#I actually like how a lot of things like the hunt feel like a barely controlled mess that’s only holding together by a thread politically.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

The Empire Wars

brutal YA dystopian fantasy, start of a duology

set in a future climate-ravaged world taken over by a white supremacist empire

a girl raised feral has to survive being hunted along with other foreigners and political enemies on a deadly magical island

and a princess of the Makari-African people newly married into the regime, intent on bringing it down if she can find a way

[nomaishuttle]

reading the desolations of devils acre and idk man im not tly feeling it

[she-who-fights-and-writes]

“Show, Don’t Tell”…But This Time Someone Explains It

If you’ve ever been on the hunt for writing advice, you've definitely seen the phrase “Show, Don’t Tell.”

Writeblr coughs up these three words on the daily; it’s often considered the “Golden Rule” of writing. However, many posts don't provide an in-depth explanation about what this "Golden Rule" means (This is most likely to save time, and under the assumption that viewers are already informed).

More dangerously, some posts fail to explain that “Show, Don’t Tell” occasionally doesn’t apply in certain contexts, toeing a dangerous line by issuing a blanket statement to every writing situation. 

The thing to take away from this is: “Show, Don’t Tell” is an essential tool for more immersive writing, but don't feel like a bad writer if you can’t make it work in every scenario (or if you can’t get the hang of it!)

1. What Does "Show, Don't Tell" Even Mean?

“Show, Don’t Tell” is a writing technique in which the narrative or a character’s feelings are related through sensory details rather than exposition. Instead of telling the reader what is happening, the reader infers what is happening due to the clues they’ve been shown.

EXAMPLE 1:

Telling: The room was very cold. Showing: She shivered as she stepped into the room, her breath steaming in the air.

EXAMPLE 2:

Telling: He was furious. Showing: He grabbed the nearest book and hurled it against the wall, his teeth bared and his eyes blazing.

EXAMPLE 3 ("SHOW, DON'T TELL" DOESN'T HAVE TO MEAN "WRITE A LOT MORE")

Telling: The room hadn't been lived in for a very long time. Showing: She shoved the door open with a spray of dust.

Although the “showing” sentences don’t explicitly state how the characters felt, you as the reader use context clues to form an interpretation; it provides information in an indirect way, rather than a direct one.

Because of this, “Show, Don’t Tell” is an incredibly immersive way to write; readers formulate conclusions alongside the characters, as if they were experiencing the story for themselves instead of spectating. 

As you have probably guessed, “showing” can require a lot more words (as well as patience and effort). It’s a skill that has to be practiced and improved, so don’t feel discouraged if you have trouble getting it on the first try!

2. How Do I Use “Show, Don’t Tell” ?

There are no foolproof parameters about where you “show” and not “tell" or vice versa; it’s more of a writing habit that you develop rather than something that you selectively decide to employ.

In actuality, most stories are a blend of both showing and telling, and more experienced writers instinctively switch between one and another to cater to their narrative needs. You need to find a good balance of both in order to create a narrative that is both immersive and engaging.

i. Help When Your Writing Feels Bare-Bones/Soulless/Boring

Your writing is just not what you’ve pictured in your head, no matter how much you do it over. Conversations are stilted. The characters are flat. The sentences don’t flow as well as they do in the books you've read. What’s missing?

It’s possibly because you’ve been “telling” your audience everything and not “showing”! If a reader's mind is not exercised (i.e. they're being "spoon-fed" all of the details), your writing may feel boring or uninspired!

Instead of saying that a room was old and dingy, maybe describe the peeling wallpaper. The cobwebs in the corners. The smell of dust and old mothballs. Write down what you see in your mind's eye, and allow your audience to formulate their own interpretations from that. (Scroll for a more in-depth explanation on HOW to develop this skill!)

ii. Add More Depth and Emotion to Your Scenes

Because "Show, Don't Tell" is a more immersive way of writing, a reader is going to feel the narrative beats of your story a lot more deeply when this rule is utilized.

Describing how a character has fallen to their knees sobbing and tearing our their hair is going to strike a reader's heart more than saying: "They were devastated."

Describing blood trickling through a character's fingers and staining their clothes will seem more dire than saying: "They were gravely wounded."

iii. Understand that Sometimes Telling Can Fit Your Story Better

Telling can be a great way to show your characters' personalities, especially when it comes to first-person or narrator-driven stories. Below, I've listed a few examples; however, this list isn't exclusive or comprehensive!

Initial Impressions and Character Opinions

If a character describes someone's outfit as "gaudy" or a room as "absolutely disgusting," it can pack more of a punch about their initial impression, rather than describing the way that they react (and can save you some words!). In addition, it can provide some interesting juxtaposition (i.e. when a character describes a dog as "hideous" despite telling their friend it looks cute).

2. Tone and Reader Opinions

Piggybacking off of the first point, you can "tell, not show" when you want to be certain about how a reader is supposed to feel about something. "Showing" revolves around readers drawing their own conclusions, so if you want to make sure that every reader draws the same conclusion, "telling" can be more useful! For example, if you describe a character's outfit as being a turquoise jacket with zebra-patterned pants, some readers may be like "Ok yeah a 2010 Justice-core girlie is slaying!" But if you want the outfit to come across as badly arranged, using a "telling" word like "ridiculous" or "gaudy" can help set the stage.

3. Pacing

"Show, don't tell" can often take more words; after all, describing a character's reaction is more complicated than stating how they're feeling. If your story calls for readers to be focused more on the action than the details, such as a fight or chase scene, sometimes "telling" can serve you better than "showing." A lot of writers have dedicated themselves to the rule "tell action, show emotion," but don't feel like you have to restrict yourself to one or the other.

iv. ABOVE ALL ELSE: Getting Words on the Page is More Important!

If you’re stuck on a section of your story and just can’t find it in yourself to write poetic, flowing prose, getting words on the paper is more important than writing something that’s “good.” If you want to be able to come back and fix it later, put your writing in brackets that you can Ctrl + F later.

Keeping your momentum is the hardest part of writing. Don't sacrifice your inspiration in favor of following rules!

3. How Can I Get Better at “Show, Don’t Tell”?

i. Use the Five Senses, and Immerse Yourself!

Imagine you’re the protagonist, standing in the scene that you have just created. Think of the setting. What are things about the space that you’d notice, if you were the one in your character’s shoes?

Smell? Hear? See? Touch? Taste?

Sight and sound are the senses that writers most often use, but don’t discount the importance of smell and taste! Smell is the most evocative sense, triggering memories and emotions the moment someone walks into the room and has registered what is going on inside—don’t take it for granted. And even if your character isn’t eating, there are some things that can be “tasted” in the air.

EXAMPLE:

TELLING: She walked into the room and felt disgusted. It smelled, and it was dirty and slightly creepy. She wished she could leave. SHOWING: She shuffled into the room, wrinkling her nose as she stepped over a suspicious stain on the carpet. The blankets on the bed were moth-bitten and yellowed, and the flowery wallpaper had peeled in places to reveal a layer of blood-red paint beneath…like torn cuticles. The stench of cigarettes and mildew permeated the air. “How long are we staying here again?” she asked, flinching as the door squealed shut. 

The “showing” excerpt gives more of an idea about how the room looks, and how the protagonist perceives it. However, something briefer may be more suited for writers who are not looking to break the momentum in their story. (I.e. if the character was CHASED into this room and doesn’t have time to take in the details.)

ii. Study Movies and TV Shows: Think like a Storyteller, Not Just a Writer

Movies and TV shows quite literally HAVE TO "show, and not tell." This is because there is often no inner monologue or narrator telling the viewers what's happening. As a filmmaker, you need to use your limited time wisely, and make sure that the audience is engaged.

Think about how boring it would be if a movie consisted solely of a character monologuing about what they think and feel, rather than having the actor ACT what they feel.

(Tangent, but there’s also been controversy that this exposition/“telling” mindset in current screenwriting marks a downfall of media literacy. Examples include the new Percy Jackson and Avatar: The Last Airbender remakes that have been criticized for info-dumping dialogue instead of “showing.”)

If you find it easy to envision things in your head, imagine how your scene would look in a movie. What is the lighting like? What are the subtle expressions flitting across the actors' faces, letting you know just how they're feeling? Is there any droning background noise that sets the tone-- like traffic outside, rain, or an air conditioner?

How do the actors convey things that can't be experienced through a screen, like smell and taste?

Write exactly what you see in your mind's eye, instead of explaining it with a degree of separation to your readers.

iii. Listen to Music

I find that because music evokes emotion, it helps you write with more passion—feelings instead of facts! It’s also slightly distracting, so if you’re writing while caught up in the music, it might free you from the rigid boundaries you’ve put in place for yourself.

Here’s a link to my master list of instrumental writing playlists!

iv. Practice, Practice, Practice! And Take Inspiration from Others!

“Show Don’t Tell” is the core of an immersive scene, and requires tons of writing skills cultivated through repeated exposure. Like I said before, more experienced writers instinctively switch between showing and telling as they write— but it’s a muscle that needs to be constantly exercised!

If I haven’t written in a while and need to get back into the flow of things, I take a look at a writing prompt, and try cultivating a scene that is as immersive as possible! Working on your “Show, Don’t Tell” skills by practicing writing short, fun one-shots can be much less restrictive than a lengthier work.

In addition, get some inspiration and study from reading the works of others, whether it be a fanfiction or published novel!

If you need some extra help, feel free to check out my Master List of Writing Tips and Advice, which features links to all of my best posts, each of them categorized !

Hope this helped, and happy writing!

[riminiscensce]

THINGS AJAW HATES

CHARACTER … kinich and ajaw

SYNOPSIS … the title says it all, here are some things ajaw hates about you and kinich

NOTES … can’t help but think about these two, I doubt ajaw doesn’t actually see him as a friend (p.s. check out this kinich x f.reader fic >:))

CONTENTS … sfw , fluff , platonic (ajaw) , domestic , gender neutral reader , likely ooc kinich & ajaw

Word count … 1043

Ajaw is a simple dragon, if he hates something, he lets it be known to others; if he likes something, he tries to hide it to save face. A simple dragon.

There are many things Ajaw has hated ever since Kinich moved in with you. You; someone whom Kinich calls his significant other, his best friend, his lover even.

The longer he stays there, the more Ajaw realizes he really doesn’t like it. Everything just feels so different.

Ajaw hates how long it takes for Kinich to say goodbye.

Usually, Kinich wakes up in the morning, gets ready, and then they both leave to start their hunt. But with you, it changed.

Instead of simply leaving at the brink of dawn, Kinich starts to slow down his movements, as if he doesn’t actually want to leave the house just yet, something Ajaw finds really odd about this nimble guy.

Kinich doesn’t just leave through the door after getting ready, not anymore. Instead, Ajaw always sees him helping you out with breakfast, always talking as if he’d never run out of things to say to you.

And when he’s about to leave, Kinich takes even longer when saying goodbye to you. Ajaw would always float there while the two of you kissed your goodbyes. It was painfully slow.

“We’re not going off to war here! Chop chop!” Ajaw would always voice his complaints loudly, always only receiving a small laugh from you before he and Kinich head through the door, starting their job.

Another thing Ajaw hates is that Kinich is harder to get annoyed now! He barely shows any annoyance nowadays, the rare times that Kinich would break out in irritation was starting to become nonexistent. Ajaw realizes it was all because of you.

The dragon doesn’t see that annoying scowl on the hunter’s face anymore, nor does he get scolded by Kinich whenever he’d mess with him. No matter how hard Ajaw tries, Kinich no longer clicks his tongue at him at all.

Oh and also—Ajaw hates having to share a space with your damn pet! He just hates it! Your pet is so energetic and loud, always chasing after his tail that he’s basically forced to hide behind you or Kinich.

You’d always shake this off though, telling him to get along with your pet, to treat it as a sibling or something. Your statement ticks off all the wrong buttons in Ajaw. He isn’t a pet. He doesn’t want to put up with any more of your pet’s shenanigans.

Not to mention, Ajaw hates it when he’s left alone in the house during your and Kinich’s date night. What’s he supposed to do all by himself? He can’t talk to anyone, tick anyone off, or do anything fun at all.

Ajaw has hated a lot of things ever since Kinich moved in with you.

Instead of his usual routine, so many things have changed so fast that Ajaw doesn’t know how to deal with it.

He hates it. He hates it a lot.

But whenever Ajaw thinks about wishing to return back to how it was back then, his little mind starts to think differently.

He will never say it, but Ajaw likes waking up early in the morning with a heavenly smell coming from the kitchen. He loves floating there to see you and Kinich, laughing at something you guys said while preparing the table.

Then he sees what you guys cooked, flavored slices of meat with beans mixed into the pot. Something he likes. When Ajaw went to the table, he saw three plates.

One for you, one for Kinich, and one for him too. He likes how full the table was, that there were three plates instead of none at all.

And on some occasions, Ajaw likes how you and him would gang up on Kinich and tease the hell out of him. Just innocent teasing, nothing more. Instead of the unbothered expression that Ajaw was too used to, Kinich would subtly laugh along with the two of you.

A laughing boy was something Ajaw was not used to, but he admits to himself that the smile suits Kinich quite well.

What’s more, Ajaw likes his new bed! Gone are the days he’s forced to either sleep on some hard wood or share a bed with Kinich. This time, you made him his own bed, paired with two soft pillows and a warm blanket to keep him warm during the cool nights.

You even placed a little lamp beside it if he ever wakes up in the middle of the night scared—oh what? I mean—the Dragonlord never gets scared. Why did you even put a lamp beside his bed? Not like he’ll need it or anything.

Ajaw likes having company all the time. No longer does he have to sit still in painful silence while Kinich naps the day away. Instead, whenever Kinich is resting, you’re there to accompany him. And even if you were napping alongside Kinich, Ajaw could always play with your pet (only when he’s truly bored though).

The Almighty Dragonlord is a big hater, a loud complainer, always wanting more than what he’s receiving. He is someone who used to pass his time by trying to pull out an expression from the inexpressive Kinich.

But Ajaw is also a sweet dragon, a fortunate friend, starting to accept the change you brought to his and Kinich’s lives.

He started to think that, maybe, change is a good thing.

After all, he wouldn’t have seen so much expression on his friend if it weren’t for you. He wouldn’t have such a nice bed if it weren’t for you. He wouldn’t be waking up to a tasty breakfast if it weren’t for you.

And, in a way, Ajaw thinks that he wouldn’t have anything at all if it weren’t for Kinich.

He has made up his mind.

Ajaw loves saying goodbye to you before going to work with Kinich.

Ajaw loves laughing alongside Kinich over something stupid.

Ajaw loves it when you two give him something after coming home from your date.

Ajaw loves it when he gets included in your outings.

Ajaw loves the two of you.

Not like he’ll say it out loud though.

rimi’s notes

I used to be a big fan of naruto back then and I screamed when I realized JP kinich and ajaw are the same as sasuke and naruto‼️‼️ Also, if you wanna read a kinich x f.reader fic, here! :) kinich is at college, ajaw is a lizard, mc is a designer

hearts / reblogs / follows are very much appreciated !

[allpiesforourown]

OKAY SO I have way too many WIPs to write a role reversal fic and I meant to just yap about my au and ended up writing 2k words about it if you want to read it below...

oblivious shizun luo binghe / oblivious disciple shen yuan

First of all i've been reading a lot of role reversal fics lately but big shout out to ao3 user anqlbean for this fic because it really gave me "fuckboy shizun binghe, hiding that he's a demon lord" brain rot

Okay so anyway. In fair cang qiong sect where we lay our scene-

Luo Binghe is the Qing Jing peak lord. He’s also the heavenly emperor of the demon realm. No one knows both of his identities except for mobei jun and a handful of other people from his inner circle. It’s risky for a demon to hide as one of the cultivation world’s most prominent figures, but he likes having the best of both worlds!

Enter Shen Yuan: Shen Yuan's cultivation history is somewhat similar to Shen Jiu's in that he started cultivating late and joined Qing Jing well into his teens. He’s about 16 when he becomes Binghe’s student, but the thing is… Luo Binghe is kind of just the peak lord in name.

He spends his free time getting laid in the next town or going on an adventure with some hot demoness instead of giving classes. He’ll go on cultivation missions and take requests from villages and whatnot, but he doesn't bother teaching his disciples, just gives them a cultivation manual and tells them to figure it out. Half the time when students greet him on the peak he just nods because he doesnt even remember the disciple’s name. It’s fine though, once every few months he’ll take a break from all the one night stands and actually take a student along with him on a mission, just to keep the sect leader from complaining. “See, I teach my kids! Last month I took what’s-his-name on a night hunt!”

By the time Luo Binghe bothers to take Shen Yuan along for a mission, Shen Yuan is already 20 and has been on the peak for 4 years. Luo Binghe barely knows he exists, and he justs wants to collect this herb he was tasked with retrieving, send Shen Yuan back with it, and then get nasty with the woman back in the village who gave them directions to the cave that grows it. 

Unfortunately for Binghe, the cave is also home to one of the few flowers that can affect a demon lord. Binghe can’t move as he falls to the ground and hears his student yell “Shizun!” and run over.

They can hear monsters nearby so Shen Yuan’s two options are to 1) heal his shizun by taking advantage of Binghe's body or 2) abandon him to die and leave by himself. Binghe has experienced both multiple times, and is ready for either one. He's not ready for Shen Yuan to choose a third option that no one has ever chosen before: heaving Luo Binghe onto his back, transferring him qi, and using every bit of strength to carry him to safety. 

By the time they return to the cave’s entrance, Shen Yuan only has enough energy to use a talisman signalling the sect for help before they both pass out. 

When Luo Binghe wakes up, the Qian Cao peak lord is asking him how he feels while his head disciple is yelling at a sheepish Shen Yuan for doing something reckless again! Apparently this is not the first time Shen Yuan has exhausted himself for the sake of another person. 

Over the next few days, he can’t think of anything other than his student. 

(Also, he secretly feels kind of… angry??? Was his body so unappealing to Shen Yuan that he'd rather half-die than dual cultivate with him?? He's not sure why he's so pissed off by the idea, it's not like he's ever wanted to dual cultivate with a man before, but still…)

Finally he decides he has every right to be curious about shen yuan, that’s his disciple! Unfortunately while Binghe was ignoring Shen Yuan's existence for the past few years, his disciple has managed to build up… a reputation at Cang Qiong. 

Oh Shen Yuan selflessly saved Luo Binghe? Big deal, saving people is an average Tuesday for Shen Yuan, apparently! “He stopped my qi deviation” this, “he threw me out of a poisonous demon's way” that. 

For the first time ever, Luo Binghe is not special. If anything, he has less pull with Shen Yuan than anyone else at Cang Qiong, because everyone else knows Shen Yuan better. Luo Binghe doesn’t know Shen Yuan’s birthday, but the rest of his students make sure to throw Shen Yuan a party every year to thank him for all his tutoring. Binghe is SO far behind, which is a feeling he hasn’t felt in YEARS. 

About a month after the mission, he finally sees Shen Yuan sparring alone. Luo Binghe walks over, acting unbothered and nonchalant even though he's screaming internally. He greets his disciple and says, “This master has yet to properly thank Shen Yuan for his assistance at the cave… join me at the bamboo house tonight.” 

Shen Yuan apologizes, says he has important plans but would love to join him another night, then spends the rest of the day off the peak with the An Ding head disciple. 

Luo Binghe is flabbergasted. He's less important than an An Ding disciple???? Really??? Fucking An Ding????? 

After that, Luo Binghe……. He isn’t stalking Shen Yuan, despite what Liu Mingyan (Xian Su peak lord) might say with excited eyes. He’s just keeping an eye on this interesting disciple he never knew he had! In secret. 

He walks in on Qingge and Shen Yuan “sparring” and sees the exact moment Shen Yuan oversteps, loses his balance and goes tumbling on top of Liu Qingge. Binghe storms over, picks Shen Yuan up by the back of his robe like a cat, and physically separates the two of them. The two disciples gawk at how weird that was and he has no idea how to come up with an excuse for whatever the hell that just was. 

Instead he asks what they’re doing. 

Shen Yuan, being polite and answering the question: Liu-shidi and I are heading on a mission soon-

Luo Binghe: this master shall join you.

Shen Yuan: uh… it's a very simple request, two disciples are more than en-

Luo Binghe: this. Master. Shall. Join. You.

Liu Qingge: ???? What the hell is his problem 

Shen Yuan: Okay… this disciple is grateful for shizun’s assistance…?

Their flight to the village is dead quiet. 

The townspeople sigh theyre so glad they’re here, some demonic creature has been destroying their wildlife! This area makes most of their money with lumber exports, so if the creature continues to destroy their trees, it’ll result in huge losses. 

When they find the demon, Shen Yuan starts yapping non stop. It’s like he’s suddenly transformed into a textbook, explaining that this little beaver-esque demon needs to chew up trees for its survival. Luo Binghe is bored out of his mind and pulls out his sword. 

Shen Yuan gaps and picks up the small creature, holding it protectively against his chest. “This species isn’t even violent! We can’t kill it!” 

Luo Binghe crosses his arms and says they have to complete this commission somehow. Shen Yuan argues they can simply relocate the demon somewhere else! Luo Binghe expects Liu Qingge to complain or brutishly try to kill it, but he shrugs and says he’ll follow Shen Yuan. Apparently this happens regularly…

By the time they rehome the creature somewhere it won’t be a bother, it’s too late to fly back to the sect.

The only close by inn apologizes and says they only have two rooms left, and each one is a single bed. They can have a mat sent up, but…

Binghe says he should room with Shen Yuan because they’re both from Qing Jing, and (he glares at Liu Qingge as he says this) Liu Qingge is an outsider. Liu Qingge narrows his eyes and says it would be inappropriate for a peak lord to share a room with a lowly disciple, so he should room with Shen Yuan. 

Shen Yuan cheerfully chimes in that he and Liu-shidi sleep together all the time! “Whenever shidi and I camp outdoors, he says he prefers sleeping on the ground. He’ll be happy to take the mat.”

Luo Binghe's smile becomes a little forced, but shen Yuan doesn't even notice the murderous intent rolling off his shizun, aimed at his friend from Bai Zhan. 

In the end, Shen Yuan gets one room, and Liu Qingge gets the other. Luo Binghe insists his cultivation is high enough he doesn’t need to sleep, and had no intention to sleep tonight anyway.

This is a perfect time to go and find a brothel or a hookup. He realizes this is the longest he’s gone without sex in a long time, all because he’s been obsessed with Shen Yuan so much lately. But he’s got too much on his mind to do that tonight… He’s still thinking of the loving way Shen Yuan protected that small helpless demon, going as far as defying a peak lord for its sake.

Shen Yuan is… someone with shockingly good character. Despite being surrounded by cultivators, meeting people who are good is surprisingly rare. He doesn’t want his sweet disciple to have that lovely sense of justice stolen away from him by… gross perverts like Liu Qingge lusting after him! 

(He’s not projecting!)

He’s already neglected Shen Yuan as a shizun for so many years. Now he has to step and make up for all that time! He’s decided what he has to do. 

First thing in the morning, he knocks on Shen Yuan’s door. He hears a sweet ‘Come in!’ from inside and for some reason he feels… really nervous. Inside, Shen Yuan is sitting on his bed, brushing his hair, and he smiles when he looks up and sees Luo Binghe. “Good morning, shizun.”

Good morning??? How can he say something so casually, without a hint of shame, looking like that?? He’s wearing nothing but one layer that’s not even thick enough to hide his body! He can see Shen Yuan’s milky thighs and small chest!!!! What the fuck!?

(Is this how he walks around the shared dorms on Qing Jing? Do all the other disciples see the outline of his body through his thin layer every morning?? The longer he stares, the more he tells himself he’s making the right decision by doing this.)

He cuts right to the chase. “Once we return, Shen Yuan shall move his belongings into the bamboo house. This lord will teach him all there is to know about being Qing Jing’s head disciple.” He makes it clear that this is a statement, not a request – he’s not giving Shen Yuan a choice. 

Shen Yuan gawks at him, and Luo Binghe says they’ll discuss things more in detail once they return to Qing Jing, but from this moment on, he represents himself as Luo Binghe’s head disciple. It takes Shen Yuan a few minutes to really comprehend what’s going on, but eventually he bows in thanks and throws on another, thicker layer. Shen Yuan moves for the door and says, “I better tell Liu-shidi-”

Luo Binghe’s hand moves before he can stop himself, and they’re both surprised by the deathly tight grip he has on Shen Yuan’s wrist. 

Luo Binghe clears his throat and lets go. “You should let him be. Sometimes if you spend too much time with a person, it can become off-putting.” There, surely that will keep Shen Yuan away from that brute, right?

Shen Yuan says, “Ohhh,” and then smiles. “Don't worry shizun,” he says gently, “This disciple understands what you're saying. Once I move into the bamboo house, I'll make sure to give shizun his space.” 

Then Shen Yuan walks away and closes the door behind him. Luo Binghe can hear Shen Yuan telling Liu Qingge the good news, “I don’t know if shizun is joking or not, but wouldn’t it be nice for us to do our head disciple work together?” 

Luo Binghe realizes that Shen Yuan is going to RUIN him, and he’ll do it without even realizing. 

[calthinez]

Pink, Sweet smelling dust

Paring: Dean Winchester x reader

Summary: While on a witch hunt, you and Dean get some sort of dust thrown on you. After Dean ganks her, you two high-tail it to the bunker thinking the worst. Turns out that witch got her dusts mixed up and hit you guys with an aphrodisiac.

A/N: I heart Dean Winchester. The relationship between the two of you is unspecified and its implied that this is the first time you guys are having sex. I love the sex pollen au :P

Warnings: NSFW(18+) car sex, rough sex, unprotected sex

Your heart was beating so fast. You could figure out if it was from the fear of what was to come from that dust, or if it was from the dust. Looking up at Dean, he seems to be taking this a lot better than you, or he was at least pretending to.

The two of you were fast-paced walking to the Impala, not even caring to clean up the mess that was made. "Your heart beating fast, too?" You asked, voice laced with worry.

"Yeah, but don't worry about it. We'll be fine." Dean said as he fished his car keys out of his pockets. You couldn't tell if he actually believed that, though, or if he was just trying to make you feel better. The hunt was going fine right up until she blew pink, sweet smelling dust into your faces. "What the fuck was that?" Dean had yelled at her. She only gave him a dry laugh in response with a suspenseful "You'll see"

Dean had no hesitation when he shot her in the chest, only checking to make sure she was actually dead before grabbing you and high- tailing to the car.

Once the two of you got in the car Dean wasted no time putting the key in the ignition. You barely had time to buckle your seat belt before he sped off, causing the dirt on the road to fly into the air. Even with Dean going thirty over the speed limit, the car ride is at least half an hour long. You have no idea how your going to survive that, especially with the growing ache between your legs.

The only thing you can think about is your doomed fate. There was no time-limit on how long this would take before it ends the both of you. For all you know it would take only a minute.

Dean notices the anxiousness spread all across your face. He reaches his hand over the comfortingly pats your knee. You realize hes trying to make you feel less scared but you suddenly become hyper-aware of your body and how hot you feel.

Its just his hand on my knee. You think to yourself. There's no reason to get all excited from that.

He leaves his hand on your knee, and all you can think about now is where else he could put his hands. On your thighs? On your chest? In your mouth? Inside of you- You shudder and close your eyes tightly at that thought.

Its not that you haven't thought about Dean like that, you were sure just about everyone who met him has. You just never had it take such a big effect on you especially when you're right next to him.

Dean takes your shudder as a shudder of anxiety, so he trails his hand up ever so slightly and presses his fingers into the skin of your thigh.

The only sound in the car is the humming from the engine, none of Deans usual songs playing. At a time like this, you wish the radio was on to distract you.

You stick out your tongue to wet your dry lips. Deans hand that isn't on your thigh is gripping the steering wheel so tight that his knuckles are turning white. His movements are stiff and his eyes are locked on the road, not sparing you a glance. You wonder if he has the same problem as you, if he also has an ache between his legs. You quickly glance down to his pants and see that, yes, he does have the same problem, the large tent in his pants being painfully obvious.

