#my friends care for me. im so tired of being broken like this.

[creativebrainrot]

.

[dewgongs]

ughh why do i have to have njghtmares about them

[skrunksthatwunk]

found out that rascal's owner took him again while i was out, and he's probably not gonna be back since the semester's almost over. i don't even know if his owner's coming back next semester, if i'll ever see him again. if he'll ever see me again. why do they wait until im not around to do this? why do they never let me say goodbye to him?

[tortademaracuya]

Lalala im just venting in the tags

[rigaudon]

I am holding myself together by a fucking thread and I just want it to break so i can get a break.

[vxsellie]

KINDLY, DARLIN' - 𝐸.𝑊

summary. after seemingly endless days on the road, you find yourself at a random country bar in the middle of nowhere. entering with the sole goal of getting your hands on come kind of alcohol, your attention is soon drawn elsewhere. to a girl and her guitar. notes. ok funny story! this idea came to me from a 5 sec interaction i had with a complete stranger. i went out to a bar, gave ten bucks to the singer, & he said the line that the title is based off of , which the prompted my brain to conjure up an entire love story (he's prob double my age lets be so fr) Also! idk if any of u will like this comparison (if not, just ignore this). but, as i wrote this, i imagined ellie's voice like lucy gray's from the hunger game's. like the slight country drawl, strong vocals, yes yes yes yes Also x2! anyone who follows me should know that im absolute SHITTT at writing smut. but, for some reason, that doesn't seem to stop me from creating works of garbage for my own amusement. anyway, if you reach the smut & realize that it's literal trash, i won't blame u for clicking off of this. just a warning! warnings. brief mention of creepy old men at the bar, depictions of alcohol, public flirting ???, eventual smut, drunk sex in a bathroom LMAO, oral (r! receiving), fingering (r!receiving) wc. 5.1k

𝓕uck your back hurts. Well, if you're being honest, everything hurts. Your neck, back, stomach, legs, hands. Everything that's capable of aching, does.

However, rather unfortunately, you suppose that's to be expected after driving for nigh two days straight in your shitty truck. It's a 90s pickup, the white paint peeling and the tires in desperate need of care. The beige seats are worn and stained, evidence of age having taken its toll on your poor vehicle.

In spite of your truck's needs, you're far more interested in your own ⎯ getting a damn drink.

You're currently coasting through the backroads of some small western town, streets made of dirt and buildings all decrepit. You've never heard of this place before, the name having already slipped your mind due to how utterly foreign it'd been to your mind.

Your headlights cast a yellow glow onto the dirt before you, your tires crunching against fallen leaves and loose rocks. You pass gas stations, wooden homes, dollar stores, an immeasurable amount of churches, and no liquor store. Most shop signs are staked into the dirt, the few billboards all dilapidated in some way ⎯ broken letters, flickering lights, or completely torn from the ground somehow.

Then, by either the grace of God or a wondrous turn of fate, your eyes stutter on a certain sign. A broken wooden one advertising a bar. Your interest is instantly piqued, wheel turning toward the building without hesitation.

You don't give yourself the chance to even think before you're hopping out of your truck and walking into the bar.

The moment you push open the wooden double doors, the sound of boisterous laughter and heavy cowboy boots meet your ears. Perfect.

You stand in place for a moment, craning your neck with narrowed eyes are you examine the atmosphere. To the left, there's a bar with almost every stool occupied by an overweight old man. To the right, there's a pair of barn doors with the word 'restrooms' carved into the wood. In the center of the space, there's bucking machine ⎯ a drunk teenage boy holding on for dear life while his group of friends cackle at him from the sidelines.

Then, on the side of the building opposite you, there's a small stage. It's only elevated a foot or so, wood rotting a bit on the edges. But you hardly care for the conditions of the stage itself. What you find yourself drawn to is the person on it.

In the center is a stool, an auburn haired woman perched atop it with an old guitar situated on her lap. She strums the instrument in an upbeat tempo, leaned forward slightly as she sings into the microphone before her. There's a small crowd in front of the stage, girls admiring and boys whistling.

Considering how run-down this town is, you hadn't expected to stumble across a bar that's so fucking packed. There's barely any open stools at the bar, the bathroom doors are rarely sitting still as people continue to pass through them, the mechanical bull being gifted coins non-stop. But you can't complain.

After so long alone on the road, it's nice to be in such an active atmosphere. It's not calming, of course, but you welcome it lovingly nonetheless.

Watching the auburn for a few moments longer, you then turn on your heel and saunter over to the bar. You're forced to sit beside someone as the lack of stools forbids you from not having a neighbor.

"What can I get'cha, hon'?" The bartender asks you with a tip of his cowboy hat. In his other hand, he wipes the outside of an octagonal glass cup.

"Got any whiskey?" You inquire, leaning your elbows on the sticky countertop.

"Mhm," He hums, turning around to grab a bottle from the shelves behind the bar. He sets the glass onto the counter with a light clink, popping the bottle open. "'N' how would ya like it?"

"Neat."

He nods once more, pouring the liquid into the glass with a flourish before sliding it across the wood toward you. The moment you grab it, he's turning away to tend to another patron. You drink it quickly, downing the glass in one large swig.

As you place the glass back onto the counter, you feel eyes boring into you. Hoping it's someone of interest to you, you turn only to find a duo of old men chuckling at you. Their cheeks are rosy, bellies full ⎯ therefore likely drunk. You roll your eyes as the bartender refills your glass without a word.

Now with an entirely new bit of determination, you down that glass even faster. Another refill. Another singular gulp. Another refill. Another gulp. Another. Another. Another.

You're now swaying a bit atop your stool, feeling pretty good all things considered. The men continue to gossip among themselves, pointing at your ass. You feel disgusted ⎯ not at yourself, but at them for their fucking audacity. Part of you wants to knock their teeth out. But you're not that drunk.

So, instead, you take the mature approach and simply pick up your glass and exit the scene. As you walk away, you hear their chuckles increase and you suddenly regret not punching them.

Your heavy boots thud against the wooden flooring as you walk aimlessly around the bar. You push through an amass of bodies, everyone too drunk to care for your harsh shoving. Then, before you know it, you find yourself situated in the very front of the stage, glass of whiskey in hand.

The woman's voice is laced with a slight country drawl, her boot tapping against the leg of her stool to count the beats of the song. She nods her head as she sings, a small grin lighting her features.

The dim lighting of the bar doesn't do her justice. But you still manage to notice the freckles that dot her face, the cupids bow to her upper lip, the small scar on her right eyebrow. Or maybe you're just drunk and enamored by her. God, what if she finds you creepy? What if she thinks you're some fucking creep? What if she⎯

She looks at you and you swear your heart gives out right then and there. And, if that weren't enough, she winks. You feel your cheeks heat up and you blame it on the alcohol. You down the rest of your whiskey, suddenly feeling very hot. A light chuckle shakes her chest, ringing throughout the space. Nobody else thinks anything of it, of course, all too drunk and preoccupied to give a shit. But you find yourself fantasizing about all the other ways you could make this woman laugh like that again. Oh fuck you are a creep.

In a desperate attempt to salvage the residual bits of dignity you have left, you pull twenty bucks from your back pocket and step forward to drop it into her open guitar case.

She raises a brow, tipping her cowgirl hat in your direction with a smirk. "Thank ya kindly, darlin'."

Somehow, she'd managed to thank you in tune with the song, keeping the beat going without missing a second. It's almost impressive. Okay, it's super impressive. In fact, you feel your heart speeding up again, mind playing on loop the sound of her addressing you. Her country drawl, her smirk, her long fingers grabbing the bridge of her hat. Fuck.

Impulsively, you end up turning on your heel and heading right back to that damn bar. The bartender just grins as he pours you another serving, likely having noticed the flush to your cheeks and the desperation of which you placed the glass down.

"Mind if I give y' some advice?" He asks, leaning forward a bit.

In an act of self pity, you don't have the energy to deny him. "Why the hell not?"

"I ain't gotta clue who you're blushin' over, but my advice is that." He nods toward something behind you. You cast a glance over your shoulder, eyes landing on the bucking machine. You almost laugh, turning back to him with an unimpressed expression. "Listen, y' ain't gotta be good. Y' jus' gotta move your hips right n' I swear he's all yours. Trust me. I've seen it work hundreds of times."

You don't dare to correct him on the gender of your current infatuation, instead deciding to take a few more drinks for a bit of liquid courage. I mean, seriously. How else will you get this woman's attention? Plus, what do you have to lose? You'll never see her again after tonight. The least you could do is try.

After another few drinks, you're staggering over to the mechanical bull with a few coins clutched tight in the palm of your hand. The wait for the stupid thing is way longer than necessary, everyone competing for the longest time lasted on the machine.

You lean your empty hand on the frame of the wooden fence that encircles the rider, watching with reddened eyes as yet another person is flung onto the ground with a heavy thud. He rubs his head with a groan, though his sounds of pain quickly fade into laughter as he brushes off his jeans and stands upright, returning to his boisterous friends with a crooked grin.

Unease begins to lick up your spine, the logical part of your brain wondering why the fuck you're doing this for some country chick you don't even know the name of. You're strong, sure, but your luck would lead you to breaking your neck.

You look over your shoulder casting a glance in the direction of the bar. The bartender gives you two thumbs up, flashing you a grin with missing teeth. As encouraging as that is, what really pushes you to continue is seeing those two old men. They're sitting side-by-side, lustrous smirks on their face as they stare at you, leaning over every few seconds to mutter something in the other's ear. Yeah. Fuck them. You're doing this.

As you make it to the front of the line, you're overcome with naught but confidence. Whether that be due to the sound of the woman's singing growing nearer or the sight of the gross old men, you don't know. Though, honestly, it's likely because of the sheer amount of whiskey you've downed in the past hour.

"Coins." The blonde woman demands, palm of her hand facing you like a bill you've been avoiding. You place the coins into her hand and she opens the gate, hinges squealing as the prior rider stumbles out with a streak of dirt under her eye.

You walk into the ring, feet staggering a bit already from your drunkenness. You hoist yourself onto the bull, situating yourself until you feel a bit less awkward atop the back of the metal animal.

It begins rocking slowly back and forth. You find it easy at first, not really needing to use your hands. You still do, though, not much trusting the machine to not throw you off the moment you let your guard down. It picks up the speed, more. More. More. More. And, before you know it, it's thrashing back and forth. You hold onto the saddle, a dazed smile spreading across your face as you find yourself having fun.

It spins in a circle, your eyes suddenly catching on the woman on stage. She has the perfect view of you from her pedestal, her stool bringing her higher than the crowd just as the bull brings you.

She's still singing into the mic, her voice drowned out by the sound of chatter and cheers ⎯ though you're not sure if they're directed toward you or her at this point.

You've stayed on longer than you anticipated, the ache in your back returning as the bull yanks and dives under you. But you hold on, suddenly remembering the bartender's advice. You don't want to switch up whatever tactic you accidentally built into habit, but the point of this is to get the woman's attention.

So you wait until it spins back around. Then, while her eyes are pinned to yours, you shift a bit, back moving more fluidly as you roll your hips against it. Nobody else would think anything of it, the act so subtle that you simply appear to have altered your position. But she noticed. You know she did. Because her voice caught in her throat, causing her to have to take a sip from her water and apologize into the mic before resuming.

Your confidence spikes at this, suddenly feeling much more egoistical than you did when she was a complete stranger you made eye contact with once. Now you know you have an effect on her.

So you do it again, maintaining eye contact as you roll your hips against the bull suggestively.

Just as before, nobody else pays any mind, far too focused on the fact that you're stayed on for so long to give a fuck about technique. Honestly, if anyone were to notice, it'd be those creepy old men. And, hopefully, they're aware that it's pointed at this woman and now them. Though you doubt they'd care. Creeps like them rarely do.

The singer, with her eyes now pinned to you ⎯ though, everyone's now are ⎯ switches her tone a bit. Her song alters from an upbeat bar tempo with little meaning to having more directed lyrics to a girl with mesmerizing eyes. Again, nobody else picks up on this. She sings about a random girl with stunning eyes, never digressing past that.

But you know; and she knows. And that's all that matters.

She sings a certain line, something more lustful about the way you look at her. Something suggestive about the way she's imagining you. You instantly falter, your grip slipping.

You fall to the ground with a thud, the entire bar making a sound of disappointment and empathy. You don't care, though, not giving a single damn about the bull riding. All you care for is that fucking singer.

You hit the ground, breath knocked from your lungs. You cough, pushing yourself onto your hands and knees. Your head spins, the alcohol finally catching up to you. Another cough is yanked from your heaving chest as you groan.

The blonde coin-collecting woman allows the next person into the ring, not waiting for you to give your say. As the next man enters, he offers you his hand. You, desperate for assistance, take it with a grateful smile. He hauls you to your feet, muttering quick compliments on your performance on the bull. You thank him before brushing past him and exiting the ring with staggering steps.

A few people from the crowd compliment you, offering words of encouragement for the 'next time you go up'. You give them half-hearted smiles, chest still aching slightly from your fall.

You shove through the crowd, nearing the restrooms you'd seen at the entrance. You push the doors open and head into the women's side.

You brace your hands on the edge of the sink, glancing in the mirror for a brief moment ⎯ examining the small cut on your cheekbone and the bruises that are beginning to form on your shoulder and hip. You then lean down, positioning your mouth under the faucet before turning on the water. You drink it, relishing in the taste of cool liquid rather than burning alcohol.

"Mm, look who it is."

You smack your head on the faucet with how quickly you straighten. You groan, rubbing your temple as you turn to face the person standing behind you. The singer. Well fuck, that makes the head smack twenty times more embarrassing.

Somehow, she's even more alluring up close. Her pale green eyes bore into you, lashes lidding them slightly. Her skin is lightly tanned, freckles likely produced from a life spent under the sun. Her forearm has a tattoo covering the rippled skin there, lean muscles adorning the rest of said arm.

You play off your staring by narrowing your eyes at her, "Followin' me, are ya?"

"Nah." She shakes her head, stepping forward to wash her hands in the sink beside yours. She tips her head down, looking at her hands as she scrubs, hat coming to block her face from your view. Unfortunate. "Jus' comin' t' wash the filth off my hands. I wouldn't worry, though, darlin', I'm sure that Smilton boy'll check up on ya."

Your brows furrow at this. "Smillin boy?"

"Smilton." She corrects you rather harshly, looking up to meet your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. "Farmer's boy. Rich. Brunette. Helped y' up after the bull."

Realization hits you like a brick. She's jealous. This woman that you've never met, this woman that you stressed over impressing, this woman that you bruised yourself to get the attention of. She's jealous because some farmer's boy helped you stand up. A smirk tugs at your lips, an idea lighting your mind.

"Hmm," You hum lowly, brushing past her to dry your hands on one of the scratchy white towelettes. "He is quite handsome, ain't he?"

"Suppose." She replies shortly.

Your smirk only deepens, drying your hands achingly slow. Because you know she's aware that she has no right to be jealous. And that only serves to make her more pissed off. How interesting.

"What's his first name, if y' don't mind me askin'?" You speak casually, talking with her as though everything that passed between you two prior to this hadn't happened at all. It's driving her insane and you can tell.

"I dunno." She says, turning the faucet off to dry her hands beside you. "Somethin' with a J?"

"Oh, c'mon," you coo, turning to her with those eyes you know she adores. "I know y' know more than jus' his last name."

She looks away, clearing her throat with a set jaw, "you're right. Know his first initial too. It's a J."

You chuckle lightly, releasing the towelette to trace your fingertips along the soft skin of her bicep. "Yeah? And what's your first initial?"

Her entire body seems to tense, breath hitching in reaction to your touch. She looks at you from under the bridge of her hat, green eyes glinting with something informal. Something unfit for a casual conversation between two strangers in the women's rest room. You feel your heart stutter at the sight, having to make an effort not to fall to your knees before her in this very moment.

"E," is all she whispers.

"Last name?" You whisper back, matching her for quietude.

"Williams." She manages.

You hum, eyes following the movements of your hand. Had you not been so drunk, you'd likely never have the balls to be so flirty to her. But, as it turns out, your intoxication is good for something. Well, something aside from staying on some metal bull.

"How pretty," you whisper, leaning forward so your mouth is now right beside her ear. Your breath fans across her skin as you continue. "Now tell me your full name, will ya?"

Her eyes are pinned to your face, pupils tracing your features as your hand traces her arm. She finds herself mesmerized by you, entranced by your every detail ⎯ the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheek, the arc of your brow, the height of your cheekbones, the line of your jaw. She imagines running her tongue along each of these points, imagines committing your to memory using naught but her mouth.

"Ellie." She replies finally, watching closely as your eyes raise to meet hers. Her heart stutters in her chest at that, as it always does when you make eye contact.

Your gaze flicks between her eyes and lips, hand slowly inching up her arm. "Ellie?"

The sound of her name rolling off your tongue is enough to send a spark of heat to her core. That paired with the way your fingers are lightly tracing up, up, up. You move your hand over her shoulder, along her collarbone, up the side of her neck, and finally rests to cup her cheek in your palm. She leans into the touch, eyes fluttering.

"You're such a fuckin' tease," she mutters, voice low as it's weighed down by desire and a deep need to feel your skin on hers.

You ignore her words and move to lean in close enough that your noses brush. Then, with your breath fanning across her skin, you ask, "this okay?"

She doesn't say anything, instead abandoning the towelette completely and grabbing your face in both her hands. With a sudden sense of ferocity, she presses her lips to yours, pulling your body flush against hers.

"I'll take that as a yes," you chuckle between kisses.

"Quiet," she murmurs, too needy for your touch to have time for conversation. As much as she loves hearing you talk, shed much rather talk via action rather than actual words.

You giggle against her lips, your arms coming up to wrap around her neck. She hums, hat falling to the tiled floor with a light brush. With each passing second, her actions become more and more desirous, suddenly pushing your back against the nearest wall. You let out a huff of air from the impact, your lips quirking up to form a small smile, regaled by Ellie's sudden desperation for you.

She tilts her head, peppering kisses down your chin and along your jaw. They're harsh and hungry, nipping your skin in some places purely to see your brow furrow at the feel of her teeth.

As she trails down to your neck, you tip your head back against the wall and open your eyes to blink up at the wooden ceiling. Your hands fist Ellie's hair as she leaves bruises down the column of your throat.

Still well and drunk, the room swirls around you. The lights seem to shift with each blink, making this all so much more intoxicating. Your nerves are already on edge due to the alcohol, so the feel of Ellie kissing them is absolutely maddening.

You feel as she presses kisses along your collarbone, tongue grazing the taut skin there. You shift, legs pressing together as she grows more sensual in her act of quick intimacy. This movement doesn't go unnoticed by her, however, her lips quirking into a small smile against your skin as she feels rather proud of how quick she's turned you to putty under her.

She moves across the bare skin of your chest, plump lips taking time to memorize each detail that adorns you. You move again, the heat between your legs growing harder to ignore.

"Patience, darlin'." She instructs. "I'll get there when I get there."

You frown at this, "well get there faster."

Her kisses suddenly cease, looking up at you through her lashes. She tilts her head at you innocently, blinking as she waits for you to correct yourself. To reword your restive demand. "Don't be rude, now."

You can feel your dignity push at the back of your throat, pride yearning for a moment to speak. Seeing as you're normally the one making orders, this feels quite stranger. But, after the long journey you've taken, you suppose you've earned a bit of time to sit back and let someone else take the lead.

Ellie draws a line of kisses between your breasts and down your stomach, kneeling before you as her head comes to situate itself in front of your waistband. You can't help but admire how she looks from here, hair in your hands as her eyes are pinned to your denim jeans as though it's a buffet and she's a man starved. After a moment, she lifts her head to look at you.

Eye contact. Sparks shoot through your body. Somehow, something as simplistic as meeting Ellie's gaze can make you feel indescribably nervous. Pale green irises bore into you, waiting for you to utter words of consent. You do so, giving her the go-ahead.

As soon as you do, Ellie wastes no time hooking her fingers through your belt loops and pulling your jeans to your knees. She leans forward, eyes lidded.

"Wait." You pant, tugging on her hair to halt her movements. She seems rather annoyed by your sudden interruption, but looks up at you kindly despite her own irritation. You rolls your eyes at her evident pique. "What if someone walks in?"

She sighs heavily at that. "I locked the door."

"Oh, okay." You nod. Though, just as she's about to lean forward again, you stop her once more. "Wait. How did you know to lock it? You were all pissy when you first came in here."

"I didn't know." She explains hastily. "I simply hoped."

You huff out a chuckle, shaking your head fondly at her admittance. Then, finally, you don't stop her when she leans forward.

She traces her tongue along the outside of your underwear, the fabric between you only adding to the pulsing in your pussy. A shiver wracks through you, causing Ellie to grab you by the hips to hold you still. She traces circles into your hips with her thumbs, a gentle motion when compared to the needy movements of her tongue as she draws small circles into your clit.

You tighten your grip on her hair, drawing a grunt from the back of her throat. The vibrations from her mouth against your pussy makes it hard to keep back your own noises.

