#i think spotify is telling us these guys need to know each other better

[lovrsm]

ɢᴏʀɢᴇᴏᴜꜱ

sum: in which your brother invites you to a party, and oh god, you're so glad you accepted.

word count: 2.4k

pairing: charles leclerc x singer!reader

warnings: drinking, curse words & insinuation of cheating.

Spotify - Apple Music

ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ - ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪ - ᴍᴇᴅɪᴀ ᴀᴜ

"you should take it as a compliment that I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk"

Monaco was such a lovely place, when my brother had told me about it I thought he was exaggerating. I mean, it wouldn't be that weird if he had, he's always excited about everything, he's the kind of guy who makes you see as if the world is made of bright rainbow colors, and I believe him.

I arrived from the airport about 2 hours ago, I was on my way to the hotel where Lando was staying, he told me he got another room for me. How could I say no?

He called me yesterday at about 3pm

"No, I'm telling you, IT WILL BE THE PARTY OF THE YEAR!" he screamed over the phone, making me laugh.

"Lando, I just came from signing with my sponsors, they expect me to write more songs in a 4 months period, you know how complicated that's going to be?" I exhaled, taking off my heels, tossing them across the room as I lay down on the couch. I was exhausted.

"C'mon, you'll have plenty of things to write songs about, look, I can already hear it!" he started to hum a catchy tone, making the corners of my mouth go up. "Lando... Jake won't be able to be there, god, I don't even know if he'll want me to be there, you know?"

I could already see him in the doorway telling me where am I.

Sure, he was on canada filming, but what if he finds out?

"I'm not even letting you say no, I'm already booking tickets, get all you need, you can even shop here if you want, I just want my sister with me tomorrow night with me"

"You better go get me at the airport Lando Norris."

"I wont let you down peanut" He chuckled and hung up on me.

Well he kinda let me down, he couldn't come get me due to some last minute meeting he had. I don't really mind, I know having a busy life is exhausting.

I thanked the taxi driver giving his a generous tip, my bodyguard helped me get out my suitcases, I had a hoodie and black sunglasses, he had a casual outfit so we wouldn't stand out.

For being a top artist in the whole world, I did not like having that much security. But it was an obligation, not an option, I had to stick to what my manager and team asks me to do.

_

After a busy day of shopping and walking around the streets, I could barely feel my feet. I had gotten a beautiful short red dress. Perfect fit for the occasion. It was just 7p.m. and Lando had texted me he was on his way to my dorm.

The door opened to reveal my very festive brother in the other side "You're here!" "I'm here!" I screamed back jumping into his arms.

We catched up, he was telling me about how he checked the track, for the next season, since we were in December. Although I never really understood racing, when we were kids our parents would take us out to the karts, and I'd always crash while he was beating all of us who tried to play.

He focused on sports and I focused on music, since I was 12 years old I learned to play the guitar. My mom used to tell me that I was a genius at writing songs, I guess many people think the same.

Time passed by too fast, with him I felt like an hour were just 5 minutes.

After hating each other all our childhood, we became closer than ever after my career and his took off. I think it was because we were twins, we hated it when people said we acted the same, because physically we are not alike at all. I am so much prettier, obviously.

it was already 8 o'clock "I'm leaving, I should get ready, do you wanna come with me?"

"I'd stopped talking to you if you let me get there alone, I know none of these guys Lando."

"I'm sure you'll know somebody miss famous." He bumped my shoulder and left my room, entering to his which was next door.

I took my time getting ready. God, I love being a woman. I took a bath, fixed my hair, put on my make-up and finally there was the dress, hanging on the bathroom door. I think it is one of the most beautiful dresses I have ever seen in my life.

How did I manage to put on the mini dress correctly by myself? I don't even know, but I couldn't stop looking at myself in the mirror. God if only someone could look at me.

Oh wait! There is someone, I grabbed my phone to click his name, my phone started to ring. I waited patiently, but he did not answer. So I called him once more, this time he did answer.

I heard loud music and singing in the back. "What do you need?" he asked, I could hear the irritation in his voice. "I wanted to hear from you, we haven't talked-"

"We talked last Monday, wasn't that enough? I'm busy." He interrupted me.

"Where are you?" I asked intrigued this time.

"Uhm... I'm in the bar with some friends"

"Oh and that's just more important than your girlfriend?" I raised my voice at him, I was now sitting the edge on the bed.

"Look, I don't want to fight, just call me later." He said, basically hanging the phone. "Jake..." I said before he could do so.

"What?" He sounded desperate. "Take care." I said.

"Ok" He hung. I felt disgusted, why? not idea, I just felt dirty, as if I was forcing him to talk to me. I took some deep breathes so I could calm my nerves down.

I don't even want to go out anymore.

I tried hard not to cry, I wasn't going to ruin my makeup over some small argument, I'm sure tomorrow we'll be alright, we always end up alright.

It felt as an eternity till I heard a knock on my door, I quickly grabbed my bag, looked in the mirror once more to fix my dark wavy hair, and rushed to the door. I opened it, in the side was Lando, his back on the wall while he was looking at his phone.

He turned it off and looked at me, I smiled "Ready to go Peanut?"

"Lets go"

_

We finally got to the club, electronic music was blasting off, people were already drunk, and boy they didn't even tried to hide it.

We had to basically run to the VIP area, I didn't said anything to my bodyguard about this, besides, he can use a break.

Lando was immediately greeted by everyone who was in the room. "LANDO!" A man screamed to him "Ayee, we're here!" He said hugging the man, and patting him in the back. "you're so late, you were the only ones missing!"

"we're here Pierre, I'd like to present to you all my sister!" He hugged me by the side and I waved with a smile on my face. It seemed that most of them recognized me, because some of them just stood there in shock "Hey everyone, ready to get wasted?" I laughed, that made them less tense and cheered, lifting their cups.

Lando gave a me a sweet kiss in my head, "see, you'll be fine, have some fun peanut!" I let go and we both went our own way.

I started to talk to a girl, her name is Kika, I learnt she was the girlfriend of a guy named Pierre Gasly. I've heard about him but no one ever told me how fun his girlfriend was!

"Girl, you should try this margarita, the most wholesome thing you'll have in your life!"

She was not kidding with that. In a few minutes, I had asked for... about 5 of them, or maybe just 13.

I had talked to everyone in the room by 10 pm, they were all so fun, and the energy was of another planet.

"Yeah, and then Max would make that grumpy face. I swear he looks like and old man!"

"very mature Lando, so mature." I bursted out laughing. "LECLERC HAS ARRIVED!" I heard someone scream in the entrance, and in seconds half of the group was there greeting the guy.

I decided I was going to take something else than a margarita. I walked up to the bartender, who definitely did not understood me. I don't know if I was speaking too softly or if I was just way too drunk to talk, but I decided to leave, I turned around and bumped into someone.

I was about to loose my balance till his arms were wrapped around my waist, I was able to stand straight. "are you alright?" he asked.

I looked into his eyes, green eyes "what?"was all I could manage. "Are you alright?" He asked again, I now noticed a thick accent, I bursted out laughing for that.

He looked so confused, he let go and chuckled with me. For a second it was as if the whole club was quiet. I looked again at him, and I immediately looked down at the floor. He grabbed my hand, the lights went out for a second and my world spun. My legs were about to give up.

His touch was... it was, god I can't even say it.

"I'm Charles, what's your name?"

I bit my lip, what went out of my mouth was definitely not what I wanted to say. "Do you always talk like that?" I asked a bit to seriously, I chuckled so that I wasn't that rude.

"Yeah, my first language isn't english."

"Huh." I said, I felt as if he had a goddamn magnetic field and it was pulling me towards him, I couldn't stand it.

I ran off to the other side of the room, leaving him standing alone next to the bar.

_

All night.

All night I couldn't stop thinking about him, his hand touching my hand in the darkened room...

and I made fun of the way he talked.

I'm never drinking again.

Yet there I was, in the bar once more, asking for whiskey. Mature, so mature.

I kept bouncing back and forth between the people there, once I saw Charles walking to my way, I would ran to the other side of the room.

I have a boyfriend for gods sake! I can't be thinking these unhealthy things about him.

But, I mean, can you blame me?

Look at him.

His first two buttons were unbottened which made him look so attractive. And you should see his dimples, he's so gorgeous it actually fucking hurts!

"So you're not going to talk to me?" I heard a voice behind my ear. His chest touching my back. I didn't move, but I did answer.

"Who said I wasn't going to?" I asked playfully, with a grin on my face, knowing he couldn’t see me.

He hummed in my ear, before he turned me to look him in the eye, he grabbed my neck, but he didn't kiss me. Instead, he brought his lips back to my ear.

"Then why do you keep running, huh?" His hot breath sent a shiver down my spine. I was dumbfolded by his actions, he took a step back to look at me.

I looked into his eyes, I was absolutely taking him in. I looked at his dimples because of the grin he had in his face. His eyebrows, his slightly sweaty hair, with pieces of it falling into his face.

I couldn't help myself, I noticed how he looked into my eyes, and then to my mouth.

What if..?

I asked to myself, I closed my eyes and got closer to him, waiting for a kiss. But he grabbed me by my hips pulling me back.

"You're far too drunk, ma chou" I heard and opened my eyes, he gave me a sympathetic smile. I felt dumb for a second, but after seeing his face... I think I might be falling.

"Why don't we leave, would you like that?" I hugged him, my head in his neck. I nodded as fast as I could. He grabbed me and in a second, we were in his car.

For sure the alcohol got to my head that night.

_

Taglist

[2soulscollide]

10 underrated tips to become a better writer

hello hello, it's me again!

today i want to share some tips to improve your writing!

1. write in a different style

sometimes it's important to step out of our comfort zone, especially when it comes to writing. the next time you sit down to write for a bit, try to do something different from usual... try poetry if you always write prose; try fantasy if your thing is mystery; try adventure if you only write romance. it's up to you, just do it! who knows if you discover a new passion while trying this exercise...

2. write from a different point of view

i know it can be tempting to always write from a certain point of view, or to always use the same narrator voice, but (like on the first topic) sometimes change is needed to improve. you'll see things from another perspective, and maybe you can have a brilliant idea!

3. write with music

this one is one of my favorites! i love music, my spotify is full of playlists, one for each mood. try to create different playlists for your stories, and pick songs that motivate you, or that make you feel like you're one of the characters of your novel. this will not only give you a boost to write but also make you feel inspired.

4. set a timer

i always do this! it's a life changer. i started doing the pomodoro method to study and realized how effective it is. it's the same when it comes to writing: set about thirty minutes to write (it's up to you, depending on for how long you can be productive) and ten to fifteen minutes to relax. you'll see how much more work you can do with this method!

5. use prompts

you know how much i love prompts! i think they're so useful and help us so much to become more creative. they are a great way to step out of our comfort zone and develop someone else's idea in a span of a few minutes or hours.

oh, and if you're feeling adventurous, try this month's writing challenge!

6. write in a different place

guys! change your writing environment sometimes, especially when you're feeling overwhelmed or drained. i know it can be tempting to always sit on your sofa / bed / favorite chair, but sometimes we get so accustomed to the same place, that our creativity slows down, as well as our motivation. try to go outside to a park or a café, it can be so fun and you'll feel like the main character. or maybe, if you don't want to be in public, try another room in your house! just make sure you feel comfortable and don't have distractions around you.

7. change your writing support

do you always write on your computer? try to disconnect for a while, grab a pen and a paper, and let your imagination flow. it can be so freeing to write by hand sometimes, especially when you're plotting a novel! how cool it is to draw a scheme to connect all the characters and locations, and to doodle...!

8. find a writing buddy

personally, i don't have one, but i know it can be such a fun way to keep you motivated and to keep yourself (and the other person) accountable. it's great to have someone to share your ideas with, to give and receive feedback, and to lift you up to write when you don't like doing so.

9. write yourself a letter

trust me, it's amazing. it can be to your present self, past, or future, it's up to you. tell yourself what your writing goals are, what you are writing, how you see yourself in the future, what you're satisfied with your writing style, etc. just let it flow and re-read it whenever you feel unmotivated.

10. write with a sense of humor

i know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but it can be so fun sometimes. try something less serious when you don't feel like writing. try to come up with a joke mid-dialogue, write a fun scene or re-write a serious scene in a less serious way. this exercise can be great to see things from another perspective, to try a different style, or to lift up your mood.

i hope this was useful! have a nice day!

[hauntedhokage]

PART 04: Date Night

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

SUMMARY: Date night provides some information you weren’t expecting to hear, but you’re not mad about it.

WARNINGS: non descriptive sex, voyeurism (kinda), masturbation

[series masterlist] | {ao3} | [tumblr masterlist] | {ko-fi} | [spotify playlist]

“That interview was good, given the circumstances.” Eijirou compliments as he drives to his chosen date location, and you smile as you look over at him. “Did you know you were interviewing him today?”

“No, Ayame was supposed to but she was sick today so they had me fill in. Dropped the question about his dating life.”

“That’s appreciated.”

“You really thought it was good, though?”

“Of course! You’re wonderful at what you do, the fact that he got more comfortable over time speaks to that easy. What was that question at the end though?”

“I dunno, he said it wasn’t a dig at me for dating you but he didn’t exactly answer my question when I asked what that was about.”

“You two talked after?”

“More like yelled, really. I told him he was fucked for wanting to be friends with me just to make your life easy, he said that wasn’t it, but we didn’t get to continue yelling at each other. He didn’t talk to you?”

“Not about that incident. I told him the interview was good despite him being a robot at the beginning, but that’s about it.”

That was weird. Those two texted all day, in your experience, and Bakugou wasn’t going to tell Eijirou that you yelled at him? Did Bakugou tell him anything when you were involved? Why wouldn’t he? Was he doing the same thing that you did, not wanting to cause a rift in his boyfriend’s other relationship so he kept whatever was bothering him to himself? That didn’t make you feel too good, all things considered. You both sucked at this sharing thing. 

“Hey Eiji?” you ask softly, watching as he parks the car at the arcade. You wait until he looks over at you, his smile falling into a soft frown when he sees the look on your face. “Do you think I hurt his feelings? By yelling at him and, I guess, ignoring him this morning.” 

The question makes him sigh, and he’s unbuckling his seatbelt so he could turn to look at you better. The hand that cups your cheek is warm, surprisingly soft, and brings a lot of comfort when his thumb carefully strokes your cheek. 

“I think you guys are speaking different languages, so every conversation ends in miscommunication - and now yelling. Bakugou is just- he’s something…unique. His mother’s child, a hundred percent, but for the longest time he didn’t think he needed anyone so he didn’t let anyone in. I had to force myself in to figure out how he thinks, which is fine at sixteen but now he’s a grown ass man and he’s got to learn to open up. All that to say, no, I don’t think you hurt his feelings nor do I think you need to apologize to him.”

“But us not talking isn’t really fair to you.”

“You guys are civil and not fighting over me, so it’s not a huge deal. I’m not sweatin’ it right now, because I trust it’ll work itself out between you two.” That statement has you confused, feeling like he knew something you didn’t, but that was a given considering you were talking about Bakugou. “Personally, I think he just likes you and doesn’t know how to handle that.”

“Likes me?” He could barely look at you most days over the last ten months, how the hell could he like you?

“Like he likes me. Feelings just aren’t his forte, neither are friends. Trust me when I say all of the friendships he has were forced on him and he realized he liked having people he could rely on. Works too hard to be strong, real macho.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Baby you’re the most gorgeous girl in the world, I’m not surprised. And it’s Bakugou, I trust him with my life and I’d trust him with yours if it came to that. You need to be okay with it though and trust that you’re allowed to say that you’re not interested in him like that.”

You didn’t hate the idea, everything you’d heard about the blonde painted him to be a reliable and caring man once you got into his circle. Plus he was very attractive, which didn’t hurt anything either. But if you couldn’t talk to Bakugou then it just wouldn’t happen. That seemed like the natural approach. He needed to get over himself and you needed to try to be friends before friends-that-kiss could become an option.

“I’m not against it. But he has to talk to me and not make me feel like shit when he does, and who knows when that’ll happen.” He’s laughing at that, using his hands to fix the collar of your blouse as he leans in to kiss you. “Thank you Eiji.”

“My job is to make my lady feel better. Now let’s go have some fun, it’s date night!”

You stay put when he gets out of the car, knowing that he liked opening the door and helping you out of it. He keeps your hand in his until he has to let go to fish his wallet out of his pocket to pay for game credits, but then you’re tucked into his side as he leads you to the game he knew you liked the most. 

His apartment was closer to the arcade, and Bakugou was supposed to be on a night patrol, which was why you had no issue with Eijirou taking the left turn instead of the right to get you into a bed that night. The mood definitely struck in the arcade, watching him come close to breaking the strength tester without even needing to put real effort into it had you handsy and he definitely was basking in the increased attention. Release was desperately needed after the way he made sure to push himself against you just right to “help” you in your quest for the perfect plushie out of the crane game, and the additional friction from being on his lap in the photo booth (with your plushie hiding the way his hand was between your thighs and fingers teased your core through your jeans).

You tell him that he’ll have to make sure to tidy up as he pushes you through the front door, his response a mumbled “yeah, sure” before his mouth is on yours and his fingers are carefully working the buttons of your blouse to get the shirt off. Your bra follows quickly after, your hands more concerned with holding onto him than getting him undressed as he picks you up to carry you back to his bedroom. His shirt is off seconds after your back hits the bed, and his jeans follow while you work on the button of your own jeans. 

“You don’t work tomorrow, right?” You only shake your head, starting to push your jeans down and bridging your hips when his hands take over to pull your underwear down with the denim. “Me neither. Thinking we can fuck all night, and then I’ll make you some good breakfast, run a nice bath, then we can fuck again, order lunch with a sweet dessert, eat that dessert erotically, fuck some more, and then maybe go out to dinner, and try to do the whole thing over again.”

He’s proud of his plan, even more so when you tell him that you think it’s a great plan, and the eager grin that stretches across his face warns you of a very long night. 

As if you’d want it any other way. 

Katsuki knew it was date night for Eijirou, but he’d expected the night to end at his girlfriend’s apartment rather than theirs. Usually they always ended up at her apartment since he was often home on date night, and she…didn’t  want to be around him. Or felt like he didn’t want her around? Eijirou had been vague in their last conversation so he wasn’t sure exactly what the problem was aside from himself. 

So imagine his surprise to open the door and be greeted first by the sight of shoes haphazardly left by the doorway, a familiar blouse on the floor, then the sound of obvious bed rocking coming from Eijirou’s bedroom. 

He had ended patrol early, they likely would’ve been done and mess cleaned up before he got home if he’d just stuck to his plan of staying out all night venting his anger on walls in alleyways and screaming loudly while fighting criminals. But the night was quiet and he’d rather be in his bed than kicking at the sidewalk so he didn’t see the harm in turning in early. Now he’s regretting it as he’s quietly moving through the apartment, heading immediately for the single bathroom in the apartment - they wouldn’t hear the shower over themselves anyways. He knew firsthand how loud Eijirou could be, he wasn’t hearing shit outside that bedroom.

The downside was that he could still hear them over the shower, they were that loud. 

He’s now much more appreciative of how often Eijirou was at her apartment, knowing the man’s sex drive, but he’s also now painfully hard and wanting to ram his head into the shower wall repeatedly over it. He wishes he could say the boner was just because of his boyfriend, and being turned on by the sound of his boyfriend’s pleasure. But no, it’s not that. He knows it’s not because the first thing he thought of when he’d first heard the sweet moaning of the reporter that was likely under his boyfriend was how nice it must be to be the man bringing her that level of pleasure. To have her saying his name and begging him for more, 

He wanted to fuck his boyfriend’s girlfriend, and his hand moves on its own accord to alleviate the ache between his legs. The faster this was done, the better, considering he wasn’t sure how long he’d have the cover of Eijirou’s excessive volume to hide his appearance in the apartment and activity in the shower. He’s trying to think of Eijirou, just like any other time he’s jacked off, but he can’t and it’s so frustrating. He shouldn’t be thinking of her, not when he knew that she thought he hated her. Not when she wasn’t his to fantasize about, and probably would never be. But instead all he can think about is her. If their shared boyfriend comes into thought it’s in addition to the little reporter and how she must sound saying his name while he fucked her and Eijirou watched - maybe helped - but mostly watched. 

How fucking irritating that Eijirou was right. 

And as he paints the shower wall with his cum, Katsuki can only sigh as he fights the urge to punch the wall. He shouldn’t have done that, and he was going to have to say something about it. He shouldn’t - couldn’t - keep that piece of information from Eijirou. That wouldn’t be fair. 

But he also needed to get out of the shower. 

Once the sweat and guilt have been scrubbed from his skin, he takes the time to pick up the garments that were left scattered across the living room; putting her shoes and Eijirou’s into their proper places, then going to her blouse. The button falls out of the chest pocket and hits the hardwood flooring with a soft clink, bringing his attention to the pearl object and the earlier offer he made to fix it for her. And that’s when he makes a decision, tossing her bra into Eijirou’s hamper in the bathroom before he pulls out his small sewing kit and settles on his bed with the blouse in his lap and the needle threaded. 

Replacing buttons was easy, and chances were she wouldn’t even remember that the button had been ripped off at work while she had been trying not to stare him down. He’s glad to see the silky fabric hadn’t seen any other damage, since she did look really lovely in it, but in his close inspection caught a whiff of her perfume and Eijirou’s cologne lingering on the garment. He wouldn’t have thought that her chosen sweet scents would pair well with the earthy scents Eijirou favored, but here he was almost enraptured by how comforting they smelled together. 

He’s familiar with the feeling in his chest, but it doesn’t feel right to him. He’d only given her reasons to hate him, it didn’t feel right for him to feel this way. And when he pricks his finger for the fifth time because he was distracted, he has to lean over to bite into his pillow to keep the scream of frustration as muffled as he could.

[waitingtobelit]

Title: In Midnights, In Cups of Coffee Characters/Pairings: Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard Rating: Teen for language. Genre: Angst, fluff, queer themes. Summary: Movie nights are mostly held at Tommy’s place for several reasons.

Mostly, though, Buck gravitates towards Tommy’s house more and more these days because Tommy’s house feels more like home. He loves cuddling with Tommy on the couch, the two of them sharing a couple of beers and some popcorn, and sometimes a blanket thrown over them. Honestly? Movie nights with Tommy might be Buck’s favorite place in the world.

--

Buck and Tommy watch Rent together and have a lot of feelings about it and each other.

Notes: Title comes from "Seasons of Love" from Rent.

This was written for bucktommy positivity week, prompt one: what they love most about each other and after I got inspired by listening to "Seasons of Love" and getting caught up in my Rent feelings! This could probably technically also apply to the hobbies and dates prompt but I have another fic I'm working on for that one. :3

There are spoilers for Rent overall and implied death of a character from Rent but nothing explicit.

For @bucktommypositivityweek prompt one: What they love most about each other.

In Midnights, In Cups of Coffee

Buck’s never been totally into musicals but he also hasn’t totally disliked them, either. Maddie used to play some Broadway soundtracks when she would drive him to school; she was really into Phantom of the Opera and something about some guy stealing a loaf of bread and miserable people, from what he remembers. He might have given her some good old fashioned Brotherly Teasing about her taste in music every now and then but he always preferred her taste in music to that of his parents, the most stale white bread of WASP easy listening that he’s fairly certain they play on an endless loop on Spotify in Hell. If Hell exists, that is.

There were other musicals, too; he memorized the lyrics to “Defying Gravity” unintentionally with how often Maddie played the Wicked soundtrack in the car. He may or may not have sometimes mumbled the lyrics to himself in the shower when he needed a moment to stop thinking about the weight of his parents looking right through him.

But overall, yeah, no. Buck’s never considered himself much of a musical person. Hen is the one who tells him about Rent after a particularly long and draining shift. She tells him that she thinks he’ll like it, and that he better text her immediately with all of his feelings after he watches the movie or listens to the soundtrack. (Hen insists he does both, and she also insists that he watch the live concert special that played on TV. But, also, he damn well better text her once he educates himself!)

So tonight, for movie night with Tommy, Buck suggests Rent as their movie of choice. Usually he’s happy to go along with whichever movie Tommy suggests, glad to continue his “cinematic education” as Tommy calls it. Tommy seems happy to go along with Buck’s suggestion; he nods and comments on how he always meant to get around to watching Rent himself but struggled and ultimately set it aside for later while he was still fighting his way out of the closet. (And this is one of Buck’s favorite things about Tommy; he’ll reveal himself through conversation, letting Buck get to know him on a deeper, more intimate level, without any expectation or pressure for Buck to reciprocate, although, of course, Buck always tries to do so, wanting to meet Tommy where he is.)

Movie nights are mostly held at Tommy’s place for several reasons: Tommy has the larger, more comfortable couch (Buck could seriously live in those cushions for days, if not years, and has fallen asleep easily in the middle of a movie on more than one occasion), Tommy has the actual collection of movies, both physical and otherwise, and Tommy has the better television. Mostly, though, Buck gravitates towards Tommy’s house more and more these days because Tommy’s house feels more like home. He loves cuddling with Tommy on the couch, the two of them sharing a couple of beers and some popcorn, and sometimes a blanket thrown over them. Honestly? Movie nights with Tommy might be Buck’s favorite place in the world.

Tonight, they have Tommy’s favorite craft beer, a local brewery that specializes in utilizing local ingredients and combining them into unique flavors that even Buck has to admit taste pretty damn amazing. Tommy is slowly but surely is weaning him off of his “frat boy” beers, talking about the benefits of craft beer every chance he gets. His enthusiasm for craft beer in the way he talks about ingredients with his hands and the way he shares all of the details about the history of all his favorite brands is as convincing as the taste of the beer itself, honestly. And Buck adores Tommy for it, so the fact that they have his favorite craft beer for a movie night in which Buck picks the movie? Means the world to Buck. And judging from the way Tommy’s eyes, so blue and so mesmerizing, linger on him, his face scrunched up in a smile? Buck likes to believe he isn’t the only one.

Buck cooks fried mac and cheese rolls for their movie snack; seeing his cooking efforts next to Tommy’s beer warms him like he’s just spent the day out in the August sun, trying to catch some waves with salt water clinging to his skin. He can’t keep from smiling at the sight; the way both the food and the drinks spell out home without words.

Tommy turns to him, leaning in close to press a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. “I think we’re in for our best movie night yet,” he says, looking like a Botticelli angel in the glow of the lamps on his side tables, his hair curly and free of product and his perfect mouth wide in a soft, tender smile. And he’s all Buck’s; Buck gets to have him all to himself. He leans in for another kiss, just because.

“I think you’re right,” Buck tells him, pulling back to settle into the couch. Tommy grabs his hand, intertwining their fingers together, as he settles himself and presses play on the movie.

Buck has chills from the opening scene and the opening song; a brightness like hope unfurls within his soul, fluttering upwards with each lyric sung and the beginning of the story unfolding. Just from the words alone, he feels seen. Tommy’s hand squeezes his; out of the corner of his eyes, he catches sight of the same kind of brightness in Tommy’s eyes.

Rent unfolds like a kaleidoscope; vivacious and full of soul, a cry of defiance and a love story – an utter act of the opposite of war. Buck finds himself unable to look away, greedily drinking in every song and every scene as though this story and these characters are the gold turning the cracks in his soul into art. He leans his head onto Tommy’s shoulder, wanting to soak up all of this with the man he loves. Tommy leans his head against Buck’s; Buck feels Tommy’s smile pressing into the side of his head the same way Mimi asks Roger to light her candle and the same way Angel and Collins promise to cover each other.

Buck sees himself in Maureen; he sees himself in Mimi. He seems himself in Roger and Mark, and he sees himself in Angel and Collins. He feels seen; free. This is community; this is love. You don’t find it son; you make it.

By the time “I’ll Cover You (Reprise)” comes around, Buck is a complete wreck; tears falling like heavy rain down his face as he shakes, the hand that isn’t clinging desperately to Tommy’s pressing against his own face as though he might be able to press his grief back into himself and swallow it down. Tommy’s tears land on his shirt just as his own land on Tommy’s. He holds onto Angel, Collins, and their love for one another the way he holds onto Tommy’s hands.

By the time the movie ends and the credits roll, Buck feels both hollowed out and also renewed; the glass half-empty but also half-full. His whole face feels raw; hell, his whole soul feels raw. He feels alive but also like he’s just risen from the dead after having his heart torn to shreds.

Silence lingers between them, charged and crackling, like embers about to turn even more incendiary. Buck is about to make an attempt to speak when Tommy speaks first.

“I can’t believe it took me so long to watch Rent,” Tommy admits, pulling back to meet Buck’s gaze directly. “I feel like I really could have used that movie when I was younger.” He speaks into words the exact feelings Buck finds himself wrestling with internally; he can’t help but turn to glance up at Tommy, agreement shining in his tear-stained eyes and equally tear-stained smile. He feels like a complete mess but Tommy, pressing a kiss into the top of his head, likes him anyway. He’s the luckiest man in the whole goddamned world.

“Yeah,” he says, nodding. “I think I could have used that movie when I was younger, too.” Maybe he would have understood his bisexuality sooner; maybe he would’ve only felt a spark leading to a fireworks revelation (or fake mouth static by way of helicopter rescue) later on in life. But he wonders how his life would have turned out if his younger self learned that family can be people you choose; that creation is so much more potent than self-destruction. He wonders if maybe he could have saved himself some trouble and a few scars along the way.

Tommy squeezes Buck’s hand before bringing it up to his mouth to press a kiss against the back of it; Buck shivers in response. Tommy leans in and kisses him softly; Buck returns the kiss with a quiet gasp of relief. Tommy comforts him, sturdy and warm like a weighted blanket. (Also, he realizes, he owes Hen at least two rounds of wine and beer and a college essay worth of texts summing all of his big damn feelings about Rent.)

“Thank you for suggesting Rent for movie night,” Tommy tells him, earnest and soft. “Can I pay you back in a thousand sweet kisses?”

Buck laughs, tilting forward to press his forehead against Tommy’s. He squeezes their hands together again.

“Only if I can pay you back in five hundred twenty-five thousand and six hundred kisses myself.”