Dean turns his head immediately to you when you let out a little whimper at the sight of his bulge. You avoid eye contact, desperately staring out of the car window.

"You okay?" he asks you, his gruff voice adding to the fire in your belly.

"Yup," you squeak out. What is this man doing to you? You can hardly think straight.

Dean doesn't believe you, not in the slightest. It takes a minute for the gears in his head to turn before he realizes; you feel the same way he does. He originally chocked it up to you being scared, but he knows that is not the case. Dean slides his hand up higher on your thigh, you suck in a quick breath at the feeling.

"You sure?" He asks you with an underlying tone of arousal. You look back to him as you angle your leg to lean towards his body. "Mhm." You mumble out.

The fingers on your upper thigh slowly creep to the junction of your hip and thigh, there Dean rubs small circles into your flesh. His touch is lighting you on fire. Your breathing picks up and the ache between your legs rapidly intensifies.

On the old dirt roads Dean pulls off to the side, stopping close to the trees that line the road. He puts the car in park and turns off the vehicle. There was no cars on the road this late at night, It was just you two.

"You feel it too?" He asks you, just incase this is actually just one big coincidence and he read into it too much.

You nod your head yes and unbuckle your seat belt, Dean does the same. There is a pregnant pause where the both of you just look at each other, unsure of what to do. You cannot take this feeling anymore, though. You almost pounce on Dean. You crash your lips against his as his hand come up to hold your jaw in place. The kiss is messy, unsynchronized with teeth bumping against teeth and tongues sloppily licking at each other's mouth.

Dean uses his free hand to push you back onto the flat seat of the car. It's a good thing that the car has the big bench seats or else this would be a lot more uncomfortable. You're now laying down under Dean, his hand roughly grabbing at your boobs. You moan into the kiss.

Dean roughly pulls down your pants, leaving you in just your panties. All embarrassment you might have had has been overshadowed by your need to be fucked by Dean. You bring your hand down to grip Deans hard cock through his pants, he lets out a hoarse moan at the friction. You make work on unbuttoning his pants and also pulling them down.

Skipping all foreplay it seems you both feel like you'll explode if you aren't fucking as soon as possible, hell, you actually might. You pull down Deans boxers just low enough for you to free his cock. You jerk him a few times before he breaks the kiss. "Can I fuck you?" He says, you're literally jerking him off but he just wants to make sure. Ever the gentleman.

You enthusiastically nod your head up and down, giving him the go-ahead.

He takes his cock in his own hand and uses his other hand to push your panties to the side, allowing him access to your wet pussy. He pushed into you, both of you releasing pent up moans. His cock is big, and you barely have anytime to adjust to his size before he roughly grabs your hips with both of his hands and starts thrusting into you.

Dean leans down to your neck to kiss and suck on your pulse point as you're moaning sweet praises to him, urging him to keep going. The windows start to fog up from both of your heavy breaths being released. Its an erotic scene, thats for sure. The both of you in the front seat fucking like you're depraved.

There's definitely going to be bruises on your hips, you think to yourself. You lock your legs around Deans torso. Deans moans are like music to your ears, going straight to your impending orgasm. Your nails scratch at his back.

"Fuck- I'm close." You moan out into Deans ear.

"Yeah me too, sweetheart." His pace never relents, though, even with his orgasm quickly approaching. If anything it speeds up.

You can feel the coil in your belly tighten like no other time before. Your hands are grasping and clawing at Deans shoulders as your back arches, pushing your chest to his.

The coil in your belly snaps hard. Harder than any time before. You screw your eyes shut and loudly cry out as you cum around Deans cock.

It takes Dean no time to be cumming, as well. He cums inside of you, not that you care you're too fucked out to be thinking about anything other than your orgasm.

You slowly release your legs' hold on Deans waist. The both of you trying to catch your breath from your climax. He slowly pulls out of you and tucks himself back into his pants. Dean sits back up-right on the seat and you follow suit. You fix your panties and pull your pants up.

The both of you just sit in silence for a moment, collecting your thoughts. You notice that you no longer feel anxious or ill, like the sex completly cured you... Oh. You think you figured it out. You open your mouth to say someting to the man next to you but he beats you to it.

"I think it was a sex powder."

[cherrydbear]

Since y'all seemed to like this I'll keep rambling on the subject, I can do this all day. Here are some of those examples where I think their friendship really shines through:

From Sanji's perspective, this guy just showed up outside his restaurant one day, dueled the legendary swordsman who slashed Don Krieg's fleet to pieces, willingly got cut almost in two, nearly bled to death, was tied up by his own crew and then captured by the Arlong pirates, still singlehandedly escaped and came back to join the fight and defeated one of Arlong's best fighters, then nearly bled to death again and woke up just in time to drink himself silly at the afterparty. I've heard people say they "match each other's freak" and that's the truth. Sanji watches this absolute wackadoodle of a man and knows he's found someone who matches his freak. From Zoro's point of view, some cook at a floating restaurant just fed all of their enemies out of principle before kicking their butts. How could he not respect that sort of unconditional adherence to a sense of honor and justice? Especially considering he himself experienced starvation not too long ago in Shells Town. Now this cook, the newest stray in Luffy's collection, immediately proves himself to be immensely capable both in the kitchen and on the battlefield, incurs injury to himself without complaint to protect these people he barely knows, and still is the only person to come sit by Zoro and check up on him. So Zoro knows that Sanji has a heart of pure gold, and I think that's a big part of why he gets frustrated when Sanji tries to cover it up with bravado and perviness.

This scene was really interesting to me because usually when someone demands that Zoro does something, he grouches and grumbles about it, so in this case it seems he just spontaneously started helping out himself. And if there was ever a man whose love language is acts of service, it's Roronoa Zoro. He seems to be more of a "companionable silence" kind of guy, while Sanji's a talker and will say anything to keep feeling connected. Now, I don't know if this is just a me thing, but I like to say my friends' names a lot, even just because the association with them brings me joy, but I rarely use the names of people I'm not close with except to refer to them in third person or to get their attention. In this scene, it seems to me that Sanji keeps repeating Zoro's name as a way to show he's thinking about him and appreciates him being there, though I might just be projecting.

Now, I know shippers go crazy over this one, but I think it's honestly really solid platonic evidence and I'll tell you why (not to dissuade shipping, I think you have to be friends before you can be more than friends so all of this can be fuel for the ship too if you want it to be). Firstly, they're comfortable enough to sleep this close together. Sanji's resting his sleepy head right on Zoro's shoulder (it should have been me, not him) and Zoro just lets him. Also note real quick, only a short distance away Luffy is using Usopp as a pillow, so they're all a cuddly cozy little family. When Zoro notices Sanji mistakenly trying to kiss him, he doesn't even move away, he just makes a face and waits for Sanji to wake up so he can make fun of him. Sanji, for his part, doesn't act embarrassed or disgusted that it turned out to be Zoro there, only playfully mad about his expression. They squabble for a few moments before Luffy pushes past them and they turn their attention to the next thing, argument forgotten, proving that neither was actually angry about anything and they were merely enjoying the opportunity to bicker.

This is from the hunting competition in Little Garden that I mentioned before. I just wanted to point out that both of them are grinning and clearly having a grand time.

(I love how Sanji's hands are just massive sometimes.) They have the entire forest clearing, and Sanji chooses to sit his little booty down right next to Zoro and toss his food at him. They're just like those kids in elementary who had beef over who has a more impressive Pokémon collection and would always sit next to each other at lunch to compare cards and play together at recess but claim they're archnemeses. And for as much as Sanji implied to Usopp (though oblivious) that the heart shaped vegetables were just for the ladies, he did choose to make it and serve it to the whole crew. Speaking of the ladies, Sanji is always adamant about protecting them, but he was perfectly fine with leaving Nami and Robin in Zoro's care, just as Zoro trusted Sanji to take care of Luffy and Usopp.

I also loved how Sanji packed Zoro a cute little lunchbox for exploring and he was NOT going to let no stupid south bird take it from him.

Alright that's all for today folks I gotta wake up in like 5 hours for work lol

Continuation from this post

[cheapshrimpysheep]

hi, is it okay if I request a comfort(?) scenario/headcanons where Leona, vil and rook(separately) has a s/o who starts randomly wearing gloves and hiding their hands from them due to getting really bad contact dermatitis from their work and not really able to do anything about it work wise

COMMENTS: Coincidentally, I myself have problems with dermatitis on my hands. So, perhaps what I wrote comes a lot from my own experience. Especially the thing about using an ointment that worked once and for some reason no longer works. 😅 And having some trouble sleeping because of the itching.

I hope you and all enjoy it ❤️‍🩹

CHARACTERS: Leona Kingscholar / Vil Schoenheit / Rook Hunt

TAGS: Comfort; Fluff; GN Reader

WORD COUNT: An average of 610 words per character

Contact dermatitis is an itchy, inflamed rash that develops when your skin comes into contact with an irritant or allergen. There are two main types: Irritant contact dermatitis and Allergic contact dermatitis.

I decided to go with the first one since Irritant contact dermatitis is the most common type. It's caused by a substance that irritates the skin, such as soaps, detergents, solvents, or harsh chemicals.

CONTEXT: You got dermatitis after cleaning Ramshackle Dorm. It's not the first time, you already had it before, so you think you know how to treat it. Nobody needs to know. So you will take care of your hands at home and whenever you go out you will wear gloves to try to protect them. You'll be fine in no time... Right...?

Leona knew something was wrong the moment he saw you wearing gloves. Nobody starts wearing gloves out of nowhere just because. But he didn't need to ask anything because he saw you moving your hands as if those gloves were uncomfortable. And once or twice he saw you scratching your hands through your gloves and stopping immediately as if you had remembered that you shouldn't do it.

He wasn't going to get involved. At least not if it looked like you were getting better. But on the second day, you still itched. And on the third day, you had bigger dark circles than usual and the itching seemed the same or worse.

You had just returned to Ramshackle Dorm and the first thing you did was take off your gloves and run to the bathroom to treat your hands. Why didn't that get better? You were using the same ointment as last time.

“You should go to the infirmary.” Grim said “Hench-humans should take better care of themselves so they are always ready.” He teases you before showing actual concern. “You're not even sleeping well. I wake up to you scratching yourself every five minutes.”

You won't admit it, but he's right. You should go to the infirmary. Maybe tomorrow. That's what you're thinking when you hear someone knocking on the door. But you can't cover your hands now, the ointment is still working. So you open the door with one hand, using the door hide this one and place the other behind your back.

“Show me your hands.” Leona demands calmly. You look surprised and confused. “Show me your hands.” he reiterates, crossing his arms but still patient.

“Why?” you ask.

“Why are you hiding them?” he asks back. “If everything is normal, why don't you show me?” and smiles smugly.

I mean, he's right. Who opens the door with one hand behind their back. This is very suspicious. You hesitate, but end up stretching your arms in front of you to show your red hands and unhealthy skin.

But Leona isn’t surprised. He barely even reacts. As if you had just confirmed his suspicions. He takes off one of his own gloves and puts it in his pocket, holding one of your hands with his gloved hand while he runs the other carefully over your broken skin, to feel it. Does he know it's not contagious?

“The ointment isn't working, is it?” He sais. You had just put it in your hand, so he definitely felt the moist. He puts the glove back on. “Do you have your keys?”

You say they are on the entrance table.

“So grab them and let's go. Unless you want to be locked out of the dorm.”

“Let’s go where?”

“To the herbivores club party. To the infirmary. Where else? If you don't go there alone, someone has to take you. Don't tell me you forgot where it is?” he smiles smugly again. “And don't make me pick you up. You know I would.”

Vil saw your new gloves. Were you trying to change your style a little? No. That's not it. You were uncomfortable with those gloves. He knows about fashion, the same way he knows when a person is using a piece to hide some part of their body.

After classes you went back to Ramshackle Dorm, took off your gloves and applied the ointment. It had worked last time, but this time it didn't seem to be having any effect. You had just come out of the bathroom, with your hands smeared with pumice, when someone knocked on the door. Damn it.

You can't cover your hands now, so you open the door with one hand, using the door hide this one and place the other behind your back.

“Hello (Y/N)” Vil greets you. “I apologize for the sudden appearance, but can I come in to talk to you about something?”

You think for a second, you can keep hiding your hands behind your back, so you tell him he can come in. He enters and you close the door behind you, always hiding your hands.

“You've never used gloves before. It's not your style.” It didn't sound like he was criticizing you, like he tends to do with a lot of people. In fact, he sounded quite calm and neutral, almost understanding. “If there's one thing I know how to distinguish when someone starts using a new accessory, it's whether they're using it to try to improve their appearance or to hide themselves. And this second one tends to be a sensitive subject. That's why I thought it would be best to ask you in private. Did something happen to your hands? Are you injured?”

You tell him no, that you're not injured. Well, not exactly in that sense of the word at least. You end up telling him the truth about your skin and how it has reacted to cleansing products.

“Dermatitis? Let me see. I want to know how bad it is.” He now has that judgmental look on his eyes. Which makes you hesitate a little, but you are now also at the point of no return.

You take your hands from behind your back and show Vil your red hands and unhealthy skin, without being able to look him directly in the eyes.

“For the Great Seven! And you let your skin reach this point?” he scolds you. “When did this happen? Have you gone to the infirmary already?”

You say you went there the last time this happened and they gave you an ointment, which was what you were applying.

“And is it having any effect?” He asks. You say that, compared to last time, not really. “Then get ready to go to the infirmary.” He thinks for a second if you should protect your hands from the sun, which reminds him of the gloves he saw you wearing that day. “Let me see the gloves you were wearing.”

You go get the gloves and give them to him. He looks at you disapprovingly as soon as he picks them up.

“These cheap gloves? This material is horrendous! It's probably making your situation even worse.” He throws the gloves onto the entrance table. If there had been a rubbish bin there he would have thrown it in there. He takes off his own gloves and hands them to you. “Here, use mine. They are cotton inside.” You hesitate. His gloves? And they must be expensive. “You can keep them. I have many more like these.”

As you put on his gloves, he details his new plans with you.

“We will go to the infirmary and you will hear everything they told you to do and use. After that, we will review all your cleaning products and materials you use that come into contact with your hands and can create this reaction again. If we have to get rid of everything and buy new products we will do so.” You look at him and show your concern about the price of these possible new products. “If they are truly that expensive, I'll buy them for you. Your hands won't go back to this state on my watch. And then you come with me to Pomefiore to analyze your skin and find products to protect and care for your hands. Did you understood?”

Que Adorable! Rook thinks. Trickster really thought they could hide something from me? That really entertain him. Seeing you wearing gloves and trying to hide how uncomfortable you were wearing them and trying not to scratch your hands too much. You reminded him of an animal that tries to hide the fact that it is seriously injured.

Even though it was funny at first, he couldn't see you like this. He assumed what it was from the symptoms you show, but he didn't want to talk to you in front of others. After all, if you were trying to hide it, it's because he didn't want others to know.

He sneakily followed you to Ramshackle Dorm. You opened the door, letting Grim enter first to run to the kitchen for some snacks. You pass the door jamb and it's when you go to close the door that you hear

“Bonjour, Trickster!” Rook’s head pops from the side. He lets out a little muffled laugh at how startled you were. “I spotted yor new pair of glove on your hands. Are you perhaps trying a new look? Merveilleux! It's exciting to try out new accessories to express another side of ourselves, isn't it? However...” His friendly look now changes to that hunter look of his. And the smile of someone who cannot be deceived. “I don't believe that's the real motive you're wearing those gloves. Am I mistaken?”

You don't even know how to answer him. He already knows the truth and you know there's nothing you can do about it. His expression returns to normal, he now has that characteristic resting smile on his face.

“There's no need to be shy with me. I purposely came to talk to you here because I knew it wasn't something you wanted to discuss in public.” And now his smile has faded into that slightly more serious look that he only tends to have when something worries him a little, or when he feels that the situation is not so light. “I saw how you itched your hands, how uncomfortable you were with the gloves. It's a skin problem, isn't it? Maybe dermatitis?”

You don't say anything. It's not necessary. He knows the answer just by looking at you, your face, your posture. And your hands were starting to itch again.

“Please, you can take off your gloves. They are clearly only making your situation worse.” You hesitate. “It really hurts me to see you suffering like this. No matter how damaged your skin is, I know that your hands are as beautiful as the rest of you and that they just need treatment to become très belles again. And if you allow me to help with your recovery, I will do so with the greatest love and care.” He smiles charmingly at you, the type of smile that makes you feel safe.

You take off your gloves, showing him your red hands and unhealthy skin.

“Sacrebleu! What did this to your hands?”

You tell him it was your cleaning products and about the ointment you were using since the last time that happened to you. And, unfortunately, it doesn't seem to be having much effect this time.

“We must go to the infirmary if it's not working anymore.” He proclaims, embodying his dramatic self. “Ooh, your poor, beautiful hands, threatened by something that should assist you caring for your home and yourself. They must be replaced. I will happily help you with it and get you gloves that will protect you in the future. Fear not, my dear Trickster. Shall your hands be healthy once again.”

If you dropped in here out of the blue and want to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[angelicjackles]

— reckless heroine.

cw: fem!reader, best friend!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a smidge of fluff, injuries and blood descriptions — 2.2k a/n: this is the first time I've posted anything publicly in years so consider this a testing the waters fic, trying to find my groove and decide if i want to make this a regular thing.

summary: after a rough, but successful hunt, you and dean arrive back at the motel, only you were reckless and got injured, some duct tape patching up ensues from an angry dean.

The storm had arrived just as Dean and her pulled into the grimy parking lot of the Twin Pines Motel, how very Montana. The heavy raindrops pummeled against the windows like a stark warning. The sky rumbled with low growls, and flashes of jagged light illuminated the dim, rundown building. Inside their basic motel room, the air was thick with tension and the unmistakable smell of almost damp carpet—a cheerful welcome after a semi-successful hunt with a werewolf.

Dean slammed the creaky motel door shut behind them, the force alone almost enough to splinter the plaster around the hinges, his expression a maelstrom of anger and concern blended into one explosive temper as he flicked the lightswitch, the gross orange-ish glow of the overhead bulb highlighted the unsavoury nature of their accommodation. They’d come a long way from Kansas for this hunt.

Sam and Cas took off East together for a potential case, something something bizarre circumstances, frankly, there’d been little resistance offered when the duo took off to the east coast, leaving her and Dean to take Montana—although if they were real, they’d probably have taken anywhere over the east coast.

The door was barely closed for a moment before his gruff voice crackled through the air like a whip. “Did that brewing concussion knock all damn common sense out of your head?” Dean snapped angrily, his demandingly sharp voice rising above the impending storm. “You got a fucking death wish or something?”

She grimaced, carefully moving to sit on one of the twin beds, feeling the throbbing pain radiating from the gash on the back of her shoulder, the wound still steadily leaking blood, instinctively rubbing the spot on the back of your head that had collided with the concrete earlier in the night when he mentioned a concussion.

“Very funny,” she retorted in deadpan, infusing her tone with a touch of biting sarcasm that was quickly becoming a defence mechanism, and all but guaranteed to rile him up further. “The victim needed help, she was bleeding out and scared, and unlike you I actually gave a shit about more than ganking the mutt.” The implication that he didn’t care if the victim survived so long as they handled the werewolf wasn’t helping Dean’s mood, but the remorse she showed was negligible. “Besides, I handled it, didn’t I? And it worked—aren’t you always telling me ‘trust your instincts, your instincts are good’.” she added on before he had a chance to respond, putting an emphasis on the drawl of his voice. The mock only made that muscle in his jaw clench so hard it wouldn’t be a surprise if his teeth shattered. Heed the warning.

A growl bubbled in the back of his throat, but somehow he managed to keep it partially contained and tossed both his and her bags down onto the bed she hadn’t plopped down on. He may be pissed at her right now but that didn’t mean he was going to let his injured best friend carry her own bag. “Trust your instincts?” He gestured wildly with his hand, like that would somehow show just how worked up he was right now. She was getting to him, bad, and it was taking every ounce of willpower he was summoning from Chuck only knows where to stop from lashing out at her. “You were reckless and got yourself attacked in the process of playing heroine!” He rasped, his low voice reverberating off the thin motel walls with how loud his words escaped. 

Just for good measure he had to force his eyes elsewhere, just so he’d stop being faced with those claw marks on your shoulder, every glance at them made something in him coil and burn. Stomping towards the foot of the unoccupied bed, he aggressively unzipped his duffle bag and rummaged through it. Meanwhile she was busy shedding herself of the unnecessary clothing and gear, kicking her shoes off and abandoning them on the mysteriously patchy carpet next to the bed, unbuckling her belt and unlatching the clasp on the blade sheath on her hip, tossing both onto the lone chair off to the side of the beds.

Finally after a few long moments his fingers found the squished edges of the first-aid kit he’d grown used to keeping in there—the first-aid kit that only remained stocked up because she meticulously replenished what she, him and Sam went through after every hunt—Snagging it up, deft fingers were quick to unzip and flick through it haphazardly, plucking out several different medical supplies.

When he realised she hadn’t responded to his last few retorts, which was uncharacteristic for her, his eyes flickered back towards her, forest green eyes darkening at the blood leaking against her pale skin. “You put yourself in danger, again, and walked away with a souvenir I’m not too keen on.” He continued despite his better judgement, gesturing angrily at the deep werewolf claw marks on the back of your shoulder blade, having torn through her flannel and undershirt, soaking both in bright crimson and leaving her down to a base layer tank top.

The retort had her glancing over her shoulder, but able to see little more than the dark streaks of blood sticking to wet skin. The amount of blood she’d lost so far wasn’t enough to be life-threatening, but it was definitely a worrying situation that needed attention. God forbid the pair didn’t do their back-and-forth arguing before that though, not like she was bleeding out over here or anything. “You’re lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.” He grumbled, not so hotly as before, the edges of concern leaking into his voice. “These are gonna scar ugly...” The last part was more of an afterthought.

“More to add to the collection,” she mused out far too casually for the situation. “What did you ju—” He interjected, a warning hiss in his voice, but she was quick to wave a dismissive hand over her shoulder at him. “Forget it.” She brushed off, cutting off his warning remark.

‘It’s like she’s trying to piss me off,’ Dean thought to himself, and hell maybe she was. “For once, couldn’t you have followed the game plan, sweetheart? Fuckin’ hell…” His tone was a mixture of worried fondness and scolding terseness. Either way, she was quick to turn her entire body around on the bed to glare at him, ignoring the searing pain from her wound with the quick movement.

“Oh? Am I supposed to bow down to Dean Winchester’s expert advice? Follow orders blindly?” She shot back at him, a chilling kind of coolness to her voice. “‘Cause I’m pretty sure that’s your speciality,” she added, venomously, the tension in her voice masking the discomfort that coiled within her body.

And she could have sworn she saw him flinch as soon as the words tumbled out of her mouth, making a low simmering pit of guilt fester inside her, knowing she was out of line. Low blow. His gaze pained for a fleeting moment, pretty green eyes widening and mouth falling open the smallest amount like those words had quite literally taken the breath from his lungs; but it quickly hardened again as he stewed on those words, cracking open a bottle of antiseptic with more force than necessary. “Just— shut up, for once.” It was almost a plea, more of a pained demand, but she knew she’d hit a nerve. “Sit still and let me patch you up, okay? I may not be a doctor, but I can keep your ass from bleeding out.”

She rolled your eyes, watching as he pulled out a smorgasbord of supplies from the first-aid kit. “I’m perfectly capable of handling my own medical emergencies. This isn’t my first skirmish with fangs and claws, Dean. I don’t need your help,” her voice came out more snapped than intended.

Despite the fact they both knew the precocious positioning of this wound left her unable to attend to it herself, she’d have to be a pretty fine contortionist to deal with it without help. Dean opened his mouth to inform his best friend of just that but thought better of it in the final second, slowly his mouth slipped closed.

A frustrated grunt slipped past his lips and one hand racked impatiently through his short, messy locks. “Well, congratulations on surviving past encounters, but this looks like a crime scene,” he replied tersely before sighing in frustration, the adrenaline of the situation beginning to die. “—plus, you’re bleeding on my marginally clean bed,” he added on, in an attempt to diffuse the situation, which pulled a scoffed laugh from her mouth before it could be helped.

His tense shoulders dropped slightly in relief when she responded by gingerly peeling the fabric of her black tank top away from the wound, letting it slip down off her slender shoulder so he’d have access. 

The next fifteen minutes were deafeningly quiet, the only sounds were the soft pained noises that left her mouth, and the heavy breaths of concentration from Dean as he worked at disinfecting and patching up the wound on her shoulder as best as possible - Would this be easier to do in the bathroom instead of on the bed? Absolutely, but here they were.

Thankfully the wound didn’t need stitches, the claw marks the werewolf had left her with were nasty but not deep enough to be genuinely worrisome—not that it would stop Dean from worrying like a motherfucker. They’d leave some impressively disgusting scars, and hurt like a bitch for the next couple weeks as they healed, and as much as he was tempted to suggest going to the nearest a&e to get her properly seen to, just to be safe, he knew what her answer would be, so that wasn’t a battle he’d win. His basic hunter duct-taping would have to suffice.

The mood wasn’t great, both seething with worry and anger and pain that blended together into a chokingly intense thickness that lingered like smoke in the air, so it was in everyone’s best interests that they shut up.

“Done.”

Those words out of his mouth seemed to break the atmosphere and she slowly glanced back at him over her shoulder right in time for his thumbs to smooth out the medical tape that adhered the thick, white dressings to her pale skin, his touch extremely gentle despite everything, ensuring the tape wouldn’t come loose.

Turning on the bed so she was facing him as he remained stood up, her shoulders rolled back slowly, testing out the movement with the fresh patch up, it seemed to be healing. “How’s it looking, doc?” She quipped, her voice slightly lilted, making a weak attempt to lighten the mood up, too damn tired to argue further with him. His mouth quirked up in what could be described as a lazy grin. “Think you might just survive the night, thanks to the tireless effort of your handsome doctor.” He teased, only because he wanted to see her roll her eyes in that fondly affectionate way, and he got his wish.

The way she made a point to shake her head at him was all he needed to see to know that the sparky atmosphere had diminished; even though it was likely due to the adrenaline dying out and the pain kicking in.

His eyes followed her when she pushed herself to stand up, hands instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Mm, I don’t know, can’t say the bloody hands add to the sex appeal.” She hummed, eyes flicking down to his hands that were stained with her blood, hands that were now staining her arm in deep crimson too, her brows furrowing in distaste, but he didn’t seem in a rush to pull his hand back so she didn’t move to knock him off either. His gaze dropped to the offending hands in question, nose scrunching up at the sight of the blood as his thumb stroked against her elbow. “So… you’re saying I have sex appeal?” 

The tone of his voice in that moment was the most playful thing she’d heard from him in a long time. She couldn’t help but laugh, a real hearty ‘you’re such an idiot’ kind of laugh, the kind that had him grinning crookedly at her in return.

“Your ego needs no further stroking, I’m gonna plead the fifth on that one.” She held her hands up in mock surrender, which only rumbled an amused laugh from deep in his chest.

“That’s my girl.” Dean beamed, running his tongue over his teeth with a soft sigh. The adrenaline had long since faded and now he was left with that anxious worry and tired stress lingering in his body. “Fuck… C’mere, you,” he beckoned suddenly, barely giving her time to register his words before he was pulling her in against his chest, strong arms wrapping around her in such a delicate way, careful of her injuries while somehow managing to squish her into him. The height difference leaving the top of her head tucked perfectly underneath his chin as his fingers carted through her messy hair.

“Look... Call a truce, sweetheart?” The gruff hunter muttered into her hair, his arms cradling her close to his larger body. “Truce.” She conceded, placing a complacent kiss against his clothed shoulder, which earned a soft little rumbly hum from him.

The storm raged outside, but within the cramped motel room, a warmth had blossomed between the pair of them—a reminder that despite all the chaos of the job, it was them against the world and in this tempest, as the thunder rolled across the darkening horizon and the lightning split the sky, they both knew they’d face them together, side by side.

