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chuuyas--boo · 3 years ago

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Ghosts.

An: Read the tags before continuing. Block tags you're triggered by, and don't complain if YOU chose to keep reading and get bothered.

Jack giggled as Riley gently pushed her younger brother on the swing, hanging from a thick, strong tree branch. The two would often visit this area especially if their mother was drunk or high and could avoid being around her for a while. It was one of those times. Mrs. Morgan had started yelling at Riley, so Riley grabbed her younger brother and left.

Suddenly Jack dragged his feet on the ground, slowing the swing down until it stopped.

"Jack?...Jackie what's wrong?!"

Jack hopped off the swing and stood in front of Riley, smiling, but blood slowly ran down his face from a fatal gash in his head.

"Why? You said it wouldn't hurt...you said everything would stop hurting! So why does it still hurt? It hurts real bad Rie..."

Jack's emerald green eyes looked dead, clouded and empty, any innocence in his gaze had faded. It was just like an empty void.

Riley collapsed on her knees, tears started streaming down her face, sobs wracking her body violently. "I-I'm sorry! I'm so sorry Jack..." Riley choked on her words as her face heated up and tears ran down her face faster.

"Riley! Riley wake up!"

Riley woke up to Eddie gently shaking her. Tears started running down her face as she looked at him.

"H-hey what's wrong? Why're you crying?!" Eddie's pretty emerald green eyes gleamed with worry as the ginger girl started crying even harder.

Eddie's gaze softened and he hugged Riley "Did you have a nightmare?" Riley quietly nodded "I'm such a horrible person..." she hissed under her breath "No you're not! What's wrong...?" "I hurt Jack...and he said it hurt..." Eddie tilted his head but then remembered how Riley had a younger brother "Ah! You're not a horrible person just for that! You were helping him!" Riley just stared blankly at the floor "I said it wouldn't hurt...but he said it did...he was scared!" Eddie gently wiped the tears off her cheeks and hugged her again. "You're still not a horrible person, you're a very lovely girl, it was just a nightmare! I'm sure Jack's happy and safe~! You should hurry up and go downstairs though! There's pancakes and everyone's worrieddd"

Well...almost everyone.

Eddie got up and quietly left the room, shutting the door behind him. Riley glanced outside, the sun had already risen most of the way, but there were streaks of pink still in the sky, that looked almost like blood smears. Down on the ground, under the thick of the forest where sunlight barely reached, there were two pale, misty figures, one looked like a woman in a wedding dress and the other looked sickeningly similar to Jack. After changing into a gray t-shirt, shorts, brushing her hair, and putting it into a ponytail, Riley ran downstairs, past the kitchen, to where the burlap masks, gloves, and boots were kept. She quickly put her boots on and ran outside. "Rie-Rieeee! Aren't you gonna eat?!" Riley glanced back, stopping at the door. "Not hungry!" and then ran off into the forest, not paying any attention to the outdoor animals, she had to see if she truly saw ghosts or if it was just her imagination.

***

Riley stood in the forest, heart pounding, feeling like giving up. "It was just my imagination..."

Something quickly darted past, catching Riley's gaze. "Something wrong sis? You look sad!"

Riley's heart dropped, she recognized that sweet, childish voice, but it almost sounded as if in pain now. She couldn't bring herself to say anything, but tears started to well in her eyes as she looked at the small ghostly figure.

"Don't cry! I'm safe...since you killed me...!"

Riley's gaze fell to the ground as the small ghostly figure got closer to her "You're scary Rie...it really hurt! And you said it wouldn't..."

"Jack...I'm sorry..."

"Are you really? If you were you wouldn't have killed anyone else. If you really were sorry you'd have learned from what you did to me."

"B-but you asked me to! You told me to!"

Jack's once pretty, innocent eyes looked cold, and empty in death, though still innocent.

Jack quietly glanced back, looking at the other ghostly figure, which appeared to be a woman in a wedding dress, as if getting married. Riley's gaze followed Jack's glance.

After a few moments of silence, both of the pale, ghostly figures disappeared. Riley sighed deeply and then sat against a tree silently.

***

"Riley! ...Rileyyyyy....!" Riley's gaze jerked towards where she heard Albert's voice nearby, she'd been sitting under the tree for a while, watching random bugs and butterflies. She got up and ran over. "Al!" "What're you doing out here-?" "O-oh! Umm, nothing!"

Albert's ivy green gaze met Riley's mismatched gaze "What were you actually doing? You've been out here for over an hour."

Riley wiggled her foot in the dirt, staring at the ground.

"Look at me." Albert's voice was firm but also somehow soft, knowing Riley'd flinch if he raised his voice, he kept it somewhat calm and quiet, though worried.

Riley glanced up at him nervously, fiddling with her fingers.

"H-hey! Don't look so scared! Just tell me what you were doing.." "Ghosts." That single word sent a shiver down Albert's spine "What..?" "Ghosts," Riley repeated, not saying anything else.

"I'm gonna need you to elaborate, Riley."

"My brother and some woman..."

Albert sighed. "let's go back"

The two of them walked back to the house in silence.

***

"Where have you been?"

Riley ignored the question, not caring since it was Henry who asked.

"Answer me bitch."

Riley stopped and silently glared at him. "I was outside, mind your own business.."

And with that, Riley went to her room. Taking her boots off, Riley sat by the window and watched the branches and leaves dance in the wind outside.

"RILEY ELIZABETH MORGAN GET DOWN HERE!"

Riley felt her heart drop, suddenly scared.

"C-coming...!"

She got up and quickly ran downstairs.

Eddie and George were playing with one of the dogs, Carl was in his room playing video games, and Albert was watching tv.

Riley hesitantly walked into the kitchen and immediately cringed at the strong stench of alcohol, she was used to it but it's not the most pleasant thing.

"Listen here you little bitch, you can respect me or leave. Don't ever ignore me again, I'll beat your ugly little ass"

"I-Im sorry..."

"SORRY DOESN'T FIX SHIT! AND DON'T INTERFERE WITH THE TRADITION-"

"Again with the tradition shit..?" Riley hissed under her breath.

"SHUT UP YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND HOW IMPORTANT IT IS!"

Riley's hands slowly balled into fists as she looked at the man infront of her, refraining from yelling so to avoid drawing any attention to herself. It was too late to avoid drawing any attention to her, both Eddie and Albert stopped what they were doing and their gazes were filed in the direction of the kitchen.

"A stupid tradition shouldn't be put before the well being and mental health of YOUR FUCKING FAMILY"

Henry's drunken glare was piercing as he glared at Riley.

"Don't have anything to say because I'm right."

Without any sort of warning, Henry smacks Riley, hard.

Albert heard Riley's wince, hesitating, not wanting to get involved, but at the same time not wanting her to get hurt. Albert's hesitation was longer than he thought, both Eddie and George had already gotten up and ran into the kitchen after hesitating as well.

***

When Albert had gotten up and ran into the kitchen, Riley was standing with one hand over her nose, blood trickling down her face and tears in her eyes.

"D-dad stop! She's crying!"

Riley shot George an icy glare as it telling him not to bother.

"Well she can fucking cry! She's a pussy and needs to learn when to keep her mouth shut!"

Whatever was keeping Riley from yelling again snapped. "YOU'RE THE PUSSY! YOU'RE THE ONE WHO CAN'T DO ANYTHING AND HAS TO FORCE HIS CHILDREN TO DO SHIT AT AN AGE WHERE THEY SHOULDN'T BE SEEING DEAD BODIES! THEY SHOULDN'T HAVE TO SEE THEM AT ALL BUT YOU'RE TOO STUPID AND SELF-CENTERED TO CARE ABOUT ANYONE OR ANYTHING BESIDES YOURSELF AND SOME STUPID FUCKING TRADITION YOU COULD'VE FUCKING MADE UP! AND YOU WONDER WHY WE ALL FUCKING HATE YOU!"

Everyone's gaze was fixed on Riley, Carl had come downstairs to see what was happening, all the brothers stared at Riley in shock. Riley stood there breathing heavily, she had moved her hand away from her face, letting blood run down her face faster and off of her hand, her breath hitched as she stared at Henry.

"Get the fuck out. NOW-"

Riley didn't need to be told twice, she ran outside. Albert ran after her "Riley!"

Riley glanced back at him, "What?" Her tone sounded weirdly pissed off still, which was shocking, she never used that tone towards Albert, but her eyes looked apologetic.

"What did he do to you?"

"Nothing. I'm fine, it's nothing to worry about."

That was obviously a lie, her nose was bleeding heavily, lip was busted, has some bruises on her arms and a dark red mark on her cheek.

"You're obviously not fine"

Riley sighed "I'm fine, I've been through worse, it doesn't even hurt"

Albert's gaze filled with doubt, as he gently touched one of the bruises and Riley flinched.

"So you're fine huh?"

Riley let out a huff of slight annoyance. "Yes Al, I'm fine"

"Shut up and let's get you bandaged up"

***

Days had passed, Riley refused to eat and when she did she'd immediately go make herself throw up, when anyone would ask her if she's okay or of something's wrong shed just say "I'm fine", or "Nope. Nothing's wrong".

Those several days, Albert would check on her before he went to bed to ask her if she was going to sleep as well, which she always replied "Yes" even though she didn't, she stayed awake and watched out the window watching the ghostly figures, sometimes going outside to walk around in the forest.

Eventually she gave up and decided to sleep in Albert's room, the two of them cuddled until Riley fell asleep.