[backagainpodcast]

Hello! I absolutely love BABA, it is everything I need in a comfort media, especially during exam season. Do you have any advice for people looking into writing podcasts? Like audio editing programs or writing tips or anything else that's come up in your process? If you do, thanks so much! But regardless, I adore this podcast and I hope you're having a wonderful day!

hello! thank you so much for listening, and I really really hope your exams go well <<33

My writing advice is the kind that I feel like deserves to get me shook, but it's the truest I know --- write a lot, write every day or as often as you can manage it, write like it is the thing that you must do to keep you alive. Write like it's at the top of your to-do list, write knowing that as long as you write something that day, whatever else happens, it can be enough. Choose a word count and try to reach it every day. Choose a duration of time and make sure you set it aside. Just --- write. Note the things that are important to you and mean the most to you, and you'll never run out of ways to talk about them.

When I am drafting, I aim for 500 words a day (but please god find what works for you don't take this as anything other than an example.) Sometimes I kick and scream to that point and don't go any further. Oftentimes, after 500, the words are loose enough that I can keep going. Stack 'em up. The more you have, the less each one matters. The longer you get into the habit of hitting a word count, the easier it is to do!!

From the podcasting side of things, I have no idea what I'm doing, ever, which means that I am NOT the best person to get good advice from, but I CAN tell you how to duct-tape a podcast together. My tips---

Take the time to learn how to use Audacity (or whatever audio editing software you'd like -- audacity is just FREE, we LOVE) get yourself a mic that fits in your budget (my blue yeti has been going solid for years and years and has survived several moves!), and get talkin'.

Likewise, take your time editing. Get a sense of how much you can reasonably do between episodes, and don't overwork yourself. It's better to have a consistent schedule for releases than a sporadic one, even if that means episodes are farther apart :) BABA comes out twice a month and I could not consistently do any more without losing my mind. Maybe that's not the case for you, but figure it out!!

Uh --- I use Anchor, which is now "Spotify for Podcasters," because, again, it's free. Freemusicarchive.org is where BABA's theme music (Nightingales by Pierce Murphy) comes from, and just do some googling about what each attribution right means so you're respecting people's wishes.

I also cannot recommend enough writing the whole season before you start recording. Editing and recording and editing episodes is enough every two weeks -- I couldn't imagine also having to write the episode on top of that :')

(But again -- maybe you're different!! Maybe it's no problem for you! The biggest thing is figuring out how you can stretch and how you cannot and adapting.)

But I think the biggest thing is having a story that you want to tell and that excites you, if no one else. It's going to be a lot of talking to yourself in empty rooms and listening to yourself through headphones and the only way to get through is to love something about it :')

I finally must encourage you to take all of this with a grain of salt, as I'm just Some Guy with no real qualifications except that I snuck in the back door and no one kicked me out fast enough. But that is the glorious thing about audio drama!!! Anyone can make anything!!!

Good luck, good luck, and always reach back out if there's something more substantial I can help you with :)

Very best, always,

Abigail <3

[catmaidetho]

assigning my favorite guys crane wives songs

aka, in honor of the crane wives being my #1 artist on spotify this year, have some insanity. this list is loosely based on the life series, but each song aims to encapsulate a character as entirely as possible w/o focusing too hard on any specific event. i'll also say that i actively tried to choose songs that i haven't seen us as a community talk about that much.

Etho - Volta volta is a song about making the conscious decision to be present in your life, taking back control. etho is someone who constantly jumps from thing to thing, never really staying put, and i personally interpret volta as not just consciously taking back control of your life, but also making the decision to settle into something. it is about fighting your nature of running away and choosing to stay. i will admit that this song is about vibes more than lyrical content. still, have some lyrics

"Do you remember being young and eager? My heart was buzzing like a wire Give me a reason to connect, be nearer"

Bdubs - Little Soldiers ON THE BROKEN BACKS OF ALL THE WORDS WE SPARED, LIKE LITTLE SOLDIERS IN THE TRENCHES. IT WAS A MARCH WE MADE TOWARDS RUIN AND DESPAIR BUT WE HELD HANDS ALL THE WHILE. I SWEAR THAT I LOVED YOU. I SWEAR THAT I LOVED YOU. I SWEAR THAT I LOVED YOU---I SWEAR, I SWEAR!!!!

LOOK ME IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THAT DOES NOT FUCKING SCREAM BDUBS. HE LOVES ME. I FOUGHT TOOTH AND NAIL BEFORE THE FLAG HAD FLOWN BUT YOU WERE ALREADY GONE!!!!!!

sorry little soldiers is one of my favorite crane wives songs. two people tied together with barbed wire, knowing that what they're in isn't good but refusing to let go out of a desperate attempt to cling onto love. tell me that isnt ethubs, especially the way we as a fandom dramatize them.

Cleo - High Horse high horse is a song about being a petty, spiteful motherfucker. it is about looking at someone you hold dear who has hurt you, and saying, "you know what? i won't stand for this" and throwing them under the bus.

"I'm done thinking about it You're never gonna get what you want So why feel guilty about it?"

Grian - How to Rest listen. look me in the eyes. i know we all like to pretend, especially in regards to scarian and the desert and double life, that grian did not/does not love scar. that the love, that the friendship, that the real connection they shared was not there because it makes for some juicy angst. look me in the eyes and tell me that grian being outright cruel towards scar is somehow more interesting than grian pretending he does not love scar, when in reality he does. tell me that blatant angst for angst's sake is more interesting than grian looking out for scar, not because of an obligation, but because scar is his friend and his ally and maybe sometimes people just chose to be around each other.

"Here's the truest thing I've ever known The heart is just a muscle with a rhythm all its own It doesn't stop when you decide not to move on The heart knows nothing of your love or of your loss"

Joel - The Wolf oh joel wants SO BAD to be a threat. he wants so badly for people to fear him, to take him seriously, to be the bad guy. however, his attempts at this often fall short, usually due to his own brazen overconfidence and snappy, petty nature. all of this, of course, pushes anyone who he hasn't latched onto away because who would want to align themselves with someone who wants so badly to be a loose canon?

"Can it be Can it be easy for once Cause I’m no good at being kind to myself Or anyone [...] I am a beast at your back You better run for your life"

Jimmy - New Colors i am by no means a jimmy expert, but this song is just so jimmy to me. he is so desperate to do well. new colors is a song about desperation. he is so desperate to be taken seriously, in a similar way to joel, but the difference is nobody ever does. i'm just going to leave you with these lyrics.

"Don't tell me that I can't Oh Lord, don't tell me that I can't I need this so damn bad"

"I give up my sight To see I give up my air To breathe"

Scar - Down The River i'm gonna admit, i really struggled to find one for scar, but i think this one works. scar doesn't put much stock into past grievances if it isn't convenient for him, he will simply move on and pretend he didn't do anything. this is ESPECIALLY relevant in moving between series---all bridges are burned, and must be rebuilt.

"Now, tell me, when you start again Where will you house your skeletons? Or will they stay behind Your settlement in kind?"

this post is getting kind of long, and im gonna admit im not confident enough in my characterization of the rest of the cast to assign them a song, so i'll leave this here for now :)

[g0sts]

hit with tha "get to know me" tag game i love u guys! i was tagged by both @phasmama and @memosminifridge! im debby emoji fr, sorry it took me so long to get to it!

fave ships: well i apparently gravitate towards whatever the unifying thread of nandermo and jonmartin is (EDIT i fucking forgot about sted aka blackbonnet-but-i-think-im-hilarious, im in a fog today forgive me), but going further back we obviously had taakitz, preceded by destiel, preceded by johnlock, preceded all the way back in high school by tbh the blueprint of Feral Bitches Finding Each Other And Making Each Other Better And Worse All At Once... sophie and howlmovingcastle... oh wait but if we want a real throwback that still rips my heart from my chest a decade and a half later, kyo/tohru fruitsbasket. oof... gotta lie down... into the next...

first ship: well i hit on that in fave ships, but definitely kyo/tohru. back in fuckin middle school i could tell those two needed each other 😭

last song: i have spotify on right now so last one that finished was White Stripes - Icky Thump but the currently playing is yeule - Pretty Bones [EDIT from the bottom, Fleetwood Mac - The Chain is playing me out, so, that's fun for us, huh?]

currently reading: all i read is fic these days and i'll be honest i've fallen extremely behind However i'm extremely extremely invested in Alethophobia by @jay-auris and i am itching to catch up (smirk... u are not on tumblr to see this but im calling out thru the ether.... saturday.... read w me.... after pathfinder........) Literally fic of all time, yeah it's an AU but like. hear me out. it's phenomenal, it's an exceptional mystery, it's not even rly a slowburn imo they've just Been Thru It, jay is a wizard, the characterization is like. best i've seen tbh i'm Entranced and i think about it a Lot even when i fall behind

last movie: i . i think it was indeed glass onion lol

currently watching: i binged the first season of Only Murders In The Building earlier this week and am Obsessed, can't wait to watch season 2, show of all time. i'm having a mystery moment it seems

consuming: strawberry flavored water... barely... not a good food day oop im sorry

currently working on: alternating between two cross stitch projects (got one more coffin ornament Plus Another If I Am Not Out Of My Mind After This One, but my passion is in this rainbow quaker squares beast) AND in a new year's miracle, i have been Writing Again for [redacted] for an exchange (it has been literally like half a year since putting words to doc hasn't made me feel like clawing my skin off i am taking the W)

no pressure to do this if u don't feel like it! but tagging some folks i don't Think have been tagged: @wrath-of--the-lamb, @partiallyobscure, @fanfic-fugue, @space-jaam, @fivevotesdown, @nuclearparade, @gothwizardmagic, @2momsatbrunch, and tbh who ever wants to do it im tagging you too

[mysteriouslybluepirate]

OFMD Favs Tag Game

I was tagged by- @likethehotsauce Thank you so much! Always love to rant.

(I'm probably not doing this right, cause I'm just using this a an excuse to look back on the parts of the show itself that I love, but I needed to write an essay today. And it's been months since I went back to my Stede/Ed roots. Before Izzy latched himself onto my brain. So here's some love!)

favorite Ed gif:

Look, I love ep7, especially on rewatches. Most rom-coms run into the trouble of not showing the audience our protagonists bond. They rarely get to relax around each other before the relationship really starts but that's what this episode is.

We've got Ed, who's starting to get comfortable/settled in around Stede. Stede having a fun little adventure, trying to make Ed thinks he's cool. Ed genuinely having a shitty day and finally getting that Stede cares about him. It's really fucking sweet. This gif just wraps that all up in a cute ball. The fit? Amazing. The lil hop? Adorable. Edward essentially telling everyone to shut up and just let Stede have his fun? Cute pre-boyfriend moment. He's a goofball, and this episode needs more love on here.

favorite Stede gif:

Yeah, yeah. Ed's here. But the scene is focusing on Stede and resolving an arc (my favorite thing), so it counts! Stede has issues feeling accepted. He has gone without a 'crew' for so long that he's unapologetically who he is. He already feels along, why the fuck would he care about dressing up and being a bit too 'feminine'? They already make fun of him for not being enough, he already feels along. Why wouldn't he try to be happy not giving a shit about what they think?

So, in ep 10, we see a Stede who feels accepted into a family. He gets to get up there with a silly little in-joke and have people put their trust in him. Are they doing this to get back at the Navy? Yeah. But Stede build himself a place where he feels like he can be accepted and welcomed. I don't always see Stede in the best light. Accountability is a huge thing for me, and S2 better include this guy fessing up for the hurt he's caused. But this scene always makes me smile when I think about it.

favorite Ed outfit:

:). I know what I'm about. I'm simple, and if you've been here a while, you already know. We get to see Edward proudly rocking Stede's lil handkerchief. The tummy is great, and so is seeing his tattoos. I always love a fingerless glove, and his jewelry is on point. Yes, I love Ed in soft fabrics. Especially the loose poet shirt moment in ep 4. But in my head, this is Ed being a frat guy and trying to seduce Stede. 'Usually the exposed skin and touching works :('. Cause this poor guy has had to seduce assholes like Jack, and isn't comfortable with opening up yet. Ed's also just having fun exposing Stede to 'pirate' things which is a favorite trope of mine.

favorite Stede outfit:

Unironically? All of them.

Next question.

OKAY. FINE. IF I HAVE TO CHOOSE-

Gender. Whole lotta gender right here. I'm a sucker for loose fabric and BOY.

Open Shirt? Yes. Hideously colored mustard robe that works because it's a part of the whole 'look'. Achieved. Rings? Amazing. Fluffy shirt that's a button-up? Yep, you could totally reveal more chest.

FLUFFY SLEVES!!!! AHHH. But seriously, most of his outfits are amazing. I chose like five different Gifs-before settling on this for the lace sleeves.

favorite Blackbonnet song:

Oh boy! Buckle up.

(I have 2 playlists with these 2 with around 40 total hours of music on Spotify from the 4 months post ep10 airing where I only read these two. So any answer I give is going to )

Stede POV specific('A Stede Soundtrack' on spotify)- Five Bells- CoCo and The Butterfields. Yes, I have better ones, but the general vibe is just happy, light, and in love. Excited for the future. (If this song is actually about something else, keep me innocent). With instrumentals, and dancing, and fucking joy. I love this song. 2.) Being 'May It Last'- The Avett Brothers if Folk music isn't your thing. 3.) 'The Bitch is Back'-Elton John For bitchy Stede. The best flavor.

Edward POV specific ('Blackbeard's Breakup' on Spotify)- Desperately in love Ed? 'honey'-Coastal Club. yes, I am a pet name Edward truther. Also a song about being excited by life and by love. If it's Stede Hating, Kraken era? 'Money, Money, Money'-ABBA. Yes, I know Edward is now the breadwinner, but it's very Him.

Gentlebeard. Sad era- 'Last Request'- Paolo Nutini. Oh shit, I have a crush era- 'I think I love you'-Specifically the Tenacious D cover. It's Jack Black, how can you hate it? Desperately in love- 'An Old Fashioned Love Song'-Paul Williams. This song has been in my Spotify top 100 for years. I fucking love it.

favorite OFMD fic trope:

HAHA! You didn't specify the ship, so I get to bring up Izzy.

SteddyHands specific- Stede&Ed working together/competing for Izzy to choose them first. Especially if Ed&Stede already know that Izzy has a crush on them but Izzy doesn't. I don't read this ship too much anymore, but this always made me happy.

Izzy Specific-Post S1 Izzy hunting down Stede, hijinks ensuing. Izzy gets injured, and this starts his character jornery into a mentally healthier person. Him getting loved tbh. Aslo, Izzy getting described as short. He's really not that much shorter than most of the crew. I just love when it's brought up.

Long fic- Anything character based, post S2 'reunion'. Essentially skipping how they all resolved S1 and skips to the fun parts. Love Izzy learning/starting to care for the crew. If reading a fic kinda feels like going to therapy, you're doing it right. Huge shoutout to anyone who has tried to break down how Izzy's brain works for angst fic. Also, Ed and Stede being held accountable for some of their more shitty actions.

Short Fic- You know what, I'll say it. I like soulmate (and adjacent) AUs. Love me a Hanahaki, or similar curses. If there's a story reason two characters are dubiously forced to admit their feelings, I'm there. I love that 'what if they don't like me' rant even though its destined, I love the holding yourself back to keep another person happy shit. Yes, irl, that'd be fucked. But since it's a short fic, it doesn't need to worry about all that.

Trope Tropes- Buttons being a Disney princess around animals. Lucius living in the walls. Izzy swears every other sentence. Any media of the Revenge (music, stories) being super out of time period. Two characters are falling in love, but are the last people to realize it. Stede being a pirate parent.

Ed’s hair or Stede’s hair:

I agree with what likethehotsauce said. Both fit the character really well. I can't imagine Stede or Ed suddenly shaving their head. It's a part of who they are.

If this is about me wanting their hair? I'm choosing Ed's. I've had Stede length hair for the past 2 years, and miss braiding my hair. Also, his hair looks soft as shit. Good to run your fingers through, etc.

longest gap between rewatches:

July 2022-January 2023. I watched it like 13 times post ep 10 aired, then immediately jumped into fan content. I'm a huge 'character' person when consuming media, so I generally enjoy doing that vs rewatching the show itself again.

Lucius is Hiding in the Ship vs. Lucius is Dead and a Ghost:

No corpse= Not dead. Once Ed and Stede reunite I don't think Ed would be able to forgive himself if he actually killed him. Lucius was saved by someone on the ship and hidden away. I do think Lucius will be discovered before the captains reunite. As much as I love ghosts, our guy is safe. Fearing for his life, but safe.

favorite Revenge crew member: OG Revenge-Frenchie or Buttons. If y'all haven't written him in your fics, including Buttons. He's so much fun to make the 'Cassandra' of your work! Let him be ominous and all-knowing, it's a great time! Frenchie because I'm always up for a bard, and he's a character that has so much potential. From being a bard to an 'assassin in training' with Izzy & Jim. They're fun to throw in!

Again, many thanks to @likethehotsauce! I would like to tag — absolutely zero pressure!!! I know most of you are mostly into Izzy, and I love hearing harsh opinions about Ed&Stede or general thoughts on the show looking back, after a year. @ivegotnonameidea @dianetastesmetal @gydima @downinthehull @treesofgreen @ladyrenity

[headmaestro]

Benedict's Tale: Where Music Begin | Prelude.

As time marches forward, the Maestro conducts a symphony of love, each note serves a testament to the passage of time and the beauty of fleeting moments.

CHAPTER ONE: The First Movement ♪ .. || “Thus now, the orchestra stirs into a new movement—a symphonic rebirth,” whispered, BENEDICT ELDRITCH.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ [ . . . ]

Foresee, crafting a love story as timeless as a classic tune, PARK JONGSEONG for the MAIN COMPOSITION and JAKE SIM, PARK SUNGHOON , LEE JUYEON, KIM SUNWOO and JUNG SUNGCHAN as his SIDE COMPOSITIONS. Mingled—casting a soft glow that illuminated the stage, where an aura lingered of a LEGAL 20+ took part.

The lead drives the strings of your heart to be plucked, as he strives onto the stage filled with a symphony of emotions, seamlessly transitioning between roles of LOVER, FRIEND, FAMILY, and ETC. Composed by several sonnets of BXG and BXB connections in his lyrical tone as DOMINANT.

The head maestro remarked, “The audience is buzzing. Let’s give them something to remember, 'shall we?” Just as that, pure confidence showed on the TAURUS's bright eyes, resembling his true nature of an ENTP.

Merely heard by the crowd—the sound of rustling pages filled the air, a gentle reminder of the music yet to come. He greeted the audience not only in musical gestures, but also through alluring BILINGUAL, INDONESIA, ENGLISH, and JAVANESE resonance of pitch.

Dedicated to the echoes filled in the hearts of all who had been fortunate enough to listen as he indicated his care through a gentle touch of GIVING GIFT, QUALITY TIME and WORDS OF AFFIRMATION, harmonizing with the sounds around.‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⋆⋆✮♪♫♪✮⋆⋆

CHAPTER TWO: The Entrancing Melodies Unfold ♪ .. || “Remember, every note we play is a part of our story. Let's make the best of our performance,” uttered, The Head Maestro. The notes carry on to every Maestro's AVAILABILITY:

♬ ) All basic services, PDA With/Without Channel (VIP & VVIP only), Stay Up Late (ask first), Pap Activity (without face), OTP/Sleepcall (mute only), Imagine N/SFW (only literature; ENG), Deep Talk, In Character (Actress, Idol, AU, etc) ask first, Music Session (Spotify, Rave), Movie Date (Rave, Loklok), Food and Drink Date (bills on cust), Art Date, Reading Date, Study Date, Game Date (@gamee, Plato, gartic.io, any else ask first), Move Platform (Instagram, Line, WhatsApp, Twitter.)

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ⌞ A charmer so alluring, controlled, yet deeply, unshakably alive.⌝

CHAPTER THREE: Gentle Melodies Savored ♪ .. || “ It was a heartbeat, a breath shared between us all,” remarked, The Head Maestro. Which means, a new INTRODUCTION has finally opened in our shared chapter.

Hey, sweetheart! Let's take a moment, to talk about the kind of man you dream of, and see if that could be me, perhaps? I hope you don't mind reading this little introduction. It's all about me, and I'm excited to show you who I really am. We're just getting to know each other, right? So let's start off by becoming better acquainted, and you'll see what I'm all about. Sound good? I'm Benedict Eldritch, but everyone calls me Ben, Bene, El or maybe it would be better if you called me darling instead? If you want to know me on a deeper level, start with this, and don't skip over this important part!

Before I tell you more, I'll give you a quick rundown of who I am, so you know what my personality is like. That way, we can vibe together, and you'll see it's a win-win for us both. So, I'm an ENTP according to my MBTI and a Taurus for my zodiac sign. Now, if you're thinking that zodiac personalities are the full story, I'll tell you you're wrong, babe. I'm a guy you can trust and count on, always ready to be who you need me to be. Don't worry when you're with me, I'll make sure you never feel out of place.

I'm 50% into lovey-dovey relationship and 50% into love-hate relationship, I can be a boyfriend who truly loves you with all my heart if you want it, but if you want a relationship full of flirting, I can be your 'tengil' boyfriend who will always tease you but will still love you behind it all. My love languages? I’m fluent in all of them, but these three stand out most; Quality Time, Words of Affirmation, and Receiving/Giving Gifts. With these, I know I’ll capture your heart. So don’t worry, I’ve got this, and I’m sure you’ll fall for me.

I love when someone gives me a cute nickname, but if you feel like calling me "kakak," I won't mind, it makes me feel even more connected. I'm super talkative, love to flirt, mature, and making sure my special someone feels at ease around me is a must. My friends say I'm a good listener too, though I'm still figuring out why they think so. Curious? Well, let's try out this love thing, and I'll let you into my world, treating you like the princess/prince you deserve to be. You'll have a throne in my heart, sweetheart. If you want, you can come take your seat, my love.

Being smooth with my words might not be the easiest thing, but I enjoy it because I love making those around me happy. I think you'll notice that too when you're with me. I have a way of making my partner feel relaxed and secure, and my caring side will always help calm you down whenever you're feeling anxious. Life is unpredictable, just like how my love for you will be endless and unknowable. My goal? To make sure you feel truly happy being with me. Oh, and by the way, I've got a great taste in music! Some of my favorites include 'Void' by The Neighbourhood, 'Falling' by Chase Atlantic, 'Die For You' by The Weeknd, and 'Perfect' by Ed Sheeran. And don't worry, I like all kinds of music genres in this world, maybe we can try match our music taste out? I'm sure we can swap playlists sometime. I can't wait to share some sweet tunes with you, babe, and just spend that time together, listening to love songs that remind me of you. Lastly, I'm into any genres of movies, such as Drama, Action, Romcom, Sci-fi, Fantasy, Thriller, Adventure, Horror. I also like watching MCU and DC movies.

[carmenized-onions]

Just Dropped. | Missing Invoice

logline; It's still fucking Friday. Half past five, maybe?

[!!!] series history, this is the eleventh; We're jumping RIGHT back in babe, feel free to re-review chapter ten to remember everything lmao.

Spotify Playlist, if you like to listen while you read. I listen to it when I write :) Constantly gettin’ added to.

portion; 8.2k Thank fucking god this got split off from the last.

possible allergies; hurt,,,,, some comfort? You'll see, idk. No spoils. Terrible self-image, a lot of talk of Mikey's death and blame about it. Just a lot of mean and hurtful words to oneself and others.

pairing; Carmen ‘Carmy’ Berzatto & Fem Reader (i don't believe there's any pronouns but feminine titles are used? you'll see) Also, if I'm being honest, this chapter is not about Carmen, lmao. but when are they, really?

you ever notice that the other shoe chapter doesn't have a period? lol pranked you!! genuinely both very interested and very nervous to hear y'alls thoughts on this one,,, i hope you like it,,,, if you don't,,,, let me down so gently, sweetpea

Same team. You say to Marcus.

It’s an idiom you coined, long ago. It’s a simple phrase you and your friends started to exchange whenever heads got hot, and you had to remind each other that at the end of the day, you’re fighting for the same thing. To get through the end of the day, together. You’re on the same team.

It’s not interchangeable with ‘we good?’ It means so much more than that. Fights happen, they do. You know that better than anyone, but it’s important to remind each other what you’re fighting for. Same team, you say to Marcus, after reciting all the pastas on order.

He says it back, calming down. Talking to Richie was just as important as running expo; same team. He gets it. You exchange reassuring nods.

Two doors swing open. First, Sweeps comes in through front of house, pressing a note to your back, you hold it there. You don’t think it’s a good sign when he mumbles, slipping past your shoulder. “Need a smoke break, one sec.”

Second, Carmen swings out of his office. Phone call over, he seems deeply bothered. Is Natalie okay? Is he okay? You imagine he wouldn’t just return to his station, right in front of expo, if everything wasn’t okay. He does seem… On the verge of something, though. Despite your concerns, you continue to bark out orders. You try to run it a little more… prim, this time, with Carmen back. A couple fewer ‘love yous’ peppered in between table numbers. You don’t want to make him snap by running the place not like his Exec would.

Richie rolls back his shoulders, stretching out his neck. He tries to find sympathy and kinmanship, in Carmen, “Cousin, your ol’ boss is such an asshole, you wouldn’t believe what he—”

“Respect him, Chef.”

Huh? That gives both you and Richie pause. You stutter on the order. “Twen—Twenty-six, table twenty-six, waiting on fish, Chefs.”

“Fish.” Carmen hands the plate off to expo, immediately. Cold. He hasn’t even commented on you running expo yet. Is he mad? You’re probably doing a shit job at this. You hand the serving tray off to Fak to run. He speeds out, like a reverse lassie, sensing danger and wanting to get the fuck out immediately.

“…Respect him?” Richie repeats, dumbfounded.

“He’s a Two-Star Executive Chef.” Carmen doesn’t take his eyes off his cutting board. You’re not sure what he’s making, right now— Oh shit, you should tell him about the cherry and lamb before he wastes his time.

“Don’t matter what his title is—” “Yes. It does.”

Richie’s brows raise then furrow, as do yours, just not nearly as dramatic. Neither of you were expecting a fight over this, you’ve both been serving this man first hand. Carmen worked for this guy for like two or three years, he knows. He has nightmares about this guy. You were expecting comradery. The guy is a dick, why won’t Carmen admit that? Why’s he suddenly got stock in his captor?

“Who shit in your cereal? He’s bein’ a fuckin’ creep, Cousin.” That touches your heart, a little bit. Richie’s not directly saying it’s affecting you, but it’s nice to know that he just as equally cares about your discomfort.

Carmen’s a different story, though. Because he doesn’t question why Richie would say this. Doesn’t bother to consider the idea that he’s not fully informed, on the situation. On any situation, for that matter. He just thinks he’s being attacked, for some reason.

“N’ what the fuck are you?”

That snaps you off of your focus— Quite frankly, it snaps half of the kitchen out of their focus. Everyone’s knives pause above their cutting boards, spoons half dipped into pots, it hangs in the air, for a second.

“Pardon me?” Richie puts a hand over his chest, taking a half step back, to physically display how much offense he’s taken. Fucking hell, it’s gonna be this now. “What the fuck am I?”

“D’you want me to tell you? Cause I’ll fuckin’ tell you.”

You’ve gotta get between this, before Carmen can tell him. You slip Sweeps’ note in your pocket, long forgetting it, at this point. When you step forward, Richie puts an arm in front of you, barring you from getting in the middle of this. “Rich—”

“Please.” Richie goads, ignoring you. “En-fucking-lighten me.” You immediately brace yourself for whatever impact you and the rest of this kitchen are going to be collateral for.

“You’re a fuckin’ deadbeat, Rich.” Carmen puts his knife down, turning from his station to face Rice. Where the fuck is all this coming from? What kind of phone call was this? When you open your mouth to interrupt, Richie puts his other hand up in front of your face, shushing you. He wants to hear what Carmen has to say. You desperately do not want to hear what Carmen has to say.

“You wouldn’t have shit without me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t have shit?”

“You wouldn’t be able to pay for your fuckin’ life—” “Oh here we go—” “Or your fuckin’ kid—” “Oh, oh you wanna talk to me about my fuckin’ kid?” “You wouldn’t have shit—” “At least I have a fuckin’ kid.” “Fuck you!”

“Fuck you, you don’t have shit, Carmen, you don’t let good shit ever fuckin’ happen to you. So fuckin’ tough, never let anyone talk to you.”

It is impossible to get a word in, inch wise. They are so in each other’s faces, Carmen’s a bit shorter than Richie, and that somehow does not make him any less intimidating. This has been brewing long before you showed up, that much is very fucking clear. What caused the snap to happen now is beyond you.

You cannot find a moment to interrupt, to attempt to mediate. No one can. The kitchen is divided, some continue cooking to avoid the situation, some have stopped to watch, wondering to themselves who’s going to intervene, and some are like you, waiting for the right moment to step in. There will never be a right moment to step in.

“Where were you, when I fuckin’ put your brother in the ground, you selfish piece of shit?”

Oh. Stray bullet, for you. You wince— Not that you weren’t already, but that was definitely a personal hit. Richie’s still harbouring resentment over that for Carmen, which means he still holds it somewhere for you, too. And at least Carmen came back after, to take care of The Beef. Where the fuck were you for the better half of a year? Vanished. You completely vanished, on him.

“You’re so fucking obsessed with my family— Such—You’re such a fucking leech.”

You catch it from Carmen, too. Does Carmen see you as a leech? A parasite, tethering to his family? To his work? Is that why he’s mad, right now? You’ve inserted yourself without asking— You’re so pushy— No, no, he likes that your pushy, you’re good. He doesn’t think that about you, he doesn’t actually think Richie is a leech either, he’s just saying shit to start shit. It’s working. He’s really stirring up shit.

“Oh, I’m fucking obsessed—” “You fucking leech—” “I’m so fucking obsessed with you.” “I should’ve cut you out!” “Yeah.” “I should’ve fuckin’ cut you out!”

“I fuckin’ love you!” Richie points in Carmen’s face, and Carmen somehow manages to not give a shit. It does nothing, for Richie to have said this, and that is shattering. Sydney reaches for your hand, you don’t look at her, you only know it’s her because of the band-aids. You take it.