When she finally shifts your panties to the side, you nearly collapse at the feel of her mouth against you. She licks a long stripe up your vulva, a shaky breath yanking from you. The sound only urges her further, taking one hand and drags her middle finger up your center. You shift, leaning heavily against the wooden walls as standing upright suddenly seems impossible. Then, without warning, two fingers shove right into your hole.

Your hips jolt, moving far more than initially seeing as Ellie is now only holding on with one hand. Whilst thrusting her fingers in and out of your needy pussy, her tongue circles your clit with that same neediness, mirroring you for desperation.

Your head falls back, thudding lightly against then wall. At the sound, Ellie ceases. You almost whine at her sudden stopping.

"My eyes are down here, darlin'." She says lowly. "Let me see you."

Begrudgingly, you oblige, lowering your head to make eye contact with Ellie. She's on her knees, legs folded against tiled flooring as she resumes her lapping. You huff out an airy moan as you have to actively stop yourself from tipping your head back again. She holds your gaze the entire time, adding to the intensity of the feel. Her eyes are lidded, shoulder moving as her fingers recommence.

This all paired with your dizzy head and swimming vision makes for quite the climax, core knotting progressively as Ellie doesn't dare to stop. "Fuck," you pant as you buck your hips against her face, forced to watch as you do so. With another heavy breath and an arching back, you utter, "I'm⎯"

She seems exponentially proud as she hears you say this, regardless of if you finish your sentence or not. She pauses only for a moment to say, "yeah?"

"Mhm," you hum, though it comes out more of a moan than anything.

"Do it, darlin'."

And you do, coming undone right atop her face. She, admittedly, relishes in it, hydrated only by what you're able to provide her with. You see stars and they're swimming too, circling your head in a celestial body of pleasure. And Ellie watches, for once allowing your head to fall back as she deems this a one time exception. Because there will be a next time.

You're panting as you lower your head to face her once more, her gaze never having left your expression. She makes out with your pussy sensually as to bring you down from your high. Then, as gently as she can, she situates your panties back on correctly and pulls your jeans to rest as your hips, remaining knelt in front of you as she zips and buttons them just as she'd found them.

You watch with a twinkle of fondness behind your irises, unable to look away from the expression of adoring concentration she wears. She then uses your hips as a support system to haul herself back to her feet, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. You can nigh taste yourself on her.

"Not bad for a stranger at a sketchy bar." You muse, picking her hat from the floor and situating it atop her auburn tufts of hair. She watches you, analyzing your every move.

"I'm not just a stranger." She reminds you as your eyes find hers, your hands coming to drape around her shoulders. "I'm a stranger who wrote a song about you."

"Mm," you hum, "so you're a stalkers stranger?"

"I prefer the term passionate." She says, shooting you a playful scowl.

You chuckle, "passionate for what? Stalking and preying on drunken women?"

"Pfft-" She scoffs. "You're not drunk."

For a moment, you consider agreeing with her. To save her the pain of realizing you hadn't been sober for this. But you know better than to lie to her. So, through lidded eyes ⎯ ones that should have been a rather telltale sign of your intoxication ⎯ you give her a look, not even needing to voice the truth aloud for her to understand.

"Well fuck." She groans, taking a step backward and causing your arms to fall to your sides.

Frankly, you'd expected her to be much more angered than that. Because you know you would be. After writing a song, chasing down, then tongue-fucking someone in the bathroom, the worst news to receive would be that they'd been wasted the entire time.

"I'm sorry," you're quick to apologize, for some reason feeling the need to earn her forgiveness.

"How're you planning to get home?" She asks.

"I hadn't thought about that." You admit.

"How about this," she suggests, "I give you a place to stay to apologize for fucking you while drunk and you let me take you to dinner tomorrow to apologize for not telling me beforehand. Deal?"

A smirk works its way to your mouth, "deal."

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist @autisticintr0vert @bunchogravie @thefirstromantics @kissrotten @natgf123 @elliespinkyandringfingers @elyaaaaaaaa @love7poetry @alex-awesome-22 @soodle-noup @mellifluousgirll @thankynext

[orionremastered]

I’m actually so obsessed with the way you write the boys like🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾🫶🏾

why thank you anon this made me smile

and because im nice (school hasn't started yet)

Masterlist

911 Texting the Batboys

Dick Grayson

Exactly one minute after you send him the text, the living room window shatters into a million pieces across the floor. Nightwing calls your name, voice raw with concern, before surveying the state of your apartment.

"Oh," you say quietly by the kitchen, staring at the broken pieces of glass across the floor and then at your boyfriend who stares at you, chest heaving as he looks at you, confused.

"You're not hurt?"

"Well— I— the pan caught fire. I put it out though. I'm not burnt, I promise."

He looks at you doubtfully, storming over before pulling you into a tight embrace. "You scared me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper.

"Don't be. It's okay. Don't be scared to text me if you're in any trouble. Promise you'll let me know if you're in danger?"

"I promise."

"Good," he mutters, though more as a reassurance for himself, resting his head on yours and breathing deeply.

"You can let me go now," you point out gently.

"Two more minutes."

Jason Todd

When your boyfriend takes longer to show up than expected, you start to get confused. And cold— it's the middle of winter and your hoodie was stolen while you were out with your friends.

And that wouldn't be a problem if you're car wasn't starting either.

The familiar roar of a motorcycle engine catches your attention, dark shape speeding down the street towards you. It skids to a stop, the tires screeching in order to slow.

"Hey," you say with a wave and a smile. "Car broke down and—"

Red Hood rushes off his motorbike, carefully grabbing you to look you over in the empty street. When he finds nothing, he sighs. "Thought you'd been kidnapped. Couldn't find you at your apartment."

Without waiting for your reply, he shrugs his brown leather jacket off his shoulders and places it around yours, helping you put your arms into the sleeves despite you protesting that you can do it yourself.

"Let's get you home," he says gruffly, aching to hold you in his embrace when no one can see. "I'll call in a favour to get your car fixed."

Tim Drake

You don't think you'd ever been more embarrassed in your life when you realised you forgot your phone, which has your card in the case, at home.

Tim rushes into the store, having tracked your location immediately and driving well over the speed limit, still in his pristine CEO outfit.

"What's wrong? Is someone bothering you?" his eyes dart around the store, taking everyone's face and putting it to memory.

"No... I forgot my phone and card. And I have a full cart of groceries. Tim, I can't put this all back, that's weird."

"Why didn't you ask me to pay before?"

"I— hmm. I'll do that next time."

You lead him to the counter were the high school aged cashier gapes at the richest man in Gotham who pays for the food without even glancing at the price.

Damian Wayne

When you texted 911 to your boyfriend, you certainly weren't expecting this. Somehow, in the five minutes of the text being sent, he managed to gather ten League of Assassins members that now stand in your suddenly very cramped apartment, sharp katanas at their side.

"Are you alright?" Damian himself has two katanas, glinting in the terrible lights. "What's wrong?"

It seems so stupid now with ten assassins behind him. Maybe you shouldn't have texted after all. "Look, it's really—"

"I don't care how little it is," he states, "You texted me for a reason."

"I... I thought I could hear someone talking and moving in the walls."

All eleven of them tense, exchanging glances. Damian gives them one sharp nod and the assassins begin locating any hollow spaces in the walls, tapping their knuckles and listening closely to the sounds.

"وجدت ذلك," one says after a few seconds.

"Don't worry about it habibi, we'll tear the building apart and find them," Damian assures you, pulling you into his arms.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for wearing a flimsy shirt and flashing my husband's friends?

Ok. So the key players here are. Me (25F), my husband (27M) and our friends who are all around our ages.

I run a D&D game on sunday evenings for my husband and 4 of our shared friends. 2 of them are big dudes and 2 are women, but we live in a basement suite and having 6 people in it makes it heat up fast. This is on an average day.

Recently, our landlord got our heating fixed. We didn't realize it was broken and blamed the cold in the suite on it being a basement. When it's just us it got pretty chilly in there pre-fixing. After the furnace was fixed, our landlord (who lives in the upstairs suite) absolutely cranked the heat to compensate for a recent week-long cold snap in our area.

As a result, it's been sweltering hot in our suite (like, i've been wearing a tank top and underwear as my at home loungewear because anything more is torture). I anticipated the high heat being a problem before the gang came over this past Sunday, but I knew I had to wear pants bc obvs. I decided i'd wear a loose flowy tank top though, just so i didnt absolutely die from the heat.

Here comes the problem. We play DND on our admittedly low to the ground coffee table. As i bent over to set up a map, my shirt fell a little too far and revealed too much. I didnt notice when it was happening until my husband pointed it out by making a joke about it. I was like "oops" and took greater care to crouch instead of bend over for the rest of the session, so as not to accidentally flash anybody again. I didnt think anything else of it and nobody said anything.

The next day, my husband was quiet and not really engaging with me, and I thought he was just tired because he gets like that when he's tired. I went to work. About 5 hours into the work day, i get a text from him saying "Just so you know, and I know I have voiced how I feel about this before, but you flashing my friends is a MAJOR turn off for me"

I was confused at first, but then realized he was referring to the accidental flashing on Sunday night. But it wasnt just his friends, it was mine too, and it wasn't on purpose. Like i wasnt doing it for kink or anything. I also am bothered by him implying i've done this before, as I dont remember ever doing something like that. Before anyone asks, I have body dysmorphia and deeply hate my appearance so it doesnt make sense to me that I would have flashed people before and just forgotten.

But im autistic so i sometimes dont know limits for appropriate behaviour. Which is why im asking AITA for wearing a flowy tank top in our very warm house and accidentally flashing people when i bent over?

What are these acronyms?

[stealingyourbones]

Hey Bones, I saw your thing about a Bat family member becoming a ghost and it reminded me of a very heart breaking au a friend and I came up with a while back that I don't remember if I submitted or not. Either way, be prepared to have your heart broken.

Tim is dead. He's been dead for a while actually. But No one seems to have noticed. He looks and feels just as solid as he did before he died, even if he's got a lower body temperature and doesn't seem to get hurt on patrol beyond bumps and bruises. Never anything that would land him in med Bay, never anything that would make his family check on him.

No one has noticed the way he doesn't eat anymore, or the fact he doesn't sleep. He's extended his patrol hours and cut back on time at Wayne Enterprises. He's pretty sure not even Alfred noticed. He knows the Kryptonians aren't worried about him not having a heart beat and they have no reason to tell anyone. They know he has a special device that can hide him from their senses and tests it on Kon a lot to make him focus on spacial awareness beyond his hearing. He used it a lot before he died. They just think he hasn't turned it off in a while.

Tim remembers how he died. Not fully, but there are pieces. He remembers he was fighting someone on a bridge and he didn't call for back up because he thought he could handle it. He doesn't remember who he thought he could handle. He remembers something stinging his arm. A bug? No a bug couldn't bite through Kevlar, it was a needle. Then everything started going dark and he was stumbling back. His back hit something hard and he tiped over it. He thought he could land on the other side. He remembers wondering why his suit felt so damp and heavy as the world went black around him.

Tim's body is still at the bottom of the bay where it will likely stay forever with so, so many other bodies. It makes Tim wonder, why him? Why not everyone else who ended up down there? Why not everyone who has died in Gothem? Did he come back like Jason did, is it something to do with being a vigilante? Tim checks his own pulse again while he's alone. Yep. Still dead. He continues on his patrol and tries to shove those thoughts away.

So what if Tim's dead? He's still here and he still has work to do. His family is full of detectives. If they can't figure out that something as important as death has happened to one of their own? Well then Tim thinks they need to pay more attention. He ignores the pain that curls in the back of his mind at that thought.

It's been 6 months. Why hasn't anyone noticed? Tim can't help but wonder if they ever will.

Howdy its me @bonebrokebuddy answering. I'm Twone's (twin bones) twin who is helping answer asks because this fucker has like, over 100 of them in her ask box and I help her with making prompt ideas frequently so she trusts me to not horribly fuck up her account.

This is my first answer for her I've written because I had my screen on low brightness and on darkmode, so your profile jump scared the shit out of me when I scrolled past it. Therefore im answering this one first.

Anywho, from my chronic inability to write angst here goes: Tim died, came back and none of the Bats seemed to care. So what? It's not like his best friends hadn't done the same thing. And he was tired and sick of the Bats thinking his entire life revolved around them.

So he packed up his bags and headed to Kansas.

The Bats might not be worried but neither was Kon or Bart. They're actually thrilled after getting over their initial grief that Tim now has also personally experienced death and came back. The funeral was a rather small, breif, and quiet afar. Kon made sure to help locate Tim's corpse and Bart helped with the eulogy (surprisingly heartfelt and moved them all to tears.)

Sure, they're sad that Tim died but he's right in front of them, it's a little more difficult to morn when you've been laughing at said dead guy who got stuck halfway through phasing out of the wall. And now Tim can keep track with them!

Kon is a little pissed that Tim can now go intangible and escape his TTK so he can't take away Tim's coffee anymore. But it's kinda worth it. The first time he took Rob on his favorite flight path, he's never wanted anything else than to hear Tim's breathless laugh and see his frighteningly perfect smile again. They now often go on flights together, high above the clouds with no-one else but them for thousands of miles around. (it almost felt like a date)

Bart knew this would happen one day. He was from the future, of course he knew that Tim Drake, formerly Red Robin, died at age 19 and changed his alias to The Grey Ghost. It doesn't mean that Bart doesn't morn the passing of his friend. Tim means a lot to him and the brief guilt that he did not stop Tim's death also quickly passes. He can finally show Tim that hiding space in the walls that no one else can get to without phasing through the wall! One other thing. Bart is unsure if Kon has noticed yet, which he knows Kon isn't the most observant of the old young justice crew but he has to have noticed it by now. Ever since Tim left Gotham he's developed an insane appetite despite claiming that he didn't need to eat while in Gotham and also being dead so why does he need to eat? (Unknown to Bart, Kansas doesn't have as much ambient ectoplasm as Gotham and Tim is starting to experience the withdraw symptoms. If the trio don't realize how to fix Tim's worsening symptoms soon, Tim might actually die for good this time.)

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Breeding the Winter Soldier"

Rated: Explicit

Word Count: 7893

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: a/b/o, Omega Bucky, Alpha Steve, Hydra wins, dark AU, forced mating, breeding program, coerced sex, restraints, heats/ruts, forced to fuck, past Bucky x Brock, HTP adjacent, mind control, anal sex, hurt/comfort (mostly comfort)

A.N.: this was written all the way back in 2017!

Breeding the Winter Soldier

“Looks like they gave Cap his assignment,” Rollins chuckles from where he’s sitting, boots propped up on the observation room’s control panel. “Doesn’t seem too happy about being told he’s gotta breed ‘im.”

Brock scoffs lightly, unable to help himself from lighting up out of frustration as he stares through the one-way glass window at their prisoner. Smoking isn’t allowed inside the facility, but that’s never stopped Brock. “This is bullshit,” he complains around the cigarette between his lips, tossing the spent match to the floor as he gets a good first lungful of nicotine. Beyond the window, Captain fucking America—or what used to be Captain America— is pacing, pacing, pacing, distressed at the news. Brock seethes quietly. “Project Genesis is mine. He was supposed to be mine.”

And now Steven Grant Rogers is the one they want instead. The superior choice, apparently, for siring little super-soldiers. Brock had broken whatever he’d been holding when he’d first heard the order come down—a coffee mug, he thinks it was. The order strictly reassigned him as handler only to the asset, the one to supervise the project. Supervise. Brock cringes at the restriction of the word. He’s been the asset’s commanding officer for going on five years now. Unofficially, he’s been his alpha for two. He’s the one who knows the asset, understands him. He’s the only one who knows how to make him work right, how to get through to him. He’s the one who cares about him, who satisfies him through his heats. And now Hydra is forcing him to give that all away?

His mate is going to be so confused.

Rollins tells him to chill. “I’m sure they’ll still let you fuck around with him once he’s pupped a few litters.”

“That’s not the fucking point!” Brock roars, angry but not at Rollins. Jack seems to know this, as he doesn’t move at all from his lazy posture in the chair. “He’s my omega. I’m perfectly capable of breeding him, if that’s what they want.”

Rollins shrugs. “You ain’t got that super soldier sperm.”

“Captain. Hail Hydra.”

Steve looks up from where he’s been eating his breakfast and frowns at the sight of Rumlow. It’s strange and upsetting to see people that he knew from before. People who he’d thought were the good guys. Brock looks the same as he did a year ago. Same haircut, same face, same tactical gear that he used to wear when he was on Shield’s Strike team, when he was Steve’s friend. Only now there is no Shield, and there are no friends. Now they all belong to Hydra whether they want to or not.

“Hail Hydra,” Steve mumbles into the cold milk of his cereal.

“Gotta come with me, Cap,” Rumlow tells him. “Today’s the day.”

Steve looks up at him, eyes angry and tired. “I’m not doing it,” he says. He’s fucking not doing it. They can’t make him.

“I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rumlow calls in the four guards that he’s brought with him and has them stand there with their stun batons as a warning for Steve. Before, they never would’ve been enough to keep him subdued. But that was before. Steve knows it’ll be no use trying to fight them off. He lets his spoon drop into the cereal bowl.

They take him down to the wing where they keep Bucky, to a room with a bed, a minifridge and an exam chair. It’s a heat suite, where they intend to force him to do this, Steve supposes. Bucky’s not there. There’s a tech waiting for them and when Steve lays eyes on the prepped syringes he tenses, tries to turn around. He winds up with a stun baton jammed to his neck and the next thing he knows he’s restrained in the chair. The tech is bringing a needle over and Steve pulls with all his might against the mag restraints. They don’t budge. “Relax,” Rumlow says. He’s standing beside Steve. “It’s just something to help you.”

“Help me how?” Steve asks, afraid. He’s already drugged up six ways to Sunday. Drugs to keep him weak, drugs to keep him dazed, drugs to keep him calm. If he didn’t heal so rapidly his inner arms would look like pincushions by now. The injections erase who he is, erase any possibility of a fight, let alone an escape. He doesn’t want any more injections.

“Something to kickstart your rut,” Brock says. He points to the other needles, one by one. “An aphrodisiac. A benzo to lower your inhibitions. Hormones to increase the chances of conceiving.”

Steve sneers. “I’m not doing it. I’m not hurting him.”

“You sure as hell better not,” Brock tells him, and there’s something about the way that he says it that has Steve paying closer attention. Steve takes notice of how tense Rumlow seems, upset almost. He smells the sour tint of possessiveness rolling off of him. “He’s mine,” Brock says. It’s obvious he’s not talking about his role as Bucky’s handler.

Steve squints for a moment. “…No,” he says, eyes widening. Rumlow smirks when he sees that Steve is finally figuring it out. “You’ve had him.”

“Wow. Took you long enough Cap. Thought you would’ve at least smelled him on me, all the times I fucked him before passing you in the hall.”

Steve grits his teeth, fury building in him in a way that he didn’t think was possible, not with all of the mood stabilizers Hydra’s got him on. “You fucking raped him?!” The tech comes over and jabs Steve while he’s distracted, not that he can move much in the restraints anyway. The needle stings going in, but the anger coursing through him is worse than the cold flush of medicine through his veins.

Brock looks at Steve with contempt. “I’m his handler. He hasn’t been raped since I started caring for him.”

Steve pants in his seat, feeling his temperature start to climb as the drugs work into his system. “Is that what you call it?” he sneers. “You think you’re taking care of him?”

“I know you’re not happy about this,” Brock tells him. “But let me tell you something: neither am I.”

“What are you talking about?”

Brock tells the tech to get out of the room. He orders the AI system that they stole from Stark Industries to stop monitoring them. Once they’re all alone he tells Steve, “He’s mine, Rogers.” Steve growls at him and that makes Rumlow roll his eyes. He drags a stool over to sit right in front of where Steve is restrained. “What you’re participating in? It’s called Project Genesis.”

“Yeah, trying to make baby supersoldiers, I get it,” Steve snaps. “I’m not doing it.”

“It’s the only fucking reason you’re alive right now,” Brock tells him. “And it’s the only reason he’s not gathering dust in some cryo vault.”

Steve can’t suppress his frown. “What?”

Brock sighs. “You’ve both been decommissioned. Hydra is a major world power now. One or two enhanced assets aren’t worth our time anymore. An army of supersoldiers, however, is. That’s what he’s still useful for.”

“You son of a bitch.”

“Yeah? How do you think I feel?” Brock snaps. “I was the one who was supposed to breed him. Was working on it just fine till they brought you in. I’m sure you think he’ll be happy to see you but let me tell you, he won’t.” Brock can smell the change coming over the other alpha, can smell his body ramping up for a rut. Beneath the scent of sex hormones is the sour tinge of chemicals. It makes Brock want to curl his nose and bare his teeth in a challenge, or maybe turn away to escape the smell altogether. “He doesn’t know you Cap, and you’re just going to scare him if you come at him acting like he should be glad to see you.”

Steve glares at him. “He does remember me. He knew me on the helicarrier.” Bucky had known him. He had.

But Brock shakes his head. “No. He only has bits and pieces Rogers. He’s my omega. I bonded to him years ago.”

