#'search it again!!' buddy u do not understand how the search works!!

[usermoreid]

kids choose the strangest hills to die on. why am i beefing with a four year old over fireboy and watergirl

[luveline]

Hii! How are you?

I love all ur fics especially Hotch and his adult daughter ones. They are just brilliant<3 Can u please write something with Hotch being worried about his daughter as faints or get injured? Thank you!

thank you for requesting! <3 fem, 2k

There are silver-linings to your concussion. Not many, and he’d much prefer you were better, but silver linings all the same. 

You, unable to look after yourself with on-again off-again dizziness and shortness of breath, have no choice but to stay at Aaron’s house. (Well, you could’ve stayed home, and he could’ve come to visit you a few times a day while your mother worked, but this is easier on his gas tank and his heart.) 

The silver lining is that he actually gets to spend time with you, large swaths of it, and that he gets to see you without your smart formalwear for the first time since you’d met all but four months ago. It will never not be strange to have a daughter and to be her acquaintance, but Aaron feels that this time is perfect to get to know you beyond two hour dinners and texts. 

It is admittedly occasionally awkward, but he doesn’t expect it to be easy. He doesn’t need you to pretend that you’re more comfortable with him than you are, or that he’s been there for you as you deserved. He wishes he was, and he can’t forgive your mother for keeping you a secret, but he can understand her reasoning (to some extent), and he can try to give you what you deserve, because it is about you. You’re a young woman who deserves a father and has one now. He’s determined to prove that it isn’t too late. 

You curl on the family couch with a new pillow under your head. You wear pyjamas he bought you, socks you’ve borrowed, and a big blanket covers your legs. Jack sits on your feet eating grapes from a bowl. 

You look younger without makeup. Aaron can almost see you as a kid. 

“You want another grape?” Jack asks you. 

“Please, buddy,” you whisper, holding out your hand. 

You’re trying not to talk or move too much, as movement hurts your nose, which was broken. Aaron still can’t believe someone hurt you —you were assaulted in the subway during a city riot and passed out as result, where you hit your head, and ended up where you are now with post concussive syndrome.

A bad fall can do such great harm, he can’t imagine how awful it would’ve been to have met you and had you stolen from him that swiftly. He’s a lucky man. 

Aaron almost hadn’t answered when you called, about to change into Kevlar and prepare the BAU for an anti-terroism strike that Strauss shoved into their laps. He’d smiled briefly at your contact photo and thought of the phone call he’d have with you later to apologise for missing the first, but then he got a strange feeling. What could it hurt for him to make sure you weren’t in the centre of it? 

“Do you want water?” Jack asks. 

You hold out your hand again, searching for Jack’s. You find it and give his fingers a squeeze. “No thank you. You don’t have to worry about me, I just want you to watch your movie.” 

“I’ve seen it a hundred– hundred times,” he says, taking his hand back to eat another grape. After a moment, he lays his cheek against your legs where you have them bunched up. 

“Don’t choke on your grapes,” you say. 

“Don’t worry,” he says. 

You laugh quietly. “I won’t.”

Aaron closes his laptop, having failed to work from home in the armchair beside you both. He might need some help to get back to a functioning place when he returns to the office, but his hands itch with a different need today. He checks his watch. 

“Time for another dose, if you want it?” he asks you. 

“Please.” 

It’s only anti-nausea and painkillers, but you’re quite dependent on them. He’s staying on top of them, because on your second morning here, you’d woken up and forgotten the anti-nausea. Being sick with a broken nose is agony. He doesn’t wanna see you crying again. (Though again, that had made you closer. To get to rub your back, and promise it wasn’t too disgusting, he could deal with it no problem.) 

Haley hums in the kitchen. She’s happy to have her way, which is to have him home, if vaguely bitter that it’s for you. He understands her annoyance, but it’s different. If Jack were attacked and recovering, of course Aaron would be home with him, as he’s home with you, but he won’t stay home for much less and lately, it's been a point of great contention between them. 

Still, she’s a good woman who looks after everyone the best that she can. Your pills are waiting on the counter with a glass of apple juice and a muffin, and your laundry is being folded from the dyer next to Jack’s. 

Aaron ushers her in for a grateful hug, a kiss pressed to her soft cheek. “Thank you, honey.” 

“You’re welcome. She shouldn’t take so much tylenol when she’s barely eating. You’re gonna have to convince her.” 

“I will. I was thinking I’d make soup. You know, my mom’s split pea. What do you think?” 

“Does she like split pea soup?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Just ask, Aaron,” she says, not without sympathy. 

“I was going to.” 

Haley gives a long sigh. “I’m sorry.” 

He rubs her arm. They’ve been very far apart lately, so far that he’s wondered if they’re not going to make it work, but for today they seem back in sync. 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says. 

“No, I am. I know it’s impossible, but I keep imagining how I would feel if it happened to me.” She wipes lint or maybe nothing from his collar. “What if I had a baby out there and I knew nothing about her? It’s not… not fair on either of you.” 

“Worse things have happened, Hale.” Because it really is awful, but he doesn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him. You, yes. Poor girl, your poor nose. Aaron gives Haley a quick kiss. “We’ll be okay. Don’t worry about it, hm?” 

“Okay, honey. Well, find out what she wants for dinner.” 

“I’m gonna make it.” 

“I can make it.” She moves back to her pile of laundry. “I don’t have much to do, with you home. It’s nice.” 

He winces, grabbing your pills, your juice, and the muffin. Aaron has no qualms sharing duties, but he can’t have this conversation again. Of course it’s nice to be home, that’s not the issue. 

You and Jack are exactly where he left you eating grapes and watching TV, but you’ve shifted upward a little to make more room for him, the blanket now over his legs.

“Are you looking after your big sister?” Aaron asks. He can’t help himself. 

Jack grins at him. “Yeah, dad. We need more grapes.” 

“Yeah?” Aaron walks around the couch to pass you the few pills into your hand. He crouches in front of you. It hasn’t stopped feeling alien, suddenly having two kids, but it has started to feel right. “It’s dinner time soon, Jack, can you wait? I don’t want you to have a full tummy.”

“What’s for dinner?” he asks. 

Aaron passes you the glass of juice for you to wash down the pills. “I was thinking we’d let Y/N choose…” He taps your knee gently. “Do you have a craving for anything?” 

“I can’t choose,” you say. 

His hand turns to cup your knee, hoping it isn’t too much. “Sure you can. Jack chooses dinner all the time.” 

“I’ll eat whatever.” 

“You’ve barely eaten all day, isn’t there something you love? Something soft?” 

You look like him when you’re not happy. Unsure, you look to Jack. “Can’t Jack pick, please?” 

“It’s your turn,” Jack says. 

Aaron puts the muffin he’d been given for you on your knee. “Honey, just think about it. There’s no rush. You and Jack can live off grapes for the rest of the night.” 

“Mean,” you murmur. 

Jack slips off of the couch with his bowl. He makes for the kitchen, his wobbly declarations of love cute and ringing when he sees his mom. “Hi, mommy. You’re pretty. Can I have grapes?” 

“Hi baby.” 

You smile, fingertip playing with the muffin’s paper casing. “He’s so lovely.” 

“I know.” 

“It’s okay, right?” 

Aaron holds your gaze. Not commanding, but listening intently. “What’s okay?” 

“For us to– you know. To cuddle.” 

“Yes, it’s okay. Jack makes his own mind up about things, and if he wants to cuddle with you, he will. If you don’t want him to cuddle, you can ask him for space.” 

“It’s strange,” you say, laying your face against your pillow, muffin ignored, “to have a brother now.” 

“Bad strange?” he asks. 

You smile. Almost hopeful. “No.” 

Aaron does know what you’re thinking. He has four months of evidence on your behaviour, and you aren’t dishonest, so he believes his frame of reference to be correct. Right now, you’re feeling unwell, maybe the pain in your face is flaring or your concussion is giving you grief, but you seem to already love your little brother. If not love, then to be very fond of him. You have similar feelings about Aaron, but you’re shy about showing it. 

He understands that you might not feel very close to him so soon, he understands that you’re practically still strangers, but he loves you. Maybe it’s something innate in being your father, but he really does love you. 

It’s like being passed your baby —you don’t know your baby, they’re a baby, but you love them. Aaron doesn’t know if you like vegetable soup more than French onion, if you like buttered bread or a dinner roll or toasted baguette on the side, but he’ll learn. 

“I’ll make you anything you want for dinner,” he says softly, looking for your hand in the blankets, and taking it with similar care. “You just have to tell me what you like.” 

You look down at his hand. 

“Sorry for making things difficult.” 

“You’re not making anything difficult.” His thumb rubs your hand of its own accord. “You aren’t difficult. You’re remarkably easy to look after.” 

“Thank you.” 

“If you could just pick what you wanted for dinner…” 

You both laugh at one another, and you wince at the soreness in your nose. Aaron stands from his crouch with aching legs to pat you on the shoulder. 

“I’ll figure something out,” he says. “I’m a good guess, usually.” 

“Okay. Thank you, Aaron,” you say, resting with a sore squint back against your nest. 

In the kitchen, Jack sits in Haley’s lap, his bowl filled again with more grapes. She’s chewing on one when he comes back. “Hey, did she decide?” 

“Not yet. I’m working on it.” 

“Well, we have time.” 

[vintagelacerosette]

Wednesday tag game

Hiii darling angelpies! I am here on timeish 😆

I was tagged by these dazzling sweethearts Nosho @creepkinginc Mel @gardenerian Evie @energievie Deanna @deedala Kat @ mybrainismelted Julia @blue-disco-lights Al @spookygingerr Jessica @guinguin1984

How did you get into the fandom?

Like a lot of us 😆 I saw a fan edit of Mickey & Ian on YouTube (I can't find it again even when I've searched my history 😭) I was kinda in between fandoms at the time with Malex from Roswell New Mexico but they were broken up at the time & buddie lol.

But then I was shot through the heart when I went through the gallavich tag & it felt like home 🥰

How long have you been here?

I was lurking at the end of 2021 & the first official time I contributed to this darling fandom in Feb 2022 with gallacrafts 💝

What's the first fandom channel you found? (youtube, reddit, tumblr, insta, twitter, FB, other?)

Here on tumblr babeeeyy

What's your favourite now?

Still tumblr but I wish I was better on discord 😅 I get overwhelmed & don't wanna talk over ppl 😔

Which mutual have you known the longest in the fandom?

Oh my goodness I had no idea but my longest mutual is the always spectacular Calli @callivich 🥰🩵💙 woooww!!

Which tumblerinos did you have your first fandom crush(es) on and wanted to get to know?

Y'all have to understand you are all unbelievably swoon worthy & there's only so many ppl I can tag in one post (damn you tagging limit 😣)

Ok, so definitely have a big crush on Deena @suzy-queued & to see smitten feeling is mutual got me

GIF by theresaphoenixinmyboot

Alice @darthvaders-wife Jane @captainjowl Mitch @psychicskulldamage when we became mutuals I squealed bc how much talent??

Jenna @ianrightsonly & Kay @goodkwuestion their fics changed me

Also, Benja @svltburn | Nosho | Vey @look-i-love-u Macy @heymacy Julissa @heymrspatel Jo @jomilky Harvey @mikhailoisbaby Georgia @iansw0rld Molly @deathclassic Stas @messedwithmandy Howl @howlinchickhowl Michelle @michellemisfit | Deanna | LJ @ofalltheginjoints Sam @sam-loves-seb Face @ burninface | Calli | AJ @ clingymickey Mills @gallavichsbitch Leah @whatwouldmickeydo

Also Jay!! You've left but gave me butterflies 🦋

Pls I kind hate this question! I've come to the conclusion I have a crush on you all OK?? 😭

This is why I make y'all Valentine's

First gallavich fan fic you read (or that blew you away that you remember)?

By the magnificent Kay The Increasingly Poor Decisions of Ian Gallagher!!! OH MY GOSH JUST THINKING ABOUT THIS FIC MAKES ME FEEL ELATED & FERAL!!! It's my favourite piece of written work & I need my non gallavich ppl to read it so I can scream into their faces how much I love it 🥰🩷🩷🩷

First fan art that blew your mind?

Seriously, Deena's gallacrafts & art always take my breath away!!! Like the artistry & creativity?? I wanna get to your level 🥰

It's three dimensional & has twinkling lights ✨️ I was astounded & my jaw literally dropped 😍

All of Alice's art especially my commissioned art 🩷

Also, Mitch's comic I stared at it forever like Ian's eyes reflecting Mick's booty 🍑👀

Fanfic trope that you were sure wasn't for you but now you low key (or high key) love?

I have read some pretty freaky & nasty fic bc of curiosity, so I nothing really gave me icks in tropes, but in writing style, I got turned around with Jen @wehangout with second person POV. You're so talented that I really enjoyed them when I would nope out before 😆

What surprised you most about this fandom?

Everything surprised me about this fandom bc it was my first one!! 😆 I didn't really know how to do tumblr & didn't really get how to interact. So I used tumblr like a sticker book, then came learning tags & so ppl reached out to me which helped me gain confidence haha

This is kinda a golden standard fandom. So welcoming, loving & encouraging!! If I ever dabble in another fandom, imma have a high standard bc I've been spoiled by y'all! ILY

Moment in the show (or YT vids if you're one of those) that you fell in hyperfixation with gallavich?

It was the "I'm fucking gay" scene to the "Guess what we've been doing daddy" The way he humps the car with all that conviction & screaming "he fucking loves it".

Everything clicked & I was like "Damn I love this fictional man." He is my favourite character of all time & this ship is my OTP & GOAT.

Also I love this edit too. It gives me chills

Ian or Mickey?

Mickey, but holy shit I love them both

Which gallagher or milkovich are you?

I took a page from @/guinguin1984 & did some quizzes & I got Fiona Ian Fiona Debbie not of them feel right ahaha

I guess Fiona bc I had her twice 😅

Consider yourself tagged if I have a crush on you or mentioned you. Also tagging these sunshines & if you wanna do it too, have at it 💛🥰

@lingy910y @mickittotheman @doshiart @crossmydna @y0itsbri @7x10mickey @whatthebodygraspsnot @ms-moonlight-inn @mmmichyyy @sickness-health-all-that-shit @kiinard @transmickey @gallawitchxx @sleepyheadgallavich @rereadanon @whaticameherefor @darlingian @andthatisnotfake @ian-galagher @francesrose3

[solarsleepless]

i need u to give me all the hcs u Ever have for hoh deena bro I NEED U TO GIMME THEM NOWWW

PANDORA'S BOX BUDDY PANDORA'S BOX

so basically the fight went a bit more brutally and i'm still looking for details but what i have is that fuckass goode hit deena on the head a lot, which caused her hearing issues. she got help when she got to the hospital but there wasn't much they could do and they couldn't afford hearing aids (her dad's working more to try and get some).

they exist in a sort of limbo for a while, unsure of what to do or how to feel about it. deena's pretty scared that she'll never be able to hear sam or josh's voice (she can only hear them if they're right next to her ear) ever again, and has her fair share of breakdowns, with which sam tries her best to be there for her

after a few months, josh finally stumbles across ASL while searching for information on deafness and they end up learning. sam's very enthusiastic, trying to commit as many signs to memory. josh is the most realistic about it, saying it'll take a while, but he still puts so much effort into it because he can see how frustrating it is for deena to just not understand them. as for deena herself, she doesn't like it, but she's learnt to adapt all this time, as any shadysider has to, and pretty quickly warms up to it.

one of the first signs she learns is beautiful so she can sign it at sam :)

[babyboibucky]

Should’ve Known Better

Pairing: EB!Frank x Reader

Summary: You should have known better than to sleep with a friend.

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: Smut, FWB set-up, a little bit of toxic shit, angst

A/N: Frank got the most votes when I asked which other Seb character I should write for, so here it is! This is very personal to me lmfao it’s somewhat based on my own experience that really fucked me up a couple of years ago aksncajscna no but for real, stay away from the friends with benefits kind of relationship if you can’t keep shit purely sexual lmao also some guys are just fucking assholes even if they’re your friend lol

ALSO, I tagged those who are in my Everything Bucky Tag List. I’m not sure if I’ll write more Frank in the future too so I won’t be creating a separate tag list for him yet.

MAIN MASTERLIST

"Do you love me?"

It was a simple question that was supposed to make you think. Given your experiences and your personality in general, you were supposed to cringe and ignore it. Maybe even make a joke out of it, especially that it was Frank who was asking you this question.

He wasn't supposed to ask it too. He wasn't one to ask such thing, not especially with the relationship that the both of you have. It was clear from the get go that this was nothing serious.

So why was he asking it now?

And why did you respond to it right away, as if you knew your answer even before he asked?

-

"Come on, it'll be fun."

You should've said no. You should have known better.

"I'll make you feel good, you won't regret this."

It did feel good, you were going to give Frank that. Possibly the best, even. But the latter part? You weren't so sure. Were you regretting it? Honestly, no.

Maybe not yet.

You'd rather not think about it for now.

"What's there to lose? We know each other too much to develop feelings anyway, you said so yourself."

Oh there's plenty to lose. Maybe a decade's worth of platonic (was it really platonic from the beginning though?) friendship. Your self-esteem was on the line too, but you didn't know it yet. You'll get there though, whether you like it or not.

"I'm free next Friday, come over. Spend the night with me. What do you say?"

You should've said no. You should have known better.

"Next Friday. I'll see you, okay?"

You should've said no. You should have known better.

"Ugh, fine."

But you said yes because you didn't know any better.

-

That first night with Frank was something else. It was fun and he kept his promise to make you feel good. So, so good. You never thought that sex could be that fucking good. At least, not with your previous partners. Not that you had many in the first place.

But god, Frank knew what he was doing and he loved doing things to you. He loved the entire process of knowing your body, what you liked and what you loved. How you liked to be kissed and touched and fucked.

He studied your body like his fucking life depended on it and you let him. You let him own your body because you needed someone to. You needed to feel something, wanted to have a purpose even for just a short while, even if it meant being someone's fuck buddy.

You felt lost for the longest time, but as you laid on Frank's bed with his tongue lapping up your cunt, you actually felt like you belonged somewhere.

-

You weren't a booty call, definitely not. And when things escalated between the both of you, Frank was already single and had broken off with his recent girlfriend, Daphne. You weren't a doormat nor a side chick. Frank had been your friend for the longest time, one of your closest actually. He knew you the best and not just physically. Frank knew the darkest parts of you the same way you knew him like the back of your hand. He was the most open to you, he said so himself.

"I don't know what I'd do without you." he told you one time.

Frank wasn't afraid to show you his true colors; how he wasn't the kind to settle for one or how he would often end up with someone immature or toxic. He himself was toxic and for the most part, you tolerated him.

That was the mistake on your part.

You let him be himself, that's why you held a special place in his heart. Not even his past girlfriends could get rid of you. You were untouchable.

"Are you sure she's fine with us going out?" you asked Frank one time, as the both of you headed to the movies.

He scoffed, "Yeah, don't worry. I already told her you're my best friend. You're off limits." he chuckled as he placed his hand on the small of your back, guiding you inside the cinema.

"You're fine." he reassured again, this time wrapping his arm around your shoulder and then cradling your head playfully.

-

Looking back, you sometimes ponder whether the friendship was really platonic. You were sure of it when the both of you first became friends; he was a couple of years older than you. You sort of looked up to him like an older brother for the first few years of your relationship. And he was very caring too, always looking out for you.

Your other friends were the first one to notice the closeness. They often told you that Frank seemed to have a thing for you. You brushed it off though, saying that it was impossible.

His girlfriend then was an acquaintance of yours. She was nice and wasn't bothered by how Frank was affectionate towards you.

Indeed, you were untouchable. You were the best friend after all.

-

"We fought again."

You rolled your eyes at Frank as he sat across from you at a local coffee shop near your place. It was your birthday and as always, you spent the most part of it with Frank.

It was like a tradition already, to celebrate your birthday with Frank first before you went out with your friends. Or even family. It was that kind of friendship.

"I'm sorry but who are we talking about again?" you joked.

Frank made a face, "Daphne." he responded. "I just told you about her like, two days ago."

You snickered, "I was kidding. But honestly though, you have to stop flirting with other girls. It's been really difficult for me to keep track of your record, Frank. And are you and Daphne even official?" you asked, taking a sip from your cold brew.

He rubbed his chin and shrugged, "Sorta. Well, we were official two weeks ago. Now though, I'm not so sure. Here's the thing, Daphne can be really..." he said, trying to search for the right words.

You hummed and shook your head, "Immature?" you said and mindlessly scrolled through your phone.

"You should really stop dating girls who are immature, Frank. I swear to god, this is like...I don't know, the fifth time you dated someone like her? Why don't you settle for someone who actually acts her age?" you blurted out.

Frank groaned and transferred to the seat next to you, his body facing yours and his hand landing on your thigh. You didn't mind, didn't think it was too touchy or intimate for someone who was in a relationship. It was pretty common for Frank to be this touchy with you anyway, you never paid much attention to it nor given it any malice.

"We fought because of you actually." Frank admitted with an apologetic smile.

Your head snapped towards him, a scowl etched on your face. "What did I do?!" you asked in defense.

"It was my fault. Daph saw your photo inside my wallet." he said.

"You should really throw away that photo. Jesus, why do you still have it anyway?" you complained.

Frank scoffed, "That's my favorite photo of you. I don't wanna get rid of it."

That was the last day that you considered your friendship with Frank platonic.

-

Come over

I miss u xoxo

Miss eating u out

Miss ur moans, wanna hear them again

You groaned at the continuous notifications that flooded your phone. While you were at work. After that first night with Frank, he had gotten extra clingy. No lies though, it felt nice to be wanted like this.

im free nxt Sat

Yay

Cant wait to see u, missed u a lot

dude, we were at the mall together just last wk

U really dont get attached do u?

Frowning at Frank's reply, you honestly didn't understand what he was implying.

what u mean?

Nothing

Work kept you busy for the entire week, with Frank bombarding you with sweet texts. You've avoided being sweet with him, it felt wrong. You weren't an affectionate person but Frank was, it was sort of one-sided. It wasn't a big deal anyway.

No one from the rest of your friends knew what had become of your friendship with Frank. You just thought it wasn't something that should be revealed. It was like your and Frank's little secret. You had to admit, the thrill only made the sex better.

Whenever the both of you went out with other people, the tension was there and it was fun. It was fun trying to brush off the way Frank's hand would steal touches from your waist, or how he'd subtly squeeze your thigh. The looks you exchanged from across the room; how Frank's "fuck me" eyes were meant for you and only you.

Things like that made you feel a certain type of way. But you never dwelled on it, or at least, you thought you didn't.

-

"Yeah, fuck...just like that, baby."

Frank's fingers dug deeply into the skin of your ass as he guided your hips. You gripped onto the back of the couch as you bounced on his cock, head thrown back from pleasure as Frank suckled one of your nipples. You could feel each of his fingers pressing down against your skin, it's probably going to leave bruises again.

"Frank, shit. I'm close." you panted against the skin of his neck, your arms wrapping around his shoulders and pulling him close.

