#bash my head against the wall until I fucking die

[divorcedyaoi]

I am so fucking tired I stayed home so I could hopefully nap but I forgot that Doug is a fucking asshole and Rika does not shut up so I’m furious and exhausted I want them to be quiet so fucking bad I’m going to lose it

[hana-bobo-finch]

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[zombieunicorngamerzu]

(Warnings - Pre-crash GIP Lottie Matthews x fem reader, Lottie and reader never really liking each other until they meet in the locker room after a fight on the field and fuck, Enemies to Lovers)

“Your so fucking full of yourself, princess!” You spat out at her, in the lockeroom after ANOTHER day of bashing each other on the field, you two were sent off the field early due to a dispute between you two.

Lottie only scoffed and rolled her eyes, her arms crossed as she leans back against a wall, “I don’t understand why you have to act like such a bitch to me, what did I even do to you?”

You just let out a aggressive breath, rolling your eyes as you swung open your locker, blood hot and just angry, practically tearing off your shirt to change as you spoke, unaware of Lottie’s eyes widening and her quickening heartbeat, a blush coating her cheeks as she got a sight of your beautiful back, seeing your breasts pushed up with the bra your wearing in the mirror behind you, her trying to hold back a whimper when she feels herself getting hard way too quick (Thank God for compression shorts) she thought to herself.

“You think your so much better than everybody else, you are your fucking daddy’s money, your always staring at me, always fucking judging!” You yelled out at her as you pulled down your shorts, only making Lottie swallow and blink quicker, her just shivering and squirming from how hard her cock is straining against her compression shorts, god she wants to grab her cock so bad.

But then you’ll know, and she’s terrified of people knowing, especially you, you already hate her, Lottie doesn’t want to know what you’d do if you found out she’s thinking about all the ways she wants to pin you to that locker and fuck you so deep, to worship your body, to finally break you, to just have you stop hating her. If Lottie could ever just get one vulnerable moment with you where you don’t hate her, she swears she’d die happy. (She may have a slight crush and also kinda likes seeing you pent up and angry)

“Look, I’m not trying to seem judgy or snobby or whatever.” Lottie pleads desperately as she watches you get dressed, stepping closer to you as she holds out her hand.

“Yeah right, Matthews, I bet you fucking judge everyone who isn’t born from Daddy’s money, I work every fucking day after school until midnight, I work and work and work because my shitty parents like to steal money from me and not pay the bills and I have to fucking eat and on top of that, I have to worry about school and this team, soccer is my only chance at getting into a college on a scholarship, so stop fucking this up for me.” You rushed out with such a desperate tone through your anger as you swung around without realizing how close Lottie had gotten, she was towering over you, looking down at you, god you hated that, it made you feel small.

Lottie had this furrowed look on her face, pity. You hated that look more than when she would judge you, more than when she’s angry at you, more than her, god you felt so vulnerable you were fucking trembling with hatred and emotions, resulting to shoving Lottie hard, making her grunt but stay in her place due to her height and being stronger and sturdier than you.

“Fuck you, Matthews! Fuck you and your money, fuck you and your friends, fuck you and your pretty stupid face, just FUCK YOU!” You screamed out as you kept shoving her repeatedly until Lottie just kinda grabbed you and pulled you impossibly close while you thrashed into the tightest hug possible, you fought her, but she was stronger,

“Shhh, Shhh, I’m sorry, hey- I’m sorry okay, I’m sorry…” Lottie cooed out as she held you against her while you growled like some animal to get free, her resting her chin ontop of your head, resilient to hold you until you calmed, which slowly happened as you got exhausted, slumping into her, panting so heavy.

Lottie was more ashamed of her hard-on now more than ever, she shouldn’t be hard while your crying and making such noises, but she literally couldn’t help it. You were just sniffling now, letting out these cute adorable noises that made her cock twitch and Lottie’s heart flutter with protection and care for you* “Are you okay?” She asked gently as you nodded with a sniffle, “yeah, just- let me go…” you whimpered out with a broken tone and a sniffle while leaning back slightly, noticing how close Lotties face was to yours, only her expression this time was gentle, you were shocked when Lottie suddenly leaned in and kissed you so tenderly, her hands still on your back.

You just kinda froze for a moment with confusion and conflicted feelings, your supposed to hate Lottie, but with the feeling of her lips on yours, how gently she’s kissing you, it just made you give up and melt into her touch, making Lottie sigh out with a smile of happiness as she wrapped her arms around your waist and pulled you flush against her, what you weren’t prepared for as to feel her having a bulge, a… bulge… a very prominent, big bulge.

“Lottie…” You tried to speak but Lottie was already tugging you over to a bench, pulling you into her lap, your clothed core pressing right against what you know now is definitely a cock, making your eyes widen as you lifted your eyes to meet Lotties vulnerable ones* “I-I know you hate me and you probably think I’m disgusting, but I just- i-i care about you, so please can we just have this moment and then you can go back to hating me if you want after?” She begged, Lotties eyes we’re teary and her hips jerked with you in her lap, making the both of you shiver as she felt you buck down in her lap in result.

“Fine.” You just sighed out, you honestly were a super accepting person, you had no intention of ever telling anyone about this even if you did “hate” Lottie, you weren’t evil or a bitch, you just had emotional regulation problems. Sighing softly as you leant in for another kiss, this time taking control as you ground down on her clothes cock with a wiggle, making Lottie choke on a surprised gasp as you slid your hand under her team shorts, smiling once you felt just how hard she was, she was throbbing as you pulled her out of her shorts, her cock sprung up so eagerly, wet with precum, “Jeez, you like me that much?” You tried to joke and tease but your words only made Lottie whimper and nod quickly, “Y-Yes, so much, please…” she was already begging, you were surprised with how sensitive she was, making your eyes widen,

“Wait- Lottie, a-are you a virgin?” You asked the question that made Lottie freeze and her eyes widen, a heavy blush of embarrassment coating her cheeks as her lip quivered, looking down with a nod, “I’m sorry, you probably think I’m some pathetic creep now and I promise I’m not- I really care-“

“Lottie stop it.” You just shook your head and kissed her again, you didn’t like her actually talking bad about herself, the truth is you hated her because you thought she was perfect, your hand gently sliding down the base of Lotties cock while she shivered and moaned so desperately into your mouth, you had to trap her thighs down with yours just to keep her from bucking, Lottie spitting out so many apologies every time she bucked or whined, or whimpered. To be honest, you thought she was adorable, it almost made you smile.

Peppering kisses to Lotties neck as she witnessed for the first time you being gentle with her, she was surprised that you, the fiery-hotheaded, always quiet and broody you was being so kind to her, so gentle, it only just made her thighs shake and her cock throb, but then you spoke,

“That’s it, good girl Lot, your doing so good for me…” You whispered out just to soothe her when you saw how tears were spilling down her face, but as soon as you said those words, Lottie let out a sharp cry, accidentally spurting cum up and all over your hand and wrist as she bucked and babbled our apologies, “Agh- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” She looked so terrified youd be disgusted or angry with her as she came, only making you shake your head with a gentle look, rubbing her thigh, “Lottie, baby, hey, it’s okay, it’s normal.”

What you called her made her heart flutter, Lottie was so surprised and so excited from how gentle and kind you were being, panting heavily as she squirmed on the bench, she grew hard again basically right after cumming, only making you chuckle, “Oh pretty girl, I’m not that attractive, am I?”

Lottie just whined and nodded, “You are, you really are, I’ve liked you for such a long time but you’ve hated me and I’ve just been trying so hard to get you to like me and nothings worked and-“ You had to cut Lottie off again before she started crying more, shaking your head before you were standing up to undo your jeans, pulling them off.

Lottie just watched with nothing but wide eyes and excitement but also fear, she’d never felt the inside of a girl before, she hadn’t ever had a partner until now and it seemed like a miracle to have you.

“Wait- your not disgusted by me, you actually want to do this?” Lottie asked you as she watched you get naked, she was so surprised and in disbelief you wanted her, but all of her questions were answered when you climbed back into your lap and kissed her roughly before leaning back, hovering right over her throbbing cock* “No Lottie, I’m not disgusted, your gorgeous, pretty, and literally perfect, and- whatever.” You rolled your eyes before grabbing Lotties cock and positioning it at your wet folds, getting her tip wet which made Lottie whimper at the sensation. “N-no, tell me what you were gonna say.”

You just sighed and rolled your eyes before Lottie slid her hands up your waist, making your expression soften as you looked into her eyes, “I-“ you closed your eyes for a long moment before just spitting out, “I like you too, now fuck me so I don’t have to keep looking into your stupid puppy dog eyes.” You huffed, you hated feeling vulnerable or nice feelings, and Lottie was making you feel all of them.

She smiled so bright at your words, practically letting out a happy squeal as she wrapped her arms around you tight in a hug before kissing your cheek and pulling on your thighs to get you closer as she gained a little confidence to start to push in, the way you gasped as she did it, almost made her cum right then and there, but she had to hold it this time, raising her hips with a little grunt as her tip breached inside you, Lottie swore this feeling was the best feeling in the world until you actually helped her by sinking down on her, making her moan so deep and raspy, your moan following.

“O-oh my god… oh my god… OH- my god-“ Lottie couldn’t stop whimpering, almost sobbing again from how tight and wet and just warm you felt, she was shaking and sweating, her brows furrowed as she tried to adjust to this new sensation, it was so hard not to cum right there, she just let out a sob and hugged you, making you smile and kiss her cheek, your arms wrapped around her neck as you slowly rolled your hips, making Lottie cry in your ear as she bucked and started to tremble and squirm so rapidly, her arms hugging you tighter as she squealed and bucked sloppy a few times, accidentally cumming inside you as she humped up and shoved her cock in as deep as she could, you felt so good, she was so pussy drunk she just picked you up as you gasped and pushed you back to hold you up against a locker, your legs around her waist as she started to thrust so rough and sloppy, kissing you deeply as she panted and moaned against your lips, “Oh god, oh god- you feel so good, you feel so good- agh!”

Lottie was full on sobbing as she fucked you against the lockers, your eyes were rolling back as you moaned and were almost sobbing with her at how good she felt, your reactions only made Lottie go rougher, but she tried to slow it down to make you more comfortable, she didn’t wanna hurt you, her eyes locking down with your dripping pussy swallowing her girthy cock, her veins were throbbing to shoot another load in you again, but watching how your cum spilled out around her cock to drip on the floor and make a mess, Lottie was mesmerized, pushing all the way in before meeting your eyes and moaning, “you are so fucking pretty… please, I’m gonna cum in you again- and- and your gonna- agh- be my girlfriend and I’m gonna- Ohh fuck, I’m gonna take care of you, your shitty parents d-don’t deserve you, I-I do!” Lottie growled out as she started to thrust faster, your back was kinda hurting from the locker behind you but you were so distracted by Lotties sudden possessiveness and the way she growled, the way her cock was stretching your walls as you felt your orgasm start to crash into you, your back arching as you cried out for her, her hands going to your back to cradle you against her as she sloppily thrusted her cock up to the balls inside you, the both of you moaning out as she came inside you, stumbling back to the bench to sit down with you in her lap, the both of you sweaty and panting as she held you like your lives depended on it.

“Jesus…” Lottie breathed out, making you groan out against her shoulder, “I don’t think Jesus is anywhere near this room.” That remark got a breathless bark of laughter from Lottie as she rubbed your back and held you close, kissing your cheek with a nod and a smile. “Yeah, your probably right.”

[heartfullofleeches]

do you ever just feel like an old man browsing tumblr because youre so behind? liek everyone was fixtated on puppyboy reader and fast food reader and ALL the readers and i wasnt and now im fixtated on fast food reader while everyones now fixtated on lacey and lucy T_T

If u want to could u do a scenario where fast food reader gets kidnapped? Make it as short as u want i just wanna read smth fromyou lol

Bound and unable to move - you lay motionless on the dirty floor of some unmarked van; counting the blood splatters on the ceiling to pass the time. 32, 33, 34 - wow, these guys are really serious. Being kidnapped by hardened criminals would've gotten you a win on the bingo card of all the fucked things happen to you on the job - if you hadn't already been kidnapped twice this week. It just had to be a Friday too. Your boss will use this little encounter to drag you back in for the weekend due to "concerns for your safety" or whatever other bullshit they make up to keep you on duty. Speaking of staff - why haven't they saved you yet?

"They're too loud. Shut them up."

You're about seventy percent sure these guys aren't telepathic... It's when one of the crooks tells you they aren't that you come to the conclusion that you've been talking out loud this whole time. A faint riiip sounds from the passenger seat as the one sitting in it stands, duct tape in hand. You plant your feet against the wall, pushing yourself upright as they approach.

"Before you do this - just know the only reason you all are still alive is probably because my coworkers are placing rock paper scissors to see who gets to keep your spines. You'll honestly be lucky if you die here."

The kidnappers eyes narrow behind their mask. As their foot draws back, static coming from the radio stops them from bring it down on your chest. They turn as the driver findles with the radio as the static crackles and pops from its speakers, bashing his fist against the dashboard.

"Why won't this fucking thing turn off!"

A familiar voice overlaps with the static.

"Over come with guilt for their wrongdoings, the driver takes the gun from the glove compartment and places it against his temple - pulling the trigger. The employee closes their eyes, and keeps them closed until they are free"

Your eyes clamp shut right as the driver reaches for the glove compartment. They catch a glimpse of the man placing the gun against the side of his head - a loud bang causing you to squeeze them tighter. Chaos erupts soon after - as if there wasn't enough already. Before the surviving crooks had time to process what just happened, the entire van quakes with the reverberating boom of something large hitting it from outside. The back door is torn from its hinges, cold air seeping through like blood from a fresh wound. You hear the kidnappers raise their guns and voices in defense, weapons tumbling to the floor as as sharp metal scrapes along the walls of the van. A wet snout presses against your cheek - heavy tongue licking the sweat from your damp skin.

