#not to mention that I kept a full breakdown bottled up after hearing the news

[angrybatart]

Got some terrible news on Friday, and needed to draw something that made me happy to straighten my thoughts. Started this last night, but am not really happy with it. So I'm going to work on it off and on until it looks right to me. I'll post the full picture when I do.

[snackhobi]

pairing: taehyung x reader / word count: 13.3k / genre: fluff, friends to lovers, smut (NSFW, 18+)

summary: you’re used to being in love with taehyung. you’ve had a lot of time to get good at it, after all—by this point you’re the world’s expert at keeping your less-than-platonic feelings hidden from him, what with the amount of practice you’ve had.

but then he signs up for a massage therapy course, because apparently you can never catch a break.

or: the one where taehyung gives you a full body massage and then some.

warnings: sexually explicit content, massage with a happy ending (literally 🤧), cursing, edible massage oil/lube, fingering (f), unprotected sex (be safe when you have sex please), multiple orgasms (f), oral sex (m), cum swallowing, pet names, body worship?, brief mention of shower sex

a/n: I swear this was meant to be pwp. this was literally meant to just be pwp with some massage shenanigans. and then I blinked and it had become a soft 13k fic which honestly… kicked my ass quite a bit. but I hope you enjoy it!! thank you as always to @hobi-gif​ for beta reading this and encouraging me and putting up with me changing this multiple times, what would I do without your support miss hope?

--

Taehyung goes through a lot of different phases.

He just finds so many things interesting. Photography, art, art history, music, fashion, thrift shopping; heck, there was even the time he got weirdly into making tea and became some sort of connoisseur, going through the whole rigmarole of buying the loose leaves and weighing them out, checking the temperature of the water, brewing for a precisely measured amount of time.

You still remember the look on his face when you said it all tasted like hot leaf water to you.

Because, of course, as one of Taehyung’s best friends and his roommate, you’re inevitably swept up in everything he does. You’re used to the weirdly acrid smell of photo development fluid and how cold dark rooms can get. You use phrases like chiaroscuro and sfumato to describe the simplest things after listening to Taehyung do the same for so long. You’ve lost count of the amount of times you’ve tripped over his saxophone case when he leaves it lying around the apartment. You regularly wear the baggy t-shirt with the face that Taehyung had painted on it—even if you still refer to it as the Squidward-House-Shirt despite the fact you know he was inspired by Basquiet and Schiele and not the Easter Island themed stone head that Squidward lives in.

You don’t mind getting dragged along with whatever he does, honestly; you don’t have time to attend every class, but go with him when you can. It’s always good to expand your horizons. You also love watching Tae’s face whenever he learns something new, the various expressions that flit across his features—from wide eyed excitement and eyebrow raising astonishment to the more solemn side that appears whenever he’s taking something in and thinking deeply about it, turning it over in his mind, mulling on it.

(You love watching Tae’s face all the time, actually, but that’s a whole other can of worms you’d rather keep shut.)

However, the latest course he’s signed up for is not one you’d been expecting.

“Massage therapy?” Your face twists in equal parts confusion and surprise.

Taehyung’s dropped this latest nugget of information while you’re cooking, trying to fry some rice while also peering at the phone screen that’s been thrust into your face. You’re not bad at multitasking, per se, but Taehyung’s iPhone is drifting so close that you’re almost cross-eyed and it’s blocking you from seeing what’s going on in the pan. 

“I had a coupon,” he says, as if that explains everything. (It doesn’t.)

“Scooch,” you say, and he immediately moves so you can turn the gas off.

“Jiminie and Jungkookie say that my massages help with dance, and that's just from Youtube tutorials.” Taehyung continues to talk as you bustle around the tiny kitchen. He’s already set the table so now he’s free to watch you finish doing the rest of the work. “And Joon-hyung says I have the perfect hands for it.”

You fumble with the pan as you’re scooping the steaming rice into a large bowl, only just managing to save food from scattering everywhere. You’ve thought about Taehyung’s hands a lot, about how large and long fingered and beautiful they are, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Really? Huh. That’s nice.” You stare at the pan, fixated on getting every grain of rice so you can avoid looking at Taehyung’s face. And hands. Which are still cupped around his phone. Which looks so small in his big, pretty grip.

Jesus Christ.

“It means I can give you massages if you ever start to get tense.” Taehyung sounds pleased, lovely grin on his face at the prospect of being able to rub his hands over you. As if that isn’t going to make every single one of your muscles lock up and turn you into some sort of coiled rope of a human being, which is the complete opposite of what a massage is supposed to achieve. 

“Great.” Despite your inner turmoil, your voice is level and steady as you meticulously scrape the last grain of rice into the bowl, chasing the tiny fleck of white around the huge pan. Scrape, scrape, scrape. “Sounds fabulous. Can’t wait.”

Of course Taehyung would sign up to learn something that he could use to help his friends. He’s so big-hearted and loving. Big-hearted and loving and kind and funny and affectionate and beautiful and deep-voiced and so entirely overwhelming in every single way imaginable. 

You do what you always do when confronted yet again with your all-consuming crush—you bottle that shit the fuck up until he’s not in the room.

And then you have a miniature breakdown at Pickles.

“I am going to die,” you whisper-scream. “He’s going to offer to massage me and he’s going to get a bottle of massage oil out and he’s going drizzle it onto his massive hands and I am going to fucking die.”

The bearded dragon cocks his head as he stares at you. Taehyung had come home with the reptile one day, tank and all, saying that someone on Facebook had been giving him away because they were moving house and could they just look after him for a little while, please, pretty please? Until they found a good home for him? Please?

That was over a year ago. (You’ve always been bad at saying no to Taehyung.)

“I hate my life,” you lament to the lizard, but then you hear the noisy flush of the toilet and know that Taehyung is going to emerge from the bathroom soon, so you have to wrap this miniature meltdown up pronto. “I wish I was a bearded dragon too, you know. All you do is get fed and sit under the heat bulb. Your life is so easy. You don’t even know what capitalism is.”

The silence you get from Pickles is far more support than you get from your human friends once you tell them. Yoongi just raises his eyebrows while Seokjin and Hoseok laugh outright in your face, just like they always do when you cry to them about Taehyung.

You need new friends. These ones are defective. (If only you’d kept the receipt so you could return them.)

“We learned how to do neck and shoulder massages today!” Taehyung says brightly after the first session.

You hum in response. You’re rewatching Pacific Rim together, cuddled up against Taehyung’s side, and you don’t have to turn your head to know what expression is on his face. There’ll be that little upturn to his lips, happiness at learning something new. That warmth in his eyes at being able to share it with you, even if you couldn't be there with him. Those little freckles on his face, under his eye, his nose, his lip; the one you’ve imagined kissing more times than you can count.

“My teacher says I have a natural talent with my hands,” he adds, and you’re so grateful that you can blame your sudden intake of breath on the scene that’s playing on the screen, as high stakes as it is. 

“That’s nice,” you say, and mentally pat yourself on the back at keeping the strain out of your voice. You've had a lot of practice at this. “I’m not surprised, though. You’ve always been good at doing things with them.”

That’s not a euphemism. Taehyung’s always so careful when he makes things; you’d learned how to fold different origami patterns together, matching crane for crane, lotus for lotus, and he’d always been so delicate with his fingers. He’s always so careful and considerate with you, too, fingers splayed wide across your shoulder as he squeezes you closer to his side, leaving you breathless.

“I wish you could come too.” Taehyung sounds disappointed. “We always have so much fun together.”

For the first time in your life you’re grateful that your manager at Olive Chicken is such a hardass and won’t let you swap shifts, so you’d had to miss signing up for the massage course with Taehyung—because you know there’s no way you’d be able to keep it together if there was some sort of tandem practice in class or whatever. Your crush on him is filled with equal parts of tenderness and lust and you’re well aware of that. You’d rest your hands on the soft skin of Taehyung’s shoulders and back, the lust would overwhelm you, and you’d immediately burst into flames like some sort of demon stepping over the threshold of a church. 

Why oh why did God have to make Kim Taehyung so hot?

Why oh why did God have to make you so�� not?

You know Taehyung doesn’t see you in a romantic light at all. You’re grateful for this deep, platonic relationship you have, and you love him to pieces, but holy hell is it hard to walk around with Kim Taehyung looking the way he does and wanting to jump his bones while simultaneously being aware that it’s never going to happen. Whenever he smiles at you, or touches you, or holds you, it’s in exactly the same way as he treats any of his friends—and as happy as you are to be one of those friends, it also kind of kills you inside. 

(Because you know you don’t have a chance, have never had a chance, and will never have a chance.)

The idea of offering to massage Taehyung is one that makes you want to melt into a puddle of horny goo. But when he offers to massage you, it’s because you’re a convenient practice partner who he’s comfortable with. It’s no big deal. You could strip naked and slather yourself up in oil and stand in front of him with your bosoms heaving and say ‘Have at me, big boy’ and Taehyung would say: ‘Sweet! A chance to practice deep tissue massage! Gee, thanks for being such a great pal!’

The kind of deep tissue you want Taehyung to massage is very different to whatever he’s talking about.

… Anyway.

You manage to avoid Taehyung using his apparently magic fingers on you for a surprising amount of time, though you’re kept up to date with his progress, because he shares everything with you and tells you about everything and you always, always listen. Because, more than being your crush, he’s one of your best friends and you love him.

Which is why you try your best to be gentle, graciously refusing his offer of a shoulder massage after he sees you wincing, even if with anyone else you’d just tell them to back off with zero hesitation.

“It’s fine,” you say, flapping a hand at him. “I just slept on it funny.”

“A massage would help! It won’t take long, I promise. Five minutes? Please?” 

Taehyung’s looking at you with those big puppy eyes of his, pleading. You waver. You’re torn between being steadfast and avoiding a situation you’ve literally had nightmares about (Taehyung had offered to massage you, and you’d said yes, but then you’d fallen over as you were walking to him and suddenly a lasagne had appeared in your hands and you’d spilled it all down your shirt and he’d pointed and laughed and laughed and you’d felt so embarrassed that you’d woken up, cheeks burning), but then he pouts and you give in like the spineless and lovesick fool that you are.

“Five minutes,” you say, and Taehyung nods emphatically, looking pleased.

(You have the backbone of a chocolate éclair.)

You send quiet thanks to whatever God is listening when he doesn’t ask you to take your top off and doesn’t break out a bottle of scented oil. Instead he just asks for you to straddle a chair, clutching a plushie against your chest to cushion where it leans against the backrest, and tells you to get comfy.

“Just relax,” he says, as you desperately try to remember how your body works and coax it to relax like Taehyung wants you to. You fail miserably. You feel like a ball of rubber bands, each muscle a layer of tighter and tighter elastic that’s circled around you. “Lean forwards a little?”

At least Taehyung can’t see your face from this angle. You have no idea what sort of expression is twisting your features; consternation and horrified anticipation, probably. You're basically throttling your plushie, taking out your tension and frustration on the poor thing, Rilakkuma's placid face morphing into a twisted expression of sympathy under your grasping fingers.

“Perfect,” Taehyung says. The sound of praise in his deep voice has your insides turning into overheated syrup, hot and thick, dripping down and pooling between your legs. You hate yourself. Getting turned on by the most innocuous words from your best friend, really? Get it together.

The second you feel Taehyung's warm hands touch the back of your neck, your shoulders hunch up faster than a whiplash, a turtle sucking its head into its shell. Your friend laughs.

“This is the opposite of relaxing,” he says, voice warm with amusement. 

“You surprised me.” You dig your nails into Rilakkuma's soft brown fur. Taehyung just thinks you're not used to being massaged, not that you're being weird because it's him that's touching you. Because he touches you a lot. He’s just never done it like this. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” he replies, unruffled and oblivious. “Let me try again?”

You bite your lip, desperately trying to quell the mix of arousal and tension that’s churning in your stomach, begging your muscles to unwind. You’ve kept your crush a secret from him for this long, you can keep that energy up. (You have to keep that energy up.) “Um. Okay.”

You’re still tense when Taehyung puts his hands on you again. The touch is warm through your clothes, firm but careful, digging into the sharp line of tension laid across your shoulders; despite the way your heart is threatening to launch itself out of your chest, you start to loosen up, because holy shit that feels nice, actually.

You melt against Rilakkuma and smother the bear's face in your chest. “Your teacher wasn’t kidding when they said that you’re good with your hands,” you mumble. 

You’ve never gotten a proper massage before but it feels so damn good that you can’t help but unwind, turning to jelly at the confident presses of Taehyung’s fingers and palms into the soft skin between your neck and shoulder. A little sigh spills past your lips when Taehyung starts to work at the part that’s been twinging after you lay crookedly on it, limbs akimbo in your sleep after a long night at work. “Oh, right there, Tae.”

Taehyung goes still for just a second before continuing, trailing his fingers over your shirt. “Here?”

Your eyes have drifted shut so you can focus on the sensation of that tension being pulled out of your body. “Yeah, right there,” you repeat, massaged into a state of lazy euphoria. The breath you let out is long and deep, catching in the back of your throat at a particularly firm rub of Taehyung’s hands; if you weren’t so blissed out you might be embarrassed at how much the noise you make is like a moan, but as it is, you don’t even notice. You just let out a little sound of discontent when Taehyung’s fingers stutter in their motions, displeased that he’s stopped even for a second.

By the time the massage is over, you’re so relaxed that you feel like you could melt into the floor, a wobbly puddle of unwound muscles and loose limbs. It’s official. You’re a massage convert.

“Holy shit.” Your eyes flutter open as you lean away from Rilakkuma so you can turn around. They’re the first coherent words you’ve spoken for a while; small sighs and sounds have been dripping from your lips and it’s only now that you’re able to regain your breath. “Tae, that was amazin—”

You’re met with the sight of Taehyung’s back as he power walks away, steps rapid, a little shaky, awkward. Before you can ask what’s wrong, he’s stepping into the bathroom. 

“I need to wash my hands,” he says without looking at you, before the door slams shut.

You don’t remember Tae telling you about how quickly you have to wash your hands after finishing a massage. But, thinking about it, you suppose it makes sense—you know, with massaging multiple clients or whatever—even if it’s surprising exactly how fast he’d hoofed it away from you. It sounds like he’s switched both taps on full blast as well, noisy even through the wooden door, and judging from how long he’s in there, he’s being very thorough. Hand washing must be a lot more important than you’d realised. 

Once Taehyung emerges, his face is a little flushed, cheeks a soft red. You wonder if the hot water tap is playing up again and filling your dinky bathroom with hot steam, and make a mental note to look into it. You smile at Taehyung from your perch on the sofa, Rilakkuma plopped on your lap, smile spread across your features; one that Taehyung returns, as pink-faced as he is.

“How’s your shoulder feeling?”

“So much better, honestly,” you admit. It’s incredible. He hasn’t even finished the course yet and he's already this good. He really does have magic hands.

“I’ll have to give you massages more often,” Taehyung says, though the end of the sentence trembles a little. He must be light-headed after all the steam in the bathroom.

The thought of more massages doesn’t fill you with as much mind-numbing trepidation as it might have earlier, utterly languid as you flop across the sofa, muscles uncoiled after the lovely touch of Taehyung’s even lovelier hands. No wonder people rave about spa days if they leave you feeling like this. Maybe if you’d been staring at Taehyung in the eye when he’d been touching you, then you’d feel a lot more awkward—as it is, it’s no worse than usual. Your crush is still all-encompassing but you also got a massage out of it, so.

“Sounds great.” This time you don’t even have to fake your excitement. “Now come sit your butt down so we can order some takeout and decide what to watch.”

When you bend down to speak to Pickles later, the bearded dragon is lolling on his favourite branch. “There’s still a high chance that I’m going to die,” you say in a low voice, before you flick the lights off so the lizard can sleep. “But he hasn’t broken out the oils yet, so I think I’ll be okay for now.”

--

Your luck doesn’t last.

“Strawberry and champagne, lychee martini, mint mojito, white chocolate, or tropical coconut?”

You look up from where you’re painting your toenails. “Huh?”

Taehyung bundles into the room and throws himself onto your bed, flopping on his belly and ignoring the way the mattress is jostled. You, of course, are used to his antics, which is why you’d swept your open bottle of nail polish up before he could spill it everywhere.

“What do you think sounds best?”

“Well, that depends,” you say, squinting at your toes and carefully sweeping the polish over the freshly buffed nails. “For candles, I think they sound pretty nice. For sauces to pour over a steak, I’d say I’d give them all a hard pass. What’s it for?”

“Massage oils,” Taehyung says blithely, too busy staring at his phone to see you muffle a curse when your hand slips and you paint your entire little toe blue. “I was wondering which you think sounds best.”

“Oh. Uh.” You fumble to clean your toe and salvage the now-terrible pedicure you’re trying to give yourself. It was only a matter of time before massage oils were going to become part of your life. Taehyung never goes into things half-hearted, so of course he’s going to invest in oils, too. God’s sake. You can never catch a break, can you? “Why these ones in particular?”

Taehyung pauses for a suspiciously long time, but it gives you the chance to furiously rub at your toe while he’s distracted. “We get a free bottle from the course,” he says eventually.

Huh. Okay. “That’s pretty neat. What was the last one? Coconut? Stick with the basics, can’t go wrong with that, right?”

“Coconut is always tasty,” Taehyung comments absently, and you glance up from your Smurf toe.

“Agreed, but it’s not like you’re about to eat massage oil, are you?”

Taehyung pauses, and then buries his face into his phone screen—suddenly very intent on rereading the list of ingredients in each bottle, it seems. “No, of course not, you’re right,” he mumbles.

He’s almost finished the course. He’s not going to be an accredited masseuse or anything, but you definitely think he could be, if he wanted to—you’ve never had less tension in your shoulders and neck in your life. Taehyung always eases his way into your personal space anyway, casual and effortless after years of friendship, but now you’re used to his fingers sliding over the back of your neck, a gliding touch, sending tense little goosebumps over your skin while simultaneously making you melt. 

“It’s pretty cool that you get free stuff, though.” Your toe is clean, thankfully, no longer blue. “And not just, like, a generic bottle of oil or something. They all sound really fancy. I didn’t realise that you could get massage oils that were scented like that?”

Taehyung makes a non-committal noise, which is uncharacteristic of him, but you’re too focused on repainting your final nail to pay it too much mind, letting out a loud huff of triumph when you’re done.

“Get me a bag of shrimp crackers, please?” You have a sudden craving but you don’t want to penguin waddle to the kitchen and risk getting anything on your wet nails. “Ya girl is hungry.”

“Got it.” Taehyung rolls off the bed without protest. You’re used to his antics, and he’s used to yours, indulging you whenever you feel lazy or want him to do something for you. “You need me to feed you?”

“I wasn’t going to use my toes to feed myself,” you laugh, but Taehyung ends up feeding them to you anyway.

When you recount the list to Seokjin later, his face crumples in a way that’s equal parts offended and disgusted. “They all sound terrible,” he says. “White chocolate should stay in chocolate form and not be turned into an oil. Why does massage oil even have to smell like anything?”

You’re both holed up in the tiny smoking nook behind Olive Chicken; neither of you smoke, but it’s a good excuse to go outside and get fresh air during longer shifts. 

“Hey, don’t ask me, I’m not the one who’s taking the course. I think lychee martini sounds interesting, though.”

“Agree to disagree.” Seokjin unwraps one of the complimentary chocolates the restaurant gives to diners with their bill, swallowing it whole. “Besides, we all know Taehyung could approach you with dirty, used fryer oil and you’d let him dip you in it.”

You slap the next chocolate out of his hand before it reaches his mouth. He’s unmoved and simply plucks another from his pocket, which is apparently bulging with them.

“Yoongichi,” Jin says, calling to the delivery boy, who’s just appeared from the dark like some tired-eyed spectre of fried chicken. “Tell me this. If I were to ask you what smell of massage oil you’d prefer, what—”

“I would say that I really could not care less.” Yoongi flops down on one of the rickety fold-out chairs before silently accepting a chocolate from Seokjin’s stash. “And then I’d ask why you’re asking me in the first place, seeing as you’re the one using it, not me. If Taehyung’s asking what massage oil you’d prefer, Y/n, it’s because he wants to rub it all over you specifically.” Yoongi munches on the chocolate, already filling in the blanks without needing to be told the context. You really are that transparent, huh. “Please, we’ve been over this.”

Jin pouts. “You ruined my set up. I had a whole speech prepared.”

“Oh no.” Yoongi remains blank-faced. “How terrible.”

“I hate both of you,” you say. “I’m going to tell Pickles how mean you are.”

“I bet if that lizard could talk, he’d tell you how tired he was of you two dancing around each other, just like the rest of us,” Yoongi says.

There’s no dancing around, though, no matter what your friends say. Well. Not on Taehyung’s end anyway. You’re out here doing the fandango, castanets and all, while Taehyung just stands stock still, oblivious.

You let out an incredibly long sigh. Seokjin hands you a sympathetic chocolate.

The massage oil doesn’t make an appearance in your life for a little while, though. The end of the course comes and goes, Taehyung proudly flapping the laminated certificate at you, wobble-wobble-wobble, filling the apartment with the sound of rippling plastic. But no coconut oil.

The scent of ‘tropical coconut’ has started to haunt your dreams, in a way that’s both good and bad; when you wake up in a sweat, heart pounding, it’s not because you’re having nightmares, let’s just put it like that. It’s like there’s an invisible countdown that you can’t trace and it’s only a matter of time before it ticks over and the shoulder massages (that you’ve gotten very comfortable with) edge into something different. Taehyung’s going to innocently offer to give you a backrub and uncap that bottle of scented oil and you’re going to explode into a mess of putty under his hands.

Well… then again… you had been worried about that with all the shoulder rubs. Now look at you. You weather those like a champ. Sure, your skin tingles and you run hot and you think about the sensation of Taehyung’s hands gliding over you whenever you’re alone, but you’re basically fine. Your friend who just so happens to also be the great love of your life remains none the wiser.

You bet a full back rub would feel great after a long week.

Which is why when Taehyung steps into the apartment with a look on his face that you immediately recognise as tiredness, you sort of wish you knew how to massage people, too.

He falls into your arms with little fanfare. It’s been one of those days, one of those ones that everyone gets, even Taehyung—he’s usually so Switched On and Exuberant and Alive, and people don’t seem to realise that even he feels exhausted, sometimes.

“You alright, bubs?” You can’t massage him but you can rub his back soothingly, let him snuffle against your neck. Sometimes you think about that little space between your chin and collarbones as Taehyung’s, a hollow that’s perfect for him to press his face into, hair tickling your chin as he curls up into you. His and his alone. “Did something happen?”

He just shakes his head.

“Okay,” you say.

(Close proximity and skin on skin with Taehyung doesn’t always have your pulse rising and your heart racing. Sometimes it’s just this: quiet and soft, your heart bright with fierce affection for this boy, the only thought in your mind that you want him to be happy, forever.)

The long silence is broken by the sound of Taehyung heaving in a breath before letting out a long, exhausted sigh. 

“Thank you.” His voice is quiet and low, far less energetic than his usual self.

“Nothing to thank me for, Tae,” you reply. “Always here for you. You know that, right?”

He doesn’t respond straight away. He just burrows closer, draped over you, until he murmurs, barely audible. “Why?”

Your face twists. “Why, what? Why am I always here for you?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung squeezes himself impossibly closer, skin warm against yours, forehead pressed to the skin of your neck. You can’t see his expression from this angle.

“Because you’re one of my best friends and I love you,” you answer, immediately. You don’t even have to think about it. “Because you’re important to me and if there’s anything I can do for you, I will. I’ll celebrate the good things in your life with you, and I’ll be at your side during the bad times, just like you are with me. Please don’t ever forget how much I love you, okay?”

There’s a pause, and then it feels like all the tension leaves Taehyung’s body, slumping his whole body weight against you. “Okay,” he murmurs. “I love you too. Thank you,” he says again. You just reply by squeezing his shoulders.

He’s a little quieter for a few days after that. You’re not sure why, because he’d perked up after a lazy evening of lying around and eating too many snacks, flopped against you like an oversized, clinging starfish—but you’re gentle with him nonetheless. 

(Well. You’re always gentle with him. It just takes you half a second to fold in the face of his whims, rather than a whole, full second.)

So when the dreaded bottle of oil finally appears, you’re far less ready to fight off Taehyung’s insistence on a full body massage, caught off guard after days of indulging him. Fuck. 

“You’ve had a long week!” Taehyung insists as you scrabble your way over the sofa’s backrest so you can hide behind it, clutching a cushion to your chest. “You need to relax!”

Without looking you fling the cushion over the sofa. Judging from the fact that Taehyung doesn’t make a sound, you’ve missed. “I was feeling perfectly relaxed until you started yelling at me about it! Why are you so obsessed with the idea of me being relaxed?”

Taehyung doesn’t respond. Oh, crap. Maybe you did hit him with the cushion?

You pop up from behind the sofa. Nope. It's an embarrassing distance away from Taehyung, who’s got that surprisingly large bottle of oil held loosely in his hands. There’s an expression on his face that you can’t decipher; a little crestfallen, a little unsure, but there’s something else there, too, something you can’t put a name to.

“Taehyung?”

“I just… wanted to help,” he says. “You’re always there for me when I’m not feeling great, and you calm me down, and I wanted to do the same for you.”

You immediately feel like the worst human being alive. Take the feeling you get whenever you accidentally step on an animal’s tail, multiply it by infinity, and that’s only just a drop in the ocean of awful, awful guilt that you’re drowning in. 

“Oh, Tae,” you say. Your voice comes out so much softer and sweeter than you mean it to, but you can't help it. “I’m sorry. I was just joking. It’s really nice of you to be so concerned. You just surprised me. You do help me relax and your massages are great.” (You tell him that often enough that he should know it, but it never hurts to repeat a compliment.)

His face lifts. It’s like the sun bursting forth from the clouds after heavy rain, and you have to resist the urge to shield your eyes, blinded by the brightness and beauty. Kim Taehyung is so unfairly gorgeous (but what else is new?). “So I can give you a massage?”

Despite the fact the prospect makes you want to fling yourself into space, when you’re faced with Taehyung’s dark eyes and wide smile and large, warm hands, you cave, because of course you do. If, way back when you’d first been frying up that kimchi rice and letting Taehyung thrust his phone into your face, you’d been told you’d end up in this position, you would have laughed outright. Haha, yeah, sure, like you’d be stupid enough to let yourself be wrangled into such a vulnerable state in front of Taehyung, nowhere to run, helpless under his fingers. Not.

But here you are. Whipped for Kim Taehyung, forever and always.

The pastel blue towels under your stomach and chest are soft as they shield you from the cold, hard floor. You’re incredibly aware of how chilly the apartment feels, air prickling against your bare skin; you shift to try and get comfortable, glancing over your shoulder to fiddle with the towel that’s draped over your hips and ass, making sure it’s covering everything. Taehyung insists on authenticity (as if you’re not lying on the floor of your apartment rather than on a massage table) and he says that it’s normal to be completely naked for a full-body massage, even underneath any towels that are covering you up.

Authenticity is also why he’s in the other room, warming up the massage oil, because that’s apparently a thing?

(You’re going to die.)

It doesn’t matter that Taehyung will only be able to see the back of your head, your shoulder blades, the small of your back, a slip of your thighs, your calves. None of these things are especially scandalous; all the parts of your body that someone might find more interesting are out of sight, pressed against the floor or hidden under a layer of Egyptian cotton microfibres. 

And yet you can’t help but be hyperaware of how you’re entirely unclothed. Even if it doesn’t bother Taehyung—what with, you know, the fact he’s not interested in you like that and doesn’t find you attractive at all (sigh)—embarrassment creeps hot and uncomfortable under your skin.

It just feels so crazy intimate to be laid out like this, even if people do this all the time, happily strip down to let professionals rub the tension out of their body. 

(Then again, most people aren’t best friends with their masseuses and haven’t harboured long, one-sided crushes on them, either.)

Just breathe. You can do this. You love the shoulder massages that Taehyung’s been giving you; just think of this as a shoulder massage. 

… A shoulder massage that involves warm oil, near-nakedness, and Taehyung’s hands sliding all over you.

… You are going to have a very long venting session with Pickles after all this.

You’re so distracted by your own self pity and distress that you don’t register the sound of Taehyung entering the room; the little pause when he steps over the threshold, feet stuttering, just for a moment. It’s only when he’s kneeling down that you notice his presence, body jolting from surprise before you let out a slip of high laughter.

“Jesus, Tae,” you say. In any other circumstance, you’d be clutching your chest. “You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He sounds genuinely apologetic.

Your cheek is pillowed on your arms. When you turn to look at your best friend you immediately regret it; he’s settled back on his ankles, knees spread wide, and you come eye-to-eye with his crotch.

In an effort to look away from his clothed dick, your gaze flies up to his face, which might be even worse. He has this intense look in his eyes, and wow, alright, you’ve never been able to see Taehyung’s face as he’s been massaging you, but you never realised exactly how seriously he seems to take it, judging from his expression.

(Do all massage therapists look like that when they work?)

“That’s alright.” You’re a little breathless, but you’re going to blame that on how your boobs are smooshed into the floor, and not on anything else, nuh uh. Shoulder massage. It’s a shoulder massage. It’s just like a full bodied shoulder massage. (Maybe if you repeat it to yourself often enough then you’ll actually start to believe it.) “Uh. Do you need me to… do anything? Or do I just lie here?”

Taehyung’s expression lightens a little at the uncertainty in your tone, smile curling up the corners of his mouth. “You’re perfect right where you are,” he says, and then he reaches for the bottle of oil.

You turn your head away again, cheeks burning. There’s no way you’ll be able to handle the visual of him slicking his fingers and palms up. “Cool,” you say, voice only a little strained. “Coolcoolcoolcool.”

(It’s not cool.)

You don’t have a visual, but you do get the auditory experience thanks to the relative silence in the apartment. Goosebumps ripple down the back of your neck and trail down your spine at the sound of Tae’s hands sliding against each other, thoroughly coated in the warmed oil, and you’re so glad that you can blame it on the chill in the air.

At first, it’s okay. Taehyung starts at the parts of your body that are used to receiving his attention, though it’s different without the barrier of clothing in the way, not to mention how easily his palms glide over you, the air full of the light scent of coconut. It’s different, but manageable, and you think you just might be okay; as always, his touches are firm but careful, and your body is used to this by now, relaxing.

But. The second you feel Taehyung’s touch between your shoulder blades, you stiffen with a shiver. The oil is the perfect temperature against your skin, but you’ve always had a sensitive back; you can’t help but clench your fists, digging your fingers into your palms. Relax. Just breathe. 

“You’ve got a lot of tension here.” Taehyung’s voice is low as he digs the heel of his palm into the dip of your spine.

It’s because you’re touching me there, you think to yourself, but just let out a non-committal hum of agreement instead. 

You feel Taehyung's hands, a repeated sliding motion between your shoulder blades; the tension starts to leak out of you again, but your breath hitches in your throat at how you're pressed downwards and into the cotton towels beneath you, nipples hardening against them.

Thank God you're on your front so Tae can't see what effect he's having on you.

“Better?”

Taehyung's voice is always deep, but you'd swear it was even deeper in this moment, pitched low. Maybe that’s because the sound of blood pumping is filling your ears so it’s hard to discern. At this point, who even knows? Not you, that’s for sure.

“Yep.” Why are you so breathless? You haven’t moved at all, but you sound like you’ve just run the 100m sprint, winded and weak. “So much better.”

You regret agreeing to this. You are so out of your depth and there’s no way you’re going to be able to hide exactly how much this is affecting you and you want to collapse in on yourself and shrivel up like a sundried tomato, tiny and wrinkly and underwhelming. 

Taehyung shifts to reach more of you and you squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t come face first with his crotch again, shielding yourself from the view of his loose linen trousers stretched almost taut with how wide his knees are. It’s both a blessing and a curse—a blessing because you’re saved from aforementioned view, but a curse because your sensation of touch is heightened, and all you’re aware of is his hands sliding down your sides. You’d swear those fingers were so long he could circle your waist with ease.

(Massages are meant to relax you and yet you’ve never felt so tense in your life.)

Taehyung clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I can’t get a good angle like this,” he mutters.

Before you can think anything or say anything, you become aware of the sound of moving and shifting and—

Your eyes fly open. Taehyung’s straddling your thighs, heavy and warm, and you suck in a breath so sharp and fast you can feel your chest expand, brain full of the screaming clang of warning bells. There’s no way this is a normal masseuse thing. There’s no way. It’s intimate and entirely too physical and there’s absolutely no way that this is something Taehyung learned in class. 

(What is he doing?)

But then any coherent thought in your brain slips when his hands settle on you again.

They so, so lightly brush the hem of the towel that preserves your modesty, and you can’t help the full-body shiver that wracks through you. You suck your lips into your mouth, swallowing down the noise that threatens to bubble up in your throat. There’s the sensation of fingers trailing up the line of your spine, feather light, smoothed by the slide of oil, and you feel like molten lava, burning hot and bright.

“Taehyung.” Your voice is high and faint.

His fingers splay down your ribcage and run down your sides, confident and smooth, warm with that coconut-scented oil, and you’re dying, you’re living; you want to disappear, you never want this to end. 

“Taehyung,” you repeat. Your voice shakes.