#death ment tw #Murder tw #Oc: Riley Morgan #Oc: Jack Morgan #Oc: Ghost Bride #Edward Mason #Carl Mason #George Mason #Albert Mason #Angels of Death #Angels of Death oc #AU #Abuse tw #Eating disorder tw

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madd-information · 4 years ago

Note

Would you mind telling me all the terms (para, parame, etc) associated with MaDD and Immersive Daydreaming? Thank you :’)

Acronyms AU Alternate Universe OC Original Character

DD Daydream

ICMDR International Consortium for Maladaptive Daydreaming Research

IM/IMer Immersive Daydreaming (sometimes seen as ID)

MaDD/Madder Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder (this is a Tumblr tag which people sometimes use in place of ‘MD’)

MD/MDer Maladaptive Daydreaming

MDS Maladaptive Daydreaming Scale Terms

[Daydream] Block (citation needed)Term adapted from ‘writers block’. A temporary state during which the MDer experiences an inability to create or proceed with their fantasy plot, sometimes resulting in a distressing failure to immerse themselves in daydreaming as they are accustomed to.

[Daydream] Binge An occasion when an activity is done in an extreme way.

[Daydream] Crash (source) When a person comes down from their daydream world or escapism and reality hits them. Alternatively, when daydreams no longer have the same effect they used to, and the MDer has to prolong that good feeling by revisiting their escapism or face negative experiences associated with facing reality.

Coping Skill/Strategy/Mechanism (source) To invest one’s own conscious effort to solve personal and interpersonal problems, in order to try to master, minimize or tolerate stress and conflict. Can be adaptive or maladaptive.

Faceclaim (source) A term used in role play games to describe a person used for the physical description of a character. Some MDers note that they used the faces of TV characters, actors or public figures to create their fantasies.

Distress (source) Occurs when we have excessive adaptive demands placed upon us; the demands upon us are so great that they lead to bodily and mental damage. Distress is damaging, excessive or pathogenic (disease producing) stress. Required for a ‘diagnosis’ of MD.

Idealized-Self (source) An Idealized version of yourself created out of what you have learned from your life experiences, the demands of society, and what you admire in your role models.

International Consortium for Maladaptive Daydreaming Research (source) Website designed to promote scientific knowledge on MD by fostering studies on the developmental trajectories, phenomenology, psychopathology, brain function and treatment of MD. Also to understand the trait of immersive daydreaming, the non-pathological form of absorptive daydreaming, and its psychological and brain features.

Immersive Daydreaming (source) Fantasizing in a state of dissociative absorption, which is not inherently disordered or maladaptive. MD represents a subset of Immersive Daydreaming.

Kinesthetic Activity/Repetitive Movement (source) Movement which stimulates or prolongs an MDer’s fantasy state.

[Daydream] ]Loop (citation needed) Experience of becoming trapped within a daydream scene which repeats itself over and over again in a cyclic loop for an extended period of time, causing frustration to the daydreamer.

Maladaptive Daydreaming (source) Extensive fantasy activity that replaces human interaction and/or interferes with academic, interpersonal, or vocational functioning.

Maladaptive [Behavior] (source) Actions or tendencies that don't allow an individual to adjust well to certain situations. Typically disruptive and dysfunctional behaviors can range from mild to severe in scope, used as a means of reducing mental discomfort and anxiety but are not effective and can sometimes make it worse.

Pace/Pacer (source) Walk at a steady and consistent speed, especially back and forth and as an expression of one's anxiety or annoyance. Most common movement among MDers, other movements include jumping, swinging, hand movements etc. See also kinesthetic movement, stereotypic movement.

Para (source) Any character in a paracosm, typically one the MDer has a strong attachment to. (Tumblr coined)

Paracosm (source) A detailed imaginary world, often originating in childhood.

Parame (source) The character one MDs as. May or may not also be the paraself. (Tumblr coined)

Para(girlfriend/husband/brother/mother etc) (source)The girlfriend/husband/brother/mother etc of ones parame. (Tumblr coined)

Paraself (source) The daydream version of the MDer’s self. (Tumblr coined)

Somer, Eli (source) The clinical psychologist who discovered MD and coined the term “maladaptive daydreaming”, director of the ICMDR.

#maladaptive daydreaming #actuallymadd

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lothloriien · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 12,508 times in 2021

548 posts created (4%)

11960 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 21.8 posts.

I added 528 tags in 2021

#pirate ramblings - 241 posts

#w tag - 56 posts

#save - 55 posts

#save tag - 37 posts

#ask - 29 posts

#tagged - 28 posts

#tag game - 27 posts

#islam - 23 posts

#lord of the rings - 17 posts

#muslims on tumblr - 15 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#and when you only bring that up to remind poorer people that richer people who aren’t billionaires aren’t the enemy then you’re classist

My Top Posts in 2021

one day i'll have a group of friends that also romanticize everything, and appreciate art and literature and architecture and aesthetic appeal, and take candid photos of each other and go on picnics and walks in the wood and appreciate each others music and value kindness and peace. friends who care about me the way i care about them. maybe not now, but one day

640 notes • Posted 2021-04-17 04:13:25 GMT

im in love with the way eowyn is written. she's cold, but not in a way that makes her emotionless and fearless, but the kind of cold that comes from having to fend for yourself when you should have others to rely on. eomer and theoden were great men, but they were warriors, and could not be there for her the way she needed. and then of course, aragorn came along, and her love for him made her even worse (eomer said that she was fine until she loved him), which is another thing i find poetic. her love for aragorn made her colder, whether it was because he did not love her back or because he was too much like her brother and uncle. but her love for faramir thawed her and warmed her, because although he was capable of deeds just as valiant and heroic as aragorn, he preferred the life of learning and love and warmth to the life of war and strategy. and that says a lot about lord of the rings: the cure to sadness is not hope, but warmth.

711 notes • Posted 2021-04-25 02:00:16 GMT

reblog if you support muslims

i just. i really need to know right now. there’s so much hate in the world, i need to know who’s safe. also if you can’t reblog this feel free to block me <3 i hope i never interact with you ever in my life

2713 notes • Posted 2021-04-03 05:08:14 GMT

Hey I saw your tips for drawing muslims but do you have any for writing them?

hello hello, thanks for the ask!

WRITING MUSLIM CHARACTERS

stereotypes to avoid

– the “oppressed hijabi” trope

listen, most of us wear hijab because we want to. because we grew up around it. because it’s as natural as wearing a shirt. please stop acting as though we all despise our hijab and our religion

– the “misunderstanding parents” trope

why are all muslim parents emotionally or physically abusive in fiction? i personally have an amazing relationship with my parents. also not all muslim parents are trying to suck the joy out of their children’s lives. they’re just trying to keep their kids safe. also this trope usually gets pretty racist because the reason they don’t understand their child is because they’re “not from here” and “don’t get how things are done” so yknow, avoid that.

– the “abusive dad” trope

listen. i’m fully aware that abusive parents are horrible and something that people should be made aware of, but when every muslim dad in fiction is abusive, that’s just islamophobia. just. give us good relationships with our family!!!

– the “silent mom” trope

how come muslim mothers in fiction have no lines? have no voice? they’re just silent products of a household there to cook and clean. what is that all about?? please. just stop

– the “White Boy Romance” trope

oh, all muslims know where i’m going with this Do. Not. Have. A. Hijabi. Take. Off. Her. Hijab. For. A. White. Boy. please. don’t have her take it off, period. but especially not for romance. actually, if your narrative involves a muslim girl stepping away from her religion and taking off her hijab and realizing she’s happier this way, throw the whole story away. i’m sorry, but if you’re not muslim, this isn’t something for you to write about. this is not your story to write, and writing it will be extremely islamophobic. avoid a typical romance. muslim romances do not occur the way western romances do. either you gotta be okay with that and write it properly, or you should do your best to avoid it altogether.

THINGS TO DO

– let them have friends!! let them have muslim friends!! especially if they live in an area that has a high muslim population.

– let them talk about things that aren’t their religion. listen, my muslim friends and i talk about religion occasionally, but i can assure you, more of our conversation revolves around the hot boy of the week or about whatever shows we’re watching. and in terms of non-muslim friends, religion isn’t a point of tension. we respect and celebrate our differences, and that’s it. we talk about it sometimes, but we don’t argue about it

– make it clear that we’re muslim without just saying it. have us take a step aside to pray. have a character compliment our hijabs. have us fast in ramadan (or make up fasts in the winter). have us eat halal meat. say bismillah before we eat. say alhamdulillah after sneezing or when we’re thankful. subhanallah when we see something beautiful

– we’re not nuns. we find people attractive. we discuss it. it’s not a big deal

– make sure we have a personality that doesn’t revolve around our religion. yes, our religion can be a huge aspect of our identity and life, but no, it’s not the only thing. make them obsessed with a show. give them nervous habits. what do they collect? are they introverted? you tell me!

– avoid intimately close friendships with the opposite gender. casual acquaintances is fine, but this is something i would personally avoid writing if possible

– research what is haram. i’ll give you a basic list:

- pork

- meat that isn’t halal

- gelatin (unless it’s plant gelatin or from a halal store)

- missing prayers

- sex before or outside of marriage

- cheating in any way

- abuse towards your family (yes, this may come as a shock to some, but it’s actually prohibited by islam)

- drinking

- drugs

do more research, of course, but this is a basic list.

i think that about covers it: don’t stereotype us, make sure it’s noticeable that we’re muslims, give us personalities, and make sure we’re avoiding haram stuff

before anyone comes at me: i’m aware that there are muslims who don’t follow the rules and who do haram things and who don’t like their religion and don’t have stable family relationships etc, etc. BUT when that is our only representation in media, it’s islamophobic. show us good muslims, who like their religion, whose religion is their identity, who don’t feel like their religion is causing them to lose out. because we exist.

3539 notes • Posted 2021-05-04 15:34:06 GMT

if you don’t get to strap a knife to your thigh underneath a flowing ballgown while dancing with your rival at least once then what is the point

5359 notes • Posted 2021-03-28 01:30:49 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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httpjeon · 6 years ago

Text

❝ blowing dandelions ❞ pjm ― m.