[personasintro]

Mutual Help | #40

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 17k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢ 

Jungkook wakes up to an empty bed. Yesterday's events hunted him in his dreams as he kept dreaming about it, causing him to wake up with a sour mood. He takes his time to get ready for the day, not really sure how everyone is feeling after yesterday's drama. To be honest, that's not what is truly bugging him. It's you.

He doesn't see you downstairs when he joins the others for breakfast. He makes sure to look around the table but he doesn't see you anywhere. Maybe you're in the kitchen or will come downstairs in a bit. But by the time Jungkook finishes the last bite of his sandwich, you haven't come and that's when he realizes you are not coming any time soon.

Everyone seems to be fine, there's no awkwardness lingering in the air as everyone chats as nothing happened. The only person he finds quiet is Kiko who is sitting next to him, barely eating her bowl of fruit as she keeps nudging it with a fork. They haven't talked since yesterday and since he woke up to an already empty bed, they haven't had the chance to.

But what's there to talk about? Jungkook said everything he wanted and can see yesterday's events aren't indifferent to her as well. He believes her when she said it was a mistake and it probably slipped, but he can't help but feel pissed at that. How can he not when all he can think about is your tears running down your cheeks? He has never seen you in such a state when you were hurt, angry and ready to physically attack his girlfriend.

It bothers him that Kiko didn't even consider that your asshole boyfriend doesn't know about the whole fake dating thing. Oh fuck, and what he said to you yesterday... he thought he'd punch him even more. How dare he assume you slept with Jimin and Taehyung too? He gets it, you and him are close and any boyfriend wouldn't be pleased knowing his girlfriend and her best friend slept together. A lot of times, actually. It's a lot to take and swallow, he gets that.

Your friendship is often misunderstood by others, it's what you and him got used to after such a long time of being so close and friends. But him assuming such a thing and most importantly talking to you like that, is completely out of place and it makes his blood boil. Every time he thinks about it, he regrets not punching him until his nose would break. He disrespected you. In front of everyone which made you embarrassed for sure and even more hurt. But Jungkook is glad he has done it in front of everyone.

If Haneul talked to you in private, who knows if you'd ever tell him he treated you like this. This way Jungkook got to punch him and show him you're not someone to get messed with.

As Jungkook sips on his coffee and lets his eyes travel around the room, always looking around in case he sees you. As he stays leaning against the wall, he makes it quite obvious that he's clearly searching for you and it's something Jimin notices as soon as he comes out of the dining room with Taehyung by his side.

"She's not coming," Jimin says, answering Jungkook's silent question that has never been spoken but it's very clear in his eyes and to his friends.

Jungkook looks at Jimin, eyes glinting with sadness as Jimin has a very similar look on his face meanwhile Taehyung's lips are crooked in displeased pout.

"Why?" Is simple and Jungkook's question, even though he probably knows why. But he still hoped he'd get to see you today and of course, he's worried about you.

"I think we all know why," Jimin answers softly, brows curving in sadness. "We wanted her to at least come downstairs but she refused. She wants to be left alone."

"I feel so sorry for her," Taehyung admits, pouting. "Even today is supposed to be fun for her. Imagine celebrating New Year's Eve with a heartbreak."

Taehyung is definitely not making it better, making Jungkook feel even worse because he can barely imagine what you're going through. Even though the idiot isn't worth it and you barely know him for a month. But he's in no way questioning you being sad, it's understandable you're sad and hurt.

Jungkook frowns, glancing at his cup of coffee in a thought. "I should check on her."

"Yeah, about that..." Jimin scratches his neck sheepishly. "She said she wants to be left alone."

"Yeah, you said that," Jungkook frowns again, "But I want to check on her. I'll be beside her for a whole day if it helps."

"I don't think that's a good idea, Jungkook. I know you guys are best friends but she said she doesn't want anyone to bother her."

He still keeps frowning, determined to check on you no matter what Jimin is saying. He's not just anyone, is he? 

"But I'm not just--"

"Jesus, Kook. She specifically told us to tell you she wants to be alone." Taehyung lets out, raising his voice a little.

Jungkook's mouth hangs open in disbelief as Jimin sighs and glares at Taehyung who just shrugs. "What? You're awful at being straightforward." Taehyung mumbles, glancing pitifully at Jungkook.

"She said that?" Jungkook whispers, placing his cup of coffee on a nearby console table beside him. "Why?"

He really tries to sound unbothered, but it's clear how quickly saddened he grows at what Taehyung just revealed.

"Listen, I don't think it's something personal. She told Taehyung to fuck off once he tried to get her out of bed and then almost suffocated her by cuddling her."

Jungkook would've laughed at that, because it definitely sounds like you being moody, but he can't because all he thinks about is you saying you want to be left alone while mentioning Jungkook. Somehow, he'd have thought it doesn't apply to him. According to Taehyung, it definitely applies to him the most. As if you knew you're going to be on his mind and him wanting to check on you.

"Yeah, she gets very vocal when she's annoyed," Taehyung tries to lighten up the mood with a light chuckle. "Look, she's gonna be fine. She knows we're here for her whenever she needs us. But she needs space right now. We've been with her the whole night and would stay there if she didn't kick us, literally."

Jimin nods, looking at Taehyung. "This is so far the smartest thing you've said on this trip."

"Yo, fuck you." Taehyung shoots right back, frowning at Jimin.

"Fuck you, you're the one spitting bullshit all the time." Jimin says back, earning a dramatic gasp from Taehyung but before they can bicker, Jungkook opens his mouth ignoring the two.

"Alright," Jungkook sighs, straightening himself. "If she doesn't want to see me, I'm not gonna force myself where I'm not welcomed."

He grabs the cup of coffee, spilling the remaining liquid in the sink as soon as he comes to the kitchen. He spends a few minutes there, cleaning the cup before he joins the others in the living room where Hoseok calls for him to join them in a video game. So he does, maybe this way he'll keep being distracted from disobeying your wishes and from pounding on your door to check on you.

No messages. No calls.

It's not like you expected him to reach out to you first, especially not after the way he was acting yesterday and earned a painful punch from Jungkook. Still, you at least had a hope he'd let you know if he made it safely to Seoul since he said he's not breaking up with you.

Do you even want to be with him? The thing he said yesterday was the last drop that you barely were able to hold and you felt like you're being the one punched in the face. You had so much hope in your relationship and now you're completely clueless what will happen from now on. If only he kept his mouth shut, maybe you'll feel even more guilty and wouldn't feel so much anger at his disrespect aimed towards you. Not only did he make you embarrassed, he verbally slapped you in your face when he assumed you slept with Jimin and Taehyung. That was so low and immature of him. Maybe it hurts this much because you've never thought he'd be capable of saying such a thing.

So as the sun keeps peeking through the window, you stay in bed while trying to keep yourself busy while watching random YouTube videos on your phone. The last thing you think about is getting out of this room. Not yet. You still have a couple of hours before you've to get ready. Ready to dress up for New Year's Eve, one of the main reasons why you came here. But also to get ready to face everyone because you just know they'll stare pitifully at you.

You don't want to give them reason to, though. You don't need their pity. Someone else will need it.

It's twenty-eight minutes to three when your phone chimes with a new message and your breath gets stuck in your throat, wondering who's texting you. Jimin and Taehyung must've told him you want to be alone, considering he hasn't been knocking on your door today. But apparently he can't hold himself back any longer.

You see the message on your locked screen, staring right back at you.

Kook: tell me if you're okay

Your heart cracks at his thoughtfulness, wondering if he's going to hate you for no longer wanting to play decently with his girlfriend. But this is not about him, not even when you can hurt him in the process. This is between you and her. However, you know Jungkook and you know he'll take it personally.

You don't reply to him, letting your thoughts distract you until your phone chimes in with another message.

Kook: at least text me back or I'm coming upstairs

Kook: I've no problem with kicking the door down 

Of course he has no problem with that. And for the first time today, you find yourself breathing out a very light chuckle.

"I'm not sure if jin would appreciate that" You text him back, not having to wait long for a reply.

Kook: good thing I don't care what Jin thinks 

Kook: I care about you right now 

Your eyes water, not really sure if it's because you're emotional about his straightforward words or the fact you're still pretty much sensitive. You cuddle up to your duvet, wiping your tears.

"I'm okay just want some time alone"

He doesn't text back, giving you the space you're asking for.

Good. You still have a few hours to brace yourself, you think as you stare in the distance at the closet.

Jungkook stares at his reflection in the mirror, adjusting his black suit which is decorated with tiny silver stripes on it. It's not too eye-catching but not boring. His other option is just to wear a turtleneck minus the suit, but he figured he'll get hot either way considering he's about to drink and stay indoors. So he chose a casual black button-up, leaving a few buttons unbuttoned just for the right measure. He hasn't done anything special to his hair, just left it parted in the middle as the ends stay somehow curled from the shower he took after his work-out and before he was about to get ready for tonight.

The room he shares with his girlfriend is quiet other than the R&B music playing quietly from the speaker he brought with himself. He thought it's a nice way to fill the awkward silence in the room while they both get ready for tonight.

Kiko hasn't been talking to him that much, he probably thinks it has something to do with him snapping at her yesterday night when he joined her to the bed. He does feel slightly guilty from doing it, but doesn't put too much effort in saying anything. He's not sure what to say.

"Jungkook?"

His arms fall down off his suit, eyes searching for Kiko in the reflection as he finds her already looking at him. Her make-up is done, it's light as usual but her features are more defined and eyes bigger thanks to the eyeliner decorating her eyelids. She looks beautiful and even though her features remain soft, she looks a little tense while looking at him.

She's wearing a light blue sleeveless dress, turtleneck dress to be exact which adds more modesty to her cleavage. The skirt of the dress is flared and flowy, creating a beautiful but cute look at the same time. It's not too revealing, but mesmerizing enough to make you look at it and compliment it and her. Just by the one look Jungkook can tell this is her style, but still is quite surprised to see how beautiful she looks in it. Maybe surprised is not the right word for it, he definitely knows she's beautiful, with or without her make-up and dress.

He turns around, eyes cutely looking at her in question as she turns around to him with exposed back. "Can you please help with the zip?" she asks, gently pulling her curled hair over her shoulder as he nods, clearing his throat when he realizes she can't see him now.

"Yeah," he lets out lightly, taking a few steps towards her until he reaches for the zip. In one swift movement, he zips up her dress and she turns around, thanking him gracefully.

Her brown eyes search his face for a moment, hand hesitantly reaching for his button-up as she straightens up the little crease.

"You look beautiful." he mumbles softly, speaking out his thoughts as he watches her with softness in his eyes.

"Thank you," she smiles, "You look great too."

He chuckles, shaking his head at her compliment, somehow growing sheepish when she compliments him. She lets her hand stay on his chest for a while, before she drops it and stares at her feet.

"I know I said it already... but I'm sorry. I really am. I wish I could do something to fix this." she says, forcing herself to stare him in the eyes when she says it.

Sadness and honesty. Those two emotions are very easy to detect for Jungkook. He knows it was just a matter of time before she brings this topic up again. And he doesn't mind it because he definitely doesn't want to spend this trip, or ever, not voicing out the elephant in the room. They should talk about it, he knows. But just knowing you're on the other side of this hallway, god knows doing what because you haven't even stepped out of that fucking room today, it makes him crazy.

He's worried and you clearly don't want anyone there. He's still hesitating if he should listen to you and stay away, or just ignore you and knock on those doors until you open. Or knock them down. If it means he's selfish, then so be it. If he sees you're okay with his own eyes, he doesn't care what that makes him.

Unfortunately, Kiko is not the only person who wishes there could be a way to fix this. Because there isn't. Haneul is gone, most likely back in Seoul and getting drunk with his young and immature friends, crying that he got his heart broken and god knows what he's saying about you behind your back.

It makes Jungkook clench his jaw, wanting nothing else than to shake these thoughts away because he's just making himself even more angry. He still tries not to think about Haneul's awful words of accusation. You don't deserve that. You're not a bad person.

"You can't," Jungkook simply says, not wanting to think about his thoughts all over again. "But I appreciate that you're acknowledging your mistake." he tells her honestly, seeing her nod as she swallows dryly.

"I knew I made a mistake the moment I said it and looked at his face. I'm so sorry, I knew I shouldn't have assumed. And Y/N deserves my apology, I'd do anything to let her know how sorry I am."

She sounds desperate, sad and broken, truly disappointed with herself and it breaks Jungkook even more. He has realized a long time ago it's her fault, she shouldn't have said it. Period. But seeing you and her being so sad just settles an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. He doesn't like any of you being sad and this whole situation is bizarre enough as it is.

"Yeah, just don't talk to her if she decides to join us," Jungkook mutters, tongue pressing against his front teeth. "I know you want to apologize to her, I just think it's better to leave her alone for now."

"Thank you," she speaks up, causing Jungkook to look down at her with furrowed brows in confusion. "For you know... being there for her. If you weren't there, she'd probably... I got scared there for a second, I really thought she's about to attack me."

"Because she was," Jungkook deadpans, "I haven't seen her so angry before, but she's not a violent person,"

He knows it must sound stupid, considering you were literally fuming and about to fight his girlfriend. And you definitely have more strength in you than he expected. You were trashing in his arms so much, thankfully he just had to hold you tighter to keep you from attacking Kiko. But he hasn't done it just because of her. But he knows you'd regret it later. Like he said, you're not a violent person but then, you never really had any reason to be. He knows even if you say something that seems cold and heartless, you always mean well and most of the time you regret it after some time.

"She's hurt. You had no right to assume anything about their relationship, and you definitely had no right to say anything that involved our deal. I told you because I could trust you. It was Y/N's decision to make if she wanted to tell him or not. She respected me and didn't tell you, she even supported it when I asked her if I should tell you,"

Kiko seems a little surprised, nodding nevertheless to his words in agreement.

"I know you know that, I know you regret it. But it doesn't make it okay,"

She nods, agreeing with him in a heartbeat.

"I'm just like this because... things were getting so good and yesterday ruined everything. But most importantly, Y/N is hurting right now and there's nothing we can do to help. She probably hates your guts right now." he points out.

"I hate myself too." Kiko says, shrugging as she tries to chuckle to easen the mood but he notices the way her lips curl into a saddened smile.

"Hey," Jungkook says softly, placing his hands on her shoulders as he makes her look at him. "I don't want to hear this. You don't have to hate yourself. You made a mistake, yes. And things are too fresh to let everything be okay. But I really appreciate you acknowledging you made a mistake. And I think Y/N would appreciate it too if she wasn't so hurt and angry. You've to understand there are a lot of emotions she's dealing with right now."

"We all know why she truly hates me, Kookie," Kiko offers softly, "And what happened yesterday just added fuel into the fire."

"But she was okay until yesterday happened," Jungkook protests. He obviously knows you haven't been fond of Kiko ever since the news of her cheating came out, actually ever since she broke up with him for no reason. But after the two of you talked, he could see you trying and it made him feel so much at ease.

But yesterday changed everything and now it's even worse, because it directly involves you right now.

"What's done is done. Don't beat yourself for it too much. You made a mistake, but you don't have to hate yourself now, Kik." he tells her, thumb rubbing her cheek as she smiles gratefully at him but he can see there's a lot of hesitance in her eyes.

A knock resounds in their room, both of them turning to the door before Jungkook calls out 'Yeah?' to whoever is there.

"Party is starting, come downstairs when you're ready." Hoseok calls out, both of them yelling 'Alright' at the same time before he hears him doing the same to the next door, hearing Taehyung yelling something in excitement.

"Let's go, I could use a drink." Jungkook mumbles, straightening his suit for the last time and turning off the music before he outstretches his hand to Kiko.

She smiles, taking his hand gracefully as they both make it out of their room.

It's some time past seven. Almost five hours till midnight. And still no sight of you joining the others downstairs. The various styles of songs, thanks to the built-in speakers in the entire cabin, play downstairs and set the party to a comfortable and fun environment. However, it doesn't help too much for Jungkook considering he's been clutching his can of beer for the past hour, eyeing the stairs just in case you were about to come out. Not even talking to Jimin and Taehyung, or more like just standing beside them while listening to them talking, hasn't been that much of a distraction.

They're both on the edge but unlike Jungkook, they actually try to hide their worries and distract themselves with each other's presence, and alcohol. Which to Jungkook, doesn't help too much and if he wasn't already having his third can of beer, he'd most likely reach for hard liquor. Vodka, whiskey... anything stronger than a beer.

But of course, he doesn't want to be overly dramatic. If you don't want to come to the party and feel like celebrating, he totally understands that. But he doesn't want you to be alone, especially when the cabin is full of people and well, he's here. How can he celebrate and have fun when you're upstairs obviously not feeling well? Right, five more minutes and he's going upstairs. This is unacceptable--

"Kook, don't worry," Jimin speaks up, cutting off Jungkook's thoughts of worries. "She said she'll come."

Yeah, that's right. Apparently, you spoke to Jimin and said you'll come downstairs. But the party has been going on for two hours and there's no sight of you.

All Jungkook can muster is a mere nod, not even denying that yes, all he can think about is whether you'll make it downstairs or not. He just wants to know.

"We all want her to join," Taehyung says, offering Jungkook a slight smile looking at him with sincere eyes. "But staring at those stairs every few seconds won't help."

"Taehyungie," Jimin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose at his friend's bluntness.

"What? I'm just sayin'." he shrugs.

"You're always just sayin'." Jimin retorts, snorting underneath his breath, causing Taehyung's brows to frown as he opens his mouth to say something back, but before he can do that Jungkook is mindlessly throwing another glance at the stairs.

"It's okay if she doesn't want to come downstairs. I'm just worried how she is and if she's about to spend tonight upstairs all alone, I think we should be there for her." Jungkook speaks up, ignoring the little quarrel the two of them have.

"We are all worried, Kook," Jimin offers softly, "Just give her time."

Jungkook sighs. Time. That's all he's been hearing the whole day. Apparently, you need a lot of time. And that's okay. He just wants to see you because somehow, he doesn't believe no one and anything. Not until he sees you with his own eyes.

However, he's completely oblivious to your inner battle and you standing upstairs, just right in front of your already closed room. All glammed up with a fire of irritation and anger inside you. You've spent an hour to make yourself look amazing, hide your puffy eyes and distress with make-up. Even though it helped your puffy eyes that are no longer puffy, you could still see your reflection that lacked any emotion. You looked empty.

And maybe you still do.

But you're not going to be a crybaby about this. You're going to show you're not someone that gets to mess around with. It's not like you're plotting some kind of revenge, no. You're just not going to hold yourself back.

With a last sight in the empty hallway, you start walking towards the loud upbeat music. And for the first time today, you actually chuckle even though it's a bitter one. Someone up there is certainly mocking you as you listen to the lyrics of the song that gets more clear with each step you take.

"I ain't lookin' for enemies but I ain't playin' nice" is what the singer sings. Relatable, you think as a sly grin makes its way on your lips and your steps grow more confident with every step and second.

Downstairs, Jungkook allows himself to relax slightly. Not that the conversation with the guys helped too much, but deep down he knows they're right. He's being just overly worried like always. He joins the conversation, uttering a few words every now and then. This lasts a couple of minutes, not that he's counting but it definitely felt like a long time, until he mindlessly goes for a chug from his beer, eyes moving automatically towards the stairs even though he doesn't put that much thought to it. At least this time, it's not completely conscious and planned.

And the exact moment he sees you, not believing his eyes because you stand there walking down the stairs. The lyrics "what the fuck" sums up his thoughts perfectly and he chokes up on the beer, the bubbles scratching the back of his throat uncomfortably as his widened eyes stay at you.

He's not the only one because Taehyung and Jimin are already looking at you too, the view of you is right in front of them considering they're standing nearby the staircase. Jungkook doesn't pry his eyes off you, too shocked to see you and especially like this, but if he could he'd be able to see his friends' jaws on the floor as Jimin whistles.

You make it downstairs, glancing at your three friends as they look as if you've grown two heads. Jungkook goes to wipe his chin with the back of his hand, while Taehyung mutters something underneath his breath that you don't catch but makes him clear his throat while Jimin eyes you up and down shamelessly.

"You made it!"

"What the fuck."

Jimin and Jungkook speak at the same time, and even though Jimin's words were more exclamations of happiness, Jungkook's words were uttered confusingly. The four of you stay silent, your eyes narrowing at Jungkook as he stares right back at you with an unreadable gaze. Taehyung pokes him with his elbow, clearing his throat again as he smiles at you with a boxy smile.

"He meant that you look absolutely amazing." Taehyung tries to cover for Jungkook and you go along with him, giving the two of them a stiff nod.

You definitely look absolutely amazing.

There's no point of denying that. The three men know it, you literally made them stop talking and just stare at you the moment they've noticed you.

The nocturnal slip dress, satin and very thin dress to be exact, is tight and loose in all the right places. It's hard to describe but it definitely suits your body and shows your curves just right. It's sexy, mature but the neckline is not too deep, so it doesn't show the top of your breasts. But the dress definitely wraps around them perfectly, making you even sexier. The pink color, champagne pink compliments your skin tone and you look like a freaking goddess herself with big wavy hair. The dress is short, showing off your legs as well and the goddamn heels you're wearing makes them look even longer.

There is also a thin diamond choker wrapped around your neck, bringing more attention to that area and especially your exposed collarbones.

It's been a while since any of them have seen you wearing something like this. But to be fair, they've never seen you wearing these kinds of dresses. It's definitely different from your usual jeans, sweatpants and leggings kind of outfits.

"You do look amazing." Jungkook decides to speak, offering you a gentle glance but all he's met is you glancing at him unbothered, saying a simple and kind of dry 'thanks'.

He's not sure how to react or what to think about your odd reaction, even though you just thanked him back. Jungkook has always been the first one to detect when there's something weird going on with you and he's definitely more observant now. He knows you've been through a lot, basically locked yourself in a room alone not wanting to speak to neither of them that much. He doesn't know what to think right now, but he's cautious and Jimin and Taehyung seem to be the same.

Taehyung widens his eyes and raises his brows, deciding gulping down his beer is the best option for him. Jimin smiles at you, the smile looking careful and nervous but still honest.

"I'm glad you came, we've been waiting for you." he says, chuckling a little when you seem to lack any kind of reaction as you just stare at him.

"Why do you look so surprised, though? I told you I'd come." you mutter, glancing at Jungkook whose brows seem slightly narrowed as he stares at you with a baffled look.

You clear your throat, taking the can of beer from his hands as he gapes at you while you take a huge gulp of it. "Enough of staying by myself. Let's just have fun, right?" you smile, patting Jungkook's chest as he gapes at you all over again, slowly looking down at your hands on his half exposed chest.

You remain unbothered, the touch lasting just around two seconds before you're pulling away and brushing past him, still holding his beer. He's not getting it back for sure, he's certain of that.

The three men gape at you as you make it to the living room, catching Maya's attention as she's already rushing towards you and pulling you into a hug. Namjoon notices you too, joining the two of you as he beams at you with a friendly smile, opening his mouth to say something.

"Jungkook already said it but... what the fuck." Taehyung mutters, still staring at you as you laugh at something Maya said.

"Let's just... leave her be. She's probably just trying to distract herself. What could we expect, am I right? She's not magically going to be the old happy Y/N." Jimin tells them, offering a positive option and speech as always, meanwhile Jungkook is watching you with furrowed brows.

He's speechless. He can't bring himself to say anything. All he knows is that for some reason, he doesn't like this. But at least you're here now and it settles a tiny feeling of relief in his chest. But it's barely recognizable with the uncomfortable twist in the pit of his stomach.

"... you should join us next time Y/N." Namjoon says, turning to you as he takes a decent sip from his wine.

The silver watch on his wrist glimmers underneath the dim lightning, catching your attention for a brief second before you meet his eyes looking at you while drinking wine. He's been talking about his plans with Maya in spring, when the weather will be warmer and suitable for some hiking.

There's a glint of amusement in his tone as he ends his talk with proposing you joining them the next time, the memories of your last hiking with him causes you to let out a breathy chuckle. Maybe you were whining a little while hiking up the hill but you definitely enjoyed being away from the city, surrounded by the green nature. Now, the idea sounds even better.

"Joonie, the true hiking with you, I mean when you're in charge of the route, is like asking for death," Maya says, squeezing her boyfriend's shoulder as you snicker underneath your breath when Namjoon opens his mouth, gasping. She looks back at you, noticing you holding back your laugh. "No, I'm serious. He'd walk to the end of the world if it was possible. He has no empathy for slackers or someone who's walking a little behind him,"

You haven't had the true honor to experience 'Namjoon hike' as Maya called it a few minutes ago when her boyfriend started talking about this particular topic. Namjoon was a great partner for hiking back when you were on a camping trip, his presence overall was very calming. But there might be some truth to her words. Back then, everyone went on a hike together and there wasn't exactly someone in charge. If Kiko didn't fall and injure her ankle, you get the feeling Namjoon would go way further than you actually went.

"Besides, I could use the whole physical work-out some other way." She winks shamelessly at her boyfriend, Namjoon's cheeks flashing red as he exclaims her name dramatically as you giggle at the two of them.

"Oh my god," Namjoon breathes out, flashing you a nervous chuckle as he tries to play it off meanwhile you and Maya cackle at his reaction. "You know what? You're free to join us, Y/N."

"Oh, is she?"

You snort, Namjoon choking over his words as he furiously shakes his head before glaring at his girlfriend. "For hiking, you're free to join us on our hike in the future. I'm gonna grab some wine now, oh my god." He keeps mumbling something, frustratedly leaving the two of you to keep laughing.

You see him entering the kitchen, pouring himself the promised wine as Maya starts laughing with you even more. Your laugh dies down slowly as you both keep snickering. Maya glances at you, smiling before she looks behind you, her eyes lingering there for a while which causes your curiosity to win over and you look over your shoulder.

Clearly, her attention snatched none other than Jungkook who's casually chatting to Seokjin and his wife. If you looked harder, you could notice Kiko standing beside him but from your point of view, Jungkook is covering her body for the most part. He better be, you think – even if he's not doing that intentionally.

You can't blame Maya for staring at him, considering his great sense of style and well, him and his face. But that's probably not the main reason why she stares at him. There's no doubt she heard what Haneul said yesterday, everyone heard that. Those who didn't know you and Jungkook hooked up surely know that now. Even though you kind of think everyone at least had an idea or just didn't care. And you didn't care that much too, after all, it's your and Jungkook's privacy and it's no one's business but yours.

Part of you doesn't care about what anyone has to say or think. The other part, the smaller one, wonders if Maya thinks of you differently. It'd be a shame, you really like her and her presence.

So you turn around, catching her attention this time as she gives you an apologetic look almost as if apologizing for letting her curiosity take over.

"Just ask," you sigh, "Everyone knows at this point, right? There's nothing to hide." you mutter dryly, taking a gulp of your beer.

"I'm sorry," she says, "I was just... I'm not judging you or anything, I hope you don't think that." she assures you, causing you to shake your head.

"Honestly, I don't care if someone judges me or not."

She nods, shifting on her heels slightly. "I mean... I can't blame you." she mutters, causing you to look at her in confusion.

"What?"

"No, it's nothing, ignore me." she starts laughing, growing suddenly nervous which is very rare for her.

It causes you to narrow your eyes. "You started, just spill it."

She sighs and starts chuckling at herself for a moment while you stare at her with confused eyes. "I can't blame you, that you've slept with Jungkook, I mean... just look at him," You widen your eyes, opening your mouth in shock as she quickly jumps to clarify. "I know I've a boyfriend, I love Joonie! I wouldn't change him, but clearly... I've got eyes and wow. If I was single and--"

"Okay, okay, I get it," you stop her, looking at her with furrowed brows before you burst giggling at the look she's giving you. She looks nervous, shy but amused at the same time. "God, don't let Namjoon hear."

"What? He knows he's hot. I told him when he first showed me some pictures from the camping trip."

