#whoever i wanna be in contact with i still text someone individually like i don’t need to be in a group setting to be friends with this

[cyberbullyinc]

😐

[carry-the-sky]

Kastle + 2 for the touch writing prompts 💕

based on the prompt: a touch with relief

also on ao3

shout out to @onebatch2batch and @ninzied 💕

.

She’s late.

Frank’s eyes dart to his phone. Screen’s dark, same as it was when he glanced at it a minute ago. No missed calls, no texts. He swigs his coffee, more to swallow down the muted panic in his throat than anything else.

“Fresh cup for your friend, honey?”

Frank looks up. The waitress—Jo, her name tag reads—is nodding at the mug of coffee he ordered for Karen when he got here.

His eyes linger on it a moment before he shakes his head. “I’m good, ma’am. She’s, uh—she’s on her way.”

Frank must look as keyed-up as he feels, because Jo offers him a gentle smile. “You got it,” she says. “Just holler when she gets here, okay?”

Then she’s walking off. Probably assumes he got stood up by a date, and hell—he almost wishes that’s what this was. At least he could shrug that off, carry on with his day instead of sitting across from an empty booth, chest slowly going tight with dread.

Frank pushes back from the table, forces himself to breathe. Maybe something came up at work—a deadline got pushed up or a source backed out last-minute and Ellison’s got her holed up at the office doing damage control—

His hand twitches for his phone. They’ve been meeting for lunch pretty regularly for the past month or so, but Karen always shoots him a text the day before to confirm. He scans her last message in their thread—Tomorrow still good? Same place as last week?—and something in his chest twinges. Maybe it’s an occupational hazard, or maybe it’s just her way of making sure he won’t bail—either way, Frank can’t blame her. He’s far from atoning for the way he left things that day at the hospital. It’s a small miracle she let him back into her life at all.

Frank’s eyes flick to the time at the top of the screen. It’s going on twenty past the hour. Hell with it—maybe he’s being paranoid, but his gut says something’s off. He hits the call button next to her name.

It goes straight to voicemail.

His pulse stutters. It doesn’t mean anything, it doesn’t mean—

He tries her again.

Hi, you’ve reached Karen Page. Please leave your name and number and I’ll get back—

Shit. Frank swipes over to his contacts, scrolls until he finds the number for the Bulletin’s front desk.

“New York Bulletin,” a cheerful voice answers on the second ring. “How may I direct your call?”

“Is Karen Page in?” he asks, straining to keep his voice steady.

He knows what the answer will be, but it still lands like a gut-punch when the receptionist tells him that Ms. Page is currently out of the office. His hand is shaking when he hangs up.

Jo is making the rounds again, and Frank doesn’t miss the sympathetic glance she shoots in his direction. He takes a deep breath through his nose, slow and steady to counter the hammer of his heart. He needs to focus, think.

Hanging around her office is a non-starter—he’s let his beard grow out, but his face has been plastered across the front page enough times that the damn receptionist would probably recognize him now. He could try Karen’s place on the off chance she ran home—

Frank’s fingers twitch against his phone. He should get up, move, do something other than sit here with this familiar tension cranking up his sternum. One thought spins on a turntable in his head—something’s wrong. Something’s wrong. He let his guard down, let himself breathe for one goddamn second, and now—if something happened to her—

The world narrows, tilts like a kaleidoscope. He needs air.

He’s dimly aware of standing, tossing a few bills on the table before he’s out the door. The street is thick with noise—people laying on their horns, distant sirens, someone shouting. He focuses on each individual sound, anchors his breath to the steady thrum of the city around him.

He’s not sure how long he stands there—a few minutes, maybe. Long enough for his vision to stop swimming, for the pounding in his ears to subside. Long enough to register his phone, buzzing in his hand.

Her number’s flashing across the screen.

Frank fumbles to answer, almost dropping his phone in the process. “Karen, hey—”

“Frank,” she replies, and relief floods his veins at the sound of her voice. “I’m so sorry—my phone decided to automatically update right as I was leaving for lunch, and then when you didn’t show—I was getting worried.”

He frowns, trying to process her words. “Where—where are you?”

“Sal’s. Why, didn’t you—” she pauses. “Wait, did you go to Cinco’s?”

Frank turns her text from last night over in his head. Same place as last week. They definitely grabbed lunch at Cinco’s—he’d ordered extra steak fries with his burger, just to let her swipe a few from his plate—but, shit, that’s right—they’d swung by a new place afterwards for dessert, some local café that had just opened.

We should try this place for lunch sometime, Karen had said in between bites of her raspberry scone. Frank remembers the dusting of sugar across her upper lip, remembers the small heart attack it gave him when she’d licked it clean.

“Think there might’ve been a misunderstanding,” he tells her now, cheeks warm. Karen just laughs in response as it all clicks together, and Frank lets the sound wash over him, the warmth of it dissolving the tension in his chest. She’s laughing. She’s okay.

“Lesson learned,” she says. “Be more specific. And make sure the phone isn’t going to update.”

“Wouldn’t be a problem if you had one like mine.”

“Not a chance. There’s old-fashioned, and then there’s prehistoric.” There’s a beat of silence, and he knows she’s smiling on the other end of the line. “Listen, I have to head back early today, but are you free for lunch tomorrow? I owe you some fries from Cinco’s, at the very least.”

“Works for me,” Frank says. “Sure you don’t wanna write that down, just to be safe? That’s C-I-N—”

“Shut up, Frank.”

It’s his turn to grin. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” she echoes.

He stays on the line until she hangs up, weightless with relief even as his blood still hums with adrenaline. It was just a miscommunication—but when his eyes squeeze shut, he’s right back in that hotel watching Lewis drag her into the elevator, praying to whoever the fuck was listening that she’d still be breathing when he got to her.

He knew, even then, what it would mean to lose her. Lose her without her ever knowing—

Make it mean something.

About damn time he did.

.

Karen’s waiting for him when he gets there the next day, sitting in the same booth he was. Her eyes snap to him as he pushes through the front door, and then she’s standing, and somehow before he’s fully aware it’s happening, he’s pulling her close, burying his face in the slope of her neck, breathing her in.

She’s warm. Her arms cinch around his shoulders, drawing him in even closer, and he smells something floral, soft and clean when her hair brushes his cheek. They stay like that a moment, holding onto each other—then she gently pulls back, and the loss of contact aches like a bruise. As he slides into the booth across from her, it’s all he can do to keep from reaching for her again.

Jo comes by with coffee, gives Frank a wink that could be seen from outer space as she slides Karen a mug. When he ducks a glance at Karen, she’s pressing her lips together like she’s trying not to smile.

“How long were you sitting here yesterday?” she asks.

Frank grips his own mug tightly to keep his fingers from shaking. “Not long. Felt like—longer than it was.”

He tries to keep his voice light, but he never did have a very good poker face. And they don’t do that. They don’t lie to each other.

When he looks again, Karen’s face has softened. She reaches across the table, rests a hand against his forearm. “Frank—”

He recognizes her tone of voice, knows she’s about to apologize for something that’s not her fault. After all his bullshit, everything he’s put her through—she’s still the one telling him she’s sorry. She’s still all heart. The ache in his chest digs its roots in, blooms until he can hardly breathe.

“Hey.” He tilts his head to catch her gaze, holds it. “I’m good. Yeah? Might chuck your phone in the Hudson first chance I get, but—”

He’s hoping the jab will pull a smile from her, and it almost does. Her mouth crinkles at the corners. “Still,” she says. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

He just looks at her—eyes bright and blue and open, and shit, he’s gonna kick himself for the rest of his life for taking his sweet time telling her exactly what she means to him. He slowly turns his arm until his hand grazes her wrist, her palm, and then he’s threading his fingers through hers.

“I’m always gonna worry, Karen. I know you can handle yourself, that’s not what—” he cuts off as she gives his hand a gentle squeeze, swallows thickly before saying— “You’re the most important person in my life. You’re everything. I’m never gonna not worry.”

Now she’s smiling, mouth curved like a moon as she looks down at his hand in hers. “You mean that, Frank?”

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get off my ass about it, but—this thing, Karen, you and me—if you’re in, I’m in. I’m all in.”

He’s not sure it’s happening until it’s happening—one second Karen’s leaning across the booth, the next her lips are on his.

He barely has time to process the softness of her mouth, the warmth of her hand cupping his jaw, before she’s sitting back, looking as stunned as he feels.

“I take it back,” he says, a little hoarse. “What I said about your phone. Damn thing should update every day.”

Karen just laughs, and they both lean in again.

[zimms]

an olliewicks flower shop au to soothe the soul! this is somewhat based on mine and @tingo-tango’s tags on this post. 

fields of flowers, soft beneath my heels

Ollie’s wrist-deep in a pot of soil, sweat rolling down his cheeks and sunlight streaming through the windows of Faber’s Flowers, when the shop’s bell rings and a new customer stumbles through the door. Ollie frowns slightly and hastily wipes the beads of sweat off his chin with the corner of his shirt, before plastering on his best customer service smile to greet whoever needs flowers at 7:30 am on a Tuesday morning. He mentally catalogues the possibilities; maybe they’ve forgotten their spouse’s birthday? Or maybe it’s a gift for someone at work? Maybe it’s an apology present because they accidentally cycled into a fruit stall and ruined a fresh batch of melons? 

(Okay, maybe not, but it would be a refreshing change in the cycle of constant businessmen grovelling for their partner’s forgiveness)

Ollie shakes himself from his thoughts and grins across the counter at the customer, who’s sporting a baseball cap and a t-shirt that sits just right across his broad shoulders. Ollie’s eyes track down the guy’s biceps which are a tad too big for the sleeves. Ollie consciously shut his mouth to stop himself from gaping; this guy was hot. As Ollie’s gaze roams across the customer’s face to meet his eyes, he realises three things. Number one is that he definitely shouldn’t be ogling a customer like he’s a piece of meat. Number two is that he hasn’t said anything to this guy yet. Number three is that at least a minute of awkward silence and staring has passed since the customer entered the shop. 

Ollie rips his eyes away from the customer’s face to stare at a spot slightly behind his left shoulder. “Hi! What can I help you with today?”

The guy shifts on the balls of his feet, scanning the shelves of bouquets and individual flowers. “Erm, I’m looking for a bouquet of flowers for my mom?” His voice raises at the end of his sentence, which is kind of cute, if Ollie does say so. He rubs the back of his neck and his checks flush pink. “I kinda need to apologise to her.”

Ah, a classic apology scenario. Got it. 

“What’s the apology for?” Ollie asks as he turns to the sink behind the counter to wash his hands. “Not that you have to tell me that is; it just might help as we make the bouquet.” He unravels the roll of tissue paper and cuts off a square to package the flowers in. 

Hot Guy winces. “Ah,” he says, “I kinda got into a fight in front of her the other night. She was not happy to say the least, so I figured I might as well get her some flowers to apologise for it.” 

“Cool, cool.” Ollie grins at him. “What kinda flowers do you want for her?” He gestured to the whole shop, where various buckets of flowers lined the walls, each displaying a different species. “We can get her just a plain old bunch that’s all just the same type of flower, or we could mix and match, create a nice piece of artwork that she’ll admire rather than a bunch that’s boring and all the same.”

Hot Guy’s eyes flick up from the counter and meet Ollie’s own, moving slowly up his body. If Ollie was feeling particularly optimistic, he’d say the guy was checking him out, but he pushes that thought to the corner of his mind because he’s made way too many faux-pas in the past by asking out guys that have come into the shop just for all of them to be straight. Hot Guy clears his throat. “Yeah, a mixture sounds good. I know her favourite flowers are hyacinths if that helps?”

“That’s perfect.” Ollie shoots him the most reassuring smile he can think of, eyes softening. He grabs the bucket of blue hyacinths that sit behind him. “These alright?” 

“Yeah, those are great,” Hot Guy says a little hoarsely, squinting at Ollie’s name tag, “Ollie.” Something settles in Hot Guy’s voice and he seems a bit more comfortable. 

“So, why'd you get into a fight in front of your mom?” Ollie reaches for the bucket of Narcissus behind him and waves a bunch at Hot Guy for affirmation. He nods in return. “Doesn’t seem like the best idea to me-” Ollie trails off, hoping that Hot Guy might get the hint and finally introduce himself. 

“Oh, uh, Pacer.” He coughs and the remaining tension leaks out of his posture. “Nah, a guy said something about Ma, and you know, I had to rush to defend her like the rash idiot I am.” 

Ollie laughs. “At least, it’s one of the more noble reasons to get into a fight. There’s a bit more chance of forgiveness, then.”

Pacer nods and his gaze wanders away from where Ollie is deftly making the bouquet to settle on the purple Clematis. 

“You like them?” Ollie makes a ‘gimme’ motion with his hands and Pacer passes the bucket over to him. Their hands briefly brush each other during the exchange and Ollie does everything in his power to ignore the jolt that goes through him at that brief skin to skin contact. “You’ve got a good eye; I was just about to grab them myself.”

“Yeah, my mom loves blue and yello-” Pacer cuts himself off with a sneeze. “Also, aren’t they the colours of the local hockey team around here? The Falcons?” Although he has a completely clueless tone to his voice, Pacer is studying Ollie’s reaction as if it might reveal the secrets of the universe. 

“Yeah, the Falcs! I only get to see them every so often, but they’re great,” Ollie says, doing his level best to ignore Pacer’s sudden intensity. “I was actually on the same team as Jack Zimmermann in college, which was pretty cool.”

“Really?” Pacer’s enigmatic expression becomes even more indecipherable. “That is pretty cool.” He looks slightly over his shoulder towards the street before meeting Ollie’s eyes and flashing a genuine smile at him. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself, you know.”

Ollie tries to convince himself that the bubble of excitement that rushes through him is because Pacer is such a good conversationalist and not for any other reason, like the fact that they have a couple of things in common, or that Pacer is one of the hottest guys he’s ever seen. 

