#to my twitter followers who first read this 2 years ago. i’m sorry. stares are you with big wide eyes

[comradekiwi]

bkdk regency era au confession request for @bakutogabaku :)

The castle halls were bustling with movement, maids and cooks and butlers shuffling to and fro as they prepared for the ball. It was easy to get caught underfoot, if you didn’t know your way around.

Fortunately, Izuku knew his way around quite well, and narrowly avoided crashing into a tray of cakes by ducking under it and into the hidden alcove behind the winter tapestry, the giant one of the Bakugou’s ancestral home. Izuku heaved a great sigh of relief, untensing. The crowds got a bit much for him, sometimes. He was only here to see Kacchan, anyway.

A hot hand gripped the back of his head. “Deku?”

Izuku startled, whipping around swiftly to the beloved sight of his childhood friend, if vague and blurry in the dark. Good thing Izuku would know those shoulders anywhere.

“Kacchan? I thought you’d have snuck out to the roof by now.” That was where he had been going, before the busy movement had overwhelmed him.

“Got sidetracked, same as you, it seems,” Kacchan said, sliding to sit on the floor. Izuku sat across from him, eyes adjusting to the dim light. Katsuki drew a candle up out of nowhere and lit it, setting it next to them against the wall of the small space just big enough for them to sit without touching.

Kacchan did not love crowds either, skilled as he was in commanding them. But he’d never admit to hiding from them, no, it was always “regrouping” or “getting sidetracked,” to Izuku’s endless endearment.

“Pity. The wind is lovely today. Good I found you, though, or I’d be sharing our picnic with my own self,” Izuku laughed, digging through his satchel for the lunch parcels his mother had packed for him and Katsuki.

Kacchan straightened up, the sight making Izuku’s heart clench, Kacchan in his regal adornments sitting up earnestly at the mention of his peasant mother’s homemade food. “Auntie made it?”

“Mm.”

“Fuck yeah,” Katsuki grinned wildly, teeth white in the dimness. Izuku decidedly did not swoon at the gleeful stretch of his large mouth, instead focusing on finding the fruit he knew he’d thrown into his bag.

“Wait–” Kacchan interrupted, staying his hand. He reached over to put everything Izuku had taken out back into his satchel. “Give me your coat.”

Izuku looked at the coat rolled up and clasped to his bag, then at Katsuki, deadpan.

“Kacchan, it’ll never fit.” Much to Izuku chagrin and secret delight, and Katsuki’s amusement and much more vocal delight, they were no longer around the same height like they’d been as children, Katsuki instead towering over him by at least a foot. And he was still growing. Curse his dragonsblood genes.

“It’s not for the chill, dumbass,” Kacchan rolled his eyes, “Just give it here.”

Izuku handed it over obediently, watching as Kacchan fashioned it into some sort of blasphemization of a shawl.

“Brilliant. I’ll let your mother know you’re all set for the ball, then,” Izuku giggled.

“Shut the fuck up,” Katsuki grouched, pushing Izuku with a hand to the face, “and let’s go.”

A picnic elsewhere, then. Izuku loved those.

Izuku peeked out the tapestry; the crowd had not lessened in the slightest, which meant too many people around for anyone to notice the prince, but also more people who could potentially notice the prince. Izuku glanced back at Kacchan, who had removed his own fancy coat, doing his best to look inconspicuous. Izuku glanced down at the coat in his hands, the rich material and embroidery twinkling in the candlelight.

“What are you going to do with–” Izuku was cut off as Katsuki shoved the outerwear at him abruptly, mumbling something while looking away. “Huh?”

“Put it on,” Katsuki repeated, a bit louder, staring Izuku down. “They’ve seen you in my things enough times to not pay you any mind. And it will distract them from me.”

Izuku blushed furiously at all the implications of that statement that Katsuki obviously did not mean and probably had not even considered, false as they were. Izuku in Katsuki’s clothes was simply a natural byproduct of the two of them growing up together, impromptu sleepovers in the castle, and Izuku’s slightly smaller stature when they were children that allowed for uninhibited clothes-sharing. Or, rather, clothes-giving, given Katsuki’s birthright of plenty and Izuku’s modest upbringing. Queen Mitsuki always thought he looked simply adorable in Katsuki’s clothes anyway, and the young prince Katsuki had never shared the sentiment but had always pushed his clothes onto Izuku anyway, often brusquely, often with pink cheeks. Izuku thought he was so sweet, to care about Izuku like that, even if he did not want to be vocal about it.

(Izuku was not poor, either, not by any means, but everyone was some degree of worse-off compared to the royal Bakugous.)

(The maids did not even talk, accustomed to the little green-haired boy adorned in their prince’s things as they chased each other around the castle with wooden swords and tiny battle cries. New servants learned quickly to expect a freckled face in random corners, reading or writing or sketching, leaning on their prince’s shoulder or chattering at him while he trained. It was the way of the world, to see a golden head held high followed by the curly one trailing after it, or next to it.)

Their current mission was a success, Izuku slipping out of the alcove swamped in Katsuki’s expensive coat and through the crowd like a minnow, stopped only once by one of the kindest butlers, who gave him a once over and a knowing smile before slipping two tarts into his hands and nudging him off. All the while, Kacchan must have ducked his way through the halls too, because Izuku found him leaning on the wall just inside the doorway of the stairwell leading up to their favourite tower.

Kacchan swept his gaze over his figure (as if checking for injuries – Kacchan was so silly sometimes), nodded to himself, and swept away up the stairs, dramatic as if waving his formal cape behind him. He did not look back, knowing Izuku would follow, which he did, rolling his eyes at his back.

They settled down by a huge open window overlooking the grounds, half next-to and half in-front of each other, so they could enjoy both the company and the view at once. Izuku unpacked their food again, handing Kacchan a parcel and avoiding staring at his strong fingers deftly untying the string so tiny under his hands.

Izuku turned his face to the sun, enjoying the air. Every part of the kingdom had its charm, but Izuku had a bit of bias for the castle grounds, perhaps because he spent half his childhood here running around. Something about the sectioned off luxury set him at peace, like nothing could harm him here on the Bakugou’s property.

“Izuku,” Kacchan said suddenly. Izuku looked up, moderately alarmed at his serious tone. Katsuki had his face turned away from him, eyes stubbornly fixed on something in the distance.

“Yes, Kacchan?”

Izuku squinted. Was… was Katsuki blushing?

The prince cleared his throat, fumbling for words uncharacteristically. Izuku was definitely alarmed. “Is something wrong?”

Kacchan finally looked at him, looked into his eyes for a second before the pinkness on his cheeks deepened and he looked away again, picking at his food.

“Izuku.” He said again. Izuku leaned forward, watching him plaintively.

Katsuki glanced at him and away quickly, squeezing his eyes shut as the pink spread. “Fucking – stop that.”

“Stop what?” Izuku wasn’t doing anything.

“Your stupid– nevermind,” he huffed, shaking his head and seeming to steel himself.

What in the world? Katsuki never had any issue telling him anything. Impatient, Izuku pushed, “Kacchan, what’s going o–”

“How would you court someone?”

All the blood in Izuku’s body curdled into ice.

What?

“How would I..” Izuku swallowed. “Oh, have you… have you finally found someone?”

Every year, around the time of the Sun Cycle festivities, Auntie Mitsuki would always ruffle Katsuki’s hair and jokingly ask when he’d get around to finding a future royal consort. Kacchan would always smack her hands away and glare, almost too sharply for the question at hand, and the queen would laugh and laugh and swing an arm around Izuku, who was usually present, and try to goad him into joining her in teasing his best friend. Izuku would laugh too, though increasingly weakly as the years passed and he grew more and more hopelessly, irrevocably, tortuously in love with Bakugou Katsuki. He had a feeling the queen knew about that, too, given how she always eyed him a touch too long whenever she brought up the subject of Kacchan’s future partner, features calculating. Izuku had grown alongside Kacchan enough to have picked up on skill of inscrutability necessary in the Court, but little got past Auntie Mitsuki, especially when it concerned her sons.

All this to say Izuku had considered the possibility of the queen actually pushing Kacchan to find a consort and found it lacking, so he had put the fear out of his mind, convincing himself the action was out of rationality rather than desperate self-preservation.

It seems he had been horribly, horribly mistaken.

Katsuki was clearly blushing now, face red and eyes slightly too-wide, even as he mustered up a face of impassiveness from some depths of practice from years in court. His clenched jaw and red face were the only things giving him away.

Izuku waited in the pause with bated breath, world at a standstill.

“...Yes.” Katsuki said, finally.

Ah.

Izuku’s heart cracked right down the middle, the pieces falling weightlessly out of his chest and over the tower ledge with nothing to catch them. Ah. Of course. How foolish of Izuku to think this day would not come, when Kacchan could so easily find someone as glorious as he, someone worthy of his affection and his future, in this wide and vast world.

Izuku swallowed tightly and promised himself not to cry in front of Kacchan.

“That’s. Nice.” He mumbled, then winced. Very subtle, Izuku. “Um! I would get them flowers probably, maybe, and …”

Katsuki was listening attentively, watching Izuku’s face and nodding along with more focus than he usually ever gave publicly to his stories.

(Not that he didn’t listen. He always did, just was almost shy about it, always doing something else as he lended an ear, sometimes working in pretense, sometimes actually. He seemed to get a lot of work done when simultaneously listening to Izuku, which was probably half of why Katsuki always dragged him along whenever he had duties to fulfill or training or homework.)

But seeing Katsuki devote such single-mindedness now, attentive in a way he rarely was, broke Izuku’s heart that much more, ground it into a fine dust. This must be very important to him, if Kacchan was taking it so seriously.

Izuku was torn between purposely sabotaging him, and helping him like a good best friend. Unfortunately, Kacchan’s happiness was the most important thing to him, and this was clearly something he cared about deeply, so despite the devil on his shoulder (that sounded suspiciously like Kacchan, actually), Izuku chose the latter with aching fingers.

“...and I think asking is good. You can ask them what they like and make it happen, they’d probably like that,” Izuku finished, letting out a quiet breath. Please no more.

Katsuki looked contemplative. “What about if it was you?”

Oh sweet mercy. “Huh?”

Katsuki cleared his throat, still horribly pink, and graciously did not laugh at Izuku’s squeak. “If someone asked you what you liked to be courted with. What would you say? Hypothetically.”

Oh, Kacchan, this was just cruel. Asking Izuku to fantasize about being courted by someone when the only person he’d want to be asked by was sitting cross-legged in front of him, asking for advice about courting someone else entirely.

Izuku stuffed his face with rice to stall and give himself an excuse in case he sounded choked up when he spoke. “Er, let’s see…” Oh, good, he sounded normal. “Well, one time Prince Todoroki tried courting me–”

Katsuki sat up straight immediately, face turning to stone. “He what.”

Izuku shivered at the deep rumble of his voice, and rolled his eyes. “See, this is why I didn’t tell you.”

Kacchan was notoriously possessive over his things, and Izuku liked to pretend to himself that his inclusion in that list could be in a romantic context, even if it was most certainly not. In truth, he’d kept notice of Shouto courting him away from Kacchan in a bid to keep up the secret fantasy of a jealous reaction in his head, to avoid Kacchan’s reaction in real life from squashing that hope. He would, Izuku knew, likely lash out in a possessive rage simply because he saw Todoroki as a threat for some reason, and not because it had anything to do with Izuku. And, if it did, it was simply because Kacchan had not really changed much from the four year old who had stomped up to Izuku under the willow in the town square and declared him his.

Izuku supposed he hadn’t changed much either from the four year old who had stood under the willow in town square and agreed.

In the present time, Kacchan leaned into Izuku’s space, seething. “You tell me everything.”

“You didn’t tell me you found someone,” Izuku shot back automatically, then winced at Kacchan’s taken aback expression. “Sorry.” He could feel dread curdling in his stomach, a creeping, sick fear that this heartbreak would turn into resentment, into the poisoning of his closeness with Kacchan, into a growing, necrotic distance between them until they were but estranged former–

“No, I’m… sorry.” Katsuki said lowly, and Izuku’s head whipped up, shocked. Kacchan rarely apologized out loud, preferring to show remorse through action.

He looked conflicted, rubbing a hand through spiky hair, rings glinting. “Is this– is your courtship with that bastard the same kind of thing, then?” Kacchan muttered, as if the words pained him.

Same– oh. Kacchan thought he’d kept Todoroki a secret for the same reason Katsuki had kept his own romantic interest a secret. For how precious and genuine it felt, probably.

“No, no, Kacchan,” Izuku hurried to amend, hating himself for it, for still pretending he meant anything to Kacchan worth apologizing for a courtship over. “It was nothing. He only tried to court me, I had little interest, and we parted as friends.”

Katsuki sat back reluctantly, grumbling something about “calling it” and “stupid fucking Todorokis.” He took a minute to calm himself, and Izuku waited patiently, well accustomed to Kacchan’s gradually developed ritual for dealing with his temper. After all, Izuku had helped him come up with it.

Kacchan finally breathed out slowly and reopened his eyes, looking into Izuku’s waiting ones. He cleared his throat. “Well?” he prompted. “What did the bastard do when he… then.”

Izuku stifled a giggle at his clearly still-grumpy pout, and at the jolly memory. He loved the prince of the neighboring kingdom dearly, if platonically, even more happily now that they’d discovered that was mutual. “There was a bouquet of roses, if I remember correctly. And an invite to accompany him in his fancy carriage to go into town. Oh, and Shouto–” here Katsuki’s eyebrows shot up at the familiar use of a given name– “Shouto bartered with his father to let him stay an extra week here in return for extra training, which was sweet. You know how he hates that.”

Once, when Kacchan and Izuku were quite small, they had pranked the Lady Ayako, sneaking a skunk-stink-soaked handkerchief into her purse in the middle of court. Among such respectable and high-class company she could not possibly make expressive faces in revulsion, out of propriety. Meaning Izuku and Kacchan got to giggle from the shadows, peeking from behind a massive curtain, as the Lady attempted to stifle her automatic twisted faces of disgust in the name of etiquette, resulting in the truly hilarious expression of what looked like, ultimately, constipation.

(The Lady Ayako had been a neutral figure in their lives, until she had one day turned up her nose at Izuku’s lovingly well-worn vest and made some snide remark about the quality of the young prince’s company. Coincidentally, Kacchan had devised the skunk prank the next day.)

(Perhaps even more curiously, when Uncle Masaru had swept back the curtain and unearthed the giggling children, he had merely frowned at them and sent them to bed with naught but a stern word about spying on people. The perpetrators of the smelly clutch were never found, and Lady Ayako was politely asked to leave early.)

Katsuki, at present, bore an expression remarkably similar to Lady Ayako’s that night.

“What a regular fuckin’ Romeo,” Izuku thought he heard him mutter under his breath.

“I could do way better than that,” Katsuki announced, loudly. Izuku smiled at him fondly.

“I’m sure you can, Kacchan,” he said, very bravely ignoring the broken pieces of his heart rattling around petulantly. “Whoever you ask will love whatever way you do it, because Kacchan’s amazing.”

I wouldn’t need anything, Izuku did not say. You could confess with a blade through my heart and I’d still collapse from happiness more than anything else. I would take anything, anything–

“When will you do it?” Izuku asked aloud, cutting off his internal spiraling.

“Hmm. Tomorrow,” Katsuki said decidedly. Izuku choked.

“To– that’s so soon! Needn’t you prepare?”

Katsuki shook his head, looking out over the grounds, eyes distant. “I have everything I need.”

…tbc :)

[2996-sana]

Not the Jealous Type - Rosé

Rosé prided herself in being levelheaded and not of the jealous kind when it came to you. I mean, not really. You did. It started with your coworker, Tzuyu, who had taken quite a liking towards you in the beginning of last year which coincidentally was around the time you and Rosé started seeing each other. You weren’t tooting your own horn. Tzuyu really did fancy you. She said so herself, albeit drunkenly, during a late-night drinking session with your officemates, coincidentally again two nights after you made it official with Rosé. Rosé wasn’t stupid nor was she blind. She knew the first time she saw Tzuyu that the girl was practically head over heels for you, but it was two weeks in into a blossoming potential relationship when she realized and the last thing she wanted was to scare you off by being a possessive not-yet-girlfriend. So, she tucked that little piece of observation for next time and focused on you instead.

When she came over two nights after you finally asked her to be her girlfriend, you broke the news. The first thing on Rosé’s mind was, I knew it! which immediately turned to, I swear if she tries anything, I will not hesitate to break her bones and rui-

“Rosie?” you questioned, breaking her out of her jealousy induced trance. You were tilting your head in that cute little way that you always do when you were feeling uncertain and she felt the fires of jealousy and annoyance in her body simmering down. “Your forehead is all scrunched up and you’re pouting. Are you bothered by it? I’ll stay away from her if you feel uncomfortable.”

For the past few months, Rosé realized that she has never acted out on her jealousy, choosing to bottle it up. It worked out just fine and she avoided fights and confrontations that would’ve came with it. So obviously, it worked out just fine. At least thats what she was trying to convince herself. Why should she start acting on it now? She trusted you and that was what matters.

Rosé quickly composed herself and mustered up the most genuine smile she could in the moment, “Me? Bothered by her? Baby, not in a million years!” she scoffed, puffing out her chest. “You see, I’m really not the jealous type and I trust you.”

For a moment, she thought you saw right through her façade. With the way that you stared up at her all confused, she thought the words ‘I am actually seething with anger and jealousy right now’ magically made its way to her forehead. Instead, you broke out into that cute smile of yours and leaned forward to press a lingering kiss on her temple.

“If you say so, angel.”

In the next few months that followed, Rosé wasn’t sure her resolve was as strong as she thought it was. After that night, you and Tzuyu called a truce. You informed Tzuyu that you were happily in a relationship but you would like for things not to get awkward and for you and her to stay friends. Tzuyu obviously loved the idea, thinking that if she couldn’t have you as a girlfriend, she could at least keep you in her life as a friend.

So, if friendship was the agreement, why was it that Tzuyu jumped at every opportunity to make a move on you? All the while, Rosé had to act like the model girlfriend who never got jealous and stayed calm and collected. Why did she have to brag about not being the jealous type?

“Wow, you’re so chill about this,” you would always say. Rosé wanted to laugh. She deserved at least an Oscar nomination.

“Y/N, your phone has been buzzing nonstop!” Rosé groaned, pulling away from your lips, annoyed that she had to stop making out with you. “Who the fuck would text at 2 fucking am. Unbelie-” she narrowed her eyes at the contact name of the culprit and removed herself from your lap.

“What’s up, Rosie posie? Who is it?” you mused.

You saw Rosé battle with about a hundred emotions: confusion, anger, annoyance – before you could make out a lame attempt at a smile. She pushed your phone towards you.

“It’s Tzuyu,” she said through clenched teeth, trying to control her frustration, “she wants you to know that she found a super adorable picture of a fucking cat on Twitter.”

You raised your eyebrows at the hostile tone in your girlfriend’s voice before turning to her smugly, “Does that bother you, babe?”

“No!” Rosé didn’t miss a beat, her pride and ego taking a hit. “Why would I be? I don’t get jealous.”

“Hmm, alright then.” you giggled. You took your phone from her grasp and unlocked it, clicking the Messages app and reading Tzuyu’s texts.

Her last one read,

Tzuyu: oh n btw my friends have a small gig at the café this saturday. u up for it? hehe we never hang out anymore with just the two of us:(

You could feel Rosé looking over your shoulder, breathing down on your neck.

Rosé felt her blood rise once she processed what Tzuyu was implying. As far as she knew, Tzuyu has never invited you out before. The girl was getting too brave and it took all of Rosé’s self-control not to scream and make her way to Tzuyu’s house and set it on fire.

You turned to face her, feigning confusion and pretending to think about it. You had a small smile on your face as you stared at your girlfriend’s increasingly red face, and you really didn’t think it was a blush Rosé was sporting.

Rose scoffed, “You clearly want to go so just do it. Have fun or whatever.” she started picking at her nails and refused to look your way and you could tell you finally got her where you wanted her.

For the almost two years that you’ve been together, you grew amused at your girlfriend’s attempt to mask her jealousy. She would always act like Tzuyu’s (failed) advances didn’t faze her but you’ve caught her numerous times mumbling curses and words that were far from friendly under her breath when she thought you weren’t paying attention. Props to Rosé and her stubbornness to admit defeat but she really wasn’t as good an actress as she thought she was. It also didn’t help Rosé to have best friends like Jennie, Jisoo, and Lisa who snitched on her anytime they could but you decided to let your girlfriend live in her fantasy world and kept quiet about it. Plus, it was fun to see Rosé silently squirm. At this point, you were just waiting for her to break and it seemed like the time has finally come for Rosé to draw the line.

“Someone is a bit jealous,” you teased, pinching her cheeks.

Rosé slapped your hand away and gave you her most menacing glare, “Shut up!”

“You’re not denying it then?”

“Well, maybe if she wasn’t so set on stealing you away from me, I wouldn’t need to be jealous,” Rosé grumbled, crossing her arms. Bingo.

At her admission, you try to hide the smile forcing its way into your face.

“Stop! Stop looking at me like that,” your girlfriend whined. The smile on your face drops as you notice tears threatening to fall from her eyes.

You immediately sprung into action and cradled her, “Shit, baby, what’s wrong?”

Tears started to soak your hoodie as you hear your girlfriend’s sniffles.

“Rosie, talk to me,” you pleaded. Seeing your girlfriend cry was not on the agenda of Operation Make Rosie Admit She’s Actually Jealous and it just made you upset that it had come to this. “I’m so sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be fooled,” she silently growled. “These are tears of anger.”

“What?”

“I hate her!” she snarled, wrapping her arms around your waist. “She better fucking stop or on god I’m gonna start swinging!”

You laughed at your girlfriend who was clinging onto you for dear life. You decide to let her have her moment because you knew she had a lot of pent up anger towards the situation, so you spent half an hour listening to her curse and threaten anyone who would dare try to make a move.

By the end of her rant, she was out of breath.

“How does it feel to finally let it out?” you snickered.

She only tightened her hold around you, “Pretty rude of you not to tell me you knew, by the way. But I feel so much better now that I get to tell you that if you even try to entertain other girls, I will end you and her.” she sighed in relief, “God, it feels so good to finally bitch about it.”

You roughly grab her jaw and started kissing her neck, “That was hot.”

She tilted her neck to give you more access and started playing with the hair on the nape of your neck, “If I knew coming clean would end like this, I would’ve done it a long time ago.”

“Wait,” she pulled back, looking you straight in the eyes. “You know its all because I love you right? I don’t want to lose you.”

You pressed your foreheads together and smiled, “It’s me and you against the world forever, Rosie.”

[taehyungs-perm]

midnight love - ch. 1

collab with @jimins-filter

jimin x reader; superhero au; childhood best friends to lovers au; ceo, billionaire philanthropist, playboy!jimin

genre: angst; lowkey funny; eventual smut

summary: playboy park jimin comes back to seoul city after disappearing for six years; too much has changed, especially you. living out your nights as nyx, seoul city’s dark knight, is a secret you’ve kept for as long as jimin’s disappeared. but what happens when a new hero named eros comes into town just as park jimin shows up at your front door…

word count: 5k

chapter 2

PLAYBOY BILLIONAIRE PARK JIMIN BACK IN SEOUL

You stared at the main headline on the trending page of Twitter, clutching a cup of iced coffee, desperately trying not to crush the plastic cup as you sat on your bed. You didn’t know if you should feel relieved or annoyed that Jimin was back in Seoul. You clicked on the headline and your phone was immediately filled with pictures and videos of strippers, people doing lines of coke, and a wealthy array of booze.

Of course Jimin did this. It was so on brand of him: to go missing for six years and then show up unannounced and throw a giant, extravagant party (at his newly purchased penthouse in downtown Seoul, of course). In the most simplest terms, you were pissed. Even after all these years, you had held out some hope that when he came back the first thing he would do is come see you or call you. But nothing. No text, no call, hell not even a letter. You scoffed at your naivety. You clearly didn’t matter to him.

You rubbed your head in annoyance and threw your phone on the bed, trying to expel any thought of Park Jimin and focus on the case you had pulled up on your laptop. You’ve been working at it for a week now and any and all concentration you had mustered while drinking your 7th cup of coffee went down the drain when you heard a sharp ring from your phone. You picked it up from where you threw it on your bed, the phone screen illuminating your face in the dim light of your room. It was an unknown number. You hesitated for a second. It could be a work-related call, you realize, quickly picking up the call.

“Hello?” you answered, skeptical.

“______?”

What the fuck? How did he get your number? Your mind was racing with thoughts, thoughts that you had long since repressed ever since he left without a word. When you didn’t respond, he repeated your name again. His voice was as silky and calming as it was last time you heard it six years ago.

“Jimin?” you whispered, scared that this was all an illusion, that his voice would just suddenly disappear. 

As much as you wanted to be mad at him, you couldn’t. You really couldn't. He was your kryptonite. From covering for him when he skipped detention to writing his college essays, you would do anything for him. Well, you used to. That was a different time, a different you. Back then, you knew you could depend on Jimin like he depended on you. But that was before he broke your heart and your trust.

“______” he said giggly. He was drunk. Why are you not surprised?

A surge of annoyance went through you.

“Back from the dead?” you asked, dryly

“It sure feels like hell since you're not here. Why didn’t you come?” he whined.

“Where? To the brothel you call a home?” You let out a shaky laugh of disbelief. “ I had work,  Jimin. In case you’ve forgotten, some of us actually have a job.”

“I missed you.” he said in a feather light tone, sending shivers down your spine.

You wanted to believe him, every ounce of your being wanted to believe he meant those words. But you knew Jimin. He was irresponsible, he was a playboy, he was reckless, and most of all, he was a liar.

“Jimin, what do you want?”  you said exasperated.

“I want you. Can you please come over? I just wanna see you. That’s all I want. I don’t want this party and I don’t want anyone in my house except you.”

God, he can spew some bullshit. “I have to work Jimin. I can't come over. I have shit to do” you said coldly.

“Please? I know fucked up ______ I know I did. And I’m sorry. I'm trying to make things right. With us.”

And just like that you were 18 again, falling for his words and his empty promises.

“Jimin..” you said trailing off, unsure of what to do. You offhandedly glanced at your clock, it read 1:25 am. It wasn’t that late. You normally didn’t go to sleep until 3:00 am anyways.

“My driver’s already at your house” he said quickly.

“Fine. But I’m only staying for 20 minutes. Then your driver is going to take me straight back home. Got it?”

“Got it, darling.”

You glanced in the mirror. You were wearing grey sweatpants with an unzipped grey hoodie, revealing your white Calvin Klein bra. Your hair was falling out of the braid you had put it in a few hours ago, with a few strands covering your eyes. You were tempted for a moment to change, maybe wash your face, but then the familiar surge of annoyance came back. You were there to hear whatever bullshit excuse Jimin had, nothing else, nothing more; it didn't matter what you looked like, the last person on earth you had to impress was Jimin.

You slipped on some slides and walked out of your apartment, spotting the black Mercedes on your driveway. You felt a gust of brisk air hit you as you slid into the backseat of the car.

“Ms. ______?” the driver called from the front seat, his eyes meeting yours through the rearview mirror.

“Yes?” you said, shivering from the cold.

“Mr. Park insisted I come here to pick you up, if that’s alright?”

“It’s fine. But this is a short visit. I won't be staying there long.”

The driver nodded and reversed onto the main road. The drive was short. You had just about scrolled through some emails before the driver had parked the car in front of a large black tower. The driver got out of the front seat and opened your door. You stepped out, suddenly feeling very under dressed. He escorted you to the front desk where he whispered something to the concierge.

“He will be taking you up to Mr. Park’s penthouse,” the driver said, presenting the concierge. “I will be waiting out front for whenever you would like to be taken home.”

You nodded and thanked the driver, and then followed the concierge to the last elevator on the right of the lobby. You stepped in and watched as he swiped a card and tapped a few numbers on the keypad of the elevator. High security, you thought.

You watched the number on the screen inside the elevator go from 1 to 69 in a matter of seconds. The doors swiftly opened leading straight into the living room. Your mouth gaped open at the sight. There were girls stumbling around in their stiletto heels drunk, wine glasses and beer cans scattered on the floors, a bra hanging from the chandelier, and too many naked people. You looked back at the concierge who seemed unfazed by the animalistic sight,  standing in the elevator only for a moment before the doors closed behind you.

You carefully made your way through the mess when you heard a familiar voice, “Please put on some clothes mister. There are designated drivers who will take you directly to your residence.”

You whipped your head and saw a completely distraught Namjoon with his hands covering his eyes, talking to a completely naked man.

“Namjoon?” You said incredulously.  It had been a couple of years at least since you last saw him.

“______!” he said, immediately breaking into his familiar dimpled smile. He pulled you in a small hug. “It’s been too long! What are you doing here?”

“Um..Jimin asked me to come.” You admitted, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“Oh..” Namjoon knew your history with Jimin, the long complicated story of nothing. “He’s in his bedroom,” Namjoon said, pointing down the long hallway to the left.

You started to make your way to his room but as you walked, the old feelings of butterflies started to creep up. God, stop it. Literally look at this. He’s an idiot, a fuckboy, a full on hot mess. You don’t need this. You don’t need him.

His bedroom door was cracked slightly open, revealing a soft stream of moonlight trailing into the hallway. You pushed the heavy door open as you exhaled all your stupid worries. The room was quiet but you noticed some strewn pieces of clothing on the floor here and there. You saw a corner of the black framed bed but it was covered by large frosted glass panels. You walked over to his bed and saw the one and only Park Jimin. He laid there, his arm covering his eyes and his brown hair all messed up.. He wore a simple dress pant and shirt, the top buttons unbuttoned. His shirt was slightly raised, revealing his defined V line.

“You have a wine stain on your shirt.” you said bluntly, wanting to point out the imperfections on the oh so perfect Park Jimin.

Jimin smirked, lifting his arm from over his eyes. He looked at you lazily, his eyes slowly raking up and down your body.  

“Nice to see you too beautiful,” he said sleepily.

“I’m here, Jimin,” you sighed, crossing your arms. You shifted to the side, looking at him exasperatedly. “What do you want?””

“Just wanted to see you,” He mumbled, tucking the escaped strands of hair behind your ear. Jimin leaned forward, balancing on his elbows, and whispered in your ear, “I missed you.”

You fought back a blush and pulled away. “No shit, you’ve been gone for 6 years.”

“I didn’t mean to be gone for that long, it just happened.”

“You could’ve called or texted.”

“It’s complicated.”

“Everything’s always complicated with you, Jimin,”

“C’mon darling, I’m here now,” Jimin said sweetly, trying to reel you back.

“You didn’t even fucking call me when you came into town. I found out through twitter!”

“Well, I called you now,” Jimin teased, sitting up on the bed, about to grab your arm.

You softly shook your head before walking towards his sleek black dresser and pulling out a pair of grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt.

“You should change,” you said, throwing the clothes at Jimin who caught them with ease. You turned around, your back toward him to give him some privacy. You faced the floor to ceiling windows that took up one part of his room, overlooking downtown Seoul. The lights of the city twinkled with wonder and the cool gray fog covered it with secrets.

You suddenly felt a body press against your back. Jimin’s arms wrapped around your waist and he leaned his head in the crook of your shoulder. You wanted nothing more than to just melt into his arms and forget about everything. But that could never happen. You turned around, trying to get him away from you before you did something stupid like kiss him. God, you couldn’t think around him.