You almost choke on your spit, chuckling at her as you shake your head. "I'm sure he liked to hear that." you muse, causing her to snicker.

"Well, he knows he's the only man in my life," she says giggling, but there's nothing but honesty in her voice. She glances around, finding Namjoon as her eyes soften immediately and you can see the love in them.

You stand there for a moment, nibbling on the inside of your cheek before Maya looks back at you and her features soften in a friendly worry. "I'm glad you joined us tonight, I know what you're going through right now is not easy but I'm here for you. I know we don't know each other for long, but I'm here if you need a friend."

"Thanks, that's nice to hear." you tell her, forcing yourself to smile her way. You appreciate her saying it, you just feel that stab in your chest every few minutes and you realize that no, you're not having fun like you promised yourself. You just wish people would stop bringing it up.

"I know you've Jungkook, Taehyung and Jimin, but me and Joon are always here if you need someone else," she says and god, she's very sweet and attentive but you don't like that she keeps talking about this topic. It just reminds you how mad and hurt you're feeling.

Although, you stay quiet and smile her way.

"The man was so weird the whole day. It's clear he was very worried about you."

"Who? Jungkook?" you ask, knowing exactly what he's talking about and when she nods, you get your confirmation.

"Yeah, his head just wasn't in the right place. Honestly, fuck whatever anyone thinks."

"Couldn't say it better," you breathe out, sighing a little as you empty the can of beer by drinking the rest of it. "What do you say? One more?"

Maya takes the hint, afterall it doesn't take a genius to figure out that you're not very open to talk about this topic. She understands that and she grins at you.

"Girl, count me in!"

One more has turned into many more that quickly turned you into being tipsy but for the first time, you kind of feel free even though the same hurtful feelings are still very fresh. And you came to a conclusion they're not going to leave just like that – not until you figure this whole thing out with Haneul.

You excuse yourself from Maya and Taehyung, the two loyal partners that almost made it their mission to drink just as much as you do. Even Jimin joined for a few shots (yes, you started drinking shots instead of beer). It's a decision you'll probably regret tomorrow morning but you'd do anything to have fun and not ponder on those thoughts too much. You're aware of them, but at least this way you get to laugh and actually have fun with your friends.

Your heels are starting to be a pain in your ass but your walk is somehow stable to the kitchen, where you take a whole bottle of vodka. This will do, you think before you hear someone make their way into the kitchen as well.

"Oh," Jungkook breathes out, surprised to see you as he sends you a faint smile while you just stare at him. "Are you having fun?"

It's clear it's his way of starting a conversation, not letting the obvious awkward tension take over. You nod, not really what to say. You notice he disposed himself of his jacket suit, chest on much bigger display now that he nears where you're standing.

Ever since you came downstairs, you haven't really spent time with him. You're not sure why, but you're glad about that considering whenever you see him, you're just reminded of what his girlfriend has done and it automatically makes you angry. So you've been kind of avoiding him, knowing his presence could evoke the build-up anger even more and you know yourself. You won't be holding back.

"Are you okay?" he asks softly, standing beside you as you grip the bottle tighter, clenching your jaw slightly. You're slowly getting sick of that question.

Maybe part of you knows (and the reason why you've been avoiding him) is the fact that he knows you too well, he makes you vulnerable and you're trying really hard not to fall apart in front of him. Not again after yesterday. You've cried enough.

"Don't I look okay to you?" You decide to say instead, raising a brow at him as he sighs.

"You know what I mean." he tells you, voice careful as if he knew you're just seconds from bursting.

Fully turning to your best friend, you stare deep into his eyes. "My boyfriend left because of your lovely girlfriend and her big mouth. Although, he didn't break up with me, he still hasn't contacted me ever since yesterday and oh, he embarrassed me in front of everyone, assuming I slept with my other two friends because I slept with you,"

He stares at you, eyes big and doe and not surprised at all. He knows all of that, he knows about everything you said. And he knows you're in fact – not okay.

"But other than that, I'm okay."

"I'm sorry, Y/N."

It's something about that pitiful look that sets you off, causing you to grit your teeth. "I don't need your pity."

"I don't pity you," Okay, maybe he does but he's mostly worried. "I just want you to know I'm here for you."

Maybe it's how everyone seems to pity you that makes you not even angry, but embarrassed. They pity you and you don't like that feeling. You've noticed Seokjin's and Jia's glances at you, both of them looking at you almost the same way like Jungkook is looking at you right now. Taehyung might not be staring at you pitifully, but you know he does pity you and him drinking with you and joking around is his way of distracting you.

Jimin acts as if nothing happened, but you know him and Taehyung exchange glances whenever they're around.

As you glance at Jungkook, you find him nibbling on his bottom lip slightly as he peers at you with a soft look. But you're momentarily distracted when an increased fit of laughter gets your attention and you glance back to the main room, seeing Seokjin and Jia laughing about something. But that's not what turns your mood back to sour. The sight of Kiko does.

Although, she just stands there with a small smile on her face, it feels like a slap to your face. Jungkook follows your line of vision, cringing slightly as he opens his mouth to say something but before he can, you're faster.

"Well, now excuse me before I lose it all over again and mess up her pretty make-up." you give him a wide and tight smile which is nowhere near genuine.

"Y/N..." Jungkook sighs but you're already walking away, the bottle of vodka tightly gripped in your hands.

He stands there, sighing again before he rubs his face frustratedly. This whole night feels like a big failure.

Jungkook follows you shortly after, looking neutral as he looks around the room and notices Taehyung excitedly proposing to play hide-and-seek. The idea of hiding in this huge cabin excites mostly everyone, however Jungkook feels weird about your behavior and definitely feels that something isn't right. He stands close to you, noticing that you sense his presence because you tense a little which makes him frown slightly.

Just when he's sure that you will call it a stupid game, protesting and probably wanting to get drunk, you take a shot and grin at Taehyung. "Yeah, let's do it!" you yell excitedly, Maya joining you along with Hoseok and Seokjin who warns everyone not to break anything.

Everyone knows just because he says it, doesn't help that much. Everyone is mostly drunk and tipsy, so the chance of breaking something is very high-likely.

"Y/N..." Jungkook murmurs beside you, hands itching to reach towards you to make him look at him but before he can think whether it's a good idea or not, you look at him. "Can we just talk? I know you're--"

"Talk, right now? We're gonna play, Kook." you tell him, smiling at him before you brush past him and already join everyone in the circle they create, deciding who's going to be a seeker.

For god knows how many times, he sighs and joins everyone without a word, ignoring the pitiful look Jimin sends him because he's been witness to their interaction from a far.

It's close to midnight, maybe an hour or so, when everyone spreads around the entire cabin in a rush, trying to hide from Namjoon and Kiko (yes, the two of them deciding they'll be seekers for this game). Your heels slow you down a little but thanks to your tipsiness, you don't even feel the rush from trying to hide quickly.

Not knowing where you're even going, you open one of the doors at the end of the hall, walking in and slowly closing it. Sighing, you look around not really seeing much because the room is of course dark. It looks huge and from the look of it, it looks like a master bedroom. This has to be Seokjin's and Jia's room, you think.

You're too tipsy to hide underneath the bed, so you look around the room. There is a huge bathroom but unfortunately, there's no good hiding spot. Sighing, you walk into a walk-in closet that makes your mouth open. There aren't that many clothes, considering Seokjin's family doesn't spend too much time here but there are a few clothes which probably belong to Seokjin and Jia too.

Turning off the lights, you walk back into the bedroom. There is a huge balcony, placed at the back of the cabin with a view to snowy mountains. Of course, you can't hide there because it's freezing. Maybe it'd be a good spot, knowing they probably think no one would be stupid enough to hide there in this cold. You may be drunk, but you're not that drunk to risk your own health by some game.

You hear a little rustling in the room, your heart dropping for a second before you realize there must be someone already hiding. The sound has come from a tall closet in the corner of the room, so you slowly walk there cautiously. You reach for the knobs, suddenly snatching it open as you let out a surprised yelp when you see someone there.

"Oh my god," you whisper-yell, eyes wide as the person snorts and you realize it's Jungkook. Out of all places, he has to choose this room too, you almost want to laugh at the irony.

There's no time for any exchange of words because as you open your mouth again, Namjoon yelling they finished counting resounds and although it's faint because they're far away, you still hear him. Knowing there's no time to try and find another hiding spot, you quickly shove yourself there causing you to push Jungkook as he curses.

His back collides with the back of the closet, a thumping sound resounding loudly as you close the door, awkwardly pressed on Jungkook while an edge of hanger is pressing into the side of your face. You grunt, pushing it away as Jungkook shifts on his spot.

"Yah, go find another place. We can't both fit here." he protests, scolding you while more hangers are pressed in his back uncomfortably.

"Excuse me? I didn't know your annoying ass went here out of all places," you frown, and although it can't be seen in the dark, you know it's perfectly heard and recognizable in your voice.

Jungkook huffs just as Namjoon yells again that they're starting just in case someone didn't hear them.

"This is the most obvious spot." you grumble under your breath, turning around to face the front as Jungkook grunts when you accidentally elbow him in his stomach.

"Why did you go here then?" Jungkook mutters behind you.

"I ran out of time, it's hard to rush in heels," you point out bitterly, "We're going to be found here soon anyway, sixty seconds to hide? What am I? A spiderman?" you complain, hearing Jungkook shift trying to find a comfortable position but it's almost impossible. You're totally squeezed here and the closet looks like it's already full of Seokjin's and Jia's clothes.

That's why their walk-in closet is almost empty.

"Y/N, the point of hide-and-seek is for you to hide and shut up once you do hide." Jungkook retorts back at you.

"Shut up Jeon, nobody asked you."

"Just like nobody asked you to complain and bring spiderman into this."

"Oh god, you're such a child." you comment, rolling your eyes when you hear him huff behind you.

"Am I? Or are you?"

That makes you clench your jaw. It's obvious he's not just talking about your bickering, his bitter tone saying it all.

"I'm gonna ignore that." you grumble back.

"Good." He doesn't waste a second in replying back.

You straighten yourself, accidentally elbowing him again causing him to grunt in pain. Although, you don't apologize even though the apology is at the top of your tongue but your stubborn self remains quiet. You shouldn't talk too much either way, especially when you start hearing people knowing they must've found someone by now.

So you're quiet for a moment, just standing there in an awkward silence. Your feet hurt from wearing your heels and especially from standing in them in an uncomfortable position. You barely move, but you feel it perfectly and if you weren't so focused on your bickering, maybe you'd realize it hasn't been just Jungkook's chest that has been pressed against you from the moment you entered this closet and turned around with your back facing him.

You awkwardly bite your lower lip before you release it.

"Your dick is pressed against my ass." you comment, grumbling at Jungkook.

But as always, he reacts quickly to your accusation."What am I supposed to do? It's not like I do it on purpose." His voice is a silent exclamation of annoyance.

"Then scoot back!" you exclaim while whispering.

"Where? You shoved yourself in here when I told you there's no space!" he exclaims back.

You ignore him, knowing he's right but you won't admit it and the only thing that is left for you to do, is to stay quiet.

But Jungkook's dick is obviously not going anywhere and you feel it pressed against your lower back, almost touching your ass which makes you frustrated. It's been a while since you were this close to him and of course, there wasn't any reason to be this close to him. You haven't touched his dick ever since he fucked you in his apartment while you were draped over his couch. Thinking about those times again makes you frustrated and you feel your heart quicking up the pace.

"Oh my god..." you grumble, sounding annoyed, to which Jungkook quickly understands the reason behind it.

"It's right there! It's not my fault!" He quickly defends himself.

You open your mouth, wanting to tell him to put away his big dick but you're quickly stopped when the door from this bedroom opens and you shut your mouth immediately.

"Let me check here,"

You roll your eyes at the sound of Kiko's voice, hearing Namjoon give her a reply, saying he'll check the next room. The rule of this hide-and-seek was not to light up any lights which makes it more fun to play. Maybe that's why Hoseok refused to be a seeker the last minute this rule had been spoken.

"You idiots will scare the crap out of me for sure, no thanks. I'm hiding." He said which made everyone cackle devilishly, knowing he was right about that. So Namjoon took his place instead.

You don't see anything but you do hear her walking around the room, probably looking under the bed before she checks the bathroom and the walk-in closet as well. She's close, you think when you hear her heels clicking against the wooden floor. It seems as if she was just a few meters away from you and you press your hand over your mouth, automatically scooting back. Obviously, there's no space and you're left pressing against Jungkook and unfortunately, his dick too as you feel it now against your ass, pressed tightly.

And then it happens. He actually grunts at the contact, tensing right away as he closes his eyes in a failure.

You swear your heart stopped beating for a few seconds, your eyes widening at the sound he made knowing you're the reason why he made it because your stupid self just pressed against him like that. It wasn't done on purpose but it surely feels awkward, making you embarrassed.

Your cheeks feel hot and your breath is caught in your throat. There's silence, no one makes any noise and you almost think Kiko left even though you've never heard her closing the door. And just as this thought crosses your mind, the door from the closet where you're hiding snatches open and you almost stumble forward in surprise but Jungkook holds you.

Hands on your hips grips you tightly and he helps you stabilize on your heels, so you wouldn't hurt yourself.

"You good?" he asks behind you which you just nod to. He must've recognized the gesture in the darkness.

"Yeah, thanks." You decide to answer, getting out of the closet carefully.

Kiko must've noticed there's someone else there with you and as soon as she heard Jungkook's voice, at least she thought she did, her assumption turns out to be right when she clearly notices Jungkook stumbling out of your hiding spot too.

"Kookie?" she asks, your eyes automatically rolling and for the first time, you're not glad about the darkness because you'd gladly let her see you.

"Hi," he lets out almost nervously, scratching the back of his head. "You found us."

For some reason, you don't find this as funny as you'd expect to and you almost feel bad for Jungkook who looks nervous. Maybe he's scared Kiko will think of this differently and you notice how tense she seems to be, but that could easily be done by your presence.

She hasn't talked to you ever since yesterday happened, she's been avoiding you and you get the feeling Jungkook must've advised her to do so. Something tells you, her apologetic ass would crawl back to you and apologize for telling Haneul.

Oh, fuck... you're just getting angry all over again.

"You were hiding there?" she asks slowly and softly, almost insecure as she points towards the closet.

You see Jungkook clearing his throat, opening his mouth but you just step closer to Jungkook so she could see you. She turns her head towards you and you give her a tight smile which you're not sure if she catches. At least there's a slight moonlight coming through the windows, so she probably can tell your features have changed.

"Don't worry, it's not like he'd cheat on you." you tell her, patting Jungkook's chest as he tenses.

"Y/N," he warns you, you know you're pushing his buttons but the look on her face tells you it was worth it.

"Oh sorry, that must've slipped my mouth," you shrug innocently, grinning at him before you start walking out of the door. "It's no secret anyways."

And you're out of room, finally releasing a breath of relief as you make it downstairs where others found are already there.

You're quickly accompanied by Jimin, Maya and Taehyung as they share their hiding spots. Their laughter is the only thing that makes you slightly distracted to the point you don't notice Jungkook and Kiko coming downstairs shortly after, hands intertwined together.

The midnight comes quickly after that, or maybe it's just you because once you started doing shots with Taehyung and Maya again, time has seemed to quicken up. Soon after, you found yourself outside, everyone wearing jackets to slightly ease up the cold while doing the countdown. Your legs shiver even though they're wrapped in a blanket that you're holding closer to yourself.

Seokjin told you about the fireworks, so that's the main reason everyone is doing countdown outside. And just like he promised, it's beautiful and colorful and even though everyone cheers and you're squeezed into a hug with Jimin and Taehyung, you just can't find yourself to be happy.

The main reason is that you imagined this trip differently. And it's the saddening feeling that Haneul should've been here with you and he's not, so you're naturally just reminded of everything that happened and everything he said to you again.

However, you find yourself smiling and hugging your friends. You get a glimpse of Jungkook and Kiko kissing, causing your smile to drop as you quickly look away and ignore the feeling of jealousy. If it weren't for her and things wouldn't turn out the way they did, you could've had your own kiss with your boyfriend.

You're jealous, angry and hurt because Jungkook gets to kiss her as if nothing happened, meanwhile you're standing here hurt and without your boyfriend's presence. They're both selfish, although you don't expect them to act differently or not have a New Year's kiss just because of you. You know it's stupid to think of it that way but you can't help it. You're petty and all the emotions are still fresh. One day won't solve anything.

Shortly after, Jungkook comes to join your circle and hugs everyone, wishing them the same old "Happy New Year". He does the same to you, his eyes softening as soon as he looks you in the eyes noticing you look kind of sad. He doesn't mention it though, knowing that's not what you wanted. The hug he gives you is longer and probably stronger than the one he shared with the others, Jimin and Taehyung included.

You hold your blanket, so you don't exactly hug him back or put your hands around him, but you lay your face and you seek a comfort that you know only Jungkook can give you. He has a special talent for that and for a few seconds you find yourself relaxing slightly and enjoying him being so close to you.

You haven't been acting towards him well and it makes you feel like crap. But you've to put yourself and your well-being first. You know your remark that had been aimed at Kiko when she found you and Jungkook hurt him, you know it and yet you're nowhere near done.

Maybe you're selfish too. Or maybe this is just a very fucked up situation but unfortunately, you're not going to pretend to act a certain way for someone else's sake.

When you pull away, you give him an awkward smile which he undoubtedly notices but doesn't call you out for it, offering you a soft smile. You're both snatched by Taehyung and Jimin who ushers everyone inside and you can't complain, shaking once you make it inside and you're welcomed by the warmth of the cabin.

The night doesn't end there, the exact opposite actually. The music turns even louder and Seokjin turns on disco lights they brought over, making it look like a club instead of a simple living room.

You're having fun, drinking too much but luckily there's no one stopping you. Somehow, you find yourself sitting on one of the couches, legs crossed and finally warmed up, when you notice there's also Kiko.

She's talking to Jungkook about something and you catch her giggle at something he says. The way he smiles back at her pains you even more, feeling betrayed and before you know it, you're already gulping the next shot Taehyung prepared for you.

Distracting yourself, you listen to Namjoon who suggests going camping in June or July which everyone agrees immediately. Seokjin doesn't forget to mention that he wants to go too, but he's not sure if he'll be able to go before the baby arrives. If a camping trip takes place in June, Jia will already be nine months pregnant so technically he could come but isn't sure if he wants to risk it.

With that topic, Taehyung gushes about how much fun he had the last time and you automatically agree when he asks you if you had fun.

"Of course, I had fun," you ponder, noticing Kiko looking at you and surprisingly, she doesn't look away like you expect her to. "That camping trip was amazing, right Jungkook?" you ask loudly, catching Jungkook's eyes as he looks at you and frowns in confusion for a moment.

Where are you going with this?

"Exciting even," you muse, smirking when you see Jungkook clearing his throat and shifting on his spot. "Wouldn't you say?"

He already knows what you're talking about, it's not hard to know.

"Yeah," he lets out through clenched teeth, voice sounding strained.

Everyone else must've picked up on it and you notice Taehyung glancing between you and him, knowing there's a missing piece to your conversation meanwhile Jimin looks worried about whatever you're about to say.

Namjoon and Maya look clueless, confused even while Hoseok just drinks from his champagne and Seokjin cuddles to his wife, too occupied to even properly think about your conversation.

"Am I missing something?" Taehyung asks, earning a warning glare from Jimin but the poor guy just shrugs innocently and almost looks amused when you purse your lips and smirk at him.

"Why? Do you get the feeling as if you were?" you ask innocently, even a completely drunk person would be able to tell the mischief in your tone.

"Hmm, you know I do," Taehyung muses, smirking at you as you giggle. "I get the feeling there's something more to this exciting part. So tell us, what was so exciting about this trip?"

Jimin sighs beside you, rubbing his forehead while he holds a glass of whiskey on his knee. It's more than clear that Taehyung is all here for juicy stuff and it's like the two of you are speaking without words, eyes amusingly dancing between each other.

"Why don't you tell us, Jungkook? What else was exciting... or excited?" you ask, biting your lower lip to prevent yourself from grinning but you do as Taehyung gasps, his drunk head already getting the clue of what you're hinting at as his jaw falls on the floor.

Jungkook stands up abruptly, tossing his glass on the table with a loud clunk as you just raise your brow at him as he makes his way over to you.

"I'm just saying, the tents were very comfortable--"

"Can I talk to you?" Jungkook asks through clenched teeth, eyes momentarily glaring at Taehyung who cackles while Jimin sighs again.

Maya snorts somewhere in the background while Namjoon silently scolds her. You're not sure what others do, but some of them probably ignore this interaction because you hear Seokjin talking about something to someone.

"I was actually in the middle of talking. I thought we're all sharing our memories from the trip."

"Stop it," he snaps silently, glaring at you. "Come on."

"I'm not done--what the fuck!" you exclaim as you're hoisted up, Jungkook's hand wrapped around your forearm as he drags you out of the living room.

He's going too fast and you curse at him, trying to pry his hands off you but he holds you tightly. You're too busy looking at your feet, trying not to stumble in those goddamn heels, so you don't look at the reactions of others.

Jungkook drags you upstairs, letting you go when you make it to the middle.

"What the fuck was that?" he asks you straight away, hands going into his hair for a moment.

You cross your arms over your chest. "What? I was just sharing with others."

"Sharing what exactly? That I fucked you in a tent on that camping trip?" he snaps back.

"Actually yeah," you straighten yourself, glaring at him. "I wasn't done though. I forgot to tell them how you almost fucked me in a forest on that trip too."

Jungkook grunts, looking away as he tries to calm himself down by breathing sharply and slowly. "Why are you doing this?"

You just stare at him blankly, although you do poke your tongue into your cheek.

"I know you're hurt and angry, but I don't get why you are pulling a stunt like this."

He probably does have a clue but decides to talk about it, wanting to make you feel guilty. At least you think so, because the way he looks at you is a mix of anger and disappointment. Unfortunately, you don't care.

"A stunt? It's true, Jungkook. Suddenly I can't be open about what we've done? Stop making a big deal out of this... I mean, everyone already knows!" you yell while laughing bitterly, throwing your arms in the air.

"Stop," he murmurs. "This isn't you. You're just hurt."

"Oh, fuck off," you scoff, "This isn't me? How would you know? You think you know me all perfectly and can talk me out of everything. You know what? No, fuck you too. Go back to your so perfect girlfriend because why wouldn't you? She just ruined your best friend's relationship but who cares, right? At least you got her back."

"I don't know what you want from me, Y/N. You want me to break-up with her because she made a mistake? You know how selfish that sounds? And reminding her of our deal--I know you're doing this to hurt her."

"No shit, Sherlock," you scoff, "She hurt me and nobody cares!"

"I care!" he yells suddenly, releasing a breath as he frustratedly pinches the bridge of his nose. "This is not healthy, Y/N. You're hurt and--"

"Fuck off, seriously," you tell him, wanting to brush past him but he catches your wrists. "Let me go, Jeon. I didn't finish talking about how you fucked me while she was just a few meters away from us."

And then Jungkook growls, he freaking growls, before he backs you to the wall and presses you into it.

"What the fuck," you curse at him, pushing him in his chest but he doesn't budge and presses his hands against the wall beside your head, caging you in. "Did I get you mad?" you coo, touching his chest lightly.

"Stop," he warns you, "Stop acting like this."

You scoff, "I can act however I want," you look away for a second. "And who the fuck are you to tell me what's healthy and what's not? You're the one who faked a relationship just to get back a cheater."

"And you're hurting over some asshole that slut-shamed you in front of everyone."

You open your mouth, genuinely taken aback by the sudden outburst coming from him as you grow mad and hurt at the same time.

Jungkook's eyes widen for a moment, as if he just realized what he said but he keeps his mouth shut and you don't give the satisfaction of reacting to that. So you purposely ignore it.

"I should get back," you tell him through clenched teeth, "Maybe Kiko would be interested knowing you also fucked me in your--"

"Fucking stop!"

You jump when Jungkook slaps the wall harshly beside your head, breath turning heavy as he glares at you. He's so close, his own harsh breaths warming your face as you breathe heavily too, your heart racing from his sudden reaction.

You can't blame him though, you purposely provoked him knowing you're pushing his buttons way too much.

Jungkook sighs, head hanging low before he slowly looks up, meeting your suddenly soft eyes. He leans his forehead against yours, noses brushing against each other as you both breathe heavily, breaths mingling together.

"What are you doing to me," he whispers, closing his time for a moment.

You almost want to cry, growing more vulnerable each second by his close proximity and all you can do is stare at him, eyes dropping down to his half-opened mouth. He stares at you, his own eyes dropping to your lips once he slightly detaches his forehead from yours. You both share a look, something you can't explain because you just stare at each other, acknowledging the close proximity.

"What the hell are you guys doing?"

You and Jungkook snap your head towards the end of the hall, finding a frowning Jimin who harshly whispers at the two of you.

"Seokjin is about to cut the cake." he explains, eyeing you and Jungkook. You completely forgot about that NYE cake Seokjin ordered.

You clear your throat as Jungkook suddenly takes a large step back, taking a long breath as you quickly rush past him. You ignore the look Jimin gives you, quickly going downstairs.

And Jungkook does the same, looking at Jimin as if the older one isn't giving him a strange look and glare mixed together, brushing past him.

Jimin just sighs, following you downstairs. He needs another shot. Pronto. 

The party is in a full swing, still going wild and maybe even wilder since everyone seems to be drunk and having fun. Well, maybe except Jungkook who has distanced himself from the crowd of his friends, needing that little space after your conversation.

Oh fuck, you got him so mad. He still replays your interaction no matter how many times he's trying to tell himself to let it go. You were tipsy, were the key word because now you look completely drunk.

But at least there's a smile on your face while you're dancing with Taehyung who seems to be just as drunk. Is that smile of yours fake? Are you really just having fun or is it your way of pretending to have fun? He can't tell because you're drunk.

Your words that you so bluntly told him have affected him more than he'd admitted. He knows they still affect him, even though he knows it was just a pure act of your anger and pain at the same time. You're probably more hurt than angry, but you wouldn't admit it but he knows you.

It feels twisted – you trying to hurt Kiko just because she hurt you by opening her mouth about something she obviously shouldn't have the right to do. He gets that, he still gets annoyed and just genuinely exhausted when he thinks about it. It hurts him because this is what he was so scared of.

He's already standing between you two and he just can't do nothing, letting you hurt each other. Intentionally or unintentionally. He can't blame you for your reaction, he knew from the moment you appeared downstairs that you've a certain facade going on. But you trying to hurt Kiko, even though he understands that you're mad at her, by bringing up your deal just makes him feel betrayed.

It's clear it would do no good and just hurt more feelings, not saying you'd probably feel embarrassed the next day after you'd realize you so openly talked about you and him in front of everyone. He's not stupid, everyone probably knows you hooked up. But still, bringing everyone into it would never end well and would just end up in a huge disaster of embarrassment.

So fucking exhausted, Jungkook thinks and sighs as he tooks another swing of his tequila. He has long forgo a beer, knowing he needs something stronger to ease his nerves and the exhaustion of this trip.

"So, what was that upstairs?"

He doesn't flinch but is surprised to see Jimin, stopping beside him and giving him a glance that he can't quite identify what it means. But something tells him Jimin thinks about it more than it is in reality.

"What exactly?" Jungkook mutters, forcing himself to look away from his friend and his almost judging eyes. Now that he thinks about it, he does feel a little uncomfortable by that. Especially because he knows Jimin seeing you two like that raises a weird suspicion. Shortly said, he realizes how bad it must've looked.

Jungkook listens to Jimin as he sighs, but still keeps his eyes elsewhere. He's tense, he can feel his back muscles flexing but decides to stay silent by brushing his tongue against his back teeth.

"If someone else saw you like that, you know what they'd think." Jimin decides to say, frowning a little.

That causes Jungkook to finally glance at him, mirroring his own frowned expression as he notices Jimin's face slightly red but despite that, he doesn't look drunk but it's easily recognizable that he must've had a few shots.