Frank grunted and took your face in between his palms, forcing you to look at him as he began to thrust his hips upwards, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from you.

"Wanted to see you like this ever since." he breathed out, pressing his lips against your open mouth.

"Wanted you since we met, d'you know that?" he asked, grabbing a fistful of your hair and tugging your head back so he could nibble on your throat.

You shook your head and gripped his shoulders, nails scratching at his skin as you continued to ride his cock, "God, Frank...so close." you moaned.

You felt Frank's lips curl into a smirk against your neck, his fingers gripping your hair to keep you in place as his other hand slipped in between your bodies, finding your clit and rubbing it to help you reach your climax.

Every single time he touched you, you felt like your entire body was on fire. You felt the most alive, the most free whenever Frank fucked you. Maybe because he was truly gifted in bed or maybe he just knew your body and how to make it sing.

Or maybe it was because of the way he looked at you whenever you fall apart for him. Like he only had eyes for you, like it was only you that he could see.

Sweaty bodies and hoarse voices, the smell of smoke and sex lingering in the air. It was such a familiar ambiance by now. You liked how the aftermath of fucking Frank was never awkward, if any, it was a comfortable experience with the both of you just talking casually about how each other's day went.

"So I'm talking to this girl..." Frank said, turning you around so he could spoon you. Oh, the irony of the intimacy and conversation.

"Where'd you meet this girl?" you asked.

"Tinder." Frank snorted before pressing a kiss on your nape. "No, but she's different. I don't know, there's something about her."

You merely hummed in response.

"Think I might ask her out."

The first sting. The first realization. The first denial.

You should've said no. You should've known better.

-

The art exhibit wasn't a flop, but you wouldn't call it a success either. When you got a call from the organizer asking whether they can include your paintings in the exhibit, you said yes instantly. What can you say? You were a struggling artist who was seeking validation.

But now that you stood in front of your works with barely ten people attending the one-day exhibit, you thought that this wasn't a validation. It felt like a wake up call that maybe, art wasn't your calling and that you should probably give up on your dream.

"These are amazing."

You were on the verge of breaking down when you heard his voice. Turning around, you were surprised to see Frank. He was nodding his head as he approached you, his eyes scanning each of your painting.

"What are you doing here? I thought you had work." you asked.

Frank gave you a face, "Did you really think I'd miss out on your first exhibit?" he said and pulled you into a warm embrace.

"I'm proud of you." he whispered before kissing the crown of your head.

One validation from Frank was all it took for the walls to crumble down. He was the one who had been there for you all along and that was why you completely trusted him.

Frank will never hurt you, he'll never bring you down.

Or so you thought.

-

"Do you love me?"

It was a question that was supposed to make you think. But you didn't, because even before Frank decided to ask you that, you already had your answer.

You knew your answer for the longest time now, but decided to lock it into a box that you kept in the deepest part of your heart. It remained there unbothered and almost forgotten, up until this point.

That's why it was so easy for you to respond to it without even batting an eye.

"Yes."

It was too late when you realized that you had just admitted that you were in love with Frank. But you felt like it was the right time for you to bring out the key to that box, open it and just set your truth free.

They said that the truth will set you free, but why does it feel like it only imprisoned you?

"Shit, I was kidding." Frank said, his face panicked and body stiff from your unexpected admission.

Before you could even say something, Frank let out a nervous laugh as he ran his hand through his locks. "Wow, I didn't...are you serious?" he asked again.

It took you everything to brush off the pain, "Yeah, but it's no big deal. Come on." you shook your head and forced out a breathy chuckle.

Frank heaved out a deep sigh, "Fuck, I was messing with you. Are you sure it's fine? I mean, would this change anything?" he asked.

You deadpanned, "No, Frank. It wouldn't change anything. Like I said, get over it. It's not like I'm in love with you. I just love you...if that makes sense? You're my friend." you explained, more like lied.

"Look, it's not like I'm unattracted to you. I like you, I like spending time with you. It's just that I sort of don't see myself committing to you."

It didn't sink in to you immediately, Frank's statement. You didn't pay it any mind because again, you knew Frank. He wasn't one to commit so that was fine, you understand where he was coming from. It's not like you were going to force yourself on him too. But then you accidentally glanced at his phone and saw the messages he'd been exchanging with a certain someone.

When r u coming home?

In a little while, Daph

That night, Frank's statement hit you like a ton of bricks but again, you chose to deny what you actually felt. It's fine.

You're fine.

-

You should've said no. You should've known better.

Those words rang in your ears on the day that you found out. Your body turned cold, your vision blurred and your head spun. You'd never experienced hurt and anger like this, the kind that consumed you.

The kind that made you realized and admit that fuck, you'd truly fallen for Frank only for him to break your heart.

It didn't help that you were having such a terrible day at work. And Frank was so sweet to ask you whether you wanted to meet up with him. Not for sex, but to talk. The sex came rarely recently and was replaced with wholesome trips to the grocery, shit like that.

You knew there was something special going on. Even after he told you that he didn't see himself being with you, there was something.

Apparently, that something was just an assumption. Because when you asked Frank to meet you up that night, he said he couldn't and needed to be somewhere. That he'd meet with you the next day instead, a promise.

But then you saw him post a photo of him and Daphne. And it made your blood boil.

u back together?

No. Not really, been trying to fix it but u know how it is.

if ur trying to fix it with her then im out, frank

Wait what? Hey, are u mad?

r u fucking serious? u knew i love u and u come here parading ur ex, what the fuck is that all abt?

Shit, hey. Look, let's talk later, okay? Im out, will txt u when Im free.

Frank didn't text you back for the rest of the day.

-

You should've said no. You should've known better. But you said yes because you didn't know any better.

Were you regretting it? Yes. Sometimes.

You didn't know which hurt the most, the fact that Frank kept you in the dark while he was trying to patch things up with his ex, or that he considered you his best friend and still chose to break your heart.

He knew you the best, your relationship and trust issues and out of all the people, he really had to be the one to fuck you up the most. You trusted him so much, trusted him not to hurt you. Hell, if he doesn't want to commit then that's fine. But for him to treat you like a second option? Fuck that.

For him to confuse you with his actions, the intimacy...were all of those even real? All the times he came to your support when you had no one, when he was there for you on days you felt alone. What were those? He made you feel so fucking special, like it was possible to actually turn the friendship into something more than just fucking.

All this time you thought it was one-sided because you never actually showed Frank how much you meant to him the same way he did to you. Turned out that it was one-sided, but only because you were the only one who fell.

The following day, you received a voicemail from Frank. You pondered whether you were ready to listen to it but at the same time, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. It was pretty stupid, he fucked you up and there was no excuse for that. But the friendship you had with him had a strong hold on you.

"Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you. That was my mistake." he started off. "I thought that this was really just sex and having fun, but I want you to know that I like you. I really do, you're special to me. Please give me a chance to make things right. Daph and I...I want to end things with her. Please stay, I don't know what I'd do without you."

“I just didn’t expect that you’d end up falling for me, I mean shit. You know the real me, how fucked up I am when it comes to relationships. Just please...please stay?”

Did you stay? Sort of. But you kept your distance, didn't meet up with Frank after that and only responded to his texts occasionally. Did he end things with Daph?

He didn't.

He said he would but instead, they got back together.

It was fucking selfish of Frank to ask for you to stay only for him to get back together with his ex. It'd be better for him to just slap you in the face then.

Being told that he couldn't see himself committing to you but then going back with his ex was the cherry on top. God, if that didn't mess up with your self-worth.

You totally stopped talking to Frank, ignored his texts and calls. You stayed away from him, tried to get over him and eventually, you did. But you'd be lying if you said that he never left an effect on you. Because he did, Frank did a number on you and it would take you a long fucking time to completely recover from the damage he inflicted on you.

You should've said no. You should've known better. But you said yes because you didn't know any better.

And that's okay, because there's nothing wrong with taking risks and ending up in heartbreak.

You live, you love and you learn.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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[imaginewarehouse]

Various Males x Fem!ExModel!Reader || Oneshot

Plot: You, a retired model get hired at Cloud 9 and, not-at-all-surprisingly, you get harassed by every allegeable (According to them) bachelor in the place- but god fucking damnit! You’re just here to get a paycheck??!  

“You can’t knock ‘em out, you cant walk away,

Try desperately to think about the politest way to say,

“Just get out of my face,”, “Just leave me alone,”

“And no you cant have my number,”,

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

(Inspired by Lily Allen’s Knock ‘Em Out)

Includes (In order of appearance after the introduction bit): Sal Kazlauskas, Garret McNeil, Tate Staskiewicz, Isaac (And I think my favouritism here definitely bleeds through*Cough*), Elias Greene, Cory, Jonah Simms, and Marcus White.

Warnings: Sal, harassment (They leave after you say no though. Just to be sure) 

🔆  🔆  🔆

“And uh, yeah one last thing before we all hop off to work! We have a new Cloud 9 family member. Y/N! Would you like to stand up?” Glenn, the lovely man who took your interview a week ago and then went out of his way today to look for you out front in the morning to show you around quickly and guide you through clocking in, finds you in the crowd of workers and gestures for you to stand.

Oh, uh- uhh, okay! Up we get, then, you think as you stand up like he said and take a look around at all the judging eyes, which normally wouldn’t phase you but here is a lot scarier than what you’re used to. This an entirely different environment to getting up at a modelling gig- you know nothing about working this kind of job! You’ve never done it, so, you’re afraid they’ll judge you right off the bat and make it difficult for you to ask questions. And you can’t keep bothering Glenn- he has more important things to do.

Oh god, you hear whispering. You peer around. Where is that coming from?-

“This is Y/N L/N! She’ll be working with Go back’s today,” Right, Go Back’s Easy enough; Glenn explained them earlier before the meeting started. “So if you see her in your area- be sure to say hello and see if she needs some help, K? Good. We’re jazzed to have you with us Y/N.”

“Thank you!” You quip quickly, then sit down and focus on Glenn again, hoping dearly at the same time that attention disperses from you immediately.

Glenn smiles, glancing down at his clipboard for any last-minute messages. “Okay! I think that’s it, so- “

The whispering from before suddenly cuts off. “Uh yeah, question?” Glenn stops short when a man in the back kind of rudely cuts him off, but sighs out a ‘Yes, Marcus?’ as the woman beside him - Dina, - rolls her eyes severely. Oh, you let a tiny ghost of a smirk slip over your lips. That’s kind of a reaction, isn’t it? “Yo- new girl.” What- me- w h y- You immediately get awkward again and twist around in your chair, but don’t really know who to look at. Luckily the tall brunette in the warehouse uniform is pointing, so you figure it out pretty quick that that’s who you’re looking for, and calm down. Mostly. 

Yeah? You raise one eyebrow. “Hi?”

He grins back to the right and the left of him, to his equally pleased buddies and pals, before raising a Vogue magazine- and it’s the issue on which you scored the front page. Jeez, that was months ago! “Is this you?”

A chorus of ‘Ohhhhh’ and general excitement travels around the room and for the first time ever, you’re half ashamed to admit that yes that is you. In your usual circle this is something to be proud of… but you get that it isn’t really like that, in non-modelling circles. In fact, it could be something to be embarrassed about.

Especially seeing that oh dude and his gang of Michael Myers fashion wannabes look like a hungry, dim-witted, wolves rather than plainly interested about your modelling career.

But, still, you smile politely and nod. Hopefully it’ll be forgotten before the afternoon, at least. “Yeah, that’s me.”

“Nice.”

Hmm… you really, really hope that it’s forgotten soon, at least, as you turn back around to face the front again as Glenn sends everyone off to work. Because if not, then these boys are going to learn the hard way that models take self-defence classes religiously.

Or at least you are going to have a very uncomfortable day, which is just great. You groan inwardly at the thought, as you gather up your coffee from the table beside you and drop it in the trash can on the way out.

~

You’re just doing your own thing and someone

Comes out of the blue,

They’re like,

“Alright”

But he’s saying

“Yeah can I take your digits?”

And you’re like, “No, not in a million years, you’re nasty.

Please leave me alone.”

There’s already so many Go Back’s! You think excitedly, as you get to work looking for where things should be. You’re glad to have something to do- at your first job with Chuck E Cheese, before you got into the modelling thing, you were basically useless the first day because you weren’t allowed to grill yet, you didn’t know how to assemble, and they didn’t want you out on the floor for the birthday party that was happening, in fear that you would mess up royally. So you just sat around trying not bother anyone, and that felt terrible. So, wandering the aisles of Cloud 9 with a full shopping trolley searching for products and neatening things up? Sounds like a good deal to you. Yes please.

“Uhh, hi.”

You practically jump entirely out of your skin, hearing the voice right beside you and whip your head around to see a balding guy in a blue Cloud 9 jacket. Is this man licking his fingers!?

“Uh,” You step back with your brightest, most polite smile, picking something up from the Go Back’s cart and rounding it to put it between you and the man, before acting like you’re stupid enough to be putting barbecue sauce in the Barbie section, and then… “Oh, oops! Silly me!” You flash the guy a nervous look. “I’m still working things out… “

Well? Better to look like an absolute idiot, then be standing within grabbing radius of the creepy man licking his fingers that you’re all alone in the middle of an empty aisle with. “Um… so, what’s up? Did someone send you to find me, or… am I doing something wrong? You know better than me, after all!”

“No… “His gaze licks up your form and if it weren’t for all your ‘training’ in staying still and not feeling this kind of thing- you absolutely would have wigged out. “You’re doing fine… Just wanted to see you.”

Boy- if anyone else could see your face right at this moment, full of disgust and mild horror, you’re sure you would be YouTubes next hit. Or a meme. “Oh… “You nervously chuckle. “Um, well, I’m gonna… go… “You pull the trolley around so that you can back up out the back of the aisle and escape through stuffed toys, into the open but his hand comes down on the other end of the trolley- stopping it. Before you can stop yourself, verbal diarrhoea spews from your lips. “Glenn has my resume- there’s a photo on there you can have.”

“That’s okay I prefer them to be breathing.” Both his hands are on the end of your trolley now, tight so his knuckles turn white, and he’s breathing unnecessarily heavy. He’s even leaning over the trolley some like his body really can’t handle whatever terrible heat is plaguing it right now. Oh god, oh god oh god oh god… this is so gross.

“Well, that’s… u-understandable...”

He looks up into your eyes, now, and doesn’t blink. Who the hell is this guy?! “Say… “ Oh no, oh no- he’s coming around the trolley-he’s coming around-he’s close-too close-too close-mayday-MAYDAY- Slowly, in your face, he licks up his thumb, makes an ‘Mm,’ sound, and you deeply wince; So much so in fact that one of your eyes completely closes. “Could I take your phone number?”

You absolutely couldn’t have helped what happened next if you had wanted to.

“Eeeeuuuwwwwwwww no not in a million years, your nasty, please leave me alone!!” You exclaim in a high voice before abandoning the trolley and rushing off to customer service.

~

“No you cant have my number,”

“Why?”

“Cuz I lost my phone.”

By the time you got to the front desk, you had basically calmed down and were mostly just stressed that you left the Go Back’s behind- but still must look troubled as the guy manning the front desk makes a confused, half-concerned but mostly intrigued kind of face at you as you stop there. You’re about to explain your appearance - that or just shrug, not too bothered about reporting whatever mess that was. Not on your first day, at least. No way. - when his face relaxes, and he nods. “Ohhh. Damn, Sal got to you?”

Sal? Was that the guy’s name? You didn’t check. “Oh, was that his name? I was a bit too preoccupied by his eyeballs sucking out my soul, to notice his name tag.” Now that you’re thinking about it, though, you glance at this man’s name tag. Garret.

“Yep, that’s Sal. That’s just one of the wonderful things involved in working here that you’ll just have to get used to.” Garret grins, offering you a chill perspective with a side of cynicism. You sigh, truly feeling relieved that you’ve found a normal person and relax your back against the taller part of the desk.

“Brilliant.” The sarcasm drips off the tip of your tongue.

“You’ll have to deal with a lotta that here, though, looking like you do.” You turn your head to the side to look already exhausted just by the idea, at him. He shrugs. “Hey, I don’t make the rules. I just speak the truth.”

“God- I feel sorry for the other women working here.”

“Oh, no. They’re in a completely different wheelhouse to you. Sorry.” Garret leans on his forearms on the desk, and you roll over to lean on your shoulder and pay attention. “See, you’re a model- “

“I was a model,”

“You were a model- which through primitive male thought process makes you prime real estate. Whoever manages to ‘bag’ you, for lack of a better word I apologise, gets some serious bragging rights.” He shrugs, and looks vaguely apologetic but still some how shameless as this utter bullshit slips out of his mouth. “We can’t help it- some of us don’t even know we’re doing that, but we are. Actually, I’m probably the only one who’ll admit it… which… kinda makes me your best option. Self-awareness, and all that.”

Oh. A dry laugh comes out of you as you feel a text come through in your back pocket and pull out your phone. As you see that its not an urgent message, you immediately put the phone back and glance around for any supervisors before returning to your conversation with Garret. “Oh- of course it does.”

“Exactly!” He grins, and you can’t tell through his expression at all whether he’s genuinely this clueless or if he’s just shooting his shot. “So- “

“No, you can’t have my number.”

“Why?”

Deadass, in a very monotone voice, you say: “I lost my phone.”

Then the two of you just have a stare off for a minute. Garret because he just saw you use your phone, and you because you wont back down.

~

“Oh yeah, actually yeah I’m, I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby in like 6 months, so no. Yeah, yeah… “

“You know,” The chemist pipes up from behind the Pharmacy desk as you put back some pill boxes he said were fine to return to the shelves, and you glance over at him to show you’re listening, and check his name tag. “I myself considered a career in modelling, before this. People even say, now, that I could model.”

Oh boy. You think, fighting not roll your eyes. And how old are you? Early 30’s? I don’t think so buddy.

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t recommend it.” You flash him a nervous grin before returning to your shelving. “You’re good for, like, 3 years. But then you hit 22 and unless you look like Victoria Justice shared with you whatever youth fountain she got chucked into, then you have to find something else to do with your life- despite having nothing to fall back on.” Okay… so… I might be a bit bitter.

Tate chuckles - and oh boy, he sounds just like your old manager. Totally fake, -, hiding his hands in his lab coat pockets. “Yeah, you’re probably right… Besides, I got the better end of the deal, anyway. Doctor for the doctors, they call us.” They call Pharmacists that? Who? That’s news to you. “Ahhh, yeah… I’m doing pretty well for myself.”

“Yep.” Forcing a fake smile his way, you leave the shelf you were stocking and get closer to the desk to stock another, as Tate’s eyes follow you waiting for encouragement of some kind. Doesn’t he have a job to do?? “You chose well!”

“Yeah, thanks. I know.” Ffffff-f a r out. This guy! “You know, you and me, we’d make a good couple.”

Oh? Dear god? You pause your shelving in surprise at the bomb this man has just dropped so casually, fish oil tablets paused on their journey to the shelf mid-air. Could Garret’s crazy-pants theory have been right?

“Ohh,” You giggle nervously, returning to work a bit faster now. “I don’t know. I think for a pharmacist like you, I would envision, like… “An actual doctor? No, I can’t say that. “A personal trainer, or something. Keep you both healthy all-round, you know? Now that’s a power team.” As long as that personal trainer has humility enough for the both of them, at least.

“Mergh,” He makes a face, like ‘What the heck are you talking about??’, before shaking his head of the things you just said and leaning over the desk towards you. You keep packing, even faster now. Like the Flash. Go! Go! Go! Death Con 5!! “So, whadaya say? I could pick you up Friday after work, and we could head up to one of my timeshares?” He says that like it’s such a selling point! You think, fighting off the powerful urge to laugh but still feeling the panic deep in the pits of your soul. “Stake it out together for the weekend? Get to know each other?”

“Uhh… “Excuses! What are they? You slowly stop stocking, turning around to face him and crossing your arms. The man deserves to at least be faced as he’s rejected; You’re kind enough to give him that, at least. “I’d love to! But, the thing is… “Chewing your bottom lip, you think hard.

Ding Ding Ding!!

“The thing is, Tate… “You fake some nerves, now. “I’m actually, uh… “You look up, face relaxing. “Pregnant.”

Oh boy, the way that man recoils at that word, like a terrified, disgruntled, blonde hedgehog. You’re going to laugh so hard about it, later!! “Oh.”

“Yeah! Oh, I mean, yeah… I’m gonna be having a baby, in like, 6 months so… yeah… Yep.“ You shrug to him, as if its just so unfortunate. “Shame.”

~

She looks in her bag, takes out a fag, tries to get away from the guy on a blag,

Can’t find a light.

‘’Here, use mine.’’

‘’See the thing is I just don’t have the time.’’

Ahh, lunch. Now you can check your texts! Hmm, you look through your notifications and gradually lose excitement. Mum… mum… mum… phone bill company… friend… mum again…

Ah, the glamorous life of the famous.

You roll your eyes, and get to responding to your mothers texts about dinner and when you’ll be home and how your first day is going, not noticing the not-so-jolly, not-so-green-(unless-you-meant-pot) giant approaching you. When you finally finish responding to both your mum and your friend, you put your phone away and start unwrapping your lunch- a typical ham sandwich that you’re actually pretty excited about. That’s one good thing about your sudden drop in financial status; You can put in your damn sandwich as many pieces of ham and cheese as you like. Grinning excitedly, you pick it up and have it halfway to your mouth before another person - a very heavy, large person, - drops down beside you on the bench you’ve commandeered behind the store. You close your mouth without any delicious lunch inside it and look up, politely to the person who’s joined you.

And all you can think, is wow.

He could put you in a suitcase and walk off with you right now and have no problems.

That’s wow.

“Hi! I’m Y/N,” You introduce yourself, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I know.” Oh, well yeah okay that’s understandable. Glenn did introduce you to everyone this morning. Despite the man’s less-then-excited response, he takes your hand in his and shakes. It makes you all giddy inside, honestly. So b i g. “Names Isaac.”

Do you remember Isaac in the breakroom this morning? You wrack your brain for him, because surely if he was there you noticed him-

Oh. Yep, you remember him. He was one of that Marcus-Dude’s pals chuckling and whispering behind him. He was one of the men that had the magazine with you on the front, and if there’s one thing you know about men who carry Vogue in their locker’s it’s that they fit into only 2 groups- interested in fashion, obviously… and interested in the women. And this man clearly is not interested in fashion. Immediately, on this realisation, you feel disappointed- you really could have liked this man right off the bat…

But it looks like he’s just going to be another of the men at this store you have to get to know, before becoming friendly with.

“So,” He starts, and you fight off a wince. Hopefully, you don’t know what’s coming. But… the likeliness of that is not high. “You wanna go out, some time? I’m a big fan of your work.” He smirks.

“Oh, ha ha.” You laugh sarcastically, shaking your head and returning to your sandwich. You take a bite and- Ahhhhhh, so worth the wait. Oh my god. Food orgasm. “At least you’re honest!”

“Yeah, so is that a yes?” His face brightens a smidgeon, which is a lot seeing as he doesn’t seem to be totally all there, in the first place.

