her leg over one of his, just to be sure she won’t roll away from him in her sleep.

“You won’t leave?” She murmurs.

The exhaustion and the misery that her body is facing is clear to him as she tilts her head back to look at him.

He gives her a small smile, before letting go of her hand, so that he can take the ring off of his middle finger.  He takes her hand again, and slides it over her thumb.  It’s a little loose, enough that she can twirl it around with ease.

“Now you can have a little bit of both of us with you,” JJ says to her.  “I’m not goin’ anywhere”

She doesn’t quite smile, but her expression relaxes as she looks at him, and he takes it as a good sign.

“I’ve got you, baby” He tells her softly as she settles against him, sleep finally starting to overcome her.

“I can’t lose you too” She tells him right before her body gives out. ___

[ how do i love? how do i trust again? ]

November 10th, 6:30 p.m (Precisely Three Months After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

(y/n) had been sitting on the couch all afternoon, replaying the day’s events in her head like a flashback scene in a movie.

She’d woken up with JJ, they made breakfast and went on a walk, avoiding the beach.  They went to visit Kiara at The Wreck with Pope, and then went back to the Chateau to do some chores.

(y/n) liked to keep the place tidy and clean.  It gave her something to do, and deep down, she knew that if John B came home, he’d be happy to see everything was just how he left it.  If not a little more organized thanks to her.

And then they’d gotten the call from the Sheriff’s Department.

JJ came into the room, a glass of water in one hand and a bottle of advil in the other.

“Here” He said, handing them both to her.

“I don’t need it, my head doesn’t hurt” (y/n) replied quietly, barely even looking at him.

“Not now, but from the look on your face I can tell it’s going to soon.  Just take it now, please” JJ said, holding out the cup and bottle towards her again.

(y/n) gave in, knowing he was right, and there was no use in arguing with him because he’d only bother her until she just took the pill.

JJ sat down next to her as she swallowed down the medicine, along with a few more drinks of water.  She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was, and suddenly wondered how long she’d been sitting there.

“Where do you think they are?” JJ asked out of nowhere, and she turned to him.

“What?” She asked, voice barely above a mumble.

“John B and Sarah,” He said their names so easily, so casually her heart clenched.  

She almost never spoke their names.  And when she did, she was usually in a fit of tears.

“Where do you think they are?” JJ repeated his question.

(y/n’s) mouth opened, then closed.  And then open and closed again.  She didn’t understand what he was asking.

JJ could tell, and he sat back to stretch out on the soda, his legs kicking out as his back leaned against the arm rest.  (y/n) turned her body to look at him properly, but didn’t crawl into his arms like he’d expected.  She was too confused trying to comprehend what he was saying.

“I think they’re in Florida,” JJ thought aloud, realizing (y/n) wasn’t going to entertain the question.  “And I think they got married”

“Married?” She mumbled, blinking at him.  “You think they’re... alive?”

“Of course,” JJ said, as sincerely as he could.  “Don’t you?”

She doesn’t answer, but she doesn’t have to.

“There’s no way they aren’t.  John B’s a pretty tough guy, and Sarah’s the most stubborn person I’ve ever met.  More stubborn than you” He spoke with such ease, it threw (y/n) off.  

His knee knocked against her side, and he held his hand out to her, beckoning her to lay with him.

Warily, she leaned forward, crawling into the space between his legs, and then flipping over to rest back against his chest.  JJ’s arms wrapped around her middle naturally, and he continued to let his thoughts roam free.

“Do you think they’ve got some new treasure hunt going down there?” He whispered into her ear.

“Yes” (y/n) replied, finally giving in to the conspiracy.

“Yeah?” JJ asked, glad that was entertained by the idea, and hopefully comforted too.

“Yeah… I’ll bet… I’ll bet they’re tracking more gold… or… or jewels… or something”

JJ smiled at how hard she tried to let herself get used to the idea.  He knew how badly she wanted to move on, and how she felt stuck in the past.  This was a significant step forward, and he was more proud of her than he let on.  He just didn’t want her to think he pitied her.

“They’re probably filthy rich by now,” JJ told her.  “She’s probably turned him full Kook”

“In a good way,” (y/n) spoke, her smile shining through her words.  “He was so…”

“Whipped” JJ muttered.

“In love,” (y/n) corrected with a soft exhale.  “They only had a week together before they… left,” She said carefully.  “And I… I’ve known John B my whole life and he’d never looked at anyone the way he looked at Sarah”

From where her head laid on his chest, JJ couldn’t see well, but he just knew that she was smiling as she spoke, reminiscing in the good memories.

“So you think they got married when they got to Florida?” JJ asked, speaking it like it was a truth.

“Yeah, I think they just might have,” (y/n) said.  She thought for a moment, and then let out a small giggle.

He was surprised by the sound, especially when it erupted into more joyous laughter.

“You know,” She ponders aloud, “I think that when they got wherever they were headed, and realized they were safe and alive, he proposed to her right then”

“Yeah?” JJ asked, amused, and revelling in the sound of her laughter.  

He had missed the sound so much, he’d worried he’d never hear it again.  He closed his eyes as he listened to her soft giggles, and melted at the way her back slightly shook against his chest.

“Yeah,” (y/n) confirmed, and one of her hands reached for his that lied on her stomach.  “It probably wasn’t romantic at all.  He probably didn’t even get on one knee”

“You’re so right,” JJ laughed with her.  “He probably was just like ‘we should get married’ and Sarah was like ‘oh John B, i love you!’ And-”

(y/n) burst into laughter at JJ’s high pitched impression of Sarah.  It didn’t sound like her, it didn’t even sound like any girl, but it made her belly laugh, and she sat up slightly so she could turn to look at him.

“Why are you laughing at me? That was a spot on impression” He told her.

“No, it wasn’t,” (y/n) said, shaking her head as she looked down at him.

There were crinkles at her eyes and her lips were pulled into the widest smile he’d seen from her in months.

He had convinced himself that he wasn’t 100% sure what love felt like, but right now it felt like his heart might just burst because of it.

He hadn’t just missed her laugh.  He’d missed her.

“It’s almost like you have no idea what a woman sounds like- but Jay, you’ve been living with one for like three years now- what?” (y/n) had cut herself off from her teasing when she saw the way he was staring at her.

He looked sad, but he was smiling, so she didn’t know what to think.  Usually she could read him pretty well, but she’d never seen this look before.

“What?” She asked again.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason, I just…”

JJ sits up, trying to find the right words as he instinctively grabs a hold of her.  She turns to face him again, her legs hooking behind him as she waits for him to continue.

“I’m just thinking” He finishes.

“Well that’s dangerous,” She replies, the banter coming as naturally as it used to.  She lets out a little snort of a laugh as she smiles at him.  “What about?”

JJ’s hands smooth around her hips, the way they did earlier when they’d gotten the call from Officer Thomas himself, but now it wasn’t to comfort, it was simply because he could.

“You ever think about what would have happened if we never went on that treasure hunt?” He asked, quietly, like he was trying not to upset her.

She goes still, but she doesn’t push him away, and she doesn’t choke up.

“All the time” She murmurs back.

Her voice comes out through a quiet exhale, and if he wasn’t so close, he might not have heard it.  But in the last three months his ears had been practically trained to hear her every breath, and catch on to every mumble.

“Really?” He asked, and she nodded, her bottom lip tucking in between her teeth as she looked back at him.

“Of course,” She quietly replied.  “How else do you think I keep sane during all the quiet moments?”

It’s a sweet thing to say, paired with a soft smile that JJ felt relieved to see.

“Well then what do you think we’d be doing right now?”

“Something stupid,” She answered right away, followed by a small laugh.  “Something sketchy.  That’s all we ever did”

“We fished too, fishing’s legal.  And surfing, that’s legal too”

“That’s fair,” (y/n) hummed.  “Kie and Sarah would’ve gotten along better,” She added.  “It would’ve been nice to have a girls day”

“I’ll have a girls day with you” JJ told her, making her laugh again.

“I know you would,” She said, setting her hands on his shoulders.  “But it’s not the same”

JJ shrugged.

“You can braid my hair and put makeup on me, what else do you do on a girls day?” He asked, and again, she giggled.

He hoped he could keep making her laugh.

“What do you think we’d be up to?” She asked once the laughter subsided and she was left staring into those baby blue eyes again.

“Macking”

The laughter bubbled back over, her hands swatting at his shoulders as she threw her head back.

“Well you don’t have to laugh that much,” JJ said, brows furrowed as he pouted.  “It’s true, we would be”

“Maybe,” (y/n) corrected.  “If you’d ever actually made a move, maybe”

“What do you mean ever actually made a move?” He asked, offended.  “I maed plenty of moves! Lots and lots of moves”

“Oh really?” (y/n) asked, quirking an eyebrow.  “I don’t think we’re remembering it the same way, because I only seem to remember you scaring other boys away from me...”

“Well, yeah, among other things,” JJ said, shrugging casually.  “Can’t have a bunch of lame Tourons crowding my girl”

She laughed at his idea of flirting, but she knew fully well that it had always worked.  JJ Maybank was charming in his own unique way, and even now it made her melt in his hands.

“So you’re saying that eventually you would have done something about it?”

“About it?”

“Yeah, you know, whatever was… between us,” (y/n) clarified, her finger twirling around the space between them.  “I have a hard time believing you would have asked me out”

“I would have!” JJ said, pretending to take offense at her accusation.  “Eventually”

“Mhm,” She hummed, and then shook her head.  “Well, we’ll never know now,” She sighed, dropping her hands to her lap as she started to fiddle.  “I think we skipped a couple steps”

“I think we skipped all the steps, sweetheart,” JJ chuckled, taking her hands so she would stop fidgeting.  “But that’s alright, I wouldn’t take it any other way.  You’d be the only one for me no matter what happens,”

Her face turns a rosy shade of pink, which brings JJ to kiss both of her cheeks with a proud grin.

“You wanna talk about it?” He asked.  “Have the what are we conversation”

Surprisingly, (y/n) shrugs and shakes her head.

“I mean, I don’t think we really have to, do you?” She asks softly.  “If there’s no one else for you, and no one else for me…” She trails off, her eyes flickering in between his.  “I think it’s pretty clear to me”

“Yeah,” JJ agrees, nodding his head.  “Pretty clear,” He repeats.  “I just hope you know what you’re getting into” He teases.

She giggles, wrapping her arms around his neck as she leaned in closer.

“I’ve lived with you for quite some time now, I think I know exactly what I’m getting into”

There’s a beat that passes between them, a quiet, contemplative beat.

But then (y/n’s) shaking her head, and she’s smiling at him so brightly that it’s contagious.

And then she leans over just a little bit, just enough to tenderly press her lips against his.

He’s quick to react, his hands reaching up to her face, pulling her impossibly closer to him.

She’s so slow and careful with her movements, and JJ thinks it might have been the softest kiss he’s ever been given.  Her lips are warm, inviting, and he begins to kick himself for not making a proper move on her back when everything wasn’t so heavy.

They pull away, their grins equally wide, and (y/n) leans her forehead into his, her eyes still shut.  JJ stares at her, awestruck, admiring every curve and freckle on her face.

His hands fall to her waist again, and he pulls her down onto the couch with him, allowing her to tuck herself in against his side as they lay comfortably.

They talk for a long time, theorizing on where they’d be now in another life, and what Sarah and John B are up to, wherever they are.  There’s a few tears that JJ has to wipe from the girl’s cheeks, but she’s smiling.

She has hope, for the first time in months, she’s filled with hope and love and deep down she truly believes things will get better.

Even if the day started with the Sheriff’s Department calling to let them know that John B and Sarah Cameron are officially and legally declared dead, since they’d been missing for three months.

It might get worse before it gets better.  But it was bound to get better. ___

[ i stay up all night, tell myself i’m alright // baby you’re just harder to see than most ]

February 19th, 2:45 p.m (Six Months After The Disappearance of John B Routledge and Sarah Cameron)

“I’m not sayin’ that I will key their cars,” JJ argues, “I’m just saying that I would!”

Pope and Kiara burst into fits of laughter, knowing full well that JJ would bust up Kook property at any given chance, even unprovoked.

(y/n) rolled her eyes from next to him, patting his arm gently.

“Sure, Jay, sure” She says, completely unconvinced.

Normally he’d continue to argue that he was just making a joke, but no one would believe him, and truth be told, he wouldn’t even believe himself.

They’d all gotten together today to hang out and eat lunch at The Wreck.  It was one of Kiara’s off days, so for once she actually got to sit at the table with her friends.  It was a nice afternoon, and definitely much needed quality time.

“You want more water?” (y/n) hummed, already picking up her and JJ’s empty glasses.

“Sure, thanks,” He answered with a charming smile while she got up.  “Oh, but wait” He called, reaching out for her arm before she could walk away.

“What?”

He tugged on her arm so she would bend over and he could swiftly kiss her cheek.  She giggled, swatting gently at his bicep, but nonetheless she blushed as she headed off to the counter.

Kiara and Pope each made their faces at JJ.  Winks, wiggling eyebrows, wide eyes, smirks, they couldn’t help it.

“Shut up, both of you” JJ chuckled before they could even say anything.

“We didn’t say anything” Pope grumbled.

“It’s just about time, that’s all,” Kiara said, putting her hands up in surrender.  “You two have been dancing that dance for years”

JJ didn’t say anything, just smiled as he poked around his plate of fries.

“Look at him, he’s so in love with her” Kiara cooed.

But Pope wasn’t looking at him at all, he’d turned in his seat when he’d caught sight of Rafe Cameron eyeing (y/n).  He’d known it wasn’t a good sign.

“Pope,” Kiara called, trying to get his attention, but realized his gaze was focused elsewhere.  “What are you…” She trailed off, turning to follow his line of sight.

She only groaned at the sight of Rafe, before turning back to their own table.  Kooks came to The Wreck on occasion, but not usually Kooks like Rafe Cameron and Topper Thornton, who were in a booth across the restaurant.

“What’s he doing?” Pope mumbled, now watching Rafe get up from his booth, and make his way to the counter, where (y/n) was chatting with one of the servers.

JJ started to get up, but Pope was quick to put a hand up.

“Wait, doesn’t start anything,” He warned, and for some reason, JJ listened to him.  “(y/n) was friends with Sarah”

“That guy’s a fucking prick- and a murderer-” JJ started to argue, but Pope hushed him, telling him to keep his voice down.

“Just wait a minute before you swoop in there and make a scene,” Pope said.  “He’s Sarah’s brother, Sarah was a good person”

JJ muttered a string of profanities, but sat back down in his seat.  He didn’t take his eyes away from the counter though.

“(y/n) (y/l/n),” Rafe called, letting out a low whistle that made JJ bristle.  “Long time no see”

(y/n) barely looked at him before shooting her gaze down to the cups of water.  JJ can tell that she’s playing with the ring on her thumb.

“Yeah, I haven’t really been… around” She’d answered.

“Why doesn’t he just say his piece and leave” JJ muttered, both of his hands in his lap, curling into tight fists.

“That’s too bad” Rafe responded.

(y/n) wasn’t giving him any of her attention, so JJ knew he shouldn’t be so upset right now.  But he didn’t trust Rafe for as far as he could throw him, and he definitely didn’t trust him around (y/n).

“She can hold her own” Pope reminded him, knowing that JJ was starting to see red.

Yeah, but he’s a creep, he thought to himself.

“I’m sorry about Sarah,”

(y/n) spoke suddenly, soft and sweet, displaying nothing but kindness to a boy she knew wouldn’t know what kindness felt like if someone handed it right to him.

“I didn’t get to know her as well as I would have liked, but… I did like her a lot.  She was definitely a special-”

Rafe cut her off before she could say anything more.

“Well, you move on fast, don’t you?” He snarled.

(y/n) blinked, eyes going wide at the rude comment, even if she didn’t understand it.

“What-?”

“Your Pogue boyfriend’s only dead for a few months and you’ve already latched onto another, huh?” He asked, gesturing towards JJ.

(y/n’s) eyes wandered over to her boyfriend, who had just stood up from his seat with such force it fell backwards, and was now making his way over.

Please don’t get in a fight, she begged silently.  Please don’t make a scene, this isn’t worth the attention of the whole restaurant.

“Rafe, you’ve got it all wrong,” She told him quietly, trying to diffuse the situation herself.  “John B wasn’t my boyfriend, we grew up together, he was a brother to me-”

“You’re disgusting,” Rafe spat at her.  “If it wasn’t for your Pogue friends and your Pogue slut self, Sarah wouldn’t be dead right now!”

It felt like (y/n’s) heart stopped at the cruel accusation, and for a moment, she thought she might burst into tears in front of him.

“She’s not dead” She mumbled, her throat going tight.

JJ was at her side in a second, his arm winding around her hips and pulling her into him, about to drag her away without a word to Rafe.  He knew she didn’t want him to act out, and as hard as it was, he didn’t want to let her down.

He prompted her to follow him back to the table, forgetting about the water on the counter, he just wanted to get her out of this restaurant as fast as possible

“She is dead, they’re both dead because of you!” Rafe called after her, desperate to get the last word in.

“Why don’t you shut the fuck up?” JJ hollered back, throwing the Kook a threatening look over his shoulder.

“That’s fine sweetheart!” Rafe shouted, and (y/n) tried her best to block him out.  “Let your shiny new toy fight your fights for you! Just like John B did.  Do all the Pogues you fuck become your guard dog?”

That was it.

Any chance of her crying went out the window and next thing she knew, she was ripping herself out of JJ’s hold and lunging towards Rafe, swinging without any aim, but enough force that when she hit the Kook in the nose, she could feel the crunch of cartilage against her knuckles, and blood splattered onto the counter.

“You bitch-!”

Rafe barely had a chance to fight back before JJ was grabbing (y/n) by the waist, lifting her up and physically carrying her out of The Wreck.  Pope and Kiara hastily followed them out, laughing joyously.

“Are you crazy?” JJ asked, only setting her down once they were down the street, and they were certain that a group of Kooks wouldn’t follow after them to finish what (y/n) had started.

She was still scowling, and rubbing at her jaw where Rafe had just barely nicked her with his knuckles.

“Fuck,” JJ grinned at her, taking her by surprise.  “You are crazy”

“You’re not mad?” She asked, and all three of her friends laughed.

“Mad? Of course not, you just broke Rafe Cameron’s nose, baby!” JJ cheered, cupping her face in his hands and pressing a quick kiss to her lips, and then her nose, and then her cheek.  “That’s my girl!”

The whooping and hollering of her boyfriend, echoed by Pope and Kie, made her blush red and butterflies erupt in her chest.  Breaking a Kook’s nose was a strange thing to feel bashful about, but the attention made her shy.

“Come on, let’s get home and ice that before it bruises” JJ said, nodding to her jaw.

As they made their way to the Chateau, their hands latched and swinging between them, JJ continued to gush over how badass and amazing she was, no matter how much she laughed it off and begged him to stop making her blush. ___

[ every night i’m dancing with your ghost ]

February 19th, 3:15 p.m

“You’re lucky I pulled you outta there before he landed a whole punch,” JJ told (y/n) as he pressed a bag of frozen peas against her jaw.  “This coulda hurt a lot worse, why didn’t you duck babe?”

(y/n) let out a huff, swinging her legs from where she sat on the kitchen counter.  JJ was standing between them, coddling her much more than necessary.

“I dunno, I’m not some pro fighter like you” She retorted, and hissed when he pressed a little too hard against the sensitive skin.

“I know that was supposed to be sarcastic, but I’m gonna take it as a compliment anyways,” JJ retorted, earning a good natured eye roll from the girl.  “You know I’m proud of you, right?”

“I know,” She giggled back.  “You haven’t shut up about it”

“Can’t help it, it was fuckin’ awesome,” JJ gushed again.  “It was so hot, the most perfect punch, I wish I coulda taken a picture of the look on Rafe’s face, priceless.  You’re such a badass, I fucking love you”

He didn’t seem to catch what he’d said, but (y/n) did.  

Her eyes blew wide, and her lips parted momentarily, at a loss for words.  And since she didn’t know what to say, she decided the next best thing was to lean forward and capture his lips in a passionate kiss.

The kiss took JJ by surprise at first, but then the realization of what he’d said hit him, and he pulled away from her abruptly.

“Oh my god, I didn’t mean- well I did, but I-”

“JJ,” (y/n) giggled as he rambled, her hands laying across his cheeks.  “It’s okay, I-”

They were cut off by the phone ringing, which was odd, because it wasn’t their cellphone’s ringtone.  It took a second to even realize that the Chateau had a landline.

“What the fuck?” (y/n) pushed the bag of peas JJ was still holding away from her face, and hopped off the counter.  “Who even has this number? Oh my god, do you think it’s Thomas again?”

(y/n’s) heart began to race as she darted out of the kitchen towards the phone hanging on the wall.

“(y/n/n)- do you want me to take it?” JJ asked, worried that she’d freak herself out too much to actually answer the phone.