Steve growls and pulls at his restraints again. “No!”

“Calm the fuck down!” Brock leans in closer. He looks mad. Smells mad too. “This isn’t about you or me. It’s not up to us. Do you think I’d let you touch him if it was?”

“He’s not yours,” Steve grits out. “And I’m not going to touch him.”

Brock huffs. “You wait till those drugs kick in, you’ll be singing a different tune.” He looks at Steve seriously. “And just so you know, he’s already in heat.”

Steve’s eyes widen at that. “What?”

“Yeah. He’s hot and aching and he knows what his mission is. He’s not going to fight it,” Brock says. “But he’s expecting me. He’s expecting someone that he knows to help him feel better. And he’s going to be confused when I bring him in here and tell him that he has to let another alpha fuck him. A stranger. So I need for you to calm down. I don’t want him scared. You and I are going to talk to him together and you’re going to be gentle with him.”

Steve can feel arousal building in himself, and it’s strange to feel that while he’s sitting there next to Rumlow, being told all of this. The chemically-induced rut is coming on fast. “Shit,” he curses, head falling back to the chair behind him. He can feel himself firming up beneath the thin cotton of his sleep pants and he hates that he can’t hide it from Rumlow. “I can’t do this. Please don’t make me do this.”

“Get it together Cap,” Rumlow snaps, unhappy.

“Fuck you!” Steve spits.

Brock sighs. “I was hoping you’d shut up but I can see that’s not going to happen. He crosses the room only to return with a gag in his hands. He forces Steve’s jaw open and presses the ball gag in, saying nothing about the fight Steve puts up. Once it’s secured and Steve is heaving angry breaths at him, Brock says, “I’m going to get him now. If you care about him at all you won’t make this worse for him than it has to be.” He gets up and leaves through the room’s only door and Steve is forced to wait long minutes, panting and sweating at the oncoming rush of a forced rut.

The asset is relieved when its handler comes to retrieve it. It entered its heat hours ago and has had to wait, alone and aching, in the little room. “Come on James,” the handler says when the asset stands from its little cot, and the asset remembers that this is supposed to be its name. He’s never heard it before—not from anyone besides his handler. It's probably invented, but he likes that he uses it. Even if it’s made up, it’s something special between just the two of them.

Now they’ll go to the other room, the one where they always go when he is to be bred. James looks forward to it because he knows it’ll make him feel better. Brock (that’s his handler’s name. He’s allowed to use it when they’re alone) will give him everything he needs, will knot him and hopefully fill him with pups. That’s their mission. So far they’ve been unsuccessful but the asset thinks it’s because his heats used to be so unpredictable. Now he’s been out of cryo long enough that he’s cycling regularly again, his body ready for a pregnancy.

The asset has never thought about reproducing. An assassin doesn’t think of such things, a weapon certainly doesn’t. But James does. James doesn’t mind his new mission. He hasn’t told his handler, but he secretly prefers serving Hydra this way over what he used to do. This way he doesn’t have to go into the cold. And they don’t wipe him. And there’s someone who cares for him—his alpha. Deep down, he secretly likes the idea of having a baby, something that’s his that isn’t garbage or government-issued. Something that’s all his. He doesn’t tell his handler about this either.

They enter the other room and there is someone else there. It’s a man, an alpha. He’s restrained and in rut, that much is clear right away. The asset is nearly knocked back by the abrupt smell of him. Brock notices and laughs, reaching to grab him by the arm and pull him closer. “Easy babe.”

The asset scans his eyes over the man on the chair. He’s big. Tall and muscled, with blond hair and handsome features. He’s clearly upset. He struggles against his bonds as they approach, making useless sounds through the gag in his mouth. The asset looks questioningly at Brock. “Who is he?” He’s not really supposed to ask questions unprompted, but over time he’s learned that it’s okay with his handler, with Brock.

“His name is Captain Rogers,” Brock says. “Former SHIELD operative. He’s an enhanced like you are.”

The asset nods. He was unaware that there were others like himself. There used to be a program, but it had failed. He can remember helping, being tasked with training a group of men and women to make them stronger, better. But they’d gone wild and had been eliminated. The mission had failed.

“We have new orders,” Brock tells him, and this is when he takes his hand, squeezes it reassuringly. James purrs at the contact, moves to begin removing his clothes as is expected of him. But Brock stops him. “Wait, babe.”

The man in the chair growls at the pet name and James whines. He doesn’t want the other alpha to be there. He wants to be naked, in a bed, under his mate. “I’m hot,” he points out. “I need to get undressed.”

“You can,” Brock tells him. He pets the side of James’ face. “But I’m not going to be here with you.”

The asset frowns in confusion. “What?” He doesn’t understand. This is the breeding room. James is in heat. It’s their mission—they’ll be punished if they don’t complete it. The asset tilts his head, baring his neck, trying to show his alpha how ready he is. “Alpha please,” he whines. He’d hit the floor and present if not for the other alpha in the room. “I’m in heat. I need it.”

Brock shushes him, gentles a hand down his side. It feels good but it’s not nearly enough. “I know baby, I know. You’ll get a knot, just not mine.” The asset is confused again, but only for a second. His eyes dart over to where the other alpha is bound. Brock sees this and he nods, “Yeah baby, you’re going to mate with him.”

“What?” A low noise of distress leaves James’ throat, unbidden. He’s not supposed to make noises like that. But Brock never punishes him for such mistakes, not when it’s just the two of them. “No. You’re supposed to do it. You’re my mate,” he says, feeling scared. He’s not supposed to argue with directions. “Alpha?” he says, trying to press his nose into Brock’s neck, trying to ignore the other man in the room. “The mission,” he urges. “Breed me. Put pups in me.”

But Brock just kisses his temple and sets him back firmly. “Sorry babe,” he says. “It’s orders.”

Steve tries to speak through the gag but of course it’s no use.

He is forced to sit there and watch as Rumlow comes into the room with Bucky, holding his hand, for Christ’s sake. Bucky doesn’t seem to mind at all. He makes a pleased sound whenever Brock touches him, and when he calls him pet names. Steve feels his guts lurch at the obvious show of affection between them. He feels jealously flare up in his core like a rabid animal, wanting to kill the other alpha for touching Bucky, for trying to claim the omega that should be his.

That, he knows, is his rut talking. It’s gotten worse in the past ten minutes since Brock left him here, tied to the exam chair and gagged. Steve’s skin itches and his pulse throbs. Between his legs, he’s hard. And now that Bucky has come into the room, now that Steve can smell him, it’s so much worse. Bucky smells like damp, cloying earth. He smells like dark, cramped spaces and tangled up bodies. He smells like something Steve wants to bury his face in and not come up for air from. Steve takes one look at him and feels the urge to chase him, catch him, pin him down come unbidden. All he can do is wiggle ineffectively in his bonds.

In front of him, Brock is telling Bucky that he has to mate with Steve. Steve’s heart clenches when Bucky looks over to him, tense and afraid. His eyes do not hold recognition. Steve listens as Bucky pleads and whines to Brock, calling him his alpha, begging him to breed him instead. And Brock fucking comforts him, pets him and gives him a kiss and tells him it’s okay. Bucky looks like he never wants to leave Brock’s side. Steve clenches his eyes shut at the sight.

“Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes open. Brock is standing right in front of him. Bucky is still hanging back, looking unsure. “You see?” Brock says, and he’s not bragging or gloating or anything. He’s just trying to get Steve to listen. “He’s used to being with me, Cap. He doesn’t know you. Now are you gonna behave if I take that gag out? Not going to upset him?”

Steve glares at Rumlow, but after a moment manages a terse nod. The gag gets removed, and Steve takes a moment to swallow the spit in his mouth, lick his lips and crack his jaw. “Thanks,” he grunts, not feeling at all thankful.

Rumlow nods, chucks the gag away. “I’m not going to let you up from that chair yet,” he tells Steve. “That I’ll do remotely, once I’m out of the room.”

Steve sneers. “What? You afraid to be alone with me?”

Brock raises his eyebrows. “First of all, I’m not alone.” He nods back to Bucky. “I’ve got him. Don’t let his role in our breeding program fool you; he’s still perfectly capable of ending a man with his bare hands. If I give him the order to, that is. Secondly, I’m not going to let you out of that chair while I’m in the room because you’re in rut. A rut that we chemically engineered to match his heat. You’re geared up to attack any alpha that comes near him.”

Steve scoffs. “I’ve got better control than you, animal.”

Brock looks back at Bucky and calls him over, but he calls him James, and that rankles Steve more than anything else yet. “Come here James,” Rumlow says. He holds out his arm and Bucky comes over obediently. “This is Steve. He’s not a big fan of mine, I’m sure you can tell.”

“Bucky,” Steve says urgently. “Bucky I’m not going to hurt you. Okay? Don’t worry.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” Bucky murmurs to Brock.

Brock glares at Steve. “I told you Cap. He doesn’t know any of that.” Brock pulls Bucky closer, encourages him to go up and touch Steve where he’s restrained to the chair. “Go ahead babe. You heard him: he won’t hurt you. Have a look at him.”

Bucky does. He inches closer until his leg hits the side of the chair. He reaches forward with careful fingers, as if Steve is a wild animal that might bite. Bucky’s eyes are cold and calculating as they pass over Steve, no recognition to them. Not like Steve wants. “He’s healthy,” Bucky murmurs, almost as if he’s afraid to say it. “Strong.” Behind, Brock chuckles a little.

“Yeah he is. Don’t worry though. He won’t be rough on you.” Brock meets Steve’s eyes over Bucky’s head. “I have it on good authority. He’s going to be real gentle.”

Bucky doesn’t react to this, and Steve feels as if he can hardly breathe as Bucky continues to examine him. He touches Steve’s arms, his legs, his chest. Steve is still clothed, but the touches ramp up the desire that the drugs have kickstarted. In his pants, he’s hard as a rock. Bucky leans down and sticks his nose into Steve’s neck, scenting at the glands there. It’s all Steve can do not to moan where he’s sitting, all he can do not to try and thrust his hips up the way his body wants to. After a long inspection, Bucky seems to make up his mind about Steve. He stands back and away, looks to Brock. “He’ll sire good pups. I understand why he’s been chosen.” He nods once to show his obedience in the matter. “I’ll complete the mission.”

Brock smiles at him. “Good boy.”

“Buck you don’t have to do anything these sacks of shit tell you to—”

“Cap,” Rumlow warns, “That ain’t the way. He WILL do what we tell him to. And if you’re resisting, he’ll take you by force. That how you want this to go?”

Steve grimaces at the threat, imagining the absurdity of Bucky raping him. “He should have a choice,” Steve tells Rumlow darkly, hating the man with every fiber of his being. “Does this make you proud?” he asks. “Treating him like a thing? Violating him?” Steve forces himself to meet Rumlow’s eyes in an imploring manner. “You said that you mated him. If that’s true, is this really what you want for him?”

Rumlow shakes his head, looks at Steve as if he’s incredibly thickheaded. “You just don’t get it, do ya Cap?” He walks over, takes a hold of Bucky’s neck and pulls him in for a deep kiss. Steve watches the display with horror, especially once Bucky brings both of his hands up to cradle Rumlow’s jaw. Brock pulls away from Bucky, their lips separating with a pop, and he glares at Steve. “This isn’t about ‘want’. It’s about following orders.” With that he pushes Bucky up to stand close to Steve, turning away before either man can stop him. “Now just shut up, lay back, and get him pregnant,” he throws over his shoulder as he walks out the door.

James tries not to feel anything when his mate leaves the room. He tries to slip back into the mindset of the Asset, a place where feelings are irrelevant. Brock has explained the parameters of the mission, has given the soldier his orders. Now James will execute. He tips his ear towards the door, his enhanced hearing helping him to pick up on the sounds of many intricate locking mechanisms being set. He flicks his gaze back up to the body of the other man—the man they’ve chosen to sire his pups.

James wants to sneer, feels like maybe he does. He shuffles uncomfortably in place, wetness already growing sticky and cool where it’s seeped into the back of his pants. He wonders if Captain Rogers can smell it. Stepping close to the chair where he’s restrained, James examines the mag cuffs that hold him in place. They’re similar to the ones that his handlers use on him. It makes James wonder just how strong this man is. Brock had said he was enhanced. He tilts his head in curiosity.

“… Bucky—”

“Directive clarification,” James calls out to the room, ignoring whatever the Captain had been about to say to him. James doesn’t wait for a response; he knows they’re being watched. “Am I to mount him like this?” he asks, not particularly caring either way. He shouldn’t care about this stranger’s comfort during the act—he’s not Brock. The soldier has his orders and James has no choice. He has to do it. A quick glance shows him what he can already smell: Captain Rogers is fully erect beneath his clothing. On the chair or in a bed, he’ll be easy enough for James to take inside of his body. But a crackle comes through the speakers in the ceiling, echoing Brock’s voice into the room:

“Use the bed if you want. He’s been chemically subdued so he shouldn’t be able to put up much a fight. Releasing mag cuffs in three, two...”

In the next second the restraints on the chair click open, and James turns back in time to see Captain Rogers pulling his arms away from the chair. He sits up, swinging his legs over the side. His bare feet touch the floor but he remains perched on the chair’s edge. For the first time, James realizes that the Captain is dressed in sleeping clothes. A standard issue tee shirt and cotton pants are all he wears. “Bucky,” he says again, holding out an arm in James’ direction. It is unclear if the gesture is meant to beckon James closer or to keep him at bay. James is not unaware that, omega or not, he presents a threatening image to most men. With this in mind he narrows his stance, draws his shoulders down to seem as small and nonthreatening as possible. Hopefully this will keep the Captain from trying to do something as counterproductive as running, or fighting.

“I realize you don’t recognize me, but don’t be scared. I’m not going to hurt you. My name’s Steve.

James blinks at him. He takes stock of the situation. Captain Rogers—Steve—has been made aware of his role in the breeding program. He’s been given his orders just like James has, but he’s resisting. James can smell it on him, the warring scents of desire and disgust. James steps closer, tilting his head to the side once he’s just in front of him. “Smell that?” he asks, being sure to keep his eyes cast down. The Captain’s hands are clenched tightly by his sides as James bares his neck in a submissive gesture. “Come on,” he says as gently as he can. “Alpha?”

“Don’t,” Steve bites out. He sounds pained. “Don’t call me that Buck.”

James bites his cheek, thinking he may just have to use physical force if this man won’t listen. “You’re in forced rut,” he says, trying again. “That can’t feel good.”

Steve huffs an abortive laugh. “Yeah.”

“You’re flushed,” James tells him. There is perspiration all along the collar of Steve’s tee. “And you’re hot. Burning-up-inside hot. Believe me I know how it feels. When you’re so desperate that you’re miserable?” He reaches for the hem of his own shirt, pulls it quickly over his head. He knows that the movement makes his scent burst into the air. Now his top half is exposed and James has to hold in the sigh that wants to come at the relief of having that much less clothing on his body. He tosses his shirt aside. In front of him, Steve’s nostrils are flaring. “It doesn’t have to be like that,” he tells him, “You can have me. It’ll help.”

Steve’s fingers sink into the chair’s cushion, little bits of foam padding ripping out and falling to the floor. His scent is soaring—a deep, rich scent like copper and burnt wood. James grits his teeth at the sudden urge to drop and present. He slowly reaches out with his flesh hand and touches Steve’s thigh. “Why are you afraid?” he asks. It’d be nice to know. Everyone always seems to know more than he does…

“I can’t hurt you like this Buck. I just can’t.”

James shushes him, ignores the continued use of that nonsensical name, Bucky. “You won’t,” he soothes, pulling lightly at the fabric of Steve’s pants in an effort to get him to slide off the chair. “I’m in heat. I’m ready. It won’t hurt.”

Steve scoffs, but he does allow himself to be moved. Standing barefoot, they come eye to eye. “That’s not the kind of hurt I meant.”

James ignores the clench his heart gives as he thinks of Brock. He wonders if his alpha is watching from another room, observing them through a little camera. He hopes not. “Come here,” James says, pulling Steve forward. Steve’s hands find their way to his hips, and James feels more slick rush out of his body at the contact. He whimpers without meaning to. “Scent me,” he says, tilting his head again. He’s pressing up against Steve, their bodies connected from thigh to chest. He can feel the alpha’s erection and he’s certain that Steve can feel his. But that hardly matters as Steve releases an answering growl somewhere in his throat. His head dips down and he buries his nose in the crook of James’ neck. James’ breath leaves him in a satisfied puff. He’s been in heat for nearly twenty-four hours with no relief until now. He’d been expecting Brock, his mate, but the mission has changed.

His body has already decided for him, he realizes. It doesn’t matter that this isn’t Brock. Doesn’t matter that it’s a stranger who’s been selected to put pups in him. James’ body recognizes this Steve for what he is; a strong, virile alpha.

The Asset grabs Steve with his metal hand, pushing him towards the bed before the other man can protest.

Steve stumbles over his own feet, not having been prepared for the rough grab and push of Bucky’s metal arm. He falls gracelessly back onto the room’s bed with a grunt. Bucky doesn’t give him time to recover. He’s there in a flash, one hand planted in the center of Steve’s chest and the other yanking down his pants. Bucky tosses them to the floor and reaches for Steve’s shirt. But Steve isn’t having it. He grabs Bucky’s arms and attempts to fight him. They grapple for all of three seconds before Bucky has him pinned, and Steve is panting furiously. The drugs make him so much weaker than before. With Bucky’s metal arm in play he doesn’t stand a chance. Begging is all he’s got left, it seems. “Please,” he says, staring imploringly. “You don’t want to do this.”

Bucky ignores him completely. He rips Steve’s tee shirt down the front like it’s paper, pulls it off of him and throws it somewhere in the general vicinity of where the pants had gone. Leaning forward over Steve’s now-naked body, he gives a very un-omega like growl. “Stay down.” He stands up and divests himself of the boots he’s wearing, then his pants.

Of course Steve doesn’t listen. He manages to prop himself up by the time Bucky’s taking his underwear off, and the scent that hits Steve then is so strong it makes him clench his eyes shut. “Fuck.” He can’t look at Bucky, he can’t or he’ll lose his shit. The bed dips and Steve jerks as Bucky pulls him to lie down again, too much naked skin pressed up along his own. “Bucky, don’t—” He’s cut off by lips crashing down on his own. Bucky wastes no time in forcing his way, mouthing and biting at Steve to make him open up. His hands pull at Steve’s hair and he fucks his tongue lewdly into his mouth. A garbled noise that probably would have been a moan had it been allowed to form leaves Steve, his hands grabbing the first part of Bucky they can find—his hips. Steve pulls on Bucky, whether to bring him closer or push him away he’s not sure, but he winds up tugging the other man fully atop him, and the second Steve feels him start rolling his hips downwards, he’s lost.

Bucky breaks the kiss, pulling away. Steve opens his eyes to see the omega staring at him, eyes a hard grey. He’s still fucking downwards, rubbing himself off against the crest of Steve’s groin, and his breath has become harsh. “This is our mission,” he breathes, sounding rough and desperate. “We have to. You have to.”

Steve feels sickness rise up and mingle with the desperation of his rut again. “No.”

“Yes.”

Steve repeats the ‘no’ several times more as Bucky continues to writhe against him, but his hands don’t loosen their hold on Bucky’s hips, and he doesn’t try to push Bucky off of him. “I can’t.”

Bucky makes an angry sound in his throat and yanks Steve’s head back with the grip he has on his hair. It’s his metal hand and it hurts. “You don’t have a choice,” he says. Steve growls at the dominant gesture, his hindbrain urging him to put the omega in his place. But Bucky leans closer again. For a second Steve thinks he’s going to kiss him, but he doesn’t. He puts his lips to Steve’s ear, the dark length of his hair falling around them. “Don’t make me take it,” he whispers, sounding desperate. His hips have not stopped moving. “Please. Alpha. You’re supposed to give it to me. Take me. Don’t make me do it.”

Steve groans. There’s nothing worse that Bucky could have said. He’s in heat, and Steve’s in rut, and now he’s calling Steve Alpha and begging Steve to mate with him the way that he wants it; to take him the way an alpha should take their omega. Steve opens his eyes to find Bucky staring at him once again, only this time his eyes are soft and his brow is pinched—pleading. He looks more like the Bucky that Steve remembers, and Steve can’t ignore the urge within himself to make that pleading look go away, to satisfy.

He flips them over. The only reason he’s able to do it is because he takes Bucky completely by surprise. Bucky’s eyes go wide for a moment, assessing a threat, before he realizes the move for what it is and he relaxes and purrs. Steve doubts himself immediately. He brings his hands to Bucky’s face, pleased when he’s not pushed away and Bucky fucking bends his neck to expose himself. “Alpha,” Bucky whines, but Steve’s not having it.

“You listen to me,” he says angrily, using the last goddamn piece of himself that he has left to convey seriousness in his tone. Bucky stares at him obediently and Steve swallows. “They don’t wipe my memory, got it? You may not remember me, but I remember you. And I won’t hurt you. I hurt you, you have to tell me. If you want to stop, you tell me. Got it?”

