#played with the band again last night and it was so fun feeling blissed out about writing music and singing and working collaboratively

[averagejoesolomon]

Listen—LISTEN. Don't look at me like that. It's LITERALLY Sunday night. This is a perfectly normal time for me to post a Full Circle chapter. Ignore the fact that I've already posted two other chapters this week. I am simply having the most fun of my life. Here's the kids, being real cute. If you're new here, you can read all of Full Circle on Ao3. CW: Rachel is stitching up Matt in this one. It's all fairly tame as far as cuts and blood go, but you do definitely see some of the action.

Chapter Twelve

Rachel sees the blood before Matt feels it. 

He’s running on some strange cocktail of adrenaline, exhaustion, euphoria, and bliss, which means he can’t trust his usual signals. Can’t tell where his pulse is supposed to be and where it’s not. All the sensations he’d usually sort into good or bad now fall into a single shared bucket—intense—so when Rachel’s thumb brushes across the Band-aid on his temple, he can’t tell if it’s tender to the touch, or if it’s only tender because she’s the one doing the touching. “Your stitches,” she says, appraising the damage. “They came undone.”

Right. The first option, then. “Well,” he says, hands gliding thoughtlessly up and down her thighs, “at least they didn’t come alone.”

She huffs. A remark like this would normally earn him a chiding hit to the torso, but Rachel can’t seem to find a safe place to land among all his new cuts and bruises. She settles for an equivalent look instead, but it can’t fool him. He spots the amusement playing at the corner of her lips, which reminds him what a shame it is to waste such soft lips on all this not-kissing they’re doing.

Before he can make good on any efforts to rectify this situation, Rachel starts to peel the Band-aid back, which is another one of those intense sensations he can’t quite sort out in his mind. That is, until she grazes the cut itself, sending a starburst of clear pain across his forehead, his eye, his inner ear. There’s no hiding the wince that comes with it, and all of her scattered attention clicks into place with a doting tsk. “I just finished putting you back together.”

“For the record,” he says, “I really, really didn’t mind getting taken apart again.”

“I have to redo these.”

“Stay.”

“And the ones on your cheekbone.”

“Stay.”

Despite his grounding grip on her waist, she ignores his pleas and unwinds from his lap. Her warmth lingers on top of him and Matt lets his head fall to the pillows at his back, downright defeated. 

If he can’t admire her up close, he at least enjoys the view of her at the edge of their bed as she searches for discarded clothes. Her exposed back sends a hot, catching little thrill through his chest, satisfying some need put there by the dress-covered version that’s been running through his thoughts for a full day. He takes in the shape of her. The way each muscle stretches, tenses, releases. The rise and fall of every last breath. He almost protests when she throws something over it, until he realizes she’s found his gray hoodie, and somehow he likes this sight even more. “God, ain’t that somethin’ to see.”

She glances up at him with a knowing smile, and he realizes this is another tactical move on her part. He’s being toyed with, and he’s enjoying every moment of it. “This old thing?” she teases, plucking his socks from the pile, too. She slides these nearly to her knees before standing to make her way across the room. “Just a little something I threw on.”

“Yeah…” he answers, dragging his eyes along her poised outline, tucked inside his slouchy silhouette. “That’s yours now. All of it—on one condition, which is that you only wear this, exclusively, for forever.”

From the other side of the bed, she scoops up his boxers and tosses them to him. “Doesn’t seem very practical.”

He catches them one-handed, then wriggles them up his legs. “Reckon I’ll have to take it all back, in that case,” he says, but he steals another glance at the way his hemline hits her thighs, just low enough to keep her covered, but just high enough to give him hope for a fresh glimpse at more. “But, nice guy that I am, I suppose I can let you borrow it for now.”

She collects a handful of supplies from the nightstand—gauze, bandages, her suture kit. “How generous of you.”

“I’m a generous sort of guy.”

“I know you are.”

A subtle flush crawls up her neck and into her cheeks, which sends his entire center buzzing, his spine acting as a lightning rod for the striking, sparking memories of Rachel’s hands in his hair, Rachel’s legs against his cheeks, Rachel arched toward the ceiling, Rachel calling out his name. All these flashes of her, still humming against his skin. Plus, the real-time gratification of watching the same flashes play out for her.

She chooses this moment to climb back into bed, returning to the easy straddle she left behind. “Oh, I wouldn’t do that,” Matt warns, hands falling into place along her hips. “Unless you’re looking to go again.”

She sets her supplies down on the sheets beside them, laying out each individual piece with the kind of precision he’s come to expect from her after all these years. Her eyes are big, and brown, and zealous when she leans closer to him, voice low. “Who says,” she mutters, “that I don’t want to go again?”

She ought to be careful saying things like that when she ain’t even wearing any pants to protect her when he decides to follow through. But, seeing as he’s ninety-nine percent sure this is some sort of test, he bites back a grumbling sigh and tries, “The nine stitches in my face, maybe?”

With a soft, patient smile, she closes the short distance between them to leave a kiss on his busted lips. “Good answer,” she says when she pulls back. “Especially since, right now, you only have four of them.”

That’s probably a decent measure of something—the more stitches pulled, the better the sex, maybe—but now doesn’t seem like the time to say so and anyway, they don’t need nonsense like that to know they’re good together. They’re good because Rachel is attentive and Matt’s eager to please. They’re good because they know how to read one another, listen to one another, understand one another. They’re good because they care. Matt and Rachel work in bed for all the same reasons they work everywhere else, complementing one another in ways that don’t seem practical on paper, but wind up working out in practice.

Her weight shifts smoothly, warmly across his lap as she reaches toward a glass of water on the nightstand, wetting a wad of clean gauze. With her other hand, she takes his chin in that way she does, holding him steady. Carefully, meticulously, she wipes blood from one side of his face, lipstick from the other, and whatever it is she finds on his lips that justifies another few swipes. Good, he decides. This sensation is good, starting with the warmth of her touch and leaving behind cool, dewy streaks in her wake.

For his part, Matt ain’t left with much to do except watch her work. Watch her hands move with purpose. Watch her top teeth bite into her lower lip. Watch her eyes carve into every last curve of his face. She goes on like this for a good while, discarding and dipping another three pads, tending to all the places where his pulse beats the strongest. There’s a word for when she gets like this, but the fatigue is starting to catch up with him. His eyelids grow heavy by the time he thinks of it—divine, but not in its cliché, romantic form. Divine in the biblical sense. As in, God’s divine power, or a diviner’s wisdom, or to divine an almighty truth. Beautifully capable. All-knowing awe. Divine.

He doesn’t realize he’s said the word out loud until there’s a skip in the rhythm of Rachel’s hands. The slightest pause. He wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t so keyed into her, but as things are, he blinks slowly back into the moment and glances heavenward until he finds her face. The sight of her only confirms the thought, so he reiterates, “You really are divine.”

She must hear it the way he means it, because her hands stop altogether this time. She looks at him like she wants to kiss him and then, all at once, she seems to remember that she’s allowed to, more than allowed to, and she makes it happen. He makes a solid effort to match her enthusiasm, but the ache in his ribs holds him back. His muscles are all mixed up in equal parts fatigue and satisfaction. His body’s slowing down on him, adrenaline finally fading.

When she draws back, she swipes her thumb across his lips, clearing her workspace once more. “And you,” she says, setting aside the final pad of gauze, “are exhausted.”

“You keep kissing me like that, and I’ll be wide awake.”

“That’s a shame, because you’ll probably wish you were asleep for this next part.”

Sure enough, she unclasps her suture kit and pulls out the hooked needle, wiping it down with an alcoholic pad. It comes back with blood from the first time she stitched him up. Dread builds in his gut as she threads it, but the feeling doesn’t hold once she leans into him, stomach-to-stomach, chest-to-chest, leveraging one arm against his shoulder and holding another above his head. “Sorry,” he teases. “Am I in your way?”

She turns his head to the side. “Hold still.”

Rachel’s no stranger to backroom first-aid and she’s even stitched up Matt on more than one occasion. But the fact of the matter is that she used all the good, taught skin on the first round of stitches and she’s forced to improvise on the second. It takes longer than it should, even with her expertise, and everything is more sensitive than it ought to be. This sensation is bad, bad, bad a dozen times over, poking and tugging straight down to his nerves, and it’s balanced only by the comforting feel of Rachel’s weight pressing him into the mattress.

She must not need such a severe vantage point for the last two stitches, because she sits upright and turns his head to face her once more. His cheek is meatier than his temple and gives the thread more to hold onto. It should make her job easier, but she’s still got that same focused look she started with. That's odd. Exhausted or not, Matt can spot when one of his people ain’t right.

So he goes off a hunch. “What are you thinking about?”

She pulls the first knot tight. “Infection,” she says, not missing a beat. “Paperwork. Getting tickets back home.”

These are all fine answers for the circumstances, but not for the person. Infection can be managed back home. Paperwork, too. And even with his extended detour, Rachel knows how to exchange any plane ticket without paying a dime in transfer fees. For someone like her, these are small logistical details that she could hash out in her sleep. They’re not worthy of the harsh lines carved into her brow or the tight purse of her lips. “You wanna take that horse down the road?” he offers. “Because I certainly ain’t buying it.”

Her eyes flit up at him, but return to his cheek just as quickly. With two small loops around her needle, she settles back into the automatic, familiar movement of her hands. “Stop talking,” she says. “It’s scrunching up your face.”

The needle is high enough on his cheek that his words don’t matter, and they both know it. “I gotcha,” he says. “So you’ve got no problem letting me run my mouth over every last inch of you, but you draw the line at any real intimacy—is that it?”

The second suture puncture hurts worse than the first. Matt’s not sure that’s an accident.

“That wouldn’t happen,” she tells him, “if you would just hold still.”

With the threat of her needle still looming, he bites his tongue, giving her time to loop the second knot, pull it tight, and cut the thread short. Though not explicitly written out in any agency handbooks, it goes against conventional wisdom to piss off the person stitching him up, which brings him back to watching all her detailed divinity. It really is something, the way her thoughts play out on her face, if only a fella knows what to look for.

She examines her work before setting the needle aside and reaching for another Band-aid patch. Just like before, she peels the wings apart one at a time and presses it to his tender temple. Slowly, gently, Matt reaches toward the same spot on her, mirroring her touch. She pulls away as though it hurts, just the same as his, but he persists. “You can’t solve everything up here,” he reminds her. “And you definitely can’t do it alone.”

This softens her, just slightly at first, then more and more until she’s leaning heavy against his hold. Before long, she takes his hand in hers, guides it to her lips to kiss his palm. “I’m not very good at this next part,” she admits.

Her breath slips into every last line on his hand. “And what part is that?”

Her chill soothes his bloodied knuckles. “The part when I ask you what we’re doing.”

Rachel is a genius. A master strategist. A planner, down to her core. She’s trying to open up this moment, reach inside of it, and understand how it works. Matt’s of the opinion that these situations don’t lend themselves to logic and reason, but he’s willing to let her try. “You mean to tell me,” he starts, “this wasn’t in your fifty-point-plan for the Moscow mission?”

“It was a hundred-and-thirteen-point plan,” she corrects. “If you’re going to tease, at least get the numbers right.”

“My apologies.”

She says, “I’m serious, Matthew,” and he can see her usual severity taking over. Her playfulness, lust, serenity—the further they get from needy kisses and clothes thrown across the room, the more it all fades. “I’m not sure we should be together. Not like this.”

He lets out a low whistle, which provides the levity he’s looking for, but at the cost of a sharp twinge in his cut lip. “Wow, you are efficient, aren’t you?” he says. “It usually takes girls at least a few months to break up with me.”

This is meant as another joke, but she takes it in earnest. “That’s exactly what I’m saying,” she says. “Am I breaking up with you? How serious is this? Are we even…break-up-able?”

And if he can’t draw her back onto his level of ease, he’s going to have to meet her in the solemnity. “Rachel, listen—no teasing, just really, honestly, listen to me. If we’re gonna do this, then we’re gonna have to do it, because there ain’t a chance in Hell that I am ever, ever gonna be just a little bit in love with you, for just a short amount of time.” He laces his hands behind her tailbone and gives her a reassuring squeeze, hoping it all comes across as truthfully as he intends. “And if that’s too much, all at once, then I dunno—”

“It’s not too much,” she cuts in, and she spares an urgent touch on his stomach just to prove it. His insides flutter at her fingertips. “But I think this is all going to get too complicated.”

“Too complicated for Rachel Cameron?” he challenges.

“No, don’t do that. This is really complicated, Matt, and I’m not a miracle worker.” All of her reasoning builds behind her lips, and he just has to let her go. Say it all aloud. Be heard by someone who isn’t the voice in her head. “Half the time, I don’t know where you’ve traveled or why you were there. And even if I can trust you, I don’t know if I can trust your network”—he opens his mouth to protest, but she beats him to the punch—“and I’m not just talking about Joe. Joe’s the one I know about. Who else are you working with that I don’t know about? How can I trust that you won’t put yourself at risk for them, too?”

Catherine comes to mind, reminding Matt that he doesn’t even know everyone he’s working with, but Rachel’s right. This ain’t the Boy Scouts. After years of chasing the Circle, he’s learned that finding one bad guy usually requires help from a lot of other bad guys, and he wonders if he’ll ever reach a point when his alliances are more Circle members than not. What’s that going to do to him, running with a crowd like that? And what would it do to Rachel if they got together? He doesn’t have a plan for when something unexpected in one life starts to bleed into another.

“And let’s not forget,” she says, “that less than twenty-four hours ago, you broke away from your crew to sell US identities in Moscow. You can’t expect me not to report that. I can't look the other way, and even if I could, there were witnesses—and you got injured. I had to extend our op, because I couldn’t put you on a plane with confidence. This is going to get back to Langley and when it does, it’ll be paperwork, and court hearings, and investigations. It’ll be jail time, Matthew, and you’ll be lucky to ever work in this business again.”

There’s no judgment in her tone. Just inevitable fact. A truth she can’t shake, with the information she has at hand. “And where does that put me?” she goes on. “Even if I do decide to trust that you had good and moral reasons to trade those passports—a decision I’m not sold on, by the way—what is it going to look like when we get back to the States? Like I’m associating with a double-agent? Literally sleeping with the enemy?” There’s a spark of those same, frustrated tears she always seems to get around him, but this time they’re accompanied by her touch, absentminded fingers tracing old scars in his torso. “It really isn’t fair, because I want you and I want to try, try to make this work. But I will not give up my career, my life, myself just because you took too big a risk and got caught.”

He waits her out for a few extra seconds, leaving space for any addendums or postscripts she might want to tack onto the end. But then her eyes flash to him, signaling that it’s his turn now, and it’s second nature to follow her lead. “Well,” he says. “if that’s all…”

She drops her face into her hands and groans—and not one of those delighted, indulging groans he’s gonna be thinking about for years to come. Just the opposite. This is a rare show of embarrassment from a woman who just laid her entire heart bare. “I told you I was bad at this part.”

“Hey, hey, hey, none of that now.” Without hesitation, he reaches for her hands. Pulls them away from her face. Wraps them in his palms and locks them into the spot where her lap meets his. “This is exactly the kind of thing you’re great at—though, clearly, you’re not known for your optimism.” 

“What are you—?”

“Rachel,” he says, stopping her before she can get going again. “You won’t catch any grief from me, trying to figure out how our lives fit together. You’re the smartest person I know, and the fact that you’re even entertaining the idea is—no kidding—all the proof I need to know it’s worth a shot. I like that you’re thinking about this. And I might even be able to help.”

She actually, physically grimaces at the suggestion, trying with all her might not to point out that her plans are calculated, efficient feats of spycraft, while his plans landed him in a river just this morning. “Help?”

His laugh falls out of him without effort, bless her heart. “While I’m absolutely flattered by that show of confidence,” he says, “I’m not looking to run the show, here. Just provide a little more intel. It’s like you said—you don’t need everything, but you deserve something.”

Visible relief crosses her features, and her uncertain shoulders settle. “Okay,” she says. Then, with a touch more caution, “And you’re allowed to pass along this intel?”

“Oh, no, definitely not,” he says. “But truthfully, I’m not sure what happens if you commit this incident to paper. Nothing good, that’s for sure. So I’m going to tell you something, and then we’re both going to meet with the Director of Operations about it later.”

“Director of…?” She tries the title out on her tongue, testing the weight of it. “You’re talking about Alexander Smith? Director of Operations for the CIA? That Director of Operations?”

“The one and only.”

 “Matthew.” She’s sighing his name again, but not in the fun way. Instead, she’s all wrapped up in a tired disbelief, leaning slowly into his shoulder as though she might understand better, if she can just get a little closer. “What have you gotten yourself into?”

He takes all of her weight, happily, and slips a hand under his borrowed hoodie to leave soothing circles along her back. It’s easy, drawing his fingertips up and down the muscles he’s already committed to memory.

He says, “It’s not too late to stay in the dark.”

The words are just above a whisper, right in her ear. For a split second, he prays she takes him up on the offer. Begs her, silently, to choose ignorance while she still can. And to Rachel’s credit, she doesn’t take the decision lightly. The two of them sit like this for a long time, his hand looping along her back, her breaths expanding against his chest, both of them knowing that this is the moment that changes everything.

But Rachel has been chasing this information for ages, and he can’t expect her to turn it down after all this time. “No.” She unwraps herself from his hold, trading a seat in his lap for a spot on his good side, right in the crook of his arm. “Tell me.”

He’s never really registered how small she truly is. Rachel always stands so much taller than her actual height, taking up more space in a room than her body calls for. But beside his farm-raised frame, she’s downright petite. The words small but mighty come to mind, as he works up the courage to tell her, “Joe and I—we’re going after something. And it ain’t a usual threat, so we’re not going about it in the usual ways.”

Back home, her gracious listening would be seen as polite, but Matt knows better. He sees her answering silence for what it truly is—an interrogation technique, and an effort to make him say more. It works. “We’ve got a long leash,” he explains. “You don’t know where I’m traveling because, most of the time, no one knows where I’m traveling. Not the record keepers. Not my case officer. Sometimes, not even me. We go, we do what needs to be done, and we report back when we need to. But nothing makes it to paper. There are no travel logs, or expense reports, or ticket stubs on file for any of these ops.”

He can see her mind working, right before his very eyes. “No paper trail,” she says, in the manner of a woman who’s tried like Hell to find one, but always came up short. “Why?”

A hard lump of hesitation clogs up his throat, a stopper for something he can’t take back once it’s said aloud. Rachel’s smart enough to crack this whole thing with the smallest scraps. She already has once, back when they were Townsend’s age and sharing an armrest at Wrigley Field. A mole, she had realized, without him even saying so. Once he says it, she'll draw her own conclusions, and she'll be right. She will, officially, know too much.

And once she does, there’s a chance this information gets her killed, someday down the road. A chance it gets her hurt, court-martialed, jailed if any of this ever gets out. A chance—absurd and slim, but well within the realm of possibility—that she’s the mole he’s spent years looking for, and this has all been a long game.

But he’s spent this entire evening, this entire mission, their entire relationship telling her to trust him. He’d be a fool and a hypocrite to doubt her after all that. Rachel was born into espionage and, according to Henry, trained in the craft from her earliest years. Intel is her livelihood, the same way it's Matt’s, and he has to trust that she knows what to do with it. That she knows how to keep it, and them, safe once she has it.

“Everything is off-books because it has to be,” he says. “I’m not hiding anything from Langley, but Langley has plenty of reasons to hide what I’m doing.”

She studies him at the microscopic level, running his story through that infallible mind of hers and trying to find holes. Matt’s telling the God’s-honest truth, but he’ll admit—if all of this were a lie, it’d be damn hard to disprove. It’s going to take more than a little trust on her part. Maybe even a little faith.

She doesn’t dismiss him outright, which is a promising start. Instead, she prods him for just a little bit more. “But you have friends,” she clarifies. “High up the ranks.”

“You didn’t think I was keeping this up all on my own, did you?” he says. “I’m good, Rachel, but I’m not that good. If I didn’t have someone helping me, some analyst would have pegged me as a risk a long time ago.”

“The Director?”

“Smith’s the one who put us on the case.”

“Which means,” she concludes, “no jail-time?”

“And no double-agent status,” he confirms. “We’ll meet, we’ll explain what happened, and he’ll take care of it. He always does. He’ll want to hear about this op anyway—it’ll save everyone the work of redacting half of your mission notes later on.”

The Director’s involvement seems to ease some of her uncertainty, providing a concrete possibility that she can fact-check when she gets home. Still. There’s something to the way her look lingers, like she’s not quite satisfied with the answers she’s got. Gently, he says, “That’s really all I can tell you.”

“That’s more than you can tell me,” she reminds him, and it’s the truth. His heart’s still racing from the admission, and he’s certain she can hear it. “And I want that to be enough…”

He can hear it, right on the tail end of her words. “But...?”

She bites her lip. “I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t nothing to be sorry about.”

“I want to trust you.”

“I know you do.”

“But I’m just so”—she tries to find the word, and picks one that sits right at her uncensored center—“scared that I’m wrong. Everything in my training is telling me to keep my guard up. I’m on edge, all the time, and I just can’t seem to shake it.”

Once again, he decides to meet her where she’s at, rather than fight her into understanding. “Let’s talk training, then. In this business, you’ve got to find your allies, right?” he tries. “People who know all of your intel who, when the chips fall, you still trust to land on your side. Well, I reckon love is pretty similar. You give someone all this inside information, and maybe you even arm them with a grenade or two, and then you have to trust that they won’t throw them in your direction. That they’re going to work with you, instead of against you.”

When it’s laid out in her language, something in her lights up. Finally, he’s got a logic she can follow. But it doesn’t last long. Rachel’s been at this work for a while, which means she’s got the insight to know, “Sometimes alliances go bad.”

Matt shrugs, which settles her deeper at his side. “Sometimes love does, too,” he agrees. “But we trust it anyway, at least while we can. Then we figure out what to do when we can’t anymore.”

Her hand slides across his stomach, until her entire arm is wrapped around his torso and she’s looking up at him like she never has before. Like she sees a way forward, when everything until now has been stuck on the secrets kept between them.“You weren’t part of my plan, Matthew.”

This sort of thing never is, and maybe that’s what Matt likes most about it. “Then let’s keep talking about how I fit into what you’ve already got,” he proposes. “Tonight, tomorrow, a week from now. However long it takes.”

“It might take a long time,” she warns.

“I don’t mind the wait,” he says. “Talking to you is the part I like most, anyway.”

So they do. They talk, they laugh, they kiss, they debate, and then they talk some more. They talk about serious things and they talk about silly things. They talk about things neither one of them will remember in the morning, then they talk about things they’ll think about for the rest of their lives. They talk until the day catches up with both of them, Matt fading first, then Rachel. They fall asleep as they are, all tangled up together, and then Matt keeps talking to her in his dreams. For the first time in the last two years, he's feeling good, good, good all over.

[theghostpinesmusic]

Goose put on a hell of a show for the two-night stand at Hampton Coliseum that was this year's Goosemas. I'll admit, though, that I struggled a bit to appreciate the second, third, and fourth sets as much as they probably deserved because the first set was, in my opinion, basically perfect. I had a similar "problem" with this year's US fall tour: I saw six (!) shows in a row in person, but my first show was Montana, which is a serious contender for the best show of the year. I thought four of the next five shows were also great (Spokane didn't click with me, but I loved the venue and having a show in my adopted PNW "hometown"), but nothing entirely stacked up to the first night, and it took awhile to adjust my expectations.

So, yes, while Goosemas was great overall, it was a weird run to watch from the couch because it felt like it peaked at the start. That said, what a peak! This mirror-themed set is five songs: a theme-appropriate, well-played "Earthling Or Alien?"; a "mirror" mashup of both arrangements of "All I Need?" with an amazing bliss jam, the "mirrored" "Tumble" I covered in my last post, a great cover of Michael Jackson's "Man In The Mirror"...and a twenty-plus-minute-long jam of Justin Timberlake's "Mirrors."

Yeah, you read that right.

Unlike most of my Goose jam posts, I'm not going to start by introducing the song here: it's a JT song, it's a billion times popular than any Goose song you probably know it already, and I don't know much about JT's music that a cursory Google search couldn't also tell you anyway. So let's just jump into it.

Before we get to the jam proper, the first thing I love about this cover is that the band (in my opinion) absolutely nails the song itself. I mean, I'm sure anyone who is totally in love with JT's music and has never heard of Goose is going to find it lacking, but within their own particular sound, I think the band does a great job with it.

Watching live, it took me until the second chorus to realize where I'd heard the song before, then I started laughing like a maniac. I love that busting out a bunch of (mostly) surprising covers like this one is what the band chose to do for their biggest two shows of the year/their careers so far.

Then, after Rick's anthemic outro solo that starts at 4:45, the band moves into a synth-y jam space at 5:55. Watching live, I started laughing even harder: like, they're not only going to cover JT, they're going to jam out the song?!

Yes. Yes, they are.

The initial space here is slow, deliberate, and a little murky due to the background synth. Peter moves pretty quickly over to the Vibe, which makes things a bit more melodic, and Rick adds some growl to his tone in response. The interplay here between them and Trevor is fantastic, if sparse. Rick is playing more notes here, but the super-heavy reverb'd tone from Peter really dominates the feel of the jamming.

Pete lays back a bit starting at 10:15 and Rick takes a bit more of an assertive role. The Sinister Factor gets dialed up a bit more. One neat detail of this section is the riff that Rick starts playing repeatedly at 11:20, which you can hear Trevor pick up at 11:45 when Rick moves on to the next idea.

As usual, maybe my dumb ears deceive me, but I hear a key change (or at least a scale change from Rick) at 12:16. This moves us out of sinister territory (mostly), and causes Peter to throw out a few siren sounds. I feel like you know we're officially way out there when Peter starts breaking out the siren.

At 13:45, Rick mixes things up again, and Ben follows along with him. This is a neat move that speeds things up and really brings the percussion forward in the jam for the first time. Peter also switches over to what I think of as his xylophone patch, which always makes my day. Synth loops and xylophone patches? Yes, please. There's something particularly fun and unique about the juxtaposition of Pete's "xylophone" and Rick's grungy, bluesy tone here.

It sounds like Rick teases something briefly at 16:37, but I can't tell what. It might just sound a little like "What's the Use?" to me. Shortly after this maybe-tease, the band goes full speed ahead and Rick goes nuts for a bit as Peter switches to organ washes. We crash into a really peaky section starting at 18:28.

Normally, this would be the culmination of a big jam like this one, but instead the band takes off into another space after the peaks, slowing things down again at 19:50. Pete lays down some bluesy piano that Rick chops away under. Though the spotlight is visually on Peter here, I feel like this is actually the most locked-in the whole band is during the jam. I love what Trevor is playing, and the (relatively) minimal drums add to the jam rather than subtracting to it.

My only complaint about this entire performance is that the last minute of the jam (with Peter's bass piano riff and the tempo slowdown) is so badass that I'm sad they only stuck with it for a minute. The quick ending is neat, though.

And that's the story of how Goose jammed a Justin Timberlake song!

[twenytwenytwo]

Dec 30 2022 (3:39pm)

After my last entry, I got (despite the positive thinkings) rather sad. Like deep sad, still somewhat fried and tired, lost feeling.

I believe yesterday (perhaps not?) I philosophized about the mechanics of my particular “problems”, and that they really are a clog in a figurative way.

Dopamine, responsible for pleasure, relaxation, desire, motivation. I’m sure Serotonin is woven in somehow, I really have little idea what I’m talking about…

… anyway, right now I feel like two of the big things in my life are not only out of order, but also in a state of stuckness, as far my brain goes. Lemme try again.

Consider the role of girlfriend in my life. I like girls and want a girlfriend. Right now, I have someone in my life, who isn’t my girlfriend, but acts as a clog (sorry Izzy) for that slot in my brain because by desiring someone, and getting a dopamine hit (or whatever), I’m fully breaking up with Izabel.

So, it’s like I don’t want to feel good, because I don’t want to feel bad.

To be excited and feel free to continue on with my love life and get to know somebody new, that would feel good. But the thought of that also feels really sad.

Similarly with Ethan and Zilch. I absolutely loved Zilch, admittedly the idealizations of Zilch’s eras gone by are likely extreme inflations, distortions of what they actually were, and void of any bad aspects. Hanging in the front yard in the sun. Practicing relentlessly. I miss it. Well, I miss the idealization.

Ethan and I were so amazingly arrogant and pretentious together. We talked each other up like mad, and felt like we were going to take over the world together. I felt like I had found my musical soulmate, and had no worries. We rarely, if ever, disagreed, and the juices flowed amazingly well, Life felt great because it felt like we were going somewhere amazing.

Then, of course, as it came time to change, Ethan and I’s differences slowly became more and more apparent. I didn’t know how to deal with this because I was afraid of conflict. When Ethan was a pain, I felt like he was threatened the very reason for me living, the thing that had made me feel so amazingly cool and like my life was worth something.