But she’d already unhooked the phone from the wall.

“Routledge Residence, (y/n) speaking”

There was a chuckle on the other side of the line, followed by a teasing, “I just knew that you weren’t gonna move out”

JJ couldn’t hear what the caller had said, but from the look on (y/n’s) face, he knew it couldn’t have been a telemarketer.

She dropped to her knees, the cord on the phone uncoiling completely as it stretched all the way down.  A choked sound between a sob and a gasp escaped her, and in a second, JJ was kneeling in front of her, jumping right into panic attack mode.

“(y/n/n), what is it? Who is it?”

“JJ there too? How are you guys-”

“John B?” (y/n) mumbled, voice shaky, scared that this was some practical joke at her expense.

JJ’s eyes went wide, and she finally looked up at him, his jaw slack.

“The one and only,” He laughed again.  “Guess I’m lucky you were at the house, I don’t remember any other phone numbers”

“I can’t believe it- are you okay? Is Sarah okay? Holy shit, John-”

“We’re okay, we’re both okay,” He chuckled, cutting her off.  “You’re not gonna believe this… but… we’ve got it”

“You’ve got it?” She repeated, confused.

“The gold, (y/n), we’ve got the gold”

“No shit-”

“Sarah says hi by the way,” He added.  “We’ll be back as soon as we can with it, okay? I don’t know when, but we’re working on it”

“What’s he saying?” JJ asked, but (y/n’s) brain was in a clusterfuck of information.

“I miss you- well all miss you- we miss you so much” She stammered out.

“We miss you too, (y/n)!” Sarah called, sounding distant through the speaker.

“We miss you a lot,” John B added,  “I’m sorry we didn’t call earlier, we just had to be sure there way it could get tracked-”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I forgive you,” (y/n) said through a watery laugh.  “Just- just be safe, and get back as soon as you can, okay?”

“We will, promise,” John B replied.  “And I’ll try to call more too, okay? Look we’re… we’re working it all out right now”

“Okay, good,” (y/n) sighed, and wiped her teary cheeks with the back of her hand.  “I can’t wait to see you both”

“And when you do, we’ll be millions of dollars richer,” He told her.  “Look, we have to get going, Sarah has work.  The Kook Princess has a job here!” He told her with a laugh.  “I’ll call you when I can, alright?”

“Alright,” She agreed.  “Okay, call soon”

“Stay safe, (y/n/n), talk to you soon”

“Bye, John B”

He hung up, leaving the phone to ring a low dull sound, and (y/n) and JJ to stare at each other in amazement.

“They have the gold” (y/n) mumbled out.

“For real?”

“For real,” She nods back at him.  “They’re working on a plan to come home-”

Before she can finish, he tackles her to the ground, hugging her tight, and just letting the phone hang by it’s cord.  They’re laughing, she’s crying, and they can’t remember the last time they’ve felt joy like this before.

(y/n) sits up slightly, enough to wrap her arms around him and kiss him chastely.

“They’re in the Bahamas, and Sarah has a job, and- and they’re gonna come home” She rambled on as tears streamed down her face faster than JJ could wipe them away.

He’s grinning at her, kissing her whole face, everywhere he could.

She starts to giggle from the kisses, her shoulders raising from the ticklish feeling.

“JJ- JJ!” She cried out, having to grab him by his shoulders to get him to chill out.  “We have to go tell Pope and Kie!” “Okay, come on, let’s get going, I’ll drive you there now” JJ said, pulling her up to her feet, but before racing for the door, he wrapped his arms around her and spun her around in the air.

“I can’t believe it, I can’t believe it!” (y/n) cried out, giggling when he finally set her back down, and grabbed her hand before dashing for the front door.  “We’re going out tonight, baby!” She was so ecstatic, her body was practically vibrating.

He laughed, grabbing the keys to his dirtbike from the counter.

“Wait wait wait, JJ!” (y/n) called, her grip tightening on his hand as she pulled him back towards her.

“What? What is it?” He asked in a hurry, his eyes wild as he looked back at her.

She just grinned at him, before pulling him in closer, and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could kiss him.

She could feel his tenseness fade away, and when she smiled it broke their kiss.

“I love you too,” She told him, her smile brightening before she reached up and stole another kiss.  “And I’m glad you’re here with me, always”

“Well, we do live together, sweetheart,” He teased.  “But you know I’d never go anywhere else”

“I know,” She hummed, and leaned in to kiss him one more time.  “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, quit trying to distract me!”

(y/n) laughed as she followed him out the door, an overwhelming amount of delight flooding through her as she got on the back of JJ’s bike, rehearsing in her head what she wanted to say to their friends, and how impatient she was to see John B again.

___

xoxo ~ jordie

[smurphyse]

Loki is dating a young woman who is a fantastic cook and one day he realizes his pants are a tad tight. He’s gained some weight but doesn’t have the heart to stop eating her wonderful food

Southern Belle

Word Count: 1691 words

Tags: body issues (not like anything too triggering, I don’t think), mentions of sex

I always love feedback, but like, please be nice lol

Send me more Loki prompts! <3 I love doing oneshots!

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Here we go,” she sing-songed, carrying a large baking dish over to the table, the little hand-painted ladybugs that decorated it’s sides seeming just as excited as she.

Loki sat patiently, smiling at her as she set it down on the blue checkered tablecloth next to a tub of ice cream. She set down a few brightly colored plates, all painted with various bugs and flowers, decorated by her own hand- which were still stained with paint, he noticed fondly. 

“Peach cobbler,” she grinned, shaking her shoulders in excitement, “Just like Mamaw used to make!”

She watched him closely as he took his first bite, giggling when his eyebrows knitted together in bliss. Fuck, everything she made seemed to come from Valhalla.

His girl, his Southern Belle. The two had been dating for only a few months, ever since Loki had come to San Francisco during his travels. She had been poking around an art fair, her long curls pulled up into two pigtails as she pulled out pieces to observe.

She’d been wearing a pair of dirt smeared overalls, detailed with little butterflies and flowers, obviously hand-embroidered. They were rolled up at the ankles, her neon Converse forcing his eye to her like a shining beacon in the night. 

He’d been drawn to her, like a moth to the flame, unable to control himself as he pushed past the crowds to meet her. As he came face-to-face with her she glanced up at him and flashed him a megawatt smile. He’d been speechless, utterly besotted. 

“Can I help you, darlin’? You look lost,” she drawled, and it took a moment for the Allspeak to translate her thick Southern accent. 

“I think I’ve just been found, actually,” he chuckled, finally finding his voice. 

Her smile seemed to grow brighter, the little crinkles around her eyes deepening as she flushed deeply. 

Loki had offered her a coffee, and she took it. He’d been living in bliss ever since.

She’d come to San Francisco to be an artist, picking up little commissions here and there, working in various galleries and zipping from place to place to help out her fellow creators. She was constantly buzzing around, full of excitement and energy about the whole world around her, ready to take it on day by day.

She gave Loki courage, made him see the little details of this Odin-forsaken planet that he had mostly overlooked. He loathed to admit it, but she had made him love Earth, so long as she was on it. 

One day he would take her to Asgard, and he would watch as she painted the skies in her excitement and ecstasy. His world would be born anew in his eyes, just from the little things she would point out, things he’d never seen. 

They found time for one another whenever they could. Loki had kept himself busy working in various art fairs, finding himself a good organizer for such events. One activity that they had found pulled them together, besides the lovely rapture that was their sex, was cooking. Loki had taken it up when he arrived on Earth, mostly enjoying food closer to Asgard’s cuisines. She was from the South, whatever that meant Loki was not sure, but she insisted it meant all things ‘comfort food’. 

And comfort it gave. She’d shown him Tennessee Barbeque, ‘Pop Pop’s Soaked Ribs’, a bunch of things having to do with cottage cheese, and of course, desserts. 

He was settling down. Norns, if Thor could see him now. He’d likely have a joke or two to make of his unattached, emotionally distant brother finding love in such a creature as her. 

Loki could hear her now, singing some country song in the shower, her deep twang echoing off the tiles and through her small apartment. 

He was getting ready for the day, pulling on a deep green undershirt as he stood in his boxers. He pulled a pair of black slacks out of his little designated area of the closet and pulled them up.

As he buttoned them, he noticed they felt a bit tighter than the last time he’d worn them a few weeks ago. They had one of her art events to go to for lunch, and he’d been wearing jeans mostly when he was working at the fairs. 

Turning, Loki checked out his ass in the mirror. He still looked fabulous if he had to say, but his pants were tighter. 

Could this be a trick? Had Thor tracked him down and performed some spell to throw Loki off his game? It certainly would not be the first time something similar had happened. 

He lifted the shirt, turning to the side as he patted his tummy, his finger pinching along his sides as he sighed heavily. He stepped closer to the mirror, pressing the back of his hand under his chin. His mouth dropped open in shock, and he glared at his reflection.

He’d gained weight.

“I wouldn’t have nothin’ if I didn’t have you,” she sang as she walked back into the bedroom in a fluffy pink towel. She came up behind him and wrapped her hands around his waist, giving him a squeeze as she placed a kiss between his shoulders.

“Hey, handsome.”

Loki scoffed, feeling quite uncomfortable suddenly. She frowned against his back, her hands squeezing his sides lightly, his love handles.

He pulled away from her with a groan, the air feeling heavy around him. He turned to look at her, her lip set in a pout on her concerned face.

“I’m not feeling very handsome today, kitten.”

“Oh,” her frown set deeper for a moment, but was quickly replaced by a mischievous smile, “Is there something I can do to make you feel handsome?”

She tucked her lip between her teeth as she sauntered back up to him, placing her hands on his chest. He smiled down at her, his heart bursting in his chest. 

Loki dipped his head, catching her lips with his own. Her hands tangled into his hair as her towel fell away, and Loki took the opportunity to lift her into his arms and carry her over to the bed.

“I think I have something in mind,” he grinned, pulling her under the covers as she giggled from his touch. 

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

They arrived at the event a little late. The only craft she was not talented in was the art of makeup, but luckily Loki was, and they’d had to spend a few extra minutes covering up some of the hickeys someone had left on her neck and chest.

They were at some vegan restaurant in town that doubled as an art studio. Loki would never understand it, all these hybrid businesses were too niche, they’d have a hard time lasting in this market. But, she liked going and supporting other artists and friends, enjoyed having her art displayed on the walls of local businesses, and who was he to deny her that fun?

The little buffet table was filled with all sorts of leafy greens and vegetables of all colors. It was a vibrant exhibit, accentuated greatly by her art that complimented the bright green and orange paint job of the establishment.

“How come you don’t make food like this?” he asked, waving a blackbean taquito toward her as she gazed at another artist’s work.

“I make vegetables all the time,” she shrugged, snagging the taquito out of his hand and taking a bite.

“You make vegetables with Crisco, which I believe is just butter and animal fat mixed together.”

“I thought you liked my food, honey,” her big eyes clouded with worry, and his chest crumbled in an instant. 

“Oh, my sweet,” Loki sighed, snaking one of his hands around her waist, the other moving to cup her chin, “I do, it’s just-”

“Just what? You’ve been acting weird all day, Loki. What’s going on?”

He felt the heat creep across his cheeks, embarrassment flooding his every vein as he looked down at her. He hated feeling like this, vulnerable, but he wanted to be honest with her, to invest in this relationship.

“I’ve gained some weight recently… and I think it’s from your cooking.”

Her eyes widened in shock, “I haven’t noticed.”

His head cocked to the side, his lips pursing in disbelief. She noticed everything, from the ants on the sidewalk to the stars in the sky, she saw it all. 

“Loki, if you want me to make healthier meals, I’m more than willing. You just seemed to like my comfort recipes so much, and I wanted to make you things you liked,” she wrapped her arms around his waist, tugging his hips tightly against hers. “I have lots of recipes in my book, darlin’.”

“I do love your cooking. I guess I just feel a little… insecure right now,” he admitted, his face starting to cramp from the blazing blush across his nose.

“I really didn’t notice anything, but,” her hands dragged back to his belly, patting it softly as she stood on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. “Now that you mention it, I do like the little bit of cushion I’m feelin’.”

“Wow,” he chuckled, kissing her again. He covered her hands with his, giving them a soft squeeze of thanks. 

Suddenly, he had an idea. He leaned in and whispered hotly against her ear, “Think you can help me work some of it off?”

“Oh,” she feigned innocence, her southern drawl coming out in full force, “what kind of exercises do you have in mind?”

“The kind that includes me, you, and a locked bathroom door fifteen feet away,” Loki smirked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. 

“Oh, I’m gonna be so sore in the mornin’,” she laughed as Loki dragged her to the other end of the restaurant, admiring his ass in his trousers unabashedly. 

Loki pulled her into the bathroom, locking the door behind them as he lifted her onto the sink. She grinned at him, her eyes full of light as he looked at her lovingly.

His girl, his Southern Belle.

His favorite thing to eat.

[shakespearesdrugdealer]

Just friends

Minors DNI.

Pairings: College AU. College!Gojo x fem!reader

Warnings: Smut (fingering), swearing, is fluff a warning?

A/N: Okayy, so this a college AU with a friends with benefits dynamic. I wanted to make this a slow burn so I'll see where it leads lol.

Enjoy!

He was kissing your neck and you were adjusting yourself under him to allow him to move further down. He didn’t smell like himself; his cologne was mixed with someone else’s. You were supposed to be okay with that though, because you guys were just friends after all. You were there for each other while doing homework, working on labs together, going bowling on the weekends, grabbing coffee and when the teenage hormonal urge came to indulge in each other’s body; well, a month ago you agreed to that too.

“Look, despite the movies, I think it could work,” Gojo proposed.

“What makes you think that?” you narrow your eyes at him from across the lab counter you guys were sitting at, trying to compile a report you messed up twice by now.

Chemistry was hard. But Gojo was making it harder for both of you right now by asking unnecessary questions to push a few boundaries in your friendship.

“The fact that you are pretty objective, and that we are both have needs,” he said, adding a playful drawl on the last word.

“No,” you pointed out firmly, hesitating to meet the eyes that were set at looking into yours. “You have needs, I on the other hand would like to finish this report and go to sleep.”

“See, that could easily be turned into a better end to your day if you go to sleep with me,” he countered, putting his hand on the calculator you were punching numbers into; forcing you to lift your head up and look at him with a frustrated but amused expression.

“Is this really the time to talk about this?” you huffed, trying to free your hand while trying hard and failing at controlling the heat spreading to your face.

“No time better than the present lovie.”

“Not your lovie,” you emphasized, sitting back onto your chair and giving up at the notion of finishing your lab. When Gojo is being stubborn about something, there were not a lot of ways to solve the problem but give in and listen; like right now, with his absurd idea.

But was it really absurd though? You guys have been friends for a good while now, 2 years to be exact. You liked how he could go on for ages talking about the ridiculous things he did at college that day and you wouldn’t mind listening because it allowed you to see the day outside of your own world. Maybe it was because your life lacked a little chaos and his lacked the calm and organization of yours; but you worked well with each other. He dragged you out of the dorm on days you got obsessed with completing your readings and you were grateful for the sun that you got. You also dragged him back into the dorm on nights you knew were meant for rest, or studying instead of getting wasted with the kids who had already completed their tests for that week.

“Look, all I’m saying is, let’s try it out, and if it fails…” he stretched out of his chair like he was doing some kind of tedious work (like the fucking report you guys were supposed to write). “Well, at least we will know where that road leads to.”

His standing figure made you look so small you wanted to punch him in the throat. But you also felt safe?

It’s not like you were completely against the idea. I mean, you knew him pretty well; you knew what kind of a person he was. You understood that he makes a great friend, but he would probably break your heart and chuck it in the bag of broken hearts he carries around with him. And let’s not lie, he’s hot. You’ve seen how his shirt rides up when he leans back against the pillows on your bed on the days he drops by your dorm to annoy you. You also hate how you can’t stop yourself from staring at how his eyes widen and sparkle when he finds something interesting in the material he’s reading when you guys are studying together. You knew there was a thin line between being his friend, working well together, him being so fucking attractive and you falling in love with him, God forbid.

Well, maybe you could walk that thin line. “If we fail, we never talk about it again okay?” you started, framing the rules of your relationship in your head.

“Yup,” he agreed, liking where this conversation was headed.

“There are going to be rules of course.”

“Mhhm.”

“No talk of this outside the two of us.” You look at him dead serious.

“Yep yep.”

“And you have to stop being so fucking annoying when we do what we do,” you added.

“Meh, no promises,” he shrugged.

“Okay, well, it looks like we’ve come to some kind of an agreement even though this report is not done,” you sighed closing your book at the realization that the time you signed up for the lab had elapsed.

“Hey,” Gojo said, clearing his throat. Was he nervous? You glanced at him while trying to gather your things into your bag.

“Do you wanna test the agreement?”

“What?” you pause your actions at the offer. “Now?”

“I mean, I see nothing stopping us,” he reasoned. “And we can finish the report at the dorm too.”

“How do you plan for these bribes to work with me?” you smile at his offer to work in exchange of doing the dirty.

“What can I say lovie, I’m a bit of a genius when it comes to being a slut.” Only Gojo could imbue so much confidence into being a slut.

“Again,” you said, “not your lovie.” You push your bag into his chest as a sign of agreement and head towards the lab door. He caught up with you in no time, cradling your bag in his arms and smiling stupidly wide like he won at an arcade game at the fair. You didn’t know if what was going to follow was a disaster or the start of something better than anything you two ever knew.

He didn’t even wait for you guys to settle into your room or talk about how your relationship was going to work before throwing your bag onto the bed and backing you up against your door and pressing his lips against yours to let you know how the next few hours of your day were going to go. And oh my god, they were going to go so fucking good.

“Is this okay?” he asked, pulling away from your lips and twisting the lock on your door with his free hand.

“Yeah,” you squeaked, embarrassed and a little confused at how quickly this day was taking a whole new turn.

“Wanna say that again?” he teased swiping his thumb across your cheek while tilting your head to look at you properly.

“Just-” you swallowed. You’ve never seen his eyes look like this, even after all this time with him. They had their usual playful glint in them, the kind that normally makes you want to shove him through a locker (not that you haven’t tried) but right now there was something more. Something that made you want to run but also give into his touch and the patterns he was drawing on the small of your back with his other hand. “Just…take it slow okay?” you ask, hoping he understood that you hadn’t done something like this in a while now.

He knew that though. You talked about your first times over a drunk Friday evening and that was when he figured you hadn’t done as much as him and you also figured that Gojo was a threat to womankind.

“Yeah, I know,” he replied, taking your hands into his and leading you towards the bed. His eyes never left yours and you weren’t done tasting his lips just yet, so you stare at them with unabashed desire. “Oh, my eyes are up here love,” he said, pausing his movements to take in this side of you he hadn’t seen before.

“Shut up,” you retort, a little annoyed at how quickly he had you feeling so hot and bothered. You wrap your arms around his neck and stand on your tippy-toes to pull him down to meet your lips as he groans into the kiss in surprise. You don’t know what it was that got into you, but you pushed him to walk to the edge of the bed as your tugged at the hem of his shirt to let him know you wanted it on the floor. He was breathing hard too by this point; his hand cupping your neck and the other finding its way under your shirt. He laughs at your attempt to lift his shirt and removes his hands from your body for a moment to take his shirt off. Your eyes widen at the view you were presented with. Your hands reach for his chest but he grabs your wrists, tilting his head in amusement. “Kinda unfair if yours doesn’t come off too no?”

And that’s how you found his hands slipping under your shirt and around your back, leaving goosebumps at his touch. He unhooked your bra and lifted the set of clothing from your body, leaving you hazy from all the kisses that he was planting along your jawline and neck. He pulled your hands that were stroking his chest to interlock with his fingers as he used your momentary confusion to push you onto your bed and hover over you in one clumsy but simultaneously smooth maneuver.

He was reveling in this side of you that you were showing. It was chaotic, it was vulnerable and most of all, it was so beautiful. His hands release yours as he finds interest in playing with your breasts. He takes hold of your left breast and squeezes it as you whine and twist your head into the pillows at his teasing and the lack of attention that was being paid to your areas down south. You pull at the white strands of his hair you had slid your fingers into and he groans into your skin making you shudder. He opens his lips to the side of your neck that you gave space to and bites down as a response to your own roughness. The moan that escapes your mouth makes you want to hide in embarrassment as he chuckles into the mark he was leaving.

Your chest was heaving, as your hands grab at the sheets next to you instead to find some kind of stability among the fireworks that his touch was leaving. “Gojo-” you started, lifting your head from the pillow, to see him smirking at you. He moves down towards your stomach and thighs, making sure to kiss the curves and edges and taking note of the areas he kissed and you moaned at. “I will kill you if you don’t stop teasing.” You drop back onto the pillow again, not being able to hold for too long as his fingers stroke your inner thighs, taking off the last article of clothing you had on.