(He fails.)

_X_

Pacer leaves about forty minutes later, with a bouquet and handwritten note in hand and a smile fixed firmly on his face. When Ollie goes to scrub down the counter and start repotting the plant he’d abandoned when Pacer had arrived, he spots a scrap of paper that definitely hadn’t been there before. The note is pretty cute; it’s a string of numbers and a smiley face, accompanied by a couple of lines from Pacer.

Would you like to go I would have asked you out earlier, but my tea friend always says it’s bad form to hit on workers whilst they’re on shift. Anyway, here’s my number if you want to go out some time? Call m Don’t worry if you don’t though!

- Pacer 

Ollie grins as he opens up his phone to add the number to his contacts, but pauses as he sees a Google Alert come through that he’s set up for the Falcs. The text reads, Providence Falconers acquire forward Pacer Wicks from Colorado Avalanche in exchange for a second round pick in the 2022 NHL Draft, and immediately underneath the caption, Pacer’s smiling face stares out at him. 

Pacer’s voice echoes in his mind. “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.”

Played a bit of hockey himself? Ollie cannot believe this guy. He plays in the fucking NHL and all he says is “I actually played a bit of hockey myself.” 

However, Ollie thinks as he opens up the article to see a picture of a bruised Pacer from his last game with the Avs, it would explain why he needed to apologise for fighting in front of his mom. 

_X_

Now that Ollie is aware of Pacer Wicks’ existence, he seems to follow him everywhere. Well, not Pacer exactly, but his name. 

It begins, like many things, at the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” the cashier asks, as she’s scanning his groceries two days after Pacer first came into the florist’s. “Are you that hockey player? Pacer Wicks?” 

Ollie furrows his eyebrows. He doesn’t think that him and Pacer look that similar, but then again, Pacer’s only been in Providence a couple of days, so people don’t exactly know what he looks like yet. “No, sorry.”

The cashier purses her lips, taking a moment to study him again before ringing him up. “Huh, sorry! You guys just look really alike is all.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Ollie gathers up his groceries. “These things happen sometimes.”

(He almost texts Pacer to tell him about it, but, as Ollie looks at the clock on his phone, he realises that Pacer probably isn’t going to want to receive a message about how someone thought they looked similar mid-way through his game against the Pens.

Also, he’d have to wish him luck and honestly, as much as Ollie loves the Falcs, he wouldn’t wish them too much luck against his hometown team.)

_X_

ollie

hey! i’ve finished off that other apology bouquet for your ma!

let me know when you want to swing by and pick it up!

also i was watching the game tonight; do you need me to make up another identical one for your ma, or do you wanna come into the shop to choose this one?

pacer

thanks ol! i’ll probably swing by to pick it up tomorrow and then help make the next one at the same time?

ollie

sounds like a plan!!

_X_

When he said these things happen sometimes to that cashier in the grocery store, he didn’t expect them to happen all the goddamn time. Be it at his favourite café, on the street, or on the commuter rail, someone always, always, asks if he’s Pacer Wicks. 

_X_

ollie

oof that hit from eriksen looks like it’s gonna leave a mark

pacer

yeah, half my face is swollen

ollie

yikes

pacer

i assume we’re still on for dinner in a couple of days right?

even if my stunning visage has been marred by the fists of a schooner

ollie

that was a very weird way of putting it

but yeah, i still wanna go out with you even if your face looks like a dodgeball

_X_

A girl taps him on the shoulder at Bitty’s Bites downtown. “Excuse me, are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie smiles sheepishly at her, brandishing his coffee cup with a scrawled Oily on it as if it might keep the Pacer Wicks fans away. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong dude.”

He hurries out of there as quickly as his legs can take him after that, hands fumbling for his phone so that he can text Pacer about it.

ollie

jdshjkdsjh a girl just asked if i was you

pacer

oh?

ollie

yeah, i don’t really know why so many people ask if i’m you

especially as they usually ask when you’re on a roadie??

so i don’t get why they know who you are without knowing the falcs’ schedules

pacer

maybe they’re a fan of my dashing good looks rather than my hockey?

isn’t that why you agreed to go out with me after all?

Ollie grins to himself before sending back three words.

don’t push it

_X_

He’s less generous to the guy on the commuter rail, but in fairness that’s mainly because he stole the last seat just before Ollie could get there and it’s 6:30 in the morning. 

“Hey, aren’t you that hockey pl-?”

Ollie barely looks up from his phone before cutting him off with a sharp “No.”

_X_

Today, someone even asks him at the flower shop.

“No,” he says, heaving the deepest sigh he can whilst still remaining in customer service mode, “I think Pacer Wicks might have other things to do on a Saturday afternoon than work the till at a flower shop.” He shuts the cash drawer on the register with a bang and hands the customer their change and bouquet as quickly as he can. “Thank you for shopping with us! Enjoy your day!” 

He collapses back onto the wooden stool that he keeps behind the counter, taking a breather for approximately five seconds before a laugh echoes through the shop. Ollie jumps half a foot in the air before locating Pacer, who’s stood in the corner of the shop inspecting a piece of sea holly. 

He’s dressed up pretty nicely considering hockey players’ notoriously bad fashion sense, wearing a button-up, a nice pair of jeans that do all the right things for his hockey butt, and his ever-present baseball cap, but this time, unlike his first visit to the shop, it’s sat backwards on his head. He spins around to face the back of the shop, grinning his face off. “I’m impressed by the fact that she asked you that whilst I was standing in the shop and she still didn’t notice me.” He laughs, smirking across at Ollie. “Does that happen often?”

“Yeah, some people are surprisingly oblivious sometimes,” he says, “but also, I don’t look that much like you?” He pauses, trying to work out what Pacer’s face means. He places his hands on his hips and jokingly rounds on Pacer. “Do I?” 

Pacer chuckles, taking a few steps closer so that he’s leaning against the counter. “Not that much, but would it be so bad if you looked like me?” A mock-wounded expression plays across his features as he presses his hand to his chest. 

Ollie takes off his apron and hangs it up behind the counter. “Nope, because you are extremely hot.” He threads his fingers through the hockey player’s belt loops to pull him closer, feeling emboldened by Pacer’s flirting. “And if that means that people are inadvertently calling me hot whilst asking if I’m you?” He shrugs. “I can live with it.”

Pacer has to lower his gaze to meet Ollie’s eyes, the two inch height difference between them clearly obvious, even if Ollie is six foot, thank you very much. “You were right about something though,” Pacer murmurs, “I do have better things to do than stand in a flower shop on a Saturday afternoon.”

“Like what?” Ollie raises an eyebrow.

Pacer smiles softly down at him, taking his hand and interlacing his fingers with Ollie’s. “Like taking the cute florist that works there on a date for starters.” Pacer starts to move them towards the shop’s entrance. “There’s this lit-” He sneezes abruptly.

Ollie tilts Pacer’s head downwards. “That’s like the fourth time you’ve sneezed in the shop.” He rubs his thumb over his cheek, frowning when he sees that Pacer’s eyes are slightly red. “Are you okay?”

Pacer waves him off. “Yeah, it’s fine; my antihistamines just wore off.”

His-? Ollie furrows his eyebrows before leading his date out of the shop. “Pacer, are you allergic to flowers?” 

“No?” Pacer’s sheepish and slightly bunged up reply says everything that Ollie needs to know.

“Fuck, Pace, why have you been coming to the shop so much if you’re allergic? Surely you don’t like the aesthetics of flowers that much that you need to torture your sinuses every spare minute of the day.” Ollie pinches the bridge of his nose, voice full of exasperation.

Pacer holds his hands up in surrender. “In my defence, the first few times were because I did need to buy Ma flowers, but I didn’t keep coming back because the flowers were pretty.” He pulls Ollie close and frames his face with his hands. “I came back because the florist was.”

_X_

The final time Ollie is mistaken for Pacer is five years later as he’s heading towards the arena for Pacer’s final game of the season. In fairness, dressed in a Wicks jersey and a Falcs snapback, he probably looks more like Pacer now than he has at any time since he first got mistaken for him in the grocery store. 

“Excuse me?” A teenager taps him on the shoulder, their arm slung around a friend. “Are you Pacer Wicks?”

Ollie grins at the kid. “Nope,” he says, trying not to take too much joy in the hope fading from the fan’s eyes before he drops the bombshell, “I am his husband though.”

“Really?” The teenager’s eyes light up. “You’re not kidding, right?”

“Nope.” Ollie holds up his phone screen to show the kid a photo of Pacer kissing his cheek, just so that they know he’s not lying. “D’you wanna meet him after the game?” He smirks at them. “After all, I do know a guy.”

[fablesrose]

Tell Me a Story 1

Description: The local mafia has served Y/n well previously, but with the way things are going now, enough is enough. Instead of getting out, why not take everything down? So she makes a few calls, but things don’t always go to plan.

Word count: 2,205

Pairing: cop!Dean x mafia!reader

Square filled: fake dating

Warnings: none this chapter

Masterlist ~ Bingo Masterlist

Remaining parts will be in the Bingo Masterlist

A/n: This is for @girl-next-door-writes‘s Make Me Feel Bingo. I wanted to write a specific scene and then made a whole AU in order for this to work and it became infinitely more complicated than it needed to be. Enjoy! 

“Tell me a story.”

Chuck was a dangerous man. He didn’t look it, but he had an eye and a leash where you would never expect it all over the city. No one knew what he wanted, what his end goal was, maybe that was what made him dangerous.

Those words made me nervous. Chuck loved a good story and if the man next to me didn’t tell one up to his standard, then it wouldn’t end well for either of us.

This was all my idea. It was me who got the cops involved. I couldn’t take it anymore.

“Sam, I know you don’t want to hear from me, but-”

“What do you need?”

“The Fallen isn’t doing too hot right now.”

“I can help you get out Y-”

“It’s not as simple as when you slipped between the cracks Sam,” I hissed at him through the phone. I don’t know why I even tracked him down, he had a good life now, but I needed to do something.

“Simple? You know it wasn’t simple.” Sam sounded offended.

“Exactly. It wasn’t when you did it, and like Hell is it simple now. It’s a thousand times worse in every way since you left. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where to go.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll figure something out.”

“Thanks- Someone’s coming, don’t contact me in any way for at least four days. You know the drill.” I hung up the phone and went on my daily business.

Four days later I received a text with a phone number in it, “He’s clean. He’ll help.”

I saved the number in my phone and deleted the conversation. I had to tread lightly.

I tried to control my anxiety. If I was found out I wouldn’t be surprised if Chuck burned the whole city to the ground.

So needless to say I did a fantastic job of hiding my anxiety.

Eventually, when I was sure that I was alone I pulled up the number Sam gave me. I guess it was now or never.

The phone rang a couple of times before a man picked up and rattled off his law enforcement credentials and his name. Okay, maybe this guy could help me.

I took a deep breath and spoke out loud the sentence I had been practicing in my head for the last few days which was a risk in and of itself, “I’m a high ranking member of The Fallen and would like to be of assistance in taking down the current, highly wanted, leader of said… organization.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the line, “Pardon?”

I sighed, my anxiety creeping back in, but what came out was an annoyed clip, “I said I’d like to snitch on my boss, a highly wanted individual, now can you help me get rid of him, or did Sam lie to me?”

“You know Sam?”

“Well, no der.” I tried to calm my beating heart, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like a mistake, “I’m sorry for wasting your time, this was a mistake.”

“No no, wait.” I heard him swallow, “I’m going to talk to some people, let me see what I can do okay?”

My voice cracked, “Okay.”

The call ended, and all I could think was, Well there’s no backing out now.

Never before had I felt like I was in a dystopian novel more than this chapter of my life. I was nervous, like even the TVs were watching my every move to see if I was thinking traitorous thoughts, straight out of “1984.”

Every meeting, every glance in my direction, every moment of silence, and I swore everyone there already knew what I had done. But I kept a straight face in the serious moments, laughed when it was polite, and I wasn’t dead yet.

The day came when I met him in person. The safest place I could think of was my apartment. I paced back and forth for the whole afternoon constantly watching the clock, then it seemed like ten minutes after four it was six o’clock already. He was due to my doorstep any minute now.

A knock came to the door and I felt stone cold.

Slow steps took me to the sound. I opened the door a crack to see who it was. A tall man stood on the other side, in casual clothes thank goodness. He was casually looking around, but to the trained eye, I could tell he was watching to see if anyone was paying special attention.

“Yes?” Don’t give too much away, don’t volunteer any information. Yet.

He finally focused on me and I took into account the strong structure to his face, one could either call him intimidating or handsome, depending on his mood. Right now he was walking the line while leaning towards the former.

“I believe you’ve been expecting me,” he spoke quietly, his voice sounded very similar to the one I heard on the phone, but one could never be too careful.

“Oh? And what’s the connection between us?” I hoped my face was perfect innocence, but I knew my eyes were calculating and cautious.

“Sam.”

I closed the door to unlock the chain. I quickly let him in.

“I assume it’s safe here?” His eyes scanned the room, looking for anything that could be a problem.

I locked the door behind him, “As safe a place as any. I personally had soundproofing installed. Not many people come here, less chance for bugs. Neighbors are friendly, mostly elderly couples.”

“I was going to say, pretty small apartment for someone in the mob,” he extended a hand for me to shake, “Dean Winchester.”

I huffed, “Yeah, it’s kinda my job to blend in. Not all of us have Hollywood mansions. I glanced at him from the kitchen as I grabbed two glasses, “I see height runs in the family.”

“Somethin’ like that,” Dean sat on the couch in the living room.

I handed him a drink, “So...”

“So indeed,” he swirled the liquid in the glass before setting it on the side table, “I’m currently being transferred from the my current department a couple hours away to the local PD. Once that’s done I will be going under cover. You will be my in. Does that work?”