He hums, low and indulgent. “Yes?”

“M-my thighs,” you stammer, unable to articulate yourself. Why are you on my thighs, oh God, you’re so warm and heavy on top of me, oh God oh God oh God.

Taehyung completely misunderstands you. “Oh? Of course.” He sounds nonchalant. “I’ll massage those next.”

You can feel the drag of his linen trousers against your skin as he moves down to rest on your calves, and hear the bottle open as Taehyung drizzles more oil over his hands, far more than he could possibly need. His palms feel so broad and warm against the smoothness of your thighs, touches firm and confident as he digs his fingers into the muscle, and, oh, fuck, this is, this is too much—

Your legs jump when Taehyung hitches the towel up, just a little, baring more of your body.

“Fuck.” You can't keep quiet any longer. “Tae, I’m fine, I’m feeling way less tense now.”

He’s still, for a moment, before his hands slide up the back of your thighs. “Are you sure? You want me to stop?”

It’s only then that you realise how deeply Taehyung is breathing, fast and low, voice rough and gravelled. His fingers rest in wait, warm and slick with oil; you’re so close to losing any modicum of modesty, only one motion away from that towel being rucked high enough that there’s nothing protecting you from Taehyung’s touch and eyes.

“I haven’t finished yet, though,” he continues, digging his thumbs into your skin as he pulls his hands down your thighs, mindlessly following the motions he’s been taught. “There’s still more to go.”

You could twist around to look at him but you’re almost afraid to look at his face, afraid of what you’d find there. He sounds as affected as you are, but there’s absolutely no way. There’s no way.

“You don’t need to do the whole massage if I’m feeling relaxed, right?” 

(Because you’re feeling so relaxed right now, of course, and not like you’re about to go supernova and burst into heat and light. Absolutely.)

(But.)

(But. Taehyung’s hands settle at the back of your knees, swiping the sensitive skin with his thumbs. You can’t see his face, but you can feel something in that touch, something more than skin deep, like it’s sinking into you, through skin and muscle and bone, in in in, settling inside you, a flicker of—of—)

“Want to do this perfectly for you,” he murmurs. You clench your hands at the husky note in his voice, nails digging so hard into your palms it hurts. “You deserve the best. I want you to feel good.”

He must be able to see your back rise and fall as you breathe in sharply.

“Taehyung.” Almost pleading. 

“Yes, love?”

You suck in another sharp breath. The pet name sounds so soft and sweet in his mouth, somehow, even with the heated edge to his voice. One that’s definitely there. You’re not imagining it. 

(You’re not.)

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” he continues.

Before you can think, you nod.

“Yes,” you whisper. “Please.”

You’re trembling. Taehyung’s still heavy and warm across the back of your calves, sliding one hand to the inside of a knee and up the soft skin of your inner thighs. You instinctively shift them apart, as far as you can with Taehyung trapping your legs, and, oh, his hand is going higher, oh—

His hand is so big, cupping your overheated sex. It’s hard to tell where the oil ends and your own arousal begins, flushed wet and hot; when he dips his middle finger between your lower lips, long and gentle and firm, you let out a noise you didn’t realise you were capable of. The angle is off, a little awkward, the motions of Taehyung’s fingers stifled by how you’re lying flush to the ground, but God, you’re so turned on it barely matters.

You’re hyperaware of everything. The soft touch of air on the cooling oil across your skin. The fall of the towel, bunched around your waist, slowly slipping to one side. Taehyung’s hand, his fingertips easing through the heat of you, sliding over your clit, over your entrance, slow and soft and amazing. 

“Again,” you plead. “Again, Tae, please.”

“Feels good?” He asks, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you nod, cheek still pillowed against your arm.

“So good,” you say. “But I want more, please, Tae.”

“Anything you want,” he murmurs.

Taehyung’s hand shifts between your legs again, so hot, so big, so reverent. The slide is smooth as his fingers press into your folds, practically gliding. You twist beneath him, letting out a noise of displeasure when he draws his hand away, but then he lifts off your calves. You let him thrust your legs apart before he resettles between them.

Just as you’re distracted with the towel being tugged away from your hips, baring you entirely, Taehyung slides a finger into your weeping cunt.

You whine. It's so long. Now that your calves aren’t trapped, there’s nothing to stop you from rutting back against his fingers. He splays his other hand over the soft flesh of your ass, encouraging the rolling motion of your hips, and you’re gasping, wanton in your noises of desire and pleasure. One finger becomes two, and then three, Taehyung’s voice a low undercurrent to your stuttered moans as he presses them as deep as he can.

“Just like that, angel,” he breathes. “Want you to feel good, keep making those pretty noises, let me know how good it is—”

“Taehyung,” you whine, dragging the syllables of his name out when he curls his fingers inside you, so amazing, hitting you in all the right places.

“Baby.” He sounds wrecked, words sliding together, and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You’re so hot n’ wet, fuck. So perfect. Just like that, keep moving like that.”

You can hear the slick sounds of his thrusts into you. He’s already learned what you like, twisting his fingers in a way that leaves you breathless; they’re so fucking long, sliding into your greedy cunt with ease, reaching so much deeper than your own can. His pretty lovely hands are on you, inside you, and you’re heady at the thought.

“There, Tae, don’t stop, please, p-please.” The coil twists tighter in between your legs, a taut thread that’s ready to snap. He listens, repeating the motion that’s pulling you closer to the edge, eyes wide, staring at the way you’re writhing underneath him; the way the oil on your back and legs shimmers in the light, the evidence of his touch all over you, shining. “Tae, oh, God, right there, yes, yes, yes—”

Your entire body goes tense and then you’re cumming around Taehyung’s fingers, clenching your thighs together, trapping him inside as you buck your hips. You grind back against his hand, a loud moan falling from your lips, drowning out the noise of awe that Taehyung makes when he feels your walls pulsate around him. You're warm and tight and wet, arousal flooding thick against his skin, and he lets out a stuttered groan, fingers buried knuckle deep inside you, feeling every wave of pleasure that rocks through your core.

You’re panting by the time you settle back down and barely make a sound when Taehyung drags his fingers out of you. When he leans down the oil on your skin feels tacky against his clothes, material sticking to you, chest to back, hips to ass. You can feel the hot curve of him through his trousers, his cock heavy, getting harder—and it feels sososo good.

Taehyung’s face is so close, now, chin hooked over your shoulder. Even though you can feel the hardness of his cock pressed against you, the smile on his face is so gentle. Your heart thrums in your chest.

“So cute n' pretty,” he says, and presses his nose to the soft curve of your cheek. Rather than coconut, all you can smell is his shampoo, familiar and homely and heady. “All over. God, I can’t believe you’d let me touch you like this. I’m so lucky. Was that good, baby?”

“Yes,” you say, and then, because you’re still floating in a light haze of disbelief: “I’m the lucky one.” 

Taehyung laughs, low and quiet. It’s a honeyed moment, dripping slow and sweet, even sweeter when he tilts his head forward. His lips are soft against your cheekbone, your jaw, and when you turn towards him, they’re even softer against your mouth. You can feel the shape of his smile, and it tastes so bright, small kisses that turn open mouthed, so perfect. Because you’re kissing Kim Taehyung, your Taehyung, something you’ve been dreaming about for so long, now—even if this entire situation is pretty unbelievable, honestly.

When you pull back, his eyes spark with unadulterated joy. He’s warm and heavy, pinning you down against the towels that are soft against your front; arching your spine, you lean back against the weight of Taehyung’s body, his cock fattening up through the layers of clothes that separate you. He lets out a breath of surprise before he grinds down, pressing that hard heat against you, and your cunt clenches.

“Can I finish the massage?” He asks, sounding almost eager, even with the rasp of lust in his voice. You can’t help but laugh, an affectionate giggle that has you knocking your foreheads together.

“Of course,” you say, and he catches your lips again, swallowing the last of your laughter, sweeping his tongue over your lips, inside your mouth, wet and hot and a little messy, but good. 

“You need to be on your back,” Taehyung continues, slow after the kiss is broken, and, oh, okay, that has you shivering. “If you want to?”

Of course you want to.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let me move.”

He shifts to give you room, but not before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, the bump of the top of your spine, lips sliding against the oil that he’d rubbed there earlier, goosebumps erupting over your skin.

“So good to me,” he whispers. You don’t think he even means for you to hear it. 

(It’s said without thought; not thoughtless, no, but a soft little thing that says so much. A thought that’s slipped across his mind and fallen from his lips, warm and tender. Like you’re always good to him, and he sees it, he knows it, he feels it, he thinks it, and he’s almost in disbelief about it, because you’re so good to him.)

You feel warm and languid after cumming, loose-limbed as you flop onto your back. There’s no going back now. There’s no going back from this moment, naked and vulnerable under Taehyung, nothing hidden away any more—the soft fall of your breasts, your stomach, the lines of your hips, your fingers tightening in the towels spread beneath you as Taehyung’s eyes drink you in, wide and overawed at the sight of your flushed cunt, ripe and slick and ready for him.

(There's no more hiding how much you want Taehyung to have you, body and heart alike.)

You can see the shape of your body silhouetted on his clothes, where the oil has seeped into the material from how close he’d been pressed against you. You can see just how affected he is, cock straining against the loose linen of his white trousers, and you bite your lip to try and stifle the sound you make.

“Look at you,” Taehyung breathes, kneeling between your legs. “You’re so perfect.”

Your cheeks burn. “Taehyung, please,” you say, embarrassed. You really aren’t, especially in comparison to model-gorgeous Kim Taehyung, eyes dark and full of heated lust, hair falling in his eyes, effortlessly beautiful, always.

“You are,” he insists. “You have no idea how perfect you are.”

Before he reaches for the massage oil, he sucks the taste of you off his fingers, sloppy and messy. Your pussy throbs at the sight. And—you were also right about the visual being too much to handle, breath catching in your throat as you watch it drip into his broad hands. His palms shine as he rubs them together, interlacing his fingers, so graceful in their motions. You’re so wet from your orgasm, only getting wetter as you stare back at Taehyung, whose gaze has been heavy on you the whole time.

He starts at your collarbones. It’s even slower than before, and you ease underneath him, revelling in the softness of his touch. He sweeps his hands over your shoulders, down your arms, circling his long fingers around your wrists before lifting one of your hands. Your eyelashes flutter as he presses a kiss to your palm, a motion so full of adoration and tenderness it steals your breath away, and you squirm, shy.

“Tae,” you whine. “You can’t just do that.”

Of course he doubles down, lifting your other hand and repeating the motion, letting his lips linger between your head line and your heart line. “I can,” he says, words warm in your cupped palm. 

“I hope you didn’t do this in class.” Your voice is too weak for it to come out as the joke you mean it to be. 

Taehyung just shakes his head, mouth brushing over the tips of your fingers. “Only for you,” he says. “Did the whole class for you. I wanted—wanted an excuse to touch you more,” he admits, and your heart feels like it’s going to launch itself out of your throat.

“Then touch me,” you say, trying to sound confident even if your cheeks burn.

And he does. He lets your hands drop, gliding his touch back up your arms, down your body, over your legs; he massages your thighs and calves, digs his thumbs into the arches of your feet, circling his fingers around your ankles, shackles you don’t want to escape from. You feel so relaxed and lax, somehow, even if every touch has you biting your lip, anticipation roiling  in your stomach for what’s to come, Taehyung laying your legs down softly before he shifts back up, hands held out towards you—

—then he cups your breasts in his big, big hands and your back arches, fingers sliding over your nipples, glistening with coconut oil, circling them with the pads of his thumbs. You let out an embarrassing whine.

“Oh, Tae,” you beg. “More, please.”

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

You smile at another soft, unexpected pet name, flustered, but then your eyes slide shut when Taehyung bends down to kiss your neck as he continues to run his hands over the swell of your breasts. He trails his lips over your oiled skin, shifts down, drawing a line from your neck to the valley of your chest, the hard line at the center of your ribcage.

“Tae,” you murmur, and then, feeling bold under the heat of Taehyung’s dark eyes— “Baby.”

He hums before laying another sloppy kiss against your sensitive skin. You can feel the curve of his smile in the kiss. “Yes, love?”

“Is it really okay for you to… you know… get that oil in your mouth? I don’t want you to get sick,” you say, concerned, even through the haze of your arousal. His lips shine with it, at how he’s been trailing his mouth over all the parts of your body that he’s touched.

There’s a short beat, and then Taehyung buries his head against your neck—in that little hollow that’s his, in a motion he’s done dozens of times. Except this time you’re naked and he still has fingers splayed across the soft skin of your chest, nipples dragging underneath his palms.

“You’re always so considerate.” His words are muffled against your skin. “It’s fine. It’s edible.”

“You got edible massage oil from your course?”

Taehyung hesitates. “No,” he admits. “I bought it. It’s edible and, uh. Safe for intimate use.”

You’re silent, just for a moment, and then you can’t help it. You start to laugh. 

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, body shaking with amusement. “Did you buy edible massage oil that you can also use as lube?”

Taehyung pulls his face away from your neck and glances up. You’re giggling at him, and he feels so full of love and affection; he can’t help but join in, both laughing at him, loud and carefree.

“It’s why I asked which one you liked,” he confesses, once he can catch his breath.

“I can’t believe you lied to me,” you say, but you don’t mind, really, and he knows it. You lift a hand to push hair out of his face, running your fingers down his scalp. He leans into your touch with a smile, bright and lovely, before he abruptly shifts one of his hands down so he can lick a hot, wet stripe across the skin of your breast.

That stops your laughter pretty fast, surprised hiccup shifting into a broken moan when he engulfs your nipple in the heat of his mouth. “O-oh,” you gasp. “Oh, Taehyung—”

“Been thinking about this for so long.” Taehyung’s eyes are lidded and dark as he leans back, watching the way you react to his touch, arching up towards him. “Wanted to touch you like this so much.”

“Wanted it too,” you breathe. “Wanted—oh, God, Tae, fuck—”

It’s overwhelming. Not just the way Taehyung is flicking his tongue over each of your nipples, pressing his lips against your skin, no—but the idea that he’s been hoping for this, too. Each wet motion of his tongue over your pebbled skin drags pulls out of you; Taehyung’s cock twitches at a loud keen that’s drawn from your lips, a wet patch of precum seeping through his boxers and trousers, darkening the fabric, even though you haven’t touched him yet.

When you reach out to grasp him through his clothes, his hips jolt forward and he bites off a surprised gasp, cutting through the sound with his teeth. He feels long and heavy as you stroke him, thumbing over the wet patch at his tip, hot, even through all those layers between your skin and his.

“I want to feel you, Tae,” you say, staring at him. “Inside me. Please.”

His breath hitches when you tighten your fingers around his shaft and drag your hand upwards, slow and intent. 

“The oil isn’t condom friendly,” he admits, abashed. 

“Then you can cum in my mouth,” you reply. No hesitation.

Taehyung’s eyes are so wide, but then he smiles, eyes squeezing into crescents, mouth turning up into that lovely, broad grin of his. He looks so sweet and sincere, and you feel like you could explode, stuffed overfull with love for him.

“You really are perfect,” he says.

“Only for you,” you reply, your smile just as bright.

He lays one final kiss to your chest, above your beating heart, before he starts to strip. The oil has obviously soaked through his shirt and onto his skin because it sticks when he peels it off and carelessly throws it aside. 

Just like his heart, Taehyung’s body is soft and lovely. You sit up so you can touch him properly, catching him off guard when you pull him in for a kiss—one he eagerly leans into, and without the shirt in the way you can feel the way your skin slides against his, softened with oil. 

There really is no one as beautiful as Kim Taehyung. You drag your hands over him, so warm and wonderful under your palms; his chest, his cute tummy, his waist, his hips, the soft skin above his red, neglected cock. He’s radiant in his nakedness, every easing line of his body so perfect as he kneels in front of you, the flush of his skin, the heavy weight of his arousal, head shining with precum, so wet it’s practically dripping.

You lean in to kiss his neck and nip at his Adam's apple as his hands slide over your shoulder blades and down your back, the parts that make you shudder.

“Want you, Tae.” You whisper into his mouth, a soft secret that isn’t really a secret at all, not any more. “All of you.”

“Going to give you everything you want.” The words flow out of him with ease. “Everything you want.”

His chest and stomach shine with the massage oil that’s rubbed off from your own skin. You run your hands across him, and when you finally grasp his cock without the barrier of cloth in the way, he’s almost burning under your grasp, thick, his entire body shuddering when you pump his length. So sensitive to your touch.

“I’m goin’ to make you cum again,” he promises, and you love it, the way he talks when he’s losing himself. “Bet you’ll feel so good around my cock, so perfect.”

A shiver skates through your body. Taehyung’s fingers dig into your skin when he feels you trembling under his hands, and all you can think about is how you want him in you.

“Please,” you say. “Please, wanna make you feel good too—”

“Hands and knees, angel,” he rasps, and, God, yes, those words cut straight through you, sharp and electric.

Maybe you should feel embarrassed at how quickly you obey. The towels underneath you, so carefully placed at the start, perfectly flat, become rumpled as you shift into position; you arch your back, wanting to look as good as possible, and glance over your shoulder to see if it works.

Judging from the look on Taehyung’s face, it does. He looks like he’s never seen anything more awe-inspiring, eyes wide and mouth a little slack, dumbstruck. But then his jaw snaps shut and he splays his hands over the soft skin of your hips, your waist, your ass, shuffling closer to you; you feel the curve of his cock slide against your skin and you bite back a noise of need.

“Fuck, so beautiful.” He ruts forward, and you can feel the wetness of his precum slicking against you, a beaded line drawn across the sheen of massage oil. “My beautiful, perfect girl.”

“Tae,” you plead, already overwhelmed with need, heart squeezing at his words.

“Just one more thing, angel, I promise.”

It’s a good thing that the bottle of massage oil is so big, considering how liberal Taehyung is with it. You gasp when he uses one hand to spread your ass and before you can react there’s a drizzle of oil falling onto your skin, down-down-down, over your cunt, dripping over your inner thighs; Taehyung catches the excess with his palms before he slicks himself up, spreading that sweet coconut over his throbbing cock.

(You wonder what it’ll taste like when you lick it off him.)

When you feel the blunt head of his cock nudging at your pussy, your entire body lights up in anticipation, nerve endings on fire, every inch of your body singing under Taehyung’s touch—and when he finally sinks in, it’s almost effortless. He’s thick and long but everything slides so easy; you gasp and he moans, both lost in how your body opens up for him, hot and wet. By the time he’s bottomed out you're a quivering mess, collapsed onto your elbows. You’re so full. You feel split open in all the best ways, wanting to draw him in impossibly deeper even so.

Taehyung is gripping your sides, hands unmoving even with the slick oil underneath them, fingers digging into your skin. He’s breathing so loud, and when you experimentally shift your hips, he bites back a noise that cuts through that breath.

“How’s it feel, love?” His words slur together in arousal, but the hand that strokes your back is slow, thoughtful. “Feel good?”

“Fuck me, Tae, baby, please,” you beg. It’s so, so so much, so good, amazing, hotter and bigger and harder than anything you’d let yourself imagine, your entire body taking Taehyung and holding him in, in, in. “Please, I need it, it feels good but I want more, please.”

When he pulls away it’s slow and torturous and he goes so far he almost slips out, cock nearly sliding out of your folds. You whine, a little shameless, mostly needy, but then—

The snap of his hips drives you forwards, towels shifting underneath as you scrabble for a hold on something. Each sharp motion of Taehyung’s body has you choking for air and letting out whimpers and gasps, drowned out by the slap of skin on skin; his hipbones meet the soft flesh of your ass, again and again, but all you can focus on is the thick heat of his cock inside you, in-out-in-out, the press of his balls against your clit, everything so wet and smooth and slick.

You can feel how you’re losing yourself to that heady place that’s golden bright with feeling, lust and sex, the rest of the world gone, unimportant. There’s nothing but this—Taehyung touching you, filling your body so well, so perfect, helping you chase that high that’s growing faster and faster, that precipice of pleasure that he’s going to throw you over again, intent on it.

One of his hands trails up your back, between that sensitive dip of your shoulder blades and into your hair, locks tangling with coconut oil before he urges you up. He doesn’t yank or pull but his hold is firm and you end up back on your hands, arms trembling as you try to keep your balance, back bowed, overwhelmed. 

“Baby,” he rasps. “Oh, you’re so tight n’ hot, so pretty, fuck. You feel so good, do you feel good?”

Your answer is almost a wail, so overcome with pleasure, sensation, the glide of his hands over your shining skin, the mix of oil and arousal that drips out of you, only getting wetter with each thrust of his hips into you. “So good, o-oh God, Tae, baby, fuck, oh, theretherethere—”

“Here?”

He punctuates this with a roll of his hips, using the hand still on your hip to pull you back onto his cock as he fills you up once more, throbbing heat. He bends over you, and this time, there’s nothing stopping the skin on skin contact, the slide of his chest against your back as he kisses the soft skin behind your ear, nipping at your lobe, and that’s it, you’re gone. Your eyes slide shut and your mouth falls open as another orgasm crashes through you, legs shaking as you cum around Taehyung’s cock, grinding back against him to drag out that pleasure; the only thing holding you up is the hand still in your hair, the lips trailing up the side of your bared neck, the hard cock inside you, keeping you against him, so many points of connection with Taehyung.

(His chest pressed against your back, heart beating so hard you can feel it, your own heart moving in tandem, matching him.)

He’s been whispering filth to you, heated praise and love, how good you feel, how beautiful you are, what it’s like to see you like this, touch you like this, have you like this. Lovely, pretty, perfect, gorgeous, hot n’ wet n’ tight, fuck, love, oh.

You’re still shivering, the final pulses of your orgasm curling through you with each unintentional shift of Taehyung’s hips, the drag of his length inside your inner walls. You can feel something dripping out of you; oil, cum, you don't know, but fuck, it feels so so good.

“Oh, God,” you say. Breathless. “Oh, Taehyung, oh.”

“Pretty darling,” he murmurs. He swivels his hips, grinding against you, and your entire body jolts with oversensitivity, clit swollen where his balls press against it. You tighten around him and groan at how hot and big he still feels inside, even as you still shiver from the come down of your second orgasm. “Gonna roll you over so I can see that perfect face.”

And when you’re on your back again, fucked out and mussed and wrecked, he just stares at you. You’ve watched his face for so long, seen so many expressions flit across his features, but never something like this—it’s a mix of amazement and awe and tenderness and lust and love, a lift to his brows and a spark in his eyes and a set to his lips.

And when he leans down to kiss you, that look doesn’t leave. It melts and softens around the edges as you catch each other's mouths, as you kiss and kiss, small tender things interspersed with longer, deeper touches, lips and teeth and tongue—his eyes darken and his mouth flushes darker pink, kiss swollen and so beautiful, but that expression stays. It stays for you. 

Kim Taehyung is beautiful and lovely and unique. Kim Taehyung is so far out of your reach it’s kind of stunning, actually. And yet, here you are, existence of his touch over every part of you, in every part of you, lust driven, love full; the carefully balanced weight of his body splayed over you, pinning you down, keeping you close.

“I wanna see you cum, Tae,” you say. “Please?”

And just like he always does, Taehyung indulges you, just like you indulge him. He presses back inside you, cunt opening up for him so easy, so smooth, like his touch has already been etched into the memory of your body, perfect for him. He stays pressed close, face so near as he rolls into each thrust, sweat and coconut oil painted across your skin as your bodies shift together.

He’s been covering you in his words, both heated and sweet, and now you return the favour. You tell him how good he feels, how beautiful he is, so good, so perfect, so considerate, how much you’ve wanted this. So good, so long and thick, oh, Tae, feels so good, ah-ah-ah, baby, you’re unreal, fuck.

You can see the exact moment he starts to reach his high, the way he sucks in air, the way he lifts his chin, starts to thrust a little harder, a little faster, chasing that thread of pleasure that’s spiralling through him, and you urge him on. You lift your hips and clench so tight it has him gasping, hips stuttering, and you press your nose against his jaw, saying give it to me give it to me give it to me, wanting him to feel the same pleasure he’s given you. 

When he pulls out, you’re too busy moving to pay attention to how empty you feel, settling between his legs and swallowing down his shining cock almost desperately. There’s no coconut. You can only taste yourself and when you lave your tongue across his slit it’s all Taehyung-Taehyung-Taehyung, hot and salt and bitter; he gasps and his hips jump and you take it all, lowering your head as far as you can, the head of his cock at the back of your throat before you pull up, dragging your tongue over the pulsing vein at the underside, messy and wet. You drink down the wetness of his cock, your own arousal, mixed with his, the precum that beads at his head, staring up at him, your hands sliding over the sheen of his stomach, his thighs, cupping his balls, everything slick with oil and sweat.

“Oh, God.” Taehyung’s eyes are blown and his hair is a mess and his mouth is wide open as he pants for air, watching. “Baby, baby, I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum.”

You suck hard, dragging your lips up from the base of the cock to the rounded tip, swirling your tongue, bobbing your head faster—

“Oh, fuck—”

—and you swallow down each wave of cum, swallow down the way his cock twitches as he spills the evidence of pleasure into your mouth, swallow down the lovely noises that shudder out of him, watching him the whole time, never wanting to look away.

When you take your mouth off his softening cock, you draw a line of kisses with your mouth, up the soft skin of his body, stomach to chest to neck to mouth. He licks the taste of coconut oil off your lips, the taste of himself off your tongue; you curl up in his lap, settled against him, the apartment’s cool air even sharper against your skin, magnified by the oil that still lingers.

(Even without the oil painted across him, Taehyung would still shine, even under the weak light from the cheap lightbulb that hangs above you.)

You feel soft and warm and small in the circle of Taehyung’s arms, pulled close, and you can hear the words in his chest as he speaks, a resonance that touches against your skin.

“‘M sorry,” he murmurs. 

You pause.

“Baby, love, darling.” The endearments are sugar sweet in your mouth, soft against his skin before you pull back to look at him, confused, concerned. “Sorry for what?”

“I really—I really was just planning to do a massage, but you’re so…” 

You let out a slip of laughter. The room smells of coconut and sex, but when you lay your head against Taehyung’s collarbone all you can smell is the light tinge of his sweat. You breathe in, deep, like you can hold onto that ephemeral part of him. “Oh, Tae. I’m so what?”

“You’re so good,” he says. “So good and kind and lovely and—and so beautiful. I was going to do the massage to make you happy and then… tell you. About how happy you make me.”

You burrow your head into the hollow of his neck, the way he does to you, shy. “I’m not as beautiful as you,” you reply. “Tae, you are literally the most beautiful person alive, and—God, I’ve. I’ve been. So head over heels for you.”

There’s a pause. “Really?”

When you pull back to fix Taehyung with all the surprise in your gaze, you can see that he’s surprised, too. His hair hangs into his eyes, and he looks a little unsure, like he believes you, but finds it impossible to fathom.

You leave massage oil on his cheeks when you cup his face in your hands, staring at him with wide eyes. “Kim Taehyung, I have had daily breakdowns about the intensity of my love for you to Pickles ever since we got him. You’re the first person I think about each morning—usually because we wake each other up—and the last thing I think about at night—well, usually because you end up climbing into my bed more often than not, but, it still counts,” you say. You’re both tangled together in so many ways already. “You’ve had my heart for a long time, you know. I just never thought I had a chance?”

When Taehyung kisses you, it’s brief, a hard press of his lips before he rests his forehead against yours. “You really, really have no idea how perfect you are,” he murmurs. “I’ve wanted—I want to do everything for you to show you how grateful I am for everything you do for me.”

“You don’t have to,” you protest, but he just smiles.

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” he says. “Like you don’t have to look after me, but you do.”

“That’s because I love you,” you say. “Like, capital L love you.”

You’ve been so afraid of confessing, so convinced that it was an unattainable dream; that Kim Taehyung would never, could never, has never seen you as more than a friend. But the way he’s looking at you now, the way he’s touched you, the way your body still echoes with the feeling of him inside you: you’re not scared, any more. You don’t need to be.

Taehyung’s eyes are so dark and warm when he replies, easy and effortless. “I love you, too.”

Your relationship has always been a give and take, is the thing. When you climb in the shower together, he washes the oil from your back while you massage shampoo into his scalp, laughing when he makes devil horns in his hair. He catches you by surprise when he presses you against the tiles, swallowing your moans when he coaxes one final orgasm from your tired body, rubbing tight circles over your clit as you buck against his hand and water cascades over you both. His cock hardens in your hands, sliding between your legs when you press them together, tight-tight-tight, his length rubbing against your cunt as he fucks your thighs until he’s moaning and shaking and cumming again.

(The water’s cold by the time you finally climb out, but that’s okay. You giggle and kiss as you dry yourselves, each other, excuses to keep touching and feeling, driven by affection, not lust.)

When you’re both clean, and dry, Taehyung’s leg thrown over your hip as he tugs you in, flush with his body under the covers, you press your lips against the line of his jaw.

“Taehyung?”

“Yes, angel?”

You smile and hunch up even closer to him, scrunching yourself up as small as you can to plaster yourself against his side. “Thank you for the wonderful massage. Definitely the best massage I’ve ever been given, ten out of ten, would do again.”

Taehyung laughs, pressing his rectangular smile into the kiss he lays against your lips, and you think that nothing tastes better than the happiness curling his mouth.

“Love you,” he murmurs. Always romantic. “I love you love you love you.”

“Tae-honey-hyung.” And it feels so nice to not have to filter your words, to bite back that second layer of meaning, to try and keep things platonic and chaste when you speak. “I love you.”

And it feels so nice to have your Taehyung beside you, your body still aching with the press of him inside you, a good ache, a nice ache. A physical ache from good love, rather than a heartache from a love you didn’t think was reciprocated. But it is, somehow, each of you so bowled over by each other.

--

(“Hey, Pickles.”

The bearded dragon looks up at you, placid as he lounges in his tank.

“Well, you’ll be happy to hear that you won’t have to put up with me ranting at you any more,” you say. “Taehyung did break out the massage oil but it’s all good. I didn’t spontaneously combust or anything, like I thought I would.”

Pickles’ tongue flicks out as he shifts, and you smile.

“Okay, that’s it, I’m done,” you finish. “Thanks, Pickles. You’re a real pal.”

Taehyung nuzzles into your neck. His arms are a tight circle around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as he looks down at the reptile, too. He’s warm and solid against your back, and you lean into him, happiness tingling through you.

“I wonder how much longer we would have taken if you didn’t get that coupon for a massage therapy course,” you muse, and Taehyung chuckles, warm and lovely.

“We would have gotten there eventually. And we would have had each other until we did, anyway. Right, angel?”

Pickles stays quiet as you both kiss, but you can tell he approves.)

--

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​

[tamsin-moon]

Bottling

Notes: Bill Williamson x Male Reader Injury and blood mention, nightmares, small panic attack, cursing, excessive drinking mention. Starts tense but ends up fluffy I promise! Bill and reader have been together little over a year. Have been in Horseshoe Overlook a couple weeks now and reader knows Bill is getting close to a breakdown as he’s been bottling up everything he feels about the Blackwater mess. 

The last thing you expected or wanted to hear at 7am as you were coming off your shift of guard duty was Bill shouting, really shouting. “Get the hell away from me!” Being the words that reached your ears and you were breaking into a jog to get to the scene quickly. And indeed it was a scene that was unfolding quickly as you arrived, but what the hell had set it off? You would try to figure it out quickly, but all you could really tell was your man was getting ready to beat on Swanson who was on the ground and obviously drunk again.

Cursing under your breath you would see others gathering and a couple moving to intervene, but you were already much closer. Unfortunately your choice of action was not the best as you reached to grab his shoulder, speaking as you did, “Bill, take a breath” being what you said, but the man was taking a swing instead. All you could figure is he must not have seen you approach because in the next instant his fist would be connecting with your jaw and you would go stumbling back. Tripping instead of getting your balance you would land on your left shoulder with a grunt as a jolt of pain coursed through it.

Everything would just go silent and you could feel eyes on you as you pushed yourself to sit back up, your gaze looking up to the powerful man and feeling your heart clench. Not at the fact he had hit you, no that was a stupid move on your part, but at the look on his face. The color had drained from his features and he almost looked as if he had been shot by the pure shock and almost horror on his features. He almost couldn’t believe he had hit you, but as his knuckles throbbed and the color began to bloom on your jaw it was clear.

“Darlin’? I…no…I didn’t mean” He couldn’t get out a full sentence and everyone was just staring at the both of you. He felt sick at what he had done and when Charles moved to help you up he just had to get out of there. Pushing past anyone in his way he was nearly running for Brown Jack and mounting up. He just needed to get out of there, to try to breathe or hit something else, he wasn’t sure yet. How could you forgive him for this? He was certain you wouldn’t and it terrified him even more as he rode off.

Letting Charles pull you to your feet your hand immediately went to rub your throbbing shoulder as you thanked him. Normally landing like that wouldn’t hurt so much, but a still healing gunshot wound was a tender thing. Sure the wound was completely closed since it had occurred in the whole Blackwater mess, but the muscle was still tender and a sudden shock just had it pulsing. “You alright?” you would hear your friend ask and you found yourself just sighing as you got your feet moving towards your own horse, “I’ll live, but I gotta head after him”

You could tell several were surprised at that, Arthur even stopping you with a hand to your good shoulder, “You sure you shouldn’t let him cool off first? He’ll come back” he try to reason, but you were shaking your head. Patting his own shoulder in return before pulling away, “You didn’t see the look on his face, he shouldn’t be alone right now. I know where he went, up on Caliban’s Seat, if we aren’t back by tomorrow morning send a search party” And you were certain that you were right as you and Bill had been up there just a couple days ago on your way back from Valentine. Just taking a moment to yourselves and he had mentioned you should go back there soon, maybe overnight.