― summary:

as a child, you met park jimin. as an adult, the same jimin is much different.

badboy!jimin/reader | e2l, childhood friends | angst, fluff, smut | 7.8k ↬ content warnings: blowjob, deepthroating/facefucking, pet names, praise kink, dirty talk, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, light pain kink, mentions of death (no one major), mean!jimin, crying, fighting, light physical abuse(he like shakes u), jimin gets in a fight, tae tries to keep the peace

a/n: it’s kind of long im sorry. also this is from a fic title game i played ages ago!

→ blog masterlist

You always think back to the summer when you were 10. It was a time where you held some of your best memories, a truly tranquil and happy time of your life. It had been the first time you left your home in Seoul to see the ocean. You and your family had rented a little home near the beach and you could always remember how much fun you had when your feet touched the ocean for the first time.

The fondest part was when you had met a little boy, his name was Jimin. You remembered his chubby cheeks and endearing smile; he was happy and bright and it was truly contagious. He lived in Busan, in fact, he lived near the ocean and since it was summer, he had all the time in the world to play in the sand.

“I’m here with my Mama!” He had declared oh so proudly while drawing nonsensical things in the sand.

It didn’t take you very long after meeting Jimin to learn his mother was his whole world, he went on and on about how much he loved her. He had told you, a sad smile on his face, that he didn’t have a dad around. It was just him and ‘Mama’.

Somewhere along the way, you found yourself developing a crush on the bubbly boy. Every morning he would come to the house, ringing the doorbell and asking if you were awake because he wanted to play. Your mothers would sit on the porch chatting and laughing while watching the two of you run around and laugh.

You taught him how to make flower crowns as well. There was a little patch of wildflowers you two had discovered one day and as Jimin watched you weave the flowers together he had begged you to teach him how to. At that age, you didn't know much about flower arranging and truthfully it didn't turn out very pretty. It was a mixture of small flower-like weeds and dandelions. His fingers shook slightly as his tongue was poked out in concentration.

You found yourself watching him with a huge grin on your face and your cheeks burning with the realization that you found him cute.

One particular evening, there were fireworks being set off and you and Jimin spent the entire day preparing to watch them. You had set out blankets and towels, even asking your mothers to prepare a little picnic for you -- which they readily agreed to.

So during that night, as you and Jimin watched the night sky explode in an array of colors that reflected off the ocean, you were happy. Small fingers intertwined together and shy eyes met; he was your first crush and you couldn't even find it in yourself to be embarrassed. Jimin had a certain quality about him that made you confident, you knew he wouldn't ever judge you.

Jimin was your first kiss -- at the tender age of 10 it was nothing but a little peck but it was meaningful.

As an adult, you still held to it than that soft boy from Busan that you spent 3 fateful summer months with was your first crush, first kiss, and first love.

Busan held a special place in your heart and you hadn't been able to return to the sea-side city since those days. So when you had the opportunity, you decided to apply to college there. You were eager to see the ocean again and also to escape the city of Seoul that you'd spent your whole life in.

Saying goodbye to your family was sad, heartbreaking even, but with your pet cat in his carrier and boxes of your belongings packed in the trunk...you felt ready.

The apartment you got wasn't spectacular by any means -- one bedroom and one bath. The kitchen was small and conjoined with the living room and there wasn't a designated space for eating. Still, you spent days decorating it until it was up to your tastes.

The apartment was near the place you stayed at that summer -- so when you walked outside you could smell the salt of the sea in the air. As a student away from home, your school helped you in getting a job -- coincidentally at a flower shop. It was fitting considering your major being in plant sciences.

In order to work full time, you mainly attended online courses while having to go on campus to take your exams.

You were happy.

You were working at the flower shop, Sweet Arrangements it was called, for a few months before you met Kim Taehyung. He had practically skipped his way into the shop, boxy smile and messy hair.

"Hey, you have Tulips by chance?" He asked and you noticed that his shirt was sticking to his chest with sweat.

"Yeah, you need them arranged?" You asked, resting your elbow on the desk with your chin in your hand.

"No, no I just need a couple alone," He responded, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets.

"They're right over there, we have a few selections for you to choose from," He followed your pointing finger, and scampered over to the corner where he squatted and began to pick a few of his chosen flowers.

"Alright," He breathes, placing a bunch on the table in front of you. With practiced ease, you clipped the stems a bit and wrapped them so they were bunched together. His dark eyes made you feel a little nervous for some reason, and you found yourself exhaling slowly to ease your racing heart. He was a very attractive man and there was no way you could deny that.

"That'll be ₩27,000,"

Flashing a smile, you took his money and wished him a nice day as he booked it out of the shop. You briefly wondered why he was in such a rush -- perhaps he forgot an important date for a girlfriend or boyfriend.

With that, it didn't take you long to realize how often Taehyung needed flowers. He would come in at least once a week asking for the same thing; simple tulips. You never asked why he wanted them until what felt like his 1000th visit.

"So, tell me why you always buy this specifically," You asked one day while you were cutting the stems for him.

"Oh, well, I actually put them on a grave," He said, smiling softly. "She really liked tulips,"

"Your mother?" You asked, immediately feeling bad for asking before shaking your head. "That was insensitive, I'm sorry,"

"No it's alright," He smiled, taking the flowers from your hands. "It's something like that. She was like a mother to me,"

"I see, well, I think it's very sweet of you to do this so much," The two of you fell into a weird silence, just sharing a strange atmosphere.

"Hey, I...I wanted to know since you moved here if you've had time to make any friends?" His sudden question shocked you, and you blinked, adjusting your position to shove your hands in your apron pockets.

"Not particularly, I mostly just work and go home," You responded, shrugging your shoulders.

"Well, I think that we'd get along really well and...you're pretty nice so...if you'd like, some friends and I are going out for dinner tonight if you want to tag along," He seemed quite sheepish as he spoke, scratching the back of his hand and biting his lip.

"Well, I get off work at 7," Your response seemed to shock him, his eyes snapping up to meet yours in wide surprise.

"That's perfect!" He grinned, a boxy bright smile. "I'll come by to pick you up and walk you there!"

You didn't get to say another word as he turned on his heel, running out the door with a final jingle of the bell. You watched him out the window, running down the street until he disappeared from sight.

The sun was setting when you stepped out from behind the counter, untying your work apron to hang on the hook for Monday. You felt your shoulders relax at the idea that you had two days off from work.

"I'll see you Monday, Kyungok!" You called the owner, who was watering the plants. She grinned, waving and giving you a small 'see you' before you stepped out the door.

"Oh, right on time!" Following the deep voice, you were met with Taehyung's boxy grin."Come on, the wing place is just a few blocks,"

As you walked, you asked Taehyung what his friends were like. You were a little nervous, it was always anxiety-inducing when you were meeting an already established group of friends.

"They're a good bunch of guys," He told you, a proud smile on his face. "Jin is the oldest and he kind of looks after us and makes sure we don't get into trouble, he also acts like the youngest sometimes. Yoongi is quiet but he seems cold but he's the quiet kind of kind but when he's drunk...he's loud, it's really fun. Hoseok is really loud and really bright, he laughs a lot and he's just really happy. Namjoon is kind of the one who we all really go to for everything, he's our confidant and he keeps everyone mellow -- really smart guy too. Jungkook is the youngest in our group and he's kind of a crackhead, he does a lot of stupid shit and usually is the reason for Jin's rage," He paused for a moment, seeming to think about something. "The last is Jimin, I'm not sure if he'll show up...he's kind of hit or miss. He's...how do I put it? He's kind of a troubled guy, he's got a pretty nasty temper and he's kind of cold but I've known him since we were kids so he's my best friend, to be honest. But on his good days he's really nice and he honestly really cares for us and always makes sure we're doing well,"

"They sound nice," You replied easily, though feeling a little more anxious after hearing of Jimin's mean tendencies.

"Here we are," You found yourself standing in front of a little out-of-the-way restaurant. There were only a few groups of people inside that you could see and as Taehyung opened the door, there was a loud cheer from a particular group of boys.

"Tae!" They called as Taehyung escorted you over.

"Guys, this is _____, she works at the flower shop!" He introduced, which resulted in several greetings and introductions.

Seokjin was a man with a beautifully sculpted face and wide shoulders. Yoongi was a small, pale guy with sharp eyes and blonde hair hanging in his face. Hoseok had the brightest smile you had ever seen and he greeted you with a warm hug (much to your shock). Namjoon wore circle lens glasses and was dressed immaculately, showing you a pretty dimpled smile. Jungkook had an adorable bunny smile that contradicted his muscular, tall build and all black clothing. Finally, Jimin who merely flicked a bored gaze to you before taking a sip of his drink.

It didn't take long before you were familiar with all the boys and even added to their group chat on your phone. It was almost startling how well you got along with them, making each other laugh and having dinner with them almost every Friday night.

The first time you witnessed Jimin's temper, however, you were sure that all the boys would never want to see you again. That you'd be cast out for making him upset like that and causing an argument between the group and Jimin.

Hoseok picked you up from the flower shop on a Friday, but instead of going to a restaurant, you were taken to an apartment complex.

"We're heading to Jimin's," Hoseok explained, a little bounce in his step and a serene smile on his face.

"Really? For what?" You were surprised, you hadn't been to Jimin's place before.

"I don't know really, Taehyung just told me to bring you here instead of the wing place," Hoseok explained, exiting the elevator onto the 5th floor which was apparently where Jimin lived.

Room 510, you remember the number being. After several knocks, the door was opened by Namjoon who grinned at the two of you -- even placing a kind hand on your head in greeting.

"Hey, you!" Taehyung called happily, coming down the stairs with a smile on his face.

"Why am I here?" You asked, taking a seat on the offered couch beside Jungkook, who was playing a video game. He still took a moment to smile and say hello when you sat down.

"Jin's cooking tonight and I thought it'd be great for you to taste some of his delicious food," Taehyung explained, dropping down onto the loveseat where Hoseok had taken a seat. Namjoon disappeared into the kitchen to presumably help Jin cook, Jungkook played video games, and Yoongi was curled up on a recliner watching something on his phone.

"That sounds lovely," You breathed, relaxing in your seat to watch Jungkook murk a bunch of zombies.