"I'm okay, Lambchop. The ropes are a little tight, but I'm unharmed otherwise. Please go easy on them."

The mascot snorts in response. At least you tired. Two pairs of hands pick you up off the floor of the van and drags you out as the first scream tears through the bitter night. You feel weightless as they carry you back inside and sit you down in a booth. One set of hands checks your face, hands and every exposed inch of skin for bruises or scratches. The others gentle cup your cheeks.

"Y/n, open your eyes."

"I physically can't until you untie me."

Your chest becomes lighter as the ropes fall off you. The first sight you see as you reopen your eyes is the janitor pocketing their pocket knife and the concern in the succubus' gaze as she removes her hands from your face. The Janitor is the first to speak.

"Are you okay?"

You rub at the rings around your wrist. "Probably would've had my chest caved in if the Storyteller didn't bail me out, but I'm okay now."

The janitor's hands tighten into fists. The succubus' eyes dark so deeply they turn near black, but she hides her anger behind a sweet smile.

"Well since you're okay we'd better it going. I'm sure the ball pit hands can help you relax better than you could."

"Where are you two heading?"

The janitor speaks up for her. "We're going back outside. I need to get my spines before Lambchop completely turns their bodies into paste."

[florianniss]

Trouble with Angels - RatedE, Human AU, Teenage Rebellion

It all comes to a head on the second Friday in February. The Sweetheart Dance is the following day and he’s taking Robin again. He’s got his tux and her flower and she’s looking forward to it. But Eddie has a gig, and Steve would rather die than miss it.

He’s in his usual spot on the bench, bored out of his fucking skull and listening to Robin and Chrissy do their same old thing in the bleachers. The boys are losing, again, just like they’ve been doing the whole season. Coach keeps looking at Steve like it’s his fault they’re so bad. And Steve has had enough of everything.

He ditches the team for the locker room ten seconds before halftime and hides in the stall until everyone else goes back on the court. He sneaks into the stands, still wearing his uniform, and steals a pom pom from Chrissy.

The girls blink at him, surprised for a good half a minute. Until Steve stands on the bench, rolls up the hem of his jersey, and breaks into one of the school’s cheers.

The response from the audience is a collective roar. Robin shoves her other pom at him and he does a really, really bad impression of Chrissy’s cheer. Coach doesn’t even notice until one of the guys points it out. Steve knows he’s in deep shit, but he doesn’t care. This is the most important, the most necessary he’s felt in a long, long time.

He leaves arm in arm with the girls, taking the back seat and feeling oddly refreshed at his rule breaking. He feels a sense of freedom, like a weight has been lifted from his heart. Robin catches his eye in the rearview mirror and holds it for a long minute. She is going to grill him later.

Chrissy is giddy. “Oh god, Steve. You’re gonna be in so much trouble!”

“Yeah,” Steve smiles. “It’s gonna be great.”

Steve switches to the front seat after they drop off Chrissy at her place. There are six moments of silence as they pull back onto the road.

“OK, Harrington.” There’s a bossy kind of scolding in her tone. “What’s going on with you?”

Robin grips the steering wheel as if it’s Steve’s neck. Sure, he feels a little bad about probably getting kicked off the team. But there’s something else, something that makes him feel more alive. He’s finally deciding on his own terms what he wants to do with his life.

Steve doesn’t answer right away, so Robin lands him with a threatening glare. “Something happen with you and Eddie?”

Steve laughs. How can he tell Robin that he’s so stressed about everything that he can’t get it up?

“There’s just a lot on my mind,” is what he settles on. It’s not enough for Robin.

He bites the bullet and tells her about how little he gets to really be with Eddie. Even though they’re living together and sleeping in the same cramped bed. She listens, her mouth purses and she grinds her teeth as she thinks.

“You want to go to Eddie’s thing. Don’t you.”

It’s not a question; she knows exactly what he wants.

“I’m not canceling on you.”

She snorts. It’s kinda cute. “I asked you, remember? It’s OK for you to back out.”

Steve frowns and shakes his head. “I’m not backing out on you, Robs. You’re probably the only thing keeping me sane right now.”

He means it. Robin turns to look at him, her face unreadable. 

“Well, that settles it I guess,” she says. She throws her shoulders back and raises her chin. “We’re going to watch Eddie sing. I’d much rather do that anyway.”

Neither of them tells Eddie about his midriff-baring, falsetto-shouting, basketball-bashing stunt.

Eddie is thrilled, naturally. He climbs onto the bed and jumps up and down. Dust falls from the ceiling and the bed frame slams against the wall. He adds more dents to the ones that are already there from their enthusiastic fucking.

“You’re staying with me. Robin and Chrissy can come too. I don’t give two shits what the rest of the guys say. You’ll be my VIP guests.”

It’s nothing like the last show. They park in front of a long, low building with a bar and restaurant. There are no bouncers, nobody to card them and send them away. They walk right in as if they are old enough to belong there. The anxious wobble in Steve’s chest stills a little.

The bar has no stage, just a spot reserved back in one corner. It’s dark and dank and smells of stale smoke. Steve helps Eddie set up his amps.

Eddie catches on that Steve is nervous. He shoulders him playfully as they return to the van. “I’m glad you’re here to give me support. Sometimes I have such bad stage fright I puke my guts out just before.”

Steve doesn’t know this. It shocks him a little. “Really?”

Eddie climbs in the van and hands Steve a duffle bag. His eyes are bright and shining as he emerges from the vehicle. “Yeah. It’s kinda scary having you here. Knowing you’re watching, that you’re so close to the music.”

They’re standing in the snow without any jackets. Eddie’s arms hang limp by his sides. Steve is hugging himself to keep warm.

“Sometimes music hurts my heart,” Steve says. He feels it more often now that Eddie’s attached to it. “I don’t know how to explain it. It just –”

Eddie comes in hard for a hug, pushing Steve off balance. He catches his boyfriend in a risky embrace and kisses the side of his neck.

It’s nice and soft, the skin is warm and he tastes amazing. Steve can’t wait for later, when he can taste more of him.

“I know, Steve. I know exactly what you’re talking about.” He hugs Steve as tightly as he can. “And you have no idea how fucking awesome it is that you understand.”

They break apart and head back inside. Eddie reintroduces Steve to the others, and he’s surprised to find out how chill they are. He’s still a little jealous of the one guitar player, and how close he’d gotten to Eddie on New Year’s. But things are different now; Eddie belongs to him. And isn’t that a scary thought?

The girls show up just as the band is tuning and checking sound. Robin grins and waves and Chrissy jumps up and down. Eddie has saved them a table at the front. Steve feels like the two of them are so opposite. One’s overly emotional about everything, the other is mean and brutally honest.

Steve sits on a stool behind a huge amp. He’s just a few feet away from Eddie at the front. Eddie’s told him they’re running Van Halen covers that night. Something begins to smolder inside Steve’s chest.

The whole atmosphere is different. Tables are pressed right up to the band area. Most people who file in are too busy talking to friends. The first song Eddie belts out is background music to them.

It is not that way for Steve. Eddie is his whole world. Steve sits on his stool and watches as his boyfriend puts every ounce of energy into filling his lungs and emptying them into the song.

Their version of Pound Cake is so good, Steve can hardly tell the difference from the actual artists. The drummer and guitarist and pianist are really fucking talented, and Eddie’s voice is a dead ringer for the Red Rocker’s. Steve watches each of them in turn, studying fingerings and feeling his chest thud with every downbeat. He’s so close to the bass guitarist he can feel the strings’ vibrations in his heart.

Eddie steps back and lets the soloist have his turn. He makes eye contact with Steve and eases toward his stool. He’s sweaty already, black shirt clinging to his chest and back. He holds the microphone away, leans in, and presses lips to Steve’s cheek.

“You’re so fucking hot right now!” Eddie hisses in his ear. Steve is thinking the same thing; he suddenly wants Eddie in his lap.

Steve and Eddie join the girls at the table during the break. Robin has ordered a massive plate of steak fries and they devour it in minutes. Eddie sits next to Chrissy and she rests her head on his shoulder, laughing when he attempts to shove a fistful of fries in her mouth. Steve looks on from Eddie’s other side, their feet tangled under the table and loving the hoarse laughing he’s doing. He looks over at Robin, who’s watching him with eagle eyes, making whole lists of things to talk about when they’re together next. Steve collects her and pulls her into his side. Something inside him is wholly content.

Nobody dances until after ten. Robin and Chrissy grab each other’s hands and find a space on the floor. Their hair flips in the air and they hop and grind and laugh. Steve stays at the table and sips his Coke and it’s the first time he’s considered how great they are together. 

He mentions it to Robin when she comes back for her water. Her smile becomes rigid as they both watch Chrissy dance. 

“How about if you just let me have a friend, huh? Other than you, of course. Jealous bastard.” 

Steve’s about to correct her, but some middle-aged dude moves in on Chrissy, tipsy and a little handsy. He thinks Robin is about to charge at him, and Steve prepares to do it before her, but Eddie steps in, all Smooth Operator. He scoops Chrissy away and twirls her against his chest. He doesn’t miss a beat, just adds “My girl,” to the lyrics. The look of relief on Chrissy’s face does something to Steve’s gut. Eddie’s dark, suggestive eyes do something to his dick.

Steve dances to one song before he can’t take it anymore. Eddie throws an arm around his neck, all chummy. He smells incredible and he’s so beautiful like this, all confidence and magnetic energy. Steve’s stomach does the familiar loop-de-loop and he wants to do disgusting things with him.

The microphone is shoved in Steve’s face and everyone is watching and it’s not that he can’t sing or that he’s afraid of the spotlight. It’s that Eddie is touching him in public in a friendly way and it’s not fucking fair.

Afterward, Robin threatens to tell Eddie about the cheerleading incident if he doesn’t pull the stick out of his ass. She knows violent threats don’t work, so she reverts to blackmail. Steve paints on a stellar smile and talks to the group of girls at the next table. He gives it everything he has because Eddie is watching him with those big, brown, ‘I wanna fuck you’ eyes.

Oh, and does Steve want to get fucked!

The band quits at midnight and a DJ takes over. Steve sits at the bar with Eddie and his bandmates and gets ruthlessly teased about how Eddie insisted on playing a certain song because it’s Steve’s song.

Eddie hides his face, embarrassed, when Steve asks which one it is. 

“I’ll tell you in the van.”

They can’t leave soon enough. 

Eddie puts the girls in Robin’s car and sees them off while Steve starts the van to warm it up. He gets out of the driver’s side to allow Eddie in, but his boyfriend is grinning with something up his sleeve.

“Let’s go to Skull Rock. You drive.”

Skull Rock. The place Eddie took them to on his birthday. Where they fooled around for the first time. And were almost busted by Hopper.

Eddie’s hand is grappling with Steve’s dick before he even puts the vehicle in drive. He’s groping Steve through his jeans, smirking like he’s definitely got something planned. Steve’s so happy to be alone with him and the potential for unclothed sex that he goes off the road a little.

Luckily the pavement is dry, and when he swerves, they don’t make a shitty and end up sideways in the ditch. By the time he turns onto the highway, Eddie’s got his zipper down and is mouthing at his underwear. Biting and sucking and growling like he’s some wild animal.

Steve glances down at the sweat-drenched back of Eddie’s neck and makes a pathetic whimpering noise. His boyfriend chuckles and mumbles something hot through the material onto his cock.

“What did you say?”

Steve is holding his breath to better hear him. It’s not lasting very long.

“I said,” Eddie grins as he pulls back and palms him harshly again. “You’re sexy when you’re jealous.”

He returns to assaulting him by mouth and Steve remembers what Robin said about him being jealous.

“I’m not jealous!”

Eddie makes a muffled sound and sticks his finger through the useless slit in Steve’s underwear. He finds the ridge of Steve’s dick head and scrapes a nail over it.

“I saw you looking at me and Chrissy.”

Steve begins to protest but Eddie shoves his hand down his underwear and pinches off his cock at the tip to shut him up. It’s a high-pitched, cut-off screech he makes in response.

“Not saying that I mind,” his boyfriend explains. He’s tugging Steve out of his shorts now and staring at his exposed dick like he’s starving. “Look what it’s done to your dipstick here, Baby.”

Steve almost misses his turn. He has to slam on the brakes to make it.

Eddie starts blowing him, and Steve is worried he’ll lose consciousness. He feels drunk and high and stupid, even though he’s got dibs on only one of those. He barely makes it into the parking area, slamming it into park, when Eddie announces his real intentions.

His lips are wet and red and kissable as all fuck, and he’s damn near piercing a hole in Steve’s heart with those lashes. “I think we should change things up. I think you should fuck me.”

Eddie doesn’t wait for Steve’s jaw to drop or Steve’s heart to leap into his throat before he’s hopping out of the van and slamming the door shut. 

It takes Steve a horrible moment before he realizes, by the hooting and hollering, that Eddie is stripping outside in the cold. He pushes his dick back inside his underwear and jumps out, hurrying to Eddie’s side before he does something he’ll regret.

“Are you sure?” Steve shouts as Eddie ditches his shoes. His shirt is already gone, and his back is steaming; little streams of smoke rise from his body in the glow of the van’s exterior lights (Steve left the van running).

“Whoo!” Eddie shouts. He’s in his socks and jeans now. He rushes to open the sliding door and climbs on up, zipper undone and ass half hanging out already.