He leans forward, looking at you with your eyes fluttering shut and fidgeting around his hold on you. “Aw, cute,” he says, stroking your thighs and brushing his fingertips around your clit, not touching it but making it more sensitive than you would have ever imagined. “You can still threaten me looking like this.” You push your head deeper into the pillows at the sensation of the butterfly kisses he was placing on your inner thighs and sucking at the sensitive skin to leave his marks yet again.

“I swear to God-” you plead, threading your hands into his hair again. “Patience, pretty,” he says, lifting his head from between your legs to allow his fingers to take their place and rub at your clit in tiny circles. You gasp and have the urge to shut your legs but he has one of his legs secured between yours and you really wanted him to keep going too. “Think you’re ready for me?” he asks, running his index and middle finger along the outer area of your slits.

you nod at him, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth. You were getting hazy from circles he was drawing on your clit with his middle finger and moving it down to tease your entrance.

“Words, love,” he says, shifting to lean above you and place a kiss to your lips and chest that was heaving roughly by now.

“I-I’m ready,” you softly reply, looking into his eyes and then at his smile that reminded you that he was your safety and also the person that was going to ruin in the next few minutes.

“Tell me to stop when you want to okay?” He assures you as he slides his fingers between your slits to feel your wetness.

“Mhmm,” is all you can say as you feel his middle finger play around your entrance before finding its way against your walls. You breathe sharply at the feeling of his finger pulling in and out slowly, to explore its way around you. But it was also making you so hot-headed as it hit all the right corners and spaces. He swallows your moans with his lips and tries to steady your body by sucking at your nipples. But it only made your head cloudier and you let go of any control of the sounds that were coming out of you.

Your back arches with an audible whimper escaping your chest at Gojo’s attempt to curl his finger against your walls and he smirks, knowing what he just did. He continues the curling motions and tests your limit by nudging a second finger at your entrance. You yelp at the tight feeling of your walls against his fingers. “Fuck,” you spread your legs wider as a sign of giving in to his movements completely. He was entranced by the pretty sounds coming out of you and the way your hips were moving up and down his fingers trying to chase the knot that was tightening at the bottom of your stomach.

He speeds up the movements of his fingers, moving in and out of you. You let out soft cries at how he wasn’t letting you get a moment of rest between the feeling of his mouth against the sensitive spots on your neck and breasts mixed with the madness that was occurring between your legs. “Gojo, I can’t-” you say in a shaky cry at the way your walls were tightening against his fingers. He pushes you further with his thumb rubbing faster against your clit and you just about lose it, your eyes rolling to the back of your head and a strangled moan leaving your lips

“Hey pretty girl, wanna let go for me?” he whispers as he looks at your desperate eyes. You nod feverishly as he continues his motions, and he hoists one of your legs further apart to rest on his lap. You feel the knot in your stomach getting tighter and the tingling on your clit getting borderline painful. You snap your palm on Gojo’s wrist trying to fight the feeling but he doesn’t relent. And with the next few motions of his fingers curling against you while he bit into your neck a little too rough, you let out a strangled shriek and arch your back as your walls pulsate around his fingers at your orgasm.

He drank in the sight of you panting and your legs shaking from the orgasm. Your eyes were pinched shut and one of your hands had the sheets tightly tucked into your fist and the other was squeezing his wrist that was still pumping his fingers in and out of you to help you ride out your orgasm. He leans forward, in awe and with sense of adoration.

“You good?” he kissed the corner of your mouth and brushed the stray pieces of hair on the sides of your face to place more chaste kisses across your cheeks and moving to your neck. You hiss as he takes his fingers out of you and you are given an apology as he muffles your complaints with his lips pressing against yours. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at Gojo’s now tight pants. You smirk and shift to balance your figure on your elbows to meet his eyes.

You nod at the bulge through his pants. “Do you wanna do something about that or…?” you question reaching out to place your hands against his chest, and push him into sitting back onto the bed as you straddle him.

“I mean…if you can take it,” he laughs, pressing his forehead against yours, and squeezing your hips.

God, this may be a huge mistake or one of the greatest things you guys stumbled upon with each other.

A/N: This is my first attempt at smut so help me oh lords of smut; I hope I didn’t it mess up lol. I also really like this college AU so maybe I’ll continue it, idk.

Alsoo, the header I used here was got from pinterest but if it has sources to someone here on Tumblr, I would love to credit <3

[curlynerd]

What He Wants

Happy gift posting day for @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! My gift recipient is @bipridedean! She requested a Destiel, canon-adjacent fic, so here it is! I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 2.6K Rating: G Summary: 5 times Dean said "I do" and 1 time he didn’t. Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Destiel wedding

Also read it on AO3!

1.

The first time it happens Sam is the only one to hear it. They’re alone in the bunker, surrounded by months and months of tireless research. But finally, finally, Dean thinks they’ve discovered how to get into the Empty.

Dean wants to push through the night and get a portal up and running as soon as possible. Sam insists they both go to bed, pleading with Dean that he won’t be able to concentrate on the spellwork to maintain it without at least a few hours of sleep.

Dean spends most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his head at a hundred miles an hour. This time tomorrow, he could have Cas back. This time tomorrow he can--Dean is almost afraid to think it, afraid that giving form to what he wants will somehow curse it and stop it from ever coming true. After all, the thing he wanted most before this was for Cas to love him back, and that didn’t exactly end rosy.

Still, as Dean finally closes his eyes, he allows himself a small, private wish. He hopes this will be the last time he falls asleep alone.

The next morning, they’re both expecting some sort of bump in the road, some rare ingredient or some missing incantation that will set them back even longer, keep Dean from seeing Cas again for God knows how long. But fortune is on their side, and Sam executes the spell flawlessly.

Dean is armed to the teeth with every weapon and protection spell they could collect on short notice. His plan for finding Cas and dragging him back home sits clearly at the front of his mind. His heart pounds in his ears, fast but steady and strong.

“You know, if this doesn’t work, you could get stuck there. I might not be able to open a new portal.” Sam looks at the pulsating mass of black that serves as the portal to the Empty. Worry is etched deeply into his forehead. “Do you really want to do this?”

Dean thinks of Cas’ face, the way he had smiled as he said he loved him. He thinks of how he was so close to having the one thing he really wanted. How Cas had wanted the same.

There’s no peace in loneliness.

Dean tightens his grip on his angel blade, his jaw set, his eyes determined. He’s ready to get his angel back. “Yeah. I do.”

2.

The second time it happens, it takes Cas by surprise. It’s been a week since Dean heroically pulled the love of his life from the Empty...and also since Dean lost all remaining courage. He choked. His unspoken response to Cas’ confession is a taut tension wire between them, keeping them inches apart, words suffocating in their tightly sealed mouths, both terrified to say anything and risk breaking something that can’t be mended.

Dean hates himself for it. It’s cowardice is what it is. It’s a lifetime of desperately fighting against the things that make him vulnerable. Against wanting things. Against believing anyone could love him. Even with Cas’ confession still crystal clear in his memories, Dean doubts.

He is deep into those self-deprecating thoughts when he finds Cas in the garage, struggling to figure out how to change a flat tire on his truck from a Youtube video.

“Cas? What’re you doing?”

Cas startles and immediately hunches his shoulders in guilt. He wasn’t expecting to be caught. “Dean.” He looks down at the lug wrench in his hand, and Dean can see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to concoct a cover story before he shrugs and gives up the truth. “I was trying to fix the truck.”

“You need to go somewhere? Cuz I can just drive you.” Dean’s heart pounds, his mouth going dry. Cas wouldn’t need to sneak around for a little errand.

Cas shakes his head and confirms Dean’s fears. “I wanted to have it ready. In case I needed to leave.”

“Leave?” Dean repeats, and his blood goes cold.

Cas deflates a little, resigned and sad. “I assume I’ll need to soon.”

“You can’t leave!” ‘Tell him!’ screams in Dean’s mind, but he can’t. He can’t. What if he’s wrong? What if Cas doesn’t love him like that? What if Cas doesn’t love him at all anymore? What if Dean screwed it up by staying silent and Cas realized he deserves to be with someone who can provide a simple answer to “I love you?” What if--

“I don’t want to,” Cas says softly. The pain is evident in his eyes as they flicker to his truck, like he expects to need to book it out of here at any moment. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here after--” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he amends.

“Cas, this is your home, same as me and Sam.” Cas doesn’t look so convinced. “C’mon man, you really think we don’t want you around?” Dean leans against the side of Cas’ truck to ground himself. “Cas, I want you here.” ‘I want more than that,’ he thinks, and it would be so easy to say what he really needs to say, but he can’t. He fights viciously with his own self-esteem, ripping at it, begging it to let him say more. “Please don’t leave,” he says, small and helpless, and it’s like moving a mountain to say that much.

Cas’ expression softens into longing. His hand clenches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out to Dean, but he smiles a soft, incredulous smile. “I can stay? You really mean it?”

Dean swallows thickly. A hundred words crowd his throat, fighting to get out, but his own fears win this round and keep them down. Instead all he can manage is a choked, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

3.

The third time it happens, it takes them both by surprise. They’d gone on a hunt, just the two of them while Sam was visiting Eileen, and everything had gone sideways. What they thought was just a troublemaking demon turned out to be an extremely powerful witch, one with more than enough experience in Enochian magic to put Cas in serious danger. And of course Cas was reckless in his desire to protect Dean, and only managed to avoid getting killed by quick thinking and, to be honest, a helluva lot of luck.

The fight left Cas injured, and Dean pissed. “What the hell were you thinking!” he scolds at the end of a cold, silent drive back to the bunker.

“I did what I needed,” Cas shoots back with a steely glare.

“No, you didn’t need to go rushing in like that!” Dean’s worry leeches out as anger, the fear of losing Cas yet again clouding his reasoning that Dean himself would have died without Cas’ quick action. “You could have gotten a lot more hurt!”

“Why does it even matter to you?” Cas yells back, and it’s the note of hysterical bitterness darkening his words that makes Dean snap and say what he’s been hiding for far too long.

“Because I love you, you stubborn ass!”

The words freeze in the air between them, sharp and strong, wedging themself right where Dean’s anger was just a moment ago.

“You...love me?” Cas asks, his voice small, his eyes big.

And like that, Dean’s fears seem so foolish. Cas loves him. Cas died because just admitting he loves him was the happiest moment of his life. Cas has already done the hardest, scariest part for him. Dean doesn’t even have to fear Cas not feeling the same.

Silently, Dean takes a single step forward. Cas is frozen on the spot, staring at him like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He takes another step, and another, until he’s close enough to reach out and tug Cas into an embrace.

“Of course,” Dean breathes. He holds Cas close, tucking his chin over his shoulder and squeezing tight, like he never wants to let go. He doesn’t ever want to let go. Cas is slower to react, but when his arms finally wind around Dean, he breathes out a soft, sobbing gasp and clings to Dean. Dean turns his head to bury his nose in Cas’ hair. “Of course I do.”

4.

The fourth time it happens, Cas doesn’t even hear it. Cas found out about a nearby crafts fair, and all it took was one particularly soulful look from those big blue eyes of his, and Dean was driving them a full hour and a half away to look at homemade pottery and local honey and overpriced tacky mesh wreaths and pretending that the entire atmosphere of the place wasn’t giving him hives.

Cas is having a blast. Dean is carrying bags and lurking in the shadiest spots he can find away from the summer heat while Cas browses. Cas is having an animated conversation about beekeeping with a honey merchant when Dean ducks into a large tent filled with the kind of flowy, bedazzled, polyester shirts he thinks of as “PTA Chic” because they also happen to have a large fan blowing.

“Lookin’ for something in particular, sugar?” The tent owner saunters over to Dean, her Southern accent thick and her top scandalously low. She’s stunningly pretty, and Dean’s eyes and smile light up out of a lifetime of habit. She responds in kind, dragging her eyes down, then back up Dean’s body. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lookin’ for more than clothes.”

Dean chuckles and flashes her his best charming, but chagrined smile. He feels a little guilty for leading her on, and he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Oh sweetheart, if I were single, I’d gladly take you up on that offer, but I’ve already got my special someone.” Dean nods to the honey booth next door.

Her eyes trail over to where Dean gestured, and for a split second her brow furrows in confusion before she laughs just a little, more incredulous than cruel. “You really want someone like that over me?”

Dean looks over at Cas. And, yeah, Dean gets the question. He’s a grown-ass man wearing cargo shorts, carrying a canvas bag with the most obnoxious sunglasses-wearing beach ball Dean has ever seen, and his hair looks like it's been electrocuted. Dean grins, feeling a rush of fondness for his dorky, criminally unfashionable angel.

“Yeah,” he says softly, without an ounce of hesitation. There’s no one else in the world for him but Cas. “Yeah, I do.”

5.

The fifth time Dean says it, Cas is the only other person around for miles. He drags Cas out of bed bright and early one Saturday, forcing him into the car before he’s even fully finished his coffee. Cas allows it, only because he can tell Dean is positively vibrating with nervous energy. Dean brushes off all of his prying questions during the long drive until they finally arrive at a small, peaceful meadow in the middle of nowhere.

He’s packed a lunch, because ostensibly this outing is meant to be a picnic, even though Cas is suspicious on that fact alone. Dean never picnics. It doesn’t really matter though, because Dean is too nervous to even consider eating.

“So why are we really here?” Cas asks after a few minutes of nibbling at his chips. Dean’s sandwich lays untouched on the blanket.

Dean steels his nerve and takes a deep breath. “Do you know where this is?” he asks, fighting the jittery bouncing of his heartbeat to keep his voice steady.

Cas nods. “This is where I returned when Jack resurrected me.” He looks around, smiling down at the flowers surrounding the two of them. The windmill behind him creaks softly in the wind.

“And where I spread your ashes.” Dean’s fidgeting fingers find a frayed edge on the blanket, and he starts picking at it.

Cas nods again and remains silent, patiently waiting for Dean to find the rest of his words.

“And it’s…” Dean pulls a thread out of the blanket and lets it fly away in the wind. “This is where I realized I love you. I’m an idiot who didn’t even realize how much I loved you until after you were gone.”

Cas leans forward and rests his hand on Dean’s knee, warm and reassuring. Dean continues, “At the time I’d thought, ‘I can’t do this. I don’t want to live without him.’ Which was stupid because you were already dead. It didn’t matter what I wanted.”

Cas squeezes his knee. His eyes are gentle. “We’re both okay now.”

Dean’s heart warms. “Yeah. We are. But you know I...That feeling’s never gone away. You and me? I want us to be forever.” Dean reaches into his pocket. There’s no small velvet box, no shimmering diamonds, just a thick band of practical silver he found at a pawn shop. He looks down at the ring with a tender smile. “Man, never in a million years did I think I’d ever be doing this,” he marvels, and when he looks up, Cas’ eyes are wide with surprise.

“Dean?” His normally steady voice wavers.

Dean reaches for Cas’ face, his thumb gently stroking across his cheek. He holds up the ring. “What do you say, Cas? Wanna go legit about this?”

Cas’ expression is impossibly soft, eyes overflowing with love and devotion. He swallows thickly around a lump in his throat and takes the ring from Dean. He slides it onto his finger and stares at it like it’s his own personal miracle.

“You’re serious, Dean? You really want to get married?”

Dean smiles as he leans in close. Just before he kisses his new fiance, he whispers, “Of course I do.”

6.

The sun is setting, casting long shadows down the sand. The shifting winds coming from the sea carry a chill, making the little crowd gathered around them draw their jackets close and huddle together, but the smiles on their faces are nothing but warm. There’s no altar. No stage. No decorations. Just Cas and Dean, standing in front of the ocean, wearing their favorite flannels and jeans, two bright yellow black-eyed susans pinned to their shirts--stolen right out of someone’s garden on their way to the beach.

They didn’t even bother trying to put out chairs for the ceremony, not knowing how many of their friends and family would be able to make the long drive to see Dean get hitched to his angel, but in the end it’s a good thing, because damn near everyone came, and they need to crowd in close to hear them over the wind.

It’s completely and utterly perfect.

Dean grins, unable to take his eyes off Cas while Donna, the only member of his overly-emotional family he trusts not to bawl her eyes out through the ceremony, finishes the last of their vows.

“Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your, well, not so lawfully wedded husband?”

There’s a twitter of laughter from the crowd. Cas smiles a sweet, crooked smile and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I do.” His voice is soft, meant for Dean’s ears only, because Dean is the only one his promise matters to.

“And do you, Dean Winchester, FBI’s Most Wanted, thrice dead criminal, and the terribly generous gentleman who will surely be covering our drinks on this celebratory evening, take Castiel to be your husband?”

Dean looks at Cas. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, his eyes are impossibly blue. His smile is so warm Dean knows he’ll never feel cold again, so long as he can see it every day. Dean beams back and proclaims loud enough for everyone on the beach to hear, “Oh hell yes!”

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

I hate love, but...

Pietro Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: When you and Pietro met, it was right from the get go. However, love has done you wrong before and you have a hard time accepting that Pietro isn’t going to drop you and he’s more than willing to prove you that he’s staying.

Pairing: Pietro Maximoff x Reader

Word count: 2.7k

Author’s note: I wrote this in a few hours. I didn’t beta read, I don’t have beta readers to do it for me. Have fun.

Life moves fast with Pietro. He had kissed you when you said yes to a date because he got excited. He ended up in your bed after said date and didn’t leave for about a week. When he finally left, he asked you to be his girlfriend. It wasn’t intended. Pietro was just easily excitable and in touch with his feelings. He knew from the start that you were special but you aren’t as excitable as him. You’ve had your run-ins with love up to the point that it isn’t in the stars for you to end up with a partner. When you said yes to being Pietro’s girlfriend, you were already thinking of a way out that would leave you with the least amount of pain but nothing worked. You tried ghosting him but he’d just be at your door the second he thought you were taking too long to respond. You tried being rude but he chalked it up to you having a bad day and took care of you. You tried to flirt with coworkers to make sure he’d leave before you fell for him but he just swooped you away and asked if you wanted his attention that bad. No, nothing worked and now you’re over the edge. You’re falling and you don’t have a parachute but for the first time in forever, you are not scared of the landing. You’re not even sure if there will be a landing.

Two months in and Pietro spends more time at your place than he does at his room in the compound. When he’s done with work, he’s right at your doorstep. You feel like you’re happier. You know for a fact that you’re smiling more because your cheeks hurt almost every night when you go to sleep. Your hands are never cold because he’s always holding them and your bed is never empty, except for the times you fall asleep on the couch together. ‘Prinţesă?’ Pietro cranes his neck so he can meet your eyes as you sit in your reading chair. For the past hour, he tried to nap while you read. He never accomplishes his mission to nap unless you lay with him but he tries nonetheless. Most times, his napless rest ends up in him overthinking. He often overthinks prior decisions and actions. So, more often than not, Pietro’s napless naps end up in discussions about life or assuring him that he did well in the past. You are prepared to talk to him as you always are. You close your book and lay it on the armrest of your chair. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Hypothetically speaking, would you want to meet my sister if I asked you to?’ ‘If I said yes, would you actually let me meet her?’ A smile appears on his face as he lays back down. ‘She’s already on her way.’ He peeks at you, watching how your face turned from a cocky smile to fear. To be fair, your apartment is a mess and you want to make a good impression. ‘Don’t worry, prinţesă, she’ll love you,’ he assures you, ‘besides, she’s not staying. She’s just bringing over some clothes I left at the tower.’ You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and grin. ‘Clothes hm? I can’t remember asking you to move in,’ you tease him. He motions for you to come over to him. As you get up from your chair, he grabs your hand and yanks you on top of him. You squeal when he does and gently hit his chest while you laugh it off. ‘You didn’t have to ask,’ he tells you, ‘I could tell you wanted me to stay.’ ‘You’re such an asshole,’ you smile and press your lips against his. His arms wrap around your body, holding you steady against him. Your hands move up into his hair. For some reason, they always end up there. His hair is just so soft and fluffy. But the blissful moment is short-lived. The ringing of the doorbell puts a quick end to the whole ordeal as you and Pietro exchange looks. Do you do it or me? ‘I can’t open the door if you’re on top of me,’ he tells you. ‘Oh, so you are going to open the door when I get off,’ you ask as you push yourself up. ‘That wouldn’t be logical because you would already be up,’ he explains to you. ‘Just say you’re lazy.’ ‘I’m lazy.’ You shake your head and get off the couch. ‘I’ll make it up to you.’ ‘You better,’ you warn him as you head over to the door and then it hits you. He wants you to open the door for his sister. How would she know who you were if he didn’t show her or tell her about you? ‘Oh you sly motherfucker,’ you mumble under your breath. Suddenly, you feel his hot breath on your neck. ‘Say that again and I’ll make sure you can’t walk tomorrow.’ ‘Your sister is at the door,’ you tell him, ‘you better behave.’ He shrugs and walks back to the couch. ‘She knows how I am. I have nothing to worry about.’ You watch him belly flop onto the couch and finally open the door. There stands a woman who looks nothing like Pietro. She’s shorter, a redhead, and just looks like a total badass. Now you’re kinda intimidated. ‘Hi, I’m so sorry for taking so long,’ you say with a smile. ‘That’s alright. You must be Y/n, right?’ You nod and shake her hand. ‘I’m Wanda. I’ve heard a lot about you.’ Pietro jumps up from the couch. ‘Don’t tell her that,’ he yells at Wanda. ‘Shut up Sonic,’ she snaps back and throws the duffel bag she carried towards him. He catches it with ease but pretends to be hurt by letting out a low grunt and falling back onto the couch. She turns back to you. ‘Can I come in?’ ‘Of course.’ You step aside and watch as Pietro’s face changes. He looks slightly terrified of his sister as she steps inside. ‘What? You’ve been gone for two whole months and I don’t know the girl you’re living with. If you thought I was just going to drop off your clothes and leave, you’re insane,’ she tells him and sits down on your reading chair. ‘Wanda, would you like tea or coffee?’ ‘No, thanks. I’ll be out of your hair soon. I just want to have a small heart-to-heart talk with my brother if you don’t mind.’ ‘Oh, of course.’