You look up at Isaac, and look apologetic. He was honest with you so its only fair that you’re genuine with him. “Sorry… “

“Ah- actually, I don’t know if this’ll change your mind, but I have 2 weeks to live, so… “

Never mind on that honesty thing, then.

Dull-eyed, you stare up at him. “… Uh-huh.”

“Its true! I have, uh, cancer.” He insists, nodding his head and forcing his eyebrows up his forehead all serious-like.

“Cancer.” Right.

“Yep.”

Right, time to look in the bag... You start to wrap up your lunch again - sadly, as now you’ll have to wait until the end of the day and the bus ride home to eat it, - and plop it back away in your bag, getting up and pulling out a cigarette instead- that should hold you over until the end of the day. “My lunch break is actually over, so I should go- Damn, where’s my light?“

Isaac rifles through his pockets until he pulls out an old looking neon orange lighter, and offers it to you. “Here, use mine.”

Oh, no. You stare at it like a deer in headlights. If you accept that, like you really want to right now because it’s been a month since your last smoke, then you have obligations to sit with him for another couple minutes, at least.

Aghh… You groan and whine on the inside, before making up your mind and flinging the cigarette into a puddle. “See the thing is, I don’t actually have the time-”

~

“Go away now, let me go.”

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

“Ughhh… “This one has been giving you looks all day, but had no courage until now to speak to you- but the thing is? He didn’t have the smarts, either, to take off his wedding ring at least before he decided to be a bastard and bother you. So you feel absolutely no regret about being exactly as dismissive or plain rude, as you feel. “Elias? Go away now.”

The nervous man, who’s been ringing his hands this whole time and stuttering through failed date requests that you pretended you didn’t understand because of his struggle, gets panicked. “Just let me ask!- Will, will you go out with me?”

“No.” You yawn, dropping a piglet toy into a basket.

“But!- “

Turning away, you start pushing your trolley along to get to the next aisle. “Let me go.”

“We can go wherever you like!”

Sighhhhhhhhh. You turn around and grant him an audience, putting your hands on your hips and raising you brows at the wedding band on his left hand.

“Are you stupid? Or just a little slow?”

~

“Please fuck off.”

Oh good god in heaven, they’re going bigger with their proposals.

“Y/N! Will you go out with me?”

This man, Corey, has grabbed the announcement phone now that you’re walking away, making you freeze like the dad possum in Over The hedge and seriously consider playing dead, too, as you slowly turn around to look at him again.

Oh, if only looks could kill- he would be so dead that even Vlad the Impaler’s victims would laugh.

This is your first day, and the fact that you’re being harassed by multiple stupid men is bad enough but now he’s calling attention to you like this? Glenn’s going to think you’re a troublemaker!! Jesus fucking Christ- you need this job! Corey continues to talk into the speaker phone, even as he looks into your eyes and sees his death.  “And… now… you’re looking at me like that, so uh… I’m just gonna… say please?”

… “’Please’ fuck off.”

“Yes ma’am-“  

~

“Go away now, I’ve made myself clear.

I don’t think so.

Nah its not gonna happen.

Not in a million years.”

Since the run-in with Corey and the following spike in your blood pressure, you’ve calmed down again. But now you’re looking into the two faces of a ‘Mateo’, who you apparently work with, and a ‘Castor’ who does not work here and is not shopping but is still in your face and is t h i s close to feeding that ugly tie to his cousin.

But, still, you’re going to stay graceful, because Castor constantly looks like he’s 3 seconds from pooing himself. “Now please go away, now… I think I’ve made myself clear.” By explaining, politely, that you aren’t looking for a man but thank you for the offer, Castor.

“Oh, but you haven’t heard what Castor does for a living! He’s in insurance,” Mateo explains to you, like this is some huge game changer. When you don’t react, he adds that there’s good money, insurance.

You almost laugh. Does this boy really think you’re such a gold digger? Boy- if I wanted riches then I could’ve easily become a C-Class actor who has no skills in the area, but is pretty so gets praised like she does- like a lotta my model friends.

Instead I’m here, at Cloud 9.

Come to your own conclusions.

But instead of saying that, though, you just shake your head nervously. “I don’t think so… “

“But!- “

“Nah… sorry, its… not gonna happen… “

“But Castor is- “

“Not in a million years… “

~

“Aw, no. I gotta go. My house is on fire.”

Now, at least this one is respectful, you think, listening to him talk about the products you’re shelving together. He had come over and offered to give you a hand when you looked confused, as a ‘Cheyanne’ had handed you a scanner earlier and then promptly ran off, despite your utter incompetence. You were so relieved that this guy turned up!!

“… so, you just punch in reduce .50, and scan! Its pretty easy, if you have it properly explained to you. I- I was actually in the same situation, as you! When I first started here, except I ended up, uh, reducing all the items in electronics to 15 cense rather than discounting it all 15 percent.” A grin spreads across your lips at the story, and thank god that Jonah had turned up before that happened to you and, with your luck, you got fired for it.

“Oh no!”

“Yeah- Amy, our uh, floor supervisor, was pretty cranky with me about that… “He laughs himself, resting his hands on his hips; Still looking nervous at the memory.

You look back down at the scanner you’re holding and shake your head. “Well at least you know, now! And thank you so much for coming to my aid, haha. I was so lost- you’ve been a huge help! A life saver, truly.”

“Yeah… “ He gives a cute little, reserved smile. “So, uh, its basically the end of the day! Hope you’re first day hasn’t been too strenuous. At the end of my first day, I know I was tired. But I got to go out with a couple of the other employees and have a drink, to destress. If-If you were free, we could… do something. Together.” Your eyebrows slowly raise up your forehead at that, and you turn to look up Jonah, sceptical. What was that? You sure have had a long day, and its about to get a lot longer if this boy is asking what you think he is. “Sorry! Sorry, that sounded weird. Um, I guess what I’m really asking, is… would you like to, I dunno, go out with me sometime? I know some great places.”

Oh, noooooo! You cry, on the inside. You thought you found a normal one!

Still, he is being so nice… The least you could do is let him down easily.

“Oh, Jonah, I actually… oh- sorry.” Your phone beeps in your pocket and you take it out quickly to have a glance - its just your mother… again, - … and suddenly get an idea. Feigning shock, you quickly put the phone away and put down the scanner. It’s time to clock out and go home, anyway, thank god. “I have to go! That was my mum, uh- I really have to go!”

“Wow, wow, wow, what’s wrong?? Can I help with anything?”

Oh… he looks so concerned. He’s sweet.

But before you can rethink your words, this living horror slips out. “My-my house is on fire.”

Oh god, you’re a horrible person.

~

“I’ve, I’ve got herpes. No- Syphilis!”

Oh thank god the day is over. Rolling your shoulders back, you kneel down at your bottom locker, open it up and take out your bag. Now you can go home and put on Gotham on Netflix, wear no pants and eat thin mints until you fall asleep.

When you get up, you aren’t watching out for a man to be standing barely half a foot away from you - Your mistake, obviously, - so you jolt right out of your skin when you see him and curse. What is wrong with these men? Does Cloud 9 offer complimentary staff ninja classes along with their lack of health insurance? Man, classy company. “Sorry!” You look up past the coveralls after stepping a safe distance back from him, and immediately feel dread deep in your chest. “Oh, hi. Marcus, was it?”

“That’s me! How was your first day?” He asks, seeming polite enough despite the fact that you’re cornered between tall boy and the lockers. And you’re too tired to try and slip away- this boy will get out of your way.

“It was good! Thanks for asking. I’m ready to go home and collapse, though.” You admit, shoulders dropping and a tired smile on your lips. Mmm… thin mints… bed… blankets… Cory Michael Smith… I can taste it… Marcus just needs to get out of my way.

“I hear that.” Evidently not quite as deeply, though, as he moves on pretty fast. “Listen- I was thinking if you’re into it we could… go out, some time.” He tilts his head forward to clarify, “On a date,”, in case that part hadn’t translated, and chuckles. “We could see a movie or get drinks, or something, I don’t know. How about tonight?”

T-tonight? The word nearly slips from your lips; All disbelief and tears and exhaustion, included. You’re so tired. “Um… you know, tempting offer, but um… “He looks so hopeful. It nearly changes your mind. “Not tonight.”

“OH! So like, tomorrow?” Oh christ- “Cuz I’m supposed to watch Celebrity Get Me Out Of Here with my mum, but… no, I can blow that off! So, tomorrow?”

You take a deep breath, not really knowing what you can say. “Marcus… “He raises his eyebrows, waiting for an answer. “… I have herpes.”

“Wait, what??” He steps back, nearly tripping over a table in his fear that just being near you will cause him to contract the disease, and you let your guard down in relief. Yep, for sure, definitely. If it makes him back off, then yes- you have herpes. You have a raging, festering case of herpes.

“Yeah! Or-“ Squinting, you pretend to sift through your brain. “Was it Syphilis?” This boys eyes basically bulge out of his head and you’re totally going to laugh about it later, but right now you have to get out of there. You waive your hand dismissively and walk on by him towards the door like you don’t have a care in the world. Before you leave though, you turn around a flash Marcus a big smile. “Either way, ew, right? Well, see you tomorrow buddy! Gotta go! Enjoy I’m A Celebrity with your mum.” Then you’re gone.

Tomorrow is going to be a much better day, once that rumour is properly spread.

[writefightandflightclub]

We’d better run (Santi x GN reader)

Author’s note: There’s not a lot to it. Just a quick little Santi blurb, with a cosy NYE trope - that man needs someone to kiss at midnight. Bonus trope of meddling friends. 😀

Rating: 18+ to be safe. It’s mature but not explicit. (Steam but no smut.)

Warnings: alcohol consumption + tipsy squad. Making-out. Swearing.

GIF: by @ithinkwehitametaphor​

Song inspo: Kiss U Right Now (thanks @wowjeena for sending this in an ask- hope it’s ok to tag you!)

The atmosphere was jubilant, and your squad was equally so. This crummy dive bar felt like heaven, even as the aroma of bad beer spiked in your nostrils, and as you danced with your soles sticking to the claggy floor.

You all drew some stares - amidst the other people on the dance floor dressed in their best party ensembles, you had crashed in wearing a baseball cap and a ratty old band t-shirt, four burly men in tow. A series of juvenile whoops (and even a howl from Benny) had announced your arrival as you crashed through the double doors.

“Run! We’d better run!” you had called earlier.

With only a matter of minutes remaining until midnight, you had inspired the boys to sprint several blocks from Frankie’s place. You had refused - at the last minute- to stay in on NYE, and had insisted you wanted to dance. Really dance, without worrying about smashing the TV in Frankie’s cramped living room as your arms flailed. Santi had backed you up, insisting he wanted to leave too, to find someone to kiss at midnight. So, you had all legged it -pausing only momentarily for Frankie to dry heave over a wall- and you had arrived with breaths still sawing in and out of your lungs, sweat sheening your faces as you all eagerly swarmed the dance floor.

Just like on the battlefield, collectively, you were a force, the whole throng noticeably shrinking back from your energy, and being pushed imperceptibly to the margins of the floor to make room for you, as if your happiness was so big it crowded everything else out besides those in your bubble.

Even in your tipsy state, you clocked the sudden interest in your group as the newest arrivals to the bar, patrons’ eyes roving over your figures in gratitude for some fresh prey this evening. You had no doubt Santi wasn’t the only one in search of a kiss at midnight - there appeared to be plenty of people on the prowl, in fact. You noticed a few women settle their gaze on Santi in particular as he bust his over-the-top moves, replete with plenty of thrusting and hip wiggling. His knees would hurt tomorrow, but that ass doesn’t quit.

What can you say? He knows his assets, and he knows how to work them.

Even so, as they eye him, you cannot find it in you to be jealous, and it doesn’t occur to you to try to covet the attentions of your long-time crush. Instead, laughter freely spills out of you as the boys spin you between each of them, chaotically ricocheting you across the dance floor, and before long you can barely even dance from laughing.

In the midst of it all you have a mushy moment, surveying the faces of your friends -your best friends- all of your eyes creased and hearts smoothed with happiness. You laugh even as Frankie doubles over from exertion, and especially as Benny strips his t-shirt off, circling it above his head to welcome screams from the crowd, acting like some ostentatious small town rock star. Will is sober as all hell but still getting into it, and making sure to video the whole thing on his cell; no doubt so he can make you all cringe as you massage your sore temples in the morning and he looks on - fresh as a daisy.

Your eyes fall to Santi next, gaze locking with his for the briefest of moments, and this is happy too, watching your friend boogie... except, the happiness you feel when your eyes land on him hits different. Hits deeper. Santi always hits different, even if you’re too stubborn and too afraid to admit it.

You pick up where you had left off with him over at Frankie’s, after the pilot had predictably started busting out the Fleetwood Mac tunes. You and Santi try desperately to outdo each other’s moves, each taking it a notch higher and becoming more and more ridiculous, until you barely recognise the movements your body is making. You reckon you are making history, and dancing moves previously undocumented on Earth.

As you move, you are being crushed closer and closer together by the throng which gradually encloses around you once more. In this tighter space, your hands fleetingly find each other’s bodies. Your hands fall on his shoulders to steady yourself when the crowd jostles you. His hand finds yours to twirl you, or your hands settle on his chest or at his waist. You care not that he is clammy with sweat beneath his t-shirt, noting only that he feels warm and sturdy under your touch. Still, you are careful not to linger, and you quickly snap your touch away, as comfortable as it feels to be in contact with him. As right as it feels.

The whole bar seems to buzz around the two of you, causing you to brim over with a warm, fuzzy feeling which you feel from your core to the tips of your fingers. It is the sense of memories being forged, you think - of a night to remember in the making.

You continue to ricochet chaotically around the dance floor with your buddies, as you are torn from one dance to the next, the loud and jubilant rock music pounding through your chest from the speakers, and collectively you seem to gravitate towards it as it pulses you deeper and deeper into the throng.

You are hot, you are sweating -your t-shirt clinging to your torso now- and your legs ache. Your throat stings from belting out the lyrics, but you are desperately and furiously happy.

In moments, more shots are passed around by Frankie, and you clink glasses, half of the amber liquid spilling on to your top as someone dances into you, and the other half burning pleasantly down your centre. Santi’s eyes snag on yours again for another fleeting moment, and you could swear his gaze burns pleasantly down to your centre too.

“30 seconds!” the bar back shouts via the PA system, and a cheer erupts all through the room, a multitude of hands being propelled into the air at once, as if the crowd is one heaving entity, and you all jump and yell and sing until you feel like you can’t anymore, but you do anyway.

“Kiss me!” Santi yells, his eyebrows raised, and his stance wide, his arms raised up until his body creates an “x” shape. “Some fucker had better kiss me when the ball drops,” he announces, loud enough to be heard over the music.

“Pope - your balls should have dropped already, man,” Will laughs, and then you are laughing with him, slapping him on the shoulder and creasing forward in mirth, your face and cheeks and jaw already aching with joy.

“Ten!”

You gasp as the word erupts through the bar, the countdown commencing, and you throw your arms up again, screaming out in excitement.

“Somebody fuckin’ kiss me!” Santi yells, louder this time, more urgently, looking around the room, and you catch a series of micro-expressions unfold, as if in slow motion. You notice the group of women by the bar teeter on the edge of responding to his call- a curl of lips, a tick of an eyebrow, a half-hungry stare and red-lipsticked mouth sucking on a straw. You see Benny, too, about to give Santi more then he bargained for if he doesn’t shut up.

Meanwhile, you simply keep dancing.

“Five!” the voice calls, over the blasting music.

Still, you keep dancing, as if it’s essential. As if the motion itself will propel you into the new year.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Frankie is spinning you and thrusting you directly into Santi’s arms. You fall forwards, thrown off balance, grabbing on to his shoulders to regain your footing, and his hands fly around your waist to steady you, his smile wide and disarming. You dip your head to laugh into his shoulder, still singing along to the song.

“One! Happy new year!”

And, as rousing cheers sound out all around you, suddenly it is Santi crowding everything else out. He grins and grabs your face in his hands, pulling your lips to his for an innocent and celebratory smack on the lips, knocking both the caps from your heads simultaneously. They lie discarded on the floor, soon trampled out of sight; forgotten as Santi plants his kiss. His stubble is alarmingly rough against you, his lips still tainted with the taste of tequila and tang of salt and lime. He’s warm. He’s so warm.He feels so... right.

Suddenly, for the first time in hours, you are no longer laughing. Suddenly, everything no longer seems quite as funny. All of the buzz and the motion and the noise seems to halt around you. There is only Santi. There are only his surprised brown eyes meeting yours, his fingers coming up to his lips as if to understand the sensation he just experienced zip through him, more intense than the burn of tequila, thrumming through him more urgently than the pulse of the music. A happiness deeper than all of the revelry surrounding him.

You note the way your fingers have gradually fisted into his damp t-shirt, as if to pull him closer. You note the way you can’t tear your gaze away from his lips. The way your blood rushes in your ears.

You are torn away from each other quickly, however, snatching you from this intimate, all-encompassing circle and back into the room, Will rushes in to lift Santi by the waist and spin him around, Benny dives in to offer to you an enclosing, shirtless, back-slapping hug which you’re sure rattles your bones. You are even caught up by strangers who embrace you in glee and hope. The atmosphere is electric, and still, it is nothing like the jolt which hit you when Santi’s lips met yours.

Next, your arms find Frankie’s in the crowd and you tug him to you, squeezing him in a heartfelt, urgent hug, grins splitting your faces in two.

The rounds done, and a sudden wave of adrenaline pulling you from your kiss-drunk stupor, you yell a victorious “Happy new year, mother fuckers!”, completely oblivious to Santi’s plight.

That is, until you follow Frankie’s nod and see Santi standing there in the crowd, entirely still as the world blurs around him. He appears entirely fixated on you.

You can’t explain why those familiar eyes of his suddenly give you jitters quite like this, your legs turning to jelly beneath you where previously you were convinced you could have danced until dawn.

So, this time, when Frankie encouragingly pushes you into Santi with soft eyes and a knowing curl of his lips, it hits a little different. You fall into him, clinging on to his shoulders for dear life. His eyes search yours.

“Kiss me,” Santi says earnestly, and this time he is not yelling the words, or urgently seeking some hasty gratification before midnight. He is taking his time with them, these words well-considered and purposeful on his lips. He is not yelling; however, somehow the words seem ten times louder than they did before.

“The ball already dropped, Santi,” you say, voice trembling, just like your legs.

“Damn right. The ball has finally dropped,” Frankie snickers from beside you, referencing the sudden awakening of your feelings, or Santi’s, or both of yours, perhaps. But you both ignore Frankie. There is no-one else in the world right now. Everything else in this crummy dive bar fades to black. So, instead, Santi pulls you closer, your warm bodies chest-to-chest, and his broad, firm hands snaking up and up and up to find your hair.

“Yeah. I know,” he says gently yet smugly, his eyes fixed on your mouth, his pink tongue darting out as if to tempt you. “Kiss me again.”

You gulp, feeling weaker by the moment. “Right here, in front of everybody?”

The corner of Santi’s tempting mouth turns up into a smile, his eyes brewing with a ferocious heat.

“Let them watch,” he purrs sinfully, and a whimper falls from your lips, Santi’s strong hands the only thing keeping you upright -you could swear- as they wrap at your back and clasp you close to him.

At his suggestion, you practically fall on to his lips as if it was pre-destined, and his tongue is plundering your mouth instantly, the taste of him searing all the way down to the pit of you like a shot of fire. He is a potent spirit - the taste of tequila on his tongue as he delves into you, the tang of sweat on his lips like salt, and the bitter rasp of his stubble against your mouth and cheek as you open up to devour him, and willingly have him devour you.

Your sweaty, eager bodies press firmly together, and you fingers travel up; up and up from his shoulders... over the scar at the nape of his neck, over the bobbled chain he wears, over his prickled undercut and into his dark, grizzled curls.

Santi arches his body even more keenly against you, crushing you to him, letting you feel every contour of him. That muscled thigh settled in between yours and his hips thrust towards you, a burgeoning promise pressing up against your core. His shapely chest and the softness of his stomach meeting yours. It feels so good to touch like this, and you desperately hope this touch will not be so fleeting as the last.

As if fearing the same, Santi’s kiss grows, heavy and urgent. Dog tags are crushed up in the space between you too, and the heat of his broad hands press at your back and your neck, the bite of his watch strap cooling on your hot skin as he kisses you like that, right here in front of everybody.

You can’t get enough of him. You want to drink every drop of him down.He’s rough and hot and yet smooth like caramel.

Eagerly, your hands claw into his hair and you instinctively give a gentle tug on his curls. When Santi delivers a gruff, delicious moan into your open mouth in return, he sends a liquid heat all the way down to your core, more potent than the burn of any spirit.

You are drunk on him.

He tastes good.

He feels good.

He tastes good enough, hot enough, satisfying enough that you whimper as he pulls away from you, the both of you panting, foreheads briefly resting against one another as your chests and breaths heave in the tight space between you. And yet, you are still pawing at each other, still unable to satiate yourselves. Needing more.

“Happy new year,” he exhales, with a gentle smirk, and yet words will not come to you yet.

Not until your next thought occurs to you.

“Mmm-hmm. Which of these motherfuckers lives the closest?” you ask urgently, with a sideward nod of your head towards the slack-jawed squad beside you.

Santi’s eyebrow ticks up at you with interest. “Why, you wanna..?”

“Yes,” you state breathily, your voice a husk, pleased he is instantly catching your drift.

“Benny! Keys! Now!” Santi yells urgently, as keen as you are to enact your vision, and his tone is commanding enough that Benny obeys instantly.

Santi palms the keys as they’re thrown and his hand trails down your arm like a lick of flame, coming to clasp your hand firmly in his.

“Wanna get out of here, honey?” he asks, and you smile. You smile until your face aches. You are desperately and furiously happy, and there is nowhere else you would rather go.

In fact, you are very keen to start the new year as you mean to go on. With Santi buried deep in you. His hot, bare, sturdy body entwined with yours - wrapped around you. Kissing you, his tongue surging into you. Loving you, you hope.

“Get out of here, Pope?” you ask with a wink, and he looks at you as if you’re the most stunning sight he’s ever seen, even as your old shirt clings to the contours of you, dampened with sweat. “I think we’d better run, love.”

Then, you each look at the other with a happy, hungry stare, before turning on your heels and legging it out of there, leaving everything else in your wake.

Your happiness crowds everything else out.

Santi crowds everything else out.

Everything else in the crummy dive bar fades to black.

The other boys watch you go, Frankie all-together pleased with his meddling, and happy for his two dear friends. Meanwhile, the repurcussions of Benny’s actions in handing over his keys are just about dawning on him.

“They’re gonna fuck all over my house, aren’t they?”

“Yep,” Frankie responds, slapping him on the back and delivering a throaty, unsympathetic chuckle.

“Maybe you’d better find somewhere else to stay, brother.” Will winks, and Benny shrugs, a confident, undaunted smile inching over his face. In fact, he responds with Santi’s tactic, edging out into the centre of the floor, strutting like the prize fighter he is, and yelling “Somebody kiss me!”