Getting to your horse you would pull yourself up into the saddle with a grimace, checking your weapons quick, before you were pushing your horse into a trot. Ignoring anymore calls after you, you were just focusing on Bill and praying that nothing happened before you got to him. You had been worrying about him for weeks now, honestly, he’d been drinking more. Especially at night and waking hungover nearly every morning, the only explanation being he couldn’t sleep otherwise, but he wouldn’t tell you what the problem was.

You had a good guess, though, it was a problem for most of you. Nightmares of Blackwater. While most of you had confided in others, you knew Bill hadn’t. If he was going to, you knew it would be to you and it had yet to happen, so you had slowly been watching him get more and more tense. His temper was shorter, the brawl in the Valentine saloon proved that, and at Sean’s welcome back party you hadn’t seen him without a bottle in his hand even if his other was around you. As much as you hated something like this had happened, you hoped it would actually help in the end.

Your mind focusing back in as you got close to your destination you would feel a bit of relief as you spot Brown Jack grazing near the base of the hill. If you had been wrong where he’d gone, well honestly you probably would have started to panic, but you pushed that thought away as you dismounted. The walk up to the top was a bit steep and you had to be careful, but the view at the top was worth it as you had found out the last time. That was not where you would be looking, no, you were casting your eyes about and feeling your heart clenching again as you spot him sitting at the base of one of the trees.

His head was leaned back against the bark, eyes closed and you could see his chest rising and falling with deep breaths as his hands clenched at his sides He was trying to calm down, really, but his thoughts were spiraling out of control. He had nearly lost you to a bullet, but now he had definitely lost you to his own fist were the most prominent and he did not even notice you approaching or crouching in front of him.

This time you would be a bit smarter, just calling his name for the moment, “Bill? Bill can you hear me darling?” you call twice, the second time louder and you would see him jump. Eyes finding yours as his hand went to his gun for a moment before letting it relax again. You could see the fear in his eyes as he met your own and the tears that were on his cheeks, it broke your heart. “You followed me?” You would barely hear it, but the tone was complete shock, he didn’t think you would have.

Surprised as a small smile came to your lips you would move closer, shifting yourself to sit next to him against the tree and leaning your right shoulder to his, “Course I did, you know how much it scared me you takin’ off like that?” you ask, keeping your tone calm. You knew he thought you were mad, but you were far from that and didn’t miss how just you leaning against him had a little bit of tension leaving him. “You remember you can talk to me right? About anything, especially nightmares.” You say after a moment and hear him suck in a breath.

It was silent for a few minutes, you just watching him from the corner of your eye, seeing he was thinking and trying to figure out what to say. You would be patient, knowing rushing him never helped, and would just idly rub your still aching shoulder without thinking. The action seemed to finally be a tipping point, though, and he would speak quiet as he asked, “Even if they’re about….you?” That would almost surprise you, but after another moment you realized exactly what he kept dreaming about.

“Me getting shot.” You say simply, feeling him tense again before a shudder ran through him. It had you shifting, arm wrapping around him as your other hand came to his bearded cheek. Coaxing him to look at you and leaning in to press your lips to his slowly, grounding the both of you with the gentle action. “Of course you can talk to me about them, any time,” you assure him as you rest your forehead to his, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. Feeling him nod you let him take his time, of course, letting him lean back and almost shuddering yourself as his hand came up.

It would come to rest just a little to the right of where the scar of your wound actually lay, “I keep dreaming you get shot here….not here” he start, hand sliding just into the top of your slightly unbuttoned shirt to actually rest over the scar. “You’re bleeding bad…yellin’ for me…for anyone, but no matter what I do I can’t get to you” His voice was shaking as he spoke more and the next words were almost choking him, “When I finally do you’re….I wake up soon as I touch you and I just..” The sentence would break off as his strong arms would nearly shoot around you, pulling you tight to him and he buried his face into your chest.

You could feel the tears and how he shook with almost sobs, your arms coming around him in return and rubbing your hands up his back. Resting your head to the top of his own you just tried to keep your breathing even, “It’s alright darlin’, just let it out. I got you and I ain’t letting go. All this bottling it up and using a bottle to try to silence it isn’t good for you. You feel it starting to eat away you just find me, we can come up here or find somewhere else quiet, just the two of us” you murmur against his hair as you hold him tight.

In the end you would have no idea how long you sat like that and just let him get it out, but eventually he would pull back to look at you. His eyes falling to the bruise forming on your jaw and a new, deflated look would come to his eyes. Oddly it would just have you chuckling and you turn your head so he can see it better, “Yeah you laid me out real good, my own damn fault too for startling you” The smile on your face was wider now and you would feel your heart warm some as he chuckled, “Yeah, was meant for Swanson, but you just had to take it instead” he tease back lightly before dragging a sleeve across his face.

“How’d the reverend set you off anyways?” You finally ask after a moment as you both settle back against the tree, his arm slipping around your back to pull you against him again as he shook his head, “Honestly? I don’t think it was really anything, think he was just singing and stepped in front of me. I just…snapped” and you would nod understanding, leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek before settling your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes, “Just next time you run off, can you wait till I’ve had a nap?”

[mysecretatticsstuff]

Pranks

Pairing : Jeon jungkook x reader

Word count: 27.3k

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, emotional breakdown.

Summary: You thought you were going to enjoy college. Even with unfortunate events and a poor sleep schedule you were trying to live your best life. Untill one particular kid, aka golden boy of campus came dashing into your life.

College. The place you got excited to go thinking you would finally meet good people, make friends and have the time of your life. And yet here you are, 3 am in the morning just barely hanging in there with a paint brush in your hand finishing up the poster that was supposed to be a group project for physiology class. You have dozed off a couple of times now, with eyes open doing the detailed line work that you suggested not to put in it because of the amount of time it takes. You almost messed it up but your multitasking skills save you. In short you hate college. Or more so, you hate your luck for always putting you in the companionship of the worst people in the world. You can now permanently stamp a "pissed off" warning to your forehead to avoid casualties.

Grumpy wasn't even a mood anymore, it's a lifestyle. And some people just make it real difficult for you to not eat them alive. On top of that list was Mr. Jeon Jungkook. Golden boy, good at whatever he does, loved by everyone he has a conversation with. Well except for you. You on the other hand want to kill him. Not because you're jealous or anything. Heck you would be happy for him if he didn't make your life a living hell. You always wondered what you did for him to hate your existence so much. He kept pulling off weird ass stunts with you. Once he filled your water bottle with chilli tomato ketchup, you took a gulp without knowing and had a red face for a legit hour. Another time he issued the last copy of only book that had the reference you needed and kept it untill a day before the assignment was due. So you had to beg him to give the book to you and complete the whole assignment in one day. (Which was not fun of course). He mixed salt in your drink, splashed water from behind while you were returning to your apartment and what not. At first you thought to ignore him, when the stunts were small. But he just kept doing that shit and you grew angrier. When you asked him, why the heck was he doing that to you he just simply smiled like a devil, winked at you and walked away. That was a year ago, since that day you have been wanting to kill him.

You weren't the aggressive type by nature, your friends would agree that you were the most calm and collected, amiable and open minded friend in the group. Your personality was more of a mediator than a murderer. But the golden boy brought out the beast in you. When you realised that he isn't stopping with the obnoxious pranks. You started pulling off your own as a revenge. To be honest you didn't even regret it. Heck it was even cathartic. Once you hid his clothes while he was in the gym, so basically he had to wait inside the bathroom for the whole day in a towel. (You took his phone too so that he couldn't call anyone for help). You "accidentally" splashed juice onto his crisp white t-shirt before an early morning class. You wrapped his bike with cling film and bubble wrap. It was tiring but worth it when you saw his face, glaring daggers at you cause he was getting late for class and couldn't leave his apartment. You made sure you smiled sweetly at him when he saw you that day.

By now, everyone in your friend circle and both of your departments knew how you both jumped at the first opportunity to ruin each others day. You stopped questioning Jungkook because he never answered instead you focused on how to attack him in the best way.

The past two months have been extra rough for you, both personally and academic wise. Hence, jungkook's bickering has had you in a new level of pissed. A level you didn't know existed. Honestly you were amazed by the fact that you haven't had a breakdown till now. You didn't get any chance to pull anything off against him and that makes you angrier. I guy you were talking to back and forth has suddenly ghosted you and you are wallowing in all the self pity. You've had less than 4 hours of sleep for the past week because of all the requirements for class. You're just a week away from finishing everything off and you're praying that the devil doesn't make it impossible.

You personally hated Mondays, but who are you kidding everyday feels like a monday now. You head to the library first thing in the morning to finish your paper, a semester worth of work. You settle in starting to type out the last page. About an hour later your phone vibrates.

"Hey where are you?" It was Sunmi your best friend.

"I'm in the library" you wisper shout

"Oh.. i had something urgent to say to you can you come out for a second. I'm almost there."

"Okay, coming" you say.

Outside, sunmi was waiting for you with a book in hand.

"Jeez, y/n you look dead. Do you even sleep anymore?"

You sigh out loud, "Don't ask, i feel like i'm gonna pass out anytime soon. Coffee isn't helping anymore. I think i need drugs"

Sunmi just shakes her head in disbelief "What you need is a good night sleep. And for the drugs part, try sex." She says this in such sincerity that you actually consider it for a second before she laughs.

You laugh too, "Uggh, i can't wait to finally go out this weekend, i'm turning into a hermit. Anyways i'm sure u didn't call me out here to talk about hookups..?"

At this she hands you the book, "Yeah I didn't, but we need to talk about your dry state after you're free tho, but till then here you go. The book that you were searching for, you wouldn't believe how I.. or i should say where I found it I-... "

"Wait... Before you start your essay, i need to finish my paper. I meet you after your classes today. Tell me then. I need to go... Bye!" you hurriedly say before you turn around and enter the library

"But it's about Jungkook... " Sunmi tries to explain. But she realises you can't hear her anymore. She says to herself rather, "I hope you don't find trouble."

You almost reach your designated place when you see him. White T-Shirt and olive green cargos. That little shit, what was he up to again? You hurry to your laptop, only to find him smirking as if he knows some secret you don't.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" You ask. "Ooh.. chill Princess, just thought i'd see you and your work". At the mention of work you wake your computer up. A chill ran down through your spine followed by panic when you couldn't find the document you saved. After a moment, your eyes shot up, glaring dangerously at him. He sat up, folding his arms onto the table. "What's wrong? Can't find something?"

"What the fuck did you do, Jeon?" You wanted to scream bloody murder at him, but you didn't know how were you this calm.

"Tsk, tsk,.. last names now huh? Someone's angry. Tell me princess, will I win a prank of the year trophy this time?"

You were unable to speak. Your blood boiled, you wanted to punch him, better kill him. When you didn't reply he continued. "I hope you remember what your wrote in your thesis, even better if your typing skills are on fire, cause you need to rewrite within one week" He was putting a full display of his evil grin. Clearly amused by the situation he put you in. But you slowly realised what he meant. You quickly went to the recycle bin of your computer to test your luck, but soon saw that the demon had already deleted it from the bin too. Your heart sank. This was not fair. You wanted to cry now. Months and months of your hardwork, gone now. What the fuck was that bitch even thinking. This was not a joke anymore. It was your finals. Yes you both have done horrible things to each other but you made sure that it never got out of line. But him deleting your final thesis. This was definitely out of the line. You could not rewrite the whole thing even if you tried in a week. It would never get close to the original one. You would miss many points and the writing style. Damn you for not keeping an extra copy of the thesis somewhere. But again, you never thought Jungkook would go this low. You didn't even want to think how he figured out the passcode for your laptop. Anger doesn't describe what you were feeling now. You wanted to shut down. When Jungkook didn't hear a threatening or a curse, he chimed in. "Have I pulled the most epic prank on miss y/n that it finally shut her smart mouth?"

You couldn't bare it anymore, all these weeks of running around with just 4 hrs of sleep or sometimes non has made you physically weak. You wanted to escape. You throat hurt from the suppressed tears. But you were not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You look at jungkook in the eye. Cold. You stand up, take your things and leave.

All the way to your apartment, you wanted to cry, but you waited till you were inside the safe heaven of your bed.How could he do this to you? When this crazy prank scenario started you couldn't comprehend why the nicest guy ( according to students and professors) had taken a toll on you. Yes you were angry at the beginning. But soon it had simmered down to something else. You couldn't pin point what, exactly. It's true his pranks were delirious and you hated him with all your will, but you couldn't help notice the small ways he made a difference in your life. You were an over-thinker, and this stupid game of pranks with him kept you busy. It was kind of the only source of entertainment for you as academics was no joke. It's difficult to explain but you became more productive because of him. You became a more open person, you made a lot of friends and most of the conversations started with how people don't understand why both of yo fight. Jungkook's friends became your friends too. You found out a lot of things about him through them. One that he was a naturally competitive person. He was a big softy inside they said, that was a bit hard to believe for you. But once he stood up for you when you were being cat called, he was so close to beating the shit out of the boys, nevertheless you dragged him out of it. He walked you to your apartment without even uttering a word. You wanted to say thank you, but the very next day he deflated your tires. And the saga continued. The moral of the story is you definitely had developed a soft spot for him. And this prank was definitely a blow to your ego and your heart.

All the emotions, the exhaustion just came crashing down and you let the dam break. You cried like a baby, whether because of the grief of your lost files, anger or because of him entirely you didn't know. You woke up 3 hours later, with puffy eyes and a blocked nose. You decided you can't let him get to you. So you did what you do best, turn all the frustration into anger towards him. You arranged all the resources for your thesis, and then you sat down with your laptop typing away from the beginning.

You didn't go to college next day, thought it would be better to stay at home and work. There were no classes anyways. You already sent an email to your professor informing him that there was a technical difficulty and you lost your files. Your professor was kind enough to excuse you from all the classes that week to work on your thesis stating that you had good attendance already. Sunmi called you, she felt guilty about the whole thing. "I should have known there was something fishy when that asshole gave me the book. I shouldn't have asked you to come out".

"Hey, it's fine, it's not your fault. I'll kill him with my own hands once everything is over"

"Still.. i feel super bad. Let me know if you need anything. I can bring you books from the library.."

"Thank you sun, i'll let you know if I need anything.. "

"Okay.... Oh and y/n,.. Jungkook came looking for you today. He seemed anxious? kinda worried even. I told that fucker i don't know where you are. Thought you should know"

Jungkook was looking around for you, that's weird. Was he feeling guilty? You always came up with a new prank. Maybe he is just surprised you vanished. "Hmmm... Thanks, i don't want him to know anything about me, Anyways i couldn't careless about him now. See you later".

"Take care y/n".

It was 10 pm when you stood up from your desk, your shoulders and wrists were stiff from all the typing. You realised you hadn't eaten anything for 7 hours now. It was raining heavily, you felt a bit dizzy. When you finally get out of college, this would be a hell of a story to tell though. You missed home dearly, you wanted someone to just hold you and assure you that everything is going to be okay. You took some leftover pizza from your fridge and put it in the microwave. Sometimes living alone just gets to you. All the loneliness, all the times you wished someone was there to comfort you. Your body ached and you felt pathetic about yourself. 'Why me?' was your question. A mixture of all these thoughts and emotions were swirling in your head and you didn't even realize that you were crying now. This was your 3rd breakdown in a span of two days.

"Pathetic" you muttered to yourself. Then your heard the bell ring. Confused at who came by at this ungodly hour, you wiped your tears and went to get the door.

You didn't expect the person you were staring at. Doe eyes slowly scanned you, from your feet to face. Jungkook.

You must have puffy red eyes, you think. God you didn't want him to see you like this. All petty and defeated. He was partially soaked from the rain. Jungkook just stood there, staring back at you. You waited for him to speak, when he didn't, you finally spoke, "What are you doing here?"

"I didn't see you in college today" he replied. Jungkook looked guilty? Sad even. "Why didn't you attend?" He asks next.

"That's non of your business" that came out harsher than you thought. At this his face turned stern. "Were you crying?"

At this point you don't know what or when will you break down. You could already feel a little lump forming in your throat. You looked down at your feet. "Go away, i have work". That came out so fragile and weak, you cringed internally. He stepped in. Searched around in his pocket and brought out a small USB in his hand. You looked at it and then his face.

"Your files" he said.

"You... why would you even... What the fuck? Jungkook!" With every word your voice rose. You thought he was feeling guilty, but he was just a little brat, playing games. All your softness was gone now.

You could tell by his devilish smirk that he was enjoying this way too much. "Who do you think you are?" You saw red with anger. With that much of a volcano boiling inside you, you were not sure what were you doing. Your hand flew up involuntarily. Lets just say, you would have punched him if it wasn't for his quick reflexes. He grabbed your wrist, turned you around. His other arm swiftly snaked around your waist.

"Woah.. easy princess. You sure you can fight me?" He tightens his grip around you. You hate to admit how badly it affects you. You can feel your knees going weak. His taught chest pressed against your back. You can feel him way too much through your thin t shirt. Your face heats up without you wanting it. No, no, no, no, you can't let your stupid hormones get to you. This is crazy. You hate him. Then why do you suddenly feel hot? As if on cue he lowers his head and whispers in your ear, " You okay, sweetheart?"

The new pet name, sends a spike of electricity just between your legs. You bite your lip to control the moan that threatens to leave your mouth. He notices the change too, the tension between you two is growing. You turn around to face him. He lets you. "I hate you."

His arms are still around you, circling your waist. He looks soft, as if relieved of some burden. Your clothes are getting wet from the contact. You don't know what to say, because you can hardly process what is happening. Just then your microwave beeps to your rescue.

You half jump half stumble away from him. "Uggh, i'll bring you a towel. Be right back."

When you return, he is standing in front of the couch. Looking godly. You sneak a glance at his chest and now hardened nipples before landing your eyes on his face. You hand him the towel. As if a half soaked jungkook wasn't enough. He swifty stripped off his t-shirt before drying himself off. You freeze. He looks at you gaze piercing.

"W- why.. did you do that?"

"You need to be a bit more specific sweetheart" he takes a step closer to you. You don't move away.

"The pranks.. why do you hate me so much, that you need to make my life a living hell?" You said softly.

"Helps me sleep at night." He smirks. You rolled your eyes at this. You were about to turn around when he grabs you by hand.

"I don't hate you. It's quite the opposite actually" Your eyebrows shot up at this. "yeah right. You think you can fool me again?" You scoff.

"I know you're a fool sometimes, but to be honest y/n I didn't know you were this dense" He mocked with a smirk.

"What the fuck? Okay that's it. Get out of my house Jeon" you demanded.

"What if I say no, Princess?"

You couldn't believe it. This guy has the audacity to mock you in your own house and then refuse to leave. You were beyond irritated now.

"How do people like you? You're such an ass. Leave before-..." you didn't get to complete the sentence before he pulls you towards him, with such force that you stumble, loose your balance and fall straight on his chest.

HIS BARE CHEST. GOD THIS WAS BAD. You felt your throat getting dry. You couldn't speak. He was firm, you kind of wonder about how much he works out. You could feel his silky smooth skin. You just stared at him, like a deer caught in headlights.

"That's it? You're not gonna 'make me' leave princess?" He says, with his face inches away from you.

*Pull it together y/n* you scold yourself mentally. But you body just froze and it feels hot. You probably have a red face now. You make another mistake of glancing at his lips, which are so damn close, it kinda makes you feel things you can't explain.

Jungkook notices this. He sees right through you. He finally speaks, "If you still haven't got it y/n, i don't know what to do with you... I... " He sighs, "I like you y/n. A lot. And I don't know how to behave when i'm around you, so I keep teasing you.." he says with a sincere look. "And besides.. you look hot, when you are angry at me" He smiles.

You realise you're still holding each other. Your heart is hammering in your chest. He probably can feel it beating too. You want to punch him for being such a jerk, but you also want to kiss him. You're so frustrated, at this point you don't know where the courage came from for what you did next. You kiss him. Out of all the things this was something he did not expect. This time he froze, hands paralyzed at your hips. When he finally came to his senses that it was really happening, he kissed back.

You snake your arms around his neck, pulling his hair into a fist. He lets out a small moan. You pull back, smirking. "No snarky comments now huh Jeon?" you mock, satisfied with his look. His face is flushed. You can feel his member slowly growing. He took some time to overcome his initial shock. Then he said, "No shit.. I'm.. God you're hot" And he is kissing you again. More in control this time. You part your lips to let him enter. His hands cup your face. Your kiss gets heated, one of his hands goes down, between your breasts, to your stomach. Then he waits, as if asking for permission.

"What now?" You say in between your kisses. "No guts for that?" You challenge him. And this time he actually has nothing to say. So you smirk, you take his hand and slowly slip him under your t-shirt.

"Shit". He mutters. He touches your skin, you feel like you're on fire. Goosebumps form all over your body. You feel alive.

The next thing he did left you speechless. He slips both hand under your t-shirt and with one go pulls off your shirt and throws it behind you. You gawk at him in suprise. You can tell he liked the way you reacted because his eyes went dark and he looked at you like he wanted to take you right there. "Jeez Jeon.. give the girl a break" with this you latched on him again. He stumbled back and landed on the couch. Seeing the opportunity, you climb on him, Keeping your weight on your knees, you hover just above his member. You know he wants you to sit on him, but you don't want to give him the satisfaction.

"I think I need to mess with her assignments more often" saying more to himself than to you. "Specially if it leads to this" he stands up keeping you close.

" I heard that you idiot" you were now feverishly unbuckling his pants. He moved his lips to suck you down your jawline, he made sure to nib and suck a bit harder right above your pulse point.

You let out a moan. Your hands are shaking but you somehow manage to undo his pants.

You feel really hot. You were about to pull his pants down when he holds both of your wrists. You freeze, your mind racing at 100 miles per hour. Did you do something wrong? Are you crossing your line? Did he not want this and you took it otherwise? God this is embarrassing.

You eyes were still wide when he said, "I'm not messing around this time y/n. I really do like you" he looks so very sincere that he moves some part of you. But you decided that you ain't gonna let him go so easily.

"I had three mental breakdowns since yesterday". You shot back. At this his eyes turned sad. Like he was really feeling guilty. You felt bad for him now, wondering if it was too harsh.

"I never wanted that, I thought you would argue with me and at the end of it i'd give you the usb, but you looked so angry, and when u left without saying a word I knew i had fucked up. Big time."

You backed off, hands crossed in front of your chest.

Jungkook knew you were angry. But he couldn't deny that he was beyond turned on by this site, you just in your bra and shorts, angry at him. You didn't know how hard he was trying not to turn you around bend you over your desk and fuck you silly.

You noticed that he visibly gulped, he was eyeing you like a prey. But he waited, because you were angry. He wanted to do this right.

"And all this time I kept wondering what wrong did I do to you. I hate you, you know that Jeon?...

"Baby, i'm sorry" he purred stepping closer.

A new surge of arousal hit you at this. "D.. Don't baby me..." The stuttering gave you out. He smirked liked a devil. He closed the gap between the two of you. He hovered above your lips, "forgive me please" he said just an inch away from your lips.

"Kiss me please" you said, not being able to process anything. And he did, he kissed you like there was no tomorrow. Strong and urgent. He cupped your ass and gave a tight squeeze. You let out a moan.

"Do you want to take it to the bedroom?" He asked voice an octave deeper.

You nodded, not trusting your mouth. He lifted you and you wrapped your legs around him. His body was divine, his skin was smooth, heat radiated from him although he was soaked before, lips not sparring you even one 1 second. You could feel his hard on, on your stomach and it felt powerful that you can do such things to him.

"God i've been dreaming about this for so long"

"How long, jeon?" You asked stripping him off his pants and underwear.

"From the moment you debated with your proffessor about a theory in front of your department. I watched you prove your points to him, and i swear to god I had a hard on since. I had to run to the bathroom to give myself some relief " he chuckles at the memory.

"Nerd" Fully naked now, you stare at his body.

"Damn, why are you so hot. This is not fair"

He looked at you. "I see you haven't gotten rid of your clothes yet y/n.. i would like to watch baby"

So you stripped, putting up a show for him. He grabbed you when you were about to take off you panties. He turned you around, pushed you onto the wall, you balanced yourself onto the wall.

"You're gorgeous." He said before slipping his large hand in your panties and cupping your entire sex. He then hurriedly took your panties off. He pressed himself on your behind and you whimpered. He fondled your breasts with one hand and the other slowly slid towards your dripping core.

He kept touching you there, in slow tantilizing movements. You squirmed. He teased you more, knowing you needed some pressure on your clit. He avoided it the most. You were growing anxious.

"Juuunngkook... Please" you draged each syllable.

"What's wrong?" He was enjoying this way too much you could tell.

"I think I deserve being worshipped after what you make me go through kook". You stated with eyes screwed shut.

"Okay, that's fair". At this he dipped one finger inside, testing if you could take him. He gasped at the warmth and the slick that now covered his fingers. He started slow at first, drawing out low moans from you. Then without alarm he added one more digit and started pistoning in and out. You arched your back with pleasure. You were so aroused, and mixed up with your pent up stress and frustration you could already feel something heavy settling at your lower belly, tightening inch by inch.

"Kook... I'm gonna... Cum". You said between grunts.

"You're doing so good baby, cum on my fingers"

You found your release at his praise. Pleasure coursing through your veins with lightening speed. Mid orgasm Jungkook smacks your pussy. And you go crazy at that, so much that you see white. When you finally come to your sense you find his strong arms snaking your waist and holding you, so that you don't fall down. He upper body completely glued to you.

Then you finally speak, head thrown back chest heaving

"I think,.. this was the strongest I ever came in my life"

Jungkook chuckles, "You're welcome". He kisses your shoulder. He slowly lets you go, so that you can stand by your own. You haven't forgotten the fact that, his hard on is pressing onto your back, waiting for the attention.

"So tell me Jeon..." You kiss him slowly moving towards your bed, you stop, look him innocently in the eye and ask, "Where do you wanna cum? My mouth or my pussy?"

"God, if you keep saying such things, I think i can cum just like this" His hand rubs all over your body, "For now, let's put that sinful mouth of yours into good use, okay?"

You nod, leading him to lie down on the bed.

If somebody would have told you, the previous day, that you out of all the people would blow Jeon jungkook, in your bed. You would have smacked them in the face.

You straddle him, and then you start Pickering kisses, first his mouth then his jaw. You have to admit he is a damn good kisser, you get so lost in the kissing that you almost miss that he is grinding himself onto your core. Coating himself with the slick. You feel your pussy tingling. You keep peppering kisses moving to his jawline, then his neck, biting a bit hard on his sweet spot to make sure it blooms with purple afterwards.

At one point he gropes you ass with one hand and pushes you down to grind with more force.

"Change of plans sweetheart. Do you have condoms?" He asks, eye sparking with lust.

You sit straight, a smirk plastered on your face, you bend towards your nightstand, and bring out a foil packet from your drawer.

"Always so fucking prepared" he slaps your ass, you gasp at the sting. He is looking at you, trying to figure out whether you liked it or not. You moan, with your eyes closed.

Jungkook is painfully hard now. If he doesn't put it inside you, he thinks he might burst out of sheer arousal.

"Baby.." he says in a raspy voice

You hurry up at this, you tear the foil and roll it onto him. You raise up to lie down but he grabs you. "Ride me.." voice octaves lower. You're so wet already, you don't think you need extra prepping. You come back to your stance and slowly sink in holding his member for guidance.

Both moan at the pleasure surging through the body. You're impressed by his strength, for holding out so long. He has his eyes tight shut, almost as if everything is too much for him. You feel great, warm where he is inside you. You notice how beautiful he looks under you. Head arched back into the pillow, he looks sexy as hell.

You were zoned out in your thoughts, when he snapped back. "Y/n move". And there you were riding the most handsome guy from campus. And you couldn't believe both of you were making such mind blowing noises. You piston on him for a while before getting tired, thankfully he got the message. He started thrusting his hips up to you with such a velocity that you didn't know was even possible. You could feel another orgasm right around the corner, but you didn't want to finish before him.

"Kook, are you close?"

"So close baby" he whined .

"Me too.. ughhh"

At this he moved his hands from your hips to your breasts. He gave a squeeze. His member was throbbing inside you.

"Come with me y/n" he said through gritted teeth. Suddenly he then spanked one of your boob, while other hand pressed on your clit. You didn't see it coming and the suprise helped to exceeded any pleasure you felt in your whole life. Heat surged from your fluttering cunt throughout your belly. Your orgasm hit you like a truck. It was so strong you couldn't hear anything for some seconds. That followed by ringing of your ears.

You don't know when did he flipped you on your back but you could see his eyes screwed shut, eyebrows drawn together. One last trust and he was coming with you. Your highest high lasted for a while, and left you with aftershocks. Jungkook collapsed on top of you, he hadn't pulled out yet and your sensitive sex was still clenching on him.

You both layed there motionless. It was he who moved first, pulling out with a slight hiss. He tossed his condom with a knot in the trash can and fell back on the bed with a thump. You were still slightly dazed out from the orgasm. He chuckled seeing you in the bliss.

"God, Jeon, i'll be sore tomorrow."

"Well I'll take that as a complement" he smiled.

"That was hot. You're hot" you replied turning away your head feeling shy, all of a sudden.

He grabbed you by your waist and pulled you close, "Damn baby, i didn't know i'd see this side of y/l/n ever."

"Don't stroke your ego too much jeon".

He kissed your shoulder and smiled, "Do you have any idea, how hot and pretty and beautiful you are?"

You looked at him, for the first time you saw how his eyes twinkled while talking to you.

So you just kiss him, which he welcomes whole heartedly.

.

.

The next day you step in the college campus feeling amazing. You have been smiling to yourself since the morning. Since Jungkook gave back your thesis, it was just an hour's work away from getting the final sweep before submission. You hit the library, finish off your work and finally submit it. Your proffessor was not surprised when you told him that Jungkook pranked you again. Even if he found it weird that you had no anger or resentment towards him, he didn't point it out. Now that you felt 10kgs lighter, you had one class to attend and then you were done for the week.

You were heading back to class, when some of your classmates commented, "Hey y/n, we're rooting for you both" . They glimmered while talking to you. Unfortunately they passed by too quickly for you to enquire. You entered the class, confused and zoned out enough that you don't eveb notice how everyone's eyes are on you.

"Y/l/n".

You know that voice. You look towards the last row, he stands, smiling at you. You didn't know what was happening, but your nerves were on fire. Your hands suddenly got clammy and your heart beat started to fasten. You internally scolded yourself.

*Calm down, it's just Jungkook*

He looked nervous? You could tell, it wasn't his usual cocky behaviour. He didn't know what to do with his hands. So he just let them hang. It's weird you think.

As your gears in your brain were working, you start walking towards him. But his voice stopped you.

"Y/n".. then he jutted out his chin, pointing behind you. You could hear your heart hammering.

You turn.

" Y/N Y/L/N, I'M SORRY, SAY YES.. PLEASE?

-J.K. "

There it was written on the white board. In bold capital letters.

Is this a joke? If it's a joke you're not going to be able to walk out of here. Did Jungkook sleep with you so that he could pull the biggest prank in history? But he said all those sweet things yesterday right?

Before you could react, Jungkook spoke behind you. You turned to find him in front of you. You were hyperaware now, the students who were entering silently took their seats looking at you two. This felt like a scene from the movies.

"Y/n, i'm sorry that all this time I made your life a living hell. But i'm also glad because otherwise I wouldn't have the chance to know you." He smiles, his nervousness showing.

He slowly takes your hand. You let him. You already feel the emotions surging inside you. Is he really going to ask you out in front of the whole class?

He takes a long pause. It's almost painful waiting for him to finish the speech. Then he says-

"I'm sorry, Y/n will you be my girlfriend?" He says in one breath.

You gasped. All you could do was just stare at him, staring you back. Suddenly you forgot how to speak. Jungkook breaks the silence. "Say something please, you're killing me here. I -"

"Yes". He stops speaking. Grin slowly spreading from ear to ear.

"ABOUT FUCKING TIME" Someone from the class cheers. Everybody starts clapping. You can't stop smiling. Jungkook pulls you towards him, hugging you. You hug him back.

"Aww guys just kiss each other already!!" Hoseok, spoke with a mischievous smiled plastered on his face.

Jungkook pulled your face towards him for a kiss. It was a sweet kiss. You smirked when you felt how badly he wanted to shove his tongue down your throat but refrained since you're in public. Seeing you smirk, he whispers to you. "I can't wait to take you to my place after this". You shiver at the thought.

____________________________________________

"Mmmmm, kook..." He kissed your neck. You could get used to this. Straddling his lap and making out.

"Yes baby.." u feel his smirk against your skin.

"I have a question." You said, putting a space between you two. He took your hands and started leaving pecks starting from your knuckles moving upwards. You giggled.

"Why didn't proffessor take our class today, like he came 1 hr late, gave us homework and went away. I feel like this has something to do with you asking me out.."