James frowns, even in his lust-ridden brain he knows he does. This stranger—no, some distant and unreachable part of his mind corrects, not a stranger—Steve—is referencing the wipes, is telling him that they’ve met before. James can’t disprove such a claim. He wonders if this Captain Rogers was once his handler, or possibly a target. He wonders if “Bucky” was his call sign then. Steve is still staring intently at him, waiting for his answer, and James shakes his head to get the thoughts to go away. They’re not important, not relevant to the mission. If his promise is all the Captain needs, then it means nothing to James to give it. “You won’t hurt me,” he says again, thinking that the alpha above him is stupid to imagine that he could, but adds, “I’ll tell you if you do.”

That seems to settle it for Steve. He comes down and kisses James’ forehead, leaves his lips to linger there in a manner that makes James distinctly uncomfortable—as if they are old friends, or family even. “Okay,” he says quietly. “Turn over.”

James flips, never having obeyed an order so quickly. He tries to push himself up to present but with Steve’s heavy weight at his back he can’t do it. Behind, he can feel the alpha’s hardness pressing between his cheeks and it makes him whine needily. This may be a mission, but he’s still been left wanting and unfulfilled for close to going on twenty four hours now. There are no feelings of doubt or discontent with the situation that James needs to force down to be a good soldier. He’s allowed to want this, and he does. “Alpha,” he urges when Steve doesn’t move to penetrate him. “Please. Now, please.”

He can feel the exact moment when Steve gives in. His hands are clamped tightly on James’ wrists to keep him still, but when James nearly begs to be fucked it seems to push the alpha off whatever edge of hesitance he’s still managing to hang onto. James can feel Steve’s cock on his ass as he allows himself to thrust at last. The teasing slide is made easier by the slick that’s gathered there. James groans in frustration, rubbing his face into the bed and fairly suffocating himself as he waits for the other man to get on with it and get inside of him. He’s aching for it, for the stretch and pressure of an alpha’s cock, for a knot. He knows he’ll start yelling in a moment if Steve doesn’t DO SOMETHING.

But he does, and James doesn’t have to yell at him after all. Steve presses up onto his arms, the sweaty warmth of his chest leaving James’ back. He positions himself, bumping against James’ hole, and it’s a relief that he forgoes the unnecessary gesture of using fingers first—James is sure he would snap at him if he tried. Steve presses inside, entering him slowly but never stopping until he’s fully seated, his hips flush with James’ ass. It’s not hard to take him in. James’ body is slick and ready for it and he groans lowly into the bed at the sheer relief of it. “Yesss,” he hisses, and turns his head as much as he can to look back at Steve. The man looks about as gone for it as James feels, and a dark thrill shoots through him at the thought that he’s about to be taken just the way he wants to be. Fucked and bred just the way his body is crying out for. It may not be Brock, but James has decided not to think about that. All he can think about in his current state is Steve; the smell of him, the feel of him, even the sounds he makes, it all feels too perfectly satisfying. Maybe it has something to do with the barrage of drugs the techs had shot him up with yesterday. Maybe. He’s not supposed to care though, and he doesn’t. He tries to thrust his hips backwards, wanting movement and having no idea how the other man can bear to hold so still now that they’re connected. There’s nowhere to go with Steve pinning him down at the hips, but he knows the Alpha feels him squirming, recognizes it for the request that it is. “Move,” James says, sounding more demanding than a good omega should. “God just…”

Steve has a hand in his hair and his nose in his neck before James can finish the sentence. A very low growl, almost a feeling more than a sound, is coming out steadily from his chest. It makes goosebumps break out on James’ arms. “Are you telling me what to do?” Steve asks.

Against the bed, Bucky’s mouth splits in a smug grin. This is what he wanted, what Brock would’ve done. At the height of his heats, all the asset wants, all James wants, is to be taken. To be held down and owned. James strains to look back over his shoulder. The angle is awkward but he ignores it, fixing Steve with what he hopes is a challenging stare. If he has to goad the alpha into a more feral headspace to get things done, then by god that’s exactly what he’ll do. “I came here to get fucked, so yeah, I am. Move,” he bites out, hoping that it will spur Steve into action. It does. He pulls out, ignoring James’ cry of protest. His big hands slide down to his hips and he gets onto his knees behind him. James follows, pressing back and presenting. He can feel Steve’s hands pulling him apart, baring his hole. There is silence and James knows without having to look that Steve is just staring at him. The thought of it makes him shudder. He presses his face into the bedding and whines.

“God,” Steve exclaims softly, dragging a thumb across his leaking hole. “You’re soaked.”

James cannot stop whining low, needy omega sounds. Then he feels the blunt head of Steve’s cock at his entrance and he moans. “Yes,” he hisses, though it’s muffled against the sheets. He presses his ass back harder, and that causes Steve to pop inside of him. The alpha grunts in surprise, but then he’s right back to thrusting, this time faster. Just as deep though, and god, if that isn’t exactly what James wants. “Oh, hugn—oh!” The noises he’s making are obscene but James hardly notices. They seem to drive Steve on, his hips slapping harder each time he moans particularly loud.

It goes on like this until James reaches for his own cock. He only gets a couple of strokes in before Steve is knocking his hand away. James cries out indignantly but then Steve pulls out, flips him over and pushes right back in. He wraps his hand around James’ cock, hips working at the same pace as his hand. He’s staring down at James with a burning intensity, breath heavy with his efforts. “Mine,” he growls, giving a calculated twist on the upstroke.

James’ eyes roll back in his head. “Ugh, fuuck.” It’s incredible and nothing he’s used to. No alpha has ever done this for him before, always leaving it to him to take care of. He can hardly thrust into the grip very well when he’s being fucked as hard as he is, but damn if he doesn’t try. “Please,” he groans, grappling at Steve’s shoulders for something to hold onto. He hardly knows what he’s asking for. The alpha is sweaty above him and James’ hands glide over the muscles in his back. “Please, Steve,”

Steve’s eyes shoot to his at the use of his name. Something raw and more intense than what they’re doing now passes through them, and before James knows what’s happening he’s being kissed. It’s not gentle. It’s plying, and insistent, and needy. God, is it needy. Steve is kissing him like it’s the answer to something and all James can do is go along for the ride.

“Bucky,” Steve is grunting at him when he finally parts enough to speak. James knows he’s speaking to him, so he opens his eyes to the nonsensical name. He doesn’t really care what this man calls him, so long as he never stops. “Buck I’m gonna,” Steve tells him, brow sweaty and pinched. “I have to.”

James groans, feeling how true the alpha’s words are. His knot is growing, tugging more insistently with every thrust. When it feels like Steve might pull away at the last second, James wraps his arms and legs around him in a fierce hold. “No,” he begs. “Inside me. I need it.” He’s not thinking even a little bit about the mission now, only the ache inside him. It’s an ache only a knot will fix, and he whimpers this to Steve as he holds him. “Knot me. Alpha, please. Want to feel it. Fill me up. Breed me.”

Steve makes a filthy sound and shoves forward, groaning long and low into James’ ear. His knot catches, fully blown as he climaxes. His hand has stopped moving over James’ cock but it hardly matters now. He’s rocking his hips shallowly, pulling his knot taut against James’ rim, pulsating it over his prostate again and again and again. James doesn’t need anything else to make him come spectacularly.

“Why do you torture yourself like this?”

Brock doesn’t turn around from the observation window. He figures Rollins is just here to taunt him anyway. “Nobody asked you to come in here,” he says quietly, attention still fixed on the pair in the next room.

“Yeah well…” Rollins comes up and stands right next to Brock, eyes taking in the same sight. “I was curious.” When Brock says nothing, he adds, “Looks like they’re finished.”

Brock scoffs and turns abruptly from the window, putting his back to it. “They’re not fucking finished.” Idiot, he wants to add. He scrubs his hands over his face and it occurs to him that he needs to shave. “That was just round one.” Brock doesn’t know about Rogers, but he is intimately familiar with his own omega’s stamina during a heat. “They’ll be in there for a good two days at least.”

“And you’re just going to stand here and watch?” Rollins rolls his eyes. “Stupid.”

“I can’t do anything else,” Brock snaps, irritated at his friend. “You’ve never been bonded. You wouldn’t understand.”

“No?”

“No.” He sighs. “You think what? It’s just jealousy?” He shakes his head. “I could handle that. But this… It’s like a physical ache.” He turns slightly to glance through the window again, thinks better of it, and turns back around. “Can’t stand it.”

“Can’t do anything to change it.” Rollins points out. “You never should’ve gotten so close. He’s just a thing, and at the end of the day he’s Hydra’s thing, not yours.”

“Yeah.” Brock really doesn’t have it in him to argue that point. He wants to, but he doesn’t. It isn’t like he doesn’t wish he could set the poor SOB free. But that’s never going to happen, and playing house with his bonded for the last six months has just been wishful thinking. “They still going at it?” he asks, unwilling to turn around and look again. He wasn’t exactly getting off on the sight before.

Rollins looks. “Naw. Resting.”

Brock grits his teeth, can’t keep the image of that goddamn super soldier, tied to his mate, out of his head.

“You think it’ll take?”

“Christ Rollins, you just don’t quit. Of course it will.” Pretty soon he’ll have to see the soldier, heavy with a litter of his pups. He hates it. Hates it more than anything.

Rollins shrugs and claps a hand onto Brock’s shoulder. “Don’t stay in here.” Another glance back. “He’s obviously not going to hurt ‘im. Leave them to it. Come and have a drink with me.”

Brock looks at Rollins then and really considers him. He calls him his friend, but the truth is the two of them are just the same as the Winter Soldier—property of Hydra. It’s taken years for him to realize it, but it’s true. Still, Rollins is offering him a drink now, and even more than that, a temporary escape. It’s the closest thing to friendly Brock’s ever gotten from the other man, and he figures it’s the best he’s going to get for a while. He might as well go. Because Rollins is right; he never should have gotten so close.

Brock sighs and nods at Rollins. Tells him, “Yeah. Yeah I think I will.”

Masterlist

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[anchorandrope]

happy pride to my hands your hands tied up like two ships i don't care what people say when we're together oh i will carry over fire and water for your love the script was written and i could not change a thing i said hey it's alright if it makes you feel alive and every jaw drops when she's in those jeans there will always be the kind that criticize but i know yes i know we'll be alright so i built you a house from a broken home i'm all yours i've got no control no control it's been so long it's been so long maybe we're fireproof used to sing about being free but now he's changed his mind if you like to do the things you know that we shouldn't do then baby i'm perfect the priest thinks it's the devil my mum thinks it's the flu but girl it's only you for your eyes only i'll show you my heart the summertime and butterflies all belong to your creation so many nights i thought it over told myself i kinda like her but there was something missing in her eyes same lips red same eyes blue same white shirt couple more tattoos wherever i go you bring me home in a black dress she's such an actress yeah so you can cut me up and kiss me harder you can be the pill to ease the pain im just like you if you only knew now i'm asking my friends how to say i'm sorry they say lad give it time there's no need to worry i know that you're scared because i'm so open breathe me in breathe me out i don't know if i could ever go without i get so lost inside your eyes would you believe it? so bright sometimes shine i'm not ever going back don't blame me for falling i was just a little boy i couldn't want you anymore kiss in the kitchen like it's a dance floor staring at the ceiling two weeks and i'll be home we were only kids just tryna work it out wonder what they'd think if they could see us now i've been looking back a lot lately me and you is all i ever know and it's been ages different stages come so far from princess park waiting to wrap your legs around me and i know you hate to smoke without me cause you're the only one when it's said and done and i'm too tired to be tough just wanna be loved by you it's a church of brunt romances and i'm too far gone to pray in a strange way we're all in this together been this way forever you're not the only one but i'd follow you to any place if it's hollywood or bishopsgate i'm coming too if i was a bluebird i would fly to you stay green a little while you bring blue lights to dreams do you think i'm cool too? or am i too into you? maple syrup coffee pancakes for two you lay with him as you stay in the daydream you feel a fool you're back at it again i take you with me every time i go away in a hotel usin' someone else's name when we're finished saying nothing can we please get back to lovin'? i don't wanna face the music but i still wanna dance with you but the friends we make the love it takes is worth is worth is worth it all the time my heart might be broken but i won't be broken down you and me until the end wakin' up to start again fabricated fairytales bring a new world to life there were problems in this empty bottle at the bottom but we drained all that you should be startin' at the sky the birds just passin' by love spent my whole life thinking i had to change

[inspo]

[matthewswifeyx]

Im tired (02)

Pairing- Y/N & Fratboy!Chris

Summary- Y/N and Chris are in a situationship and she is tired of hiding her feelings and she wants to be something more with Chris.

Warnings- angst, crying, arguing

Requested?- Yess! By @loveparqdise <3

"I'm tired of this depressing routine for me Chris. And if we want different things, in whatever you call this relationship, then maybe we can't do this anymore."

Chris sat upright on the bed. His hands covered his face and he rubbed his eyes, he dragged his palms down from his cheeks.

"I don't know what you want from me Y/N. You know that I don't want anything like that." He said.

"Well what we do in private doesn't say that!" I spat.

"Y/N, it's complicated." He huffed.

"Well Chris, I'm not accepting this 'love' you have for me because I don't think I deserve it! I deserve more. I shouldn't have to settle with attention only at parties! I shouldn't be ignored if I see you in public with your friends. God, why are you so scared?" All of these words are just flying out of my mouth, without time to process them. But he knows it's all true.

"I'm not scared! I just don't want to get into a relationship where it's one-sided." He declared.

"So your saying if we got into a relationship it would only be me saving it?" I asked confused. "The thing is Chris, you say you don't want anything. But you can't lead me on like this! I am always thinking about you! The only reason I come to these stupid frat parties are for you! And now i'm realising that I would do that for you, but would you do that for me?"

Chris just sat there in silence, again.

"This exactly proves my point." I say. I grab my bag and then head for the bedroom door. Then I head for the stairs.

I had ran out the door in a hurry, I didn't want Chris coming after me. Oh wait he wouldn't do that!

I know i'm being harsh but he has to hear me out, he can't expect me to just suppress these feelings until the end of college. He might be able to do that but I definitely wouldn't last.

I'm on the sidewalk now waking away from the noise of the music. And i was crying. Why was I crying over him? The tears had destroyed my makeup, the mascara covered drops had created black lines down my face. Maybe it represented my broken heart?

I stumbled over to a wooden bench and sat down. I looked up at the starry night and I tried to calm myself down. But I couldn't, all of these unanswerable questions filled my thoughts.

"Am I really that unlovable?"

"Why did Chris use me?"

"Why did Chris waste my time?"

"Does he even care?"

"Does this even bother him?"

I tried to focus on my breathing. It was a breezy night, and goosebumps grazed my skin. I held my arms in my own embrace and I just let my remaining tears fall. I felt doubt rush over me. Was I unreasonable? No I couldn't have been.

I leaned back on the bench and tried to relax. The trees swayed behind me, it gave me a sense of peace, but I was far from it.

God, why can't Chris just love me back?

Banner credits to @issysh3ll <3

Hey guys! I hope you really enjoyed this fic! If you have any suggestions/requests please do not hesitate to send me a quick message, and i will try and get back to you asap! <3

[v1trum]

I dont even care anymore i have to talk about how cool i am

Like i try to not sound like im bragging about it but i am all i ever want to DO is brag about it. So let me brag. I might lose some followers for this

Ik i talk about it a lot its not a pity thing or attention seeking thing i just genuinely think it's one of the coolest things to happen to me bc i have an extremely uninteresting life so this happened and became my entire personality 🫶

Me omw to get out of the smoking car, hop onto my broken ankle while holding my shattered arm against my torso and walk a distance (idk how long the distance was but it was a distance)

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to chill in a random car for 10 minutes with all of these injuries doing absolutely nothing

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to be the only reason the old lady in the car next to us didn't die (if my side of the car hadn't been crushed by two dif cars and a pole i wouldn't have broken so many bones, but also that lady would 100% have died)

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to sit in an ambulance acting like its the most normal thing ever (im strapped to the rolling bed thingy with all these injuries, no pain meds yet, and still not crying)

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to fucking START GIGGLING in the ambulance bc the only thing i could think was "heh ... Im JUST like (the superhero character i was obsessed with at the time)" 😭 ✋

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to get my shirt that says "not today, satan" cut off of me in the ER (it was in fact that day.) (i again felt like i was in a movie bc CMONNNN THEY CUT MY CLOTHES OFFFFF)

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to try not to laugh hysterically at how being rolled into the ER i was just chilling and literally every nurse around stopped in their tracks to stare at me with the most "😨😧.." look on their faces ever but i could not have given less of a fuck 😭

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to get several painful x-rays of my shattered arm and broken ankle, the doctors say "hey we're gonna put you under emergency surgery to set your broken arm" and i was like "ok" but then i moved my arm around and set it in place in front of them and was like "that feels good" . They did another x ray and i in fact did just set my own fucking arm on no pain meds in front of them 🫶

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to ditch my crutches and big walking boot one(1) day after getting home from the hospital and walking on my broken ankle consistently bc i was tired of that shit

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to get put on literal KETAMINE so they could put a cast on my arm (bc of how shattered it was it wasn't able to be done without pain meds)

And stare at the mickey mouse painting on the wall and then go "IS THAT MY ARM??? 😨😨😨" when i saw it next to me. Like no bro its ur foot YES ITS UR ARM 😭??

Also worth noting the ketamine didn't really do anything for pain it kinda just made me unable to make a coherent thought while they shoved my freshly broken arm around inside of my flesh! That shit hurt more than the actual snap crackle pop when i broke it

But also i literally blacked all that out so ofc it hurt more than that cus I don't remember it 😭

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to awkwardly stand outside a different hospital (the one my mom was at) looking distraught bc i had just gotten out of MY hospital, was still extremely swollen, bruised, freshly in casts and struggling to use crutches while i waited for my dad to get a wheelchair for me (i kept almost falling over and ppl were a tad concerned.)

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to call my friends giggling in the hospital before i was even on pain meds like "YO GUESS WHAT" (i couldn't even see my screen bc the neck brace wouldn't let me move)

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to have raw. RAW. Infected skin under my cast (a velcro one you could briefly take off to clean but needed to stay on otherwise)! Also me omw to have scars from that velcro cast cutting extremely deep into my skin as if it wasn't enough pain already like damn 💀

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

Me omw to STILL not remember literally the entire car ride leading up to when i "woke up" in the car. Which btw i never actually passed out it was all shock. I was awake physically the whole time but i do NAWT remember that shit and ik its for the better but if i remember it maybe I'll take it seriously again and stfu abt it bc it'll be traumatizing instead of cool?? 💀

[insert the proud tiktok emoji]

I could go on and on helppp

[hanamgi]

Autoshop

┈➤ Summary:  He was the sun in your universe, you just wished you were a fraction of that for his.

◦ Strangers/friends to….

◦ 17k+ words 

◦ Rating: 18+

◦ Pairing: mehcanicJKxFemReader

➤ Warnings: ┃ Swearing, DomJK, face sitting/riding, lustful makeout, they have sex in the shop, seggs on the car lol, teasing, dirty talk, grinding, he spits on it, sloppy eating out, ┃Mutual pining, Jungkook is an assho*le lowkey, reader is very much naive, frustration between the two, emotionally constipated Koo, implied traumatic past relationships, Jimin is the best friend JK needs, Hoseok also a good friend, idk I wrote this during a time I was frustrated with someone, and in essence this kinda bout how she did me dirty but obviously this is 100 more dramticized for the audience hehe

HELLO: I really wanted to release it's his first time MONTHS back but literally uni has hit me like a truck I can't seem to escape exam szn at all (pls help) but the hype is dying down im in my final semster of first year (more exams yay) but ill get to have a long break after. That being said I hope you enjoy this, it was in my draft for almost 11 months now, so lmk what you think don't be shy and please like, share, reblog <3

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Finally it was time.

You were beyond ecstatic to go and visit the shop again, the oil in your car finally signalling that it needed a refill, so why not bring it to your favourite mechanic? It was last summer that your car had broken down on the highway, needing a whole new engine and it ended up getting towed into a mechanic shop just off the 406. You were tired, exhausted, just trying to get back to your apartment from spending the weekend at your parent's house.

Your parents missed you but you missed the little growly cat you had at home, -Mr. Snuggles fur- (the most fluffiest, cutest, grumpy, old, ginger cat you had waiting to welcome you home) if it wasn’t for him you probably would have ended up jumping off the bridge near the highway from embarrassment. The tow trucker guy had managed to crack in a few not subtle jabs on the old thing, but seriously it isn’t your fault that you can’t afford a 2020 mercedes benz Sue you! besides you knew jack shit about cars, it wasn't your problem. But that wasn’t even the good part, the mechanic fixing it was a very attractive, very handsome man. Pretty privilege really does exist because you let the shit he said slide, to focus on his handsome figure.