Jimin obediently pulled away, stepping back so that the two of you were now facing each other. You saw that Jimin decided to forego a shirt, allowing you to get a better view of his sculpted abs. Your eyes immediately caught his tattoo that definitely was not there before: NEVERMIND written in all caps in a scraggly font. There were various scars littering his chest, some of them even looked fresh. What in the hell was he doing in the time that he was gone?

His voice came out genuine but you could hear a tinge of desperation that you hadn’t recognized before, “I meant it, you know?”

“Jimin,” you sighed. You looked up to meet his brown eyes. He looked at you anxiously, craving your forgiveness. “I don’t think you missed me. I think you missed your life.”

“I’m being serious ______. I really fucking miss you. I thought about you everyday,” he continued, trying to convince you.  

“Maybe I would believe you, but there’s four naked girls in your living room right now. Your actions beg to differ.” You grabbed your phone that you left on his dresser and walked to the entrance of his room . Just as you were about to close the door, you turned around to look at him. “You haven’t changed one bit, Park Jimin.”

☙

You slipped off your slides as you re-entered your apartment, the sound of silence overwhelming you. Everything about him was running through your mind as you laid down on your bed, trying to process what had just happened. The scars on his body, the tattoos, his eyes: it was everything about him changed but nothing really had. He still had the same charming smile and idiotic behavior. You tried to close your eyes and finally get some sleep but you were still unsettled from the whole interaction with Jimin. Deciding operation sleep was a no go, you got up from your soft pillows and stretched your body. You knew only one thing would put all of this nervous energy to use: patrolling the city. 

You stepped into your closet and pulled out your suit: black cargo pants with a fitted athletic black tank top tucked in. Underneath your top, you wore a sleeveless blue turtleneck which doubled as a mask. You felt yourself fall into the familiar routine of suiting up, lacing up your boots and pulling your hair into a ponytail. You remember being so nervous the first few times you went patrolling, whether it was for your life or fear of failure, you can’t be sure. But now, you felt calm and relaxed. Even though you could never guess what new dangers would emerge from the depths of the city, you knew the citizens of Seoul could always rely on you. And at the end of the day, that’s what made you truly happy: helping others. It’s why you became a lawyer and it’s also why you donned the identity of Nyx.

Dipping your fingers in a pot of black face paint, you drew a crescent moon facing up on your forehead. You quickly put on your black gloves and pulled up the blue neck of your shirt so it covered your mouth and nose.  You stared at yourself in the mirror and didn’t recognize yourself; you only saw the beloved dark knight of Seoul city: Nyx. Grabbing your two daggers that were sheathed in black leather, you climbed out of your bedroom window. The only benefit of living in an apartment without a balcony was that right next to your window was the fire escape stairs, leading directly to the roof of your building. 

You peered down at Seoul, not seeing the beauty you had just seen from Jimin’s penthouse window, but rather witnessing the darkness and destruction that was slowly consuming the city. Your thoughts were interrupted when you saw the distinct crescent moon symbol that was flipped to form a “U" flash into the dark sky, the symbol of Nyx. It was coming from the Seoul City Police Department and you knew exactly who had signaled it.

You grabbed the nylon rope tucked into your pocket and pulled out a small metal tin. You clicked a button on the side of the tin, transforming it into a grappling hook. After securing the hook on the roof ledge, you rappelled down the building, safely landing on the ground. Tucking the rope and hook into your pockets, you made your way to the building’s garage where your beloved motorcycle was waiting for you.

You hopped on the bike and drove for what seemed like 10 minutes before arriving in front of the police department. You made use of your rope and grappling hook again, as you scaled the building to get to the roof. There, you saw a man with his back towards you wearing a long, black trench coat. 

“Detective Kim,” you called to the man, standing anxiously by the large spotlight with the Nyx symbol plastered on it. 

“Nyx,” he said whipping his head in the direction of your voice, “Good to see you. It’s been awhile.” 

It had been awhile. Detective Kim Seokjin had been only a small-time detective at the SCPD when you first started out. After realizing you both had the same goals and wishes for this city, you and Detective Kim decided to work together, confiding each other in your missions and reports on crime. 

You nodded, “Seoul has been quiet. Too quiet.”

“Isn’t that good?”

“Maybe. Or maybe it means I’m missing something.”

“Missing what?”

“I’m not sure yet. And that’s what makes me afraid.”

“Never thought I would hear those words from the hero of Seoul.”

“I’m not a hero. I’m just doing what I can.”

“The people of Seoul love you. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed, but I don’t want them to depend on me.”

“Why? Planning a vacation?” he said teasingly.

“Maybe. This really isn't my day job. Can’t be Nyx all the time.” you said, smiling.

“Anyways, I wanted to update you on something that’s been going on. We’ve kept it out of the news so far but with how things are going, I have a feeling that this will make headlines soon. People at the office wanted to take care of it ourselves but I can’t stand by any longer. We need your help.” Detective Kim said handing you a tan file folder. 

You rifled through the file as he continued to speak, “There have been 2 robberies at the two major banks, Bank of Seoul and Seoul Holdings Inc.”

“When did they happen?”

“Bank of Seoul was yesterday afternoon and Seoul Holdings was two days before.”

“Any leads?”

“We think it might be mob related.”

You looked up from the papers to meet Jin’s concerned eyes, “We cleaned up the mob.”

“Maybe they resurfaced, or maybe this is something entirely new we are dealing with.”

“Any idea of where they’re going to hit next?”

“We think Seoul United.”

“Have a unit there at all times. Make sure they keep track of who is coming in and out. Based on these two robberies, the next one is going to happen soon.”

“Got it. I’ll form a team and get them down there as soon as possible.” 

You had reached the end of file when a small business card slipped out and fell to the ground. You knelt down and picked it up, flipping to the front of the card, expecting to see the business card of one of the banks. But it was just a blank card with a demented looking smiley face drawn in blood red ink.

“What’s this?”

“Right. I almost forgot. We found that in the empty bank vault at the Bank of Seoul.”

“Did you have labs run an analysis on this?”

“Yep. They found nothing. No fingerprints, no trace of anything on the card. Completely blank.”

“What about the ink?”

“It’s ink. Not blood.”

“Find out what exact ink this is. Maybe it can give us a lead on something.”

Jin nodded as you handed the file back to him. You grabbed onto your grappling hook. But before you slipped back into the darkness you called out to him, “Keep me posted.”

☙

Waking up was too hard. You were far from a morning person, hitting snooze on your phone alarm until the last possible minute. Between seeing Jimin and meeting Detective Kim, you got a total of four hours of sleep, which was not nearly enough for your strenuous schedule. After hitting snooze for the fourth time, you had to scramble to get ready. You quickly brushed your teeth, washed your face, and combed your hair before changing into a black pantsuit. Slipping your laptop into your leather messenger bag, you blindly grabbed for your keys as you headed out the door, almost stumbling in your black heels. 

You made it to your office just in time, but because of your tardiness in the morning, you weren’t able to get any caffeine. You sighed, blowing the escaped strands of hair from out of your face, you knew it was going to be a long day. You opened your office door and saw your long time best friend sitting at her desk, opposite of yours. 

“Hey ______! Rough morning?” she said, chuckling at your state.

“Hey Sana,” you replied, giving her a quick hug. “ More like a rough night.”

“Who’s the lucky guy? I saw that Park Jimin is back in town,” she said teasingly, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Don’t even get me fucking started. “ You said groaning as you sat down at your desk.

“You went to his party?” she said shocked. “You know, I’m still offended he didn’t invite me. And after all we went through in college. I wrote so many essays for that punk—” 

“I didn’t want to go. He called me. Drunk off his ass.”

“Oh my god, really?” Sana said, pausing her rant about how ungrateful Jimin was and opted to lean forward in her seat to her what you had to say.

“Yeah and he asked me to come over.”

“So did you?”

“I did.”

“______!” She gasped at your actions.

“It’s complicated. But I went over and saw him.”

“What did he want?”

“Nothing. Or well he wanted to talk to me. See me I guess. He apologized.”

“For what? For leaving and not telling you? For breaking your hea—”

“For leaving Sana. He apologized for being gone for six years and for not calling me once.”

“What, he just said sorry and expected you to forgive him?” 

“Yeah I guess,” you said shrugging.

“Men are so fucking stupid.”

‘Tell me about it. Anyways, then I ended up meeting Detective Kim. Well, Nyx did.”

“Damn, you had a long night. What did he say?”

“He said there's been a couple of robberies, one at Bank of Seoul and the other at Seoul Holdings. They think Seoul United is next.”

“What's the plan?”

“He’s gonna set up a unit there to keep watch 24/7.”

“And what's our plan?”

You smiled at her words, “I was hoping Team Nyx could help me out.”

☙

After a long day at the office and figuring out a plan for the bank robberies, you were completely drained and wanted to do nothing except curl up in your bed and watch Netflix. You got home, kicked off your heels, dropped your messenger bag to the ground, and started to walk to your bedroom, thinking about which episode of New Girl you were going to watch. 

Suddenly, the doorbell rang, interrupting your train of thought. You wondered who would show up at your place unannounced at this time. You looked through the peephole of your door to see none other than Park Jimin holding a bouquet of roses. You stepped back from the door exasperated. You thought you had been clear of your hatred for him the other night.

You felt your heart beating slightly faster. Stop it, you chided yourself. It was evident from the other night that Jimin was still the same: a player and a liar. There was no place in your already busy life for someone as reckless as Jimin; you needed to focus and Jimin was an unnecessary distraction. 

You opened the door to Jimin, his hair tousled from the wind. He was wearing a black blazer, with a black shirt tucked into a pair of, you guessed it, black jeans.

“Hi,” was all he said, standing in your doorway and giving his signature smile.

“What are you doing here Jimin?” you said, crossing your arms across your chest. 

“I just wanted to explain myself again. Our talk last night didn’t go as I hoped.”

“And what exactly were you hoping for?” you snarkily.

“Forgiveness?” his wide eyes locked onto yours. 

“Jimin...”  you started to trail off. 

“I’m sorry ______. I told you, I wanted to call you but I just couldn’t.” 

“That’s such bullshit,” you started to close the door but Jimin caught it, pushing it aside to step into your apartment. He closed the door behind him, and he glanced around your apartment, taking in the place before looking back at you.

“______ please, trust me. If I could have called you even for one second just to hear your voice, I would have.” 

You looked into his eyes and saw his sincerity. You didn’t know what to think. You wanted to believe him so badly.

“I—” you started to say but Jimin cut you off.

“I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, you know that,” Jimin said looking at you intensely. “Can you please forgive me?”

You didn’t want to fight with Jimin anymore. As much as you hated him for what he did, you missed your best friend. And deep down, you knew he was right, that he would never hurt you.

You let out a deep sigh, “Okay Jimin, I forgive you.”

Jimin once again gives his charming smile. He looked like he was about to hug you but refrained himself from doing so. Instead, he handed you the bouquet of roses he had been holding, “For you.”

You were so caught up in your fight with Jimin that you didn’t register the peculiar color of the roses until he handed them to you. They were black roses. The color was as dark as the night sky. You looked at Jimin then back to the flowers. There was no way he would have known right? There were only two people who knew that you were Nyx. Jimin just came back from Seoul so he couldn't possibly know.

“Why black?” you asked carefully, studying his expression and body language for any clues that suggested he knew of your secret identity.

Jimin just shrugged in response. “It’s your favorite color.”

“You still remember?” you asked incredulously, shaking your head.

“You’re a hard person to forget,” Jimin said quietly. He took a step closer to you and you suddenly registered the nonexistent distance between the two of you. You felt his hot breath fanning your face and you felt like your heart was pounding so hard he could feel it. Jimin tilted your chin up so that you were forced to look at him, staring into his brown eyes. You shivered at the contact of his cold fingers against your skin. He looked at your lips before looking back at your wide eyes, silently asking for your permission. 

“I can’t,” you whispered apologetically, trying to push his hand away.

Jimin caught your hands, his metal rings pressing into your hands, as he tried to catch your gaze, “Why not?”

You finally meet his eyes looking at you imploringly, waiting for an answer. 

“I have a boyfriend,” you choked out, knowing those exact words would be like venom to him. 

Jimin immediately let go of your hands at that moment. His expression hardened and he clenched his jaw: his telltale sign of anger. He walked away from you to sit on the navy blue sofa in your living room, spreading his legs as he sat down.

“I see,” he said coldly. 

“You can’t be mad at me. That’s not fair.” You said irritated, turning around to look at him.

“I never said I was mad,” he said, staring at the wooden flooring, not meeting your eyes.

“Jimin, you left. You left for six years and you didn’t tell me. What was I supposed to do? Wait around for you?”

“I just—” Jimin ran his fingers through his hair with frustration before letting his face rest in his hands. “I just thought things would be the same when I came back.” He said helplessly.

“Well, you thought wrong.” you quipped, crossing your arms over your chest, looking away. 

Jimin was quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I’m happy for you. Really. I would love to meet him.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” You scoffed.

“C’mon, we should try to move forward. At least be friends again.”

“Jimin, I just need some time. You can’t just show up in my life unexpectedly and expect everything to be the same. It doesn’t work that way.” You sighed. You opened the door for him, a silent indicator that he should leave. Jimin glanced at the door and your tired expression. 

He got up from where he was sitting and made his way towards the door,  “I understand ______. But know that I’m here for you. Anytime. I just want you back in my life again.”

He looked at you one more time before heading out, leaving you at the doorway as you clutched the black roses. You watched from the window as he got into his car, ignoring how the crushed petals slowly fluttered to the ground.

authors’ note: guysss this is @jimins-filter first posted fic (ah!). so there might be a few things that are a bit confusing in text but if you wanna see references as to how we came up with nyx’s character, Elektra’s costume and fighting style from Daredevil (the Netflix TV show) was a major inspo for Nyx, additionally we did take some style inspo (the crescent moon symbol on the forehead) from the Painted Lady from ATLA. We are super excited for this fic and hope you guys will love it. This is VERY different from strawberry girl so this is something different for me as well. give a follow to @jimins-filter her blog is aesthetic af. ty for reading and let us know what you think so far! 💜💜

[wayward-mikaelson]

His Little Sister

Word Count: 2041

Pairing: Jared x Reader

Characters: Reader, Jensen, Jared, Alex, Rich, Misha (Mentioned)

About: The Reader works on the set of Supernatural where her big brother Jensen stars along side his best friend Jared. The Reader has developed a major crush on Jared. The Reader somehow lands a roll on the show. A role that plays Sam Winchesters love interest which big brother Jensen isn’t too thrilled about.

Disclaimer: Language, Angst, Mention of depression, Mention of car accident, Implied Smut

Disclaimer 2: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Gen at all. I love her to death and respect that marriage between her and Jared. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

A/N: Tag all your SPN accounts

A/N 2: Tag any Sam/Jared Stans so they can see this

A/N 3: Should I write a Part 2? I feel Like there should be a part 2...Jensen find out his sister and best friend are sleeping together while at a convention maybe? YOU TELL ME!!!!

Forever Tag List: @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @hobby27​ @magssteenkamp​ @elansaidaris​ @440mxs-wife​ 

*18+ CONTENT. ANYONE YOUNGER THAN THAT WILL NEED TO MOVE ON. I DON’T WANT TO RISK MY ACCOUNT BEING THANOSED.

**PLEASE DO NOT COPY AND PASTE MY WORK ANYWHERE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND WITHOUT GIVING ME THE PROPER CREDIT. I WORK TOO HARD ON MY WORK TO HAVE IT STOLEN. YOU CAN COPY AND PASTE THE LINK.

***THIS WORK IS ALSO POSTED ON IG, WATTPAD, AO3 SO PLEASE GO SO IT SOME LOVE OVER THERE

****FOLLOW ME ON IG, WATTPAD, AO3, AND TWITTER

*****DMS ARE OPEN FOR REQUESTS

"And...cut," Rich yells next to me. "That's a wrap! That was perfect!" I watch from the sidelines as he gets up from his directors chair. I watch as he makes his way towards Jensen and Jared. "Okay, now, I know it's late and everyone wants to get some sleep but, I want to run something pass you guys first." Rich pulls the two off set and outside. I look at the time on my phone and see that it's almost one in the morning.

"Want to head to my trailer for a drink?" Alex is next to me. He's still in his Jack outfit and still looking like a 16 year old boy who hasn't grown facial hair yet. He's been pinning after me for the last few years since I started working on the set of Supernatural. Everyone knew it too. Even my big brother, Jensen did. But I didn't feel that way towards Alex.

"Alex," I sigh. "Not tonight." I start to gather my things and make my way towards my brothers trailer. I normally stay at a hotel unless we have nights like this.

"Another time then?" Alex asks after me.

"She's not into you man," Jensen come up behind us hold some papers. "I could have told you that. I practically know who she's into." True, I think, but not this time. I couldn't tell him who it was because it was his best friend.

Ever since I started working on set, I saw Jared differently. He was no longer my brothers best friend to me. He was this funny and smart attractive man that smiled every time our eyes met. He even looks at me differently. Not the 'that's Jensen's baby sister' look. The look he give me always makes me blush. I would like to think Jared's into me but he was always going on some date with some chick.

"Sorry, Alex," I walk off with Jensen.

"It's all good," Alex walks off as well.

"You really should get back into dating," Jensen says handing me the papers in his hands as we walked to his trailer. "Anyway, we should talk about this."

I look at the papers. "It's a script," I say giving my brother a weird look.

Jensen wraps an arm around my shoulder. "Yeah, it's your script. The original chick who was casted as Opheila quit today. Rich and the others think you're perfect for the job."

I choke on whatever saliva is in my mouth. "My what?!" I exclaim pushing my brother away. "No! I haven't acted since my accident. And that was a year before I even took this job to help out on set."

Some years ago, I had a small but recurring role on the show Riverdale. In between filming and visiting home one day, I got into a bad car accident. My entire left leg was busted up and needed screws and rods. I was put out of work for months and my character on Riverdale was written and killed off. I was depressed because of it and then out of the blue Jensen pulled strings to get me back to work. My life was just starting to come back together and my limp was nearly gone too.

"I know," Jensen grabs my shoulder. "This could be your comeback. Give it a shot and if you don't like it, that's fine and Rich can suck my dick and get a new actress."

No one, and I mean no one, hyped me up and supported me and encouraged me like Jensen did. "Okay, here's to a comeback" I smile and Jensen pulls me into a hug. "Why did Rich want to talk to Jared as well?"

Jensen was quiet for a few minutes. "Well, this character we've been told, becomes a love interest of Sams."

I stop walking. "I see," It's a good thing it's dark because I can feel my face burning. Hot. "How does Jared feel about that?" I'm genuinely curious.

"Oh he's cool with it," Jensen continues to walking. I can tell that part of it is bugging him.

"And you?" I grab his arm and turn him around. "You don't seem or look to thrilled."

Jensen made a face. "I'm thrilled you got this roll. I've been dying to see you back in action acting again. I mean look at you. Beautiful and that limp you always complained about is gone. I just am having a hard time seeing my baby sister and best friend get friendly on camera."

I laugh out loud. I'm sure it's the fact that I am God awfully tired. "It'll be our characters getting close, not us." I hook my arm into his and we walk the rest of the way to the trailer.

"Rich is giving everyone the weekend off so we can focus on these lines." Jensen holds the trailer door open. Filming will start on Monday."

"Oi, that soon? Guess we get some sleep and start first thing."

Over the next few weeks, I learned more about my character. Ophiela, was also a hunter who hunted with the Winchesters a few times in the past. She and Sam also had a nice fun filled night before they lost contact. Turns out my character was going to be in the remaining season. Which to my surprise Jared was excited about. That kind of confused Jensen and made me blush hard that I had to find a way to hide my face from them all.

Getting back into acting wasn't hard. Acting with Misha around was hard. I never wanted to strangle someone so bad for purposefully trying to mess me up. I started to feel more and more myself behind the camera and delivering lines. Jensen even mentioned to me one night that I was getting that glow in my eyes when I acted. Rich was even impressed with my acting. About a month after taking the role and making it my own, we are about to wrap a scene where Sam and Ophiela are arguing. Our on set chemistry was fire. Everyone loved it.

Jared slams a book on the bunker set table. "What happened if we got there too late and found you dead?"

I lean over the table. "Then I would have died, Sam. You can't control that. Hell you can't even control your temper when it comes to my safety. Now if you will, I am going to wash off this hunt and go to bed." I take a few steps and Jared grabs my upper arm. "What the hell, Sam?"

"You don't see it do you," Jared starts to pull me towards him. Knowing whats going to happen, I can't help but feel nervous and giddy all at the same time. Jared has me up against his chest sweeping loose hair from my face. "I can't loose you." He cups my face and starts to pull me close when something loud crashes in the distance.

"Uh, sorry, about that," Jensen says picking up whatever he knocked over. Jared and I step away and I see irritation on his face.

"That was so perfect!" Rich whines from the directors chair. "Jensen, dammit, you need to be more careful." Rich comes around the corner. "I guess we pick this up tomorrow." Then he leaves.

"I'm going to go to my trailer," Jared walks off and I feel his hand slip out of mine and I realize that we had still been holding hands. I watch as he walks away.

"I really am sorry," Jensen says standing next to me. I look at him and I don't see a single regret about the incident on his face. He did that on purpose. That bastard.

"What the fuck, Jay?!" I ask pushing him. "The scene was going smoothly and it was perfect and you ruined it." I storm off leaving Jensen staring after me with a confused look on his face.

I walk way passed the trailer I share with Jensen. I walk pass Misha's trailer, Alex's trailer, and so on until I find myself standing at Jared trailer door. My heart is pounding as I hesitate to knock on his door. I don't what possessed me to go to his trailer but here I am.

"Jared," I knock on his door. "It's me."

The door opens and there stands Jared. In a t-shirt. "Hey," he says with a small smile. "Is your brother around?" The way he said brother confirmed he is just as irritated with him as I am.

"No, he's on set still or going to the local bar," I smile. "Can I come in?" Jared's small smile gets bigger. He steps aside and I walk into his trailer. It's neat and clean. I've only been in here a few times for only a few minutes. "I'm sorry, my brother can be a real dick sometimes." I say sitting on his small couch.

Jared grabs two beers, opens one and hands me it. "Yes he can be," He takes a sip of his beer. "The scene was perfect and going so smoothly." He sits next to me. I can't help but look the muscle in his arm that was close to brushing up on mine.

"It really was," I take a drink of my beer. "Our characters were about to have an amazing moment." I glance at Jared who's looking at me with those same eyes he was giving me on set.

"They can still have that moment," I see Jareds hand slide towards mine and without thinking I take hold of it. "Just without a camera." He adds taking his thumb and rubbing it my hand.

I blush and smile. "They totally can," I manage to out in a whisper.

Jared starts to lean in towards me. My heart is racing so I take a deep breath and close my eyes. Jared's head meets mine and he rests there breathing deeply. He's as nervous as me. I open my eyes and see he's staring deep into them. It's like my soul connects with his. It feels right. It's perfect. Licking my lip, I tilt my head up and press my lips to his.

The moment that they touch, every part of my body turns to jello. Jared lets go of my hand to cup my face and hold it to his. When his tongue pushes pass my lips and starts to explore my mouth, the beer bottle in my hand slips out of my hand and onto the floor with a loud clang. I pull back to pick it up but Jared pulls me back to him.

"Don't worry about that," I hear him set his beer down and use that hand to pull me onto his lap. Both legs rest on either side of his. I feel his erection pressing through his jeans and mine. I relax more of my weight and roll my hips against his. With a small but deep growl, Jared's lips land on mine again. Picking me and setting me on the small trailer counter.

I wrap my legs around him to keep him between me. I feel him press himself firmly into my jeans and I can feel how wet I am already for him. I moan into his mouth as he does it again. Jared pulls back and whips his shirt off. I do the same and unclasp the bra I am wearing. "You like what you see?"  I ask as Jared stares at bare chest.

"Do I?" He leans in and brushes his lips from my cheek to my ear where he nips just below. I suck in a deep breath. "I fucking think it's beautiful." He wraps his arm around me and carries me to his bed where he plops me down on the bed. He stares down at me as he takes his pants off. "Now, why don't we see how quiet you can be while I fuck you hard into this mattress."

[newcaptainofsquad9]

So When Can We Tell The World?{6} Min Yoongi x black! fem! reader~Final

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 

Pairing: Yoongi x reader

Genre: Angst, Romance, Smut, Idol AU

Summary: After figuring out Yoongi’s mistake, you try to make it through the rest of the night at the Grammys away from Yoongi. However, it turns out that you needed time with Yoongi before you actually needed space from him.   

Word Count: 21, 777

Warnings: Smut in this chapter and so much angst.

Author’s Note: All right ya’ll the last part, I hope ya’ll have enjoyed this series and let me know your thoughts on it. I’ve been thinking of writing a prequel and even a sequel with this story, so let me know of your thoughts on that as well.  

Katie was able to talk me down from leaving the Staples Center early. ‘Enjoy the show’, she says. ‘Maybe you’ll win’, she tells me. I’m now seated between Taehyung and Namjoon, only after begging Jimin to switch seats with me. I would be sitting beside Yoongi right now, yet I don’t think I can bear it, at least right now. 

He told me the truth. Big Hit released a statement a few days about us, it’s all over the internet and the entirety of Twitter. For the first time in history I’m trending number one, yet my heart doesn’t feel full. It’s slumped down further against my rib-cage as I scroll through Twitter, more specifically ARMY Twitter. 

A few of the comments about Yoongi and I are fine, a little flattering even.

Some of them read:

Yoongi and Y/N looked so amazing on stage, looks like tuning in for the Grammys was worth it.

Yoongi not only collaborated with a powerful rapper and singer, he also managed to date her. Ahem Namjoon it’s your turn 😎.

Did you see the way Yoongi stares at Y/N? And ya’ll say they aren’t really dating. smh Some of ya’ll don’t know what love is and it shows. 

The more I scroll, the more hateful it becomes. Not much for Yoongi, how could they bash him? In their eyes he could do no wrong, even though he blabbered about us in front of the entire world. I swallow a heavy lump as the comments pierce me. 

They read:

Apparently this isn’t a fucking joke and Yoongi isn’t dating a Korean woman like I thought. What does Y/N Y/L/N have that a Korean woman doesn’t? 

I mean of course Yoongi would date a black woman, he is from the ghetto, it’s what he’s used to.

I’m sure Y/N’s problematic. Let’s dig something up ARMY! Maybe her address? I just wanna have a discussion with her.

“Y/N?” Namjoon asks, breaking me from my phone screen. 

I glance over to see his face clouded in concern. 

“What are you looking at?” Taehyung asks while craning his head down in my screen.

I turn the screen away before tucking it away safely in my my purse by my feet. 

“Nothing,” I whisper, “just n-nothing.” 

Namjoon nudges my shoulder. 

“I saw it Y/N,” he says, “just the haters, ignore them.”

“It’s kind of hard to Joon,” I say, “your ARMY aren’t people to play with, you of all people should know that.”

Taehyung shrugs. 

“The ones saying that aren’t true ARMY,” he notes, “we’re here for you and Yoongi hyung, ok?”

Namjoon nods sharply. 

“Enjoy the rest of the show, ok? Look, they’re about to announce the next category!” Namjoon exclaims prior to pointing up at the stage.

My eyes follow up as John Legend strolls up to the mic with an envelope in hand. He reads off the nominees for ‘Song Of The Year’ as each song, along with it’s music video flashed the huge screen behind him. 

It’s difficult to keep the tears back, however I do with power I never thought I had. Watching our video for ‘All The Crown Players’ tied the knot already in my stomach even tighter. All I want to do is leave, yet I can’t. I can’t do that to the people who helped me get here, hell I worked to get her too. Even for Yoongi. No matter how I feel about him, I can’t let him down like that. He may have done it to me, but I wouldn’t do that to him. 

“And the Grammy goes to.......’All The Crown Players!’ Y/N Y/L/N and Min Yoongi!!”

I freeze. Namjoon, Taehyung, Jin, Hoseok and Jungkook all popped up, screaming in my ear as they grab at me. Jimin does the same with Yoongi, who’s eyes are blown wide and lost. He manages to get to the aisle while Jungkook gently pushes me towards him. Yoongi forces a tiny grin as he nods up to the stage. I notice the make up around his eyes look more fresh than the spots around his cheekbones. He cried. 

“Y/N!Yoongi! Go on!” Namjoon shouts. 

On a spur I take Yoongi’s hand, surprising us both and walk towards the stage.

Once we get up there I shake hands with John and thank him. 

“Congratulations guys,” he says, “you’ve earned it.”

Yoongi shakes his hand as well then bows. We take each of Grammys respectively and step towards the mic.

“You go ahead first, Y/N,” Yoongi says. 

I nod and wave towards the audience. 

“I’d like to thank everyone who supported us! My manager Katie, my brother Kevin, my fans, ARMY! Everyone! Thank you so much for this!” I scream. 

The crowd roars and I could have sworn the guys were the loudest. Of course they were.  I pull away from the mic to let Yoongi go ahead. He flashes another small smile, pats the small of my back and goes to say what he has to. 

“Thank you ARMY! This is only the beginning! More Grammys will come, I promise my fellow members will be up here with me for it!” he declares. 

Yoongi pauses to blink through teary, reddening eyes before turning to me. 

“I-I just want to thank Y/N for working with me and-”

My heart sinks down even further as Yoongi breaks down completely while sobbing into his hand. I pull him towards me as he trembles against my chest. 

“Thank you,” I say. 

We leave the stage and move backstage. Yoongi still clings to me, saying those heart wrenching words over and over again. Even after Namjoon manages to calm him down, they still rush around my head. 

Please forgive me Y/N, I’m so sorry.

  * * *

The soft sheets of my hotel bedroom are soft, comfy and extremely accommodating, yet my mind can’t seem to unwind. Not with Yoongi’s tear stained face clogging my memory. I had to keep my phone out of sight to keep from reading Yoongi’s constant messages. I told him that I needed space before we have a proper conversation right now. My head space isn’t there yet, and I don’t think his is there either. 

Just when I start to slip under the covers and relax my phone vibrates yet again. A groan escapes me as I rise, throw the covers off and retrieve my phone from under the basket my room service nachos came in. 

What I saw wasn’t another text from Yoongi, but a missed call from Namjoon. I quickly call him back and press the phone to my ear. 

“Hello? Y/N?” Namjoon answers.

“Hey Joon, is everything all right?”

He releases a heavy sigh before answering right back.

“It’s about Yoongi, “ he says, “have you talked to him? 

My skin flares in equal parts anger and heartbreak. 

“No,” I admit, “I told him I needed space, I really haven’t read most of the messages.”

“Well, he hasn’t eaten anything, no matter how hard we try,” Namjoon says. 

I pinch the bridge of my nose as a shaky breath comes out of me. The words spill out before I can get a clamp on them. 

“Put Yoongi on the phone, please Joon,” I whisper. 

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Namjoon mutters. 

There’s some scratching noises, a few mumbles and footsteps. Namjoon utters something in Korean before going quiet as more loud footsteps can be heard. Yoongi lets out a deep breath, forcing me to brace myself.

“Hey,” he croaks.

His voice sounds strained, lower than it usually is. 

“You have to eat Yoongi,”  I say. 

“Ok,” he says.

He barely whispers it, worrying me even more. 

“Are you ok?”

“No, I’m not,” Yoongi says, “my head isn’t right, I can’t eat, not without thinking about how much I fucked up.”

I bite down on my bottom lip at the emotion in his voice.

“It’s ok Yoongi-”

“No, Y/N it isn’t!” he growls.