"Y/n, babe out of all the questions you could ask me while making out, you choose this?" He pretended to be offended. You smacked his chest looking at him expectantly.

He started- "Well I might have talked to the prof before class telling him, i kinda need a favour from him.. "

"WHAT?" U couldn't believe this boy.

"Perks of having good rapport with prof. Also i always pay attention in class. You should learn from me y/n.." he looked at you innocently. As if he was not kneading your ass right now.

"Jeon Jungkook please tell me that you at least made up a situation or does our proffessor has first hand knowledge about us being in love.." the L word just slipped out. You acted like you didn't notice. But he surely did.

He winked at you, smiling wide like he got a promotion. "What did you just say?"

"Ugh about what?"

" About us being in something."

He was so smug about this, you knew he had won. You leaned into him.

"Let me show you instead" you wispered in his ear. The hair on Jungkook's body stood up , he had goosebumps. He picked you up towards his bedroom.

"Goddamn I love you".

[the-garris0n]

helping hand - tommy shelby

tommy shelby x reader

summary: As the new maid in Tommy’s house, Y/N steps in to help him during a breakdown

a/n: another one i wrote a year ago and never finished, except more hurt/comfort this time. enjoy :) 

Warnings: mentions of blood, alcohol abuse

- 

Behind the study door, a glass smashed. The second one in five minutes. The more senior staff had told you to steer clear of your employer when he was like this, that there was nothing you or anyone else could do, but you couldn’t help feeling concerned. You stood across the hall, watching the door, until something touched your leg and made you jump. 

‘Y/N?’ A worried voice said quietly. You looked down to see Charlie Shelby gripping the bottom of your black dress.

‘Hello, Charlie,’ you whispered, crouching down so you were at eye level with the small boy. He has his father’s bright blue eyes, but his were much softer, and full of fear.

‘What’s Dad doing?’ He asked, pointing towards the door. You smiled, taking his hand. On the other side of the door, Tommy Shelby had gone quiet.

‘He’s just being a bit clumsy, see. He’s just dropped a glass,’ you explained, stroking your hand across his sandy hair.

‘He’s okay?’ The pleading look in his eyes made your heart melt. It couldn't be easy for him, hearing his father’s breakdowns nearly every day. You’d only been working in the house for a week and it had been nearly constant. You’d never even properly met your new employer, but you and Charlie had already become close.

‘Shall I go check on him?’ You asked. He nodded slowly. ‘Okay, you stay here.’ He sat down on the step, watching you as you crossed the hallway. You smiled reassuringly at him before opening the door, shutting it quickly behind you to shield Charlie from the scene inside.

The smell of gin smacked your nose as soon as you entered. Through a thick haze of cigarette smoke you saw Tommy Shelby, hunched on the floor, surrounded by jagged shards of glass. One arm was cradled to his chest, his shirt sleeve torn and speckled with red spots. The other held a burning cigarette, forgotten about. He didn’t even notice you come in. 

‘Mr Shelby?’ You asked tentatively. He didn't respond. He didn't even move.

You stepped back out into the hall, breathing the fresh air and shutting the door firmly. Plastering a fake smile onto your lips, you scooped Charlie up off the floor and carried him towards the kitchen.

‘Everything’s fine. Your Dad said he’s just busy working at the moment,’ you explained softly. Charlie rested his head against your shoulder, seeming content with your answer.

‘Will he come out later?’ He asked.

‘As soon as he’s finished working I’ll send him straight to see you,’ you said reassuringly. Charlie fell quiet, finally placated, as you handed him over to one of the kitchen staff with a knowing look. You grabbed a roll of bandages out of a kitchen drawer. ’I’ll be back in a minute, Charlie.’

You stepped into the study again, bracing yourself against the smoke and fumes, and shut the door behind you. Approaching Tommy carefully, you picked up the shards of glass that circled him and drop them into the bin. The sound of glass hitting metal stirred Tommy, and he squinted up at you. You threw the curtains open and pulled up the sash windows, letting the sunlight cut through the thick smoke. Tommy groaned in protest. At last you turned your attention to him. Kneeling next to him, you took the burnt-down cigarette from his hand and tossed it into the cut glass ashtray on his desk. The other hand was squeezed into a fist, dripping blood onto his white shirt. You took it in your own hands, prising it open gently to reveal the long wound across his palm. He leaned his head back against the desk, watching you through his long eyelashes.

‘You’re not Francis,’ he murmured, as if he’d only just noticed you.

‘I’m the new girl, Sir. Francis retired,’ you replied, picking a shard of glass out of his palm delicately with your fingernail. He shook his head unsteadily.

‘I don’t need help,’ he protested, his words slurring into each other. You raised an eyebrow, looking around at the state of the study. He followed your gaze, as if seeing the room for the first time, and frowned. You finished wrapping his hand tightly. He pulled it back from your grasp, eyeing it suspiciously.

‘You should get up, Mr Shelby,’ you said, sitting back on your heels.

‘Hmm.’ He reached behind to grab a very nearly empty bottle of gin from the desk and drained it in one go, smacking the bottle onto the floor next to him. You winced at the sound.

‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough?’

‘I won’t’ve had enough until I can get this shit out of my head.’ He pressed his uninjured hand against his temple, closing his eyes like it hurt. You looked at the dark shadows around his eyes, his sunken cheeks making his cheekbones even more prominent than usual, and wondered when he’d last eaten or slept. He probably couldn't remember.

‘Mr Shelby, you’re covered in blood,’ you said, trying to persuade him in vain. ‘I’ll run a bath and get the cook to make you something to eat.’ He just shook his head.

‘I’m fine.’ You sighed heavily. He pulled a fresh cigarette out of his trouser pocket and tried unsuccessfully to light it. His hands were shaking. You took the lighter from his hand and sparked it, holding it out for him. After a moment he leaned forward, at least accepting this much help. Giving up on trying to get him to get up for now, you sat down on the floor opposite him. 

‘I’m sorry if I’m overstepping, but Charlie needs you. He can’t lose you too.’ Your voice broke through the silence. Anger flashed through Tommy’s eyes and he fixed you with a poisonous glare, but a second later it was extinguished. He rubbed his hand over his face.

‘I know.’ He seemed to be sobering up, or at least doing a good job of acting like it. ‘What’s your name?’ He asked suddenly.

‘Y/N,’ you answered, giving him a brief smile.

‘Y/N,’ he repeated, like he was testing out the sound of it. ‘I heard you outside, with Charlie.’

‘You did?’ You blushed. He nodded solemnly.

‘Thank you, for protecting him.’ You had a feeling he never would've said it sober, but it was nice to hear him say it at all.

‘Just doing my job.’ 

‘It’s supposed to be my job.’ He shook his head, taking a final drag of his cigarette before dropping it into the ashtray. ‘I don’t know how to do this. I can’t do anything right anymore.’ You felt a pang of sadness for him, and for Charlie. The love and care Charlie had for his father was clearly mirrored in Tommy’s eyes, the alcohol stripping away the mask he always kept firmly on.

‘You’re a good father. I know you care about Charlie. But you can’t look after him properly until you start looking after yourself.’ His head snapped up, and you wondered if you’d gone a step too far. Tommy’s eyes fixed on you, his face stony. In the long silence, you waited for him to shout or to fire you on the spot. Without another word, he pushed himself up from the floor, still cradling his injured hand to his chest, and started towards the door.

‘Run a bath. And have the cook send something to my room,’ he said without looking back as you scrambled to your feet.

‘Of course, sir,’ you replied, smiling to yourself.

[lunanight2012]

A Whole New World Chapter 1 Part 1

Key:

{Y/N} = Your Name

{E/C} = Eye Color

{H/L} = Hair Length

{H/C} = Hair Color

{S/C} = Skin Color

{N/N} = Nickname

{L/N} = Last Name

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1 year later

(1st person pov)

A whole year has passed since I came to this world and you know what. I love it!

Harry and I have been paired together, and well. We kinda have a thing. I have long since gotten rid of my old clothes and became a full fledged pirate. Oh and Harry and I live together in his apartment.

He's become my best friend, I've never had a best friend so this was nice.

"{Y/N}! Hello? Ya coming?" Harry exclaimed from the hall.

"I'm comin!" I exclaimed, getting my bandana and tying it around my head, keeping my {H/C} {H/L} out of my face.

I headed out of the bedroom and over to where Harry was waiting for me at the door. I smirked, a very mischievous idea coming to mind. I grabbed his hook from him and bolted out the door, giggling like crazy.

"Get back 'ere!" Harry shouted, chasing after me, though I could hear the laughter in his voice.

I laughed as I dodged residents in the market, making my way towards Ursula's Chip Shop. 

Making it inside I placed his hook on the sword check barrel, placing my sword inside before I scampered off towards Uma.

"Bout time Ya showed up… where's Harry?" Uma questioned as I got on my apron to help out at the shop. 

I didn't even answer, just gestured at the door as Harry ran through, grabbing his hook off the barrel and placing his sword in the barrel.

"Ye little brat!" Harry exclaimed, though it was easy to see he wasn't angry, with that goofy smile on his face.

Yea I may or may not do this to him regularly, i perked up as Uma started to swear at the tv.

I walked over to the tiny television and watched with Harry, Uma, and Gil.

"WHAT? THOSE BASTARDS GET TO GET OFF THE ISLE AND WE DON'T???" Uma screamed.

I held Harry's left hand, we just stood there watching a limo pull up to the Auradon school and there they were. A bunch of scary idiots, Mal, Evie, Carlos, and Jay. Harry knew how much I wanted to get all the kids off the Isle, but we were Uma's crew so to Uma we wanted to get off the Isle ourselves.

Harry squeezed my hand, knowing what we were seeing was really bugging me.

"Uma! Imma take {Y/N} to the beach. She's not doin good." Harry explained untying my apron and dragging me out of the shop and down to the small littered beach.

"Come on {N/N} what's wrong? I know ye don't like that they got chosen to go to Auradon but what's really botherin ya?" Harry asked me, crossing his arms over his chest. 

I stared at the ground, not saying anything. I just wanted to tell him I like as more than a friend but I'm scared.

"I just feel horrible that those jerks get to go to Auradon and you guys don't. Why can't you guys have a nice life with those goody two shoes. I mean heck there's a lot of gorgeous girls in Auradon. I mean have you seen Prince Ben's girlfriend? What was her name???" I rambled on, trying to remember Aurora's daughter's name.

Harry lifted an eyebrow but went along with it. "Audrey? Yea she's alright. I ain't really the princess type if ye haven't noticed {N/N}." Harry stated, showing off his hook.

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. Suddenly a clinking bottle drew us away. Of course Captain Hook would find us here on this spot of the beach.

"Boy! Where the hell have ye been!! And who is this pretty thing?" Hook held out his hook, brushing some of my hair back. 

I cringed and backed away, only for him to grab my wrist with his non-hook hand, rather tightly might I add.

"Where do ye think yer goin? Yer coming with me!" Hook exclaime, a VERY creepy grin on his face.

Harry grabbed his fathers hand and ripped it off my wrist, pulling me behind him and glaring at his dad.

"She's mine pops. Fuck off and be pissed somewhere else!" And as soon as those words left Harry's mouth a loud smack could be heard, followed by me gasping.

Yeah, Captain Hook bitch slapped his son across the face. "How dare you talk to me like that you lowly punk! You sir are coming with me." Hook grabbed Harry's left wrist and dragged him away. 

Harry turned back to me, mouthing ‘get back to Umas now’

I whimpered, watching helplessly as harry was dragged away by Hook ‘im sorry’

~back at Ursula's Chip Shop~

I walked back into the shop, head hung low, trying to not cry.

"Where the hell have you bee- where's Harry?" Uma asked looking around.

"His father tried to take me away, so Harry stepped in and his father slapped him and took him away, it's all my fault…" I explained, a sadness to my tone.

Uma dropped whatever she was holding. "Dammit! That bastard is an abusive fuck! {Y/N} go find some bandages, and some needle and thread. Gil, go boil some water! It is gonna be a long day." Uma ordered.

I nodded and ran towards the stalls. Stealing everything Uma asked of me. Running back towards the Chip Shop all I could think of was what was gonna happen to Harry. Is he gonna be ok? This is all my fault. If we had just stayed at the shop-

"{Y/N}! Did you find everything?" Uma exclaimed, drawing me out of my mental breakdown.

I nodded and handed her everything. She nodded in approval and placed them behind the counter in a safe place.

And so while we waited for Harry to return, I helped out Uma at the Shop. It was a rough time helping out without Harry. Mostly because grown men were hitting on me and ugh!! I just want Harry to come back safe and sound.

2 hours later~~~~

I groaned as I held my head, tired of the drunken whistles and catcalls coming from the older male customers. And yes I've been grabbed a couple of times already. My butt, my wrists, my waist… need I go on?

I slumped against the bar as Uma pushed a plate towards me, with fish and eggs and oh!

Harry came in right then, his hook on his belt, hugging his right arm. I ran to him, tears in my eyes.

"Harry!!! I'm so glad you're back!! Wait what's wrong with your arm?" I asked, about to hug him but stopped as I noticed blood dripping down to the floor from his right arm.

"Dad fucked up my arm" Harry explained, wincing as he walked over to the bar.

Uma saw Harry and ran over to him. "I swear to Poseidon, I will kill that fucker dad of yours once and for all for what he's done to you! The bastard doesn't deserve to live!" Uma raged, her shell necklace glowing from beneath her shirt, trying to unleash umas anger, but to no avail.

Uma took Harry over behind the bar counter and got out the medical supplies and, Gil and I’s help, stitched the slice on his arm back up and created a sling for his arm. Uma ordered me to take harry home and make sure the cut didn’t get infected.

I sniffed as I eyed Harry’s arm, seeing blood splotches blooming beneath the white of the sling.

“Harry?” I whispered, he hummed, wincing as he turned to look at me “why did you do that for me? Protect me from your dad? It only caused you harm” he stopped walking, stared at me for a moment, that’s when I finally noticed his face, littered with bruises and cuts, his lip busted and scabbed, a blackening eye.

“I” he started, closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, “I care about yeh lassie, I couldn’t let him do tha’ ta yeh, not on my watch”

I felt my eyes tear up. "N-no- no one has ever cared about me that much." I whispered, rubbing the tears from my {E/C} eyes.

Harry was surprised by that. "Really? Now tha' is surprisin'. Yer very special, don' ever let anyone tell ya differently." Harry stated, pulling me to his chest, I began to cry.

We stood like this for only a moment longer before people started noticing us. Harry grabbed my hand with his good one and we ran to the apartment. Ducking, jumping, squeezing past all the people in the marketplace was a task but we were both laughing by the time we got to the apartment.

I placed my palm on the door to open it, slightly wincing. But hey what can you expect from permanent scars on both of my palms, that still hurt even after a year.

Harry frowned. "Scars hurtin?" He asked me once we were inside.

"Yea. But it's alright." I smiled as I closed the door behind Harry.

"Let meh see 'em." He stated, holding out his good hand. 

I sighed and placed both of my hands in his hand. He pulled my hands up to his face and kissed them. My face turning bright red.

He smirked. "Ok lass. Now I've waited a year but I've got two questions for ye." Harry stated, sitting down on our rundown couch.

"Ok." I remarked, raising an eyebrow.

"First off. You mentioned you had an affinity for water. What do ye mean by that?" Harry asked me.

I sighed, sitting on the stool across from him. 

"Alright, guess I should expect this. When I was very young, really my entire life, my mom didn't really like me. And now that I think about it, no one in my family liked me. I never got what I wanted for my birthday. My mom kept me inside as much as possible. But when I was young, on rainy days I would sneak out to the backyard and sit on a big log that laid in the back of our backyard and would just giggle as the rain wouldn't touch me but would lightly swirl around me. Of course when my mom saw me she'd scream bloody murder and drag me back inside. Granted the minute she would grab me the rain would hit me. As I got older I learned that being "special" was not something people should know. I needed to keep it locked away. But that didn't make my relationship with my family any better. Actually 6 months before I arrived here I was kicked out of my parents house. I was only 14. I have my own small apartment. Actually, your apartment here is bigger than the one I had back on my world. And I had to lie about my age to get a job, AND I'm still in High School. So yea. Maybe coming here was the world's way of saying I needed a fresh start." I rambled on.

Harry chuckled. "Outside of this barrier is magic. And now I understand why you and Uma get along like sisters." Harry stated, leaning back.

"Har. You said you had two questions. What is the second question?" I asked, becoming curious.

"O-oh… *swallows* Well lass. Ye know I really like ye. And I was wonderin' would ye want to be meh gurl?" Harry asked, his face heating up.

I blushed but smiled, getting up and sitting next to Harry's good side. 

"I like you too harry, and yes i'll be yer gurl" I mocked his accent with a big smile on my face.

Harry smiled and leaned closer to my face. I smirked and grabbed his shirt and pulled him in for a kiss. Harry hummed into the kiss, pushing his passion into it. I felt his good hand cup my cheek. After a moment we broke apart, our breaths ragged.

I brushed his cheek with my thumb. "Well, you just had the honor of being my first kiss!" I giggled with a blush.

Harry smirkes. "Well I'm very much honored lassie~!" Harry winked at me. My face turned bright red in embarrassment.

I looked over at the cracked clock. 12:30pm.

Good thing it's saturday… wait it's thursday!

"Harry we've missed half of school. But with how hurt you are we'll skip today." I stated, standing up. Harry shrugged “eh, missing school is a good thing ‘ere remember? If every vk went to school everyday we would lose all our rep”

"I'm going to grab us some food from the mart. I'll be right back." I said smiling down at him. 

Before Harry could say anything I nicked his hook and left the apartment. Tying my bandana around my head I headed out to the market. Holding Harry's hook in my {dominant} hand.

I got to the market, scouring the stalls, I spotted a stall with semi-fresh fruit. Waiting till the owner wasn't looking, I snuck over and stole two apples, and two peaches. 

"Hey! What do you think your doing missy?" 

Shit.

I smirked, hiding the fruit in my bag and holding up the hook. 

"What did ye say?" I asked, mimicking Harry's voice.

The stall owner held up their hands. "I-I'm sorry! I didn't realize you were one of Uma's crew! Please t-take this." The owner handed me a bag of money.

I smirked. "Thank ye very much. Uma will be very happy." I thanked and left. Of course I hit a few stands too, getting eggs, fabrics, and even some potatoes that didn't look too bad.

As I walked back into the apartment I began to sing a song from my world. 

"I need another story. Something to get off my chest. My life is kind of boring. Need something that I can confess." I sing as I set the fruit in a basket that was on the cracked kitchen counter.

"'Til all my sleeves are stained red. From all the truth that I've said. Come by it honestly I swear. Thought you saw me wink, no. I've been on the brink, so." I twirled, putting the eggs in the fridge.

Harry watched me with his brow raised, clearly confused by me.

"Tell me what you want to hear! Something that will light those ears! Sick of all the insincere! So I'm gunna give all my secrets away!" I sang smiling like an idiot.

"Lass. Whatcha singin? Never hear'd that song before." Harry questioned, taking his hook back.

"Its a song from my world." I explained, something I hadn't noticed was that the gold ring around my pupils was getting bigger, slowly covering up my {E/C} eyes.

"Hmm sounds interestin'. Although I much prefer yer voice over everythin'." Harry stated, pulling me close.

I giggled. "Come on Harry. If your feeling well enough to cuddle then you can come with me while I take the money I got to Uma." I stated, holding up the bag of money.

"How'd ya get that?" 

"The stall owners saw yer hook and got scared shitless." I admitted, smiling.

Harry smirked and pulled me close, kissing my head. "I love ye so much lass!" He said into my hair.

I giggled. "Come on my pirate. Let's go see Uma." I smiled.

We left the apartment and headed for Uma's place. The Chip Shop to be exact.

As we get closer I hear singing. 

"What's my name? What's my name?" 

"Not again." I groan.

"Hmm? What's up lass?" Harry asked, curious.

"Uma's singing her what's my name song again." I explained standing outside of the shop. Harry's eyes dilated and he almost seemed like a different person.

He walked right into the shop and started singing. Great. I walked in after him. Not paying any attention to Uma, Harry, or the crew. I sat with my back facing them and ordered a plate of fish. Gil was sitting next to me, clearly too busy eating his eggs to participate in the singing. 

"Gil. Why do you eat so much eggs? Don't you get sick of them?" I asked him as my food arrived.

"No! I gotta eat lots to be like my dad!" He said with his mouth full.

I rolled my eyes, then I noticed that Gil's blonde hair was getting in his eyes. I stole a brown bandana off of a patron and handed it to him. 

"Here Gil. Use this. It'll help you match with the rest of the crew, and you'll be able to eat, walk, fight, talk, etc without having your hair in your eyes." I smiled.

Gil smiled and proceeded to tie the bandana around his head. As he did this I smiled, eating my fish.

"So how is Harry? I heard his dad did that to him. Glad my dad isn't that abusive." Gil stated. His hair looking more "piratey".

I nodded, glancing over my shoulder for a second to see Uma giving the crew commands on how to do the moves properly to her song.

"It's my fault he got hurt tho. His dad saw me and Harry protected me." I explained, sighing a bit.

I pulled on my necklace. This was something I had from my world. The only family member that cared about me was my grandma. But she died when I was 6. The necklace was from her. I never understood why the charm was important,  I can't read the engraving on it, but it was a large coin shaped charm that was smaller than the size of my palm on a sturdy string necklace.. But I don't take it off. The engraving on it was something I gave up on decoding when I was 12.

"{Y/N}?" Gil asked, getting me out of my thoughts.

"Yes Gil?" I asked.

"Why are you playing with your necklace?" He asked me with a slight tilt to his head.

"Oh. This was a gift from my grandma, she was the last person to ever actually care about me in my world. I can't understand the engraving though." I admitted, feeling the text again.

"Oh? Maybe Harry can help. He's really good at deciphering stuff." Gil stated eating another egg.

 "Oh? He never told me that." I said as I looked over at Harry and Uma who were chatting about work and stuff. "I'm not going to bother him with it though." I muttered, before looking back at Gil.

"How have you been today Gil? I haven't seen you all day." I asked, tucking my necklace back under my shirt.

"Been fine. My brothers were jerks today. I got a couple of bruises on my back from them. But I managed to get this bandanna from a stall today! Thank you for helping me!" Gil exclaimed with an innocent smile.

This child doesn't deserve to be on this wretched island.

"Your brothers' are horrible. They are just AHHHHHH--!" I screamed, gripping my head as my eyes turned golden, such a bad headache.

"{Y/N}!!" Harry exclaimed, rushing over to me. 

I groaned. "I-I'm fine. Bad headache." I groaned out, looking up at Harry.

"Yer eyes, ther' golden." Harry exclaimed, amazed.

I frowned and rubbed at my eyes. Why are they fully golden? That never happens. I groaned again and squinted up at Harry, Gil, and Uma. When did I get on the ground.

"How'd I get down here?" I asked, the headache finally disappearing.

Gil's face got closer to mine. "Her eyes are back to normal!" Gil exclaimed.

Of course more crew members started gathering around. And I became flustered.

"I-I'm f-fine." I stuttered, my face turning red from embarrassment.

"Alright everyone back to work!" Uma commanded.

[multifandomforthemostpart]

Ironstrange - Alone

Tony had never cried alone before, and he didn't like it.

—-

There had always been someone there for Tony, someone to pat his back, hold his hands and wipe away his tears. To whisper soft words of comfort, that his world would not be dark forever, sweet nothings and lies that slipped through his broken mind so fast he didn't notice. Who it had been had varied on the time and place. The main four on rotation were Pepper, Bruce, Rhodey and Peter

Yet here he was, slumped against a wall in his basement, sobbing his eyes out. Dum-E had respectfully turned away after he had shouted at him, and FRIDAY was hovering. Tony had come cascading down with a bottle of whiskey in his hand, almost smashing it against the glass. He wasn't drunk, just tipsy, but the consumption was enough to tip him into a bucket full of sadness.

But they weren't here, his four horsemen, to keep him from diving into the darkness of his mind. Pepper was on a business trip in Cali and Rhodes was in Africa doing some volunteer work with the military. Bruce was off world, hopefully with Thor somewhere, and Peter had been whisked away with Aunt May on a brief two week holiday to Australia, where they had promised each other they would have FUN and there would be no spidermanning around Sydney. Tony had packed a suit for him, though, a nanotech unit hidden in his watch, which he had been reassured by Happy that he wore consistently and was taking with him.

"Where are you?" He asked nobody. He wasn't even directing the question at anybody, because he knew where everyone was. He knew that they weren't here, and he was. He knew that he needed mending, but this time he was going to have to mend himself.

Last time he'd been trusted to mend himself, he'd ended up hurting himself more, with a particularly sharp blade in the bathroom that he could create interesting patterns with.

He let out a sob and then covered his mouth immediately.

"Sir, would you like me to contact Miss-" FRIDAY, the ever caring AI, was quick to jump onto Tony's emotions, but he wasn't up for it.

"No, no, Pepper's busy. So's Bruce, Peter and Rhodey. Don't ruin their....their time off," Tony blinked. God. When was the last time he'd had time off? Gotten away from this house, New York. For a break away. It must have been years.

Time off. It was an apt description. Pepper was working - so it wasn't 'time off' per se, but it was time off from looking after Tony and his quirks. Most people's quirks are weird habits, but Tony's are horrifying nightmares and frequent mental breakdowns due to constant panic attacks.

"Should I call 'Capsicle', then?" FRIDAY asked, and Tony's heart lurched.

"NO! No, no please. Don't call him." Tony had had trouble getting over his thing for Captain America, but him stabbing him in the chest with a shield and running off with his childhood boyfriend really drilled the nail into his head. Steve did not want him. Obviously, though, they weren't talking. It was just too awkward. Steve wasn't the kind of person to be comforting anyone with tears, yet alone Tony.

"Miss Romanoff?"

"No," Tony winced as his voice cracked. Crying to Nat, with her blatant spy face. Not a fan.

"Happy?"

"With Peter." Not that the kid knew that....

"Mr Barton?"

"No!"

FRIDAY continued to list people who she thought could be a comfort, until it was just getting ridiculous. She must be pulling random names off the Internet.

"Beyoncé?" was her latest, and Tony let out a laugh.

"Ha!" He wheezed, taking a swig of the whiskey. "Sure she'd love to help me! Anymore?"

"Of course, Sir. I think...Dumbledore."

See, the pensiveness in the AI before suggesting the name should have let him twig what was about to occur, but Tony was still obliviously tipsy and not fully aware of his AI's capabilities. She was playing an intricate game here, and it was working.

"Yes! Yes, call Dumbledore. I think he could give me some solid advice about who to kiss next. Although that childhood crush of his....messy one," Tony rambled to himself. He'd been reading a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction out of pure boredom. Peter had 'accidentally' left the movies here for him to watch, inside was a detailed list of things for him to read, titled 'Mr Stark's list of guilty pleasure reading late at night'.

"Calling Dumbledore," FRIDAY announced, and the phone noise sounded.

"Hilarious," Tony chuckled, but it kept ringing. "FRIDAY? FRIDAY Dumbledore isn't real you can't-" A flash of memory went through Tony's mind, a sudden cold, sobering effect that made him go suddenly very very panicked. "SHIT! FRIDAY! CANCEL! SHIT! CANCEL!"

But a low, sleepy voice came from over the phone. "Hello?" It seemed very unenthusiastically confused. "Stark?"

Shit. Tony had never heard Stephen's Strange's voice when it was sleepy, and he really, really liked it. This is not the time, Tony! You're getting an early onset of an attack, not fantasising over another Avenger!

"Hi," he replied sheepishly, trying desperately to mask the anxiety. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you wrong number, would you?"

"No," Stephen said smoothly, shuffling around as though he was sitting up.

"Well see, I was trying to call Dumbledore," Tony began. Okay he can't do this, he can't mask it, he's going to have to either have a panic attack over the phone or hang up really rudely. Fuck.

"How drunk are you?" Stephen asked.

"I'm not...that drunk," Tony's voice was getting slightly laboured now from breathing so oddly.

"Are you okay?" The doctor seemed genuinely concerned as to his wellbeing. "You sound like you...just did a run or something."

"No, I'm just," Tony gasped. Shit his breath was vanishing and he didn't even know WHY.

"Just?" Stephen prompted. "Stark?"

"I'll," Tony breathed, "'ave to call you back."

And he hung up the phone.

Tears spilling immediately, a bad combination, he failed to regulate his breathing. The four would often try to do it by counting with him, a technique which apparently only worked when he had others with him.

He was trying to ignore the fact that Stephen Strange was an actual Doctor and any Doctor knew basic panic attack symptoms.

Come on, Tony. Come on! One little phone call and all this harm? Can't you tell your body that this time it needs to just fix itself?!"

And then, not even a minute later, there was a warm hand on his shaking body, a comforting low tone murmuring to him. Stephen Strange, Master of the Mystic Arts, Sorcerer Supreme, Former Neurosurgeon, also one of his slightly animosity-filled relationships.

But fuck this wasn't he'd wanted the evening to go down, not at all. There was another bottle of whiskey in the alcohol fridge that he had been planning on consuming, not having to explain himself to a doctor.

"Tony," he muttered gently, and Tony jumped slightly. Hearing the wizard call him by his first name was a privilege that Tony never really got. The doctor began rubbing a hand back and forth on his shoulder as Tony's sobs wracked his body. He didn't even know why he was crying at this point, but he turned to the Sorcerer and buried his head into the man's pyjamas: he hadn't even given himself time to change out of them, which allowed for a rather hot (although blurry, from tears) bed-head look. The hair was stuck up on its ends and Tony relished in the warmth that Strange offered, snuggling in.

"Let's get you to bed," Stephen commanded, picking him up bridal style and looking at him....it wasn't a hateful look, nor exasperated, it was...tender.

FRIDAY and Tony directed Stephen to the right room and he was plonked on the bed, Stephen standing awkwardly next to it. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"The panic attacks? Um...maybe. Can you...lay here with me for the night?"

"Sure," Stephen smiled softly, clambering onto the poster bed and looking at him intently.

"I don't know why I had that one. I'm not scared of you, so maybe it was the thought of upsetting someone this late at night or, or losing you as a friend or maybe just being alone...I don't really know," Tony wasn't slurring his words, but they weren't 100% clear.

"Were you drinking tonight?" Stephen queried, a slight reprimanding mask worn on that worried face.

"Whiskey. I had....about 3/4 of a bottle. It's good stuff, of course."

"And...uh, how long has it been since you've slept?"

Tony grinned, "1."

"1 what? Hour? Day?" Yes, he supposed that would be the normal assumption.

"Month," the doctor's eyes shot up suddenly and he seemed intent on getting Tony to sleep ASAP.

"Don't make me," he warned, holding up a finger very close to the other man's face. "Please," he pouted.

"Nightmares?" Stephen persisted.

"Yup. Bane of my existence, I swear to God."

Tony found himself staring into the wizard's eyes, getting more and more enticed.

If Stephen was Dumbledore....did that make him Grindelwald? If so, did that mean he was the villain, the mass murderer? Fair, he supposed, he had done some pretty bad things. But then again, leaving a child in a neglected home wasn't something he'd done.

What was most exciting was that Stephen was staring back, into those whiskey eyes as though he was reading his soul. He probably was.

They began to gravitate closer together and Tony's cheeks flushed the further he went. Biting the bullet, he decided to just bloody kiss the man.

"Anthony," Stephen whispered when they had separated, in a voice that made him want to capture those pink lips again. Fuck. Stephen.

Wait. Didn't Stephen...have a girlfriend? Was he therefore cheating on her with him?

"Shit- Strange. Christine, your girlfriend. I-I'm sorry, that was a mistake, I apologise. I won't mention it to anyone I'm sorry." Tony panicked.

"Seriously?" Stephen looked at him pointedly. "It's like you've never interacted with me enough."

Well certainly not like this, Tony reflected as Stephen aimed for another kiss. But he wasn't sure he wanted to kiss him if he was keen of the whole thing of adultery...Tony was never a cheater, just a playboy. But if the Doc wanted to settle down...

"Stephen...I-" Tony murmured, pulling away. "I don't feel comfortable doing this with you having a girlfriend."

"Anthony Stark, I'm gay, and single, and have been for several lonely years. That kiss you saw with Christine was her one attempt at her trying to see if I loved her, which I do, but platonically. Please, for the love of God, just kiss me."

And so, they did, not declaring many feelings, just declarations that the other was so hot.

Oh and Tony did whine when Stephen pulled away, taking this circumstance to pull out all the stops, including the pouty face, but all he got was cuddles as Stephen stroked his hair to get him to sleep.

He slept, but it was plagued with tantalisingly dangerous dreams, nightmares he woke up panting from and multiple tosses and turns.

But Stephen stayed.

And maybe, just maybe, Tony thought, maybe he wouldn't be alone anymore.

[wewillwriteyou]

39 quote pls - and the boys get the wrong idea! Either deaks or Benny please

Thank you so much for the ask anon! We decided to go with the handsome Ben for this one 💗 We really hope this is what you were looking for! 🤸🏼‍♀️✌🏼🌸

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Quote [39]: "Hey, you left your bra at my place"

Warnings: probably just a bad sense of humour, some language, references to alcohol, but it's mainly FLUFF and "pure, bad comedy", so safe territory for everyone

Characters: Y/N & Ben Hardy

Word count: 1.3k

Written by: @sweetgcreature 

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Request a story from this prompt list!