Frankly, you had bigger problems to deal with, like; your job: when the sketches for the new Facebook advertisement were due, what colours would be more appealing to people, how the advertisement should be perceived as funny rather then serious, the difference between maroon and burgundy-god you really had bigger problems. You really hadn’t thought about your engine at all, you just filled your car with gas and drove it to where you needed to throughout the years. When you look back to when you bought it, you grimace,  the whole process was really sketchy. DAMMIT!! You should have taken your dad or hired someone to help you find a suitable low-maintenance car. Yet here you were again, it’s been six months since the first night you got your car towed here and kept coming back whenever there was a slight squeak to it. Some may think you're very passionate and caring for your car, maybe well off since you keep coming in to get unnecessary shit fixed. But that's not the case at all, the secret was…..you were totally, (and delusionally) utterly, in love with the mechanic you’ve seemed to befriend over the months coming here. 

Currently sitting on the stool he pulled out for you, you watch him tweak the engine's air pump while you sigh dreamily. 

He wore denim overalls and a wife-beater underneath, the top of it tied around his tiny waist. You could see the beautiful glaze of his honey muscles, –sinewy lean, and big—skin that glimmered from his sweat. Your imagination grows fast when he squats and the muscles of his thighs bulge slightly, god you were drooling. He was so handsome, tall, muscular, and- “..... Hello?” he called for your attention, the fourth time now..apparently and you blink embarrassed. Slightly jumping at his soft voice, sitting upright, you rise from the stool. “Oh- s- sorry I didn’t hear you” you blushed lightly, feeling your face heat up. 

“Seemed like you were out there” he refers to you dozing off, you chuckle lightly. 

“Something like that” you mumbled, pushing some strands of hair behind your back. He turns to you with a charming smile, a wrench in his veiny grip and you gulp. Your gaze slowly lingers from his tight grip to his face, soft lips pulled upwards into a cute pout, such sweet eyes forming crescents from the effects of his smile, your favourite type of smile. You’ve always wondered how it would feel to poke the little moles underneath his chin, or on top of his lip, maybe stick a finger into his cute dimple. Your fantasies run faster and faster and you almost miss what he says again. 

“I changed the oil and fixed the squeaking, it’s probably gonna happen again and I don't want you to keep coming down here to pay ridiculous money to get it fixed so let me show you,” he waved you over. You frowned,- did he not want to see you anymore?

“Aren’t you supposed to advertise your business and not push away the customers?” You lightheartedly joke while he snorts.

Walking over you stop right in front of him, he was a mere 5 inches taller than you and the smell of oil and cologne wafted up your nose. It was a weird combination but it smelled so good, a little rusty but it was divinely masculine, the type of scent you would want to bury your face into, and sleep and bask in all night. The kind of scent that gives enough comfort and warmth. The scent is laced with maybe Dior perfume, metal rust, and the leftover remnants of cigarettes buds– that he smokes on his breaks.

“Okay see right here this little tube wrapped in the tin?” he asked, gesturing to the engine, you nodded. “You're going to take a wrench and twist it clockwise,” he demonstrates.

“I don't own a wrench,” you deadpan and Jungkook chuckles, he’s very amused to say the least, light airy laughter leaving his lips.

“You can have this one, I have plenty” he smiles cheekily and you almost groan. It was like he was trying to get rid of you, you swear. 

“And then you're done, if it doesn't budge, grease it with the oil you bought last week,” he says and you nod, wanting to stay near his body warmth. He looks down at your pouty lips and places a hand underneath your chin.

“ ‘.....’ this is going to save you money trust me” he reassures–it wasn’t a way of shooing you out he assures. Jungkook was just concerned with your superfluous way of spending your money. He lifts your head up and your heart races a million times faster, breath hitching inside your throat. 

“I know but you would do it for free if I came in, right?” you ask and he giggles, you swore your heart stopped at the airy- supple sound, it was adorable. 

“Yeah, but what if you come in and I'm not here? Then what….. plus coming all this way is a lot,” he reasons and you sigh nodding your head. He was right, it was a lot of time, a lot of money to spend too. Your ulterior motives were not really a subtle secret anymore either, you're sure he is aware of your crush on him. You did spend so much gas money coming here and then money for getting random shit that didn't need fixing to be repaired.

“C’mon don't sulk,” he taps your nose and you finally crack a smile. You loved it when he played with you, cradled your face for any injuries he suspects whenever you come in with a busted mirror or a dented corner of the car. His light touches on your elbow guiding you, or the hovering arm over your lower back that does not creep down in a way to respect you. You want to see him more though, see him watch you, or how your gaze shows twinkles and stars when looking at him, and you know you are not subtle, he even teases you about it from time to time. You want to feel his skin under your palms, on you, under him over him–you're getting carried away.

“Okay but you should come get some lunch with me, if you aren't busy of course, maybe during your break or when your shift is done, or another day if you really busy I don't mind honestly-” you stop rambling to check his reaction, he has a stupid bunny grin on his face, eyes on yours while you heat up from embarrassment. 

You weren't asking him out, you were only asking him to lunch. The last thing you wanted was to make him uncomfortable, you knew he was not interested in you with the way he approaches you’re mild confessions, or how he ignores the obvious yearning and longing in your gaze. You know he ignored the little twinkles and fairy dust shooting out of your orbs to him because you are so sure that the energy from the power of falling for this man has created this fiery light in your eyes– you can see it yourself. You can feel the weird tension, or maybe it’s just you or he just ignores it really well. Hopefully.

“I finish my shift in an hour, I have a few cars to wrap up and send off…..” He trails off, eyes shifting down to yours. 

He watches the way your face falls, and your body sulk into a frown–he doesn’t want to disappoint you after all, you were so fragile he was afraid of hurting you. “Do you wanna help me and we can go out after?” he asks with a smirk and you feel your heart tug at some strings, the light coming back into your face. You nod eagerly and he mumbles a ‘great’ under his breath.

—

An hour later after helping Jungkook with the cars, (mainly passing him tools and getting him water, when he needed it) you both sit in a little diner near your apartment. It was an 80’s themed diner that had chequered floors and race car seats, funky colours and lighting. Jeon fit right in with his mechanic outfit, but you on the other hand had basic light-washed flare jeans and a basic tube top. You both ordered and talked randomly with one another, it wasn’t your first time going out for a friendly lunch with him, at least that’s what he thought. You both were on a friendly lunch date until one of the waitresses mistakes you both for a couple and Jeon was quick to correct her. You sigh mentally, wishing you could just tell him how you feel, yet another part of you thinks that he knows and that he’s just been ignoring your shameless flirtation. You would never be able to recover from the humiliation of him rejecting you, nor would your heart be able to take the defeat so you settle with being friends, for now—

You behave yourself and eat the food you both ordered in peace, you’d never allow yourself to cross that line; because real life isn’t like the books you read, the images and dreams you have, and people aren't what you make them out to be. You knew this. 

You always looked at the people in your life as the potential they can be, and not for who they truly are. You’ve learned the hard way when you’ve been met with disappointment and a broken heart one too many times. But you couldn't help it, you couldn't help but see people for what they could be, and that in itself shows just how vulnerable you are. You were susceptible when it came to someone else’s feelings and always tried to be as thoughtful and empathic to how someone feels and why they are the way they are, thus making excuses as to their actions.

But then again, you did set up that unrealistic expectation of him long before you had even had a conversation with him. The inner hopeless romantic in you who thinks of life as the galaxy, people as balls of sunshine, and earth as a huge ball of fluff with people who have the potential to be the sun, and the stars. 

The man right in front of you….

Man

Slopingly eating away at his burger, he was the sun in your solar system. You’d like to think he has his own planet, beautiful and soft like him. Maybe on his planet lived cats like Mr. Snuggle Fur and had tulip fields every couple miles you’d walk down it. Water as clear as glass, blueish-green colour, and maybe people as cute and kind-hearted as Jungkook, that resided on that planet. Even though the way he usually dressed was the entire opposite of how he was, you hoped that at least the way you imagined him was just as beautiful as his plant

“Are you gonna finish that?” Jeon asks, pointing to the half-eaten burger you were gonna end up taking home, but with one look at his big doe-eyes you end up pushing the plate towards him. His face instantly brightens, taking a bite out of the burger with a grin on his face.

 He was your favourite planet you’ve decided.

“Thanks,” he smiles, mouth stuffed full of food, you giggle dismissing him with a hand wave. You get the waiter to bring back the check and you see Jungkook’s eyes widen when you pass the card over.

“What are you doing?” his voice is surprised, loud. You grin at him.

“You’ll get the next one,” you simply reply, paying and packing the leftovers. Jeon scoffs, giving you a pout. “I don’t mind paying when it comes to you, as you’ve noticed” you tease and he gives you a playful glare.

A stare that tells you not to go there, and your heart squeezing tightly in your ribcage.

“Let’s get you home, it’s getting late” He walks out, and you trail behind him with a soft smile. Your hearts hurting already.

—

Now back home you decide on a quick shower and to sleep in a t-shirt 4 sizes too big, courtesy of the cheap Walmart men's section. You sigh on your bed, scrolling through the contacts on your phone until you decide to stalk Jeon on Instagram. It was something that you did often, something that was a part of your nightly routine actually- before you would go to bed you would stalk his Instagram account. It was aesthetically pleasing, pictures of him on his motorcycle, or in his garage fixing cars. It was mainly black or white themed–that bad boy dark aesthetic. Occasional pictures of his Doberman running through the grass, and him kissing his mom on the cheek in what looks like a Christmas dinner, with the table set, and a tree in the background.

You smile, the warmth of bubbles brew up in the pit of your stomach, and butterflies erupt inside you tugging on the veins that pump the blood into your heart and down your body. You had such hopeless feelings, ever since he fixed your car at the mechanic shop that night back from your parent's house- you’ve always come back to him. That night he had given you food and his large grey denim jacket to keep you warm while he fixed the boot crack of an engine that you had. You felt oddly warm and safe, even though he was a complete stranger at the time. He joked and talked to you, even drove you home that night in his car because he needed to order some parts for your engine. 

Not to mention he was also completely and utterly hot, so handsome to the point that you think you would die from staring at him for too long, and oh god- oh god his smile was the most divine, heartwarming, pussy clenching, adorable thing in the world. Little bunny teeth, plump bottom lip, faint red-tinted lips stretched into an up-pull direction. God, you were down bad.

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

You were back at the auto shop, much to Jungkook’s and your bank account's dismay. Only because he didn’t like you spending money on unnecessary fixes, he knows how anxious you get when your car so much as makes a squeak— scared of getting into an accident with the old junk. Jeon was always expecting you to come by the shop at least once a week, this time complaining about how the wrench he let you borrow wasn’t turning the tinned-covered canister in the engine. Helping you replace it again, he sends you off—curtly nodding his head while you wave, your wide eyes, starry.

They were two brown orbs that he has grown accustomed to, grown used to watching his every move and sometimes let it slip down his body on a hot summer day when he has his frame out of his tank top, or his legs free from the confinements of his overalls. He likes teasing you most times when he invites you to sit on a stool and talk to him while he fixes parts–manoeuvres around the car to assemble, and dismantle. Sometimes he curls his biceps slightly in front of you, tightly wrapping his hand around a wrench that did not need that much force whatsoever. You got flustered easily and he loved to see you pat down the warmth of your hue-tinted cheeks, or hum along to the song all of a sudden—all an act to calm down your beating heart he thinks.

He knows your act of coming here to the shop is to secretly ogle at him, you shamelessly letting out the crush you have on him in other forms—which is pretty obvious anyways—but Jungkook doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t want to embarrass you. Plus he loves your company, and your rambling about your co-workers, the food you bring in, and Mr snuggle Paws or whatever the name of your cat was—he appreciated it all. He valued the friendship you both have seemed to build throughout the months. You were a very wise, smart, beautiful woman—and he’d be damned to think he’s never seen you in that light. You were sexy, yes. But he’s never let his imagination broaden outside the area of this auto shop, the barricades on his heart work extra hard to block out the cute sounds of your giggles, or the way your hand comes up to part your soft curls behind your ear— and the way you ramble about random things in hopes to entertain Jungkook while he works— he found all of these things about you endearing and adorable. This is part of the reason why Jungkook had not tried to initiate a move, a hangout, or anything more than the friendly and respectful hug he parts you with whenever you leave the shop, or whatever restaurant you both choose to eat at once in a while. 

You were dangerous for his heart, he can feel the barbed wires he put on them years ago-loosen from time to time and it only happens in your presence, and the only time he felt the flutters in his stomach and the pulse in his heart quicken was with his ex. The one who has humiliated him broke him and made him barb up his heart to be a clueless fucker who has no hope, no expectation, no interest in love anymore. He didn’t believe that loving someone was enough for anyone, just love is never enough. No one in his eyes had the potential to be worthy of him, but there’s you. You who he thinks may have the potential, maybe. He doesn’t know, he doesn’t want to discover it. He doesn’t want to expect anything from you because he thinks you’ll disappoint him, he thinks that there’s no point if it’s all going to end in the grand scheme of all things. 

Jungkook only fucks, that’s what allows him to satisfy himself and protect his heart, it works for him. Clearly, you are not looking for that, you’re not looking for a quick fuck and he’d rather keep you as a friend than lose you, it is comfortable the way things are now. He knew eventually that you would crack and tell him your feelings, but he only hoped it wasn’t going to be anytime soon. Plus, you deserve better, you deserve better than Jungkook who is 1) a pessimist; he sees the negatives of life, and his thinking is cynical, very opposite from yours. You’re a better person than Jungkook, you see the good in people and think that anyone “bad” can change, and can be “fixed”. But Jungkook didn't want to change, nor did he want to be fixed. Jungkook wanted to be Jungkook…unguarded and free. He didn’t like all that vulnerability shit, he didn't want any of that soft stuff, and he did not want that level of emotional intimacy with anyone ever again. No, he didn’t want that, no one nor you or anyone else can change his mind. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

“Oh,” you're dejected, nodding your head at Jimin, Jungkook’s coworker. He told you that Jungkook wasn’t working for the rest of the week, and you now regret not texting him first rather than showing up unannounced and as much as you claim that any amount of money that you spend on Jungkook is worth coming to see him for, you should’ve thought rationally—the gas money it took you to get here from the office was at least worth a brand new pair of work pants from Zara. Smiling softly at Jimin, you bid him a farewell, walking out feeling your embarrassment from your heated skin, almost tripping on your feet on the way out with your head hung low from disappointment. 

“…” You hear your name, the gentle voice had a slight rasp to it this time and slowly your heartbeat quickens as your eyes look up from his combat boots to his face. He was fitted in black cargo pants and a black tee, the black ink also standing out with a new print behind his elbow. You don’t comment on it yet though, your eyes swell up from smiling real hard and at him. The bag you had in your hand came into view and you saw his eyes flick down to the greasy takeout boxes from his favourite restaurant. 

“Jeon, Hi!” you chirp a little loudly, after a beat of silence he breaks into a smile. But his eyes widened again, a little look of guilt, or was it confusion you didn’t know but you broke the awkward silence by holding up the bag again. 

“I thought you were working today and brought some food, I-i’m sorry I probably should have texted you first, but I didn’t want to-” you stop, huffing at your own ramble and Jungkook’s eyes seem to puff up, his grin widening from ear to ear and that seems to calm you down, it brought some sort of comfort to your erratic heartbeat. Oh god, it was beating so hard you just wished he didn’t see it beating out from your chest. Because for one he looks extremely beautiful outside of his work outfit, and two his smile just seems to always brighten up your days. After all, he was a whole beautiful galaxy in your eyes.

“Ahh I wish you texted me I-” he stuttered, walking past you to reach the little cupboards in front of the office you just bided Jimin goodbye from. His voice was a little rushed as he grabbed his forgotten wallet from his desk and stood back in front of you. 

“I- I’m going out right now and” 

“Jungkookie” a voice interrupts him and you can see the look of horror in his eyes flashing with shame and terror. You give him a confused look, you didn’t know why you read that frenzy expression on his face, and why it was there.  Until a girl appears through the doors of the garage and you see him shut his eyes when she grabs onto his bicep, looking over at you. 

“Did you find your wallet?” she asks and you blink up, your heart clenching at the tight grip she has on his arm. You don’t let it show though, you knew that deep down Jungkook had girls lining up for him, he was just that kind of guy. You twist the bag back behind your frame and Jungkook’s eyes flick from your hands to your eyes, he’s watching you carefully as if he was concerned about you.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” he says, clearing his throat awkwardly. The woman was beautiful, she had long blonde hair, clad in a cute red sundress that showed off her well-built long legs, and her bright smile that could probably light up anyone's world, maybe it already lit up Jungkook’s world, just like his own smile did to yours.

“Oh hi, Celeste” she introduces herself, and outstretches her hand, you shake it, giving her a wide smile. You didn’t want Jungkook to know that slowly your heart was tugging apart inside, and that bile was probably rising up and had the sudden urge to vomit out your stomach's contents of breakfast and coffee. 

“…” you introduce yourself and Jungkook gives you a tight lip smile his nystagmic eyes missed nothing, but you also avoid them, avoid his being while Celeste beams about the garage and the random Corvette that’s being fixed up. Easing into some easy-going conversations, and more small talk about the party they're going to attend after, meanwhile, your heart clenched and twisted with a wicked feeling of jealousy, eyes zeroing in on her hand on Jungkook’s bicep. It looked natural like it was the millionth time she was doing this and you didn’t how much longer you could take it, seeing him with someone else. 

“I- ’m going to go now, I hope you guys have a good time at the party,” you uttered after you all chatted for a while, and Jungkook’s eyes softened at the tight expression on your face–a lacklustre smile on your lips, he can see right through you, he knows you're disappointed, upset- but not angry. 

“Wait, you should totally come, it’ll be a good time,” she suggests and you flinch slightly, looking over at Jungkook who gives you a tight smile, almost as if he was uncomfortable with the idea because his lips primed, and his brows knitted into a frown. You chuckle uneasily, waving your hand in a dismissive way before turning your head away from them a moment.

“Oh c’mon, it’ll be fun and if you know Jungkookie here im sure you’ll get along with the others at the party” You almost vomit from the nickname, the very cute and intimate nickname that falls from her mouth naturally, her hand rubbing his bicep in a soothing manner. Your face heats up from frustration and embarrassment because Jungkook clearly did not want you to accept yet you open your mouth to accept, giving Jungkook one last glance that has you nervously nipping at the bottom of your lip. 

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

You're on the sidewalk, nervous and jittery from entering the three-story home overflowing with people inside and out, bobbleheads scattered all over the top terrace to the front yard. Red cups are held in everybody’s hand, either filled with alcohol or any pop of their choice, but the way drunken bodies move and shout has you thinking of the latter option. Your bottom lip is tucked underneath your teeth, bare legs stuck to the ground as you contemplate the house, you didn't know what you were doing here, to be honest. 

Jungkook definitely did not want you there, you were absolutely terrified of entering this stranger's party, and Celeste was probably just trying to be nice by inviting you yet you had bitter feelings towards her. What were you trying to prove? Show Jungkook that you were better than her, dressed into a tight crochet dress you’ve decided to borrow from your friend, about to step into a sea of people you didn't know and the only person that did– clearly showed his disinterest in wanting you there. 

The look on his face showed his frustration and apprehension in not wanting you at the party as if he had something to hide, but that gave you all the push to come, maybe prove to him that you are as cool and as beautiful as Celeste. You wanted to mingle with his friends and converse with others to show Jungkook that you could fall in with his crowd.

Underneath all the nervousness and stress you are feeling, you feel a little brave and confident in the quite revealing, short dress, hair locks cascading down your back with glittery makeup on to emphasize your features. You hoped that if you were to approach Jungkook tonight that he would drop his mouth open, maybe discreetly look you up while you talk and enjoy yourself. You just want to show Jungkook how cool you could be, you could show him what he could have instead and in a perfect world, he would finally realize his feelings for you and come running to hug your waist and bury his boyish face into your neck, telling you how much he loves you.

 But this isn’t a perfect world, clearly when the first thing you see is a girl sitting on Jungkook’s lap on the couch when you walk in, and that girl was not Celeste but rather a brunette wearing a backless top. 

Your blink back pathetic tears, as you shift from one foot to the other. You were at a safe enough distance for them not to notice you but you also felt like throwing up, felt your heart shatter even harder than before because of one thing you never thought Of course Jungkook would turn out to be a fuck boy. A boy who flies through girls easily, bedding and dipping fast. What did you expect?

You figured that out by deciding to stay unnoticed at the party for a couple of hours, waiting for a time that he wasn’t occupied with shoving his tongue down someone’s throat. You counted at least 3, 4, maybe 5 women who had successfully approached him to share spit, your breaking point was when he decided to take the last girl upstairs, where the rooms were and you swore you could have met his eyes for a second as well, but you were quick to rush out that door and back into your car, steadying your breathing.

Pathetic of you to think that Jungkook was the soft and sweet boy you thought, you saw him smirk your way when he had the last girl on his lap, probably sensing your gaze on him finally he decided to hook her legs up to his waist and carry her up the stairs, putting a show on for you, it's as if he was mocking you. You could feel your heart detach itself from your chest, tears streaming down the face that you spent beating up the last two hours. 

A tiny scoff leaves your lips, mind replaying that stupid devilish smirk on his stupidly handsome face.

He knew what he was doing, clearly.

