#i hate hot weather. i hate sweating too much. i hate feeling like i wanna rip my skin off just to cool down internally.

[boyobjectifier]

i’m sleepy, we have to clean our room today (and probably tomorrow) bc our landlord is super fucking incompetent and then it’s going to be 83-90 degrees for a week (or more) straight starting Friday :-)

[katuschka]

Touch Starved Pups – Two

Jake Kiszka x f!reader x Josh Kiszka 6.269 words

Welcome to Part Two of the story about what happens to two well-behaved, bored and horny romantics when a new feisty, worldly and hot social media manager enters the building...

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, intended for adult readers. Any resemblance to real persons is purely coincidental. Also, if you're under 18, go find some other entertainment elsewhere.

Warnings (are spoilers): sex, sex, sex, and sex; unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex, rough oral sex, fingering, squirting, choking, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, old unresolved traumas, bullying, online bullying, expressive language, domJake/sweet Jake, domJosh/sweet Josh, alcohol consumption, smoking

Also, if you like the story and want to get notifications for future updates, you can join the Taglist or see the Masterlist

See also Touch Starved Pups Masterpost

I'm in like I'm infatuated It's all too much, the pressure She's all that I can take She's a sad tomato She's three miles of bad road She's her own invention That gets me in the throat

When I was a kid, my mom kept telling me that my flippant and optimistic nature would make me miserable one day. It would be my downfall, she said. Well, I’m still waiting.

Nah, that’s badly worded. I never waited for anything. She kept waiting for miracles my whole childhood and it only made our life hellish sometimes. So, I either do shit, or I prevent shit from happening. Easy. Well, mostly. Sometimes, it's a bit harder but I still keep trying. While I acknowledge the fact that the world can often be a miserable place, I just decided that I’m not gonna contribute to that. If anything ever makes me feel under the weather, it’s not my life loving nature, but the people who dislike it, because hating is all they know. So fuck them. I just live my life the way I want and so far it’s made me feel good. There were even a few times when I felt like a real fucking queen! Falling asleep in the middle of a twin(k) sandwich definitely qualifies as one of those moments. 

Just imagine: It’s three am, penthouse wall windows reveal the sea of city lights below. It illuminates the room just right. It’s a magnificent, festive glow. The air is still thick with the smell of sex, probably because of all those stains on the sheets, previously drenched with pheromone infused sweat and other bodily fluids. A nice contrast to three freshly-showered, rose-scented, warm and dry bodies lying intertwined and pleasantly fatigued on those dirty, dirty sheets. Dirtied with looooove. Muahaha. One of the bodies belongs to you, the other two are none other than the sweet and spicy Kiszka twins. What a nice thing to imagine, right? Well, you can. I don’t have to. I’m right here. 

We did it! Not my first threesome, but definitely the most memorable one. Who would have thought  that those two mini labradoodles would make me feel so good! I mean, they did in the past, but this is a whole new level. And they continue to do so. Even now, when both of them are fast asleep. Their bodies emanate so much heat that I don’t need a blanket. They are my blanket, keeping me warm and cozy and…safe. That’s new.

I probably shouldn’t get used to that, but it surely is extremely pleasant right now: spooned by Josh, with his face buried in my hair. I can feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck, while Jake’s left hand rests possessively on my right thigh. I was stroking his belly, but it kept waking him up, so he stopped me by taking my hand in his and now they both just rest on top of his chest, with our fingers still intertwined. He looks stunning like this, lying on his back like a king resting after doing the king’s work. With his lips slightly parted, he’s snoring lightly, reminding me he’s still just a guy, not an elf. 

It’s intoxicating, the whole thing, the whole situation. I can’t get enough of this. I just wanna grab all their remaining limbs and wrap them all around me until I melt into them…once again. I think I will, but for now, I savor the moment in this luxurious and airy room, and the city lights keep twinkling. I bet we must look great, too, with all that night glow illuminating our resting bodies. Fit for Vogue cover no doubt…if we weren’t completely naked, that is. We wouldn’t want to offend anyone, oh no no no. So maybe just a Tom Ford ad.

You’re right, this doesn’t sound like my room. My life may be good, but I couldn’t afford a penthouse room with wall windows. This is not the night when I first made that naughty suggestion. Nothing happened in that hotel room AND there’s more to the story. So let’s go back. 

It took them a little while to fully comprehend what I was really suggesting. Poor things. Jake was the first one to turn pale. Then he started shaking his head and pointing his finger at me. “No way! No, no no,” trying to laugh it off. Who does he think I am? A stand-up comedian? I just flashed them, for fuck’s sake. That’s no laughing matter, you fucker. I’m dead serious. 

I just raised my right eyebrow at him, as I was getting impatient and becoming very, VERY annoyed. He looked at Josh for confirmation and – to my delight – found none. That up-to-no-good pixie might have looked equally frightened, but he was definitely NOT opposed to the idea. I could tell, because I could see… Jake noticed too. “Oh for fuck’s sake! Are you fucking serious?”

Josh didn’t respond. Rubbing the nape of his neck, he looked me in the eye and I could tell he was searching for more clues as to what I was really up to. I thought I had made myself clear. Trying to make myself even clearer, I returned the stare with my chin up and licked my upper lip lasciviously, making Josh’s dick twitch again. 

“It’s just sex, Jake…” Josh mumbled sheepishly. 

“You’re sick! Both of you.” Jake spat and pointed a finger animatedly first at Josh, then at me, then at Josh again. 

“Fine! Bugger off, then!” Josh hissed in response, repeating Jake’s previous words. 

“Fuck you!” To my dismay, he zipped up, adjusted his shirt a bit (like anyone would be able to tell the difference) and stormed out, closing the door with a loud bang. 

“Well…” Josh sighed and rubbed his hands together with an idioting grin on his face.  I usually enjoyed his playful nature, but it annoyed me magnificently at that moment. 

“What?” 

“Hey lady, you got the love I need,” not discouraged by the acidic tone of my voice, he crooned, approaching me slowly.

… and that wouldn’t do. I could see my plan crumbling and the only way to keep things going was to keep them BOTH sexually frustrated, even if it meant denying myself some generously offered cock. I finally decided to play the “offended” card. My room, my rules. They just couldn’t get a grip!

And that’s how Josh too ended up in the hallway outside my room, holding his crumpled clothes in front of him in an attempt to hide at least his front yard valuables. One angry kick at my door before he went running to his room. I kept my ear glued to the door so as not to miss any additional drama, but apart from a surprised “whoa” coming from Robert, the security guy, followed by “run, Forrest, run”, he seemed to have scared no one. 

So, that was it. God bless my purple little friend that’s never let me down. Visualizing it in Josh’s ass with his face contorted with bliss certainly helped, too. Thank you Jake for the idea. It was great. 

We were supposed to leave early in the morning, and because the fucking schedule is sacred, it was just past seven am when we all indeed found ourselves dragging our sorry and hungover asses towards the busses. The weather was shit that day, just like our collective mood. Grey and gloomy (And wet…yeah, well, I kept having thoughts. So what!). I was already standing outside the hotel, trying to enjoy my morning cigarette – shivering just a little bit, because I had thought a light cardigan and leggings would be enough – when Josh just stormed by with his hideous cap and sunglasses on, looking like a huge white fly. 

That was unusual (even more so in this overcast weather), which could only mean that he was sulking. My theory was further supported by him lighting up a cigarette in front of the bus, meaning he was sulking rather vigorously, wanting everyone (me) to see. I half expected him to pull out a chocolate bar out of his pocket and ram it down his throat. The idea made me chuckle. 

“What did you do to him?” It was Robert, appearing next to me out of nowhere and handing  me a much needed cup of coffee. Rob knew… 

“Sucked his twin’s dick. Thank you.” 

Richard nodded in understanding, even though he didn’t understand shit about this particular scenario. I like Robert. He’s our teddy grizzly bear. A good buddy, too. I took a sip and savored it for a while because Jake just passed us by – also without saying a word – and I wanted to pretend I didn’t notice. Robert did, though, and frowned: “Wait…you gave Jake head, but he doesn’t seem too happy about it now… and Josh was running down the hall in his birthday suit in the middle of the night… Girl! Why do I feel like there’s more to the story?” Now Robert was slowly starting to understand. Bless him. 

“Do you really wanna know?”

 “Are you kidding me? You know I live for juicy tea.” I laughed while we watched Jake having a heated conversation with Josh, who ended the argument abruptly by just flipping Jake violently right in front of his almost new nose before stepping onto the bus without another word. Jake noticed us staring, flipped us too, and followed suit. We were too far to hear the words, but it was obvious they exchanged a few words that would make their mama wash their mouths with soap.

Robert pursed his lips and puffed through his nose. “OK, maybe I don’t wanna know.”  

I just shrugged. At first glance, this looked like a rather precarious situation, but I was hopeful it wouldn’t last long. After all, it wasn’t really my fault, and if the two of them had a problem with each other because of me, I had generously offered a solution. It was just a matter of time. 

“Ah, well, this is going to be a truly pleasant ride. Care to join us?” Robert asked, throwing me a devilish smile. 

“Nah, I’m good,” I grinned back. 

While Rob was a part of the closest crew, my own bunk bed was on the other bus, so that was the one I usually took, unless my work required a different momentary arrangement. To be honest, I felt like there would be a lot of work waiting for me that day (And I was right.), but I also wanted to deal with that alone. Those fuckers were in no mood to be able to handle even more bullshit. And it was a real shitstorm, lemme tell you. 

I usually start my daily routine by checking all the relevant platforms, because I wanna keep abreast of things. Sometimes it requires drinking before noon, because of all the crazy shit that one can find online. I keep doing it so that no one else has to. It’s an honorable task. Like a food taster or something. 

Some finds are more or less pleasant and make my days easier. For example almost all the twinning content. It was basically the same that day, in spite of the fact that the show the previous night wasn’t exactly a success. 

One video in particular caught my attention, though, because it looked like the feud between the two of them started well before they ended up in my room. It was not the usual twin banter. Not this time. This looked serious. I completely missed it, but clearly, you didn’t, because there were several variations from different angles, two of them featuring my lovely self. It must have happened very shortly after I took my own footage that I was about to edit next. 

None of that was new. I’m often on the fan videos, just like the rest of the crew, but I’m never the center of anyone’s attention, so in spite of some of you hating me, it doesn’t really matter…well, it didn’t, until now. The said feud was obviously about me, even though I had not been aware of any of that happening at that moment. And apparently, it made them behave unprofessionally too. 

Well, strike one.

Our night activities were quite obviously no secret, but no one batted an eye. A pleasurable distraction, that’s what it was. However, if it became too much of a distraction…if I became too much of a distraction and it should start affecting their ability to perform, I might be asked to pack my bags. That’s when I felt the first lump in my stomach. Do no harm, that’s the key. We’ve all wanted this, right?

I took a deep breath and counted to ten. It was just a brief moment. Iit couldn’t possibly be all my fault. Not all shows can be stellar; there are nights when things just go wrong. And nobody said anything to me afterwards. 

Stop overreacting, you bitch, and do your job, which you can’t afford to lose. It’s not a big deal. 

And it wasn’t. I checked more videos and it really wasn’t as bad as the general mood made it seem like at the time. As that particular leg of the tour was coming to an end, we were all just tired, irritated and homesick (Not me, but some others were, including the guys). 

I delved into the comments next. 

No, it was not a big deal, but it still made so many of you so fucking angry, because for a split second, they weren’t paying attention to you, but it was all on me. And you saw how both of them wanted me. 

Strike two!

I got used to derogatory comments, slurs or even edited pictures. I scanned past that, more or less unfazed, until my eyes landed on something that almost made me choke on my soda (with rum). 

This job taught one important thing. My own online presence is irrelevant, problematic, and potentially harmful. I have no personal accounts. That doesn’t mean I’m untraceable and as it turned out, someone dug up dirt on my father and used it to psychoanalyze me. Yes, that excuse for a man is a piece of shit. I know. He’s dead to me. But this…this was like a punch in the guts. And I just sat there, unable to take a deep breath all of the sudden.

I refuse to let people get under my skin, but that asshole is my kryptonite. I battled my demons, kicked them in the balls, but his disgusting face is the only personified evil that I never managed to overcome. The scars run deep. I hate the fact, but that’s how it is. At least I had managed to stop it from haunting me. Until now. 

The second lump in my stomach wasn’t a lump. It was a huge ball of acid goo. I barely managed to get to the bathroom in time before my body betrayed me and I said goodbye to my breakfast. 

“Are you ok?” It was Daniel, approaching me at my spot in section B right after the soundcheck ended. 

“Never been better. Why?” 

He cast me a sympathetic look. “Stella, I saw some of that shit.” 

Well, shit.

After we arrived at the hotel the previous day, I beelined to my hotel room and continued to work from there. Well I tried to do some work, but after my hands started shaking uncontrollably, I spent at least two hours crouched down on the floor in the shower before I called it a night. 

It got worse overnight. What started as just a few comments that affected me personally, snowballed out of proportion and I felt like my job was really hanging by a thread. 

I didn’t meet the twins again until soundcheck and even then we kept our distance. They probably thought that I was avoiding them and it was in fact true. I needed to function and that took all my remaining energy. I didn’t have enough brainpower to try to explain what was wrong with me. Daniel’s comment together with their sideways glances that I suddenly noticed told me that they probably already knew. I sighed, feeling defeated. 

“It just comes with the job. Working with people is not for the faint of heart. I’m used to that. I’m prepared for that. So, I’m fine, Daniel.” 

“Uh huh, fearless in words, as always. And yet I’m seeing that you’re not. I know you’re tough, but you’re also only human. You can’t always hide behind your words. Not only because you’re failing this time, but also because it’s not healthy.”

“So what am I supposed to do, Danny?” 

“Well, let’s start with you joining us for a drink after the show,” he smiled at me encouragingly. 

…an offer, which I didn’t take. I craved their closeness more than ever, but it was not right. I barely survived the photopit that evening and went straight to bed as soon as possible.   

The next morning passed in a haze. Once again, I spent it trying and failing to do my daily routine – just my laptop’n’me – before we all gathered for lunch. I didn’t want to go, but I had witnessed what lack of self care can do to you when I was a child, and I had promised myself to never fall down that pit. 

I managed to smile weakly at everyone before I found my seat in the corner. That’s where Jake finally approached me.

“Bebe, honey, come and join us,” he smiled and motioned towards the table where Josh was already waving at me to come. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Jake.” 

He sat on the chair next to me and placed his hands on the table with a dull thud. “What’s going on? This is not you, and – believe it or not – it’s really making us worry. Is it about your dad? Because that’s just…”

“He’s not my “DAD”. And no…well, yes, kind of, but that’s my personal problem. It’s about the two of you. I’m here to do my job, and I can’t be the reason why two of you argue and consequently fail to do yours.” 

“Bebe, we’re fine…”...but I just shook my head dismissively. He took a deep breath. 

“So, if we convinced you that we’re fine and not arguing, would it be OK?”

“Yeah, perhaps…” I replied with uncertainty, to which he stood up, bent down to kiss my hair while mumbling “ok”, and went back to his table, leaving me confused on top of everything else. I quickly finished my lunch and stormed out. 

The rest of the day went more or less smoothly. Another soundcheck, just in case, even though it was the same venue, a few hours of “idling” backstage (doesn’t apply to the crew), followed by yet another hellish evening in front of the people who wanted to tar and feather me.

When I got back to my room, I just showered quickly and was in my nightgown and ready to go to bed when I heard a knock on my door. 

“Hi sparrow.” He smiled sweetly and swung on his feet. 

“Josh? What are you doing here? I’m a bit tired and…”

“I…well, WE got a little surprise for you. Come on. Let me show you.” He was already reaching for my hand but I backed away. 

“All right, all right…just let me put some clothes on, you crank. I’m almost naked, with just my nightgo…”

“Which is just perfect! Come on!” He was relentless, jumping around like a kid around a christmas tree. I have to admit, his exuberant behavior was once again contagious, and I couldn’t help but laugh. What else could I do, he was already pushing me out of the door and towards the elevator. “I hope we’re not going to go swimming…naked?!?” I asked warily, but he just laughed and kissed me softly. “Josh, we really shouldn’t…”

“Shhh.” 

To my utter bewilderment, he led me right to the door of a presidential suite. Opening it, he motioned for me to enter. I gasped. It was a beautiful one. Elegantly furnished and airy. The bedroom was separated from the large lounge only by a glass wall so that it looked more like a huge loft. Standing by a large minibar, dressed also just in a bathrobe, was Jake. He raised his glass to me with a soft smile and took a sip. I heard the door click behind me and turned around to see Josh leaning against, his expression completely altered now.   

I was impressed, not gonna lie. My babies all grown up and taking initiative. It felt as if they filtered all the blood in my veins. The bitch is back, bitches! I wondered what was in store for me there. Judging by the looks on their faces, probably nothing good. Good…

“Want a drink?” Jake asked and I nodded. 

He came closer, took a sip of his whisky. He tapped at my lower lip with his finger, urging me to open my mouth, and kissed me, spitting the drink on my tongue. It was so lewd and hedonistic! Got me all excited. I swallowed the burning liquid and kissed him back.  

“Any special requests, Bebe?” he asked when our lips parted. 

Oh, I sooo wanted to be just a ragdoll in their hands. After three days spent trying to be in control of the situation – and failing – I now realized how desperately I needed NOT to be in control for a while. To let go. Would they really do that for me? Treating me like their whore in this suite that must have been a bit expensive even to their standards? “Use me!” My tone was cold and daring, I showed no fear, but I was so ready to be tossed around the room.

Jake looked a bit surprised at first, but then he took another sip and his face hardened, eyes darkening with lust. I felt Josh’s hands running down my shoulders until they reached my elbows and grabbed them firmly. Oh god, they were hoping for this! Oh this is going to be so good. 

“Allright, on your knees, then.” 

I quickly obliged. He stripped off his gown and motioned to me to do the same. Before I could even blink, Joah was naked too. Eager bastard. They towered over me like two hounds, but I had absolutely no intention to be sheepish. They looked at each other and I swear I could feel their silent communication going on. It was like a different kind of waves, vibrating in the air and elusive to all the senses other than touch. 

“Open,” Jake ordered. I stuck my tongue out daringly and he filled my mouth without any further ado. While still holding the glass of whisky, he grabbed my hair with his left hand and fucked my mouth until I jerked back, gasping for air. He released me. “Are you ok?” he asked and his face softened. 

“Yes,” I answered breathlessly. 

“Good. So, as you probably already gathered, we’re here to convince you. It’s going to be just as you requested, but at first we’re going to make you feel good. Ok?” I nodded. Of course it was fucking ok! I was already so wet that I might get dehydrated if I didn’t get a drink soon. Glancing around, I noticed that Josh already made himself comfortable on the bed beyond the glass divider. I looked up at Jake again and he nodded. 

“Yeah, go,” Jake motioned towards the king size bed with his hand clutching a glass of whisky. His tone was mild, but it wasn’t a request. 

I climbed onto the bed and looked at Josh for further instructions. It was just so surreal, I still couldn’t really believe what was happening. He spread his legs and patted the mattress between them. “Come here sparrow, make yourself comfy.” I positioned myself in front of him and leaned my back against his chest. 

“Sparrow, we know the last few days have been rough, so if there’s anything you don’t like, tell us immediately, understand?” He whispered in my ear while he stroked my upper thighs.

“Ok,” I whispered back. He grabbed my knees and forced my legs open, making room for Jake to position himself between them. I gasped when he started kissing the soft skin of my inner thigh, making his way up, while Josh’s lips brushed against my neck, while his palms traveled up and down my upper arms. Jake’s gradual teasing was almost debilitating and I squealed when the tip of his tongue finally darted between my folds and he lapped at my juices thirstily, moaning in appreciation before he wrapped his lips around my clit and started sucking gently. The muscles of my underbelly tightened almost immediately and my whole body shook with a sudden wave of intense arousal. 

“Any further request, sparrow?” Josh bit my earlobe teasingly. 

“Choke me,” I breathed out. He wrapped his fingers around my throat and squeezed gently. “More,” I urged him. “Fuck!” he hissed, almost angrily, and his grip tightened. I rolled my eyes and let out a loud, strangled moan. Pressed with my lower back against him, I could feel how much he liked that too. “You’re something else, sparrow.”

I looked down at Jake, whose eyes met mine and I watched how they widened. I imagined what it must have looked like: my heaving chest, my parted lips and raised brows, Josh’s other hand still toying with my left tit. 

Jake closed his eyes and moaned around my clit. The fucker liked that, too. See? I knew you would. 

It took them only a few more minutes to make me cum…for the first time. Before I could react, Jake grabbed my ankles and pulled me down a bit so that my head now rested in Josh’s groin. He pressed his right palm against my core and slowly pushed two fingers inside. The intensity of the new stimulation right after my orgasm took me by surprise. 

“Jake…oh…god…what are you doing?”

“Shut up.” 

OK!

The way he started pumping his fingers inside me made me see stars. It was something new, and it made me squeak again. Sure, he had done this before, but never right after eating me out. I grabbed Josh’s arms in search of something to hold on to, leaving angry indented marks in the flesh of his triceps as Jake continued assaulting my g spot. I knew what was going to happen, and let out a strangled cry when it indeed did. I tensed, arched my back and squirted all over Jake’s forearm. 

“Good girl,” he crooned when I collapsed back onto the mattress, completely exhausted. A rag doll, indeed. They offered me no rest, though, and I was on my hands and knees before my heart could even stop racing. “Please, just a minute,” I whimpered and looked at Josh, whom I was facing now. He smiled sweetly and pecked my lips gently before he mumbled “you asked for this, honey” in his raspy, low voice. Fuck! Oh yes, I did. 

I could feel Jake positioning behind me. He ran his palms up my thighs and smacked my ass disapprovingly when they trembled. He bent down and rubbed the hot skin of his stomach against my back before he whispered in my ear: “It’s our turn, baby.” I was SO ready! My pussy was not, though, and I gasped in surprise when the tip of his cock entered me.

“Oh god, you’re so tight.” 

I could feel him stretching me and took a few deep breaths, trying to relax a bit. “Well, that’s your fault, so stop complaining.”

“I’m not…complaining…” He bottomed out, making me gasp in surprise. The stretch was so pleasantly intense, making me feel so full. “...just…stating facts!” He pulled out almost entirely and then thrusted into me again with such force that I almost collided with Josh. He grabbed my shoulders first to support me, and then started stroking my hair, massaging the nape of my neck as Jake set a steady pace. Slow and sensual at first. He knows that’s how I like it. 

“Are you feeling better?”Josh asked softly. I mumbled an incoherent “mmmhmm” and nodded. He squeezed my left boob gently and pinched the nipple slightly between his fingers as Jake’s hand traveled up my spine. I tilted my head back in a wordless plea for him to grab my hair and he did, with the other hand still kneading the soft flesh of my hip.  

“How does it feel?” It was Josh again. I closed my eyes and smiled in between my moans. It felt absolutely exhilarating. My mind practically left the room. The combination of Jake’s dick hitting my cervix and Josh’s fingertips tracing the curves of my upper body made me almost oblivious to the surroundings and I was floating on a marshmallow cloud of pure physical bliss. “Tell me baby…” I can’t speak right now. Here’s another smile, so shut up already.

“Josh?” Jake’s sultry voice brought me back to planet Earth.

“Yeah?” The response was a bit edgy. Oh dear god…

“Shut up,” Jake breathed out shakily. He tried to sound menacingly, but his voice betrayed him and faltered. I laughed softly and nuzzled my cheek in Josh's palm that was still ready to caress and support me if necessary. It was so intimate. Or it would be, if it weren’t for their childish brattiness. Even now, for fucks sake! But Jake wasn’t wrong.

“Make me.” The situation was getting a little out of hand and I grabbed Josh’s hard cock just to prevent further escalations. He yelped in surprise and I could tell Jake was getting more and more annoyed by the way he slammed into me. 

“Bebe, make him shut up.” he hissed through his teeth. I bit my lip in an attempt not to laugh because while Josh is a versatile (and kinky) lover when it comes to various roles, he would never, EVER shut up under any circumstance! But I knew what Jake meant. I wanted this, so I should be fair. I looked at Josh again and rubbed my thumb against his lower lip. “Want my mouth?” I whispered. He enveloped his lips around the tip of my thumb and started sucking at it, moaning a “yes” around it without breaking eye contact. I pulled it out and ran my trembling fingers down his chest and belly until I cupped his balls. He tilted his head back immediately and reached behind his head to grab onto the headboard, putting his lean musculature on full display. Show-off.  

I could watch him just breathing like that all day, but something else required my attention, as Jake reminded me by smacking my ass. I slowly licked around the head of that something, making Josh’s back arch. He literally wailed when I swallowed him whole once again. See? Can’t keep quiet even even if his life depended on it. 

I tried my best to do a good job, bobbing my head up and down like a good girl, but it was getting increasingly hard as Jake quickened his pace. I had to stop and I looked at Josh pleadingly. “I’m gonna need your help, baby.” He only nodded and the three of us shifted a bit, so that Josh too was on his knees now, his cock right in front of my face. He placed his hands on both sides of my head and slid his cock inside my mouth until he hit my throat and I gagged loudly. He quickly withdrew and hesitated. 

Josh once told me that he loved to gag on cock, but not everyone did, and after a few accidents, he stopped doing that to others. I assured him that I personally liked messy blowjobs, and I showed him, too…but I was always in control. He never fucked my face before. “Don’t worry,” I whispered in between my audible exhales. “You love it… I love it.... This is good…” 

And he did. And he wasn’t gentle about it, finally understanding how much I craved this. More than one hole, indeed, and I could easily accommodate them both. We made quite a mess together. I could feel droplets of Jake’s sweat landing on my back as saliva ran down my chin and tears down my cheeks. The noises they were making, the smell of their skin..I was getting high on just that. Fuck the whole world, I wanna stay here. 

Jake was getting close. I could hear it in the tone of his own moans. It’s just different: louder and more natural, no longer restrained. It wasn’t because Josh was there, that’s just how he is…unless he’s relaxed or tipsy, or both. And that’s also how I can tell he’s about to unload.  He just no longer cares, losing himself in the moment. I wish he knew just how sexy that is!

He grabbed me by my biceps and pulled me up to him, making me abandon Josh’s leaking dick momentarily. I had no time to feel sorry about that, because with the change of position, he could now hit that perfect spot inside me so well that I got goosebumps. I snaked my hands behind me to hold on to his hips as he continued pounding into me. I could feel his hot breath on the side of my neck, his parted lips barely touching my skin. The sensation was so similar to what Josh was doing just a moment earlier that my breath hitched. All these subtle reminders that they were in fact identical twins always made my pussy spasm, especially when the sensory quality of those little reminders was this superior. The two of them definitely don’t need to look up the definition of “sensual” in the dictionary. 

My train of thoughts turned my attention back to Josh, and I opened my eyes to see him watching us with his mouth open and his hand wrapped firmly around his cock. The son of a bitch obviously enjoyed the sight, and I couldn’t blame him, because he was quite a sight, too. He wasn’t in a hurry, stroking himself slowly in order to save his love juice for me. Just then Jake darted his tongue out and licked a long stripe up my jugular while he hit that spot again. “Come on Bebe, give it to me,” he pleaded in my ear, meaning he was already reaching that edge. That pushed me past mine. My mouth opened in a silent scream and I came hard on his cock. 

He wrapped his arms around me and after four more jerky thrusts, he spilled inside me, each shot accompanied by a loud, howling moan. 

After he released me, I fell back on my arms right in front of Josh. I darted my tongue out and he met me halfway in a messy kiss. “How do you want me?” I whispered when we parted. 

“On your back,” he commanded. 

And I obliged. “Hold her,” Josh uttered in a low, raspy tone, and Jake’s hands wrapped around my wrists, pulling my arms over my head. Josh grabbed my knees, forcing my legs apart, threw one leg over his shoulder, positioned himself and slowly sank his dick inside me, making me hiss. 

“Are you sore?” he asked softly, while his fingers caressed my belly. I was a bit, but not enough for it to be unpleasant. “No,” I shook my head slowly, blinking lazily. I felt him pulsate inside me, his rock hard dick begging to be cherished. I squeezed around him, begging him to go on. He made the slightest move and exhaled heavily, dropping his head down. Josh was sensitive. Not in a way that he couldn’t last long, quite on the contrary sometimes, but the way he expressed himself during sex always made you think that he was going to jump out of his skin any moment. 

He looked at me again, stroked my cheek and I closed my eyes momentarily. “Tired?” he whispered. Oh for fuck’s sake, Joshua! Stop acting like a nurse and fuck me senseless. But I decided to reward the sweetheart in him by being kind. He meant well. “No, I think there might be one more,” I smiled quasi-sweetly at him and he repaid me with a vicious grin. Grabbing my hips firmly, he started pumping into me. 

It was intense. Maybe a bit too intense. I wasn’t by any means raw, but I surely felt a bit overstimulated already, and my legs started shaking. 

I could feel another orgasm building, but this one would be almost painful. I could already tell. I didn’t care. I wanted this. I needed this. Josh kept stroking my thighs in a vain attempt to soothe me, but I did not want to be soothed. I needed fireworks, and he was already striking sparks deep in my core with each stroke. Pleasure and pain. 