“You fucking need me!”

“I fucking love you!”

“You’re fucking nothing!”

“Don’t fucking say that!” That’s when you jump in. Practically call and response, for you. Your body processes what Carmen even said before your brain does. That was the straw. Carmen picked the wrong fucking one, to say that in front of. Carmen drew the line a lot of times, Carmen drew the line when he said to respect that Asshole— Quite frankly, Carmen drew the line with the broken sauce ‘you want a star’ bullshit with Syd— But this was the back breaker, for you.

You let go of Syd’s hand, moving to be in between the men, back facing Richie, defending him, “Don’t fuckin’ say that shit to Richie— To anyone, ‘specially not Richie.”

“Oh, like he’s some fuckin’ prize?” Your eyes go wide, like dinner plates. Carmen continues, “You wanna fix him, too? Add him to the list?”

“Fix him?” Is that what he thinks of you? That you think people need ‘fixing’? “I’m not trying to fix anyone, Carmen.”

“Didn’t try to fix Mikey?”

You straighten up a bit, whole brain dialing up. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.”

You adore Carmen, but in this moment, you cannot help but think of all the utterly life ruining comebacks you could say to set him on his ass, right now. Bite your tongue, same team. “Oh, I’m excused?”

“You don’t fuckin’ work here.” Ouch.

“Oh, suddenly that’s a problem—”

“Think you’re the fuckin’ peoples’ princess—” Ouch.

“That is not what I’m doing—”

“No no, of course it’s not, you’re such a goddamn saviour, modern day Christ.” Ouch.

“Carmen—” Richie tries to step in front of you, you put the back of your hand on his chest, holding him back. Time for you to prove what you said, in your kitchen, just a few days ago. Time to prove to Carmen, and quite frankly, yourself, that you can take this. That you can take his teeth. Carmen gave you fair warning, that the shoe could drop, that he might do this. Your first fight. It came a lot faster than you expected, but fair warning’s a fair warning.

“Say what you wanna say, Carmen.”

“Where’s your fucking invoice?” Carmen’s never swore at you, you’re pretty sure. It feels weird, in your chest. Cornering. You frown. “You didn’t fuckin’ give it to Nat, don’t lie.”

“It’s complicated.” It’s a legitimate answer, to you. It is complicated. “We can talk about it, after—”

“I don’t need to be some fuckin’ charity tax write-off, alright?” Carmen interrupts, he doesn’t care to hear your explanation. He’s already decided your intentions, and that feels very unfair, doesn’t feel like you’re on the same team. “Just fucking charge me. You wanna work here? Fucking charge me.”

Is he trying to make your entire dynamic transactional? Why is he acting like this? What did you do wrong? Don’t tear up. You can take it. You can take the teeth, Tony, come on. “That’s not—”

“I don’t need fuckin’ fixing, alright, I’m not another fucking addict—”

You can feel bristle Richie behind you. You both handled that ‘fucking addict’ first hand, and you certainly don’t care for him to be referred to as such. You interrupt Carmen’s tirade, “Don’t say that shit—”

Carmen rolls back his head, like he’s tired of some sort of façade— Like you’re being fake. “Oh, my fucking God—”

“What! What the fuck—” “He’s fucking dead, you can say it— He was a fucking loser junkie—”

He doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it, he doesn’t mean it. He’s just trying to start shit. Same team. He’s just hurt over something he hasn’t admitted yet. Same team.

“Carmen—” You can’t get a word out, with this guy. God, you wish this was at least behind closed doors. Wish he’d give you and Richie the grace of breaking you both down without an audience.

“And, and—” There’s a split second of manic laughter to it, he’s so incensed by the idea. “You, you fucking gave that junkie money?”

You’re quick to furrow your brows, emphatically shaking your head. Did you give him discounts on services and pay his diner tab on occasion? Sure. But that’s an entirely different thing. “I never gave Mikey a cent—”

“Oh?” Carmen shrugs, “So you don’t have a joint bank account?”

Oh.

Oh. Is that what this is fucking about? He found some paperwork or a debit card lying around and lost his shit? Carmen and Mikey are very different people, and you love that, but one of your least favourite differences is Mikey never circled the drain, when it came to what he didn’t like. Carmen’s spent forever, needling Richie, and then needling you over some fucking joint bank account? That still doesn’t feel like it, though. There’s gotta be something he’s not saying.

To be fair, you know how the man spirals, you were hoping to explain these weird leftovers from your history yourself. This is what the painting was for. You were supposed to start on the first page— God, at the very least, a softer page, one that makes it all make sense, for him.

“Carmen, I get why you may be confused, but I—”

“Don’t tell me I’m fucking confused. I’m not fucking confused— I— This is my fucking kitchen, alright?” Entirely nonsensical. Too many thoughts are stirring in his head.

It’s hard to keep your eyes from watering. Take the teeth, same team. It was easier to compartmentalize with Mikey, when he yelled at you, because his eyes were blown out, and you could tell that it wasn’t him talking to you. But this is a sober Carmen. This is what he deep down, somewhere, thinks of you, isn’t it? He doesn’t think you belong in his kitchen. Don’t belong here.

“That— That fuckin’ asshole out front, or whatever you fuckin’ call him?” He points to booth twelve, through the window. You are now reminded that there is a window, and that there are more people than just the kitchen, here, there’s patrons. If they craned their necks and listened close, the sound proofing would keep them from hearing Carmen, but you feel like they could probably hear the way your heart is struggling to keep pace.

“That’s me— That’s who the fuck I am. And I’m good like that, so—So if he’s a fuckin’ creep so am I. N’ I don’t need you comin’ in my fuckin’ kitchen, comin’ in my fuckin’ life, actin’ like you know better than me!”

“I never said I know better than you!”

“You didn’t need to!”

“I—” You swallow your spit. You have always tried to keep a level field, with Carmen. Since day one. “I never meant—”

“I don’t— I am not your fuckin’ charity case, you do not need to-to donate to me to make up for the fact that you failed Mikey!”

Yeah.

You can’t take these teeth.

Carmen Anthony Berzatto realizes a couple of things, seven things, in quick succession, after he says this.

Thing One. His middle name is Anthony. Tony. That’s kind of funny. He should tell you that, make you laugh. He never really thought about it, until now. Didn’t have one of those moments where his brain disconnects from his body as a method of escaping the poison in his mouth, so it can have plausible deniability, until right now.

Thing Two. You are not Mikey. He had gotten so caught up, over the past week, conflating the fact that you’re both so likable and so ‘The Guy’ with the idea that you’re just the same. You’re not. You don’t react to being pushed and screamed at, like Mikey did, you don’t scream back. You defend yourself, but you don’t bite back at him, the way he bit at you. You don’t fight. You don’t get mean. You are not Mikey. Carmen always took Mikey trying to help as him trying to one up him; a silent way of saying he was better. You are not Mikey. You helping around the kitchen tonight, helping him every fucking day, was never you trying to one up him— Let alone fix him.

Thing Three. Your cherry and lamb plate is nowhere to be seen. It’s only been like three, five minutes? Where’d it go? He can’t even find a plate of bones. You’re never going to speak to him again, after this, he knows that. He’s never going to hear straight from you what you thought, he needs to see if you cleaned the plate.

Thing Four. He didn’t even ask. He didn’t even mention the photos, the thing that he was actually hung up about. Carmen’s confrontational, but not in the way that matters. He yells, but it’s never the thing he actually wants to yell about. Those candles could’ve been for anything. How old was Eva, when you met Mikey? Carmen doesn’t know, he wasn’t here. Could’ve just been birthdays. There’s a million reasons to have those photos, there’s a million reasons to have a joint bank account. He should’ve asked. He should’ve listened when you were trying to explain. You were trying to explain. You had something to say. You even acknowledged how confused he must be. How confused must you be, right now? He didn’t explain why he was yelling, at all. He didn’t ask, and he didn’t listen.

Thing Five. Carmen wasn’t here. You were. You were here. He blames himself, for his brother’s suicide, and he wasn’t even here. And then there’s you. You were here, and you probably took Mikey on your shoulders the way you take everything on your shoulders. And he just said you failed. He never asked you, if you blamed yourself, but he doesn’t need to. Everyone blames themselves. God, why did he call Richie nothing? Richie was here, too. He’s not a fucking leech, he was here. And that’s a fuck of a lot more than Carmen did. It’s not just about when Richie put his brother in the ground, it was the years before, proceeding, that Carmen wasn’t here for, and both of you were. And he just fucking said that you failed. He said it was your fault.

Thing Six. Carmen glances over your trembling shoulders, out the window, to where he can just see the edge of his old Exec’s head. Who he’s just said he is. Ugh. He thinks back to when that man became Exec, and Carmen took over as head. He remembers the promise he made to himself, when he went back to his shitty New York studio apartment and cracked open an incredibly expensive bottle of champagne (gifted) to drink alone on his mattress with no bedframe. He promised himself that no matter how bad it got in the kitchen, no matter how bad it got in his head, he would never get in someone’s ear and tell them that they were no good, terrible, slow, useless, better off dead, dumb fuck. He promised himself, that he would never make someone cry in his kitchen.

Point Seven. He’s resented the fact for the past week, that he hasn’t gotten to be the first person to do a lot of things, with you. He’s resented how much he missed out on, how much he wishes it was him in the photos, in the memories. But now you get to be one of his firsts. You get to be the first person he’s ever made cry, in his kitchen. When his brain comes back to his body, and he repeats back to himself the exchange that just happened. Yeah, he’d cry, too.

You have wonderfully bright eyes. He didn’t tell you that, before. He should’ve. He gets compliments on his bright blue eyes a lot, but yours just have this glow from within, about them. A brightness that he doesn’t, a sweetness that his don’t. That’s gone now. Eyes go from wide to hurt to vacant. Gone. Devoid. Hand over your mouth to cover the wobbling of your bottom lip. You look like he did, two years ago, at the French Laundry. A shell of what he was. A shell of what you are.

Carmen was right, he is the man out front. That’s who he is. That’s what he is.

A husk, biting down on the hand that feeds; defending nothing from no threat.

Richie didn’t need to call you, to let you know that Carmen’s awful for you, that he’s an asshole to everyone around him, that he’s sharp and not worth your time. Richie didn’t need to call you, to tell you that he’s just some fucking creep Executive Chef, but this time, he doesn’t even have any stars to retain about it. Richie didn’t need to call you. Carmen told you himself who he is, just fine.

Please make eye-contact. Please look him in the eyes, you used to do it all the time. You might never look him in the eyes again, please do it one more time. He didn’t savour it, before, didn’t hold it, when he should’ve. He would’ve, if he knew it would’ve been the last time. He should’ve been savouring it every time. He should’ve kissed you, when you kissed him on the temple— He should’ve let you know. You’re so smart, when it comes to emotions and things— Everything. Intuitive. If you’d look him in the eyes, you’d be able to tell how sorry he is, how wrong he knows he is for saying everything he said. But you’re downcast, trying to zero in on something.

You swallow, blinking wildly in a failed attempt to stall tears, and nod imperceptibly, digesting his words. He wishes you wouldn’t. This is the last thing he’d want you to eat.

Sydney is already rushing to your side, her station long forgotten. “Yoyoyoyoyo—”

She’s distressed, because she cares about you, hurrying to comfort you, taking your hand, then arm, then shoulder. She’s trying to get you to look at her, you won’t. You won’t look at anyone. She’s crouching to get in your field of vision. “C’mon, c’mon—”

Richie is behind you, where he should be, already squaring himself up, making himself taller. Carmen has never wanted someone to hit him, he’s pretty sure, until right now. He just wishes it was you doing it. Fight him back, please. Break his jaw, permanently, please. Keep him from saying anything ever again. Keep him from making you make that face, ever again. He wishes it was you doing it, but he’ll take Richie as a close second.

Richie steps in front of you, grabbing him by his collar, good. “How could you fuckin’ say that shit to Chippy—”

“Please don’t call me Chip.” Is the first thing you say, voice quiet, cracking. You’re pinching the bridge of your nose, hard, thumb nail digging in. Eyes closed. You’re trying to hold it down. “Not right now.”

And like a guard dog, Richie heels. Of course, Richie would find you more important than violence. He cares. You put a hand over Syd's, on your shoulder, squeezing it. “I’m good, Syd.”

Everyone knows you’re not good. Your voice cracks painfully, again, when you say you’re good. “Just gimme a second.”

“I love you, dude.”

“I know, Syd—” “Will you let me?” “I—”

You take one deep breath, slow, rubbing your thumb over her hand. She gives you a clean dish rag. You wipe your tears and blow your nose. When you lift your head back up, to face the crowd that is the kitchen, it’s like it never happened. Well, your face still has that puffiness and redness to it, and your eyes certainly look irritated and glassy. But you’ve gathered such resolve back, immediately. Hardened up, immediately. Turned off a sect of yourself. If Carmen didn’t know you, he doesn’t think he’d be able to tell you were just crying.

“Apologize,” —He'll grovel to high hell— “To Richie.”

Carmen’s eyes flicker with confusion, just for a second, you catch it. You repeat, clearer. “Apologize to Richie. Say you didn’t fuckin’ mean that.”

Carmen doesn’t need a broken jaw, to go speechless, apparently. You don’t care to defend yourself at all, here. Never put yourself first. He frowns, you don’t take it the right way, no, why would you? You speak with an extra layer of gravity.

“Berzatto.” Hurts worse than when you say Carmen with disappointment. Deserved punishment.

“I’m sorry, Richie…Not nothing.”

“Not fuckin’ forgiven—” You put a hand up, turning your head to face the man behind you. “Rich.”

“Oh, don’t—”

“Say sorry—” “He fuckin’ started it—” “You didn’t have to entertain it.” “He was bein’ a bitch—” “Jerimovich!”It’s more fun, when you do it to Richie. More kindergarten teacher like, breaking up a fight at recess.

“I’m fuckin’ sorry, Cousin.” Richie does not mean it. It’s okay. He doesn’t have to. He was right. Didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.

You turn back to Carmen, of whom you still will not make eye contact. That’s fair. “Can Richie take five?” He doesn’t like that you feel like you have to ask him for permission, now. “He’s gotta help me carry tools, to my car.”

That’s a chance to talk to you, alone. “I can—”

“No.” You shoot Carmen down quickly. “Richie’s got it. You’ve gotta keep your kitchen in order.”

That hurts. But he said it. He said it was his kitchen, he said you didn’t work here. You’re so much more than an employee. You’re family, everyone here treats you like family. This is your kitchen, too. He doesn’t really care what anyone else thinks, right now, but it also occurring to him that he said all that in front of everyone here, everyone who adores you. None of these people have seen this side of you— You didn’t come to the funeral. This is probably why. It’s pretty clear you don’t like crying in front of people, the way you immediately go somewhere else mentally.

Richie’s already walking, you didn’t actually ask him to grab your tools from the corner of the kitchen, but he just does it. Wordless. Richie knows how to show that he loves you. Carmen could learn, from that. Carmen could learn from Sydney too, she said it, and she’s still holding your arm.

Carmen takes a step forward to you, and what you mean by it, he’s not sure, but what he does see, is you take a step back. He immediately takes two steps back.

You’re very good. Too good, too good for anyone. Not gonna change my mind ‘bout that. That’s what he said to you, when you confessed you were worried he would ‘figure out’ you weren’t good. He lied to you. The other shoe dropped and he’s the one that made it.

You sniff, you feel bad for taking a step back, but you think if Carmen touched you right now, you’d have a full-blown meltdown, and you’d like to hold some modicum of respect amongst your peers here.

Carmen hates you. You didn’t expect that. But it’s fair. You’re not certain what he saw along with the joint bank account, but if he was able to put the pieces together, it makes sense. You failed his brother, failed Mikey. God, it’s still ringing in your ears. You killed him. Everyone knows that. Everyone hates you. He said the quiet thing, that everyone here knows, out loud. You didn’t do enough. You weren’t smart enough. You failed to do the one job you’ve been trained for, save someone, set them at ease— For fuckssake, just keep your friend from dying. Is that so fucking difficult? Was that so hard? He’s right to say it. You don’t have the right to be upset right now. He doesn’t owe you anything. You owe him.

You owe him.

You look to Syd, “You have a pen?”

You can tell she doesn’t like that you’re essentially blocking off the part of your brain that feels pain. What’d she expect? You were an E.M.T. for three years, you learned how to turn off your brain. She gives you the pen from her breast pocket anyways. You dig through your pants pocket for a slip of paper, oh shit, the note from Sweeps, you completely forgot about it. It’s a folded guest check, it says ‘B12’ on the front. Booth Twelve, you infer. You unfold and read Sweeps' chicken scratch. It’s nice to focus on something that isn’t the rotting feeling inside you… No fucking way.

“Sweeps!”

“Yuh-huh?” It’s nice that Sweeps has only just came back in from his smoke break. He has no idea why everyone’s shocked and/or enraged right now, and there’s something beautiful and perfect about that. Sanct.

“Did he seem serious?” You hold the note between two fingers for him to see and know what you’re talking about.

Sweeps shrugs, slipping his Marlboro pack into his inner breast pocket. “You can fuckin’ read that guy?”

A very fair call. You sigh, then flip the note over, it’s hard to write, using your hand as a pad, but it doesn’t really matter, neatness doesn’t matter. Just write it fast so you can get the fuck out of here and cry in your car about a boy that doesn’t love you and never will.

“Freezer door hotfix, eighty. Plumbing repair, took about four hours, that’s two-fifty. House call oven, seventy. Oven hotfix just now, plus replacement part costs… One-twenty.”

You hate doing this. It sucks to be doing this. This is what the fucking painting was for. Why couldn’t he just let you do it in the order you wanted? You were supposed to start this on a better page.

“Said I’d pay you back for that pinot, which is about twenty on wholesale, so… Five hundred even.”

You click and unclick the pen, several times, shoulders tensing. “I don’t think you need fixing, and I wasn’t trying to make up for anything. I’m sorry, Carmen.”

“I’m—” It’s the first time he’s tried to speak, and you just can’t let him. You can’t listen to his voice right now, you know it’s unfair, but you can’t, so you interrupt him.

“I didn’t tell Nat you covered the invoice.”

You hand him the note, careful to hold it at the very edges, so you don’t make contact when he takes it. “I owe you two thousand.”

At the bottom of your shoddy invoice, it reads, ‘Advanced Payment, M. Berzatto. $2,500.’

You told him it was fucking complicated.

He should’ve let it lie. He should’ve bitten his fucking tongue, like you did for him constantly. You told Nat her brother covered the invoice; you just didn’t say which one. Was it intentionally sneaky? Yeah, obviously, because how were you supposed to fucking explain that? It’s fucking complicated. But no, Carmen didn’t fucking want to hear anything you tried to explain, so you’re just gonna let his stupid fucking dumbfounded face stay that way. If he just told you what he actually saw, like a fucking adult, you could’ve done so, happily. But Carmen hates you, and he’s decided what you are. He probably doesn’t want to hear much of your voice, anyways. Keep it short.

“So just… I’ll just uhm… Wire you. Or something.”

You sigh, thinking about what’s on the other side of that fucking note. “You have my number, you can give it to him, if you want.”

The Exec liked the cherry and lamb dish. Of course he would, it was perfect. It also seems like he enjoys that you’re both smart and clearly ‘spunky’, or some shit. He wants the ‘wine girl’s’ number. Didn’t even bother to remember you said Jack. And maybe, just maybe, he’ll send the mystical wine girl his close friend Michelin Guide Inspector’s number, and maybe they’ll review the place. Maybe. Doesn’t matter to you. Not your kitchen.

A chance at a chance at a chance or your well-being? That’s Carmen’s choice now.

You snap your finger, pointing to the note, remembering. You never brought The Guy a wine, “Pinot Noir. Marcassin 2013. Top left shelf. Pit a cherry and put it on the rim.” It's the perfect pairing, for his dish.

At least get him a star, if he has to hate you.

When you start to move, Syd’s still holding onto you. You don’t pull her off, but you do put your hand over hers, and she knows what you want. She doesn’t care. She repeats. “Will you let me?”

Goddammit. Does she want you crying all over again? You’re trying very hard to not look like a wuss, right now. “I will. Just need five minutes alone, okay? I’ll wait outside.”

She doesn’t want to, but you’re not giving her many other options here, so Syd nods and lets you go. “Five minutes.”

“Five minutes.” You clap your hands together, eyes glazing over the rest of the staff. Rest of your family. You’re trying not to read their expressions because if you do you very well might scream, cry, and throw up all at the same time. “Everyone! Back to work! It’s half past five you’ve still got a whole night ahead, look alive, Chefs.”

You pass Carmen, careful not to bump shoulders. Just get out of here unscathed. Hopefully he’s not too mad about the dish swap. You made the right call. It won’t matter if he’s mad, anyways, actually, he already hates you.

At least be something of value, for him, if he has to hate you.

Richie’s out there, leaning against the trunk of your shitty 2004 Dodge Intrepid. How he knew it was yours, you’re not sure. Probably the goofy bumper stickers. It’s a piece of shit. Broken fob. You have to use your key to unlock the trunk. It still works. You speak at once.

“What the fuck was that?”

You both laugh, though it’s hollow. You unlock the trunk, Richie throws your tools in. He’s first to add. “You didn’t actually want me to fuckin’ apologize, did you?”

You shrug, head tilting back and forth, he kisses his teeth, you supplement. “Listen, the ‘you don’t have a kid’— Touch crazy.”

“He fuckin’ started it!” “I know he fuckin’ did, I’m not defendin’ him!”

You purse your lips. There was the other thing Richie said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t at the funeral, Cousin.”

“Ah, oh…” Richie attempts to wave it off, shrugging, as if it wasn’t a huge fucking deal to him just two minutes ago. “It’s good—”

“It’s not.” You interject. Richie always says he’s fucking good, when he’s not. He’s not good about Tif, he’s not good about the Exec making fun of him, he’s not good about you abandoning him, for a year. “It’s not good, Richie, and I’m sorry.”

You swallow, closing your trunk. You attempt to remember bits and pieces of your prepared speech, from dinner. But this is reality, and typically once transferred from your mind, it makes the words so much clunkier, lines forgotten, here and there.

“I should’ve been here, after. It was fucked up, that I just left. Made you hold it down, by yourself, and— And I can’t fucking imagine, Richie, how hard that must’ve been.”

Standing in The Bear is a touch easier, because it’s so different now. But Richie was there, days after Mikey died, in The Beef. Taking smoke breaks with a shadow that was no longer next to him. Forced to keep morale up, all by himself. You can imagine how hard it must’ve been, and that’s exactly why you stopped coming around.

Richie can only bring himself to nod, swiping his nose, because it’s starting to run.

“I— I didn’t cut you out. I want you to know that.” Carmen was so cruel, with that shit. “That wasn’t me cutting you out. I— I was tryna cut myself out.”

He halfheartedly laughs, confused. “Fucks that mean, Cousin?”

“I—” How can you word this in a way that isn’t just as cruel? “I didn’t think we were friends.”

He mimics being shot. You add, “Fuckin’ listen—” “Fuckin’ drive-by—”

“I just didn’t think— I don’t think anyone’s my friend, I don’t think.”

“What’s that even begin to mean?”

“I… I feel like… I’m just like… So insecure, about my place in relationships, that like— Like I’m not worth people’s time. Like we were only friends because we were friends with Mikey and we were handling him and I was like— Like I was helpful. So, like, when he died, it was like… We— There was no reason, for you to be friends with me, anymore. No us.”

Richie takes a moment, to digest it. The silence is terrible for you though, so you continue. “I’m startin’ to realize, that not likin’ myself, can actually really end up hurtin’ the people I love—”

“I’d still love you, even if you weren’t helpful. By the by.”

Richie’s interruption hits you in the chest like a fucking freight train. “Oh Jesus Christ, Richie—”

“What? What the fuck—”

“That was just fuckin’ crazy.” You cover your eyes, tears already coming to a head. He’s relieved, you mean crazy like good.

“Fuck, Richie, I love you.” You sniff, trying to look at him through watery eyes, it’s near impossible to do without warbling. “Man… You were here.”

Now it’s Richie’s turn to have his tear-jerking trigger phase said. “Oh, don’t start, Chip—”

“You were fucking here, Richie, Carmen doesn’t fuckin’ get that— No one gets that.” You’re kind of blubbering, honestly, starting to point at him, speaking emphatically. It might be better that this is happening in the parking lot rather than in the middle of the restaurant.

“You’re fucking— You’re fucking something, okay? Carmen is a bitch, you were right— You’re good, Richie. You’re fucking good and—and— You were here, and you’re important, and— And— I didn’t fuckin’ say that enough, back then. So, I’m fuckin’ doin’ it now. I love you, and I’m here, and if fuckin’— If Eva ever needs anything, I’m there, if you’re ever in need, I’m there. If you just want to fuckin— Fuckin’ text someone, and actually just hang out like Normals—I’m there for that, too. I’d even go to fucking Tif’s wedding with you, if that helped.”

Richie’s got a couple tears going, which is good for you, because it makes your sobbing less embarrassing. “Fuck, Cousin…” He looks down, rubbing the bridge of his nose, like a self-soothing technique. When he looks back up to face you, he blurts it out.

“You wanna see a Taylor Swift concert wit’ me?”

Your response is immediate and baffled, “What?”

“I’ve got three tickets for me n’ Eva but Tif won’t come, it’s in January.”

You take a moment to buffer, brain half moving out of the tender moment. Shaking your head in disbelief, still fully crying.

“Richie… That sounds, like the worst experience I could ever imagine. You couldn’t pay me to write an outing so perfectly curated to be the worst, for me.”

“Don’t fuckin’ hate on T Swift—” “Richie, I’d love to.”

The death grip grab and hug is so immediate. You feel bad for getting tears and probably snot on his coat, but he said himself it’s a knock off, so he’ll live.

“You didn’t fail Mikey, Chip.” He kisses the crown of your head. Richie must be a good dad. You’d tell him that, but he might overload, the man doesn’t get acknowledged much, you’ve got to take it slow with the praise. You don’t reply to his sentiment, so he repeats it.

“Y’did everythin’ you humanly could.”

“I could’ve done a couple things different.”

“So could I. It my fault, too, then?”

You both know very well, that you blame yourselves. And as much as both of you would like it to, this one cry-fest isn’t going to magically make all of those bleeding guilts go away. Especially not after Carmen tore those stitches right back open.

“Well, no—” “‘Xactly.”

But you accept it, for the moment. “…Okay.” For this moment, you get the lesson.

And you’ll both forget it tomorrow, when you have that split second in the A.M. Where Mikey is still alive, before you remember. But right now, it’s neither of your faults that the glue between you died and left you both to figure out how to still stick together. You stay in that hug for quite a while, crying and rocking back and forth, before Richie lets go saying, “Aright, I do actually need a fuckin’ cig.”

“You’re going to give me second hand smoke and kill me.”

He smirks, already fishing out a loosie from his pocket. “We can only hope.”

Despite your complaints and not being a smoker, you still pull out a lighter for him. Mom friend. Never know when you’re going to need a fire. You cup the flame for him. This is the worst Friday of your life, you’re pretty sure. But here is Richie, sticking beside you. And here you are, sticking beside him.

Syd steps out, she keeps crossing between a walk and a jog to you two, unsure of what looks more awkward. You don’t know, but you do know the option of switching between both is easily the most awkward.

She asks, walk-jogging up to you, “Are you good?”

“I’ve been better.”

She grabs your face in her hands, reviewing your puffy bleary-eyed face. Just looking at it makes her want to cry, too. You hold her wrists. “M’sorry for cryin’ in your kitchen. I know that’s the type shit you deal with all the time—”

Richie and Syd speak in unison, a rarity, for them to be on the same page. “No the fuck it’s not.”

Sydney continues, “That was extremely not normal. Crazy fucked up of him to say that shit— I don’t even know like— Like any of the backstory, but even I know that was fucked up to say.”

You sniff, nodding slightly. “Yeah, a little.”

“A lot.”

You nod, no longer fighting to downplay it. That was fucked up of Carmen, you don’t need to try to make it seem less bad. “Yeah, a lot.”

She nods back, still holding your face. Bandaged fingers pressed against your head. “What d’you wanna do?”

“Go home?” Cry? Eat freezer cake?

“Well, yeah.” She chuckles, so you do too. “I mean like, like—” She nods behind her, to The Bear. What do you want to do going forward? Never talk to him again? I’ll do it, too. She’s saying, wordlessly.

“I— I don’t fuckin’ know.” You admit, laughing, but hollow. The very idea of reconciliation feels impossible, at the moment. “I think I’m just gonna, fuckin’ ignore it, until it comes up. Just don’t break shit until I figure it out, I guess.”

“Wedding gig is gonna be so awkward.”

“Oh, fuck—” Entirely forgot, about the wedding gig, next weekend. Vinnie and Mira, destination wedding. New York.

Richie pipes in, “Tonight’s gonna be awkward enough, don’t even wanna go the fuck back in.”

Syd nods, letting go of your face. “I think like, half the kitchen wants to walk right now, just to fuck with him. I do, too. Should we just say fuck this and go to Mattina?”

“Don’t think they’re open, only do breakfast and lunch.” Richie knows their hours; it wasn’t always just Mikey and you there. He takes a drag, he blows it away from you, so you don’t get second hand smoke.

“Fuck... Could do Denny’s? Inky, you fuck with Denny’s, still?”

‘Think once you realize, you’ll leave, and it’ll all leave with you.’ That’s what Carmen was scared of, exactly. What he thought would happen, if the other shoe dropped. Is this you leaving? This might be you leaving. This should be more dramatic, if this is you leaving, shouldn’t it? There should be finale music ringing in your ears, somehow. But instead, you’re in a parking lot with a chain smoker and your girl, making shitty diner plans.

You can’t let them leave Carmen. So much work cannot be wasted just for your hurt heart. You shake your head— Then nod, confusing yourself. “I—I do still fuck with Denny’s, but y’all have to go back in, you can’t fuck him over.”

“I very specifically want to fuck him over.” Syd’s quick to reply, Richie nods, agreeing. These two are only bonding over a mutual love of you and a current mutual hate of Carmen.