You didn't get to watch him for very long before Jin and Namjoon were setting the table with a delicious pot of shrimp fettuccine alfredo that smelled absolutely divine. Jin greeted you happily, cracking an unnecessary joke that had Yoongi groaning and Hoseok cracking up.

"Jimin, come down for dinner!" Jungkook shouted up the stairs after pausing the game while everyone else took a seat.

Heavy footsteps followed, though you were more interested in the steaming, delicious food Jin was piling into pristine white bowls. Your mouth was actually watering, it smelled divine and you didn't hesitate to tell Jin so, earning you the nicest hug and thank you from the man you'd ever received.

You learned quickly they greatly appreciated having a girl in their midst, not because they could flirt or date you -- but because you offered a nice sweetness and lightness with your femininity to the group that was otherwise missing.

The peaceful atmosphere was rudely disrupted by a harsh voice spewing curse words.

"What the fuck?" All heads snapped to the foot of the stairs where Jimin was standing with fists clenched at his sides. "Why the fuck is she here?"

"Oh Jimin," Jin greeted, completely disregarding Jimin's words to greet him.

"I asked a fucking question, I didn't invite her," His voice was so low, it was almost a growl and his chest was rising and falling rapidly.

"I invited her!" Taehyung chirped, completely unbothered by Jimin's growing temper.

"Why the fuck would you do that?! I don't want her here!" Jimin snapped, making you jump.

"She's our friend, Jimin," Yoongi spoke up, mouth full of pasta.

You were feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the way you were being talked about -- like you weren't here on top of his nasty words.

"Jimin, come on, just sit down," Hoseok sighed, frowning but looking quite concerned on top of that. "We all want her here, so let's just have a nice dinner,"

"Shut up, Hoseok," Jimin snapped, making the older man stiffen beside you.

"Watch it, Jimin," Hoseok warned, narrowing his eyes as he obviously tried to keep himself calm.

"I want you out," Jimin snarled, finally addressing you directly.

His tone of voice had you scrambling to your feet, accidentally knocking over an empty glass. With trembling hands, you picked it up and scampered back over to where you had kicked your shoes off.

"No, ____, don't leave!" Jungkook stood up, whining at you.

"Go, _____!" Jimin snapped, making you jump in surprise at his volume.

"I-I'll just head home," You muttered out, nearly stumbling in your haste to get your shoes on.

Before you shut the door, you caught sight of the boys frowns, watching you leave. You tried to offer a smile, but you're sure it didn't meet your eyes judging by the way Taehyung's shoulders slumped before the finalizing click of the door closing.

While you received apologies from the other boys, you didn't hear anything from Jimin. In fact, the next time you saw him, he completely ignored you. He showed no sympathy or any sign that he felt bad for kicking you out that night which only planted a seed in your head telling you he hated you.

Still, you were pleasantly surprised to be invited out once more after that horrible dinner night. From then on, you rarely ever went to Jimin's place -- just because you didn't know if it was a bad night or he really didn't want you around. You felt as if you were walking on eggshells around him, he made you quite nervous to accidentally step out of line.

You eventually decided to forgive and forget. You couldn't let someone's bad mood ruin good times that you could be having with your friends.

One day, you were asked to meet at your usual wing place by Namjoon. It was a bit unusual because you truly didn't hang out with Namjoon alone often, he was usually just an integral part of the group.

"So we're holding a little...get together," The way Namjoon attempted to ease you into it immediately had you on edge.

"...What are you planning?" You squinted suspiciously at him.

"I know you don't want to go to Jimin's after last time, but the party is at his place," Namjoon explained and you sighed, but before you could say anything he stopped you. "We already spoke to Jimin and we said if you weren't invited then we wouldn't have the party so he agreed!"

"He agreed to let me inside his house?" You asked, receiving a nod. "For the party?" Another nod.

"So you'll come right?" He asked, gazing at you over the rims of his glasses.

"Fine, I'll come," You sighed before immediately being brought into a bone-crushing hug.

"They'll be very happy to hear it," Namjoon grinned, beautiful dimples and shining smile.

"I'm sure," Your reply was a little dry, but Namjoon continued to smile despite it.

The two of you continued with your small lunch and you learned the boys had drawn straws to see who would have to talk you into coming.

The party was hosted on a Friday night and when you entered Jimin's apartment, you noticed how much food and alcohol there was available.

By the time you had arrived, the party had already begun with you being the last to show. Jimin and Taehyung were on the couch, both of them nursing red solo cups filled with who-knows-what. Hoseok, Namjoon, and Yoongi were all standing around the entrance to the kitchen chatting amongst themselves. Finally, Seokjin and Jungkook were bickering over what to play on the stereo -- Jin wanted chill music and Jungkook wanted something to jam to.

"Hey guys," You greeted softly, earning all of their attention at once.

"_____!" Various cries of your name along with muddled greetings.

Before you knew it, you were pulled into the party. Jungkook ended up winning, so strong bass and beats flowed from the speakers. You sipped from the generously filled up of alcohol while picking at the bowl of chips in front of you.

It didn't take you long to realize they'd all been drinking much longer than you had because within an hour 5 of the 7 men present were passed out drunk. The last men standing were Taehyung, and Namjoon.

Jungkook and Seokjin had gotten into a drink-off with Jungkook winning because he ended up running off to puke while Jin quite literally dropped to the floor and was out like a light. Hoseok's cheeks had turned red several minutes before he curled up complaining that the room was spinning, before promptly passing out. And Yoongi, you weren't sure if he passed out or just went to sleep. Jimin, you were sure, had probably been drinking the longest out of all of them as he was the first one to tap out and fall asleep on the couch.

Taehyung and Namjoon were having a little conversation, thought you couldn't quite make out what they were saying through the giggles and slurred words.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," You mumbled, standing up and blinking several times as the room spun a bit.

Maybe you were drunker than you thought. Either way, that alcohol went right through you and you had to pee.

Scampering upstairs, you quietly slipped into the bathroom.

However, as you came back out, you couldn't help but notice Jimin's bedroom door was open. Maybe it was the alcohol flowing through your veins giving you courage or maybe it was just pure stupidity, but you slipped into his room.

The first thing you noticed was how lovely his room smelt, most likely due to the soft vanilla candle burning on his nightstand. His bed was unmade and a few articles of clothing were strewn about, including his favorite leather jacket laid across his bed.

However, the one thing that caught your attention was the big book labled photo album sitting on a shelf as if it were a shrine. You walked up to it and grabbed it, finding that there was absolutely no trace of dust on it -- it was either well used or well taken care of. Kind of strange for a photo album.

You took a seat on the edge of his bed with the album in your lap, flipping it open. The first page was a dedication page that simply said "Park Family".

Surely he wouldn't mind that much if you looked at it right? After all, it was just a family photo album. Plus this could be a great way to get to know more about him!

With that thought in mind, you began to flip through the pages. At first they were just old pictures, presumably his mother and father getting married. There were also some old highschool photos of his mother and father, and eventually you came across Jimin's baby photos. You smiled as you saw what a cute baby he was, chubby cheeks and all.

It wasn't until you got about 10 pages in that you began to notice something; Jimin looked awfully familiar as a child. As your suspicions rose, you continued to flip until you found the pictures of when Jimin was about 10.

He was on summer vacation at a beach and when you took note of a picture -- Jimin standing beside a young girl as both of them wore flower crowns made of yellow dandelions, two women stood behind them as they all smiled happily, you realized why he looked so familiar.

Fate had a funny way of playing games and for some reason she decided now was the time to start one.

Park Jimin, the bright boy who always had a smile on his face that you spent a wonderful summer watching fireworks reflect off the ocean; was the same Park Jimin who absolutely hated your very existence.

Part of you was thankful you made this discovery at that moment, because as soon as the puzzle pieces fell into place, a dark ominous voice came from the doorway.

"What the fuck are you doing?"

You nearly jumped out of your skin, turning your head to see Jimin standing there. He had his fists clenched at his sides and you swear you could see anger flashing in his eyes.

"J-Jimin--" Before you could explain yourself, Jimin was storming towards you and ripping the book from your hands.

"Who the fuck said you could go into my room?" He snapped, slamming the book closed but delicately placed it on the shelf as if he weren't even angry.

"I just...I thought..."

"You thought what?" He was growing angrier with every second that ticked by.

"I just wanted...to get to know you, but Jimin--" A harsh laugh cut you off, the man not giving you a second to get your complete thoughts out.

"Get to know me? What? So I could like you? Are you that desperate for people to like you that you have to be a little fucking creep and go through peoples shit?" He badgered you, asking questions that truly weren't meant to be answered. "I really don't see what they fucking like about you. You're a pest, you're nothing and I could go my whole life never seeing your pathetic face around me or my friends again,"

No matter how much his words cut you or how badly your eyes began to sting with tears, you still wanted to ask him one question.

"Where's your mom?"

He fell silent at that, staring down at where you still sat on his bed. Then, with terrifying stealth, he was in front of you. You could feel his breath fan your face from how close he was, his nose brushing yours and it could definitely be mistaken as him moving to kiss you if it weren't for the very apparent rage burning in his eyes.

"You..." He growled, his jaw clenching angrily. "You don't ever speak about my mother, do you understand?"

"But Jimin--" Again he cut you off, but this time he was violently grabbing you by the arm and hauling you to your feet.

You whimpered at his tight grip, reaching to push him away but his hold on you was much too strong. He was holding you by your upper arms and brought you close to him again.

"Do you," He breathed and you were sure you had never seen someone so angry. "understand me?"

When you failed to answer, he roughly shook you -- making you cry out. You couldn't understand how to boy you knew as a child could be this mean, cruel man.

"You're pathetic," He hissed, finally making the tears fall from your eyes. He simply laughed, finally releasing and stepping back. "Don't think crying is going to make me pity you,"

"J-Just listen, please," You choked out, sniffling softly when he scoffed.