I feel like what would fully unclog the Zilch clog is if Ethan came to me and was like “Hey, I wanna be in the band again, and hang out lots and have fun, and you can do whatever you want with the band and I’ll just agree with it and make it better in the ways you think I make it better and nothing more.”

Dec 31 2022 (7:47am)

From there on, it would continue in the format that I don’t want it to: I’m the brain, Ethan’s the drummer. This is the way it largely was the entire time, also. For some reason, I cannot accept that Ethan does not make or break the band, besides being a operating drummer. He adds to the band as much as any other drummer of his calibre.

I have trouble finding my energy source, my enthusiasm because it’s stuck inside an idealization of the past that is dependant on perceptual distortions. The thought of Ethan and I jamming, creating, and playing music together in a band is bliss to me. I have total faith in it. BUT, this isn’t the whole story. Besides the dress-code stuff, there were many times during song development that Ethan was just not cooking anything up, he was playing really unimaginatively, or too basic, not enough balls. I began working on drum parts on my own, because I wasn’t satisfied with what he was coming up with.

Enter Florentine Unknown, in it’s full glory. That song that so encapsulates that era for me, was all me. That is some jazzy snazzy drumming for someone who was not a jazz drummer at all. Perhaps it’s hard for me to understand where I get that, and it’s easier to attribute it to Ethan. He likely encouraged it out, but it was there, I already liked it.

Other songs like Walking Thru the Night, Badadadada, were also rhythmically defined by me, again, not the rhythm section. It’s as if I wanted it to be a product of a really cool band, because that’s what I wanted; a really cool band. So I unconsciously credited it to Ethan.

But yeah, these idealizations are troublesome. It gets in the way of me letting go of something that needs to be let go of, because it was broken, inundated with naivety and inexperience, teenage ignorance and fantasy. It’s getting in the way of me doing what, underneath all the mud, I am genuinely passionate about.

Imagine a universe where Ethan simply did not exist, or perhaps he was squash farmer in Peru instead. I’d be here in Nanaimo, 17, writing songs, listening to the Doors, eager to make a band.

I encounter all the lousy drummers I have encountered so far. Either I’d adapt my standards to them, or — having heard Mitch Mitchel, etc, — would have found a drum kit myself, and started drumming earlier.

I get decent, fast. Faster than I did in this universe because I didn’t have a drummer. I’m sitting in my living room on Sherwood, on Florentine Unknown chooses me as is idea-host, I capture it. I record it, drums and all (I wrote that dope bassline too). It sounds great.

I write, record and release all the other usual songs, on my own. People love it. I hire a drummer to play the songs at the Vault, with a bassist. It’s great. People think Zilch is dope. Jazz rock. It’s like the Doors, Hendrix, and Santana.

Me and my band are great friends, we have laughs and beers after the show. They’re hired guns and there when I need them. I feel fulfilled, I got to make music like the music I love and was inspired by.

I go on to have a successful career and eventually find a regular band of cool dudes that love what I’m doing and are serious and dedicated. We tour, Zilch continues to release album after album of dope shit. Life is good.

A portal opens. Me from the universe steps out and tells the other Adrian my story, that I can’t do it without Ethan. Other Adrian is like “who the fuck is Ethan? I did this all myself, with a little help here and there. This universe is great, I get to fully develop my vision with some fuckwhit screwing it up, I hire people to play the music, have fun with it, we jam, they look good cause they’re getting paid…”

He tells me I sound a bit pathetic, and that I shouldn’t let my hangups slowly suck the life out of my talent and genius. This Ethan guy is just a guy who plays drums.

Other Adrian tells me that he became a renowned artist, and earned himself a career because he didn’t fuck around, if something wasn’t right he fixed it, no bullshit. He said my hangup sounds like the kind of bullshit he’d flush away.

This other Adrian is having a ball. He’s never met Ethan, and even think that collaborating is great, but doesn’t work for him. He finds people screw with his vision for the song, and the songs always end up better when he crafts it himself. Songs like Florentine Unknown.

(9:25am)

Ethan was a catalyst for me. The thought of playing a tune, an idea, for real was inspiring. Like, hearing it live in the jam room, drums and guitar, was stirring and inspiring. When he and I fell out, I lost that. I felt like my ideas remained just ideas all the way through to the recording being finished. “Stop Dreaming” has still technically never been played in this way, live, by living people.

The thought of live, living music is what gets me going. When Ethan and I would record live, it was perfect, conceptually at least. The idea was perfection, even with it’s imperfection. Ethan was the thing that made it a living thing, because he was the person a played my ideas with.

[slumbercube]

💙

[chvoswxtch]

remember that I love you. (7/?)

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie munson desperately needs to graduate this year, and you're the only tutor that hasn't turned him down. (this is part 7 of this series!)

warnings: cursing, angst, mentions sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 4.8k

a/n: I am once again apologizing for breaking your hearts. you guys know i'm a slut for some good angst. feel free to yell at me in the comments. this series will have a happy ending bc I am a huge sap, I swear. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated! please let me know if you would like to be tagged!

tags: @uraveragequeer @rosaline-black @willowss055 @lovsersclub @bellegirl16 @boeutiful @starryeyedkoko @korkisobsessions @fckyeahlames

The past month with Eddie had been nothing short of absolute bliss. I still had no idea how to play Dungeons and Dragons, but neither he nor any of the boys held it against me. They still let me come to their meetings and join in on the fun that I could comprehend. I sat with them everyday at lunch as long as I didn’t have another student that needed help, or a deadline to help Nancy with. I had even finally introduced Eddie to my mother, who was instantly won over by his charm and promises of no grandchildren until way after graduation.

For once I believed that things were finally starting to look up. I was perfectly content with where my life was at. I had started preparing my valedictorian speech with Nancy’s help and feedback. I wasn’t being bothered by someone who thought they knew what was best for me. Eddie was so close to finally graduating, and was patiently teaching me how to play guitar. And I was slowly convincing him that going to prom wouldn’t be conformist on his part, but actually an act of rebellion. Everything was perfect.

I suppose, that was the problem. Everything was perfect, and I was too content. I got complacent. And the universe, being the vindictive bitch it was, had a recipe for chaos concocted just for me. I never thought one little piece of paper would decide my future, or flip my world upside down. I thought what Eddie and I had built together was strong and could withstand anything. But one little piece of paper had it crashing down around us like a house of cards. 

It was a Friday night, like any other. Eddie had promised to come by after band practice, and we were going to the local diner for burgers and milkshakes to celebrate his latest above average essay grade. Although, we had gotten a bit carried away before we could even step foot outside. Eddie’s high energy was still coursing through his veins when he scooped me up into his arms and carried me to my bedroom. We quickly became a tangled mess of limbs and lips, neither of us feeling like we could get close enough to one another. I loved Eddie like this. He had made a new personal rule that he wasn’t satisfied if I didn’t come at least three times. And who am I to deny him what he wants? 

There was a hunger in his eyes as he stared up at me from his position between my thighs. He was insatiable when it came to devouring me. I was often the one who had to push him away because I was too sensitive, but he didn’t want to stop until he had every last drop of what I had to offer. Eddie was definitely a giver. I often had to fight back for my turn. I loved pleasing him. I loved the way he sounded. I love the faces he made, the filthy words he spoke, I loved him. 

I wanted to tell him, but I never got to say it the way I had planned. Because a little piece of paper that I had once dreamed of, suddenly became a nightmare I never wanted.

“What’s this?”

I turned my head in the direction of Eddie’s voice as I pulled my shirt over my head. I furrowed my brows slightly as I tried to make out what was in his hand. He held up a folded piece of paper that was in an envelope stashed beneath my pillow. My eyes widened once I realized what he had found.

“Oh, nothing. That’s nothing.”

“I dunno, looks important.”

“It’s um..nothing really. You ready to go? Cause I’m starving, and I could really go for-”

“Dear Miss Y/N Y/L/N, on behalf of the admissions committee, it is my honor and privilege to share with you that you have been admitted to New York University for the fall of 1986.”

Eddie’s voice trailed off as he read the rest of the letter, staring blankly down at the piece of paper in his hand. I hadn’t told him that I applied last fall. I hadn’t mentioned that I received the acceptance letter about two weeks after I had started tutoring him. I hadn’t told anyone about it. Not my mom, not even Nancy. NYU was a school I had dreamed of attending since I was little. My entire life, all I wanted was to go to school there. But now, I wasn’t so sure. So many things had changed in such a short amount of time.

“I..I was going to tell you.”

“When, graduation?”

There was an edge to Eddie’s voice that made me feel small. His hand was slightly shaking as he gripped onto the piece of paper, still refusing to meet my gaze. I nibbled anxiously at my bottom lip, slowly approaching him as he sat on my bed.

“No. I wasn’t going to wait that long, I just..”

“How long have you known? When did you get this?”

“March.”

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

Eddie quickly stood up and tossed the paper onto my bed. A dry, humorless laugh came from his mouth as he began to pace back and forth across the expanse of my bedroom.

“Eddie..please don’t be upset.”

“Upset? You’ve known about this for three fucking months now, and I’m just finding this out? That in what..a month when we graduate you’re just gonna, what? Take off? Runaway to New York City and send me a fucking postcard?”

“Of course not!”

“Then what, Y/N?”

“Look, I applied way before you and I even met, okay? And I got that letter right after I started tutoring you. I didn’t exactly think it was the best option to brag about getting into college when you were struggling just to graduate.”

Eddie dragged his palms down his face in aggravation, brushing his messy curls away from his face as he let out a deep sigh. He crossed his arms across his chest and stared at me from across the room. I could see the hurt swimming in his eyes, and the look of betrayal casting over his features.

“And what about when we started dating, huh? You didn’t think to mention it then?”

I had been dreading this conversation ever since I realized I had feelings for Eddie Munson. Even more so when he finally confessed his feelings for me. I knew I should’ve just ripped it off like a bandaid, dealt with the pain and given it time to heal. But for a goddamn moment I wanted to be selfish. I wanted to live in my little bubble with Eddie and not worry about the future. I sat down on the edge of my bed, fiddling with my fingers and hanging my head in shame.

“No.”

I heard him scoff and slap his hands against his thighs, resuming his pacing across my floor.

“And why the hell not?”

“Because I didn’t accept it.”

Eddie’s movements instantly halted at my admission. I could feel his unwavering gaze from where I sat. I couldn’t look at him. I had a gut feeling about where this conversation was going, and I wasn’t ready for it.

“Why?”

Eddie’s tone wasn’t curious, but demanding. He knew there was something else I was holding back. I hated how easily he could read me sometimes. It gave me absolutely no chance at an upper hand. I could see his beat up sneakers coming into view as he moved to stand in front of me, slowly lowering down onto his knees so that I had no choice but to be eye level with him.

“Why.”

There was no emotion in his voice. No warmth. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. There was no more hiding and running from this.

“Because..I’m not sure if it’s what I want anymore.”

After a moment of silence, I mustered every ounce of bravery I could find within myself to open my eyes and look at Eddie. There was a deep, somber expression etched onto his features and it made my chest feel tight. Neither one of us spoke for a solid two minutes. Eddie stared at me, like he was memorizing every detail of my face and it made me nervous. I waited, with bated breath for him to say something. Anything. All I wanted was for him to kiss me and tell me everything would be fine, and that we would work it out together. I waited in agony for any kind of response, just some inkling that we were okay. 

Eddie swallowed thickly, rising up from his spot in front of me and over towards my dresser to retrieve his keys.

“I need to go.”

I panicked as he walked through my doorway. I was on my feet in a flash, my heart pounding in my chest as I gripped onto his wrist to hold him in place.

“Eddie..please. Don’t go. Look I..I-I’m sorry, I should’ve told you sooner. I was just..Eddie please stay. Come on, we still have to celebrate don’t we?”

“Not tonight, Y/N.”

I was beginning to hate my own name the more Eddie said it. He hardly ever called me by my name, and hadn’t since we first met. It was always a sweet pet name. Eddie using my name only shot my anxiety further through the roof, and kept chipping away at my strength. Every step he took towards the door, every dull, monotonous repetition of my name was another crack in my heart. 

I surged in front of him, placing my palms against his chest and used all the strength I had to keep him in place. For a second I was a scared little four year old girl again, begging my dad to stay. I was on the verge of tears and I didn’t care how desperate I looked in front of him. I couldn’t let him go without knowing we were okay.

“Eddie..please. Please just..just tell me it’s okay. Please? We’re okay, right? I can’t let you walk out like this..Eddie please.”

Eddie closed his eyes as he tried to compose himself, setting his jaw in a hard line. I could feel the shuddering breaths he was taking with my hands still fixated on his chest. When he opened his eyes again, they were pleading with mine. He gently wrapped his hands around my wrists to pry my hands away, slowly moving them to hang by my sides.

“I..I need time to think.”

Eddie closed the front door quietly, but it roared in my ears. There was a finality to it that was the final crack in my chest. He didn’t say it. He didn’t say we were okay. I didn’t feel the sting of the cold tile biting at my knees as I fell to the floor. I didn’t register the sound of my mom's keys jangling in the lock twenty minutes later. I could hardly hear her voice as she held me in her arms and I clutched at my chest, trying desperately but failing to explain what was happening through tears. That was the second time Eddie Munson had left me in a crumpled mess on the floor.

I called relentlessly over the next two days. The only person I ever got on the phone was Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, who kept apologetically informing me Eddie wasn’t available. I drove by his trailer several times, hoping to just get a glimpse of him, but his van wasn’t there and neither was he. Sleep evaded me as I constantly pondered where he was, what he was doing, who he was with. I was turning myself into a pathetic mess over it. I tried to stay positive, not assume the worst for once. He’s just upset. He was caught off guard, that’s all. He just needs time.

I barely slept a wink Sunday night, even getting to the library at 6:30 instead of my usual 7:15. I chewed at my nails as I watched the clock hands ticking by, my head shooting over towards the front doors at the slightest sound. 

7:30 7:40 7:50 8:00.

The first warning bell sounded at 8:30 and I felt my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. He didn’t show. I sat there, frozen in the reality of the situation. I didn’t move until the late bell sounded. I barely made it through my first class, rushing immediately towards Mrs. O’Donnell’s classroom before second period started.

“Mrs. O’Donnell! Have you seen Eddie? I didn’t see him this morning so I wasn’t sure if he was sick or-”

“Oh dear, didn’t he tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Silly boy, must have forgot. He is a forgetful one, you know. You don’t have to tutor Mr. Munson anymore, Y/N. There’s only a handful of assignments left this semester, and even if he fails those, he’s still out of my classroom come June.”

“Oh..he um..yeah. Must have slipped his mind to tell me the..good news.”

The severity of the situation was finally starting to sink in. Eddie wasn’t answering my calls. Eddie wasn’t home when I went to see him. Eddie didn’t show up to tutoring this morning. Eddie doesn’t need me to tutor him anymore. He had finally gotten out of the one thing that brought us together. He doesn’t want to see you. 

I decided to hear the message loud and clear instead of embarrassing myself even further. The last thing I needed was for Eddie to add “clingy” to the list of growing reasons to avoid me right now. I didn’t go to the cafeteria for lunch. I didn’t wait by Eddie’s locker for him after class. I didn’t wait by his van in the back parking lot so he could take me home from school. For the first time in weeks I walked home. Alone.

I thought Monday had been brutal, but Tuesday and Wednesday weren’t any more forgiving. I tried to distract myself as much as possible, but it was no use. Eddie had become the center of my universe, my sun. And without him, everything felt dull and cold. I was mindlessly swapping out my textbooks when a familiar pair of brown eyes met mine once I shut my locker door. I jumped in surprise, clutching my books to my chest. 

Eddie.

He was staring at me, that goddamn unreadable look on his face again. I hated that look. I hated not being able to see through him like he could me. I stared at him wordlessly, afraid to be the first one to speak. His lips parted slightly as he sighed, gesturing his head towards the door that led outside.

“Can you meet me at my spot in the woods after school?”

My spot.

My stomach was in knots. I didn’t trust myself to speak, afraid that my voice would betray me, so I settled for nodding my head slowly. Eddie continued to stare at me for a moment, eventually dropping his gaze and nodding back. As quick as he had been there, he was gone. I felt like I was going to throw up. That queasy feeling lingered in my stomach the rest of the afternoon, and the final bell sent me into a panic. 

My hands were shaking as I walked across the football field, through the clearing to a path in the woods. There was a spot that had a picnic table no one knew about, except Eddie. Well..Eddie and all his “clientele”. He had brought me here a few times when we were supposed to be studying, but ended up making out instead. Eddie had declared it our hiding place. 

He was waiting for me already. His hands were folded in front of him on the picnic table. There was a far away look in his eyes as he stared straight ahead. He almost looked..remorseful. The panic began to bubble inside me once again. I wanted to turn around and run. I considered it actually, but a broken branch had alerted Eddie of my presence and now his gaze was fixated slowly on me. I froze. My heart was pounding so loudly in my chest I was sure Eddie could hear it in the silence.

“Hey.”

I don’t remember a time I ever felt nervous around Eddie, at least not in a bad way. I had never felt this tense around him, or this scared. Eddie’s eyes shifted up and down my form, eventually settling back on mine. I couldn’t move. If I sat down, I had to face reality. If I ran, I could avoid it. But for how long? Eddie sighed as he leaned back slightly, rubbing his palms over his jeans.

“Are you gonna sit? Or..do I need to come to you?”

I lightly clenched my fists at my sides to get them to stop shaking. Keeping my head down, I took slow strides over towards the picnic table, sitting on the opposite side of Eddie. I folded my hands in my lap and stared down at the faded wood in front of me. There was a rusted nail coming out of placement.

“Y/N.”

Fuck. This was it. My face felt hot and my throat was dry. I could feel that familiar lump blocking off my airway. Wet tears rimmed my eyes and threatened to spill at any moment. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t look at him. All I could do was close my eyes and hope this would be over quickly. I heard him let out a deep sigh across from me, and the sound of his metal rings dragging over the wood as he extended his hand.

“Sweetheart.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. That one little use of a pet name had me reeling, feeling the slightest twinge of hope that maybe this wouldn’t end badly. The dam had broken, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Tears were falling over each other in waves, but there was something off about the way he said it. It wasn’t warm. It was..detached. I pulled away from his grasp as he sat down next to me to wrap his arm around my shoulder. Even his touch was cold. 

“Baby..I need you to listen to me, please. Can you do that for me?”

His voice was tender as he spoke, like the way you might speak to an upset child. I had a gut feeling I knew what he was about to say. I could feel it. I just needed to get the words out to change his mind..but I couldn’t find them. I finally opened my eyes to look up at Eddie, finding that his eyes were shining with regret. I held back a choked sob as I suddenly reached out to grip onto his hand tightly.

“Please..”

Eddie shook his head slowly, wiping at his own cheeks before bringing his large hands up to cup my face. He brushed his thumbs lightly over my cheekbones, leaning in to brush his nose along mine softly.

“I need you to hear me out, alright?”

I let out a shaky breath as I nodded quickly, gently grabbing onto Eddie’s wrists to keep him close. I was afraid if I let go, he would disappear. He pulled back slightly so that he could look into my eyes.

“I care about you, more than anything. More than I ever thought I could possibly care about someone. I want you to know that.”

“I do, Eddie. I swear.”

“I am so fucking glad I met you, I am. Not just because you helped me when no one else would, but because you’ve been the biggest source of light in my life. The one good thing I could always count on. No matter what kind of shit day I was having, or what was going on, all I had to do was see that pretty face, and all the other shit just slipped away. You make me so fucking happy, Y/N.”

“You make me so happy too, Eddie. I feel like the luckiest girl in the world with you.”

“And I want you to know how fucking proud of you I am. Because I’m so fucking proud. You are so damn smart, and kind, and talented..and you deserve the world, angel. Nothing fucking less. But..I can’t give that to you.”

“Eddie-”

“Y/N, I’m not going to let you throw your future away because of me. You gave me a chance, to get the hell out of here and make something of myself. Now I have to do that for you. Because you are meant for so much more than this. You are so much bigger than this stupid fucking town. You have to get out, you have to go to New York, and you have to become someone..someone great. You have to live that life you always dreamed of, and I can’t stand in your way.”

“You’re not in my way, Eddie. You could never be in my way. I just..please I need you to understand-”

“Sweetheart, I can’t make it into college with my grades. I’ve got no fucking idea what I’m going to do once I graduate, but I am not dragging you down with me. I won’t.”

“You’re not..Eddie please, just listen to me.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Eddie please..please. I love you. Please..don’t do this. Just let me explain..please.”

Eddie gave me a sad smile that broke my heart. There was a pained look on his face as tears rolled down his own cheeks, leaning in to gently press his lips against mine. I could taste the salt from his tears, and it only made me cry harder. This was going to be our last kiss. Eddie was saying goodbye.

“I know..I know, angel. I love you, so fucking much. Which is why I have to let you go. I can’t be the one to ruin your dreams, I would never forgive myself. I love you too much to do that, and as much as I want to be selfish, I can’t. I always knew deep down..that you were..you were too good for me. I tried to ignore it as much as I could, I really did. I’ve only ever wanted the best for you..and as much as I wanted that to be me, and God did I fucking want it to be..it just isn’t.”

I wanted to scream at him, grab him by the collar of his shirt and scream until my lungs gave out that he was wrong..that he just didn’t understand. I just needed to make him understand. That unforgiving lump in my throat wouldn’t budge. Words teetering on the tip of my tongue escaped me. My chest felt tight, and I couldn’t breathe. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. This isn’t happening. 

I felt his lips ghost over my forehead, and then felt the emptiness of his touch. I felt like I was drowning. Everytime I gasped for air, another tide crashed over me and held me captive under the surface. I could feel water filling my lungs, taking over the space my oxygen once resided. Everything around me was spinning and I felt like I might pass out.

“You’re gonna do big things, angel. Big fucking things. Please..remember that I love you. I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m..I’m so fucking sorry.”

I didn’t move for five hours. I just sat there..frozen. Everytime I thought I couldn’t possibly shed any more tears, a fresh batch fell from my eyes. I went through alternating intervals of pain and numbness. Every now and then, I would feel nothing. A shallow, abandoned house..one gust of wind away from falling apart. Then the pain would start back up, spreading like a virus, until it was everywhere. I felt it ache in my bones. I didn’t know which was worse. The absence of him, or the incessant reminder that he was real. That he had been here. And that he wasn’t coming back.

I didn’t even flinch when I felt a hand grab onto my shoulder, shining a flashlight in my direction. I barely heard Nancy yelling to the other members of my search party that she had found me. I stared blankly at her as she shook me by the shoulders, shouting words my brain couldn’t bother to process. I didn’t look up when Robin and Steve emerged from behind her, flashlights in hand and genuine expressions of concern. I had completely shut down. 

Nancy’s fury slowly melted into apprehension. She carefully sat down in front of me, unease written all over her face as she took my hand into hers, gently calling my name to get my attention. All at once, the agony collided so hard into my chest it knocked the breath out of me. I clutched at my chest as I hunched over, sobs wracking violently throughout my entire body. Nancy didn’t hesitate to pull me in, coddling my head against her chest as she rocked me slowly, brushing my hair out of my face that had been glued by my tears. She shared a knowing look between Robin and Steve, silently delegating to the two of them. 

“I’ll..go bring the car around. Steve..keys?”

Steve fished into his pocket for his keys, tossing them into Robin’s direction. Nancy sighed softly as she looked up at him, gesturing her head down towards me.

“Can you carry her, please?”

Steve handed off his flashlight to Nancy, tucking his arm under my knees and wrapping the other around my back. I didn’t hardly know Steve at all, and if I were in any other state of mind, I would probably be embarrassed he was having to carry me like this. But I didn’t care. Not one fucking bit. I couldn’t be bothered to care about anything else other than the tormented weight in my chest. I wrapped my arms around his neck and hid my face into his chest, crying shamelessly as if he was an old friend I had known my whole life.

“Shh, it’s alright Y/N. I got you. We’re gonna take you home, alright?”

I didn’t wanna let go. I didn’t want to feel that ache of emptiness again. I couldn’t bear it. I needed something to grip onto to tether me to the surface before I went under again. I didn’t let go of Steve the entire ride to my house, or when he carried me through the door to face my incandescent mother, or even when he laid me down in my bed. I couldn’t let go. My grip on his jacket only tightened when he went to move, a broken whimper coming from my chest.

“Alright..alright. I won’t go, I promise. I’ll stay right here. Nancy’s here too, and Robin. We’ll all just have a little slumber party. You know what, Y/N, you’re actually making one of my wildest dreams come true. I get to have a sleepover with three chicks. Can cross that off my bucket list.”

“Steve, shut the hell up.”

“Relax, Nance. I’m just trying to get her to laugh.”

If I hadn’t been reduced to a fragile shell of the girl I was several hours ago, I would’ve laughed, much to Nancy’s dismay. I would have laughed and apologized to Steve for being so high maintenance. I would have told him how much I appreciated him being there for me, even though he didn’t know me. I would have apologized to Nancy and my mom for making them worry sick about where I was. I would have apologized to Robin for getting her dragged into my mess. I would have been able to function and use my words and explain to everyone what was going on.

But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even cry anymore. I felt hollow, like everything good inside me had been carved out. I didn’t fight sleep this time. I surrendered and let it take over, coaxing me under into a brief semblance of peace. It seemed even my brain and subconscious knew better than to twist the knife because for the first time in months, I didn’t dream of Eddie Munson.

[blindingdutchy]

Hey, how's your day going? I hope good? Look I'm constantly thinking about water and Tom, like how beautiful is he in water, all wet and well... hot!? Could you please write something about Tom x reader in water? Like bathtub, pool, lake whatever? Tbh I need smut, don't judge me it's been a while 😄 Anyways, could he just fuck me nice and gently and then rough and fast just to be again very gentle at the end or afterwards? Hope you'll feel inspired and do something with it. :)

please this made me so happy wtf

summer nights | t.holland

{tom x fem!reader}

word count: 2,861

warnings: you already know… smut

warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), fingering, alcohol

“Can we stay here forever?”

Tom’s eyes were sparkling and hazy as he admired you, a wan smile stretching minutely across his face. His teeth practically glowed in the moonlight, and for a brief moment your breath hitched as you gazed at him. He was too beautiful for his own good. “I really wish we could.” he hummed a quiet response.

The night was silent apart from the faint ripple of water that lapped around the two of you, soft billows of steam wafting from the surface and fading away into the air. Tom’s arm was wrapped tightly around your waist, his fingers slipping and sliding across your bare skin as he struggled to keep hold in his slightly intoxicated state. In his other hand was a corona, the glass bottle dripping slow, cold raindrops of condensation into the warm pool—he brought the bottle to his lips and skulled the rest of it before clinking it onto the concrete behind him.

You hadn’t expected to enjoy your impromptu vacation as much as you were, because things generally always went wrong whenever the two of you tried to be spontaneous, but so far things had gone swimmingly. The condo he’d rented was just as private and secluded as it had advertised, no work emergencies had interrupted the sudden holiday on either of your behalves, and even the weather had been cooperatively perfect. Hot, sunny day after day, followed by warm, clear, moonlit nights—you felt as if you could see every star in the sky from here.

None of them compared to the stars in Tom’s eyes, though. Here, in this impeccably warm and deep pool, it was just the two of you; no friends or family, no work or other obligations, no fans… just two lovers wrapped up in the serenity of total, blissful privacy. You hadn’t been able to keep your hands off of each other.

Only on that first day had you ventured to the beach, but the excursion had been short lived to say the least. One look at you in your bikini, your skin positively radiant under the summer sun, and he’d been sweating. Your smile had been absolutely dazzling as you laughed and played around gleefully, splashing in the churning waves that crashed ashore, and he could barely hold himself back from taking you right then and there—innocent bystanders be damned.

Since then you’d spent the majority of your time in bed. Or, alternatively, on the balcony, the plush sofas of the patio, the hard concrete that surrounded the pool, the granite countertops of the kitchen, the shower, and that glorious hot tub. Oh, the hot tub had been your favorite by far—steaming hot water only contested only by steamier kisses across your skin, Tom’s scorching breath and searing words moaning down your ear…

It had turned into a bit of an unspoken mission to have each other in every place that allowed. All that remained was the furniture of the living room, the small dining table, and the pool. The pool which you were submerged in now, your legs wrapped around Tom and his hand gripping your waist tightly, fingers occasionally brushing over the waistband of your swimsuit bottoms. As your thoughts drifted further south, your legs tightened around him.

Tom was leaning his head back against the ledge of the pool, his eyes closed and his breathing slow as he relaxed into the warm water. The relaxation didn’t last for long, though, as you leaned forward and trailed a slow line of kisses down his throat. His breathing sharpened, and you whispered, “Tommy, we haven’t tried the pool yet.”

He blinked down at you, his warm brown eyes taking a moment to focus on your face that was just barely illuminated from the pool lights and the soft beams of the moon. “Oh, really?” he murmured, and his irises darkened at the way you sucked at the skin of his neck teasingly slow, “I think we’ll have to change that.”