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How could I forget something like that?

The voice inside your head asked again, while you kept an eye on the road and the other up in the skies; black clouds were massing among themselves, suggesting another autumnal storm. Luckily you had almost reached your destination and, with weather like that, you saved yourself from the usual traffic jam.

He's not going to say it to the others, I'm sure.

You repeated like a mantra, trying to convince yourself you were safe, away from any kind of unpleasant situation. You had already had a rough week, with the moving in into the new apartment and the work schedule you thought more than once you wouldn't have made it to the weekend.

But there you were, climbing the stairs with a bottle of white wine in your right hand ready to settle into a chill and funny evening with your favourite people in the world.

Relax, Y/N, he probably didn't say a thing. We're talking about Ben, after all! He's always so shy and reserved!

Your inner voice said one more time before you let your hand knock on Rami's apartment's door. A second later Lucy appeared in front of you and a wide smile curved her lips. After a warm hug, she invited you to follow her inside.

"You'd be surprised to know who our chef is, tonight" she giggled, taking the coat from your hands, while you were walking down the short hallway to reach the kitchen.

"Please, tell me it is not Mazzello" you joked, ensuring that you used the perfect pitched tone so that Joe could hear you even from the other room. And you weren't wrong; the scene that welcomed you in the kitchen was even funnier than expected.

Joe was cooking, or better, burning something, while Rami was shouting and gesticulating in complete panic. Gwilym in the meanwhile was laughing his ass out, abandoned on the little couch in the corner with his fingers wrapped around a cold beer.

Everyone was there. Except Ben.

Awesome! If he's not here, he hasn't said a thing! I am safe!

"We're gonna end up ordering Chinese food as always" Lucy's giggles interrupted your thoughts, as she disappeared a moment in the bedroom to leave your coat on the bed with the others. You smiled and finally entered the kitchen.

"If I knew we were setting fire to Rami's new wooden cabinet, I would have left work earlier" you announced, patting Gwilym on the shoulder before walking towards the chaotic couple struggling with the pans and the carbonized food.

"The bottle of wine is well accepted, but your sarcasm isn’t, Y/N" Joe immediately talked back with a straight face. The seriousness of the situation lasted exactly a second because as soon as you saw Rami's terrified expression you all burst out laughing.

"At this rate, the only thing we'll be able to taste will be nothing but Y/N's wine" Lucy commented, joining you and the others in the kitchen.

"What about Ben? – Gwilym suddenly questioned and you couldn't help yourself, but snap your head when his name was mentioned – Y/N? Did you text him or something?"

No, I just slept with him last night. But, despite the ambiguity, nothing serious; there's a good reason why I stayed at his place.

That's what you thought.

"Nope. Why should have I texted him?"

That's what you said.

The silence suddenly flooded in the room and all the eyes were on you. Your cheeks flushed and your heartbeat increased by the minute.

"What?" you couldn't imagine that a simple word of only four letters could cause such a wave of hilarity, but apparently you were wrong. They all started laughing.

"Oh c' mon, Y/N! It's so evident there are some vibes between you two" Rami stated, with the same tone someone uses to tell something that it's obvious.

And from there, a long, debated and animated conversation started to fill the atmosphere. You, on your side trying to disprove their theories, while they had probably already set the date for your and Ben's wedding. You felt like a boat that rows against the current and you decided it was better to give up.

You were saved from that awkward situation, when something in the pans behind Joe literally started to burn, causing a big, stinky cloud that replenished the whole kitchen. Rami almost had a mental breakdown, while Gwilym stood up at the speed of light to help Joe; you and Lucy ran towards the window and opened it immediately as little coughs were escaping from your mouths.

It was in that moment of complete chaos that someone knocked on the door. You noticed that the three men were still in panic and Lucy was trying to ventilate the whole room, trying preventing all of you to die because of a burned chicken's plume.

"I’ll check who's at the door" you suggested and quickly left the hell behind your back, already picturing a pissed neighbour ready to complain about the noise and the terrible smell that were coming from Rami's apartment.

Shit.

"Ben!" you said instead, seeing his figure as soon as you opened the door. God, he was dreamy even with a grey sweatshirt and a pair of jeans. You scrolled your head, subtly looking away from his green eyes.

"Y/N! How long" he joked, winking at you. You nervously laughed and nodded, moving a little on the side to let him enter the apartment. He immediately sniffed a strange odour and you couldn't help, but chuckle.

"Joe" that was the only thing you said, and he giggled as well.

"Got it. Don't need to know more" Ben replied, lifting his hands in the air.

The situation was rather embarrassing, as you both knew something had changed from the previous night. A thin layer of nervousness had fallen between the two of you.

Nothing had happened. Ben had simply let you stay at his place because your new apartment was full of painters and you honestly didn't want to sleep in a house that smelled like paint and solvents. But sharing the same bed and waking up together had indeed been an experience. A good experience.

Sure, if you hadn't forgotten something important at his apartment it would have been better but from the way he was acting, he looked as if he hadn't even noticed, so you started to relax.

But, as the best military generals teach, never let your guard down.

"The disaster happened in the kitchen, I suppose" Ben finally said, breaking the silence and pointing the room at the end of the hallway with his thumb.

"Good intuition" you playfully replied, inviting him to walk ahead of you. He chuckled again, but when you found yourself halfway into the corridor Ben stopped and turned around to face you.

"Hey, before I forget about it – the silence had fallen in the house, and you were ready to bet all your money that the others were listening even to the smallest part of your conversation.

Please don't say it.

- you left your bra at my place"

Aaaand … he said it.

Four heads popped up from the doorframe, all smirking to the scene before their eyes. You covered your face, all blushed and hot, with your own hands and Ben, seeing you so flustered, slowly turned around and flushed as well realizing how bad what he had just said sounded.

Judging by the expressions of your friends, you knew it would have been a long night for you and Ben.

[missmarrypotter]

Please .. move that out of my sight 🍺

Don't ask me how i got that idea i don't even know ..sorry if i disturb some of you 😅

This takes places before Hannah, Jess and Alex came to the school.

Warning: Bryce and Monty are mentioned, cursing, peein?

Field Trips. Fun time.The whole Class together. In this case Liberty high’s students. More specific, the students who failed to play sick. Getting to know each other. Bounding. Discovering the team spirit while learning existential life lessons by spending time at a greek museum. That's what it is. Or at least that's what teachers wish it would be. Actually it's more Like some sweaty Old Lady explaining history to bored, tired and grumpy Teenagers. Not the Best Day to be a teacher.

Especially with a train breakdown on the way back Home. On a Bridge. Right above some wild river. In a rather antique train. What a lucky Day. Sounds Like a Bad movie huh?!

A whole Day full of cursing, screaming, disrespectful teens and now this. Poor Mrs. Carter. She was New at Liberty. And actually she looked Like a Student herself.

Coach Rick sure knew why he got the flu today. Smart guy.

At this point everyone seemed to be relatively relaxed. Some were talking, others played or watched stuff on their phones. Praise modern technology. 

Penelopee and Monty shared a seat next to a sweet Old Lady. She smelled Like some weird Baby cream but she was really nice.

“Are You two a couple?! “ The baby cream Lady asked After they showed her some pictures of their Trip to asia. She told them she’ve never been out of the USA so both of Them decided to Show her some nice places in Thailand,Vietnam and Hawaii.

“Uhm no Miss, we are just friends. More Like brother and sister actually”, Montgomery cleared the Situation, scratching the back of his head.

Phee nodded. 

“We are very close” she added, showing the woman a picture of her, Jeff and Monty.”We three are Best friends since a long time”, she smiled. “Our other Friend - Jeff managed to stay at Home today. Lucky Bast…  Bear.”

“Oh what a lovely Group”, she giggled. “You are such lovely young people. It's nice to meet that well behaved Teenagers These days. That's really rare.” she admitted.

“Aw, that's really friendly M’am, Thank You” Phee chuckled, squeezing Monty's Hand. Somehow people always assumed Jeff or Monty were her boyfriends. One time a girl thought Monty and Jeff were a couple. They played along the whole night. Funny night out for everyone. 

Ok yeah sometimes it really looked that way. The Hand Holding. The cuddling. The hugs. Forehead Kisses. Cheek Kisses. Sleepovers. All those sweet little affections seemed Strange or even misplaced for some people. But that's just how friendship worked in their Group. Not just those three, also Zach and the rest of her friends. Even the boys held hands and kissed each others cheeks sometimes. They loved each other.  As friends. Not more. For none of Them. Besides Justin and Penelopee hooking up sometimes but that's another Story. 

“Yo, guys join us!” Justin screamed from across the train. Somehow he and Zach found an empty seat for four because the people who sat there before went to get food in another Part of the train.

“Well Miss, it was really nice to meet You, i Hope You get Home Safe”, Monty said, smiling at her. Phee stood up from Monty’s lap and waved at the elderly Lady. “Bye M’am. It was a pleasure” 

The Lady wished them luck and waved as well. What a cutie.

As they joined their friends a woman's voice came out of the speakers.

“Dear passengers. Unfortunately our journey will take another 45 minutes to continue since we are waiting for the engineer to fix our technical Problem. We are very sorry for your trouble. “

Everyone sighed. What a drag.

The train hasn’t moved since 25 minutes by now. And it was really hot in this train. Sweating people everywhere. 

“Honestly. I think i'm sweating all the way through my pants. The seat sure is soaked by now” Bryce whined from the neighbors seat.

“Thank You, no one wanted to hear that”, Mrs. Carter mumbled, rolling her eyes slightly. She was right that nobody needed this Informationen but everybody could actually relate with him at this point. The young teacher looked really stressed. She was so done with her students by now. Every third one had asked her questions about what happened and how long it would take them to get Home. How would she know?! She obviously was no sidekick otherwise she probably would have gotten the flu as well.

Everyone was fed up really bad. 

“This can't get any worse guys..” Justin sighed, using some piece of paper as Fan.

“Oh it actually can... “ Penelopee interrupted him.

Sheri and her just came back from the Toilet. Both looked Kind of tensed, clenching their jaws. 

“It's broken” Sheri explained.

“Are You shitting me!?” 

“No Justin. Why would we joke about anything Like this!?” Phee asked with a Look that could have easily killed him.

She squeezed her tights together. 

“Fucks sake, i shouldn't have drank your Coke ” she mumbled, taking back her seat next to Monty.

“That’s it guys. We are cursed” Zach said.

“Don’t say that..” Sheri begged while squeezing in between justin and Zach. She believed in things Like that.

When they were in 5th grade Sheri, Jeff, Bryce and Phee played with a ouija board once. Sheri saw spookie things that night. Probably just the neighbors cat, 20 years Old and already looking dead. But since that night she had been a little superstitious. This had happened exactly 6 years ago. What a coincident.

Justin patted her shoulder, Holding back his laughter. 

“Dear passengers. Please know that we are very sorry but the technical Problem can't be repaired right now. We need to wait for another train to drag us Home. Please take into consideration that the doors to other train compartments are out of Order as well and please stay away from the Windows,  Thank You”.

“See!?” Sheri growled.

“Fuck ..” Mrs. Carter sighed.

“Did she just …say the F word!?” Zach asked in disbelief.

“Guess she's one of us now” Bryce laughed.

Sheri and Phee would normally have laughed about something like this but their bladders threatening to explode kept them from moving any muscle.

“ Did you check the other Toilettes!?” Justin suggested.

“ Oh no we did not. How could we forget the obvious solution, idiot .. of course we did!! ” Phee scoffed sarcastically and slightly annoyed.

"Sorry .."

"Yeah so am .. because i'm going to pee all over that fucking seat any minute " she whined trying to squeeze her tights even more together. Which was almost Impossible. And this heat. Nerve wracking.

Sheri bounced her feed nervously. She looked almost as if she would cry.

Sheri and Penelopee by now sat next to each other. Not saying a word. Both just staring out of the window, holding hands as tight as they could.

Out of the sudden the train jerked forward without any warning. Half of the passengers that were standing in the halls fell over. The wagon was full of cursing, angry people. Yay.

"Dear Passengers. We are glad to inform you that our rescue train arrived and that we are now able to continue our journey." You don't say.

".. i don't know if i just pissed myself or if my panties are just soaked with sweat .." Phee noted a little annoyed. She stood up to check her seat. Just sweat. The poor seat was clean. At least as clean as those train seats are.

"No one would have noticed anyway, look at all that sweat stains everywhere and that smell .. smells like Bryce's feet after training .." mumbled a now shirtless Zach.

"Talking about him.. where did he go?" asked Sheri.

"Huh, good question .. BRYCE?!" Justin shouted through the whole train , earning a seriously fed up look from Mrs. Carter. 

"I'm here don't panic man" Bryce laughed. He looked strangely satisfied. He placed a bottle with some yellowish liquit in front of the girls.

"Little early for a beer, isn't it?" Phee asked him in disbelief.

He laughed. He almost cried from laughing. 

"Alcoholism is not that funny, honey.." 

"Uhm yes, no it's not but actually .. i peed in it. The toilets still don't flush and are quite flooded so .. yeah, here you go" he explained.

The guys were rather impressed, debating why they had not thought of it. Sheri and Phee on the other hand just stared at him with. Kind of confused, kind of disgusted.

"Uhm … no!" They both said slowly.

"Please .. move that out of my sight" Phee added.

Bryce just pulled up his shoulders as he put his Bottle of Joy away. Meanwhile the other boys all fetched themselves some bottles and rushed to the toilets.

"God i'm so glad the train is moving by now .. i'm not doing that" Sheri sighed.

The train jerked again, but not forward. The train was standing still again.

"Oh no, no no no … i told you, we are cursed" Sheri panicked. Damn Ouija board. That thing is going to burn tonight.

"Dear Passengers, we are really sorry to inform you that the train tracks ahead of us are blocked. Please stay seated until the tracks are cleaned, thank you"

"Uhrg i wish we could just climb though thode windows, there are some bushes we could use as toilets.." sheri cried out.

They looked at each other, then they looked at Mrs. Carter.

"I'm not telling if you girls don't" she said. She was so done.

The girls did not wait another second, they both squeezed themselves out of that window in the speed of light, running behind some bushes.

God that had to be the best feeling ever.

As their bladders were empty they went back to the train. 

"Huh .. how are we going to get back in now?!" Sheri asked the question of all questions.

The boys looked around.

"Well the doors still don't work.." Zach informed.

"Wait, i'm coming out there to lift you guys up .." Justin said, making his way on the outside. Good that he was there. The other boys wouldn't have fit through that very small window. 

Unfortunately things went not as planned. He did not completely fit, so the boys shoved him through. He ended up falling right on the girls who thought pulling his arms was a good idea. Turned out not.

As they managed to get off the floor they heard a sharp squeaking. The trains breaks. It was moving forward.

The boys inside looked rather helpless. They couldn't do anything.

"Don't worry, we will figure something out .." Justin Yelled as loud as he could.

Shit.

"Ok, we are going to call Jeff to pick us up and then we are going to burn this fucking witchy piece of wood" Phee said as calm as she could, watching the train vanishing behind a Mountain. Sheri seemed pleased by that.

"Sure .. but where are we ..? " Justin pointed out a not completely irrelevant matter of fact.

"Uhg .. there are some Houses let's go ask .." Sheri suggested. Such a smart girl.

Turned out they were just half an hour away from Home. Good news. Who would have thought.

As Jeff was done laughing after the Situation was explained to him, he made his way to pick his friends up. Good thing it was Friday.

Back home they had a "Ouija Board Bonfire party". Monty even handcrafted a banner. Going to school next week almost seemed relaxing after a day like that. Maybe that's what field trips are for. Making school seem like the smaller evil. Yeah, that must be it. 

I don't know if trains in America are the same as in Germany, but here you can actually climb through the windows 😂😂

[darkcherrywitch]

Behavior Exercise

Hi girls, guys and non-binary pals <3 

This is the scond fanfic i write, this one is inspired in a movie called The Road Within and hopefully my first series so please let me know if you want me to keep posting it, maybe is not as good as i think it is haha i’d really appretiate some feedback, also, english is not my first lenguage so please be nice i’m trying :( 

WARNINGS: 4k+ mentions of drugs, alcohol and mental illness. This fanfic contains sensitive topics like anorexia, OCD and drug addictions if you feel triggered by any of this topics please do not read it. 

“Nineteen, twenty, twenty one, twenty two, twenty three” You could hear Robert whispering a number for each mug whilst cleaning one per one with an anti-bacterial microfiber cloth he just bought yesterday. You take another sip of your non sugared coffee already cold keeping your gaze in your roommate who was onto an old baby blue wooden chair, his favorite, because it was easier to clean than the other ones “Twenty four, twenty five…twenty fiv-five” he stutters with a low voice almost like a secret he can only hear.  You put your mug down on the table knowing what is coming next, like every other morning, he just hated odds numbers.

“Five- twenty fiv-five” He keeps repeating walking back and forth all over the kitchen with his hand scratching his head pulling his blonde curls. “Hey, good morning” A deep British accent stops you from standing up and walking towards Robert making him stop as well. He looked at both of you just to switch his gaze feeling the pressure in the air as he continues to grab an empty plastic cup from the kitchen bar assuming he could get in trouble if he gets anywhere near the mugs shelf.

“Morning, did you have a good rest?” You greet with an awkward smile on your face. Harry moved in just a week ago so it is understandable he’s not fully used to Rob’s breakdowns as you are after nine years. You know Rob since secondary school; a catholic schoolhouse in Portlaoise where special and difficult teenagers were sent by his parents to make them better, doesn’t work pretty well if they ask you.  Robert and you shared some classes and weekly group’s therapy meetings, however, you only knew him as the schizo boy just to find out, years later, he does not suffer from schizophrenia but a severe ODC and constants paranoid episodes, it all got worst four years ago when he came home to find out his mom had left a day before the graduation  night, all she left was a note saying how sorry she was, a load of cash, a blue tuxedo he was supposed to be wearing at the dance and an empty home.

Four years ago

You lost count of how many minutes, maybe hours, you have been staring at the old pink dress your dad had bought you for tonight’s dance, it would be better if he could actually share the evening with you but it was too much to ask, you thought. It had stopped raining some hours ago but a loud splash outside your window snaps you from your deep thoughts about tonight, a rowdy cry followed the splash “SHE LEFT ME, WHY DOES EVERYBODY BLODY LEFT ME?” You ran to your window to see what was happening, and then, you saw Rob on a puddle wearing anything but his underpants and his navy blue tuxedo in his hands all covered in mud, just as him. He was  crying and screaming while Miss Gillen held him helping him for hurting himself  “MY DAD IS DEAD AND MOM HATES ME, I-I ‘AVE NO ONE, NO ONE FUCKING CARES ABOUT ME” He yelled at the sky escaping from Miss Gillen’s arms slapping mercilessly his face and pulling his blonde hair roughly.

You have spent almost a decade in that hypocrite househole where religious people pretended to know what was good and bad, and even worst, pretending they care about all of you. You knew people were lonely back there, after all, most of you were abandoned by your families, they just gave up on most of you and you were aware of that. You knew everyone there was ill, was broken and alone, new people came and then they left, some people have been taken to the hospital after a breakdown and they have never returned, it was hard to live in a place like that were you could share breakfast with someone just to wake up the next day with their bed empty and another casket full, that’s why you decided to not make any friends, carrying with other person’s problems could destroyed you just as much as losing another loved one, but when you saw him all covered in mire when just yesterday he cried in the middle of the cafeteria because he spilled a drop of tea in his pants something changed in you. You almost didn’t recognize him; it was the same guy who couldn’t even walk outside his bedroom without latex gloves, however he was there outside your room, broken and scared. He had no one and you knew that feeling.

“Rumor has it you have your own place now” You said having a sit next to him in cafeteria two days after the dance. He looked strange at you “do yo-do you eat?” He answered you sharply but those comments didn’t bother you anymore. You smiled at him taking a sip of your water bottle “so, is it true?” You insisted “‘s not mine, ‘s me mums” he mumbled cleaning the spot of the table you just removed your hand from. “But she left” you say abruptly making him look at you, finally getting some strong eye contact, he kept silence trying not to cry, you leaned closer to him and whispered “when are we escaping this hole then?”.

Now

It’s been four years since you convinced Rob to leave that place, four years since you’ve been living together in that house his mom had left for him, and four years of the only caring human interaction you both have; you take care for each other and you could say it was the first time in ages that you haven’t feel lonely.

“Could been better if I’m honest” Harry replies with a cheeky smile “Of course it could have been better, it could have been better if you just would stop yourself from snoring the whole night” Robert cuts Harry off “Did you know he goes to sleep without taking a shower? and WE have to share room it’s just unacceptable, unaccepta- unacceptable” You can see Rob’s face turning red and his eyes looking at you almost popping out at the memory of last night.

“Oh I’m sorry, did my snoring muffle that boring music you sleep with?” Harry says without looking at him as he pours some orange juice to his cup “It’s not my fault you don’t appreciate quiet music you cheap ass Mick Jagger” Robert spits roughly making Harry giggle as he decides to stop the argue blowing him a kiss. He was cheeky and irreverent and you like that, Harry was like a new specimen like a new world you wish to explore, it was something you have never seen before, neither you or Rob haven’t met anyone like Harry, you feel excited about this new experience even though now and then you feel guiltiness for making Rob go through this, you know he’s not looking forward this as much as you are, in fact since Harry is living with you Rob’s stress levels has been higher than usual.

When you left the clinic you decided come up with a plan to keep both of you sane, you knew Rob’s money it wasn’t going to last more than a few months and his disability allowance was not enough for both of you, so you decided to get a job and attend to some free therapy session at a community center near Rob’s house, and that’s how Harry came into your life.

One month ago

What it seemed like a normal summer rain predicting its end becomes a dreadful storm within minutes. You make you steps larger covering your head with your old jacked which is completely useless as you try to rush Rob who is a couple steps behind you freaking out because his boots and the bottom of his pants are all covered in mud. There’s only a couple of blocks left to the community center where both of you attend to the weekly sessions that keep yourself sort of sane. You arrive to the center soaking wet and just in time to the session, however, you spend a few minutes taking care of Rob helping him to clean himself.

Both of you take a seat in the circle in the middle of the huge cold room; the therapist, Arthur welcomes you with a big smile understanding the weather was not something you could control or change. “So now that we’re complete…” he stand up and says looking at Rob and you “Are you okay, Robert?” he asks kindly to what Rob just nods “great, now I want to start this meeting introducing our new member, he comes all the way from London so I ask you to be nice and make him feel welcome”.

You were too busy taking care of your friend and cursing at the wind that you haven’t notice the new member of the group; a tall white guy with silky curls, they seem recently wet as well even tho he doesn’t look bother about it. Your gaze travels his figure from bottom to top; he’s wearing some old used boots, a pair of blue jeans and a grey hoodie. You notice his big and strong hands as he says hi to the group with one of them; both decorated with multiple rings, It’s not until your glance meets his big emerald eyes ornamented with some bags under them that you realized you are probably staring too much, as you try to look somewhere else you see he offers a smile at you; not yet a malicious one, not yet a kindly one, it was more like something in between; a cheeky lovely but arrogant smile.

“Hi, I’m Harry, Nice to meet you all” He says briefly without taking his eyes off of you he looks at the rest of the group smiling still just to sit down again. You could hear some distant and slow claps, probably your partners are just as confused as you; most of the introductions were followed by a whole crazy story of why are they there and even some tears and breakdowns but never just a cheeky smile and a breathtaking glance. “You probably want to tell us why you’re here Harry” Arthur says looking at him.

“’kay, if you want me to” He says rubbing his palms on his thighs looking at the ground until he speaks again “…I’m a sex addict” he looks up staring challenging at Arthur chuckling. Arthur looks quite annoyed he probably knows what the newbie’s here for, you’ve shared these sessions with some sex addicts they only last two or three weeks top, but you are pretty sure he’s just joking. “Probably just another junkie” Rob speaks up louder than he expected. The whole room is filled with silence for a couple seconds even you fell Harry deep gaze on Rob “Wanna bet pretty boy? can show you”

“Harry is here because he’s trying to keep himself sober and we’re to help him, okay?” Arthur interrupts quickly “He’s new in town so if you know about some apartment available for him would be a great favor”. The rest of the session keeps going pretty normal even though you can’t focus on any of your partners, you are too confused yet intrigued about the whole new guy situation; after that interaction you can tell Rob has been tense since then, on the other side Harry seems cool about it, you were expecting him being an asshole with the rest of the group as they share their week with you, but instead he listens carefully, looking attentive to each person who stands up, he even shares some advices with them, good advices. Robs is kind of right, he is a junkie, still he is not just another junkie, there was something different about him and you want it to find out.

“Hey, so the new guy is looking for somewhere to live” You say to Rob who was cleaning the snack table of the therapy room. “There are a lot of bridges he can live under” He replies without looking at you, he was too focused stacking some water bottles carefully. You take a piece of fruit and a bottle of water as you feel Arthur Gaze on you “I was thinking he can live with us, we have a spare room” Robert stops abruptly his stacking process just to give you a perplexed look “are you seriously suggesting me to offer my house to a bloody drug addict we just literally met just because he’s hot?”

“C’mon… I never said he was hot” Rob turns his face back to the table cleaning something else you don’t even see “That’s not the point, I’m not letting a stranger sleeping under my roof”  “You let me sleep under your roof, beside, we can actually use some extra money” you say looking for the new guy in the room “and he seems fun” Robert grunts rolling his eyes at the sight of you looking for him. “Robert, Y/N, we’re about to the closure would you please join us?” Arthur says from a distance. “take it as behavior exercise” You insist Rob with a begging look with both of your hands together “I’ll think about it” He cuts the conversation walking away from you.

One week ago

You make your way into de kitchen to find Rob finishing his cleaning routine; you overslept this morning understandable after keeping yourself with almost anything but water for the last three days. “Morning babe” You said weakly to your friend as he quickly reach a chair for you to sit “Hey, I made you some breakfast” He says as he opens the fridge taking out a plate with fruit and oats “There’s no need Rob, I’m going to be late to work” You say as you try to stand up  but he grabs your arm in order to stop you from getting up, you look at his hand wrapped around your arm and look back at him in shock; his germophobia doesn’t let him have any physical interaction with other people, he never touches anybody and freaks out when somebody touches him. Is the first time in years you’ve feel his touch; even though he’s wearing latex gloves as usual you can feel the warm emanating from his big and soft hand.

“You might take care of me most of the time but I’m not stupid Y/N, I know you haven’t eaten a full meal in four days, so please, sit down and eat your breakfast” He finally releases your arm as he walks to his room to probably change his gloves. The whole situation leaves so speechless that you don’t have any other choice to do what you’ve been told. You can’t remember a time when Robert has ever touched you or at least without having a crisis, definitely your relationship has grown a lot in those couple years and now it seems like he cares about you more every day and part of you couldn’t just let him down.  

As you keep eating your meal and thinking about your relationship with Rob a knock on the door snaps you out to reality and you hear Rob rushing to the door “no, no, you can’t leave the table until you finish”. He reaches to the door and takes a big breathe before open it just to find a pair of emerald eyes looking at him “Oh Hi, nice to see you again Pretty boy” Harry says after finishing his cigarette and stepping on it “Oh it’s you, what do you want?” he asks hiding half of his body behind the door. Harry smirks and shows him the black suitcase he was holding. Robert knew what he was there for he just forgot about it when he looked into his eyes. Today is the day that Harry moves into the house; after a couple endless nights convincing Rob of letting him stay today you got yourself a new roommate.

“Oh, right, come on in, I guess” Rob says opening the door wider for Harry to come in. “Take your shoes off” Robert adds without looking at him walking towards the kitchen “Normally I only accept to take my clothes off after a couple of drinks but for you pretty b..” “We don’t use shoes inside the house, that’s the first rule, it’s not a joke” Rob cuts Harry off abruptly facing him again “Okay, take it easy they’re off” Harry says without erasing his cheeky smile of his face “I think we didn’t even say hi properly ” Harry adds offering his hand to Rob, he has heard that he’s quite special to interact with but there’s no person in the world that Harry can’t just win over, he’s irrelevant and funny and just full of natural charm, everybody likes him and he’s aware of that but there is something in Rob Harry just feels attracted to, he likes to push his buttons it’s like a challenge and he has always loved a good challenge.

Robert stares at Harry’s Hand for a moment “I don’t do that” he adds looking back into Harry’s eyes “you don’t do handshakes?” Harry replies chuckling at Rob’s weird affirmation; who doesn’t do handshakes? “I don’t touch people” Robert replies almost yelling at Harry; his face started to turn red and his breathe is getting harder to catch. Harry’s afraid maybe he went too far but it was not his intention at all, he like to mess with people but not like that. “Hey, it’s fine, hi Harry”

You rushed to finish your plate as soon as you heard Harry’s deep voice coming from the door not because you feel excited but because you’re worried about Rob’s reaction, after all they didn’t have a great first meeting. You follow their voices that lead you to the living room; Harry was wearing some regular skinnies and a black t-shirt somehow on him that simple outfit looks like the most complex combination of clothing, a bunch of tattoos covered his arms making him look cooler than the junkie you see every Friday night. Robert raising his voice makes you stop staring at your new roommate and actually talk to him.

“Hey, N/Y, morning” Harry answers with a big smile on his face, you don’t remember his skins glowing as much as it does today it is hard not to stare at him. “Are you ready to move in?” You ask nicely as Robert tries to calm down adjusting his gloves and taking deep breathes “Yep, pretty much” Harry says pointing at his suitcase. You show him the place; is not too big it’s only a small one floor house with three bedrooms but it’s a way to make him feel comfortable. As you show him around Robert starts telling him the most important rules of the house and Harry only nods at both of you.

“So this would be your room” you say finishing the house tour opening the door between Rob’s bedroom and yours “As we told you before It’s not habitable right now, we need to fix the roof and most of the walls they’re almost ruined by humidity, we were thinking maybe with the deposit and probably your first payment we can like fix it meanwhile you can share room with Robert if that’s okay with you” You say showing him where the humidity has damage the roof “Sure, it’s going to be a pleasure” Harry winks at Robert who seems bothered enough already. You can see how annoyed Rob is by this new roommate situation, however, you know if he wouldn’t agree with this he would tell you, besides somehow it seems like he’s more anxious that bothered about it; he thinks you didn’t realize but you saw him cleaning his room twice last night a strange way to say he’s excited about the next day. Maybe both of you are excited about sharing your life with someone new, someone as special as Harry seems to be, maybe it’s just attraction, maybe it’s just Harry’s aura that makes everyone go a little bit crazy about him or maybe it’s only your mind playing tricks on you but at that moment you realized something in your life is about to change drastically and you quite like that.

Now

“C’mon Y/N you have to finish it” Robert says with his elbows on the table resting his head on both of his hands, you’ve been struggling to finish your meal for almost an hour now and Robert is more than exhausted now, you can see it and you feel bad of seeing those lovely green eyes so tired because of you but you just can´t finish it. “I can´t Robert I promise” You say pouting your mouth on a failed attempt of leaving the table. Harry just appears on the kitchen and watches the scene grabbing an apple “take it as a behavior exercise” Rob adds with an exhausted voice. “Behavior exercise? what’s that? Harry asks with his mouth full of the bite he just took.

“Back in the schoolhouse we had exercises to learn how to deal with our illnesses; they made us do things to get tour limits and they just acted like nothing was happening at all” you say playing with the food on your plate. “Once they made me walk with dirty trousers for a whole day!” Robert continues giving Harry an indignant look. Robs turns back at you pushing your plate closer to you.

“Interesting” Harry responds taking the seat in front of you; he search for your gaze and looks right into your eyes getting your full attention as he usually does whenever he’s near you. “C’mon Y/N you’re better than a plate of food, are you gonna let a couple of vegetables defeat you?” the room is filled with silence as he smiles at you and leaves the kitchen making his way out to the porch. If anyone else would say that to you you would throw the plate at them with no hesitation, but the way those words left his mouth like he knew everything about yourself plus the way he looked at you just made you believe every single of them. You look back at Robert who was already falling asleep on the table and continue to finish your meal.

Once your plate is empty you help Robert to go to bed and clean your dishes as you always do. You remember Harry’s outside and decide to make him company smoking your nightly cigarette as usual. He was laying half of his body on the wooden bench of the porch. He looks so lost in his thoughts you almost feel guilty about interrupting because as soon as you step outside he turns and smiles widely at you “How was your behavior exercise?” he say probably joking or probably actually concerned you never know what his intentions are, that man was a complete enigma to you. “Beat the fuck out if it” you say quietly as you stand beside him lighting the last cigarette of the pack. He chuckles loudly in responds.

After that you just stay there enjoying the silence and the smoke coming out of both of your cigarettes; the night is particularly quiet, the stars are shinier and the wind juts take the bunch of your thoughts and concerns with it. It’s nice to spend time with someone who’s not constantly asking if you have washed your hands already or telling you how disgusting is the habit of smoking. None of you feel the need to fill the lack of conversation at that moment; you are so focused on enjoying the moment that you almost don’t realize that out of nowhere Harry decides to break the silence with a question.

