#title inspired from the lyrics of let's be friends

[ryngzmn]

What Was I Thinkin’

PAIRING: Dean Winchester x reader

SUMMARY: you find yourself sneaking out of bobby’s house to be with your boyfriend, dean.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k (I’m writing longer fics yay!)

WARNINGS: established relationship, early seasons dean bc I feel like he’d be more likely to do this, me trying to combine lyrics of a song into a fic (yes, that deserves a warning.)

A/N: uhh obviously this was inspired by What Was I Thinkin’ by Dierks Bentley (PLS LISTEN TO THAT AND 5-1-5-0, THEY’RE BOTH SO GOOD🙏🙏 /nf) also I know dean probably wouldn’t listen to country music but let’s js pretend for the sake of the fic!

You were lying in bed, staring at the cracking paint on the ceiling as you waited for a certain someone to throw a small pebble at your window.

When you heard the thump against your window, you immediately sprung up and looked out.

It was your boyfriend, Dean.

Well… secret boyfriend, technically. Your father, Bobby, didn’t know about you guys yet!

You always remember all the times Bobby had chewed you a new one, blabbering about how much of a bad influence Dean would be.

You didn’t think so, you saw the good in Dean, how sweet he could be despite his rough edges.

Once Dean saw your head peek through the window, a wide grin appeared on his face.

He threw you a wink before beckoning you to come to him. You nodded and quickly shut your window.

You snuck out of your bedroom, narrowly avoiding the floorboards that you knew for sure would creak and possibly wake up your father.

Sneaking out with Dean or friends in general had its perks.

That perk being knowing which floorboards to avoid and which ones to not avoid.

It took you a few extra minutes to get out the front door this time around because last time Bobby had already been awake for some odd reason and asked what you were doing up.

You quickly made an excuse, saying you were getting some water before hastily filling up a glass and retreating back to your room.

It was safe to say that you made it out of the house without any interference from Bobby.

That was until you heard him faintly cursing from inside the house, and you just knew that he saw or heard you sneak out.

You rushed over to Dean’s Impala — or *Baby* as he always called it — and swung the door open, almost ripping it off before climbing inside.

“Drive. Now!” You told Dean in a slightly panicked tone.

Dean raised an eyebrow and looked over, seeing Bobby running out of the house and waving a 12-gauge.

He put Baby in drive and tore out of the junkyard and he could hear Bobby fire a few shots.

He’d have to check his tailgate later.

After speeding down the road for a bit, Dean reached over and pulled out a mixtape for you to take.

me ‘n them was the title that was messily scrawled onto it.

“What’s this?��� Came your questioning voice, yet you put the mixtape into the dashboard anyway.

“It’s a mixtape I made. It’s ‘bout us.” Dean explained proudly, hitting a button on the dashboard before you heard a country song start playing.

You looked over at him, slack-jawed and eyes wide. In all the time that you know him, he never listened to country music.

“What Was I Thinkin’ by Dierks Bentley, seriously?” You raised an eyebrow, wondering if Dean was in the right headspace.

“Just listen to it!” Dean assured, casting a glance in your direction. “I promise it’ll remind you about us.”

You sighed and leaned back in the passenger seat of the Impala, listening to the lyrics of the song that was playing.

She snuck out one night and met me by the front gate

Her daddy came out wavin' that 12-gauge

We tore out the drive, he peppered my tailgate

What was I thinkin'?

You scoffed at listening to the lyrics, it sounded just like what had happened moments earlier.

You reached out to turn it off, or skip the song, but Dean smacked your hand away.

“Uh-uh, you’re listening to this song whether you like it or not.” Dean chided, waving a finger in your direction. You huffed.

Oh, I knew there'd be hell to pay

But that crossed my mind a little too late

You had later noticed Dean taking a dirt path that was off the highway, but you didn’t question it. You had a vague idea on what he was planning to do.

So instead, you busied yourself with listening to the lyrics of the Dierks Bentley song that was starting to become catchy.

'Cause I was thinkin' 'bout a little white tank top

Sittin' right there in the middle by me

I was thinkin' 'bout a long kiss

Man, just gotta get goin' where the night might lead

I know what I was feelin'

But what was I thinkin'?

What was I thinkin'?

You felt the Impala jolt slightly as Dean put it in park, opening the car door and climbing out.

You climbed out as well, watching as Dean sat on the hood of Baby and glanced back at you before patting the spot next to him.

You wordlessly complied, the front of the Impala shifting and creaming under your guys’ combined weight.

Dean leaned in close, pressing a chaste kiss to the skin where your neck and shoulder met.

You chuckled, nudging Dean away before looking at him.

“Did you really take me out here just to see the stars?” Dean placed a hand on his chest, feigning offense at the prospect that you didn’t like his surprise.

“You don’t like my gift?” Dean asked, his tone full of playful accusation. “I’ll have you know that I planned this out perfectly.”

You laughed, turning back to the night sky.

“Whatever,”

Dean laughed as well, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side.

—————————————————————————

It wasn’t until half past two that Dean had gotten you home, and he couldn’t deny the spike of slight nervousness he felt when he saw Bobby sitting on the porch.

That stupid 12-gauge was still with him, too. It was leaning against the porch steps, almost taunting him.

To be honest, Dean wouldn’t be surprised if Bobby decided to shoot him in the chest right there and then.

But he didn’t.

Instead he slowly got up and walked over, arms crossed as he examined the two of you.

Bobby’s eyes landed on Dean, his gaze scrutinizing.

“You idjit, thinkin’ you could just make my child sneak out the house to hang out with ya?” He grunted before moving his gaze to you.

“And you.” You shifted awkwardly, swallowing down your nerves.

You were a hundred percent ready for your father to demand that you stop seeing Dean, even if it’d break your heart.

“I can tell you really like this idjit,” Bobby admitted with a sigh, his arms dropping to the side. “So I’ll let this whole thing slide.”

You felt relief hit you like a freight train, your eyes lighting up with a hint of hope.

“Really?”

Bobby nodded, “Yup. Just make sure to tell me if you’re gonna sneak out later in the night so I don’t almost have a heart attack worryin’ about you.”

You laughed quietly, looking over at Dean.

“Okay, dad.”

Bobby gave a small smile before he walked back inside.

You turned to Dean, smiling at him. “Well, I’ll see ya next time you arrange a date for us.

Dean smirked, “you bet.”

You stepped closer before leaning up and kissing his cheek.

Dean’s smirk fell into a giddy smile before he pulled you in for a proper kiss on the lips.

Soon after, he watched you run back inside as you waved wildly at him in goodbye before the front door closed behind you.

—————————————————————————

tags<3 : @ryvkkr

[thegothicviking]

I did it! After almost 7 whole years!

(And now I want to vomit!)

The very first part of my Rammstein fic series is finally uploaded at Ao3!

(After almost 7 whole years of questioning and doubting myself as the annoying perfectionist that I am! I've now finally decided to publish this thing. Bit by bit, into the new year 2025!)

But please be gentle with me as I know the summary text and the "notes" might be a little "too long" for everyone to bother to read! (I was unmedicated when I wrote it and these long notes and summaries won't be added to every single chapter. I swear!)

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Chapter Three: No Mirror for Monsters

dbf!Joel x f!reader

Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Story is inspired by the song Fall Into Me by Forest Blakk. Chapter titles will be lyrics from the song.

Word Count: 4.3k

Chapter Warnings: Mature, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. Lots of feelings, confusion, and self doubt. Joel goes on a date but not with you. Two idiots falling and pining for each other. Lotta swearing, because, yeah, I like it. Reader has long enough hair for a ponytail and likes comfy clothes. Age gap of about 9 years (Reader 24/25, Joel 33/34). No use of y/n. Reader has a nickname used by her dad.

Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Thank you for reading this little tale! I did not expect all the love - my heart is fit to burst over all the wonderful comments and reblogs!

Chapter Two | Main Masterlist

“Good morning, Millers!” you greeted as you let yourself into their house the following morning. Nearing late October, it was a beautiful day outside and the crisp morning air made you happy. It would heat up later, but for now you were enjoying the comfort of a beloved hoodie and yoga pants.

“Hi darlin’,” Joel replied with a lot less enthusiasm as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe. Still nursing his first cup of coffee, his sparkling personality hadn’t kicked in yet. “Sarah’s just gettin’ dressed. Want some coffee?”

“Nah, don’t drink the stuff. Smells good, but the taste is just…” You scrunched up your nose, at a loss for the right word to describe how utterly disgusting you found the taste of coffee. You moved through the house to join him in the kitchen.

Turning back to the counter with a chuckle, Joel poured himself another cup and shrugged. “There’s no accounting for taste, I guess. More for me, then.”

“There’s the silver lining!” you teased. “So, you guys have any big plans this weekend?”

“Nah, should be qui—Oh shit, I almost forgot!” Joel closed his eyes, bumping a fist against his forehead. His gaze was shuttered when it met yours again. “Would you mind watching Sarah on Saturday evening?”

“Yeah, sure. I don’t have any plans, so I’m happy to hang with the nugget. You got a hot date or something?” You meant it as a joke, but the way Joel winced clued you in. Your face fell at his next words, and you hoped he didn’t notice.

“Uh, yeah. Tommy set it up.” Joel drained the rest of his cup, tossing it into the sink, and ran an anxious hand through his curls. “First one in a while, ya know.”

No, you didn’t know. But it wasn’t really your business, was it? Sarah’s arrival in the kitchen saved you from having to say anything else as the little girl launched herself at you.

“Hey nugget,” you said, wrapping your arms around her little body as she clung to your waist. Despite your best efforts, your greeting lacked your prior enthusiasm. You could feel the heavy weight of Joel’s gaze on you like a laser, but you refused to look in his direction. “You ready to go?”

“Uh huh, I already ate breakfast,” Sarah said proudly, spinning to hug her father. “Bye Dad, love you.”

You turned away, already heading for the door as Joel pulled her in for a bear hug, feeling your heart constrict at how much they loved each other. You didn’t bother to say goodbye.

Joel had a date.

A date who wasn’t you.

Man, that fucking sucked.

Could you blame the guy, though? He was still young and handsome, hardworking and responsible to a fault. And, most of all, he didn’t know that you harbored growing feelings for him. Nor could he ever find out, you reminded yourself, not when your dad was his best friend.

The ride to drop Sarah off was full of silence, your mind weighed down with thoughts of Joel and the valiant effort of trying to convince yourself to stop thinking about him. Coming out of the fog as you moved up in the school drop-off line, you wished Sarah a good day and watched as she bounced up the steps into the building. You envied that sweet obliviousness of youth.

Driving away from the school, anxiety started to kick in. The thought of going back to your house to sit alone as the four walls closed in on you made your stomach churn. You drove around for an hour, no real destination in mind, and ended up at Peace District Park. With nothing much else to do, you walked the trails of the urban oasis and let nature work its magic in calming your nerves.

It worked.

As you sat on a bench watching songbirds flutter around the flora, you texted one of your best friends from high school who still lived in the area. You needed a girl’s night out.

Distractions were dangerous in his line of work, but Joel struggled to get his mind to focus all morning. He fixated on the way your face fell and your entire demeanor changed when he mentioned the date, like you were disappointed, hurt even. But that couldn’t be, could it?

There was no way you felt something for him. Was there?

Joel went over and over every interaction between you two since the day you met, trying to see if he was reading into things too much. He wasn’t the most observant guy, he knew that well enough, but there were moments when he’d catch you gazing at him with this look of wonder in your eyes… that had to mean something. Right?

Fuck. He was really bad at this stuff. So out of practice and lacking confidence.

Maybe he just imagined it all. Maybe you had something else on your mind and didn’t give a shit about someone like him going on a date.

What could he do about it if you liked him anyway? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. So, what did it matter. You were JB’s daughter and Sarah’s babysitter, nothing more and nothing less.

Joel’s mind continued to cycle through the same thoughts all day, until he smashed his thumb with a hammer because he was so distracted. Pissed off and in pain, he called it a day a couple hours early, leaving Tommy in charge of the site. He needed to get home and put some ice on his thumb.

By some cosmic coincidence, he arrived home at the same time as you and Sarah. He couldn’t hide his thumb from your eagle eyes as the three of you entered the house.

“Jesus Christ, Joel!” you hissed, trying not to swear in front of Sarah, your delicate hand already reaching for his larger, dirtier one. “What happened to your thumb?”

“It got in the way of a hammer,” Joel mumbled, doing his best not to wince as you gently prodded at the swollen digit. He also did his best to ignore the softness of your skin and the warmth of your touch on him, wishing you would touch him everywhere. “You don’t have to fuss, darlin’. It just needs some ice.”

“Oh, hush up, you. Go wash your hands then sit down and relax, I’ll get you some ice and aspirin to help with the swelling. You’re lucky it’s not broken!”

“Bossy lil’ thing, aren’t you,” he grumbled, doing exactly as you ordered once his boots were kicked off to the side of the foyer. Sarah nestled against him on the couch once he sat, fussing over his thumb just as much as you did. His lips quirked upwards at the thought that it meant you both cared about him.

You returned minutes later with a bag of frozen peas, two white pills, and a bottle of cold beer in hand. “Take these,” you directed, offering him the pills and beer. Once he swallowed, you placed the bag on his hand, carefully adjusting it to wrap around his thumb. Your teeth bit into your bottom lip as you concentrated on not hurting him and he nearly groaned as an ache built up in his belly at the sight.

“Thank you, darlin’,” Joel said, voice deep and husky before clearing his throat. His eyes clocked your movements as you stood up straight and your eyes widened when they met his half-lidded gaze. He catalogued the moment to add to the growing list of moments between the two of you that hinted at something deeper, something more lingering in the air.

You waved off his thanks and headed back to the kitchen, calling over your shoulder, “I’ll make some dinner for your two before I leave.”

He wanted to follow you, to let you know he wanted you to stay for dinner, and maybe watch a movie with him and Sarah afterwards, but Sarah’s sweet little voice distracted him.

“Will you help me with my homework, Daddy?” She peered up at him with eyes that matched his own and his heart swelled with love.

“Of course, my little nugget. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

They worked on math problems until you called them for dinner, Joel relieved at the break. An exceptionally bright girl, Sarah didn’t really need his help, but she enjoyed it when he tried. Math made his head hurt, a headache starting to build between his eyes. The headache grew at the sight of only two plates full of spaghetti on the table.

“You’re not eating?” Sarah’s voice squeaked, making her dissatisfaction clear. Turning to him as you shook your head, she added, “Daddy! Tell her she can stay!”

Joel’s mouth barely opened before snapping shut again. You were already speaking, cutting off whatever he would have said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, nugget. I gotta go now.”

“Oh, okay.” Sarah’s disappointment broke his heart, and Joel felt helpless.

“You sure you can’t stay? I thought maybe we could watch a Disney movie after.” He looked at you with unmasked hope in his eyes. He wanted you to stay even more than his daughter did, but he couldn’t tell you that.

Something flashed in your eyes but disappeared before Joel could figure out what it was. “Sorry, I have plans with a friend and I can’t stay. You two enjoy the movie without me,” you said with a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I’ll come by at 4:30 tomorrow, okay?”

Joel nodded, cringing at the reminder of his date, and watched you leave with a pang of disappointment rivalling Sarah’s.

Emily never changed. She was still the prettiest girl in the room and funny as hell, lifting your mood just like she did back in high school. The pair of you sat at a swanky bar downtown, catching up like you never missed any time together. You stayed in touch a bit over the years, but the distance and different priorities led to your friendship taking a back seat to everything else. Now that you were back, it was easy to dive right back into that unbreakable bond the two of you always shared and pick up where you left off.

You didn’t realize how much you missed that bond until now.

The bar filled with the typical Friday night after work crowd as the two of you sipped at your drinks and rehashed the past few years. Soon, the conversation moved to your current love life – or, more accurately, your complete lack of one.

“So, you seeing anyone lately?” Emily asked, signaling to the bartender that you were ready for another round. “Last I heard, you were with that dude… what was his name? The one that would gaslight you and always insisted your tears were weaponized when he made you cry.”

“Yeah, Tom. That asshole. I wasted too much time on him not knowing any better, but we broke up about a year and a half ago, thank God.” You cringed at the thought of all the emotional damage you had to overcome after that one. You worked hard on finding yourself again after that disaster. “No, I’m not seeing anyone.”

Ever the receptive one, Emily picked up something in your tone that you couldn’t hide. Tilting her head curiously, clocking your movements with her sharp eyes, she continued, “But there’s someone who caught your eye? Do tell!”

Without hesitation, you launched into a long-winded explanation of how you met Joel and how you’re now a mess over the guy.

“Dad’s best friend, huh? When did you become such a cliché?” Emily teased, her shoulder gently bumping yours. “He sounds dreamy, though!”

“I am not a cliché! We don’t all get to all get to marry our high school sweetheart because we met ‘the one’ when we were 15. Talk about a cliché!” You cackled, drawing the attention of two men in suits a few seats down from you, but you ignored them.

“Alright, alright,” Emily mock surrendered. “Back to dad’s best friend. What is the problem? The JB I remember is a cool guy who wouldn’t have a problem with you dating his friend, not when said friend is only a bit older than you and such a good guy.”

That caught you by surprise. “You really think my dad would be okay with it?”

Emily shrugged. “I mean, I haven’t talked to your dad in years, but I remember him being a pretty reasonable guy and he always wanted the best for you. Why wouldn’t he want you to be with someone responsible and caring like this Joel guy?”

You nodded thoughtfully, your teeth worrying your plump bottom lip. “Even if my dad was cool with it, there’s the fact that Joel is not interested. He’s going on a date tomorrow, for fuck’s sake.”

After a moment of consideration, Emily asked, “Does he do that often? Date, I mean.”

You shook your head, fingers dancing absentmindedly along the edge of the bar. “Apparently not. He said it’s the first one in a long time.”

Emily’s eyes narrowed. “And you don’t find the timing suspicious?”

That caught you off guard, your eyes darting to hers. “Should I?”

Shoulders shrugging beneath long layers of dark hair, Emily hummed. “Maybe? From what you just told me about your interactions, I find it interesting that he’s suddenly going on a date. Makes me think he has feelings and he’s struggling with them just like you are.”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that.” You blew off her observations, you couldn’t afford to start having hope now when he was going on a date tomorrow. Instead, you changed the subject. “So, how are you and Ed doing?”

The rest of the night passed in a blur of conversation and mixed drinks with the occasional interruption from a few brave men hitting on you. It crossed your mind to flirt with one or two of them, but you were having too much fun catching up with Emily and blew each of them off. Before you knew it, the hour was late and Emily’s husband, Ed, picked you both up to make sure you got home safe.

“What the hell am I doing?” Joel asked his reflection as he tried on his fourth shirt from his closet. He wasn’t looking forward to this date at all, his mind a mess between feeling guilty about leaving Sarah, the confusing mix of emotions revolving around you, and his complete lack of confidence.

Torn between trying too hard and not trying at all, he huffed in frustration, ripping the buttons of the shirt open before tossing it onto the growing pile of discarded clothes on his bed.

He had no business going on a date. What had he been thinking when he agreed to go?

Joel slumped onto his bed in defeat, his right fist coming up to bump against his forehead. How could he ever think that going on a date would get his mind off you? Not to mention, he felt like a dick for asking you to watch Sarah while he went on said date.

God, he really wasn’t good with this kind of shit.

A glance at the clock got him moving. You were due to arrive shortly, and he had to pick Annica up for a 5:30 reservation Tommy insisted he make. There was no room to dilly dally.

Another glance through his closet and Joel settled on a blue flannel and dark jeans, paired with newer black boots. Best to just be himself, he thought. Using a bit of gel, he pushed his curls back from his face. His beard was freshly trimmed, and he ran his truck through the car wash earlier in the day.

“That’s as good as it’s gonna get,” he said to his reflection before leaving his bedroom, the doorbell ringing as he reached the bottom of the stairs. Joel opened the door to find you standing there, your feet shifting uncertainly. You looked tired, yet beautiful as always and he gulped. “Hey, why didn’t you just come in? You have a key.”

“Hey Joel,” you greeted with a shrug, your voice quiet. Your eyes scanned from his head down to his feet like you were drinking him in. “Just didn’t feel right, I guess.”

“Ok?” Confused, he waited for you to explain, but you kept your mouth shut. Something was off with you. He wondered if something happened last night – you said you had plans, had it been a date of your own? His heart skipped a beat as he shook his head clear. “Well, come on in. You doin’ alright, darlin’?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed back causing Joel’s brows to pull into a frown as you followed him into the house. “You look nice. Ready for your date?”

Was it just him or did it seem like asking that question pained you? What the fuck was wrong with him? Shaking his head free of thoughts like that, he blushed. “Oh, uh, thanks. As ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” After a beat, he added, “I’m kinda nervous, actually.”

Joel watched your eyes soften at that. “You shouldn’t be. Any woman would be lucky to go on a date with you.”

Including you? he wondered. There was a wistfulness to your voice that shattered him, leaving him ready to ditch his date and stay there with you and Sarah. “Hey, I, um—”

“You’re here! Finally! Come on, I want to show you something!” Sarah sprinted into the living room, grabbing your hand, and stealing your attention before Joel could finish his sentence. Maybe that was a good thing. God only knows what was about to come out of his mouth.

“Slow down, nugget! I’m coming,” you laughed as the young girl dragged you toward the stairs. It was the first smile of yours Joel glimpsed since you arrived, and his heart beat heavy in his chest when you turned to speak to him over your shoulder, your broad smile dimming with your next words. “Have fun tonight, Joel. You deserve a nice night out.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” he replied, the words heavy in his mouth. Clearing his throat, he called out, “Be good, Sarah! I ordered pizza for you both, should be here soon.”

“I always am, Dad! Love you!” Sarah yelled down the stairs, her attention already focused on whatever she wanted to show you.

“Love you, too.” Joel continued staring up the stairs long after the two of you were out of sight, a sense of yearning knotted deep in his chest. Forcing himself to look away, he grabbed his keys and headed for the door, once again asking himself why the hell he agreed to this date in the first place.

“Can we go see it tonight? Please?” Sarah gazed up at you with her dark eyes widened like a baby cow and you were powerless. How did Joel ever tell this precious, sweet girl ‘no’? It was impossible.

“Let’s see what the showtimes are first. We can’t be out too late.” Scanning the movie listing Sarah pulled up on her tablet, you found the showtimes for the latest kid friendly adventure movie she wanted to see. “There’s one at 6:30. We can totally do that one and still have you home for bedtime. Sound good?”

“Yes! Can we get popcorn?”

“Of course! No trip to the movies is complete without popcorn.”

The two of you ate some pizza before getting ready to go. You liked getting there early enough to find your seats and see the trailers before the movie started. Texting Joel on your way out the door to let him know you were taking Sarah out, the two of you climbed into your car.

The movie theater was busy as usual for a Saturday evening, but you found a good parking spot beneath a light post not far from the entrance. There were lines for tickets and concessions leaving you relieved at arriving early. With tickets in hand, you led Sarah to the shortest of lines in front of the concessions counter. That’s when you saw them.

A tall blonde with big hair and legs for days, wearing tight fitting jeans like a second skin and yapping away while walking closely with a taller man with broad shoulders and curly, dark hair. The man’s sleeves were rolled up, his left hand placed low on the woman’s back, gently guiding her as she gripped a bucket of popcorn and a fountain drink. Another fountain drink was clutched in the man’s right hand. As if he felt the searing heat of your jealous gaze, the man turned, and your stomach plummeted.

Joel’s dark umber eyes met yours in surprise, his hand dropping from the woman’s back as he watched your face fall. He looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether to carry on with his date or rush to your side. His eyes darted to find Sarah standing at your side, her focus on the snacks displayed within the glass counter. Forcing a half smile to your face, you dipped your head in greeting and turned to move forward, your attention refocusing as it was your turn to plan an order. All the while, your mind raced with thoughts of Joel and his date. Knowing that he wouldn’t want to introduce his daughter on a first date, you never told Sarah that you saw him.

Handing the bucket of popcorn to Sarah, you said, “Careful now. I’ll grab napkins and carry our drinks.” You led the way past the concessions toward the designated theater, which was, thankfully, on the other side of the building from where Joel and his date had been heading.