Steve watches as Eddie collapses on the floor and struggles out of his jeans. The sleeping bags are already prepped. How Steve missed that is a mystery to him. Eddie’s eyes flash up and he’s being a little seductive shit about it. Steve is actually going to die.

“Steve!” he cries before flipping over and getting on his knees. His balls are bright red against the soft white flesh of his thighs. Eddie scoots and sways until he’s full-on presenting his ass. He gives it a wiggle. Steve’s still standing outside.

“It’s freezing, Harrington! Get inside and close the door. We don’t want old Hopper catching us doing the nasty with it open!”

Steve obeys but doesn’t know how he does it. The door slides closed behind him and he’s sliding out of his jacket. On his knees this close he can see the dark slice of crack between Eddie’s butt cheeks. It’s suddenly the most terrifying thing ever.

He swallows hard and shuffles out of his shoes. Eddie backs into him so fast that Steve is forced to put a hand on his ass. It’s warm and soft, just like it always is. But it has a different importance to him now, now that he’s thinking about it.

Steve has thought about it. There would be something wrong if he hadn’t. He’s never had anal with anyone, and it’s definitely on his sex bucket list. The fact that Eddie is willing and ready, pulling one cheek to the side and thrusting himself even further back, has Steve practically panting for it. He wants. Oh, he fucking wants.

“Come on, Handsome. I’m prepped and wet for you. All you gotta do is slide inside.”

The skipping of his heart makes Steve gasp. “Whattya mean you’re –”

He stops. He has a good idea of now of why Eddie spent so much time in the bathroom before they left. Steve just thought he needed to take a really bad –

“Fuck.” 

Steve’s thumb slides of its own accord into the shaded cleft of that round piece of perfection. Eddie is still moving, still arching his back and flaunting his hole like he’s desperate. His ass jiggles under Steve’s hand. It’s sexy as hell.

“Flip on that light so you can see.” Eddie cranes his neck back to indicate the overhead switch. The slink of his neck is the most beautiful thing in the world.

“But, won’t someone see us outside?”

Eddie turns away and reaches between his legs to grasp for Steve. He fingers the looseness of Steve’s shorts, grazing his dick and sending a full-body shiver through him.

“Nah, they ain’t seeing nothing with the curtains pulled. Now, hurry up! I’m shriveling up here and I want to come too.”

Jeezus, Steve can’t keep it all together. He pulls his jeans and underwear down below his ass and hisses as his dick springs back at him. He’s fucking hard and he’s fucking horny, and once the light is snapped on he can see exactly what Eddie’s doing. His asshole is winking and his taint is right there, and Eddie’s stroking himself off and –

“Shit.”

Steve panics because he doesn’t have a condom, but Eddie is fumbling around inside the sleeping bag for it. He comes up with a square package, which he slips back to Steve, and then he’s up on his knees and he’s so very close.

“Hi,” Eddie says playfully, leaning back to kiss Steve’s mouth. His confidence is intoxicating. So is the way he’s dumping cold lube onto his fingers and rubbing them back and forth to warm them.

“Hi.” Steve’s breathless. He’s trying so hard to get himself wrapped that his hands are shaking from the strain.

Eddie resumes his face-down ass-up position, but now he’s touching himself. Two wet fingers are pushing and disappearing inside himself, over and over and over.

When he pulls out, Steve can see quite clearly the pretty pink flower of a hole, shiny. He gives up on the condom and copies Eddie, pushing his thumb inside as slowly as he can.

Eddie lets out a long, content sigh. “Good boy,” he moans. Steve feels his excitement skyrocket. How Eddie manages to completely wreck Steve while bottoming is – well, it’s — it’s –

Steve reaches for his dick with both hands and finally, finally gets it rolled down. Just the little bit of touching he’s been doing has him throbbing and erect. He reaches for Eddie’s hipbone to brace himself, then gathers his cock in his fist. Eddie makes an impatient noise, and Steve presses in.

It’s like fucking into a vice grip, like a trap, punishing and stubborn. Steve gets himself lined up, thumb supporting his cock head, and has to stop to breathe. He leans into where Eddie’s rosebud hole is all tensed and convulsing. The feeling is fucking amazing.

“Holy shit,’ Eddie whispers. He tugs hard on his cock, then palms and pulls both balls out of the way. His thighs are spread wide and Steve can see the tiny quivering striations in the dim amber light.

Steve doesn’t know what to say. The condom does little to dampen the sensations. He can feel every little movement of Eddie’s body as he holds it in place. If he’s not careful, if he doesn’t temper his emotions, he’s going to ruin his orgasm.

“Easy, Babe,’ Eddie encourages, like he fucking knows what’s happening in Steve’s mind. “You’re not gonna hurt me. Christ, before you came along, I was riding dildos daily.”

Steve isn’t in charge of the sound he makes, but Eddie chuckles softly. It vibrates through him, through his hole, around the tip of Steve’s dick and it’s so good.

It’s Eddie who moves next, who eases back against the tension. It’s Eddie who pushes hard until everything gives way and Steve’s inside.

“Yeah. God yeah.”

Steve looks down at himself, at the point where the redness of his dick meets the crimson of Eddie’s cunt. It’s gorgeous. Steve can’t believe he’s really getting to do this.

It gets better, though, when Eddie grasps blindly for Steve’s dick, until his fingers are wrapped around and he’s pulling, pulling, pulling. The glide inside sends shooting pains through Steve’s pelvis, pains so good he could almost cry. And he wonders if Eddie feels this good when he fucks Steve.

“Baby. Sweetheart. Steve.” Eddie moans until Steve is all the way inside. Sweat is beginning to form on his lower back again.

“I got you,” Steve hums because it’s something Eddie says to him. “Christ, Ed. I’m not gonna last. Can you feel me twitching already?”

Eddie hums too. “Mmm, yeah, that’s nice. It’s OK, you know. You come whenever you’re ready.”

Steve takes a deep breath and gives an exploratory tug. Eddie’s skin drags slowly along, puckering out as Steve’s cock does the same. He doesn’t pull out completely. Doesn’t think he can. It’s warm and tight and he’s thrusting and Eddie’s moaning. 

“Faster. Harder,” Eddie says, and it’s damn near begging. What else can Steve do but exactly what Eddie says?

It gets away from him, the building pressure. He loses control of his own decisions. Before long, he’s fucking Eddie until his knees move across the sleeping bag, and Eddie has to brace against the window on the opposite side.

“Fuck, Steve.” Eddie’s tight.

“Oh, god.” Everything’s so very tight.

“Come on, Baby. Come.” Like a pressure cooker venting steam, Steve’s about to explode.

Eddie’s whole body jolts as Steve thrusts into him. The loose skin on his ass and his back move with every insertion, with every pullback. And although Steve tries to stay focused, to remain there with Eddie, his eyes close and he slams into Eddie and comes so hard his throat hurts.

Eddie, the bastard, immediately sits back in Steve’s lap. One hand grips Steve’s thigh tightly, and the other rips over his massive dick. Steve looks over his shoulder, wraps both arms about him, and gets to watch Eddie spray fucking everywhere.

“Fuck.” It’s beautiful, Steve’s elated high, like he’s just run a race, like he’s won a race, and Eddie’s his fucking prize.

Chests heaving, exhausted from bearing down, they hold the awkward embrace. Steve smiles when he realizes he got his wish; Eddie in his lap.

And then Eddie starts singing.

“How do I know when it’s love? I can’t tell you but it lasts forever.” 

“How does it feel when it’s love? It’s just something that you feel together.” 

Steve doubles down on his bear hug and kisses Eddie’s sweaty neck. “I fucking love you too.”

He can tell Eddie’s smiling. He continues to hum the tune as Steve rocks him. All the blood is leaving his dick and he’s just about to slip out.

Steve tells Eddie what happened. “Think I got kicked off the basketball team.”

His boyfriend inhales and exhales heavily. “Did you do that on purpose so we could have more time together?”

“No –!”

Steve stops. It’s exactly what he did. He sabotaged it. On purpose. For Eddie.

When Eddie speaks again his voice is determined. Like he's found something he was looking for and there isn't anyone who can stop him.

“Hey, Steve? I know you’re stressed, and I want to help. And I have an idea to give us more time. Would it be alright with you if I quit the band?”

AO3

[mrsarnasdelicious]

Mommah's Birthday Bash - Day 9

"Don't keep me waiting." Jon calls out. "Can't you employ some semblance of patience?" You reply from behind the changing screen. "Not when it comes to you." You hear him get up from the bed. He comes around the changing screen. "Let me help you." He murmurs. "I'm almost done." You reply. "You are taking too long." He argues gently.

His fingers are on the fastenings of your bodice at once. "Have a care with it." You tell him. "No." Jon shakes his head. He firmly pulls your bodice open, though he does not tear the fastenings. He seems to know what he is doing. Your dress falls to the ground. "No smalls, no shift. You are ..." Jon mutters. But he does not finish his sentence, instead kneeling before you.

He opens his mouth and grabs you by the hips. You gasp softly. "Jon, what-" You stammer. But your words die on your tongue, turning into moans as Jon pulls you closer, his mouth closing on your cunt. Your fingers tangle into his curls. "Wha-wha-?" You begin to question, but Jon sucks down on your clit and you can only squeal. "Oh! Oh Gods!" You cry out. .

He brings one hand up your thigh, parting your folds and slowly pushing two digits into you. You moan loudly in reaction.

He works you with his mouth and his fingers until all your muscles are tense and ready to spring. But then he pulls away. He stands and sweeps you off your feet. "To the bed with you." He growls. "Will you fuck me?" You mewl. Jon nods. "But first I will make you cum." He says.

He lays you down on the bed and crawls on top of you. His cockhead rubs against your skin, already wet with precum. You reel him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. Jon moans loudly into your mouth.

The kiss does not last long, though, for he quickly sinks between your thighs again. His mouth is on you before you can voice a word of protest. He lavished, moaning all the while, until you are all but cumming in his mouth. "Please, Jon, please!" You moan. Once more, he presses two fingers into you. He arches both digits, hitting that very specific spot inside you.

You cum, hard, all over Jon's face. He groans and licks you clean.

"Now I will fuck you." He says huskily, crawling back on top of you. "Y-yes please." You whisper breathlessly, You are still tingling from your climax and your inner walls feel swollen. You are so ready for his cock. You help him line up. Jon groans from you just touching his cock. He is needy, too.

He pushes into you, slowly, breathing heavily. You moan with every inch he shoves into you. It is so good to have him inside you. It feels completing. Jon bottoms out, the head of his cock against your cervix. "So good." You whisper. You pull him into a greedy kiss. You moan in unison, your tongues dancing.

Jon sets a slow, deep pace. Almost all the way out and all the way in. The head of his cock kisses your cervix every time. You moan out loud every time.

"G-gods." Jon gasps.

He picks up some speed eventually. Lewd sounds start rising from your union. You moan together and share sloppy kisses. You rake your nails over his back and pinch at his arse. "So good, so .. Gods so good." He groans, burrying his face in the crook of your neck. "Yes, yes, so good, my love." You agree.

"Gods... I'm going to ... oh fuck." Jon groans after a good while. "Yes, Jon, yes! Fuck me pregnant!" You moan. Jon halts. "Are you sure?" He asks firmly. Life as a bastard has left a lot of ingrained fear in him. "Yes, yes, I want to give you sons and daughters." You mewl. You know his reservations, but you are not worried. You know you will manage. "I'll be your wife. Our children will not be bastards." You promise him. Jon kisses you fiercely. You see this as confirmation.

You dig your heel into the flesh of his arse.

"Now cum in me." You all but demand. "I .. I will." Jon grunts. He picks up speed, pistoning into you. You gasp upon every time he slams into you. He is chasing his climax. And by the Gods does it feel good. "Cum for me, cum in me." You urge him on. "Almost." He says breathlessly. There are muscles twitching in his face and his thrusts begin to falter. You kiss at his jaw. "I need it." You whine.

Jon groans loudly. He comes to a full halt as he spends himself inside you. You whimper at the sensation.

Jon's orgasm subsides swiftly, but he does not pull out. Instead he shoves a hand between his pelvis and yours. His thumb finds your clit. You gasp as he begins to rub. "You cum too." He murmurs. You moan loudly for him. He is so good to you.

[anachronistic-falsehood]

i dont wanna go to work i dont wanna go to work i dont wanna go to work im stressed and i dont get a day off until the 17th and im in pain and ill have to get blood work done in a few weeks and idk how to do that without a blood work sheet from my doctor but im supposed to get it done before i see my doctor so idk what to do there and my kidney still fucking hurts and im gonna be alone in the house for two nights starting on thursday and what if my uti isn't gone by the time my meds are done and what if it goes septic or something while im home alone and i cant get myself to a hospital and i die and anyway i wont be able to sleep well for the next few days because my dogs get nervous without my parents around so im going to be tired for the next few days and i still have to work through all of it and i want to throw something and bash my head against a wall

[trappedwriter]

Chapter 23

Content Warning, this is intended for people that are 18+ and this chapter includes ddlg themes (always forced age regression) abdl themes, graphic violence, kidnapping, swearing, cannibalism, mentions alcohol. If I left anything out, let me know.

Chris’s POV

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! What am I going to do? Maybe it won’t be too bad? Maybe he’ll forgive me. Although I lied to him about her once before. Fuck! I thought as I paced around my living room. Beads of sweat were dripping down my face. Real panic started to kick in, I felt my breath catch in my throat and my heart begin to race. What was he going to do with her, and me? We’d only just started the perfect family and then this. I knew I should have hidden her when Jessica was here. I can’t be mad at her though, I never told her to not mention anything to Seb. She didn’t know.