I drained my own drink, “Swimmingly.” I set my own glass on the floor by the feet of the chair I was sitting in, “I honestly can’t believe I’m doing this.” I spoke it mostly to myself, but he heard it all the same.

“Yeah, why are you doing this? What made you join in the first place only to try and tear it all down?”

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the chair. I guess I should have seen the question coming. “I joined The Fallen when I was a lot younger. Why does anyone join the mafia?”

“Protection, a safe place to do illegal things, they’re desperate?”

I chuckled, “And usually somewhere to belong, but yeah, you hit the nail on the head. I was desperate. Nowhere to go. And let’s leave it at that.” I started cleaning my fingernails, my hands needing something to do. “It was a classic mafia back then. Don’t mess with us, we don’t mess with you. If you do, you better watch your back. It was okay. It was safe. That was under this guy named Nick. He’s in prison now, but you probably knew that already.”

Dean nodded his head.

“In the power vacuum he left behind, I helped get your brother out. Covered his tracks, but there wasn’t anyone to follow them. Sounds like he’s got a nice life now.”

“Why didn’t you get out with him?”

“Still didn’t have anywhere to go. Sam, he’s smart. Got back into school, had a nice girl waiting for him on the other side. I didn’t have any of that.  The Fallen was all I had, figured this was better than being on the run from myself.” I sighed, “Anyway, Crowley comes in. He’s a businessman at heart. He  made the community safer. Kept local businesses afloat. It felt like we were doing something good.”

I smiled to myself. Happier times.

“I guess I got soft.” I looked up from my hands into his serious face, “Now Chuck has the whole city wrapped around his twisted finger. No one knows what he wants. He’s got no honor system-”

Dean scoffed.

“Hey, it might not have been much, but Crowley and Nick? They had their own code that if you knew what it was, then nothing surprised you. Chuck’s a wild card. He’s destroying everything good about this place, and like it or not, I don’t. And if I can do something about it, I’m going to. Okay?”

Dean set his jaw and nodded.

“So how do you wanna play this mister hot shot cop?”

“That’s a good question, one that you are gonna answer.”

I raised my eyebrows, “Oh?”

He shifted to a more relaxed position on the couch, “Yup. You’re the expert, so how are you gonna bring me in? I’ve got to observe, gather information and evidence, and hopefully set him up so we can catch him in the act of doing something ‘life in prison’ worthy.”

“Can we get a death sentence?”

Dean slowly gained a more guarded posture, “And why would you want that?” As Dean relaxed he seemed more personable, but with that one statement he looked suspicious of me and my motives. His eyes gained that hard look that could break steel and I was terrified to see him angry.

I curled in on myself, “Past experience.”

“I’m gonna need to know this kind of stuff sweetheart.”

“Look, we both know life in prison isn’t a guarantee. Nick was supposed to get a life sentence, but he got out. Now Crowley’s dead and Chuck is in power.” There was a pause where neither of us spoke. “There’s always something. You’re in law enforcement. You should know that.”

He sighed before nodding once again, “Fine, we’ll see what we can do and what we can get, okay?”

“Okay.”

“How are you going to get me in?”

I rubbed my temples. How was I going to get him in? “I think our best option is for me to just bring you in as a new recruit. No deals, tell him the least information possible. Whoever brings someone new in becomes their mentor so that’ll work out...” This was going to be hard. Chuck was a difficult target. “We’ll say you’re new in town. You desperately need some extra cash, so you’re willing to join. You don’t really care what you have to do. The trick is to lie the least amount as possible. Chuck doesn’t like liars, and he can always find out information. So I hope there aren’t many people who know you’re doing this.” I locked eyes with him.

“No, not many at all.”

“I hope you’re right, or we’re both dead.”

This conversation ran through my head as we stood in front of Chuck. It was the monthly meeting, where everything you could think of was discussed, including new members.

“So, there’s a new face.” Chuck was looking at the pair of us, a passive invitation.

I stepped forward with as much confidence as I could muster, “Yes, this is new recruit-”

“Officer Dean Winchester, yes I know.”

I nearly choked as my eyes widened in fear and surprise. I glanced at Dean and all I could think was, “We’re dead.”

“Now the question is, why does the new cop in town want to join the local mob?” Chuck stood from his chair and walked around, “Little short on cash, need a little excitement?”

Dean chuckled, but I could tell he was hiding his nervousness, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Good, what’s one more cop on the payroll? You’re in.” Chuck finally looked back at the two of us, and my heart was still pounding out of my chest despite how impossibly well this was going, “Oh, you didn’t know he was a cop did you? Looks like some couples therapy material.”

I swallowed, but couldn’t hide my confusion, couples therapy?

“Oh come on! It’s obvious!” Chuck hesitated, “Well maybe not obvious, but Y/n’s not the hook-up type.”

I blushed, this was getting out of hand, but as long as Chuck wasn’t going to kill me, I would put up with it the best I could.

Chuck clapped and rubbed his hands together, “Oh I love a good romance. So how did you guys meet?”

Dean seemed to snap into it, or maybe it was me who was out of it, I’m not sure, but Dean grabbed my hand and intertwined our fingers.

“I don’t know, sir, I’m not much of a story teller.”

“Come on Dean.” Chuck smiled, a little too eagerly.

I tightened my grip on Dean’s hand, mostly out of anxiousness. I was out of options and stocked up on fear. It was up to him to get us the hell out of here.

“Tell me a story.”

Best Buds Taglist: @kitkatd7 @snarky--starky @confetti-its-an-imagine-blog @kaogasm

Dean: @akshi8278 @msmarvelouswinchester

[weirdochick56]

Mr. Evans II- Chris Evans AU Chapter Eleven

Teacher!Chris Evans x Student!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language. SMUT. DIRTY DIRTINESS.

Disclaimers: I don’t condone relationships of this kind, this is for entertainment purposes only. Please be gentle on my word-porn.

Word Count: 5, 347 words

A/N: This shit got dirty REAL quick. As I was writing it, I was so fucking confused by what my fingers were typing lmfaoooo. Also this story is nearly coming to an end and IDK what the hell im gonna do after. PLEASE stay safe and healthy y’all! 

Read Chapter Ten here!!

***

(gif isn’t mine!)

You take a long gulp of the bottle.

“It’s like I’m stuck, you know?” You say looking off into the water. “Like I don’t know how to exist or move forward or hell, even back.”

Noah, the guy you’d met at the pool, nods in understanding, taking a sip from the bottle. “Yeah. I get that, but your situation is hella complicated. I get why.”

“I guess I just have never felt one hundred percent in it, you know? Like I could never fully let myself be happy because at any moment that shit could burn down. I’ve always felt like someone was out to get us, like all the fucking odds were stacked against us,” you mumble, shivering when a breeze swishes past the dark night.

It’s been a while since you had met Noah and he was a pretty cool dude. You just clicked- it was just like that with some people you know? You just get along from the get-go. You got to talking, slowly downing the bottle in the process of course and the more time ticked by, the more your tongues loosened.

You didn’t like to play into stereotypes or anything, but you were almost entirely sure Noah wasn’t one-hundred percent straight. But maybe that was just you.

You were at a healthy buzz right now but that wasn’t gonna last long at the rate you were chugging from the bottle.

“You wanna be with him?”

You sigh, hating that there wasn’t even a little doubt in your mind or heart at the question. “I do. But I don’t know how to go about it, you know? It’s all just so jumbled for me.”

Noah releases a little sigh, laying down on the cold gravel. “I know right? It’s like you love someone so much but you also know that being with them could be dangerous, no only to you but to the life you’ve built around yourselves individually. So it’s hard between choosing everyone else or your own selfish ass.”

You glance at him, raising your brows. “From personal experience?”

He laughs but it’s a bit strained- dry. “Yeah. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not exactly uh- straight.”

“What?! I had no idea!” You mock gasp.

“Shut up.” He laughs, slapping your arm playfully. “Yeah well, he’s actually the most beautiful human being I’ve ever met. But we’re keeping it on the dL. Neither of our parents is exactly supportive. Mine are still a bit touchy even though they’re starting to tolerate the fact that their son is gay and his- well they have no idea. If they did that situation would go awry real quick.”

You sigh, laying your head drunkenly on his shoulder. “Aw, I’m so sorry Nini.”

He laughs, casually wrapping an arm around you. “Oh? Is that my new nickname?”

You nod. “Yep.”

“You know something, Nini?” You suddenly mumble in a slur.

“What?”

“You’re not selfish for loving him- whoever he is. You’re brave.”

“Yeah? And why do you say that?” He hums.

You take the bottle from his grasp, taking a long drink. When you’re done, you sluggishly wipe your lips.

“Because I’m a fucking coward,” you mumble shakily. “I’m so fucking scared of feeling. I just shut down like a robot,” you confess, quietly chuckling. “I numb myself so that I don’t have to face the reality of it all. You face that shit head-on. You’re staying and fighting for your love. That’s super admirable.”

Noah rubs your arm comfortingly. “Thanks.”

You nod, swishing your feet in the water. “It’s true. I wish I could just be with him.”

“Then be with him,” Noah says, simply.

Just like that. As if it were that straightforward.

“It’s not that easy. There’s so many things to consider.“

“Let me ask you a question,” he quickly quips. “Do you love him? Like really truly love him?”

You swallow harshly, gripping the bottle tightly in your hands. “With every fiber in my body.”

Noah nods firmly. “Then that’s it. And listen, I’m going to be honest because it sounds like everyone in your life has been lying to you and telling you basically all you need is love to make it work. It’s not. Relationships are hard fucking work. Especially if it’s one people will have a variety of feelings on. It takes effort, time, sacrifice and you know where all that comes from?”

“Where?” You pout drunkenly.

“From you. You have to be sure you want it you have to be willing to stay and fight. But you also need love. Without love, there’s nothing. If you’re sure you want to be with him, if you think your love is worth it, then I say go for it. It doesn’t have to be this huge announcement either. It’s your relationship- it’s there for no one else but you two. If you feel comfortable later on, then do sure you can tell people.”

You ponder on his words drinking more tequila, before finally speaking in a defeated tone. “I’m scared.”

He shrugs. “Life is really just one big risk you either choose to take or not. Plus, it’s like I told you; relationships are hard work. You have to keep working at it. Even when it gets hard.” He licks his lips. “He gave an ultimatum and from what you told me, you’re not going to be here for much longer. So not to pressure you or anything, but if there was ever a time to act this feels like it’s it.”

Maybe he’s right.

*

Needless to say, by the time Noah walks you home, you’re both absolutely hammered. You make sure to call him a taxi because it was late at night and you also make him promise to text you once he got there.

After he’s gone words keep ringing around in your head over and over and over again. And so do Margo’s. In fact, you felt like you were flying on a cloud of thoughts all whirling and detaching and stringing together back again.

You start replaying everything in your head- your whole relationship. From the start to now. Like a movie.

And your heart breaks even more because you realize right there and then that at some point, the movie suddenly stops.

The movie stops.

It hits you that you’ll have no idea how it ends. What’ll happen with you two. Where you’ll end up.

For some odd fucking reason, it makes you feel sick to your stomach to think about it that way, and your skin crawls. If you let him go, you’ll never him know how the movie ends... the thought tortures you slowly to sleep as it goes round and round in your noggin, pounding you with unbearable guilt and anxious thoughts.

When you do fall asleep, though, you have a strange dream that night. Or more like you have a nightmare.

You’re standing in your room and it’s just like it was when you went to sleep that night, except that on the other side, the usual long hallway isn’t there anymore. There’s only darkness.

Your anxiety kicks up because you know what the darkness is without even touching it.

It’s the not-knowing. The pitch-black emptiness which you’re expected to walk into blind. Fucking alone.

You start hyperventilating when the pressure to walk into it becomes too much, thrashing harshly against the invisible force pushing you into it. Screaming, salty tears, kicking...

It’s all too much. Your breathing is labored and your skin burns with hot tears.

And then suddenly and like a warm blanket- two muscular arms wrap around you from behind, tugging you into a hard chest.

Chris, your mind instantly whispers.

He easily tugs you back towards the room, hugging you to his front tightly.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

And in that moment of terror, with his familiar scent and soothing voice and tight embrace, he’s safety. He’s warmth and familiarity.

...he’s home. Your home.

You just lay there with him, holding each other.

The next image flashes by instantly and suddenly the darkness is back. But this time you don’t panic...because Chris is right there with you, holding your hand. And for some reason, you know -you’re one-thousand present sure- he won’t let go.

He rubs his thumb softly over your thumb, looking at you with those alluring blue eyes of his, that soft yet capturing gaze that made you feel all fuzzy.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you. I’m here. I’ll always be here.” He repeats his earlier sentence.

You wipe happy tears. “I’ve got you too.”

He smiles adoringly down at you, smile lines crinkling endearingly at the corners. “I know.”

And without a second’s thought you plunge straight into the darkness.

You gasp loudly, sitting straight up in bed. Your heart races, thumping harshly against your rib cage as beads of sweat trod carefully down your temple and side of your face.

Click.

Something in you suddenly clicks and it all becomes clear. 

Was that all that was needed for realization to hit you? A single moment? A single split second in which the fog clears? A split-second where your vision suddenly elevates and the whole landscape is all there? The whole picture is laid out before you? 

It’s early in the morning and you wince when the bright light of an early day hits you in the face, flopping over in bed.

You reach for your phone on the nightstand, quickly unlocking it before checking your contacts. You have a new text message. You click on it.

Hey, Hermosa. I got home okay. Thanks for the taxi, lol.

You smile gently, typing back.

Yeah np, Nini. Thanks for the advice. Needed it.

Your phone buzzes.

Ngl, kinda shocked we still remember that. Lmfao. Ur welcome tho.

You groan softly into your pillow when your head starts aggressively throbbing.