The change in his voice forces me to sit up. My mouth is already moving before I can think, the weight of what unfolded tonight makes my blood boil.

“I’m sick of this!” 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean,” Yoongi counters. 

“I’m tired of everything! The arguing, the decisions that have been made-the fans, all of it!” 

My voice cracks as tears fill my eyes again. God, it’s so hard. I love him too much, if only I was a little cold hearted, it’d be easier to do this. 

“I know,” Yoongi groans. 

“Yoongi, please eat and get some rest,” I say, “for me. I’ll meet you at your hotel to talk, that sound good?”

“Ok,” he whispers, “I’ll try.” 

There’s a pause, I expect him to say something but the call ends. 

My chest tightens as I rest my phone on the nightstand by the bed. 

He didn’t even say I love you. The tears flow on their own. 

* * *

If there’s one thing Yoongi and the guys taught me throughout our times together (well besides solidifying a strong foundation of self love within myself) it’s being incognito. Yoongi gifted me my own cool, white face mask a few years ago when I traveled to Korea to record a few songs with him and the guys. This is my third time using it since there’s hella paparazzi outside of their hotel and I don’t need anymore scandals for one week. 

Once on their floor I can’t help but hold the coffee cup in my hand tighter. There’s a strange howl. It’s got to be one of the guys, Yoongi said this floor was reversed for them, along with their managers, I hope everything's all right. I get to the door and give it a few tentative knocks. 

Jin answers it with a relieved sigh. 

“Y/N, finally someone here that has some sense,” he says. 

“Hi Jin, do you know what that howling noise was-”

I get cut off by Jungkook bellowing a deep battle cry. 

“WOOO! Told you I could swamp you Tae!”

I peek my head around the corner to see Jungkook pumping his fist in the air and Taehyung tossing his controller onto the carpet. 

“Whatever,” he grumbles as he stands. 

“Y/N, hey,” Taehyung says rather awkwardly. 

“Hey Tae-”

“Thank God you’re finally here,” Jimin groans as he strolls into the room, “please talk to Yoongi-hyung, he’s been moody all night.”

I raise an eyebrow as Jimin, Jungkook, Taehyung, Jin, Namjoon and Hoseok all slip on their hoodies, coats and masks. 

“Where are you guys going?” I ask. 

“Out,” Hoseok says matter of factually.   

Namjoon hums. 

“You,” he points at me as he speaks, “are going to deal with Yoongi-hyung while we leave you to it.” 

Taehyung flashes me a boxy smile as he nods to the cup of coffee in my hand.

“Iced Americano?” he asks. 

I nod. 

“Well, that’s one way to start,” Jin says, “bye.” 

He’s the first one out and the others aren’t far behind. Namjoon remains. He steps towards me to rub my shoulders gently. 

“He loves you,” Namjoon says, “and I know you love him. You got this, ok?”

I nod and Namjoon grins, dimples appearing because of course they do. 

“Good luck,” he says before leaving and shutting the door in the process. 

* * *

The coffee in my hand feels frigid against my palm as I wonder around the huge hotel suite. I texted Yoongi moments after the guys left, letting him know that I’m here. He gives me no answer, left on read as I wonder around looking for him. 

“Hey,” a voice croaks. 

I turn on my heels to see Yoongi. He’s bare faced and fresh even with his slight frown. His light blonde hair sweeps across his forehead beautifully, he sports an old concert hoodie and grey sweats. Like yesterday, I want to jump into his arms, yet there’s more restrain with me today. 

“I got you your favorite,” I say and hold out the coffee towards him. 

Yoongi raises an eyebrow prior to walking towards me, closing the distance between us both. 

“Iced Americano? Y/N you didn’t have to,” he grumbles. 

“No, Yoongi, I wanted to,” I say, “you look like you could use the pick me up.”

Yoongi stares at me for a moment eyes boring into my own before they sweep down to the coffee in my hand. He takes it. 

“Thank you.”

He leads me to his bedroom. 

“You can take the bed or the chair if you want,” he suggests. 

I look over the messy white sheets of his bed, but opt for the small lounging chair directly across from it. Yoongi flops on the edge of his bed, eyes drawn to the floor as he places the coffee by his foot. 

“How’s the coffee?” I ask. 

Yoongi shrugs. 

“Fine, a few extra sugars would make it better,” he says, “but it’s fine.”

“Ok,” I say, “were you able to eat at all last night?”

Yoongi’s lips quirk into a tiny smile. 

“A little,” he admits. 

I nod and play with the chair’s armrests. Silence washes over us. I can feel Yoongi’s eyes on me, why isn’t he saying anything? Why can’t I say anything? We’re here to talk, so why can’t I do that simple thing? Is it because of what happened last night? We won a Grammy last night. We should be celebrating yet, here we are lost in silence. 

“It’s being taken care of,” Yoongi blurts. 

“What is?” I ask. 

He sits up and plays with his hands in his lap. 

“The hate comments,” he says, “Big Hit can take legal action against them.”

I scoff at his words. 

“Do you know how many hate comments there are, Yoongi?”

Yoongi stands.

“I know it’s overwhelming, but it can be done,” he says.

“Yoongi-”

“Just let me fix this!” he yells, “please.”

I blink as he’s now closer, up and standing in front of me with pleading eyes. 

“You can’t fix this Yoongi,” I say, “the damage is done, and they aren’t being toxic towards you, it’s all on me.”

Yoongi kneels down in front of me, his eyes flooding with tears. 

“That doesn’t matter, you’re my girlfriend,” he says, “it affects me. Does that even matter to you?”

“Of course it does!” I growl, “all I ever did was care about what you wanted! I wasn’t comfortable with going public and I still felt bad for you! Yes I’m your girlfriend, but does my opinion even matter!”

“You know it does Y/N,”  he says.

I laugh, stand and step past him. 

“That’s hard to believe since you didn’t think about the consequences,” I say, “after I told you it wouldn’t work out as smoothly as you thought.”

“Well it’s out!” Yoongi shouts, “maybe if you just ignore the comments it wouldn’t be so bad!”

My heart hammers against my ribs as the tears roll don’t my cheeks. Is he hearing himself right now? 

“Y/N-”

“I got death threats Yoongi,” I sob, “how the fuck am I supposed to ignore that!”

His eyes soften as he approaches, wrapping his arms around my waist to pull me close. I try to push him away, yet it’s futile as his strong embrace draws me in as the sobs continue. Words bubble up in my throat, but the sobs that wrack my body defeat them as Yoongi pulls me as close as he can. 

“Shhh,” he coos, “I’ll protect you, I promise, Y/N. I promise.”

His lips brush against my forehead as he leads me towards the bed. I giggle through the tears at how messy his bed is, in this moment I don’t even know why. 

“Are you ok?” he asks.

“No, I don’t think I am.” 

Yoongi frowns before gesturing to the bed. 

“Lay down, if you want,” he says, “get comfortable, let’s talk.”

I allow myself to fall against the soft, satin sheets, eyes fluttering close at the feeling. The bed dips, Yoongi’s body shifts until I feel him right beside me. My eyes open to see his soft expression; eyes still soft, hair falling further against his forehead, almost over his eyes. His mouth stays in a fixed frown as his hand reaches out to my face. 

“C-Can I touch you?” he barely whispers. 

I nod and scoot until we’re an inch a part. Yoongi opens his mouth a few times, however he doesn’t speak. All he does is stroke my arms lovingly and stare at me. It’s nice, a change of pace from our constant arguments lately. The circumstances could be different, but in this moment I’m content. 

“Be honest with me, Y/N,” he says, “do you-”

He pauses to purse his lips as his eyes water. I hold his hand and gently stroke his knuckles. 

“Yoongi, it’s ok,” I say, “tell me.”

Yoongi sniffs, face contorting in pain as he tries to get himself together. 

My heart breaks at this, of course I’ve seen him raw and emotional before but it wasn’t at this level. He’s never broken down this hard in front of me, I can’t help but let my own tears fall because of it. 

“Y/N, d-do you want to break up with me?” he asks. 

The words slip, so does his tears. His body heaves, rocks and trembles as he buries is face into the sheets below. My hands find his back, he tenses up, then relaxes as his sobs start to lessen. He turns over with a heavy sigh, eyes red and damp once our eyes meet again. My thumbs rush up to wipe the tears for him as he chuckles lowly. 

“I-I’m sorry I’m such a fucking mess I-”

I silence his words with a kiss, forcing him to freeze before he gradually returns it. Our lips move through unwanted tears, along with soft touches until Yoongi pulls back to look at me. 

“D-Do you want us to be over?” he asks. 

I shake my head. 

“No, Yoongi, I don’t,” I declare, “we need time from each other though.”

Yoongi nods. 

“We go back to Korea tomorrow,” he says, “this might be the last time you see me for a while.”

“I-I had a feeling. Yoongi-”

“Y/N-” 

Yoongi chuckles when we cut each other off. 

“Y/N, you can go first.”

 “Yoongi, I love you, I-I just wanted you to know that. It just felt like you didn’t believe me when you asked if I wanted to break up.”

Yoongi plays with my fingers and shakes his head. 

“You know I believe you,” he says, “I just, I thought I screwed things up for us big time but I’m glad I didn’t. “ 

“Were you serious about dealing with those hate comments?”

Yoongi nods sharply. 

“Yes, and those people who wrote those things aren’t fans,” he says, “a true ARMY respects us, everything about us.”

His voice is laced with so much passion, my heart swells, in a good way this time. Our eyes stay connected as we kiss once more. Yoongi moans into it, head lulling back as his hands make their way down my sides, brushing underneath my hoodie. 

“What are you feeling for Yoongi,” I say against his lips.

Yoongi ducks his head into the crook of my neck, pulling me so that I straddle him.

“I missed you, I’m going to miss you when I leave,” he whines, “I watched you all last night in that dress, urging for your touch.”

I giggle at his words.

“But we did touch, held hands even.”

“You know what I mean,” he grumbles, “only if you want to, that is?”

Yoongi pulls back with an adorable, inquisitive stare. The dryness under his eyes remains from his tears, yet the easy going, soft stare he’d usually give me is back and I can’t help but kiss him again. 

“Yes, Yoongi,” I say, “you can touch me, can I touch you?”

“Please Y/N, I’m yours.”

We kiss, bodies pressed against each other: me flushed down on Yoongi’s while he presses himself against me. My fingers move to his hoodie, he lifts it to help me get it off quickly. Underneath he smells of fine lavender, his toned chest revealed to me without a shirt. 

“No shirt?”

Yoongi shakes his head. 

“I had just finished in the shower when you got here,” he explains, “to lazy to put one on. Now come back here.”

Yoongi pulls me back towards him, lips attaching themselves to my neck as his hands gently ghost over my breasts. He groans as he bunches my hoodie up and over my head. 

“Why didn’t you take this off sooner?”

I can’t help but giggle, toss my hoodie to the side, along with my shirt and lean down to nibble his neck. His soft groans force me to continue and plant soft kisses down his chest. I gasp at the growing need in his sweats, he bites down on his lips and shudders. 

“You’re so reactive, Yoongi.” I whisper against his skin. 

“Only for you jagi,” he purrs, “c’mon, I need to feel you. All of you.”

I nod in agreement as he fiddles with the buttons of my jeans, sliding them down to my ankles. 

“No, all the way down,” he breathes, “I want you against me.”

I do what he says giddily. 

“So, this isn’t our usual quickie?”

Yoongi shakes his head while discarding his sweats, revealing nothing underneath them as well, his member springing to life. 

“Of course not, Y/N,” he mutters, “wait, didn’t we have time when we did it in my studio?”

I roll my eyes. 

“Yeah, but Namjoon interrupted us, remember.”

“Oh yeah, well just come here, please,” he groans. 

I discard my underwear and lay back down next to him. Yoongi’s quick to get on top this time, hovering over me with arms on either side of me. There’s so much admiration in his eyes, I get lost in them as my eyes begin to water again. Yoongi notices and gently cups my face. 

“Are you ok? Do you want to stop, Y/N?”

I shake my head. 

“No, I still want you Yoongi, it’s just, you look at me-the way you look at me is a little overwhelming sometimes.”

Yoongi flashes a gummy smile. 

“I hope that’s a good thing.”

“I-It is, you’re too adorable for your own good sometimes,” I say, “I’m so happy my first Grammy was with you.”

Yoongi’s eyes sparkle before he kisses me, easing himself close towards my entrance.

“I’m happy too, God Y/N-”

His hitches and my back arches as he carefully slides inside me. My arms rush around his back, forcing him to groan as he settles completely inside.  

“Yoongi, ah y-you can move.”

Yoongi nods as he pulls out slowly and thrusts back in, repeating his action as his speed steadily builds. My head lulls back at how he manages to hit my sweet spot so well, over and over again. 

“Mmh, Y-Yoongi-”

He cuts me off with a low grunt and presses his lips against mine, suppressing the moan that came from low in my throat. 

“Y/N, how close are you jagi?”

My eyes barely stay open as he continues his powerful thrusts, hands holding my waist as my climax grows closer. 

“I-I’m so close Yoongi!”

“Ah, I feel it!” he groans, “I-I love you!”

My climax comes as I cling to him. Yoongi removes my arms from around his to intertwine our hands as I finally reach my high. He groans, pulls out before coming all over the sheets beside us. The sound of our breaths fill the room as we both laugh in the afterglow.

“Y-you could have grabbed a condom, nasty,” I giggle. 

Yoongi shrugs and pulls me back against him. 

“We’re leaving tomorrow anyway,” he notes, “gosh, you’re so beautiful, do you need anything before we clean up?”

I shake my head and snuggle against his chest. 

“Nothing, all I need right now is you.”

  * * *

“So, you guys won’t be back until your tour in a couple months?”

Yoongi nods. 

He’s in his studio right now, alone while we’re on facetime. 

“I know you said we need space apart, but I hope to at least grab some lunch together before tour actually starts,” he suggests, “your choice.”

I can’t help but grin against my pillow. 

“Sounds like a plan. Yoongi I-”

I’m cut off by Namjoon stepping into his studio with a notebook in hand. They must be ready to work. 

“I’ll catch you later,” I say. 

Yoongi frowns. 

“What were you going to say?” he asks. 

He’s so adorable when he frowns, the duality of this man. 

“I love you, don’t work too hard.”

Yoongi flashes that same gummy smile again. 

“I love you too.”

[marvelouss-marvel]

Feelings | T.H.

Summary: Tom and Melina have feelings for one another but are lost in expressing this through words. Do actions actually speak louder than words?

Pairing: Tom Holland x OC (who’s black, so you’re welcome ladies)

Word count: 2.3k

A/N: I meant to finish this yesterday but got tied up yesterday with schoolwork. So, I apologize. This is a contribution to the Quarantine Writing Challenge created by @chaneajoyyy​ and @shaekingshitup. Thank you for adding me to my very first writing challenge. Also, I recommend you listen to “Feelings” by Lauv; it’s a masterpiece and the inspiration for this fic.

Is my love too much? Or is it just enough for you, for you? 'Cause it's getting late, would you like to stay? Ah 'Cause I'm bad at reading signs

All evening, Tom had been sneaking glances Melina. The tempered glass on her prevented him from viewing her observations but he knew it had to be either Tumblr or Twitter; both platforms had a tendency of stretching her lips to form that soft smile of hers he’d grown to adore over the last few months. On top of that, she would hold her phone up to his face once in a while to grant Tom the chance of witnessing what made her snort.

Although secretly watching her was simple, Tom found it difficult to prevent his thoughts from skedaddling all over the place like ants running from human feet. He was attempting to gather the courage in revealing his true feelings to her but a second of his mouth opening effected the various “what if” scenarios he created.

His ringtone for Harrison went off, pulling the two best friends out of their silent world. Tom reached for his phone on the small coffee table but paused his actions once he noticed the time. “Uh, Mel?”

“Hmm…?” she hummed. She was quick to retreat back into her personal bubble.

“You do realize it’s 2 in the morning, right?” Tom continued.

“W—” Melina paused her video on Twitter to pull the control center down on her phone. “Crap! I gotta go!” She stood from the couch to begin gathering her scattered belongings.

She was right that she needed to leave… but Tom didn’t want that. Sure, they hardly spoke to one another for the rest of the night after watching the 2-hour long Netflix film but he wanted her company a bit longer. In addition to that, it was too early in the morning for him to be questioning her whereabouts.

A lightbulb went off in his head but it was the idea itself that rapidly pumped the blood to his heart. “You know… you can stay the night?”

Melina scoffed. “Tom, no. We’re not having this discussion.”

“Um, yeah we are. It’s late Mel. And I don’t want you out.”

“I know how you feel, dad, but I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl.” She slightly rotated her head to wink his way. The irony of her statement was that she was petite for her age. Most of their friends were five-foot-five and above while Melina was often mistaken for an elementary student trying to fit in with the “big kids.”

Tom shook his head, even though she couldn’t see him. “Melina, no. Stay the night.”

“And miss the comfort of my bed? I don’t think so but thank you for the offer Tommy.”

Before Tom knew it, he was taking long strides to the front door and snatching her leather coat off the coat rack before her arm could reach out. Melina only raised one of her perfectly shaped brows she managed to do on her own in response.

“Okay?” she voiced. “What’re you doing?”

In that moment, Tom realized how much of a freak he perceived himself to be. He resembled a robot by shoving the item in her direction for her to take. “Um, I think it’s too late. And, I was wondering if you wanted to stay the night? It’s just I worry about you as your friend this time of the day.”

It took her a moment to respond but once she finally gave him his answer, he subtly released a breath he didn’t remember inhaling.

“You know, if you asked like that in the beginning, I would’ve said yes.” Melina smirked as she slid off her shoes. “You’re weird sometimes.” She left him by himself, claiming she needed to use the restroom.

But I, I wanna do whatever you wanna do If you wanted to, girl, we could cross that line

Even after two years of living in London, Melina continued to struggle in socializing. If she wasn’t lounging around in Tom’s apartment, the best friends were at the hottest club with their group of friends. No bad blood existed between her and the others; it was just the environment they chose to reside in for the evening.

Tom always noticed this quiet side of her. How she seemed to shrink in posture with slumped shoulders, even though she was gorgeous in her club attire. How she practiced her nervous habit of fiddling with her hands when it wasn’t her to turn to talk yet. How she sidled up against Tom every chance she got if people (mainly men) needed to squeeze by in reaching their destination. To tell you the truth, Tom found these adorable and made it a mission to protect her every time they went out.

The group had split a few minutes prior with Melina and Tom making their way to the bar. After constant begging, Melina hit the dance floor. Tom and the others cheered her on for three songs until she grew tired and yearned for some water. Like the unspoken bodyguard he was, Tom followed her.

“That was fun.” She began. “I haven’t danced like that since my family reunion.” She flagged the bartender down with a raised palm. “Excuse me, can I get some water?”

The woman behind the counter nodded with a smile and proceeded to fix the drink. Melina didn’t hesitate to grasp the foggy, clear glass and chug a large amount of the cold liquid down her throat.

Tom chuckled. “And when was that?”

He watched her chocolate eyes shift to stare at the ceiling in deep thought. “Like July? Of 2018?”

“Aren’t those every year?” he wondered. Last time he remembers having this discussion with Melina, she stated her family met up in the middle of July at one of the local parks every year.

“Yeah but, my parents didn’t go last year and don’t plan on going again this year. I gotta ask my mom again w—”

The sudden pause in the short story encouraged Tom to look up from the bar and into Melina’s eyes. Only, she was looking beyond him with an expression representing discomfort.

“That guy’s been eying me all night. I don’t like it.” she disclosed.

Tom swiveled around in his seat to find the man she was talking to. His eyes were able to pinpoint the stranger instantly searching for another area in sight to claim for straing. “Oh yeah?”

“Mmhm.” Melina affirmed with a nod of her head. She gazed at the back of her best friends head, praying he wasn’t thinking about making a scene. That’s the last thing she wanted for him. “Hey Tom?”

“Yeah Love?” His eyes were back on her, softer than before when he reversed the role of eying the creeper.

Melina only pursed her lips in embarrassment. After the first club incident where an intoxicated man approached Melina and Tom stepped in to play the role of a protective boyfriend, it had become an unannounced habit to cozy up with one another to ward off the eyes of complete strangers. Still, Melina was anxious in requesting his form of rescuing.

“Come here, Darling.” Tom urged. One of his arms wrapped itself around her waist to twist her body so her back faced him. That same arm also maneuvered her to sit on his lap like a child posing with Santa Claus for a picture.

At this point in their friendship, Melina considered Tom to be her second home. Her immediate family lived thousands of miles away, calling her when they could on Whatsapp and bringing a smile to her face. Tom provided her the same form of comfort just about every day now that her life was here in London.

Realizing this, Melina rested her back against his chest as if he were a pillow. This was temporary but, she couldn’t help but want a little more.

But I feel 'em in my chest A tiny war within But when I pull you closer Girl, I can't explain

Two months had passed but that didn’t stop the two from growing closer in physical contact. Behind closed doors, Tom did more of pulling her into his side when sitting on the couch and for some odd but cute reason, Melina felt the need to straddle his lap when presenting exciting news.

Today was Melina’s hair day and she needed help taking out the box braids she had installed over a month ago. If she took the braids out herself, it would’ve taken longer due to how exhausted she was again from another rough week at work. So, Tom was her next option.

“Sorry if I ripped you away from any plans you had.” She apologized for the fourth time that day.

Tom scoffed. “Darling, how many times do I have to tell you to stop apologizing? I’m currently on break from work and trust me, I’d rather be here than at my place by myself. Haz went out with the crew and I wasn’t up for that today.” He explained. “Besides, I’d rather be here with you.”

A tiny smile sufficed, which didn’t match the beating of her heart that suddenly felt as if it was trying to crawl out of her chest.

“Putting these in looks hard but taking them out? Different story.” Tom commented.

“You’re telling me. Which is why I have other people do it for me. I knew a girl who installed similar braids herself but… it didn’t really come out right in the back. I think it was her first time.”

“Reminds me of the first time Harry tried giving himself a trim.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We ended up giving him a decent buzz cut.”

Her giggle had now become music to Tom’s ears. Whether it be her speaking, crying, or laughing, Tom wanted to record her voice and carry it with him for his travels away from home.

Home. She was now home to him. But how could he reveal that truth to her when his feelings ran deep and he didn’t want to ruin what they had?

He continued to remove her braids in tranquil silence while Melina pulled out her iPad to play a few levels of Homescapes. The further he moved up her head, the more Melina relaxed against his torso by slouching.

The close form of contact affected the temperature of his armpits. Tom was currently stuck on the level of Friendzoning where physical contact with Melina affected how his body responded to her touches. From sweaty armpits to a beating heart, Tom felt powerless in controlling his reactions. And it didn’t help that her head rested above his heart.

It was six-thirty when Tom was pulling the last braid from Melina’s natural hair. She was just shutting her eyes at this point with her iPad turned off and cradled under arms like a student on her way to class. Slumberland grasped her conscious mind once Tom’s fingers began massaging her scalp. Sure, it was dirty but it was necessary her head receive a good kneading from someone aside from herself.

“Feel good, Love?” he whispered.

She hummed in satisfaction. “I need this.”

And I know, and I know that it's on your mind That it's on your mind when I kiss you But I wanna do whatever you wanna do

“I like you. A lot.” Tom panted.

It was the first thing he blurted to Melina as soon as she opened the door to her apartment. He looked as if he’d ran the whole way with his disheveled hair, slightly wet face, and drenched-in-sweat T-shirt he the threw on.

“What?” Melina whispered. Her heart and mind were hoping he meant what he meant.

“I like you a lot. And I mean that as in I have a major crush on you. I have for a while.” He elaborated in between breaths.

Melina ushered him in with a wave of her hand. “Come in, Tommy.”

He stepped over the threshold into the warmth of her apartment. His nose immediately picked up the scent of seasoning for her famous enchilada’s. The ceiling lights were dimmed to create a relaxing vibe. Behind her living space, the tiny dining table was blanketed with a cream table cloth and a vase of flowers stood in the middle of it.

“I just had a good day today, that’s all. I wanted to give myself a bit of a celebration.” She weakly explained. This moment in particular was something she anticipated for the longest but not in the manner of her appearing to set up for a date that wasn’t with Tom. “Um, so you like me?”

“Yeah, I do.” He moved his eyes away from the setting to fully look at her. Her digits were fiddling with one another again and her eyes landed on the space between their feet. Tom rested his hand over hers to lace their fingers. “I just think you’re… beautiful inside and out. You make me happy every time I’m around and… and I just wanted you to know.” He braced himself for the next part. “But, if you don’t feel the same that’s totally fine.”

She chuckled. “Why wouldn’t I feel the same?”

He knew what she was doing. Things could get awkward when Tom had these truthful moments with people. She wanted to ease his feelings through jokes. “Darling, c—”

“I’m being serious. Why wouldn’t I feel the same about you, Tom? You’re everything I like in a guy. Fine as hell, sweet, funny, and all in all: a gentleman.”

They were holding direct eye contact now, a smirk resting on Melina’s lips. She was the one who eventually leaned in connect their lips. Eyes closed, Tom’s arm snaked itself around her waist to pull her closer while both of Melina’s arms wrapped around his neck.

He moved away first, resting his forehead against hers. “Is there room for one more person for your celebratory dinner.”

“There’s always room for one when I’m having a good day.” She giggled as he leaned down to peck her lips again.

[yikesharringrove]

the fic you wrote for my last prompt was amazing, ty 😭 can you do 50 + 56 this time please? and if you want to work in dyslexic!steve too that would be awesome! 🥰

You are speaking my fuckin’ language, dyslexic Steve is my ABSOLUTE jam. Honestly, whenever I write Steve, he’s dyslexic, although sometimes it’s not mentioned because it’s not important to Harry’s journey @ jk rowling

Thank you for your request! I’m really glad you liked the other one I wrote! You’re anonymous so I don’t know which one that is but I really enjoyed writing them all! Sorry for my manic energy rn.

Something a little different, it’s modern au! This is probably nothing like what you were thinking so I’m sorry, but I kinda love it ngl.

50: Secret Admirer

56: “I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.”

Prompt list!

Billy spent three and a half hours reading through every single tweet on the account.

There were so fucking many of them. The earliest one was timestamped from four days ago, so obviously, this person had no life outside of tweeting.

Tweeting about Billy.

He had a few personal favorites. He had retweeted them to his account, figuring may as well play it up, make a joke outta everything.

@ImHardForHargrove: sorry WHOMST gave you the RIGHT to have eyes that fuckin blue im YELLING

@ImHardForHargrove: watchin u play basketball is a religious experience y are ur arms so BIG hhnnnng

And Billy’s absolute favorite, which he pinned right at the top of his account

@ImHardForHargrove: ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass ass

Billy knew he looked good. Knew he turned heads wherever he went. He did that on purpose. But realizing someone at Hawkins High had set up a thirst account for him, well.

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended.” Billy had explained the situation to Robin, letting her go through the account on his phone. “Like, It’s kinda nice, whoever this guy is, he’s got a crush. But also like, It’s kinda creepy. Plus he’s objectifying me,” Billy was talking through his sandwich.

Robin made a face of disgust. “Why do you keep saying ‘he’? All of the girls in this fucking school are practically drooling for you.”

“Hard for Hargrove, Robin. I know you’re like, revolted by the peen and whatever but that does not excuse a lack of basic sexual education and anatomy.” She gagged at him. Honest to God, gagged. He thought she was gonna spew all over the table.

“If I ever hear you call it a peen ever again, it’s on sight Hargrove.” Heather plopped herself down next to Robin, kissing her cheek before zeroing in on Billy’s phone, still in Robin’s hand.

“Have you guys worked out who it could be yet?” Her eyes were wide at Billy.

“Billy says he thinks its a guy even though people with penises aren’t necessarily men.” Robin gave him a pointed look.

“Yeah Robin, I know that, but, I don’t know I just think it’s a guy penis-having person.”

Heather narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you actually think that, or are you just hoping in that goblin little brain of yours that this account is Steve Harrington’s.” Billy could feel the heat spread down his neck.

“Billy, I know Steve is like, the only out guy in this whole fucking town, but you can do way better than him.  PLUS, I feel like it makes more sense if the person running this account wasn’t out and had to channel their gay yearning through social media.”

“First of all Robin, you have this vendetta against Steve that I don’t get. He’s a nice guy. He’s kinda dopey, kinda dumb, but he’s like, sweet and shit. Second, I’m not out, so it still could be him because he doesn’t think I would, like, accept his advances or whatever. Hence, gay internet yearning.” The chime of the bell sent them packing their lunches, Billy’s phone vibrated in Robin’s hand. She rolled her eyes when he realized he turned on notifications for the account

“Get a fucking life you loser.” She slapped the phone into his hand. He opened the new tweet with embarrassing zeal.

@ImHardForHargrove: i saw u talking with ur mouth full and it was yucky but i was still  🥺🥺

His head shot up, trying to see who would have been facing him during lunch, but the cafeteria was almost empty.

The rest of the week Billy took deliberate care of every interaction he had with anyone. Observing who was in his surroundings, and making note of everything he did and said. He took extra caution around Steve, wanting to spot any minute detail that could give away who ran the account.

The account started blowing up. People were retweeting like fucking crazy. Everywhere he went, he was being asked if he’s seen it, like he doesn’t regularly retweet the good ones. The search for the owner of the account had spread throughout the whole school. A few girls even tried to claim the account was theirs, but every time that happened the account would tweet out something to discredit whoever made the claim, proving them a liar.

Billy was starting to lose hope it was Harrington. The tweets were coming at all different times, posted whenever the person thought about it, so Billy was losing track of who was near when he said or did something. And the tweets were always about stupid stuff Billy didn’t register doing. On Wednesday night the account said

@ImHardForHargrove: hi when you chew on your pencil and it makes me �� that is all thx for comin to my ted talk

Friday afternoon gave them all:

@ImHardForHargrove: walked past ur classroom and u were asleep ive never wanted to CUDDLE someone so bad in my LIFE

But Saturday, Saturday renewed all hope for Harrington Billy could possibly have. Lauren Kranz was throwing a party. It was the first real rager in a while, so everyone was there, and everyone was sloshed. Everyone but Billy, who’d agreed to be designated driver for Robin and Heather like some kinda idiot.

He was brooding on the back porch when his phone went off. The account was active, and the owner was drunk.

@ImHardForHargrove: I can seeeeee u oyt the windw I wan u 2 FUC ME. RAW DOG.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry ur so beauitiful nd THICCC

@ImHardForHargrove: I wana shoot my shot but idk if u lik bois

@ImHardForHargrove: (ys i am boi)

@ImHardForHargrove: nd i dont wana get my heart broken agin 😥

He was right about it being a guy. He was right about him being too nervous to approach him outright. His brain was screaming stevestevesteve at him. Hawkins was shook when Steve came out as bisexual in his sophomore year. He was the golden boy, a real jock. He was NOT the kind of guy people would assume queer in a small midwestern town.

He was kind of a douchebag, dumping one girl for another, sleeping with her and never calling again. But then he settled down with this guy from the University of Indianapolis for a few months until Steve caught him cheating. Apparently, he had slashed the guy’s tires. Billy was impressed.

The next year came Wheeler, who only stuck around long enough to make sure Steve was nice and whipped before she fucked off on him too. So Steve retreated. Spent more time with middle schoolers than anybody else. Didn’t want to put his heart on the line anymore until he knew it wouldn’t be stomped on.  Billy could respect that.

