#i’ll get to the rest of the LIS cast eventually i swear

[ph7soy]

nathan prescott: moodboard + mixtape

── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ──

I. shame

what a drag, beautiful and sad, a graveyard in the sun

fucking up, you just self-destruct, abandoned and undone

the heart is a monument to a childhood of abuse

the quiet suffering that knows no one wants you

II. fear

i pack a little pistol on my pistol belt, i think it might be fear

of the world and the way it makes you feel afraid

under the skin, against the skull

they put a little chip so that they know it all

III. mania

i am the one you left for dead (say you wanted to)

you are the bullet in my head

and as you stand over my grave (tell me it’s okay)

am i losing my mind? yeah (‘cause i can’t tell)

[forasecondtherewedwon]

Guest Side Story

Fandom: The Falcon and the Winter Soldier Pairing: Bucky Barnes/Sarah Wilson Rating: T Word Count: 3214

Summary: Sam told Bucky not to flirt with Sarah. But this is her house, so Bucky's pretty sure she makes the rules.

Bucky’s missed white lies. Ones that don’t hurt anybody.

“Is that cigarette smoke I smell on your coat, James Barnes?” “No, Ma. ’Course not.”

“And you’re sure this dame knows it’s my arm she’ll be on?” “Sure, Steve. She’s been after me to fix the two of you up for weeks.”

Stuff like that.

Past few years, Bucky’s either been transparent or a brick wall, all lies or all truth. Which one he loses more sleep over just depended on the day. The most human thing, he’s learning, is to work with a little of both: fact and fiction. Give something here, hold something back there. Lying doesn’t have to be mean-spirited and telling the truth doesn’t have to make him feel hollow and guilty. Maybe you can only realize this kinda thing when you find your way home, even if the home isn’t yours.

Bucky’s standing in the kitchen listening to Cass teach him how to fish. It’s purely theoretical, no gear involved, just the overexaggerated motion of Cass’s arm as he mimes casting. Laughing, Bucky lightly grabs the boy’s elbow before it can collide with the refrigerator on an especially big swing. Cass downsizes his demonstration without pausing the excited flow of his instructions.

AJ catches Bucky’s eye; from the look on his face, he’s beginning to suspect that Bucky might already know how to fish. While Cass is focused hard on his hands pretending to show how to fit live bait onto a hook, Bucky smiles at AJ over the smaller boy’s head and raises a finger to his lips. White lies. Let Cass believe he’s the expert.

When Cass is winding down, Bucky moves around him with a grin, carrying an empty plate to the sink.

“I got it!” AJ declares, whisking it from Bucky’s hand and pumping a squirt of dish soap in the center while his other hand runs the hot water.

Cass slotted the Pop-Tarts the plate lately held into the toaster for him (no better end-of-the-day snack, Bucky was told) and now AJ’s cleaning up. They’re a hospitable family, all day long. No phoniness, no insincere offers of help that they’re hoping Bucky won’t take them up on. He actually had to race the kids to the shed to store a toolbox earlier. On the boat, Bucky has room to put in the effort for the Wilsons, but inside the walls of their home he’s not allowed to do a damn thing because he’s a guest. Per square foot of property, he doesn’t think he’s ever been treated this well in someone else’s house.

“Fine,” Bucky concedes, “but I’m doing all the dishes tomorrow—breakfast, lunch, and dinner. And don’t get up early to drink a glass of orange juice and try to wash it before I’m awake, ’cause I’ll be listening.”

The boys giggle and Bucky leans against the counter, hovering while AJ hands the plate off for Cass to wipe dry and pretending not to listen to Sam and Sarah talking in the next room.

…But there isn’t a full wall separating the kitchen from the living room and Sam knows Bucky’s hearing’s good, right? He doesn’t think they’re discussing anything that private and if Sam’s annoyed with him later for what he supposes Bucky might’ve heard, Bucky’ll just offer up another white lie and swear he couldn’t hear a thing. And Sarah… Sarah wouldn’t think any worse of him if she knew. Bucky imagines she’d have a lot of compassion for his frequent urge to give Sam a hard time just for the hell of it. He flicks a quick glance over his shoulder, just to see her, and concentrates on what they’re saying, giving himself vague permission because he overheard his name.

“This was your idea,” Sarah’s saying. “You brought the stray cat home, just like when we were kids.”

“Don’t compare him to something cute,” Sam complains. Bucky’s mouth tenses to keep his smile from spreading too far.

“He is a guest in my home, Sam, and he’s more than earned it after the work he’s been putting in with the boat.”

“And what about the work you’ve been putting in watching him do that work?”

“Sam. Grow up.” Sarah’s voice is playful and Bucky almost turns, wondering what her expression looks like.

“So you’ve just been appreciating his skill with a wrench and some sandpaper,” Sam says skeptically.

“If I’m also appreciating his shoulders in that shirt— if—” she emphasizes when Sam tries to interrupt, “—it’s nobody’s business but mine.”

“Ok, you definitely can’t have him sleeping on the couch.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do? Try to sneak him to my bedroom after lights out? With you listening, trying to catch us? Uh uh. Your sister is a grown woman with two children, a home, and a boat she couldn’t manage to sell, and she can lust where she damn well pleases.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh and AJ gives him a funny look. Kid’s too perceptive.

“He’s tricky,” Sam lectures. “You can’t see it, but I do. I’ve been around him a hell of a lot more. You think he smiles like that at everybody? If he smiles at me at all, I gotta assume he just looked up and saw a meteor hurtling towards where we’re standing and is only smiling because we’ve got seconds to live and I won’t be able to tell anybody.”

“You are hilarious.”

“No, I’m not.”

“You’re telling me your friend is charming. That’s what you’re describing. Don’t I deserve to be charmed? Where else is he gonna sleep, huh? With you? In one of the boys’ little beds while they share the other one? Because I know you’re not suggesting we skip the pretense and put him right in with me.”

Sam lets out a noise of obvious frustration.

“Time to intervene,” Bucky tells Cass and AJ, leaving them to swap confused shrugs in the kitchen as he saunters into the living room.

“Hey,” Sam greets stonily, arms crossed over his chest.

Just for fun, Bucky decides to be all the friendlier.

“It’s so great of you to put me up. Thanks, Sarah. This beats a hotel by a mile.”

“Our gourmet kitchen does offer an impressive range of sugary cereal,” she jokes. “I might even cook you boys a special breakfast tomorrow before you head back to the dock.”

Bucky’s grin widens.

“Oh yeah? I wouldn’t wanna—”

“No, it’s no trouble—”

“Well, that would be—”

“Both of you stop it,” Sam orders.

“Sam, go outside,” Sarah orders right back. “Play some tag with your nephews.”

“Sarah, I’m beat. We’ve been working on that boat all day.”

“Mhmm, you and the rest of the neighbourhood. You worked all day and you come home and there’s still two kids to entertain. But guess what?” She smiles deviously at her brother and throws a few fake punches at his stomach. “You’re Sam Wilson, the Falcon! Looks like you’re special after all. Me and Bucky here know you’ve still got some gas in the tank. Go on.”

Sam looks fairly planted to the spot as he glares from his sister to Bucky, but he eventually moves with a lurching step.

“I’m gonna be right outside,” he warns.

Bucky sidesteps out of his path and says nothing, though it’s hard to resist the instinct to egg him on.

“We’re gonna have a super-secret discussion about which towels he can use,” Sarah goads at her brother’s back.

Sam ignores her, corralling his nephews in the kitchen and guiding them out the door into the fading daylight with a hand on each of their narrow backs.

“Great kids,” Bucky observes.

Sarah nods, watching her family disappear, then turns to him.

“We’re not really gonna talk about towels.”

“No?”

Bucky’s eyebrows rise in surprise and delighted anticipation until Sarah grabs a folded blanket off the back of the couch and passes it to him.

“We’re making up the couch.”

“Oh.”

This is ok too. Actually, really nice, standing next to Sarah and unfolding the blanket as she stuffs a pillow into a clean case. Her eyes find his already on her and he swears he almost blushes; he’s been smoothing out the same crease in this blanket for a good thirty seconds with no result, just watching her easy movements, the way she flips her braids back when they fall forward over her shoulder.

“I hope you’re comfortable,” she says, lingering once they’re done.

“I woulda slept on the floor. A closet, even, like Harry Potter.”

“You read Harry Potter? Don’t tell the boys—they’ll be bugging you to play wizards with them.”

Bucky laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, I just watched the movie.”

“Which one?”

“There’s more than one?”

“You really better not bring it up then,” Sarah advises. “They’d try to tell you everything at once.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to get in out of my depth.”

It feels like a significant look they exchange after his words. Bucky wants it to be—he thinks he does—but he feels awkward, romantically clumsy. Heartstrings tied together like shoelaces, waiting to trip him up. He’s been telling himself she’s only being kind, but after eavesdropping on her conversation with Sam, he knows she’s interested. In his shoulders at the very minimum. Was that right? His shoulders? Just in case, Bucky does his best to square them. Can’t hurt.

He’s fucking ecstatic when Sarah does glance down briefly, her gaze returning to his face with something flustered in it. Sure, she’s a mom and she runs a business, but it’s like she told Sam: she deserves to be charmed. Bucky’s not entirely sure he’s doing it right though.

“So,” she says, “Sam was just being a pain when he tried to convince me you can’t sleep on the couch because you’ve got a bad back, right?”

Bucky sighs but keeps smiling. It’s natural in her presence.

“I’d say that’s him making old-man jokes about me.”

“I apologize for my brother and his bad manners.”

“Ah, he’s not totally wrong,” he concedes, perching on the arm of the couch. “These last few birthdays have required more candles than you could fit on a cake.”

“Then you just have to get yourself a bigger cake.”

Bucky laughs.

“I guess optimism’s pretty much a family trait?”

“We work at it. They say you need to take the good with the bad, but they don’t tell you that means creating the good out of nothing a lot of the time, if you want any at all. The Wilsons worked that out some time ago, so we mostly do alright.”

“It’s a good feeling to be around,” he tells Sarah earnestly. Clearing his throat, he gets to his feet. “Feels good, being around you.”

“We’re… I’m happy you could stay with us.”

The light’s softened in the room and her voice has gone with it. Bucky shifts on his feet.

“It’s a pleasure to be here,” he assures her.

Sarah’s eyelashes flutter when she looks from his mouth to his eyes. Probably too try-hard to bite his lip now. God, Sam thinks Bucky’s so suave with Sarah, but it feels like he’s only got one move and it’s fucking smiling. Some Casanova he is. Sarah, meanwhile, is beautiful and authoritative and generous and moving closer to toss the pillow he’ll rest his head on tonight onto the couch.

“Anything else you need to be comfortable?” she asks, gaze slipping from one of his eyes to the other. “Another pillow? Pajamas?”

“I’ve got some, but…”

“But?”

Sarah gives him a questioning look and Bucky starts summoning the courage to make a move. He’ll touch her waist—no, take her hand. He’ll cup her sweet face so there’s no doubt what he means.

“But,” he picks up, “if I get cold in the night…”

There’s longing in her eyes, Bucky knows it, but Sam bangs in the screen door right then, one nephew squealing where he’s been slung over Sam’s shoulder.

“Well,” Sam announces loudly to the house at large, “that’s it! No more gas in the tank! Everybody get to bed!”

Sarah appears sorry as she steps back. Bucky almost reaches out to pull her in, to take another shot with another lousy line. Shit, he’s bad at this.

“There are more blankets in the hall closet,” she says, and slips away.

“Thank you,” he calls after her.

Sam walks past, Cass still dangling upside-down over his back while AJ runs ahead, and watches Bucky like a hawk (or some other bird of prey) as he digs through his overnight bag. What’s Sam expecting him to pull out? A strip of condoms? Bucky extracts a green toothbrush and holds it up with an expression of fake wonder. Sam rolls his eyes and heads off down the hall.

They are going to bed early, barely 9pm. That’s probably late for the kids though. Bucky’s pleasantly weary after a day outdoors, more working than talking, feeling like part of something as the Wilsons’ community came together to repair the boat. Seeing Sarah throughout. Flashing Bucky a smile while she spoke to a neighbour, grasping his outstretched hand to let him help her aboard so she could see their progress, checking Sam’s work like she’s his foreman while Bucky grinned and watched the siblings good-naturedly pick at each other. Sam was probably out like a light and Bucky should be too.

He’s not.

He can’t get to sleep right away, but it’s peaceful to lie here on the couch, on his back, while the house gets dark and darker. Sarah left the nearest window cracked for him and a gentle breeze washes in with the chirp of insects. Bucky’s already looking forward to being woken by the sun streaming through in the morning. It’d be good to get from now to daylight in a single stretch of sleep; that’s what he fantasizes about while he lies on his back: no nightmares. His head’s propped up by the pillow he tells himself smells like Sarah, though it probably just smells like her laundry soap.

It’s hard to put his finger on what’s missing, why he can’t fall asleep, until he hears the soft shuffle of footsteps on carpet. They’re too close together to be Sam’s—either hesitant or made by child-sized feet. Bucky cranes his neck around, expecting to see someone walk past on their way to the kitchen for a glass of water. His gaze roams over nothing for a minute, then he slumps back as the footsteps retreat. Maybe it was Sam after all, getting up to look in on his nephews or something. It’s the sorta thing Bucky would do if he were an uncle; he’d treasure the time with those kids, try to remember everything about his visit so he could hang on to it when he found himself half a world away, in Berlin or Riga or Madripoor.

He’s settling, trapping the blanket against his chest with a heavy hand, when he hears the footsteps approach again. Then back away seconds later. Slowly, Bucky starts to smile to himself. It’s Sarah. Can only be her. She’s either trying to psych herself up to come in here and talk to him and failing, or trying to resist venturing down the hall and succeeding.

On her next attempt, she gets closer, and Bucky sits up, kicking the blanket aside, and drops his feet to the floor in anticipation of her rounding the corner. He’s nervously gripping the couch cushion on either side of his knees when she does.

“You sneaking past Sam?” he asks quietly.

Sarah jumps, pressing a hand to her chest.

“You scared me. I wasn’t sure you’d be awake.”

Bucky shrugs, dreamily fixated on her smile. One of her neighbours turns on their porchlight and now Sarah can probably see his smile too.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says.

“Shoot. Did you need something else?”

Kinda funny how she’s pretending she was coming out here for another reason and is just making a detour for him. He knows better, but he’s got enough remnants of being a gentleman not to call her out on it.

“Nah. It’s nothing to do with you.” Bucky stares at her a few seconds and changes his mind. “You know what? Actually, it is you.”

“What is?” Sarah asks with a hushed, confused laugh.

“The reason I can’t get to sleep. Sarah…”

But she smiles and does what he did to the boys earlier—holds a finger to her lips.

With the confidence of a woman at ease in her own home and her own body, she steps forward. She wore a yellow t-shirt today, but the one she wears now is pale pink. It’s loose and worn and reveals the strong, elegant curve of her shoulder when she moves and it slips. Gazing up at her, Bucky shifts until he feels the back of the couch. His hands hover in the air as Sarah digs one knee, then the other, into the cushion on either side of him. She lowers herself onto his thighs.

Moving slow like the hour, deep like the black sky, Bucky runs his hands up her back.

Sarah’s palms land on his shoulders and, smiling, she confesses to him, “I like these.”

He’s smirking when she ducks her head to kiss him.

Now that he has her here—on his lap, in his arms—Bucky forgets every way he wanted to touch her earlier. How he was gonna woo her with tender contact applied just right. Well, thank god for Sarah. She sets the pace of the kiss and, when his hands go still at her upper back, reaches around to bring one of them back down to her waist. He can feel that there’s no bra beneath her shirt.

“Rusty,” he breathes when their mouths slide apart.

“You were on that old boat all day,” she reminds him. “You know I’ve got patience for rusty.”

Still, Bucky wants to do a little better, prove that maybe he’s what she had in mind when she decided he was worth smiling at. He cradles Sarah closer, pulling her in, dipping his fingers into the valley of her spine when she arches into him. They kiss firmer, then faster. At her quick nod of encouragement, he moves his hands to her hips. Lower.

“Sarah?” Sam slurs sleepily from down the hall. “You outta bed?”

Sarah presses a hand to Bucky’s chest and pushes off his lap, other hand over her mouth to muffle her laughter. He chuckles too.

“As the Falcon, timing is one of his greatest strengths.”

“And as his sister,” Sarah counters, “it gets on my last nerve.”

“Well, I didn’t wanna say that, but…” Bucky grins.

“Sarah?” Sam calls out again.

She sighs.

“Is he trying to wake the boys?” She takes a step away from the couch, wearing a regretful smile. “I better go.”

Bucky catches himself before he can blurt out I’ll miss you. Overeager fool.

“See you in the morning?” Sarah checks, something shy about her now, but not in a bad way. Cautiously hopeful, Bucky thinks. He’s been feeling that way himself.

He gives her one more smile for the road.

“You bet.”

[inkandpen22]

Permanent Chaos (4/?)

Pairing: MGK x Female!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: mild swearing

Part Summary: While Y/N is out shopping with Cara, news breaks that ties her with MGK. 

Masterlist

Masterlist

Two days later...

Cara and I go out shopping and have lunch for a girl’s day. I have yet to talk about the other night with Sam. Cara hasn’t mentioned it and I have no plans to either. Cameras have followed us up and down Rodeo Drive. By this point, Cara and I are both used to it. Carrying my bags however, I doubt I look graceful for these videos their taking. Oh well, they have fifteen thousand more of me.

“CARA! EXCITED TO WALK IN THE CHANEL FASHION SHOW?”

Cara ignores the paparazzi and points out a dress in the window at Dolce and Gabbana. I request to go inside to try it on. I’m not sure where I’d wear it to, but that doesn’t really matter.

“Welcome ladies!” A woman in a black dress approaches. “Can I help you find anything in particular?”

I point over to the dress in the window, “could I see that in a size six please?”

She leaves us to go find the dress for me and we roam around a small section while she does. My phone rings and I see Nicole’s name pop up. My heart immediately begins to race. She doesn’t call me unless absolutely necessary, usually we text. I step away toward the corner to be discreet.

I answer the call hesitantly. “Nicole? What’s up?”

“I got a call from Stephanie,” she sounds agitated on the other end.

Stephanie is my publicist, she handles everything that Nicole can’t basically. They bicker a lot since they’re both so headstrong and constantly need control. It’s the classic good cop/bad cop scenario, yet I don’t know who’s who. These two cover every aspect of my career, God bless them.

“Oh no, sounds bad,” I grumble anxiously.

“Depends how you look at it,” she lightens her tone.

“What is it?” I press.

“Well…” she hesitates.

“Nicole!” I drag out her name.

“It’s all over social media, magazines and it will be on TMZ tonight,” she stammers. “I’m surprised you haven’t already heard if I’m being honest-”

“Nicole! What?” I rush her.

“An article about you and Colson Baker just dropped on some gossip sight,” she explains. “It says that you and Colson Baker are dating. Stephanie and I figured no one would believe it but it’s everywhere! They have videos and photos of you two leaving The Ivy plus talking by Sam’s car. If I didn’t know you, I would be convinced.”

My head hangs low as I rub my forehead, letting out a deep sigh. “Oh dear God.”

“We can handle it, don’t worry!” Nicole assures. “This story will be gone soon!”

“I need to go, talk to you later!” I hang up on Nicole right when the woman shows me the dress.

“I’ll take it” I attempt to hurry up the process.

Cara comes up next to me “don’t you think you should try it on first?”

“I’ll explain later but we need to go” I whisper to her and just like that, she’s hurry the woman along at the register.

I have the dress and exit the store in a rush. I must act cool, the paparazzi will take notice of my mood change.

“HOW’S COLSON, Y/N?”

“SEEING HIM TONIGHT?”

“HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN DATING?”

“HOW ARE GONNA HANDEL HIS FANS?”

“HAS HE MET THE FAMILY YET?”

“What’s going on?” Cara asks concerned.

“I’ll explain once we’re somewhere private,” I whisper so the cameras don’t pick up on it.

We speed walk to the car and I offer to drive since I made us cut the day short. Once we’re on the highway towards home Cara asks what the heck is going on.

“Why did they keep asking about Colson?”

I turn on the radio and Elvis Duran, along with his team, are discussing no other than me and Colson.

Danielle summarizes the article for the listeners. “The article says they’ve been dating for the past few months. They’re very happy but the relationship is still new. The pair has not yet met each other’s families but Colson is going on tour soon so maybe Y/N will join him and eventually meet the family. Throughout, there are tons of photos of the cute young couple leaving The Ivy Wednesday night. There’s even a link to a video showing them, what appears to be, having a deep conversation by Sam Merka’s car. If you watch the video, the two are clearly looking at each other very lovingly. I mean, he’s looking at her the way I look at a fresh pizza!”

The rest of the cast laughs and I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Actually, scratch that, I can believe it. I’m just pissed.

“If MGK and Y/N are officially an item, why did she leave with Sam Merka?” Elvis questions.

“I’m glad you asked! According to sources, they’ve been very close friends since the start of TSL. In fact, the duo have taken many vacations together along with their co-star Penelope Glass.”

Cara turns down the volume and looks to me with a steady expression. “Is it true?”

I narrow my gaze at her in bewilderment. “What? No! There’s no way in hell!”

“Okay, just checking,” she lets out a sigh of relief.

“Never ever!” I add and change the station.

Colson Baker is everything I despise in a person. I’ve never hated someone so fast as I’ve hated him. Us together as a couple is impossible. It’s completely irrational.

_________________________________________________________

Later in the afternoon, Stephanie sets up a meeting for us to meet with Colson and his publicist. I had to drag myself to her office. My Fridays aren’t well spent in an office building with enemies. In fact, my whole day could be tarnished by this incident. The meeting room we’re all ushered into is freezing and I’m still in my sundress from earlier. Cara and I were never able to get lunch so I’m starving on top of being cold. The photos of us play in a slideshow on the meeting room’s tv. An endless cycle of false advertisement is how I see the photos. The media is selling us as something completely far from the truth. On top of everything, I’m in a meeting with the one guy in all of Los Angeles I can’t stand. Death would be less painful than the current situation. I tune out the debate between Stephanie and Colson’s publicist. He told me his name but my brain is so numb from the temperature in here I can’t recall it.

“Y/N!” Stephanie calls my name and I search for her around the room until I find her in the doorway with Colson’s publicist.

“We’re going to go make a few phone calls. You two will stay here while we handle the press.” I nod “sounds good.”

I send her a weak smile to charm her out of an apology for zoning out. She huffs and escorts Colson’s guy to her office so they can talk on speaker privately. I stand up from my office chair and stroll over to the windows overlooking the courtyard. I watch the cars zoom by on the street and businessmen and women shuffle in and out of the Starbucks below.

“If it means anything, I’m sorry,” Colson says quietly behind me.

I nearly miss it, he speaks so quietly. I lean against the wall, crossing my arms as I face him.

“You’re sorry?” I shrug, not really seeing his blame. “Why? It’s not your doing.”

I return my gaze to the chaos below us. I watch as people with office jobs travel about. I wonder if they’ve heard of me? I wonder if they like me or think I’m a stuck up actress? I shouldn’t care what people think, but it’s easier said than done. When millions watch TSL every week, it’s hard to ignore the wondering.

“If I hadn’t walked you to the car none of this would be happening,” Colson reasons guiltily.

I shake my head, finding humor in the situation now. The paparazzi can make nothing into a months long romance. A brief conversation outside a restaurant and suddenly we’re meeting each other’s families.

“We were only walking to a car. How could either of us have predicted the amount of attention that would come of us walking?” I justify, not to ease his mind, but my own.

My flicker over to the tv, I examine the slideshow of us. Examining the photos I realize it wasn’t all in my head, the way in which Colson was gazing at me is a tad bit gawk-like. Images of us walking to the car while I’m answering the paparazzi’s questions depict Colson glancing at me with what seems to be such admiration. A picture of when Cara calls for Colson comes up and I’m stunned by how we look. Even I appear to be in awe of him in return. It’s evident Cara is speaking yet neither of us react. We were so caught up within on another.

“I have one question!” I blurt out suddenly with my arms crossed I walk back over to the table. Just one and then I wish to put all of today’s events to rest.” Colson perks up and hums for me to continue. I point over to the photos on the screen “why did you look at me the way you did?”

Turning his head, he reviews the photos blankly and I wait anxiously for some sort of reason. “I’m not looking at you in any particular way,” he disregards my accusations.

I chuckle, amused by his horrible way of lying. “Lies!”

He’s thrown off by my reaction and I storm over to the TV screen to point it out to him.

“It’s clear as day to the press, the public and now me included. You’re clearly lost in some kind of thought! You were there, so was I and our friends! Say all the lies you want but you’ll never convince anyone.”

His jaw clenches and he avoids my gaze. He leans back in his chair, staring out the windows. “Colson,” I sigh, slowly approaching the table. “Maybe the truth could help the lies disappear! If we’re honest then maybe the press will leave us alone!”

He shakes his head low, letting out a brief laugh. “I highly doubt that.”

I have a thousand questions but I’m aware none will go answered. He’s a lost cause. I’m in this alone I guess. Turning my back to him I return to my position by the window. Observing the worker bees swarming around the spaces below. The sound of Colson’s chair rolling back comes from behind me but I don’t even shift. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his figure in the reflection of the window beside me. My attention remains outside. He won’t give me the time of day so why should I treat him any better?

“You wanna know why I looked at you the way I did?” His presence hovers of me and he feels like a wall surrounding me.

“Please,” I mutter a subtle beg.

 “I... I had this imagine of you in my head, pre-judgements. You’re supposed to be America’s Sweetheart, Little Miss Perfect! You told me you had been working for this for years, had drive and trails.” He confesses. “You’re not what I expected... It caught me by surprise is all.” 

My eyebrows furrow close, “So you thought I was just some pretty face, goody-two-shoes, ditz? If it’s because my image, my past, you said so yourself it doesn’t matter!” 

“No, no, that’s not it!” he runs his hand through his hair nervously.

Narrowing my eyes, I press further. “Why then?”

The door swings open and I straighten up before forcing a warm smile to my face. I step back from Colson before the person ever appears in the doorframe. One of Stephanie employees informs us that we’re free to go. Steph doesn’t want to keep me here all day and since I’m allowed to go Colson’s publicist is releasing him. I clasp my hand together, walking over to fetch my purse.

“Thank you so much!” I gush. “Have a good day and please tell Stephanie “thank you!””

The young intern eats up my pleasant expressions. “You too Miss Voss! Will do!”

The young woman shuts the door behind her and I return to the state I was in. Expressionless, I gather my belongings and Colson does the same. Checking my phone for any missed emails or calls I can tell he’s staring me down.

“Does it ever get tiring?” His tone is light, but I can hear the ounce of mockery beneath the surface.

My attention is locked on my phone as text after text pops up from Penelope. She’s more likely than not has seen all the articles and Twitter posts. I should call her and explain.

“Y/N!” Colson shout pulls my from my thoughts.

“Huh? Does it ever get tiring?” I restate his question back to him. “What exactly are we talking about?”

I slide my purse over my shoulder while stepping over to the door, leaving Colson behind. That is until he follows me.

“Your whole act.” He forces a fake smile and tosses imaginary hair over his shoulder. “The “happy go-lucky goody goody All-American girl?””

I scoff, eyeing him up and down. “You’re ridiculous. It’s not an act.”

I swing open the meeting room door, eager to leave here. My heels clink against the white shiny tiles on my walk to the elevators. After hitting the down button, I call up Blake now that I have some time to kill. She’s my oldest friend, I’m sure she sees right through all of the tabloids and is only checking in.

“Calling your boyfriend?” Colson mutters over my shoulder and I quickly move away.

“Don’t have one,” I answer plainly, waiting for Penelope to pick up.

He smirks and props himself up against the wall beside the elevator doors. I side eye him, all he does is smile all the time and he calls me out for acting so happy all the time.

“Can’t you find anyone else to annoy?”

He grins proudly, “sure I could. None would as entertaining as you though.”

“Geez,” I mumble under my breath.

I pace outside the elevators as I wait for one to arrive and for Penelope to answer. Classic of her to text me non-stop but not to answer when I call her back. The elevator doors open and I step inside, ready to get out of here. I hit the ground floor and Colson strolls in lazily not rushed at all. He checks the button and doesn’t add any. The doors shut then silence sits flat in the small space with us. My phone buzzes continuously, I check the name at the top of the screen.

“Frickin’ frackin’!” I clench my teeth together in a growl.

Colson’s eyes widen at my sudden explosion. Closing my eyes, I exhale to calm myself then bring the phone up to my ear. Smiling helps to fake enjoyment when talking to someone on the phone. Sometimes I can fool myself into thinking I’m not miserable during discussions.

“Finn!” I greet. “What’s new?”

My southern accent surfaces. I flip the switch whenever I speak to my family or friends back in South Carolina. I can’t have them thinking I’m not the same Y/N from Charleston. Colson eyes me with his eyebrows raised, surprised by my sudden transition. He makes fun of me in a whisper for my fake enthusiastic voice. I wack him on the arm and it only encourages him more.

“Hi ya Y/N, uh so ya prolly already know butcha face is everywhere along with this MGK fella...” Finn’s voice falters at the end.

I sigh and press my forehead to the wall. Finn asks me if any of what he has read is true and I instantly deny.

My tone goes timid, “who all knows?”

“Just us, Odelle, Greyson and Myself,” he assures.

A sense of relief rushes over me. I turn back around and Colson sends me a sympathetic look, it shocks me. Going from mockery to sympathy from him has my entire mood shifting.

“What ‘bout Momma or Daddy?” I ask, keeping eye contact with Colson.

“Nah, at least I don’t think they do,” Finn guesses. “I’m not entirely sure. Greyson is sayin’ they don’t. He’s the only one that’s home at the moment.”

“Heavens to Betsy,” I exhale deeply, looking up to the heavens. “Let’s hope to the high heavens they don’t. Thank you Finn.”

I go to hang up but he says one last thing. Bringing my phone back up to my ear I reply. “Sorry, missed that.”

My brother becomes stern on the other side, “do you and this guy spend tons of time together?”

I shift uncomfortably, preparing myself for the older brother advice I already see coming. “From time to time but I promise, we’re just friends.”

There’s a pause on his end, an unbearable pause. “I trust you Y/N,” Finn finally speaks. “It’s him I don’t trust. He’s not the best sort of guy. Ya’ll aint right for one another.”

I hope Colson can’t hear any of what Finn is saying. To keep him from becoming suspicious, I keep my replies indifferent. “Sure thing. Uh, talk ya later Finn.”

“Bye, talk to you soon.”

We hang up and I slip my phone into my purse.

Colson leans back onto the railing next to me. “Who was that?”

“My older brother, kinda overbearing,” I laugh nervously then bite my lip. My accent begins to subside again.

“I didn’t know you had a brother,” Colson remarks.