Will and Frankie stand on the sidelines, sharing a gruff chuckle as they watch all of this unfold, until Will nods towards the doorway, where you and Santi exited moments ago. “Do you think they’ll regret that tomorrow?” he worries, his brow furrowing as a less than stable Frankie leans up against his side.

Frankie’s lips curl-up into a smile, and he shakes his head. “Honestly, I only think they’ll regret not doing it sooner.”

You and Santi would probably agree with that sentiment too.

Wholeheartedly, in fact.

Happy new year, motherfuckers.

As for what happened after you left the bar, let’s just say... you definitely started as you mean to go on.

And Santi can go on and on... and then some.

[vldkeith]

Blackbirds

submitted by our beloved klance day!

The mission wasn’t supposed to take this long, let alone be this dangerous. It’ll be a quick two hour tops mission, Lance. You won’t have to be with Keith for that long, Lance recalls Pidge groaning. He remembers it all so clearly. All the paladins, Allura, and Coran standing in the Catsleship’s bridge, planning their next mission to gather intel on newer planets and species that may have evolved in the past 10,000 years. The group had decided that, because of the agility of the Red and Blue Lions, it would be Keith and Lance who would get to go to the not at at all dangerous icy-rocky planet of Piyak. Not at all dangerous, huh? “You still there, Keith?” Lance huffs into the intercom. “Okay dude, just stay where you’re at. Don’t move. You’re already hurt enough.” In a raspy reply, he gets the “Copy that,” from Keith.

Lance wishes he was next to Keith. Not just because he likes him, but because that would mean the mission would be going ok. Heck, they might have been on their way back by now. But it was wasn’t like that. Far from it, in fact. It all started when they were landing. Coran explained many things about Piyak’s atmosphere and surface, but it’s extremely high winds were not one of them. As soon as the Lions entered the atmosphere, they got separated. Going every which way, they had both crashed a good distance away from each other. Blue had managed to crash a bit more gracefully, but Red can’t say the same. Based on Keith’s intermittent descriptions, his lion was pretty banged up, and so was he. Like, really bad. Lance could only imagine what he must be looking like right now. He pushes the thought away and continues trekking through the terrain with the help of his jetpack. Piyak was a fairly mountainous planet, but the peaks were not steep, and ice filled the cracks of rocks and boulders. It was foggy and cloudy, which obscured his vision a little, but it wasn’t anything Lance’s helmet system couldn’t handle. So far, they hadn’t come across any significant life, and Lance hopes it will stay that way. “Lance-!” Keith suddenly shouts through the intercom. “Where are you?” “I’m here, buddy. I’m going as fast as I can. Remember, I had to first tell the team that we were stranded, and that took a bit of time. I’ve already triangulated your position,” he replies. If only he could run faster. “O-okay. I’m outside of Red now. I found a little cave and I just- ow! There’s this huge gash going down my side and it hurts. Lance, it’s getting bad-” “Woah, okay, Keith! Slow down. It’s gonna be okay. I’m almost there. Deep breaths.” A pause occurs and Lance knew it was Keith just eye-rolling at him. What was “deep breathes” gonna do? Well, Lance didn’t have a better consolation, so it would have to work for the time being. He hears a sigh and then “Copy.” —————– It wasn’t too long after before Lance spots a giant red robot cat who’s size and color contrasts it’s background. Lance basically sprints towards Red and tries to find the cave Keith was talking about. He takes a good look at the lion and understands what Keith meant by “practically dead”. She was collapsed on the ground, and many large and small scratches lined her. Coran and Hunk should probably be able to fix her. Maybe. Lance managed to enter inside, just incase there might be any useful supplies for him and Keith. Finally, he left with some bandages and an artifical lighter that could simulate the heat and look of a real fire. Lance then promptly departed from the damaged robot in search of the boy. He saw a rocky grotto nearby and started heading in that direction. Thankfully, it was the right ‘little cave’ and Lance spotted Keith almost immediately. “Keith! I’m here, Keith!” Lance crazily waves his arms up and down to capture his teammates attention. Keith finally looks up and lifts his arm a little in acknowledgement. He drifts towards the boy and sparks the fire. After it looked big enough, Lance positions himself next to Keith. Keith’s descriptions of his injuries were severely underestimated. Not only did he have a scary large wound going through his right hip, but he have several noticeable cuts and wounds all over his face and body. Keith was breathing more heavily than normal, and it looked hard for him to even keep his eyes open. Honestly, it looked like he wouldn’t make it. Lance decided that was enough thinking for now. “So, how are we holding up, Keithers?” He asks as he tries his best to wrap the bandages around Keith’s biggest wounds. “Well, you already see all my injuries and I feel dizzy, heh. I’ve been better,” he coughs. “Um, I checked the air quality. We can take our helmets off,” he points to his helmet on the ground. Lance removes his helmet, but keeps it close to him. Once he did all he could with the bandages, Lance slides to Keith’s left. Keith leans on his shoulder. “Hey, I need you to stay awake for me, okay? We have to wait for the team to get here, which shouldn’t take too long, but we never know, right?” Keith mumbles affirmatively in response. “I might die here,” he blurts out suddenly. “Don’t say that.” “But, Lance! Listen-” -CRACK hiss! Keith was interrupted by.. something. From the volume of the sound, whatever creature made it must have been large. Both of them snapped silent, eyes wide, and they shared the same horrified glance. “Stay quiet,” Lance whispers. He gets up slowly and tentatively steps towards where the noise came from. Carefully, he pulls out his bayard and the object flickers open to reveal his energy rifle. Lance pulls the weapon up to eye level and waits…. “LANCE!” He quickly turns around to see a giant, black, slim monster in front of Keith. It was definitely not friendly. It’s tongue was flicking in and out, dripping what was presumably poisonous venom. The giant bug looked ready to pounce on Keith any second. Lance starts shooting. Blam! Blam! Blam! The monster falls to the ground next to Keith, barely moving. Lance pushes it away and returns to his spot with Keith. “Well, looks like we found our ‘new and evolved’ species,” Lance sighs. “Are you okay?” Keith nods slowly, now breathing even more heavily. He squishes himself up to Lance, and Lance wraps his arm around him. “Let’s talk about something different,” Lance says. He just needs Keith to stay awake a little while longer, so keeping him talking would be the best way to go about it. ————— The two paladins converse about many things ranging from favorite candy, the garrison days, and even a few childhood memories. The fire had died down by a lot, but the lighter only works once, so the two had to resort to just body heat. Lance assumes about 50 or so minutes had passed, but there was still no signs of the Castleship or his other teammates. He had also noticed that Keith was providing a lot less to the conversation as time passed, which was worrying. “Hey, you still with me?” Lance whispers. Keith only hums in response. “You need to stay awake for a little bit longer.” “I know,” Keith mumbles. “It’s cold. My cut hurts a lot. Are you sure I can’t sleep?” Okay, Keith was really out of it. Lance tried to think of something that would at least give Keith a startle without hurting him. There was only one option he could think of. Maybe the fog of the planet was really getting to him, or maybe it was out of real desire, but Lance closed his eyes and slowly leaned over to Keith’s face, giving ample time for the other boy to push away. However, Keith didn’t do anything, and they kissed. On the lips. It was a quick kiss; not special at all. The action was enough, however, to make Keith yelp with a start. “What was that for?” Keith’s eyes were wide, but his voice was still quiet. Lance’s face flushed a bright red, and he hoped Keith couldn’t tell. Searching for the right words he replies, “I- I just needed you to wake up a little. I’m sorry. Did it help?” “I’m up now, I guess,” Keith looks away. Several silent but seemingly long minutes pass. Lance decides this needed to come to an end, otherwise Keith may be prone to close his eyes. “You know that song ‘Blackbird’? By Paul McCartney and John Lennon,” Lance asks. Maybe Keith would stay awake if had to actively sing something. “Yeah. Pretty sure I memorized it back in highschool.” “Sing it with me?” “Ok.” The two start singing. It wasn’t a perfect harmony, but it didn’t need to be that way. As long as Lance heard Keith’s voice along with his, things would be okay. “Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise” “Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these sunken eyes and learn to see All your life You were only waiting for this moment to be free” “Blackbird fly, blackbird fly Into the light of a dark black night” “Blackbird fly, blackbird fly Into the light of a dark black night” “Blackbird singing in the dead of night Take these broken wings and learn to fly All your life You were only waiting for this moment to arise You were only waiting for this moment to arise..” “You were only waiting for this moment to arise,” Lance starts. He pauses and waits for Keith to say the last line with him like they were supposed to. “You were only waiting for this moment to arise,” he repeats again. Lance looks over to his side. No. No. No. No. No no no. This can’t be happening. There Keith was, eyes closed and barely breathing. Panic filled Lance. He shook Keith almost violently in to get his attention again. “Hey, Keith! Wake up, WAKE UP! KEITH PLEASE, IF YOU CAN HEAR MY VOICE, SAY SOMETHING!” Hot tears started to form and roll down Lance’s face as he attempts to wake the almost lifeless boy in arms. Keith can’t die. Not here. Not now. Lance kisses Keith again and again on his forehead, left cheek, right cheek, but nothing was working. “Wake.” Kiss. “Up.” Kiss. “Please.” Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Kiss. Lance buries his face in Keith’s hair and cries. He whispers. “Please, wake up, man. I still need you.” ———- Just then, a bright, teal glow enveloped the shallow cave. Lance jerks his head around quickly and practically laughs he’s so happy. “LANCE!” “PIDGE! SHIRO! Oh thank God you’re here oh ok just take him. Slowly! Keith’s alive but that’s just about it,” Lance yells too quickly. Shiro heaves Keith up and races towards his lion. Pidge stays back to inspect the large dead monster-bug. After taking a few pictures and typing a couple things down, she drifts towards Lance. “Hey, are you ok? Any injuries?” She prompts, ready to take action. “No, I’m fine. Just a couple bruises,” Lance replies absent mindedly. He looks back to the mouth of the cave where Shiro carried Keith out. “It looks like you’ve been crying,” Pidge starts. “Is that about Keith?” “I- yeah. It is. Things got really bad, and they still are, and I don’t even know if he’s gonna be okay. Like, I know I shouldn’t be worrying; he’s in good hands now, but,” Lance pauses. He chooses his next words carefully. “He just means a lot to me, y'know?” “You mean your major crush on him?” The girl swiftly adds on. Lance turns red. “Hey! Wait, you knew about that? Am I that obvious?” “Well…” “Fine okay, maybe I do feel that way, but really, I do care about Keith so much; as a friend or otherwise.” Lance crosses his arms and looks down. He might never even get to tell Keith that. Pidge places her hand on his shoulder, “I know you do.” And just like that they’re hugging. It reminds Lance a lot of when his younger siblings used to hug him. He was taller than them, so the hug was sometimes awkward, but it still felt good. Lance squeezes Pidge tight. ————– ————– It’s been almost two weeks since the whole Piyak fiasco, and Keith was still in the cryopod. Currently, Lance is in the kitchen, trying to get the food goo ejector to, like, eject the food goo, but like always, it’s stuck again. Lance wasn’t even sure if he wanted to eat anything. He hadn’t really been that hungry lately. “He’ll be fine, son,” Coran had told him. “Keith has gone through a lot, and we can’t for sure say when he will come back out, but I’m confident in our healing technologies.” “He’s right, Lance,” Allura chirped. “Go get some rest. You’ve taken quite the beating too.” Well, Lance has been 'resting’ for the past 12 days. “Quiznak,” he mumbles to himself. “Lance! Keith woke up!,” Hunk enters the room, practically breathless. “What?! And nobody even told me! What kind of friends are you?” Lance runs up to Hunk, dropping his plate. “Listen, man. I just got the news from Coran too. Apparently he wanted to keep it a 'secret’ so we don’t overcrowd Keith when he woke up,” Hunk continues. The thought kind of made sense. “Anyways, you can go see him now. Pidge told me about your little, ahem, feelings for him.” “That little brat. Thanks, Hunk!” Lance says, but he wasn’t sure his friend even heard him because he had already dashed through the door and into the hallway. ———— If there was a record for running to someone’s room the fastest, Lance was sure he had beat it. The distance from the main kitchen to the paladins’ bedroom hallway was pretty lengthy, but Lance had managed to get there in no time. He slowed down after reaching his bedroom door to catch his breath. He still didn’t know why Keith had chosen the bedroom right next to Lance’s, but he was grateful that he didn’t have to walk much further. He rehersed his lines in his head, so he was to remain as smooth as possible, and approached the door. Knock! Toc! Toc! “Come in.” The door wooshed open, and Lance slowly approached Keith. It was dark inside, save for the faint teal lights lining the ceiling corners. The boy was laying down on his bed, covers pulled up over him, as if he was about to fall asleep. “I’m sorry,” Lance starts. “Did I catch you at a bad time?” “No, its fine,” Keith sits himself upright, and Lance positions himself on the bed in a way that he was facing Keith, but his legs still touched the ground. “How are you feeling?” “Much better,” Keith sighs. “I guess there really is nothing a good two weeks in the cryopod can’t fix. I have a huge scar on my side where that bad cut was though.” An awkward silence follows. “Um, thanks for staying with me on the planet, by the way. I definitely would have died if it wasn’t for you,” Keith continues. He crosses his arms and looks down. Lance didn’t really try to make eye contact either. “No problem, dude. I mean, who would I be if I wasn’t the one saving your butt all the time?” Lance smiles. Maybe he can lighten up this awkward tension. “Oh, Lance!” Keith plays along, placing his hand dramatically his forehead. “You’re my hero!” They laugh a little and now the silence that followed from that exchange was a little more bearable. “I guess I should go, huh? Mr. Keithy needs his beauty rest,” Lance sighs, still keeping up his playful tone. He goes to stand up when suddenly Keith’s hand grabs on to his. “Wait,” Keith blurts. “Can you stay?” “Hmm? Why?” Lance sits back down and moves a little closer to Keith. Keith let’s Lance’s hand go and shifts a little. Even in the faint light, Lance could see the pink that suddenly lined the other boy’s face. “I want you.” “Dude, I’m like, right here.” “No, I mean. I want us.” “Us?” “Look, on that planet, Piyak, I was so scared that I was gonna die, but I was even more scared that I wouldn’t be able to tell you that-” “You like me,” Lance finishes. He takes Keith’s hand again. “Yeah,” Keith admits. “This is gonna sound really stupid, but I think I want be your boyfriend or something. I don’t know.” He squeezes Lance’s hand tighter. “Hmm, maybe that can happen,” Lance smirks. “Look at me for a second?” Keith glances up. Lance leans forwards, and placing his hand under the other boy’s chin, he kisses him. For real. Unlike on Piyak, this was a special kiss. It was long and warm and comfortable. Lance doesn’t even know how to describe it, only that he just doesn’t want it to stop. They part away. “That was,” Keith begins. “That was wow.” “'Wow’? Is that all you have to say?” Lance smirks. “I was thinking something along the lines of 'wonderfully amazing’, but now that just sounds cheesy.” “You ARE cheesy, Mr. 'Look At Me For A Second’. I mean come on!” Keith is now actually laughing and burying his face in his face. “Shut up shut up! I’m a romantic at heart, okay?” Lance giggles along with him. Honestly, he didn’t mind being called cheesy when it came to Keith. Hearing his laugh was kinda worth it. Hmm, maybe Lance was actually a little cheesy. Keith’s laughter dies down, and he finally looks up again. “Does this mean you will stay with me?” “Pfft, as if I was gonna say no. Move over a little. I’ll spoon you.” Keith gives the okay, and scooches to the left, facing the wall. Lance lays down right beside him and pulls the thick blanket over both him and Keith. He wraps his arm around the boy. Its really warm, actually, and it makes Lance get a little tingly in his stomach. Everything sort of drifts away in a sense. Like there is nothing else in the universe but him and Keith. Lance likes that thought. “You comfy?” He mumbles into Keith’s hair. “Mhm” “Good night.” “'Night.” “Did you know that I really like you?” “Lance, I swear to God.” “Okay, okay. Sleeping mode activated.” And with that, Lance closes his eyes. He wouldn’t mind spending all of eternity like this. Not one bit. -Klance Day

[luxekook]

in too deep ☼ knj

☼ dedication: this fic is a bday present for the loml tay aka tay bay bay aka @interludemoonchild​!!!! luv u long time <33 (sorry this isn’t about hobi skksksks)

☼ pairing: marine biologist namjoon x assistant reader

☼ genre: idiots to lovers, fluff, angst, crack

☼ summary: you had always grown up being told tales of terrible jobs with tyrannical bosses. but now, you’re left to wonder why you hadn’t heard more tragic stories of all-too-wonderful jobs with all-too-beautiful bosses... did falling for your boss only lead to heartbreak and a two weeks’ notice? or could it yield the possibility of romance?

☼ word count: 3.1k

☼ warnings: pg15, cursing, chaotic energy, pining, miscommunication, mentions of quitting, lots of sea nerd stuff, namjoon is smart af but an idiot in love, the reader isn’t any better, crabby bois, arguments, completely cheesy fluff, short make out sesh, mention of sex

☼ banner creator: heathy bby @shadowsremedy​

☼ beta reader: the amazing and astoundingly talented phia @meowxyoong​

“Kim Namjoon!” You cry, swatting the blue-clawed crab away from your feet with a broom, “What did I tell you about bringing your goddamn crustaceans into the office?”

The man in question hustles out of his office looking disheveled, “You’ve seen Carl?” He sinks right down to his hands and knees to peer under your desk. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, little buddy!”

You stare disappointedly as your boss picks up ‘Carl’ from his hiding place and cradles him to his chest. “Namjoon,” You sigh exasperatedly, folding your arms.

He looks up at you and blushes, “Sorry, Star. I just feel so bad leaving them downstairs at the lab. It’s so lonely and dark down there.” 

While your stomach flips at the mention of his nickname for you, your eyebrows furrow in confusion, “Well, why don’t you just stay down there with them?”

“Because you’re up here…” He mumbles something incoherent. 

“What?” You lean forwards, your ears straining to catch the garbled syllables.

Namjoon clears his throat, looking everywhere but at you, “Because it’s nicer up here.”

“Don’t tell your investors that,” You laugh, thinking of all the fancy and shiny equipment housed in the aquatics lab a few floors below. Working for a top-tier marine biologist sure had its perks - namely the state of the art kitchen with a full espresso bar. 

“Star, I would never!” He looks affronted by the mere mention of such a thing. “Now, apologize to Carl for scaring him.” 

You scoff, but just one glance into Namjoon’s sparkling brown eyes makes you crumble instantly. “Fine,” You begrudgingly shoot the crab a look, “Sorry, Carl.”

“See, Carl?” Namjoon croons, “She’s sorry!” As he turns back to you, you can immediately tell he is about to launch into Marine Biologist Mode™. 

“Carl is a blue crab - a Callinectes sapidus, to be precise. That scientific name literally means ‘savory beautiful swimmer’.”

“Savory, huh?” You quip, relishing in the scandalized look Namjoon shoots you.

“Don’t listen to her, Carl,” He whispers, stroking a finger gently down the crab’s shell. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes… He’s named for his pretty sapphire-tinted claws, and he’s one of the most harvested species of his kind. So, don’t even think about it.”

You burst out laughing as he eyes you, “Okay, Joon, I’ll leave my pot of boiling water at home.”

Namjoon splutters out a choked laugh, looking at you like you are the most exasperating thing he’s ever come across. And, you probably are.

When you came to work for the distinguished marine biologist four months ago, you found him literally buried beneath piles of research papers, files, and National Geographic magazines. Apparently, he had tripped into his filing cabinet and everything had fallen off of the shelves onto him. The man had been a right mess. It was no wonder he had put an ad out in search of an assistant.

In your new role, you slowly but surely introduced some structure and organization into Namjoon’s life as best you could. The first thing you did was update his office. The man still had an honest to god lava lamp on his desk. You were still baffled at how he had managed not to break the fixture before your arrival.

Swiftly following the disposal of the cursed lava lamp, you ordered new file cabinets - and had them nailed to the wall. Virtually, you did even more. You restructured his online platforms and updated his schedule to include more than just scattered notes like “Meeting at 10AM, i think? Or was it 10PM?”

To his credit, Namjoon adhered to most of your suggestions and changes, but apparently he still refused to grasp the ‘no creatures in the office’ rule.

Overall, Namjoon was a great boss - kind, understanding, sweet, and a tad eccentric. His love for all things sea-related shone through the gentle way he handled his specimens, the passionate tone of voice he used while speaking on any related topic, and the stars in his eyes at the mere mention of discovering a new species.

It had been all too easy to become infatuated with him. Especially when he called you “Star” and left you to interpret the meaning on your own. 

You remember the exact moment that you fell in love with him so vividly. It had been last month, just three months into working for him. Namjoon had been going off about fucking sand of all things.

“…Sand speaks of history, of science, of travels. Each grain of sand holds thousands upon thousands of years of movement, of erosion. For example, the beach outside of this building is tan because of the iron oxide tinting the quartz and the feldspar to a light brown color. But, there are other beaches that are black, white and even pink in color! It’s fascinating! And to quote the goddess of marine biology Rachel Carson: "In every curving beach, in every grain of sand, there is a story of the Earth…”

Yeah, you are head over heels for your boss. And that’s why you needed to quit.

The end of the workday arrives too quickly - a common theme it seems when you love what you do and who you work for. Namjoon walks beside you down to the parking lot. You sneak a glance at his face and note that he seems deep in thought.

Your mind slips to the image of you and Namjoon going home together to a shared house overrun with fish tanks and models of sharks. It’s all too easy to picture, and all too painful to acknowledge the impossibility.

“Star,” Namjoon’s voice jolts you from your fantasy. You blink up at him, realizing you’re both stopped beside your adjacent cars. Namjoon smiles at you, “I’ll see you tomorrow? It’ll be Friday, finally...” 

It seems like he wants to say more but stops himself for some reason. You pause, waiting for him to continue, but he just blushes and brings a hand to the back of his neck bashfully.

“Yeah, Friday,” Your tone is less enthusiastic. You planned to hand in your two weeks’ notice tomorrow. It’s a complete strategy on your part so that you can have the whole weekend to cry and shove at least one gallon of ice cream down your throat.

You wave goodbye to each other and enter your respective cars. You watch Namjoon pull out of the parking lot before you and pause to rest your forehead on your steering wheel. You were so screwed.

Twenty-four exhausting hours later, you find yourself with your fist poised over Namjoon’s wooden office door. Are you actually doing this? Are you really going to quit the only job you’d ever loved? 

Yes, you are. You love Namjoon too much to stay here surrounded by his charisma and his beauty. You love him too much to try to complicate his workspace, his sacred ground. You love him too much to ask him to blur the lines of colleague and lover.

You need to leave - for his sake and for yours. It isn’t like he still needs you. He has been following your routine with vigor and always keeps his office organized now. Your tasks have been dwindling for weeks. 

It’s time to move on. God, even the tension today had been off the charts with you and Namjoon skirting around each other like you were both walking on eggshells. Clearly, he is also feeling like you are in the way.