Billy couldn’t risk being out in a town like Hawkins. Word always had a way of getting right back to his dad, and in a tiny hick town with nothing better to do than gossip, it was usually only a matter of hours before Neil heard something he didn’t like.

@ImHardForHargrove: srry 4 bad typing rn. drunk nd dysl exic ren’t a happy combo

Billy’s heart stopped. The drunken idiot was giving himself away. Maybe if he sat here staring at the account long enough, enough would be revealed he could figure it all out like a shitty drunk episode of Blue’s Clues.

He was so focused on Twitter, refreshing his feed, again and again, he didn’t notice a very drunk, and very unsteady Steve Harrington stumbling out the back door towards him. Until he crashed into his back.

“Sorry, Bill!” Billy had Steve by the shoulders trying to keep him upright. “Heyy I have a question for you.” Steve grabbed one of Billy’s hands and veered over to the table and chairs arranged neatly on the small patio. When they were sitting, Steve kept ahold of Billy’s hand.

“Hi.” Steve was smiling like a little kid. Billy was in fucking love.

“hey, Harrington. What was your question.”

“So-oo. I have this friend. A very good friend. Super close. And he has a big ol’ crush on you but he’s too scared to ask you himself because he keeps getting his heart fuckin’ broken so he wanted me to ask. Are you into guys?” It’s a miracle Billy understood any of that, every word blending into the next.

“That depends.” Billy leaned in, running his tongue along his bottom lip. He saw Steve take in a sharp breath, following the movement with his glazed eyes. He knew Steve was talking about himself, he just wanted to rile him up a little. Make him blush first. “This friend you’re talkin’ about. He’s our age? Like you’re not trying to set me up with one a’ your kids, right?” Steve physically recoiled.

“NO, you fuckin’ pedo. I’m NOT trying to set you up with a fuckin’, fuckin’ middle schooler. My friend is, uh eighteen. He’s a senior.” Unless Tommy fuckin’ H. suddenly had a penchant for dick Billy didn’t know about, Steve was 100% talking about himself.

“Well, if he’s as pretty as you are, I’d love to go out with him sometime.” Billy winked. Steve went red.

“Okay, but like, does that mean you’d go out with me? Like I’m as pretty as me, right? Because I was talking about me. Not ‘a friend’ I was talking about me. Steve.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out. You know, I was hoping it was you running that Twitter. Any time you’d tweet out something you wanted to do with me, I was always picturin’ doing it with you, Baby.” Billy was practically purring. “Especially all the shit you wanted me to do TO you.” Steve gave something between a whine and a groan and flopped himself onto Billy’s lap, straddling him with very little grace.

“Thank God. ‘Cause you’re so fucking hot I’d let you do anything to me. Anything, Bill.” Billy smiled softly at him.

“Then let me take you home. Let me put you in bed to sleep off all this. And let me take you to breakfast tomorrow. Something nice and greasy for your hangover tummy.” Steve was a puddle in Billy’s lap. “C’mon, Drunky, git your ass up.” Steve just giggled and muttered Drunky Skunky under his breath.

Billy sighed and stood up, hefting Steve up with him.

“Bil-ly,” Steve whined. “You’re so strong, this is so fucking hot. I gotta tweet about this.”

“Tweet it later, Sweet Thing.”

It took Billy for-fucking-ever to find Robin and Heather (they were making out in the basement with the stoners). But Steve chirped and cooed into his ear, so happy Billy could lift him and hold him like it was nothing.

The last tweet from the account was timestamped from Sunday evening.

@ImHardForHargrove: Hi this is Steve. Billy’s my boyfriend now 🥰#ThirstWorks

[gleekto]

Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV

Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA,  and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.

He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10

Even Better than the Real Thing (11/13)

Well, so much for finally getting a decent night of sleep.  

Night three of Kurt’s staring at the ceiling is, however, significantly better than the first two. Kurt reads Blaine’s text over and over again, Some rules are made to be broken, as if it will somehow reveal its hidden meaning. Which, as Mercedes texts to Kurt the next morning, really isn’t that hidden.

Kurt: What could he mean?

Mercedes: Kurt, he practically spelled it out for you. 

Kurt: He said he wouldn’t have asked me out if he had known. Golden rule.

Mercedes: Rules that are sometimes made to be broken.

Kurt: What should I do? Should I-

Mercedes: Oh shit. 

Kurt: What now?

Mercedes: Kurt, you better get on tumblr right now-

Kurt: I don’t have a blog anymore. What?

Mercedes starts sending him screen caps of her dashboard. The picture already has 343 reblogs. Blaine Anderson with a fan at the Coffee Bean in Los Angeles...and that random guy he was with sitting as inconspicuously as possible in the corner. Oh god.

I spy with my little eye a potential new boy with him...

Oh I see him! He’s cute. (Thanks. He’ll take it). Same age-ish? Maybe younger? Definitely isn’t a friend we’ve seen before. I think something is happening...

Oh there he goes queerbaiting again. This time coffee with a well dressed friend (Thank you?). Could he be any more obvious?

OH MY GOD THAT IS @LIMABLAINEFAN!! I swear guys. I met him at the Sing!Con two summers ago. That is HIM. Literally having coffee with Blaine Anderson!! (Shit shit shit shit).

And fandom, the story is heating up because we obviously all remember that @limablainefan stopped posting a little while ago because of a conflict with a “friend” who knew Blaine and he DELETED his blog yesterday.

What? omg limablainefan deleted? I’m so sad. I love him and I love his blog. (Well, thanks).

Mercedes: At least you’re loved?

He’s fucking dating him. How can Blaine Anderson be dating a fan? Like a fan who drooled over him for years. There must be a law against this.

Kurt: Well, that’s it.  So much for a second chance. Blaine is going to hate everything about this. 

Mercedes: He probably won’t love it.

Kurt: Ugh Mercedes. What do I do?

Mercedes: Tell him, obviously. After all that,  no more lies, right? He was there. He knows the picture was taken. It is not actually your fault that it ended up on tumblr. 

Kurt hates when Mercedes is right. Which is usually. Anyways, his overnight basking in Blaine’s suggestive text is over and it’s time to face the music. This was not exactly his hoped for song but alas. He responds underneath Blaine’s previously hopeful breaking the rules text.

Kurt: You may want to take back that offer.

He sends the screen cap of the pic in the coffee shop.

Kurt: The fan pic from the coffee shop ended up on tumblr. And I got recognized. With you.

Blaine texts back immediately. Shock face emoji. Cry-laugh emoji. Okay, this isn’t the worst sign.

Blaine: Two celebrities trying to have a normal adult conversation and suddenly it’s the talk of the town.

Kurt: Not sure tumblr is exactly front page news.

Blaine: Only for the Sing! fandom. 

Kurt: So you knew about all us fans and our crazy?

Blaine: Of course. Well, not about you specifically. But generally, yes.  How else would I know what outfits pop? Or who I’m rumoured to be dating?

Kurt sends him the screen cap discussions.

Kurt: Ugh. Sorry about this.

His phone buzzes and it’s Blaine. Calling him.

“This thing is not actually your fault.”

“I could have made sure I was not in that picture.”

“I knew you were there. Everything I do can end up on the internet - twitter, tumblr, paps. Last year, there were amazing pap pictures of me eating a banana in pajama bottoms and nothing else on a walk of shame the morning after the night before.”

“I remember those,” Kurt says it before he catches himself. “Though of course I didn’t know it was a walk of shame,” He adds quickly.

“Mr. Pink, actually.” Okay, Blaine’s not mad and now all Kurt can think of is Blaine gently peeling his banana after a steamy night in a terribly decorated bubblegum room. 

“Of torrid sex fame?”

“I hope that part wasn’t on tumblr.”

“Nope. No one ever got a picture of you with Mr. Pink actually. ”

“I told you that you had one up on him.” Kurt thinks he hears a smile in Blaine’s voice. He couldn’t possibly think this is funny. 

“You’re really not mad?”

“At you? No. This stuff happens. But please tell me that you are, in fact, 19?”

“Almost 20.”

“Okay, I’ll handle it.”

“Just to be clear - it’s the talk of Sing! Tumblr. Blaine Anderson dating a longtime fandom fan - he’s younger-”

“And well-dressed,” Blaine chimes in, reading the caps.

“Yes, well, I try. Seriously, though, we’ve got excitement, jealousy, speculation, denial - soon there will be fics-”

“Oh, I’m sure.” Kurt can hear comical amusement through the phone.

“X-rated ones,” Kurt adds for emphasis.

“I hope so or what’s the point? I better be good in bed,” Blaine says flatly. Kurt laughs, slightly scandalized. “Honestly, I’ll deal with it.”

“As long as you know that we are the current headline, and everyone is talking about Blaine Anderson and his younger fanboy tryst.” Kurt may be exaggerating slightly but over the top honesty is better than any more secrets. 

“Fanboy tryst?” Blaine repeats. 

Just as Kurt’s trying to think of something appropriately flirty but not too suggestive to say back, there’s a knock on his apartment door.

“Sorry, I have to get the door. Rachel’s filming all day. I’ll call you back in a sec.”

Or not. The door opens and Blaine is standing there with a smirk and flirty, amused eyes. He’s leaning casually against Kurt’s door post in tight blue jeans and a white t-shirt, slightly untucked.

“Let’s give ‘em something to talk about.”

[minyoongijjangjjangmanboongboong]

You’ve Got Mail: Jungkook One Shot

Request: Hi! I really love your writings! If your requests are still open, can you pls write a Jungkook story? Ex-lovers in high school where he broke up with her because he got bored or something like that. Then they met again in university and wants her back again. (Angst but happy ending pls). Thank you!

Description: After a messy breakup with high school heartthrob Jeon Jungkook, you swore off dating once you got into college. Even though it left you lonely, it was easier than being hurt. But one fateful blind date changes everything for you, and you realize that maybe isolation isn’t the answer either.

Word Count: 12.9k

Pairing: Jungkook x (gender neutral) Reader

Tags: Barista!Reader, Graphic Design Student!Jungkook, Non-Idol!Au, Ex-Lovers to Enemies to Lovers (? I guess? Haha)

Genre: Whole lotta angst, fluffy ending

Warnings: None!

A/N: It’s been two weeks since I’ve posted wtf!! But I’m back and less than a week away from the Rose Bowl concert, holy cow. This ask has been in my inbox for MONTHS, so I need to say thank you to the anon who sent it for waiting so long! I really enjoyed this request, so I hope you guys like it too!

Also, if you want to follow me on Twitter please do so! My handle is @/plzpunchmebts. I would post a link, but rumor has it Tumblr killed links and I’m not taking any chances. I’ll be posting concert videos and pics there, so please give it a follow if you’d like to see that!

- Mercury

You were never too keen on blind dates. Everything about them felt…artificial. It wasn’t that you were a romantic, not especially, but you had to admit that being forced on a date by meddlesome friends took some of the magic out of dating. When Sua had mentioned a cute new boy in her class who was too busy studying to date, you had to admit the red flags began waving in your mind. Of course, you could relate. College was taxing and it was difficult to find time to even eat three meals, let alone date. Perhaps if things had cropped up organically, you’d have been more excited. But the forced union was a little cumbersome.

The nerves and the insecurity and the fear, none of it was especially fun. But Sua had been adamant that the two of you would hit it off, and with her eyes round and expectant, her brows raised, and her lips pouted, you really didn’t have any room to deny her. You figured one night of discomfort was better than months of guilt, and even though you figured things wouldn’t work out with this mystery man, you’d humor your friend. After all, making friends in college wasn’t easy.

Making friends in general wasn’t easy.

You sighed as you waited with your chilly hands clasped around your phone, standing at the entrance to the subway station where Sua had instructed. The mouth of the entrance was muggy with exiting passengers as the wave of people clambered up the steep stairs and onto the street, lined on all sides by buildings that reached the sky. Every now and again, someone would graze their shoulder against yours without apology, or perhaps step on the toe of your sneaker. You took a few inching steps backward, glancing over your shoulder to be sure you wouldn’t hit anyone. Not that they’d care. You backed up until you were out of the streamline and instead took up a quieter spot beside a fish cake vendor.

You checked your phone once again, furrowing your brow. Sue said eleven, didn’t she? You pulled up your messages and scrolled through carefully, head tilted to the side as you read her most recent text.

Sua: He said he’s running a little late, but he told me to tell you to wait.

You: I am waiting…

Sua: He says he’s sorry and that the subway is close to the terminal now.

You: That’s good.

Sua: He says sorry again.

Sua: You know, this is kinda dumb. Let me just give you his number so you can text him.

Sua: 51-XXX-XX24

You pursed your lips and crossed your arms over your chest. Sua was right, anyway. Making her your proxy wouldn’t really do you much good, considering she wasn’t here to help you in person. But wouldn’t it be a bit forward to just…text this guy? You didn’t know him yet. And besides, what could you say that Sua hadn’t? Hey, I’m doing this out of obligation, sorry to disappoint! or you can just go back home now and we can tell Sua things didn’t work out. You shook your head and rubbed your fingertip along the screen of your phone, working your lower lip between your teeth. You were just looking for an out. And really, you didn’t want to bail after Sua had gone through the trouble of setting things up. Still, just texting a stranger was a little…

But then again, he’d agreed to the blind date too, hadn’t he? It wasn’t like you were someone he was forced to talk to. He’d come on his own accord. Rubbing your bare forearm in the spring breeze with one hand, you used the other to tap the phone number and save it and, with only your index finger, drafted a slow message.

You: Hey, I’m Sua’s friend. I think we’re supposed to have a blind date today? Haha. That sounded kind of awkward…

Within seconds, your phone dinged with an incoming text and you jumped, nervous, before glancing at your phone once more.

Blind Date: Oh! Haha, hello. It wasn’t awkward at all. Ahh, I’m really sorry I’m late. I wasn’t looking where I was going and I bumped into a cyclist and he gave me an earful so I missed the first subway.

Blind Date: But I’m one stop away! You’re outside exit 2 right?

You: Yeah! I’m next to a fish cake stall. I’m wearing a red blouse, so you can’t miss me :-)

Damn, you thought, was that smiley face too much? You picked at the skin around your nail and glanced up to see the near-constant flow of people was still in full force, the subway exit spitting pedestrians onto the cement sidewalk in droves. You squinted a little, trying to keep a good visual on the staircase leading out. With a sigh, you leaned over your bag to slip your phone inside when it buzzed again. Despite yourself, your heart raced and you eagerly unlocked it to see if he’d responded.

Blind Date: Cute! Let’s get some fish cakes then before we go to the movie.

Blind Date: Ah, subway just pulled in! I’m only a few sweaty staircases away now~

Blind Date: :P

Without meaning to, you smiled a little. Your nerves settled as you leaned on your right foot, grinning softly at your screen. He seemed like a good guy, at least. You were relieved. After the jerks you dated in high school, you’d sworn off dating for a while. Maybe trying to cleanse your palate. It was…oddly refreshing to be talking to someone who didn’t make you feel like you weren’t all that important. Like you were disposable.

Still smiling, you responded with a simple text.

You: I’m excited to meet you :-D

“Y/N?” asked a familiar voice from beside you.

A voice that sent chills up your spine, and not the good kind.

You stiffened and turned, eyes wide, toward the one person you’d been hoping fervently to avoid for life. Standing with his big, brown eyes wide and his hair slightly windswept, Jeon Jungkook stared down at you like you were a ghost. Your lips parted and, heart hammering, you opened and closed your jaw a few times. What were you supposed to say to the boy who broke your heart when you were sixteen?

Years later and he was still the heartthrob he’d been back then, only now he looked…like a man. His cheekbones were prominent, strong jaw, heavy brow and a serious, toned build like he’d lived at the gym in the years between your meetings.

You swallowed hard and slipped your phone in your bag, crossing your arms and thus closing yourself to him. You glanced up at him with a furrowed brow. “Jungkook,” you said with a sigh. “I’m actually waiting here for someone and I don’t want him to get the wrong idea, so if you could-,”

“You’re on a blind date?” asked Jungkook, lips agape.

You shrugged, glancing down the sidewalk toward the open maw of the subway exit, squinting in the hopes of catching your date’s attention. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Wait, but-,”

You sighed and shut him up with a single look his way, sharp, venomous. “I’m gonna to wait someplace else if you’re gonna keep standing beside me.”

“No, it’s not-,”

You huffed and shuffled into the crowd once more, walking purposefully away from him, but Jungkook was hot on your tail and wouldn’t let you out of his sight. Every few paces, you’d glance over your shoulder and see him following you feverishly, angling himself through the narrow spaces between bodies. But you kept going, pushing through, until you were blocks away from the subway station and Jungkook was nowhere to be seen.

You exhaled long and slow, patting your chest to calm down, and veered off toward the shops on your right, taking cover beneath an awning. Something in your bag vibrated and you jumped. Shit. Your date. The spring day sun was warm on your hands as you fumbled with your bag, grabbing your phone once again.

Blind Date: Where did you go??

You gripped your nose bridge and exhaled through your nose. Of course he’d be confused. You were lucky he was nice enough to reach out at all after seeing you weren’t where you said you’d be. You typed your reply quickly, desperate not to hurt his feelings.

You: God, I’m SO sorry. I ran into someone…from a long time ago lol. I couldn’t shake him off, so I ended up down the street a few blocks. By a Burger King.

You: I’m making a really bad impression, huh? I’m sorry. Just…he’s the LAST person I wanted to see today, you know?

You: Or…well, ever haha.

You awaited a response with bated breath, brows knit, and chewed on the inside of your cheek. This blind date was a wild card, really. Since you didn’t know him yet, you didn’t know how he’d respond. And it wouldn’t be his fault if he decided you weren’t worth all the hassle. Honestly, you might’ve been a little relieved if that was the case. Running into Jungkook…it made you remember why you avoided dating.

But despite your expectations, your phone buzzed again and you jumped to grab it.

Blind Date: This person…you really didn’t want to see him?

You: No. It’s just a painful reminder of the past.

You: !!! God, I keep saying awkward things !!! Haha, please forget I said anything. Where are you?

Blind Date: No! It’s not awkward at all. I’m just…

Blind Date: I’m sorry you had to see him then, I guess.

You: Jeez…

You: You’re a really nice guy, aren’t you?

Blind Date: Haha! I don’t know about that…

Blind Date: How about we reschedule for another time? I get the feeling you wouldn’t really be up for a movie right now anyway.

You panicked, heart kicking up. Despite everything you told yourself, you were a little bit happy he was being so understanding. And even though you were scared, you wanted to see if…well…if maybe this guy might be different.

You shook your head. Of course you shouldn’t think that way. Putting your heart out there to be toyed with and thrown aside…you didn’t want to go through it. Not really. And what relationship could be worth all that? You sucked in your breath and typed a quick response, ready to cast Jungkook and this blind date into the banks of your memory to gather dust. Even if this guy did seem sweet…

So had Jungkook, at first.

You: Yeah. That’s probably for the best. I work at that coffeeshop on campus, so I’ll shoot you a text once I get my schedule. :-)

You: I’m sorry for all the trouble today. Seriously.

You sighed and turned on your heel toward the street. If you kept on this sidewalk for a few more blocks, you’d find exit 3. And from there, it was only a 20-minute subway ride home whereupon you could finally collapse on your couch and wait for this cursed weekend to be over.

But before you could take a single step, a text came.

Blind Date: It was no trouble. :D I just feel bad that you had an unpleasant experience…

You: Hey, it’s not your fault haha.

You: Oh yeah! I never gave you my name, did I?

Blind Date: No, actually. Haha.

You: It’s Y/N.

Blind Date: It’s nice to meet you again, Y/N.

Blind Date: You can call me Nochu.

You: … Nochu … ?

Blind Date: Haha, it’s weird huh?

Blind Date: It’s a nickname I prefer.

You: Ah! I see. I’ll call you that then.

You: Nochu.

Blind Date: Y/N :-)

You stood and placed your hands on your lower back and stretched, groaning, a week later. Classes had been dragging lately and with several coworkers sick with a cold, you were one of the only employees left who wasn’t too ill to work. Your body felt like it was slowly failing you. Even your feet were sore from constantly running from place to place. And the quiet coffee shop before you made you feel like taking a long and well-needed nap. Mismatched chairs and bistro tables littered the trendy place and students congregated around the windows or the fireplace or the used bookshelf. Nobody really bothered you except to order or ask for to-go coffee sleeves. Mostly, you just stood there. For hours. Watching everything and nothing at once.

But today the energy was a little different. You’d heard from Sua that the graphic design students were approaching an important deadline, and from the looks of the crowd it seemed that deadline was heavy on everyone’s minds. Laptops and drawing tablets and plenty of coffee littered the tables as students chatted in small groups, none of them looking all too happy. You wondered what the project was, but didn’t want to bother Sua with a useless question. So instead, you just watched over customer’s shoulders as they added thick white lines to separate sections of illustrations or grabbed whole images with slender styluses and slid them to new spaces.

“Excuse me?”

You jumped and turned to the queue which up until moments ago had been completely empty. You made sure to manage your expression with a tight smile and bowed your head. “Sorry,” you said quietly, lifting your eyes to meet the customer.

And, to your shock and horror, you saw a familiar face amongst the group of thee college-aged boys. Jeon Jungkook stood in the middle, a half-pace behind the guy who had roused your attention, and if his expression was anything to go by, he was just as horrified to see you as you were to see him. You felt your back go perfectly straight, eyes wide and lips parted through which only shallow exhales escaped. Your palms grew sweaty and your heart thump-thumped to an uneven cadence.

“Um, what can I make for you?” you asked finally, managing a tight smile at the speaker of the group whose attention was affixed to the sign above your head, reading the menu with squinted eyes. “If you need more time…,” you hedged, avoiding Jungkook’s gaze which you felt burning circles into your face.

“Ah, no I’ve got it,” said the first guy with a polite smile your way. “I’ll have a green tea latte.”

You nodded and wrote it down on your notepad, just to keep things straight. Had your coworkers been stronger in their constitution, you’d have given the order to one of them to get started on. Perhaps you’d even get started yourself and leave the cashiering to them. But alas, you were alone and painfully aware of it.

“Will you be paying separately or together?” you asked, a tinge of hope in your voice. Please say together, please say together, please say together, you thought over and over, like an endless mantra.

The first boy chuckled and gave Jungkook’s shoulder a firm punch. “Like I’ll pay for these good-for-nothings,” he joked before returning his attention to you, smiling. He had a kind smile, but even that did little to ease your anxieties. You simply nodded and took his card as he stretched it out toward you.

The second guy approached, another brown-haired college kid with a polite grin and baggy spring clothes, and hummed. “I’ll do the caramel macchiato,” he said with a nod, fingers still clasping his chin as he scanned the menu and you scribbled his order. “Ah!” he said, pointing at you. You jumped, still on edge with adrenaline coursing through you, but quickly settled with a smile. “And a slice of banana bread.”

“Banana bread,” you mumbled to yourself as you wrote it. “Okay.”

The second handed you a credit card which you swiped quickly, eager to get this whole encounter over with. He took it back with a bow and a smile which you struggled to return because the moment you glanced over his shoulder you caught Jungkook’s gaze, intense, warm browns peering at you like you held answers he’d been searching for. Despite yourself, you blushed and glanced back toward your notepad.

Finally, the moment of reckoning arrived and your nerves made your hands a little shaky as they clasped the pen and paper. Your eyes wavered around the space between your own hands, measuring the empty air, desperate not to look at Jungkook again.

“Um…,” he mumbled, voice a low rumble in his chest. You almost wanted to squeeze your eyes shut altogether, even though you knew how dumb that’d make you look. “Can I get a strawberry smoothie?”

You almost laughed. It was so like him to come to a coffeeshop and order something like that. It was so like him to still have a weak palate when it came to bitter things. It was so like him to chase after you that day, to show up here on coincidence. It was so like him to be exactly who you remembered him to be. Exactly who he was back then.

Slowly, once you’d written his order down, you lifted your eyes and looked at him properly at last. He was dressed well, casual as you expected, all black as you expected, handsome as you expected. His hair was half-styled out of his eyes, and those eyes were the problem really. Dark and depthless, staring down at you with furrowed brow, jaw clenched. If anyone had doubts you two knew each other before, they’d certainly know now with the way he was watching you. The way he hadn’t taken his eyes off of you for even a second.

“That’s all?” you asked.

“Um…yeah,” he responded, blinking at you like he had more to say.

By then, his friends had begun setting up camp amongst the mismatched sofas and recliners, setting up their computers. You caught sight of a drawing tablet as its corner poked out the top of the first boy’s backpack. So they were design majors too? Maybe your blind date had met one of these guys, then. But wait. If his friends were, did that mean…

“You’re a design major?” you asked, unable to stop yourself.

But once you said it, you wished to suck the words back inside like tapioca balls through a straw because across Jungkook’s face flashed a brief glimmer of excitement, eyes wide, mouth already open and poised to respond.

“Yeah!” he said, smiling a little. “I…uh, well you remember how I liked to draw.”

You nodded, typing the total into your cash register. “Yeah, I remember.”

“Listen, Y/N, I’m really sorry about-,”

“Let’s not rehash things here,” you said, eyeing him from beneath your lashes, scanning the shop like a conspirator in search of any prying eyes, any listening ears. “It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ve both moved on so let’s just keep it at that.”

Jungkook shut his mouth and, after a long moment, sighed. “Alright,” he said, sounding defeated. You hazarded a glance up at him and found his eyes long-sighted, gazing down at the counter between you without really looking at it.

“It’ll be 3,500 won,” you said, holding out one hand towards him.

He blinked and shook his head a little, as if returning to himself, and yanked his wallet from the front pocket of his loose joggers. He pulled out a bill and handed it to you. 20,000. Was that the smallest bill he had on him? You examined it with a thinly-veiled scowl. Of course, he was probably making good money doing something impressive. That was Jungkook anyway. The type of guy who just…made things come to him. Like the universe responded to his will. You sighed and went to work on the old register, punching in the amount and sliding the bill inside. You produced his change to find him already bounding toward his friends with his broad back to you.

Panicked, you rushed to the side of the barista station and called out to him. “Hey! You forgot your change!” you shouted, cupping one hand around your mouth. A few patrons turned to look at you and Jungkook.

He barely glanced back at you when he said, “You can keep it.”

And suddenly you were blushing for a very different reason.

That jerk, you thought to yourself as you watched him plug away at some ad he was working on on his tablet. Evening had fallen slowly upon the city of Seoul, and you wanted nothing more than to stroll out into the lavender evening, forgetting this whole unpleasant day. But instead, you had to wait for your coworker, Sora, to relieve you after making you work fifteen minutes past the end of your shift. Scowling, you kept a hawk’s eye on Jungkook and, unbeknownst to him, wished silent curses upon his head. I hope you go bald, you thought. Or worse, I hope you go out for fried chicken and you get only tendons. You crossed your arms and lolled your head to the side.

You shouldn’t have expected Jungkook to change. He’d always been a ‘my pace’ kind of guy. Maybe leaving that tip was his way of flexing his money to you. That he had enough money to just throw around at random baristas he used to hook up with in high school. Or maybe he was pitying you, looking down on you for working such a menial job. Either way, it made your blood boil. You felt the money crinkle in the pocket of your jeans with every step.

You’d briefly considered spitting in his smoothie, but you didn’t want to lose your job over Jeon Jungkook.

After all, you’d already lost your youth to the kid.

You glanced outside and watched the rainclouds gathering. Of course, you’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. It wasn’t like you’d checked the weather on the way out. Grumpily, you glanced down at your phone to check the time. Twenty minutes late now. What did Sora have to do that was so important? Normally, you’d complain to a friend. But Sua was about the closest you had these days and you weren’t sure you could trouble her with it.

But…were you really friends if you didn’t reach out to her from time to time?

Sighing, you glanced around the shop, making sure nobody was watching you, and unlocked your phone. So much had already happened that a quick message didn’t seem reasonable, but you couldn’t very well bury your head in your phone so after every few clicks you’d sweep your gaze around. You settled for an anxious few words between nervous glances at the rest of the shop. Realistically, you were off the clock anyway. But you didn’t want any bad Yelp reviews on your behalf.

You: Sua, on God today is cursed.

You waited a few moments for a response before growing impatient. Everything was taking forever today: that interaction with Jungkook, Sora taking over your shift, and now Sua not responding. Of course, she had no obligation to. She was probably busy with her own preparation much like the other graphic design students. You had no right to expect that of her.

Wasn’t that your problem from the start? Expecting too much?

Your phone buzzed in response as your mind began to drift toward melancholy thoughts and as you slid it open your eyes went wide and your fingertips chilled as the blood rushed to your cheeks.

Blind Date: Hah…I’m not Sua, but I am willing to listen if you need it…?

Blind Date: Was wondering when I’d hear from you.

Mortified didn’t even begin to cover it. You cupped a hand over your lips in horror, and just as you were about to melt into a pile of melted pride on the floor, the door swung open and a breathless Sora met your eyes with a nervous smile. You swallowed hard and pocketed your phone, offering Sora your full attention. He bowed his head to you, bending at the waist, as he approached the counter.

“I am so sorry for being late!” he shouted, loud enough for every patron to glance at him and, subsequently, you.

Your flushed face went beet red as Jungkook turned to stare at you, eyes wide. Of course, another embarrassing moment in front of that guy. “U-um, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” you said, waving your hands.

He sniffled and looked up at you, eyes red with impending tears. “I really didn’t mean to, but I fell asleep after class today and-,”

“Sora, it’s cool,” you said, removing your apron and hanging it on the rack behind you. “I’m gonna go now though so I can catch my subway.”

Sora stiffened and nodded, giving you a salute before scampering behind the counter and putting on his own apron. “I really am sorry!” he called after you.

You waved a hand and rushed out onto the sidewalk, lingering beneath the awning as the rain began to drizzle from overhead. You returned your attention to your phone, pushing your hair behind your ears so you could see properly, and swallowed your nerves.

You: I…am such an idiot.

You: I’m so sorry. I was at work and I’m not supposed to be on my phone, but I just…

You: Jesus, honestly you can just delete my number. I don’t think I can look at your contact anymore without cringing.

You were poised to take a step out into the rain when your phone vibrated again and you jumped to read it with barely shaking hands.

Blind Date: No! It’s okay. Seriously.

Blind Date: I can list dumber things I’ve done today alone.

Blind Date: Besides, sounds like you need someone to talk to anyway…?

You blinked at your phone screen a few times, cocking your head to the side. Somehow, his words had calmed you down, just a little. Your flaming cheeks were cooler now when you poked one with the pad of your finger. Your heart wasn’t a hammer against your ribcage. And as you glanced over your shoulder at the window into the coffeeshop, you found Jungkook was no longer in sight. With a few texts alone, things seemed a little better.

You: I won’t bore you with all of it, haha.

You: It was more of a Sua story anyway I think.

You: I’m trying to break through that kinda hesitant first stage of friendship with her and

You: Well anyway, I’m sorry to bother you. Hope you’re doing good?

Blind Date: Haha, hey I get it. Friendships are weird. Took me a while to make any real friends this year since I was so shy.

You: You were shy?

Blind Date: Oh big time. I still don’t really know how to approach people without saying or doing something wrong.

Blind Date: Like today. I think I came across like an asshole to someone.

Blind Date: That happens a lot actually -_-

Blind Date: Being nervous makes me act weird.

You: Really? You sound really confident over text.

Blind Date: Haha really? That’s good to hear at least.

Blind Date: I’m about the least confident person I know.

Blind Date: Whew, not exactly the impression I wanted to give to a possible date! Oops.