Jake leaned down and kissed my lips tenderly. A sudden wave of electricity shot through my whole body. This whole experience was far better than I expected. No matter how fucked out I already was, they managed to shot new waves of fresh arousal through my system. I felt completely lightheaded, floating an inch above the mattress again. Then it hit me, and my whole body convulsed. I screamed and thrashed about in between them. Jake released me and at the same time, Josh leaned down and wrapped his arms around me to prevent himself from slipping out. I did the same, squeezing him tight. Two more powerful thrusts and then he suddenly stopped, inhaled sharply and squealed in my ear as he came inside me. 

It was just the beginning…

@its-interesting-van-kleep @takenbythemadness @edgingthedarkness @writingcold @ignite-my-fire @jakekiszkasbuttsweat @fleet-of-fiction @lvnterninthenight @myownparadise96 @josh-iamyour-mama @jazzyfigz @sanguinebats @thewritingbeforesunrise @wetkleenex-gvf @lyndz2names @emojakekiszka @hollyco @lizzys-sunflower @fleetingjake @cheersdannyx2 @gvfstuddedmajesty @gvfmarge @dayumclarizzel @musicislove3389 @lipstickitty @seenoversundown @gretnavannfleet @gretasfallingsky @peaceloveunitygvf @clownstarr @watchingover-hypegirl

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hey there

I just wanna so a question

The other day I was out with my mum and i was wearing a hoodie

It was really hot out and because of this I got really mad

Everything became annoying to me

Like every sound became too loud and that sort of thing if that makes sense

I just wanna know if over sensitivity to heat has anything to do with autism or am i just really dramatic

Thank you :)

Hi there,

I also have a hard time in the heat. I find unbearable. I’d rather be freezing cold.

I found an article going over heat intolerance and autism. Here’s a excerpt:

For those with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), this problem can be exacerbated. This is because many people with ASD may experience hypersensitivity and heat intolerance.

Hypersensitivity can make the feeling of sweat, warmth, and uncomfortable clothes even more unbearable. While not everybody with autism struggles with this, hypersensitivity is a relatively common symptom of the condition.

The article will be below in case you’d like to read more.

I also found another article listing some ways to cope during hot weather:

1. Water, water everywhere

Keep water, or herbal tea, or anything drink-wise that is non-soda based and caffeine-free with you at all times. Sip (don’t gulp) at regular intervals. If the heat is unbearable, simple tricks like sucking an ice cube can also work; it will cool you down and keep you properly hydrated. Try and avoid anything sugary or carbonated, as that can sometimes make you sweat more or even induce anxiety.

2. Let us spray

Do you have an old spray bottle or an atomizer? Fill this with cool water and use it to spray your hands, face, neck and head if the heat feels like it might be too much for you. It’s very refreshing and as the water evaporates, you will cool down.

3. Inhale “cool” essential oils

If you can tolerate fragrance, make up a blend of cool-smelling essential oils that can be inhaled from a tissue or handkerchief at regular points. Peppermint, eucalyptus and tea tree are all great ideas — they’ll clear your head and cool you down.

4. Adapt your clothing to suit your ASD

I hate the feeling of having my arms uncovered outdoors, even in extreme heat, so I’ve had to adapt my clothing accordingly. I’ll only really ever wear long sleeve shirts in light-colored, lightweight fabrics. I won’t ever wear shorts for the same reason, so I’ll switch to linen trousers or light jeans if I can.

5. Protect your eyes and your head

Sunlight and ASD can equal problems with sight and vision. Always have good quality sunglasses, and a few pairs so you’ve got them to hand. If you have to wear them indoors, do so and don’t apologize for it.

6. A once a day sunscreen can really help

There are some brilliant once-a-day application sunscreens on the market now, which can mean the difference between having to stay in because you burn easily and going out for at least a few minutes every day. Sometimes, ASD folks can be photosensitive to sunlight, and a product like this can help them tolerate the heat and light better.

7. If you need to shut out daylight, shut it out!

Close the curtains, blinds and drapes if you need to, and it doesn’t matter what time of day it is. Sunlight can be intrusive and cause pain. There comes a point in every day — usually about 6 p.m. — when I have to give in and close everywhere up. I become too tired to focus and concentrate and I find the slight darkness quietens my head down a little.

The link to this article will also be below in case you want to check it out.

I hope these sources help answer your question. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ❤️

[misc-obeyme]

I hate feeling dirty but life doesn't go well with that at all. As soon as I get home I shower. I'm not staying with that feeling longer than I have too. As you can imagine I also hate hot days, because not only do I sweat but the heat and sweat aggravate my eczema. On top of the hot weather making my asthma a huge pain in my ass. Barbatos would appreciate how I like to feel and smell clean. Diavolo would appreciate it too but he would not like me ignoring him because I'm too focused on getting that icky feeling off of me.

Barb would dislike it too but would understand.

Just feed me thoughts. I'm tired, hot, itchy because of eczema and stressed. I wanna sleep now.

Bows for barb

Perhaps it just me living in fantasy land but I like to think that life in the Devildom makes stuff like this much easier. They have magic. I'm convinced that there are spells to help you get clean fast or make you smell nice or prevent you from sweating at all, etc etc. What's all that sorcerer training for if you can't learn spells for this stuff, right?

I also like to think that there would be different types of magical medical items to help with things like eczema and asthma. They probably don't have an instant fix or anything, but at the very least some kinda lotion or special magical inhaler or something.

My bias is probably showing, but I always feel like Barbatos has natural herbal remedies for all kinds of things. He might have a special type of oil or something that you put into your bath water to help soothe your skin. At the very least it likely helps with the itchiness.

And I also think they probably have spells for cooling down, too. But if they don't, you know Barb is gonna make everybody some iced tea or something.

As for being tired, I think both Barbatos and Diavolo would simply tell you to sleep. I'm sure they have a relaxing tea to help with that, too.

I mean, some of that stuff exists in the human world obviously, but they'd have the ~magical~ varieties that could potentially do more.

[sugarcherriess]

🧸 15:09

Warnings - Begging, mentions of cunnilingus, suggestive at best.

Event Masterlist

Dizzy.

Hyunjae feels dizzy.

He feels dizzy in the confinement of your shared living room, next to the fireplace. The orange glow illuminates his dewy face and the buldge of his cock from under his expensive Armani suit.

Head buzzing with need, desire seeping through his pores, arousal blaring through his body louder than the intensity of a thousand suns.

His knees hurt from kneeling on the carpet for so long. But you’re stubborn. And you’re naked.

And he can’t look away from your inviting pussy.

From the meticulous way you’re sitting on the sofa with your legs wide open he has clear view of your glistening cunt.

And he wants a taste so so bad.

He’d be fine with with just one fat lick between your lips at this point.

I mean it won’t be ideal but at least he won’t be left yearning, is what he tells himself.

“Baby please,”

He’s been at it for the past hour, begging to have his face shoved between your thighs. But you always say the

Same.

Damn.

Thing.

“No.”

His cock is painfully throbbing in his pants and his entire collar is soaking up beads of sweat falling down his face. The weather outside has been in the negatives all week and yet his arousal is burning him from the inside out.

“Just once, please, I promise I’ll make you cum,” he whines unashamedly

“I know you will. I just don’t wanna let you do it,”

You’re thoroughly enjoying Hyunjae whimpering like a dog to eat you out. He doesn’t have it for one day and he’s reduced to a whiny slobbering mess.

But then he also hates when you call it pussy withdrawls when that’s exactly what this is.

“Just because it’s true doesnt mean you have to word it like that,”

Two of your digits slyly slip their way inside your hot mouth. You tongue at them, thoroughly covering them in your spit. You even take them out and lick at them like a popsicle to further taunt Hyunjae.

The man before your feet gasps at that.

The lubricated fingers travel their sick way down to your center– Hyunjae eyeing their every twist and turn. Languidly spreading your folds apart, you prod at your clit with wet fingers. Content sighs escape your lips every now and then. And Hyunjae is left to watch.

This is his punishment for being too greedy. You’ve noticed that your cunt is in his mouth more often than you drink water which is a feat on its own. But it also hinders you doing normal human shit. You know, like walking without Hyunjae’s head stuck to your cunt.

He bites his lip when you push a finger into your dribbling hole, adams apple bobbing as his eyes follow the movement of your appendage.

Hyunjae can’t believe he’s jealous of a finger.

“You really want it that bad?” you eye him curiously.

He looks like he’s experiencing a hot flash

“Yes,” his answer is firm and immediate.

“Do I really taste that good?”

“Yes,” this once a dragged out whimper.

“You really enjoy sucking on my clit so much that you’re practically humping the floor fully clothed?”

A choked moan slips into the space between you and him and you wouldn’t be surprised to pull away his waistband see his release staining his underwear.

“Yes,”

“It’s all yours then baby,”

With that Hyunjae shamefully crawls his way over to you. He gets a single lick in right against your leaking entrance, a drop of your fluid slipping on his tongue. But before he could settle comfortably between your legs, your foot is coming up and settling in the middle of his chest. You push Hyunjae back with it and he slightly stumbles, catching himself in the final moment.

“On one condition though,”

Hyunjae is oozing desperation by now. To coerce your approval he’s quick to wrap his hand around your delicate ankle, kissing the skin all the way up to your knee,

“Anything. Anything for you,”

Your ego flies off the handles once more at the lust overtaking his eyes like a parasite.

“Don’t waste a single drop.”

A/N - this has been in my prompts for ages. You can’t believe how happy i am to get it out

Taglist - @chewryy @parkhonnie @from-xero @maybeifyoutrieddd @renjun-holic @heednpy @ilovechanhee @asmigirme @Woowooju

[extravaguk]

pairing: jungkook x reader

summary: But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

wordcount: 15k

genre: summer!au, ex high school classmaters, kinda frenemies to lovers, tattoo artist!&piercing artist!jungkook, popular!reader

rated: m (fluff - smut - angst)

warnings: you broke jungkook's heart you bitch!! , oral sex (m&f), protected sex (shocking tbh), CL as your bestie it doesnt get better than that! idk i dont wanna spoil too much

author's note: fucking finally dude!! i've been writing this since february but school was kicking my ass. now that i finished my exams and mercury is in gemini i was able to finish it. if you read this, i hope you enjoy it!

Inkphoria

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping the flyer too tightly, rumpling the paper in your hand until you're pretty much sure it's ruined. It's the first day of June, and it's already too hot. The sun and humid weather are causing beads of sweat to form in your hairline and your white tank top to stick to your skin. Your jean shorts didn't feel this uncomfortable a few hours ago and you're sure the heat is causing your mascara to transfer to your eyelids and lower lashline. You've never needed a slushie and a smoke this bad in forever, even if you knew the later would make your parents lose their shit.

Inkphoria

You read it again. Your brain is trying to guess what font its written in, an excuse to try to steady your heart beat until your nerves ease a little and you can finally gather the courage to step into the damn shop. You've noticed a few people passing by giving you strange looks because maybe it hasn't been fifteen minutes. Perhaps you've been unmoving like an idiot in the middle of the street for longer than you want to admit.

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

'Its not that much of a big deal. It's not even that painful, trust me.'

You wish you could trust your best friend, but your best friend is also the same woman who assured you Cats was the movie of the year. Yes, not 'Cats: The Musical'. 'Cats', the movie.

'And this could be a great start to get out of your comfort zone and start living your life exactly the way you want to, not the way people expect you to. Not the way your family wants you to, not the way Adam wanted you to.'

But although her credibility could sometimes be questionable - like that time she also told you she'd tried marmite and 'honestly, it's not as bad as people make it out to be'-, you also didn't trust anybody in this world as much as you trusted her. She had always been your entire support system, the only one around you who never sugarcoated, who always treated you as an equal, who was always there for you to help you discover yourself and, at the same time, remind you of who you were.

'And it's gonna look so hot, too.'

That's it. Sticking the wrinkled flyer on your back pocket, your feet finally start moving. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing open the door.

The first thing you notice is that, thankfully, the shop is empty. The second thing you notice is the bright sky blue walls, a green undertone peaking through. Your eyes scan nervously the interior. Frames with tattoo designs and people modeling other different designs decorate the walls, some skateboards also hanging from the ceiling. A few plants in the corner, and two leather couches on either side of the room. Your scanning stops on the counter, where a girl with short, platinium hair and -what you guess is- the eighty percent of her body inked. Face included. She's been looking at you, a smirk tugging at her lips. Her tone is amused when she speaks

"Hi." she says. "You can come closer, you know? We don't bite."

Great. As if you couldn't feel more out of place, apparently you also couldn't look more out of place.

"Sorry." you gulp as you walk forward. "It's my first time doing anything like this."

She laughs this time, but it's not mean. It's not mocking, thank God, and the smile she sends you is as warm as the weather, friendly, luckily helping you calm down a bit. "A virgin, huh? JK's gonna love this." your eyes jump in surprise, but she's fast to wave her hands in front of you. "Just a joke. So, first time getting a tattoo. You have something in mind, honey?"

"Um, no. Not a tattoo. Not yet, I think." you wet your lips, regretting not reaplying chapstick before stepping inside. "A piercing."

"Oh! Cool!" she claps her hands, too excited for your own taste, pulling from under the counter a catalogue. "So, where will it be? Cartilogue? Nose? A lot of people are getting their septums pierced right now, though, so you might-"

"Nipples. Like, one of them."

Her gaze finds yours in surprise, although her face swiftly transforms again into an amiable expression. "Now, that's badass. Alright!" she skims through the pages of the catalogue until she finds the nipple piercing collection. You scratch your head before wiping your forehead sweat-free. "You can pick either barbells or hoops, although barbells heal faster and they don't move around as much. There's different kinds of metal, too. Gold or platinium. If your skin is sensitive, I recommend titanium. It's hypoallergenic and not as problematic."

The blonde keeps talking as you nod your head, a smile making its way into your face while silently thanking her for her easygoing personality. It quickly makes you feel comfortable and stupid for being so terrified of doing this.

Once you decide, settle on the cost and sign the papers, she stands up from the stool she'd been sitting on. "Ok, I'll go tell my coworker. He's been sketching tattoos all morning, it's time he gets to work!" she laughs, but suddenly your smile banishes and your throat shuts down.

"He?" your alarmed tone halts her motions and she looks back at your frightened expression.

He? A he is going to pierce your nipple? You're about to let a random stranger, a HE, see and touch one of your boobs and then pierce a needle through one of your nipples?

"Oh, baby, don't worry. I'd do it myself if I knew how to, but I only do tattoos. Most of our staff are on summer vacation so it's mostly just him and I. If you don't feel comfortable, which is totally understandable, you can wait until september when Minzy comes back and she can do it for you." It's her turn to scratch the back of her head as she adds: "but trust me, we're professionals. He's not a creep or anything like that. He's been doing this for a long time. He won't cross any boundaries."

September? You won't even be here in september. Fuck.

Sure, you could do it when you move back into the city. But this summer was supossed to be the summer. You already decided after your breakup with Adam that there would be no trace of the old you. That it was time to push yourself, to do the things that you've always wanted to do, unapologetically. To find the new you, the real you. To stop being scared.

So after going through you options for a few seconds and taking a deep breath, you make up your mind.

"It's fine. I can do it."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

"JK, sweetheart!"

Jungkook is finishing drawing a Chinese dragon when Mijoo opens the door without knocking. Again. He puts the pen down, rubbing his eyes. It's monday, a slow monday, not much work, and he had hoped it would stay that way until closing time. It's summer and Jungkook hates summer. He hates the heat, he hates being drenched in sweat, and he hates the fact that he can do nothing about it. Because working in the summer is terrible. Summer makes him lazy, makes him want to bathe in a tub full of iced water and not get out until he turns into a raisin and october comes. It makes him irritable. Summer makes him annoyed by people -like Mijoo, even if he loves her to death- and himself.

"I got a girl here who wants a nipple piercing, her first piercing by the way, so get your shit ready and bla bla bla. Straight titanium barbell. Also, don't flirt and don't be creepy. She almost ran away when I told her a male was going to be touching and piercing her tit, be mindful of that. She's too cute, if you want to get her number you should wait until it's done. I think that's it. I'll bring her in in a minute."

Mijoo leaves as fast as she talks, but Jungkook is already used to it. He's already used to the headaches her mouth causes too. He sighs before standing up, tying his too-long raven hair into the best bun he can manage. He washes his hands, sets the table up, sits on the chair and puts the gloves on. He's too busy sterilizing the jewerly when Mijoo comes back with you.

"Alright, my babies. I'll leave you to it." she turns to you. "He'll explain everything, from how the process will be to how to take care of it after it's done." she leaves before saying bye, closing the door behind her, and then he finally turns to you.

Your eyes meet and suddenly everything stops. He almost drops the sterilizing machine, his whole body tensing, going into panic mode as he recognizes you immediatly. His hands shake.

Of course he does. Of course he recognizes his high school crush. The too goody two shoes, too pretentious and too rich, too good for everybody and, most importantly, 'too good for Jeon Jungkook' girl of his high school dreams. Of course he recognizes the girl he had confessed his stupid crush to when he was sixteen. Of course he recognizes the girl who rejected and broke his young and foolish heart when he was a dumb teenager.

It doesn't matter that six years have passed ever since. He still knows every lock of your hair like the palm of his hand. He still remembers the shape of your lips and the exact shade of your eyes. He can still identify the body he fantasized about -and jacked off to- when he was a hormonal teen, now filled in all the right places. Now a grown woman.

Just one look at you after years and years of pining is enough to almost make him faint. And grow a boner under his jeans.

And by the look on your face, your eyes wide and your mouth agape, you recognize him as well.

Dammit.

He schools his features and clears his throat. Forces his body to relax and compose himself, because he's not a teenager anymore. He's also a grown man, who has matured, who now has much more experience with women than he did back then. He had already embarrased himself enough when he was sixteen to be doing it all over again. You're just another attractive girl in a sea of attractive women.

He turns to you. You still haven't said anything. Neither has he.

"Um, you can sit on the table." he manages, motioning to the set up in front of him. He watches you taking doubtful steps until you're sitting down, your eyes avoiding his gaze. He almost forgot you were here to get pierced. Holy shit, you were here to get pierced. To get your nipple pierced.

You're a professional, Jungkook. You can do this, Jungkook. You've seen boobs before, Jungkook. You've pierced nipples before, Jungkook.

Clearing his throat again and forcing his hands to stay by his side, he speaks. "The... The top." your gaze finds his, like a puppy about to get scolded. You look at your top, realization dawning on you. "You don't have to take it off. You can just pull it down."

So you do, pulling the straps of the white tank top down and dragging the fabric down with trembling fingers. No bra. Jungkook gulps as your breasts comes into vision. As perfect as he had imagined years ago. His cock twitches. Round, full, perky and so damn inviting he has to hold himself back from latching onto one nipple with his mouth around it and swirling his tongue over the nub until you're a pretty, moaning, little mess on his piercing tabl-

He closes his eyes for just a second before reminding himself to act like the 23 year old Jungkook he's tried so hard to become. The confident, assured Jungkook he is.

"Okay, this is how it'll go. First I'll clean it and scrub it to get rid of any bacteria." he's so glad he hasn't stuttered yet. 23 year old Jungkook doesn't stutter like 17 year old Jungkook. He's also glad he can pick the alcohol bottle and the surgical scrub without trembling. When he faces you again, you're watching his motions with your lip caught between your teeth. That has him swallowing the lump in his throat.

Making eye contact with him again, you take a deep breath and offer a small nod, so he gets to work. He can show you and himself he's a grown man. A grown man who can pierce a nipple without appearing like it's the first time he's seen a boob in his life. The sooner he does it, the sooner it's over.

Jungkook wets the paper towel with alcohol before carefully wiping over your nub with it. Your back arches, probably from the cold feeling, he guesses. He rubs it a few times before throwing it in the trash can nearby. He avoids looking at how enticing the soft peak is salluting him when he reaches for the marker. He doesn't say anything when he dots it with it, jaw clenched and his dick painfully stiff.

"Lay back." his voice low as he commands, turning away to get the clamp. When he slides closer, he tries to ignore the view: you, with your hair sprawled and your sweaty, shiny skin and your eyes focused on the cieling, nipple fully erect, like the star of one of his most erotic dreams. He extends his free gloved hand before he can stop himself, fingers carefully working the nub until he's sure it's painfully hard. Almost as hard as he is.

You gasp, your back arching again. He stills and looks at you, your cheeks flushed pink. Probably from the heat, he guesses again. Or at least that's what he tells himself. He can't stop himself from wondering how responsive would you be in a different setting, most likely his bed while his teeth play with your breast and his cock dives into-

"You okay?" he studies your face, your eyes not meeting his and instead still focusing on the white ceiling.

"Mhm." you reply with a small voice.

"Relax, alright? It'll be over soon." his voice is as gentle as he can, his fingers mindlessly caressing your breast to try to soothe your nerves. Or maybe it's just because he's a selfish bastard. Whatever it is, he forces himself to bring the clamp to your nipple, securing it around it.

"Take a few deep breaths. This will only take a second of pain and then it will go away." He misses the way your mouth falls open, but he doesn't miss the way your eyes squeeze tight as the needle goes in.

"Ah!" he definitely doesn't miss that either. He goes rigid for a second, because that didn't fucking sound like a cry of painfulness. It's breathy, and whiny, not too loud and, for fucks sake, if that's how you sound when you're getting fucked, he swears to God-

He feels your heartbeat under his hands when he puts the barbell in and then the bandage over it. He takes a look at you, chest moving up and down. And then you take a look at him and what he sees is almost enough to take you right there.

Reddened cheeks, drops of sweat framing your face and those eyes glazed with something he's seen too much in the women he's fucked throughout his life. They're half lidded, mascara adorning your long lashes and almost smudged, looking right through him.

"Jungkook..." and your voice, as you say his name -acknowledging him for the first time since you stepped into his shop, for the first time since you were sixteen-, it's hoarse, almost inaudible, like you just came all over his-

He's on his feet in an instant like he's been burned. "It may bleed for the first week, and it can be really sore. The swelling will eventually come down." he's quickly tidying up the table, a bottle in his hand that he hands to you without looking directly. "Wash it gently with this soap and warm water once per day. Don't touch it. Wear a comfortable...bra. If it gets crusty, clean it with saline. Not alcohol or any other thing you might clean a wound with. The soap I just gave you or saline. Nothing else."

He's pacing around the room as he takes his gloves off and throws them in the trash bin, too agressively maybe, then he keeps rambling, like he's hurriedly trying to make you leave as soon as possible. "Avoid pools and the sea. It takes about six months to a year to heal, so don't... don't touch it, don't play with it or..." he clears his throat, "don't let anyone else play with it. And if it gets infected, come back immediately and I'll take a look at it." which he honestly hopes it won't happen. When he faces you, your top is back on and you're getting off the table.

"Alright, um...I'll do that." clearing your throat, your hand gripping the doorknob. "Thank you."

But right before you can exit the room, Jungkook says your name.

"_____." when you turn around to face him, it takes a few seconds for him to make eye contact from across the room. "It was good to see you."

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"Let me see!"

It's the first thing Chaelin says when she opens the door to her appartment. It's on the second floor, small enough to compare it to most expensive appartments you'd stayed in throughout your life, but big enough for Chaelin, her cat and her -impressive- collection of acrylic nail kits and pairs of high heels. It's also big enough for her to offer you the only guest room until summer is over so you didn't have to, one, stay at your parents' place, and two, find an appartment in a short period of time for a short period of time.

When you left years ago, you did so with the thought of 'never looking back'. You never really expected to return here, of all places. Maybe visit your best friend for a weekend at most, have dinner with your parents on a saturday and then go back to the new life you'd made for yourself on a sunday.

But that was before you'd caught Adam cheating.

Tale as old as time: childhood sweethearts get engaged, move in together, son of a bitch sleeps with the assistand he told his girlfriend not to worry about, and then the brokenhearted girl packs her bags and leaves the cheating bastard begging for her to come back.

You'd be lying if you said you were surprised.

Throughout your life, you'd learned to expect many things, regardless of being sheltered and babied by your family since you were born. Watched too much Maury and Dr.Phil. Too much Gossip Girl to know what the deal with life really is.

So, thankfully, you'd only shed a few tears, mostly because your ego and self steem were slightly triggered. You'd realize long before that your feelings for Adam started to disappear once he popped the question and you said yes. Your love story began as teenagers but soon after graduating, the two of you went on different paths: you'd matured, grown into your twenties while he got stuck at 17 and never stopped acting as such.

So yeah, whatever, break ups are hard. But they're not as hard when the love is gone and the sole reason to stay with your partner is to please your parents. You were also right when you expected your mom to tell you to 'forgive and forget' because 'those things just happen, it's not a big deal, honey'.

But above all things, the last thing you expected to happen when you came back was to show your tits and get pierced by none other than motherfucking Jeon Jungkook.

Jeon Jungkook. Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

The lanky nerd with braces, glasses and an anime obsession much bigger than his hentai obsession, which is saying a lot. The shy, awkward classmate who'd stuttered his undying crush for you when you were just kids. That one who you had rudely rejected like the bitch you used to be in high school.

But my God, Jeon Jungkook was anything but a kid now.

You were shocked. You were gagged. Couldn't seem to fathom what was happening and what your eyes were seeing. It took you a while to close your mouth when you realized JK was Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie.

With messy black hair, a smoldering gaze free of glasses, piercings adorning both ears, and his right eyebrow,, the braces long gone showing perfectly straight - but still bunny like- teeth. The clothes he wore were loose, all black, but it was impossible not to notice the muscles of his back and arms, covered with tattoos from his hands to his forearms. You'd bet there were more of them underneath the fabric.

It was awkward at first. You didn't know what to do, or what to say. Didn't know if he rememberd you. So you chose to stay quiet while your body chose to react like it had never been in the presence of an attractive young man in it's entire life.

And oh, did it react.

He was reluctant, his old timid demeanor peeking through his newly adopted persona. But as soon as those hands came in contact with your skin, your whole body was lit on fire. Like you were 16 and losing your virginity over again and it was the first time a dude touched your boobs.

There shouldn't have been anything erotic about it -besides the fact that your entire breasts were exposed-, it should've been just a professional procedure. But those gloved fingers touched and pinched and suddenly you were too aware of Jeon Jungkook and the way you were starting to sweat profously, not due to the heat of the season.

You tried to distract yourself by looking at the cieling and not at his gorgeous face. Tried to avoid thinking about Jeon Jungkook and how his mouth would feel wrapped around you. Tried not to think about the way your panties were a second skin to your folds, and how tempted you were to grind your hips until you recieved some sort of friction with the jean fabric of your shorts. You wonder if he noticed you squeezing your thighs together. You hope not.

And then the needle happened. You never thought of yourself as a particularly kinky person. Sex with Adam was boring for the most part and you'd lost your libido for a long time. Stopped thinking about sex altogether. But the pain. The pain mixed with his hand rubbing soothing circles on your breast and his voice, as sweet as honey, guiding you through it. It made you reconsider a lot of things you'd once dismissed as 'weird' or 'deviant'

You swear you almost came right on his table.

And then your eyes connected, you made the mistake of calling his name like a satisfied woman who still needed more, and it was all gone. He stood up like a scared cat, gave you a bunch of explanations about the aftercare that you barely grasped without even looking at you and pretty much rushed you to leave.

So you walked, all the way from the tattoo parlor to Chaelin's appartment, mortified, and completely humilliated.

"Are you gonna let me see or not?" your friend says expectantly as you finally sit down after chugging a glass of iced water. You sigh, placing the glass on the table before carefully pulling down your top. "Oh my God, it looks so cool!" she gasps and you can't help a smile while she studies it in amazement. "Did it hurt?"

"Um, I guess." you keep out the part where you almost orgasmed, obviously, stopping her hand from touching when she reaches towards you. "Wait, no. He said something about not touching it for like six months or a year, I don't remember."

At that, Chaelin's eyebrows quirk up. "He? It was a he? Was he cute, at least?"

"You won't believe this..." looking away for a few seconds, you take a deep breath. "It was Jeon Jungkook."

There's a pause, a silence that fills the room when Chaelin's jaw drops. "Jeon Jungkook...pierced your nipple?"

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for what you're a hundred percent sure is coming.

"Ha..." there it is. "Ha ha..." you still know there's more. "Ha ha ha..."

Chaelin laughs hysterically for about God knows how long, while you keep drinking your glass of water unfaced, your mind drifting back to Guk. Gukkie. Jeongukkie, his tattoos and his stupid gloved hands.

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You know he's here.

Everything was cool, you were doing alright, having a great time with your vodka sprite in hand and your cute white bikini on. Chaelin was by your side, the guys were excited to have you back and thankfully, you'd avoided most questions about Adam and they'd avoided digging too deep into the topic. You'd sunbathed the whole afternoon, kept away from the water like he'd told you and ate the Hawaiian pizza Yoongi insisted on ordering despite Namjoon's and Jimin's complaints.

It's at night, when you're a little tipsy and your cheeks are flushed, that you feel it. You'd barely noticed Taehyung disappearing to let in a new guest.

You don't see him, but you feel him.

You're sitting on the pool tile steps, legs dangling and the water baely reaching your belly to make sure it doesn't touch your very sensitive and newly pierced nipple. Your back is facing the sliding glass doors of Hoseok's house, but the moment you hear his voice, smooth but animated as he converses with Taehyung, your body wakes up immediately, back straightening, goosebumps forming on your arms and nipples tightening against the fabric of your two piece.