You phone buzzed in your pocket once you and Sarah were seated – in the middle of the aisle, at Sarah’s insistence, because you’d have the best view. It was a text from Joel.

JM: Sorry darlin’ just saw your text. Hope you and Sarah enjoy your movie.

Torn between responding or just leaving him on read, you went with a third option and gave his message a thumbs up before shoving the phone deep into your pocket. Minutes later, you relented with a sigh, pulling the phone back out to respond a little kindlier.

You: Thanks. I didn’t know you were taking your date to the movies or we would have gone somewhere else.

Bubbles appeared as he was typing, but you didn’t want to see what else he had to say. Silencing your phone, you shoved it back into your pocket.

You were distracted the entire movie, staring blankly at the large screen as you over-analyzed every detail about Joel’s date. She was closer to his age, maybe even a bit older, with big, perky boobs and a pretty face covered with a thick layer of makeup. Her hairstyle fit the old quote, “the bigger the hair, the closer to God” and likely took her an hour or more to style. She made an effort, that’s what seemed to matter. Meanwhile, you sat in the theater with your hair scraped back into a messy ponytail and wearing worn jeans and a hoodie. You felt like a child compared to Joel’s date.

Part of you wanted to hate her for having all the features that Joel apparently found attractive, but you couldn’t. It wasn’t her fault the man you were pining over wasn’t the least bit interested in you.

Finally, the credits rolled, and you pretended to have paid attention to the movie as you listened to Sarah gushing over it for the entire ride back to the Miller house and in the moments between brushing her teeth and tucking her into bed.

The living room couch was particularly comfortable when you sat on it, your body settling into the pillowy cushions with a sigh as you stretched across it. Staring at the ceiling, eyes blinking tiredly, you wondered when Joel would be home, both eager for and dreading his arrival. Still mortified over nearly crashing his date and self-conscious about not fitting the mold of what he found attractive, you wondered what you’d even say to him when he walked through the door.

The pull of sleep too strong to fight, you submitted to the emotional exhaustion, dozing off until a gentle shake of your shoulder caused you to stir.

“Darlin’, go sleep in the spare room,” Joel murmured as you blinked your eyes open.

It took you a moment to come back to your senses, your body following his orders before your brain kicked back to life. He stepped back as you got up, one strong hand reaching out to hold you steady as you wobbled. You met his eyes as the haze of sleep began to clear. He gazed at you with such a soft look you trembled.

“You okay there?” he asked with a quiet laugh and your eyes flicked down to his mouth, catching the glint of something on his cheek, just above his beard. Focusing on that spot, it became clearer. A very distinct lipstick mark. He wasn’t even bothering to hide it.

Wrenching yourself from his gentle grasp, you slipped on your shoes and pulled your keys from your pocket.

Joel watched your every move, confused and clearly not wanting you to leave. “Hey, where are you going? Just take the spare room. You’re still half asleep.”

Shaking your head, you avoided looking at him. “Nah, Imma head home. G’night Joel, see ya Monday,” you said, turning your back on him as you headed for the door. Unable to help yourself as you wrenched the front door open, you added, “Might wanna go clean your face off.”

“What?” his baffled question echoed behind you as the door closed.

tbc

Taglist: @mellymbee@untamedheart81@anoverwhelmingdin@runningmom94@leilanixx@pedropascalfan221@lovelyjess69 @sarahhxx03 @sofiparallel @tammythr @lulawantmula @islacharlotte @allyourfavesinoneblog @lover-of-books-and-tea @pedropascalsbbg @ashleyfilm @brittmb115

[winterrrnight]

12 with rafe I'm begging 😔😔

you ask and I shall deliver 🫡 I hope you like this nada <3 do let me know your views on this! 🩷

especially you

PAIRING: soft!rafe cameron x gn!reader

SUMMARY: there are some things Rafe will do especially just for you.

WARNINGS: established relationship, very much hates everyone but you, the reader is a perfectionist - in constant need of academic validation (it is me guys 😓), fluff, usage of nicknames like babe, baby, sweetheart, minimal swearing

EDITH SPEAKS: this is kind of self indulgent 😀 need me a man who does this for me 😭😭 anyways, yes yes we are kickstarting the fics for the 600 celly! If you were there for my 300 celly, I know how late I got with those requests and I am so sorry about that 🥲 I promise I will try my best to not let that happen this time 🥲

please reblog if you liked reading this! feedback is always appreciated ⛲

a lil note: the song below is used just as the title, and its lyrics aren't used as an inspiration.

PROMPT REQUESTED: “C’mere. Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.”

600 followers celebration || navigation

You sigh as you shut your laptop close, maybe a little too aggressively for your liking, but honestly, you couldn’t care less. You slump your head on the kitchen island in your arms, a headache already starting to creep in your head.

It’s barely week three in your new semester and you’re already piled upon with readings over readings, essays over essays, assignments over assignments, and you barely have any time with yourself or your boyfriend.

“What the actual fuck Kelce!” He groans. “Get your shit together man!” This is just the bare minimum of what he is actually saying. It doesn’t help your situation though, your headache only pulsating more harshly, making you groan in pain.

Speaking of your boyfriend, he’s sitting in the living room, headphones in as he almost yells into the microphone, as his thumbs run rapidly over the controls of the controller gripped tightly in his hands. Curse words followed by his friends’ names leave his lips, as his gaze is fixated on the screen in front of him.

You sigh as you look at him. He does not go to university because just as he graduated high school, his father passed his business onto him.

“No no no no no no!” He yells, “god what the fuck is wrong with you guys?”

His deep voice booms in your ear, and you squeeze your eyes shut, holding your head in your hands as you gently press your temples, but it does not work; Rafe’s voice level only increases with time, and it bothers you more and more.

“Rafe!” You yell out completely exasperated, from your place in the kitchen island. He doesn’t even look at you, and you realize you weren’t loud enough for your voice to penetrate through his headphones.

You get up from your chair and saunter over to Rafe, gripping his headphones and yanking them off. “Shut up!” You snap, as you toss his headphones to the side and leave the living room, stomping off to your bedroom.

Rafe watches you go away, completely stunned. He takes a deep breath before picking up his headphones. “We’re pausing it for now, and no, I will not hear any shit from either of you,” He fumes in the microphone and shuts off the game before making his way to the bedroom. As he enters inside quietly, he sees you are standing in the balcony, leaning against the railing as you look out, a stressed look on your face.

“Babe,” he says softly as he steps out to the balcony, wrapping an arm around your waist. “What's wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you mutter under your breath, not tearing your eyes away from the sky stretched out in front of you to look at him.

When he detects your reluctance to talk, or to even lean into his touch, he lets out a sigh, his arm dropping back to his side as he sits down on one of the chairs in the balcony.

A few moments pass in utter silence, as all you both here is the sound of the birds chirping in the distance, cars rushing past the streets, and the soft breeze blowing against your skin.

Your back is towards him as he watches you stand next to the railing; he can tell you are completely tense from your stance, the way your shoulders aren’t relaxed, your jaw is clenched a bit, and you are gripping the railing a little too lightly.

“Baby…” he calls out softly, “C’mere. Sit down. Tell me what’s going on.” He says. He’s determined to not let you go unspoken this time, ready to even pull you into his arms if needed.

To his surprise, you don’t deny as you trod to the empty chair next to him and sit down. His arm instantly wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you in his side. He presses a long, yet soft kiss on your forehead, rubbing your arm in a soothing motion.

“I’m sorry if I was too loud baby,” he mumbles against your hairline, “I absolutely didn’t mean to bother you so much,”

You let out a deep exhale as you shake your head. “It’s okay Rafe, I was just… too tense already and that just put me over the edge, I guess,” you murmur softly.

“What’s been keeping you tense then hm?” He asks, pressing another kiss to your forehead, his feeble attempt to comfort you as much as he can.

“This semester’s already kicking my ass,” You sigh. “I already have a shit ton of work to do, and it’s just the third week? I spend all my day doing this shit and I still can’t catch up with it. I barely have time for myself or to spend with you,”

Rafe’s grip tightens a bit on you as he pulls you in closer to himself. “You know I would typically say that it doesn’t matter, don’t stress too much, don’t work so hard blah blah blah, but I know you well enough to know it doesn’t work on you,” he says and he sees a small smile form on your face. “No matter what I’ll say, you will work hard and put in 120% effort for something which doesn’t even count that much for your grade. And you know how much I appreciate that about you, you’re insanely hard working,” a small smile on his lips as his other hand holds onto yours.

“But you know what I can do?” He continues. “I can take great care of you. You don’t have to worry about your meals; I’ll take care of them. I’ll watch a movie, give you kisses and cuddles, or do anything you want when you take a break; which, by the way, I’ll make sure you take. Whenever I see the moment, I’ll take you out wherever you want to go. I don’t want you to take unnecessary stress of the new semester sweetheart, because I know you’ll make it through it okay? You 100% will, I know that.”

You turn to look at him, a softened look in your eye. All his words slowly sink in you, and you realize you don’t have to take as much pressure of the new semester as you were. You rest your head on his shoulder and softly nod. “Thank you Rafe…” you whisper.

“There’s nothing to thank me for you sweetheart, I am your boyfriend, this is the least I can do,” he smiles as he presses another kiss to your forehead.

You slowly feel your tensions melt away as you sit with Rafe on your balcony under the warm afternoon sun, your body muscles relaxing and the stress laying heavy on your mind gradually withering away.

This is one of the moments where you realize Rafe’s the one.

↶ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊˎ-

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[cacoetheswriting]

honesty: the music video

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 2.3k summary: after a long day on set, you can't wait to get it on with your costar.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: mature themes, literally smut with a minor plot, established relationship, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praise kink, dom-ish eddie, adult language, heavy use of pet names, mentions of aftercare — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

celebrity skin. masterlist <- part of this lil' universe, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. timeline wise, this takes place somewhere after part 3 and before end part 5.

“We want it to be sexy.”

“But not too sexy.”

“Revealing.”

“But not too revealing.”

“Sounds like you guys don’t know what you want,” Eddie chimes in, interrupting the back and forth of your respective teams.

You stifle a giggle.

“That’s ‘cause of the two distinct styles,” someone from your team clarifies, “We wanna be respectful.”

“For sure,” one of the creatives on the Corroded Coffin side agrees. There’s a short pause. “We will have you two kiss at the end, though.”

At that, Eddie smirks. He looks at you from across the table and you could just about melt right there, blood rushing to your face, warming your cheeks.

“That won’t be a problem,” he says confidently and winks.

-

Honesty was a guaranteed hit. Top of the charts. Everybody that’s been so far involved in the project said it. They praised it. From the bass, drums, to the guitar and vocals. The production value was off the scale. A dream arrangement that would stand the test of time.

All the song needed was a music video equally as captivating.

A back and forth discourse began shortly after you first started recording with the band: whose style should the clip resemble more?

Corroded Coffin screamed all things dark, maybe a little gory. Their usual expression featured slightly melancholy undertones and a lot of references to all things Dungeons & Dragons. Imaginative, for sure. An artistry that had rarely been seen in the genre. 

Although it’s been an artistry vastly different from yours. 

The glitter hadn’t necessarily been your idea, but it certainly became a signature of sorts. Anything sparkly, always. And music videos that told a story. Most often one of love since that’s what you idolised ever since you were a kid — it obviously helped that love also sold millions of copies.

Eddie’s team argued that it’s the band’s song and you’re just a feature, therefore the accompanying video should lean into their style. Your management team was hesitant to agree. Calculating risk in case the lines get blurred a little too much and your pristine image shifts to the opposite end of the spectrum. Hours of arguments. Hours of negotiations. None of which you, or the rockstar were even mildly aware of. Too lost in each other's eyes and soft cotton sheets. 

Eventually, a compromise, of sorts, was found.

Ernest Hemingway’s The Killers influenced, in part, a 1946 film noir of the same title, with Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster taking the lead. The movie, in turn, inspired the black and white music video.

Done up in flair of the characters, Kitty Collins and Ole Anderson (aka Swede), you recreated iconic scenes alongside the brown-eyed rockstar. The rest of the band was also dressed to the nines. Side characters that played their instruments in the background of main shots. They blended in well, while adding a unique spin to the known story. 

Overall, the Honesty shoot quickly became a big spectacle. Bigger than anything Eddie Munson and his band of closest friends has ever been lucky enough to be a part of.

Intricate sets. Glamourous. In front of cameras and bright lights, you and your scene partner, Eddie, mouthed along the lyrics to the song as if they were a script. And with every scene, as if the two of you were the only people actually there, no equipment and no crew, you got lost a tiny bit. Lost in the chocolate of the rockstar’s wide gaze. In the way he smelled. The style of that decade suited the brunette greatly, so you became lost in how he looked in this character. Dapper. Unlike you’ve ever witnessed him before. He committed to the role too. A certain swag in his movements. How he touched you so hesitantly, delicately because that’s what the video required.

By the end of the night, after the director yells, “Cut!” to signalise a wrap, a round of applause for all involved in this project, you’re feeling hot and bothered. Sweaty, though not because you just completed a full day’s work. No. Somehow, you found the Corroded Coffin frontman even more attractive than at the start of that day — something you didn’t think was possible. When you glance in his direction, he’s already staring you down, and you know he feels the same way.

Backstage, inside your trailer, you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch. Fingertips at your lips as you wait for that inevitable knock on your door. You know it’s only a matter of time considering the build up of tension throughout the shoot. From the lingering touches and that kiss the director had you two repeat over and over and over…

Logically, you could wait until the two of you were home. Back at Eddie’s Hidden Hills mansion, away from prying eyes and ears. In a bed that’s become all too familiar. Far from possible interruptions. Logic however, well, right now, logic was taking a back burner ‘cause you needed him now. Desperately. And without a doubt, Eddie needed you too.

A knock. Then again. But the rockstar doesn’t wait for you to answer. He lets himself in. 

“What happened to the wig?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It was itchy,” he replies with a slight laugh, then shakes his head. “I much prefer my natural locks.” 

“That’s too bad,” you say with a slight shrug, “You looked quite smart with that short hair.”

Eddie hangs his head with a smile, though his eyes don’t leave yours. Not even for a second. That’s when you notice the glimmer. That look, the reason he’s here, just like you predicted. So you return the expression. Only yours is a little more sly. Tempting him. Teasing. 

“I had fun today.”.

“Me too.”

There’s a lot that happens in the seconds after you stand up. A lot that happens quickly. 

Eddie reaches for your wrist, pulling you closer before wrapping his, for once, ringless hand around yours completely. He presses it to the middle of his chest, holding it against his heart. You can feel it beating and that’s enough to make you melt ‘cause it’s strong and you swear it skips at the contact. His other hand reaches for the base of your throat. He holds it gently, caressing upwards until he’s gripping your jaw. 

“Kissing you in front of all those other people kinda got me going,” he admits in a low tone.

Naughty, that’s what you want to say, but you don’t get the chance ‘cause his lips crash into yours. Hungry. Desperate. Rough. Heat rushes through your body at the sudden contact, no different than any other time his mouth found yours. You’re at his mercy, always, and he knows it well. 

His tongue glides along your top lip and you part your lips to accept him without hesitation. He wastes no time sliding into your mouth, letting this tongue work in tandem with yours as he tilts his head to further deepen the kiss. The hand holding yours lets go, instead finding home on the small of your back, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible. His other hand lets go of your jaw, albeit not completely. Ghosting along the side of your neck before you feel him wrap it around your throat, squeezing lightly. It’s nothing new for Eddie to be a little rougher with you, but there’s something about this moment, after a full day of moderate teasing and borderline foreplay, that causes a moan to burst through you when he squeezes again, only harder.

The rockstar pulls back, sporting a devilish grin. “Making such pretty noises for me and we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Do your worst, Eds.” It’s a dare. Nothing sweet about it.

He smirks at the challenge and before you can register what exactly is happening, Eddie is lifting you up swiftly, hiking up your dress in the process, only to drop you down onto the sofa with a gentle thud. You’re wide-eyed as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other tugging at the pantyhose the wardrobe lady had you wear for the last scene of the video. He partially rips them off of you, then he hikes his index finger along the band of your underwear, eagerly pulling them down your legs until they’re wrapped around your ankles, with the reminisce of your stockings.

“The heels stay on,” the rockstar instructs, pushing your legs apart with force and positioning himself in between. All you can do is nod. Half-naked, half in costume. Same as him.

In the space of a heartbeat, his lips are on yours again. This time they don’t stay for long, instead moving downwards towards your chest. When he squeezes your breast through the silk material of your dress, he compliments how fucking good you looked, “I wanted to ravish you the second I saw you, baby.”

You whimper at his words, and at the fact that his now freed cock is gently brushing against your wet folds. Not quite breaching, just teasing you further. Only adding to the overall stimulation. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot. So fucking pretty. And all mine.” Eddie’s breathing into your bare chest ‘cause somehow in the moment your dress has slipped down ever so slightly and your tits made an appearance. Fingers from one hand are digging into your hip, holding you in place, while the other has you by the ribs. Thumb brushing your soft skin while his hot mouth is sucking on your hardened nipple.

Your eyes are closed. You’re not sure when you closed them. He’s invading your senses all at once. Just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, when you want to whither and plead for him to touch you where you need him most, Eddie plunges himself into you without warning and your eyes snap open. 

“Oh God…” he groans, drawing his hips back only to slam them in again, making your body bounce against him. “Fuck, baby. Jesus.”

You sob in pleasure as Eddie knocks the wind out of you with each relentless thrust, still increasing his speed. Heavy panting and grunting fills the trailer, along with the sounds of where his cock slams against your sweet juices. He’s sitting straight now. Eyes are fixated on the mess you’re both making, where his length disappears in and out of you, while you admire the way his locks fall naturally in place. Although briefly, ‘cause you’re arching your back the next second, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all stretched open like this, sweetheart. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby. You take it so well. You take this big dick so well, my good girl. Fucking made for me. Ain’t that right, dollface?”

“Made for you, Eds.” You just about whisper back, nodding your head feverishly.

Slap. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you practically wail. “That’s right,” he praises, “Made for me. So fucking tight for me.” Slap. Slap. Slap. 

Eddie’s cock starts to swell. You can feel it expand inside of you, then again when he thrusts back in. It has you heaving. The speed he’s established is close to becoming a little too much for the two of you and he drops his weight slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his bare back. He can sense that you too are close and he’s trying hard to hold back, make this moment last longer, but his body refuses to slow down. Chasing the way your glistening pussy chokes his length. 

“Where do you want me baby?”

“Inside,” you croak out. “Cum in me, Eddie. Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“M’mph—” He chokes out, movements growing more and more erratic. The whole trailer is shaking at this point, that’s what it feels like to the two of you anyway. “Everybody out there will know what a good little slut you are. Not that innocent. Wanting me to fill you full of my cum, fuck.” 

Slap. Slap. Against your thigh. 

“Please, Eddie.” 

Slap.

“Shh… I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” He coos, “Gonna pump you full. Gonna make you see stars while my cum drips out of you.”

That’s when you shatter around him, uncontrollable desperate squeals making him groan louder as he continues. It’s sloppy, messy, and once you’ve completely unravelled underneath him, the rockstar can’t contain himself any longer. He lets out a broken moan as ropes and ropes of his warm spend start to throb into your hole.

His body gives up at the last spur and he drops flat on top of you, although not without a loose kiss placed to your jaw. His cock remains inside of your pussy. You can feel it pulsing until, after a few minutes, it no longer matches the beat of your heart.

Eddie lifts himself then. He kisses you softly and you smile against his mouth. When he eventually slips out and stands, he tells you not to move, that he’ll grab a towel from the small trailer bathroom and will help you get cleaned up.

“Wardrobe is going to kill us,” you call after him, balancing on your elbows as you sit up slowly. “Pretty sure these clothes can never be worn again. Purely for the fact that they reek of sex.”

“At least your wig stayed in place,” Eddie points out lightheartedly when he returns, his pants once again buckled, a towel in his hand. “That’s something the hair and makeup team should be proud of.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” you say, meaning it as a joke ‘cause there’s no way you would ever admit to what sins the two of you just committed.

Eddie smirks. “Pretty sure they already know,” he says as if it’s no big deal, “We weren’t exactly quiet, sweetheart.”

as always, thank you for reading! pls comment, reblog & support your creators.

celebrity skin. masterlist | the killers (1946) reference

& the celebrity skin. taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills - (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

[spikedfearn]

I Said Just a Little Bit, Then I Got a Taste of It

Chapter V

bjorn x fem!reader

summary: After being transferred to another sector of Jackson's Star you reluctantly befriend a ragtag group of people with the exception of one cocky asshole who knows just how to get under your skin.

On the surface, you hate each other, but after experiencing a particularly harrowing event together, the two of you grow closer than anyone else could ever imagine.

a/n: bjorn fucks you seven ways to Sunday. that's it, that's the chapter. also, I don't know why it took me five chapters to realize I never mentioned the title of the fic is from the song "small doses" by bebe rexha lol, the lyrics inspired the story, it's worth a listen if you've never heard it before.

warnings: secret friends with benefits, enemies to lovers, angst, alcohol/drug use, nsfw, non-linear narrative, trauma bonding, resolved sexual tension, praise kink (both ways), oral (giving/receiving), loss of virginity, dirty talk, shower sex, falling in love

tags: @asvtrials @urfavhanna @orangebeauty @3arthtoeden @barnes70stark (comment if you wanna be notified when a new chapter drops)

wc: 5.1k

Masterlist Next Chapter

It was meant to be a one time thing—sleeping with Bjorn.

Something that neither of you would ever bring up, not to anyone, not to each other, a silent pact of secrecy you mutually understood but, like everything else that's happened since your transfer to sector six, things don't go as planned. 

Kay nearly lunges at you when she sees you again, having barely been extracted from the ruins of that specific section of the man made tunnel you’d been down in. Her fingers create wrinkles in the fabric near the shoulder blades of your grimy tee you haven't gotten a chance to change out of, face wet with tears, arms coming up to return her embrace, the first time you've actually ever done so. 

She'd been crying ever since she heard the news, word having traveled fast about what had happened after you went looking for Bjorn in the mines. Kay and the others had immediately rushed over to the accident site only to be met with heavy yellow tape and traffic cones policed by armed guards, roping the area off to the rest of the colonists that had gathered there. 

According to the reports, you and Bjorn had been trapped for just over six hours, which doesn't seem accurate, not when it felt like an eternity to you, throats tight from the fumes while you found comfort in each other. 

Speaking of, you glance over to see Tyler and Navarro taking turns bear hugging Bjorn, squeezing him a little tighter, holding him a little longer, undoubtedly over the moon to have him back alive. 

Navarro buries her face in his chest to hide her tears, never one to show her emotions just like her brother, though the shakiness in her shoulders gives it away, the flat of his palm running over her back to reassure her. 

You turn the other way as soon as you realize Bjorn is craning his head to look in your direction, his gaze burning into your profile with the intensity of it, fighting the urge to look over and meet the icy blues of his irises. 

While you keep your eyes trained elsewhere you can't help but wonder what Bjorn is thinking while he stares at you, if he's thinking about what you just did together. If he's remembering how you sounded crying out his name, the way you looked desperately bouncing on top of him, how it felt to be inside of you with nothing in between. 

You suppress the shudder threatening to run down the length of your spine thinking about it, not wanting Kay to notice, even if you could theoretically write it off as a side effect from being trapped for hours.

That’s when Tyler makes his way over to you and Kay, who's just barely let you go, swapping places with her to hug you next and apologize profusely, feeling guilty for what happened, like he's trying to take responsibility for sending you in after Bjorn, like it's his fault.

“Tyler—Tyler listen,” you insist, hoping to assuage his remorse, finally getting him to pull back and look at you, holding you at arm's length by your biceps, “I don't blame you like—at all. How could you've possibly known what was gonna happen? Besides, it was probably a good thing, Bjorn and I talked it out and we're…okay now.” 

Thing is though, you honestly don't know where the truth lies in that statement, having no clue where you and Bjorn stand at the current moment. 

Yeah, you hooked up and yeah it was incredible, best lay of your life—which isn't saying much considering you were hammered every other time—but you have no idea how it'll affect your dynamic going forward, what parts of it will inevitably change and what will remain the same, if anything at all. 