Sobriety sucks butt.

*

“Honey, are you okay?”

Your dad and Kennedy watch you as you haphazardly stuff your face with bacon and eggs then gulf it all down like a dog- brows raised and jaws slack.

Downing your warm coffee in one go, you get up, pushing the chair back with a loud screech and almost trip running over to the sink to put your dishes inside.

“Yes. I’m good. There’s just something urgent I have to go take care of,” you rush out, leaning down over them and giving each a chaste kiss on the cheek.

“I love you guys!” You yell, already half outside and still pulling on one of your sneakers as you clumsily hopped around.

You slam the door shut, running off as soon as you finish putting on the shoe.

Your head pounds inside your skull even having downed three aspirins and having a warm shower and your breakfast swishes inside your stomach with your harsh sprinting but you don’t stop.

Not until you reach his house.

You don’t think. Just feel. Feel how right this was. You’re done being scared of loving who you love. You had what you had and it was what it was, but what you had was him.

Chris.

All this time, he said you were his light. You were his angel.

But really he was your light. He was your angel.

You needed him just as much as he needed you- if not more.

Fuck everyone else.

This was yours. He was yours and you were his and you were done fighting it. Officially.

You had the realization that before, you’d always been just the tiniest bit reluctant. You subconscious put up your own walls to protect your heart, never fully allowing yourself to work on your relationship, never fully giving your energy to it.

But not anymore. No more walls. Just you. Just you, your love and a foundation for a fresh start.

You were exhausted- not of life or him or of the curveballs it keeps throwing your way. You’re tired of fighting yourself.

That’s the real fight you’ve been having this whole time. With yourself. You’re your own damn enemy. And isn’t that fucking tiring?

But you’re done. 

Knocking loudly on the door, your chest inflated with so many emotions and with adrenaline pumping through your veins, you tug at your short shorts, hating that this was the first thing you saw and threw on.

Unfortunately, the next thing you saw was a short ass crop top so you were basically running around in your underwear.

You freeze out the nerves as soon as they start to set in when footsteps pad your way. None of that.

When Chris opens the door, you nearly fall over.

He gives you a once-over, his hair messy, and dark bags under his eyes. “Sweetheart what-“

You stare at him for a few seconds as does he, eyes wide and lips parted.

“Chris,” you breathe.

But you catch yourself and before you know it, you’re spilling all your damn beans right on his front porch.

You needed to. You had to get this off your chest or you would go absolutely insane.

“Chris before you say anything, I just want to apologize. I’ve been a huge fucking hypocrite. But I realize my mistakes and I-“ you laugh incredulously, looking at him. “I just want to be with you,” you mumble meekly, your voice low. 

Not because you didn’t mean it, but because you were terrified of his reaction. 

His eyes soften and he opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him off. 

“No, stop. I just need to finish what I have to say, okay? You were right. You scare me. What we have scares me. But I’m not willing to let you go just because I’m scared. I-” you swallow tears back down. “Being scared isn’t an excuse to let you go. God, I’ve never felt emptier in my life than these past few weeks. Not even when I was gone for two years. At least then I knew I was faraway from you. That I was somewhat safe from all these...feelings.” You gulp. “But being here-“ you shake your head. “Knowing that you’re just a few blocks away- I just want you to hold me, to make love to me, to love me in the way only you know how to.” You chuckle breathlessly. “God, I am so in love with you. Y-you complete me. You make me better- you’re the best fucking person I know. And I know I’ve been an asshole to you, or well let’s be honest we both have, but I guess mostly me- um anyway. I just- I’m here to stay.” You sigh softly, letting the words roll of your tongue like a vow. 

“I’m here to stay,” you repeat softly but firmer this time, swallowing thickly at the sweet after taste.

You’re panting by the time you’re done, both thanks to the running and the little speech you just gave, but your gaze never leaves his. Not for the whole five minutes, he just stands there, looking at you with glimmering eyes.

“Chris?” You whisper.

“Say that again,” he breathes.

“Say what?” You frown.

“Tell me you love me again,” he mumbles, a single tear sliding down his cheek.

You smile a little, looking him in the eye. “I love you. I love you. I love you,” you repeat breathlessly. “I’m here to stay- if you’ll let me that is,” you add on in a clumsy, sheepish way.

He smirks, instantly yanking you into a hug. His arm wraps around your waist and head and your arms slither their way around his broad back. You melt into him, half with delight and half with relief. 

The embrace says all the things you weren’t strong enough to say, it was passionate, warm, loving, fierce. You slid into eachother like to puzzle pieces. Like you were meant to be there- in eachother’s arms. 

Chris holds you tighter to him, using your trembling body, which you hadn’t even noticed was shaking, as an excuse you stuff his nose into your hair and press your chest to his.

“I missed you,” he breathed into you- easy as air. A breath he’d been holding for far too long and needed to release.

A breath that, once uttered, made you instantly freeze. 

You slowly parted away from him so you could properly peer into his eyes and because you have no idea how much being back with him was going to be for you emotionally. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumble, tears sprouting from your eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just scared. I’m always scared.” 

He shakes his head at you, pressing a light kiss to your forehead. “I get it, sweetheart. I was scared too. But we’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He holds his arms out again, but catches himself before wrapping them around you and pulling you to him entirely, the question clear in his eyes; was this okay?

This embrace wasn’t like the one a few moments ago, this one was cautious because you were walking new ground. A ground that was undiscovered but all the same exciting. 

A ground that was the foundation for a new path to happiness. A new beginning. 

You simply nod in response, too tired to try to fight your need for his warmth off.

He wastes no time pulling you to his chest- nice and tight and you instantly hug him back, loving the feeling of safety and warmth you felt there.

You realize that no matter where you go or who you’re with, nothing will ever feel like being in his arms. Nothing will ever feel like home. Not like him.

His hold tightens on you- like he’s afraid of letting you go and you tighten your own hold to signify your own heightened emotions. 

The buzzing in your skin, the racing of your heart, the flush of your face, the fluttering of your tummy- all the emotions that made you feel like there was endless hope and warmth and good in the world- you missed it all. 

You listen to his slightly accelerated heartbeat and nestle your head against his chest. “So we fight?”

He heaves a heavy exhale. “We fight.”

You lick your dry lips, taking a deep breath. “Okay.”

He pushes you back slightly, brows raised. “Really?”

You can’t help but smirk a little bit. “I think I still have a little bit more fight left in me.”

*

You shift in his arms, resting your head on his chest an adjusting the leg you’d hastily thrown over his waist.

After your talk, you’d agreed that a little alone time was in order. So you threw yourselves onto his bed and did what anyone in your position -with unspent sexual frustration and endless simmering desire between your souls- would do and cuddled.

“Sweetheart,” he begins, twirling another strand of your hair in between his fingers.

“Hmm?” you mumble drowsily, drawing a new pattern on his chest with your fingertips.

“Do you love me?”

You pause, brows furrowing. Leaning up on your elbow, you peer down at him. “What?”

He smiles a little. “You heard me.”

“Why do you ask?” You blush bright red.

He chuckles, brushing a hand against your cheek. “Well, I’m not like you, angel. I actually need to hear the words. Again,” he adds cheekily.

You stare at him blankly for a few seconds, contemplating his face. He was perfect. Even the small dips or indents on his skin. Every sharp and soft line, every curve and dip and area of soft flesh.

Beneath you, his muscles strained against his soft pajamas and his warmth surpassed layers of skin and clothing in order to deep into your bones, warming you entirely.

But that wasn’t what made him beautiful. No. 

It was the fact that he was such a dork when it came to Charlotte Brontë and Bram Stroker even when he tried to hide it. It was the fact that for years he put aside his own pain to focus on the futures of his students. The pain of losing his wife.

It was that he looked at you like you were his beginning and his end and everything in between. It was the fact that he was unwilling to relent to everyone and everything telling him he couldn’t have you and that he was willing to forgive you. 

It was that he was still here. Still fighting even when everything could be lost.

He wasn’t just perfect. He was authentic. And he was beautiful just the way he was.

You finally nod, whispering lightly. “I do. I love you more than anything in the world.”

You’ve never meant anything more in your life. And it didn’t matter what would happen next because you’d be together when it happen and you’d take it on together. You’d always have eachother.

He beams adoringly, running his hands through his hair.

You instantly raise a brow. “What?”

He frowns at you. “What?”

You chuckle, a tiny smirk tugging at your lips. “Something’s wrong. What is it?”

“Wrong? Nothing is wrong. Why does something have to be wrong?”

You instantly smile, patting his cheek as you hook your leg over him tighter in order to get more comfortable. “You just ran a hand through your hair; something’s definitely wrong,” you say as if it’s obvious before softening. “C’mon talk to me.”

He looks into your questioning eyes for exactly three seconds before breaking. “Dammit, why do your eyes have to be so big and…shiny? I can never lie to them,” he mumbles under his breath.  

You laugh pressing a little kiss to his stubbled cheek. “It’s my secret superpower. Now; spill.”

He sighs, looking down at his hands. “Nothing I guess I’m kind of second-guessing now. N-not of us o-or anything!” He rushes to explain immediately after. “Just-” he sighs again, looking back down. “I dunno. I feel like I’ve been pressuring you. What if this isn’t what you really want?” He gazes into your eyes, concern swimming in his deep pools. “Is it?”

Unable to hold back a snicker you grin lightly at him. “I just gave you an entire speech about how much I want to be with you and you’re questioning it? Bit late, don’t you think?” You joke lightly.

He deadpans. “Y/n.” 

You sigh. “Yes, it is what I want. No backing out this time.” You hold out your pinky with a tiny giggle. “Pinky promise?”

He raises a brow at the small finger, scoffing at the notion. “Angel, I’m a masculine manly-man do you really think that I’m gonna pinky promise you? No.”

You wiggle your pinky with a tiny pout. “C’mon!” 

 He sternly peers down at you (again for exactly three seconds) before breaking down once more, half-heartedly linking your pinky with his and grumbling for a second time about how your eyes were “unfairly adorable”.

You laugh tightening your finger on his, as you gaze into each other’s eyes tenderly. “I pinky promise to always be with you. No matter what.”

He smiles softly, repeating your words back to you with the tenderest look in his eye. “I pinky promise to always be with you. No matter what.”

When you take your pinkie back, he rolls his eyes, chuckling. “I can’t believe you made me do that. I hate you.”

Lightly shoving his shoulder, you place a soft peck on his cheek. “You know you love me. Plus, c’mon, I came looking for you here, I can’t leave without at least a pinky promise.” 

He smirks, wiggling his brows suggestively. “You do realize this means I won, right?”

“Won?” 

He nods enthusiastically. “Yeah. This time, you came for me. So I won.”

You snort. “Asshole.”

He chuckles as you suddenly grow serious.

“You know, I hate that you know me better than I know myself. I can never hide from you,” you whisper as he grips your face with his hand.

“You don’t have to,” he says sincerely, looking directly at you. His dark gaze pierced your soul and your breath hitches, forming a huge lump on your throat. “Not from me. Not ever.”

You shiver under his touch, leaning into him. You bite your lip as you gaze at him from under your lashes. “What if what I’m trying to hide is ugly?” You husk.

He simply smiles, like what you’re saying is utterly impossible. “Then you don’t try to hide it. I want to see it all. Because you know what? In the end, I know it’s all going to be beautiful.”

You can’t keep the damn goofy smile from tugging at your lips as you softly kiss his nose. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you breathe. “I love you so fucking much.”

He pecks your cheek lightly in response, resting his forehead on yours. 

“Who are we without scars, without stories to tell? Your flaws make you who you are, angel. And I’ve fallen in love with you. All of you.”

You smile softly at him, your heart thumping loudly inside your chest. “You make me all crazy, you know that?” you mumble.

He laughs, closing the distance between you two and brushing his lashes against yours. “I’m sorry.”

You giggle against his lips, softly moving yours against them as you peer into his darkened eyes and wide blown pupils. “No, you’re not.”

He rubs his thumb across your cheekbone tenderly, tracing your skin like he was afraid you’d break if he pressed too hard or rubbed too much.

“You’re right- I’m not,” he breathes hotly against your skin, playing with your lower lip.

You press your nose to his, pressure building in your chest as you slowly begin straddling him. “Do you want me?”

His other hands grips your other cheek, gaze pinning yours down with ease. “All the damn time,” he responds without hesitation, voice growing deeper and more primitive.

You smirk down at him, forgetting entirely about everything and everyone else.

“Really?”

He looks at you incredulously. “Are you serious? How do you not know what you do to me, sweetheart?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t. What do I do to you, Chris?”

Your pussy begins pulsating rhythmically, panties damp at the implication.

He inhales sharply, clamping down on that plump lip. “Shit sweetheart. You want details?”

He seemed startled but turned on all the same.

You bite your lip, feeling your nipples harden under the soft fabric of the shirt and nearly let a moan slip when it rubs against the sensitive nubs as you move.

“Yes. I want you to tell me exactly how much you want me. I want you to tell me how you’ve imagined me before. What you’d do to me if you’re given the chance,” you rasp all in one breath.

As you speak, you grind your down hips on his, enjoying the much-needed friction it created in your sensitive spot.

He clenches his jaw, eyes ablaze with that fire you missed so much.

“Careful sweetheart,” he grits out through clenched teeth, hands dropping to your ass and hips. “If you get too close I might burn you.”

You look him in the eye, knowing damn well your own unquenchable fire was swaying sensually back and forth in your eyes. You wanted him—bad. In fact, you fucking needed him. You needed him like you needed air to breathe. Fuck, you ached for the feeling of his cock inside you, claiming you as his. Because damn you were his.

“Then burn me,” you say with full intent.

His eyes snap shut, fingers digging into your flesh.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n. If we don’t stop right now I can’t promise I won’t fuck you ‘til you’re screaming.”