You don't turn around, instead opting for downing the remaining of your drink and coming to the realization that, of course, Taehyung, social butterfly who'd always got along with everybody and remained friends with most people from high school, still keeps in touch with Jungkook.

You ignore him when he enters the pool, still peering from the corner of your eyes while pretending to be engaged in Chaelin's and Jihyo's conversation. Your mind sabotages you by taking you to that day a week ago at the tattoo parlor.

To the warmth of his hand, to the few strands of hair that his small ponytail couldn't keep together, to the way his eyes focused on such an intimate part of your body, to the endless ink decorating his skin, to-

Great. Now your bottoms are wet and not due to the water.

You don't miss Chaelin supressing a laugh and her not so subtle elbowing. You glance at her in warning and try to keep calm for the next fifteen minutes until Jin proposes moving to the living room to watch a movie.

"I'm gonna stay here for a little longer, guys." you say, after clearing your throat. You needed some time to gather yourself before being in a confined space with Jungkook.

"Are you sure?" Jin stops by your side to place a hand on your shoulder as everybody starts exiting the pool. "It's Mean Girls! You love Mean Girls! You never miss a minute of Mean Girls!"

Rolling your eyes, you wave him dismissively. "I know every dialogue on Mean Girls like the back of my hand, I think I'll be alright, Jin."

When everybody finally leaves, you take a deep breath, covering your face with your hands in an attempt to get him out of your head. Damn Jeon Jungkook and his irresisitble glow up.

"You okay?"

The unexpected voice startles you, a gasp finding its way out of your mouth and causing you to jump on your seat, heartbeat erratic as you instantly recognize who it belongs to. Your hand grasps your chest as if that would do anything to protect yourself against him.

"Shit, don't do that!" you say, the words almost getting stuck in your throat as you see him approaching you, still submerged in the pool. The more he nears you, the less water depth there is and the more visible his torso comes into view. Wich was exactly what you'd been avoiding.

Because Jeon Jungkook was ripped, as you'd imagined when you first encountered him.

Broad shoulders and strong biceps and chiseled abs and veiny forearms. Drenched hair, a full sleeve of tattoos and water dripping from delicious tan skin and all just so very hard. That paired up with a loopsided smile that does nothing but make you shudder.

"Sorry." he doesn't sound apologetic at all when he says that, the smirk adorning his features telling. "You just seemed a little off." you advert your gaze when he pushes his hair back.

"I'm fine, just...just wanted to be by myself."

"Oh" Jungkook's smile disappears. "I can leave, if you want me t-"

"No!" you're not sure where that comes from and neither does he, judging by the look on his face when your eyes find his. Eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted, he's as surprised as you and there's an awkward silence for a few seconds. "Um, you don't have to. I mean, it's not my house, you can do whatever you want." you sniff and tame your voice, trying to seem cool and collected like you didn't just practically beg him not to go.

Ironic, considering this was exactly what you had been fearing for the past thirty minutes.

And then he smiles. A knowing smile. A smile that says 'you just totally checked me out and now you don't want me to leave'. A smile that you would have never associated with Jeon Jungkook of all people years ago. A smile that makes you want to look away but still keeps you in place.

"Sure." he says, closing the space between the two of you slowly but still leaving enough distance. "So, how's it going?"

You clear your throat, head high and determined not to let this man, or any man for that matter, turn you into a trembling mess. You're still you and you're not easily shaken by the opposite sex. Or at least that's what you helplessly chant in your head.

"Everything's cool. I'm on summer vacation now," a little white lie, "so I decided to-"

"The piercing." he says, the smile never leaving his face. "I meant how's the piercing."

"The pier- right." you almost miss the step he takes forward, all too aware of his height over yours but thankful for the centimeters that being propped on the stairs added to yours. "It's-" you almost, almost miss his knee touching your knee and him slightly separating your legs with his own inch by inch. Or how your thighs open unvoluntarely to welcome him in and how you can barely find coherent words to speak. "It's doing-" or the way his smile disappears and is instead focusing his dark stare fully onto yours.

"It's doing well." you finally say in a whisper, not being able to bring yourself to be louder.

He hums. "May I see it?" Jungkook wets his lips with the tip of his tongue and the action and his voice is enough to make you nod your head, bewitched.

His movements are unhurried, his hand coming up to tentatively come in contact with the flesh of your clavicle. His fingers skim through your skin upwards, his touch is feather-like when it wraps around your throat. You pant, and he stops but he doesn't move away, his eyes still focused on yours, studying you, daring you to pull back, to tell him to back off. But just a simple touch of his and you're fully under his control. It reminds you too much of the day you got that damn piercing.

Your lips are parted and for a moment he stays just like that. His body so close to yours but not close enough, and his hand slightly gripping your neck. Your pussy clenches around nothing and you can't wrap your head around the fact that something so simple sets your entire being alive and leaves you aching.

Then, as slow as he started, his hand travels from the front of your neck to the back, pushing your hair aside to carefully untie the straps of your bikini. He breathes through his nostrils, doesn't make a sound. He seems so collected it's starting to annoy you.

Instead, your breathing is ragged when the top falls down, exposing both your breasts to him. That's when he removes his eyes from yours and his jaw clenches. Your nipples perk up under his gaze, like they remember him and the effect he had on them just a week ago. You're at least glad you're not the only one affected but he seems to be a master at keeping it under wraps.

Then, his hand moves again, leaving goosebumps on your skin as it goes south. Jungkook takes his time, so deliberate you want to scream, until he's cupping your pierced breast, keeping away from the nipple just like he'd advised you a few days prior. You can't look away from his face, from his eyes observing you like you're a full course meal and he's been starving for days. You feel drops of water falling from his hair to your thighs, his thumb caressing your skin so delicately as it faintly nears your still tender nipple. Just nearing it, never touching it.

"Beautiful." his murmur is almost imperceptible and for a moment you think you've imagined it. Your back arches on its own, breast pushed against the palm of his hand, almost like your body is begging him to come closer, to touch you more, to feel you all over. He meets your eyes briefly, gauging your reaction, before going back to your chest. Suddenly, the grip on your breast tightens, fingers ever so softly squeezing your flesh. From your throat comes a mewl, your eyes shut and your legs close around his waist.

"Jungkook, please..." you whisper when you open your eyes. He looks at you, unvertainty written all over his face, lips bruised as if he had been biting on them too hard, gaze as glassy as yours. And just like that, the spell is broken. He blinks and his expression changes completely. Lips forming a straight line and jaw tight. His hand retracts, fixing your bikini top over your breasts before tying it around your neck like it originally was. Meanwhile your eyebrows crunch in confusion. But when you're about to start asking questions, he clears his throat.

"It's healing okay." he steps back, avoiding your eyes. "I'll see you inside."

Jungkook leaves the pool like nothing happened.

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Jungkook is fiddling, fixing the position of his glasses and combing through his straight hair with shaky hands, habits he's tried so hard to get rid of in his sixteen years of existence but still finds impossible to.

He can't help it. He's always been like this: the quiet and awkward kid in class who sits in the back, a misunderstood puppy in a sea of stronger dog breeds that could eat him alive. An outcast. Too geeky for his own good. Notebokes full of Dragon Ball doodles on the margins of the pages, the shelves in his room stacked with Marvel figurines, and a closet filled with outdated clothes that he has been inheriting from his older brother.

He has never been the type to stand out, always being overlooked by people like he's invisible. He doesn't mind though. He'd much rather be ignored than getting picked on by bullies like he used to in elementary school.

He never gets invited to parties. Ever. He's a nobody who barely speaks, and when he does he either stutters or manages to embarrass himself in one way or another. He's seen the look on people's faces when they look at him. Their eyes seem to scream 'weirdo' everytime he gets acknowledged.

So obviously the only reason he was invited to this particular party had a first and last name: Kim Taehyung. The only kid in Jungkook's entire life who didn't look at him in a funny way, the only kid who took the time to entangle in a random conversation with him after class and who seemed geniune enough to make Jungkook feel comfortable.

He's not sure how it happened, since Taehyung mostly hangs out with the cool kids. But somehow it did, and now Jungkook is uncomfortably standing in a living room full of drunk teens, looking directly at you.

You, the one girl Jungkook had been pining on for God knows how long. You, who are obviously too pretty, too popular, and way out of his league. You, with your plaid skirt and your polo shirt and those legs that never seem to end. You, who are sitting with your friends in a couch, drink in hand and visibly tipsy. And yet, he doesn't think he's ever seen anyone pull of the 'drunk-rosy-cheek' look better than you.

He can hear your laugh through the music and he already thinks it sounds better than whoever is playing in the background.

"Come on, Gukkie! Her friends are leaving and she's all by herself now! It's your chance" Taehyung's obviously drunk too because it took Jungkook a while to decypher his exact words. He'd disappeared for a while and now that he's back, he's pushing Jungkook in your direction.

"This was a mistake, Taehyung." Jungkook shakes his hair and steps back, quickly glancing at the front door to prepare his escape. But his new friend's grip on his hoodie keeps him in place.

"Guk, listen. The only thing you have to do, is walk up to her, and say 'hey I think you're, like, really pretty. Just letting you know. Bye!' That's it. Jung- Dude, Guk, seriously, look at me." Taehyung grabs Jungkook's cheeks, squishing them between his hands and forceing him to face him. "You've been crushing hard on her for years, my man. We're graduating and you won't see each other again. What's the worst thing that can happen? Getting rejected?"

Jungkook's eyebrows draw together. "Um, yeah?"

"Exactly! Getting rejected is not the end of the world, bro! It just means keep trying on other girls!" Taehyung releases his hold on Jungkook's cheeks. "I just think you're going to regret not telling your crush she's your crush. Who knows? Maybe in the future you two will get married."

Jungkook snickers, muttering a 'yeah right' under his breath. Still, he can't help the smile that Taehyung's words always seem to pull out of him.

"Now," Taehyung playfully slaps Jungkook before turning him in your direction again. "Go get 'em, tiger!"

"Okay," Mijoo's voice slices through Jungkook's memories. She's sitting on Jungkook's desk, munching on her brownies and looking at her coworker expectantly. "And then what?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, sits back on his chair, already feeling the effects of Mijoo's baked goods. "And then I walked up to her, like a damn fool, stutter and all. And I say:" he clears his throat, making an effort to do his best teenage Gukkie impression."'Hey, _____, um, so, I think you're beautiful and I've had a crush on you since seventh grade, haha, just wanted to let you know.'"

Mijoo rolls her eyes, still chewing. "And then what?"

"And then she looked me up and down, giggled, fucking giggled, Mijoo, and said 'Who are you, again?'" Mijoo gasps and Jungkook closes his eyes, trying to force that recollecion out of his head.

"What a bitch." she can't help but laugh before apologizing. Jungkook merely shrugs his shoulders and takes another bite of his brownie. "She didn't say anything else?"

"She said something along the lines of:" he clears his throat again, this time, doing an impression of you. "'That's sweet and all but, you and I... we're not the same. And I have a boyfriend, so...' She said that like I didn't know, like I wasn't aware of the school's it couple! Like I was dumb!"

Mijoo nods. "And now you want to fuck her even more than you did in high school."

"I- No! Well, yes. Fuck, of course I want to sleep with her! But I just... can't."

"Why not?"

"Did you hear anything about what I just told you or were you too concentrated trying to get high?"

It's Mijoo's turn to roll her eyes. "I heard everything you just told me. I just don't understand what the problem is. You two were sixteen. Sure, she was a bitch about it, but Lord knows I've been a bitch my entire life and now I'm not anymore." Jungkook raises an eyebrow at that. "Okay, sometimes I can be nice. But the point is..." Mijoo finishes her piece of brownie before getting off of Jungkook's desk. "It's been, what? Nine? Ten years? People change, JK. You're the best example of that. You want to fuck her and she obviously wants to fuck you too. You're both adults." she wipes her hands on her shorts. "I think it's time you fulfill that high school fantasy of yours."

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You've made up your mind.

And by you, it means Chaelin has made up your mind.

It didn't take long to convince you though. That last interaction with Jungkook cause too many emotions stirring within you. It left you hot, it left you bothered, it left you confused. Sure, it also left you a little bit embarrassed like the first time, but above everything else, that interaction with Jungkook left you absolutely livid.

Because who the fuck did Jeon Jungkook, formerly known as Guk, Gukkie, Jungukkie, and currently known as JK, think he was to come near you, speed your heart rate's up, and then runaway like that?

You've spent days thinking about it. About that face, about that body, about those hands and- shit. You're doing it again.

You've spent days trying to push those intrusive thoughts. Spent days trying to bury what happened. You've spent days trying to keep quiet, not telling anyone about it and just wishing that stupid spark of desire simply went away.

But it has just been simply unavoidable. You haven't been able to ignore the sleepless nights with your brain drifting back to that night and forbidding your hand from slipping under your panties. Or the excessive amount of time during the day where images of him suddenly popped in your head and wouldn't go away, even with you squeezing your thighs to try to make the ache go away.

So you ended up ranting and ranting and ranting to the only person you could confide on, who is obviously your best friend. Your best friend, who's too smart for her own good and knows you too well for your liking. Because apparently your moodiness and snappy remarks couldn't go unnoticed.

And after explaining the fiasco over a bottle of wine -and minutes of endless laughing on Chaelin's part because, again, it's Gukkie you two were talking about and, according to her, this was "the most karmic thing I've ever seen"-, she gave you the best advice an older sister could ever give.

"Fuck him."

"I know right? Fuck him!"

"No. I mean, fuck him."

And now here you are. Right inside that room you stepped in weeks ago, confronting the man in question with the same confidence that has always distinguished you from others and trying to act like the fluttering inside your belly wasn't nauseauting.

"A date."

"Yes."

"You want to go on a date with me." this wouldn't be so hard if Jungkook didn't look so delectable in a plain white t-shirt and ripped jeans. You cross your arms over your chest, doing your best to not look down at the exposed skin of a man who obviously worked out a lot and apparently, never skipped leg day. "What's the catch?"

He's sitting on his chair, back resting comfortably and legs spread, narrowing his eyes at you and probably wondering why the girl at the front desk let you in without an appointment. Also, probably wondering if there was a catch to all of this.

"There's no catch. I just want to go to the fair this weekend. I'll ask Taehyung for your number and text you the date and the exact place we'll be meeting. Unless..." your quirk one of your eyebrows. "Unless you're already planning on how you'll chicken out this time."

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Of course, Jungkook says yes to going on a date with his high school crush but spends the following days overthinking every single thing.

He can't help but feel like it's kinda sketchy. What if you're planning your vendetta on him? What if you don't even show up and he ends up there looking like a damn idiot? What if you hate him and are just messing up with him? What if that incident in high school is going to repeat itself?

"If she doesn't show up, you simply move on and never speak to her again. It's that simple. She can't have that much power over you to cry about something like that." Mijoo had said that same day she let you in the tattoo parlor after you'd asked to see Jungkook. Jungkook's coworker hadn't even question you and just motioned you to Jungkook's room with a knowing smile on her face. Later that day, Jungkook had scolded her about it and she'd simply shrugged.

He considers cancelling, eyes reading the 'won't be able to make it, sorry (sad face emoji)' over and over again and fingers hovering over the send button so many times he's lost count. But then he remembers that comment of yours about him chickening out and Jungkook starts seeing red.

How couldn't you understand he's just terrified of you rejecting him one more time? Sure, Jungkook is now an adult who doesn't get butthurt over stuff like that. He's experienced too much after graduating from high school and he's a much stronger individual than his fragile self back was back then.

But something about you just makes him feel so... weak.

He still finds it impossible to concieve where he got the courage to approach you like that at Taehyung's pool, or how he brought himself to touch you for longer than a minute without coming in his pants. He'd enjoyed it too much. Allowing him to see you so exposed, just for him. He'd be so tempted to kiss you right there and then, to run his hands up and down your thighs and fully wrap your legs around him to let you known how much you'd affected him. Once you called his name, it was like he'd finally snapped out of it and backed away like he'd been burned by you. He spent the next twenty minutes trying to keep himself from pulling down his pants and jerking off in his friend's bathroom.

It's terrible. Because he feels like the teenager he used to be when you're around. Shy, insecure and overall a mess. You showing up in his life after so many years and now apparenly being interested in him seems like a dream that he's not sure he wants to keep being in or wake up from before it's too late and he falls back into that tumoltuous longing that will inevitably end up in heartbreak. His heartbreak.

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It's saturday night, he's standing by himself in the crowded fair at the spot. You're fifteen minutes late and he's already about to turn back and dip out. He feels too awkward and the nerves are eating him alive.

You're not going to show up. You're not going to show up and now he feels and looks even dumber than the time he told you he was crushing on you. You're not even going to show up and now he's going to come back home, get drunk by himself and curse your name for-

"Hey!" he turns around to the sound of your voice and sees you running towards him. "Sorry I'm late! I couldn't find my phone and spent like thirty minutes looking for it. Turns out, Sharon Stone, was taking a nap on top of it and I didn't even notice."

"Sharon Stone?"

"Chaelin's cat."

To be honest, he's too surprised to process your explanation right away. He might also be a little speechless because that sky blue sundress looks too good on your skin and your eyelashes are so long, framing your beautiful eyes, and your lips are all glossy and kisseable that it takes him a while to find his own voice.

He clears his throat. "It's alright." scratching the back of his head, he momentarely adverts his gaze from you in an attempt to not get distracted by how soft your hair looks and how much he wants to wrap it around his hands in a ponytail. "Um, where do you want to go first?"

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Almost an hour and a half later, when the sun has already disappeared and you're both surrounded by colorful lights, Jungkook decides to buy the both of you hot dogs and a drink and you both settle down on a bench.

You've been walking all over the fair, going from booth to booth, playing any game in sight Jungkook dared you to -he obviously had a competitive streak-: from the ballon and dart games, to the shooting games, to the bumping cars, to the ball-in-basket one. To say you were having fun was an understatement.

You'd almost regretted setting the date up. You were sure he wouldn't even show up and if he did, you were scared of how awkward things could get between the two of you. And if things were awkward, you were sure it would only take less than thirty minutes for the both of you to part ways and never talk again about such failure of a date.

To your surprise, none of that happened.

The conversation was flowing, both of you acting like you were strangers on their first date getting to know each other, which, to be fair, that's exactly what it felt like. There was a slight banter, teasing each other when one of you lost in whatever game you were playing while the other was obviously winning. There were laughs and a funny feeling in your tummy whenever you'd walk side by side and his arm brushed yours.

There was no stiffness on his shoulders, no mention of the past or your previous encounters, no acknowledgement of the blatant sexual tension you'd experienced before, not an ounce of avoidance whenever your eyes met his and he was even sure of himself enough to place a hand on your lower back or briefly interwine your fingers with his to guide you through the mass of people.

It felt like you'd both unspokenly agreed on making each other feel comfortable enough to have a good time.

"I didn't think you were going to show up, to be honest." you suddenly say, taking a sip of your strawberry juice and thankful to finally let your feet rest for a while.

Jungkook looks at you, hot dog mid air and eyebrows almost disappearing into his hairline. "You didn't think I was going to show up? I didn't think you were going to show up." you simply shrug, lowering your gaze seepishly, the beginning of a smile on both your faces. He surprises you by tilting your head in his direction with his forefinger. You watch him watching you, a little dazed, a little lost in how his dark hair messily falls over his forehead and his equally dark eyes study your face, his thumb swiping over your lower lip. "You um... There was ketchup right there." he lies.

"Oh" you say, feeling your face heating up. "Thanks. Red doesn't really match this dress." you manage a smile and tuck a lock of your hair behind your ear.

At that, he eyes your dress for a moment, mouth slightly ajar. He's debating on whether or not to say something but you beat him to it.

"I'm sorry, by the way."

"For being late? I already told you it's fin-"

"No." you shake your head. "For... that time when we were young and I was such a concieted brat." you say, looking away , trying to find anything else that's not his pretty face. "I thought I was a queen bee back then. I was annoying and rude, specially to you. I..." you lick your lips. The cherry glittery gloss was already gone. "I thought it was cute, what you said. There was no reason for me to act like that. I know this doesn't make anything right but..." when you turn to face him again, there's still the same expression on his face. "I'm sorry."

A few seconds go by before it's him who's shaking his head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago, anyway." he smiles at you, although it doesn't reach his eyes and seems sorta forced. You sigh, and he takes your hand. "Let's go to the ferris wheel."

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

tell you're tense. You're sitting right beside him in the ferris cabin, your back is all straight, you're facing forward and he believes you haven't blinked for what feels like an eternity. He thinks it has everything to do with your conversation a few minutes ago. You were probably not content with his response but what could Jungkook do? There was really no point in apologizing for something that happened years ago, but at the same time, he didn't want to hold anything against you like a resentful asshole because it was really not who he was. But there was still a little bit of stingyness inside of him and he didn't know how to make it go away.

At the end of the day, here you were, on a date with him that you'd asked for, getting along and asking questions about him and laughing at his jokes and trying to start all over again.

But then the ferris wheel starts moving, and he finally understands why you look so uncomfortable.

It's the way you immediately grip his forearm, nails digging in his skin and he swears he hears the smallest gasp forcing itself out your throat.

"Are you... scared?" he tentatively asks.

You say nothing for a while, not moving an inch. He would laugh if you didn't look so pained about it.

"I don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters." you finally say through gritted teeth.

"It's not really that small and ferris wheels are not rollercoasters. " your nails dig deeper and he winces. "Okay, okay. You don't like small confined spaces nor rollercoasters, and that includes ferris wheels. So why didn't you tell me?"

"I don't know. I've never liked ferris wheels but you seemed excited about it, so..."

There's a silence after that in the environment, neither of you exactly sure of what to say or how to act. Until Jungkook moves one of his hands hands until it's resting on the one who's holding onto him for dear life, fingers caressing yours. The warmth of his hand spreads through yours and although it's almost July and you can already feel your sweaty back staining your dress, it's oddly comforting. What's more comforting even, is him twisting his body towards you and talking with the calmest and most soothing tone you've ever heard.

"Look at me." you do instantly, unwillingly, and kinda wish you hadn't. It's almost as if your body will do anything he says without question. Like he has some sort of power over it to just react however he wants. His eyes bore into yours and suddenly the cab doesn't seem so suffocating. "It's just you and me right now. We're not even on a ferris wheel." the corners of his mouth turn slowly upwards. You zone out the environment, suddenly too aware of him and how close he is and how loud the beating of your heart is to your own ears.

"Jungkook."

You swallow the knot in the back of your throat when he removes his hand from yours. It almost makes you protest, - now realizing you've losened the tight grip on his arm- , before it craddles your face, keeping you in place while bringing his body closer.

"You have to stop saying my name like that."

With his thigh touching your thigh, your whole demeanor melts. When he leans closer, and you feel his breath fanning over your lips, your eyes shut closed.

"Tell me I can-" he starts to say.

"Yes." you finish for him. He doesn't doubt on closing the distance between you two. His lips touch yours and your body shakes in excitement. It's just him lightly skimming your lips with his but it's already too much and at the same time, not enough. It has you deepening it, yourself moving closer when he kisses you again. It has you relaxing against him, the tenseness prior disappearing and making you arch your back when his tongue asks for permission.

But it's exactly then, the moment you open your lips to him, that has you losing your mind.

The sparks fly, traveling from your head to your toes and then settling on the pit of your stomach as soon as the kiss starts to turn desperate and rough. When he nibbles your lips with his teeth, it makes you mewl and whine and your nipples tight against the cotton of your dress. It makes the metal barbell to feel uncomfortable, slightly painful. And when he goes back to being messy and filthy with his tongue tangled with yours, your thighs close on their own.

He forces himself to pull his hand back and bring it down, finding the parting of yd opening them for him. "Wait," you say, your fingers wrapping around his forearm as you try to catch your breath."The ferris-" he shuts you up with another kiss.

"We're not on a ferris wheel." he reminds you, a soft whisper against your mouth. And for whatever reason, you believe him.

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"He fingered you on the ferris wheel."

"Yes."

"And you came before the ride was over."

You take a small sip of wine, your eyes focusing on the TV where a rerun of the Golden Girls is playing, although, to be fair, lately you haven't been able to pay much attention to anything else but a certain brunet with doe eyes and kisseable lips. "Yes."

She hums, stealing a handful of popcorn from the bowl between your thighs.

"How long did it took? Like five minutes?"

There's a pause in which you clench your jaw, your fingers twitching around the glass in your hand, and then you answer. "Probably less."

There's another pause, and then-

"Ha...Ha ha...Ha ha ha-"

You let her laugh. It's okay. You knew you had it coming.

Chaelin knows the pillow you throw right at her face is also something she had coming.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

It's not that you're mad.

Jungkook and you had a great time on that fair date, he made you laugh, bought hot dogs and drinks for the two of you and got you off inside the cab of a ferris wheel on record time with those magical, long fingers of his. Technically, there shouldn't be anything to be angry about.

Except it's been a week and you can't stop thinking about him, about wanting more, and about those words that he left you with after the ferris wheel ride ended, when you had tried to return the favor.

'Next time, maybe.'

And there hasn't been a next time.

The thought of texting him or giving him a call to ask for another date is persistent in your mind. It remains while you do the laundry or wash the dishes, while you shower, while you eat or while you spend your days at the beach with Chaelin. There's always the incessant desire to reach out towards your phone, unlock it and dial his number to beg for more.

But you'd never been one to beg, so you resist the urge everytime that feeling starts to creep up on you and it washes over you like a wave. You silence your phone and try to concentrate on making the most out of your summer.

It's one random night, when you're tiredly dragging your feet across Chaelin's apartment's carpet, yawning and ready to succumb to a well needed slumber, that you see your phone screen's lighting up with a message.

Your heart pathetically leaps inside your chest when you read his name.

'you free on saturday?'

You wish you could say you ghosted him, ignored his text and moved on with your life until it was him who begged you for another date. But the truth is you opened it in a matter of seconds and typed 'i'm free, why?' back in a rush with trembling fingers.

So now you're on the passanger seat of his car while he sits on the driver seat, the first saturday night of July, like he's Danny Zuko and you're Sandy Olsson, watching a vintage movie in a drive-in theater which plot you don't give a shit about, even if Jungkook's date plan idea made something inside of you churn with adoration.

And the only reason why you don't give a single damn about the movie playing in front of your eyes, is because you're hot. Way too hot. And the reason and cause is none other than the boy-now-turned-man sitting on your left.

You barely exchanged words when he picked you up, just rode in silence until you got to your destination and you bet he can feel as well as you do the tension in the air.

You've surveyed him a few times from the corner of his eye, noticing him fiddling with the rings around his fingers and shifting in his seat from time to time. And if the sight of his fingers bring memories that you've tried to bury to keep yourself from lunching towards him, a brief glance at his forearms, adorned with ink drawn through his golden flesh -doing a poor job at concieling the veins running underneath- and his skin-tight jeans wrapping those muscled thighs of his is enough to have you be the one squirming in your seat.

A woman can only endure so much, and you come to that realization thirty minutes into the movie.

"I want to suck your cock." you say, a stern expression on your face as you turn your body in his direction.

Jungkook frozes as your voice slides over him. It takes him a couple seconds to look at you, shock widening his eyes and parting his lips.

"Huh?" he manages, his grip on the steering wheel turning his knuckles white.

Without separating your gaze from his, you gather your hair and tie it in a ponytail with the hair tie previously around your wrist. You don't miss the quick glance he sneaks into the curvature of your neck and the valley between your breasts.

Inching forward, closing in on him, you place one of your hands on top of his thigh, the action making his whole body tense. "____..." he whispers your name in a warning that doesn't sound convincing even in his own ears.

You smile, your eyes never wavering from his as your hand inches upwards, slowly caressing over the fabric of his jeans until you finally come across what you were looking for.

His hand flies to your wrist, stilling your movements. "____, this is not-". He starts, but his voice gets stuck inside his throat when you palm his undoubtly growing erection.

"Shh." your shaky breath fans over his cheek and you force yourself on your knees on the passanger seat in a more comortable possition to stop the trembling to reach them.

You fumble with the belt holding his pants in place, then with the button and finally with the zipper. He helps you by lifting his hips to pull his jeans and boxers to his thighs and you have to bite back a mixture between a gasp and a moan at the sight below you. You haven't even seen Jeon Jungkook naked all the way, but the mere sight of his hard cock with pre-cum glistening on his crown is probably the sexiest thing you've ever had the pleasure of appreciating.

It gets sexier when you wrap your hand around the base and his body melts in the driver seat, throwing his head back with his eyes shut. It gets even sexier when you finally lower your head, swirling your tongue over the head before finally engulfing him fully in the wet warmth of your mouth.

"Shit." his voice is tight, uneven as his hand loosely grips your ponytail, as if careful not to accidentally hurt you and break the glorious moment.

Although you wouldn't mind at all. Because the moment your hands are on him, and your tongue is on his shaft, that's the only thing you care about. Your belly is twisting, an undeniable wet spot on your panties as the fabric sticks to your folds, and the more you suck Jungkook, the more you want from him. His earthy taste is addicting and the soft little whimpers he occasionally can't prevent himself from are making you want to milk him until he can't take it no more. There's this desire within you to whorship him and his cock like you had been dreaming for the past weeks.

"This is s-so fucking h-hot." he rasps between ragged breaths, the bobbing of your head, sliding up and down his dick as your hand works the centimeters your mouth can't take is about to make him faint.

"Getting a blowjob?" you joke, your throat starting to feel sore as you kiss his leaking tip.