And that scares you, the uncertainty of it all, downright terrifies you. It's the entire reason you chose to isolate yourself from other people after your transfer, wanting to be left alone, a type of peace that can only be forged within yourself, finding solace in its predictability. 

But you've been flirting with danger instead, ever since you accepted Kay's invite to hangout, telling yourself—lying to yourself—that you won't get too close as you were integrated into the group, so slow and imperceptible you didn't even notice until you were in too deep, up to your shoulders in a bottomless pit of quicksand. 

Once the medical team on standby clears you and Bjorn you're free to go, watching Tyler sling his arm around Bjorn's shoulders and ask if he and Navarro would like to have a sleepover at his and Kay's, “yanno like when we wuz little,” he laughed, patting Bjorn's chest with an added layer of enthusiasm, Bjorn accepting the invite with an easy little smile and nod. 

You part ways soon after, promising Kay you'll talk to her later after you've showered and gotten a good night's rest. Going home to clean off the dirt and debris and dry come, scrubbing extra hard between your legs, scrubbing your thighs until they're almost red and raw, like you're trying to erase what happened, washing the evidence down the drain by your feet. 

Though it does nothing to get rid of the finger-shaped bruises sitting just under your hips or the hickey halfway down your neck, examining them while you stand naked in the mirror you have hanging in your bedroom, a gradually fading reminder of what happened between you and him. 

A structural defect in the support beams, that's what you're told the day after the cave-in while you're clocking in for another sixteen hour shift, something that had resulted in a disastrous domino effect leading to the collapse. An accident waiting to happen, blamed on the colonists who first erected the area rather than the corporation that had them go into the mines in an unsturdy environment in the first place.

The rescue mission wasn't about you and Bjorn, you worked that out on your own, why would they care about two low ranking miners that were referred to by numbers anyways? It was about the valuable resources that could still be extracted, saving you was a byproduct of retaining that tunnel before it could bury it all under rubble and wood. Fucking figures.

After work you stop by a convenience store and pick up a variety of pregnancy tests from different brands just to be sure, rushing back to your apartment to take them in the privacy of your own home, holding the plastic bag close to your chest so anyone passing by can't possibly see what's inside. 

The fifteen minute wait is eating at you, feeling longer than the time you spent trapped underground, leg jiggling impatiently while you sit on the closed toilet lid with your fingers loosely steepled together, one elbow resting on either knee. 

You slump back against the porcelain tank, eyes rolling up to the plaster-ridge ceiling the same time all the tension in your body drains when they all, by some miracle, come back negative. Thank fuck. That's one less thing you need to stress out over. Now you just have Bjorn to worry about, which is significantly less terrifying.  

There's a knock at the door, startling you, immediately sweeping your arm across the laminate counter to trash everything, yelling over your shoulder to, “hold on a fucking second!” when the knocking persists. It can't be Tyler this time, he isn't this impatient. Or annoying.  

Although you wish it had been, your eyes meeting striking blue ones as soon as you answer the door, your heart plummeting to your feet like a runaway dumbwaiter in an elevator shaft. 

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” You hiss, looking left then right then left again to check if anyone is around, slightly relieved when you see no one—only slightly though, because Bjorn is standing on your doorstep like he just—belongs here. 

“Whoa, calm ur tits love,” he responds, holding his hands up in front of him, “want me ta’ suck on ‘em again?” he smirks right after, causing your blood pressure to spike through the roof. 

You curl your fingers into the loose fabric of his shirt, Bjorn letting you roughly yank him inside, using his back to slam the door shut behind him, still wearing that smug, shit-eating grin on his dumb face. 

“The fucking nerve of you just showing up here unannounced!” You don't yell, not wanting the neighbor you share a wall with to overhear but you get pretty close to it. 

Outwardly you're fuming, his shirt still twisted up in your clenched fist but inwardly—inwardly you're trying not to buckle under your own weight, inhaling the familiar scent of tobacco and winter gum rolling off his warm breath, remembering the taste of it, knees feeling a little weak and strange because of it. What the hell is wrong with you?

“And how exactly would I announce it? S’not like I got ya’ digits princess,” he reasons, punctuating his sentence with an annoying little chuckle. 

“Even if I did I would've blocked your dumbass immediately,” you fire back, a bit harsher than usual, wanting him to take the hint and get the fuck out of your home. You don't even wanna look at his face right now, still coming to terms with what you'd done while under duress. 

Because seriously—who fucks in a mineshaft when you're about to die? It kinda makes you wish you did, hoping for a sinkhole to open up from under your feet right now and swallow you whole out of sheer embarrassment. 

“Ma’ point,” he says, tipping his head at you, making you huff, “whatever,” lacking a rebuttal, letting his shirt go to take a step back and tightly cross your arms in front of you, “why'd you come here anyway?”

“Well innit obvious,” Bjorn answers, taking a step forward, then another. And another. And another. And you freeze up, Bjorn close enough now your bodies are almost pressed together, gently placing his thumb on your chin while the rest of his fingers curl under your jaw so you have no choice but to look at him, “for a round two princess.” 

Your eyes go wide in surprise and your lips goldfish apart—you don’t know what you were expecting him to say but it definitely wasn’t that. “I only did it in the first place because I thought we were gonna die!” 

Bjorn rolls his eyes, leaning in to whisper into your ear, voice like coarse velvet, “don’t act like it wasn't tha’ best screw o’ ya’ life, princess. The way ya’ were moaning ma’ name and tha' heavenly way you wuz squeezin’ around ma’ cock. Haven’t stopped thinkin’ bout it since.”

So he was thinking about what happened in the mine when he looked over at you during your little reunion with the others. You briefly wonder how often he's replayed it in his head, if he lay awake last night while everyone slept around him, remembering how it felt to have his fingers inside you, his cock. If he dreamt about it, hearing your whimpers and pleas to a vivid degree, the sensation of his hands touching the most intimate parts of your body, burning hot like fire ants across your skin, just like you did. 

He runs his thumb over your bottom lip, bringing your attention back to him, his touch gentle—barely there, like he's handling porcelain, staring into your eyes for an incredibly long, drawn-out moment. 

Then his lips are on yours again, soft and hesitant, like he's testing the waters and you just melt into it, powerless to quit while you're ahead, your eyes falling close as you open your mouth, letting his tongue slip in. 

It's easier to find the rhythm this time around, having gotten more than acquainted with Bjorn's style of kissing, the slick sound of it permeating through your tiny apartment, heat already gathering in your pelvis knowing what’s to come, where this is leading to. 

Bjorn chuckles into the warm, wet cave of your mouth, thumb running over your now spit glossed lips, eyes roving over your face, seeming to like what he sees, “who knew I jus’ had ta’ stick my tongue down ya’ throat to get ya’ ta' shuddup? Woulda done it tha’ first night i met ya’ if I'da known.” 

“Fuck off—hold on,” you pause, spreading your fingers apart with your hand on his chest, feeling his quickening heartbeat against your palm, “I'm not about to let you fuck me raw again,” you follow up, firm in your stance this time, thoughts wandering to the pregnancy tests sitting in the bottom of your trashcan. You were so fucking lucky not to get knocked up the first time around, you're not about to risk it a second time. 

A smirk stretches across his face, reaching into the pocket of his tan quilted lined work jacket to fish out a box of condoms, “bought a pack on ma’ way ‘ere. And I hope ya’ know I plan on usin' every. Single. One o’ ‘em. These fuckers are bloody expensive.” 

You exhale a breathy moan, nodding your head in return before you curl your fingers into his shirt again, except, instead of pushing him backward you yank him forward, smashing your lips back together. 

It's intoxicating—making out with Bjorn, maybe that's why you're so utterly weak when it comes to his advances, whimpering so needy and eager in response to him slipping his hands into the back pockets of your jeans to roughly squeeze your ass through them. 

The kiss you're tangled in is somehow more desperate than the one you shared in the mines less than forty eight hours ago, like you're both testing to see if the first time was a fluke or if it'll be just as incredible on the second go around.

“Ya’ gotta call tha’ shots last time princess, this time I wanna,” he tells you, more confident this time around, his eyes softening anyways, “if thas’ okay with ya’?”

The smile you give him is equally as soft, genuine, squeezing his wrist where it's still resting against the denim of your jeans, “what do you want baby?” 

“Wanna eat ya’ out. Make ya’ come on ma’ tongue then fuck ya’ nice and deep,” he groans thinking about it, arms circling your waist to keep you close, moaning back just as weak and strained. You've never had someone care about your pleasure the way he does, never had anyone go down on you. 

So you're pretty sensitive when he does, needy and pliant in his hands when he has your hips pinned down to your bed, jaw going slack as he licks up between your folds, following your breathy direction. 

It's hard telling him what to do, a broken moan escaping you on every other word, legs quivering under him, repeating, “good boy,” like a scratched record every time his tongue finds your clit, able to pinpoint it after so many praises whimpered, circling his tongue around it, spurred on by the pet name.

Cupping the underside of both thighs, his nails bite into your skin, drawing them up so your knees are pointed to the ceiling, wearing them like a pair of earmuffs while he sucks on the bundle of nerves his lips are curved around. 

“Mmm, yeah just—fuck that feels so good, you're doing so good, keep going just like that. Good boy,” you keen, high and pretty, your hand going between your legs to find the sweaty mess of his hair and yanking on it, making him growl in response. So, he likes his hair pulled too.��

Bjorn settles his upper lip just above your clit, careful to cover his teeth, his bottom lip just above your opening before he licks into you, pushing his tongue in, causing you to grind down onto him, pulling on his scalp a little harder.

He spells his name out on your clit, like he owns it, says he read up on it just to make it good which turns you on all the more, knowing he cares enough to learn what to do and how to do it, how to get your thighs closing around his head and grinding down on the warm wet muscle penetrating you. 

He shallowly fucks it in and out of you, the spit naturally produced on his tongue aiding in the slip and slide, warm breath wafting over the cooling trail of spit causing you to shiver even more.

It's when Bjorn's pushing his fingers in alongside and curling them over your g-spot that has your abdominal muscles spasming, coming on his tongue just like he wanted, licking you into hypersensitivity. 

Bjorn looks just as drunk on it as you are, despite being completely sober when you pulled him into your apartment, lids droopy and his eyes glossed over, crawling over you to fuck you nice and deep just like he promised. 

You go through three condoms that night. After the bed you make your way into the shower next, sliding up and down the steamed glass door as he fucks you up against it, your hands and tits leaving sweaty imprints for several seconds from behind because of it. 

He has his shin resting against the lip of the low square tub to keep his balance, the warm water washing down over you with his fingers resting right over the bruises he left from before. Bjorn thrusts up into you, spearing you hard and fast, like he's trying to knock your pelvis out of its frame. 

It feels so good, beyond anything you've ever felt before, grunting into your ear that you're, “jus’ as wet n’ tight as before’ and that you're a, “littla’ fuckin’ tease ain't cha’ princess?” 

This is all under your command, something you told him to do after you soaked through your bedsheets, needing another spot to absolutely ruin, one hand curling over the lip of the glass door to keep it shut tight while he erratically fucks you up against it from behind, still learning how to channel it all in his hips so he can rail you that much harder. 

Strands of hair are sticking to your face, trying not to swallow any of it as you cry out from the force of his thrusts, rattling the glass in its frame. There's no fucking way your neighbor doesn't know what's going on now, not that you really find it in you to give a shit at the moment. 

He trashes the condom when you turn off the now cold water and get out, leading you back to the ratty futon you use as a sorry excuse for a couch, sucking another huge hickey into your neck just above your collarbone, like he's claiming his territory. 

Bjorn's refractory period is incredibly short, already getting hard again as he's toweling off, rearranging you on all fours, ass up face down, his palm flat between your shoulders blades, fingers spread out over your still wet skin while he hits it from the back. 

“Good—ah, good boy. You're doing so good, fucking me so well,” you keen, a high and needy pitch when your words have the desired affect and he plows into you that much harder. Work is gonna absolutely fucking blow tomorrow but you don't give a shit about that either, hoping to feel that ache between your legs every time you have to bend down and retrieve something or pick up the drill after a regulated break, vividly recalling everything he did to you. 

“Fuck ur pussy’s so addictin’ princess, can't get a ‘nough o’ it,” he growls, adding to the bruises he's already left on your thighs to your hips this time, the wet slap of skin and your moans echoing off the walls of your tiny apartment. 

Your fingers claw at the sheetless mattress, trying to cling onto something as your orgasm slams into you like a freight train, the imprint of your wet naked body left behind for the cotton drill fabric to absorb. 

Bjorn grunts when he comes again, nearly collapsing on top of you, his gloved cock still inside as he slowly softens, peppering little kisses all over your back. 

“Fuckin’ amazin,’” he sighs, sharing your sentiment. You've both proven your hypothesis correct, both times were just as mind blowing as the first, maybe even better, your bodies in tune now that you know what the other likes, what gets each other off. 

You hum in agreement, your heartbeat slowly returning to normal. “Gonna have to go to bed soon. You know, for work.” 

He groans in annoyance, rolling off your body to lie next to you, loosely steepling his hands behind his sweaty head, “right—work.” 

“What, did you forget?” You snort, crossing your arms to rest your cheek on your stacked wrists while you look at his profile, from his pretty lashes down to the plush of his lips. Sometimes you forget just how attractive he is. 

“Yanno,” he says, making eye contact with you then, holding a warmth you've never seen before, affection blossoming inside your chest as a result, “fo’a moment—I did.” 

“Oh,” is all you can say in response, burying your face directly into your arms so he can't see how pink your cheeks are. You're not used to this, someone being sweet on you, at least not someone you're actively sleeping with, everyone else just faceless nobodies you met at a bar or in a liquor store. 

Bjorn fucks you one last time before he leaves, this time with you on your back so he can look you in the eyes while he pushes in slow and deep, so deep it feels like his cock is brushing up against your pelvis. 

There's no dirty talk this time around, just Bjorn whispering hushed praises like, “ur so fuckin' stunning it's unreal” and “ur so good ta’ me, ma’ good girl.” Kissing over your chest, your neck, your face, every one of them feeling like a thank you, your heart feeling strange inside your chest. 

It's so incredibly intimate and foreign, something you've never experienced before, his hand finding yours so he can weave your fingers together, holding it up by your head while he thrusts inside, taking his time in taking you apart. 

He kisses you when you come together, no tongue, no desperation, just an endlessly soft press of his lips to yours, kissing your forehead as he pulls out, cleaning you up with a wet washcloth after you tell him where to find them, boneless and tired against your futon. 

You exhale into the quiet air as soon as he leaves, gaze tracing over the ceiling, like you're searching for an answer that isn't there. What the absolute fuck have you gotten yourself into? 

After that night, instead of blowing off steam in the mines, Bjorn blows his steam off on you, coming around every night to fuck you once, twice, sometimes three times if he's feeling particularly frisky, having gone through three and a half boxes of condoms. That's like 140 condoms. Jesus he's so fucking horny all the time. 

It's to the point you give him your door code to avoid any unwanted questions if anyone passing by just happened to see him waiting alone on your doorstep, sometimes coming home to him already naked on your bed if his shift ends before yours or hustles down the short hallway to tackle you if yours ends before his. 

It's supposed to be casual, just something you do to work through all the pent-up tension you build while tearing down the rock in the mines, a way for you to forget about it all if only for a few hours. You want it to stay like this, easy and uncomplicated, so you keep it a secret from the others, something Bjorn ultimately agrees to when you insist on it. 

He seems displeased by your request which takes you by surprise, figuring he'd be just as on board with it as you are but he doesn't argue, just nods his head while looking up at your ceiling, settled back against your upright futon still fully-clothed, chewing his bottom lip between his teeth. 

You decide not to pry, even though you really, really, want to, itching to pick his brain and decipher why he doesn't seem to like it but a part of you, the majority of you, doesn't want to know the answer, afraid of what it might be, so you just don't open that can of worms.  

You're at a bar with everyone, knowing full well Bjorn will find his way into your bed soon after—like he always does. It's the only sure thing other than the zero percent chance of sunlight LV-410 gets.

It's been two months since you and Bjorn started fucking on the down low. Kay is waddling now, very, very round and puffy. It's cute, she has that pregnancy glow about her, especially since the group's been splitting her shifts up amongst everyone so she can kick her swollen ankles up and relax, something she is endlessly grateful for. Promising to name her baby boy after every single one of you, but you don't think, “Tyler Bjorn Navarro Rain,” followed by your name then Harrison makes for a very good one.

You're nursing your cold beer in your hands, knocking back another swig as Tyler goes on another long-winded speech about giving capitalism the middle finger if he wasn't a cog in it, already drunk. 

“Whoa,” Navarro whistles, looking at the side of your neck, at the fresh hickey Bjorn gave you last night, sitting too high up to hide under the collar of your shirt, like this was his plan all along, “who gave you that?” 

Everyone turns to look so you slap your palm over the purpling bruise, flinching at the slight sting. God you're getting sloppy, you should've told him to suck somewhere you could hide, that bastard. Now you're flaming red, the intensity of your blush and the way your floundering for an answer confirming their suspicion. 

“Oooo,” Kay joins in, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively, giggling, “is there something you’re not telling us? Someone perhaps?”

“I uh—well. It's nothing. Just tripped is all,” you lie, very lamely you might add. It's too perfect and round to be anything other than what it is and no one's buying it, not even Andy. Andy.

“Yah n’ fell right into tha' jaws of a hungry shark,” Tyler cracks, slapping his knee over his own joke, like it's the funniest thing in the fucking world. It isn't, it really, really fucking isn't. You feel caught, like a fish in a casting net, out of breath and fighting for your life. This is the worst possible scenario, the absolute last thing you wanted to happen.

“Yah,” Bjorn smirks, torpedoing through all the noise, immediately lifting your head to glare at him, hand still over your neck, sending a flirty little wink your way, “why don’tcha share with tha’ class princess?” 

“You’re the absolute last person I wanna fucking hear from jackass,” you seethe, biting his head clean off his shoulders, angry and embarrassed. He falters, picking up on your tone, looking sorry for saying anything. Good. He fucking should be. He isn't the one being grilled right now, even though he's the cause of it all. 

“I gotta go,” you announce, rushing out of the bar despite everyone calling for you to come back. You'll never live this down, feeling like the talk of the town all over again, just like you were back in your old sector. 

You don't let Bjorn leave hickeys on your neck anymore, making him swear that he won't do it again if he wants to keep fucking you so he obliges, apologizing between filthy, wet kisses which you appreciate. 

No one asks you anything else about the guy you're sleeping with, aware that you'll just clam up and leave, which you appreciate even more, pretending like the whole bar incident didn't happen in the first place, denial your only way to cope. 

Bjorn usually leaves after you're both fucked out and spent but then—then he starts to stay. Starts to hold you in his arms when you're done, tucking your hair behind your ear, kissing your scalp, telling you something along the lines of, “even assholes like me like a good cuddle every now n’ then.”

It's warm. Safe. Your head is pillowed against his chest, your ear pressed to his left pec, listening to the rhythmic sound of his heartbeat, the even rise and fall of his diaphragm. It's comforting, tangling your legs with his, feeling your eyelids grow heavy with exhaustion. You could stay like this forever, just you two. 

But you don't want that. Can't want that. You've already allowed yourself to get close to people again but this—this is something else entirely, getting close to someone on an extremely intimate level like this. You're playing with fire and you know you could get burned at any moment. Will get burned. Emotions are the worst thing to have in a place like this, only producing pain when the inevitable happens, and it always, always does. 

You just can't help but want to know how he's doing, if he's doing well, if he's thinking about you. 

You don't just wanna see him at night when you're casually hooking up, you wanna see him in the morning too. Want to cook breakfast just for two and hold hands under the table while he makes fun of your terrible cooking but eats it anyway because you made it just for him. And you don't just wanna hold his hand in the privacy of your apartment, you wanna hold it when you're with the gang or walking around in general. 

You wanna do stupid mundane shit with him like grocery shopping or folding laundry, washing dishes while he dries them or cuddling under the blankets while you enjoy a movie night, sitting in his lap or on the other side of the futon with your legs tangled in between while he tickles you even though you fucking hate being tickled. But you might not totally hate it if it's him. 

And you wanna be greeted by him at the end of every night because these four walls are just a shitty space you reside in, you wanna come home to him. 

Because Bjorn feels like home.  

Your heart is so full and warm yet light and airy at the same time, like a swollen helium balloon wanting to float up and away into the atmosphere watching him sleep, a sort of peace on his face you don't get to see often.

Oh. Oh—fuck no, you think as the realization starts to sink in, utterly disbelieved that it's taken you this long to notice, to make sense of it.

You're falling for Bjorn. 

[alltheeya]

It's you || l.hs

genre: friends to lovers, fluff!!!

word count: 6k

a/n: not really the inspo for the fic, but i watched the video of Henry Lau, confessing "It's You" was inspired by Bae Suzy. He also sang it to her, occasionally switching the lyrics to "It's Suzy". i don't ship, but i just got so much butterflies from that vid so i used the song as the title and inserted it somewhere here hehe hdjkvhkjsdv anyways enjoy my first ever fic!

warnings: mentions of food/picnic, probs weird flow of events bcs of the writing(?) lol sorry, reader being too shy and nervous?, heeseung being flirty and sweet?, they kiss at the end <3

It was a sunny afternoon when Heeseung and I met for our date. The sky was clear, the air just warm enough to make the idea of a picnic in the park feel perfect. I had never been one for super romantic, cliché dates, but something about this felt... right. 

When I got to the park, I saw him standing by the entrance, looking as effortlessly charming as always. He was holding a basket, a blanket tucked under his arm, and the unmistakable shape of his guitar slung over his shoulder. He had that soft, easy smile on his face, the one I’d come to realize was reserved just for me.

I couldn’t help but feel a bit flustered as I approached him. I had picked out a cute little sundress for the occasion, and although it was just something simple, it felt perfect for the day, for the moment. The dress fluttered lightly with every step, and as I got closer, I saw Heeseung’s eyes light up as he took in my appearance.

"You look... amazing," he said, his voice filled with sincerity, and for a split second, I felt like all the attention in the world was on me. I blushed, suddenly self-conscious.

"Thanks," I said shyly, my fingers playing nervously with the straps of my dress. "You don’t look too bad yourself."

He chuckled, that little teasing smile of his dancing on his lips. "I’m glad you think so."

He stepped forward to greet me, his hands full with the items he had carried. "Here," he said, lifting the picnic basket and blanket in his hands. "I was going to wait until you got here, but now that you’re here, I—"

My eyes drifted to the guitar slung over his shoulder, curiosity piquing. "What’s the guitar for?" I asked, tilting my head slightly.

Heeseung hesitated, his cheeks turning the faintest shade of pink. "Oh, uh…" He looked away for a moment, scratching the back of his neck before meeting my gaze again. "I thought I’d… maybe sing for you later during the picnic."

I blinked, a little taken aback but mostly flustered. "You will sing for me?" I echoed, my heart skipping a beat.

"Yeah," he admitted shyly, his voice softer now. "I asked around. They said you… um…would probably melt if someone serenades you as a way of… courting you."

My cheeks instantly flushed, the memory of my past comments to my friends coming back to haunt me. "You– What?" I asked, my voice almost a whisper.

Heeseung gave a small, sheepish shrug. "I wanted to make the date special for you."

I couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across my face. My gaze shifted to the basket he was holding. "Well, since you’re carrying the guitar, let me help with the basket," I offered, reaching for it.

But Heeseung shook his head, stepping back slightly. "No," he said softly, his gaze shifting to my hands. He reached out, holding them for a moment before his eyes met mine again. "I’ve got this. But… would you mind holding my hand instead?"

I blinked at him, taken aback for a split second. His expression was so sincere, like he truly wanted the simple connection. It was such a small gesture, but in that moment, it felt so personal, so genuine.

I smiled shyly, my heart beating a little faster. "Okay," I said softly, reaching out to take his hand.

His hand was warm and comforting, and as we walked into the park together, the guitar gently bouncing against his back, I couldn’t help but think that this moment, this day, was already perfect.

As we walked together toward our spot, Heeseung looked down at me with a fond smile, and I couldn't help but blush.

"We're almost there," he said, his fingers gently squeezing mine. "I was thinking we could find a nice spot near the lake. It's peaceful there."

I nodded, my heart swelling at how thoughtful he was. "Sounds perfect."