“Why did you let me stay in here?” He asks with a husky voice keeping his eyes on his cigarette “Robert thinks you’re hot” you respond after a couple of seconds and even though you are looking at the sky you can feel Harry smiling at your answer. “yeah, well, I don’t blame him” he says annoyingly turning his body towards you “but I’m sure that’s not the only reason why you guys let a good-looking junkie staying at your place, and if you do I’m quite concerned, I must reckon” you face him narrowing your eyes at his smart ass answer.

“Robert and I have this weird dream of make a sheltered for people in need, people who have been abandoned by their families like us, we saw a chance on you” you say letting the smoke of you cigarette fill your lungs and letting it out. “It’s like the biggest behavior exercise you ever had then?” Harry says with an adorable voice, one you’ve never heard before “You might say” You say smiling at him just to continue enjoying the clear sky above you.

[bubbleshowerlalalala]

Longing (Byun Baekhyun)

Disclaimer: I do not own the attached picture, and please excuse any spelling or grammar mistakes.

Warning: Small mentions of alcoholism.

Pairing: Mafia!baekhyun x Surgeon!reader

Genre: Mafia au. Angst, fluff and slight smut.

Word count: 4.5K

Summary: Things with your boyfriend went askew, wanting nothing more than to see him again he came back to you in a state you dreaded more than anything.

Another day has passed without hearing from him, and with the way you both parted you couldn't help but think of the worst. After all, its been around seven months since you last saw him. The air seemed to be tight around the headquarters these days, but you couldn't show any signs of weakness as you are a very vital member in the organization.

You had just finished stitching up two members that had 'just a brothers brawl' which ended up with a broken nose and some bruises. Sometimes you think they all just liked getting bruised and scarred.

Yeri, your sweet apprentice, seemed to notice your gloom even though you didn't tell her anything, told you that she was going to hold a picnic in the west garden today since Joy and Seulgi returned from a mission recently. You dressed yourself in a plaid summer dress, you thought that wearing a cute attire might lift your spirits or keep your mind off of Baekhyun for a moment. Irene and Wendy were also joining as there weren't any threats on the system and Luna told them it was okay to take the day off.

"Come on lets go, the snacks and drinks are already there. Plus I got you you're favorite iced tea!" Yeri chirped as she linked arms with you on your way out to the garden. You chuckled and held onto her arm "You're the cutest, do you know that?" Yeri is like the little sister you never had.

Soon Irene, Joy, Seulgi and Wendy joined you together at the garden and honestly what you might have needed all this time was spending time with your friends like this. Just as Joy was telling you about what happened at the club during their mission, familiar black vans and cars started pulling up the gates of the west garden, and people you recognized started running out of the cars to help the injured get into the base. In the midst of all the yelling and running, your breathe hitched in your throat and you felt your heart drop to your stomach as you saw the one thing you dreaded most.

Baekhyun knocked out cold and drenched in blood.

The sight of his injured body drenched in blood, in the arms of a running panicked Chanyeol was going to be engraved into your mind forever. Suho came in after them yelling, "Get [Y/N]! We need her right now!" His white shirt was tainted in blood, and scattered bruises painted his face but that didn't seem to stop him from running right after Chanyeol.

The sound of your name being yelled broke you and of your trance, and you took Yeri's hand and started running into the building to the medical wing without saying anything. You had to focus on one thing right now and it was saving Baekhyun's life. The medical wing was the nearest building to the west garden gates, that's why Suho must have chosen to get the vehicles pulled over out here. There must be a significant number of injuries.

"Yeri can you take care of Suho and the others?" You asked her as you reached the medial wing and started to disinfect to get ready for Baekhyun's surgery. "Yes but you need help with Baekhyun" she insisted as she tied up her hair and started disinfecting the tools.

Sunny and Winwin came in from the entrance pushing Baekhyun on the wheeled stretcher, with Chanyeol and Suho right behind them. Krystal, Doyoung and Jeno started mending the mildly and conscious injured members along with Yeri. As Winwin pushed Baekhyun into the operations room, Suho approached you but before he could say anything you turned away.

"[Y/N]-" Suho called after you but you just went in the operations room. "Now is not the time Suho, go get treated now." Sunny told him before going into the room too. It took both Yeri and Jeno to usher Suho on one of the beds to get treated, Chanyeol just quietly followed after, but kept looking at the operations room's door. The light switched on red to indicate the operation was in session, and even though the members were in pain and the healers were treating them they were all praying for Baekhyun's recovery.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

Baekhyun woke up in the recovery room, it was really bright for his eyes as he felt super groggy but could see that there was no one else in the room but him. He felt disheartened that he didn't find you by his side when he woke up like always, but that did seem farfetched with how things were left between you. He missed you so much and he just wanted to apologise and hold you in his arms and never let go. But there was this voice that tells him that maybe you wouldn't forgive him, or that maybe you had moved on.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Sunny came into the recovery room and broke his train of dark thoughts. "Never better," he smiled but instantly regretted that as the stiches across his cheekbone burned. Sunny had a lot to say to Baekhyun but chose to stay quiet only because he's very frail and honestly, looked so sad right now. While Sunny was checking his vitals and putting in a new iv bag for him, Baekhyun broke the silence. "Where's [Y/N]?"

"Baekhyun if she wanted to talk to you, she would've stayed by your side like always." That statement stung Baekhyun's heart, he just wanted to make things right again. "I didn't want to bring it up, but [Y/N] has been so quiet since you left, she's been drinking stronger than usual too. And today after your surgery she immediately left to her room and locked herself there, just so she wouldn't breakdown in front of us."

Baekhyun looked down and sighed. "Thank you, Sunny. I'm sorry." Sunny softly smiled and gently cupped the side of his face, "It's not me who you're supposed to apologize to, Baekhyun." she said as she got up and left him alone in the recovery room.

Baekhyun leaned back and closed his eyes, he knew that the love of his life was hurting all this time and he couldn't stop her pain. What he did was wrong yes, but he didn't think the mission would take seven months. What he had in mind was a short mission, then he would come back, beg for your forgiveness and kiss you, and hopefully you would kiss him back.

But unfortunately that Baekhyun type of thought process was far from reality.

His right hand was connected to the IV, and his left was broken at the wrist plus he was sure there were bullet wounds or broken ribs to explain the chest pains he was feeling. But that wasn't going to stop him from looking for you. Gripping the IV pole for support he got his legs, leg by leg, out of the bed. He soon got into a sitting position and took a deep breathe as slowly as he could to minimize his pain. Baekhyun knew to stand up as slowly as he could so he wouldn't pass out. As he managed to stand up and go for the door, he started his way to your room and hoped your door would be unlocked as he just wanted to collapse on any bed.

Just as Baekhyun left the recovery room, he felt the strength fade from his legs. He saw Jeno on the end of the corridor, it was like an angel was sent to save him.

"Hey! Jeno! I need your help." Baekhyun almost cried out as he saw his guardian angel. His right arm was aching from supporting his body. "Baekhyun what are you doing you're supposed to be in bed!" Jeno exclaimed and opened one of the wheelchairs folded at the side. "I'm strapping you to the bed,"

"No! I have to see [Y/N], you have to take me there" he said almost too quickly as Jeno made him sit down. "Please." He added as Jeno started pushing him towards the recovery room. With that plead Jeno stopped pushing the wheel chair. "If I take you to [Y/N], will you promise that you guys are going to make up?" He asked. Baekhyun felt a little embarrassed that almost everyone in the organization, even the younger members, has news about what happened between him and [Y/N].

"Yes, I want to go and apologize to [Y/N]." Baekhyun told him seriously. With that Jeno gave him a smile that could melt ice and purify the world from pollution, and started heading out of the medical floor and to [Y/N]'s room.

Her room was surprisingly unlocked and empty, there wasn't any noise coming from her bathroom too. Jeno pushed Baekhyun inside, "Do you need anything else, Baekhyun?" He asked before leaving. "Jeno, I seriously owe you a favor. Just tell me anything you want and its yours." Baekhyun sincerely told Jeno as he slowly got off the chair while holding the IV pole for support to get on the bed. "Get well soon, Baekhyun." Jeno chuckled as he left the room and closed the door behind him.

Heart pounding in his ears, Baekhyun lied down with a groan, his head started pounding and he needed some aspirin. He roamed his eyes across the room looking for some, he did find some aspirin on her desk table, along with empty bottles of bourbon beside it.

"Fucking hell.." he sighed with a swore, he didn't really want to get up for the aspirin as he felt his eyelids get heavier. 'I'll just stay here until she comes' he thought as he lost consciousness.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

The air was tense as the older generation and high rank members of the organization gathered at the meeting table. An attack to the headquarters happened a few days ago from a rising and much smaller organization. There were fatal injuries and property destruction as it was a surprise and strategically planned attack. Most of the skilled fighters were out of the headquarters on that godforsaken day, which lead to the number of injured memebers and plant damages the organization currently suffers.

Suho was furious as he felt responsible, even though there were older members around like Leeteuk and his group. But as he was the heir to the organization, he took full responsibility. He called out an emergency meeting to all the council members from all of the branches around the region.

"They really thought they could attack us like this, on our property? Our headquarters?" Key scoffed.

Your role and rank were both high in the organization, you were one of the few surgeons in the entire organization and Suho's parents were your godparents. Your real parents passed away in an accident when you were young, and were from the older generation of this organization. Suho's parents were your godparents since you were born and took it upon themselves to treat you as their own daughter since they owe your parents their lives.

"We have to fight back. This is our territory and they thought they could take us on. To attack us when our main base was empty is cowardly and foolish. And now, they will pay." Amber declared from beside you.

Some members opposed some agreed, but they all started arguing and you stopped listening as you were thinking about checking on Baekhyun as soon as this meeting finished.

Baekhyun was one of the few fighters left to protect the headquarters from the surprise attack. He and the few other members did manage to secure the base and beat the attacking gang, but not without suffering fatal injuries. Thankfully his injuries weren't life threatening but he need a long while to recover. You just wanted to go back and check his vitals again even though you just did before coming to the council meeting.

"We are going to attack them in two weeks, they wouldn't see it coming but we need participation from all of the groups." Suho looked over Leeteuk, Key, Amber, Yunho, Hyoyeong and Taeyong.

Everyone was in favor of fighting back and you were about to raise your hand in favor too but what he said next stopped you, "Of course, all members of my group are needed with us."

"Excluding Baekhyun." You said more of a statement than a question. Suho gave you a hard look, he knew this wasn't going to be easy. You stared back at him, unwavering, and felt everyone's eyes on you two.

"I need him, [Y/N]." He said shortly, clearly he didn't want to argue with you not when he has to think of an ambush plan and sort out all of the preparations. What you were asking for wasn't unreasonable, Baekhyun was still on bed rest, he suffered many injuries including a bullet wound to his shoulder which ruptured his tendons. You needed to be there for his rehabilitating exercises and even if he didn't have fatal injuries, taking him to fight in a couple of weeks is basically murdering him.

Everyone else had left the room after sensing the tension between you and Suho. They thought preparing for their upcoming battle would be better than sticking around the council room to watch you guys fight.

"Have you seen the state of him, Suho? He'll die." You found it hard to control your breathing and walked over to where Suho was standing. "[Y/N] he's one of the best fighters in this entire organization, he has to be there." Suho spoke to you in a low voice, but you could tell he was nowhere near calm.

"He can't move his shoulder, Suho."

"Lay will be there to help him out."

You couldn't believe how stubborn he was being right now, "You know how he is, how he throws himself on the line he'll die if he fights this fight!" You're voice was raising with each word. And you were pretty sure anyone outside the room would be able to hear. "You feel responsible and guilty for what happened and I know you want to fix things, but this is insane Suho!"

"He needs to be with us!" Suho slammed his hand on the table. The sound slapped through the entire room. "God dammit, [Y/N]!" He pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away from you, if there is anything Suho hates, its fighting with you.

You stepped back and tried to even your breathing, you needed to think rationally in all of this insanity. "You won't touch him before he's healed." You turned around and left the room.

Days had passed since the meeting, and Baekhyun was well enough to leave the medical wing to stay in his room. He still couldn't do basic routines without any help as his shoulder still needed a lot of care. He still joked around with everyone else, but you knew he was frantic deep down as he wanted to prepare for the upcoming battle alongside of his group members. Suho came into Baekhyun's room later that day to get into the bottom of things. "Have you told [Y/N] that you're leaving with us?"

Baekhyun was in fact going with everyone else, when he had told you that he'll stay with you until his shoulder got better. He knew it was a douche thing to do, lying to you, but he just couldn't stay in the headquarters when everyone else is going to battle. And he thought, by the time his shoulder healed, the battle may be won without him taking part in it. And that seemed to be the worst case scenario for him even if it had meant lying to you.

"No."

"Are you serious? Baekhyun you should tell her the truth, you can't just leave her without-"

"She'll understand." Baekhyun cut him off. He was sure you'll understand, you were all mafia after all.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

You walked into your room and saw Baekhyun sleeping on your bed. You had a feeling something like this might happen as you weren't the first thing he saw when he woke up. Seeing him lying on your bed like this reminded you of the last day you saw him. He promised he would stay, but you woke up to an empty bed. You were so disappointed that he lied to you, thinking that your relationship was transparent and mature for something like that.

You wanted to kick him out of your room but his current state just broke your heart. Sitting on the side of your bed you checked his vitals, and noticed that the IV bag was empty.

Baekhyun woke up and his breathe was caught in his throat as he saw you removing the IV cord from his hand. You're as beautiful as he remembers, and you still smelled like heaven to him. He still remembers how his heart raced like a school boy whenever you passed by him and the smell of your perfume would make him think about you for days.

You still treated him like he was made of glass like always. "I missed you." He said in a raspy voice and held onto your hand. "You weren't in the recovery room when I woke up." He pouted and brought your hand to his lips. You gently took your hand back, "You were supposed to stay in the recovery room, Baekhyun." How he missed hearing his name coming out of your mouth, you couldn't imagine.

Seeing you stand up made him panic, "Wait! Don't go!" he croaked. "I know we need to talk but can't we put that on hold for a second?" He pleaded. Watching him plead in his injured state just wrenched your heart, you were just so thankful he was alive. "I was just getting the ointment," you softly told him and sat down again on the side of your bed. Gently dabbing the anti-biotic on the stitched wounds that went over his left cheekbone and the bridge of his nose. His face was really colored with bruises too.

You felt your eyes watering the more you looked at his injuries. You could barely stop the internal bleeding when he came in, if he was any moment late you wouldn't have been able to save him. "Don't cry [Y/N], I'm fine." He lifted his hand to stroke your cheek. "You saved me like you always do." He looked into your eyes. Your tongue wet your lips and you swallowed as you held onto your tears. You gently pushed his hair back out of his face, and Baekhyun closed his eyes and nuzzled into your palm.

"Please lie with me," he said with eyes closed. You were so mad at him and wanted to punch him so bad, but right now you were so grateful he was breathing in front of you. Sighing, you gently lied down next to him, and he slowly tried to put his head on your chest but you stopped him. "You have to lie on your back." You took him by his shoulders and put him back on the pile of pillows you made for him.

"But I want you to hold me," he whined a tad too loudly for an injured person. He had always been a difficult patient, but you always put up with him. You complied, and lied onto your side, facing him so he wouldn't whine anymore.

"Your hair got longer," he looked at you.

"I'm still mad at you." You stated bluntly even though you obliged to his every need. "You lied to my face, Baekhyun." Your heart ached looking at his busted form, but you still remember how it hurt to be lied to by the person you love the most. Baekhyun tried getting on his side, as much as he could, "What I did was really shitty, I'm the worst boyfriend ever [Y/N], I know, I wish I was more considerate and brave," he took a shaky breathe and held your arm, resting it over his waist. "I was really scared. I'm really sorry [Y/N]."

What you didn't know was that since you both parted, Baekhyun regretted not being open with you and telling you everything he was feeling and thinking. The amount of regret was compiling each day, and he was about to compromise their location multiple times by trying to send you apology letters. Only wishful thinking of you kissing him as soon as he came back is what kept him going. He held onto your arm and you knew he was trying to stay awake but drowsiness got the best of him. You thought about leaving but you stayed and held him as he slept.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

If you had a penny for every time you took a bullet out of your friends' bodies, you'd have enough to get your own private island. You jotted down another glass of bourbon and rested your head in your hands. The bar was empty, which was a perfect time for you to wallow in your self pity. You knew being a doctor was hard, but being your friends' private doctor and constantly seeing them in critical condition was the absolute worst.

Your late parents' only condition to comply to your wish of studying medicine was if you become the organization's private surgeon. It would be safer than working in a hospital, they insisted. They sure didn't know the mental toll that came with it. And you just couldn't help but think of the day when you wouldn't be able to save someone's life.

What would you do then? How would it feel to hold their lifeless form?

"Drinking hard tonight?" A playful voice that you very much knew broke you out of your darkest thoughts. Baekhyun sat on the stool next to you. He had just kissed you and told you that he 'really really liked you' for the first time yesterday, and even though he seemed confident, his palms were clammy on your waist. You've always thought that Baekhyun was very cute, and your heart swelled with so much happiness when he told you that he liked you too.

"Yea I couldn't sleep," you hummed.

"Well you should've come to my room," He winked and took the half full glass out of your hand. He always thought it was cute with how you gave little hints that you liked him better than the other members. Like how you gave them all plain band-aids but only gave him the band-aid with characters.

Perching his elbow on the bar, he put his warm hand on your cheek, "A frown doesn't suit your face, babe" he said tenderly. Whenever you found yourself drowning in darkness, Baekhyun always came in and brought the light to you. He got off his stool, "Come on, I'll make you tea and then we'll cuddle,"

Baekhyun helped you off the stool but you stumbled and put your arms around his neck. He swallowed as you pressed your chest against his and looked at him with half lidded eyes. You figured that you should make the most out of every moment you have as they might be the last moments you share.

"Baekhyun," your lips hovered over his, you smiled and pressed your lips onto his. You kissed his lips slowly, wanting to savor this moment forever. But Baekhyun groaned as he found it hard to take it slow and pulled you closer, if that was possible, by your waist; his strong grip caused you to gasp and that gave him an opening to dominate the kiss with his tongue. You broke the kiss with a huff, and he began kissing the side of your face until he reached a spot under your jaw and started sucking. You let out a shaky breathe as he sucked harder and his hands traveled south, gripping your ass to tease you more. He released your neck with an audible pop, and licked the tortured spot teasingly one last time.

Gripping his ruffled hair, you pulled him back to your face to kiss him again. Kissing you back strongly, he surprised you by lifting you in his arms. As you let out a surprised gasp, he giggled and nuzzled your forehead. Putting you down on one of the back sofas, he put himself between your legs, making sure one of his knees were so close to your core. Looking at you under him, lips swollen and breathless, you were the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He was truly the happiest when he was with you.

"I love you, [Y/N]." He smiled before kissing you again.

▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎°▪︎

The next few days were peaceful. Baekhyun for once didn't make things difficult for you or anyone working at the infirmary. He was so happy to have you back, he didn't want to step on your toes or upset you anymore. Afterall, he thought you would've dumped his ass. He also promised you to be completely open with you about everything, you knew that it would take time but appreciated him challenging himself like that.

Suho came in a few days ago to clear the air between you two, he brought a bouqet of lavender Hyacinths, apology flowers he called them. Of course, Suho had always been so dramatic with everything, growing up with him has been so eventful. There wasn't really anything to clear except that he knew Baekhyun lied and kept quiet. You also wished he would listen to you more and not make headstrong decisions.

You knew Suho never meant to hurt you in any way, and you had to understand that being in his position at a considerably young age is pretty tough. But happily, he told you that they 'showed the other gang who's boss' and you pretty much knew what that meant.

Baekhyun knocked at your office door even though it was open, he entered and sat on Yeri's wheeled stool and wheeled himself to your chair. "We're taking off the stitches today right?" He asked hopefully.

You smiled and rolled your eyes, day after day he whined about the stitches ruining his pretty face. "You know, I kinda like them on you," you mused as you put on your gloves and started to disinfect the scissors and tweezers. He pouted his lips and hummed as he took a close look at your desk mirror, "Huh. Maybe it makes me look tougher," he wondered. You wheeled him back to your chair by your leg, "Baby, you could never look tough your face is just too cute," you stated matter of factly, cutting the thread that sewed up his skin together.

"Yea my cute face makes you scream my name at night- AH!" He yelped as you purposefully pulled the thread quickly. "Sorry, I didn't catch that." You told him innocently.

"Ah, [Y/N]!" He whined loudly as you laughed. Honestly its been a while since you had a good and genuine laugh. Baekhyun smiled as he watched you laughing, the most beautiful sight, he thought. He rested his unbroken hand on your waist, "[Y/N], do you forgive me?" He asked seriously as he looked into your mesmerizing eyes.

You knew he learned from his mistakes as his lie had a big toll on both of you. You know that people make mistakes and learn from them to grow and become better people, and Baekhyun seemed to learn his lesson this time. Not to mention, you just loved this boy to death and couldn't bare to part with him.

"Yea,"

As soon as you replied he started attacking your face with kisses while saying I love you multiple times. He stopped as he reached your lips and lingered them over yours, as if asking for permission. You cupped his face with your gloved hands and pulled him to your lips, kissing him for the first time since he left.

You knew the days coming on weren't going to be all sunshine and rainbows, but your boy is enough sunshine and rainbows to your life.

[lottes-ocs]

one chapter (first chapter maybe? def towards the beginning though) of my story. i turned it in for a workshop in class (capped at 12 pages double spaced). a note from my workshop document:

“Since this is going to be a longer work, I will likely expand upon Adam’s personal and inner life towards the beginning, so that the breakdown and the subsequent conversation with Ezra don’t feel as sudden. I will definitely add more documents like the emails, maybe therapist’s notes or text messages, and I might play around with POV in some later chapters, however, my plan is for Adam to be the primary narrator throughout.”

also lmk if i get anything egregiously wrong. i do have ptsd myself, but i also consulted 2 of my schizophrenic friends to make sure i didn’t include any details that would conflict with that and also to get details about antipsychotics correct

tw for suicide mentions, mental illness, unreality, some graphic imagery.

[January 21st, 2019 // 9:00 AM] Since I got discharged from the hospital last month, I’ve been grateful to live alone. Granted, it makes the paranoia worse, but I’m the only one who needs to know how often I’ve tried to talk to shadows or woken up yelling at the void. And I’m the only one who needs to know that I, a 30-year-old man, have been sleeping with a nightlight. But look, when my room is completely dark, mirages of my father and Dr. Wronski appear in the corner with their faces peeled off like in an autopsy and they won’t stop apologizing. I tell them I forgive them and they double down, I offer them solace and they weep with guilt, I articulate my own guilt and they articulate what it feels like to die. Only the nightlight makes them go away. Does that all sound stupid? Sure it does, but it feels a lot less stupid when I just need some sleep after another day trying to balance crushing grief with debilitating mental illness with my normal-person job, teaching abnormal psychology. Classes have been back in session since last week, so for a week, I’ve felt like a fish teaching marine biology. Or something out of Mariana’s trench. Ezra walks into my office, looking just a little too put-together for the workday (as usual), perfectly-tailored pants, perfectly ironed shirt, and perfectly styled curls, and snaps me out of my self-pitying daze by setting down a large stack of papers on his desk next to mine. “The anxiety essays,” he says with an imperious sigh. “Was I this dumb in undergrad?” “Probably not,” I say. “You were a little older than them.” “And I actually had anxiety.” He’s made a point of bringing up his own issues since I got back. I think he’s doing it so I don’t feel embarrassed or isolated, but he does love to talk about himself regardless, and besides, the support of one grad student doesn’t outweigh the nastiness of some of the higher-ups. “Do you have any new bits, Ezra?” I try to change the subject to his comedy (he does standup on the side, and I hear he’s not bad). “Eh, nothing good. You look tired.” He brushes me off with forced nonchalance. “I’ve had plenty of work to catch up on.” There’s actually no reason that he should know why I was gone, it’s my business, but he definitely does. Everyone does. I work in the psych department, so the people here know what it means when someone’s witnessed the death of their mentor and is subsequently out for a month with no further explanation than “illness.” “Have you, uh…” he clicks his tongue in thought. “Did you drink coffee this morning?” I nod with an exasperated smile. “Well, y’know, the Keurig’s in the lounge if you need it. And I’m in 522 most of today if you need help. Catching up on work, or whatever.” He drums casually on the doorframe, shoots me finger-guns, and heads down the hall. I like Ezra. He’s my TA now, but we were both in grad school working towards our doctorates together, up until last spring, when I received mine. We’re the same age, and he’s definitely smarter than me (as he is most people), he just started college late. I think it’s very sweet of him not to be a condescending dick to me (I seem to be a popular target for condescending dicks lately) especially because Ezra can muster up a dangerous amount of condescending dickishness when he feels the need. However, I process absolutely none of what he said. I was listening, I was trying to listen anyway, but my head’s not working right, not right now. I really didn’t get enough sleep. It’s a vicious cycle. The hallucinations and intrusive thoughts keep me up, the lack of sleep worsens the severity of the hallucinations and intrusive thoughts. In fact, since I arrived at work forty-five minutes ago, I have kept a mental tally: Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab myself: 3 instances. Sudden and overwhelming urge to stab Dr. Carlisle for looking at me weird: 2 instances (fuck off, it’s not like I’m going to act on it). Sudden and overwhelming urge to break down crying: 45 instances. Rats underneath my desk: Yeah, I don’t know, I called maintenance and they told me they’re fake, so I guess they’re fake, even though I can see them. Hanging woman in the back corner of my office: Don’t mind her, she’ll be gone within the hour. I’ll be sorry to see her go, though. A sense of unreality is creeping in. I try to keep Dr. Beauchamp’s voice in my head, “if there shouldn’t be any real dead people in the room, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room.” Well, there was that one time, you asshole. No, fuck it, there are almost definitely no real dead people in the room. I reach into my briefcase, desperate for the pill bottle, because I know my thoughts are going to turn into alphabet soup if I don’t do something soon. I split a Clozaril tablet in half and swallow it hastily. I am not supposed to split it in half, and I am not supposed to take more than one dose in a span of 24 hours, and I have a Ph.D. in psychology, obviously I know I’m lowering the efficacy in the long term and increasing my risk of side effects. But at this point, let me die of agranulocytosis if that’s what I’ve got coming. I’ll be out of a job and wasting eleven years of higher education if this shit doesn’t stop. Maybe that isn’t true. It feels true. Maybe it isn’t.

[January 21st, 2019 // 1:30 PM] FROM: Dr. Raymond Carlisle TO: Dr. Adam Collins SUBJECT: Checking in.

Dr. Collins, I sincerely hope all is well. I received word that you cancelled a lecture today. I need hardly tell you that you just had a month off for Winter Break, and two weeks before that for the beginning of your hospitalization. I hardly think an even further extended reprieve from your work is fair, and if you genuinely do, that’s a conversation we need to have. To be frank, Dr. Herrmann and I feel it is irresponsible to allow someone in your condition to continue to work, in the field of psychology no less. Though I do not at all doubt the competence of our colleagues at the medical center, nor your mental facilities, I feel compelled to let you know that if your psychological state continues to cause issues with your work the department might require you to take a leave of absence. While I hope your treatment plan begins to work to its full effect soon, your own safety and the integrity of this department are top priority.

Best wishes, truly,

Dr. Raymond Carlisle Head Professor, Psychology (555) 555-5555

My hands tremble with anger (and hopefully not tardive dyskinesia) as I type my reply.

FROM: Dr. Adam Collins TO: Dr. Raymond Carlisle SUBJECT: Re: Checking In

Dr. Carlisle, all is as well as it possibly can be needs to be. I don’t respect you as a colleague and I believe your total comfort in your new position, which I need hardly remind you is Dr. Wronski’s old position, is quite frankly borderline disrespectful.  If it’s irresponsible for someone in “my condition” to continue to work then why do you give a shit if I cancel my lectures? Leave me the fuck alone or I’ll mention you by name in my suicide note.   At the moment, it is difficult for me walk by Dr. Wronski’s old office, which I have to do to get to 525 (where that lecture is held). Could I request a change of   I was having a panic attack you absolute dick how are YOU allowed to continue to work in the field of psychology when you have NO compassion My new medication has occasionally been making me sick. That issue should be resolved either way after I meet with my psychiatrist next week.

Thank you for your concern, Dr. Adam Collins Department of Psychology

[January 22nd, 2019 // 10:30 AM] I think back to our last faculty meeting, at least my last faculty meeting, in November. It does feel like a while ago, and it’s hard to fathom that Dr. Wronski was still here then. It gets easier to fathom when Dr. Carlisle comes in and takes his seat at the head of the conference table, simply because of how wrong that is. I picture her there instead, how things are supposed to be, how it should have been. I think about how someone should have helped her when they still could have. I really picture her there instead for a moment, her image replacing Carlisle’s. I blink once and she’s gone, and he’s back. As he starts talking, though, I feel a tap on my shoulder and see her behind me for a split second, ephemeral and transparent like the dots in a grid illusion, then she walks away and disappears. My whole body is left feeling cold, sharp, and jolted, as if I fell on a blade without expecting to. I’m filled with dread as I realize Carlisle’s words are simultaneously turning to nonsense and growing louder in my ears, and a high, harsh noise like microphone feedback intertwines itself with his voice. Dr. Wronski reappears in his place again, but she is lifeless this time, blood pooling from her head like it was when I found her, circling her hair in a grim halo. Her eyes are clouded with even more film, her mouth is agape, and I can feel my breathing grow rapid. I squeeze my eyes shut. I know I am in the middle of a meeting; I will not fall apart like this in the middle of a meeting, not when my “mental facilities” are already being called into question. I pinch myself, internally repeating “there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here, there are no real dead people here—” “Dr. Collins, are you with us?” Dr. Hermann’s voice pierces through my mantra, entirely unfriendly, entirely accusatory, despite the faux-sweetness she is trying to summon. “Yes.” My voice sounds thin and weak, and blood rushes to my face. I shut my eyes again, since I feel tears prickling at the corners of them. Not fucking here, Jesus Christ, not fucking here, I think to myself. Then I think again about my last meeting, the old hierarchy, the time when I fell asleep at one of these in October after a particularly long night and Dr. Wronski just pulled me aside afterwards and asked if I was okay, and if there was anything she could do. And now the image of her corpse won’t leave my head. It overwhelms me. I don’t see her in the room anymore, but I might as well be back in her office when I first found her body, the first time in my life I had ever truly hoped that I was only seeing a figment of my imagination. The gun in her hand— I try to think of anything else. Anything to keep it at bay. I click my pen repeatedly (Carlisle asks me to stop), I scratch at my wrists and pull at my skin, anything to shift my focus to anything else. Nothing is working. The lump in my throat grows. My heartbeat gets faster, my chest starts to hurt, and suddenly I can smell the blood and rot that permeated the room that night, and I am helpless to stop it— Someone grabs me. I look up to see every eye in the room on me. I can’t breathe, I can’t speak, and I realize I’m in the middle of this meeting, crying and having a full-on panic attack, surrounded by people who already think I’m a headcase. I am sobbing and shaking and unable to steady my breathing and to them it seems completely unprompted at best, and at worst, it seems like it’s because Hermann and Carlisle snapped at me. And even in the midst of my abject humiliation, the image of Dr. Wronski lying in a pool of her own blood is still in my head, still absolutely fucking killing me, and I couldn’t calm down if I tried. I get up and walk out. That’s what fucking happens when I’m forced to try to power through episodes. I could care less what Carlisle does to me right now, I will not stay in there and continue to look like an emotionally unstable baby in front of my colleagues. I go to finish up my breakdown in the privacy of my office, catching a glimpse of myself in a window on the way and hating myself even more at the sight of my own disheveled hair and bright red, tear-streaked face. I sit down and hide underneath my desk, pop another half-a-Clozaril tablet that I try not to choke back up (I’m still hyperventilating so hard I could vomit), and bury my face in my arms. “Adam?” I look up. “Ezra.” I am barely composed, still hyperventilating, swiping at my eyes furiously and futilely. I look away, and I hope maybe he’ll think I’m just sick. I expect him to walk away, pretend that he never saw me like this and just silently let it color his perception of me. But he comes and sits down next to me underneath the desk. I don’t know what to say. “Do you want me to go?” he asks, after a moment. “You don’t have to.” I don’t want to admit it, but I don’t really want him to. Nobody else is this understanding with me anymore. I keep trying to collect myself, barely noticing at first when he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do you need anything?” I shake my head, still not making eye contact. Theoretically, I’m getting the help I need, and maybe I do need the support of a friend right now too, but I don’t want to trouble him. Besides, I must look pathetic, cowering under a table and weeping, almost comically vulnerable. Hm. “Ezra,” I turn to him, finally, after a few more minutes of whimpering. I know my eyes look crazy, bloodshot to hell. “Can you take me to a mic?” “A mic?” “Yes. A standup mic. I want to see what it’s like.” “Really?” he smirks. “Yes, why not?” I can’t think of the last time I laughed, at least not genuinely. I can’t think of the last time I let myself. My self-loathing has become entirely unfunny, my psyche and my job both absolute nightmares, not to mention the actual nightmares—I need something light. Something just a little bit light. “You would… enjoy that?” “Yeah.” It makes me sad that he seems surprised, though I can’t blame him. I’ve been awfully serious, not even just for the past week or month, but probably since my dad died last spring. He reads my disappointment. “Sorry, Adam, I just… do you like comedy?” “I don’t know. My therapist laughs at my jokes sometimes.” He smiles at that, and I smile too, through dissipating tears. “Well, if you really want to, yeah. The next one is Thursday night.” I nod and take a deep breath. I realize Ezra hasn’t taken his hand off my shoulder, and he is absent-mindedly rubbing circles into my back. Maybe it’s stupid, but I stay as still as I can. I don’t want him to notice that he’s doing it and stop. “Is everyone there funny?” I ask, just to keep his focus. It’s a dumb question. I rephrase myself, “How funny is everyone?” He exhales a chuckle. “Honestly? About thirty people go up every night, sometimes more. They’re mostly shit. Don’t worry, though, there’s plenty to laugh at with the shitty ones.” He proceeds to tell me about the guys who show up high every time and just get up on stage and talk about nonsense (or weed itself) for 5 minutes, the wannabe Dangerfields and Seinfelds and Mulaneys who “never actually managed to glean what joke structure is” (though to be fair, It’s not like I have either), even the bigoted old men still trying with unflinching determination to resurrect “get back in the kitchen” jokes. I am losing myself in his stories, feeling at least marginally more relaxed, when Carlisle appears in my doorway. Ezra takes his hand off my back. Carlisle glances at us with confusion and disgust. “Dr. Collins, if you would please… get up and come see me in my office.” “We’re actually grading papers right now,” Ezra shoots back, in a tone of voice that says “yes, I think you’re stupid.” “Take a break, please,” Carlisle replies, glaring and exiting. I look hesitantly at Ezra, before getting up to follow him. “I do want to come,” I say. “To a mic.” “We’ll talk more later. I should still be here after you’re done facing the wrath of god.” I know I’m about to get chewed out to an extreme degree. Still, I can’t help but grin back at him.