I stopped pacing by the front door, sucked in a deep breath for confidence and headed over to their house. I didn’t bother knocking, he was waiting for me. Sure, enough he was on the couch, exactly where I left him. “Oh! Forget something babe?” He mocked. I closed the door and immediately the confidence left my body. I started to ramble “It’s not what it looks like, I loved her but now I only love Jessica. And you, I love both of you. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” He said nothing just let me ramble on.

“I promise I’ll do anything, please don’t kill me. I don’t care if you kill her. She means nothing to me.” He gave me a serious look “Ok.” He said. “Ok?” I repeated. “Yes Chris, ok. I won’t kill you. Fortunately for you, I also love our family. Things are finally as they should be. I won’t let her ruin this. I will spare your life. What you’re going to do is take our little one to your place and you will stay there with her until I’m done.” He said with a stern expression. “What are you going to do?” I asked. “That’s none of your concern now.”

I didn’t want to question him again. I’m grateful that I’m still alive. If it wasn’t for Jessica, I would be dead. Without wasting anytime, I went to her nursery and gently picked her up. Seb was still in the living room, he kissed her on the forehead before I left. I laid her down on our bed but didn’t join her. There was no way I could go to sleep. Back in the kitchen, I poured myself a generous glass of whiskey, plopped down on the couch and waited. ——

Sebastian’s POV

I headed down the basement stairs with the plan to kill our former little girl, once and for all. I flipped on the switch to the single warm light that revealed the small girl in her cage. It was like history was repeating itself. I pulled over the chair from the desk and sat down in front of her. She sat there, naked and curled up on herself. Sobs escaped her mouth. She finally looked up at me “Dada, please….” I stood up quickly and bashed my hand against the top of the cage, causing the girl to flinch back in fear. “Don’t you fucking call me that.”

I turned around and grabbed a knife from the table “Here’s what’s going to happen Rebecca, you’re going to die a slow and painful death. And then we’re going to eat you.” Her eyes went wide. “Yes, you heard me. All those playthings we brought home, all got fucked and eaten. You even ate them too.” Her face went deathly pale, and she puked emptying her stomach and dry heaving when there was nothing left. The sight disgusted me. Just another reason why I love Jessica, she accepted our secret. She loved it too. Bored, I started to open her cage, I grabbed her and dragged her to the cuffs on the wall. She begged and struggled, but that made it more fun. I always loved it when they tried to plead their way out of what was coming.

But it was time for her to learn that there was nothing she could say to stop me, I took the knife and ripped it across her inner thigh causing a nice deep slice in my once favourite place. Her leg kicked and jerked, but it couldn’t escape my knife. She let out a shriek of pain, a sound I was well used to though for some reason it didn’t spark that same joy that it normally did. Snot ran down her nose and onto her mouth, and tears streaked down her cheeks. Looking at her face I was filled with pity, but I clenched down on the feeling with an iron grip and steeled myself to take another swing, when she confessed. “I still love you.” I chuckled “love me? How pathetic. If you love me then why did you do it, why did you run away?” I questioned. “I… I.” “Can’t even come up with a good answer?” “I was hurt, I didn’t leave because I didn’t love you and Daddy. You hurt me, I thought you didn’t love me anymore. You loved your plaything more than me. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you broke my heart. Marc promised me a movie night, that’s why I left. I always loved you and always will.”

I lowered the knife and took in what she said. She continued “Daddy knows everything, that’s why he kept me. He knows I love him too and he… loved me back.” So, this was why he kept her. I knew that night I went a little overboard with my dirty talk, but I didn’t know how much it affected her. Thinking about that night and finding out that she left shattered my heart. A single tear fell down my face. I turned around quickly so that she didn’t see it and wiped it away. Memories flooded back to all the fun times I had with Bunny. A smile grew on my face. Did I still have feelings for her? She was my pick after all. I only let Chris think that he picked her. But she was mine, she was my Bunny. But I have Jessica now, it couldn’t work, could it?

I pulled out my phone and texted him.

We need to talk!

——

Chris’s POV

I was just about to finish the bottle of whiskey when I got the text. He didn’t take too long. Knowing Sebastian and how he felt towards Bunny especially after she left us, I thought he would hive her a slow painful death. I had been crying, although I have Jessica now. Bunny was mine. I picked her, I loved her and now she’s dead. Dripping blood on the concrete floor in his basement. Her death was meaningful. She wasn’t like the other ones. We bonded and even though I told her I didn’t love her, it was a lie. I love both of them.

Seb came bursting through my door, tears streaming down his face. I gave him a confused look. Standing before me was the big bad cop, known for being hard (not in that way) and basically never showed any emotions. And now he’s crying about her. I embraced him and let him cry onto my shoulder “It’s okay, it’s over now.” I consoled him. Very quietly he said “I couldn’t do it. I hurt her, broke her heart. I caused this.” I pulled him back “she’s not dead?” “No, why didn’t you tell me? All of this trouble could have been avoided.” “To be honest, I was scared what you would to do me.” Seb chuckled “I love you too much to hurt you, you big ole goof ball.”

We sat on the couch and talked things over. “We could make this work, maybe. How did Jessica get on with Bunny?” Seb asked. “Well… Bunny was being cold to her, obviously not liking the fact that we replaced her with a new little girl. But I think she can be put into place, with some reinforcement and punishments if needed.” Seb took my hands in his, looked me straight in the eyes and said “I want you and Bunny to move in.”

Chapter 24 - Christmas Special

[sillymeter]

tbh i have no fucking idea what im gonna do if my disability doesnt get accepted. im gonna age out of medicaid medicare whatever the fuck i have i dont know & i dont know how ill ever afford my meds i take so many. they're already tightasses about whether or not i REALLY need my medication

i hate it i hate it everyone who has ever denied someone medicine should be tortured to death may every company die horribly may everyone getting rich off of poor people's medical needs get their head bashed against a wall until they die

[maikry]

Reven - The Last Night

When the ship docked, the first place she found herself was the local tavern.

It was a sailor tradition: drink and fuck as much as you can until your money is gone or your next contract is picked up. Those of the sea were a staple of any port city’s economy, and though Reven was now no longer a sailor, she still found herself winding down the familiar route to her own merriment. Her revenge had waited this long; another night would do her no harm.

Reven stood against the wall as she sipped her ale, glancing among the other patrons. Some of her most recent crew were in the same tavern as well, grouped together at a table nearby and regaling the tales of their last journey to drunkards and prostitutes alike, hoping the tale was worth a free drink or discounted lay.

Still, she smiled at their stories, exaggerated though they were.

"You’re full of shit." She finally cut in when Paulor, a middle-aged man with a bald head and black and rotting teeth, claimed that they had survived an encounter with a giant water beast. 

Paulor whipped around to see who dared call him a liar. When he saw it was Reven, his body relaxed and he held up his ale. The men and women around him who had briefly tensed began laughing and chuckling as they realized that there would be no brawl. Paulor began his own loud chortling along with them, already flushed from the alcohol he had consumed.

"Ah, there she is! Calling out an old man on a day of rest." Paulor turned to address the table. His tone and countenance were like that of a small child regaling the legend of their favorite hero, courtesy of his drunken state. "Reven. This woman commands the rigs. She can climb to the top of a ship in seconds. In the middle of a storm where ya can’t tell your ass from your hand, too."

This time, Reven made no effort to correct the man. 

With reactions at the table split between gasps of bewilderment and rolling eyes of disbelief, Reven bowed lightly to the group. 

"You humble me, Paulor." The merriment quickly continued, leaving Reven behind to watch from afar. Though she didn’t mind. She never truly fit in with the sailors she worked with. Sailing was her uncle's trade. And when her parents were killed by escaped aberrants, she was thrust into a life at sea with him. He was the only family she had left, and he was a kind man.

She had already said her goodbyes to him at the docks. It was time to fight the beasts that killed her family. She was ready.

Reven had spent years learning any skill set that would benefit her in battle. Sparring, sword-fighting, climbing the rigs—it was all for the purpose of one day traveling to Eirid to become an ameliorate. To fight the same monsters that killed her parents. To live and die by an honorable code and help to end the wars that plagued the nations.

But she wasn’t an ameliorate yet. She was an ex-sailor. And she needn’t worry about honor.

Glancing around the room, Reven caught the gaze of a woman sitting at a table.

She approached confidently, ale in hand. The woman was slim with red curls that were pinned to her head with wooden dowels. Her skin looked fair and soft, never knowing a day of physical labor in the unforgiving sun. As she got closer, the woman gave the smallest hint of a grin on the edges of her ruby lips.

"Milady, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say I had caught your attention over there." Reven bowed to the woman, scooping her hand tenderly and placing a kiss on the back of it. "My name is Reven. Might I have the pleasure of knowing what to call you?"

The woman glanced from Reven’s wrapped hands to her sunkissed face, a small look of shock and bashfulness hiding the smirk from before.

"Cozette." She blinked away her surprise. Reven took a seat next to her.

"Your beauty rivals the sea, Cozette." Reven said, shaking her head and taking another drink. "What brings you here, if you don’t mind my asking?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I am a secretary for a wealthy lord’s house. I come here sometimes looking for a little stress relief from the job. A place where nobody knows your name and people come and go."

"That does make this place attractive, I suppose." Reven tipped her ale back, taking a swig.

"And you," Cozette turned to face Reven, leaning in closer to whisper her question. "Did I hear that you’re a sailor?"

"I was." Reven nodded. 

The woman’s smile grew. "You must tell me of your adventures."

So Reven did. Retelling the stories that Paulor had told—adding her own flourishments, of course—and telling new ones. She told Cosette of the time they crossed through a pirate fleet, when she swam to save a man overboard, and the culture and beauties of all the ports at shore. For an hour or so, Reven talked.

And with every passing story, the two got a little closer on their bench. Reven’s hand made its way to Cozette’s knee, her other discarding the empty stein onto the table. Cozette’s foot had begun sliding up the fabric of Reven’s trouser leg. The couple glanced into each other’s eyes, Reven trailing off from a story about a seagull being loose below deck. Reven leaned in slowly and brushed her lips onto the woman’s, relieved when Cozette returned the kiss.

They sat there for a moment with their lips entwining, finding new ways to come together and apart. Reven’s free hand went to Cozette’s face, finding that her cheek was as soft as her lips. 

Finally, Reven pulled back.

"Perhaps," Reven’s hand trailed from the knee before giving a gentle squeeze to Cozette’s thigh. "I could tell you more of my tales somewhere a bit more private, milady."

Cozette grinned slyly, her face flushed red beneath her freckles. "I would like that."

The breathlessness of the woman in front of her nearly made Reven melt. Instead, however, she carefully untangled from the woman and offered her arm like a proper gentleman. Cozette took it and allowed Reven to help her from her seat, Raven’s fingers rubbing against the woman’s soft hand as they walked toward a private room.

As they climbed the stairs, Reven caught the gaze of Paulor at his table down below. He gave her a knowing smile and raised his glass, laughing loudly. A final goodbye acknowledgement. One last night of being from the sea. One last rowdy encounter before her life of service and work began.

With a giggling maiden on her arm, Reven stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

[winternimbus]

i'm actually going to walk into an active meat grinder. i dropped 600 USD + 100 from my mom for a prebuilt tower PC from ebay my friends had forwarded me to. the tower PC came in today! that should be a good thing, right? it's not. the tower PC arrived w/ shit rattling inside of it, there was a decent portion of parts that were dislodged inside the tower--what i assume is the heatsink was detached completely w/ the thermal paste attached! i wanted to see if we could set it back up, but my mom and her stepfather were deadset on returning it--after my mom snarkily snapped at me and told me "winter your friends are wrong we're right you should've listened to us teehee! :)" how the fuck were my friends and i supposed to know that it would arrive to my house like this? so now i'm down 700 until my mom's stepfather, my mom, and i get it back. and who knows how much we will get back because it's a fucking crapshoot! and i'm worried that "for fuck's sake will my laptop break on me AGAIN within that period of time?" i have already scoped out a new computer but like. oh my good fucking lord i want to bash my head against a wall until i keel over and die

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Some Jameson with mobility aids to ease the struggles of hobbling around on crutches?

-whumpingwithaquestionableauthor

@whumpingwithaquestionableauthor, I am not sure this is what you were hoping for, but I hope it works!

-

Just like all my others, Robert sneers, raising the hammer. You'll die right down here. Just like them. But first... let me show you what comes first.

He brings the hammer down.

Jameson's eyes fly open even as he falls off the bed with blankets twisted around his legs, gasping as his shoulder smacks into the floor. Pain radiates from his knees, the kind of ache that makes him sick, and his stomach twists as he rolls onto his stomach, pressing his forehead against the floor.

A hammer. He's seen Robert bash a woman's knees with a hammer, listened to the screaming coming up from the basement until it didn't anymore.

He can feel Robert's fingers in his hair and shudders, but that hurts even worse and he bites down on one hand, burying his teeth in the thin skin between thumb and forefinger until it bleeds to muffle his cries.

Nat's asleep in the attic, Vince somewhere down the hall. He won't wake them. He won't have them see him look like this.

He won't.

"Come on, motherfucker, get up-"

But his legs don't listen to his demands at all. Tears burn hot and have to be forced away with eyes clenched tightly shut.

The soft thump of Trash Cat leaping down precedes the feel of soft fur against his temple. He looks up, just enough to see, and she rubs against his shoulder with the side of her little face, purring like a tiny freight train.