"N-no." he draws in a rough breath when you take him all of him again. "You giving me a blowjob... T-the f-fact that anyone c-could see us..." he darts a quick glance at your body, your ass up in the air and your dress sliding down, almost exposing you completely. "The fact that-ah! Shit..." he squeezes his eyes when he feels a glob of your spit lubricating him.

There's a sudden need to make you feel the same, to touch your skin and have you shaking the same way you have him. So one of his hands travels from your spine, to your perked ass, finally dragging the cotton of your dress to allow himself to see your thin white panties. "The fact that anyone could see you l-like this," he murmurs, regaining a little bit of control when he squeezes one of your cheeks. "letting t-them see you s-sucking my cock and..." he smirks when he feels you gasping around him, his fingers trapped between your thighs and pushing them inside your heat easily "and letting them see me fingering this pretty little pussy."

Soon after that he's cumming in your mouth while you're cumming around his fingers.

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At first, it's mostly on weekends when you see each other. Weekends of stolen kisses and soft sighs and whispering against each other's lips. Then weekends turn to week days, sitting on grass while sipping on refreshing beverages, drawing each other laughs, elbows touching as you walk around the park side by side because the both of you are too scared to interwine your fingers together.

Jungkook feels content like this: sitting on the sand with you between his thighs, admiring the sunset while nuzzing your neck and inhaling your scent every now. He likes waching you enoying your strawberry ice cream, almost forgetting the chocolate chip one already melting in his hand.

"If you were an ice cream flavor,which one would you be?" you ask him, relaxing against his chest.

"Rocky road."

"Why?"

He shrugs behind you. "Everyone likes rocky road."

You hum, playfully rolling your eyes. "What about me? Which ice cream flavor would I be?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer."

"Lemon sherbet? Out of all of the flavours out there, you're rocky road and I'm lemon sherbet?"

"Lemon sherbet, in the summer." he corrects.

"Okay, fine. Why?"

"You're boring and basic."

You gasp, trying to feign outrage but not being able to repress the laugh that escapes your throat. You elbow him, his laugh mixing with yours while taking the time to wrap his arms around your form, the breeze blowing your hair allowing him a spot between your neck and your shoulder. "You're boring and basic, but once you have a taste..." he presses a small kiss on your skin, causing the tiny hairs on the nape of your neck to rise. "Once you have a taste, specially on the hottest day in the middle of summer, you can't stop tasting and licking until there's no more lemon sherbet left."

You suck in on a breath when he craddles your jaw to face him. "It's been my favourite flavor since I was a kid." he kisses you immediately after, his lips swallowing the small whimper now stuck in your throat.

You close your eyes as his tongue opens your mouth, arousal blasting your insides and something much, much deeper that you fear to even name shredding your chest.

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The beginning of august comes faster then you two realize, but what you both do realize is how hard it's becoming to stay away from each other.

It's been thirty days of dates happening almost everyday, sharing high school memories and anecdotes of the time you spent away from each other. Hours of getting to know each other and opening up to each other. From failed relationships to new friendships. Of park dates walking side by side and fingers now interwined because you both realized one day that, fuck it.

It's difficult to sleep when you realize you're starting to catch serious feelings for somebody who was just supposed to be a fling. It's hard to sleep when his face, his voice and his touch and thoughts of missing him when you don't see each other start haunting you at night.

It's hard for Jungkook to focus on work when you're everything that's occupying his mind. Because he has a hundred sketches to make but he's too busy thinking about the hundred different sketches he would make of you.

It's hard not to send him a goodnight text, just like it's hard for him not to reply in a matter of seconds, almost as if he was already waiting to recieve it.

Jungkook thinks of you at night. Of how pretty and absolutely perfect you are for him. Of the taste of your lips, the way your hair feels between his fingers, or the flush on your cheeks when he makes you cum as droplets of sweat accumulate between your breasts. He thinks about your voice. He also thinks about the amount of hours left to be able to listen to it again.

But mostly he thinks about how ridiculous this situation is. Because he was stupidly crushing on you when you were only teenagers, daydreaming about a chance with you. And now his crush is long gone and he's starting to realize that he's falling, and falling fast.

You, too, think of Jungkook at night. Of his ability to bring a smile out of you, to soothe you with just a few words and filling your belly excitement, happiness and feelings you're sure you've never felt before.

Jungkook's managed to imprint himself in your dreams, and you, in his.

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Getting drunk with Jungkook is fun and messy.

It's fun because he lets loose, he stutters a lot like he used to do when he was a teenager and he makes you laugh louder than ever before. It's messy because he has no control over his hands as they explore your body, clumsily taking your clothes off as his mouth laps at the breast he's allowed to touch.

He's more forceful and dominating too, pinning your hands above your head, and commanding you to keep them right there, on the pillows of his bed. When you rebel against it, your fingers finding the hard planes of his chest, he pulls away from you and places them back where he left them. "Don't make me tie you up." he threatens, and your body shudders beneath him.

He sucks, and bites and leaves marks all over your skin, grunting in response to your moans. Creating a path of kisses from your lips to your stomach, his shoulders separating your knees, opening you up only for him. And thankfully, when you reach down to tug at the strands of hair framing his face, he lets you, because he knows you need something to hold on to the moment his tongue eats you up. He leaves his fingertrips on your thighs as he keeps you in place, not allowing you to runaway. Just forcing you to take it as he takes from you.

And when you cum, he doesn't back away. He keeps sucking, and licking and punishing you with his mouth until you're cumming over and ove again, screaming and begging for his cock.

Having Jungkook over you, both completely naked, skin to skin and only sweat in between is more than you could've ever fantazised about. He slurls your name when he puts the condom on. He would do anything to feel you raw, but he also knows he wouldn't be able to last a minute. The sight of you spread open, with your cheeks darkened by a crimson blush and your hair tangled all over his pillow is a picture he wants to keep forever.

He enters you when you call his name, your voice dripping with need. He stretches your warm and wet felsh, slowly easing himself into you at first, until he's fully inside and your bodies are completely in union. A shiver runs down Jungkook's spine when he looks at your contorted face in pleasure, your lips forming an 'O' and your pussy clenching around him.

"Oh, my God." you moan into the dark of Jungkook's room, and even then, he can clearly appreciate every curve of your body lifting off the mattress to connect with his. He lowers himself on his elbows on either side of your head, caging you in and capturing your mouth with his.

"I know, baby." he murmurs. It's hot, in the middle of August but suddenly Jungkook doesn't hate summer as much as he used to. Not with you sharing the heat with him. "It's way beyond what I could ever imagine." You nod hurriedly against his lips, your arms finding their way around his neck as he starts rocking in and out of you.

"It's too good." you cry, when he hits a particular spot that has you rolling your eyes in bliss and gripping his waist tighter with your legs against you. Your fingers thread through his hair, not bothered by the beads of sweat gathered on the nape of his neck.

"Too good..." he agrees, not missing the shiver that's shaking your own frame when he picks up his speed. "You have no idea what I would do t-to fucking feel you with n-no barriers between us," his movements become frantic as his hips slap against yours, his jaw clenched as he keeps talking, "to s-stuff you full of my c-cum over and over again until it won't stop d-dripping."

Jungkook's voice against your ear has you trembling and your orgasm nearing closer, your nails scratching down his back as his thrusts overpower your form. "Would you like that?" he asks with his voice strangled.

"Y-yes. Anything y-you want."

"You'd take all of my cum like a good cum-slut?"

You hate the fact that that's what makes you come undone. The twisting and knotting in the pit of your stomach finally snapping until you're holding on to him like you never want to let him go and he's following soon after.

Because if Guk, Gukkie, Jengukkie was not only able to make you come in less than a few minutes with his fingers or his tongue, but he was also able to make you cum instantly just by calling you a good cum-slut, that means you're fucked. Like, really, really fucked.

≿━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━༺❀༻━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━≾

There's a knot in Jungkook's stomach and a suffocating grip around his vocal chords as he caresses your skin. The sun is rising in the distance with the first rays of light entering his room through the window. Your shamphoo is intoxicating him, numbing him and enticing him to bury his nose in the tangled curls pressing against his chest. Your arm is thrown across his stomach, your breathing leavig goosebumps all over his body.

"It's too early. Go back to sleep." you mumble against his heart. He wonders if you can feel it dangerously speeding up.

"I can't." he says, voice struggling to stay balanced. "I have to tell you something."

You hum in response, sleep still interwined with your body, your arm tightening around him. You sigh in content, expecting him to elaborate.

He wets his suddenly dry lips. "I don't want this to end. In fact, ____.... I want more. Need more."

"Jungkook..." your whole body goes rigid right away, untanglling your bodies from each other and sitting up on the mattress.

"No, listen to me." he mimicks your movements, rapidly grabbing your hands to make you look at him. His eyes are expressive, a mixture of fear and hope swirling in his dark irises. "I wake up everyday, and you're the first thing I think of. I go on about my day, and I keep thinking about you, wondering what you're doing and counting down the hours until I get to see you again. I spend every night dreaming about you, and when we'e together, the only thing I can think about is how I wish I could stop time so I don't have to say bye to you the next morning. ____, I-"

"Jungkook, stop please." you shake your head, pushing away from him and in desperate need of air. You press a hand against your chest, beating back the throb of pain while the other curls in a tight fist, the feeling of your fingernails digging into your palm less painful than the ache inside your heart. "This... This wasn't supossed to happen, Jungkook." you start pacing around the room, as if trying to find an exit while avoiding his gaze. "This was just a summer fling. That's all it was, I'm supposed to come back to the city in two weeks and-"

"A summer fling?" a sardonic sneer comes out of him. "Oh my God, I can't believe this is happening again..." he mumbles to himself before rising from the bed. You stop immediately, a shiver quaking through you as his impressive frame intimidates His eyebrows are drawn together and his dark eyes are void of any prior emotion. "You're going back to the city in two weeks? And you didn't care to tell me until now, after I just spilled my guts to you?"

You eyes fill up with uncomfortable tears, reaching one arm towards him. "Jung-"

He flinches, taking one step back. "A summer fling is all I mean to you?"

"Ju- "

"Look me in the eyes, right now, and tell me that's all I mean to you. A summer fling." panic crawls up your throat. There's the need within you to confirm, to stare into his beautiful and stern eyes and tell him that, yes, that's all he is to you. But you've never been a good liar. So nothing comes out. You opt for wrapping your ams around yourself wishing they were his and lowering your eyes to the ground. "I think... I think you should leave."

Those are the last words he says to you, and the last thing you see when you turn around one more time after gathering your clothes, is his back as he looks out the window.

You allow yourself to cry the exact moment you step into Chaelin's apartment. Your friend is sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in hand and a fresh cup of coffee sitting on the livingroom's table.

"Hey, you're early tod- Baby, what's wrong?"

"Please, don't laugh."

That morning, you lay down for hours on the couch with your head on Chaelin's lap while she softly brushes your hair as you cry, hiccup, fight through the pain in your heart and relate to her as best as you can the latest events.

She doesn't laugh at all.

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"She'll come back." Mijoo's slurred words do nothing to put Jungkook's state at ease that night. He simply shrugs, fingers clenching at his sides, frowing into his drink before gulping down the bitter taste of vodka in one shot. "Seriously, I think she's just afraid. My ex was the same."

"Comparing her to your ex is not the analogy you think it is."

"Ugh, shut up. Things didn't work with my ex because she was a bitch." Jungkook gives Mijoo a pointed look which she responds to by rolling her eyes and sipping on her rum coke. "Your girl is not a bitch. She used to be a bitch. What she did this morning was bitchy, but, like I said, she's just being a pussy. If she only wanted sex with you, she wouldn't have been doing couple stuff with you the entire summer."

"Whatever. I don't care." he lies and Mijoo knows he's lying but decides to drop the subject fo now.

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"We can't keep spending our days smoking weed." Chaelin speaks over Blanche's voice on the TV.

"I know. I'm just sad."

"You have to come back and tell him how you feel."

"I know."

There's a beat of silence before your friend kicks your thigh with her feet.

"I know and I will." you mumble through red eyes and smoke clouds.

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It's September first and it doesn't feel like Jungkook's birthday at all. He's been trying to focus on his work, alternating between isolating in full hermit mode and hanging out with friends to drink away his sorrow. The days have gone by and before he could realize it, he woke up today with over twenty text messages wishing him a happy day and a throbbing hangover.

He dresses up on autopilot. First a cotton shirt, then a pair of jeans and lastly, his Nike's. He doesn't bother tying his sneakers just like he doesn't bother taking a shower. He smokes a cigarette for breakfast, the death stick making him feel nauseaus on an empty stomach. And then he goes to work.

He's been repeating the same routing for the past weeks and he's not thinking of changing it, not even on his bithday.

He spends hours drawing, tattooing and drawing some more between yawns. He ignores texts an phone calls and simply waits until the day is over to go home, go to bed and forget about the fact that you're probably on your way to the city and that he hasn't crossed your mind not even once.

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Inkphoria.

You've been standing outside the shop re-reading the word for fifteen minutes, although it definitely feels like it has been longer. You're gripping cup of ice cream as it melts down your fingers the more you wait. The shop is already empty and it's starting to darken out side, and still you're so hot. Your shorts are heavy and your tank top is sticking to your skin. You didn't even bother to put on any make, although your eyebags definitely needed some concieling and your lashes some dimension to hide the fact that you'd been crying for the last few days.

'You're crazy about him.'

Chaelin's voice echoes inside your head.

You've lost count of how many times your best friend has given your advice, or simply encouraged you to do something you've been too scared to try.

'And he's cazy about you too.'

Chaelin might be wrong about marmite and the movie Cats, but she's definitely now wrong about anything regarding your and Jungkook.

That's it. You briefly close your eyes, inhale a deep breath then release it slowly. You start walking. It doesn't take longer than three strides and you're pushing the door open.

The tattoed blonde looks up from the counter the second you come into view. She smiles at the distance between you two. "You can come closer. I won't bite."

You clear your throat, stalking closer to her. "Is he-"

"He's in the back." she replies before you can finish you question. You close your mouth, clear your throat and nod your head.

"Thanks, Mijoo." she gives you a small wink, her smile easing your nerves like she had three months ago.

She watches you disappear. She shakes he head, her smile meeting her eyes. "I told him so."

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Jungkook ignores the knock on his door at first. It's almost ten and the parlor is about to close. He just has to finish this last fucking sketch so he can grab his shit and go the fuck ho-

Knock knock.

He growls, exhasperation cursing through him. He runs a hand through his messy pile of hair, his rings tangling between the strands, making him wince in pain. "Come in." he grunts under his breath. The door opens. "Mijoo, I really have to finish-"

He stops dead in his tracks as soon as he sees you.

"Hey." you say after a moment of hesitation.

"Hey." he replies and although there's something inside, deep in his chest, shouting at him to stand up, run up to you and kiss your face while he tells you how beautiful you look right now and how happy he is to see that you're still here, he decides against it. "Listen, ____, I'm pretty busy-"

"No, you listen to me." you cut him off abruptly. He looks taken aback and is already opening his mouth to say something, but you're not having it. "Please, just... Let me talk."

Silence looms between the two of you for a while, a staring contest defying each other to back down. When you take one step inside and close the door behind you, he sighs and leans back against his chair.

You move towards him slowly, your lip caught between your lip going through your mind for the speech you'd been preparing the last few days. Your hands are sticky due to the the sugary treat liquifying in your hand. "I know there's no reason you should give me another chance after rejecting you in high school, and there's definitely no reason why you should forgive me for the way I shut you out a few weeks ago. You've been confessing your feelings to me since we were teenagers, and now it's my turn to tell you exactly how I feel about you."

"Jungkook, the truth is... I like you so much. I like you more than I've ever liked anyone. Ever. I said this was just a summer fling, and I was lying. I was lying because there's no way a simple summer fling could make me feel the way you do. There's no way a simple summer fling could make me want not just summer with you, but also fall and winter, and spring and every summer that comes next."

You hadn't realize when your eyes filling up with tears until the sight of him starts blurrying in front of you. His fingers reach yours, his thumb comforting on your skin. "____, it's okay-"

"I'm not done yet." you sniffle, gathering enough courage to continue. "I brought you a lemon sherbet because you said it was your favourite. But you also implied I was your favourite, and I want to keep being you favourite, but now it's already melted and-"

The corners of Jungkook's lips start pulling upward as he tugs you towards him, his heart loudly jumping inside his chest. "Shhh, come here."

He takes the ice cream from your hand and places it on his desk. Then he's helping you onto his lap, your head tucked under his chin and your arms wapping on their own around his neck.

He doesn't care about your sticky fingers or the wet stains of your tears in his shirt. The only thing he cares about is the fact that you're right there, letting him engulf your frame and drown in the scent and warmth he'd misses so much.

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The first day of June has Jungkook sweating and wishing for a haircut. Jungkook usually hates summer. He hates the fact that he has to shower at least twice a day, and the fact that the heat is almost unbearable to sleep in and also the fact that he's easily sunburnt.

This year, however, Jungkook likes summer a little bit more.

"Excuse me, miss. Do you have an appointment?" it's the fact that you're starting to wear those summer dresses he loves so much, and the fact that your skin glows under the sun like glitter, and also the fact that he can lick ice cream off of it whenever he desires.

"I am the appointment." your giggle is almost childlike, playing with Jungkook's heart strings. You shut the door behind you, nearing him. You also seem to always have that flush on your cheeks. Although he likes to think part of it is due to him. He doesn't say anything else as he puts his pencil down and instead turns around in the chair to have you immediately on top of his thighs.

Yeah, he also likes the path your lips trace from his cheek, to his jaw, ending at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder. It still makes his body quaver to this day.

"Let me see." he murmurs against you forhear, his hand already working on unbottoning the front of your dress.

"Mijoo hasn't left yet." you whisper back, your smile impossible to supress and the faint whimper impossible to hide when his fingers expose your breast and tug at the titanium barbell adorning the already hardened nub.

Jungkook loves knowing he was the one to do that, and also the only one to play with it. He doesn't hesitate when he dips his head. "As if we'd ever cared about that." he adds, wrapping your sole point in his mouth.

He fucks you on his studio table with your legs around his waist and his tongue playing with both your breasts, the tattoo sketches long forgotten, scattered on the floor as he whispers against your flesh something that sounds a lot like 'I love you'.

[ideks-on-mars]

I made ReonSemiShira beach day hcs so I thought why not make one for the colder months just because I'm a cold weather/winter/fall person ¯＼_(ツ)_/¯

ANYWAYS REONSEMISHIRA COLD TIME HCS LET'S GO!!!

- Let's start off with stating that Semi and Reon aren't the best in the cold weather

- Meanwhile if it felt like a cold October all year round, Shirabu would be perfectly content

- It's funny how the only one not born in a cold season of the three of them likes it the most

- Semi and Reon just think that Shirabu doesn't understand how jealous you get as a kid when all your other friends who were born in May - August got to have cool pool parties for their birthdays, meanwhile you just had to stay inside or you'll freeze 😪

- I get it boys, I'm a November baby ✋️😪 fun fact, I share a birthday with Mickey Mouse lmao

- Anyways

- Despite loving cold weather, that doesn't really mean that Shirabu likes to go OUTSIDE. He just likes having a excuse to stay INside

- Decked out in sweats, dragging a blanket around with you everywhere you go around the house like you're a little kid. It's all Shirabu's absolute favorite.

- One thing Reon despises about colder weather is cold mornings. The rest doesn't bother him as much, but the mornings? He could cry

- Having to get dressed so fast just to avoid all the cold air in your bedroom even though you're half asleep and still tired. It's even worse if you don't have socks on, not that you won't feel the freezing cold floor anyway. If only they had carpet in the dorms instead of hardwood floors.

- Semi likes that they usually serve, or have packets at the lunch tables, of hot chocolate. The good ones that already have the little mini marshmallows in them. Brings him back. He always talks about it and in those moments he sounds even more like an old man than Reon

- They all pretty much enjoy Christmas. They all get each other one gift (they mutually agree to keep it at one) and it's so special to them just to spend a holiday together. Quality time is one of the biggest things in their relationship tbh

- Top tier cuddling temperatures. Can cuddle ad much as they want without getting too hot because how the hell can you when if you let go of each other you're gonna get frostbite

- This is Semi "the furnace" Eita's time to shine

- Besides that Semi thinks Winter can go off somewhere and never come back. He's sick of it. He wants it to snow on Christmas and the day after, that's it.

- Semi refuses to preform any Christmas songs. They will be the death of him, he swears by it.

- He's not Mariah Carey, leave him alone. 💀

- Reon doesn't hate it but he doesn't exactly love it either

- Reon's not built for cold weather 😭

- He likes September, that's like his limit. He won't like the weather again until about April. If it's a warmer year, then mid March 😪

- He doesn't really talk about it, but Semi would like to try snowboarding, at least once. He thinks it'd be cool

- Shirabu can ice skate, and he looks good while he does it. He's so beautiful he brings tears to Reon and Semi's eyes. 🥲

- He likes snow too. The grumpy one likes something as just, sort of childish, as snow. There's a tinge of sweet innocence to it and it just brings a weight off his shoulders. Even if it's just throwing a snowball at Semi's head really quick and watching him whine while Reon brushes the snow out of his hair. It's just fun.

- On the topic of snowballs and Shirabu, someone needs to put him in the MLB because with the way he throws those snowballs he might as well be a D1 pitcher. Semi and Kawanishi are usually the victims when it comes to that. Shirabu doesn't throw anything at his sweet Reon <3 he's Reon, how could anyone ever wanna do anything bad to him? I mean just look at how sweet his face is

- He's been tempted go shove snow down Semi's jacket but he's not that mean. He'll save that for Goshiki or Tendō. Maybe Ushijima if he wakes him up at 6 AM (on a WEEKEND! A WEEKEND!) just to ask him to set again.

- Semi doesn't throw snowballs at his boyfriends, but he'll throw them at anyone ELSE who throws snowballs at his boyfriends. He throws them at Tendō and Yamagata just for the hell of it tho.

- Reon's not big on snow, it's nice to look at, he'll watch from the gym doors 😭 tho STZW HAS gotten him to join once or twice. (It was more like STZW used Semi and Shirabu as a way to get Reon to join them)

- "Pleeeeaaaseeee Reooooooo." "But Ei-" "Reon-San, it won't even be for too long. We just want you to stand out there with us." "I'm right in the gym, why?" "Cuz we love you?" "Yeaaaaaahhh, cuz we loooooovvvveee youuuu." "Dragging your words is not doing anything, Eita."

- Reon's soft for them, don't let him try and fool you.

- They made up for it later by coddling him

- They try and make cookies. None of them are specifically good at baking but ya know, where's the fun in not trying?

- Semi eats half the cookie dough. Shirabu and Reon have had to slap his hand away too many times to count.

- They actually turn out ok!! Some of them are really big and sorta connected but who said they had to be pretty to taste good ¯＼_(ツ)_/¯

- Baking experience went well, 10/10, great job gays 👏✨️

- Now don't get me started on candles.

- THEY ALL LOVE CANDLES

- During December they go for the basic Christmas smells because you have to get into the ✨️spirit✨️. Fresh pine, cinnamon, and sugar cookies.

- Besides that, they just get whatever they find that they like.

- Shirabu loves black teakwood, get him black teakwood.

- Semi likes cinnamon a lot but usually he likes to get more of a smokey type of smell. Either that or cloves

- Reon loves fruity (haha fruity, get it cuz he's gay) smells. Scents that include pineapple are probably his favorite. Like whatever you imagine a candle called "fruit punch" would smell like, he'd probably like it

- They have a hard time agreeing on the candle thing ✋️💀

- Cuddle piles and big fluffy blankets. I can't believe I didn't mention this one sooner.

- The one time of the year they can drag Shirabu to bed without too much trouble because man, he's cold too. He's already a naturally cold person. This isn't good for him. The bed is where he belongs in the winter.

- They basically hibernate 💀

- It's hot as balls outside and I'm missing the cold months so there's my cold times ReonSemiShira hcs 😩 until my creativity turns on again. Or someone yells at me in my inbox for requests, idk 🤭

[luvdsc]

too hot! hot damn!

what do you get when you mix red and blue together?

pairing :: lee taeyong x reader genre :: fluff / boyfriend au word count :: 2,121 words warnings :: a tiny paragraph about making out playlist :: cherry kisses (chungha) ⋆ daft pretty boys (bad suns) ⋆ hands on me (taeyeon) ⋆ crash my car (coin) ⋆ shy (hunny) author’s note :: to the insanely talented goddess who wrote the first nct fic i ever read nearly 3 years ago and still love to this day!!! i didn’t think i’d ever get to be friends with one of my favoritest writers on here, but here we are :’) ily els @taeyongtime​ ♡ 

“It’s hot.”

You’re draped across the old, yet still very plush couch, the kitschy pattern spread across it now fondly regarded as one of the things that transforms this dingy little place from a shoebox apartment into home. The thin spaghetti strap of your faded tie-dyed tank top from your old sorority days hangs limply off of your shoulder, threatening to fall even more when you slump over to the left. The simple drawstring shorts you have on barely cover your legs, but you contemplate tossing them off still because it’s just. So. Damn. Hot.

“It’s hot!” you whine even louder, throwing your arms up in the air before letting them flop down onto the cushions dramatically. The nearby open window only blows in a measly little breeze that does nothing except dry the sweat on your skin for a few glorious seconds before it reappears like a stubborn stain. Your boyfriend only raises an eyebrow at you from his spot on the floor, sprawled out in front of said window and using one of his Nylon magazines as a makeshift fan.

Taeyong agrees, flapping the glossy pages in front of his face desperately. “It’s too hot.”

Two days consisting of barely surviving the power outage creeps into a third, the prospect of having AC again anytime soon becoming extremely bleak. The transformer had completely blown out, and the electric company finally sent out a crew to fix it earlier this morning. The estimated restoration was initially set to noon, but it was pushed back until 3 p.m., then 6 p.m., then 10 p.m., then 5 a.m., and now the big black bolded letters spelling out “undetermined” mocks you from the screen of your phone that's already set to the lowest brightness setting to conserve battery.

To make it worse, your city was suffering a heat wave, temperatures spiking to 105 degrees Fahrenheit every single day and simmering down to 80 during the night before climbing the thermostat again. The raging thunderstorm that plagued last night only resulted in unexpected humidity, making your clothes stick to you like a second skin.

“Make it less hot,” you moan, blowing air upwards towards your forehead in an attempt to cool down in the slightest way possible.

“I can’t control the weather, babe, but I can get you a popsicle?” Taeyong sluggishly pushes himself into a sitting position to face you. The shiny magazine in his hand still flounders around until he gives up on it and tosses it aside.

You turn your head, cheek pressing into the couch cushion, as you squint at him. “We don’t have any left. We took all our food from the fridge to Doyoung’s place. I can’t believe that bastard has a gigantic generator and is flourishing in his stupid air conditioned apartment and making frozen sangrias, while his best friends are about to die from heatstroke.”

You had sent back a rather crass Snapchat back to Doyoung after he sent one earlier of his perfect, Instagram story worthy, iced alcoholic beverage. It’s honestly a miracle that he didn’t toss your beloved brown sugar boba ice cream bars out onto his pristine balcony with picture perfect potted plants to perish. That man can still hold onto a grudge even after he’s on his deathbed and descending into the fiery pits.

Taeyong stands up and slowly ambles towards the refrigerator. “I saved two popsicles in the freezer. I figured it’d stay cold enough and not melt if we ate them soon.”

“Oh my god, that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” You struggle to push yourself up into a sitting position before finally being able to, watching your boyfriend open the freezer and pull out the last two saving graces.

“Do you want blue raspberry or cherry?”

He holds out the two icy sweets in front of you, one in each hand. You already know that he secretly wants the red one; it’s been his favorite ever since he was five and tried his very first one from the ice cream truck that still comes around his parents’ neighborhood. But you also know that he always lets you choose first and wouldn’t complain if you take that one.

You reach out and pluck the blue one from his grasp, and he smiles happily, eyes crinkling in the corners as he eagerly unwraps the cherry flavored one and shoves it in his mouth, tossing the wrapper into the nearby wicker trash basket.

He drops down onto the empty space next to you, reclining back and slouching in his seat. The two of you sit there peacefully, side by side and enjoying the cold snacks, until he wordlessly slides over, pressing the side of his arm and leg against yours.

“Move back,” you complain, shoving him over to his original position. “It’s hot, and you’re making it worse.”

“So are you calling me hot?” Taeyong wriggles his eyebrows at you before taking a bite of his popsicle, much to your horror. He moves closer to you again for the sole sake of annoying you.

“First off, I’m calling you sweaty. Secondly, did you just bite your ice cream?” You throw him a dirty look before moving over and turning to sit with your back against the arm rest, throwing your legs over his lap.

Taeyong slightly pouts at you, munching on yet another chunk of his popsicle and ignoring the way you wrinkle your nose in disdain. “What’s wrong with that? It’s melting, and I don’t want it to drip and get my hand all sticky.”

You can’t believe that you just discovered your boyfriend is a psychopath. He’s going to the same circle of hell as people who pour milk in before cereal and those who hate mint chocolate chip ice cream once he leaves this earth (He can even say hi to Doyoung as he descends to eternal damnation).

“Why didn’t you say anything about this before we started dating?” You are absolutely appalled. Horrified. Disgusted. This is the biggest relationship deal breaker you have ever come across.