[littlekidsteve]

Forever small.

(Picture is not mine. copyright where due)

Dad!Shawn Imagine.

Warning- mentions of death, VERY angst filled at the start, and pure fluffy goodness...I hope

word count-2k (Soooooo long)

A/N- this is a story based on the conversation I had with @thatkidwhodreams I’ve been reading some Dad!Shawn story and I’m softer than soft so I hope you enjoy this and as always feedback is always welcomed in this neck of the woods. Also sorry if there is any spelling or grammar mistakes.

“Mr. Mendes I am so sorry but your wife didn’t make it.“  

That was it.

He couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it. He wanted his ears to deceive him but all they did was tell him the truth, a truth he never wants to hear.

She was gone. The memories of the night before she went to labor began to flood his mind. The words they said to one and other ripped into him like a knife in the gut. He didn't mean to leave them there, he didn't mean to make his wife feel small or forgotten- he just didn't mean it. He regretted all the times he never said I love you to her but he knew that he wants to provide for them and now he knows that he will never get a chance to say sorry.

-Memory-

Shawn couldn't help the uproar he was making but after countless hours of screaming and meaningless words he felt defeated.

"I swear to god Shawn, why did you agree to it?" she screamed at him, she knew that his work meant the world to him but she didn't want to look after a new-born all on her own it was too soon. She couldn't help but think that Andrew was stupid for doing this to them both.

"Maybe I’m doing my job," she couldn't argue with that part but the next part had her red in the face,

"or maybe I need to get away from you. This gig could set us up for life" Shawn shouted.  

"Well I’m carrying life the life we made together and if you don't like it get out." She wasn't having any of it her heart was broken enough as it is.

"Fine but I’m not sure if you’re seeing the greater good of this" he left and drove off into the night by the time he got back home she was in labor.  

If only he knew this would be the last time they would be together.  

-Reality-

She was gone and there was nothing he could do to bringer her back. His eyes burned with molten hot tears and all he could do was sob, he didn't care who saw him at that very moment he couldn’t help it, the pain kept shredding the molecules in this body, time stood still nothing seemed to move as he fell harder into the void.

That’s until he heard the small whimpering of his baby girl. Her small body shuffles in the bed she slept in as she called out for her father.

He quickly wiped his eyes as he moved right to her,

"hey Bean don't cry princess, daddy is right here for you." He scoops the tiny vessel in his arms, her loud cries became small whines. His daughter was all he had left and he couldn't start to fathom what would happen if he lost her too.

Her bright brown eyes stared at her father in wonder, he was so blessed to have her in his life, tears stained his face as he held her small frame in his hands. He kept her close to his chest as she looks at him. Her hands grabbed onto his finger he felt lost in a world that wasn’t his but he now had someone to guide him out of the darkness, he had her, his little light.

"Excuse me Mr. Mendes, do you have a name for your little one?" One of the nurses shyly asked him sympathetic to the situation he was in,

"oh, uh yeah I guess" the name the tripped in the front of his mind as he pushed the tiny black ringlets out of the baby’s face  

"her name is Chantel Skylar Mendes.”

-Memory-

"Shawn our little bean still hasn’t got a name" she called Shawn from the bed room

"I thought we settled for Skylar." Shawn came into the room and placed himself beside his pregnant wife.

"No, you settled for Skylar I want to find something else just so we have a backup." Shawn couldn’t say no to his wife so they searched for hours disagreeing on every name until they crossed one.

"Huh, hey Shawn what about Chantel? It says here that it derives from French it means ‘song’." Shawn sat upwards and started to think about it his smile brighten the whole room and she couldn’t help but smile back.

"The name fits the bill" he giggles and then he levels with the swollen bump

"Hey you hear that my little bean that's your name Chantel Skylar Mendes" he placed his hand where the little one was kicking

"I think she likes a lot" nothing in the world could ruin the perfect moment.

-Reality-

The day of the funeral was the hardest thing Shawn could go through not only was he burring his wife but he was now a single father to a baby.  

Everyone filled into the church friends and family of both her and Shawn's altogether to share the grief of the loss of a beautiful soul.  

Geoff was holding little Chantel as Shawn, Brian, Matt and several others carried the dark red coffin into the church.

It was the same church they made their vows in the same church they made the promise of spending the rest of their lives together in he never expected to become a widower so soon.

As soon as the lid was open he saw her. Her body laid still, her beauty everlasting, he thought she was as beautiful as the day they both met.

-Memory-

"Shawn do you take Amira to be your lawfully wedded wife?" The minister asks

"I do."

"And Amira do you take Shawn to be your lawfully wedded husband?" The minister look at the lady expecting the same response

"well if didn’t want that I would be here" this got a laugh from the crowded church

"no no in all seriousness I do" her smile radiated pure bliss and warmth.

"well with the power vested in me I pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride" but before he could steal a sweat kiss from her she leaned into his ear and said  

"I'm having a baby so can you let the catering know to hold the champagne for me." She winked as he looked on at her his eyes filled with pride and hope. He held her tans skin next to his own as he developed her in a kiss.They were lost in the moment and they never want to find a way out. The rest of the night was spent spreading the good news and nothing could tear them apart.

-Reality-

Shawn avoid his loved ones to spend time alone. The darkness held onto him, its hand wrapped itself around him. He wouldn't be here if it wasn't for his little bean, he wouldn’t have been here at all. He sat next to the grave wondering if there will ever be a happy ending to his pain. Since Amira passed on he started to shut everyone out and no one could get in the man he was is now long gone with the wind and the days for him where only getting darker for him but he knew that his head had to be above water for Channel, he had to keep going for her.

He avoided the party altogether and he went home. As soon as he set down the carrier down Chantel began to weep. He gave her bottle, she didn't want it, he checked her dipper, not full one bit, he picked up and stroked her soft cheeks but nothing helped one bit her screams became unbearable. He wanted to call someone anyone but he wanted to do this alone.

He had to.

It all became too much for him as he started to breakdown into hysteria’

“Pl-please princess calm down help m-me out here come on, what do you want?” his voice broke into pieces as he searched frantically for the one thing that could stop this madness, his guitar.

He played a song so sweet, he started to sing about life and the meaning of love. Her cries become nothing more that a small sob. Even before she was born her father’s voice was her favourite thing in the world, her eyes began to droop low as sleep took her there and then.  

He sat there for a while, watching the infant nap, her peaceful state of mind triggered his restless one. “What am I doing? What the fuck! I really can't do this alone I'm failing her I'm alread-” before Shawn could belittle himself any further his phone began to ring, he looked at it knowing he couldn’t avoid the world any longer.

Call I.D- Tom H (work)

He began to shake as he answered it.

“Shawn?” Thomas called out for him like a hand reaching out into the wilderness

“I can't do this alone I'm so sorry for letting her down please forgive me. ” Shawn felt hopeless as he let his emotions out in one

“Letting who down?” even though he knew what the man was talking about he needs to hear it from him

“I should have never left Amira alone this would have never happened if it wasn’t for me,” Shawn tried his hardest to stop himself but it was in vain,

“now I'm letting Chantel down and I can't do this anymore please help.” there was a pause between them both. Tom spoke up and the words he said could never leave Shawn's mind.

“It was never your fault no one could have predicted that god need her back home... you're are never alone you have me and your family, your fans and your friends. I called because I just wanted you to know that everyone is hurting and we want to hurt with you please don’t shut us out because we care for you: more than you know,” Tom said

“I’ll catch the next flight available and we can talk just you and me I will see you soon, OK?”

“OK, I’ll see you soon.” With that Shawn hung up on him. He sat there thinking about the words the Brit said. He put Chan to bed and as he did he could help but think about what Tom said;

Could things get better? If only if Shawn knew.

-Time skip 7 years-

“That was Shawn Mendes with his brand-new song Forever small fun fact he wrote this song for his daughter” The radio was on full blast as the Mendes’ had their daily tea party; Shawn was covered head to toe in glitter, make up smudged all over his face, a tiara on his head, and he was wearing a fluffy pink tutu that was twelve sizes too small for him.

“Daddy, that was amazing I love it and thank you for writing it for me. Mommy would be proud,” the eight-year-old poured him some ‘tea’ as she spoke

“she would wouldn’t she my little bean.” Shawn said as he took a sip of the pretend drink

“why do you call me little bean?” she looked at the man with a questioning look.

“that what your mommy used to call you before you were born and it reminds me of her.” His heart sank a little but it rose as she smiled at him

“Do you miss mommy, daddy?” She was in as inquisitive mood he thought.

“I miss her every single day but if she didn’t sacrifice herself she wouldn’t have gave birth to you. I miss her so much it hurts me a lot but I had help from your granny and grandpa, your auntie and uncles and all my fans. Yes, I do miss mommy but she is always smiling upon us waiting for us to see her.” He couldn’t help but shed a lone tear, with everything that has happened to the duo their hearts where filled with hope and love. He always thanked the lord for Toms intervention.

“I can’t wait to meet mommy one day daddy.” Chantel ran over to Shawn a squeezed him tightly.

“Me too but not today bean because who is gonna give Spider-man his tea if we’re not here princess?” he points to the plushie that tom ironically got her when he visited her for the first time.

Her giggles filled the afternoon air, he sat there and thought about it. It did get better for him not right away but it did, the more he spoke to his loved ones or wrote a song the less the darkness consumed him whole and the more the weight was lifted of his shoulders.

He couldn’t be more grateful for his wife, even though he lost her she gave him new hope in the form of his daughter.

He once lost, now he found.

R.Tags( seeing as these are just random tags, if you want to be removed please send me a message :D)-

@thatkidwhodreams @godblesshawndaya @shawn-mendes-thirst @veronicas-littleworld@tommytheholland @flickershawn @all-stars-shining @badrepshawn @imcalledjasmijn @brooke-ainsley @bby-leee @lazysportsfanfornhl @calumhoodless @navarromarielena62 @idontknowhowtowritesosorry @you-are-incorrect @highwarlockb @desperadoegales @helpmemendes @perfectlymnds @whenyoucantchooseafuckingbias @coldluvr @girlgotattitude448 @adriqq @handsanitize @physicshawn @racheldrew9 @aboutshawn @shawnsslife @my-moon-child @cmaerson @resortsandsports @avisstar @angie1djonasgg @bookdroplets @5sos1dandaustin4ever @hegotabadreputation @queengraciella @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill  @eany-847

[galaxyrose10]

You Saved Me.

(A/N): This is an emotional imagine, based on a recent experience where I wished I had a Sweet Pea or someone to comfort me. 

Warnings: mentions of abuse, physical threats, depression, cursing, angst all the way. 

I don’t recommend to read if you are triggered or affected by any mentions of these topics.

MASTERLIST

He walked into the darkened room to find her sitting on her bed with her head buried in her knees. If it wasn’t for the singular window that occupied the wall and the luminous moonlight blaring through it, he might have never seen anything, as nobody ever did.

Slowly, the tall Serpent made his way over to his girlfriend, trying not to distress her anymore then she was. However, the eerie creaking of the floor gave him away. Hearing the noise, she snapped her head up, revealing her bloodshot, puffy eyes.

Immediately, almost instantly, he rushed over trying to stop the waterfall of tears coming from her eyes, but his efforts were to no avail as they came flowing one after another. The saddened girl was falling apart at the seams, barely seeing anything through her glossy, blurry eyes. Her voice was laced with cracks and broken whimpers and cries, making her outcries for help inaudible for her boyfriend.

After futile attempts to even stop the crying and sorrow, the gang member drew this fragile girl into his arms as a last resort, he remembered how she described his hugs as “magical” and “soothing.” He buried his head into her soft hair, taking in the scent of apples as he whispered sweet sentiments, one after another.

The embrace did dull her small whimpers, however, she was still broken on the inside. The sweet nothings that filled the empty space of her room were just like band-aids that only held on for a second.

“She threatened me again.”

His head snapped up to try and even comprehend what the hell she just said. Just discovering that someone had threatened his girl, the fucking love of his life, was enough. Hearing the word, “again”, come out of her mouth sent this Serpent over the edge.

She never told anyone, however, no one ever noticed either. She may not have bruises, yet the words pierced through her skin, sinking into her bones and into her mind, circling throughout her subconscious, causing her to doubt and reject everything about herself. Instead of a person, she saw herself as a mistake. Her mother had always yelled empty threats, some holding the potential of being real, and this was, for the girl knew what could happen.

Meeting her Sweet Pea of a boyfriend had been like a small beacon of light. He didn’t exactly improve the situation, he leveled the playing field by being himself. She loved him for this and didn’t need to subject her boyfriend to her home life. Her mother already cracked down on her more when she started dating him, exposing the truth to him would be horrific.

To think, the threat was said after a room wasn’t cleaned and a few water bottles were left. Physical violence wasn’t necessary, yet hell would rain down on (Y/N) if another one was caught in the room of nightmares.

The questions that tumbled out of his mouth made him regret asking them in the first place. The answers didn’t help a bit with the overwhelming guilt. Instead of focusing on any of that, he kept rocking her back and forth, trying to make his girlfriend feel safe again.

After what seemed like hours of silence and no progress on her condition, Sweet Pea had enough.

“You’re coming with me.”

(Y/N) shot up like a bottle rocket, protesting any effort made her boyfriend. For she was too frightened, scared, feared for her life. She feared that if she left, the only one that she loved would be taken away by her mother then she would have nothing. Sweet Pea was the only good thing in her life. Her father and mother split up, leaving (Y/N) with her mother winning full custody. Her father never contacted her and if he did, it would be for a death or major event. (Y/N) always called him, granted that he did answer, she had to call him. He never called her or came to see her out of the blue. The contact stopped when she eventually got fed up with her father’s lack of effort.

“I can’t go. She’ll kill me. I have to stay, she told me to stay in here until she got back. Sweet Pea, I want to, I just can’t. I can’t lose you, if I go with you, she will make sure that you end up in jail and that the police understand that she just “disciplined” me. I can’t let you take that risk for me. You’re all I fucking have, Sweet Pea.”

“I’m not going to let you die. I’m sorry, but I have to do this.”

She broke down once more, knowing well that she wouldn’t be able to stop a 6 foot tall Serpent who is loyal and protective as anything in the goddamn world.

In the middle of her breakdown, he picked her up and carried her to his truck. Despite her protects, he knew that this was the best thing for her. He couldn’t physically stand the fact of letting her stay in that house of horrors one more night.

The ride to the trailer park was agonizing and silent. Glancing at the girl across from him, you would expect that he could see the pain and sorrow in her eyes. However, he saw nothing. Her eyes were still the same shade of red from earlier, yet her eyes were lifeless. They held no sadness, regret, fear, or even emotion. Clicking in his mind, he realized that she’d been scared straight. She didn’t care about herself anymore, she cared about protecting the one thing she only had in her life.

Him.

The moment the trailer came into view, the fatigue hit (Y/N) like a semi. The exhausting from crying and fear finally caught up with her. Sweet Pea noticed her in her comatose like state after he stopped the truck.

He came around and carried her into the trailer, lying her down in his bed, leaving her to be for a minute. She didn’t want to come here in the first place, he thought that leaving her alone to sleep would be okay.

Eventually calming down after everything came into view, Sweet Pea crashed on the couch, only dreaming about his girlfriend’s safety to come. He was going to make that dream come true.

The storm outside scared (Y/N) awake, finding herself alone, she panicked. She didn’t realize that she was not her room, she thought something happened, and the crying started up again. Her mind was sent into a state of fear and panic, she thought he’d been hurt or suffered her mother, these thoughts only made things worse.

“Hey. She’s not here. You’re in my room, please, look at me, (Y/N). You’re safe. I’m here.”

The words comforted her mind, put herself at ease. She slowly looked up to see her lovable boyfriend in front of her, holding her shoulders, trying to stop this episode as calmly and quickly as possible.

Hearing her cries for the second time that night was something he never wanted to hear again. She sounded like someone was about to kill her. He didn’t know what to do, this was new territory, Sweet Pea had dealt with this before.

“Stay. Stay with me. Please, tomorrow, I’ll explain or whatever you want, but please, don’t leave me alone. I’m just scared, I’m scared to live in that house.”

Sweet Pea heard every crack in her voice as she even struggled to say it.

“All I want is for you to be safe and to feel safe. You don’t have to wear a mask anymore, I’m going to help you. I won’t leave either, I love you way too much for me to do that.”

“I love you too.”

Staying with (Y/N), he held her as close as possible, for fear that she’d pull away and leave and run back, thinking it was a mistake to stay.

The exhaustion found (Y/N) once more as she felt a blanket being pulled over her and a gentle kiss to her head.

“Thank you for saving me.”

[seenashwrite]

SNIPED (Part One)

Status: Complete (Part 1 of 5) Word Count: 8.4K Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit for Adult Themes including - Graphic sexual situations; Mild-to-moderate violence; Coarse language Categories: Drama; Action; Romance; Porn-with-Plot; Smut; On-the-hunt Character(s): Dean; Sam; Reader/O.C. Female; Jody; Crowley [briefly]; Alex & Claire [mentioned]; Castiel [mentioned] Pairings: Dean x Reader/OC Female [Pts. 2 & 5]; Sam x Reader/OC Female [Pt. 3] Warning(s): See “Rating” section above Author’s Note(s): Post-story Overall Summary: The Winchesters receive assistance on their case from a sniper.

                 || SNIPED Master Post ||

Dean's face warped through a variety of expressions, then ended on a frown.

"WHAT?!" he mouthed at me.

I felt my eyes narrow into a glare as I mouthed the first string of curses that came to my mind in reply, then turned back to getting lined up, prepping for the target, not bothering to gauge his reaction.

I needed to focus.

He'd bumped me, again. Which had made me jostle the rifle. Again.

Focus.

Shutting one eye, I peered through the scope, stiffening up a bit as I locked into the mindset that made me so damn good. The wind had picked up a little more, so I mentally adjusted my earlier calculations. The target had already passed nearby once, but I didn't fire; it had been too agitated, too twitchy. I needed it casual. Perhaps even distracted. So I didn't begrudge the wind - it was probably stirring up the smell of the bait that had been tossed out after its earlier pass. Which is exactly what happened. I spotted movement just barely off to the right of what I could fully visualize through the scope.

Nice little beastie. Come on over. Get lazy and complacent.

Dean was close enough for me to hear when his stomach rumbled. I didn't move a muscle. I'd had more than that distracting me in the past, god knows.

It was beginning to pass through the crosshairs. The target may have changed, but the routine remained old hat. Just another notch on the proverbial belt. And I still repeated my first instructor's mantra in my mind every time.

At the ready.

Finger on trigger.

Breathe in.

Let out.

Now squeeze.

ZIP

Right through the cricoid. It stumbled backwards, hands reaching up to grab its throat. It didn't fall, stopped only by a thick bur oak. I'd loaned Sam my other earpiece. He was on the ground, amongst the trees. His voice came through to me sharply, just a single word:

"Wait."

I held up my hand to Dean, who was poised to run from our cover to meet up with him. I met his eye and subtly shook my head. Then I chambered another round, got back on the scope.

It had steadied itself, still gripping the wound with one hand, pushing away from the tree trunk with the other, but then it fell in a heap. Dean and Sam rushed it, arriving at almost the same time. I'd kept aim while they were en route, just in case. Soon I could hear in my ear that Sam was chanting something. Then Dean was impaling it with something.

And I was pulling my earpiece out. I let it hang on my shoulder as I slid my case closer. Sooner I broke the rifle down, sooner they could take me home. When they got back over to me, they were clearly filled with relief and pride.

"Man, I thought we'd never nail it!" Dean said.

I paused, looked up and over at him slowly, raising an eyebrow.

He bothered to look a touch chagrined. "Well, I mean, you, you technically--"

"Gotcha," I replied, popping the unused round and catching it, then tossing it to Sam. There was no risk of a detonation. They weren't my normal ammo.

"Thanks," he said, sticking it in his pocket. Then he said - "I mean, for all of it. Really. We couldn't have done this without you."

"You're welcome," I told him, now rushing through the breakdown, putting the parts back in my case carefully, but at lightning speed. "Not that tough of a shot."

"Uh, well, and I'm, um," Dean was trying to get out.

I kept packing.

"You know, earlier, I'm sorry about when I--"

I looked up again. "When you winged it after I specifically asked you not to bring your gun, and then we had to track it for five miles and I had to find a different little hidey-hole, even though that other one was damn near perfect, causing me to have to use a suppressor because we were so friggin' close?" I gave him a bright smile and batted my eyelashes, then let the smile - and the attention I was giving him - pointedly melt away before I looked back down, resuming my task.

"I'm gonna go pull the car closer," Dean muttered to Sam.

I knew how hateful I'd sounded, and I didn't care. He'd pissed me off. Jody had hooked us up for a reason: they needed a sniper. And Dean's attitude had not been subtle. It was clear how he felt about needing help from an outsider, especially from one who gave them direction on the best strategy to take out something that had stumped them for months. And maybe it was also because I didn't have a dick. Wouldn't be the first time, wouldn't be the last.

"No joke, I'm seriously sorry about all that," Sam said after Dean walked away.

I was seriously sorry I'd agreed to do it on the house, as a favor for Jody. I was also seriously sorry I hadn't brought my own car. Nice as Sam was, Dean was a real pill.

Sam handed me the earpiece he'd used and I stuck it in one of the zippered pockets on the side of my pants. I followed suit, removing mine the rest of the way and stowing it as well.

"Eh, don't sweat it," I told him. "Good job going ahead and making the subsonic versions of... whatever the hell was in those."

Sam nodded, and he seemed to appreciate my praise; at least one of them was capable of accepting my expertise and following instructions. I fastened the case closed, grabbed the handle and stood, bringing it up with me.

"Mmmm," I involuntarily muttered, raising my free hand to rub the back of my neck, frowning. I hated being reminded of how old I was getting.

Sam raised his eyebrows at me in a questioning manner and reached out. I nodded and let him take the case from me. We began to walk out of the woods. One pro that came out of the new vantage point - it was a shorter hike back to the main road.

"Not used to staying in the same position like that anymore," I volunteered after we'd gone a little ways in silence. I'd gotten so bad at making conversation. Jody kept encouraging me to practice. Just like I kept my skills sharp at the range, I had to keep the people skills sharp, too, she'd told me.

I hated her sometimes, with her absolutely accurate advice.

"I can imagine," Sam replied with a little chuckle. "I know it's not the same, but these legs don't exactly fold up in tight spaces."

I nodded. I was on the tall side for a woman, but goddamn. He was a mountain. A lifetime ago, I'd have daydreamed about scaling it. 

I was still doing mini-stretches, rolling my shoulders backwards and forwards, when we arrived at the Impala. Dean, to his credit, had the trunk open and ready to stow the rifle case. And he'd gotten out bottles of water, set them on the hood. Sam was putting the case away and Dean was sipping his own bottle of water when I reached up, pulled out the two ponytail holders it had taken to wind all my hair up into a tight bun, helping it loosen and separate with my other hand as it fell.

"Ppppfffft!"

Sam looked around the trunk lid and I jerked my head, both in the direction of the front of the car.

Dean had executed a movie-quality spit-take, now wiping residual moisture from his chin. He looked to me sheepishly. I felt myself just staring.

Yeah, the old shirt with patched elbows and holes at virtually all the seams, and the bulky cargo pants worn thin at the knees, all in camo, and the bonus of scuffed black combat boots to top it all off was suuuuper hot, I thought. I turned my head away, shaking it a little in annoyance, putting the ponytail holders on my wrist. Then I looked to my other wrist, flipped it, and saw the time. I cursed under my breath for what had to have been the eight-hundredth time since this never-ending godforsaken road trip had started.

By the time they got me back to Jody's to get my car, there was no way I'd be getting home anywhere near when I'd planned to. The mission was supposed to take us about a third of the way between Jody's place and theirs. Then we'd apparently missed that... thing... somewhere outside of Omaha, and now we'd ended up closer to Kansas than South Dakota. I had been with them going on two full days, tried to sleep as we drove through the night, listened to every syllable of every classic rock song that had ever been recorded, and I was done. Done. DONE. When I looked back up, Sam had clearly read me like a book, and he extended the only olive branch he had to offer.

"I'm getting in back this time," he told me, and since I could tell he really meant it, I nodded. He then moved to open the passenger side door for me, in the same attentive manner he'd had when taking the rifle. I have no idea what look crossed my face but he apparently read it accurately as well, because he slowly backed off, instead opening his own door and climbing in.

I went closer to the car, glancing quickly to the woods around us, up and down the road, checking our perimeter.

"Go ahead, hop in," Dean said, and I blinked a few times, coming out of my daze.

I looked across the roof at him and his faintly puzzled expression. "Habit," I said, then pulled on the handle and got into the car.

When we'd reached civilization, they stopped for food. In the drive-thru, Dean asked what I wanted.

"I'm good," I said.

"I mean it. Our treat."

"No thanks." I had been staring out the window and kept on doing so, opting to ignore Jody's advice. I wasn't in the mood to try and be charming and practice being a people person. Teamwork could suck it.

Dean kept quiet til reaching the speaker. Sam said his order, then Dean said his, and then the cashier said, "Will there be anything else?"

Dean reached over, gave the side of my thigh a tap with the back of his hand, and I looked over with an involuntary crease of my forehead at the touch.

"You're sure you don't--"

Before he'd even gotten the question out, I'd unsnapped one of my pants' bigger pockets, pulling out one of those chalky, disgusting, protein-and-carbo-packed bars coated in fake chocolate. Then I reached down and picked up my nearly empty water bottle. I shook both gently with raised eyebrows and a fake, closed-lip smile on my face.

Dean Winchester had a listening problem.

Now he was almost glaring when he informed me, "That's the last of the water."

We stared at each other.

"Large of whatever's first on the list," I told him, then tossed the bar onto the dash and returned the water bottle to where it had been on the floorboard, clamped between my boots. And as I was leaning back up, I heard him say:

"Please."

I sat up poker straight and turned my head to face Dean. We stared at each other again. If he thought I'd blink first, he was sorely mistaken.

The scratchy speaker came alive. "I'm sorry sir, I didn't catch that?"

Another moment passed. Sam leaned up and craned his head out the window again, telling them what I wanted. The total was given, followed by the standard request to pull around.

We were statue-still.

"Um, Dean," Sam began.

Dean kept locked onto my eyes, steady as a rock. He was good at this. Not 1200 meter kill shot good, but good.

"We can pull up now," Sam tried again.

Take your little victory, I thought, breaking the stare, sitting back and gazing out the window once more. "Please."

Only then did Dean pull around to the window.

They were munching as we drove down the road. I hated the smell of the onions. I loved the smell of the french fries. I hated being such a stubborn mule.

"So, we have a decision to make," Dean said through a partially chewed bite of his burger.

Was he actively trying to be gross?

He thankfully swallowed before continuing. "I'm not in the mood to drive all the way back to Jody's, then have to share a bed with Sam in her guest room," Dean began.

Okay. He was talking to me.

"I think the best thing to do is head to the bunker--"

I looked to him, aghast.

"--and we've got plenty of room, we can pick up a toothbrush for you when we stop to fill up--"

Did he not notice the big black bulky thing I'd thrown in the back floorboard when they picked me up? I was never not prepared. There was already a toothbrush in my backpack. And a change of clothes.

And a Glock.

"--then we'll all be fresh daisies, get you home tomorrow. Whaddya say, Snipes?"

Oh god. He'd nicknamed me. Had my letting him win a staring contest actually infused him with enough bravado to try and make friends? Convince me to stay in what Jody had described as essentially a really large basement? I felt my lower back start to lock up from the internalized stress.

"I need to get out," I abruptly announced, trying to lean at different angles to adjust my position.

"Do you need to pee?" Dean asked.

"Do I wha... what?!" I was practically crawling up the side of the door now, planting a hand on the back of the seat, trying to lift myself, get rid of the pressure.

"I mean, you drank all that water, and I haven't seen you pee all day, and--"

My eyebrows shot up. "You're tracking my bladder?" He looked at me like I was crazy.

"Are you crazy?" Dean asked in a gruff voice, confirming my thought. But he did seem to be obeying my request - well, my edict - as he was slowing, getting into the other lane. There were several gas stations up ahead.

The Impala had barely made it into the parking space when I threw open the door and started making my way down the side of the gas station. I wanted to get close to the wall so I could brace against it. Just in case.

But damn it to hell. Ten steps in, and I knew I'd screwed myself. I'd let the stress of the trip get to me, and it had balled up right in my weak spot. Prodded to life by what was totally my fault, and now the nerve pain had already started shooting down one of my legs.

"Walk it off, walk it off," I starting chanting to myself, before I started grinding my teeth; a particularly sharp stab and boom - my left knee wobbled, and I was still nowhere near the wall. My left forearm was suddenly gripped firmly, a similar grip now snaking around my waist, keeping me upright. "Shit," I breathed out, the pain distracting me out of pushing whoever it was away.

"What is it?"

Dean.

"Pinched nerve," I answered tersely. "Old injury." I leaned forward a little, trying to encourage him to move with me. He did.

"Does this not make it--"

"No," I cut him off. "Staying in one position too long does it. I need to move."

Dean let go of my forearm, only to grab my hand and pull it up and over his head, across his shoulders. He kept a tight hold on my waist, kept moving, even hoisting me a bit so I straightened up. He was just enough taller than me that it was uncomfortable; I moved my hand to the shoulder next to me, clenching onto it like it was salvation. I was fighting hard not to yelp, but little sounds were coming from my tightly pursed lips anyway.

"If I hadn't botched things up..." Dean said, then sighed.

I was concentrating too hard to ask if he wanted me to make him feel better about my feeling awful. For fuck's sake. I tilted my head away briefly as I rolled my eyes.

Sam came up beside us at a little jog, then slowed, matching our turtle pace. "Do I need to run in and get you aspirin or something?"

"Yes," Dean said, at the same time I said, "No."

"O... okay," Sam replied in an unsure tone.

"I have something in my backpack," I managed to say to him. Then, to Dean: "Pick up the pace a little?" 

Dean nodded, and did so.

"I'll go ahead and get gas," Sam said after trailing us for a minute or so. Dean handed him the keys and Sam left us to our slow journey around the building.

I could not stop wincing, but the pain was - thankfully - scaling back from a 12 on a scale of 1-to-10, to somewhere around a really angry 9.5; Dean must've noticed.

"It letting up a little?"

I nodded. We were around the back now, passing a dumpster when I spotted a door that caught my interest. I sighed. Then I slowed, and Dean did as well, til we came to a stop. I cut my eyes over to the door.

Dean followed my look, then a slow sort-of victorious grin came over his face as he read the lettering.

BATHROOM

"Congratulations," I said flatly.

He turned that grin on me, shrugged a little, saying, "It's not that I like being right, it's that I love being right."

"I know it's a pain in the ass, but if you could lean me somewhere and go grab the key--" I began, but he cut me off as he ushered me closer to the door.

"Not a problem," Dean said, propping me against the wall, then crouching, pulling something from his inside jacket pocket. Selecting two tiny tools, maybe forty-five seconds later and he was twisting the knob, opening the door. Dean looked up at me, now practically glowing with victory.

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch upwards before I could stop them. "Well damn, MacGyver," I said.

"You should see what I can do with chewed gum, an empty toilet paper roll, a coathanger and some kerosene," he replied as he straightened up.