“You gotta get your star, Squid.”

She swallows, at that. She loves you, she does. But you’re right. You always are. This is her entirely livelihood and career, she can’t just dip out, because of a fight. She’s done it before, during the worst rush of her life, but that was small potatoes compared to this.

“Go hold it down,” You look at both of them, nodding to The Bear. “Don’t let anyone walk, solidarity is cute, but I’ll be okay.”

Regardless of how right you are, both Richie and Syd boo you. “Let him drown!”

It’s hard not to laugh. “Fuckin’ —guys— I’m serious.”

“I’m fuckin’ serious too, Chip!” Richie jabs at your shoulder, lightly, “Thought you said you take me fuckin’ serious?”

“Bitch—” You click your tongue, pointing at him, sighing. You can’t help but smile. They’re both on your team, to the bitter end. “I will see you at the wedding, aright? I’ll text you, both of you.”

“You driving, too?”

You and Syd both back up, for a second, expressions baffled. You’re first to ask Richie, “You’re driving?”

He’s equally confused. “What, you’re fuckin’ flying?”

“Cicero’s paying, why wouldn’t we?”

“Uncle Jimmy is fuckin’ paying?!” Richie gives him an emotionally charged chocolate covered banana and still hasn’t gotten on Uncle’s good side? This is bullshit.

“He’s paying for everyone! Or at least I thought he was—” Syd replies for you. “That was like the whole fuckin’ deal— Did you not get emailed a boarding pass?”

“No! He told me to get gas— You’re fuckin’ flying—?”

You clap your hands together, “Richie, what the fuck is going on in your life that this is not the first thing that you clarified for plans?” You tap Syd on the shoulder, “Marcus said he’s cool with switching seats, by the way, so we can sit together.”

“I have a fuckin kid, aright—”

“Ooohh—” You and Syd mock him in unison. “We get it.” “Whoop-di-doo.” “Did you hear, Squid?” “What’s that, Inky?” “Richie has a kid!” “What? No way. He definitely doesn’t bring it up all the fuckin’ time.”

“Alright, fuck you two.” He waves you both off. “Plane's gonna crash.”

Syd shrugs, “You’re doing a twelve-hour road trip, you’re gonna crash—”

“Fucks Inky mean anyways? Stupid ass nickname—” “Oh, like Chip is so original—” “Actually, a dead guy coined it, so betchu feel real dumb now—” “I’m not capable of feeling dumb—”

You interrupt, “Girls, girls, you’re both beautiful.”

That quells them with snorts of laughter, quickly. They both shove at you. Equilibrium.

You explain to Rich, “I called Syd ‘Squid’ in high-school— Literally just ‘cause it sounds funny, and uh, she felt jealous that she didn’t have one for me—”

“I don’t know if jealous is the word—” “So Inky just became the call n’ response. Cause, cause squid ink?”

“Yeah, I’m not fuckin’ stupid. I can do two plus two, Chip.” Richie tucks his hands in his pockets. It’s starting to get a little chilly. You’re now remembering you left Carmen’s jacket at expo. Goddammit, now you’re remembering Carmen and your heart hurts again. You hug your shoulders.

“What’s Chip, anyways?” Syd asks, you and Richie both cringe, just slightly. Syd mimics it. “Bad?”

You shrug, “Just… It takes a lot, to explain, I guess.” Personal. “We’ll need a trip to Denny’s, for that one.”

“So? Let’s go.”

What did you just say. “Bitch—”

“Heard.” Syd cuts you off, laughing. She gives you a tight hug. “Text me when you get home.”

You hug her back, even tighter, if possible. “I will.”

“I’m glad you’re back.” It’s been three years, since you were really daily friends with Syd. And though you clicked right back into place no problem, in this hug, the feeling really starts to set in of how much you two needed each other this whole time. It’s been so long since you both had a best friend. It was good to be apart, and learn things apart, but now you’re both back. It’s not just Richie that you returned to.

“I’m glad I’m back, too.” You clap her back a few times, before letting go. “Alright, it’s been like ten fucking minutes, go be great. Get a star. Or a chance at a chance for a star.”

“Heard, Chip.” “Heard, Ink.”

One last hug from Richie, before they head back in, and you pop in your car, and drive off. Back home. Music blasts from your radio the entire ride, to keep you from thinking. Screaming along to diss tracks help soothe the soul in any scenario, you think. Won’t let anything hit, this way.

A stray cat, the stray cat, the one you feed on your fire escape, is surprise surprise, on your fire escape, when you get home. She’s (you think she’s a she, you’re not super sure how to check, you’re a former E.M.T, not a Vet tech.) biting the flowers you potted out there. The flowers Carmen stole for you.

After a quick google check to make sure none of them are poisonous to cats, you let her. Let the cat decide how much of him stays. You dish out a pile of kibble for her on the one black plate Carmen gave you. You leave it on the fire escape, long after she finishes. Let the elements decide if it gets ruined.

Let Carmen breaking your text streak, never sending you a belated Connections result tonight, decide if this is the end.

This could be the end.

The same picture frame that fell off your wall, just two weeks ago, when you were making the painting for Carmen, falls again. You grumble, picking up the picture frame, setting it on the coffee table. You’ll nail it up properly in the morning. You roll your eyes at the phantom that you’re never certain actually haunts you.  “Mikey, shut the fuck up, this is your fault, y’know…”

You sigh, staring nowhere. The wind blows against your window.  “I guess it's both our faults.”

You drag your feet, walking to your bedroom.

“I know you said I’d be a perfect match for your little brother, but at this point, I’m taking that as a read.”

It was so fun for me, the way y'all were like, ah, i'm sure this'll be so painful when this is resolved next chapter because Carmen will scream at her about it. hahahahahhaha-- You think the least yet most direct bitch of all time was going to actually confront what he was upset about? NO1!!!!!!! WE'VE ONLY GOT MORE QUESTIONS NOW. WHAT THE FUCK CARMEN!!! What's with that Advanced Payment? And I didn't lie bro, go back and read it, Tony did say Nat's brother covered it. Sneaky sneaky....

Oh, also. Y'all thought I would let the freezer fight slide by? Naahhhh, golden moment of television, just delayed the inevitable muhahahahha and got the FAILED MIKEY?!?!?!?! BROOOOOOOO was it as bad as you thought it would be or no? worse? better? lmk

I loved writing Syd and Richie w/ Tony here. I can't believe any of you thought I wouldn't see Richie and Tony's much needed reconciliation through--- If this was a Richie fanfic, 100% this would've been their smooch moment, fr. Also if you're a taylor swift fan, please don't be mad at me i was doing a funny okokokokokok-- (I also just think it means a lot more, if it's something she doesn't want to do, but will, for him)

i know it's technically still 2022 in their universe but tony was in that fucking car ride home listening to fuckin Ain't Shit, HISS, euphoria, Like That, Not Like Us, Not Nice (YOUR MAMA AINT WORTH THE CRACK YOU SMOKE BITCH!!!!!!!) I know she was so heated in there.

We've got a taglist, I'm bad at keeping track of it, but remember if u wanna be added to this silly little thing you need to hand in an essay (more like a cute lil paragraph) tellin' me what you thought! And also ask. Duh. BUT YA GOTTA DO BOTH!~

@anytim3youwant @navs-bhat @whoknowswhoiamtoday @gills-lounge @slut4supersoldiers @sinceweremutual @itsallacotar @catsrdabestsocks101 @popcornpoppin @renaissance-painting @lostinwonderland314 @v0ctin

I am sorry if your tag doesn't work this is why I hate tag lists tumblr always makes me manually type and sometimes it still don't even work...

As always, i'm always so grateful that you've given me your attention with reading, and if you have thoughts, i'd love to hear em! I always read your comments/reblogs too, even if I don't always reply. Adore y'all.

Next Part

[alexnixlsen]

∞

send ∞ to me and i’ll shuffle my itunes and the first six songs will be our muses playlist.

monster mash - bobby pickett

everybody’s free (to wear sunscreen) - quindon tarver

biko - bloc party

cosmic love - florence + the machine (looooove this)

guaglione - perez prado

fourfiveseconds - rihanna, kanye west and paul mccartney

[jungkxook]

—hot boy bummer. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader 

⟶ genre: fuckboy!jungkook / friends with benefits / friends to lovers + smut  

⟶ words: 14,633

⟶ rating: 18+ 

⟶ summary: when jungkook offers you a proposition of just sex, no strings attached, how can you possibly say no? after all, what are best friends for?

⟶ warnings: kind of a crack fic, sprinkle of angst, way too casual conversations mid-sex, jealous jungkook, slight himbo jungkook tbh (he’s kind of a sweet loveable idiot), he also has a big dick oops, man bun and blonde jungkook to feed my fantasies!, multiple smut scenes!!!, missionary, dry humping, oral sex (m receiving), face fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation (mostly jungkook hating himself), brief name calling, light choking, sort of praise kink

⟶ note: this was inspired by a number of things but mainly do me by kim petras being on jungkook’s spotify playlist, this tiktok sound, and this tumblr post lol also big thank you to @bratkook​ and @onherwings​ for letting me ramble on about this fic and reigniting my inspo for it 💛

( p.s. i tried to proofread this but if y’all see any typos no u didn’t, thank u <3 )

Being friends with Jungkook meant a myriad of things but mainly that there were hardly ever any boundaries that stood between you and him.

Having known him for most of your life, it was just a quintessential part of yours and his relationship with one another. From high school parties where you drunkenly spewed on his shoes and in his dad’s car after he tried lugging you home (and taking the fall all himself for your sake) to letting him lose his virginity in your bed to some girl you didn’t know because your parents were out of town and his would crucify him on the spot if they had found out; or him discovering your stash of vibrators in your dorm one day, or seeing each other naked more often than was probably necessary, there was nothing that either of you could do that would phase the other at this point even when it maybe, probably, definitely should.

College, and Jungkook’s sudden six pack of hard rock abs, only seemed to amplify the chaos of your friendship. If you’re being honest, the abs are sort of a plus ━ but they brought an air of fuckboy to him that is undeniably there even if he tries to deny it sometimes. You suppose it isn’t all his fault. Jungkook has always been bold and brash, attractively charming. Considering he’s seemingly made it his mission to sleep with every girl on campus before he graduates (undisclosed, if you’re being honest, because he’s never outwardly admitted it but you have a hunch), his confidence somehow hasn’t failed him yet.

But then there’s one night in which you think to yourself briefly: this surely must draw some sort of line.

“What if we, like, had sex?”

Jungkook says this a little too casually from beside you. He’s sat on the couch in his dorm, scrolling aimlessly on his phone, and you’re sprawled out on the remaining space, feet kicked up in his lap. You’re positive he’s drunk but, then again, so are you. The remnant shot glasses of soju you had both started the night with (though you think Jungkook’s had half the bottle himself), and your second glass of wine, are all evidence of that. You’re so absorbed by some anime Jungkook had been watching upon your arrival and refused to change that you almost don’t hear what he says. Almost. You do, however, nearly choke on the gummy bear you’ve just tossed into your mouth.

After a sudden hysterical fit of coughs, you manage to sputter, “Excuse me?”

“Like, hypothetically speaking.” He hardly budges when you turn to gawk at him, as if he’s asking you something as casual as what to eat for dinner or if you could pass him the T.V. remote. “Except, not really hypothetically.”

“You’re joking, right?” You scoff.

Jungkook blinks. “No. Why would I be joking?”

You blink. The longer you stare at him, the quicker you’re able to discern that there’s some sort of earnesty in his words and it slightly concerns you. Suddenly, you’re warm in the face. To distract from that painfully obvious fact, an incredulous laugh bubbles at your lips and you kick one of your feet at his thighs. “Very funny, Koo. Can we change the show now if you’re not even watching it?”

“I’m not joking, Y/N.” The severity in his tone makes you sit up at once. When you turn to look at him, he flashes you a taunting smirk, though the devious sparkle in his eyes lets you know this seems to be anything but a joke to him. “I’m sure you’ve thought of me naked before.”

“You’re such a fucking idiot━” Okay, so maybe you have thought of him naked before but how is it your fault when you literally have seen him naked before, and he’s so unabashed around you? “Should I bring you to a hospital to get your head checked, or━?”

“Just hear me out━” Now, he pushes himself to the edge of the sofa. “Why are you here right now?”

“In life? Because I honestly have no clue━”

“No, I meant here. Getting drunk in my apartment on a Friday night instead of getting railed.”

“Okay, I didn’t ask to get called out like that,” You grumble stiffly. “And because you’re my best friend, and I like spending time with you.” It’s not entirely a lie, because you would much rather spend time with Jungkook than anyone else. But when you feel his eyes boring into you in a look of scrutiny, your lips form into a pout which you try to hide by puckering them. “Also because boys are stupid and Hoseok’s blind date stood me up. Again.”

The events from hours earlier resurface in your memory, in which you had spent all evening making yourself look pretty for a boy you had only talked to through text that your roommate had introduced you to, only to arrive to the restaurant you were supposed to be meeting at and waiting there for half an hour by yourself before the boy had sent you a message saying something along the lines of “something came up, hope we can reschedule,” filing it under one of the lamest excuses you’ve ever heard because it hardly even borders on a valid excuse. It’s what had ultimately made you storm into Jungkook’s apartment an hour ago, exclaiming aloud as a greeting with a simple yet scarily cheerful I hate men! because Jungkook knows all about your plights with finding a significant other (or even just someone decent enough to open your legs to), usually lamenting men’s inability to have any emotions. Even the ones who you think are respectable enough, who say they’re fine not having sex on the first date, usually tend to flee right after you finally let them in because sex, as you come to find, seems to be all that men care about.

Admittedly, Jungkook is not any different.

“But it’s not like you’re any better.”

This seems to personally offend Jungkook. He looks at you cynically. “Me?”

“Tell me why you’re here with me on a Friday night when you’re literally one of the hottest guys on campus,” You point out. “You can get any girl, and yet you somehow manage to ruin it every single time. Like with Eunha.”

Jungkook winces. The poor Eunha in question is a pretty girl from your chem class, whomst Jungkook had somehow managed to charm. From what you know, they had hooked up a handful of times before that fateful night in which Jungkook had abruptly broken things off with her. If you’re being honest, he’s not a total monster. The only thing that seems to scare him away is when a girl asks to cuddle him in the morning or talks about the prospective future together. He doesn’t want to hurt them, he told you once before, and finds it much easier to nip any potential relationship in the bud before it can get too far, too out of control.

“We literally only slept together three times anyway and we never went out,” Jungkook points out. “What’s the big deal?”

A roll of your eyes doesn’t go unnoticed by Jungkook. “Yeah, it’s not her fault you’re scared of commitment.”

“Nu’uh,” The boy sulks. “I’m only scared of realistic things, like microwaves.”

A snort bubbles at your lips, and it’s frustrating how adorable he finds the simple action. Rather than entertain the thought of his irrational fear of kitchen appliances (because you’ve heard it all before, and you still can’t find where he was incited with the terror of an exploding microwave), you sit up.

“Jungkook, I don’t even like you like that.”

“I don’t like you like that either. That’s why it’s so perfect!” Jungkook says brightly. “Look, we know each other better than anyone else ever could. We’re already comfortable with each other. We don’t have to go through all that boring small talk. All I’m saying is we could give it a try. No relationship, no emotions, just sex.”

You consider the thought for a moment, weigh the pros and cons in your head.

The cons? He’s your best friend.

The pros? He’s your best friend, and he’s hot.

Truthfully, your slightly buzzed mind can find very little to dissuade you away from the inviting proposition and maybe that’s why you begin to entertain the idea. And, sure, you had just complained profusely about how men sometimes only used you for sex, but it’s not like you don’t have needs too. You just don’t have the gusto in you anymore to spend days on a boy who will only just leave you the moment you let him have sex with you. At least with Jungkook, he’s already offering you a blatant deal of sex only and you know you won’t have to worry about him breaking your heart; and he doesn’t have to worry about the dreaded dreamy post-sex cuddle talk of a future family and babies and a white picket-fence home. It’s a win-win for the both of you, really. Or maybe you’re just telling yourself that.

“How would we even start?” You ask finally. “I mean… Do you even find me attractive enough in that way?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook hardly bats a lash. He meets your stare, licks slowly at his lower lip. When he sees the cross look of disbelief scrunching at your face, he hastens to respond. “I’m not blind. You’re fucking drop dead gorgeous, Y/N.”

“But physically attractive? I’m no hot girl Eunha.”

“If I wanted Eunha, I’d be between her legs right now. Y/N, of course I think you’re attractive.” A gentle sliver of a smile dances upon his lips. He leans his head on the back of the couch, eyes fluttering over your appearance shortly. “I’ve always liked your lips, and your eyes. Think they’re beautiful.”

Suddenly, you’re flustered again. The room feels as if it’s getting increasingly warmer, yet you seem to want to bask in the feeling and attention a little longer. “That’s too sentimental.”

“It’s true though.”

“Well, you’re lucky I’ve always had a thing for idiots,” You jest playfully. “Jerks, too. Playboys who are too hot for their own good.”

“Ah, and I love it when you talk dirty to me.” A cheeky grin tugs at his lips as he clutches at his heart over his chest. “It’s a good thing I like it a little too much, knowing you’ll always keep me in check.”

But then the mirth seems to fade from your mind long enough for you to hum aloud pensively, “And I’ve always liked your eyes. I’ve never seen such big eyes before. Sometimes, if I look long enough, it’s like I can see the stars in them.”

As you’re speaking about them, his irises glisten magnificently. He bites at his lip now, as if to hide the way his soft smile turns sheepish. “I like your bum.”

“Really? I always worry it’s too flat.”

“Are you kidding? Your ass is a fucking god-send. It’s hard not to stare when you wear leggings sometimes,” Jungkook admits, earning a small giggle from you. “And I like your boobs. I’ve always wondered…” He trails off abruptly, shaking his head. He shoots you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop. I’m being an idiot, aren’t I?”

“Well, maybe I don’t want you to stop.”

Silence saturates the room now, settling comfortably between the two of you. He wonders what you’re thinking, and you wonder if he can hear your heart hammering against your chest. Perhaps on any other day when you were of sound mind, you could find a plethora of reasons as to why sleeping with your best friend was a terrible idea. But being that you were slightly tipsy, and Jungkook isn’t far off, you can find not one fault, except for maybe how tragically hot Jungkook looks sitting across from you and how he’s never been yours, at least in that way. Would it be so wrong to try just once?

You shift then, pushing yourself to your knees if only so you can worm your way towards him before swinging one leg over his. You settle back on his lap, hands gripping his shoulders. He can feel your core press against the inside of his thigh, just where his dick is nestled and he has to bite back a moan. His eyes are wider than usual, as if believing the moment to be surreal, though something sultry threatens to darken them.

“Y/N…”

The excitement crackles through your veins like electricity. You’ve never been in such a compromising position with Jungkook before, and you wonder if it should be concerning just how much you’re enjoying it. It almost feels as if time slows down, every second dragging on, yet he can’t look away. His hands come to tug at your hoodie (that he’s almost positive was his once upon a time before you nicked it from his closet) and you meet him part way, replacing his efforts as you pull it up and off your body. Then, you’re sitting back on his lap in your full nude glory, chest bare and right in his face. He eyes the swell of your breasts, the perk of your nipples. Of course you’re not wearing anything beneath your hoodie ━ and, god, he loves it.

“Touch me?”

Your voice comes to him in an almost dream. You reach for his hand then, your palm soft around his knuckles and the tattoos that ink his skin. It’s the same hand of which he wears the other half to your pair of friendship bracelets in one of his favourite colours of red, decorated with little pink hearts. It came in a matching set of two (yours in your own favourite colour, currently on the wrist of the hand you’re using to guide Jungkook’s), cute little macrame braid ones with hearts woven into the design that you had pointed out one day while you were both at the mall and he had bought without any hesitation mostly as a joke but resulted in both of you wearing them on a daily basis.

Now, all he can do is continue watching you with bated breath as you guide his hand right where you both want him. He comes to cup the underside of one of your breasts, your hand over his pressing his fingers tighter together until you can feel some sort of pleasant pressure. And, just like that, something feral and needy seems to snap within him. His hand slithers from your grasp if only so he can flick his thumb across your nipple, mesmerized by the softness of it. He’s only ever seen you naked once before and it was fleeting. You were both drunk, skinny dipping in a lake with a handful of other friends, but it had been too dark to notice much else. But now? Now, he can see all of you and the sight strikes a chord right down to his dick.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” Jungkook groans.

“Koo.” The cute little nickname you had given him sounds dirty now as it slips from your lips in a moan. “Too sentimental.”

But Jungkook isn’t listening because you really, really, really are so beautiful. He bows his head to your chest, catching one of your nipples in his mouth. He murmurs something against your chest that sounds akin to, “We can take things slow.”

“Slow…” Your head is spinning, but it’s a delightful sensation. Something hard pokes against your ass now, and the adrenaline only seems to build within you. It’s odd how everything feels so foreign ━ exploring his body and these newfound feelings like the uncharted territory it is ━ yet secure and safe at the same time. As if you know what to do next, where to touch next, how to move, your bodies almost fitting together like pieces to a puzzle. “Y-Yeah, I like that. Can I move?”

“Fuck, yes, please,” he growls. He’s much too busy nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin on your chest, teeth tugging at your nipple.

You hurry to obey, giving a small experimental swivel of your hips that almost immediately has the both of your inhaling a sharp breath of air. His dick strains against his sweatpants, the material doing very little in protecting him against you. Your core throbs as you rub yourself on him.

“Like this?” You rasp.

“Yeah, just like that.” Jungkook’s head rolls back onto the couch, his eyes squeezing shut and his blonde hair spilling into his eyes. He clenches his jaw, the nerves fluttering in the corner, as pure euphoria riddles his features. You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything so sexy. “Fuck, we probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

“Yeah,” You agree, breathless. “Do you wanna stop?”

“No. Do you?”

“No.”

“Thank god.” The sigh of relief that emits from Jungkook startles even him but, in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t register how any of this could be a mistake. “Ah, shit━ Faster━”

“Mmm, Koo━” You whimper as you quicken your pace, the vulgar harbored thought of his dick in you thrilling you to no end.

“Fuuck, I’ve never heard you sound like this before. So needy, so desperate,” Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into your hips. And it’s all because of him, the way you’re feeling. He’s never wanted to hurry to please you faster, itching to tear you apart if he’ll get to hear those noises from you again and again. “I━”

He’s gonna cum, and he’s not even in your pussy. What’s gotten into him?  

He presses you a little harsher against his dick, sitting up straighter so that his chest is pressed flush against yours. He leans forward, lips chasing after yours, before you pull back just enough sluggishly to press your finger to his mouth.

“Uh uh. No kissing,” You rasp.

The words process in Jungkook’s head, but the weight of them don’t seem to linger in his daze. He’s far too overwhelmed by you and the way you’re making him feel to even begin to try to decipher why you avoid his mouth and so, for now, he doesn’t care. Instead, he buries his face in the crook of your neck, nose nuzzling against your throat. You clutch at his hair, tugging at the roots tight enough for him to moan.

“Nnngh, Jungkook━” You whine. “I’m gonna━ Oh, fuck, Koo━”

And then you’re unravelling, right in his very arms. He holds you close as you tremble and shake, rutting your hips sloppily against his to ride out your high, and Jungkook thinks he can definitely get used to this. The familiar burn forms in his stomach and, without even thinking of it, he comes in the confinements of his pants.

But in the heat of the moment, he doesn’t notice quite a lot of things. Neither do you.

So, maybe you could both find a hundred and one reasons why having sex with your best friend would surely cross some lines, but the thing with you and Jungkook (and what would eventually blossom into a hubristic relationship of sorts) is that it wasn’t just sex. You would always be comfortable around him, as he would be with you. And nothing could ever possibly get weird between the two of you ━ not when you had both made a promise to each other that it wouldn’t get in the way of your friendship.

Because ━ while, yeah, he’s hot and suffers from fuckboy tendencies from time-to-time and, aside from random late night hookups ━ he was still the same boy that would drag you out at three in the morning to drive to the next city over for a bowl of ramen, who would marathon shows as long as One Piece or Game of Thrones with you, watching as much as you can in one all-nighter; who would come to your dorm, no matter the time of day, the moment you said you were sick or suffering from cramps, piled high with your favourite snacks; who shared a repertoire of silly inside jokes with you that never made any sense to anyone but the both of you; who insisted you both wear friendship bracelets even in college. He would always be an angel to you, treat you well, because you meant that much to him.

A small thought in the back of Jungkook’s head wonders, above all else, if you were anyone different, would he have even bothered suggesting such a ludicrous idea, drunk or not?

Because he’s positive no one else could make him cum in his pants like a horny prepubescent teen ━ no one except for you.

“If we’re really gonna do this, we need to set some ground rules.”

Admittedly, neither you nor Jungkook knew what would happen after Jungkook’s proposition to you. Maybe you were expecting the two of you to pretend as if nothing had ever happened, or laugh it off as something so inconsequential that neither of you should bother worrying about it. Instead, the very next day, you find that you’re back in Jungkook’s dorm. Only this time, you’re in his bed, and he spent the past half hour sufficiently eating you out.

Now, you’ve had an epiphany in the form of Jungkook’s dick, and that is that it’s big.

You’ve seen it before on occasion ━ like when he streaked nude across campus as a dare or when he needed to use your shower because his apartment was under maintenance and he walked out on you in the living room ━ but this is clearly a very different circumstance. All red, swollen, angry tip wet and glistening with precum. You had to brace yourself as he pushed himself into you, cautiously and slowly, enjoying the way you stretch to fit around him. If you had a drunken excuse the night before for loving the thought of getting off with Jungkook, then you surely don’t have one now. It’s a shameless guilty pleasure, you think, that he’s at least indulging in.

“Rules,” Jungkook scoffs now. “You’re such a nerd. Fuck, you feel so fucking good━ You doing okay?”

More than. Your head lolls back against his pillow, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head. “Mhm.”

“Want a minute?”

“Maybe.”

Jungkook pauses without any hesitation, gnawing on his lower lip as your walls clench around him so tightly he feels he might fall apart then and there. His hands are on your hips, thumbs rubbing comforting circles against your burning skin. A few deep breaths later and you’re probing Jungkook to move again. His hips rut into yours at a leisure pace, and he marvels for a moment at the way his dick disappears into your pussy, slick and wet with your own arousal. The thought of being in you ━ of finally feeling your walls wrapped around him, all wet and snug ━ is enough to make him bust then and there, but he refrains miraculously.

“Holy fuck,” You groan. “Why are you so big━”

Your voice cuts off into a delightful whimper, walls aching around him. Jungkook snorts, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. “Nothing sexier than hearing you stroke my ego.”

“Don’t let it get to your already big head,” You retort sluggishly.

“Big head!” he grumbles against your throat, lips brushing faintly against your skin and sending shivers down your spine. “Insult me some more. You know how it gets me going.”

“Oh my god, shut up. Where were we?”

“Rules.”

“Right,” You breathe in a sharp inhale of air as he grinds against your hips. “And rule number one is no kissing. That’s way too intimate.”

Jungkook quirks a brow. “How is kissing more intimate than having my dick in you?”

“It just is.” You refuse to tell him the truth. You poke your fingers at his sides, causing him to jerk against you. “Don’t question it.”

“Fine. Then no sentimental shit in general, like cuddling or pet names,” Jungkook retorts. “And no public displays of affection.”

“Okay,” You nod. “Fuck, Jungkook━”

“God, I love hearing you moan my name,” Jungkook grunts. He watches with fascination the way your face reacts at his every movement. “Too much?”

“No. Kinda hot,” You admit. An abrupt thought pops into your head that has you murmuring hazily, “Oh, and you can’t have sex with me to your sex playlist.”

Jungkook looks appalled. The sex playlist in question is one you’ve heard briefly before, if only because you’ve walked in on Jungkook and his flavour of the month a handful of times one too many times.

“So you’re telling me you don’t want to have the best orgasm of your life to The Weeknd or the Neighbourhood? WAP?” Jungkook asks, wriggling his brows suggestively. “Alanis Morissette?” You have less than half a second to register the 90s pop singer as out of place before Jungkook breaks out into song with a brief rendition of Head over Feet. “You’re my best friend, best friend with benefits━!”

Part of you knows he’s joking, but there’s still a small sliver of you that makes you gawk at him dubiously before dissolving into a fit of unabashed laughter. It rumbles against his chest, vibrates his dick in you. “You’re not serious, are you? That’s not actually in your sex playlist, is it?”

He flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Guess you’ll never know now.”

Another roll of your eyes makes him snicker. He’s gotten used to your snide remarks, but he’ll gladly keep suffering under them if he gets to wipe that taunting smirk off your face each time with the way his dick makes you feel. You cling a little tighter to his shoulders and muse aloud, “So that’s it then?”

“Yeah━” Jungkook knows you’re referring to the rules and your plan, although it’s getting harder to focus on talking as he continues to grind against you. “And nothing has to change between us, even if we stop. We’re still just two best friends.”

“Yup.”

“Who have sex from time to time.”

“Yeah.”

He can’t help himself. He tries again. “Who might kiss.”

“Nope.” You’re smiling even despite the way you shoot him an aggravated stare first.

“We might?”

“No, we definitely won’t.”

Worth a shot, he thinks to himself. At least you really do always keep him in check.

After all, what are best friends for?

So, maybe a part of you thought the shift in your relationship with Jungkook wouldn’t last very long. A week at most, and maybe Hoseok would find you another pointless let down of a blind date to go on and Jungkook would get horny for some other girl ━ but it’s certainly been more than a week now, and you’ve had sex with him more than two times.

A third, and a fourth, if you’re being blatantly honest, and maybe a few more times after that but you don’t really remember what count you’re both on now which should probably be concerning. Days elapse into days, which turn to weeks, then months. Morning, afternoon, and night.

It’s not as if you hadn’t already spent almost every waking moment with Jungkook but now you had a reason to be at his apartment at any and all hours of the day and not solely for movie watching marathons. You’re positive he’s still having his occasional random flings, though you’re fortunate his commitment issues at least force him to go to their homes rather than his for the most part, so you never really have to witness half-naked girls stumbling out of his apartment just as you’re wandering in. He says it has something to do with how his bedroom is his sacred space, though you think it’s more like he wouldn’t want his hook ups discovering his Overwatch figurines or something (because, before Jungkook’s proposition, you’ve walked in on him once and a girl when they were entangled on the couch in his living room).