“Next, you’re gonna say you hate me because I don’t like pineapple on pizza,” he says as his free hand settles on the top of your thigh, gently tapping rhythmically against it absentmindedly.

“Oh my god, you absolute heathen.” You really thought Taeyong was the perfect man of your dreams, but you unfortunately realize belatedly that even he has flaws. Some inexcusable ones, in fact. 

In the midst of your lamenting, you fail to notice melting sugar slowly trickling down until it leaves a sticky mess all over your hand. Desperately, you toss the empty popsicle stick into the nearby waste basket before licking off the remnants of your icy blue treat from your fingers.

“See? It melted all over you. I told you so,” Taeyong childishly sticks out his tongue as he waves his clean hand and empty popsicle stick around as if to emphasize his point.

“Your tongue’s red,” you say, chuckling slightly, and his eyes widen at this newfound revelation.

“Wait, stick out your tongue,” he demands as he throws away the wooden stick, and you comply with his request. He grins, delighted. “Yours is blue!”

He sticks out his tongue again, almost going cross eyed as he tries to catch a glimpse of his own. At that, your eyes zero in on his cherry stained lips, and an ingenious idea pops up in your mind as the sudden urge to kiss your boyfriend silly makes itself very known.

“Hey, wanna play a game, Yongie?” you ask slyly, and his attention immediately turns to you at the word “game,” interest piqued and eyes fixated on you.

“What kind of game?” he inquires cautiously, taking note of the mischievous glimmer in your eyes. You look like you’re up to no good, and your boyfriend wouldn’t be surprised if you have something up your metaphorical sleeve (Because nobody sane enough would be wearing something with sleeves in this weather from hell. In fact, you’re 66.6% percent certain that those fiery pits are probably cooler compared to here).

“Too hot.”

“Yes, it is,” he acknowledges, shaking his head in agreement, and you laugh, fanning yourself with your hands. “No, silly, I meant the game.” 

“It’s called ‘too hot’?” He raises an eyebrow at you, and you confirm, nodding your head. The expression of skepticism on his face says it all, so you throw in your bargaining chip.

“I hid a chocolate bar in the freezer’s ice chest. The winner can have it.”

His doe eyes immediately light up at the mention of his favorite sweet, and he grabs your hand, squeezing it tightly. “Okay, how do I play?”

“We kiss,” you start, and he’s already pulling you towards him enthusiastically, causing soft laughter to bubble up from your throat, before you swat his hands away. “Hey, hey, hey, I wasn’t done explaining it yet! There’s no touching allowed.”

“That’s no fun,” Taeyong whines, lips jutting out into a tiny pout that you want to kiss away already. “You said this is a game. Games are supposed to be fun.”

“But you’re getting kisses, and it’s already hot so it’s better this way,” you coax, and he relents with a drawn out sigh, and you quietly cheer. “Okay, ready?”

Taeyong gives you a tiny nod, and you grin before leaning in, eyes fluttering close. You gently place your lips against his, and he holds still. But then, a few seconds later, you feel his fingers barely grazing your cheek, and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“Baby, I told you that you can’t touch!”

“That rule is dumb,” he complains, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child. You frown at him, pouting until he gives in again because it’s you and he’d cross oceans and climb mountains for you.

“Okay, let’s try again,” he grumbles, glowering as he absentmindedly cards his hand through his hair, and you positively beam at him, and the sulking expression on his face softens almost instantly.

“What if we do baby steps first?” You pull your legs up onto the couch, sitting up on your knees and facing him. He fully turns to look at you, head cocked to one side.

“What do you mean?”

You lean forward and peck his cheek before moving back to your original position. “Like that. Now your turn.”

A lightbulb goes off in his head, and Taeyong leans forward and gingerly places a kiss on your forehead with an endearing smile. You inch forward and kiss his other cheek. He plants a tiny kiss to the tip of your nose, and you lean in to delicately leave a kiss on the corner of his mouth. He presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, and you do the same to the opposite side, much to his utter frustration.

This time, Taeyong chases after you when you pull away. You let out a noise of surprise as he gently tugs you forward, crashing his lips against yours and muffling your laughter, and you find yourself straddling your boyfriend. Your hands wind up tangled in his hair, while his arms lock around your waist and hold you close, game be damned.

You can taste a faint trace of cherry, causing the corners of your mouth to curl into the minutest hint of a smile before you press your mouth against his more firmly as he kisses you back eagerly until you both run out of air, pulling away breathlessly with identical smiles.

“You lost,” you tease, poking his cheek with your finger as your other hand curls around his shirt. He makes a face at you, his hands still resting on your waist, and you find that you don’t mind the warmth of them against your skin even in this ruthlessly blazing weather.

“But you’ll share the chocolate, right?” he mumbles, face still flushed and lips redder than before. He traces soft patterns against your hip as you tilt your head to the side, faking your hesitation.

“Hmm, I don’t know, should I? I won fair and square.”

He sticks his tongue out at you. “Meanie.” 

You laugh, sliding off his lap and onto the empty seat next to him (albeit a little unwillingly, but it’s still hot as hell unfortunately, and conserving body heat together isn’t helping at all). Your boyfriend frowns, mostly because you’re no longer sitting in his lap, but partly because he doesn’t understand why you’re laughing.

“What’s so funny?”

Your grin widens, eyes sparkling like you know something he doesn’t (because you do). “Baby, your tongue’s purple.”

Taeyong turns a shade brighter than his favorite popsicle flavor.

[elise-51-blog]

another WIP "Run to Daylight"

She leaps up and hugs him and bursts into cold little tears, crying right into his neck.

“Jesus, Tora.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

He hugs her tighter. “I love you too.”

They hold each other for a minute until she starts to pull away, sniffling and generally being pretty adorable. For the first time in a long time he knows this is a true thing, and he hasn’t dirtied it. He doesn’t even want to fuck her. He just wants to be near her, and make her laugh, and not think about himself too much.

And he doesn’t want her to cry anymore.

“Wanna go to a porno?”

She punches him in the shoulder pretty hard and shakes her head, biting back a laugh, and looking up at him a little like she used to in the old days when they were in love with each other. She wipes her tears away and takes a big breath in and out.

“How about a regular movie at my place?” She takes his hand again and pulls him along down the sidewalk. She never used to lead him, always let him do it. He always loved taking charge with her, asserting himself, taking whatever she was willing to give him, and then maybe a little more.

Now he’ll go anywhere with her, anywhere she wants to take him. Anywhere to get away from his head and whatever’s going on up there.

She slips her sunglasses back on and with her silver hair in the sunshine, and her pretty blue dress, and her body she’s just looking like a million bucks. She’s always known how to dress. Regal. Like old Hollywood. Like Princess Grace on a Wednesday. It had always been Beauty and the Beast with them. The running joke with their friends, she’d hated it, but he’d just sorta rolled with it because it was what he had understood to be true. How the fuck she’d ever looked at him, there’s just no accounting for taste.

“Bea’s working so we can get something unhealthy and you can be quiet and let me hold you?”

Guy smirks. “You think I can be quiet during a movie?”

“I’ll make you.”

“Ooh, baby.” They both laugh, and it’s nice to be back in a place where he can do that for her.

He wears two sweaters and long underwear under his sweats just to snuggle with Tora. She’d playfully reminded him to dress for cold weather--the girl still sleeps with her windows open in January. In New York. Bea burns hot year round so they must make it work somehow.

She picks out Breakfast at Tiffany’s and he pretends not to cry when Audrey Hepburn puts the damn cat out in the rain and then she finds him again. Then “Moon River,” cues up and c’mon, anyone with a heart gets a little dewy-eyed at that.

“I always felt bad that I couldn’t fix you.” Tora’s staring at that poor wet little kitty cat. “I used to worry so much. That it was my job and I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough.”

He feels his chest tighten. It always feels like that these days, all the time. Audrey Hepburn gets her happy ending, why can’t he? “No one could. I was a fucking jerk. I mean, I still am.”

She twists her little hand in his sweater. “But you’ve changed so much.”

He looks down at her, her silver hair and her blue eyes. “I still don’t know why you let me see you again, Tora. But if I got better, that’s all you. Everything good is you.”

She bites her lip and raises a finger down his crooked nose. She used to do that all the time when things were good. They usually weren’t, but sometimes. She hums a little and settles back down against his chest. “Not everything, I think.”

“No?”

“No. It’s the Corps,” she sounds sleepy. It’d been a long damn day. “Working with them. I think it’s Kyle too. He’s nice.”

He swallows, watching the camera pan out from the dirty little alley and fade to black. “Yeah, Kyle’s a nice guy.”

Tora falls asleep on him and he feels a little less hollowed out with his chin on her soft hair and her cool little hand over his beating heart.

He wasn't the best boyfriend...

But she made him better anyways:

Awww, they're so sweet.

TOO BAD HE'S IN LOVE WITH KYLE, says my brain.

[matildashoney]

𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐃𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 // 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐅𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ~ 𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 ~ 𝐆𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀'𝐒 ��𝐋𝐎𝐆 ~ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @doubtfulwelshie, @meetmymouth, @theluketomypatterson, @morethanamelodyy, @hoodhoran, @nevertoooldtodancelikeamaniac, @rainbowparadiseharry, @glitterandharry, @summertimestyles, @millenial-teenybopper, @6616617228, @burberryharold​, @jesusidontcare1​

.・゜゜・ Harry  .・゜゜・　

Step left. Duck. Step right. Punch.

Step left. Block. Step right. Go for the gold.

The freedom of releasing bottled up anger loomed over Harry’s head, stimulating his need to showcase his overt power. Punch after punch after punch, delivered to his opponent's body and face, fueling the anguish he felt in his veins and the fury in his brain. 

“Okay! Harry, that’s enough!” a voice calls, but, naturally, Harry doesn’t listen. His ears are ringing, deafening anything outside of his own mind. Not that he can hear his own thoughts anyway as he blows hit after hit at Ryan, imagining it’s someone else he’s beating up instead.

His heart is racing as fast as his mind is swirling, his breaths shortening as his arms continue their relentless action on Dear Ryan, who can do nothing but just take it. “Harry!”

Then, there was the numbness. He felt arms tug him back forcefully, landing Harry right on his ass as he came to, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. Harry blinked once, then twice, then three times before taking a look around him. Mack, his trainer, was standing over him, a look of anger mixed with concern etched over his features as he gestured to the man laying flat on his back, spitting blood out of his mouth.

Only for a moment, remorse coursed through Harry’s body, because the last he remembered, they were both standing. It wasn’t the first time he’s lost control of his rage, and he was sorry that Ryan had to deal with the consequences of that, but at the same time, Harry didn’t give a single shit because it was Ryan’s job to play punching bag. 

“Do you wanna explain this?” Mack questions, helping Ryan up so he can go take a breather and get a look at his nose from the doctor. “Fuck, Harry, any more and you could’ve done serious damage to the poor kid.”

Harry hoisted himself up, rolling his eyes as he tugged his gloves off his hands. “Do you want me to win tonight? I sort of need to punch the shit out of people to do that.”

Mack stares at Harry with a cross look before scoffing, shaking his head as he places his hands on his hips, looking down to his feet. “Look, you need to get over her, H. All your focus is on Stella, but I need your focus on your job. That’s the most important thing.”

Technically if he’s focused on Stella, he’s better at his job, but Harry didn’t have the energy to start a fight over something ridiculous. Instead, Harry opted for a poisonous glare and bit his bottom lip to hold back any venom he easily could’ve spit out, walking past his trainer and making sure to bump shoulders along the way.

Mack has always been anti-relationships. 

Mack advised it from the start, when Harry signed up for his gym and kick started his career in boxing. “No dating. It’s not forbidden, but trust me, Harry, you don’t need them on your mind when you’re in the ring.” Harry never had to worry about that before, because dating wasn’t really his thing to begin with.

Until her. Until Stella. 

Harry decided he was done for the day, needing to rest up until his match that night. Not that he’d be resting much anyway, but he needed to get out of the gym for a bit, needed to clear his head.

Grey steel doors to the men’s locker room are no match for Harry’s unhinged anger, banging loudly against the wall behind it as they were forcefully swung open with a push from his hand. The few men in there jumped back a bit, heads immediately turning to the cause of disturbance.

Harry paid them no mind as he walked over to his locker, opening the lock and then swinging that door open too, causing it to bang into the one next to it. Despite the anger he released back in the ring, he still had enough resonating in his veins as he thought of her and as he thought of him. But immediately, as he glanced at the door of his locker, all anger dissipated for a couple fleeting moments as he stared at the filmstrip taped to the metal, the smile on her face, the smile on his face. All was better then. All was better when she was by his side. 

His Stella. Stella for star.

Sitting down on the bench behind him, Harry ran his battered hands over his face and then through his hair as he tried to stop thinking of her. But then the image of her smile taunted him, enticed him, tricked him into giving her another moment of his time. The pain in his chest and the pain in his head grew stronger as his thoughts spiraled, bringing up memories he tried so hard to push to the back of his head. 

Even when he was in the ring, thinking of his match later on, Harry couldn’t stop from thinking about her. He couldn’t stop his heart from sinking into his stomach at the thought of her face not being in the crowd cheering him on. He couldn’t bear it, knowing his Lucky Star wasn’t going to be there for him. 

That’s when all shades of red began swarming his sight, because she wouldn’t be front row, but instead with that fucking character she calls a duet partner. Then Ryan’s face morphed into his. Harry couldn’t stop himself. 

Shit, how he wished he could get his hands on that jackass. 

Harry nearly broke the wood holding him up from how tight his grip was on it, but, then one glance at her and his strength fell apart. 

And so did Harry’s mind.

He wasn’t sure how long he had been staring at her picture on his locker door, but when he finally gained back his grip on reality, he grabbed his gym bag and closed the metal, hurrying out of the stuffy room to get home. He ignored Mack’s lingering gaze, keeping his own eyes straight ahead as he stormed out of the building. 

Just when Harry thought he could catch a breath, a break, the warm weather outside touched his skin, nearly melting him to the ground.

Harry hated the heat. He much preferred the winter time because it always leveled his hot head, and the sweltering air mixed with his boiling rage never mixed well. Now, Harry was in an even sourer mood. Though, it slightly picked up when he realized the time on his phone.

Crossing the street, Harry began his walk in the opposite direction of home, quickening his pace so as to not miss her. He absolutely dreaded not taking his car to the gym that day. He dreaded it not only for the sweat dripping down his body, but because he had to pass a certain establishment on the shortest route to the studio.

Lucky’s Bar.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry had a bit of a habit of stopping time whenever he walked into a room. Or at least it felt like he did because despite the loud, rowdy music blaring through the tight bar, and everyone being focused on themselves and who they were with, all heads immediately turned to him when he stepped through the entrance of Lucky’s. 

“That never gets old,” Niall nudged Harry in the side, chuckling as people began to whisper to one another, sly-but-not-so-sly fingers pointing in their direction.

It wasn’t always this way. They really only started looking at him after news spread rapidly around campus about his new ... job. Otherwise, no one ever paid enough attention to notice he was in the same room. At first it was strange knowing people were watching his every move, but after a while, he stopped caring. 

One thing he learned over the past few months, is that not caring goes a long way.

Harry sat on the bar stool next to Niall, a bored look on his face as the bartender looked a bit starstruck because of who was sitting in front of her. “Two beers please. Bottled,” Niall requested, turning his attention back to his friend. “So, when’s your next match?” he wondered, mindlessly checking his phone as he waited for his girlfriend to text him of her arrival.

Harry thought about it for a second, not even remembering what day of the week it was. “Next Friday, I think. I don’t know, I’ll text you,” Harry shrugged, graciously taking the drink the bartender sat next to him, nodding his head in appreciation before taking his first swig.

They sat idly for some time, not wanting to join the masses standing on the dance floor. They could practically feel the humidity and sweat from the bar. Many girls tried coming over and flirting their ways into getting free drinks, but neither of the boys even blinked in their direction as they laughed over mindless nonsense and awaited Niall’s girlfriend’s arrival. 

And Niall’s girlfriend’s friend’s arrival.

A friend that was apparently a very good, a great match for Harry. Usually, Harry denied any setups Niall tried to throw his way, but this time the bloke wouldn’t take no for an answer. Apparently, Niall had a big feeling this one was going to be someone incredibly special.

Then that familiar text tone sounded, alerting them the girls had arrived, but they didn’t need the text to know that. Because - at least to Harry and Niall - time had stopped once again, but not because of Harry, but because of Libby and her friend.

Not that anyone else cared, but the two girls lit up the entire place. Their energy radiated a glow that was unmatched to anyone else in the room, leaving Niall and Harry in awe. Of course, they turned the heads of jerk offs that whistled when they walked by, but their eyes were set on the boys waiting for them.

“Hi, baby,” Libby greeted, quickly kissing Niall on the lips before giving Harry a soft smile and kissing him on the cheek.

The other girl greeted Niall just as happily - minus the kiss on the lips, opting for a hug instead. Her curly hair sat behind her in a low ponytail, a few front strands hanging loosely over her face. 

Then, her eyes met Harry’s.

Ever since she walked into Lucky’s, Harry had a hard time keeping his eyes off of her, and now that she was up close and personal, he took the time to really admire her features, her figure, her long legs that seemed to go on for miles.

Before she could introduce herself, Niall clapped Harry on the shoulder, waving his other hand between the two, “Harry, meet Stella.”

Much to his surprise, Stella leaned in for a hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders in a warm greeting that he never usually received when meeting a girl. Usually, Harry was met with a bat of fake eyelashes and fingers tracing his biceps. 

She stepped back after a few moments, a kind smile stretched over her lips. “You must be the boxer.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry stands in front of the bar for a moment, thinking back to all the times he sat on the wooden stools with his girl and their friends and drank to celebrate the winning of another match. Of course, yeah, he’s been back since then, and he’s been back with his friends since then, but it’s not the same without his hand intertwined with hers and the feeling that he had when walking in with her tucked under his arm. Harry used to soak in the stares and the jealous whispers of other men and women when they walked in together, to know that he was the luckiest man alive, in those moments. His Stella, his Lucky Star, at his side, and yet he was the lucky one. 

Harry knew Stella liked the attention a little bit, too, as much as she hated to admit it. Stella liked knowing that her man was the champion, the star, the winner. Stella liked seeing Harry win. That’s why she was at every match, every single one. 

That feels like a lifetime ago, and it was barely a year ago. One year ago, when Harry royally fucked himself over with her and his world flipped upside down.

.・゜゜・ Stella  .・゜゜・

Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso. Aerial. Tombé. Pas de bourrée. Pirouette. Calypso.

That’s what Stella Smalls is going to do over and over until she can get it perfect. Until there’s not a hiccup or a side step or a misplaced toe or fingertip in sight, completing the perfect combination from her fingertips to her toes. That’s what Stella has to do, to be known as one of the best dancers in the world.

“God damnit,” she grumbles, wiping the sweat on her forehead on her hand and brushing her bangs away from her skin, heaving out a heavy breath and leaning over her knees, taking a minute to catch her breath. Her legs ache with how much she’s been practicing, and she’s happy to have the night off. 

“Come on, Stella,” she says to herself, psyching herself into repeating the combination a few times more. “Come on. This isn’t child’s play. This is the biggest competition you’ll ever do.”

Her words seemingly do the trick, the ache in her thighs and feet suddenly disappearing and fading into the background of her mind, her only focus going to the specific point in this song where this combination would play out to the perfect rhythm if she does it correctly. Her favorite song is playing over the speakers, the building bridge and chorus resounding through the mirror-lined studio, waiting for her to try and try again. Her song choice is making it all the more difficult to focus, especially with knowing who is across the street, and how much this song is about him, as well. 

It wasn’t their song, for the short two years they were together, that was something else, something a bit too hard to touch. Their song, “Undeniable You”, the song they danced to at two in the morning in her tiny kitchen and the song they played in the car on their way to the gym and the studio and the song they played when they were making love into the early hours of the night. That was their song and it was untouchable, their song that she truly couldn't use as her competition piece for the World Title.

Stella hadn’t originally wanted to do the song that she’s currently dancing to. That wasn’t her intention, especially not fresh after their parting ways and it was raw, so raw. However, when her instructor heard the song and was approving the World Title submission under her studio’s name, she suggested that she channel her emotions that she was feeling towards the song into choreography. Stella was competing for a world title under her studio’s name. Could she really say no? 

Nearly a year later, with the competition only three months away, River Daniels and Stella Smalls are practicing their duet for the world title to a song that she once associated with a man she was in love with, is in love with.

“Love,” Angie calls through the studio, walking into the quaint room with light bamboo flooring and three long barres hooked onto the walls amongst the mirrors, staring at the young girl with concern etched into her features, “maybe you should take a break. You’ve been here since eight, this morning.”

“What time is it, now? Have somewhere to be around three.” Stella wonders curiously, oblivious to how long she’s been at the studio and been working. Muscles ache inside her body, her feet crying out for a breather, and yet she keeps pushing, keeps forcing herself to repeat the combination until she finds it perfectly aligned with the rhythm of the song.

“It’s nearly two, Stella,” Angie says assuredly, sounding nearly disappointed in the way Stella has been pushing herself since she found out who her competition was for the title, and the stakes that are at large, waiting for her.

Should they win, Stella and River will go on a world tour with nearly a dozen other dancers, doing master classes and teaching young dancers the way to the title, and the money that would be split between the two of them would allow for her to finally open her own studio in town.

There’s this empty building that she has been eyeing for nearly five years, dreaming that one day it would be the studio of her dreams. There is space for three different rooms, three studios within one, and there are a multitude of opportunities waiting for her in this space if she just had the money. “The Lucky Star Academy”, she would name it, after the one that always told her that she would be the best studio owner in town. He wasn’t that clever for giving her the name.

Stella’s name does mean “star”, after all. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Harry’s knuckles were all bloodied and cut, the skin tearing and ripping at the base of his hand after rubbing against his gloves after he stupidly forgot to wrap his hands before the match. Typically, Stella reminds him, but today, she was in her head, worrying about the bank’s call and the meeting she had with the loan advisor and the conversation she had with her mother regarding how much she would offer as a loan until her business started and took off like everyone knew - or had a feeling - it would, and Harry was worried about comforting his girlfriend, to the point where they had to call him out of the locker room to make sure he was ready for the match. Stella was worried that he would lose the match because of how much worrying he was doing for her, but of course, Harry being Harry, won within the first ten minutes in the ring.

“Stell, the bank is going to approve you,” Harry said too surely for Stella’s liking when they were back in the locker room, cleaning his knuckles. “If not, like I said, I could give you the money. It’s not a big deal.” Stella glares at Harry for that secondary comment. “Okay, it’s a big deal, but I can loan you the money, Lovey. I’m not hoarding all this to myself. Makes sense to share it with the ones I love, does it not?”

“It does, but I don’t want to start my business by owing you money, Harry,” Stella says frustratedly, wiping the blood from his hands and kissing the skin of his knuckles sweetly. Stella was always the most gentle soul with Harry, even when he didn’t necessarily deserve it, and he cherished the way she loves him, the way she cares. “My studio can’t start that way. It’s just, I can’t.”

“Name it after what I call you, at least. Let me contribute the name, Stella Bella.” Harry grins so widely Stella can feel her heart giving out and falling into his hands, like it always does. “My Lucky Star. Maybe you’ll be somebody else’s, too. Mine first, always, though.”

“First and foremost,” she says, shaking her head at the nickname, one of many of what her boyfriend has called her over the years, and sighs deeply, laying the flannel on the sink beside her and letting his hands fall to her waist, holding her between his legs and kissing her shoulder, “you’ll always have me as your lucky star, the one and only.” Harry’s dimpled grin makes her stomach flutter with butterflies. “Secondly, ‘The Lucky Star Academy’, I like the sound of that.” Harry smiles wider, this time, leaning upwards and kissing her jaw. “Has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

“Very nice ring to it,” Harry agrees, brushing her hair behind her ear and holding her chin between his fingertips, kissing her sweetly, deeply, smirking when she pushes his shoulder lightly and takes a step away. “Come on, lovey. One more kiss before you leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” she says matter-of-factly, shaking her head and nodding towards where the door is swinging open with men walking in and out. “I’m leaving the room for you to get changed, you stink.”

“Come shower with me,” he whispers, standing on his feet and bringing her into his chest, the clamminess of his skin sticking to her fingertips as she lays her hands against his abdomen. “Not like any of these blokes actually shower here, anyways.”

“Girl in a locker room disappears into the showers and Harry Styles is nowhere to be seen,” Stella scoffs, shaking her head adamantly and brushing his hair away from his forehead, the floppy tendrils of his hair falling to his sweaty skin. “Very likely that everyone will know what’s happening.”

“Stella Smalls,” Harry says warningly, clicking his tongue and grabbing her face between his hands, “don’t ever call yourself just a girl, ever again. Hear me? Much more than a girl to me.”

“All right, all right,” she concedes, pecking his lips quickly and walking towards the locker, grabbing all his belongings and shoving the clothes that need to be washed in the tote bag he brings to every match. “Go shower, I’m tired and want to go home.”

“I’ll shower faster if my Lucky Star comes with me,” Harry teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and walking towards the showers in the corner of the locker room. “Come on, Stell. One time.” Stella sighs, looking between the phone, where she is impatiently waiting for a phone call, her belongings, and her sweaty boyfriend standing all too enticingly at the edge of the tile flooring. Stella begrudgingly sets their things in the locker, oblivious to the buzzing that’s vibrating from her phone, and hurries to Harry across the locker room floor, smirking as he says, “That’s my girl. My Stella.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on the studio door pulls Stella out of her trance, again, the song playing over and over again in her head with tears in her eyes as she forces a smile to the familiar man in the window. River is standing at the glass window, watching his partner perfect the leap combination for their routine without saying a word. Her knees are bruised and tainted a purplish-blue color that looks like it hurts like hell, and River silently reminds himself to schedule a day to practice even more to be on her level of dedication. River smiles at Stella softly, opening his arms and bringing her in close, hugging her tightly and humming contently as her arms tighten around his midsection and return the embrace.

“Looks great, Stella,” River smiles excitedly, wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead and taking a step away, looking at her face and taking in the distracted glances she’s making towards the window to the outside. “Harry’s coming, isn’t he? Walks you home from the gym and all that.”

“Always on Saturdays,” Stella says shyly, almost slightly embarrassed by how much she looks forward to the weekly walk with her best friend, which happens to also be her ex-boyfriend, the person she’s choreographing this routine about. “It’s our only time to really talk, you know? Alone, at least. He’s so busy during the week, I’m busy teaching. It’s not going to distract me, River, I promise.”

“You say that, Stella,” he says concernedly, shaking his head and clicking his tongue, shrugging his shoulders slightly at the thought of the two getting back together when he’s started to develop feelings for her beyond their partnership and friendship. “There’s already chemistry there, though. That’s hard to deny when you see the way he looks at you, the way he looks at me when I’m with you. Like he wants me removed from the planet or something.”

Stella knows that Harry wants River removed from her life, completely. He doesn’t need to say anything for that to be abundantly clear. That doesn’t mean she’ll say that, though. “Oh, c’mon, Riv, it’s not that bad. He’s not that cruel.”

“If Harry knew that I liked you in any capacity, which is not me saying that I do,” River says with his hands held in the air in surrender, “I would be pummeled into bits. You know it as well as I do, Stella.” River says this surely, quirking his eyebrows at his friend and cocking his head to the side knowingly, shrugging his shoulders when she crosses her arms in front of her chest defensively and sighs. “Not your fault he’s protective of you, Stella. It’s not your fault he’s in love with you.”

“Harry isn’t in love with me. Not anymore, at least.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” River shrugs his shoulders, “Hell, what do I know, though?” He takes Stella’s hand and twirls her beneath his arm, smiling brightly when she laughs and falls into his arms, hugging him tightly. “Practice tomorrow?”

“Of course, yeah,” she says with a bright smile, leaning onto her toes and kissing his cheek, her eyes rolling slightly when she sees her ex-boyfriend nearly foaming at the mouth outside the studio at the sight. Harry tries to hide it, Stella knows this, and that’s why she never says anything when she sees his facial expressions change or the way his hands clenched into fists when he sees River with his hand on Stella’s back as they leave the studio. “Come to the fight, tonight. It’ll be fun to have everyone there. This is his last match before the International Rounds.” River nods silently and opens the door for Stella to walk through, Harry immediately grabs her hand and pulls her into a warm hug. “Hi, Harry.”

.・゜゜・Harry  .・゜゜・

With old memories rehashing in his mind - which brought him the most happiness he’s felt in a while - Harry for fucking sure wasn’t expecting to see that slime-ball hugging his girl, replacing those memories with the anger he thought he suppressed, for now, at least.

Harry knew his face contorted into a deep scowl, burning red as he saw the interaction happening before him, and he couldn’t help his knuckles turning white from his fists clenching insanely tight. He knew how furious he looked. Hell, he knew how crazy he looked, but that didn’t stop him from tugging her away from her partner the moment they walked outside. 

Harry wraps his arms around Stella’s shoulders, pulling her close to him, but keeping his eyes on River. “Hi, Harry,” she murmured into his chest, before she pulled herself away and looked up at him. For the first time in those fifteen seconds, he diverted his attention away from him and looked at his girl, a smirk lining his features. 