It didn’t take long for him to take control. He never did like to let you call the shots, and you weren’t opposed to submitting to his whims; he knew how to please you better than anyone ever had before, sometimes even better than you knew how to treat yourself. Each desire that coursed within him was the same ache that throbbed within your pulse points, the same pang that always sparked to life in your core each time he touched you. You longed for him, all of him, always.

Sliding you further around his waist, Tom turned until he’d backed you into the wall of the pool and his steadily growing length was rutting lazily into your center. Your mind was spinning with the dull stimulation, and you hissed as the rough, painted concrete irritated the old scrapes on your back from when the two of you had checked off the concrete patio on your list. That had been a fun time—rough and messy, just how you liked it, but you’d sorely regretted it the moment a hot shower had seared the little abrasions on your skin.

“I love this bikini on you,” Tom whispered, trailing one finger along the damp shell of fabric that covered your breast, “but I think I like it better off.” You barely noticed the deft way the fingers of his other hand were steadily working to untie your top, until the scrap slipped away from your skin and you were exposed fully to the cold air. “Definitely better off.”

Your nipples hardened into stiff peaks instantaneously, the slightly cooler night air chilling you and erupting goosebumps along your flesh. It was nothing compared to the shivers that wracked your body as Tom’s lips finally found one of your pebbled buds, sucking languidly and swirling his tongue around it with a quiet groan. Your hands clung to his back and you threw your head back with a moan, already succumbing to the persistent throbbing between your legs with the first touch. He brought something out of you, a secret insatiable side of you that always wanted more. And now? As he reached a slightly pruned hand up to slick his wet, stretched curls from his face to get a better look at you? You were ravenous.

He looked like a god. His skin was bronzed to perfection, only amplifying the desirous way he glistened under the moon and stars, and you wished this moment could last forever. You wanted to take it all in, commit it all perfectly to memory, and never let it go. The way his arms rippled with strength as he held you tighter, the taught stretch of skin over his abdomen that tightened the more aroused he became, and the plump swell of his lips that deepened with each kiss he placed on your body. All of it was artwork in your eyes.

“Tom,” you breathed, arching your back as he continued to focus all his attention to the deep bruise he was creating with his lips just beneath your breast, “I need you, now.”

His tongue soothed over the mark he’d left, and he admired it briefly before turning his gaze onto your face. “You’re insatiable, darling.” he cooed, and you were done for. Tom’s eyes were all pupil with almost no discernable ring of honey brown left to be seen, and his lips were parted to make way for the sinful swipe of his tongue. He knew exactly what he did to you, the way he turned you into a total fiend for him, and fuck if he wasn’t much the same for you.

You’d always known you’d had a high sex drive, but he took you to another level. No time, no place, nothing at all was off limits for the two of you. Plans got cancelled, events skipped, and hidden corners and locked rooms were abused when it came to your needs. “You make me this way.” you retorted, and he grinned.

Lips met in a flurry, sloppy and wet with muffled groans as your teeth clashed roughly. The rapacious pace of your kisses contrasted with the slow, careful precision of Tom’s hands. One large, smooth palm groped at your ass with a skill that had you trembling, while the other leisurely traced a path down your body to your most desiring destination. Fingers ghosted along the swell of your breast, feathered down the length of your stomach, before tugging at the waistband of your bottoms.

Not wanting to lose his embrace, you blustered, “Just untie them, please.”

String bikinis were a godsend. He made quick pace of the knots you’d tied that morning, hissing curses to himself as he fumbled the strings and struggled slightly to undo them, “Shit, darling, did you double knot them?” With a growl of annoyance, he pulled hard until the thin bands finally snapped apart, “Fucking hell.”

In an instant his fingers were dipping into you, stretching you open with a desperate fervency. It stung a little, a dull ache permeating the pleasure, but that was to be expected. Not only were you sore from the gluttonous appetite the pair of you had had over the past week, but you were in water—it always made things a little more difficult. No matter how wet you were, water always made it feel just a little like rubber on rubber; sticking and straining, pulling a little uncomfortably with the resistance.

His thumb rubbing circles into your clit helped, though. He scissored and curled his fingers within your walls repeatedly, chasing after the little noises that escaped your lips when he moved just right. Before long, with the combination of his friction on your nub and his deep plunge through your entrance, your grip around him was tightening. The coil in your belly was white hot, heating up and just aching to explode.

“Gonna cum?” he murmured, his eyes flickering up to yours as you wrapped your body tighter around his. His fingers were fighting against the tight grip of your cunt, and you nodded with an airy gasp, “Come on, then. Cum on my fingers, (Y/N).”

As your name slipped from his mouth, you cried out. The coil in your belly snapped, your legs spasming at the sudden rush of pleasure that coursed through your veins. Your eyes squeezed shut and you clenched around him, moaning at the way he continued to flex his digits through the steady pulse of your walls. His thumb was still circling your bundle, albeit more jerkily, and you were panting as you tried to come down from the high that seemed to never end.

After a few seconds you gripped his wrist, pleading, “S-stop, too much.”

You breathed a sigh of relief when he stopped his assault, his fingers pulling out of you slowly and his mouth sucking at your neck. You could feel his erection digging into you, his hips subconsciously rutting into you, and he asked quietly, “Do you want to keep going?”

Nodding, you wound your fingers into the sopping curls at the base of his skull and cautioned, “Yeah, just be gentle, please.”

Tom hummed under his breath, nibbling at the sensitive skin behind your ear as he rocked his hips into you with more intention. You were dragging your hands over his skin slowly, digging your nails into all the places you knew riled him up the most, and your legs were still trembling slightly when he reached one arm down to fumble with his shorts. The garment floated away as he peeled it fully from his legs with the help of his feet.

Lining himself up, he peered up at you with quirked brows, “Ready?”

You pulled his face down to yours, nodding silently before you kissed him. This time it was tender and slow, your puffy lips molding together delicately in a lazy pace. He poked his tip through your entrance slowly, and you hissed at the initial intrusion. The water made it uncomfortable, making it feel as though he were actually going in dry, but the further he pushed the better it felt.

He rocked into you slowly, his nails digging into the skin of your bum as he restrained himself from taking you in one hard thrust like he always did. Slow and steady wasn’t exactly Tom’s preferred style. You were grateful, though, that he took care to move with caution and gave you time to adjust. His face was buried into your neck, his lips pressing a flurry of barely there kisses to your skin, and you shivered at the rapid puffs of his labored breathing on your body.

Tapping his shoulder to give him the okay to move, you whined at the first draw back. He pulled his hips back slowly, the length of his shaft dragging against your walls gratingly, and you whimpered when he pushed forward again just as deliberately. The normal slip of your arousal wasn’t there like it normally was, but when his tip plunged to that deep point that always made your body spark, you moaned.

Tom took your sounds for what they were and built up a steady pace, languidly fucking into you with choked grunts of restraint. The water was rippling around you, slapping gentle waves over the two of you with each motion, and you arched into him needily. “Tom, faster.” you begged, and he obliged.

His next thrust was harsher, his hips snapping into yours earning a high mewl from you. “Fucking love the sounds you make,” he growled, repeating the motion and groaning against your skin. His thrusts deepened with every push and pull, and before long your back was gritting into the concrete and you were crying out loud sounds mixed with pain and pleasure.

You loved this rough, aggressive side of him. The ache in your gut that always followed served as a loving reminder of the way he made you feel. The arcs of pleasure that radiated through your body each time he bruised into your spot, the slight sting of his nails and teeth biting into your skin, the deep bruises from his lips that lingered for weeks; you loved all of it. Your scraped up back was crying for mercy, though, but you ignored it.

Reaching a hand down, you toyed with your clit messily and relished in the guttural moan that tore up his throat. His eyes were trained on the space between you where he continued to disappear into your core, and watching you touch yourself always pushed him over the edge. “Shit,” he choked, “darling, ‘m not gonna last with you doing that.”

Kissing his shoulder, you whimpered, “I know, I want you to cum, Tommy.”

Your toes were curling as you circled your nub faster in time with his thrusts, and you clenched your eyes shut as you began to suck and bite at his skin. Tom was a moaning mess, his hips faltering slightly as you bit into him particularly hard, but he pushed on like his life depended on it. Your back was searing with pain from the way he rammed you into the pool wall over and over, your eyes rolling back at his brutal pace.

You were close, and as if he could sense it, Tom squeezed your ass and rutted into you harder than ever. “So close,” he whimpered, and you rubbed your clit with more conviction, “I wanna feel you cum f’me.”

With one last drawn out cry, your fingers stilled over your throbbing bundle and you shattered around him. All you could focus on was the sound of his ragged breathing and desperate pleas that barely rose above the crash of the water, your mind going blank in ecstasy. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—“ Tom gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes shut, his hips stilling against yours as he pulsed within you.

His length throbbed against your walls, the hot spurts of his cum stinging slightly as you continued to clench around him. Your head lolled against his shoulder as you panted, the heavy rise and fall of your chest matching the heave of his. Tom pulled out of you with a hiss, and you whined into his ear as he shuddered, “Shit, that’s cold.”

“Don’t look down,” he stammered, and you giggled, “I’ve never shrank so fast in my life, and… fuck, where are my shorts?”

You squeezed him tighter as you laughed, your fingers carding sleepily into his slowly air drying curls. “Tommy, you really think I care? Just take me inside, please, let’s go to bed.” You chortled, and he sighed a shaky laugh of his own.

He raked a hand through his hair and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, slowly easing you off of him as you shuddered. The water really was getting cold; a glance around showed that the steam was no longer billowing into the air. The heater must have turned off. When he craned his head to look for his shorts, you risked a peek and sputtered, “Wow, you weren’t kidding—“

“Hey! I told you not to look!”

[apocalypticgargoyle]

okay but imagine edgy!karl but with the spice of closer by nine inch nails just a thought

EVERYONE: WE'RE TAKING THE SONG AT FACE VALUE CHILLAX

edit by 🍭 anon. step on me.

𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞: "... 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐍𝐎 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 𝐓𝐎 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐋..." | 𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐲!𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐥

link for Closer by NIN

warnings: smut (18+), thigh riding, vulgar language, temperature play, degradation, domination/submission, phone sex, mentions of alcohol and drinking, frat boys, smoking (inc. weed)

enjoy these vignettes of straight-up filth

other requests:

sorry no thoughts just edgy karl in a band. in all seriousness though i would kill for a band au with anyone

edgy!karl and like temp play? his tongue piercing got extra cold from the ice in his drink or something and then kisses the readers neck or something and the reader shivers and then he gets ~ideas~

sitting on edgy!karls leg in front of the whole frat, just a normal get together until karl starts bouncing his leg

In honor of me losing my voice for 3 days now, can we have Edgy!Karl reacting to you losing your voice because of him? I've said my piece -🍭

Ahhhhh okay so I had this dream where it was edgy Karl but the reader was riding him while he had his arms crossed behind his head and he was smoking a cigarette and just AHHHH. Can you extend on this pwease? :3 -🐙

mk hear me out, edgy karl. Phone sex ?

do you think that for your edgy! Karl fic we could get some more sub! Karl like he gets so drunk and all he wants to do is please the reader - 🥪

intoxicated seggs with karl (obviously not blackout drunk, fully consensual etc)

You weren’t sure how you ended up where you were, or even how Karl ended up where he was, on stage with a guitar slung over his shoulder as if it were made for him. He had gotten a call earlier in the night from a friend of his whose guitarist came down with the flu, and Karl was the only one he knew who could take over on such short notice.

You weren’t even aware he could play, let alone how good he would look in a torn-up t-shirt, lip ring caught between his teeth as he mindlessly strummed along to the music, sweat pooling at his temples from the lights and the exertion. His eyes always darted to you, looking for your flushed appearance as floods of dark themes flooded into your consciousness.

Girls were practically throwing themselves at him, yet with you in the crowd, his lust-blown pupils marked you as his target. As the set drew on, Karl sipped from a beer like the rest of the band, a cigarette dangling from his lips as clouds of smoke mixed into the air of fog. Finally, a cover song came on, one that you knew well. Its heavy beat served as the background music as memories flooded into your mind from when the song had played for the two in the past...

YOU LET ME VIOLATE YOU / YOU LET ME DESECRATE YOU ... YOU LET ME COMPLICATE YOU

You poured yourself a drink as Karl stood beside you, popping an ice cube in his mouth. It was your roommate’s birthday; nothing but a small gathering with a handful of your friends and some music. “Are you iron deficient, Karl?” You queried sarcastically, a nod to his ice chewing habits and a strange visit from your family members.

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I already told your grandmother that I’m fine,” he grumbled, teeth crunching down on the cube as if to demolish the story, making you giggle. He moved to step around you, arm wrapping around your waist as he pressed a kiss to your neck, his tongue ring grazing against your skin. You bit back a moan, body shivering at the feeling and he chuckled against your shoulder. “You like that, baby?” He mocked; voice husky at his realization that such a little action could get you excited so easily.

Later that night, Karl traced a path down your body with an ice cube between his pearly white teeth, grey irises watching your every reaction as he stopped at the hemline of your underpants. He traced a line down the lacy garment as you arched your back before pushing himself up on his arms and pushing the cube into your mouth. “Hold that for me, pet,” he stated, breath hot against your cold, wet skin, begging to be touched. His tongue dragged across your collarbones, the cool of the metal in his mouth making you moan around the ice in your mouth, grinding your hips against his.

As his cold mouth pressed against your inner thighs, you bit down on the cube, shattering it in your mouth as Karl chuckled. “We’re gonna have a fun night,” he promised, cold teeth nipping at your flesh to make you whimper.

I’VE GOT NO SOUL TO SELL … HELP ME GET AWAY FROM MYSELF

The club bathroom was dingy and dimly lit, but the cleanliness was the last thing on your mind as your fingers curled around the skin, Karl’s hand wrapped around your throat as he thrust into you roughly. Your makeup was running down your face from his spit and your sweat. The bass of the music was loud enough that it echoed around in the bathroom, setting Karl’s rhythm to his animalistic paces.

You smiled lazily, bliss covering your fucked out expression as he smirked at you in the reflection of the mirror with pride to see you in such a mess at his antics. His blunt nails dug into your hip, slamming your body against him as he used you like some kind of toy. His hand controlled your breathing, making you gasp for air as you rolled your hips against him, calling out his name loud enough to ricochet around the room.

The next morning, you went to answer Karl’s question about what you wanted for breakfast when your voice came out in barely a whisper. You shut your eyes in embarrassment with a hand closing over your mouth as his eyebrows raised at you. “What was that, baby? Let me hear you,” he mocked, walking over to press his thumb against your throat.

You shook your head, refusing to let him gloat about you losing your voice moaning his name the night before. He kissed you roughly, tongue pressing into your mouth to lap at your weak moans. His teeth dragged across your lips. “I said, I wanna hear you. I wanna be reminded how you lost your voice,” he stated darkly, a smug expression plastered across his face.

I WANNA FUCK YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL / I WANNA FEEL YOU FROM THE INSIDE

With the party thundering into the night, you swiveled through the crowd of people grinding on each other, plastic cup in your hand as you returned to where Karl and a few of the other frat brothers were sitting. He pulled you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you as you handed him the drink and picked your cards back up.

You’d been playing strip poker with the other guys, who were mainly drunk out of their mind and half-naked anyway. It also helped that Karl would whisper in your ear to guide you into burning and showing the right cards. He once told you about the group of men that taught him how to play during a trip to his father’s favorite country club.

His legs spread a bit more beneath you, shifting you in his lap to sit on his leg. Shamefully, your breath hitched in your chest, a blush spreading to your cheeks as your nails dug into his arm as if to tell you to stop. He tensed slightly before realizing that the only reason you reacted was because the friction was almost a tension reliever for you. You were already riding on your winning streak, but the last thing you could handle was the feeling of his thigh between your legs and in front of all the men drugged out on smoke and hard liquor.

Karl’s lips pressed to the back of your ear, his hand moving to switch a few of your cards around while the other gripped your waist. As you won the next hand, Todd dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it behind him, rolling his eyes playfully before dropping backward and mumbling about taking a nap before he was dealt in again.

You giggled at him, only for Karl to move his thigh, dragging you against him. You peered over your shoulder slightly, glaring at him as if to tell him to cut it out, but he just smirked at you, holding your hips as he bounced his leg. His lips pressed against your shoulder. “Either you get yourself off or I get you off,” he taunted, the friction making you moan quietly.

MY WHOLE EXISTENCE IS FLAWED / YOU GET ME CLOSER TO GOD

Karl turned the radio up, tucking his hands behind his head as you dug into his jacket pocket for his lighter. You had him between your thighs, his fingers dragging up your skirt as you took the joint from behind his ear and brought it to your lips, lighting it and inhaling. Something flashing behind Karl’s eyes as you cracked his window. He grabbed your face before you could exhale, making you shotgun the smoke into his mouth. You moaned at the feeling of the drug seeping into your mind as well as Karl feeding off of your high.

He exhaled before pulling you in for a hungry kiss, moaning against your lips and digging his fingers into your thighs. You pulled away from him, pushing him back against the seat and handing him the joint before unzipping his pants. You dug your teeth into his bottom lip as you sank down on his hardened arousal, moaning at the tightening feeling. He groaned, his hand groping your ass to urge you to ride him.

He pulled away from your kiss, resting the joint between his lips as he tucked his hands behind his head. Your hands pushed into his jacket, sliding beneath his shirt as you rolled your hips against his. You pulled your fingers into your hair, tugging at the strands as one of his hands moved to brush below the hem of your shirt, moving to press his fingers into your back.

He watched you intently, teeth biting into his lower lip to keep himself quiet as you moaned. Euphoria spread across his face to mix with the cloud of smoke from the weed. You kissed him again, his tongue ring pressing into your mouth with a groan as you rode him harder, clawing at the friction and moaning at the feeling of his hands on your body.

YOU CAN HAVE MY ABSENCE OF FAITH / YOU CAN HAVE MY EVERYTHING

“What are you wearing?” Karl asked, voice low and tired from the day of traveling; static from the interference on the phone line giving his tone the feeling of an old recorded message. He’d left earlier in the week, leaving after spending the weekend with you to get back home for his brother’s birthday. He’d nearly kidnapped you from your studies to go with him, but with the impending exams, there was no way you could get away.

You plugged in your headphones, moving to lay on your back as you realized what he was up to. “I’m wearing socks,” you stated sarcastically, making him laugh on the other end of the call. You knew he’d be scrubbed of his alternative appearance while in his mother's house. Your mind wandered to how weird it felt to kiss him without his piercings.

He hummed. “Only socks?” He chippered, playful lust dripping from his words as he spoke. You pressed your fingers against your bottom lip, trying your hardest to remember what it felt like with his teeth biting into your skin.

“I’m wearing your shirt, too,” you added; moving your fingers to toy with the hem of the dark t-shirt. You hadn’t even thought twice when you slipped it on earlier. Only now did you realize how nearly pathetic it was after he’d been trapped in your bed hours prior.

He chuckled darkly. “Oh, yeah? You miss me at all?” He chided, making you chew the inside of your cheek. “Come on, tell me how much you miss me, baby.”

You were silent for a moment, his raspy voice sending heat throughout your body. You tried to picture him buried in your hair as he spoke to you, his fingers brushing beneath your clothing in the dark. “I miss you,” you hummed. “It’s cold here alone.” You chewed your lip, you were never good at dirty talk. You could hear your roommate and her group of friends downstairs giggling as they turned on some music, the lyrics drifting through the air vents.

Karl tsked. “I think that’s a lie. I know it’s warm between your legs, dove,” he answered coolly, making your cheeks flush. “Fuck, I want you,” he groaned, your eyes fluttering at his low tone as goosebumps spread across your body.

“Keep talking,” you whispered, your fingers itching to dip beneath the waistband of your underwear.

You could tell he was biting back a smug groan at your quiet plea. “You want me to walk you through touching yourself?” He almost growled. “I wanna hear you cum for me.”

I DRINK THE HONEY / INSIDE YOUR HIVE / YOU ARE THE REASON / I STAY ALIVE

The two of you stumbled into Karl’s room, the sound of music from the party drowning out slightly as he kicked the door shut, pressing his lips against yours as you tugged off his clothes. The back of your legs hit his bed frame, the pair of you tangling together before you rolled on top of him. He pulled your shirt over your head, hands settling on your hips to urge you to grind against him.

The taste of the liquor on his lips sent your head reeling as his cologne and the smell of cigarettes clouded your already muddled senses. Your fingers raked down his tattooed chest, making him groan, his eyes looking up at you submissively.

Whenever Karl was drunk, he always bent to your whim. His dominant mind seemed to flip a switch and all he wanted was to make you feel good. He wanted to be used by you like he always used you.

Heat flushed to your cheeks from the alcohol; you’d beaten Todd in beer pong, again, but that didn’t mean you didn’t have to down a few shots to level the playing field. Your mouth pressed to his again, tugging his pants down his legs before sinking down on him as he moaned deeply.

As you rode him, he moved your hand from off his neck, taking your thumb into his mouth; the metal of his tongue ring swirling against your thumb as his teeth grazed your skin. You moaned at the sight, moving your hand to settle in his hair, tugging his head to the side as your teeth dug into his neck, marking him with your mouth.

He pulled your hips against his, driving himself into you deeper as he thrust against you, making you groan against his skin. You kissed him, driving your tongue into his mouth as you savored his moans of arousal at the feeling of you.

You moved to sit up again, letting the music set your pace as Karl titled his head back in pleasure, teeth tugging his lip ring into his mouth. You clenched around him, just because you knew you could draw him over the edge before you, but his eyes flickered with a willingness to hold out that licked at the fire of determination building your tension.

He sent you a lazy smirk before reaching a thumb between your thighs from where his hands were gripping onto your hips; toying at your nerves and making your vision blur with how good he was making you feel. “You’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, hips rolling against yours. You pressed your mouth to his again, basking in the taste of his words and the liquor that had melted against his tongue; ready the man between your legs to completely ruin you.

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Chances Are Masterlist

[perpetuelledaydreaming]

L.o.v.e.l.e.s.s. generation

Request: Amazing!! Can i ask for a billy hargrove imagine where he and the reader are together and at a party. They separate for like an hour so he goes with his friends for a while and shes with hers and she gets roofied. Steve and nancy try to help her and then call billy and hes a mess trying to get her to throw up and hes just blabbering and crying and mad af. So much angst and then fluff and yeah. 

@peakascum​ i’m so sorry for taking so looooong. 

words: 7.4 k

Summary: Billy has a bad feeling about a party at Tina’s and you don’t trust your gut feeling because of a kiss, Nancy can kick some ass and both, you and Billy, are the kind of people who cry in the shower. 

Warnings: *trigger warning* We have dark shit here, like pls people if any of your friends get too drunk or you think someone has put something in their drink GO TO THE HOSPITAL. Don’t follow the characters behaviour down below.

billy hargrove masterlist

"There’s a party at Tina’s tonight”, you muttered after disconnecting your lips from Billy’s, who had been more than happy on your make-out session in the parking lot of Hawkins High. 

You fluttered your eyes to watch your hot, hot, boyfriend who was perfectly placed between your legs while he kissed you softly. You weren’t sure how Billy kept his glowing tan all year long, especially in Hawkins but you loved how it combined with his blue electric eyes that pierced you every time he watched you. You removed some of the blonde locks falling on his forehead and placed another kiss on his full lips. 

Sometimes you didn’t know how you managed to snatch him. 

He sighed, “I heard, are you sure you want to go?”, he groaned as he tried to chase your lips once more but you stopped him as you jumped from the hood of the blue Camaro. 

“When does Billy Hargrove rejects a party?”, you asked while raising your brows. You picked up your bag from the floor and began fixing your skirt and sweater, you had to be ready for the debate team meeting while he rolled his eyes. 

You smiled but you turned around as you heard a couple of girls from Billy’s friend group nattering about you from afar as they saw Billy pulling you in once more for another kiss. 

See, how could you even start to recount your relationship with Billy Hargrove? it was hard. Not because it was a difficult relationship, but because you two seemed so different from the outside that sometimes people didn’t even believe that you had lasted so long in the first place. Billy and you had been going strong for over eight months now and it felt like you were on cloud nine. 

He was mesmerized by you since his first day of school, he wasted no time in asking you for a date -to the disapproval of his new gang and the dismay of most of the girls at the school- you were elated by it but you said that he needed to do a lot more if he wanted you to say yes. It wasn’t that you weren’t oblivious to Billy’s charm but you knew his type and he was definitely not on yours. 

Billy didn’t seem more than an aggressive jog and you bore those type of guys, they weren’t stimulating and you had learned to value yourself and your time, more than anything else. So, it took Billy time -with a lot of rejected attempts and multiple pairings on classes- to actually get a yes from you. 

And so, you had come to learn that Billy Hargrove was more than he showed and it hit you to the core because you did the same. They were just different acts, both of you were familiar with the fact that people liked to put tags on others, to label them and keep them in a box, they liked making you one dimensional for them to feel comforted in a stupid status quo. And both of you followed swiftly because sometimes is easier to play a role than to be yourself, it’s easier to make people believe you are one thing. Sometimes it was easier to be just a good girl and sometimes it was easier to be just a bully, but you weren’t that and neither was Billy. 

Billy Hargrove wore his heart on his sleeve and no one had noticed that, you instead kept it locked in a safe to survive and no one had noticed that. 

But Billy noticed your lock and you noticed his sleeve, he understood you and you understood him. 

After hours or even whole nights talking to each other, laughing, even crying you finally agreed to go out with him. 

“I always want to do whatever you want to do”, he whispered to your lips as he pressed quick pecks. You sighed into his lips; eyes closed in bliss as his lips touched yours. “Pick you at nine?”

You smiled as you heard him and your lips now were chasing his. 

…

“See you in an hour or so?”, you asked as you opened the door for Tina’s house, Billy was behind you. Both of you were analyzing the scene in front of you. 

There were a lot of people, far more than what you were expecting but it was the last Friday before Thanksgiving break so you kinda got it. Many of the kids that went away for college were coming back to see their families and since Tina’s parties were always a staple of Hawkins High, you knew most of them wouldn’t miss it. So, there it was: an ocean of sweaty and drunk teenagers and young adults having fun and blasting music.  

You turned around to see a frown on Billy’s face as he saw the scene while you rolled your eyes. You didn’t really know why he was so opposed to partying when he was always down for any type of rave. 

See, although both of you were so similar in many senses, it wasn’t at all the case when you were partying. Billy was the type of guy who liked the attention, he craved it and he found it most of the time in senseless partying. While you, you were the type of girl who liked to be lowkey about your presence at a party, if you had the attention it was from your amazing dancing skills. Otherwise, you liked to spend your parties taking a few shots, dancing, and talking to your friends; nothing more and nothing less. Billy, instead, liked to do his keg stands and playing games, getting a bit more than tipsy. 

Most of the time you were together months of your relationship you both had made sacrifices, sometimes Billy wouldn’t do his normal circus act so he could be in a more calm conversation with you, and sometimes you had decided to cheer him when he was doing his keg stands or accomplishing the dares his stupid friends wanted him to do.

And it was fine, except for the fact that you had exploded one Monday a few months ago when you heard the rumors about the past party, especially the rumor about the “Queen of Hawkins” and how everyone was beginning to think that you were nothing more than a pretty thing that Billy wore around his arm, an accessory. You hated it, you hated it so much that you had ended up ranting about it to Billy who had been patient and listened to every single word without saying much. 

“I’m fucking captain of the debate team, since when I’m an accessory?”, “I’m running for president of the student council, does it look like I care about being Queen of Hawkins?”, “I’m not clingy or sticking to you all the time, it was just one party!”

And so, you had come up with the party plan. It was really simple: As soon as you got to the party, each one would go and do their thing. Billy would go out and play games while you hang out with Steve and Nancy and Johnathan. If there were any good songs or if you were craving each other presences, you would find each other and would dance for a couple of songs or maybe have a little (long) time out inside any room available where you could moan each other’s name. It had worked on the parties that you had gone to for the last few months and it had been fine, most of the time after you found each other you wouldn’t let go.

Today had to be no different, another party at Tina’s, usual business. 

But you knew it wasn’t, Billy turned around to see you with narrowed blue electric eyes, brows bumped together in a scowl and lips pressed together. 

“Billy?”

“I’m not really feeling like partying”, he muttered as he sighed and took a hold of your waist and pulled your flesh against his. 

Sometimes you were more than sure that Billy’s arms were made perfectly for you, you loved being held by him, and feeling like nothing in the world could hurt you. Being held by his biceps and pressed against him always made your heart skip a bit, you didn’t even think twice as you quickly took a hold of his face and you pressed your lips urgently against his, making you whimper into his lips. It was intoxicating the dance between your lips and tongues, you sometimes even got dizzy after kissing Billy but you were more than happy to get drunk on him rather than on vodka. 

But today you wanted to hang out with Nancy, Johnathan, and Steve, you hadn’t been seeing them much since school started again since, well, Billy was a handful. 

“I’ll see you later sir”, you whispered as you gave him the last peck and walked away from him with a smile on your lips. 