"Sorry," He gasps. He pushes himself up onto his elbows in the dark, the only light the thinnest diffusion from a street lamp outside the neighbor's, shining blueish through the window. "Sorry, can't-... Shit-"

He slams his fist down against the floor, breathing shallowly, trying to settle the pain enough to think. Trash Cat sits back on her haunches and watches him, blinking slowly, as if observing some scientific experiment with calm consideration.

He has to nearly army crawl by his elbows along the floor, his legs bent at the knees dragging nearly uselessly behind him. Next to his bedroom door, though, are his crutches. Leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

"Fucking thank you," He mutters, but he has to get himself up to use them. Unless... He knocks at one with one hand and catches it as it falls, using it to brace himself to sit up, first. Rolling over sends fresh waves of agony rippling up his thighs and down even to his fucking toes.

He wishes, with a brief vicious intensity, that Robert was still alive so he could kill him again, but slower this time.

Then he grabs the other crutch, and between both of them and the wall providing balance, he manages to pull himself to his feet with only a few whimpers to give away how much it hurts.

The hobble down the hall to the bathroom isn't less painful, but it's easier, and he's getting the hang of these things now. He moves almost fluidly, even hurting this badly.

He makes his way into the bathroom and leans his weight on one crutch while the other digs through a medicine cabinet until he finally a prescription bottle, rattling pills inside. A fake name on the front door the fake person the prescriptions are written for.

"Cheers, Mark Jackson, whoever you are," He says, swallowing a pill dry and then chasing it with water cupped in his palm from the sink.

A tiny paw forces its way under the door. Trash Cat meows plaintively from the other side.

"Sssshhhh!" Jameson groans but she meows again, heedless to his urge for her to stay quiet. She scratches under the door, paw curling until she gets the angle just right. Then he listens to her bump the door with her head. It opens slowly and she saunters in, easy as you please, tail a curious question mark behind her.

"You're an asshole," He tells her. She blinks once, slowly. "Yeah... I am too, I guess." He only needs one crutch this time to move to the door to close it again, then back to the bathtub. When he turns the handle, water pours from the faucet, and Trash Cat's ears briefly flicker back as she watches.

"Oh, fuck off, baths help til the pill kicks in and you know it."

She turns to lick delicately at one paw.

"That's what I fucking thought," He mutters, feeling somehow like she won this battle and he isn't sure why. The water slowly warms, until it's hot enough to nearly scald. He sets the stopper and waits for it to fill, leaning on his crutch while he shimmies out of his boxers, works one arm out of his shirt. Switches to the other side, finally pulling the stupid shirt off entirely.

He leans the crutch carefully against the bathtub.

He falls more than settles into the hot water, graceless and with a grunt of pain. But then he sits his back against one side, legs still bent but finally, finally slowly straightening out, inch by inch.

The heat soothes the ache, turning it to a throb he can handle, a pain he can still think around.

He sighs, a long exhale that feels like triumph, and waits for the painkiller to kick in before he goes back to bed... hoping he doesn't fall asleep in the tub again.

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

I mean this from a place of genuine concern for you/other ppl who are all into DSMP because it is interesting content, but perhaps it is time to start looking for other content to consume and support. At this point the narrative is at best ignorant and at worst actively malicious and the content creators are simply actively malicious as well, and it can’t be healthy to be trying to find enjoyment out of content that is just harmful and hurtful. It’s worrying that people are following this out of support for the creators and being fed abuse rhetoric on top of all the other problems w the creators themselves.

I know it’s hard and feels impossible to change fixations but if it is that severe, this could be the time to talk to a therapist or a professional about other coping mechanisms to divert your attention elsewhere, since this content not only hurts others but also yourself. I hope you can take care, and not blame yourself for what has happened and also work towards being in a better headspace for yourself!

like fucking what? nothing else helped me through figuring out my own trauma and helped me figure out who i was and feel comfortable in my own skin. nothing helped me stop blaming myself and wanting to hurt myself and fucking die. nothing else helped quieten my intrusive thoughts and let me be creative and learn. i've HAD fucking other hyperfixations and special interests before but not like this. the dsmp helped me out of a hole i couldn’t otherwise escape from. it saved my fucking life. what the fuck am i meant to do now. just throw all that out? maybe i fucking deserved this. maybe i should just FUCKING grow up and stop being such a piece of shit. maybe i should bash my head against the wall until the evil leaves. idk

[chudleycanonficfest]

For Good

Day 5, Story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: For Good Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Ron & Harry Prompt: Brother from another mother / Song Fic Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): A small amount of peril

They should have known the fight wasn’t going to go their way when they entered the warehouse, but determined to prove their skills as newly graduated Aurors, Harry and Ron barrelled ahead anyway. And now, only ten minutes later, the chaos of the fight is overwhelming them.

Five rogue Death Eaters have backed them into a corner. The rest of the Auror team are here, somewhere, but despite Harry’s loud pleas, nobody comes to save them.

Harry’s heart pounds in his chest as he clutches hold of his best friend. Curses whoosh above their heads, crashing into the stone wall behind them. The taste of dust from the rubble dries his mouth. There has only ever been one other time he’s felt like this, desperate and out of his depth, and he died then, too. 

He is expecting the outcome of this fight to be the same.

There’s so much Harry still has to do. He doesn’t want to die yet. Harry wants children and the chance to have a family with the woman he loves. He hasn’t waited nervously at the top of an aisle for Ginny’s appearance in a white dress to take his breath away. Heck, he hasn’t even had a chance to propose. There are still rooms in their new cottage that they have yet to christen.

It’s too soon. The redhead beside Harry cringes against the wall. Ron still has his whole life ahead of him too.

A purple curse hits Harry square in the chest, stealing the last of the breath from his lungs. His body grows rigid, but his cry echoes around them.

Ron calls out, shielding his friend with his own body as he clutches Harry’s dirty robes. “Harry! No!” 

“Ron,” Harry croaks. “What’s happening?”

“Stay with me, Harry. You’re going to be okay.”

The room around them is growing dark. This is the end.

“I just want to say thank you, Ron. For everything. You didn’t have to be my friend that first day on the Hogwarts Express, but you took me on and let me be a part of your family. And then, you even allowed me to date Ginny.”

“I don’t think—”

Harry can’t let his best friend interrupt this, not when there are so many important things he needs to say before he breathes his last breath. “I just want you to know.” He inhales deeply, coughing as a cloud of dust fills his lungs. “B-because I knew you, I have been changed for good.”

A hack takes over his body, burning his throat as he fights with his last grasp on consciousness. The light dims, so Harry chooses to focus on Ron’s deep ocean blue eyes staring back at him, concern pouring out of them as they sparkle with tears.

And then Harry sees no more.

⁂

Warmth shines on Harry’s face. Nothing hurts, and none of the usual thoughts troubles him. 

Everything is good.

When he first opens his eyes, he expects to see King’s Cross station and Headmaster Dumbledore waiting to ask Harry if he wants to move on or stay behind. Harry’s not sure if he’d like to be a ghost. He hasn’t had much time to think about it, which is quite peculiar for a man who always seems to be on the edge of death. He hopes Dumbledore will congratulate him on a good job again. Harry quite liked that before.

But instead of the beautiful Victorian arches and pale green benches hidden behind a light smattering of ethereal fog, all Harry sees is white. No kindly old mentor waits to greet him, and there’s no squawking corpse of his enemy there to help him ponder the real meaning of life.

So this is what dying is really like?

At least it’s cosy wherever he is. The bed he lies on is comfortable, and crisp, white sheets envelop his body. A steady beep fills his ears, and it smells clean. He’s going to like it here. Harry is about to close his eyes and drift back off to sleep for a while longer—he has all the time in the world now, after all—but a long, black blurry shape appears in front of him. As he grows more awake, he can hear other things, like the shuffle of papers and the scratch of a quill against parchment.

With a frown and a groan, Harry tries to sit up, but the action hurts, and he gives up before he’s even given it an honest try.

The blur speaks to him. “Stay there, mate. You’ve had a bad few hours.”

“Glasses?” Harry manages to croak through dry, chapped lips. “Where are my glasses?” 

If he’s still alive, he at least deserves to be able to see correctly. The shape presses a familiar metal into his hand, and gingerly, Harry lifts them to his face. Forms become sharper as the world finally shapes into focus.

“Welcome back.” Ron beams down at him. “You’ve been out for a couple of hours.”

Harry’s confused. “W-what happened?”

“Ah, mate.” Relief floods Ron’s face. “It was awful. Selwyn and his buddies cornered us, and I thought we were done for, especially when they hit you with that curse. Fuck knows what that was—the Healers were utterly stumped. You were fucking paralysed, Harry.

“They were about to hit me with the same thing when Smythe and the others finally found us, the lazy gits. They arrested everyone. Otherwise…” The redhead trails off with a sigh. He pauses, a mournful look crossing his face. After a moment, he shakes whatever thoughts are haunting him out of his head, and his usual lopsided grin reappears. “Anyway, I managed to grab you and Apparate us out of there. Brought you straight here.

“The healers are still running tests, but I think you’re going to be okay.”

Harry nods, memories of the fight roaring back into his mind. He scrunches his eyes tightly closed, trying to ignore the throb of pain. Maybe he bashed his head? Then with a groan, his final words to Ron echo, like the final moments of a love film.

Because I knew you, I have been changed for good.

“Paralysed, was I?”

“Yeah, I was trying to get you to move your fingers and your legs and stuff but nothing. Although it, uhm, it didn’t shut you up. You couldn’t stop talking.” Ron’s ears turn pink, and he takes a sudden interest in the top left corner of Harry’s sheets.

Harry’s not sure he wants his friend to repeat whatever he said. The memories are cringe-worthy enough. “Oh?” he questions anyway, inwardly kicking himself as the word falls out of his mouth.

A silent nod confirms Harry’s suspicions that whatever he thinks he said was actually spoken. Ron doesn’t say anything else. A flicker of movement from a diagnostic charm distracts both their attention, and Harry’s best friend glances up at the door with glassy eyes. He clears his throat before finally looking back at Harry.

“So, I owled Ginny and Hermione. And Mum, of course. Now I know you’re not going to die, I think I’ll go and wait outside for them. They’ll want to see you, and I don’t think Mum will do well trying to battle the Welcome Witch for an answer this afternoon. Plus, if anyone hears that the famous Harry Potter is in here, we’ll never get a moment’s peace.”

“Sure, thanks, mate.”

Harry closes his eyes again, letting the sound of trainers squeaking against the linoleum track Ron’s movements towards the exit. To Harry’s surprise, a surge of disappointment tugs at his heart. He confessed his true feelings to his best friend, told him how much he means to him, and got nothing back.

“Oh, and Harry?” 

Ron’s voice breaks through Harry’s brooding, causing the wizard’s eyes to shoot open as he lifts his head from his pillow just enough to glance at his best friend. “Yeah?”

“I love you, too.” Ron’s grin widens, and there’s a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Just wish you didn’t wait until you were on your deathbed to say it.” 

The ginger git’s glowing pink ears disappear before Harry can even reply. Harry sinks back into his bed, a small smile crossing over his lips. 

He knew it.

[jazz-miester]

Lying is supposed to be easy. So why do you make it so hard?

Pairing: Optimus Prime X Reader

Song: weathers- c'est la vie

Warnings: Bit of angst. Cursing.

An: A character/story idea I may never write. Let me know what all of you think!

A cigarette hangs loosely from thier lips. Unlit. The lighter they had pulled out wove around thier fingers. Y/n's mind still undecided if they wanted it lit or not. Granted, it wasn't a normal cigarette. Herbal. Some sort of lavender and chamomile medley.

They had promised to quite long ago. But some habits die hard and it's easier to find an alternative than fall back on old vices.

Thier hands shook slightly as they finally brought the lighter to the cigarette. On hand curling protectively around the flame and the wind howled around then.

Rain fell heavily down to the earth. The first rain in Jasper Nevada since god knows when. They needed it. Desperate for it.

God's knew they missed it. Some old memory locked away in thier mind. Cobwebs dusted away from thier not to long ago childhood.

They were barely into thier adulthood. Some would say.

It doesn't matter.

Smoke spilled out from between thier lips. Curling around and drifting into the cool air.

Thunder roared from the dark clouds. A sounding trumpet for lighting to follow.

Y/n's old chevy rattled with it. Thier heater sputtering a few times before finally giving up. Soon blasting cool air instead. They cursed. Smacking the dashboard.

"Mother fucker." They hung thier hand out the window. The cigarette almost put out by the wind. "First the fucking tire then this." Y/n hisses through thier teeth. They smack the dashboard one more time. "Last time I let someone else work on you." They turn the truck off. The silence sudden and heavy broken only by the rumbling thunder and rain smacking against the trucks roof.

Y/n checks thier phone. It was six now. Two more hours before nightfall. The tow company said they be here four hours ago. They wonder if the company decided to stay because if the rain. Wait for it to pass. Maybe this wind knocked down a power pole or two.

Or maybe the company was just lazy.

Y/n's stomach growled and they glanced over at the take out in the worn seat next to them. Chicken teriyaki and rice. Should they eat now? Probably. Before it got cold.

They blew out another huff of smoke. The window frame was wet now. As well as part of thier leg. They smashed the end of the cigarette into the ashtray and rolled thier window up. The hand crank sticking momentarily before letting go with a squeak.

They began to eat. Still keeping an eye out for the tow truck in the rapidly dimming light.

Halfway through eating thier phone buzzed. Rattling across the dashboard and onto the floor. Cursing they swallowed thickly and sputtered. Clearing thier throat before answering.

"Hello?" The phone cracked in and out. Reception was spotty this far out if town.