A month slowly crept by and Pietro never told you what they discussed in that heart-to-heart talk. All you knew was that Pietro was sulking for a while after Wanda left. You decided to give him space and try not to pry, thinking it was him finally pulling away from you and leaving you to crash from your fall for him. Maybe Wanda made him see you’re not a good candidate to be a girlfriend for a man like him. And yet, it didn’t feel right. ‘Pietro, can we talk?’ You watch the fear flicker behind his eyes as you sit down on the couch next to him. He turns his body so that you are facing each other and nods. You take a deep breath but before you can speak he asks: ‘Are you breaking up with me?’ ‘Wha-what?’ ‘You’ve been so distant and I thought-’ ‘Wait, no, I thought you were going to break up with me.’ He frowns. ‘Why would I do that? You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me.’ ‘Then why have you been so quiet?’ He doesn’t have a quick answer ready and though his words made your heart swell just a second ago, the silence is chipping away at it. ‘I’m not sure,’ he admits to you, ‘I guess I’ve been thinking more. About where I want this to go.’ ‘Did you figure it out yet?’ He shakes his head. ‘I do know that I want you to meet my family,’ he tells you, ‘the Avengers.’

You never expected you could be this nervous on an elevator. Not because you’re nervous to meet the Avengers. No, because Pietro keeps fiddling and telling you things he’s said a million times by now. ‘Tony has probably already done a background check on you so he’ll have some questions. You’re a woman so you don’t have to worry about intimidation from Captain America but I would worry about Natasha and Clint. They have taken Wanda and me in like they’re our parents. And-’ You press your lips against his and smile. ‘I know. I’ll be fine,’ you promise him and lace your fingers through his, ‘we’ll be fine.’ He smiles and nods confidently. The elevator door opens and you see a few people scattered around a fancy-looking room that has a bag, big cozy couches, a pool table, multiple other places to sit, and floor-to-ceiling windows. And the ceilings are pretty damn high. ‘Wow.’ ‘Ah, thanks, kid.’ You look in front of you to see Tony Stark approaching you. You show him a friendly smile and nod. ‘I’m Tony.’ You shake his hand. ‘Y/n Y/l/n but I’m certain you already knew that.’ ‘I did,’ he admits, ‘and Pietro probably already told you about me.’ You nod. ‘Lucky for you, I don’t have any questions for you. You seem to have a pretty cut and dry life.’ You stifle a laugh and nod. ‘Well, let’s meet the others.’ He offers you his arm but you decline and take Pietro’s arm instead. He nods at the gesture and shows you to the couches. ‘Everyone, this is Y/n Y/l/n, Pietro’s girlfriend,’ Tony announces to the group, ‘that’s Thor, Steve, Sam, Bucky, Natasha, Bruce, and Clint. You already know Wanda, right?’ You nod. After the talk you and Pietro had, Wanda came over again and stayed the night to talk you up to speed with some of the characters living at the compound. Just to prepare you a little. It had just been one day but she was so welcoming. ‘Nice to meet you,’ you say with a timid smile. Pietro shows you to a place to sit. You’re lodged between Wanda and Pietro. ‘So how’d you two meet,’ Natasha asks. ‘Oh, we bumped into each other in the park,’ you tell her, ‘he made me drop my coffee so he told me he’d buy me a new one to make up for it and at the end of the encounter I had his number and he had asked me on a date.’ You leave out the part of the kiss, just in case, Pietro feels a bit strange about it. It was a strange encounter. ‘Ain’t that adorable,’ Natasha grins, ‘first kiss?’ You look at Pietro who shrugs. ‘Does that mean he can’t remember or you don’t want to tell,’ Clint asks you. Wanda chuckles. She knows. She must know. Pietro probably told her. After all, she was the only one who knew about you all this time. ‘Well, I...’ Pietro looks at you again and then at the group. ‘I asked her out and I got a bit excited when she said yes-’ ‘You kissed her right after you asked her out?!’ You have never seen Pietro turn this red. Not even after that first kiss when he realized what he had done. You feel like you have to step in. ‘Just to be clear, I didn’t mind.’ Your eyes meet Pietro’s once again. He smiles back at you and a thought pops into his head. A thought he couldn’t prepare for and one that didn’t leave his mind the whole night. “This is it. This is who I’m meant to be with.”

Your head rests on Pietro’s chest, one arm and one leg thrown over his body, while he traces meaningless patterns on your arm. You’ve had a long day meeting the Avengers and answering all kinds of strange questions. You were glad you had Pietro by your side but as of now, you’re both tired yet unable to sleep. Pietro stares at the ceiling, seemingly deeply lost in thought while you admire his face. From the slight stubble on his chin to the moles and freckles on his skin. You try to memorize all of them. That is until you see him frown. ‘What’s on your mind?’ You ask but you are terrified of the reply. ‘Us.’ ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ He shakes his head and you feel your heart drop but you don’t move away. He has given you no reason to. ‘No, I just want to tell you something.’ You roll onto your stomach and rest your head on your hands, looking up at him as he moves back against the headboard a little so he can look at you while he’s talking. Something in the pit of your stomach is telling you that this is the make-or-break moment in your relationship. He either tells you he loves you now or breaks it off but he’s dragging the silence. He watches your eyes as they stare up at him filled with hope in the dim light of your shared bedroom. Soft moonlight falls through the sheer curtains of your bedroom. He always thought that was adorable, that you didn’t want thick curtains because you enjoyed waking up to sunlight. It’s something he didn’t think he’d enjoy but he does. In fact, almost everything you enjoy, he enjoys. Over just a few months, he learned to take things slow. He learned that he didn’t have to be awake every second of every day, that he didn’t always have to do things fast. You would read to him and he enjoyed it. He was able to really take in the words you read to him instead of rushing through the book like he usually does. Cooking with you is a domestic dream come through. It is never sexual in the kitchen, you take cooking too seriously for that, but the dinner table is a whole different story. And that’s another thing he learned to take slow. Sex. Making love. He never imagined sex and making love would be such different things from each other and with you, he learned that he had never made love before. When he would lay you down on your bed, he would take his time taking in every spot, every crevis, every mark on your body. He takes his sweet time with you and he loves every moment of it. In fact, ‘I love you,’ he states proudly, ‘and I don’t need another few years to figure out that I want a future with you. I want to wake up next to you every day for the rest of my life. I want to start a family with you and grow old together… You’re it for me.’ ‘Wow.’ You smile meekly, not quite sure how to respond. This is not at all what you thought he was going to say. ‘I didn’t know you thought about us like that.’ ‘How do you think about us?’ You take a second to think of your response and you watch him getting nervous like you had gotten before he spoke. ‘You know, I used to hate love before I met you,’ you tell him, ‘I had been broken so many times that I thought I would never find someone for me but then you ran into me and there was this spark. I had never felt that before and I was scared it was just me but you proved me time and time again that you felt it too. And I still fear that you might wake up one day and realize that I am not what you thought I was.’ He gently grabs your chin and lowers his face to brush his lips against yours. ‘That will never happen.’ You pull away, leaving him confused and a little scared. ‘I wasn’t done.’ A smile appears on your face. ‘I hate love, but I’ll make an exception for you.’ A bright smile appears on his face as he leans down to press a seething kiss to your lips. ‘I love you.’

Life moves fast with Pietro but you don’t mind.

[jungshookz]

cee cee i have an idea!!! what about Cool and Cultured bookshop owner! tae and dorky y/n walking past the store everyday and one day goes in and strikes a conversation about a fancy book like catcher in the rye and talks about the symbolism of rye in the book and tae's like :0 das wildly inaccurate but you're kinda cute so here's my number so we can talk more about rye and y/ns like :0

➺ pairing; kim taehyung x reader

➺ genre; wowowow handsome & well-read bookkeeper!taehyung, fluff!!!! the kind of fluff that makes you feel like you’re wrapped up in a warm blanket sipping on a mug of hot chocolate on a nice autumn’s day when the leaves are just starting to turn red and orange, y/n’s kind of a dummy but in a very loveable kind of way, featuring namjoon the (sort of) wingman

➺ wordcount; 6.2k

➺ summary; the catcher in the rye? oh, sure - of course you know that book! it’s about catching loaves of bread, right?

➺ what to expect; “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

➺ note; our (first??) drabble of the month as voted by you guys! i finished writing this the day after it was decided that bookkeeper!tae was the winner because that’s how excited i was about him >:-) enjoy! 

                                        »»————-　➴　————-««

“and… open your eyes!” you exclaim, throwing your arms up into the air excitedly as namjoon takes his hands away from his eyes

he blinks owlishly before looking up and-

“you brought me to a bookstore!” he gasps, a smile immediately spreading over his features as he claps his hands together, “oh, this is great! usually, you bring me to those awful rock-climbing places, or that horribly violent paintball gun place, and even when you brought me to the movie theatre the tickets were for that gory r-rated horror movie-”

“okay, let’s not get carried away-” you hold a finger out to shut namjoon up before he can list out moRe reasons as to why you seem more like you hate him instead of love him, “the point is: this time, i brought you to a bookstore!” you smile proudly before crossing your arms

not to toot your own horn or anything but you did a pretty good job with this surprise

you even did tons of research to find the best bookstores in the city!!

which was difficult because namjoon’s been to like.,,. EVERY bookstore in the city

but not this one!

to be fair, it was a long forty-five minute car ride to get here so you understand why he’s never come out here himself

“…this isn’t like… a weird bookstore or anything, right?” namjoon narrows his eyes in suspicion before taking a step back and looking up at the name of the store again

the secret garden

oh!!!!

like the book!!!!

how clever :D

“what do you mean?” you frown, placing your hands on your hips before glancing back up at the name as well

the secret garden

hm

kind of a lame name for a bookstore

“like a…” namjoon trails off before clearing his throat, “you know, like a bookstore that’s actually a sex dungeon or something like that-”

“ew!” you immediately make a face before shaking your head quickly, “wha- why would you even say that?!”

“well, i don’t know!” namjoon holds his hands up in defence, “i’ve never been to this bookstore before-!”

“this is a regular ol’ bookstore, joon. i promise!” you clap your hands on his shoulders before giving him a squeeze, “just the way you like it! old, dusty, and full of nothing but boring books.”

namjoon beams

that’s exactly what he likes to hear

see, today is your seven year friendaversary with namjoon

you guys have known each other since middle school and noW the two of you are in your final year of university which is crazy

and so, for the past seven years, you’ve gone out on this day to celebrate your beautiful friendship because honestly you’ll take whatever excuse to go to a restaurant to try to get free dessert (“yeah, we’re celebrating our anniversary! so, i’ll take three orders of your chocolate lava cake-”)

you guys usually take turns where one year one of you will plan an entire day of fun activities for the other, and then the next year, the other person will do it because that seems like a relatively fair system

last year, namjoon took you to this cute pottery place and you ended up making these adorable matching friendship mugs

they’re both a little lopsided but that’s just part of their charm!!

namjoon painted his a beige-brown and you painted yours a BRIGHT purple and then you traded mugs (so that when he comes over to your apartment, he has his mug, and when you go over to his apartment, you have your mug!)

he also insisted that you guys carve your guys’ initials on the bottom of yours and draw a heart around it which you thought was a little much but you are… very fond of namjoon so you’d jump off a cliff if he asked you to

admittedly, most of the things that you’ve planned during your years have been catered to your own personal desires so you’ve been a little unfair but namjoon’s always been too much of a sweetheart to say anything about it

and for the most part, he’s a pretty good sport even though it’s blatantly obvious that he’d rather chop a toe off than spend the afternoon doing your chosen activity

the last time it was your turn two years ago, you took him to a go-cart track and spent the entire two hours practically driving circles around him because he was driving like ten kilometres an hour

the only reason why he wasn’t driving like one is supposed to drive on a go-cart track (i.e. like a maniac) is because he was worried that if he went too fast he’d get a ticket or something

and kim namjoon does not get speeding tickets

not on the real road and most certainly not on a man-made road either!

for the record, he definitely didn’t appreciate you calling him a slowpoke and telling him to eat my dust, bitch! and he still brings it up from time to time whenever he wants to guilt you into doing something with him (“i’m not switching muffins with you. it’s not my fault you don’t like yours!” “…hey, remember that time you called me a slowpoke and told me to-”  “take the muffin.”)

anyways

he’s glad that this is just a normal bookstore and that he doesn’t have to worry about whether or not one of your activities is going to end in him losing a limb for the first time

what a wonderful way to end the day!!

actually, you guys still have to grab dinner after this where you’ll try to squeeze as many free desserts out of the restaurant as possible as per usual so this is a wonderful way to almost end the day

the little bell hanging above the door chimes as the two of you step in and almost immediately you’re greeted with the warm smell of what you’re pretty sure is hot chocolate??

“i love this place already.” namjoon breathes out, his jaw dropping in awe, “i wanna live here!”

“okay, keep it in your pants-” the door starts to shut and you nudge namjoon forward to keep from getting your butt nipped by the door

you don’t even get a chance to say anything else before namjoon suddenly darts off

so much for keeping it in his pants

you pause when you get a good look at the place

huh

for some reason you feel like a lot of instagram pictures have been taken here

it’s obviously an antique place but it’s like one of those trendy antique places

a brass chandelier hangs from the ceiling, the (fake) candles casting a golden glow over the entire store

there’s a spiral staircase that curls up to the second floor

the walls are covered with floor to ceiling shelves stacked with, duh, books, but even for what you thought would just be a dusty old bookstore… it’s pretty nice in here!

there’s even an archway in the centre of the place that leads to what looks like a pretty cozy reading space for customers which is a nice touch

and there are people sipping on mugs of hot chocolate too!!!

you can’t help but wonder if you need to be reading a book in order to get a mug of cocoa

you like the hot chocolate part but you’re not as excited about the reading part

“y/n, come on!” you look over to see namjoon - who already has three books cradled in his arms - waving you over enthusiastically, “check it out! it’s a vintage boxed set of the chronicle of narnia series! and they’re leatherbound-“ he practically moans before nudging you towards it, “help me take it out?”

“narnia?” you snort, tilting your head so you can look at the titles pressed into the spine of the book, “isn’t narnia, like… for kids?”

the last time you read the lion, the witch, and the wardrobe was when you had to read it for a book report in like the fourth grade

you glance over your shoulder to look at namjoon who now has an unimpressed frown on his face

“what??”

“…you insult me.” he sniffles, “just help!”

you roll your eyes playfully before turning back to pull the thick set out of the shelf and-

“hello!”

“-!”

the sudden sound of a stranger’s voice nearly makes you drop the set but you manage to prop the edge of the box back up onto the shelf before it falls and breaks all the bones in your foot

you turn to look at whoever-

oh my

hello indeed

“welcome to the secret garden.” he smiles kindly, tilting his head at you, “did you need any help with that, miss?”

oh good god

his voice makes you feel like you’re wading through a river of warm caramel

and you’d happily let yourself drown in that river

two seconds go by where you don’t respond at all and instead you continue staring at mr. caramel with very obvious hubba-hubba eyes

“i think we’re good, thank you!” namjoon clears his throat, elbowing your back gently before offering a smile of his own

“oh, alright! well, my name’s taehyung,” taehyung reaches up to adjust his glasses, “please let me know if you need assistance of any kind - i’ll just be up at the front. if you’re just here to relax and read, i’d be happy to whip up two mugs of hot chocolate for the two of you!”

“awesome! thank you.” namjoon nods all while you continue smiling at taehyung dazedly

he waits until taehyung disappears before turning back and looking at you

“…what’s wrong with you?”

“i’m good, thank you…” you whisper your very delayed response and namjoon moves his head so that he’s blocking your view when you lean back a little to try to look at taehyung sitting behind the front counter, “holy moly. i’d let him explore my secret garden-”

“oh, now look who can’t keep it in their pants-“

“hey, you should look at this as a good thing!” you grunt as you adjust the hefty box in your arms, “now i’ll willingly drive you back here… whenever you want.”

namjoon’s eyes immediately light up

                                         »»————-　➴　————-««

you and namjoon end up returning to the bookstore about two weeks later

last time, namjoon wanted to stay longer (and so did you, honestly) buT you were pretty close to losing your dinner reservations and you weren’t about to give up your free chocolate lava cake just to stare at the cute bookkeeper from afar like a creep

so you had to leave!

namjoon ended up leaving with the boxed set and a couple other books so suffice to say, he was pretty happy

and when you suggested visiting the bookstore again this week… well, namjoon had to jump on that opportunity, didn’t he??

you?? offering to take him to a bookstore?? again??

you’re obviously only using him as an excuse to go into the bookstore so you can spend hours watching taehyung like a weirdo but he’ll take it

namjoon hums happily as he takes a sip of his hot chocolate before licking a little bit of whipped cream off his top lip

he wonders if taehyung would be willing to share the recipe to it because this is honestly the best hot chocolate he’s ever had

namjoon looks up from his book when he hears you let out a sigh for the tenth time in the last two minutes

oh god

look at you!

“oh… and he’s good with kids, too?” you sigh blissfully as you prop your elbow up on the arm of the sofa chair before leaning your cheek against your fist

you watch fondly as taehyung gets down on one knee, holding two fists out for a little girl

she taps his right hand shyly before quickly wrapping her arms back around her mom’s leg, peeking at him from behind it shyly 

taehyung flips his wrist around and uncurls his fingers to reveal a single caramel, his face lighting up briefly as she takes it from his open palm into her little hand 

“i don’t know why you can’t just go up and talk to him-” namjoon snorts at how lovestruck you look before peering around the corner of the archway to look at taehyung too, “it’s not a big deal. he’s really nice!”

“i can’t just go up and talk to him. are you kidding me?” you frown, shaking your head, “what am i supposed to say??”

“tell him you need help finding a book!” namjoon states as if it’s the most obvious thing in the entire world (because it is) before slapping the book on his lap shut, “just out of curiosity - what book would you ask him to help you find?”

you lean back against the sofa chair before twisting your lips in thought

hm

book?

what book…

what was the last book you read…?

ooh!

“esio trot!” you perk up, namjoon’s eyebrows knitting together in confusion because he has no idea what just came out of your mouth-

“esio- oh my god, esio trot as in the roald dahl children’s novel??” namjoon frowns, “no! you can’t go up to taehyung and ask him to help you find esio friggin’ trot-”

“okay, you don’t see me making fun of you for buying what you bought last week, mr. chronicles of narnia-”

“you did make fun of me!” namjoon gawks, “in fact, you’re still making fun of me for it-” he waves his hand to cease the conversation, “listen to me. from the very few times that i’ve spoken to taehyung, it’s clear that he’s… cultured, you know?”

“cultured… like yogurt.” you joke, slapping your own knee gently, “get it?? because yogurt is cultured? cultured yogurt??”

namjoon resists the urge to roll his eyes

see?

this is exactly what he’s talking about

“…yes, y/n. i get it. anyways, as i was saying- taehyung is just very…” namjoon kisses his teeth as he tries to think of how to phrase his words, “…well-read… intelligent… scholarly… refined…”

you tilt your head in curiosity as namjoon continues listing out a bunch of snooty sounding adjectives

wait a minute

“are you-” you scoff, straightening up in your seat, “are you calling me dumb??”

hey!!

you’re not dumb!!!

it’s not like books are super complicated to figure out or anything

all you have to do is read what’s inside of it and you certainly know how to read!!!

and sure, sometimes you still don’t know if receive is spelt receive or recieve or if business is spelt buisness or biusness, but that doesn’t mean that you’re dumb!!

“no, no, i’m not calling you dumb!” namjoon shakes his head quickly, “i’m just saying that if you had a choice, you would choose a movie over a book-”

“well, yeah - obviously i would choose a movie over a book.” you snort, “why would i waste eight hours reading tiny little words on stiff white pages when i could be watching a movie that compresses the entire story in a convenient one hour and a half??”