A faint smile appears across my lips thinking of my brothers. “I have two actually and an older sister. The order is Finn, Odelle, me then Greyson.”

Colson returns a kind and gentle smile. “That must’ve been nice to grow up with so many siblings.”

“It was.” I nod as memories flash across my mind. “Finn and Odelle were grouped together and so was me and Greyson since our age gaps are less.”

As we pass each level on the elevator there is a “ding.” Facing toward the doors again, I absentmindedly watch the numbers go down as we pass the levels. My mind wanders to the many memories I’ve made with my brothers and sister.

“Finn is about Sam’s age, so he likes to believe he’s almost a co-parent for me and Grey,” I describe with a pleased expression. “He’s the total opposite of Odelle.”

Colson genuinely shows interest, “how is she?”

“She’s a total wild card! We all joke that it’s every other kid. Finn and I are the rule followers. He was student body president, quarterback of the football team and still managed to graduate with honors. I’m nowhere near him on the perfect child spectrum but I’m supposed to be “America’s Sweetheart.” My parents eat that up. Then there’s Odelle, she’s the total opposite of Finn. My parents had to beg her to improve her grades so she could graduate. I remember being twelve, it was the middle of the night when I got up to get a drink. I went downstairs and saw her sneaking out of the backdoor. She made me promise not to tell our parents. I haven’t talked about it until today. There were days she’d fake being sick just to ditch school with her friends. By her senior year nothing had changed. She ended up graduating but my parents forced her to go to a college close to home so they could keep an eye on her. Her antics continued the entire time I was in high school. College for her was a playground. For some reason, I envied her. I still do. I suppose it’s because no one expects anything from her. She messes up, well, that’s Odelle for you. She causes trouble, just another day. For me, my parents have me up on a peddle stool. By the time I turned sixteen people out here started taking notice of me. When I reached seventeen the title of “America’s Sweetheart” popped up and from then on, I was longer a teenager. I had a role to play and an image to uphold. I could never make mistakes like Odelle. I have to be “perfect” constantly. Sometimes I feel like a doll, plastic. None of it is real.”

The bell rings for the floor. I comprehend the words escaping my mouth and snap back to reality. I revealed so much about myself while I was in that daze, private facts about myself that I’ve never spoken of before.

Straightening up and adjust my dress, I apologize. “I’m so sorry. I have no idea what came over me.” The doors slide open and I step out. “Good to see you Colson,” I rush out a farewell before speed walking towards the exit.

I mentally slap myself for all I confessed. If only Nicole found out, my head would be on a stick. My life, my background, every aspect of my being is supposed to be flawless. An All-American girl from South Carolina with a wholesome up brining is who I’m supposed to be. If word gets out that I’m not so perfect then… then I would be finished. My hand digs for my keys in my purse.

“Y/N! Wait up!” Colson jogs up next to me then steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Colson, please....” I practically plead in a mutter, stepping around him.

He wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me. “Let me buy you a drink!” 

Workers around us walk around in multiple directions like zombies. I wonder if they’re taking notice. Hesitant, I narrow my gaze at me. The reason we’re in this mess is because we were seen with one another.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” I admit and release myself from his grip.

I only make it a few feet before he’s in front of me again.

“Fine, no to a drink! How about we go get some coffee? Or tea? If you prefer tea!”

His chest rises and falls rapidly, his desperation is evident. The reason behind is desperation is still unknown to me, along with the reason he looked at me the way he did last night. Who is this mysterious man who stands before me? So many questions I wish to ask but I can’t get passed his eyes. Puddles of crystal blue settle on a white canvas. Confused beyond belief, for a reason unbeknownst to me, I accept. Could be my curiosity is getting the best of me.

“Coffee it is,” I give in to his request.

He grins ear to ear and steps to the side so we can leave side by side. “Unless of course you prefer we get tea!” he suggests, sounding a tad nervous.

Honestly I like both drinks but I prefer coffee. He holds the door for me and the bright sunlight of California weather strikes me.

“Nah, I normally drink a cold brew with a shot of espresso,” I describe.

He winces and pretends to gag. “Ew! That sounds horrible!”

“It gives you a boost in the morning! Nice and strong!” I laugh.

“You’re nasty!” He waves his hands in disgust.

“Eh, you’ve called me worse,” I laugh, unfazed by his insult.

He chuckles, “you’re not wrong.”

Our laughing dies down a little as we stroll over to the Starbucks. I peer up at him with a side eye. When our eyes meet we begin laughing again uncontrollably.

___________________________________

Masterlist

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[h3art-n-s0ul]

Apologies

Akaashi x Reader

(Please feel free to reblog and comment)

Word Count: 2k

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Keiji is planning on proposing to you, but nothing seems to go to plan.

Content Warnings: Language, minor comedic sexual references

___________________________

Akaashi had been planning to propose to you for two months. Two very long months. Well he knew he was going to marry you about five minutes after meeting you. But technically, he bought the ring two months ago. He had it all perfectly planned out. In two days, he would propose in the place you two first met. He knew it was cliche but, the place you two met was slightly unconventional.

It was the parking lot in front of the local university library. He had actually gone in to talk to the administration and see if he could rent out the parking lot from them. The request was so odd, it took them a bit of time to respond. It actually worked out perfectly since they were closed this Saturday, so they agreed to let him rent it out for his intended purpose. The staff were quite confused as to why he would want that old parking lot until Akaashi explained. They hadn’t gotten enough funding to redo it in years so there were tens of potholes, cracks, and broken pieces of blacktop. The colored lines were fading so most people just guessed where to park. But that very parking lot was responsible for your meeting.

It was early spring, and there was still a chill in the air. Akaashi was running late to one of his classes and was weaving between vehicles in the parking lot to get to his car. You were busy walking towards the library with a book up to your nose. Multitasking you know? Akaashi didn't see you around one of the cars and obviously neither did you, too invested in your book. Like fate brought you together, you crashed into one another. You completely stumbled backwards, less than gracefully, sending your book flying. And fly it did, right into a muddy puddle.

“I am so sorry!” Akaashi bent down to help you up before retrieving your ruined book. He brushed off the cover and noticed the title.

“Shit, sorry I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You apologized and he handed you the novel.

“No, no, it was totally my fault. I was in a rush. I’m so sorry about your book. I have to say you have great taste in fiction though.” Akaashi laughed lightly.

“Oh um thank you. Again, I am so sorry for running into you, well, I mean I'm not, but, uh-that was totally my bad. I’m sure you need to get going…” You turned to leave before he grabbed your wrist while he reached into his bag to pull out his wallet.

“Please allow me to pay for it.”

“No, really it’s fine. You don’t have to do that. Totally my fault. I'm sorry.”

Akaashi opened his wallet and groaned, “Ugh god I am so sorry I only have my card. Here.” He scribbled on the back of a receipt and handed it to you. “This is my phone number, text me your venmo and I’ll pay you back. I’m really in a rush right now, sorry.”

“No it’s fine really! Um what’s your name if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Akaashi.”

“Great. I’m Y/n. Wish we could have met under better circumstances, but I’m glad we’ve met. I’d like to chat about your taste in books sometime.”

“Me too.”

Eventually, you texted him, but it had nothing to do with venmo. Instead you invited him out to coffee and you two just kept meeting. Akaashi felt bad each time that he hadn’t paid you back, but you reassured him it was fine and he could bring money next time. In actuality you were using it as an excuse for you two to keep meeting up. Until finally, neither of you needed an excuse to see each other. One thing led to another and two years passed. Now you and Akaashi were living together in perfect harmony.

Akaashi had contacted Bokuto before he bought the ring. Who better to consult about this than his best friend?

“OH MY GOD YOU’RE GOING TO PROPOSE?!” Bokuto yelled into his receiver. “About fucking time. Okay hear me out, spell the question out in fireworks. She can’t say no!”

Akaashi chuckled. “Well I was thinking of going for something a little more private and personal. And I don’t even know if she’ll say yes yet.”

“Keiji are you kidding? There’s no way she can say no. You two are so perfect for each other!” Bokuto was so excited for his best friend.

“I don’t know about that first part. I just know she’s it for me. I’m just glad I know her pinterest username. I think I’m going to start there.”

“I admire your resourcefulness. Honestly, I bet you could pop the question in a garbage yard and she’d still say yes.”

Then it hit Akaashi and he knew exactly where he wanted to propose to you.

“Hey thanks for the ideas Ko. I have to go right now.”

“But you just called?”

“I have to run to the bookstore right away.”

It was perfect. He would set the open ring box on top of the book when he got down on one knee, finally paying off his debt to you.

All he had to do now was lie in wait. Just two days. He could do it. It took everything in him not to tell you already. He tucked the book into the back corner of his t-shirt drawer along with the ring. It forced a smile on his face every time he got ready in the morning.

“Hey Darling, I’m going to head out real quick to pick up the new air conditioner, okay?” Keiji yelled from the back bedroom.

“Yeah okay sounds good. Oh wait- can you get take-out? I’m kinda too lazy to make dinner.” You laughed and he walked into the living room where you were sitting. A book sat in your lap. Some things just never change.

“Yeah of course. Panda express?” Keiji smiled at you.

“Oh god I’m so in love with you.” You replied. Akaashi scoffed and leaned down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

“Okay I’ll be right back!” You heard the clatter of his keys and the shut of the door. Your eyes cast downward back to your page. About five minutes later you wiped a bead of sweat from your forehead. ‘God it is way too hot.’ You stood up and walked to your shared bedroom to change into something lighter. Unfortunately, your favorite t-shirt resided in Akaashi’s drawer. You pulled the drawer open in search of the thin, white shirt. You fingered through the various fabrics until they touched something hard and smooth.

“What- is..” You pulled the novel out and saw the title. ‘Why would ‘Kashi hide this…Fuck what if this was like a gift for me or something?’ You thought. You already felt bad before your eyes scanned back inside the drawer. A little black velvet box sat in the back right corner. Holy shit. Your hands were shaking as you slowly grabbed the object and opened it. A bright diamond ring stared back at you. Holy shit.

“H-he was going to propose?” Shock filled your body and you backpedaled to sit on the king bed. You couldn’t think.

‘Maybe the ring wasn’t his? What? No that’s stupid. Well maybe it’s not an engagement ring?’ Your eyes glanced back down at the ring.

‘Nope. Definitely an engagement ring. When was he planning on proposing? Sure you guys had talked about getting married before but- he was planning it this whole time? How long?’ And then the worst thought filled your mind. ‘Holy shit. What if he’s angry at me? I totally ruined the surprise! Maybe I can put it back and pretend I didn’t find it? No, I don’t wanna lie to him! Oh my god what if I start off our marriage with lies! He’d never forgive me! And then we’d have to get divorced in our 40’s! Oh god!’ Before you could pull yourself out of your thoughts, the front door opened.

“Hey love, I forgot my phone!” Panic settled in your body and your hands scrambled to shove the ring underneath the blankets.

“Darling?” Akaashi walked into the bedroom and saw you awkwardly sitting on the bed. He chuckled a bit, “Love? What’s going on? Why are you sitting like that?”

“Oh- me? What do you mean? I was just relaxing.” You tried to block his view from the book by sitting upright.

“Did you finish your book? Why are you all sweaty?” Keiji noticed the anxious aura around you.

“Um well you see-” Come on Y/n. Think of an excuse! Come on!

Keiji raised his eyebrow suspiciously and started to lean over to see behind you.

“MASTURBATING!” You squeaked out.

“What?” Keiji started laughing.

“ I was- um masturbating. That’s why I’m all sweaty. Sorry. God this is so embarrassing you should just leave!” You nervously winced. ‘I’m so fucking stupid.’ You internally facepalmed.

“Um okay. I’m sorry I uh I’ll just get going. Sorry babe.” He flushed red and awkwardly started to shuffle out of the room before seeing the open top drawer. Oh fuck. He immediately turned around to you and sighed. He hung his head low and asked, “You found it didn’t you?”

“KEIJI I SWEAR TO GOD I AM SO SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN TO IT WAS JUST SO HOT AND YOU KNOW HOW I LIKE WEARING YOUR T-SHIRTS-” He collapsed into a heap on the floor and put his face in his hands.

“PLEASE ‘KASHI NO I AM SO SO SORRY PLEASE DON’T BE UPSET WITH ME YOUR SHIRTS JUST SMELL SO GOOD AND YOU KNOW WE DON’T HAVE AC! UM WE CAN PRETEND IT NEVER HAPPENED I MEAN I DIDN’T REALLY EVEN SEE MUCH-” You continued rambling before he got up and grabbed your hands. When you looked at his face he had tears in his eyes.

“OH GOD KEI I AM SO-”

“Why would I be upset with you, love?” Keiji smiled bitterly.

“Y-you’re not mad?”

“No, of course not. I’m mad at myself. I should’ve remembered you liked wearing my t-shirts.” He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “I guess this just isn’t really how I pictured this going. I’m so sorry.”

“No, Keiji, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault.” You profusely apologized.

“Wow this really brings me back.” He smirked thinking of your first meeting. “So, I take it as a no?”

“What? WHAT? NO NO NO!” You frantically waved your hands in front of yourself. “IT’S A YES! YES! Keiji, I am so in love with you baby!” You grasped his cheeks in your hands and sniffled.

“Really?” His eyes widened.

“‘Kashi are you kidding? Of course I want to spend the rest of my life with you! There’s no one else I want.” You reassured. Slowly he propped his right leg up and looked up at you while holding your hands.

“Darling...I’m so glad to hear that because I will never love anyone more than you. You’re all I want. Forever. Will you marry me?”

“Yes. Yes. Of course!” You buried your face into the crook of his neck and started bawling.

“And just so you know, I wasn’t planning on proposing in our bedroom. I was actually planning on proposing to you in a shitty parking lot.” Both of you laughed.

“Where we met?”

“Of course.”

“No, no, this was perfect too.” You grinned into his neck.

“I rented out the parking lot too.”

“You didn’t!” You shoved his shoulder in disbelief.

“I did. I was going to finally give you your book.”

“You’re such a romantic, Keiji.”

“And now your fiance.” Both of you couldn’t keep the smiles off your faces.

‘I can’t wait to spend forever with you.”

BONUS:

“CONGRATS YOU GUYS!!!” Bokuto hugged both of you. “Akaashi I thought you rented the parking lot for Saturday though?”

“Yeahhhh...about that.” “She found the ring early.”

“Oh shit. Sorry man.” Bokuto rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“No Ko, it was actually perfect. I don’t really care anyways. As long as we’re together.” You leaned into your boyfriend, fiance, future hubby.

“What did I tell you, Keiji?” Bokuto cawed.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“So what are you doing with the parking lot then?” Ko asked.

“We’re having a panda express picnic date on Saturday.”

(A/n literally could not sleep. Just this on my brain at 2:30 am)

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 9.3k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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DAY SIXTEEN

The realisation of the decision you have to make hits you like a truck the moment you wake up.

You hadn’t lied to Yoongi last night. Chatting with him about it was helpful, and you’re insanely grateful for his attentiveness and the fact that you can be honest with him about things like that. But it doesn’t mean you’re any closer to knowing who you want to be eliminated.

You’ve barely been awake and coherent for a minute before your phone buzzes noisily on your nightstand. Blinking blearily at the screen, a message from Taehyung lights it up. Bunkroom, please.

He’d sent it two minutes ago, your phone giving you that 2min reminder. It must have been what woke you. Your sleepy fingers manage to type out a quick coming now before you force yourself out from the cosiness of the covers and heading down.

Jimin is already there when you arrive, arms crossed to preserve the warmth of his body and perched on the foot of Taehyung’s bed. The masseuse had picked the two-set of bunks, directly across from the door, and he sits wrapped up in blankets, cross-legged and leaning against the far wall. He pats the mattress with a covered hand and you sit between the two, Jimin naturally scooting up to sandwich you between the two.

“Is this an intervention?” you joke weakly, voice still croaky from sleep.

“Not really.” You feel the pressure of Taehyung’s head on your shoulder. “Do you know who you’re voting out yet?”

You let out a self-deprecating scoff. “I do not.”

Taehyung goes silent for a moment. “Well… I have an idea.”

Jimin turns to face him, clearly just as in the dark as you are. “About who to vote out?”

“Kinda,” Taehyung murmurs. The only light in the room is what sneaks in through the crack of the doorway. You let your eyes slip shut as Taehyung winds his fingers into yours. “I want you to vote out me.”

Both you and Jimin go stiff, protesting at the same time. “Tae…”

“No,” the older man to your left says harshly. “Why would you want that?”

Taehyung seems to similarly shrink away and lean in closer, making himself small. “It would be easier on Y/n,” he states in an equally small voice.

Your eyes snap open even though you can only see grey-scale versions of the boys. “Tae, that’s not how this is meant to be. I’m a big girl; I’ll live.”

“You don’t get it,” Taehyung insists, sitting up and untangling himself from you so he can face you full-on. “I know the decision is hard on you. But it’s really hard on us too, and I realised last night that it’s not because I’m worried about getting voted out, it’s because I hate seeing you so upset. We’ve already made a promise to each other. I’ve seen more of you and shared more with you than most of the other guys, and I just think… You know, fuck the competition. You and Jimin both mean more to me than the game, and so I think I’d be happy to take that hit to make things easier on all of us.” His gaze drops, fingers picking at the thread of the blanket. “And, you know, maybe we’d be able to keep us a secret longer if the others saw you vote me out.”

While you sit stunned into silence, Jimin burst into action, gripping your thigh gently but emphatically. “It should be me, then. You’ve been nothing less than a sweetheart this entire time, Tae, you don’t deserve last place. Let Y/n vote me.”

Taehyung chuckles, no sadness or resentment in his voice. “Nobody would believe that Y/n would vote you out, Minnie,” he quips, his teeth gleaming in the dim room. “You’re too good at what you do.”

“I’ve been an asshole. I got in a fight the other day. I don’t think it’s hard to believe at all.” Taehyung makes a noise of protest in his throat, so Jimin cuts back in before he can voice it. “At least let’s flip a coin for it. Leave it up to chance.”

Your body goes lax against the wall with a silent sob of miserable irony. Just yesterday Taehyung had jauntily suggested you could choose who to vote off with a coin toss, and now he was rifling through his bag for one, to see if he or Jimin would be the one to leave. “I haven’t even said yes,” you point out lowly, “I haven’t said I want this. That I’m happy for one of you to leave.”

Jimin lets out a quiet sigh, his face cast in the warm hallway light as Taehyung opens the door wider to see more. “But would you be happier if you made one of them seventh place? Had them think they’re the worst in the house?”

“At least this way we won’t be offended or mad at you,” Taehyung assures as he returns, running his thumb over the engravings on a 50 won coin. “Doesn’t that count for something?”

They’re waiting for you. You bite down on your tongue and force yourself to think. To picture the faces of the others, of how they might react. Hoseok if he was on the chopping block for the second time in a row. Namjoon if he felt like his inexperience was his downfall. Jungkook thinking the fight yesterday was the nail in his coffin, or Jin seeing your elimination as a rejection of him and his feelings. Yoongi after letting you confide in him only to send him figuratively packing.

You’d have to eliminate them eventually. All but one of the guys on this show would face that goodbye at some point. Was it selfish of you to push it off for one more week?

“You can flip it,” you decide after a moment, your stomach sinking immediately. “Fuck, this sucks. I’m so sorry.”

Jimin’s grip on your thigh squeezes once comfortingly, and Taehyung rubs your shoulder, before he turns to his elder. “Min, heads or tails?”

“Heads,” Jimin picks without hesitation.

Taehyung, however, does hesitate. “Doesn’t heads come up more often?” he questions warily.

Jimin grits his teeth and nods. “It should be me.”

The masseuse frowns, his black curls like a dark halo as he steadies the coin on his thumb. “Whoever’s comes up gets eliminated?”

Jimin nods again. “Flip it, Tae.”

The second he flicks his thumb and the coin rises, you squeeze your eyes shut, not even breathing. Hoping that the moment where both of them are going to stay in could last a little longer.

The two boys go silent. You feel their eyes on you, then their hands, both slipping into yours just seconds apart from each other. Feeling your eyes prickle, you clear your throat. “Who is it?”

Without a word, your right side becomes heavy as Taehyung buries his face into your shoulder, free arm wrapping tightly around your waist.

You begin to cry before you can even think to stop it, leaning back into him as much as you can with both your hands occupied. Opening your eyes, they remain too blurry to really see out of, but you feel the two of them shift, fingers wiping under your cheeks and cupping your jaw.

“Hey, shh, don’t cry, petal,” Taehyung voice croons, smooth like velvet. “It’s okay, we’re okay.”

You sniff shudderingly, detaching your hands from theirs so you can press over your eyes, composing yourself. “Sorry,” you mumble in a thick voice, “I’ll just miss you.”

You blink away the last of your tears so that his face comes into focus, lips curving slightly, eyes swimming with emotion and with tears of his own. “Hey,” he soothes again, “I’m not going anywhere. All this means is that I can’t have sex with you. It’s not like sex is the only valuable thing about you, the only thing I like about you, you know? I can still hold your hand, I can still be beside you, I can still make you smile. I wanna see that pretty smile again, petal.”

Even though you probably look like a mess, and your heart is fizzy with mangled emotion, you can’t fight the smile that stretches across your lips. Taehyung brightens at the sight, praising you softly as you reach out and shove him playfully. “You sap,” you whine petulantly, heart settling nonetheless.

Having let the two of you share that moment together, Jimin finally pitches in, his voice bright and soothing like yuja tea. “Worst case scenario,” he jibes lightly, “you’ll just have to fuck pup with his hands tied and take the punishment.”

Your laugh is watery but it’s genuine. “Ah, Tae, are you gonna put me in some crazy lingerie or something?”

“I don’t have to when you look gorgeous in everything you wear already,” he admits with a fond smile, before it stretches wider, a cheeky glint in his eyes. “Lingerie sounds nice though. Good thinking.”

Jimin clears his throat lightly and stands up off the bed, slipping his phone out of his pocket to consult the time. “It’s just gone eight, so you have about an hour. I’ll give you two some privacy, yeah?”

Jimin shuts the door behind him, inadvertently pitching the room back into darkness. Taehyung lets out a breathy giggle, getting up to stumble around for the curtains.

You wince and shield your eyes when the white walls gleam with the brightness of the morning sun.

Taehyung looks more gorgeous in the well-lit room than he did in a dim one, so you will your eyes to quickly adjust, drinking him in. Deep chocolate curls resting on his brow, he shakes them back as he gestures up with a single hand. “We should probably go on the top bunk.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“I don’t wanna get my hair caught on the metal springs on the bottom there,” he explains, leaning forward to wrap his fingers around the network of wire that holds up the mattress of the top bunk just above your head. “I swear I’ve done that so many times in just this one night. It hurts.”

Slipping out dutifully, you climb the few rungs of the ladder to sit atop the bunk, reminded of the last time you stayed here with Namjoon and Hoseok. The mood is so different now, only emphasised by the way Taehyung gently tips you back against the pillow the second he joins you.

“Tae, what are you- Tae,” you gasp, feeling the slight tickle of his hair on your neck as he leans in and pulls the neckline of your sleep shirt over your shoulder, baring the flesh. His lips leave light butterfly kisses over the sensitive skin, making you sigh out at the feeling. “What are you doing, Tae?”

He sits up, braced by his forearms on either side of your head. Like this, his hair casts a shadow over his face, but you can see the insistent fire in his eyes. “I want to touch you, petal,” he confesses, “one last time.”

Your heart is seized with emotion, a lump thickening in your throat. “It won’t be the last last time, Tae.”

“True,” he acquiesces, “but for the rest of our time here I’ll have to see the others with you, our Minnie will be able to still be with you, but you and I won’t be able to do any more than hold hands. Won’t you let me treat you like your deserve before then?”

You nod quickly, breath hitching. “Touch me, Tae.”

This time he doesn’t waste time shifting the fabric to the side. Instead, his large palms slip under the small of your back, guiding you to arch it so he can slip your shirt off entirely, tossing it down all the way to the floor.

You sit up and peer over the edge with a wince, glancing back up at Taehyung. “Please don’t fall over,” you plead in a small voice.

The masseuse grins fondly, taking a peek before moving the other way, towards the wall. “It’s not that high,” he protests softly, even as he props himself up on one elbow, his leg thrown low over your thighs, keeping you locked in close too. His hand lowers to run lightly down your side, making you shiver. “Better?”

You bite your lip and nod. “Better.”

With a slightly bemused hum, Taehyung dips his head and his lips find your skin again, making use of the lack of shirt to trail kisses lower, unhurried even with the very real threat of the deadline hanging over you.

You let out an airy sigh at the intimate way he moves down your shoulder, over your collarbones, to the swell of your chest. Instead of a straight line, every kiss is plotted out in mindless curls and loops, like he wants to cover as much ground as possible.

As his hair tickles your skin, it sends tingles running down your nerves, your nipples peaking as they anticipate his attention. “Tae…” you breathe, giggling when his chaste touches make you shiver.

His voice vibrates slightly against your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he praises, his free arm slipping over to gently grasp your arm, thumb running over the crook of your inner elbow. “So gorgeous, petal.”

His palms are like hot coals against your skin as it breaks out in goosebumps, hair standing on end. It feels like a quiet eternity before his mouth reaches one of your nipples, closing around it with the sudden wet heat of his tongue. You cry out at the unexpected stimulation and jerk, but the weight of his head, leg and arm carefully pinning you against the sheets keep you steady.

Taehyung takes his time worshipping your breasts, sucking your nipple with a wet pop as his hand shifts once more to play with the other. Pausing to lick the pads of his thumb and forefinger, he returns to roll the bud between them, making heat pool in your core.

Part of you feels like pushing his head between your legs, or wrapping your legs around his waist and demanding he fills you, but you don’t want this moment to be over any sooner than it has to be. Instead, your fingers wind into his hair, cradling his head to you as you arch your chest up into that delicious stimulation.

Even as you feel his cock plump up between the layers of clothing that separate you, he doesn’t so much as grind his hips, focussing fully on your pleasure. After what could be mere moments or entire minutes, he swaps over, leaning to the opposite breast to lave his tongue over it, baring the slightest nip of teeth to make you gasp.

It feels like a lazy eternity before his hand moves again, this time running a flat palm between your breasts, down your stomach and slipping under the worn elastic waistband. Wanting to give yourself a little room to breathe under the baggy pants you’d worn to bed, you’d foregone panties, and Taehyung hisses in sharply when his fingers run over your mound and immediately dip into your folds.

Recovering quickly, he begins to massage your hooded clit, using your own wetness to lubricate it for a smoother slide. You let out a throaty moan, legs parting to make more room for his sizeable hand. “Tae,” you pant out again, whimpering when he begins pressing kisses to your stomach.

“Yes, petal?” Taehyung questions sweetly, his movement on your clit so slow that you find yourself rocking your hips against him just for more stimulation.

“Want you to kiss me.”

“I am kissing you,” he counters, lips dragging over your hipbone as he speaks.

You whine. “On the lips, Tae.”

His fingers delve lower, parting your folds. “Which ones?”

Though the thought makes you clench around nothing, you push weakly at his shoulder in protest. “Up here, Tae, wanna kiss you properly.”

He gives in, shifting up to join his swollen lips to yours for the first time since you’d gotten up here. Just as you hook your hand on the nape of his neck and kiss him, he breaches your walls with two slick fingers, making you cry out into his mouth.

Taehyung chuckles, massaging you from the inside, fingers scissoring and curling rather than thrusting. “That feel good, petal?”

You nod shakily, eyes fluttering shut as you put your mind into kissing him properly, tongue running down the seam of his lips so that he parts them for you. He continues to work you open with languid grace, his fingers so long and deft that even the most minimal movements take your breath away.

He may be focused on your pleasure, but he doesn’t seem to be pushing you to orgasm, instead letting you bask in the warmth of your arousal and his steady stimulation. Even as he slips a third finger inside you and uses the base of his palm to rub against your clit, you’re reminded of a massage. The way he draws out the moment so that you can enjoy the experience of it, not just the final result. Your muscles go lax and one of your legs hitch up to spread yourself wider for him, but still his ministrations are so slow that you can’t even hear how obscenely wet you must be.

Still fully clothed, you can feel Taehyung���s hardness against your hip, his leg splayed over one of your thighs to keep you still for him. As your pleasure steadily rises, but that familiar curl in your stomach never tightens, you begin to grow needy. First attempting to rut against his fingers, then nipping at his lip in the hopes of riling him up, you eventually resort to pulling away from him and giving him your best puppy eyes. “Please, Tae, I want you to fuck me.”

His eyes are still blissfully shut from the kiss, and his brows furrow just slightly, hand stilling inside you. “I wanna make this last.”

You bite your lip, pressing a hand to his cheek fondly. “I don’t want to run out of time. We’ll end up being late to the meeting.”

Taehyung sighs, tilting his head to press a kiss to your palm. “Who cares if we’re late?”

Your lip twitches. “Sejin, probably. Do you want him coming up here at one minute past nine, interrupting us?”

The masseuse winces, his fingers slipping out of your wet heat. “You think he’d do that?”

“I don’t know, but I don’t wanna risk it either,” you offer up.

“Fuck.” Taehyung sits up and quickly tugs down your waistband, making you squeal and giggle at his sudden change of pace. “You’re right, shit.”

He strips himself even quicker than he did you, jimmying out of his boxer shorts and tugging his shirt over his head like it’s scalding him. Immediately you feel his erection against your thigh, heavy and wet with precum. Instead of getting back up on top of you, you feel Taehyung’s hand - still sticky from your arousal - pulling your hip up to guide you to lie on your side.

With legs intertwined, he hitches your outer leg over his waist and lines himself up at your entrance. Almost shaking with excitement, you cling to him and hold your breath as he pushes forward, his head entering you slowly but surely.

It’s quiet in the bunkroom, the only sound being your shared breathing, but there’s something so vulnerable and tender in that silence, and you tremble as he bottoms out inside you. The angle you’re both at, lying side by side, makes it feel like he’s deeper than you’ve ever felt before, filling you completely. You picture his cock so far inside you that it presses against your stomach, and the thought makes you tremble.

“Okay?” Taehyung checks in, giving you a moment to adjust.

You nod and lean forward to capture his lips, savouring that familiar embrace. “Ready, Tae,” you confirm, clenching around his girth. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Taehyung lets out an unbidden groan, and just like that his patience is dissolved, rutting up into you with short, staccato thrusts that punch the air right out of you. Your fingers curl, clutching onto him for dear life as your nerves are set alight.

Every rock of his hips grinds his cock into the base of your clit, and you find yourself grinding against him, helplessly seeking out the best angle. “T-Tae, fuck, so good,” you manage to force out, voice wobbling even more than your legs.

His hands are all over you; running over your thighs, stroking your back, gripping your ass to meet every thrust. As you look over to him blearily, that same desperate hunger is evident in his face. You take a few moments to appreciate him. This will be the last time in a while that he’s writhing in carnal bliss because of you, and you fight to memorise every last inch of his face.