You smiled at your phone and began typing out a response when the door by your hip swung open and out walked Jungkook and his friends. Jungkook caught your eye as your smile was slipping into a scowl and you quickly righted yourself, looking away down the busy street. You held your phone close to your chest and popped a hip out to the side, feigning disinterest.

“See you guys tomorrow,” said one boy.

“Yeah,” responded Jungkook, and you saw out the corner of your eye that the guys parted ways. Jungkook lingered beside you underneath the awning, watching you keenly. “Who were you texting?” he asked.

You stiffened and glanced up at him with a frown. “Is that any of your business?” you asked.

He flushed a little, rubbed the back of his head, and let out a few breathy laughs. “Sorry. Guess not,” he said with a sigh.

For a few moments the two of you just stood there, silent. You weren’t sure what to do next without an umbrella, and you didn’t want Jungkook to think you were just…spending time with him for fun. But still, you didn’t move or make a sound. Just watched the steadily increasing rainfall splatter against the pavement, gathering in pools beside the sidewalk.

“Listen,” he began, turning to you properly. You eyed him from below with raised brows. “I really don’t want any bad energy between us, okay? I know things were messy before, but we’re in college now. It’s been years, right?” Some of the tension between you broke, but it was quickly replaced by a new tension: your outrage.

You blinked at him, working your jaw. “Jungkook, you don’t get to tell me when I’m allowed to stop being hurt,” you said, shaking your head. ��Seeing you is a little painful, even though it’s been a long time. So…maybe just ignore me.”

Jungkook sighed and gripped the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry, Y/N. You know I am.”

You shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t really want anything to do with you,” you said, meeting his eyes. Your own calm surprised you. He looked desperate, brows knit and lips parted. “I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just leave me alone.”

He blinked a few times, eyes wide. “I…I mean, we go to the same school now and everything. I just transferred this year and it’s…I don’t really know many people. It’s not like we’re strangers, so why should we act like we are?”

You swallowed your anger. “I’m gonna go now,” you said, adjusting your bag on your shoulder and walking out into the rain. You turned to look at him. “I don’t think you get what I’m saying, so it’s not worth repeating it again in a different way. Just…leave me alone.”

But before you could take a single step toward the subway entrance three blocks away, Jungkook was beside you in the rain, fiddling with his umbrella. “Wh-what are you doing? I just said to leave me alone!” you called at him over the sound of the rain around you.

Jungkook spat rainwater out from between his lips and shook his head as the umbrella finally popped open and the rain stopped pummeling you, now ricocheting off the nylon. You stared up at Jungkook underneath the dark umbrella, confined beneath it, confined to this small, enclosed space. Your chest was nearly touching his arm and his breath was warm as it fanned across your face. Strawberries. Like his smoothie. Rain was caught in his long eyelashes and his rosy lips were still parted, cheeks a warm pink. He stared down at you and for a brief moment, you felt a hot, shooting sensation running from the top of your head to your toes.

“Let me walk you to the station at least,” he said, scanning you.

You felt a little faint, and the sweet scent of his cologne only made you more disoriented. “I’m fine. It’s only a few blocks,” you said, but even you could admit your voice sounded weak.

He sighed, eyes falling to the ground. “I know I hurt you a lot back then, but…,” he began, then shook his head. “Even if it’s small, I wanna make it up to you somehow. So…let me walk you.”

You rubbed your bare forearm and inhaled sharply, shutting your eyes for a moment. “Fine,” you forced out and the two of you began walking.

“So…,” said Jungkook after a few moments of uncomfortable silence. “How was your date the other day?”

You groaned. “What we’re not gonna do is this.”

Jungkook chuckled. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “Just curious.”

You watched your hands, clasped in front of you, and sighed. “It didn’t happen,” you said. If nothing else, at least your time with Jungkook made you remarkably comfortable talking to him about your thoughts and feelings. “We cancelled.”

“Why?” he asked, brows high.

You shrugged. “After seeing you, I was kinda crabby so…”

“It was my fault?” He pointed with his free hand to his own chest, eyes wide.

“I mean, yeah but not really,” you said with an easy exhale. “It’s for the best anyway. He seems like a really nice guy. I don’t wanna end up hurting his feelings or something.”

“You’d rather be alone than risk having things end badly?” he asked.

You peered up at him. “Wonder why that is,” you mumbled before glancing away.

He sighed. “Sorry.”

“Mhm.”

The rest of the walk was silent as the two of you were forced to simply live with the words you’d exchanged, unable to do anything to alter the events that led you here. All you could do was walk forward, united under a shared umbrella for just a moment, until you ducked out from beneath it and disappeared down the subway station stairs, not even pausing for a moment to wave or say goodbye.

Blind Date: Yikes, did I really scare you off?

You raised your brows at your phone screen as the subway bumped along. It was too crowded to find a seat, so you stood cramped between a stout businessman and a high school girl, all of you holding the railing overhead for stability. You couldn’t help it, but again you smiled. After all the craziness that had come from the day, this stranger seemed to help you feel at ease.

You: Haha nope! It’d take more than that.

You: I bumped into someone I didn’t want to see, so I had to take care of that.

Blind Date: !!! Same person as before??

You: Yeah, if you can believe it lol.

Blind Date: (o_O)

Blind Date: How unlucky can a person be?

You: That’s what I’m saying. (￢_￢;)

You: That’s actually one of the things I was gonna complain to Sua about.

You: Y’know, teenage heartbreak and high school angst. Etc.

Blind Date: Hey, I said it before. I’d love to listen!

Blind Date: Aight, that was too enthusiastic. How about: I wouldn’t mind hearing you out!

You: Lol, good addendum.

You: I mean, it’s not like it’s really that serious. Just…in high school I was really shy. I didn’t have very many friends and I thought that I was fine on my own, you know?

You: But I guess I was lonelier than I thought haha. There was this really handsome guy in my class who started sitting with me on the roof at lunch. At first, neither of us really said anything. Just…sitting together.

You: But after a while, we got pretty close. Half a school year maybe. He said he came up there because the air was nice, but I had a feeling it had to do with the fact that he was a little too popular for his own good. Everyone wanted to talk to him. But he was like me.

You: Introverted, I mean.

Blind Date: Sounds like you two were good friends, then?

You: Yeah, until I caught feelings lol. Mistake.

Blind Date: You confessed??

You: Hehe…yes.

You: After a while being close, I felt really comfortable telling him anything. I told him it wasn’t like I was expecting him to date me or anything. I just wanted him to know so he could be a little more careful around me.

You: But it seemed like he reciprocated.

You: We started dating…I guess?

You: Never put a label on it, which was another mistake on my part for not asking.

You: But we did everything couples did, just…not really in front of anyone from school.

You: Never asked about that either lol.

Blind Date: Oh…

Blind Date: I mean…that doesn’t sound so good…

You: Haha, it’s probably exactly what it sounds like because once we’d been together for about a year, he ended things really suddenly. We were getting ready to apply for colleges and he was gonna go for one in a different city. He said it wouldn’t work out.

You: I fought really hard for it, but he started saying pretty mean things and I didn’t want to get hurt so I ended up conceding.

Blind Date: Mean things?

You: Things I don’t really wanna type out haha…

Blind Date: Shit! Sorry, sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.

You: Hey, don’t worry! Old wounds. I should probably get over it, really.

You: No time like the present!

You: He said he never really liked me and he was only with me because he felt bad for me. Didn’t really love hearing that.

You: He said because I didn’t have friends, he pitied me. That was why he went to the roof to eat with me. Why he kissed me and all that. Took me on dates. ┐(￣ヘ￣)┌  Pretty dumb, imo, but that’s what he said and it seemed like he meant it anyway lol.

Blind Date: Y/N…

You: Hey, you asked!

Blind Date: That’s really shitty. You didn’t deserve that.

Blind Date: You carried that around with you all these years?

You: Hah, admitting it sounds kinda pathetic, huh?

You: I guess it’s not the sort of thing you just…get over. I think I really loved him too, so…

You: Anyway, seeing him now is really weird. Never thought I’d see him around here again, but suddenly he’s everywhere haha. Definitely doesn’t feel great, tbh.

You: Ew, sorry for laying all that on you. Not exactly small talk.

Blind Date: No!! Don’t apologize. I’m glad you talked to me about it. Honestly…I feel really sorry for you. It sounds like the whole thing affected you a lot. :-(

Blind Date: If it makes you feel better, I think I can understand you a little!

Blind Date: Like I said, I’m a bit shy myself. It’s not an issue of having friends, but finding good ones. It’s hard for me to socialize without saying something dumb and regretting it. So for a while, when I first started college, I isolated myself a lot. I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

Blind Date: But recently, I’ve met some people who are really kind. People who don’t judge me when I mess things up (which is often haha). They help me communicate better.

You: You communicate really well, I think :-)

Blind Date: Haha, thank you. I’m actually blushing a little, whew. Uh, I guess it’s because it’s easier to type things out. Speaking is hard because you can’t just reword things before sending them. You say it out loud and it’s forever, you know?

You: Yeah! Jeez, that actually happened to me today (—_—)

You: I’m glad someone else understands it lol

Blind Date: Yeah, me too.

By the time you received the last message, you were already back inside your apartment, soaked from the walk home. You’d used your bag to cover your phone as you walked and typed, so now the thing was slumped against your dining chair like a sopping wet creature. But still, you smiled at your phone. Even though the conversation with Jungkook had been jarring, you’d almost forgotten it after chatting with your blind date. It felt oddly vulnerable to reveal so much to him, but his reaction had been really reassuring. You set your phone aside and padded to the bathroom to dry yourself a little with a towel, catching sight of yourself in the mirror. Your cheeks were a little flushed, eyes clear, and still smiling. You shook your head, trying to shake off your grin, but when you glanced back at your reflection it was still the same.

With the towel dangling across your shoulders, you returned to the living room and saw your phone lit up with another new text. Smiling, you unlocked it and read what he had to say.

Blind Date: Off topic, but uh…

Blind Date: Did you happen to catch the most recent episode of Game of Thrones?

Blind Date: Because I need to talk about it or I might explode.

You raised your brows and, without meaning to, you laughed. Was this okay? Was it alright to become close to someone like this again? Was it alright to be excited about someone again? You were fearful, cautious, hesitant. After everything with Jungkook, you’d found it impossible to trust people’s intentions. Were they being nice to you because they liked you or because they felt bad for you? Would you get hurt if you trusted the goodwill of the people around you?

You: Um…

You: CAN WE TALK ABOUT ARYA???

You weren’t going to talk to him again.

Well…that was your intention anyway. But by Friday, you’d spent every night up late chatting with this Nochu guy. It wasn’t like you talked about anything all that interesting or profound. Music you liked, games you played, anime you watched. You’d spent the better portion of Thursday night talking about whether Fullmetal Alchemist or Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood was superior. You weren’t sure why you were compelled to respond every time his name lit up your phone. And you really weren’t sure why you were the one reaching out to him now as you sat watching your professor detail the process of molecular movement across a cell membrane.

Perhaps you’d missed making easy conversation with someone you liked talking to…

After high school, you’d become something of a recluse. You spent more nights in than out and despite doing well in your classes, you’d found yourself…slightly lonesome. That’s why when Sua gave you her number after you’d successfully finished a project together a few months ago, you’d been quick to take it. Even though it was a little scary, some small part of you wanted to trust people again.

And maybe that’s why too. Why you were sending this stupid text in the middle of your lecture.

You: Hey dude. You free today?

Blind Date: Hm? Why?

You: Idk, Burger King or smth?

Blind Date: Hehe, are you trying to revive our dead romance?

You: O.O Our romance died already? After one failed date?

Blind Date: Hahaha I mean…you can try giving it CPR if you want…?

Blind Date: Mouth-to-mouth ;-D

You: Yuck, I take it back. Our romance is dead and buried.

You: Anyway, you free?

Blind Date: Uh yeah probs later. I’ve got class until 4.

Blind Date: Does that work for your Burger King plan?

Blind Date: I know it’s hard to get a reservation at that place on short notice >.<

You: I take it all back.

You: I have plans tonight, soz.

You: Talk to ya later, weeb.

You smiled and set your phone down beside your notebook, refocusing on your professor.  But your attention was quickly assuaged by your phone vibrating once more. You smirked down at it and, covertly, read the slew of oncoming text messages with a chuckle.

Blind Date: !!! That’s rude !!!

Blind Date: You can’t just offer a Burger King date and snatch it out from under me like that.

Blind Date: I’ll be mad if you jerk me around >:-(

Blind Date: You see that face? I mean BUSINESS.

You: Calm down lol, I was kidding.

You: Let’s meet at the Burger King next to the ramen place near campus?

Blind Date: Hehe, sounds good :-P

Blind Date: Ah, but don’t be too surprised when you meet me, okay?

Blind Date: I don’t want you fainting when you see my handsome face 8-)

You: Mhm, I’ll be sure not to faint.

Blind Date: I mean…a little fainting is fine…

You: Haha shut up. I’ll see you there. Looking forward to putting a face to the texts!

Blind Date: Hopefully my face doesn’t disappoint lol.

You: Yikes, mine either.

Blind Date: Yours won’t.

Blind Date: Haha, I’m sure you’ll look great. That’s what I meant.

Blind Date: Ew, all of that was hard to read. Forget I said anything hhhhhh.

You smiled fondly at your phone before sliding it into your bag. “You look kinda smitten,” said Sua from beside you.

You jumped and glanced at her as the rest of the class began packing up. She was grinning at you like a co-conspirator, brows low, knowing grin on her face. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been texting someone named Blind Date during every class period for a week,” she said, cocking a brow. “I take it you guys hit it off?”

You felt yourself go warm. Not like with Jungkook the other day, but like something else. Something a little deeper than a physical reaction. Nonetheless, you cleared your throat and smiled at Sua. “He’s a good guy. I think we could be good friends.”

“Friends?” she asked with a laugh, flitting her hand as the two of you stood together. “Sounds boring. Get a smooch or two out of it or it’s a bust.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t really know if he’d be interested in me that way.”

“What about you?” she asked, eyeing you. “Would you be interested?”

You stared at her for a long moment, eyes wide, and opened and shut your mouth a few times. “I…,” you began, then glanced at your feet. You followed her out into the hallway where students hurried by in a flash beside you. “I mean…”

Sua paused her walking to stare back at you, her teasing grin replaced with a genuine one. “Wait, do you actually like him-like him?” she asked, eyes alight.

You stiffened, scratching your arm, and sighed. “Jeez, I don’t know! Maybe,” you said, waving your hands. “Forget it, I’ve got another class soon.”

She laughed as you maneuvered around her through the hall, calling after you. “You’re cute when you’ve got a crush!”

You sat at a booth by yourself at Burger King, waiting for your not-date to show up. It had only been a few minutes and already your anxiety was starting to speak in your ear. He’s not showing up, it whispered, You’re an idiot. And maybe you were. Looking around the fast food joint, you saw more than a few couples, sitting side-by-side or gazing at each other over fried chicken. You didn’t envy them. Not that way. Just…maybe it was the human connection you missed more than anything. Last time you’d been in this situation, you were still deeply in love with Jeon Jungkook.

You were sixteen and you sat twiddling your thumbs on a suburban bench overlooking Seoul. Trees swayed in the summer breeze and carried with them the scent of young hopefulness, naivety in the form of dogwood blossoms. You watched the uneven cityscape before you as it resisted the pull of the wind, and far in the distance, slightly glittering in the sunlight, the Han River. Jungkook had said he’d be there at exactly two. It was ten past, and you were getting a little nervous. You’d confessed not a week prior during the last week of school, and to your shock Jungkook had been receptive. He hadn’t said anything bold like ‘I like you too’ or ‘let’s date’ but he had invited you out for some ice cream and you figured that was much the same thing for him.

Maybe he’s just being nice, you thought to yourself with a sigh. You’d spent a long time picking out the right outfit, getting your hair to lay just right. And still, you didn’t feel quite up to par with him. Girls were always confessing their love for him. Guys too. What made you any different than the dozens of other hopefuls? He probably won’t come…

“Y/N!” called a voice from the winding, hilly street.

You jumped and turned, and your heart swelled as you saw Jungkook running down the sidewalk toward you, grinning from ear to ear. And that was what did you in. That sincerity, that vigor, that enthusiasm…all for you. You stood up to meet him and chuckled as he caught his breath, patting his chest.

“Sorry, sorry,” he said, panting. “My mom started lecturing me, so I got tied up.” After a few moments regaining his composure, he finally looked at you properly and when he did, you noticed his cheeks going red hot, eyes round. “Oh, wow,” he said, glancing away with a jittery laugh. “S-Sorry, you…you look really nice.”

You felt a little faint. You’d spent months pining after this kid, pining after this purity you kept glimpsing in him, and now…

He was saying you looked nice.

It was almost enough to knock the breath out of you.

You smiled at your shoes and rubbed your neck. “Th-thank you,” you said.

He laughed, nervous once more, and gave your shoulder a shove. “Hey, don’t get all clammy on me, okay? Nothing’s weird between us. Just…two pals…on a date.”

You jumped and stared up at him with unbridled surprise. “Date?” you asked, shameless hope in your voice.

He laughed, eyes turning to crescents, and nodded. “What else would it be?” Of course. Of course, since it was Jungkook, the answer was just that simple, wasn’t it?

You swallowed hard and tried to manage your expression, but you couldn’t fight the smile teasing your lips. “Oh,” you said, letting out a breathy laugh.

He examined you for a moment, scanning you. You weren’t used to going out with friends, let alone dating. All of this was new and exhilarating to you. But you felt a sudden wave of shyness that you couldn’t fight off, and a slightly pleasant self-consciousness. You felt him looking at you, and it didn’t feel like he hated looking. You became very aware of your body, each limb, each finger. Still smiling a little, you laughed again, unsure of what else to do. These were uncharted waters, after all.

“Hm,” he said, bending down to meet your eyes. You blushed and leaned away a little, but he was blushing too and it made you feel better knowing perhaps he was just as nervous as you. “Lemme prove it.”

Your eyes went wide, but before you could say or do anything, Jungkook closed the distance between you, tipping his chin so that your lips met. His lips were warm and soft. They tasted like chapstick and banana milk. You didn’t move, not a single muscle, and perhaps this worried him because he was quick to lean away and stare down at you, fresh insecurity on display in his warm brown eyes.

“Sorry! Was that too sudden?” he asked, laughing and glancing away, down the quiet street. “Jeez, I got carried away, huh? Ha, I’m sorry.”

Before he could spiral, you took a timid step forward and pushed yourself onto your toes. Gently, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself nearer to him. He jumped and looked at you with stunned eyes. But you didn’t give him a chance to think too much, because before long you were kissing him, head tilted to the side, eyes shut. Without much pause, his hands found your waist and stayed there, respectful, unsure.

And somehow, you’d summoned the courage to do it. To kiss him back.

Because he showed up, after all.

He didn’t leave you alone…

Fifteen minutes now and you were beginning to worry. You reasoned that at least there were worse places to be stood up. A nice steakhouse, for instance. At least here you weren’t the only solo diner. But nonetheless, the feeling of a deep gut-punch was only growing. Dread and disappointment mingled into a bitter cocktail in the pit of your stomach. Wouldn’t this just be…poetic? Getting stood up for your first date after years of fear and emotional isolation?

Wouldn’t that be exactly what would happen?

Thirty minutes. At first, you tried to tell yourself he was probably just running late from a class. After all, the walk from campus alone was around seven minutes. Maybe he’d gotten released late. Maybe he’d gotten held up with a professor or classmate. You stared at your Whopper with dead eyes now, watching the cold burger as all the heat drained from it. It was too late to save it now. And perhaps it had never been meant for you to eat anyway. Maybe it was your destiny to become a vegetarian or something.

Nonetheless, you sent a text.

Even though it felt pathetic.

You: Hey, uh…we still on for Burger King?

You: No rush, haha.

You: Just a little worried…

Was this revenge for ruining the first date? Some elaborate plot to get back at you? He seemed like a really sweet guy, but so had Jungkook after all. After several minutes without a reply, you began to accept the fact that you’d been thoroughly stood up. Your throat constricted, eyes going a little hazy, and resolved to wait a little longer. Just a little.

Forty-eight minutes. No reply and no date. By then, plenty of customers had come and gone through the front doors, none of them him. You couldn’t bring yourself to take even one bite of food, the money wasted, the time wasted too. How much time had you wasted, really? How much of your life had you spent watering dead plants?

When Jungkook told you he wanted to break up, you’d been in disbelief. The two of you were close, so close it almost hurt, and the sudden end felt like a slap in the face or a jolt to the heart. You’d fought him in his room that night, the sunset turning the ends of his hair gold, turning his eyes gold too. He had no right being so handsome at a moment like that. You asked for a reason and he said he didn’t want any strings going in to college. He wanted to be unaffiliated. But you couldn’t accept that. You couldn’t accept that the time you spent together had meant so little to him, that the relationship was a dead plant from the start.

I was only dating you because I felt bad for you! he’d shouted once he’d had enough. Ever wonder why I never told anyone about us?! You’d been stunned then, stunned silent. Your brain was failing to process his words. He’d never spoken that way to you before. How much time had you spent in love? How much time had he spent pitying you? I was your only friend, for God’s sake! What did you expect me to do?!

Perhaps you’d been right after all. Perhaps giving yourself to other people was too dangerous, too painful. Perhaps loving someone wasn’t worth it, perhaps it could never be completely reciprocal. Perhaps any relationship you had would be a waste of time. Perhaps all you were destined to do was water dead plants until finally, you decided it was enough.

One hour. You stood up from your seat, wiped beneath your eyes as the tears you’d been fighting finally crested over your bottom eyelid, and carried your tray to the garbage. You slid your trash into the bin and, sniffling, wandered out toward the exit. Customers avoided walking too close to you, likely noticing the tears that were now tracking stubbornly down your cheeks. You would have wiped them, had you had the energy to care.

But all you wanted was to go home and be alone.

Alone for a while.

You pushed your way outside, taking in the fresh spring day. No more rain, even though you would have welcomed it. It could have concealed your crying, your red nose and swelling eyes. You could have cowered beneath a bus stop and nobody would have noticed you. Nobody would have noticed.

Instead, the spring day was gorgeous, teasingly beautiful. The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and people milled about through the street, smiling and chatting easily. Sniffling, you wiped your nose and joined them, walking down the sidewalk toward the subway entrance near campus.

You were overreacting. You didn’t even know this guy that well yet. He wasn’t a boyfriend, he wasn’t someone you’d given your whole heart to. He hadn’t betrayed you, because deep down you’d expected this. Maybe that’s what upset you so much. Being proven right.

You exited the crowd of people a block from the Burger King and walked with your head down toward the subway entrance. You were about to step on to the escalator when you heard someone call your name.

“Y/N!”

You turned slowly, eyes bleary from all the crying, and rubbed your tears away to see them clearly. Again, like he had some sort of sense for when you were most humiliated, Jungkook stepped toward you. His face was contorted in worry, thick brows knit, mouth agape as he stared down at you, scanning you.

You sniffled and nodded. “What?” you asked.

“What are you doing?” he asked softly, taking you by the crook of the arm and leading you toward a more sparsely populated alley beside the sidewalk. You didn’t fight. Didn’t have it in you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his own eyes watery as he looked down at you, forcing your head up as he held it between two big, warm hands.

You kept your gaze on the dirty ground. “Let me go,” you said, but it was weak.

“Y/N…,” he whispered, smoothing his thumb against your cheek. “Jesus.”

“What?” you asked, looking at him quick, fierce. “Are you pitying me?”

His eyes went wide and he shook his head. Looking at him now, he seemed pretty shaken himself. Why did the two of you keep bumping into each other like this? “No! No, that’s not it.”

“Then what?” you asked, shaking his hands off your face. “What is it, huh? Here to show off your money? Show me how good you’re doing while I’m working minimum wage? Huh? Do you like feeling superior?”

He swallowed hard, his expression revealing some sort of hurt you couldn’t name. “No! Please, it’s not that! Let me explain-,”

“No! You don’t have any right to ask me to listen to you!” you said, sobbing. You wiped your eyes with your forearm and shook your head. “Just leave me alone! Everyone!” you shouted.

Jungkook took your shoulders in his hands to keep you still and you tried a few times to shake yourself free, but to no avail. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

You kept crying, the ancient pain welling up from inside you like some age-old reserve finally erupting. Your body rocked with the force of your tears. “Isn’t it pathetic? The minute I start trying to reach out, I get stood up?” you asked with a manic laugh. “Doesn’t that just make you feel so good? Aren’t I pitiable?”

Jungkook’s own tears were pooling in his eyes and you could see them there, threatening to fall. “Please,” he said quietly.

You shook your head. “Isn’t this what you want? Someone to look down on? Someone to feel bad for?” you asked, face wet from the tears. “Can’t you just leave me alone?!” you shouted, loud enough to rouse the attention of a few people on the sidewalk behind Jungkook’s back.

Jungkook, without another word, sniffled sharply and pulled you flush against his chest. You struggled against his strong hold for a few moments, writhing, before finally submitting. Without even meaning to, you wrapped your arms around his torso and sobbed into his black shirt. He held you close, resting his cheek on your head. You could have sworn you felt a few tears hitting your shoulder.

But before you could get too comfortable in his embrace, you pushed yourself away and stared at him, bitter, angry, from several feet away. You looked at him like a feral thing, like an alleycat. And the way he watched you was different than it was that day by the bench. It was worried now, like a shadow had crossed over his face.

“I’m sorry-,” he began.

You shook your head and shoved past him. “Don’t talk to me. Ever,” you spat as you walked by, rejoining the stream of people on the sidewalk toward the subway entrance.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” asked Sua as the two of you left class.

Half a week had passed, and you were eager for more time to distance you from that unpleasant day. You’d received a slew of texts from your blind date, all of which had gone unanswered. They ranged from the typical I’m so sorry texts to more in-depth explanations. Apparently, he’d gotten nervous. Cold feet, he’d said. Nervous for what, you didn't know and you wouldn’t ask. You were meeting at a Burger King for God’s sake. What could he have been that nervous about?

You glanced at her and offered a tight smile. “Mhm. I’m good. Just…uh…gotta get to work later so I’m thinking about that,” you said, over-explaining. Of course, lying just wasn’t for you.

Sua sighed and hooked an arm around your elbow, leaning close to you as the two of you walked down the hallway. You edged away just slightly, and it seemed she noticed as she turned to you with wide eyes. You hated to admit it, but everything with that Nochu guy had made you wary of even Sua. They did know each other after all. Had this been one big setup from the start? Were the two conspiring to hurt you?

You shook your head and patted her hand with a smile. Of course not. Of course that was crazy. But…something about this whole thing had you feeling crazy. “Sorry,” you said quietly. “Just…met up with someone from my past the other day and it didn’t feel so good.”

She raised her brows. “What? You never mentioned anyone like that before…,” she said, her brows lowering. She looked a little hurt.

You swallowed hard. “Ah, well it’s no big deal,” you said, flitting a hand with a choppy laugh. “It’s in the past for a reason.”

She pouted. “You know you can talk to me, right?” she said, eyeing you.

And with those words, your chest constricted a little and a small pang of guilt clenched your stomach. You didn’t want to end up hurting her. She was sweet and she wanted to be close to you. But what could you do if you just weren’t ready for that? How could you tell her you may never be ready?

Instead, you turned to her and offered a smile. “I know.”

Blind Date: Y/N…

Blind Date: Please respond. Please.

Blind Date: I really really want to explain everything to you.

Blind Date: I know I really hurt you, but I want to explain.

Blind Date: Isn’t that selfish of me?

Blind Date: To hurt you and then ask you to listen to me?

Blind Date: I’m sorry.

Blind Date: I’m selfish.

You sighed as you watched your phone. The coffeeshop was quiet, fewer patrons now that the design students had finished their projects, and you felt safer looking at the onslaught of texts that just wouldn’t stop flooding your phone. You know you can talk to me, right? That’s what Sua said. She had reached out her hand to you.

And you’d pulled back.

You eyed your phone for a long few moments. Wasn’t it time to stop running away because you were scared of being hurt? Wasn’t it time to stop expecting someone to walk all the way across the tightrope to you and start walking to meet them in the middle instead?

Wasn’t it wrong to punish people for something someone else did?

You: Hey…

You: Sorry I haven’t responded. I just needed space I think.

Blind Date: Shit, I know. I’m so sorry.

Blind Date: You know I care about you though, right?

Blind Date: You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you on purpose, right?

You: I mean, we’ve only known each other a few weeks haha.

You: Honestly, I probably overreacted.

You: After everything that happened with that guy I told you about, I think I’m just a little too sensitive. And I took it out on you. And that was wrong.

Blind Date: No, no! Please don’t apologize. Jesus. It’s entirely my fault. All of it.

You: Haha it’s really not. I shouldn’t hold you and him to the same standards when you’re different people. That’s on me.

Blind Date: Can I see you?

You: Huh? So suddenly? I’m working…

Blind Date: The coffeeshop on campus?

You: Yeah…

You: Don’t come right now though!

You: I won’t be able to talk to you anyway.

Blind Date: I’ll wait. When do you get off?

You: Nine…

Blind Date: I’ll see you at nine.

You blushed, staring down at your screen. Since when was he so direct like this? And why did it make your heart race, just a little?

Sua was right. You definitely had a crush…

You watched the front doors as you began cleaning up the coffeeshop. Closing time was coming soon, and with five minutes until nine you were beginning to feel that festering fear that you’d be stood up again. But as that voice returned to your mind, you were quick to quiet it. You wanted to believe in people again. You couldn’t live your life all alone.

So you swept beneath tables and propped chairs atop them. You cleaned the windows. You hummed a pop song to yourself, trying to keep your mind busy. When you glanced outside, you noticed the spring showers had returned and the rain was falling in bullets from the dark sky. With a sigh, you settled down on one of the recliners by the window, watching cars and buses and people speed by. You wondered which one would come inside despite the sign now reading ‘closed’. You wondered who this person was.

Before you realized it, you were dozing off, struggling to keep your eyes open as you reclined against the comfortable cushions. Your breathing became more rhythmic, deeper in your chest with each inhale, and you snuggled into the back of the recliner with a heavy sigh.

And that’s when you heard it. The distinctive ting of the bell dangling over the front door. Your eyes opened wide and you saw his reflection in the mirror beside you. Tall, dressed in dark clothes, hoodie up over his head and an umbrella in his hand, trailing droplets of rainwater onto the wood floor. You wanted to greet him right away, to get a proper look at him, but with your heart racing the way it was you couldn’t find the courage. It was enough for you just to respond to his texts. And now he was here, corporeal, right behind you.

You shut your eyes tight and feigned sleep.

“Y/N?” he called, and somehow you recognized his voice.

No way.

It couldn’t be…

You kept your eyes shut and curled your knees closer to your chest. Slowly, you heard him mill around the shop before pausing beside your recliner. His footsteps got closer, rounding the side of the chair to stand right in front of you. And, quietly, he laughed. And you were certain now. You knew exactly who he was.

You felt a warm, big hand press against the side of your head, smoothing your hair down, and heard a fond sigh. “Jeez,” he mumbled. You felt him crouch down beside your feet and his arm dropped to rest on the arm of the recliner. He gently rocked the chair back and forth for a moment, humming. “Don’t hate me too much, okay?” he asked in a whisper.

And, without another moment’s hesitation, you opened your eyes and stared right down at him. “Jungkook…?” you asked, scanning his face.