"Get the fuck out of my home," He left no room for argument and you turned on your heel as fast as you could.

When you got downstairs, everyone but Taehyung was passed out. When he saw the tears falling down your cheeks and heard the little sobs come from your lips, he jumped up in surprise.

"______!"

"I'm leaving," You whispered, giving no other information as you grabbed your coat.

As you went to step out the door, he grabbed your arm -- where Jimin had been holding you earlier and you hissed. Taehyung quickly let go but didn't back off.

"What happened?"

"Don't worry about it, it was my fault," You whispered, stepping out and shutting the door behind you before Taehyung could say anything more.

As you laid in bed a couple nights later, you couldn't help but wonder what happened to Jimin. What had turned him into such an angry, volatile person that he was now. Then you thought about how he had responded to your question about his mother -- he had gotten so angry. He was such a mama's boy when you knew him, positively clinging to his mother skirt and holding her hand every chance he got.

Your thoughts were disrupted by your doorbell ringing. It wasn't too late but it was still past a courteous hour. You simply slid on an oversized cardigan that was sitting on a chair in the corner of your room.

You wished you could pretend to see Taehyung standing there, a sheepish smile on his face as he saw you. He had been blowing up your phone since that party, trying to fix what Jimin had done but you hadn't bothered answering him. It had only been a matter of time until he would show up -- and there he was.

"Hi..." You sighed at his small voice, like he was worried you would send him away. As much as you didn't want to face this problem, you didn't have the heart to send him back home. So you let him in.

It was when you attempted to offer him a drink that he opened the conversational door.

"Jimin's not a bad guy," He suddenly said, making you frown.

"Maybe not to his friends," You replied fiddling with the hem of your shorts.

"L-Look, he was mean I know!" He cried, taking one of your hands in his. "And he had no right to touch you like he did, but he's really not a bad guy. He's just temperamental and he's got some problems but --"

"What happened to him?"

"What do you mean?"

"To make him such...such an angry person?" Taehyung paused, seeming to not know how to go about responding to that question.

"It's really not my place to tell you," He finally settled on and you sighed. You should have anticipated that. As much as Taehyung wanted to redeem his best friend, he would never go about telling his secrets.

"I understand," You replied. "Well thank you for coming to talk to me Tae, but it's late and I really should get to bed,"

"_____,"

"It's okay, I'm not mad about it," You reassured, smiling when Taehyung's shoulders relaxed.

You never thought to expect that just the next evening, you would be meeting Jimin once again.

You had been asked to stay later to water the flowers and plants as Kyungok had a family emergency to attend to so you were left to lock up. However, just as you stepped out of the shop to begin your trek home, there was a terrible commotion from the small alleyway beside the shop. You weren’t going to investigate, simply planning on ignoring it and going home.

It seems fate wasn’t too keen on letting that happen because before you knew it you were sprawled on the pavement with a scraped knee and elbow.

“Oh shit!” A familiar voice had you looking around to investigate only to see the wide eyes of Park Jimin. “Are you okay?”

“Y-Yeah, I think so…” You muttered, dusting yourself off and shakily standing up. When you met his gaze, you were unsurprised to see nothing in them -- like being here was a chore. “What the hell was that about?”

“Got into a bit of scuffle, nothing to worry about,” He shrugged, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Over what?”

“Don’t worry about it,” He growled, glaring at you.

“Well I feel it’s my business when you’ve literally made me bleed, you jerk,” You grumbled, your words reminding you of the burning sting in your knee and elbow. When he didn’t reply, you scoffed and turned your back on him -- ready to walk away.

“Where the hell are you going?” He snapped, heavy footsteps following after you.

“Don’t worry about it!” You mocked, which seemed to only aggravate him more because he groaned behind you. “Stop following me!”

“Why? Does it annoy you?” He sounded much too pleased with himself, he was teasing you.

When you didn’t reply, the two of you fell into silence. If it hadn’t been for his heavy boot-clad footsteps behind you, you could have been mistaken that he was gone. He didn’t speak up again for another several minutes; asking why we were at the beach. At that, you froze and looked around, coming to the realization that you were in the place from that summer.

“This is…”

“I’m going home,” Jimin’s voice had lost all teasing tone it once had, and was instead empty and monotonous.

“Wait,” You grabbed his arm, halting him from moving.

“Let me go, I wanna go home,” He snapped.

“I know,”

“You know?” He scoffed, turning to look at you now. “What the hell do you mean you know?”

“I know why you don’t want to be here,”

“Shut up,” He snarled, ripping his arm from your grasp. “You don’t know shit!”

“Yes I do!” You cried, grappling onto him again. “When you were 11, you spent a summer here with your mom in one of the little beach houses down there!”

“What?” He softened immediately at your words, furrowing his brows together. “How did you know about that?”

“You were next door to me and my mom, we hung out all summer together,” You supplied, giving a sad smile.

“You’re lying, there’s no way…”

“I taught you to make flower crowns and you kissed me -- it was my first kiss,” Slowly, his look of disbelieving turned into one of shock.

“_____...her name...your name...and your mom--”

“Sooyoung,” You supplied, smiling when he softened completely.

“How can I really believe you?”

“I have a picture…” You pulled out your phone and went to your gallery -- the glare from your screen making you squint. “Here,”

It was a picture you’d asked your mom to send you after you found out about Jimin. You had asked for it just to make sure. When you showed it to Jimin -- just a picture of you and him holding hands on the porch of his beat house, he smiled. You swear Jimin had never smiled at anything you’d ever said or done and it filled you with a fluttery giddy feeling.

Then, the smile disappeared.

“She died…” He whispered, still staring at that picture. “About 2 months after you left, there was an accident -- dead on arrival,”

Before you knew what you were doing, you were pulling him in for a hug. He was warm and he smelled just like that vanilla candle that was once burning in his room. His shoulders shook as he sobbed into your shoulder, holding you tight as you consoled him.

“I was so lonely, all I could think about was how that summer was the happiest I’d been -- with you and Mom,” He stuttered for air as he spoke. “I’m so sorry I’ve been so horrible to you -- to everyone. I was just so...angry. I still am. I miss her so much, _____,”

“I know, Jimin,” You whispered, reaching up to gently stroke his hair, making him sigh. “I forgive you,”

“R-Really?” He whimpered.

“Yeah,” You pulled back lightly, getting a look at his teary eyes and trembling lips. You suddenly realized he had a little scrape on his cheek that was starting to cause his eye to bruise. “Come to mine, let’s get cleaned up and we can talk, okay?”

Once comfortably situated on your couch, you took a moment to clean your own scapes before sitting down to carefully disinfect and take care of Jimin’s so his cheek wouldn’t scar.

Neither of you realized how close your faces were together until you felt his breath fanning across your lips. When you met his eyes, you were shocked by the intensity in them; they were dark but help such deep emotion. Then, as if moving in slow motion, he leaned in to meet your lips in a kiss.

Your eyes fluttered closed, easily losing yourself in the kiss. His fingers cupped your jaw, angling your head so he could deepen the kiss. He lead it, completely dominating you but you truly couldn't care less as he let his tongue sneak into your mouth.

He pulled away, resting his forehead against yours and sighing.

"You're a better kisser than you were," His words had you laughing, playfully shoving his shoulder and in turn making him crack a smile.

"I was 10!"

"Well, you've gotten better," He teased, leaning in to kiss you once again.

You smiled into the kiss, your hands wandering up his chest to his shoulders to push his jacket off his shoulders. You could feel his body stiffen at the action and you could only hope he got the hint you were trying to convey. He seemed to, as he pulled away and tightening his grip on your chin.

"Are you sure you wanna do that, babygirl?" His tone was dark, full of dominant promise.

"Y-Yeah," You breathed, already feeling your body heating up at the way he was looking at you.

"Where's your bedroom?" You felt your heart speed up as you stood up, taking his hand in yours to lead down the hallway to your bedroom.

Despite the fact he had treated you horribly, you could see it in him that he was falling back into what he once was. Perhaps knowing who you were had helped taped some of the wounds his mother's death had left in him. You were from a happy part of his life and he appreciated that.

Before you could sit down on your bed, he caught you by the waist, fingers curiously inching your t-shirt up. In a flurry, you stripped your shirt off and let it flutter to the ground silently. His lips were on your neck in an instant, nipping and licking along the skin of your shoulder and collarbone. His fingers were rough, callused as he caressed you -- wanting to touch every inch of your skin that he could.

Before he could reach your bra to take it off, you were pushing his shirt up to pull over his head. The material scattered his hair, fluffing it up and making it messier than it already was. As you looked at his body, you noticed a small tattoo located on his ribs. Tracing your fingers over the ink, you noticed they were dates -- no doubt dates to do with his mother. He smiled sadly at you for a split second before pulling you into another kiss.

"Let me suck you off?" You asked, biting your lip as you gazed up at him through your lashed. He groaned, nodding his consent before you took a seat on the edge of the bed. You were at just the right height now. Mentally, you thanked the gods that you wouldn't end up with rug burn on your knees over this.

The veins in his hands bulged through the skin as he pulled his belt from the loops and dropped it on the floor -- the carpet muffling the noise. He flicked open the button, the zipper easily coming down afterwards and you felt yourself gush into your panties when you noticed he was bare beneath them.

"No underwear?" You asked softly, earning a cocky smirk from him.

"Go ahead and touch, princess,"

Truth be told, he wasn't spectacularly long but he was thick in a way they you knew would leave a delicious burn in the wake of him stretching you open. Precum beaded at the tip and as you wrapped your fingers around him, you could feel his pulse through the velvety soft skin.

Leaning your head down, you swirled your tongue around the pretty pink head of him. He groaned, fingers finding their way into your hair -- a soothing sting settling in your scalp at the force he was holding you. The deeper you took him into your mouth, the harder he got. His precum was sweet, hot, and a little bitter and you were eager to taste more on your tongue. Glancing up at him through your lashes, you were met with the sight of his lidded eyes and thick bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He was tense, eyes paying close attention as you sucked him off.