His hair is messy from sleep and the roughness of your current predicament, some curling at his temples even as the rest sticks up at odd angles, but on him it looks like some kind of wild halo that just makes him all the more gorgeous. His eyes are clenched shut even as his mouth goes slack. The tiniest gloss of drool gathers in the corner of his lips, which are a swollen pink, contrasting so beautifully with his olive skin. Light moans and exertions fall past those lips like a steady river, rushing louder every time you clench around him.

Unable to hold yourself back any more, you lurch forward, teeth pinching your lip with how eagerly you rejoin yourself to his. His responding whimper is muffled, but the way his thrusts stutter as his hands fly up to cup your face close to him speaks volumes.

The movement of his cock deep inside you isn’t measured, or ruthless, or graceful. It’s seeking pleasure and giving pleasure mindlessly, wishing to be as close as you possibly can for as long as you can, barely even speaking to each other.

His lips are equally uncoordinated as they slant against you, his tongue dipping out thoughtlessly, teeth nipping needily. You lose your mind to this primal moment between the two of you, sense of time fading away as minute details like a drop of sweat rolling down your back take centre stage. All you can focus on are his fingernails lightly pressing into your cheek; the roughness of his leg hair against your calf; the squeaking of the springs beneath you.

You can’t even tell if you’re making any noise yourself, so lost in those divine notes that slip off his tongue. At one point your mouths slide apart and he tucks his face into the crook of your neck, focuses on thrusting harder. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, trying to meet those thrusts but every moment your pleasure mounts it just gets harder to make your body obey.

When Taehyung speaks, it’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, if Sejin is waiting outside or if you still have most of the hour. Once he buried himself inside you, you slowly stopped caring about the outside world. Those doors felt like an impenetrable wall that would keep you and him secure for as long as you needed it. His voice comes to you muffled, a tickle on your collarbone. “Wanna feel you cum, petal,” he confesses, voice hoarse. “Are you close?”

You gasp, writhing against him. “Need more, Tae.” You barely manage to finish your sentence before fingers are grinding against your clit, pressing it between the pad of his thumb and his cock. Immediately, heat rushes through you, making your eyes roll back. “Fu-fuck, right there,” you cry, core pulsing with every thrust.

With an added source of pleasure, your orgasm begins to quickly approach, your entire body alight with it. At some point your eyes have fallen shut, and you’ve failed to meet his thrusts, almost entirely unable to think, your mind just overwhelmed with the feeling of his cock moving so deeply inside you.

Taehyung, although similarly delirious with pleasure, seems slightly more put together than you. His hips begin to snap faster, fucking into you without abandon even as the angle prevents him from getting too much momentum. His thumb speeds up, rolling your most sensitive bud over his shaft as it drives into you, and his free hand is trapped between you and the sheets, fingers tangled in your hair.

“Close, so close, gon’cum soon, Tae,” you warn him in a garbled stream when the stimulation begins to surmount what your body can handle. Toes curling, you pant and wait before your orgasm to hit any second, whining every time his length pulls out.

When Taehyung speaks, it’s breathy like a prayer. “Kiss me.”

You have just enough time to seek out his lips before the dam breaks and you’re cumming around him. Still seeking his own end, Taehyung ruts into you and makes out with you messily, groaning into your mouth when you tighten, nerves singing with raw pleasure, an orgasm that never seems to end.

You continue to kiss him as he finally begins to spill inside you, going tense and grinding his hips rather than thrusting. It feels so right, being joined like this with limbs entangled and every breath shared.

It takes you a few moments of coming down from your high to notice the wetness on your cheeks. At first you think you’re crying, overwhelmed from a powerful orgasm, but as you crack your eyes open you see Taehyung pull back, shoulders jerking and a hand clapped over his mouth and nose.

He cries silently, tears soaking the pillow and dripping off his nose, but there’s nothing you can say. It’s just a game, you still have me, we only have to wait a little while, these things wouldn’t bring him any comfort, not when he already knew them. His wasn’t a sadness you had to explain away or solve, it was one he just needed to feel in its entirety.

So, just as quietly as sobs wrack his body, you wrap your arms around him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, and hold him close.

He calms down eventually, pressing his cheek against the crown of your head, but the two of you stay like that for every last minute that you have left.

When your phone vibrates, followed quickly by his, you know that your time is up, and you dress in silence.

--

The meeting starts at 9:12 a.m. You know this, because by the time Taehyung descends the stairs - joining you several minutes later to prevent suspicion - Sejin is wearing a hole in the carpet, informing the group there is a schedule for a reason.

“Can we get started now?” Sejin asks in a snappish tone, before taking in a measured breath, calming himself. “Sorry. Long day.”

“But it’s only nine… thirteen a.m.,” Taehyung supplies helpfully. Sejin doesn’t seem to find it very helpful. “Sorry. Yes, we can start.”

As the masseuse settles himself on a couch beside Jimin, you do your best not to look their way. Sat beside Sejin on the edge of the coffee table, you’re facing the whole group, but there is a strange sense of calm that comes over you when you look at the others. Knowing they’re safe for at least another week.

“Once again,” Sejin announces, knee bumping yours, “the gentlemen have a chance to defend themselves before Y/n makes her decision. Clockwise around the room; Namjoon, we’ll start with you.”

It’s been a pretty rainy morning, a cold front frosting up the windows and making the heatpump slow to act. The academic has himself bundled up in a thick brown sweater and chunky pants, hands slipped between his own thighs for an extra bit of warmth. Somehow, the stocky clothes just make him look smaller. “Y/n,” he begins, “I know I’m never going to be as experienced as the others beside me, but I do really want to keep learning with you, and exploring different things. You make me feel really comfortable and at ease, which is unusual since usually I panic even thinking about kissing someone, and so I’d be really sad if I lost that learning curve that I’m going up with you. I hope you enjoy our time together enough that you’ll let me stay a little longer.”

As he is most days, Hoseok sits beside Namjoon, half-leaning on the taller man. He’s wearing sleek black today; skinny jeans, fitted turtleneck and a cinched waist. Reminiscent of the first two scenes you’d done together, you wonder if he’s wearing those clothes strategically. “My turn? Y/n, if you’re thinking of voting Namjoon out, vote me instead, and if you’re thinking of voting out any of the other guys, good luck to them.” His cheeks lift in a warm smile as you laugh, the humour skimming off some of the tension that weighs the room down. “But on a serious note, I think you and I are extremely sexually compatible, and I take great pleasure in watching you fall apart for me. I want for you to see me as somebody that you can trust to take care of you, but also push you and challenge you. For that, I do hope you choose not to eliminate me.”

You suck in a slow breath. It’s strange hearing them out with no intention of voting them out anyway. Rather than making you feel more indecisive, it reaffirms all the good that you have in this house, that you’re lucky to still retain after the meeting today. You owed Taehyung a massive thank you.

Wedged on the other side of Hoseok is the youngest gentleman. Jungkook has his legs tucked under him, fluffy grey bedsocks peeking out. When Sejin looks at hiim expectantly, he clears his throat. “I actually, um, have a presentation.”

As the rest of the room watches in bewilderment, he hops off the couch and flicks on the television. On the screen, two mirrored selfies of him pouting and winking bracket a message, VOTE FOR JUNGKOOK.

He sucks in a breath suddenly, whirling around to face you. “That should say don’t,” he explains in a rush, “don’t vote for Jungkook.”

Turning back, he crouches beside the cabinet to where a laptop is hooked up to the back of the TV. Changing slides, he straightens up again. A crossfade gives way to a slide which begins with the title, Who Is Jungkook?

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi grumbles, shifting to get himself comfortable on the middle couch he shares with Jin. “Wake me up when it’s my turn.”

Clearing his throat, Jungkook begins to read off the screen. “Who is Jungkook? Successful camboy, avid gamer, budding chef - that’s a picture of me helping hyung cook - and most importantly… Objectively the most attractive guy in the house.”

Even as he hurries to change slides, the other men - namely Jin and Taehyung - protest with cries of outrage and disbelief. Jungkook ignores them, just raising his voice enough to carry over their complaints, waiting for the new slide to bounce in above the previous one. “Why should you save Jungkook?” This time, Jungkook stays crouched, each bullet point having its own slide with a related picture of him. “I will stream with you. I will help cook for you. I will let you play as Widowmaker. I will work out every day so that I stay capable of lifting you easily. I will show you the unflattering pictures I take of the hyungs.” Somehow, Jungkook’s managed to capture a shot of Hoseok mid-yawn, nose scrunched and jaw wide open at the dining table. The man himself lets out an indignant huff, only relaxing once Jungkook switches slides again, a dissolve transition leaving you with a final selfie with Jungkook biting his lip and flicking the camera a peace sign. Jungkook straightens up. “I will give you all these things and more if I’m still in the competition, so please, don’t vote Jungkook.”

Taehyung’s hesitant smattering of applause fills the room as Jungkook switches off the television, sitting himself back down beside Hoseok. Even as he smiles and acts casual about it, you can see his nerves in the way he wrings his hands in his lap. Even if you hadn’t already decided to vote out Tae, there was no way you could’ve voted Jungkook out this week.

Jin is next up, on the couch directly in front of you. His ment is simple. “Vote me out if you think I deserve it. If you genuinely think I’m the worst in the house. I don’t think you do.” The rest of the room falls silent, waiting for him to continue, but he sits back and shuffles Yoongi’s shoulder to indicate his turn.

Sitting up, honey blonde hair disheveled from the back of the couch, Yoongi clears his throat and looks over at you. “You and I spoke last night about the others, about reasons for them to stay in, reasons for them to be voted out. But you didn’t cover me, so here’s mine. Pros: I know my way around the female body in general and, I believe, your body specifically. I’m very willing to give most things a go, I learn fast, and you know that I can keep my head above the water in moments of crisis. I’m a safe person to have in the game.”

You grin. “And your cons?”

Yoongi harrumphs, pouting petulantly. “Well, I’m not going to say them now, am I? I’m trying to promote myself.”

Your bemusement is quick to evaporate when you realise it’s Jimin and Taehyung that are last to defend themselves. Running clockwise, Taehyung is the one who has to speak up now. His eyes dance around the room rather than settling, fingers fiddling with the zipper on his jacket pocket. “Y/n,” he announces, voice so soft and tentative, “I think you and I have a lot of, um, potential together in the bedroom, and, you know, if you keep me in the game, you’ll be able to enjoy the best hands in the business. And I really enjoyed my time with you so much, especially this week. It’s like we have an understanding when we...” Taehyung’s mouth opens, closes. “Uh, so… Don’t vote me out, because you’ll miss out on those things.”

You try not to let the blue cloud in your chest show on your face, staying neutral. You and him both knew you would miss out on those things. That you would miss those things too. Giving a little nod, hyperaware of your reactions, you turn to Jimin.

He’s looking you dead-on, barely moving. “You should vote me out,” he says plainly. “Not...any of the others.” Not Taehyung. “I was a dick the other day, I’ve been an asshole mostly this whole time, and I’m sure the other guys would love it if you did, because they all know I’m the biggest competition. If you ever miss me, I have countless videos online you could watch, or you could watch me fuck one of the guys here. And I’m sure you already have a name in mind, but change it to mine. It should be me.”

Your mouth goes dry, heart racing sickly in your chest. Taehyung’s staring at Jimin with puppy eyes, a silent protest. On the other side of the room, Jungkook lets out a surprised chuckle. “Reverse psychology!” he chirps. “Nice, hyung.”

“So, Y/n,” Sejin asks, voice warm with sympathy, “who’ll it be?”

With eyes stinging, you duck your head, the name on your tongue bitter like battery acid. What you wouldn’t give to throw yourself away instead. “Taehyung.”

The room goes dead quiet. No sighs of relief, expressions of condolence. No announcement from Sejin.

In the two weeks you’d been here, you’d been in this position once before. But that time, exactly one week ago, you’d been subject to a sudden change in events that saved everyone. Now, with Taehyung’s name still hanging in the air like a melancholy ghost, the weight of this decision and its finality sit heavy around the room.

The first cut is the deepest, and as Sejin begins to instruct Taehyung on how to proceed as an eliminated member, you feel like your heart has been sliced in two. The half of you that wants to rush up to him and kiss him silly and take back what you said, and the half that’s filled with an overwhelming relief that you’ve kept the others safe for now.

Taehyung doesn’t look at you much as he leaves. There’s a moment, a single glance, where he gives you a teary smile of approval and comfort. A million words that you can’t say in front of everyone. But then he turns, and he walks out the front door.

Jungkook, who was too shocked into silence to even be listening, straightens up with the wooden thunk of the door closing. “He’s not leaving for good, is he?”

Sejin shakes his head stiffly, before clearing his throat and slipping back into his producer mode. Even as he does so, you can see the elimination upsets him too, his eyes sad. “Taehyung is going around back to the confessional booth for his exit interview. He doesn’t need to be around for prompt distribution, so he’s going to just do it now. Which brings me to this week’s theme.” Sejin pauses for dramatic effect, but it only serves to highlight the sullen mood in the room. “Work hard, play hard.”

You frown in confusion. The first two weeks were easy. Locations, roleplay. You knew what type of thing would be occurring even if you didn’t have the specifics for each member. But this time, you felt totally lost.

Sejin continues. “This week, prompt distribution is also different. Usually, we have you randomly pick a prompt from the bunch. But this time, we have a Bangasm Bomb coming into play. Week 3’s Bangasm Bomb is that whoever won fan favourite in Week 2 will distribute the prompts for Week 3. Yoongi, that’s you.”

Though all of you are a bit reserved, you can’t help but perk up, the interest around the room growing. Yoongi, sat beside Jin but taking up most of the couch, sits up suddenly. “So I give them out randomly, or…?”

“You read all of the prompts and assign them however you choose. Without revealing the prompt to the rest of the group, I ask that you give a reason for each choice.”

Yoongi grins, jumping up in an usual show of liveliness to get the slips of folded paper off Sejin. “I guess I picked the right week to absolutely kill it in the audience vote.” He makes you wait an eternity as he painstakingly opens them all and considers them, eyes dark as they search the room, making little noises of consideration and indecision. Finally, he stands up straight and immediately pockets one.

“A reason, Yoongi,” Sejin reminds.

The doctor blinks. “Because I want it?” Moving to the next one in his pile, he approaches Hoseok first. “Okay, this one is because I think it’s best done by a professional.”

Hoseok takes the slip and holds it close to his chest as he reads, brows lifting. “That’s probably a good idea,” he affirms. “Thanks, hyung.”

Yoongi, clearly gleeful with his position of temporary power, glances at the next slip. “Ooh! Okay, this one is for Jin-hyung because it fits perfectly.”

Jin accepts the slip warily, letting out an exasperated laugh when he reads it. “You little shit.”

Yoongi’s grin is wide enough that you can see his gums. “I love this,” he informs Sejin, “whoever came up with this needs a raise. Anyways; next one.” Opening a fourth piece of paper, he immediately seeks out Namjoon. “I’m giving this to you because I think you’ll get a kick out of it, and I heard through the pipeline that you like to be called daddy.”

Namjoon goes red faster than a changing traffic light, spluttering violently on a lungful of air when he reads the prompt.

Before he has the chance to put it away, Hoseok puts a strong hand on his shoulder and holds him in place so he can quickly sneak a peek of it, collapsing into a peal of laughter when he sees it. “You’re probably right,” he quips to Yoongi, who preens in satisfaction.

“Okay, moving on,” Yoongi continues, “Jungkook, this one’s for you. I figure you’re such a switch that you could play this either way, and I’m curious.”

You furrow your brows, as does Jungkook, but the moment the youngest man reads his prompt, the lines in his face smooth out in realisation. “Thanks, hyung,” he offers up sweetly. “I like this one.”

“I’m sure you do, kid,” the doctor says with a pat of his shoulder, before handing Jimin the final prompt. “And I’m giving you this one because it’s the last one left.”

Jimin scoffs at the weak reasoning, but his eyes dart up to you immediately once he looks at what it says. With a lip curling in bemusement and interest, Jimin thanks Yoongi. “This suits me just fine.”

Done assigning prompts, Yoongi turns to Sejin. “If this show gets greenlit for a second season and you don’t offer me a job, I’ll be personally offended.”

Sejin rolls his eyes with a begrudging smile. “Good job, Yoongi. And meeting adjourned, ev- Wait, no! There’s more; almost forgot.”

You lift your brows, waiting for some other groundbreaking twist or dramatic flair that seemed to keep cropping up during these meetings.

The producer stands himself up, patting his back pocket where his phone rests. “I just had a meeting with the showrunners, and they’re not happy with the punishment for breaking elimination rules. I’ll go tell Taehyung this after, since it mostly concerns him and Y/n, but as an FYI, the protocol around eliminated members has changed a bit.” He takes a breath, hands up and ready to gesture his explanation. “Basically, our old system was that if an eliminated member touched Y/n sexually, he’d be out of the house for good, and if Y/n touched the eliminated member sexually, she had to wear an outfit of that person’s choice. Uh, it seems that second system isn’t really that drastic, and could easily be manipulated, so we’re changing it up upon the showrunners’ request. Now, if the eliminated member touches Y/n sexually, he’ll have to leave as usual, but if Y/n touches him sexually, her punishment has changed to being taken out of the house for 24 hours.”

You tip your head to the side. “That doesn’t sound like a punishment.”

Sejin gives a strained smile. “You’ll be taken out of the house for 24 hours, handcuffed to me.”

“Huh?” Jin asks incredulously. “Bit wish fulfilment isn’t it, big guy?”

The producer has the good grace to blush. “It’s not like that, and it wasn’t my decision. Apparently, the viewers these days are taking more interest in the workings of staff. Additionally, as with the clothing rule, handcuffing Y/n to another member of the house is once again too easy to work around. Anyways, that’s the new rule. Got it?”

You blink. “So… let’s say I run outside right now and touch Tae’s dick. I’d then have to be handcuffed to you for a whole day and like, do producer shit? Meetings and editing and stuff?”

“That is correct.”

“What happens when one of us needs to pee?”

Sejin lets out a weak laugh. “You’d be allowed out of the cuffs to use the bathroom.”

“What happens when it’s nighttime?” you question, heart sinking as you realise your loophole to Tae is quickly closing up.

“Well, I usually go home around 11 each night, and my girlfriend is happy to take the couch should that happen.”

“What- What if-” Your mind whirls as the other guys chuckle at your predicament. “What if I wake up in the middle of the night to get a drink but you’re still sleeping? What if the guys in your meetings ask why you have a young girl handcuffed to you and I have to explain it’s technically a sex thing? What if-”

“All the things that make this a punishment, Y/n. I suggest you practice restraint and avoid breaking the rule.”

Your glare is softened by a petulant pout. “You’re a sadist.”

“This wasn’t my idea, Y/n. It’ll be a punishment for me too.” Sejin clears his throat. “Anyways; meeting adjourned. I’m off to catch Taehyung up.”

The stunned silence lasts no more than ten seconds once Sejin leaves. Jungkook, a toothy grin and cheeky eyes, starts bouncing in his seat. “Y/n and Sejin sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-”

“Shut up,” you shout with a whine. “This sucks.”

“Such a relief you have six other dicks still to choose from,” Yoongi drawls. “I’m sure you’ll live without one.”

Without thinking, you stick your tongue out at him, making him laugh at your antics, before pushing on Jin’s thigh to stand up. “Well,” the doctor announces, “I, for one, could do with a celebratory brunch.”

Jimin frowns. “What are we celebrating?”

Yoongi beams. “Me making you all my little bitch,” he declares, letting out a startled hoot when Jin jumps up to tackle him, manhandling him towards the kitchen.

As the two chefs of the house begin to lug out ingredients from the pantry, Jungkook turns to the rest of the group with a worried frown. “D’you think Tae is gonna be really sad?” he asks in a small voice.

Finally getting up off the hard surface of the coffee table, you make your way over to him, perching yourself on the arm of the couch. “Maybe,” you admit honestly, “but I think if he needs space, he’ll go upstairs, and if he wants comfort, he’ll come back to us. We should let him choose.”

As it turns out, Taehyung chooses both. The kitchen is steaming with a delightfully savoury aroma by the time he comes back in through the front door. He hovers in the entrance to the kitchen and dining area for a moment or two, waiting for the chatter to die down once everyone catches sight of him.

Announcing that he was taking a long shower but that he’d be back down and not to wait up, he’d rushed to his bedroom and left you all to confusedly finish preparing the food. He doesn’t return until you’ve all almost finished eating.

When he does, though, he appears like an entirely different person.

Wearing a raggedy shirt and pants, face red from a hot shower but hair dry, he dumps a white plastic bag on an empty space on the table with a dramatic flair.

Jimin watches him warily. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Taehyung chirps easily, “we’re dying our hair today.”

The words out of his mouth are totally unexpected, and everyone freezes into a bewildered silence.

Hoseok, with a spoonful of soup and green onion halfway to his face, falters. “Sorry, what?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Taehyung explains, like this is the most important thing he’s ever said. “I don’t want to be excluded and I want to have some fun with you guys instead of moping, so we’re going to dye our hair together.” Pushing aside empty bowls and half-eaten side dishes, the masseuse begins emptying the plastic bag onto the table. Bleach, developer, blood red dye, an emerald green and a deep royal blue.

“Where did you even get those from?” Jin asks, abandoning his plate to eye the products with interest.

“Ordered them online,” Taehyung answers with a shrug. “Well - technically I ordered them ages ago, Jungkookie wanted the e-girl TikTok hair, but I reckon we should just go for it. Some of us are in urgent need of a dye job. Namjoon; that’s you.”

The academic recoils, tugging at his grown-out faded purple ends. “Okay, that’s fair.”

Hoseok winces. “We don’t all have to dye our hair, do we?”

“‘Course not, hyung, you can supervise.”

It takes Yoongi insisting that everyone help clean up the table first that springs everyone into action, and in no time at all Taehyung has scoffed up whatever leftovers remained, and Jin has gathered additional supplies like bowls, towels and tin foil, hustling your ragtag group of eight down to the first-floor bathroom.

It doesnt take long before a temporary salon has been set up in there. With chairs taken from the kitchen, product being mixed in little black bowls on the sink benchtop, and three willing victims clutching towels over their shoulders.

In the first chair, Namjoon is watching in mild alarm as Jimin mixes bleach and developer in a bowl, eyeballing the measurements. With gleaming blue hair of his own, Jimin seems more experienced than some of you, but his job is more difficult than the other stylists of the day, since he had to get rid of Namjoon’s purple before bleaching and dying the lot.

You’d chosen the easiest of the three, Jungkook, and painstakingly consult with some of his favourite TikToks for the right amount of hair to section out as Taehyung takes charge of mixing his own concoction of bleach.

Finally, it’s Jin who has also volunteered to dye hair, although it’s not his own that he wishes to dye. Yoongi sits with a bitter scowl on his face as Jin pours in different coloured dyes into one bowl like a mad scientist. With already blonde hair, Yoongi at least has the luxury of skipping out the extra step, but it just gives Jin more time to conceive a crazy colour.

Hoseok, happy to take on the supervisor role, flutters around and hypes everyone up; massaging Namjoon’s shoulders, letting Jungkook show him countless videos and grimacing at what Jin has in his bowl.

“Hey, Tae,” Yoongi calls out in a forced casual tone, “why is it that when you were the one who bought the dye, you aren’t the one getting chemicals all over his hair?”

The masseuse shrugs easily, a tea towel thrown over his shoulder as he stirs away. “What can I say? I’m an artist, not a canvas.”

Jungkook blinks up at him past your shoulder. “I’d like to see you dye your hair, Tae. You’d look pretty with any colour.”

Taehyung reaches out to pinch the maknae’s cheek fondly, but accidentally leaves a smear of white behind. Jumping into action, you hold Jungkook’s chin steady as you wipe it off with your thumb, feeling his eyes on you and his breath hitch.

“Oh, you’re not- Y- You’re going straight in there,” Namjoon stutters shakily. Letting go of Jungkook’s face and stepping away, you glance over to Namjoon and Jimin.

The younger man has Namjoon’s hair sectioned with clips, painting thick globs of bleach onto the purple in his lower layers. “Don’t worry,” Jimin assures, “you’ll look fantastic after this.”

“Worst case scenario, you can lop it all off,” Jin points out cheerily.

Yoongi’s arm reaches out between folds of the towel on his shoulders, keeping Jin at bay. “You better not lay a fucking hand on me with that mindset.”

“Don’t be silly, Yoonie,” Jin teases, adding in some more green. “You’re my Mona Lisa.”

Yoongi humphs and collapses back against his chair, pink smattering his cheekbones.

Taehyung’s hand wraps lightly around your wrist, handing you the bleach he’d mixed up. “We’re good to go,” he declares to you and Jungkook, “I wanna go see what colour Yoongi-hyung’s getting. You guys start.”

Left in charge of the bleach, you turn back to Jungkook. Standing over him, it’s impossible to ignore the way his doe-eyes observe your every move. “Are you still good with these two chunks?” you check.

He nods quickly, lips pressing into an eager but shy smile. “Do you think it’ll look good?” he asks hopefully.

“You’ll look gorgeous.” Getting him to hold the bowl of bleach up for you, you dip the brush included in the box and begin to brush the white, thick liquid over the strands of black hair. He doesn’t flinch as the brush moves higher, sitting so still and patient. “What colour are you going to get it?”

His cheeks puff as he blows air into them. “Hm, I don’t know. Tae said maybe pink? I could mix in only a little bit of red so it’s not so strong. But then pink fades fast.”

You hum, switching to the other side. “You could dye it red and then when it fades it would fade to pink.”

He lets out a little gasp. “That’s smart! I like it.”

From down the room, Taehyung’s voice echoes. “Hyung, you’re fucked!”

“Hey!” Jin cries. “It’s going to look good, just trust me on this!”

Taehyung leans his back against the sink and clasps his palms together like he’s praying. “Yoongi-hyung, picture this. You’re Bob Ross. You’re painting a beautiful lake on a sunny day. Blue sky, clear water, lush riverbanks. Can you see it?”

Yoongi frowns. “Sure.”

“The little cup of dirty water you used to clean your brushes with? That’ll be your hair.”

“Oh, god,” Yoongi moans miserably, slumping so low he almost falls off the seat.

“Disrespectful little brat,” Jin enunciates as Taehyung moves back across the room. “This was your idea!”

It takes the entire rest of the day, but by the time you all sit down on the couches for dinner - courtesy of a food delivery app, Yoongi and Jin both too tired to cook - three of the eight of you have shiny new looks.

Jungkook looks undeniably striking with his stripes of firetruck red framing his face. Contrasting sharply with the black of the rest of his hair, you could easily mistake him for a Twitch streamer or something, pulling off the look with a natural coolness.

Done with purple, Namjoon had taken advantage of Jimin’s decent level of expertise and let the blue-haired man work his magic, bleaching his hair a couple of times and dying it to the unusual choice of silvery grey, the roots slightly darker so that - in Jimin’s words - he could get away with regrowth for longer.

But perhaps the biggest surprise of all is Yoongi, who smugly peacocks around the room with a unique shade somewhere between mint and teal in his hair. Jin had quietly confessed to you and Jungkook when he was cleaning his bowl that it wasn’t in fact, the colour he intended it to be, but that what Yoongi didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

The blue-green tones are somewhat reminiscent of the clear lake Taehyung was describing, and it brings out the soft pink of Yoongi’s lips and his dark lashes so beautifully. How Jin’s luck never seemed to run out, you didn’t know, but part of you wished you had volunteered yourself for a dye job too. Now you, Jin, Hoseok and Taehyung were the leftovers with natural hair.

Like some sort of unspoken agreement, the seven of you keep a close eye on Taehyung throughout the evening. You let him pick a movie for all of you to watch, pile extra food into his bowl, Jungkook even brings a secret stash of chocolate down from his room to share with him. All of you sensitive of how he must be feeling, it’s only natural that you take extra good care of the masseuse.

And, when it finally comes to head up to bed, Taehyung is flooded by offers to keep him company in the bunkroom. It’s Jungkook he picks, the two thick as thieves, and shortly after midnight your phone goes off from a text that Jungkook has sent to everyone except Taehyung. Just two words that are enough to allow your mind and body to rest. He’s okay.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Best Laid Plans

Summary: When Jensen starts acting strange around the reader, she has a talk with Jared to ease her worries. In doing so, she reveals a secret of her own and may just put an end to her friendship with Jensen for good...

Pairing: Jensen x reader

Square: Friends to Lovers

Word Count: 6,200ish

Warnings: language, angst, more angst, secrets, eventual fluff

A/N: Written for @spndeanbingo​​

______

“Uh, excuse me,” you said, poking Jared in the back as you stood in line at the food truck when you spotted a familiar tuft of hair.

“Hey! What a coincidence. I need good barbecue after work this week,” he said.

“Weren’t you in LA for Walker stuff this week?” you asked.

“Yeah. Stupid producer stuff for a few episodes until I flew back home for filming a couple days back. I managed to sneak away for lunch,” he said. “You miss me?”

“Funny is all. Jensen said you guys were in LA working still,” you said, crossing your arms. Jared cocked his head and you nodded. “Yeah. Obviously that’s not true.”

You got out of line and started to head back for your car, Jared catching up and grabbing your arm not more than a few seconds later.

“Don’t even pretend to lie for him,” you said. 

“Okay,” said Jared. “I know he was really busy doing some voice over work.”

“Why didn’t he fly home with you? Better yet, why would he lie about it? He’s not...he’s being shady lately, Jared. He’s been spending all this time in LA and he’s avoiding me the past few weeks and lying to me. I don’t know what to think anymore,” you said.

“I know,” he said.

“Do you know what’s going on?”

“I do,” he said quietly. “Trust him. I know he’s...not being the best friend right now but trust him.”

“...Does he have a girlfriend?” you asked. Jared shook his head and you stared up at him. “You would tell him me if he did, right?”

“I swear, he is single. He’s not talking to anyone,” said Jared.

“Then why is he being all shady around me?”

“Why are you so concerned about him having a girlfriend?”

“I’m not,” you said.

“Really? Because I remember what drunk Y/N said at the series wrap party nearly six months back,” said Jared.

“I was drunk,” you said. He stared at you and you looked around. He rolled his eyes and grabbed your hand, pulling you over to a picnic bench to take a seat at. He started to eat and you felt his gaze on you. “I was drunk, Jared.”

“Drunk or sober, you love him,” said Jared.

“I love him like you love him,” you said.

“No, no you don’t. Maybe those first few months on set but I saw it bubbling up. Everyone saw it bubbling up. You guys have been best friends for years. The only person who didn’t see what was going on was Jensen.”

“I don’t even work with him anymore. I am very happy doing my voice over work and-”

“You moved to Austin.”