"It seems like you're thinking the same thing." Jungkook scoffs a little, taking another gulp of his tequila.

It burns the back of his throat but it's nothing he can't handle. He almost craves it now.

"I'm not... well, sorry but to see you guys standing so close to each other like--" Jimin stops, sighing again. "Look, I'm just saying it looked weird. There would be rumors going around if someone else saw you."

"I wouldn't cheat on my girlfriend if that's what you're insinuating," Jungkook points out with a hard tone. Jimin widens his eyes, realizing how that must've sounded and he's about to apologize when Jungkook doesn't let him by easily continuing after a moment. "And as much as Y/N hates Kiko right now and maybe is plotting some kind of sick revenge, she wouldn't use me to hurt her like that."

"Of course not," Jimin agrees silently, "I don't think you guys would go behind her back and do something like that. You're friends, right?" he asks unsurely and Jungkook catches on to it but decides not to comment on it.

Instead, he just nods.

"You just came at the wrong time, it wasn't like that Jimin-ah," Jungkook sighs, rubbing his eyes with his free hand before he sighs. "She was purposely trying to piss me off. She was about to tell Kiko about--" He stops, almost cringing when he realizes he was about to confess what you were doing on that camping trip.

"Well... about us, like a more detailed version and I could've seen how much pain she's hiding behind that anger. She said some hurtful stuff to be honest... I don't find it very pleasing and comfortable to hear. She knows me so well, so she knows exactly where to dig to hurt me, even though I think she wasn't trying to purposely hurt me."

"Yeah, I understand that. Arguing with people close to you is the hardest because they know you the best."

Jungkook silently agrees by nodding.

"I just got frustrated, she was trying to go downstairs and I stopped her before she could say something that she might regret tomorrow. I know she's mad but I also know she's not the type to hurt people in that way,"

It's clear your emotions have been controlling you ever since yesterday.

"I mean... sometimes she does say hurtful things but it's not because she wants to hurt someone but because she's honest. This was different, tonight was different. She wasn't about to say those things because she wanted to be honest, but because she wanted to hurt Kiko."

"I understand why she wanted to do that. Not because it's right but because she's been hurt a lot since Haneul left and overall, yesterday was very overwhelming even for me, so I can't possibly imagine how overwhelmed she felt among other things," Jimin says softly, causing the younger to perk his eyes in interest but mostly he nods because he agrees with him.

"But I also think she should've considered your feelings more. Especially in what position she's putting you in. This is mainly between her and Kiko, but also she's your girlfriend and that makes it even more complicated. To say it this way... every side has its own truth and reason why it's acting like this."

Jimin watches his younger friend nibbling on his bottom lip almost self-consciously, eyes focused on the floor as he doesn't even blink while processing his words. Jungkook is in a very bad position right now and just like Jimin said, it makes it even more complicated.

Jimin always knows what to say and even when Jungkook doesn't say it, he appreciates him saying all these things and even for coming up to talk to him. Maybe the main purpose of this conversation was about what happened upstairs, which Jungkook explained. The truth is, it was a little bit of both. Jimin wanted to know what's going on but mainly, he saw Jungkook standing alone and he quickly realized there's something wrong with his younger friend.

Jungkook is that kind of friend and person that doesn't usually talk about his own struggles. If he does, you're the person he comes up to and opens to. But considering you're the reason, or more like the situation that involves you is, makes you unavailable. Plus, it seems like you've other important things to deal with than Jungkook's hurt feelings and frustrating thoughts that are caused by this particular situation.

"Thank you hyung..." Jungkook mutters, glancing at Jimin before quickly averting his eyes elsewhere. Still, he catches the little grin that spreads on Jimin's lips.

"Aw, did you just call me hyung?" Jimin coos, gripping Jungkook's shoulders as he shakes with him a little causing the younger one to roll his eyes but there's a little smile playing on his lips. "Don't go soft on me now," Jimin teases, laughing at Jungkook's expression of annoyance and amusement at the same time.

With one swift movement, Jungkook pokes him in his stomach which causes Jimin yelp as he laughs and lets him go, knowing Jungkook is stronger and would easily put him back in place.

"Don't worry about it too much, Jungkook-ah," Jimin says softly, catching his eyes. "She just has to get drunk and get over it on her own. We all tried to help as much as we could, we still do but look," Jimin points towards you, Jungkook's eyes widening when he sees you on a freaking table dancing with Taehyung. That looks very dangerous.

Jungkook is really to stroll over and Jimin probably expects it, quickly catching his wrist to stop him.

"Let her have fun. She needs this. I think Taehyung does a great job at distracting her."

Jungkook tenses but stays glued to his spot, his eyes eyeing you and Taehyung to make sure Jimin is right. You're laughing at Taehyung, both singing or more like yelling the song's lyrics.

"She's wearing freaking heels and is dancing on a table," Jungkook points out, voice slightly raising as if Jimin couldn't see it.

He doesn't get it. Jimin is usually the one that would get worried first and then plead you to come down from there.

"What if she falls? Or Taehyung? They're both drunk." he mutters, eyeing his friends worriedly as Jimin slightly smiles at Jungkook's little pout.

"Taehyung is holding her. They're just standing there, they're not even dancing that much."

Jungkook stares skeptically at you and Taehyung. Jimin is right, Taehyung has a tight grip on you but that doesn't mean you both can't fall. And Jungkook speaks out his thoughts causing Jimin to snort as he shakes his head.

"Just let them be. Don't ruin their fun."

Lastly, Jungkook wants to argue and point out that if they'll have to call an ambulance there is no going back and somebody can get hurt. He doesn't understand why everyone around you doesn't do something, they just seem to cheer you on.

But he decides not to get involved for now, your smile and laugh is very rare these days so he drops it. However, he still allows himself to huff loudly as he takes another gulp from his tequila because – what else he can do now, right? 

A half an hour later, you and Taehyung have become more reckless with each passing minute and song. You even take shots on the table, not getting off it while doing so and Jungkook sees you stumbling a little, his heart dropping at the sight.

He might've decided he's not going to get involved, but he surely is about to.

You're dancing, your dress is hiking up as everyone probably gets a perfect view of your lacy white panties because even from the distance where Jungkook is standing, he notices the white fabric almost immediately. Jimin must've noticed it too because he looks at Jungkook with widened eyes.

"Alright, that's it. I'm stopping this right now." Jungkook says, putting down his glass with a loud thud as he strolls back to the living room, aiming towards you and Taehyung.

He fails to hear Jimin sigh as he follows him. He has to admit, Jungkook is right. It's starting to get out of hand and you still wearing those heels look even more dangerous. You're more the careful type even when drunk, but right now you're so reckless and you definitely don't need to break your leg or something.

You're in the middle of singing with Taehyung when you hear your voice being called, causing you to look down. Immediately, you're met with Jungkook's disapproval frown and if you weren't so drunk, maybe you'd notice how serious he looks. Jimin stands behind him, eyeing the scene worriedly.

"Come down, you're gonna hurt yourself." Jungkook tells you, almost pleading with you before he sends a glare Taehyung's way when he notices him twerking all of a sudden.

"Yeah, it's dangerous. You're wearing heels." Jimin tries behind Jungkook, but you barely pay them any attention as you start giggling at Taehyung's twerking as you slap his ass.

Taehyung starts giggling, wiggling his eyebrows at you as Jungkook groans and looks desperately at Jimin. He just shrugs but decides to make his way to Taehyung, scolding him too.

"Y/N, come on, come down from there." Jungkook tries again but all he's met with is...

"You want me, I want you baby,My sugarboo, I'm levitating,"

Jungkook groans loudly, glaring at the way you lean towards him while still standing on that freaking table and singing at him unbothered. At least that table looks stable and massive.

"Stop it."

"You stop it!" you exclaim childishly. "Come up here!"

"Y/N, I don't think--"

"I got you, moonlight, you're my starlight,I need you all night, come on dance with me,I'm levitating,"

It's the way you kind of jump while dancing and singing that makes Jungkook's eyes grow big, your legs slightly unstable as you stumble a little and yelp surprisingly, but you start giggling as if you didn't just almost fall.

In the background, Jimin is trying to tug down drunk Taehyung and yells at Namjoon for help. All of that interaction goes almost unnoticed by Jungkook because he can feel the way his stomach clenched when you almost fell.

"That's it," He snaps, catching your arms as you start to wiggle from his hold but he holds you even tighter, too scared to let go in case you'd fall. "You're coming down, right now."

"Let me go, Jeon," you yell drunkenly, alcohol making you protest way less than you'd if you were sober. But you wouldn't be dancing on a table while sober, so there's that.

Jungkook doesn't beat around the bush, tugging you closer to him before he wraps his arms around your frame. He hoists you up as if you gained nothing, throwing you over his shoulder and quickly pulling your dress down to cover your thighs and to save some of your dignity, before he starts walking out of the room. On the way out there he catches Kiko's eyes but doesn't stop because you start thrashing around.

"What the hell," He hears you complain, "Let me go!" you yell at him, trying to move your legs but Jungkook holds you tightly just below your butt, keeping a tight grip on your thighs while the other arm holds your calves.

He starts walking up the stairs and you grow even more frustrated at the lack of attention he's giving you. You can't believe he just picked you up like a freaking bag of potatoes. Your stomach clenches uncomfortably from being head down, all the alcohol swimming in your stomach.

Met with his butt (not your fault that it's currently in the line of your vision and thanks to the position you're in), you start smacking repeatedly his lower back and butt, yelling for him to let you go. Or at least you think you're yelling but in reality, you're drunkenly blabbering and screeching with an awkward high-pitched voice.

Jungkook clenches his jaw when he feels you smacking his backside, your hands showing no mercy.

"I swear to god, you fucking let me down right now!" you yell, still smacking him. "I'm serious, Jeon. How dare you to just pick me up like I'm--"

You're immediately shut down when Jungkook's palm meets your ass, your jaw dropping as you halt all your movements. Did he just spank you? Well, it worked because you're too shocked to react in any way as the sting from his hand slowly fades away. You look almost like a doll, tossed limpily over his wide shoulder as if you weigh nothing.

And then it hits you.

"Did you just spank me?" You voice your thoughts, scolding him with a stern yet shocked voice.

You realize you've made it upstairs, Jungkook's steps confident and stable as he makes it into your room, shutting down the door with his leg as he gently kicks into it causing it to shut with a loud thud.

All you see is the back of his legs and soon after you're being tossed onto your bed. Your body bounces for a few seconds until it stops and you just lay there with a prominent scowl.

"You act like brat, you get treated like one." he says simply, frowning at you as he stands at the end of your bed, glancing down at you as you glare at him.

"Excuse me?" you exclaim, trying to sit up.

He raises a brow when he sees you slightly struggling and does nothing to help you. Instead, he crosses his arms over his chest as his button-up strains around his biceps.

Sitting up, you huff as you open your mouth, but instead of something getting out of it you just stare at Jungkook. He raises his brow again at you, knowing you're about to throw another set of insults and threats.

"I forgot what I was about to say." you murmur, snort leaving your lips as you start giggling at yourself.

Jungkook's corner of mouth twitches as he breathes out a chuckle. "You'll thank me tomorrow, trust me. You're already too drunk, you'd feel sick if you kept drinking more."

You both know you weren't about to stop, which is very irresponsible of you. You've always been the responsible one when it comes to partying and drinking. You knew your limit and even know, being drunk and getting tired, you can tell you've crossed that limit a long time ago. Your stomach feels weird, yet you don't feel like throwing up. But you know trying to eat something would just make you throw up for sure. Just the idea of food makes you want to gag.

"I was having fun," you pout, suddenly letting your body relax as your back hits the soft mattress. Arms above your head, you stare at the plain ceiling that you've grown so familiar with.

"I know," Jungkook gently says, crouching down as he starts taking off your heels. You let him, feeling his fingers brush against your skin every now and then while taking them off. Your ankles are free from the pressure and you sigh in relief as Jungkook stands up, causing you to glance at him with hooded eyes. "You're gonna be fine? I think you should sleep it off."

You just stare at him, his words not really dawning on you, at least not until he just gives you a nod (or more like to himself) as he turns around and you realize he's leaving.

"Kook, wait," you call out, rubbing your eyes and smudging your eye make-up without you realizing. But you do think about your make-up. "I need to take my make-up off."

Jungkook snorts but stays in his spot, not leaving. "You can just take it off tomorrow."

You let out a dramatic gasp. "You know I can't do that," you scold him, "My skin will look like hell tomorrow."

"I'm sure you'll feel like it too," he hums, but it goes unheard by you as you just sigh before trying to sit up all over again. Jungkook sees you struggling, sighing in frustration. "For fucks sake."

But two long strides towards you and he's back in front of you, reaching towards you to help you stand up. You stumble but he quickly catches you.

"Whoops," you grin stupidly before trying to brush past him.

You do eventually, not forgetting to bump into him in the process as you make it out of your room. Jungkook groans, rubbing his forehead frustratedly before he quickly goes to catch up with you. He almost sighs in relief when you're walking the opposite way of the party downstairs and actually walking towards the bathroom.

Jungkook follows you, urging you to sit up on the toilet but not before he quickly closes the lid. You listen to him, sitting there and watching him through hooded eyes as he's searching for make-up removal wipes. He finds them, not really sure who it belongs to but he doesn't care, opening it up.

He walks towards you, gently telling you to close your eyes as you do and he starts wiping off your make-up. He's gentle, too scared to hurt you and it probably takes him way more than it'd if you did it yourself, but unfortunately you're in no state to do that. You should probably take a shower to sober up but he's too scared to leave you alone in there, in case you slip up.

Surprisingly, you just sit there soundlessly, occasionally humming as he makes sure your face is make-up free. You should probably use some cleanser to make sure it's extra clean, but you seem too drunk and the last thing Jungkook wants is to bother you with not so important tasks. But he still leads you to a bathroom sink and washes your face with a slightly cold water which you start whining about, but he just shushes you and continues rubbing your face with his big palm.

Once he's done, he dries off your face with a soft small towel. You open your eyes, drunkenly staring at Jungkook before you start giggling out of nowhere. He doesn't question you, but he does find you amusing as he chuckles and tosses the towel away.

"Come on, let's sleep it off." He tries to take your hands but you pry them off.

"I need to take a shower." you point out, trying to reach for the hem of your dress to slip it off while Jungkook's eyes widen in panic. Out of all situations, now you decide to be responsible? He knows you wouldn't go to bed without washing yourself but he kind of hoped you're too drunk to even think about something like a shower.

"No, no, no," He tries to stop you, grabbing your hands. "You'll take a shower tomorrow."

You frown at that. "Huh? You expect me to go to bed without a shower?" you exclaim drunkenly, trying to reach for the hem again but Jungkook stops you once again.

"Listen, you're too drunk. You could easily slip up there, I'm not risking that."

Why is he even trying to reason with you? You're stubborn as hell, plus you're drunk which is not a good combination.

"You could just take one with me," you propose, bursting into a fit of giggles when you see Jungkook's not impressed look, his doe eyes widening. "Oh my god, I'm kidding. Loosen up!" you laugh, hiccuping a little before you push his firm chest.

"I took care of you when you were drunk," you tell him sassily, eyes hooded and hiccups making their way past your lips every few seconds. "I watched over you when you were taking a shower."

Yeah, the memory feels still fresh. Jungkook insisted you be there in case he'll slip up. It's funny how this situation is familiar but roles reversed.

"We were single back then," And fucking, "I've a girlfriend and you've a boyfriend."

"Do I?" you scoff bitterly, your grin falling just like that and it makes Jungkook curse at himself for mentioning it.

He wants to argue, tell you that he didn't break-up with you and there's nothing final yet. He doesn't want you to worry and be sad, but you're drunk and emotional. However, you just sigh and grab your toothbrush.

Jungkook stands there, watching you how you messily brush your teeth but he does help you with a toothpaste once he sees you almost using all of it and most of it falling into the sink. Once you're done, he uses that time to take you by your wrist and quickly lead you out of there.

On the way to your room, you start complaining about being dirty. God, you're so dramatic, Jungkook thinks as he listens to your drunken whines as he keeps tugging you to your room while you stumble every few seconds behind him.

"You're not dirty, Y/N." Jungkook grumbles, opening the door from your room.

"I am! I didn't take a shower!" you whine dramatically, pouting once you're in your room as Jungkook closes the door and turns to you.

He helps you take off your choker and earrings, putting them on your nightstand carefully.

"Y/N!" he screeches once he sees you slipping off your dress, revealing your exposed thighs and the hem of your lacy panties. "You can't just--"

He turns around, growing frustrated by you.

"Oh, come on, it's not like you haven't seen it all." He hears you snickering, rustling can be heard in the meantime.

"Now it's different," he complains, murmuring as he keeps his eyes on the wall. "Just tell me when you're done."

You don't reply, but he hears occasional grunts of annoyance and more rustling. His hands itching to help you but he knows it's for the best if he just stays standing here with his back turned to you. It's more about respect he has for you than anything else.

"Done." he hears you mumble.

He waits a few seconds before he cautiously turns around, not really sure if you're dressed up. For all he knows, you could be standing there star naked. Luckily, he's met with a sight of you in your pyjamas with your dress laying next to your feet.

You reach for it, wanting to fold it properly because you know you'd curse at yourself tomorrow morning if you wouldn't.

"I got it," he tells you, already reaching for the dress while trying to fold them neatly. "Go to bed." he tells you softly and surprisingly, you comply and you crawl on the bed until you make it to your pillows.

Jungkook snorts at the sight, "Such a baby." he mutters, placing your dress on top of a dresser.

He's about to turn off the lights, glancing at you to check on you, just to see you already laying underneath the duvet with head on the soft pillows. Your eyes are open though and you blink at the staring in thought.

You look cute but for some reason Jungkook feels sad. It's something about you just laying there with the cutest pout and unrecognizable look in your eyes.

But he turns off the lights, immediately hearing your protests.

"Kook," you whine, "I can't sleep."

That makes Jungkook chuckle as he makes his way towards the bed, sitting on the edge of it just beside you. The mattress dips underneath his weight and the scent of him invades your senses.

"You're already falling asleep." he chuckles silently, moonlight peeking from your unclosed blinds as he sees your features.

He brushes a few hair off your face, pushing the urge to poke your nose just to annoy you but he knows it's not the right time.

"No," you whine with closed eyes. "My stomach is so full. I don't feel good." you complain silently.

"Do you want me to get you a bucket just in case? Think you're gonna throw up?"

Even in your state you recognize the worry in his voice and how alarmed he seems to be. That makes you smile but even the littlest movement of your lips make you feel as if you're running a marathon. Jungkook is right, you're already falling asleep but there's something keeping you away from it, and that's the amount of alcohol in your stomach.

"No," you answer. "Can you rub my back?"

Jungkook chuckles, nose scrunched cutely at your request.

The muted sounds of bass and music can be heard, but to be honest, Jungkook doesn't really feel like joining there even though he knows he'll have to go downstairs at some point.

Okay, he'll stay until you fall asleep so he can be sure you're alright.

"Alright, turn over." he tells you and you happily giggle, turning your back towards him.

He snorts and starts rubbing your back gently.

"Mmm, that feels good." He hears you muffle into your pillow, muscles relaxing almost instantly.

"Kook," you whisper just when he thinks you already fell asleep. He hums in return, waiting for you to continue which takes a moment. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

He knows, he freaking knows but for some reason he asks and wants to hear you say it.

"I acted like a bitch," you tell him, suddenly plopping on your back as you look at him with half-closed eyes. "I was angry."

"I know," Jungkook murmurs, features softening as he places his hands on his lap while staring at you.

"I'm sad," you inform him with a whisper and he swears he feels like his heart has just cracked.

"I know that too," he offers softly, surprised when you messily try to reach for one of his hands.

Once you do, you squeeze his hand as you bring it to your stomach where you hold it with your both hands.

"And I'm hurt." This time Jungkook squeezes your hand.

"I know," he whispers, "But I'm here."

"I know," you smile, "I love you, Kook," you murmur sleepily.

"Say it back." you demand childishly which makes him snort.

"I love you too, you little brat." he says, amusement and a grin still heard in his voice.

You hum in content, suddenly turning the way you were before – with your back turned back to him. "Rub my back, please."

He laughs silently, front teeth peeking through his lips as he complies and continues to rub your back gently.

He's sure it's not even a minute after when you still stay in the same position not moving. He stops rubbing your back, waiting for you to scold him and tell him to continue but all he's met with is your soft breaths leaving your mouth. Once he leans towards you to check on you, he sees your eyes closed already dreaming.

He chuckles, brushing some of those restless waves off your face before he stands up – ready to go back downstairs to call it a night. But not before he makes sure there's a bucket beside your bed which he brings from the bathroom just in case. And he doesn't leave before checking on you one last time, assuring everyone you're okay, already taken care of and sleeping when he makes it downstairs and Jimin almost jumps on him to ask about you.

And Taehyung would do the same, if he wasn't passed out on the couch. But the night doesn't end for Jungkook there, especially when Jimin asks him to help him to get Taehyung to their room.But he does it with no complaints because... what wouldn't he do for his friends?

[supernovafics]

series masterlist | last part — next part

pairing: modern!college!steve harrington x fem!reader, bestfriend!eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: 2.9k words

warnings: explicit language, nothing else really?

summary: your life goes back to normal— how things were before you knew steve— and it’s fine (or at least that’s what you keep telling yourself)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN | ❝𝒇𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆❞

Spring Semester 2017

“This is how villain origin stories are born,” Robin said with a loud sigh as she closed her laptop for the time being. “Apartment hunting. Why does this suck so much?”

“Because everything’s severely out of our price range,” You responded, looking up from your own laptop. “Also, there are barely any three-bedroom options.”

“And the ones that are available and in our budget are very shitty,” Vickie added and you nodded in agreement.

The three of you were sitting on the carpeted floor in your dorm room. Living together for the next school year had been jokingly and playfully talked about in the very early stages of your friendship with Robin, but then as the months passed, it settled into an idea that actually became serious; mainly because of how much sense it made. And then Robin introduced you to Vickie and another friendship, and roommate, was born. 

Eddie was also set as a fourth roommate for a bit, but then he told you that he and Chrissy decided to live together for junior year, so it became settled that it would only be you, Robin, and Vickie. Which sounded great, and you were already excited about it since you hated living alone, but the apartment-hunting part quickly proved to be a lot more of a nuisance than any of you had expected.

“Fuck it, let’s just do a four-bedroom, then,” Robin said, shrugging. “There are a bunch more options for those, anyway. Like, the one I showed you guys yesterday. That place was perfect.”

“Did I miss the moment when our fourth roommate magically appeared?” Vickie asked, a playful smile on her face. 

“We can easily find someone else in one of those, like, Facebook group things.”

“That’s honestly not a bad idea,” You responded, already going to pull up Facebook on your laptop. 

Robin smiled. “Thank you. I always have great ideas.”

Vickie gave her a look. “Do I need to mention the ‘donating blood to get concert ticket money’ idea you had a week ago?” 

“No, that’s okay. We don’t need to discuss that low point.” 

You were the one who showed them Talia’s posting on one of the “searching for roommates” groups. She seemed nice and interesting and both Robin and Vickie thought so too. The three of you put together a quick message— briefly introducing yourselves and that you were looking for a fourth roommate— and sent it.

“Okay, fourth roommate, check,” Robin said once you pressed send. “Now, we have to get the place that I showed you guys yesterday.”

You laughed a little. “Let’s wait until she actually says something, Rob.”  

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

Spring Semester 2018

Initially, it felt equivalent to a family meeting. Well, more so what you imagined a family meeting would be like because the four of you never actually had to have one before. 

But then, it actually felt like you were giving some sort of speech or presentation because of the setup. Robin, Vickie, and Talia were on the couch and you were standing in front of the TV and explaining everything to them. 

You kept in most of the details— you and Steve agreeing to fake date, your feelings for Eddie being the reason behind it all, and how it was only meant to go until Spring Break. 

Aside from the fact that they all seemed shocked to learn that you had feelings for Eddie, their collective thought was that the entire relationship between you and Steve had seemed so real.

“We were just really good at faking,” Was your response to Vickie specifically saying how cute you two had looked together; especially during the one reality TV night where Steve came over and picked the show.

You remembered that night pretty well, but you didn’t remember any specific moments where you had felt as if you and he had to “play up” the relationship or lay the PDA on thick since Eddie wasn’t around that night, so you weren’t sure how that moment was considered a definingly cute one for the two of you. 

“Were you good at faking or was it not really fake?” Robin asked, giving you a certain look. 

“Definitely fake,” You didn’t hesitate to answer because you deliberately didn’t want to think about her question too deeply. “We’re not even really friends, and he just went on a date last night. Hence the Eddie punch.”

Eddie was still sleeping in your bed. When you got back from Steve’s place, you weren’t in the mood to wake him up or tell him to shift over and make room for you, so you spent the night on the couch. 

“Damn, it kinda sucks that we’re never gonna see him again. He was the only one that liked when I made the pumpkin cheesecake cookies,” Talia said.

Vickie laughed a bit. “The only reason we don’t like it is because that's clearly a Fall cookie, Tal, and it's Spring right now.” She then looked as if she thought of something. “Hey, but at least you won’t have to get stuck on a team with Eddie for game night anymore. We’re back to individual stuff or you being the referee.”

Talia smiled. “Thank you for reminding me.”

“Wait, that just made me remember something,” Robin started. “Guys, I need you to please hear me out on this one,” She paused for what seemed like dramatic effect. “I think it's time to bring back Monopoly.”

There was a collective groan that immediately filled the air upon hearing her suggestion. Monopoly was a near friendship-ending game for you all, and it was only meant to be played on the rarest of occasions; which actually meant never. 

You sat down on the small loveseat then, glad that the subject had been shifted and that your speech, mixed with a Q&A, was over. “Robin, why do you wanna ruin all of our friendships?”

She quickly shook her head. “Come on, it’s been months. We’re all much more mature and reasonable adults, and I doubt we’ll have any arguments like last time.” 

Before any of you could respond with any sort of rebuttal, your bedroom door opened and out walked a tired looking Eddie. 

“Somehow, I heard the mention of Monopoly and I’m here to immediately veto that suggestion.” 

Robin rolled her eyes at him. “Go back to sleep, Munson.”

The game night conversation continued, and from there, things were normal. And you didn’t mind the normalcy that your life settled back into over the next few days and then weeks— even though, at one point, the thought of it bothered you and you had missed a lot of the things that came along with fake dating Steve. Now you knew there was no point in missing any of it; in fact, it felt kind of dumb to. 

Your classes got more and more intense during the entire month of April, so there wasn’t that much time to think about Steve or wonder what he was up to. However, the moments you did think of him surprisingly hit hard. 

When you all ended up playing Monopoly at game night, after Robin’s many begs and pleads, you thought about Steve and how different things would’ve been if he was there. You imagined him as a pretty competitive Monopoly player, and felt almost certain that he would’ve either had the biggest rivalry with Robin or formed some sort of alliance with her; she was the one that actually ended up winning after an intense and exhausting seven hours of playing that night. You wished that he could’ve been there. 

And then there were the reminders of him that were left around— his t-shirt that you’d never gotten around to giving back to him, his sunglasses that you didn’t realize you’d stolen until you were finally finishing unpacking your stuff from the Mexico trip, and the bear that he got you for Valentine’s Day that you refused to ever get rid of, but you eventually stuffed Hartford away in your closet instead of leaving him on your desk to make things feel easier. 

Anytime one of those moments happened where you randomly thought about him, you immediately reminded yourself of the rule and simply buried yourself further in whatever school assignment you needed to focus on, or made abrupt plans with Eddie, Robin, Vickie, or Talia. 

It was late in the month when Talia wanted to set you up with a guy from one of her classes, who she claimed would be “perfect for you.” Initially, you were hesitant— more so leaning toward no than yes— but he had the Talia stamp of approval, so you let it happen. She gave him your number and there were a handful of text messages shared between you two that led to a museum date a week later. 