“Hello, lovey.” And, spitefully - arguably, without a single care - he leans down and places his own kiss to her opposite cheek. As soon as Harry stood back up to his full height, he could see in Stella’s eyes that she was pleading for him to not cause a scene. He decided to respect her wishes, this time, but that didn’t stop the threatening glare he sent River’s way. “C’mon, let’s get you home. Think I can take a nap there?”

Stella looked over her shoulder at her dance partner, giving him an apologetic look. She knew he wasn’t nearly as scared of Harry, as Harry would like to think, but that didn’t stop her from being worried. River waved her off unapologetically, saying, “I’ll see you, tonight.”

Harry’s head quickly snapped to look at Stella, eyes widening and mouth falling agape from his words. He, too, looked over his shoulder, then, just to see the man getting in his car and then speeding off down the road. Harry was confused. He was baffled. And of course, he was angry. 

What does that mean?

As far as Harry knows, they see each other for practice during the week, for tech rehearsals, and for the performances, but never for anything else. Stella and River were only dance partners, not friends. That’s right, isn’t it? 

That’s when his greatest fear started coming to life. The realization hit. Harry could lose Stella, for good.

Harry stopped in his tracks, no matter how badly he wanted to get out from under the blazing sun. Stella stopped, too, confused as to why he was just standing there. “What’s wrong?”

The real question was: What isn’t wrong?

“What did he mean by that?” Harry hissed, bringing his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down harshly on it, but surprisingly, not drawing any blood. Harry knows that they aren’t officially together, and no matter how much, how badly that eats him alive, he knows that she has free reign to be with whoever she wants. Stella’s his Lucky Star, though, and, truth be told, he doesn’t think he can ever be without her in some capacity, for as long as he’s still breathing, as long as he’s on this planet. And, truthfully, it pains him to think that she would want to be with anyone that isn’t him. 

Sometimes, Harry wonders if she feels the same way.

“By what?” she asked by raising her eyebrows, confused as to what he was talking about. Then, seeing Harry biting on his lip with an excruciating grip, seeing the anger bubble back inside of him, Stella put two and two together, and figured out that he was talking about what her partner had said. “Oh, seeing me tonight? Oh my God, Harry.” Stella started laughing at this, beginning her walk, again, to her apartment. 

Harry was stunned for a quick moment before he followed after her, falling into step with her. He kept his eyes locked on her, watching her shake her head and and keep her eyes trained on her squeaky clean, white shoes. “What?”

“He’s coming to the fight.”

Harry was tempted to stop walking, again, but knew she wouldn’t stop this time, and would probably leave him behind. “No, he isn’t,” Harry responded, completely dumbfounded to the idea of Stella bringing up his fight, and then going the extra mile to invite her dance partner to it. He didn’t understand why she would even think of doing that, because she knows he doesn’t like him. It’s almost as if she enjoys making Harry angry - which could be the only possible explanation for why she invited him.

Stella looked up at him, tilting her head to the side, “Excuse me?”

“He’s not coming to my fight,” Harry scoffed, pressing the button on the crosswalk, waiting for the signal to keep walking.

“Are you being serious right now?” she questioned, crossing her arms over her chest, turning to face him completely as they stood on the corner. Deep down, Stella knew Harry was being serious, but didn’t quite want to believe it. Harry’s always had this possessive hold on her, ever since they started dating. Honestly, when they were together, it was cute, it was funny, even, it stemmed from the love he had for her. Now, though, it’s infuriating, it’s toxic, and it’s painful. 

It’s also kind of sad.

After Stella, Harry closed himself off to the world again. He sticks to his same few friends. He doesn’t date. He continues to revolve his world around Stella. Constantly. Stella’s trying to grow, and move on, but he makes it impossible for her, because, truthfully, Harry has no one else. It’s sad, but it’s also insanely frustrating. “First of all, it’s a public event, so technically, River’s more than welcome to be there. Secondly, I’m not your girlfriend, H. I haven’t been your girlfriend for over a year. And Harry, you need to get that through your head, because I’m tired of telling you.”

Clicking of the cross-walk sign began, signaling it was time to start walking, again, which Stella happily did as Harry once again found himself stuck in place. This wasn’t how he imagined his day to go, and he certainly didn’t want to keep talking on the topic, but he couldn’t stop himself. It’s like a vicious cycle of trying to prove that she still wants him in some capacity, that she would choose him over someone else, even though she’s proven time and time again that she doesn’t, that she wouldn’t. Stella is over Harry, and Harry refuses to accept that.

Harry allowed a few moments of silence between them, a comfortable silence as they walked on towards her apartment, letting her think she had gotten the better end of the argument. Then, Harry continued. “Has he got a ticket?”

Stella sighed, “What?”

“For the fight. Did he buy a ticket? Or are you gonna use my name to get him in?” Harry’s association is the way she and any of his friends ever get in without paying. Tickets always sell insanely fast, near instantaneously, so Harry doubts River actually has one to get in. He knows Stella is going to get him in, and Harry’s lucky to have the upper-hand in the situation, because he can easily make it where there’s a specific guest-list - one that doesn’t have him on it. “I’ll tell the guard to blacklist him, Stell. He’s not coming.”

Stella rolled her lips into her mouth, fighting off the urge to spit venom that could put a wrench into whatever this relationship of theirs was. She didn’t want to continue moving backwards, but Harry made it really, very difficult to push forward. Stella shrugged, keeping her eyes ahead of her, “Fine, then neither am I.”

Stella only ever went to his fights because Harry asked her to, not because she had any actual desire to be there. Having to watch her once-boyfriend get punched in the face was never a sight she could fully stomach, and if his unwillingness to see her friend was this strong, then it only gave her motive not to go. 

Harry opened the door to her apartment building once she put the code in, allowing her to enter first. Quite frankly, he doesn’t care if she doesn’t want him to follow, because he does anyway. The idea of Stella not being there for his fight deepens the pit in the bottom of his stomach, and thickens his fear of losing her. 

It’s like this: when Stella is there, Harry knows he’s gonna win, when Stella’s not there, that familiar feeling isn’t in Harry’s gut, and all he feels is uncertainty. Harry can feel the victory gliding through his veins when he steps into the ring, seeing her front row, clapping and whistling and rooting for him.  Calling her his Lucky Star started off as an inside joke, simply because of the meaning of her name and where they first met. After she started coming to his fights, though, Lucky Star became quite literal, and he can’t go without her. 

“Of course you are. I need you there.”

And when they finally got to her front door, Stella inserted her key and unlocked it, but didn’t enter right away, confusing Harry. Stella stood there, facing him, his hand on the door nearly blockading her against the small wooden door, a small smile on her lips. “Okay. Then, River comes. He goes, I go.”

Harry and Stella held a staring contest for what felt like minutes, neither of them willing to back down - both, with the eye contact and the argument that hangs over them like a dark, miserable cloud. Finally, Harry sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head so his chin hit against his chest. He was in no position to keep fighting her, especially if continuing meant jeopardizing her attendance, tonight, in particular.

His favorite smile, a full smile broke out onto Stella’s face, and she couldn’t help reaching up to kiss him on the cheek. Twisting the golden doorknob, she allowed them both into her home. “Did you still wanna take that nap?”

Harry rolled his eyes, stepping inside and shrugging off his tee shirt before the door could even fully shut. “I’ll be on the couch if you need me.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Fifteen minutes until showtime. Fifteen minutes and Stella still wasn’t there.

Harry left her with plenty of time to get ready and to get her friend to come with her. He left her apartment nearly thirty minutes before they had to be at the gym, giving her enough time to get dressed - she was never one for makeup, if she wasn’t on stage - and make her way to the gym long before the match would start. Stella should be here, by now. She’s always early.

Harry was nervous, but not because of his fight - because there was no sign of Stella. Mack has tried to get his mind off of her, but he was basically talking to a wall as Harry kept pacing around the  locker room, clenching and unclenching his fists.

“She’ll be here, H,” Libby tried reassuring him again, but like Mack, she was ignored. After Harry left Stella’s apartment around four, that was the last time he saw or heard from her. Usually, she would send him a text that she’s on her way, but he’s received nothing. The only reason Harry could think of why this is happening, is because of that prick of a dance partner. Harry always drove Stella himself, before their separation, and afterwards, she always sent a text when she was coming. 

Now, the one time River decides to tag-along, there’s no word from her. If Harry didn’t hate him already, he certainly does now.

Niall offered Harry a beer, which he greatly accepted, gulping it down in seconds before crushing the metal of the can in his palm. Then, the locker room door swung open, and a frenzied Stella walked in with a sheepish look on her face.

“Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry, there was a crowd outside that was impossible to get through,” Stella rushed out, coming straight over to Harry and engulfing him in a hug, knowing he must’ve been worried, ignoring the concerned looks on their friends’ and her friend’s faces. Stella was cutting it close to when Harry had to get out there, and she just blamed it entirely on the traffic and drunk crowd of old men, and she knew that wasn’t going to stick with Harry.

“Great! Stella’s here, now. Can you fucking sit down?” Mack hissed, rubbing his temples as he could feel his headache fading away. Stella shyly pulled away from Harry, ignoring Mack’s hardened stare, and made her way over to her friends, greeting them in her usual manner before snagging her own beer from the cooler; and when she pulled out another, that’s when Harry realized the leech that was in the room, too.

Taking a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth, Harry did all he could to ignore River’s existence. He had to remain civil for Stella’s sake. That was the condition of her being there, after all.

“Stell, you didn’t text me,” Harry spoke up, gaining back her attention. 

Stella looked at him with a furrow in her brow before patting her jean pockets and then reaching into her small purse hanging off her arm. “Shit, I forgot my phone back at my place. I’m sorry,” she apologized, only then realizing that she completely forgot her phone and, therefore, forgot to text Harry and confirm her appearance, like she usually did. Stella stepped closer to Harry, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. “I told you I was gonna be here, though.”

Harry looked down at his shoes, biting his lip, biting back his words. Harry wanted to tell Stella he was nervous that she wasn’t gonna show, wanted to tell her that he was worried, wanted to tell her so much. Instead, Harry reached over to the bench where his duffle bag was, pulling out his gloves and offering them to her. “Can you put my gloves on for me?”

It was a bit of a tradition for Stella to put Harry’s gloves on his hands. As if her being there wasn’t enough luck, this action was also a tiny good luck token that Harry always needed before he went out. Stella hesitated for a brief second, not knowing if this was actually a good thing. There was essentially no harm in it, but knowing his reasoning - that it was for good luck, she is his good luck - kind of felt like a punch to her gut. Of course, though, she reached for them anyway, slipping one and then the other on his fists before tightening the straps and knocking the fists together. 

“Good luck, H,” she murmured, giving his right and left fist a little kiss, before dropping his hands all together. 

The little kiss sent a shock through Harry’s spine, because that was something she never did before. A wide smirk formed on his lips, his nerves completely vanishing as confidence swarmed his veins. He stood back up to his full height, saying, “Don’t need it now that you’re here,” just loud enough for her friend to hear on the other side of the room.

“Alright, let’s go!” Mack shouts from the locker room door, holding out Harry’s robe and guard for his mouth.

Harry’s black robe was slipped over his frame as they all walked out of the locker room and into the hall. The bass-driven music was pounding throughout the venue, eliciting a roar from the crowd, because the fun was about to begin. The announcer could be heard, hyping up the audience as he waited for the cue that opponents arrived to their positions. 

Niall, Libby, Stella, and River separated from Harry and Mack, making their way towards their reserved seats in the front row. Harry was barely paying attention to whatever Mack was telling him, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet and cracking his neck as they waited.

Then his name was called. And everything became a blur.

The crowd erupted, he walked to the ring, Mack put his mouth guard in for him, and then the familiar bell of the match sounded. His opponent was no bigger than he was, which was good for him because it called for an easy win. The guy managed to get a few good moves in, delivering a hard right hook straight to Harry’s jaw. All he could see was black for a couple of seconds, but once he regained his composure, the first thing he saw was River’s arm wrapped around Stella’s shoulder.

She was motionless as she watched Harry, hands clasped together and under her chin as she hoped for him to win. It was like she didn’t even notice his arm was on her, and Harry can’t decide if that makes it worse.

The anger from earlier today at the gym, and from picking Stella up, and from Stella being late boiled back inside of him. The look on his face was a deadly one as he spat on the ring floor, raising his fists back in the air, ready to strike. His opponent looked terrified for a quick second, but he too raised his fists, nowhere near ready to give up.

Harry won.

Scary part is, he doesn’t even remember it. 

One moment he’s standing there, the next his arm is being raised in victory as the referee declares him winner. His breathing is heavy, his heart is beating rapidly, and his body is drenched in sweat. He feels hot and disgusting, so he walks over to Mack in the corner, who’s waiting with a towel for Harry to spit his mouthguard on to.

He receives compliments left and right as he makes his way backstage, but he practically ignores them all as he searches for the only one that matters. Her face pops up within seconds out of the crowd, and then she’s making her way towards Harry, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, not caring about the sweat and the stickiness of his skin. “Knew you’d win.”

“I always do when you’re here,” he hums, pecking her cheek and shrugging his shoulders, leaving one arm slung around her, raising his eyebrows in a cocky manner, basically saying I never lose. Stella hums in response, shaking her head at the cockiness, before needing to find the nearest bathroom, stating she’ll be back in a few minutes. 

Niall and Libby didn’t stay for long after the fight, so all that was left was Harry and River. Alone. Alone, while Stella was in the bathroom. Harry tried really hard to ignore him, but being alone fueled the fire in his mind, and couldn’t help himself. “What do y’think you’re doing?”

River was surprised at this, because as far as he knew, he wasn’t doing anything. “Excuse me?”

Harry scoffed, unraveling the tape on his hands, clenching his jaw as he looked up. “Never seen you two so … close, before.”

River shoved his hands in his pockets, shrugging his shoulders. If he was supposed to feel intimidated by Harry, he wasn’t. Who Stella decided to be around was her own decision, and it wasn’t any of Harry’s business what their personal relationship was. Not that it was anything more than friends, Harry didn’t need to know that. “Well, someone has to be there for her. Y’know, after all the pain you caused.”

After all the pain you caused. Harry swallowed at the thought. Their breakup weighs heavy on him, and not a day goes by where he doesn’t think about the pain he caused, the pain that ensued afterwards. He knows he hurt her badly, and he’s not so sure anything could ever make up for what he did, but knowing that others know he hurt her made him feel uneasy. The worst part of it all? Knowing that he wasn’t the one she cried to, confided in, needed support from. 

River was, any of her friends were, but not Harry.

He gripped the bench he was on, mulling over the idea of Stella seeking River out to talk about her relationship problems, and praying Stella would come back quickly before he does something he regrets. Before he could say anything back, River made the decision to keep egging him on, leaning his back against the wall by the door. “Harry, you gotta let her go, mate. I think we both know this will always end badly between the both of you. ”

Harry stood up from his seat, stalking across the room, ending up right in front of River, barely a foot of space between them. Harry doesn’t like the way he says his name, venom and distaste found in every syllable, almost as though she could never see it. “You don’t know shit about Stella and I.”

“Don’t I? I know a lot more than you think, Harry Styles. If you love Stella, you’d stay away from her,” he spat back, narrowing his eyes into slits, taking his hands out of the pockets of his jeans. 

Harry wishes it was that easy. If Harry could physically stay away, he would. She doesn’t deserve the trouble he brings and he most certainly doesn’t deserve her. Love isn’t that easy, though. It can’t be that easy. Stella’s his girl. There’s no one else for him. He can’t let her go.

“You’re bad for her. Can’t you see that?”

And just like that, Harry’s fist came in contact with River’s cheek. The dancer’s body was thrown off his arrogant balance, nearly toppling over onto the floor from the brute impact. Harry gripped the back of his shirt, throwing his back against the wall he was just perched on, taking hold of his jaw so he had nowhere else to look but at him. Harry tilted his head to the side a bit, leaning in just a bit closer so his hushed words could be heard, just between them two.

“You’re gonna go. Stella is my girl, and I won’t go down without a fight - which we both know you’ll lose. So you’re gonna leave her alone, got it?” Harry hissed, tightening his hold on River’s jaw, which any tighter, he could probably break.

River wasn’t happy, that much was evident, but he knew when to give up. Harry was a force he had no time or effort to reckon with, so unwillingly, he nodded his head. His face was dropped, and Harry stepped back, clapping him on the shoulder with a condescending smile as he pointed towards the door to the locker room. Holding his tender face, River gave Harry one last middle finger before walking out.

Harry let out a sigh of relief, knocking his head back so he was facing the ceiling. The deep pit that had been nestled into his gut all day finally vanished, and he finally felt at peace. He could finally get the idea of Stella with anyone else out of his head and maybe, just maybe, get their relationship back on track to what it used to be. For that to happen, though, Harry needed Stella to fully trust him again, and he was still struggling with how to gain her forgiveness. Because anyone that knew Stella knew that she could hold a grudge.

He didn’t get much time to think about it though, because after a million years, Stella finally came back from the bathroom. “I swear, I just don’t think today’s my day. I went into one stall and it didn’t have toilet paper, and the next one didn’t either, and ... Hey, where’s River?” she suddenly wondered, stopping mid-ramble to look around the room, seeing it was just Harry in there.

“Said summat about not feeling good, left a couple minutes ago. I’ll drive you home,” Harry disclosed, tugging his clean clothes out of his bag so he could go take a shower quick before they left.

“Oh, that’s odd. He seemed fine before. I hope he’s better for rehearsals tomorrow,” she spoke worriedly, making a mental note to text him when she gets home. They only had three months until the competition, and they haven’t really performed the dance together yet. They’re already on a time crunch, so him being sick really didn’t help their case.

The whole time they were alone together after Harry’s shower, not a single word was exchanged between them. It wasn’t a necessarily awkward tension between them, but it wasn’t the most comfortable either. The journey across the parking lot to Harry’s car was silent, and then the car ride was only filled with the quiet lull of the music on the radio.

When they arrived outside her building, Harry put the car in park, but Stella didn’t jump to get out just yet. She played with the ring on her finger - that actually used to be Harry’s, gnawing at her bottom lip gently. She was pulled out of her thoughts when Harry placed his hand on her thigh and smiled slightly, and Stella knows exactly what Harry’s going to say. It’s the same every week, every match.

“Thank you for coming.” 

Stella glanced up at him, pulling a small smile across her lips, slowly nodding her head. For some reason, she could feel tears and anguish building up inside of her, causing her to look away quickly as she reached for her purse on the floor between her feet. She placed her hand on the door handle, ready to pull on it before turning back around to face him for one last time in the night. “Congratulations, H. I’ll see you soon.”

Then she was gone, and that unmistakable pit in Harry’s stomach resurfaced. 

.・゜゜・ Stella  .・゜゜・

Stella can see her anger. That’s all she can see at this moment. Bright red. Burning anger. Fueling rage. Usually, Stella knows how to channel her anger, to calm herself and bring herself back to Earth and level herself out without making a scene. However, right now, Stella absolutely cannot. All of her rage is targeted at one person, one person that she swore she’d never take the time to be this angry at ever again. 

Harry.

Stella hasn’t been this angry since she and Harry broke up over a year ago, since the moment she stepped on the stage and realized that the one person that she wanted to be there wasn’t there at all. Stella hasn’t been this angry since Harry blamed it on oversleeping and forgetting, since he lied to her face and tried to win her back with broken promises and empty words. Stella hasn’t been this angry ever in her life, and it’s beginning to make her skin hot and her face sweat with the rush of it all. 

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

“What do you mean you’re through?” Harry asks angrily as he begins pacing around the bedroom that he and Stella practically share at his apartment. Stella’s old place was nearly empty by the time they were dating for six months and she was about to sign the final paperwork to end her lease and move in permanently with him. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Stella says harshly, shaking her head and sucking back tears that are threatening to fall. Stella can’t cry. Not right now. Harry can’t see how broken she is over this, over everything.

“Is this because I missed the performance? Is that what all this is about?”

Stella sets her clothes in the suitcase and looks at Harry with tears in her eyes, biting back a laugh and sucking in a deep breath, one singular tear falling down her cheek as she stares at him. Harry looks broken, as if someone’s dug a knife into his chest and twisted at the seams. In a way, Stella is glad he feels this way, this hurt, this pained, because maybe, just maybe, Harry would understand how she felt to win and be completely alone, without the one person that she wanted there.

Stella’s mind goes back to the memory of the competition, of how she felt. 

Stella stepped onto the stage with nothing but joy and pride in her eyes. Stella’s first national title was about to be won as long as she scores high enough, and that would mean she would be one step closer to earning the money to open her own studio. Her mother, Luna, is in the audience, Harry’s mother and sister, all of their friends are there ready to cheer her on. Harry should be there, his flight landed nearly an hour ago, and he said he was going to come right there to watch her. Harry promised that much.

Stella performed her very best, danced the best she’s ever done, earned a standing ovation from the audience and the judges and a perfect score on her sheets. Angie hugged her tightly as she came off the stage, River shortly behind, her eyes looking expectantly out in the crowd to see her family and friends and searching rather impatiently for the one person that she wanted there the most. Harry wasn’t there. Harry wasn’t there at all.

“Of course, that’s what this is about, Harry! Are you dense?” Stella shouts without meaning to, frustration lacing her voice and making it nearly impossible to keep level headed. “You missed the most important competition of my career. For what? Because you overslept? Because you didn’t want to fly?”

“Stella.”

“Wait, were you sleeping with that one girl? What’s her name? Molly? The one that’s been following you around to all your matches, lately?” Stella seemingly has made up her mind before Harry’s even opened his mouth to respond. “That’s it, isn’t it?”

“No, Stella. I have never and would never cheat on you,” Harry says sternly, shaking his head and taking a cautious step forward, his chin dropping to his chest when Stella takes a step away from him. “Don’t believe me, that’s fair, but I swear to you, I never cheated. I overslept. I got lazy and missed my flight. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“God, Harry, grow up! You’re such a fucking hypocrite!”

“I’m not a hypocrite,” Harry grits through his teeth, shaking his head and cracking his knuckles, clenching and unclenching his fists to try and gain control of his anger. He always had a bit of a temper. 

“How would you feel if I missed one of your matches? One of your biggest matches, because I was too tired from dance and from work and didn’t want to get on a flight.”

“I would understand, Stella,” Harry lies, trying desperately to soften his eyes and make her believe him. He wasn’t trying to manipulate her into staying, per se, but he certainly wouldn’t admit that he would be furious at her, that he wouldn’t take an apology and would likely need a few days to cool off from how angry he would be. “Maybe I wouldn’t understand, I would be angry. I wouldn’t break up with you, though.”

“No, Harry, you’d just give me the silent treatment until I begged you to come home and apologized for days,” Stella says confidently, anger lacing every word that she’s spitting out and making him all the more able to see that he won’t be winning this argument any time soon. “I know you, Harry Styles. I know you better than anyone, and I know how angry you’d be at me. Harry, you wouldn’t speak to me for days if I missed a match. And yet, you can miss my biggest competition, which I won, by the way, and try to get away with it scott free, without any repercussions. It doesn’t work like that, Harry. Life doesn’t work that way. Just because you’re good looking and a good boxer doesn’t mean you can just get away with anything!”

“I’m not trying to get away with it, Stella. I said I’m sorry!” Harry booms, his voice travelling around the bedroom and echoing in her ears, the velocity of his voice against the thin walls making sure their neighbors must’ve heard everything. Stella, frankly, doesn’t care at this moment. All Stella cares about is getting the hell away from Harry Styles. “Stella, please don’t go. I need you. You’re my lucky charm. I’ll fuck up if you’re not there.”

“That’s it? That’s why you want me to stay - because I’m good luck?” Stella asks astonishedly, shaking her head and zipping her suitcase even faster than she originally planned on it. Stella thought about making things dramatic, dragging it out slowly and surely, but of course Harry had to go and say something absolutely ridiculous to make her even more angry. Harry doesn’t know how to watch his mouth. “Fuck you, Harry.”

“Stella, I love you,” Harry says as a final plea, taking her wrist in his strong grip and turning her around, forcing her to look into his eyes. Stella’s expression is lifeless and cold, her honey eyes darkened and worn with anger. Harry doesn’t recognize this Stella, he doesn’t recognize her at all. This isn’t his Lucky Charm, his Stella Bella, his Stella. This isn’t his girl. This woman hates him. Hates him a lot. “Stella, I’m so fucking sorry. I love you. I want you because I love you. I don’t care about the stupid, bloody fights.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly. “Okay, I care a little bit. It’s how I pay for my life. It’s my job, Stella. I was tired, and I thought it wouldn’t matter if I missed one competition. I wasn’t thinking. That was wrong of me. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Harry, you need to grow up. I would do anything for you, quite literally anything, and you couldn’t even get on a plane to see me perform on the biggest stage I’ve ever performed on, for a national title, for me. I lied to your family for you. I lied to my family for you. I lied to our friends. I told everyone your flight got delayed and you were watching the livestream. I won’t do that again. I won’t lie to the people I care about for you, ever again. I’m not going to put myself in that situation,” Stella says sternly, shaking her head and yanking her wrist away from Harry’s grasp. “Maybe one day we’ll make it work, but you need to grow up. Harry, you’re jealous and immature and you think the world revolves around you. News flash, it fucking doesn’t.”

“My world doesn’t revolve around me, Stella,” Harry shouts as Stella begins walking out the door. “It revolves around you! Everything I do is for you, Stella.”

Stella looks at Harry longingly, as if she wishes that the words were enough to make her stay. “If your world revolved around me, Harry, then you would’ve been there, and I wouldn’t be walking out the door, right now.”

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

Knocking on Stella’s door came early, a bright seven in the morning with the sun freshly risen, a few hours before she was meant to meet River at the studio. They were meant to rehearse for a few hours at the studio, before Stella would go to the gym and meet Harry for his training for the match that was in a few week’s time. That Stella knew. That was all in Stella’s mind as she wrapped a robe around her figure and hurried to the front door where the knocking was incessant and repetitive.

This, though. This, Stella had no idea about. 

Stella opened the door, dazed and confused by River’s appearance, hurrying him inside and making a cup of coffee for them both. River had a bruise the size of a fist on his cheek, and a scrape along his forehead that makes it seem like he was smacked into the ground.

Immediately, Stella knew. Stella Smalls instantly knew who the culprit was and why it was happening. It made her furious. Harry always had a bit of a temper, a bit of a jealousy issue when they were together, but it was never anything that she couldn’t handle by herself. This, though, was too much.

“Look Stella, I love you. I love you as my friend,” River says softly, taking a sip of the coffee she’s set in front of him apologetically and running his finger around the rim. “I love you as a dancer, I love you as a partner, I do. I don’t want you to think that I don’t.”

“River,” Stella says hesitantly, knowing exactly where he’s going with his sentence, going exactly where she doesn’t want him to go. This could ruin her life, her chances at winning the title, of opening her own studio this year. This could ruin everything. All because of Harry.

“I can’t be your partner anymore, Stella.” There, River said it. Stella knew that was going to be it, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t sting like a bitch. “Can’t be your partner, Stella, not if you’re going to be friends with Harry and he’s going to be around all the time. Harry is, quite frankly, Harry is a mess to deal with and a temper and a lot. Know that it’s not fair to make you choose, and I don’t plan on making you choose.” River is too good for Stella. Way too good. “I think you need to do this piece as a solo act for the world title. Stella, it’s so good. It really is. You’re going to perform it wonderfully on stage.”

“Except you can’t do it with me,” she says, toying with the rings on her fingers and clenching her knuckles together into fists, fighting the urge to smack her hand against the marble counter.

“Right,” he says regretfully, dipping his head to his chest and letting the air puff out between his lips. “I’m so sorry, Stella.”

“I, um, I think I need to be alone,” Stella sighs, saying every word with regret and shame and anger, sadness lacing every syllable. “I don’t understand, not really, but I’ll try to. Honestly, though, I just want to be alone, right now.”

River simply nods quietly and stands from the barstool at her kitchen counter, walking towards the entryway of her apartment and opening the front door. “I’ll see you at the studio?”

“Mhm,” she hums without saying a word, discontentedly drawing a circle around the rim of her mug and not daring to look away from the ceramic cup in her hands. 

“Bye, Stella,” River says as he walks out the front door, regret and sadness lacing his voice. Stella wants to punch him in the other eye for feeling pity for her. He should’ve been stronger, acted tougher, not let Harry get to him. Maybe Harry should’ve left him alone. “I’m sorry.”

Her head slowly nods and her eyes stay cast on the marble counter that she’s leaning on. Stella doesn’t want River to see her cry. Angry cry, that is. 

All of Stella’s anger is channeled towards Harry. All of it. Every ounce. There is not one bone in her body that isn’t infuriated with Harry Styles, that wants to punch him in the face and yell until her cheeks turn blue. Harry ruined her chance at the World Title by doing this. He’s ruined her chance at opening her own studio. He’s ruined it. 

Harry is at the gym, that’s easy to know. He always is. This calms Stella, knowing exactly where to go and what to do. Maybe not what to say, but that will come with her anger as she ruminates in the frustration. Stella wipes her tears from her cheeks, readies herself for the day - which includes wearing one of his training shirts and jeans and trainers - and hurries along to the gym down the street, rushing inside and bursting through the doors to see the man of the hour, pummeling away at a free-standing punching bag, sweat dripping down his forehead. 

“Harry Styles,” Stella shouts, walking in and commanding the attention of everyone in the room. “Harry Edward Styles!”