But you’ve noticed lately you’re getting too comfortable with your arrangement with Jungkook; too comfortable knowing he’ll be there at the end of a long day to greet you, to please you until you’re crying out his name. Sometimes he tells you about the girls he’s texting, or shows you a picture from a hot girl’s Instagram whose D.M.s he’s just slid into. And sometimes you’re left wondering how often he comes straight to you after hooking up with a random girl.

It shouldn’t matter to you, and you swear that it doesn’t.

Maybe you’re just overthinking things. Hoseok certainly seems to think so, but his judgement wasn’t much to go by.

Because, lately, Hoseok has been encouraging you more and more to give Yukhei (the blind date Hoseok had initially set you up with when you found yourself at Jungkook’s) another chance for two reasons: 1) “Yukhei’s a nice boy,” he had cheerfully reminded you, “he’ll treat you well,” and 2) “Stop fucking your best friend. It’s morally wrong.”

There were many things wrong with his statement, from the fact that you didn’t exactly consider standing up a date as “nice” and that you were also still begrudgingly lamenting the way Hoseok had discovered your recent fling with Jungkook (although, you weren’t being very inconspicuous, having shower sex with Jungkook early one morning when you were certain Hoseok would be spending the day at his fiance’s home instead of yours).

But then you meet Yukhei and you realize that, oh crap, he’s cute. And he’s nice.

As it turns out, after bumping into him one day when you’re with Hoseok lounging on the quad of your campus and he comes bounding over to return a textbook Hoseok had lent him for a specific class, Yukhei is so easily charming. He also gives a pretty valid excuse for flaking on your date, proving that he had to present his dissertation, making you clearly aware that he’s cute, nice, and smart. Jungkook, on the other hand, doesn’t see the appeal, yet his curiosity and intrigue seems to get the best of him.

“So that was your blind date?” Jungkook asks after grabbing your attention on the quad and stealing you away from Hoseok and Yukhei. “Yukhei?”

“You know him?”

“Seen him around,” Jungkook shrugs nonchalantly. “I’ve never really talked to him. But him? You’re not telling me you’re actually interested in him, are you?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” You’re truly just as clueless about your feelings towards Yukhei as Jungkook seems to be. “What’s so wrong about him?”

“He’s━” Jungkook stops. He shakes his head. “Heard he’s got a small dick anyway.”

You shoot the boy a wary look, only to find him grinning deviously at himself. “Maybe he just wants to be friends.”

At this, Jungkook lets out a scoffing sound that borders on disbelieving laughter. “No, I definitely think he wants to have sex with you in his Toyota Camry, Y/N, but what do I know?”

“You’re not jealous, are you?”

“No, why would I be jealous?”

You can’t quite tell if he’s angry or not but, then again, why would he be? As far as either of you are concerned, there’s nothing to be jealous of.

So then why does it feel like he’s simply just telling himself that?

“Are you seriously on your phone right now?”

Jungkook asks this from somewhere behind you a handful of days later, a little peeved but most likely because your jarring 8:00 a.m. alarm had roused the both of you violently awake. In his defense, Jungkook is not a morning person.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” You’re currently sprawled out on your hands and knees on his bed, phone still in your grasp after having plucked it off the nightstand in haste. Your clothes are scattered across the floor of his room, remnant clues of the night before when he had beckoned you over after hours, and your body is covered in nothing but hickeys and an unbuttoned blue flannel belonging to Jungkook that you had chucked on last night that does nothing in covering up the swell of your breasts which Jungkook is now currently eyeing. “Am I not giving you enough attention? Were you expecting cuddles or something? Thought that wasn’t in the rules.”

“No,” Jungkook huffs. He runs a hand through his long messy hair in an attempt to fix it; he ultimately gives up taming his locks, instead using the hair tie around his wrist to tie his hair back into a cute yet sexy little ponytail. As he does so, you notice the red friendship bracelet around his wrist and smile smally. “But my dick could use some cuddles. Preferably with your mouth, but it will also gladly accept your hand.”

Jungkook may not be a morning person but, as you’ve come to realize, his dick certainly is.

It’s painfully obvious too, his hardened length straining against the gray sweatpants he had thrown on at some point. And, god, did he have to wear those? It left little to the imagination, the outline of his length teasing you just enough.

“I should get going,” You say. “I have a test coming up. There’s supposed to be a review session today in class, and I don’t want to miss it.”

“Well, you don’t seem like you’re in a rush since you’re still on your phone,” Jungkook points out. “Who are you texting anyway? Yukhei?”

“Anger is an emotion,” You rebuke casually. “So is jealousy.”

Jungkook feigns a look of mock hurt. “I’m not angry or jealous! I’m needy.”

Still, Jungkook reaches out to swiftly pluck your phone from your hands.

“Jungkook━!”

He’s pressed up against your back in an instant, his dick hard against your ass, and he doesn’t move very far even when you twist in your spot in an attempt to grab your phone back. You don’t, and instead you end up on your back with him on his side, propped up on his elbow. You miss when he casts a swift gaze down at your phone, only to see that Yukhei’s chat messages are indeed open, and something seems to gnaw terribly at his gut before he tosses your phone to the side. He’s looking at you now with those big beautiful eyes of his, and you hate it.

“Please?” he beckons. He ruts his hips impatiently but slowly against your leg. He drops his head to bury his face in the crook of your neck, lips dangerously close to brushing against your flesh but he refrains somehow. “M’so hard right now, could probably bust the moment you touch me.”

The thought is tempting, having a helpless Jungkook cumming in your hands. The sight alone has quickly become your favourite thing, helping the frustrated boy get off. Besides, you’re certain you could ask Hoseok for the review notes.

Fuck it, you cave.

You fidget until you’ve pressed him back against the bed and have clambered on top of him, wiggling your way down to fit between his legs. Jungkook is watching you now with a half-asleep expression, though his teeth sink into his lower lip as you pull at his sweatpants until they’re down at his thighs, letting his swollen dick spring free.

“You know━” You hum. You reach out to grab at the base of his cock. “Yukhei wants to hang out, and Hoseok keeps telling me to give it a shot.”

That much is true. Part of you wants to say yes, if only because Yukhei seems promising enough, but the thought alone is enough for you to feel as if you’ve done something horribly wrong to Jungkook.

“Oh.” The word eclipses Jungkook’s mouth in a shallow breath of air. Then, your mouth wraps around the puffy head of his dick, shining with leaking precum that you swallow back, and Jungkook’s reaction is immediate. Head thrown back, face scrunching together, muscles in his toned abdomen flexing as he seizes and grunts aloud. “Oh, fuck━ Well… Are you gonna?”

Jungkook asks the last question with much difficulty, and a part of him thinks it doesn’t all have to do with how you’re making him feel.

“Dunno.” You snort around his dick, and he marvels at how adorable such a lewd action can seem.

You decide to focus on sucking him off because it truly is a sexy sight to see, letting the topic of Yukhei drop. Jungkook certainly doesn’t mind. As you swirl your tongue around his tip and reach up with your free hand to fondle at his balls, his long hair falls into his lashes but he still tries to find you past his wild locks, hooded eyes gazing down at you.  

“Ah, shit━” Jungkook hisses delightfully, hips jerking forward instinctively into your mouth. The faintest hints of a drowsy smirk tug at his lips. “Fuck, yes, just like that.”

Yeah, you think to yourself then, you’re definitely going to ride him later. Screw going to class.

From: Jungkook Sent: 1:05 a.m.

bro i noticed u werent wearing our friendship bracelet while u were giving me head earlier. is everything ok??

You wake in the morning to a single text from Jungkook ━ and one you had not been expecting.

That’s not to say that getting the occasional text message from Jungkook at any and all hours of the day was abnormal, but the extent of his messages sent anywhere past midnight usually always range from something more coherent in the form of “what would u do if i was there rn?” to something exuding typical lazy Jungkook manner with a simple “dtf?” or “send noods lol” to something even more provocatively cryptic such as the eggplant and splashing water (or, as far as Jungkook is concerned, something else entirely) emojis and nothing else, left open for your own interpretation that typically, usually, without a doubt, results in you in his bed and his dick in you. But this seems to be something else entirely.

Unfortunately, Jungkook’s text isn’t the only concern of yours.

Hoseok has spent the better part of the morning giving you a lecture on why having sex with your best friend is bad. He seems so passionate about the topic that you’re certain he would have pulled out a powerpoint at any moment, each slide ending in a picture of Yukhei and why you should maybe try fucking him instead, if you entertained the idea a little longer. Hoseok claims it’s just a harmless date. Yukhei might be a nice boy, but you don’t know how you feel about him. You don’t want to lead him on, and a scary thought points out the fact that maybe, while Yukhei is a nice boy, he isn’t Jungkook.

“I don’t get why you don’t just give Yukhei a chance━” Hoseok is saying now, sat on the couch in your shared apartment with him. “It’s not like you have to marry him. I don’t think one date will hurt━ Aaand, you’re not even listening to me anymore, are you?”

The sheepish look on your face is enough of an answer for him. You’ve been anxiously eyeing your phone and the text Jungkook had sent you last that you’ve yet to respond to, even despite being awake for more than a few hours now.

“Yes, I am listening,” You say dismissively. “Something about how one date won’t hurt, but that’s what you said when Yoongi asked you out, and you’re literally engaged now.”

The glistening metallic ring on Hoseok’s finger is evidence enough. The boy looks down at it as if seeing it for the first time, purses his lips, and then nods in agreement. “Okay, yeah, maybe you’re right. But you’re holding out for Jungkook and for what? He’s hot, yeah, and he’s your best friend, sure, but at the end of the day he’s still just a horny male who wants to stick his dick in anything that moves.”

“Hoseok.” Your grumbling sigh is interrupted by the motion of your phone vibrating against your thigh once more. You peek at the screen fleetingly to see a new text.

From: Jungkook Sent: 2:35 p.m.

send n00ds?

miss ur tits :(

Typical Jungkook.

The text from the night before is all but seemingly forgotten from his mind, and you can’t quite tell if you’re devastated or relieved. You don’t have very long to discern which emotion you’re feeling when Hoseok snatches your phone to look at what’s gotten your attention before exclaiming suddenly, “Aha! See! What did I say?”

“It’s not like that,” You wave Hoseok off. “Jungkook treats me well. He respects me, and I’m comfortable with him.”

“And how long until whatever this is━” He gestures vaguely to your phone as if to point out your relationship with Jungkook, “has to end? Do you really think a pinky promise is going to make sure your friendship with him isn’t totally ruined? I mean, how can you continue being casual friends with someone, see them dating someone else, when they’ve had their dick in you?”

You know it makes sense. Realistically, you either stop sleeping with each other or it potentially develops into something more. But in both circumstances, what were the chances that either of you didn’t get your heart broken? Maybe a part of you was apprehensive of Jungkook finding the “right” person for him one day that has him ending things with you, and while you swear you’d be happy for him, relationships sometimes have a way of distracting people from those already around them. Were you prepared to have someone take him away from you, platonically and whatever it is else that you have with him? Did you really think you could just keep being friends with him, as if nothing ever occurred between you two?

You don’t think Jungkook is bothered worrying about the state of your friendship with him, much less overthinking it like you seem to be. It shouldn’t be a big deal ━ yet why was there still that terrible nagging voice in the back of your mind? Whether or not Hoseok is right, you don’t want to find out. You don’t have feelings for Jungkook anyway.

But your ability to bend at his every will is certainly interesting.

You grab your phone before Hoseok can do any serious damage like unlocking it and responding to Jungkook, clutching it to your chest as you start to cross the living room. The other boy looks at you in bewilderment. “Where are you going now?”

“Where does it look?” You call over your shoulder just before you disappear into the bathroom, and Hoseok deduces all at once that you’re truly a lost cause. “I need to send him a picture of my boobs.”

“He’s totally into you, Y/N.”

Admittedly, there were many mundane but essentially weird things you’ve talked to Jungkook about while having sex. You’ve had many heated debates about everything under the sun from whether or not pineapple on pizza should be illegal to top five betrayals in either movies or animes, to passionate grand philosophical discussions about what exists outside of the universe.

It’s not as if you had been planning on talking about Yukhei to Jungkook when he had invited you over to his apartment late at night after sending your risqué boob picture to him but, like many things in your friendship with Jungkook, it sort of just happened. He had asked you how your day was and you had decided to broach the topic experimentally, though you think deep down you’re doing it on purpose to see if he’d react in any way. What started with you mentioning Hoseok’s adamance and you sort of genuinely asking Jungkook for advice on Yukhei somehow evolved into Jungkook interrogating you on whether or not you’ve hung out with him yet.

“Jungkook. You’re getting off topic,” You admonish him now, as if your own choice of topic is any better when his dick is currently in you.

Jungkook is wedged between your thighs smushed up against your chest, large palms holding you on your ribcage in place beneath him. He’s a comfortable heavy draped over top of you, cock stretching you wide. You can feel his heart hammering against yours and he’s slick with sweat, golden hair clinging to his forehead and in his pretty eyes. You resist the urge to reach out and brush the messy locks away but, again, how would that be any less intimate of an action than what you’re already doing? Another line uncrossed, you suppose.

“How am I off topic?” Jungkook retorts. “You literally just said you can’t tell if he’s into you but he dropped by when you were done class and bought you lunch. You don’t just do that for a girl you don’t care that much about.”

“You buy me lunch, like, every day,” You point out.

“Because you’re my best friend. Of course I care about you,” Jungkook says.

“Ah, Jungkook━” You curse suddenly, grabbing his attention when you shift your weight beneath him. “You’re crushing me. Why’d you stop moving?”

He doesn’t have an answer, if only because he hadn’t even realized he’d stop moving in the first place. Without hesitation, he continues leisurely rutting his hips against yours, grabbing at one of your legs to hook it around his waist. This new angle lets you feel even more of him as he sinks further into you, if that was even still possible, reaching so far into you that you swear it’s like you can feel him in your stomach. Your head lolls back against the pillows, pure euphoria contorting your face so much so to the point that it distracts you entirely from the distant look glazing over Jungkook’s eyes.

“Yukhei definitely wants to bang,” he huffs under his breath.

At once, an exasperated groan fills his ears.

“I can’t believe we’re seriously having this conversation right now,” You roll your eyes, fingers prodding at his sides. “I don’t wanna talk about Yukhei potentially wanting to have sex with me.”

Jungkook’s glad you said it, at least. Though now he’s watching you with hooded eyes as he thrusts into you a little harder, maybe a little intentionally. His indulgent gaze droops to your breasts, admiring the way they bounce beneath him each time his hips make contact with yours. He thinks back earlier in the day to the picture you had sent him which, really, had sparked the mood for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he whines abruptly. His eyes screw shut and brows furrow together as your walls clench around him. He drops his head to bury his face in your chest, lips momentarily wrapping around one of your nipples as he sucks harshly at the soft flesh. When he speaks next, forehead still resting against your collarbones, his voice is a breathless croak, “Well, do you like him?”

“No,” You moan. “Maybe━ Fuck, Koo━ I don’t know.”

“He’s gonna be at that party Tae’s throwing, isn’t he?” Jungkook tries to focus, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to do so when he’s inching closer and closer to his high. “Shit, ah, Y/N━ Why don’t you try talking to him or something? See how the night goes?”

“He’s nice but I don’t think he’s the one for me,” You admit sheepishly. “I think I’m just gonna end things while I still can, with as little harm as possible.”

“Well, glad that’s settled,” Jungkook mumbles. “Can we please stop talking about Yukhei now?”

You seem to miss the way he clings to you a little tighter, hands flying down to grip at your hips, nails digging crescent moon shapes into your skin. He snaps his hips into yours a little faster this time, your pussy throbbing around him.

“Nngh, Jungkook━”

Your hands fumble to grip at his hair, tugging tightly at the roots and earning a delightful hiss from the boy. Your own mouth drops open in a silent moan and it’s a wonder he doesn’t combust at just how sexy the sight is. He hates how his eyes stay trained on the shape of your lips, the soft plumpness of them. He’s felt them wrapped around his dick plenty of times before but he concedes that it’s probably hardly anywhere near to how it would feel to kiss you. Like actually kiss you, tongue and all.

God, what’d he give just to smother your lips with his.

And, god, he hopes you never find out. He’s positive that thought is far more scandalous alone than anything you’ve ever done together.

You’re writhing beneath him now, hips jutting forward desperately to meet his. “I’m gonna cum, Jungkook━”

“Fuck, yes,” Jungkook growls. “Wanna feel you cream around my cock so bad. Come on, baby━”

In the heat of the moment, you seem to miss the pet name that slurs off his tongue and the sentiment in it. A few more jolting slams of his hips and you’re tumbling over the edge. He has to sputter for air when he feels your pussy wrapping so tightly around him, stuttering in his pace above you if only to watch as you unravel beneath him. Hooded dark eyes glazed over in that perfect fucked out expression he loves so much, teeth biting at your lower lip so hard he wonders if it’ll bruise in the morning.

A sudden thought pops into his head when you’ve settled enough, amongst the blinding pure white of bliss that clouds his thoughts. “Did you get my text by the way? The one I sent last night?”

You gasp for air. The bracelet on your wrist itches at the mention of it, and you’re fortunate you decided to wear it that afternoon before coming to Jungkook’s. “Y-Yeah━”

“Well…?”

“Everything’s fine,” You say this as dismissively as you can. Your core is still vibrating after the harsh impact of your orgasm paired with Jungkook’s swollen length still in you. “I just… I was taking a shower and didn’t want to get it wet. I forgot to put it back on in the morning.”

That’s a lie. You had mostly taken it off as part of an experiment, though it hasn’t answered much. At least Jungkook doesn’t seem to realize that.

“Oh,” Jungkook breathes. A beat of silence passes, before he deadpans cockily, “Wait, you were taking a shower and I wasn’t invited?”

“Oh my god, shut up━” Maybe if he hadn’t just currently driven you to nirvana and back, you’d notice the way the sloppy grin on his face is a simple taunt. But you’re much too distracted to care. Instead, you use your leg that’s still hooked around his waist to gently push and roll him onto his back so that you can straddle his hips. His eyes sparkle mischievously as he watches you waste no time in hurrying to grind against him at an agonizingly steady pace that makes his head spin. “You’re ruining the moment. I’m trying to make you cum.”

A devious cackle rumbles from his chest, albeit a little contented at the same time. Yeah, he definitely likes the sound of that. “Well then, by all means, don’t let me stop you.”

It’s only then that his question comes back into your mind. If he felt the need to ask you again about the bracelet, maybe that meant something after all. At the very least, it means he hadn’t forgotten about it altogether. On the other hand, you wonder how often he had spent thinking, or over-thinking, the issue in the past twenty-four hours, if at all.

Was it wrong to feel some semblance of joy over that potential fact? Probably.

That doesn’t seem to bother you much this time. Not when he’s gazing up at you as if you’re some divine sexy goddess, all his to enjoy. You can’t help yourself; you reach down to brush the sweaty hair from his eyes, perhaps all too gentle of an action for best friends.

And he smiles, maybe a little too softly and maybe a little too ardently if you look close enough.

He smiles.

The thing about your supposed “rules” with your relationship with Jungkook is that there might be a few loose ends that neither you nor Jungkook pay much attention to sometimes.

But that’s neither here nor there.

Mostly, the “no public displays of affection” clause is easily disregardable. It’s typically when you’re too drunk to remember it and a bit needy, craving one another’s touch, but those around you never truly seem to care or even notice because, if you’re lucky, they’re equally as smashed. Sometimes the “no cuddles” clause blurs into a gray area where it’s simply just you and Jungkook post-sex, sprawled out in his bed, not necessarily wrapped up in one another’s arms and cooing sweet nothings to one another but giggling at nothing in particular except one another as you bask in each other’s company and nothing more. You suppose some rules are meant to be broken.

For the most part, Jungkook never seems to question the no kissing rule you were so adamant in insisting. Not until one night in which you’re left wondering where things go so drastically wrong. It starts off as normally as any other day with you and Jungkook can, spent in his apartment binge watching movies. You hadn’t expected that night to switch as suddenly as it does when Jungkook shoots you a text earlier in the day asking if you want to come to his for a night of casual drinking as simply “best friends.” But, as always, one thing seems to lead to another, and you can’t get enough of Jungkook. Maybe it’s in the way he holds you a little tighter, the way he tugs you onto his lap on the sofa in his living room, the way he grips your thighs with a certain type of insatiable desire.

“You know…” he hums. “You drive me insane. In, like, the best way possible.”

Part of you realizes his actions even without him seeming to, and the drunken smile on your face remaining frozen in place, a little dumbfounded. “Jungkook…”

“When I’m with you…” He lifts his stare to look at you, but you have nothing to say. Neither does he. Instead, you’re left grinning at one another and suddenly your face is warm. He leans towards you, his nose nuzzling against the side of your throat. Your hands stay threaded in his hair now, and he swears he feels you secure your grip as if to pull him closer.

You can feel his lips brush faintly against your skin, grazing along your neck to the underside of your jaw. Up, up, up, until━

It’s just as his mouth meets with the corner of yours that you register what he’s doing, even in your clouded state. You turn your head just in time, and he comes to an immediate halt, his lips barely making contact with your cheek instead before he pulls away. He doesn’t move very far but you also don’t push him away just yet. Instead, you shift your head to look at him, still inches apart from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. He can’t quite tell if you’re appalled or not, an empty expression staring back at him.

“I━ You━” He fumbles over his words, squeezes his eyes shut. He blames it on the alcohol even though his head is swimming with thoughts that seem to only concern you. But then a fierceness seems to stir within him, one that makes his jaw clench as he meets your stunned stare. The question rolls off his tongue without meaning to. “Is this about Yukhei?”

“What?”

“Is that why you weren’t wearing our bracelet the other day?”

The question is so ridiculous, you have to laugh. “What are you going on about?”

But Jungkook doesn’t see what’s so funny and so he tries again, his persistence taking hold. “Is that why you won’t ever let me kiss you?”

You blink. Then, you’re shaking your head at him. Exasperation hangs heavy in your words, shaping in the form of a tired scoff. “You’re not serious.”

You’ve slithered off of his lap before he can even think to stop you ━ but if he had, would you have even stayed? You’re mad, but he doesn’t know why. “No, I wanna know. Because if what we have is already so meaningless, what makes a kiss any different?”

“Jungkook…”

“So I wanna know,” he says, brows unconsciously knitting together. His gaze is searching yours desperately, as if begging for an answer he’ll want to hear. But he knows he’s being an idiot, a small sober part in him makes him realize that. “Humour me. Have you had sex with him yet?”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe that’s what you’re on about.” Suddenly, you’re frowning. Your hardened stare meets the boy’s and the irritation that scrunches at your face makes him wince, but it’s too late for him to take back the damage that he’s done. “Yeah, Jungkook, we fucked in his stupid Toyota that you hate so much and he choked me and I liked it. He did all sorts of dirty things to me. Is that what you want to hear?” The sardonic tone hisses at his ears, but he bites back his words, the sober part in him doing some decent good by shushing him. “No, Jungkook, we didn’t fuck. We haven’t even gone on a date, and I don’t even know if I want to, and you think I’m throwing myself at him.”

“But you wanna.”

“You’re being an idiot,” You admonish. “I’m going home. Talk to me when you’re sober.”

He has just enough time to watch you turn on your heel, march towards his door, when he scrambles to his feet. The weight of his words and actions finally seem to dawn on him, hitting him harshly in the face and in the heart.

“Fuck, wait! Wait━” he gasps.

He chases after you, hand reaching out to press his palm against the door before you can shimmy it open. He’s fortunate when you turn to look at him, though your arms are folded impatiently over your chest.

“You’re right. I-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you mad,” he promises earnestly. Then, he lets out a frustrated groan. “I just… What if we… Shit, what if we stop for right now? Y’know… Hooking up. Whatever this is.”

He gestures vaguely between the two of you with his hands, a wearied look plastering his face.

You hate to admit how his words seem to affect you. They bite at the air, leave you breathless as you gawk at him, but the harsh realization of it all is that you were never his to have and he was never yours. Hoseok had been right when he said these things were bound to come to an end ━ so why did it seem to hurt you so much?

A beat of prolonged silence passes between the two of you. Jungkook runs a hand through his chaotic blonde hair, digging the heel of his palm into his temple as if to rid himself of a headache he’s no doubt sporting. Maybe you’re waiting for a better explanation, but he gives none, and you don’t feel as if you have the right to ask why. He’s not your boyfriend, for god’s sake. It’s not like he’s breaking your heart.

Instead, you take a deep breath and say, “Okay.”

“Okay.” It’s all that he says in return.

So then why does it feel like he is?

When Jungkook had promised that if your fling with him ended you would go back to being untainted best friends, he was apparently lying.

A part of you can’t believe the sheer nerve of him to ghost you in his traditional fuckboy ways, and yet he does. You suppose not entirely, at the very least. Part of it ends up with you being even more vexed by his sudden shift in emotion, and the tangible tension that rises between the two of you should have been dealt with properly, yet neither of you do anything about it, leaving your friendship stagnant and stale for a week. After all, how are you really supposed to go back to “just friends” when you’ve seen his dick one too many times?

You refrain from telling Hoseok, if only so you don’t have to hear him tell you he told you so ━ but you also decide to give Yukhei that one chance, and so you think Hoseok wouldn’t mind so much anyway.

Admittedly, when Yukhei asks to hang with you at Taehyung’s eventual party, you aren’t entirely too keen, but you accept it if only because you heard Jungkook will be there too. For the majority of the night, you don’t see the boy, and you spend the hours cozying up with Yukhei in a conversation that dulls you. As it would appear, it seems to bore Yukhei too, but you only notice that when he starts touching you on your waist and the small of your back. There’s a moment where he leans his head close enough to yours that you realize he’s trying to kiss you, resulting in an awkward encounter in which you push him away, palms on his chest.

“What’s wrong?” he asks. The answer is obvious enough to you, but you don’t think you should tell him for his own dignity. That, instead, all you can imagine is Jungkook in his place. “Should we get out of here?”

“Y/N. Can I talk to you?”

You’re both fortunate yet horrified when you hear Jungkook’s voice. He’s standing just behind you, his own stare devoid of any emotion, though his brows furrow and his jaw clenches in a signature Jungkook manner that you know means he’s pissed. He hardly acknowledges Yukhei, nodding in his general direction. You don’t remember if you leave Yukhei there or if he leaves, or if Jungkook even gives a poor attempt of an excuse to the boy, but you’ve not so much as uttered a single word or let out an exhalation of air, when Jungkook ultimately pulls you off to the side where it’s just you and him once more.

“I’m not sucking your dick in Tae’s grimy bathroom, if that’s what you want,” You scowl once Yukhei is out of earshot. “You’ve lost the privilege that is my mouth.”

“That’s not━” Jungkook shakes his head, exasperated. “That’s not what I want. I just━ I’ll take you home. Please?”

You know the offer is much more than him simply walking you the route to your dorm, which you already know like the back of your hand. Yet, you don’t argue. Truthfully, it’s a relief when Jungkook lugs you out of the party. The entire venture back to your apartment is treacherous, in the way that you’re left sobering up enough to the point that your dizzying thoughts become more coherent. Hoseok is gone for the weekend at least, spending the days with his fiance, so you don’t have to worry about humiliating yourself in front of your roommate when it comes to Jungkook.

You’ve barely made it through your front door when you’re grumbling aloud, “What do you want, Jungkook?”

“I wanna talk,” he says firmly. “About us. About Yukhei.”

“Maybe I don’t want to.” But that’s a lie. Talking to Jungkook, even despite masquerading your annoyance for him, is a blessing in disguise. You’ve missed the idiot, and hearing his voice. “Besides, you told me to give him a chance.”

“And you said you didn’t want to.”

“Maybe I changed my mind.”

“Yeah, you sure seemed like you loved it when he was trying to shove his tongue down your throat,” Jungkook retorts bitterly. “C’mon, Y/N. We both know that’s a lie.”

“You know, you’ve been a real dick lately.”

A sliver of a smirk tugs at Jungkook’s face. “I thought you love dick.”

Clearly, his poor attempt at a joke doesn’t land well with you. “Why do you even care so much if Yukhei and I get together? Stop acting so high and mighty and moral, Jungkook. It’s not like you’re some virgin saint. How many times have I heard you talk about all those girls you’ve fucked? And what was I? Just another notch in your belt this whole time?”

“What?” Jungkook gasps now, as if disbelieving you would ever think such a thing. “No! You’re not just another notch. I would never even think about you that way. And I haven’t had sex with anyone else but you this whole time and I easily could have.”

“Wow! Such a martyr,” You remark dryly. When you speak next, you meet his stare with your own crestfallen gaze. “I just want my best friend back.” Your words hurt him more than you think, but he can’t say he doesn’t deserve it. “You’re the one who tried to kiss me, then suggested we stop whatever it is we’re doing━”

Jungkook flinches. “I know.”

“Then you ignore me for days even though you promised nothing would change━”

“I know,” he says desperately. He closes the distance between the two of you, yearning to reach out and touch you. Instead, he clamps his eyes shut, trying with all his might to focus when the room feels like it’s spinning.

“And then you get mad when Yukhei tries to make a move. It’s like you’re jealous or something!”

“I am.” He can’t take it anymore. The words tumble from his lips in a rush that he hardly bothers to bite back.

“Why?”

“Because━ Because━” He struggles to form his thoughts into words, stumbling over his sentence. Fuck, he’s never like this. Even you can tell. He grits his teeth next. “I lean in to kiss you and you look at me as if I’m out of my mind. I just don’t get it. You don’t want me to kiss you but you let me put my dick in your ass.”

The taut line of your lip quivers as you break. “That was one time and you didn’t even get all the way in!”