Billy stayed stunned after a few seconds and cursed to himself but he knew that you were in the mood for partying and the least he could do was give you space to be by yourself, to have times with your friends. He didn’t want to admit it but he had taken a lot of your time the past few weeks, he had wanted to take advantage of his father leaving Hawkins for a work trip, so he had spent most of his time buried inside of you or sleeping next to you or laughing with you, etc. And he wanted tonight to be no different, but he also respected you and your wishes. So, although he wasn’t too excited, he managed himself. He quickly threatened his way to get a whole bottle of tequila and went outside where Tommy and Carol were waiting for him already. 

“You look stunning!”, Nancy gasped as she saw you, you twirl so they could give a look at your outfit: A tight black leather skirt, military boots, and a cutout band t-shirt from Billy. 

Steve and Jonathan cheered for you as you moved your hips and Nancy clapped, while you then twirl her around for her to model her outfit. 

“You look stunning all the time!”, you replied as you hugged Nancy. 

“That’s indeed true”, Johnathan muttered as he pulled in Nancy for a kiss on her forehead while she wrapped one arm around him, quickly pulling him into a passionate kiss.

Steve rolled his eyes as he got closer to you, “Are we going to dance?”, he whispered in your ear and it made you shiver. 

You couldn’t lie that you had a thing for Steve when you were younger than you were less than thrilled when he started dating Nancy but as time passed, your feelings had changed and Steve became just a great friend in your eyes. Although, it didn’t mean that sometimes Billy didn’t get jealous of him and how close you two were. But he had come to accept it, as he should, and Steve also started to deal with Billy by your request since he didn’t really like him after he had dethroned him as King of Hawkins. 

“Yes, we are”, you replied and quickly pulled Steve into the living room where everyone else was dancing. 

The way you felt the music cruising through your body made you get lost on it, eyes closed and jumping, swaying your hips to the beat, laughing, and smiling all along. Should I stay or Should I go from The Clash was the tenth song you had danced to with Steve and you were sweating from bopping your head to the last bit, throat a little bit sore from screaming the lyrics at the top of your lungs. 

Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pressed a kiss on the top of your head. “I forgot how good it was to dance with you, Y/L/N”, you nodded without much breath but you turned around to see one of the boys from Billy’s group watching you with malice. The narrowed eyes and puckered lips weren’t anything new for you, especially from his “friends” or followers, but you knew how much they would like to initiate any rumor that could create any drama in Hawkins since they didn’t have anything more exciting to do. 

“I’m going to get something to drink”, you muttered as you glared at the loser who had been watching Steve and you, but soon he turned to the patio, where you imagined Billy was. 

You rolled your eyes; you knew you had to do damage control with Billy. Although Billy seemed like he had all the confidence in the world, you knew deep down he was insecure thanks to his relationship with his father, and especially, as months had passed by, he was insecure about your relationship sometimes. It seemed to him that you could do so much better and he was perpetually on edge when he thought about you and Steve too much, although he trusted you completely. 

And on your part, it wasn’t too different, Billy had girls throwing themselves at him permanently which was always annoying, girls who whispered at him that they would make him feel so much better than you ever did and that they wished he could make them scream. Billy had assured you and showed you that he only had eyes with you, and it did become funny sometimes because if there was someone in love with his girlfriend was Billy Hargrove. But still, sometimes that burning feeling that crept its way your heart and spread it through your body, making you feel like you could spitfire didn’t go away.

Especially not at the moment. 

Billy was outside, playing a nice game of beer pong and chugging more beer than you thought he would like tonight, but there he was… with Heather freaking Miller. She was leaning into a flustered Billy as she giggled while he poured the beer on his mouth, a little bit too fast that it made the drink spill all over his naked chest -he always lost some buttons or his shirt at some point in a party-, you imagined that he was a bit tipsy at the moment but you couldn’t help to feel your stomach twisting as you saw Heather pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. 

You spun on your heels faster than you could even imagine, not even wanting to watch Billy’s reaction to her kiss and if you had been a bit drunker, you might have been bold enough to start going off at her and Billy. But you weren’t in the mood, to hell if Billy was told something about Steve, whatever. 

“You said something?”, a guy in the kitchen asked you, as you leaned on the kitchen island in front of the living room that served as the dance floor, realizing that you had been muttering out loud. There weren’t many people in the kitchen, the great majority of the people were dancing or outside, but there were two boys. 

You huffed as you turned around and saw the guy. He had short brown hair and a nice smile as he sipped from his red solo cup. He looked familiar and you remember him being a cheer on after a basketball game while you were a Sophomore at Hawkins High and he was a Senior. He was from an affluent family, you remembered that as well as you might have seen him in one of your parent's Christmas parties, but you weren’t social. 

“Do I know you?”, you asked a bit coldly, annoyed still at the image of Heather and Billy. 

“Burn!”, another boy close to the one that had just talked to you shouted as he laughed at his friend. You recognized him too, he was also known as a Senior when you were in Sophomore, he wasn’t on any team but he was on the popular crowd. 

You vaguely remember the class that had graduated that year, only remembered a few bullying incidents but mostly that they were sexist assholes. You hoped that college had changed them, at least you liked to believe people could mature, but seeing them three years later in a party of their high school didn’t give you much hope.

“I’m Brad”, the boy with short brown hair stated as you sighed and smiled, trying to be as polite as you could taking into account how mad you were. “This is Chad”, he said pointing to his friend. 

“Y/N”, you answer as you shook his hand as he had offered it. 

He held it for a bit too long and you felt goosebumps erupting on your skin, but they weren’t good goosebumps, the way he was looking at you was way too intently but you figured that he was trying to flirt and score a girl. 

“Brad! I just…”, another boy came from the living room with a bottle of tequila in his hand as the three of you turned around to watch him, you took the opportunity and removed your hand from his hold as your eyes began to look for some wine or vodka to take to Steve. “Who’s that?”, the same guy muttered as he got closer to Brad and Chad. 

“Shut up, Logan”, Brad rolled his eyes as he saw you reaching for a bottle of vodka, he quickly took it and then handed it to you with a strange smile. “You have to apologize, my friends, they are…”

“Wonderful?”, Logan said with a smirk.

“Charming?”, Chad answer as he seemed to be taking something from his Varsity Jacket, you didn’t manage to see really what he had since Brad quickly placed solo red cups for you to do shots in, blocking the view.

“Annoying”, he stated as he poured a bit of the vodka on two small cups and then passed the bottle to his friends. You smile at the way he said it, the guy had a charm but there was still a hint of something you didn’t like. Something that didn’t add up to his pretty greyish eyes or his sharp jaw. “Want one round?”

You sighed and nodded. At the moment, you only wanted a drink and don’t think a lot about Billy and Heather, you didn’t want to be too mad about it, especially since it was your idea to do a party plan and you left the road wide open for girls like Heather to flirt with Billy. 

It felt like it was your fault. 

“Sure”

The vodka burned your throat a little bit more than you would imagine but you didn’t care. It tasted okay enough and your eyes simply wondered towards the patio door, in the hopes that Billy might come looking for you but there was no sign of him coming. 

“You have a boyfriend?”, you heard Brad asking and you turned around as you passed a hand through your hair. You watched as Brad’s friends began pouring another round of shots with the vodka but your attention went right to Brad again. 

“I do, he’s with another girl at the patio”, you muttered angrily as you took a hold of the shot and chugged it right in. The vodka still burned on your throat but it now felt bubbly, still burned a bit more than before but you figured it was because you hadn’t been drinking in a while.  

“Ooh”, the two friends shouted and it made you roll your eyes, they weren’t being good company and you tried to snatch the bottle of vodka from the table where they had left it but Brad took it first. 

“Let’s do two more rounds, it will make you feel better”, he cooed as he got closer to you. 

If this was any other moment, at any other party, you would’ve said no and leave without a bottle and look for Billy. But the blonde hair from Heather on Billy’s shoulder, his laugh, and her lips on his jaw were burned on your head at the moment and you wished that maybe vodka could help you, you wished that angry drinking would be enough to make you feel better. 

“Fine”, you answer with a smirk and Brad smiled as well, his friends cheering in the background as you chugged another shot that had been served by you. 

It had to be almost four more rounds of shots of vodka -at least you believed but it didn’t taste like vodka after the second- that they had handed to you when you began to feel weird. 

It began slowly, the sleepiness taking over your body, spreading from your belly towards your chest, and soon it seemed to get on your head. It didn’t feel bad right away, simply weird. You were never a hard drinker, you had never blackout before and you weren’t planning to tonight. Getting tipsy? Yes, getting drunk? Maybe, but this felt like it was happening faster than what you had anticipated. 

You closed your eyes and leaned into the kitchen island for a second, trying to recover your breath to see if that was it, you just needed a little break. But as seconds passed, you felt your muscles getting sleepier and even when your eyes were closed, you felt like you were on a carrousel and it wasn’t stopping. 

“You don’t look so good”, you heard Brad said as he wrapped his arm around your waist, which you tried to get off but it seemed as if your muscles were going in slow motion. “You want to go to the bathroom?”

You felt like you could vomit at his questions, it sounded wrong. You shook your head as you opened your eyes and glared at him, motioning for him to let you go and he did, but as you turned around everything began to be blurry. 

“Iwanttodance”, you slurred, words tumbling against each other. You began walking towards the living room, trying to get away from the kitchen while you desperately tried to look for Nancy, Johnathan, or Steve. 

You felt your head getting dizzier and dizzier as each second passed, your brain seemed to be trying so hard for your limbs to move at the pace that you needed them too but they felt disconnected like there was a short-circuit between them.  

You weren’t sure when they had actually disconnected, it had to be a second before you reached the living room by going down simply two steps. It was something you were sure you could accomplish, not even on your worst drunk stories you had been so unaware of your body, you had never felt like that. So, it wasn’t a surprise when you saw the world turning upside down and you felt a sharp pain on the right side of your body, your head crashing on the floor as you closed your eyes from the impact. 

You fell, badly. 

You whimpered in pain as you felt people’s gaze on you, although you had your eyes closed you could feel people’s presence close to you and you wish you could even stand up but it seemed like nothing worked and you could only motion simple things You heard a couple of people laughing, guessing that maybe you were too drunk and were unable to handle your booze. You felt some girls getting closer to you and asking if you were okay but your words weren’t really words anymore, only mumbles, the pangs of pain still spreading through your torso, hips, and legs while the numbness started to spread as well. 

 It was even getting hard to keep your eyes open for too long. 

Before you knew it, someone was wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you off the ground. You prayed it was Billy or Steve, with Nancy by their side or even a couple of the girls who had been asking if you were okay. 

“Seems like she’s ready to go to sleep”

You froze as you heard Brad’s voice and a deep feeling of panic started invading your body. You protested, at least you thought but your words didn’t come out from your mouth, your eyes were still close as the pangs of pain from the fall were disappearing quite quickly, which made you worry. 

Brad quickly took a hold of your body and carried you bride-style to god knows where, you suddenly felt your stomach sinking as you realized how weak you were and the fact that you were in the hands of strangers. Sleepiness crawling over your body and anxiety too, everything began to become foggy. 

“We’ll take care good care of you” Logan stated as you felt the music farther and farther away.  

You whimpered in protest as you opened your eyes as you tried to shimmy yourself out of his hold but it just came as spams on your limps, nothing strong enough and it seemed like they were going through the foyer, towards the door. 

“Stop”

Nancy’s voice felt like it had been sent from the sky, you tried to turn your head as quickly as you could and there she was.  “Who are you?”, she asked as she got closer to you. 

You knew Nancy might be little, she might have been a little mousy when you met her but she was fierce and she could end anyone who came on her way. Such a small girl could raise hell if she decided to and you felt like crying with happiness when you -in a blur- watched her crossed her arms across her chest and glare at the guys she was standing in front of.

“She’s feeling bad”, Brad explained with a shrug but the sassy nature of his answer gave him away to Nancy, “She had a lot to drink and she told us to get her home”

“She has a boyfriend for that”, Nancy replied right away angrily. “And friends that know her”

“We are her friends”, he barked back and it made you jump on your inside. 

These guys were aggressive, the way that he answered to Nancy… you felt like tears were pooling in your eyes. This was not okay and panic raised again, flooding your body. You needed Nancy to take you away from their paws, now. You didn’t want to think where this was going if she didn’t manage to stop them. 

“Nancy” you managed to mumble and with all the effort you had, you tried to take a hold of her but your arm gave up before you reached her, soon your eyes rolled to the back of your head and your head fell backward.

You were too weak. 

Nancy froze for a second with fear as she saw your state, and so hell was loose. 

“Get her down now!”, Nancy’s growl made your body tremble, it was so loud that you were hoping that anyone else noticed. 

“Fuck you”, Chad replied as you heard a struggle in front of you… they were holding Nancy now as Brad began to move again, your heart sinking 

“Her boyfriend is being called right now!”, Nancy yelled as you could hear her struggling while you passed in front of her. 

The cold air hit you hard and you cried as you tried to move from Brad’s hold but he wouldn’t budge, they had managed to sneak you and this was the worst-case scenario. Billy was the only thing you thought before your brain began to shut down when you began to drown in the darkness. 

“We shouldn’t have given her so many”, Logan muttered as he opened the door of the car that was parked in the front patio of Tina’s house, close to many others. 

“Can you just shut up?”, Brad growled as he tightened the hold on your body, and tried to see how he could fit you in the car correctly. 

“Maybe it’s better”, Logan muttered as he opened the driver’s door, still talking to himself. “She won’t remember anything”

“WHERE IS SHE?”

The growl coming from the main door from the house shook Brad and Logan to the core. They both turned around to see Billy, exiting the party with Steve and Nancy behind him. 

Billy had been trying to get a Heather Miller off his back since he had started to play a beer-pong match, it had all been easy and messing around until Heather had come in and began to linger closer to Billy each time he drank. She had placed a kiss on his jaw when he had barked at her to back off, people began to laugh around them and scream things, Heather seemed to be annoyed by the statement and tried to talk him out of being so aggressive. Billy remained silent and shrugged her off each time she tried to flirt with him again, it was annoying to him and he knew that his friends would take any chance to start a rumor that could affect your relationship. So, the rest of the time he tried to get as far away from Heather as he possibly could, he even flipped her off before Steve had run towards him and ask him to go with him.  

Billy felt as if a black hole had grown in his stomach as Steve told him what had happened, that some guys were trying to take you somewhere and that you were barely conscious, that Nancy was trying to hold them back but you needed him now. 

Billy wasn’t exactly sure how fast he had arrived, how he didn’t even notice the guy on the floor that Nancy had managed to beat up with a flower vase at the foyer or how he couldn’t hear anything because his heart and breathing were so loud that he could only focus on what he saw. 

And there you were: completely limp, head falling from Brad’s arm, eyes rolled back on the back of your head. You seemed so small; it shook Billy.

Sometimes Billy had these gaps in time when he became so mad that he didn’t feel like himself anymore, he could only feel the anger filling his body as the seconds passed. It was almost automatic when his hands formed into fists and he began to growl. You had talked to him about it and had helped him to never lose control again since you began dating, helping him breathe and control his emotions. 

But not this time. 

Billy yelled as he took Logan first. The guy didn’t even have a second before Billy yanked the keys out of his hands and smashed the boy’s head against the window of the car. Billy didn’t really notice when the window cracked, he only noticed when it broke in front of him as he smashed once again Logan’s head. 

Logan fell on the ground with a groan, blood coming out of the right side of his face, laying with the broken glass on the floor. Billy then turned around quickly to go and get you, Brad had already been cornered by Steve and Nancy while Johnathan tried to rip you off from Brad’s hold. 

“HEY!”, someone yelled as he pushed Billy making him slam against the car door. 

Billy turned around to see Chad, nose already bloody from Nancy’s punch and more coming out of his eyebrow cut thanks to the vase. The guy was already beaten up by Nancy, badly, but Billy didn’t hesitate to beat him to a pulp with his fist. It seemed rather like a gap of time where Billy had no control, as his knuckles slammed against the guy's jaw while he screamed in pain. Chad managed to punch Billy on his ribs but Billy quickly retaliated and knocked him out with a single punch. 

Billy’s breathing was too shaken up, he almost couldn’t even hear how Nancy had been telling him to stop as he kept kicking the guy on the ground. It was only until Nancy hit him in the back of his head, rather hard, that he turned around. 

“We got her”, Nancy yelled at him as she glared at Billy. She didn’t seem too shaken up, her hands were bloody as well and her eyes seemed steady. 

Billy’s eyes traveled to Steve who had you in his arms while Johnathan let Brad fall from his hold against the car, his nose was already bloody, as well as his lips. But at the moment, Billy didn’t care about anything else, he got closer to you so quickly that he felt like he couldn’t breathe anymore. 

“Y/N”, he whispered as tears began to stream from his face. 

You didn’t respond, your eyes with long lashes were closed while your arm was dangling. You were cold, you usually got cold as Billy would work as a heater for you, but right now you were too cold. 

It hurt. 

Billy swore he had heard something breaking inside of his chest, he sucked in a breath as he pressed your cheek with his palm as if in any moment you would open your eyes again, that you would watch him lovingly and place a kiss on his lips like many times before but you didn’t react, you seemed lost. 

It hurt him so much that when he heard a groan coming from the floor, he saw Brad there with barely any real damage on him. Billy felt his muscles tensing up as he walked towards him, ignoring Nancy’s pleas. Billy seemed like a robot as he quickly opened again the door of the car and place Brad’s hand on the edge, without much thought, he shut the door roughly.

“aaaaAAHHH!!”

The painful scream coming from Brad’s lips shocked Nancy and Steve, and even you in your state. The scream had been the only thing that had managed to make you come back from the darkness, you couldn’t really move but your body was screaming for something to happen but your limbs seemed useless. 

Billy quickly kneeled and punch Brad again, making his nose bleed even more. The groans and whimpers coming from Brad didn’t bother Billy, it only bothered him when he wrapped one hand around Brad’s neck and he noticed his knuckles already getting purple. 

He hated being like this. He knew you would disapprove if you had been there watching him but the rage that he was feeling at the moment, he hadn’t felt it in such a long time that if he thought he remained still, he would burst. 

“I see you or your rat friend’s again, and I’ll kill you”, Billy murmured as he let go of Brad’s neck and allowed him to breathe again as he coughed thanks to the pressure Billy had on him.

Billy turned around to see Nancy, Steve, and Johnathan looking terrified, he tried to shake it off and came back to you. 

“They must have roofied her”, Johnathan explained as Billy was desperately trying to wake you up. 

“Y/N, please are you there?”, Billy couldn’t believe it was his voice, so wobbly and small as he moved your hair from your face and took a hold of you had, begging internally for you to wake up. 

You couldn’t believe it was his voice either, you wanted to scream and cry, you wanted to be held by him and feel safe again. But you couldn’t do anything, you could only beg your body to move, nudge, talk, do something. 

And it seemed as if it had listened to you for a moment. 

“Billy”, the whisper was so faint that Billy wasn’t sure it was real, he stopped dead on his track and saw how your glassy eyes were half opened and Billy felt his shaking hands coming over to your hand. 

But then you suddenly gave up, the darkness eating you once again as your eyes rolled to the back of your head once more and you were lying there, emotionless. 

Billy felt his body cold. 

“Y/N?”, Billy asked as tears streamed down once more. “Baby?”, Billy’s voice was so raw and shaken up that it almost scared Nancy as he looked at her and yelled. “Nancy, what should we do?” 

Nancy stayed still for a second, doubting herself but then she walked decidedly towards Steve who was holding your body. “We have to check her breathing and her heartbeat”, Jonathan coming right up helping her to check your vitals, while Billy gave a step back and held your cold hand. 

“She’s still breathing, it’s like she fell asleep”, Nancy answered.

“We have to take her to a hospital”, Steve stated as he held you tighter on his arms. 

Billy panicked and shook his head, knowing exactly that -even though your parents had come to accept your relationship- they wouldn’t waste a second if he gave them a reason to break you guys up. 

“Her parents would know; you know they would never let her see me again”, Billy explained to Steve, his eyes pleading with him not to do it because he knew what the consequences were and he might ruin what made you and Billy happy.  

Steve didn’t like Billy, but he had never seen him like this or anyone for that matter. He had never seen such true desperation; he had never seen someone show such raw emotions for someone. He didn’t like Billy, but you did and Steve knew that Billy was everything you wanted. 

“Fuck, what should we do?”, Johnathan sighed as Billy began taking you from Steve’s arms. 

Billy remained a second as he adjusted you in his arms, his arms around you securely as he watched you carefully. You seemed so pale and fragile, and he hated it because he knew that this wasn’t you. He couldn’t get out of his head how scared you must’ve been before you went out, what they had done to you. He wanted to take you to the hospital, he knew it was the most appropriate way but he also knew that he really couldn’t and at that moment he had a flashback to California when people took more pills than they should. 

“She’s going to have to throw this up”. Billy stated as he tried to wipe the tears with his shoulder as he took you into the house, as quickly as he could. 

“Billy, what are yo-”, Nancy protested as she followed him but Billy was on a mission, 

“She couldn’t have taken them too long ago”, he muttered as he entered Tina’s house.

He was shaking as he muttered to himself deliriously: you are going to be okay; you are going to be okay; you are going to be okay. He pulled you closer to his chest and his eyes urgently tried to find a bathroom, people were gathering around him at the entrance of the party, watching Billy splattered with blood and knuckles purple with you limp on his arms. Billy didn’t care about the people as he tried to see where was it better to take you, he even wondered if the kitchen was right but he knew you wouldn’t want anyone to see you or him in that state. 

Tina ran towards him, as she was about to speak Billy interrupted her.

“Tina!” He screamed, his voice was raw and torn -the urgency in his electric blue eyes seemed almost psychotic-, she shook at his scream. “Bathroom with a shower”

“Oh my god, what happened?”, Tina squealed as she tried to get closer but Billy stepped back. 

“Bathroom”, he growled once more startling Tina. 

“Upstairs in my room! Turn to the left”

Billy said nothing as he ran upstairs, adjusting you in his arms as he followed Tina’s instructions. He let out an all-encompassing sigh of relief as he entered the bathroom. 

“Come on, come on baby”, he whispered as he placed you on the tub and then turned on the shower. The lukewarm water began to wash your legs and lower abdomen as Billy hurried and placed himself behind you. 

He made sure that you were well position, laying on his chest so he could sit you, and then he began to place his fingers on your throat. But nothing was happening, you weren’t reacting as he tried to place his fingers on the right spot for you to throw up whatever they had given to you. 

Tears began to fall from his face, a part of him glad they were being masked with the drops of water. Billy felt like he wanted to puke himself as he gazed at the bottom of the bathtub and realized the blood was being mixed with the water -blood from the guys that he had beaten up and his own coming from his knuckles-. 

He shivered at the thought of how badly he had reacted and what would you think of him, but he quickly snapped out of it as he continued to cry for you. 

“Y/N please”, he cried. “Baby please, come on”.

Billy’s voice seemed so broken and raw, his pleas could be heard by Steve and Jonathan who were outside the bathroom while Nancy was talking to Tina outside her bedroom, convincing her not to enter until you were okay. 

But you weren’t okay, nothing was happening and Billy snapped. 

“pLEASE! Y/N”, it seemed as if his screamed had ripped through his chest as he held you, and once more, he placed his fingers on your throat in one last attempt. 

The gagging was like music to his ears, how your body finally reacted and you raised a bit from his chest with the help of Billy and you began to throw up. You felt like if you were getting out every organ inside of you as your body spammed as you threw up with Billy’s face bury on your neck as he held you. 

It wasn’t until you finally stopped after a minute of throwing up everything you could, that you realized that the fogginess and darkness that had trapped you were leaving, your head was clearing again and Billy felt like he could breathe. It wasn’t like you were completely fine, your breaths were still raggedy but they were stronger than before and you could raise your head for a second, hold yourself. 

You could hold yourself enough to throw up once more, another round, but this time it felt more like a reaction of the fear that you felt from those guys. You didn’t want anything inside of you, nothing from that night, the thought of those guys made you sick. 

It wasn’t until you were unable to throw up anything else, you turn around softly, still feeling woozy. 

And there he was, the only one you had ever wanted. 

Billy’s hair was wet, the streams of water were still falling from his body but you recognize his tears as well. His blue electric eyes that had always been heaven to you, were red from crying and his usually tan skin seemed as white as a paper, completely pale, he looked terrified. 

Indeed, Billy was terrified but he tried not to show it as he caressed your hair and help you lay more comfortably on his chest. It was only when your eyes connected and you took a big breath that you began to cry. The tears were streaming without control from your eyes and it seemed like before, you just wanted to feel empty and clean and safe. Billy held you as close to him as he could while you sob.

He kissed your head, he kissed the back of your neck and your hands as you whimpered and tried to hold anything from him, the craving of him becoming stronger every second. 

“Hold me”, you slurred and Billy nodded, wrapping his arm around your body as you cuddle against him while being wash with the water. 

“I’m so sorry”, Billy whispered as he rocked you back and forth. “I’ll never leave again”

His voice sounded so truthful that you began to think that he meant something for good, so permanently that it made your heart skip a bit but you didn’t want to say anything, you simply nodded and leaned into him even more, burying yourself against his chest. 

“I love you”, he whispered. 

[softyoongiionly]

Talk to Me in Korean (Advanced Edition)

Your boyfriend’s English is basically better than yours at this point.

After an amazing birthday, he decides to use his newfound skills to get ahead and begin planning next years celebration.

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Genre: established relationship au, domestic au, idol! jk, this is a part three to my other talk to me in korean installments but they don’t have to be read in order :)

A/N: Hiiii I’m back??? Hopefully??? This past month has been ROUGH (but like 2020 am I rite?) so I’ve been having a ton of writers block but as always, Jungkook has a way of pulling me out of all of the that. I’m sorry this is like my 50000th domestic jk story in a row ok??? I CANT HELP IT, ITS HIS FAULT. okiii anyway I love you, it’s 3am- this is unedited and im so sleepy. I love you again. 

Warnings: smut (18+ only plz), more so dirty talking than anything but stillll 

Fresh coffee.  

It’s the first thing Jungkook smells when his eyes peek open.  

His flush against the white cotton of the pillow that still holds the scent of your shampoo.  

He literally can’t help the grin that erupts onto his lips as he remembers exactly how the night before played out.  

As he remembers exactly where he is.  

He remembers that his members had organized a surprise dinner for his birthday party which included the finest selection of meat, veggies and various other side dishes money could buy.  

Not to mention, they ended the evening the introduction of a giant banana milk themed cake.  

Despite stuffing himself till near immobilization as well as being surrounded by his best friends, nothing could have prepared him for his final gift: you.  

The boys had flown you in from out of town and organized for your arrival in the middle of the party.  

Jungkook may have shed a few tears as nothing could have made him happier than seeing his beautiful girlfriend pushing through the doors of the venue.  

Once the boys had gone to home, Jungkook had taken you up to his room to finish off the evening with birthday sex.  

Predictable? Maybe.

Did either of you care? Absolutely not.  

It had been 3 months since the two of you had seen each other and he was nothing short of desperate for your touch.  

Now however, he’s experiencing a different kind of bliss as the smell of bacon begins to waft in through his cracked bedroom door.  

His smile broadens as he realizes very quickly that the same beautiful woman who had made his birthday so special had woken up early to make him breakfast.  

He cannot begin to imagine how lucky he is but, he plans on using his day off to show you how much he appreciates you.  

In a million different ways...

Running a hand through the raven locks on his head, he pushes himself to a sitting position. Upon doing so, he notices the faint red marks over the valleys and curves of his stomach whilst simultaneously feeling a hint of pain across the middle of his back. He smirks to himself and curiously runs the tips of his fingers over the aggravated flesh of his stomach.  

What a night...

He finally stands up, moving his body in every necessary direction to stretch out the soreness in his muscles before taking note of his current attire.  

Given the events of last night, it surprised him that he had even managed to pull on the pair of white boxer-briefs that currently adorned his figure. He assumed he had fallen asleep naked.  

Jungkook experiences a pivotal moment then, completely on his own.  

He realizes that he doesn’t want to put anything else on.  

To some people, this wouldn’t be a big deal but to Jungkook, its everything.  

When he first travelled to Seoul, he was too shy to remove his shirt in front of his hyungs, let a lone strut around the dorm in his boxers.  

But with you, he’s finally starting to realize that not only is he comfortable with you but, he has a massive desire to express that to you.  

He wants you to have parts of him that no one else has.  

He wants you to know that you’re the only one who gets him this way.  

Without the fancy clothes, the layers of makeup, the band aids on his tattoos, the carefully scripted words and persona...

That you alone have all of him.  

He chuckles to himself, running a hand through his hair once again as he picks on himself for making such a big deal out of something so small.

But he knows that you’d get it and that quickly squashes any of his desire to make fun of himself.  

As he approaches his bedroom door, he feels the ghost of nerves directly in the pit of his stomach.  

Why was he nervous? You’ve literally seen him naked before.

He’s been inside of you more times than he can count so why was he overthinking going out to greet his girlfriend in his boxers?

He rolls his eyes at himself, “Because you’re weird, that’s why...” He mutters to himself before finally pushing open the door.  