With that in mind, you straighten your shoulders and finally knock on the door.

Your ears strain for any sign of an answer. Your breath catches in your throat as you try to sustain the meager amount of courage you had mustered up inside you. Twisting open the handle, you push the door open and are immediately met with an empty office. Damn, he must be downstairs.

You chuckle at the sheer idiocy of your panicked state over knocking on an empty office door.

This is perfect anyways. You can hand Namjoon your two weeks’ and then evacuate the building in one sweep. Shutting down your computer and grabbing your things, you trudge out of the room and towards the stairs.

The journey downwards seems akin to walking the plank as you take each step slowly, dreading the inevitable. 

Ciara has it all wrong: you do not love it when you One, Two Step. 

The entrance to the lab looms overhead. The steel double doors look more like the gateway to hell rather than a nice entrance to a marine facility. You don’t break your stride as you march through the doors. If you had, you might not have kept going.

The familiar light humming of the tank filters meets your ears as you peer around the rows of shelves containing colorful fish and scuttling critters.

“Joon?” You call, the nickname slipping past your lips before you can stop it.

“Back here, Star!” His answer sounds from the very back of the lab. Of course, that’s where the crabs are housed.

You make your way past the tanks of clownfish and the pools of stingrays to where Namjoon sits hunched over the shallow tank containing four green-tinted crabs. 

“That’s it, Nala.” Namjoon croons as the smallest of the four crabs swims around the tank, “You show your brothers how fast you are.”

“Talking to your subjects again, boss?” You can’t help but tease the man you've grown to love as he fawns over his work.

Namjoon blushes slightly and nods, pushing his glasses up to rest on the bridge of his nose, “Studies have shown that it helps them develop.”

“I thought that was humans?” You say, shifting your weight back and forth. The letter in your hand seems to burn more each second you hold onto it. You couldn't take it anymore.

As Namjoon opens his mouth to reply, you thrust the letter into his chest and say, “Never mind. This is for you. Please read it later.”

With that, you fast-walk your way back to the entrance of the lab. The sound of the envelope tearing open only forces you faster. Fuck, it had been idiotic of you to assume that he would actually listen to you and open it later. Namjoon is as impatient as they come. Of course he wouldn't wait.

“Star!” His strangled call startles you, “What is this?”

“We can talk about it on Monday!” You reply, somehow already close to tears. Why is this godforsaken lab so big? You pace down the aisles of tanks and breathe a sigh of relief as the exit comes into view. 

Then, Namjoon comes barreling around the corner, cutting off your escape. The man looks baffled as he clutches your written resignation in his hands. His chest heaves as he holds the torn pages out towards you, “What. Is. This. Star?”

You bristle. I guess we’re doing this now, you thought. Stiffening your shoulders, you muster all the false bravado you can manage, “It’s my two weeks’ notice, Namjoon. I’m sure a smart guy like you can read.”

“Okay, allow me to rephrase,” Namjoon stalks towards you, tossing the crumpled letter over his shoulder. “Why did you give me this?”

“The letter explains everything,” Your eyes dart around, both in search of a viable escape and in avoidance of his intensity.

“Sure it does,” He scoffs, his eyes blazing with disbelief. “I want to hear it from you.”

Your back hits the cool glass of the tank behind you. You’re trapped between the contrasting temperatures of the water and Namjoon’s body.

“Joon,” Your voice shakes, “You don’t need me anymore. You’ve done everything I've asked of you and then some. You’re organized. You’re on time. You’re put together. I barely have enough tasks now to fill a day, let alone a week. It’s time to move on.”

“Time to move on?” Namjoon echoes before barking out a humorless laugh, “I don’t need you anymore? That’s really what you think, Star?”

“Don’t call me that.” The nickname snufs out any trace of fight left inside you, and you plead, “Just let me go, Joon.”

“Never,” He growls.

“I don’t understand what you’re not getting,” You sigh, exasperated and drained, “You’ve surpassed my expectations and erased the need for my position. I think the saying ‘the student has become the master’ applies here.”

Namjoon gapes at you before he snaps, “You’re the one who’s not getting it! Have you ever considered that the student might just be in love with the teacher?”

Joon rakes a hand through his hair as you become the one to gape open mouthed at the frustrated man.

He continues, “I wake up earlier every damn day because I can’t wait to see you at work. I organize all of my things because I just want to see you smile at me when you notice. I spend an hour each night picking out what to wear the next day because I want to impress you… Don’t you see? Everything I do is for you, is because of you. I want to be the best version of myself for you.”

Your mind struggles to compute the seemingly impossible notion that the object of your affections returns your love. “Did you,” You gasp out, “Just say that you loved me?”

“Yes, you complete jellyfish! I love you. I am in love with you! And it’s not like it’s not obvious! I call you ‘Star’ because you are my starfish, my sea star. You are the one who keeps the balance to my ecosystem of chaos. You are the key species that keeps everything afloat.”

“And you thought that was obvious?” You yell back at him, “How on earth would I immediately have known the intense analysis behind your nickname for me, Namjoon the science buffoon?” You huff, scrambling to process the amount of information that had just been thrown at you. 

He needed you?

He loved you back? 

He nicknamed you after a fucking marine invertebrate?!

Namjoon blinks in surprise, “Did you just insult me with a Bill Nye pun?” You don’t deign to give him a response. Namjoon chuckles before grinning sheepishly, “Okay, fine. You make a good point.”

“I know I do,” You pout. “You can’t just spring this on me, Joon. Why haven't you told me this before?”

“Because I was nervous that you would leave me, that you wouldn't return my feelings. Obviously, the first point is moot. What about the second?”

“You’re asking if I love you back?” Your body sags against the tank behind you, “How could I not, you crab-loving, walking mess of a—”

Namjoon captures your mouth with his, kissing you with fervor. His hands wind their way up to cradle your face between them like you are the most precious thing to him. 

Pulling back slightly, Namjoon rasps out, “So, you’ll stay?” 

“Hm, I don’t know,” You crack a wry smile, “What’s in it for me?”

“Well, let me show you,” Namjoon replies before whipping his shirt off. You gape open mouthed at the expanse of beautiful tan skin in front of you. 

Was that a hint of a tattoo swirling over his left shoulder?

He reaches down to tug at the hem of your dress, insinuating he wants it off. A nice concept in theory; however, with one look around at your surroundings, you slap his hand away. “Namjoon! Not in front of the fish!”

“But, Star, these aren’t fish! These are squid, and they are classed as cephalopods—”

You put a hand over his mouth, “Allow me to clarify: I will only fuck in a creature-free zone.”

Namjoon murmurs something beneath your palm. You give him a warning look before removing your hand. He immediately repeats himself, “My office?”

Your eyes narrow, “I know for a fact you have at least three crabs in there.”

Namjoon pauses, looking suspiciously shifty, “There are only seven…” 

You wait for it.

“...teen.” He finishes.

“Kim Namjoon!”

Two Years Later

The short walk down the aisle ends too quickly as you find yourself standing in front of a teary-eyed Namjoon. Five of his friends stand behind him in a row, while the sixth stands proudly as the officiant.

They really are out here looking like a whole boy band, you muse. But, you only have eyes for their leader. 

Namjoon stands before you, all tall and handsome in his tux; and as Officiant Jin™ begins the ceremony, you can't help but wonder how you got so lucky.

Finally, the ring exchange is introduced dramatically by Seokjin who spouts something about circles and never ending love. “Let us now have the rings brought forward and presented by the ring-bearer!” He booms, raising his arms up like he is summoning a great force.

Ring-bearer? You rake your mind for a prior mention of a ring-bearer… You thought Yoongi as the best man would have the rings.

Suddenly, Namjoon produces a silver whistle from his pocket and blows it once. You stare at your soon-to-be husband like he has sprouted another head.

And then you hear it: the sound of legs and claws scuttling across the floor towards the altar. 

“Tell me that is not what I think it is,” You whisper-yell over to Namjoon, who looks way too pleased for your liking.

Your fears and exasperations come true as Namjoon swoops down to pick up Carl who has two shiny rings tied to his shell with a ribbon.

“Oh, Kim Namjoon,” You sigh as you watch him remove the rings from Carl and hand the crab off to a disgruntled Taehyung, “What am I going to do with you?”

“You’re going to marry me,” Namjoon grins.

And marry him you did.

a/n: jellyfish have no brains, lolz. idk why making joon call the reader a jellyfish made me crack tf up but IT DID.

© luxekook. please do not repost, modify, edit or translate.

[angrylizardjacket]

i’ll be in the front row {Joe Mazzello}

Anon asked: lil prompt I thought of while doing my laundry: imagine meeting Joe while you’re both doing your laundry at a laundromat. it’s nyc, so apartments with full wash & dryer are hard to come by. joe is always running lines with himself, and you both sometimes loan each other quarters when one of you runs out.

Anon asked: tbh I don’t have anything specific to request, but I am begging you to please write more for Joe. srsly you write him so well & he deserves more content!!! 🐚 

A/N: 3269 words. my little garbage brain had to yell at me not to write this like the laundry scene from Dr Horrible. BIG FLUFF. set around undrafted. hope you enjoy. PLEASE leave feedback!! i love this so so very much omfg.

----

You always see him on Sundays, eleven in the morning, like clockwork. Dark sunglasses, fancy backpack, but nondescript clothes; sweater and jeans, baseball jersey and jeans, laundry day clothes if you’ve ever seen them. He’s a little familiar, but you’re not sure why. Sometimes he’s wearing a cap, but not with any sort of consistency, at least not in the six months since you’d been coming there. 

For the record, you’re not staring, he’s the only person who comes in at the exact same time as you, give or take fifteen minutes, and he, like you, always waits for his laundry. It’s only been in the past few months that you’d even started recognizing each other, smiling and giving the other a wave across the machines. It’s harmless, it’s people watching, it’s routine.

One morning, he’s sitting on his washing machine, with a pen in his mouth and a stack of papers in one hand. His usual sunglasses are propped up on his head, which isn’t an unusual occurrence when he reads - is it weird that you know that? Kind of. He’s highlighting something, mouthing whatever he’s reading too fast for you to catch, and anyways, you’re trying not to stare. You’re half paying attention to a kitschy game on your phone since your washing is almost done, and you heave your damp clothes into the dryer.

“Damnit,” patting your pockets again, and searching through your change, you can’t help but scowl and come to an annoying conclusion. All you have is a fifty, and the change machine in the laundromat only spits out quarters.

“You okay?” It’s the guy with the script, your quiet laundry buddy, looking at you with slight concern, pen still in his mouth.

“Yeah,” you huff a sigh, putting on a strained smile, “two quarters short for the dryer.” Usually you had smaller bills, or just remembered to bring the right change, “can you watch my stuff while I go to the gas station to get change?”

“I can cover two quarters,” he offers easily with a slight smile, pulling the pen from his mouth and putting it, the highlighter, and the stack of papers, onto the dryer after he jumps from it. You stumble through trying to brush him off and refuse graciously, but he’s already elbow-deep in his backpack, telling you it’s no trouble.

“I owe you,” you say with half a laugh, and he shares in your amusement.

“Yeah, I’ll hold you to that,” he replies with an amiable sarcasm, which has you laughing. After you start the dryer, however, you turn back and he’s regarding you with a frown, leaning on the washing machine with his stuff in it.

“Do I have something on my face?” You ask with surprising uncertainty, and he’s quick to clear the frown from his face as he shakes his head.

“No, it’s just kind of weird that we’ve been coming here for so long but never... like, spoken.” He muses, and you feel yourself growing surprised. He offers his hand. “Joe.”

“Y/N,” you say, shaking his hand firmly, and he quietly repeats your name back to himself, like he’s committing it to memory. Something warms in your chest, and you can’t help but look at the stack of papers he’d been focusing intently on, “may I ask what you’re working on?” And he looks confused for the barest moment, quickly followed by excitement, and then what you recognize as him very deliberately restraining that excitement into something more polite.

“It’s a script,” and he kind of sounds... apologetic?

“And...?” You prompt, before backpeddling, “I mean, if you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s fine, I mean we technically just met -” and he’s waiving you off goodnaturedly.

“No, I know, I know,” he assures, “I just... another white guy writing a script in New York?” He makes a face, “get a real personality, am I right?” He laughs self-deprecatingly, but it seems to hit a little too close to home for him, and his expression falls. It’s a sentiment he’s been on the receiving end of far too many times.

“What’s it about?” You ask, gentle and genuinely curious, and his eyebrows raise in surprise as he meets your gaze. Tentatively hopeful, he explains that he’s on the fourth draft of it, that it’s loosely based on his brother’s experiences trying to make it into the Major Leagues in baseball. Most of it goes over your head, but you can’t help but be intrigued. 

“I’m not super big into baseball,” you admit as he’s winding down, “but it sounds awesome, dude; let me know when it’s in theaters and I’ll be in the front row.” He grins at that.

You exchange phone numbers a month later, the pair of you getting take out at the fast food joint across the road from the laundromat, so you could still at least keep somewhat of an eye on your clothes. He’s in between drafts of the script, and they’re actually in preproduction, and you realise oh, he’s actually serious about this.

“See, that’s the difference,” you tell him, leaning your elbows on the table and pointing a finger at him, “the difference is that you follow through.”

“What?” He laughs, not yet following your train of thought.

“Every other white guy in New York could write a script, but none of them would follow through and get it made; you’re ambitious, Joe.”

“I’m not ambitious, I’m just lucky,” he shrugs, a blush creeping up his cheeks, but you won’t let it slide.

“Luck will only get you so far,” you tut, and he gives you a strange look.

“Have you... never seen Jurassic Park?”

“When I was younger,” you shrugged.

“Or The Social Network?”

“I’ve really been meaning to, why?” 

“No reason,” Joe shakes his head with a disbelieving grin, and doesn’t bring it up again.

A few weeks later, he’s late by almost a full half an hour, which you’re not particularly bothered by, you get the impression that he’s a busy guy, but he runs in, laundry basket in hand, apologizing breathlessly. 

“No need to apologise,” you tell him with a bright smile, putting your phone away, “everything okay?”

“Budget meeting ran late,” he explains, gracelessly lumping his clothes into the washing machine and throwing a few tide pods in along with them, “filming’s so close, I just lost track of time.”

“Oh, shit really? Wait have you already cast it?” You asked with a surprisingly genuine excitement; over the weeks, you’ve become rather invested in this project.

“Yeah, didn’t I tell you?” He asked with a grin, “casting was finalized two weeks ago; we start rehearsals next Saturday.”

“That’s so exciting!” You enthused, before laughing, “anyone I’d recognize?” And it’s mostly a joke, but Joe gives pause, evaluating you before he pushes start on his washing machine.

“I don’t know,” he answers genuinely, before conceding, “I mean, apart from me -”

“Acting, writing, and directing; does that make you a triple threat?” You asked coyly, and he breaks out into grin.

“And producing,” he reminds, and you make an impressed noise, nodding.

“Quadruple threat, excuse me.”

“But honestly, I don’t know if you’d recognize them; do you know,” and he goes back to the topic at hand, frowning a little, “Aaron Tveit?” You’re a little speechless, before answering.

“Not personally,” you find yourself answering, which gets Joe to laugh, “shit, dude, from Broadway?” And Joe’s wearing a proud little smile when he nods in confirmation, “and the Les Mis movie?”

“The very same,” Joe agrees, and your mouth hangs agape, “I told you, this is a real movie, I’m not filming this in my backyard,” after a beat, he licks his lips and jumps to sit on the washing machine, “have you seriously never googled me?”

“Why would I?” You asked, and he huffs a disbelieving laugh, shaking his head again in that way that you don’t quite understand. “Should I?” You finally ask, and Joe shrugs, smiling bright and carefree. He’s even swinging his legs, ankles crossed.

“I’m not a murderer, if that’s what’s got you worried,” he muses with a surprisingly carefree grin, “I mean, I’m kind of glad that you haven’t, it means you actually like me for me, you know?”

“Of course I do,” you answer automatically, and Joe’s expression turns fond, “I really like you, dude,” you explain, “I’m kind of in awe of what you’re accomplishing.” And you mean it with your whole heart, “if you’d prefer I didn’t google you, I won’t; I don’t make a habit of googling my friends, I won’t start with you.” When you say this, something about him relaxes, and he hops off the washing machine.

“Wanna grab lunch?” He asks with a smile, which you mirror without hesitation, and agree.

They’re filming out of state, which Joe tells you the week before he leaves, and you hadn’t realised how much you would miss him until the first Sunday rolls around, and you’re sitting in the laundromat alone.

Your phone goes off with a notification at exactly eleven.

It’s a photo of Joe and Aaron Tveit in baseball jerseys, covered in dirt, grinning.

[HOLY SHIT] you send back, following it up with [IS THAT] and then you wait a moment before adding [QUADRUPLE THREAT JOE MAZZELLO??] 

[christ 😳😅🥰] he sends back, and something about his restrained but still obviously flustered response has your heart skip a beat. [is it weird that i miss the laundromat?]

[yes 😂]

[and you of course i miss you too] he’s quick to follow it up with, and your own smile grows wider. You take a photo of the empty laundromat and draw in a terrible stick figure impression of him and send it back.

[miss u too haha] and you give pause before sending [hey if u ever wanna send other prod photos.......] [u don’t just have to send them on sunday]

[you haven’t signed an NDA 😂]

[joseph who am i gonna tell??]

[your other friends idk]

[my lips are ZIPPED 🤐] [photos for personal use only]

[personal use????? 😘😘]

[dont be GROSS]

[but i wanna be gross!!]

So now you’re flustered in the middle of the laundromat, completely at a loss as to how to respond to that. 

[are u flirting with me joseph?] you send back, and you watch the three little typing dots as they hover for a very long time.

[only if you’re into it]

Oh. 

[the FIRST WEEK YOU’RE AWAY FROM THE LAUNDROMAT AND YOU’RE PULLING THIS SHIT] [i AM into it but fuck 😳😅]

[I’VE BEEN FLIRTING WITH YOU FOR WEEKS]

Oh!

[OH]

[THE FIRST WEEK I’M AWAY FROM THE LAUNDROMAT AND YOU FINALLY PICK UP ON IT???]

[go direct ur baseball movie 🥰😅] you send, and tuck your phone away, feeling rather like a fool, but a pleased fool nonetheless, and you’re grinning for the rest of the day.

Photos are exchanged often after that, usually selfies, or photos of where either of you were, what you were doing, the flirting turning absolutely less subtle with each day that passes until you’re just complimenting each other, and mentioning occasionally how you miss the other.

When he sends a photo of himself posing against the fence of the dugout in a way that showed off his ass, you can’t help but make it your lock screen, though it’s quickly followed by a video and a text that reads [i was told i have to send you this too,,, for context].

“This feels undignified,” says a strangely familiar voice from off-screen, presumably filming, while Joe was trying to ask for opinions on how he should pose.

“This is undignified,” comes someone else’s response, and the camera swings around to reveal an amused Tyler Hoechlin, opening a water bottle, “this Y/N must be real cute.” In the background, a few others, vaguely recognizable, all in baseball uniforms, snicker.

“They are!” Joe answered defiantly, grinning, one leg up against the wire, looking over his shoulder, “are you filming me?” The camera flips around and you get a pretty glorious angle directly up Aaron Tveit’s nose.

“No -”

The video stops abruptly, and you’re all but wheezing with laughter, though all you send back is;

[so worth it] [ur ass *chef’s kiss*]

[THANK YOU] [you get it] [knew there was a reason i liked you so much]

The moment he gets back to New York, he asks you out to dinner. Of course you say yes.

For your third date, he offers to cook you dinner, and watch a movie, prefaced with a question that you’re surprised he still asks; have you really not googled me? And the honest answer you always give: no.

His apartment has a lot of movie posters, of movies you’ve heard of but never seen, or seen when you were very little.

“Big movie buff, obviously,” you note with a little smile, and he raises his eyebrows in amusement at your observation. Even moreso when you excitedly coo about how you haven’t seen Jurassic Park in so long when he suggests it.

“Your self restraint is godlike, babe,” he snickers, and you’re not quite sure what he means, you’re kind of just happy to be here. 

He cooks dinner, and you both sit down in front of his alarmingly big TV, and you feel a warm rush of nostalgia at the opening. You’re eating quietly, watching with rapt attention, but you can feel Joe watching you expectantly. 

“What’s up?” You ask, turning to him, confused, and his smile grows a little wider, and his gaze flicks to the screen for a moment, and then back to you.

“Just waiting for it to click.”

“For what to click?” 

“Babe,” and he says it like he can’t quiet believe it, his gaze now focused on the screen where the kids, Tim and Lex, were being introduced, “that’s me.” And follow his gaze and holy shit. A lot of things start making a lot more sense.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting your reaction to be, but the way your face lights up, and the unbridled enthusiasm and compliments that pour out of you, was not it, but he’s definitely not complaining. 

“Wait!” Your eyes sparkle as you look around his apartment, the movie posters he had everywhere now having a completely different meaning, “all these...?”

“Every single one,” he agrees, a little abashed, suddenly humble, and you grin when you finally look back at him.

“I didn’t think I could be more awed by you, but dude,” you enthused, “that’s cool as hell! You’re cool as hell!” But you take a deep breath, putting your plates onto the coffee table, sitting as close to him as you could, “but I would have thought the world on you even if you hadn’t done any of this,” and he tries to brush it off, but you’re adamant, “no, I mean it, I like you for you, Joe, not for what you’ve done, but... for who you are.”

“You’re gonna make me blush,” he shoots for serious, but misses entirely thanks to his pleased little smile.

“Good,” you tell him seriously, and kiss both of his pink cheeks before kissing him. Your dinner might get a little cold after that, but you can always reheat it. 

You comfort him over the weeks it takes to edit him film, Undrafted, though he’ll never let you see too much of the final product; he wants you to see it in cinemas first.

It’s still kind of surreal to you that Joe Mazzello is both a movie star, and your boyfriend. He’s still friends with Laura Dern, and he also spends eight dollars a week at a laundromat to wash his clothes. Bizarre. But you kind of like how down-to-earth he is. 

What’s more bizarre is when he invites you to the red carpet premiere of his movie.

“Me?” You squeaked, and he seemed a little confused at your hesitation, his hands on your shoulders.

“You,” he nodded slowly, not understanding why you’re suddenly nervous.

“For real?”

“Yeah, of course I want you there; you said so yourself, you’d be in the front row, right?” He smiled a little and you could feel your heart melt.

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do,” he tells you gently, “it’s one of the reasons I liked you in the first place.” He’s so earnest; you agree easily.

The red carpet is a whole other world, you find, dressed to the nines, styled by someone you don’t know, cameras flashing in your face -

“Is this Y/N?” Tyler Hoechlin is saying your name. What universe is this? Joe was blushing furiously with his arm around you as the cast made their way over.

“Finally, a face for a name,” and that’s Aaron Tveit; you have to remind yourself not to get star struck. Instead, you smile and offer your hand to them both, which they shake, smiling and greeting you warmly. 