“Y/N.” Jungkook hums now. He’s gazing at you a little softly, reaching out to place his hands on your waist. “Look, I know I’ve been an idiot. But lately, when I touch you, I fucking feel so alive and the thought of Yukhei doing anything with you when it isn’t me, who should be with you, makes me want to vomit. And when I wake up in the morning alone, I only want you next to me. And I can’t be the only one feeling that way. If I am, tell me. Right now. Please. I just wanna know why you won’t ever let me kiss you, but you let me do all sorts of things with you. Am I really that repulsive?”

Another moment of silence stifles the room. Jungkook is so close to you now, you can’t help yourself. You reach up to tug at the collar of his shirt, fingers twisting in the material as you lean your forehead out of frustration against his shoulder and he instinctively lets his arms slither around your waist, holding you to him. Then━

“No.”

“What?”

“I only made the rule because I don’t want you to kiss me unless you mean it,” You murmur into his chest. “Like really, really mean it. Like I’m more than just a notch in your belt. Because I want to kiss you so badly, and I’m already in love with you but then I’ll really be in love with you and I don’t want to get my heart broken.”

The anticipation kills you, awaiting his response. You refuse to lift your head, until you hear him grumble, “You’re so fucking stupid.”

“Me?”

The retort is filled with your typical jestering hostility as you finally look at him. But just as you do so, Jungkook’s reaching out to grasp at your face, rough hands all soft and gentle as they cradle your cheeks, guiding you towards him and smoothing his lips over yours until you melt like putty in his hands.

Kissing Jungkook, you deduce at once, is not at all how you imagined it.

It’s everything and more. You’ve felt his mouth on you before but in much different circumstances. Between your legs, on your throat, down past the valley of your breasts ━ and each kiss then had been feral, sloppy, rough. Now, it’s sweet and tender, the feeling of his lips as soft as how he makes your heart feel. And the butterflies━ god, the butterflies.

Impatient hands tug and pull at one another until you’ve both stumbled into your room and onto your bed. He’s clambered over top of you, lips struggling to not part throughout the whole ordeal, until he’s wedged himself between your thighs.

Only then does Jungkook part from you just enough in the next moment, lips brushing against yours, as he whispers ardently, “I mean it.”

Then he’s kissing the corner of your lips down to the underside of your jaw, his mouth grazing along your skin in a feathery touch. His hands help you shed your shirt, and the bra underneath. “I mean it when I kiss you here.”

Then he drops his head to your neck, kissing at the base of your throat, before nipping at it lightly. “And here.”

Your hands come to thread in his hair, tugging at the roots. He burrows his face lastly in your chest, snatching the nipple of one of your breasts between his teeth. “Here…”

You’re so soft and supple beneath his hands, all his to love and explore.

“I want you, all of you,” he mumbles. “Only you.”

“Oh, Koo…”

A pretty moan tumbles from your mouth, and he could nearly cry. He had surely thought you were far past the point of enraged, far past the point of pensive words shaped in a heartfelt apology to bring you back to him. But then hearing you rasp his name ━ the little cute nickname that only you call him ━ makes him so goddamn remorseful.

He smothers your lips with his once more, groaning into your mouth. “I’m such a fucking dick. I don’t deserve you.”

“Don’t say that,” You whine.

“I’m sorry,” he laments. He bites at your lower lip, suckling against it. “Please let me make it up to you.”

“You already have.”

“But I’ve been such a shitty friend,” he groans. It’s hard to focus when he’s pressing his hips against yours, the forming bulge in his pants straining against the inside of your thigh. “I should’ve known when to stop. I shouldn’t have even suggested the whole thing in the first place, because then I wouldn’t have messed us all up.”

“Jungkook,” Your grip tightens in his hair. “Jungkook━ I want you so bad. Just wanna be yours.”

“Yeah?” His breath is warm as it fans against your neck. You rub your core eagerly against him, throbbing pussy so close to making contact with his dick.

“Yeah,” You mewl.

“What do you want from me?”

“You. Wanna feel your dick in me, please,” Your fingers tug at the top of his jeans, prodding at the muscles on his abdomen. “In my mouth. Can make you feel better, Koo, I promise. Just wanna be your good girl.”

“Mmm, I like the sound of that.”

He lets you push him until he’s on his back and you’re straddling his hips. Your limbs entangle with his as you shed the rest of your clothes, your own hands wandering up and down the front of his body after he’s tossed his shirt onto the floor. Then he watches as you shimmy your way down his body. You’re so zealous in pleasing him, wrapping your hand around the base of his dick, head angry and red, dribbling pearly beads of precum down the shaft and over the bulging vein that lines it. You run your thumb over the tip and down, spreading the sticky fluid over him. He grunts in response, nearly jolting at your touch, as his head drops back against his shoulders.

“Oh, fuck,” he growls.

You pump him slowly, taking you time as your closed fist glides up and down his length. He shudders each time your hand reaches the base, and becomes so carried away with your leisure teasing that his eyes are screwed shut and misses the way you dip down to kiss at the tip of his cock. His eyes immediately flutter open, a flustered expression painting his face. You lap again at the head, saltiness coating your tongue, and you let out a simpering moan that has him quivering. And when you wrap your mouth entirely around his cock, sinking down along his length, he swears he’s about to fall apart. Your eyes flicker upward to meet him and the moment they lock, so sexy and dark, he has to look away for fear of busting right then and there. He reclines back against the bed once more, his hand flying out to grab at your hair.

“You’re so good to me, baby,” he rasps.

He can feel the curve of your lips against his cock as you suck him off. You do so well, too. Puffing your cheeks out, taking as much of him as you can until it feels as if he’s hitting the back of your throat. Then, you’ll suck at the tip of his cock, tongue swirling rapidly around, as your fist rubs his shaft. It’s a beautiful mix, one that inches him closer and closer to his high, and each time you switch he has to hold it together to not let go so soon. He wants to enjoy it, needs to bask in it. Your pretty mouth doing such sinful things, making him feel as if he were in heaven.

“Shit━” His hips jut forward to meet with your mouth, accidentally hitting the back of your throat without warning. You gag a little, but don’t pull away, and when he apologizes to you hastily, you only moan in response. A thought pops into his head that has him beckon aloud, “Will you be a good girl and let me fuck your mouth? Huh, baby?”

You hum in approval, eyes shimmering with glee.

So, he plants both hands in your hair, grabs at the sides of your head, and as you hollow out your cheeks, he bucks into your mouth. He does it again and again, listening to your crescendoing mewls of delight, forming a sticky mess of drool and cum that spills onto your chin.

“God, you’re so good,” Jungkook grunts. He’s a complete wreck, eyes screwing shut, blonde tresses spilling into his lashes. The muscles in his abdomen twitch with each sharp inhale of air he takes, so mesmerized by the shape of your pretty mouth around his dick, like you were made for him. “Such a good girl, huh?”

He fucks himself into your mouth roughly, frantically. Tears start to prick at your eyes from holding your breath, yet you keep yourself together just a little longer for him, lashes fluttering shut tightly.

“All mine too,” Jungkook hisses. “Wouldn’t let Yukhei do this to you, would you? Fuck, I’m━”

With your head left immobile stuck in his grasp, you hum in disapproval instead. You know he’s close when you start to hear him panting breathily. When he cums, it’s with a fractured whine and in short hot bursts onto your tongue and down your throat. You swallow as much as you can and, when he parts from you with a resonating lewd pop, you wipe away with your knuckles at the rest of his cum leaking out of the corner of your mouth and onto your chin. Dark hooded eyes meet with yours, a mischievous glint captivating them. You crawl over to him, straddling his hips once more, chasing his mouth with yours. Your own lips are so wet, coated in saliva and cum, bruised plump, but yet you’re smiling so innocently past the way he can taste himself on his tongue.

A dazed thought pops into your head that has you murmuring wistfully against him, “Say it again. I like hearing you call me baby.”

“Hmm? What about when I call you my good girl?” Jungkook nips at your lips. He grasps at your waist, flipping you over until you’re on your back beneath him. “You treat me so well, baby; you’re my only girl, you know that.”

A contented sigh sounds from you as you rut your hips in thinning desperation to meet his, so close to rubbing against his dick nestled against his thigh. He licks at his fingers hastily, reaching between the two of you to press against your clit, rubbing leisurely at the soft bundle of nerves. He’s learned how to navigate your body after months of supposed emotionless fucking, but now? Now, he felt as if his heart may just burst through his chest. Every reaction you make to his every touch ━ the needy plea to have him make you his, call you baby ━ makes him want to see more, and more.

“Am I?” You ask hoarsely. He grasps at his dick, guiding his tip to your core, so slick and wet, glistening with your own arousal. As he pushes himself in with a hiss, he watches as you contort beneath him. “Nnngh, Jungkook━”

“Fuuck,” he groans. He sinks into you, spreading your thighs further and further apart, until his hips make contact with yours. His mouth attacks yours with a feverish passion, the rumble of his moans and your whimpers muffling against one another. Then, he remembers to answer your awaiting question, barely audible between the way his tongue lavs at yours. “You are. I’m so fucking in love with you. But I don’t deserve you.”

Your hands tug impatiently at his hair. “Stop saying that.”

“But it’s true,” he hums. He’s quick to start rutting at your hips in a steady yet agonizing pace, dick burrowing into your pussy as your walls throb and shake. He can’t help but watch, mesmerized as always by the way his length slips past your folds and disappears into you. Again, and again, and again, so lewdly destroying your pretty cunt. “Just want Yukhei to touch you all over instead, don’t you?”

“No,” You croak.

You spread your thighs instinctively wider apart, allowing him to sink even further into you until it feels as if he’s hitting you so far in your stomach. Each roll of his hips is punctuated by the crude noise of skin against skin, sending you spiralling.

“Want him to do all sorts of dirty things to you, huh?”

“N-No. Fuck, Jungkook━ Harder, please━”

“That’s what you said,” Jungkook retorts. Still, he listens to your pleas, snapping his hips into yours roughly enough to send you jolting back on the bed. His hands start to roam your body, pinching at your hips, then grasping ferociously at one of your breasts. “Want him to fuck you in his car, right?” His palm feels like fire as it slides up past your collarbones to your throat. “Want him to choke you.”

His hand comes to wrap around the underside of your jaw on your throat, thumb and index finger pressing against the pressure points there. He squeezes, though with barely any force, just enough to feel your rapid pulse beneath his digits in a way that makes you so suddenly hyper aware of everything he’s doing to you. Cock stretching you wide, palm heavy around your throat, mouth folding over yours. So caught up in the overwhelming sensations you’re feeling, you can’t tell if he’s genuinely upset with himself, though you suspect part of him is. You can sense it in the way he clings to you a little tighter, can see it laced within his dazzling pupils.

Jungkook huffs, hair flopping into his eyes as he grits his teeth and ruts his hips faster into you if only to see more of your pretty little reactions. Your jaw unhinges at the feeling, head falling back onto the pillows. “He could probably treat you nicer too.”

You shake your head wildly, fingers digging into the skin on his shoulders. “Just want you, Koo.”

“Still?” he asks. His grip on your neck fastens a little more, pure euphoria riddling all your senses and making you writhe beneath him. “God, you’re such a dumb little slut, aren’t you?”

You nod in your groggy exhaustion, the familiar burn coiling in your stomach, making your toes curl.

Jungkook feels your own high approach. Your walls are clenched so tightly around him, he has to sputter for air. “Could he make you feel like this?”

“No, Koo,” You whine. “Only you.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook growls. “Good girl. Gonna cum around my dick like the good little slut you are?”

Your hips ricochet upwards to meet his, relentless pounding into your core. “Please, please━”

Jungkook quickens his pace until you’ve deteriorated into absolute shambles, whimpering his name after each thrust. You tumble towards your high, cuming around his length as he burrows it into you again and again, and all he can think is mine, mine, mine. As you unravel beneath him, he slides his hand off of your throat and slithers it underneath you and around your waist, hoisting you slightly enough off the bed so that he can reach his own orgasm. He’s a little more frantic now, sloppy and restless as he pummels into you.

“Shit, baby━” he cries out. “Oh, fuck, you’re so good━”

As you come down from your high enough, you somehow manage to murmur drowsily, “Cum in me, Koo. Wanna feel it.”

You grab at his face, pulling him down to catch his lips on yours, and the thought is so tempting he can’t refuse. He gets so lost in your lips, cuming with one final slam of his hips into yours and a chorus of curses mingling with your name in whimpers. He rides out both of your highs with a few half-hearted thrusts, more concerned with kissing you in useless open-mouthed kisses as your own mouth parts with one last weary moan while he fills you up.

When he’s spent, he collapses against your chest, and you collapse onto the bed. It’s quiet long enough for the both of you to calm the shrill beat of your hearts when you feel Jungkook stir, moving to part from you, pulling his dick from your swollen pussy and planting a lingering peck on your cheek. He disappears momentarily but returns a few seconds later, towel in hand which he uses to wipe at your core now leaking with his cum and your heart croons at all his tender touches.

It makes you realize all at once that, god, yes, you’re so in love with your idiot best friend and he’s so in love with you.

“Jungkook.”

He turns to look at you, an adoring smile dancing upon his lips when he sees your own radiant beaming face. You beckon him over and he relents, letting you pull him into your arms. He nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck as he wraps his own arms around you to tug you closer to his side. As your fingers come to rake through his sweaty hair, he cranes his neck to follow your hand and hear him coo against your neck, “That feels so good.”

A sudden thought crosses your mind that has you smirking smally to yourself. “Are we… Are we cuddling? Jungkook, I thought you didn’t like cuddling. Said it was, and I quote, sentimental bullshit.”

“I never liked it because it wasn’t with you. Didn’t wanna waste my time on someone that wasn’t you,” Jungkook hums, matter-of-fact. You can tell he’s a little embarrassed at the way you so casually taunt him about such an obvious fact, though he’s fortunate you can’t see him smiling like a complete fool. “And I wanna do all that sentimental bullshit with only you. Now, shush━” He scolds you playfully. “M’so tired and I just wanna hold you tight.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Your heart leaps in your chest. “Just promise me one thing?”

It’s only then that he lifts his sleepy gaze to find yours, apprehensive of any potentially looming severity in your words. “Anything.”

Instead, all he can find is the way you trace your finger along the details of his face, from his nose, to his cheekbones, down to the freckle under his lip with the hand that sports your friendship bracelet. “In the morning, when we wake up, you’ll still be here to hold me tight. And every other morning after that.”

His smile widens even more, if that was even possible. “Wouldn’t want it any other way. But━”

“But?”

“On one condition.”

“What’s that?”

His eyes sparkle cheekily. “Kiss me.”

So, you do, again and again and again; and Jungkook thinks, yeah, he certainly can get used to this.

It takes you a month to cave in to Jungkook’s incessant pleas to fuck you to his sex playlist. You do it mostly to humour him, though part of you is a little bit intrigued at the thought.

Stowed away in his room, he eats you out to the choruses of sultry The Weeknd and raunchy Ariana Grande songs, fucks you to the likes of the Neighbourhood and Kim Petras while you’re on all fours, and you’re only half-paying attention to the music until you hear it. Admittedly, you almost completely miss it but you blame Jungkook and the way he’s making you currently feel, sprawled out beneath him, chests pressed flush against one another in a sweaty, sticky mess, breathy and glorious moans of your name filling your ears when━

“I had no choice but to hear you. You stated your case time and again━”

The dulcet chime of Alanis Morissette thrums about the room, a complete and utter shift in contrast in the atmosphere that has you immediately pausing.

“Jungkook.” But he knows what you set out to say even before you do, judging by the tone in your voice and the stifling smirk on his face. You gawk at him, biting at your lip to hide your laughter but you fail miserably. “You weren’t joking?”

He shrugs innocently, leaving you just as dumbfounded as you were two seconds ago. Instead, he says, “Gotta do what I promised then, don’t I?”

You quirk a brow. “What was that exactly?”

“Gotta give you the best orgasm of your life.”

“If you can do that to cheesy 90s pop, I’ll have your actual babies, Jungkook.” The effort is endearing and impressive, to say the least.

A roll of your eyes is met with a taunting roll of his hips into yours that wipes the jest off your face immediately. He grins like a madman, uttering a little stupidly, and a little ardently, “Say no more.”

Because, all things considered and joking aside, he wants it with you ━ the dazed daydreamy talk of a future together and kids, friendship bracelets, and cuddles in the morning. Because you mean the world to him and more. Because you’re his best friend, and he’s so madly in love with you.

Because he wants it all with you.

⟶ All rights reserved to © jungkxook. I do not allow reposting, translating, or any sort of modifying and reuploading of my work.

⟶ Feedback is always appreciated!

[helliontherapscallion]

(Y/n) and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week: Thursday (Part 1)

Monday     Tuesday     Wednesday     Thursday (Part 2)     Friday     Saturday     Sunday

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, homophobia (f slurs and d slur), panic attacks, toxic friends, mentions of attempted suicide/getting told to kill yourself

Word count: 6,377

(A/N): ok, so I definitely got carried away with this, so I had to split Thursday into two parts. If I kept it in one part, it’d probs be like 10k-11k words long lmao

You woke up feeling strangely more refreshed than usual. Glancing at your clock, you saw that you actually woke up about thirty minutes before your alarm went off. You got a whopping twelve hours of sleep, a stark contrast from your recent sleep schedule consisting of no more than four hours a night. You felt like you could rule the world with how much energy you had. Sure, you felt anxiety pooling in your stomach like you usually did and you had a terrible dream about Haley rejecting you and getting completely outed to the entire school, but that did not stop you from throwing your covers off your bed and walking down the hall to the kitchen with the most confidence you’ve had since starting high school.

When you got to the kitchen, you saw a dead looking Uncle Schlatt slumped at the table chugging coffee and a chipper Philza trying to make conversation. Usually, you would’ve joined Schlatt in being dead inside, but today was different. You were filled to the brim with energy that you haven’t had in years. As you walked through the door, their heads turned towards you.

“Mornin Dad, mornin Uncle Schlatt!”

Your uncle merely grunted before going back to guzzling down his coffee. Your dad smiled at you, “well, looks like someone’s well rested.”

“Yeah, I got like twelve hours of sleep last night.”

“Glad to hear it, hun. You really needed it.”

“Glad to hear someone’s feeling well rested,” your uncle grumbled into his coffee. 

“Schlatt, don’t be such a downer all the time,” Philza rolled his eyes at your uncle. 

“Fuck you Phil, I’m a ball of fuckin sunshine. Ain’t that right, sweetheart?” 

“Yeah, Dad, I don’t know what you’re talkin about. Uncle Schlatt’s the heart and soul of this house. Even if he doesn’t live here.”

Schlatt gave a booming laugh, “suck it Phil. And that, (y/n), is why you’re my favorite niece.”

“At least I’m someone’s- wait. I’m your only niece.”

“Still my favorite niece!”

You grinned happily, that was better than nothing. “Love ya, Uncle Schlatt!”

Your uncle’s cocky grin turned more sincere and he diverted his full attention to you, “love ya too, kid.”

“Love each other quieter, you woke me up.” Wilbur’s tired voice complained as he walked into the room and slumped into his chair next to Schlatt. Schlatt clapped a hand onto his shoulder and rustled his hair.

“My man! How’s Sally, huh?”

Wilbur flushed red and started sputtering as Philza turned his confused gaze to his son. “Who’s Sally, Wilbur?”

You couldn’t leave your brother high and dry when he accepted you for being yourself so readily yesterday, so you quickly jumped in for him. “Sally’s just one of his friends at school. They’re job shadowing together for their project. Right, Wilbur?” You turned towards the flustered man with a somewhat forced smile and raised eyebrows. He looked at you with immense relief and nodded vigorously, his hair flopping onto his forehead. 

“Yes! We’re planning on job shadowing our band director, he said that it’d be a good idea if we want to major in music.” 

“Oh, why didn’t you tell me about her before! You should invite her over for dinner, I’d love to meet her!” Oh, your dad did not buy your terrible excuse for Wilbur, that man is like a bloodhound when it comes to sniffing out lies. Poor, poor Wilbur. 

Despite the blush remaining on his cheeks, Wilbur seemed to think that Philza actually bought his weak excuse. “I’ll invite her over soon. Does Friday night next week work?”

Philza grinned cheekily, “yes! I can’t believe you haven’t brought her over sooner if you’re close enough to job shadow with her!”

At this point, Schlatt’s face was cherry red with his almost failed attempt to hold in his laughter. “I’m not missin this. Me an’ Tubbs are comin over next Friday.” 

Wilbur still hasn’t noticed that they hadn’t bought it, you thought he was more perceptive than that. Eventually, Philza started to make breakfast and conversation lulled into a comfortable silence as everybody waited for Techno, Tommy, and Tubbo. Deciding to pull out your phone, you scrolled through your notifi- wait. Why did you have forty-two messages from Adrian and Sammy? Why did they make a groupchat with everyone except Annie? Furrowing your brows in confusion, you opened the group chat. What you read made your breathing catch in your chest and your skin blanch, it wasn’t a dream. Everything was real.

Sammy <3

(y/n) you fucking pervert

How could you do this to us????

Adrian <3

We’ve given you everything and yet you’re still a disgusting person. 

Fucking faggot

We thought we could fix you, but you’re broken

You’re always going to be

Sammy <3

And now, you’re gonna go to hell with all the other dykes and fairies.

It’ll probably be heaven for you, surrounded by perverts like yourself

You’re staying far away from Annie

Adrian <3

You’ve put her through so much shit and now this

We swear to god if you talk to her again we’re gonna make you wish you would’ve gone through with killing yourself freshman year

We’re leaking the pictures slut

You felt your anxiety melt away into betrayal. So they were yours and Haley’s stalkers? How dare they try to leak Haley’s pictures. They could leak yours, you didn’t give a shit if yours were leaked. You could learn to live with it, you always did after all the shit you put yourself through throughout the years, but Haley’s? She didn’t do anything. Even if her rejection was painful, you still deeply cared for her. She didn’t deserve that. You, however, did for not being normal. For making people around you uncomfortable with your presence. 

(Y/n)

That was you guys?????

Why the fuck would you do that

I trusted you 

All of you

Sammy <3

We trusted you too dyke

But you’re a two-faced bitch

And to think we actually thought you were our friend

Were you only friends with Ann and I so you could get into our pants?

I’m disgusted

You’re a fucking pervert.

Adrian <3

We shouldn’t have talked you out of suicide freshman year

You fucking deserve it

Make Annie’s life easier and just swan dive off a roof

You’ll be doing everyone a favor

(Y/n)

Listen, I don’t care if you leak my pictures.

Just don’t leak Haley’s

She has no part in this

I’ll leave you guys alone if you delete Haley’s pictures

Hell, I’ll do anything for you if you could release them after the final volleyball match today

It’s Haley’s time to shine and she deserves the attention as team captain

She’s worked so hard to get there all of high school and leaking my nudes would take the attention away from her

Let her have her moment

Sammy <3

For once she has a point

She probably manipulated the poor girl

Who knows what the fag would’ve done to her if we didn’t expose her

Adrian <3

Fine, we’ll delete Haley’s pictures and we’ll wait until after the game

But we’re leaking yours

You deserve it for what you did to Annie and Haley

“Kid, are you okay? You’re kinda pale over there buddy.”

Looking up from your phone, you saw everybody’s eyes on you. They each looked concerned, but Wilbur even more so. He was the only one in the room at the moment that knew about your panic attacks. He stood up from his spot and walked over to you with long strides.

“She just remembered the homework in stats that we forgot about. Techno asked us in the group chat about it, we were just about to go and see if he could help us.” 

“But Wilbur, I thought you took statistics last year.”

“No, that was algebra two, I’m taking stats this year,” that was a lie, he was in pre-calculus this year. “C’mon (y/n), lets go finish that assignment.” 

He grabbed your shoulder and hauled you into a stand before grabbing your hand and practically dragging you up the stairs and into Techno’s room. Said pink-haired teenager looked up angrily. “What’d I say about kno- (y/n)?”

Wilbur closed the door and locked it behind him. He dragged you over to Techno’s bed and sat you down on the edge before kneeling down to look you in the eyes.

“(Y/n), can I touch you? Is that alright?”

After you shakily nodded, he grabbed your hand and placed it over his chest. “Breathe with me.” Like yesterday, you tried to copy his movements, but it wasn’t working. Your panic attack was just getting worse by the minute. Techno pushed Wilbur aside and took his place kneeling in front of you and grabbing your hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles.

“(Y/n), can you tell me five things you can see around the room?”

When you didn’t move your wide eyes away from Techno’s face, he frowned and gently squeezed your hand. “You can get through this. What’re five things you can see around the room?”

You reluctantly tore your eyes away from his face and peered around the room. You hadn’t noticed that your blurred vision had tunneled until you realized that you couldn’t see anything in your peripheral vision. Your unseeing eyes flicked around the room. 

You tried to swallow, but you couldn’t do anything through the lump in your throat. With a shaky voice, you gasped out “I-I can’t breathe. I-”

“Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. Follow me.”

You tried to breathe with him, and you eventually got to the point where you could speak. Your eyes flicked around the room once again and slowly recognized your surroundings. 

“You… Wilbur… Desk… Window…”

“That’s good, just one more.”

Your eyes flicked around the room, “...Book.”

“Look back at me, you’re doing so good,” when you looked back at him, he had a small smile on his face. “Nice job. Now, four things you can feel. Can you do that for me?”

You shakily nodded and looked at your hands and around your surroundings. “Bed… Pants… You… Carpet.”

“Three things you can hear?”

“You… Birds… Breathing.”

“You’re almost there, I’m so proud of you. Two things you can smell?”

“Toast and… and burning?”

Despite his confusion about the sudden burning smell, he continued to smile at you. “Good, last one. One thing you can taste?”

You licked your lips before scrunching your nose slightly, “...snot.”

“Wilbur, can you go get her a few kleenexes and a glass of water?” Techno asked his brother without taking his eyes off you.

Wordlessly, he swiftly left the room. “Are you feeling better?”

You panted as you reached up to rub at your teary eyes, “yeah, how’d you know what to do?”

His smile turned slightly bashful, “I did some research last night. I’m glad I did, that was a bad panic attack. Can I- can I ask what caused it?”

You pulled out your phone and handed it to him, letting him scroll through the messages while you brought up your knees to your chest and rested your chin on your knees. You felt tired after that attack, however you had a little bit more energy than you usually did. Only a little bit more. It was probably because you slept for half the day and through the night yesterday. You watched your brother scroll through your texts with tired eyes. 

He was emotionless as he scrolled, making you somewhat scared about what his reaction would be. He probably hasn’t gotten to the whole “go kill yourself” or the stalking parts. Judging by his set jaw and labored breathing, he was pissed already and he didn’t even get to the bad parts yet.

In the middle of his scrolling, Wilbur came back with a box of tissues, a glass of water, and a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. When you hardly moved to grab them, he sat on the bed beside you and handed you a tissue. After cleaning up, you took the glass of water and started to slowly sip at it. “Thanks, Wil.” 

He wrapped an arm around you and pulled you close to him. When he looked over Techno’s shoulder at your phone, you saw his eyebrows furrow. “Tech, what’s-”

He was interrupted as Techno shoved your phone into his hands and stood up to start pacing around his room. “Read it yourself.” He sounded more monotone than usual. He was absolutely furious.

You watched Wilbur’s face as he read through your messages. Unlike Technoblade, he looked furious. His eyes were set ablaze as his entire face turned an angry red. “(Y/n), what the absolute fuck? Why didn’t you tell us this was happening?”

Shrinking in on yourself and pulling your knees closer to your chest, you murmured out a small “sorry.” You saw him quickly turn his head to you as his face softened. He pulled you into a full hug.

“This isn’t your fault. None of it is, it’s all their fault,” he spat with disgust. “How’d they even get your nudes? Did you send them to anyone?”

You leaned your head against his shoulder, “that’s the thing, Wil. I’ve never taken nudes before. They took them through my window. I deserve it.”

You felt him freeze up and heard Techno pause his pacing to stomp over to you. He tore Wilbur’s arms off from you and held you out at arms length by your shoulders. He looked the most angry than you’ve ever seen him with his furious eyes burning into your own and his mouth set in a firm frown. It was terrifying to see him that angry.

“(Y/n), you don’t deserve a single fucking thing that’s happened to you. You were manipulated and gaslit by a group of self righteous assholes. You. Do. Not. Deserve. Anything. That. Happened. To. You. Do you understand me?” 

Despite your fears of him, you were determined to protect your friends. “But I do deserve it though. I was a bad friend to them. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t be a good friend to them when they were always helping me. I’m just not a good person in general. I deserve it for not being normal.”

“(Y/n)-”

“Technoblade, that’s enough.” Wilbur cut him off with a firm tone, putting a comforting hand on your arm.

“No it isn’t Wilbur. It’s not enough until she realizes how fucking toxic they are. What they’re doing is gaslighting. You’re in a psychology class, you should know what that is. Give me the definition of it. Now.”

“It’s when someone manipulates another person for their own personal gain… I’d know if I’m being gaslit, and I’m not. They’re just telling me the truth, they keep me in check. I could put more effort into my appearance and personality. I could stand to lose a couple of pounds.” “How do you not- ya know what? Listen. Just listen. That’s the definition of being gaslit. They’re constantly putting you down and making you self conscious about every. Little. Thing because they need to put someone down to fuel their own damaged egos and they laugh at you when you show that you’re hurt by their comments. That’s not a healthy friendship, (y/n). It’s toxic. 

“Real friends would never, and I mean never, do that to you. Real friends would never tell you that you looked like shit when you’re as beautiful as Aphrodite. Real friends would never out you to the entire school when you weren’t ready. Real friends would never tell you to lose weight because they wouldn’t care about what you look like. Real friends care about your well being and they look out for you. They love you for you.”

You fell silent as you contemplated his words. Were they really that toxic? You were planning on being a psychology major in college, so why didn’t you notice that they were actually always against you? You learned in your class that manipulative people are naturally cunning and sneaky, but you couldn’t help but feel stupid. You thought that they were helping you when they were clearly toxic. It was right under your nose and you didn’t even see the signs. What kind of psychology student were you if you couldn’t recognize the obvious signs of manipulation? 

On one hand, you were filled with betrayal. But on the other hand, you felt molten hot anger overwhelm and swirl around your entire body like a cyclone absolutely decimating everything in its path with its violent winds hurling in a blind rage anything and everything without a care of the outcome. You felt the burning hatred of a thousand suns rise up from deep within your being, filling you with a hatred that you didn’t know you were capable of. 