His eyes were round with shock and his whole person was wet. He gazed up at you from where he crouched on the floor and, mouth agape, said nothing. Wordlessly, you reached a hand out and touched his cheek with the pad of your index finger. Soaking wet. You sighed and pushed to your feet. Jungkook stumbled a little to accommodate you as you slipped past him to the counter. You rifled through the cabinets before producing a towel. By then, he’d followed you to the counter and was waiting on the other side. Sighing, you waved a hand, signaling for him to join you behind the register. He jumped and followed your silent command, and suddenly you were staring at his broad chest up close.

You swallowed your nerves and draped the towel atop his head. “Dry off,” you said, hopping up to sit on the counter. The lights in the shop were low, and the music still bumped lowly through the stereo. It might have been romantic, if it was anyone else. “Then we can talk.”

He nodded and fluffed the towel through his hair, obscuring his face from view for a few peaceful seconds. “I…I know I have a lot to explain.”

“Yeah,” you said.

He peeked out from behind the towel with one eye, watching you. “Are you mad?”

“Fuming, actually.”

He nodded and let the towel drop to his shoulders. “I expected that,” he said with a sigh. He came to stand in front of your knees, looking right at you with enough sincerity to knock the breath from your lungs. Just like that first date. “I don’t know where to start.”

“So you know Sua?” you asked, letting your heels bounce against the counter’s cabinets.

“Ah, uh, yeah,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “We’re in the same major, so…”

“And you transferred here?”

“Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes. “It was…no good out in Busan. I missed home too much.”

You nodded, watching your thighs on the counter. “Figures.”

He chuckled wryly. “You know me too well.”

“Thought I did.”

Carefully, he took a single step forward and you jumped, meeting his eyes like a frightened prey. “I never meant for you to carry all that with you for so long,” he said, brows knit and eyes hazy like he may cry. “I didn’t expect you to be so hurt.”

“That’s stupid,” you said. “You can’t tell someone you were only with them out of pity and expect them not to be hurt.”

“I know, I just…Jesus, I’m just stupid,” he said, raking his fingers through his hair. “Since I was moving away, I didn’t want you to waste your time waiting for me to come back, so I wanted to give you a clean break. Since I knew you wouldn’t wanna break up just because of distance.”

You stiffened. “You…what?”

“I didn’t mean it,” he said. “Any of it.”

You felt like you’d been hit right in the diaphragm, like when you play dodgeball and someone throws a ball at your chest. You sat up straighter and stared at him, watching him carefully. “You lied?”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said, meeting your eyes seriously. It really looked like he might have cried. “I didn’t think it was fair to keep you from meeting new people and making new connections.”

“Then why didn’t you tell anyone we were dating?” you asked, brow low, scanning him for any signs of insincerity.

His eyes went wide. “I…I told you before, my high school friends…they weren’t so great,” he said, shaking his head. “I meant it when I was texting you about all that. How t’s hard for me to find good people.”

“And you didn’t show up to Burger King last time because…?”

He sniffled. “I meant what I said about that too. I was…really nervous. I was scared you’d be disappointed when you found out it was me.”

You sighed. “Why weren’t you just honest with me from the start?” you asked, all animosity draining from your voice as you saw him wiping his red, swelling eyes. “Back in high school. Why didn’t you just tell me all of it then?”

He sniffed and looked away. “I was scared you’d think less of me if you knew I was so insecure. And I didn’t want you to wait for me in college, not when you could’ve been out making new friends.”

“Well, the opposite happened actually,” you said with a dry laugh. “I got really worried that any friends I made would be doing it out of pity.”

Jungkook stiffened. “You…you did?”

You nodded. “Yeah…”

“Shit,” he breathed out, gripping his forehead with two hands. “I’m so stupid!”

Distantly, the sound of the rain picked up outside. You nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said, looking at you once more, startling you with his sincerity. “I messed up so bad. I messed up everything.”

You blinked at him, standing nearly at eye-level, and slowly reached out to wipe beneath his eyes with your fingertips. “Well, you were right about one thing. I wouldn’t have accepted it had you not said what you said.”

He furrowed his brow and leaned into your touch. “I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you,” you said.

He swallowed hard and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “Really?”

“Well, yeah,” you said with a shrug. “Now that I know everything, it’s hard to be mad at you for being a jerk when you were really just being an idiot.”

He stared at you, inching forward so he rested just between your knees. “I’m so sorry,” he said again.

“Yeah, I know,” you said, letting out half a chuckle as you let your hands drop to his shoulders, giving them a pat.

“Really,” he said, nodding once as he stared right into your eyes.

“Jungkook, it’s-,”

Before you could finish, he had closed the distance between you, one hand grasping your jaw as he pressed a kiss to your lips. You jumped back, eyes wide, and stared at him in shock. He too looked shocked, like he hadn’t meant to do it at all. He shook his head, eyebrows knit, stuttering out syllables that didn’t add up to anything.

“I-I-you-I mean-,” he sputtered, irises shaking. You noticed no small margin of fear in his eyes, like he was terrified he’d messed things up again.

I didn’t want to make any more mistakes, you know?

The words he’d trusted you with through the screen, his sincere thoughts. He really regretted it a lot, didn’t he? Your expression softened as he continued struggling to find words, and, without even really meaning to, you wrapped your fingers around his neck. He didn’t seem to notice, or he was too spooked to comment on it, but you slowly pulled him closer. Just like that day in high school, just like it was when you’d first entered hopefully into this fateful relationship, you leaned in and pressed your lips against his, shutting your eyes. Stunned, he was completely still for a moment before eventually his hands moved to your hips, then slid along your sides, then hooked around your lower back. You hadn’t intended it, but the kiss was getting steamier with each passing moment. You felt his hot breath on your skin as he pulled back to adjust his position before crashing into you again.

As the fever settled down, Jungkook was the first to pull away, but only by a faction so he could speak. “I love you,” he whispered.

You stared wide-eyed at him, only inches away from you, eyes heavy-lidded and forehead resting just barely against yours. “O-Okay,” you said. It was all you could manage.

He chuckled once, still embracing you as he stood between your legs. “That’s it?”

“You expect me to say it back?” you asked.

He smiled, staring down at you. “I guess not.”

“You’re gonna have to give me some time,” you said with a nod.

He nodded too, shutting his eyes as he held you close. Slowly, he moved to rest his forehead against your shoulder, resting against the crook of your neck. “I understand.”

“Like…a lot of time probably.”

“I know.”

You let out a shaky exhale and only then did you realize your hands were shaking. As silly as it seemed, this reunion was pretty jarring to your system. The foundation on which you’d rebuilt your sense of self had broken down beneath your feet, leaving you to stand among the rubble once again. Just like back then. Everything you thought you understood had been proven wrong.

But nonetheless, you smoothed your palms against his back and rubbed gently. Not to comfort him, but to comfort yourself. To let yourself know that, even though it was scary, it was okay to trust people sometimes. Self preservation shouldn’t come at the sacrifice of human connection. And even though you knew the road ahead was going to be long and that trusting Jungkook again would take a long time and a lot of work on his end, you were ready to try.

So, as the two of you left the shop under one umbrella, you drafted a text.

You: Sua, I have SO MUCH to tell you.

[mcwriting]

starstruck (5)

It’s finally here!!! I’m so sorry this took literally 5ever but it’s here now! Ch 6 is also written but I don’t plan on releasing it until 7 is done. In the meantime, I’ll be releasing some other things I’ve had in the works for a while so be on the lookout for those ;)

Thanks to all who’ve followed me and been reading! I love you!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9

Fandom: Tommy Holland 

Ship: Tom Holland x Reader

Setting: LA in general

Word Count: 2013

Warnings: a little bit of language; general sad time emotions

Rating: K+ still i guess

                            __________________________________

You had run up the stairs upon entering your house, yelling out a quick “hey I’m home” to your parents to keep from rising suspicion. 

You tossed your bag onto your desk chair and went and sat on the big bean bag in the corner of your room, curling up into it under a blanket. 

It was nearing 4 o’clock and you knew that the beans would be spilled any moment now. 

You were absolutely nauseous.

You refreshed Instagram over and over until a notification came up at the top of your feed.

Tomholland2013 started a live video. Watch it before it ends!

Tears slipped down your cheeks again and you clicked on it, turning up the volume as the obviously anguished face of your worst nightmare appeared on the screen. The way his eyes puffed unnaturally led you to believe he, too, had been crying. 

He waited a few seconds for people to join and weakly smiled. It broke your heart to see him in this state, but it pained you even more to know how it had come to this.

“Hey, everyone,” he began quietly, waving to the camera. You recognized the background photos from his hotel room and continued to weep harder.

Comments were rolling in, concerned fans asking Tom if he was okay and what was going on. Even some of his celebrity friends appeared to be confused in the comments.

“I wanted to address some rumors going on about me and the mystery girl. That girl is y/n y/l/n. We met by accident at the premiere last week and snapped a photo together as I’m sure you’ve all seen. Fast forward to only a few days ago, when I helped take her to the hospital.”

He paused. Comments were getting more frequent as the live stream continued, more people joining by the second. 

Your breath was caught in your throat and chest was heavy and tight.

Am I having a panic attack? you thought before Tom continued.

“I took y/n to the hospital because she injured her head and I happened to be at the right place at the right time. That’s all that happened. We have only met those two times and I am happy that I was there when she needed help.”

You help back sobs at this point, not wanting to alarm your parents but unable to suppress the emotions you felt about his lying.

“Every other theory or suspicion is false. Those photos were of me driving her to the doctor. Y/n and I have had no contact since the incident, so please don’t bother her any further. I just wanted to come on and say y/n, I hope you’re feeling better and doing well, and to let all of you fans know the truth.”

He looked away from the camera when he said “truth,” and you were angered more.

This wasn’t the truth. This wasn’t okay. This wasn’t the Tom you’d come to know and even consider a friend. 

“Finally, thank you all for the support on the movie and I love seeing your reactions. I will resume doing press this weekend when I head to South Korea and then China next week. I’m glad I could share this film with you and once again, I hope you’re feeling better y/n and that we could possibly meet again when you are okay. Thank you all.”

He gave a final wave and slight grin before ending the stream, struggling to tap the button multiple times and swearing a bit as he finally did it.

You wanted to throw your phone across the room and smash it to pieces and simultaneously lock yourself in the closet and never leave. Another part of you yearned to scream the truth over the rooftops and tell the world how horrible Tom was for this.

Now I know why I never liked him you imagined again. 

You finally worked up the courage to send one message to b/f/n.

I’m sorry.

You hit send and seconds later another text came through from someone else.

I’m so sorry. It’s done.

Who from? 

Clara twinkletoes, of course.

You tossed your phone away from you on the carpet and snuggled further into the bean bag, trying to muffle the sounds of sobs with your blanket.

                             __________________________________

Your parents called you down for dinner, but food wasn’t on your mind in the slightest.

You probably looked like you’d been hit by a truck as you made your way down the stairs, and your mom and dad noticed immediately.

“Oh my gosh, baby. What happened?” your mother fawned, rushing to you and placing her hands softly on your cheeks. 

“Tom Holland,” you mumbled, defeated. 

“Is that some boy I need to put in his place?” your dad asked sincerely, brows furrowed. 

You shook your head slightly and pulled away from your mother. 

“I thought that was the actor boy b/f/n likes but you don’t. Didn’t she go meet him last week?” she inquired.

“Look up his name online, I’m sure you’ll find the fabricated story somewhere.”

You apathetically began building your plate, scooping some lasagna out and grabbing a small bit of salad as your parents scanned the TMZ article that had been published with the help of an “anonymous source.”

“The source says y/l/n has shown previous disdain for the ‘Spider-Man’ star, but is grateful for the help he extended in her dire situation. Her social media is booming as both fans and haters flock to ask about her encounter, but no word has been published by her yet. It’s only a matter of time before the California native makes a statement. Most are calling her lucky, and we don’t blame her,” your mom read aloud. 

You thought you had no tears left to cry before, but more slipped down your cheek as you slid into a chair at the dining table.

“What is this?” your mom asked as she and your dad looked up from the article to you.

You started explaining everything over your dinner halfheartedly, trying not to let your emotions continue to get the best of you. 

They reacted with both concern and surprise as you told the story from beginning to present, choosing not to leave out the part where Tom had secretly been in the house a few nights previous. 

The lie was over, and the only way to move forward was with the truth, no matter how your parents would react. 

Upon finishing the tale, you looked up from your barely eaten meal to find both parents eyeing you sympathetically. 

“That’s it. That’s everything. Punish me how you see fit. Nothing could be worse than what I’ve already been through today.”

“Honey, we aren’t going to punish you. You’re an adult and you made some decisions that you can’t un-make. The consequences have already presented themselves. What matters now is how you move on from this,” your mom began. 

“And we’ll be behind you every step of the way,” your dad finished. 

You couldn’t help but smile and stood to hug them, welcoming their warm embraces. While cherishing the moment, you still couldn’t help but fear for b/f/n’s reaction.

“We may have to talk about you being able to sneak a boy into the house under our noses, though,” your father joked as you leaned into their arms.

                             __________________________________

You readied for bed after spending a few hours curled into the couch watching evening programming. 

You hadn’t looked at your phone once since receiving that text from Tom and dreaded looking at it, but decided to do so anyways. 

You saw that there was a message from b/f/n but decided to ignore it for now. 

Snapchat was filled with snaps from friends and acquaintances who had learned of the incident already. 

Leaving them on read was the only feasible option right now.

A quick scan of Instagram and Twitter shot your anxiety through the roof and you refused to make any posts just yet. 

The world would just have to wait for your mental health to improve.

Eventually you worked up the nerve to open the text from b/f/n, ignoring all others from family and other close friends. 

This isn’t you, it began.

You have a lot of explaining to do if you expect me to understand or forgive you, but I’m not writing you off just yet

Let me know when you’re ready to talk.

You honestly couldn’t believe it. 

Sure, you two had been friends for years and been through thick and thin, but you also knew how she could react in anger and be unforgiving for a long time. 

It took about 20 minutes of you staring at her texts and pacing the room to think up a reply, and your words still would never make up for all of it.

I really don’t know if I am ready to share, but I swear on my life that you’ll be the first to hear from me when I am. I’ll be in touch soon. Thank you, I love you.

With that, you placed the phone on the charger on do not disturb and you crawled onto the bed.

A certain scent hit you like a truck upon laying down. 

You inhaled sharply and tensed. 

That damned cologne was still there.

Sleeping like this was not an option, so immediately you got back up, headed out the door, and made your way to the guest room.

That would have to work tonight, and tomorrow you would have to decide between washing or burning your bedsheets. 

Those thoughts didn’t make it too far, though, because almost immediately after your head hit the pillow, you were out like a light.

                             __________________________________

You couldn’t do anything.

All day you had stayed in, afraid to be seen in public and even worse, be confronted about this. You couldn’t even make yourself go to dance in avoidance of your classmates.

Instead, you spent the day managing your anger and sadness through working out for almost two hours and eventually breaking down on the floor of your makeshift home gym. 

Your mom had taken off from work to keep watch of you and came in upon hearing you. She sat down on the floor and embraced you, ignoring the sweat covering your body and clothes. 

After finally managing to get up, you headed back upstairs and hopped into a long hot bath. Maybe that would cleanse you of all of this.

It didn’t. 

Later, you stripped your bed of the sheets and tossed them in the wash, dumping a scoop and a half of laundry detergent in for good measure. You also misted the bare mattress and pillows with linen spray just in case. 

You wouldn’t let anything remind you of him. 

The day went by too slowly as isolation set in. You couldn’t check social media because your feed was overloaded with inquiries, and you couldn’t talk to your friends because they were just as bad as the fans and haters. 

You were now sitting watching youtube videos while your mom watched tv. You weren’t paying attention until you heard the volume go up.

Upon looking up at the screen, you saw that she was watching Entertainment Tonight and they were running a story on you. 

It felt like your stomach had dropped to the floor when your name was said by one of the journalists. Even though you knew that what they’d say was false, you couldn’t look away. 

They basically recapped everything Tom and the TMZ article had said, but also mentioned that you had been talked about on other talk shows and gossip sites all night and day. 

Your mom gave you a sympathetic look, but you chose to ignore it all, rolling your eyes and continuing to try to figure out how to move on. 

Eventually you would have to leave the house and talk about it all, but today was necessary for self care and reflection.

                             __________________________________

That’s it for this one! It’s realllllll dramatic but oh well haha. Thanks for reading and sorry it took so long to put out!

If you wanna be added to the tag list, please send an ask or message bc I can’t reply to comments on posts since this is a side blog :(

Tag List: @marvel-lously, @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @worn-off

[kireihan]

[fic] anosaa

ship: mammon x reese

words: 1,332

summary: while the others sang of loving words, or laughed over silly phrases, he could only look down at the markings that simply mocked him.

a/n: no plot only word vomit but i love them anyways, also wow?? actual written content from me that isn’t a spicy mtl? hell yee

--------------

“Soulmates. They say it’s a wonderful thing, to meet another being, handcrafted by the universe to perfectly complement you. To make an incomplete being whole. Theorists say that during the big bang, two atoms-”

“Catch a load of that bullshit.” He turned off the TV. Falling back into his chair, Reese covered his eyes with the back of his wrist, the remote falling to the group with a sharp clatter. Whatever, he could pick it up later. Swinging his legs over the armrest, Reese hung his head back and stared at the poster covered wall as the blood rushed to his head. “Maybe I’ll just sleep like this tonight, my bed is cold anyways.” he said to nobody. Reese lived alone after all. Feeling bitter, Reese sat up properly again, feeling lightheaded as the blood rushed out. Why was he even in this sort of mood again?

Oh that’s right. Soulmates. Everyone seemed to have one. He had been reminded of this unwittingly by his online friend that he had been gaming with earlier. “Look at this! Matching armor! We could be like soulmates in this game.” Reese had simply laughed it off, although his mood was now spoiled. Apologizing, Reese had saved and logged off. 

The plan had been to make some dinner, more specifically another pot of instant ramen. While waiting for water to boil, Reese had pulled out his phone and scrolled through his feeds on Instagram and Twitter. Opening the stories, he was met with images of happy people holding and showing off their colorful soulmate marks on their wrists. The phone was immediately put away, he didn’t want to go there. Putting the boiled water aside, Reese opted for some icecream. He couldn’t be assed to cook anymore. If his stomach hurt in the morning it hurt in the morning.

Lazily lounging on his bed, Reese rolled onto his side and blinked as his phone lit up with a new notification. It was his coworker friend.

reese! guess what! i found my soulmate!

A bitter taste formed in his mouth.

aaaaa that’s great! 

This wasn’t fair.

I know right~ and he’s wonderful! lemme spill the tea hold on hgfjkdghsl

He should be happy for his friend. Deciding to just read whatever she sent in the morning, Reese put his phone down. His light blue eyes glanced over the words on his wrist.

Or the lack thereof. 

The bold, gothic-font looking wisps stared back at him. They were still black, dull, and nonsensical. “Seriously.” Reese grumbled, seeing how the tattoo he got over it was fading once again. Everyone was born with their soulmate’s first words to them on their inner wrist, whether it was French, Chinese, English, Arabic, German- but no. Not him. He was delightfully blessed with these weird symbols. They didn’t match any language. He had researched on Quora, posted on Reddit and joined a few communities that helped you find your soulmate. Yet no lead, nothing. Reese had given up a years or two ago. He couldn’t remember. 

Rolling over, he hugged a pillow, burying his face into the soft material. “Maybe this is the universe telling I’ll just die alone or something,” he laughed out loud. It wasn’t funny, and before he knew it, memories were flooding into his mind and out onto his pillow. 

“Ew that is that?! Teacher he’s creepy! He doesn’t even have words!”

Stop it.

“Don’t worry, you don’t need someone to make you whole. You can live by yourself.”

I know, but I’m lonely

“Why can’t you just be normal? You’re so weird with your cringe hair and strange symbols.”

I want to be normal too.

This sucked. Reese snuggled under the blankets, closing his eyes and curling up, his arms still holding tightly around the pillow. Hearing a rustling noise, Reese decided that was too much thinking. If it was the stalker breaking into his home from that joke letter he replied to about 2 weeks ago then so be it. Maybe they would be his soulmate. 

Never in his wildest dreams would be imagine being in Hell. Or whatever they called it. Devildom? RAD? Was this an illusion? Did he get killed by a stalker that broke into his house? “I’m sure you’re all feeling very shocked-”

“I- phhfsh yeAh-” Reese stuttered, looking at the self-called demon in front of him. He turned to the other humans in the room and tried to figure out what was even happening anymore. They simply looked back at him and shook their heads. After a long explanation that Reese had a hard time following, they were suddenly. being paired up. A black haired girl went with “Satan” and the demon called Asmodeus led a cheerful freckled girl out of the hall. One by one they were paired up, leaving Reese alone. Again. 

“Ah, there seems to be a mix up, give us a few minutes.” Diavolo smiled apologetically, checking a list and talking to the demon next to him. The black haired one, Lucifer frowned and sighed, pulling out a phone and calling someone. Reese stood there a little dumbfounded. After some angry yelling and quiet threats, Lucifer hung up the phone. 

“Mammon will be here in just a few moments-”

“I’M HERE-” a loud voice echoed in the room, following a loud slamming open of the door. Reese wasn’t able to properly see who entered before the white haired man was up in Lucifer’s face complaining. Ah, he must be Mammon. “Now why do I have to do this? You know I’ve got things to do! The Great Mammon-” yep, definitely Mammon. “-is too busy to look after some human! Oi! Stop looking at me like that, wait fine I’ll do it....”

“Anosa, I’m not just doing this because I’m scared of lucifer or anything-” Mammon turned around to address Reese, and indignant pout on his face. Reese could feel his breath hitch slightly. As confusing as the whole thing was, the men in the room were certainly fine as fuck, but this one. This one took the bill. Even so, the words stung slightly. “So just listen to what I say and don’t give me trouble, ya hear me??”

“I’d throw my wallet at you-” Reese muttered under his breath, before clearing his throat. Mammon tilted his head a little bit, not clearly hearing what Reese said. Reese’s face flushed a bright red, and he held up his hands. “Wait no no no I’m sorry, but I’m sure I can figure out my way around so you really don’t have to or anything, I’ll just find a directory or something.” Reese ran his fingers through his purple hair nervously, suddenly feeling self conscious. Mammon grabbed Reese’s wrist suddenly, disbelief etched on his face. “Wha-what is it.”

“This is Devilspeak.” Mammon muttered in disbelief, and Reese blinked. Nani the fuck did Mammon say? Looking down at the gothic font, it had bloomed into a brilliant mix of rainbow colors. It had activated. Mammon immediately dropped Reese’s wrist and pulled up his sleeve, looking giddy. On his inner wrists was some english words, also blooming the rainbow colors. 

“I think we match!” Match? It was activated? Reese furrowed his eyebrows, eaning in to see what was written on Mammon’s wrist. Sure enough, there it was. I’d throw my wallet at you. Mammon looked back up at Reese and smiled widely, his white teeth flashing. He looked as if he was a puppy offered 50 treats. Reese felt his stomach sink. So this was his legacy. “So will you actually do it- Ow! Hey!” Mammon was cut off by Lucifer smacking him across the back of the head quite hard.

“How strange, we were wondering why that appeared on him a while ago.” Lucifer leaned over Mammon’s shoulder and looked over the colorful markings. “It’s been a while since demon’s have gotten these.”

“This is Mammon, second born brother and the Avatar of Greed. He seems to be your soulmate.”

[under-the-blue-sun]

THE 882 FILES. - chapter two

story summary:  When their space pod unexpectedly loses power, Dan and Phil - two crew members from the International Space Station - suddenly find themselves revolving far above the strange atmosphere of an alien planet, and must now find a way to survive as they wait for help to arrive.

story word count: 4057

rating: teen & up audiences

warnings: profanity

song of the chapter: cherry bomb - the runaways

notes: yes yes i'm late i’m using the same excuse as last time i'm sorry !! look but i am gay and i can't count days so if you're mad.. homophobia.

link to ao3 (would highly recommend reading on ao3 due to formatting changes on tumblr!)

“Captain?”

 Captain P.J. Liguori huffed and trudged to the door. 

 “What do you want?” he demanded, swinging the door open aggressively.

 The person at the door clicked their tongue. “I believe it was you who sent me for your coffee, Peter Jones.”

 PJ rolled his eyes. “For the last time, stop guessing my name.”

 Chris smirked and walked in the office, tray in hand. He set down the cup of coffee with his milk and bags of sugar, trying to catch PJ’s eye. In all his years of working with PJ, he had never seen him this glum. Ordinarily, PJ would try to be positive about everything that approached him. Today, PJ was positive about nothing. He ignored Chris’ smiles and continued scrolling through his phone. Chris took a peek at his screen.

 “I thought you were quitting Twitter,” Chris said, pouring the sugar into the coffee.

 PJ sighed. “Can’t exactly be keeping off social media at a situation like this, can I?”

 “Here’s your coffee, Captain.” Chris said, pushing the cup forward. “How are you doing?”

 PJ glanced at the coffee. “Not well,” he said, stirring the coffee. “Also, can I have a long black instead?”

 “No. We haven’t got the time for worrying about coffees today. You have a lot to do today.” Chris said, secretly pleased that he had an excuse to not remake PJ’s coffee. 

 PJ nodded gloomily. “Alright. Read them off for me, then.”

 Chris pulled out his clipboard and cleared his throat. “Well, you have to announce the official numbers of the incident in 1 hour, followed by time with the press, questions from the audience, etcetera. Then, you have a meeting with the CEOs of all the companies on the ISS which I estimate would be around two hours. After that, we managed to book you an interview with the BBC tonight, so please wrap up so we don’t be late for that.”

 “Jesus Christ.”

 “Quite a lot to do.”

 “I can see that.” PJ said. “So I’m announcing the official numbers in an hour?”

 “Correct.” Chris replied.

 PJ hesitated. “So what are the official numbers?”

 “Overall, it’s 132 dead, 15 injured and 2 missing. For BPS, it’s 10 dead, 3 injured and 2 missing.”

 “Oh God, those are terrible numbers.” PJ said.

 “Here’s the list of names.” Chris said.

 PJ skimmed the list. “Macsen Crane, Victoria Guy, Loretta Hess, Daniel Howell, Kason Kumar, Ca-”

 PJ paused. “Captain Philip Lester.”

 “Peej? Are you okay?” Chris asked.

 “I’m fine. Kendall, is this the list of the dead?” PJ asked.

 “The dead and missing, Captain. Are you sure you’re fine?” Chris frowned, watching as PJ quickly wiped his cheek.

 “I’m sure.” PJ assured. “Who’s dead and who’s missing?”

 “I don’t know. I was just given this list of names.” Chris replied.

 “Kendall, go and ask for the specifics.”

 Chris nodded. “Yes, Captain.” he said, and scurried out of the office

 PJ closed his eyes. Please, God, do not let Phil Lester be dead.

SC LOCATION: SPACE SHUTTLE 882 - CONTROL ROOM

 Phil: We’re dead. Oh god, we’re dead.

 [Dan taps Phil on the shoulder, who finally opens his eyes and looks at Dan who’s smiling at him]

 Dan: Captain. We’re alive. We did it. We made it.

 Phil: Oh my god.

 [Phil pulls Dan in a tight embrace. He lets Dan go awkwardly]

 Phil: Sorry. It’s just-

 [Dan nods]

 Dan: It’s fine. 

 [Dan smiles slowly]

 Dan: We made it. We actually made it.

 Phil: And with 30 seconds to spare. We should have taken our time.

 [Dan and Phil both laugh, tears of happiness streaming down their cheeks]

LOCATION: ??

DATE: 25/06/2053

TIME: ??

DAYS IN SPACE: 1

 USER: Mr Daniel Howell

 My name is Dan Howell, pilot of the 882, assistant to Captain Philip Lester and flying to fuck-knows-where. I’m here because I barely survived the International Space Station’s first emergency situation after 53 years of safe work in space.

 It felt good surviving, at first. We had just made it, fire right at our tail. But when we looked back, half the ISS still burning, we felt sick. If we had barely managed to make it, we couldn’t imagine how many people didn’t.

 Fire in open space is weird as hell. On Earth and on the ISS, fire causes the surrounding atmosphere to thin and expand and flames rise with the pull of gravity at the base of the flame. The oxygen makes sure it burns until it runs out of fuel.

 In open space, the hot air from the flame still thins and expands, but as it’s without gravity, the shape of fire is more like a dome. Instead of flickering, the fire orb sort of just hovers there. The oxygen molecules drift into the fire, meaning the flame still manages to persist, but it’s slower and more sluggish because there’s not that much oxygen to deal with.

 It’s weird. Also kind of cool. Everyone loves the idea of fire in space, including me. My first experiment on the ISS was playing with fire in microgravity. Looking back, it was actually pretty dangerous. Jayden Hebert almost caught on fire, which was hilarious but also terrifying. Adrenaline was boiling in my stomach and we were all shaking with excitement.

 Now, my stomach hurts and I am shaking but for all the wrong reasons. The captain nor I have any idea about how many people did or didn’t make it out. There's a possibility that someone we know could be in there, slowly dying, and that scares the both of us. 

 If I seem upset, the captain is even more distressed. I didn’t have any friends on the ISS. I didn’t talk, or know anyone that well. But the captain is an all-round good kind of guy who was friends with everyone on the station. He hasn’t said it to me, but he feels guilty for surviving. 

 He shouldn’t feel guilty for long, though. We’ve realised that we’re going to die on the ship, and there’s not really much we can do about that.

 You see, these shuttles were created and packed by NASA, purely for emergency purposes. Outside of that, not really any use of them. The only thing mechanics have to do with them is make sure that they’re functional, and since there hasn’t been any emergencies on the ISS in the 54 years of running, they’ve kind of been slack for doing that as well.

 Shuttle 882 broke after Allen Stephenson got drunk and spilt his beer inside two years ago, and the mechanics got really mad at him and told him to fix his own problem. Of course, Allen’s an idiot and doesn’t know shit about repairing a fucking shuttle, and even if he did, he didn’t have the proper tools to repair anything, so there wasn’t much he could do. The mechanics knew that. Like I said, there hasn’t been an emergency in the ISS until yesterday. Fixing a random shuttle in Locker 5 was really none of anyone’s concern.

 However, this does pose as a problem for me and the captain now. Allen the Fuckface managed to spill his beer in a lot of places, but most importantly, the teleporter and communications area. Normally, protocol for an emergency is to use the shuttle to immediately teleport the ship to Earth. They made this super easy for us, making a button which only allowed you to teleport to our home planet. However, obviously, Allen managed to mess that up which means that we are 100% screwed. 

 In cases like this, normally, you would communicate with mission control, and they would send an unmanned ship to collect you from the coordinates you send over. However, Allen spilt his beer all over the coordinate tracker and, more importantly, the SOS messenger, meaning that we have no way to communicate with Earth or know where we are. 

 Yeah. Fuck Allen.

 SC LOCATION: SPACE SHUTTLE 882 - MAIN ROOM

 [Dan walks into the main room]

 Dan: Good news and bad news, Captain.

 [Phil looks up from the communications panel he is trying to fix]

 Phil: Let’s hear the good news first.

 Dan: Well, the good news is that NASA always prepares for an emergency by packing way too much food. I counted, and we have exactly 100 freeze-dried meals.

 Phil: That sounds good, but even if we both only have half a meal a day, that’s only going to last us for just over three months.

 Dan: That’s the bad news.

 [Phil chuckles sorrowfully]

 Phil: So, we’re fucked.

 Dan: Pretty much.