I allowed myself a close-lipped chuckle, which was stupid, because it rattled my body and made me grimace. Dean's face went back to concern and he reached out for me, but I waved him off, forcing myself to get off the wall, grabbing onto the doorframe to keep steady.

Turned away from him now, I heard him say - "Will you be all right... I mean, do you not need help in there?"

"Why, you looking for an excuse to get my pants off?" I shot back without thinking, and immediately squeezed my eyes closed and cringed.

"No!" Dean answered, almost at a shout.

And for whatever reason, it offended me.

I grabbed onto the sink and turned as quickly as I could, causing a minor shock of pain, but it was worth it to let a scathing glare land on his pretty, arrogant face. "Shut the fucking door." 

Dean looked a little annoyed now, but he complied; I saw his shadow. 

"And go AWAY," I told him, lurching forward, planting a hand on the door for balance, clicking the lock as an added punctuation.

For the guy with the lockpicks.

"FINE!" he hollered through the door, and I listened to his boots clomp as he walked away.

I managed to get my pants and underwear down without too much trouble, and sat, still sore but more than that, relieved to be alone. Leaning forward, I let my elbows rest on my knees. The stretch felt heavenly. But I just didn't know how much longer I could tolerate being around Dean.

Looking at the crinkles at the edges of his eyes.

Hearing his voice.

The haircut. The mannerisms. The sound of his laugh.

It wasn't exactly the same, not at all really, but something about the overall effect... it was throwing me for a loop. Lots of loops. Consecutive lines of loops. I pulled my phone from my pocket, turned it on. A text was waiting from Jody: Let me know when it's done, I don't care what time, I want to hear you're safe. It only rang twice before I heard her voice.

Which is what made my eyes fill.

"Hey girlie, what's shaking?"

"Hey."

"Oh god, what did they do?"

One word. She knew me well, and she clearly knew them well. I snickered at Jody's dry tone. But the tears began to spill over on their own.

I wasn't crying really, they were just... an automatic bodily response, part of the package that came with the memories. Which is why I made it a point not to remember. Unless it was shoved in my face for days on end in a cramped car, then for hours in a makeshift sniper perch. I was tough, sure. But the universe was boning me. Hard. When I didn't reply right away, the silence followed by a sniffle, Jody spoke again.

"I wondered if I had imagined it, but I didn't, did I?" she asked me gently.

"Ah, no," I said with a little laugh, ripping off some toilet paper and blotting my wet cheeks. "No ma'am, you most certainly did not."

Jody sighed. "Oh, crap. What I'd give to be able to zap down there and zap you back home with me. Bundle you up with me and the girls, have a good old fashioned slumber party."

I smiled. That sounded like a real special level of hell. But I loved her for the sentiment. Then I looked down at my left hand. "It's still so weird. That groove being gone," I told her.

And of course, being Jody, she knew exactly what I was talking about. Just like she'd known, unlike my former co-workers or friends of my mother's, that trying to set me up on blind dates was the wrong move. Just like she'd known stupid platitudes like Time heals all wounds and It is better to have loved and lost, blah-blah-bullshit were lost on me. How she'd rescued me from countless, pointless interviews where I'd just be asked about my previous employment - she'd just hired me, plain and simple. Which allowed me to get the next job, which allowed me to have my current job, freelancing, mostly as an instructor for baby-faced private security recruits. Mostly.

I kept staring down at where the missing line would've been. It had started a retreat within a few weeks of taking off the ring. I'd thought that divot would be there til the grave. It only took four months for me to kill the sentimentality. That's what I did, killing efficiently. I had to get busy. Everything else went quicker - all his possessions, save the guns and associated tactical sundry, which were for need, not want. But seeing my wedding band constantly would stop me. Stop my progress. Removing it had still been the last step.

I tuned back in.

"Five years'll do that," Jody was saying to me softly. "Time just makes things fade. They don't really ever go away."

I knew. And I knew she knew, too. We'd been in the trench together, miles and years apart, but we were with each other on those days, hers and mine.

I sighed, shook myself out of it, brushed the last of the tears from under my eyes. Grabbing a wad of toilet paper, I wiped myself quickly, then leaned over, clutching my underwear with my free hand and ever-so-slowly eased up from the toilet, bringing them with me. No way was I going to stand up before I did it. I'd be damned if I let any part of my bare ass hit a roadside gas station's bathroom wall.

"Next time I see you, I want a little cheese to go with my whine," I told her, hoping she'd take the hint and let the mood change.

Of course she did. "So where are you now, Annie Oakley? What's the plan?"

I glanced down my body. "Currently my pants are around my ankles in a random bathroom just south of East Bumfuck, Nebraska."

A pause. "Copy that."

"And I'm formulating what maneuvers to employ to get them on before I get stuck in that loud-ass car again, heading in the direction of not you."

I could practically hear Jody roll her eyes. "They want you to just stay the night, don't they? Get back on the road tomorrow?"

"Yup."

Another pause. "What are you going to do?"

I thought this over, but only for a moment. I set my jaw. I squatted through another jolt of pain, then shot back up, yanking my pants all the way back to my waist. "Well, I figure since I just got my big girl panties back on, I'm headed to a Kansas bunker."

"Call me first thing tomorrow," Jody ordered, no room for discussion.

"Ten-four." Then, in a very un-me moment: "I love you, Jo."

"Love you back."

We hung up, and after I took a moment to button and zip, wash my hands and wipe my face with a damp paper towel, I was ready. The paper towel ball sailed over, going cleanly into the trash can. Nothing but net. If I believed in signs, then weak as that would've been, I'd have taken it. Most of the major kinks in my back seemed to be out, thanks in large part to Jody taking some of the weight off of it, but I still wanted to be sure, so I was moving very carefully and deliberately.

Dean was outside waiting, far down the wall, standing almost at the next corner of the building. He was leaning with his shoulder against the bricks, hands in pockets, toeing at gravel with the tip of a boot.

Stop it, I told myself. Lots of guys lean like that. It's not the same. It's not like him. Dean is not like him. He looked up when he heard the door, and I made myself stay neutral. No looking away, no friendly looks, no bitchy looks. Just keep it simple. Keep it simple. Keep it----

At my side now, Dean reached over, taking my hand and repeating the earlier routine, putting my arm back and up to grab his shoulder, wrapping his around my waist. We'd been in the woods for how long? And he still smelled good. The bastard.

Dean didn't speak, and neither did I, but I noticed him noticing my necklace; it had apparently slipped out from the collar of my shirt when I had leaned over as I talked to Jody. I knew I shouldn't have worn it into the woods, I knew it, I knew it.

I reached up and quickly stuffed the chain - and what hung from it - back into my shirt.

Dean looked straight ahead again, walking beside me without a word. It was... nice. The quiet. That he didn't feel the need to fill the space with stupid conversation, in spite of what I'd assessed to be a loud-mouthed nature. Maybe I'd figured him all wrong.

The car seemed miles away, now pulled up to the farthest pump from us, Sam standing beside it, filling it with gas.

"I, uh... I talked to Jody," I offered.

Dean didn't respond.

"I'm cool with staying at... coming back to..."

I saw him look over at me out of the corner of my eye.

"I just... probably a good idea for me to stretch out in the back seat," I finished. I glanced over at him briefly. "You know, for the rest of the drive."

Dean stayed silent; so I finally looked over at him, and found he was still looking at me.

"You're really hurting, aren't you?"

It took me aback. Something about the way he said it... I couldn't put my finger on it. But something was behind the question. I wasn't imagining it. I looked back at him for a moment, holding the gaze. "Yeah," I answered quietly.

A curt nod, then he returned to looking straight ahead, and I did the same. Neither of us spoke til we got to the car, where Sam was just finishing up.

"Feel better?" he asked me.

I shot him a little smile. "Nope." His hopeful face fell. I smiled a little wider at that reaction. Bless his long-legged heart. "I'm kidding. Yes, much. And, bonus - you get the front seat again."

Sam smiled back.

"Hang on," Dean told me as he released my waist, guiding me to a lean against the side of the back end of the car. He dropped into a squat, reaching out, moving the cuff of one of my pant legs up, tucking a little in the boot below it. Then he started untying the laces, loosening them all the way down before moving on to the other one. "Okay," he said when he finished, standing and opening the back door. He extended his arms in my direction, made a Come on motion with his hands.

I took them. They were so strong. Rough, calloused palms with soft, thick fingers.

I planned to drug myself to sleep. I wasn't going to make it. But no, uuuuggghh, I couldn't - the good stuff was at home. I'd only packed anti-inflammatories. That wouldn't do jack.

It's not Dean's fault, I kept telling myself. I was trying to be logical - he knew nothing about my life, I'd been such a bitch he had no reason to give a shit about my life... I needed to get hold of myself. I was a grown woman acting like a child. He was looking out for me despite how I'd behaved, and he didn't deserve to be treated poorly.

Period.

After easing into a lying position, I let out a moan of relief. Dean had taken a knee beside the open door while he'd removed my boots and helped me lift my legs up, so I could have my knees bent, socked feet planted by my ass, flattening my back into what I had to admit to myself was a seat padded to just the exact firmness I'd needed. Dean chuckled when he heard me. He placed my boots side-by-side in the floorboard. I watched as one after the other, he brought the long laces together, tied them in a quick slipknot so they wouldn't tangle, then dropped them behind the tongues, letting them dangle inside.

Fuck him for being thoughtful.

"Nice," he commented when he was done, grinning a bit, still on his knee and leaning in, now pointing to my socks.

I couldn't remember which I'd chosen. I had amassed a pretty decent collection in a short amount of time. Chalk it up to years of standard issue thick wickable boring ones. "Ah... let's see... I remember the colors were bright... neon stripes? Or polka dots?" I asked him, tilting my head a bit to see around my knees so I could look at him.

"Cookie Monster," he replied, glancing from them to me.

"Darn it," I said with a quick snap of my fingers and a bit of a grin of my own. "Not even close."

I was trying, dammit. And I wish I hadn't, as his grin faded, keeping his eyes locked on mine for just a beat too long. I felt my curved lips fall back to normal, too. I was telling myself to turn my head away, look down, something, but my body wasn't listening. Could be I wasn't telling it loudly enough anymore. But I didn't have time to decide, because just then Sam had returned from paying and Dean stood, closing the door near my feet.

"Here," I heard Sam say, then saw through the window that he was holding out the keys to Dean.

"Nah, I'm sick of driving for now, you take over." And with that, Dean opened the passenger door on the same side, climbing in.

I turned my head to face the back of the seat. He had a clear line of sight to me, now that he wasn't at the wheel and my head was behind the driver's side. I heard crunching and crinkling and shuffling. Sam opened the door.

"Throw this crap out," Dean told him, and I heard the front seat squeak as he leaned across to the driver's side door, apparently handing him the bunched-up food bag based on Sam's response.

"You don't want the rest of the fries?" Sam asked from outside.

Dean didn't respond right away. He was looking at me. I knew he was looking at me. I'd have bet my life... okay, not my life, maybe Jody's kids' lives. But I was very, very sure. I closed my eyes.

"Dean?" Sam prompted.

Another squeak of the seat.

"No," Dean said in a low, almost pouty, tone.

It could've been my imagination, but Sam's driving seemed less... well, less everything. Less bumps, less screeching up to stops, and his music choices weren't my taste - really weren't my taste - yet he seemed so considerate of my presence in the back seat, not blasting it through the speakers or cranking the bass.

Dean hadn't looked at me or spoken to me in hours. The two of them had hardly spoken in at least one. I had been absently fingering my necklace and looking out the back window at the smattering of stars flying by when I got that feeling again. That I was being watched.

I turned my head.

Dean was facing backwards, one arm slung across the back of the front seat. He caught my eye, then stared at my fingers, at the gold bands I kept running them around, then through, then out, then starting over. It was a habit I'd developed, triggered by late nights. When I'd startle myself awake.

Upshot of sleep deprivation: apathy. And so I let my eyes bore holes through him til he looked up from studying the necklace. Dean tilted his chin towards it, giving it another glance before meeting my eyes again. I raised an eyebrow, because tough shit. Grow up. Verbalize.

He blinked, but after a brief glance downwards, looked back to me and spoke softly. "You were married."

I kept staring, kept my thumb inside the largest band, kept running my index finger over it, pressing it into my skin. "Indeed," I replied. Dean didn't say anything to that; so I did. "Why?"

"Why?" he repeated, then shrugged. "I just saw the rings and--"

"Could've been my parents' rings. Maybe they're dead and I'm super sentimental."

Now a series of blinks, a couple of facial expressions, opening and closing his mouth a few times, debating how to respond. I sighed. Then I sat myself up. And then I let him off the hook.

"Jody told me you asked her for a background check," I informed him. "I told her she could go ahead, I didn't mind. So... I ask again: Why?"

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, and it was genuine; he didn't know what I was driving at.

"I assume her word was good enough as far as my skills went. And she told you I was aware of the bumps in the night. That's the why - why a formal background check?"

Dean and Sam glanced at each other, the brothers sharing a look that, even though I couldn't see it clearly, just made me more determined to press.

"We, um... I mean, we did a basic one on your name, um... there were these sealed records," Sam began, not seeming to know how to construct an actual sentence.

Dean fessed up. "We thought maybe Jody would be able to tell us more."

"Uh-huh," I replied in a slightly sing-song voice. Please. They were not the first near-strangers to bring this up to me. They could get in line. Several moments of silence. I had glanced in the rear view mirror to look at Sam when he'd spoken, and he'd immediately looked away after catching my eye. "Okay, I'll go now," I announced, and felt that snot-faced brat inside me push the grown woman out of the way and step up to the plate. "Astute as you are, I bet you noticed that around the dates on those sealed records, I got to bury my husband."

Pin-drop silence in the car.

"Those records are the investigation into his death - see, it happened on the job. And FBI-SWAT doesn't like word getting around of head cases within their ranks."

Dean's brow creased ever-so-slightly as he processed.

"Me," I clarified, pointing to myself. "I'm talking about me."

"I didn't mean to--" Dean began quietly, but I cut him off in my self-protective, snarky, overly chipper tone.

"No, no! This is good practice. I've only told this story to two people: the investigatory psychiatrist and Jody. The former labelled me with lots of multi-syllable words which ended up getting me off the hook for homicide."

Dean's sharp intake of air was audible.

There ya go Sherlock, I thought. Make them connections.

"And Jody, well, Jody and I have known each other since the academy. She knew something crazy happened - not, you know, crazy-crazy," I specified, spinning a finger near my head. "She knew this was way outside my norm. So one night after drinking roughly her entire liquor cabinet, I told her what I'm about to tell you!"

Dean was rapidly growing more tense by the second, so many lines in his creased forehead, jaw clamped, posture stiff. But I've never met a tense situation I didn't like meeting head-on.

"It was one of our last missions together, me and hubby. Not cool to have married people on the same unit, so he was transferring to a nice, safe desk job the next week.

"We - that is, my team and I, which included my partner on the op, who had recently become my husband - breached into what we understood to be a hostile situation. He and I went to our pre-planned area to sweep and clear.

"I got to go first into this big, wide-open, warehouse-type area, because I was the one with the shield. Lots of boxes and crates for scary people to hide behind. Not. Terribly. Ideal."

I had leaned up a bit, tapped a finger against Dean's forearm to emphasize those last three words.

Tap.

Tap.

Tap.

I flopped back against my seat again. "Then I saw smoke - I thought maybe a hidden creeper had tossed out a smoke grenade to blind us. But it was this thin, snake-like thing that wove its way through the air, shot right over my head, and what do you think happened next, Dean?"

A nervous half-smile washed over his face. "Hey, uh, look, Snipes, we really don't have to--"

I plowed on. "Well! I got kicked in the back so hard, it crushed bone - coulda severed my spinal cord, they said. The hospital chaplain called me blessed."

"Just--"

"And I flipped end over end, which, I tell ya, never did gymnastics as a kid, and it did not inspire me to take it up."

"Why don't you--"

"But I was a finely tuned machine back then, Dean, I mean, that shit today? Whatever. You could've handicapped me by a rainstorm, a hundred more yards and two of that thing's buddies."

Dean swallowed, and points for effort, kept opening his mouth to try to interrupt me.

"It was just second nature for me to get the shield back up. It didn't register for me that it was him - the love of my life - who'd kicked me so hard I was starting to lose feeling in the lower half of my body. It didn't register til he was coming towards me with this sick smile on his face - cause he'd thrown off his tactical helmet by that point, you know, so he could see me suffer up close."

I was sitting up as I spoke, slowly edging forward with each word. Now Dean shut his mouth completely, almost looking like he was going to reach for me - what, to comfort me? Because this could be comforted? Fuck that.

"And he proceeded to unload every round he had into that shield, and the closer he got, well, let's just say those shields don't hold up like you want 'em to when it gets personal," I continued, and though I kept my tone as facetious as possible, those goddamn tears started welling up again. "I heard boots pounding above us, knew at least part of our team was headed towards the gunfire. He heard it, too; I know, because he stopped before he put the next mag into his gun to get out an actual smoke grenade - you know, what that other thing wasn't, but I bet you've guessed by now where this is going."

Dean kept his eyes locked on mine.

"He started chucking smokes and flash-bangs one after the other, back at the door, into the hallway, and I thought that was so weird - til it occurred to me it wasn't to buy him time, to keep them from saving me, I was going to be dead in a second; it was so he could get the drop on them."

I leaned in close to Dean, and when he started to back away slightly, I shot my arm forward, grasped him with my left hand by the nape of his neck, came in real, real close.

"And when he turned back, I'd already tossed the shield away, raised my gun, saw him looking right through me with those fucked up shark eyes--" I raised my right hand, just my index and middle finger extended "--and didn't flinch when I put a bullet right between 'em."  I pressed the fingers firmly above Dean's nose, directly onto the exact point where I'd fired five years ago, into the man he reminded me of every second of every minute of every hour I'd been in his presence. "Found out later that was pretty goddamn smart: hard for a demon to use a host, alive or dead, that's had chunks of brain matter blown out. Body just won't do right, you know?" I let go of his neck and pulled my fingers away, but he didn't move.

I heard Sam gulp audibly.

Then I heard my voice go all soft, though I didn't mean for it to. "It was in slow-motion. Watching him die. I thought I could actually see the bullet spinning forward. I know I saw, right as it pierced his skin, I know I saw that snake of smoke start coming out of his mouth, pretty easily seeing as how his jaw had gone slack by the time the smoke left completely. And I know when his eyes went back to puppy-dog brown because it was right as the bullet came out the back of his skull."

Two lone tears, one from each eye, rolled out and down my cheeks.

"You would find in that report that the evidence showed he apparently snapped and came after me. It would also show that my hallucinations and possible break from reality caused by the aforementioned husband snap was likely all due to a faulty smoke bomb canister that had some chemical mix-up. The report ends with them jerking each other off, congratulating themselves for bringing it to the attention of the manufacturer, so they could do a mass recall. But I'm still that once-promising elite who shot a fellow officer at point-blank range in the line of duty. And after I used up all my bereavement leave and vacation time and sick time, and just somehow couldn't manage to suck it up and go back to being a robot, they fired me."

Dean moved a hand, beginning to reach up like he was going to wipe my tears away.

No.

I made my voice cold again. Jody was drunk that night, too. She'd explained to me I wasn't crazy. Explained the world within our world. Told me enough about these hunter friends of hers, a pair of brothers, for me to put two-and-two together as I heard more stories over time. I knew just how much my husband and Dean really had in common.

"You ever looked into the eyes of evil, Dean? Knew it was gonna eat you alive? Coming from someone you thought you knew inside and out?"

Dean froze, and as I watched his face morph into something hard, I felt my eyes narrow in viciousness, the corners of my mouth tweak up in wickedness.

"Yeah you do," I whispered, answering for him.

I stayed frozen, too. We were playing emotional chicken. He broke first, turning completely away, staring out the front window into the night. Sam was gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles had gone white.

I sat back. "We getting close?" I asked him, my voice back to normal.

"About ten more minutes," Sam answered quietly.

"Good. I need a shower," I commented, back to absently fiddling with the rings.

And I did. I felt disgusting.

Those next ten minutes passed quickly, and Sam helped me out of the car, as Dean had practically bolted as soon as the keys were out of the ignition. Sam reached back in, slung my backpack over one of his shoulders, then picked up my boots.

"I can--" I started, but he looked at me with such kindness and sympathy, it broke my heart a little.

"It's okay," he said softly, and I knew he didn't just mean playing bellhop for me. And I believed him. For tonight, it was going to be okay.

"Sweet lord," I muttered when we entered the bunker proper.

Sam chuckled. "I'll give you the nickel tour in the morning." He chose a room from what seemed like a hundred options along a rounded hallway, turning on the light, dropping my bag onto the bed and setting my boots by the door.

"Sink," I noted. "That's... convenient."

"You're close to the bathroom and the showers," Sam said, and I followed him a little ways down the hall. And shit, I was getting stiff again. My word vomit in the car had only relieved it for a little while. A hot shower was now a definite, not a maybe.

I stopped cold at the threshold. Sam had walked in, telling me I could help myself to any of the soap and shampoo I saw, when he noticed I hadn't followed. It was like a locker room - no door at the entry, no curtains or individual stalls.

"Uh..." I began, trailing off with a little grin as I gestured around to all the open space.

Sam actually blushed a bit, reached up, ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah. I didn't think of that. We don't exactly have guests. I mean, not-"

"Of the boob variety, yeah, I figured that," I finished for him. But I wasn't annoyed or irritated. Sam was a good guy. Probably why I looked on him like a kid brother. He treated me nice, and it made me edgy. "Well," I said with a sigh, "I suppose I'll just have to be quick."

"I could hang a sheet over the doorway," he offered.

I shrugged. I knew Sam wouldn't dare disturb me, and it seemed Dean was hell and gone from anywhere near me, so it was really irrelevant.

"Okay, well, let me at least let you borrow one of my shirts. I'll grab a pair of pajama pants, too."

"That'd be great, an old t-shirt is my usual lingerie anyway," I told him honestly.

Sam nodded. "I'll rustle up some towels."

I went back into the bedroom while he went on his mission. It was retro from top to bottom. I kind've loved it. Standing at the mirror above the tiny sink, I gathered my long hair up again, but this time into a messy top knot. It had been cropped short for so long, out of necessity, so I'd let it grow over the past several years, and I didn't really know why. Some kind of spite? Flipping a bird at the past? Wanting to look like a completely different person? Because that's how I felt inside, anytime I'd look in the mirror?

I unzipped the backpack, tossing items to the side as I rooted through everything. It was my go-bag, so all the contents were needs only, a low-caliber version of my typical fare from home. When missions were spur of the moment, it was handy to have - our gear and outerwear was already at our home base, so all we needed to have was a spare set of the basics.

Toothbrush and toothpaste: check. Through the plastic of a ziplock - lipbalm, tiny bottle of lotion, tiny deodorant, disposable razor, small bar of soap: check. Two plain white v-neck t-shirts: check. Two pair white tube socks: check. Two pair plain white cotton briefs: check. Plain white cotton bra... plain white cotton bra... plain white- aaarrrgh.

I was muttering a few of my favorite blasphemous vocabulary words, continuing to dig, then re-checking what I'd already pulled out, like it would materialize. I knew exactly what had happened. I'd tossed out the bra that had traditionally lived in the go-bag, as well as all the others I'd owned at the time. 'The time' being when I had to stop working out and lifting weights like a maniac - thank you, broken back - and the cups on all my bras rapidly became too small. I'd put on about fifteen more pounds overnight, and it felt like they'd split the difference between my chest and my hips and my ass. The only reason the cargo pants I was wearing fit at all was because they used to belong to... they used to be...

I shook it off. If I had to go braless, I didn't want my skin to be directly against one of their shirts. Even that felt too close right then.

A soft rap against the open door behind me.

"Hey I don't need that t-shirt after all, just the pants," I was saying as I turned around.

There stood Dean.

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Author’s Note: This was written due to a loss of a bet, the terms of which involved “serious Dean smuttage” but evolved [read: devolved]. I can’t write anything (a) short or (b) without plot. Do with that info what you will. 

Anyway, so I lost the bet and wrote the thing and published it, and The Commissioner’s feedback was that it had too much plot and no boning and was too canon-y and WTF. 

And I said - Well who raised me? 

I was met with silence [and I cannot EMPHASIZE the clear-and-present-danger this represents when it comes to the Commish] but was ultimately told I could keep my plot as long as I (a) smutted it up more [hence your verbiage no one actually uses to describe anything in reality] and (b) understand that if I got >20 compliments on this installment I’d owe a second installment with (a) Sam and (b) absolute filth.

I, very stupidly, then took that bet.  Upcoming mattress-dancin’ with Sam “I Take An Investigatory Approach To Things, And By ‘Things’ I Mean Your Hoo-Hah” Winchester, stay tuned.

[23daystotri]

Race Day

23/07/2017

I set two alarms this morning just to be on the safe side, it’s amazing to think that the human race survived without alarm clocks and snooze buttons. Both alarms were successful in their task and I awoke at 6 am after a decent nights sleep. My appetite was not huge but I knew I had to eat so I tucked into a bowl of porridge with blueberries made with full fat milk. This was accompanied by a side of vitamin and supplement tablets and washed down with a 2017 Lavazza.

6:30 am and it’s time to set off, I put the bike and bag in the car plus a bottle of SiS Go to drink on the way. It’s cross country from my place so the roads are quiet and it’s a nice dry and sunny morning unlike the weather prediction, which seems to be more over the place than I have been recently, which is saying something. I put some aggressive rap music on in the car to psyche myself up and wake the sleepy villages I pass through. 

7:30 am I arrive at Castle Howard and join the queue of vehicles that seems to be trailing back to the A64 to get into the overflow car park. There was no diversion to annoy me today and I am feeling chilled. I take myself, my bike and my gear to the transition area and I am the first in my wave / age group to arrive so place my bike at the end. I’m pleased about this as it should be easy to remember when transitioning. I lay my kit out next to my bike and then go to the changing tent to put my wet-suit on before leaving my bag in the bag dump. There was conversation between participants in the training tent but I was unusually quiet, in those moments I tend to try and listen and watch to see what others are doing and saying in an effort to learn anything that can help me. I listened to people boasting that they have only trained for 6 months and this is their first triathlon but I didn’t talk about my own circumstance. Back at the bike I organised my kit as best I could figure, I looked at what others around me where doing and was kindly advised by my neighbour to put my ankle timing chip inside the wet-suit as it would hinder me removing it (dumb ass). 

8:00 am Now as prepared as I can be I wander down to the Boat House to attend the safety briefing. I am there early and get to see the first wave set off, which gives me an insight into how I will approach the start of the swim. I have not mentioned that the circuit I was led to believe I was swimming on the previous days recce has been extended significantly (doubled), this is a mental blow but there’s not a lot I can do about it now. There are plenty of participants milling around but nobody is talking, I hear a toddler cheering for her father who is having his wet-suit fastened up by his wife but even this cheerful and happy encouragement does not bring a smile to his face. It feels like everyone is shitting themselves and not just me, I wonder why and continue to try and look brave.

8:40 am Safety brief, I listen to this with enthusiasm and absorb it all I am laughing my head off as I write this line.

8:58 am The race director concludes the safety briefing and advises us that there is 2 minutes until the start and then about 50 neoprene clad, google eyed, smurf wannabees (blue swim hats) start some argy bargy trying to secure pole positions. I amble slowly into the water and do what I have been wanting to do for the last hour. Yes I take a piss and make my way to the back of the bus with the other cool kids / shit swimmers. 

9:00 am This is it I am swimming, I start breast stroke to let the other swimmers get away from me and then settle into front crawl, on the outward leg of the circuit there are 4 red buoys at 100m, 250m and then 375m followed by 3 yellow buoys at approximately the same distances. My first objective is obviously the first red buoy and I achieve this surprisingly easily and move to my next aim the second red buoy, which I again surprise myself by reaching with no real difficulty and so set my sights on the third red. This seemed like a more difficult stage in my breakdown but nevertheless I made it and performed the left turn that would take me round the first yellow. In my head I was telling myself this is it you have completed a quarter you only have to do this three more times so just keep going. The swim from the first yellow buoy to the second one was tough, I remembered what numerous people told me and applied it. This was to be my mantra for the day and was simply to remind myself to “Enjoy Yourself”, this simple thought enabled me to calm myself, slow my breathing, focus my stroke and relax. This was the first time I applied it today and it worked for a little while, that is until the weeds started wrapping themselves around my arms and legs. I felt I could not do front crawl anymore as I was just raking weeds up of the lake floor so I started swimming breast stroke while I looked for deeper water. After a bit of a spook and a little distance I felt comfortable swimming front crawl again and reverted back to it. By this point I had passed the second yellow buoy and was halfway to the third, I’m thinking positively and convincing myself that I have nearly completed half and that I just need to do the same again and this thing is pretty much done. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t tiring and after passing the third yellow buoy and heading for the orange starting gate to start the second lap the part of my brain that did not want to be taking part in a triathlon opened up a dialogue / debate trying to convince the rest of the brain that it would just be best to get out of the water and go home now seeing as we are so close to the jetty. I made it to the start line and stopped, stood up, took my goggles off and gave them a rinse as they were steamed up. I set off again knowing I just had to make it out to that last red and all I had was the home stretch, I started swimming occasionally sighting but just trying not to look, I didn’t want to see how far it was. I passed the first buoy and then the second and was elated that the third was coming up so quickly I knew I had it in me to do this now and made my left turn at the final red buoy. There was a kayak in the way and the girl shook her head and explained I was mistaken and that I had the final outward buoy to swim to, what a hammer blow that was. I kept going but was totally deflated and it messed with my head, I made it half way but just wanted to stop and I did stop and started treading water. A stranger on the lakeside who was walking her dog started screaming at me to keep going I swear she was calling me names but I can’t be certain. I swam like 5 more metres and stopped again so she started again so I started again. I kept going this time and made the final red,  I just had to swim back now. The final quarter was a desperate swim, I forgot which side of the buoys I had to swim round and had to keep stopping to ask the stewards for guidance. The weeds grabbed at me but this time I was not having it and I ignored them “Enjoy Yourself”. I make the first buoy, then the second and finally the third and I just need to swim to the exit point. My right hand was cramped and shaking like a shitting dog. I am the last of my wave in the water and I believe I can hear a crowd of spectators on the jetty cheering for me, I remember to kick my legs fast for the last 100m and am amazed that I am doing exactly this. I also remember to swim until my fingers touch the lake bed before I stand because apparently its easier than walking out. I do this and stand up and the crowd cheers (I think), as I put my feet down in what I thought was a foot of water they sink into 3 feet of water and weed and bog. Between this and the shock of standing up I keel over backwards and go under, I correct myself and emerge to a cheer (I think) and take several steps forward before falling again and emerging to another cheer. Finally I make it to the end of the lake and the steward explains there is a large step and offers me his hand to help pull me up it, we manage it at the second attempt and I am out of the water grasping at the metal barriers used to keep the crowd back for support. I’m proper fucked! I drag myself along the barrier and people are cheering and offering words of support, after about 10 paces I hear someone shouting at me to undo my wet-suit to aid my breathing and I do and it does and then I find my feet and start the 300m run up to the transition.

10:00 am (ish) I get on my bike and go for a leisurely 45K Sunday ride in the Howardian Hills, I make sure I fuel well and hydrate well but essentially take it easy. I treat it like a rest leg saving myself for the run. I used to ride 60k or 70k for fun in these hills on an almost daily basis so I’m just enjoying the ride. I have not worn any timing device and don’t have a bike computer so am blissfully unaware of whether I am going to make the cut off time until I stop at a food stop and found out that at the halfway point of the ride I have 2 hours to go. This information is very encouraging and I even take the time to stop and let a fellow rider use my CO2 canister and a cylinder to repair his bike. The final turn back up to Castle Howard amuses me as it reminds me how foolish it would be not to build Castles on top of hills and I see the final climb. All in all its been a nice ride, those female triathletes have lovely bums.

12:00 am (ish) I transition to the run /  have a small picnic. I figure I have an hour to do the run and think I might make the four hours but I am not stressing I just want to finish. As I run out I hear John and Nikki cheering for me and give them the thumbs up. My relaxed ride has left me with no neck, back or leg issues so I am perfectly set up to complete this run. I feel like I have been running no time at all and I hit the 1K mark (lush), I just keep running steady and slow making sure to adopt the new style that John taught me. I keep ticking the KM markers off, I am constantly being passed but I don’t care I am still in it and that’s all I am bothered about. Finally I hit 5K and the buzz kicks in as I know I am halfway through the final leg, I pick up the pace a little as I am starting to care about this 4 hour cut off and make sure to keep the form. I am starting to pass people now but the KM markers seem to be further apart. My left insole is cramping and my right foot is developing a blister but this wasn’t going to stop me. I count the KM’s down, 6, 7, 8 and then it’s 1. There is penultimate climb and I have conserved so much energy that where others are faltering I power up it. I run alongside another competitor who seems elated she has got this far shes screaming “Fuck you triathlon” and high fiving me. I power up the final climb to the finish raise my hands to my head in amazement and someone puts a medal round my neck. I rush over to John and we do our compulsory fist bump explosion thing and ask if I am in four hours and he tells me yes.

13:00 pm (ish) I drink some coke, some water, get changed pack the car and go home. WTF do I do with myself now?