They fucked up your entire life, not you. They were the ones with the ugly personalities, not you. They were the ones that needed to improve themselves, not you. They were bad friends, not you. They laughed at the pain they brought upon you purposefully. They completely humiliated you. They betrayed your trust. They took pictures of you without your consent. They fucked up your relationship with Haley. They violated Haley. They fucking stole her dignity from her with those disgusting pictures they took of her. They were truly vile creatures undeserving of any mercy. Not that you were actually considering being merciful, that would be too good for them. They deserved everything you were going to throw at them. You were going to rise like a phoenix from the ashes of your past self. 

You felt yourself practically vibrate with fury as you held Technoblade’s intense gaze with one of your own. “Those bastards fucking used me for years. Literal years and I thought they were there for me,” you gave a sardonic laugh, your voice shaking with anger. “I-I’m gonna fuckin kill them the next time I see their sorry asses. Make them feel what it’s like to get tossed out of a car. Make them feel what it’s like to constantly get beaten down.”

Techno’s hands gripped your shoulders in a vice grip as his eyes sparked with a crazed delight and he grinned widely at you, “that’s the spirit! You’re gonna rain hellfire upon them, beat their asses (y/n)! Fuck em up! FUCK! EM! UP!”

Wilbur, always thinking about potential consequences and the voice of reason, spoke up with hesitance. “As much as I love that you’re finally realizing that they’re toxic as hell and want revenge, you’d have to wait at least until tomorrow. If you did it today, you wouldn’t be allowed to go to finals. Besides, I don’t think that you should even fight them. You would be out- wait. They’re the ones that opened the car door and fucked up your back?” Seeing you nod, his face darkened in anger. “...(Y/n), you’re gonna fuck em up as soon as you can tomorrow. We’ll back you up if they try to gang up on you, we aren’t eighteen yet, so it’s still legal. ”

“YES, SUCCUMB TO THE ANARCHY! WE’RE GONNA FUCK EM UP!”

“YOU ARE NOT FUCKING ANYONE UP ANYTIME SOON, TECHNOBLADE.” Philza’s voice boomed from behind the closed door. Said door swung open to reveal your father’s angry form and your uncle’s intrigued, slightly proud form.

You three stared at the two for a while with gaping mouths, your previous intensity substantially diminuendos into a quiet shock. No one fucks with an angry Dadza. Techno was the quickest to get over the shock. “...How long were you standing there?”

Your father sneered. “Well, long enough to hear that you three are going to fight someone! Why the hell would you do that?” 

Your brothers looked at you in a silent question. Shaking your head, you answered in a small voice, “there’s just some people messing with me at school. They were just worried about me. We weren’t gonna actually fight someone, they were just talking about how it’d be nice to get some revenge for me. I was just about to tell them that I could handle myself and we didn’t need to fight.”

Immediately, your dad’s stiff stance relaxed slightly as his eyes pierced into your own, searching them to see if you’re lying to him or not. You felt a cold sweat drip down the back of your head at the intensity of his gaze, you hated when he did that. It always made you feel like he was staring right at your soul. Eventually, his gaze softened.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you through it.”

“I didn’t want to bother you. Plus, it’s nothing I can’t handle by myself.”

“But you looked really panicked earlier hun. Are you sure you can-”

“I just forgot about my stats homework until this morning and I thought I wouldn’t be able to get it done in time, but I did! No worries,” you spoke a little faster than usual. You prayed that he wouldn’t see through your lie. 

“...Alright. Just let me know if it gets to be too much for you and I can talk with your principal about it. Now go eat something and get ready, you only have,” he glanced at the clock on the wall, “an hour before you have to be at school. Hurry up or you’re going to be late.”

Your dad turned around and walked down the hallway away from the room. Schlatt, however, loomed in the doorway for a while before he came into the room and closed the door behind him. You three watched him warily as he eyed you and your brothers.

“...Ya know, I approve,” after seeing your confused looks, he chuckled and spoke again. “I approve of you three fuckin em up. I heard part of your conversation, and those snot nosed brats deserve it for what they did to my favorite niece.”

You three stared at him with shock, making him laugh at you. “Close your mouths, you’re gonna catch flies.” He paused for a second before leaning towards you and whispering “now, you didn’t hear it from me, but the key to a good punch is following through with it. Don’t hesitate. Don’t tuck your thumb in, that’ll break it. Make sure you center your hit on your index and middle fingers, they are the strongest points of the hand. If you need to, go for the eyes, nose, and groin.”

“I-thank you Uncle Schlatt. I really appreciate it. Just- please don’t tell dad?”

“Of course not! I mean, if you don’t fuck em up enough I will. (Y/n), when you’re done, I want details.”

You saluted sarcastically, “yessir, will do!”

He gave a boisterous laugh, “you better. Now go get ready.” 

As he was about to walk out of the room, he suddenly paused and his hand shot to his pants pocket. He pulled something out before putting it into your hand and turning again to walk out of the room. “This is from Tubbo and Tommy. They were worried about you.” In your hand laid three of your favorite candies. You felt your heart swell at their innocent, caring natures. They were honestly some of the sweetest kids you’ve ever met. 

“Well boys, you get first pics!” You held out the candy to them.

Wilbur looked at you with knitted eyebrows, “but they gave those to you.”

“I wouldn’t have gotten through that panic attack without you guys helping me, so take this as a temporary thank you.” You watched as they glanced at each other before reaching out to grab a piece of candy.

“Alright, I’m gonna go get ready, you guys can take the bathroom before me. Love you guys!”

You went into your room and made sure your curtains were closed before turning to your closet. Humming in thought, you picked out a white button up and the nicest sweater you owned. You put on the collared button up then slipped the sweater on over it so that the collar poked out of the neck. You smiled at yourself in the mirror, feeling more confident in yourself than you’ve felt since you started hanging out with them. Fuck them, they always lied to you. You looked great in anything you put on. You felt elated and basked in the spectacular feeling of being able to like what you wore. 

While you waited for your brothers to leave the bathroom, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through your contacts before you stopped on one: Haley’s. The girl that stole your heart and relentlessly stomped on it until it was a red puddle at her feet. Despite the pain, you still loved her. She was your everything. Your thumb hovered over her icon, contemplating on texting her. You had to tell her that she didn’t have to worry about her pictures anymore. 

(Y/n)

Haley

I know you don’t want to talk to me, but I have good news

You don’t have to worry about your pics anymore

I took care of it.

You don’t have to reply to this

Just know that I took care of it and you don’t have to worry about it anymore.

You sat on your bed staring at your phone screen waiting for her to open your messages. You stared at the ‘delivered’ icon at the bottom of your message, waiting for it to say ‘read’. You stared for about ten minutes before you gave up, putting your phone in your pocket and standing up with a sigh. She would see it eventually. Just as you reached your door, you felt a vibration in your pocket. You whipped out your phone and smiled at Haley’s face on your screen. She was calling you. 

Taking a deep breath to calm yourself down, you clicked the answer button, “hey Hales.”

“(Y/n), what’d you do?”

“I took care of it. That’s all you have to know.”

“I think I should know more. What’d you do?”

You paused for a moment before you hesitantly said, “I asked them to delete your pictures and they have to, it’s part of our deal.”

“...You found out who they were?”

“Yeah, but that’s not important. You don’t have to worry about it.”

“(Y/n), don’t tell me what to worry about. Who are they?”

“...Fine, it was Adrian Schnieder, Annie Lockhart, and Sammy McConnor. Ya know, you’re scary when you’re mad Hales. Remind me not to get on your bad side again.”

“It was them? You hang out around them all the time, I thought you were good friends. Why would they do that?”

Even though she couldn’t see you, you shrugged. “I dunno. I think they were just jealous. They’re assholes and I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it a lot sooner. I’m sorry they put you through that, you didn’t deserve what they did to you.”

“God (y/n),” she sighed out, you imagined that she was running a hand through her hair. “I can’t imagine how much that hurt you. You four were really close.”

“I know, but it was a long time coming. Like I said, I should’ve noticed that it was them. They’ve always been toxic as hell.”

“How’d you find out? What happened?”

“Did you hear about what they did to me yesterday?”

“Should I? If you’re not comfortable talking about it, that’s totally okay. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t wanna.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re gonna hear about it eventually, shit spreads like wildfire at Klinkver. Long story short, they outed me to the entire school and thought that I was only friends with them to get in their pants. They basically told me to kill myself,” you added nonchalantly. “But that’s not the important part about this. They told me that they were the people that took those pictures of you.”

“...(Y/n), how could you say that’s not important! They fucked up your life and all you care about is my pictures? What’d they say they’d do with yours?”

“I asked them to not leak them until after the match tonight so you could have the spotlight. You deserve it after all the hard work you’ve put in to get team captain. Zuri was hard to beat and you deserve the recognition for that.”

You heard her take a deep breath through her nose, “(y/n), for once in your life care about yourself over others. You’re gonna be exposed to the entire school and it bothers me that you’re being so nonchalant about that.”

“They’ve put me through worse. Besides,” you wove a hand in the air, “it’ll all blow over sooner or later when another person gets their nudes leaked. You remember how fast people forgot about Marlene’s nudes when May’s got leaked like a week later.”

“Still, it’s degrading to have people see you like that. No matter how fast they get over it, it doesn’t change the fact that they’ve seen you. You can’t come back from that sweetheart.”

You felt your heart skip a beat at the nickname. Even if she called almost everybody that, you felt special. “I don’t care if people see my boobs, it wasn’t even a clear picture anyways. It was hella blurry.”

Your door swung open for the second time today. There stood Tommy, his eyes peering innocently at you. “Dad wanted me to tell you to hurry up.”

You smiled at him, “thank you buddy. Let him know I’ll be down in a minute. Oh, and thank you for the candy, it really made me happy.”

He beamed brightly before he sprinted down the stairs. “Was that Tommy? Is he gonna be at the match tonight?”

“Of course, he and Tubbo are our team’s mascots after all. They would never miss a game, especially our final match.”

“I can’t wait to see them, but we need to talk about this. It’s more serious than you paint it as. How are you not pissed at those dumbasses? You trusted them and they betrayed you.”

“Oh, believe me I’m furious. Heh, I’m actually kinda shaking right now because of how pissed I am. But for now, I’m just gonna imagine their faces on the ball so I can keep my mind off them until tomorrow.”

“...Please don’t tell me you’re gonna do something stupid tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t call it stupid per se, they deserve it for what they put you through. It’s more getting justice than being stupid.”

“(Y/n), I swear to god if you start a fight just to get back at them for me, I’m gonna slap you. Think about yourself every once and a while, they put you through so much. If you feel comfortable, you’re gonna tell me everything they did to you tonight on the bus coming home.”

“So we’re gonna sit together?” You tried and failed to stomp the hopeful tone from your voice.

Her laugh sounded angelic in your ear, “of course we are silly, you’re my best friend. I gotta go, my dad’s calling me. I’ll talk to you later!”

“See ya!” When you hung up, you danced around your room with joy. You- no, they- didn’t ruin your friendship with Haley after all! Oh, you felt like your heart was going to burst out of your chest with joy. Even if she didn’t like you like you adored her, you still cherished your friendship. Looking back, Haley and the team always had your back, they genuinely cared about you. They were perhaps the only ones you would fully trust in the future. 

“(Y/N), HURRY UP YOU’RE GONNA BE LATE!” Tommy’s voice outside your door shook you from your happy dance. “Coming!”

You ran to the bathroom and hastily went through your routine. Despite your rushing, you tried your best to look presentable. You were going to prove those snakes wrong, you were beautiful no matter what you wore or how you looked.

After running down the stairs with your bag, your dad stopped you before you could run out the door with your keys. “You look nice today hun.”

“Thanks Dad, I just wanted to dress up a bit for finals today. I’m honestly really pumped to play tonight.”

“That’s good,” he smiled at you before pulling you into a quick hug. “Just take it easy today, you need to save your energy for the match tonight... Listen, I don’t know what happened to you this morning and I don’t know exactly what’s going on in your life right now, but just know that I’m always gonna be here for you. Whether you need help with homework, advice, or if you want me to beat up someone else’s dad for you,” he chuckled, “I’ll do it.” 

You closed your eyes and leaned into his touch, happy with the contact. You two stood in the hall for a moment before he pulled away and told you to leave for school. 

The drive to the school was uneventful with your brothers mainly holding up the conversation. As you pulled into the parking lot, you realized that you needed to catch up on two full days of stats homework.

“Hey Tech?” He hummed, looking over to you.

“Sorry, but would I be able to maybe copy your stats notes from Tuesday?”

“Yeah, I’ll give em to you so you can copy it before school starts. We’d have to go to Mr. Mullins for yesterday’s notes though. We can just ask him about it before school starts.”

As you pulled into a space and moved to leave the car, a hand stopped you. “(Y/n), if any of those two-faced bitches bother you at all, let us know. Don’t deal with this on your own, we’re here for you,” Wilbur said genuinely.

“Yeah, if they say anything bad about you, it’s on sight.”

You laughed, “thanks guys, I’ll let you guys know if they do anything. We gotta get going though if Tech and I wanna get those notes done.”

In the school, you and Techno successfully got your notes done before the first bell rang. The rest of class went by without a hitch with you actually somewhat understanding mostly everything being taught. You even got a question right when you were called on! Turns out not feeling weighed down by toxic people helps a lot with concentration.

The only block you were dreading was the second block. You were sure that if you even glanced at Annie and Adrian, you’d go apeshit on them. Luckily for them, they didn’t show up to class today. They were probably comforting Annie after you “manipulated” her, you thought with an eye roll. Today was just another work day, so you pulled out your laptop and opened Google Docs. You saw Annie’s and Adrian’s unfinished and you were slapped in the face with inspiration. 

They were still expecting you to finish their essays, so you were gonna finish them alright. You were going to completely rewrite their essays all about how they were terrible homophobes and how LGBT+ people are always facing some form of discrimination amongst their peers, complete with attached screenshots of them calling you slurs over text. You’d even write a little note at the beginning that would tell your teacher that they didn’t write this, but they made you write it so you deserved the credit for it. You didn’t care that this would take a while, the satisfaction that you would get would be worth it. This was going to completely screw up their grades, this essay was worth twenty five percent of your overall grade. Mr. Todd was really laid back, so he only had a few rules in the classroom. First was to respect your classmate’s time and work, second was to clean up after yourselves, and third (“the most important one” he said on the first day of school) was that he would never tolerate racism, sexism, transphobia, or homophobia in his classroom. Your masterpieces you were writing would definitely earn them a failing grade, a good scolding from Mr. Todd, and maybe a visit to the principal’s office. This would be first in a long line of gifts you have in mind for them. 

At lunch, you were slightly stumped as to where you should sit. You didn’t really know anybody in your lunch period, so you just sat at the empty table Adrian, Annie, and Sammy left for you today and ate while working on your masterpieces. Finding sources was extremely easy for you, you remembered doing extensive research about discrimination when you first found out that you weren’t the straight girl you thought you were. Luckily for you, you still had the old Google Doc full of sources you wanted to save for later. Thank you, freshman you. 

Third and fourth block went by relatively quickly, you completely finished the work in both classes with plenty of time left for you to continue typing up the essays. You had gotten Adrian’s completely done and Annie’s thesis written. Oh, revenge is sweet. You weren’t even done with what you had in store for them. 

You had their parent’s phone numbers and you got Adrian’s boss’ number from Marlene, who worked with him as a waitress. Annie’s parents were total sweethearts that would be absolutely fuming if you showed them what she said to you. You weren’t sure about Adrian’s or Sammy’s parents, but you were going to send them screenshots anyways. If Adrian’s parents were as bigoted as he was, you still had his boss to fall back on. You could email the screenshots to the principal and the athletic director so that you could have something to rely on if Sammy’s parents had the same beliefs as she did. She valued cross country more than everything, so you could fuck that up for her. Revenge never tasted so sweet to you before, it felt like you were high with how giddy you were. Techno and Wilbur were going to love this. 

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[wayward-dreamer]

Life’s Lessons - Good Enough

Pairing: Mechanic!Dean x Female!Teacher!Reader

Word count: 6,372

Summary: Y/N and Dean are planning their wedding, but a reminder from the past gives him doubts about his relationship and whether he’ll ever actually be good enough for her.

Warnings: Swearing, Dean’s past with Lisa comes back to haunt him, ANGST, Tears, Dean’s self deprecation rears its ugly head, Making up, Fluff.

Music: Love Of My Life - Queen (Dean bar scene)

Life’s Lessons Spotify Playlist

A/N: The next time stamp is here! Stay tuned for another announcement soon about the saga! Hope you all like the time stamp! As always, happy reading and enjoy! :)

Life’s Lessons Saga Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​.

Y/N pressed the ‘end’ button on her phone, throwing it beside her on the couch with a loud groan of frustration.

Looking down at the coffee table in front of her, she shook her head at the sudden overwhelming feeling. The whole surface of the table was covered in bridal magazines, brochures, printouts of venues, her laptop with multiple tabs open, and everything else that came with planning a wedding. She kept hitting brick walls with every place she was looking at being unavailable for the date that she and Dean had decided on. The only thing she had managed to do was finalize the guest list, which was at 80 people. It wasn’t a big number, but knowing she would have to do the invitations as soon as a venue was decided, it was a lot of people. Luckily, it was everyone she or Dean cared about, without having to make sacrifices for their special day.

Y/N heard the key in the door and Dean’s boots on the wooden floors as he walked through the house. He smiled when he saw her, walking over quickly and leaning down, kissing her softly.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he muttered against her lips, kissing her again.

“Hey,” she sighed, a relief washing over her now that he was home. “How was work?”

He huffed out a breath as he leaned back against the couch. “Busy. Having the new guy on today didn’t help. I felt like how you must feel with the kids in class, keeping an eye on him most of the time.”

“He’ll get better soon enough, don’t worry,” she reassured him, leaning over and kissing his cheek.

Dean glanced over the coffee table, leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees. “That looks like a lot. You okay? Anything I can help with? Not that I know a damn thing about weddings.”

He smirked with a small laugh, kissing her cheek. Y/N smiled and shook her head, looking down at the table and sighing heavily.

“I keep hitting dead ends with venues, that’s all,” she stated, shrugging.

“Hey.” Getting her attention, he cupped her face in his hands and looked into her eyes. “Everything’s gonna work out. We’ll find something and it’s going to be amazing. I know it.”

She nodded, even though she didn’t really feel better despite his comforting words. “I guess I’m just worried about a lot of this.”

“You know whatever you need from me, I’m here, right? Say the word and I’ll do it,” he told her, his hands leaving her face and taking hers.

“I know,” she whispered, smiling softly at him.

“Don’t worry about anything, sweetheart,” he said, smiling at her. “We got this, okay?”

“I know, I just…” she stopped herself, unsure of how to express herself.

“Something’s wrong,” Dean frowned, sensing something wasn’t right. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” she reassured him, smiling softly. “But… I just need to know you want all of this. I know you keep saying you want me to have the wedding I want, but I want us both to have that, Dean. I want what you want too.”

“Don’t go thinking I don’t want all of this. I wanna do this for you. For us.” he said, smiling reassuringly. “I do. I promise you, I do, sweetheart.”

“Okay.” She nodded, her worried expression morphing into a soft smile.

“Okay, good. Now, take a break from all this stuff and let’s make dinner. Sound good?” he asked, smirking.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling wide as she leaned in and kissed him.

As they got up from the couch and walked into the kitchen to start cooking, Y/N breathed a sigh of relief, as she felt a pressure lift off her. Dean always had a way of doing that. It was incredibly cute to see Dean so excited, even if he didn’t understand what she was saying when she mentioned something to do with the wedding, but he secretly loved getting involved.

They couldn’t wait to get to the big day and start the next part of their journey together.

The doorbell rang, alerting Y/N that her guests for the evening had arrived. It was a Saturday, and unfortunately Dean had to go into work because of some problem with one of the cars, so Y/N was left to do more of the wedding planning herself. Dean felt guilty as he left, but she had assured him that it was more than okay.

She walked to the door and opened it, smiling wide as she saw Mary and John on the other side. They all hugged each other, before Y/N led her into the house.

“So, how are things going?” Mary asked, as they walked into the kitchen where Y/N had been making dinner.

“Things are… stressful,” Y/N replied, huffing a small laugh. “Though I managed to book a venue yesterday, and that’s taken a lot of pressure off. I was going to tell Dean first, but do you guys wanna know?”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Mary exclaimed. “Yes, absolutely!”

Y/N opened her laptop that was kept to the side on the kitchen bench, bringing up the photos of the outdoor venue. “Dean was telling me once that you guys used to drive up here a lot when he and Sam were kids, and I thought I’d try it out. The land is owned by the ranch close by that’s a wedding venue and I asked if we could use this space. They said they had an opening for our date, so I booked it straight away.”

She showed them the photos of a beautiful location, surrounded by trees and a lake. It was perfect for the ceremony, and the clearing nearby would be perfect for the reception.

“Y/N, this is…” John shook his head, speechless as he looked over the photos. “God, the boys used to love going there.”

“Y/N, it’s stunning! Oh, it’s going to a beautiful wedding,” Mary told her, her smile radiant as put her arm around Y/N and brought her close.

“Do you think Dean will like it?” Y/N asked, nervously.

“He definitely will. We used to take the boys fishing there. They never caught a damn thing, but they always loved going,” John replied, reassuringly.

“Okay, good.” Y/N nodded as she closed her laptop. “Because we initially thought about having it here, we don’t have room for 80 people.”

“Well, this is perfect,” Mary said, smiling.

“It is. I can’t wait to show Dean,” Y/N smiled, before standing up and walking into the kitchen to finish preparing dinner.

“Anything I can help with?” Mary asked, leaning against the kitchen island.

“Nope, almost done,” Y/N replied, smiling over at her. “John, there’s beer in the fridge. Mary, wine?”

“I’ll take care of that,” John insisted, taking a beer out before finding the wine Mary liked on the small rack.

In the garage, Dean pulled the Impala up and cut the engine, turning off the car. He sighed tiredly as he leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. It had been a long day, and the last thing he had wanted was to go into work on a Saturday, but being the boss, he was needed. He hated that he couldn’t stay home and help Y/N out with whatever she needed and enjoy time with her, but at least he was back in time to have dinner with her and his parents.

Getting out of the Impala, he locked it and walked around the back of the car to the other side. He tried to slide past his work bench, but rammed right into it, cursing as the edge dug into him, sending a few tools flying to the floor.

“Fuck,” he groaned, closing his eyes.

He blinked a few times, crouching down and picking up the screwdrivers that fell on the floor. As he did, something that had fallen behind the bench caught his eye. He reached behind it, taking out the notebook that had gotten stuck. Opening it, he flipped through the pages, seeing old calculations and notes of his, knowing that they weren't of use now. Suddenly, a page fell out, falling at his feet, with unfamiliar writing on it.

“What…” he mumbled to himself as he held it up, reading over the page properly.

His face fell as he read over the words that were no doubt written by Lisa, recognizing her handwriting now that he could see it properly. She must have used this from his office in their house when she couldn’t find anything else.

Stubborn. Too close to his family. Doesn’t earn enough. Just a mechanic.

It was a pros and cons list. She had made reasons for whether she should stay with him or not. The only thing written on the pros list was that he was a good father figure to Ben. However, the cons outweighed everything as he read over them again. He didn’t earn enough. His job wasn’t good enough. And if that was true then that meant he wasn’t good enough. He knew he shouldn’t care what it said considering he was with Y/N now, and they were engaged, with his relationship with Lisa practically ancient history by now. Yet he couldn’t stop reading over her words.

Crushing the paper into a ball and shoving into his pocket, he shut the notebook, tossing it in the paper basket kept next to the bench. He walked over to the door that led into the house, closing it behind him and walked down the hallway, hearing Y/N’s infectious laugh coming from the living room.

“Hey!” she exclaimed, seeing him enter the room.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to her, kissing her softly as he leaned down. He went over to his parents and hugged them before sitting down next to her.

“How was work?” she asked, smiling at him.

“Tiring,” he replied, huffing slightly, but offered her a smile. “But good. Glad to be home though.”

“Well, I was telling your parents, but I can tell you now,” she started, sharing a smile with John and Mary before she turned back to him. “I found a venue for the wedding.”

“That’s great, sweetheart,” he said, smiling softly as he kissed her again.

Y/N frowned slightly as he pulled away, sensing something wasn’t right with him, but she let it go for now. She hoped that he was just tired from work and that was it.

“Do you want to hear about it?” she asked.

“Yeah, of course,” he replied, too quickly. “Actually, I’m gonna wash up and why don’t you tell me over dinner.”

“Sure,” she agreed, nodding. “Well, food’s ready. We were just waiting on you.”

“Okay,” he muttered, standing up and walking out of the room.

“Does he seem a little off to you?” John questioned, frowning as he looked between Mary and Y/N.

“Something must’ve happened at work,” Y/N sighed, worriedly.

“Well, let’s just hope it’s nothing too serious,” Mary added, her expression matching Y/N’s.

Dean returned after freshening up, just as Y/N, Mary and John walked over to the dining table. They all sat down, each of them taking turns to put food on their plate. They ate in silence, worried eyes glancing between each other and discreetly looking at Dean as he ate. Sensing they needed a distraction first, John and Mary exchanged looks, before she cleared her throat.

“So, we actually have something for both of you,” Mary announced, looking at John, giving him a firm nod.

The elder Winchester took out a small, folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket, and slid it across the wooden table to his son. Dean frowned curiously and Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, as she looked over Dean’s shoulder. He opened it, both of their eyes widening as they saw what it was. He opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to speak.

“That’s from us, and after we spoke to your mom and dad, we decided to split things between us, so there’s should be coming to you soon,” Mary told Y/N, smiling.

“Mary…” Y/N trailed off, shaking her head as she was still in shock. “We can’t accept this cheque-”

“Guys, this is insane,” Dean finally said, frowning as he looked up at his parents.

“I thought you’d say that, but-” Mary started but Dean cut her off.

“We’re not taking it, mom,” he interrupted, his frustration getting the better of him.

“Dean,” Mary sighed, thinking about how to make him understand. “We’ve been sitting on this money since before you started renovating this place. We tried to hint then too, but you didn’t take it, wanting to do everything yourself. Had you never had this place we would’ve given it to you on your wedding day to put towards a house, just like we did with Sam and Eileen. Considering you have this place now, the least we can do is help with the wedding.”

“You’re really sure about this?” Y/N asked, completely unsure if this was a good idea. Clearly Dean wasn’t accepting this.

“Absolutely,” Mary replied, smiling. “And don’t even think about paying it back, it’s for both of you to use, however you want. Put it towards the wedding, if there’s anything left, put it towards the honeymoon, or savings… whatever you want.”

Dean shook his head, the frown still evident on his face. “So what? This is a pity offer?”

“No,” Mary gasped, eyes wide with shock. “Of course not, Dean. How could you think we would do that?”

He scoffed, turning to glare at Y/N. “I don’t make enough money, right? That’s what this is. You asked them for money.”

Y/N looked at him, unable to get over her shock at the way he was reacting. “What? No. No! Dean, how can you think that?”

Dean chuckled bitterly. He looked down at his food, suddenly losing his appetite. He quickly stood up, pushing up his sleeves as he pushed his chair out. Y/N felt her heart banging repeatedly against her ribcage, as she watched him get up.

“We’re not taking this. No fucking way,” he hissed, pushing the cheque back across the surface.

“Dean,” John’s voice bellowed around the room, staring up at his son with a stern expression.

“Dean, we just wanted to contribute, that’s all, honey,” Mary reasoned, trying to calm the situation. “If this is how you feel, then it’s put to bed. Let’s just enjoy dinner.”

“Yeah, damn right that’s how I feel,” he snapped, as he turned to face her.

“I’m sor-” Mary started but he cut her off again, turning to Y/N.

“Do you think I can’t do this for us?” he asked, his voice eerily calm but the shakiness gave away how upset he was, as he faced Y/N.

Her eyes narrowed in upset as she stood up too, looking at him. “Of course I think you can do this, Dean. How could you even question that?”

“Because it’s exactly what it looks like, Y/N!” he yelled. He scoffed and shook his head, scrubbing a hand down his face. “What I do isn’t good enough. I’m not good enough.”

She visibly flinched; her eyes widened as she looked at him. She had never seen him this upset. She felt tears brim her bottom lids, threatening to fall. John and Mary watched on in horror, unable to understand what was going on with their son.

“What?” she scoffed, shaking her head. “How could you possibly think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he muttered, looking away from her, his jaw clenching tight. “And if you haven’t already, you’ll realize it one day.”

“Dean,” she breathed, a tear rolling down her face as she saw how dejected he looked.

“That’s not true.”

“If you don’t want this anymore, Y/N, there were easier ways to tell me,” he spat, turning away from her and storming off.

“Dean, stop! What’s gotten into you?” she yelled, following behind him.

“I can’t fucking do this right now,” he scoffed.

Mary and John were hot on their heels too as they stopped in the entrance, watching Dean pick up his keys and make his way to the door.

“Dean, where are you going?” Y/N asked, choking as a wave of sadness washed over her.

“I can’t be here,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I need to think.”

“Think about what?” Her voice was cracking, the tears finally falling down her face. Everything was falling apart in the span of a few minutes, and she had no idea why. Why was he acting like this?

“I don’t know, Y/N, okay?” he snapped, turning to pin her with a scowl. “I just… I gotta get outta here.” Gesturing around him, he turned to open the door.

His mind was cloudy with all the doubts he was having at that moment. He needed a drink and some time to cool off. He walked through the threshold, not looking back at Y/N.

“Dean, wait-” she started but the door slamming as he left, cut her off.

Y/N felt knots in her stomach, tightening and moving into her chest. She tried to breathe normally but started to feel as if her throat was closing off, cutting off her air supply. Tears stung her eyes as they continued to flow down her face. She began hyperventilating, her hands cupping over her mouth as she began to cry. Her body shook with the force of her sobs. Her legs felt like jelly, like any minute she would collapse and wouldn’t be able to get up again.