Your pussy instantly grows wet at his words, pulsating far more aggressively than before as you move your hips faster.

“Fuck Chris. Have you dreamed about me?” You pant.

He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, dick stirring in his pants. “Almost every night,” he admits without shame or hell- even embarrassment.

Than only makes you more flushed.

You lick your dry lips, his eyes following the movement. “Yeah? And what am I wearing?”

He closes his eyes, hands traveling down to your thighs before rising gradually up to your waist, pushing fabric out of the way. You tremble beneath his fingertips and he uses the chance to guide your movements against him, his long fingers setting a rhythm for you to move to.

He hisses with pleasure. “Y-you’re wearing my t-shirt. Only with panties underneath.”

You inhale deeply, chest rising but not falling just yet at the vivid image. “Mhm,” you hum softly. “And where are we?”

“My bedroom. You’re sprawled out on my bed, sleeping.”

You bite your lip. “Are you hard yet?”

“Hell yes,” he breathes, digging his nails into your ass. “I can see your ass from here. All of that for me,” he moans softly against your chest as he adjusts you and his grip on you so your tits are closer to his face.

You arch back at the sensation of having his hard cock rubbing against you from beneath his pants.

“You’re moving around in your sleep and I’m getting harder because you look so damn innocent but sexy all at once. Like you’re just asking me to ruin you.”

You moan against him, accidentally brushing your nipple against his lips in the frenzy of your dry humping.

You freeze for a second, letting the sensation sink into your cells, warming them with electrifying bliss before moaning louder when Chris lightly opens his mouth to take one of them in over the thin material of the shirt.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation and your finger rake through his hair, tugging on the strands harshly as he gently suckles on the sensitive bud, rolling his tongue around it with expert sensuality.

His eyes meet yours as he does this and neither of your looks away as he flicks his tongue back and forth, causing your whole body to nearly overload with bliss.

“Fuck Chris,” you mewl, digging out nails into his scalp.

He stops sucking, using his finger to play with them instead. Your mouth falls open in a choked-up scream as he continues narrating his dirty dream for you.

“Even from there I can see how soft your skin is. How perfect your tits are and how good they’d fit in my hands. It’s torture until I walk over to you and grab one of your ankles gently in my hands…”

“Yes?” Your breath hitches as he hits a sensitive spot.

“And the other one too. Then I slowly part them. I don’t want to wake you yet. Not like that.”

You bite your lip, holding back a moan.

“When I’ve completely opened your legs, I slowly crawl up your body, kissing your legs as I go. When I reach your inner thighs, I slowly lift my shirt up….” he trails off, his thumb softly grazing your sensitive nub.

Your head flies back at the sudden jolt of pleasure it sends up your spine. “Shit Chris,” you groan.

“I start leaving open-mouthed kisses all over your soft skin. You’re shifting in your sleep, growing wetter, but you still haven’t woken up. Finally, I kiss your pussy.”

At the words coming out of his sinfully soft mouth, you feel your stomach clench, mouth capturing a silent scream and swallowing it back down.

He keeps you moving against him, his fingers gripping your thigh and his thumb working soft circles into your now soaked panties.

You gyrate into his hand rhythmically, fully concentrated in how good he felt.

“Uh-huh,” you finally grit out.

He continues speaking, voice strained and tone nearly drowned out entirely by animalistic frenzy. “You slowly peel your eyes open as I’ve begun flicking my tongue over your clit back and forth.” He copies the motion he describes with his thumb, smirking viciously when you nearly fall over him.

“I’ve been doing it over your sheer lace underwear this whole time, but when you are finally awake, your smell and your taste become too much for me to handle. You intoxicate all my senses sweetheart. I just want you on my tongue. I want you to ride my face until you cum in my mouth.”

And that’s all he needs to add to his jerky thumb movements for you to cum. Hard.

As if he can sense that you’ve reached a climax, he watches you with hunger, drinking in the sight of you coming all for him. “That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me. All for me. Fuck, Y/n.”

You convulse, cursing like a damn sailor into his mouth. “Fuuuuck Chris!”

When you’re done, you slouch against him.

He hugs you to him and the rumble of his laughter travels through you, causing your sensitive insides to tremble. “You okay, sweetheart?”

You lift your head carefully. “Yes.”

He smiles. “Good. Y/n?”

“Yeah?”

“I want to make love to you.”

“Oh.”

Read Chapter Twelve here!!

***

The flashbacks to Mr. Evans I are real. Omfg. 

I’m literally in love with him.

A special thanks to:

@star-spangled-steve

@tomoyaevaans

@pepsicola-is-my-brand-man​

@whereeverythingisbetter​

@fallenoutofrose

@plutonium-m

@beepbeepromanoff

@faithmichaluk

@sincerelytlh

@tomshelbystits

@kind-sober-fullydressed

@emmarogers222

@sashimi-cat

@zofty15

@gemgemswift

@fafulous

@chljmntgy

@thatssograce

@leclerc-stan

@colddsalsa

@evansislife

@chris-butt

@captainchrisstan

@marvels-gurl

@davestridersrightnipple

@agirlcanstilldream

@notbexmader

@ib-ebe

@byrogers

@theangrylizard

@oh-hey-janina

@mannatgalhotra​

And My forevers!

@jessikared97​

@ladyofletters67​

@lilypalmer1987​

@sammykb1994​

@tomshelbystits​

[jinjjarang]

my twinkling star

summary: park jimin is part of a band on their college, and they’re famous because of it. one day, he bumped into a girl and i guess you can say that his life was changed forever. the good thing is, it was the same for her.

[friends to lovers!au, college!au]

chapter 1

pairing: park jimin x female reader

a/n: hello! i’m going back to work during this pandemic, so i thought of finishing this au as soon as possible. please do leave comments or feedback regarding this, i deeply appreciate it! i hope you enjoy reading this update. 

Chapter 2: How many stars are there?

Today was an awful day.

I messed up at work, and I think I’m getting fired soon. It was a part-time job to help me sustain my needs as a student. If I end up losing this one, I think I’ll just go back to tutoring. Aside from that, my professor in a major subject suddenly decides that instead of a group project, our final assessment should be done individually and to be submitted next week. That works for me because I’m having a hard time meeting with my teammates anyway, but that also meant that I have to stay up late at night to be able to finish it at the given time.

Tonight is the start of my sleepless nights in order for this project to be done, but I’m a little distracted by the crumpled paper with the phone number lying on my desk. I took it while contemplating on what I should do with it. It has already been two days since that incident. Should I text him? What am I gonna tell him? Hi, I was the one you bumped on the street two days ago. How you doin’?

I sighed. 

If there’s one thing I’m sure of in this world, it was that he’s the most beautiful person and not even Brad Pitt can relate.

I typed in his number on my contact list, and opened a new message. I blankly looked at the blinking cursor on the ‘Type a message’ section, thinking of something witty to send but I must have been too tired as I slept the night away and woke up with my phone clutched within my hands. 

I have no time for boy problems at this moment in my life anyways.

*

The days went by so fast. I was able to finish the assessment on my major subject, and the first semester is finally going to an end.

I was texting my tutee while on my way home (yes folks, i got fired) when I suddenly bumped into someone. I looked up to say sorry, but the person who I bumped into was the one who gave me the number of the beautiful human being a week ago. Yoongi, was it?

“Yo, why didn’t you text him?” he said, while clutching the strap of his guitar bag. 

“Hyung!” shouted a man coming our way. He has silver hair, and he’s wearing a plain black shirt on a black skinny jeans.

That moment, the world went into a halt.

Every motion stopped except the person now slowly running into our direction. I could hear the angels singing in the background, and I could see how the sunlight is touching the features of his face softly.

He looks mesmerizing.

I looked at him in awe. “Right, Jimin ah. Did you pass your final assessment?”

“Yup! Hoseok hyung helped me at the last minute. Do we have practice today?” the guy responded. He smiled widely, and though he looks like a baby he also looked like an angel who was brought down into the world to make it a better place.

“Yeah, we do...” I noticed that Yoongi looked at me sideways, but I couldn’t really help staring at the silver-haired angel in front of me. Is he even real? Or am I making these up? “Hey so, you didn’t answer my question.”

I blinked hard and looked back at Yoongi, dumbfounded. “Uh… Huh?”

“Oh, who’s this? Your friend?” the Jimin guy said. He’s still wearing the most beautiful smile.

“No/NO!” We both answered and he laughed loudly. God, that was the most endearing laugh I’ve ever heard in my whole life. Laugh again, please.

“Okay, chill. You do look familiar though...” he stared at me while smiling still. Mama, God wants me to go with this angel and I will comply. Does he ever stop smiling?

“That’s cause I was the one you stole from.” I blurted out. I don’t know where I got the courage to say something like that because I’m actually an introverted person, but God lend this weak bitch the strength to move forward.

He frowned. “I’m not a thief..? I didn’t steal anything from anybody.”

“You did, so we’re going to the police and sue you right now.” Okay God, this might be too much of a strength here.

“Wait wait, hold on! What are you talking about?” He looks utterly confused now, but he still looks like an angel.  

Yoongi laughed beside me, which was really surprising to be honest and Jimin looked like he was surprised too. “Hyung! You’re LAUGHING? What’s so FUNNY about this? I didn’t steal anything at all!” he pouted and wow, his cheeks are so fluffy I wanna squish.

“Oh, you did Jimin ah. That’s harsh of you to forget, you know. Considering that it’s a really big crime. Think again.” he turned around, and continued, “By the way, I’ll go ahead now. Will wait for you at the practice room, or if you can’t go, that’s fine as well. Just text me.”

“Wait, hyung!” he turned to look at me and thought again. “Okay, for real, what did I steal?”

There was a moment of silence. He looked nervous as if doubting himself for a second, and I just had the urge to hug him and tell him that it’s alright but I also want to tell him off for stealing my heart. But I have no right, in reality?? 

“My heart.” This courage--I thank whoever has bestowed this upon me.

“What?”

“You stole my heart when you bumped into me weeks ago. I told you I’d sue you for not taking any responsibility for it.”

He stared at me, straight into my eyes as if waiting for me to tell him it’s a joke. “You want to sue ME because I stole your HEART?”

“Uh, yes. It happened almost a week ago, I guess. We bumped into each other on the street, and I shouted at you when you ran away.”

He looked bemused, then he laughed. “I remember now!” Then, he looked serious. Okay, wait a minute. I cannot handle the roller-coaster of his emotions. I am: overwhelmed.

“Will you let me off if I let you come with me right now until the end of the night?”

“WHAT?” What does he mean until the end of the night??

“No, like, have dinner afterwards or something. What came into your mind?” he smiled--a deadly one. He’s aware of his powers, and it’s scary.

“Nothing.” I looked away.

“You sure? Because to me, it looked like you suddenly thought of something embarrassing.”

“No, there wasn’t.” 

“So, is that a yes? Because this practice is really important to me, I don’t wanna miss it.”

I nodded without looking at him, and when I caught a glimpse I saw him smile a little. Is it okay to admit that I have fallen in love already? This soon??

We walked silently until we reached the Arts Building and the people we passed along the way each greeted Jimin with a smile. It’s not a surprise that he’s famous because he’s literally an angel. “Are you a student here?”

“Yeah, why?”

Nothing, I just thought of why I haven’t known or ran into you before when you’re this popular on campus. I felt like my whole life was a waste.

But the thought died in my mind as I chose to not answer his question. “Freshman?” I asked instead.

He smirked at me before answering, “Nope. Do I look that young?”

I suddenly got shy and felt my cheeks burn. I was about to counter his question when he stopped in front of the room labelled as ‘Practice Room 3′ and he turned to look at me nervously. “Okay, so we’re here. You’ll meet Yoongi again, and I have a couple of friends who stay here and I don’t want it to be awkward so just be calm. No need to freak out, alright?”

I chuckled because he looked like he was the one who's already freaking out. “Hey, don’t worry. I won’t mind at all. Besides, I’m the one intruding.”

He smiled warmly. “You say that now, but they can get overwhelming…”

When he opened the door, I saw different kinds of instruments and there was a big couch on the right side of the room where four people were sitting, each one focused on their phones. I saw Yoongi looking up from his phone and he was surprised when he saw me then he looked at Jimin who was scratching the back of his neck, and then he looked at me again and back at Jimin.

“Sorry if I’m late. Should we start?”

They all focused on him now, and then stared at me with surprised looks on their faces. It did get me more embarrassed so I decided to just look at the set-up of the instruments in the room. “Wait, you’re part of a band? Like, a real band?” I asked as I looked at Jimin.

“Uh, yeah. You didn’t know?”

“No. I didn’t even know you study here, too.”

“Wait, so you’re serious that you only met me when you bumped into me a week ago? And wanted to sue me right that moment?”

“Yep. What, you thought I already knew you before then?”

“Uh huh. I thought maybe,” he looked away “you know, that was your way of, I don’t know, like getting close to me?”

I scrunched my brows at him. “What, you’re so full of yourself. I would never go that far.”

“Oh, so suing me for something I didn’t intentionally do is not going that far??”

He has a point.

“Well, how do I know that wasn’t inten--” I was interrupted when we heard a sputtering burst of laughter from the other guys in the room. We both looked at them, flustered.

A guy with plump lips and I believe to be a descendant of Aphrodite said, “Ya Jimin-ah, is this the girl Yoongi was talking about? I didn’t believe it was true.”

The one with big doe eyes and who looked like a cute little bunny when he smiles nodded. “Hyung, you’re looking very shy right now.”

Then, a blond guy with dimples so deep stated, “I didn’t think you’d bring her here. This is unexpected, truly.”

“I second that. I thought you’d leave her alone or talk it out somewhere.” Yoongi said.

Jimin looked at his friends and pointed at Yoongi. “You’re the reason she’s here! You intentionally bumped into her a while ago.”