"Take me all the way," He ordered, using his grip on your hair to urge you to take him until he was edging his way down your throat, past your gag reflex.

He groaned, cussing explicitly when your nose met his pelvis. Your eyes were watering, a few stray tears tipping past your lash line. It felt dirty when his hand, abandoning its anchor in your hair to cup your throat where it was stretching and bulging as it contained his thick cock.

After several seconds, you pulled up with a soft gasp, spit dribbling past your lips and down your chin as you did so.

"Messy baby," He cooed, wiping some off your chin only to pop the digit in his mouth with a sigh. "Let me see your pretty tits, yeah?"

As he leaned over you, you took his cock into your mouth again. He groaned, but continued on with his task of undoing the clasp of your bra. When it was freed, he tossed the fabric away and stood up straight to gaze at your bare breasts.

"Will you let me fuck your throat, baby?" He asked, reaching down to cup one of your breasts as you continued to suck him off. You nodded, refusing to free your mouth of him to answer. He muttered a little praise of 'good girl' before bracing himself to begin thrusting into your mouth.

You relaxed your throat, getting used to the first few shallow thrusts -- just a little taste of what was to come.

When your hands gripped his thighs, it was like a band snapping and then he was fucking your throat. He held nothing back, making you choke and gag around him. He groaned, feeling how tight and hot your throat was around him and it only turned into a moan when you cupped his ball -- full and heavy against your palm.

"Dirty girl," He chuckled, bangs matted to his forehead with sweat.

By the time he was done, everything was messy with your spit and he was sticky with sweat. Once you caught your breath, you leaned forward to press a light kiss to the tip of him -- his precum and your own saliva mixing together.

"Fuck, you're so good," He cooed, picking up his disposed shirt to clean up your mouth and chest where you had drooled down onto.

"Thank you," You replied, a little smirk on your lips which made him chuckle.

"How about I pay you back, hm? For being such a good girl," You nodded, already feeling excited. "Lay back for me,"

You did as he asked with no hesitation, getting yourself comfortable in your pillows. He stripped off his jeans, leaving him bare before you while also giving you a little show. You decided to follow his lead to save a little work and by the time he crawled onto the bed you were naked as well.

He didn't waste a single second situating himself between your thighs -- spreading your thighs for him to expose your wet cunt to his greedy eyes. His lips were swollen from being bitten but they felt phenomenal capturing your clit between them.

"Mmm, such a pretty little cunt, baby," He cooed after releasing the bud, swirling his tongue around it to make you whine. "You're so sensitive too huh? When was the last time you let someone eat your pussy?"

"I-I--" You gasped when his tongue found its way into your pulsing hole -- moaning at your taste.

"Answer me," He growled, voice muffled.

"I don't remember! A-A little while," You admitted, feeling your face burn at the admission of not getting laid in so long.

"Hmm, how sad," He smirked, introducing two fingers he used to spread your folds. "A cunt this pretty should be eaten every day, I think,"

You face burned further at his words -- he had such a dirty mouth.

He didn't seem to expect an answer this time because he dove back in -- eating you out like a man starved. You were almost close already; maybe you were needy than you had thought. Or perhaps it was just Jimin's impact on your body.

"Ah, if you're gonna cum," He stopped, grinning wolfishly before laying beside you on the bed. "it's gonna be on my cock,"

Taking the hint, you straddled his hips. He gripped his own cock, helping you lower yourself down onto him. He hadn't prepared your entrance very well so there was quite a sting but fuck did it feel good. When you bottomed down, you were were trembling.

"Go ahead, baby," He encouraged, holding your waist as you eagerly started to ride him.

You whined, gripping his hands on your body as the pleasure began to rise once more -- remnants of your denied orgasm.

"Close?" He breathed, abandoning his hold on one of your sides to find your clit with his deft thumb. Circling the throbbing, swollen little bud had you flying over the edge into your orgasm.

"Fuck!" You cried, tossing your head back as your body trembled. Jimin groaned beneath you, feeling the way your cunt tried to milk him of his own orgasm -- which he expertly held back.

As you settled down, panting and trembling calming but you were still speared on his cock.

"Such a good girl," He cooed, sitting up to press a kiss to your lips before your world suddenly flipped and you found yourself on your back with Jimin on top of you.

He was fucking you again -- hips moving at a breakneck speed as the head of his cock nailed your g-spot with crippling accuracy. You were still so sensitive from your orgasm that you couldn't help but claw at his back -- probably drawing blood. He didn't seem to mind, however, as the prick of pain only seemed to spur him on.

You were thrown into an orgasm once again, your eyes rolling back as you cried out his name. This time Jimin couldn't hold his orgasm back -- spilling into you with a soft whine into your chest.

The everything was still. It felt like an hour passed before he moved, pulling out of you and getting up.

You felt oddly cold without him near. He came out of the bathroom with a towel -- one that was in the cabinet. You didn't really peg Jimin as one to really care enough to clean up his partner but tonight had opened a lot of doors of unexpectedness from him.

"Can I crash here tonight?" He asked suddenly as he cleaned the last bit of his cum off your thighs.

"Yeah of course," You replied easily, feeling giddy from having him with you for longer.

He crawled into bed with you -- neither of you really caring or feeling like stripping the bed or putting clothes on. It was a problem for tomorrow.

Then, under the blanket of darkness after he turned out the light, he pulled you close to his body.

"I don't wanna lose you, ____," He whispered, his breath fanning across your face.

"Me either," You also whispered, any louder feeling wrong.

"I hope you'll stay by my side and forgive me for how I've treated you,"

"I already do, Jimin," You kissed his cheek, smiling at him through the darkness. "And I'm not going to go anywhere, I promise,"

"Do you remember that summer, it was the last day and we both knew we weren't going to see each other again," He started, tightening his hold on you. "And we were making wishes by blowing dandelions?"

"Yeah, I remember,"

"I wished that I would be as happy as I was then again one day," He confessed, nuzzling you softly. "And I think I'm that road now,"

#bts smut #jimin smut #bts scenarios #jimin scenarios #bts imagines #jimin imagines #bts reactions #jimin reactions #jimin preferences #bts preferences #bts fanfic #jimin fanfic

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stcrmys · 5 years ago

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god !! i hate that i had to rush this but i promise i am so beyond excited to write with all of you ! stormy , thanks kylie jenner for the name idea hehe , is a brand new muse and i am so excited to explore her and see where she goes !! i love plotting, like i find it so fun and am a hoe for angst and drama and friendships ! god if i dont get a cute bff plot you will see me pouting until the end of my days !! asdfg . basically though my point was if you want to plot please just like this ?? message me ? i have to switch to mobile but ill still be here !! also i still have to figure out my tags and finish my plot so i repeat do not desktop my good sis’s blog . anyway please let me shut up !!

* lawless paparazzi flashed photos of a 2019 , zenvo st1 pulling into the sparkling gates of quincy park , indicating that stormy of the prosperous villeneuve lineage has returned home . college ended for the female in 2018 , but they’re already flourishing in their field , proclaiming that their bachelor's degree in music production is being put to prolific use . the general public may be unworldly enough to believe that her accomplishments were earned honestly , but the people of new york city are painstakingly aware that it's impossible to snag a top paying position as a music artist right out of university . the family’s been tormented with a well - known rumor that they buy out every record company to eliminate their competition and when that goes south they have a tendency of releasing career damaging scandals to the public to ruin the company’s reputation and their talents career’s for years , so it was news to no one when the villeneuve’s made local headlines claiming the only reason their obstreperous progeny’s career is what it is is because her father paid spotify, billboard, and apple million of dollars to make sure that her first album went number one and stayed number one . tempest has done a splendid job of keeping the bloodline’s furtive truths confidential , but their reputation of being effervescent & gaining a postgrad inheritance of 724.8m hasn’t been enough to cease the counter blast from new york’s angry civilians . if they’re not heedful , not even quincy park’s sturdy golden gates will be capable of keeping out the city’s vengeance . ( madison beer , twenty one , the skookum / )

‧ * i. ╱ stats .

name : stormy avania genevieve villeneuve

nickname(s) : storm , storm - storm, little villeneuve, honeybee.

age : twenty one .

birthday : november sixteenth .

zodiac : scorpio .

gender ╱ pronouns : cisfemale , she and her.

sexual orientation : heterosexual

romantic orientation : heteroromantic

languages : english, french, italian.

occupation : music artist

voiceclaim : madison beer.

‧ * i. ╱ summary .

hazel hues dipped in virescent , locks of chocolate that sits on honeyed skin . the tempest . boisterous . captivating . a goddess true to the name that carved itself into her flesh , stormy . her arrival itself being chaotic winds and whispers of a mistress who had set themselves out to tear apart a home . a concept twisted and concealed by the hands of the villeneuve’s . sob stories and apologizes along with the preaching of “ i’m becoming a better man everyday, “ clinging to the ears of the media , and soon the world . expected . andres villeneuve could do not wrong . a powerful man within the world of music . respected and adored . someone whom inherited the ability to make the world drop to their knees and worship mediocre musicians . why would they stone him for one single mistake ? or at least , why would they stone him for one single mistake for the rest of his life . they forgive him in the name of everyone . and soon , the villeneuve became a family of seven .

she was privileged . her tiny feet walked on thousand dollar carpets , the fabric that clung to her body should have been carved from the hands of an angel at what they were cost . private school . tutors . cheerleading and then volleyball and then soccer and then back to cheerleading . the piano . the saxophone . the drums . the guitar . her childhood consisted of experiencing everything there was to experience . sports . music . art . learning at two languages by the time she reached ten . she was raised to be intelligent . athletic . talented . she had to be talented . within the arts , if she was not picking up an instrument or holding a note her dad grew bored and annoyed . something that the small brunette learned quick . and so like most children , she impressed . she really impressed . she was polite and respectful . well mannered . the strictness of her father and step mother weighing on her shoulders . they wanted perfection .

being with her father and his wife and kids was almost as if she stepped into a dream . flashing lights , luxuriousness . and while her mom had a status of her own , her dad was shaped and formed different . the fame . the respect . it was everything to him . bouncing back and forth , stormy felt like two different people . with her father , she was all work no play . and her mother ? she was play and whatever she wanted to do . her mom taught her the importance in life was not the cars and the houses and the clothes ( “although they are nice.. reallly fucking nice ) but the character behind the objects . and she refused to let the vibrant child of hers be locked into a box of running to fame like it was the only thing that would make her life and her impact important . her mother ? she was all laughs and giggles . jokes and shopping days . sky diving in greece and pretend music videos in italy . the one that mostly shaped stormy into who she is now .

for the last twenty one years is one person that reflects a childhood split into two . the ambitious sometimes selfish sometimes ruthless “ ill pretend im stone cold if that what it takes “ and the vibrant boisterous life of the party and the light of your life . the twenty one year old girl who has heard be yourself and be better from two different voices and is still trying to decide who she even is underneath the all the expectations .