 [Phil sighs]

 Phil: Any good news, Howell?

 Dan: This shuttle is an older design from ‘32, so there’s a bedroom with a double bed.

 Phil: That’s good, but I feel like there’s a catch.

 Dan: That is the only bedroom, so, we either have to draw straws or we have to take turns sleeping on the bed.

 Phil: Right.

 [Silence hangs in the room]

 Dan: Well, you’re my superior officer, so you can take the bed. I can sleep on the couch. 

 [Phil stands up]

 Phil: Well, you said it was a double bed.

 [Dan nods slowly]

 Dan: Yes I did, Captain.

 Phil: Well, that’s it, then. We’re grown men. We can share the bed. 

 Dan: Right. Of course. No problem sharing a bed with my captain.

 Phil: Absolutely. And vice versa. No problem sharing a bed with my...uh...pilot.

 Dan: Definitely.

 [Silence awkwardly hangs in the room yet again]

 Phil: Any other problems we need to deal with either than...you know…SOS messenger and all?

 Dan: Yeah. Uh, no. No more problems. Not that sharing a bed is a problem.

 Phil: No, of course not. Uh…

 Dan: Yeah, I’ll just leave you to try and fix the messenger and teleporter while I plan out our meals.

 Phil: Yeah. Cool.

 [Phil crouches back down to stare intensely at the communications battle]

 [Dan leaves the main room]

LOCATION: ??

DATE: 25/06/2053

TIME: ??

DAYS IN SPACE: 1

 USER: Mr Daniel Howell

 So apparently, I am now sharing a bed with the captain.

SC LOCATION: SPACE SHUTTLE 882 - EATING ROOM

 Phil: So, is this half of the meal?

 Dan: Yep.

 [Dan and Phil prod their food]

 [Dan begins eating the food]

 Phil: Oh, fuck this.

 [Phil gets up and gets the full meal]

 Dan: Captain-

 Phil: I don’t care, alright? I would rather live for 100 days with a full meal rather than this half-ass shit. 

 [Phil sighs]

 Phil: I’m sorry for that. It’s just such a stupid situation.

 Dan: You’re right, it is. We barely survive from a fire and plunge ourselves into what? Starving and thirsting to death. It’s like the universe wants us dead.

 Phil: No. Don’t say that. The universe does not want us dead.

 [Phil grabs Dan’s hand]

 Phil: We are going to get out here. As your captain, I promise you that I will get us out of here. We will survive these hard days, and we will return to Earth. Understood?

 [Dan doesn’t reply]

 Dan: Not I, Captain. We.

 Phil: Sorry?

 Dan: You may be my superior, but it isn’t just your responsibility to get us out of here. This is on both of us, Captain. We can’t get out of here unless we work together. 

 [Phil smiles]

 Phil: Of course. Not I. We.

SC LOCATION: SPACE SHUTTLE 882 - LEISURE ROOM

 Phil: So? Any good movies?

 Dan: Not really. There’s the X-Men movies.

 Phil: Hugh Jackman or Jayden Benton?

 Dan: Jackman, of course. Why would they bring those Benton ripoffs on here?

 Phil: True. Anything else?

 Dan: The old Harry Potter movies. Some random rom-coms. War movies. Animated films. Space movies, unsurprisingly. I haven’t heard of most of them, and there’s a lot.

 Phil: Well, we have plenty of time. What should we watch tonight?

Aladdin (1992): 1 hour 31 minutes

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 Aladdin (1992) downloaded

[tessatechaitea]

Justice Society of America #10 (1993)

Fact: Golden Age heroes didn't have penises.

I was starfished on my bedroom floor tonight staring at the ceiling and thinking about how in my teens and twenties, I could revel in it, thinking, "Who am I? Who will I become? What does life have in store for me?" But a grown ass man doing that simply thinks, "This is it, isn't it?" At least I can lose myself in reading comic books I've already read and which I didn't really enjoy that much the first time. It might sound like a waste of time but it gives my life meaning! The most shallow of meanings, sure. But at least I'm not growing old watching conservative news because I need anything at all to light my passion. I'll say this about Fox News: they understand how old people are so bored they'll watch the dumbest shit and then get mad about it. I know other people who aren't old also watch Fox News. I don't know what the fuck is wrong with them. I guess they have fears and hatreds I hope I'll never truly understand. I just don't understand watching Fox News (or any of the other non-propaganda 24 hour news sites). People do understand there are channels which show programs that make you laugh or feel merry or that simply entertain the other non-lizard parts of your brain, right? How do you pick Fox News when you can watch Sci-fi or Buzzr Comedy Central or the Ru-Paul's Drag Race all day channel? I just realized that the people who watch Fox News basically use Twitter the same way. The majority of my feed are funny people so even when they're discussing politics, it's always entertaining (or fiercely intelligent because witty people are smart. Dumb people think they're witty (see Mike Huckabee)). But when I check out the Twitter feeds of conservatives I know, at best they'll retweet a sports tweet sandwiched between forty retweets of Ben Shapiro and Dinesh Souza. Maybe they think some of the right wing pundits they follow are funny. But calling somebody a mean name or tagging everything "liberal tears" isn't funny. It's the kind of funny that the bully's weasely sidekick guffaws over and then says, "You tell 'em, Jimmy!" Speaking of things bullies would say, it's now time for me to criticize Len Strazewski's Justice Society. Previously, some old fart named Kulak made everybody in the world begin to hate. But they aren't just randomly hating everybody else. They really seem to be bonding over their hatred for the Justice Society of America. Is this story a metaphor about me and my hatred of this comic book? Because that would be a terrible metaphor seeing as how I don't really hate this comic. I wish I did though! I'm old and I need to feel passion! I bet if I hadn't dropped cable eighteen years ago, I'd be addicted to Fox News too! No, I wouldn't be. I'm as liberal as you can be while still making offensive jokes. So not really that liberal, I guess? Maybe I'm socially, economically, and politically liberal. But I'm a complete asshole when it comes to punchlines. Don't get me wrong! I don't make offensive jokes at the expense of people different than me. I make offensive jokes about myself and those Goddamned fucking babies. Fuck those parasitic monsters. This issue begins with Starman finally reappearing.

It really wasn't exciting enough for an announcement of his return. He's just another half-balding old guy. But it lets me talk about the DC Universe show, Stargirl!

I decided to watch Stargirl because what else am I going to do with my life? Finish reading Gravity's Rainbow? I mean, I am going to do that now that I'm done re-reading those awful Lando Calrissian books. But I can't spend all of time reading Pynchon! Just too much of it! I mean, I'm only 18 pages into Gravity's Rainbow (which is further than I've ever gotten on my previous three attempts!) and I'd estimate I don't understand 5% of the words he's used. And that's me being an English Lit major who has been a voracious reader his entire 48 years (minus the ones where I couldn't read yet. Like ten or something?). I was in bed reading and didn't have a dictionary at hand so I just powered through. But I think I need to go back through and learn all of those words so I can impress the local Starbucks barista! Or are people not impressed when you use a word they have nearly zero chance of knowing and don't know you enough to keep the conversation going by asking you what that means and instead just smile and nod and glance occasionally at the tip jar? Anyway, so I've watched three episodes so far and I'll tell you how I feel about it after I mention how I've actually watched four episodes. The first episode I watched, I was impressed with because Courtney was already palling around with a bunch of legacy JSA members and the Injustice Society was trying to tackle the "Who is Stargirl?" problem and I watched it thinking, "This is really impressive how they decided to start in the middle of the story like this. I like it!" Then I went to watch episode two and I was confused because it didn't seem to follow after the previous episode. So I kept thinking, "Maybe this is a flashback?" And then eighteen minutes into it, I thought, "Maybe I didn't watch the pilot episode. I'd better check." And I started watching the first episode which I totally hadn't seen. So I guess I started with Episode 7 or something. Here are some of my tweet-thoughts on the show for those who don't follow me on Twitter (why don't you follow me on twitter? What is wrong with you? Is it because you don't know I'm @GrunionGuy?): Tweet #1: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then you check to make sure the actress playing a fifteen year old Stargirl is actually 21 and then you breathe a sigh of relief and think, 'I won't be cancelled today! Unless I tweet this experience, probably.'" Tweet #2: "Sometimes you think maybe you're having inappropriate thoughts but then remember it's okay to fuck a car that's been converted into a giant robot with Luke Wilson inside of it." Tweet #3: "3rd episode of Stargirl begins with a dying white woman's final wish to her white husband that he make the world safe for their white son. She dies and he goes out into the enormous hedge maze garden of his mansion to scream into the sky about the injustice of it all. All in all, a pretty good villain origin!" That third tweet was the only one that really makes any sort of socially acceptable commentary on the show. Saying things like "Stargirl's butt doesn't look like my mouth should be inside of it because she's fifteen although the actress is twenty-one so maybe it actually does look like that?" aren't the greatest things to admit even if you're just joking (which I am but just adding this statement makes it sound like I'm not but I totally am (that "totally" doesn't help but I assure you, I'm joking (did the hole just get deeper?))). I mean, sure, her body is super fit because she's a super hero (or will be?). But she has such a baby face! And even at twenty-one, she's just a baby! If I were younger, I'd totally have a crush on her. But I'm 48 and I just don't consider young women proper targets for my sexual deviance anymore. The only interaction I should have with young women these days is warning them against going out to the summer camp at the lake where that boy drowned so many years ago. The girls I had a crush on when I was younger (Christina Applegate (Kelly Bundy), Winona Ryder (Veronica Sawyer), and Stacie Mistysyn (Caitlin Ryan)), I have even more of a crush on now. Judging by the crushes I've had my whole life and not society's stereotype of women, women definitely get better looking as they get older. And probably as I get older. I'm sure that's part of it although I like to think that fifteen year old me would still look at these nearly fifty (or maybe fifty? I'm not so obsessed I know their ages but they're all around my age anyway) year old women and think, "Holy fuck mommy." I'm sorry for that last comment. But I'm only sorry to God not anybody who was reading this. Oh, I forgot to mention that Joel McHale is the original Starman (I mean original in the show although he's Sylvester Pemberton who was never Starman but only Skyman although in the show he was at one point the Star-Spangled Kid and Luke Wilson does mention Ted Knight at some point). And he's funny in his death scene just like he should be because I've obviously decides Sylvester is Jeff Winger's new superhero secret identity alias. Starman heads off with his Cosmic Buttplug to stop Kulak in Gotham City. He doesn't know it yet but the rest of his pals are currently battling Kulak and probably losing. Although Kulak is even older than they are so maybe it's a fair fight. I'm just surprised that a comic book where old men battle other old men has made it ten issues.

I think some editor was fired last issue and the new editor's only job was to make sure it didn't look like Thunderbolt had been speared through the asshole.

Although this editor seemed to think it was okay to have Hawkgirl fucked from behind by Kulak.

I hope this isn't a terrible conservative take on women that exposes how terrible I am at sex but even mind-controlled, I can't imagine licking a woman's shoulder would elicit that response. Although she could be "Ummming" from his pee-hee in her bee-boo.

I know conservative talking points are generally fucking idiotic but Ben Shapiro somehow thinking women can get "too wet" from sexual excitement might be the most hilariously idiotic. I don't think I've been with a woman who was all, "Yes! Yes! Lick my shoulder blade!" and I then I got super into it and then suddenly she was all, "Nope. Too wet. This isn't working for me anymore. I need a doctor, I guess?" Who am I kidding? I know I've never been with a woman who did that because that would mean I've had to have been with a woman! Also, women get wet down there? What's that about? Is it because the vagina cries at the sight of the penis? Kulak takes away all of their super powers but I guess he forgets that Wildcat doesn't have any so I'm hoping Wildcat just punches him in the face soon. Although that Starman bit probably was a hint at how the coming fight might end. You know, with Starman shoving his Cosmic Buttplug into Kulak's third eye, if you know what I'm saying. You probably do because I called it a Cosmic Buttplug. I should try to be more subtle. Kulak's entire purpose is to get revenge on the Justice Society for defeating him way back in 1940. Can't even one super villain just accept defeat and move on with their lives? Or are writers just always going to be so inherently lazy that they'll never give up the crutch of the villain attacking the hero directly out of revenge for that one single time they tried to actually commit a crime and were stopped? The JSA puts up a fight that helps to drain Kulak's power but it isn't until Starman arrives and does that thing I mentioned with his Cosmic Buttplug that Kulak is defeated.

This is the grossest orgasm I've ever seen and my computer is riddled with viruses from all of the previous ones I've watched.

After Kulak's defeat, Jesse Quick wraps up the issue with her super hero dissertation which is less a dissertation and more of a thorough cleaning of all of their asses with her tongue. She's all, "I didn't really do much research or define heroes too good but the Justice Society of America are my heroes so I deserver a degree, right?" Justice Society of America #10 Rating: B. This comic book was as average as they get. I suppose that should garner a C grade but a B grade just seems to say decent but mediocre. By the time I get down to a C grade, I feel like the comic book needs a lot more faults than "I don't really care about stories with heroes who are having strokes during the battles." It's a valid criticism but it's probably too subjective for a critical review. I know, I know! When has that ever stopped me before? Well, I feel charitable today. It probably has something to do with Mars being so close to the full moon earlier this week. My blood is all riled up and wacky!

[wayward-mikaelson]

The Run In

Word Count: 4692

Pairing: Misha x Reader 

Characters: Reader, Misha, Diego (OG Character), Xander (OG Character), Divorce Lawyer, Police Receptionist, George (OG Character), Female Officer, and Male Officer

Summary: The Reader gets away from her abusive husband. After bumping into a stranger, the Reader forms a friendship with him which the Readers soon-to-be ex-Husband finds out about. 

Disclaimer: Language, Angst, Fluff, Mentions of Domestic Violence, Mentions of degradation, Blood, Implied Smut

Disclaimer 2: This work of fiction contains Domestic Violence. If you have been a victim of DV please read at your own discretion. If you are in a DV situation please call 1-800-799-7233, of you’re unable to speak safely, you can log onto thehotline.org or text LOVEIS to 22522. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. If you are in an emergency, call 911. There are also DV/IPV programs and shelters in your area who can help you. 

Disclaimer 3: Any of the shorts that are hot and steamy, I want to put out there that it's in no way disrespectful towards Vicki at all. I love her to death and respect that marriage between her and Misha. So when reading those shorts, know that it all takes place in an alternate world where they aren't married at all.

A/N: Sorry this is late. I have been hitting some sort of writing block. I have the words in my head but for some reason I can’t get them out. 

A/N 2: Tag your anyone who loves Misha! 

*18+ Content. Anyone younger than 18 will need to move along. I do not want to risk my account being deleted. 

**Please DO NOT copy and paste my work anywhere WITHOUT my permission and WITHOUT giving me the proper credit. I work way too hard on my work and don’t want it to get stolen.

***This work is also posted on Instagram, Wattpad, and AO3. Go show it some love over there.

****Please follow me on my other accounts Instagram, Wattpad, Twitter, and AO3

*****DMs are CLOSED for REQUESTS. I gotta finish up my other two projects. 

Forever Tags: @donnaintx​ @myinconnelly1​ @magssteenkamp​ @elansaidaris​ @hobby27​ @440mxs-wife​ 

I sit alone in the apartment, huddled on the couch. The fight had been bad this time. I mean, all fights with Diego were bad but, this one in particular had been pretty bad. I look around the trashed apartment and try not to replay the events that took place almost an hour before. The television was busted, a couple chairs had been thrown over, the mirror my mother had salvaged and repurposed for me was destroyed, glass was everywhere, and my grandmothers clock she passed down to me was busted up.

I don't know how I got here.

I don't know how I let it get so bad.

I slowly get up off the couch and watch my step all the way to the bathroom. I flip the light on and there, glowing bright red, on my face is the handprint of my husband. The throwing of things has been going on for a couple years. Hitting is new and Diego never hit me until recently. I should have left him months ago. Maybe even years ago.

After that first hit.

It was after a Christmas party at his office. We got into a fight about me talking to his co workers and about the dress I wore. He said he had been embarrassed by it all. I'm the stand you ground type of woman who snaps back. The moment I had snapped back, was the moment Diego hit me. Diego has been surprised so he left for the evening. I should have just packed and left. I didn't, I waited an apology that never really came and when it did, I knew he didn't mean it.

Tonight, it was about the fact I went out with a few friends and forgot about dinner for Diego. When I came home with take out, he lost it. Called me every name in the book. Threw things and hit me and left.

I slowly touch the already welting mark. I suck in a sharp breath when my cool hand touches the raw skin. It stings so bad that even my tears make it sting. I look at myself again in the mirror. "How pathetic," I whisper to myself. "How pathetic of you to have stayed this long over a boy that can't handle his anger. That's going to change."

I walk out of the bathroom to the room Diego and I share together. I head straight towards the closet and pull out a duffle back and begin to fill with the important things. Clothes. Some shoes. Bathroom and shower necessities. I swap out purses, leaving both my car keys and phone in my old one. I can't risk having Diego try looking for me. I log into my bank account and change every security question and answer. I close my eyes. I never thought I would need to do this yet here I am.

I look around the apartment one last time. My eyes land on the photo from our wedding day. I grab it and rip the picture from the frame. I take a lighter and set it ablaze in the kitchen sink with a few other photos. Taking a deep breath, I finally make my exist from the apartment.

I walk to the nearest bus stop and wait for the bus to show up. Even in the dark it's difficult to hide my swollen face from the world. So I keep it down and tucked behind the collar of my coat. When the bus finally shows up, I get on it and pay my fair. I go sit in the back and ride it all the way to where I need to get off. The ride is quiet. A few people stare at me when they catch sight of my face. I turn away from them and keep my face hidden away. I stare at my bags and think, this is all I have now. A few clothes, money, these bags, a few personal items, etc.

The bus stops and I quickly grab my bags and get off. I turn this way and that looking for the building I need to go into. I spot it, It's hidden behind some trees and another bus stop across the street. I make my way across the street and into the police station.

There is a lady sitting at the front desk. It looks like she's packing up to go home. She gives me a friendly smile and sets her bag aside.

"What can I do for you?" She asks. I see her zero in on the mark on my face and the look in her eyes looks like she's about to cry. "I think I know what papers you need." She turns and leaves the area and returns with a few papers in her hands. She slowly hands me the papers and a pen. "Do you need a safe place to fill these out? Theres a room I can take you to."

I nod, I want to cover as much of my trail and steps as I can. Diego is a smart man. He will soon learn I left him and will soon come looking for me. The lady walks me to a room with a table. She tells me that she won't close the door because some people in my situation get triggered. She walks to the officer that is sitting at a desk across the way and tells him something while pointing to me. The officer looks at me and then nods to the woman.

I look down at the Order of Protection and Restraining Order papers and take a deep breath. When I start to fill the paper out, I notice that I am still wearing my wedding ring and band. I take them off and set them in my bag. As I finish my paper work, I slowly get up and walk out of the room. The officer sees me and slowly approaches me.

"I can take care of this for you," He says reaching for the paper. "Now how about we get some ice for that mark and have a look to make sure it isn't more than raw skin." The officer sits me down and leaves. When he comes back he has a small ice pack and places it on my face. The cool pack feels so nice.

"I have a question," I say as the officer pulls out a first aid box and starts to look at my face.

"Yeah?" he responds.

"Is there a way to put in your system that I am not a missing person but on the run from my husband?" I flinch when the officer wipes my face with the alcohol wipe.

"Sorry," He starts to apply an antibiotic to my face. "If or when your husband comes to us looking for you, our system will actually show that these orders are on him. What will happen is that they will take your information and tell him he has two days until you are declared missing. In that time frame he would have been served with the restraining order." The officer puts a large band aid over my face.

"Good," I say.

"How long?" the officer asks.

"Long enough to finally say fuck it and leave his ass."

***

A few days pass. I'm staying at a hotel and paying by the day. I purchased a brand new phone and got a new number. I called my parents and told them what was going on. They were mad and sadden by the situation but are happy that I got out when could. I got word from my officer friend that the restraining order was delivered but he said that Diego didn't look happy.

A week passes and I am still staying at the hotel. Not many apartments won't rent to me until I'm legally separated from Diego. I meet with a lawyer to have divorce papers drawn up and served to him but according to her, once the papers were signed, it would take a few months for them to be filed.

"Now all we need to do is get you two in here to sing these?" the lady says.

"About that," I fold my hands. "I have a protection order and restraining order on him."

The lawyer nodded her head. "I see. Well, I will have someone deliver to him and see if he will sign them. Just be prepared," She reaches for my hand and takes it in hers. "Some men like him, they will stall this as much as they can to get you to meet in person."

I nod. "I understand, in that case, if I have to meet him, I will have someone I trust with me."

As predicted, a week later, the lawyer calls me ups and tells me that Diego refuses to sign. Says I'm having a mental breakdown and needs to just come home so we can work it out. The lawyer also mentions that Diego had said that I'm lying about him throwing things that it's all me and that he only hit me in self defense because according to him, I slapped him before he slapped me.

I sit back in my hotel room in hot anger. I can feel the steam of my anger coming off my skin. I'm angry he won't sign the papers. I'm angry he started to make up shit about me. But jokes on him, I kept a private album on my iCloud of all the times he hit me. It my friends idea, she encouraged me to document it all somewhere where he doesn't know the password to. She passed away about a year ago from getting hit by a drunk driver.

"I'm going to need a printer," I say looking at the countless pictures of abuse.

***

The next day I go out and purchase a decently priced printer. And a decent laptop since everything was on my phone. As i'm walking down the street back to my hotel, with my things, I find myself falling onto hands and knees. The printer box rolled a few feet from me. I hope it isn't damaged, I think slowly sitting back on my knees and just staring at it.

"Oh my goodness," a voice says. "I am so sorry."

I look up to see a man with a ragged hair, black sunglasses, a black t-shirt with a jean jacket over it, and dark skinny jeans reaching down to help me up to my feet. I take his hand and slowly get to my feet. I notice the scruff framing the rest of his face. The sun shines perfectly behind him and I can't help but feel drawn to him.

"I should have watched where I was going and make sure there wasn't a beautiful woman carrying a large object," the man says turning to pick up my printer. "Doesn't look damaged from the outside."

I smile and feel my face burning. I'm sure it's bright red. "It's okay, I should have called an Uber instead of walking three blocks. I'm sorry about your coffee." I gesture to the fallen cup and spilled contents on the sidewalk. "Let me buy a new one."

The man laughs and waves a free hand. "No need to waste your money on my accident."

"What can I do?" I ask after I made sure my laptop box was fine.

"How about you let me help you with this so another person doesn't run into you?"

Taking a deep breath, I accept the strangers offer.  We walk the last block talking about the city. When we get to the hotel, this man offers to carry the printer all the way up to the room. Didn't even question if I was living there.

"Thank you for doing this," I tell him as he sets the box on the small table.

"Anything," he smiles. "And when you are ready to search for apartments I know of a few good ones."

I give a small smile. I guess it's obvious that I was living in the hotel. "Thanks," I watch as he walks himself to the door. "I did never get your name." I call after him.

"Misha," he smiles. "Collins."

***

A month goes by and I am no longer looking like a crazy person after submitting all my pictures to my lawyer. Still Diego refuses to sign the papers unless he can meet with me alone. Of course I say "fuck no."

"If you want to be rid of him forever, then you have to compromise," my lawyer tells me.So I makes plans for the inevitable. But I have my officer buddy tagging along with me to the meeting.

I stare at the divorce papers and I am praying Diego will sign them at our meeting. But I doubt it. Ever since I left him, I started to see the red flags. Even friends that I still have and that haven't been manipulated by Diego, have told me they saw the way he treated me and spoke to me.

I need fresh air.

I get out of the hotel and walk to the the nearest park. It has a lake right in the middle of it. I rest my arms on the railing and then drop my head on my arms. This is more stressful than when I planned a wedding with Diego. I'm closing a door on almost seven years of marriage.

Diego was never like this. Even when we dated for five years. He was always so sweet, so kind, understanding, etc. He would buy me flowers for no reason. My apartment would be covered in them and I would tell him that I would donate some to nursing homes just to make room. I don't know what snapped in Diego to make him the way he was now.

Sighing I look up and stare at the lake. There is a small flock of ducks swimming passed me. Their color feathers shine in the afternoon. It puts a smile on my face. Something that is hard for me to do lately with everything going on.

"I was wondering when that smile would come," a familiar voice makes me turn to my left. There, a few feet away from me, Misha stands. I haven't seen or spoken to him since he left my hotel after giving me his number.

A number I never called or texted.

I had too google him to see if I could find anything on him. Well, I found a crap ton on him. An actor who did a crap ton of good. He is loved by millions.

"How long have you been standing there?" I ask. Another smile creeping onto my face.

"Not long," he says walking closer to me. "Just long enough to see that frown turn upside down." He gives a small smile. "Are you still at that hotel?"

I chuckle. "I am, I haven't had the time to look at apartments. I've been preoccupied trying to get my soon to be ex-husband to sign divorce papers."

Misha leans up on the railing along side me and looks at the ducks. "Maybe he's holding out to want to try and work things out with you?"

I laugh. "No, he's abusive and isn't having it with me being in control of myself now. The night I left him, it was really bad. It took a while for the mark he left on me to go away. Then he tried to convince my lawyer that I was having a mental breakdown."

"I'm sorry," Misha pulls back from the railing and pulls out his wallet and shows me a penny. "Here's to him signing the papers so you can officially be free of him." He tosses the penny into the water. "Are you doing anything, tomorrow?" He asks.

"Besides meeting Diego to get him to sign papers? No." I answer twiddling my thumbs.

"How about after you meet with him, I take you to look at apartments?" He leans towards me with a smile. "I can get you a really good deal. I'll even drive, so we don't have to walk."

"Sure."

***

"He's late," Xander says stirring his now cold coffee. Xander is the officer that helped me the night after  I left Diego. Xander was also the one who helped set me up at the hotel I'm staying at. Xander's wife, was a domestic violence victim and he was the officer that pulled his ex husband off her. They didn't get hook up until a year later when they ran into each other. They have been married for almost ten years with two kids.

"Just give it a few minutes," I say contemplating buying another coffee eying the divorce papers on the table.

Five minutes later, Diego waltz into the Starbucks and spots us. A smile spreads across his face when he sees me. Then it instantly fades when he sees Xander. He crosses the little shop in a few short strides. His black shoes squeaking from the rain outside.

"So," he sits down and crosses his arms. "Is this who you left me for? Some wanna a be body builder."

Xander smirks. "No, I'm actually a police officer. Since YN here has a few orders drawn up on you it's best that she have the right protection. Even in a public place." I notice that as Xander leans over he has his badge in his hands.

Diego looks over to me. "Can' you stop being so dramatic about this? So that we can just do this alone"

"Not ever going to happen," I say firmly. "And I'm not dramatic. Not about you hitting me."

The look in Diego's eye's grows dark but he puts on a fake smile. "I would never hurt you," He looks around as a few people over heard what I said. "I can't believe you're still on that."

"Look," Xander leans back and pushes the papers towards Diego. "All YN needs you to do is sign these. This game you're trying to play, just keeps hurting her."

Diego stares at Xander. "I don't think I will." He pushes the papers back and starts to get up. "Until next time."

"You're just going string this along aren't you?" I stood up so fast that Xander's coffee spilled. "I don't want to be married to you anymore. I stopped wanting that when you threw the first book and kicked a hole in the wall. I stopped when you hit me. I just let it go on for so long that I forgot how to not walk on eggshells. You don't own me. I don't love you. So sign the fucking papers."

Diego stares at me. I hadn't realized, but I pretty much yelled. I gather my bag and make my way out. Xander follows me.

"Hey," He hands me the papers. "Do you need me tot drive you back?"

"No, a friend is picking me up," I pull my phone out and text Misha. "He should be meeting me in a few minutes. He's taking me to look at apartments."

***

Another month goes by and I'm moved into my new apartment. All thanks to Misha and his ways of persuasion. I got the first six months half off. It was a nice little one bedroom apartment with a little den. Misha even convinced me to let him buy the furniture sets I had my eye one in a catalog.

"I'm just use to working hard for stuff like this," I say when the last of the movers move the stuff in. "I literally don't know how to thank you. Even just saying 'thank you' doesn't seem to be enough."

Misha laughs. The laugh takes up his entire body. "Just a simple thank you would be enough. Unless you want me to come up with a way to convince you to let me take you out to dinner. As friends of course."

I feel my cheeks start to burn. This dude is smooth. "Okay, dinner, as friends, it is."

Misha smiles big. "Awesome, now lets get this place looking as good as you."

For the next two days, Misha is over helping me settle down in my apartment. Whenever he leaves for food or whatnot, he always comes back with something to add to the place. I didn't even argue once.

The time I spent with Misha, he always hyped me up for stuff, he said things how it was and never ever sugar coated things, he held doors open, and gave me words of encouragement whenever I told him that Diego, again, refused to sign papers over.

Diego not signing papers was frustrating. The more time I spent with or talking to Misha, the more my feelings for him grew. But I was still tied to the asshole of a man who knew what he was doing. He knew of my interactions with Misha, he always brought it up but I would shut it down.

"He's just using you for public gain," Diego would tell me. But I knew Misha pretty well at this point. Things I've read on Twitter about him, Misha would never use someone like that.

Each meeting I had with Diego, I started to see him for who he really was. I don't even know how I fell in love with him. He's even gotten his parents convinced that I'm a lunatic. His mom would text me calling me all sorts of names and telling me that I should be the one paying for Diegos therapy sessions. She would also tell me that she knew I was trouble when he brought me home to meet them. His father wanted me to pay back every dime he had spent on mine and Diegos wedding or he would get a lawyer involved. He would even send disturbing texts saying that he's got people watching me and that I should be be careful.

I won't lie, that scared the shit out of me.

That last one pissed Misha off. I have never seen him go off about someone before. After that text, I went out and put restraining orders on Diegos parents and Misha convinced me to have someone look after me while he was gone for his show. I agreed and my new 'bodyguard' went with me everywhere and made sure I got home safe. Misha even hired a security company to set up an alarm system at my apartment.

If I didn't know better, Misha was or has developed some kind of feelings for me.

***

A year after I made my escape from Diego, I finally have my own car. Paid for all on my own. So no more walking. I park my car in my apartment parking spot and pull out my phone. I see the text from Misha, it's from an hour ago. His flight is delayed and that he would see me at some point tomorrow.

"Bummer," I lay back and watch as George, the bodyguard, pull his car into the parking spot behind me. I unbuckle and get out and watch as George do the same. Before I could get a word out, I see two police cars come up and two officers run passed me.

I slowly turn around and watch them run up to my level. My heart beats fast and I follow them. George, of course follows as well. I skip the steps two at a time and watch as one officer kicks my down. I hear yelling and banging around. Suddenly, George has both his hand on my shoulder and pulling me back as an officer finally come out.

With Diego in handcuffs. His nose is bleeding and a bruise is already forming on his face.

I pull away from George and run into my apartment. There standing in the middle of the room was the other officer talking to Misha. Misha has a busted lip and small gash on the side of his head. I notice that the glass bowl that Misha got me was in pieces and the coffee table was destroyed.

Misha sees me and I rush over to him. "Oh my gosh," I take hold of his face. "Are you okay?"

"Are you the lady who lives here?" the officer asks.

"Yes, and this is my friend," I don't my eyes off Misha.

"And the gentleman we arrested?"

"That's no gentleman," my voice is hard. "That is my abusive soon-to-be ex-husband. He has a restraining order on him."

The officer puts her note pad away. "That will explain a lot. We will contact you if we need anything else." With that, the officer left.