His kitchen is off to the left, slightly tucked behind a bit of wall and he is annoyed with the layout of his apartment because he is getting in the way of immediately seeing your pretty face.  

When he does see you however, it’s entirely worth the wait.  

You’ve got a portable speaker set up a safe distance away from your work station emitting a bit of soothing music throughout the kitchen along with a pot of fresh coffee on the island with his favorite Iron Man mug sitting right next to it, awaiting his arrival. There’s a few pans on the stovetop sizzling with various breakfast items that Jungkook doesn’t care to notice at first because his eyes are far too concerned with you.  

And boy does he desperately wish that this was his daily life...

Your wear minimal clothing as well but there are fuzzy socks on your feet and a bit of bedhead adorning your crown and that’s really all that he needs to see to conclude that you are the most fantastic thing to ever grace the planet.  

“G’morning...” He nearly mumbles, placing a hand on the counter.

He ensures his voice is soft enough not to startle you and thankfully his presence emits nothing more but a smile from your lips.

You turn towards him with the same smile, eyes raking over his body shamelessly before returning his greeting, “Good morning birthday boy. Did you sleep ok?”

He chuckles lightly, his head cocking to the side in confusion, “My birthday was...yesterday yeah?”

Your smile grows at his question as you make your way over to the sleepy man before you.

“It was.” You concede and as you near his figure, you slide your hands around his waist, “But I wasn’t with you the whole day so, I’m trying to make up for lost time.”

Immediately, he grins boyishly his capable hands sliding up your body to pull you flush against his.

“But you already gave me so many presents...” He insists, leaning towards your lips, “Remember last night?”

You take a moment to admire how good his English has gotten and silently applaud him for managing to lead such an incredibly busy life and learn a second language all at the same time. You try your best not to vocalize your praise to often though because you know how shy it makes him.  

Before you can answer, he presses his lips to yours, humming gently in his throat and promptly smiling into your mouth.  

As you indulge in him for a moment your fingers gently brush the tan skin across his back. Your touch sends a shiver up your boyfriends back which then gives you no choice but to return the smile present in your kiss.

“Duh...” You murmur which prompts a delighted chuckle to escape his mouth, “How could I forget? You were like superman last night with all that stamina...”

Your observation causes your boyfriend to frown playfully as he points to the mug sitting atop the counter.

“Not superman- Iron Man.” He insists, still holding you close, the warmth of his presence infecting you.  

With a snort, you pull back slightly to catch the glint in his eyes, “I don’t know how me comparing you to Ironman would make much sense babe but, if you want to be Iron Man then how am I to deny you?”

Jungkook smirks, already satisfied with his response before he’s even uttered it.

“I’m like Iron Man because he is a machine...” He wiggles his brows at you, “...and so am I.”

After the look of incredulity that crosses your face, you have no choice but to laugh, leaning slightly away from him to indicate that you have to head back to your breakfast before it burns.

“Alright fair enough-” You concede, still giggling a bit as his grip tightens on your body, his own beautiful smile still present on his mouth, “I gotta finish cooking, or else we’re gonna have burnt bacon for breakfast.”

He shrugs, unimpressed as he uses his inhuman strength to hug you tighter,  “Bacon is bacon.”

This prompts more laughter as he reluctantly walks to the stove with you, your body still encased in his grip.

“I can’t cook with your mega muscles constricting my arms-” You point out, craning your neck slightly to try and meet his gaze, a ghost of a smile on your lips, which is still locked onto a mixture of mischief and joy.

With a furrowed brow he leans in slowly before pecking your lips quickly and finally releasing you, “What is constricting?”

His question is asked from near the coffee pot, his hands gingerly moving his mug closer to him.

He is VERY careful with this particular mug.

“Constricting is like when you squeeze something really really tight-” You explain softly, taking the now well-done strips of bacon out of the pan before laying them on some paper towels.

He’s pouring himself a cup of coffee, his eyes narrowed in focus as he nods, “Ohhh ok- you mean like how snakes do?”

“Yeah exactly!” You smile brightly, turning towards him with encouragement on your face, “that’s why we call certain kinds of snakes constrictors because that’s how they kill their pray. Honestly, it wasn’t the best word choice on my part because, people definitely use the word squeeze more but-”

He shakes his head then, his eyes still focusing on preparing his cup of coffee, “It doesn’t matter- you taught me another new word without even trying to.” He assures you before a cocky smirk comes across his face, “I bet I know more words than Namjoon-hyung now...”

His comment makes you laugh as his competitiveness is something you adore despite the fact that you don’t fully understand it.

“Oh for sure, you probably know more words than I do honestly, with how often you practice.”  

Jungkook smiles broadens at your praise, his eyes finally flitting up towards you, “Probably.”

He laughs along with you now, the sound of your giggling sending warmth into his heart as he brings the mug to his lips.

“You’re a brat.” You point out simply, still smiling because you literally do nothing else with this kid as you begin to fry up the last batch of bacon.

Suddenly, you feel his presence behind you, his strong arms wrapping around your waist whilst his nose burrows playfully into your neck, “Noooo an angel.”

Snorting again, you pretend his lips near such a sensitive area doesn’t affect you as you continue with your current task, “An angel? What on Earth would make you think that?”

Your teasing prompts a bout of snickering to leave his lips as he hugs you tighter to him, the soft scent of his hair sending a wave of comfort through you.

“You call me a good boy all the time...”

Although his comment is meant to be innocent, the way he intentionally lowers his tone causes your thighs to press together.

“I do,” You admit, trying to keep it together as you crack a few eggs into an awaiting pan, “I don’t know if that makes you an angel though.”

Jungkook senses the change in your voice and rather then shy away from the direction the conversation is heading, he decides to go with it.  

“That’s true-” He murmurs and it’s then you can feel the smirk against the curve of your neck, “Especially since you only call me that when I’m making you cum huh?”

This causes your eyes to grow wide and given that your flirtatious boyfriend is staring at you already, there is no way for you to hide it.

So instead you play along, enjoying this new side of him more than you care to admit.

“Exactly.” You mutter, giggling to yourself as you feel a bit of heat on your cheeks, “Go set the table or something- you're going to make me burn the kitchen down.”

With a cheeky giggle, he seems satisfied with his mission to fluster you, placing a kiss to your cheek and rushing off to do as you’ve asked him to.

Breakfast passes without any more of Jungkook’s reckless behavior and you’re thankful for it because, you sincerely doubt that you’d be able to focus on your plate when you have a foul-mouthed buffet sitting across from you.

Jungkook insists on helping you clean up whilst also reminding you once again that his birthday was yesterday and that he doesn’t want any more special treatment.

All he wants is to be with you today.

You honor his request by sitting up a massive mountain of pillows and blankets in his living room and situating yourselves in front of his flat screen.

With the curtains closed and the scent of Jungkook’s sea breeze candle wafting throughout the room, the two of you begin watching a movie together.  

However, halfway through the movie, the plans begin to morph into something else entirely.

Armed with newly found confidence, your boyfriend begins kissing you, his hands making their way towards your hips.

The pace of your breathing picks up rather quickly when he suckles your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling against the swollen flesh.

“For my birthday- next year...” He whispers into your mouth, eyes fluttering open as he nudges your nose, “I want to kiss you all day.”

His request causes you to smile, your hands slowly sliding up his neck to tuck into the hair at the back of his head, “Whatever you want.”

Your response causes his eyes to sparkle with mischief once more, delighted at how willing you are to give him whatever he wants, “Oh- it’s whatever I want hm? Just like that?”

The way he’s speaking to you makes you a little light headed and rather than try to reign back his bout of authority, you decide to run with it, “Just like that.”

Your response is spoken into his mouth, the kiss between you breaking so he can maneuver you onto your back. For a moment, he braces his hands on either side of your head, his perfect body hovering over you, with only the long strands of his hair and the thin silver chains around his neck reaching for you.  

“What if-” He grins before grinding his hips against you, the swollen bit of his boxers rubbing against your clothed core, “I wanted to be in here all day? Would you let me?”

Through the waves of pleasure, your eyes squeeze shut for a moment before you nod, your fingers beginning to wander up the outsides of his forearms.

“Whatever you want...”

His grin is stable but the pace of his breathing is quickening, indicating his excitement.

He wants more out of this conversation though and decides to press you further.  

“Would you let me put my face down there all day too? You wouldn’t have to cook for me if you did...” He points out before his grin morphs into a smirk as he leans down towards your lips, “I’d get full off your pussy wouldn’t I?”

The switch in languages also indicates his level of arousal as his mentioned before that English is far more difficult when he’s wrapped up in his emotions or in this case, his desires.  

Using your nails, you lightly tickle your way up to shoulders tugging playfully to see if he’ll come to lay down on you fully but he doesn’t budge. He merely chuckles and grinds against you once again.

“Patience...” He parrots a phrase that you often utter to him when roles are reversed in the bedroom and the glimmer in his eyes informs you that he is eating up your reaction to him.

“But I want you...” You whine to him, hoping his thing for hearing you speak his language will be enough to break his resolve but he isn’t ready to give in just yet.

“That’s too bad jagiya, I’m not finish planning my birthday just yet.” Jungkook whines mockingly in return, the innocent curls framing his face contradicting his salacious demeanor, “I want to know how many marks you’d leave on me- maybeeeeee...” He draws out the word as his teeth tuck into his bottom lip, “25? One for every year of my birthday?”

Since attempting to tug him down didn’t work out, you decide to wrap your legs around his waist to further some sort of contact between you two.  

“Twenty five? Your stylists would kill me...” You point out giggling, pushing your now damp panties against the swell of his length beneath his boxers.  

Rather cockily, Jungkook snorts and leans down once again to brush his lips over yours, “I don’t give a fuck what the noonas say, they know how to cover me up and, even if they can’t- people are just gonna have to deal with it.” Another smirk forms on his mouth before he sucks your bottom lip between his teeth, “it would be really hard for them if they fired me don’t you think?”

You gotta admit, his new found attitude is turning you on. It’s not like Jungkook to be so cocky, despite the way some people may think and although you know for a fact that he’s putting it on for you, you have no problem sucking it up anyway.  

“Definitely. BigHit would have hell to pay...” You concede, your words slightly muffled due to the current location of your bottom lip. Once more your hands tangle their way into his hair and you take advantage of this position to kiss him, hoping that will be enough to convince him to drop the teasing.  

He kisses you back with enthusiasm, his lower body relaxing slightly as more and more of him presses against you.  

“You’re wet.”  He whispers, his eyes still closed whilst he continues to peck at your bottom lip, “Are you ready for my dick now?”  

With his inquiry, he grinds against you once more, sending a shiver of pleasure up your spine.  Your surprised that he spoke the second sentence in English as he usually would have switched fully to Korean at this point.  

“Namjoon’s really been rubbing off on you lately...”  

This insignificant comment lights a fire in Jungkook’s chest and prompts him to quickly pin your wrists above your head. His features hold a bit of disapproval but, mostly they hold that competitive look that is so uniquely Jungkook.  

That “I’m going to win just to show you how good I am” kind of look.

“Why does everyone assume that Namjoon is the most perverted huh? Just cause he talks about it the most? He writes a few dirty lyrics and talks about porn and suddenly he’s the only one who wants to fuck? Jagiya- do you want to know why I look so distracted all the time?” He giggles in an almost maniacal fashion, a dark smirk prominent on his lips as he cocks his head, “It’s because I’m usually thinking about fucking you. Everyone always thinks I’m so shy- so innocent, but you’d let them know huh jagi?  You’d let them know how fucking dirty I am wouldn’t you? I don’t think ARMY could handle it if they knew the truth...” Jungkook offers that same type of laughter once again before kissing you once more, “Now answer my question- are you ready for my dick now?”

His words and behavior stun you a little bit but mostly it just sends more arousal to your core and ruins your odds of putting these pair of panties back on when the two of you are done.  

“Yes sir...” You giggle, saluting him playfully as you wrap your legs around his waist again, “I’m so ready for you- please? Can I have it?”  

Your pleas work immediately on your boyfriend, who is already struggling with his level of arousal and before you know it, he is fucking both you of you into orgasmic bliss.  

It’s over too quickly but it’s the kind of fuck that you know it going to prompt a round two.

Or maybe even a round three or four if you’re lucky...

Jungkook’s head is on your chest now, his arms hugging you tightly to his body, his post-orgasmic glow riding him of any of his previously cocky attitude.  

“I like this.” He murmurs, licking his chapped lips and nuzzling between your breasts.

You smile fondly down at him, “Cuddling?”

He shakes his head, his eyes beginning to flutter shut, “Not just cuddling- but you, being here, at my house with me.”

With a kiss to his forehead, you use your free hand to brush his hair from his eyes, “I like being here with you too.”

There is a bit of color that finds it’s way to Jungkook’s cheeks as he utters a suggestion, “You should stay here with me. I will move my stuff around for you...”

It’s such a simple notion and yet it nearly moves you to tears but before you’re able to breach the topic further, his eyes fully close as he relaxes his weight completely.  

Without clarity regarding whether or not he can hear you, you utter your response into his hair,

“Sounds good, roomie.”

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

but we’re still young || h. styles

warnings: mentions of alcohol, references to alcoholism, swearing, brief mentions of death, sexual references, discussions of infertility, googled medical diagnoses, breakup, references to covid, not really proofread

word count: 7.2k

summary: anecdotes of a relationship destined to collapse...

01 march, 2013

“Just talk to her, man!” Liam yelled over the deafening music of the club. Harry sighed, his eyes drifting between the drink in his hands and you. You were dancing with your friends, laughing as the skinny girl tripped over her own feet. Snapping his eyes away from you, he glanced across at Liam, “Bit creepy, though, isn’t it?”

“You have been staring at her for the past five minutes. That’s creepier than just talking to her,” Liam shrugged, patting Harry on the back. 

The band had been given the night off. Finally. Collectively, they’d all decided to go out together. That’s not to say they would be staying out too late, though - they had an early start the next morning. “Yeah, man,” came Niall’s voice. “Just go buy her a drink or something.”

“No,” Louis said quickly, arriving at the bar with Zayn. “Don’t do that. They’d rather you just spoke to them than try and buy them a drink. It makes it seem like you’re trying to get them drunk and, you know…”

Harry finished the rest of his drink, running a hand through his hair. Zayn glanced between him and the exit to the club, “Harry, mate, maybe you shouldn’t. If somebody sees you talking to a girl and leaks it to the press-”

“Well, then they’re a dickhead,” Liam said. “It’s your life, Hazza. Worth a shot, right?”

Zayn sighed, “Yeah, they’re a dickhead. But that doesn’t mean it won’t be her who faces the consequences for talking to you. You know what they’re like whenever we talk to a girl.”

“Too late,” Niall said quickly, gesturing over to the three girls walking over to the bar. One of the girls was considerably drunker than the others, both of them having to support her. The five boys tried to be subtle as they carefully watched you and your friend sit the drunker one down at the booth by the bar. They could just about hear your conversation over the music. After all, you weren’t sat all that far away. “Jesus, Eileen,” you sighed, examining your giggling friend. “What did you drink?”

“I think we should take her home,” your other friend said. 

“No!” Eileen protested. “We’re having so much fun!”

“You’re so drunk,” the other one laughed at Eileen and your frustrated expression. 

“You know me, Nelly, I love a good vodka and coke!” Eileen grinned. “Once I have one, I can’t stop.”

“Have you considered therapy?” Nelly joked. “An AA meeting, maybe?”

You scoffed, slumping back against the padded fabric of the booth. Brushing the loose strands of Eileen’s hair out of her face, you wrapped her jacket around her bare arms. “Come on,” you sighed, “let’s go home.”

You and Nelly carefully lifted Eileen up from the seat to guide her out of the club. The cold London air was refreshing against your flushed cheeks. Yes, you may have been slightly tipsy, but you were nowhere near as bad as Eileen. Besides, Nelly was entirely sober. The only thing she’d drunk that night was a glass of lemonade. She wasn’t much of a drinker. She’d have a glass of wine at fancy dinners and that was usually the extent of it. 

Back inside the sweaty club, Harry was beginning to regret not saying a thing to you at all. He’d watched you leave the club with your friends and he suddenly just wanted to go home. “Tough luck, mate,” Louis sighed, smiling sadly at the deflated boy before him. 

Fortunately for Harry, he noticed something on the table of the booth you’d just been sat at. It was a set of keys. He quickly snatched them up and ran out after you. There was hope for him yet. He ran down the street after you. Thankfully, due to Eileen’s stumbling, you’d yet to get too far. “Excuse me!” he called. “Excuse me, I think you dropped your keys!”

It was you who turned back to look at him. His arm was outstretched, the keys between his fingers. You thanked him as he dropped them into your hand. Once he straightened his back from being hunched over, trying to catch his breath, and his face became illuminated by a streetlamp, did you realise who he was. Harry Styles. You didn’t say anything, though. You assumed he probably got enough of people telling him who he was on the daily that he wouldn’t need an extra one from you. He reached out to shake your other hand, “I’m Harry.”

“I know,” you smiled. “Y/N.”

He grinned. Y/N. He knew your name. Your hand was soft against his. You were wearing this black dress, or maybe it was blue. It was too dark to tell. Your lips were red, maybe pink. You smelt of strawberries. “I think you look really pretty,” he said, thankful it was so dark to hide the red tint that graced his cheeks. 

You smiled politely, trying to ignore the sniggering of Nelly and Eileen from behind you. “Thank you, Harry.”

He nodded, unsure what to say next. But he knew he couldn’t let this opportunity slip from his grasp. “Can I have your number?” he asked, already knowing what the answer would be. Of course you weren’t going to just give him your number. 

You shrugged, “I don’t even know you.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Your younger brother had given you a full debrief on the members of One Direction last time you’d gone back home to visit your family. He’d made sure not to miss a single detail. So, yes, you did know him. Not personally, of course. But it felt personal. He hung his head, “Yeah. Of course. Why would you trust me?”

You knew he wasn’t saying it in an aggressive or sarcastic way. Really, why would you trust him? You sighed, “You’re famous?”

It was a joke. You were joking. And it took him a split second to laugh. Well, he chuckled, really. “I’ll give you my number if you write a song about me,” you smirked. Again, you were kind of joking. And yet, he nodded. 

“Deal.”

20 november, 2013

And write a song about you he did. You found yourself tangled up in the sheets of his bed five days before his third studio album was set to be released. Two months you’d been together now, and they’d been perhaps the happiest of your life. Running your fingers delicately through his mop of hair, smiling contently as he closed his eyes in utter bliss. It should have been sunny outside, the golden rays practically pouring in through the windows of his flat. But alas, it was pouring with bitter rain. “I have to go soon,” he grumbled, nuzzling his tired face into your waist, wrapping his lethargic arms around your thighs. 

You nodded, sighing, “I know, baby.”

“So much fucking press,” he groaned, forcing his eyes open. “Same fucking questions. What’s your favourite off the album? Who is this one written about? Are you single? Everyone’s in love with you, how does that feel?”

You smiled down at him softly, “Good thing you love talking about yourself then, isn’t it?”

He grinned, “Exactly. Just wish they’d ask something novel and somewhat fucking entertaining. Podcast or songs in the shower? Would you ever become a classical composer? Hardback or paperback?”

“What, and ‘podcast or songs in the shower’ is novel and somewhat fucking entertaining,” you couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, a real exclusive for the journalists.”

He chuckled, dragging himself out of bed. He slipped into the bathroom, emerging in no time at all dressed in a t-shirt and some jeans. Unplugging his phone, he pressed his lips to yours. “I’ll see you later,” he said.

You threw the covers from your body, following him through the flat. Harry grabbed one of his coats, before hugging you tightly. “I love you.”

You pulled away quickly, staring up at him, eyes wide, “Really?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I guess I do.”

“I guess I love you too.”

When he returned, it was dark. You were lying in his bed, your eyelids heavy. He crept in, kissing you lightly. “I wrote a song about you,” he whispered. 

You smiled up at him weakly, “You did? You kept your end of the bargain.”

He nodded. And so, he played it for you. You were curled up in his bedsheets, listening to a song a guy had written about you. And it was pretty fucking good. “When did you write it?” you asked as it came to an end.

“A few nights after we met. Do you like it?” he asked nervously.

You nodded, grabbing his face to kiss him, “I love it. What’s it called?”

“Little Black Dress.”

07 january, 2014

Months passed. And every single one seemed to get better than the last. It felt as if you were high, right up in the clouds, every waking moment. But you were nervous. Your fingers were practically shaking. However, as soon as Anne opened the door to greet you both with her warming smile, the nerves just seemed to disappear. Vanish. She hugged you first, squeezing you tightly as if she’d know you all her life. She hugged Harry next, hurrying you both in. 

The house was warm and cosy and oh so welcoming. There were pictures on the wall of Harry and Gemma as kids and some of Anne and Robin on their wedding day. You couldn’t help but smile at them. Harry noticed you admiring the snapshots of history that had been framed and hung up on the wall. “Cute, wasn’t I?” he joked, squeezing your hand. 

You shrugged, “Not as cute as Gemma.”

You had met Gemma before. You’d gone out to dinner with her and Harry when he decided he wanted you to meet his family. She was lovely and too kind to you. But this was your first time meeting Anne and Robin. Their warm smiles and kind words did nothing but make you feel at home. 

After chatting for a while, they let you and Harry get settled in. You’d be staying for a couple of days before heading back down to London. He showed you around his childhood bedroom, which did nothing but fill you with joy. “Nothing’s changed,” he smiled, eyes exploring the room that still made him feel like a kid again. “I love coming back. Brings me back down to earth, you know? Back to home. I know it’ll always be here, no matter where I go.”

“That’s poetic,” you said. His lips curved up slightly and when he pressed his lips to your head lightly, you couldn’t help but smile too. It almost felt illegal to be so innocently intimate in his childhood bedroom, filled with long-forgotten memories of a life once lived. 

Later, as the sun set over the house that you already felt so welcomed in, you found yourself sat beside Harry in the kitchen. You’d become acquainted with the cats that inhabited the home and Anne’s gorgeous cooking. As Anne and Robin got to know you, you made sure to ask plenty of questions about them. The smile that adorned your face throughout the evening and the following days never seemed to fade or die away. And, by the end of your stay at Harry’s childhood home, you felt as if you’d known Anne and Robin all your life. As if you’d known the walls of the house all your life. And the pictures of youthful ignorances and watercolours of distant landscapes. And the cats that purred loudly as they ran their head along your legs the last thing before you slept and the first thing before you woke. 

And you were sure you could revel in the feeling of warm, welcoming homeliness of the home and the family for the rest of your life.

12 october, 2014

Nelly had looked truly ravishing on her wedding day. The white dress was an unusual contrast to her jeans and sweaters. You were convinced there was nothing she couldn’t pull off. Harry had been hanging off your arm all evening, like a lost toddler. He’d acted like one too, making comments about being tired and his feet hurting all day. You paid no mind to him, though. This was Nelly’s day and she was your friend and you wanted to be there to support her. You’d known the girl since your first day of secondary school when you were both a mere eleven years old. 

Eileen plopped herself down beside you, her eyes exploring the faces that were lost on her in the large hall. Everybody was mingling now, catching up with people they hadn’t seen since 2010. Her presence pulled you away from your hushed conversation with Harry. “I don’t even know who half of these people are,” Eileen sighed. 

“That’s how it usually goes at weddings,” Harry replied, taking a sip of the provided champagne, slumping back in his chair slightly. 

“Like, who even is that?” she sighed, gesturing subtly to an elderly man stood with Nelly and her mother. 

You sighed, “That’s her granddad.”

“Oh,” Eileen said. “Are you sure? I thought her granddad died last year.”

“No, that was my granddad,” you chuckled. “That’s Nelly’s Granddad Joe.”

“If you say so,” she sighed, finishing the rest of her gin and tonic. “They all look the same to me. White hair, wrinkly.”

Harry stifled a snort at Eileen’s nonchalant tone. You patted her shoulder lightly, also amused. Eileen had a habit of growing very tired of boring occasions very quickly. It had happened numerous times before and it always cracked you up. She started up again, “I never mind the actual ceremony, like that’s somewhat interesting. It’s the mingling I can’t stand. We’ve been here for two hours, Nelly’s already married, why do people care about this stuff so much?”

“Because it’s nice to catch up with people,” you replied. 

She lay her head down on your shoulder tiredly, “That’s what Facebook is for.”

Harry chuckled, “Well, she isn’t wrong.”

You tried so hard not to sigh so loudly, but it still came out louder than you perhaps would have liked, “Will you two at least pretend to give a shit? Eileen, this is our best friend getting married and you don’t care. We’ve known her for ten years, liven up. Harry, this is my friend and I want to celebrate with her. Just suck it up and deal with it. We’ll go soon.”

You were quite literally dealing with toddlers. You looked up when Nelly finally came and sat down at the table you’d been huddled around. She finished what was left of her drink and threw her head back. “I’m so tired,” she sighed. Even the bride was beginning to act like a two-year-old. 

“I can imagine,” you offered her your best smile. “So, how does it feel to be married?”

“Relieving,” she explained. “But somewhat anticlimactic. My feet hurt and I’m sick of having to say hello to every single aunt, uncle, cousin, nephew, niece. Just to get told ‘oh, I never thought I’d see our Nelly get married’ or ‘my, haven’t you grown’? Yes, Linda, I have. Because it’s been seven years since you’ve last seen me, I’m not thirteen anymore.”

The three of you exchanged amused glances at Nelly’s grumbling. She was throwing her arms about, staring down at the white tablecloth that had a big wine stain in it. Your mother had knocked over her wine when explaining to Harry how much of a teacher’s pet you were in school. Obviously, you had to interject and explain that caring about grades didn’t equal a teacher’s pet. “Oh, you never thought you’d see your Nelly get married, did you? Well, maybe that’s because gay marriage was only legalised last year. Fucking disgusting,” Nelly went on.

Eileen quickly held up her hand, “Please, we’ve heard this rant before.”

Nelly sighed, glancing boredly at Eileen. You all sat in peaceful silence for a moment, comforted by the feeling of Harry’s large hand on your leg. When your mother finally came over, telling you she was heading off, you decided it was time for your departure too. So, congratulating Nelly and her new wife, Emma, on their marriage and beautiful ceremony and bidding farewell to those you were sure you wouldn’t see again until 2016, you and Harry ventured back to your little flat. 

Once you were showered and out of the dress you felt so beautiful in, you tumbled into bed, happy to finally have those heels off. Harry’s suit was stranded across your bedroom floor in little piles of shirt and trouser and sock. “Can I perform at our wedding?” he asked, turning to look at you as you lay your head back against the inviting softness of your pillow. 

His question and casual tone is what awoke all the life in you. You didn’t sit up dramatically and make a scene about it. You merely rolled over to face him directly, smiling softly at him, “Who said we’ll be getting married?”

He shrugged, “I think it’d be quite nice if we did one day.”

“Maybe,” you hummed, finding a wonderful level of contentment in the discussion of the future with Harry. “But you’re not performing at it.”

He chuckled, “Why not? Me and the boys. The lads and I. A bit of Up All Night? Some more recent stuff? Come on, Y/N, you’d love it.”

“Not when my new husband is singing with his little boyband.”

Hearing you refer to Harry as your ‘new husband’ certainly made him light up inside. And his head was suddenly filled with all sorts of fantasies of what it would be like to wake up beside you every day. To come home from a long day and order food in because neither of you could be bothered to cook. To get your first pet together, probably name it after a character in a show you were presently obsessed with. To raise a family together. To fight through the sleepless nights of infancy, but knowing it would all be worth it because, at the end of the day, he knew you’d always be there. Just as he’d always be there for you. 

And he smiled, because he knew this was where he wanted to stay for as long as he can. With you. 

15 may, 2015

It felt different waking up under the sun in Italy. Same sun, just… different. It was Italian. It was glorious. Perhaps it was the peacefulness of not having management drag Harry out of bed in the early hours of the morning. Perhaps it was the refreshing release of the pressures of university coursework. Perhaps it was the mere fact that you were completely alone with nobody to interrupt you. 

Harry’s hair was splayed out across the cool silk pillows that rested quite perfectly on the bed you wished belonged to you. His tattooed arms were slung lazily over your body and the thin sheets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed in your sleep. It was something about being on holiday that always made you tired, despite doing nothing but reading or lounging about in the sun or splashing about in the pool. 

He was snoring quietly, still sleeping soundly. You were happy, though, staring out the large floor-to-ceiling windows that replaced a wall of the bedroom in the villa you were staying at. It opened up onto the pool and had a simply marvellous view of the blue sea. It was a short walk into town, but you and Harry had made a point of exploring it all within the first three days so you could spend the rest of your overdue holiday cuddled up together in the sunlight.

When Harry stirred, his tired eyes still full of sleep, you finally sat up. He wrapped his arms around your waist, trying to pull you back down. You laughed, trying desperately to pry his fingers off your skin. “I’m getting up now,” you said happily. 

“Don’t,” he grumbled, closing his sleepy eyes again. “Why get up when we can stay here forever?”