“Oh, honey,” Mary whispered, as she wrapped her arms around Y/N tightly.

“I don’t… k-know what I did to-to make him think-” she stuttered, stopping as she sobbed.

“You didn’t do anything, sweetie. I just… There's something wrong. I didn’t think he would act like this. At most, he would be annoyed and then eventually give in. But this?” Mary tried to figure out what was going on, but shook her head as she couldn’t think of what could be wrong with her son.

“I’ll go talk to him,” John offered.

“No, he just needs space to process whatever’s going on in his head,” Y/N sniffled, pulling away from Mary as she looked between them. “You can head home if you want to. I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” John stated, wrapping his arm around her shoulder, and hugging her as she was between him and Mary. “Everything’s gonna be okay, don’t you worry.”

The silence made her mind wander off into irrational directions. Had she done something to make Dean this upset? Had she said anything to make him think he wasn’t good enough? She loved him so much, and she wanted nothing more than to be his wife, but if she had really made him feel that way, then she was the one who wasn’t good enough for him.

She managed to convince John and Mary that she was fine enough for them to leave, insisting they take some food home with them. They said their goodbyes, and Y/N headed upstairs, completely exhausted after the whirlwind evening. As she got changed in the walk-in closet, she felt more tears sting her eyes. They rolled down her face, but she didn’t make a move to wipe them away as she changed.

She just wanted Dean to come home so that they could talk and forget about what just happened.

Dean drove around town for a while, the words he said to Y/N plaguing his mind. He was just so angry after finding that list from Lisa, it just came out in the worst way possible. He reached the regular bar that he would go to with the guys, needing at least one drink to calm himself down.

Sitting down at the bar, he ordered a whiskey double, neat, and gulped the first one down in one shot. Asking for another, he nursed it as he thought about everything that had happened in the past half hour. His anger had dissolved quickly and had morphed into fear. Fear at what he would or wouldn’t find when he got home. As a Queen song played in the background from the jukebox, he quickly realized how much it was mirroring the situation they had found themselves in.

Love of my life, you’ve hurt me

You’ve broken my heart, and now you leave me

Love of my life, can’t you see?

Bring it back, bring it back

Don’t take it away from me

Because you don’t know

What it means to me

He realized how he had overreacted, that his parents, just being the people that they are, would just give the cheque to them. He shouldn’t have taken his anger out on them and Y/N. Hell, she didn’t even know what he was upset about. That considered, he knew that he wasn’t good enough for her, especially now. Taking out his phone, he looked at the screen and saw a few missed calls from her and a few texts. Gulping the lump in his throat, he opened the messages and felt his heart sink into his stomach as he read over them. There were three, and as he read the words over again, he felt tears prick his eyes.

She had nothing to be sorry for. He was the asshole that let things blow out of proportion, all because he let one stupid note get to him. Determined to make it home and fix everything, Dean paid for his drink and left the bar.

He hoped like hell that he hadn’t ruined his whole future in one evening.

Dean entered through the door from the garage. Not a single light was on as he walked further in, seeing the kitchen, dining and living area completely dark. Taking a deep breath, he turned towards the stairs and began the climb to the second floor, knowing he had to face whatever came next, even if he was fearing it so much that his stomach was in knots.

He walked towards their bedroom and stood at the threshold, his heart breaking at what he saw. Only one of the bedside lamps was on, providing the only light in the room. Y/N was lying on the bed, her back to the door, her knees drawn up as she laid in the foetal position, her shoulders shaking. She was sobbing quietly, the sounds low but somehow so loud in the quiet room. With every cry, a piece of his heart felt like it was shattering into smaller shards.

He moved slowly towards the bed, sitting down on the edge, watching as her head slowly turned. Her eyes were red and puffy, wet from the tears she had shed. She looked at him, sitting up slowly, their eyes meeting. Suddenly, she launched herself into him, wrapping her arms around him tightly, crying into the crook of his neck. He felt tears prick his eyes, letting a few escape as he felt his sadness wash over him.

“Y/N,” he choked out. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I never should’ve said the things that I did, I shouldn’t have reacted that way.”

“I was so scared,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m sorry for whatever I did, please, just tell me.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, pulling her away and cupping her face, looking her deep in the eyes. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m so sorry.”

“How could you ever doubt how I feel about you?” she asked, her voice croaky from how much she had cried. “How could you ever think you’re not good enough for me? What did I do to make you think that?”

“You didn’t do anything, sweetheart. I promise. This was… this was all me and my crap,” he said, shaking his head.

“What did I do to make you doubt me?” she cried, fresh tears making tracks down her face.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” he reassured her, frantically moving towards her, grasping her shoulders. “You didn’t do anything, okay? This… this is the reason I overreacted.”

She frowned as he handed her the paper, but opened the folded page and read over the words written on there. She was confused, knowing she didn’t write this, her eyebrows lifting in realization as she read over the “pros” column.

“I’ll kill her,” she growled, looking up at him with a ferocity in her eyes. “I’ll… God, I wanna hurt her!”

Y/N stood up from the bed and paced the floor, her whole body shaking with how angry she was at that moment. She couldn’t believe that something like this could come between them, showing that Lisa still had a grip on Dean’s mind.

“She doesn’t get to do this to you anymore, Dean!” she yelled, holding up the piece of paper. “She doesn’t get to ruin our future!”

He scoffed a chuckle, shaking her head. “I nearly let her.”

“So, don’t,” Y/N said, walking up to him. She cupped his face in her hands, making him look up at her as he sat on the bed. “You are good enough for me. Every part of you. I love you for exactly who you are, and if I have to spend the rest of our lives together trying to convince you that you’re my one, my everything, that there’s not a doubt in my mind that you’re so right for me, then I’ll do it.”

Wrapping her arms around him, his forehead rested against her chest as she laid her cheek on his head. She held him tightly, neither of them wanting to move away from the other.

“I’m sorry, I’m an idiot,” he muttered, his hands on her hips, feeling the material of his black t-shirt she was wearing against his skin. “I just saw that cheque, and I thought about that list, and I just overreacted.”

“No, you’re not,” she stated, kissing the top of his head. “You were upset.”

“That’s no excuse,” he whispered, hating himself for taking it out on her. “You didn’t deserve that. I uh… I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to end this-”

“Dean, stop,” she choked out, pressing her forehead to his, combing her hand through his hair.

He shook his head, lifting it to look into her eyes. “I’ve been… I’ve been thinking about this even before finding that list. I’m always scared I’m gonna say or do something to give you a reason to leave me. If that happened… I know I wouldn’t survive it.”

Y/N frustratedly wiped her tears away, looking around the room for her sweats. Finding them, she roughly pulled them on and slipped on her sneakers, putting on a light shirt over the black t-shirt she was wearing. Dean watched her; confusion riddled his face as she moved around the room.

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” he asked, his voice wavering as his mind started to make up horrific scenarios.

“Come with me,” she said, firmly, a determined look on her face as she held her hand out.

“Where are we-” he started but she cut him off, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the bed.

“Shut up,” she muttered, scowling as she dragged him behind her, down the stairs and out of the house, just as she picked up her keys from the table at the entrance.

Knowing he couldn’t argue when she looked so distressed, he followed behind her as they made their way to her car.

“Get in,” she demanded, harshly.

He was shaking, wondering what the hell had come over her suddenly but again did as he was told without saying anything that would possibly make her angrier than he already had. He couldn’t tell what he had done, but she was upset with him.

Dean looked on in silence as Y/N backed out and turned the car, the tires screeching as she sped off down the road. He gulped as she drove, his mind trying to talk itself out of thinking she was possibly going to kill him and dump his body somewhere. However, he also found her anger strangely arousing. They drove ten minutes before he recognized that she wasn’t going to do that, and that she had turned down a very familiar street. They drove past several houses before she stopped, pulling the car up to the curb and cutting the engine.

“Get out,” she ordered, leaving the keys in the ignition and opening the driver’s side door, slamming it shut as she stood on the road.

He got out, closing the passenger door and following behind her, looking around the dark street and quickly realizing they were standing in front of her previous rental house, just across from his and Lisa’s, all that time ago. She pulled at his jacket and he stumbled, straightening when she pulled him to stand in a specific spot next to the curb. She looked up at him, standing directly in front of him as the deep glare, her eyes riddled with sadness, was still on her face.

“Do you remember what happened here?” she asked, her eyes welling with unshed tears.

Frowning, he shook his head as he was unable to think straight, his mind clouded by the sudden change in her demeanour. “Y/N, I-”

“Do you remember what happened here, Dean?” she repeated, her voice cracking slightly as she raised it.

He sighed, glancing between the two houses, giving her a curt nod. “Of course I do.”

“Tell me,” she ordered, not breaking her eye contact with him, the scowl still present.

“It’s…” he cleared his throat, pushing down the lump in his throat as he looked at her. “It’s where I helped you with your stuff. It’s… it’s where we met.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, a tear rolling down her face as she nodded slowly. “And it’s also where my life changed forever. Even if I didn’t know it at the time.”

“Y/N,” he breathed, trying to reach for her hand but she pulled away, making his heart sink. She had never done that. Never.

“Do you remember what was happening in that house?” she asked, the tears flowing freely down her face as she looked across the street.

He looked over, breathing heavily, his breath shaky as he exhaled but said nothing. He remembered all too well.

“You thought you were happy. You thought everything was fine… but you were losing yourself because of-” she choked, shaking her head, overwhelmed as she thought about those early days and her first impressions of his relationship with Lisa. “Because of her, and you didn’t even know it.”

He was silent, unable to say anything or even try to deny it, because he knew it was true. Turning his head to Y/N, he saw her looking up at him, the glare finally disappearing, her eyes holding a determined look despite the tears.

“And now, you could lose yourself because of her again if you don’t stop yourself from thinking that she's right,” she stated, stepping closer to him. “She was never right and she never will be. She didn’t know you like I do. She didn’t love you like I do. She’s gone from our lives… so don’t bring her back into it by going back into the shell she put you in.”

His jaw clenched as he shut his eyes, squeezing them tight as a tear slipped down his right cheek. Lifting her hand, she cupped his cheek and brushed it away with her thumb, stroking his jaw. She pushed up on her tiptoes, capturing his plump lips between hers, kissing him hard and desperately. She needed him to see there was nothing there to leave him over.

Pulling away from the kiss but keeping close, she looked at him as her thumbs stroked along his cheeks. “You’ll never give me a reason to leave you. Not now, not ever.”

“You got a lot of confidence in me, sweetheart,” he muttered, a slight scoff in his tone.

She smiled softly, knowing that if he couldn’t see it himself, she’d spend forever showing him he was worth more than he gave himself credit for.

“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “I do.”

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.

“Don’t be,” she whispered back, her eyes closing, content to be close to him again. “We’re going to be okay.”

“You think so?” he asked, his voice laced with hope, as he lifted his head to look at her properly.

“I know so,” she replied, a soft smile on her face. “You’re not getting rid of me any time soon, Winchester.”

“You still wanna marry me after that?” he asked, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Yes,” she said, simply as she pushed herself closer into him. “You can’t let something she thought affect you because it’s not true. It doesn’t matter what she thinks. So… promise me, right now, that you’re going to let this go. All that matters is you and me.”

Looking deep into her eyes, he remembered everything they had been through together, and thought about all the amazing things they still had to experience. He wasn’t going to let someone from his past ruin his future.

“I promise,” he said, firmly.

She smiled up at him, moving in and capturing his lips, kissing him passionately. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispered. “So fucking much.”

“Let’s go home,” she whispered back, stroking her hand lightly over the back of his head. “I think I need to show you just how much I love you.”

He hummed against her lips, kissing her softly. “Yes, please.”

She laughed, biting her lip. “I scared you a little, didn’t I?”

“Well, when I didn’t think about how you could be plotting to kill me,” he joked, smirking as she chuckled, “it was kinda hot to see you pissed off.”

She shook her head, rolling her eyes as she giggled. “You’re crazy.”

“Hey,” he called out, pulling her closer, his hands sliding down to her hips. “I can’t help the fact that it turned me on, sweetheart. It’s just the magic of you.”

She felt her cheeks heat up, pressing her lips together as she tried not to smile. “Let’s go before someone sees us out here.”

Hand in hand, they walked back to the car, separating as they got in. He glanced back at the old house once more, feeling an enormous weight lift off him as he looked at the place that held a lot of pain before Y/N came along. That weight had resurfaced when he saw that list that Lisa had made, but as she always did, Y/N had been there to stop him from losing his way. She was the one who built him back up to the person that he used to be, the one who reignited his spirit. He had known early on how special she was, and she proved time and time again that she was there to stay.

And now, he was never going to lose sight of that. He let Lisa get into his head again, but for the final time, he was putting an end to that. He had someone by his side who wanted to be with him forever, and he was never going to forget that ever again.

Y/N sat at the dining table the next morning, her coffee in hand, all of her plans for the wedding spread out in front of her. She smiled as she sent a few texts out to the girls, asking them if they were available the next weekend to start looking for her wedding dress. As she was looking at photos, she flinched slightly, feeling Dean’s lips against her neck, moving down to her exposed shoulder, the sleeve of his t-shirt she was wearing having slipped down.

“Oh my god, Dean, don’t look!” she yelled, hiding her screen with her hands.

He chuckled, shaking his head as he sat down beside her. “Babe, you haven’t even found a dress yet. I’m pretty sure it’s okay if I can see those.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to see in case I do find something like this,” she explained, smiling sheepishly. “I want to surprise you.”

He smiled as he leaned forward, kissing her softly. “You’re gonna knock me out no matter what dress you pick. Just sayin’.”

“Even if I look like a frosted cupcake?” she teased, giggling.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, his lips hovering close to hers. “‘Cause then you’ll look good enough to eat.”

“That’s so cheesy,” she snorted, laughing.

“You love it,” he grinned, chuckling along with her.

She pressed her lips to his, kissing him lightly but he had other plans, his arms wrapping around her and pulling her off her chair, onto his lap. She moaned softly against his lips as his fingers ran lightly over her bare thighs, the t-shirt riding up as she straddled him.

“So…” she pulled away from the kiss, reaching for the cheque on the table and showing it to him. “What do we want to do with this?”

“We use it,” he replied, nodding confidently as he smirked. “If there’s any left, we save it for the future, including anything your parents are sending.”

She beamed, brushing her knuckles against his cheek. “Sounds good.”

As they sat there together, having breakfast and coffee as they talked about the plans, Dean was leaving all the negative thoughts behind with the confidence that the woman sitting next to him wasn’t going anywhere. With the promises already made the previous night, he smiled as he thought about all the new ones he would make on the day she finally became his wife.

On the day the next chapter of their lives started.

A chapter he couldn’t wait to explore with Y/N by his side.

-x-

Tags: @deanwanddamons​ // @winchest09​ // @downanddirtydean​ // @jensengirl83​ // @wonder-cole​ // @that-one-gay-girl​ // @whatareyousearchingfordean​ // @flamencodiva​ // @danneelsmain​ // @ellewritesfix05​ // @roonyxx​ // @akshi8278​ //@hobby27​ // @michellethetvaddict​ // @spngirl05​ // @kyjey​ // @440mxs-wife​ // @stoneyggirl​ // @stoneyggirl2​​ // @deanswaywardgirl​​ // @redbarn1995​​ // @marianita195​ // @babypink224221​​ // @deans-baby-momma​​ // @parinarain​​ // @thoughts-and-funnies​​ // @mandalou29​​ // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt​​ // @supernatural-love14​​ // @vicmc624​​ // @prettyboyswow​​ // @lunarmoon8​​ // @irmcpar​​ // @compresshischest09​​ // @weepingwillowphoenix​​ // @xlynnbbyx​​ // @whiskey-infused-dreams​​ // @perpetualabsurdity​​ // @verytoadpapersoul​​ // @pink-sparkly-witch​​ //

[writers-worst-nightmare]

Welcome to the internet

PLATONIC TOMMY X READER

Summery: y/n is older then Tommy, and once Tommy gets to his reach of fame y/n finally shows him the mess that the internet really is

A/N: this song is just *chefs kiss*

Warning(s): mentions of racism, cussing, minor talks about murder, it mentions rule 34…soooo…..do with that what you must (“and a bunch of colored pencil drawings of all the different character of Harry Potter fucking each other“ is the line)

You slid in front of Tommy and placed on a large smile on your face, dragging Tommy to your computer you started humming slightly.

“Welcome to the internet! Have a look around Anything that brain of yours can think of can be found We've got mountains of content—some better, some worse If none of it's of interest to you, you'd be the first”

You exclaimed happily, Tommy nodded in agreement before laughing.

”My job is streaming for the internet to see, of course I know that!” Tommy brushed off. You laughed breathlessly a little bit before saying again

“Welcome to the internet! Come and take a seat”

you offered, patting the chair next to you. Tommy happily accepted and sat down on the chair next to you.

“Would you like to see the news or any famous women's feet?”

You asked as you pulled up countless of pictures of fake News that spread like wildfires greedily licking up all the little things that celebrities said and putting them out of context, or just making up random shit and posting it on their new magazine cover to get more people to but their products that they got. Then, you quickly pulled up pictures of women getting sexualized for practically nothing. Through all of this, Tommy just stood their in silence, frozen still.

“There's no need to panic; this isn't a test, haha Just nod or shake your head, and we'll do the rest”

Tommy, still frozen, looked at the screen as you got ready to pull up more pages of the internet

“Welcome to the internet! What would you prefer?”

You proceed, quickly typing some things in on your keyboard before clicking “enter“ and showing Tommy what you mean Whenever you say that you need a break from the internet and take a couple months (or even years when it gets really bad) of not posting or anything.

”Would you like to fight for civil rights?”

You showed Tommy the BLM movement. Tommy smiled and nodded his head ‘yes.’

“Or tweet a racial slur?”

You showed the countless of tweets that showed up as famous celebrities posted about how the BLM movement was stupid.

“Why would I do that—“ Tommy was cut off by you picking up your speech a little.

“Be happy!”

You opened up the Spotify app

”Be horny!”

You opened up the Wattpad app

”Be bursting with rage!”

you opened up Twitter once more

“We’ve got a million ways to engage!”

You cheered as you showed Tommy the different apps and internet searches you could go off of.

“Well, yes, I know that but isn’t there a different way to—“ Tonly was cut off again by you explaining more.

“Welcome to the internet! Put your cares aside”

You seemed to e going slightly more irritated with yourself as you kept on going.

“Here's a tip for straining pasta;”

Tommy relaxed a little as you put up tips for straining pasta, maybe there was only a tiny part of the internet that was bad.

“here's a nine-year-old who died”

You pulled up countless of articles, and Tommy’s breath caught in his throat as he stared down at the mess of the internet. One minute was pasta and the other is was death? What the fuck!?

”We've got movies and doctors and fantasy sports”

Tommy looked bewildered, as if the fact about a ton of nine-year-olds dying was the same as saying it was a sunny day outside.

“And a bunch of colored-pencil drawings of all the different characters in Harry Potter fucking each other”

”I—I beg your fucking pardon!?” Tommy exclaimed looking even more baffled.

”Welcome to the internet! Hold on to your socks 'Cause a random guy just kindly sent you photos of his cock They are grainy and off-putting; he just sent you more Don't act surprised—you know you like it, you whore”

”Y/n….what has been happening!?” Tommy yelled as he stared at you in a worried expression.

“See a man beheaded, get offended, see a shrink Show us pictures of your children, tell us every thought you think Start a rumor, buy a broomer, send a death threat to a boomer Or DM a girl and groom her; do a zoomer find a tumor in your— Here's a healthy breakfast option, you should kill your mom Here's why women never fuck you; here's how you can build a bomb Which Power Ranger are you? Take this quirky quiz Obama sent the immigrants to vaccinate your kids”

Tears started to fall from your eyes as you stared down at the phone that held internet.

“Could I interest you in everything all of the time? A little bit of everything all of the time Apathy's a tragedy, and boredom is a crime Anything and everything all of the time Could I interest you in everything all of the time? A little bit of everything all of the time Apathy's a tragedy, and boredom is a crime Anything and everything all of the time”

You rambled on as the phone shook in your hands violently.

“Not very long ago, just before your time Right before the towers fell, circa '99 This was catalogs, travel blogs, a chatroom or two We set our sights and spent our nights waiting for you! You, insatiable you Mommy let you use her iPad; you were barely two And it did all the things we designed it to do Now, look at you! Oh, look at you! You, you! Unstoppable, watchable Your time is now, your inside's out, honey, how you grew And if we stick together, who knows what we'll do? It was always the plan to put the world in your hand”

You let out a weak smiling, remembering all the good memories that you had almost forgotten. They almost faded in the back of your head and lost.

Could I interest you in everything all of the time? A bit of everything all of the time Apathy's a tragedy, and boredom is a crime Anything and everything all of the time Could I interest you in everything all of the time? A little bit of everything all of the time Apathy's a tragedy, and boredom is a crime Anything and everything and anything and everything And anything and everything and All of the time

[wondersofdreaming]

Keepsake

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person)

Word count: 1.827

Warnings: Death, loss, hopelessness, light cursing, sadness, melancholy, grief, heartache, mourning.

Author’s note: This story was inspired by the song 'Everglow' by Coldplay.

Do me a favour and listen to the song, while reading this, I'll link to the different versions, depending on your mood.

Everglow (original) by Coldplay

Everglow (acoustic) by Coldplay

Everglow (instrumental) by Alexandre Pachabezian

The links are for Spotify, if they don't work try this link for YouTube

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the wife, son and Elijah Reed, who are figments of my imagination.

A massive, MASSIVE, thank you to my beloved angel, @radaofrivia, for giving me the idea from just a few thoughts, for sitting through with me while I wrote this, for giving me advice and for just being there.

Please check out her stories right here: RADA'S MASTERLIST

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

(Young Syverson, picture credit to @killjoy-assbutt-1112 - find it here)

Oh, they say people come Say people go This particular diamond was extra special And though you might be gone And the world may not know Still I see you, celestial

Lyrics are from Everglow by Coldplay.

The looming grey clouds were moving closer towards him. He could hear the distant sounds of the rumbling thunder. Before long it started to rain and lightning lit up the entire house. The dirt road was flooded in no time, giving the crops the liquid nourishment they needed.

The former army captain was restless. It was on days like these he missed him, more than anything else in the world. He couldn’t sit still and had planned on working on the house, but the coming storm was putting a stop to that. Instead, he sat on the porch swing he built with Elijah when Lucas bought the house.

The Syversons had moved to their farm when Lucas was 4. A few days into the move, their neighbours had stopped by with some casserole, and to welcome them to their community. Mr and Mrs Reed also had a son who was a few months younger than Luc. Elijah had hidden behind his mother’s leg, a little shy, but with some encouragement he greeted Lucas.

“I’m Lucas, but my baby sister can’t say it yet, she keeps babbling Luc, so if it’s easier, you can call me Luc too.”

“I’m Elijah.”

Sy remembered he was trying so hard to pronounce his new friend’s name. He smiled at the memory, the name had been permanent in Lucas’ mind, only using Elijah, when he was mad at him or thinking he was about to do something stupid, which he did often.

“Lija, wanna play?” Lucas asked awkwardly.

“What?” Elijah looked profoundly confused. “I… don’t know.”

“Go on, son. It’s okay,” Mr Reed tried to encourage him.

“Come with me, Lija. I wanna show ya somethin’.”

Lucas had shown Elijah his new toy tractor that his parents had given him for his birthday. The two young boys had played together, and before long were inseparable.

A round yellow object in the palm of his hand. He was fiddling with it. The coin was always in his pocket, so he could keep his best friend close to him at all times. It was an old arcade coin that you could plot into any machine and play one game.

The two best friends had each gotten a dollar’s worth of coins, but the man at the ticket booth had miscounted, so Sy had gotten an extra coin, which the two friends had fought over during their time in the arcade. Lucas being the protector he was, lost to Elijah on purpose, so his friend won the coin.

“I’ll savour it, it’s going to be my lucky coin!” Elijah has announced.

Syverson swung the porch swing with his booted foot. He stared at the coin, wondering why he had been the lucky one. Luc shook his head faintly, his face full of pain and sorrow.

The coin became a thing that decided their fate. When the boys couldn’t agree on something, they would flip the coin. The picture side was heads and the text ‘No cash value’ side was tails. It might have been worth nothing, but it was a priceless item to the two friends.

“Heads: I ask her on a date, tails: you ask her,” Elijah flipped the yellow coin and covered the back of his hand as it landed. The two teenagers looked over at the brunette cheerleader, who was laughing with her friends. Prom was upon them and they both wanted to ask her. Elijah lifted his hand, it was heads.

The dumb coin was always on Elijah’s side. Lucas let out a soft laughter of the memory. Elijah’s face had been priceless, Sy wished he had taken a picture of it. It had been Elijah’s first kiss that night.

When Lucas decided to enlist, Elijah followed him, even with a lot of arguing against it from Sy’s side. He didn’t want his best friend anywhere near a warzone but in the end, he was glad that Lija was there with him through every hardship during training, when they lost people on their team, when they had to carry the dead back to base, it was better to have a friend by your side and share the pain with.

It didn’t take Syverson long to rank up and become captain. He ended up leading a large group of soldiers in a village in Iraq, with Elijah as his lieutenant, he felt like he could conquer the world.

During one of their trips home, Sy had bought a house he wanted to renovate, maybe start a family in. Elijah had spent every moment he could, helping Lucas with the house. It had made them closer as friends, and they had heartfelt talks about their future. Elijah wanted to come home and help his ailing parents with the farm, maybe get into breeding horses, preferably racehorses. Sy hadn’t thought of his future in that sense by then. He just wanted to relax, drink beer and ride his motorcycle.

There was hardly a moment in Lucas’ life where Elijah wasn’t a part of it. Elijah was his best friend, and if he had to be a little girly, they were BFFs. His best friend’s presence had made every moment special, made them better. It was the hardest part, to not have Elijah by his side anymore. He missed Elijah’s silly, huge and sometimes irritating grin, which somehow made the world seem a bit brighter during the dark times. Elijah made his life easier… he just made it better to have a friend to share everything with.

His heart had broken in a million pieces when the building collapsed on top of his best mate.

“Captain, we need a scouting team. I’m taking three soldiers towards those buildings and see if there are enemies up ahead,” Elijah had suggested.

“Lieutenant, I make the orders here. I’m going,” Lucas commanded.

“Heads or tails, Luc,” Elijah picked out the coin from his breast pocket.

“This is no time for such thing, Lija,” the captain grumbled.

“This is the perfect time, Luc. We promised that whenever we couldn’t agree on something, we would use the coin. So, heads or tails, captain Syverson.”

“Heads.”

The coin had landed on the tails side. Lucas had cursed the coin, fuck, shit, crap, dammit!

“It’s my turn to protect you, Luc. I’m not the scrawny little kid anymore, let me show you!”

Elijah had gathered three soldiers and run between two concrete buildings with a big smile on his face. Sy would never forget the smile. It was a grin of pride and determination. And it was the last time Lucas would ever see his best friend.

Moments later a huge explosion shook the ground they were standing on. Sy watched with horror as the buildings collapsed, trapping Elijah and his team. What they didn’t know then was that the impact with the concrete walls had killed him instantly.

The rest of the soldiers watched as their captain went on his knees. Utter despair and anguish plastered on his face, tears about to escape the corners of his eyes. The usual strict army captain, the man with the muscles, the tough guy who could break you with a stare, was breaking down.

“Lija…” he whispered into the dust-filled space, his voice breathless like somebody knocked the air out of his lungs.

At night he had screamed in pain of the loss of his most beloved friend. His days were filled with hopelessness as he prepared to fly home with Elijah’s corpse in a coffin. The nights only brought nightmares, so he started writing a letter to his best friend and thinking of how to tell Elijah’s parents.

“Dear Lija. I can’t believe you’re… Shit, I can’t even write the word. Just a four-letter word, and yet I can’t fucking write it down on a piece of paper. I wish I could have taken your place, man. It should have been me. I hate you for forcing me to pick a side on that stupid coin. I hate you for being so brave. I hate you for wanting to protect me. Fuck you for dying. Fuck you for leaving me. Here. All alone. What about your parents? How am I going to tell them that you’re… how am I going to face them? You are and will always be my best friend. I wish you could go back to your parent’s farm on your own two legs, not in a fucking box. I miss you, Lija. You’re the closest thing to a brother I will ever get. So rest in peace and keep the seat next to you warm, I’ll see you on the other side. - Luc.”

Lucas had sneaked the letter into Elijah’s breast pocket of his uniform before they had shut the coffin. The coin that Elijah had on him, had been put in a plastic bag with the rest of his belongings, prepped to be given to his next of kin, his parents. But Lucas took the yellow token. He needed a memento to remember his best friend by, something that he could keep with him always. A keepsake.

It had taken every ounce of courage for Lucas to step up to the front door of the Reed’s farmhouse. A house he was so familiar with and had so many adventurous sleepovers in Elijah’s space-themed bedroom. He could smell Mrs Reed’s famous peanut brittle, making it harder for him to knock, but he did it anyway. Standing there in his military uniform, he told the two people, who had acted as a second set of parents to him, that their only son had died heroically in battle. Lucas stood frozen, watching them mourn the loss of their son. He was about to step away to give them space, but Mrs Reed grabbed his wrist and brought him into the hug.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t protect him,” he pleaded, his voice breaking slightly.

“Was he in pain?” Mrs Reed asked, breaking Lucas’ heart all over again.

“No, ma’am. It happened really fast.”

Sy fiddled with the arcade coin. Having zoned out the thunder, not noticing the storm had come and gone. The sun was slowly setting on the horizon. It was a peaceful ending to an emotional day.

A loud wailing came from inside the house. The front door opened and out came his beautiful wife with their young son in her arms. His face was stained in tears. The tiny boy reached towards his father the minute he saw him. In his father’s arms was the only place the boy was happy and content. Sy’s face broke into a happy grin at the sight of his son. His tiny fingers trying to grab the coin in the former captain’s hand.

“This,” Sy showed it to his son, “will be yours when you’re old enough not to eat it.”

He chuckled at the frustrated look on the boy’s face. Sy kissed the top of his son’s head.

“I love you, Elijah.”