“i’m your friend, and i don’t want to watch you make a fool of yourself!” namjoon argues, “because if you do, then you’ll be too embarrassed to ever come back here again, which means that i’ll never be able to come back here again-”

“what’s stopping you from coming here by yourself?”

“because every time i tell you that i’m going to the bookstore, you’re going to ask me a bunch of taehyung related questions when i get back-”

okay

that’s a fair point

that sounds like something you would do for sure

“alright, fine!” you huff before crossing your arms, “what book do you suggest i go up there and ask him to help me find?”

namjoon twists his lips in thought

hm…

“catch her in the eye!” you chirp, folding your hands behind you book as you smile brightly at taehyung

namjoon feels his own face flush at how confidently you just said that and he immediately slaps a hand over his mouth to keep himself from screaMING

he told you to ask taehyung to help you find the catcher in the rye

NOT CATCH HER IN THE EYE

“the catcher in the rye?” taehyung nods, “sure! of course i can help you find the catcher in the rye.” he returns a smile as he steps out from behind the counter, “follow me, please!”

you shoot namjoon a big thumbs up and a faT grin as you pass by the entrance of the archway and he gives you a weak one in return before turning back and slumping against the couch

oh boy

…he’s never going to come back to this beautiful bookstore, is he?

“you were here about two weeks ago, weren’t you?” taehyung asks as he looks over his shoulder, the two of you trotting up the spiral staircase, “with your… boyfriend, right? you guys bought the boxed narnia set.”

“hm? oh!” you let out a little laugh, “yes, that was us, but joon- namjoon’s just my friend. um, that day was actually our seven-year friendaversary and he’s a real dork for books so i thought it’d be nice to bring him here-”

it’s in that moment that you suddenly hear namjoon’s voice in your head reminding you that you’re supposed to act like yoU like reading too

“i mean-” you clear your throat, “i, too, really like books, so i- you know, it was a mutually pleasant experience for the both of us t-to be here-” you chuckle nervously

hopefully you were able to save your own ass there

that was a close call!!

you trail behind taehyung as the two of you weave in and out of the bookshelves

you didn’t get a chance to come up to the second floor last week

but it’s surprisingly nice up here!!  

there’s a lone sofa chair in the corner with a little coffee table sitting next to it

very nice for customers who prefer to read alone

“ah, well, that’s very thoughtful of you!” taehyung nods before suddenly pausing, “i’m so sorry-” he spins around and you nearly bump into his chest but you manage to stop yourself just in time, “i just realised i never got your name.”

“y/n. i’m- i’m y/n.” you stick your hand out quickly for him to shake

you feel a little zap! travel from your fingertips to the rest of your body as soon as taehyung takes your hand in his

he gives you a gentle shake before squeezing your hand lightly and then letting go, “well, it’s very nice to meet you, y/n. now, give me a second to find the catcher in the rye for you…”

taehyung turns to thumb through the books on the shelf and you feel your heart flutter in your chest as how pretty he looks from the side

wowie

you can’t help but take your bottom lip in between your teeth as you continue to admire taehyung’s features from the soft swoosh of his hair to the rosy pink of his lips

how can one man be so pretty?

“ah- here we are!” taehyung pulls a book out of the shelf and you quickly snap yourself out of your daze, “the catcher in the rye… a novel by j.d. salinger.” he hands it to you and you take it before blinking down at the cover

…the catcher in the rye?

what happened to catch her in the eye???

“it’s a great book.” taehyung hums, “have you read it before?”

“oh, i… i have!” you scoff, making a face, “duh, of course i have. i mean, it’s… you know, it’s such a… um, a powerful novel…” you clear your throat before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “i mean, the last time i read it was actually in… high school… so… you know, i’ve forgotten most of the details but i figured it’d be nice to get a refresher, you know?”

(you never read this in high school.)

((you just made namjoon summarise the entire book to you in the form of a poorly drawn stickman comic and even then you still didn’t fully understand the story.))

“absolutely! there’s nothing wrong with revisiting old friend from the past,” taehyung chuckles lightly, “in fact, i was reading animal farm the other day- what kind of literature do you typically read?”

you press your lips together tightly

oh god

namjoon didn’t prepare you for additional questions  

literature??

quick!

what kind of literature do you typically read??

…

tell him you read all kinds of literature!

that sounds like a legitimate answer, right?

“i... read… all-”

you’re cut off by the sound of a bell chiming from below and you let out a breath of relief when taehyung scurries past you to peer over the balcony

“i’ll be right there!” he holds a finger up at the customer waiting by the front counter before spinning around to face you again, “was there anything else you needed, y/n?”

“wha- i-” you stammer, unable to come up with a non-creepy reason to keep him up here with you, “no! no, this was-” you give the front cover a hearty slap, “this was all i needed-”

“perfect!” taehyung claps his hands together, “well, let me know. you know where i am!”  

he disappears down the staircase before you even get a chance to thank him

the smell of his cologne lingers in the air as you make your way down the staircase and you can’t help but beat yourself up over how your interaction with taehyung went

it wasn’t a bad interaction or anything

in fact, you think you did a pretty good job at acting like a bookworm!!

it’s just that…

you don’t think it was a particularly memorable interaction for taehyung

that was just a typical customer interaction for him

you were supposed to charm him!!!

impress him!!

sweep him off his feet!!!

tickle his brain!!

“hey, buddy…” namjoon coos as you plop back down on the sofa chair, “how… did it go?”

he’s afraid to hear your answer because it certainly looks like it didn’t go super well

damnit

he knows this moment is about you but now he’s thinking about how he’ll probably never be able to taste this delicious hot chocolate ever again

“got the book.” you grumble, tossing it onto the coffee table before shaking your head, “i called it catch her in the eye, joon.”

“yeah, i… uh, i heard you.” namjoon nods understandingly, crossing one leg over the other before leaning back against the couch, “i don’t think he heard you say that, though! i mean, he knew what you were looking for right away.”

namjoon knows you well enough to see that you’re currently spiralling down a self-pity hole right now

oh boy

“hey, you know what’ll make you feel better?” he leans forward to give your knee a comforting squeeze

“what?”

“how about i buy this for you so you can read it and fully impress taehyung next time with your newfound knowledge-“ namjoon points to the book you’ve abandoned on the table, “and then we can go for chocolate lava cake!”

your eyes widen slightly

“free chocolate lava cake?”

“no, not free-“ namjoon snorts, getting up from the couch before reaching back to pick up his bag, “i mean, i’ll pay for it. my treat! so, yeah. i guess it’s kinda free for you.”

“that sounds nice!” your frown is almost instantaneously replaced by a grin, “if i get more free things from you just for being sad, i’m going to be sad more often-”

“what?? no! do not pretend to be sad just to get me to pay for things-”

taehyung glances over from the front counter when he hears a twinkly laugh and he can’t help but smile lightly at the sight of you giggling away in the sofa chair

your nose scrunches slightly as you let out a little snort and he presses his lips together to keep himself from beaming too wide

y/n, huh? cute.

                                          »»————-　➴　————-««

(taehyung can’t stop thinking about you and your absurdly cute face.)

                                         »»————-　➴　————-««

it’s another two weeks later that you come back to the secret garden - but this time, you come alone.

and to be honest, you… don’t know if this was a good idea or not

because joon was with you for the last two times and you were definitely using him as a security blanket so now you feel like you’re about to dive into the deep end of the pool without any floaties

you were going to ask if he wanted to come with you but you felt like this was something that you had to do alone

you swallow thickly as you tuck your car keys into your pocket

namjoon can’t be your bookworm wingman forever, right?

the store is almost suspiciously quiet as you step in, the little bell ringing above your head as per usual

your classes ended a little later today which is why you weren’t able to come in the afternoon

pluS you had to find a way to get namjoon to go home without you without raising any eyebrows so that sucked up a little more of your time

you were going to tell him that you were going to stay on campus to study at the library but even you couldn’t believe that

so you told him that you had a group project to work on which was why you couldn’t have dinner with him tonight!

you jump in surprise when the door suddenly slams shut behind you from the breeze

it’s a little chillier now that it’s november but it’s nice that you get to wear cozy cardigans and snuggly sweaters now

“i’ll be right there!”

you hear taehyung’s voice ring out from the second floor and you swallow your nerves as you stand up a little straighter

fake it till you make it, right?

i love books

i love books so much

i love books so much that i would fuck a book if i could!

...okay, maybe not that one.

you glance around the store - there doesn’t seem to be anyone else here

which makes sense because the sign says that the store closes at 7pm on weekdays and it’s…

6:50

wow

so you’RE the asshole who comes into the place ten minutes before closing time

good one!

“so sorry for the wait, i was just-” taehyung pauses on the steps, his face immediately lighting up when he sees you, “oh, y/n!”

“hi!” you chirp before reaching up to scratch the back of your neck, “sorry i came ten minutes before you’re supposed to close… i wanted to come earlier, but i had a thing…”

“oh, don’t even worry about it!” taehyung snorts, tossing the dirty rag over his shoulder, “i was just doing some dusting…”

you feel your mouth go drY as soon as you notice what he’s wearing

he’s wearing a henley tee (except all the buttons are undone and aLso he has his sleeves pushed up to his elbows), dark wash jeans, and a pair of tattered black converse sneakers

it’s just the casualness of it all that makes it so sexy

“so, what can i help you with tonight?” taehyung tosses the rag onto the counter before pushing his glasses back down from the top of his head

he adjusts them slightly before blinking at you and you find it awfully cute that his doe eyes now look a little bigger through the thick lenses

what can he help you with tonight?

…yeah, what can he help you with tonight?

the downside of not telling namjoon about your solo mission is the fact that namjoon’s usually the one who plans every little detail out for you

and you just came here on a whim

you don’t have a plan

you don’t have a plan at all!

your plan was to just come to the bookstore to see taehyung because you wanted to see taehyung

“i…”

“oh, by the way-” taehyung perks up suddenly, “how was your little trip down memory lane with the catcher in the rye?”

the catcher in the rye?

the catcher in the rye!!!

ah! yes!!

that’s definitely something to talk about!

…wait a second

you-

you didn’t read the book

oh god

you had two weeks to read the book and you didn’t read the book

almost immediately you feel your anxiety sPike back up and you can’t help but scold yourself for not bringing namjoon along with you

if namjoon was here, you’d just get him to say all the main points and you’d stand right next to him throwing in the occasional ‘yes, very good point!’ and ‘of course, i completely agree’ every now and then!

“the catcher in the rye!” you blurt out, suddenly aware that you haven’t spoken in like ten seconds, “i- yes! the book was- it was great. i thoroughly enjoyed it. i would definitely read it again!”

“hey, that’s great!” taehyung laughs lightly, “you know- i mean, i have to ask because i always ask this question to people who’ve read it- what do you think the main theme of it is?” taehyung hums, “because i’ve always thought it focused a lot on alienation, you know? i mean, a loss of innocence is obviously another theme, what, with holden wanting to be sheltered from the harshness of adult life- i really think it can actually be seen as some kind of social commentary… like a critique of the superficiality in society-”

“of course, i completely agree!” you nod furiously, “those are very good points-”

“i’m sorry, i’m probably sucking up all the oxygen in the room-” taehyung smiles sheepishly before shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “so what do you think?”

if there was ever a moment for a black hole to appear in the floor and swallow you whole… you’d want for it to happen right now.

actually, you’d want it for it to happen whilst you were driving to the bookstore so that you wouldn’t have even gotten the chance to say hi to taehyung

“i think… well, i… first of all, i agree completely with everything that you just said about aliens and… you know, a loss of innocence and how hard adult life is…” you stumble over your words, your face beginning to flush from how idiotic you probably sound, “i just… i have to talk about my favourite part in the book! you know, the part where holden- holden, that’s the name that you just mentioned- he… he does such a great job at catching those loaves of bread. i thought that part was hilarious.”

you clear your throat at the end of your mini-review

taehyung’s eyes flicker slightly and for a second you think you’re in danger of being called out for obviously noT having read the book but…

he nods slowly and brings his hand up to stroke his chin thoughtfully, “i mean… yeah. i completely agree! that part always gets me! why don’t you go on? i’m interested in hearing more of your thoughts.”  

oh

oh!

hey, would you look at that??

phEW

maybe you’re better at improvising than you thought you were

now knowing that you’re on the right track gives you a booST of confidence and you give yourself a mental pat on the back

you can’t wait to tell namjoon about this

he’s going to be so proud of you!!

you grin before nodding enthusiastically, “of course! i have a lot of thoughts to share on the book. i mean, i personally think it was an interesting choice on the author’s part to choose rye as the main ingredient, because he had… so many other options that he could’ve gone with! and also - did he go with light rye or dark rye?? because throughout the entire novel, he never actually specifies what kind of rye bread he’s referring to-”

taehyung leans back against the counter and crosses his arms, smiling politely as he continues to listen to your rye bread rant

it’s obvious that you definitely didn’t read the book but he was genuinely curious as to what you would be able to pull out of your ass which was why he asked you to go on

he doesn’t think anyone’s ever gone into a full-blown ramble about how the catcher in the rye is actually a narrative on the benefits on rye bread for lil ol’ him before

but, for the record… 

it’s really cute how much effort you’re putting into your analysis to try to impress him

“i’m sorry, i need to- i need to interrupt you-” taehyung giggles, cutting you off right as you’re about to dive into a discussion about the number of loaves holden caught in the novel, “as much as i would love to hear more… everything that’s coming out of your mouth is wildly inaccurate, y/n.”

what

...

oh my god.

“wh-” your throat goes dry and you choke a little, “what?”

“be honest- did you read the book?” taehyung asks flat-out and you feel your cheeks burning up again

uh-oh

“i…”

okay

forget it

you can’t do this anymore!

it’s too stressful!!!!

“…no.” you press your lips together before shooting taehyung a sheepish grin, “there’s no catching loaves of bread in the novel, is there?”

“not even one loaf.”

“oh, god-” you groan quietly, reaching up to cover your hot face with your hands at the realisation that you just very confidently ranted about the importance of rye bread in this novel for the past five minutes, “not even one?!”

mortifying!

absolutely mortifying!!!!

well

it’s time to tell namjoon to find a new favourite bookstore because you are nevER bringing him back here agai-

“hey, it’s totally fine!” taehyung laughs lightly, stepping closer to you so that he can pry your hands away from your flushed face, “i actually think it’s really impressive how long you can go talking about bread-”

“you let me- you knew that i hadn’t read the book yet you let me continue talking about bread-?!” you gawk, taehyung now bursting into a full-blown chortle as he throws his head back, “how could you??”

“i couldn’t help it!!” taehyung wheezes, reaching up to flick a stray tear away, “i’m sorry! i’m sorry, really, i am-”

even when he’s laughing at you, your stomach can’t help but feel fluttery

“you’re lucky you’re pretty-” you snort, shaking your head gently, “otherwise i would be way more mad at you…”

taehyung’s laughs dwindle down into light chuckles and you swallow thickly when he takes a small step closer

“you’re lucky you’re pretty.” he retorts playfully, reaching over to move a strand of hair away from your eyes with his pinky finger, “otherwise i wouldn’t have let you talk my ear off about bread for five whole minutes…”

...he thinks you’re pretty?

“oh yeah?” you challenge, reaching over to jab your finger into his chest

taehyung reaches up to wrap his fingers around your wrist before offering you a particularly boyish smirk, “mm, yeah.”

you don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your lips for a split second and you know it’s way too soon but you really want him to just lean down and kiss you…

“hey, do you like dessert?” taehyung pulls away suddenly before turning to make his way behind the counter

“de- dessert?” you ask dumbly, still a little dazed from... that

what was that?!

“mhm!” tae leans down slightly and flips a couple of switches underneath the counter, the chandelier light shutting off first before the other little lights begin to switch off as well, “there’s a little diner about a block away that makes really good strawberry cheesecakes.”

“i love dessert!” you nod, “and strawberry cheesecake sounds really yummy.”

“good! in that case, would you be interested in sharing a slice of cheesecake with me and perhaps delving deeper into your rye-based analysis?” taehyung teases as he grabs his coat off the back of his chair, his keys jingling in his hands

you snort lightly

“i would love to share a slice of cheesecake with you but i refuse to embarrass myself further, so we’re going to have to find something else to talk about-”

taehyung holds the door open for you and you immediately shiver as you step out, the chilly air a stark contrast from the warmth of tae’s cozy store

you jolt in surprise when taehyung reaches down and slips his fingers in between yours (which he later explains he only did because his hand was cold and definitely noT because he just really really wanted to hold your hand) before beginning to tug you along next to him

“well, we can talk about the fact that you thought the name of the book was catch her in the eye-”

“i knew you heard me! i knew it!!”

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

why don’t you explore the rest of the library while you’re here? 

or perhaps you want something shorter to read?

[sweetkingdomstarlight-blog]

do it so well - part seven

Pairings - Librarian AU Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count - 1189

Warnings - oral (f receiving), sex, breeding kink

A/N - Happy Birthday Eyre @buckyownsmylife I wish I could be there to have cocktails and go dancing but this is the next best thing for now. One day we'll meet and have the best time. I couldn't have created this series without the help of @bestofbucky and @whisperlullaby. The moodboard below was made by the very talented @book-dragon-13. Thanks for reading if you've made it this far, I appreciate every comment, like and reblog.

Series Masterlist

You both walk into the room and look around, Bucky was in here a lot but the sheer amount of books in the law library always made him smile. He took a quick look around while you looked at the shelves, taking in the long titles that you would never read.

Just as you were about to pick something off the shelf Bucky grabbed you and threw you over his shoulder carrying you to the corner of the room where there was a break out zone. Sitting down and pulling you into his lap he began to kiss along your neck and jaw, zoning in on the spots that always have you making his favourite little noises.

“Bucky what are we doing in here?” you manage to say, struggling to find the words as he nibbles on the patch of skin just below your ear. He doesn’t reply, instead choosing to turn your face towards his, kissing you deeply and running his hands up your back and over your shoulders. You feel like you’re melting into him, it's not fair just how good he can make you feel with most of your clothes on and in the middle of the library.

You push on his chest to get him to stop for a second so you can collect your thoughts, resting your forehead against his and slowing your breath down. “Tell me what you’re thinking doll, I really want to know what's going on in your head”. You smile and lean back to look at him, grabbing his head in both your hands and running your thumbs over his cheekbones, just staring at him for what feels like a lifetime.

“Yes” you say. The simple three worded letter is the only thing he’s wanted to hear all night, well actually he's wanted to hear it ever since you went on your first date to that paintballing place then out for possibly the worst tacos ever created, if he’s being totally honest with himself. He searches your face checking to see if you’re messing with him, seeing only happiness and a bit of nerves. A tear rolls down his cheek and he pulls you into his chest whispering declarations of love to you and promising to do 2am ice cream runs whenever you need it.

“Are you sure? You really want to do this, i’ll book an appointment to go look at the house and” you cut him off before his mad ramblings take his head away into that special little land you always called his ‘mad cave of ideas’. Kissing him firmly you grab one of his hands and push it between your legs “now Bucky, put a baby in me”, he looks at you shocked for a moment before smirking and pushing two fingers deep inside you, watching your face as you bite your lip but smile at the feel of him.

“Fuck you’re going to look so good carrying my baby doll, all round and glowing. Carrying the most precious thing in the world”. Grinding your hips down on his hand you can already feel that familiar feeling building up, he carries on getting you get closer before stopping and pulling away “ah ah, I read last week that making your girl cum is the most successful way to help them get pregnant so I want it to be the strongest one yet doll”. You whine at him trying to push his hand back between your legs but he just smiles and shakes his head before switching positions and sitting you on the chair.

You watch as he strips down, leaving his underwear on and pouting because you need to see him, need to feel him. He kneels in front of you and pushes the skirt of your dress up, licking his lips at just how wet and needy you are for him, before grabbing your ass and pulling you to him leaning down and sucking your clit into his mouth. You almost scream at how overstimulated you feel already, your back arches off the chair and he has to hold you in place, gripping your hips.

Pushing a single finger into you he can feel you throbbing already so close, so he pulls back and smirks as you whine and grab for him yet again. “I just want you to feel so good when you finally do cum baby, think of how hard I've been for you all night” he says before repeating his assault on your clit. He continues this three more times before taking pity on you and pulling back. You pulled your dress down not long after his first edge and had been pinching and rubbing your nipples ever since, he kisses up your body and latches on to one of them sucking and licking while pushing his shorts down.

“I read in the kama sutra the best position for making babies is on your back with your legs over my shoulders” he practically growls as you rub his cock, swiping your thumb over the tip. He moves you into position and pushes in slowly, kissing your ankle as he bottoms out inside you. Thrusting into you firmly, the pleasure is too much and you almost want to push him away from you but he holds on tight “I can feel you squeezing me, just let go baby. Cum for me, fuck I can’t hold on much longer” that was it, thats all it took before you were gushing around him, almost screaming his name, you must have told the whole library at that moment just who was making you feel so good.