And with that, we strolled side by side, taking our time to get to the lake, letting the day unfold at its own pace, just the two of us, together.

Heeseung had really gone all out with the picnic. As we reached our spot by the lake, he laid out the blanket with care, smoothing out any creases, and then began setting everything down. I was a little surprised by how much he had brought—everything was so thoughtfully chosen.

I couldn’t help but notice Heeseung’s playful smile as he leaned in closer, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Close your eyes for a second,” he said, his voice light, though there was a hint of something more in it.

I raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued but trusting him completely. “What are you up to?” I asked, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“You’ll see,” Heeseung responded, his voice soft, and I heard the faintest sound of something being moved.

Then, before I could even wonder what it was, I felt his fingers gently brush against my hair, and I blinked in surprise as he clipped something in place. I could tell it was delicate by the way he handled it, the motion gentle but deliberate.

“Okay, open,” he said, his tone warm and expectant.

I blinked my eyes open, my fingers instinctively reaching up to touch the clip in my hair. “What did you…?”

“It’s a flower,” Heeseung grinned, his gaze softening as he admired the clip. “Pretty, just like you.”

I couldn’t stop the heat rising to my cheeks, my heart pounding a little faster. I quickly looked away, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Y-You’re so cheesy,” I mumbled, my voice barely above a whisper.

“And you love it,” Heeseung teased, his laugh so light and full of affection that it made my heart flutter. He handed me a mirror to see the clip for myself, and I shyly adjusted it in my hair, still flushed.

“Thanks, Heeseung,” I mumbled, my voice a little quieter than usual.

Heeseung leaned in just enough for his grin to widen, his eyes sparkling with affection. “You’re welcome,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing enough to make me blush even more.

I couldn’t help but duck my head, my cheeks still burning as I tried to focus on the picnic spread in front of us. “Let’s just eat,” I muttered, though my tone was light, laced with warmth, as I hoped to distract myself from the way my heart was racing.

Heeseung let out a soft laugh, clearly enjoying my flustered reaction. “Alright, alright,” he said, opening the basket. “But just so you know, that clip is my new favorite thing on you.”

I shot him a glance, my heart fluttering a little at his words. “You’re just saying that to make me embarrassed,” I said, trying to play it cool even though the heat was still creeping up my neck.

There were sandwiches, each carefully wrapped in paper, looking perfectly made. One of them had chicken, lettuce, and mayo, while the other was a veggie one with avocado and some hummus spread. Heeseung also brought some fresh fruit—juicy slices of watermelon, strawberries, and grapes that sparkled in the sunlight. There was even a small jar of homemade lemonade that he had made himself, the lemony scent making my mouth water immediately.

"Wow, you really went all out," I said, laughing a little, feeling touched by the effort he’d put into this. I had half-expected a simple sandwich, but this was more like a small feast.

Heeseung smiled, clearly pleased with himself. "Well, I wanted it to be special," he said. "I thought you’d like it."

I nodded, my heart warming. He was always so considerate, and it made me appreciate him even more.

As we ate, I couldn’t help but glance up at Heeseung, only to notice a small crumb clinging to the corner of his mouth. My hand moved before I even thought about it, brushing it away gently. “You’ve got crumbs,” I murmured, focused on the task like it was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn’t until I dropped my hand and realized how close we were that it hit me—what I had just done. My breath caught for a second, and my eyes widened slightly. My face instantly heated up, and I leaned back quickly, clearing my throat to mask my embarrassment.

Heeseung didn’t seem fazed at all. In fact, he grinned like he’d just won a game, his eyes sparkling with a kind of mischief that made my stomach flip. I barely had a second to recover before he grabbed another snack and dramatically ate it, smearing crumbs on purpose.

Then he leaned in, tilting his head toward me with the most exaggerated pout I’d ever seen. “I think I’ve got more crumbs,” he teased, his voice dripping with playful innocence. “Think you could help me out again?”

I blinked, completely caught off guard. My brain short-circuited for a moment, trying to decide between laughing or rolling my eyes. Instead, I spluttered, “Heeseung!” and instinctively pushed his face away, though I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped.

He laughed outright, the sound warm and full, like he was having the time of his life seeing me all flustered. “What?” he asked, feigning innocence, though his grin gave him away. “You did such a good job the first time. Why stop now?”

I groaned, trying to sound annoyed, but the corners of my mouth betrayed me as they twitched into a reluctant smile. “You’re impossible,” I muttered, reaching for a napkin instead. If he thought I was using my hand again, he had another thing coming.

When I dabbed at his face with the napkin, he leaned in closer, making no effort to hide how much he was enjoying this. “I think you secretly like taking care of me,” he said, his tone teasing but his gaze soft and sincere. He winked, and I felt my heart do a ridiculous little flip.

I sighed dramatically, shaking my head, trying to keep my cool even as my cheeks warmed, but the fond smile on my face probably gave away how much I didn’t mind at all.

After we ate, we spent some time just chatting about random things—how our days had gone, how the weather was perfect for a picnic, and what we both liked to do on days like this. We didn’t have to try hard to find things to talk about; it just flowed naturally.

Then, after some time, we both leaned back, lying down on the blanket, facing the sky. The clouds drifted lazily by, the world around us quiet except for the occasional rustling of leaves . It was peaceful, just the two of us in our own little bubble.

Heeseung, always the thoughtful one, noticed the bottom of my dress going up a bit with me lying down, so he took off his jacket and gently draped it over my legs. His hands brushed against my skin as he adjusted it, and I felt a small thrill shoot through me. It was such a simple gesture, but it felt so intimate in that moment.

"Is that better?" he asked, his voice soft, and I looked up at him, smiling.

"Yeah, much better. Thank you," I said, my voice quieter than usual, feeling the warmth from his jacket spread over me.

We both laid there in silence for a few moments, felt like time had slowed down, and everything in the world was perfect in this moment.

After a while, Heeseung turned his head toward me, his eyes shining with a quiet curiosity. "What do you think of the clouds? I always like to imagine shapes when I look at them."

I turned my head to meet his gaze, finding myself smiling. "I see a rabbit in that one," I said, pointing to a cloud that was stretched out like a fluffy bunny. "What about you?"

Heeseung squinted at the sky, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "I think that one looks like a dragon," he said, laughing a little.

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, trying to picture it. "I don’t see it."

"It’s there, I swear!" Heeseung chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Maybe you just need to look harder."

I giggled, shaking my head. "Maybe you’re just making it up."

For a while, we kept looking at the clouds, pointing out shapes to each other and laughing at how different our imaginations were. It felt so easy, so comfortable, like we had been doing this forever.

Eventually, the conversation shifted to other things—like dreams, goals, and silly things we'd done in the past—but the way we were laying there, side by side, felt like the kind of connection I hadn’t realized I was longing for. It wasn’t rushed, there were no expectations. It was just us, in this peaceful moment, sharing the quiet joy of being together.

As we were lounging on the blanket, enjoying the serene afternoon, Heeseung suddenly sat up and reached for the guitar he had set beside him. I sat up too, curious, as he started to tune it, the sound of the strings bringing a sense of calm to the already peaceful atmosphere.

Heeseung adjusted the guitar on his lap, his fingers brushing over the strings as he looked up at me with a shy smile. "Ready?" he asked, his voice a little nervous but sweet.

I nodded, clasping my hands together in my lap to keep from fidgeting. "I’ve been ready since I saw the guitar," I teased, trying to calm my own nerves.

He grinned, ducking his head a little, and started strumming the familiar opening chords of Ed Sheeran's Thinking Out Loud. As he sang, his voice soft but steady, I felt my cheeks warm up. His voice was beautiful, effortlessly smooth, and filled with emotion.

When he finished the song, I clapped enthusiastically, cheering, “That was so good!” My heart swelled when I saw the shy smile that tugged at his lips as he glanced down at the guitar, clearly pleased.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, already transitioning into the next song.

The upbeat rhythm of Can’t Take My Eyes Off You filled the air, and Heeseung seemed to grow a little more confident as he played. He swayed slightly to the music, his eyes occasionally flicking up to meet mine as he sang the lyrics. I couldn’t help but laugh and clap along, my excitement growing with each note.

When the second song ended, I cheered again, and this time, he chuckled softly. "You’re making me nervous with all the clapping," he teased, though his smile said otherwise.

“Sorry,” I said, not sorry at all, grinning at him. “You’re just doing so well!”

He nodded, his playful smile softening into something gentler. “Alright. Last one.”

As soon as he began the opening notes of It’s You by Henry Lau, I felt my breath hitch. The melody was soft and intimate, and his voice took on an almost tender quality. But what really got me was the way he held my gaze as he sang.

I felt my face heat up more and more with each lyric, my heartbeat quickening as the song reached its final line. “You...It’s you…,” he sang softly, his eyes never leaving mine. The intensity in his gaze made me feel like I was the only person in the world in that moment.

I forgot to clap.

Heeseung broke the spell with a shy laugh, his voice tentative as he asked, “How did I do?”

I blinked, realizing I had been holding my breath. My voice came out quieter than I intended, but it was filled with sincerity. “I loved every single bit of it. Thanks, Heeseung.”

His ears turned a little pink at my words, and he scratched the back of his neck, clearly pleased but unsure how to respond.

We both sat there, the guitar resting across his lap, the moment stretching between us. I wasn’t sure if my cheeks would ever stop burning, but I also didn’t care. It was perfect—he was perfect. And for the first time in a long time, I felt like this kind of sweetness was exactly where I belonged.

 “Glad you do…” Heeseung said with that boyish grin of his, the kind that made my heart flutter. He puts away his guitar and moved to sit beside me, the soft strum of his guitar still echoing in my mind.

Without thinking, I leaned my head onto his shoulder, the movement instinctual, comfortable. I couldn’t help it; it felt like the most natural thing in the world. My arm instinctively linked with his, and I glanced up at him, a little nervous. "Is this okay?" I asked, my voice soft.

Heeseung turned his head toward me, a small smile forming as he nodded. "Yeah, it’s more than okay." Then, without hesitation, he rested his head on top of mine, the warmth of his touch sending a rush of contentment through me.

We sat there for a moment, simply enjoying the quiet and the closeness, before Heeseung broke the stillness with a playful tone. “So, my guitar skills worked, huh? Seems like I’ve got the magic touch,” he teased, his voice full of mischief.

I lifted my head and narrowed my eyes at him, trying to keep the playful facade, but my smile betrayed me. "You think so, huh?" I asked, trying to sound serious, but failing miserably.

He chuckled softly, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay. I was just joking.” He gently guided my head back onto his shoulder, his touch warm and reassuring. “I’m just happy you liked it,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost like he was savoring the moment.

A comfortable silence enveloped the two of us again, the kind of peaceful stillness where words weren’t needed. The only sound was the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of life around us, but in that moment, it felt like everything had slowed down.

Then, Heeseung lifted my hand, the one that had been linked to his arm, and placed a soft, lingering kiss on the back of it. His lips were warm against my skin, and I couldn’t help but feel my heart skip at the tender gesture. He lowered my hand back down, both of his hands gently enclosed around it, as if holding onto something precious.

I turned my head up to him, my heart fluttering from the intimacy of the moment. "What was that for?" I asked, my voice a little breathless, unsure of how to process the sweetness of what had just happened.

Heeseung looked down at me with that soft, almost shy smile, as if the kiss had been a simple, natural thing. "Just because… I wanted to," he said quietly, his voice sincere but laced with a hint of playfulness.

I shook my head slightly, trying to hold back my grin as I playfully rolled my eyes. “You’re weird,” I teased, my voice light and affectionate.

I rested my head back down on his shoulder, this time a little more comfortably than before. Heeseung chuckled softly at my comment, but there was a tenderness in his laughter. 

We spent the rest of the time talking about random things, easy conversation flowing between us again. I could feel the peaceful warmth between us, a sense of belonging and comfort I never wanted to end. Every now and then, Heeseung would squeeze my hand or I’d catch him looking down at me with that soft smile, and it made my heart skip a beat.

I felt my heart beat a little faster as I tightened my hold on his arm, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “You know, you looked really handsome a while ago, playing the guitar and singing,” I said, my voice quiet, trying to sound casual, though I could feel the heat creeping up to my cheeks.

Heeseung didn’t miss a beat. He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on me. "Just handsome?" he teased, raising an eyebrow. "Not handsome, attractive, and charming?"

I rolled my eyes, though I could feel a smile tugging at my lips despite my embarrassment. “Okay, okay,” I mumbled, trying to look away but not being able to hide the way my face was probably flushed. "You’re all of that, too. Happy?"

Heeseung chuckled, clearly enjoying teasing me. “I’ll take it," he said, his voice light but with a warm edge. “But just so you know, you’re not too bad yourself. You’re pretty cute when you’re all flustered like this."

I blinked, caught off guard by his words. I lifted my head to look at him, a little flustered but also amused by the way he could turn the tables so easily. “You’re really something, you know that?,” I muttered, though the smile on my face .

Heeseung grinned, his eyes softening as he leaned a little closer. “But you like it, don’t you?”

I just laughed softly, unable to deny how much I enjoyed moments like this with him. “You’re lucky I do,” I replied, resting my head back against his shoulder, the warmth between us feeling just right.

I felt a small flutter in my chest as his thumb gently rubbed against my hand, his touch so tender, making my heart skip a beat. I blinked at him, momentarily distracted by how close he was, but his question made my thoughts suddenly scatter.

“Y/n?”

I swallowed, feeling a little shy under the intensity of his gaze. “Hm?” I hummed softly, trying to keep my composure, though my heart was racing just a little.

Heeseung’s voice dropped a little softer as he asked again, “Why did you agree to go out with me? And all of this?” His eyes lowered to my hand for a moment, his thumb continuing its slow, steady caress. He met my gaze again, his expression vulnerable yet warm. “I thought you weren’t the type to say yes to dates, or... that’s what I’ve heard.”

I felt my grip on his arm tighten involuntarily, his words making me feel a little exposed, but there was a gentle warmth in his voice that made it impossible for me to be upset. He was just curious, I knew that.

I tilted my head slightly, blinking up at him, trying to process the question. “You’ve heard that, huh?” I asked, my voice quieter than usual, the weight of his gaze making me feel like I had to think carefully about how to answer.

Heeseung nodded, his eyes never leaving mine, that soft, hopeful look still lingering. “Yeah. You just seem... selective. Like you wouldn’t say yes unless it really meant something.”

I hesitated, my heart picking up speed as I tried to find the right words. His thumb was still rubbing gentle circles on the back of my hand, soothing and distracting me at the same time.

I smiled, warmth creeping up my cheeks. “Well, you’re not wrong. I don’t usually go out of my way to... entertain stuff like this.”

Heeseung’s gaze didn’t waver, his lips parting slightly like he was waiting for me to finish.

“Well...” I began slowly, feeling heat creep into my cheeks, “I don’t really know.”  

Heeseung chuckled softly. “You don’t know?”  

I sighed, thinking about my answer carefully. “It’s just that you’re different. You’re kind, thoughtful, and... I don’t know, you make it easy to say yes. It’s like I feel... safe around you.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted into a soft smile, and he let out a breath of relief. 

“And You were just... Heeseung. And I liked that.”  

He raised a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “So, you like me.”  

I couldn’t stop myself from smacking his arm lightly, half in play and half in embarrassment. His eyes widened slightly as he let out a light 'ah' in mock surprise. His playful grin only grew, clearly enjoying how flustered I was.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t fight the growing grin. “You’re so annoying.”  

“And you’re not denying it,” Heeseung said, his grin widening as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying the rare moment of making me flustered.

I groaned in frustration, burying my face in his shoulder, hoping to hide just how embarrassed I was. “This was a mistake.”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and comforting, and reached over to gently pull my head up to face him. “No take-backs. You already admitted it.”

I pouted, my cheeks burning even hotter now, but I couldn’t help the little smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Fine. Maybe I do like you a little. Happy now?”

Heeseung’s eyes sparkled as he looked at me, his grin softening into something more genuine. "Yeah," he whispered. "Really happy."

I felt a flutter in my chest at the sincerity in his voice. There was no mistaking it. He really meant it.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, his gaze holding mine, “I’m really glad you gave me a chance.”

His words made my heart beat a little faster. I could feel the warmth in my cheeks again, but this time, it was different—comforting.

I tilted my head, trying to keep the teasing tone light, though I couldn’t entirely suppress the soft smile on my lips. “How about you, Heeseung? Out of all the ‘more gorgeous and more pretty girls', why did you choose me to go out on a date with?”

Heeseung let out a soft laugh, shaking his head. 

"Why you?" Heeseung echoed, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Out of all the ‘more gorgeous and more pretty girls,' huh?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, the playful teasing still lingering in my voice. “Yeah. I mean, you have options, Heeseung. Tons of them.”

Heeseung’s smile only grew, but there was a softness in his eyes, and something about the way he looked at me made my heart flutter. “You know what’s funny?” he began, his voice taking on a more serious tone. “I didn’t even think about it like that. It wasn’t about ‘options’ or comparing you to anyone else.”

My laughter quieted as Heeseung moved to fully face me and gently took my hands  again, holding it between both of his, his touch warm and grounding. “You stood out to me in a way no one else has. It wasn’t just about looks, though you’re gorgeous, and don’t even try to deny that.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me off, grinning as if he knew exactly what I was about to say. “What drew me to you was how genuine you are. You don’t try to be someone you’re not, and you don’t even realize how refreshing that is. I noticed it the first time we crossed paths. Even when you were just saying hi, you felt... real.”

I blinked, my cheeks warming at his words. I wasn’t sure how to respond—his sincerity had caught me off guard. But I didn’t want to break eye contact. It felt too important, too meaningful.

Heeseung’s gaze lingered on me for a moment, and then his next words came out softer, more vulnerable, as if they were something he needed to say, not just for me, but for him too. “So yeah, out of all the gorgeous girls out there... it was never a question. It’s you, Y/n. Just you.”

The weight of his words settled between us, filling the space with a sweetness I could hardly process. I was at a loss for words, my heart pounding in my chest as I looked up at him. His sincerity, the way he said my name, it felt... real. It felt like everything had fallen into place without any effort. I was the one who had to ask why him, but in that moment, I realized it had never been about anything other than the way he saw me—just me.

I smiled softly, my grip on his hand tightening as I whispered, “Just me, huh?”

Heeseung’s smile widened, his eyes brightening as he leaned in just enough for a brief moment, his presence suddenly filling the space between us. “You have no idea how happy I am that you’re with me.”

The words sent a warmth rushing through me, my heart pounding harder with every beat. Heeseung’s hand instinctively reached for mine, his touch grounding me in a way that felt both familiar and brand new.

"You’re the person I can be myself with, Y/n," he continued, his voice soft, yet full of intention. "And I want to keep doing this—being with you, spending time like this, just...us."

My heart raced as his words sank in, and without even thinking, my fingers curled around his. I couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at my lips, my eyes softening as I looked up at him. “Heeseung...”

Heeseung’s smile softened even more, the nervousness that had been there earlier now replaced with pure sincerity. His voice was gentle but unwavering as he spoke again, almost as if he had rehearsed it, but I could hear the emotion behind it.

"I like you. More than just friends, more than anything casual," he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he looked into my eyes. "I know it’s only been a couple of dates, but... would you say yes... to being my girlfriend?"

For a moment, I couldn’t breathe, my mind going blank at the sincerity in his voice. His eyes were locked on mine, and everything else seemed to fade away. The world outside, the chatter, the noise—none of it mattered in that moment. It was just me and Heeseung, the only two people in that space.

I blinked, trying to process his words. My heart fluttered in my chest, and I could feel my cheeks warming. I never imagined that I’d find myself here, with him, feeling so incredibly special.

I couldn’t help but smile, my voice coming out softly, almost in disbelief at the way my heart was beating. “Yes... I’ll be your girlfriend, Heeseung.”

His smile was so wide it reached his eyes, and I felt an overwhelming rush of happiness fill me at his answer. He let out a small, relieved laugh, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of my hand as he held it tightly. “You’re really saying yes?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief but overflowing with hope.

I took a deep breath, trying to steady myself, but the words felt like they were stuck in my throat. “I’m starting to like you a lot too, Heeseung,” I said, my voice quieter than I intended. My heart was racing, and I couldn’t help but smile shyly. "Our dates have been fun, our chats have been fun and you..." I trailed off, the words suddenly feeling too heavy to say.

Heeseung watched me with such a gentle, understanding expression, and I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I wanted to tell him how much he meant to me, how much I appreciated him, but the words felt like they were locked away, too vulnerable to voice.

He smiled, leaning in slightly, his eyes twinkling. “And me...?” he prompted softly, his voice filled with a teasing warmth that made me feel both embarrassed and adored at the same time.

I turned my gaze away for a moment, trying to hide the growing smile on my face as my cheeks flushed deeper. I swallowed, trying to steady my nerves as I finally answered, my voice softer than usual.

"You..." I paused, gathering my thoughts as I looked back at him, unable to stop the smile that tugged at my lips. "You're... a lot more than just fun, Heeseung."

Heeseung’s grin softened, his eyes warm with affection as he watched me, clearly appreciating the honesty in my words. I could feel my heart race, but in the best way possible, like every word that came out was something I couldn’t hold back.

"Talking to you feels so easy, even if you tease and flirt all the time," I added, letting out a soft laugh.

Heeseung chuckled too, his usual playful smile dancing on his lips, but there was a gentleness in his eyes that made my heart flutter.

"I really like it whenever you're around..." I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper, and for a moment, I turned away again, not sure I could continue without getting completely flustered.

But then I spoke again, a little softer this time, as if my words had a life of their own. "I never regret going on dates with you because... I always feel l appreciated everytime."

I felt my breath hitched in my throat as his hand gently cupped my face, turning me to face him again. His thumb brushed lightly over my cheek, sending a wave of warmth through me. The intensity in his gaze made my heart race, and I could barely look away from him as I tried to gather my thoughts.

Heeseung’s voice was barely a whisper, his words carrying a sweetness that made my chest tighten. “I’m really glad you feel that way, Y/n,” he said softly, his thumb brushing along my cheek again, making me shiver slightly at the warmth of his touch. 

His eyes wandered to my lips for a brief moment before meeting my gaze again, and I could feel the electricity in the air, the unspoken question hanging between us.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice low and gentle, but there was something in his eyes—a silent plea for permission. I gave him a nod

Heeseung’s movements were slow, deliberate, as if he were giving me the chance to change my mind at any moment. His eyes never left mine, the anticipation in his gaze undeniable. I felt my heart hammer in my chest, the world around us fading as the only thing I could focus on was him. The space between us was closing, each inch making my breath catch in my throat.

My eyes kept looking at his eyes then at his lips, back and forth. I could feel the heat of his presence, the warmth radiating off him as his lips brushed against mine, so tender, so soft. It was a slow, gentle kiss—one that felt like it was meant to last forever. 

The touch of his lips sent a rush of warmth through me, a feeling I’d never experienced before, and I melted into it, my hands instinctively moving to rest on his chest. Heeseung, sensing my response, wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me closer as his other hand gently cupped the back of my neck. His touch was steady and comforting, drawing me even nearer to him, our bodies pressed together as he deepened the kiss just slightly.

I could feel his heart racing too, and it only made mine beat faster. The world seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of us caught in this perfect, tender moment. Every nerve in my body felt alive, and I couldn't help but relax into his embrace, letting him guide me through the warmth of the kiss.

Heeseung pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against mine, breathing a little heavier, his hand still cradling my neck as he kept me close. His voice was soft, barely above a whisper.

“You’re incredible, Y/n,” he murmured, his thumb gently stroking the skin on my neck.

I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face, feeling all kinds of emotions rush through me. My heart was still racing, but this time, it was with happiness.

//i need heeseung to cover "It's you" now > <//

[theoutcastrogue]

Ballads of the Hanged: Swinging from the Gallows Tree

A mixtape of execution ballads and assorted tales of guilt, wrath, terror, and defiance on the gallows, where all men are brothers.

[on spotify]

21 tracks, 1h 15min in full (spotify lacks one song)

I teased this many moons ago, and I finally finished it. No booklet in PDF form (too much hassle), but I got extensive liner notes, which you can also read here, for more pictures and a wider format. Enjoy!