“Why stay here forever when we’re literally in Italy and there’s a pool outside?” you countered. 

“But why go swim in the pool when we did that yesterday?”

You shook your head at him, laughing. You pulled yourself away from the bed that could only be described as heavenly. He watched you leave, smiling away to himself. Was this what it felt like to be in love?

Carrying a bowl of fresh strawberries, you wandered out into the garden of the villa. Soon enough, Harry joined you in his yellow shorts. Of course there had been paparazzi pictures of you and Harry exploring Amalfi, hands clasped together tightly. But, for once, you paid no mind to them. Usually, you found it hard not to stare at the pictures of you and Harry for hours, picking apart all the pixelated details of your face and body. You would be lying if you said it didn’t take a toll on you mentally. But, when you were able to turn your phone off for a week and just enjoy the world around you, it left you feeling refreshed and cleansed. 

Harry sat himself down by the side of the pool, letting his legs swing between the cool ripples of water. He lay his head back, letting his eyes flutter shut. No words were exchanged, for none were needed. You were both in silent agreement that this was where you wanted to go when you died. 

When you finished your strawberries and your lips and fingertips smelt suitably like them, you clambered up from the bench and slipped quietly into the pool. The water was contrastingly cold compared to the sun that beat down relentlessly but perfectly. You swam towards Harry, interlacing your strawberry-scented fingers with his own. He looked down at you, smiling brightly at the sight of such. “I love you,” he whispered. 

You grinned, “I love you too.”

“I’d call it more of an unhealthy obsession with me,” he replied, shrugging jokingly.

You scoffed, “If anyone has an unhealthy obsession with someone, it’s you. Let’s go to Italy, you said, you can finish your uni coursework later. You begged me to come here with you.”

He smirked down at you, “Begged? You seemed pretty eager to me.”

“Well, you never have been very observant,” you joked, squeezing his hands tightly, before dragging him into the pool with you. 

When he finally resurfaced, brushing his long hair out of his green eyes, he reached out to grasp you. He pulled you close, wrapping his arms around your body submerged in the water. Placing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose, he held you as if he was scared you were going to be pulled away from him. As if was the last time he would ever get to feel your skin against his own. “When we go home,” he whispered, “move in with me.”

You lay your head against his shoulder, softly closing your eyes. All you needed was the sound of his light breathing and the increased beating of his heart as he waited for any kind of indication of a response from you. “Yeah, okay,” you replied, equally as quiet.

You didn’t want to make a deal about moving in with Harry. The setting wasn’t right. You were holding each other tightly in the pool of an Italian villa in Amalfi, the world around you warm and serene. So, you agreed gently, buzzing violently inside at the prospect of all the adventures you and Harry could get up to living together.  

02 july, 2016

You’d lived in Harry’s flat for a month before you both decided to buy your own house. It was a lovely home in Chelsea that you and Harry had simply fallen in love with when you first saw it. It felt perfect in the sunlight and in the pouring rain. But, as you both returned from going out for drinks after your university graduation ceremony, you were quickly irritated by the half-painted walls and flat-pack furniture. 

A week or two prior to your graduation ceremony, you had both been sat at the island in the kitchen, when you both decided that you wanted to renovate the house. Maybe replace the grey walls in the living room with a forest green and swap out the black and white furniture for navys and mustards. The modern style of the house had been nice at first, but it quickly began to feel like less of a home and more of an office building. So, you decided to change it up a bit.

Harry recently got back from America after finishing some last-minute shoots on the new Christopher Nolan film he’d been cast in. While you’d visited him once when he was shooting in Dunkirk, you still felt eternally grateful to have him back home. And, while you could sit and hear him talk about what it was like working with Christopher Nolan and the likes of Tom Hardy and Kenneth Branagh, you grew increasingly stressed about graduating and renovating the house. But now the graduation was over and you were officially free of education. The renovation was well underway and you were actively seeking a job with your English literature degree. “Thank God that’s over,” you sighed, sitting down at the kitchen island after pouring yourself a glass of chocolate milk. “Finally free of the tiresome shackles that are higher education.”

He snorted at you, “I’m proud of you. Just think, you were only in your first year at university when we first met.”

You couldn’t help but smile. So much had changed in the last three years of your life. You were sat with your boyfriend, who had just come back from shooting a movie, in the kitchen of your own house in Chelsea, London having just come back from your university graduation ceremony. One of your closest friends was married and had been happily for coming up to two years. The other had just got herself into a relationship after ranting to you about how she wanted to stay single forever countless times before. Life was good and you were content in where you were for your age. Who wouldn’t be? You’d just broken into your 20s and were about to enter the brutal world of careers. “I miss your long hair,” you said suddenly, pouting slightly at the sight of Harry without his hair you’d grown so used to. 

“I don’t. Dries so much quicker after showers,” he said. “Stays out of my face when I’m doing stuff. Doesn’t get knotted so easily. So many perks to shorter hair.”

“But you looked so hot with it,” you said, mocking a sad tone.

He smiled, “Don’t I look hot now?”

You shrugged, “You always look hot. Just less hair to grab now.”

His cheeks flushed and you couldn’t help but laugh, “You’re so cheeky sometimes!”

“Just speaking the truth, your honour,” you raised your hands in surrender. “What shall we order in for dinner?”

“Up to you, it’s your day after all,” he smiled. “I’m just going for a shower, so just order me whatever.”

As he got up, he pressed his lips to yours briefly as he walked past, squeezing your shoulder. It was the domesticity of it that made you fall in love with him more and more. Late nights binging crappy tv shows and early morning leftovers and the moment of realisation that you’d forgotten to water the plants by the kitchen window. It was what you’d imagined the entire time you’d been with Harry. All of these hypotheticals that you had stored away in your mind were now your simply marvellous reality.

10 may, 2017

The topic of children had been brought up a few times before. You’d both agreed that you wanted them one day. Mid-twenties maybe, 25 or 26? You’d been together since you were both nineteen, but you were still young. That’s not to say that if you happened to fall pregnant now you’d be entirely opposed to becoming parents. Your house had long been finished and you had a decent job and Harry had his debut album and his film coming out. 

But presently, you found yourself sat on the sofa, listening to Harry’s completed album. Anne was sat beside you, silently absorbing the masterpiece that her son had crafted. As Two Ghosts slowly became Sweet Creature, you felt yourself tear up, only to look over and find Anne in floods of tears. You knew, as you listened intently to the lyrics, it was Harry’s way of assuring you it was going to be okay. You didn’t need to worry about starting a family yet. You didn’t need to worry about arguing with him. It would all be okay in the end. 

As the final note of From the Dining Table echoed across your living room, it was safe to say you and Anne were both desperate to hear it all again. Harry Styles being unapologetically himself was something you would be eternally proud of him for. 

21 july, 2017

Maybe if you hadn’t gone to the Dunkirk premiere on Harry’s arm, you wouldn’t be feeling so uneasy. You were there to look nice and give the newspapers something to talk about the next morning. Always something about ‘HARRY STYLES AND LONG TERM GIRLFRIEND Y/N Y/L/N AT DUNKIRK PREMIERE’ which would be full of meaningless facts about your relationship, your education and career and family, who styled the two of you. Of course, you were excited to see Harry in a project he’d put so much life into and you were so proud of him. But it was when you and Harry were being interviewed that you began to feel uncomfortable. 

It had started off fine with questions about what prompted Harry to star in a film, what it was like working with Christopher Nolan, that sort of thing. But, as usual, the interviewers managed to make smooth transitions into Harry’s personal life. “Y/N, you and Harry have been together since 2013, how does it feel to see him succeed on such a global scale?” one asked. 

Your gaze shifted between Harry and the camera behind the interviewer, “Well, he’s happy, isn’t he? And, as long as he’s happy, I’ll always be proud of him.”

He couldn’t help but smile to himself at your answer, as did the interviewer, who knew they were getting some good footage. It wasn’t often you did publicity things. Obviously, you would have to be in certain places with Harry to spark some news articles, which were completely set up by Harry’s management. You didn’t mind that so much. But being asked about yourself and your relationship was something you didn’t like all that much. You’d go live on Instagram sometimes and you would get a couple of questions about Harry, which you were usually happy to answer. And if you felt uncomfortable answering them, you could just pretend you hadn’t seen it. But in real-life interviews, there was no escaping them and the hole the camera burnt into you. “So, you two have obviously been together for nearly five years,” another began, “is there any possibility of children in your future?”

Harry had been getting the kids question since he turned twenty, but this one seemed to make him flinch slightly. Maybe it was the recent tension you’d both been feeling about starting a family. Were you ready? Weren’t you? Should you get a home that wasn’t so central first? All these questions that neither of you knew the answers to. Maybe it was the recent loss of Harry’s stepfather and the ripple that had caused within the family. “I think we should get a cat before we have a child,” was your reply, your tone joking and your smile friendly, but your answer serious. 

Harry chuckled, “I think we’re both still quite young and we’re both committed to our careers, so having a child right now would just be illogical and impractical. I think it’s healthy to focus on ourselves and our relationship for a few years more.”

But that wasn’t the last question about parenthood. And with each one, you began to feel the pressure of society to start a family more and more. It was actually such a relief to get into the cinema, sit down and just enjoy the film. When you finally got home and up into bed, you had to roll over and voice your thoughts to Harry. “Should we have a baby?” you asked quietly.

“Not if you’re not ready,” he replied in a hushed tone as if he’d been expecting you to bring such a topic up. And, truth be told, he had. He had watched your eyebrows furrow more every time you were asked about kids and your tone become an increasingly stronger mix of shakiness and aggressiveness. 

“Everyone expects us to, Harry,” you said. 

“Well, they’re not in our relationship. It’s your body, love, when you want a kid, we’ll have a kid.”

09 january, 2019

One year ago, you and Harry had decided to start trying for a baby. You had both reached a point in your lives where you were happy and comfortable. You decided it was the perfect time to start expanding your quiet little home. Neither of you were to know the stress that would come in the following months. 

It had been a year. A year and not even a single sign of pregnancy. None of your periods were significantly late, you never felt the urge to throw up in the morning. No weird cravings, no weight gain. 

You were round at Nelly’s house with Eileen. Her wife, Emma, was out for the day so Nelly had invited the two of you round. Six episodes deep into the latest craze of television, the three of you found more interest in conversation. “How’s Harry?” Eileen asked after she’d finished telling you about the new dog she and her boyfriend, Charlie, had adopted. 

You sighed. You didn’t want to lie and say he was fine; that the two of you were fine. Because you weren’t. Every single negative pregnancy test resulted in an extra argument, more pressure and stress and lots more guilt on both ends. “Yeah, yeah, he’s good. We’re good,” you said. 

“You’re such a liar,” Nelly laughed. “Tell us what’s wrong.”

Taking a deep breath, you prepared to explain everything to your friends. From the pressures of the media to the failure to conceive. The two girls sat and listened in silence, absorbing the piles of information you were presenting them with. And, when you were finally finished, Eileen said, “Maybe you should go to the doctors about that. If it’s been a year and you still aren’t pregnant, it might be something they can fix… you know, cure.”

“I’d rather not know if there’s something wrong with me,” you grumbled. 

“I think you would. It would be better to know, right? As Eileen said, it might be something they have some pills for,” Nelly said.

“They have pills for everything,” you sighed. “But fine, I’ll go to the doctors. Only if you come with me.”

“Of course,” Nelly smiled softly as Eileen leaned over to squeeze your trembling hand. “Are you going to tell Harry?”

“I’ll tell him if something happens. If they say it’s nothing, then he doesn’t need to know,” you said quietly. 

Nelly and Eileen exchanged a silent glance, before Eileen said, “It’s been a year, Y/N. It must be something.”

17 january, 2019

You sat nervously opposite the doctor. Your knee was bouncing and your heart rate can’t have been healthy. You had gotten up early, leaving Harry asleep in bed, to come and collect your results from the doctor. She smiled softly at you and it definitely made you feel more comfortable. “So, Y/N. Your results came back and it appears you have Diminished Ovarian Reserve, or DOR. Basically, you have a lower number or quality of eggs, which makes it harder to reproduce. Essentially, you don’t have as much reproductive potential left within your ovaries.”

Her words quickly became a ringing noise rooted deep within your ears. Your eyes fell from her own and found the horrible carpet on the floor far more comforting. You were alone now and you were beginning to wish you’d brought one of the girls or your mother or even Harry. “I-is there any kind of treatment?” you asked. 

She leant back in her chair slightly, interlocking her hands on her lap, “We can prescribe some supplements, which will hopefully increase fertility. But if you want a child, there’s always adoption or we can even try IVF. It’s up to you, Y/N.”

You nodded, grabbing your coat from the chair beside you and slipping your arms into it. You thanked her quickly, taking the supplements and leaving. Everything seemed to pass you by in a blur. It took you a long time to collect your thoughts. And, as you reached your front door, it hit you that you were to blame for the lack of positive pregnancy tests. It was your eggs that were fucking it all up. You might even have a baby right now if it weren’t for you. You took a moment to wipe away the tears that were falling freely from your eyes. You rested your head against the front door before finally pushing your way through. 

Harry was sat at the piano in the corner of the living room. He was still in his pyjamas and there was a glass of half-drunken orange juice on the coffee table. He didn’t turn to look at you when he heard you enter, he just said, “Morning, love. Where have you been? You weren’t here when I woke up.”

He was busy scribbling in his notebook to take any real interest in your whereabouts. This was the problem with the hole you and Harry had dug yourselves trying to conceive: nobody cared anymore. He didn’t care where you went or how you were. He didn’t care how your mother was. You didn’t care about how his day was. You didn’t care how his friends were getting on.  Nobody cared anymore and it was driving you insane. “The doctors,” you said firmly, standing in the doorframe of the living room, waiting for him to turn around. To face you. To fucking look you in the eye and not be a coward for once in his life.

But alas, he didn’t. He kept his eyes trained on the scribbles of lyrics, “Oh yeah? How was it?”

“Shit,” you snapped. “It was fucking shit. I can’t have kids. We can’t have kids. If you cared to know.”

“How come?” he asked, his back paying you more attention than his eyes. 

“Because, Harry, I’m fucking infertile. Okay? I’m infertile. I have Diminished Ovarian Reserve. So, we can’t have kids, so there’s no point in even trying anymore.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. “We can try again later.”

He wasn’t listening. He didn’t know what you were talking about. You finally snapped in that moment. You’d had enough of living like this. “Why are we trying, Harry?” you asked, the tears you’d tried so hard to hide resurfacing.

“Because I thought you wanted kids,” he replied. 

“No, Harry. Why are we trying? With us. Neither of us cares about the other, we’re both miserable. You’d rather be anywhere but here. And I can’t stand this house any longer. We’re both fucking miserable so why are we still trying? Why are we still fighting for this? Why are we still fighting for a relationship that died months ago?”

He turned to look at you. The scribbling had stopped. The tinkering on the piano had stopped. He was silent. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that, so he didn’t think about it, “I am happy, love. Can’t you see?”

You shook your head, stepping back, “No, you’re not. You’re angry at me and you’ll only blame me because I can’t give us children. I need to leave, Harry.”

“What? Y/N, wait,” he said, but you’d already marched up the stairs to your bedroom. He knew you were packing your things up and what you couldn’t pack you’d come back for later. He knew he couldn’t stop you from leaving. He knew he’d be wrong for trying. Maybe you were right, maybe he was miserable, but he still loved you. God, he was so fucking in love with you. And now he was watching the girl he’d loved since he first laid eyes on her dancing in that club with her friends in 2013 walk out of his life. 

When you came back down the stairs, some bags thrown over your shoulder, you stood in the doorway to get a final glimpse of him. He looked up, meeting your eyes. Your pretty eyes. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. But he knew you weren’t apologising for the outburst. He knew you weren’t going to come crying into his arms and apologise profusely. He knew he wouldn’t have the chance to explain that they could work through it together. As they always had done before. 

“Me too,” he said quietly. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And you were gone. You did love him. You felt obliged to tell him so. But you needed to leave. You were being strangled in that relationship, in that house. And you knew he was too. You’d grown to resent each other, but you were sure you would love him forever.

13 april, 2021

The baby gurgled loudly, clasping your hair between his fingers. You smiled down at the little miracle in your arms. He was only six months old. But what a little bundle of joy he was. You looked up at the sight of Eileen emerging from the shop, tucking her mask into her pocket, “Thanks for taking care of him.”

You handed him back to his mother. You had swiftly agreed to look after baby Oliver while Eileen ducked into a shop to buy Charlie his birthday present. You both wandered through the hot streets of London, patrolling the fresh fruit market that radiated a vast variety of marvellous scents. Oliver was asleep, the sun making him tired. You liked the little world you’d built up for yourself since 2019. You were a couple of years older with a flat of your own, with plants you still forget to water. And yet, you couldn’t help the prideful smile that took over your features when you heard that Harry had won a Grammy. Any bitterness you’d felt for him soon dissipated. It was your fault for the collapse of your relationship as much as it was his. 

But, when you saw Harry Styles purchasing some fresh strawberries just a few metres away, it all came flooding back. A tsunami of forgotten memories. You felt like a young and innocent university student who fell in love too quickly again. Maybe that was the reason you approached him. As he turned to leave the stand, his eyes connected with yours. You smiled softly, “Hi, Harry.”

[cassanovancats]

felicitate. four.

three < current > five

March 2017

White Day is only a few days away when you begin to notice Rika’s form is absent from your training sessions lately. There shouldn’t be any reason for this, at least not one you’re aware of. Your class celebrated Yuta’s birthday just two days ago, and both the curse and cursed seemed fine, great even. You decide it’s best to bring this up casually - Yuta was still so skittish and Rika would be able to hear whatever you said anyways. So while you lead Yuta through a yoga session, you ask, “How’s Rika?”

He flusters and falls from his side-plank variation pose. The band he was using as an aid tangles around his calf. You debate and decide to leave him. If you touched him now, he might spontaneously combust. That thought makes you giggle a little. You move to change to a position that meant you weren’t looking at him. Hopefully, that’s less pressure.

Yuta speaks up when you’re fully downward dog, leading you to believe your plan worked. “She’s fine, yeah, fine. Just uh - tired?” You nod but inwardly roll your eyes. You shift your hips in to move to upward facing dog and make eye contact again.

“Just checking. I miss her hanging out, you know?” It’s obvious Yuta just lied, curses don’t get tired, but it’s better to not call him out this time. You just have to hope it wasn’t anything you did. “I know you fell but at this point you’re just slacking. Get back on your mat,” you say, changing the topic to something safe.

You’re back in downward facing dog when the door slides open. A familiar voice drawls, “Why are you still working out, dummy? Forgot our plans?” You scramble to your feet.

“Gumi!” You rush to hug him despite his obvious distaste. “What time is it? Do I still have time to shower or will we be late?”

Your little brother snorts and pushes you away, “Please do, you smell. You have,” he checks his watch, “fifteen minutes.”

“Gumi! That’s not enough time!” You yell, already sprinting towards the showers at the back of the gym. Yuta pouts at how quickly you seemed to forget his presence. That face doesn’t escape Megumi.

“So, you like my idiot sister?”

“W-what! No, no no no, it’s not like that! She just helps t-train me and -!” Yuta knows he’s rambling but he can’t seem to stop talking.

“Whatever,” Megumi has better things to worry about than repressed hormones. He's known that Yuta had a crush on you since the first time he came to campus to train with you after Yuta arrived. Your classmate couldn’t stop staring and seemed disheartened by the fact that you called Megumi by a shortened version of his given name. He had pouted until Satoru showed up and made a spectacle of ‘Team Gojo’ being all together again. Like you three didn’t, at minimum, have a weekly dinner together.

“If you ever want to acknowledge them, you’ll have to get approved by Satoru.” Yuta feels like he also needs the approval of this boy, but he leaves that unsaid. Just nods dumbly. Probably a good thing he didn’t respond, because you barrel through the doors you disappeared from.

When you rush past him, Yuta gets a strong whiff of the floral scent he’s come to associate with you. Megumi laughs under his breath at the blissed out look. Your hair drips water onto your tee shirt and it’s clear you rushed. “Really, really sorry to dip, Yuta. Run through those stretches we did last week to cool down!” Your fingers distractedly pull your wet hair into a braid as you instruct him. “Oh! Tell Maki I won’t be at afternoon training, Satoru already knows and gave permission. Megumi, grab my duffel?” Already carrying it, he rolls his eyes. “I should be back tomorrow morning, but don’t count on it.”

“Wait, but why -?”

“Gotta dash. Bye, Yuta!” You run ahead of your brother, headed to your room to grab Tsumiki’s gifts. Megumi gives a nod and follows after you. Alone and without anyone around to judge, Yuta groans and buries his face into his yoga mat. God, why can’t he just be normal.

When he looks back up, Rika has taken your spot on your mat. You left in such a hurry, you didn’t even clean up. He’ll have to drop it off in your room. “Ya’ know, it’s not that I’m mad about you liking her,” she begins. “It’s just…. I know we can’t be together so I do want you to be happy. I just feel jealous. Especially since you got her that super fancy chocolate for White Day,” Rika finishes with a pout.

Yuta doesn’t really know how to reassure her. So he does what he promised when he was ten, and is just honest. “I’m here to learn how to let you go, Rika. Neither of us know how to do that yet. I can’t be in any kind of relationship until I learn. It wouldn’t be fair to either of you.”

Rika hums and picks at the corner of your mat. “Well. I think it’s more than just us two you’re worried about.”

“What?”

“Inumaki seems pretty interested in the both of you too. You may not see it, but all three of you are pretty smitten. It’s actually kind of gross.”

“That’s - he - no!” Rika just laughs and dissolves her form. Yuta, still flustered, continues to mutter as he collects the things you left and wipes down any used equipment. When he finally leaves, it’s just his luck he runs (literally) into Inumaki who looks unfairly handsome in a fitted tee and sweatpants. Even his markings are uncovered, which makes Yuta groan, tuck tail, and run away. Yuta can hear Rika laughing in his mind.

“Tuna mayo?” Inumaki tilts his head to the side but shrugs off the odd behavior.

-

July 2017

JJH Thots the good gojo: guysss help which tie do i get :( fushiguro: isn’t satoru with you the good gojo: yea but u know he’s shit at gifts maki: Both of those are ugly, (y/n). Do you hate the man? osamu: the cheetah print trophy husband: I like that one too! the good gojo: this is why you two are my favorites

From a few cities over, Yuta flushes at your words. Inumaki notices and kicks his foot. He’s laughing when he says, “Nori,” but Yuta can spot a faint pink over the hem of his collar too.

You turn around in the middle of the street when you hear a loud, “(y/n)-chan!” Satoru is speed-walking towards you, waving an arm that is covered in different shopping bags. His long legs have him beside you in a split second, even without the use of cursed energy. “Are you done yet? Nanami won’t even thank you properly you know. Why don’t you just get gifts for your precious Nii-chan?” He pouts and takes the two bags you’re carrying.

“One, it’s not your birthday. Two, you could buy anything you want already. Three, who's to say I didn’t already get you one?” You pull a box of macaroons out from one of the bags he took. Satoru moves to snatch it immediately but you put it behind your back. Of course, if he wanted, he’d just grab it, but your Nii-chan would never deny playing a game with you. “You can’t get it until we’re back on campus! I’m already tired and this is my bribe to go home early.”

“But (y/n)-chan,” he whines.

“Nu-uh. I promised a movie night with Toge and Yuta and I don’t wanna be late.” You realize too late you revealed too much, because your brother suddenly looks like a very successful cat.

“Why didn’t you just say so? I would never make my little sister late for her first date.”

You blush furiously, “Who says it’s my first?”

“It better be your first.”

“It’s not even a date,” you roll your eyes. “Neither like me like that, and if it was a date, wouldn’t one be a third-wheel?”

“Tricycles are pretty fun.” Your brother says casually. You roll your eyes again and add a gag for good measure. “Seriously, (y/n). You should know you have my full support to love anyone and everyone you want. Not that you need it, though. You’re a Gojo. We do as we please anyways.”

You tear up at his sincerity and throw your arms around your brother, or at least the best you can with his bags in the way. The two of you are frequently physically and verbally affectionate but not often in such a serious manner. You know there’s a deep love between you; for a long time, the two of you only had each other. Eventually, your family expanded to include Megumi and Tsumiki, but neither ever took the Gojo name. You and Satoru had a special bond. “Thank you,” you stutter around tears. You hope he understands it’s not just a thank you for the reassurance but a thank you for giving you such a life.

“Come on, no crying. You can’t go on your date with puffy eyes, you’ll scare both of them away.” He pats your head softly and just laughs when you punch him in the gut.

[sirius-archive]

Dare or Dare (Prompt)

Pairing: James Potter x Reader, mentioned Sirius Black x Reader

Word Count: 2256

Warnings: Swearing, underage drinking, mentions of sex i guess?

Request: Could you do 13 and 15 of random with James or Sirius maybe? :) - Anonymous

Prompt: 13. “YOU SAID BE HONEST STOP HITTING ME!” 15. “I’m too sober for this.” “You don’t even drink.” “Maybe I should start.” 

A/N: First prompt finally finished!! please send in more! the list is pinned to my blog. Enjoy <3

***

It may have been cliche, but it was a common tradition for you and your friends to steal food from the kitchens, get drunk and play stupid muggle games late at night in the Gryffindor common room.

The fire crackled and popped, emitting shards of amber light that jarred with the dark shadows, creating a golden-warm atmosphere that encompassed you and your friends. You sat crossed-legged on the ground between Mary and Marlene Marlene while the boys - James, Sirius, Remus and Peter - sat opposite you, forming a circle that sort of resembled a seance. Littered in the centre of your ‘Friendship Circle’ (coined affectionately by James) was your plunder; a variety of puddings and treats and left-over sweets from a recent Hogsmeade trip.

Soon enough, two bottles of firewhiskey were brandished and passed around the group, and everyone was taking long sips from the bottle - everyone except for you.

“Boo,” Sirius jeered, “You’re boring.”

“Well excuse me if I don’t want liver failure,” you drawled, rolling your eyes, “Besides, six people sharing from the same bottle? That’s unsanitary.”

“What? You worried you’ll catch boy cooties,” Sirius teased, “Because last time I checked, you didn’t mind boy cooties when I saw you making out with Prongs in the broom closet last week. And trust me, none of that was exactly ‘sanitary’.”

You felt your face glow with embarrassment as laughter bubbled over the group. You glanced at James, at the little curl of his lips that wasn’t quite as mischievous as a smirk, but not as open and carefree as a smile. It was somewhere in between...like he wasn’t embarrassed of kissing you, of even being lumped in the same sentence as you. It made your heart swell, your cheeks no longer warm from embarrassment.

“Why don’t we stop harassing (Y/N) and Potter and get on with some games!” Marlene urged, gracefully saving you from Sirius.

“Yes!” Peter agreed, “I managed to find a load of fun muggle games in this book!”

He pulled out a book from his bag and brandished it before you friends.

“101 Party Games to Play at your Bachelorette Party,” Remus read aloud, frowning, “Some how, I don’t like the sound of that.”

“I do!” Mary said eagerly, leaning forward to get a good look at the book.

“Whats a Bachelorette Party?” asked Marlene, brows knitted in confusion.

“It’s a party where a bride and her bridal party celebrate her last night as a ‘single’ woman,” Mary explained excitedly, “My mums been to loads. She always comes back with weird penis shaped memorabilia.”

“Well, what’s the hold up, Wormtail?” James asked, grinning broadly, “Let’s crack it open!”

Peter dropped the book in the middle of the circle and sat back as Sirius opened the first page. A devilish grin spread slowly across his face as he read the index.

“This is brilliant!” Sirius laughed, flicking the page, “’Stick it in the Hole’ a game inspired by all those sex ed classes you pretended to listen to in High School. Two people are required, much like the real thing.”

“Muggles are insane…” Marlene decided.

“Dunk the Weenie in the Creampie,” Sirius continued, “The only time when it is encouraged to be bad at cooking. Simply tie a sausage to your waist with a short rope and try to dunk the sausage in the centre of a cream pie. Beware, this game is messy.”

“Yeah, I’m not playing that,” said Remus, disapprovingly, “I’m not sure what’s worse; having to embarrass myself by grinding on a cream pie in front of my friends or watching you lot do it.”

“Agreed,” said Peter, who was blushing furiously.

“What about this?” Sirius perked up, reading intently, “Bridal Truth or Dare. A sexy twist on a classic game. Players must reveal deep truths or suffer through scandalous dares. The more debauchery, the better!’”

“I’m down for a game of truth or dare,” Mary piped up excitedly.

“Same!” Marlene chimed.

“Me too!” said Peter.

“I have no shame and I don’t believe in regrets so I’ll play,” said James, winking at you.

“Oh what the hell,” Remus shrugged, sighing, “So long as the fire whiskey’s still flowing.”

“What do you take us for, amateurs?” Sirius gasped, his tone oozing with mock-offence.

Everyone turned to look at you. An unpleasant burning sensation prickled beneath your cheeks.