It was my turn to ask. “You did?”

Yoongi avoided my gaze, and stood up going straight to the piano. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, kid. We should start practice.”

The others started standing up from the couch. Jimin went to the mic and held the bass guitar, the blond guy with the dimples went on the other side of the room where there was a laptop and a lot of wires and other equipment, the bunny guy went to the drums, and the descendant of Aphrodite went straight to me. He extended his hand and introduced himself. 

“Hello, it’s nice to finally meet you. My name’s Kim Seokjin, but you may know that already.”

Kim Seokjin. Kim Seokjin. Kim. Seokjin. Doesn’t ring any bell at all. Is he part of the university council?

I shook his hand and smiled. “Hi, I’m Y/N. I’m sorry, but I really haven’t heard of you before.”

He looked surprised and laughed again while slapping his thighs. “Okay, that’s really cute. So you already know Yoongi, I guess?” I nodded. “Then, let me introduce you to Jungkook, the one playing the drums and there’s Namjoon who’s in charge of recording and other technical stuff. Anyway, you can go ahead and sit on the couch while--wait, I’m assuming you’re waiting for Jimin?”

“Uh…” I looked at Jimin and he was looking at us. He mouthed a ‘What?’ directed to me. “Should I be waiting for you?”

He looked flustered and avoided my gaze, then he nodded. I looked back at the descendant of Aphrodite, and smiled at him. “Sorry for intruding.”

He was suppressing a laugh and he nodded twice before telling me to sit comfortably on the couch as they will take some time with practice. I said I don’t mind and went to the couch. I looked at Jimin and his friends. How can good-looking humans be allowed to be friends? This is so unfair but I also want to thank God because I was alive to witness it.

While they were tuning their instruments, I decided it would be a good use of my time to do some of my unfinished requirements. I started to clean up on their table as it was full of plastic cups, and instant ramen bowls, when the door suddenly opened and a tall sophisticated man came in. He was wearing glasses, and he looks like the second descendant of Aphrodite. He looked at me and blinked thrice before he went to Seokjin and whispered something. They mumbled to each other for a while, and I continued what I was doing. When I was done, I sat up quietly and started to work on my paper.

To be honest, I was never able to do any of my work. When I was about to start, they started playing a song. Jimin looks like the main vocalist of the band with Seokjin the second with the acoustic guitar with him. The song was Pop Rock, and it was very pleasant to the ears. If Jimin already looks like an angel, how can I describe how he sounds like when he sings?

Is it justifiable to say that his voice sounds so serene to that point that it feels like you’re going to heaven despite all the bad things that you’ve done your whole life just because you’ve listened to him sing?

Throughout their whole practice, I found myself speechless and completely stunned. They work so well together. It felt like they’re already recording an album of their own, or like they’re already performing in a stadium, and their voices sounded so perfect. There was no flaw; truly astounding.

Guy in the glasses who was sitting beside me suddenly spoke up, “Are you with Jimin?”

“U-uh, yeah.” I don’t know why I stuttered, but listening and watching the band feels like I was in a completely different world and the question just brought me back to Earth.

He smiled and I noticed that it was one of those boxy smiles that actually looks like a grin, but this one’s a natural. “Ah, so you’re that girl! Nice to meet you, by the way. I’m Kim Taehyung. I’m Jin hyung’s boyfriend. You can just call me Tae. I’m from the Arts department, and my major is photography. How about you?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N. My major’s Comparative Literature so you may see me spending most of my time at the library writing or reading stuff. It’s very nice to meet you too.” I said as I started to pack my things little by little while I maintained a decent conversation with him.

“Hey, that’s nice! What’s your favorite book?”

“I have a lot. Please don’t make me choose, I can’t do it.” We both laughed.

“Well then, recommend me some books that you like, and I’ll give it a read. Can I have your number? We should keep in touch for that book recommendation.”

By the time I gave him my number, the band had already stopped playing the second song. They went for a break, and sat on the sofa while discussing some ‘band stuff’ that I couldn’t relate to so Tae kept me company. 

Taehyung and I were able to talk about a lot of random things and I found it very comforting. He has a way with his words that makes you feel like whatever you tell him is okay, and he’s ready to listen to all of it. I don’t usually like talking with others that much because I can’t keep a conversation going, but I really was able to open up to him more than with anyone else before.

The group went back to practice one last song, and Tae looked at the band softly as if it was a very fragile thing; as if looking at them could break them. He was smiling dearly and he whispered, “I just want to let you know that Jimin doesn’t usually interact with anyone else aside from us, so I’m really happy that he brought someone with him. These people… they’re very important to me. They’re my whole family.”

“It’s nice, having a family...” I wanted to ask him more about Jimin but it seems like I’d be invading a more intimate topic and I’ve only known them as of today. I’ve already been intruding too much.

“It really is.”

“Oh, that reminds me. I’m sorry if this is out of the blue, but I’m really curious. How did you guys know about me?”

He looked at me, contemplating on what to say. “Actually, we didn’t hear about you from Jimin. Yoongi hyung was the one who told us. He said something about an interesting girl who likes Jimin, and that’s that. Said you guys only bumped into each other, but he gave you Jimin’s number. Hyung always had a great eye for people; it’s as if he sees something that we don’t.” 

I stared at him. I don’t know what to do with that information. 

“It’s just that when they both came late that night, Yoongi hyung kept reminding Jimin to check his phone from time to time as he may receive a text. So all of us kind of waited for the text and since nothing came up, we accused him of lying. We must’ve been creepy because we all knew about you. Sorry.” he smiled apologetically.

I was quick to dismiss it because I felt embarrassed. “No, it’s okay. I’m actually very embarrassed because I know I’m intruding, and we didn’t really meet normally, you know. I don’t know what you’ve heard from Yoongi about how we met. Also, this is only the second time and we haven’t introduced ourselves formally--”

“Wait. You still haven’t introduced yourselves to each other? You and Jimin?” 

I smiled shyly at Tae and looked at Jimin. “Yeah. I only know his name is Jimin because that’s how Yoongi called him a while ago. Also, I’m not sure as to why he brought me here or something, I’m just going with the flow? I’m really sorry.”

It was his turn to laugh. “Oh my, you guys are so funny! I have absolutely no words.” The band started wrapping up by this time, and I suddenly want to run away when it all sank in how unusual and totally embarrassing I am. 

As soon as I saw Jimin walking to me, I immediately want to disappear. He smiled at me and asked me if we should already go. I feel hot all over, it’s as if I’m going to have a fever. I don’t have the courage to look at him anymore, the one that was lent to me has already expired. I just want to be swallowed whole by the ground. 

“Hey?” he tried to look into my eyes, and I looked at Taehyung asking for help through telepathy and he just laughed at me.

“It’s okay, you guys can go. We have already finished talking, anyway.” He said while flailing his hands dismissively, and left us both on the couch. Noooo!

“Are you okay?” Jimin asked, worry evident in his eyes.

I tried to look at him, and failed. “Uh, sure. I mean, yes. Let’s go. Oh. Where are we going?”

He smiled at me. “How about we talk at the park behind the building first?”

“Okay, sounds good.” No, it doesn’t sound good. I did not think this through. I’m not ready for this.

Jimin waved goodbye to the group, and I smiled at them before leaving. We walked silently towards the park, and the people greeted Jimin the same way they did when we got here.

He’s glowing. Wherever he goes, it’s like the light follows him.

We arrived at the park he was talking about, and we sat side by side on a bench waiting for someone to start a conversation. We both were looking at the students passing by the park and kept silent for a while until I started to have the courage to talk to him.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make things awkward for you and your friends. Also, I must’ve creeped you out with how we met or the things I was saying. But it was true, you know. I mean, just some of it. I won’t sue you, I promise.” I blurted out.

He laughed at look at me intently. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m not mad or anything. But shouldn’t we get introduced with each other first?”

“Right. I’m Y/N and I major in Comparative Literature. I’m graduating next semester.” I extended my hand to him for a handshake and he took it immediately while smiling. 

“I’m Jimin. I major in dance. I’m also hoping to graduate next semester.”

We talked for a while about our major and how he bumped into me that night due to the gig that they were catching up to. Jimin was a kind person, his smile never faded the whole time we were talking and I found out that it was very easy to make him laugh. He shared a lot of stories about their gigs and their adventures as friends. It was normal and simple talk about his life and some of mine. He kept the conversation going, and he never ran out of things to say.

It was already dark, and the lamp posts started to lit up. Jimin was still talking about his professor who keeps forgetting stuff, and I’m just staring at him. His eyes turn a crescent shape when he smiles, and he looks genuinely happy. The kind of happy when you give a child a lollipop or candy. 

He was like a twinkling star when he talks. He lights up the darkness surrounding us. Looking at him on this moment makes me think how many stars are there in the universe. It also makes me think if anyone can shine bright than the one star in front of me--I bet not.

[bambyeol]

This Band (p.7)

B.A.M SEQUEL now updating daily!

pairing/s: band! park jihoon x oc ; band! bae jinyoung x oc ; doctor! hwang minhyun x oc

character/s: park jihoon, park woojin, bae jinyoung, ong seongwoo, kim jaehwan, ha sungwoon, lai guanlin, kang daniel, yoon jisung, hwang minhyun

genre: angst, fluff, music (band)

summary: never date your band mate.

warning : a sequel so I’d appreciate it if you’ll read B.A.M first. though you can always live dangerously and read this immediately.

This Band (p.1) This Band (p.2) This Band (p.3) This Band (p.4)  This Band (p.5) This Band (p.6)  This Band (p.9)  This Band (p.10)  This Band (p.11)   This Band (p.12)  This Band (p.13) This Band (p.14)  This Band (p15) This Band (final)

B.A.M p1 // B.A.M p2 // B.A.M p3 // B.A.M final

wanna one masterlist

song inspiration: Don’t Want To Be An Idol by VIXX 

Because I’m an idol, because I’m a celebrity 

I can’t hold your hand when we walk ...

--

She switched on the television in the lounge room,  continuously coursing through the channels with little interest, a blank expression on her face as the sound from the television droned out.

She felt numb from the hospital gossip and the anonymous messages; the curious glances from the staff, and the not-so-subtle interrogation just to prove that it was a far-fetched idea that she dated Park Jihoon.

On the other side of the screen, Jihoon sat along with his co-stars finding it more and more unbearable to continue with the press-con.

The atmosphere in the said press-con reeked of tension. Everyone was waiting, second guessing on dropping the question, but no one took the chance. No one dared to ask. Instead, they threw watered down questions, the usual “Can you say something about the drama?” or “How was working with actor X”

When the host deemed that the reporters had asked enough, and formally closed the discussion, Jihoon decided to finally take the leap. He was busily observing throughout the press-con, segregating the veteran reporters from the neophytes.

He knew from his experiences that the new ones always had the guts to ask the unwanted questions.

“Really? Is that all? I think Miss Kim in the back wanted to ask one more question.” He smiled innocently as he pointed to the young woman with the name tag Kim who dressed a little too fashionably for that boring press-con.

“Ahh, uhm” she stuttered, flipping fastly on her notes and shuffled through the set questions until she finally found the unasked question. Miss Kim looked around only to find everyone’s eyes on her, a nonverbal cue to pressure her into asking.

“Can you give us a statement regarding the controversy about you and your former bandmate, Miss Bae Riseul?”

Everyone held their breaths in suspense. Jihoon grabbed the mic. “Sure.”

Immediately, all the reporters who initially feigned disinterest regarding the issue held onto their pens, opened the voice recorders and started scribbling for notes. The cameraman immediately zoomed to Jihoon.

“To put it simply, during our days as members of B.A.M, Rise-- Ms. Bae and I did have a relationship with each other,” Jihoon started and everyone nodded along.

“We dated for two years before we broke up. After the break up, we quit the band although it was Ms. Bae who quit first to pursue her studies. I quit 2 months later and pursued becoming an idol. During those years, we didn’t establish any contact with each other. In the recent B.A.M concert, it was pure coincidence we ran across each other. The hospital visitations weren’t meant for her at all. Earlier this year, I was involved in a car accident. I was advised to undergo therapy for my knees.” He explained calmly and perfectly just as how he had it in his mind.

“What we are now are nothing but friends. It may be hard to believe, but we have both grown as individuals and clearly understand the extent of our relationship.”

“But, what about --” another reporter chimed in, but before he could even deliver his question,

“The only reason I took this chance to explain everything about us is because everyone has gone overboard regarding the issue. The other party became harassed over misleading news up to the point where her own safety has been compromised that may have even caused serious injury or death.” His eyes spoke of uncontained anger.   

“Ms. Bae may have been my ex-girlfriend, but regardless of who she was once in my life, it’s unacceptable to threaten someone and even hurt someone. I would like to remind everyone that the law is there to punish you, and I am more than willing to assist in tracking whoever tried to harass Ms. Bae in any form. And to the reporters, I hope that you’re aware that publishing false news could call for legal actions against you. That’s all.” Jihoon rested the microphone on the table and bowed before leaving the hall to prevent the media from swarming him with questions.

He didn’t know if his statement would do more harm than good, but he wished that his boldness and honesty would at least charm a few.  Everything blew to his favor though when netizens and articles suddenly painted their relationship in a positive light, and Jihoon’s actions as chivalrous and admirable. Although some remained to criticize Riseul, he was comforted that everyone was starting to turn over.

Soon, everything would be over. ---

He stood by the hallway trying to blend in with the numerous patients queuing for their check-up. He saw her from afar, standing out amidst the pool of plain white and greys in that hospital. He would have been able to find her anywhere because his eyes always followed her every step. And he couldn't help but find a small smile on his face upon seeing that the woman he loves so much conquered her fears and achieved her dreams.

She neared him while walking along some of her fellow doctors and he waved. Riseul to his direction, confusion on her face. The last time they met, she lashed out at him with how he managed to turn her life upside down again. It was puzzling how he was back so soon.