“So did you! You don’t own the whole city. You guys aren’t my only friends here,” you said. “My brother lives half an hour away and our parents are even thinking of moving here so-”

“All I’m saying is you’re connected at the hip with him almost as much as I am. More so now that I’m busy with Walker and he’s doing his different things,” said Jared.

“He’s allowed to have more than one best friend,” you said.

“I know. He’s got other ones besides me, ones long before you or I came into the picture. But none of his other best friends fell in love with him. Get the picture?”

“Forget it. I only asked because we had plans tonight and he wasn’t responding to me,” you said. You stood up and he frowned. “What would you do?”

“Tell him how I felt.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve been getting deeper and deeper for the past three years and he’s never noticed. I’m not supposed to be with him obviously.”

“But you love him.”

“He doesn’t love me like that, Jare.”

“Maybe you should ask,” said the voice behind you. You spun around, Jensen in his baseball cap and his carry on backpack over his shoulders. He gave a small wave and you went wide eyed. “I was on a flight. You kept calling so I got worried and used the find my iphone thing when I landed.”

“How long have you been standing there?” you breathed out.

“Since you sat down I think,” he said.

“I’m going to give you guys a minute,” said Jared. He grabbed his food and left, Jensen taking his spot. He looked down to the table, opening his mouth a few times.

“You love me?” asked Jensen. “More than a friend?”

“Yes,” you said. You swallowed and watched him rub the back of his neck. He gave you a quick glance but you caught no shyness in it and your stomach started to churn.

“Y/N, you’re my best friend and I love you as my best friend. I’d do anything for you. I just don’t...love you in that other kind of way,” he said. 

“Yeah,” you said. The air was still and you looked away. “Something came up tonight. I need to cancel.”

You stood up and heard him right behind you, grabbing your shoulder.

“Y/N,” he said running around in front of you. You couldn’t look at him, not after you’d just told him and it was very clear how he felt about you. “Y/N, wait. Let’s talk about this.”

“I don’t want to,” you said, biting your bottom lip. “I gotta go, Jay.”

You took off towards your car, cutting through a group of people to slow him down and you were pulling away by the time you saw him in your rearview mirror.

“Why’s he have to die?” you said to yourself that night, crying as you watched a movie and stabbing into your pint of ice cream. You took a sip of your wine and wiped off your face, the sound of the key in your door making you jump up. The door opened wide as you held up your spoon, Jensen stepping into the foyer. “Get out.”

“Shouldn’t have given me a key then,” he said, looking around your apartment. “Well now I feel even shittier than before. Sad chick flicks? Wine? Ice cream? You look like hell.”

“Leave your key and go,” you said as he slipped off his shoes and jacket.

“Not happening. You don’t walk out on three years of friendship like that, not us,” he said.

“Jensen. You didn’t do anything wrong. I can’t...I can’t hang out with you though if I know I feel a certain way and you don’t. It’s not your fault. I can’t just pretend it’s all okay though,” you said. You set your spoon down and took a seat on the couch. Jensen settled into his usual spot at the other end and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been seeing a girl,” he said. “Quietly. No one really knows.”

“Oh,” you said. He hummed and you grabbed your blanket. He rested his head in his hand and started to watch the movie.

“We broke up an hour ago,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love her. I didn’t even really like her. You made me realize something at the park today. I haven’t been single since I was a junior in high school and in all that time, I don’t think I’ve quite figured out what being in love is like.”

“I’m sure you loved someone,” you said.

“I’m sure I did too. But it’s always been this is my girlfriend. I’ve never thought of any of them as my best friend,” he said. 

“Jensen.”

“I don’t want to date anyone right now. All I want is to be your best friend,” he said.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

“Give me a chance?” he said. “I never wanted to hurt you. The second those words came out of my mouth I knew I did. But I’m a guy and stupid and I don’t want to lose you. So let’s watch a movie and eat and drink like we do when one of us breaks up with someone and in the morning if you still can’t stand to be near me, I’ll respect it.”

“One night won’t change how I feel.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry but I’d really like it if you left, Jensen,” you said. “I need space. I’m not...I’m not saying maybe someday we can’t be friends again but right now, I really need to be away from you.”

“I understand,” he said. He smiled and stood up, putting his coat and shoes back on. He dipped his hand into his pocket and placed his key on your front table. “Would you have ever told me on your own?”

“I honestly don’t know. I was afraid of this exact situation,” you said.

“We’ll never be the same as it was, will we,” he said. 

“I wanted more than it was, Jensen.”

“Losing you hurts more than any girlfriend did if it’s any consolation,” he said. He left and you got up, locking up after him. You rested your head against the door before you quickly unlocked it, Jensen standing further down the hall by the elevators. He turned your direction as you stepped out.

“Come here,” you said. You slowly walked back to your apartment and you let him inside. You shut the door behind him and quickly pushed him back against it, giving him a kiss. He stared at you after you broke it off, blinking more than a few times. “Now how do you feel?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then go,” you said.

“Why’d you kiss me?”

“Because I don’t think you have any idea at all of what love, a relationship kind of love, actually is. It’s more than thinking someone is attractive or kind. You don’t understand and until you do, you shouldn’t date anyone, Jensen. For their sake and yours,” you said. He quickly left and you went back to your couch, stabbing into your ice cream once again.

“Hey,” said Jared, catching you coming out of the recording studio a few days later. You walked past him and he scoffed. “Why are you pissed at me?”

“Because you lied to me. You said Jensen wasn’t up to anything in LA and he was. You said you knew what he was doing out there. I always knew if it all went south you’d end up on his side. Just leave me alone, Jared,” you said. You walked down the sidewalk to your car, Jared right there with his hand on the door. “Move.”

“For your information, I didn’t know he was seeing anyone. You really want to know what he was doing out there? Talking to network executives about you. He got cast in something and he thought you’d be great for the female lead. I’m pretty sure you’re going to get a call about an audition soon. But you’re right. I’m an ass that only cares about one of my best friends.”

He walked away and you stared after him with a sigh.

“Jared-”

“No. You know, I don’t know what the Hell you said to him but whatever it was, it was out of line. You can’t be angry at someone for not feeling the same way about you. You’re not in middle school, Y/N. Grow up,” said Jared. He huffed and went inside the studio as you slipped inside your car. You sat behind the wheel for a moment, your phone ringing all of a sudden.

“Hi, Zoey,” you said. She went off a mile a minute and you squeezed your eyes shut. “A movie with Jensen? Oh yeah, that sounds great. Set something up and I’ll do the audition.”

You hung up and rested your head against the wheel.

“Should have just said no. Should have said you were taking a break but no, had to say yes like an idiot,” you said to yourself. “Hopefully they hate me and give it to someone else.”

Two Months Later

“You guys have to be loving this! Working together again,” said the director. You glanced at Jensen and he forced a smile. “Alright. You two are wrapped for the day along with Nate. Head on home. We got plenty more work tomorrow.”

You kept a smile on your face until he walked away, quickly separating from Jensen.

“Hey!” said Nate, your other lead for the movie as he jogged over to you both. “It’s not that late. Would you guys maybe want to grab dinner? I don’t know many people in Austin aside from work people.”

“Maybe we can grab a bite over the weekend?” said Jensen.

“I’ll go Nate,” you said, shooting Jensen a look. “Don’t mind him, he’s just old.”

There was a quick flash of anger on Jensen’s face but it was so subtle Nate wouldn’t have noticed. 

“Let me just grab my bag and then we can go get some food,” you said.

“Awesome,“ said Nate. He headed over towards his trailer, Jensen walking over to you quickly. You put your hands on your hips and he did it right back.

“It’s nine. It’s late. What are you doing taking the new kid out on a weeknight?”

“I didn’t realize you had a bedtime, Jensen. Call time isn’t until 9 tomorrow. We’ll both be home and in bed by eleven not that it’s any of your business,” you said.

“I’m not old,” he said. “You want to go out after a thirteen hour day, be my guest.”

“Come with us, don’t come with us, I really don’t care, Jensen,” you said. “It was a joke. We used to go out after filming was done on the show all the time. Don’t be so sensitive.”

“Don’t blame me when you’re exhausted in the morning.”

He left with a huff and you rolled your eyes, ducking in your trailer quick. You caught up with Nate a few minutes later who was all smiles.

“Ready?” you asked.

“Yeah. You and Jensen, you’re not together or anything, right?” he asked. “He seemed…”

“No, no. We don’t like each other like that,” you said. “I’m very much single.”

“Good,” he smiled. You returned it, ignoring the small guilty feeling in your stomach for talking to Jensen like that. “So where can we get a good steak around here?”

“You smell like a bar,” said Jensen the next day as you got coffee at craft services. You grabbed your cup as he walked away, sipping from hi own.

“That’s rude,” you said. 

“Don’t be so sensitive, Y/N,” he said with a smirk. You bumped his shoulder and paused as you headed for set.

“Oh and not that you would care but Nate asked me out on a date tonight,” you said.

“Funny. I thought attraction wasn’t the only qualifier to be in love,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “That’d just be for me. You want to date the guy that just wants in your pants, fine.”

“Shut up,” you said. 

“Back at you, runt.” 

You looked back angrily, Jensen bumping you this time as he went by. You caught up with him and grabbed his arm, Jensen frowning.

“Don’t you dare call me runt. Not you of all people. You know what that means to me.”

“Yeah, I do. Maybe I don’t care about much of anything when it comes to you anymore,” he said. You stared at him and dropped your hand away, quickly leaving. You avoided him as much as you could for the day and were grateful you only had two scenes together. When you wrapped for the night and you were getting ready to go out with Nate again, you gathered up your things from your trailer, spotting a cupcake and note on the counter. You picked it up and frowned.

I crossed a line with the runt comment. I’m sorry. It was wrong. Please stay away from Nate. I get a bad vibe from him. 

-J

“At least you got my favorite flavor,” you said. You took a bite and put the rest away in your fridge. You put on your backpack but stopped for a moment and wrote down a note of your own. You ran over next door to the empty trailer and set it down on Jensen’s counter before popping outside and heading over to Nate’s. “Hey.”

“Hey,” he said grumpily, shoving some things in a duffel bag. “Listen, I just got fired so-”

“Fired? For what?” you said.

“I don’t think your friend likes me very much,” he said. “It’s whatever. I’m flying back to LA tonight. Maybe I’ll see you around someday Y/N.”

He jogged out of his trailer and you shook your head. You walked outside and saw Jensen coming out of hair and makeup with his face washed off.

“What did you do?” you asked, storming straight over to him.

“Bought you a cupcake...I’ll be sure not to make that mistake again,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“Nate was just fired he said.”

“Good.”

“Good? Did you get-”

“Wow. No, I didn’t. I’m glad to see you think so little of me. Outside of a scene, don’t talk to me,” he said. He left and you stood there, throwing up your hands.

“Oh my God, Y/N! Did you hear?” asked Shelby as she came out of the makeup trailer. 

“Nate got fired? Yeah,” you said.

“I’d have kicked his ass,” she said. You raised an eyebrow and she made a face. “The PA? Inappropriate touching?”

“He did what?” you asked.

“Oh he got way handsy with one of the PA’s. Eighteen years old. One of the grips caught him cornering her and he nearly decked him right then and there,” she said. “He’ll be lucky if she doesn’t press charges let alone act again.”

“That’s too bad. She’s okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. It didn’t go like, bad or anything but dude’s a creep,” she said. 

“Sounds like it,” you said quietly.

“I think production might get shutdown the rest of the week while they find a replacement. I’m sure you’ll find out before the rest of us,” she said. You nodded and she gave you a smile. “You okay? You seem different lately.”

“Yeah. Just not used to long days again,” you said. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow if we still have work, okay?”

“Sure thing,” she said. You walked over to the parking lot, catching Jensen waiting by your car with your note in his hand. Slowly you made your way over, Jensen kicking at the pavement. 

“I heard why Nate got fired,” you said.

“I had a bad feeling about him and you didn’t believe me,” he said, holding up the note. “Fucks sake, Y/N. I’m not jealous of him either okay because I know how your head works.”

“Then what?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” he said. You reached for your door handle and he moved in front of it. “Why are you so angry at me? You won’t even talk to me.”

“I’m not angry at you, Jensen. I’m...I can date and be with whoever I want to. I can go out after work without you. We’re co-workers. It’s all we are,” you said. “It’s all we can be.”

“It’s been two months. Why can’t-”

“Because it still hurts me to see your face as pathetic as that sounds. I wish it didn’t. I wish I could pretend we are exactly as we were and go back to that. But I’m not capable of it. I told you. I need time and space if I’m ever going to get back there with you and two months isn’t enough time for me.”

“Not everything is about you. Don’t even bother,” he said.

“Don’t bother what?” you said.

“We’re co-workers. It’s all we’re ever going to be,” he said. He left and headed for his car, leaving the note behind.

“I see you skimmed over the part about me apologizing for how I acted,” you said.

“You skimmed over that part of mine. Fair is fair,” he said. “You know what? Lose my number. Don’t talk to me outside of a set anymore.”

You got in your car and headed for home, hoping that the movie got delayed indefinitely.

Three Days Later

“Hey!” said Ruthie to you out on the hotel patio. You looked up from your phone, Ruth sitting down in the chair across from you. “I haven’t seen you all convention long! What are you doing out here?”

“Enjoying the fresh air,” you said, forcing a smile.

“I see,” she said. You went back to your phone only for her to steal it away from you. “Texting a new friend?”

“No. I was reading,” you said, taking it back.

“You wouldn’t happen to be out here because of you and the boys not getting along, hm?” she asked. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said.

“You’ve been noticeably absent from the group chat,” she said. “And not hanging out with the guys, especially Jensen.”

“Been busy.”

“With what? Unemployment?”

“Our movie is only shut down a few months. I’m taking the vacation time,” you said. “Discovering new things.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing!” you said.

“Fine, fine,” she said. “Bri and I are going to have a drink after the show tonight in my room. Your attendance is mandatory.”

“Why aren’t you going out with the guys?”

“Because you need a girls night and so do we,” she said. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Do you still…” said Bri well after midnight and more than a few drinks. “Love him?”

“Yes,” you said, knocking back your margarita. “I don’t even want to anymore. It just hurts like everyday and it’s so pathetic. I thought pushing him away would make it go away and I thought trying to move onto another guy would work but I still want him. I don’t know why I can’t get over him. I’ve dated before. I don’t know why…”

“When you say you love him, do you mean love him right now or I could imagine the rest of everything with him love him?” asked Ruth.

“I’m so stupid,” you said, sliding down on the bed, pulling a pillow over your face. “We weren’t even together! Why am I so upset?”

“Because you love him bad. Like in deep,” said Bri. “He really said he thought of you guys as just friends?”

“Yes. I miss him. I want my best friend back,” you said, pulling away the pillow. Ruth handed you a few tissues and you wiped off your face, all three of your heads turning when you heard a knock at the door. 

“It’s probably the guys,” said Bri. She was out of her seat and you watched her peek the door open a crack. “What? It’s late.”

“We know,” said Rich and Rob. “We got to talk about this Jensen and Y/N situation.”

“No, we don’t. They’re adults,” she said.

“Well Jensen just drunkenly confessed to being in love with her and how he messed up. I think we at least have to get the two of them in a room together to sort this whole thing out,” said Rob.

“Jensen said what?” you said, rushing over to the door. 

“Oh great. She’s been crying,” said Rich, running his hand over his face. 

“What’d he say?” you asked.

“That he misses you and he thinks he might be in love with you and you got to take this all with a grain of salt. He drank a lot,” said Rob. 

“Where’s he now?” you asked.

“His room. He’s not...save the conversation for when he’ll remember it?” said Rich. You nodded and turned back to the girls. 

“Should I say anything?” you asked.

“I honestly don’t know,” said Ruth. “Maybe sleep on it and decide in the morning?”

“Yeah, that’s probably the best idea,” you said. “I’m going to head back to my room.”

“We’ll walk you,” said Rich.

“Thanks,” you said. A moment later you were in the hall, the guys going up a floor with you in the elevator. 

“From a guy’s perspective,” said Rob. “We can be really dumb. Like it’s amazing how dumb we can be. Give him a chance when you talk to him.”

“He doesn’t understand what falling in love is. I can’t explain that to him,” you said.

“Maybe you have different definitions of love,” he said. You blinked and they both shrugged. “There’s a reason this stuff is complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” you said when the doors opened. “I’m right here,” you said, pointing at a door. “Night guys.”

“Night, Y/N.”

You entered the room and lay down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. 

He was drunk and he’d missed you. It’s all there was to it in your opinion.

Three Weeks Later

“Sounds good,” you said, hanging up with your agent. The movie was back on at the start of the next year and in the meantime, you’d gotten another voice acting gig. You felt happy about that for the first time in a while. Slowly things were getting better. Avoiding Jensen had helped. You still caught yourself wanting to send him a funny video or talk to him about something during your day but you knew you’d get there. All you’d needed was a good cry session with your friends it seemed.

There was a knock on your door and you got up for your pizza, smiling as you skipped into the foyer.

You pulled it open and found Jensen there, a blank look on his face. He stepped inside and grabbed your face, giving you a remarkably gentle kiss that went on and on. He broke it off when there was a grunt and your pizza guy was standing there. You took the food in a haze and shut the door, setting it down on the counter.

“What…” you said, Jensen getting right in your face. 

“I have loved you from the second I met you. I have loved you from the week after that and the week after that and I knew deep down there was no going back. You were it. Always.”

“If you loved me then why-”

“Because I want better for you. I don’t want a life where you’re alone because I’m off working over here or you’re working over there. I want you to have everything you deserve and that is a better man than me.”

“I know you, Ackles. If it were just that, you would have told the truth. What is it,” you said. He closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged.

“I had an anomaly in my blood work at my last checkup a few months ago,” he said.

“Jensen. What are you saying…”

“My blood work showed I was sick. Dying kind of sick,” he said. 

“Oh, you dumbass,” you said, giving him a hug. It was tight and he returned it, running his hand up and down your back. “Jensen.”

“I couldn’t say it when I thought I wasn’t gonna be around in a few years. I couldn’t do that to you,” he said. You squeezed him harder and he shushed you. “S’okay. I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. You said...I wasted all that time-”

“I’ve had a lot of tests done. Some here. Some in LA. They were looking for the cause. Jared’s the only one aside from my family that knew. It’s why he was so pissed with you when we fought but I swore him to secrecy.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked. 

“I was afraid. Of everything. You pitying me. Leaving me. Of me telling you the truth and setting you up for some kind of horrible heartbreak,” he said. “But in all those doctor’s genius attempts to find something, they never thought to take another blood sample. They kept reusing the same one over and over.”

“What are you saying?” you asked.

“I’m saying I’ve spent the past four months thinking I was dying when they had the wrong blood. It was someone else’s. They couldn’t find anything wrong because there is nothing wrong. I’m perfectly healthy. The only problem I have is finding a new doctor. I found out half an hour ago and drove straight here,” he said.

“So to summarize you thought you were dying and denied you loved me so that I wouldn’t have to be upset when it happened?”

“I know I hurt you. I know...it was easier to push your buttons and push you away than let us be something else and have it ripped away from you so soon. I thought this way would hurt less than the other,” he said.

“You really are a dumbass,” you said with a smile. “You should have told me.”

“I know,” he said. “I wanted to protect you.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes.”

“Do you know what I meant when I said love is more than attraction?”

“Absolutely. But playing stupid seemed like a good idea at the time,” he said. You rested your head on his shoulder, Jensen’s arms wrapped around you. “Do you hate me?”

“No,” you said. “I’m mad at you for lying and I’m sorry for pushing you away just as much. I just want it back to the way it was.”

“Maybe we can try something different?” he said. You cocked your head and he kissed you again, smiling when you held up a finger.

“Different is good,” you said, Jensen looking you up and down. “I’m still mad at you.”

“Okay,” he smiled.

“Still mad.”

“Okay,” he said again, taking off his coat and shoes.

“Inviting yourself over, hm?” you said.

“For sure,” he said. “You even got dinner for us already.”

“Jensen, it’s not all fixed like that.”

“Okay,” he said, kissing you one more time. “I’m going to keep doing that in the meantime.”

“Hey,” you said, grabbing his hand. “You have a scare like that, you call me. I don’t care if you got an hour left and we had the biggest fight in the world. Call me.”

“I was getting close to cracking regardless of the test results. I heard I may have mentioned something at the last con to a few people.”

“You did. Let’s just hang out and eat pizza like we did the first time you came over my place?” you asked. “Try to be friends again?”

“Yeah. I really missed you, Y/N.”

Three hours later you were laying on your couch watching a movie, snuggled up under a blanket. You titled your head back and Jensen gave you a soft smile, his arm over your waist pulling you back into his chest more. He kissed your temple and you thought back to the hundred million times you’d done this same thing before.

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” you asked. 

“Because I didn’t know how you felt and the idea of losing you was horrifying. I have had plenty of girlfriends before. I’ve only felt this once and I’m not letting it go,” he said.

“Spend the night,” you said.

“I’ve been drinking. I probably should crash on the couch,” he said. You shook your head and gave him a smile. “Oh. In the...should we really dive into that right away?”

“I just want you close by,” you said. “Nothing more than innocent cuddling for now.”

“I’m very much up for that,” he said. You turned off the movie and grabbed his hand, pulling him down into your bedroom. “All the times I’ve been over here, I’ve never actually seen your room.”

“I know it’s kinda girly,” you said, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“It’s relaxing,” he said with a smile. “I like it much better than my room.”

“Isn’t your house like gorgeous?” you asked.

“I moved,” he said. “About 4,000 square feet now versus the eight.”

“Oh. Well you’re like everybody else now, aren’t you?” you teased. He chuckled and you got an extra blanket out of your closet, Jensen spotting your weighted blanket on the bed.

“Too much house for just me. Never cared for it much. This one is simpler. More of a blank canvas,” he said, taking the soft blanket you knew he liked when he slept on the couch. “How’s your anxiety lately?”

“Not great,” you said. “Better but not great. You’re crap pilled on top of…”

“Top of what?” he asked.

“My dad got released,” you said, sitting on the bottom of the bed. Jensen sat down beside you and you sighed. “It’s been twenty five years, Jay. He got out.”

“Are you scared?”

“No. He’s up in Maine and he has diabetes and cancer,” you said. “He’s in the process of dying.”

“The runt comment,” said Jensen and you nodded. “Y/N, I’m sorry I ever said that.”

“S’not your fault my dad was crappy to my mom and me,” you said. He took your hand in his and laced your fingers together. “She was really happy when she met Charlie. He’s exactly what she needed.”

“He’s what you needed too. You got a real dad and even your little brother a few years later. I’m sorry you had to spend five in a not so great place,” he said.

“Never lie to me again,” you said.

“I promise,” he said. 

“You’re really okay?” you asked.

“Yes. For the hundredth time, I am perfectly healthy. I watched them draw the blood and take it straight into the lab myself.”

“You should call your parents,” you said. “Let them know the good news.”

“It’s late for them,” he said. “I’ll call first thing. Do you mind if I take off my jeans?”

“Of course not. It’s not like I’ve seen you in your underwear before,” you said. He stood and kicked them off as you excused yourself into your bathroom. You exited in a pair of shorts and shirt, Jensen spreading the blanket out over one side of the bed. You walked around and climbed under the sheets, Jensen following after. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” he said. You flipped off the light and the room was quiet. Jensen shifted and your head turned, Jensen’s face closer now. You rolled onto your side and rested your cheek on the pillow, Jensen glancing down. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. You thought you were stopping me from a worse kind of pain. Never do anything like that again and you’re forgiven.”

“I won’t,” he said. “It was a dumb split second decision.”

“It’s okay. I still like you. I’m sorry for how I acted too. I never should have shoved you out of my life for thinking you didn’t have feelings.”

“It hurt and you needed space and time. We would have come back together,” he said. “We did.”

“Because you found out you weren’t sick.”

“I was coming over tonight no matter what the test said.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t imagine how shitty I’d feel if you didn’t love me back. When I heard you talking to Jared...I’d never felt that happy before. Something about you is just...special.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” you teased. You leaned over and kissed him quickly. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Looking forward to it, sweetheart.”

_______

[misterghostfrog]

39 FOR THE PROMPTS PLEASE AAAAA

LOOK OK, i’m going to start by saying this one... got away from me a little bit. And I didn’t originally mean to combine the prompts, and neither are technically correct. BUT consider you can’t stop me

39. Kissing tears from the other’s face.

30. Pulling away from a kiss, whispering words of love against each other’s lips.

Cw; This takes place after the unknowing but before Jon wakes up in canon, and Martin starts in a rough headspace. Also accidental compulsion.

(This is actually a sorta part-2 to the pre-unknowing ficlet I did! Tho u don’t gotta read it to understand it works as a standalone too. Anyway welcome to the AU ZONE)

EDIT: fixed a typo

Martin usually visits Jon on Thursday.

He used to visit every day. But the nurses began to give him looks after the first month, and it was hard to balance checking on Jon with regular life things like groceries, laundry, and work. So he’s cut back. If only to preserve his sanity.

He considered Sunday. But Sunday is the day he visits his mum, another thing that has been hard to balance with- well. Everything. Besides, it’s hard to stack that much heartbreak into one day.

The receptionist gives him a funny look. He would give himself a funny look too, he looks a wreck, he knows it. She knows him, so seeing him on a wednesday looking like he crawled out of the back end of hell. Or maybe just hasn’t done any laundry for a few days. Or showered. And got in a fight and lost.

He’s already waited too long though, he thinks. He... well. It’s his last chance, he supposes. If Jon isn’t coming back, then...

Yeah.

It’ll be for the best.

He turns the knob on the door, he knows what he’ll say. Even if he’s talking to a dead man he needs a speech apparently. And-

He bounces off of something- or someone. Who trips back a step in turn.

“Oh god- I’m so sorry-” He says almost automatically.

“No, don’t worry about it I wasn’t-”

“I wasn’t even looking where I was going a-and-”

“Really it’s fine-”

The man isn’t a nurse, Martin’s sees that much. He’s tall-ish. Handsome, certainly. Definitely no-one he’s ever met. And certainly no-one he thinks might have a reason to visit Jon. Not that Jon shouldn't get handsome visitors, but- well. He doesn’t- didn’t? Have many people outside of the institute he ever talked about. And so this guy turning up out of the blue is... well.

“Er- I’m sorry, but who... who are you?”  He’s not- he’s not upset. that this random stranger is visiting Jon. It’s just weird is all. Yeah. Really weird, actually.

“Oh! I- I’m- I’m a friend of Jons.” The man says with an awkward smile, his eyes darting down to his shoes for a moment as he says it. “Er- Antonio.” He tacks the name on like an afterthought. This time his gaze flicks somewhere around Martin's shoulder, he shuffles on his feet.

Martin’s never been an expert at picking up on lies, not to say he’s bad at it. He just doesn’t find it something to worry about generally. But it’s hard not to notice when ‘Antonio’ is basically holding an imaginary blinking neon sign that says ‘I AM LYING’ with accompanying metaphorical Morse code with the same message.

He swears he’s heard that name before though.

“Oh. Er- he’s never um, talked about you?” he says carefully.

“Oh, yeah. Very old friends. Haven’t um- talked in a while.” ‘Antonio’ waves a hand awkwardly. And casting consistent looks towards the elevator.

“Uh-huh.”

“Anyway! I’m uh- I’ll be going now. Visits over stuff to do y’know.” He’s already walking away as he says it, backing up for a moment and casting a quick wave before trotting away down the hall.

“Oh, y-yeah. Sure, bye?” Martin waves- though ‘Antonio’ isn’t looking. Watching as he basically runs down the hall.

“Bye!” ‘Antonio’ throws over his shoulder as he turns the corner to the elevators.

Well then.

“Huh.”

That’s not how he thought this visit was going to start.

He pauses for a moment. He’d been working off of something of a momentum. Check in with the nurse, make his speech. And be ready to say his goodbyes. But that... whatever just happened. Well, it threw him off.

He sighs.

It doesn’t matter. Weirdo visiting Jon. Seems about right, actually. If he thinks about it. Probably left a statement somewhere too, just to complete the weird weird picture.

The word ‘weird’ is starting to sound less like the a word the more he thinks about it.

He pushes the door to the hospital room open, he knows he’s imagining it. But the air feels heavier. The dread of the situation. The finality. Jon is still there, unmoving in his hospital bed. There's several machines tucked into the corner, they’d unhooked him from everything after the first month when it became clear that this is simply his state of being. That’s also about the time the nurses started telling him Jon probably wasn’t waking up.

He’s not going to wake up. Martin knows he’s not going to wake up. He’s been fooling himself for so long but now with the flesh attack he needs to do something. Or at the very least stop feeling like he’s doing nothing. But being miserable isn’t a solution either. 

Maybe there is no solution. Maybe it’s just, problems. Stuff he can’t fix or deal with and just- has to let it follow him until he dies.

He shifts, and his ankle twinges.

He’d tripped. It’s so stupid, it wasn’t even the monsters. He’d just- fallen and ended up hiding in a side room while everyone else dealt with meaty things crawling out of the floorboards. Just sat and hid and did nothing.

He’s tired of doing nothing.

Jon snores, interrupting his train of thought.

Martin smiles, god he’d forgotten Jon did that. Those little snorting snores- he’d only heard them a few times, back at the institute. It had scared the hell out of him the first time he’d been living-

Wait.

What?

Martin blinks. And watches as Jon scrunches his nose, making a small irritated noise- and turns over.

What.

His head skips, rewinds. Plays what he just saw back. Jon is breathing, how long has he been breathing? Doesn’t matter, he’s breathing which means he’s alive but what-

That weird guy. “Antonio”

He’s gone, Martin knows he’s gone. But he checks anyway. Even running all the way to the elevators. But he’s gone.

And Jon...

Jon is alive.

The thought hits his brain, and then slips away like a wet fish. There’s no guarantees. This could be a fluke, this could be a trap. It might not even be Jon. Just... something that looks like him, and snores like him. And-

A nurse taps him on the shoulder. And he realizes he’s been staring at the elevators for, well, he doesn’t know how long. Long enough to catch several concerned glances from passers-by though.

“Are you alright sir?” She asks, politely. He recognizes her, he chatted with her once when visiting Jon. She’s nice. She does the check ups a lot of the time, one of the few who’ll actually do it.

“He’s alive.” He says flatly, instead of answering. Because he’s not sure what the answer to the question is anyway.

The doctors do tests, though not many. According to them he’s fine. Fit as a fiddle aside from some fatigue and a little confusion. Which clearly makes them uncomfortable. Which he understands. A man wakes up from a three-month coma like he’d just rolled out of bed on a Monday morning? It makes him uncomfortable too, he thinks.

Basira drops off a statement. ‘Just felt like I should’ she’d said when he asked why. And neither of them felt particularly good about that answer.

After the statement he’s fine, not even fatigued. He’s alive.

He keeps looking at Martin.

Martin isn’t sure why he doesn’t want to look back.