"We..... Can't..... Unable." Thier phone screen lit up. They held it out in front of then. The screen cracked. Obscuring part of what they could see. They looked at the number on the phone. Then to the one on the crumpled piece of paper.

"You have to be shitting me." They tossed the styrofoam back into the seat. The plastic fork falled to the ground. It was the tow company.

The bastards. Couldn't have called sooner.

Fuck it. They'd walk home and tow it themselves in the morning. Before work.

Or at least they would have if it weren't for the rumbling semi heading thier way. It came to a stop next to them. Engine deep and rumbling. It was fake. They knew. Ment to imitate earth's vehicles.

Thier phone rang. An image flashed across the screen with the caller id. Optimus. He had looked all to peaceful in that field to not take a picture.

"Hey Big Guy." They chuckled.

"Y/n. Hello. Is everything alright?" Y/n snorted. Oh fucking peachy they were. First they were late for work. Got yelled at by thier boss for shit they didn't do. Had thier piece of shit phone stolen so they had to go fucking find it. Paid sixty bucks to get it back. Had some dickhead think they didn't know shit about vehicles so they tried to scam them.

And the list goes on.

They looked over at the semi as they spoke.

"I'm fine Prime." Optimus rocked on his wheels.

"Are you sure? I was unaware one could drive with a blown tire." Y/n scoffed. Brows shooting upwards with disbelief.

"You sarcastic-" They cut themselves off. "You here to make fun of me?" The truck rumbled.

"No. I'm here offer help." He paused. "You have been here for over six hours." How. Oh ya. Patrol. They forgot he frequently came through here to and from base.

"I. Ya. I could use the help." They hated admitting that. That they needed help. They knew they could manage and y/n always felt like they owed the person back.

Optimus pulled in front of their chevy. An unspoken "I'll tow you" hung in the air. He would. Optimus knew they would come back shortly to get their truck back. Might as well help so they don't try to do it in the dark.

They were shivering and slightly soaked when they finally got in the driver's seat. Optimus wordlessly turns the heater on. Angling the vents to point at them.

"Sorry for tracking water in." Y/n muttered. Doing their best to wipe off any excess water that got inside.

"There's no need for apologies." The semi pulled away from the side of the road and began to drive. Slightly clicking gears as he rumbles downwards. Rain splattered across the windshield. Wipers working overtime to keep it away. They new it was more for them than him.

His headlights were dim, they noticed. Barley lighting up the old gray road.

It was silent. Comfortable.

It was dark now. Even more so without the full moon. Heavy cloads still cloaking the sky.

"Are the kids home?" Y/n broke the silence.

"Yes. I had to drop Rafael off at home." That's right. Bumblebee has been busy on a scouting mission. He's supposed to be back tomorrow. Short. By cybertronian standards.

It's been almost a month for us.

There's was flashing in the distance. Orange hues erie in the heavy rain. They can make out more shapes the closer they get. A red blob turning into a car. Two small blurs turned out to be a couple.

Optimus stops next to them at their urging.

Y/n hope out immediately. The rain quickly soaking through their thin shirt.

"What seems to be the matter?" Y/n asks. A woman turns around. Hand on her obviously pregnant belly. "Well shit." They mutter.

"Our tire blew out on the way to Jasper." The woman brushes a few strands of soaked hair out of her face. "Me and my son can't seem to get the tire changed. We umm." They look over at their kid. Some tiny teen trying to pull the bolts off the best they could. The car wast quite high enough off the ground either.

"Do you want help?" They already began rolling their soaked sleeves up thier arm. A simple tattoo wove from thier wrist up to thier elbow. A memento from a close friend. The woman nodded vigorously.

"Yes please." Y/n points the woman towards Optimus. They hope he wouldn't mind.

"Please Ma'am. I don't want you catching cold." Her cheeks flush. "The kid can help if they want. But they can get out of the rain if they want." The kid grins at them, missing one or two front teeth.

"I can help!" Y/n chuckles and pulls the tire iron gently from thier hands.

"Well then. Let's get going." They popped the bolts off one by one. They themselves straining despite the fact that could easily toss tires like these around. Y/n lifted weights to get stronger and boxed to defend themselves. Thier muscles flexing beneath thier shirt a testament to that.

"God. Who stuck these fu-friggen things on." The kid laughed.

"My cousin." Well damn.

It took a few moments and a bashed finger later to change the tire. Y/n was thoroughly soaked by the time they finished. Practically drowning from the rain.

They helped the women down and out from Optimus. Both of them none the wiser to the alien next to them.

The two got into the car and drove off. Y/n watches as the car gets smaller and smaller until the rain completely obscures thier view.

They grab into the handle next to Optimus's door and hoists themselves up. Smacking thier boots to get off any mud or debris before getting inside.

"Well now I'm even more wet." Y/n snorts and peels thier shirt off. They had a tank top underneath. It sticks to thier skin uncomfortably.

Optimus hums. The deep sound rumbling in the cab. Y/n pats thier pockets fully intending to light another cigarette before remembering where they're at. More precisely, who, they are with.

Instead they pull out a stick of gum. The minty flavor almost overpowering.

Optimus hums again. A sign they've come to find, was of him thinking. A habit he never broke of even after becoming Optimus Prime. Perks of being his charge they guessed.

They never knew why he did that. Became thier guardian. Y/n was well enough an adult. Had a house, payed the bills. They never understood and didn't plan on it anytime soon. Optimus was Optimus and he does what he does. He was one of the few people they never second guess thier opinion.

They held a lot of respect for the old mech.

More so than a lot of people in thier life. They wondered if he knew that. He could tell them to leap off a cliff and they would. Trusting him to be there to catch them.

It took a lot to earn that trust. And they had given it to him. With shaking palms and to high walls.

'Here'. Their actions said. 'Here is the key. Open the door and you hurt me. Guard it. Please. Because I am unable to anymore.'

And Optimus did. Because Optimus is Optimus. A being to good for this world.

Y/n had a scar that reached from thier shoulder to the small of thier back. It would have killed them if Optimus didn't step in. They got the relic. Optimus got thier trust and friendship.

"You do that often." Y/n head jerks up from where it had been resting against the window. Startled from thier thought.

"Do what, Prime?" Optimus slowed down. Rolling to a general stop at the battered stop sign.

"Help others without question. Despite it often being inconvenient for you." Y/n pops thier gum. Thinking.

They never really thought about it. They just did what felt right.

"And?" They scratch at thier neck.

"Why?" A simple one word question. Might as well been a loaded gun. They knew exactly where he was taking this.

"Because I can. Because it's the right thing to do. Because I'd want someone to do it for my friends and family." Optimus rumbled his engine. Pulling off to the side of the road.

Son of a bitch. He's gonna make them do feelings now?

Last time it was from a simple, yet self deprecating joke. Last thing they will joke about around him again was being dumber than a box of rocks. Who knew the old guy could be so silently, and heavily caring without a single word.

"And what about you? Would you not like help as well?"

The rain lessened to a drizzle now. No way we're they gonna do this shit. Not again. Don't make them face things yet.

Y/n reaches to open the door.

Optimus locks it shut.

"Fucken hell man." They mutter. Not for the last time they began wishing for an actual cigarette.

"Hmm." They sunk down in the driver's seat uselessly pushing at the gas pedal urging for him to go on.

"You can ask. You do know this." Y/n chuckles.

"I did." They wave thier hand at the steering wheel. "I called the tow company. Not my fault they didn't call me till forever later." Optimus sinks down on his tires. If they don't wrap this up now and tell him what he wants to here they'll be here forever.

But he can tell when they're lying.

They both loath and like it.

They can be truthful to him. But sometimes it hurts. Because he makes them feel. He makes them know.

They're people to. And they deserve so much more that they give themselves.

Deserve more than the punishing pace they put themselves through.

"And no one else? What would you have done after?" Y/n shrugged thier shoulders.

"Walked home and make tomorrow me deal with it. They're a bitch in the morning but they get shit done."

Shit.

"And you would call no one? Again?" They shake their head.

"It's just a tow Optimus. Not me bleeding the fuck out." They feel bad. A sour taste in thier mouth as they bite their answer out.

"You where feverish and unable to walk last time." His voice was low. Almost sad. He was upset without showing it.

He cares. Cares so much.

He cares enough about me for the both of us.

"It's fine."

"No."

"I.." I shiver. The heater turns on. "Lying 'spose to be easy. Why do you make it so fucking hard." Optimus rumbles.

"Because you care." He's right.

"And so do I. I am here. Always. No matter what. No matter how trivial you think it is Y/n. I am here. And, as you like to say, I am stuck to your side whether you like it or not." He begins to drive. His words stick to me.

"I know. It's hard." Its hard when you don't think you deserve it. Any of it.

I lay my hand on the center of the steering wheel.

"I know. I know. But I will tell you again and again. Until you truly believe it y/n."

I was lost before him.

God's I hate that he makes me feel. Feel more than I ever have. But he got me to quite one bad habit. And he's working on the other.

[hansolmates]

jjk; off-league

summary; you decide to do a little boudoir photoshoot for yourself—a little sexy lingerie, some bunny ears, maybe even a little nudity to make you feel more body positive about yourself. that little photoshoot doesn’t end up being for yourself anymore when you accidentally send those sexy pictures to your stupidly hot, stupidly talented childhood friend who you haven’t spoken to since middle school graduation.  pairing; photographer!jk x fem!reader genre/warnings; childhood friends to lovers!au, flangst, mutual pining, feelings of insecurity and body image, suggestive language, nudity  w.c; 6.2k a/n: i was feeling a lil meh about this fic after finishing it but a month later it finally makes its debut! for @btsghostiewritersnet​ BGW Bingo Bash! today’s trope is “childhood friends to lovers” which surprisingly isn’t a favorite of mine so it was definitely a challenge to write! 

“C’mon, I need your opinion. Deadass. Don’t just say shit to make me feel better.” 

“Gimmie those nudes, baby girl,” Johnny makes an impeccable fuckboy impersonation, making you feel a little squirmy to your stomach. 

It’s an hour away from being the ass-crack’o-dawn and your impromptu pin-up photoshoot just needs the sexy-star-of-approval from your best friend. Johnny Suh is also up for reasons unmentioned, but you had a feeling his pretty boyfriend is fifty percent of the reason. 

You look at yourself in the mirror, smoothing your frame against the black bodice of the sheer teddy. The only parts that are fully concealed are the parts that don’t matter. The sheer bodice reveals your pert nipples concealed by a thin black mesh, coupled with the deep V in the sweetheart neckline, accented by a little black bow in the dive of your highlighted cleavage. The silky a-line raceways to a set of black garters hugging your thighs, barely hanging onto a pair of lace thigh-highs. 

It doesn’t leave you butt naked, but enough to make you feel confident about yourself. These pictures are for you, and Johnny. And Johnny’s boyfriend if he’s being nosy. 

You tug off the silk bunny ears from your head, flinging it somewhere in your room. The wire started to dig in your brain, giving you a major headache. 

“Sending them now,” you hang up and start compiling the pictures in a folder on Google Drive. Once that’s done you copy the shareable link, sending it to Johnny’s number. It happens all so fast, and you feel kind of giddy. As you were posing for the camera, taking your time to find all the right angles, you felt good, you felt sexy in your little get up. Channeling your inner Ariana Grande was one of your childhood dreams, your fifteen year old self would be proud. 

Five minutes pass, fifteen, and by the twenty-five minute mark you’re pissed. What’s taking Johnny so long? 

Makeup scrubbed clean and face bare, you shuffle in your duvet, far too tired to be waiting up this long. Punching in his number once more, you cry, “Hey! Why haven’t you looked at them yet?” 

“What?” your friend’s voice sounds pebbly through the line. Was Johnny sleeping? “You never sent them!” he whines tiredly. 

“No, I definitely sent them!” you pull the phone away and keep Johnny on call, ready to prove him wrong. 

But to your surprise, the last message you sent to Johnny was this afternoon. 

The most recent message is to a person named John Kook. 

You scream. 

Johnny screams back at you with an equal amount of force, “What the fuck? Did someone break in? Are you being mobbed? See, this is why I wanted to put the baby monitor in your room—” 

“Worse!” you’re well prepared for any break in, but not for this. “I sent my pics to the wrong John!” 

“Well… is he at least cute?” 

“I mean, in the fourth grade he looked pretty cute with that front tooth missing,” you find your output of frustration, your bunny plush, pulling it by the ear and hitting it against the bed. “His name isn’t even John! It was just his English name for a silly project we did in middle school. This is so embarrassing, all I can picture is a twelve-year-old Jungkook mortified from sexual harassment. I basically sent him nudes!” 

“Tasteful nudes.” 

“I’m gonna die.” 

“He’s gonna die, of happiness.” 

Jeon Jungkook was a classmate from elementary through middle school. Time and time again was he the object of your affections, from the first grade at the roller rink to the speech he made at graduation. But really, who cares? You’re old and have a job, and it’s not like you’ve communicated with any of your former classmates. 

Your horror amplifies when the Delivered receipt is changed to Read 3:41AM. 

“Fuck! Fuck me with a fuckin’ fuck nugget he saw it!” you cry, “does he still have my number? What if he deleted my contact, would that be even weirder?” 

“Girl, stop.” Johnny sighs, and you can already picture him running his thumb between his brows. “This doesn’t change anything, alright? You two don’t know each other anymore. Block his number and go to sleep.” 

Johnny leaves you alone after that, and you’re left alone to mull over the implications of sending Jeon Jungkook your nude photoshoot. 

You do block his number, knowing that waiting for a reply would drive you nuts. The one thing that you do which is possibly worse, is look him up on Instagram. 