You hugged each other and lay still, getting into a comfortable position when you heard him whisper something, something you weren’t expecting. Especially not at this very moment while he was still inside you, keeping you plugged. You pull at his hair to lift his head “say that again” tears brimming in your eyes as you look at his face, glowing and happy, waiting expectantly for him to repeat himself.

Three months later

“We were in the law library, lay across some of the chairs in the breakout zone” you stand talking to Sam who has a look of pure disgust on his face. Your friends had all made it at the last minute, you were surrounded by your favourite people, Dora had managed to walk all the way down the aisle holding onto Natasha's hand and was the cutest flower girl that ever existed. You were absolutely glowing with love and happiness, looking for Bucky across the room and seeing him talking with Steve.

You didn't have much of a bump yet but as soon as you started to turn down your favourite champagne it didn't take your friends too long to realise why the wedding was planned so quick. You don’t actually know if it was the law library or the campus bathroom an hour later, all you know was that everything was perfect and the man you can’t take your eyes off for even a moment was your whole world, well for another six months or so.

[starryeyedrookie]

Soulmates (Ethan x MC) Part 2

Book: Set after Open Heart book 3 with topic mentions from previous books.

Pairing: Ethan x F!MC (Evelyn Long)

Word count: 1,072

Rating: Teen

Category: Mostly fluff with some suggestive dialogue

Summary: Evelyn’s POV with continuation from Part 1 and elaboration on her story featured in The Newlywed Game.

Author’s note: I didn’t for this part to be so long, but I got a little carried away lol. Translation is in brackets on the side, and I hope you enjoy reading!❤️

The morning breeze was warm, with the smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries flooding Evelyn’s senses as she and Ethan walked to Dolce Vita.

She never imagined that they would get to this point. Holding hands, walking down the surprisingly quiet streets, now a married couple.

Still feeling a sense of disbelief, she smiled and shook her head, glancing down at her hand, her ring glittering in the sunlight confirming that yes, they had vowed to stay by each other's side for better or for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.

“What’s got you so giddy?” Ethan asked, catching her smiling to herself.

“I was just thinking about how far we've come together. We’re married! I guess it just doesn’t feel real yet.”

“I can understand that. Are you having any doubts?”

“Dr. Ramsey! I’m horrified that you would even ask such a thing!” Evelyn exclaimed, placing a hand over her heart faking distress. “No, I’m not having any doubts. You’re stuck with me until the day I die Mr. Chief of Medicine.”

“Good, because I don't intend on ever letting you get away. Oh, here we are.” Ethan announced as they approached the little café. “After you madame,” he said, holding the door open for her.

“Why thank you, kind sir.”

Entering the store, they’re both overwhelmed by all the options.

As they waited in line, Evelyn began thinking back to those Duolingo lessons that she tried taking months prior. She never liked going anywhere that she couldn’t understand the language.

Reaching the front of the line, a new drink on the menu caught her eye.

“Buongiorno. Cosa posso offrirti oggi?” the barista asked. (Good morning. What can I get for you today?)

“Buongiorno, che sapore ha tua Madre?” she asked, pointing to the item on the menu behind the barista. (Good morning. What does your mother taste like?)

“Excuse me? Did you mean to ask, che sapore ha quella bevanda?” he inquired, pointing to the same spot on the menu. (What does that drink taste like?)

Quickly trying to think back to what she said, her face dropped in horror.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I got mixed up, and I didn’t realize-”

“She was trying to learn Italian before we came, so she can order in it,” Ethan added, trying to not make her feel worse.

“Don’t worry about it,” he responded laughing, “I know how it is to try to learn a new language. I moved here three years ago and trust me, I’ve had my fair share of mishaps. The drink that you’re asking about is caffè d’un parrinu. It’s coffee with flavours of clove, cinnamon, and cocoa powder.”

“That sounds amazing.” she managed to replay still blushing furiously, hoping no one had heard her mistake.

“We’ll take two of those and two tiramisu-filled croissants please,” Ethan glanced at the barista’s name tag, “Oliver.”

“Coming right up!”

After paying, Oliver handed them a bag with their croissants and their coffees. “Here you go, have a nice day!”

“Thank you, you too,” Evelyn replied, taking Ethan’s hand and heading out.

The walk back to the hotel was quiet, neither one wanting to bring up what had just happened.

Upon entering their room, Evelyn placed her coffee on the small table and collapsed on the bed, screaming into her pillow.

“Dammit dammit dammiiittt!

Placing their bag and his coffee down, Ethan sat down on the bed next to her and rubbed her back soothingly.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re embarrassed, but please, if the other guests are going to file a noise complaint against us, let’s be wise about what we use the opportunity for.”

Sitting up and laughing through tears she wrapped her arms around him.

“I know what would cheer you up.”

“What?”

“Here,” he said, handing her his credit card, “take this and go get whatever you want.”

“I can't do that.” she protested.

“Yes, you can. Consider it your wedding gift.”

“Thank you!” she exclaimed, pushing him down on the bed and showering him with kisses. “Don’t you want to come with me?”

“Surprise me,” he responded, giving her one last lingering kiss.

- - - - - -

About an hour later, Evelyn returned with two bags in hand.

“Thank you!” she exclaims, handing Ethan his card back.

“Of course, darling. Did you get everything you wanted?”

“I did.”

“Excellent, I slipped my mind to mention it to you earlier, but tonight, after dinner, we’ll be going on a gondola ride.”

“Booyah!” she squealed, pumping her fist in the air and dancing.

“If you do that on the boat, trust that I will push you off.”

She smiled and kissed him, “No you won’t. I think you’re all talk Dr. Ramsey.”

- - - - - -

That evening, after dinner, the newlyweds boarded the gondola and began floating along The Grand Canal, the setting sun shining a glorious golden light upon the water.

Evelyn sat across from Ethan, admiring how bright his blue eyes looked in the light, his face a look of calm peacefulness. She didn’t think that she’d ever seen him so relaxed.

Before she met Ethan, she thought she knew what love was. She had only loved one boy from the age of eight until eighteen. Her first and only boyfriend. When she left home for school, they tried to make long distance work, but slowly fell out of touch. It made her sad, but it didn’t break her.

Then she thought of when Ethan left for two months to go to the Amazon. She had felt more hurt at that moment than she did in her entire life. Hurt that Ethan hadn’t contacted her or even mentioned to her that he was leaving. Hurt that he had tried to erase all the progress that they had made in the previous year.

But they overcame it all. They stayed and fought together through everything that was thrown at them. From working tirelessly to find a cure for Naveen, to the attack on the Senator and the deaths of their friends. Leland Bloom had even tried to overthrow the hospital, but they took him down together.

Now here they were, Chief of Medicine and Head of the Diagnostics Team. They made each other stronger and pushed each to always be their best.

He was the love of her life and she was the love of his, and together they would be unstoppable.

Catching her staring, Ethan smiled and took her hands in his, “I love you Evelyn.”

“I love you too Ethan.”

If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list: @mercury84choices , @a-crepusculo, @emmasumbrella , @quixoticdreamer16 , @headoverheelsforramsey, @mm2305

@choicesficwriterscreations

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed❤️

[sierraraeck]

Happier

Spencer x Fem!Reader

Spencer x Luke

Masterlist

Summary: Things have been slowly declining in you and Spencer’s relationship. Going out to a bar alone one night, you figure out why.

Category: Angst.

Warnings: Brief mention of alcohol

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This was inspired by the song “Happier” by Marshmellow and Bastille. If you wanna give that a quick listen, go for it, if not, that’s chill too.

In the cold light of day we’re a flame in the wind

Not the fire that we’ve begun

But we ran our course, we pretended we’re okay

‘Cause with all that has happened

I think that we both know the way that this story ends

You met Spencer at a bookstore. He was a regular, but it was the first time you actually interacted. He was carrying enough books to nearly block his vision, and when he no-so-gracefully plopped them down at the register in front of you, the whole pile came toppling down. You watched in amusement as he collected three of the books from the floor and placed them back down on the desk, now ready to check out.

“You know, we provide baskets at the front for this reason,” you smirked.

He barely glanced up at you, and shyly said, “Do you know how many germs are on those things?”

You laughed, “I’m not sure I’d like to know.”

He quickly raised his eyebrows at you. “I wish I didn’t.”

You checked out the rest of his books in silence, then wished him a good day on his way out.

The next week, he was back in, and grabbed the same outrageous amount of books, dropping them on his way to you.

“Back so soon?” you questioned, remembering who he was quite well.

“I needed some new reading material,” he shrugged. You cocked an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“The last thirteen books weren’t enough?”

“I finished them,” he nonchalantly stated.

“You’re kidding.” He shook his head. “Jeez. Is the only thing you do read all day?”

“No,” he innocently responded, “I only need a few minutes to read each. I’m actually an FBI agent.”

You stared at him blankly. That was not what you expected. “Wait, what? You’re an FBI agent, and you can read hundreds of pages in only minutes?”

He nodded as if there was nothing impressive about either of those. You were still shocked and mumbled, “Okay, wow.”

The third time he came in, you noticed that he was waiting until your register was free, so that you specifically could check him out. You had a bit more small talk, this time about some of the books he’d read. The fourth time he came in, you left some disinfectant wipes by the baskets, knowing that he really should use one, and wanted the germaphobe in him to feel comfortable taking one. He looked over at you and you smiled at him while he wiped down one of the baskets to use. It was that time while you were checking him out that he asked you on a date. You, of course, said yes. You wanted to know more about this mysterious, handsome man that worked for the FBI and could read an insane amount of books in only a short period of time.

Things were great at the beginning. You got to know each other, and the more you found out about him, the more and more you liked him. The two of you started spending almost all of your free time together, and you were considering asking about moving in together.

That is, until he started pulling away.

You weren’t sure what had gone wrong. Things were great, and then it seemed like one day he went to work interested in you and came home distant. Like his mind was elsewhere. You tried to ask him about it, but he deflected every time. He used to never like going out with his team, but he slowly started spending more time with them, and less time with you. You hinted at wanting to meet his team, and hoped that he’d introduce you to them soon, but with every passing day you grew more doubtful.

You’d been anticipating a break up for a while now, but you just didn’t think it’d be you who did it.

Spencer was out with his team again. He’d only briefly talked about them, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was one of his team members that was holding his attention. Maybe that JJ or Emily person, you thought.

You were tired of being left home alone, and were feeling even more down than usual, so you decided to go out by yourself. If Spencer wasn’t going to have fun with you, you could have fun with you.

You pushed open the door to the bar on the corner of the street, but stopped in your tracks when you saw Spencer, and the group of people around him you quickly put together was his team. You scooted out of the entryway, and just stood there watching them. You felt sort of creepy doing it, but it might’ve been the only time you could see Spencer when he wasn’t around you. Maybe it would tell you something.

What you saw felt like a spear to the chest. Spencer was smiling. He was laughing. God, you missed hearing that laugh, seeing that smile. It’d been so long since he’d done either, and that’s when you realized the full weight of how unhappy Spencer must be with you.

Sure, he’d been pulling away, but the process was so gradual that seeing the stark contrast of him with his team versus him with you was blinding. It was like the universe was throwing it in your face just to mock you. It was painful.

The thing that really got you, though, was the way he was looking at one of his teammates. It wasn’t one of the pretty blondes, or either of the jaw-dropping brunettes, but it was the dashing man next to him. You’d seen those eyes before, the ones Spencer was giving him. He looked at you that way once, but not at all recently.

You felt ashamed for it, but your initial reaction was resentment. You hated the very attractive man with deep brown eyes and a little scruff that you’d never met. He was the reason that your Spencer was drifting from you.

But that’s the thing. He wasn’t ‘your’ Spencer. He was just a cute, shy, germaphobic guy that you met at a bookstore. And based on the way that he was looking at his teammate, you wondered if maybe Spencer hadn’t been ‘yours’ for a while now.

Unbeknownst to you, you’d started tearing up, and only noticed it when some of the people around you started giving you strange looks. You furiously wiped at your face, and took a few deep breaths. At that moment, you decided to leave, to calm yourself down for the rest of the night and confront him about it tomorrow.

You were nearly out the door when you heard that oh-so-familiar voice call out, “Hey, Y/N!” You turned to see Spencer slightly jogging towards you, “What are you doing here?”

You experienced forever in a moment, hundreds of thoughts swarming your mind in an instant: I’m here because he never wants to spend time with me anymore and I was going to drown my feelings in alcohol; It doesn’t matter why I’m here because now I know what’s been going on between us; I can’t stay with him; but I love him; maybe we can make it work; he’s clearly unhappy with me and I’ve known it for a long time; the way he looks at his coworker is the way I want him to look at me; can I ever make him look at me like that again; what did I do wrong; this is that man’s fault; this is Spencer’s fault; this is my fault; maybe I’m just not good enough for him; why am I not good enough for him; god I think I might cry again; no I need to pull myself together, that’d be embarrassing; I wish I was good enough so I could see him smile and hear him laugh like that again; that man made him smile like that and laugh like that, something I haven’t been able to do in a long time; he doesn’t love me; he loves him; I love him; I want him to be happy, he deserves to be happy; I deserve to be happy; I want him to be happier than he is with me; I want him to be as happy as he is with that man all the time; I want that happiness to be with me, but it’s not; I want him to be happier.

We shouldn’t do this anymore.

It’s not that you couldn’t do it anymore, you wanted nothing more than to keep fighting for the two of you, but you had the astonishing thought that you just shouldn’t. I wouldn’t be fair for you to keep Spencer from the man he truly wanted, and it wasn’t fair to yourself to continue in this relationship.

In the blink of an eye, you heard yourself speak the words you never thought you would, words you couldn’t even believe you were saying out loud, right now, to the man you just realized you loved. “I’m breaking up with you.” You felt tears rising to the surface, but you swallowed them down. This is for the best.

Spencer looked beyond shocked, like he surly hadn’t heard you correctly. “What? Why?”

You gave him a sad smile, “Spence, this is the first time I’ve seen you happy, like really truly happy. And you know what? It’s not with me.”

This just confused him further. “I don’t…” he trailed off.

You gestured toward the strong-jawed man who was trying, and failing, to not-so-subtly look your guys’ way. “It’s with him.”

Spencer followed your gaze, and offered a small, confused laugh. “Who, Luke? No, we’re just-”

“I swear to god, if you finish that sentence with ‘just friends’ I will slap you across the face,” you cut him off. Spencer gave you a slightly startled look, so you lowered your voice to a more calming one. “Look, you should be with him, okay? You actually want to spend time with him and you’re smiling which I feel like I haven’t seen you do in months.”

Spencer was shaking his head. “Y/N, I can try harder, we can-”

You held up your hand to stop him. “I don’t want you to have to try. No one should have to try that hard to keep this going. It should be easy, effortless, which is what you’re getting from someone else. So no, we can’t and more than that, I don’t want to.” You felt almost as surprised as Spencer looked from your words. They were true, from the depths of your soul you felt how true your words were, and couldn’t believe that you were finally admitting that.

Spencer’s voice was small when he asked, “Why?”

You heard the double meaning behind the question, and answered with the first thing that came to mind. “Because I love you.” You realized it was the first, last, and only time you’d get to say that. “And that’s why I want you to be happy, even if it isn’t with me.”

Spencer was about to respond when a high pitched voice, sounding slightly drunk and a little bit annoyed, yelled across the room, “Yeah, new guy!” You saw the tall man approaching the two of you, and it all kinda clicked into place. New guy. So when it felt like one day Spencer woke up loving me, and came home distracted, that wasn’t too far off. He went to work that day, which was probably the same day that ‘new guy’ started working with him. It all started slowly making sense in your head.

‘New guy,’ Luke, walked up to the two of you, standing shoulder to shoulder with Spencer, and cautiously started, “Hey, what’s going on here?”

Looking at the man before you, you hated to admit it, but your anger diminished a little, and your jealousy grew. He was a very attractive man, full, strong build, piercing eyes, gentle face, and about the same height as Spencer.

You gave Spencer a pointed look about the proximity in which they were standing, especially when the other man’s shoulder brushed up against his. Spencer wasn’t a touchy person, but he actually seemed to relax in the other man’s presence. That spoke volumes.

You knew this Luke guy was also a profiler, so he could probably sense the tension, granted anyone probably could’ve. He quickly looked at Spencer before directing his attention back to you. “Can we help you with something?”

You wanted to scoff, or laugh, or vomit. Maybe all three at the same time. Can we help you with something? Clearly Spencer had never told any of them about you, and you couldn’t help but smile, with just a hint of bitterness, at his immediate use of ‘we.’ As if you were a threat that he needed to help Spencer defuse. But you also smiled because you were right. Again, it didn’t take a profiler to spot the very different tension between the two of them.

You shook your head, looking more at Spencer than at the other man, “No, I don’t think so. Not anymore.” There was no malice in your voice, only sadness, with just a dash of exhaustion. Who knew that pretending like your relationship wasn’t sinking took so much effort?

Spencer gave Luke a tight smile, “Just give us a minute?”

He wearily nodded, but backed away from the two of you. You sighed, “Look, he seems like a good guy and clearly already loves you in some capacity, and you know what?” You half-joked, “If he does something stupid you give me his number and I’ll give him a call.”

This earned a small laugh from Spencer, which made you want to both smile and cry. Of course, it was only after you’d broken up that you could get him to laugh. You settled for a small smile, and an immediate awkwardness settled over the two of you.

You made the first move, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. With a comforting hand on his shoulder, you looked into his sad eyes, and whispered, “Bye, Spencer.”

Those were the last words you exchanged, and you walked out of that bar without another look back.

You were letting him go.

You were setting him free.

Then only for a minute

I want to change my mind

‘Cause this just don’t feel right to me

I wanna raise your spirits

I want to see you smile but

Know that means I’ll have to leave

So I’ll go

[seoracle]

DRIVERS LICENSE; ii

Pairing: Bang Chan x Idol! Gender Neutral Reader

Genre: Fake Dating! AU, Angst, Lovers to Enemies(?), Occasional Pining, Comedy, Smut 

Summary: Y/N has become an overnight sensation with ‘Drivers License’, Breaking records left and right…But what if the press gets wind of the ill-matched lovers and their company decide it’s the perfect attention ploy?

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Mature themes, Dry-humping and Drinking, Angst warning

A/N: part three will conclude this series, thank you for the support!

“So Y/N, I’ll only ask one question on the topic but...What attracted you to Bang Chan?” 

“Well, everything really.” You say with a fond smile. “When we first met I had just moved to Sydney and he took care of me. I think I started liking him then, But I only confessed when we were both trainees.” 

“How cute!” The interviewer gushes, fanning herself. “I hope you two have many happy days to come.”

Things had been jam-packed since the news of you and Chan had come out, his fandom had been more welcoming than you had expected and left lots of sweet comments under your social media accounts. You hadn’t done any interviews until today, just music shows or performances. You also hadn’t actually seen or spoken to him since it all went down, not even at the meeting.

In fairness you had both become extremely busy, and constantly were a hot topic for netizens. Your fame had skyrocketed even more so than it originally did, you had now become the ambassador of a major brand and already had a performance booked for the end of year awards with a brand new song.

Your mind went back to your conversation with Chan and how quick you had been to blurt out hurtful words that you no longer meant. 

You knew it was up to you to reach out, but admitting your actions were over the top isn’t something you’re ready to do. You hadn’t technically lied but calling him a sellout was a low blow, and although he wasn’t an angel he wouldn’t say something like that to you. 

Today is a better day than any to deliver your reluctant apology, a fake date is scheduled for a popular book store that recently finished an extension for their in store cafe.You dressed casually and made sure to bring your mask and matching black baseball hat, along with Tims Tams.

Even though it’s only 1pm, the sky is dim and dreary which makes the walk to the cafe a bit more nerve-wracking. What if he chews you out before you can get a word in? He was always good at that. The scent of arabica coffee beans brings you to your senses and you walk in before you can make a run for it and never return, goodbye idol life, au revoir pilates and adiós to Christopher Bang.

“You actually came.” A voice remarks, making you squeal in surprise. 

“What the fuck?!” You screech, placing a hand over your heart to try calm it’s rapid beating.

He opens the door, smiling in amusement at your terror. You settle in a corner with a large bright window, perfect for paparazzi and incase you nervous retch. Chan heads to the counter and comes back with a double shot Americano and a Green Tea Latte.

“Thanks.” You murmur sheepishly, feeling like a complete asshole for lashing out at him.

“I wanted to run something by you, well, to clarify something…” He begins to explain, waiting for your nod of approval before he begins. “I didn’t even know Seungah, or ‘Mijoo’ properly until we broke up. I wouldn’t hurt you like that, I know I still did but I just wanted you to understand.”

You’re taken aback by him not being mad at you for two weeks ago, even though he has every right to be. If he had said half the things you had said he wouldn’t know any peace for the rest of his life.