Maybe it’s because it still feels like a trap, all of a sudden he comes back with no- no fanfare no effort. Right as rain and just... there.

Nobody else wants to deal with him right now- not after he just pulled a Lazarus like that. Jon wants to go to the institute. But Martin isn’t having it. He just woke up from a three-month coma. He’s going home. And yes- his lease apparently expired before the unknowing, so he doesn’t have a place to stay. And yes the only person willing to give him a place to stay is Martin. And Martin... well, it’s Jon. and even if it wasn’t, in the wake of losing three months of his life- and a friend. Or someone who had been a friend at a point before this all went to hell. He wouldn’t leave him alone for anything.

Martin tries to force himself to come to terms with it as they both climb into his car- this is what he wanted. He should be overjoyed. But it feels... it feels like if he looks at Jon for too long he’ll just... disappear. Or stop breathing again. Or stop being Jon.

“Good to see not too much has changed while I was gone.” Jon says wryly as he wrestles with the seatbelt. Which squeaks as he struggles to pull it out far enough to actually fasten it.

Martin just hums in response. Not trusting his voice not to betray whatever it is he’s feeling right now.

The drive to his flat is mostly quiet, aside from a few awkward attempts at conversation from Jon that all fall miserably flat. Eventually he gives up, and the rest of the drive is spent in silence. 

It’s not too far from the hospital to his flat. So before he knows it he’s leading Jon up the steps to his home.

It’s not much, he knows. Can’t afford anything truly fancy when carrying medical bills around. But it’s nice, homey. He hopes.

“Home sweet home.” He says, dropping his keys on the table by the door and hoping he sounds cheery. Because he doesn’t know what else to be right now. He’s figured out what emotion he’s feeling, though he’s not sure it counts as an emotion honestly.

Numb. 

Stupid, isn’t it? 

“The bathrooms down the hall- I think your stuff’s all in storage at the moment,” his voice wobbles at that, he swallows “so we’ll have to go get that soon. You can help yourself to anything in the fridge-” He’s stopped by a hand on his wrist. Familiar, too-thin, and cool.

“Martin.” Jon says. “Did I... did I do something to upset you?” It’s a question, small and helpless. Martin just wants to brush it off, he’s fine. He just needs time-

“You died, Jon.” He says instead. The words coming out unbidden.

“I- I came back.” He tightens his grip on Martins wrist for a moment before loosening  “In one piece even. I believe that was a part of our agreement” There’s a note of teasing in that last part, Martin wishes it was funny.

“I said come back safe Jon, not ‘come back from the dead’” Jon's hand drops from his wrist.

“Do you not... Are you not glad I’m back?” He sounds- sad. Of course he sounds sad Martin basically just said he wished he'd died.

“Of course I’m glad your back, I just-”

“Then what’s wrong?” The words are just- they’re just words. But Martin feels something pull in his chest.

Martin looks at Jon for the first time since the hospital.

“I’m scared, Jon! I You were dead for three months, Y-you didn’t even have a heartbeat and I-” He brings a hand upland runs it through his hair, Jon doesn’t need to hear this. He should be resting not listening to Martin dump his issues like this- “you were dead and I was the only one left. A-and yeah you came back, but- god what even is this! You’re just, fine. A-and I’m- I don’t want you to not be fine but I- I can’t even prove to myself that you’re real and not- I-I don’t-” He forces himself to stop. clamping his jaw shut around the words that suddenly feel like they’re pushing at the back of his throat like bile. Jon stares back at him, eyes wide and confused and hurt. He’s disheveled and still wearing the pajamas Martin had brought for him in the first week. Small and tired and maybe even real. He looks at Jon until he can’t because his vision begins to blur and his eyes begin to burn.

“Martin, I- I’m- I’m sorry I-” Jon's blurry form moves, and Martin shuts his eyes. Shaking his head. He should be the one apologizing, Jon didn’t need to hear that and he just- threw it at him.

“I’m-” Martin tries to apologize, but it comes out as little more than a croak. Cool hands cup his cheeks, and he opens his eyes. Jon's face is closer now, eyes scanning desperately over Martin's face.

“I- I’m not- I don’t know what I am but I’m- I-I’m me. I-I promise, I don’t know how to prove it to you but I-” Jon starts, and Martin can see his lips move to form the words-

Jon is here, he’s alive. He’s awake. His hands are on Martin's cheeks and he’s running his thumb through the tear tracks, fumbling over awkward reassurances. and looking so, so earnest. Hell, he made a joke about a conversation nobody else heard. Something just between the two of them, nobody else. And to fear entities, maybe that doesn’t matter. But for now, with Jon so close and acting so perfectly imperfectly Jon. Martin can let- no. Make himself believe. Jon’s not dead, it’s not a trap. Not right now, not yet. Just for right now, Martin isn’t alone anymore.

It doesn’t take much to lean forward, pressing their lips together. Jon makes a small, cut-off sound of surprise before melting into it, letting a hand move to the back of Martin's hair and the other fall to his shoulder. Martin's arms wrapping around Jon's waist.

Eventually they have to part for air. Martin doesn’t open his eyes, but he can feel Jon's breath on his face, and his hand in his hair and it’s all just another reminder he’s alive. And so wonderfully real.

He feels Jon move after a moment, using the hand he’s left on the back of Martin's head to guide him down. Pressing now-warm lips to the wet patches on his cheeks. Martin tries to laugh, he’s not sure why. It all just seems a little absurd all of a sudden. but it comes out as sort of a wet hiccup. Prompting Jon to tilt his head, and lock their lips together again.

Martin doesn’t know how long they stand in his entryway, trading kisses and just... being in each other's arms. But it’s long enough he’s run out of tears for Jon to try to kiss away, and the strange wired feeling has faded. Leaving him tired and heavy and in desperate need of a lie-down.

He pulls back, though not far. He can still feel Jon's lips against his as he speaks.

“Please don’t die again.” He says softly.

Jon sighs, pressing a small, chaste kiss against his lips.

“I’ll do my best,” he says, and Martin can feel the words as Jon's mouth brushes his as much as he hears them. And then he kisses Martin again, like he’s trying to seal the words there with his lips.

And, Martin supposes that promise was enough last time. It might be more than enough for him now.

[thewatermelloncat]

Blankets

Deleted Scene

Summary: A Five sickfic I wrote inspired by @too-many-umbrellas post here and the notes from it, because people have amazing ideas and this story barely scratches the surface.

Author’s Note: I might do a whole story with all the siblings causing chaos like in the original post eventually. 

I also have a bonus story which I will post up later on tomorrow that I’ll link onto this one. (Edit: Linked up top)

Warnings: Swearing

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The weather report said it would be sunny – it lied. Thunder crashes outside as Five staggers back into the living room, the booming sound reflecting his frustration. He looks exhausted as he makes his way back to the couch where he had been seated a minute earlier.

“It’s really kicking your arse isn’t it?” Luther observes.

Five nods minutely, closing his eyes and sniffling miserably into his sleeve.

Taking pity on him Luther tosses him the box of tissues from the coffee table. Surprisingly Five manages to catch it before taking a few and blowing his nose as he sits back onto the couch.

“How far did you go this time?” Klaus asks from up on one of the barstools.

“Upstairs and round the corner a bit” Five tells him, sounding weak and raspy.

“Why didn’t you just jump back?”

“Gee, Klaus. I wish I thought of that” Five’s voice drips in sarcasm before he covers a few hollow coughs behind his fist, wincing slightly afterward.

“How’s your throat?” Five’s pained expression doesn’t pass Luther by.

His seemingly younger brother only shakes his head, both not answering and answering his question at the same time.

“How many times has it been today that you poofed off somewhere?” Klaus chuckles slightly as he spins on the chair, his feet lazily dragging behind him in the air.

“Lost count.”

“Well there was when you got sent to the kitchen. Oh-ho and the one where you teleported into Diego’s room just as he was about to leave for work. That was so funny, scared the living daylights outta him” – Klaus laughs, ticking them off on his fingers before Five cuts him off.

“Klaus, stop… It-it really doesn’t matter” Five sighs pulling the blanket from on the couch around his shoulders and tucking his legs up to his chest, resting his head on his knees. He knew his brother was only having fun but it wasn’t helping his headache any.

Klaus pauses his listing while his brother speaks but decides to scrap his list entirely seeing the pointed look Luther gives him. Pursing his lips, he swings his legs forward propelling himself off the chair then makes his way to sit next to Five.

“This has really got you down hasn’t it, old man?” Klaus teases him.

“I’m fine” Five’s voice already muted and now muffled by his knees, does him no favours in proving his point.

“No, wrong letter” Klaus says, wrapping an arm over his brother and pulling him into his side. “It’s said ‘Five’ not ‘fine.’”

Five immediately pulls out of Klaus’ grip, fixing him with a look which would have been a lot more threatening if he didn’t look like he was half asleep.

“Come on!” Klaus whines. “That was clever.”

Five only just has time to roll his eyes before his turns away into his elbow, “Kihh'tschh!!!” and in a flash of blue he’s gone.

Klaus blinks in bewilderment at the now lonely blanket in a heap on the couch before he immediately turns to Luther. “Bet he went” – his voice is cut off by Five’s unimpressed tone sounding from behind the wall near the doorway.

“Klaus if you’re placing bets, I swear” – Five’s raised voice cuts off, leaving them in silence for a few seconds. “Huh’Tschh!”

Suddenly there is a crackle of energy and a faint blue spark that casts rays of light on the doorframe.

“Fuck!” Five’s curse sounds muffled through the floor boards, having been teleported further away up to the third floor.

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The first few times Five had spontaneously teleported he’d come back looking annoyed, now as he re-enters the living room, he seems completely over it. If anything, he’s glad that neither of his siblings make a joke out of it. Sure, he might find it funny later but not now, exhausted from the long trek down various flights of stairs.

“Come here” Luther interrupts Five’s beeline for the couch, gesturing for him to come over to him.

Five bites back a huff of frustration but obliges, only because he can’t be bothered arguing. Slowly he comes to stand in front of Luther who reaches out a hand to place of his forehead.

None of them need anymore clarification to know that Luther’s hum of disapproval means that Five’s fever is going up. “You dizzy at all?” it wouldn’t surprise Luther if he was with all the teleporting he is doing.

Five shakes his head, one of the few things he is grateful for. “Just tired” he sighs as he sinks back into the couch next to Klaus, who wraps the blanket back over his shoulders.

“You hungry?” Luther asks. “Think we’ve still got leftovers in the fridge.”

Five shakes his head.

“Get some sleep then, yeah?”

Five’s hum of content as he goes to snuggle back into the couch quickly turns into a groan of frustration as he pushes himself back up, rubbing his hand against his nose. “Please God, no” he begs, closing his eyes tightly trying to will the itch away. He just got back for fuck’s sake. But there’s nothing he can do and his chest inhales involuntarily. “Ktt'schh!!” and in a poof of blue sparks he’s gone again.

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As the last of the blue sparks fade into nothing, the steady sound of footsteps echo from around the corner.

“Is Five here? I swear I just heard him” Allison says as she stops in the doorway to the room.

“Sneezed and poofed away” Klaus tells her.

“Where did he go?”

“Dunno” Klaus admits quietly, seeming confused that they haven’t heard Five cursing from somewhere by now.

Allison seems confused as well as she looks around the edge of the upper floors from the base of the staircase, “Five?”

At the lack of response to his sister’s calling, Luther pushes himself out of his chair and walks forward to join her. “Five!” his deeper voice carries further, echoing around the foyer.

“He can’t have gone far, can he?” Klaus asks worriedly, coming to join them.

“Doubt it” Luther shakes his head, “it is been draining him.”

“Do you think he could have passed out?” Allison’s question is answered nonverbally as they all share worried looks before splitting off in different directions.

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The raindrops Five blinks out of his eyes may as well be tears from the amount of resentment he currently feels. Except crying is a waste of time, and it would be pointless to cry over an ability he can’t change. So instead he draws in a deep breath beginning to trudge through the puddles on the footpath, already drenched by the rain.

He’d tried to jump back when he first landed but only succeed in turning the air around him blue, too weak to teleport again. He’d given up after his third try and surrendered to the cold walk home.

There aren’t many people around to judge why a boy is wondering around the street without an umbrella, only a few who run along sheltered by their coats above their heads, ducking under overhangs. He makes it to the next street down before he draws in a breath and ducks into his elbow, “hah’kshhhuu!”

He wishes that it could have teleported him back to the academy, but it only manages to fizzle out blue sparks like a battery dying.

His teeth chatter as he crosses his arms with a shiver, and he forces himself to think of something positive. At least he knows where he is and he’s not too far from the Academy. Still, he wishes his uniform had a hood or he had teleported with the blanket that had been wrapped around him, either way he would have had something to shelter him from the rain.

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Diego’s brow knits in confusion as he walks through the foyer seeing no one around. He’d left them all in the lounge before he left for work, and he’d thought they’d still be there. At least Five who was supposed to spend the day crashed on the couch.

Seeing nothing but a blanket he shrugs before heading for the stairs up to his room. Suddenly he turns around at the sound of hurried footsteps behind him, running up the stairs from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong?” he asks Allison as she looks around frantically.

“We lost Five?” she says, barely sparing him a glance as she moves back into the lounge to have another look around.

“What do you mean you lost him?”

“He sneezed and disappeared!” Klaus calls out from the railing of the second level.

“Have you tried his room?”

“He’s not there!” Luther’s voice echoes from a place where Diego can’t see him before he steps into view behind the railing on the third floor. “I hate to jump to conclusions, but you don’t think he” – he doesn’t need to finish his sentence to get his point across.

A few seconds of silence fall over the siblings as they contemplate whether accidental time travel is even on the cards for him.

Allison is the first person to shake her head. “I doubt it, he wouldn’t have enough energy” she speaks assuredly, but part of her doesn’t know whether it’s denial.

“Is there anywhere you haven’t checked?” Diego asks immediately, not feeling that it’s necessary to dwell on it.

Klaus’ sarcastic comment about how there are over 60 rooms to look around in dies in his throat at the sound of the front door handle turning.

“Oh my God, Five!” Allison all but squeaks as she rushes forward to her brother shutting the door behind him, drenched with rain.

As soon as she’s next to him her hands are all over him, brushing his hair out of his face, checking for fever on his cheeks, then pulling off his soaked blazer after noticing how violently he shivers.

“Where’d you go?” she asks as Klaus steps forward with the blanket in his hands, having raced down the stairs and into the lounge.

“Half a block down the street” Five stutters through shivers before his breath hitches and he raises a hand to his mouth in preparation for a sneeze.

Klaus, having almost touched the blanket to his brother’s shoulders, yelps and jumps back using the blanket as a shield, not wanting to touch him and be hurtled through time and space.

Allison having a completely different reaction, quickly reaches forward placing a hand on his shoulder, hoping that he won’t have the strength to teleport the both of them.

“Heh’tshh!” Five pivots slightly away from her and she feels static run up her arm.

Shaking it out she steps back from Five as he turns back to them.

“I can’t – uhm” he swallows seeming distracted with his eyes unfocused. “I can’t – Ah’Tchhhh - teleport, anymore” he finishes sniffling into his elbow.

Deeming that it is safe to come near him again, Klaus gives him the blanket and the tips of his cold, red fingers turn white as he grips onto it like a lifeline.

“Shower, go” Allison instructs, her voice demanding yet compassionate.

Five nods, and Allison keeps her eyes on him as he walks through the group of his siblings and up the stairs. “Not too hot, all right?”

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Five doesn’t mean to announce his presence back in the lounge by coughing loudly into his elbow, that’s what Klaus would do for attention, but completely against his own character. Either way it couldn’t be helped.

He tries his best to ignore his siblings’ looks of sympathy, particularly Luther’s, as he makes his way to the couch dressed in a pair of Allison’s trackpants and a hoodie. It’s weird to see a guy that big with a face that looks like a kicked puppy. Then again, it’s weird for anyone to see Five out of his standard uniform, let alone with his hands bunched up in the sleeves.

Fighting back the want to shiver, Five sinks into the couch and makes to lie down before Allison stops him.

“Hold up Five” she says, stepping closer to him with a thermometer in hand.

“Do I really have to?” he mumbles, not really seeing the point. He’s had a fever all day and doubts that it would have gone anywhere.

“I just want to check.”

“I just want to sleep.”

“And you can after this” Allison promises him.

“I’m fine” Five groans. “I’m just tired.”

“That would be a lot more convincing if you could speak clearer” Diego jabs at him over the stuffy quality of his voice.

“You’re one to talk” Five bites back, immediately realising his mistake even before Diego falls into silence. That was too mean, even for his standards. “I’m sorry Diego. I-I don’t mean that” he sniffles congestedly into his sleeve, adjusting his position on the couch out of awkwardness. “Just feel horrible.”

“You’re all right, bud” Diego murmurs affectionately, shaking off the last of his hurt expression.

Allison breaks the last of the tension waving the thermometer in the air. “I’m about to start making aeroplane noises.”

“You will not” Five staggers out a response, taking the thermometer out of her hand before she has a chance to shove it in his mouth for him.

As Five goes to slip the thermometer under his tongue Klaus takes his chance at making an aeroplane noise, but quickly cuts off when Five glares at him. Though he can only look so threatening with a pale face, pink nose and cheeks, and a stick of glass protruding from his lips. Still Klaus feels sorry for him and picks up the blanket from the couch and wraps it around him as a peace offering.

His peace offering seems to be overly effective as Five leans into him, resting his head on his shoulder. After taking a second to get over the shock of Five wanting physical contact, Klaus wraps his arm that had slightly flailed in the air around his brother’s shoulders.

Before anyone can make a comment about Five and Klaus showing affection to each other, the front door opens and footsteps head towards the lounge.

Even before they can see her, they hear Vanya’s voice starting to ramble something about one of her violin students, and stopping at the store. When she comes into view, she greets them and they respond in various ways. Klaus feeling Five move underneath his arm, raising a tired hand in a small wave.

“How’re you feeling, Five?” she asks him, her expression falling into sympathy that could rival Luther.

The question doesn’t really need to be answered given how Five has surrendered to physical contact in order to remain upright. He can’t really answer her either with a thermometer in his mouth. So, he tiredly blinks at her, figuring that she will understand.

“We’re not doing too great” Luther answers for him anyway.

“Had a little adventure out in the rain, didn’t we?” Klaus adds squeezing Five closer into his side, making him shift uncomfortably. Whether it was because of the increased contact or the fact that his siblings are speaking about him as if he is a child, Klaus doesn’t have the brains to question it.

“Ah-ha, the glitching” Vanya chuckles lightly as she turns around to place her violin case on the bar.

Diego hops up from his chair and goes over to help her unload the snacks and things that she got from the store, explaining the events in more detail.

At the same time Allison moves back in front of Five to collect the thermometer from him.

After handing it over to her Five releases a few coughs that he had been holding back into his elbow, leaning away from Klaus. In the midst of that activity he misses Allison reading out the verdict and he’s not interested enough to get her to repeat it. Figuring it can’t be too bad or she would have placed her hand back to his forehead or gone back to study the measurement again.

“You can go to sleep now Five” Allison withholds her promise, smiling sadly down at him.

He sighs deeply as he shifts against Klaus who moves so his brother can rest his head on his lap. As they get settled, Allison turns and walks toward the bar to wash the thermometer in the sink. With her back to them she hears Five sniffle slightly before sneezing softly causing Klaus to yelp dramatically.

“’m not going anywhere” she hears Five mumble to him tiredly.

“The blue flash says different!” he accuses.

“We’ll he didn’t go anywhere, did he?” Luther points out so Five doesn’t have to.

“If even if he could go somewhere, there’s no way he could take you with him” Allison tells Klaus as she reaches the sink and turns on the tap.

Her reasoning doesn’t seem to settle Klaus and she looks up from the running water to catch Vanya’s eye, shaking her head and rolling her eyes playfully.

Vanya returns the look, switching up the rolling eyes for a smile before she turns back to the group. “Five, I got some NyQuil from the store if you want any.”

“I don’t think we’ll need it” Klaus says, his voice much quieter than a few seconds ago. Adjusting the blanket over the shoulders of the boy who rests his head on his legs, already asleep.

[reincarnated70sbaby]

maritime madness

led zeppelin x reader

warnings: swearing, drug use

an: so I was sailing yesterday and I was thinking about this the entire time I might have nearly capsized the boat

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“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this” I spoke, staring out at the large blue yacht that rested on the waters of Normandy. It all started the day before, when we were all throwing around tripped out ideas in our hotel room.

“What are we gonna do tomorrow?” Jimmy asked. I sat by his side, my head resting on his bony shoulder. My dose of LSD had just kicked it, and as it was my first time it probably hit me quicker than the others. I tried to speak, but it felt like every time I moved my mouth, it felt like I would stretch my mouth out of shape, like putty.

“Let’s go explore that cathedral, the big massive one, y’know? The one with the hunchback. Maybe we could bump into him or something”

As soon as the words left Robert’s lips, our entire entourage burst out in giggles. I myself, was having hard time controlling my breathing. I had to rest my head in Jimmy’s lap, Jimmy being doubled down over me clutching his stomach.

“Percy, you dumb fucker, y-you know that’s not a real story” Jonesy informed, all his words all broken up by loud chuckles.

Roberts jaw immediately dropped open in shock, along with his eyes widening and brown trashing in confusion.

“Nah, yeah it was, the uh, the hunchman did the um, bells. Yeah, the bells”

“No he didn’t, because he never existed you nonce. It’s a fairytale from the 19th century” Jimmy piped in, adding his extensive knowledge of mythology and folklore into the conversation.

“But me ma said he existed, you’re gonna say my mum lied to me all those years?”

“Well obviously Perce, it’s just a bedtime story” Jonesy added, still chuckling to himself at Robert’s gullible nature.

“Fine then, someone else give an idea since all of mine always get ridiculed” Robert stated, crossing his arms and craning his head back against the footboard of the bed and staring at the ceiling in a huff.

“How about Père Lachaise?”

“What the actual fuck is pear la chair Pagey?” Bonzo asked, pronouncing the words all wrong in his thick Englishman accent.

“It’s Père Lachaise” Jimmy corrected in a perfect French accent, “and it’s a graveyard in Paris, loads of famous people are buried there - Oscar Wilde, Frederic Chopin, Jim Morrison, Edith Piaf”

“Jimmy you must be as mad as Morrison to think we would waste our day off in a fucking dead person museum. Jesus Christ how did we pick you up” Bonzo sighed, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, what about Mont Saint-Michel? It’s this cool island off of the coast. There’s a bridge but once the tide comes in you can’t get in or out. Wouldn’t that be good craic eh?” Jonesy suggested

“No” Bonzo, Jimmy and Robert all said at the same time.

“Ah! You’ve been outnumbered Mr Jones haha. Maybe you and I could go out another time Jonny boy, we could go exploring and see the spirits trapped on the island” I said with a chuckle, the psychedelic in my system making this whole situation very funny.

“Jesus Christ what the fuck did she even say. That her first time on acid?” Robert asked to Jimmy.

“Must’ve been, it hit her pretty quickly” Jimmy replied, staring into my largely dilated pupils. He swore he could’ve seen something dancing in my pupils, but maybe that was just the drug in him.

We all sat in silence for a couple minutes, all of us enjoying our high.

“Innnnnnnnnnnnnnn fourteen hundred ninety two, Columbus sailed the ocean blueeee” I sang, the lyrics being the only words of a song I could think of to fill the silence. A beat of silence passed and I wondered if everybody suddenly passed out, either into sleep or another dimension.

As I started the next line, everyone else joined in with me. We eventually finished the entire song, even an encore requested by the boys. I sung the encore in a horrendous, deep operatic voice while prancing round the hotel room. A round of applause sounded, and I took my theatrical bows in front of my supportive crowd.

“That’s It! I know what we can do tomorrow. God that is a good idea!” Bonzo declared, jumping up to his feet, not before nearly tumbling backwards.

“Go on then Bonz, don’t leave us guessing mate” Jonesy suggested, breaking the dramatic silence that had ensued.

“Rent a yacht! We can go out early in the morning and stay overnight since our flight back home is in the evening anyway! All we need to do is hire a skipper or something”

We all were stoked at idea of having a private boat to ourselves. Sure, none of the boys were experienced sailors, but that’s what a professional skipper was for, driving rich people around in yachts right?

“Do we really have to do this” I said, making our way through the marina to our yacht.

“The skipper will probably dive off the boat when we get started tonight” Jonesy commented, sharing my lack of enthusiasm for the maritime adventure. “We should have ditched them and gone to Mont Saint-Michel”. I only hummed in response, dragging my overnight suitcase over the gaps in the planks of wood on the dock.

“Um yeah, about that skipper. We couldn’t exactly book one on such short notice” Cole confessed.

“What the actual fuck Cole? Are we just supposed to sail ourselves and drown? I can’t tie a knot to save my bloody life” Robert shrieked. We all stopped in our tracks and turned to the tour manager, glaring at him through our sunglasses.

“Of course not Percy, why would we do that to our cash cows hm? And this is a motorboat, no ropes involved. It’s basically like driving a car. In water. In fact, all you need to drive it is a drivers license, which I’m positive you all have judging by your expansive car choices. Forgot to mention that myself and Peter have opted out” With that note, Cole dropped the yacht keys into Bonzo’s hand and scuttled away.

We all stood there, bags in hand, confusion over our faces as we watched Cole’s figure disappear behind the hundred of other boats.

“Well shit” Jonesy said, the sourness in his voice barely hidden.

“Let’s just go check it out, we don’t even have to leave the marina if we can drive it, we’ll just park out all night” Bonzo affirmed, being unusually optimistic.

We all found the boat and as the boys started embarking aboard, I thought out loud.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this”

“Cmon darling, let’s just see what it’s like. If you hate it we’ll do something else” Jimmy compromised, outstretching his hand to me.

The boat bobbed a bit on the water as I stepped on.

“It’s not hating it I’m worried about, I was practically raised on a boat Jim, I’m just not sure 4 rockstars and a boat is a great combination”

“It’s okay we won’t go too hard, at least one of us won’t, I guess. Anyway, you were raised on a boat? Like a houseboat or something?”

“No, my dad was a skipper. Whenever he was home from trips, he would teach my and my siblings to sail. Y’know the whole nine yards, all the different knots, pulling in the ropes, steering, navigating charts. It’s just been a while since I’ve been on one and I hope I can remember everything”

“Gosh you are fabulous, my dear, I learn something new about you everyday” Jimmy said, pulling me in for a kiss. There was a loud bang of the engine, which we both jumped apart at.

“What the fuck are they at now, Christ” Jimmy sighed.

“Here, go set down our stuff in the biggest room, I’ll go see what they’re messing with”

We both parted, Jimmy heading downstairs, myself climbing onto the helm.

“Oi, Bonz, Percy, step away from the wheel until I get us out of this parking lot” I commanded. Both Robert and Bonzo looked at me funny, before slowly raising their arms and stepping away.

“And you know better?” Bonzo asked, still not sure where my bossiness came from.

“I think I do, unless you have your skipper license on hand?”

“Wait, you have a sailing license?” Robert interjected.

“I actually don’t, but I know everything you need to not drown. My father was a sailor and he taught me how to run a boat. Thank god we have a motorboat, as we might’ve been a little trouble if we have a proper sailing yacht. If we were, it wouldn’t have been as relaxing as simply steering a wheel” I answered, switching the engine on.

We warmed up the engine for a couple minutes, then casted off and finally escaped the madness of the marina. Soon were out on the French coastline. We continued sailing perpendicular to the coast, not wanting to stray too far. All the boys took turns steering, with Jonesy being the best skipper in-training out of all of them. Only once had we had anchored the boat again was the real party going to start.

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if only sailing was this easy in reality 😒

anyway I’m gonna do a spicier part 2 riiight now😎

leave any comments/ideas down below!!!!

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tag list : @rebel-without-a-zeppelin @princesspagey @dreamersdrowse

[caramelcal]

the truth hurts... {part ten}

Every time your soulmate lies, a mark presents itself on your body. In a world like this, people normally told the truth so that their soulmate didn’t have to deal with the consequences. But your soulmate? They seemed persistent to make your life hell, and mark your body until there was no skin left.

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n: hi guys! sorry, it feels like so long since I’ve posted this series but here is the next part! I hope you guys enjoy it! have a wonderful day lovelies x 

Taglist: (comment if you want to be added, or you can message me) @itsjustmeiguessallrightthen​ @moonbeams-stuff  @cece-lives-here​ @aprilfire18​ @adrianaprox​ @slytherinrising​ @deadric @xforeveralonerxx​ @lady1505​ @feyre-amidala 

Warnings: kissing i guess lol, swearing

disclaimer: i do not condone plagiarism on my work at all, this has not been posted on any other platforms, or on tumblr anywhere else but my account (rosemoonmist) if you see anyone plagiarizing mine (or anyone else’s account) please inform the rightful author ! thank you lovelies x

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It was dark when you opened your eyes, a ceiling much different to your bedroom one meeting your eyes. Your vision was obscured but was quickly clearing up as the daze from your sleep passed. There was a reoccurring dripping sound, like a leaking roof. The room smelled dingy and was cold, making you shiver on your spot. Where the hell were you?

With that thought, you try to sit up but find that you can’t. You can’t move. Eyes shooting open yet again, your heart rate speed up making you look down where you lay. Thick leather constraints hold you to the operating table, metal operating table hitting uncomfortably against your back.

The Dread Doctor’s Lair.

You couldn’t do anything though, your hope for you getting out of sticky situations diminishing as you think properly. You couldn’t scream, you didn’t even know where you were and if Scott would even hear you, but the Dread Doctors would, and they would get to you a lot faster. Even if you were to get out, you couldn’t fight the Dread Doctors, or Theo if you came across him; a bitter taste came into your mouth just thinking about him. You couldn’t even move, not only the restraints holding you down, but you feel weak. Far weaker than you should have been feeling.

That’s when your eyes cast down to your arm, seeing several tubes filled with strange liquids flowing into your bloodstream. No. Against your better thinking, you hopelessly tug on the restraints again.

“There’s no point struggling, n/n,” A voice says softly from the far corner of the room, eyes flickering up to the corner, he steps out of the shadows and your throat closes up. You struggle again, harsher, with more panic in your movement that he certainly doesn’t miss, “You’ll only make yourself weaker.”

“What have you done to me?” You croak out, now just noticing how scratchy your voice is. You don’t know how long you’ve been here, but it feels like you’ve certainly been deprived of water for a while.

“Don’t sound so accusing y/n. It’s a gift, really,” Theo smirks at you, but you simply glare back. His eyes cast down to your restrained body as he reaches the operating table you were on, hand ghosting lightly over your clothed leg. You try your best to reject his touch but the restraints don’t allow that, yet he still notices, blue eyes glancing up at you, “Well I guess you’re not in a great mood today, y/n.”

“Fuck off, Raeken,” You spit out, eyes glaring dangerously at the boy. Somehow, even though your lack of power over him at the moment, you still didn’t back down and he guessed he could respect that.