“H,” Mack says, ripping an earphone from Harry’s ear and nodding towards where his ex-girlfriend is angrily walking towards them, hands balled into fists. “Got a visitor. An angry one.”

“Stell, what are you doing here so early?” Harry wonders confusedly, brushing his hair away from his forehead and sucking in a deep breath, slowly taking the gloves off his fists and tucking them under his arm. “Are you okay?”

“Am I okay?” Stella scoffs, throwing her head back in a thick and pained laugh and lifting her hands in the air with a smack to her thighs. “Am I okay? River quit today. Quit the whole fucking routine. All because someone made one too many threats about being with me.”

“Have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry shrugs, walking away and pushing the door into the Men’s Locker Room open, waiting for the yelling to diminish, especially considering how many people were staring in the center of the gym. He reaches his locker, ignoring the calling of his name behind him and opens his locker, shoving his gloves and mouth guard into the metal container and taking a towel and wiping the sweat clinging to his forehead. His hand slams against the locker next to him, causing a banging sound to resound through the quaint space. 

“Don’t walk away from me, Harry,” Stella shouts from outside the locker room door, waiting rather impatiently for him to exit, and when he doesn’t in a near thirty seconds, she’s storming inside after him, ignoring the calls and squeamish shouts from the grown men changing in the midst of the room. “Fuck, Harry, you’re such an asshole, you know that! Making my partner quit on me, three months before my competition!”

“Awfully cozy with someone that’s just your partner, Stella,” Harry says sarcastically, drawing out every syllable and taking a step away from the locker, and standing with his hands on his hips as he stares at her, taking in the beauty that she gives off so effortlessly. “Not to mention, I didn’t make him quit. I simply said that he needed to take a step back. Coming to my fights with you. Kissing you. Making a show with you. That’s not what a partner does.”

“Harry, I’m not your girl anymore! I’m not someone you get to be jealous over and fight over! Get that through your thick head!” she screams angrily, huffing a breath and ignoring the stares that she’s receiving as the remainder of the men in the locker room leave the two to argue quietly.

Harry cracks open his locker and reaches for his water, his eyes falling to the photographs that are still stuck on the inside of the metal door. “Of course, that’s what you think, Stella, but, you’ll always be my girl.”

Harry can’t shut the locker door before Stella sees the photostrip, the three photographs of the two of them from their anniversary two years ago. “Is that?” Her eyes well with tears at the thought, the photographs that she searched high and low for after their breakup to try and hide away with all of the other things that she saved in a wooden box beneath her bed, all the photographs and memories that she wanted to keep for the day they, maybe, got back together like she had thought about, at first. “Have you kept them all this time?”

“Not like you were going to want them anymore,” Harry says spitefully, slamming his locker shut and walking towards where she is, setting his hands on either side of the locker that she’s standing against and holding her between his arms. “Not like you wanted me anymore.”

“Harry, don’t,” she says sadly, slinking beneath his arms and walking towards the locker, turning his birthday in the pin and opening the combination, her hands reaching for the photostrip and running her fingers along the tattered photographs, reminiscing sweetly on the memory. “Did you know I looked everywhere for these? I wanted them.”

“Wanted them for what, Stella? To what? Throw out?” Harry is angry, clenching his hands into fists and getting ready to take the photograph out of her hands before she can take them and run away with them. That’s the last thing that he has of Stella that isn’t broken and shoved in a bin beneath his mattress. That’s the last thing he has left of when his Lucky Star was his.

“No,” Stella sniffles, wiping her eyes and sticking the photograph back on the metal wall of the locker door. “I wanted to keep it for when we got back together, you prick. I thought, I thought we’d get back together. I didn’t think we’d stay apart.”

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Stella,” Harry warns, stepping around the bench separating them and leaning one hand on the locker next to Stella’s head, her thumbs tracing over the photographs where she’s hiding in his neck laughing and he’s holding her tightly, the one where they’re kissing and smiling and they look happy, because they were. Harry and Stella were so happy together. Harry softens looking at the tears on her cheeks, and cautiously leans forward to wipe a stray tear from her skin. “Stella Grace, look at me.” 

Cautiously, Stella lifts her head and meets Harry’s stare, his intense green eyes staring back at her longingly and - dare she say - lovingly, his thumb going under her chin and holding her face to his. “What, Harry? I’m not sure what else you could possibly want from me. Especially now, when I have no duet partner and the World Title is only three months away. You’ve royally fucked me over, Harry.”

“I am so sorry, Stella. I didn’t think River would quit.” Stella looks at Harry knowingly, threateningly, as if to say, I will leave if you don’t tell me the truth, and that whips Harry into shape. Harry can’t let her leave. This is selfish of him, of course it is. Harry loves Stella. Love can be selfish sometimes. Can’t it? “Okay, well, I hoped he would. I wasn’t thinking about you, though. That was selfish of me. I’m sorry. I love you, Stella. I act selfish and stupid when I think about you with someone else. It makes me do crazy things. Stupid things. Tell me what I have to do to make it right, Stella.”

Stella thinks for a minute, really contemplating all that Harry has said and how she feels and the emotions that are rushing through her in that moment, everything feeling a bit too much and like she needs to break away and find herself in the studio dancing over and over until she can make sense of everything. That’s what Stella does - Stella dances to make sense of everything. That’s when it hits her.

“Dance with me.”

“Huh?” Harry chokes out, shaking his head immediately and wondering how in the hell Stella came up with that as what he needed to do to win her over. “Stella.”

“Harry, you need to dance with me, or you need to leave me alone. That’s it.”

[callivich]

I love the idea of time travel and I just couldn’t get this idea out of my head, so here’s a little time travel story! Reworked this so it’s slightly different and longer! Planning on a part two soon.....

———

Ian had been standing in the kitchen of his and Mickey’s new apartment. He had been about to make some coffee and take it to his husband who was still sleeping. Everything had been normal and fine - he’d been idly thinking about what they were going to do that day. It was Saturday and Mickey had, the night before, demanded not to be woken early, but other than that, they had no plans. Maybe a dip in the pool? It was sunny, but not too warm, which was good because the slightly cool weather meant less people in the pool.

And, just as he was imagining swimming lazily in an empty pool with his husband, it seemed like he blinked and the whole world had shifted sharply. He felt dizzy and his vision swam, his body felt weak and he collapsed against a nearby wall, trying to catch his breath. It was like no feeling he’d ever experienced.

Blinking furiously, he noticed something alarming - he was not leaning against his kitchen wall, he was somewhere else. Somewhere he never thought he’d ever go again. Somewhere it was impossible to go again, but he recognised it immediately. The Milkovich house. He glanced around at his surroundings, struggling to understand how he could be standing outside Mickey’s old bedroom. What the fuck?? Was he dreaming? Or, worse, hallucinating? If he was dreaming or hallucinating, it was the most realistic thing he had ever experienced, there was nothing dreamlike about it. Everything looked exactly the same as he remembered - the signs on Mickey’s door, the dirt covered carpet, the dimly lit hallway - it even smelled the same - that stale mixture of smoke, beer and sweat.

It was too much - this situation he found himself in, it couldn’t be real, and yet, apparently it was. He felt a sharp burst of panic, his chest felt tight, and he reflexively clenched his hands, trying to calm himself. It was then he realised he was holding something. It was heavy and solid in his hand, and as he stared at it, it took him a few seconds to understand what he was seeing - it was a tire iron. And then everything began to click into place - he noted his worn, hand-me-down clothes and when he reached up to feel his hair with his free hand, his fingers found bangs. An overwhelming feeling of familiarity washed over him, he remembered these clothes, he remembered holding the tire iron and he remembered why he was holding the tire iron. Most importantly, he remembered this day. It was the day that everything changed between him and Mickey - the stolen gun, the fight, the sex - and he was in his teenage body. Shit.

Ian didn’t know what to do. This was impossible. There was simply no way it was possible. And yet, here he stood, years in the past. His mind began to race with possibilities - should he leave? and go where? back to the Gallagher house? or should he stay here and wait to see what happens? would anything happen? would he blink and be back in his kitchen? or was he stuck here in the past forever? He wanted to go home, to his apartment with Mickey, he wanted his husband. Mickey. A thought occurred to him - maybe Mickey, his Mickey, was here too? Not that would automatically fix everything, but at least Ian wouldn’t be alone. He stared at the door, he needed to know either way - either Mickey was also, somehow, here in the past, and they could figure this out together, or he was about to run into angry, teenage Mickey, who perhaps didn’t hate Ian as much as Ian had assumed at the time, but was definitely not his friend.

He paused outside the door, and as he took a deep breath, his hand tightened on the tire iron - unsure if he should just leave it on the floor. He definitely wasn’t going to hit Mickey with it, but if it was teenage Mickey in there, then Ian hoped the sight of the tire iron would stop Mickey from hitting him. Ian pushed open the door, and softly shut it behind him with a click. There was Mickey, laid out on the bed, face down, asleep, just as Ian remembered. It was bizarre seeing this again, at the time he had no idea how this day would change his life, but here it was - the moment that their lives began to become entwined.

This wasn’t the time to reminisce though. Ian gently, much more gently than he had done so originally, poked Mickey in the back with the end of the tire iron. Perhaps too gently, because Mickey didn’t move. This was promising - teenage Mickey was a light sleeper, but in the safety of their apartment, adult Mickey had began to sleep heavily, and Ian hoped that the fact Mickey didn’t move immediately meant that this was his husband.

“Mickey. Wake up.” Ian moved closer to the bed, and tapped him on the back with his free hand.

That did it, there was an annoyed groan, and Mickey turned his head, so Ian could now see his dirt-smudged face, but didn’t open his eyes, only muttering a tired, “No.” This was different to what had happened before, but Ian still wasn’t sure if this was his Mickey or teenage Mickey.

“Wake up.” Ian tried again, this time giving his shoulder a shake.

“Fucks sake, Ian, it’s the weekend....I wanna sleep in.” Mickey mumbled, sleepily. Still, he didn’t open his eyes, just reached out a hand, and when he didn’t feel anything but an empty space, he continued, “Come back to bed.”

It seemed like Mickey thought Ian should be in bed with him, and relief flooded through Ian. This was his Mickey! Now he just needed to actually wake the fuck up.

Feeling more confident, he sat down on the bed next to Mickey, dropped the tire iron on the floor, and ran a hand down his back. “Mick. Open your eyes. But don’t freak out.”

“What am I gonna freak -” And then he was speechless. His eyes were finally open and he looked at Ian in shock. “What the fuck?”

“I know.”

Mickey’s eyes darted around the room, back to Ian, down at himself, and then settled on Ian. He reached a hand out to touch Ian’s face softly, running his fingers over the freckles. “Fuck. What’s going on? How...”

“I don’t know?! I was in the kitchen, I was going to make coffee, and then suddenly I was here and shit, I thought I was dreaming, or hallucinating, but this is all so real. So it must be real?” The words tumbled out and Ian was so glad that he wasn’t going to have to deal with this alone.

“I don’t....the last thing I remember was going to bed with you.” Mickey sat up, and swung his legs around to sit close to Ian. “This is fucked up. It’s fucking impossible.” He ran a hand down his face, before turning to stare at Ian again in disbelief. And Ian couldn’t help but do the same back - he still couldn’t believe his eyes.

“What are we going to do?” Ian broke the silence, they couldn’t sit here staring at each other all day.

“Shit. I don’t fucking know.” Mickey frowned for a moment, as if considering something and then pinched Ian on the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“In case it’s a dream.”

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself.” Ian grumbled, as he pinched Mickey on the arm. “There. Feel real?”

“Hardly felt that, but yeah.” He looked around his room. “So, I guess we’re in the past. That means -”

Mickey didn’t have time to finish his sentence because the door opened and a ghost entered. Or rather, not a ghost, someone who was very much alive. Terry. Mickey instantly tensed up, his hands balling into fists. Terry made his way into the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Ian didn’t think, he just pulled Mickey close, hugging him tight.

“Fuck. Shit.” Mickey let out a shuddering breath. “Ian, we can’t.” He moved away reluctantly. Ian felt his heart clench but nodded, shifting away to the end of the bed. Of course they couldn’t hug, not here, not now. Fuck. Ian wanted to punch the wall. Mickey pinched the bridge of his nose, “I can’t fucking be here, man.” He jumped up and threw on some more clothes and some shoes.

Terry stumbled back out of the bathroom, and Mickey froze, his eyes wide, still unbelieving of what he was seeing. He kept staring at the door after Terry left. It was surreal seeing Terry alive, walking around like normal. And if Ian thought it was surreal, he couldn’t imagine what Mickey was thinking. Or rather, he probably could guess. His mind drifted to thoughts of Monica - she was alive here, what would it be like to see her again? Would he felt strange? Horrified? Upset? And Frank....shit, Frank had only just died, but right now, he was alive.

He pushed the thoughts away, they needed to leave. This was all too confusing. Mickey had only just finally come to terms with Terry’s death and this....this fucked up situation was only going to cause him pain. And Ian was still going through some pretty strange and surprisingly upsetting emotions about Frank’s death, it was all still so raw. Neither of them needed to be confronted by their dead fathers (did anyone ever?), especially not so close to said fathers deaths. The room felt too small, too hot, Ian knew they needed to leave. It was impossible to think here.

“Let’s get out of here.” Ian tugged on Mickey’s hand, squeezing it gently, before dropping it.

“Where?” Mickey questioned, shrugging on a coat.

“One of the abandoned buildings? At least then we know we’ll be alone. And we can try and figure out what we’re going to do.”

Mickey gave a whispered “yeah” and flung open his bedroom door, hurrying towards the front of the house, causing Ian to jog behind him to catch up. He was about to reach him when Mandy appeared. Ian’s stomach did a pleasant flip when he saw her - he’d missed her so much and here she was, looking exactly the same as he remembered. He fought the urge to hug her tightly.

“Ian? Are you ok?” Her eyes searched his face curiously, like she could tell something was wrong. But that was stupid, Ian thought, even if she could, she would never guess it was that Ian and Mickey had somehow time travelled from the present back to the future.

“Uh...yeah. I just...” He couldn’t help it - he glanced at Mickey who had paused by the front door, looking over his shoulder at Ian. “I gotta go home.”

“Ok. But-”

“Everything’s fine, Mandy. I’ll see ya.” He could hear the tremble in his voice and he could tell from the slight frown on her face that she was concerned. She looked back and forth between Ian and Mickey, her eyes narrowing and noticing Mickey’s hand on the door. “Where are you going, shithead?”

“Out.” And with that, Mickey practically flung himself through the doorway and made his way onto the sidewalk. Ian waved a hand in Mandy’s direction, wishing he could explain to her but knowing he couldn’t, and headed out, shutting the door behind him. He felt guilty brushing her off, but Mickey was his priority.

“Mick.” He called out as he caught up. He bumped his shoulder against Mickey’s and they began to make their way to one of the more isolated abandoned buildings, both knowing which one they should go to. They walked in silence, both of them struggling to make sense of where, and when, they found themselves. So, it was no surprise that neither of them noticed the figure that followed them.

——

Ian watched Mickey as he climbed the old, battered stairs in front of him, he could see the heavy tension in his shoulders. It was familiar but not something he had seen in awhile. Mickey was relaxed and happy, most of the time, they were finally settling into the West Side and things were good - safe and stable - and their days were filled with kisses and laughter, they just were enjoying being together. But, now, they had been thrown backwards to a time when things were dangerous and unstable and complicated.

There was a splintered door, which Mickey kicked open with his foot. He sighed heavily and Ian grasped his hand, leading him towards one of the walls. They sunk down onto the floor, backs against the cold brick. Ian moved to cuddle Mickey close, but it was awkward. He was used to being able to hold Mickey easily, but here, now, as they were a similar height, it was different. He had never had the luxury of being able to hug or be close to Mickey like this back then, so he wasn’t used to trying to hold him like this. Eventually, with some fumbling, they managed to find a good angle. Mickey slumped down a bit, and Ian put his arm around Mickey’s shoulders, they were pressed close, and Mickey threw one leg over Ian’s, and rested his head close to Ian’s neck.

“This isn’t fucking fair.” Mickey whispered. “What the fuck is this shit and why is it happening to us?”

“I’m scared.” Ian replied, using his free hand to grab one of Mickey’s. “What if we’re stuck here?”

“Your meds.” Mickey squeezed Ian’s hand. “What are we going to do about your meds?”

“I don’t....” Ian faltered. He hadn’t even considered that. What was he going to do? He hadn’t been diagnosed back then, now, so what did that mean in terms of his illness? The fear that had been bubbling under the surface suddenly began to overflow. What the fuck was he going to do? “I don’t know. Shit. Mick. I don’t-”

“We’ll figure it out.” Mickey put his free hand on top of his and Ian’s clasped ones. Ian wanted to believe Mickey but he didn’t feel convinced, and as confident as Mickey sounded, Ian could hear the worry.

“Ok. Yeah. We’ll figure it out. But, what are we going to do, like right now? We can’t stay here tonight.”

“I can’t go back there. I can’t see-”

“I know. I know. We’ll stay at my house.” Ian cut him off before he could say his father’s name. It felt strange saying that - my house - because it wasn’t, not anymore. His house, his home, was the apartment he shared with Mickey.

“And how the fuck do we explain that? And what about Frank? You gonna be able to deal with seeing him again?”

“Don’t care.” He heard Mickey snort. “I don’t care Mick, you’re my fucking husband, and I love you and we need to-”

“Holy fucking shit! What the hell is this?” A shocked voice cut through the air, startling both of them.

Ian and Mickey jerked their heads up at the same time to see Mandy standing in the doorway, a look of complete and utter disbelief on her face. They had been so wrapped up in their problem, that they hadn’t noticed her following them or heard her making her way up the steps of the building. They slowly disentangled from each other in a way that Ian noted would not have happened in their teenage years. Mickey would have shoved Ian off back then, but now, he was so used to not hiding or feeling afraid that he didn’t. As much as Ian would like to focus on the growth Mickey was showing, he knew he couldn’t. Because right now, the stakes were too high.

Ian’s heart pounded, he knew they needed to say something. He could trust Mandy. He had done so before. But fuck, there was so much more he knew in hindsight. So many more terrible, violent things that he knew he could not let any of them go through again.

Which is why he blurted out the first thing he thought of, “It’s cold. We were cold, so we were just warming up.”

Ian didn’t need to look at Mickey to know he was probably rolling his eyes.

“Cold?” Mandy folded her arms and leaned against the wall. “Thank fuck I’m not a cop Ian because you would not last-”

“What the fuck are you doing here? You follow us?” Mickey interrupted. “Go away.”

“No. Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Mandy pushed off the wall and walked to towards them. “Ian, what’s going on? I thought you and Kash-”

“Fuck him.”

“Shut up, Mickey. I’m talking to Ian.”

“Mandy, please. This isn’t what it.....can you just forget you came here? Please? And please don’t say anything. To anyone.” Ian pleaded. He needed her to go. He loved her, and he loved seeing her again, but fuck, this was not the time. He couldn’t think with her here. All he kept thinking of was when Terry found him and Mickey - that horrible morning that always made his stomach churn when he thought about it. He didn’t think Mandy would tell. But in that moment it felt like it was too much - someone else knowing - he just couldn’t handle it right now. He just wanted to be with Mickey. “I’m begging you, Mandy. Please.”

Mandy bit her lip, in the same way Ian had seen Mickey do a thousand times. She looked back and forth between them, uneasy and suspicious, Ian realised he had tears in his eyes and he could see the exact moment Mandy noticed. “Fine. But you owe me an explanation Ian. And so do you Mickey.”

“Yes.” Ian breathed in relief. And he watched her turn on her heel and leave. They stood in silence until they were sure she was gone.

“So, what now?” Mickey pulled Ian close, his arms winding around his waist.

“Maybe if we fall asleep, we’ll wake up back home?” Ian hoped more than anything that would be true.

“Thought you were awake when you came here. Back? Now? Whatever.”

“I was but....who the fuck knows right? It’s worth a try.”

“Yeah. Maybe. But we can’t sleep here.”

[choclatecoveredlove]

congrats on 200!! could i send in a matchup for twisted wonderland :)

my name is mari and my pronouns r she/they! the only characters I would not like to be matched with is ortho or sebek :)

I am a very introverted person in public. I really don't like drawing attention to myself or socializing. I tend to be shy and hang around behind someone,I just get too overwhelmed and nervous in crowded places. I have a hard time making friends, just because I feel like I could freak out, so you could also say I'm a loner. This also leads me to being jealous about others, seeing them live the teenage dream with there friends. buuut when you really get to know me I'm the loudest person ever! I'm clumsy, goofy and laugh- alot. I love joking around and keeping the mood good. I'm a very talkative person too, I could rant about anything for hours, but I get distracted and it ends up being rambling about nothing related to what i was saying. I can be childish too, I sometimes act like child pouting and stomping (it's all in jokes though). with my friends, I'm generally the same, abit of a pervert though- alittle too straightforward with it and make sexual jokes, but i know when and when not too do it. I'm a good listener and advice giver, i'm the therapist friend.my bad traits are that I am moody and blunt. I can get angry randomly for nothing or very sad and unmotivated. alittle bit of a control freak, I just need things to go my way sometimes. i can be a huuuge pessimist, about literally anything. I try to see the brightside, but the bad thoughts never cease to win.

I like anime/manga, true crime, thrifting, fashion and makeup, SOME horror movies, kpop, metal or alt/indie rock, video games, cozy warm things,sweet foods, alternative fashion (including romantic goth, trad goth or scene emo recently!) i dislike bugs, clowns,dolls,hot weather,bright colors, early mornings, salty foods,arguments, any movies that r space related, crowded places/unfamiliar places.

my hobbies include gaming, reading, watching anime/manga, photography (if i ever get my arse up), fashion, window shopping online and sleeping.

my ideal date is something like an amusement park or a picnic in a park. Something that's relaxing or that we can just be ourselves.

extra facts!

I tend to daydream alot. I think of scenarios of me being outgoing and able to make friends, and sometimes my personality can change on that. I get confused and insecure about it.

I'm one of those people who wear sweaters in the damn heat. Also though ironically I hate sweating, but I wear black 24/7 so i sweat like a waterfall.

OMG THE REAL MITSKI IN MY INBOX!!!!! Hehe anyway,,, dude I could neverrr wear sweaters in the heat- especially since I live in the south. Anyway enjoy your request!!

Your match is: Floyd!!

i was kinda torn between jade and floyd but i ended up going with floyd :)

floyd is straight up not shy, like at all and by no means introverted!! so this is kinda an opposites attract situation

floyd really likes your sense of humor, he too is very silly and goofy, you two could probably spend a couple hours just messing around

you 🤝 floyd : moody people solidarity. it’s always good having someone to relate too :)

floyd shares most of your hobbies, except photography but if you like it that much then he’ll start taking an interest in it

floyd’s ideal date changes hourly but he’s not really opposed to anything (except hiking) so he’d definitely do whatever you wanna do

also you are definitely getting your own sea themed nickname

“Neeee- I’m boreeeed. Let’s go do something, cmon!”

[storiesofsvu]

Can We Stop Running?

Warnings: language

You knew getting involved with someone meant that your habits and daily activities would start spilling over into each others lives, you knew Amanda Rollins had two beautiful girls, something you were more than okay with, hell if it meant you didn’t have to have you own, all the better. You knew that Amanda worked some crazy hours and an intense job, you were more than okay with being the one she came home to, dinner waiting, the girls bathed and waiting for bedtime stories. You were more than ready to let her snuggle up to you, holding her close while she mentally dealt with the things she saw at work, whether she wanted to talk, cry or simply just pretend she was paying attention to the trashy reality tv that played in front of you. Hell, you were even okay with the trashy reality television, and as much as you hated to admit it, you were starting to actually like it.

You spent most of your free time at Amanda’s apartment, the girls and Frannie making it harder for her to come to yours, which again, you didn’t mind. As long as you got to spend time curled up next to the blonde, covering her faces with silly kisses when she needed cheering up, listening to her when the job got to be a little too much, cooking for her when she was about to order take out for the millionth time that week, and especially when you would be the one making her gasp for air, moaning and whimpering your name out quietly into the darkness of her bedroom.

What you weren’t expecting, were the early morning runs through Central Park, or any park really, the weather didn’t stop her either, freezing your way through February, or sweating your way through August, she was running practically every morning. You were active, hell you were the one usually racing off to a Cross fit class, but cardio?! No thank you. The two of you had left the girls with the nanny, as to not have to deal with a stroller on top of everything else on this particular run through Central. Amanda was paces ahead of you, despite having been together a while, you still hated the whole running thing, and always told her not to wait for you, not wanting to hold her back or screw with her time. The days the girls were gone, she usually made it up to you in the shower before you both took off to work, which was more than okay with you. Realizing how far ahead she was, Amanda slowed to a jog, waiting for you to catch up.

“Can we stop running? I think I’m dying!” She laughed at that, reaching out to you,

“You’re fine honey, it’s not too much further ’til we’re home.” She pecked your cheek softly, the words tumbled out of your mouth before you even realized,

“You’re lucky I fuckin love you.” Amanda had been ready to take off for the final stretch when she turned back to you, not surprised to find you bent over your knees catching your breath, she pulled you upright.

“What’d’you just say?” Her face perplexed as she took your face in, you flushed, pushing your hair out of your face.

“Jesus….I certainly never thought I’d say it while you were forcing me to run a 5k before coffee, but fuck, ‘Manda I love you.” Your hand stroked her cheek gently, “I get it if that freaks you out or you don’t wanna say it back, believe me, we’ve- - “ You were cut off by her lips meeting yours, pulling you into a passionate kiss, you could feel the love coming back from her as you parted, bright smiles and soft laughs evident on both of your faces.

“I love you too.” She murmured, giving you a quick peck, before her face contoured into a smirk, “And if you keep up with me the entire way home I’ll make you cum so hard in the shower you won’t be thinking of anything but my mouth for the rest of the week.” You barely had a second to process what she’d said before she took off running,

“I swear to GOD Rollins!!” You were hot on her heels, and she was very quick to start your post run morning off in a very pleasurable way.

_______

Taglist: @charabs @natasha-danvers @ineedafinghug @laurenhope13 @randomthingssss @vivis-ghost-wife @imlike-so-gay-dude @altsvu @thatesqcrush @whispered-tear-drops @redlipstickandplaid @whimsicallymad

[always-against-the-grain]

winter break pt I

Summary: You come home for winter break and pick things up with your neighbor. Continuation of farewell.

Pairing: AU Negan x reader (female, named Eddie)

Tags: AU Negan, Negan smut, Negan x reader, rough-ish smut

A/N: no proof read. we die like men.

“Jesus fuck” you quickly shuffled inside your front door escaping the cold air outside. You had hands cupped over your mouth, blowing warm air into them. 

You’re father tossed your bag by the staircase as you turned the corner to the kitchen. 

“Ayyy she’s back!” Negan said with a mouthful of chip and guac that he preparing. 

“Hey” you waved at him before your mom swooped in to give you a tight hug. 

You embraced her, “Hi mom! Missed you.”

“You have no idea!” She replied before releasing you and holding both your cold hands. 

“Hey, Frankie this the one?” You heard a fimilar voice coming from the steps. 

It was Diana, holding the velvet green table cloth your family used every year around this time. 

She gave your hands a squeeze, before attending to Diana. 

“Yes, that’s the one” your mom answered, reaching to take it from her. 

“Diana this is Eddie, you’ve always just missed her”

“Diana is Negan’s girlfriend” your mom added. 

“Very Nice to meet you honey” she said smiling and giving you a soft handshake “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

I’m sure you have 

“Nice to meet you too” your cheeks flushed red. Luckily that could easily be explained by the weather. 

You glanced over at Negan who was sipping on his mug to cover his smirk. 

“What time is this game on?” Your dad indirectly asked Negan flipping through the channels. 

“Uh, I think 7” he responded 

“Oh, we got a good two hours then.” 

“Alright, I’m gonna go get cleaned up. I’ll be back” you announced. 

“Need help with your bag?” Your mom asked not wanting you to do a thing while you were here home. 

“Nah, I got it” 

“I’ll help you Eddie” Diana offered

“No no no it’s okay” you tried to deflect her help 

Your words had to effect as he picked up your duffle and gestured with her arm for you to go up the steps first. 

You walked up the steps, heart pumping extra hard, in sync with your steps. 

On the last step the tip of your shoe caught the edge of the step and you tripped. Your quick successive steps prevented you from falling. 

“Whoa, watch it!” Diana laughed trailing behind you, duffle over her shoulder. 

“This is my room here” you walked in first

Diana set your bag down on your bed looking around the room, at your drawings pinned to your wall. 

You began taking off your winter coat. 

“I got you” Diana snuck up behind you, helping slip your arms through the sleeves 

Feeling her close behind sent tingles from your neck to your toes. 

“Thanks” you responded while she reached in you closet to put it on a hanger. 

You shuffled through your closet looking for a clean shirt. You landed on a thick black tee. 

You stared at it momentarily and turned to Diana. 

“I’m gonna change...” you hinted that you needed some privacy  

She reached for the hanger in your hand, “So, change...”

You reluctantly gave up the article of clothing. 

It felt like an eternity reaching for the hem of your shirt before pulling it through your head and shoulders. You immediately had goosebumps, partly due to the change in temperature, partly because you were in front of Diana for the first time in months and already topless. 

In the time you undressed your upper half Diana was standing behind you again. You became aware of her presence when she pulled your hips back into hers, lightly grinding. 