‧ * ii. ╱ personality .

she is an animated laugh escaping parted lips , affectionate hands reaching out to pull you into her embrace . she’s the sound of her own heart beating in her ears as her foot is on the gas or her hues pear out at the sky of blue she’s about to jump in . she is tired eyes in result of not sleeping and instead writing song after song . she is one am studio sessions and three am shots . she is the small girl who pears up at her daddy and just wants to feel like she is more then just another way to benefit him . she is the desire to be wanted . to be loved . she’s spontaneous trips to tropical islands and dramatic scenes . she is harmless teasing and a goofy smile . day dreaming about falling in love . she’s the whisper in your ear that she loves you but the coldness in your bed as you reach out and realize that she’s no longer there . she’s not thinking about consequences . the honeyed dipped voice that tells you to do it . she’s gentle kisses against your skin . she’s feeling everything all the time and feeling it deeply . she’s the girl you just cannot take your eyes off of . she talks to you and suddenly you feel as though the world revolves around you . she’s scattered thoughts and rosy lips that never stop moving . a broken heart that never knows if it wants to grow cold or have someone come and fix it .

‧ * iii. ╱ headcanons ?? .

asdj she’s a mess? basically that’s all i got for her.

she’s the second youngest out of five.

is an artist under her dad’s label, and while she loves making music she does not love him having a say in her creative process.

she’s such a light !!

affectionate, playful, ambitious, careless, boisterous, hard to control, talkative, an adrenaline junkie! jealous and petty, vehement.

is such a different person around her dad? basically blocks him from seeing her true personality.

truth is she still fears his rejection.

she has a journal that she carries everywhere.

craves feeling important to people? if she doesnt feel like her bond with you is meaningful she gets all weird and annoying!

is hot and cold in romantic relations.

but so god damn affectionate! with everyone! let her hold your hand or lay her head against your shoulder or run her fingers up and down your arm !!!

is the ultimate adventure buddy .

needs excitement twenty four seven sorry.

will give you a nickname, she doesnt care if your name is cat. its not just c ! asdfg.

i have so much more but ill add later, im kind of rushing asdfg !!

‧ * iii. ╱ connections .

best friend, platonic soulmate, ex best friends, group of friends preferably all girls, family friends, childhood friends, other clients who are signed to her father, first love, ex lovers, toxic relationship, toxic friendship, on and off relationship, confidants, partner in crime, the mom friend who always moms her, rivals, friends who drifted apart, friends with benefits, ex friends with benefits, one sided friendship, one sided relationship, unlikely friends, cousins, hardly related cousins, love hate relationship, forbidden romance or friendship???

#york.intro #this is so ugly #forgive me pls #and love stormy anyway #i hope this is small and sup because thats what its saying but #its showing up on my dash all big and annoying #my loudest sigh ever

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mkayisinsane · 6 years ago

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Another 11/11/11 Tag Game!!

I was tagged again haha thanks @spilledinkpot for the tag, I really appreciate it! Again, sorry I took so long!

Her questions:

1. Are any (or all) of your ocs inspired by real people or other characters?

Not all of them, and much less so as I get older, but in my early writing every character had a real-life counterpart. Most often, my protagonist's best friend or most trusted person is based off of my parabatai. However, I do pretty much always imagine myself as the main character, or sometimes the villain. Also, imagining yourself as your OC aids the writing process SO MUCH I cannot stress that enough.

2. What is/was your inspiration for your current WIP?

I have a lot of current WIPs, I'm gonna go with my most recent, Flirting with Death. My inspiration was kinda morbid, I was literally sitting in the library at my college waiting on my mother to get me so we could carpool to a funeral. And a few guys were walking past where I sat, eyeing me up and down and I thought to myself, "I swear if one of them tries to hit on me right now I'm gonna make them regret it." And then Thana Carmichael was born. And those guys quickly escaped the death glare I gave them.

3. Do you prefer to plan your characters out, or develop them as the story progresses?

I normally have the base of my character and their personality and how they handle things worked out before I start writing them, but for the most part I develop them as the story progresses. I like to write them in such a way that I learn a little more about them as I go, just like the reader would.

4. How do you deal with writer's block?

I don't lol just kidding! It really depends, if I'm writing and I don't absolutely have to continue or get it done right then, I take a break. Listen to musical soundtracks, play video games, watch a film who's genre corresponds with the type of scene I'm writing. Anything with a story. If I do have to get it done right then though, I just keep writing. I write absolute shit that makes no sense and then take it out later. I once wrote a whole page of "blah" over and over again. I free write until I get my mojo back.

5. What/who first encouraged you to begin writing?

According to my earliest childhood babysitter, I've been writing since I learned the alphabet. I remember once when I was six, I wrote a whole six page book with pictures I drew about why I thought birds were pretty and cool (Update: I am now afraid of birds.) It was titled "BIRDS," yes in all caps, and I cried because my name was so long that I couldn't fit the whole thing on the cover. However, I didn't start really writing until about 6th grade. I was reading a book, and the ending was so sad that I got mad and rewrote it, and I realized how much I loved making stories, how much I loved choosing my own ending. In my life as a child, nothing was certain and I never stayed in one place for too long or made any lasting friendships, but writing was always a constant for me. And through writing I made more friends, and they helped me write and it was just incredible. I can't put into words how much writing has done for me.

6. Are you able to write everyday, or need a couple of days intermediate?

For my WIPs, I definitely need a day or two off before I continue the story but I definitely try to write something every day, even if it's just free-writing or ranting about my day or journaling, I write something every day. It isn't progress on my WIPs, but it helps.

7. How long have you been writing for?

In general, since about age 6 or 7. Seriously, about 6th grade, but I didn't like any of my writing until 8th grade, and at times I don't even now. So in general, 12 or 13 years, but seriously only about 7 or 8 years.

8. What inspired your first WIP?

The Percy Jackson series. I was 10 or 11, and I had just finished that series and I was mad there wasn't more, so I wrote myself into the books as like a spin-off type thing with the minor gods (btw in case anyone cares, I'm a Hades kid). Seven chapters in, my OC still hadn't left her house. It was not my finest work haha

9. Who are the authors that you looked up to, to develop your writing?

Lemony Snicket (yes I know that's a pen name, but I mean A Series of Unfortunate Events specifically), Neal Shusterman with his Unwind series, Marie Lu with literally anything she's written, Cassandra Clare with The Infernal Devices and The Mortal Instruments, J.K. Rowling with Harry Potter (I'm a huge Potterhead, Slytherin btw), Rick Riordan with anything he's ever written, Leigh Bardugo with anything she's ever written but mainly Six of Crows, and Oscar Wilde with The Picture of Dorian Gray. Probably many many more, I'll think of them later.

10. Is there a book that inspired you to write your own story?

Remember I mentioned that I didn't like the ending of a book I was reading so I rewrote it? That book was Bridge to Teribethia. If you read it, you know why I changed the ending. But also, I drew inspiration from books that made me feel like I was actually in the story, like I could see it all for myself. The stories felt real, and I wanted to be able to tell stories like that. To travel the world without leaving my room.

11. Do you include moral points in your writing, or prefer just the entertainment?

There is always something to take away from my writing, some lesson to be had, whether it be an emotion, a theme, a vice, or a virtue. I can't promise it's always moral, but it's always there.

My questions:

Which of your OCs fits the quote, "those with no vices have very few virtues"?

If you could meet just one of your favorite authors, dead or alive, who would it be?

What is your number one goal as a writer? (i.e. have your books taught in schools as "classics," write a series that makes people cry, get fanmail, mine personally is to create the perfect villain that no one can hate no matter what they do)

Do you project onto your writing?

Favorite ship you've written? Why?

Do you write LGBTQ+ characters? Why?

Do you write characters with mental illness? Why?

Have you ever tried to get published/actually been published?

What keeps you motivated to write?

What is your writing support system?

Do you write book dedications, and if so, are they always different?

And this concludes our 11/11/11 tag game! If I've tagged you and you have no clue who I am, I'm sorry lol I panicked tagging people but it means that either I follow you or you follow me. Rules are simple: answer my 11 questions, ask your own 11 questions, tag 11 people to answer them! Of course you don't have to play if you don't wanna, don't feel pressured to. If you want to tag me back or have me answer my own questions or just random questions, shoot me an ask. Thanks, and good luck!

@r-avenlee @writingmyselfintoanearlygrave @benvolio-writes @illiteracy-is-for-woozles @ill-write-when-im-dead @mercyandcruelty @crimescenedwrites @fictionalthrills @writerofscribbles @els-writes @gaslightwestern

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wiener-soldiers · 7 years ago

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hallelujah (i) - steve trevor

summary: Learning how to steal from a young age, you used this skill to help provide for your family. However, after trying to steal a watch from a certain Air Force Pilot/Spy, he comes to with a proposal.

pairing: Steve Trevor x Fem!Reader

words: 2,080 (whoop im back in the +2k zone)

warnings: stealing (dont steal kids), mentions of drinking

taglist: @sebastianstanfoundmymixtape

a/n: it’s been a while, sorry guys. but we finally have an imagine other than marvel! this is gonna be a mini series, im thinking like three parts. i’ll try to have this series finished before school. remember y’all that imagines are open and so is tagging if you wanna be on the tag list!