“Alright,” you sighed, grabbing a sugar quill, “I’ll play.”

Marlene and Mary giggled excitedly as Sirius dropped the book in his lap and skimmed the first page.

“Right,” he said, importantly, “If someone asks for truth, they have to answer or risk being forced to do a dare from the list of Extreme Dares.”

“I like the sound of that,” said James, craning to peer at the list.

“I don’t,” you muttered, glancing at Remus.

You knew beyond a doubt that you’d be asked about you and James’ complicated history by one of your friends and, if you refused to answer, would probably have to do something embarrassing with him like let him fondle your breasts or something stupid like that.

“Alright, so the eldest starts,” said Sirius and he grinned, “Which is me so suck it losers.”

Everyone groaned. Having Sirius start a game of Bridal Truth or Dare was going to be excruciating to say the least.

Sirius feigned a deep look of hurt, clutching his chest in pain, “I had no idea you guys thought so highly of me!”

“Hurry up, Padfoot,” Remus grumbled, taking a swing of fire whiskey, “Lets just rip it off like a band aid.”

Sirius’ lips spread into a wicked, calculating smirk. You knew that look all too well; it was the look of someone who was either barking mad or insanely clever forming a devious master plan.

Tapping his chin thoughtfully, he pretended to think for one attractive moment before narrowing his eyes on you.

“(Y/N), Bridal Truth or Dare? Quickly now, or we’ll all sober up and lose our nerve.”

You thought that was quite impossible for two reasons: one, everyone except you had had enough fire whiskey to drown their veins in alcohol and, two, Gryffindors never lost their nerve.

You sighed long sufferingly, “Alright, truth.”

“Bridal truth,” Sirius corrected and then furrowed his brows in thought. His eyes sparked again with a look of wild excitement, “Have you and Prongs ever reached third base?”

Marlene and Mary stifled their giggles. James shot you an apologetic look, grimacing at Sirius.

Something about the challenging look in Sirius’ eye rankled you, grating obnoxiously on your competitive streak. Usually, you were more rational, more ‘pick-your-battles-carefully’, but now, Sirius was closing in on your relationship-not-relationship with James, something you considered deeply personal. If Sirius wanted to play this game, then he’d better be prepared to lose.

“Padfoot,” James began, glancing at you, “I think that’s-“

“No,” you answered, defiantly, “James and I have not reached third base, and that’s only because we kept getting interrupted by you.”

There was a stunned sort of silence at the tone of your voice. Everyone was used to you denying your relationship-not-relationship with James, so your candor was like a splash of cold water in the middle of winter.

You broke the silence by snatching the bottle from Sirius’ grasp, “I’m too sober for this shit.”

“You don’t even drink,” said Marlene in shock.

You uncorked the bottle, “Maybe I should start.”

Tipping your head back, you took a long drag of the fire whiskey and winced as it seared the back of your throat. A moment later, a tickling warmth kindled in your stomach, and what felt like gold shot through your veins, filling you up.

Everyone was staring at you, shocked and speechless. You - Gryffindor prefect, one of the top performing students in the school, rule abider and teachers pet - were breaking a dozen school rules by drinking fire whiskey and admitting quite blatantly that you and James would have had sex if it weren’t for Sirius.

Their shocked expressions made you smirk.

“Are you lot going to keep staring at me or are we going to play?”

***

An hour into the game, and your brain was swimming in pools of intoxicated bliss. It was like peering through rose-tinted glasses - everything was hilariously funny, and your courage and impulsivity had been dialled up by about a hundred while your common sense had abandoned you.

Everyone had participated in an array of embarrassing truths and even more embarrassing dares. Peter had asked you what it was like to kiss Sirius (you and Sirius had a few…flings…in the past, before you had realised your feelings for James).

“Be honest now,” Sirius winked at you, “You don’t have to lie because ol’ Padfoot is here.”

James looked slightly amused, but there was a glint of something dark, something wild in the mosaic of his eyes.

You took your time, formulating a response.

“Eh, he’s alright” you shrugged, nonchalantly, “I’ve had better. A little overrated, if you ask me.”

That had been a mistake. Without warning, Sirius had launched into a wild tickle attack, scrambling toward you and poking his fingers between your ribs. Laughter erupted from your lips as you keeled backward, lying flat on your back as Sirius clambered on top of you.

“YOU SAID BE HONEST STOP TICKLING ME!” you shrieked, laughing hysterically, “SIRIUS! GEROFF”

James was the first to pull Sirius off you, smacking him around the head.

“Ouch!” Sirius yelped, but he smiled at James’ playful expression.

The hours ebbed away.

Soon, everyone was getting bored with Bridal truth or dare and instead decided to play Dare or Dare. You, Marlene and Mary had been dared to race each other stripping your bras off without taking your tops off. While you had done it a million times before, it had been significantly more difficult to do while drunk.

Remus had been dared to sneak into Filch’s office and leave him a love note and James and Sirius had been dared to kiss - which they did, passionately and unabashed.

“Alright,” James had smirked as he stared at you, “(Y/N). Dare or Dare?”

You pretended to consider your options, “Hmm…Dare!”

“I was hoping you’d say that,” James grinned, dodgy and lopsided, “Alright, I dare you to sprint past Dumbledore’s office, topless.”

You grinned, climbing to your feet, “I’ll do you one better.”

Slowly, while maintaining eye contact with James, you stripped into your underwear. James’ expression cycled rapidly between awe and arousal, and you couldn’t help noticing the way he squirmed, trying to casually cover his lap with a pillow.

Marlene let out a low whistle, startling you. You had forgotten about the others.

Grabbing your cloak, your friends all made your way to Dumbledore’s office, dodging out of Filch’s sight and weaving around Peeves, who was throwing furniture around in Filch’s office.

It was only after you watched Nearly Headless Nick sweep past Dumbledores office when you unclasped your robe and let it pool around your feet. Moonlight soaking into your skin, you stepped into the empty corridor and took a deep breath. The air was cool, prickling your skin with goosebumps. Your cheeks, however, felt hot and flushed from the alcohol and adrenaline.

“Go!” urged Sirius and, without hesitating, you ran.

Arms flailing in the air, you sprinted past Dumbledore’s office while your friends giggled madly. Once you reached the corridor, you turned around and raced back but came to a sudden halt when a figure stepped around the corner.

Severus Snape was standing at the end of the corridor, a look of shock and embarrassment creeping into his thin, pallid face.

You immediately took a step back. Severus had become your friend after meeting him in Diagon Alley before your first year at Hogwarts. You’d stopped associating with him after he had started associating with Death Eaters and you had noticed a definite change in his attitude toward muggleborns.

“(Y/N),” he said, softly, as he drank in the view of you, your skin glowing in the moonlight, “W-What-?”

James and Sirius stepped forward protectively and Remus draped your cloak around your shoulders, forcing you behind him.

“What do you want, Snivellus?” James spat, “Looking for another kitten to drown for Lord Stinkamort, are you?”

Severus’ expression contorted into a look of fury. He grabbed for his wand when you stepped forward, lacing your fingers with James’.

“He’s not worth it,” you whispered, and with another urgent tug, you pulled James away, Sirius following.

Perhaps because you were there, neither James nor Severus attacked one another as you retreated to the Gryffindor common room. James was grasping your hand tightly, still enraged by Severus’ presence, but that changed when you pulled him around a corner and kissed him deeply.

“What was that for?” James asked in surprise.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” you asked, playfully, “Oh, alright then…” you started to saunter off but James pulled you back into his arms and crashed his lips onto yours, stealing the breath from your lungs and the words from your tongue.

Panting as he pulled away, James looked around and spotted something to your left. You followed his gaze, where it landed on the Prefect Bathrooms.

“Fancy a dip?” he asked, a sparkle in his eyes.

“Definitely,” you smirked, tugging on his belt, “And this time, we won’t be interrupted.”

***

@siriusmuch  @beyoncesdragon​ @moon-zodiac @mflufflion​

[quillsandtypos]

Cheer up!

Summary: anon requested the reader being down for no reason the sunset curve boys cheering her up

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: lots of platonic cuddles

Pairings: none

Did I expose my touch starvedness with this one? Yes. Also terribly sorry to the anon who requested this and then had to wait two weeks.

...........................................

Julie just kept walking by as she watched you flop down on your bed. You stayed face down, not really feeling the need to get up.

You thought you heard her lean on the frame in your doorway but when you turned around no one was there so you just shrugged it off and face planted back on your bed.

But pretty soon you jumped up when you felt a hand tap your shoulder.

“Luke!”

He grimaced. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized.

“Didn’t Julie just tell you guys off about boundaries?” You narrowed your eyes at him.

He looked slightly guilty. “Yes, but there’s an exception today,” Luke hinted.

“And what would that be?” you grumbled.

“Because you’re all upset and shit,” he explained.

You half expected him to be joking but he was looking at you with complete seriousness. You felt your heart melt a little bit.

“And why do you know that?” you asked out of curiosity.

“Because you’ve been moping around all day!” Julie exclaimed. You turned to see your sister in the doorway.

“I have not!” you defended yourself. You looked to Luke for support but he was seemingly very interested in looking out your windows.

“Y/n you have barely left your room today, so you’re hanging out with them till you stop being a sad bitch,” she demanded.

You started to say how uncalled for she was being but she just ignored you and walked out.

You groaned and flopped back down on your bed. Luke’s lips twitched up in a way that you could tell he was trying not to laugh at you. “Oh no, I’m gonna need backup, aren’t I?” Luke rhetorically asked.

Before you could utter an ‘I’m fine’ the three were in your room. “Y/n you know what always makes me feel better when I’m sad?” Reggie asked. You rolled over to your side. “What Reggie?”

He started backing into a corner of your room. “Doing cannonballs.” He started sprinting over to your bed and you quickly rolled off with a yelp as you hit the ground.

Luke high fived Reggie, “Nice, we got her off the bed,” he cheered.

“You guys couldn’t have done that in a way that didn’t potentially send her to the hospital?” Alex asked. He pulled you to your feet, and you squeezed his hands gratefully.

“Meh, it was the more fun way,” Reggie shrugged.

Alex rolled his eyes. “Now come on, we’re going to the studio,” he told you.

You groaned, “No thanks, I’m just gonna stay here.” You could tell by the looks on their faces, that they were not going to give up that easily.

“Y/n I will carry you down there,” Reggie threatened. He crossed his arms, and Luke put his arm around him in agreement. You hopefully looked to Alex for defense but he shook his head at you.

“I’ll come on my own,” you agreed, not wanting to risk them dropping you.

Luke and Reggie shared a glance before trailing behind you to the studio. “Okay, so what do you guys want me to do in here?” you asked, as you walked through the doors.

“Well it’s more of what we want to show you,” Alex half explained.

You raised your eyebrows in confusion.

“We were waiting for a specific time to show you it, but we decided what better time than now,” Luke continued. Whatever it was, they all looked antsy to show it to you.

“So what is it?” Their excitement was starting to pass onto you.

“You have to close your eyes!” Reggie suddenly remembered.

With tight lips and suspicious eyes, you analyzed the three of them. Despite your love of the three you did not trust them for a second.

Luke tilted his head down and glanced up at you. “Come on y/n, you’ll be fine,” he insisted.

You nervously let your eyes shut. You could hear the three shuffling around, and you were pretty sure you heard someone trip; which you had to stifle a giggle at. You felt someone nearing you and you accidentally held your breath.

“Okay y/n you can open your eyes,” Reggie called out.

You opened them to see Alex hiding something behind his back, he pulled it out to show it to you. It was a black cropped leather jacket with little studs scattered on it, he turned it around to show the back which neatly said 'sunset curve manager' in white paint.

You took it into your hands. “Did you guys make this?” you asked in amazement.

“Well, we needed a little help from Flynn, but yeah the four of us made it,” Alex admitted.

You felt your eyes start to heat up. “Thank you guys.”

You couldn’t help but let your mind wander to how much time and effort they had probably put into your gift. Even though you weren’t actually a part of their band, they truly cared about you as if you were. You hugged the jacket to your chest, “I’m literally never taking this off,” you laughed, as your eyes started watering freely.

“Oh no, she’s crying. This is supposed to make her not sad,” Reggie joked. Luke mockingly elbowed him in the ribs.

“Do you need a hug?” Alex offered with open arms.

“Yeah, I’ll take one,” you agreed. You wrapped your arms around him, his sweatshirt was nice and soft, but still cold, since he was a ghost. You hoped you were leaking your tears onto his clothes.

“Can we get in on the hug?” Reggie hopefully asked.

“Sure,” you responded. Before you could move to let them in, they decided it was just best to squish you between them. Luke was to your left and Reggie was to your right. They all tightly squeezed you, as if it was the last time they were gonna get a hug. You could feel all of their hands against your back and you let yourself relax into their arms. As much as you were enjoying the closeness, after a while, it did feel like they were cutting off your air flow.

“Guys, I think you might be killing me,” you announced.

“Oh trust me it’s not that painful you’ll be fine,” Alex told you. You couldn’t currently see his face, but you were certain that he was smirking.

“I love you guys, but I’m not dying today,” you retorted.

They all backed up to give you some room to breathe. “So you wanna talk about what’s wrong?” Luke suggested.

You took a moment to put your feelings into words. “I don’t know, I guess I don’t really have a reason; I’ve just been really down today,” you admitted.

“You know what helps me with that?” Reggie asked.

You turned to him with wide eyes. “Reggie if you are about to almost land on me again I swear to god,” you threatened.

Reggie couldn’t help but laugh at that, and you heard Luke snicker. “No, I was going to say watching a comedy tv show,” he explained.

“Oh, nevermind then,” you backpedaled.

“Come on, I’ll set up the projector,” Luke offered.

“I really don’t want to bother you guys though,” you brought up.

“It’s not bothering if we want to spend time with you, and besides you would really be letting them down they haven’t been able to have a movie night in weeks,” Alex said.

“Are you manipulating me into self care right now?” you questioned.

Alex shrugged and his lips quirked up. “Maybe a little bit.”

“Wow, that’s a low blow for you Alex,” you scoffed. He just shrugged again. But his plan worked, you sat yourself down on the floor, and gladly took the blanket Reggie gave you.

“So what are we watching?” Luke asked the group of you.

“Parks and Rec?” you suggested.

“Sounds good to me,” Alex agreed, and Reggie shook his head.

Luke managed to have minimal struggles getting the show to play but he eventually did and came to sit next to the three of you.

It didn’t take long for all of you to be in a big cuddle pile on the floor along with various pillows and blankets. You were pretty sure Reggie was snoring by the fourth episode. Luke and Alex were practically laying on top of each other. Reggie’s head rested on top of your legs and Luke’s arm was resting on top of your stomach. In that moment you were perfectly comfy and completely happy. The blissful happiness wrapped a warmth around your body, that felt very similar to the hug from earlier. The warmth gently put you to sleep within minutes.

You awoke what felt like minutes later to the lights being flicked on. “Y/n Dad says it’s time for dinner!” Carlos called.

You groaned, “Carlos I was sleeping.”

That did not make Carlos look any more sympathetic. “And we are trying to be eating,” Carlos retorted. The boys started stirring at hearing speaking.

“Fine I’m getting up,” you surrendered.

“So?” Carlos questioned.

“So what?” you asked, as you grabbed your new jacket.

“Did they make you not a sad bitch?”

“Carlos! You can’t say that word!” You heard Luke start loudly laughing behind you.

“Well did they?” he intently asked.

You glanced back at the boys adoringly, “Yes, they did.”

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (14)

  jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: it’s time they got down to business… or isn’t it 😳

words: 6.2k

  chapter fourteen

You spent nearly the whole Saturday on the phone with Inna – because she refused to let you hang up until you gave her a play-by-play of last night’s party (and all that happened after) – and, by the time you finally ended the phone call, you were half-deaf from all of her—supportive but rather alarming—screaming.

And then, before you were ready for it, you and Jungkook had another Sunday night dinner at his parents’ house.

Admittedly, you thought you’d feel uncomfortable seeing his parents again after having learnt that they gave the push that convinced Jungkook to cut his ties with you off, but this feeling only clouded your mind for about fifteen minutes – or, in other words, for the period of time that it took for Jungkook to arrive from his house to your dormitory.

By the time he got here, all that was left in your mind – and in the air around you as soon as you opened the door to let him in – was ease. Routine.

Like you were supposed to spend every Sunday night with his family, holding hands with him under the dinner table. Like this wasn’t somehow weird or unusual, or even awkward. Like this was how it’d always been – with no seven-year-long gaps – and how it was always supposed to be.

Even touching Jungkook after the last time you’d seen him was, most surprisingly, not at all different from touching him before your last conversation. It still caused lighting bolts to explode inside of your stomach, and you were used to the sensation by now.

The only difference was that now you knew.

And knowing allowed you to truly come back to the life you were once a part of.

It felt like the last time you’d been to his house, you only allowed yourself to set one foot in, holding yourself back in case this would all go wrong and hurt you, but now you were ready to try again. Now you were ready to go into it with your whole body – open chest and all.

Sure, the possibility of getting hurt was still there – even if it didn’t feel like it when Jungkook joked about how his mom was more excited to see you than him – but sometimes you had to believe—not just hope—that nothing bad was going to happen, in order to make it true.

And truly nothing bad seemed on the horizon as Jungkook – true to the promise he’d made earlier this week – took you to the ice cream shop near his home as soon as dinner was over so you could pick up some desserts for yourselves. You found the chocolate-chip cookie-flavored ice cream – the one he knew you loved – and all was bliss.

“What is it with you,” you asked him when the two of you walked out of the shop and Jungkook was happily licking two different flavors on his cone – strawberry and mint, “and these flavors?”

“They’re good together,” he defended, pushing his cone towards you. “Want to try?”

You scrunched your nose. “No. I’ll stick with my chocolate—”

“Boring.”

“Hey,” you gave him a look, unaware of the chocolate around the corners of your lips and how utterly irresistible it made you look to him, “you’ve been picking the sweetest flavors of ice cream ever since we were kids. Don’t call me boring if I choose to postpone my diabetes diagnosis.”

“Neither of us is getting diabetes,” he said, absentmindedly extending his hand to wipe the chocolate from your lips and then sucking his thumb into his mouth.

You forgot what you were talking about for a moment as you looked away from him, your face burning hot at the sight, but your hands freezing cold from the ice cream.

Jungkook didn’t notice and carried on. 

“Do you remember when we used to collect those wooden popsicle sticks for no reason when we were kids?” he asked.

“I—yeah, I remember,” you said, taking a distracted bite your ice cream and then wincing when your temples froze. “I-I’m pretty sure we had a reason, though. You said you wanted to build a Trojan horse.”

“Oh, that’s right!” his face lit up just like it did that day when you were eight and you told him you’d help him build it. “I never had enough patience for a project like that. Why did you get on board with it?”

“Because you were really excited for it,” you replied as nonchalantly as you could manage – even though you could see it in his eyes when you looked at him, he did not think this was nothing; it was important to him – and then hid your face in your ice cream again.

Jungkook watched you for another moment, his heart beating peacefully but his mind buzzing with memories. You always ate your ice cream the same way – nearly all of it at once – ever since you were a little kid. He’d always made fun of you for it – not cruelly, because seeing the exhilaration in your eyes and your ice-cream-covered face always made him feel inexplicably warm inside – but now he wanted to grab your hand, stop you, and clean your lips with his own.

“I still have the popsicle sticks in my room,” he said while his ice cream melted in the paper cup in his hand.

“You do?” you asked, turning to look at him and making his suffering so much worse when you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “Why did you keep them all this time?”

Jungkook was glad you’d reached the gate of his house because that meant he could turn his back to you as he fumbled with the lock – it wasn’t a complicated mechanism, he just needed to look at something else for a bit – and tried to get his lungs to function properly again.

“I don’t know,” he said, finally opening the gate. “I guess I was hoping to still build that horse one day.”

You scoffed at this – Jungkook gave you a dignified look in return – and lingered by the gate for a second before you realized that he’d stopped to let you enter first.

“I’m not mocking,” you explained in response to the look on his face. “It’s actually great that you kept it.”

His mouth dried up when he closed the gate and turned around to walk towards the house before noticing how warm your gaze was. Then, to avoid you reading through him and figuring out what he was feeling, he stuffed a mouthful of ice cream into his mouth.

“It is?” he asked with a slight lisp and then hissed as the freezing sensation went straight to his brain.

“Yeah,” you nodded, a more wary look in your eyes now that Jungkook was in pain from the self-inflicted brain-freeze. “It shows that you’re waiting until you’re mature enough to be able to invest your time into something that requires a lot of patience.”

Jungkook exhaled shakily – you assumed it was from the cold – and lead you past the impeccably-kept bushes in his front-yard, and towards the entrance into his house.

“Yeah, no,” he said, finishing his ice cream in a few large bites that must have very literally frozen his throat. He tried not to let it show as he said in a very breathy voice, “I don’t think it’s that deep.”

You shrugged your shoulders, slowly finishing your own ice cream as you brought your free hand over the vines that ran alongside the front wall of his house. “Maybe you don’t realize it.”

“Or maybe I kept the sticks because they reminded me of you.”

You stopped in front of his porch steps, unsure if you heard him right.

Swallowing the final bite of the chocolate-filled waffle cone, you looked at him in confusion – that was easy to mistake for disbelief, “hmm?”

Jungkook climbed up the steps – two at a time because he was always too impatient but, this time, also because he felt like he’d spoken too soon and he needed to put more distance between himself and you – and did not turn around to look at you until he fished his keys out from the pocket of his jeans, and unlocked the door.

“Yeah,” he said then, only giving you a glance as he opened the door and nodded his head inside, waiting for you to walk in first. “I still have a framed picture of us from middle school on my dresser.”

“Really?” you asked, looking at him even though he was now obviously avoiding your eyes.

There was even more surprise in your voice and it stung – you shouldn’t have been surprised about the fact that he cared enough to keep pictures that immortalized your friendship; but you were, and that was his fault – making him feel more self-conscious than he already was.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said and, smiling nervously, he stretched his hand behind his neck to scratch a nonexistent itch. “You want to see it?”

“Oh,” you were still standing on his doorstep while he was inviting you to his room. “Sure, yeah.”

You’d been to his room before – many times, in fact – so you hated the way the hairs on your skin stood up in anticipation. This wasn’t supposed to be any different from any other time you’d been in his room – was it? – and yet, you couldn’t help but remember that this was what you’d told yourself the last time you’d been there, too.

You two weren’t even the only people in his room that day – to celebrate the end of middle school, he’d invited his whole class – but, in your memory, everyone else was blurred and so dim that, sometimes, when you thought back on that day, you weren’t sure anyone else was even there. Or anywhere, for that matter. It’d felt like it was just you and him.

Clearing his throat, Jungkook suddenly brought you back to the present – and helped you realize just how hot your body was in spite of the excited shivers that ran down your back when you remembered his invitation – and you blinked before staggering inside.

Unaware of the several trips down memory lane that you’d taken while simply standing by his door, Jungkook extended a hand for you to take – and you took it, the movement automatic, as though you were in a well-rehearsed dance – and lead you towards the staircase.

You walked into his father on your way up the stairs, but he was on the phone so he merely gave his son a nod – and a smile for you – and then went on his way.

“You know, usually,” Jungkook said, sneering at the dismissal from his father, “parents would tell their kids to keep the door of their room open.”

Shivering again – but acting like you were most certainly not affected by the feeling of his palm against yours – you cocked an eyebrow at him.

“They would,” you said, licking your lips in an unconscious attempt to conceal the effect his not-at-all-innocent observation had on you, “but you’re twenty-three years old.”

He peered at you over his shoulder as he lead you down the second-floor hallway – nearly tripping over his feet when he saw you lick your lips – and then turned towards his room.

“Yes,” he said, “thank you for the newsflash,” and, stopping outside of his bedroom, he explained, “I meant, my parents never said that sort of thing to me. Not once.”

“Oh,” you caught on and lowered your eyes. “So, you brought a lot of people over, then?”

Jungkook smirked – you didn’t see this at first, but, when you raised your head again a minute later, confused by his silence, the smirk was still there – obviously very pleased to hear the not particularly well concealed shades of jealousy in your voice.

“None, actually. You’re the only one of my friends who’s been here,” he said then. “And I’ve already told you, I’ve never dated before.”

You were still unsure if he was pulling your leg. “Well, you don’t have to be dating people to bring them over to your—”

He pulled you into his room by your hand, not letting you finish your question. He closed the door and, this time, you two were really the only people here.

“I’m not like that,” he told you then, “but I understand where you’re coming from.”

You weren’t sure what you were asking him when you spoke, “you do?”

“Yeah,” he said, putting the paper cup of ice cream – that was as empty as your mind when Jungkook kept on holding your hand even though, now that you were in his room, there was no reason for it – on his desk, and then leaning against it to look at you. “It’s a nice campus tale, me constantly having girls over. But the only times I did sleep with someone, I didn’t do it in a place I lived. Nothing against that, I’m just a private person in that way, I guess.”

“Okay,” you nodded your head once and turned away from him, choosing to watch the starved pigeons, which crept around his backyard, through the window. “That sure makes your reputation better.”

Jungkook snickered, reluctantly letting go of your hand – but only because you were unconsciously pulling away from him – and attempting to explain, “I don’t mean to say I have sex outside—”

“No, I-I…” you cut him off – your flustered state intrigued him further – as you walked over to the dresser that he’d mentioned before. “I get what you mean. It’s an interesting version of “don’t shit where you eat”, but—”

He laughed, the sound taking you by surprise and cutting you off.

“I didn’t think of it that way,” he said, his eyes glistening with humor. “But the saying fits, I guess.”

He plopped down on his bed as he said this and the conversation about how many people he’d slept with had run out – which was good, since you hadn’t braced yourself for a discussion about your experiences in this particular area.

Instead, you took a minute to take the rest of his room in; it had changed so little since the last time you’d seen it. But it was the picture – that was right there where he said it was – that really took you back to the time when you spent nearly every afternoon in this room.

Jungkook smiled as he watched you reminisce, but not because he liked to see the way your features softened as you admired the picture from your childhood, but because you fit in this room far better than he did.

“Are you here a lot?” you asked as if having read his mind.

“How do you mean?”

“Well, you told me you moved out a while ago…” you said, “and the room looks just as I remember it, so I just—”

“Oh. No, I’m—I’m not here a lot,” he admitted. “But I do come when I visit my parents.”

“Which is once a year?”

He acknowledged the jab by pursing his lips and retorting, “a lot more than that now that I have you with me.”

You hummed in response but your mind was already elsewhere as you pointed at the ceremoniously locked nightstand in the corner next to his bed, “what’s this?”

It looked so eccentric and out-of-place – not the stand itself, but the chain that ran along both sides of it, a trusty lock in the middle – that you couldn’t help but feel curious.

Jungkook, however, leaped on all fours and crawled over his bed to guard the nightstand with his hands – as if you were Cyclops and were about to burn through the stand with a laser beam from your eyes – a defensive look on his face.

“It’s nothing,” he said even though this was obviously the most interesting piece of furniture in his whole room, “just a decoration.”

“With chains—?” you tried to ask but Jungkook jumped back to his previous position and patted the spot on the bed next to himself.

“Come on,” he said. “Sit. Do you remember the last time you were here?”

He knew this was the only way to change the topic – and the defeated look on your face confirmed his expectations – but, when you remained standing across the room, he patted the bed again, more eagerly this time.

“We celebrated our graduation from middle school with the other kids,” he said because you didn’t show any other sign to let him know whether you remembered or not. Jungkook could feel that you did, but, regardless, he still continued, “we played Truth or Dare. Remember?”

It was ridiculous he even had to ask that. Some days – and even more frequently now that you were talking again – your middle school graduation was all you could think about, even all of these years later.

“Barely,” you replied but you both knew it was a lie. “It was a long time ago, lots have happened since—”

“Someone dared you to kiss me,” he said with an innocent expression on his face – because he was just refreshing your memory – but it was quickly replaced by an amused grin when your eyes widened in surprise – not because you were shocked he’d said it, but because saying it aloud conjured up a much clearer image of that day; probably because now you knew that the memory of that day was as fresh in his mind as it was in yours.

“Sure,” you said, laughing weakly to hide how warm your hands, your face, and your whole body was. “That was a thing that, uh… happened.”

“So,” Jungkook was grinning but it was only an attempt to conceal his own anxiety – if he stopped grinning, he was going to have to handle the rapid beating of his heart inside of his chest, and he wasn’t quite sure how to do that just yet. “Truth or dare?”

The question sobered you up from the intoxicating memory and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“We’re not fourteen and in middle school anymore,” you said. “What are you doing?”

“Come on,” he urged you again, “truth or dare?”

You knew better than to insist he dropped this – there were barely any people more demanding and frustrating than him; you couldn’t even name one – so you didn’t waste your breath trying.

Groaning because you knew he wouldn’t be pleased with your answer – just like you weren’t pleased with him even suggesting this game – you said, “truth.”

Jungkook smiled knowingly because – just like you’d predicted – he was absolutely expecting this and had, therefore, prepared accordingly.