“Don’t embarrass me, you assholes,” Joe warned, though his tone was amused, and the others chuckled, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Mister Director,” Aaron assured.

“You’re good at doing that on your own,” Tyler added, and Joe gave him the finger, but held you a little tighter. 

“Did he send you the video of when he asked me to take that photo? You know the one,” Aaron asked, and you straightened your posture, grinning brightly.

“With an ass like his, I don’t know why you’d think it’s undignified,” you said loftily, and there was a beat as everyone took in what you said.

“I fucking love you,” Joe half laughed, pulling you in for a kiss.

“You’re good,” Tyler snorted, shaking his head with a grin, and Aaron was just straight-up laughing. The rest of the cast took to you easily, though most of the in-jokes among them went over your head, by Joe’s side, you never really felt left out. 

The theater itself was cool and dark, but you could feel the whole cast and crew thrumming with excitement and nervous energy, and Joe gave your hand a squeeze where your fingers were interlaced. 

It’s clear he’d poured his heart and soul into the movie, his fingerprints were all over every aspect of it, and you couldn’t quite believe you were watching it all finally completed; it had been almost a year since you’d first asked him about it, and now, here you were, hand in hand with him at the premiere. 

As the credits rolled, as the crowd clapped, and you along with them, you found yourself speechless. Joe, quiet and surprisingly nervous, turns to you.

“What’d you think?” His voice is quiet, uncertain, and you all but tackle him across the armrest, kissing him until you’re both breathless.

“I’m so proud of you,” you gasp against his lips, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” his voice is gentle as he takes your face in his hands, but you shake your head.

“You could have, babe, you absolutely could have, you’ve got so much ambition and talent -”

“I didn’t want to do it without you,” he admits in a rush, and you freeze, eyes on his, “I mean it.” And you’re kissing him again, hoping he can feel the pride and love that’s flowing through you. There’s an afterparty to get to, drinks with the cast and crew, and a comfortable bed waiting after that, you know, but you can’t help but bask in this one moment together, just a little longer.

[the-silentium]

It hurts

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 3338 words

Warnings: ANGST, murder, blood, swearing, mention of desire to die.

Requested by: Anon

I loved your song fic “Folded messages” so much, and I saw u said we could send. I decided to give it a shot :”) obviously don’t feel obligated to do it, I’ll respect if u don’t want to ☺️☺️ I am sucker for old songs, and I think they fit so well with 5. I was wondering if a 5 fic with the song “Can’t take my eyes off of you” would be possible. I don’t rly have a plot in mind, maybe when Five meets reader in commission, or just somewhere between S1 or S2. I apologize if this is too general :”)

A/N: I know the song was out in 1967 and that it wasn’t out when the fic take place, but let’s forget about that detail, okay? Okay. Dear anon, I’m sure you wanted fluff, but I don’t know, I can’t really explain myself. It just happened. 

As the ultimate warm breath of your latest victim escaped her mouth, the pain flashing through your entire body intensified until you found yourself falling on your knees. Every nerve in your body was ablaze, the feeling of your insides burning and melting away was excruciating, breaking the remnants of your already shattered mind. Millenniums passed and you never got used to the pain. This pain that you couldn't fight or attenuate. This pain that, with each passing century, fed on your sanity and created the monster that you were now. This pain that clearly wanted you to die, but something else within every cell of your being was fighting fiercely against it. Making you live. Live in pain. It hurts. 

The once warm body of the young lady was now cold, the room now bathed in moonlight instead of sun rays. Getting up, you barely noticed how your clothes stuck to your body, enormous patches of dried blood keeping them glued to your skin. You staggered on your feet as the world shifted and your vision filled with dark fireflies. You took a deep breath and made your way up the stairs where you knew you could find a change of clothes. As you reached the stairs, your eyes caught movement out of the kitchen window. 

Two tall white-haired men forced the lock of the store next door. Their expressions weren't visible in the darkness of the alley, but the dim light of a nearby lamppost reflected on the guns badly hidden under their coats. 

A new wave of blood lust drowned your senses, replacing your hurting thoughts with angry ones. Rushing out of the apartment, you made your way to the slightly open door, thinking how unfair it was that everyone around you could die with something as simple as a bullet or a stab wound, yet you couldn't. It hurts.

You were pulled out of your thoughts by a large form blocking your view. Steely-blue eyes glared at you, the knife in his hand shining under the neons above, ready to pierce your heart in one swift movement if you were to make a move towards them. You weren’t intimidating in any way, your petite form along with your soft features wasn’t why the giant was alert. 

Not only was your entire front almost covered in blood, but the atmosphere around you was definitely the most dangerous he ever encountered. The hair on his neck and arms raised as soon as your gaze found his. Once before had he felt like that, the faithful evening he and his brothers were doing check-ups on their traps set into the woods in hope of having a nice dinner the day after. Otto remembered the fear he felt when they were met with a lone-wolf missing a back leg, said leg still stuck into the fangs of their trap. A tingling sensation around the scar of his eye disturbed the Swede, the vivid memory of his flesh being slashed open flashing before his eyes. He remembers the desperation and insanity glazing the yellow eyes of the wolf, the same desperation and insanity that were dancing in your own (e/c) ones. What was terrifying him was the intelligence hidden under the surface. You were a predator in disguise-

Screams resonated through the room as Axel started to torture the ally of their brother’s murderer, surely thinking that Otto had the matter under control. Your head turned back on the bloody scene unfolding before you, allowing Otto to fill his lungs with air, the first time in almost a minute. Otto stiffened as you moved, relaxing a little when you made your way to the other side of the room to sit on a sofa.

“I won’t steal your prey.” Your eyes were fixed on the man being tortured, the blood oozing from his nose and mouth. How the pain caused his muscles to constrict- “I just want to watch.” 

And watch you did. The giant’s attention was on you, but you couldn’t care less. You enjoyed every moment of the blue-coated man’s torture session, liking his style. You let them drench their washcloths with the dead man’s blood before making your way to the body. Out of habit, you reached for its neck, searching delicately for a pulse, even faint. Your nostrils flared when you found none, once again facing the injustice of your curse. His pain was gone while yours was still there. His torturer let him go while yours, whoever it was, kept you suffering day after day, year after year, and so on for… You didn’t remember for how long. You’ve been alive for so long that you didn’t remember why or when you were cursed. Wasn’t it unfair? Being cursed for a reason you didn’t even remember? It hurts.

The barrel of a gun refreshed the burning skin of your temple for a moment, making you close your eyes in delight. The feeling was very short-lived, though, the fire intensifying to cover the pleasant sensation. You reopened your eyes to meet the two white-haired men, the tallest pointing you with his gun from a good distance, while the blue-coated one was close enough to touch your head with his weapon. You turned slowly towards them, the gun now pressing onto your forehead.

“No witness.” His accent reminded you of your time in Scandinavian lands. You could see his eyes analyzing your blood coated features, trying to understand how a beautiful young woman like you in her early twenties could appear as such a dreadful sight. You saw it for a split second, the hardening of his gaze, milliseconds before his mind decided that it was enough and his finger pulled the trigger. 

As the bullet entered the front of your skull, you wondered if your gaze hardened too just before you gave the final blows to your prey. Do they know when all hope is to be abandoned? 

You didn’t fall to the floor as the Swedish men expected. Nor did blood escaped the bullet wound into your head. Instead of blood, a blackish liquid escaped the hole into your forehead, tainting your red-coated skin with a viscous dark trail. It hurts.

“Too bad then. No one gets what they want.” You simply stated as if this was the most evident thing in the world. 

Out of respect for their handy work on the shop clerk, you tilted your head slightly in their direction as the wound into your head started to close slowly, your curse stubbornly keeping you alive and well, before walking away to explore the rest of the shop. You ignored how their footsteps were hurried or how they called you a demon in their native tongue, focusing instead on the files scattered under a coffee table. You didn’t know why you crouched to get them, but you did and you read them. Every page.

By the time you were done, you were seated at the edge of the sofa once again. A tall blonde guy and a dark-haired one entered the room, too scandalized about the dead body of their friend and the markings on the floor below to notice you reading one of the tv brochures you found lying around. When they did though, your reading material was snatched from your hands, and a knife threatened the skin of your throat. 

You had hoped that the metal would be as satisfying as the barrel of the gun was, but you had no such luck. You huffed in disappointment before dropping your hands to your knees. It hurts.

“Who are you?” The dark-haired man pressed you, the sharp side of the knife digging slightly into your skin. 

You glared at him from your position, not impressed one bit. 

“If I tell you I’ll have to kill you.” You replied cockily. You could have fun before opening his throat with his own knife.

You expected the knife to cut your skin, definitely not for blondie to pull his buddy away and reach for you with his big hand. You gnashed as the hand approached you, both in anger and anticipation. Just as he was about to grab your neck, a blue flash enveloped him, and he reappeared in another flash, at the opposite side of the room. Behind the tall blonde, a younger boy with wide blue eyes watched, surprised. 

He returned to his senses when knife guy made a move towards you. It hurts. 

“Don’t touch her Diego!” He hurriedly yelled, teleporting before Diego and pushing on his chest to keep him away. 

“Move, Five! She killed Elliott!” He tried to push the boy but ended like the blond on the other side of the room. 

You got up, unsure of what was happening. Never in your endless life had you encountered someone who could teleport around.

“No, she didn’t! Didn’t you idiots see the ‘öga för öga’ down there? It’s Swedish for an eye for an eye. The Swedes killed Elliot.” He pointed at you, still facing the men. “She was a witness. She got shot in the head.” 

You frowned, intrigued that the boy seemed to know you got shot despite the absence of a hole in your head. Sure, the dark trail was still there, running from your forehead to the bottom of your chin, but there was no way he could have known that this was actually your very own cursed rotten blood. 

“How do you know?” Your voice shot into the room, quieting the heated argument between the three males. 

“Because I know you, Y/N.” You paused, hearing your name for the first time in centuries. He stopped, thinking his words through. “In the future, we are friends.” 

You frowned, debating the veracity of his words. In the future? He indeed looked from another time, in his weird clothing, but also because this time would have made a scandal about his powers. You had a hard time believing that you could have a friend. You huffed, shooking your head. 

“Impossible. How do you know my name?” 

The boy shot a glare to the men before turning toward you. 

“You told me, because like I said, we are friends.” He walked in your direction, stopping a meter away. “I know that you are cursed.” You perked up at that, caught off guard. “I know that you react very violently to anyone touching you because your skin burns even more than it already does.” He chuckled slightly, his gaze holding yours with something that shook you to your very core, softness. “I experienced it first hand. You broke my arm and would have choked me to death if I hadn’t jumped.” 

The softness in his eyes morphed into something else, something you weren’t used to. You never experienced it yourself, but you certainly witnessed it. Affection. It almost scared you off, the muscles in your legs wanting nothing more than to be of use and take you far away, away from his caring blue gaze. 

What kept you there was the blood on his face and shirt. Could he be like you? 

“Shit. We’ll talk more later. We have more important to do.” He turned to his brothers, a new urgency in his tone and movements. “I found a way to get back to our timeline.” He walked to a nearby room and you tuned them out, instead focusing on yourself. 

Could you trust him? He obviously knew you and you once were -or will be- trusting him enough to tell him about yourself. You never opened up to anyone before, your anger was way too great in your younger years. Now that you thought about it, you couldn’t even remember the total of number of people who died from your hands. It hurts.

“What about doomsday?” Your head turned to the dark-haired guy, interested in his words. 

“Won’t happen.” 

“And the 2019 apocalypse?” 

“Everything will be back to normal.” 

What apocalypse? You watched them fuss around, totally confused. The boy stopped before you, presenting you his arm. No, it hurts.

“I know fabric hurt less than skin to skin contact.” Your confusion was clearly written onto your face, forcing him to explain. “I’m taking you with me.”

You almost asked him why, but decided against it, a plan already forming into your brain. You grabbed his sleeve softly and in a second you were in the passenger seat of a car. The engine roared to life when the boy-

“What’s your name?” 

He turned to you, surprised for a second before genuinely smiling and turning back to the road. 

“Five.” 

“How old are you really?” He smirked.

“I knew you’d catch up quickly.” His eyes shifted from the road to you, lingering on your face like he was replaying some memories to himself. “58.” 

You hummed and turned to the window. You watched the buildings disappear, letting the trees stand high to the sky. The countryside road was a bit bumpy but you didn’t mind. You rolled down the window, letting the wind appease the fire under your skin for a little while. 

You had to admit that the silence between the two of you was pleasant. Maybe you really were friends.

“So an apocalypse is coming, eh?” You sit your back to the door, facing Five. You pulled your legs to your chest, your arms hugging them to keep them close so your chin could rest on your knees. You didn’t care that the dress you wore wasn’t covering the back of your tights, but it seemed that this detail was bothering him, his cheeks reddening quickly.

“Y-yes.” He turned back straight ahead and coughed to hide his embarrassment. “Our presence here created an apocalypse that will happen in a couple of days. Don’t worry though, I’ll stop it.”

You chuckled when you noticed him peaking back in your direction, his eyes clearly not focussing on your face this time. His blush spread from his cheeks to his neck and for the very last time, he turned his eyes ahead and kept them there. 

You reached a farm where two women were talking outside, without a care in the world. You waited for Five into the car, patiently planning into your head. Fortunately, Five didn’t think that this would take too long, so he let the car running, allowing you to turn up the radio volume slightly. 

Five came back and you were humming to a song, ignoring the fact that he was beyond pissed that one of the women didn’t follow him as he wanted. He drove the car back to the road, fuming but keeping it all inside, not wanting to cause you to stop humming to the songs. 

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

Now was the time. You lived your whole life, wanting this. To die, to find peace, to stop suffering. Five was the key. In fact, he was an obstacle. You couldn’t let him stop the apocalypse. You wanted to die and the apocalypse would grant your wish. There was no way your curse could protect you from that. It hurts.

Pardon the way that I stare

There's nothin' else to compare

The sight of you leaves me weak

There are no words left to speak

But if you feel like I feel

Please let me know that it's real

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You stopped humming, finally noticing that Five had stopped at the side of the road and was watching you intently, a smile at the corner of his lips. You opened your mouth to ask him what was wrong, frowning, until he cut you off.

“I know you don’t remember it because it didn’t yet happen for you, but there was a time when you stopped calling for death and enjoyed living.” 

You froze at his words, wondering if he could read thoughts too. It hurts so much.

“You’re lying.” You couldn’t imagine anything worth enduring your suffering so why would he tell you that? To save his skin?

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

And let me love you, baby

Let me love you

“I’m not. This song was playing on an old iPod when you told me.” You lifted an eyebrow at him, slowly positioning your legs to jump forward to kill him. “If you really think that the apocalypse will kill you, you are wrong. You survived and you met me there. That’s where we became friends.”

“Prove it.” Your heart was beating erratically, desperately wanting his words to be wrong. You wanted to be free. This life hurts. IT HURTS.

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off of you

You'd be like Heaven to touch

I wanna hold you so much

At long last, love has arrived

And I thank God I'm alive

You're just too good to be true

Can't take my eyes off you

Five reached into his pants pocket, taking out a colored photo. The quality wasn’t god, but you could see yourself, curled up against a dark-haired man on a loveseat, holding his free hand while kissing his cheek. His smile reminded you of Five’s. 

Your eyes were fixed on your lips touching his face. How you seemed so unbothered by the fire eating at your nerves. This couldn’t be possible. Even the idea of doing it caused your own pain to accentuate. Ithurtsithurtsithurts-

“I found a disposable camera and used up the film. I kept it and when I came back in 2019 I had it developed.” 

I love you, baby

And if it's quite alright

I need you, baby

To warm the lonely night

I love you, baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

Don't bring me down, I pray

Oh, pretty baby

Now that I've found you, stay

Oh, pretty baby

Trust in me when I say

Oh, pretty baby

The news hit you hard. Your body was shaking uncontrollably, tears ran down your cheeks, sobs escaped your mouth. It has been a while since you’d had your last breakdown although any one of them could compare to this one. At least, before you had hope that something, somewhere you finally end you. Your hopes were now crushed. It. Hurts. 

The pain in your shoulder exploded, earning a cry from your lips. Out of reflex, your fist shot straight ahead, colliding with his shoulder and successfully breaking the contact between the both of you. Quickly, you turned around and shot the door open in a haste, almost running away from him. You wanted to die. You wanted to die. You needed to- A flash of blue followed by Five’s appearance before you stopped you in your tracks abruptly, causing you to fall on your knees for the second time this day. 

Your desperation morphed into pain and your pain into anger. How dare he ruin your life? How dare he crush your hopes? If you could choose, you would have preferred to still have your hopes, at least they kept you going. What were you supposed to do now without anything to live for? Please help me. It hurts. 

“I’ll help you.” His voice was soft, as he was approaching a wounded animal. Well, maybe you were.

You were a wolf whose leg was trapped in a hunter’s trap. You would do anything to free yourself. You were desperate, you were insane, you were intelligent. 

And you were forgetful. 

It wouldn’t hurt to kill him. In due time, you would forget him. Like you forgot everything else until you became what you were now. Humanity’s wrath.

Please, it hurts.

[thisdreamplace]

Hey!

I met my sp almost 2 years ago (2019) and since then i fell in love with him. we went on some dates tho, he rejected me later. at that time i didn't know about the law so i reacted a lot to the 3D and manifested some 3rd parties and arguments with him. he blocked me tho and we went no contact. i found out about loa and it confused me a lot cause everyone said smth different. also i was focused on manifesting a text message rather than living in the end. altough i always tried to shift my focus, i lived in a lot of anxiety. also his social media acc is a trigger point and i try to avoid it for my best.

so he texted me in may 2020 and i was shaking so much (what a dumbass) and we messaged all night, it was some nasty sh*t. at the end of the chat he said that it was all a joke and that it was all his buddy. i felt so hurt and was so shaken up by the fact, that he played me like that? also really naive of me to let it go so far. so i went no contact and texted him one week later with alot anxiety. as u guess, he was so mean and told me some hurtful things. so i let him. i didn't know about neville back then. i went no contact, til he texted me in dec 2020, it was bc i saw his story) he apologized and he was really kind to me. we messaged again at night, but it was some fwb thing again. he told me he wanted to meet up but then he ghosted me. yea.. i texted him and he said he writes with another girl. and i was like "???" i told him good luck and went no contact.. he then unadded me a month later in jan 2021 which threw me away from my mental diet and so on.

What i am trying to say is that i am really disappointed that i can't seem to reach a point where he sees me more than a chick with a body. i wanted him to be interested in me, to show me love. to open up to me, a relationship! i tried all things, methods, meditations, sats. i am always feeling like i am not doing enough , i am searching for evidence i trigger myself with his socialmedia or some things that happened.

i dont know what went wrong. one thing that bothers me also is that he makes music and wants to gain fame which means that girls have his attention or he thinks he is something better. i also have a feeling of i can't reach him cause i feel like i am not that good for him. he is the kind of guy who had a hard life which messed him up.

also i am feeling nostalgic as soon as i am going somewhere. it's a feeling of " i rather be here with him than alone or with anybody else" time is also a factor which messes with my mind. i wanted to move away and idk how that will mess with my manifestation and his music career is also a thing which makes me anxious.

even now i am trying my best, but it seems like everyday is the same day. i wonder if our relationship will even happen..

i am not living in the old story, i just wanted to let it all out and u seem like a person who would get this. i hope u can give me some tips. i don't wanna sound dumb but yea my story is a bit messy. thank u for reading it, i appreciate ur time. u are my last hope!

Hey!!

Thanks for feeling free to share all of this. Sometimes it really does help just to get all this out, so you can continue moving forward freely.

The truth is, I can see where you went wrong clearly. In all honesty, your self concept has been neglected. And remember, when speaking of self concept it is much deeper than self esteem, but of course, why wouldn’t you want a high self esteem too? Anyway, you have put all of your effort into him. Every technique you did was for him, everything you have done has been entirely for him. And yet, the gag is, you are the one who has to change. He cannot possibly change without you having changed first. Because this is your reality and that’s just how the law works.

So, for example, all those times you took anything he’s willing to give you. You listed everything you wanted... but you quickly settled for less. What does that say about your self concept? It has nothing to do with him, although I know we do like to feel comfortable pointing the finger. When it comes to sp manifestations though, I will be completely honest in this way. There’s a big responsibility we have to take that may feel uncomfortable to do, since we are used to living in a world where people hurt us and we feel sad and blame them. We expect them to do something to make us feel better or we cut them off. Though, there is no one to blame here. There’s only full responsibility to take. There’s just you who will need to choose whether you are worth taking the responsibility of changing your life.

So all that being said, here’s some tips, based off what you said. Firstly, I would fully suggest you take a step back and focus on yourself. It’ll be scary, for sure. It’ll be uncomfortable, for sure. Especially because you spent so much time on him. But you have to be honest with yourself. Has that time paid off? The truth is, you have nothing to lose. Either things will stay the same or you will finally experience all you ever wanted to. But you must decide you are worth the risk of leaving those comforts behind.

So, as you focus on yourself you need to be thinking about how you see yourself in relation to the world, first. Are you worth it? Are you able to have anything you want? Are you limited or limitless? Do you see yourself as creator of your reality or a victim to your reality? Do what you need to do to begin answering these questions. You want to move into a state where you are able to answer positively to each of these questions. You do that through persistent practice. Through reminding yourself of who you truly are and how you can have anything you want. How you are worth all of the effort. How your desires are yours already, so you truly have nothing to worry about it. Remember, you do all this for you. Not for anyone or anything else.

As you get comfortable with your self concept and who you truly are as creator of your reality, you could allow yourself to start thinking of your sp again. Not as the center of your world, because you are already the center of the world. There is no one to change but self. But you can begin to lift him up in your mind, as you have lifted yourself up. You wrote exactly how you feel he is, and the truth is, if you continue seeing him like that he has no choice but to play that role. So, choose a new story. How is he really? He is successful in his music career and so what? He is so lucky to have you by his side. All those options you mentioned? They never meant anything, because you are the only one he wants. He doesn’t see anyone other than you. You are first best, you are the only best. He treats you like the God you already are. Because you have been God this entire time, and focusing on your self concept as the first step will help you to accept all these wonderful things about your sp.

I understand your feeling, of feeling nostalgic and just wanting to be with your sp. Let those feelings come up, don’t feel the need to run from them. They’re so valid. People in relationships still miss their person when they’re apart, no? It’s not a big deal. In fact, it’s important not to run from those feelings. Cry it out, throw a fit if you so feel the need to do so. Then brush yourself off and get back into your God energy. Because it’s always waiting for you, at all moments. The unconditional love that your Godself is, is always welcoming you in. You just have to remember to choose to allow yourself to feel it. Time seems so scary in the outer world, but the hard fact is you can be worried about time all day and it’s not going to change anything. So, benefit yourself and actively work on letting it go. Accept it’s not even real, no matter how much your ego will want to hold onto believing it is. Time isn’t running out, everything is happening perfectly Your relationship with your sp is yours and everything has it’s own appointed hour. All you have to do is accept it and allow yourself to enjoy the journey, or even dislike the journey some days if that’s what you’re feeling like. Stop judging everything and allow it to be instead.