“Well y/n, that’s not very nice is it?” Theo said, tilting his head to the side as he pouted lightly, eyes never leaving yours, “You should be thanking me, after all.”

“For what? Turning me into a monster like you?” You grimace at the sight of him, eyes looking up and down his body with distaste.

Theo, who was standing by your feet walked around the operating table, coming closer to your head wiped a piece of your hair out of your face before he notices something else on your face, “You’re not a monster, not yet. But once you come back everything will finally be in order.”

“Come back?”

Theo hesitates to answer before his finger reaches for your mouth again, with that, he lightly touches your lip before pulling back. He looks down at his hand for several moments, before his blue eyes glance back at you, “I guess what I said in the library is true, I’ll be your alpha soon enough, even with Scott in the picture. You aren’t the one that the Dread Doctors are looking for.”

“You’ll never be my alpha.”

“I don’t think you have many other choices, y/n,” Theo replied with a smirk, looking back down at his hand as his eyes widen in amusement when you look at him with confusion etched on your face. Wordlessly, he turns his hand around and it makes your stomach drop. On his hand, is what he wiped from your mouth.

Mercury.

. . .

A gasp wakes you up, your body flying forward into a sitting position whilst you heave in deep breaths. Your world feels like it's spinning, your hand hitting against your chest, almost as if it’s trying to let something out. Your eyes notice something, a dark wooden door placed in front of you. Your bedroom door. You’re home and you’re safe.

You clamber out of bed, bare feet hitting against the soft carpet underneath as you walk over to your mirror. Your hand reaches up to touch the corner of your mouth, where Theo had touched only moments ago but your hand comes back clean. Your gaze doesn’t leave your reflection as you look over the rest of yourself, reaching to pull the long sleeves of your jumper up as you hear a voice, “You surely are dramatic aren’t you?”

You whip around, stepping back so that your back is firmly pressed against the mirror as your eyes survey the dark room. Again, in very him fashion, Theo steps out of the shadows, a smirk on his face, “Theo.”

“Y/n,” He nods his head, taking a step forward with his hands clasped behind his back. He looks different from the last time you saw him, his hair is slightly longer than before, his smirk a little wider.

“Don’t come any closer, Theo, I swear,” You spit out at the boy, looking up and down his body, seething.

He tuts at you lightly, his smirk never falling off of his face whilst he shakes his head, “Ouch, Princess, such hostility.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Now, now, don’t pretend that you don’t like it,” Theo had always been confident but this was a new high.

Yet, deep down, even though you hated Theo so much for everything he had done, he was right. You had been willing to let Theo in just before he betrayed the pack, but that was always his plan, he never liked you. He never would.

“What do you want, Theo?” You say, breaking the silence that you and Theo found yourself, thick with tension.

He cocks his head to the side, his smile mocking as he speaks, “Can’t I just come to check on you? Is that such a crime?”

“It will be if I get a restraining order which I am seriously considering right now,”

“I think you forget n/n, I can hear that little heartbeat of yours,” Theo says, moving closer dreadfully slow before he stops right in front of you, pointing at your heart. His voice is husky now, his breath fanning dangerously over your face as he begins to speak again, “I can also hear how fast your heart is beating right now, and I know that you want this as much as I do.”

You don’t move away, and when Theo attached his lips onto you, it shamefully doesn’t take you much time to reciprocate. You shouldn’t be here with him right now, your back pressed up against your wall, hand in his hair, with his hands around you, encasing you in his hold.

The kiss was passionate, and it was full of need. You and Theo hadn’t seen each other for weeks, and now here you were. You had been trying to convince yourself that you hated him, but right now you weren’t doing well for that plan.

Eventually, Theo breaks away from your lips for a breather, yet as soon as he’s finished getting his breath back, you have your lips back against him. It’s addictive, not only him but because you know that you can’t have him. It makes you want him more. Now, you’re taking the lead and he’s the one against the wall, your hands pressed against his stomach, feeling his abs through the shirt he has on.

You can feel him smirk into the kiss as he tries to take control again, shifting around and has your back smashed against the wall. You’re practically melted against him as his tongue explores your mouth. It isn’t long before things escalate and he’s reaching for your sweater, one that you don’t even think about twice before taking off.

His lips are back on yours once the sweater is off, and you don’t even feel slightly uncomfortable with the sweater on the floor. The next thing you know, his lips are against your neck, then your collarbone, sucking on the skin and leaving it to bruise.

Your hand is still entangled in his hair, your eyes slightly opening in pleasure but suddenly your body goes rigid. Theo feels your shoulders tense, and he hears your heart rate speed up, pulling away from you with a look of confusion but your eyes aren’t on him, they’re on your arm.

Your arm, the one that was covered with ink because of your soulmate and their lies. But it’s gone. The ink is gone.

[radiantroope]

Something More || Topper Thornton

pairing: topper x reader

mentions: the pogues, rafe, kelce

requested: yes; anon asked “hi! can i make a request for a topper imagine. something like after sarah breaks his heart and you try to be there for him even though you’re a pogue so he’s an ass at first but then he just wants someone to listen to him and eventually he’s all crazy for you. fluffy? maybe a little smutty?”

warnings: angry!topper, verbal abuse(?), slight violence, angst, swearing, fluffy soft topper, SMUTTY SMUT SMUT AT THE END, unprotected sex (wrap it up kiddos), spanking

author’s note: this is unedited because it’s long as hell and i’m lazy but yeah, hope you enjoy🤪 i also think i went a little off from the request but i tried to keep it as close as possible!

masterlist | add yourself to my tag list

* this is not my gif! if it’s yours, please let me know so i can give you proper credit!!

You were at work when your phone started ringing in the break room. You were sat at a table, munching on a salad for lunch. Your eyebrows furrowed when you saw Kiara’s name across the top. The Pogues and you had an agreement not to call each other work unless it was important. You slid your finger across the bottom to answer and swallowed your bite of food.

“Kie? Everything okay?” you said as you held the phone to your ear.

“No everything is not okay!” she exclaimed loudly on the other end. You pulled the phone away from your ear in shock before bringing it back. “John B just brought Sarah Cameron over here. They’ve been macking behind our backs and he lied about it!”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you dropped the plastic fork into your bowl. Topper and Sarah had just gone to Midsummers together. You’d just seen them at the country club the other day because, as fate would have it, they got sat in your section. You had to watch them disgustingly flirt across the table the whole time you tried to wait on them.

“She was cheating on Topper?” you more so stated than asked in realization.

“Yes! He broke the most sacred rule, Y/N. Pogues don’t lie to other Pogues!” she shouted. You understood that she was more concerned with their friendgroup, but your mind traveled elsewhere.

You remembered seeing Topper arrive at the club shortly before you went on break. He met up with Kelce and Rafe to golf for the day. You needed to talk to him - make sure he was okay. He was supposed to be your sworn enemy by most standards, but you hated that damn rivalry. You didn’t understand why you all just couldn’t get along.

“I’ll deal with John B later,” you reassured the raging girl on the other end of the phone. Being one year older than them all, you’d been made honorary ‘mom friend’ of the group. You typically handled drama amongst the teenagers. “I gotta go, Kie. I’ll call you when I get off.”

Kiara bid you goodbye and you quickly hung up. You stood from the table and tossed the rest of your salad in the trash; it wasn’t that great anyway. You exited the break room and made your way to the dining area of the club. It was fairly empty, only a few tables occupied by club members. You spotted the back of a frosted tipped head at the bar and made your way over to him.

Topper was getting a few beers for him and the guys before they headed out on the course for the day. No one ID’d him, of course. The members of the club paid enough money to oversee this type of thing. Everyone just looked the other way.

“Hey, Topper, can I talk to you?” you asked as you came to his side.

He glanced at you with a furrowed brow and scoffed, turing back to the bartender, “Do I have a choice?”

You ignored the question and way he tried to brush you off. You shifted your weight on your feet and said, “I heard about Sarah. I just wanted to say I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

Topper froze completely in his spot. He knew word was going to get around eventually, it was inevitable and obvious. Though, he wasn’t expecting you to walk right up to him and say something about it - putting salt in an open wound. He slowly turned to look at you with a stone cold expression on his face.

“Why would you ask me that?” he practically growled, handing shooting out and gripping harshly onto your upper arm. “Did you come over here to gloat? Make fun of me? Rub it in my face that your little friend’s been hoeing around with my girl?”

“No I-” you winced as Topper squeezed your arm harder, “Topper you’re hurting me.”

The tall Kook released your arm, realization crossing his face but it was quickly replaced with a scowl again. The bartender put the beers on the bar and he practically threw the cash across the bar at him. He grabbed the beverages and turned to you again.

“I have your job in the palm of my hand, Y/N, don’t ever talk to me about that again,” Topper spat before walking away.

You had a frown etched into your features as you watched the blonde go. Your hand massaged the spot he’d grabbed subconsciously. When he was out of sight you dropped your hand to your side and sulked back to the break room. You were going to spend the fifteen minutes left of your break wishing you’d just kept your mouth shut.

•

The next time you saw Topper was at a Boneyard kegger. You hadn’t seen him at the club since that day. You hoped you never did. You desperately needed that job to keep you and your mom on your feet. You’d never be able to find another job that paid that well, especially if your boss spread word that you messed with the Thornton boy.

You made your way towards the kegs for a refill when a group of guys turned with freshly filled cups. You’d had your eyes cast downward on your feet as you tried not to trip in the sand. You nearly ran into someone’s chest when you looked up into the face of the boy you were trying to avoid.

“T-Topper,” you stuttered, taking a step back when you realized how close you were. “Sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Clearly,” Rafe snickered to your left, sauntering off with Kelce somewhere. Probably to find their next innocent and oblivious hookup to add to the notch on their belts.

You ignored the self proclaimed ‘Kook King’ and stared up at Topper. His jaw was set as he stared down at you. His eyes were swimming with something you couldn’t pin point. Regret? Guilt, maybe?

“You come over here to try and get me to talk about my feelings again?” he mumbled, raising the cup to his lips to take a large drink.

“No.. I just- Look Top, I’m sorry.”

Topper scoffed and rolled his eyes. His shoulder bumped yours as he walked past, but not before adding, “Stay the hell away from me.”

Pope, who’d been at the kegs handing out beers, came to your side immediately upon seeing you frown. The two of you watched the boy make his way to his friends and other Kooks.

“You okay?” the dark skinned boy asked, now looking down at you.

“Yeah.. Yeah, I’m fine,” you forced a smile to your lips and handed your empty cup over to be filled.

Unbeknownst to you, Topper watched you all night. He didn’t understand why you cared. He didn’t understand how you could still be so nice to him with the way him and his friends treated you and your friends. It was frustrating, really, this feeling in his chest that was pulling him towards you. Something about the way you looked at him, the way you were soft spoken but strong willed at the same time. He couldn’t shake this feeling of wanting to let you in.

•

It was a gorgeous morning. The sun had just completely revealed itself from the horizon, not a cloud in the sky. The waves were especially good. That’s how you found yourself down at the beach on Figure Eight. Their beaches weren’t as crowded since, let’s face it, the Kooks didn’t give a damn about surfing. You had a whole mile stretch to yourself. The only people you saw were a few joggers and dog walkers.

Your surf board glided through the waves effortlessly. You practiced some of the tricks JJ had been teaching you, nearly losing balance a handful of times. One wave took you by surprise and you tumbled through the water. You came up for air, choking on sea water, lungs burning. You could feel your muscles screaming at you despite the saltwater making your body feel exceptionally light.

You climbed back up onto your board, wiping your eyes and try and rid them of the burning sensation. You blinked away the mix of tears and seawater, looking towards the beach when you saw a familiar frosted tipped head. He stood shirtless, arms by his sides as he stared at you - a small smile on his lips that you couldn’t see from so far away.

As you slid onto your stomach and began paddling back to shore, you were half expecting Topper to leave. You were surprised when he didn’t, instead walking closer to you as the waves crashed around your legs when you stood.

“Didn’t know you were so good at that,” it was a half-assed compliment, but you still smiled.

“You wouldn’t know, it’s a Pogue sport,” you teased breathlessly.

Topper rolled his eyes, this time playfully as a smile again tugged at his lips. He watched as you stuck your board in the sand and undid the ankle strap. You sat down to take some relief off your aching legs and leant back against your palms.

“What’re you doing on this side of town?” he asked as he came down to sit beside you, keeping a good amount of distance between the two of you.

“The beach is less crowded over here. It’s easier to surf without worrying about getting run over by someone else,” you replied, looking over at the dirty blonde.

Topper’s skin was glistening with sweat and his muscles looked taught - not that you were paying attention. You figured he’d been on a run before stopping to talk to you. Only God knows why after the way he’d been treating you.

“You know, I didn’t mean the things I said to you,” his voice was softer now. His blue eyes met yours for a moment before he was looking back out at the water. “I guess.. I was just so angry at Sarah and John B. You’re his friend so I took my anger out on you.”

“Apology accepted,” you replied with a smile, even though he hadn’t outright said he was sorry. Topper’s gaze locked on yours and a genuine smile crossed his lips.

The two of you sat on the beach for hours, time slipping away from you as you talked. He opened up to you about Sarah and how heartbroken he was. He told you how his attachment to her was unhealthy and he wasn’t even sure if he was truly happy with her. He told you how he’s just ready to move on and figure out what real love is.

He opened up about his mom and how she expected so much from him. You realized the boy boy had a lot of pressure on him. He was going through more than a lot of people knew about, even his own friends. But you noticed how he sat up straighter and seemed more relaxed the more he talked. He was smiling and laughing with you, something you never thought you’d be able to say. You saw a twinkle in his eye that hadn’t been there before and it made your heart swell.

•

You and Topper had been hanging out quite regularly. He’d meet up with you after you got off work and you’d grab lunch or take a walk on the beach if it was late. You’d take long drives on your days off, windows down with music playing softly as you talked about everything - or nothing at all. He’d even helped your mom fix her car when it broke down on her way to work. It surprised you that he even knew anything about cars, thinking he just threw money at someone to fix whatever problem he had.

The Pogues didn’t know about your newfound friendship with the Kook. They assumed you were busy with work and your mom. Occasionally you had to pick up some extra shifts so your absence was nothing new to them.

The Kooks heard you’d been hanging around with Topper but no one had really seen it with their own eyes. They were whispers of gossip in the dark started by older folks seeing the two of you at the club or on the beach. Rafe had tried to ask his best friend about it but was brushed off as if he didn’t know what he was talking about.

When you showed up at the Boneyard for - yes, another party - with the blue eyed boy, everyone’s attention was on you. You were linked arm in arm as you treaded the sand down to the crowd of people. The whispers and quiet murmurs started. It was eerily quiet - those parties were never quiet.

The Pogues were by the kegs, staring wide eyed and mouth opened at the two of you. You could practically feel the uncomfort coming from John B and Sarah. If looks could kill, Rafe would have killed you both, Kelce stood beside him with his eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

“Well this couldn’t be any more awkward,” Topper muttered, trying to stifle a laugh.

“It was your idea to come together,” you whispered back, glancing over at your friends, “They’re looking at me like I just killed their puppy.”

The two of you erupted into a fit of giggles, making your way to the kegs. Pope filled up a cup and hesitated as he handed it over to Topper. You kept the smile on your face as you looked between the Pogues. You took the next cup and took a sip as the tall boy unlinked his arm from yours.

“I’m gonna go talk to Rafe before he has an aneurysm,” he muttered in your ear, hand lingering on your lower back.

You hummed in response and nodded, watching him walk over to the Kooks before you turned back to your friends. Still, they were staring at you. Mixed looks of surprise, disapproval and betrayal.

“What the hell was that?” JJ was the first to open his mouth.

You shrugged a bit and smiled around the rim of your cup as you took another sip of the bitter liquid.

Kiara sat herself on one of the kegs and added, “Dont play coy with us, Y/L/N. What’s going on?”

“We’re just hanging out! It’s not a big deal,” you exasperated, free hand slapping against your thigh after you threw it up.

“You’re fucking Topper now?” John B asked, standing behind JJ with a disgusted look on his face. “That’s why you’ve been so MIA lately?”

You turned to the curly haired brunette and raised an eyebrow. A sarcastic smile painted itself across your lips and you tilted your head. “I don’t think you have much room to talk, do you? We’re not fucking. Don’t be an asshole,” you retorted.

A silence fell over your group, an uncomfortable one. You weren’t one to talk to friends in such a way but they’d backed you into a corner. They were trying to interrogate you, but John B was also running around with a Kook and even helped her cheat. You weren’t going to let them judge your choices when they weren’t much better.

As soon as Topper walked up to his friends, Rafe couldn’t help the words flying from his mouth, “So you hang out with Pogues now?”

The shorter male scoffed and shook his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He brought the cup he was holding up to his lips to keep himself from spewing a harsh remark in return.

“I mean, if you’re just fucking her, it’s cool bro, do what you want. But you two sure did seem coupled up. You don’t want some Pogue slut ruining your reputation, Top-”

“Don’t talk about her like that, man,” Topper snapped, staring his friend in the eye. Rafe raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. Kelce stood awkwardly to the side, not wanting to include himself or pick sides between his friends.

“She’s not a slut and she’s not just some Pogue,” Topper continued to defend you, turning to look over his shoulder at you. He could tell your discussion with the Pogues was heated by the way you were talking with your hand and the clench of your jaw. “She’s a cool girl. She takes care of her shit and doesn’t let people’s opinions of her, change how she carries herself. Maybe if you actually got to know her instead of judging where she came from, you’d see that too,” he continued, looking at Rafe again.

The brunette Kook held his hands up defensively and muttered something like okay man, whatever. Topper turned to look at you once more, catching your gaze. You sent him a small smile and a single nod. He did the same. Despite how your friend’s felt from both sides, the two of you didn’t care. You were like two magnets being drawn together, a feeling neither of you had ever experienced before.

•

Your shift had just ended and walked out the doors to see the familiar Jeep parked out by the curb. You smiled and walked over, pulling the passenger side door open and climbing into the vehicle. Your hair had started to fall out of the ponytail you were wearing and you probably smelt of all the food you’d been handling all day. You rubbed a hand over your face tiredly and leant back in the seat.

Topper sat in the driver’s seat, taking a moment to stare at you before driving away. He had a small smile on his face when your eyes met. You let out a soft laugh and covered your face with your hand, mumbling, “What?”

The Kook shook his head, feeling his cheeks heat up at being caught. He bit the inside of his bottom lip as he pulled the car away from the curb and started driving. You turned to look out the window and noticed he was taking you farther into Figure Eight instead of the usual way to your house.

“Where are we going?” you asked and turned to look at him again. The sun was setting and casting a beautiful glow over Topper’s face. His tan skin being illuminated by the orange light made his eyes impossibly bluer.

“My mom’s on the mainland for work so I figured we could hang at my place,” he responded, glancing over at you. “If that’s okay! I didn’t even ask.”

You hummed and nodded, eyes drifting back out to the houses flying by. You’d only been to Topper’s house one other time since you’d started hanging out. You knew what it looked like though. The Pogues liked to crash house parties often and his had been one of them many times.

You arrived at the large house fairly quickly and Topper let you inside. You kicked off your work shoes by the door and followed him up the staircase. He opened his bedroom door and walked in ahead of you, quickly picking up some of his discarded clothes and tossing them in his hamper in the corner. The room was very minimalistic and tidy, probably his mother’s doing.

You walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of the sea foam green colored duvet. He wiped the palms of his hands on his shorts and turned to you. Your hands were clasped together in your lap as your eyes traveled around the room. You looked so tiny compared to the large mattress and he could tell you were a bit uncomfortable - not wanting to dirty his space.

“You can take a shower. I know you probably want to,” Topper suggested, walking across the room and opening the door to his attached bathroom.

“Oh I- uh, I don’t have any clothes.”

Topper waved his hand in dismissal and opened up the bottom drawer of his dresser. He pulled out a pair of old basket shorts and a t-shirt. He put them on the counter in the bathroom and turned to you with a raised brow.

“I guess I don’t have an excuse now, huh?” you chuckled and stood up, entering the large bathroom.

“If you need anything just gimme me a shout,” he told you with a smile before stepping out of the bathroom and shutting the door.

You turned on the shower and got it to the right temperature, taking off your clothes and slipping under the stream of water. You let out a content sigh and basked in the warmth for a minute. The water pressure was so much better than what you got on the South side.

You quickly washed your hair with some of his shampoo and shockingly, conditioner. Most boys wouldn’t have that product. His body wash was sandlewood scented and you used your hands to clean your sweaty skin. You took an extra minute to make sure you were rinsed completely before turning off the water.

You grabbed a towel and thoroughly dried your body before stepping out and slipping on Topper’s shorts. They were big on you but thankfully didn’t fall off your hips. You slipped his shirt over your head and smiled softly as his scent swirled around you. You skipped out on undergarments - considering you didn’t have fresh ones, but you were comfortable enough around the Thornton boy to go without.

You opened the door while towel drying your hair and found Topper sat against his headboard. He’d changed into a pair of grey sweatpants and one of his old Kook Academy t-shirts. He was scrolling through Netflix, trying to find a good movie to put on when his eyes traveled to you. His breath hitched at the sight of you in his clothes, wet hair dampening the maroon colored material.

It’s as if his eyes were glued to your body, frozen on the bed with the remote clasped tightly in his hands. You tossed the towel into Topper’s hamper and made your way to the bed. His gaze was still on you as you stopped at the end and you chuckled.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you teased, climbing up onto the bed and crawling towards the pillows.

“Don’t tempt me.”

You were still on your hands and knees when you looked to the tan boy. He was staring back at you with an unreadable expression. His eyes were a darker, stormy blue. His eyes flickered between yours as he had an internal battle with himself. They drifted to your lips as you pulled your bottom one between your teeth.

“Can I kiss you?” Topper’s voice was softer now, eyes meeting yours once again.

“I thought you’d never ask,” you replied through a grin and shuffled closer to him.

The Kook’s hands dropped the remote, one finding the back of your neck and the other meeting your waist. Your lips met awkwardly at first, noses bumping. You pulled back with a soft laugh and tilted your head, leaning in slowly this time. The kiss was soft and tentative. Your lips moved together in synchronized motions.

Topper’s hands pulled you closer until you were sitting on his lap. The room was heating up by the second as your hands roamed the toned planes of his chest over his shirt. You tongue swiped at his lips while tilting your head to deepen the kiss. His large hands wrapped around your hips before sliding up and feeling at your waist.

You hadn’t realized you’d started to grind down against the Thornton boy until you shifted and made contact with his half hard cock. He gasped into your mouth and pulled away from your lips. His pupils were blown wide and his cheeks were pink. You looked something similar, lips swollen from the pressure of his against yours. He had grabbed onto your hips tightly and held them while his chest moved with his soft pants.

“Y/N..” Topper hesitated. He didn’t want you to feel like this is all he wanted. The two of you had spent so much time together, he felt so stupid to shut the idea of being with you down all those times just because you were a Pogue. You knew him better than his own mother at this point. You helped him get over Sarah and learn to love himself again - and in turn, start to fall in love with you. He didn’t want you to feel like his rebound or a fling. He wanted you; all of you.

Your read Topper’s thoughts through his eyes, feeling your heart swell. Your hands came up to cup his cheeks and bent down to press a sweet kiss to his lips. Your mouth trailed down his jaw until your soft breath was at his ear, making a shiver run down his spine.

“I want you, Topper,” you whispered, a hint of desperation laced in your tone.

The sound of you saying those words alone had his cock fully erect. A low growl sounded in his chest when you ground your hips against him once again. He flipped the two of you, your head nestled in the pillows as he hovered over you. Your legs were bent at the knees at both sides of his hips and his pressed his length against your clothed heat. You mewled at the touch, fingers sliding into the frosted tips of his hair.

He dipped his head and attached his lips to your neck, sucking dark marks into your delicate skin. Your head tilted to him better access fingers tugging as his soft locks as he found your sweet spot. Topper groaned softly, one hand sliding under your - his - shirt. His thumb and pointer finger rolled your perked nipple, causing your back to arch.

“Stop teasing,” you whined as he lifted his head and smirked down at you.

“Patience, babygirl,” Topper muttered, pushing himself up onto his knees. He pulled his shirt off your body and hummed as he took in the sight of your exposed chest.

The obvious tent in sweatpants made your mouth water. You reached down and wrapped your hand around his clothed cock, palming him through the garnments. He let out a strangled groan as he twitched in your hand. He quickly ripped off his own shirt, giving you a chance to admire his muscular body as he worked on getting your shorts off.

Topper couldn’t hold back anymore. He’d been longing for this moment since he realized his feelings for Sarah had diminished. You’d been waiting for this moment since he apologized at the club. You’d always found him attractive and as the two of you got closer, your feelings for him only intensified.

“You’re already wet and I’ve barely started,” he breathed as he spread your legs open for him and admired your glistening pussy.

You bit your lip and tried to get Topper’s sweatpants down his legs but from your angle, it was almost impossible. You huffed in frustration and laid back against the pillows.

“Topper, I’ve been waiting for this for too long. Please, take your pants off and fuck me already.”

The Kook didn’t argue. He wanted nothing more than to lay down and devoure you of everything you had; make you cum repeatedly on his tongue. But with the way you were practically begging for his cock and dripping arousal on his duvet, he couldn’t wait to fuck you into next week.

He pushed his sweatpants and boxers down far enough for his cock to spring free, not even bothering to take them off completely. He hooked one of your legs over his forearm and tapped the head of his length against your clit then dragged it through your folds to your entrance. The corners of his lips twitched up as your juices coated him. He guided himself inside of you slowly then put that hand on your hip.

A soft moan left your lips as Topper filled you up, sighing in relief when he bottom out and held your hips as close to him as he could. He had his jaw clenched, eyelids fluttering as your walls hugged him perfectly.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned softly as he began thrusting slowly. He’d pull back until the head of his cock was the only thing inside of you, then press the whole length of himself back into you.

You whimpered in response, displeased with his slow pace. Your hands traveled up the expanse of his abs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When you reached his pecks you dragged your nails back down.

“Fuck me like you mean it, Top, please. I need more,” you begged the gorgeous boy above you.

His eyes left where the two of your bodies met and locked on yours. They were cloudy with arousal and a smirk spread across his lips, replying, “As you wish, princess.”

Topper’s hips snapped forward as he started fucking you faster. The sound of skin slapping on skin filled the room as well as your moans. The grip he had on your hip was bruising tight and his cock was brushing your g-spot with every thrust. He grunted as he moved your leg and put your ankle over his shoulder, bearing his weight on his free hand.

You brought your other leg around his hip, crying out as he started pounding against your g-spot now. The coil in your stomach was winding up fast. Topper felt your pussy clenching around him and he moaned.

“Gonna cum on my cock already, baby?” he asked, bringing his hand off of your hip to rub quick circles against your clit with his thumb. He watched your eyes roll back, mouth falling open as pornographic, sinful moans escaped you. “That’s it, cum for me, Y/N.”

Your legs shook as the euphoric orgasm wracked your body. Topper slowed his thrusts as you road out your high bending down and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You whined and arched into his mouth, nails scratching at his shoulder blades.

He pulled out suddenly, leaving your body cold and empty. You opened your eyes to see him shimmying out of his sweatpants and boxers. He was lazily stroking himself with one and the other grabbed your leg to turn you over.

“Hands and knees, babygirl,” he demanded, pulling your hips up once you were on your stomach.

You had barely gotten your knees situated before he was plunging his length back inside of you. You propped yourself on your elbows and gasped as he set a brutal pace, one hand pressing into your lower back on the spine. Watching your ass bounce with each of his thrusts had Topper in a daze. He couldn’t take his eyes off of your bottom half and his other hand came down on one of your asscheeks roughly, causing him to groan as he watched it shake.

At this angle you could feel him so much deeper than before. All of your senses were on overdrive after your first orgasm, now he was slamming against your g-spot at an ungodly pace. Your second orgasm was approaching faster and faster and you couldn’t stop your pussy from clenching right around him.

“Yes, fuck yes! Right there, Topper, don’t stop!” you moaned out, the side of your face pressed into the bed and muffling your voice slightly.

The Kook let out an animalistic moan, hands gripping tightly to your hips as he pulled you back to meet his thrusts. They were getting sloppy, but he tried to keep his pace the same, letting his head fall back as he felt his own release approaching.

“F-Fuck,” Topper groaned, squeezing onto your hips, “I’m gonna fill up this tight pussy, baby. Shit, I’m cumming.”

The two of you released almost at the same time, you reaching your second high just before him. A cry of his name left your lips as your juices coated his swelling cock. His hips stuttered as thick ropes of his cum filled you up. He slowed down, using your tight walls to milk himself as he chanted your name like a mantra.

You fell limp on the bed, causing Topper’s softening cock to slip out of you. He watched his cum slowly drip out of you, making a mess onto your abused cunt and his bed. He got up from the bed and went to his bathroom to grab a washcloth. He came back and gently cleaned you up then himself.

The Thornton boy helped maneuver you under his sheets, smiling at the dazed look in your eyes. He stripped the comforter off his bed and made a mental note to wash it in the morning before climbing under the sheets beside you.

He pulled you into his side and wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head when you rested it on his chest. He brushed your hair off your shoulder and let his fingertips trace gentle patterns onto your bare skin. The silence didn’t bother either of you - just content being in each other’s embrace.

“Hey, Top?” you muttered sleepily into the golden skin of his chest. He hummed in response and you continued, “I really like you.”

Topper couldn’t hold back the grin that invaded his face, throwing his head back for a second in joy.

“Hey, Y/N?” he copied you, waiting for you to hum in response before he tilted your chin up. He planted a loving kiss against your lips then the tip of your nose and whispered, “I really like you too.”

tagging my ✨rafe sluts +1 topper slut✨: @letsgofullkook​ @sortagaysortahigh​ @queenk00k​ @jjmbanks​ @ims0golden​ @jjsmentalpolaroids​ @jjmaybcnks​

[thewritewolf]

Running to Catch An Airplane Trope

Adrien has lost just about everything now that his father has been unmasked as Hawkmoth. But he isn't about to lose her too. 

Enjoy!

Read on Ao3

Adrien watched as Nino walked up to the podium and took his diploma, to general applause and the loud cheers of his family.

His hand tightened around his own diploma. There hadn’t been much of either when Adrien walked up, the first name called.

Barely any applause. Mostly just whispers. Some worried. Some… accusing. He supposed he couldn’t blame them, after everything that had happened still so fresh in the mind of the public.

There weren’t any loud cheers from his family. Mostly because there wasn’t much of one left anyway. He’d known for years that his father would never attend something as plebeian as a high school graduation, but…

Adrien hadn’t thought it would be like this. He’d had no clue at all about any of it.