"Jihoon-ssi, are you here for your therapy?" Jihoon felt the forced civilness in her voice and a smile reserved for acquaintances. They were just a meter apart but he still managed to feel that he was just a stranger to her life now.

“I came to say goodbye since I’ve completed the sessions for the therapy,”  he answered. No surprise landed on her face.  

“Are you okay? Are you still receiving emails or did any one try to hurt you?”

“It’s all good now. Thank you, Jihoon-ssi” she hugged the clipboard she carried.

“You don’t need to thank me. I dragged you into that mess, and I really don’t want to let you go through that again so I won’t bother you anymore. I know that you’ll be uncomfortable if we practice for the Reunion together so I’ll just reject it. I won’t perform. So please, attend the reunion of B.A.M and sing again,” he bowed.

"Don't bow to me. It's making me uncomfortable." Riseul replied as she gazed at Jihoon's figure. He retracted and she tried to meet his eyes before breaking it off. Jihoon still had that same gaze, resolute and unfazed.  She tugged the end of her sleeves, her fingers fidgeting... a habit coming from her nervousness.

"It was nice meeting you again...Riseul-ssi." and he walked past her as he headed towards the exit of the hospital. Five years he wondered how she was, but now he's relieved, so it should be okay even if the tears threatened to fall.

She was his first love and looking back to their past, he wanted her to be the last as well.

His phone vibrated as he exited the facility.

One text message received.

I’ll see you in B.A.M practice. Don’t be late.

-Bae Riseul

He raised his eyebrows before breaking into laughter. It seemed like she wasn't planning to let her hold on him wear off anytime soon.

--

notes: I am back from the dead known as tumblr lag. 

finished a jaehwan fic and will post it after completing this

currently working on BAM side stories concerning other characters and who they’ll end up with ;) 

[cornyshitgoesinhere]

Rant Vol : 2

You know what really pisses me off? Inconsistency. I hate a person who's MOTHERFUCKING INCONSISTENT. Like if you can't do what's being asked of you to do, why jump the gun and offer yourself to do it?

Like you could always say NO. I never understood why certain individuals are scared to say no. I say no to my mother, father, sisters, brothers WHOEVER. Hell I'll even say no to Jesus if I could, but that's because I'm woman and straightforward about my shit. Nowadays, people like to waste your time and these fucking wastemons don't understand how valuable someone's time really is.

Now say for example my Budman (let's call him Dick). Now Dick has a habit of not hitting you up for weeks on end or when he feels like selling you weed. So lately I've been calling all my backup drug dealers (just in case Dick was being a real dick and not answering his messages), but I haven't reached anyone so I contact Dick. Now I'm a very understanding person. Knowing that Dick has more jobs than the FCC, I cut him some slack. BUT ENOUGH WAS ENOUGH AND I HAD IT. So I texted Dick like "yooooo can I get a dime of loud?" ( the term "a dime of loud" means 10 dollars worth of weed). He never responded until earlier today and goes "yo, you still need?" So I turned my PETTY MODE off and told him "yes but I have to be somewhere at 2:15, so can you be on time?" Of course dickhead agrees. So please readers, tell me why Dick doesn't write me until 3hrs and 20 mins later to say "I assumed you were at work" *silence for 5 sec* NIGGA ARE YOU SERIOUS?!

Now Dick had 2 very reasonable options here. It was either 01- He could've responded last night or 2- He could've said he couldn't make it. Instead, what Dick decides to do is first not contact me until he was ready to do so on his OWN TIME. As a Budman I understand that you have a life OUTSIDE of just selling weed. But if your gonna take on the job of becoming a drug dealer, you must understand the importance of CONSISTENCY and COMMUNICATION.

When you've become an inconsistent factor in someone's life, you become irrelevant. Irrelevant to the point that no one invites you anywhere. Yeah sure they your friends or whatever you wanna call it. But when you show signs of inconsistency, others will show signs of distance.

So please don't be inconsistent. And don't be a Dick either. ✨

[straight-outta-the-asylum]

Fix (Dean Ambrose x Reader)

I’m not dead! I actually got this, even though it took balls long to post, so thank you to @drarry--love for the request and sorry about the wait! I had like, twenty meltdowns about this. *shrug* Anychu, this one is based off a list I recently posted. Numbers used are 2, 26, and 70 from here. Sorta angsty, but the end has fluff bc I’m like that. I hope you enjoy!

The clock shone brightly in your eyes and you instantly regretted opening them, both because of the time and the brightness. You were starting to regret waking up in general. Upon rolling over you came to face the problem that had woken you up; namely, that there was no presence to be accounted for. The area was only a bit warm, and there was close to no dent in the mattress. Even though most of you was resistant to moving from the bed, you got yourself up from sheer willpower and the knowledge that there would be no sleep on either part if this kept up.

The night's, or rather, early morning's breeze made you shiver, even in a sweater and sweatpants as you made it onto the balcony. Dean was standing there, as you predicted.  He leaned on his elbows over the rail, not enough to fall, but enough to make someone a little concerned; although it seemed like he was looking at the quieting city, with its skyscrapers and loud noises and dimming lights, he looked a million miles away. You tried your best to get him out of his trance, shuffling over quietly and gently placing your hand on his shoulder. This was becoming somewhat of a regular occurrence, but he still flinched as you made contact with him. "How long have you been standing there?" You murmured, still half-asleep. "Longer than you'd like." He mumbled back, not meeting your gaze. "C'mon, let's go back in." You could tell he was already shivering a bit and his cheeks were turning a bit pink. "They said it's gonna snow pretty hard later and you already feel like an ice cream cone. I don't want to be taking care of your ass when you get a cold." He shrugged off your shoulder all of a sudden and shook his head. It hit you when he finally turned to look at you that you had unknowingly struck a chord with him. His eyes when they met yours were hard, but almost like they were holding something back. "Does that inconvenience you?" "Excuse me?" "Well, the way you said it, you didn't seem like you cared much." "You know that's not what I meant, Dean. "No, I'm pretty sure that's what you meant. It's alright, I know I'm a burden." "I'm too tired for this, and you're ridiculous." You could feel the sleep ebb away as it was replaced by a light fizzle of anger. "Freeze like a popsicle, then, I don't care. I'm going back to my bed." "/My/ bed? Not /our/ bed anymore, huh?" Dean called out and you felt yourself turning back to face him, as much as you tried to fight against it. The fucker was looking for a fight and you were shutting it down. "No, actually. You made it pretty clear it wasn't /our/ bed from when this started. And now you can consider it finished, and you can grab your stuff and sleep in someone else's bed." You barely looked at him or waited for his reaction before turning on heel and sliding the door shut behind you. Flopping into bed and curling up in a blanket cocoon, you squeezed your eyes shut and willed yourself to sleep as the snow started to fall, gentle flakes floating down. ---- You didn't really see him until a few days later at the next Smackdown. It had been a bit of a struggle, trying to get used to it. Waking up in the morning without having to prod Dean awake; stumbling to the bathroom without tripping over his suitcase and its guts spewed everywhere; gently hip checking him as you brushed your teeth; all of it was weird. The somewhat gentle feel of domesticity had left, but what killed you was that there shouldn't have been any in the first place. Maybe that was what started this whole thing. Eventually, the distance started driving you mad, but you didn't want to approach him about it until the event was quite literally shoved onto you. You were on your way to find Nikki for your tag team match later on in the night to plan when you ran into the one person you were trying to avoid. Literally ran into him; his back was to you in a discussion with Jason and you were too distracted to notice until his broad back connected with your body. He turned to look at whoever it was, and his original partially annoyed expression was replaced by a blank stare. You copied it, ignoring the lump in your throat. "Hey there." You didn't know what else to say. "Might wanna watch where you're going. You could hurt yourself." "Believe me, I've been through worse." "Never said you didn't." A few people bumped into you, rolling an equipment box and you moved out of the way quickly to let them pass. Jordan had disappeared soon after the conversation started. You wanted it to end, but something was stopping you from that. Maybe it was Dean; he had always looked like he had crawled out of a dumpster fire, but something was different now. His hair was a little more messed up, his eyes a little more vacant. The silence stretched out before you spoke up again, trying to beat away the cold you were feeling. "I didn't think you'd actually leave." "Well, you were asleep when I came back in, so I didn't think you'd want me to wake you up." You chewed on your bottom lip for a second before continuing. "Could've left a note. Or, you know, a text, anything, really, to keep in touch." "I thought we evolved from leaving notes in the morning. Seems to be a bit cliché. Besides, you know I have no idea how phones and all that work." He gave a bit of a smile that you couldn't help mirroring, as much as you tried not to. "What was up with you that night?" "What do you mean?" The smile was gone and his eyes darted down, staring at the floor like it was the most interesting thing in the world. "You know what I mean. Leaving the room to isolate yourself on the balcony, or picking fights with me." "I wasn't picking a fight." "Were you sick of the deal?" You pressed a little more. "What is this, twenty questions or something?" He answered quickly, too quickly, and you took a sharp intake of breath. The deal. That was what started this whole damn batch of trouble. A few months ago, you and Dean had gotten into a bit of a situation that ended up with both of you half-naked on his bed, making out with reckless abandon. This happened a few times, usually after high-intensity matches or late nights out. It took a little bit before both of you realized this wasn't going to work out, with sleeping together every other night and acting like nothing had happened in the morning. Dean had explained he wasn't ready for a relationship, and you had agreed. It was all well and good in the bedroom, but to bring anything out into real life could be considered a problem, for reasons you never knew. It had bled out, though, and you could feel it; this was the aftermath; feelings had gotten involved. It had gotten harder and harder to pull yourself away from him in the morning, or to spend more and more nights with him. "You wanted it." "You wanted it as much as I did. And you're the one who ended it." "It didn't have to end if you hadn't shut yourself off." "But I didn't, Y/N." You didn't know when your voices had started rising. "So did you want it done with?" "Why does this matter so much? We were never a couple, Y/N, we never had anything. We don't have anything. So drop it, alright?" "Not until you give me an answer!" Dean's jaw clenched, and his mouth moved a bit, almost like he was talking to himself. Normally you would back off, but now was not that time. "You really wanna know, huh?" The slight drop in his tone shocked you, but you nodded your head. "You started this thing. For months I've pent up this shit because of it. I wasn't ready for a relationship, and you were eventually gonna go on to bigger and better things. So I thought "no strings attached" would work and when we walked away you'd be good and I'd feel fine. But I don't, and it fucking sucks because I think I'm in love with you, and that scares me to death." It felt like the wind was knocked out of you as he finally looked over at you, spilling out his words. The shag in front of his eyes did nothing; you could still feel the emotion pouring off in waves and it struck you that you might be the same. "It shouldn't scare you, Dean. Love is..." You didn't know how to finish the sentence. "But it does. The shit I've done, what I've been through, I'm a mess even now when I should be a fucking adult. You get that? 'Cause if it didn't scare you before, it should now. I'm just a really, fucked up, broken individual." "Then let me fix you." Your hand rested on his shoulder, like it had before on that balcony, but now he didn't shrug it off. "You think I'm squeaky clean? That I haven't been hurt? I'm not perfect, Dean. Hell, I don't know anyone who is. What if I think I'm in love with you too?" "Then no offense, but you're crazier than I am." There was a spark of hope, and he ran a hand through his hair out of his blue eyes. They always held so much emotion and now was no exception. "I'm sorry if this has been what was holding you back. And I'm sorry I didn't catch on sooner." "You ain't got nothing to be sorry for." His hand came up to cup your cheek, and you let yourself be kissed by him. It was slow, and sweet, and full of emotion you had been denying for so long; both of you. This felt right, outside of the bedroom and lies and repressed feelings. Even pulling away was hard, but you still felt that connection. "I know we both have a match tonight, but I think after the event we should try this over." "Please? I think we have something here." "If you want it, I want it. I'm sure I do love you, though." "I do want it. And don't worry, I know I love you."

Please let me know if you enjoyed this, leave a like, comment, they make my day! Requests are open for writing and as always thanks for reading this! Ily awesome, beautiful people! *Bayley hugs*

[mon-amour-eternel]

Kings and Queens

Anti-Camille. I don’t think she’d do this in canon, but whatever, right? Also, the idea of Klaus having Caroline’s contact name be Queen is not mine.

Rated M but SFW for the most part. Part Two

Camille said goodnight to Klaus and his siblings with a plan in mind.

Rebekah had shown her to her temporary room -- she wasn’t safe in the city for some reason they didn’t tell her -- but that wasn’t where she was heading.

All upstairs was lined with spelled sage candles, though only a few were lit up. She sidestepped them for the room she wanted, at the end of the hall.

It was Klaus’ room, and she’d only ever seen it once. With dark walls, a big bed, and many pieces of artwork, it screamed ‘Klaus Mikaelson’.

She gently sat on the bed, wanting to savor being there. It was so intimate. She knew that no one else came in this room, but maybe he’d let her now that she’d come in. He was warming up to her, so it was a good possibility.

She looked around, hoping for more clues into his personality. She didn’t find much, just paintings, letters, and, oddly, a pair of women’s underwear. Camille stared at it for a long moment, noting how it seemed recent, almost like something she owned. She knew he’d never panty raided her...but what if he did? There would be no way she would know unless he said so. She shivered at the possibilities.

She set the lace down where it had been in the first place, in his drawer full of keepsakes, and moved back to the bed.

There was a phone on the bedside table. Curious, she picked it up, and opened it easily. None of the Mikaelsons had passcodes. Too technologically advanced, apparently.

There weren’t any apps, nothing on Safari, no notes, nothing like that. She didn’t check the texts, though, because surely there was a line she couldn’t cross and that was it. She did, however, check the contacts.