LINER NOTES

1. Hans Zimmer - Hoist The Colours

Heave ho thieves and beggars never shall we die

What a heartbreaking thing to say on the scaffold. But we have to start with theatrics and a drum roll, and our introduction needs no introduction.

2007, from Pirates of the Caribbean: At World's End OST lyrics: Ted Elliott & Terry Rossio music: Hans Zimmer & Gore Verbinski

2. Shirley Collins - Tyburn Tree (Since Laws Were Made)

Next stop, Tyburn: England's most notorious gallows. In The Beggar's Opera, the highwayman Macheath (later also known as Mack the Knife) observes that if they hanged rich criminals like they hang the poor ones, "'twould thin the land". Shirley Jackson subtly changed this to the better.

Since laws were made for ev'ry degree to curb vice in others as well as me, I wonder there's no better company on Tyburn Tree.

But since gold from laws can take out the sting, and if rich men like us were to swing, it would rid the land their numbers to see upon Tyburn Tree.

recorded 1966, released 2002 in Within Sound lyrics: John Gay, from The Beggar's Opera, 1728 music: traditional ("Greensleeves"), 16th century

3. Joan Baez - Long Black Veil

A country ballad about a man falsely accused of murder, who lets himself get dragged to the gallows because he won't reveal his alibi: an affair with his best friend's wife. It's been covered by a million people, here's Baez live.

The scaffold is high, eternity near, She stands in the crowd, she sheds not a tear, But sometimes at night, when the cold winds moan, In a long black veil she cries o'er my bones.

1963, from In Concert Part 2 lyrics & music: Lefty Frizzell, 1959

4. Oscar Isaac with Punch Brothers & Secret Sisters - Hang Me, Oh Hang Me

A poor boy who got "so damn hungry he could hide behind a straw", made his last stand with a rifle and a dagger, and has been all around this world, and is positively done with it.

They put the rope around my neck, they hung me up so high Last words I heard 'em say, won't be long now 'fore you die Hand me, oh hang me, and I'll be dead and gone Wouldn't mind the hanging, but the laying in the grave so long

2015, from Another Day, Another Time: Celebrating the Music of "Inside Llewyn Davis", after Oscar Isaac's rendition in Inside Llewyn Davis, 2013, in turn after Dave Van Ronk's rendition in Folksinger, 1962 lyrics & music: traditional American/unclear origin, folk song with various titles (I've Been All Around This World, The Gambler, My Father Was a Gambler, The New Railroad), first recorded by Justis Begley, 1937

5. Chapel Hill - Seven Curses

Cover of a Bob Dylan song, telling us the dark tale of a judge who's about to send a man to the gallows for stealing a horse, promises his daughter he'll show clemency if she agrees to sleep with him, and then reneges on his promise.

The next morning she had awoken to know that the judge had never spoken she saw that hanging branch a-bending she saw her father's body broken These be seven curses for a judge so cruel

2013, from One For The Birds lyrics inspired by Judy Collins's "Anathea" (1963), in turn inspired by the traditional Hungarian ballad "Feher Anna", who curses the judge "thirteen years may be lie bleeding" lyrics & music: Bob Dylan, recorded 1963, released 1991 in The Bootleg Series

6. Ewan MacColl - Go Down Ye Murderers

A song about Timothy Evans, a man accused of murdering his wife and child, which he denied until his last breath. They convicted him and hanged him in 1950. He was 25 years old. Three years later the real murderer, his neighbour John Christie, confessed, and the case played a major role in abolishing capital punishment in the UK.

The rope was fixed around his neck, and the washer behind his ear And the prison bell was tolling but Tim Evans did not hear Sayin' go down, you murderer, go down

They sent Tim Evans to the drop for a crime he didn't do It was Christy was the murderer, and the judge and jury too Sayin' go down, you murderers, go down

1956, from Bad Lads and Hard Cases: British Ballads Of Crime And Criminals lyrics & music: Ewan MacColl

7. Jennifer Lawrence - The Hanging Tree

One of the stranger things that can happen at the hanging tree is camaraderie. "On the gallows tree, all men are brothers", to quote A Feast for Crows, and when the state murders, then in defiance, an execution ballad can become a protest song. Many have in real life, this one is fiction, from The Hunger Games. Wisely, the director asked the composer for a simple tune, nothing elaborate, something that could be "sung by one person or by a thousand people".

Are you, are you coming to the tree? Wear a necklace of rope side by side with me Strange things have happened here, no stranger would it be If we met at midnight in the hanging tree

2014, from The Hunger Games: Mockingjay – Part 1 OST lyrics: Suzanne Collins music: James Newton Howard

8. Let's Play Dead - Heaven and Hell

A fairly traditional execution ballad written recently for the series Harlots. Margaret Wells sings it to herself for consolation and courage, as she sits alone in a cell, waiting to get dragged to the gallows.

I'm no more a sinner than any man here I'm no less a saint than the priest at god's ear But now I am snared, they will punish me well With a ladder to heaven and a rope down to hell

2018, from the single Heaven and Hell, for Harlots Season 2 Episode 7 lyrics & music: Let's Play Dead

9. Odetta - Gallows Pole

Probably the most well-known execution ballad of the 20th century, thanks to several iconic renditions. This one remains my favourite.

Hangman, hangman, slack your rope, slack it for a while I think I see my father coming, riding many a mile Papa did you bring me silver, did you bring me gold? Or did you come to see me hanging by the gallows pole?

1960, from At Carnegie Hall lyrics & music: traditional (Child 95 / Roud 144), known under many other titles ("Hangman", "The Maid freed From the Gallows", "The Prickle-Holly Bush"); this version is directly influenced by Lead Belly's "Gallis Pole" (1930s), and they both informed Led Zeppelin's 1970 version

10. Johnny Cash - 25 Minutes to Go

Peak gallows humour, uproariously funny and defiant, and somehow still conveying the terror of a man who's about to die and emphatically doesn't want to. Performed live at Folsom Prison.

Then the sheriff said boy I'm gonna watch you die, 19 minutes to go So I laughed in his face and I spit in his eye, 18 minutes to go Now here comes the preacher for to save my soul, 13 minutes to go And he's talking about burning but I'm so cold, 12 minutes to go

1968, from At Folsom Prison lyrics & music: Shel Silverstein, from his 1962 album Inside Folk Songs

11. Johnny Cash - Sam Hall

A classic execution ballad with many versions (see here for its complicated history), some of which are stoic and dignified, and others humorous. But this one brims with rage. Sam Hall will not be repenting on the gallows, and he'll see you all in hell.

My name it is Sam Hall and I hate you one and all And I hate you one and all, damn your eyes

2002, from American IV: The Man Comes Around lyrics & music: : traditional, 18th century broadside ballad, Roud 369

12. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - Up Jumped the Devil

A song about a man doomed from the start to play the villain’s part, and the origin of this blog’s #swinging from the gallows tree tag.

Who's that hanging from the gallow tree? His eyes are hollow but he looks like me Who's that swinging from the gallow tree? Up jumped the Devil and he took my soul from me

1999, from Tender Prey lyrics: Nick Cave music: Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds

13. NOT ON SPOTIFY: Dead Rat Orchestra - The Black Procession

This ballad imagines a sinister procession of 20 criminals (black tradesmen brought up in hell!), each with their own specialty (it's mostly thieves of some sort), on the way to the gallows. The last and worst of them is the thief-catcher, and if one of them is innocent, they'll all go free. But of course none of them are. It's written in thieves' cant (lyrics and more context here), and the chorus means: "Look well, listen well, see where they are dragged, up to the gallows where they are hanged."

Toure you well; hark you well, see where they are rubb’d, Up to the nubbing cheat where they are nubb’d.

2015, from Tyburnia: A Radical History Of 600 Years Of Public Execution lyrics: from The Triumph of Wit by J. Shirley, 1688 music: Robin Alderton, Daniel Merrill & Nathaniel Robin Mann

14. John Harle & Marc Almond - The Tyburn Tree

And where does the Black Procession lead? To Tyburn, of course. The dark gothic side of Marc Almond.

The Tyburn Tree, I weep for thee, blood in the roots 'Tis not a tree with bark and leaves of spring awakening 'Tis not a tree with blossom and fruit, 'tis not a tree No boughs to bend beneath the unruly breath of winter No memories of woods warmed by spring's sweet touch 'Tis not a tree — take a ride to Tyburn and dance the last jig

2014, from The Tyburn Tree (Dark London) lyrics: Marc Almond music: John Harle

15. CocoRosie - Gallows

Speaking of dark and gothic.

They took him to the gallows, he fought them all the way though And when they asked us how we knew his name We died just before him, our eyes are in the flowers Our hands are in the branches, our voices in the breezes And our screaming is in his screaming

2010, from Grey Oceans lyrics & music: Sierra Rose Casady & Bianca Leilani Casady

16. The Tiger Lillies - Hang Tomorrow

In their Two Penny Opera, the pioneers of dark cabaret reimagine Brecht’s Threepenny Opera, and take all the suaveness out of Mack the Knife. Here they also take all the fight out of him. What's even left? A pathetic empty husk, a bastard (let's not forget that Brecht's MacHeath is no rogue with a heart of gold, he's a horrible man) who can't even be intriguing. How disturbingly pedestrian.

So here I am in jail again, oh god it stinks of piss I've been in here since I was young, so I can reminisce It's looking rather grim this time, it's looking rather bad But if I swing tomorrow in some ways I'll be glad

2001, from Two Penny Opera lyrics & music: Martyn Jacques

17. Tom Hollander - Ballad In Which MacHeath Begs All Mens' Forgiveness

In The Threepenny Opera, Mack the Knife stands on the scaffold and asks for pity. No point being judgmental now, that he's about to die. He morbidly describes how his dead body will end up, and then he lashes out at everyone, cops and criminals (same difference), while still begging them all for forgiveness. Very VERY sarcastically. The ballad's concept is borrowed from François Villon (see below), and this translation is unusually bold (honorific, see here and here for other translations and context).

You crooked cops with your Mercedes, your mobile phones, your trendy jackets, your cuts from drugs and dice and ladies, your Scotland Yard protection rackets.

Let heaven smash your fucking faces, slash you and let the blood run free and break you in a thousand places. I've pardoned you. You pardon me.

1994, from The Threepenny Opera - Donmar Warehouse Original Cast lyrics: Bertolt Brecht 1928, loosely inspired by François Villon's "Ballad of the Hanged" c. 1489, translated by Jeremy Sams 1994 music: Kurt Weill 1928

18. Saga de Ragnar Lodbrock - Ballade des pendus

And here's the OG Ballad of the Hanged, written in the 15th century by the OG poète maudit, François Villon (translation here). It paints an indelible picture of strung up corpses swaying in the wind, decaying, pecked by birds, ravaged by the elements and time. And crucially, it's in the first person. The hanged speak, begging their fellow-humans for pity, and god for forgiveness.

Frères humains, qui après nous vivez, N'ayez les cœurs contre nous endurcis, Car, si pitié de nous pauvres avez, Dieu en aura plus tôt de vous mercis. Vous nous voyez ci attachés, cinq, six: Quant à la chair, que trop avons nourrie, Elle est piéça dévorée et pourrie, Et nous, les os, devenons cendre et poudre. De notre mal personne ne s'en rie; Mais priez Dieu que tous nous veuille absoudre!

recorded 1979, released 1999 in the Saga de Ragnar Lodbrock reissue lyrics: François Villon, c. 1489 music: Saga de Ragnar Lodbrock

19. Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds - The Mercy Seat

Honorary inclusion, a song not about hanging: the mercy seat is the electric chair. But the lyrics are a punch and this is a torrent of a song, a whirlwind, a masterpiece, a 7-minute cynic snarl. So it couldn't possibly get left out of this compilation.

And the mercy seat is awaiting, and I think my head is burning And in a way I'm yearning to be done with all this measuring of proof An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth (a life for a life and a truth for a truth) And anyway I told the truth, and I'm not afraid to die (and I'm afraid I told a lie)

1999, from Tender Prey lyrics & music: Nick Cave

20. Graveyard Train - Ballad For Beelzebub

And after? Welcome to Hell, ladies and gents, and bards. (Bards are rogues, too.) The Graveyard Train play a kind of Southern Gothic (but very southern, they're Australian), and here they entertain the thought of a band that ends up in hell and has to keep playing, without end, for an audience that can't hear. What a bleak prospect.

Well the air on the stage is burning our lungs And we're all going deaf from the beating drums And you can't see a thing for all the blood and the sweat in our eyes

Well we played till we died, and now we're all dead But the Man says we got to get up there again And you can't come down till the brimstone turns to ice

2008, from The Serpent And The Crow lyrics & music: Graveyard Train

21. Samuel Kim feat. Colm R. McGuinness - Hoist the Colours

Yo ho, all together Hoist the colours high Heave ho, thieves and beggars

But we won't end in hell. The only acceptable ending to this compilation is the triumphant version (wait for it) of its beginning: a pirate's end. Traditionally the gibbet, yes, but also the ghost ship that still sails, the ripple that still travels, and the story that still gets told.

Did I stutter the first time?

NEVER SHALL WE DIE

[gublerie]

suburban legends - in depth of a theory that the song is written about matthew gray gubler

this theory was made by me and rafa (@bendthwrules on twitter) cause we’re both delusional and have lots of free time apparently lol please take this lightly this is just to have fun. if you have any thoughts to share or add to our theory dont be shy !

first and foremost, we’ll start with a timeline then dive in to analyze the lyrics! it all starts with taylor’s infamous 4th of july parties, as most of you probably already know, matthew was in one of her parties in 2013, she threw the party at her house in rhode island.

on july 3rd, matthew tweeted that his next stop was new england, later that day, he took a photo with a fan during a flight to connecticut. the rumors that he was at her party started when he posted pictures with face paint and sparklers and people started to notice similarities between his and taylor’s pictures, he later deleted said pictures.

for reference, first are the pictures he posted and the pictures taylor took with other friends on the same occasion.

later on, we got this picture of the of them together, confirming that he was at her party indeed. (i can’t remember who posted this so if you remember please let me know)

his attendance on taylor’s independence party sparked rumors of a possible romance, although they didn’t officially date, it’s common knowledge that they did have a fling (also for the sake of the theory we’ll accept that as true lol).

let’s fast forward to 300 (and almost 65) days later, a new movie premieres at the fantasia international film festival on june of 2014, the movie is suburban gothic. and this was the starting point for me and rafa i mean suburban gothic… suburban legends…

taylor announced her first pop album ever, 1989, on a yahoo worldwide livestream on august 18th, 2014. by the time she announced it, of course, the album was already finished and the tracks it would have were already determined so anything taylor wrote after that, wouldn’t be in the original version of 1989.

our grand theory is that the premier of matthew’s new movie, suburban gothic, made taylor think back on her (very very) brief relationship with him, therefore, inspiring her to write suburban legends, a direct reference to the movie title.

without further ado, let’s get to the lyrics!!

taylor start the song by singing

“You had people who called you on unmarked numbers

In my peripheral vision”

which led us to associating it to mgg’s previous girlfriend and also his co-star in suburban gothic, kat dennings. since they were doing a movie together, they probably were in contact a lot and that’s possibly what taylor was referencing in this verse.

she then goes

“I let it slide like a hose on a slippery plastic summer

All was quickly forgiven”

keep in mind all the 4th of july parties are in the middle of summer, this verse could be a direct reference to that since the very first rumors started with a party in the middle of summer.

“And you kiss me in a way that's gonna screw me up forever”

do i even need to say anything else?

“I had the fantasy that maybe our mismatched star signs would surprise the whole school”

when sharing my thoughts on the lyrics with rafa, i reminded her of what taylor wrote in state of grace “just twin fire signs”, this could be about taylor and the person she’s singing about sharing star signs (of the elements fire) but also about them being twin flames (or at least she thought so). just like she purposefully mentioned matching signs in previous lyrics, i do believe she would mention mismatched signs, mind you that taylor is a sagittarius and matthew is a pisces.

that verse could also be a metaphor about how would people view their relationship, they are from different parts of the industry and didn’t share many mutual friends. “surprising the whole school” could be about how shocked the general public would be about them being together.

“When I ended up back at our class reunion walking in with you

You'd be more than a chapter in my old diaries with the pages ripped out”

here i want to highlight the expression “you’d be” and in the previous verse “i had a fantasy”, when using these expressions, taylor is taking a position of someone imagining something, someone wondering even daydreaming about what things would be like. all the other theories about who this song is about revolve around people who taylor actually had a relationship with like harry styles and it just doesn’t make sense to me why she’d be having a fantasy of how things would be like when she knew how things were. personally, this verses make much more sense when placed in a context of someone who taylor didn’t have a real relationship with, like matthew.

“I know that you still remember”

if we’re starting from the assumption that she wrote the song almost a year later looking back at what happened between them, this verse could be how she is directly talking to him, she is remembering what happened and she knows he still remember as well.

“When you told me we'd get back together”

this could possibly hint to him wanting to get back together with her, wanting to actually evolve into a true relationship.

“I broke my own heart 'cause you were too polite to do it”

although i think there’s something almost sarcastic to this verse (like you were sooo polite you couldn’t even break my heart 🥴), i still do think it makes a connection to the previous verse i mentioned, perhaps he wanted to have a real relationship with her and when she realized it wouldn’t work, she had to break her own heart so she could move on.

and some other verses that just scream matthew gray gubler (iykyk) but i can’t quite put into words like “You were so magnetic it was almost obnoxious” or “We were born to be national treasures”.

well, that was too much ! i think it’s pretty clear that i’m not the most skilled writer (😭) but this was just to share the thoughts that were making me go crazy. huuuuge thanks to rafa cause she was the one to make me stop and think about it also helped me with the writing process and also is big on timeline cause she’s been on both fandoms a long time, ty love 🩷.

please let me know your thoughts on this, love you pookies 🫶

[ireadwithmyears]

even if it’s handcuffed, I’m leaving here with you.

Pairing: Commander Fox/fem Reader

Word count: 4.7K

Tags/warnings, smut (18+: (miners DNI) dumb decisions, they turn out alright, slight exhibitionism (they fuck in the back of 79’s and Fox enjoys the idea of being overheard), oral (F receiving), fingering, light bondage, spanking, but like only one, unprotected P in V sex, dom/sub elements, biting/marking (it’s Fox, what do you expect)

Summary: Fox hasn’t been giving you the attention you’ve been craving. The way in which you go about fixing that is highly questionable, but ultimately, a resounding success.

Note: yes, this was 100% inspired by a specific lyric in I’mgonnagetyoubac by Taylor Swift, referred to in the title. I heard it, went Fox bby c’mere I need to do something with this, and this is the end result, which I hope is enjoyable. Also, do these characters have communication issues that they probably should acknowledge and talk through? Probably. Are we not going to acknowledge any of that here for the sake of✨minimal plot✨ yes.

“This, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, is one of the stupidest ideas you’ve ever had.”

To be fair, your best friend is saying this all while she downs a shot, barely containing her smirk behind the glass. She’s already given her rather enthusiastic consent to this idea that she has just declared is stupid

Because that’s what best friends do. 

Look, you have to agree, the idea sounds completely outlandish and lacks any sound logic whatsoever, not to mention, there’s no guarantee that it’ll even work. But, lounging around a table at a bar on Coruscant’s Clubbing scene, and with your ride or die best friend perched across from you to egg on your delusions, it starts to sound not as crazy as it had initially sounded when you had first spoke the words aloud.

In theory, the idea is straightforward and simple enough. 

Start a fight at the clone bar while Fox is on duty so that you can actually get him alone for more than two minutes.

You’re aware, somewhere in the back of your mind, that these are rather drastic measures for you to take just to get your boyfriend to notice you. But, with your rationalizing, alcohol emboldening you, and your friends immediate agreement to help without hesitation, this idea starts to seem not only reasonable, but solid.

Listen, if you were able to be a normal, sensible couple, and you could just do something like, you know, talk to Fox, you would.

The problem is, though, that Fox has been making that very difficult.

Being the marshal commander of the Coruscant guard carries a lot of weight and responsibilities, you get that. You really, really do. But, when he rarely makes it home most nights because he’s fallen asleep at his desk from overworking himself, and you can count the amount of times he’s touched you over the past two weeks on one hand, you’re starting to go a little bit insane.

Okay, so, you’re horny and so desperate for his attention that you’re willing to do something completely unreasonable, not to mention a little bit illegal, to get it. So what.

*

The plan, for all of its complete lack of sense and sound judgment, goes a little too perfectly.

The guard often sends some of their own out on patrols during 79’s busiest nights to keep order and ensure that there are no inter-battalion style brawls. 

You have Fox’s schedule memorized. So, you wait until you know he’s set to make his rounds, pick a table that is clearly within his eyeline, and then, minutes after he shows up, give your friend the subtle signal.

It starts with raised voices, shouted accusations and glaring until you know you’ve peaked his interest. Even through the tint of his visor, you can practically feel his eyes on you from across the room. 

Once you’re sure his eyes are securely glued on you, you allow high school drama and improv skills to take over, letting the fight escalate into something physical.

It’s hard, knowing that your friend is about to take the brunt of this for you, and your equal parts appreciative, and a little bit terrified, that she’s letting you launch yourself at her. But, you think to console yourself, you had practised this. How to make it look convincing, just good enough that it draws the attention of the cori’s, while also inflicting minimal damage because due to the fact that you don’t want your friend to get in heat for this too, making yourself the clear instigator, she’s only dodging, refusing to hit back.

When the thud of boots and the crackle of voices through helmet speakers come, barking gruff orders to break it up, you’re more than a little relieved. 

Even with his bucket still on, it’s easy for you to identify that it’s him. Him who pulls you off of her, none too gently. Him, whose rough, gloved fingers enclose around your wrists, smoothly pinning them behind your back before you can even blink and fuck, why was that so hot? Him, who, for a brief moment, you feel the cold and unforgiving plastoid of his chest plate digging as he presses flush against you, voice a low, displeased rumble as he addresses you, voice too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“You know, princess,” he mutters darkly, giving your wrists a squeeze. “If you wanted tonight to end with me locking binders around those pretty wrists of yours, there was no need to go to all of this trouble.”

He knew. 

Somehow, he’s figured out exactly what you were doing within seconds and for some reason, this only intensifies the thrill that runs through your body and causes your thighs to clench.

You’re not given time to ruminate on this, though, barely catch the subtle wink that your friend gives you before another member of the guard blocks your view of her as he kneels down to check on her. Fox, reflexes lightning fast, spins you around and immediately begins to usher you towards the back of the establishment, giving the other guard member on duty, you think it might be Thorn, a curt nod to acknowledge that he can handle this on his own.

Your led away to the sounds of low whistles, and many identical sets of brown eyes peering at you interestedly as Fox’s brothers stare at you when you pass by their tables.

Your face, at this point, has the decency to flush with oncoming embarrassment as they watch Fox leading you away.

No time for regrets now, you think to yourself as Fox reaches around you, still keeping your wrists firmly in one hand as he unlocks the door to an out-of-the-way office, frequently used to detain clones who start fights in the bar.

For better or for worse , you have captured his full, undivided attention for the night. 

now, you think, it’s only a matter of what he’s going to do about it.

*

“You know,” he muses, arms expertly caging you in and crowding you against the office wall, “if you’re going to fake a fight to get my attention, you could at least have picked an accomplice who I haven’t already met, and who I am perfectly aware you are on good terms with.”

“How would you know?” You ask, still slightly breathless as his amber eyes catch yours in the dim light, levelling you with a look. “A lot could change in the two weeks that I’ve barely seen you.” 

“Is that what this is about?” He asks, voice low and somehow too smooth and even, tilting his head to the side. “That explains why she made the effort to do this.” 

He doesn’t back down, doesn’t even look away in any semblance of guilt, which is infuriating. You’re about to tell him so when you’re cut off abruptly, words dissolving into nothing but a short gasp as his head lowers, lips, followed by the sharp bite of his teeth along the much too exposed skin of one of your breasts.

You blink, looking down at yourself, startled. It appears that whilst your friend was engaged in skirmishing with you, she had managed to tactfully pull open a few buttons from your shirt, splitting it just so that one of your breasts is tantalizingly exposed, nipple barely covered by the remaining fabric.