“Thank you for clarifying, But I should be apologising…” You began hesitantly, did he want you to just move on and say nothing? Still, you’re not that person anymore. “I was way out of line to say all that stuff about you, which wasn’t true at all. You worked hard to get where you are and I’m happy for you, if anyone deserves the world it’s you.” 

While he processes your words with his mouth ajar, you push the Tim Tams to his side of the table. His eyes light up and he rips into them immediately, dunking one into his warm coffee and although you find it semi-revolting, you smile.

You spend the next half hour sharing the biscuits and stories of wardrobe mishaps and what you’ve both been up to in the last few years. It doesn’t take long before you feel comfortable in his presence, not fully but more than you thought possible after all that went down.

Chan ends up finishing the packet and relaxes into his chair with a content sigh, you can’t help but smile at the sight. It quickly fades when you spot paparazzi in heards outside the cafe.

“They found us, totally not like our companies tipped them off.” Chan comments, turning back to you after squinting at them for a bit.

“Quick, act surprised.” You order, as you start making over-exaggerated expressions to the cameras.

The flashing of cameras is nothing new to either of you at this point and you head upstairs to the book section, scanning from classics, science fiction and biographies of people you’d never heard of. Chan spots a section of books with their covers hidden under wrapping and the descriptions written in black ink. You decide on a poetry book from the 1700s with a little sun drawn on the brown paper, Chan picks a Sci-Fi thriller and you shake your head knowingly.

Afterwards, Chan walks you home through the playground near your tiny apartment and makes small talk about music, he picks your brain about melodies and what your favourite synth sounds are. It’s hard to believe less than a month ago you wanted to rip his head off. 

“Let’s sit for a bit.” Chan says, situating himself on a swing.

It doesn’t take you long to join him on the swing to his right, if there’s nothing worse than one idiot on a swing it’s two idiots on swings. Instead of chatting you focus on seeing how high up you can go and Chan watches, shaking his head in embarrassment.

“You’re an actual child.” He teases, grabbing a hold of the rope to slow you down. 

“Hey, no fair.” You huff, grounding yourself by using your feet, turning to him with a pout.

He rolls his eyes and ruffles your hair just like he used to, and embarrassingly it makes you feel happy. Just like you used to back when you first met in Sydney and he was all you knew. 

Stop thinking about the past, you say mentally, what’ll It change?

To distract yourself you decide it’s time to go somewhere else, and get up with the intent of forgetting whatever feelings your brain is fabricating. You can hear footsteps behind you and sigh, he’s not letting you go that easy.

“Where are you going?” Chan calls out, finally catching up to you.

“A bar, I assumed you were still on that drinking ban.” You say feigning your intentions of ditching him for your own benefit.

“That ended two years ago,” He replies with a small smile, “What bar exactly?”

“You’ll see.” 

“Y/N….you said a bar, this is a club.” Chan says, stating the obvious. 

It’s a small place just on the outskirts of the bustling city, illuminated by purple and blue with none of the  ridiculous cocktail names, dry humping and reek of Victoria’s Secret perfume you became accustomed to in Seoul. 

“Same difference,” You reply with a shrug, sitting down at an empty velvet sofa. “Wanna be a dear and get us some drinks?”

Chan shakes his head with his usual grin and heads to the counter, you can’t help but notice how buff he’s gotten in the last few years. You look away when he takes the drinks off the counter and focus on the fabric of your ripped jeans instead, fiddling with the loose strings.

“A rum and coke for you and a black russian for me.” He announces, sitting down on the other end of the couch. 

“Perfect choice.” You say thankfully, raising the glass to your lips and taking several gulps.

The blond raises an eyebrow, sipping at his caffeinated cocktail at a more leisurely pace, soon one drink becomes four and a round of shots later you can gladly say any warm fuzzy feelings have been replaced with drunk fuzzy feelings. Chan, who's only had two drinks laughs at your predicament as the bartender cuts you off for the night.

“Chris, order another round!” You instructed giddily, clinging onto his arm.

“Yeah, and carry you home drunk? I don’t think so.” He retorts, finishing his soju.

You grumble incoherencies under your breath, leaning into him and shutting your eyes. He inquisitively still smells the same and carries the same soothing aura that everyone seemed to pick up on. He hums to the song playing and you can feel his chest vibrate when he messes up on a lyric and laughs. The alcohol makes everything seem blurred around the edges and rose-tinged, he puts his arm around you and it all feels right.

“Y/N, Y’Alright?” 

“Yeah, you?” You slur, smiling into his neck, you can feel him chuckle when your eyelashes tickle his skin.

Everything becomes hazy after that, you hardly remember Chan helping you into the back of a taxi or guiding you to your front door. He searches your bag for the front door key and then your jacket, you giggle drunkenly, making the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“Back pocket,” You state with an amused grin.

Chan reaches down into the back pocket of your jeans and the contact makes your cheeks redden and you inhale deeply. He doesn’t seem to notice and clasps onto the key, before he takes the key out you place your hand around his wrist and hold it there. He looks at you with an uncertain glance, his eyes searching yours for confirmation of some sort, arching into his touch gives him the clarification he needs and he presses his lips to yours in a hungry, intrusive kiss. 

You bring your hands up to his hair and tug on it lightly, as if to bring him even closer if possible. Chan groans into your mouth at the feeling and you take advantage of the moment and control the kiss while he eagerly follows, one hand firmly squeezing your ass while and starts to grind against you. The only sounds you hear are his ragged breathing and the quiet whimper that leaves him when you pull apart to nip at his jaw.

“Y/N,” He pleads, rutting against your thigh with desperation. You answer his pleas, allowing him between your thighs, he kisses your ear appreciatively and helps you up onto the low metal shelf by your doorway for better access grind against your sex.

He whines profanities into your neck when you meet his ruts in a more languid pace, it only makes him more desperate for you. You sigh in pleasure at the sight, although your vision is hazy his swollen lips and furrowed brows are as clear as day. You can tell how close he is by how unsteady his breathing is, he cries out your name repeatedly and you coo at him.

“Pathetic, I haven’t even wrapped my hand around your cock and you’re ready to blow your load.” You mock, pretending you aren’t at the edge yourself.

“Ah, shit..!” He bellows, hot breath hitting your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”

You watch his mouth fall agape as he finally reaches his peak, his blonde hair is plastered against his face and his skin has a sheen that suits him well. Chan gasps as you start up again, the overstimulation making him writhe, he slips one hand down the front of your jeans, which surprises you because you still feel secure being held up with just one arm. You rut against his hand, he knows exactly where to touch and your moans only spur him on until you finally reach your own climax, biting down on his shoulder when you do.

Nothing is said while you both collect yourselves, Chan drops you down and presses his forehead to yours while he catches his breath. The alcohol starts to wear off you and fully realise what’s happened and take your keys out of your back pocket, your hands shake and it takes you a while to get the key in and twist it.

“Y/N?” He calls out, sounding helpless. 

“I’m sorry, Chris.” 

Ignoring the downcast expression on his face you go inside, looking at him once more and telling him you’re sorry again and that he should leave. When you slam the door, he calls out for you to open it again, fifteen minutes later he leaves and you’re in the shower crying. You had just done to Mijoo what had been your biggest fear, but she would have never done that to you.

She was a good person and you were disgusting with no morals.

How the fuck had it all happened so fast? Meeting Chris again, loathing him, fake dating him, feeling emotions for him and now practically fucking him? Nothing had really changed, even before the breakup it had always been you crawling back to him and him feeling as if gravity was pulling you two back together just to tear you away again. ‘Cruel fate’ he called it, you call it nonsense to make him feel better.

Whatever it was, it needed to stop or finally be faced.

It’s just after 12pm the next day when you wake up, everything hurts and you try to piece together what little you remember before that thing with Chris. You groan into the palms of your hands and try to think of a solution, you couldn’t ignore or avoid him, at least not forever. Why did you ever agree to fake a relationship anyways? If only you could turn back time and tell your CEO and the entire JYP entourage to get fucked.

A buzzing under your pillow snaps you back to your senses, realising it’s your phone you slide your thumb across the screen to accept the call. 

“Hello?”  You ask in a hoarse tone.

“Check literally any news outlet.” A familiar voice says in a monotone voice.

“Iris, Should I be worried?”

Iris doesn’t reply and you decide to check Twitter, upon opening it you’re bombarded with notifications that all lead back to a photo of you and Chan making out. The picture has clearly been scanned to make the quality better, it’s grainy but even you can see how easy it is to tell who is in the photo. Dread fills your body at the thought of what management would say, this could compromise all of your hard work.

“I thought you were done with him,” Iris sighs, “God, Y/N... it took you years to get over him, and he has a real relationship.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” You reply quietly, ignoring the sting of her words.

“I love you, okay? But I’m so worried you’ll end up hurt again.” She admits, you can hear her tapping her nails against wood, a nervous habit. “Just be careful, I’ll call you later.”

As the call ends you sigh with a smile, typical Iris trying to show she cares while remaining unfiltered. You quickly realise there's no point in hiding from any of this and get ready for what you’re sure will be an eventful day. 

When you arrive at the company building you’re quick to sneak past the secretary and into San’s office, he greets you with a suggestive look.

“You’re so lucky the apartment’s security spotted and escorted them out.” San remarks, tongue pressing against his cheek.

“I know, don’t worry Iris got to the lecture first.” You retort, pinching the bridge of your nose once you sit down on his uncomfortable sofa, damn hangovers.

San pulls open a drawer and passes you a bottle of aspirin, which falls to the floor thanks to your slightly altered (and loss of ) coordination. You mumble words of gratitude and dry swallow two.

“So how mad is everyone?” You ask meekly, not meeting his eyes.

“Well, no one really is. It got you more buzz and sales but there is a broken-hearted girl to think about.”

Shit, Mijoo.

You get up in a flash and take San’s unopened energy drink with you, as you exit his office you hear him yelling at you.

“Why does your apartment have shelves at the front door anyways?!”

It’s when you get outside and the fresh air hits that you realise you have no idea what to do. Woolim is a twenty minute walk at best, you have no idea if Mijoo will even be there but it’s worth a shot. On the way you stop to get two cans of iced coffee and hope she’s still feeling kind after what you pulled last night.

The Woolim building is finally in sight and you push the door open and are stunned to see Mijoo on the other side. Her eyes are glassy and swollen and she isn’t giving off her usual bright aura, but still she smiles at you.

“Hey, trying to hit me?” She jokes with a wry laugh.

“Mijoo...can we talk?” 

“Um…” She looks anywhere but your eyes. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Y/N.”

“Seungah, five minutes is all I need. Then if you want I’ll never talk again.” You plead, she sighs but accepts, turning back and leading you to the private back ‘garden’ which is just concrete and a bench.

“Thank you.” You say, bowing your head a little. She laughs and takes a coffee out of the plastic bag when you sit down.

“Formalities aren’t needed between us, what do you want?”

Her bluntness catches you off guard, up close you can see mascara has seeped around her eye bags and dried up. She definitely knew what had happened but wanted to hear it from you, which petrifies you. How are you supposed to casually say the truth and not get punched in the face?

“I know you saw the picture but you need to hear it from me,” You begin, licking your lips. “I kissed Chan, he didn’t return my feelings and he’s probably going to try to take half the blame.”

Mijoo’s facial expression doesn’t change and she takes a sip of coffee, folding her lips into a thin line after she swallows the bitter liquid. 

“I don’t think he ever got over you.” She admits in a downcast tone. “When we started dating he told me he’d always love you a little bit, I just didn’t think you'd come back for him.”

“I didn’t come back for him,” You clarify, “I had no intentions of...any of this. I’m really sorry and I won’t come between you two again. It’s strictly business from now on, you have my word.”

“Why are you so keen on keeping us together?” She says, stunned.

“I don’t want to be the reason anyone is hurt.” 

“What about you then? Won’t this hurt you?”

You don’t reply, instead returning the same kind smile she had given you. Of course it’ll hurt you, but you can’t bear the weight of hurting anyone the way you did, even Chris. For so long it was all you wanted, for him to feel the pain you did that night in his car.

A week passes by in a flash, between schedules and training you haven’t had any time to dwell on Chan which is nice for once. San and Iris make sure to keep you up to date on what he’s been up to since you shooed him away like a bad dog.

Luckily fake media reports of you two being spotted have been enough to keep the ‘break up’ rumours at bay for now. Eventually you will have to face him, but if Mijoo’s Instagram story is any indication, it’s a happy one of them and their daily coffee trips. Meanwhile all your days are spent in the dance studio, trying to perfect your end of year performance.

Your newest track took two weeks alone to record, it was yet again a song you hadn’t intended on releasing. The lyrics were about being drunk, horny and sad which are emotions you felt most days. The choreography was the most challenging part, primarily because you weren’t much of a dancer to begin with. 

“Perfect!” Your teacher, Hyolyn praises with a satisfied smile.

You collapse on the floor and try to catch your breath, taking a second to gulp down water. Although it’s  hard work, it was extremely rewarding. According to San, you’re predicted to win two awards and nominated for four which was insane considering last year you were #9 on ‘Top 10 least watched debuts’. 

“How close am I to acing this?”You ask, completely drained.

“I’d give it a week.” Hyolyn replies after taking a second to evaluate you.

Groaning, you lie down on the hardwood floors and shut your eyes. The performance was in nine days, giving you little to no time to rest. Iris also had you booked for three days of practicing your makeup for the show, which included intricate and trendy tattoo art all over your arms and littered over any other revealed areas, for hair you would be wearing a wig, lighter than your own hair but similar to how it looked in a recent magazine spread. 

It was all down to you to ace this performance, and you only had one shot.

“Y/N? Y/N L/N!” 

San’s voice snaps you back to your senses, he guides you up from the floor and gives you a once-over and decides you look fine. Then, without a word, drags you down through the busy city and into a quaint cafe, filled with greenery and flowers galore. You spot Wooyoung’s blonde hair behind the counter and smile knowingly, of course.

“Am I here to third wheel?” You joke, elbowing his ribs.

“Shut up, We’re here for you to experience a delectable latte topped with chocolate art and if you’re good I’ll buy you a bean bun.” 

You sit down on an empty chair without a word, smiling up at him. There is nothing you wouldn’t do for a fresh bean bun, especially if it’s free. San goes up to the counter, his laugh echoes around the small area when Wooyoung makes a little joke involving word play. Minutes later, a steamy cup of coffee is in front of you with a cute little bunny made of white liquid and you can’t help but look down in amazement.

“Good, right?” Wooyoung beams, full of well-deserved confidence.

“Amazing,” You gush, taking a sip reluctantly, not wanting to ruin the illustration. 

Wooyoung takes a bow and walks back to the counter, brewing up another order in no time, San watches intently resting his chin in the palm of his hand. What an idiot, you think, although you’re slightly envious no one looks at you that way. 

Several more cups and bean buns later, you leave the lovebirds to return home for some well needed rest. Today is the only actual real chance of resting up before the real work begins, even the thought makes your body ache. But all that fades away when you see a familiar face at your door, Chan.

“Chan?” You say bewildered, “Why are you here?”

“Can we talk?” He asks, meeting your eyes for a brief second before looking away again.

“Okay.”

Five minutes later he’s sitting across the coffee table, stirring a cup of instant coffee and not saying a word. What is there to say? You were both drunk exes longing to relive old times, Yes you would always love him but he wasn’t yours anymore, he hadn’t been for years.

You weren’t the same person, the cheap electric guitar you’d adored has spun into a customised Fender, his dark curls had been swapped for blonde locks that hung across his face. You had loved and lost him, found him and begun the cycle again.

“Why did you try to lie to Seungah?” 

“She’s your girlfriend, you clearly care about her and I didn’t want you to lose that because of a stupid mistake.” You say, even though it was no mistake on your behalf.

Chan laughs dryly in response, eyes becoming unreadable and dark.

“You didn’t want me to fuck you that night?” 

Before you can reply he's standing up, walking towards you and clearly loving that in your seated position he towers over you. He notices your thighs are shut as much as they can be and coos. 

“Is that all it takes, huh?” He says, mocking your tone from that night. “As much as you love pushing me around and belittling me, you love to be put in your place don’t you?”

A strained sound leaves your throat and you try to push it away, the feeling of wanting him to be in control, to be vulnerable for him. It’s a feeling you’ve only felt a handful of times and always with him. You knew he was just frustrated and feeling rejected, if anything did happen you’d wake up alone to a regretful voicemail.

“Don’t do something you’ll regret, I would call you dumb but that would turn you on.” You finally retort, standing up to fully enjoy the flush of humiliation come over his face.

“Know your place.”  

“Kiss me,” He pleads, soft eyes full of stars. “Just once more.”

You swallow thickly, once more is all he’s asking for. Hesitating for a second, you raise your arms and gently take his face into your hands, thumbing over his jaw the way he likes and press your lips against his. The kiss is firm and chaste, much unlike the last one that was filled with hunger and urgency, this...feels final. Neither of you pull away, Chan deepening the kiss more and settling on wrapping his arms around you over his oxygen levels. 

You feel tears starting to pool within your closed eyes and it burns, finally pulling away when it all becomes too much. His warm disposition is so apparent in his teary eyes and it hurts more than ever, you drop your hands from his face and he takes them into his own, a bittersweet feeling coming to the surface.

“Goodbye again, Y/N.” Chan says with a smile, letting go your hands and heading towards the door.

“Goodbye, Chris.” You reply in a faltering tone, turning away as he shuts the door behind him. 

You’re left sobbing on the linoleum floors of your apartment, ignoring various buzzes from your phone hours later when you finally calm down enough to sit on the couch and numbly stare at the flickering TV. Then it comes up on a pop music channel, your face and his with the headline: Bang Chan and Y/N announce break up. 

[stormyoceansmain]

[im very much NOT a writer - i cannot stress this enough - but i truly mean it when i say sambucky is making me go insane. i find no other explanation for ending up writing 3.8k words of sambucky, alpine, and movie night. thank you if you decide to read this, i hope it's not too terrible]

Sam shows up at Bucky’s place for movie night with a case full of beers and ten minutes to spare.

Sarah makes fun of him for this Friday tradition they’ve been carrying out for the past few months, says he should just muster the courage to ask Bucky out on a proper date already. It doesn't matter how many times Sam told her he is just helping Bucky catch up to the 21st century, she always ends up giving him that Look that says she's not believing any words coming out of his mouth, which is kind of unfair, if you ask Sam.

Well, fine, maybe Sarah is right. Maybe Sam does want to take Bucky out on an actual date and hold his hand and kiss him goodnight and do all those sickeningly romantic stuff he used to daydream about when he was 16. Turns out former assassins who are incredibly annoying but also surprisingly kind are very much Sam's type. Go figure.

Still, they worked hard to reach the kind of friendship they currently have, and Sam doesn't want to lose that. He's also not blind to the way Bucky flirts with Sarah, and despite her insistence that Bucky does it more to rile Sam up than for any real interest in her, he’s not about to risk it all on a whim.

This resolution almost crumbles into dust a moment later, when Bucky opens the door wearing sweatpants and a blue shirt that matches his eyes. He is barefoot and his hair is getting longer, losing the harsh edges of the cut and curling slightly behind his ears. He is still all chiseled jawline and defined muscles, but he looks softer, more comfortable in his own skin, and the easy way he smiles at Sam makes a heavy warmth pool around Sam’s stomach.

“Hey,” Bucky greets him, sliding his metal arm around Sam's shoulders to pull him into a brief hug.

This, too, is something of a novelty. There's always been a sort of intense physicality about Bucky, both in how he carries himself and in how he is always aware of the bodies moving around him, but the casual affection, the playful abandon with which he touches and lets others touch him these days, feels like a wonder. Sam would have never expected it, and he had come to love and hate it at the same time.

“Hey yourself,” Sam greets back, splaying his free hand across Bucky's back, allowing himself to hold him there and breathe him in for a second, a fresh lemony smell coming off his hair, before giving him a quick pat on the shoulder and putting a respectable amount of space between them.

He buries his hands deep into the pocket of his jacket and follows Bucky inside, trying to resist the urge to slide his fingers under the hem of Bucky's shirt and feel the warm skin underneath it.

It's the first time Sam steps into Bucky’s apartment since Bucky took home the stray kitten he found on the side of the road three weeks ago, and the changes around it are staggering. Sam was used to empty spaces and few, essential furniture, but now the space in front of the window is occupied by a giant cat tower, and lots of smaller scratching posts are scattered all over the living room, along with different kinds of cat beds and toys.

“I see you redecorated,” Sam says with a grin.

Bucky shrugs, opening two of the beer bottles with a quick twist of his metal hand. “Cats need stuff.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I'm glad.” Sam grabs one of the bottle and clinks it against Bucky's. “Pets are great company and the place looks much better like this. I wouldn't have pinned you down as the crazy cat lady type, but it's always better than Robocop.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, takes a sip of his beer. Sam catches the smile he is trying to hide anyway.

Sam knocks their shoulders together, asks, “So where is she?”

“Hiding, probably,” Bucky says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. “She doesn't like strangers.”