She gently bit your upper trap as she nibbled towards your neck. You turned your face towards her. Once your lips met her tongue slipped into your mouth. 

It was far too short. You sighed through your nostrils as Diana removed herself from the kiss, leaving you hot and bothered. 

“Get dressed” she said handing you your un-hung shirt. She softly patted your hip before stepping out. 

Fuck. Fuck Diana. Fuck Negan. Fuck Christmas. 

You hated how they could cleverly peel back your layers until you were nothing but nerves, reacting to any stimulus, seeking pleasure. In less than 5min with them you were already pent up, release on your mind. 

I’ll be quick - no there’s not enough time, you began debating with yourself, just do it. You’re wasting time. They’ll know - no they won’t. 

Fuck it. 

You locked the door and took care of yourself. 

You headed back down right in time, as the table was now set up for dinner.  

Negan and Diana were seated together across from your parents, your father in front of Negan and your mother across Diana. You sat the head of the table. Between your mom and Diana. 

Dinner felt normal despite the secret affair. 

You updated everyone on your semester and future plans. Negan cracked jokes with your dad, you added zingers to them. Diana asked questions about you, her attempt to get to know you was executed perfectly. She knew how to work a conversation. 

Diana occasionally brushed her leg onto yours. Turning you on, you to shifted in your seat every time. Amusing her. 

“You alright honey” your mom asked, noticing your movements. 

“Uh, yeah, my back just a little locked up from the flight” 

“Maybe Diana can help you out. She’s a PT y’know” your mom offered Diane’s services. 

“No no wouldn’t want to mooch of her. I’ll be alright” you responded

“It’s no problem Eddie. I can loosen you up just say the word” she said before taking a bite of her food.

“I’ll be fine” you kindly reassured them.

Conversations on conversation led to Negan and Diana making an announcement. 

“With Eddie graduating this year, you fine folks celebrating 25 years of marriage, we want to add to the good” Negan started.

“You’re pregnant?” Your mom jumped to conclusions excited for her friends. 

“Your are outside your mind” Diana laughed chugging the remainder of her wine. 

“No not that” Negan led to the announcement, “We’re getting hitched”

“Yay!” Your mom hopped of her seat give Diana and Negan a hug, almost putting both of them into a choke hold. 

“Congrats man” Your dad shook Negan’s hand across the table and raised his glass to Diana before taking a sip

“Congratulations guys” you smiled, genuinely happy for them 

“Thanks Eddie” the couple said together 

“So what do you say Klause, plan my Bacholeor party?”

“Fuck yes” your dad grinned happy for his buddy

“Wait does this mean I’m your best man too?”

“I wouldn’t do that do you haha! My brother is, but he can’t plan for shit” 

Diane and your mom having a conversation of their own. 

“Frankie, it would mean so much if you were one of my bridesmaids?” 

“Of course” she accepted. 

“You guys decided on a date?” Your mom asked 

“We’re thinking in late May of next year”

__________

After dinner you all were scattered in the living room watching the game. 

“You said you’re studying graphic design right Eddie?” Diana asked during halftime

“That is correct”

“Do you mind if consult with you regarding invitations?”

“Yeah, no problem. Do you have some ideas in mind?” you asked

“We do. Let me get your number before I forget”

She handed you her phone.

__________

Later that night you were about to crawl into bed when your phone buzzed on your night stand. 

It was an unsaved number. Diana’s surely. 

It was 2 short clips. 

The first clip was Negan’s legs splayed on his bed, Diana between them sucking his dick. 

Good thing your volume was on the lower end because the next clip was the backside of Diana with Negan plunging in and out of her from behind. This clip was a little longer with Negan slowing down to show is entire member exit her and shoved himself back inside. 

That was the last of it. Until you saw three little dots. 

The next message was an image of Negan’s cum dripping out Diana’s entrance. 

You could feel wetness beginning to pool between your legs. 

Three little dots 

- You could’ve been here if you didn’t take care of yourself earlier 

- Goodnight sweat heart

How the fuck did they know?

__________

The next morning, once your folks left for work you barged into Negan’s back door. 

“What the fuck!” he yelled from the kitchen, “You scared the shit outta me kid!” 

“YOU what the fuck!” You were frustrated, emotionally and sexually. 

“Hahaha, didn’t enjoy the show last night?” He asked nonchalantly as he continued prepping steak in a type of sauce. 

“You can’t do that! What if I opened it in front of my parents?”

“What are you really mad at? That we sent it? Or that you weren’t invited?” 

Shit. I don’t know. You thought to yourself. 

“That’s what I thought” Negan responded to your silence.

“Well, I’m here now” your impulse taking over. You walked to him and palmed him through his black jeans. 

“Woah, Eddie...” he said softly moving his hips away from your touch, hands still in the bowl, drenched. 

“I’m— I’m cooki—“ he stopped, removed his hands from the bowl and rested his wrists against the counter as you pecked your lips over the rough fabric of his pants.

“Fuck. You really wanna do this right now?”

Your eyes staring up at him, you nodded. 

You stood up and pulled him by his waistband toward the living room, Negan tried to stop at the sink first to wash his hands but you yanked him away. 

“Ed-“

You plopped him in the couch and got between his knees. 

“Diana won’t be happy if I dirty this couch” he gestured at his sauce covered hands “she picked it out”

“Then don’t” you challenged his self-control

“And you better not touch me with those dirty hands either”

You undid his belt buckle followed by his button and zipper. Negan helped you by lifting his hips of the couch while you slid his pants to his ankles. His hands slightly in the air, careful not to stain anything.  

His semi-hard member rested against his thigh. You started at his inner knee, licking and kissing your way up. You could feel his quads tense up. Once you were a peck away from his shaft your mouth went to his other inner thigh, pressing your soft lips against his hairy skin. 

“Oh Eddie, you don’t want continue what you’re doing” he warned you. 

“Or what? You won’t fuck me again? You won’t have your wife eat me out again?” you retaliated, in hopes to get him to realize he can’t resist you either. 

You took the head of dick on your mouth. Swirling you tongue around it. 

Negan’s head leaned back, finally having enough stimulation, “agh! fuck!”

You eventually started sucking him mid-way, stopping at his tip every so often. He would frequently lift his hips trying to get more of himself in your mouth. 

“You want me to go deeper?” You popped off him and pumped him slowly. 

Negan looked at you with some rage but also desperation. 

“Yes” he said reluctantly. 

You slowly put his member entirely in your mouth. Having good control on your gag reflex. Negan taking notice. 

“Not gagging I see. Did your little whore ass get some practice this semester? How many guys did you ask to suck off? How many got to come in that pretty little mouth?”

You continued to take him all the way. Then you deep throated him and held yourself there. 

“Oh fuck, mhmm” Negan’s orgasm building. 

You slipped off him all the way. Viscous saliva linking his dick to your lips. 

You brought yourself to the brink again. Holding that position. 

“I’m close” Negan breathed out quietly “and you’re gonna swallow all of it.”

You removed yourself. 

“Actually” you said wiping your mouth “I think you can take it from here. Or I can text your wife to finish for me.”

Negan took a frustrated breath trough his nose. 

Still on your knees, hips resting on your ankles, you stared at him briefly, giving him a in a what-now-? look

He swiftly took his shirt off, staining it with his hands, but he used it as a barrier between his sauce-covered hands and your hair. 

He sloppily guided your head and mouth to his member. You didn’t expect this to take this turn, but it turned you on.

You felt the urge to gag as his dick was entirely in your mouth. You tried to control it. 

“Breathe” His words helped you control it a little longer.

A few gags slipped out as he continued to hold you in place. He began talking dirty to you. 

“Not so experienced now are we”

“Choke on it you little slut” 

“You never know your limit do you? Or do love crossing lines?”

His comments built your own arousal.

Negan was on the brink of orgasm. 

“I’m gonna cum, baby” He held your head in place while his hips began thrusting upwards.

His depth became more shallow the faster he thrusted, and you appreciated the decrease in restraint he had on your head.

On his last thrust he pushed deeply and firmly brought your head down. You felt his pubic hair brush your nose.

“ughhh!” he gritted as he came. 

“Swallow.” He ordered as his orgasm subsided 

He slowly released the pressure he had on your head, letting you come off him. Simultaneously gulping the warm liquid. 

“You swallowed it all?”

“Yes”

“Say ‘I swallowed all your cum Negan’” he firmly cupped your chin. 

“I swallowed all your come Negan” you spoke through your restricted jaw. 

“That’s a good girl” he released his grip. 

“Now go upstairs and shower. Diana will be home any minute now, and she’ll want you clean” he said before pulling his pants up and walking to the kitchen to wash his hands. 

[fatiguing-thoughts]

“How Drunk Are You?” “Yes.” - Day 7 - Embry Call x Reader

“I won’t be gone too long, babe.” Embry says, rubbing the side of my arm and kissing the top of my head. 

“I know, Em. I’ll be okay stuck with Quil and Jared for the hour. Everything will be fine.” I look up smiling at my handsome boyfriend. 

“Yeah, what’s the worst that could happen?” Jared smirks at Embry from the other side of the table.

“So many things. Way too many things. On second thought, maybe I shouldn’t leave you alone with them.” Embry chuckles nervously. 

“Oh come on, dude. You really think we’re gonna let something bad happen to her? Us? Who do you think we are?” Quil places a hand over his chest, feigning shock. 

Embry looks between the three of us before pinching the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, and tilting his head down. 

“If it wasn’t so cold out I would bring you with me, babe. But you can’t stand outside that long in this weather. You’ll turn into a popsicle.” He looks at me with a pouty face.

“I understand, Em. You have to help Seth though, he can’t leave his car stranded there. We already played a few games.” I reason with him. 

“I know, especially with his date there.” Embry reasons with himself aloud. 

“Oh my god, he’s on a date?” My eyes widen, fear instilling for the poor boy. 

“Yeah, he is. Embry go help him!” Quil yells. “Em, she’s probably freezing to death. Seth can’t just tell the poor girl that he runs a crisp one-oh-eight nine.” I laugh. 

“Okay, you’re right. I should go now, it shouldn’t be too long if it’s just a jump. An hour, tops.” He kisses my head. 

“Alright. I love you, help him out! Save the date for him.”

“I will try! I love you too.” He says before he jogs out the front door. 

“Okay, now that the sap fest is over, let’s have some fun.” Quil laughs. 

“Hey, you better watch it. You’re gonna be the same way when you imprint. I don’t wanna hear a peep out of you, Jared.” I throw a rolled up napkin at Quil before narrowing my eyes at Jared. 

Quil lets the napkin hit his head as Jared holds up his hands, offering a surrender. 

“Sorry, sorry. But I’m just saying, we gotta have fun.” Quil defends himself.

“Agreed.” Jared nods.

“Okay, well that’s fair. I just don’t know what you guys wanna do.” I shrug. 

“We could play beer pong.” Jared says, pulling the stack of red solo cups off the center of the table. 

“I mean, why not?” I shrug, standing up to get the beer that Embry brought for the game night with the guys as well as the drink I mixed myself, as I hate beer. 

Quil stacks our side of the table, as we decided it would be us vs Jared. 

“Okay let’s get this show on the road, dorks. I hope you’re ready to lose, Jared. I’ll have you know I am basically the best.” I laugh, filling the cups with water and handing everyone their own drink. 

We all came to the agreement that it would only be fair if both Quil and I drank for every shot Jared made as he was playing solo. 

Much to my dismay, I quickly learned I was on the wrong team. I talked a big game about my skills, but I barely got to use them as Jared kept sinking shot after shot, game after game. Balls back almost every turn. By the time we got to the third game I was feeling myself grow hot and beginning to sweat, losing a bit of my balance. Words slurring despite my best efforts to stop them. 

“Oh god, we’re losing her!” Quil laughs, balancing me out by reaching for my arm. 

“Okay after this game, I am done. This ju-just isn’t fair, you guys don’t get drunk.” I pout. 

Jared finished off the table, sinking his shots and ending the game, leaving me to only keep drinking. 

“Jesus, when did we start spinning?” I ask, clutching Quil's arm with one hand, placing the other on my head to stop said spinning. 

“Okay, we might have actually lost her.” Jared looks at Quil with wide eyes. 

“I’m liter-literally right here, idi-idiots.” I slur. 

“Oh no.” Quil stifles a laugh.

“No, Embry is not gonna be happy with us, Quil.” Jared walks over to me, grabbing my other arm.

“Oh, I miss Em. Where is heeeeeee?” I whine.

“Hopefully not coming back until you’re sober!” Quil smiles. 

“In our dreams.” Jared mumbles. 

“I-I’m gonna call him.” I start to look for my phone. “Or, or, or you could have a cup of coffee? Some food?” Jared offers.

“I could eat, I hate coffeeeeee though.” I raise my eyebrows in excitement. 

“Great.” Quil runs into the kitchen for a moment, before returning with some goldfish. 

“Here, eat these.” Jared takes them from Quil, handing me the bag and sitting me back down in my seat. 

“Wait, they-they’re not rainbow.” I pout.

“What? That doesn’t matter. You love goldfish!” Quil encourages.

“Yeah, butttt I want rainbow goldfishhhh.” I pout once more. 

“Jesus Christ, why are you doing this to us?” Jared asks me with a worried look. 

“Can I have water?” I ask Quil. 

He nods before running into the kitchen. 

“So like, out of curiosity. How like, drunk are you? 1-10? Where are we placing you, you gonna remember this in the morning?” Jared asks, looking into my eyes. 

“Yesssssss. I just want Embry to come back. I miss him.” I pout. 

“He will, and he’s gonna be peeved.” Quil hands me the glass of water. 

“Oh hush, I wanted to playyyy. It’llll be okayyyyy.” I promise the boys.

“Easy for you to say. He’s gonna kick our asses, not yours.” Jared smirks. 

“No, I’ll tel-tell him you helped meeee.” I smile, closing my eyes, feeling myself grow a little tired. 

“I just don’t think Embry’s gonna be thrilled.” Quil tries to reason with me.

“What won’t I be thrilled about?” Embry walks through the front door. 

His eyes look around the room, surveying his surroundings. 

The cups on the table, the empty drinks of mine, and some beer bottles the guys drank. 

“Embry?!” I shout in excitement. 

“Listen, it was an accident.” Quil tries to reason. 

“Embry, just hear us out.” Jared says. 

“How drunk are you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice.

“Yes.” I turn around and smile at him.

He walks over, the smell of alcohol invading his nostrils. Moving a piece of my hair out of my face. “Hey, babe. How’re you feeling?” He asks in a soft voice. 

“I feel good. A litt-little tired but happy becau-because you’re here.” I smile at him, grabbing his hand. 

“I’m glad you’re okay.” He smiles at me with soft eyes, before leaning his head back up and shooting daggers at Quil and Jared. “Well, she said she’s fine.” Jared says. 

“It’s Jared’s fault. He kept winning.” Quil blurts out. 

“Oh screw you. This was a group game, we are all responsible. She wanted to play.” 

“Em, don’t be mad. I wanted to play.” I smile up at him, eyes closing slowly. 

He looks down at me, letting out a tired sigh. 

“I’ll kick your asses tomorrow for this.” He looks between the two guys. 

“Actually, we’ll be busy all day tomorrow. All week, even. Rain check?” Jared jokes. 

Emrby shoots him a dagger as Quil laughs. 

Embry punches Jared in the arm, causing him to yelp out in pain. 

Quil laughs again, before Embry punches him in the arm as well, reacting the same way.

“Ouch! We took care of her. Stop being a bully.” Quil teases. 

Embry rolls his eyes at his best friends, before focusing back on me. 

“Em, I wanna sleep. Can we go home?” I look up at him.

“Of course, babe.” He picks me up from the chair, carrying me to the front door and out to the truck. 

“Thanks guys, I’ll see you soonnnnnn.” I smile back at Jared and Quil. 

“Bye, (Y/N)!” They call out in unison.

“Feel better! Don’t forget to leave yourself aspirin for the morning!” Quil chimes in. 

“I love you, Em.” I say, as he buckles my seatbelt in his truck.

“I love you, too.” He kisses my forehead. 

The drive home was a blur, as I was drifting in and out of consciousness. 

I felt strong arms lift me out of the truck and carry me into the house, bringing me into our shared bed. 

“Em?” I say as he lays me down, tucking me in. 

“Yeah?” He whispers?

“Can you cuddle with me, please?” 

“Of course, babe. I was just gonna get the aspirin and water bottle for the morning. I’ll be right back.” He leaves a sweet kiss on my forehead. 

I smile at him, waiting for him to come back, fighting my eyes from closing. 

A moment or two later, I felt the mattress dip with weight, smiling I reach my arms over to hug Embry. 

“Good night.” I whisper as he holds me in his arms. 

“Good night, (Y/N).” He pulls me in closer to his chest. 

______________________________

Word Count: 1543

[plaidbooks]

Feeling Cold

A/N: I just can’t stop writing Sonny Carisi, especially fluff. Because this man deserves fluff and happiness (okay, everyone on svu deserves that). Anyways, here’s some fluffy Sonny fluff.

To my non-American crowd, 5⁰F = -15⁰C

Tags: none (it’s implied they have sex at the end), alcohol mention (Bailey’s is an Irish cream liqueur)

Words: 2577

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush @itsjustmyfantasyroom @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy @infiniteoddball @ben-c-group-therapy @glowingmess @whimsicallymad @lv7867 @storiesofsvu @cycat4077 @shroomiehomie @alwaysachorusgirl @glimmerglittergirl @joanofarkansass @averyhotchner @redlipstickandplaid @mrsrafaelbarba @detective-giggles @crowleysqueenofhell @reading--mermaid @dreamlover31

It was one of those days where Sonny had arraignments all morning, then no court the rest of the day. Normally, he loved that; it’s not that he hated trials or courts, but he felt like it was, well, a time sinkhole. He had so much paperwork and stuff to do, and sitting at a table, listening to the defense drone on and on, made him more anxious as he thought about the stacks of files in his office. When he was up in front of the judge and jury, it was fine; he was getting things done. Any moment not actively working felt like a waste, though.

But today, he was leaving the warmth of the courthouse to half-jog through snow and 5⁰ weather. He checked his watch as he entered One Hogan Place, seeing that it was his “normal” lunch time; he was planning to take a quick lunch break, then dive into work. Plus, his lunch break meant he got to call you.

You had the day off, so he called you while in the elevator, heading up to the eighth floor. “Hey, doll. I’m done with court and just heading up to take my lunch. How’s your day?” His voice was a little unsteady, his teeth chattering. He had his normal peacoat over his suit, but he had forgotten both his scarf and gloves, and he was freezing.

“Fine…. You sound cold, Sonny. Are you outside?” you asked.

He huffed. “Not anymore—I’m just getting to the eighth floor,” he explained. The elevator doors dinged open, and Sonny let out a hiss as a blast of cold air hit him.

“What happened?” you asked, hearing his exhale.

He let out a shiver. “It’s fucking cold in the office.” Hurrying to his door, he unlocked it with numb fingers, and it was even colder inside. “The heater must be broken.”

He noticed everyone on his floor bundled in various coats and blankets, some even with personal heaters. Sonny moved behind his desk, sitting in the chair and feeling another shiver move up his spine from the cold leather.

“Would coffee help?” you tried. You had just made a huge batch of soup—for lunch and dinner tonight—and you wished Sonny could have some.

“Y-yeah…good idea.” He stood and went to his coffee maker. “Aaaand, it’s broken. Holy shit.” He clenched his jaw, feeling tears in his eyes from frustration.

“Oh god; I’m sorry Sonny. Can you leave early? Bring paperwork home to work on?”

“No—I have a meeting in two hours, and I need to be here. I-it’s fine. I can deal with this.” He grimaced, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m gonna go—eat my lunch. I’ll talk to you tonight, doll. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sonny. It’ll work out; I promise.” You hung up, thinking. Sonny sounded so upset, and you knew him—he got cold easily. The downfall of his lankiness. It was only a 10-minute drive to his office; you could easily make it before his meeting. Hell, he’d probably still be on lunch.

You ladled some soup into an insulated thermos, then pulled on Sonny’s coat—which was much too big on you. And then you pulled on a second of his coats. You stopped by the store on your way, buying literally the last space heater on the shelf, and ordering an extra-large coffee—with a tray.

You put the thermos on the tray, opposite the coffee. Tray in one hand and space heater in the other, you made your way to the eighth floor of One Hogan Place. It was freezing in the building, and you felt bad for the various workers you passed by, all bundled up.

You made it to Sonny’s office, putting the heater down to knock on his door. He called out to you, and you opened the door, stooping to grab the heater as you entered.

“D-doll?” Sonny asked, shivering. He took you in—the two coats, the tray and box. “Wh-what—?”

“I figured you needed this,” you said, smiling. He shook himself, standing and hurrying around his desk. You handed him the tray with coffee and soup, then placed the heater on the desk.

Sonny put the tray on his desk, still looking confused. “What i-i-is all this-s-s?”

“Drink some coffee—warm up. The thermos has minestrone soup,” you instructed. He didn’t need to be told twice, taking a deep gulp from the coffee cup. You shrugged off the top coat, laying it on the desk. Then, you shrugged off the second coat—the one that was insulated between your body heat and the top coat. Sonny stood stock still as you slipped his arm through one sleeve, then pulled the other one on.

“Better?” you asked, grinning at him. You pulled the other coat back on—it was cold in his office. Sonny nodded, just barely, and you turned to the desk, ripping the space heater box open.

Sonny was so stunned by your act of love; you were here to make him warm, to make him feel better. His mind was spinning—he was the one that did this for others. No one had taken care of him like this…except for his Ma when he was little. He didn’t quite know how to process it.

You finished “building” the space heater—you simply shoved the base on—then stood it by his chair and plugged it in.

“Is this a good spot?” you asked, turning to look at him. But Sonny hadn’t moved, his brow furrowed as he looked at you—no, he looked through you. “Sonny?”

He visibly shook himself. “I-I’m sorry, what?”

You gestured to the heater. “Sit in your chair as if you’re working and tell me if this is placed right.”

Sonny moved back behind his desk, pulling his coat closer around him, then sitting. “A little to the left?”

You moved the heater this way and that until Sonny announced it was perfect. Then he stood once more, coming over to you, and wrapping you in his arms. He kissed your cheek, his lips cold still.

“I love you so much. Thank you,” he muttered in your ear.

You smiled against his shoulder. “Of course, Son. I love you, too.” He held you for a long time, both of you warming from the contact. You kissed his cheek, your lips warm against his cold skin.

Eventually, you pulled back. “Text me when you’re coming home—I’ll have the heater on and a bath ready for you, okay?”

“Y-yeah, okay. Thank you again. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Freeze to death, apparently,” you teased, and he chuckled. “Now drink that coffee and that soup before they get cold. And don’t be too late tonight—it’s supposed to get colder and snow more.”

You moved to the door, and he croaked out another, “I love you.”

You paused and turned, giving him a soft smile. “I love you, too. See you tonight.”

 *********************

Sonny texted you that he was heading home. The soup was simmering, the heater was on, and you made hot chocolate. The bath, you’d wait until he was home, so that it’d be steaming hot. Still, you got a towel ready for him, and you grabbed his favorite sweats and his Fordham hoodie, throwing them in the dryer.

You heard Sonny’s footsteps in the hallway outside your shared apartment, and you went to grab a mug. The front door opened and shut as you poured some Baileys into the mug, then the hot chocolate.

“I’m home, doll,” Sonny announced, shrugging out of his two coats and suit jacket.

“In the kitchen,” you called back. You met him as he came in, handing him the hot chocolate. Sonny was shivering again, his nose and cheeks bright red.

He cupped the mug with both hands, groaning as the warmth seeped into his skin. “Th-thank you-u-u,” he breathed.

“Mhm—there’s Baileys in it, too,” you warned, and he took a grateful sip. You smiled as he made a happy sound, then took another sip. “I’ll get that bath ready, and then you can have some soup.”

You headed for the bathroom, then turned the water on. As soon as it was hot, you plugged the tub, letting it fill. Sonny joined you in the bathroom, and you swore you saw tears in his eyes.

“Are you okay, Sonny?” you asked, worried.

He nodded, blinking rapidly. “Fine; just something in my eye.”

You gave him a look before brushing it off. “Okay, well, bath’s almost full if you wanna strip.”

He placed the empty mug on the counter, then started pulling his clothes off. He was still trembling slightly, goosebumps on his skin even in the warm apartment, and you were worried he may get sick. Once undressed, you helped him into the bath. He groaned as he sunk down, letting himself slide until he was almost fully underwater. You smiled at him, leaning down to kiss the top of his head. Then, you took the empty mug, and went to refill it.

You brought a full mug back, and Sonny’s eyes were closed as he soaked. “This water feels amazing,” he moaned.

“I’m glad,” you replied, passing him the mug. “How was the rest of your day?”

“Soooo much better with that space heater. Thank you so much for that—I can’t believe you found one.”

“It was the last one on the shelf. But if they were out, then I would’ve just dropped off the coffee, soup, and coat, then gone out to find one for you.”

Sonny blinked, staring at you. “You’d do that for me?”

“Of course, I would—you’d do it for me,” you replied, chuckling in disbelief that he asked.

“Y-yeah…I would…” he trailed off, sipping his hot chocolate.

You smiled at him. “Then why is it so shocking?”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. I just…never mind.” You gave him a stern look and he sighed. “I’m just…I should be used to this by now.”

“Used to what?”

“Someone taking care of me…someone who cares….”

You softened at his words. You had been dating for a few years now, having just moved in 7 months ago. And while it’s true that Sonny went above and beyond in the relationship, you tried your best to do the same for him. The only issue was that Sonny usually brushed off your attempts, not maliciously—he just wasn’t used to it, like he said. You’d try and cook dinner after a long day, and he’d take over once home. You’d plan to have his suits dry cleaned, and he’d snag them on his way to work, picking them up on his way home. Sonny didn’t like people waiting on him; he felt like it was a bother to have someone do something he could easily do himself. Your only time to “take care of him” was while he was at work, or holding him after a long day.

“Listen to me, Sonny; a relationship shouldn’t be one person doing everything for the other. There has to be a balance. So, let me take care of you. Let me do things for you, even though you can do it yourself. I want to do things for you, okay?”

Sonny turned to look deeply into your eyes. He scanned your face for a long time before he eventually nodded, a small smile on his face. “Yeah…okay. I can do—I can try and do that.”

“That’s all I ask,” you replied. You stood, turning to leave the bathroom.

“I’ll be out in a moment—the waters getting cold,” Sonny said.

You turned back, smiling. “Okay. I’ll get your clothes ready.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you left, heading for the dryer. You pulled out his hoodie and sweats—both steaming hot. By the time you came back to the bathroom, Sonny was out of the tub, drying off. You passed him the clothes, and he smiled softly as he felt the warmth in the fabric.

As he got dressed, you went back to the kitchen, stirring the soup. Long arms wrapped around you from behind, and Sonny’s chin went to your shoulder.

You chuckled. “Feeling warmer?”

“I always feel warmer around you.”

“Awww, that’s cute. But I’m serious,” you said, turning in his arms.

He grinned at you. “Yes, I’m warm now. Thank you, doll.” He leaned down and kissed you tenderly, putting all his love and affection into it.

“Good,” you whispered against his lips. “Ready for dinner?”

Sonny gave you another kiss before pulling away, heading for the cabinet with bowls. “Starving.”

 *******************

Sonny caught you up with his day during dinner, then asked you for yours. Your day was a lot more boring, so there wasn’t much to comment on. Even so, Sonny hung on every word, as if you had traveled the world in 80 days rather than make and simmer a soup, and do some small jobs around the apartment.

Once done eating, you cleared the bowls, rinsing them out and putting them in the dish washer. Then, you went back to Sonny on the couch, throwing a blanket over him, and cuddling next to him. He chuckled, moving the blanket so that it was covering you both, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest.

“I love you so damn much,” he murmured against your head, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You chuckled. “I love you, too.”

You both sat there a moment longer, watching whatever Sonny put on TV. You could hear him humming—something he did when he was thinking hard. You were just about to ask him what he was thinking about when he whispered, barely audible, “marry me.”

You let out a surprised huff of laughter. “I think you’ve had too much Baileys.”

“I’m serious. Marry me.”

You turned to look at him, finding his eyes on you. “You’re serious?”

Sonny rolled his eyes, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. You sat up as he got off the couch and disappeared down the hallway to your room. There was some shuffling, and your heart started beating faster. He came back soon enough, a small ring box in his hand.

“Yeah, I’m serious,” he announced, dropping to one knee in front of you.

Tears sprung to your eyes as you gasped, your hand coming to your mouth. “Oh my god! Of course, I’ll marry you!” you tearfully said, hands shaking.

Seeing you cry made Sonny start crying. He sniffled loudly, blinking his eyes rapidly as he took the ring and slid it on your finger. He got up, and you pulled him right back down into your lap, holding him close and kissing him.

“Well, I guess now I have to get used to you taking care of me,” he muttered, and you laughed.

“Yeah, you do. I want to take care of you, love. You spend so much of yourself, taking care of everyone. Let me return it.”

Sonny nodded. “I will. I promise. But right now, I want to return the favor. You warmed me up, and I have an idea of how to warm you up.” He leaned in to kiss you deeply, and you gripped his hair, tugging gently. He groaned into your mouth before urging you to stand, dragging you to bed.