Of course, he’s stupid hot. 

He doesn’t seem to like being on the receiving end of the camera however, in favor of his timeline being filled with romantic shots of the beach and city. In between the picturesque views and watercolor sunsets do you see glimpses of him and his current life. You can’t help but smile when you see him with his brother and parents during his college graduation, easily towering over all of them. He looks tall with fluffy cocoa hair, big pearly whites gleaming proudly at the camera. He grew up well. 

To torture yourself even more, you even look through his story. Twelve hours ago, he was at the gym lifting weights. Normally, you’d be disgusted by people trying to show off their grunt faces drenched in sweat, but of course Jungkook has to have on a silly smile and pump his fist up after he deadlifts. The sweat clinging to his shirt is also a high plus. His gorgeous display of abs has your hands fluttering over your own belly. Maybe you need to exercise more. 

Four hours ago, you see him and a pretty woman with their cheeks squished together, using the puppy filter. Of course he has a girlfriend. 

Reluctant, you open up your Google Drive and scroll through your photoshoot. Deflated, you frown at the pictures that once made you beam with pride, picking at every little detail that bothered you. You really can’t believe you sent these to Jeon Jungkook, no longer a fourth grader with one front tooth, but a man way out of your league. 

By the time you will yourself to sleep, the sun peeks from the horizon, telling you to move on. 

“Hey Gyu,” you tiptoe over to the table much too small for Mingyu’s frame. The string bean is slumped over his iPad pro, drawing intently at some chibi OCs. “Got a plot for that one?” you ask, pointing at the little pink and blue creature decorating the screen. 

Mingyu grunts in reply, obviously engrossed. It isn’t until you slide him a matcha frappe from Starbucks that he becomes intelligible, muttering a “thank you” as he blends with his pen. 

Sensing that it’s going to be awhile before you get through to him, you take your usual rounds around the front desk and lobby of the cosy photo studio. There’s pretty pictures of Mingyu’s work, along with the other employees Minghao and Hoseok. Each section of the wall features a different taste of each person’s interest. Mingyu is a divine lover of soft bed sheets and hot tea, many of his photographs and paintings featuring cafes or perfectly messy beds you’ve seen on hotel advertisements. Minghao is a tasteful artisan, splotches of color retaliating against neutral backgrounds. Finally, Hoseok manages to find balance in the people, large cityscapes telling both large and small stories.

“Alright,” Mingyu’s deep voice forces you to curl your head, where he’s sipping at his drink with haste. “What’cha here for?” 

You frown, “Don’t you remember? I told you last week I’d be stopping by to get my photos developed,” you gesture to the Pentax in your hands, an heirloom from your great-aunt. While you did take digital photos for sending them to Johnny, the ones you wanted developed were taken side-by-side with the film camera. You figured that film would give a little more authenticity to your photoshoot. 

“Shit, that’s today?” the camera falls like deadweight, slapping against your sweater as you watch Mingyu frantically look through his digital calendar. He looks at you, dejected. “How many prints?” 

“I don’t know, maybe like six. Or eight?” 

“That’s gonna take too long, I’m heading down to Hidden Grounds for a vision meeting at two.” 

“Alright, I’m free all day. What about after?”

“Nah, you came all this way. I can just let the new guy help you.” and Mingyu makes a show of cupping his hands in the direction of the open hallway, “Yah, Jeon Jungkook! Get your cute ass out here!” 

The Pentax around your neck suddenly feels like weight akin to a two-ton boulder, and you surge forward, not caring that the corner of the table is digging into your belly. “Mingyu,” you garble, and Mingyu is shell-shocked by the desperation in your eyes. “Isn’t Minghao around or something? Or I can come back another time? These photos are really personal and I don’t feel comfortable having a stranger see them.”

“What? We’re professionals, don’t belittle us.” 

“No, seriously,” you whine, you tug at the collar of his denim jacket, noses practically touching. “These pictures are different. My tits are out and my legs are spread—”

“—interrupting something?” 

You hear some shuffling, and you turn around to see Jeon Jungkook’s back, comically turned to face the entrance. 

And damn, he did have a cute ass. Nothing is going to hide the glory in those jeans, absolutely nothing. 

“Hilarious,” Mingyu drawls, and you push him away. “Forget it, Kook. She doesn’t feel comfortable letting a stranger develop her photos.” 

Sensing that it’s safe to turn around, you watch as his black bangs flutter as he faces you. You hope your body language doesn’t betray how you’re really feeling, because you are a mere mortal and you’re weak in the presence of god-like figures. 

“Oh, what a relief then,” he smiles at you, and his voice sounds like honey. If there was malice or surprise in his tone, his good-natured expression betrays it. “Because I’ve known this friend since elementary school. We go way back.” 

You ignore the burn in the back of your head, as you are positive Mingyu knows you’re hiding something. 

“Really, what a coincidence.” Mingyu replies carefully, and you feel utterly stuck between these men and their banter, locked up like cream in an Oreo cookie. 

Nothing argues against Jungkook as he easily weaves through the thick wave of awkwardness, hands reaching out to touch your camera. “Wow,” he marvels, holding the object in his hands, “my dad has one of these.” 

“A-ha,” you take a step back, only to bump into the corner of the table, again. Ouch. “It’s okay, Jungkook. I’m actually busy today so I can come when Mingyu’s free–”

“Oh, I thought you were free all day,” Mingyu drawls, looking up through his lashes as he sips languidly at his drink. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook says good-naturedly, as if Mingyu just didn’t out you. “We got a lot of catching up to do anyway, c’mon.” 

Jungkook moves to place a hand in the small of your back and that’s enough to get you to rev up. Refusing to let any contact get between the two of you, you zip ahead down the familiar hallway, turning your head to catch Mingyu grinning with all canines, shooing you with his fingers like a puppy. 

You send Mingyu a stream of “fuck yous” into his inbox for later, unwilling to settle with this curse. Busying yourself with your phone, you avoid eye contact with Jungkook until you reach the dark room. The red light turned off at the top of the doorhenge signals that the room is not in use. Jungkook makes a move to open the door and that’s when you pounce, blocking the doorway with your small body. It’s comical, really. 

Jungkook raises a brow at you, but says nothing. 

“I really can wait, Jungkook,” you steel yourself, forcing a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t like you developing my pictures—”

It’s then that his pretty cupid’s bow unfurls into a full-fledged grin. “Girlfriend... you’ve been keeping tabs on me?” 

“Fuck, well I had to!” your face is as red as the dark room’s alert light, now on because Jungkook flicked the switch and he’s between your arm to unlock the door. Your hand brushes his as you both reach the knob. “I’m really really sorry I sent those pictures. They were for Johnny—you remember Johnny Suh from English class? And I saved you in my contacts as “John Kook” so it was an honest mess up.” 

Jungkook hums, so light that the breathiness in his chords flutters your grip on the knob. He forces the door ajar, and you’re left to follow him in the dark room, cluttered with solutions and fancy equipment. 

“Thought so,” Jungkook shrugged, giving a one-over at the materials in the room, mulling over his next steps in developing your film. 

You’re still petrified at the doorway, holding your Pentax between both hands like a lifeline. Jungkook’s head lols to you, and you get a pretty view of the way his bangs brush over his forehead, Adam’s Apple bobbing. His expression is a little tired, but overall unreadable. He sighs your name, lethargic. 

“We’re already here, so might as well get this done,” he gestures to the camera in your vice grip. “Do you wanna pick the shots or do you want me to?” 

He’s already seen the digitals, what’s so different about getting a couple prints? With a slight pout you drag your feet over to him, relinquishing your camera. “I’m thinking you have a better eye for this than I do.” 

“You think right.” 

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Cocky, but what you’ve seen on Instagram definitely justifies his sentiment. Jungkook pays no mind to you, busying his hands with the various containers in front of him, measuring the solutions for the developer, stopper, and fixer. You were always entranced by the process of developing film, especially in highschool where their photography club holed themselves in the darkroom like a secret lair. 

“Alright,” he pops open the canister, carefully laying out sections of the film in groups of four. “Want me to pick a random one for a tester?” 

You frown, “At least put some thought into it.” 

“Always,” it looks like he already decided way before he popped the question, immediately taking a negative and placing it in the carrier. 

His fingers are nimble as he takes the time to clean off the dust and any debris that could potentially ruin the image. Then he turns off the lights and begins the process. You dive around him, trying to keep your distance but still too curious to leave his side. If he’s annoyed he fails to show it, in favor of humming whatever song comes from his Echo Dot. 

You always got the solos in choir. You wanted to reminisce, but you’re too nervous to say it out loud. 

Even though it’s his job and he’s being a professional, you romanticize the experience, watching as he carefully puts the print in each liquid process. Your image blooms to life, and you feel your stomach churn as the photo develops before your eyes. 

After a final dip in the solution stopper, he places the first product in a bath of water. Even though you are mere centimeters away, you can clearly see the image of you swimming around the container. 

“Alright!” Jungkook hangs the finished picture on a pastel pink clothespin, tacking it in place. “Whaddya think?” 

Your breath catches in your throat, feeling heavy as you look at the image of you reflected in the glossy paper. You’re perched on your bed, a hand splaying between your legs as the other hand toys with the silk bunny ears. You’re leaned slightly, giving an ample view of your cleavage. However, the image of you is definitely different from being blown up in comparison to the negatives, and you squirm uncomfortably at your full display. 

“I look,” you bite your tongue, internally debating whether you like it or not. Not to spare Jungkook the theatrics you shrug, “It’s good.”  

The lack of enthusiasm seems to dissatisfy Jungkook however, as he has to take a double take and look back and forth between the image and the real thing. “What’s wrong with it, do you think Johnny’ll not like it?” 

“What?” you furrow your brows, breaking into a nervous laugh. “Johnny has a boyfriend. I just wanted his opinion. This photoshoot is for me, y’know? Just something to make me feel good about myself.” 

Jungkook’s lips morph into a little ‘o’, and you see a little bit of the child you once knew in the way he’s mulling over the situation. 

“Then can I give you my honest opinion?” Jungkook clips off the half-dried photo, holding it between you two. “Stop thinking so hard about every little thing you don’t like about yourself. If I was your boyfriend and you gifted this to me, I’d be creaming my pants. You look fucking sexy, all grown up since you cried in the fourth grade.” 

You’ve just been flung a litany of words you have no brain capacity to digest. Along with that, the immense heat you didn’t know you’ve been suppressing surges to your belly, low and simmering. Jungkook stares at you in earnest, despite his sudden gush of honesty, you don’t know what to say. There’s a dash of pink staining his cheeks, betraying the confidence he previously displayed. He stiffens when you don’t reply immediately and moves to clean his materials, his sudden bout of bold honesty quickly shrinking. 

“Y-you know,” you look down at your feet, “the only reason why I cried in the fourth grade was because you told me Santa wasn’t real.” 

Jungkook softens, tilting his head. “Sorry about that.” 

“Thanks though,” you gently reach for the photo in Jungkook’s grasp, looking at it without contempt. “But won’t your girlfriend be upset if she knew you were saying things like this about someone else?” 

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, if you looked through the rest of my Instagram story,” Jungkooks cards a hand through his already mussed hair, splitting the ends. “You would see that she’s not my girlfriend, but my tattoo artist.” 

For added measure, he wiggles his fingers in front of you, revealing pretty ink and silver bands across his knuckles.

“Oh,” your voice is feather light, and you’re sure you’re drooling as you stare far too long at the letters that mark his hands, curious as to what they symbolize. 

“So, as a singleton telling another singleton,” he continues, “I know it’s meaningless if you don’t believe it yourself, but I’m telling you, you’re attractive.” 

“Thanks,” you hold the picture tightly in your grasp, eyes flickering to the negatives in the room ready to be galvanized into a full-fledged picture. “Why don’t we wrap this up, huh? We can continue another time.” 

If he notices how much the paper wilts in your grasp, he doesn’t comment on it. “Are you sure? I know it takes a lot of time, but I don’t mind.” 

“I’m sure,” you force a smile, one hand on the lightswitch. “I’ll let you know when I’m ready, okay?” 

Jungkook swallows, nodding mechanically. “Okay.” 

“It was really nice seeing you, Kook.” you blurt before you could chicken out, letting the room bask in darkness a little longer so he can’t see your flustered state. “I’m not even going to downplay it, you look great.” 

You half-expect a cocky remark, or a little chest pumping from the compliment. At the sound of his nickname however, 4th grade Jeon Jungkook resurfaces and he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Like I said, so do you,” he replies easily, sending you a soft smile and opening the door for you. 

The door closes shut behind you and you exhale, patting your cheeks and willing for the chilly air to calm you down. 

When you get home that day, you shuck off all your clothes and crawl into bed. You cry out when the metal framing of your bunny ears stabs you in the back, and you fling it to some unmentionable part of the room. You reach for a bag of half-opened sour gummy worms, flipping open your MacBook to continue streaming the soft magical girl anime you’ve been hooked on these past few weeks. 

Not even Sailor Uranus can distract you; however, by the time it’s dark and you’ve run out of distractions, you finally pull the plug and unblock Jungkook from your list of contacts. 

Your phone buzzes, the incessant vibration relaying all the messages you’ve missed. 

[March 12th, 3:53AM]

You: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/0343…

John Kook: ??? 

John Kook: you probably sent this to me by accident… sorry i clicked on it

John Kook: is it weird if i said you’ve done a massive glow up since the middle school dance?

[March 12th, 12:02 PM]

John Kook: are u mad

John Kook: you’re mad

John Kook: am i makin this weird by continuing to text you

John Kook: im making it weird. 