It wasn’t terrible. But, your heart wasn’t in it at all, and neither was your head most of the time. And by the end of it, more specifically as you were in the elevator headed back up to your apartment, you realized that you probably wouldn’t see him again. 

When you walked into the apartment, you spotted Talia in the kitchen and the entire apartment smelled amazing; which, of course, didn’t surprise you at all.

“Hey, what are you making?” You asked as you pulled off your jacket and hung it on one of the empty hooks next to the door. 

“I got bored, so I decided to do a quick roasted chicken. It’s in the oven now,” She said, shrugging as if that was entirely normal. It would never not amuse you how her boredom would always spur on elaborate meals. “So, how was the date?”

“It was fine. Good, actually,” You answered after the briefest moment of hesitation. “He was pretty cool and we had a lot in common and stuff. But, I don’t know… It just didn’t feel right, I guess. My head was in a different place a lot of the time. Thinking about other stuff.”

“About Steve?”

Hearing her say that, surprised you. “What? No. I haven’t talked to him in like a month.” 

She gave you a quick shrug. “That doesn’t mean that you can’t think about him.” 

“I guess that’s true, but I haven’t really thought about him,” You said. It was a small lie that you were okay with telling because you didn’t want to admit or even ponder what it meant that you did think about and were so easily reminded of him sometimes. 

“I’m kind of surprised that you two aren’t friends or something,” She told you as she went to grab something from the fridge. “I don’t think I could do a whole fake dating thing with someone and not, at least, be friends with them after it.”

You leaned back against the counter. “We came up with a bunch of rules when we started it, and that was one of them.”

“To not be friends after?”

“Not exactly that, but pretty much, yeah. The rule was to go our separate ways once the fake dating was done,” You shrugged. “Becoming friends was the last thing on both of our minds when we came up with that since we were basically strangers at the beginning of this. And when we were ending things, we both knew that it would be impossible to be friends after because of all of the lies that started this.” 

She looked at you then. “But we all know the truth now, though. So you two could be friends and none of us would question it.” 

Talia’s words made complete sense and they were something that you should’ve realized and thought about a lot earlier than this moment. You were quiet for what felt like forever because you didn’t know what to say in response. Your immediate reaction was to still say no, you couldn’t be friends with him, but if she followed up and asked why, you knew that you wouldn’t have an answer. 

When the oven started beeping, it felt like a very “saved by the bell” kind of moment. Talia pulled out the chicken from the oven and let the conversation shift from there. “You got back from your date just in time, by the way. You wanna try this?” 

“Of course, I’ll never turn down anything you make.”

You went to your room first to change out of your date outfit and put on some pajamas instead and then you joined Talia back in the kitchen. The chicken was quite literally perfect, which didn’t surprise you, and you retreated to your room for the night after you finished eating, while Talia put on a documentary that she had to watch for one of her psychology classes. 

As much as you tried to focus on anything else as you lay in your bed, you inadvertently spent the rest of the night thinking about Steve— it was too hard not to. 

You thought about every moment that you had been reminded of him over the past month— how it hadn’t felt like much at first, but when you thought about it all at once, it was a lot. You also thought about what Talia said and why you and he weren’t friends even though it was pretty obvious that you should be— what else could explain why you both had prolonged and dragged out the conversation in his car the night you two “broke up”? Neither of you had wanted to let the inevitable happen. 

All of this was about more than just following the rule to you. Of course, it was about more than just that. 

Deep down you knew exactly why you couldn’t listen to what Talia said— why you couldn’t text him, go to his place, or do anything else to lean into that short-lived friendship you two had that you actually had a feeling was still there— but right then you refused to admit it. 

Instead, you grabbed your phone and put on a random podcast just so you could use the noise to drown out your thoughts and force yourself to fall asleep.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

It wasn’t until a few days before finals that you thought about Steve again. It was kind of hard not to because you ran right into him— or more so tripped over him. 

The campus library during the week before finals week was probably one of the worst places to be, but you were in a last-second search for a book that you needed to do an essay on and you refused to buy it online because, for some reason, it was way too expensive.

Your eyes were trained solely on the spines of books as you searched for the one in particular when you tripped over something in the middle of the aisle. It wasn’t a full-on fall, just a very awkward stumble, but it somehow felt just as embarrassing. 

You let out an abrupt yelp in the middle of your stumble and heard a voice before you even got to see what caused you to trip. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry.” 

You recognized Steve’s voice immediately and it sent a surprised jolt through you as you turned to look at him. He was leaned back against the long bookshelf with his legs stretched out and there was a textbook opened in his lap. He must’ve just been sleeping because you saw him rub his eyes and let out a quick yawn.

He looked up at you as he crossed his legs under him instead of having them stretched out in the aisle. He seemed as if he was surprised to see you too, but from the look on his face, you could tell that he saw it as a good surprise; you weren’t sure if you could say the same just yet. “Shit, now I feel worse knowing that I just did that to you.”

That got the smallest smile out of you. “Yes, you should feel a thousand times worse for almost ending my life.”

“I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you sleeping here?” You asked. Both of you were keeping your voices low because you were on one of the quieter floors of the library. 

He shook his head. “I’m not sleeping. I was taking a break from studying for a test and just resting my eyes for a second.” 

“So sleeping?”

“A very brief nap,” He corrected.

“Ah, okay, got it,” You nodded, words coming out completely sarcastic. “Sorry for interrupting your very brief nap then.”

“Sorry for almost killing you.”

“Thank you.”

You knew that you should’ve let the brief conversation end there. You should’ve looked away from him then and continued searching for the book you needed to find. But, you didn’t. 

Instead, after the briefest moment of lingering silence between you two, you sat down across from Steve. The book and the essay that you needed to work on became the farthest things from your mind for the time being.

You didn’t have the strongest grasp on what you were doing right then and why you were doing any of it, but you decided not to question it. Instead, you simply did what felt good in the moment. 

You leaned back against the bookshelf opposite Steve and crossed your legs as well. “Hi.” 

He gave you a questioning look at first— maybe he was also expecting the conversation to end in that previous spot; like it would’ve with any other two people who weren’t really friends that had just randomly bumped into each other. 

But then, he was smiling, a genuine Steve Harrington smile that felt really nice to see. “Hey.” 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。

a/n: ….. i'm sorry for the cliffhanger !!!!

next part!

taglist (lmk if you want to be added or taken off<333); @eddiernunson , @loulouloueh , @the-aster , @blckburd , @totally-bogus-timelady , @yujyujj , @irhdifartzamfyaa , @mochminnie , @munsonssweets , @blckbrrybasket , @xprloki , @definitionwanderlust , @dwcode , @sun-fiower-seed , @keerysfolklore , @damon-loves-pie , @lodeddiperrodrick , @bisexual-and-intellectual , @munsonburn3r , @negomi123 , @khena , @facexthexsunshine , @seatbacksandtraytables , @suckerfordylansstuff

(if your user is crossed out it means i can’t tag you</3)

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Part 3 - Meeting Kyle For Coffee

This is not in chronological order but I needed for this to get out of my head. Takes place after the end of Charlie's Charmed!Slasher!Simon series.

(If you don't want to read it, in the end, Simon does serial killer things. What a rascal!)

Slasher Handler Masterlist

Kyle Garrick is just as unreasonably pretty as he ever was, sitting in the cafe and drinking something hot. He’s a bit leaner in the face than you remember from high school. His jaw is sharper, but his smile is still so inviting.

When he spots you coming, his smile seems to light up the whole room.

You say, “Thank you, for agreeing to meet with me. Give me just a minute to order?”

“I ordered you a caramel latte,” he says with a smile. “You still like them?”

“Yeah, I do,” you admit, and sit down.

“I asked them not to start making it until you got here,” he says, taking another sip of his drink. “Figured you’d appreciate it being made fresh. All things considered.”

You blow out a breath and lean back in your chair. “That’s… actually why I wanted to talk to you.”

“I figured,” he says with a grin. “We haven’t talked since just after graduation. We do each other a favor, then say our sad goodbyes. And years later, out of the blue you hit me up? Looking for another favor. Could break a man’s heart.”

You bite your lip and look at the smiling man across from you. A barista appears at your elbow with an almost overfull mug and places it gently on the table. She gives Kyle a grin before flouncing away.

“Cheers,” he says, lifting his own mug in a gentle salute. He waits until you’ve taken a sip to continue. “So, how big is he?”

“What?” When you look up at him, he’s still smiling. His face hasn’t changed. But his brown eyes are flat and empty. Your heart beats just a bit faster.

“How big is he? I don’t do things the way I used to. I need to know so I can make it look like an accident.”

The last time Kyle did you a favor, the coroner had not ruled it an accident. No one had ever been accused of or charged with the death of David Toole-Kirk. But that amount of thallium doesn’t eat a person from the inside out on accident.

“I… um. I didn’t ask you here for that kind of favor,” you say. Your hands are burning where they’re wrapped around your mug. You feel like if you take them off, you’ll freeze under his stare. “I was hoping that you could… give me some advice?”

That brings genuine mirth to Kyle’s eyes. “Oh, this aught to be good.”

“I just… there is a guy,” you say. “Just… Do you… still go… hunting?”

Kyle grins and sits back in his chair. “Hunting?”

“Please answer the question,” you groan.

His grin is wide. His teeth are perfect. “No, can’t say that I do. Bit more of the gardening type now, in my old age.”

“We’re not even thirty,” you say, dumbly.

“This guy you know,” he prompts, barely keeping back laughter. “He likes to… go hunting, then?”

“He’s a pretty avid… hunter,” you say, carefully. “But I was hoping that I might be able to help him find another… hobby?”

Kyle Garrick looks almost ready to burst at the seams with the laughter he’s holding in. If you hadn’t had such a recent and thorough reminder not to get complacent with predators, you might have swatted at him. As it is, you can only clench your jaw as you watch him try and fail to keep a straight face.

“I know,” you hiss, “I know.”

“You really, really don’t,” Kyle wheezes. “Oh my god.”

“He says he doesn’t want to hurt me,” you say, looking around nervously. “But he’s taken me hunting twice, and I can’t do that again.”

That’s what breaks him. He bursts into peals of laughter, peppered with “he’s taken you,”s and “oh my days,”s that fill the whole cafe. It shocks you into giggles.

“Will you quit it!” You eventually whisper-shout.

“How did you manage to meet two of us?” Kyle wipes tears from his eyes. “My word. He’s taken you on hunting trips, and now you want to find him a new hobby.”

“Please,” you hiss. “I’m a little bit desperate and a lot at the end of my rope, here.”

And then Simon Riley’s voice says, right behind you, “Garrick.”

You’re a little bit grateful that Simon’s hands wrap around your wrists from above at the same moment, because otherwise you’d have thrown your coffee in the air. His sternum presses against the crown of your head. You tip your head, just a bit, rolling your eyes up to see him. He’s not looking at you. He’s staring at Kyle.

Kyle grins. “Riley. Good to see you, mate. How’s the family?”

“Still dead, you muppet,” Simon says, pulling out the chair next to you and settling in. When you eye him, he’s got that not-quite-blank look that means he might be thinking about smiling. “How do you know my girl?”

“Went to secondary together,” Kyle says with a grin. “She was bloody terrible at chemistry. Luckily, we got paired up. I helped her with a personal project before she went off to uni. It’s been years. Was pleasantly surprised when she reached out.”

“You’re online?” Simon asks, disdainfully.

“Calls more attention not to be,” Kyle points out.

“Told you,” you can’t help but mumble into your drink.

Simon gives a considering hum and his usual answer. “Technically, I’m dead.” To Kyle he says, not bothering to lower his voice. “If you meet up with her without my permission again, I’ll kill you slow.”

You gape at him, and, daringly, slap his shoulder. “You can’t tell me who I can and can’t hang out with.”

He leans in to kiss your forehead. “Sure, sweetheart.”

[uncouth-the-fifth]

click, p.2 - Sam Winchester/Reader

read it on ao3.

Pairing: Sam Winchester/Reader (late s5) Tags/Warnings: angst, love confessions, romantic sex, oral sex/cunnilingus, (aka, Sam pussy addiction: the shequel), Sam is Lucifer's vessel, reader is AFAB. Word Count: ~11k. Notes: i was commissioned for the second time by the lovely @daffodil-mania, who wanted a continuation of her last fic set during the "say yes" era of s5. (sooooo dangerous to let me put my grubby hands on this version of Sam, btw). i cannot express how BUCK FUCKING WILD uncouth-nation went for the first part of this fic, so this is for all the wonderful people who gushed over click, commented, threw me some kudos, or even just read it and liked it. lots of love, and i hope you enjoy <3 i did my best to rip out your soul as best i could. THIS CAN STAND ON IT'S OWNNN AHHH. i mean. if u wanna read it <3 Ask to be added to my taglists for future posts!

FIVE YEARS LATER

The walk from the bus stop to your apartment is a safe and easy seven minutes. If you were any other person in any other world, you’d glide onto the bus after your night shift at the university, hop off at your stop, and bumble toward your apartment without a single care in the world. Maybe stare at your phone the whole walk back. Text a hot guy who isn’t the physical manifestation of the devil on earth. Normal stuff.

But this is your life, so you sit front seat on the bus, hands in your lap, tapping a nervous beat against the angel blade hidden in your book bag. The windows rattle in their frames and gleam with rain. You could get off at your stop and take those easy seven minutes home—but the bus driver could also be a demon, so.

Since you aren’t in the mood to die a slow death tonight, walking a few extra blocks to keep anybody from knowing where you live will have to work.

On day two of this, you’d called Dean and asked if you were being extra paranoid. He’d kindly pointed out: Extra-paranoid is just extra-survival. I dunno about you, but survivin’ a lil’ extra sounds fan-fuckin-tastic to me right about now.

He’s right. You know he’s right. But it still doesn’t feel like a good answer, and that makes you picture Sam, twenty-three and still bright-eyed, running his fingers down your bare back and scowling. I’m sick of surviving. One of these days, I want to actually live my life.

But that had been before the apocalypse, before Dean’s deal, before everything. Sam was a different man now. Hunting had reached into all three of you and ripped all sorts of things out, but you would never forgive it for taking Sam’s hope for something better. God, you missed that Sam. You missed him more than anything.

The city bus lumbers up to the curb and spits you out onto the sidewalk, where you superstitiously hover, waiting for the other passengers crawling away from their night shifts to scatter. It’s only when the bus is a dark spot in the mist down the street that you start to walk, your whole body caked head to toe with oily rain. 

This time, you take a random left toward your apartment and serpentine street-to-street, never walking the exact same way the same week. By the time you’re closer to where the bus could’ve actually dropped you off, the lingering smell of old research books has been practically power-washed out of your clothes. You try to think of anything but the freezing, biting, face-stinging rain… and, like a moth to a flame, your mind floats back to Sam.

It’s been over two weeks since he dropped the nuclear option. Over two weeks ago, Sam wanted to say yes to Lucifer, and over two weeks have passed since the massive, unstoppable-force-meets-immovable-object fight that’d erupted as a result.

Dean had blown up. Sam had pushed. You’d burst into tears and clawed into Sam just as deep, because why, why would he ever go there—why would that even be a fathomable possibility in his mind? Did he really think so low of himself? How could he ever give up like that? How could he leave you—?

The worst part was easily the way Sam had reacted. With Dean or John, he could yell himself hoarse, but when it came to fighting you all he could do was sit and take it. He put his head down and nodded at everything you said, even the cruel things. In some ways it made you angrier, but also inconceivably, cosmically guilty. This was Sam’s choice. And of course, because this was Sam, his choice was to save the whole goddamn world. Not a single bone in your body carried that level of selflessness, yet Sam bled the stuff.

You were still furious with him, but only because being mad at him was the only option you had left. The right thing to do would be to tell Sam, I trust you to make this decision, this is your life, and let him take that jump… But you didn’t have it in you. Saying that felt like pushing him over the ledge yourself, or telling him you’d never cared about him in the first place. If you were angry at least you were still fighting for him in some way.

You’d been on board for everything—trying to find a way out of Dean’s deal, trying to kill Lilith, everything. But the argument with Sam had torn out the final piece of you that could stand this, so you packed a bag, told Dean you’d be in a strict research-only role, and booked it back to your hometown. It was cowardly and stupid and beyond selfish, but you knew your stance. The hunt had taken everything from you. You refused to let it take Sam, too.

Maybe, Sam would take you stepping away as a serious sign to change his mind. You couldn’t imagine a world where Sam and his Winchester stubbornness would ever do that, but. It was a nice wish to hold onto.

By the time you make it up the steps to your apartment building, you’re soaked to the bone and audibly making pathetic shivering sounds. Your bookbag feels heavier than ever, digging a trench into your shoulder as you fish around for your keys. The second your apartment door is open the true weight of your exhaustion hits you—

—and then utterly disappears, replaced by a shock of pure adrenaline.

There’s a new pair of boots by your front door.

You catch the heavy door before it goes swinging against the doorjamb, straining your ears against the ringing silence. The bedside lamp is on in your room.

On dead-quiet feet, you slip in, click the door shut behind you, and slip off your bookbag. Your angel blade is in your hand in a second, but you risk a few extra steps toward your kitchen table to wiggle loose the pistol you taped underneath. Just the weight of your weapons in your hands flicks the hunter muscle memory back on in your body, and before you can think you’re hiding in the shadow beside your bedroom door. Listening.

Soft breathing. The pages of a book turning.

You know, instinctively, who it is—you would know him dumb and blind and dead. But these days, anybody could be piloting his body around.

You suck in a deep breath through your nose, heart throbbing in your ears. You wait until the fingers on your gun aren’t shaking anymore, then burst inside the room, slamming the door into the wall and whipping your pistol up to eye level.

Sam’s head flinches towards you. He is exactly as you saw him two weeks ago; solemn, determined, and open, the air around him practically steaming with safety and goodness. He’s sat comfortably on your bed, reading a book he brought with him. Despite everything, your belly still curls with butterflies when you lay eyes on him. Sam. Definitely Sam, and no one else.

Still, your paranoia has gotten you this far. You both stare at each other for a beat, equal parts scared out of your minds and relieved. Without a word, you keep your gun trained on him, and Sam lets you, his eyes big and understanding. You shuffle sideways to your dresser, and without turning away from him, pop open the top drawer and toss him the silver flask of holy water you keep hidden inside. 

He catches it. So, not a shapeshifter, then. Sam takes a drink of the holy water, even turning to the side so you can see the water go into his mouth. (A demon in Missouri had slipped past the three of you by pretending to sip—only Sam would know that.) You’re still a little terrified, but you manage to pull your weapons back down to your sides. You still don’t know what to say.

He’s really here. The part of you that had worried the argument with Sam would be your last wails with joy. He’s here, alive and in front of you. No matter how awkward you feel you can’t bring yourself to stop staring at him. By the buttery light of your bedside lamp, he literally glows with beauty, and you realize he’d scrubbed his boots off on your welcome mat to not track mud in, and he’d hung up his rain-soaked jacket in your shower to dry. Stupid polite Sam things.

You dare to glance back at your kitchen, then swivel to squint at him. “Did you… do my dishes?”

Sam lets his hands relax into his lap and nods, shy. He’s looking at you in a way he never really has before, eyes big and soul-rending. “…Yeah. I used the key you gave me to get in… Hope that’s okay.”

There’s another long pause. Usually when you stare at Sam, he doesn’t stare so intensely back, but you share a weird mutual moment where you just stand there and take each other in. It’s so obvious it’s painful, but if he’s doing it then you feel entitled to devour him with your eyes too.

“I got, uh, bored. Waiting for you,” Sam clarifies. “Thought I’d make myself useful.”

Sam stands from the bed. For a second you think he’s heading straight for you, but he moves toward the dresser behind you, kindly tucking the holy water back where it was stowed. You flit out of his way as fast as you can and set your weapons down on the closest available surface, feeling off-kilter. Why would he come here? Is he going to tell you that he changed his mind?

You hold onto the question, but you know it’s too out of character to hope for. Despair sinks into your gut like a rock in a pond. You know why Sam’s here. He would never make this decision without telling you first—without at least saying goodbye in person.

Your throat locks up with tears.

Behind you, Sam hums, “You changed your hair.”

Right. You’d altered it to be more undercover. You resist the urge to reach up and play with your hair, or give in to any of the fluttery feelings you always feel around Sam. “It’s safer.” Tightly, you ask him, “What are you doing here?”

Sam drags a long breath through his nose. You clutch the end of your bookshelf, your chest crumpling with misery. Please don’t say it. Please, please, lie to me if you have to.

“...I’m not taking the jump,” Sam breathes.

There’s more that he says after that. He talks about how you and Dean are right, and how, surely, after everything that the three of you have been through, there’s got to be another way to end this. You’ve always found another way in the past. Sam explains all this to you in a sure, quiet voice, like this is something he’s thought about for a long time, but you barely hear him after those first words. There’s this persistent tension in your chest that’s telling you that there’s something wrong here, but you don’t care—you don’t give a single fucking shit, because Sam—Sam isn’t saying yes. Sam’s staying.

“…are other ways I can make up for the mistakes I made,” he’s telling you, scrambling to fill the nagging silence.

You take a moment to force back your tears, and Sam, nervously, keeps talking.

He swallows, trying to smile. “I-I would’ve called and told you, but something tells me you wouldn’t have picked up.”

When you’ve got your bearings back, you push away from your bookshelf and turn to face him. Your legs are so leaden that you feel as if you have to physically pick up your body and drop it down the other direction, but you manage it. “What… what made you change your mind?”

Sam gets one look at your face and wilts with guilt. He doesn’t answer your question in words—just shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down at his feet, then around your room, as if his reason was in the air with the two of you. In the apartment. His eyes flicker over you just once, and you understand. Seeing you leave really had scared him.

“Be careful,” you start to joke with him, “you start validating my childish reactions and we’re gonna have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

Sam scoffs. “It wasn’t childish to run away.”

You raise an eyebrow at his word choice, which gets an honest-to-god laugh out of him. A real good Sam Winchester laugh, dimples and all. The last dregs of anxiety in your gut melt at the sound, and Sam reassures you, shrugging, “You needed to get out. In case you forgot, I kind of invented wanting to get out. I understand. I really do.”

You know that he does. That’s not exactly going to stop you from feeling guilty about ditching them, but at least it kicked some sense into him. God. For the last five or six years, your every moment had been spent with Sam and his brother. Even just a couple weeks without him had drained you, and having him back only makes those feelings more clear. Sam’s presence commands the space in a way that turns your shitty, undecorated bedroom into someplace magical, someplace good and safe and warm, and just seeing him standing there draws the ache out of your spine.

Your reach out for his sleeve. Somehow, he’s more real than ever, a tangible person instead of the memory you’ve chased for so long.

“You’re really not saying yes?”

Sam unwinds your hand from the fabric so he can hold it instead, your fingers scooped in his fingers. You’re given a firm squeeze and are hypnotized by him in an instant, the world narrowing down to this moment between just him and just you.

Sam looks into your eyes when he promises, “I’m not going anywhere.”

The tears you’d resisted before return in one big, merciless wave. You’re so tired and the rain was so fucking cold and you’re so sick of being scared that Sam, thank god, Sam, is everything you could possibly need. He’s not going anywhere. Before you can stop yourself you’re clutching him for dear life, shoving your face in his shirt and crushing his body against yours. These last few weeks have submerged you in survival mode, and you don’t realize how deep until Sam pulls you out of the current. He’s warm and dry, and when you inhale to sob he smells like a 24-hour-laundromat, the Impala, and home home home. You could’ve lost that. You could’ve lost him.

“Th-thank you,” you choke out at nothing in particular, “thank you.”

You’ve cried a lot this week, so there are not many tears left to shed. Still, Sam holds you through all of them, swaying back and forth with you and cooing in your ear. You hear him sniffling too. When you’re both all sobbed out, you pull back to tell him you love him, to remind him of all the things he needs to hear, but Sam strangely doesn’t let you. The second he feels you pull away he clutches you back against him, and you get the uneasy impression that you’ve been comforting him more than he’s been comforting you. His whole body’s shaking.

Sam hugs you for longer than he ever has before. It’s a little worrying, but you’ve both needed it so much that you don’t even complain.

After a while, Sam slips back, and in traditional Winchester fashion tries to play off his vulnerability. He’s always been a dead-silent crier, so you have zero way to gauge how bad things are until you see his face. He looks like he’d sobbed his heart out. Your shirt is still wet from the rain, but even then you can feel Sam’s tears soaking your shoulder. Saying anything about it will just embarrass him, though.

“...I-I, uh,” you lick the tears off your lips, mumbling, “I don’t know bout’ you, but I’m beat. Do you have somewhere you gotta be, or,” you add hopefully, “or can you stick around?”

This is the part where Sam will start coaxing you to drive back with him to where he and Dean are holed up, you’re sure of it. You’re already plotting in your head what to pack and what to take, but Sam never brings it up. He doesn’t worry about tomorrow yet.

He presses his lips together. “I was hoping I could stay here tonight, actually.”

This is an even better answer. You’re nodding before he’s even finished the thought, stroking your hand down his chest. It twists your gut in knots to see him like this, so you start to steer the conversation toward something more playful, something less daunting to think about.

“You’re lucky I like you then,” you smirk. Somehow, you manage to peel yourself out of his bubble and teeter toward your dresser, scrubbing the tears off your face. “Make yourself comfortable. I dunno about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of these work clothes, I’m freezing. Do you need anything to sleep in? I’ve got at least five years of your stolen shirts in here.”

You hear him ease himself down on the end of your bed again, but there’s no sassy retort, sly comment, or any sort of line about you and your stealing habits. Instead, sweet and simple, he says, “I’ll just sleep in this. You can have them.”

Okay. Weird.

Since he didn’t take the bait, you throw out another line and try again. This time, you kick off your shoes, open a drawer, and turn back to him with two of his shirts in hand. “Really?” You wave them teasingly in the air. “You sure?”

They are some of his best shirts, easy. You’re not a cheap thief. The first is a holey, feather-soft Red Hot Chili Peppers tee, and the second is a deep maroon Stanford sweater. He has so few artifacts from that time in his life that there’s no way he won’t want this one back. Right?

But Sam just gazes at you, his whole face soft and loving as he says, “You should wear the Stanford one. It looks good on you.”

Those old hot-shivery feelings for him seep down your spine, and you feel in real-time how your cheeks flood with heat. Damn, okay. Consider yourself wooed.

You’ve been down this road with Sam many, many times—enough to know when he’s flirting with you. The forbidden labels had never been thrown around, but. Well. Sam had been your first time, as well as the many other times after that.

He’s usually leagues more subtle than his brother, but for whatever reason he’s pouring it on by the truckload tonight. When you turn around he’s nothing but big, happy puppy eyes, waiting patiently for you at the end of the bed. (Like you’re his girlfriend. Like anything about this is normal at all, and you and Sam are going to tuck into bed together like it’s any other night). Fuck, you missed him.

The bathroom is only a few steps away, but this is Sam, so you decide to just throw on your pajamas right here. Your shirt is so wet that it hits the floor with a slap. It also takes some experience to wring yourself out of your denim-turned-cement jeans, so it’s not the sexiest show in the entire world. Still, Sam’s gaze traces sensual lines down your back. You would rather go to literal, actual hell than wear your bra for a minute longer, so the second you’re free of its death grip, a long happy sigh drains out of you. A similar dreamy sigh drains out of Sam. Dork.

“I will never get tired of that,” Sam murmurs. You expect to hear some kind of hunger there, but the timber of his voice bleeds with admiration and fondness.

There are very few ways to be a normal human being while Sam Winchester adores your nude body with his eyes. The best you can do is burst into flustered, giggly laughter and give him a good eyeroll, your entire face cooking like a stove burner.

“Alright, loverboy,” you scoff, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and take my makeup off—”

“Can I help?” Sam asks.

You sputter out another laugh, confused. “You wanna brush my teeth for me?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head, smiling big, “Lemme take your makeup off for you.”

Okay. Weirder. But it’s sweet, and you like this side of him, so you decide to indulge his mood. “...Sure.”