How naive and in your head, you were to think that maybe just maybe Jungkook would have feelings for you and surely you thought that his actions and kind-heartedness towards you were special but seeing the way he held and softly caressed other girls, playing with their hair–showed that you would never be one of those girls. You want to be more than that though. 

He was a good man, he would never intentionally hurt you and you blame yourself for your tears–if only you told him if only you sat him down and talked to him about your undying love. But then again, it’s been months of dropping hints and months of flirting with him surely he would know you had feelings for him? Would he really deliberately hurt you like this?

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

Jungkook couldn’t believe that when he woke up the next morning he was still at the party, sweat running down his back and neck making his skin sticky and gross. As he looked around he was all alone in the bed groaning when he saw the pair of panties on the nightstand with a little handwritten note beside him (Call me sometime ;)!) a phone number attached. Grudgingly he got up and threw out the note, grumbling in disgust, he managed to make it out the front door fully dressed, with his car perfectly intact and parked in the driveway. Looking back at the house small memories started coming back to him and your face flashed right through his mind, in that pretty little skimpy dress. Short that it almost flashed your ass with every step you took, catching the attention of all the boys at the party. 

He scoffed at the memory, especially when he remembered the way your face broke out into horror every time you saw him with a different girl each time that night. Honestly, he was hoping you hadn’t come to the party just so you didn’t see that side of him. That side of him that he hasn’t matured and grown out of.  You were probably hurt you weren't one of them, probably jealous of the girls he had kissed and fucked but he’s glad you weren’t one of them.

He would never disrespect you like that, if he was going to do things with you he would do it right. He would do it right as in take you out on several dates, confessing his love, and hopefully make you his girlfriend by the end of it. That’s the right way, the morally good and safe way to do things. He thinks that’s what you would have wanted, that's what you would have expected from him. But Jungkook doesn’t want that, he doesn’t like pre-planned things, he doesn’t like expectations, nor does he like the idea of being tied down. 

But above all Jungkook doesn’t want to hurt you, hurt the fragile soul of yours that preplans and expects and sees the world in all shades of rainbows and unicorns. Call him a little cynical, a pessimist, (he is) but Jungkook likes the unexpected spontaneous nature of life that randomly brang what belonged to him when he needed it. He liked for things to fall in place and although to a certain extent, he should put in some work for what he wanted he knew that he didn’t want anything romantic to do with anyone right now. Maybe he should let you know then to keep letting your hopes up, but something so gut-wrenching and heart-shattering about seeing you hurt that Jungkook didn’t like. He lived to see the colour in your face, your enthusiasm and the way you’d go hours and hours talking about everything and anything.

And since Jungkook is so convinced that you both would be better off as friends than romantic lovers, why does he have this terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach when he doesn’t see you for the next month? He doesn’t get the bubbly feeling and breath knocked out of him when he sees you walk in with one of your sundresses, only disappointment and beer bellies walking into his shop. He sighs, frustration clear on his face while he tightens the bolts on the bottom of the engine.

Jimin takes cautious notice of his mood throughout the weeks, he watched his eyes always flicker to the door whenever the bell chimes and the disappointment that settled into his eyes after, tells Jimin that maybe he’s looking out for a special chatty bird.

“What’s with you?” Jimin asks, nudging him on the shoulder.

“What’s with what?” faux disinterest laced in his tone.

“You have this sadness oozing out of you and I think it may have something to do with our favourite little customer huh?” he says with a grin and Jungkook chuckles.

“Is it that obvious?” he scoffs and Jimin shrugs.

“Yeah I mean, she hasn’t come in a while and your eyes practically jump to the door every time it chimes,” he treads, and Jungkook groans.

“She won’t answer my texts either, nothing” Jungkook sighs, wiping his oiled hands on his overalls.

“What’d you do?”

“Nothing”

“What’d you do Jungkook.”

“Seriously I don’t know, I’m confused myself,” Jungkook sighs.

“Managed to already hurt her feelings?” Jimin treads around the topic, not wanting to anger Jungkook but also get it out of him. 

He knows your little innocent crush on his friend here, he knows you come in to fix every little thing (although unnecessary really) just to see Jungkook. He knows how Jungkook rolls, he wouldn’t be into the stuff where you date and do all the sappy shit— he didn’t like expected romance, he was more into hookups and spontaneous fucks something you obviously weren’t made for.

“What you think I did something?” He scoffs and Jimin sighs. “She’s just sensitive, she probably saw me with someone at the party, and I didn’t want her to come in the first place but she did and she ended up seeing shit she didn’t like” Jungkook blurts and Jimin hums.

The truth summarised. 

“So really I did nothing, she showed up and she didn’t like what she saw” he shrugs, and Jimin scoffs.

“Why didn’t you want her there?” Jimin asks and Jungkook really wishes he didn’t ask that because he knew the answer. He knew he didn’t want you there because he had a fear of disappointing you and showing you the side of him that he secretly hates, the side where he made out with multiple women and fucked carelessly and to make matters worse he made sure it was in front of you.

Why did he care what you think of him? He doesn’t know and quite frankly he didn’t want to get into that variegated emotions and thoughts because now was not the time. He really thought that the best way of getting you away from him was to hurt you and he knows he did because he saw all the tears slip out of your eyes when you hastily wiped them away at the sight of Jungkook taking another woman upstairs to fuck, he knew by the way you hurriedly scurried out the door in the skimpy little adorable dress that you probably wore just for him. 

Jungkook knew what you felt in your heart, you were very easy to read and he wasn’t dumb. You're pretty predictable and now he regrets not walking up to you normally instead of forcing his tongue down a random woman's throat to purposely hurt you.

Why? He couldn't tell you.

You deserved more, he wanted you to know you deserved more and maybe you finally realized that Jungkook was horrible and that it wasn't worthwhile having a crush on him but why does the lack of you in his life sting his heart. Why does it leave a bitter taste on the back of his tongue, and he can’t shake you out of his mind? 

Jesus

He knew he grew accustomed to your company, he knew that much was true yet when you didn’t show up to the shop as your bubbly old self and did not answer his texts…. has him feeling like shit.

“I didn’t want her there because that wasn’t her type of thing” he answers after a long pause and Jimin gets busy with his task in hand, screwing up the tire in place.

“Uh-huh,” he said off-puttingly and Jungkook raises an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Oh nothing…it’s just that—-You’re a shitty fucking person Jungkook” Jimin chuckles.

“How?” he asks

“Because you’re not honest with yourself, so you end up hurting people for no reason” he shrugs and his shoulder slump.

“You know she likes you, she’s harboured harmless feelings for you over a course of months and she cares for you, yet you end up treating her like shit when she dresses up for you and shows up to a party only to see you deliberately shove your tongue down throats in front of her because you wanted her to ‘back off,” Jimin huffs, air quoting “back-off” with his fingers and Jungkook suddenly feels exposed. A chilling and unsettling feeling rumbled from his chest.

“You don’t even want her to back off, I know you like her back just as much but you just self-sabotage because of your past but guess what Jungkook,” Jimin pauses, hands up to show his frustration.

“ ‘...’ isn’t Sora. You don’t always have to have this facade of smugness and nonchalance. It isn't attractive anymore,” Jimin spat when he finished his job, rubbing his hands with the towel as he walked back into the break room, leaving Jungkook to simmer inside his thoughts.

Damn

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

There is a foundation; eating, sleeping, and the occasional exercise that science proves helps our quality of life. Physically, these are all fundamental elements that help us live a long and fulfilling life (mostly), yet as you grow older and older you no longer depend on your parents to tie your shoes for you and start to form your own perspective on life, and what is most important to you. You realise there is more to life than just being, you no longer want to live for the purpose of living so you go out and find it. 

You go out and seek the purpose for what you’ve been placed in this cruel world for, and somewhere along the journey, you start longing and yearning for something that is out of your reach. You create an unrealistic romanticized version of life in your subconscious mind. Outlets such as books, poetry, and movies may portray these very impractical ways of life in such beautiful and, again, (unrealistic) perspectives, which in the end can conflict with your conscious mind when you come face to face with these scenarios in reality and you’re left unsatisfied.

You expect and set life on this high pedestal to only then realize…. that life is much more complicated and disappointing. Depressing even to comprehend just how hard it is to live, just how hard it is to show vulnerability, to talk about feelings–to show them, to love, to accept, to forgive, to grieve.

It’s hard, truly.

That’s what Jungkook thinks you do, he thinks you’re so bubbly and energetic– so hopeful because you think of life as this big cloud of unicorn dust and stars that shine brighter than the sun.

He sees the hopefulness in the roundness of your eyes, and the adoration that they carry; so much adoration. Especially for him, and it scares the absolute shit out of him. He wishes he didn’t see life from a more cynical view, call him pessimistic but Jungkook would rather already have disappointment set into him like a wired robot and expect the worst of every situation than have that hopeful naive stare you have in your shimmery eyes, expecting everything to go the way you make things out to be only to be left pained in the end.

Yeah…hurt and pained.

Jungkook was always hyper-fixated on being disappointed in the grand scheme of all things, and he only believed that he could feel this way. He could only be the one disappointed but when he sees your lone self sitting in the diner you brought him over for lunch a couple of months ago, chewing on a lame piece of fry, eyes tired and looking down into your milkshake he stiffens.

Visibly, Jimin notices and follows his line of vision, eyes landing on your form that carelessly runs through fries and the book you have on your lap. You seem tranquil, a vibe that neither Jimin nor Jungkook can wrap their heads around but when your head lifts up and your eyes scan the room you finally find his eyes. And Jungkook winces at the loss of joy and passion in them for him. It’s like the fire that kept burning in them full of love and hope was lit out. He half expects you to look back down at your book and avoid him, forgetting that you ever saw him but when you shyly wave and shoot him a smile Jungkook doesn’t think but walks towards your booth–which he now realises is the very same one you both sat in the last time.

“Hey,” you greet, voice hoarse and still soft. Jungkook was lost just staring at you, his eyes dancing across your dainty figure and locking in on the new tattoo on your forearm. It wasn’t big but it was big enough to notice right away, a cute star with a soft circle ringing around it.

“Hey babe, how’s it going?” Jimin asks concern laced in his voice as your eyes softly crinkle from smiling too hard at the pet name. Jungkook stares, heart beating faster as he hears the tired strain in your voice, you seem sunken and look smaller than before. Your eyes don't shine as bright and the glee in your voice was gone.

“Oh I got my car broken into, and my phone was stolen so sorry I didn’t see any of your messages” You blush lightly, your voice growing softer at the end. That explains why you haven’t answered any of his texts and why you didn’t return any of his calls. But he was still trying to figure out what had happened to your energy.

“You taking care of yourself?” Jungkook finally speaks up and your eyes look back and forth,` unable to hold the contact as you clear your voice and look away.

“Yeah, im doing well” You muster a smile and gesture for both of them to join you in the booth.

….

You exchanged your new number with Jimin and Jungkook, walking out of the booth after catching up. You decided to sell your car and invest in another you told them.

The cold breeze of the air kicks in as the moon farewells the sun— and darkness completely takes over the swirl of orange and pink that has painted the sky. Jimin wishes you both a good night and Jungkook lingers a bit longer by your car, looking at you.

“Let me drive you back home” he suggests with a small smile, “You’ve had some drinks” he explains and you chuckle lightly.

“Uhh it’s pretty far Jungkook, how would you get back?” you ask and Jungkook takes the keys from your hand.

“I'll bus back” He smiles and you nod, heart fluttering a million times harder inside the tight confinement of your chest.

Missing Jungkook was an understatement, you’ve done nothing but flaunter your interest in him and shower him with all your attention and love in the past. All you wanted was for him to either reject you or accept you. He was confusing, and although deep down your love for him rapidly grew like wildfire in your heart, the same love that he had shrugged off. The same love that he takes advantage of and deliberately strung along just for his own vile entertainment and pleasure, just for his ego to be nourished from time to time again is the same love…… that realized that you deserved better.

In the grand scheme of all things you had realized that Jungkook could never give you want and need, he won't ease your heart by reassuring you nor would he give you the love you deserve, the stability you deserve. 

And instead of wasting your time chasing after him, who clearly has different motives and different goals for his future, you decided to finally set him free, take a step back, and explore other options in your life.

The least you could do to guard your heart against his cruel ways.

When you’re cute coworker started taking interest in you, you decided to go on a few dates with him over the past month. You weren’t official yet but he made you happy, he truly did. He was the softest most kind-hearted boy, that’s what you used to think Jungkook was or wished he was like.

You idealized Jungkook, you’ve built such unrealistic standards of him and put him on the highest pedestal that you could possibly find. The tattoos, his body, and luscious raven hair were all a blinding vision, all romanticization.

And you feel guilty for doing that, which is why you had stopped coming to see him for a while. You had to clear your mind and stop being a delusional little 13-year-old. You’re a grown 25-year-old woman who has a career, and a promising future. You wanted to get married have children and do the unimaginable most basic cliche things in between. You realized that waiting around for Jungkook would set you back. 

This doesn’t mean you regret the past year of pinning and being whipped after him, you genuinely had a fun time but the sooner you realized the harsh reality, the softer the blow would be, and you wouldn't have to go through a traumatic heartbreak. Or you hoped.

The ride to your house is ghost quiet, only the bustling horns of cars and skyline and street lights illuminate the car, casting a beautiful shimmer onto his face. The soft tune of Sabrina Claudio playing on the radio, humming along quietly as you look out the window.

“Time will be frozen….for us” you sing lowly, and Jungkook takes a second to look at your side profile, a smile growing on his lips.

“You have a nice voice,” he compliments and you giggle shyly, staying quiet and humming along some more. 

You soon arrive at your condo, he parked your car in the garage. You invite him over for some food and made some pasta for the both of you silently eating on your kitchen island, conversation flowing slightly awkwardly with little pauses in between to rack your brain for topics. You could tell he was treading carefully, tentatively and hyperaware. You can see it in the way he speaks between pauses, and actions so timid it’s so unlike him.

“This dress is really pretty,” his hands tug lightly at the laces on the end, skimming your upper thigh lightly. You smile, patting the short piece of fabric down your thighs and Jungkook licks his lips. Eyes land on the white lace garter around your left thigh, catching a sight of it by accident when you hike it up your thigh.

He raises an eyebrow, clearing his throat as you lightly smirk. Suddenly the tensions in the air change, and you lean in closer.

“Thanks, I got it as a gift last week,” you smile, absentmindedly sighing at the way Yoongi bought you the dress to wear for their date, he was supposed to come over later tonight, so you desperately wished to get rid of Jungkook as soon as possible. 

“Are you going to bus back soon, it’s getting late,” you move your body away from his, taking the opportunity to clean the dishes while putting space between the two of you. He lingered confused, staring at you intently as if in deep thought, you can see from your peripheral vision. All of a sudden the air around the both of you got thick, and your heartbeat picked up as soon as he came around beside you, helping you dry the dishes.

“Why am I not welcome anymore?” He jokes, setting the plates down on the drying rack. He slowly trails behind you, trapping both of his arms on either side of your body, leaning his head in slowly and you anticipate the feeling of his body flushed against you but it never comes. Jungkook paused, too busy staring at the bruising mark on your neck, his heart twisting uncomfortably.

Were you seeing someone? Is that why you stopped coming to see him for the past couple of months? He feels anger rising but subdued when you turn around, face inches away from him.

“What are you doing?” You ask and Jungkook scoffs, a bitter chuckle escaping his mouth as he takes a step back.

“If you want me to leave because your little boyfriend’s coming soon, you could’ve just said so” he tuts, and your eyes widen.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you say defensively, eyebrows knitted in confusion.

Jungkook crosses his arms, mockingly mirroring your pouty lips, “You don’t have to be so coy, just tell me to leave,” he says, and your eyes widen, your patience running thin as your blood boils in anger.

Who did he think he is?

Jungkook wanted you to tell him to leave, he wanted to prove a point. Show yourself that you still like him still. But what surprised him was the little smirk on your face, your arms suddenly crossing over to mirror his own and the way you gesture to the door with a tilt of your head.

This was it? Had you truly moved on…? Isn’t this what Jungkook wanted all along though? Why was his heart shattering inside his chest and the air suddenly felt warmer and thin around him? 

Why was the new glint of realization and unhinged gleam in your eyes bothering the fuck out of him. God damn it your eyes shined so much brighter and glowed a thousand times shinier than the moon could have whenever you saw him.

That used to always put his heart at ease, feeling wanted, he loved being desired. Especially when you would stare at him for hours and trace the tattoos along his arms, buy him food and talk his ear off. 

Why was that all gone from the look in your eyes, he felt the coldness in your stare probably caught on to the arrogance his words held, and the smugness he carried himself with.

So he’s surprised when he hears what he hears next.

“Please leave Jungkook, I have someone coming over,” you smile.

You didn’t let him get what he came for, you didn’t let him shatter your self-confidence, nor did you let him fill you with self-doubt. You're a changed woman….

——

Min Yoongi was a special man, a special man that held a special part in your heart. You’ve been seeing each other for a couple of months, and ever since he asked you to be his girlfriend a couple of weeks ago you’ve been head over heels. 

Driving him crazy by drowning him in kisses, and hugs, making him food at unprecedented times of the day and taking it over to him at the university he teaches at.

He was a physics professor, at the age of 30 living in a downtown complex just half an hour away from you(depending on traffic) and although the way you met was kind of unconventional you both had hit it off quite well.

He was the kindest, sweetest man ever, always so thoughtful of you, always treating you with the utmost respect and kindness you deserve. Ever since the last night you’ve seen Jungkook a month ago, the memory of him started fading away slowly, your heart healing and filling your mind with new and fonder memories. 

Like right now, sitting on Yoongi’s lap while he inspects your broken laptop, trying to fix the crashed document for you.

Smiling at him you hear him groan and you coo, kissing his cheek multiple times while he shuts down your computer again to refresh it.

“Baby, I think you need a new computer,” he sighs, taking off his glasses and finally giving you the attention you’ve asked for all night.

You kiss his lips, holding the sides of his face gently while he giggles. “It’s okay, as long as I have you,” you smile stupidly and Yoongi feels his chest tightening with love, butterflies pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

“Plus you can just use my computer for the time being,” he suggests and you nod, burying your head in the solace that was his neck, relaxing the rest of the afternoon in his embrace.

——

“Jimin, your customer is here to pick up his Audi,” Jungkook calls in from the reception area, sharing a brief smile with the young man dressed in a sharply tailored suit, raven hair and mullet cut. He was shorter than him and scrawnier but nonetheless, you could see his biceps buff and curl into the stretched material of his dress shirt. 

Jimin wipes the grease off his hands and onto his jumper, breaking out into a big grin as he shakes his hand. “Ahh Yoongi, good to see you,” he beams and Yoongi bows politely.

“Enough is my car fixed? No more leakage diarrhea?” He jokes with a quizzed eyebrow, earning a chuckle from him. 

“Nah no more liquid shit, let me show you,” he takes him to his car and Jungkook shakes his head with a smile on his lips. He had helped fix the diarrhea problem in the Audi, almost in the shop for a month as they had to wait for a piece they ordered to come. Apparently, his girlfriend has been giving him rides to work and back for the past couple of weeks.

Jungkook washed his hands, running a hand through his now short hair, and eyes trained on his phone, checking out the new sneaker shop downtown to try and visit and get Jimin a gift for his upcoming birthday.

He’s throwing a pool party at his parent's mansion, them being gone for the next couple of weeks. He booked a dj, and bartender and Invited a shit ton of people because according to his own words:

“You only turn 25 once, that’s halfway to the 50 and wrinkly old man that I’ll be” He justified his expensive irrational blow of money.

“Yoongi!” Jungkook hears, he knows this voice way too well. Familiar with the soft rasp to it, and the kindness of every syllable, he regrets it but he looks up. Finding you clad in a beautiful yellow sundress, the one that you wore that one time you came to visit and bring  him lunch, ready to spill about the contents of your day to him.

Your eyes hold a little surprise to them when you spot him and Jungkook wished the whole world swallowed him whole while he stared at you his heart started wildly beating, a specific clench on the left side as he regards your beautiful self. 

You have a life back in your eyes, a certain light and beam in the shines of your irises and his mind switches into a hopeful thought before he sees you look behind him and wave at the young gentlemen through the glass, talking to Jimin.

You look back at him, a certain softness to your eyes as you regard him and walk up closer. “It’s been so long Jeon, Hi,” you say, and Jungkook gulps when he waits for a beat longer to respond; stunned that you are really here, standing here talking to him, especially after the last time you both spoke.

“I’m good,” he responds, eyes glancing between your eyes and lips, then at the tattoo on your forearm. The little star with the winged circle, he assesses it, never had a chance to ask you about it. You slipped through his fingers faster than he would’ve liked. 

You nod, a frown replacing your face when he looks back at his phone, trying to ignore your presence. But really his heart was beating way too fast for his liking, heart clenching in pain and longing….regret.

You disappointedly turn away, a smile right back on your face when Yoongi comes back out with his car keys, he pulls you into his embrace, lingering a kiss on the top of your head.

Jungkook notices this and blinks owlishly.

What did he fucking miss?