You got this!! Hopefully you find this helpful. We all cannot wait to hear your lovely success story!! 💖

[curly-bangtan]

Heatwave Drabble #3: sucker for u

[Heatwave // Godless // Heatwave Drabbles]

^ you’ll have to have read those to understand the relationship!!

Pairing: Taehyung x reader

Summary: As your roommate/fuck buddy/friends with benefits, Taehyung knows he doesn’t have any right to get jealous or possessive when you sleep with other people. But that won’t stop him from being competitive about who can pleasure you better.

Genre: drabble, smut, bit of angst?, fwb au, roommate au

Warnings: boobs worshipping, lots of titty sucking, protected sex woohoo, jealous!Taehyung who doesn’t know that he’s jealous!, classic bratty annoying abrasive behaviour from oc, praise kink (Tae just wants you to tell him he’s the best boy), semi-angry sex?

Word count: 4.9k

A/N: Specifically requested by @mytaetaey :) I hope this was wanted!! Sorry for how annoying they both are -_- The next drabble will contain more plot!!

.

“Oooaah- fuck. Yes, just like that.” Your head sinks into the pillow, eyes rolling back at the obscene way he’s sucking your nipples. But then you quickly look back down at him again, not wanting to miss the chance of embedding this sight into your memory.

One of his hands is cupped under the breast he’s lapping up, the other rubbing your clit the vigorous way that you had taught him. Shit, he’s a fast learner.

“Keep going, Eunwoo.” You push his hair back to reveal his glistening forehead, fingers entangled in his black locks, remaining there. He glances up at you in those big round eyes of his, your nipple trapped between his teeth, and that old friend you like to call fanny flutters come rushing down to your core.

Eunwoo is a quiet shy boy in your university course, always sitting two rows from the front, diligently jotting down impeccable notes in lectures. He’s tall, he’s handsome, and he’s got a body that has every girl (or boy) in your class drooling over. He’s also somehow, by the miracle of god, a virgin. Well, soon not anymore. When you got assigned at partners for this assessed presentation you’re doing, you threw your fist in the air and did a celebratory yodel, because not only is he going to guarantee you a good grade, you also know you finally have the chance to seduce him. Taehyung had high fived you, but then also got kind of annoyed when you wouldn’t stop showing him Eunwoo’s instagram.

There has always been a tacit sexual tension between you two; you would glance at each other in class more than the ordinary, acknowledge each other’s existence yet never making the first step to speaking. When you had invited him over to yours to work on this project, there was a mutually known implication of what this would lead to.

And now he’s on your bed, allowing you to teach him how to pleasure a woman. Some people tend to avoid inexperienced boys, yet you see this as a perfect opportunity to mould them into sex gods. Eunwoo is exploding with potential, so pliable, obedient, eager to please you.

He is a great kisser, which increases the mystery of why and how he could still be a virgin. First, you had taught him about getting a girl wet, teasing her erogenous zones such as her ears, neck, hip. Kissing during foreplay is more than just about the lips, it’s about drawing the person deeper into you, hinting to them what is to come if things are taken to the next stage. Then comes making her wet, grinding into her, rubbing her panties, massaging her breasts.

You soon learnt that Eunwoo is a boob guy. Taehyung is an ass guy, so it took you by surprise when he fixated on sucking your breasts even as you guided him to finger your clit. It fits so well with his innocent-boy image; when you see him latched onto your nipple like this, it almost reminds you of an infantile scene. But no, let’s not go there, you do not have a mommy kink. That’s gross, your power complex is not as overboard as Taehyung’s to require someone to refer to you as their parent.

“Do you like that?” He releases your swollen bud for air, yet fingers don’t slow their pumping. It’s a genuine question, unlike the taunting of Taehyung when he tries to coax praise from you.

“Yes, you’re learning so quickly.” You pinch his chin between your fingers, watching the shyest smile spread across his lips at your reply.

God, he’s a cute thing.

.

There’s loud music coming from your room. Sexy music. Taehyung smiles to himself as he kicks off his shoes at the front door and swings his bag onto the couch.

As he pads closer to your room, his attention falls to a faint moaning that doesn’t take him half a second to recognise; he knows your moans when he hears it. Are you… masturbating? It’s not unusual for either one of you to go solo and get yourselves off every now and then. After all, self care is important. But it’s an infrequent occurrence, even for Taehyung who used to wank five times a day on average at the age of 13. He much prefers your mouth nowadays.

The thought of you touching yourself, too impatient for him to get home is really hot though.

Your door is slightly open, sound echoing towards him, beckoning him to follow. It isn’t until he is peering through the gap that he registers there are two sets of breathing coming from inside, the other very distinctly male.

From the door, Taehyung sees you sprawled out on your back, breasts being devoured by a black haired boy who’s running his condom-clad dick up your slit. “Yeah, like that, tease it.” You sigh into your pillow. Your fingers grip onto his dark tufts as your eyes shut in pleasure, a scene that both arouses Taehyung and makes him frown.

Why is this boy sucking your tits so much? If it were Taehyung, he would flip you over, tie your wrists up, spank your red, and tease your clit with his tongue and tip until you’re begging for him to drive his cock into you.

This boy looks like a baby suckling at his mother’s breast. It’s weird. Taehyung almost yells for him to stop.

Your eyes open and lock with his, widening a fraction at his sudden presence outside your room. Taehyung feels embarrassed, worse than being caught watching porn by his dad, because here, you’re his porn. But your face remains passive, nonchalant. You smile and do a quick wave at him in greeting.

Have you two really demolished any boundaries between each other that you’re not even fazed that he is witnessing you about to be fucked?

Taehyung waves back, but doesn’t smile. He’s never been able to force a smile. This boy is annoying him, he’s doing it all wrong.

You motion for your roommate to close the door for you, all the while praising the boy, “Fuck, you’re doing well, Eunwoo.”

Oh, so this is Eunwoo, your partner for this project assignment. How disappointing.

Taehyung reaches to shut the door as you requested, since it’s really none of his business, yet he finds his grip on the knob tightening as he’s unable to look away from the two of you. Eunwoo is being too docile, vanilla, he doesn’t even know what the fuck he’s doing! He is trying to push his member into your wet entrance, but it slips. The secondhand embarrassment hits Taehyung in the face. This guy is a fumbling mess, how could you stand him?

He glances down at his own bulge, then back at Eunwoo’s length, smirking knowing that he has an inch on him at least.

And so Taehyung takes it upon himself to swing the door wide open, announcing his presence as he storms in with overconfidence.

Eunwoo curses and scrambles to throw the covers over the both of you. “What the fuck!”

“Taehyung!” You shriek, eyes frantically searching his for a reason for his interruption.

“Get out.” Taehyung and Eunwoo say to each other at the same time, then freezing at each other’s audacity to do so.

“You get out, dude, what the fuck?” Eunwoo sits up beside you, straightening against Taehyung’s tall standing frame that towers over the bed. This kid has some nerve.

“You get out. I live here.”

“No, you get out. Can’t you see that we're in the middle of something?”

“No, you get out. Why are your clothes off when you’re meant to be doing a project? That’s inappropriate behaviour.”

“No, you-”

“Shut up, the both of you!” You yell over their arguing. They both cease their mouths immediately and turn to you, slightly scared like kindergarten boys being told off. Your eyes are burning holes into your roommate. “Taehyung, what are you doing?”

“Breathing. Blinking. Standing. Talking.”

You’re going to fucking kill him, you swear to god. He’s got that look on his face when he knows he’s being purposely difficult, jaws clenched, chin tilted an angle upwards. There’s a spark in his eyes that are still targeted at Eunwoo, as if he’s assessing the boy head to toe, challenging him.

Having known your best friend for this long, you know he won’t back down. So you sigh, turn to poor Eunwoo, “I’m so sorry about this. It’s probably best for you to leave, I’ll deal with him.”

There’s a flash of hurt in his eyes, but it was either going to be Eunwoo or Taehyung you’d offend, and you’d much rather it be him. “Okay.”

“I’ll text you.” You watch him gather his clothes from the floor, awkward hand over his crotch. In your periphery you see Taehyung tense at your words, his attention still unyieldingly fixed on the guy. Why is he like this? Why? Aren’t guys meant to be weirded out by the sight of each other’s dicks? Why is Taehyung still staring him down like that as if he were your guard dog?

Neither of you say anything more until the front door of your place falls shut at Eunwoo’s departure. After throwing a large shirt over your nudity, you pin Taehyung with a hard angry glare.

Defiant as he currently is, he glares back as if he hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Well?” You demand. “What shit are you pulling?”

Taehyung doesn’t move from where he stands at the end of your bed. Out of habit, your eyes flicker to his bulge, and though it isn’t fully hard, there is a slight prominence. “I was saving you from that amateur, you’re welcome.”

You scoff. “Ama- Ha! Taehyung, oh my god. Not this again.” Running your hands through your hair, you stand up on the mattress so your height now exceeds his. You don’t miss the way his focus momentarily falls to the edge of your top that hangs just enough to cover your ass, eyes running down your legs then back up to your face. “Yes, he was a virgin, but I’ve said this before. I like it when they’re like that!”

“What is there to like about a virg? He would have lasted 2 minutes, maybe even less.” Taehyung huffs in exasperation, unable to apprehend your preference.

“I like teaching them what to do when they’re inexperienced. I like it when they do exactly what I tell them to do, in precisely the way I want. You know that I like being in control too. You can’t just assume I wasn’t enjoying myself because you thought he didn’t know what he was doing. I was teaching him!” It endlessly frustrates you how Taehyung imposes his own mindset onto you. He thinks that just because he likes to be dominant during sex, it means that you always like to be dominated and that anyone who a tad less alpha than him isn’t doing it right. Does it ever cross his mind that it isn’t the only way to pleasure you?

“Yeah right, you were enjoying yourself. Tell that to me again when he blows his load before he even puts it in.” The jeering in his voice is winding you up. About anything else, he is never this bitchy; yet when it comes you your sexual partners, it’s like he’s your mother picking a husband for you.

“First, you’re not in a position to make fun of anyone ‘blowing their load before putting it in’.” A faint blush creeps beneath his honey skin at the memory he wishes to bury. “Second of all, I was enjoying myself. A lot. You’re not the only guy who can satisfy me you know?” Your volume is rising along with your temper, you know you should rein it in, keep it in check because you despise fighting with Taehyung. You rarely properly argue about anything serious; it’s always you getting annoyed at him but ten minutes later succumbing to his grovelling puppy eyes. This time, you don’t want to forgive him right away - he needs to know that this behaviour needs to stop.

“Okay fine, but I am the guy who satisfies you best.” Taehyung places his hands on his hips stubbornly, gazing up at you as he takes a stride closer to the bed.

Yup, so this is definitely about his pride. Like you, Taehyung is competitive even if he doesn’t wish to admit it. He likes to be the best, the favourite, have his ego stroked through praises and constant affirmation.

“How are you so sure about that?” You ask just to tug on his nerve.

He frowns at you, frozen for a moment, the clockwork in his mind slowly ticking as he tries to grasp what you are saying. “What do you mean…”

“I mean, how are you so sure that you’re the best sex I’ve ever had?” Fighting a sly smile, you raise your brow tauntingly at him. If he loves to push your buttons, why don’t you push his?

“W-Well- What do you mean!? Are you saying that I’m not?” Shocked, Taehyung’s mouth forms a pouted upside-down ‘D’. The insecurity flooding his face drops an inkling of guilt amidst your torment, but not enough to make you feel bad. But ha! How full of himself must he be to have been so certain in his abilities. For all he knows, you could have been faking your orgasms all along.

“I’m just saying,” you step in front of him until he’s arm’s length away, and you take his soft cheeks between your fingers, “that the way Eunwoo was playing with my nipples made me feel things that I haven’t felt before.”

You want to take it back the moment you say it, because you immediately realise what this is going to entail. Taehyung doesn’t back down from a challenge like this.

Wordlessly, he yanks you towards him and hoists you up from your rear. Your legs lock around his waist instinctively to prevent yourself from falling just as your arms fly around his neck, nose hitting the top of his head hard enough for you to yelp. His face is buried in the cushion of your chest as he carries you, scuttling on his knees, up the bed.

He falls on top of you, and it feels like his weight has broken three of your ribs and crushed half a lung. “What are you doing!?” You know what he is doing, or about to do.

For a drawn out pause, he stares intently into you, a carnal glint in his dark pupils. Gone is the bratty whiny childish Taehyung. In his place is a dangerous territorial animal who will fight to prove that he’s king of the jungle. “You did not just say that.” Face inches apart, you feel the fumes of his irritation radiate from him, his eyes boring an assertiveness into yours. His jaw is clenched, and despite this moment, you want to run your finger along its sharp edge. Your legs gradually slide down his back and fall into an open formation, and you’re keenly aware of the position of his groin so conveniently pressed into yours.

Why is he hard? Why is he hard? He isn’t supposed to be hard when you’re arguing.

And why does his stiffness make your clit twitch in anticipation?

“You made me hit my nose!” You try to avert both your attention to something else. Something that’s not the precariousness of the sexual tension in the air. You aren’t meant to fuck Taehyung today, goddammit. It was meant to be Eunwoo.

“You deserved it.” He grumbles, but kisses the tip of your nose nonetheless. “You’re going to regret saying that…” Frustration audible in his breath, Taehyung traces his lips to the corner of your own, a spot where he knows sends a tingle straight to your core.

“Saying what? That Eunwoo is the best at worshipping my tits?” Someone should really gag you before you keep running your mouth and do some actual damage to Taehyung’s ego. But you’re really fucking salty that Taehyung had just deprived you of some potentially amazing sex with the hottest nerd in your class because his competitiveness got in the way.

Silence.

And it is when Taehyung is completely still and quiet that you know you should be slightly afraid.

“Worshipping?” He lifts up from your face to reveal his blazing glare. “You want worshipping?” His fingers underneath your thighs rake on your skin, claws digging into you. “Fine, I’ll show you worshipping.”

That’s not a suggestion, it’s a promise.

Peeling up your shirt, to expose your front to the cold, you watch him slightly stunned as his eyes roam across your body lewdly. Your core twists and ties at the pure venery in his expression, hungry and desperate to prove himself to you.

A small noise leaves you involuntarily when he takes your breast in his mouth without warning, fingers darting seductively down your abdomen, arriving at your bare awaiting folds. His teeth scrape against the tender skin as he nips on the supply flesh around your nipple while his free hand cups under your other breast. When the rough pad of his tongue laps at your bud at the same time as his thumb rubbing on your clit, your whole body convulses under him.

“Fuck.” You curse, peering down at him to see satisfaction in his eyes that are fixed at yours to watch your reaction. Taehyung likes boobs as much as the next guy, but his focus is usually predominantly your ass and pussy. This much attention channelled to your boobs is a rarity from him.

There’s a very distinct difference in the pleasure one receives from the stimulation of nipples. It’s almost like welcoming the cold, as your body braces at the assail on those highly sensitive bundle of nerves concentrated at one point. It tickles in a way that makes the back of your scalp tingle and your toes curl. Your eyes threaten to shut from the overwhelming arousal, but you force them open, force yourself not to break eye contact with Taehyung.

Because there’s something so intimate about eye contact during any sexual act, as if your souls are reaching into each other and locking hands. And refusing to letting go.

Your fingers as usual find their way to his messy mane, gripping on his wavy tresses while his tongue mercilessly grazes your bud, not to mention his fingers now slowly sliding into you. You’re wet, embarrassingly wet, residual from Eunwoo but also from Taehyung’s display of need to impress you.

Then his mouth leaves your nipple, allowing a gush of cool air to prickle your goosebumped skin. “Do you like that?” Your memory flickers to the exact same words tumbling out of Eunwoo, yet this time impacts you so differently, so much more forcefully. Fuck, you hate that Taehyung’s right.

“Yeah…” You whisper. The smug smirk you’ve come to know so well reveals itself. “Take off your clothes, Taehyung.”

You can’t put your finger on it, but Taehyung doing anything to you as a different effect from anyone else. Even as he removes his shirt, your heart can’t help but quicken at how hot he unintentionally makes such a mundane gesture look. Maybe it’s because he’s your best friend, but it feels less superficial, rather, it touches a more profound depth in your core.

Twisting back, you pull out your drawer and take out a condom. Taehyung, naked on his knees, watches as your roll it onto his swollen throbbing cock, an action you’re so familiar with that you could do it in pitch dark. He always makes you put it on him, ‘it feels so much better’ apparently. And even having fucked so many times before, the sight of how hard you made him causes your cunt to weep.

After resuming the missionary position you were in, you expect him to pound into you without warning, he loves a surprise entrance after all. Except he returns to your tits and plant big wet kisses on your smooth softness. “See? I can worship your boobs if you want me to. So who’s better, me or him?”

And just because you haven’t had enough of teasing him, as well as getting teased, you say, “Him.”

Taehyung’s kissing ceases. And another one of those still scary silences follows. Then he angrily takes the flesh of your breast in his mouth and start sucking rosy colours, both hands groping you this time.

It’s an unspoken rule that you never leave hickeys on each other. Because why would you? You’re only casually fucking, there’s no ownership whatsoever. Plus how are either of you supposed to sleep with anyone else if there’s a blaring red splodge on your neck?

But this time, he’s marking you.

“Taehyung, what are you doing?!”

He releases your breast and assesses his piece of art. You glimpse down too, to find a crimson cloud pigmented beside your nipple. Oh for fuck’s sake. “Tell me I’m better.”

“You’re not-” Eyes wolfish, he dives back in to bite another fresh mark near the first. His fingers walk down your torso and tease open your folds, smearing your dampness all over your clit before pushing his digits up into your mouth. You suck, lapping up your own taste.

“Only I can make you this wet. Admit it.” There are now two bruises on your breast, but rather than getting vexed by his display of territorialism, it makes your cunt flutter.

“Since when was your ego so fragile.” You taunt, taking his rubbered dick into your grip and guiding him towards your slit.

“It isn’t,” he refutes, sighing as you swirl his tip around your clit, “I just want you to be honest with yourself and admit that no one makes you feel better than I do.”

“You’re actually- argmph-” You make a sound of pleasure as we eases into you slowly, his body tensing at your warmth embracing his cock. “So full of yourself.”

Well, to be factually accurate, you’re so full of him this very second.

Taehyung glances down at his length buried inside you, but you tilt his face to look at you. Eye contact. When he starts to move his hips back and forth, you see the hunger in his eyes, the hunger for you and only you. Amongst all things, you truly enjoy watching his features screw in pleasure as he pounds into you like a rabid animal. You feel powerful, content.

“Fu-uck. And. You’re. In. Denial. Baby.” He pants out each word at every thrust. The name drives you wild, you don’t know what it is, but it always makes your walls clench.

Lowering his frame, Taehyung rests his forehead on yours, his thumb gliding into your mouth for you to suckle on. You hum at the punching pressure in your core, entangling your innards.

And because you feel nice, mostly due to his covetous desperation, you whimper, “Fine. You fuck- me- so well.”

At your final admission, Taehyung’s eyes light up like a forest fire, pace quickening instantly as if energise by your words. The purity of his boyish victorious smile paints an ironic juxtaposing scene. “What else?” He urges.

What else? Good god, this man is drinking up the praise like wine.

“No one makes me feel as good as you do.” You huff, grabbing onto the back of his hair, your warm breaths mingling between your mouths. He shuts his eyes to bask in the praise, so you continue. “No one makes me cum even remotely like you do. No one makes me squirt except you.”

“Fuck…” His brows pinch, concentrating in the ecstatic friction of your cunt around him. He begins to twiddle your nipples between his finger; your neck immediately gives in and rolls back as he crudely pinches the buds of sensitivity, an uncontrollable tremor unearthing in your thighs.

“No one compares to your cock, the way you fuck me until I cry.” Taehyung moans as you keep lauding him. This initially was meant to mock him, except you find that everything you’re saying rings completely true.

“Yeah? You like it when I fuck you until you cry?” His hand closes around your throat, the other still toying with your nipple so sadistically. At the restriction of air, you feel your eyes water, vision obstructed by the emerging tears.

Fuck Kim Taehyung for how good he fucks you.

It’s impressive how his stamina has not dwindled one bit, but rather the speed and force at which he is ramming is even increasing. The pressure behind your walls are making you insane now, you feel the looming of your inevitable release, inching closer bit by bit. “Aaooh. Daddy, keep going. Your cock feels so good.” You feel like a pornstar with what you’re saying, but at least no one else can make you feel like a pornstar except Taehyung. The word daddy escaped so easily from your lips that you want to kick yourself. Why are you such a docile creature these days?

But then he plunges into you particularly hard and you remember why.

“I’m gonna come.” You cry, literally cry, as a tear of extreme exhilaration rolls out. “You’re gonna make me come.”

“Baby-” He sighs onto your cheek, grabbing your marked breast while he chases his climax.

And then it hits you both, one after another, the explosion of pleasure inside your cunt, swimming up your entire body like a ripple. Matched with the stimulation of your nipple, you cry out as you feel yourself twisting under your skin, unravelling. A throaty groan erupts from his throat as he spurts out his high, mouth clamping down onto your breast a second later. The vibrations of his exhale penetrate into your chest; your ears strain to hear a high-pitched whimper of bliss hidden by his baritone.

The couple of minutes after orgasming is always a blur to you. You always need a moment to piece your shattered mind and body back together. Taehyung is panting heavily beside you. He did all the work today, you’ll be sure to return the favour next time.

You realise that you didn’t kiss once throughout that whole intercourse. And for some reason, it kind of bothers you. You also realise that, in your post-orgasm haze, you’re wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face onto his shoulder, his coat of sweat cooling you.

Ew, what are you doing?

But before you can take back that action and roll away, he pulls you into him and nuzzles into your crown. Still naked, your breasts feel tender, thighs sore, as your damp skin stick to his.

After a silent minute to regain strength, he speaks. “That Eunwoo wouldn’t have been able to do that.” It’s a statement, but he makes it sound more like a question. Still, he’s seeking your affirmation. And you feel slightly bad about how insecure he is about this.

“He wouldn’t.” You soothe him, half your attention on the vibrant hickeys on your boob. Should you scold him? Hmm, you feel like you should, but you don’t. Post-sex Taehyung is too soft.

His long fingers are stroking your back - his classic aftercare, it makes your lids heavy. Taehyung almost always falls asleep after sex, while you never let yourself; sleeping together after sex feels too… intimate. At the end of the day, you’re just fuck buddies, there are boundaries.

“So you won’t fuck around with him again?”

Instantly you look up at him. Taehyung’s chocolate brown eyes are gazing tenderly at you, expectant, hoping for the answer he wishes to hear. You feel a kernel of annoyance. Taehyung doesn’t get to ask you not to sleep with a specific person, especially because you would never ask it of him. But you also know that arguing with him now would hurt him, like taking your dog to a dog park and feeding a treat to another puppy right in front of it. You don’t understand his fixation on this random boy all of a sudden, but you guess you’ll just have to let it slide.