“Who was your first kiss?” he asked without wasting a second.

God, this was going to be a long night, you started to realize. Now you weren’t sure if the ice cream was even worth it – maybe you should have left after dinner.

Meeting his expectant gaze, you tried your hardest to convey all of your hatred for this game through your eyes – but Jungkook wasn’t watching them, he was watching your lips as he waited for your answer – and then you finally said, “you.”

You were almost expecting triumphant fanfares to go off somewhere outside of his house but, instead of that, Jungkook’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, indicating that your answer had surprised him – even though it really shouldn’t have; you may not have been his first kiss, but you had never even wanted to kiss anyone who wasn’t him.

He was obviously going to inquire about this further – but what was there to ask, honestly? – but you were categorically not going to let him.

“Truth or dare?” you fired.

Jungkook closed his mouth, decided – begrudgingly – that this was a fair play, and then, true to himself, replied, “dare.”

“Show me your mysterious nightstand.”

He looked disappointed and more than ready to refuse – good, now he knew how you felt – but got up from the bed nevertheless.

He walked over to his desk first and got a singular key out from under the fake-bottom of the top drawer – courtesy of his Death Note phase – before slowly sliding it into the lock on the nightstand across the room. Turning it until you both heard a pleasant click, Jungkook took the chains off and huffed as he looked at you before doing anything else.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting to see inside so you couldn’t brace yourself for anything but, as Jungkook opened the door of the nightstand, you realized there was no possible way for you to prepare for this anyway.

There were piles of pictures inside – polaroids, of you and him at the lakehouse your families used to rent out every summer – old cut-outs from the school newspaper, showing you, as the president of the Student Council, and the principal of the school. There were the old dog tags you two had gotten together at a fair one spring – because he kept accidentally ripping every friendship bracelet you two ever had – and there were the remote-controlled cars that you’d gotten him for his tenth birthday – you’d been saving up for them that whole year.

Scanning the contents of the nightstand – while Jungkook watched you, biting his lip – you noticed that he had a copy of almost every single movie you’d ever shown him – the DVD of The Sixth Sense, of course, resting at the very front – and, more than that, he had post-it notes glued to all of them with notes ranging from as obscure as, “She said it’s good” to direct quotes from you, “She said I would like it because it’s violent enough to keep me at the edge of my seat but it also has meaning. She smiled a lot when she told me about it.”

And then, as if your heart wasn’t already beating fast enough, you saw the popsicle sticks on the very bottom of the nightstand. Most of them were just scattered there, long forgotten, but some were glued together in what was supposed to be the base of the Trojan horse you two had never gotten to build.

You pulled back, feeling like every time you inhaled, a new memory returned to you, each heavier than the one before. When you finally removed your eyes from the mementos of the past and looked at him, your chest was so full, it was weighing you down.

“You—” you started but the words got lost on their way out of your throat. You tried again, “you kept all of this—”

“Of course,” he said, closing the nightstand now that you weren’t looking at it anymore – he didn’t bother with the chain – and then returning to his previous spot on the bed. “I couldn’t bring it all with me when I left the house because I didn’t know where I was going to go. And I couldn’t leave it all hanging around my room because… well, because I didn’t want my parents to turn the room into a home gym and throw everything out.”

“B-but why—”

“Because it’s important to me,” he replied, knowing what you were going to say, “because these are the things that you and I did together. It’s us. You and me. I kept everything that reminded me of you.”

His words soothed the old wounds but it opened up new ones, too, because, in the seven years that you didn’t have any contact with him, you’d done everything you could to erase him from your life completely – throwing anything that reminded you of him out, until your room and your whole house was void of any connection to him – while he did the complete opposite and attempted to preserve as much of your past friendship as it was possible.

“My turn,” Jungkook said, his voice shakier than it’d been before. “Truth or dare?”

You didn’t want to play anymore. You felt like you physically couldn’t play anymore.

“Jungkook—”

“Truth or dare?” he repeated, more persistent this time.

Sighing because this was hopeless, you replied, “truth.”

He shook his head. “You can’t pick truth twice in a row.”

You should have seen it coming and yet you still felt a pang of annoyance that completely broke you out of the blissful state the contents of the nightstand had put you in before.

“Yes, I can,” you protested. “You just watched me do it.”

He didn’t give in. “That’s against the rules.”

“There are no rules in this game.”

“Yes, there are.”

You rolled your eyes. “Who made them?”

“Me,” Jungkook said, crossing his legs to find a more comfortable position. “My house, my rules. You can’t pick truth twice in a row.”

“Fine, you dick,” you replied – he almost smiled at the name – and settled,  “dare, then.”

It was almost funny, really, how easily the words came to Jungkook as he dared you, “kiss me.”

If you’d have turned your head to the old clock on his wall by the desk, you would have noticed how the arrows had stopped – they stopped long before tonight but, in that moment only, they showed the right time. Almost as if Jungkook wasn’t the only one who’d been waiting to say this to you. Everything in his room had been waiting, too.

Jungkook thought you’d do it -- he thought you’d turn your head, look away. Look for an excuse to back out of this. 

That’s why he didn’t kiss you but gave you an opening to do it yourself, using the game as an excuse. And, in the quiet moment that passed, he waited for your eyes to leave his, refusing the opportunity. But they never did.

You didn’t think you could tear your eyes away from his yearning gaze – just like gravity prevented you from floating off into space, the force of his eyes prevented you from pulling away. Instead, they pulled you in. 

And so you kissed him again, seven years later.

It was just a touch first – you barely registered the feeling of his lips against yours – but, before a chance to pull away even presented itself, the touch melted, locking your lips together.

He tasted like the strawberry mint gum he kept in his car.

He tasted like the flavor of the ice cream he’d picked today.

And, although you’d refused to try it when he offered outside of the ice cream shop, you couldn’t deny it when you were kissing him – strawberry and mint went so incredibly well together.

He tasted like the best friend you’d day-dreamed of kissing before you went to sleep at night.

He tasted like everything you’d ever wanted.

And, belatedly, the triumphant fanfares did go off somewhere in the distance – although it could have just been the sound of your hearts, calling out to each other through your chests – but the only sound you could hear clearly was the sound of his mouth moving against yours as he deepened the kiss, standing up on his knees on the bed and gently pushing you forwards until you landed on your back and he was leaning on his elbows on either side of you.

There were many things you knew about Jungkook – your knowledge coming from all of the days you’d spend together as children – but there were also several things that you didn’t know.

For one thing, you didn’t know what his kisses felt like when there was no one watching.

And now you did as his tongue tenderly brushed against yours, growing more impatient by the second, until you had to hold onto his chest with one hand and wrap the other one around his neck to prevent yourself from completely melting under him.

Furthermore, you didn’t know how long he’s waited for this.

And now you did as his warm body pressed against yours, freezing cold and almost screaming in the parts where he couldn’t physically touch you.

Kissing him felt relieving because you’d waited for this, too, and uselessly tried to convince yourself that you didn’t need his arms around you as much as you did.

It felt freeing because now you could finally admit to yourself how much you’d wanted to kiss him and have him catch his breath against your neck before bringing his lips back to yours again.

But it also felt dangerous because you couldn’t stop – you didn’t want to stop – and, not being in control of your surroundings and, most importantly, of yourself, was something that you knew would have dire consequences. You needed to prepare for this beforehand, consider every possible outcome and—

But then Jungkook pushed one of his thighs between your legs, kissing you harder—deeper—and you no longer cared about being in control of the situation. 

Sighing into the kiss – until he nearly passed out because he’d imagined this before and, for half a moment, he was afraid this was all happening in his head again – you abandoned all of your inhibitions and held onto him tighter, kissing him back with matching intensity.

And that moment – the one moment when you gave in to him completely – was precisely when someone knocked on his door.

However, even though you had both heard it, neither of you reacted to it, your mouths not pausing for a moment and his fingers never leaving the spot under your shirt – right above your waist – where they’d come to rest.

A moment later, you thought you’d only imagined the knock – the sound was already so far away in the distance, it didn’t even feel like you’d really heard it.

In his case, precisely because this – kissing on his bed in his childhood room – was actually real and not just a figment of his imagination, Jungkook simply assumed that everything else had to be happening in some other world where he wasn’t kissing you. In a world that didn’t exist. In a world that didn’t matter.

And so, naturally, he didn’t pay attention to any foreign sounds, focusing on the feeling of your skin, your lips, your touch, you, instead.

But then the knock came again. Shameless, truly, because it had to be obvious what was happening inside; it was impossible not to hear someone knock on the door of a room that was as empty as Jungkook’s bedroom.

This time, you both paused. But Jungkook – who hadn’t lived with his parents in a long time and, therefore, couldn’t remember their habits – was curious if, perhaps, the knocking would go away if unanswered, and so he went back to kissing you a second later.

Much to his—and yours—irritation, however, it didn’t seem like the knocking was going to stop. If anything, it started to get more intense and your hand – the one that pulled him closer to you by his shirt – ended up having to push him away slightly.

“Jungkook?” his mother’s uncertain voice reached your ears, but when you saw his face when he pulled away from you, you felt like you may as well have imagined that sound, too, because the sight of his puffy lips and wide, blown-out pupils made you lean forward to connect your lips again, if only for just a moment.

Jungkook was convinced you hadn’t yet grasped the effect you had on him; he couldn’t just stop kissing you out of the blue like that. And so he leaned back in, pressing his lips to yours until he felt you kiss him back. And then you broke the spell by turning your face towards the door as you tried to speak.

“It’s your mom,” you said, completely out of breath. “You should open it.”

Growling with frustration, he pushed himself off of you and climbed off the bed, not giving you a second to get up and make your activities less obvious before he was throwing the door open a lot more aggressively than he’d intended.

“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you two were back yet,” his mother said, seemingly unfazed by her son’s obvious frustration. “I just got the pie out of the oven, so the dessert is ready. Your dad and I were waiting downstairs, are you two—”

“We got ice cream,” he reminded his mother in a surprisingly gentle tone – even if his body remained stoic – and then glanced over his shoulder at you. “Unless you’d like to grab a slice?”

“Uh, I—thank you,” you said, standing up from the bed and desperately attempting to fix your hair while still remaining polite, “but I still feel full from the ice cream. A-and your dinner was wonderful, too, of course.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” his mother smiled at you and then gave her son a nod. “If you feel like getting tea with us, we’ll be in the kitchen, okay? Sorry I barged in on you like that, you didn’t tell me when you came back home, so I didn’t—”

“Yeah, sorry,” Jungkook said, still in a hurry. “We ran into dad, though. He knew we were back.”

“He did?” this seemed to surprise her. “Huh. He didn’t tell me.”

Huh, indeed. Maybe his father had his own ways of making sure Jungkook kept the door of his bedroom open.

“Well, no matter,” his mother added. “I’ll leave now. Sorry again!”

She smiled at you once more before she walked back to the staircase. You couldn’t tell if her eyes had been glittering because of the few glasses of wine that she’d had with dinner, or because she was able to tell what had been going on in this room before she came in.

Or maybe she was just happy that you were both home, safe and sound, and hanging out in his room – just like back in the day.

“Well,” Jungkook said after closing the door of his room. He wasn’t trying to conceal his disappointment, “that was my mom and her perfect timing.”

You chuckled. “Ah, she could have come in later. That would have been worse.”

“Yeah?” he liked to hear that you’d been imagining what could have happened later, as he walked back to you. “What do you think we’d have been doing?”

“Anything,” you replied, ignoring the fratboy in him but allowing his arms to comfortably wrap themselves around your waist. You replied to his smile with one of your own but did not dare to close the distance between you, only choosing to carefully rest your hands on his shoulders. “Do you know what time it is?”

Jungkook groaned, knowing that you must have understood his mother’s arrival as a sign that it was time for you to go home. “No, don’t start with the time!”

“What?” you asked, surprised by his agitation. “Why not?”

“Because it’s always the time that interrupts us,” he said, knowing how pointless it was but still cursing the time, the place, and almost the entire universe. “The night always ends before I’m ready for it.”

“Are you ever ready for it?” you asked but, in all actuality, you were asking him something else.

“No,” he said, answering both of your questions. “I’m never ready to leave you. You could stay over, you know.”

He’d once called you the most ambitious person he’d ever known, and yet there was nothing you wanted more than to stay here. Stay for a night. For however many nights it was possible.

But there were too many things to think about, too many outcomes to consider. You’d barely grown used to your relationship as old-friends-who-were-fake-dating before you kissed – mostly unprovoked and largely because you wanted to, not because he’d dared you to – and opened up the door to a whole new world.

“I…” you spoke, swallowing slowly. You knew you were someone who had to learn how to maneuver the magical carpet first, before hopping on it and flying away. That was who you were. “Thank you. But I think it’d be best if I went home tonight.”

Jungkook nodded, knowing and fully expecting you to say this. He wasn’t going to object because you’d already taken a huge step—a leap, really—over your own self when you responded and kissed him, and he didn’t want to pressure you into giving in and making any similar decisions before you were ready, no matter how much he wanted you to make them. No matter how much he wanted you.

But he was still going to give you a hard time about this. Because that was who he was.

“Leaving me wanting more, yeah?” he teased.

“Not leaving you,” you said. “Just leaving.”

He loved the way this sounded like a promise – and he would keep replaying your words in his head until the next time he saw you – but he didn’t show it, taking you by the hand instead.

“Let me take you home then,” he said and then threatened, “you should know before we go, though – I am fully determined to make you feel bad for abandoning me when I needed you the most.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” you replied, making him smile in appreciation before leaning in to press a quick—almost chaste—kiss to your cheek.

He pulled away to open the door of his room and then walked outside, taking small steps and deep sighs, his theatrics always very sharp.

“Off I go,” Jungkook began, “starting my journey of loneliness—”

“Is that from a song?” you asked, interrupting his improvised monologue as you followed after him.

“It’s from my life,” he replied shortly. You tried to suppress your laughter and he continued, more dramatic now that he’d noticed he was entertaining you, “off I go, into the dark cavern of solitude. All by myself, all over again...”

Each one of your involuntary giggles only encouraged him, so Jungkook kept this up all the way to your dorm and then he found a way to keep going over text messages, spamming you with his Shakespearean delusions until you threatened to block his number if he didn’t stop.

And then, after testing you for another half an hour, he finally did stop and went to sleep – alone, but with the memory of you that was so strong, it was like you were there with him.

keep reading | masterlist

[trevor-wilson-covington]

What could have been...

//Saw that the site I use to make mood boards has a CD Cover option and thought it would be fun to do Sunset Curve’s Demo and Unreleased Songs (+Home Is Where My Horse Is) as they would look as singles!!! I may make CD Covers for the other 13 songs in the show...if people end up really liking these ones and if inspiration strikes!

**Gave an idea of what I think the other 7 songs would be about/why they were written (said what we know Unsaid Emily, Now or Never, and Home Is Where My Horse Is are about already of course too)!!

1. Unsaid Emily: Is of course about Luke’s rough relationship with his mom, which was never resolved before his death. It touches on how he knew he should have turned around and come back home but his pride stopped him. All the conversations he had created in his head about what they would say to each other when he finally saw her again stayed that way, thoughts in his head. Wondering if he had been able to say the right things to his mom or made up with her before dying, would time not have erased the memory of him?  

2. Get Lost: I believe it is about the feeling of restlessness and wanting to just take off on an adventure somewhere new or unique. Similar to how Luke finds sleeves (zleeves) restricting, this song is about how life can feel suffocating sometimes and all you want to do is grab a bag of essentials and walk in the mist/ride off into the night to a freer life. 

3. Long Weekend: Is about the band’s friendship/brotherhood/sense of found family and how over many weekends they find themselves going through a lot of struggles and heartache together. These are the weekends that feel the longest because there is so much the four boys help each other through and many times they find they don’t want the weekend to end so they can spend more non-band time together to just be four stupid teen boys navigating all the twists and turns of life. 

4. Crooked Teeth: My thoughts are that it could have been written when he had braces/a retainer in the 90s & was self-conscious of it, so it was written to cheer Reggie up about his braces/retainer & pretty much say "hey, Reggie...people's smiles vary & they're all unique & beautiful"...instead of mocking him, like the show seems to tell us it was written to do.

5. My Name Is Luke: Is a darker, more introspective song about Luke’s struggle with an identity crisis where he feels he’s being pulled in different directions. One side is the Luke who loves his parents and wants to make them happy and have them be proud of him. The other side is the Luke. who is passionate about writing and playing music, who thrives off the feelings and energies of the crowd as they connect with him and his lyrics. Luke finds he can’t be one version of Luke without ultimately giving up the other and trying to do both is exhausting and soul crushing at times. The title is his way of saying ‘Hey, this is my name, it’s who I am, and I can be a loving son my parents can be proud of while also doing what I love and making a difference in the lives of people who listen to my music’. He just wishes his parents could come to understand that he loves music and he’s really good at it, so why can’t he continue doing it and make them proud at the same time.  

6. Now or Never: Is, as we know, about Sunset Curve’s rise to fame and how they can dream as though they’ll never die but they’re going to live their life as though today could be their last day alive. They aren’t looking to the future, because all they need are each other and the energy that is coursing through their bodies in the present. They hear a voice in their heads saying you only have this one life, so make the most of it so when you die you’ll have had no regrets about the things you did or didn’t do. This is their time to shine and even when their lives were bleak or lacking, their days were still the best of their lives because they were making music and gradually making a name for themselves doing so. 

Weaved in are of course lyrics that seem to foreshadow their 3 deaths with the mention of shock to their hearts (the defibrillators used to try to keep them alive in the alley or ambulance), clocks moving forward but they don’t get older (how for 25 yrs they were in limbo and didn’t age and are now 17-year-old ghosts in 2020), how they kept on climbing 'til their stars collided (floated up out of the ambulance to the dark place until crashing into Julie’s life (she’s a star as Luke says)), and how all that they left in the past was just the just the key to paradise (all the things they left behind once they died were just ‘stepping stones’ to the ‘paradise’ of heaven for most people or in the boy’s case the path to Julie and playing music again).

7. Late Last Night: Is about the late nights the four boys spent out at clubs/venues leading up to the Orpheum, gigs that helped them gain a decent following, and all the crazy things they saw and did. 17-year-olds out late partying, possibly drinking, on school nights. A higher energy song, similar to Now or Never to match the antics of a bunch of teens practically let loose on the music/club scene during the band’s rise in the Hollywood/LA music scene in ‘93/’94/’95. It evokes the feelings of being wild and reckless as a teen, while also somehow capturing the energy of the nighttime as you move from the crowded main strip into residential areas and how quick and jarring the change can be.     

8. Lakeside Reflection: This is a tough one, but I think it would be about the individual experiences most or all of the boys have from going to lakes during summer with their families. There’s of course all the fun time spent with family, but in the reflection on the lake of those moments the boys only see the truth of their family dynamics, what was hidden behind a pleasant façade. 

For Luke, it was the strained relationship and fights with his mom over the band and his dreams. 

For Alex, it was the looks and offhanded comments made by his parents and the looks of sympathy from his sister, ever since he told them he was gay. 

For Reggie, it was the nights spent keeping his brother and sister distracted as the walls practically shook from the volume and intensity of his parents’ almost daily fights. 

And for Bobby, it was the truth that he kept up a façade even with the boys so they wouldn’t know that his family, that the others always believed to be perfect, wasn’t perfect at all. When rarely he saw his parents and they weren’t off on business trips or working late into the night, Bobby found them to be disinterested in his life and any affection or love was relegated to a pat on the back or a quick hand held before they rushed out the door once more. 

The happy summer vibes at the lake could never truly make any of the boys forget their truths, but at least they could let loose for the extent of their trips and finally feel like a carefree teen again.               

9. In Your Starlight: This would seem to be a certain kind of love song at first glance and for some people that’s what it may be, but to me it is a very specific kind of love song. This love song is about relationships each of the boys had, the very few of them, that didn’t turn out well for some reason or another. A passion for music overshadowing the passion to keep a relationship going. The fear of long-term commitment and a short-lived bliss, before the fighting starts, ending the relationship before it ever grew deeper. The smothering of a fire in the soul so outsiders can’t see one trace of its flicker, hidden behind a lie, in case they find out the truth and react with disgust or hatred. Or the overly flirtatious and, at times, clingy antics used to get a person interested in starting a relationship. To keep them invested in the relationship, in an effort to make sure they won’t leave out of boredom or for someone better. This song is from the perspective of those other people, how they saw the relationship, no matter the length, and what they see as the thing that ended it or kept it from growing stronger. How they all in some way felt like they were pulled in by light of each of the boys (the stars) and things were good at first, before the cracks started to appear and reality truly set in.    

10. Home Is Where My Horse Is: It’s an expression of where and whom Reggie calls home. The horse had never really stood for an actual horse, but rather it represented Luke, Alex, and Bobby. The people Reggie considered his family, his home, more than he ever would the house he had grown up in. Horses symbolize freedom without restraint, because riding a horse makes people feel they can free themselves from their own bindings. There is no constraining a horse when it runs with the wind, but they also enjoy the company of family and friends. Reggie wants freedom from the stuff with his parents and his own personal demons that keep him held back. He finds with the band, his real family, he can run free and be himself...enjoying being around the boys and not having to worry about fighting and drama. His home is where he (the horse) is... able to be its true self and go where the wind takes it.     

[mondscheinprinzessin]

drunken tattoos

This post discussing Olli’s not visible BC tattoo didn’t leave my mind and I just had to write something stupid. So here are Joonas and Olli making a pact to get the BC logo tattooed on their asses.

I am dedicating this dumbassery to @drippinlou and @dream-thieves

(also pls don’t get a tattoo while drunk)

Playing in front of more than a hundred people was more exhilarating than Olli could've ever expected. The way they swayed and jumped to their music, sang along to the words and made them feel like the biggest band walking on earth.

It had to be celebrated. Selling that many tickets was a new high in their band life and it was steady but surely going uphill for them. Soon it was no more playing in shady bars and dirty clubs, they could get a bigger stage and invest in equipment.

Olli wanted to ride on that high forever, the beers he had downed helping him to keep him afloat on a cloud of adrenaline, excitement, and blissful joy. The wide smile on his face had been there for the last hour or so, but Olli couldn’t stop. Seeing his bandmates in each other’s arms and screaming to a Britney Spears Remix currently playing in the club would remain as a picture forever saved in his memories.

Joonas hooked arms with him and pressed a cocktail in his hands with the command to drink it up. And who was Olli to refuse such a charming smile on his fellow guitarist.

Not long after -or was it, Olli couldn’t tell- the both of them found themselves in the alley outside the club, still swaying to the music that could be heard through the open doors. They passed a few smokers that gave them disapproving stares but Olli couldn’t care less. He was having the time of his life.

Passing a corner Joonas suddenly stopped in his tracks, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What?” Olli asked, confused. “Don’t tell me you have to puke, go somewhere else for that.” Already on the move to march forward, Olli was once again held back by Joonas by a tug on his hand.

“No, I have an amazing idea.” He told him with shining eyes, the mischief was clear as day, but that was normal with Joonas and didn’t worry him.

When nothing else came Olli motioned with his hand to continue, looking at him expectantly. Now he wanted to know. The night was too early to kill off and he was in the mood for an adventure, which was guaranteed to happen with a drunken Joonas in company.

“Oh right.” Joonas said as if he had forgotten he was in the middle of explaining. “Tattoos!”

“Tattoos?”

“Yes, tattoos! We always wanted our band logo tattooed, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember.” Olli defended himself. “I’m not that drunk.” He said and promptly stumbled over his own foot, holding himself up by the wall next to him.

A giggling came from behind, but Olli found it funny enough to join in, already forgetting what reason Joonas had to laugh.

“Let’s do it now.”

Lifting his head, getting dizzy from the abrupt movement, he looked at Joonas, thinking hard about what they were talking about. “Huh?”

“The tattoo.” Joonas said urgently like it was the most important thing on earth right now. And...it kind of was in Olli’s opinion. Tattoos sounded great. He wanted one.

“Now?” he asked to be sure he understood the plan.

“Of course now. Now is the best time.”

Olli agreed and nodded with his head more forcefully than it was necessary, the world once again hiding behind a blurriness that he was unable to blink away.

“But we can do one better. Let’s make a pact!”

“A pact?” Olli felt like he was only asking questions this evening, his brain slowed down and unable to process any information Joonas threw his way.

Hitting him square over the chest Joonas grinned at him. “Dude, how drunk are you, keep up. A pact between brothers.”

Olli hummed and grabbed Joonas by the shoulders to pull him into a hug, simultaneously tousling his hair. They almost fell over from the force but Joonas was able to keep them upright.

“You’re the bestest brother.” Olli said and squeezed tighter, Joonas only chuckling into his shoulder, the sound loud in his ear but enough to raise his spirits even higher. The fun that came out of forming a band with his friends and touring together was the greatest thing in his life, enjoying the close bond they had and right now he had the most awesome fun ever.

Joonas weaseled his way out of his grip and jumped on his back instead, giving Olli only seconds to take a hold of his legs but they managed, going forward on wobbly knees and in a zigzag course, only swerving around a lamppost last second and when Joonas pulled his hair in the direction they were headed to.

Picking up from where they left off, Joonas said, “So, from brother to brother I say let’s put it on our ass.”

Coming to a halt, Olli tried to understand the strings of words and especially the combination of tattoo and ass in one sentence.

“Hey, I didn’t say you could stop.” Joonas let out and wiggled with his legs till Olli got the memo and started walking again. More or less.

“Why on our ass?”

“Uh...because that’s funny? And like the greatest idea ever. And funny.” He said as if it was obvious. Which- yeah okay Olli could see behind it. It was pretty funny. Hilarious even. Why didn’t they think of it before? Might be the greatest idea Joonas ever had. Or the one they could remember.

“It is.”

“Then onward my fair steed” Joonas said and began giggling again when Olli picked up speed and Joonas was swaying on his back like a ship on the high sea. It was a miracle they didn’t crash and kept lying in a ditch, waiting to be found by their bandmates in the morning.

Somehow, they managed to find their destination, or more like a random tattoo parlour that was mysteriously open at this hour. But why should they care as long as they would finally get their tattoos.

They wandered inside (Joonas by his side instead of his back), greeting the woman behind the counter who had a boring expression on her face. She raised an eyebrow, eying them from top to bottom but didn’t comment on their state.

When asked what she can do for them they simply said ass tattoo. That should cover all information needed.

The woman called for a Sarah and a blonde woman emerged from a room, waving Joonas over who had a flirty smile already on his face. Always ready to play with his charms. Who knows what could come out of this.

Olli eyed the woman, whose name he still didn’t know, but followed her willingly into another room, losing sight of Joonas. They would see each other soon enough. With a little extra on their bodies.

He laid down as instructed, his pants off over a chair and his underwear pulled down to bare his butt for everyone to see. Without the alcohol he may have been blushing more over the fact he was showing himself off so freely, but he couldn’t see what the woman was doing anyway.

He had given her the flyer of tonight's concert so she had a template for the tattoo, and it wasn’t like it was a big one, he would cope.

The first lines of the needle hurt nevertheless and reached his mind even in his drunken state, the alcohol only doing so much to fight back on the pain. After a while though the buzzing only made him tired, having to suppress the urge to close his eyes and just fall asleep.

He contemplated over doing just that when the woman swatted over his cheek not currently sporting a tattoo and that helped him getting awake again. He practically jumped up, refraining from pulling up his underwear as she needed to get over the aftercare stuff but then he was free to go.

He stumbled over the threshold into the colder night air, the alcohol level noticeably lower but not enough to keep his head from spinning. He could hardly make out Joonas leaned against the lamppost across from him, but that stupid hat was indicator enough it was his friend standing there and not some stranger with striking similarity.

Joonas put out his cigarette when Olli came closer. “Well, how was it?”

“Not liking getting my ass spanked but other than that I’m fine.”

Joonas let out a loud laugh from deep in his chest, probably waking every sleeping person in the street. “Sounds like you had a good time. Show me?”

“Are you stupid? Not here. I don’t want to get arrested for public nuisance.” Olli said and shoved Joonas away when he made grabby hands towards his belt. He was definitely not getting naked here.

“Tease.” Joonas whined disappointed. “Oh! But let me show you mine.”

“Joonas, no. I don’t wanna see your ass now either. Besides, we got the same motive?”

But Joonas didn’t make a move to open his pants, no, he only shoved his hand into his face, making him crosseyed.

Grabbing the hand waving before his eyes, he tried to focus. “Joonas, what? Hey! What is this?”

There was clearly a diamond shaped thing on the back of his hand, that suspiciously looked like their band logo, and then it dawned on him.

“There is one on your ass too, right? You didn’t make me do that alone? Right? Joonas?”

His questions fell on deaf ears though and there was only maniac laughter coming from Joonas, who upon seeing Olli’s eyes darken, got a good headstart and ran away before Olli could grab the hem of his jacket. Cursing, Olli could do nothing than follow Joonas and made sure they didn’t lose their way to the hotel and then he could wrestle him down long enough to tattoo that stupid thing on him on his own.