It had taken all five of them - Ladybug, Chat Noir, Carapace, Rena Rouge, even Queen Bee - but they’d finally done it. Hawkmoth and Mayura, unmasked for all the world to see. No going back, no sneaky tricks to get away from it.

The only cost? Adrien’s family. His father and Nathalie, jailed. His mother, gone for a second time. His home, leveled in the pitched battle that followed. All his life except for his heartbeat is what it took to bring Hawkmoth to justice.

His teammates still didn’t know why he’d left so quickly afterwards, how he’d immediately detransformed and broken down. For most of them, they would never know. After all, no need for the secondary heroes now that the terrible Hawkmoth had been unmasked. Paris would rest easy under Ladybug and Chat Noir’s watch.

There is more clapping and Adrien mechanically joins in, only to be startled when everyone begins standing up around him. The ceremony is over, just like his days of childhood. His classmates are chatting excitedly amongst each other as they head across the street. It takes him a moment to gather the strength to stand up, but when he does, he is surrounded by his real friends.

Nino. Alya. And…

“How are you feeling?” Marinette asked softly.

This was the worst part. It was their graduation! Everyone should be happy and celebrating and here he was, dragging down the mood with his own misery. Just like always. It wasn’t fair to them, not in the least. Swallowing his emotions, he offered a strained smile.

“I’m doing better,” he lied.

Marinette didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t say anything. Nino threw his arm around Adrien’s shoulder and they all followed after the rest of their class. For a moment, the prospect of having Dupain-Cheng pastries was almost enough to make Adrien forget it all. It was a good choice of venue for them - what better place to end their time together than the site of so many of their happiest memories?

Adrien was just about to sink his teeth into a passion fruit macaron when he started listening into what his former classmates were saying.

“-Going to school for botany, so I can open my own flower shop!” Rose said, giving Juleka a hug out of excitement.

Adrien shoved the macaron in his mouth and walked toward another part of the shop to find another. There, he overheard what Alix was saying.

“Yeah I got a plan to skate with the best in my new university. Gonna try to keep the family tradition of historians alive since clearly big bro ain’t up to it with all his conspiracy stuff. But that doesn't mean I gotta be a stick in the mud about it.”

Eventually, Adrien found a place in a corner, a good ways away from the rest of his friends. Some of them cast glances his way, but no one made a move to talk to him. What could they say anyway? ‘Sorry your dad was the magic terrorist that turned every single one of us into super villains at one point or another?’

And he certainly wasn’t about to approach them either. Not if they were going to be talking about the future. They all sounded so hopeful and excited, he didn’t want to bring them down with his uncertainty.

Having his entire life charted out in meticulous, color-coded detail, he wasn’t very confident in his own planning abilities. Even in his superhero career he was more often than not following someone else’s plan. What was he going to do with his life now, when even his superheroics weren’t necessary?

The party was still going on when Adrien sneaked out. He was sure nobody would miss him from there. No doubt the mood might even lighten once he was gone. Nino and Marinette would at least have a better time now that he wasn’t bringing everything down.

The only good thing he could say about his father now was that at least he’d actually paid Adrien for his modeling. Even if Adrien only recently got access to that bank account, it meant that he could afford a house to rent now that his childhood home was cinders.

Turning the lights on as he entered, he shuffled over to the television and hesitated. He used to like turning it on to have some background noise, but it was hard to escape the news about his family these days. Backing away from the TV, he opted instead to turn on a music playlist.

Adrien collapsed onto the couch, the weight of his loneliness bearing down on him now more than ever. Maybe he could have handled everything else, but on top of all of it, the defeat of Hawkmoth meant that Ladybug had basically gone off the grid. No akuma battles, no late night patrols.

His mind wandered - Where was Ladybug? What she was doing?

--------------

Long after the party had died down, Marinette went up to her room and pulled out a letter that she had hidden away months ago. It almost felt like another lifetime when she had sent out that application. She had sent it not because she had intended to go but because it was something she was expected to do.

Someone like her, with her hopes and dreams worn on her sleeve since she was twelve, didn’t just ‘forget’ to send out her university applications. It would’ve looked suspicious. So she sent the letters, knowing in her heart that she would never be able to leave Paris because walking away from it would mean leaving it defenseless.

But now the danger was gone. She didn’t need to protect her beloved city anymore.

Holding the acceptance letter to a semester long fashion internship in Milan, her heart pounded in excitement. After so long, she could finally start living her life again.

--------------------

There weren’t a lot of people left in Adrien’s life.

He’d never been super close to most of his classmates, so that wasn’t a huge loss to him. But the retiring of most of the super hero team, plus Nino, Alya, and Marinette being super busy these days did cut deep.

But, as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop as Chat Noir, he reflected that at least he had Ladybug. Getting a call from her out of the blue was surprising, but he jumped at the chance to see her again after the maddening quiet of the last couple months.

A part of him was worried, however. Why did she want to see him? Ladybug didn’t do anything without good reason. And what good reasons were there left for them in a post-Hawkmoth world? Did she want his miraculous…? His hand brushed over his ring. No, she would never. She knew how much being Chat Noir meant to him. Besides, if she wanted to disband all of them, she would’ve taken his ring along with the other miraculous.

Heart pounding for more reasons than one, Chat Noir landed on their favorite meeting spot in one of the towers of Notre Dame. As he spots her iconic red and black outfit, he pushes aside his worries. Everything else aside, Ladybug was here - that alone was a huge load of his shoulders.

She turns around at the sound of his boots landing on the ground.

“Just the cat I was waiting on,” she said with a smile.

“I hope I didn’t keep such a beautiful woman waiting for long,” Chat replied, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to it. “What’s up, bugaboo?”

“I’ll get right to the point, chaton.” Ladybug took a deep breath. “I’m going to be going away for a few months. I got an internship in Milan. I’ll be leaving next week.”

His heart dropped and he took both of her hands in his. Eyes locked onto their interlocked hands, he murmured, “Lovebug, I’m not sure I’ll be able to make it that long…”

She freed one hand to cup his chin, pushing it up until they were looking eye to eye. There was a soft but sad smile on her face.

“I know its a whole new world for us, and I’m sure its been rough for you. So I’ll make you a promise-”

“A purromise?” He punned half-heartedly.

“...sure, a purromise,” she replied. “The first time I see you after I get back, chaton, we'll blow this whole thing wide open.”

He frowned. She couldn’t mean…?

“We'll reveal our identities, I swear." To prove her sincerity, she held out her pinky.

“But… why can’t we do that now?”

"To give you something to look forward to, of course," she said with a smile. “So what do you say?”

Staring at her pinky for a long time, he eventually grabbed it with his own pinky. The promise had been made.

They chatted for a little while after that, but eventually Ladybug had to leave. People would notice she was missing if she was gone for too long.

Chat watched her leave, turning into a dot on the horizon. After all, who was going to notice, even if he was out for an hour more?

-------------

The days run by, lost in a blur of video games and books and other distractions that kept him in his room. There was no Nathalie to force him into his usual activities. No father to breathe down his neck. Just him slowly losing track of time as the days ticked past, unnoticed by Adrien. He didn’t even realize it was the day that Ladybug had said she was going to be leaving for Milan until his phone lit up for the first time in days.

It was Nino, of course. He was practically the only one calling him these days, except for the group chats that he was in. And even then, the last few calls had been a bit of a blur, running on autopilot like he was.

Adrien answers the phone. “Hey, bro, what’s up?”

“More like - what’s out? And the answer is me. I’m outside. Open the door, my bro.”

Nino hung up, leaving Adrien to blink in the darkness of his living room, illuminated only by the light of his paused game. Standing up, he rushed over to the door and opened it a crack. Sure enough, Nino was standing there.

“‘Sup dude?” He pushed open the door, letting the sunlight filter into Adrien’s house for the first time in days. Nino scrunched up his eyebrows in concern. “T-shirt and sweatpants this late in the day, my dude? You feelin’ alright?”

“Same as usual, I guess,” Adrien said with a shrug. “What’s the occasion?”

Nino let himself in and pulled open Adrien’s curtains. “Don’t really need one to hang with my best bro, do I?” He saw Adrien’s face. “Okay, okay, so I needed some time outta the house. Can you blame me? With everything going down with Marinette, I could use some space away from that bummer fest to take my mind off things.”

“Things going down with Marinette?” Adrien asked. Did something happen?

“Yeah man, Alya was a wreck last night. We helped Marinette pack up and honestly, watching those two say goodbye just about made me tear up." Nino tugged at his cap, getting ragged from the years.

Adrien takes a moment to shake off the gray stupor that's been hanging over him for months, that had been doubled because of Ladybug’s absence.

“Uh... what? Is Marinette going somewhere?” That is someone he should make more effort to keep in touch with, if he's being honest with himself. Maybe once she comes back from her vacation or whatever, they can get coffee.

"Dude, you never listen to anything I say anymore,” Nino said, clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes disapprovingly. “I know it's tough with your dad and all, dude, but you've got to get out of your own head. Marinette's leaving."

"What? Leaving? Like, leaving leaving?"

"Might as well be, dude. She's getting on a plane this afternoon and not coming back for 6 months." Adrien got stuck by deja vu. Something about that time frame sounds familiar... "She wanted me to tell you she'll miss you while she's gone."

"I... can't believe I didn't say goodbye. Where is she going? Why is she going?" He’s more alert than he has been for months. He took a seat next to Nino, leaning forward a little as he hung on Nino’s words.

"A sweet fashion internship dude. Way over in Milan."

And it clicks. Internship. Milan. The whole semester. There’s no way… it can’t be a coincidence.

If Adrien is wrong, he doesn't lose anything. He'll see his lady and his friend when they both return. But if he's right - and he's got to be right! - then she's gone. She's gone and he won't get to say goodbye, to tell her that he loves her, that he's always loved her.

Nino's still chatting away in the background, "...and to be honest, I'm surprised she didn't come see you before she left. Alya said she wanted to clear the air about that massive crush she had on you in high school-"

"I'm sorry WHAT?" Adrien tries and fails to keep his voice level.

Nino raises his eyebrows. "Dude, I thought you knew by now.” He shakes his head. “Everybody knew."

That raises far too many questions for Adrien’s liking, but he is too focused to be sidetracked now. He leans into Nino’s space, clarity in his eyes for the first time in a long time, one question on his mind.

"When does her plane leave?"

"What? Like in, an hour or so, dude.” Nino’s eyes widened as he realizes what Adrien might be planning. “But there's no way-"

"-igottagoniceseeingyouninobye!"

Adrien throws on a pair of converse sneakers, tongues sticking out in his haste out the door, untied laces flying. Nino is shouting something behind him, but Adrien doesn’t have the time to listen. Once he was out of his friend’s line of sight, he transformed and ran. He runs faster than he ever had in his entire life, his rooftop blurring under his feet as they carried him across the city.

He can't believe it took all this for him to figure it out. At this point, he doesn't care that she might reject him. The only thing that matters is that he has to know for sure. Nothing was more important to him in this moment than to look in those bluebell eyes and tell her he's figured it out. Figured her out.

He can't have her disappear for six months and forget about him. About what they could be.

Getting to the airport took longer than expected. Getting across the whole of Paris wasn’t easy, but he did it. Even if he had to stop way outside his destination to detransform. Nothing was about to stop him. Not even his own body, wheezing and protesting the sudden activity after a summer of slacking could slow him down. There was something more powerful than muscle and sinew at work here.

The airport was busy and Adrien froze at the front door, catching more than a few odd looks from people. He didn’t have any time to spare for them, however. His eyes, his heart, were too busy frantically searching the crowd for just the barest sign of her. Despair that he was too late had begun to lace its tendrils around his heart when the crowd parted for a split second.

He saw her.

Not just Marinette, in a cute floral summer dress, hair tied back and lugging her bags behind her.

No. In that half of a moment, he saw Ladybug and Marinette as one. The strength behind her eyes, the determined squaring of her shoulders even though he knew she was scared. If he had any doubts before, they were gone like mist before the sun. He was only barely aware of himself bolting towards her, parting the crowd in front of him to a tune of a host of disgruntled French travelers.

His hand snags her wrist just before she reaches the security checkpoint. She turns, part of surprise, part out of curiosity. Her eyes widen when she sees him, but he doesn’t have the chance to savor it. He’s already pulled her into a hug, pouring all the love he’s bottled up inside himself into it.

Hand cradling her head, his mouth close to her ear, he can barely manage to pant out a few words, the exhaustion of pressing himself so hard so fast finally catching up with him.

"M'lady.... princess....found you..."

In a voice so quiet only his senses, made keen by years of using the black cat miraculous, can make out, she whispered, “...Chaton?”

He grins, gasping, and nods. Her eyes tear up and she hugs him back twice as hard. "How did you know?"

"Internship in Milan. Had to say goodbye. Had to tell you...Mari, I love you."

She's stunned for a moment, and pulls back to look him in the face. Matching her gaze, he feels himself falling inescapably into those bright blue eyes. He never thought he could fall even more in love, but today seemed to be the day for revelations. The moment broke only when she rolled forward on her tiptoes, placed her arms around his neck for leverage, and pressed her lips to his.

Time began again when a booming voice called out a flight number overhead. Marinette, kiss-drunk, pulled back and bit her lip, making Adrien’s heart do a backflip.

“That’s mine.” She pouts, then brightens and smirks, "You know, I hear Milan is lovely this time of year. You should come visit me sometime, Mr. Moneybags."

-------------------

Two months later

Adrien rose with the sun, one of the few habits from his teenage years he’d never managed to shake off. Marinette was a few rooms over, taking the guest bedroom of his Italian villa while they lived in Milan. He started to make breakfast.

It wasn’t a miraculous cure - their relationship, her being here with him. His life was still in shambles. There were moments where he couldn’t be strong. He still felt lost most of the time.

But she was a constant. He could build a life around her - together. She was there when he needed to be weak. And her steady determination that he’d find his way was more often than not enough to ground him.

He put his breakfast on a plate and left Marinette’s on the kitchen counter, knowing the smell would do more to coax her out of bed than any amount of knocking or reminders. In the meantime, he pulled out his laptop to get a head start on his online class work for the day. It was just general requirements, but it gave him time to test the waters, see what he liked and what he didn’t.

No matter what, though, he knew she was going to be there every step of the way, cheering him on just like he knew he would be right there for her. A perfect team, just like they’d always been.

Yesterday was rough. Today would be better. And tomorrow? Adrien smiled as he heard Marinette's morning grumblings down the hall. Tomorrow shone bright with possibilities for both of them.

[remys-lucky-franc]

Kissing Prompt #27 - Queen of Thieves (Remy)

I know everyone else who was doing these has probably finished working on them already - I’m a slow writer I’m afraid - but I get there in the end - and I’ve really loved working on these prompts ☺️ This is the 2nd last one I have on my list (unless I get any more requests!) - this was requested for Remy and it’s # 27: kisses exchanged while one person sits on the other’s lap.

Written from Remy’s POV

Word Count ~ 1400 words

May have gone a litte bit off piste here - it’s not much exchanged as just given really, but I hope you enjoy it anyway 💜

—- [MORE] [[MORE]]

“Come on, Niko, hurry!”

I hiss quietly at my new friend as he slips through the shutter I’ve prised open. I try to be as discrete as I can. I’ve been on the streets for long enough now to know the importance of disappearing into the shadows, of moving quickly. Niko hasn’t mastered this yet: he snags the edge of his expensive-looking sweater on the rough metal frame, curses under his breath in what I’m sure is his native language, and wrestles to free himself while he tries to keep hold of the kitten. I cast one final glance around the alley before I deftly unhook him and slip through the shutter behind him.

He shoots me that haughty look that I’ve become accustomed to in the past few days, “I had it.”

I fix him with a wink and a grin that say, ‘oh, really?’ as I slip past him, through the storage room and into the waiting area of the medical practice. It’s Friday evening and this place won’t reopen until Monday morning’s first surgery - it’s somewhere safe and warm that we can sleep for a couple of nights. It has a small kitchenette where I can throw together some food for us using a few ingredients I pilfered from a grocery store earlier, plus whatever is left over in the staff fridge. But the best part is that there’s a television and a couple of plush waiting room sofas where we can maybe catch a few hours of sleep. Not that either of us sleep much - just enough to sustain us through the next day: never more.

Once I’ve got my bearings, I set to work on our food and discover a pack of cold cuts that will be perfect for Elizabeth. I call out to Nikolai and get no answer. I try again. And again... Uneasy, I grab a kitchen knife and make my way from room to room silently, stealthily, my heart swelling inside my chest. I scan each doorway as I make my way down the hallway until I reach the main consultation room, and find Niko sitting cross-legged amongst a pile of books, utterly absorbed. I swear under my breath, relieved. I drop down to crouch by him, curious, lifting up one thick tomb,

“Principles and Mechanisms of Clinical Toxicology?”

Nikolai barely grunts in response; too engrossed in what he’s reading.

I check the cover of the textbook in his hand. ‘The Basic Science of Poisons’... I swallow: this is definitely not a weird or intense topic for a runaway fifteen year old - not at all... I tilt my head at him, awaiting some sort of explanation. An acknowledgement? Something? Anything? Niko?

When nothing comes, I tut at him and shake my head in irritation. I return to the half-prepared food feeling slightly disconcerted by my new friend’s fascination with toxins and mortality. He’s so guarded: I can’t help but wonder what his secrets are and what exactly it is that he’s running from? Eventually I reason that I have my fair share of skeletons too, so I won’t pry. He might tell me someday, if he really wants to.

Later that evening, after we’ve eaten, chatted and watched some easy movie on the TV in the waiting room, we turn in for the night. It’s early March and despite the bright Parisian sunshine, there’s a definite chill in the air reminding us that summer isn’t with us quite yet. After some rummaging, I’ve found some pillows and rough hospital blankets in the store cupboard to keep the cold out and make us a little more comfortable. I take the smaller of the two sofas, but Nikolai’s spindly, long legs still dangle over the edges of his when he lies down: he looks so cramped and awkward. Still, it’s luxury compared to the exposed rooftop we slept on on top of our jackets for the past two nights. The sickly moonlight provides no comfort. You can see your breath while you shiver beneath it - little wonder neither of us did more than doze for a few minutes, waiting for the rays of the morning sun to return and restore some warmth and life to us. It sounds so romantic and fanciful, a life of adventure on the streets - going where you like, doing what you want, no parents to answer to - but it’s not. It’s hard on the streets: harder than I imagined it could ever be. But by now, I’m used to it. Niko isn’t yet, so I’ll look out for him.

I’m not sure how much later it is that I’m yanked from sleep by the sound of anguished screams. On my feet in seconds, heart racing, I’m half-dazed and scrambling to find Nikolai’s attacker. I whirl around in the darkness again and again and again, scanning, searching... Until I realise. There’s no one else here. Only me, a frightened kitten and the pale, dark-haired boy asleep on the sofa, thrashing and wailing in a tongue that I can’t understand. Instinctively I kneel by the sofa and lay the back of my hand against his forehead as he flinches away from my touch; he’s stone-cold and drenched in sweat. I speak his name, quietly at first, trying to lure him back from whatever horror grips him behind those blue eyes, then louder, and louder. My hands grip his arms as I gently try to shake him out of it, but it’s no use! He twists and pulls against me, gasps and shouts. As I finally manage to jerk him awake he leaps clear of the sofa, tears stream down his waxy cheeks as he backs away from me, sobs catching in his throat as he calls for Elizabeth. I pause and hold my hands up to show him I mean no harm as I crawl to where he sits, back pinned to the wall, head in his hands, nose buried in her soft grey fur.

“Niko, it’s ok? You’re going to be ok...”

I slip in beside him on the tiled floor, shoulder to shoulder, and peer across at him; I’ve never seen anyone look so fragile and shattered, and all I want in the world is to stop this before he fractures completely. I loop my arm around his shoulders and feel him bristle for a second before he relaxes into me in spite of himself. I know he’s both taller and older than me, but in this moment he looks so young and so very small. He reminds me of my younger brother when we shared a bedroom and he would have a bad dream. He would never call for our maman, always for me: only for me. Although it was simple imaginary monsters under a seven-year-old’s bed that I had to vanquish back then. Now with Nikolai and his demons, I find myself doing as I would with Etienne when we were little; I pull Nikolai closer until both he and Elizabeth are in my lap and his head rests against my chest, the calming rhythm of my heartbeat thrums in his ear.

He tries to protest, mumbling that he’s fine, to leave him be. But he’s not, that much is very, very clear. He shakes like an autumn leaf; brittle and exhausted. I rock our bodies slowly from side to side, mouthing soothing platitudes because they’re all that I have: what else can I say to him when I don’t understand what’s going on? I mop his brow and brush his hair back from his tear-streaked face, softly pressing silent kisses into his crown. I calm and hush him until he eventually snaps fully out of whatever God-awful night terror this was, stiffens to his usual stature and slips away from me with an embarrassed look on his pinched features, the little cat twisting around his ankles as he goes.

I watch after him wordlessly and drop back onto my sofa, sliding under my blankets before he returns. I haven’t known Nikolai for very long at all, but I already understand enough to know that he won’t want a post-mortem of what just happened. When he reappears in the doorway, I ask simply, “Better now?”, and am quite satisfied with the curt nod and tight-lipped smile I’m met with, an accord that we won’t speak of this tomorrow.

[feymaid]

Hey guys! I wrote this a million years ago to fill the angst hole in my heart over what happened at the Lazaret and the drama of it all especially during Lucio’s route. With that being said, please read at your own risk since this deals with some heavy stuff from my apprentice’s past as well as the scary emotions that come after discovering the guy you’ve been actively flirting with indirectly killed you and your loved ones. :D

TW: *abuse. blood. death*

She’s shaking. It is only when they reach the shoreline that she takes a deep breath and gives herself a brief embrace. It takes everything in her not to jump into the boat and start paddling away on her own. She can’t do that. She steadies her body as she moves a foot into the boat. She hesitates and retracts her step. She needs to wait for him. The sun begins to set and darkness slowly creeps over the island, the dead trees above their heads cast spindly shadows on their faces. She had barely spoken to him since they had arrived at the Lazaret and she doesn’t know if she would ever be able to find her voice to express what she was feeling. Every time she thinks she can form words, her bottom lip starts to tremble and it takes all her strength to not start crying. 

In that moment, Pocus had never looked so small, or so far away. Even when they’d been in the palace, even then, she had been close. Bright, full of life and burning. But here? With her trembling fingers, her expression void of emotion? The way she curls in on herself? The sorrow that fills her stomach makes her want to vomit. 

For the first time since they had met, Lucio was silent. She had walked off ahead of him before he probably had processed what was going on. He was only a few strides behind her but even he seemed to know better to keep his distance. She didn’t break her eye contact with the ocean even as she felt his presence stop just behind her. She waited for him to move towards the boat.  They would be silent and never speak of this again. He would take her home and she would never seek him out. It would be easy and she would forget this. She would forget him. 

Instead there is a pause. When he doesn’t move to help her push their boat from the sand her blood runs cold. She can’t hear the sound of the waves crashing over the blood rushing through her ears, the pounding of her erratic heart. She can feel his eyes on the back of her neck and she shudders. She keeps herself in a tight ball, but turns her body to face him and lifts her chin to look at him for the first time.

Lucio stands with his hands crossed in front of him, his metal fingers nervously drumming against the hem of his sleeve. His white collared shirt is stained with the ashes of the island and she has to fight to keep her eyes on him. The ashes of his own destruction. She swallows back the lump in her throat. Despite it all, he holds himself high, a painful smile plastered on his face. His hair is messier than she is used too and he keeps running his fingers through it, trying to hold in his unease. His eyes betray him, holding a pain she can’t quite place. She waits for him to move, instead he speaks. 

“Pocus...what you saw back there was not what it looks like. Er... I didn’t ever mean for it to go this far. You were an unfortunate result of my mistakes…” His eyes look everywhere but her face. He scratches the back of his neck and rocks back and forth on his heels. “I really didn’t mean for you to get hurt in this.”

She says nothing in response. She doesn’t know what he wants her to say. 

He squirms at her silence. Her eyebrows furrow in disgust and she turns away again. He immediately breaks. “Pocus what can I say to make it better? I’m sorry alright?! I really didn’t mean for you to d-” 

 “Don’t,” she says and the ocean is loud enough to swallow her words. The sun hasn’t yet set over the horizon and the ruby sky is just bright enough for him to see her mouth form the single word. He cannot hear how her voice shakes, or how there is doubt and fear and a terrible tremor tied in a large knot in her throat.

He pauses but he is as unshakable as she is shaken. He gently grabs her wrist and her breath catches. She rips her hand away.

“Touch me again and you’ll be sorry,” she says, loud enough this time. He hears everything in her voice now. He doesn’t reach for her, but she can see that he wants to.

“Why would I be sorry?” he asks. 

Her throat feels raw, her voice threatening to break. “You know why,” she says.

He considers her for a moment before stepping closer. She reacts with a step back, almost tripping in the sand, almost reaching for him to steady her. “I know you’re upset with what we saw back there but that’s all in the past!” He says. She shakes her head as he speaks. His voice rises and tears threaten to spill down her cheeks. “Pocus you know that I care about you! Why would I do this all on purpose to hurt you? I only want to make you happy!”

 Her chest heaves and she bites down on her lips to hold back a sob. She shakes her head again. His hands hang empty in the air, waiting for her to take them. 

She makes no move towards him.

The ocean breeze makes her skirt flutter, her hair sticking to the tears that start to spill. She wants to say, “I can’t let myself forgive you because I wouldn’t forgive myself.” Instead, she tucks a lock of hair behind her ear and tries not to feel the knot tighten in her throat.

“You knew.” She chokes out her words. “Y-you knew about this. You lied to me….about everything.” She hugs her body to keep herself grounded. 

Lucio’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Lied? I never lied! I feared that if I told you that you would hate me like everyone else! I was going to tell you eventually!” 

Like everyone else.

She groans and buries her face in her hands. “I’m such a fool! I played right into your game! It was always your plan to use me for your own benefit!” 

“No! I never wanted you to feel that way! Pocus I care-”

“You’re a liar!” She sobs. She backs away even further from him. “You killed everyone I ever loved! You killed me! How could you possibly hope to gain anything from me after what you have done?!” 

 Thoughts tumble, her stomach rolls, guilt along with the satisfying bit of relief of admittance floods through her.  His fault. His presence had brought the plague. The hurt on Lucio’s face still comes as a shock to her even though she means to hurt him. After a moment he speaks again, his voice hoarse. 

“What do I have to do?”

“Take me home.” She pleads earnestly. 

“No, Pocus wait! ” He strides towards her, nearly closing the distance between them and she flinches but can’t walk further away for the risk of walking into the water. 

“Pocus there has to be a way to prove that I am sorry. We haven’t known each other that long but I swear, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You are too precious for me to lose.”  His eyes are genuine, his plea desperate. She tries to ignore the ache in her heart at his words but can’t deny the truth behind them. It only makes it harder. 

“Don’t say that Lucio.”  She wipes her eyes with the back of her wrist. “Please stop. Stop breaking my heart. I-I can’t take it.” 

“I-... You said before...y-you said that you liked me. Did you mean it?” 

“Stop. Stop trying to take more from me.” 

“Pocus, darling I only want to show you how sorry I am!”

“Lucio, whatever you think we had is finished! You can’t expect forgiveness in this!”

“Pocus, you can’t push me away forever. You know that we can’t give up on this!”

He reaches for her hands again and she snaps.

 “I told you not to touch me!”

Something in him breaks too. 

“You are determined to hate me!” He hisses, his demeanor shifts and his eyes darken. “Asra has too much of a hold on you for you to form your own opinions! You are right, you are a fool!” He is so close. He is too close. Terror shoots through her like a bolt of ice. 

The next thing she knows is the feeling of the sharp contact of his cheekbones against her hand. She watches his head snap to the side. 

Her heart is beating so fast that she can’t breathe.

Her vision goes white. 

Rikard’s lips curl in disgust. Her husband turns to face her and spits out blood. He had tried to touch her. He had tried to kiss her. She had slapped him. Hard. He wipes his bloodied hand on his suit jacket. She kneels on the ground before him, pathetic and weak, and trembling. She holds her hands to her chest as she slowly turns her gaze upwards, dark circles under her eyes from lack of sleep. The strike is swift. Stinging against her cheek, promising to bloom a sickly deep purple like the rest that litter her body. “Never raise your eyes to me,” he tells her. “You will learn your proper place wife.” He spits out the last word like it’s poison. “Stand up,”Rikard demands. She does as he asks. Her legs will not be steady, one of them is hopelessly infected, the metal shackle cuts deeply into her thigh. Her spine will not straighten. The ache, the pain, the hurt, the agony and the misery. Shoulders hunched, staring at her own feet as she sways. There’s fog in her eyes, spinning in her head. She staggers as she struggles to stay upright. He sharply pushes against the bent line of her back and she hears her bones scream in resistance. “Stand up.” Parts of her flicker, a trickle of blood falls into her blackened eye. 

She blinks and Lucio is in front of her again. She sees the bright pink flood his cheeks and the tear trickle down his jaw. She’s trembling and waits in fear of his retaliation, frozen in place. He slowly angles his face back towards her. He sniffs and wipes his nose. She drew blood. Regret surges through her. 

“I-I.” She stammers through her tears. “I didn’t-”

“I’ll take you home.” He whispers. He walks away from her and heads towards the boat. 

She stands staring at the sand. Her chest heaves, her fingers clench and unclench. She keeps her eyes on the ground as she slowly trails after him. He’d finished untying the boat. His eyes look everywhere but her and she does the same as she braces the sides of the boat. They find opposite seats from each other and she hugs her knees to her chest.  

A long, tortuous period of quiet passes, the waves have calmed and Pocus trails a finger in the water, her reflection staring sadly back at her. It’s a lie. Those memories of her life before don’t belong to her but a tragic force of a woman by which she clings to. She isn’t real. But Lucio is. She winces as she slowly angles her face towards him. Her eyes are still puffy from crying and she must look as exhausted as she feels by the way her body aches. “Does... it still hurt?” 

Lucio flinches and tenderly rubs his cheek. “Um... It’s fine.” 

She wipes her face with her hands and sighs into her palms. 

“I’m sorry.” She says, her voice slightly muffled. 

“ I’m sorry too.”

“I know.”

[blushnote]

Can you write something where it’s virgin!reader and virgin!Dino’s first Time together and y’all are really nervous??