It’s fabric that is quickly shoved to the side as Fox, eyes never leaving yours as he does, takes your nipple into his mouth, tongue rolling over the bud, encouraging it to harden between warm lips.

“It’s almost like this was... planned,” he muses, accentuating his words with a sharp pinch as he tweaks your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, smirking at the way you jolt with surprise. His breath ghosts along the column of your throat as he moves to whisper in your ear. “Wasn’t it, cyar’ika.”

You’re prevented from answering when his teeth nip at your earlobe, causing any words you had in your mind to fall away, giving way to a shiver as you arch into him. A thrill runs through your body, and a pleasant hum has replaced the void where your thoughts used to be. If you had the sense to be embarrassed about how easy it was for him to get you like this, you would be. But right now, pushed up against the wall with him looming over you, it takes all you have to reach for him, fingers trying to find perch’s between his armour plating.

“Fox,” you let out a whine, tilting your head up to look at him pleadingly as you press yourself against him.

“Uh uh,” he chides, quickly extricating your hands. “These stay here,” he orders, swiftly pinning your wrists above your head with one hand. “If you know what’s good for you,” he continues darkly.

“A and what if I don’t?” You try to challenge, but your voice comes out in more of a squeak, wobbling slightly, as his fingers trail down your sides, just teasing at the skin beneath your shirt.

He chuckles, the sound a husky, dangerous rumble in his throat. Abruptly, he drops to his knees in front of you, pulling both your skirt and panties down with him in one harsh tug. They pool around your feet on the floor.

“Oh, meshla,” he coos at you, voice dripping with mock sincerity as one gloved fingertip, tantalizingly featherlight, sweeps through your already wet folds, only grazing over your clit enough to make your hips stutter in surprise before he pulls away. 

“Trust me, by the time I’m done with you, you will.”

Your ability to form a quick witted retort to that is greatly impeded, and ultimately foiled, probably intentionally, by Fox lifting one of your legs, manoeuvring it so it drapes over the curve of one of those broad, imposing shoulders of his. 

Before you’re given time to react to this sudden shift of balance, he’s leaning forward, his impatience evident in the way he roughly holds your thighs apart as he does. Your clit is suckled into his mouth with an almost unadulterated greed as it’s pulled between his lips, tongue barely fluttering over it before your hips jolt, and the sound that manages to escape you, half in surprise, half a needy whine before you manage to check yourself, remembering where, exactly, he’s doing this to you, sounds just about as uncontrolled as his actions are.

He pulls back, only to give you a deceptively teasing smirk as he tugs off his gloves. “What’s the matter, cyar?” He almost purrs, a now gloveless finger slowly teasing at your entrance, eyes fixated on how you clench around nothing. “Got nothing to say now?” 

He evidently finds his ability to have you this riled up with only a few touches amusing, because he’s again leaning forward before you can respond. A series of gentle kitten licks targeted at your clit, as his finger slowly presses into your heat has you forgetting about that fact quickly, the only sound escaping your lips being that of a strangled gasp-moan.

With the way his lips quirk and he lets out a small hum of satisfaction, the vibrations of which run through your body like a shockwave that leaves you breathless, it’s evident that this is exactly the way he wants you, squirming and desperate.

“Fox, I, we can’t do this here ohh.”

You lose track of the point you were trying to make with the smallest movement of his finger, almost gentle as it curls inside you, just brushing over your G spot, causing you to start stammering.

“Mm, why’s that, princess?” He asks, pulling out his finger only so that he can insistently begin to open you up with a second. “I don’t really think you’re in the position to be making demands like that, hm?”

Teeth nipping at that sensitive spot high on your inner thigh silences your retort. “So pretty,” he breathes, almost to himself as his tongue lazily soothes over the mark he’s made, before he’s back on your clit, lips, tongue, and fingers that curl and press and thrust all working to bring you up and straight to the edge.

And take you to the edge, he does. Within minutes that feel like seconds, he has you arching your back, pushing your hips to meet the delicious, constant thrust of his fingers and the targeted, precise teasing of his tongue and lips against your already sensitive clit, breathless begging and pleading because you’re just, you need, you’re almost.

There’s an audible clap as you desperately press your hand against your mouth, trying to silence the high-pitched, feverish whimper that’s fighting to escape your lips because there, right there, rightfuckingthereyoujust...

Then he’s pulling away, releasing your clit with an obscene sounding wet pop as he rises to his feet, calm and totally unfazed in the face of your obvious frustrated desperation, hips still vainly moving in an attempt to find something that’s no longer there. He looks down at you, watching with evident amusement in his eyes as you lose the high that he’s given you, languidly taking the time to idly suck on his fingers, still slick with your arousal as he waits.

He’s patient, simply staring down at your quivering form as he holds you within his scrutiny, deliberately drawing out the silence until the tension has grown thick, and it starts to make you feel disquieted, nervous, almost like you’ve done something you shouldn’t have and you’re now waiting for him to pronounce your punishment.

Only then, only once he sees the realization dawn on your face and your eyes widen slightly does he reach out, lightly tracing one finger over the back of your hand.

Your hand that he told you to stay above your head on the wall. 

Your hand that is, right now, still pressed firmly against your half open mouth. 

“I thought I told you,” he muses casually, fingers delicately wrapping around your wrist and pulling it away from your lips, “to keep these where I put them.”

You swallow, but look up at him with a falsely innocent expression because fuck it, you’re already out of the frying pan, might as well just jump headfirst into the fire.

“Well, technically you told me to do that only if I knew what was good for me, so... guess I don’t,” you say with a shrug, flashing him a smirk.

“Hm,” he huffs, pondering as he continues to hold your wrist, giving it a squeeze in warning. “So it appears you don’t.”

Within seconds, he’s smoothly spun you around, and pulled both of your wrists behind your back, with a speed that’s so succinct that you don’t even comprehend what’s happening until the heavy, cold weight of the binders settles against your skin, locking your wrists in place with a smooth, resounding click.

Oh.

A hand on your back gently nudges you forward and without question, you begin to walk, only pausing when he’s directed you to stand in front of a desk, the height of which reaches just above your waist. He urges you down, hand pressing in between your shoulder blades until you’re bent over, skin flush against the cool wood. 

You jump when his voice appears, low and inches away from your ear as he leans over you, hands delicately scheming down your sides as he speaks.

“Oh, meshla, you misunderstand me,” he purrs, and he can’t resist gently nipping at your earlobe just to hear the small noise of surprise that escapes you and feel the way your body shivers beneath him. 

You hear him settle behind you, armoured knees hitting the ground with a dull thump as his hands, warm and rough, ease your thighs apart, holding them wide.

Fingers lazily circle you’re already swollen clit as he continues. “You can cum, pretty girl. In fact, I want you to cum, and I want everyone outside to be able to hear all those pretty sounds you make when you do it.”

Outside, a muffled round of drunken cheering from several of his vode seems to punctuate his demand, causing your heart to quicken, and before you’re given time to really think about it, he’s opening you further, diving back in with his lips and tongue as his hands continue to hold your thighs apart.

For a moment, it’s just hot, heavy breaths, warm air tickling and brushing against your incredibly sensitive clit, the barest sensation and the heat enough to pull a breathless “mmm” from your lips, hips desperately pushing back against his waiting mouth. 

You both know that you’re not going to last long, so Fox takes time to relish each moment he spends in between your thighs, every movement of his tongue and lips deliberate and controlled. The firm muscle of the flat of his tongue pressing against you is neither frantic nor fast, but it urges and demands with an almost maddening precision.  The slightest role of his tongue over the bud as his lips pull you into his mouth nearly does you in, turning small, gasping whimpers into “oh please I fuck I please,” without any regard to the level of your voice.

Fox hums a response, and after that, you’re done, tipped over the edge by just the slightest nudge as if you had been clinging to it by your fingertips, and were now free falling.

You only come back to yourself when you feel fingernails raking up your trembling thighs, and Fox’s low, husky voice as he stares up at you.

“Mm, good,” he murmurs, running a finger through your sensitive folds just to watch you tremor.

He rises to his feet, and you’re not sure what you’re expecting him to do, if anything. Your mind is so addled by your orgasm that it comes completely unanticipated. 

A quick, stinging swat lands against your ass, calloused fingers caressing over the skin as soon as it begins to heat beneath the palm of his hand. It makes you let out of rather undignified, surprised squeak, hands instinctively trying to move to cover yourself, but of course, they’re not going anywhere. The unforgiving metal of the binders cooley nipping at your skin as you strain being a good enough reminder of that. 

“But I think you can do better.”

There’s the familiar sound of his codpiece being unclipped, a small clang as it hits the floor and is kicked away without consequence. Fox lets out a low groan, the only evidence to suggest that he’s nearly as affected as you are as he pulls himself free of his blacks, taking his hard length into his hand.

Your head drops to the desk, which is met with an immediate tsk of disapproval, Fox threading his fingers through your hair as he tugs it back up, pulling just enough to ensure that the tingle is painful, a reprimand as sharp as his words.

“Keep your head up, princess,” he orders sternly. “I want everyone to hear the sounds you make when I fuck you.”

He glides his cock through your wet folds, pausing to tease a few circles around your clit with the head as he continues. “And I want everyone to know how good I make you cum.”

The head of his cock lightly slaps against your clit, punctuating his words and causing the already overly sensitive nerves to spark and tingle. The whine that leaves your parted lips is a needy, pitiful thing.

You hear his low, throaty chuckle as he backs off, nudging the glistening head of his cock between your parted lips, smoothly lining himself up at your entrance. With one drawn out, controlled roll of his hips, he’s sinking into you, hands coming to grasp your hips as your tight, warm heat clenches around him.

Once he’s fully seated himself, feeling your walls fluttering around him, he moves, adjusting his angle in several quick, sharp snaps of his hips as he gages your response. When he finds the angle that has you crying out the loudest, and he’s satisfied that his cock insistently nudges against your G spot with every thrust, he begins to move in earnest.

Fox sets an even, measured pace, pulling back only to thrust back in with more power and intensity behind the insistent movement of his hips, cock pressing against all of those spots that need to be touched, caressed, and stretched for him.

Only when it starts to build inside you, because really, after you’ve already came from the talents of his skilled tongue, it really doesn’t take much to bring you back up, only once you start moaning and writhing beneath him does the rhythm change, not stopping, but slowing considerably as his fingers grasp at your hips, pulling you against him and keeping you still despite your squirming and protests. 

You can feel his armour plates digging against your skin as he moves, the cold, unforgiving plastoid in combination with the hot slick of skin on skin as he firmly presses your hips against him is dizzying, and sends your head spinning with each gentle pulse of his throbbing cock.

He holds you there, keeping your ass pressed flush against his pelvis, only allowing small, controlled ruts of his hips that brush his cock against your walls, his form radiating patience and authority as he looms over you, watching as you mercilessly struggle for him to give you more than what he’s allowing.

Your hips try to push back, to do anything, but without being able to brace your hands, you’re not getting anywhere fast at all, and your struggle to gain any kind of leverage ends with you throwing your head back, letting out a high-pitched, frustrated whine as you look back at your tormentor, who watches with an almost impassive expression, eyes dark.

He sweeps your hair over your shoulder, littering a trail of hot kisses and sharp bites along the exposed column of your throat as he moves to your ear. 

“Got something to say, meshla?” He coos condescendingly, nuzzling his nose against your neck and letting out a warm breath that sends goosebumps down your spine.

Under the full weight of his attention, he manages to scatter the few strings of coherent words that your brain was trying to piece together into something useful. All you can do is moan helplessly, feebly pushing back against him in an attempt to get him to move in vain.

“Hm,” he muses, and you feel the brief scraping of teeth as he runs them along your shoulder. “Guess not. Maybe I’ll just stay here, until you can figure out how to use your pretty mouth to tell me what you want.”

You know what he wants, and it only takes one small, barely there nudge of his hips for it to come spilling out of you, with minimal protest or fight. 

“Please, sir, please,” you beg, both cheeks and eyes burning at how unsteady your voice sounds. “Please fuck me.”

“Ah,” he pretends to come to the understanding and that bastard, you don’t have to look at him to know that there’s a devilish smirk on his face as one of his hands leaves your hips, dipping to run along your inner thigh. 

“Understood,” he says, voice as short and crisp as if he’s just barking an order to one of his troopers. 

With that, he withdraws, unsheathing himself so slowly that every inch of him drags along your walls as he pulls out. Then, without warning, grasping your hip tightly, he slams back into you, pushing against your tightness and pulling you back onto him at the same time. His pace is now brisk, unyielding, and unwaveringly steady as he impales you on his cock, letting out low, breathy sounds, pausing to listen to the mules and moans that leave you in response.

As soon as he starts hitting someplace deep, quick and primal and constant, your back is arching, your ability to form any coherent words seemingly depleted. 

Or at least, that’s what you think, until his hand, that had up until this point been squeezing and massaging the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, moves in between your legs, fingers expertly catching on your clit, circling, pressing, and the occasional tap against the overly sensitive bud that has you gasping and jolting in place.

“Fox,” you whimper desperately, hips wriggling even though there’s nowhere to go. “Please.”

Whether you’re saying please to beg him to stop because you can’t, it’s too much, or you’re saying please because you want, you need him to never stop, to keep going because the attention he’s lavishing on your clit combined with the delicious way he’s filling and stretching you on his cock feels so wonderfully good is unclear.

The decision is quickly taken out of your hands when Fox, evidently seeing how close you are, abruptly adjusts his angle, redirecting his focus yet again to your G spot, hips rolling against you as he targets it with small, precise and shallow thrusts.

“Be a good girl,” he murmurs, hand releasing your hip to rake his fingernails down your spine. “Cum,” he orders, giving your clit another tap before he continues his tantalizing circles. “Cum for me.”

You throw your head back, spine contorting as you arch, only vaguely aware of the desk digging into your ribs as you cum, eyes squeezing shut and walls clamping down on him as some sound that you don’t even begin to hear nor control is ripped from your throat.

Only then does his pace falter and does he pull you back onto him to bury himself to the hilt within you, cold armour plating firmly pressing against your ass and your thighs, as he lets  out a long, low rumble as he stills within you, spilling his release within your warm, convulsing heat. 

You’re aware of your head falling against the desk, finally too exhausted to keep it up as your body trembles with aftershocks. You’re aware of his hand, soothing as it strokes through your hair. You’re aware of him slowly easing himself out, you think you might make a small sound at the loss, judging by his low chuckle, but you’re not sure.

You only really begin to engage with the world again when you feel the rush of liquid leaving your core, causing you to let out a small gasp. 

“Shh, little one, s’okay,” Fox murmurs, gathering the mix of his and your release that glistens on your folds with his fingers, slowly pushing it back inside, causing you to whimper. 

He guides your legs back into your panties and skirt with tender hands, pulling you to your feet and reaching around you to button up your top.

It’s only when he’s about to steer you out of the room that you realize. 

“Fox?” You say with a frown, raising a questioning eyebrow. “Aren’t you gonna, you know, undo the binders?”

He looks at you, hands occupied with snapping his codpiece back into place. 

“No,” he responds shortly. “You still instigated a fight. I at least have to play off the charade that I’m taking you back to HQ.”

He sets his helmet back on his head, and even though you can no longer see his face, you know that there’s amusement in his eyes, because even though this was your plan, he still has the last laugh. 

“This is still a punishment, and considering I’m letting you off the hook in terms of having to pay a fine, it’s a rather generous alternative, don’t you think, Meshla?” He reminds you lowly, voice clear even through his helmet modulator. “Get moving,” he orders, nudging you forward impatiently.

your mouth drops open as the noise from outside slowly filters into your ears.

He’s about to make you walk through the bar.

Your wrist still in binders as he escorts you out.

Past many of his vode.

With his cum still leaking out of you and the fresh bite marks that he scattered across your neck and shoulders like ornaments.

They’ll take one look at you, and even if they hadn’t managed to hear some of what was going on, which, judging by the dryness in your throat, would be a complete miracle of the force, they’ll know exactly what you did with the Marshall commander whom they all serve under and fuck, the burning twinge of humiliation should not effortlessly combine with some sort of excitement, but it does.

Your cheeks flush, and it takes all of your willpower to start shuffling your feet forward. 

Well played, Commander. Well played indeed. 

[trina864]

Teases and Intercourse | J.JK

Summery: Jungkook and you makes a deal, that he gets to do whatever he wants, the next week. Monday he starts out slow. Paring: Jungkook x Brat!Reader Lyric: "Show you what devotion is..." Genre: Fanfiction, Romance | Smut, Fluff Word Count: 4.3K Chapter Guide: Monday Previous / Next Warnings: Female reader. Explicit words. Kissing. Making out. Shirtless Jungkook. Naked reader. f2l. Friends having oral sɛx. Fingering, f!receiving. Oral sɛx, f!receiving, m!receiving. 69. Face riding. Brat!Reader. Dirty talk. Deep throating. Jk kinda shoving readers head over his d!ck. Unprotected intercourse. Reader and Jungkook is not a couple. Taehyung is their friend. Parties at Tae's place. ‣ A/N: Frist one in the series. Seven is the best thing to ever happen, and I mean it. I love it so much, I got so inspired that I had to write. Let's see how this turned out, hope you like it!

Jungkook's and your relationship is hard to put words on. You are not a couple, not friends with benefits, you are simply just Jungkook and Y/N.

Your mutual friends have asked each one of you when it's time to put a title on you, but neither of you can give a pleasing answer.

But there's a good reason to it being like this. A reason which makes it impossible for you to commit to a serious relationship with him. The both of you are really bad at commitment.

Even if you wanted to be in a relationship with him, you fear that you can't stay with only him, and you aren’t one for an open relationship.

You have kissed before, at Taehyung's parties. You have made out in front of all your friends at an dare which Jimin had given you. You flirted wherever you went.

And yet it has never evolved to more than that, not when you both like to keep the cards open.

This is why it surprises you as much as it does when one Sunday morning Jungkook comes knocking at your door.

"Jungkook? What are you doing here?" You ask with a miserable tone. The hungover from last nights party is still evident.

Jungkook walks past you, inviting himself in, and plumps himself down on your baby green couch.

"Well I came to see you." He answer and smile. "How are you after last night?"

"Great." You say with sarcasm overflowing your voice. "No, I'm totally hungover. What about you? You seem fine."

"I am, I held again with the drinks, I know I can't handle them, unlike others." He looks at you with a sly look.

"Yea yea, I know, I can't handle all those drinks, but seriously a girl my age has to enjoy and live life." You defend, you don’t know why you have the need to explain yourself, maybe it's simply because it's Jungkook.

"I know" says Jungkook, "But there's another reason for why I held again yesterday."

"And why is that?" You ask and plump down on the couch in front of Jungkook.

Jungkook hesitates a bit, biting his lips as he usually does. Your eyes stay on his lips longer than you want them to.

"Jungkook, what is it?" You ask again.

"I want to have sex with you." The smirk that is covered on Jungkooks face lets you believe at first that it's a joke, and you reply with a hysterical laughter.

"Ahhh... You're so funny Jungkook." You say as you calm down, but as you look over at Jungkook and see the dead serious expression on his face you shrink in on yourself.

"Wait what, you're for real?" "Of course I'm for real." Jungkook replies looking rather offended. You don't know what to say, your friend, who has been that since your college times is standing in your home and revealing that he wants to have sex with you.

It's not like it's a big shocker for you, you've always known that Jungkook and you has a weird friendship on the edge of being more. And you will never forget how much this boy loves sex. You've never known anyone with as big a dirty mind as Jungkook. But even so it surprises you, where he found the courage to make a stunt like this with you.

Silence follows after, and your thoughts are running wild. Not only are you questioning why he all of a sudden does this, you're also considering his words and imagining if you two really did have sex.

Would it be as good as you've always expected? Or would it just be weird to have sex with a friend?

It's Jungkooks groan that breaks the silence as he throws himself back into the couch.

"Alright let me try again, because this is kinda awkward." He says all flustered and gets up from his seat only to walk over to you.

He towers over you. "I have a proposal for you, Y/N. We know we both want to have sex with each other" You’re about to interrupt him, but he shushes you. "Don't try to lie to me, you clearly don't remember, but you ranted to me yesterday about how good i looked, and that you wanted to have me in your bed, and-" "Okay I got it." You say as you finally understand why he is doing all of this now.

It's your own fault. Your memory opens up for one particular memory that happened last night.

Jungkook has always looked good in black, but his outfit tonight is something else. You walk up to him and he smiles as he sees you. "Y/N! Hey what's up?" Your eyes are focused on his lips and Jungkook notices this right before you get on your tippy toes and pulls him into a heated kiss. He doesn't resists, to be honest he had hoped something like this would happen when Taehyung asked him to come to the party. "Want you Jungkook." Your drunk self whispers in his ear. It makes him shiver and if you weren't this drunk he would've taken you right now.

"What's the proposal?" You sigh and rub over your face. The embarrassment you feel is not invisible to Jungkook and he smirks as he proceeds,

"This next week, I get to do with you whatever I want. You know my kinks and turn ons better than anyone, and I know yours, I wont do anything which I know is uncomfortable to you. After the week we go back to what we are now." He says it like it's so simple, like it makes perfect sense to do something like this.

"So what? You want me to be your play toy for a week?" Jungkook shrugs, "If that's what you want to call it, I would say lover, but hey! That's just the romantic part in me speaking."

There is a look in Jungkooks eyes filled with all the different ideas he has for the week, a dark sinister look.

Your own body starts heating up thinking of all the things Jungkook could do with you. He was right when he said no one knows your kinks better than him, how many times haven't you talked with Jungkook about kinks and turn-ons.

It’s a miracle that you haven’t had sex yet.

Even with your thoughts flying, considering if it would be weird after, or if it would change everything between you and Jungkook, you know there is no other answer than yes.

But you won't give in that easily, the brat in you can't allow that.

"I don't know Jungkook, I'm not sure you could satisfy me." Jungkook catches the sarcasm in your voice, and he feels relieved that you are slowly agreeing to his crazy idea. He wasn't sure you would say yes, and even if he hide it well, the nervousness would not leave his body before now.

His eyes darkens at your comment, they're hypnotic to you whenever they do that. "Oh you don't think so?" He asks walking closer to you and taking your chin in a strong hold.

"No I really don't." You say. "I'll have to show you then."

He squats down in front of you only to take your lips in a heated powerful kiss. You moan into the kiss as his hands explores your thighs and hips, lastly finding their spot on your waist.

Your own hands tangles in his hair, and pushes him forward into you.

As fast as it starts as quickly it ends and Jungkook pulls back.

"Ah ah," He say as if scolding a little baby "The deal starts tomorrow, not today, I asked for a week so that's what I'll get."

You whine, but get an idea.

"Why don't you just stay here then?" You ask and you lean back on the couch.

"Stay here? What?" Jungkook takes his place beside you and swings an arm around you.

"Yeah, the deal starts tomorrow, and tomorrow starts at midnight. You could stay for dinner and movies, and then when midnight hits, we could finally start our deal." You say and hug Jungkooks arm closer to you.

"I don't see any problem with that, I don't have work tomorrow anyways, but what about your work?" He ask. "I work from home tomorrow."

And like that the deal is settled. The whole day you walk with butterflies in your stomach thinking about the deal. You and Jungkook uses most of the day binging series you've already watched and making food.

Taehyung came over shortly to drop off a coat you had forgotten the day before. To say that he was surprised as he saw Jungkook there was an understatement, but he didn't question it knowing that your relationship is impossible to understand.

As dinner is over and everything cleaned you two walk back to your room, talking about all and nothing, about the party, about your common interests.

You’re in the middle of conversing about drawing and which pencils you like to use the most when your alarm goes off and the clock hits midnight.

"You sat an alarm?" Jungkook laughs as you hurry to turn it off.

"Don't tease me! I just wanted to be sure when it was midnight." You say, but still Jungkook jokes about it. "Oh yea, eager much?"

"I'm not eager! I just wanted to be sure." You say and finally turn the alarm off.

"Mhm, and I just wanted to sit and do nothing when I made you that offer." He jokes a smug look on his face as he moves himself closer to you.

The air around you suddenly changes, there is no more laughter or sarcasm, instead the room fills with sexual desire.

Jungkook now moves very close to you. His tatted hand comes up to get a strand of hair out of your face.