You go about your night-time routine. Sam continues to be a weirdo, trailing you into the bathroom, leaning against the doorframe, and blinking slow endearing blinks at you as he… watches you brush your teeth. Just. Stands there, watching, utterly enamored with this little moment of domesticity with you. On the surface level you’re a little thrown off, but it falls under the category of Freaky Sam Things that made you catch feelings for him in the first place, so. You grin into your toothbrush the whole time.

When he’s satisfied by his little ogling fest, he drifts off to hunt around for your makeup wipes. Either you’re predictable or he knows you too well, because he finds them within seconds, and patiently sits back as you finish up your routine, watching you like you’ll disappear on him the moment he turns away. Click click, you feel inside you.

“Okay,” he says when you’re done. “Close your eyes.”

You do. You wait for the cool touch of the wipe on your face, but instead, Sam’s big, rough fingers find your chin and hold you still. It takes conscience effort to not melt into his touch like a cat in a square of sunlight. Your willpower is nothing on Sam’s, though, so you give in quickly, sinking into his hand and sighing through your nose. In gentle swipes, he cleans your face. It must be a nightmare of smeared mascara considering how you’d cried earlier… And yet Sam had still been so transfixed by you. He’s the fucking best.

Sam’s hand tilts your head from side to side to survey his handiwork. Pleased, he tosses the wipe in the trash and says, “There you go.”

You open your eyes and go to double-check his work in the mirror, but Sam hasn’t removed his hand from your chin, and you really, really don’t want him to. His thick thumb comes up and caresses under your lips. He looks at you like he loves you, and with all the honesty in the world, he utters, “...You are so pretty.”

…The only way for you to survive this is by throwing him a dry look. “You’re full of shit. What’s your game, Winchester?”

That earns you another authentic Sam laugh, along with a handsome boyish smile. “There’s no game. What are you talking about?”

You squint at him. Liar.

“This.” You gestured between the two of you, suspicious. “You’re mooning over me. Why are you mooning? Are you planning something?”

A ripple of discomfort rolls across Sam’s face, but it passes too fast for you to read. His hands go right back in his pockets and he leans into the doorframe again. “I’m just… happy we’re not fighting,” he confesses.

Oh. That makes sense. Sam hasn’t exactly made up with you like that before, but. These times change everyone. You ease up on your teasing and admit, “Me too.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you away,” Sam says, and far, far too seriously for your liking, he whispers, “I’m sorry for everything.”

Your answer slips right out of your mouth without hesitation. “I forgive you, stupid,” your brows furrow together. “And I’m sorry, too. I said some pretty shitty stuff back there.”

Sam wilts against the doorframe a little. “Nothing I didn’t deserve.”

A dull pulse of anger flares in your chest, which flickers out and dies not a second later. There’s so much you want to say to that.

It is so fucking unfair—biblically, cosmically unfair—that Sam, the good guy to end all good guys, thinks of himself this way. He is the kind of righteous they make saints out of. And yet he sits in your silly little bathroom in your shitty little apartment and gives you that look, the look that says, I deserve this and so much more. I deserve to rot in hell for all eternity. He gave you that exact look when he brought up saying yes. He gives it to you now, because Sam sees everything as a sin to serve penance for—freeing Lucifer from the cage and making you a little worried. He thinks he’s so evil, so beyond saving. It makes you want to get your fists in your shirt and just shake him. 

You’re good! You want to scream. Just for once in your life, listen to me! None of this is your fault!

There’s nothing you could say to him that would ever make him let go of his guilt. But, at the very least, you could help him forget about it for a while.

“You beat yourself up too much,” you scold. Then, softer, you add, “C’mere, Sammy.”

Sam does as told, planting himself right in front of you. God, he’s changed. You look him over with a bittersweet smile. He used to be so spindly. The last few years have filled him out, forcing his body into something ready for war. The hunt reached in and tore all sorts of things out of people, but you’d been wrong about what it’d ripped out of Sam. His optimism was still there, warm and humming in the tissue of his body, and just seeing it fills you with hope. He looks so different from the man you’d had all to yourself in that cabin, but you can feel that he’s still in there. He’s still your Sam.

You take his face in your hands, smoothing your thumbs into his dimples and quietly, needily rasping, “...Can I take care of you?”

Sam’s whole body shudders with relief. “Please, yes.”

The next few beats of this dance haven’t changed. Like always, Sam comes flying in with a big, smashing kiss that shatters any leftover barriers between you. You’re not Sam’s girlfriend and he’s not your boyfriend, but Sam makes you his with this kiss. (If only for a little while). Your noses mash together and his eyes squeeze shut and then everything is just Sam, Sam, Sam at every angle. His hands are at his sides then suddenly they’re all over you, taking two greedy handfuls of your waist under the Stanford sweater. He jams your hips against his and kisses you senseless, towering over you, surrounding you, so that when you pull back to gasp for breath your lungs are flooded with his familiar heady love potion.

Either he’s giving off some Poison Ivy-level pheromones, or your body is so familiar with these steps that it knows what comes after this kiss… because you’re instantly wet.

You realized a long time ago that you and Sam have sex a bit too often for it to be considered “casual,” but even if it was, Sam is not a casual kind of lay. After that first soul-stealing kiss, Sam stares you down like a four-course meal, spins you around, pushes you down chest-first onto the bathroom counter, drops to his knees—

—and shoves his face between your legs like it’s his goddamn job.

In the middle of all your surprised shrieking and squirming, Sam nuzzles his face into your panties and moans deep and bassy in his throat, “Yes.”

Like he’s won something. Like he’s been waiting weeks to do this. Holy fuck, you’ll never get tired of that.

The second you have even an atom of your reason back, you slap a hand over your mouth. Neighbors! Sam has already forgotten what neighbors are, and is holy-mission-from-god-determined to make you noisy. He’s extra hungry for it tonight, too. You squeak out his name, not so much in shock, but more because having those huge hands squeezing where your ass starts to round out tends to produce a reaction, and Sam rumbles like a lawnmower in approval. Holy fuck.

He doesn’t have to ask you to spread your legs. One of the hands appreciating your ass slides between your thighs, cupping you through your underwear, and you have to try not to squeal when the meaty pad of Sam’s thumb swipes across your clothed folds. He presses a big kiss in that exact spot as he drags your panties down your legs, and it’s a weirdly sweet gesture that makes your heart and your belly flutter with shivery heat. Fuck. Fuck, you missed him so much.

The first few times Sam had sprung this move on you, you hadn’t exactly had enough time to fully rev up. But Sam is deadly efficient in and out of the bedroom, so he makes a point to get you extra wet (for him) with his spit, laving his hot, slippery tongue over you in one long swipe. He eats you out with all the obscene, noisy enjoyment of somebody gorging on the juiciest fruit they’ve ever tasted. Even you are scandalized.

It becomes embarrassingly clear that covering your mouth isn’t going to keep Sam from what he wants. The high, desperate moan you try to stifle only makes him work harder. You press an arm flat to the counter and bury your face in it for strength, since you’re weak and whimpering for him already. 

Sam was good in bed when you met him. But, by nature, he is a relentless and avid learner, and it’s been five whole years since he put his mouth on you for the first time. Now, Sam is a certified pussy-eating weapon. He knows your body better than anyone possibly could. You’re over the edge in a minute flat.

Your climax flies through you in one whizzing, sparking rush, then keeps flying, until your body’s squeezing out little squeaky pleas for mercy of its own accord. This is his favorite part. You claw into the countertop and wail for it, pushing at the floor in your socks to gain any sort of leverage. To press closer? To squirm away? You have zero fucking clue, since the thought part of your brain has been blasted into a smoking crater. Sam wraps a big arm around your spasming thigh to pin you open, and holy fucking shit, could that man suck the chrome off a tailpipe. His mouth is a whirlwind of licking and suction just on the right side of oh fuck too much that makes your skin feel like it’s fizzing. You are a thread that he’s just pulling and pulling until you’re so thin you could snap into nothing—

You wait for the moment when Sam pops off you, stands up, and goes for his zipper, but he never does. He remains on the floor, determined to lick you through overstimulation and straight into round two. But that’s a whole minute you could spend with his dick inside you instead, and there’s no fucking way you’re wasting that. Not when he’s here and real and not going to say yes. Sam’s not going anywhere. He’s staying, he’s alive, and the world isn’t going to end tomorrow.

“No no no,” you bite out in one short, rattling breath. “S-Suh—Sam, please please—” An unexpected sob shreds out of you. “Miss you. Need you.”

You’re actually, genuinely crying, and not entirely in the fun sexed-out way. Sam backs up. He’s not even halfway standing when you wrench him up the rest of the way, straight into a desperate, maddening kiss. It’s a brutal cross of teeth and tongue. The need for body heat and skin and him burns through you like genuine bloodlust, so you cram yourself up against him with life-or-death urgency. You get your nails into him until you feel something like shirt fabric and viciously yank it over his head, waiting for the moment when he grabs your wrists or shoves you onto the bed o-or—or starts to blow off steam. Cause’ that’s what this is all about, right?

He drags your mouths apart. Sam pants, “Slow down.”

You stop.

This is. This is new.

There’s no slowing, with this. You both go and you keep going until there’s no more fuel in your tanks, and you crawl out of bed the next day feeling like you’ve beaten the rot out of each other. You’ve never once slowed down during this before, and as your wheels spin to a halt for the first time, reality filters back in around you.

Sam stares at you. His hair is all over the place. A patchy blush speckles up his heaving chest, burning in his ears and in his cheeks. Your slick shines on his lips and the bulb of his nose. He’s just standing there and fucking looking at you, but for whatever reason it feels like the color has seeped back into the world.

“S’okay. Gonna be okay,” Sam hushes, bleeding with sweetness.

He picks up your hands, moving you as if you were a delicate glass he was turning over in each palm. Each of your hands are kissed in the center (oh my fucking god) then wrapped around his neck, and when he has you in his bubble he scoops up your face and kisses you.

It’s a boyfriend kiss. Not a blowing off steam thing, or any other excuse the two of you have used to feel each other. A genuine, I’m your boyfriend and I love you sort of kiss, foreheads pressed together, noses touching, the whole nine yards. It’s the kind of kiss that’s meant to say something. Every inch of what he’s trying to tell you echoes through your body in one ringing smash, like you’re a big cymbal he’s taken a mallet to. 

He slips off your lips and hovers, bracing himself for impact. You suck in a rattling breath.

…Then you press up onto your tiptoes to give him a kiss of your own, just pressing your lips against his, unmoving. It’s undemanding; an answer. You try to find the words to describe the shift that’s occurred between you, and end up feeling stuttery and shivery and fucking elated. Romantic. It’s fucking romantic.

“Sammy,” you sob out.

“Shhh. C’mere,” Sam whispers, his voice throaty and whiskey smooth. “Lemme make it better.”

He tries to walk you straight back out of the bathroom and towards the bed, he really does, but you stop Sam every other step to overwhelm him with obsessed, affectionate kisses. God. His chapstick is all over your fucking mouth (along with your slick) and his hands are everywhere else, feeling instead of grabbing.

“You always do,” you breathe, and that might be the most honest thing you’ve ever said to him in bed.

Sam gets this quiet, pleased smile on his face. No matter how naked and turned-on you are, you’ve always got a snappy reply ready, and you’re about to throw one at him—until you’re fucking obliterated. He smoothes his palms down your arms. Your wrists are scooped up again. With all the tenderness on the planet, Sam slides in close, kisses your throat, and places both of your hands firmly on his belt.

“Take it off,” he rasps.

This. This isn’t the first time he’s given you that order. But knowing, feeling that he’s playing this all out like it’s more than a fling to him… that Sam’s gonna fuck you like you’re someone special to him… sweet jesus, it makes you lightheaded.

“Bossy,” your murmur, grinning.

You’re downright feverish going in to kiss him next. Sam parts your lips with a slow, sinful swipe of his tongue, and there must be a drop of psychic still in him, because suddenly you’re flooded with visions of that filthy mouth between your legs. You can still feel the ghost of him there, keeping you open with his thumbs as the blunt tip of his tongue pushes you somewhere vast and sparkly and wonderful. This is going to be even better.

He sounds like he’s praying when he says, “I just like to watch you.”

Muscle memory serves. You work his clasp open without peeking down and let it hang in his belt loops, mostly because it lets his jeans sling low on his hips in the most enticing way. His belly twitches at even the slightest touch of your hands; always so responsive. Sam drops his forehead on your shoulder to watch you work, and you take the rare opportunity to kiss the top of his head. This is one of your favorite parts. When his button is undone and his zipper’s down, you’re free to smooth your hand under his waistband and take a big handful of him.

You reach in and—squeeze. Sam’s hand snaps up to clutch your arm. His nails dig in, and he rocks forward onto his tiptoes to really dig into your touch. “Yes.”

It’s the kind of soft, needy sound that makes you want to smother him with kisses and hug him until he suffocates. Instead, you cooly purr into his hair, “So sensitive, Sammy.”

A hoarse, sharp laugh snaps out of him, which dissolves into a shuddering groan. You tug at his jeans until they’re somewhere you don’t care about anymore, and forget about everything else entirely at the sight of his cock. All these years of sneaking around with him have conditioned you. Just seeing the pretty speckling of dark hair that leads to it, then the real deal, hanging blood-hot and heavy between his legs, makes your tummy flip and your mouth water. One of a million embarrassing Sam-reactions you’ll have to bring to your grave.

You take his cock in your hand, trying to swallow back the slutty amount of saliva in your mouth. Sam whimpers. A real, desperate sound, with his nails stinging down your arms and everything.

“Know you wanted to slow down,” you struggle between open-mouthed pants, “b-but—can’t—don’t wanna wait—”

Sam physically curls towards you, his hips seizing into your hand and his arms hooking around your shoulders. You’re dragged in for a sloppy kiss so deep you swear it melds your souls together. Sam is just as affected, rumbling like a racecar in approval.

“Then don’t.” He begs.

If this was any other night, Sam would just take. You’d be face down and drilled halfway through the mattress by now, no preamble, all business. He got off and you got off and everyone was happy that way. Sam would want the room dark and you would hide your face in the bedding, the two of you eager to touch and experience but terrified of breaking the illusion. He’s so generous that you suppose he’s got to have at least one place in life where he’s selfish, and you’re happy to be his outlet for it, but.

You’ve never seen him take this way before.

He looks at you and he never really stops, transfixed. You don’t doubt you could walk in a circle around him and Sam’s eyes would follow you the whole way, his gaze oozing with longing and something else—resolution? Faith? You push him onto the bed, and he drops down as if hobbling into a pew for the first time, unsure how to clasp his hands in prayer because it’s only ever been something done in his head before.

You stand there for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“God,” Sam utters, spellbound. 

You’re blushing so hard that you forget to be sexy as you crawl into his lap, but Sam doesn’t care, still giving you those big slow doe blinks to express his love. It’s so different from the Sam you know (yet also so deeply, deeply him) that you forget what it means to be sexy entirely. He coaxes you closer to plant tender kisses under your chin, and the plan to seductively peel off your sweater for him and flash him your tits blips out of existence.

You wait for the moment when Sam shreds the Stanford sweater off you. Instead, those wonderful fucking hands tease under the hem to squeeze your waist, and Sam croaks out between kisses, “Should wear this all the time. You’re beautiful in anything, but this… you’re… mmn.”

Your heart gives a pathetic flutter. You press mindless kisses against his mouth and rock your bare core down on his lap, because he’s never acted this way before and you don’t know how else to return the favor. “Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sammy.”

The only reaction you get from him is a single huff out of his nose, like it’s something he can’t commit a whole laugh to. Like none of that matters anymore, like it would never matter for Sam, because his body may be beautiful, but it hardly belongs to him anymore. God, you’re shitty at compliments.

You’re fucking wonderful, you suddenly want to tell him. A whole swarm of little truths and sweet nothings roars straight up to the surface of your mind, a whole sea of better things you could say to him, but then one of those perfect hands is slipping between your legs and Sam’s asking you in that perfect, tinted glass voice, “You still on the pill?”

“Yes, doctor,” you tease.

Another flood of sticky heat rushes between your legs, because that question is always a precursor to being pressed into and filled and stuffed end-to-end by Sam’s dick. The one barrier that doesn’t—didn’t exist between you.

“Good,” Sam sighs, relieved, grateful. He never turned down going raw in the past, but he’s downright starved for it right now. Closer closer closer, his whole body begs.

You’re tugged in by a big hand hooked around your back, and you fall right into Sam’s summer-warm, sweat-sticky chest, giggling. He loops both arms around your middle and teddy-bear squeezes even more laughter out of you. The only way to hold yourself up is by planting two hands on his shoulders… which turns into his cupping his neck… then caressing his face, because it’s impossible to be witness to that quiet boyish grin and not shower him in affection. There’s all these little freckles on him that you can only see up close. He feels good, mystical good, prophetic-chosen-one type good.

This is the moment. You can feel the blood in your body pounding between your legs, and Sam’s cock bumps not-so-innocently against your core as you kiss one another. Every shift of his hands sends your muscles clenching tight, bracing for impact, but Sam doesn’t push into you just yet.

Your confusion must be clear on your face, because he says, “Just let me feel you for a second.”

And, obviously, you’re not an idiot, so you let Sam feel you for as long as he pleases. For the next ten uninterrupted minutes, you makeout like lovesick teenagers, whimpering and sighing and swallowing every sound the other makes. You’d always pegged him as a romantic. But seeing it, feeling it, adds a whole new dimension to him you hadn’t realized you’d been craving.

By the time the pool of need in your gut has opened up into a blackhole, Sam has caressed or squeezed or kissed every part of you ten times over. He continues to be weird and obsessed with you. (So still in character, then). Sam even pinches the ends of your ears and smooths his thumbs over the bumps of your ankles, being sexy about it but also a little terrifying. He touches you like he’s never gonna see you again.

Around the time that Sam starts suckling marks into your neck and trying to tickle you under your arms, you giggle out, “O-Okay—okay! Enough—!”

“Enough what?” Sam cocks his head. His hand makes another dive for your belly, making you shriek and squirm with more giggles. You try to wriggle away to protect your tickling sides, but Sam’s too strong and you’re a little in love with him, so it’s easy for him to pull you flush against him and blow tingly-warm breaths beside your ear. He purrs, “You need it that badly?”

“Fucking yes! So quit torturing me,” you pant, and you’re pretty sure this grin is going to get stuck on your face.

Sam’s smile gets even bigger. “Only if you say please.”

Your attitude slips from your grip like water. Next time, you’ll play push and pull with him, but right now there needs to be a lot more pushing and pulling in a different context.

The words are out of your mouth in an instant. “Please, Sam.”

As reluctant as he is to stop teasing you, Sam’s a little in love, too. He leans back enough to fist his cock in one hand, and you can’t help how your breath hitches when Sam’s touch follows the curve of your ass to where you’re soaked and sensitive for him. Those thick, maddening fingers spread you open. The velvety tip of his cock finds your hole right away, and your legs nearly give out when Sam starts to swipe himself up and down your folds one dizzying stroke at a time. Back…. and forth. Up… and down. Jesus fucking Christ.

“Okay, fine…” He concedes, his eyes glittering with joy. “You’re just so cute when you act all tough.”

Maybe not all of your attitude is gone. You bark out a laugh, telling him, “I hate you.”

Sam presses down for the last time, then presses in. You don’t mean to look into his eyes when he fills you up, and that’s probably what does you in. Sam’s rosy face flutters and twists with pleasure, but he never stops looking at you, not even once, terrified to miss even a small moment. The long hitching moan that slips out of you makes his whole face darken with desire. You’re pulled onto him deeper and deeper and deeper until—click. Cue the angel choir.

Your fingers dig desperately into his hair. Sam curls into you in one slow pulling movement, a thread pulled taut, until his face is stuffed in your neck and his hands are mindlessly scrabbling down your back.

“God, I love you,” he moans.

Soon your pussy feels achy and hair-trigger-sensitive and beyond full, which could mean that you’re all the way on him. It’s impossible to tell, since the first full minute of having Sam’s dick inside you sends you straight to the moon every time, where everything falls in peaceful slow-motion and the whole world hums with cosmic, sparkling pressure. You shove your face into him and nuzzle in a daze, little ripples of electricity sparking up your spine.

…Wait.

“What?” You register, slow.

Sam is still clutching you for dear life, even if the moment’s slowed and you’re both comfortable. He hugs you full-bodied, nose in your neck, tilted forward, the kind of hug where he sways you side to side with joy. Sam sucks in a harsh breath. Can’t hold back anymore.

“I love you,” he gushes. The words burn out of him, declarative, overjoyed.

There’s so much you want to say to that. But then Sam digs his fingers into your ass and pulls you off his lap, only to gloriously sink you down the rest of the way, and. Fuck fuck fuck. His cock drags thick and hot against the pliant walls of your pussy. You couldn’t be any more full if you tried, clamping down on him with long, silky ripples of pressure that outline the shape of him inside you in obscene detail. It’s the kind of mind-blowing that’s beyond comprehension, beyond feeble human understanding. Your eyes squeeze shut and you whimper into his hair.

“God, I love you,” he chants again through grit teeth. “So much. So fucking much.”

You find his face with your hands and kiss him quiet, tasting the promise in his mouth. When you part and the two of you really start to move, you kiss him again, and again, whispering where only he can hear, “I-I love you too.”

It should scare you how easily the confession slips out. You should be terrified, because even if you live to see next week, or next month, or next year, even if Sam isn’t saying yes to Lucifer, those words are a death sentence. And yet.

“I-I miss you,” you choke out, “I need you.”

“Me too. So much,” Sam soothes, his voice tight and sharp with restraint. You know his instinct is to jackhammer up into you and never stop, but he puts in effort to resist, letting you both marinate in the wonderful, glistening, twitchy feeling of each other. His hands are rubbing your back and he is so fucking warm, turning the rain outside to steam.

He doesn’t bounce you on his dick. It’s more of a slow, cresting drag, waves stroking a beach. You don’t think you could handle much more than that, anyway—sometimes these positions make him feel big enough to pop you like a balloon. What you can’t fit on your own, your weight pushes you down onto anyway, turning your whole body into a big expanding bubble of pressure ready to burst at any moment. You clutch at his shoulders and just throb around him for a second.

“Nuh-uh,” Sam leans away, not letting you shove your face in him like you want. Instead, a big hand cups one side of your neck and keeps you in front of him. “Wanna see your face. Look at me. Look at me,” he insists, genuinely pleading.

When your eyes find his, that’s when he decides to snap up into you for real. You don’t even get a full look at him. The arm slung around your waist drags you up off your wobbling knees, then slams you down into a beautiful, endless white space popping with color.

“Sammy!” You choke.

That’s the magic word. You’re instantly thrust up into four more lightning-fast times, one-two-three-four, and hitch out four squeaky gasps to match. Sam’s eyes bore into yours with every beat, blazing with liquid love. For a second you wonder if you’ve fallen back into your rough routine again. But then words and thoughts melt out of your brain altogether, because Sam draws you into the tenderest, sweetest kiss human beings are capable of, fucking into you deep and smooth with that deeper, smoother voice, “Keep saying that.”

Sammy Sammy Sammy, you rattle out under your breath. Sam hisses out your name the exact same way.

You do your best to help him out a little, bobbing up and down in his lap, but’s a drop of water in the ocean for him. All Sam cares about is seeing your reaction. He soaks up everything you do like a sponge, moaning when you moan, gritting his teeth when you bite your lip, grinding up as you stir down. The weight of his eyes on you is so heavy that your skin stings in its wake. Again, it’s Sam’s brand of freak-sweetness that makes you get stupid notions in your head about wedding rings and anniversary presents. But that’s—

…something he knows about. Something he just said to you five minutes ago. Above the haze of bouncing, rhythmic pleasure, you’re flooded with relief. You can tell him! Holy fuck, you can tell him!

“I love you,” you gasp out again, and just saying it feels like it could save the world. “O-oh, god, Sam—”

The breath you have left is stolen from you by another fierce kiss from him, so passionate it lets you taste the bassy, happy hum that rumbles in Sam’s throat. You’re devoured by feverish kisses for a full minute, then Sam pops off you to sob, “So much—so fucking much, yes.”

He slips a hand between the two of you to thumb your clit, stirring in and never once stopping. Every so often he’ll brush up against where you’re hot and filled to the hilt with him, your bodies sliding together with slick, filthy noises that are so—so fucking much that your thighs cramp up, protesting the constant pistoning. But the pleasure is easily worth the burn. Your core booms with long echoes of pleasure that shudder through the trembling spiderwebs that make up your nerves. You make a move to lean back on your hands and switch up the angle, (since you’re a damn good cowgirl, thank you very much), but Sam refuses to stop kissing you. He physically pulls you back in with a hand fished around your neck and kisses you breathless, determined to pound you to your climax one thorough snap of his hips at a time.

“So beautiful,” Sam gushes. His voice is hoarse and thready, like he’s moments away from bursting into tears of pure desire.

You smooth your hands down his flushed cheeks, telling him between huffy moans, “It’s okay, s’ okay, Sammy… so pretty… love you so much…”

You feel him pull the Stanford sweater up over your ass and out of his way, exposing more, more, more of your bare skin for him to touch. Sam palms the slope of your back and your belly in a daze, but that’s still not enough—he’ll never be satisfied with how little of you he’s had. He wants more. He wants forever. You embrace each other to the fullest, cheeks smushed together, chests flush, his parted lips claiming your throat, making you his—but. Sam’s breath ratchets up. Not enough not enough not enough—

In one ragged motion, Sam rolls you both over, tossing you back-first onto the bedding and smothering you with his weight.

A squeal of delight jumps out of you. “Hey!”

If Sam wasn’t all over you before, then he literally is now, dropping onto his elbows so he can cup your face in both hands and surround you completely. “Sorry,” he croaks, “need you. Need to fill you up.”

You whisper against his lips, “Then fill me up already.”

His thumbs press into your cheeks a little. Sam’s breath fans across your face, throttled by the lump in his throat.

“Tell me you love me again.”

Um. You don’t exactly have the sexy heat of the moment to hide behind this time, but you still want to say it for him. His eyes swim with something unreadable. Desire and love, enough love to put a lump in your throat too, but a third thing also. It worries you.

You bring your hands up to stroke his wrists, and give a bit too much of your soul to him when you promise, “...I love you, Sam.”

The words hit him like a bullet. Sam shudders from head to toe, unable to reign himself in any longer, and plants a long, surging kiss on your mouth that makes your belly flash with nuclear levels of lust. He squirms his hands underneath your body so he can cradle you against him—genuinely cradling, one palm cupping the back of your neck—and then burrows into you face-first, groaning your name as his cock nestles itself as deep as it can go.

With all of his weight on top of you, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. You caress and kiss and dig your nails into him, and somewhere along the way you’re given a dose of whatever has made him fucking insane for you right now. It fogs your head and turns your reason to ash, so when Sam returns to ruining you for any other man, you whimper, “Please don’t leave me.”

“Oh, baby,” Sam hiccups out, and something strange hangs in his voice.

You would ask him what’s wrong, but the shuddering, flimsy scraps left of your brain are busy being blasted all over by white-hot pleasure. Everything scorches. Sam’s bare skin and his breath and his hands feel fucking molten, melting you down like hot glass. You’re pinned down in every possible way, and it pushes the sinking, gorgeous pressure inside you all over your body, like it’s not just Sam’s cock filling you up, but him, just him, the source of all good in the world. Holy fucking fuck. His hips glide back and then thud back into you again and again and again. You get why it’s called making love, now. You can taste your love for him in the back of your throat, feel it sitting in a sticky film on your skin. It hangs like humidity in the air of your apartment. And jesus christ, it bleeds from Sam, glowing off him like fucking radiation.

When you’re shamelessly wailing gut-deep in ecstasy, Sam peels himself off you. He forces himself to sit up. His chest putters up and down with desperate little breaths, and a gloriously big hand scoops under your thigh and welds it against your chest. Whatever he sees from this new angle—probably your wet, abused pussy stretched tight around the full base of his cock—makes Sam gape, utterly transfixed. You watch as his mouth falls open, and then those dark, soul-swallowing eyes crawl up your body to meet yours.