“‘….’” Jimin says your name, a surprised gasp leaving his lips when he sees the interaction and in a split second he sends a knowing look to Jungkook, a smirk attached to his gaze.

Jungkook rolls his eyes and continues to watch you catch up with Jimin, blabbering about life and decisions and thinking of moving into the city. He didn’t really hear much because his gaze was on the way your handheld Yoongi’s thumb, squeezing it lightly in nervousness he thinks because you used to do that with him a lot. He grows more irritated when he sees the way you subtly lean your head onto his bicep and seek warmth and comfort in his embrace. Your eyes look everywhere and when they meet him again Jungkook decides to not look away holding your gaze with a pained look on his face you decide to send him a small smile and look away, leaning into Yoongi even further which makes Jungkook furious.

“I’ll send you the address, and don’t bring gifts, it's a no-gift birthday party,” he raised a finger in a warning and you giggled with a roll of your eyes.

“Whatever you say,” you sing, and leave hand in hand with Yoongi once you all exchange goodbyes.

Silence overtakes the garage, Jungkook’s eyes stay on the door that you just left from and finally looks away when Jimin chuckles—throwing an arm over Jungkook’s shoulder.

He sighs dreamily, rather dramatically Jungkook thinks, “If only you weren’t a fucking asshole that could’ve been you, lover boy,” he slaps his shoulder and Jungkook raises his arm, pushing Jimin off but he runs away with a squeal before Jungkook could slap him.

He comes back after a fit of giggles, “But man I hope you're okay,” he says more seriously giving Jungkook a sad smile.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs, showing indifference but the beating of his heart and the croak in his voice betray his words.

——

A beer in hand and other on his phone as he mindlessly scrolls through his feed, he enjoys the bustle outside of the party and the serene calm sound of waves crashing against each other at the terrace of Jimin’s parent's room. 

The party had started a couple of hours ago, not even halfway there as people mingle and talk. He even spotted you, a cute little two-piece clad on your curves. They had little sunflowers on them, small pathetic excuses of triangles covering your nipples but he could imagine the perky pebbles in his face as they erected through the material. The bottom half had a cute see-through mini skirt as a cover-up that covered the bikini yet exposed everything at the same time. 

You looked really good, and when you found his gaze you had sent him a small smile waving a little. But he had looked away escaping out to the terrace to stop himself from thinking about you. To bask in his own misery.

He couldn’t take the sight of you lovingly sitting on Yoongi’s lap, playing with his hair while he conversed around, a beer in his hand while he sat sprawled out on one of the lawn chairs. You had those love-sick eyes that he loved seeing yet he only realized he loved them when they were on him.

You whispered and kissed him lovingly, giggling into his neck as his hands held your hips.

Was he really that fucking funny?

He watched the way he teasingly released the strings on the side of your bathing suit and you gasped and slapped his arm away, quick to tie it back up.

He wished it were him.

Fuck,

He wished he didn’t fuck up, yet here he is fucking up even the friendship you possibly could have had but he cold-shouldered you every time you try and show any kindness, or start a conversation.

He sighs laying on his back while his bicep covers his eyes from the blaring sun, trying to clear his thoughts away from you. He needed to stop thinking of you before he tried to jump off the terrace…

It was indeed an enticing idea at this moment.

Limbs barely contained himself at the mere thought of you having him wanting to torture himself in all kinds of ways. And when he feels the weight of the door to the terrace close shut, a heavy sigh escapes him ready to tell the person occupying his peace to fuck off.

But the words die inside his throat and shove back down into his esophagus when he sees you standing there with a credulous look on your face. Your dainty bikini and mesh skirt that barely covers anything flows with the wind, and your hair also blows in the direction the gust is coming from. 

You look ethereal Jungkook thinks, standing there all meek with a guilty look on your face, looking prettier than ever and that’s when he catches himself slipping, a smile almost etched himself onto his lips and he’s quick to turn away and clear his throat. 

A practiced scowl takes over and he looks back at you again. 

“What?” He asks, he even grimaces when it comes out a bit more aggressively than he intended to, and he feels his heart tug at the pained expression on your face. 

He was angered all of a sudden, it was because of your presence that he was escaping the pool and when he finds you here again it just did something to him.

All the feelings and constant regret, the doubts and fears, what if’s all clouding his mind in an array of emotions either through sadness and agony, or jealousy and anger.

He decided that he feels both when it comes to you, he feels everything when it comes to you and he hates himself for the wrong timing of his realization because Jungkook is beyond repair, and damaged the foundations of your friends so easily, what makes him think he had a chance to get to any level of a relationship with you now that he’s acted like such an asshole towards you?

Jeon Jungkook, ladies and gentlemen.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt I just wanted to get the donut floaty…” you trail off and your face suddenly starts getting warm from the embarrassment you feel from the exaggerated bored expression on his face. If a look could make you cry, it would be the one on his face right now.

“Or never mind I’ll come back for it-” You turn around and roll your eyes.

“You can grab it, I don’t care,” he says, laying back down on his back, glancing up at the clear sky.

You mutter out a weak ‘okay’ and quickly dig through the pile of junk in the corner near Jungkook’s chair. 

Fuck, Jungkook thinks taking a glance at you only to see you bent down, ass puckered out, bikini barely covering your nether region and he uses all the strength in him to look away.

“Can you find it any faster?” He grumbles, getting up to help you search for the damn floaty just so you can get out of here and he doesn’t have your presence interrupting his sulking thoughts…. of well…..you.

“I got it Jungkook you can sit back down,” you sigh, and he mutters curse words underneath his breath cursing whichever wicked person decided to let the fucking universe let this moment happen. 

Once you find the floaty Jungkook also realized he’s also grabbed a part of it, bringing it up at the same time as you, and it’s when you face him that he notices the close proximity between the both of you. You have a sharp stare aimed right at him and Jungkook moves in closer, eyes challenging yours while he slowly bends down to your level.

You breathe out a scoff when he’s near and Jungkook licks his lips, and it’s as if time freezes when he sees the same action of your tongue darting out that he has a small spark of hope lit off inside of him. The hurtful want in his heart tugging him towards you until he’s breathing you in, eyes casting down your face until the worst thing he deemed to be in the ENTIRE WORLD happens.

“Baby did you find the float!” 

Your boyfriend calls out, voice closer to the terrace and you scramble away from Jungkook, pushing at his chest gently while you manage to grasp the floaty in your hands.

“Yes Yoongi I’m coming,” you yell back, pausing at the door for a moment and Jungkook hopes with his whole heart that you turn around. Because if you do then the spark of hope in him…will ignite, it will give him the courage to try again.

But when you linger around longer than usual he sees you walk off without turning back for a single glance his way.

Damn.

———

Jungkook doesn’t see you for the next couple of months, randomly only getting updates from you on your Instagram that he stalks way too often than he should be. It was a guilty pleasure of his reality, it was his way of checking in on you without having to text you and he thought it was safer that way.

It was safer for his heart, and to save himself from embarrassment. But when Jungkook got off the clock today, showered and ready in bed to continue with his daily stalking, he noticed something different on your page. Something was missing and after staring at it for so long he realized the annoying lovesick hand-holding and disgustingly cute couple picture you had up of you and Yoongi—we’re all gone. Not even that you had taken down all your selfie picture he would stare at for hours, but that didn’t kill his mood. 

He was so beyond happy to see that maybe- just maybe you and Yoongi had broken up. Why else would you take down those photos? And every other selfie you had posted between the time period of you two dating. He wonders what’s changed, eager to know what had happened but Jungkook takes this as a sign from god and decides to send you a simple text, something not out of the ordinary. Maybe he shouldn’t consider how things went the last couple of encounters he’s had with you but what can he do?

The only girl he’s ever truly loved and cared for had finally learned her worth and moved on from him.

Ironic of him, truly

Wow he really was a shitty person.

To put things in that perspective Jungkook winces at the way he treated you, he strung you along, embarrassed you, and you took a strike to your dignity because of him.

He claimed that was because he wasn’t ready, or that his past relationship had haunted him, but really…Jungkook loved the attention. He loved it so he sometimes indulged in it, not really thinking about how it would have affected you in the long run.

You: ‘Sorry who is this?’

Had you really deleted his number?

JayKay: ‘It’s Jungkook’

You: ‘Oh uhh… sure we can meet up

His heart races in his chest, cheeks blazing as he finally gets to see you again. Maybe he’d apologize.

Hopefully.

JayKay: ‘Tomorrow I get off at noon, come by and we’ll grab some lunch :)?’

You: ‘Sure’

Jungkook can only hope that you accept the apology that he provides and hopefully his heart.

——

How Jungkook finds himself buried between your legs, your hands wrapped into his black locks while he madly eats at your cunt, he has no idea. But he sure does love the way you whine and sing soft moans out for him, head thrown back while you try and stay seated on the passenger seat of the car he was currently fixing, kneeling on the floor, legs half out the door and on his shoulders.

Shit, he didn’t know his form of apology would come in this way. 

But it just happened.

He holds your thighs open, tongue dipping out to softly lick and tease your folds, come back up to see your cunt spread open, flushed and glistening with his saliva spread so good, he groans.

“God I’ve been wanting to know what you tasted like for so long,” he groans, eyes still admiring his coat of spit on your warm cunt.

“Oh please Jungkook,” you moan, and he smiles coming up to quickly peck you as he gathers the saliva around his teeth, mouth pouting out a spike of spit and it lands straight onto your clit.

“Oh yes!” you pant, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you feel the spit run down your cunt and onto your ass. Jungkook dives right back in, taking both his hands to spread open your folds and nudge his tongue in, shaking his head to also nose at your clit. Your legs shake at the intense pleasure and all of a sudden you feel the sudden knot in your lower stomach form. 

“Oh fuck yes!” You moan out loud, and Jungkook takes this opportunity to come up for air and latch onto your clit, deeming you wet enough to plunge two fingers in. He moved in vampire speed, the soft moans and loud strings of his name only spurring him on, feeling your cunt gush and flutter every few seconds has him riled up in his overalls.

“Needed you for so long, now you're falling apart all over my tongue,” he moans into your cunt, indulging in your taste a little longer until he pulls his fingers out and detaches his mouth from your cunt with one last kiss to it.

“Fuck, stand up”  he says with a grin and disheaveled hair, you got up wobbling on your feet and Jungkook wraps his arms around your waist.

He tugs you closer and cups his other hand around your jaw, kissing your lips with a fierce passion that has your stomach turning and aching with want, butterflies fly throughout your bodies and onto each other clashing with the lacklustre of unsaid emotions between you two: ultimately making this moment even more passionate.

Fuck Jungkook thinks, hands now gripping your waist in an attempt to pull you flush against his pelvis and when you whimper into the kiss he detached himself with one final suck on your tongue and a slow bite on your bottom lip, eyes fiercely gazing down into your own. 

“Fuckkk you're so pretty,” he whispers, eyes skimming down your face, swollen lips, puffy cheeks and you smile coyly, shyly shoving at his chest for the compliment. 

“Come here,” he grins sitting inside the passenger seat of the car, reclining the chair all the way down before he gestures for you to come sit on him.

You throw your legs around his body, straddling him as his hands travel down and grab the flesh of your ass to scoot you closer.

“I didn’t mean my lap babe,” he smirks, and you quirk an eyebrow in confusement, when he manhandles you and drives your legs up higher his body, that’s when you understand and gasp softly.

“A-are you sure?” you ask, concern laced your voice and Jungkook grins, licking his lip as he aligns you over his face, your knees digging into the headrest space that’s available, arms grabbing the ceilings of the 4x4. When he nods in encouragement and you hesitate he delivers a slight smack to your clit making you jolt forwards but he knew you like it when a gush of arousal seeps out of you.

“Mmm okay ok, please tell me if I hurt you, I don’t wanna kill you,” you murmur the last part and Jungkook chuckles. 

“I’d die a happy man,” he smirk before spreading open your lips with his fingers, tongue darting out to lick and suck at your clit with a surprising pressure and Jungkook chuckles when you jolt forwards.

He buries his hand around the flesh of your thighs and holds you down so you don’t run away. “Ride my fucking face,” he grunts, and you don’t hesitate this time, sitting done properly on his face so that his nose aligns with your clit and your folds aim for his tongue. You breathlessly moan when you start moving up and down, and letting Jungkook bring you closer to your high.

“Feels so good,” you whine and Jungkook continues slurping up your cunt juices making sure to help you grind down on his face to get off. 

“Taste”, kiss, “So”, kiss, “Good” he says in between dipping his tongue into your cunt, feeling you pulse and flutter around him and he knows you're close.

“Gonna cum?” he asks and you whine, nodding your head eagerly. You place your fingers in between strands of his hair and slightly angle his face deeper into your clit so he can get you to your end.

Jungkook absolutely loves that you're using him, mouth open wide as he stares into your eyes, stains of tears running down your cheek at the intense pleasure, fuck.

He bucks his hip up to search for any type of release, and then suddenly he feels your legs shake in his grasp, and your head lolling back.

“Oh my god! Yes!” you moan out, riding his face faster and Jungkook braces himself for a couple of seconds to get you off, feeling himself suffocating underneath you, but he lets it happen. His arms loosen around your thighs as you bury yourself deeper into his face.

“Ahh, yes, ohhhh,” you drag out your moans and Jungkook groans against you, hand coming up to smooth over the skin of your thigh in an attempt to lift you off him.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry,” you flush from embarrassment, feeling the heat on your cheeks sore throughout your whole body. You raise yourself up for a moment, cheekily grinning down at his glistened face. You gasp, flying to gather your shirt that had flown off in the process of this, grabbing it to wipe his face meekly, softly dabbing it onto his skin.

“What are you doing?” he chuckles and you wiggle back down to straddle his thighs, softly placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

You’ve missed him so much.

You let your eyes linger on his features, the same ones that you had imprinted into your own head for months, the same bubbly nose, thick eyebrows, and doe eyes that hadn’t been able to leave your mind for the past year. Even when you were in a committed relationship you couldn’t shake them away, even if you were happy with Yoongi you couldn’t shake him away. 

He was one of the reasons why your relationship with Yoongi didn’t work out, amongst others. The guilt was too much, committing to Yoongi when you knew that your heart yearned for another, your mind had that bunny smile plastered in every corner of your mind. 

The same pearly whites that he flashes at your curious eyes gazing down his face, and into his eyes.

“What?” he asks and you shake away from your daze, shyly grinning as you hop off his lap to adjust your skirt.

No.

You don’t want to put your heart through the torture of not knowing where you stand with Jungkook, again. You don’t want the uncertainty and all the doubt it comes with being involved with him.

So you take this time to collect yourself and ask him why he had texted you to come over, surely getting sidetracked this way wasn’t on the agenda that much you can tell by the surprised expression on his face and the initial shock on his tongue meeting your own in a fiery kiss when you first came in.

You cross your arms and smooth down your shirt and skirt, “Why did you text me last night?” you asked.

Jungkook properly wipes his mouth and sits up at the edge of the car to face you, eyes blinking cowardly while he racks his brains for a reason, you think. A reason to mask the truth of course because you know him. This is what he does, leading you into the mud until he doesn't need you.

But you want your answer now and you want it fast. You're tired of playing games with him.

After a prolonged silence, you start to sigh heavily and turn away from him making sure to hide away your broken heart and tear welding eyes from his own.

“I missed you alright, I really did” Jungkook blurts, stopping you in your tracks.

You turn around to face him, an expecting look on your face for him to continue, he blinks doe eyes absolutely lost and your brain moving 200km/hour, you can tell.

Chuckling you throw your head back and scoff, “Is it really that hard for you to tell me you like me?” you ask.

Jungkook’s face goes red, not denying or adding to your statement simply standing up to dust his overalls. You cross your arms over each other raising a brow at his silence.

He doesn’t say anything. After a beat of silence, you scoff, shaking your head in disbelief as you walk out of the garage, without a look back and Jungkook gulps back the lump in his throat. Distracting himself with the car he was working on, the car he had just eaten you out on top of, and his heart clenches repeatedly at your expression of disappointment from him. 

Forever printed into his mind.

—

“I thought you said this was a frat party, not a crack house” you complain, pulling the bottom of your short dress down with every step you take into the house. Hoseok snorts, hand reaching out for yours and you slip your fingers together.

“Do me a favour and shut up for a minute.” he rolls his eyes, eyes teasingly glaring at you. Reaching the living room, Hoseok finally lets go of your hand, calling over his shoulder that he’s getting drinks for the both of you. 

You huff, sitting down on one of the love seats, pulling your phone out. A bunch of hollers and whistles are heard throughout the house but one side of the room drives your attention, glancing at the other side of the huge living space you notice the ping pong games going on. Your eyes curiously dance over to the corner and see a familiar build, he’s shoving his tongue down a girl's throat, a circle of people surrounding them. 

You scoff, of course. When said man winks at her and tries to crane his neck, his eyes meet your own briefly, and you look away quickly. You are not surprised that Jungkook’s getting turnt at a random party with yet another woman. Unaffected anymore you look away, Hoseok finally coming back with drinks and you mumble thanks as he sits beside you, and starts conversations with the people around him. 

Your eyes lift once more and an even more shocking pair of eyes meet yours and at this, your heart leaps a little, it’s Yoongi looking even more handsome with long jet-black hair, his arms and chest looking buffer than normal. He sports a black button-up opened up with a white tank top, baggy cargo and a chain so shiny you can see your reflection.

“Oh ‘....’, Hello” he smiles, a shaky breath escaping him, you smile so wide, immediately jumping up on your feet to greet him, arms wrapping around his neck and his arms around your frame, pulling you so close to him your feet lift off the floor.

“How’s it going,” You sigh, pulling away.

“Good, calm and peaceful,” he lets you go and you smile.

“Just how you like it huh,” and he chuckles.

 “So what, you’re done your placement in New York?” you ask about his job that had stationed him there for a few months, right after your breakup.

“Yeah I finally got a permanent placement here,” he trails off, his arms itching towards you but he wraps them around his biceps instead, crossing them. The obvious instinct to reach out to each other is still fresh, muscles twitching into comfort soothing touches on each other's warm skin. You felt it too, felt your arms reach for his dark locks but had half a mind to control yourself, instead you smile so fondly that your heart squeezes so tightly. 

Two lovers who star gazed, spent hours upon hours in each other’s bed, body intertwined, souls intertwined. It’s a bittersweet moment, and you think Yoongi can feel it too, with the way his smile matches your own. 

You’ve always appreciated Yoongi, and always will. He was the first person that taught you what love meant, the first person to show you how you should be loved. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would have been end-game, you think you’d be in love with him so hard. You don’t believe in the right person wrong time, but you sure do believe that Yoongi and you were meant to be in another universe, another era of your life…..if your heart wasn’t already struggling with the feelings of another man, you’d think that Yoongi would've been for you. 

—

Jungkook’s eyes stay glued to the way you smile and the way your hands naturally intertwine with Yoongi’s, animatedly talking. Yoongi matched the smile you sport, a gummy smile he reserved for you, otherwise, his eyes were stern, a look so means that people could think he was killing em with it. 

The dynamic between you two was weird, you guys seemed as if you have nothing in common, you are so bubbly and outgoing and Yoongi just seems so- unbothered and low energy. Jungkook guesses that you both mesh perfectly despite the differences like you both were end-game even broken up and it has him discouraged. 

You looked so happy, and Jungkook cursed under his breath, insecurity and jealousy bubbling inside of him. 

“We shouldn’t,” you say, and Jungkook’s ear perks up nicely looking at the way your gaze softly cracks its calm facade, distress clearly on your face as you turn and find his gaze. Yoongi’s head turns his way as well and he has half a brain to look away. You must have said something about him because what is the coincidence of the both of you looking his way at the same time? 

He notices Yoongi is not by your side by the end of the night. You get out at the same time as him.

“You good?” he asks, eyes watching the way your frame sways side to side, eyes slightly puffy and glossy, but you still have a smile on your face. Maybe you’re a bit tipsy.

“Yes Jungkook, im good” you sigh, and he doesn’t miss the slight irritation in your voice.

“Good….. that's, good” it falls silent between you both and Jungkook lingers around, staring at your side profile as you type away on your phone. He doesn’t know why he stays around for longer but he talks again, to get the conversation going.

“I was thinking about what you said last time…” he trails off, he wasn’t lying he was thinking about the last conversation you both had, but he didn’t mean to tell because he has no idea where he is going with this.

“Okay,” you respond, eyes trained on your phone as if you didn’t believe him.

“So…yeah” he concludes, sighing deeply when he fails you yet again.

“What did I say last time?” you ask, putting your phone back into your purse.

“I don’t remember saying much for you to think about,” you chuckle, crossing your arms, mirroring him.

“Im sorry,” he swallows and he watches your face break out into an amusing one, scoffing lightly.

“Ok” you blink, and Jungkook’s eyes almost tear up from frustration. He’s good at reading people, and he’s taking your disinterest in this conversation badly. He really knows he’s fucked up, beyond repair.

“Well if you don’t know what you want still,” you pull out your phone, “I’ll be on my way”.

“How are you getting home?” he asks in panic, he needs to have this conversation with you.

“Uber.”