You both are aware of this dangerous game you play, the thread-thin line you walk. It’s fickle. One wrong step, one fight and everything between you will fall apart.

So you just sigh and say, “Fine, I won’t. Happy? You’re the best boy. Happy?”

The twinkle in his eye followed by the babiest giggle threatens to nick your heart. His cheeks always rise like two loaves of bread when he does that genuine innocent smile like that. “Am very happy, yes. Because you don’t need to fuck him when you have me right here.”

Inexplicably, his words induces a weird feeling in your stomach. You can’t tell if it’s because you’re irritated by how clingy he is, or endeared.

Since this day, you uncharacteristically told Eunwoo that you should keep your relationship strictly as project partners, as much as it pained you to let go of such great potential. And since this day, Taehyung makes a point to never neglect your breasts again.

.

@taexxxiiaa @shookpreme @taetaeobsessed @tangledsparkles @nonexistentfucks @evilkookie @nbiased95 @taehyungmakesmeoof @itscalledgayhoney @tahaing @deliciouslydisturbed365 @expensive-bangtan-girl @jwlmnbt @herakimkim @dnyad @kaepjjang365 @expensive-bangtan-girl@gingerpeachtae @spring2787 @askingtheimportantthingshere @casualminiaturetimemachine @xblackclover13x @vasysauce @deadinsidebitch2412 @emiyooa @i-dont-even-know-fck @chimycthulhu @gixanjos @hisunshiine @xtaeyi @softjellyjimin @bluemooncnblue

[jeonjeonggukenergy]

Anti-Hero

summary ~ in search of wine at a party that’s so not your scene, you run into jungkook, the weeb from your film class, and become determined to learn just how much he lives up to his big reputation.

pairing ~ jungkook x reader

genre ~ fluff, smut (coming in ch3!) - college!au

wordcount ~ 2.3k

warnings ~ pretty much n/a, mentions of drinking and light smut

a/n ~ v excited for these lil dorks! i thought about combining this with the upcoming chapter but it felt right on its own and i wanted to go ahead and post an update for yall haha. ch 3 will most definitely have some serious smut to look forward to 👀 thank yall for reading, i love and appreciate any form of support or feedback so so much, so feel free to msg me or send me an ask abt whatever you want! 🥰 hope u enjoy this chapter!!!

previous: chapter 1 ~ next: chapter 3 | chapter 4 (coming soon!)

~ read on ao3 ~

CHAPTER 2 ~ cowboy bebop & chill

You couldn't stop thinking about Jungkook. Every time you brought the enamel of your favorite mug to your lips, teeth knocking the rim as you exhaled to cool off your tea, it called back the click of his earrings in your mouth. Whenever you reached behind your ear to tuck away the hair you'd impulsively cropped to your chin this year, it hit the same spot you'd sucked into a bruise on his neck and you shivered. Even your slight headache thanks to the shitty vodka from the pregame reminded you of the wine you'd sought out from him in the first place and never fucking got to drink. 

You found yourself reading over your responses to each other's discussion posts from your film class, trying to find any more justification for this sudden crush than the drunken flirtation that mortified you as soon as you remembered it sober. He did seem to like your directness...but you could easily ascribe that to his similarly loosened-up state. Scanning through your reflections on The Shawshank Redemption and Casablanca, you painstakingly overanalyzed every smiley face and "I loved that part too!" Could he have been into you at all before this? Or had he just eyed you for another quick fuck at a party? Shit, what if he hated you for working him up and then leaving? If he wanted to, you knew he would have easily found someone else to finish the night with. But what if he still held it against you? The image of him bitterly turning aside to find another girl in the crowd, with your hickey still fresh on his jaw, turned your stomach more than you wanted to admit.

Shaking your head with a grounding exhale, you reminded yourself that whoever else he did or didn't hook up with was none of your business. Plus, he seemed like a genuinely nice guy and probably didn't hate you in the first place. Wow, the bar really was so fucking low. Maybe that was part of the reason you were never that bold with boys. Every classmate you'd fallen for so far at college had remained innocently unaware of your feelings, likely because you never worked up the courage to clearly express them. You hadn't even been trying this time, though—this semester had been so busy you'd barely had time for your friends, much less crushes. And now your one blowoff class had become your biggest distraction.

Jungkook, a communications & media major, couldn't afford to lose as much focus in this class as you. Normally near front-and-center, he sat all the way in the corner of the last row, wary of imaginary stares burning through the hopefully-opaque-enough curtain of his hair. Even the risk of zoning out staring at the back of your head stressed him out less than the thought of you doing the same to him.

You walked into class through the back right entrance today so you'd pass Jungkook in the front row, though you could have gone straight to your usual left-side seat from the main door. Knowing you'd never summon the courage to talk to him, you still couldn't help wanting to see his face. You didn't know just what you were looking for—some kind of confirmation or dismissal that would let you just move on with your dry-ass life—but any reason to catch a glimpse of Jungkook was a good one. Today, though, he sat far closer to the entrance than you'd expected, and his proximity stopped you in your tracks a few feet behind him. Eyes dragging down the sculpted form under his soft black sweatsuit, your stare traced the veins in his forearms to reach the hands in his lap. Catching a half-page cartoon ass in your view of the manga he gazed at intently, a snort-laugh escaped you, the sound setting him on high alert. He snapped the book shut, spinning around with eyes wide and still-long hair an understandable mess for a Monday.

"I'm so—"

"I'm so sorry!"

You both shoved out the words at the same time.

A pause swelled between you, eye contact maintained as your mouths fluttered open and shut like fish. Even awkward and off-guard like this, he was just so damn pretty. It felt unreasonable for him to seem as flustered around you as you were around him. Finally, you spoke again, solely to force the conversation forward and put you both out of your misery.

"W-what do you have to be sorry for? I'm the one who, like—ugh, I was drunk, I'm so sorry, I never would have been so, yknow, if I was sober, like that's not me I promise, I really didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or—"

"No-no-no-no-no!" Jungkook cut you off, dismissing your barely intelligible apology. Before you could cut him off in return and continue, he held up both hands between you, his eyebrows knit together in a pleading expression. "Are you kidding me? Seriously, I feel so bad, I was kind of drunk too, I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable! Please, you have nothing to worry about, it was, uh...I was...good...if...you were." He grew shyer as he continued, drifting off as a hand reached back to rub his neck. A light laugh. "You did make me have to keep my hair long for another few days, though. It's gotten so annoying to take care of, I was planning on cutting it right after the costume."

This admission perked up all your earlier curiosities about him, and a cautious smile spread over your face as Jungkook unconsciously reminded you that he was, in fact, a total dork, rather than the fuckboy you'd irrationally feared him to be.

"Wait, hold up," you snorted again. Gently. "You're telling me you grew out your hair for three, maybe four, months...for a Cowboy Bebop costume?"

"Hey, it was free and way less lame than a wig," he defended himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, he fidgeted uncomfortably, face blushing into a grin as you continued to giggle at him.

"You are such a fucking weeb," you accused lightheartedly.

Jungkook furrowed his brows back together, an anxious hand grazing the spot where you'd marked him again. "Well, you recognized my Spike costume, at least," he pouted. "You're not all innocent."

"I watched one episode with my friend, and it was dubbed," you downplayed. "Isn't watching dubs instead of subs a crime for real anime fans?"

"Actually," his eyes lit up at your rhetorical question. "The dub of Cowboy Bebop is excellent. It's pretty universally considered better than watching the OG with subs. You're right though, that is the general rule."

"Oh man, who knew." Looking down, grinning, you tried to hide how endeared you were by his earnestness. "Well, it was pretty cool, not gonna lie. I guess I kind of get the appeal."

"Would you want to start watching the rest sometime? That's one I just never get tired of," he blurted, then blushed, closing his mouth and working his lips between his teeth as his eyes stayed wide and on you. Jungkook's heart accelerated in his chest, a fist opening and closing at his hip as he tried to decide whether he regretted taking a chance on the question.

You instantly diverted all your mental energy from hoping he couldn't sense your attraction to massively overthinking your response. This was a "Netflix and chill" kind of invite, right? If he wanted you, of course you wanted him, but you had to be sure before you did something else stupid and risked having to find another discussion board buddy.

"Um...yeah, sure," you accepted. "I have to ask, though, do you mean, like...Cowboy Bebop and chill?" You raised an eyebrow, trying to look bolder than you felt. "Or...Cowboy Bebop and just...Cowboy Bebop?"

"I..." Mirroring your playful grin, Jungkook shrugged, not wanting to look like a fuckboy if he answered with the first option but also wondering—were you actually interested in watching this anime with him? The possibility puzzled him, the same way it confused you how he could go bold and then back to his shy weeb-ass self within seconds. You shrugged too, with an anxious exhale of a laugh.

"That was...weird to just say like that, sorry. We can just see where it goes, whatever you want," you backtracked, full of faux-nonchalance. The Google Calendar schedule on your phone suddenly became very interesting. "We could do another day if that works for you, but I'm free after this class once I write my discussion post—I don't have any other homework or meetings today for once."

He nodded quickly, eyebrows up. Swallowing, Jungkook saw the opportunity to show a little more initiative and seized it. "We could do that together even, 'cause we usually jump off each other anyway. So you can come over right after class if you want." He glanced up and to the left for a quick mental inventory. "Oh shit, wait, but I seriously need to clean my apartment first, can we do more like dinner time tonight? You can just come over for ramen or takeout if you want, or eat first or whatever."

"Yeah, that's fine!" you agreed warmly. "Ramen and homework, two birds with one scone. I should probably, like...get your number? So you can send me your address when you're ready or something?" You didn't want to sound too desperate, especially since you knew he was used to it, but you found yourself weirdly excited to experience something he so obviously loved. If you got dicked down too, even better, but you were definitely willing to wait on that part, especially now that this first sober conversation had restored your inhibitions. He had this slightly shy sweetness about him that just made you want to make him happy somehow. You wanted to see more of his cheesy little smile. You wanted to hear the bright laugh that occasionally rang out at the most inappropriate times, during Citizen Kane or attendance. You wanted to watch his light pink lips fall open in bliss as you kissed down his sensitive neck to the trim of his worn-in hoodie...

"Yeah sure, here." The quick touch of his hand over yours snapped you out of your thoughts as he took your phone, ready to type in his number, and—

"Wait, did you say 'two birds with one scone'? Not 'one stone'?"

You blushed furiously. Somehow him calling you out on your quirks embarrassed you more than the indecent daydream he'd interrupted. "Okay, so I saw this tweet a while back where they said 'feed two birds with one scone' to replace 'kill two birds with one stone,' I think it was just some vegan troll being all like 'don't talk about killing birds!' but it stuck with me because I just really fucking love scones."

"You...really fucking love scones?" he repeated in slight sarcasm, eyes down on your phone. You grew even shyer, but continued.

"Yeah, I bake a lot and they're my favorite thing to make. The flavor possibilities are endless and they last for days so I just keep them on hand for breakfast and snacks and to give out to friends. And they go with tea, which is my other favorite thing." Ooh, was he a tea person? Should you bring some tonight? Something earthy, to go with your ramen. Your go-to green sencha, or maybe chrysanthemum? Chamomile?

Jungkook held your phone back out in front of you, but waited silently for you to notice, enjoying the view of wheels turning in your head as you pondered tea pairings. This was the you he was used to, daydreaming in class and going on tangents as dorky as his in discussions. Even from a distance, he'd noticed you consistently gave off a vibe somewhere between absentminded professor and grandma, and this confirmation made you even cuter to him. But the hair still falling over his ears wouldn't let him forget his new physical proof of another side to you.

You finally collected your phone with a mumbly "Oh right, yeah, cool, thanks," that you prayed sounded more chill to him than it did to you.

"I just texted myself, so I have your number too now, and I'll just send you my address when I'm ready, and, uh...yeah!" he rambled a bit in response.

You nodded, confirming. "I'll see you tonight!"

"Yeah, see you tonight."

Jungkook watched you walk to your desk, silently admiring your ass and allowing himself only a moment to savor the memory of half of it filling his hand. A strange nervousness tingled through him. He hadn't been able to stop thinking about you all weekend either, and now he had a chance to get closer to you than ever before. He hoped, more than he could remember hoping for anything else, that this would go well, one way or another. He had no idea what you wanted with him, but you had him questioning everything he'd thought he wanted. Easing open his laptop, he pulled up your last discussion board response to him, signed off with a smiley face but backwards.

I like the way you think. (:

He turned his head to read it right-side-up, letting his face scrunch into a smile you wouldn't see.

Meanwhile, though the film thrilled you, you struggled to stay facing forward for the duration of class. You suspected the plot of Rear Window was simply unsettling you, but you swore you could feel Jungkook's eyes on your back. No, he was probably actually watching the movie as usual, or reading his manga if not. You were definitely just being paranoid. Definitely. Probably. Right?

next chapter 

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Hey! I saw you were taking requests :3 would you mind writing (hcs, scenario, anything!) a thing where, shortly pre-OVW recall, McCree and his old teammate (f or neutral pronouns are fine but it’s up to u!!) accidentally meet again after he left without warning? Bonus points for “I thought u were dead/I was never gonna see you again” type stuff :p thanks! Sorry if this was confusing!

{This was, like, super fun to write? I did kinda flip part of the script, but it still fits what you asked for (hopefully). Minor warning for implied alcoholism though, oops. It can also be read as more of a “bars exist for brawls” than “alcohol is my coping method” though, so maybe that’s not as bad??? IDK, at least the ending feels cute.} {-J}

After the fall of Overwatch and its subdivisions, there were certain things that you had been forced to accept: Dozens of your friends and coworkers had died, you were out of a job, and everything you had worked so hard for had crumbled into oblivion. So yeah, shit, you ended up drinking away your pain more than once. At this point you weren’t even sure how many places you were banned from. Still, you held onto the pride that came from never starting any fights, instead waiting for some asshole to decide he wanted to rumble with an ex-Blackwatch agent. It was messy, dangerous, and only added to your nasty reputation.

Few organizations would even think of hiring you. Did that make your drinking worse, or did your drinking make the job search harder?... It wasn’t something you wanted to dwell on, especially considering how desperately you were trying to change things. Mercenary work hadn’t suited you for long, as all your clients were faceless, mysterious forces pulling strings from the shadows. How could you trust that they weren’t like Talon?... Or like Blackwatch had become? In the end you had been forced to slink back into the shadows, praying to whatever gods may be that you could still do some good for the world.

That was a couple years ago. You had changed your name, traded out your old gear for something less suspicious, and set yourself up along the halfway point of Route 66. The area was known for its problems with gangs, violence, and a general lack of government intervention. Sure, the road itself spanned across eight different states, but most of it had been in a state of disrepair for a few decades now. The Omnic Crisis was the final push that sealed the region’s fate. Or, at least, it had been. Some people still cared.

Like you. Why else would you be here, now, scanning the horizon, a beer in one hand, binoculars in the other? There certainly weren’t any good birdwatching spots nearby. Just a rundown gas station perfect for staging ambushes, an old school diner with shitty coffee, and a dusty, dirty crevice up high, wonderful for keeping an eye on it all. You didn’t like it up here, but it was the only discreet place to perform surveillance on the local miscreants. 

Apparently a new gang was starting to harass people in the area, despite the proximity to Deadlock turf, and were trying to sell “insurance”. Understandably, that really pissed you off. Sweet-talking one of the locals had gotten you insight on the gang’s general daily routine. Nothing too specific, unfortunately. Now all you had to do was wait for the scum to show up so you could pound them into the dirt.

Taking a quick swig from your beer, you settled in a little, preparing to wait for who knows how long….

    Dust flew into the air like a trail of smoke, blurring your vision but not deterring you in the slightest. You slipped around your target, barely avoiding his second kick, before slamming your elbow into the back of his head. Sure enough he went crashing down with a thud. More dirt was kicked up in the process. At least it made it a little harder for the gang members still outside to target you. Another quick dash landed you behind cover, where you could finally take a moment to breathe.

    “Damn it,” you grumbled, hearing yet another bullet whiz past your hiding spot. There were still four or five gunmen outside. Truthfully, that was the total number of people you had expected to find, not just the backup boys. Sure, you had prepared for unforeseen hiccups, but apparently not enough. In over your head, stuck sitting like a duck, reminded more and more of the old days. Shit, you missed your teammates. Normally Jesse or Genji would have saved your ass by now.

    You missed them. So much, in fact, that you were pretty sure you just heard Jesse’s signature “high noon” line. It almost made you feel like you were a bit more tipsy than you had thought. When the sound of a revolver firing reached your ears, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had actually died; if so, this was the weirdest form of afterlife known to mankind. Curiosity ended up getting the best of you. Crawling to the side, you made sure not to reveal any part of yourself to your enemy, working your way towards the building’s secondary entrance. That was still within the gang’s line of sight, but you hoped it was far enough to the side that they wouldn’t immediately notice you poking around the corner.

    Sure enough, nobody shot at you when you turned the corner. Someone did, however, raise a silver revolver in your direction. Air got caught in your lungs as you stared down that ever-so-familiar barrel. Relief started to flood your chest… until you realized that the gunman wasn’t wavering in his stance. Your gaze follows up his arm, to his face, and you suddenly wish you weren’t wearing this stupid goddamn mask.

    “Hold it, buddy, unless you want to end up like your compadres back there,” Jesse McCree drawls, tipping his head back towards the fallen gang members. Evidently he hadn’t seen you beating the crap out of the ones inside. Still, you raised your hands slowly, showing your lack of weapons. “There we go. Now, take off that there lil’ mask, nice and easy, alright?” You complied, of course, tossing it to the side before throwing a grin in Jesse’s direction. His reaction made you really, really wish you had brought a camera. The normally smooth and put-together cowboy is now slack jawed, a sense of wonder (and something else…?) in his eyes. Soon your name drops from his lips, whispered like a sacred prayer.

    “It’s good to see you too, Jesse,” you manage to reply, still grinning like a fool. Hardly a moment passes before the wind is suddenly knocked out of you. Jesse had holstered his gun, closed the distance between the two of you, and pulled you into a hug in a matter of just a couple seconds. The action catches you by surprise, now making you the one to choke on the words caught in your throat. Still, you manage to hug him back, leaning in to gently rest your head against his chest.

    “Goddamnit, who gave you the right to surprise me like this?” He asks after a few moments of silence, his voice on the edge of breaking. His grip was tight, like a man desperate to keep his sanity clutching onto a lifetime of coping methods. Words failed you, barely managing a confused noise, as you pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. There was something you couldn’t comprehend in his gaze. Something you were missing, that required knowledge you didn’t have. Your head tipped to the side as you hoped for at least a little elaboration. Jesse seems to realize your cluelessness, and shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “I thought you were dead,” he murmurs, the words settling on his tongue with an all-too-familiar weight.

    Shit, you thought, eyes going wide for a moment. Thoughts raced through your head as you tried to process what he said, thinking back to what had happened after Blackwatch’s disbandment, wondering why he could possibly have thought that you were-

….

….

    Fuck.

    Yeah, that tracked. Going from constantly fighting in bars to fucking off to nowhere, changing your name, and turning to the vigilante lifestyle? No shit people thought you were dead. How had you ever thought that this was a good idea?... Sure, most of your old friends had done the same, scattering across the four winds without so much as a “lol bye” (or, you know, a proper farewell). However, that didn’t mean that there weren’t still people who cared, who you could have at least made the slightest effort to keep in touch with before disappearing. People like Jesse.

    “Now that you mention it, I realize I didn’t exactly leave much room for thinking anything else,” you replied, barely managing to speak through your embarrassment. A laugh tried to move past your teeth, even though you knew the timing was bad, but the sound died as soon as your gaze met Jesse’s.

    “That’s one hell of an understatement, old friend,” he said, hardly a trace of mirth to his name. Both of his arms were still around your frame, gently cradling you, as if a stiff breeze might sweep you away from him once more. You could feel his body shifting with every breath he took, slowly finding yourself matching the movements. One of Jesse’s hands moves to cup your cheek, fingers sliding so carefully that you almost didn’t feel it, but you lean it instinctively, finding your lips placing a whisper of a kiss against his wrist. “Darling,” he breathes, voice caught in his throat, blocked by joy and surprise alike.

    “I’m sorry for worrying you, Jesse. I swear I never meant to just vanish like that,” you plead, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “Things were bad, and I… I just ran from that, I guess. But you didn’t deserve that, at all, and I swear to whatever passes for high heaven these days, if you give me a chance-....” Pulled in closer, you couldn’t help but squeak a little when Jesse plants a kiss on your forehead. One of his hands is rubbing gentle circles into your back. A reassurance, one you desperately needed. “I can make it up to you. We can do better this time, right?...”

    Jesse didn’t say anything, at least not at first, but the feeling of his hat settling down on your head gave you all the answers you’d ever need.

[pattytacuri]

12/19/2021

Today I think about the 2 women in these pictures. I took the one in the headband on 6/18/21 and the one in the pink bathrobe today.

6 months ago, I was a completely different woman. I had somebody and yet felt lonely and not enough. In fact, I felt so lonely trying to fill that void that I was trying to date or chat with 5 or more men. I was also physically and emotionally exhausted to the point I went insane and broke down , went insane again, and broke down again. I was also trying to be this put-together version of myself trying to juggle everything and everyone without much thought to how the pressure was killing me inside. I didn't really have any good boundaries. I don't blame my ex or my kids or my friends; it was me trying to achieve this level or balance and perfection that just doesn't exist. And I'm not trying to say that I was a victim in any way; I made all choices of those myself and paid the consequences of my own actions. Having said all of that, I love the woman in the headband. She was trying to find a way to survive and do her best despite knowing that she was losing her mind.

Today, 6 months later...I'm a different woman. I'm alone without any romantic partner or even just for sex buddies. It gets lonely, but I have so much peace and tranquility, and I notice this glow inside of me. It's a glow that comes from feeling enough and complete by myself. I don't have a need to search out something to feel that void because there is no void. If I get bored or restless, I read, I write, or I run. I have my children with whom I'm lucky to spend time with. I also beat a driving phobia. If I want to look up the word resilience, I just need to look in the mirror. I could have given up many times throughout the past 6 months, but I didn't. I could have spiraled into complete self-destruction, but I didn't. I could have sought solace in the arms of some dude when the loneliness and heartbreak made me want to die, but I didn't. I was strong and brave enough to understand and know that I needed to feel everything, no matter how horrible and uncomfortable it felt. I was creative enough to find new ways to perk myself up and make myself get up each morning no matter how that looked liked ( I mean Good 4 U by Olivia Rodrigo was my alarm song for months-lol). People at work have called me inspiring because of my fitness journey/ beating my driving phobia. People on social media have called me strong and talented because of my blog. And while of that is nice and wonder; what's more important is that I believe myself that I am all of those things. What's important now is that I love myself, and I live my life now in a way that is truly authentic. No more masking. No more letting others cross boundaries. No more stupid or unsafe distractions to escape uncomfortable feelings. It's taken me 40 years to get here, which is me living my truth out loud, and it feels good. Here is to the next 40 years of this me and other versions of me who will continue on this path of self-love and authenticity. ❤❤❤🥰