↳ requested | 4.8k words

↳ chan smut

a/n: so this is the fic that i thought i accidentally lost forever lmao. thankfully, i was able to salvage it (god bless). anyways, i kind of… got carried away with this request. first time smuts are some of my favourite to read since i love soft moments like this. i’ve never written one (and chan fits this perfectly), so i really wanted to do it justice :) i hope you enjoy! 

the situation is set up a little too perfectly. chan’s parents aren’t home – they’re away for the week, vacationing in the warm tropics while it’s rain and snow back in their homeland. you’ve been to chan’s house numerous times in the past, but this time it just feels different. even sitting on his bed has a certain pressure about it; your heart beats fast enough to tell you that.

there’s a movie playing on the television, though neither of you have payed significant attention to it. that’s usually what happens when you’re alone in his bedroom anyways, except his parents have always occupied the house, dissuading you from attempting anything further than a timid make-out session. but now that they’re gone, neither of you can resist each other.

you’re straddling chan’s lap with a palm resting on the back of his neck, while his hands slide further and further up your thighs. your mouth is swollen and glossy, thoroughly cleaned of any cherry lip balm you applied beforehand. though it feels dirty to admit, you love when chan pushes his tongue deep into your mouth and there’s saliva glistening on each other’s lips.

it’s getting quite dark outside, and the sky is nearly the same colour as cinders. the only practical light glows from the television. you can’t help but squeal when chan glides his hands beneath your soft thighs and hauls you closer toward him. he places you right on top of something in his sweats, something hard that pokes right against your core and makes you hot.

this wasn’t your first time experiencing chan’s erection. he was still quite young and hormonal, and you’d often feel him harden against your backside if you were spooning or against your ass when you sat in his lap. you weren’t at that stage in your relationship where you felt capable of taking care of him, and chan would always blush like a summertime rose when it happened.

he’d have to fix the problem on his own, which usually resulted in him slinking off to the bathroom – not that it helped you any. having to hear the distant slapping of his wrist, his high-pitched little whines he desperately tried to muffle, you’d end up just as aroused as him. but things are different tonight. you think you’re ready to progress, even if it scares you.

you and chan break apart, taking a moment to catch your breath. he looks so pretty; even in the darkness you can see the faint splotches of pink on his cheeks and the saliva that wets his bruising mouth. he shifts slightly, and his length presses right against your core through your thin pyjama shorts. you bite your bottom lip hard to suppress the moan that would’ve escaped.

chan sees you look down, and he starts worrying immediately.

“i-i’m sorry,” he stutters, “we don’t have to do this – i just, i don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. i’ll take care of it myse—”

as chan grips your hips and starts to guide you off his lap, you surprise yourself at how quickly you protest. even chan seems somewhat startled.

“no! i… i – i don’t want you to take care of it by yourself…” you mumble, desperately trying to subdue your nervous energy as you meet chan’s gaze, “i want to like… do it, with you. y’know?”

“uhm…” chan gulps thickly and immediately casts a hand through his black hair. his eyes are shiny and wide in the dimness. “you wanna have sex?”

a small, timid smile curls upon your lips. “y-yeah,” you breathe out, your hands slightly shaky on chan’s broad shoulders, “i think i’m ready… what about you?”

chan squeezes your hips. he looks down, incredibly flustered at first, but then he chuckles. this is something you have both thought of time and time again, and chan bravely admits to it.

“yeah, i really want to,” he says while raising his head to lock eyes with you, “i think about it way too much already, m-more than i should…”

“same.” you tell him, suddenly experiencing a flash flood of memories at the back of your skull, primarily each time you’d pleasured yourself while imagining what chan’s length would feel like buried deep inside you. from the way chan is already antsy and squirming, you know he’s reeling with likewise thoughts, and in an empathetic way, it seems to soothe you.

you start kissing again, much slower, but with an unbeknownst passion that feels something like love. your fingertips brush through chan’s hair, allowing the silk to slip between each digit. his hands fall on your lower back. evidently, they want to move further south, though chan is still fighting his own shyness; however, once you experimentally roll your hips, he can’t help it.

chan reaches for your ass and tightly squeezes your flesh in his hands, almost a silent plea for you to repeat the sensual rhythm of your hips. consequently, you begin grinding down on his clothed erection, feeling its prominent outline push against your clit, making you shiver. you don’t stop either, you continue the hypnotic motion, desperately searching for more pleasure, and chan gets so overwhelmed that he accidently bites down too hard on your bottom lip.

“ow…” you mumble against his mouth, your hips coming to a still.

“sorry,” chan squeaks before blinking apologetically at you, his brown eyes glistening, “i-it just, it feels so good when you do that.”

“that’s why i was doing it.” you giggle, and chan instantly blushes.

there’s a heavy pause, but then the boy suddenly proposes something.

“do you wanna turn on the light? or no?”

your fingers pluck at a small, white fluff on chan’s shoulder. “do people actually have sex in the dark?” you ask as though he would have the answer.

“dunno,” he responds, giving a shrug, “but the TV isn’t really cutting it.”

you two intercept the heated make out to perform some adjustments. when chan gets up to flick the light switch on the wall, you search for the remote amongst the sea of his navy blue covers to turn the TV volume down. while you sit on the bed, you finally realize just how wet you are. peeking down at your flimsy, awfully thin pyjama shorts, there’s already a damp spot.

but when you look at chan, that pulsating sensation between your thighs only worsens. his thick, black hair is pushed back from his forehead, slightly disheveled and sticking out in different directions. his cheeks are dusted pink, and his pretty lips are bitten and bright. you can’t help but note how he strains through his sweatpants. you feel dizzy, like you’re on fire.

you almost hate that he’s so broad: his shoulders, his chest, his muscles, you’ve never wanted to touch someone else this badly. when chan returns to the bed, your position changes. he lies overtop of you with an arm next to your head, his lips pressing soft, open-mouth kisses down your neck, occasionally digging in his teeth, leaving indents and bruises on your warm skin.

he arrives at the swell of your chest, where you’re positive he can hear just how sporadically your heart thunders. sitting back on his haunches, chan fiddles with the hem of your shirt.

“can i take it off?” he asks quietly.

you pause for a second, realizing you’re not wearing a bra. you usually didn’t when you came to chan’s house, mostly for comfort reasons when you were lying down watching movies.

not allowing yourself time to overthink, you nod, “o-okay.”

as chan starts pushing your shirt up your stomach, you can feel your heartbeat in every part of your body. this incredible concoction of nerves boils your blood. no one has ever seen you like this, in this complete vulnerability and bareness. after chan helps you remove the shirt from over your head, the cold air immediately strikes your skin like a winter wind. your arm jerks, wanting to cover your chest instinctually and protectively, but you fight to keep it down.

chan drops the shirt onto the floor. he does nothing apart from stare at your breasts, your exposed skin, and you swear you can see his pupils dilate.

“g-god,” he stumbles over his words, “y-you’re so beautiful.”

he smooths his hand up your right side, etching closer toward your heaving chest. your mouth has gotten as dry as the desert. chan probably feels your pulse under his fingertips.

“can i touch you, baby?” he whispers.

your eyes feel glassy and hot. upon nodding your head, chan cups your right breast in his hand. his thumb tenderly brushes back and forth over the perked nipple, to which your countenance crinkles at the gentle feeling. he squeezes too, always flitting between your chest and facial expressions in order to gauge your reaction. you take deep breaths to keep yourself relaxed.

chan leans down. while his hand tends to your right breast, his lips press kisses against the other, until he becomes more adventurous and starts to slowly swirl his tongue around your nipple. you release a quiet, soft sigh, one that encourages chan to continue his ministrations. he suckles the perked skin between his lips while he massages your other breast with more vigor.

eventually, chan pulls away from your chest, somewhat breathless, and smiles. “i-i like making you feel good,” he says, “you sound really pretty when you moan.”

“thank you,” comes your squeak of a reply. you almost can’t make eye contact with him when you request: “channie, can we take off your shirt too?”

the material soon lands on the floor next to your own shirt. chan brushes back some of his disarrayed hairs with his hand, only to see you shuffle up slightly, using your elbows as support. chan shivers when your touch glides up his side to his chest, where your thumb draws circles overtop the atrium of his heart. you squeeze his right bicep too, feeling how hard the muscle is.

he’s incredibly bashful. the moment you massage your fingers against his nipple, chan releases a high-pitched, sensitive whimper. he slumps forward into you, glowing with embarrassment, though his hips begin to hump gently against the lower part of your abdomen out of pure and venereal instinct. cupping his face, you make out again in a sloppy but passionate fashion.

in between kisses, you murmur against his mouth, “i need you so bad, i-it hurts.”

the constant thrumming between your thighs continues to worsen. it’s gotten to a point where your underwear is sticking persistently to your own arousal, and it’s becoming uncomfortable. chan’s fingers hook into the waistband of your pyjama shorts, but you both struggle in coordinating, and he has to sit back in order to help you slide them fully off.

they land somewhere near the end of the bed. when chan turns his gaze back to you, this immense surge of heat swelters throughout your entire body and you can’t stop yourself from squirming and fidgeting. your heartbeat hammers against your throat. the only thing that separates him from your core is the black, dampened underwear you’re wearing.

chan gulps tightly before asking in a small voice, “ca-can i eat you out? i really wanna try it.”

your fingers thread into the navy bedsheets underneath you, clutching fistfuls of the fabric.

“okay.” you squeak in compliance.

nothing has ever felt so electrifying, and you almost can’t fathom that this is finally happening. the butterflies churn wickedly in your stomach as chan leans down and closes his eyes, pressing kisses just above the lace waistline of your underwear. his fingers hook through the black material, and little by little, chan begins pulling the undergarment down your legs. once they’re discarded, it hits you in one big gust just how exposed you are. your entire body is on display.

chan furrows his brow when he sees that your legs are bent, with your thighs squeezed together tightly. you’re biting down hard on your bottom lip, breathing in as deep as possible to calm your raucous, wild heart. chan sets his hand on your knee and moves closer to you.

“are you okay?” chan asks, observing how your fingers sink straight into the bedsheets.

“y-yeah,” you stutter, and swallow thickly before meeting his empathetic gaze, “everything still feels so new. i’m really nervous.”

chan leans down, placing a sweet kiss to your forehead, then another to your lips.

“i’m nervous too,” he says earnestly, his hand moving to stroke your stomach, “it’s our very first time? how could we not be?”

a timid smile breaks across your mouth, and you nod your head.

“i won’t ever touch you in places you don’t want me to,” chan’s tone adapts a more serious nuance, though his words comfort you immensely, “i wouldn’t ever make you feel less of yourself, baby. i only want to do whatever makes you feel good, and loved.”

staring into chan’s eyes, experiencing their softness and ardent compassion, you almost want to cry in the tenderness of the moment. no one has ever ignited such a sense of safety within you, where you feel that your trust is unbreakable. despite you both being nervous, bubbling wrecks, you can’t describe the appreciation you feel for chan as he solaces you.

consequently, you begin to relax. you part your legs and slightly drop the bend in your knees, the bedroom air feeling cool against your slick, warm flesh.

“i need you to touch me, channie, please,” you nearly plead to him, “i trust you.”

the boy attempts to get comfortable between your legs, though he becomes exponentially distracted the second he lays eyes on your core. his breath hitches in his throat, sharp and loud, to which your entire face splits into flame. you want to gauge his reactions, but you’re also embarrassed and still a little shy. chan uses his two thumbs to pull your slippery folds apart.

“y-you’re so wet, so pretty too…” he nearly slurs his words upon examining the gloss that coats your slit, how your eager bud swells and pulses in need of stimulation.

experimentally, chan presses down softly on your clit with his thumb, massaging the bud in circles. he doesn’t know how much pressure is too much or too little, so he looks to you for direction; however, you can hardly cough a word out. just to have chan touch you – it already feels unlike anything in the universe. you sense his hand shaking a little, but he performs well.

“does it feel good?” chan asks as he continues to rub his thumb.

“mmhm.” you hum while pulling up on the bedsheets.

it isn’t until chan places a long, slow lick from your opening to your clit that your body seems to adapt a will of its own. your head tilts back against the plump pillow, and your chest arches high into the air. he’s very cautious in his movement, not wanting to inflict any harm, and continues licking you with a particular softness and attentivity. one of your hands can’t help but thread through his black hair to tug minimally on the strands, and chan moans into your core.

in reaction to the sudden vibration, you release a small cry. chan already seems to be developing his own technique. though he listens for any direction you may give him, you don’t even think it’s possible for you to speak. the sensation of his soft, wet tongue lapping with more firmness at your clit overwhelms you with an electrifying pleasure. there’s a distinct pressure that expands in your abdomen, warm and fluttering, a pressure that makes you get teary-eyed.

“ch-chan,” you manage to whimper while your hips buck quickly against his face, “it’s tt-too much, m’gonna cc-cum, m’gonna cc– cum!”

you don’t know what force in your body compelled you to do so, but gently you push chan’s head away. his mouth detaches from your swollen core, and it’s a horrible, horrible feeling, especially as you retreat from a wondrous high that was just above the horizon. however, you want to climax with chan buried deep inside of you. he’s breathing heavily, and licks his lips.

“did i hurt you?” he inquires instantly.

“n-no,” you reply while getting onto your elbows and feeling the sweat glimmer across your forehead, “it felt so good, too good. and i just want to cum with you inside me, t-that’s all…”

chan nods. “yeah, of course.”

you can’t even begin to imagine how much his length must be aching behind his sweatpants. in fact, you happen to spot a small wet mark, probably where some of his cum had leaked through when he was eating you out. your mouth starts watering, and you want to slap yourself for thinking so dirtily. before anything progresses, you have to make sure there’s protection.

“please say you have condoms in here or something.”

chan laughs, and cards a hand through his messy hair.

“i do actually. they’re in the first drawer on the nightstand, under the tissue box.”

you lean over to open the compartment. sure enough, once you lift the box you see the line of silver foils. tearing the last one off, you close the drawer and examine the shiny packaging, realizing you’ve never even held a condom before. chan chuckles at your curiosity, to which you smile at him. this is really happening, and you’re nearly shaking in nerves and excitement.

“well…” chan says, “guess we shouldn’t beat around the bush, huh?”

“i guess not.” you respond coyly, and look off to the side once chan stands from the bed and gets ready to pull down his waistband.

except, you can’t not look, and your gaze is immediately drawn to chan’s crotch as he slides down his sweatpants, his boxers following suit. something molten melts into the pit of your abdomen, and you suddenly develop a hard pulse at the apex of your thighs. as chan steps out from his clothes and kicks them away, you can hardly breathe. his length is hard against his stomach, shaded a purplish colour near the head and leaking with pearls of cum.

he sets one knee on the bed, and gestures you for to hand him the foil packet, though you’re in such a trance you almost don’t note his beckoning hand.

“wait.” you pipe up, and chan tilts his head. you lick your dry lips, your heart pressing sharply against your ribs as you ask, “can i try something?”

chan’s face is glowing like a peach, but he nods his head anyways.

you move a bit closer to him, until his length hovers a few inches from your face. some of the veins protrude clearly from the shaft, travelling toward the sensitive head. you aren’t really sure what you’re doing as you wrap your palm just below the flushed tip, and you poorly hide your surprise of how hard chan is, almost like a rock. using your thumb, you brush back and forth over his slit, smearing the cream. you feel his member suddenly twitch in your hand.

“i-i don’t know what i’m doing.” you confess, and gaze up at chan through your lashes.

“that feels good,” chan tells you, “the tip is really sensitive though, baby. i-if you keep rubbing your thumb like that, i’ll cum really fast.”

chan suddenly shifts his palm over top of yours, then, he guides you on what to do by gently pumping each other’s hands.

“l-like this,” he instructs as you glide up and down his shaft, “you can build the pace too. it doesn’t have to be this slow.”

“o-okay,” you utter quietly, transfixed by the hypnotizing motion.

chan eventually takes his own guide away and allows you to give him an experimental hand job. he makes sure you don’t pump too quickly, or else he fears he might blow his load right onto your face. you can’t evade your curiosity. as more of the white substance beads at chan’s slit, you decide to lean forward, lapping your tongue against his tip to collect a sustainable taste.

the action clearly arouses chan. his hips buck forward and a stuttered moan breaks off his lips, a thick haze developing in his eyes upon watching you place your lips around his head. you suckle softly, even swirl your tongue, and the boy has to grab you by the hair to pull you off.

“fuck, baby,” chan curses, “m’definitely gonna cum if you do that. i’m too sensitive right now.”

you apologize to chan, though he assures you everything is fine. he gets his hands on the silver foil and rips it open, tossing the crumpled packaging onto the nightstand. chan slides the condom on with surprising ease, and you almost wonder if he’s practiced before. but when the foreplay is done, it dawns on you that there’s nothing in the way of the actual sex.

once you spend a few minutes getting comfortable on the bed, chan ensures you spread your legs wide so he has enough room and light to see what he’s doing. you stare up at the white ceiling while inhaling slow, deep breaths, your hands folded across your tummy. in the background, you manage to hear the dull buzz of the television that still plays the movie.

you can even hear the snow and rain pattering against the windows.

“okay,” chan hums, getting your attention, “i’m gonna start pushing in now.”

he examines your face closely, looking for any sign of doubt or unhidden fear.

“chan,” you chirp while shuffling onto your elbows, “i-i know this might seem weird, but… do you know if it’ll hurt? does that only happen if i’m not…. like, wet enough?”

“i think so,” chan agrees, “but there might be other reasons, like position, or if you’re struggling to relax.” his expression softens, and he starts rubbing circles into your thighs. “i promise, if you feel like you need me to stop, i’ll stop. i’ll be gentle, baby, okay?” he then leans forward and places a reassuring kiss on your lips, prompting you to smile.

“just breathe, alright?” chan reminds you.

once chan starts pushing inside your opening, there’s a definite stretch that your body registers. it’s not exactly painful, just somewhat uncomfortable, but not to a degree that can’t be handled. there’s a persistent mewling that trembles from your lips, to which chan leans overtop you, his elbows braced next to your head in order to kiss you and comfort you.

you reach for his waist, your nails fleshing into his warm skin as chan continues to press himself deeper inside of you. his body is trembling, and you can tell he wants to start thrusting.

“i-it stings.” you whimper, staring through a blurry film into chan’s eyes.

“s-should i s-stop?” the boy immediately questions, his hips already stilling, but you shake your head in disagreement. the sting is slowly beginning to subside anyways.

when chan is completely situated within your heat, you can hardly process anything, not even your own fleeting thoughts. you almost feel as though you’re caught in a dreamlike state, where everything is hazy apart from certain attributes, such as chan’s length throbbing deep inside of you. there’s an inconceivable fullness you can hardly articulate. the new sensation is totally overwhelming, and you can feel the liquid salt surge and push against your tear ducts.

chan is clearly overwhelmed too. his head buries into the crook of your neck, and his arms shiver next to your head. he’s burning with the desire to begin thrusting his hips. your heat can’t even compare to his own hand. the manner in which you unconsciously squeeze around him is cosmic. however, he forces himself to wait until you’re ready for movement.

“you st-still okay?” chan stutters after raising his head from your gleaming skin.

“it fe-feels weird, but g-good weird” you tell him, “m’so full, channie.”

chan nods. “ye-yeah. you’re really w-warm inside. really t-tight n’soft. you feel perfect, baby.”

you confirm that it’s okay for chan to begin moving. he makes sure his motions are slow, carefully drawing out his hips until about halfway before gently thrusting into you. you feel the head of his length brush something sponge-like against your walls. he clenches his fists, and you can see how his biceps tense. no doubt he’s attempting to control himself. you grab onto his shoulders as chan begins picking up his rhythm. he thrusts just a little bit harder.

“s-stop—” you find yourself squeaking, and chan immediately freezes.

“fuck,” he grunts, cupping the side of your face with his palm, “d-did i hurt you? i’m so sorry, baby, i shouldn’t have went any harder—,”

“no, no, you didn’t hurt me,” you laugh a bit breathlessly, “i-it’s just, you t-touched something in me, and it doesn’t feel good… do you think i can move down a little bit?”

chan strokes your cheek and plants a small kiss on your nose.

“of course. are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“i’m sure.” you reply, giving him a tiny smile.

after some adjustment, you’re tremendously more comfortable with the new position. though it takes a couple minutes to regain your earlier pace, everything falls back into plan and chan resumes thrusting into you. this time, it feels wonderful, and your flesh starts to warm with these unprecedented waves of pleasure, which are sort of tingly and resonate profoundly.

but then the head of chan’s length pushes directly into this one pliant, extremely sensitive spot, and your entire world goes black. your eyes squeeze shut like an iron curtain and your chest arches against chan’s. the shock that melted throughout your body was an insane sense of pleasure. suddenly, chan ticks that spot again, and you claw down his back in a gigantic moan.

“ri-right there!” you exclaim while pushing your head back into the pillow, “f-feels ss-so good! pl-please, chan—nnfg—more!”

you’re breathing becomes increasingly laboured as chan continues to brush against that perfect spot. in consequence, your walls clamp down tightly around his aching member, making it difficult for chan to maintain his pace when he’s about to burst into the condom. in fact, the warmth and enveloping silk of your walls is too much, and chan cries out loudly as he can no longer withdraw his urges. he empties into the condom, feeling your nails sink into his back.

but he keeps thrusting, keeps pressing himself fully inside of you until the pressure cannot be maintained any longer and the euphoria collapses. you almost feel paralyzed as the pleasure courses throughout your entire body, your jaw unhinged in a high-pitched, gasp of a moan, a sound that you didn’t even know you could make.

the tears pump down your face, slipping past your cheeks and feeling notably cold against your neck. your legs had wrapped around chan’s waist, keeping him fleshed inside you, right to hilt in order to ride out your intense orgasm. chan still feels your gentle contractions hug his length, and he wishes that blissful feeling would last forever.

you heave in exhaustion, your bodies aglow with a thin film of sweat, surrounded by air that smells like sex while it rains and snows beyond the window. chan rests his forehead on top of your own. you catch his tender stare for a split second, just before he’s kissing you with any energy he has remaining, to which your fingers run through his dampened, black hair.

“i-i love you, so much, ” he pants softly against your lips, “a-and thank you for sharing every part of yourself with me. really, you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever known.”

unable to bear the sincerity and earnest love of chan’s gaze, you sniffle back your tears, though you brush the side of his face with your hand in adoration.

“d-don’t say that,” you swallow tightly, your eyes stinging, “i’m gonna cry even more.”

“sorry,” chan laughs, still a little breathless, “but it’s true.”

you nod your head while slightly shifting your hips, recognizing that chan remains burrowed inside your heat. for some reason, the closeness comforts you to an extent you can’t articulate, and you yearn to stay in such a position of safety and solace forever.

“t-thank you,” you speak in a saccharine tone, “i love you too, channie.”

as the night progresses, you take the time to shower and change the sheets on chan’s bed. though you brought your own overnight bag, you still wear a t-shirt that chan had in his closet alongside a fresh pair of underwear. as chan dries his body with a new towel, you’re leaning over the sink with a toothbrush in your mouth, in which you spit out the minty foam.

after grabbing the television remote and shutting off the light, you both return to chan’s bed, where you relax between his legs, your back against his chest. you play some random movie that sounds like it’ll be decent, and spend the rest of the night in each other’s company, not wanting to separate from the other’s gentle strokes or soft exchange kisses for even a moment.

as long as you have each other, everything feels more than perfect.

[thesassenachswiftie]

Lover Chapter 5 - “False God”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4

Summary:

Claire has made up her mind to end things with Jamie. How will he react when she makes a confession to him?

Notes:

Thank you all for following along on this journey. We left off in a pretty angsty spot and the angst is going to continue for a bit here.

New chapters every Friday, moodboard release every Monday, previews on Wednesday

Chapter 5:  ���False God”

Claire managed to somewhat keep it together all morning as they picked up their discarded clothes scattered about the room, grabbed a quick breakfast and got on the road.  Jamie, of course, noticed the look on her face shortly after waking.  When he inquired, she blamed a hangover (which wasn’t entirely a lie) and assured him she would be fine. She would not be fine, and neither would he, she suspected.  He seemed so chipper, so alive, like he was ready to conquer the world.  She knew she was a terrible person to do this to him, but if she didn’t do it now it would be so much worse for the both of them later.  She decided to tell him when they were about a half hour from her house. That way, if he left her on the side of the road--which she wouldn’t blame him for--she’d be close enough to call Jo to come pick her up. She had made sure her phone was charged the night before if that was to be the case.

 For the first stretch of her trip, she remained quiet, still blaming the hangover and staring out the window as Jamie talked about Scotland and England and all the places he’d love to take her and people he wanted to introduce her to there.  She tuned out most of what he was saying.  She couldn’t bear dreaming with him, and needing to mentally rehearse what she would say when the time came.  She watched the road ahead of her, trying to focus on the movement of the car instead of the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.  Eventually, the time came--she couldn’t put it off any longer.

“Jamie, we were crazy to think that this could work” she blurted out, more abruptly than she had intended.

“I know Claire, but we might just get away with this, it’s going great so far--”

“No Jamie, I mean, this isn’t going to work.  We can’t keep seeing each other like this, and what’s going to happen when you leave?”

“Have you not been listening to me for the past hour? Remember how I said I’d fly ta ya? What are you doing Claire?”

“We were stupid to jump in with an ocean separating us.  We can’t just fly back and forth whenever we feel like it.  It’s not realistic.  We’re living in a fantasy world, Jamie. We’re living in a dream and it’s time to wake up to reality.”

“Claire, I--”

“No, let me finish.  I know I’ve had a setback in my career, but I still want to be a doctor.  I’m not going to be able to spend any time with you when I do eventually start my residency, whether you fly here or not.  It’s not fair to you or me.  It’s not fair to you that I keep you away from your family.  It’s not fair to you that you have to sneak around and lose sleep on my account.  I’m doing this for you, believe it or not.”

Jamie’s hands gripped the steering wheel, turning his knuckles white, his jaw tightened and his face felt hot as something within him broke. “Claire, how could ye possibly be doing this for me when it isna what I want at all?” He reached for her, knowing it would be easier to talk to her if they touched.

Claire stared out the passenger window, arms crossed across her chest, shrinking herself as far away as she could. “Don’t touch me.” she hissed.  She knew she couldn’t do this if they touched, she’d be lost in him again, it was taking all her resolve to say her piece.

Jamie, ever the gentlemen, knew even something as small as a touch on the shoulder was something that needed consent, and reluctantly put his hand back on the steering wheel. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this, staring out the window like I’m not your favorite.  God dammit Claire, it’s hell when I fight with you.”  He felt so frustrated, he couldn’t understand how less than twenty-four hours ago she confessed her love to him and now she was doing this. “This canna possibly be what you really want.  We belong together, we were meant to meet Claire, we were meant to be together. Ya really wanna leave?  Go ahead, try and leave me, try and tell me honestly that’s what you really want.”  He thought if he could scare her maybe she’d come to her senses and change her mind.

The tears were flowing freely from Claire's eyes now.  “Yes.” she said quietly.  “Jamie, I’m New York City, you’re the English countryside, we don’t belong together, we don’t fit together.  If this was meant to be we’d be on the same path, and we’re just not.”

You’re not New York City, you’re my Sassenach, you don’t belong to any place, that’s what I love about you, you just belong with me. Jamie thought to himself. “Claire, I can’t let you go that easy.  I love you so much, I’d die for you Claire.  If you want me to fly to you every week, I will, I swear to it, tell me what to do Claire.”

Claire’s resolve was weakening, he wasn’t supposed to keep loving her, to keep worshipping her as if she were worthy of his love. She only had one thing left to say, the confession she hoped she wouldn’t have to share. The last thing she wanted to ever tell him, but the thing that might finally make him leave.  “I’m not what you think I am Jamie.  I lied to you!”

“What are you talking about?”

“That first night we were together, I told you Frank broke up with me… he didn’t. I didn’t even talk to him. I used you.  I wanted you, I wanted to piss Frank off--I was bored and lonely and horny and I lied to you to get my way.  That’s the type of person I am, I’m not this wonderful person you’ve made me out to be.”

All he could do in reply was grunt a Scottish noise of disapproval. Her confession ignited a livid fire in him, he didn’t know what to feel or how to respond.  He would never have consented to sleeping with her that night knowing she still belonged to Frank. God, she was engaged to him for heaven’s sake. How could she let him do that, knowing how he felt about the situation. He had been under her spell, completely captivated by her, and he didn’t know if he fully regretted it. The final minutes of their car ride continued in heated silence. The air in the car was thick with something that felt like it would ignite and burn up fast if either of them uttered a word. 

Jamie dropped Claire off at the end of her street as she had requested earlier, she grabbed her weekender bag from the backseat and softly said “Goodbye, Jamie” before shutting the door, not daring herself to look at him as she did. She walked to her house as quickly as she could and collapsed to the ground sobbing as soon as she was inside her door. She knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

----------

            Jamie drove away from her, glancing one last time at her figure in the rearview mirror in spite of himself.  He felt betrayed, upset, confused and aimless. Above all, he felt heartbroken. They had warned him about times like these--his father, his Godfather, even his brother-in-law.  “When you fall in love”, they said, “the road gets hard and you get lost in it” and Jamie was just now figuring out what they meant.  He had been following her with blind faith, doing anything she asked without a thought, sneaking around--even allowing her to cheat with him, albeit unknowingly. He was still too eager, too willing. How could he forgive himself for that?  How could he allow a woman to consume him so deeply, body, mind and soul? Worst of all, who was he without her, now that she had walked away?

He found himself pulling into the parking lot of a Catholic church.  He didn’t attend weekly anymore, nor did his family.  “The Lord kens how difficult it is ta get seven bairns dressed and ready for church and the Lord kens how much we love him.” his sister Jenny would say.  He knew he didn’t need the church building to love and worship God. He also recognized that the Roman Catholic Church was as flawed and marred by sin as the worst sinner, but he still found something comforting and spiritual about visiting. Something about the waxy smell of candles and the glow the stained glass cast on the cold marble interior, made him feel like he was connected to something ancient and holy, something bigger than himself--and in this moment he needed something bigger than himself to help him make sense of this situation. He dipped his hand in the font and crossed himself as he entered, strode to the pews, and genuflected before taking a seat in the middle of the empty church.  He rested his forehead on his clasped hands, elbows resting on the back of the pew in front of him, ready to speak to the only one who could listen.  The one who knew him best and could help him sort through all the raw emotions that weighed so heavily on him in this moment.

He allowed the tears he’d been holding back to flow freely as he prayed: Lord, please have mercy on my soul for I am a sinner. I thought that you had made her for me, I selfishly thought that we were meant to be together. I tried to be good, I tried to respect and honor her. With her I knew heaven was a thing, I went there when I touched her. Lord, I confess I coveted my neighbor’s wife--well, fiancée if we’re being technical about it--but you of course know these things. I beg you for forgiveness for that, and I’m afraid I am guilty of a bit more than just coveting. Please forgive me for the sins I did not know I was committing.  Lord, if you did not make her for me, please, please, take my desire for her from me, I beg of you.  I fear even if she is a false god that I am still sorely tempted to worship this love.  However, Lord, if you did in fact make her for me, and me for her, as I believe you are good enough to do, please Lord, bring her back to me.  Heal her wounds and bring her back to me, I swear to you I’ll care for her, honor her and never let her leave me again.  I’ll do whatever it takes Lord, please, just free me from this pain I feel.  It’s too much to bear without her.