Sam stops with the beer halfway to his mouth. “Excuse you,” he exclaims, outraged. “I very clearly remember accompanying you to the vet the first time you brought her in. I also sacrificed two of my shirts for her and have scars on my forearms where she scratched me to death. I think I deserve more than being considered a stranger. We basically co-parented that cat for the first few days!”

“That's nice,” Bucky deadpans. “Why don't you go tell her that? I'm sure the speech will convince her to keep the claws to herself.”

Sam glares at him and Bucky pats him on the arm. “Just relax,” he adds, turning to open the fridge and taking foods out for dinner. “If we let her be, Alpine will come out eventually.”

Bucky is right, of course. Sam had a few experiences with strays growing up, cats and dogs alike looking for shelter from Louisiana's storms under their porch, and no amount of treats he and Sarah tried to give them had been able to lure them out from their hiding spot. The best course of action in these cases was to wait, letting them come out when they felt safe enough.

It still weirdly feels like a rejection of some sort, but he tries not to let it show.

Sam takes a swig from his beer and asks, “Alpine?”

Bucky turns on the stove and shrugs again. He remains silent for a moment, a distant look on his face that Sam has learned to associate to memories better buried and forgotten. He is about to start telling Bucky about the science fair at the boys' school to change the subject, when Bucky speaks again, low and careful.

“She reminds me of the snow on the Alps.”

He doesn't elaborate on that, but Sam nods anyway, like he understands. He doesn't, like Bucky will never be able to fully understand what it means for Sam to carry the shield, but it's okay. They have each other, and that's still something.

Sam taps his foot against Bucky's bare one, watches Bucky's entire being exhale and relax. “Couldn't you have named her Snowflakes or something like that?”

Bucky levels him with a stare that tells him he would rather jump off another plane rather than calling his cat ‘Snowflakes’, and Sam laughs.

The far off look in Bucky’s eyes melts away and they fall into an easy rhythm, Sam sitting at the kitchen table and talking about some renovations he and Sarah would like to do to the house, Bucky cutting the vegetables to sauté.

They have moved on to argue about the best way to season chicken breasts – you cannot leave cayenne pepper out of the spice blend – when Sam catches a flash of white out of the corner of his eyes, and interrupts himself mid-rant.

A second later, Alpine jumps on the kitchen counter, sniffing the air.

It's been only three weeks since Sam last saw her, but she's already grown a lot, and looks much better too: her fur is shiny and clean, her eyes bright, and the slight sprain that caused her to limp around seems to be completely healed.

Alpine lets out a soft chirping sound and headbutts Bucky's arm, rubbing her head against him.

The smile Bucky turns to her is blinding, and Sam has to look away before he ends up doing something stupid, like climb over the table and kiss him.

“I know you're here for the chicken,” Bucky tells her, scratching her behind the ears. “But you can't eat this one.”

He scoops her up with a single hand, ignoring the disapproving meow that follows, and deposits her on the table right next to Sam's arm. Sam freezes, unprepared for the sudden proximity and recalling how quickly she can turn around and scratch, but as soon as Bucky's hand retreats, she is moving away, giving Sam a wide berth. She doesn't go back into hiding, though, just settles on the corner farther away from him and stares him down in a way that reminds him so much of Bucky, Sam doesn't know if he wants to laugh or cry.

He is also struck by the sudden need to make Alpine like him.

“Is she gonna maul me if I try to give her a treat?” Sam asks.

Bucky tilts his head, considering, which does very little to reassure Sam about the safety of his fingers.

“I wouldn’t try hand-feeding her,” Bucky answers, fishing out a bag of treats from one of the cupboards. “But she likes to chase them.”

Alpine observes with quiet intensity as Bucky dumps a few treats into Sam's hands, and when Sam tosses one a few feet away she jumps down the table and runs after it, grabs it with a paw.

“Alright,” Sam declares, “that's pretty cute.”

Sam spends the next few minutes throwing treats at Alpine, inching them closer and closer to himself to test how willing she is to get near him with the proper incentive. The last one he places right in front of his feet, then he sits back and waits. Alpine hesitates, eyes flitting between him and the treat as to evaluate if it's safe enough, until finally she starts to move, slowly, slowly. She gets close enough to stretch her paw out, pull the treat towards herself and take it out of reach to eat somewhere else. Sam still takes it as a win.

Bucky clears his throat and announces that dinner is ready, so Sam leaves Alpine alone and helps him set the table.

Dinner is nice. Bucky makes a glazed chicken with honey and garlic that it's to die for, which Sam finds utterly unfair, considering he comes from a time where spices were believed to be a menace to the public.

He still goes back for seconds, and by the time they move to the living room to watch the movie, Sam feels full and content.

He finds Alpine curled up on one end of the couch, and while he believes they made some progress in their relationship, he doesn’t think either of them is ready to bring it to the next level, so he takes the seat on the other side, careful not to disturb her.

Bucky doesn’t say anything about it, just flops down between Sam and the cat with ease, his knee bumping into Sam’s.

This week they are watching the second movie in The Hobbit trilogy, if only for the horrified look in Bucky’s face when Sam told him that not only they made a movie out of the book, but that they actually managed to stretch it into three. Bucky, it turns out, is one of those people who notices every little changes from the original material, disapproves of them on principle, and is very vocal about his displeasure, exactly like the old man he actually is.

Sam had almost fell off the couch laughing during the first movie, and it had taken him a while to convince Bucky to give the other two a chance. Maybe it was a little assholey of him, knowing that it only gets worse, but just because he likes the guy it doesn’t mean Sam doesn’t want to subject him to some bad cinema for his own entertainment. After all, that’s what friends are for.

It doesn't take long for the comments to start up again. Bucky holds up for thirty minutes, rolling his eyes and grumbling under his breath from time to time, but then Legolas and Tauriel show up and Bucky turns his head to look at Sam, face completely blank, says, “Who the fuck are these people.”

Sam bursts out laughing, and it only gets worse when they reach the scene between Kili and Tauriel in the Woodland Realm: Bucky throws his hands up, exclaims, “Oh, come on,” and starts complaining about how they made the dwarf hot just to add a romance. It has Sam in stitches, and he has to grab onto Bucky's shoulder to stay upright and not end up falling into Bucky's lap.

The tirade ends with Bucky sulking and shaking his head, and Sam is glad for the temporary reprieve just so he can catch his breath. He feels flushed and warm, cheeks hurting from smiling, and the quiet is comfortable, familiar.

After a while, his eyes grow heavy, and he realizes he nodded off only when a light weight sets on his shoulder, jerking him awake.

The movie has ended, screen back on the Netflix title page, and Bucky fell asleep as well, head drooping until it had come to rest against Sam’s body.

The metal arm is glinting gold and blue in the light, and Sam stares down at it, then up at the lines of Bucky’s face, the soft waves of his hair. It always surprises him how vulnerable Bucky looks like this, how younger, and it’s so hard to remember there was a time Sam had actually been scared of him, of what he could do. Now, he would trust Bucky with anything. His life, his family, his home. His heart, too, if Bucky ever wanted it.

Sam knows he should wake him up, send him to bed so he can sleep comfortably there while Sam stretches out on the couch, but he also knows that Bucky still has trouble sleeping sometimes, and Sam doesn't have the heart to wake him up if it isn't really necessary. He’s well aware it's also a little bit selfish, because it's nice, having Bucky this close, warm and solid and smelling of lemon.

Sam takes a deep breath and rests his head on top of Bucky's. He thought he could handle this thing he has for Bucky, keep it under control, but he’s starting to realize he might have actually underestimated the size of his own feelings, which could become a serious problem in the future.

For now, though, Sam closes his eyes and lets himself have this.

The next time Sam wakes up, it's to something walking all over him. He blinks against the sudden light and when his vision clears, he finds Alpine sitting on his lap.

Sam stares at her, wondering for a moment if he is still asleep and dreaming all of this up, but his neck is sore, his arm heavy from Bucky resting against it in his sleep; there’s the beginning of a headache pulsing behind is eyes, and a pressure in his bladder telling him he should probably get up.

Alpine sniffs at his shirt and Sam tentatively raises his free hand, strokes a finger between her ears. She leans into the touch, head tilting up and guiding Sam's hand under her chin. Sam tries really hard not to shriek with delight.

“Oh, you're a sweetheart,” he says, a grin spreading out across his face. “Just like your owner. All tough and fierce on the outside, but adorable and charming on the inside.”

Alpine meows back at him, like she agrees with that statement, and Sam tenses up, glances at the steady rise and fall of Bucky's chest.

“We gotta be quiet,” he tells Alpine, petting her down her side. “We don't want to wake him up.”

“I'm already awake,” comes Bucky's voice next to him.

Sam's entire body jerks in surprise, and Alpine leaps off him, startled.

“Man, don't you do that ever again,” Sam says, a hand placed over his chest. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

Bucky hums, sounding way more amused than he has any right to be, and sits up.

Blood rushes back into Sam's arm, and while Sam is glad to start feeling it again, he's already mourning the loss of contact between them. Except Bucky doesn't go far, just adjusts his position to angle his body towards Sam and rest his head on the back of the couch. It's easier to look at each other, like this, but they are now so close that Bucky's soft breaths are hitting the exposed line of skin above Sam's shirt, the hollow of his neck, making him shiver.

“So,” Bucky says, dragging the word out, lips tilting up at the corner. “I'm adorable and charming?”

Shit.

Of course Bucky would hear that, that's just Sam's luck. God, he is never going to speak again. He will take a vow of silence like in one of those monastic orders and move some place far and secluded where he won't be able to embarrass himself anymore.

He swallows, makes himself let out a laugh. It's meant to be mocking, but it sounds more nervous than anything else. “I think old age is making you hear things,” Sam still tries to deflect, “I clearly said annoying and self-centered.”

Bucky jabs him in the side with a metal finger. “Nice try, Samuel,” Bucky says, grinning widely. “But I've been told I'm a sweetheart.”

Sam's cheeks heat up. “I was talking about Alpine!”

He wonders if maybe T'Challa would let him hide in Wakanda for a while, just long enough for Sam to regain some kind of dignity. He hopes against all hopes that Bucky will have mercy of him and drop the subject, but of course Bucky doesn't. Sam wouldn't either, if their roles were switched.

“You said she is like her owner,” Bucky points pout, eyes bright and so very blue. He pokes Sam in the ribs again. “Which means, you think I’m a sweetheart, too.”

Sam bats his hand away. He may have embarrassed himself and he's lucky if he ends up this night without Bucky realizing Sam has feelings for him, but he is Captain frigging America. If he has to go down, he will go down fighting.

“What you are, it’s a nuisance,” Sam says. “And a creep. Who the hell pretends to be asleep when they are actually awake?”

“I wasn't pretending, you just assumed I was still sleeping.”

“Anyone would assume that, if you don't say anything.”

“I thought you were going to move as soon as you woke up, it's not my fault you didn't.”

“I was trapped between your heavy ass and your cat. What's your excuse for not moving?”

The argument comes to a halt, an awkward silence stretching between them as Bucky lowers his eyes, scratches the back of his neck. He clears his throat, shrugs.

“Your shoulder is nice,” he says in the end.

It's Bucky's turn to blush, a darker pink dusting his cheeks, and Sam feels like he missed something important.

“My shoulder?” Sam repeats.

Bucky doesn't answer him for a moment, then he straightens up on the couch, rolls back his shoulders like he is bracing himself. He looks up at Sam, and all Sam can see are his eyes.

“It’s comfortable,” Bucky whispers. “And I always sleep better when you’re around.”

Sam's mouth is suddenly very dry, and his heart is drumming against his chest in a way he has come to associate with diving down in midair, or dropping from a high place before his wings open up. This, too, feels a little like falling.

“Buck,” Sam says, because he thinks they are on the verge of something here, but he needs to be sure, doesn't want to mess this up and do something he's going to regret just because his head wants so desperately to see what's not actually there. “You gotta tell me if I'm reading this wro--”

Bucky kisses him.

It's a short kiss, just a soft press of Bucky's lips against his own and he's already gone, moving back to look at Sam with wide eyes, face open and vulnerable.

“Okay?” Bucky asks, and if he didn't sound so uncertain, like he's expecting Sam to push him away at any moment, Sam would laugh at how much of an idiot they both are.

Instead, he holds Bucky's chin between his fingers and pulls him back in. The kiss is deeper this time, turns into a wet slide of tongues and a harsh grate of stubble that makes Sam's insides feel tangled and hot. Bucky's arm slides around Sam's waist, and Sam moves his hand from Bucky's chin into his hair, grips it in a way that makes Bucky exhale sharply into his mouth. Sam wants to touch him everywhere, and he moves his free hand to do just that when a long, loud meow interrupts them.

They break apart just in time for Alpine to jump on the couch and sprawl in the space between them.

Bucky huffs out a small laugh, pets her from head to tail. He looks lovely, with his hair sticking up in odd places from Sam's fingers raking through it, his lips red from kissing, and Sam itches to go back for more, to lay him down and map every single part of Bucky's body with his mouth. He has, however, a horrible feeling about this.

“We will never be able to do anything with her around, won't we?” Sam asks, voicing his thoughts out loud.

Bucky sends him an amused smile. “Someone feels confident.”

Sam rolls his eyes, bumps their knees together. “Says the one who was about to climb on top of me.”

He's pretty sure he was the one grabbing and pulling Bucky closer, actually, but it doesn't seem like Bucky is going to call him out on it.

“It was a good kiss,” Bucky says, smile going soft at the edges, turning shyer.

“It really was,” Sam agrees, and because Sarah is always right, even if he'll never admit it in front of her, he adds, “Wanna go out on a proper dinner, see a movie? Maybe do the kissing part again?”

He's not expecting the way Bucky's lips drop down at those words, and Sam's heart sinks. Maybe he did read this wrong, after all. Maybe Bucky wanted to keep things casual, no string attached, and Sam just ruined everything. He tries to tell himself it was better to know that now, before things got too serious on his side, but it gives him very little comfort.

Bucky takes a deep breath, lets it out in a huff. “I don’t know, man,” he says. “If you make me watch another one of these godawful movies I’m afraid I'm gonna have to break up with you before this relationship even starts.”

Sam blinks at him, then bursts out laughing, sudden and loud. “God, you're an asshole,” he declares, but there's no heat behind it, and when he searches for Bucky's hand, Bucky intertwines their fingers together, places a kiss on the back of Sam's hand as an apology.

“I’m lucky you have terrible tastes, then,” Bucky says.

Sam really has questionable tastes, and if you had told him a few years ago that this was how his life was going to turn out, he would have probably laughed, or worse, tried to stop it from happening. But now, sitting there with Bucky grinning at him and Alpine purring between them, he feels lucky too.

[iheartgarrus]

MERweek 2021 - Day 2: Long Time No See

Yes, I know we’re almost done with Day 3 already (in my time zone anyway), but I’m going at my own pace on these things. Meet Viola’s mom! Viola has a backstory adapted from the Earthborn and Spacer backgrounds - you don’t need to know all about it to read this, but there are little references. If you’re curious, I summarized it here.

Not sold on this title. Doesn’t quite work tonally, I don’t think. But I picked it because it’s a lyric from my mom’s favorite song. This takes place a few months after Shepard’s arrest post-Arrival. Fair warning: this is seriously nothing but talking.

Title (working): Darlin’, May I Intrude? Rating: T Content: Language; rocky mother/daughter relationship Pairing: Viola Shepard & Hannah Shepard (faint background Shakarian) Genre: Family/General  Word Count: 1160

“Commander,” the young MP on guard duty greeted when she opened the door.

They weren’t supposed to call her that, but none of them could seem to figure out what to call her instead. Another had tried “Ms. Shepard” once - he’d immediately grimaced like he had food poisoning and never said it again. She told them just Shepard was fine, but, no matter what the brass said, they saw her a certain way. She let it go - at least this one wasn’t saluting her. “Yes, Lance Corporal Kabinoff?” she asked. And if she sounded a little annoyed, well, it was getting late and Shepard was just sinking into her book - god, this whole house arrest thing was turning her into an old lady.

“You have a visitor, ma’am,” Kabinoff replied before stepping off to the side, and Shepard got a glimpse about 15 years into her future.

She’d always vehemently denied that there was any resemblance between her and her mother, but something - distance, death, whatever - had changed that. She definitely saw it now, and it gave her a pang of familial fondness she was unaccustomed to. “Mom,” she said quietly.

Hannah smiled, her eyes wet. “Hey, Vi. Got time to catch up?”

Shepard blinked a few times, thrown off balance by the old nickname. Only one person had called her that in the last few years, and she was trying very hard to keep her mind off of him. She swallowed and set her jaw, moving to let her mother inside and closing the door.

Viola took a deep breath and turned to face Hannah. She had to look down at her - she had been the taller one since the first time they’d reunited 17 years ago. “I didn’t think they’d let you visit,” she said. She folded her arms across her chest, a silent signal that she wasn’t ready to be touched. Her mom was demonstrative in her affection, but it was only ever on Viola’s terms.

Hannah gave her space, moving to look out the window. “I had to ask a few times. Luckily, Admiral Anderson has a soft spot for you and me, so he cleared the way.” She smiled softly at the Vancouver skyline.

Viola huffed a laugh. “What are you gonna do if he ever cashes in on all the favors you owe him?”

Hannah turned and caught her eye for a moment. “I think you knocked out a few of them taking out Sovereign and making him Councillor,” she quipped.

“Are you kidding? I don’t think he’ll ever forgive me for making him play politics.”

“Hmm,” Hannah hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe if you beat the Reapers he’ll call it even.”

Viola’s posture relaxed a bit, and she stepped up next to her mother, joining her in staring out the window. “So… you believe me?”

Hannah’s head whipped around to face her. “What?! Vi, of course I believe you. I was at the Citadel - I saw that thing!”

Viola shrugged. “So did the Council. So did millions of other people. Still feels like the only people who believe the Reapers are real are the ones who were on my crew. And… fucking Cerberus, I guess.”

Hannah scoffed. “‘Geth ship’ my squishy human ass,” she muttered. “That was the joke of the century, and trust me, I’m not the only one who thinks so. You’ve got more friends than you think in the Alliance, even if the higher ups won’t admit it.”

“Friends will help,” Viola said with a sigh, “but we won’t get very far without actual preparation. And I can’t do shit locked up in here.”

There wasn’t much Hannah could say to that - she was right, and they were both powerless to do anything about it. They stood there in silence for a few minutes, watching a shuttle take off from the spaceport a few kilometers from the base and basking in each other’s presence in their own way. Eventually, Viola’s arms loosened and fell to her sides, and her gaze dropped to the floor. “Mom…” she whispered. “I’m afraid I fucked up.”

“Oh, Vi,” Hannah soothed. She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders and pulled her closer. “I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re going through, and apparently the details are classified. But I know you’ve never taken death lightly. I know that whatever the hell happened in that system, you made the call you had to make. If you had fucked up, you would admit it. You wouldn’t be saying you were afraid - you would be sure of it, and you would own up to it, because that’s the kind of person you’ve always been.”

Viola shook her head. “Heh. You sound like…” She trailed off, pinching the bridge of her nose - she was not going to cry about this again.

Hannah rubbed Viola’s shoulder. “Whoever I sound like must be pretty smart.”

Viola took a deep breath to gather herself. “Smarter than he thinks he is, to be honest. At least about this kind of stuff. Arrogant as hell about other things.” Fuck. She wasn’t supposed to be thinking about him, and she definitely wasn’t supposed to be talking about him.

“Should I ask?” Hannah was trying not to smile.

“No.”

“Point taken. But, listen.” She stepped around in front of Viola, encouraging her to meet her eyes. She did, after a moment. “Whatever hell rains down on us, I have your back. I’ll always have your back. So will Anderson. So will your crew, I’m sure. I know you’re going to give this fight everything you can, but you need to remember you aren’t in it alone. Let some of your people help carry the burden, or there won’t be any of you left.”

Viola turned away - she felt her walls instinctively going up, though she tried to fight it. She was no good at this sort of thing.

Hannah sighed. “I’m sorry, Vi. I know. And you know how much I wish things had been different. But that’s not your life anymore. You have people.”

After a few tense seconds, Viola nodded a couple of times, her posture still rigid. “Yeah. Yeah.”

Hannah stepped back, letting her breathe. “I have to ship back out in the morning. I can head to the barracks if you want - no hard feelings.”

Viola finally looked at her again. “Are you even allowed to stay?”

Her mother shrugged with a light smirk. “They didn’t tell me I wasn’t.”

“Well,” Viola said, trying to smile a little in return. “House arrest is pretty fucking lonely. A little company might not kill me.”

“Ha!” Hannah barked. “‘Might not kill you’? Is that a bit of a joke I hear?”

“Mm. Trying to lighten up a little. But I do want you to stay. I…”

She didn’t finish her sentence, but Hannah knew what she was leaving unsaid. She tucked a lock of hair behind her daughter’s ear. “Yeah. Me too, kid.”