“Let me take you, we can stop by and grab some burgers from-”

“Jungkook,” you sigh defeatedly. Raising an accusatory finger up at his chest you step closer.

“I don't have time for you anymore, you’ve wasted my time over and over again and Im tired of this back and forth between us. You made it very clear you don't want me like that, and I’ve learned to accept it. But you keep hanging on to me, you keep….keep– hurting me.” You whisper the last part and that has Jungkook grabbing your wrist.

“That’s not it, I do want you ‘....’” he sighs and his eyes are teary now, watching you trying to wiggle away from his grip on you.

“You never let me finish talking, there's so much I want to tell you” he sighs, you wipe your tears with your sleeve, pliant in his hold now.

“My intentions were never meant to hurt you, I never meant to make you suffer. I struggled at first, and then you got into a relationship, and now you’re single, I had and still have to respect that.” He takes in a deep breath.

“You wanna know why I broke up with Yoongi Jungkook, you want to know why I’ve left possibly one of the most loving people I’ve met in my life……hmm?” you press, jabbing your finger into his chest and Jungkook stumbles back.

“Because I was in love with a coward! a stupid fucking coward, who couldn't confess back to me all because he wanted to keep fucking around” you yell, voice breaking out at the end, and his fucking heart aches.

Aches cause it’s now that it really hits him how much he has hurt you. 

He never intended that, ever.

Fuck.

“‘…’ I-” he says your name but you scoff sharply, chuckling but no humour is found in your tone.

“I thought loving you was supposed to be the best thing ever, but all it’s done is hurt me and I guess it’s my fault for springing my feelings onto a man that doesn’t want them,” you sniff, a weakened smile on your exhausted face and Jungkook breaks.

He grabs your arms to wrap around him, hard tears falling off his own eyes when you bury your head into his chest. It’s like letting a dam go, all this time he’s been keeping you at arm's length for what? Because he’s scared? Scared of committing, scared of disappointing you.

Scared, Scared, Scared.

What a coward.

What a coward Jungkook is.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry baby I never wanted to hurt you, it was never supposed to be like this….” he says. And all of a sudden he’s angered, frustrated at you. Why did you have to love him of all people, 

And why did he have to love you back?

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆

3 Years Later

Spring is such a love-hate season. You either enjoy the wildlife and plants, or resent them very, very, much. You're in between the two right now, trying to enjoy the beautiful flowers that grow in your garden, and keeping up with your plant shop that has different lilies and sunflowers sprouting, beautifully— you may add. But as you fail to control your sneezing and red eyes, you decide to pop another allergy pill that may do the trick, you think.

You're just glad that the weather isn't so wet and dull, and well on its way into the warmer season and bikini tops. Sighing lightly you manage to finish your watering and inventory for today, deciding to take your lunch around noon, you lock the shop and put up the lunch sign. There’s a cafe that has just opened down the road and you’ve been wanting to check it out for a while, it keeps coming up on your feed and Hoseok has been bugging you to try it out. 

Walking in you take a look around the beautiful shop, it was wooden and green themed, with lots of plants and high ceilings that showcase the sun beaming on the customer's faces. It smelled even more divine as you took in all of the blueberry and raspberry scones on display, chocolate croissants, and the smell of all types of coffee roasts. You are probably the biggest coffee fiend, being able to tell the difference between dark, blonde, and regular roast coffee. It was a gift, but it was also the skills that come along with being an addict.

The man in front smiles at you, “What can I get for you?” he asks and you can't help but beam, ordering every flavour of scones and a matcha latte, your heart already full of happiness from the beautiful array of desserts, making sure to snap a picture at one of the tables and sending it to Hoseok and your mom.

You enjoy your little scones and latte, getting up to grab some napkins at the register-

“Hyung it’s been a while,” you hear the barista address the man at the counter, with a mouth full of the blueberry scone and napkins midway to wiping your lips you take a glance at who he is addressing.

No-

You chuckle lightly to yourself, blinking a couple of times to confirm the face you see and it's more than enough evidence when he speaks, ordering two drinks.

Fuck

You quickly swallow the scone, moving back to your seat and accidentally make eye contact with him on the way of you rush out. You see a flash of recognition twinkle in his eyes yet you fleet fast, and far away back into your shop, basically running down the block like a mad woman.

You don't know why you reacted that way. Maybe it was because you haven't seen him in so long or maybe it was the woman that he had tucked in between him and his arms, a fond smile on his face as he regards her, ordering drinks for the two.

Your heart starts to clench uncomfortably, the night you last saw him replying in your mind.

“I think it’ll be best for the both of us to go our separate ways, Jungkook” You smiled sadly, unravelling from his embrace. You saw the stain on Jungkook’s shirt, salty tears from you seeping onto his skin.

“You should learn to love someone the right way, and when you find that person I hope you’ll treat them the way I would've liked to be treated,” You say, watching the Uber arrive. You reached up on your tiptoes to leave a kiss on his cheek, one that prolonged longer than it needed to and Jungkook can feel the depth of it in his soul, in his heart….slicing through it.

“I will, ‘...’ I will baby,” he swallowed.

That was how you both had ended things over three years ago, you finally grew the balls to  block him on all social media, his number, and his face from your mind years ago…. until today. You know you’ve moved on. You have, you have moved into the city finally, opened up your little floral shop with whatever savings you’d have left and fled your boring office job. You loved life, you loved being alone and cropping all day long. 

You had developed a new routine, new habits, new crushes, new experiences, new feelings, new friends, and most importantly a new mechanic in all those three years alone. Technically Jimin wasn’t new but you both had gotten closer, common interests and the building you both had lived in had brought you both together. He has become one of the most important people in your life today, and rather than bombarding you with everything that went down with his buddy, he has managed to successfully divert you from the pain. And it was like you didn’t know a Jeon Jungkook. 

He had disappeared from the face of the earth because you had forced yourself to forget his existence, and it worked. Until today, until you had to see him today so happy with his girlfriend. Although that makes you happy that he has found someone, that he has matured enough to develop a relationship like that, the feeling had a bittersweet taste on your tongue.

—

“Don’t bring any more pies because I currently have like five of them sitting on my kitchen counter, I beg,” Namjoon complains through the phone. 

You chuckle, carefully placing the blueberry pie onto your lap on the passenger seat, “Well that’s what happens when you host a dinner party, Jimin and I are gonna be there in 20 minutes,” you make a kissy sound into the phone before putting it down.

“I bet he doesn’t have a blueberry pie yet,” Jimin chuckles, reversing out of the parking spot and you shrug.

“He said there’s already five pies, three out of those five are probably apple, and the other two are pumpkin” You shrug and Jimin chuckles at your blurt.

“Perhaps,” he says. A frown settles deep onto his face while he drives and you notice it but don't say anything, humming along to the radio.

“I would much rather ditch this for a movie and a greasy burger,” Jimin winks and you roll your eyes.

“Hey, we can’t be rude he prepared dinner and plus I thought it would be nice for us to interact and make new friends.” You pout and Jimin chuckles, a little nervously but you brush it off.

“Okayyyy…. But if you change your mind just let me know we still got a block left” and you giggle slapping his arms playfully.

—

Well fuck….

Grabbing Jimin’s arms before he can zoom past you and into the living room, you hiss into his ear, “Why is he here?” you say interrogatively, and Jimin blushes lightly, wincing from the hold you have on his ear.

“Fuck, im sorry ‘..’ I tried to get you to bail,” he shrugs and you huff, taking your heels off as you scramble past him to greet Namjoon.

Jungkook and his partner are here and you do your absolute best to not get their attention in the huge living room Namjoon has, constantly keeping yourself ten feet away you think you're successful until Namjoon asks, “Oh have you met Jungkook and his fiance?” he pulls you towards them.

The air is knocked out of you as you hear the word fiance, but you collect yourself, your heart weirdly clenching as you make eye contact with them. Namjoon introduces you both and you shake her hand, watching as the beautiful petite woman shyly greets you and makes conversation. You have half a mind to nod and answer vaguely, eyes roaming her small face, plump lips, red hair, dress tightly fitted around her hips and waist perfectly. 

“Nice to meet you kyomo” you tightly smile, you can feel the obvious gaze of Jungkook eyes on your face so you turn and greet him as well.

“Jeon,” you nod, and he pronounces your name back.

Namjoon looks between you both, your hand sliding into his smooth one softly as he shakes it slowly. He seems to never look away and you find yourself not being able to do the same.

His hair is short now, and his lips sport a silver ring. He’s wearing a plain black shirt and slacks that make him look mature and put together. You think you can smell his signature cologne on him still, strong and musky, yet soft and gentle just like his face. He’s bigger, broader than you remember and he still has brown doe eyes that expand and sparkle, you always loved to say he wore his emotions in his eyes. You could always just tell from them.

“It’s been a while, how are you?” He asks and you slide your hand from him, taking a step back, glancing away.

“Good, I'm gonna go find Jimin Joon, enjoy your night guys,” You're quick to retreat out of the situation, heading right for the bathroom upstairs and turning on the water. Your lips tremble slightly and your eyes are welled up with tears, why? You don’t know because you have been over him for years now.

You can’t breathe, and you can’t seem to shake away the painful ache in your heart that seems to beat faster and harder just thinking about him now, him getting married, him getting mature, him moving on from you so fast.

He’s getting married, Jungkook is getting married.

“You in here,” you hear your name being called from the other side of the bathroom door, you open it immediately getting pulled into an embrace. Jimin’s arms wrap around your frame as you quietly sob into his shoulder, he knows. He doesn’t ask because he knows.

They always said distance made the heart grow fonder, but you just think that your heart likes to set you up for the worst.

—

The party goes on, roasted dinner praised by everyone and you watch as Joon blushes, telling everyone to keep their voice down. Once finished, everyone heads over to the patio for some drinks and desserts. You offer to clean up, and after much protest Namjoon lets you, and you pat his back in appreciation.

 “You already did so much tonight it’s the least I could do.”

Gathering the dishes and throwing out plastic utensils and cups you manage to clear the dining table, you look through the cabinets for a pair of gloves to get started on the dishes, rummaging through cupboards and cupboards.

“I think he keeps them above the stove,” You recognize that voice, and you muster a tight-lipped smile, reaching up to grab it but failing to do so with how high it is.

“Here,” he offers, coming up behind you to open the cupboard and grab them. You shut your eyes tightly and manage a calm facade when he hands it to you, thanking him with a mumble before you put them on.

“You gonna need help?” he asks after a moment of you gathering dishes. Help would be nice, but you wouldn't prefer it from him.

“Nah im good, thanks” you smile, getting to work.

Jungkook chuckles, grabbing a pair of gloves for himself, “Scoot over, I'm helping” he says and you momentarily meet his gaze and look away without a word as he helps you soak and put dishes into the dishwasher.

It’s quiet for a while, successfully cleaning the dishes and loading the bigger pots in the dishwasher.  

Jungkook’s staring again, a little awkward so you speak up.

“How long have you been together?” you ask, and you can see Jungkook visibly stiffen.

“Over 2 years now,” he says, and you nod. You make a move to wipe the tables and Jungkook’s coming to help you again.

“I think I’ve got this, you can go and join everyone outside” You turn around abruptly, stopping him in his tracks. 

“I thought we could catch up,” he smiles. And you almost scoff out loud, whether you're bitter because of Jungkook’s marriage announcement or the fact that he has the audacity to try and keep things natural between the two of you as if he didn’t break your heart in two….

Maybe the latter but it still hurts. And all of a sudden everything feels fresh like he just left you a day ago, broke you a day ago. 

There’s a reason why you both didn’t work out? Was it because of Jungkook incapabilities to communicate or his lack of feelings for you? You don’t know but one thing you do know is that Jungkook never really loved you like he said he did if he wasn’t able to work on his problems for you. 

Jungkook never loved you enough 

Enough enough enough 

You weren’t enough for him and the thought has bile rising up your stomach. It has your heart skipping beats and incredible hurt seizing through you. 

You were never enough.

“There’s nothing much to catch up on really, I-”

“I’m sorry for the way things ended,” he sighs, your name slipping past his tongue so tiredly.

“Look, can we just look past this and- and be friends again?” he’s hopeful, he looks hopeful. His eyes are tender and his body language screams frustration.

Perhaps

“Of course” You reach a hand out to him, he’s smiling, putting his bigger hand with yours for a handshake. You feel….okay. This feels okay now, your heart doesn’t feel like it’s ripping in two and for once you're not reminiscing about the past. 

Your content, you’ve moved on.

“Let’s work on our friendship this new year, let’s not look back anymore Jungkook,” you say and Jungkook nods eagerly. 

“I agree.” 

There was no hatred, no passive tone, no hidden anger or jealousy in your words. You truly meant it, and you hope he understands.

“Baby, are you coming?” Kyomo calls and Jungkook’s eyes leave your face to his fiancés on the patio. His beautiful wife stands, reaching a hand out for him to grab. He looks back at you, but you encourage him with one last nod and divert your attention back to the counter.

“Yeah, yeah I am….” he trails off, you think you see him send a small smile your way before he goes out but you don’t care anymore. 

You're just happy you're free now.

[babymorte]

i’ve basically lost my entire friend group in the span of a month so i think this is my sign that i just shouldn’t have friends.

so from now on i guess my only option is to act as professionally as possible in all interactions. i really just don’t want to deal with anyone at all at this point. my trust in repeatedly being broken, boundaries are basically non existent and i have mutuals thinking im in love with them and anonymously harassing me over it instead of having conversations like actually fucking adults.

im just so exhausted of putting my all into people for it to just blow up in my face. so i guess this is the kiki yall are stuck with now sorry. im tired of people getting the wrong ideas about me and creating their narratives and using my openness as an excuse to say or do whatever they want to me when they know exactly what they’re doing. im tired of the excuses and im tired of the manipulation. i just dont care anymore and i have no desire to talk to anyone at this point.

[mbappeward]

arguing with your boyfriend while you're on your period - kylian mbappe imagine

umm hi... ig im back?? the past months were a rollercoaster for me, i graduated high school and im now in uni studying biomedical sciences which is kinda hard but yeah at least its fun. however the main reason i couldnt post was bcs i was focusing on my mental and phsyical state, i got diagnosed with different anxiety disorders and its been really hard for me. but writing distracts me and brings me peace, so ig i should write more loll. anyways enjoyy :)

on and on with your boyfriend, it had been five minutes with the both of you just yelling back and forth. Actually, you were the one doing most of the yelling, he just sat there annoying every part of you.

"kylian just because you don't want to talk about it does not mean you get to walk out of the room." You yelled. The both of you were talking casually until he said something along the lines of going out with his friends tomorrow, and all you replied with was how he wasn't spending much time with you lately, and how lonely you felt. What did he do? Walk out the door. "I don't want to argue right now, i'm sick of it. I'm leaving." He spat out, letting a mocking sigh of frustration as he walked out the door. The fact that he walked away without letting you talk about your feelings angered you, so you followed him out.

"listen to me, you're making a big deal right now. nothing happened. I don't get why your yelling, you know everytime you accuse me of something it turns into an argument, and I'm honestly just not in the mood right now." He mumbled while looking at his phone. His response was so hurtful towards you, thinking back to all the times you were there for him and would listen to him.

"You think I'm being overdramatic?" You asked, your calm just as irritatingly calm as his. He nodded his head, face still looking towards his phone, his eyes were never on you, and you just wanted some respect.

You felt the pain in your abdomen worsen as you yelled through the pain. "Y-your not even looking at me. Why is it so hard for you to listen to me??" You scream out, a small lump forming on your throat. He threw his phone next to him, stood up and looked up at you for a quick second before looking away. He then turned back to you. 

"Y/n, I'm not trying to hurt you, I was only trying to avoid an argument." He whispered. "I wasn't trying to argue, I was trying to speak my side. I just wanted to tell you how I feel so empty without you here. You're most of the time at training and by the time you get back you're so tired to spend time with me. These free days are when we can actually spend time together." You mumbled. He gave you a look before looking up.

"But what about me? I never have breaks so when would I ever go out with my friends and do something I enjoy?" He spoke. His words felt like a stab to your heart.

"Do something you actually enjoy? Fuck off Kylian, you could have just broken up with me if being with me is something you don't actually enjoy. You know what? Do whatever the hell you want, I'm gonna be the one to leave now." You spat, walking out the door. 

The moment you walked outside, a rush of cold wind hit your face, your body automatically starting to shiver. You blamed yourself for not bringing a jacket, but just thought of going back soon. You found an empty bus stop to sit at, and decided it would be a good place to think about something to distract you, but that's when the pain started getting worse. Your hands grabbed onto your lower stomach and you squeezed your eyes shut, hoping it would make the pain subside. All you wanted to do was to be in your boyfriends embrace, for him to cuddle you, kiss you, cook for you, take care of you, and just love you. But right now, from his words, it seems like he didn't enjoy being with you, which one made you feel worse.

It got to the point where you didn't know if you were crying over kylian or the pain, but you decided it was both. You were never good with cramps, and you were extremely sensitive. Kylian was always aware, but this time it seemed to slip his mind that you needed him.

He was at home, thinking back at everything to see where he had made a mistake, his hands were fisted up as his heart began to ache out of fear. The moment he laid his eyes on the jacket he knew you were outside freezing. It was extremely late and it was freezing outside, and you didn't even take a jacket with you. Forgetting about the argument, he rapidly stood up, deciding to look for you. As he was taking his jacket out the coat rack, he noticed the chocolate wrappers littered in the counter and the painkillers you used for your period left there. It was then when he realized, you were on your period. You did not like sweet things, and if you were eating this much chocolate, it could only be one

reason.

"Fuck." He mumbled, grabbing the car keys and running out the door. His footsteps echoed around the streets as he got to the car. He hoped that you were okay. As he looked around while driving, you were nowhere to be found, and he only started panicking. He took out his phone, hands barely being able to hold the phone from how much he was panicking.

Finally, after getting a hold of himself, he pressed on your contact, praying that you would pick up, but to his luck, it went straight to voicemail. If anything happened to you, he would not be able to forgive himself. He cursed under his breath, his vision becoming blurry as he thought about the worst case scenarios. He should have never been so hard on you when you were only trying to spend time with him. Guilt filled his body as the only thing he wanted was for you to be in his arms.

He kept looking around the neighborhood and that's when he found a figure sitting in an empty bus-stop. His heart almost beat out of his chest as he found you. After making sure it was you, he parked the car nearby and sprinted, glad to see that you were okay.

"You idiot." He mumbled as his voice wavered. It was laced with fear. "If you're just here to insult me then you can leave." You mumbled, looking away. Kylian immediately took off his jacket, wrapping it around your form as he gently held your face, bringing it close to his so that he could kiss you. You flinched from how warm his lips felt against yours, but slowly melting into him. No matter how upset at him you were, you were always his, and you could never resist him. As you were kissing, you began to feel droplets of what you thought was rain falling on you. Breaking away from the kiss, you saw the first snowfall. You've heard of couples kissing on the first snowfall, but never about it snowing as you were kissing.

Kylian pulled you into a hug, as you shivered and hugged him back. The cramps started getting worse and worse by the moment, and before you knew it, you started crying again. Taken aback, Kylian stared at you with fear, examining you to see what was wrong. You held onto him tightly, telling him your stomach was hurting, another pang of guilt hitting him for not taking good care of you. "Aw my baby...I'm so sorry, it'll be okay, I promise. Come let me carry you and get to the car." He kissed your head. You were too in pain to reject him, so you let him carry you to the car. You felt calm and though the pain was still there, it wasn't as bad as it was before. He put you in the front seat next to him and adjusted the seat so you were laying down instead of sitting. The cramps were getting worse. He hated seeing you in pain. He covered you with a blanket he had stored in the back seats. You were still sniffing here and there as your mood swings and cramps were getting the best of you, and that you really felt uncared for through his words, though he probably didn't even mean it. During the car ride home he put on calm music. After you got home, Kylian carried you carefully bridal style. He opened the door and softly laid you down on the couch and you looked up with half lidded eyes. You had almost fallen asleep on the ride back. The lights started to wake you up as you whined, wanting to go back to sleep. You wanted to make everything okay again.

Kylian was about to head to the bedroom to go get something until you held his hand. "D-did you mean it? When you said you wanted to do something you actually enjoy and that was to go out? Am I too boring?" You mumbled. He sighed before sitting right by you. He leaned down towards you as he placed a kiss on your forehead, and then your nose, and then your lips.

"N-no. I didn't mean it. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have walked away when you were talking to me like that. I should have listened to what you were going to say. I'm sorry I didn't take care of you, I'm sorry you had to go through this because I'd me. I do love you, so much.

And I promise we'll solve our conflicts together. Okay? we'll talk the rest out tomorrow, rest and sleep now okay?"

You nodded, trusting his words. He was never one to disrespect you and you know he wouldn't say anything like that and mean it. You decided you'd just talk to him tomorrow and that you'd go to bed for now. He made you mean to eat and put a heat pack on your stomach as he peppered your face with kisses and rubbed your belly so that you could go to sleep. You cuddled against his chest as he hummed a tune that you could sleep too. He cooed at your sleeping figure. He pressed a last kiss against your head after passing out right next to you.