There were only a few -- Elijah, Katherine, Queen, Rebekah, and Stefan. She only recognized the names of his siblings, though the name Stefan did sound familiar. The other two names sent a flare of jealousy through her. Katherine? Queen? Really?

Completely disregarding her hesitancy, she clicks on the texting app.

There was no conversation with Katherine, though the rest showed up, all but one dated before she met him. She didn’t go deeper into the conversations with Elijah, Rebekah, and Stefan, just looked at the last text. With Elijah, the last line said, you are the most annoying person I’ve ever met. With Rebekah, it said, are you kidding me right now?! You let that strumpet into our home? URGH. With Stefan, it said, just fyi, Rebekah is out on a rampage and will eat whoever she feels like.

The most recent conversation was with Queen. The other conversations had been, in a way, cute. This one wasn’t. The last line said, I like the sound of you calling me your king. Way more provocative, in her opinion.

She clicked on that conversation, and scrolled to the top of the most recent conversation.

Klaus: Hello, love. How are you today?

Queen: Hey! I’m fine, just finishing up some homework. Wbu?

Klaus: Currently dealing with a Kol-induced headache.

Queen: Is he still having trouble with his control?

Klaus: Yes, unfortunately. We’re all trying to help but he doesn’t want us to. Maybe I can finally take you up on your offer…?

Queen: I’d love to but not quite yet. Still have half of a semester before summer break. Can he hold out that long? Plus are we sure he’d even listen to me?

Klaus: Most likely. And yes he’ll listen to you, the only reason he doesn’t listen to us is due to being either his older brothers, who want to sabotage him, or his younger sister, who wants to sabotage him. You’re an outsider, he won’t think you’re trying anything.

Klaus: I would also like to point out that last summer break you said you would come and then didn’t. I had to go all the way to Richmond, love, and I could only stay so long. This time, you have to come here and stay more than a week.

Queen: Aww were you lonely?

Queen: And god it’s not my fault that Damon pissed off those witches. Trust me, I’d much rather stay in bed with you than go pull Damon out of another one of his messes.

Klaus: Caroline, of course I was lonely. My Queen left our bed to deal with an imbecile when she could have been doing any number of more pleasurable things.

Queen: Did you have to deal with things on your own?

Klaus: Yes

Queen: Poor baby :(

Klaus: It isn’t funny, love. How many times have I left you hanging?

Queen: Literally every single time Elena or the Salvatores almost caught us

Klaus: Not true. I made up for it every time. You haven’t made up for yours yet.

Queen: My roommate isn’t here. You wanna?

Klaus: Call me, love, and we can get started.

There was a pause in the conversation, though Camille barely noticed it. She was way too concerned with the fact that the conversation between Klaus and Queen/Caroline had turned sexual very quickly.

Klaus: I like the sound of you calling me your king.

The whole thing had taken place not even a week before. She’d never seen him use this phone before.

She set the phone down, shocked. When Klaus had been talking to this girl, Camille had been sure that he was interested in her.

Was she the other woman? Was Queen the other woman? Who was Klaus interested in, and who was he committed to?

Suddenly determined, she picked the phone up again, and scrolled as far up as she could.

The texts went from antagonizing to flirty. There was sexting, and heart to hearts. The texts went back to early 2012. She met him in late 2013, meaning...she was the other woman.

Oh my god. Could she handle being the other woman? Could she be okay with being in a relationship with a cheater? She wasn’t sure.

She sat and stewed about it for a few minutes. Klaus wasn’t someone she would have ever pinned as a cheater. He didn’t have any of the signs, except the anger issues some cheaters had. Those came from other things, though. No matter what she thought, though, it was clear -- he was cheating.

With a sigh, she decided what she had to do. She couldn’t be with a cheater. She would tell this Queen about what was going on. And maybe...mark her territory while she’s at it.

Klaus: I need to tell you something

Klaus: It’s really important, you’ll want to know

Queen: Woah is everything okay?

Klaus: I’m cheating on you

Queen: Okay...who is this? Kol? Rebekah? Because haha great joke :|

Klaus: I’m not kidding. I’m cheating on you. No joke

Queen: It clearly is a joke, because ever since the last time we saw we each other, he said we are 100% exclusive. If this was actually Klaus, you would know that. So who is this?

Klaus: It is me love. I’m not lying. I fell in love with someone else. Stop texting me.

Queen: I don’t believe you

Klaus: Well you should because I don’t love you anymore

Klaus: I never did

Queen: Fine. But...I think I’ll take a little trip over the long weekend and come to NOLA. And if I’m welcomed into the arms of a certain hybrid, then I’ll find out who this is and rip your liver out

Camille scoffed. How could Klaus be interested in someone so...abrasive?

She heard a noise, probably just Kol getting a little too drunk, but it opened her eyes. She was running out of time before Klaus came to his bedroom, and she wasn’t sure he would be too happy that she was snooping. It would take time for him to fully let her in, and now, he could, because Queen was going to be gone. She would be free to be with Klaus...forever.

She texted one more thing, then deleted all the messages, and set the phone back where it was.

Klaus: I never loved you, honestly. You’re a distraction and nothing more

Camille smiled and left the room.

An hour later, Klaus stumbled in, drunk in multiple ways. He was Caroline’s, and with that came celibacy until they saw each other, but he couldn’t give up blood. She didn’t care, though. All his queen cared about was that he save his stamina for her and her only.

They hadn’t spoken in days, both too busy with their individual lives. Maybe she would be interested in a little fun tonight.

He laid in bed, and grabbed the phone. It was old, and was now used only for Caroline to contact him. No one else texted or called the number.

There was a few texts from her. At first, he was happy to see them, but then he read them. His smile slipped off his face.

Queen: Give up the ghost. I know you’re lying.

Queen: No answer? Seriously? Am I going to have to get on the first plane out?

Queen: Klaus, answer me

The last thing he’d sent to her was a saucy comment after a lengthy...conversation. He didn’t know what she was talking about.

Klaus: What are you talking about, love?

Queen: Who had your phone?

Klaus: No one did. It’s been in my room, far away from my siblings, all week. No one’s had it except me

Queen: So that was you?

Klaus, unsure of what she was referring to, texted, ...yes?

Queen: Oh my god.

Klaus: What? What is it? What did I do?

There was a long pause, and Klaus felt it deep inside himself. Caroline never took so long to respond, unless she was asleep.

Queen: “What did I do?”

Queen: Did you ever love me, Klaus? Or was I really just your distraction the whole time? Was I only a way to get back at Stefan and Damon?

Klaus sat up, mouth agape. What on earth was she going on about?

Klaus: To be perfectly honest, on your birthday, I came to your home with ulterior motives. But that changed the moment we started talking. And you know that I love you, Caroline. I’ve loved you since the ball.

Klaus: What brought this on?

She sent several angry-faced emojis. In any other situation, he would have laughed, but none of this was funny to him.

Queen: [images]

He clicked on the first one, and read as someone used his number to tell Caroline she meant nothing to him.

He sighed. It was something Kol would do in a rage, or Rebekah in a tantrum, maybe even Freya is she was feeling a little...influenced. The only problem was that all of his still-alive siblings were with him when the texts started. The only other people in the home were Davina, who had come to the living room midway through the texts, Lucien, who was suffering from a snapped neck, and...Camille.

He had a moment of clarity, and realized it could have been no one else. Camille was infatuated with him, and despite his every attempt to make her realize it was not mutual, she hadn’t quite caught on. And the words reeked of her.

Klaus: Caroline, I promise, that was not me. That was a...friend of mine who I imagine will not be living much longer. She’s delusional, love. Everything she said was a lie. Don’t believe any of that, please, love.

Queen: You said it was you, tho

Klaus: I thought you were talking about the last time we spoke. I have none of those texts on my phone.

Queen: So this bitch deleted the texts?

Queen: Can I rip her throat out?

Klaus: No, I quite like the idea of you coming here and us showing her just how much I love you. What do you think of that, love?

Queen: I love that idea. I’ll be there this weekend. But I think we need to do something in the meantime.

Klaus: Oh? And what’s that?

Queen: Kings take care of their queens. Hop to it.

He smiled and hit the call button. There would be consequences, that was for sure, but at the moment, he had to reassure his love.

Camille would have to wait to feel his wrath. Though, he was sure, Caroline would be much worse than him.

[dovadjesblog]

How To express Your Feelings to a girl you just met?

Mukul Sharma

Break your heart to make it Strong.

80w ago

There are no steps to explain your feelings. This love is not only blind but retarded. It makes you do things which turns your world upside down but still you enjoy it, trust me every bit of it. Confessing is a difficult task and it takes a lot of courage and patience to do.

So yes, confess your feelings to that girl, all raw. Go to her and ask for your time, and then in one go, speak it all out. Loving was not your mistake, it never is. Say whatever you feel like but don't force anything on her. It is only her decision what her reply would be.

If she does feel the same, congratulations you are one lucky fella and if it's a no, welcome to the world of one sided lovers. Whatever is her reply, in both the cases you grow. And in the latter one you get to know the real meaning of love and sacrifice.

Welcome to the WORLD. :)

Ozair Shaikh

Mind reader, loves to know different people

120w ago

*this is how i did, by writing a rhyme for her, in a way, a story..!!! *

                Colour'

today is the day, i think i shud express my love

   we started to chat.. i tld her that shes the angel sent frm above

   was abt to tell her hw mch i loved her..

   bt the same moment she asked me abt my fav colour...

i was abt to type balck and white...

    coz thats what i really like..!!

then i thought of something which i felt wud set things right..!!!

i took a pause and began to type...

     i hope she understands whats in my mind..!!

   she asked me again, what the color is...??! and that why am i taking sooo mch of time..

     i asked her for a min... and started to rhyme..!!

and so i started to text..!!

    finally, i was ready with the best..

i said i like the color of her smile...

   the color of her talks...

the color of her heart coz its very pure...

    she smiled and asked me if i was okay...

     i asked her to wait, coz i had something to say

she agreed to wait..

    and so i started again

the color of ua hand

   when it holds me tight

the color of ua cheeks

   when it turns red from white

the color of ua lips

    the one i wanna kiss

the color of ua hair,

    when it swings here and there

the color of ua walk..

    the color of ua eyes

the colour of ua skin..

     they turn me real high

the color of the mark that will stay on my cheeks after u kiss

     the color of the happiness,love and bliss

the color of ua hug

      when u hold me close

the colour of ua giggle

     when i kiss ua nose

the colour of the warmth that will fade neva

    the color of the love, that shall stay forever..!!

by this i was done.. my heart skipped beats..!!

    she sent a text which i was desperate to read...!!

she said she feels special, being liked by me

     and asked if i loved her seriously..!!

i answered her question,

     i guess she was impressed...

     i asked her if she loved me too, and waited badly for a "yess"

Wisey Gyft Mkhulwane

studied at University of Swaziland

7w ago

Be yourself. Unless yourself is a goof, which also might be something she likes.

Whoever said that one should perform gimmicks to make someone like them. Any act or acting that you do to impress a girl you will have to keep doing to sustain it. And if you are stepping out of your normal self in order to impress someone pretty soon you begin to be uncomfortable.

Give her the person she will be stuck and let her make her decision. The sweet part about that is that you being natural will also allow her to be natural. She wont have to put up facades just to impress you also.,

Be yourself. IT doesn’t hurt to pick up a few good habits, like being charming, being sweet, being sensitive, and knowing how to listen. Those are bonuses.

Michelle Lin

I studied psychology, but I still love learning more!

83w ago

It really depends on what your girlfriend’s love languages are.

These are the 5 love languages:

Gifts: Ex. Giving gifts on her birthday, etc.

Words of Affirmation: Ex. Encouragement, compliments, etc.

Quality Time: Ex. Watching a movie together, taking a walk together, etc.

Physical Touch: Ex. Hugs, kisses, etc.

Acts of Service: Ex. Acts of kindness, helping her wash the dishes when she is busy, etc.

If you know your girlfriend’s love languages, then your girlfriend will feel loved; make sure she knows yours too! Talk to her about things that make her feel loved, what kind of things to avoid doing, etc.

Goodluck and I wish the best for you.

Ankita Tibrewal

Senior Executive at Blue Star Limited (2017-present)

82w ago

It totally depends on your relationship. If the girl wants something fancy, something out of the box or is looking for creative kind of proposals then you will have to go an extra mile but if the girl is simple and sweet enough to agree on simple but meaningful things then you will have to cover double miles as this is the tricky part where you will have to remember all those sweet little things which maies her genuinely happy and then compile it to make something meaningful or you can look for some DIY’s . So all the best and congratulations! Hope she says yes.

Krutee Verma

Been there, Done that, and left it far behind

98w ago

People come and go, but you will be there for her always.

Ofcourse, She will meet new people have boy-friends but it will be always be different than what she experiences with you. because there’s a feeling called love and we don’t feel that with everyone.

Spend individual time with her, take her out when its just you and her, tell her how you will be there for her no matter what happens, maintain loyalty by telling her everything, whether good or bad and make her realise that, ask her to tell you everything if she is comfortable, give her time and space to be with friends and family as well, believe in her but not blindly, if something bothers you tell her that it does and ask what to do about it. Talk about it and keep it simple.

Rudra Pratap

Technofreak,artistic and much more...

121w ago

The thing I am going to advice you is very simple but lil hard to do!So listen carefully,if you truly love her just be there for her no matter what.Always be her well wisher in good and bad times!You are not much in contact make more contact!Remember love always starts with friendship,show her what kind of a person you are!Always be there!Be such a important part of her daily life that even if she doesn't talk to you for a day she should feel something is missing,just be her best friend,eventually she will also fall you!May be it will take little time but be patient!The more you are patient the sweeter is the fruit!!When you feel you are very close to her and she finally knows what kind of a person you are,tell her your feeling!!What you feel no more no less,you will succeed brother!!I hope you get the love of your life and be happy\U0001f60a

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