His hand rests where your neck and jaw meets, and you feel yourself slowly turn into a puddle at the anticipation. "You and I would be the perfect couple y'know?" He says. "How so?" You ask with a hitched breath.

Jungkook pushes you softly back into the bed and slowly crawls up over your body. There he stays as he starts explaining himself.

"We both have the same interests, and we're similar in the way we joke around, yet we're not too much alike to bore each other. And of course there's the sexual aspect of it all." He say, smirking as his eyes scans over your face.

Jungkook moves down to kiss you which you happily agrees to, the kiss is not heated in the same way it had been earlier the day, it’s softer, slower.

"We're also both not into commitment." You say between kisses, "It would never work."

Jungkook smiles into the kiss, "Let's see about that."

None of you say anything after that, nothing is left to say. All that is left is the pleasure, the kisses, Jungkooks hands wandering all over you.

There is an eagerness over Jungkook which you can connect to the many times Jungkook has moved a little too close, a little too friendly compared to other friends.

This is his time to feel you, and you him.

He thrust down into you, soft and experimental. He tries again only to figure you out, how your body reacts, where you're most sensitive, all those things he still needs to learn about you. Third time he does it he hits something good enough to make you moan into his mouth.

He smiles succeeding into the kisses which are becoming rougher for every minute, and he thrusts again.

His hands wrap around your thighs, pulls you down aggressively and proceeds to wrap them around his own waist, all while the thrusts keeps going.

You whine as he breaks off the kisses and stops his movements down at your crotch. He looks at you with a smirk that you don’t like, and he says “We're gonna start out slow. No dick tonight."

You who can’t think straight makes a big fuss out of it. How can he rob you from that? How can he make you so flustered and then not give his cock to you?

"Ah, ah. No complaints." Jungkook says as his hand massage your thigh.

"But how am I gonna be satisfied if I can't get your dick tonight?" You sigh. Jungkook looks at you with a raised brow and a playful smile.

"I can make you scream for me to stop without using my dick. And that's a promise." You scuff.

You know he's right, but the brat in you will never admit to that.

"You don't believe me?" He ask. His eyes are filled with desire, his hand on your thigh goes lower and rougher.

"No, I don't" You say, and even though Jungkook can see right through you he jumps into the play.

"Well then I gotta prove it. Shirt and pants of, now." He commands as he lifts himself up from you. He watches with eyes that could be devastated as you lift your shirt off and button your pants down you are left in only underwear.

Jungkook attaches himself to your neck, kissing and sucking, the sounds he can make on your neck are sinful.

He helps you with the rest of your clothes, unclasping your bra, and pulling down your panties.

Only when you lay totally naked in front of him does he come of your neck to take a good look at you.

You're like a goddess to him, your body shines in front of him as if the sun is radiating off of you. The curves of your body and the rise of your chests are all like sweet pleasures in his eyes. Even though Jungkook had often wondered what you looked like this is nothing to compare to his imagines.

You shy in front of him, but he makes it his mission to make you comfortable when he crawls over your body and places himself between your legs, his hand goes through every curve and every dip, feeling them all up, feeling you up.

“You look so fucking alluring like this Y/N.” His lips trace the shell of your ear. Shivers goes down your spine, with how Jungkook makes you feel.

Your hands wander down to where his shirt tucks into his pants and you yank at the material nearly ripping it. He helps you slide the shirt off his body. As the shirt is off you nearly drool with red lustful eyes.

How was he this sexy, you knew Jungkook was trained and buff, but holy god, he's not just buff, it's the way his waist is formed, his shoulders broad and one covered in tattoos.

It's everything about him.

He uses the time of your admiration to slowly creep his hands up your thighs, and as he reach his desired destination he attacks it with skilled hands. Your mouth forms into an 'o' and your head falls back.

His long slim finger is circling around your clit, slow and easy, but the friction is enough to make you yelp into the arm you had thrown over your head. He lowers himself down to where his hands are, and you can only lay and feel as his breath fans over your throbbing pussy.

You were wet long before your clothes were off, but this only doubles the arousal and that is evident in the sounds it makes as his middle finger opens your folds and makes a long stripe down.

"Goddess, you're soaking, tell me it's all for me." He says and you shutter at the nickname. "Ah-! It's all for you Jungkook..." You manage to moan out and as you do his finger finally enters you.

The intrusion of his finger is unforgiving, and just a few pumps in and out later he adds another finger. He looks up at you while doing so and to say that you’re a hot mess is an understatement.

You’re grunting and begging, and the fact that you’re so fucked out only gives Jungkook more confidence as he curls his fingers inside you and hits your g-spot.

Why you are so obsessed already is a mystery, maybe it’s because you’re sex deprived, it had been months since your last hook up, or maybe it’s just because Jungkook is that good. To be fair you and Jungkook had build a sexual attention for years, now the bomb exploded.

You make eye contact with him. His eyes as lustful as your own. You can't think of anything else than the pleasure happening between your legs which only makes you messier in every movement you make.

Your hips curve against Jungkooks fingers and he adds a third finger. The stretch is perfect and you feel your orgasm move closer. "God! Jung- Jungkook please!" You yelp out and your hands yanks in the bed sheets. Jungkook smirks and the pace quickens as he feels your walls clench around his fingers. "What? You gonna cum?" He asks and blows onto your clit. "Mhm!" You whine out, you're not able to make any words in this moment.

"Need some help?" He asks and before you can even understand what he means his tongue attacks your clit. He laps at your clit swallowing all of your ambrosial juices, he moans when your hand intertwines with his hair and the friction makes your stomach clench.

As his teeth comes out to nip at your clit the water finally overflows and your body goes into overdrive, humping into his fingers and your legs practically locks around his head. Jungkook slurps all of your sweet arousal, every last drop he can get to and you have to peel him off you as it gets too much.

But as he looks up at you with an unsatisfied look, you know that he isn't done yet.

His hands grab onto your thighs hard, he turns you both around so he's lying on his back right under your cunt, and you're sitting on top of him.

"No Jungkook, it's too much." You say and sit lower on his stomach. "So you want me to stop?" Normally Jungkook would've backed away the minute you told him too, but he had made a promise, and he intended to keep it.

You remembered back to his words not too long ago, 'I can make you scream for me to stop and that's a promise.' and you know you can't stop now. You won't let him win this easily.

A daring expression covers your face and Jungkook doesn't hide his smirk. If there was one thing he had dreamed about doing with you it was face riding.

He wraps his hands around your thighs that are resting on either side of his head. The view of your cunt dripping with your previous arousal makes his dick grow in his pants and he knows he'll have to take care of it later.

It's Jungkook who yanks you down onto his face and before you can ask if he's okay, he's licking a big stripe over your entrance. You fall slightly back, your hands rests on his thighs and you lean on them to give Jungkook better access.

He takes his time licking and slurping, taking it slower this time than the first. You can already feel the overstimulation, your body is begging you to pull back, but you push it back and slowly a new pleasure overtakes.

"Fuck.. You taste like candy, I won't ever get tired of this." Jungkook mumbles into your cunt and you push down just a little with a smirk. "You like it that much, huh?" It's the first time Jungkook hears your voice normal after your high, and something in him gets turned on at your dirty talk.

Jungkooks dick grows enough to graze your arm on his thigh. You look back to see the bulge in his sweats, it's big and needy and you just have to turn your focus to it.

He chases your pussy as you get up. "What the fuck are you doing, get back onto my face." He says. You laugh at his comment, but also feel your walls clench. "Are you really this needy for my pussy?" You ask.

Before he can answer you turn around over his face, shifting spots between your right thigh and left thigh, and before he realizes what you're doing, you are again on top of his face.

He doesn't question the new position, he's too hungry for your honey like juices and his tongue does not take anything slow this time. His tongue goes in and out of you and his hands presses you further down to reach deeper into you. Every movement of yours halt at the familiar feeling of loosing every independent thought, you're lightheaded from the speed of Jungkooks tongue.

There is one thought that stays in your mind though, and you like a starved dog, rips Jungkooks sweats down and knead at his boxers where you feel his bulge.

He didn't expect it, he hadn't seen it coming when you turned around just moments before, but oh! He is not complaining. His eyes roll back and he thrust up into your hands. His tongue quickens the pace even more and he grunts as your pace too quickens.

This was not supposed to happen, you should have told him to stop by now, but he's so glad you didn't. This is better than anything he had planned for this night, and when you pull his boxers down and put his cock in your mouth Jungkook totally malfunctions.

Moaning and grunting into your pussy, mumbling something with "Ah- Fuck!", his tongue halts a bit, but never stops, and he actually can't believe that he are doing 69 with you right now. You can't either, but then again there is no thoughts going through your brain other than the pleasure.

You bob your head up and down as good and as precise as you can in this moment, but how good that is you have no idea. It's only cause of Jungkooks grunts and pleases that you think it's going well for you. But it's not enough for you, your head screams for you to take his cock deeper, so you do.

You deep throat him, pushing yourself onto him, and Jungkook looses it completely. His tongue stops the assaults at your pussy and instead he uses his energy to fuck into your mouth. "Oh Shit! Y/N, ye- yea like that." His hands come on top of your head and he pushes just slightly. Gagging around his cock, tears swell in your eyes, Jungkook would've stopped if it wasn't because he knows you like it.

You've always told him you like to be manhandled, to be pushed a bit further than others limits, and this is what you meant.

"Fuuuck, You take it so well, fuck yea! So good for me." He says and a drop of your arousal falls onto his mouth reminding him of what he had been doing before you so sneakily started sucking him off.

It's when Jungkooks tongue picks up where it left with the same pace that you falter. You hump onto his face while he fucks into yours. It's a cycle of pleasure going over you two, and it's just a matter of fact who cum first.

You're not in doubt that it is going to be you. You're already clenching and humping like a mad woman, and Jungkook has in some way regained his mind.

As Jungkooks fingers finds your clit your orgasm finally explodes. Jungkooks dick pops out of your mouth and slaps against your cheek as you fall forwards against his stomach. "Fuck! Jungkook, I'm cumming!" You yell and press yourself as deep onto him as you can. When your high is over Jungkook again insists on you staying, and he holds you over his face as his tongue keeps assaulting your pussy. You know it's still because of the promise, but you are too proud and too stubborn to give in, so instead you find another way to stop him.

Your head once again bobs up and down over his cock. You wrap your tongue around the head of his dick and lick up the precum. Your lips feels pillow soft against his dick, and as you had hoped Jungkook stops the lick at your pussy and instead chases his own high.

His cock twitch inside your mouth and you know it's a question of seconds. Your hands find his balls, you squeeze them softly and lick up the vein on his cock. And just like you Jungkooks orgasm starts. "Fuuuu- uuck." He moans and hammer into your mouth.

His cum coats the back of your throat, your tongue, the inside of your cheeks. It's salty, and sweet and you agree with yourself that you love the combo. As he finishes and finally collapse on the bed, you turn around and lay on top of him.

He is covered in your cum, but he doesn't seem to mind as he smiles up at you and moves a piece of hair from your face.

Jungkook watches as you open your mouth, his cum is everywhere. He gets surprised though when you close your mouth again and swallow with the dirty sound of a loud gulp.

An arm covers his face as he can't hide his smile. You are so good at making him shy.

"That was the best head I've ever had." Jungkook says as he finds the courage to look at you again.

You smile at the compliment. "Thank you, you weren't so bad yourself."

It's so weird to you that you're not feeling weird about what just happened. It's quite peaceful, and there's no awkwardness as there should be when two friends have sex. The only thing that does confuse you is what you and Jungkook are.

You're still not best friends, you're not a couple, you're not just a hook up or friends with benefits, so what the hell are you?

Right now it doesn't matter. Not when you lay beside Jungkook with his arms around you and feel this good. Maybe it'll matter tomorrow morning when you wake up beside Jungkook, but not now.

[ellabsweet]

[ੈ✩] 𝐅𝐄𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐎𝐋𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒 • 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐁𝐒

synopsis: in which The Deadbeats band is a success, ellie as lead singer and guitarist, abby as a bassist, jesse on the drums and dina on the keyboard, despite their chaotic nature and eventual love affair with a certain groupie

pairing: rockstar!ellie x reader x rockstar!abby

warning: mentions of drug and alcohol abuse, very lightly based on the dynamics of daisy jones and the six, eventual nsfw content so minors and men do not interact, multiple part series

authors note: so im starting this little thing with a groupie!reader and very chaotic dynamic band au with rockstars!abby and ellie fighting for her affection, if you want to be tagged just let me know and i will add you to a taglist! enjoy babies

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄: 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒

“Dina Woodward had a saying of her own lightly adapted from some childhood friend’s hip grandmother that went along the lines of: You either fuck it, or hop off the top. That was the mindset that led a group of young adults from a small town in Wyoming to ultimate stardom in rock circles all across the globe-” Ellie made sure to interrupt Jesse’s reading, clutching the newspaper off his hands and forcing it apart in even shreds.

“They made us sound like a fucking inspirational movie”

“I told you that’s what happens when you accept to be interviewed by these mainstream fascists Abby’s daddy can buy out”

“Well, Ellie, here’s a little tip then how about you stop snorting up all our gig cash and actually write some new fucking songs so we don’t have to depend on these interviews that are buying the fucking powder you can’t keep from shoving up your nose” Abby was angry as per usual, landing a soft blow over the table Ellie leaned over, scattering sprinkles of the white drug across the floor. Jesse prepared himself to get between them quickly, his own set of muscles basically newly acquired for these situations, a fiery Ellie and overtly stronger Abby was entertaining the first couple of times when bruised eyes could be hot accessories, but it’s frequency died down the style quickly.

“Fuck you and your moral superiority you only joined the band because you wanted to piss off your fancy rich parents and we only let you because we needed the investment”

“Els, shut the fuck up you know that she’s a good bassist” Dina sighed, looking around for the vacuum cleaner to avoid questions from her tennants later.

“And a better singer too” Abby smirked, her laugh echoing across the room as Ellie leaned in to punch her and was stopped by Jesse’s grip that she remained fighting incessantly.

She thought of Joel, her step father, wondered for a split second what he’d think of her in this situation and quickly shook the thought of her mind. It was irrelevant what Joel would’ve thought, because he was dead alongside anyone else she ever loved, like a plague. Cursed was the title track of their album and it explored the feeling of grief and anger better than anyone could’ve forced out of her in conversation. The other members went as far as thinking perhaps it meant something different, a change within. It never came. Ellie remained the same hot headed impulsive lyrical genius whose talent was wasted on her for always being too overly wasted herself.

“Can we please just get back to practice?” Jesse pleaded, his surprising patience wearing thin.

It didn’t matter, in the end. They were Ellie’s band. Abby was a bass goddess. Music saved Jesse’s life. Dina secretly thought it all to be amusing. They were incredible together, despite the drugs and screams and punches, breathtaking. The band would live on and so would the chaos. You either fuck it, or hop off the top.

taglist: @abbysvictim @lottiematthewsceo @sadeyedsugar @digit4lslut @r0ckgoblin comment to be added!

[zumicho]

MOUSETRAP! ← IWAIZUMI / AKAASHI SMAU EP18: THE LAST STRETCH ･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄WRITTEN⠂⋆

cw: language, mention of sex

｡･ﾟﾟ･ WRITTEN PORTION BELOW ✧･ﾟ: *

— [ slight timeskip ]

approaching the podium, you spot your roommates waiting in the front row, having walked before you—faces lit up with pride. the dean hands you your degree, and you grasp it, feeling its weight, curtly waving at the camera before running off the stage to your friends.

“WE DID IT BITCH!!!!” tanaka’s hollering as bokuto envelops you in a firm hug, kiyoko’s makeup is streaming down her face, noya’s doing cartwheels. they hand you a yearbook; you laugh at the memory—running your thumb over the same area and feeling.. a lump? as you peel back the edge, there’s a light tap to your shoulder. intervened, you turn around.

“h— iwa?” that’s a face you haven’t seen in a bit.

his focus is on his shoes, clearly nervous. his hands disappear into the pockets of his slacks. “hi.” he’s says, stiff. the best part of graduation is the suits, you thirst. whore.

“it’s nice to see y—“

“I was really pissed. not to mention how much I liked you. but that’s no excuse for not giving you a chance to explain. so I’m sorry.” he finally makes eye contact. “also for interrupting you just now.”

“I’m sorry too.” you smile.

he mirrors your expression. “don’t call me iwa ever again.”

“okay.” you elbow him.

he feigns hurt, wincing dramatically. “welcome back, champ.”

“it’s nice to be back.”

from afar, akaashi watches your exchange. he’s known her for less than a year but looks at her like it’s been a lifetime - he thinks to himself. he’s completely and utterly oblivious that he looks at you the exact same way.

haji side-hugs you a goodbye, and keiji walks up to you. in a suit. yummy. “I must've been in the injury zone last time we argued, because you left me breathless." you cringe.

“is that supposed to be a pickup line? a med student pickup line?” you gape at him in disbelief.

he just smirks, the kind that makes you wanna rip it off his pretty face. “you’re like a sports injury: challenging at first, but with the right approach, I know we can heal together."

“quit it.” you kick his ankle playfully. “what’s your point?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you. I just need directions and a chaperone to the nearest cat cafe, is all.”

entertaining him this time, you quip: “what makes you think I’m the right person to ask?”

“it was worth a try.” he shrugs. “you read my letter yet?” akaashi taps the corner of the yearbook clutched to your chest with his pointer finger. peeling back the paper, you find a sticky note folded up diagonally - the same color as the one he left on the table. he holds the book for you as you unstick it open.

we never had sex.

you kissed me and I let you. that’s it.

maybe YOU’RE just ignorant and insensitive,

ms. graduate (woo congrats).

— insufferable

author’s note: 😭 second 😭 to 😭 last 😭 ep 😭

TAGLIST — REPLY/ASK!

@needtoloveoutloud @rory-cakes @minaluvu @tenjikusstuff4 @cherrypieyourface @strawberrygloom1 @bows4life @dreamsofnaughtiness @suitstars @vivianne666 @this-is-me-lolol @kettlepop @giocriedpower @literaleftist @yuminako @kagtobis @wolffmaiden @gsyche @fllavviiaa @guitarstringed-scars @hibernatinghamster @ryuverse @muyyie @gra-eae @phoenix-eclipses @cnnmairoll @neuviloved @reneny @elliott0o0 @girlkissersco @aliensstolemyheart

bolded didn’t tag

😭 lyrics 😭 that 😭 inspired 😭 the 😭 title 😭 we’re 😭 nearing 😭 the 😭 end 😭

most of the music i recommended is nothing i listen to on the regular .. with some exceptions, but UGH IS THIS SONG PERF FOR THEM

[deans-queen]

𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐁𝐨𝐰

Pairing: Dean x Y/N (Female Reader)

Summary: Y/N finds Dean cheating on her with Lisa.

Warnings: angst, light smut (nothing too crazy), mentions of cheating, language. (Let me know if I miss any)

Pre-AN: This fills the "I thought it'd be hell, but I was wrong. It was way worse." square for @jacklesversebingo. This fic is also inspired by the song "Take a Bow" by Rhianna -> hence the title. (Bold/italic text -> song lyrics)

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐏𝐎𝐕

I never thought my heart could break—especially not because of the one person I believed would never hurt me… Dean Winchester.

I stood there, frozen in the doorway of the motel room, my heart pounding like a sledgehammer. The sight in front of me was like a bad dream—Dean, half-dressed, his hands tangled in Lisa’s hair as she giggled against his lips.

It took a moment for them to notice me. When they did, Lisa scrambled to grab her shirt, and Dean’s face fell. “Y/N, wait—”

“Don’t,” I snapped, holding up a trembling hand. My voice cracked, but I refused to cry in front of them. “Don’t you fucking dare, Dean!!”

“And don’t tell me you’re sorry,” I spat, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. “Cause you’re not.”

“Y/N, it’s not what it looks like—”

I laughed, the sound bitter and broken. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, it looks exactly like what it is. A show. A goddamn performance. Bravo, Dean. Go on and take your FUCKING bow!”

Lisa mumbled something about leaving, but I didn’t even look at her as she slipped out the door. My focus was entirely on Dean—the man who’d claimed to love me, who’d made me believe I was his everything.

“Y/N, that’s not fair.”

“Fair?” I stepped closer, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You want to talk about fair? I gave you everything, Dean. I stood by you through all the crap with Sam, the apocalypse, the Mark of Cain. Hell, I even put up with your obsession with pie. And this is what I get?”

He didn’t have an answer. His jaw clenched, and for once, Dean Winchester—the man with a smartass comment for everything—was silent.

I turned on my heel and walked out, slamming the door behind me.

The days after I walked out of that motel room felt like crawling through shards of glass. I told myself I was better off without him, that I deserved more than what he gave me. But no matter how many times I repeated it, the ache in my chest didn’t fade. It was like carrying a wound that refused to heal.

Every time my phone buzzed, my heart betrayed me, leaping with hope, only to crash when I saw the screen. Dean called constantly at first—voicemails, texts, all pleading for a chance to explain.

“Y/N, please. I screwed up. Just… talk to me. Let me fix this.”

But I couldn’t bear to hear his voice, not when it haunted me even in silence.

Nights were the worst. I’d lie awake in the dark, staring at the ceiling, his words playing over and over in my head. That stupid, broken look on his face when I caught him. The way his voice cracked as he tried to justify the unjustifiable.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry, ‘cause you’re not…

Baby when I know you’re only sorry you got caught

But you put on quite a show, really had me going…

Now it’s time to go, curtains finally closing

I tried to hate him, to convince myself he was just like every other man who’d let me down. But that was the problem—Dean wasn’t like anyone else. He was everything. The way he’d look at me, like I was the only thing that mattered in his world. The way he’d pull me close after a hunt, his lips on my forehead, whispering that he’d always keep me safe. And yet, he was the one who’d broken me.

I couldn’t escape the memories, no matter how hard I tried. Every corner of my life was touched by him. The leather jacket he’d left draped over the back of my chair. The stupid pie recipe he’d convinced me to try, still pinned to my fridge. Even my car smelled faintly of his cologne, like it was mocking me every time I climbed in.

My best friend tried to help. She dragged me out for drinks, told me I deserved better, cursed Dean’s name with a venom that should’ve made me feel better.

But it didn’t. Because deep down, I knew she was wrong. Dean wasn’t a bad man. He was a broken one. And maybe that’s why it hurt so much—because he’d been broken long before me, and I’d foolishly thought I could be the one to fix him.

Weeks passed, and the silence between us stretched, but the ache never faded. I avoided places I thought he might show up, though part of me secretly hoped he would. Maybe he’d come to the diner where I worked, storming through the door with that determined look in his eyes, telling me he wasn’t giving up.

But he didn’t.

So I told myself I was moving on. I focused on work, threw myself into tasks, and pretended I didn’t notice the empty space beside me where Dean used to be.

But late at night, when the world was quiet and there was no one to distract me, I’d feel it—the crushing weight of losing him. Not just the man who’d kissed me like I was the air he needed to breathe, but the partner who’d fought beside me, the friend who’d laughed with me, the lover who’d held me when the nightmares came.

Loving Dean had been both the best and worst decision of my life. Because even though he’d broken me, even though I knew I deserved better, I couldn’t stop loving him. And that was the cruelest part of all.

The next day there was a knock on my door. It was soft but insistent, cutting through the quiet hum of rain outside. I didn’t need to look through the peephole to know who it was. I’d felt his presence long before I opened the door.

When I finally turned the handle, there he was—Dean Winchester, soaking wet, his rain-drenched hair falling over his forehead, and his leather jacket clinging to his broad shoulders. His eyes locked on mine, a storm of emotions swirling in that familiar green.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice rough like gravel, his breath coming in shallow pants as if he’d run here.

“Dean,” I whispered, my voice barely audible. I didn’t want him here, not after everything he’d done. And yet, the sight of him—so broken, so desperate—tugged at something deep in me.

“Don’t shut me out,” he pleaded, stepping forward, but not too close, like he was afraid I’d slam the door in his face. “I know I don’t deserve you. Hell, I don’t deserve even a second of your time after what I did. But I couldn’t stay away anymore.”

I crossed my arms, trying to shield myself from the wave of emotions crashing over me. “You’ve got some nerve showing up here.”