I heard there was a secret chord that David played and it pleased the Lord.

But you don't really care for music, do you?

Well, it goes like this; the fourth, the fifth, the minor fall, and the major lift.

The baffled king composing: Hallelujah.

You didn't care how dangerous your job was, it was important. Not many people, let alone women, would grow up to become a spy.

However, you, (Y/N) (Y/L/N), are different from other women.

Before the war broke out, you and your family immigrated from (Y/H/T) to London. In your hometown, you were quite the scholar, despite you being a girl. You learned a lot about science in school, but you also learned how to steal, fight, and survive in the streets.

That's how Steve Trevor found you. Or rather, you found him.

After immigrating to England, your family sacrificed more than you could've ever imagined. Long story short; promises were broken, money was lost, and the landlord evicted your family from your small apartment. Now, both of your parents and your younger brother Jack lived on the dingy top floor to the three story building that housed a bakery that both your parents worked in on the bottom floor. They didn't bring much loot home, only whatever they were tipped, the nearly stale loafs of bread that weren't sold the past three days, and a couple of fruits if they were lucky. They don't even get paid regularly, but the bakery owner assured your family that you could stay on the third floor of their building as long as they worked.

Believe it or not, that was the most generous anyone has been to your family since you've arrived in London.

So, being the scrappy, deceiving girl you were, you sneaked out during the day while your parents were working and your brother was learning to read from some old books you brought from your old house, and during the night while everyone was asleep to steal whatever you could find.

Like today.

After double checking that your parents were asleep in their small room, you tiptoed to your brother who lays on his cot in your shared room. Snuggled in his cheap, ratty sleeping bag, his head pokes out to look at you as you pull own your long khaki coloured trench coat, thrifted from a thrift shop down the street. Jack was the only person who knows what you do while you sneak out of the house. The first time you brought home goods (a couple of dollars and a pocket watch), your mother had questioned the source. You told her that you were working as a tailor's apprentice.

As you put on a wide brimmed hat to cover your eyes (it was stolen of course), Jack props himself up with his elbows.

"What are you gonna come back with this time?" Jack says with wide, innocent eyes.

You walk closer to him and press a soft kiss on the top of his forehead. You whisper back, "Dunno yet, Jack. I actually got someone's extra change, so maybe I'll get you some more ink so you can practise writing. I might even stop by the pub and flatter some of the lads up and maybe get a few bucks, maybe a watch."

He frowns a bit, "But your coming back, right?"

You smile at him before slipping on some plain black flats, "I always come back, don't I?"

You blow a kiss to Jack one last time before sliding open the window and hopping onto the fire escape. You slide the window shut behind you and you begin to climb down the creaky steps of the fire escape.

After reaching the ground, you head in the direction of the market. During the day, it's filled with vendors selling goods, but at night, it's pub's are filled with people of all ages, very drunk. It's not the safest place for girls, but it was the perfect place to coax a few drinks out of some younger men and pick up some extra cash, or some watches. You walk into your first pub, one of the nicer pubs on the block. The dimly lit pub was filled people of all ages; some seniors having drinks with their friends, couples going on late night dates, and of course, lonely, moping men.

That's how you had met Steve.

He was sitting in a table alone, head hung low while he rolled a glass of whiskey on rocks. Your heart ached for him, as he looked very sad. But you needed the money.

So you approached him.

You slid in the seat in front of him, placing your arms on the table. He doesn't notice you at first, so you decide to speak. "Are you all right?" you ask in a mock British accent. After trial and error, you found that using an accent makes people trust you faster.

The man looks up and you stare in a pair of the bluest eyes you have ever seen. His dirty blonde messily falls on top of his forehead as he moves.

He's very handsome, you note.

The man looks at you, dumbfounded. "Who are you?" he questions.

"Megan Danning. At your service," you blurt out. It was the first fake name that popped into your head.

"Steve, Steve Trevor. What's a pretty dame like you doing in a place like this alone at night?" he inquires while leaning forward.

"Well Mr. Trevor, who ever said I was alone?" you say while smirking slightly. You had silently wished you had applied some of that cheap red lipstick you had stolen from the store on the corner of the block. You rest your hand on top of his and bite your lip. You fiddle with the clasp on the his watch. You manage to unclasp it and you slide it into you coat sleeve without him noticing.

Steve scoffs, but stares you down anyways. "Late night, pretty girl targeting a lonely lad like me, hand on top of mine. You think I'm stupid, but I know what you're doing." He finishes while pulling his hand away from underneath yours. He pulls down his wrist and reveals empty skin where a watch would normally be.

He smirks a little, "My watch please, Megan Danning. But that isn't your name, is it?"

Shit, you think to yourself. No one has caught you before, so you were beyond surprised.

Without warning, you stand up and bolt. Without looking back, you sprint out of the pub. You can't tell if Steve (if that even is his real name) is following or not. Your flats make a little tapping sound as you sprint down the cobblestone streets, trying to avoid cars.

"Hey!" you hear someone call out from behind you. You immediately recognise it as Steve's voice.

Quickly, you slip into the alley closest to you, hoping that he didn't see you. You slightly peak your head from the wall of the alley that your back is pressed on to see Steve standing a few blocks away in the middle of the street. You watch as he cups his hand around his mouth and lets out a scream.

"I'll find you, Megan Danning! I promise you," he finishes, getting strange looks from passersby.

You furrow your eyebrows and watch him turn around and walk back to the pub. Only after he became out of sight, you slip back onto the road and saunter in the shadows until you reach the house. You silently climb the fire escape, slipping the watch into your coat pocket. Once you reach the third floor, you slide the window open and step inside the room. Jack is still wrapped in his sleeping bag in his corner of the room, but this time he is asleep. You place a kiss on top of his head before stripping yourself from your attire before changing into sleepwear and climbing into bed.

You lay wide awake for what seems like hours, still high on adrenaline. Finally, you succumb to your exhaustion and fall asleep.

When morning came around, you found yourself groggy. You sat up on your ratty cot and rubbed the sleep from your eyes.

"Morning (Y/N)," Jack says from the other side of the room. He had put on some trousers and an old blue button up.

"Morning Jacky," you say while rolling out of bed.

"Ma and Pa went down to the bakery already, but the brought up some jam and bread for breakfast." he says before walking out the room, probably to get food.

You find a plain yellow dress made from old fabric. It's the only thing left in your closet so you slip it on along with your flats. You pull your (Y/H/C) in a low ponytail as you walk out of the room into the kitchen.

"I made some toast for you," Jack says.

"Thanks, Jack."

As you munch on the nearly stale bread with the strawberry, Jack finishes his slice and asks, "Did you get anything last night?"

You nearly choke on your bread.

"No, I didn't," you lie. You didn't want your little brother worrying about you.

"That's too bad. Are you going again this afternoon?" The afternoon was usually the time were you would usually go into the market and slip fruits and vegetables into your purse and jacket.

"I don't think so. We still got a little bit of potatoes from yesterday. Besides, I haven't read with in a while."

Jack's mouth goes wide, a smile forming on his face. He leaps up from his seat and hugs you. "That would be nice," he mumbles into you. You laugh at the boy's enthusiasm.

"I'll clean this up, and you go find a book to read." He nods and runs of to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, eyes scanning for a book.

You finish washing up the dishes as Jack already begins to read his book. As you dry the dishes, you hear someone knock on the door. Assuming it's your mother (she makes visits throughout the day) you yell out, "Coming Ma! Just finishing up the dishes." Instead of a reply, the person at the door knocks again.

You sigh but walk to the door anyways and open it. "Sorry Ma, if you were in a rush. I was ju--"

"Hello."

Your eyes widen in utter shock and your jaw drops.

It was Steve.

Steve Trevor.

"(Y/N)? Who's at the door?" you hear Jack say from behind.

Steve smiles a little, "So your name is (Y/N), huh?"

You push him into the hallway and call out, "Jack, stay inside."

You slam the door shut and spin to face Steve. "How do you know where I live? Did you follow me home? If you like your watch so much, I'll give it back to you. Just, don't hurt my brother."

Steve furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head rapidly, "No, no! You got it all wrong. I'm not here to hurt anyone! You can keep the watch, you probably need it more than I do." he says while gesturing to you.

You scoff, "Excuse me?! What's that supposed to mean?!"

His eyes widen, "Nothing! That's not the point. The point is, I have a proposal."

"I don't care about your damn proposal! Is your name really Steve Trevor? How do you know where I live!?"

"Listen, I'm Captain Steve Trevor of the United States Air Force."

"Then what are you doing in London? I don't know if you've noticed, but a war is about to break out."

"That's why I'm here. They sent me here as a spy for the British, that's how I found out where you lived. They needed all the help they could get."

"So?!" you screech. "That doesn't explain why you're at my house."

"Like I said, they need all the help they can get. That's where you come in."

"Huh?"

"You're really skilled. You almost sneaked away with my watch last night without me noticing. We could really use someone like you, they'd never see it coming."

You cross your arms, "What's in it for me?"

"Security for your family when the war breaks out, a stable job and income, serving your country, y'know, the whole nine yards."

"One request, though."

"Huh?"

"I have one request, and I'll do it."

"Your not really in the position to request anythi--"

"Put my brother in school. Not a bad one, a private one. He deserves an education."

Steve inhales deeply, "I'll see what I can do."

You smile a little, "Great."

Steve smiles slightly and sticks his hand out to shake, "Let's try that introduction again. Steve Trevor."

You smile back and shake his hand, "(Y/N) (Y/L/N). Nice to meet you."

That's when it all began.

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