“Keep lookin’ at me,” Sam rasps.

Even if he doesn’t sway your opinion with a few dizzying, stomach-deep drags of his cock, (which he does), you’re convinced. You lock eyes with him—and then suddenly feel stupid for not watching him the whole time. A long curl of hair hangs in his eyes and sways as he fucks into you. His expression flutters with these sinful little giveaways, exposing just how starved he is for you, how in love. Maybe if you’d looked back sometime in the past five years, that’s what you would’ve seen: how much this has always meant to him. He searches your face for the same pleasure, obsessed with his effect on you. 

“Fuck,” you shudder out. “C-could cum just watchin’ you, Sammy.”

“That’s right,” he hisses, and you’ve never heard him sound so damn happy. “Cum for me. Please. Look so pretty when you do.”

Usually, when he makes you cum, it’s the roughest part of the whole act. He’d get both your wrists pretzeled behind your back and pinned viciously in one of his hands, and that’s when you’d know the big finish was coming. His pace would go from bouncing to bruising. But this Sam, your Sam, would stop time if he could, so he slows down even further, winding you closer and closer to the top of the mountain with little figure-eights of his hips. He gazes down at you the same way you’re sure you must gaze up at him. Beautiful, he murmurs under his breath.

You utter another, tight, almost-sob of, “love you so much, Sammy,” and his dick twitches wildly shoved in you to the hilt.

“Ohh—shit,” he chokes out, and his other hand snaps desperately towards yours on the bed. They find each other easily, and you squeeze his hand with everything you’ve got, infusing in him all the love he’s infused in you.

The slow, mounting tsunami of perfection you’ve been moving towards finally overcomes you, and in one long gorgeous slippery rush you cum for Sam. And because your life is a movie—he cums for you too. He rocks faster and falls forward to kiss you, your faces pressed together, your mouths slotting against each other, your pussy squeezing down on him in golden rippling strokes. Sam hisses your name out between his teeth as he cums. You’re lanced straight through by a whole fucking universe of fluttering, flickering pleasure. To be honest, you’re a little pissed about it—because it’s the best fucking orgasm you’ve had in your entire life, and it’s all because Sam raggedly chants those words to you again and again, laying sloppy, obsessive, head-over-heel kisses all over your face. Love you love you so much baby you feel so good squeezin’ down on me.

You could’ve had this ages ago. How much more time could you have had with him, if you had just stopped being stupid?

Sam’s crazed, sobbing, hitching I love yous somehow become, in true Sam fashion, a low spiral of thank yous. He lays there and clutches you until there’s a Sam-shaped imprint in your body. You’re pretty sure he would stay inside you all night if he could, but you coax him into some cuddling instead, since you both are in desperate need. It’s. It’s new, but it feels cleansing in the holy way.

What feels like hours later, your brain dimly connects to the rest of your body. You’re halfway through detangling Sam’s hair with your fingers as he hides face-first in your chest, pretending he’s not embarrassed that he cried. At least, that’s what you assume. The Winchester mind is a mysterious one, and as much as you would hope to know what Sam’s thinking, the slow hand drawing circles on your hip tells you nothing. Is he shy that he got emotional? That seems silly, since you both sobbed into each other earlier. Is he embarrassed about everything he confessed? Does he regret it?

Just when your train of thought really starts to take the curves of your spiral hard, Sam tiredly croaks into your neck, “I meant what I said, y’know.”

He draws in a lungful of your perfume through his nose, soaking up as much of you as he can possibly get. His hands smooth over your body, innocent and loving, caressing you, memorizing you, begging silently for forgiveness. 

Sam is a dead-silent crier. But you hear him sniffle as he gushes, “God, I love you.”

Maybe if you hadn’t been so tired, you would’ve picked up on it. Or maybe you’d heard it in his voice, seen it, something, and ignored it, hoping it was something else. Everything he felt, he put into a teeny, unmarked box that he’d bury god knows where, far from where anybody could be hurt by it. Sam didn’t—he wouldn’t say that to you. Not unless it was the last time he ever could. He would feel it, but it’d go right into that box where it couldn’t hurt you. You should’ve known.

Lie to me, you’d begged him. 

…And Sam had.

_

The dull realization that you are awake sets in around noon. Noon as in after-noon, well past when you’re normally up and at em’. When you wonder why the hell you slept in so late, you remember last night’s rain, thrashing against the windows all night, and Sam, his face haloed by lamplight and bleeding with quiet resolution.

Sam. Alive, and not going to say yes.

He’d been the one to keep you up all night. With his mouth and his hands, yes, but then afterward he’d been hellbent on talking. Just… talking. You’d been sluggish and cozy and sated after having sex, but no matter how close you came to falling asleep, Sam wouldn’t let it happen. For two straight hours he asked you every question he could come up with to keep you up with him.

Do you remember when we met? Cause’ I do. Do you remember what I said to you? Do you remember what you thought about me? I remember thinking how similar we were, y’know, how much we’d get along. You were so pretty… my whole face went red every time you looked at me. Do you remember…?

Being cuddled, kissed, and protected by the man you love really tempts a girl to doze off, too, so this was not an easy battle. But Sam persisted. He studied your face intently, uttering I love yous even when sleep started to pull you under. Hearing any Winchester drop those words on you still blew your fucking mind, to be honest. Sam especially. But it was romantic as it was worrying, so you’d shut him up with a kiss goodnight and echoed it back to him. Love you, Sammy. It was probably just an anxiety thing, you assumed—Sam, for some fucking reason, was a pretty insecure guy, so you imagined that was his way of making sure you wanted all of this. He seemed… scared. He wasn’t used to being wanted.

The apocalypse was still on. Maybe the world would end tomorrow, or maybe you’d get lucky and live a whole lifetime with Sam. Regardless, he’s never saying yes to Lucifer, and that alone means that there’s still hope for the future. You’re going to spend every second of it making Sam feel wanted.

Sitting up in bed, you scrubbed at your sleepy face with the heel of your hand and stared around the room. Sam was physically incapable of staying asleep after five in the morning, so the familiar evidence of his military-efficient morning routine was all over the place. You smiled to yourself. He’d picked up after the two of you, and had tucked another blanket over you in your sleep. Stupid chivalrous dumbass.

To think, you’d been terrified you’d never see him again just last night.

You push out of bed, only to almost buckle onto the carpet rag-doll style. Even being torturously gentle, that man manages to make you sore. With a very, very happy groan, you hop (and wince) into some clean underwear, then traipse out into your kitchen to show that dork who’s boss.

“Dammit, Samuel, you’re not my maid—” you start to say, but of course, this is Sam, who wouldn’t miss a morning run for anything. Right. That explains your empty kitchen.

…But it’s afternoon. Sam would be back by now. Your gut prickles with a bad feeling, and you superstitiously sweep your apartment, looking for him. His clothes from last night are still sitting in your hamper, his shirt folded neatly in your dresser and his watch on your nightstand. A spike of nausea rolls through you seeing that his jacket is gone—and his boots. But his duffle—it’s. It’s still on your kitchen table. It looks a little smaller than usual, but his books and his laptop are still inside. He probably just ran out to run some silly errand for you, determined to make up for worrying you so much. Yeah.

You force your hunter’s paranoia down to a simmer, padding over to your breakfast table. There’s a big ol’ note smack dab in the center of it, perched on his half-open duffle bag, and you start to play with one of the bracelets Sam left behind as you pick it up.

You cross your fingers, smiling ear-to-ear. “C’mon. All bets on breakfast. Please be getting me breakfast, please be getting me breakfast—”

…That’s not what the note says.

You read it.

Then you read it again, and the hammer falls, crushing the breath out of you and doubling you over the kitchen table. You read the note for the third time, needing to be sure, and the thin sliver of hope you had—maybe you’d just read it wrong, m-maybe he was fine—turns to ash. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t.

You’re fighting back a surge of ugly, choking tears in an instant. He’s… Sam… he…

Your whole apartment lingers with the heat and goodness of him, like he’d been here just minutes ago. Just seconds. Even your clothes still smell like Sam. Just inhaling it tears chunks out of your reason, like—like you’d just missed him. Clawing around for something to do, you pace in a daze between your bedroom and the front door, desperate to recreate the moment you realized he was gone. You’re still just in the Stanford sweater and your underwear, but you don’t give a single shit and go careening out into the hall, stalking up and down your floor for him—because, b-because Sam wouldn’t, he wouldn’t do that to you—he would tell you first, he would never leave you in the dark like this—

…But you know Sam. And if it meant fixing his mistakes, saving you, saving everyone… Then he’d say yes in a heartbeat.

“These belong to you. You deserve a world to live in. I’m sorry - Sam.”

- tags: @samssluttybangs @cookiemumster1@lacilou@cevans-winchester @leigh70@ seraphimluxe @emily-roberts @emme-looou @aloneatpeace @williamstop @ornella0910 @chaoticshepardplaid @dakota-dream @lcvecstiel @goghkiss @spnexploration @stoneyggirl2 @urm0mmmbbg @mulattomoon @poeticsorcery @deansapplepie @rennydenny @babydollfoster @badlandsbrunette @hallecarey1

[donelywell]

This is just a summary of how the story goes, kinda like bullet points I guess. If the time ever comes that this eventually gets written as an actual story, It would be a lot more detailed than this. Also, I don't own Sonic Unleashed or think the story is bad (I actually really like it), this is just how a strange person (me) would handle the story in their own fan universe thing.

DEATH EGG October 1

Tails helps Sonic get up to the Death Egg.

Sonic storms the Death Egg, going Super.

Super Sonic follows Eggman, he begs for mercy, but it’s a trick.

Super Sonic gets the Chaos Emeralds ripped right out of him,

Eggman fires a beam filled with the Chaos Energy to the planet, cracking it into 7 pieces, releasing a Giant Monster, but it fades away.

Sonic turns into the Werehog, only barely hearing Eggman yell something about the Gaia Manuscripts through all of the intense pain that he’s going through, and is shot out of the Death Egg with the now drained Chaos Emeralds. Tails, on the Tornado-1, sees this happen, and chases after him.

APOTOS October 1

Sonic crashes into Apotos. He notices that there is a small being passed out near him, so he tries waking him up to see if he’s okay, this ends up scaring the kid for some reason. 

Sonic realizes he can’t talk for some reason, his throat feels off and his teeth feel weird, so he uses sign language to try asking if the kid is okay. The kid doesn’t understand, but assumes (probably not the smartest move) that he means no harm because his eyes seem genuinely worried, plus he’s slowly moving as though afraid to scare off the kid again.

The kid calls him ‘Mr. Monster Guy’, which makes Sonic realize he’s not his usual self. This mildly freaks him out, but he tries to act calm to not freak the small creature out. Using his claws, he writes in the dirt, which luckily the kid can read, and realizes the creature has amnesia. Sonic worries that he might have caused it, and vows to help him get his memories back. (Little Fella joined the party!)

Sonic looks at the rising sun, looking at it as something to lean on to stay optimistic, and turns back into his regular self. He finds his shoes and now drained Chaos Emeralds lying on the ground, and with a lot more pep in his step, holds onto the kid and races off to the closest city to hopefully get someone who recognizes the little creature (and see if Tails landed there after he launched Sonic into space).

>Windmill Isle Day Act 1 (plays as it normally would)

Sonic questions everything that just happened, the Chaos Emeralds being drained, the strange new form he took not even 15 minutes prior, what this ‘Gaia Manuscript’ is that Eggman was talking about; but he’s interrupted by the kid getting sidetracked from the memory treasure hunt with an ice cream stand that holds the famous Chocolate Chipped Cream Sundae Supreme! After a little begging, Sonic ends up paying for 2 cones. Sonic ends up calling the creature ‘Chip’ as a temporary nickname until they get his memories back, Chip absolutely loves it.

While they go around enjoying their ice cream and asking questions about Chip's past, Sonic ends up being given someone's pair of gloves.

Meanwhile, Tails is searching for Sonic, he’s surprised that his communicator is broken, or at least not responding, because it should have been able to survive a fall that high. He manages to get a rough estimate as to where he might be judging by where he fell, but Sonic could really be anywhere on this section of the planet with his speed.

Tails is highly concerned for Sonic’s health and safety since the last reading from the communicator reported that his heart rate has spiked dramatically right before he saw him fall from the sky.

>Windmill Isle Day Act 2 (You play as Tails as he flies around town, looking for Sonic)

As he still searches for Sonic as it’s heading into sunset, Tails gets a call from Knuckles telling him that something happened to the Master Emerald and that Angel Island has landed.

Tails tells him that he’s looking for Sonic at the moment, but promises to come over as soon as he can.

After the call is over, Tails realizes how long it’s been since he last ate and spots a local Gyro Food Truck. He ordered a bunch for Sonic to eat later if he spots him.

As the sun is setting, Sonic and Chip still haven’t found anyone who recognizes Chip. Sonic gives Chip a pep talk when he sees that the kid’s down in the dumps, suggesting that there are lots of areas around the world, maybe he’s just not from here. Right when Chip feels reassured, Sonic transforms back into the Werehog. Both are stunned and Sonic realizes that he changes into the form every night (Chip needs a moment to come to the same conclusion).

Chip immediately notices that the Sundae Stand Owner is acting strange, and asks him what’s wrong, even suggesting he eats some ice cream. Sonic shoves his now too-big-shoes into his quills until daytime. Chip accidentally drops the ice cream, but Sonic manages to catch it by stretching his arm out. Both are extremely surprised by this, kinda freaking Sonic out with how strange it feels but he thinks it’s kinda cool. Chip really likes the stripes.

Meanwhile, Tails finds himself in between a rock and a hard place. He’s surrounded by these strange enemies and forgot his weapon at the Tornado-1. He would normally spin dash into them, but judging by the sharp claws and spikes on them, his fur would not be enough defense from that hurting him more than it hurting them. 

He could have also flown away from danger, but he’s currently trying to protect a lost little girl he found surrounded by said enemies. He knows he doesn’t have enough time to drop his defenses and fly away while carrying her before they attack, so he just has to try keeping the already miniscule amount of ground they have.

While not looking, an enemy gets a lucky hit on him, causing him to yell out in pain. Despite the pain, he refuses to stand down and keeps defending the little girl.

With his new sensitive hearing, Sonic hears Tails’ yell. Instincts kick in, realizing his little brother is hurt, and runs after the sound. Chip, with his not as sensitive hearing, flies after Sonic in confusion.

>Windmill Isle Night Act 1 (plays as it normally would)

Once he makes it to Tails’ location, all of the enemies focus on the actual threat, Sonic. The little girl uses this to run back home, and Tails hides behind a wall holding his wound from bleeding too much.

The enemies are piling onto Sonic, so he unleashes all of the energy he’s built up (and some instincts he didn’t know he had), somehow becoming more powerful for a period of time, yet feeling a little high off the energy practically pouring out of each hit he makes in this unleashed state. 

Sonic Emotions Handling Scale: 

Normal form- Can hide it frustratingly well and has normal emotions, 

Werehog form- His face and new Wolf-like instincts make it hard for him to hide it but he still tends to try to push it off if he can + negative emotions are a lot more powerful + he’s a little clingy, 

Unleashed Boost- Can’t hide his emotions to save him and they are extremely powerful + easily goes into a downward spiral in emotions + somehow even more clingy + he still is super emotional when getting out of his Unleashed state and will do things without thinking.

After the fight is over, Tails calls out to Sonic, he knew from the moment Sonic stepped into the battle that it was him, Sonic practically raised him for almost half of his life, how could he not tell? Sonic however, getting out of his Unleashed Boost daze, realizes just how dangerous and brutal he could be in this form. So once he hears Tails’ call, he books it in fear of possibly being able to harm Tails unintentionally.

Chip finally makes it over to the aftermath, he and Tails do a quick introduction (like saying, you know Sonic? You're the brother he was talking about? yep, let's go!), and book it towards Sonic. Tails is surprised that he’s actually able to catch up to Sonic, even on all fours, Tails’ namesakes spinning can beat him in a race now.

Sonic manages to hide in a barrel, in abject terror of what he is. Tails and Chip quickly catch up and sit near the barrel, trying to calm Sonic down. Letting him know that no matter what he looks like, he’ll always be by his side and his little brother. He proceeds to go on about how looking different doesn’t make you a monster or evil, having his tails sway as he talks, as a subtle reminder to Sonic that he went through that fear of being different too.

Sonic slowly uncovers his muzzle to use his hands to sign that he’s a monster who could hurt Tails. Tails is surprised by how open Sonic is being so open about his fears, he normally tries hiding it as best he can so others don’t worry for him (a bad trait that Tails is extremely relieved didn’t seem to carry over when he’s in this form). Tails gives a sad look and recounts all of the times that Tails has accidentally hurt Sonic due to not being used to touch (and the several months it took him to learn how to retract his claws), but Sonic stuck around every time and didn’t blame Tails for it at all.

Tails suggests that he runs a vitals check on Sonic back at the Tornado-1, to see if he can find out what’s causing this form. (Tails joined the party!)

That, and the smell of several Gyros in Tails’ bag, seem to be enough to make Sonic slowly walk out of the barrel on all fours. Tails notices that Sonic’s stomach is rumbling and uses this to walk him over to the Tornado-1 without having his mind drift into negativity (wow, that’s odd, Sonic’s almost never openly negative). Chip finds out Gyros are really good, almost eating 3 before they make it back to the biplane.

After eating, Sonic stands up (and is actively trying to ignore the stomach churning feeling of being so incredibly huge compared to his little brother), to sign that he can’t retract his claws or speak properly. Tails tries to make the best of it and says that Sonic doesn’t need to touch anything for the check up.

As Tails is cleaning up and patching his wound with the first aid kit he has stored in the Tornado-1 (he wanted to immediately do the check up on Sonic, but the werehog refused to even start that until Tails took care of his cut first), Chip is in awe that Tails can understand what Sonic means just by looking at his hands. He really wants to learn how to do that, so he can talk to Sonic at any time of the day. Tails tries to recall that he might still have some flashcards he’d give to any new friends Sonic made when he couldn’t speak.

Now tired and worn out from a long day of running around town, eating tasty food, fighting enemies, and making discoveries, Tails and Sonic sit on a brick fence next to the Tornado-1 to run a Vitals Check.

It’s a symphony of yawns as Chips quickly falls asleep on Sonic’s leg. Tails, being exhausted, unconsciously rests his tails on Sonic's lap (a deep sign of trust) and leans on him as a pillow (he realizes the sheer amount of muscle behind the fur, theorizing that the expanse of his arms might have stretched the communicator too far, thus breaking it), like how he sometimes would do that when the brothers ride a train late at night after a long adventure. 

Sonic was in a half asleep state himself, but once he felt Tails’ tails rest on his lap, he perked right up. He’s surprised Tails can trust him so much even in this form, he thought this whole time that Tails was just bluffing it so Sonic would feel better. He might still be bluffing… using that 300 IQ brain to use this token trust sign to make Sonic relax. But Sonic quickly has exhaustion fog his brain again, letting this track of negative thoughts fizzle out at the moment.

With a yawn, Tails murmured that Sonic’s Vitals all seem normal, if not for a slightly higher than average Chaos Energy reading, but it’s not enough for it to change his form.

Tails is officially out, Sonic’s delicately soft fur and heart beat lulling him to sleep. Sonic, still not wanting to possibly harm anyone by accident, gently slips Chip off his leg, landing on his enormous paw (that’s another thing he feels off about, why are his hands so big?), and rests him on his head as he curls up as best he can without jostling Tails much. He tries his best to both find a comfortable position and keep his dangerous hands away from anyone. It’s a rough night, but they all got through it.

In the morning, Sonic transforms back to normal, with Tails handing him some spare gloves and a back-up communicator from the Tornado-1. After enjoying some Tarts for breakfast, they head out to Angel Island. Sonic accidentally falls asleep on the wing while Chip studies his flashcards in the back seat.

Angel Island

[prettyboypistol]

merc Valentine headcanons if you're up for it?

TF2 VALENTINES HEADCANONS!

no art for this post because I've posted 3 times todayyyy

Scout

ridiculously corny and a tryhard- you're getting the whole shebang with him! Flowers, dinner(?), a teddy bear!

gets really frustrated/anxious when things don't go exactly as planned

you thought his planned pick up lines were cheesy? just wait til you put him on the spot. You could probably quote them all from specific books of pick up lines.

Soldier

He'd make an honest effort to try and romance you- but nothing would really turn out as you would expect traditionally. With your luck, the date will be fighting a pack of bears for more of his honey stash!

In the end though, you can tell through Jane's actions that he loved you with all his heart. Even if the romance was a bust, he's still going to be your ride or die forever!

The day would end with you two covered in various ratios of blood and honey staring at the setting sun. So I guess that's a win?

Pyro

Doesn't really have a concept of Valentine's Day, but once explained to them, they are so on board with pampering you the entire day!

Of course, the way to make their day is to just relax by a bonfire and snuggle up next to a radio.

They give you one of your shirts back as a gift- only to see that they embroidered little rings of fire around the cuffs! (who let them touch needles????)

Engineer

definitely a lot more relaxed about valentines than most of the other more "passionate" mercs, but he's still earnestly sweet nonetheless.

His gift to you is a little music box he made and a rose he welded together out of sheet metal.

Dell probably had your gifts done ahead of time then subsequently forgot what day it was (you had to remind him of the dinner date that you two planned earlier that week)

Heavy

Mikhail lust loves kissing and loving on you, he will play coy about valentine's day until the evening, where he spoils you senseless.

Dinner and drinks get shared over a movie and cuddles. Nothing feels better than your big teddybear of a boyfriend and the smell of mulled wine as you laugh at some stupid movie you two are barely paying attention to.

Once you fall asleep in his arms he murmurs poetry to you in Russian, all of them written just for you.

Demoman

He... well, honestly, he kinda blows it.

He remembered the special day, but he's really just lackluster. Valentine's day is just another day to him and he thinks he doesn't need a specific day. When he realizes that you are hurt, he overhauls it in the next few days. He shows off the multimillions that he actually does make and pampers you rotten.

Apologies and kisses and wonderful dinners aside, Tavish holds you close and murmurs just about how much he loves you.

Medic

He trained his doves to do little tricks just for youuuuu awww

Remember that shitty ex you had? Yeah, that's their heart. Mhm. Yep. Go ahead. Stab it. :) (Gift giving, act of service, quality time)

Puts a record on and dances you around the medical room with little kisses and flirtatious lines of how cute you look when you're flustered and trying not to step on his feet.

Spy

Romance KING! The fright of commitment is still there and paralyzing at times, but he powered through it for you! After all, you see him at his worst every day and to see him, he is slightly more comfortable to be honest with you.

Roses and a bottle of wine are in your room, along with a card signed by "Your handsome rogue"

You two go to dinner and then to his smoking room to really relax, those parfaits were perfectly handmade just for you two.

Sniper

He invites you out to camp with you and hunt, but he really liked showing off his survival skills in front of you. You ever had gator?

Mick loves cooking in front of you and really putting on a show. It feels like the one time he can really accept praise is when you look in awe.

Everything is done for you whenever you try to do something. Making coffee? "Nah love, I'll get it." Your back hurt? "Lay down, chickadee, I'll give you a massage."

[steddiehyperfixation]

wishful thinking

@steddie-spooktober day 12: graveyard | 1,058 words | T | canon compliant

“Hey, Eddie. Sorry Dustin couldn’t be here, you’re stuck with me today,” Steve says as he crouches down in front of Eddie’s gravestone. “Hope that’s alright.” 

Dustin usually comes by about once a week to clean the hate speech off, but he’s on vacation with his family right now, so Steve took it on himself to take up the mantle this week. It’s covered in slurs this time, angry red spray paint scrawled over a headstone that wishfully asserts that Eddie is ‘finally at peace.’ Bullshit, that. The graffiti and the headstone. How can he be at peace when all those witch-hunting dickheads are still stomping all over his grave? “I guess we don’t really give you much peace either though,” Steve muses aloud. “The kids visit you so much. Your uncle too. Kind of crazy - for all the hate you got, you were loved just as much too. Don’t know if that makes you feel better or anything.”  

He sighs, dunking a rag in a bucket of soapy water and beginning to scrub the paint off the gravestone. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, it’s not like you can hear me, wherever you are,” he says, though he still continues to talk regardless. It gives him something to do while he works. “I know Dustin talks to you a lot too. He says when he does he almost feels like you’re actually here, like you’re listening to him, sitting with him. He says that he imagines you responding to him, swears up and down that sometimes he really does hear you answering. But I know it’s just his imagination, wishful thinking. I think he knows that too. He just misses you. You dying really hit him hard, you know.” 

For all the years of crazy Upside-Down shit they’ve been through, Dustin had never lost someone so close to him before. It hardened something in him, left a hollow behind his eyes and an anger and cynicism in them that hadn’t been there before. Steve worries about that kid now more than ever. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not really there, that you can’t see the way he’s changed,” he tells Eddie’s grave. “I think it would just depress you. It depresses me. But, I don’t know, sometimes when he talks about how he thinks he can feel your presence here some of that old hope and light returns to his eyes. So maybe it’d actually be better if you really were still hanging around, if it’s not just in his imagination.”

He shrugs. “And maybe you are. Who knows, the world we live in these days. It’d make sense, I guess, that your spirit or whatever might come back down here for Dustin. You guys had that, like, nerd bond. Not for me though.” He huffs out a dry laugh and re-wets his cleaning rag. “Either way, I’m still just an idiot talking to myself in a graveyard. There’s no reason you’d come here for me. It’s not like we were really friends. We barely knew each other, we just went through the week from hell together and then you died.” 

He frowns as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn line of graffiti and he falls briefly quiet, chewing at his lip. His silence is more pensive than focused, old thoughts now swirled up to the surface in his mind.

“I think we could’ve been, though,” he says after a moment, “friends, I mean. If I’d’ve gotten the chance to know you better. If we’d had more time. We- maybe we could’ve even-” Steve falters, unable to speak aloud what he’s really thinking, not while he’s scraping off slurs that might be hurled at him next if anyone heard. He can’t say that that moment in the stolen camper van when Eddie leaned into his space and called him ‘big boy’ had made something strange and new slither in his stomach and warm his blood. He can’t say how he wishes they could’ve gotten the chance to explore that, all the things it made him wonder about. Instead he settles on, “I think I could’ve learned a lot from you…”

If Steve really wanted to torture himself he’d give into his imagination, picture Eddie standing beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder and replying We could’ve, like he knows everything Steve’s not saying and feels the same. Steve can practically feel the touch, hear his voice, could just about convince himself of it if he was enough of a masochist to. He has to glance at his shoulder, has to put his own hand there just to check for sure, to remind himself that there’s no one there. It’s just wishful thinking. He shakes his head and returns his attention to the headstone. 

His throat feels tight. “You shouldn’t have died, man,” he mutters. “You just shouldn’t have. I told you- I told you 'don't try to be cute or be a hero,’ didn't I? But you did it anyways. You did anyways and now look at you. Being dead isn't cute, Eddie, it just isn't.” 

Steve's voice cracks, eyes stinging. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. He needs to pull himself together. He didn't come here to bare his soul to a chunk of stone for some guy he honestly didn't really know. What ifs don't mean shit to the dead; it's only the living they haunt. It’s only himself who’s here to hear it.

“Well,” he exhales heavily, swallowing down his emotion. He scrubs off the last remaining paint from the stone and sits back on his heels. “At least your grave is all shiny and clean now. That’s something, right? You’re welcome, by the way. My work here is done.” Collecting his cleaning supplies, he gets to his feet, hesitating for a second. Silly as it sounds, he feels like he should say some sort of goodbye before he heads off, like it would be rude not to. “I’ll, uh-” He pats the top of the gravestone, only a little awkwardly. “I’ll see you around, Munson.” 

As he turns to leave, Steve could almost swear this time he really does hear Eddie’s voice, a whispery echo following him from the graveyard. See ya, Stevie. Don't be a stranger.