“I know,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I can’t do this, Y/N. I thought I could live without you, thought I could figure out a way to move on, but I was wrong. God, I was so wrong.” He raked a hand through his hair, his frustration bleeding into his words. “I thought it would be hell without you, but I was wrong. It was worse—so much worse.”

His words hit me like a punch to the chest, and I had to grip the doorframe to steady myself. “You think a pretty speech is going to fix this?” I asked, my voice trembling. “You broke me, Dean. You destroyed me. Do you even understand what you did to me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper as he stepped closer. His green eyes burned into mine, raw and vulnerable. “I wake up every day and hate myself for it. For letting you walk out, for betraying you. For being the kind of guy you could never trust again.”

I wanted to yell at him, to shove him away, but the look on his face—like he was unraveling right in front of me—made my anger falter.

“I didn’t come here to ask you to forgive me,” he continued, his voice shaking. “I came here because I can’t breathe without you, Y/N. I don’t know how to exist in a world where you’re not mine.”

“Dean,” I started, my voice wavering, but he cut me off.

“I love you,” he said, stepping closer, his hand hovering near my cheek but not quite touching. “And I know I don’t deserve to say it after what I did, but it’s the truth. I love you so damn much it’s killing me.”

His words unraveled the fragile walls I’d built around my heart. A sob escaped my throat, and before I could stop myself, I whispered, “I hate that I still love you.”

Dean exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for weeks. He closed the small gap between us, his hands finally cradling my face with a gentleness that brought fresh tears to my eyes.

“I’ll spend the rest of my life proving I’m worthy of you,” he murmured, his forehead resting against mine. “Just… please, Y/N. Let me try.”

Before I could respond, his lips found mine. The kiss wasn’t rushed or desperate—it was soft, searching, like he was asking for permission with every brush of his lips. His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer, and I let myself melt into him, my arms wrapping around his neck.

“I’ve missed this,” he whispered against my lips, his breath warm and tinged with desperation. “Missed the way you taste, the way you feel in my arms.”

“Dean,” I breathed, tilting my head back as his lips trailed down my jaw and neck. My body betrayed me, leaning into his touch, craving him despite everything.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice low and possessive. “You’ve always been mine, Y/N. And I’ll never let you go again.”

I pulled back slightly, my hands on his chest. “You broke me once, Dean. If you do it again, I swear I won’t make it so easy for you…”

“I won’t,” he interrupted, his eyes fierce as he cupped my face. “I swear on everything, Y/N. There’s no one else. There never was. It was always you.”

The raw honesty in his voice shattered the last of my defenses. I kissed him again, harder this time, pouring all my pain, anger, and love into it. He groaned into my mouth, his hands tangling in my hair as he deepened the kiss.

For the first time in weeks, I felt whole. Dean might have broken me, but he was the only one who could put me back together. And as I let him pull me into his arms, I realized I wasn’t ready to give up on us—not yet.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞🤍

Ya’ll writing this one broke me 😭 but that’s the part of this challenge is to write out of my comfort zone. I’m always getting inspired by songs. Also I don’t picture Dean as someone who would EVER cheat but for the sake of this story I made him this way — don’t crucify me 🫣

ANYWAYS! I hope you enjoyed this one — I love you all!

Feel free to let me know what you think! I always love reading feedback!

Like & follow for more !! Xoxo

Want to read more? Check out my other stories!

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𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

@kr804573 / @deanscherrypie420 / @reignsboy19 / @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx / @riah1606 / @deanwinchestersgirl8734 / @thoughtfullyfurryangel / @10ava01 / @jackles010378 / @winchesterwild78 / @ladysparkles78 / @whimsyfinny / @deansimpalababy / @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing

If you would like to be added on my Taglist for stories please send me a message or comment on this post

[pinkpastels113]

I offer the challenge: write a short in a fandom of your choosing inspired ny the title or lyrics of either When the Party's Over by Billie Eillish or All American Queen by Ben Platt.

Don't you know I'm no good for you? I've learned to lose you, can't afford to

The reason why Vi walked out of there so quickly, with rain pattering onto her hair and dripping down her shoulders and soaking into her clothes, was because she knows that she's no good for Caitlyn. Caitlyn, and her big, fancy, shiny, house, that Vi has no place to be in, no matter how gentle Caitlyn had caressed her cheek and attentively listened to her childhood story of bonding with her sister.

"What about us?" Cait had asked, with that wide vulnerable look in her eyes that Vi had grown to be fond of. It hurts to turn her down like that, to disappoint that trust and hope that Cait had for some wild unfathomable reason placed upon Vi; but it's better to do it like this, Vi thinks, to be the one to cut it off before things get out of hand (as it always does for people around her), inevitably ending up with Vi losing someone else that she had grown close to.

"Wasn't meant to be. Oil and water." And it was true, too, because Cait is from Piltover and Vi... from the opposite of that. So that is why she left, before Cait had a chance to properly register what exactly happened and catch up to her, because there is a part of her who is (pretty) sure that if Cait did she would fell to her knees and beg her to take her back.

Vi can't afford to lose another.

*****

Tore my shirt to stop you bleedin' But nothin' ever stops you leavin'

Caitlyn is bandaging up Vi's injuries again.

She's scared, to fall for her. Well, even more so, since she's pretty sure that she has already dipped her entire foot in that deep and terrifying ocean of feelings. It's just that... Vi keeps leaving, and Cait couldn't afford to lose someone else that she loves, leaving another empty hole in her chest.

One was enough. One is enough; please, it has to be.

(Her father is slipping through her fingers, too, fast and unavoidable like quicksand.)

She bites her lip, applying the healing ointment after tenderly cleaning up the blood on Vi's knuckles.

"I hate it when you hurt yourself like this."

Vi's huffs a laugh, a leg bent at the knee as she leans against the wall. "Kind of unavoidable when you get into a fight, Cupcake."

"Well, don't get into fights unnecessarily, then."

She tears off a part of her blouse (it was too frilly, anyway) to tie it around Vi's hand. It'll have to do until they return to Caitlyn's place. She's used the bandages that were available on Vi's abdomen and arms. Hefting a resigned sigh, she carefully brushes a finger across the newly covered knuckles.

"But they were saying shitty things about you, Cait. I had to beat them up."

Don't you know too much already? I'll only hurt you if you let me Call me friend but keep me closer (call me back) And I'll call you when the party's over

[antiquitea]

𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫.

pairing: john "bucky" egan x gale "buck" cleven

summary: while resting during the march from the stalag to the train, gale helps john sleep. after the war, john returns the favour.

warnings: mature, minors do not interact! semi-public sex, hand jobs, frottage, ptsd, and the horrors of war.

word count: 3.7k

author's notes: i am cross eyed from banging this out over the course of a couple of hours save for a couple of paragraphs. i didn't think i could do this anymore. apparently i just need sunshine and the largest iced coffee that i can stomach before barfing to fuel me.

many thanks to @swifty-fox for yelling at me in all caps while i wrote this. shout out to laura marling's "night terror" for being a loose inspiration and letting me steal both the title and a lyric even if she doesn't know i did that.

» read on ao3

February 1945

Gale couldn’t sleep.

Both in the sense that he agreed to stay awake, and even if he could have slept, he wasn’t sure that he would have been able to. They’d found an abandoned farm house to take shelter in for the night between leaving the stalag and heading to wherever their next destination was, and while it assisted in keeping the snow out, it did nothing to protect himself and the rest of the men from the bitter cold.

John had, in a moment of brilliance, grabbed a blanket before they left, and the two men made good use of it, as threadbare as it was. The two men huddled together beneath it, using each other for warmth more so than the blanket itself. Dire as their circumstances were, they were both silently and secretly grateful for the excuse to get closer together out in the open; they were not the only two cuddling for warmth. “Weather purposes” as John had put it.

“I can’t sleep,” John grumbled into Gale’s chest.

Gale’s jaw clicked, his eyes fixed on the German soldier who stepped over bodies in various states of slumber and wakefulness as he made his rounds. “Try, John,” he murmured quietly, chin resting on top of his friend’s head. “It’ll be my turn soon and I don’t want to hear your bellyaching.”

John snorted, and despite the layers of clothing between them, Gale could feel the way his lips quirked upward into a small smile against him.

The upside to being a prisoner of war, with every single day and night being a test of their ability to survive? Being able to be close to one another, like this, with no judgment. They weren’t the only ones holding one another for warmth, the only ones who shared a bunk from time to time back at the stalag. That they couldn’t have this elsewhere without someone raising eyebrows was terribly unfair.

The downside? Everything else.

Gale didn’t have the heart to tell John that he had actually nodded off for a couple of hours already. He knew that their sleep had been dreamless and restless for over a year. And that was the best that anyone could hope for. The worst were of course the nightmares, the night terrors, men bolting upright in their bunks sweating, screaming.

He and John had been two of the lucky ones.

At least so far.

Gale’s hands idly soothed over John’s back, hoping that the gentle touch would lull him back to sleep. John shivered against him, and Gale couldn’t tell if it was from his touch or the cold. He hoped that it was the former, but the bitter cold was likely stronger than John’s desire for Gale and his touch.

In the depths of his mind, he liked to imagine that they were back stateside, before John shipped out, bed sheets tangled around them, touching one another slow, sweet, soft. Not the hurried manner which they went about it all since Gale had arrived in England. They stole moments together whenever they could, no longer afforded the luxury of time. At least in the stalag they could make excuses for being close to one another, sharing a bed.

If anyone saw anything, no they hadn’t. And even if they had, they wouldn’t have said anything.

“S’nice,” John mumbled against Gale’s throat, as strong, sure hands rubbed over his back.

“I know,” Gale said, eyes darting about to make sure that there were no other eyes on them. If there were, they weren’t scrutinizing enough for him to take notice. The other men were too busy trying to keep themselves warm and sleep as well, the guards not truly giving a damn, concerned with their own warmth as well.

“Lower,” John said, his fingers curling in Gale’s thick coat. “And in the front as opposed to the back.”

Gale stilled for a moment, and then bumped John’s forehead with his own. “I know you’re not that foolish.”

“Maybe I am,” John retorted. He inhaled sharply, exhaled shakily. “You know it puts me to sleep. If that truly is your end goal here, Buck.”

He looked around once more, before meeting John’s gaze. “Are you crazy?” Gale hissed, teeth clenched. “Your insatiable damn lust will get us both killed.”

John smiled sadly, then ducked his head and nuzzled at Gale’s throat. “We’re as good as dead already, sweetheart.”

Even it was the truth, Gale wanted to continue foolishly believing that there still might be a shred of hope. That their stories didn’t end with them receiving bullets between the eyes, left to rot wherever the Germans saw fit. That he and John might live to see a few more sunrises, that they might see the end of the war, that they might go back home.

Despite Gale’s optimism, it seemed less and less likely that he would know anything but this ever again.

Gale watched as a guard literally stepped over his and John’s bodies to get to the front of the building, and for the moment he froze, waiting for them to pass. He turned his head, his back to the entrance of the farm house, and watched as the majority of the men tasked with guarding them stepped outside. There was a brief flicker of fire from a lighter, the flame passed around until all three cigarettes were lit. Gale turned back toward John, looking into his dark blue eyes, heavy lidded with exhaustion, and something else that he had only ever shown to Gale.

Neither of them spoke of it.

Gale pulled the glove off of one of his hands, and John shifted in front of him, wriggling excitedly. It was a moment later when Gale realized that it wasn’t excitement, it was John undoing his pants and pushing layers of fabric up, down, out of the way. Gale held John’s gaze as he spat discreetly into his palm, and John’s lips parted with a soft sigh before he caught his bottom lip between his teeth.

“For once in your life, be quiet,” Gale rasped, his hand disappearing beneath the blanket.

That insufferable, wolfish grin passed over John’s features, and if Gale was going to die that night he could think of no sweeter death than while making the man in front of him feel pleasure and happiness one last time.

Through the layers of clothing, his own and John’s, Gale’s fingers finally, blissfully, wrapped around John’s cock. Gale watched as John bit his lip so hard that for the moment he was terrified that his teeth would go through it. So focused had they been on their plan, on trying to make it out of the stalag alive, that they hadn’t found the time to do little more than give each others’ hand a squeeze in passing. Too long had it been since either of them had known the touch of the other somewhere a little more intimate.

“Quiet,” Gale reminded as he watched John’s lips part in a soft gasp.

“I know. I know,” John whispered hurriedly, before pressing his face into the long, delicate column of Gale’s throat. There had been a scarf in his way; Gale had felt John bite it to shift it out of his way.

Gale reminded himself that he needed to be quiet. The brush of John’s lips against his throat, an errogneous spot for him (that John had figured out, incidentally), had him wanting to roll onto his back, haul John on top of him, and arch beneath him until they both came, chasing a pleasure that they had never been rightly afforded, one that they were frightened to come to terms with perhaps never having again.

Some other time, perhaps.

Gale flexed his fingers, stiff from the cold, but thawing so close to the warmth of John’s body. John’s cock was thick, heavy, in his palm, just as it always had been. The normalcy of the act, despite the horror of the location, comforted Gale in a way that he hadn’t anticipated, and he let out his own quiet sigh, which he pressed into the knit cap that John wore.

He longed to press his face into those soft, wild, dark curls that he had come to love in the years since he’d met John.

“Buck,” John rasped against his throat, bringing him back from where he drifted off to. A place where they could be warm, soft.

Safe.

“I’m here,” Gale whispered, droplets of damp in John’s cap catching against his lips. The sickly sweet scent of John’s sweat, his musk, filled Gale’s nostrils, and his free hand clutched at the back of John’s coat.

John’s hips twitched against Gale’s fingers, his body, trying to move with him, trying to chase the high that he was so desperately seeking, that Gale was desperate to give to him. His lips were parted against Gale’s pulse point, attempting to quietly gasp for air, dropping tender kisses that were so warm that threatened to burn Gale alive. He welcomed it.

Gale dragged his spit along John’s shaft, thumb collecting the precome that gathered at the head and smeared it over his length. John muffled a soft, desperate sound against Gale’s skin, damp with sweat from the effort of trying to be quiet, be still, of finally discovering some manner of warmth, before lifting his head slightly, to peer over Gale’s shoulder.

“Hurry,” was all he said, and Gale knew that outside the butts of cigarettes were being stomped out beneath boots, that they were running out of time.

“Five seconds,” Gale gasped, before swallowing thickly. John had met his gaze, held it, and Gale swallowed past both a lump in his throat and a louder noise that threatened to escape. Gale flicked his wrist as John attempted to move quickly, and yet keep his movements imperceptible. “C’mon, John. You can do it.”

“Buck,” John breathed, lips centimetres from Gale’s. They both wanted it. But they couldn’t risk it. “Please.”

Gale had never heard John be so polite in all of the time that they knew one another. He craned his neck slightly and looked out of the corner of his eye, unable to see the Germans, but knowing that they were coming in from out of the cold.

“Five,” he whispered, turning back to John. His fingers, desperate to give John his release moved faster, and John chased them as best he could.

“Four.” Brushing against John’s balls, Gale could feel them draw up toward his body.

“Three.” Gale looked at John’s face, so fuckin’ happy to see his cheeks rosy with colour. He looked like he was burning up, too big, too warm for his skin. But it sure as hell beat the alternative that they currently faced.

“Two.” John’s eyelids began to slip closed, eyes rolling toward the back of his skull, head tipped back slightly, lips parted. Gale knew the expression that John wore as he came better than he knew how to fly a B-17.

“One.” Gale felt John’s spend slipping through his fingers, hot, sticky, and abundant. John’s lips were parted in a silent cry, as he carefully bucked his hips toward Gale’s touch.

In that moment Gale had been incredibly proud of John, mostly quiet throughout it all save for a few whispers and gasped breaths. He was an extremely noisy lover, and short of having something stuffed in his mouth could always be counted on to be loud. Even when discretion was key. John seemed to think that Air Force wouldn’t give a damn if he was a fairy, only one person flew planes better in his mind, and that was who he would be undoubtedly be found with.

Spent, John pressed himself against Gale, and his trembling body could easily be explained away with the cold. Gale held him close, eyes on the guards as they began to filter back into farm house, not daring to move, even if he could feel John’s come cooling and congealing on his hand. He was already absolutely filthy. If anyone noticed the slightly sweet smell of come, no one acknowledged it.

Gale managed to worm his hand out from under clothing, the blanket, and brought it to his mouth, licking and sucking his fingers clean. Not in an attempt to be seductive, but to clean himself. If John noticed, he didn’t say a word, instead looked down as he put his cock away, did his pants back up.

Grabbing the edge of the blanket, Gale pulled it up toward their chins, hoping his own movements would mask John’s. Satisfied with the state of himself, John glanced back up at Gale, giving him a fond smile. Gale managed one back.

“Roll over,” John murmured. “You can be the little spoon for once.”

Despite himself, Gale managed a small smile of his own, thoughts momentarily shifting toward a dear friend, who had once been John’s big spoon. It hadn’t been that long ago that the three of them had laughed into the phone together, and yet it might as well have been another lifetime.

Gale did as he was told, John’s strong arms wrapping around him and pulling him back against his chest. This way, Gale could keep an eye on the front door, on more of the men. The only downside of this position, as far as he was concerned, was that he could not see John’s face. He wasn’t sure how much longer that he would have the opportunity to commit it to memory, as if he hadn’t already.

He felt John’s body go lax against his, heard him snore into his shoulder, and smiled.

-

October 1945

John couldn’t sleep.

He often couldn’t. It was too quiet. He had gotten used to noise, whether it be the sounds of dozens of other men sleeping around him, bullets, bombs, and bigotry. It had been five long years of never being alone, to suddenly the sound of silence becoming a deafening thing.

Sitting up in their bed, knees to his chest, arms resting atop them, John corrected himself. He wasn’t alone.

John turned his attention from the moon hanging outside of their window to the restless figure beside him. Whatever sleep Gale had lost during the war, he was trying to find it in the house that they shared in Kansas. Not Wisconsin, not Wyoming. A fresh start, where no one knew them. They could be anonymous, buy a plot of land in the middle of nowhere. Fix up an old house that had been lost to time. Two friends who had come back from the war, no longer used to being alone, needing the other to help quiet the noise in their head.

Tender as the thoughts of a quiet life together made him, it was Gale’s agitated frame that had John watching his lover like a hawk.

He knew what came next, and preferred to be awake for it instead of startled out of his sleep, feet on the creaky, old hardwood floors before his eyes had fully opened.

Gale bolted upright, screaming.

Had he been in his right mind, Gale would have known what came next as well. They had discussed it at length in the daylight, when the ghosts more or less left Gale alone.

The bed clothes fell away from John’s body as he straddled Gale’s thighs, large hands first on his shoulders, carefully anchoring him, bringing him back to the present, then moving to his back, drawing him closer. One hand mooring Gale against him, the other cradling the back of his head, bringing his face to the juncture where his shoulder and neck met. Gale would press his face into John’s shoulder until the screams subsided, sometimes turning into choked off, broken sobs, sometimes turning into ragged breaths. But always turning into a mumbled, “I’m sorry, John.”

To which John would always say, “Ain’t nothin’ to be sorry for, sweetheart.”

Had it truly been not even a year since the stalag? All of the horrors that they had seen, experienced?

Gale lifted his head, and John’s thumb swept over his cheeks, gathering the damp that leaked from his eyes. Neither of them were too proud to shy away from tears, their own and each other’s, at least with one another. Gale looked up at John pathetically, blue eyes wide, bright, and wet with unshed tears that he blinked away as quickly as he could.

“It’ll get better, won’t it?” Gale asked the older man, voice thick.

John’s mouth formed a thin line and he sighed. Neither of them knew. It didn’t stop Gale from asking.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gale whispered, his hands reaching up and tangling in John’s hair, touching at his face.

“Look at you like what?” John asked, tilting toward Gale’s desperate and frantic touch. He knew what his love was doing; ensuring that he was still there, ensuring that he was real.

“Like I’m off my loop,” Gale replied, his eyes searching John’s.

“Think I’ll take you to the laughing farm if you are?” John asked, leaning in closer to Gale’s face.

Gale closed the distance between them, kissing John frantically. It was less a kiss, more Gale smashing their lips together so hard that John worried he might have chipped a tooth. His own or John’s.

“Don’t torment me,” Gale pleaded, and John instantly felt bad for attempting to soothe Gale’s mind with his usual antics.

John didn’t apologize, Gale hated it when he did, despite having done it moments ago himself. “What do you need, sweetheart?” he asked. The sentence hadn’t truly been completed, Gale’s mouth seeking out his again, the remainder of it dying between their lips.

“Make me forget them,” Gale replied, fingers searching for purchase against John’s chest, finding it in warm skin, wiry, dark curls. “Keep the ghosts away.”

Wrapping his arms around Gale’s slender frame, John pushed him back down onto their bed, covering Gale’s body with his own. His mouth descended upon Gale’s, forcing his lips apart with his tongue, licking inside until the tip of his tongue brushed against Gale’s molars. Gale clutched at his arms desperately, one leg hooking over his hip in attempt to keep him close, to keep him from moving away.

As if there were any place else in the world than John wanted to be than in a falling apart house in Kansas, wrapped up in the sheets and limbs of the man that he loved.

John felt Gale’s cock hard against his hip, and began to reach down between their bodies, only to have Gale’s long, elegant fingers wrap around his wrist. John lifted his head, alarmed, to find Gale shaking his head.

“No,” he rasped. “Not like that.”

Instead of asking what Gale would have preferred, John waited for Gale to show him. Gale reached between them, and John had half a mind to bat Gale’s hand away, but the thought turned to soup when Gale wrapped his fingers around John’s prick, guiding it against his own. John rolled his hips tentatively, face searching Gale’s for approval. Gale closed his eyes, breathless, and nodded. John repeated the motion, and was rewarded with the sweet sound of Gale’s moan.

In the middle of nowhere, they could be as loud as they wanted. They made up for the farm house, the stalag, the barracks, and everywhere else they had ever muffled the sounds that they made.

John moved slowly at first, cock already so wet just from the mere thought of even having Gale against him, grinding against his lover. Gale’s arms went around him, clutching at him, blunt edges of fingernails digging into his back, leaving crescent moon indentations in their wake. To go with all the other crescent moon indentations that he had left in recent days, nights.

Gale, not satisfied with sweet and slow, bucked beneath John, encouraging him to move faster, harder, letting out an annoyed little grunt at not being given what he wanted, impatient in his desire. Desire to feel pleasure, desire to forget.

“I’ve got you,” John breathed, hips snapping forward. He was rewarded with Gale’s sharp gasp, his body responding in kind. “Buck, I’ve got you.”

Gale smeared his mouth over John’s jawline, the days old stubble that he hadn’t bothered to shave, partially out of laziness, mostly out of Gale’s request. Evidently, he loved the burn. John’s eyelids fluttered shut, the leg draped over his hip urging him closer, even if there was nowhere for him to go.

John dragged his cock through the pool of gathering precome in Gale’s blonde pubic hair, his own mixed with Gale’s. Bracing one hand against the bed, the other tangled in Gale’s hair. Gale’s eyes, which had been closed, opened to meet John’s in a hazy gaze, begging him to not look away. John gave Gale a brusque nod, grunting as they moved together. Despite its desperateness, erraticness, it was a rhythym that they have perfected, one that was theirs.

Grunting, John movements became frenzied, and Gale’s lips fell open in soft, short gasps, head tipped back against the pillows. John was overcome with the urge to both bite at, and protect Gale’s vulnerable throat, tipping his head forward and mouthing along the pulse point that he had found so many times before.

“John. John,” Gale gasped, his lover’s name a mantra on his lips as his body tensed. He came beneath John with a cry that it sounded like he might asphyxiate on, coming across his own belly and chest.

John tumbled wordlessly after, moaning into Gale’s throat, tongue and teeth marking their rightful place against his skin, damp with sweat.

They laid there together in their bed, John’s body still atop Gale’s, pinning him, giving him the weight that he knew that Gale desperately craved. Gale’s touch over John’s arms became feather light, tender, bringing him back from the edge of the intensity that they had just experienced together. John turned his head, kissing at Gale’s fingertips, looking into the eyes of man fucked back toward the edge of sleep.

Satiated. Happy.

Safe.

“If they want you,” John whispered, lips still dancing over Gale’s fingers, “they’re going to have to fight me.”

/end.