[March 31st, 6:24 PM]

John Kook: https://drive.google.com/drive/u/1/folders/049…

You tilt your head at the folder link, it was sent only a few hours ago. With a click, you’re enlightened to a set of digital photos. Your photos from your photoshoot, but not quite. They’ve been expertly edited, not too much to distort your looks, but only to enhance your features. A small, barely there smile creeps from your subconscious, ultimately touched by the gesture. 

John Kook: sorry if i pushed too hard today. 

Guilt overrides your nerves, prompting you to immediately press the call button on his contact. Not to your surprise, Jungkook’s light voice calls your name through the line after the second ring. 

“Don’t be sorry,” you blurt, forgoing the hellos. “It was the right amount of push, I feel better, really. If anything, I’m sorry. I blocked your number because I was scared to read your reaction.” 

You hear him sigh along the line, and you feel that breath ripple through your nerves, as if he’s right next to you. “It’s fine, I would’ve done the same thing.” 

“The pictures you just sent, they’re really beautiful. You did a good job.” 

“Thanks, I had a bit of help. I didn’t have to do much.” 

“Oh, did Mingyu come back from his meeting?” 

"No, I uh," Jungkook chuckles, and while you don't really know why, the sound is nonetheless pleasant. “It was mostly the lighting and coloring I fixed up. Didn’t need to do much since you already looked so pretty as it is.” 

You choke on your saliva. 

“You okay?”

“Y-yeah,” you cough, “just choked on a snack I was eating.” he hums in reply, and you pray he doesn’t hear your stomach fervently retort that you haven’t eaten since lunch. “So, I think I’m up for developing more of the film. When can I drop by?” 

“I’m free Saturday,” Jungkook chirps, “I have a shoot until noon but you can come anytime after that.” 

“Sounds good, I’ll be there,” you clutch the phone with both hands. “I can bring lunch. What do you like to eat?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to do that.”

“I’m already buying for Minghao,” you lie, “do you like burgers?” 

“I can’t say no to a good burger,” Jungkook’s smile feels almost palpable against the line, “do you remember our field trip to the national museum of history? We had burgers on the street!” 

“Oh, those were so good,” you moan, fuzzy memories of a middle grade field trip resurfacing to clarity, “but you ate like, ten of them!”

“I still get nightmares,” he warns, “don’t let me go to bed like this.” 

You giggle, letting your body meld further into your warm mattress. “Maybe I’ll just show up with ten burgers for you tomorrow.” 

“I’ll throw up on you, try me.” 

Minghao’s adjusting the frames on their display wall by the centimeter, and it’s pissing him off. 

“Ah, it’s off,” he mutters to himself when you walk in, indicated by the electronic bell. He turns to you briefly, pulling a leveler out of his overall pocket. “Doesn’t this look off?” 

“Uh,” you look towards Mingyu at the front desk, who is paying no mind as he continues scribbling on his iPad. You tilt your head towards your former college classmate. “It doesn’t look off from over here?” 

Tacking the leveler on one of the frames, he whines, “It’s five degrees off.” 

Mingyu puts his pen down to reach over the counter and grab the paper from your hands, steaming with the scent of fast food, “He’s been like this for hours, don’t mind him.” 

He doesn’t even ask whether the food is his, Mingyu sees grease and he claims. Reaching for an oil-wrapped parchment, he unfolds the paper to reveal a handsome burger with all the fix-ens. 

Barely satisfied, Minghao steps away from the art display. There is a sizable gap in the display, now divided between four artists instead of three. You wonder how Jungkook’s work will look amongst the other artists. 

“Cute ‘fit.” Minghao mumbles, nodding approvingly at your clothes as he digs into the bag for his own burger. 

You send a half-smile his way. If an outfit is Minghao-approved, that means you’ve gone above and beyond. At least, you tried to play it off like you didn’t try to look cute. It’s not like you’re intimidated by Jungkook, living with a major fifteen-year glow up. After all, he’s already seen more than you can imagine. 

Mingyu takes notice, eyes going south to where your white blouse meets your cleavage. You hurl a fry at his face, “Eyes up here, perv.” 

He scrunches his nose, lifting a greasy thumb to slide a manila envelope over to you. “Here’s the developed pictures. Intercepted Kook and I finished them this morning.” 

You frown, “Jungkook’s not done with his photoshoot yet?” 

“Oh, he’s been done.” Mingyu’s eyes roll back to one of the studios. “But I’m saying is, you got what you needed. So you can leave if you want,” but he grins at you, canines so sharp you feel his stare jabbing you in the proverbial neck. “Unlesssss you want to go in and say hi.” 

If he has any inkling of what’s going on in your head, it’s definitely confirmed when your face turns hot. Damn body, you’re betraying me! With a flourish you grab the fries from under Mingyu’s nose, along with whatever’s left in the fast food bag. 

Minghao’s smiling through his burger, knowing if he pulls any type of savagery his lunch would certainly be pulled from under his chin. 

“Whatever you’re thinking, drop it or the burger will be going in your ass instead of out.” You mean to sound menacing, but the Min-squared and their boisterous laughter follow you down the hallway and into the occupied studio. 

“Hey Jungkoo—wow.”

You’re sure you look like Alice, enthralled by the little wonderland she just stepped into. The set is beautiful, right out of a fairytale. It has a very old-romance vibe, like Morticia and Gomez Addams. There lay a couch made of the darkest, richest wood, with velvet red cushions covering the body. Across the floor laid hundreds of black rose petals, blanketing the floor in a sea of ebony. 

“It’s for a wedding, gothic themed.” Jungkook supplies helpfully, still fiddling with whatever he was looking on his digital camera. He’s looking utterly soft in a matching grey sweat combination, something that would easily disgust you during high school, but unfairly works with him. 

“The shoot must’ve been beautiful.” 

“It was.” 

“I uh, got this for you.” Your fingers start to sweat from clutching the bag so hard, and you place it on his work table. 

He finally looks up from his camera, giving you a wan smile. “I thought you got those for Minghao.” 

You mentally slap your cheeks, trying to ignore the way his smile made your stomach do somersaults. “He got his own. Your portion has a cookie in it, so.” 

His cute teeth unveil themselves at the mention of sweets, and you can’t help but smile back at the familiarity. 

The two of you take your time in enjoying your lunch, not meaning to stay but the very back of your mind hoping he’d like to share a meal with you. After all, Mingyu and Minghao are probably at the front relishing in your very obvious attraction. What can you say, first crushes never die. 

Between sips of your milkshake, you’ve taken to flipping through Jungkook’s portfolio. There’s a myriad of different subjects: beaches, people, the occasional squirrel. Each section of the portfolio feels like you’re being transported to a new side of Jungkook and his artistry, and you ached to know more. 

“Wow,” you point at an action shot of two girls in a dance studio, “this duo looks like Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

He swallows his (second) burger, having the audacity to sink sheepishly in his sweater. “It is Chungha and Hyoyeon.” 

You nearly choke on your cookie. “That’s amazing.” you say breathlessly, looking closer at the image. In fact, the beautiful women photographed are famed hip-hop choreographers Chungha and Hyoyeon. You can’t imagine how good Jungkook must be to manage a photoshoot with them. 

As proud as you are of Jungkook, it reminds you that since middle school you two have lived completely different lives. You wonder if Jungkook gets these kinds of gigs all the time, hanging around with gorgeous, talented people like himself.

Jungkook says your name once, twice. He looks at you concerned, and you’re melting in his large carmine eyes. If he notices your usual overthinking, he doesn’t say anything, and gestures to the section at the end of his portfolio. “This isn’t my best work, but it’s one of my favorites.” 

There’s something familiar about this set. A playground with a busted swing set. Children riding on bikes and colorful class shirts. Ice cream melting on fists. 

Thirteen-year-old you hanging on top of your middle school’s leafless tree, clutching your baseball cap as you shade yourself from the sunset. 

“Was this the first time you took pictures?” you ask, thumbing the picture of yourself. 

“Yeah. It’s when I decided it’s what I wanted to do the rest of my life.” 

“I know we didn’t know each other that well and we’ve only recently connected but,” you give him a shy smile, “I’m really proud of what you’ve grown up to be, Jungkook.” 

He looks like you’ve hung him the moon and stars, his half-eaten burger loosening in his grasp. His lips are parted cutely, like a kitten who’s just been offered a fresh glass of milk. You cough at the sudden pause in conversation, feeling self-conscious of your impulse confession. You don’t even have it in you to be disgusted when Jungkook hastily shoves the second half of his burger down his throat, tips of his ears pink. 

Leaving him be, you press a palm to your cheek, looking at the wedding set. 

Jungkook downs half a water bottle before he speaks again. “Y’know, it would be a shame to clean up this set already. It was kind of expensive.” 

“Yeah,” you echo, standing up and kicking off your slippers. You kick your feet in the air, watching the black petals kiss across your ankles.

“I have an idea,” he wipes his hands on his sweats, “why don’t you go back home and get an outfit you really like. Lingerie, a cute outfit, whatever. Let me give you a photoshoot you’d love.” 

You look up from your petal dance, balking. “Jungkook! That’s not necessary, I told you the photos I took were okay.” 

“Yeah but, you didn’t seem entirely happy. C’mon, I got a camera and a beautiful set. Why waste it?” his hands naturally gravitate towards his charging camera, already turning it on. “I can do lighting, I know all your good angles. What’s stopping us?” 

Really, what’s stopping you? Your hands fiddle with your open flannel, the soft material comforting you as you look across the set. You try to imagine yourself, your body draped across the velvet pillows and black petals. Would it look good? Would you feel good? You think back to how you felt the first time, how scared you were when someone other than Johnny would be looking at your photos. You remember how something weird and sour contorted in your stomach when you scrolled through Jeon Jungkook’s Instagram, no longer the little boy you knew but a man who could have everything he wanted—

“Stop thinking about it.” Jungkook suddenly snaps, and you break from your reverie to catch him looking upset. It’s been awhile since you’ve seen him like that. 

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinking that you’re out of my league.”

“Excuse me?” 

“You were like this the other day too,” and he looks sad, and puts his camera down to come closer to you. “Why are you feeling this way. Is it me?” 

“Not necessarily,” you huff, hugging yourself.

“Do you not feel beautiful? Do you not like your body?” 

“No, I do.” you say to yourself, and you mean it. Even though there will inevitably be days where you may not feel one-hundred percent positive about yourself, you know at the end of the day, you love you and all its parts. “I don’t know, Jungkook. I had no problem letting Mingyu develop the photos originally, because he knew me in college and I was already sure of myself back then. But I guess when I sent them to you, I felt like I did when I was a little girl, y’know? Going through puberty, and worrying about what other people think.” 

And it’s not like Jungkook teased you or made you feel lesser of yourself. In fact, Jungkook was the student you wanted to be when you were younger. Someone sweet and caring, and unabashedly confident about himself. 

“I guess seeing you so successful and the fact that my stupid childhood crush came back from a time where I always felt low, made me feel a little insecure again.” 

Something sinks in and you feel hyper aware of how crushed Jungkook looks at your declaration. “There’s no leagues, you got that?” he says quietly, walking so close that he’s hovering over you, sneakers brushing. “I get it. I get unsure and insecure just like you. Hell, I was nervous this morning, wondering if you’d really come. We may not feel insecure over the same things, but middle school wasn’t that great for me either.” He makes a funny face, and you feel a smile twitch across your lips. “But it’s okay. Because we’re human and we grow. But now, you are successful. You’ve grown from your time growing up and you’re a wonderful, powerful person. I’m proud of you too.” 

“I know,” you mumble, leaning your forehead against his chest. His arms wrap around you in response, holding you snug.

“And for the record, I thought you were the most beautiful person in the world in fourth grade. Even though my world was pretty small back then, I can say now that what I thought back then still stands true.” 

You look up from his embrace, where he’s leaning down to press a slow, cotton soft kiss to your forehead. He backs up a little to read your face, and you give a tiny nod in response to signal it’s okay. Jungkook exhales in contentment, relaxing against your frame. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you crack a smile, feeling your insecurities slowly evaporate. You feel better, light, knowing that these negative feelings are only temporary, and you’re not alone. Being in Jungkook’s arms, an honest boy turned man you’ve known all your life, it feels almost like home. 

You two stay like this for a while. Exchanging feather-like kisses, feeling irrevocably young and hopeful. Suddenly feeling emboldened, you tug him by the strings of his hoodie to press a long, hot kiss to his lips. There’s a stutter, and you’re pretty sure Jungkook choked on his saliva at the sudden change of pace but you continue, letting Jungkook catch up and follow your lead. 

“Wow,” Jungkook pulls away and his lips are shiny and flushed. Adorable. You think 7th grade Jungkook would be rolling in his Naruto sheets if he knew you two would inevitably end up together. Conversely, 7th grade you would be squealing in your kitten plushie, proud that you managed to nab your childhood crush to live out all the fantasies you’ve imagined since the 4th grade. 

“Jungkook,” you let your flannel fall to the floor in a heap, only leaving your baby blue top in a thin ruched camisole. “I think I want to do the photoshoot. Can’t pass up these pretty petals, y’know?” 

He runs a hand through his hair, gaping. “Really?” 

“Yeah,” you press a wet kiss to his neck, “anyway you want me, baby. Full creative control. I want you to like this as much as I do, okay?” 

With the permission to hold the wheel, Jungkook’s lightheaded and spinning. His eyes rake up and down your gorgeous form, wondering how many good deeds he’s done in his past life to earn a right just as this. 

“In that case,” he presses a palm to your shoulder, pushing you to sit along the velvet cushion, “strip for me.”