"Everything is all good?" Georges voice makes me turn around.

"Everything is good, George," Misha says. "You can go."

After George leaves I turn back to Misha. "You said you're flight had been delayed. What happened?"

Misha leads us to the couch and we sit down. "I only said that so I can surprise you. I hadn't been here for even an hour before he broke in. He wanted to know where you were and I wouldn't tell him. I guess a neighbor called 911 due to the yelling and stuff. Officer saw my stuff and I said my friend lives here and is letting me stay with her."

I nod my head. "I'm just happy you're okay. I don't know how Diego found me."

"It doesn't matter," Misha takes my hand. "He will answer for it in court.

And Misha was right. A week after everything went down, Diego was charged with breaking and entering, assault, and basically breaking the restraining order by stalking. I sat in during the hearing with Misha. Diego's parents tried to fight the five year sentence but the Judge said that if they said anything else before court ended he would double it without parole.

A few weeks after that, I am getting dinner ready when Misha shows up. He had been showing up a lot lately. I don't mind it at all, Misha makes me feel sane and safe.

"Hey," Misha says setting his coat on the couch. "I see that new coffee table came."

"It did, thanks to you," I say pulling a second plate down. I've learned to make a bit extra whenever Misha came over. "Also, I have some good news." I point to the orange envelope on the table. Misha looks at it and then back at me.

"Did," he starts to say.

"He sign it?" I finish his question. "Yeah, he called saying he will sign it. So I dropped by and had them take the paper to him to sign. I wasn't going to see him. They brought it back all signed. I am mailing in the morning."

"That's amazing, YN," Misha comes up to me and hugs me.

"Well, let's celebrate with dinner."

After dinner, after we clean up, we are sitting on the couch. Talking about whatever came to mind. We are talking about things we are still embarrassed by when Misha takes my hand.

"YN," He says softly. "I want to tell you something."

"Sure," I put my free hand on over his.

"I...I really care about you and I am glad that it was me here and not you when Diego broke in," Mishas voice is soft still. "I honestly don't know what I would do if you were here and he hurt you. All I ever wanted was for you to be safe."

"And I am," I slowly rub his hand with my thumb.

We stare at each other for what feels like forever when Misha pulls his hands from mine and put them on my face. His eyes look search mine for permission but I lean closer to him and brush my lips over his. He closes his eyes and I feel the shiver run through his body.

His gentle grip on my face forces my face back to his where his lips wait. They're smooth and there's a lot of passion behind his kiss. My hands run up to his collar as I move closer to him. The kiss deeps and Mishas hands trail down my sides to my hips where he pulls me onto his lap. It makes it easier for my tongue to push pass his lips and into his mouth.

Without breaking the kiss and with a low growl, Misha stands up, both arms supporting me as he walks us to the bedroom. Kicking the door shut.

[gotbts7fics]

Positive | Six |

| Five | July 2018 (2) | Seven |

The show started with a bang, everything was amazing, just like always. Jaidyn couldn’t contain herself, standing on the seat so she could see better. She danced and sang her little heart out. Enjoy every minute of the show. You took so many pictures and videos of the man your heart yearned for. Making sure you turned your face slightly whenever he would look towards your section, which you felt was far to often for personal comfort.

As the show ended and the arena began to clear, you remained seated for a minute, to fully process your feelings. On the inside you were emotionally broken, JB was so close, yet so far. You were sure, had you found a staff member that you recognized, you would be able to get back stage. Yet, you didn’t bother to look. You wanted nothing more than have JB forget you, to live happily, be that with someone else or not, you just wanted him happy. There was no way he would ever forgive you for you leaving, and if he did, he would never forgive you for hiding a child, his child, from him. You had sealed your fate with him when you jumped on that plane and left a year ago.

“Miss, you need to leave” A security guard said behind you.

“Oh, sorry, we’re leaving” You said facing the security guard before grabbing Jaidyn’s hand and walking towards the exit. You didn’t notice the securtity guard reaching for his radio and murmur something to the person on the other side.

It was already past eleven as you exited the arena. Instead of going straight to the hotel like you should have, the two of you deciding to find a McDonald’s for some nuggets seemed like a logical thing.

[23:41] Owen: You’re fucking nuts for walking around this late with her. Please come back… now…

[23:41] You: Oh shut up. We’re like 4 blocks away. I will call you if the boogie man shows up.

[23:42] Owen: Urgh why do you enjoy worrying me. Please come back.

[23:42] You: Okay.. okay… We will be there soon, keep your pants on.

Jaidyn and you walked around, not finding a McDonald's and settling on a sausage vendor. Walking back to the hotel you couldn’t help but feel like you were being followed. Chalking it up to Owen putting the notion in your head that it was dangerous, you hurried to the hotel, easing your nerves as you walked into the lobby and headed towards the elevators.

JB was sitting with some of the other members backstage still. They normally waited an hour after the performance to pack up and shower before returning to their hotel. He was feeling exhausted from giving it his all tonight. Once or twice he could have sworn he saw you, but with so many fans and lights he wasn’t sure. He just kept looking in the general direction he thought you were in.

“Hyung, did you see her?” BamBam asked.

“No, well I’m not sure. I think maybe?” JB said, looking towards the younger man.

“Guys, look at this…. omg!” Mark yelled from across the room. JB and BamBam rushed to where he was sitting, looking at his twitter page. Right there, on Mark’s sister’s twitter was a tweet from you, a picture of Jaidyn in her GOT7 shirt with a message that read “All ready for the GOT7 Concert”.

“She really came!!!” BamBam screamed with a smile ear to ear.

“Wait, I have a notification from her…. she tweeted me!” Bambam said as he looked at his phone. It was a picture of Jaidyn again, in a BamBam sweater. You had rarely used twitter before, but tonight you had sent out a few tweets. BamBam noticed that he was getting multiple notifications from the picture.

“People are trying to get me to notice the picture… We noticed fam…” He said smiling. JB was looking at the picture of his phone when he heard his own go off. Grabbing it from his pocket and turning it on he clicked the message from his manager.

[23:45] ManagerHyungnim: Marriott Hotel, literally beside the arena.

JB took a sharp inhale, causing Mark to look at him.

“What is it?” Mark asked, concern etched on his face.

“They found her hotel” JB replied, still staring at his phone.

“Are you going to go?” BamBam asked softly.

“I don’t know… What should I do?” JB looked up, his heart was telling him to go, run out right now and go. However, he did have logic, and logic said it was almost midnight.

“Go, you’ll regret it if you don't” Mark said. JB looked at him, his heart beating a mile a minute, then nodded and took off. Google told him the hotel in question was a five minute walk from the venue. He figured if he ran, he could make it there in two. So he ran as fast as he physically could, gasping for air as he entered the lobby and approached the front desk.

“Hello sir, how may I help you this evening” The lady asked.

“My girlfriend is staying here, Y/N Y/L/N, which room is she again?” He asked, hoping they didn’t find him odd and ended up escorting him off the premises. The lady did a quick search on her computer.

“Room 516, elevators are to your left” JB nodded a thanks and quickly walked in the direction she pointed, getting into the elevator and pushing your floor. He felt like his heart was going to explode out of his chest at any given moment. Stepping out onto the fifth floor and turning towards the direction of your room, JB walked cautiously, scared that this may all be a dream and he wasn’t about to see you for the first time in over a year. When your hotel room appeared in front of him his heart skipped a beat. You and Jaidyn were situated on the other side of this heavy wood door. He continued to stare for what seemed like forever at the numbers. Willing his hand to knock, but something kept stopping him. What if you had moved on, what if you didn’t remember him, no wait that’s stupid you don’t forget a three year relationship. His mind was going a mile a minute. That’s when he heard it, Jaidyn’s giggles and a mans voice. A man was in your hotel room with his daughter. Logic told him you were a grown woman, you could do what you want. Emotions told him to lose his temper, so he banged on that door so loud until someone opened it.

Jaidyn was reenacting all the things she had seen at the concert, laughing and having a great time telling Owen.

“Wow, Jai, you had a lot of fun didn’t you. Did you see your Appa, I bet he misses you so much” Owen smiled at her.

“I saw him… but I didn’t get to talk to him” She replied looking down, a little sadness forming on her face.

BANG BANG BANG

“What the fuck…”Owen said looking at Ayla sleeping in her playpen then at the door. You stood up and began moving towards the door.

“Stop” Owen said as he moved around you and headed towards the door. After looking through the peep hole he opened the door wide.

“Who the fuck are you” JB seethed out, looking at the man who had opened the door.

“Nice to meet you to” Owen drawled out, eyeing the man up and down. He wasn’t sure how JB had found you, but here he was.

“I asked who you are?!” JB growled.

“Listen, before you jump to conclusions, no, I’m not sleeping with her. Secondly, how did you even find her here”

“Owen who is it?” You asked from inside the room, shuffling nervously.

“Well….” He answered, hearing you starting to move towards the door. Owen held his breath for the minute as you recognized the man standing before him.

Coming up beside Owen you looked towards the person in front of him. Your face paled, your breath hitched and in that moment you hoped that the ground would swallow you up. Standing in the door was the one man you longed to hold but hoped to never see again.

“JB” It came out as a whisper, barely audible, but JB heard it loud and clear. The way his name tumbled off your lips made his heart soar. It took everything for him to not rush in and embrace you.

“Appa?” Jaidyn had come to look at the door too.

“Appa!!!!!!” she yelled, running full speed towards him. JB crouched down with arms wide open for her to fly into them. The moment her little arms wrapped around his neck he squeezed her tight, he allowed tears to fall from his eyes.

“Hi baby, Appa has missed you. I’ve missed you so much my beautiful baby.” He murmured into her hair. He stood up with her still in his arms, her little head tucked into the crook of his neck. At this moment, everything in the world was right for JB. He had his little girl in his arms after a year. She was taller and heavier, but still his little girl. He was so wrapped up in the moment that he barely registered your face draining of any colour it had left as a baby cried within the room.

“Mommy, Ayla is crying” There, it was addressed. JB looked towards you, confusion and pain written on his face.

“Ayla?” He asked.

The crying became louder, wailing at this point. Owen looked towards you, then back to JB.

“I’ll go” He squeezing your arm before turning and walking into the room.

“You had a baby?” He asked, pain taking over his joy he felt moments ago, staring at the back of the man who just touched you in front of him.

“Yes” You weren’t going to deny the fact, that the beautiful baby existed.

“You’re with the father? Is it Him?” His words were laced with venom, jealousy was taking over slowly, you were supposed to have his baby. You were supposed to marry him.

“She is my daughter. My personal life is not up for discussion. Why are you here? How did you find me?” You asked hardening your feelings. JB put Jaidyn down, knowing what was about to happen. The air was so thick with tension.

“Baby, go inside. Maman and Appa need to talk for a minute.” He kissed her forehead before she ran off into the room. You stepped into the hall and closed the door behind you.

“Does it matter, I’m here now. I want answers” He shifted on his feet glaring at the closed door behind you.

“I don’t have answers.” You glared back at him.

“Why did you leave me?” He looked right into your eyes.

Silence. This only irritated JB more, he was losing control of his emotions.

“Who’s baby is that? How could you have a baby so quickly after you left me?! Did I mean nothing to you?!” He was trying to be quiet, but anger was getting the best of him. He stepped forward to be inches away from your face.

“It’s none of your business.” You calmly stated as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Why are you shutting me out? Why can’t you answer anything?!” He said, throwing his hand in his hair and gripping it tightly, pacing back and forth.

“I told you I couldn’t do it anymore. I’m sorry.” Averting your eyes, praying he wouldn’t see through you. Your heart breaking and wanting nothing more than to be honest with him.

“Y/N please. Please…..” He was begging. He reached out and grabbed your arms, hoping that the contact would help you remember the love you had for him.

“JB, it’s not up for discussion. Go back to your hotel” Stepping out of his touch. His temper flared at that, you were being cold and rude, and he was not in the right mind set to take it.

“Fine, but I want to take Jaidyn for the night.” He seethed, all previous compassion leaving him.

“Do you think that’s wise. Really?” JB’s anger finally boiled over at your question. “Listen, you took my child. No fucking explanation. You fucking owe me this. I have missed my daughter for a whole year because you’re a selfish fucking bitch. You clearly have no regard for me. Since you hopped onto whoever’s dick you met the moment you came back and got knocked up! So fucking let me have my kid for one night. Seeing as I will probably never see her again since you have no fucking decency to let me be a dad” He glared down at you.

“Fine, what time do you want me to pick her up tomorrow” You glared back at him, accepting his accusation. You knew he loved Jaidyn, you knew he could take care of her. There was no reason to deny him her.

“I have to be at the airport by twelve” He stated.

“Which hotel are you staying at” You gave up the staring contest and looked away, opening the door you found Jaidyn still awake watching tv, while Owen was holding a sleeping Ayla on his chest. JB followed you into the room.

“Baby, want to come sleep over at Appa’s hotel” He asked, glancing towards the sleeping baby.

“YES!!!!!!” She jumped up, grabbing her bag and rushing to him.

“It’s almost one am, you’re letting her go this late?”Owen spoke up, looking at you.

“Listen, I don’t know what relationship you have with Y/N but that is my kid and to hell if you think you have a say in this” JB growled out.

“Look man, calm down.” Owen started shifting, placing the baby on the bed and ready to get up. JB started advancing forward towards him.

“Hey, look.” You stepped in between the men putting your hands on JB’s chest.

“Jaidyn is ready to go. We will pick her up from you tomorrow” You said looking up at him.

“Appa, I’m ready!” Jaidyn grabbed his hand. JB gripped it tight while turning towards the door.

JB arrived back to his own hotel with the little girl sleeping soundly on his shoulder. Within two minutes of picking her up after she complained of being tired, she had fallen asleep. He still never got tired of carrying her. After walking into his hotel room he gently placed her on the bed and heading to the bathroom to wash his face and brush his teeth. Midway through brushing there was a knock at the door. Hesitantly he went to open it.

“HYUNG YOU’RE BACK!” Jackson yelled as the other members stood outside his door.

“Shhhhhhh!” JB let out harshly. “Jaidyn is sleeping”

“WHAT!? She is here?! OMG  Let me in” Bambam squealed.

“No guys. I just want to go to sleep right now, and she needs to sleep. We will get together for breakfast okay?” JB looked at his members.

“Sure, see you in the morning” Mark said with a smile as he ushered the other members away. JB returned it and shut the door. Finishing his teeth he went and crawled beside his little girl, tucking her into the covers. He couldn’t believe how beautiful she was, how much she had grown. She looked like you, had your eye shape, nose and pouty mouth. He had missed so much and now it was inevitable he may never have the time with her that he truly wanted. Sighing he closed his eyes and fell asleep, exhaustion taking over.

“Come on, lets talk about last night Y/N” Owen was prying. The two of you were sitting at a table in the hotel’s restaurant having breakfast, Ayla happily eating little bits of scrambled eggs.

“I’m fine” Taking a bite of toast and avoiding his eyes.

“You’re not fine”

“Am so.”

“Stop lying to me! Jesus, it’s okay to not be fine. It’s okay to be upset.” He was getting frustrated with you.

“Can you pick Jaidyn up? I don’t want to see him again” You mumbled out, looking towards the baby that was babbling beside you.

“Yes, but you need to promise to talk to me later” You looked down towards your breakfast, losing your appetite. It hurt, everything hurt right now.

“Sure. I’m going to take Ayla upstairs to the room. I will see you later” You grabbed your baby and went back to the room, hoping to nap away this nightmare.

“Appa!!! Appa!!!” Jaidyn bounced around on the bed, waking JB up. JB smiled, he missed the way she used to wake him up.

“Good morning baby, why are you up so early? You had a late night” JB smiled, with one eye barely opened.

“Are the oppas here? Can I see BamBam oppa?” She beamed landing on her knees beside him.

“Ahhhhhh, really. You still like BamBam more than Appa?” Sighing as he pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to the group chat anticipating his members to come running as soon as they read it.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes!”

“What would you like?”

“Can we have pancakes?” She asked with the biggest doe eyes she could muster up.

“Of course baby” JB chuckled, he was wrapped around her pretty little finger and would do absolutely anything to make his girl happy.

JB’s room had turned into a chaotic and loud hang out once the members had woke up. Each one rushing towards his place to see Jaidyn. Now there was laughter, and music in his room, everyone being extremely happy. In the midst of the chaos someone started banging on the door. Jackson being the closest went to answer it.

“Hello, who are you?” He asked the taller man standing in front of the open door.

“I’m here to pick up Jaidyn, but first I need to speak to Jaebum” Owen said.

“Uncle Owie!” Jaidyn ran into his arms when she saw him.

“Hi baby” He said kissing her forehead. Every other man in the room grew stiff and approached the door, all seemingly wondering who this man was and why was he so close with their Jaidyn.

“Why are you here so early?” JB gritted his teeth upon seeing Owen.

“Look, I want to talk to you….. alone” Owen shifted his gaze to Jaidyn’s head before looking back at JB.

“Fine, you guys watch Jaidyn. I’ll be back shortly” He huffed, exiting the hotel room and following Owen. He wanted answers, and this man was going to give them to him.

“So should we follow them?” Youngjae asked.

“Absolutely…. not.” Jinyoung sighed.

“We will hear about it after. Let him talk it out, lets enjoy our time with Jaidyn” Mark said, returning to the giggling girl who was jumping on the bed.

JB led Owen to a table at Starbucks in his hotel lobby.

“So what do you want?” JB was trying to control his anger.

“Look, I don’t know why you feel the need to get defensive. I am here out of good will” Owen sighed.

“Sure, you seem mighty cozy with my girl–, my ex-girlfriend. Playing fucking dad to my child, sleeping in her hotel room” JB growled out, anger bubbling ever so slightly.

“Okay, you know what. Go fuck yourself. One, I’ve known Y/N a lot longer than you ever have, and secondly I am like her older brother. I love her and her two girls like they’re my own.” JB scoffed, tongue in cheek, simmering in anger.

“However, I know who has raised Jaidyn the past several years. I know you are who she calls Dad, and I think its amazing that you can love her just as much, if not more than me” Owen continued.

“Good, because she is my little girl, and nobody will take her from me again” JB glared towards the man in front of him.

“I don’t think you deserve her though” Owen let out, turning away from the man you were in love with.

“Excuse me” JB scoffed with clenched his fists under the table.

“I don’t think you deserve her” Owen stated again, shrugging his shoulders and looking out the window.

“Who are you to make that decision, I loved Y/N so much, I did everything for her. She left me. She gave up and left me after three fucking years. With nothing more than a text. So how can you say to me I don’t deserve her” JB seethed out through clenched teeth.

“Exactly. Three years. She stood by you for three fucking years, sacrificed everything and anything normal because she loves you. And all of a sudden one day she just fucking leaves? Are you fucking dumb? Why would she leave you, the love of her damn life…. three years just like that?” Owen was getting angry now, clearly the man in front of him wasn’t as smart as you let on he was.

“I don’t know, why don’t you ask her” JB growled.

“Wow, you’re fucking ridiculous.”

“Listen, you’re wasting time I could have with my kid. Leave, come back later” JB stood up from the table, ready to return upstairs.

“Ayla is yours.” Owen said looking into the mans eyes. JB paled instantly, sinking back down into his chair.

“What?”

“The baby, she’s yours. Y/N didn’t want to wreck your career. She didn’t want to cause a scandal and ruin your life. She didn’t mean to get pregnant, but she couldn’t bring herself to get rid of the pregnancy. So she did what she felt was the best for both of you. Ayla is yours.” Owen returned to looking out the window.

“Wha–…” JB lowered his head into his hands, trying to process this information. Before you had left, had you changed? How could he not notice. Granted he had been out of country and very busy when he was back in Seoul. You were moody, sure. Had you looked different? Not really, but you always wore sweaters. Even during sex though you had looked the same.

“It’s not. She didn’t look or seem different.” He mumbled into his hands

“Well she is. And Y/N is going to kill me, but I don’t care. You deserve to know. You deserve to be a father to both of your daughters. And I hope, for the sake of Jaidyn’s heart, you continue to love her just as much as you will love your biological child.” Owen’s rough accusation of not loving his daughter didn’t go unnoticed by JB.

“How dare you, how dare you fucking think that my daughter would mean anything less to me because you’re claiming I have a biological child.” JB snapped his head towards Owen. Anger flashing in his eyes.

“Look man, those girls are my life. Obviously I am going to protect them” Owen shrugged.

“What the hell kind of man has she said I am for you to speak so lowly of me” JB had finally had enough. It was bad enough that this dude just walked in and delivered a bomb shell, but to also accuse him of not loving his kid, not cool.

“She hasn't” Owen said looking him in the eye again.

“What?”

“She has never once spoke bad about you, ever. She has cried herself to sleep many nights scared that if anyone found out she had your baby she would wreck your career, and your members. She has put her everything into being a single mom, never once being angry at you for not showing up. She has only spoke high praises of you, even going as far as taking all the blame when Jaidyn was upset for coming back to Canada. She hasn’t dated anyone, yeah, I know you’re dying to know that too. She has only talked about how she loves you, and you deserve better than her. So, before you get all pissed off at her. Think of it from her perspective. Think about what she fucking sacrificed for you. She still loves you, you know.” Owen was growing angry at this point too, but he knew that he could only do so much for you. This was all for you. To help you gain the happiness you deserve, whether the man in front of him stepped up or not, this needed to be done for you.

“Here” Owen threw a piece of paper on the table.

“What is it?” JB asked, eyeing the paper suspiciously.

“Your chance to start over”

[AUTHOR’S NOTE: I hope this has cleared up some misunderstandings about Owen. He really is an amazing dude]

[spidxysense]

Back to You | 1

Summary: He broke your heart, but you’d always love him. Two souls that not even the universe could tear apart, even if you wanted it to at times.

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

A/N: I told you guys I'd update to the best of my abilities!!! Hope you guys enjoy, just a bit of a filler, next chapter will be pretty intense so watch out for that. As always I hope you enjoy. I'll clean up the whole post tomorrow if there's a laptop or computer nearby since I'm just updating via cellphone.

Word count: not quite sure.

Prologue | 1 | 2

3 months later

“I’m home!” You hear the door slam from inside of what’s become your room and you het up from your seat, hoodie and sweatpants still on.

“I see you still look the same as when I left you this morning.” Troye gives you a pointed look that has you staring at him with an unamuzed face as you slumped your shoulders, “And not in a mood to joke around, I see.” He pulls out a bottle of wine that clinks with the other bottes in the paper bag and hands it over to you, “That’s for you, my little alcoholic.” He pats your head.

You sit down at the table, your right knee brought close to your chest and your left leg up on the chair as well, “How is the outside world?” You place the bottle on the table, “Is loaf bread still a thing?”

Troye snorts in laughter, “She finally speaks! And bonus, actually made a witty quip.” He ducks down to place the detergents under the sink, “I don’t think I’ve seen you sober without a hangover in two months.” He sits down on the chair in front of you and smiles sadly at you, he reaches across the table, squeezing your hand, “How are you today, love?”

You sigh, pulling your hood off, and taking out the bun in your hair before redoing it, “I don’t know, I still feel like shit.”

“Obviously.” He mutters under his breath, “You two were together for 3 years, you can’t just fucking break that up and not feel like shit for a long time.” He scoffs, “You can do sooo much better, Y/N.” His eyes soften up, “You know, he called me again today. I bullshitted him, obviously, he also asked about why my landline wasn’t in service.”

You eye the wire from the phone that you cut when you’d heard his voice from the answering machine, and you give him an apologetic look.

“And your sister called again too. She was worried.”

You sigh, rubbing your face in frustration, “I just cant talk to them right now. I don’t want to have to talk about him when I’m this out of it. They loved him so much.”

Troye sighs and stands up, walking behind your chair and undoes your bun, brushing his fingers through your hair, getting the tangles out, “Look Y/N. When you showed up on my doorstep three months ago soaking wet with blisters on your feet, I told you to do what you need for as long as you need to. I told you to stay for as long as you needed to. But for the past three months, you’ve been getting drunk and crying over him, this isn’t getting over it anymore, it’s just regression.” He grabs you by the shoulders and turns you to face him, “You are a strong independent woman, and I absolutely love having you here with me, but some things need to change.” He pulls you up and over to your room, “You room is a literal pig-sty.”

He runs over to your laptop, “And you can’t keep getting updates on him.” He shows you the articles opened up on your browser from months ago as he closes them one by one.

“Tom Holland steps out looking fresh from a cry with red puffy eyes and disheveled hair.” Closed.

“Tom Holland eats alone at restaurant, phone glued to his ear as he tries to contact Y/N?” Closed.

“Tom Holland takes dog Tessa out for a walk lookng tired and depressed.” Closed.

“Spider-man actor quitting franchise over relationship problems?” I point an accusing finger towards the article, “In my defense, I got a lot of shit for that, and I didn’t defend myself even if it was just clickbait because I promised myself that I wouldn’t go on social media!” Closed.

“Oh I’ll get to that.” He nudged your shoulder pushing you to sit on the bed.

“Tom Holland caught getting emotional on the phone.” Closed.

“Trouble in paradise? Tom spotted out once again, without Y/N in sight.” Closed.

“Tom Holland, spotted out and about, Y/N still as phone background, have the two worked out their problems?”

“Y/N spotted for the first time in months looking haggard as she grabs a bite to eat at local London Bakery.” He gives you a deadpanned look, “Seriously?”

You shrug, “That’s on you. You were gone for the whole day and I had nothing to eat.”

He sighs, closing the browser window with multiple tabs about Tom still opened, “Sweetie, you have got to stop caring so much. I understand that you love him and you two were in love.” He makes a stupid mushy face, “But he hurt you! Live your life, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.”  He opens the next browser window still opened on Tom’s instagram and twitter, “Exhibit B.” He gives you a look before closing the browser.

“You’ve written so many good songs too! But you won’t even share them with the world.” He sat down next to you, clicking around on your laptop before the room is filled with your voice, singing.

You look over at him, “You really think they’re good?”

“I have literally cried with you at night while you would sing.”

You sigh, “I can’t sing right now. I just don’t feel like I can release at album where I’m at emotionally.”

“Then sell some of these to musicians who will, your songs deserve to be heard around the world. And for goodness’ sake, Y/N. Read this will you? It’s been in the mail bin for a month now, they’ve wanted to meet with you for a while now.” He throws a script on your bed

“You aren’t this stupid crying child, Y/N. You are fabulous and you didn’t need a man before Tom, why the hell would need one now?” He has his hands on his hips, “The Y/N I know is better than this. So unless you plan on being her again, then I’m gonna have to cut you off.” He grabs the half finished wine bottle on your dresser before slamming the door shut behind him, “Clean up your room and I’ll call uou when we need to leave to have lunch outside for once.”

You look over at the script on the bed, “The Greatest Showman”, and turn to the first page.

----------------------------------

“Yeah, I just finished reading the script.” You speak into the phone you kept for business, “I love it.”

“Wait-” Your manager’s voice sounds excited on the other end, “Does this mean you’re going to do it?”

You bite your lip, “Yeah. I think I am, I’m done with this. I don’t want to sit around getting drunk and cry all the time. I’ll send you some compositions I’ve been making these past few months, maybe find some artists who could use the sound on their albums.”

“Th-this is great news, Y/N!” She practically shouts into the phone, “Alright, this is perfect. We’ll fly you out the LA in a few days and you can meet with the directors, meet with the rest of the cast. They’ll be so happy to hear this, I mean, you were their first choice.” she sighs happily, “Alright, well I’ll go ahead and email you the details. I’ll get on the phone with them asap so we can arrange this whole thing!” She pasues, “I’m really proud of you, Y/N.”

“Does this mean you don’t want to be my roommate anymore?” You turn to see Troye pouting with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

You roll your eyes, holding out your arms for a hug, “No way. You’re my bitch forever now.” You laugh, “Thanks for the tough love.” He rubs your back while hugging you, “I really needed it.”

“Ugh, I know you did. It sucked having to be so mean to you.” He pulls away from you, “But please don’t ever ever wear anything like what you were wearing in that article, you looked like garbage.” He scoffs at you, “Now go get dressed and we can talk all about your new movie over lunch!" He squeals.

_________________________

"So glad you could make it, Y/N." Michael leans over to give you a handshake which you take gratefilly, "Hopefully the flight wasn't too tough on you. You've been in London so long, I'm sure you'd have jetlag coming back here."

"It was great! I'm so sorry about not getting back to you sooner, I was gling through some stuf-"

He holds his open palm, "Oh, say no more. I understand, you've been very strong amidst your relationship problems and have stayed above it." He compliments you, taking a bite out of his grilled chicken.

Ylu paste on a tense smile, "We all deal with it in our own ways." You sigh, remembering the days you'd spend drinking glass after glass of wine or whatever liquor was available.

"Anyway, so we wanted you for the role of Anne Wheeler, a pink haired trapeze artist and acrobat who falls in love with Hugh Jackman's business partner and protege, Philippe Carlyle." He ponders for a while, "Obviously we had you in mind for Anne, and we also had Ben Hardy in mind for Philippe, but since you were taking a while to give your answer, we honestly did start approaching other people for the roles and since Ben wasn't too keen on the role after finding out we might be going for Zendaya, it was just more work to get done before the production even started, but now that we have you aboard, everything's going according to plan!"

You clench your glass of water at the mention of Zendaya, you were definitely not feeling well enough to be around too many people, "So…" you play with the table napkin, tearing it to smaller bits and pieces starting at the corner, "When does filming start?"

He munches on some mashed potatoes, "We were hoping to start next month so it would probably.take a good 3 to 5 months to shoot, but your filming would probably be shorter since this is focused more in Hugh's character."

You clasp your hands together, "Perfect, I love it!"

"So, we'll send over the contract within a day or two to your manager, and we'll just pick up from there." He stands up to give you a quick hug.

__________________________________

You hop out the car, walking straight to the elevator in your hotel, your manager following closely behind, "He's your phone. Troye told me you broke it after throwing it against the wall." She looks over at me nervously, "I thought it'd be good for you to listen to his voice every now and then."

You take it without saying a word and stuf fit in your pocket, ignoring the constant dings and alerts coming from it as your manager gets off at the 12 floor. You grip the phone tight in your hand. You knew you didn't hate Tom, you walk out the elevator and towards your room, kicking off your shoes and finding more comfortable clothes to wear.

You could never hate him. But a part of you was afraid of all the messages he'd left you you were scared that if you opened them, you'd come crawling back to him, or if you heard him pleading for you to come back, you'd do it in a heartbeat.

You lie in bed, pondering over the phone, technically, you didn't need to open the messages.

0601 you hear a 'click' before a picture of your scrunched up face as Tom kisses your cheek greets you and you feel your heart ache. You open the photo gallery, and while your scrolling through all the pictures and videos, you accidentally press kn a video.

"I am with a child." You laugh as you watch him,it was raining in London, but you two were out and about, "Babe, let's get back to the car. We can just drive there."

You point the camera towards him as he jumps in a puddle, laughing loudly, pulling you along, "What are you doing with that umbrella? Get over here!" He pulls the umbrella away, "I love you." He mumbles before embracing you and giving you a kiss.

You pull away, giving him a look, "We're gonna be late to the movies, you know."

He shrugs, grinning at you and looking you like a lovesick puppy, he pulls you in again, "It's just the movies." He grins against your lips.

And then suddenly the video cuts and you're left there missing him and missing who the two of you used to be.

You smile sadly at the black screen, clutching it closer to your chest as you hug your phone, the closest thing you had to Tom, as you drift off to sleep.